Chapter 11: The Grand Northern Conspiracy

The largest procession to make its way to Winterfell came by the way of the Kingsroad, as the white merman banners of House Manderly came riding slowly down the hills. Robb was up on the ramparts just watching as the wheelhouse of Lord Wyman grew larger as it neared the castle. Steeling himself to what was about to happen, Robb tightened his sword belt and his cloak and walked down to where Ned was waiting for him.

Lord Wyman had brought over 100 mounted knights with him, as well as dozens of squires, servants and other attendants. Catelyn was still rushing around to find them all a place to stay either within Winterfell or in the Wintertown. Robb quickly arrived in the courtyard and took his place at the side of his Father.

"I know what I'm putting you through today." Ned said quietly. "Thank you for being so good about it."

Robb nodded. "It's my duty. You married Mother without having seen her before, I'm thankful that you're giving me the chance to meet Wylla first."

"Just remember that this isn't the same girl that Torrhen has told you about." Ned told him.

Robb was glad of that, not even wanting to think about that other future. He didn't have to worry about it for long, as the Wheelhouse of House Manderly rolled through the gates of Winterfell. It was beautifully carved ironwood and looked to be more expensive than anything Robb had seen save the Valyrian Steel swords of his house.

First out of the wheelhouse came the extremely large Lord Wyman, the Lord of White Harbour. He was dressed for combat, although his fighting days looked long gone. A steel gorget covered a blue green tunic, the colours of his house, and an ornate sword at his hip with the merman of Manderly on the pommel.

His granddaughter followed him out of the wheelhouse and immediately met Robb's gaze. He gave her his most charming smile, growing in confidence when the blonde girl smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Robb pried his attention away from the girl and turned to where Wyman Manderly was rising from kneeling before Ned, his large figure straining to get back up. "It's good to see you again, Wyman."

"Aye, it's been too long My Lord." Wyman nodded. "I was most intrigued at your letter."

"All will be revealed soon." Ned promised, before gesturing to Robb. "You remember my eldest son and heir, Robb?"

Robb offered out his hand and Wyman gripped it firmly. Robb squeezed back, much to Wyman's amusement. "Aye, you'll be a good match for my Wylla for sure."

Robb smiled. "I hope I don't disappoint My Lord."

"Nonsense! A strapping lad like you, you'll keep her on her toes." Wyman laughed. He moved to introduce the girl. "Here she is now, Lord Eddard, Lord Robb. My granddaughter, Wylla."

Ned kissed the girl's hand first as Wylla curtseyed before the Warden of the North, and Robb followed his Father's lead.

"You look beautiful, My Lady." He told her. Wylla just smiled.

"Show the Lady and her attendants up to her room, Robb." Ned told him. "I have a lot to discuss with Lord Wyman."

An unasked question was left in the air as Ned left an eyebrow raised, asking if Robb wished the betrothal to go ahead. Robb nodded his agreement, turning back to the girl and knowing he had made a good choice for his House. "If you'll follow me, Lady Wylla. You are in the same wing as my sisters."

The Stark heir waited for Wylla and her attendants to get their things ready before leading them into the main keep of the castle, trying to strike up conversation with his new bride to be.

A few days later and Torrhen had already had enough of bumping into people at every corner. The only peace he seemed to get was in the ancient Stark Godswood, hidden away deep into the three acres of woodland area to get away from those using the heart tree to pray. He brought Mira with him, using the excuse of babysitting Rickon to get away. The guards let them have a bit of space, and Torrhen and Mira sat down with a small picnic.

"I forgot how peaceful it is in here." The Forrester girl said.

Torrhen nodded. "I always feel better here, even after what happened."

Mira grimaced, the image of Torrhen bleeding out stuck in her brain. "Don't." She pleaded. "We won't let that happen again."

Torrhen agreed, taking out a pork sausage from the little basket and eating it. "No, we won't." He insisted. "Once the Lords know to prepare, we'll be more than ready for the Lannisters and the dead."

"How can you be so sure?" Mira asked.

