Chapter 3: Royal Visit pt. 1

The arrival of the royal party was quite the sight. Hundreds of riders came through Winterfell’s gates in a panoply of color and noise. Steel clad knights and riders in plate and mail and leather, tabards of Lannister red and gold and Baratheon yellow and black popping among more subdued blues, blacks, greys and greens.

Among the riders some stood out. One, arrogant but in incredibly fine armor with golden hair and a white cloak must have been Ser Jaime Lannister. Another, one of the largest men I’d seen since my arrival and with a horrifically burnt face could only be Sandor Clegane, the Hound. And at the very front, a massive middle aged man rode. He had obviously gone to seed in his later years, fattened by food and drink and a lack of exercise, but he carried his bulk with an ease that spoke to the muscles hidden by his fat. He was like a middle aged construction worker, heavyset but still strong and capable of smacking some young such-and-such about if needed.

Honestly, to my eyes the procession looked gaudy as hell, and reminded me of nothing more than when I was a child, vacationing in a town in France when a motorcycle gang rolled through. I knew, academically, what a motorcycle gang was, what they had done in previous decades, but hadn’t realized that such gangs existed into modern times. I thought it was a historical reenactment, a hobby group taking themselves far too seriously. Luckily, as everyone around me fell silent I held my laughter until they had passed. These Westerosi reminded me of that. Taking themselves far too seriously for how ridiculous their pageantry was, but lethally serious if crossed.

I was stood off to the side with a collection of Northern Lords and their families and retainers who had journeyed to Winterfell to take part in the celebrations surrounding the King’s visit. Winterfell was about fifteen hundred miles from the capital, and it was rare for a Northern Lord to make that journey. The king’s visit represented the greatest Northern access to the Royal Court ever in the Seven Kingdoms’ history, and hundreds of Northerners had flocked to the fortress bearing gifts of food and wine so as to ease Winterfell’s burden.

King Robert came to a stop near Lord Stark and his family, then leapt off his force and picked the smaller man up in a bear hug. Looking at him next to Stark he must have been at least a couple inches taller than me.

“Ned! It is so good to see that frozen face of yours!” he boomed with a laugh. “You have not changed one bit.”

Lord Stark, ever serious, simply replied, “Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.”

I waited bored as the queen descended from her monstrosity of a wheelhouse, and graciously allowed Lord Stark to kneel and kiss her ring. I was faintly pissed off by her adherence to custom when her husband treated my benefactor like a brother. In fact, with my read on Westerosi culture, the queen should have taken her husband’s lead. If Robert felt Ned was his brother, then she should have done so too.

Clearly the antagonism between the Starks and Lannisters was more than rumors. And that made me nervous. Robert wasn’t just here for a visit; his previous Hand, a sort of Prime Minister who was a father figure to both Robert and Ned, had died. And unless I missed my guess, Robert was here to get Lord Stark to fill those shoes.

I knew enough history to understand how risky court could be, especially if the Lannisters had been even slightly intelligent with how they used their legendary wealth. Given Lord Tywin Lannister’s reputation, I doubted that the man had been anything less than fully intelligent. It was obvious from the body language that the prince, Joffrey, favored his mother, and that could put the Starks in a very awkward situation.

The greeting party broke up as the king and Lord Stark left for the crypts to pay their respects to Lyanna, Eddard’s younger sister, the king’s betrothed, and the woman whose abduction launched a revolution. I went to the stables to fetch Togo and Aethon, already saddled and with bow and arrow in their holsters; the castle had nearly quadrupled in population with the arrival of the king’s party and the Northmen come to pay court to him, and the larders needed filling.

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That night there was a true medieval feast for the king’s arrival. Dozens of courses, dancers, singers and other entertainment. It lasted for hours, and for all that the Lannister aligned knights spoke that the queen or Tywin had organized better, it was the most extravagant event I’d ever been part of. That said, I kept my wine consumption reasonable, used magic to keep a clear head, and paid attention.

