Chapter 46: Family, Duty, Honour

"OPEN THE GATE!"

The call came from beyond the thick wooden doors that separated the South from Castle Black after a single horn blast. Torrhen waited patiently as the doors creaked open before he rode his garron into the courtyard of Castle Black, and he looked around to gather his bearings. There couldn't have been more than a skeleton crew at the central castle of the Night's Watch, and yet it was still more members of the famous order than Torrhen had ever seen in one place in either of his lives.

They were escorted to a small stables, where Torrhen dismounted and grabbed Winter's Bite from his horse, before he turned around to face with a tall, imposing looking man of the Night's Watch. "Lord Stark." The man said.

"Lord Torrhen, please." Torrhen insisted. "Lord Stark is my Father, I believe you knew him well, Ser Alliser."

He wasn't prepared to cower down before the miserable man, and he met Ser Alliser Thorne's glare with one of his own. "I was surprised to receive a raven from Ser Denys at the Shadow Tower, claiming you had come from North of the Wall."

"Duty called." Torrhen answered shortly. "I only did as I was asked by my Father. As I am doing now by being here, talking to you." He could see that Ser Alliser wanted to make a remark, but thankfully the elder man in black refrained from doing so. "We are here to tell you what is happening. The Wildlings are to be relocated into the Gift, and more preparations for the coming Winter will be made to give us all a better chance of survival."

That didn't go down well, and the few brothers of the Night's Watch within hearing distance were all outraged and made that known. Torrhen ignored them all for a stare off with Ser Alliser, who's glare had almost doubled in intensity. This stare off went on for a few seconds before a small party came down the stairs from the common hall. "What is going on here?" A loud voice exclaimed.

It was Ser Jaime Lannister, surrounded by what looked like a small number of Westerlanders that had been sent to the Wall after the war. Torrhen felt his hand drop to his sword hilt just in case, and he noticed his men grow tense at the appearance of their former enemies. Ser Alliser didn't take his eyes away from Torrhen when he said. "Lord Stark here is explaining to us that our enemies for thousands of years have been invited to live South of us."

Balerion growled and bared his teeth at the elder man, whilst Jaime looked curiously at Torrhen and the rest of the Northerners. "Very well, that was the plan that Lord Commander Mormont agreed to, was it not?"

"Lord Commander Mormont and his host haven't returned in a year." Thorne stated unhappily, eying Balerion cautiously.

"And yet until he is confirmed as missing or deceased, he is still our Lord Commander and his orders hold." Jaime stated bluntly. "As Acting Lord Commander, you should know this, Ser Alliser."

Torrhen saw the biggest of Jaime's group flex his fingers on a huge axe, and obviously Ser Alliser noticed that too, as he snapped his attention to Jaime and scowled furiously, before he turned back to Torrhen. "You have our hospitality for a night." He growled, as he swept his cloak dramatically and stormed off. Others dressed in black followed suit, along with the tall axe wielder and the rest of the Westermen. Jaime however, walked over to Torrhen.

"Stark." He greeted.

"Lannister." Torrhen responded likewise. They clasped forearms in a firm handshake. "Black almost suits you."

Jaime scoffed. "Not as much as gold I find, but it will do. What brings you here?"

"I'm simply explaining what is happening as we speak." Torrhen shrugged. "Better for you to know now and make your peace with it than for Thorne to find out after the fact and do something stupid."

Jaime nodded, looking back at where Thorne disappeared off to. "He is prone to that." He mumbled. "Come, let us go and talk somewhere more private."

As Septa Mordane gushed further over Sansa's stitching of a blood red Direwolf, Arya decided that she hated sewing. She'd come to that conclusion a lot of times before of course, but this time she really meant it, she hated sewing. Her ship looked more like a wagon, and she had no idea how that had happened.

She actually groaned out loud when Mordane came over to see her, and the Septa tutted loudly. "Arya Stark, that's no way for a Lady to react."

Arya scowled. "I'm not a Lady." She muttered.

"You are a girl and your parents are Lord and Lady Stark, therefore you are a Lady, no matter how many times you get away with swinging a sword and acting like a boy." Mordane scolded. "Come, let me see." Arya shoved the stitched towards Mordane. "Oh Arya, when will you learn?"

"Never!" Arya shouted, not being able to control herself. "I won't ever learn! Sewing is stupid, I should be out in the yard preparing!"

Mordane tightened her lips together. "Lord Stark was clear…"

"I know what my Father said." Arya said grumpily, folding her arms.

"And so while you are here, you will try your best." Mordane instructed. "Those were the rules." The Septa handed Arya her stitches back. "Unstitch that and try once more."

Arya almost felt tears in her eyes, but she shook them away and aggressively began to undo her work. Sansa leaned over and whispered. "Do a flower, they are easier."

"She can't be helped, Sansa." Jeyne Poole scoffed. "Not when she's so upset about her lover."

Arya's head rocketed round to stare at Jeyne. "What?" She asked.

Jeyne smirked. "Your lover! We know you're so angry because Cregan Glenmore ran away from you."

