Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Winterfell, the North
283 AC.
There was an ever-growing tension between Lord Stark and his lady wife. Catelyn wanted a Sept to pray in and a Septa to raise their daughters. Naturally, Eddard had refused, stating passionately that he was of the North and followed the Old Gods.
If he gave in to his wife’s demands, his bannerman would see him as weak-willed, turning his back on the Old Gods. His children would be raised in the ways of the North and not the South.
Robb would be educated by Maester Luwin, and Sansa and Arya would be educated by a North Woman. To make things worse. Ned’s mother, grandfather, and nephew were visiting from Breakstone Hill.
Robb was excited about meeting his cousin Jon, Grandmother Lyarra, and Great Grandfather Rodrik Flint.
Ned hadn’t heard from Benjen yet. His only surviving sibling and brother had gone to the Essos to raise an army with former Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower. Ned prayed to the Old Gods to watch over them both and keep them safe. The Essos were a dangerous place.
There had been news from the south. Cersei Lannister was once again with child. Even if Robert had an heir, it mattered little to Ned. He had plans of his own for the north and putting Nephew on the throne.
The Northern Navy and Merchant Fleet were coming along nicely. Ned was looking into ways to make the North more self-sufficient and not rely so heavily on the Southern Kingdoms.
Growing foods and crops that could withstand the harshness of the North. Timber and fur were making good money from his trade deal with Dorne. Ned looked for another way to make money and help Aelyx when the time came.
Cross-breeding Northern Horses with Dornish Sand Steed brought speed and stamina to the toughness of the Northern Horses. Ned had taken the best stallions from the Royal Stables before he left King’s Landing.
Ned envisioned horses that had the toughness of the Northern Horse, the speed and stamina of the Dornish Sand Steeds, and the bloodlines of the stallions Ned had taken from the Royal Stable the day he left King’s Landing.
House Ryswell breeds the best horses in the North, and House Tolane breeds the best sand steeds in Dorne. A marriage between the two houses was best for both the North and Dorne. Ned had gently suggested a match between the two houses to Lord Rodrik Ryswell.
Ned had no clue whether Rodrik Ryswell had taken Ned’s advice about a match between his eldest son and heir, Roger, and the eldest daughter of Lady Nymella Toland, Lady of Ghost Hill’s daughter, Valena Toland.
Ned's mind was awash with schemes and plans to strengthen the North and to help Aelyx when the time came for him to press his claim for the Iron Throne.
“My Lord. House Flint banners have been seen on the road. There, a couple of miles away,” Jory Cassell appeared in the doorway of Ned’s Solar.
“Thank you, Jory. Would you inform my wife that they are close?”
"Yes, Lord Stark.” Jory bowed his head before departing.
Jon sat with Rodrik on Rodrik Stallion. The young lad had started to learn how to ride. He was big for a boy of his age of two name days. Perhaps he would inherit the House Flint tallness.
"Father, is that Grandfather Rodrik? He looks like a giant,” Robb asked, looking at the man who seemed to be as tall as a giant. Ned had had similar thoughts when he’d been a child, meeting his grandfather for the first time.
“The Flints are known to be the tallest of all Northern Houses, even the Umbers.”
“Is that Ser Arthur Dayne, Father.”Robb excitedly pointed out the Sword of the Morning, dressed more like a Northern than a Southern knight.
“Aye, that’s him, Robb, and the man beside him is Ser Oswell Whent.” Ned pointed out the knight, sometimes referred to as the Bat. “There’s your cousin.”
“That’s Jon”
“Aye, that’s Jon,” Ned answered as Rodrik set Jon down on his feet.
“Lord Flint, welcome to Winterfell." Ned had to crane his neck up to look at his grandfather, who stood 7 and a half feet tall.
“Lord Stark, it’s good to be here. Oh, and who’s this?" Rodrik kneeled to Robb’s height.
“This Lord Flint is your great-grandson, Robb Stark. Robb, this is your great-grandfather, Lord Rodrik Flint of Breakstone Hill. Say hello, son.” Ned gave his son a nudge.
