Chapter 14:
Jeralt:
He was grateful, that the walls of Winterfell were thick, and that its spies were few.
Even so, he still all but whispered when he spoke. His voice low.
“You should keep Tommen here.”
Ned turned his head, looking at him in confusion for a moment before his features twisted, disappointment and anger in his expression. “I will not kill an innocent boy for leverage.”
“No.” Jeralt agreed. “But the Lannisters don’t know that.” He said. “If you go south, and they try to do to you what they did to Arryn, Tommen’s presence here might make them hesitate. If I’m helping you with this, then we need to be smart about it. Honor doesn’t have the same value in the south.”
Ned still looked troubled by the prospect, but he didn’t dismiss it.
“He’s betrothed to Arya.” Jeralt pushed. “A holdfast in the north isn’t out of the question. Framing it as him fostering here to learn the culture would justify it easily enough, and it might not even be a lie.” He soothed.
“I will think on it.”
Jeralt wanted to push. To get an assurance that he’d do more than just think on it.
Because as much as they were friends, he had no intention of dying because of Ned’s ‘Honor’.
But, at the end of the day he was still a mercenary, and Ned was the Lord paramount of the North.
So he swallowed down the words, sighing as he stood. “Its the best move you have right now.” He offered. “I should go, make sure that the men aren’t getting stupid.”
Stark nodded, and Jeralt took the opportunity to bow and quietly leave the man’s solar.
The double doors were thick wood, very unlikely any sounds could escape them when they were sealed, but Jeralt still looked at the two Stark guards standing at its flanks for any reactions, but they offered none. So he kept walking.
Making his way through the halls of Winterfell, he worked his way out of the castle, sighing in relief as the cold northern air kissed his face, as he emerged outside to the gray skies and lightly falling snows.
Not for the first time, Jeralt hated his own sense of morality.
Yes it existed. As much as he tried to deny it publicly. A Moral mercenary was a poor mercenary after all.
But as much as he denied it, some select few knew it existed. One of those people was of course Ned.
And now Ned had roped him into this…
Jon Arryn, potentially murdered, and the suspects were all Lannisters, royal family members first and foremost.
What a fucking mess.
He hadn’t intended to travel to King’s landing after this visit; he instead had wanted to go to White Harbor and book a ship from there to Bravos.
There were always good contracts amongst the ever feuding city states. He would have stayed there for at least a few years, especially if Jon Snow was convinced to join them.
That plan looked like it was going out the window.
The thought of dragging his troupe down to King’s landing didn’t sit well. Not only because of the fucking stink of it, but of course because of the danger. Not just from investigating Lannisters, but Byleth… was irreverent to authority, as he himself very nearly saw first hand when she went to chastise Prince Joffrey and shaved off ten years of his life.
It was trouble waiting to happen.
Hmm… Perhaps he could still send the bulk of his men to Bravos. Realistically, the ones who would actually be useful in the delicate, discreet work of investigation would be himself, and Shamir. Alois had a good enough head on his shoulders to lead in his absence for a few months. Or Byleth herself.
But Byleth could also be useful, to him if things really went south down in King’s landing. Her skill with a blade was just… unrivaled. .
Still… splitting the troupe would bring questions. Unwanted ones. A mercenary leader leaving his band to go to a city where he realistically had no business being in wasn’t going to look right.
He marched through the snows, and up to the inner castle walls, mind awhirl with thoughts and ideas, brainstorming plans as his feet carried him to the high walls.
Perhaps on the trip down then… White Harbor wasn’t the only port. Gulltown and King’s landing itself were also present. Knowing Robert he’d insist the whole way down that Jeralt stick around. So perhaps he could obfuscate that way. Say they got word of a contract in the Vale to deal with the mountain clan raids, he sends off the men to take a ship through Gulltown to Bravos in secret and he “obeys the King” by staying with them til King’s landing.
Then its just a matter of pretending to be useless for a few weeks, or even months while quietly searching for clues on how exactly Jon Arryn died.
He leaned against the battlements of the high wall, hands cold against the snow that he brushed off the hewn stone.
