Torrhen Stark - The Black Wolf

Torrhen's jaw tightened as he listened to his father speak to the girl with a babe in her hands.

He was angry for more than a single reason. The Starks with the Pack and a few guards should have been already on their way home. They were supposed to have left King's Landing on a ship that would have taken them to White Harbor.

Instead Ned and Torrhen Stark with a few guards and Winter were visiting the brothel run by Chataya, all because of Petyr Baelish. Torrhen had tried to convince his father to let it be but he would not budge on it, he delayed the departure so that he could find whatever reason Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon visited Chataya's together. Two of the most unlikely people to ever visit a place such as a brothel.

Littlefinger's timing was suspect. He had found the brothel that Ned was searching for just as they were about to leave. Torrhen had kept an eye on Littlefinger the entire way, and all he gave back was that harmless thin lipped smile that looked anything but harmless.

Some of the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. He had heard about such things before. But never in person had he seen a girl so young, that it boiled Torrhen's blood in rage towards Robert more than ever before.

She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she slipped free a breast to give her nipple to the babe. "I named her Barra," she said as the child nursed. "She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair …"

"She does." Ned touched the baby's fine, dark hair.

Torrhen had visited the Vale once a few years ago. He had seen Robert's rumored firstborn, a girl named Mya Stone who had guided him to the top of the Eyrie on mules, and she also had the same fine black hair, he seemed to recall.

"Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it … as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is."

"I will," Ned promised her.

"And tell him I've not been with no one else. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new. Chataya said I could have half a year, for the baby, and for hoping he'd come back. So you'll tell him I'm waiting, won't you? I don't want no jewels or nothing, just him. He was always good to me, truly."

Good to you, Torrhen thought hollowly.

"I will tell him, child," Ned said, "and I promise you, Barra shall not go wanting."

His father would tell Robert definitely as he promised the girl. Ned Stark would keep his vows, always. But what good will it do, Robert would soon forget a moment later.

To think that a man like Robert had been once betrothed to aunt Lyanna. If there was a chance that aunt Lyanna had known about Robert's true nature, it would not be too much of a leap to assume that a woman as fierce as his father recalled her to be, to have run away with Prince Rhaegar rather than be married to a man like Robert.

Did Rhaegar ever visit brothels? Torrhen thought. According to the stories he had heard in his journeys, Rhaegar had been well loved by the people and was still fondly remembered to this day. The only blemish was that for some reason aunt Lyanna was abducted by Rhaegar, an entire rebellion was triggered by this abduction and led to the entire Targaryen dynasty's downfall.

Come to think of it, his father had never spoken a bad word of Rhaegar to Torrhen or his siblings.

There must be more to the story but Ned seldom spoke of those times to his children. Torrhen had sensed always when he was younger that his father greatly missed his family that had died during the rebellion. Lyanna, especially. He would sometimes smile when he spoke of her, her wild nature, training with the sword, riding a horse and her love for blue flowers.

The girl smiled then, a smile so tremulous and sweet that it cut the heart out of him.

Ned left the room but Torrhen stayed back. Sometimes a person must know the truth even if it will hurt them. He doubted anyone would tell the truth to the girl before she would have learned of it in time, when it would be too late to do anything to save themselves. None would do so, especially Chataya, when she may stand to gain something, even with the slightest chance that the King would come back for his bastard daughter. So he had to be the one to break the girl's heart so that she was better prepared for whatever may come.

For winter is coming.

When he approached the girl, he saw that her bosom was freckled as well. "Robert will never come, girl."

She began to speak with concern on her face, "But…"

Torrhen crushed that false hope. "He will never come, even to see his bastard daughter. He will never care for you nor the babe. No doubt, he already has slept with countless other prostitutes and has already forgotten about you after the first or second one after you."

"Barra, at least for his daughter…" The girl cried as she looked in uncertainty at the babe suckling at her breast. The smile she had when she spoke of her daughter, long gone.

