Chapter 17: Growing Stronger

The melee was chaotic. Men on horseback just trying to batter one another until one man was left standing. Torrhen absolutely loved it, although he was still gutted that Ned hadn't let him enter.

"You're a 13-year-old boy, Torrhen." The Lord of Winterfell had said sternly. "No matter your experiences that still counts for something."

No argument about the prize money would sway Ned, so Torrhen stayed in the stands cheering for Jory Cassel instead. The Captain of the Guards got knocked out late on in the tournament, leaving Ser Lyle Crakehall as the winner.

The jousts started that afternoon, and the first tilt was between the defending champion of Joffrey's 12th nameday tourney and a hedge knight that Torrhen didn't even recognise. He waited for the announcer to call them out and was in for a shock when he did.

"Introducing Ser Will the Stork!" The announcer cried out. The hedge knight played up to the crowd, only getting a few cheers from some of the Stormlanders in attendance. "To face the Lord of Highgarden himself, Lord Loras Tyrell!"

Torrhen was baffled. "What?" He said aloud. "Mace Tyrell is the Lord of Highgarden."

"Don't be stupid." Bran rolled his eyes from beside Torrhen. "Mace Tyrell died years ago."

Torrhen faced Ned questioningly, who nodded. "Aye, we got a raven some three years back. A hunting accident or something."

Torrhen leant back in his chair rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But he lived until the Sept blew up." He whispered.

"Sorry?" Ned asked.

"This isn't right. Mace Tyrell was killed 7 years in the future." Torrhen said quietly. Ned looked at him, alarmed.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Positive." Torrhen said. "I met him when I was taken to Highgarden after Renly died."

Ned looked almost ill. "What does that mean?"

"The last time something changed so drastically that wasn't directly caused by us in some way." Torrhen began quietly so Bran didn't hear. "Was when Asher Forrester died."

"Mira…" Ned whispered. He looked across to the other side of the tiltyard and saw the Tyrell's in their own separate box. Olenna was sat down staring at the joust with a firm expression, and Margaery was stood up applauding loudly shouting for Highgarden, with Renly Baratheon stood next to her slightly more composed.

Torrhen was watching the same box. "It means that somebody close to Lord Mace also remembers my time."

Ned shook his head. "I dread to think who would be better." He groaned.

A large tent had been put up after the first day of jousting had finished where the highborn all gathered for a feast. Torrhen just sat down in his place eating only what he needed to as he kept an eye on everyone that he could.

He noticed Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon talking and boasting about the formers victory, while Margaery listened on laughing loudly at certain times. Olenna Tyrell was sat in her chair chatting to Jon Arryn. Torrhen also noted the royal bastards. Joffrey was drinking as much wine as he could while the younger two behaved themselves under the scrutiny of Cersei.

Bran was also slightly uncomfortable not knowing anybody. His younger brother quickly turned to Torrhen, whispering. "I need to piss, where do I go?"

Torrhen chuckled. "Come, Bran. I'll take you."

Bran scowled. "I don't need help, you know. I am 9." He stood up anyway.

"I know." Torrhen held his hands up in mock surrender. "But I don't want you getting lost and ending up in a bowl of brown."

Bran loved the scarier stories, and so as the pair left the tent to find a secluded space, Torrhen told him what he knew of the bowls of brown they served in Fleabottom. They found a tree out of the way, and Torrhen turned his back to Bran as the younger boy went, only to spot Prince Joffrey stumbling over towards them. "Old Gods, calm my hand." He whispered. "I don't want to kill him yet."

"Ah!" Joffrey slurred. "The wolf pups!"

"My Prince." Torrhen said through gritted teeth. "The feast is the other way."

"I know that." Joffrey told him. "I came to see the children of the man my Father won't stop prattling on about." The bastard looked Torrhen up and down, seeing only the dyed black armour of the North. "Not very lordly."

"We don't care for material things in the North." Torrhen told him, wishing this to be over. "All of your jewels, you've enough wealth on your person to feed an entire village for a month."

"And don't you forget that." Joffrey said, staggering slightly as he pushed his finger into Torrhen's chest.

Torrhen almost growled. "I would ask that you keep your hands off of me, my Prince."

"And I would ask that you remember that I am to be your King." Joffrey scowled, pushing Torrhen again. "You don't talk to me like that, pup."

"You are not my King yet." Torrhen said, standing his ground. Joffrey looked outraged. He turned round expecting Sandor Clegane to back him up, before realising he was on his own after stumbling out of the tent.

"How dare you." Joffrey wagged a finger before laughing. "I'm surprised you didn't enter the melee, we only put that on for you Northern savages. I suppose the archery is safer though."

