Chapter 37: The King's Council

Life in Winterfell soon settled down to normal once again. Torrhen and Mira were staying in Winterfell, with the official reasoning being that Torrhen was there to advise Ned. With Halys Hornwood dying in the south, it meant that a new castellan had to be chosen for Moat Cailin, and Torrhen had settled for Cley Cerwyn for the time being. Robb had also departed with a strong enough host, ready to take the fight to Pyke.

Torrhen had taken up a bit of a training routine for early mornings, getting in his physical work before midday with archery before breakfast and swordplay afterwards, after which he would spend the rest of the day in meetings with his Father and spending valuable time with his son. Arya had also taken up the early morning training, and the two siblings were in the training yard with wooden swords, swatting at each other.

She had gotten better he noted as she smacked him with the blade on the side. "Good." Torrhen told her. "Do it again." She tried, but Torrhen managed to parry it and knock her backwards with the butt of his own sword. "Don't do what I tell you." He reminded her. "You'll die easily if you do what your opponent expects." Arya grumbled, but she said nothing and swung the sword again, cutting back quickly when Torrhen parried once more. She didn't land any more blows on him, although Torrhen was impressed at her endurance. He kept her at it for another ten minutes or so until she was red in the face and panting. "Good, you've improved a lot." He noted, taking her wooden sword.

"Robb helped me too." Arya said breathlessly as she gulped down water. "He said that if I can beat him when he gets back he'll get Mikken to make me a sword!"

Torrhen grinned. "You'll get there with practice."

They both sat down against the kennel fences, catching their breaths and watching the castle inhabitants go about their business. Torrhen was enjoying the silence, but Arya broke it when she asked. "What's it like? War?"

Torrhen bristled. "For the most part, boring." He told her honestly. "You're constantly marching and there's not a lot to do. The battles though, they are nothing like the songs say. It's a bloody business, you see your friends die in front of you, you become something else…"

"The butcher." Arya said, not unkindly. "That's what some men call you."

Torrhen nodded. "In Casterly Rock… I lost control of myself after killing Joffrey. I don't know what happened really, but I survived." He sighed. "That's the trick to war, and why your lessons here are so important. Just survive, and what comes next will be alright."

Arya nodded too, taking in the words. "I heard a rumour." She began. "That you could have stayed in King's Landing."

Torrhen groaned. The day they parted from the King's own forces Robert Baratheon had invited him and Ned into his tent and asked him to come to the Red Keep and act as his Master of Whisperers due to his visions. Thankfully Torrhen had managed to explain that he couldn't see anything without a Weirwood tree, but the reality was sinking in that his lies about his past were giving him too big of a reputation than he could handle. "I was never going to do that." Torrhen told Arya. "I belong here, in the North. My place is at Father's side, and Robb's after him. Offering my advice and guarding the southern borders for Winterfell. Stark men don't do well in the South, not for long anyway."

"But you could have been on the King's Council." Arya said, a bit awed.

Torrhen shook his head. "A cursed chalice." He said. "You remember Father's saying? About the lone wolf."

"It dies, but the pack survives." Arya quoted.

"Aye, and it's true." Torrhen told her. "I'd have been alone down there with people I cannot trust."

Arya's face fell to the floor in a moment of sorrow. "Jon's on his own."

Torrhen put his arm around her and ruffled her hair slightly. "Jon has Ghost and Jory, he will be fine."

"I worry about him." Arya admitted softly.

Torrhen smiled. "I know, I do to. But Jon's a grown man, he can take care of himself." He stood up. "Come on, you have lessons with Maester Luwin to get to." Arya groaned, but accepted Torrhen's arm as he hoisted her up, pushing her towards the main keep to get washed and changed for the rest of the day.

As it happened, Torrhen didn't need to worry about his secret cousin. As he was sat with Mira, Asher, Wylla and Beron as the small group had their dinner later that evening they were interrupted when Ned came through the doors, a letter in his hands.

"Father." Torrhen greeted. "Come to join us?"

Ned shook his head. "Not today, I came to share this with you." He placed the letter in Torrhen's hands. "I will be busy for the night, I must have a conversation with Theon, it's been enough time."

Torrhen nodded and watched his Father walk out of the Great Hall. Wylla excused herself with Beron, leaving just Torrhen's immediate new family alone in the spacious room. He unravelled the letter and read, a grin forming on his face. "What is it?" Mira asked, placing Asher down on a blanket that she had laid out on the table.

