Chapter 12: Their Blades are Sharp

It wasn't just Cregan Glenmore that had been asked to go to Moat Cailin and form a household. Many younger nobles of the North had been asked to join Torrhen at the stronghold. Ethan Forrester and Roose Ryswell had both come asking Torrhen himself for a place, while Torrhen Karstark and Daryn Hornwood had both been approached by Ned, the latter of whom was encouraged to accept by his Father even though he was the heir to Hornwood.

Ned was in his solar finalising some of the roles that these young men should have when there was a knock at the door. "Jon to see you, Lord Stark." The guard's voice came through the door.

"Send him in." Ned said, finishing what he was writing and making sure that Dark Sister was out of sight. He looked up to see a nervous Jon Snow stood before him. "What is it, Jon?"

The younger boy took a deep breath and began. "I want to join the Night's Watch."

It was too early, Ned thought. He ran a hand through his beard. "Have you thought this through?"

Jon nodded. "Even bastards can rise high in the Watch. Uncle Benjen says that they could use men like me."

"You're still a boy, Jon." Ned sighed. "Wait a few years, live a little."

"What am I waiting for?" Jon scoffed, unlike himself. "You clearly don't want to let me form my own cadet branch and passed over me for the Stoney Shore. I'd rather join the Watch now and prove myself there than wait around for whatever scraps may be left." He sighed. "I know I shouldn't expect anything. I'm only a bastard, but I'd be loyal, Father."

Ned was pained at his words. "I just don't think you've thought it through. You wouldn't be able to meet a woman, to raise a family…" He didn't want to mention Daenerys Targaryen, but the girl was on Ned's mind.

"I don't want a family." Jon shook his head, speaking childishly. "I'd be best off on the Wall. Out of the way of you and Lady Stark."

"I don't want you out of the way, Jon." Ned insisted. "You are my blood."

"But you hide me away?" Jon was growing angrier. "You keep me hidden when guests are here so I don't offend anybody. If I am your blood, are you ashamed of me?"

Ned was taken aback. "How could you think that?"

"If it's not that, then you enjoy tormenting me." Jon was saying, without a filter now. "Lady Stark torments and belittles me and you do nothing. I ask you for a hint about who my Mother is, and you say nothing. I ask to leave; you tell me know even though staying at Winterfell will just cause more issues…"

"Take care how you speak." Ned warned him. "I have my reasons, Jon. You need to trust me."

"How can I?" Tears were forming in the boy's eyes. "Just tell me who she is, Father. Please."

Ned shook his head. "You're acting like a child. Seeing things that are not there. You are not ready for the truth that is plain to see."

Jon looked outraged. "I…"

Ned didn't let him finish. "Your place is at Winterfell. Your place is by Robb's side training with him so that you are both ready for when he takes over as Lord of Winterfell. I'm sorry Jon, it's my fault that you feel so worthless in Winterfell, but we are not owed anything. A man such as you are destined to be needs to prove himself worthy."

"I have been." Jon said through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you here?" Ned asked, willing this conversation to be over before he said something he regretted. "Until you show me that you can act like a man grown, we will speak no more of your Mother or any titles you feel you should have been granted, am I understood?"

Jon just nodded. He went to leave the room, shoulders slouched, when he turned around once more. "Can you tell me anything about her? Please?"

Ned sighed, throwing himself back into his chair. Nodding, he said quietly. "Her last request, she begged me to protect you, to look after you. And I swear, everything I am doing is to that end. You may not believe me, but it is true. I do not mean to be cruel; I mean to protect you."

Jon felt a tear fall down his cheek then as one of his worst fears were realised by his words. "Her last request?" Jon asked, his voice breaking.

Ned was in anguish as well. 'Promise me, Ned.' "I'm sorry Jon. I truly am." He whispered.

Jon could only nod the once before fleeing the room. Ned held his hand out to see that it was shaking. Sighing loudly, he poured himself some ale and downed it quickly. Someday he would have to tell Jon the truth, but he wasn't ready yet, and he wasn't sure that he ever would be.

Meanwhile in the training yard Torrhen was giving Cregan Glenmore a bruising with a blunted blade. After the fourth time of battering Cregan to the ground, the Glenmore just stayed on the ground, panting. "No, I'm done." He wheezed.

