Chapter 15: King's Landing

299 AC

It had been 8 months since Robb Stark's wedding, and Moat Cailin was already drastically different. Whereas before the ruin had had three crumbling towers, now there was just a simple main keep. The Northmen had decided to just knock the entire castle down, repurposing the stone of the towers to create a base for the castle and building the central keep to house Torrhen and his future family in. They had expanded the circumference of the castle as well, drying the bog out where they needed to and laying stone down to level it before beginning on the massive project of building 100-foot walls around the area, with 9 towers being placed equidistant around the walls. It would be a fortress when completed, but for now the only real defences were the wooden palisades and the humble stone keep.

Torrhen had settled in nicely, his own personal banner flying from the top of the keep and his household having been settled in as well. There was still a long way to go, but the motivation of the Northman to rebuild their strongest defence was of the like he had never seen.

The Stark stared out of his chambers window towards the North, having chosen this room specifically for the direction. The sun was starting to get lower in the sky, and he watched as a line of empty wagons departed up the Kingsroad to fetch more stones, bricks and other supplies. His attention was taken by a rap at the door. "Lord Stark?"

Torrhen groaned. "I've told you time and again, Pylos. Lord Stark is my Father."

The door opened, and the young Maester entered Torrhen's chambers. Pylos had originally been hand-picked for an assignment to Dragonstone to replace the old Maester there when he died, but as soon as Ned had written to the Citadel to request a Maester for the Moat, the Archmaesters had snapped up the opportunity to send him to serve a Stark. Torrhen liked Pylos though, he was extremely knowledgeable and a kind man as well. "Apologies, Lord Torrhen." He held out a sealed raven message. "A raven came from Winterfell."

Torrhen walked over and grabbed the raven message, snapping the seal and unfurling the parchment. His eyes scanned the words written down, and he nodded. "Go and tell Daryn that he is in full command of Moat Cailin for the time being. I'm to leave for White Harbour tonight."

Pylos bowed. "Very good, My Lord." And with that he left the room. Torrhen moved back to the window of his chambers and looked in the vague direction of Winterfell. He looked out into the mist of the North, determined that this trip to King's Landing wouldn't end in disaster.

Usually it would have to be something that enraged Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, to bring him down into the Small Council chamber. For once however, he was beyond excited. Surrounded by two members of the Kingsguard the rather large man pushed open the doors, much to the surprise of his Small Council.

"Your Grace." Jon Arryn, the Warden of the East and Hand of the King, was surprised to see him and rose to his feet, closely followed by the other members of the council. "We weren't expecting you."

Robert just had a grin on his face and held a raven message out for them all to see the grey broken seal. "Ned's coming!"

"Lord Stark?" Varys, the spymaster, questioned.

Robert nodded. "He has written to say that he needs to talk to us all about something in person."

Jon Arryn thought about that. "He's written to us, yet his news is too secret to be sent by raven."

"This is most strange." Baelish commented.

"Strange?" Robert snorted the question. "Ned's coming! We'll have a tournament, show his frozen bones the wonders of the South!"

Stannis Baratheon wanted to groan. "Can we afford it?"

Robert waved that off. "You'll find a way I'm sure. But get it done." He began to walk away, just shaking his head amusedly and repeating. "Ned's coming here!"

Jon Arryn agreed with Baelish, however. "We have heard nothing from the North in months. Not a single whisper from any castle in the realm North of the Neck."

"Not even my little birds sing songs about the North." Varys said in his songful voice. "The most I have gotten is that travellers are being turned away from the Causeway and must travel to White Harbour where they are kept under watch."

"Has Lord Stark ever been this paranoid?" Pycelle asked them.

Jon shook his head. "No, never." He answered. He sighed, shaking his head. "Well we shall have to plan this tourney even though Ned will find it tacky and dull."

"I can borrow it from Tywin Lannister again." Baelish remarked. Jon shook his head though.

"No, we've been down that road far too often." He told Baelish. "Speak to Lord Tyrell. No doubt he will want to compete and defend his title. Ask him to lend us some coin."

"I'll write to him." Renly said, too quickly. "I'll persuade him that it is in his best interests." Baelish bowed his head deeply in acceptance.

Stannis read the note that Robert had left on the table as Renly was saying that, and then held it out to Jon. "Lord Eddard is bringing two of his sons."