Torrhen knelt in front of her and took her hand. He checked the room once more, they were still alone. He said in a low voice, "If you truly love and care for your Barra, you will leave Kingslanding as soon as possible. You have already received too much attention from the King's own brother and two of his Hands, for me to have some concern for your's and the babe's future. Lords and Ladies can sometimes be as cruel as to kill even a child for the sake of their intrigues at court. They do not care much for the lives of smallfolk such as your Barra. So it is not safe for you or the babe here. We found you, so it would not be so hard for those whose intent is to harm you to send someone to kill you."

The girl was now afraid for her and her babe's life.

He placed a pouch, filled with Golden Dragons into her hand. All the wealth he had in his hand at the moment, not that he cared much for the coins. "Take this. This will provide for you for a few years if you spend it wisely. Trust no one, and do not tell anyone where you are going, who you are, or who the father of Barra is. Wear a cloak and run away from Chataya's some time after we leave. Take a ship to Braavos today itself, look for purple sails of a Braavosi trading ships.

"And remember what I tell you next very carefully." She nodded eagerly, at the chance of a new life presented to her, away from the danger she had not known existed but a moment before. "When you get to Braavos, ask for directions and go directly to the Iron Bank. Do not be intimidated by anything or anyone in there. You stand your ground and ask for an audience with Lady Veronica Silvo. Can you remember what I am saying?"

"Yes," the girl said. "I must go to the Iron Bank in Braavos and ask for Lady Veronica Silvo."

Torrhen gave her a reassuring nod. "Tell Lady Veronica Silvo that a wolf from the North sent you." A smile crept onto his lips as he recalled memories of Vera. "Tell her that I am sorry for the fight we had last time. Tell her that I miss her kind green eyes … that I still love her regardless of the words we had exchanged the last time. Tell her that I will come to her soon."

Torrhen remembered the last time he had talked to Vera and the smile went off as quickly as it had come. They had fought badly over the different views they had on marriage and children.

He was young when he fell in love with the first woman in his life. He had not thought of neither marriage nor children but only the love they had shared. Torrhen was a simple man, all he wanted was to share his love without restraints, be free to pursue his thirst for passion and adventure, and never set up roots in one place that would snag him there.

But Vera was the last of her house Silvo. A mighty house within Braavos that was wealthy, influential, and held a good amount of shares of the Iron Bank.

She had saved him twice, all without knowing who he was or where he had come from.

The first time, they had met by chance, she had shown kindness to a penniless, sick, starving Westorosi kid who lay near the canals, too weak to even move. She was but two years older than him, but from the barge they were traveling, she had commanded her father's man to carry Torrhen to a healer and provided enough coin to feed and house him for the coming days until he was well enough. Though his mind was addled at the time by the sickness, he could not forget her kind and gentle face nor the first few letters of her name, 'Vero.'

Torrhen wanted to pay her back for the kindness that she had shown to him. But in a city unknown to him at the time and the language and customs he was ignorant of, it was almost impossible.

He did find her after a few moons, when he walked Braavos like he was born there and spoke Braavosi as good as a local, but she was beyond his reach behind the walls of her manse that he could never hope to cross because of her highborn status.

By the time he had found who and where she was, he worked in the House of Black and White. He was allowed no possessions of his own, so he had nothing to give to her in return for saving his life. His identity as a Stark, he was already shedding as an apprentice to the faceless men to become No One.

But Vera was often a subject of his dreams. She remained in his mind, while he had willfully pushed everything about Westeros and himself deep down into his mind. He found that he was unable to forget about her no matter what he did. She had saved a Stark of Winterfell unknowingly, and that, he could never forget.

Believing that he had to do something for her in return, one day when he couldn't take it any longer, Torrhen sneaked into the Manse where she had lived.

His intrusion upon her room was a bit chaotic until Torrhen had gotten the chance to explain the reason for his presence. Then Vera had started laughing madly, he had been concerned until she had explained the reason for her mad relief.

She had thought that a faceless man had come to kill her in her sleep. She was the last of her house; her parents had died a moon ago in an accident, and she had feared that the rival houses were making moves against House Silvo for their wealth and shares of the Iron Bank. When things had calmed down, Torrhen asked a wish that she had wanted to see fulfilled, that even death wouldn't stop him from fulfilling her wish, for she had saved his life and he was honor bound to fulfill whatever she had in mind.