The worst of it was that if this was just a widow jumping at shadows then…Then he risked not only angering the Lannisters but the prince and future King, or even Robert himself, if he got wind of the fact that they thought his son was a murderer.
Fucking hell this was a mess…
“What happened?”
Jeralt sighed. “That obvious huh?”
Looking to his right, he found Shamir making her way closer.
“You only get that look on your face when there’s a problem.”
He snorted. “What kind of look?”
“Like you just caught sight of a brick wall and are about to bash your head through it.”
That made him laugh.
After a moment he calmed himself down with a shake of his head, the smile still lingering over his lips. “Where’s Byleth?”
“Being followed around by the Stark Girl and Lannister boy.”
“Good” He nodded. The more time Tommen spent with arya the more likely it was that Robert would agree to have the boy stay here to foster.
He turned around, now leaning his back against the battlements and looked around to make sure they were alone. “Well… you’re the one I’m gonna have to rely on the most for this, so might as well tell you now.”
Shamir cringed. “Second thought- think By’s calling me, I should go.”
“Oh no.” He chuckled. “This is your mess now too. So stick around. We got a contract.”
She rolled her eyes, releasing a long suffering sigh. “What kind?”
“The discretion necessary kind.”
—
Catelyn Stark:
Catelyn Stark hadn’t felt so troubled in many, many years.
Her sister leveling accusations of murder and kidnapping, her husband set to go south into certain danger. The tension of hosting the royal party in and of itself, a betrothal.
It was all so much all at once.But still, there was at least one thing that she and Ned could do right now, one thing she could try and solve.
And after what Sansa had told her, of what her niece had let slip during their embroidery; well, she was all the more certain she needed to get Bernadetta away from those Lannisters.
And so quietly slipping away from her day to day duties, she made her way to the guest rooms
The halls were quiet and empty at this time. With Lannister and Baratheon men out in the courtyards and tending to the wandering royals where needed.
But as she rounded the last corner, there was one occupant present that somewhat caught her offguard; though it shouldn’t have.
“Oh, Lady Stark.” The boy, and he was a boy had a shock of silver hair. Ashe, low born if she recalled correctly, and taken on as Prince Dimitri’s squire just recently.
Catelyn stiffened ever so slightly. Her sister’s words coming back to her as she stared at him, the proof plain as day to see with the added context.
This wasn’t Bernadetta’s friend, or sworn sword or whatever he was attempting to play act as. This was a Lannister creature. Here to keep an eye on their hostage.
Even so, she smiled kindly. Courtesy was a woman’s weapon. “Good evening.” She said kindly. “I would like to speak with my niece. I heard she wasn’t feeling very well after meeting with Sansa.”
Surprisingly, the boy nodded; though he couldn’t hide the guilt from his expression. He should feel guilty for what he was doing. “Of course.” Gently he turned and knocked on the door. “Bernadetta? Lady Stark is here to see you.”
For a moment there was no answer, then, ever so slightly, the door creaked open, revealing her shy niece peeking her eye out from the small open slit.
“H-hello… Lady Stark.”
Catelyn smiled gently at the poor, frightened girl. How had she mistaken this fear for simple shyness. It was so clear that she was aware of her status as a hostage.
But still, soon enough she could make this right. “Hello my girl.” She tilted her head as though trying to peek into the room. “Might I come in to speak?”
Bernadetta hesitated and looked to her guard, hesitating.
Ashe, that was his name if Catelyn recalled, smiled. “I’ll be right outside.” He said. And Catelyn had to hide her reaction at the implicit threat that was taking place, nominally, under her own nose
Bernadetta pulled the door open, stepping aside to let Catelyn in.
Stepping inside, Catelyn shut the door behind her, her features serious for a moment before she eased the lines of her face into another smile, she decided to cut straight to the point. Who knew what would happen if the Prince heard she was meeting privately with Bernadetta.
“Have you been enjoying your time here sweetling?”
Bernadetta didn’t answer with words, instead, nodding, lips tight, stance tighter. The girl was like a hare, just about ready to start and flee at the slightest spook. It broke Catelyn’s heart.
