The Crippled Wolf: Stark SI (GOT)

Chapter 11

EDDARD STARK

The King's retinue was set to arrive any second now as the whole of Winterfell gathered in the yard for the welcome. There was excitement in the air, the guards, the people, everyone seemed rather excited to have the King of the land gracing them with his presence.

His wife and children seemed excited as well, except for one of them. Cregan's eyes were steeled as he continued to look at him as if asking him to see it for himself.

See the truth for himself.

And as the herald sounded the horns, he heard it the sound of a horse's hoofs thumping on the ground before he saw it as well, as a warhorse rode into the yard, a carriage lingering behind it as they bent their knee at his following.

The Black Horse came to a halt in the center of the yard as Eddard knelt on one knee and saw stools being placed beside it. As he saw leather boots jump off the horse and onto the steps before they came upon him right above him.

He saw a hand beckoning him to stand up, and as he did, he found himself looking into the blue eyes of Robert Baratheon, a much older and much fatter Robert Baratheon. The whole court followed him, their lord, and rose up as well while Robert looked him down before speaking up.

"You have grown fat," and Eddard heard a few chuckles from behind as he found himself staring at his friend's own protruding belly as he raised a brow. And that was answer enough as he saw Robert's lips turn up as they both began to chuckle as the man wrapped his arms around him.

"Ned!" he hugged him as a brother, and he felt some of the tension leave him as he realised that despite the years, his friend had not changed. And perhaps that was even more damning as he saw the carriage doors open as the Queen walked out of the carriage, led by none other than her own brother.

"Cat!" Robert moved on and hugged Catelyn, like a long-lost sister, as he ruffled Rickon's hair before coming to face him once more as the tension left the yard.

"Nine years, Ned. Nine years where have you been all this time?" Robert questioned as Eddard looked towards his friend once again, his eyes catching but a glimpse of the younger Prince and Princess.

"Guarding the North for you, your grace," Robert scoffed.

"We shall see about that," as he moved forward to his right, where Robb stood, followed by the rest of his children.

"You must be Robb," he shook hands with his eldest before he praised Sansa, who stood beside him, for Cregan was the only one who could reign in Arya, and as Robert greeted his children, he found himself face to face with the Queen.

"Your grace," Catelyn gave a small bow as the Lannister woman put forward her hand, giving him a stiff smile as Eddard knelt and gave her a chaste kiss on her hand.

"Your grace," and she smiled.

"Lord Stark," she greeted as his eyes moved beyond her to the three children, and a chill cut through his heart. Their faces, their eyes all Lannister as he had heard.

As he had feared.

"You are the same as ever, huh boy," Robert's voice came from the side as his friend stood face to face with his second son, Cregan.

"Not even your family can make you smile. You truly do carry wolf blood in you," he said as he slapped him on the shoulder before moving on as Eddard's eyes moved back to the eldest Prince, and in a second, he saw it.

Jealousy. Envy. And Lannister blood, all of it, and yet he did not wish to believe it. He could not, as he heard a small whisper from the side.

"Where is the I..." but the word was left unsaid as he heard Arya hiss in pain.

"What did I warn you about?" Cregan's chastisement followed soon after as Robert's voice boomed through the yard.

"Come, Ned, I wish to pay my respects, and a hush fell over the yard at those words, and the Queen's face stiffened for all knew whom it was that Robert wished to pay his respect to," and as Eddard turned towards his King and friend, the Queen's voice rang out.

"We have been riding for months. I am sure that the dead can wait," she cut in sharply, and yet Robert did not spare her a glance, turning towards him as he ordered once more before he began moving once more.

"Ned!" he called out again, ignoring and insulting her as Eddard could do little more than follow suit. Yet as he walked, his mind and heart raced as the faces of the three Royal children continued to flash in his mind.

And with a final glance, he followed suit as he saw the Prince coming to greet his children, moving on from Sansa to Cregan, whom he eyed with disdain before he moved on as Eddard found himself at a much troubling cross-road.

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ROBERT BARATHEON

Robert Baratheon cursed the cruelty of the Gods once more as he stood face-to-face with her statue. He found it dull and rather misplaced, for nothing could do her justice—no mason, no God.

"Did you have to bury her here?" for he knew that she would hate it here in this damp place. She liked freedom and would have hated this boorish place.

"She should be on a hill somewhere, with the Sun shining down on her," as it would on a flower, on the Winter Rose, which was cut into her hair.

"She was my sister. This was where she belonged," Ned answered, and that was a lie. An absolute lie.

"She belonged with me," he thundered, yet she was taken from him. The very thing he had fought for. He had won a throne, gold, and a Lannister wife, and yet he would not hesitate to give it all up for her. For not even a second.

"Tell me about Jon, Arryn?" Ned's voice came from the side, and Robert felt a pang of regret and sadness hit him. He had loved that man; he was amongst his only family left. And his death had left him both alone and vulnerable. For all his faults, Robert Baratheon was not blind, especially to his faults. He knew that he had little to no interest in the art of copper counting and ruling.

