Chapter 43: Moving On
The morning light filtered through the narrow windows of Winterfell's Lord's Chamber, casting long shadows across the ancient wood of the desk where Eddard Stark sat surrounded by the mundane business of ruling the North. Grain ledgers, tax reports, letters from the various lords and castellans of his domain—the daily weight of lordship that never seemed to diminish no matter how many hours he spent attending to it.
A letter from the Reach lay open before him, detailing the schedule and quantities of grain deliveries that would be arriving in the coming months. Eddard found himself smiling at it despite everything else weighing on his mind. Artos's negotiations had borne fruit, and grain prices had dropped significantly across the North. It was perhaps his brother's greatest gift to their people, more valuable in its way than all the gold in the world.
The North was harsh, and winter was harsher still. Starvation was a constant threat in the lean months, and a bad harvest could spell disaster for thousands. With the reduced prices Artos had secured, families would eat better. Children would grow stronger. The North would endure.And yet, problems remained. The delivery routes were still uncertain. The logistics of moving grain from the Reach to the frozen lands of the North was complex, fraught with difficulties. Political complications still arose between lords who wanted preferential rates. There was always something more to solve, always another issue lurking just beyond the horizon.
"Some problems will always remain," Eddard muttered to himself, setting down his quill.
Maester Luwin appeared at the chamber door, the letter held carefully in his weathered hands."A raven arrived from King's Landing, my lord," Luwin said, approaching the desk with the careful dignity befitting his position. "It bears the Hand's seal. I thought it best to bring it to you immediately."
Eddard's chest tightened. Letters from Jon Arryn were rarely routine matters. He took the parchment and broke the seal, reading quickly. As his eyes moved across the words, his expression grew grave and complicated—a mix of emotions playing across his features that Maester Luwin found concerning.
"Send word," Eddard said finally. "Summon my brothers. Both of them. I need to speak with them immediately."
"At once, my lord," Luwin replied, departing with quiet efficiency.
Eddard returned to his seat, but his mind was not on the ledgers before him. His fingers drummed against the oak desk, a rare display of nervous energy from a man typically controlled and measured.
Artos and Benjen arrived within the hour, having been found in different parts of the castle. Artos had been in the training yard—of course he had—still working through the restless energy that plagued him since his return from the South. Benjen had been in the library, studying maps and architectural drawings for Moat Calin.
"Ah, finally you've both come," Eddard said as they entered. "I've been waiting for you."
Artos immediately moved to a side table where he kept a selection of his homemade mead and poured generous portions into three cups without asking permission. Eddard watched with amusement despite his tension, while Benjen accepted his cup readily.
"You know how to settle a room, Arty," Eddard said, picking up his own cup and taking a measured sip. The mead was strong, warming as it went down, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
"You looked wound tighter than a bowstring, brother," Artos replied with a slight grin. "Lordly duties getting to you, or is it domestic troubles?"
Benjen laughed and took another drink. "Aye, brother, especially after how things have been between you and your wife. That would be enough to drive any man to drink."
Despite the valid jab, Eddard couldn't help but smile slightly at his brothers' irreverence. But the matter at hand demanded attention.
"I received a letter from King's Landing," Eddard said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "From Jon Arryn himself. The king has decided to marry."
A moment of silence fell over the chamber.
"That's not particularly shocking, is it?" Artos mused, swirling his mead thoughtfully. "Robert's a king now. He needs an heir, and marriage is the way to secure one. Jon Arryn probably spent weeks convincing him of the necessity. The man's a schemer, but I'll grant he's effective."
Benjen leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied his eldest brother's face more carefully. "What's really bothering you, Ned? You looked angrier than just 'the king is getting married' angry."
Eddard took a long pull from his cup before answering. "It's who he's marrying. Cersei Lannister."
The reaction was immediate. Artos slammed his cup down on the table with enough force that mead sloshed over the sides.
"Fucking hell. What is this? A reward for murdering children? For threatening a Stark in the king's own throne room? It's disgusting, Ned. Absolutely disgusting."