"It's Jon." He told her. "He's written to us from deep in the Dothraki sea." He read the note again. "Khal Drogo is dead, as is Daenerys Targaryen's son, but she's birthed the dragons." He grinned widely. "I knew it! I knew that's what the comet meant!"

Mira rolled her eyes at the outburst. "So what now? What is she doing?"

Torrhen read further. "He says that they're heading southwards to find a port to buy a ship."

Mira stopped in her tracks. "Are they coming to Westeros?" She asked him.

Torrhen wasn't sure. "I hope not." He said honestly. "King Robert will do all he can to see her dead."

Torrhen saw Mira look sadly into his eyes, knowingly. "You still care for her, don't you?"

Torrhen shrugged. "Not romantically." He told her.

Mira just laughed. "I know that." She rolled her eyes. "But I saw your life before I was brought back, remember. I saw your relationship in Meereen, I know you both shared something important."

"We were there for each other at dark times." Torrhen said. He was thankful that Mira knew him so well that this sort of conversation didn't bother her. "That's all. I was her tether when she had to lock away the dragons, and she was mine after I lost you…"

Mira smiled at him sadly, placing her hand delicately on his cheek. "We were robbed before." She whispered to him. "Our lives cut short when they should have been long and bound together. That's why I thank the gods every day for this chance we have now."

Torrhen nodded, placing his hand over hers in a sign of intimacy. "And I swear to you I will make that count." He leant in and kissed his wife gently. "But I do worry that she'll come for the Seven Kingdoms too soon. I don't want her to drag us into a civil war, one where Father will back the King."

Mira shook her head. "From your words on her she seems smarter than that."

Torrhen nodded. "But the Dany I knew outlived me, Mira." He told her, showing her the letter. "And if Jon is right here, if she does remember our old time… I don't know who she is now. I don't know anything about the aftermath of the Long Night. What if they lost at King's Landing? What if they won? How would ruling the South have affected her?" He sighed. "There's still so much I don't know."

Mira gripped his hand tightly and stared at him with her beautiful blue eyes. "We will learn together. We will deal with it together, you and I."

"As it always should have been." Torrhen grinned, kissing her again. He stood up, giving Asher a tickle under the chin. "I shall be in the Godswood."

"Don't get lost in your thoughts, Tor." Mira said kindly. Torrhen nodded and placed a hand gently on his wife's shoulder in parting before he walked away, desperate to try and find some answers on what the Dragon Queen remembering would bring.

As Torrhen and Mira were having their discussion on Daenerys Targaryen, Ned was entering the corridor that housed Theon Greyjoy. A guard had been posted on his door, and the man dutifully bowed and opened it. Ned walked in and was surprised to see Theon being helped with his soup by Jeyne Poole, Sansa's friend. They both saw him, and Jeyne immediately got to her feet, placing the bowl on the bedside table before she curtseyed. "Lord Stark."

Theon was slower, but he as well went to get up. "Stay down, Theon." Ned said gently. "Maester Luwin told you to rest, don't get up on my account."

Theon placed himself down in the bed gently, as Jeyne went to wipe his forehead with a cold cloth. "I'll be back tomorrow." She told him, before she curtseyed towards Ned once more. "Lord Stark." And she left the room.

Ned watched her go with a raised eyebrow, and he turned to face Theon with a smirk on his lips. "That seemed… intimate."

Theon was quick to disagree. "No! No Lord Stark, nothing like that. She's just… helping me. I think it's a request from Sansa."

"If there is one thing I know about Jeyne Poole, it's that she wouldn't be here if she didn't want to be." Ned told him. "Just be careful, Theon."

"I wouldn't…" Theon mumbled, and Ned nodded, sitting down.

"Then we can draw a line under this discussion and talk about the reason I came to see you." Ned told him, sitting down on the bed. "Robb has arrived on the Stony Shore. They are due to set sail within the next few days."

Theon's head dropped, but Ned saw his eyes grew narrowed. "Good." Theon said, darkly.

"Good?" Ned was surprised.

"They knew I was here under threat of execution, but they invaded anyway." Theon told him. "They are no family of mine."

"You are aware of what you are saying, yes?" Ned had to be sure. "You are disowning your entire family."

Theon looked up at Ned. "Forgive me for my forwardness My Lord, but you are my family." He said. "Robb, Torrhen, Sansa, all of you. You took me as a hostage and could have treated me like one, but you didn't." He took a deep breath. "I told Robb that I choose the North and I stick by that. Family is who you choose, not just who you are born too."

Ned was pleased. "Then we must discuss what happens going forwards. The Hand of the King is going to put down the rebellion and at the end of that House Greyjoy will likely just be yourself."