Torrhen grinned. "Because I'm directly involved?" He jested. After seeing Mira's unamused look, he laughed and was more honest. "Father and I have been working non stop on plans and contingencies. Once the North is on board and knows what we want of them, we'll go and talk to Stannis Baratheon in King's Landing about the Dragonglass. Hopefully we can get the mining process going as soon as possible. Then we can settle into a routine of rebuilding the moat, building a fleet and forging weapons and defences for the entire North."

Mira nodded, before laughing at Rickon struggling to climb up one of the trees. Torrhen rolled his eyes and went to grab his little brother. Holding the squirming toddler over his shoulder, Torrhen then noticed Catelyn walking through the Godswood towards them. Torrhen set Rickon down, and the toddler ran to his Mother.

"Torrhen, you're needed." Cat told him. "Lord Karstark is here with his heir and one of his granddaughters."

The young Stark's face grew stoic. "Is it starting?"

"It will be soon. Your Father has summoned you to his solar in the meantime." Catelyn told him. "Come, Rickon. Let us go to the kitchens and find you a sweet."

Rickon cheered and ran off towards the castle, leaving Cat to follow him walking briskly. Torrhen turned to Mira. "I'm sorry, our picnic will be cut short."

Mira smiled, standing up and standing before him. "Go." She insisted, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Go and unite the North behind Winterfell."

The Great Hall of Winterfell was rammed. Lords and Ladies of the entire North had travelled to the Great Castle after the summons, and there were dozens of banners flying at the back of the room. Torrhen was sat beside his Mother on the high table, who in turn was at the right side of Ned, while Robb was the other side of the Lord of Winterfell, and on the heir's right was Benjen Stark, having travelled down from the Wall at the request of his brother.

Torrhen's attention was focused on the tables further down the room however, where all the Lords and Ladies had come with their own advisors. The sight of a healthy Lord Wendell Glenmore warmed Torrhen's heart, but the sight of Roose Bolton talking to a young man with his own eyes hardened it once again. Reminding himself that nobody here had committed any form of treason, Torrhen waited until Ned had finished conferring with Maester Luwin, and soon enough the Stark patriarch banged his tankard on the table, silencing the room.

Ned stood up and looked around at his subjects. "My Lords." He said commandingly. "My Ladies. I appreciate that this gathering is unusual. Usually we will only gather like this in times of war, and I'm afraid to say that the likelihood of us calling our banners grows by the day." Torrhen heard the murmurs of unease throughout the room. "Many of you will have noticed the increase of Wildlings and Night's Watchmen fleeing from the Wall, and many of you will have executed them yourselves. What you may not know, is the reasons for this desertion."

"What reason could those savages have other than they're sick of freezing their arses off next to their ugly wives?" The Greatjon roared, to the laughter of the room. Nobody on the high table joined in however.

"The Long Night comes again." Ned told them sharply, and the silence was deafening.

Lord Cerwyn was the first to speak. "Have you lost your senses My Lord?" Medgar asked.

"The Long Night is a myth, a legend." Lady Lyessa Flint added.

Maege Mormont however wasn't so disbelieving, standing up and taking the attention of the room's occupants. "My Lords, My Ladies. Bear Island has long suffered under the hands of Wildlings. We have fought them and the Ironborn for a thousand generations and will continue to do so for as long as we need to. I've never known Wildling's to surrender in all of my life, until the last few years. Their only request is to burn their bodies. Tell me, for such a proud, and savage people why would they submit themselves to be killed with only that request?"

"Forgive us, Lord Stark." Wylis Manderly, heir to White Harbour piped up from beside his father. "But what proof have you had of this?"

Benjen then stood up. "Most of you know me." He called out. "I am Benjen, son of Lord Rickard Stark the last Lord of Winterfell. First Ranger of the Night's Watch. Nobody alive this side of the Wall knows the lands beyond as well as me, and I've seen abandoned villages that have stood for thousands of years. I've seen graveyards torn up and the bodies burnt. I've seen no sign of Wildlings in places North of the Skirling Pass that have been settlements for eons. Something has them scared, My Lords."

