Chapter 2: A Second Chance

The sun had long since set when Torrhen had finished his tale of the War of the Five King's, heading over to Meereen and travelling back to fight against first the Bolton's, and then the dead, marking out the exact spot that he had bled to death after the Night King had bested him in combat. Ned had been silent throughout most of the tale, interrupting only to scold Torrhen over some of the less honourable things that the young Stark had had to do, and also to mourn his children and wife when tales of their deaths came.

"It's quite a tale." Ned admitted, wringing his hands together nervously.

Torrhen nodded. "It was hell, Father. It was all seven of them at once."

Ned rose to his feet, having been sitting on his favoured rock and stretched his legs out. He took a minute to take it all out and then chuckled. "Your imagination is a wonder, Torrhen. I should be worried about the darkness of your tale, but truly, it's a story worthy of the greatest bards."

Torrhen was confused. "I'm not making it up!" He exclaimed. "You saw the old man, you heard his words!"

"I don't know what I heard." Ned countered, denial setting in firmly. "All I know is that you took a fierce blow to the head not too long ago and you have been acting odd ever since. Now you tell me a tale of war, treason and legends long dead. Tell me, what am I supposed to believe? The Dragons are dead, the White Walker's are gone, and the Queen would never betray Robert like that…"

"You don't know her, Father." Torrhen scoffed. "You don't really know him."

Ned's face grew stern. "Take care how you speak, son." He warned.

Torrhen shook his head and kicked out at some of the wood chips that littered the Godswood. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it was too good to be true." He muttered.

"You just need rest." Ned tried to say, but Torrhen scowled back at him.

"I need to do something!" The boy roared. "I watched as my brother's body was lifted up above the Twins flayed by his own bannerman. I watched helplessly as Rickon took an arrow in his back trying to run to safety. I saw my own mother get speared in the gut thousands of miles away from home. I saw thousands of men slaughtered at a fucking wedding!" He screamed. He turned away catching his breath as the tears started to fall. "All of that will happen if you don't listen to me and believe me."

Ned glared back down at his son, trying to cow him into silence. "I will forget your words tonight." He muttered coldly. "I will forget that you spoke to me in that manner. Go back to the castle, Torrhen, and only leave your room for meals and lessons. Stay out of the library and stay away from the training grounds until I give you leave. You will tell nobody of this story that you have concocted. Am I understood?"

"Father…" Torrhen began, feeling like a small child for the first time since he had returned.

"Am I." Ned raised his voice. "Understood?"

Torrhen lowered his head in anger, and bit back through his clenched teeth. "Yes Father."

"Good. Now get out of here." The Stark patriarch ordered. Torrhen turned on his heels and skulked out of the wooded area, and left his Father needing to sit back down on his rock. Ned's mind was racing. Of course it was a tale cooked up by the concussion, but Torrhen had spoken with such venom and bitterness that Ned didn't even know his son could muster. Something wasn't right here, and Ned hated the thought of not knowing what that was.

Catelyn was fast asleep in her chambers by the time that Ned left the Godswood and went to bed, so the Lord of Winterfell went to his own, colder rooms. Settling into bed was a challenge, as was falling asleep. Ned tossed and turned for what must have been a couple of hours as his son's words filled his mind.

Giving up on sleep, Ned knew that there was only one person that he could talk to about all of this. The problem was, Ned hadn't spoken to him in almost 15 years. Groaning, the Stark Lord got up and got redressed, before opening his door to the guard that stood outside it. "Go and get Jory and tell him to meet me in my solar." He commanded.

Twenty minutes later, a half asleep and slightly dishevelled Jory Cassell stood in the doorway. "Lord Stark." He bowed his head.

"I have a task for you." Ned said solemnly, sat at his desk and finishing off the letter that he was writing. "This is highly important, and I would only trust you to do this."

"My Lord does me great honour." Jory said proudly.

Ned chuckled. "You won't be so happy in a minute." He folded the letter over and dripped some hot, grey wax onto the folds, before stamping it with his own personal seal. "Take this to Howland Reed at Greywater Watch. This letter is for his eyes only, Jory. Do you understand?"