“It’s good to meet you, Great Grandfather," Robb answered shyly.
“And you, grandson.”
"Mother, you look well.” Ned embraced Lyarra.
“I looked tired, you mean, Eddard. You must be Robb. You were but a babe when I saw you last” Lyarra turned to her other grandson.
"Hello, grandmother,” Robb answered, not so shy around Lyarra as he was with Rodrik.
“Good mother, you look well,” Catelyn appeared. Lyarra had never liked her good daughter when she first met her, and she still didn’t like her. But she would be civil, for Ned’s sake.
“Good Daughter. You look in fine health. Where are my granddaughters?”
“Resting. I put them down to rest not long ago,” Catelyn answered her good mother.
“Hmm. Good daughter, this is my father, Lord Rodrik Flint of Breakstone Hill. Father, this is Ned’s wife, Lady Catelyn Tully Stark." Lyarra made the introduction.
“Lord Flint.”
“Lady Stark” Rodrik looked Catelyn up and down for a moment or two.
“I’ve had rooms made up for you.” Ned tried to break the tension between his wife and his grandfather.
“Uncle Ned,” Jon said.
“Yes, Jon,” Ned asked his nephew.
"Uncle, can I and Robb go play?”
“Of course you can. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell will stay with you,” Ned answered Jon.
While Jon and Robb ran amuck under the watchful eye of Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent, Lyarra, and Rodrik met with Ned in his solar.
“Have you heard from Benjen or Lord Commander Hightower?” Ned asked.
“We had word from Benjen that they arrived in Pentos, and not much after that. Benjen's letter was cryptic in case it was intercepted. They’ve joined up with a man named Ser Richard Lonmouth.
He fled across the Narrow Seas with Ser Willem Darry and Prince Rhaegar, two surviving siblings, Viserys, and the babe born on Dragonstone. Other than that, there has been no word from them yet,” Lyarra answered.
“Are there some problems with you and that wife of yours grandson? I couldn’t help but notice the tension between the two of you.” Rodrik asked gently.
“Catelyn wants a Sept built and a Septa to teach Arya and Sansa when they are older.”
“And what did you say to her?” Lyarra asked this time.
“No to both. This is the North, where we worship the Old Gods. Robb will be taught by Maester Luwin, and the girls will be taught by a woman of the North.”Ned answered, sighing. “How’s Jon doing?”
“He’s a bright boy, smart as a whip, and sharp as a tack. He’s started to learn how to ride. He’s taken to it like a duck to water.”
“He’s his mother’s son then,” Ned smiled, thinking of Lyanna.
"Aye, he is.”
"So, what will you do about Lady Trout?” Lyarra disliked her good daughter.
“Mother. She is my wife and mother of my children.”
“Yes, she is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like her; I will be civil to her for your sake, Ned. What are you going to say to her?” Lyarra countered.
“I will allow a small Sept for her to pray in by no Septa,” Ned answered.
Ned wasn’t avoiding Catelyn; he had been busy with his duties as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Along with spending time with his grandfather, mother, and nephew while they were in Winterfell.
Jon and Robb had hit it off. Becoming good friends as well as cousins. The two of them quickly got up to a lot of mischief. He’s his mother’s son, alright? Ned thought fondly, remembering all the trouble Lyanna, Brandon, himself, and Benjen had gotten up to as children before Ned had gone to the Vale to Foster.
Ned finally had a moment to speak with his wife. Four or five days after Lyarra, Rodrik and Jon arrived.
“My lady, may we speak?” Ned began.
“We may my lord husband, but what about?”
“I have decided you may have a small Sept. But there will be no Septa to raise our daughters,” Ned told Catelyn of his terms.
“You would have them raised like savages instead of ladies,” Catelyn hissed.
“Yes, they are of the North and will be raised as such. Learning of their home will not only be taught by a northern woman but they will also be taught to defend themselves. They, like their brother, will have lessons with Ser Rodrik Cassell.”
“No Lord will have them as a good daughter. A savage who fights like a man,” Catelyn cried.