"Can I ask… if she surrenders, spare Yara." Theon said quickly.

Ned grimaced. "I'll see if I can get a raven towards Robb in time." He said for the Greyjoy's benefit. "I also need your own writing to send to the King, denouncing your family and renouncing all claims to the Iron Islands."

Theon nodded. "I'll try tomorrow." He said, looking at his missing arm. "I haven't tried writing anything yet."

Ned understood. "Take your time." He insisted. "Do you know what you want to do yet? I understand you told Robb that you wouldn't even consider the Wall."

"No." Theon said quickly. "I know why it is the easiest option, but I don't know how good I'll be at anything yet, let alone with a sword or a spear."

"Then we will find you something in Winterfell when you are up and about." Ned promised. "Perhaps even a wife."

Theon went red. "If My Lord wills that." He mumbled.

Ned chuckled, standing up. "That's all for the future. You get your rest Theon." He patted the bed softly before he turned back towards the door, exiting the small room and noticing Jeyne Poole still standing awkwardly there. "You're still here?" He asked her.

"Sorry, My Lord… he just… he hadn't finished his soup." Jeyne rambled.

Ned chuckled in amusement. "Very well. And help him write his letter, he will explain it I'm sure." Ned instructed the girl. "Though it must be his writing."

"Yes My Lord." Jeyne curtseyed again. Ned smiled knowingly at her as he walked away, wondering how long it would be before he was arranging a wedding ceremony.

The Stony Shore had long been a desolate and sparsely populated place, even by the standards of the North. The new, drawn up borders of the lands that Robett Glover had been given were mixed, there was a large area of fishing villages in the southern regions, mainly located around the river that fed the Twin Lakes, and to the north of the land was a region of hills and bogs. All of it had for the most part been long been abandoned since House Fisher of the Stony Shore died out hundreds of years before.

Now though, it was starting to improve. Together with House Glover, House Stark had initiated the beginnings of a town located in the crevice most prominent cove of the Stony Shore, tentatively named Fishertown. Robb snorted, the North were clearly not the most imaginative with names, but it served its purpose. Fishing was currently the main industry, although a blacksmiths and some farms had been set up with coin from Winterfell. It was still early days though.

Slightly away from the town towards the North was the castle. Currently a simple wooden build, but as industry improved the wooden building would give way to stone, a simple stone drum castle ready to defend the West Coast.

One of the first things to be completed at both the sites were the docks. Far out to sea were a large host of both Ironborn ships that the North had reoutfitted in their own colours, and some Mallister ships from Seagard that had been generously offered. The main host were in the town boarding their boats, but the Lords and nobility had been invited into the castle and were due to dock their own ships from there.

Robb had taken the Iron Victory for his own, and much preferred it without the black and gold Greyjoy sails. He stood on a cliffside outside of the castle walls, Grey Wind at his side, and he admired the first hint of naval power the North had had since King Brandon the Burner had been so enraged at his Father's disappearance he had the entire North's navy set aflame.

"It's a sight to behold for sure." A gruff voice was behind him. Robb turned and saw the newly raised Lord Glover walking up to him with Roose Bolton. The Lord of the Dreadfort still gave Robb the creeps, but he couldn't fault the man's effectiveness in driving out the Ironborn from the North. "Hard to believe it'll be me building more."

Robb nodded. "You've got plenty of materials in your lands now, and we will aid you with hiring ship builders."

Robett grinned. "So long as it's not taken out of the dowry."

Robb chuckled, remembering that one of his youngest sisters would be coming here to wed Robett's son, Gawen. "You'll have to speak with my Father about that."

"Aye, I'm sure I will." Robett nodded. He stared back out to sea. "You make those fuckers pay for what they did." He growled.

Roose Bolton nodded. "Lord Stannis will not be as generous as the King was a decade ago. I'm sure by the end of this the Ironborn will stay on their rocks for a generation."

"Aye." Robb nodded. "Balon Greyjoy is a dead man for sure, it's up to the rest to see reason sooner rather than later."

"I fought in the last war against them." Robett snorted in amusement. "Those dull fucks have no reason."

Robb grinned. "Then they'll die stupid."

Roose looked at Robb with an odd expression. "What of the Greyjoy ward? Is he going to be used as a message?"

Robb shook his head. "Theon has denounced the Ironborn as a people. Balon's invasion despite him being captured shows how little the man cares for his last son, no amount of threats will help."

"A pity." Roose commented. "5 minutes with me and I could have sent something to terrify Balon Greyjoy into submitting."

