Chapter 47: Lord Dustin

The Shivering Sea by Hardhome was now filled with dozens upon dozens of Northern ships all bearing the Direwolf sail of House Stark. The Manderly's had been busy and had hired Braavosi designers when first tasked with building the fleet, and so in the years between the first gathering of the Northern Lords and this moment, almost 150 ships of all sizes had been built and were seaworthy. Ned was in the first longboat sailing away from Frostfang towards the Wildling fishing town and the Lord of Winterfell was just staring in awe at the amount of people on the coastline. Beside him, Stark guard Hallis Mollen gulped.

"That's a lot of people we are taking beyond the Wall." Hallis said cautiously.

Ned agreed. "Think of the alternative though, all of these people rushing at you with bright blue eyes, not tiring and trying to kill you." He had seen enough of Torrhen's one battle with the wights to be afraid of the prospect. "These people will likely try and be aggressive verbally, don't react. Let me do the talking.

"Aye, My Lord." The three other men on the boat said, and Ned set his jaw as the boat neared the muddy shore.

Ned was the first one off the boat and he stood tall, not letting the suspicious looks of thousands of men and women nerve him at all. He waited for his other men to get off the boat, with Hallis Mollen carrying the Stark banner, before he took a few steps forwards when he noticed that the Wildlings had started to part, creating a pathway up towards the largest hut in the town. The walk felt longer than it was due to the sheer number of people crowded into Hardhome, and that was made longer with the looks of revulsion and disgust on the Wildlings faces. Ned even noticed one woman barge her way to the front and spit towards him, but he held his hand out to stop his men from retaliating. "These are our allies now." He said calmly. "Let us continue on to see their King."

Ned walked briskly towards the hut that they were being shepherded to, entering the door to see a group sat around eating at the fire. It was an open room, and even the fire in the centre couldn't quite keep out the chill. Around the circular brazier stood a number of the Wildling chiefs and chieftesses, all of them staring at Ned equally as suspiciously as the men and women outside. Opposite the Lord of Winterfell on the other side of the brazier stood a man in darkness, who began to step forwards, illuminating himself in the light.

"Lord Stark. It is an honour to meet you again." Mance Rayder said calmly, though his voice was cold.

Ned was confused at the again remark for a moment until Mance's full face came into view. "You were in Winterfell almost 20 years ago." Ned commented. "You came with Lord Commander Qorgyle and spoke with my sons."

"Just the elder two." Mance nodded. "I believe they were plotting a prank, all I did was not tell on them."

"A different time." Ned remarked. "Now Robb has led men into battles, Jon is travelling Essos, and you are the King-Beyond-the-Wall, with the loyalty of over a hundred thousand."

Mance smirked. "Until they decide I'm not fit to rule."

A woman scoffed. "Don't fuck with your words, Mance. You know we here at Hardhome believe in your plan." Ned turned to her voice, and the woman stared down Ned. "Karsi." She greeted.

"I wish we had met in different circumstances." Ned admitted. "But the reality is, we have been brought up not liking one another. My ancestors have put down countless invasions of your people, and your people have killed my ancestors. We are here, today, to prove to you that those days are over."

Mance nodded. "A month ago we may have stubbornly argued over this, but not now." He looked around. "We are all in agreement that this is the right move, to both survive and to win." The agreeing murmurs bolstered Ned's resolve. "You have heard of the Fist, have you not?"

Ned had. "The Fist of the First Men. A sacred site."

"A site of a massacre." A big ginger bearded Wildling growled. Ned recognised him from the visions that Torrhen had shown him a few years earlier, but he didn't need to remember the name as Mance turned to face the man.

"Tormund." The King-Beyond-the-Wall said, holding his hand out calmly before returning his gaze to Ned. "We came across hundreds of dead horse parts, gallons of blood stained the snow, but no human bodies."

Ned grimaced. "You think the Night King got to them?"

"Well it wasn't us." Karsi smirked. The laughs around the room were half hearted, but Ned could gather just how much hatred there was between these people and the Night's Watch from that simple comment.

"We know who it was." Mance said without the amusement of the others. "And that is the point."

