We shall arrive in a fortnight.
Don’t do anything stupid till I get there.
Karlon Stark, Admiral of the Western Fleet, Lord of Sea Dragon Point.
Short and to the point, as it had always been.
Ned reread it once and felt something in his chest loosen slightly.
He set it aside and turned to the letter beneath it—one that had Grandmaester Pycelle’s seal—and read that one through to the end without putting it down.
The entire royal family was coming.
Every last one of them.
He sat with that for a while.
Outside the solar window, Winterfell moved through its morning routine.
There was the distant rhythm of the forge where Mikken no doubt worked hard, the dogs were as loud as always in the kennels, and the voices of servants crossing the courtyard in whatever business each of them had for the day.
Ned’s lips first turned to a smile at the thought of his brother’s return.
Now if only Benjen would make his way to Winterfell, then the three brothers would finally reunite once more.
The last time the three of them were together, the realm was inflamed with war.
Their father and brother had been killed, and their sister kidnapped.
Benjen, who had been the Stark of Winterfell of the time, was confused.
Karlon had been fostered in Bear Island, and Ned had been fostered in the Eyrie with Jon Arryn.
They had both returned with anger in their eyes, hugged their youngest brother, and went to war.
He had earned his epithet at the Trident.
The Quiet Wolf, the military mind behind the loyalists’ defeat.
He had never been comfortable with that telling.
The Trident had been won with Robert’s hammer, and Ned had only been there to make sure the hammer landed where it was aimed.
His victories were smaller and quieter, the ones forgotten by the singers and the bards.
Remembering the events that came after was hard on his mind.
The deaths of Elia Martell and her children, breaking the siege of Storm’s End, the search for Lyanna, and then…the promise.
A sigh tore out of the Lord of Winterfell’s lips as he set Pycelle’s letter beside Karlon’s and looked at them both.
At the very least, a few good things came from the tragedy.
For the first time since the Burner, the North had a proper fleet.
They weren’t large by southern standards, but it was enough for a defensive engagement should the Ironborn prove trouble again somewhere in the next three decades.
No longer would they be forced to march through the Riverlands should trouble come from King’s Landing.
No longer would Ned himself walk half of Westeros in search of a family who was imprisoned in Dorne by the sworn members of the Kingsguard.
‘If only they had a fleet that day…’ Once again, he cursed the Burner for his actions within the privacy of his mind.
While he understood the pain of losing a father more than anyone, was crippling the North and ridding his descendants from naval might be the right thing to do?
Ned shook his head at that, that matter was solved now thanks to his brother’s actions.
The only fleets in Westeros that rivalled the Iron Fleet were the Redwyne Fleet and the Royal Fleet under Stannis Baratheon.
The North would have counted in that number, but this was where the North’s size worked against them.
Unlike any other kingdom, the North had shores both on the eastern and western borders, which meant they needed two separate fleets built on opposite sides of the kingdom—an expensive endeavour and required twice the amount of work, for transporting lumber was not an easy task for a kingdom such as the North.
But it was worth it.
With twenty war galleys and eighty longships, they could transport more than five thousand men from the west, while the Manderly’s had thirty galleys and sixty longships in the east.
They did not even lack naval commanders, for Karlon had proven himself more than twice over in the Greyjoy’s Rebellion.
His defeat to Jorah Mormont during the tourney of Lannisport was well known, but Karlon’s best strength was never his sword-arm, nor his riding.
No, that belonged to Benjen, who had always been the best swordsman of the three brothers.
Karlon’s strength came from his affinity in naval warfare.
Put him on a ship, and not even Victarion Greyjoy could match him at sea.
With the new fosterships of the fleet, one that Ned had designed to be similar to the Night’s Watch, more lords and captains could be trained in the ways of ship-sailing.
No longer would the North be considered inconsequential at sea.
But then again, all this talk of war was moot, for Robert’s rule on the Iron Throne was strong and the kraken had been defanged.
With the deaths of his two older sons, Balon would never risk rebelling while Theon grows inside of Winterfell’s walls.