"Aye, My Lord." Jory nodded. "How do I find him?"

Ned had a map already laid out. "Now we're in the height of summer, so there's only a couple of places that Greywater Watch would have floated too…" He began, before giving out every bit of information that he remembered from his time spent on campaign with his Crannog friend.

Two hours later, still in the dead of night, Jory Cassell rode out of the East Gate towards the Kingsroad, and Ned watched him go hoping that he had made the right choice.

Of course, even after his Father's warning Torrhen wasn't going to stay in his room all day. The next morning, he woke up before the sun had risen and quickly got into his old archery gear. Nimbly exiting the room, he made it down to the archery range and grabbed his bow. Relishing the feel of it in his now unharmed hand, he nocked an arrow, holding his thumb to his cheek for longer than necessary to get himself back in the mindset of calmness that was needed. He straightened his index and middle finger of his right hand, letting go of the string and watched the arrow rocket into the large black spot on the cloth that indicated the centre. He nocked another arrow and repeated the process.

A dozen and a half arrows had sunken into the black painted mark when a voice came from behind him. "Father's going to be mad at you." Torrhen swivelled around to see Arya sitting on the fence beside the range. Torrhen knew that but shrugged and fired another one off anyway. Arya jumped down from the fence and walked behind Torrhen, so she was on his other side. "I think Mother's mad too. She was too quiet at dinner yesterday."

"Did you sheep shift Sansa's bed again?" Torrhen rolled his eyes, nocking another arrow and slowing his breathing down.

"No!" Arya exclaimed. Torrhen just raised an eyebrow, and Arya broke into a grin. "Maybe."

Torrhen fired the arrow. "Then that's why Mother was angry."

"No it wasn't!" Arya complained. "She was talking to Robb quietly, but I noticed them say your name and Theon's." Torrhen's brow furrowed at the mention of the Greyjoy boy. "And Jon said that you beat Theon so hard that his eye swelled up!" Torrhen didn't respond to that, but his smirk was obvious in the low daylight as dawn began to break. "Why do you hate him now?"

"I've always hated him." Torrhen shrugged, nocking another arrow and firing it, splitting another arrow in the process.

"Woah…" Arya said, impressed at the archery on show. She then shook her head to recollect her thoughts. "No, you've not liked him but never wanted to beat on him."

"Just leave it, Arya." Torrhen said impatiently. "Please."

Arya shrugged, and held her head high. "Fine, don't tell me. I just wanted to tell you that he looks really funny now, that's all."

"It's not a thing to laugh over, Arya." Ned's voice came from the balcony above, and Torrhen groaned audibly. Of course, he had to get caught on his first morning. "Run along, let me talk to your brother."

Arya grinned at Torrhen's discomfort. "Good luck." She laughed, before running over towards the castle. Torrhen moved to go and collect his arrows, which gave Ned time to get down to ground level and join him in the archery range.

"Nice shooting." Ned admitted, helping Torrhen remove the last couple of arrows from the target. "You've improved."

"I've had 9 years of practice." Torrhen rolled his eyes.

Ned sighed. "Enough of that, please Torrhen." He thought of mentioning his letter to Howland but decided against it. "While the shooting was impressive, I don't remember giving you permission to be out here." Torrhen nodded knowingly, hanging his head down. Ned put his hand out to grab Torrhen's chin gently and lifted it so grey eyes met grey eyes. "You're going to be a fine man, Torrhen. But a man must know when it is right to obey, and when it is right to disobey. I am not your enemy, I swear to you."

"I know you're not." Torrhen admitted, placing his own hand on Ned's. "I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday. It was unbecoming."

Ned smiled and withdrew his hand. "You are a Stark of Winterfell, and the wolfs blood is strong in you. I'm just glad that you can channel it in such a way." Ned nodded to the archery range.

Shrugging, Torrhen said. "Everything is peaceful when there's an arrow nocked. I can just focus on the line between arrow and target. Other times… I just get overwhelmed."

Ned nodded. "I understand. That being said, you did disobey me."