Vera had found his vow and sense of honor, cute. Torrhen found offense in that and insisted upon a quest that he could complete.

Vera had smiled and announced that she had no wishes right then, and to come back a fortnight later. She had no quest to give him when he had come back, but she had been prepared for his second arrival. She had set up a table filled with meals and wine to feast upon while she had questioned him, trying to uncover the mystery behind the mask that Torrhen had built up in the House of Black and White. His answers never satisfied whatever her unusual interest she had in him, and he had to come back every fortnight to seek and complete a quest that Vera would never grant him.

A year had passed by then, and that smile had chipped away at his stone heart until she had revived it back to life. Then she had stolen part of his own heart from him forever. Saving him the second time, from losing himself and his identity as Torrhen Stark, son of Eddard and Catelyn Tully Stark.

The last time he had met Vera, she had insisted upon her intention to marry Torrhen and have children with him, so that her family line could continue. Torrhen was afraid that he would never keep to his marriage vows nor be a good enough father to his children, so he had refused vehemently. But Vera did not care if he found lovers on the side nor did she want him tied up in Braavos as her husband, all she had wanted was to have children with the man she had loved.

Torrhen did not know if he would have fulfilled her wishes if she had demanded it of him. She still had that one wish she could ask him of, but she was too kind to even consider using it to force him.

After they had fought, they had made love and reconciled, but he had ran away from her under the cover of moonlight and avoided going back to Braavos for the past year. He had missed her greatly but now that he had grown up enough to confront the matter with Vera, he considered going back to her for the first time. After all, how hard could it be raising a child, when he had raised a lunk like Winter.

Coming back to the present, Torrhen closed the girl's hand over the pouch. "Always keep it hidden. Never bring out the pouch before others. Men have killed for far less before."

"I will, milord. Thank you."

"I am not a lord," he said, smiling at her. "I abhor lordship responsibilities with a passion. Call me Torrhen."

The girl blushed a little as she averted her eyes from his. "Thank you, Torrhen."

He kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

His father waited at the base of the stairs, a question on his face as he watched Torrhen approach. Jory stood beside a rain-streaked window as Heward and Wyl went to get the horses. Winter was enjoying the attention he was getting from a fearless wench, as she petted him warily with a stiff hand, a smile of disbelief on her face.

Littlefinger said his farewells to Chataya, kissing her hand and eliciting laughter from her with a joke before he sauntered over to where Ned and Torrhen stood. "Your business," he said lightly, "or Robert's? They say the Hand dreams the king's dreams, speaks with the king's voice, and rules with the king's sword. Does that also mean you fuck with the king's—"

Torrhen punched him in the face. And it felt damn good to let out the anger he held in, Littlefinger did own a few brothels after all, from the information he had gathered, and it would not have been right to let his anger out on Chataya.

"The direwolf must be a prickly beast," said Littlefinger flexing his mouth as he held onto the wall for balance and smirked at him.

"Take care before you decide to mock my family once more, Lord Baelish," Torrhen said as he put on his black cloak and gloves. "This is the final warning. I won't hold back the next time."

Ned was not happy with the way Torrhen had behaved but neither did he raise a complaint.

Torrhen called Winter after him, who now stood on his four legs with a menacing look at Littlefinger, the wench who had been petting him placed herself as far away from him as possible at witnessing a bit of the wolf's wild nature.

Standing at the door, he said to the wench, "I would not pet Winter in my absence again if I were you. Though he is civilized and well behaved, he still is a Direwolf. If he senses something amiss for one reason or another with someone he is not too familiar with, he would rip his throat out before any one can do something about it."

And then the two wolfs strode to stand out in the rain to cool the heated tempers raging in their hearts as Wyl handed him the reins to his horse. He led the way with Winter beside him while the others followed in his wake, for the other horses feared Winter more than anything. For rarely did ever predators mingled among prey as calmly as the two black wolves.