Torrhen grinned and held an arm out for Cregan to take. "You just need to keep an eye on your shield, you lower it too much."

Cregan rolled his eyes but took the hand anyway, hauling himself up to his feet. "This is why I'm an archer." He grumbled.

"You need to be able to wield multiple weapons." Ser Rodrik Cassel came over to them both. "You never know when you may need to handle yourself in closer quarters."

Cregan nodded, not wanting to complain to the knight. "You fought well though." Torrhen admitted. "You gave me some good whacks."

"Not enough." Ser Rodrik told him. "You're getting arrogant. Arrogance is…"

"A swordsman's downfall." Torrhen knew the phrase. "Apologies, Ser Rodrik."

Ser Rodrik just smirked and held his hand out for the weapons. "Go on, I think you're expected elsewhere lad."

Torrhen was confused, but he noticed Mira walking over to them both. "My Lady." He bowed his head. "I apologise for my appearance."

"I think I can deal with you when you've been sweating in the training yard, Torrhen." Mira grinned. "I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk?"

Torrhen nodded happily. "Of course." He turned to Cregan. "I'll meet you later?"

Cregan nodded, unsure of how to act in front of Mira. "Urm, yes sure. I'll see you at dinner."

"You're Cregan, right?" Mira asked, knowing full well who he was as Torrhen talked about him enough. "From House Glenmore?"

"Y… yes My Lady." Cregan stumbled. "My sister is wed to your brother."

Mira smiled brightly. "Well that makes us family then." She told him. Looking up at Torrhen, she then added. "Shall we?"

Torrhen nodded, slapping Cregan on the back in farewell before he offered Mira his arm. They walked around Winterfell for a bit, passing the Lichyard of all the former Stark servants and the abandoned First Keep, and close to that was the Broken Tower, the ruined tower having been abandoned and left to fall into disrepair after it was struck by lightning over 100 years earlier.

"It's still beautiful." Mira said softly. "Winterfell, I remember being in awe the first time I was here and that hasn't changed.

Torrhen nodded. "It has it's perks." He looked up at the First Keep grimly. "Bran was pushed from there."

Mira grabbed his hand in her own. "Tor…"

"It's alright." Torrhen insisted with a weak smile. "He needed to fall, he needed to open his third eye or whatever it was. That doesn't mean it still doesn't spook me."

Mira nodded. "I understand. I dread to think what it would be like to see King's Landing again, or even Highgarden."

Torrhen squeezed her hand in an act of comfort. "Looking at it also makes me nervous." He admitted.

"How so?" Mira asked.

"King Robert coming North to Winterfell, Jaime and Cersei Lannister fucking, none of that will happen." He sighed. "I have to think that what we are doing is good, that we're protecting and saving lives, but what if I'm making everything worse? What if the wars to come are even more deadly than the ones we know?"

Mira smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. "You can't think that way, Tor. What you have done has been good for us, for the North. Ethan is betrothed to a Tallhart, House Karstark and Umber are now linked by marriage instead of squabbling… you're tying the North together in a way that hasn't been seen since the Andal invasion."

"I know, I just have a feeling like there's something we're missing." Torrhen sighed. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

Mira just chuckled lightly. "No." She said, running her hand through his hair. "You're worrying about the larger picture. You're being a King."

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. A smile formed on his lips as they kissed, and Torrhen truly believed that maybe he was overreacting, and everything would be ok.

The feasts had died down a bit, but the Lords and Ladies of the North that had stayed at Winterfell in preparation for the wedding of Robb Stark and Wylla Manderly, and that was most of them, still ate together on an evening. The same night of Torrhen's trip to the broken tower with Mira he found himself sat with his younger sister Arya as she was firing question after question to Cregan Glenmore about anything related to the bow.

Torrhen wasn't paying too much attention, he was staring over towards his twin sister, who was sat giggling with Domeric Bolton. Not sure what he should think about it, he was quickly elbowed in the ribs by Arya.

"Seven hells." He winced. "What was that for?"

"You're ignoring us!" Arya exclaimed. "How far can you shoot?"

Torrhen thought about it for a moment, not really sure. "I don't know Arya; I've not gone for distance with my new bow yet."

"Can we go now!" She asked excitedly.

Torrhen shook his head. "We're busy. I'm busy."