"I'll go to my room." Torrhen said monotonously.

Ned shook his head. "Get some breakfast, and then you're to help Maester Luwin all day. Keeping you cooped up is asking for trouble."

Torrhen smiled and leaned in to hug his father for the first time in years. Ned was confused at first but put his strong arms around his boy before Torrhen pulled away and walked back towards the main castle, happier at the outcome of this talk than the last.

Torrhen was told to go back to his room and stay there that evening though, but he was allowed to grab a book from the library before he was shut away. Choosing Winter's Kings, or The Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell by Maester Childer, Torrhen settled himself down on his bed trying to understand everything he could about his House Founder when his door opened, and in came his twin.

"Sansa I'm not supposed to have visitors." Torrhen told her.

Sansa smiled at him sweetly. "I know that, but you didn't come for supper and Father said I could bring this up to you." She had a basket in her hands filled with some bread and hard cheese. "I've not seen you in a couple of days and it feels strange." Torrhen smiled and moved over on his bed so that Sansa could join him on it. He placed the book down carefully and ripped a part of the bread off, stuffing it in his mouth. Sansa saw the title and groaned in disgust. "Why are you reading that boring old thing?"

"It's interesting." Torrhen shrugged, intentionally speaking his mouth full of bread as he knew Sansa hated that, and crumbs flew out of his mouth towards her.

Sansa shrieked and slapped him on the arm. "Torrhen no!" She cried, laughing slightly. "That's disgusting."

Grinning, Torrhen swallowed his mouthful and turned back to the book. "It's interesting. I want to learn as much as I can about the Long Night."

"The one in Old Nan's tales?" She asked.

Torrhen nodded. "It happened, Sansa." He began, before remembering Ned's request not to tell anyone about his past. "Winterfell is a fairly obvious name, isn't it? This is where Winter, fell."

Sansa still shook her head. "It's still no Florian and Jonquil." She told him seriously.

"Urgh." Torrhen groaned.

"What?" Sansa asked pushing him gently. They fell silent after that, and Sansa asked. "Are you ok?"

Torrhen looked over at her and saw that she was genuinely concerned. He smiled sadly, thinking about his son. "Not really." He admitted. "I've got a lot of thoughts running through my mind."

"About Mira?" Sansa asked, and Torrhen's eyes snapped to hers.

"What?" He asked her.

"Mira Forrester." Sansa shrugged. "I know you liked her when she came to our nameday celebrations a couple of years ago. I know you were disappointed when she wasn't at the last one. Jeyne says that you're in love with her."

Mira… how could he have forgotten? Trying to remember if she was still in the North or not, Torrhen prodded. "She's probably in Highgarden, I think her Mother was trying to arrange it."

"Not yet, or not that Mother has told me." Sansa admitted before sighing dreamily. "Ah… Highgarden. I'd love to visit there one day. Even up here I've heard tales of Lord Tyrell's beauty and valour." Torrhen was confused and was about to question Sansa when she continued. "You should write her a love letter! Oh, that would be so romantic!"

Torrhen scoffed and picked the book back up and turned to his last read page. Sansa huffed and stood up from the bed.

"Fine, I'm only trying to make you happy and let you fall in love, but if you'd rather I left you to your boring book about thousands of years ago…" She trailed off dramatically.

"Ok then." Torrhen said with a smirk.

Huffing, Sansa fled the room, slamming the door as she went in jest, and Torrhen immediately went over to his desk and got some parchment and a quill. He thought about what to say to her and started scratching something down, before shaking his head and scrunching up the parchment.

Two broken quills and around a dozen scrunched up pieces of parchment later, Torrhen finally had his letter. Deciding to go to Maester Luwin in the morning to get some black wax he set that to one side. Another idea popped into his head then, if he had forgotten Mira was still alive now, what else might he forget? He grabbed another piece of parchment and began writing in Valyrian so that it would be more difficult to be read and began to detail everything that had happened in his old life. As he went, he vowed to himself that things would be better this time, and that none of his family would die in the coming fight. He had been given a second chance by the Gods, and he most definitely wasn't going to squander it.