The image of his own body hanging atop the Twins, his skin peeled off, made Robb shudder. "Flaying is outlawed, Lord Bolton. As is unnecessary torture."

Roose just bowed his head. "As you say."

"I'm surprised your boy isn't here." Robett Glover noted, quickly changing the subject. "He did well in King's Landing I'm told."

Roose nodded. "Domeric is newlywed, and him being my only heir I encouraged him to stay in Winterfell with his new bride. Hopefully by the time we are finished in the Iron Islands Sansa has bled and Domeric will have an heir on the way."

Robb felt uncomfortable at how the man was viewing his sister but kept quiet at that. Robett nodded knowingly. "Aye, a lack of an heir is a worrying thing. My own brother, Galbart, needs to wed and quickly or Deepwood Motte passes to me, and oddly enough I don't want it."

Robb thought for a moment. "There are a few unwed maids in the North. Perhaps Jonelle Cerwyn."

Robett grinned. "You could name every woman from here to Dorne between the ages of 6 and 60 and he likely wouldn't pick one." Sighing, he said. "I'll have a word. He's staying in the North and we've time before he will be called to fight again. A good chance to settle down and sprout some young'uns."

Robb smirked, and he saw a man in Stark armour approaching them from towards the castle. "Lord Glover, Lord Bolton." He bowed his head. "Lord Robb, the boats are waiting for you."

"Very well Harwin, thank you." Robb said kindly. He turned to Lord Glover. "Don't be hesitant to ask Winterfell for anything you need. This area is to benefit the both of us after all."

Robett nodded. "Aye. Give those Ironborn cunts a kick from me, eh?"

Robb grinned. "We shall." He waited for Roose to say his farewells and the pair walked down towards the castle docks, with Robb being careful to put Grey Wind in the middle of them. He sat down in the rowboat that was to take them to the Iron Victory and took a long look at the coastline of the North, already eager to step foot on it once more.

Robert Baratheon's vow to try to be a better King and husband was already off to a good start, the man himself thought. Whenever the whore had been in labour he had immediately organised a hunt, whereas this time, as Queen Walda Frey was in Maegor's Holdfast screaming, he was distracting himself in the Small Council.

It wasn't full. His hand of the King Stannis and new Master of Ships, Ser Davos Seaworth, were of course halfway around the Arm of Dorne by now on his way to fuck the Ironborn well and truly, while the new Grand Maester, a Tyrell great uncle of Lord Loras, was in the birthing chamber aiding his new wife. There were some new faces sat around the table, however. Lord Wyman Manderly had agreed to be the new Master of Coin and was forcing his way through Littlefinger's web of treason. Robert smirked at the memory of the man's rotting head on Traitor's Walk, knowing for sure he wouldn't miss the man. Varys' disappearance also meant that he had gone to Lady Olenna to be the new Mistress of Whispers. Renly was here, grinning as always in his role as Master of Laws, while his service in the war against the Lannisters meant Robert had finally given Ser Barristan his rightful role on the council as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"The Iron Bank have received the first payment." The fat Northerner stated. "And they have agreed that our next payment shall be in three moons time."

"Put it to one side." Robert said. He was so bored, but the realm had suffered while he was leaving the governance to Jon Arryn, and he didn't want to be remembered as badly as the madman he overthrew. "I don't want any delays with the Iron Bank, or they'll likely fund the Targaryen whore." He growled, some grievances wouldn't go away quickly. "What have we heard on her?"

Olenna shrugged. "Nothing. Since her savage husband's death we've heard absolutely nothing."

The problem of not having Varys' network, Robert grimaced. Olenna was capable, but for domestic issues mainly. "She would be mad to try and invade." Renly told Robert. "A girl half the world away is no threat."

"She's a Targaryen." Robert said plainly. "She'll always be a threat."

Renly shrugged disbelievingly. "What matters more for the time being though, is the training of new, loyal Gold Cloaks. With your agreement I'd have Ser Guyard Morrigen as the commander."

Robert new Ser Guyard, he was loyal for sure. "Arrange it." He nodded, turning to Ser Barristan. "How are the new knights settling in?"

The elder man bowed his head. "Well enough, Your Grace." The final three positions of the Kingsguard had been filled. Ser Barristan of course was still Lord Commander, and Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Mandon Moore were the only remaining men from before Jon had been murdered. Ser Perwyn Frey had been inducted on campaign and was currently tasked as his half-sister's protector, while the final spots had been filled by Ser Robar Royce, Ser Rolland Storm and Ser Hugh of the Vale. One from a noble family that Robert knew well from his childhood, and the other two had been instrumental in retaking and holding King's Landing. "Ser Hugh still seems to be a bit… distracted, at his new cloak, but that happened to us all. We will instil discipline in time."

