Chapter 51: Reunion of Ice and Fire

304 AC

Ned Stark watched from the battlements of the East Gate as the procession began to weave its way down the ploughed road. Winter wasn't quite here yet, but as Ned looked across the white fields that separated Winterfell from the Wintertown, it was surely close.

It had been a long year since Robert Baratheon had died. Arya had left for Bear Island to foster with House Mormont soon after the news had arrived in the North and was supposedly thriving on the island. Then Torrhen and Mira had taken Asher to King's Landing, having been forced to stay for longer than they had wanted due to negotiations about the Night's Watch and the Free Folk. Ned was grateful that Torrhen and Mira had resolved that with the King and was also thankful that as far as he was aware, the Free Folk had held up their end of the bargain by remaining peaceful. Small skirmishes had occurred between Free Folk and Northman, but nothing requiring Winterfell's attention which Ned was happy about.

Greyport was growing on the North's west coast, with Oldtown and Seagard being two extremely important trading allies for the new town. Robett Glover's castle of Shorestone was also just about completed, with only the final tower and furnishings needing to be completed from his last report. Even Wolfswatch in the Gift was coming along, with the Giants lending a helping hand to Rickon's future stronghold.

The only castle under construction that Ned had actually seen in the past year was Moat Cailin, and he was almost jealous of Torrhen. All but two towers were now completed, and the Winter Gate was a mighty barricade. Ned had spent almost a week there after the gate had been completed and he could almost visualise how to defend it, the plans of which formed a rather large wad of parchment in his Winterfell solar.

Around three months after Torrhen and Mira left for the capital, Winterfell emptied. Catelyn had taken Sara and Rickon, along with Robin Arryn to Riverrun in order to say a final farewell to her Father. Robb, Wylla and Beron had joined them, leaving Winterfell almost empty apart from Sansa. It had allowed for Ned to get a lot of work done, but he missed his family. That was why he was currently stood watching as the procession rode towards Winterfell, eagerly anticipating their arrival.

Once they were close enough Ned took the steps down to the ground and waited in the courtyard, and he was soon joined by Sansa and her husband. Sansa had been invaluable as the Lady of Winterfell in Cat and Wylla's absence, and Ned was truly proud as to how his eldest daughter had grown.

"Are they almost here?" Sansa asked excitedly.

Ned nodded. "Moments away." Sansa squealed and clapped her gloved hands together, causing Domeric to laugh and pull her towards him, calming her down.

"RIDERS AT THE GATES!" A voice called from the top of the gate, and it opened up agonisingly slowly. Ned watched as the first horses galloped into the courtyard, and he wasn't surprised to see Rickon and Robin Arryn racing one another, closely followed by Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Red. His youngest son was now 9 with thick curly auburn hair, and from Robb's letters he was turning out to be a fine young swordsman. Robin Arryn meanwhile was the polar opposite to the boy that had been smuggled out of King's Landing. He was growing tall and his shoulders were starting to broaden. He was 13 now and whilst he would never be an expert warrior, he was a fine rider and had even had wits about him, Robb reported.

"I won!" Robin exclaimed excitedly.

"You cheated!" Rickon cried out.

"Did not!" Robin retorted.

The heir to Winterfell, now 20 years of age and a strapping, bearded man, rode in quickly after them. "Boys! What did we say!" He barked.

Robin and Rickon both looked down still sat atop their horses. "To ride in formation." They murmured.

"And racing off was not formation." He chastised them. "What must Father think."

Ned couldn't care less. He stepped forwards towards Rickon and helped him off his horse. "I'll allow it, this once." He told Rickon pointedly. "Only because I have missed you all so much." He hugged Rickon tightly, as Sansa did the same to Robb and Robin. Ned then moved to Robb and allowed Rickon to start babbling on to Sansa. "It is good to see you, son."

"And you Father." Robb admitted. "I've missed this place."

Ned looked behind at the still open gate. "Your mother?"

"In the wheelhouse with Wylla and the children." Robb answered. "Lyarra was fussing this morning and Mother was adamant that Rickon was the youngest allowed to ride alone. Beron wasn't happy."

"Beron is riding?" Ned asked, happily.