"You're moping because Mira couldn't come tonight, and Sansa is all loved up with her new betrothed." Arya grinned. Torrhen rolled his eyes and shoved his younger sister off of the bench she was sat on. Cregan laughed along and was splitting his sides when Arya came and dumped the rest of her broth on Torrhen's head.

"Right." Torrhen exclaimed, standing up to look at Arya's mischievous expression. "That's it!"

He ran towards her, laughing along as Arya fled the room. He chased her out into the courtyard where a light dusting of snow had begun to fall, until he finally caught her in the stables and picked her up over his shoulders.

"Let me go!" She shrieked, giggling as she tried kicking out to free herself. Torrhen held firm though, before dumping her in the hay inside the stables. Torrhen pinned her down and rubbed her hair with his knuckles, making her squirm.

"Apologise and I'll let you go." He told her.

"Ne… never!" Arya laughed, writhing from underneath him. Torrhen continued attacking her hair then until she finally said. "Ok I'm sorry!"

Grinning in victory, Torrhen got back up and helped Arya up. "You best get back to the feast." He told her. "And if Cregan is happy with it, you can take my new bow out and see how far it fires."

"Really?" Arya asked, wide eyed in excitement. "Thank you!"

She crashed into him and hugged him, Torrhen ruffled her hair again. "Now go and let me change, you've ruined my shirt."

Arya shrugged. "It was funny though." She told him before running off.

Torrhen shook his head at her antics before he quickly made his way into his room. He whipped his shirt off and found a clean, black one. He had only just managed to tuck it in nicely when a familiar knocking pattern of five knocks came from the door, one that he and Sansa had used since they were small. He walked back over to the door and rapped it three times, before opening the door.

"Mother wasn't happy." Sansa warned him.

Torrhen shrugged. "We were having fun."

Sansa had the faintest grin on her lips. "She scolded Arya when she got back. I wouldn't go down if I were you or you'll be helping Hodor out for a week."

Groaning, Torrhen threw himself on his bed. "I almost can't wait to move over to the Moat. I can set my own rules."

"You'll be away from us though." Sansa pouted, sitting delicately next to him. Torrhen sat himself upright and took her hand.

"You'll be moving away too before you know it." He said gently. "And you seem to get on well with Domeric."

Sansa couldn't contain the grin that found its way onto her face. "He's wonderful Tor!" She exclaimed. "He sings, he plays the harp, he writes me small poems on a morning. He rides as well as anybody that Father has ever seen and Lord Redfort says that he will be a famous tourney knight! I can't believe that he's the son of Lord Bolton, they're so different."

Torrhen couldn't help but feel happy for his sister. "I'm glad you get on so well, truly." He squeezed her hand. "Just be careful… the Bolton's aren't trustworthy."

Sansa pulled her hand away and looked at him scoldingly. "Dom is." She insisted. "He's a kind, honest man. He talks to me about how much he loved the Vale, how he misses Lord Redfort's sons. He's going to find his bastard brother once he leaves Winterfell and be his friend. Isn't he sweet?"

Torrhen's eyes shot open in horror. "What did you say?" He whispered darkly.

Sansa was confused. "He's… he's going to find his brother." She said quietly.

Torrhen shook his head, and all his fears from earlier with Mira were realised once more. He got to his feet and began to pace along the floor. "No, no no this can't happen." He whispered to himself.

"You're scaring me." Sansa said firmly. "What are you talking about?"

Torrhen turned to her. "His bastard brother is dangerous, Sansa. The most dangerous man in the North. He's evil, pure evil."

"Jon isn't…" Sansa began.

"Jon was brought up with us, he knows us as his family and we've never really treated him any differently." Torrhen said quickly, beginning to panic. He remembered his cover story. "I've dreamed of the Bastard of Bolton. He flays his enemies and he hunts women with packs of dogs, naming new hounds after the more spirited ones. He's a vile, foul little creature that's always been jealous of Dom's place in the succession."

Sansa was terrified at the thought. "That's not true." She whispered.

Torrhen couldn't stay and explain. "I have to go." He insisted. He barrelled out of the door and sprinted away, although he wasn't sure if he was going to go to his Father, or Domeric.

It was late when Ned summoned Roose Bolton to his solar, but the Lord of the Dreadfort came all the same. He entered the room to see a tired looking Ned Stark. "Lord Stark."