Ned nodded. "We have our entire fleet ready and able to start shipping you to the Gift where plots of land have been set aside for each tribe as you discussed with my son, Torrhen."

The chiefs murmured between themselves for a moment. "He was very young to be sent this far North." Karsi admitted.

"He's old for his age." Mance said before Ned could interject with anything. "And smart, he knew what he was doing."

Ned appreciated the praise there. "He's a good lad for sure, and he was adamant about this plan becoming a reality." He looked around the room. "I swear to you all by the Old Gods, this will be a brand-new world for both the North, and the Free Folk." He made sure to get the right name of their people. "The longboats should be ready to begin taking the first wave of your people to the ships."

Barrow Hall was a large wooden keep that offered a fantastic view over the Barrowlands to the North. Robb was stood in the Maester's tower staring out at the hilly horizon going over his last day in his mind. His own force of 500 men had met with the Ryswell host of 250 as the latter had been forced to camp outside of Barrowton. Thankfully Robb's presence had been key in disbanding the Ryswell host and encouraging Lord Harwood Stout to open the gates of Barrowton and allowed Robb, his men, and a small party that followed Lord Rodrik Ryswell, including Roose Ryswell, the 12-year-old thirdborn son of Lord Ryswell who was being touted as the Lord of the Rills' chosen heir to Barrowton.

Pretty much as soon as Robb had entered the castle he had been bombarded with claimants and hearsay, and Robb had immediately shut them all down. Lord Stout had directed Robb to the Maester's chambers to await Howland Reed who had arrived less than an hour after Robb had, and Robb had immediately tasked the Crannogman with discovering what had happened with Lady Dustin.

Steeling himself, Robb took a copy of the Dustin family tree and made his way down to the main hall. He sat himself down in the Lord's chair and began tracing the history back to work out who initially had the right. Willam Dustin had been an only son whilst his sister had married into House Flint of Flint's Finger, and so Robb had to go back another generation and work down that line to find the eldest living Dustin. It seemed that the next eldest brother of Old Lord Denys Dustin had had three children, two sons and a daughter. Roderick Dustin was the elder son and was still alive, while the younger son had died at Pyke in the first Greyjoy Rebellion leaving behind a newborn boy, Edrick, who was now 12.

Roderick Dustin, Edrick Dustin, Denys Flint, Roose Ryswell. Those were the four names that arguably had the best claim to Barrow Hall. Robb shut the book and steeled himself for the coming talks. "Let the claimants enter." He told the steward Callor on the door and stood up to welcome the men entering the room.

Lord Ryswell looked the sternest, holding his son's shoulders tightly as he stared up at Robb intently. Lord Robin Flint had also travelled with his second son, a man of Robb's own age, Denys. Finally there was Roderick Dustin, a grim looking, fiercely bearded man with hints of grey in his hair. He wore a yellow surcoat with his House sigil over his armour, probably to show that he clearly felt like he should be the next Lord, Robb thought.

"Welcome, My Lords." Robb greeted warmly. "Thank you all for being so patient whilst we came to a conclusion over this matter."

"There was no need to drag this out." Rodrik Ryswell scoffed. "Barbrey was a Ryswell, and without an heir of her own the next Lord is clearly her younger brother."

"Oh do fuck off." Roderick Dustin groaned. "We don't want another Ryswell in Barrowton, not whilst Dustin's live."

Rodrik Ryswell's nostrils flared as he turned to face the Dustin, and Robb knew he needed to intervene. "Enough!" Robb raised his voice to catch their attention. "This will not turn into a petty argument. Lord Rodrik." He turned to face the Ryswell lord. "The rules of succession are clear. Lady Barbrey gained the castle as she was Lord Willam's widow, after that the castle should revert back to the heir of its last Lord." He could sense that Rodrik was about to explode in an angry tirade. "But I appreciate your claim, and I will see to it that we can all leave happy." He turned to the other two. "Denys Flint is Lord Willam's nephew by his sister, but again, Barrowton needs a Dustin in command whilst the family still lives, and the people living here agree. Lord Roderick, I would name you the Lord of Barrow Hall. You have the best claim along with the name."