"And then, there is the signs from among our own." Ned began. "All of you know our legends, and most of you were there when Lord Howland Reed dreamed up the enemy's movements upon the Trident a week beforehand. We all know the power of Green Dreams and by chance, we have two with the gift among our numbers. Lord Howland's heir Jojen and my son, Torrhen, have both foreseen this. The dead will march upon the Wall."

"The Wall will fall." Torrhen then said loudly. "Dead men will enter the North, and the Night King will set his sights on all of you."

"We are to believe your son?" Roose Bolton asked for the first time.

"I believe him." Ned said strongly. "He has the sight that is for sure, he has seen things that only I know the truth of."

"Then what do we do?" The Greatjon asked. "My lands are closest to the Wall, and if all of this is true then I will be the first to fall."

Murmurs of agreement was made from the Northernmost Lords. Ned nodded and raised his arm up for silence. "We prepare." He said simply. "We arm the Wall with as many men as we can. Throughout the North we are a sparse population it is true, but we have greybeards and green boys that would love nothing more than to spare their family from a harsher winter. We offer rewards for the families of those that volunteer for the wall. We arm them with castle steel and strong armour ourselves, and we train those that remain."

"This will all cost a lot, Lord Stark." Lady Barbrey Dustin shouted from towards the back. "Are you trying to beggar us?"

"The costs will be of no issue." Ned said loudly. "But all of this will have to wait for the moment, as a more pressing matter has befallen us."

"More pressing than an army of dead men killing us all?" Lord Bolton's heir Domeric asked sarcastically.

Torrhen nodded. "Lions lay with Lions, and the Stag is dressed in motley." He said as cryptically as he could. "The Lions overreach and crumble, and the realm is saved."

"I know King Robert well, we are like brothers." Ned explained. "You all know this. I have had it confirmed that King Robert has been made a fool of. He has been cuckolded in his royal bed and the King's children are not his own."

Sharp whispers were heard, and Torrhen could see that Ned was grateful he had both Wyman Manderly and Howland Reed on side before this meeting. "Those are treasonous words, Lord Stark." Roose Bolton reminded him.

"And I do not say them lightly." Ned told them all. "This is why I have called you all here. I would have the North united whilst turmoil grips the South. I would have you all aware of what I have learnt, so that when the fallout of this treason hits us we are ready."

"Will you tell the King?" Howland Reed asked.

Ned shook his head. "For now, he would be disbelieving, and we are not ready for the fallout."

Shouts fell upon them as the crowd dissented. "TREASON!" and "GUT THE ROYAL WHORE!" Were among the loudest of the shouts. Ned smacked his tankard on the table once more, and the room fell silent.

"I understand your misgivings!" He shouted. "I understand that some of you may even be thinking of writing King's Landing and confessing my words. I have faith and trust that none will. We are the North. We are not like the Southerners, we are not fighting over this Game of Thrones that has the South so enraptured. We follow strength and we prepare for Winters to hit hard. We have never involved ourselves with the South unless absolutely necessary, at times like my ancestor Cregan Stark ending the Dance of the Dragons, or to avenge our own as we did in Robert's Rebellion. We are a strong nation that has never lost a war to the South, and that is because we have been united ever since the last Red King bent his knee to Winterfell." He looked pointedly at Roose then. "I would not see the North be ripped apart from the inside, and nor would I see it crippled at the hands of a monster from legend."

The room began banging their own tankards in agreement. "What would you have of us then?" The Greatjon asked again.

"I would have you prepare." Ned said honestly. "As I am doing in Winterfell. Stockpile your food and train your smallfolk. The South will be at war soon and we shall look to end it swiftly. We shall keep the North's business to ourselves and the South shall be unprepared."

"Who are we fighting?" Maege Mormont asked.

"House Lannister." Robb said firmly. "They have committed treason against the crown, and so long as King Robert lives they shall be on their own."