"Good." Robert smiled. "This is a new era for us all. No longer will people like Cersei Lannister, Varys or Littlefinger sneak and plot under our noses. We are the governance of the Seven Kingdoms, and we will prove capable."

The doors opened, and Robert glared at the intruder until he realised it was Ser Perwyn, a tired smile on his face. "Your Grace, My Lords, My Lady. I apologise for the intrusion, but the Queen has given birth. A healthy baby girl."

Robert noticed a couple of people look uncomfortably at one another as they heard the gender of the baby, but he was beaming. "A girl?" He stood up. "This meeting was basically over anyway. You're all dismissed. Barristan!" He barked, before he walked out and followed Perwyn to his wife's chambers.

Moments later and he was inside. The shutters had been closed and Fair Walda was lying weakly on the bed, sweat on her forehead and her hair was a mess. In her arms however, she held a bundle. "Your Grace." Grand Maester Gormon bowed. "A healthy girl."

"I'm sorry it's not a son." Walda said quietly.

Robert shook his head, sitting on the bed. "Nonsense." He said gently. She shifted so that Robert could grab his new child, and he held his breath as he went to look at her.

He needn't have worried. On her head was a thick tuft of jet-black hair, and her eyes were open and a dazzling royal blue. He grinned, offering the babe his little finger and she gripped it firmly. "I thought to name her Ellyn, a play on the name of the goddess in your family's history." Walda told him.

Robert nodded. "Ellyn, of the House Baratheon." He whispered. "Welcome to the world, Princess."

The heat was too much for Bran, so much so that as he and Stannis' other squire, Matthos Seaworth, were sparring all he wore on his chest was a loose-fitting white bed shirt. They were practicing with tourney blades, which Bran was excited about.

"Keep your shield up." Matthos explained, as he tapped his own blade on the shield for effect. "It is the difference between death and survival."

"Sorry." Bran muttered, getting back into his stance. They were aboard the Fury, Stannis' flagship, as they sailed past the Elbow, the southwestern point of Dorne. Soon they would dock in Oldtown to resupply and add the strength of the Arbor to their numbers, and Bran couldn't wait to see the famous city.

"Right, that will do for this morning." Matthos said. "You're getting better, just keep that left arm up at all times. We won't be deep in the battle, but we still might be targeted Brandon, the Ironborn don't like the Fury."

Bran had heard all about the First Greyjoy Rebellion, and how Stannis had smashed the Iron Fleet in the Battle of Fair Isle, a victory that had allowed the royal forces to win the war. He wasn't sure on what the plan this time was, but he knew that Stannis had to come up with something different. Bran handed Matthos the training blade and went to the barrel that was filled with drinking water, washing his face in it before he went to the side of the ship and leant on the handrail. He looked out and saw the coastline of Dorne fade away as they passed the Elbow, and though Bran couldn't see it he knew that they were sailing past the bay that led towards Starfall and the Torrentine river. The young Stark stared in awe, even though he couldn't see the famed castle of House Dayne, knowing that none of his siblings were likely to ever get this close.

"Your Father went there once." He heard Stannis' voice next to him. Bran immediately stood up straight and looked at the Baratheon Lord. "No need for that." Stannis instructed, staring out at Starfall too. "Even as a very young boy I longed of being a Dayne of Starfall, to wield Dawn and be the Sword of the Morning. I didn't want to be His Grace's younger brother, he did everything better than I did."

"I feel like that about Robb and Torrhen sometimes." Bran admitted. "Even Jon. All of them are better at something than I am."

Stannis looked at Bran, almost fondly. "And yet here you are, experiencing things that they will never experience."

"Robb is meeting us, isn't he?" Bran asked.

"I don't mean war with the Ironborn." Stannis said firmly. "Look around you. You're a Northman, yet how many Northmen come this far south? How many experience the heat of Dorne, the storms of Storm's End, court life in King's Landing? Even the dark halls of Dragonstone." Stannis placed a hand on Bran's shoulder. "Learn the lesson quicker than I did, Brandon Stark. You have been dealt a different hand than your brothers it's true, but it is by no means a lesser hand."

Bran nodded, realising that Stannis was projecting his own feelings onto the Stark. "I will, Lord Stannis." He said proudly. Stannis nodded once before he went off to speak with the helmsman. Bran looked back out at the horizon and smiled, imagining himself wearing the purple of House Dayne, the famous sword on his back.