"A wise decision, My Lord." Roderick bowed his head.

"Wise?" Robin Flint laughed. "I would disagree."

Rodrik Ryswell nodded as he looked accusingly at Robb. "Your Father would…"

"My Father." Robb interrupted. "Taught me everything I know. If you wish to argue against my decision, Lord Ryswell, then you are also arguing against him, your liege lord." The Stark guards in the room all tensed up at that, and Rodrik looked around knowing that he was beaten.

Robin Flint went to say something more, but his son stopped him. "Father, Lord Robb is right. I do not know these lands, all I know is Flint's Finger." He turned to Roderick. "My Mother would have been grateful that the Barrowlands flew the long axes once more."

Roderick bowed his head again. "She was a fine woman."

"I would go further to tie us all together." Robb stated. "Roderick, your heir will be your nephew, Edrick. You shall arrange a marriage with a noble woman of the Rills and your two regions shall be as united as they have been for the last 30 years."

"It will be arranged, Lord Robb." Roderick nodded.

Robb turned to the Lord of the Rills then expectantly. "My family does not have a daughter old enough for Lord Dustin." Rodrik said, using the title snidely. "Lord Mazin does have a daughter old enough to wed, however. I can encourage him to accept."

"Excellent." Robb smiled. "And Lord Flint, your daughter is how old?"

"Danny will be 14 this year." Robin answered.

"Then she should be betrothed to Edrick." Robb told them. He stood up from the seat. "Does anybody have anything that they wish to add?" He waited barely a second for a response. "No? Good. Lord Roderick, I shall sup with you at dinner tonight." And with that he left the room, leaving the rest of the occupants to digest the rulings that Robb had given them.

Death loomed in the air of the Red Keep wherever Bran went. Over the past couple of weeks the situation had become extremely dire. The Grand Maester had died of the plague first, then closely followed by Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, and Ser Balman Byrch, the husband of Lady Falyse Stokeworth.

Bran was terrified, and as best he could he stuck to his own chambers when he wasn't required to perform any duties for Stannis. Unfortunately for the young Stark, he was required in the Small Council chambers today. He stood in the corner with a wine jug in his hands as the Small Council were debating the current events.

"1,573 bodies were burnt on the Wildfire pyre last night." Renly explained to them all. "The Pyromancers are happy that the fire is contained while continuing to burn."

Robert sighed. "That's more than the day before."

"The Arch Maester's in Appleton say that the disease has not spread outside the city walls." Lady Olenna explained. "We contained it well enough."

"That doesn't stop the people from dying in their thousands daily." Lord Wyman told them. "Even in the Red Keep. Black Walder Frey died earlier this morning."

Silence fell over the table as the news settled in. "The Queen? Princess Ellyn?" Stannis asked.

"Safe thus far and showing no symptoms." The replacement Maester for the time being, a middle aged Riverman named Ellor, stated. "They have been placed in the Maidenvault as your instructions stated, Your Grace."

"Good." Robert nodded. "No harm can come of them."

"It is grave news though, with deaths so close to the King." Lord Wyman grimaced.

Stannis nodded. "We need to act, Your Grace." He said to Robert.

Robert nodded. "Fuck!" He slammed his fist on the table. "You may have been right, Stannis." He turned to Renly. "How quickly can we have Fleabottom cleared?"

Renly thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on his chin. "2 days, max."

Robert was also deep in thought as he looked at a detailed map of the city and the plains around it. "Gather the skilled from all over the city. I want builders, architects, anybody with any decent amount of brains. Set anyone from Fleabottom that falls into that category and their families up in tents in the central square and have them start drafting a new, cleaner Fleabottom. The rest, we shall have to make do with a tent city outside the walls. Begin building wooden barricades between the Dragon Gate and the Iron Gate today, so that we can keep the people contained and stop them from running off and spreading this fucker." Renly nodded, writing it down. "Ser Davos, you are from Fleabottom, you help him."

"Aye, Your Grace." Davos bowed his head.