"Lord Bolton." Ned greeted. "Please, sit."

Roose did as he was asked. "Is something the matter?"

Ned just nodded. "Your son."

That surprised Roose. "Has Domeric offended you in any way? Has he dishonoured Lady Sansa?"

Ned shook his head firmly. "No, not at all." Roose breathed a sigh of relief. "Domeric has been the perfect gentleman. Sansa is quite enamoured with the boy. No, this is about your other son."

Roose froze. "I have no other sons." He said quickly.

Ned almost laughed. "My son, Torrhen. You know of his dreams, right?" Roose nodded, although he was still disbelieving. "He dreamed of your son; Ramsay is it? And all the things that he does in your lands."

"Things?"

Ned looked at Roose blankly. "I'm going to speak bluntly, Lord Bolton. Your son is a criminal. Any other holding and he would have been put to death ten times over for the crimes he has committed. Murder, flaying? And you allow this."

"I don't allow anything." Roose said bitterly. "He has been warned numerous times."

Ned was glad that Roose was starting to be honest. "And now I have dark rumours reaching my ears. Rumours that he is planning to kill both you and your son in order to take power at the Dreadfort."

"That will never happen, Lord Stark." Roose said quickly.

"You can guarantee that?" Ned asked. Roose couldn't answer. "Look, I understand your position, if any of my sons did those things then I may find it hard to bring the proper justice too but think of my position too. If this bastard wishes harm upon you and your son, I cannot in good faith send my daughter to the Dreadfort, not if her life is in danger by going there."

Roose clenched his teeth together and glared at his liege lord. "What would you have me do?" He asked. "He is still my seed, whether I like that fact or not. I will not become a kinslayer, Lord Stark. I would not have the Gods curse me as such."

Ned nodded. "That need not be the case at all, Lord Bolton." He pushed a document in front of Roose. "But until he is dealt with, I cannot sanction the betrothal we've agreed upon. I will not send Sansa where she can be reached by such a man."

Roose looked at the document and saw it was their own betrothal contract. He read it over and noticed that the original dowry figure had been crossed out and tripled. "Lord Stark…" He tried to protest.

"I wish our houses to be joined, Lord Bolton." Ned said firmly. "I truly do, but I will not allow it while that madman runs loose committing his crimes."

Roose just stood up and took a breath. "I accept your amendment." He said unhappily. "It seems I have no choice in the matter. But Lord Stark, I will have no part of this."

Ned nodded. "I understand." He said calmly. "And I hope this can begin a long and fruitful relationship between our two houses. After all, we will share grandchildren one day."

Ned couldn't sleep that night, and he found himself walking along Winterfell's ramparts with his thoughts racing. It was still snowing softly, and he always found the cold soothing.

One person who didn't agree was his wife. Catelyn walked towards him wrapped up in at least two cloaks, tightly clinging to them with her gloved hands. "It's barely dawn." She said to him as she reached him. "What troubles you?"

"More and more with each passing day." Ned admitted. "I hate to say it, but I'll be glad when Robb is wed and the Manderly's are tied to us by marriage."

Cat was surprised. "What have you heard?"

Ned sighed and shook his head. "Speculation, nothing more. Roose Bolton's bastard has been causing trouble for years and yet Roose does nothing about it."

Cat bristled at the word she hated. "He must have his reasons." She told him.

"He needed a second option in case Domeric died." Ned explained bitterly. "He would raise a monster up to be his heir. We came to an agreement though."

Cat nodded, knowing that she would likely not get any more information than that. They stared out towards the East for a few moments, watching as the few occupants of the Wintertown that stayed in the summer years started their days.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted with a shout from the guards, however. "Open the gates!"

Cat looked down to see half a dozen riders racing away, Stark banners on their flanks, and her eyes were drawn to the leader riding the jet black destrier. "What is he doing?" She hissed.

"It's ok Cat." Ned said, resigned.

"Our son has just ridden out of the castle gates without so much as a goodbye with a handful of men and that's ok?" She asked. Ned just nodded. "What is he doing?"

Ned sighed once more and stared out to where the horses were thundering away towards the Wintertown heading Eastwards. "He's going to secure Roose Bolton's loyalty." Ned told her. "He's going to kill Ramsay Snow."