Chapter 3: Promise Me

The days since Torrhen's chat with Sansa had seen the boy constantly in the training yard. His beatdown of Theon aside, Torrhen had had to get used to his younger body once more and was more determined than ever before to get himself fit and ready for all the wars that were inevitably to follow. Every stroke of his training blade against the dummy he was hitting also brought Torrhen a new plan to dismiss almost instantly, and his lack of ability to truly plan how to save everybody made him fight the straw dummy even harder.

His renewed focus hadn't gone unnoticed either. While Theon had stayed away from the practice yard since he had tasted his own blood, Robb and Jon continued their lessons. The pair were waiting for Ser Rodrik to arrive when they heard the blows Torrhen was making and went to watch.

"He's been hacking at that dummy for days now." Robb muttered quietly so that only Jon could hear. "Does he even sleep?"

Jon shrugged. "I've never seen him so determined." He noted.

Robb could only agree, but before he could step forwards and say anything to his younger brother, Ser Rodrik appeared. "Ah good, Torrhen has started early once again." The elder man threw two more practice swords at Robb and Jon, the pair both catching them. "Just a casual spar to begin with boys, let me see if you've actually learnt anything that I've tried to teach you. Make your opponent yield."

Robb nodded and stared down his bastard brother with an arrogant smirk as he picked up his shield while Jon just looked focused, and once both were correctly armoured up Jon lunged forwards slashing his blade downwards. The heir to Winterfell brought his practice sword up to block it and the bout began in earnest.

It didn't take too long for Robb to be on the forefront, twirling his wrist around to attack Jon from multiple directions with power. Snow's shield was getting a bit of a battering, but he held firm, and soon Jon found a gap in Robb's stance, stabbing out and catching Robb in his shield arm. The eldest yelped, and Jon capitalised by knocking Robb's sword out of his hand and holding the training sword threateningly to his chest.

"I yield." Robb panted. Jon actually smiled for once and lowered his sword.

"You got arrogant." Torrhen's voice called out. Robb turned around in surprise to see his brother stood at the edge of the courtyard.

"I what?" He asked.

Torrhen stepped forwards, himself ready for a spar with sword and shield. "You let your shield arm loosen and Jon found the gap. Defence is the most important part, if you've got a shield you need to control it at all times."

Robb was lost for words at being lectured by his younger brother. "He's right." Ser Rodrik said. "Your shield is the barrier between life and death, and you were so convinced that you had won you lowered your defence."

Feeling berated, Robb apologised to Ser Rodrik and sidled up to Torrhen. "I'm the eldest, remember. It should be me teaching you." He said quietly.

Torrhen's smile looked forced. "Winter is Coming, brother, and trouble comes with it. We must all be ready." He said mournfully. Robb's eyes widened in surprise at Torrhen's words, but before he could question them the boy had walked off towards the castle. Shaking his head, Robb moved back into the circle to face Jon again, but this time he tightened his grip on his shield and made sure to focus more.

A little bit later that day Robb was sat beside Ned as the elder Stark took court for that week. He couldn't concentrate however, as Torrhen's strange actions kept his mind occupied. He was harshly brought back to reality with a sharp calling of his name from his Father. "Sorry, Father." He said quickly. He looked around to see that the room was now empty, barring Ned and himself.

"You were lost in the clouds today." Ned said bluntly.

Robb thought to shake his head and protest, but his Father's eyes bore into his own, and he found himself nodding sheepishly. "Torrhen was just acting strangely earlier. Well, he's been acting strange for a while now. Ever since I hit him around the head."

Sighing loudly, Ned nodded his understanding and poured them both a small cup of wine. Robb took it gingerly, but Ned told him. "You are my heir, Robb. One day the troubles of Winterfell and all the North will fall upon your shoulders, and when the time comes you will need the occasional cup. Have one with me now." Robb sipped at it, but was careful not to take too much, wanting to not disappoint his Father and show that he could be a good Lord. "Now, what have you noticed?"

Robb thought for a moment. "He's more… mournful. Like he's not got much reason to be happy. And he's suddenly helping Ser Rodrik in the yard, not being trained by him."

Ned smiled. "Good, your eyes are opened and you're seeing. A good Lord knows his household, he knows their moods and their mannerisms and can work out when something is amiss. Your people will appreciate you more if you take an interest in them." Robb nodded, searing that lesson into memory. "As for Torrhen, he's fine, I've spoken to him at length."

"Are you sure?" Robb asked quickly. Ned nodded. "He just seems different, I don't know if he's mad at me or not."

Ned smiled, and ruffled Robb's hair. "He's not angry at you." He said calmingly. "I'm handling it, I promise." Robb nodded and finished his wine. "Now go on, I'm sure you would rather be getting up to some mischief with Jon and Theon than sitting here."

