"Benjen?"
Ned looked at his brother in confusion as Benjen Stark hurried toward them, his cloak still dusted with frost.
"How did you get back so quickly?"
Benjen did not answer. He stopped before Robert and bowed.
"Your Grace."
Robert stared at him as though seeing a ghost.
"Benjen, you look half-dead on your feet." He took him by the arm, helping him stand. "No need to rush so hard just to greet me. I'll be in Winterfell at least a week."
Benjen managed a weary smile—but Ned saw the tension in his eyes. Something was wrong.
"What happened?" Ned asked quietly. "Has trouble come to the Wall?"
Benjen's jaw tightened. He nodded.
"The rangers have seen signs. The wildlings are gathering in large numbers… as if uniting under a single force."
Robert's brow creased. Ned's breath caught.
"And?" Ned pressed.
Benjen swallowed.
"They found giants among them."
Silence flooded the crypt.
Ned and Robert stared at him—disbelieving, yet knowing Benjen would not lie.
"Giants?" Robert muttered. "Seven hells…"
"They're real," Benjen insisted. "Ten days past, Ser Jaremy Rykker rode out with five rangers to investigate Will's disappearance."
"They stumbled into a massive wildling host. Only Ser Jaremy returned. He swears he saw at least three giants among them."
Robert paced, running a hand through his hair.
"That bloody knight always had a soft spot for the Mad King," he griped. "Could he be mistaken? Or lying?"
Benjen shook his head firmly.
"He's a hard man, but not a liar."
As his words sank in, the cold crypt seemed to grow colder still.
Benjen exhaled shakily. He had ridden through the night to deliver this news—hoping support would come.
The Night's Watch had grown weak.
Too few brothers guarded too long a wall. If wildlings and giants struck at Castle Black, they might not withstand the attack.
Robert turned to Ned with sudden decision.
"Well, Ned—Hand of the King. Time to earn your title."
Benjen blinked. "Hand?"
Robert grinned broadly. "I named him my Hand just now. You may take your problems to him from now on."
Benjen felt a rush of relief—and fear.
Joy that Lord Commander Mormont's plea might finally be heard. Fear that Ned would march south… and never return.
Ned sighed, wishing he'd refused harder.
He placed a steady hand on his brother's shoulder. "Go get some rest, Benjen. There will be a feast tonight."
As for the Wall… I will see to it."
Benjen bowed gratefully and left—his footsteps fading into the crypt's shadows.
Only then did Ned speak again.
"The Wall does need support. It has for years."
He looked troubled. "But deciding how, and how much, must be discussed in council. We need the realm's consent."
Robert waved the concern away.
"You're the Hand. You decide. The realm will fall in line."
Ned shook his head, resigned. "Let's go. The queen will be wondering where we've gone."
"The queen…" Robert growled. "Let the Others take her."
He glared once more at Lyanna's stone face before following Ned out. Their conversation continued as they walked.
"You still haven't told me what truly happened to Jon Arryn."
Robert's booming voice dimmed.
"He burned out in weeks, Ned. A sickness like fire… devoured him."
He rubbed his eyes. "I adored that man."
"We all did," Ned murmured. "Catelyn worries for her sister. How is Lysa?"
Robert grimaced.
"Mad. Grief has broken her. She fled to the Eyrie with her boy."
He sighed heavily. "That poor lad—sickly and frail. I meant for Tywin Lannister to foster him. The boy might thrive under Tywin's care."
"But she fled without a word. Damned foolishness."
Ned bristled. "Lysa fears losing her son. I understand that. If he must be fostered, let him come to Winterfell."
Robert snorted. "You're a good man, Ned. But too late—Tywin has already agreed. To take the boy elsewhere now would be an insult."
"I don't much care for sparing Tywin's pride," Ned replied sharply. "I care for my nephew."
Robert barked a laugh and threw his arm across Ned's shoulders. "That's because you don't share a bed with a Lannister at night."
Then, more serious, "And you will need Lannister gold if you mean to strengthen the Wall."
Ned groaned inwardly.
He would rather face a thousand wildlings than beg the Lannisters for coin.
"Old gods, have mercy…"
Robert laughed again at his misery.
They reached the crypt entrance, the great stone lords staring after them as if judging.
Ned handed the lantern to the guard.
Together, Hand and King climbed back toward daylight—where Winterfell bustled, preparing for the evening feast.
__________
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