"But before war, and before we even look to talk to the South, we strengthen ourselves." Ned explained. "Moat Cailin is to be rebuilt into a stronghold like the North has not seen in thousands of years, held by a Stark, but manned by men from all over the North, from all of its Houses."

"Aye." Was the call, and the banging of goblets indicated the majority's togetherness. Torrhen noted it was the usual suspects who were abstaining. Lord Bolton, Lord Ryswell and Lady Barbrey chief among them.

"We shall build a fleet, so that the North knows strength at sea again." Ned called out to more cheers, the Manderly party the loudest. "We shall build a port town upon the Stoney Shore. For too long have we neglected the West Coast and the threats we could face there."

"To be held by another Stark? A babe?" Barbrey Dustin mocked.

"To be held by Robett Glover, if he would accept." Ned called out. The man in question looked questioningly to his brother Galbart, before rising and kneeling before Ned.

"I would gladly accept this honour, Lord Stark." Robett Glover said proudly. He was bid to rise and sit back down, and Ned continued.

"And to bind us together, I propose a betrothal between our houses." Ned said. "Your son may be young, Lord Robett." Ned used the man's new title. "But when he is of age, he shall wed a Stark."

Ned was sure to leave it there, and both Robett and Galbart eagerly accepted. This was of course a formality. Ned had spoken with Galbart beforehand, as he had with all of his major vassals to explain their parts in all of this. He then moved on to the next item on his list.

"A new castle, a stronghold to aid the Night's Watch and to be our first defences against the coming storms will be erected in the New Gift." Ned told them all. "Lord Karstark, I would propose a betrothal between your granddaughter and my youngest son, Rickon. It shall be his castle when he is of age, but it will be close to your lands and Karstark blood shall rule it until the end of time."

Lord Karstark rose and knelt. "We are kin, you and I. I would be glad to renew those bonds once more."

"And to ensure that the new Northern ships are built efficiently and swiftly, and that the new town, the new castle and Moat Cailin have the best foundations possible, my son Torrhen will wed a daughter of Lord Forrester with a promise of Ironwood and the best carpenters in the North as aid in all of our new endeavours." Ned took a quick drink, and Torrhen noted how the Lords clung to his every word. "Lord Bolton, have you an answer to my proposal to yourself?"

Lord Bolton looked to his son, who just nodded curtly, and stood up. "I have, Lord Stark. We accept. My heir shall marry your daughter, Sansa."

That sent shockwaves around the room, as the repercussions of a Stark Bolton wedding wasn't lost on the others. "Excellent." Ned began. "The North must tie itself together now, more than perhaps any time in its history and a match between our Houses will be crucial in that. As will the betrothal that I have negotiated with Lord Wyman, for a wedding to be held on the Southern holy day for the Father that you are all invited to, between my son and heir Robb and his granddaughter, Wylla. This shall hopefully be the first wedding of many between Northern Houses, and I hope you all follow suit in arranging suitable matches to tie us all together."

Torrhen knew it would take more than just words to ensure that the Northerners did as they were asked, as well as keeping things from the South so that they could prepare in peace, but the celebratory mood in the room was one that filled him with a good amount of hope that maybe the North could pull together against whatever it faced.

A feast had raged for three days until Torrhen could see that Ned was convinced that the Northern Lords would agree to his plans, and some had even come up with improvements while in their cups. Ned had told them that while Robert wasn't to know about the Queen's treason yet, he was still heading Southwards to King's Landing to treat with Stannis Baratheon, and that had gone down relatively well when the promise of Dragonglass and its uses were put to them. Even the marriage front had been particularly promising, with Elaena Glenmore marrying Rodrik Forrester in front of the Winterfell Weirwood on the first night, and matches between Torrhen Karstark and an Umber woman, as well as the four Ryswell boys all being betrothed to different houses being among the most important.

Torrhen himself couldn't relax though. Every time he saw the Leech Lord of the Dreadfort his skin crawled. His son seemed amiable enough, but Torrhen had taken to watching them both from the battlements when he found the time. That was where he was as Domeric Bolton and Barbrey Dustin spoke in hushed tones in the courtyard, amongst the clanging of swords as numerous heirs and Lords honed their skills with Robb, the Stark heir gaining their respect by his friendly nature and skill with a blade.