Grinning, Robb thanked his Father and left the room, leaving Ned once again pondering on what to do with his second son.

At the same time that Ned was trying to calm Robb's worries, Torrhen was again outside training his martial skills. So far, Torrhen had noted that the best thing about being in his younger body was that he had all 5 fingers on his left hand back. Gripping his junior bow with his undamaged hand, the Stark was testing himself to the limit at the archery range. He went to nock an arrow, before adding 4 more to his left hand. Torrhen took a deep breath, and then loosed, nocking again and firing again until all of the arrows had left his bow and buried themselves into the targets within seconds. Most were dotted around the sheet covering the target, with one just bedding itself outside. Frustrated, Torrhen walked over to collect the arrows before trying again.

The second go was even worse, his youthful body not able to get the accuracy he had once had, but the third time he tried it all 5 arrows landed in the black spot marking the centre.

"How are you so good?" Arya's voice asked from behind him. Yet again she had snuck up on Torrhen in the archery yard.

"Shouldn't you be with Septa Mordane?" Torrhen asked raising an eyebrow.

Arya shrugged. "She was fawning over Sansa's stitching again." The nine-year-old replied bitterly. "I'd much rather be here watching you than have to listen to that again."

Torrhen smirked, before an idea formed in his head. He turned the bow around in his hand so that the string was facing his sister and stretched his arm out. "Take it." He said.

"What?" Arya asked.

"Take it." Torrhen repeated. "You don't like stitching, you can't dance very well, and I heard you try to play the harp once…"

"You promised you'd never speak of that again." Arya grumbled.

"Take it." Torrhen insisted kindly. "If you can't be a girl, you might be able to be an archer." An image of his sister firing arrows at the dead from the Winterfell battlements flashed in his mind quickly, but he knew that he was doing the right thing. Arya took the bow and began to get a feel for it. Torrhen went away briefly, and came back with the training arrows that he, Robb and Jon had used as children. He handed her one and said. "Clip the arrow nock onto the string." He instructed. She was clumsy but managed it. Torrhen then went to edit her posture, standing her correctly as she loosely aimed at the target. "Now draw the string back." Arya took a deep breath, her chest puffed out with the excess air in her lungs. Torrhen stopped her mid draw. "Always breathe naturally." He instructed. "Breathe in gently as you pull." He told her, watching as Arya did as she was told. "And now fire on an out breath, you'll be far more accurate." Arya breathed out heavily and let go of the bow string. The arrow flew outwards but missed the target completely, disappointing the young girl. Torrhen was impressed though. "Well done." He told her. "My first go the arrow just dropped onto the ground."

"Really?" Arya asked, not believing that for a second.

Torrhen nodded. "But I practiced and practiced until I got better. If you like, I'll practice with you."

Her grey eyes truly lit up at that. "Really?" Torrhen nodded, and suddenly his face was engulfed in his sister's brown hair as she jumped up to hug him fiercely. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Torrhen chuckled at her enthusiasm and put her down gently. "Now you'll need to work hard at it. I didn't get good by not trying my hardest at every moment possible. Promise me Arya, promise me that you'll train your hardest every single day."

Arya's head was nodding up and down quicker than her arrow had been firing out from the bow. "I will I promise!"

Grinning, Torrhen then handed her another arrow, and told her. "Again."

While Robb's initial reaction was to be concerned about Torrhen, Jon's was to improve his own skills. The day after Torrhen had promised to help Arya with her archery, the Bastard of Winterfell had woken up early as well and joined Torrhen in the yard, and the pair were soon facing off against one another with wooden swords.

Jon won more often than not, his size and strength giving him a clear advantage, although Torrhen was exposing his weak spots when he could, his battle-hardened mind working to the youngers advantage.

"Keep your shield up." Torrhen insisted, after a jab to the ribs had knocked the wind out of Jon.

"Or you'll ring my head like a bell, yeah I know." Jon groaned, catching his breath. Standing and stretching himself out he gripped his sword harder and went back on the attack. Being careful to keep his shield up, Jon crossed swords a couple of times with his younger brother before using his left arm to shield bash Torrhen, sending the younger boy sprawling on the ground. He quickly rushed over and placed his foot on Torrhen's chest, holding him down.

"I yield." Torrhen said, a grimace on his face as Jon helped him up. "I can't wait until I'm bigger, this useless body is too weak…"

"You're more talented than half the boys I knew growing up." Catelyn Stark's voice was heard over the almost empty courtyard. Jon quickly stepped backwards and kept his head down, not wanting to draw the ire of Lady Stark. "Keep training and soon you'll be the finest knight in the realm." She boasted to Torrhen.

Torrhen shook his head. "I'll never be a knight, Mother." He rolled his eyes. "I'm too Northern."

