Clark stood up.
“Yes, Lord Stark.
I would like that very much.
Thank you.” Ned nodded.
“Then, let’s go down for supper.
You’ll be my guest.
Put the chair back.” …
He turned to the door as Clark placed the chair back in front of the fire.
Putting the chair down, Clark got an idea.
“Lord Stark?” he asked.
“Do you have any wards?” Ned looked confused.
“I think you’re a little old to be a ward.” “No, I’m just asking you.
Do you have a ward?
Now?
Here in Winterfell?” The suspicion was back in Ned’s eyes.
“No, I don’t.” Clark stepped forward.
“I understand that a decade is a long time to wait to see if my visions hold true.
So let me give another event that I’ve foreseen.
In a short time, the Iron Islands will rebel.
Balon Greyjoy will declare himself King and he will attack.
He’ll start with Lannisport, burning the Lannister fleet.” Ned’s hand was still on the door handle.
Clark tried not to swallow too loudly.
“I don’t recommend you do anything to stop it.
There are people who should die on the Islands.
They’ll make life difficult for you if they live.
Keep me on for a year.
When they attack, I’ll give you more information if it’s necessary.
For now, just know: Lannisport will be first and the Lannister fleet will be destroyed.” Several seconds of silence followed.
“Is that all?” asked Ned, his composure back.
Clark thought.
“I think so.
Yeah.
I hope you forgive me.
It’s my first time being a soothsayer.
Am I still invited to dinner?” He couldn’t tell Ned’s mood.
The man was just regarding him, not knowing what to make of him.
Clark waited, hoping to whatever brought him to Westeros that he hadn’t fucked this up.
Ned opened the door.
“Of course, follow me.” Well, not now, at least.
As far as he could tell.
He followed Ned Stark to the end of the hall, where the guards straightened.
He was sure that they didn’t expect the conversation to take this long.
“At ease,” said Ned.
The guards relaxed, a few eyeing Clark suspiciously.
“Thank you for your vigil.
Did anyone come up to see me?” “Just the Lady Stark’s handmaid, m’Lord, the new one” said the tallest guard.
“Lady Stark wanted to know if you were coming soon to supper.
We didn’t say either way.
We didn’t know.” “That’s fine,” said Ned.
“All of you are dismissed for the evening.
I’m sure I’ll survive until the night guards go on duty.” There was a chorus of “thank you, m’lord” and short bows all around.
Lord Stark turned and walked back where they had walked previously, Clark keeping behind him.
“Lord Stark,” he said, as they turned the corner.
“May I have my knife back, please?” “Certainly.” Ned took the knife out and handed it to him, Clark sheathing it.
There was no more conversation for the rest of the walk.
They entered the dining hall.
It was no nowhere near as crowded as the feast for Robert’s arrival or the celebration after the Battle for Winterfell.
Ned and Clark walked through the rows of long tables, the few occupants pausing their conversation and nodding to Ned.
Clark met a few curious eyes as well.
He nodded politely back to them, trying to keep his excitement down.
They were approaching a group of people at the end of a long table.
A woman with dark red hair was sitting with several children… She turned to them when they reached the table.
Ned went behind her, gripping her shoulders affectionately.
“Hello Ned,” said Catelyn.
“Is everything all right?” “Yes, Cat, everything’s fine,” Ned said lightly.
“Evening, children.” “Evening, Father” said the two oldest children of Ned and Catelyn Stark.
Robb and Sansa were following the gaze of their mother, who was looking at Clark with polite curiosity.
“Do we have a guest for dinner, Ned?” asked Catelyn.
“We do.” Ned gestured to the bench for Clark to sit.
“Children, Cat, this is Tiresias.
He traveled here from the Neck.
He has walked all the way and he’s very tired.
Be gentle with him.” Clark nodded to Catelyn.
“Lady Stark, it’s lovely to see you.
Forgive me for intruding upon your meal.
I could sit elsewhere and give your family privacy.” “Nonsense,” Catelyn said.
“Please sit.
My husband usually brings someone up to sup with us in the evenings.
Are you hungry?” Clark sat, placing his bag under the bench.
“Very.” “Good.
You will be fed shortly.
Are you staying the night?” He looked to Ned for that one.
One night sure.
But as for the future… Ned placed his cup down.
“He’s our guest for the foreseeable future.
For one night at least.
Although Lord Reed did recommend him for work.” “What sort of trade have you, Tiresias?” asked Cat.
A serving woman set a cup in front of Clark and poured him some ale.
“Thank you,” he said, catching her eye before she took off.
He turned to the table and saw the big eyes of Robb and Sansa following him.
He leaned toward them, with an air of conspiracy.