"No Starks entered the melee." Torrhen said, moving slightly closer and lowering his voice menacingly. "Because when we fight somebody for real, we don't want them to know what we can do."

"Torrhen." Bran's voice said. Torrhen looked behind him. "I'm finished."

Torrhen smiled at Bran. "Good, we'll head back in then." He turned back to Joffrey. "If you'll excuse us."

Joffrey turned to Bran. "I'm surprised a runt like you didn't need big brother to wipe your arse for you too." Bran looked up to Torrhen worriedly, but Torrhen just pushed Bran away past the blonde-haired bastard and began moving to the tent. "Don't you walk away from me, you Northern cunt!"

Torrhen swung around, rage in his eyes. He knew he had to remain calm, but Joffrey was testing his patience. "Excuse me, Prince Joffrey?" He snarled.

"You heard me." Joffrey said, slightly less aggressively as before when he saw Torrhen's eyes narrow.

Torrhen took a step towards Joffrey, his fists clenched. "You best be careful how you treat people, my Prince." He snarled the title. "Someday somebody might actually have a weapon when you insult them and their homeland."

Joffrey caught the threat. "You dare." He growled.

"I dare." Torrhen repeated. "If I were you, I'd run back to the Queen and hide behind her skirts."

"Torrhen!" Ned called from behind them. "Here, now."

Joffrey grinned. "Run back to daddy."

Torrhen was about to pummel Joffrey's smug face but took a deep breath and relaxed. He gathered enough saliva in his mouth and spat at the ground in front of Joffrey's feet. "We'll have to do this again sometime, my Prince." Torrhen bowed his head politely before making his way back to his father.

"What in Seven Hells was that all about?" Ned whispered harshly. "Bran came running in telling me that you were about to kill each other."

"One day, I will stick my sword through his eye." Torrhen growled lightly.

Ned looked around carefully. "Not here." He whispered. "He's untouchable here."

The second round had begun early the next morning, and once again Lord Loras Tyrell was in the first tilt, this time riding against Ser Hosteen Frey. Torrhen had seen the gang of Frey's preparing as he walked towards his seat and was visibly angry at the sight of them all enjoying themselves, compounded by the reminder of Joffrey from the night before. Keeping his head down he briskly walked over to his seat, where this time the Tyrell party had been invited to share the royal box with them. Ned hadn't arrived yet, and it was just Bran already at the box sat down with Jory.

"Not a fan of House Frey?" An elderly voice was heard behind him. Torrhen turned and saw the wrinkled old face of Olenna Tyrell.

"Lady Olenna." He greeted. He turned to face the two knights preparing to joust. "They are only out for themselves. I'm sure you know about their actions in the Rebellion turning up late to see who won. I don't trust them."

"Too right and all." Olenna said proudly. "Give them a chance and they'll stab everyone in the back to rise in power."

'If only you knew.' Torrhen thought. He watched on as the first tilt ended in a stalemate before turning back around. "I was sorry to hear about Lord Mace. It was very unexpected."

Olenna looked at him oddly. "Unexpected is an interesting word."

"Grandmother." Margaery warned.

Olenna held her hands up. "I'm just saying. He was an oaf; his own father rode his horse off of a cliff so why couldn't the son die on a hunting trip. At least he was doing something he enjoyed, I'd rather that then burn to death."

That's twice now that Torrhen had noticed a subtle reference to his other life. "To die while hunting is a very regal method of death, I suppose." He said quietly.

Olenna grinned. "I knew it. The King in the North arises." She said quietly.

Torrhen shushed her harshly. "Have care where we are, Lady Olenna." He looked around and thankfully they were out of range for anyone to hear.

"You're learning." Olenna told him with a smirk. "Meet me in my carriage tonight, it will be safer there. I fear we have much to discuss, Lord Torrhen."

As Lord Loras was facing off against Ser Hosteen Frey, Ned was back in Stannis' small office. "I felt it best we meet while the excitement goes on outside." Stannis told the Stark Lord.

"You have an answer for me, I presume." Ned said.

Stannis nodded. "I will agree to your terms. I will foster your son and betroth him to my daughter if you are sure that any children will take the name Baratheon."

Ned was happy with that. "I have 4 sons, and a daughter that's not likely to take a husband's name. House Stark will grow rapidly I am sure, House Baratheon only has you, your siblings and your daughter. You are in greater need."

Stannis appreciated that. "And I shall also arrange for the mining of the mountains on Dragonstone to begin. We can send regular shipments to White Harbour."

"I'd like one of the Manderly brothers to oversee that if you'll allow it." Ned told him.

Stannis bristled, but nodded. "I suppose your new family by marriage require more responsibilities?"

Ned snorted a laugh and nodded. "You know how vassals are, the more you give them the more they want."