The lady of Winterfell reached her hands forward, grasping Bernadetta’s hands in her own and squeezing with reassuring force. Trying to convey the comfort she couldn’t quite speak aloud just yet. “I’m glad.” She said, nodding. “I’ve discussed things with Ned. And we are in agreement. How would you like to Foster here in Winterfell? Get to know your cousins and stay with us?”
Bernadetta’s eyes widened and she squeezed Catelyn’s fingers back for a split second with all of her strength. “M-mother won’t allow it!” She protested. “S-she ma-made me and the prince promise I’d return to the Vale when the Royal party returns!”
A promise that the prince likely wouldn’t keep.
“We can send a Raven.” Catelyn promised. “But it will still be a shorter trip, if you stay.” She reassured. A ship from White Harbor to Gulltown. It will cut travel time nearly in half, you’ll be back in the vale all the sooner if that’s what she wishes.
Bernadetta bit her lip. “A-and if I want to stay and she wants me to go?”
Catelyn frowned, confused at the question. “Well, I suppose we would have to honor her wish. But I’m your aunt. She knows you’ll be safe with me.” Did she feel unsafe in the Vale as well? Did the Lannisters have catspaws there as well?
The conflict was clear and easy to read on Bernadetta’s features. Catelyn wondered at it. Surely the girl should want first and foremost to escape her captors.
She tossed a glance at the door, reassured that it was unlikely that the boy, even with his ear pressed to the other side could do scarce more than hear faintly.
So she leaned forward, lowering her voice as she spoke. “You’ll be safe and happy hear my girl.” She promised as Bernadetta’s eyes went wide. Catelyn squeezed her hands once again. “Think on it.” She pleaded. “Ned and I would be happy to have you. He can discuss it with the King-” Robert Baratheon was no Lannister, and Ned assured that he had as much love for Jon Arryn as though the man was a father, that love would extend to Bernie. If the Lannisters and his son had taken Bernadetta as a hostage, he was ignorant of it. And if he said Bernadetta could stay, the Lannisters would not contest him openly.
That was their card to play. But it could only be played if Bernadetta agreed to stay.
Her piece said, Catelyn made ready to leave, before thinking better of it. “It’s lonely, in this room. Would you like to join me in my duties?” She asked.
Another moment’s hesitation before Bernadetta haltingly nodded.
Lacing her arm with that of her niece, she opened the door, and ignored the boy still standing guard by the door before escorting Bernadetta down the hall.
—
Jon Snow:
As he made his way into the Godswood, basket in hand, Jon found himself, not just surprised but almost dumbfounded as the lakeside clearing came into view, the pale grey sun of the North, casting red light through the canopy of blood red leaves above.
“Felix?” He asked with naked shock in his features and voice.
His second brother turned, looking over his shoulder with that same stoic, cold indifference he looked at everyone with, but offered a Nod even as Arya caught sight of Jon, calling her baseborn brother’s name in excitement.
Jon smiled as Arya ran up to him, training sword still firmly in hand. The Prince, her betrothed, waddled after her, still armored head to toe in enough padding to make him look like an overstuffed pillow.
Beside him, the dark haired mercenary woman, Byleth.
Made her way closer as well.
Jon, kneeling down, set the basket on the floor, opening it to reveal bread, cheese, some smoked meats and cakes from the kitchen.
“There you go.” He laughed. “Good food for the hardworking newlyweds.” He teased, receiving a punch from Arya for his efforts and a scarlet red blush from Tommen.
As the two children began to share the food amongst themselves, Jon turned his attention to Felix. “I’m surprised to see you here, Brother. Didn’t think you’d be helping Arya train.”
It was no secret that Felix was by far the most taciturn of the Stark family. The only one he even gave the time of day to was himself, Robb and their father. Everyone else, he almost treated as beneath him. If you couldn’t wield a sword or fight in some way, you weren’t worth his time.
As much as Arya might want to learn, she was no swordswoman yet.
“I’m not.” Felix answered, gaze fixed ahead of him. Jon followed his eyes, to the woman. Byleth.
Jon tried to work his thoughts into words, in the end, he settled for a diplomatic- “I don’t believe your mother or Father would approve Brother.”