“I’m tamer of lizard lions.
I’m here to domesticate your lizard lions and ride them to glory.
Where do your lizard lions roam, young lord and lady?” Robb laughed, but Sansa looked quite serious.
“We don’t have any lizard lions in Winterfell, your Lordship” she said.
Tiresias leaned back, sighed and took a sip of ale.
“Well, that’s too bad.
I suppose I’ll have to do something else.
And I’m no lord, my lady.
I’m just Tiresias.
What are your names?” Sansa drew herself up.
“My name is Sansa Stark.
This is my older brother, Robb.” Robb gave something of a greeting with a mouth full of bread, earning him a light reprimand from Catelyn.
Clark turned to his left.
There was a chubby toddler with dark hair who was staring at him and making a mess of her dinner at the same time.
She had grey eyes.
“Can you tell me your name?” asked Clark gently.
He tried not to think about his own niece back home, only two years of age herself.
It took a few seconds, but Clark clearly heard her say “Arya.” “How old are you, Arya?” She raised her hand and lifted two fingers.
“That’s pretty old,” said Clark.
“No, it’s not,” said Sansa across the table.
Clark fought the temptation to raise his eyebrows.
“Forgive me, my lady,” said Clark.
“Where I come from, two-year-olds are practically adults.” Sansa looked suspicious.
“That’s not true” Clark sighed dramatically.
“You’re right.
It’s not.
I’m just being silly.
How old are you?” The rest of the evening meal passed evenly enough.
Clark spoke to Robb, Sansa and Arya for a few more minutes until he and Ned received their food.
It was a savory chicken thigh with roasted potato and parsnips.
He ate more than one serving.
He wasn’t sure if he was being rude for overeating.
But in all fairness, being on the road for months made him less anxious about taking free food.
Plus they did offer multiple helpings.
Throughout the meal, Clark kept looking to the Stark family.
He hoped he was discrete but he couldn’t help it.
There was another toddler younger than Arya in Catelyn’s arms.
He deduced it was Bran early on and indeed Catelyn confirmed that, helping Bran as he put most of his dinner on his face.
So Rickon was further down the line.
Clark wondered where the other boy was… His question was answered when his second serving arrived.
Arya, with her parsnips smeared on her face, lit up and called “Jon!” He looked up to see a small, slender boy with black hair sit next to Robb and smile at Arya.
Clark tried to stay calm and chanced a glance at Catelyn Stark.
She was fine, but he could definitely see a little tension.
Next to her, Ned Stark was staring at him with slight apprehension.
He smiled and nodded, hoping to convey that the secret was safe for now.
Probably didn’t work.
He turned to Jon, who was eyeing him warily.
A stranger at the table.
“Is your name Jon?” Clark said, after swallowing some chicken.
Jon nodded.
“Jon Snow,” he said for clarification.
Clark held out his hand to shake.
Jon took it hesitantly.
“Hello Jon Snow.
My name is Tiresias.
It’s good to meet you.
I was enjoying the company of your brother and sisters.
Your other brother is too busy down there.” A full plate was put in front of Jon and he began to eat.
He was polite but he still ate quickly.
“Where were you, Jon?” asked Robb.
“We wanted to wait, but Mum made us start.” Jon shrugged.
“Lost track of time.” Clark sipped his ale.
It was a clear lie.
The same tone that Jon used when Robb asked about his mother in the second episode and Jon said that she was very kind.
He was sure that Jon was indeed checking the dining hall to make sure that Ned had joined the table before he joined them himself.
He doubted that Catelyn would refuse the boy supper, but all the time, Ned was a shield that Jon wanted for family time.
“Tir…Tiresa…” said Robb, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Tiresias,” said Clark slowly.
“How can I help you?” “Are you from the Neck?
Are you a crannogman?” he asked.
Clark shook his head.
“No, little lord.
I was only their guest.
They saved me from the swamp and escorted me to Moat Cailin.” Robb stared at him.
“You talk strange.
Where are you from?” “Robb,” said Catelyn, her eyes bright.
“You can ask our guest questions without telling him he speaks strangely.
I’m sorry, Tiresias.” “It’s all right, Lady Stark, it’s all right,” said Clark.
He cut his potato into sections, careful not to eat too quickly.
“I come from Essos.
My parents were nomads.
Didn’t stay anywhere long enough for an accent.
I arrived in Westeros only a few months ago.
I walked all the way here from King’s Landing.” “Can’t you ride a horse?” asked Jon.
“Not very well,” said Clark.
Robb piped up.
“I can.
I’m the best rider in the family.” “You’re the best pony rider in the family,” said Jon.
“That counts!” …