Chapter 15

  BEARK

  The castle had not ged mu the years he had been away. The children had grown up so much sihe st time he had seehe Royal family sat oage as well, all of them except the Queen, who was spicuously absent.

  "So, the rumors are true?" he asked his brother, whose hair now had hints of white.

  "Whies?" his brother asked as Benjen poioward his brother's sed son, who now sat beside the young blonde Princess.

  Ned realized what he was alluding to and nodded with a sigh.

  "I am afraid so," his brother replied, and it was truly a marvel: his brother being the Hand of the King and his nephew marrying the Princess. Truly, winter was ing, and in ways more than one.

  For while, the rest of the realm pyed their little games here, down in the South, cold winds brewed North of the Wall, winds that made grown men shiver in their cloaks.

  Winds tinged with the smell of death itself.

  "Tell me of the boy?" Ned asked as he looked him in the eye. His brother's face was burdened with worry, and Benjen could see his shoulders were tense.

  There was o mention which boy he spoke of.

  "He was a brave young man. A true ranger, I knew him myself," Benjen added, and a part of him was tempted to share his fears with him, share with him the dread of what he thought lingered irue North.

  Yet he could not. Not until he had proof. Not until he was sure.

  His mistake had already cost his family many years ago, and Benjen would not repeat it again.

  "A, he spoke of madness on the log," Ned whispered as he looked into the pyre, and the songs grew louder behind them.

  "How his friends had all been killed by Whitewalkers," his brother scoffed, and Benjen did not doubt the boy. Yet his brother did, and so held his tongue.

  "Perhaps he really was mad," he whispered as he sipped his own ale ahe warmth spread through his belly.

  "A wildling raid, probably and nothing more," Ned cluded, and he did not correct him.

  "Jon just asked me to take him to the Wall when I leave," and he saw his brother perk up at the mention of that boy—of her boy.

  And it loathed him that her son was reduced to living as a bastard in these Halls, but hate it all he may. He knew full well that it erhaps the only reason the boy was still alive.

  "He is...."

  "Your other son put it down rather forcefully," he answered with a smile, and it warmed his heart seeing it. That despite knowing him to be a bastard, Cregan had stood up for his brother like that.

  "Cregan, did?" Eddard asked, looking towards the boy who was helping the Princess pet a small direwolf, something that made him still.

  "Yes, he is a good d, that boy," he added, and Ned nodded.

  "That he is," and then his brother turowards him once more.

  "A yoing to wed him into the South," Benjen pined, and Eddard's lips thinned.

  "My hands are tied" was the same as years ago. His brother could never really deny Robert, not even for his family—for his blood.

  "You must have e here for new recruits," Benjen nodded.

  "Yes, and I was hoping to talk to the King, hoping that he would listen to the plights of the Watd lend us some aid," for they were in desperate need of it.

  "Well, you try, I don't know how much help the give to the Watch," his brother mented.

  "What do you mean by that?" Benjeioned sharply, taken aback by those words.

  "It's nothing. I have just e to learn that the 's coffers are not as healthy as one would think," and that was a surprise, especially given just who Robert's st hand was, for Benjen did not particurly like the old Lord of the Vale, but he knew him to be petent lord.

  "Regardless, I don't think he is in any state to listen to your request right now," and indeed, any sign of sobriety had vanished from the King, who enly groping a serving girl while pushing down goblet after goblet of wine.

  "I have some recruits for you down in the dungeon, though you might also be joined by the Queen's brother on the journey back," and his eyes nded on the only Lannister present oable.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Because the man wishes to see one of the great Wonders of the world," and Benjen scoffed at the Southern lord's desire.

  "Let's see if I ot dissuade the man from this idiocy," and with that, he gave Eddard a nod.

  "I o rest."

  "A room has been prepared for you," and it would be good to sleep in the warmth of these walls again. Just as he was about to leave, his brother called him out.

  "And Cregan brought back a gift for you as well. He hasn't shown it to me. I will ask the boy t it to you," and he nodded.

  "There was no need for that,"

  "He knows that. But he brought something for everyone," Ned answered.

  "Even Jon?" he asked, and Ned nodded.

  "Even Jon...."

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  CREGAN STARK

  The feast ended ho, and now the castle was all ready to fall asleep, yet unlike everyone else, Cregan's heart raced as he walked towards the yard with Jon, who was eyeing him rather worriedly.

  "Why did you ask to meet the bard?" Joioned, and he wo himself. But he had a gamble to py. Now that he had decided to ge things, that he had decided to challehe man iree, he had to use all the pieces he could.

  And one of them was this man, and the bard was nothing special. His fad tunes were mediocre as he stood there nervously uhe watchful eyes of the castle guards Jon had procured.

  "I just wao talk to him," he answered as he motioned for Jon to stop.

  "Do you have your bde with you?" he asked and Jon nodded, but a bit taken aback by that question.

  "Let us hope you need not use it," and with that, he stopped Jon as he walked forward as the bard's eyes finally nded on him, and he bowed immediately.

  "Young master, if I have done anything to offend you, I seek your fiveness..."

  "You have not," Cregan cut in, as he turowards Jory.

  "Leave us. I wish to talk to him alone," and while he was young, he was still the son of their liege lord. And so, they did as they were ordered a him aloh the harmless-looking bard as Crega his hands grow cmmy with sweat.

  He could still stop. Call it a misuanding and turn away. Yet he did not, as he stared the man in the eye.

  "Bael," he whispered as the bard's eyes narrowed as he clutched his coat nervously.

  "How iing that you would choose that name?" he ented as he saw those pupils dite and those ears perk up as he tinued.