"Stannis." Robert then said, before he ran his hand over his face in dismay. "Arrange with the Pyromancers the safe destruction of Fleabottom. The illness is still largely contained there, hopefully this can flush it out."

"Your Grace, what if it's the people and not the area." Olenna said calmly.

Robert shook his head. "I will not murder innocents. We keep it contained and we burn as much infected material as we can in the Fleabottom fire, but the people have to have the chance to get out, is that understood?"

Stannis nodded. "I shall speak with the Pyromancer's straight away."

"Good." Robert said, getting up quickly and feeling a slight head rush. "I want this all done as quickly as possible. Get the wooden boundaries built before we start to move people out of Fleabottom." He reached up to his head as it started to ache. "We need tents and facilities being created…" He coughed into his hand. "Being created whilst the boundaries are being set up to, so the people have shelter."

"Robert…" Renly said, his eyes wide and looking at the King's hand.

"What?" Robert said as his stomach began to feel queasy.

"Your hand…" The younger Baratheon said fearfully. Robert looked at him like he was ridiculous and brought his hand into eye view, noticing specs of blood.

"What…" He whispered, before he curled over the table and vomited. The occupants of the room all leapt to their feet to stay out of range, and Robert looked fearful when mixed in with vomit was a not insignificant amount of blood.

"Robert!" Stannis cried. "Bran, run and get as many healers as you can! Lock down the Throne Room! Nobody other than the Maester's enter!"

Robert dropped to the floor as pain racked his body. "What?" He asked again weakly, before he lost consciousness.

Bran's eyes were wide in fear, but he was kicked out of his stupor by Stannis. "Brandon!" Nodding, he ran at full pace out of the Small Council chambers, hoping that the King would be alright.

Dinner with Roderick Dustin was informative for Robb. He listened as the new Lord of the Barrowlands spoke about his childhood growing up in Barrow Hall, how he and the former Lord, Willam, had been close as children. He also spoke about the three wars that he fought in, including the battles where he fought under Robb's own command. The Stark would even admit that he was looking forward to leaving Barrowton under his command.

After the meal Robb went for a walk through the wooden castle. He was still waiting on Howland Reed to finish with his investigation on Lady Barbrey's body before he could leave for Winterfell, and so he decided to learn what he could about Barrow Hall. He spoke to a number of the staff members, some that were old enough to give him stories about his uncle Brandon from the time he had fostered in Barrow Hall.

Night fell quickly however, and Robb felt it was around the time to retire. He made his way through the castle once more towards the chambers that he had been given for his stay, and as he was going through a corridor he could hear voices in the distance.

"Barba, that's enough." An elderly voice was saying.

"But Mother! I swear it. Even you must have noticed how different he is acting…" A younger woman said. Barba, Robb guessed

"Barba." The elder woman said sternly. "He is the Lord now."

The younger woman scoffed. "Then his mummery has fooled even Lord Stark."

That made Robb scowl, and he walked around the corner towards the two women. They looked similar, although one had sharp red hair and the other was greying. The elder woman was shocked at seeing Robb and dropped some blankets that she was holding. "Lord Stark… my apologies My Lord…"

"Don't apologise." Robb said kindly, kneeling down to help the woman pick up the blankets. He handed them back to her. "But you can explain."

"My Lord?" The elder woman said, giving a sharp look to the younger.

"Don't play the fool." Robb said, growing impatient. "I heard enough. How have I been made a fool?"

The elder woman looked petrified, but the younger stood firm. "I was Lady Barbrey's handmaid, My Lord." Barba explained. "I spent a lot of time with her as she dressed and bathed and did all my other duties. I even came to Winterfell for your wedding, though I couldn't attend obviously." That surprised Robb. "The Lady and Lord Roderick never got on, My Lord. Especially after Lord Willam died."

"How so?" Robb asked. He racked his brains but admittedly couldn't find any instance of Roderick talking about his Ryswell predecessor.

"He called her whore often, My Lord." Barba said unabashed.

"Barba…" The elderly lady whispered harshly.

"No mother!" Barba exclaimed. "Lady Barbrey was my friend, even if I was just a servant." She turned to Robb. "He never forgave her for loving your Uncle, My Lord. And when she got the castle over his Father after Lord Willam's death… he grew angry and resentful. Lady Barbrey was constantly sorting his messes out and he would always belittle her."