"Only ponies and strong foals and even then only at a walking pace unless he's with me or Wylla." Robb answered. "But yes, he's almost as natural as Arya, you'll have to watch him. Uncle Edmure gifted him a Bracken pony for his 4th nameday."

Ned smiled fondly at the thought of his Grandson, but then Robb's words truly sunk in. "Lyarra… she is well?" He asked after his daughter, who Cat had named after his own Mother. Lyarra Stark had been born whilst Catelyn had been in Riverrun and Ned had almost ridden down to meet her. Sansa had been the one to dissuade him from that, but Ned was itching to meet his youngest, and likely his last, child.

"She is healthy." Robb smiled. "She's sitting up on her own now."

That pained Ned a bit as he thought on the things he had missed, but overall he was just happy that he had another healthy child. "We have truly been blessed." He said softly.

"Aye, we have." Robb grinned. "I cannot wait for you to meet Rodrik, either."

The reason that they had all stayed for so long at Riverrun was a shock to Ned once the raven had arrived at Winterfell, but just before they had departed it seems that Wylla had gotten pregnant too, eventually birthing another boy, Rodrik. He was only a couple of months old at his point, but the ever-growing family truly filled Ned's heart with more joy than he could ever put into words. "We shall have plenty of time for introductions." Ned explained. In the distance he saw the wheelhouse coming into view. "For now though, I must greet your Mother."

Robb nodded knowingly and went back over to Sansa, dragging the two younger boys with him. "Stay still." He warned them, and Ned chuckled at the paternal like authority that was coming from his son.

He watched the wheelhouse pull into the courtyard and stop, the steps being brought around and the doors opening. First out came Beron and Sara, both running to their Father's. Ned hugged his daughter tightly as Wylla Manderly then left the wheelhouse holding a tiny bundle. Initial greetings were had, but Ned soon saw the last figure in the wheelhouse and his breath hitched.

Catelyn was still as beautiful as he had ever thought her. In her arms she held a baby, a dark haired, dark grey eyed baby. Ned felt tears in his eyes as he swept towards them, wrapping his spare arm around his wife and kissing her softly on the lips. "My Lady." He said softly.

"My Lord." Cat smiled. "Meet your daughter, Lyarra." She let him take a step back and place Sara on her feet as Ned took his own mother's namesake in his arms, holding her up to his face. Lyarra screwed her eyes up as she initially rejected the stranger in front of her, but as Ned placed a gentle kiss to her head, the dark-haired baby giggled and gripped his beard tightly.

"A small feast has been prepared." Ned told them all. "I'll let you all settle in and we shall meet in the hall in an hour."

An hour later and both the wine and the food were flowing nicely. Ned had told them all what had happened in the North while they had been away and was listening to all the southern news. As well as the new Stark arrivals, Edmure had had another son, named Oscar. Cat was glowing as she spoke about her niece and nephew. "Axel reminds me of Edmure when he was young, so full of life and laughs." She explained. "He grew very close to Beron."

That was exactly what Ned had wanted. "I'm glad to hear it." He nodded. "We will have to encourage that friendship."

"I don't think that will be hard." Wylla admitted. "It almost took a small army to pry them away from one another when it was time to leave."

The adults chuckled. "I am glad you enjoyed yourselves, all of you." Ned admitted. "We need times like those to forge memories worth fighting for." He knew he had darkened the tone, but as it had been for the last 7 years, the coming battle with the dead was in the back of his mind.

"Ned…" Cat warned.

"He's right, Mother." Robb told her. "Riverrun was a well needed break, but reality beckons." He turned to Ned. "Have we heard from Torrhen recently?"

Ned paled. "Not since Volantis… and that was many weeks ago…"

Torrhen's sense of déjà vu was basically numb by this point as it seemed to flare up regularly. As he stood on the deck of the Frostfang as the ship sailed towards the city of Meereen the Lord of the Causeway felt it again staring up at the gigantic pyramids dotted across the skyline. The harbour looked busy with traders from the distance he was at, a sight which Torrhen smiled at as he scratched Balerion's fur beside him. "Here we are again, Bal." He murmured. "Once again seeking an audience with Daenerys Targaryen."

"Papa!" He heard a high-pitched voice racing towards him. Turning around just in time, Torrhen knelt down and scooped his sprinting three-year-old son up in his arms.

"What are you doing up on deck?" He asked Asher, who just grinned.

