Chapter Text
Barristan
It was past four o'clock at the welcoming feast in honor of the king and his family's arrival at Winterfell.
Under the vaults of Winterfell's spacious hall, whose gray stone walls were hung with banners: the Stark direwolf stood next to the crowned stag of the Baratheons and the golden lion of the Lannisters. A haze drifted everywhere, the smell of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, and ale and wine flowed freely.
King Robert, already quite drunk, pulled a plump serving girl onto his lap, who giggled in return.
And Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Barristan Selmy, who was currently standing slightly behind the king, was glad to be wearing a helmet that hid his disapproving expression.
The same couldn't be said for Queen Cersei, whose green eyes betrayed clear contempt and disgust as she glanced at her husband.
As for the rest of the royal family, the heir to the throne, Prince Joffrey, sat next to Lord Eddard Stark's eldest daughter, who was happily asking him questions.
He also saw Princess Mercella and Prince Tommen sitting and chatting with Brandon Stark.
Clearly discussing something among themselves.
Barristan grinned as he watched them.
Unlike Prince Joffrey, who, under his mother's influence, had grown up, to put it mildly, a rather spoiled and cruel child.
The princess and the youngest prince were growing up to be quite good and kind children.
And Barristan hoped it would remain so.
He glanced around the hall again, searching for any possible threat to the king, who had already reached under the maid's skirts, causing her to giggle even more.
It's good that no one noticed this, well, at least not yet. thought Barristan, trying not to pay attention to the behavior of his king.
He was a member of the Kingsguard, and his first duty was to protect the king, not to judge him.
While Robert Baratheon was a fine man and a remarkable warrior and commander, he was, to put it mildly, a lousy king.
During the last sixteen years of Robert's reign, the king attended only twenty small council meetings, perhaps even less.
The affairs of the kingdom were primarily handled by Jon Arryn, now deceased, so, strictly speaking,
The royal family had traveled all the way from King's Landing all the way here to Winterfell, in the heart of the north.
So that Robert Baratheon could personally offer the position of Hand to his longtime friend, Lord Eddard Stark.
Who had not yet made a decision on the matter, though if the Lord of Winterfell did accept the king's offer, Barristan could only wish him patience and good luck in the position.
He'd need it...
Half an hour later, Ser Meryn Trant finally arrived to relieve him on guard duty, which Barristan was overjoyed about.
Bowing to the king, who was completely absorbed in his servant, he headed for the exit of the Great Hall.
Actually, he wasn't supposed to go North in the first place.
Originally, three Kingsguard were supposed to accompany the king and his family: Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Boros Blount, and the queen's twin, Ser Jaime Lannister.
But at the last moment, Robert refused to take Lannister with him, leaving him in the capital, citing, as he said...
"I want to at least get some rest in the north, away from those damned blonds, especially since my wife and her dwarf brother will be there anyway!"
Stepping out of the great hall into the cool northern night air, Barristan noticed the queen's aforementioned younger brother standing and discussing something with a dark-haired youth.
"Ah, Ser Barristan," Tyrion greeted him when he noticed him.
"Lord Tyrion," he nodded back.
He glanced at the young man, frozen for a second in surprise; for a moment, the boy's features seemed very familiar.
Blinking, pushing these thoughts away, Barristan looked again at the boy before him,
Whose gray eyes stared wide at him.
"Ser Barristan Selmy?" the boy asked, his voice filled with awe.
He nodded his head in confirmation. "And who do I have the honor of speaking with?"
"I... I..."
"That's Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard," Tyrion Lannister interrupted the young man.
This earned the young man a sullen look.
"Fine, I'll go warm up in the great hall, I don't want to freeze myself," Tyrion muttered, not noticing nothing, heading toward the great hall, leaving Barristan and the young man alone.
Barristan glanced again at the young man, who was rather thin but tall, with dark curly hair and steely eyes, the same as Lord Eddard's.
And at first glance, the boy did indeed look like a Stark, even more so than Lord Stark's legitimate children.
But the young man also had traits he simply couldn't and shouldn't have.
And he saw it—those cheekbones, the shape of the nose, and the shape of the eyes—all unmistakably belonged to the dynasty to which Barristan had sworn allegiance and served for many years before Robert claimed the throne for himself.
"Sorry to disturb you," the young man muttered under his breath, bowing to him before turning away and striding off into the courtyard.
Barristan himself, still in shock, watched the young man go.
"It can't be, can it? It simply can't be," he muttered quietly.
"It simply can't be."
Eddard
Lord Eddard was alarmed as he sat in his solar, reading reports from Wyon and Leuven on how much the King and his family's visit had cost Winterfell.
He tried to get as much work done as possible while he was here, to make it a little easier for Robb to assume his role as Lord of Winterfell,
While Ned himself would be in the south as the new Hand of the King.
Who, apparently, didn't care about anything around him except wine and whores.
In fact, that was exactly what Robert had told him back in the crypts.
"I don't grant you mercy, Ned. I want you to rule in my place while wine and whores drive me to the grave!"
Ned put one of the reports aside and leaned back in his chair, thinking about what his friend had become in these sixteen years.
Instead of the muscular, dark-haired youth with blue eyes that sparkled with joy. He was a huge, fat, and clumsy boar.
To be honest, Ned seriously considered turning down the position offered to him and staying here in the north near his family.
But the news he received two weeks ago from Lysa Arryn, his wife's younger sister and Jon Arryn's widow, made him change his mind.
After all, what she reported was, to put it mildly, very alarming.
The message stated that House Lannister was involved in Jon Arryn's death and that King Robert was also threatened with the same fate.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his gloomy thoughts.
He ordered them in. And was surprised to find that it was none other than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
"Ser Barristan," Ned said in surprise, honestly not expecting to see him.
"Lord Hand," Selmy greeted him, bowing his head. "May I speak with you, if you permit?"
Ned nodded and motioned for him to sit in the seat opposite him.
"So, Ser Barristan, what did you wish to discuss with me?" he asked the knight.
"I would like to discuss your son's fate, if you permit, my lord," Bold said.
"Bran?" Ned asked, raising an eyebrow.
He genuinely expected the conversation to be about his middle son, who was supposed to accompany him and his daughters to King's Landing in a few days.
The knight merely shook his head.
"No, it's not about him, my lord," Barristan told him. "I wished to speak with you about your bastard son."
At the knight's words, Ned felt a lump form in his throat.
No! No! No! It can't be! Did he really recognize the boy's features? A treacherous thought flashed through his mind.
But he tried his best not to show it, keeping his face as stony as a mask.
"You wish to speak of Jon?" Ned asked, finding his voice.
The knight nodded slightly.
"Yes, my lord, if you please, I have been observing the boy for some time, and I must tell you he is quite a skilled swordsman for his age. So, if you don't mind, I would offer him the chance to become my squire," Ser Barristan replied.