"He's our Lord now." The mother pleaded.

Barba scoffed. "He shouldn't be." She turned to Robb again. "My Lord forgive my brashness, but days before My Lady died they were embroiled in a bitter argument. I was told that for a few years Lord Roderick had been trying to forcefully marry her to claim the castle, but My Lady refused, still in mourning."

Robb grimaced. That complicated things. "And you think he is acting right now."

"He is more polite than normal, My Lord." The mother said, and Robb knew that something was amiss now. "But that could be because he isn't at odds with Lady Barbrey anymore."

"Or because he's gotten away with murder!" Barba exclaimed, and Robb shushed them harshly.

"If this is true, and you aren't misleading me." Robb said looking at the younger woman pointedly. "Then it will be investigated. Lord Howland Reed is examining her body as we speak. If something appears unnatural then I shall act, you have my word. Now go about your business and stop talking about this, am I understood?"

The elder woman curtseyed. "Of course, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord." Barba copied the actions and the words too, before she was dragged away by the elder woman.

Robb sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He needed answers now before Roderick had a chance to fully settle into his new role. He turned around and stormed towards the Maester's chambers. He barged in to find the man sat down reading a book. "Lord Stark." The man stammered. "What can I do for you?"

"Tell me about Roderick Dustin." Robb demanded. "You've been at this castle for many years, you should know things."

The Maester chuckled. "Lady Dustin never trusted me much, My Lord. Only for medical matters. For the most part I was kept up here with nothing but my books and my potions. Not even the ravens were put under my watch." He didn't sound bitter, just tired.

"Humour me." Robb said calmly.

"I spent rarely any time with Lord Roderick." The Maester shrugged. "As a child he was a boisterous young man that wanted to be around Lord Willam every chance he could. As an adult? I couldn't say, it wasn't long after the Rebellion when Lady Dustin restricted my duties."

Robb grimaced as he went to look out of the window at the town below when the door opened, and Howland Reed entered. "Lord Robb."

"Lord Reed." Robb greeted. "Have you come to a conclusion?"

Howland nodded, though his eyes looked angry. "Nightshade."

Robb cursed under his breath. "Not Winter Fever?"

Howland shook his head. "Luwin was right, Winter Fever is highly contagious. No, this was murder, and was covered up."

Robb turned to the Maester with venom in his eyes. "You told me earlier you were called upon for medical matters. Does claiming a poisoning as Winter Fever fall under that term?"

The Maester gulped. "My Lord…"

"Answer me!" Robb shouted. "One of my Father's banners has been murdered, and I'm here being misled!"

"I was sworn to secrecy." The Maester fell to his knees before Robb. "If I didn't claim it was natural, I was to be dismembered, boiled alive and worse!"

"Who by?" Howland asked coldly.

"My Lord…" The Maester begged. "I can't."

Robb took a step forward and squatted down so that he was level with the Maester. "You've been lying to me. I don't like liars, Maester. Now tell me the truth and you can go back to the Citadel without being harmed, or I can execute you for being a part of this murder."

The Maester looked like he was about to cry when Robb stood up and reached towards his sword belt. "No! My Lord please, it… it was Lord Roderick! He came to be and robbed my stores, he threatened me! I had no choice!"

There it was. Robb relaxed his arm and clenched his teeth, nodding. "Thank you, Maester. Now pack your things and prepare to ride to White Harbour. I'll send word to Lord Wyman that a ship to Oldtown should be prepared."

The Maester slumped in defeat. "Of course, Lord Stark."

Robb didn't wait to see him start packing, and instead whipped around and walked briskly out of the room followed by Howland Reed. "What is your plan?" Howland asked.

"The laws of the land are clear." Robb answered quickly. "Murder is punishable by death. Lord Roderick will pay for his crimes."