"I wanted to see you." The toddler said innocently.

Torrhen chuckled and held him up, pointing towards the pyramids. "These are the pyramids of Meereen. This is where your Uncle Jon is, you remember us talking about your Uncle Jon?" Asher nodded.

"Asher Stark!" A stern voice sounded. Torrhen turned again to see Mira coming towards them angrily. "What did I say about wearing fur?"

Asher pouted. "It too hot." He spoke babylike. Torrhen hadn't even noticed that his son had clumsily wrapped a fur cloak around his shoulders. Chuckling, he unstrapped it with his free hand and handed the cloak to his wife.

"Thank you." Mira said, although she seemed exasperated. "Come on, we will soon arrive, and you haven't tidied your chest up, your toys are everywhere."

Torrhen put Asher back down on the deck and allowed Mira to drag the toddler away, and he returned to stroking Balerion whilst he looked over the water as the ship sailed into the docks. This time they weren't met by a rowboat and were guided straight in and were allowed to dock immediately. Torrhen met up with his wife and son as the ship ground to a halt, and before he stepped off the ship he caught the captain. "Make sure that my chambers are locked at all times. Nobody is to enter, and nobody is to go into the chest." He instructed. The captain bowed, and Torrhen stepped off of the ship for the first time in weeks, followed by Mira, Asher, and a pair of men dressed in Stark leathers.

At the end of the pier a small procession had gathered. Torrhen recognised the dozens of Unsullied spears and armour, even noticing the familiar glare of Grey Worm, he grinned when he noticed Missandei's untameable hair, and then he saw the Northmen. Jory Cassel looked older, but Torrhen was more than glad to see the loyal man still alive. His last memory of Ser Jorah was of the old man dead in Daenerys' arms as Torrhen himself bled out in Jon's, so to see the Knight of Bear Island alive and well made the grin on Torrhen's face widen, and then he saw the two that he had travelled all this way to see.

Jon was taller, and he had grown out his beard a bit. His hair was tied back in the same manner Torrhen's was, a replication of Ned's style. He wore dark clothing as always, the black offset with grey detailing, but Torrhen saw the hint of red on the inside of Jon's cape. Daenerys on the other hand looked as beautiful as Torrhen remembered, in a revealing white dress that really brought out her purple eyes.

Torrhen and his party stopped a couple of feet away from the Targaryen party just off the wooden pier and they were all silent for a moment. Torrhen looked from Jon to Dany and back again multiple times before he broke out into a happy laughter. "Your Grace." He bowed his head towards Daenerys.

"You never need to call me that, Torrhen Stark." Daenerys told him firmly. "Never."

Torrhen grinned. "Dany." He corrected himself. "Jon, or is it Aegon now?"

"Always Jon." Jon responded, ignoring all formalities and stepping forwards to envelop Torrhen in a fierce hug. "I have missed you, brother."

"And I you." Torrhen told him, returning the hug. They squeezed for a few seconds before stepping back, and Torrhen moved to hug Daenerys. "It is wonderful to see you."

Dany had tears forming in her eyes. "I thought I never would again." She said, before looking behind him at the rest of Torrhen's group. "Balerion." She grinned. Balerion didn't move, but his tongue flopped out of his mouth in a sort of grin. Then Dany looked to Mira and Asher in her arms.

"May I introduce Lady Mira Stark, my wife." Torrhen said, stepping aside for Mira to come forwards. "And our son, Asher."

Dany's grin was wide now too. "I always hoped that he found you." She said to Mira. "It is an honour to meet you, My Lady."

Mira curtseyed. "The honour is mine, Your Grace." She said. "Thank you for looking after him when I couldn't."

Dany suddenly looked shocked and her eyes darted to Torrhen, who laughed. "She knows, she's back too."

"Right…" Dany trailed off. "It seems we do have a lot to discuss." She gestured for them to follow her. "Rooms will be prepared for you and your men in the Great Pyramid, I'm sure you are in need of a long rest."

A small feast was had that night, but Torrhen and Mira both retired early in order to rest in a proper bed for the first time in months. Torrhen found himself awake before dawn the next morning however, and after trying to fall back to sleep, he silently got out of bed and put on some loose fitting trousers and a white bed shirt, grabbed Winter's Bite and some cleaning tools for the blade and snuck out of the room towards Daenerys' balcony in the apex of the pyramid. Balerion followed him and curled up at his feet as Torrhen unsheathed Winter's Bite and began the process of oiling it.