Neither was he suited to it all. His interest lay in cracking skulls and bedding whores.

"Your boy should have told you," he asked. He had those eyes. Same as Jon, intelligent eyes, eyes that held wisdom in them. He had had that gaze as a child, even when he had come to the capital, and given he had managed to survive and thrive for as long as he had, that the boy was no idiot.

"He did, but I wish to hear from you as well," and Robert chuckled.

"The boy's accounts would be more valuable than mine own. He was far closer to Jon than I was. I had barely gotten sober, but by then, he was long gone; the fever had burnt right through him in but a single night," and tragic that it was, that man's death.

And now, with him gone, he needed someone else by his side. Someone else to rule the realm and help him set things straight for the future. Especially given how hopeless his own successor was.

"I need you, Ned," he said as he turned to face the man he thought of as a brother, a true brother unlike both Stannis and Renly, who had never truly cared for him.

"With me in the capital, not here where you are of no bloody use to anyone," he said as Ned's lips thinned, as Robert carried on, wasting no time in doling out the very order he had come to deliver all this way.

"You helped me win the throne, now help me keep it," he spoke as his friend's eyes widened.

"Eddard Stark, I would name your hand of the King," he spoke graciously, as a King would, the honorable fool that he was knelt down.

"I do not deserve that honor," and he chuckled.

"I am not trying to honor you, Ned," he spoke as he helped him up.

"Stand," he ordered as his old friend rose up to his feet.

"I am trying to get you to run my kingdom while I drink and whore myself to an early grave," but he hoped not. He hoped to die fighting. He had dreamt of it. Dying while fighting a battle unlike any other. Going out while swinging his Warhammer.

"I am needed here, in the North," and he knew a thousand men who would burn their daughters for the honor his friend was trying to reject. They would burn their wives and daughters for it, all those honorless curs, if only that would make them the Hand of the King.

But not Ned.

"You are needed there, in the capital," he spoke sharply, a bit frustrated by this hand-wringing.

"You should curse the Gods for taking Jon Arryn from us," he spoke as he turned towards her statue, and then his gaze moved to the one beside it, the one of his father.

"If only the man had managed to live another decade, maybe even half of that, then I could have named someone else in your stead," and Ned seemed surprised by those words.

"Your boy, Cregan. He has the mind for it. Jon spoke well of him. Quiet he may be, but Jon said that the boy had the makings of a good lord and an even better Hand," and in his own eyes, the old man was a good judge of character.

But the boy was too young, and the realm too fractured. He failed in one of his hopes when he called the boy to the capital to foster, trying to build a comradeship between Ned's child and his own.

Another kind of kinship had been fostered, much to the dismay of his own lady wife. One between that boy and his own daughter, and while it was not what he had hoped for. It was good enough, for the boy was young and with years to learn, he would make for the perfect successor to his own father and could help his own son, Joffrey, rule over the Seven Kingdoms, as Jon and Ned had done so for him.

"Cregan has little interest in politics," and he doubted that.

"But the boy has a mind for it," he cut in as Eddard's lips thinned.

"We were meant to rule together, you and I," he spoke warmly as his eyes landed on her face again, and her face was so full of life in his dreams.

"And if she had not died, then we would have been bound by blood," and both he and the realm would have been better for it. Now, he may be King, but he was miserable without her.

"But we still have time; we both have children of our own, and it is not too late to for a possible match," and he saw Ned's eyes widen at his words.

"A match for the future. One that would strengthen the realm" and earn him much ire from his own lady wife.

"Cregan shall wed my daughter Myrcella," he announced as Ned's eyes widened.

"He is a second son, Robert. This is too m...."

"I am not asking them to wed today," Robert cut in sharply as he saw his friend's lips thinned.

"She is too young for now. But perhaps in a few years, they would wed, and the realm would be stronger for it. And then, if the Gods are merciful, you could one day come back to these lands and leave it all in your boy's hand," Robert laughed as he imagined Ned getting frustrated by all the politics and leaving it all to his son as he did to Jon and now him.

"Cheer up, you fool. I have given it much thought, and this is the best for the realm. That boy is much like you, and he would take care of that girl and her brother. He is a Stark, and I would much rather trust my own daughter with a Stark than some southern prick like me," because, as always, Robert was aware of his faults.

As King. As a father. And as a husband.

"Let me talk to the boy," Eddard spoke, and he shook his head.

"Talk to him as much as you want, but my mind is made. My girl likes the boy enough, and so do I. They will wed when she becomes a woman. Until then, the boy shall continue to foster with me and learn what it means to rule the realm," he commanded.

"Though you will have to do the teaching. Seven know ,I am not well suited for that," he chuckled as he walked out of the crypts, a happier man, a better King, and most importantly, a content father in his head.

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