“They will marry a Lord of the North. Not some Southern-pampered Lord. This is my final word on it, wife." A part of Ned, though perhaps Jon/Aelyx would be a good husband to Arya and Sansa. Targaryens were known to take more than one wife.
The Red Keep, King’s Landing—the Crownlands.
283 AC.
Ser Barristan Semly could count on one hand the number of small council meetings Robert had attended in his two-year reign as king. But Robert was attending this meeting. That day, Jaime Lannister was guarding his queen and sister.
Something about their relationship seemed odd. Jaime Lannister and Queen Cersei, that was. Barristan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was that irked him about their relationship.
The man who now sat upon the Iron Throne did nothing besides drink, eat, and whore himself into an early grave. It was Jon Arryn who ran the Seven Kingdoms. Barristan had no loyalty to the false king.
His loyalty was to the true king hidden deep in the North. He is disguised as the Bastard nephew of Ned Stark. His former brother-in-arms Ser Arthur Dayne, had been the one to tell him the truth.
Oswell and Lord Commander Hightower were guarding the king as well until he came of age. Till then, Ser Barristan kept a close eye on the goings on in King’s Landing. Reporting back to Ned Stark to the going ones of the realm that he knew about.
“You found Targaryen Bastard and his whore sister then,” Robert Baratheon grunted, sipping his wine.
“They're in Braavos. Your Grace. It was not easy, but we found them." The Lord of the Spiders, Lord Varys, answered.
“Make the arrangements; a good Targaryen is a dead Targaryen. I’ve got matters to attend to. Ser Barristan, let’s go." Barristan had to get word to Lord Commander Hightower. He and Benjen Stark were raising an army in the Essos for the King.
Targaryen Encampment, Essos.
283 AC.
Ser Richard Lonmonth, Ser Gerold Hightower, and Benjen had done well gathering men for their cause. They now had two thousand men; it was a start, but they would need far more than that to take back the throne for the king.
The three men sat around a map, planning their next move in gathering more men.
“Commander Hightower. This came from you via Raven." A soldier handed the scroll to Gerold Hightower.
“Thank you,” Gerold said, taking the scroll from the soldier and breaking the seal.
Lord Commander Hightower.
I have grave news that I must share with you. The Usperer and the Spider have discovered where the young prince and princess are with Ser Willem Darry. He is sending an assassin after them.
I pray that this raven reaches you in time and that you get to them before the assassin does.
Ser Barristan Semly
“Good or bad, new Lord Commander.” Ser Richard Lonmonth asked.
“Bad news. The Usurper has discovered where Ser Willem is held up in Braavos with Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys. He has sent someone to kill them.” Gerold told them the contents of the letter from Ser Barristan.
“We need to make haste for Braavos to get to them before this assassin does.”
Braavos, the Free Cities—Essos
283 AC.
The three men had ridden hard for Braavos. Praying they arrived before the assassin did. Their horses were half dead when they arrived in Braavos. Ser Richard Lonmouth led the way to the house with the red door. Where Ser Willem Darry was held up with Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys, and another person.
“We should wait till it’s dark, then go in. Who knows if Vary's spies are watching.”Ser Gerold Hightower looked around the dusty street of Braavos. The house with the red door was on
“We’ll wait till it’s dark.”
Under the cover of darkness. Ser Richard Lonmouth went to the front of the house, while Benjen and Gerold went around the back, climbing over the high walls.
“I’m too bloody old for this,” Gerold grunted as he climbed over the wall.
Richard Lonmouth knocked with three wraps on the red door. He looked around for anyone watching the house or the assassin who had come to kill Ser Willem Darry, Prince Viserys, and Princess Daenerys.
“Stay there, Prince Viserys.”
“Ser Richard, what are you doing here?" Ser Willem Darry answered the door.
“You're in danger. The Usurpers found out where you were. He’s sent an assassin to kill you all.”Richard answered.
“Come in”
There was a knock on the back door of the house. “Who’s that?" Ser Willem pulled his sword from its scabbard.