"You cannot sleep either?" Dany asked from the doorway. She brought herself a chair too and sat down opposite Torrhen, who continued his ministrations on the sword.

"I forgot how hot it is here." Torrhen admitted. "It took me a while to get used to it before."

Dany nodded, looking out onto the moonlit city. "Things are a lot different than before." She commented. "The area is safer, more amenable to change. My years of experience in King's Landing were beneficial in helping me keep the peace this time around."

That statement gave more information about what had happened after his own death than anything since his vision when he first got sent back. "You beat Cersei then?" He asked. Before he died they hadn't planned too far ahead after the battle against the White Walkers with them not knowing how their combined armies would look afterwards.

Dany smiled and nodded. "It was tough… I still look back on that battle and remember how I almost let myself burn the city to the ground…" She winced, but the calm stare from Torrhen made her sigh and explain herself. "She had these scorpions made and one of them struck Rhaegal and Jon… he fell, and I just felt something in myself snap. But then I saw a child pulling at the arm of her mother that had died at my doing, and I caught myself." She sniffed and wiped a tear away. "This all happened decades ago for me and I still remember the girls face."

"Decades?" Torrhen asked hopefully. "You lived for so long?"

Dany nodded, smiling. "I had great grandchildren, Torrhen." She told him. "Daeron and Baelon were babes when I died, but I lived to see them."

Torrhen was pleased for her. "I am glad." He told her. "So you had a boy? In our last private conversation you let slip that you were with child." And then he had gotten into an argument with Wylla Manderley, but he quickly glossed over that.

Dany nodded. "Of course, I forgot that I was pregnant when you died." She said softly. "Aemon we named him, and then we had Rhaegar."

"And what of…" Torrhen trailed off, not knowing if he wanted to know.

"Cregan was a close ally and friend." Dany explained. "I travelled up to Winterfell last for Wylla's funeral, 6 years before my own death. He was happy, he thought of you as a hero even then." She chuckled. "Sansa would tell him stories as a babe, and they stuck with him. I remember the last time I was in the crypts, Cregan was 40 years of age and still asking questions about his Father."

Torrhen had his own tears now. "Thank you." He whispered. "For telling me. I love Asher and I love my life here, but in the back of my head I have always thought on Cregan. That's my curse for living a second life I feel, not knowing him."

"He would have made you proud." Dany insisted. "He named his heir after you, and your Grandson Torrhen had had a boy when I last saw him. House Stark was growing."

Torrhen chuckled, wiping his tear away. "I doubt as much as it has now." He told her, and he began to speak on everything that had happened in Westeros since his return, speaking of visiting the Green Man and going to war against the Lannisters, forging lasting alliances and having Asher so young. Then he spoke on the trip north of the Wall and meeting the Wildlings.

"So we have a large force back home?" Dany asked. "Because I don't think I'll get the Dothraki this time."

Torrhen nodded. "We have the men, we just need the fire." He looked around. "You have the dragons, right?"

Dany smirked, and she began her own tale. Most of it Torrhen knew as it was similar to before, but her relationship with Jon and his own actions in Essos were fascinating to him. "I'm pleased you have each other early this time around."

Dany smiled. "Me too. I enjoyed our… dalliance… but it was never quite enough. I hope I don't offend you saying that." She chuckled.

Torrhen shook his head amusedly. "We used each other for comfort in times of crisis, I will never regret that." He told her. "But I am infinitely happier now than I ever was back then. Mira being alive… it's freeing."

"It's good to see you so happy." Dany admitted. "But anyway, the dragons. They are about, somewhere. After taking King's Landing I took it upon myself to know everything I possibly could about dragonlore, and whilst they are still wild creatures, I have Drogon and Viserion well under control."

The name drops didn't escape Torrhen. "Rhaegal?"

"Is Jon's responsibility." Dany grinned. "They bonded. He is as large as Drogon but calmer, more calculating."

"Can they make the journey across the Narrow Sea?" Torrhen asked eagerly, placing Winter's Bite back in its sheath and leaning forwards. "Are they ready for that?"