Jon took the message and skimmed it with his aging eyes. "Torrhen and Brandon." He read. "Then we shall need an archery competition, young Torrhen Stark is quite the marksman I am told."

"And a melee." Baelish added. "The Northerners are fond of that brutish tradition."

Jon ran his hand over his balding head. "This is going to be expensive…" He mumbled. He looked around the room. "That's enough for one day, I believe."

The occupants of the room began to empty at the dismissal, save for Stannis Baratheon. The Lord of Dragonstone made sure that everyone was out of hearing range before he said quickly. "What of the matter that I discussed?"

Jon looked over sharply. "It's a treasonous accusation."

Stannis nodded. "And one I do not make lightly, Lord Hand. But I swear it, on my life Robert has no trueborn issue."

"We need proof, Lord Stannis." Jon sighed, his old age catching up to him. "I know Joffrey is difficult and the Princes and Princess look like their mother alone, but words alone cannot prove it."

Stannis nodded curtly. "I may have found a bastard, and you know about the one in the Vale."

"Mya." Jon was reminded. "One bastard isn't enough. Two will likely not be enough."

Stannis looked at the old man grimly. "Luckily Robert is a promiscuous man and will have many running around."

"Then find them." Jon said. Stannis bowed quickly and left the room, determined to prove his discovery.

For all the changes that Torrhen had seen, he was bemused to see one thing remain the same. The Lord of Moat Cailin stood upon the docks of White Harbour looking out at the ship that was due to take them to King's Landing and recognised it instantly. The bow of the brand-new ship was carved intricately into the Stark sigil, a Direwolf head with the fur being the same pattern as on the Stark banner. Ned found it impressive, but Torrhen just laughed.

"Frostfang." Lord Wyman announced proudly.

Torrhen grinned knowingly. "A fine name, Lord Wyman."

"Only the best for you, Lord Stark." Wyman bowed his head to Ned. "She is the fastest ship that we have ever built, so hopefully you won't be gone for too long."

Ned appreciated that. He hadn't left at the best time with Catelyn so pregnant, but the news that met him as they first entered White Harbour was that he had a new daughter that Cat had named Sara. Willing this all to be over, he took the first steps onto the brand-new ship.

Bran was overawed too, staring at the Direwolf on the front. "Are they all going to be like this?" He asked.

"No." Wyman admitted. "Most will be simpler, but I thought for our flagship, your flagship, we could try something a bit different."

Torrhen thought it was wonderful, but the amusement of a ship being the same as in his other time was still in his mind. He was the next one to step onto the ship as the Stark party began boarding.

Ned was being extremely cautious, and they had taken a healthy number of guards with them, with around 80 men in Stark armour piling onto the boat as well as a member of the Night's Watch that Torrhen didn't recognise. Bran was the last on, after being scolded by Ned for taking too long. Torrhen went straight for his cabin though, shutting the door and opening a chest that had been filled for him from Winterfell.

Septon Chayle had been hard at work scouring the extensive library for any mention of Obsidian and had found at least a dozen books that would be useful. Settling himself in for a long journey, Torrhen grabbed the first book titled 'Legends of the Long Night' and opened it up.

Benjen Stark stood atop the Wall staring outwards. The wind was howling around him, yet years of experience left him as unmoving as a statue. The woods looked quiet, and if he was being honest with himself Benjen was itching to get back out there.

His thoughts were interrupted by one of the newer recruits, Lord Royce's son Waymar Royce. "First Ranger." He greeted.

Benjen turned to the Valeman. "Ser Waymar." He returned.

"Lord Commander Mormont would like to see you." Waymar told him.

Benjen nodded. "I'll be down shortly."

Waymar stayed there though. "I'm to relieve your watch."

Benjen knew that he couldn't wait any longer then, and passed the younger man, bidding him farewell as he went. He entered the cage that would lower him to Castle Black and slammed the gate behind him, waiting for the creaking of the mechanics to begin bringing him down. It always seemed to take an age, but eventually the cage reached the bottom of the Wall and Benjen stepped out onto the wooden platform and made his way through the courtyard, staying out of the way of Ser Alliser Throne shouting at some helpless recruit.

Moments later he was sat inside the Lord Commander's solar sipping on ale. Mormont was sat by the fire scribbling out on parchment. "Royce seems to be eager." Mormont noted.

"Too eager." Benjen commented. "And arrogant to boot."

Mormont chuckled. "You were the same when we joined."