Felix turned to him, a confused eyebrow hiked up to his hairline before he realized what Jon thought and rolled his eyes. “No you idiot. Can’t you see it!?”
Now it was Jon’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “See wha-”
“Snow! Jon Snow, are ya in here lad!”
That call surprised Jon, he vaguely recognized the voice as Rolf, one of the guardsmen. “Aye!” He shouted back. “I’m here!”
“Lord Stark is lookin for ya lad. Best not keep him waiting.”
His father?
“Did something happen?” Felix asked, the barest hint of concern, or curiosity coloring his voice.”
“Are you in trouble?” Arya asked, a mouthful of bread and cheese stuffed in her gob.
Jon shrugged, brows knitting together. “I… don’t think so?” Had the royal family taken insult by his presence somehow? Or the Lady Stark? He’d tried to make himself scarce; especially since the Bolton heir arrived with that story about his own Bastard brother.
Felix shrugged then. “Best go then. Father wouldn’t call on you without good reason.”
On that, Jon could agree and he turned away, making his way out of the Godswood back towards the keep.
It was Rolf’s voice he recognized, seeing the guard offering him a nod and a small smile as he stepped out of the sacred grounds. “Good Lad. Lord Stark is in his study, last I heard. Best head on up there.”
The man’s tone and demeanor didn’t point to his lord father being angry, but Jon genuinely couldn’t think of what on earth he might have done that would have his father call on him; especially now, when he was so busy with entertaining the King and his family.
Still, he knew the way easily enough, and before too long, even navigating through the overcrowded courtyard and lower halls, he made his way to his father’s study.
The guards greeted him with simple nods and ‘Snow’ stepping aside as they opened the door to allow him passage.
His father was at his desk, a canvas of papers and documents littering its surface.
Glancing up as the doors closed, his father blinked. “Ahh, Jon.” He nodded, smiling softly.
Good, smiling. That meant that Jon wasn’t in trouble.
His mind put at ease, he nodded back. “Father. You were looking for me?”
The Lord of Winterfell stood from his seat, beckoning Jon closer as he walked around his desk.
Jon came close, and his father placed a hand on his shoulder once he was in range, the warm palm felt heavy, and his father stared at him with an intensity that caught Jon offguard.
“Father?”
But Ned Stark only continued to stare at him, taking a breath. “I’ve had time to think about many things these last few days son.” He began. “One of those things I’ve considered; is your future.”
Jon felt his stomach flop along his insides, confused and unnerved by the turn of the conversation. “I’ll be joining the watch.” He said. “I’ll travel to the wall with Uncle Benjen when-”
His father held up a hand, silencing him.
He didn’t look directly at Jon when he spoke, staring at a spot on the floor near the fireplace at Jon’s left. “You don’t have to go to the Wall.” He said softly. “Not so young. Not with your whole future ahead of you.”
Jon found himself repeating the words he’d told himself for years. The justification feeling wooden and clumsy on his tongue right now. “There is honor to be found at the wall.” A place where bastardry doesn’t matter.
“There is.” Ned agreed, and now looked at Jon. “But the wall will be there. For after you and I are gone. You have time Jon. Time to live and search for your honor elsewhere before you commit yourself to the wall.”
Of all the things that this conversation could have been, this is not what Jon had expected. “And… where would I go?”
His father paused, staring at him.
“Jeralt is a man that I trust.” He answered. “And a good man besides.”
“A Mercenary?”
“A Good man.” His lord father repeated. “He’s made the offer. He’s willing to take you as part of his crew. If you do not wish to stay in Winterfell, if you find you do not wish for the wall quite yet… you can build something of your own there.”
Jon swallowed. “I… don’t know what to say-”
His father shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything right this second son. Think it over. I will not force any decision. But you should know that there is a new door open for you.”
“Did he make the offer because I’m your bastard?” Jon found himself asking.
His father thought for a moment. “I’ve no doubt our friendship played a part in the offer, but I know Jeralt enough to know that if you do not pull your own weight he will give you no special treatment, my son or not.”
That almost sounded like Jeralt didn’t care whether Jon was a Bastard or not.
And that alone made the thought tempting enough.