"Perhaps." Dany replied cautiously. "You have a plan, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Torrhen nodded. "This isn't just a social call, Dany. Robert Baratheon is dead."

Dany took a sharp intake of breath. "I had heard rumours…" She whispered.

"He is dead, he has been for a while." Torrhen explained. "And while Stannis Baratheon sits the Iron Throne now, my Father understands the importance of you and the dragons. If you are willing, he has offered the hospitality of Winterfell."

Dany grinned. "I yearn for my home, and I know Jon does even more so. Give me a couple of weeks to settle things here and we shall depart."

Torrhen honestly wasn't expecting it to be so easy. "Just like that?"

"I have a ruling council, I am just the figurehead." Dany shrugged. "All of the Bay of Dragons can rule efficiently and slave free without me being here. I have done what I set out to do, the time has come for me to come home."

Later on that day when the city awoke, Jon took Torrhen down to the area of the Great Pyramid that he had turned into a training yard and the two Northmen were putting each other through their paces. Both of their experiences over the last few years had made them both far better than the last time they had sparred together, and by the end of the bout they were both panting and sweating like mad. Torrhen pulled his shirt off as he dropped the training sword to the ground and gulped down some water.

"I can't believe how much you've grown." Jon chuckled, having a drink himself.

Torrhen shrugged. "The last time you saw me I was 13 and barely a man, now I'm almost 18 and a man grown, a Lord in my own right." He grinned as he grabbed a cloth to wipe his sweat. "A lot has happened since you left, Jon. We're all different."

Jon's smile dropped. "I know, and I wish I could see you all." He said solemnly.

"You will." Torrhen said, dropping the cloth and placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, squeezing. "We'll all be back together soon enough, you'll see."

"It will never be the same though." Jon said. "I'm not trying to be down about it and wish for things to go back to how it was, I've just missed out on so much being away. I mean, look at you, you're a Father, Tor."

Torrhen grinned as he thought of Asher. "I am." He confirmed. "As is Robb."

"And Sansa is wed…" Jon trailed. "I've just missed so much." He repeated.

"But look at you here." Torrhen tried to be positive. "You're basically the King of Meereen, you and Daenerys conquered Slaver's Bay and made it your own. You should be proud!"

"I am." Jon admitted. "And I love Daenerys with all I have, don't mistake my reminiscing for regret, brother." He sighed dramatically. "But she could have done all this without me, she did do all this without me." He shuddered. "I still can't quite get over this whole other lives thing."

Torrhen nodded. "It was tough to get used to at first, but then I remember what the other world was like. We were at odds because I didn't tell you about your heritage straight away, Father was dead, Mother was dead, Robb was dead… even Rickon died." He felt immense pain as he remembered them all. "Winterfell was burnt, I was forced to come here for an alliance, Mira…" He stopped to compose himself before the younger of the pair broke down. "When I died, in your arms by the way, we got a second chance to fix all of those wrongs. No it hasn't been perfect, we've lost people, but House Stark is still strong. Our family is still alive."

Jon nodded, smiling awkwardly for a brief moment. "Can you show me?" He asked. "Your other time."

Torrhen nodded. "When we are back. I need a Weirwood." He admitted. "For now though, you can tell me about your time in Essos, I hear you and Dany even share chambers." His eyebrow was raised enquiringly, and the grin on Torrhen's face just showed the teasing nature of his question.

"Not like that." Jon defended himself. "We aren't married…"

"So?" Torrhen asked.

"I won't father a bastard." Jon stated snappily. "You know that."

Torrhen held his hands up to show he wasn't trying to be aggressive. "I've been here a day, and already I can see that you are already her husband, in actions if not in name. Why not just wed, there has to be a ceremony here..."

"There is." Jon sighed, finding a chair to sit himself in. "But it's not the same. We both want it to be under our own Gods, not these foreign ones."

Torrhen could understand that. "You're a better man than me, Jon. That's for certain." He probably should have married Daenerys when they had their time together before, and Torrhen remembered how adamantly he believed he was doing the right thing by refusing. As he looked at Jon now however, he knew that thoughts like that would only tether him to the past. "But as far as I can tell, a lack of marriage doesn't mean you've not been having fun…"

Jon snorted in laughter. "Aye, you could say that."