"A Barrow Knight then, like your Uncle Brandon was." Cat told him, she held her hand up to his cheek, concern in her eyes as she looked at her son before scorn replaced it, as she looked at Jon. "Leave us, boy."

"Mother." Torrhen said warningly.

"Now." Cat demanded, ignoring her son.

Jon nodded, turning to Torrhen and saying. "I'll see you later on, Tor."

Torrhen nodded apologetically, before turning back to his Mother as Jon walked out of earshot. "That was cruel, you should try and be a bit nicer to him."

Catelyn ignored him again, refusing to talk about the way Jon's presence made her feel. "Maester Luwin came to us last night. It seems you stole a raven."

Torrhen was surprised, as he thought he had covered his tracks well. "I may have."

She pulled out a sealed letter, with the broken Weirwood seal of House Forrester on. "That would explain this letter from one of the Forrester girls."

"You opened it?" Torrhen asked, his temper rising slightly.

"Watch your words, Torrhen Stark." Cat warned, and Torrhen backed down slightly. "We are worried for you. You're not acting yourself, and now you're writing letters to maidens of a lowly house…"

"The Forrester's are as loyal as they come…" Torrhen interrupted, before he was interrupted back.

"They are also a lowly house, sworn to House Glover." Cat insisted firmly. "I know you cared for this girl as a child, but you have an obligation as a member of House Stark. We wed for the benefit of our Houses, not our hearts."

Torrhen snatched the letter out of Cat's hands. His thoughts turned to baby Cregan, and then to his wedding to Wylla, the girl that he was cursed to never be able to love. "I know my duties well enough, Mother." He growled, before he stormed away from her, heading towards the crypts.

Torrhen hadn't been down in the crypts for very long when he heard the old doors creak open from down the corridor, and a few minutes after that he heard his father's footsteps. He was stood by Lyanna Stark's statue, now knowing what he needed to do in order for Ned to believe him.

"Your Mother is very worried." Said Ned as he took a place beside Torrhen.

"I don't mean to worry her." Torrhen insisted, holding the letter from Mira at his side. "She just doesn't understand. Nobody does."

"Then tell me." Ned said calmly. "Talk to me about them, your wife, and your son."

Torrhen could tell he was still having a hard time believing, but he appreciated the effort none the less. "You've met Wylla Manderly, haven't you?"

Ned nodded. "She was only young the last time I visited White Harbour."

Torrhen breathed out a laugh through his nose. "She was a fierce spirit, a true Northern Queen. She dyed her hair green to show her pride in her family after the horror at the Twins rocked the North."

"She sounded like a fine wife." Ned admitted.

"She may have been." Torrhen shrugged. "I was too lost in my grief to truly see it." He held up the letter. "Mira… ever since I reconnected with her at Bitterbridge, it was always her. Then I got most of her family killed…"

"But they're here." Ned reminded him. "No matter what happened in your dream… in your time." He corrected himself quickly, but Torrhen knew what he meant.

"It wasn't a dream, Father." He said shortly. "It all happened. Your execution, Robert's bastard children, Roose Bolton's betrayal, the Night King. All of it."

Ned looked exasperated. "But tell me son, how am I to believe it? You speak of witchcraft and magic, not real life."

Torrhen sighed and looked up at his aunt's statue. Now was the time to prove himself as truthful. "Once Robb died, we knew that the only safe place for us was Greywater Watch. I found it and Howland Reed took us in. He told us all about her." He could hear Ned's breath hitch in his mouth. "I understand why you didn't tell us about her. How it all ended…"

"You know nothing of how it ended." Ned said quickly, showing rare emotion.

"But Howland knew enough." Torrhen said solemnly. "He told me about Harrenhal, about the Knight of the Laughing Tree's true identity, and about what truly happened at the Tower of Joy."

Ned was silent, and so Torrhen looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes at the memory. "He swore a vow." Ned whispered.

"As did you, that day." Torrhen explained. "Howland had no choice, you were gone, and I needed something to convince Daenerys Targaryen that I was an ally. I needed that knowledge, and I needed that sword."

Ned looked down at him, his eyes pained. "Knowledge?" He asked in a whisper.

Torrhen nodded. "Jon forgave you." He told Ned. "He was angry at first aye, but he knew the truth really and he forgave you for protecting him."

"How can you know…" Ned whispered.

"His name is Aegon Targaryen." Torrhen spoke clearly. "You swore to protect him from King Robert so you lied to everyone, and in doing so you saved the entire world, Father."

It was at that point, the exact moment that Ned stared into his son's eyes, full of sorrow and older than a boy of 11's should be, that Ned believed everything that Torrhen had said. "By all the gods…" He whispered. He placed his hands on Torrhen's shoulders. "We must go up to my solar. You need to tell me everything again. Everything that happened and leave no detail untold."