Stannis couldn't agree more. "There is one other thing." He said. "Lord Arryn would like you to take his heir to Winterfell when you go. He was thinking of fostering him with me, but if all you say is true and Baelish is plotting against the Hand, we feel he'd be safer away from King's Landing."

Ned agreed, although he remembered something Torrhen had said when he explained his past life. "Do not tell my goodsister." Ned said warningly. "She will cause a scene and will likely aid Baelish if she feels Robin is being taken away from her."

Stannis was about to question that but thinking on it he realised that as unstable as Lysa was she would probably do something drastic. "I will make sure the Hand knows." Stannis told the Stark.

"Of course I'll take him." Ned said. "He's not to dissimilar in age to my youngest."

Feeling that this was all coming together, Stannis relaxed a bit more in his chair. "How long will you stay for?" He asked.

"Until the end of the tourney." Ned answered. "Too much needs seeing to in the North, I want to be ready by the time we make our move here."

The sun was setting as Torrhen got into the cramped, golden carriage. Olenna Tyrell was already inside, and as soon as Torrhen sat himself down they were hoisted up by the 8 Tyrell men tasked with carrying them, and they began moving through the city.

"So, you've finally joined me." Olenna noted.

"Finally?" Torrhen raised an eyebrow.

Olenna nodded. "Three years back I drunk poison. Highgarden had been taken, my son and grandchildren had been murdered, and Jaime Lannister gave me the kinder way out." She scoffed at that last bit. "Then I woke up. A man older than me told me that I was to go back in time and prepare the Reach for what is to come and to wait for Torrhen Stark. I woke up and my grandchildren were still alive. Highgarden remained strong and King Robert was still on the Iron Throne. But my son had died in a hunting accident."

"That seems to be a trend." Torrhen sighed. When Olenna cocked her head questioningly, he explained. "Mira Forrester, your granddaughter's handmaiden. Her brother died in exile this time and now she remembers."

"Ah, the one that didn't show up this time. That you fucked inside Highgarden." Olenna remembered. Torrhen was taken aback. "Don't gawk at me boy, I know what goes on inside my own castle."

Torrhen gulped but carried on. "I'm sorry about your son, My Lady. Truly."

Olenna nodded her acceptance of that. "It was a sad thing, but what really got me was Cersei Lannister still acting like she sits on the Throne. Her vicious son still living, and the fact that nobody can see through her as I can. I even thought about inviting Daenerys Targaryen to Highgarden, but with Loras swallowing Renly Baratheon's sword every 5 minutes I thought that would cause more trouble than it was worth."

"It's good that you didn't." Torrhen admitted. "Dany needs to go through her trials in Essos. We need the dragons more than anything."

"Dany." Olenna mocked. "Ah yes, I forgot that she was another one to bed you."

"Lady Olenna." Torrhen tried to be serious.

Olenna laughed. "You look like a child so much I sometimes forget that you likely still fancy yourself a King."

"I fancy myself alive." Torrhen bit back. "You died too early, My Lady. You don't know the true danger."

"Cersei is the enemy." Olenna growled. "I didn't have any choice in my time to depart the world."

"Neither did I." Torrhen snapped back.

Olenna was impressed. "Go on then. How did you die?"

Torrhen sighed. "After you died, Dany destroyed a large part of the army that took Highgarden. The war was in a stalemate and she didn't know what to do until she spoke with my brother, Jon. You remember the last thing I said to you, in that war council on Dragonstone?" Olenna nodded. "I said that I couldn't send my men South while we were threatened by the real war."

"I also recall that you never told me what that entailed." Olenna remarked.

"The dead." Torrhen said. Olenna just looked at him like he was mad. "I'm serious. All those stories of the Long Night that you heard as a child, they're real. The White Walker's wake as we speak, gathering and animating the dead North of the Wall. Once you died they broke through, they swarmed the North until we stopped them… I, stopped them… at Winterfell." He pulled out the arm of the Wight that Ned had brought down to King's Landing. "Luckily we are more prepared this time and the Night's Watch will hopefully stand, but all your wishes for revenge pale in comparison to the real issue, Lady Olenna."

Olenna had frozen at the sight of the moving arm. "That's not possible." She whispered.

"The army of the dead is worse, much worse." Torrhen told her. "Swarms of them running at you faster than you can imagine. Entire armies being swallowed and killed in moments before your very eyes. And then there's the Walkers. Unfeeling, unblinking. Cold hearted killers."

Olenna gulped, and Torrhen put away the arm. "So you have a plan, I presume."

Torrhen nodded. "We have almost 8 years before they become powerful enough to break through the Wall. What we need to do is to unite the living under one banner before that happens. If we can do that early, then we'll have more time to prepare for the dead."