"Relax, Ser Willem, their friends.” Richard moved to the back door, allowing Gerold and Benjen into the house.
“Lord Commander Hightower,” Ser Willem relaxed seeing the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
“Ser Willem. There’s no time for small talk; we’ve come to get you away from here before the assassin arrives.”
“Ser Willem, what is going on? Viserys said there were strangers here." Both Ser Gerold and Benjen’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the sight of a very much alive. Rhaella Targaryen.
“My Queen. I thought you were dead." Ser Gerold stepped back in shock.
“I very well nearly did die the night Daenerys was born Lord Commander. Why are you here with Ser Richard and Ned Stark’s brother?”
“The Usuper has sent assassins to kill Ser Willem, Prince Viserys, and Princess Daenerys. Ser Barristan Semly altered us to the attempt on their lives. The reason why Benjen Stark is with us. We can speak of this later when we are safely away from here.” The White Bull answered.
The seven of them fled into the night. They covered their tracks as they fled, heading for the Targaryen Encampment. Once they had safely arrived, Gerold would tell the Queen of the Grandsons she had hidden in the North.
“You said you would explain why you were here with Benjen Stark, Lord Commander,” Queen Rhaella questioned.
“Benjen Stark is family by the blood of your grandson, born to Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar. He, Elia, and Lyanna met and fell in love at Harrenhal; they wed in secret on the Isle of Faces.
Myself, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Arthur Dayne were witnesses. Prince Rhaegar ordered us to take Lyanna south to Dorne for her own protection. The plan was for Princess Elia, Rhaenys, and Prince Aegon to join her in Dorne.
But that never happened, as the Mad King kept them as hostages. After word reached us of what happened to Princess Elia and your grandchildren, Princess Lyanna went into labor, but for what reason? Whether it was due to a loss of blood or the babe being too big, I don't know.
She got an infection, dying of a birthing fever. Before she died, she gave Prince Aelyx to Lord Stark, asking him to protect him from Robert Baratheon. He’s in the North with his family. Under the alias of Jon Flint, the world thinks he’s the legitimized bastard son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne.
Benjen and I came to raise an army for Prince Aelyx when the time came for him to press his claim.” Gerold finished explaining.
“What does my grandson look like?”
“He takes mostly after his mother, but there is a lot of Prince Rhaegar in him, my queen." The White Bull answered.
“What does Lord Stark plan to do with Aelyx?”
“Ned plans to put Aelyx on the throne, my Queen.”Queen Rhaella was still a striking woman of thirty-and-seven name days.
“There is something else you should know, my queen. It seems dragons have returned to the world.”
"Dragons.” Rhaella looked at them in surprise.
“Yes, my queen. Prince Rhaegar left an egg for Prince Aelyx. It hatched in his crib. The egg was given to Prince Rhaegar by your great-uncle Maester Aemon.”
“My great uncle is still at the wall,” Rhaella asked.
“No, he was released from his vows by the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He’s at Breakstone Hill with Prince Aelyx.” Gerold answered his queen.
“Breakstone Hill, not Winterfell.”
“He’s in the care of his grandmother, Lady Lyarra Flint-Stark, and her father, Lord Rodrik Flint,” Benjen answered this time.
Winterfell, the North
283 AC.
Rodrik, Lyarra, and Jon’s visit to Winterfell was coming to a close; they were leaving to head back north to Breakstone Hill that day.
“Jon I have a gift for you. All lords need a good horse. She was your aunt’s horse. I think she would want you to have her.” Ned nodded as a stablehand came leading Winter Lyanna’s faithful mare.
“Is she truly mine, Uncle?” Jon looked to Ned as he patted Winter’s nose.
“Aye, truly, she is your Jon.” Ned smiled at him.
“Thank you, Uncle Ned.” Jon hugged Ned tightly.
“Here we go, little wolf." Rodrik left Jon on the back of his mare.
Ned said his goodbyes to his mother and grandfather. Both promised to come back to visit. Jon truly had been born in the saddle. Rodrik led the mare with a lead rope.
Val. 
Lyanna's mare Winter.
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