Benjen remembered. "The follies of youth." He chuckled. Moving on to business, Mormont handed Benjen the letter that he had just signed. "You're giving Greyguard to Ser Jaremy?"

"Aye." Mormont said. "He's one of our most experienced men, and with the number of new recruits we've had in the last year they'll need a firm hand."

Benjen couldn't disagree. In the last year since Ned's declaration there had been a steady stream of recruits from the Northern houses. Greybeards and young men just old enough mainly, but the Watch didn't care. It had been so much that Mormont had been able to reopen some of the disused castles, Greyguard to the west of them was already mainly rebuilt. "And Rimegate?" He asked about the other castle that the Watch had decided to rebuild to their east.

"It's close to Umber lands." Mormont acknowledged. "And old Whoresbane has been a strong presence since joining."

"A clever man." Benjen nodded, remembering the Greatjon's uncle had once been to the Citadel. "My goodsister always called him a hoary old brigand."

Mormont grinned. "I've known him for decades, and I'm thankful that he's agreed to join the Watch now." He admitted. "He's a fine leader of men, but Lady Catelyn isn't wrong."

Benjen chuckled too. "Where next?"

Mormont looked over a map of the Wall. "I wanted to avoid the Nightfort, but it's in the best location. Not until we're overflowing at all 5 other castles however."

"It'll be expensive to run." Benjen commented.

"Your brother promises me that we will have the gold we need to open all the castles." Mormont shrugged. "How he is going to pull that off I do not know."

Benjen didn't either, Ned had been extremely careful to not make mention of where this money was coming from. "Moat Cailin, Sea Dragon Point, the Gift… Ned is making expensive moves."

"And good ones, too." Mormont said firmly. "If he is right…"

"He is." Benjen said grimly. "I've seen them."

Mormont looked concerned. "Then we need all the help that we can get."

With Ned away and Catelyn predisposed, Robb had been almost reliant on Maester Luwin and his wife for guidance. Luckily the most important issue to deal with had been the movement of materials to go towards both Moat Cailin and Sea Dragon Point, the site of the new port town and castle on the west coast and that could be managed easily enough.

He spent most of his time at court, something that he had gotten used to in the last year or so as Ned had included Robb in a large part of what he did. Luwin went over every decision, but so far Robb was doing well, or so he thought. Still in the back of his mind though was a hint of doubt garnered from Torrhen's stories.

Putting that to one side however, Robb decided he should go and visit his Mother. She got tired easily now due to her bringing up the baby herself rather than handing her over to wet nurses, and so Wylla had taken on many of her duties to give Cat the time to spend with the baby.

He reached Cat's chambers and knocked on the door. "Mother, it's me."

"Come in, Robb." Came Cat's voice. He opened the door and saw Cat sat in her chair sewing, and Rickon sat on the bed looking over into the baby's crib. As soon as Rickon saw Robb he leapt up and ran across the bed, jumping off of it to be caught by his elder brother.

"Robb!" He exclaimed.

"Shhh." Cat hissed. "I've just got Sara to go to sleep."

Robb was chuckling silently as he places Rickon down. "Apologies Mother."

"How was court?" She asked.

Robb shrugged, sitting down on the bed and stroking his new sister's cheek. She had Sansa's auburn hair and blue eyes. "Hullen needed more food for the horses, Septon Chayle wants an assistant with the Library. A standard day."

"Sitting there must be boring." Rickon complained. "You can't do anything fun!"

Robb grinned. "You'll have to do it one day."

"No!" Rickon grinned right back. "I'll be a knight! I'll run to Essos and be famous!"

Robb smirked, poking him in the belly repeatedly. "How are you going to be a famous knight if you can't protect yourself from being poked!" Robb asked. Rickon squealed with laughter, trying to fight Robb off. He rolled away and started climbing on Robb's back when the baby began to cry again.

"Boys." Cat said exasperatedly as she put her needlework down to pick up the baby.

"Sorry Mother." They both said together. Robb watched as Cat settled down Sara, who fell asleep almost straight away in her arms. It made him think of his own wife and what their children would be like.

Rickon wasn't thinking anything of the sort, however. "I will be a knight." He said, folding his arms in mock grumpiness.

"Then mayhaps it's time you learnt how to swing a sword." Robb suggested.

That lit up Rickon's eyes. He stared up at Robb hopefully. "Can I?"