Swords clashed fiercely as Bran panted, trying to stay ahead of his opponent and look for the finishing blow. He ducked, dodged and jumped out of the way of Ser Justin Massey, before bringing his shield up to block another blow, pushing the sword to the left before jabbing out and poking his training sword into the Red Keep's Master-at-Arms' midriff.

"Dead." The 14-year-old Stark panted, letting his sword arm hang loose at his side and stepping back. He looked over at some of the applause and saw his betrothed applauding, with Summer laying down at her side. Grinning, he took his helmet off and went to grab some water.

"Very good, Stark." Ser Justin nodded approvingly. "Though you're still clumsy with your shield. It should be an extension of your arm, not something that's in the way."

Bran rolled his eyes. "It is in the way though, neither of my brothers use one."

Ser Justin shook his head. "You are not your brothers, and whilst you are in my yard, you will listen, understand?"

"Of course he does." The voice of King Stannis was heard, and Bran looked up to see the Lord of the Seven Kingdom's walking towards them, flanked by Ser Rolland Storm and Ser Hugh of the Vale. He had changed his crown soon after his coronation, now preferring a simple golden band with small stag antlers sticking out the top. "Brandon wishes to become a southern knight, not a barrow knight, and he will learn the ways of knighthood through southern teachings."

"Your Grace." Ser Justin bowed his head, and Bran followed suit.

"Leave us, Ser Justin." Stannis commanded. "I would speak with my squire." Ser Justin bowed his head and took Bran's training sword and shield before clearing the training yard. "Follow me." Bran did as he was asked and the quartet of King, squire and Kingsguard all walked towards the Red Keep. "My daughter seems adamant that she should miss her lessons to watch you train."

Bran blushed at the thought of Shireen. They had spent a good amount of time together in the year since the coronation and Bran thought of her as a good friend, and they had even shared a kiss a couple of months ago after her nameday celebrations, although neither had spoken of it since. "I am grateful for the Princesses support, Your Grace." He explained. "She reminds me of why I need to get better, to protect our future."

Stannis nodded curtly. "Very good." He told the young man. They walked on for longer, before arriving at the King's chambers. They walked to the balcony and stared down at the city below. Fleabottom was almost rebuilt, with only a few more amenities still to be completed. The housing was smart and compact, the buildings dyed as red as the Red Keep to keep with the theme of the city. "I look down on the city and see an achievement, yet the people still blame me for the destruction of the old Fleabottom."

"The people don't see your vision." Bran countered. "They only see that their homes were ordered to be destroyed."

Stannis nodded. "One day it could well be your responsibility to care for these people. Renly is my heir yes, but as Cersei Lannister proved, the succession is never secure. If by chance Shireen does come to rule King's Landing, it is important to not let the peoples displeasure detract you from your goal." Bran nodded at the lesson. "You are aware of the terms of your betrothal, are you not?"

Bran nodded. "We are to wed when the Princess turns 16 next year, and all children shall take the Baratheon name due to the wedding being…" He forgot the word.

"Matrilineal." Stannis finished for him. "Yes. Though you will still be 15 and will be required to foster with me until you come of age."

That wasn't an issue for Bran, he had come to enjoy his life at court after all and was in no rush to live on Dragonstone for the rest of his life. "Robb has two sons, Torrhen has one. I'd be proud to have Baratheon children." He said formally. "I was thinking…" He trailed off, not knowing if he should ask his next question.

"Go on." Stannis encouraged.

"I had a thought about my sigil." Bran admitted. "I'm not a knight yet and cannot have my own personal one, but when I do, I wondered if it would be ok with you to change my colours?"

Stannis raised an eyebrow. "This is a conversation you should have with your Father, not me."

"Except the colours I want to change it to are House Baratheon's." Bran added quickly. "A black Direwolf on a field of gold." Stannis looked down at Bran with a look of both surprise and respect. "I thought, since I have this Lordship because of your daughter, and my knighthood eventually thanks to you, it would be good to honour you both."

Stannis nodded, a rare smile hinted at on his lips. "I would like that." He said calmly. "Thank you, Brandon."

Bran grinned. "Do you need me to fetch you your supper?" He asked. Stannis nodded, and Bran bowed low and left the King's chambers for the kitchens, feeling like skipping in delight the whole way.