Robb wasted no time in summoning the relevant people to the main hall to explain his decision. There was a small crowd gathered, with Lords Ryswell and Flint growing angry at the deception, the steward Callor breaking down into angry tears, as well as Edrick Dustin's mother, the sister of Lord Harwood Stout, explaining what would happen to the young boy. Lord Stout stayed calm throughout Robb's explanation, but when the Stark explained his final decision he was amongst Robb's firmest supporters.

"I shall fetch him, My Lord." Lord Harwood bowed. "He won't be overly suspicious this way."

Robb nodded. "Take half a dozen of my own men. Clap him in irons and bring him here." He instructed. Lord Harwood bowed once more and nodded, three men in the livery of House Stout also following him. The main hall was silent for what seemed like hours then, as the reality of the situation settled in for everyone.

"You can leave." Lady Alyssa Stout whispered to her son, Edrick. "You don't need to see this."

"Our Word Does Not Die." Edrick said firmly, the 12-year-old acting way older than his years in that moment. "Roderick disrespected our ancestors and our traditions by murdering Aunt Barbrey, Mother. I need to see this to show the people that I don't condone what he did."

"Well said." Lord Ryswell nodded. "The boy should be here to see justice done."

"He is a boy of 12, Lord Ryswell." Alyssa snapped.

Robb had to say something then. "He is also now the Lord of the Barrowlands, and it will be his job to see justice done in the region." He spoke firmly, before he sighed. "My Father started taking my brothers and I to witness justice done at the age of 10, Edrick is ready and willing." Alyssa Stout didn't look happy, but she bowed her head acceptingly and stood back, holding her hands on Edrick's shoulders. Robb left the seat and walked down to stand before the boy. "I'm going to give you the same advice I was told as a child. Don't look away. You'll understand it more if you don't look away."

"I won't, Lord Robb." Edrick said determinedly, and Robb decided he liked the boy. Nodding, he returned back to the high seat when raised voices could be heard from outside. The doors opened and in came Lord Stout, dragging an enraged Roderick Dustin behind him. The prisoner was thrown to his knees before Robb, who stood looking down at him, glaring.

"Lord Roderick." Robb said formally. "You are here on suspicion of the murder of Lady Barbrey Dustin."

"She died from a fever." Roderick scoffed.

Robb shook his head. "Your Maester confessed your threats, and Lord Howland here successfully deduced the poison."

Howland Reed stepped out from the corner of the room. Nightshade, My Lord. The body had started to rot, and it was difficult to decipher it is true, but the signs were there."

"Lies!" Roderick roared.

"You poisoned my daughter!" Rodrik Ryswell roared louder.

"ENOUGH!" Robb shouted, silencing the room. "The evidence is unmistakeable. For the crime of murder, your life is forfeit."

"My Lord!" Rodrik Ryswell exclaimed as Roderick Dustin processed the news. "Let me be the one to swing the sword!"

Robb balked. He had always been taught that he should be the one to do so if he sentenced somebody to death, but as he looked at the rage and hurt etched on Lord Ryswell's face he thought on Beron. "My Father always taught me that the man who passes the sentence should be the one to swing the sword, Lord Ryswell. But I also know that if any harm came to my son, I would not rest until I had avenged him. Take your vengeance." And with that Robb sat back down.

Rodrik Ryswell grinned and unsheathed his sword. A wooden block had been brought out by a Stark soldier and Roderick Dustin's neck was forced down onto it. "The gods will torment you for eternity." Lord Ryswell growled, and he swung ferociously, taking Roderick Dustin's head off with one swing. The Lord of the Rills said nothing, but he handed his sword to a man in the colours of House Ryswell and skulked away.

The room began to empty when he left, and after a couple of minutes there was only Robb, his guard, and Lord Edrick and his Mother. Robb noticed that Edrick hadn't stopped staring at the head. He walked down to them and said to Lady Alyssa. "Go and grab someone to clean this mess up, I will talk to Edrick." Alyssa looked unsure, but thankfully she nodded and walked towards the servant's quarters. Robb turned to the boy then. "You did well."

"It just seems odd, him being dead now." Edrick stated.

Robb nodded. "That will fade."

"And now I'm the Lord."