"Domeric seems like a good man." Ned's voice came from Torrhen's left. He turned his head and saw Ned walking towards him.

"I don't trust him. He's a Bolton." Torrhen remarked childishly.

Ned gave him a look. "Yet you trust Daenerys Targaryen, who's Father did more to harm House Stark than any Bolton has in a thousand years."

"Dany isn't her father…" Torrhen began, before he saw that his own words were being used against him. Ned's wry smirk just compounded the lesson. "He's still Roose's son."

"True, but look. Really look." Ned asked of his son. Domeric was laughing at something and kept the smile on his face for a long time. "When have you ever seen Roose Bolton even smile?" Torrhen couldn't answer. "We are strong, House Bolton will remain loyal to us because they can see the benefits of being closer to Winterfell than they have ever been. I will not underestimate the man, but I cannot blindly distrust him based on a future that will never happen."

"I understand." Torrhen nodded. "I don't trust him though, I don't trust that Roose hasn't already sent a rider to King's Landing."

Ned chucked softly. "White Harbour is firmly in our hands and all boats are being checked. As is the Neck and the Causeway, Howland has made sure of it. The North will remain silent until I am ready to sail to King's Landing to speak with Stannis and Jon Arryn."

Torrhen had to admit, he was impressed. "I never knew you to have this level of cunning, Father."

Ned laughed again. "You remember my saying, the lone wolf dies."

"But the Pack survives." Torrhen finished.

Ned nodded. "That works with the North as well. The North is my pack. In your other future I was blinded by trust in the South and acted alone, only to die and have the North tear itself apart. I won't let that happen this time, and though I'd prefer all my children marry for love…" He looked off into the distance and the pair saw Sansa nervously making her way from her group of girls over to speak with Domeric. "I have made sure that you are all key in uniting our nation beyond any doubts."

It was evening before Torrhen was comfortable enough to leave Sansa in the presence of her betrothed without him watching over her like a hawk, and as he always did when he needed to calm himself he made his way to the archery range.

Another feast had been called to celebrate some of the unions that had been agreed and while Torrhen just couldn't bring himself for another night of celebrations most of the other Northerners could, so he had expected to be alone. This wasn't the case though, as a young man had beaten the young Stark to the range. He wore the leather armour of House Glenmore, and even though he was younger, Torrhen recognised his dearest friend from after his coronation immediately. He waited until Cregan Glenmore had hit another bullseye before speaking.

"Cregan, right?"

The Glenmore looked up in surprise and nodded. "Yes, Lord Torrhen." He said formally.

"Please, just Torrhen." The Stark insisted. "That's some nice shooting."

Cregan smirked at the compliment. "I'm trying to get as good as my older brother, he never misses the centre."

It took everything he had to not grimace at the thought of Arthur Glenmore's fate. "I hear he and his elite guard are more than a match for anyone with a bow." Torrhen told Cregan. "I wanted to join them, once. I wasn't allowed of course."

Cregan was in awe. "You wanted to join our guard? My Father would have been most honoured."

Torrhen grinned. "If I was a thirdborn or fourth born son maybe. Although being granted Moat Cailin isn't a bad substitute."

Cregan laughed. "Not at all. I'll be lucky to inherit a barn."

Thinking on that, Torrhen had an idea. "Moat Cailin is the first line of defence for the entire North, and I wanted men of most Houses to come and be a part of my household. If you like, I'm sure we could find you a role."

Cregan's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You don't even know me."

Torrhen smirked, shrugging. "I'm a good judge of character." He took his bow from over his shoulders and nocked an arrow, loosing it into the centre of the target next to Cregan's. "Plus, I need someone who can challenge me with a bow."

Cregan just laughed as he nocked another arrow in his own bow, and the pair competed against one another until the light failed them, becoming fast friends once again.