"He didn't run away." Arya scowled. "And he's not my lover." She let out a noise of disgust.

Jeyne nodded, looking almost apologetic when she snorted and burst into laughter along with Beth Cassel. That caught Mordane's attention. "Girls!"

"Sorry Septa." Jeyne said politely, before she started snickering behind the old woman's back.

Arya had had enough at that, angrily getting to her feet and throwing her sewing kit at Jeyne, hitting her square on the forehead. "He is not my lover! But if I had one, at least he wouldn't be a traitorous cripple like yours!"

She only saw the briefest hint of Jeyne's shock before she bolted out of the room as fast as she could, not knowing where her feet were taking her until she found herself right in front of the archery range. She angrily stomped over to grab her bow and some training arrows before she began clumsily firing towards the targets, not doing very well. She could hear Torrhen in her mind telling her to lose her emotions and to breathe normally, so after nocking another arrow she tried closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, before opening them again and firing, hitting the centre.

"You've gotten better." Arya heard her sister say. She lowered the bow and turned to face Sansa, anger in her eyes.

"I want to be alone." Arya scowled.

Sansa snorted breath through her nose as her lip curled slightly in a small smirk. "Peace, sister. I told Jeyne to leave shortly after you ran out. She was out of order."

"You did?" Arya asked, surprised at that.

"Of course." Sansa told her. "She started it and she had it coming. You were a bit harsh on Theon it's true, but anybody could see you were at the edge of your tether."

This was a first and Arya didn't know how to react. "Thanks, I guess." She mumbled. "I didn't mean it, about Theon."

Sansa smiled, pulling herself up to sit on the wooden fence. "I know." She smiled brightly. "And in the future you should think these things instead of say them. In our position sometimes we need to be the bigger person."

Arya snorted. "Who made you all wise?"

Sansa grinned in amusement. "I suppose knowing I will soon be the Lady of the Dreadfort means I've had to grow up quicker." She said honestly. "Dom is a few years older than I am too, and our conversations were always very mature. He's taught me a lot."

Arya looked down at her feet. "Are you saying because I won't marry I'm immature?"

Sansa shook her head quickly. "No! Gods no. Peace, Arya. I know we haven't always been friends, but we are sisters. I know we also have Sara but she's basically a babe, we will have a completely different relationship to the one you and I should be sharing."

"I'm sorry." Arya said. "I've just had so many years of being laughed at by you and your friends… It's hard to forget."

Sansa to her credit looked abashed. "I cannot apologise enough for that. I was a foolish girl with silly dreams and thoughts. I should have learnt sooner that if I was nicer to you, my pillows would simply have feathers inside instead of sheep shit."

Arya couldn't contain her laughter. "You used the proper word!" She exclaimed. "You usually say shift."

Sansa smirked. "As I said, I've grown up." She then looked down at Arya sympathetically. "Why did the mention of Cregan get you so angry?"

Arya shrugged. "He's a friend, that's all. I like his lessons more than everyone else's."

Sansa smiled knowingly but didn't say anything else about it. She pushed herself off the fence and landed gracefully, straightening her skirts. "Come on." She said brightly.

"Where are we going?" Arya asked.

"To apologise to Jeyne for throwing your stitching at her, as well as to Theon for your words." Sansa explained. Arya was about to protest when Sansa held up a finger to her lips to stop her. "No questions or complaints. She will apologise to you and you will do the same back, or I will forget to remind Septa Mordane to keep your little outburst quiet from Mother."

Arya gulped at the thought of Mother knowing all about it. She huffed and stomped her foot quickly before she turned to put her bow away. "Fine." She grumbled. "But I'm apologising second!"

Jaime led Torrhen to the cage that rose up the face of the Wall towards the top, and they stopped on a platform that just sat over the edge but gave a magnificent view. Torrhen stared in awe at the vastness of the Haunted Forest laid out beneath him, and he could see as far as the Frostfangs to the west.

"It's impressive." Jaime commented. "Even I was in awe a little when I got to come up here."

"You seem to have settled in well." Torrhen noted.

Jaime smirked. "Ser Alliser knew that with the sheer number of prisoners from the West they needed someone in command to keep them in line. That role clearly fell to me."

Torrhen nodded. "Good, you may disagree, but command suits you."

"It's been strange." Jaime admitted. "From coming here miserable after losing the war and my family, to facing off against Thorne, who hates me for killing the Mad King, the Maester who also hates me for killing the Mad King, and even Victarion Greyjoy, who tried to kill me one night."

Torrhen grimaced. "Is he still here?"

Jaime snorted. "He's the only one that actually scares Thorne, we came to an accord and he's been loyal since. His time in the ice cells gave him perspective it seems."

"I'm glad, he's not an enemy my family wish to face again." Torrhen said, remembering Robb's account of his fight with the large Greyjoy.

"I'd take a thousand Victarion Greyjoy's over what you believe to be coming." Jaime admitted. "Thorne wasn't wrong, I've never seen the Lord Commander or even a single man that travelled with him since I've been here. The men are getting restless."