Robb looked at Cat, who a year or so ago would have forbidden it. So much had happened since however that she just shrugged. "If Ser Rodrik agrees."

"Yeah!" Rickon pumped his little fist in the air. Robb shook his head warningly though.

"You must put the work in, Rickon." He told him honestly. "It's not an easy skill. Look at Jon, what does he do every day?"

"He's in the yard." Rickon answered.

Robb nodded. "He's practicing. And now he's the best swordsman in Winterfell because of it."

"For now." Rickon grinned cheekily. Robb laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Aye, for now." He repeated. "Come on then, let us leave Mother alone."

Rickon nodded and leaned towards his Mother so she could kiss his cheek before running away. Robb was slower, but Cat stopped him quickly. "Is he old enough?"

Robb smirked, knowing that her fears weren't all gone. "He is." Robb confirmed. "And he needs to learn. Winter is Coming after all."

Cat rolled her eyes. "Those damned words." She said. "Go on, he listens to you, make sure he's sensible and listens to Ser Rodrik."

Robb nodded, kissing his Mother on the cheek and stroking Sara's head before he went.

The Street of Steel was always bustling with activity. The clanging of hammers on forges rang out during the days and it was always packed with men and horses, with knights looking to buy or repair armour. Jon Arryn had rarely been down there, not having picked up a sword since the Battle of the Trident. He felt a bit odd walking down there at the side of Stannis Baratheon and a dozen guards of both Arryn and Baratheon allegiance, but as soon as Stannis had told him that he had found one of the supposed bastards, Jon had to see for himself.

They climbed up Visenya's Hill, stopping before they came to the road towards the Sept of Baelor in front of one of the more famous shops on the street, Tobho Mott's. Jon looked inside and saw a couple of people working, though he couldn't identify any features.

"He's an apprentice." Stannis explained. "Someone gave him to Mott as a child."

Jon nodded. "Very well, I'll have a word with him."

Stannis bowed his head and turned on his heels leaving Jon too it, knowing that they needed to be delicate in their investigations. Jon meanwhile made his men wait where they were and entered the shop. The forge was in the middle of the room, with the younger man hammering away at some steel. The elder man looked up and noticed Jon in the doorway, springing upright when he saw the Hand pin on Jon's clothing.

"Lord Hand!" Tobho Mott exclaimed. "An honour, My Lord. What can I do for you?"

Jon Arryn smiled generously. "I've not owned a sword in nearly 15 years, and your shop is by far the most highly spoken about. Could you make something for me?"

Tobho grinned greedily. "Why of course. Come, let me take measurements and we shall craft you the perfect blade."

Jon moved further into the shop as Tobho Mott got out some rope to measure Jon, but while he was doing so, Jon was staring at the apprentice, who was pounding away at a breastplate now. "Your apprentice is strong." Jon noted. Gendry stopped for a second as he heard Jon talking about him but carried on quickly.

"He's a gift from the Gods." Tobho praised.

"What is his name?" Jon asked.

Tobho looked over towards the forge. "Gendry!" He called. "Get over here."

The boy did as he was asked, and as his face became clearer to Jon, the elder Warden of the East almost gasped. He was the spitting image of Robert when he was a similar age. "Gendry, is it?"

"Yes milord." Gendry nodded.

"Do you enjoy working here?" Jon asked.

Gendry just nodded, "I do milord. Keeps me busy and Master Mott is a good teacher."

Jon smiled. "Good lad. Have you made anything yourself?"

Gendry shrugged. "Some swords, a shield. I want to make my own helm soon but I'm not ready yet."

Tobho had finished his measurements and was jotting them down. Jon just smiled at the boy. "I'm sure you'll make a fine helm, lad. Go on, don't let me keep you." Gendry bowed awkwardly and returned to his breastplate, picking up the hammer and going at it once more. Jon moved over to Tobho Mott. "When did you take him on?"

Tobho thought for a moment. "It must be almost seven years now, Lord Hand. A stout, bearded man came to my shop and paid me double to take him on. Best business I've ever done!" Tobho chuckled.

That intrigued Jon. "Do you know who it was?"

"No, Lord Hand." Tobho said honestly. "He wore a hood."

That was even more intriguing. Jon thanked Tobho Mott, who promised his sword would be ready in a week, and the Hand of the King left the shop, his mind spinning at the thought of a stranger knowing about Gendry, and what else the bearded man knew.