"So no War of the 5 idiots or whatever you want to call it." Olenna noted. "Good."

"I'll assume that Renly won't get any grand ideas this time?" Torrhen asked.

Olenna shook her head. "That fool wouldn't have farted without Mace telling him it was alright. We will stand behind Robert Baratheon, although I will never break bread with the Lannister woman again."

Torrhen smirked. "Not to worry, Lady Olenna. We are working on that…"

The tourney had been going on for almost a week and the jousting had come down to the final two. Ser Jaime Lannister had reached the final alongside Ser Barristan Selmy. Robert had offered to dine with Ned alone for that night, given it was the last chance they could talk properly before Ned went back given there was another large feast the next night to close the tourney. They both laughed about their memories of the Vale, with Robert focusing on his elder teenage years.

"Bessie! Gods, what a woman." He reminisced. "Tits bigger than you could carry!"

Ned laughed at the memory. "Jon had to send her away in the end, did you know that?"

Robert wheezed out a laugh. "The worst thing he ever did to me was deny me those tits." Ned shook his head while laughing, having a drink to try and calm himself down. "Well, the second worst thing, he forced this woman on me after we won the war."

Ned's laughter stopped abruptly. "You shouldn't speak of your Queen that way."

"My Queen." Robert rolled his eyes. "Do you know, the last time I remember us doing anything in the bedroom was before Tommen was born."

Ned desperately wanted to say something, but he knew he had to wait for the right moment. Instead he just shook his head. "I'm sure you've been celibate ever since." He joked.

Robert grinned. "It's been torture, Ned." He joked. "Gods, I've missed this. Why don't you come down more often?"

Ned shrugged. "Winterfell needed me. The North needed me."

"Now more than ever, if you tell the truth." Robert grumbled.

"When have I not?" Ned asked. 'Promise me, Ned.' Ringing in his ears.

Robert just nodded. "True. I value your council though, I've half a mind to name you to the Small Council."

"I'd only refuse." Ned admitted. "I'm needed in the North; I've only stayed for this damned tourney."

"True, I suppose. I'll send up two ships with men for the Watch, I swear it." Robert said, before he reached into his clothing and pulled out a raven message. "Though if you leave in the next couple of days I suppose I've got to make use of you while you're here. What do you think of this?"

Ned took it and read. It detailed that the Targaryen siblings had arrived in Pentos and were being protected by one of the magisters. "We can't get to them without causing a full-scale war."

"I could get a blade in though, a sharp one for both of their hearts." Robert said grimly. "I should have had them killed years ago."

"You know my feelings on murdering children, Robert." Ned told him firmly.

"Children grow." Robert almost growled. "That Viserys is old enough to mount an invasion now."

"With what army?" Ned asked. "You have the might of the Seven Kingdom's behind you, he has his sister. While you are King, they will never pose a threat."

Robert wasn't too sure, however. "There are still those in the Seven Kingdom's that call me 'Usurper', give them a chance and they'll stab me in the back."

"Minor houses, minor threats." Ned reassured. "The Targaryen's won't invade, Robert. The male is too mad to gain any allies and the girl won't do anything with him still in the picture. Relax, enjoy tomorrow and we'll deal with them if they ever become enough of a problem to worry about."

The final tilt was won by Ser Jaime in 4 tilts, and Torrhen was reminded by how unlikable the Kingsguard knight was before the War of the 5 Kings. He sat in his seat with his hands balled into fists as the Lannister rode around showing off while Ser Barristan picked himself up out of the dirt.

"He jousted well." Ned admitted.

"He's a fine warrior." Torrhen said. "A pity his ego is larger than Balerion's skull."

Ned snorted in laughter but didn't say anything more as a crown of golden roses was handed to Ser Jaime. There was literally only one person that the Kingsguard knight could have given the crown to, but as that person happened to be the woman that the two elder Stark's in attendance knew was cuckolding the King to sleep with her brother, Ser Jaime naming his twin sister the Queen of Love and Beauty still rankled with them. Ned saw Robert clapping and once again wished that he could tell his friend the truth, but the plans had been set in motion and anything putting those in jeopardy now had the genuine chance of threatening life itself. Instead he settled for strong, unenthusiastic clapping as Cersei Lannister placed the crown on her head, waving to the crowd afterwards.

Torrhen didn't even attend the feast that night, with the pretence of ensuring the Stark Household were ready for their early leaving the next morning. Ned had taken Bran to see the festivities and to spend a final night with his son, but Torrhen just couldn't face it. Once his clothes were all packed he ended up on a balcony staring out at the party down below, and all he could think of was the clashing of swords that was to come.