Chương 21: The Father

298 AC Eddard Stark's POV Standing atop the battlements of Winterfell, I observed the courtyard below, listening to the sounds that filled the air. A sharp northern wind cut past me, sending a chill deep into my bones, and I sensed that this year would be colder than the last, that soon this long summer would end. The heavy grey sky loomed overhead, my hands resting on the cold stone, fingers tracing the familiar grooves worn by time and weather.

The castle was filled with life — servants bustling about, guards training in the yard, the castle's hounds barking in the distance. But my thoughts weren't on the daily workings of Winterfell. They were on my son, Robb — my dedicated Robb. It had been about a year and a half since a rearing horse struck Robb down, leaving him broken on the frozen ground. I still felt the dread that had seized me then, the flash of helplessness, terror gripping me at the thought of losing another loved one.

I had knelt beside him in the yard, watching his paling, unmoving body, praying to the Old Gods for mercy, for his life, the life of my firstborn. I prayed so fervently that I didn't leave the godswood for nearly a full day, begging them to spare Robb's life and grant him their healing and blessings, until my loyal friends Jory and Vayon convinced me to check on Robb and my wife. Robb had been so still, so pale, a boy teetering on the edge of manhood and death.

But he had survived, and since then he had risen more decisive and more resolute than I could have imagined for an heir of my house. The change in Robb was striking, especially given the short span of time. He had grown nearly to my own height, his shoulders broader, his frame filled with a strength that seemed almost too much for his years. He had become the best warrior in the North, defeating men twice or even thrice his age, sometimes fighting multiple opponents at once.

A thin, pale scar now marked his left cheekbone, a mark he'd carried since besting the Thenn Magnar in single combat before the Wall — a permanent reminder for my son that even his victories, however easily they seemed to come, were not always won without cost. I recalled clasping his shoulder the day he rode back through Winterfell's gates with that wound still freshly stitched, telling him plainly that a scar earned defending his oath was nothing to hide, whatever his mother might fret over it.

He'd only grinned and said it would give the smallfolk something to talk about besides the giants. Some of the guards, and even my own Catelyn, had said she didn't care if he lived up to his namesake; she just missed her boy.. But truly, his combat abilities reminded me more of Ser Arthur Dayne, whom I had seen and fought in person at that dreaded tower from my nightmares.

Robb had also devised better training routines that made him look and act like a captain, long before Jory had even come to me about Robb's request for personal responsibility and leadership over a group of men. As a result, he stood out in the yard, a figure that drew attention wherever he went. But it wasn't just Robb's body that had transformed; his mind had sharpened as well. His words now carried a weight and wisdom that made me question his age, and my own.

Robb spoke of the North with a passion I recognized, envisioning a future I could only hope to help shape and witness. He had ideas for fostering the development of other noble children, and for helping his own siblings grow in spirit as well as in body. That he could support all his siblings while still training and learning himself was nothing short of remarkable; even Luwin said most of his peers wouldn't have picked up the Old Tongue as well as he had in such a short time.

Robb's bonds with the servants, his care for the household and for Winterfell, made me proud too. He took his duties more seriously than many grown lords, men who often considered only what they could take rather than what they could give. The respect he'd earned from everyone in the castle wasn't only because he was my heir and their next lord, but because of his own reputation. It was heartwarming to see, especially given his studious nature and the wisdom he'd gained from Maester Luwin himself.

Robb even thanked me for the idea of dining with a new guard or servant at least once a week, to learn of the goings-on and check in with the household more closely. And by the Old Gods, when I listened to Robb speak the Old Tongue, it always sent a shiver down my spine, making me feel almost inadequate as a lord, given my own upbringing in the Vale. Robb seemed to embody the Northern traditions effortlessly, sometimes grasping them more easily than I ever did myself.

My thoughts drifted back to the evening Robb had led the Thenns and giants into the clearing on their way to the Stony Shore. I recalled Jory's report of the spectacle at the gates of Castle Black. Though I hadn't been present when Robb first guided them through the tunnel back to the Wall, it was said to be a sight to behold, one of pure legend.

Later, when I met them myself along the path to the Stony Shore, where they'd give me their oaths, I was struck by the legendary scene before me — hulking figures with shaggy hair and massive limbs, kneeling as if I were some king of old, the kind my brothers Benjen, Brandon, and I had once pretended to be as children. The Thenns, fierce and proud, had agreed to follow me and obey Stark and Westerosi law, their bronze axes gleaming in the pale light.

I was still unsure how, or when, Robb had first conceived this idea, though it likely predated his learning of the Old Tongue. I recognized the potential to strengthen the North and relieve some pressure on the Wall.

In brokering that alliance, I saw the promise of uniting the North with its ancient kin — a feat I would never have attempted myself, yet Robb had accomplished it with a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt, his own steadfast studying lending me the strength to push through my own halting grasp of the language. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Father," the very object of my thoughts called, pulling me from my reverie. I turned to see Robb ascending the steps, his warrior-cut auburn hair catching the faint light breaking through the clouds. Hedwig, the snow owl who'd become his constant companion, perched on his shoulder, yellow eyes fixed on me with an almost knowing gaze. Robb's stride was confident, and in that simple moment he resembled some old Stark king emerging from the crypts of Winterfell itself.