"You are." Robb nodded. "Lord Stout will be your regent for the time being until you turn 16, but you are Lord Dustin now. Listen to your uncle, but make sure that you listen to yourself as well."

"I will." Edrick nodded. "Thank you, Lord Robb."

"For what?" Robb asked.

Edrick looked down at the body and the growing puddle of blood. "For avenging my aunt."

Robb nodded, and tussled the boy's dark, curly hair before he pulled him away from the body and escorted him to his chambers. The finer details of the transition could be worked out the next day, he thought. For now Robb was just grateful that the issue had been seemingly sorted once and for all.

It had taken a week for the ships to return to Hardhome for the third time, and that week had been a steep learning experience for Ned. He had thrown himself into Wildling culture with the aid of Mance Rayder and the simple lifestyle almost appealed to Ned. After being sceptical of the rehabilitation in the first place, he now knew that he had changed his mind entirely.

The number of Wildlings gathered at Hardhome had made a few round trips necessary, and Ned had been adamant that he would travel with the last wave along with Mance Rayder as a show of union. The woman chief Karsi had led the first wave, followed by the large ginger, Tormund, that Ned had recognised from Torrhen's visions who had led the second wave. When the ships returned, Mance had moved quickly to shepherd the last remaining Wildling's onto the boats, whilst Ned had noticed a black, hooded figure atop the cliffs. Remembering Torrhen's last letter to him, Ned grinned.

"How do I get up there?" Ned asked a random Wildling, who explained the quickest was. Ned thanked him and began the trek, reaching the cliffside a little while later. As he walked towards the lone figure he looked down at the huge gathering of people still huddled around the shoreline waiting for the longboats to return, some 25,000 had been left for the last wave and the numbers still scared Ned slightly.

"I've hunted Wildling's since I can remember." The lone figure, now dismounted, said in a familiar voice. "Ever since I arrived at Castle Black."

"Mance Rayder calls you the Bane of the Free Folk." Ned smirked. "You have quite the reputation in these parts, Benjen."

Benjen Stark snorted in amusement. "I did my duty, rightly or wrongly." He turned to face Ned. "It's good to see you."

Ned moved to grip his younger brother in a tight embrace. "And you." He said softly. "Where have you been? We heard that you went missing, and then Torrhen mentioned that you showed him the path to Mance…"

"I'm dead, Ned." Benjen said abruptly, shocking the elder Stark. "For the most part anyway. The White Walker's killed me, but the Children brought me back as best they could."

Ned could feel his emotions rising, but thankfully he kept them under control. "I feared that this couldn't be prevented with you so far away."

Benjen shook his head. "I still have my part to play here, while you have your part to play in Winterfell."

"I just wish there was something I could do." Ned sighed. "It's just me now, Ben." He could feel his eyes watering. "Father's gone, Brandon's gone, Lya's gone, and now so are you."

Benjen nodded, his eyes lingering on the ground. "You have your family, and we are always with you, never forget that."

Ned nodded. "I sometimes wonder what happened for us to deserve such a fate, why I was picked as the one to lead. But then I look at Robb and Beron, I see Torrhen and Sansa bickering, or Arya acting exactly as Lya used to." He chuckled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "All of the younger children too, and I then wonder how I've been so blessed."

"You're a good man, Ned." Benjen smiled. "Better than most in this world."

"I don't see that." Ned shrugged. "I'm just a man, doing his duty."

"You inspire people." Benjen told him. "You inspire your children, you inspire Jon. You inspire the entire North. We are safe under your leadership, I've known that ever since you returned from Dorne. That's why I felt like I could join the Watch when I did, I had faith in you."

Ned smiled, hugging his brother again. "I best go and get on the boats. Are you sure you can't come with me?"

Benjen shook his head. "There's magic in the Wall, I cannot go beyond it. I will do my part here though, I swear to you." Ned gulped, realising that this might be the last time he saw his brother, and Benjen spotted that. "I'll see you again, big brother." Benjen smirked.

Ned grinned, hugging Benjen one more time. "Send word whenever you can." He half ordered jovially, before the Lord of Winterfell turned away and began his descent down the cliffs, his pained thoughts focused solely on his siblings.