I owed the Starks a lot, their lord in particular. He’d taken me in, allowed me to gain position, a modicum of wealth and knowledge. But as much as I respected him as a man and a lord, he was gods-awful when it came to subterfuge and politics. Spoiled by his distance from the king’s court, and paramount within his own territory, Stark had allowed whatever sense he’d ever had for intrigue to atrophy. I could at the very least stay sober enough to have his back in whatever way possible.

Most of the way through the meal I saw Jon storm out of the hall after talking with Benjen Stark, Eddard’s brother and a Ranger with the Night’s Watch. Jon was sat at the lower tables with landless knights, squires of middling rank and the like, and had been drinking heavily. I laughed heartily at a neighbor’s joke, patted my stomach and stood up.

“On that note, my good sers, I need a piss. If you’ll excuse me,” I announced, pretending to be more in my cups than I was. I then walked out of the hall and looked for Jon outside.

The damned fool had probably been trying to convince Benjen to help him argue on his behalf in Jon’s half-witted desire to freeze his balls off with the Night’s Watch, half of whom were convicts and all of whom swore vows of poverty and chastity. The boy was fifteen still, and even if he was almost sixteen it was still far too early to take life-long oaths. But like all youths, he knew best and had likely reacted poorly to something Benjen said.

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I found Jon talking with Tyrion Lannister, the dwarfish brother to Cersei and Jaime Lannister and at least in theory the heir to the Lannister seat. That was, if his father couldn’t get Jaime released from his vows as a Kingsguard, yet another order with vows of chastity. Honestly, the Westerosi seemed all too fond of those.

Tyrion was playing with Ghost, Jon’s direwolf puppy that he’d rescued some two months prior, and trying to get Jon to see how unreasonable his brooding was. I knew better than to bother with something like that; he was a drunk teenager, after all. Even if he didn’t have legitimate gripes, he’d certainly feel like he did, and to be fair his life was difficult with Catelyn’s hostility. Being a bastard in Westeros was hard, even a lord’s bastard, with the Blackfyres and their rebellion having tainted the concept throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

That was the main reason I’d abstained from sex, after all. I didn’t want my children to have to face that kind of onus, and I wasn’t going to marry and stay there forever. One day, somehow, I’d return home. Marriage would get in the way of that.

After Tyrion left, I approached.

“What’s up, Jon,” I said, patting him on the shoulder and giving him a boost of regeneration to sober him up. I’d been slowly getting them used to my modern expressions. Generally the kids found it amusing, but I didn’t get a response. “Well, if nothing’s up then what’s down?”

Jon snorted. “You’re not funny, you know,” he said, sitting on the ground and ruffling Ghost’s ears.

“And yet I amuse myself,” I said. “Which, in the end, is all that really matters.”

He shot me a dark look. “Come to give me advice too?”

“No,” I said bluntly. He looked a bit taken aback. “My advice is valuable, and you’re in no mood to listen.”

“I suppose I’m not,” Jon admitted. He was a good kid, if a bit full of himself.

“Instead, I came to give you an alternative. Unless I miss my guess, we’re headed to King’s Landing after the king convinces your father to take on the duties of the Hand. And it’s likely I’ll follow your father there. Enter into my service, and come with me as my companion. I’ve enough money to pay you decently, with the stipend your father gave me.”

“I do not need your pity, Oddyseus,” he said despondently.

“Pity?” I repeated. “No, Jon. It’s not pity, or charity. You’re a hard worker, clever, and already better with a sword than most of the fighters here. Most of all, you’re loyal and I know that so long as I remain true to your family, something I have every intention of doing, that you’ll be a true friend to me.”

“If I’m so great, why won’t Uncle Benjen take me with him to the Watch?” he griped.

“Because for all your good qualities, you’re a moody teen and the Wall is full enough of the grim and dour,” I said sarcastically. “You Uncle is doubtless hoping that someone will teach you humor before you end up there. Ah, there we go, I saw your lips twitch.”