  "To think that years ter, another bard would enter Winterfell with that same o think that that blood of that bard runs through my veins and the rest of the Starks. It is rather fasating, don't you think," and now any hints of nervousness vanished from those eyes as the bard, of middli, looked him in the eye and questioned.

  "How do you know of that tale?" he questioned, and indeed how did he know? He knew of it before because he had searched and found it again, written in the old tongue in a decrepit lord's diary.

  The tale of 'Bael the Bard', a King beyond the Wall who had e to Winterfell dressed as a bard and had run away with the daughter of the Starks, and ter on, through war and other circumstahe Starks would see their line nearing its end, until the long-lost daughter of the Starks would return to the castle, carrying with her the boy who would then bee the Lord of the House.

  "Does it really matter how I know? Or rather what I know?" Cregan challenged calmly, even as his heart hammered in his chest, yet his face remaiionless as he pinned down the man opposite to him with his grey, ominous eyes.

  "So, you are one of those," he whispered, and Cregan did not correct him as he reached into his pocket.

  "I know who you really are, Bael," Cregan whispered.

  "I hardly doubt that. But do they all know who you really are, boy?" the maioned, and Cregan shrugged.

  "I am Cregan Stark, the son of Eddard Stark," he answered, and the man raised a brow.

  "Is that so?"

  "Why have you called for me?" he asked, and Cregan picked up a little piece of obsidian he had brought from the South, having found it in Dragonstone when he visited the isnd o the King's request.

  "To tell you that war would be the end of us all," and he could not have the wildlings looking to war with the Watot when they faced so many threats from the South.

  The man caught the little piece of obsidian he had thrown and frow his words.

  "That if we are all to survive this wihen you shall o make peace. You will need allies, and that. A lot of that," he added, making the man frown.

  "Obsidian," he realized as Cregan nodded.

  "The North has bits of it in the mountains, but I refuse to believe that it is all there is of it. Search for it out there, in the cold for it while some call it obsidian, it has another name just like you have a her than 'Bael,'" he tinued.

  "Fire frozen," he replied, seeing the man's eyes widen.

  "Why tell me this?" he asked, and ihat was the major question.

  "Because winter is ing," and the man smirked as Cregan gave him a nod and turned away from him, his heart still hammering in his chest.

  "I will think on it," the man voiced back, as Cregan just nodded.

  "I wish you well, Bael the Bard," Cregan answered before he lowered his tone and whispered the real name of the man.

  "Or should I call you Mance Rayder, yrace," and the man perked up at that as his eyes narrowed.

  "Go baow. You have until tonight to leave the castle. If you are still here by the m, then I won't be responsible for what bees of you," he warhe man nodded and bowed to him. Cregan turned his ba and walked towards Jory and his friend.

  "What did you want to talk to the man about?" Jory asked, and Cregan smiled.

  "I just wished to ask him about his songs and his tunes. I found them rather unique," and Jory frowned.

  "Then why did you call us?" he pined, and Cregan chuckled as he poiowards his e.

  "Because I didn't trust the man. I got robbed once by a singer in the capital, and have been cautious of them ever since," he chuckled as Jory nodded.

  "Are you done?" and Cregan nodded.

  "I am. The man wishes to leave, so let him go. And if he is still here by the m do tell me," and with that he dismissed Jory as Jon joined him on the journey back to his room, his cousin was eyeing him rather suspiciously during the whole journey,

  "Were you really robbed by a bard in the capital?" he asked as they neared his chamber, and Cregan raised a brow.

  "Maybe," he answered as Jon looked him in the eye, their eyes and hair so simir that they looked more like brothers than he and Robb ever did.

  "What did you really say to the bard?" he questioned, and he was sharp. Being a bastard, his circumstances growing up had allowed him to be more observant than Robb and the rest, and so his lie with Jory had not worked with him.

  "Nothing important," he replied, and Jon had enough tact to back off when he realsied that he did not wish to share it with him, and as he opehe door and was about to walk in, he called out to him once more.

  "Back there, in the Dining Hall," Jon began as Cregan turo face Jon, who was looking at him intensely with balled-up fists.

  "Did you really mean it?" he asked, and it took him a sed to recall what he was alluding to.

  "Yes, I did," he answered.

  "You are my blood, mine, Robb's, Sansa's, Arya's, Bran's, and Ri's as well. You belong with us, no matter what others may say or whisper, including mother. " Cregahe main motivation behind Jon's desire to go to the Wall.

  And it was a risk keeping him here, a was necessary. When Cregan had no iion of letting things go as they had, then it was better to have Jon beside them. With them.

  "The Wall is going nowhere. It has stood for a thousand years and might stand for a thousand more," he really did hope that.

  "You go there when you are old, tired, and spent and have at least a dozen children," and Jon's lips turned up at his jape.

  "But if you talk about doing it before then, I will hit you on the head with my e. And I am sure Robb will do the same, but with a different on," and there were tears in his eyes, which he wiped away as he questioned.

  "But what future do I have here, with you all?"

  "A bright one," Cregan cut in.

  "You are young. We all are. You will figure something out," Cregan whispered as he spped him in the shoulder.

  "And if we fail, I will always need a man to protect poor old me," he added with a shrug. He gave his cousin a wink while tapping his leg with his e.

  "After all, to the world, I am not so different than a bastard because of my leg..."

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  /Drkest

  Have a nice day!

  PS: To those who do not know. Mance Rayder attehe feast at Winterfell dressed as a bard inspired by the tale of "Bael the Bard" from a thousand years ago, who did the same and stole the daughter of then Lord Stark.

  Later all of the Stark children died, and so that daughter returo Winterfell and her children tihe main Stark line, so in a way all Stark children have Free Fold blood in them because of her, and bael the Bard (Who was a King Beyond the Wall as well)