But as Jon Arryn often said to both him and Robert, ‘a wise ruler never seeks out war, but must always be ready for it.’ The thought of his foster father had pain stab through Ned’s heart.
The news of the death wasn’t fresh, but he still took the time to grieve.
His mind slowly wandered to more immediate issues.
The King was coming north, and there was only one reason he would do so now that the Hand’s seat was vacant.
Ned grimaced.
As Karlon often said, the south rarely boded well for House Stark.
But at least Pycelle’s letter had given him one useful piece of information.
The royal entourage would not move quickly.
It never did.
The Queen’s litters, the court’s wagons, the hundred hangers-on who followed the crown wherever it traveled.
They would slow the march to a crawl.
Even riding hard from King’s Landing, the procession would take the better part of three months to reach Winterfell.
Perhaps more, if the weather south of the Neck was poor.
So around four months to prepare.
Four months for Karlon to arrive and tell off Ned in the blunt particular voice that he had been relying on since boyhood.
He needed that voice.
More than he wanted to admit, he needed it.
But till that day came, there was work to be done.
The household accounts needed reviewing before guests arrived in large numbers.
The roads would have to be cleared, the garrison assessed.
Rooms in the Guest House had to be prepared.
Just the thought of all the work had him sigh.
For some reason, the words told by that deserter he had executed rang in his mind, of the things he had seen beyond the Wall.
Ned had dismissed those words as he always did, but they stayed with him this time.
For days now, Ned couldn’t shake off a feeling that something was coming.
Then there was that whole other matter of the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Perhaps sending a summons to Benjen really was in order.
Jeor was a reasonable man, and he wouldn’t mind parting with his First Ranger for a few months if it was Ned who made the request.
House Stark had always been the Watch’s most staunch supporters.
The Wall had held for thousands of years, it would hold for a few months without Benjen Stark.
His mind settled, he reached for parchment, dipped his quill, and wrote two letters in quick succession — one to Benjen at Castle Black, one to Luwin, who would pen copies to be sent to the rest of the Northern houses.
When they were sealed he stood, took Ice from its place by the door with the ease of long habit, strapped it to his back, and went to find his steward.
There was too much to be done to sit here doing none of it.
Karlon would arrive within the fortnight.
Benjen, if the gods were kind, not long after.
And then the three of them would sit together in the great hall as they did when they were boys.
Perhaps, between the three of them, they would find a way to survive the days to come.
… AN: Here we go, chapter 2!
This chapter was fun, mainly because I finally got to share a bit of Karlon’s history as well as all the stuff that made him him.
I also showed a bit of a difference in how Karlon treats his household.
The books often mention things regarding a lord teaching his heir, and/or imparting lessons that an heir should know about.
I hope I portrayed some of that here.
All the Starks of Sea Dragon Point will have a role to play in the coming chapters.
Check it out if you’re interested, at least chapter 8 (long form, which is around chp 14 in webnovel) should be available by the time this chapter was uploaded.
Also, here are the ages of the people in House Stark.
I took liberties on a lot of them, to age up and age down a few people.
Timeline (STARTS IN 298 AC) Brandon Stark → Deceased at 19 → Born in 260 AC Eddard Stark → 37 years old → Born in 261 AC Catelyn Tully → 37 years old → Born in 261 AC Karlon Stark → 36 years old→ Born in 262 AC Dacey Mormont → 35 years old → Born in 263 AC Lyanna Stark → Deceased at 14 → Born in 265 AC Benjen Stark → 32 years old → Born in 266 AC Robb Stark → 17 years old → Born in 281 AC Jon Snow → 17 years old → Born in 281 AC Alaric Stark → 16 years old → Born in 282 AC Lyarra Stark → 15 years old → Born in 283 AC Sansa Stark → 14 years old → Born in 284 AC Arya Stark → 11 years old → Born in 287 AC Bran Stark → 10 years old → Born in 288 AC Arella Stark → 10 years old → Born in 288 AC Rickon Stark → 5 years old → Born in 293 AC I hope you enjoyed this one, cheers guys!