"Robb," I said, nodding in greeting.

"Can I help you?" Robb smiled faintly as he joined me at the battlement's edge.

"No, Father. I just saw you up here and wondered what could have you in such deep thought." I studied my son, noting the determination etched into his young face.

"I've been thinking of a certain heir to a northern house, whose abilities rival those of all who came before him," I said.

"Can I take a guess at who it is?" Robb replied, his tone steady, a wolfish smirk on his face. I felt a swell of pride tempered by a father's mirth. Robb had always been dutiful and kind, but now there was something more, a fire burning bright within him. I recalled our late-night talks in the godswood, where he'd outlined plans to bolster the mountain clans, revive the Old Tongue, and prepare for threats like future kings beyond the Wall, and food shortages come the harder winters.

On his latest name day, Robb had even asked to spend all his savings, and any future gifts, on a few ships from House Manderly, meaning to send them all the way to Yi Ti for a food he'd discovered in some book while studying with Maester Luwin. He believed it could help feed the North, even through the harshest winters — a long grain called rice, known by many different names depending who you asked.

Robb was convinced that if the North could acquire it, House Reed might grow it in the Neck, which could help, if not eliminate, our winter food troubles entirely. I wasn't sure what could thrive in those marshes, but Robb's confidence and determination to help the North won me over, and I even added a bit more than what he'd saved himself. Each conversation with him revealed a mind that saw further, and planned further ahead, than I could ever have expected.

"You've grown, Robb," I said, my voice softening.

"Not just in height, though the gods know you've shot up like a stalk — you're stronger, smarter, more of a man than I could have hoped to be at your age." Robb glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his blue-grey eyes.

"Thank you, Father. But I still have much to learn — especially from you. What you and Robert accomplished at your age, overthrowing the Mad King, beating the Sword of the Morning… I think you give yourself too little credit, Father, for the legend I have to live up to." I shook my head slightly. Always so humble, Robb.

"In some ways you've surpassed what I could teach you. The way you handled the Thenns and the giants, and the meeting with Lord Umber and Karstark, was impressive. You turned Greatjon into an ally instead of an enemy, and earned no small measure of his respect for it. You've helped Vayon Poole, and much of the household and the guards besides, and you got Theon thinking seriously about his future, and Jon to stop brooding. I laughed with him about that." Robb shrugged, a faint flush of pride coloring his cheeks.

"I spoke to both of them as equals and showed them what we could gain by working together, now and in the future."

"And you've shown that," I said.

"Everyone sees it — the lords, the smallfolk, even the giants. You're becoming a true leader the North can rely on." Robb looked out over the courtyard, his expression thoughtful.

"I hope so. But I couldn't do it without you, Father. Your guidance, your trust — that's what lets me make these changes." I placed a hand on Robb's shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath his cloak.

"You've earned that trust, Robb. More than earned it I just wish the rest of my family could have met you and you would have made my own father very proud." We stood in silence for a moment, the wind tugging at our cloaks as I watched Hedwig take off from Robb's shoulder. My mind turned to the warging — the secret Robb had shared with me a few weeks before.

It had been a shock, a bond with Hedwig that went beyond mere companionship and training, a magic Old Nan might have spun stories about, tying back to the old kings of winter and their direwolves. I'd seen the truth of it in Robb's eyes; I'd felt the weight of the Old Gods' touch myself. A gift, or perhaps a burden, but Robb bore it with the same resolve he brought to everything else.

I couldn't help but wonder if my own prayers that day of the accident had something to do with it — if the Old Gods had done more than simply heal my son.

"Robb," I said, my voice low, "this warging… it's a rare thing. A powerful thing. Does it ever trouble you?" Robb hesitated, then nodded.

"Sometimes. It's like a second world opens up — one I can control, but know isn't always stable. Hedwig anchors me, though. Keeps me grounded when I'm in his world." I glanced at the owl, who tilted his head as if aware he was being studied.

"He's a fine companion, and a fine friend. But if it ever becomes too much, you tell me. Promise me that."

"I will," Robb said, meeting my gaze.

"I promise." I nodded, satisfied. I knew I could trust Robb to know his own limits, and to seek help if he needed it. But that trust didn't erase the quiet worry lingering in my heart. Robb was changing so quickly this past year, growing into a man of greatness before my very eyes. I was proud — gods, I was proud — but I couldn't shake the fear of what that greatness might cost him. I didn't want to lose any more of his family.

As we descended the steps together, I watched Robb move with a grace and strength that seemed so calm, so assured. The boy I had raised was still there, evident in the warmth of his smile, the loyalty in his heart. But the man he was becoming was something more than just the leader he'd shown himself to be — he was a force not to be taken lightly. A Stark in every sense. And I knew then, with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified me, that Robb was destined for something extraordinary.