“You’re still not funny, Odds,” he said.

“Well maybe you can help me with that too then. So what do you say?” I extended my arm.

After a moment’s consideration he took it. “But this isn’t forever,” he said. “If in a year or two, I still want to join the Watch, you’ll let me.”

“Of course,” I replied with a grin. “If after a couple of years I can’t convince you that it would be better to stay part of civilization, that your family can use you better here than there, then you can join the Watch with my blessing. Though I’ll follow you the whole way there trying to convince you otherwise.”

Jon laughed softly. “Thank you, Odds.”

“No, Jon. Thank you.”

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The next afternoon I went in search of Lord Stark to give him the news. I found him in his solar with King Robert, drinking and chatting.

“Ah, my lord, Your Grace, I hope I’m not interrupting,” I said after entering.

“No, no, I’m monopolizing Ned’s time enough as it is. He still has a keep to run, after all,” Robert said boisterously. “And who might you be?”

“This is Odysseus Gangari, Robert,” Lord Stark said.

“Ah, the traveler who found his way to the Godswood!” the king boomed. He’d obviously never gotten the trick to the inside voice. “Eddard’s told me all about you. Apparently you’re the one who figured out how to reduce Winterfell’s taxes?”

Ah, shit. Hopefully he wasn’t upset about that. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good, good. Ned’s always been too honorable for that sort of thing, but when everyone else does it then it just means he ends up getting taken advantage of. Hell, I barely pay attention to my Master of Coin, and I still know at least that much.”

“May I say that is quite an enlightened attitude, Your Grace,” I said smiling.

“Ha! Enlightened, he says. I like that,” he laughed, smiling. “No, you keep serving your Lord faithfully and you will be just fine as far as I’m concerned, Odysseus. Gods know he spends enough time looking after everyone else that he needs more people to look after him.”

I couldn’t help myself, and burst into laughter. He might not be a good king, but I was definitely liking Robert as a man. “Indeed, Your Grace. You clearly know our Lord well.”

“This is entirely unfair, Robert. I can’t have you turning my own men against me,” Eddard stated dryly.

“No, no. I wouldn’t dare, Ned. But come, Odysseus. Have a seat. I hear you’re quite the rider, the fastest in the North Ned tells me.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I’m not that good a rider. Rather it’s my horse, Aethon. He’s a wonder. I’d bet every coin I have on him in a race.”

“You’ll have to show him off when we go hunting then. That monster of a dog is yours as well, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“An incredible animal. When I first heard of it I wondered if someone had managed to tame the father of the direwolf pups that the children have.”

“No, Your Grace, Togo’s a Northern Mountain Dog, just one that seems to have grown beyond the bounds of normal dogs in much the same way I suspect that the Mountain grew beyond the bounds of normal men,” I dissembled. “That, or he’s been blessed by the Old Gods,” I said in a somewhat joking tone.

“Still, a most impressive beast. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You had some business with Ned?”

“Yes, thank you Your Grace. My lord,” I said, turning to the Stark, “I’m not sure if Jon’s told you, but he’s agreed to enter my service as my companion for a time. Assuming, of course, that it meets with your approval.”

He looked me in the eyes for a moment, then nodded. “I hadn’t heard yet, but Benjen did tell me that he seemed overly keen to join the Watch. Thank you, Odysseus.”

“No, my lord, you shouldn’t thank me. Jon’s a good lad, and I’m sure I’ll get more work out of him than he does me.”

“Nonetheless. For all that he is not trueborn, he is my son, and I didn’t want him joining the Watch before he was truly an adult. If that was all?”

“Yes, my lord. Your Grace, it was truly a pleasure to meet you,” I said as I rose and bowed.

“Likewise, likewise. And I expect you up bright and early the day after tomorrow, Odysseus. I want to see you, your horse and dog in action for myself.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” I said with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”