The North bred some hard eggshells and the Warden got the better ones.
There was another man standing next to Ned Stark with graying hair and side-burns that were tied at the chin… Okay, I’m seeing Rodrik Cassel as well…that’s neat.
…
Rodrik Cassel was staring him with a calm suspicion.
Ned Stark shared that look.
He seemed like a tougher Boromir.
He wasn’t quite as lined and gruff as he seemed on the show, but he was still Ned Stark.
Clark supposed that if he was going to survive, he was going to have to stop thinking about the actors that played them.
It was going to be tough.
His Grandma loved the BBC and was always watching it when he came over.
Half the actors on the show were familiar to him before he watched it.
The stares between them lasted a few seconds.
Clark knew that when it came to exuding toughness, he was going to lose.
So he decided to keep things as light as possible.
He could impress them later…somehow.
He stood.
“Lord Stark, good evening,” he called.
“Thank you for seeing me.” Ned Stark walked forward, stopping a few feet away.
He held the letter from Howland Reed.
The seal was broken.
“You delivered this from Lord Reed?” Clark nodded.
“That’s right.” There was a silence.
When he was waiting for Ned Stark appear, Clark became part of the background and was subsequently ignored by all.
Now with the Lord of Winterfell staring him down, he could feel the curious looks coming their way from the whole yard.
It was a little unnerving.
Finally Lord Stark turned to his guards.
“Walk with him,” he said, before looking back to Clark.
“Come with me.” He turned and walked away.
Clark followed him, the household guards following in step with him.
He would be speared four ways if he stepped out of line.
He was thankful for the cold.
Otherwise he’d be sweating bullets right now.
Lord Stark entered the main entrance to the biggest building in the castle.
The Great Keep?
The First Keep?
He’d figure it out later.
Right now, Ned was walking up stone stairs and through corridors.
There were less and less people present as they walked on.
Finally after five minutes, they came onto a short empty hallway with a single door at the end.
Ned Stark took a key out and unlocked the door, entering.
Clark waited a few seconds before he followed.
This was the Winterfell solar.
He knew that at once.
It looked busy but it was organized well enough.
The shelves around the room contained rolls of parchment and leather bound books.
He could only imagined how much record keeping was needed to keep a whole kingdom going.
There was a large table with a map of the North, along with various notes for the lands indicated.
There was a fire going in the hearth.
Two practical and comfortable looking chairs stood before it.
Above the hearth hung a tapestry.
There was a large group of people there; one stern-faced bearded man, a tall woman, three boys and a little girl…Ned’s family before the Rebellion…at least that was his educated guess.
Clark took his eyes to the centerpiece of the room, a large desk, behind which Ned now stood.
He had taken off his furs and his gaze was focused intently on Clark.
Clark winced.
He had gaped around like an idiot when he promised himself he wouldn’t.
Oh well, nothing to be done now.
He waited for Ned Stark to speak, noticing that the letter and his knife were on his desk.
Ned sat down.
“Your name is Tiresias?” Clark breathed.
“Yes.” “Tiresias, would you object to a search of yourself and your belongings?” “A search, Lord Stark?” “If you wish for us to speak privately, that’s the only way my men will leave the room.” He looked to the other men in the room, then back to Ned.
“Won’t have to strip nude, will I?” If Ned found the question funny, the slight pause before he spoke was the only hint of it.
“No,” said Ned.
“You won’t.” Oh Christ.
TSA of medieval times.
“Fine, go ahead,” he said.
He took off his cloak and placed it over the chair.
He then tossed the bag to one of the guards and stretched out as another guard stepped forward and started checking him.
Honestly the pat-down wasn’t nearly as invasive as his latest airport adventure.
He fucking hated the TSA.
But it was over quickly.
He supposed dangerous items were bigger in these times.
If he could sneak a dagger up his ass, that’d be a real trick.
Anyway, he relaxed and got his bag back as well with no objections.
He placed the bag on the ground next to the chair and waited.
One of the guards turned to Ned.
“Just a razor in the bag, m’Lord.” Ned almost smiled.
“I’m sure I can fight a razor, Trevor.
All of you; leave us.
Stand at the end of the hall and make sure we’re not disturbed.
Ser Rodrik, thank you for your company.
I’ll see you at dinner later.” Ser Rodrik and the four guards gave quick bows before leaving, Ser Rodrik giving Clark a warning look before closing the door.
There was a silence as Clark listened to the footsteps grow dimmer as they walked away and took their places at the end of the hallway.
He turned to see Ned Stark, watching him.
He walked forward as calm as he could and stood before the desk.
There was no chair.
Ned Stark touched the letter.
“This letter is dated over a month ago.
Did you walk all the way here?” “Yep.” Ned’s eyes were probing him.
“Do you know what this letter says?” Clark shrugged.
“No.
He said he vouched for me.
If he instructed you to kill me or imprison me, I wouldn’t know.
Those are still viable options, I guess.
I haven’t eaten any bread and salt and those guards in the hall look very scary.
The patdown was gentle enough though.” The only sound after that was the crackling of the fire.
Okay.
Perhaps sarcasm isn’t the best way to go.
“How was Lord Reed?” asked Ned.
“How was his health?” “He looked well.
He has the limp still, but he’s alive,” said Clark.
He steeled himself for his next sentence.
And probably the next few ones after.
“Not too bad for a man who stabbed Arthur Dayne in the back.” Ned kept his seat, but Clark could see his face tighten.
“I don’t judge him,” said Clark.
“You should know that I don’t judge him at all for what he did.
He wanted to save you.
His lord.
His friend.
If he hadn’t, you’d have died.
You were disarmed after all.” Clark forced himself not to panic, for his voice not to shake.
Calm would his only hope to get through this.
“Were you there?” Ned asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“I wasn’t there, but I saw it.” “What?” Okay, Clark.
Try to keep away from riddles in this conversation.
If you can.
“Lord Stark, Before I say anything else, you should know; I’m not your enemy.
Please keep that in mind when you hear what I have to say.” All of a sudden, he was thirsty.
Not caring that he was probably breaking lord-peasant protocol, he took his waterskin and gulped twice.
He turned back to Lord Stark, who seemed quite bewildered.
“Lord Stark, I’ll tell you what I told Lord Reed.
I’m no greenseer.
I’m not a magician or an oracle.
I was not at the Tower in Dorne all those years ago.
But for some reason that I can’t explain because I don’t know how, I witnessed what happened and so much more.
I’m…” He struggled for the right words and settled for simple.
“I’m here because I want to help you.
I want to help you and your family.
You’re all in great danger.
Or rather you will be.” God, he was messing this up.
He could feel his hand trembling and tried to relax.
How to explain to a man that his simple life of medieval lordship was about to get really fucking brutal really fucking quick?
“What danger do you speak of?” asked Ned.
Clark drew himself up to full height.
“Before I answer that, I need to give you some evidence that I do know things that I shouldn’t know.
So you’ll believe me when I say that you and everyone you know are in great danger.” He clenched and unclenched his hands.
“The fight between you, your men and the Kingsguard.
I could have seen that from a distance.” He lowered his voice.
“Did you see me when your sister was dying?
Was I in the room?”