"Forget about it," Benjen said, though his tone suggested he understood Artos's anger even if he advocated against dwelling on it. "It's a dirty business, but nothing can be done now. The past is past."
"That's not the part that enrages me most," Eddard said quietly. "What infuriates me is that Tywin Lannister threatened my brother in that same throne room. He swore he would have Artos's head. And now his daughter is marrying the king. He's not being held accountable. He's being rewarded."
"Aye, threatening a Stark and marrying his daughter into the Royal Family," Benjen acknowledged grimly. "It's audacious, I'll grant him that. But he's a powerful lord, the richest in the Seven Kingdoms. For a politician as cunning as Jon Arryn, it makes sense. Tywin Lannister is a useful ally to have, even if we despise him."
"It makes sense," Eddard agreed, though the words clearly pained him. "But it's still wrong."
"Forget about it," Artos said more forcefully now, waving a dismissive hand. "The king needed a bride, and she was apparently the best option available. It's political realism at its finest, and it's not something we should waste energy worrying about. The Lannisters are what they are."
Eddard nodded slowly, accepting the wisdom even if he didn't like it. "You're right. We're going to King's Landing for the wedding."
"I'll remain at Winterfell," Benjen offered immediately. "I can hold the castle and oversee the preparations at Moat Calin."
"That works well enough," Eddard agreed. "Artos, you'll come with me."
"Absolutely not," Artos replied flatly. "It would be difficult for me to refrain from killing at least one Lannister if I'm in the same room with them for an extended period. Go and enjoy your friend's wedding, brother. I'll stay here and try not to burn down the castle in frustration."
"Of course it's me who has to go," Eddard said with a slight laugh despite his irritation. "You two are about as reliable as spring snow."
Benjen and Artos exchanged a look and laughed at their brother's expense. It was true enough—between Artos's volatile temper and Benjen's increasing focus on his new responsibilities, Eddard was left as the only one consistently available to represent House Stark at southern functions.
"Speaking of responsibilities," Benjen said, steering the conversation toward more practical matters, "how is everything else progressing? Moat Calin?"
"The restoration is moving forward at a good pace," Eddard replied, seeming grateful for the change of subject. "The work is impressive, actually. But it needs men to garrison it properly. We can't just restore the structure—we need soldiers to make it a functioning fortress."
"We have men," Artos offered. "The ones who followed me through the war. They're battle-tested, trusted, and they know how to fight."
Eddard shook his head. "They're good men, but will they listen to anyone but you? From what I've seen, they're fiercely loyal to their commander but potentially... unruly with anyone else. We need discipline at Moat Calin."
"Aye," Benjen agreed. "We can't just send a bunch of angry wolves to garrison a fort. We need structure, hierarchy, men who'll respect their orders."
Artos considered this for a moment, then nodded. "We use Bert to command them. He's the only man I know who could control those hardened bastards. They respect him, and more importantly, they'll listen to him. Bert is a man I would trust with my eyes closed—I'd certainly trust him with a garrison."
"Bert is a good choice," Eddard admitted. "But we can't send all of them. We need to select carefully—the most reliable, the ones most likely to accept Bert's command without question. The rest can remain here at Winterfell or be dispersed among other northern lords who need experienced men."
"Aye," Benjen agreed. "A mixed force. Some of Artos's veterans under Bert's command, supplemented with Winterfell men I've trained, and a few reliable men from the other northern houses. That should give us a proper garrison without creating any power imbalances."
All three brothers nodded in agreement, the pieces of their strategy falling into place. Moat Calin would have teeth, leadership that could be trusted, and enough experienced soldiers to make it a true fortress rather than just a symbolic structure.
---
A favour please suggest me some other Interesting fanfics. Haven't read something fresh in long time. Thanks 🤍
---
Please join the patreon
YOU LIKE THE WORK PLEASE SUPPORT 🙏
Please join the patreon and join the pack
www.patreon.com/Cregantheblackwolf
Thank you for your support and I am really grateful.