"They need to hold on." Torrhen said, racking his brains to remember anything that his past life's Jon had told him about his time before becoming Lord Commander. "Rash decisions here could harm everybody in the South."

"Rash decisions anywhere could harm everybody in the South." Jaime rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I know the importance of the Wall staying strong, and thankfully enough people still respect me enough for my words to mean something."

"Long may that be the case." Torrhen noted with a smirk, before that fell. "I don't trust Thorne."

"Neither do I." Jaime said calmly. "But he does have seniority."

Torrhen sighed. "We'll be using the Eastwatch tunnel for the mammoths and giants, but thankfully everyone else will be on the boats. Just ensure that they can get through safely, and we can settle them peacefully."

Jaime looked at Torrhen as if he were mad. "Giants?"

"And mammoths." Torrhen nodded. "They're real."

Jaime shook his head with a smirk. "All of Tyrion's stories are coming true. Next you'll be saying the dragons are back."

Torrhen could only grin.

The last few days had honestly been the first instance in the time since Bran Stark had left Winterfell that he truly missed it. The situation in King's Landing scared him. He wasn't allowed to leave Maegor's Holdfast at all now due to the ongoing plague spreading through Fleabottom, and he had taken to spending his free time sat on the balcony of one of the upper corridors so that he could watch the city below. It was peaceful, and Bran could usually almost pretend that everything was fine.

That blissful ignorance was impossible to come by today, however. Grand Maester Gormon had been forced into isolation earlier that day after he had contracted a sudden fever, along with buboes on his neck. The fact that the castle's most senior medic could contract it terrified the young Stark, and he hugged Summer closer to him as he stared out over the city.

"Lord Stannis was wondering after you, Brandon." An elderly voice came from down the corridor. Bran turned to see the shining golden armour of Ser Barristan Selmy walking towards him.

Bran sighed. "I'm sorry." He said downheartedly.

"I know you must be scared." Ser Barristan said kindly.

Bran nodded, noticing that his hand had started to shake. "I don't want to die." He told the elderly knight.

"We are in the safest part of the city, Brandon." Ser Barristan tried to reassure Bran, although it didn't work very well.

"The Grand Maester caught it." Bran said pointedly.

That didn't deter the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, however. "And he has been moved to the farthest point of the castle for all of our own safety." He smiled down at Bran. "Come, let us see what Lord Stannis wants together, and then how about we find some place that I can spar with you?"

Bran grinned, momentarily forgetting the city's predicament. "Yes please!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet and causing Summer to wag his tail in excitement. Barristan chuckled as he led the youngster back towards the staircase.

While her two daughters were speaking over by the archery range, Cat had been left with her youngest daughter and her two grandsons whilst their mothers performed other duties elsewhere. She didn't mind looking after the babes of course, but in the back of her mind she was worried. Ned, Robb, Torrhen and Bran all being away from Winterfell at once had put her in yet another state of unease.

She shook that aside as she watched from her chair as Sara curled up against her Direwolf, Red. She was drawing something using some form of charcoal that Luwin had given the toddler, while Beron and Asher were copying their aunt, fairly unsuccessfully. Cat continued with her sewing, a new shirt for Beron made out of some of Rickon's old things. She sighed looking at the future Lord of Winterfell. The 18-month-old's hair was straight, unlike his father's, and had already grown to almost his shoulders. She personally would have cut it long ago, but Wylla liked it long and so Cat stayed out of it.

Asher meanwhile had barely turned one. He was slower than Beron was by not walking or saying much at all just yet, but he was extremely affectionate, always enjoying being close to somebody. Cat looked up at the youngest of her grandsons and smiled as he crawled over towards Sara and the large red Direwolf, snuggling in beside his aunt.

"Lady Catelyn." An elderly voice said quietly from the doorway. Cat turned to see the Maester.

"Luwin, come in." She said quietly.

"A rider from Riverrun, My Lady. For you." Luwin explained, handing her the parchment. Cat took it and began to open the seal when her daughter spotted Luwin.

"Luwin!" Sara exclaimed, clumsily getting to her feet. Asher began giggling and crawling after her as Sara ran over towards them. "Look at my drawing!"

Luwin knelt down and looked. Catelyn saw a scribbled black wolf that had legs strewn all over the place. Grinning, Cat unfolded the letter, and her joy immediately turned to despair.

"Lady Stark?" Luwin said quietly, noticing her change in emotion.

Cat blinked back tears. "My Father has passed." She croaked out quietly, so the children didn't hear her. "Edmure says it was peaceful."

Luwin looked saddened too. "I'm truly sorry My Lady."

Cat appreciated that. She stared down at the words one more time. "I said I would visit him a while back, but I never got the opportunity. Now I never will." She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes, standing up. "Luwin, could you…" She looked at the children, all blissfully unaware of the emotional turmoil Cat was beginning to succumb too. She saw Sara having a childish conversation with Beron and a sad smile struck her lips before she fled the room, trying her hardest not to break down into tears until she was safely locked away in her chambers.