Chapter Text
“Friendship—my definition—is built on two things…Respect and trust. Both elements have to be there. And it has to be mutual. You can have respect for someone, but if you don’t have trust, the friendship will crumble.”
Mikael Blomkvist from Steig Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
I. Winterfell
Stannis despised hunts. At least those that involved Robert, for Robert had always jumped at the opportunity to best Stannis in anything that involved more killing than common sense. Robert relished galloping after hounds in hot pursuit and delivering the killing blow to some hapless beast. Also, whenever Robert’s whims told him to bring his hawks along, a mention and derisive laugh about the long-dead goshawk Proudwing was always to be counted upon.
Yes, Stannis very much despised hunts.
Yet I suffer them all the same. Robert wished to spend his last night in Winterfell feasting on wild boar, so everyone who was anyone in the royal party had saddled his horse by dawn to follow their king and Lord Stark to the Wolfswood. Even the Lannister dwarf came along, looking utterly absurd on a fine destrier with a shortsword strapped to his waist. Stannis found himself riding next to Stark, who seemed to be enjoying the hunt as much as himself if the serious and troubled expression on his face was anything to go by.
Why am I in the North again? Jon Arryn hadn’t been dead a day before Robert announced that he was gallivanting off to Winterfell to make dutiful, honorable Ned Stark his next Hand of the King. Stark was going to fix everything! The crown’s debts, the scheming Lannisters, the Targaryen children across the Narrow Sea…Stark would take care of it all! No matter that the Lord of Winterfell hadn’t been to King’s Landing since the Rebellion and rarely involved himself in affairs below the Neck. Naturally, Stannis planned to immediately remove himself to Dragonstone, knowing Lord Arryn’s death had been not been the result of old age. It’s no coincidence that he died a fortnight before telling Robert about Cersei and Jaime Lannister’s incest, and the incestuous bastards formed from their unions.
But Stannis was stopped by Robert before he could board his ship. His presence was required on the trip to Winterfell! Oh yes, Robert had commanded it, claiming that he wanted to be surrounded by family that had no connection to the name Lannister. So, being a dutiful lord and loyal brother, Stannis had acquiesced. Albeit grudgingly.
Stark had barely said a word all morning. Robert either didn’t notice or didn’t care, laughing and joking about the good times the pair was sure to have in King’s Landing. Life would be as carefree as it was in the Eyrie, with the minor exception that Lord Arryn wasn’t there to watch over them. Stannis refrained from saying anything, focusing determinedly on his horse and the woods around him.
“…and then the tourney that will be held in your honor! Knights from all over the South will come for the glory, wanting…” Robert stopped, reaching out to give Stark’s shoulder a jovial squeeze. “Something’s been eating at you all morning, Ned. You’re as serious as Stannis, and your face is as frozen as the statues in your crypts!”
Stark sighed, turning back to Robert with a weak smile. “I simply have a lot on my mind, Your Grace. Travelling to King’s Landing and taking up the responsibilities of Hand are no laughing matter. I’ll be away from most of my family for who knows how long.”
“I envy you, Ned. If only I could leave Cersei and never see her again.”
“But she’s the mother of your children,” replied Stark, confused.
Stannis clenched his hands around his reins as Robert said: “She’s beautiful, aye, but colder than the Wall. She’s no Catelyn. Enough about her! Your daughters will enjoy court.”
“Sansa’s been walking around with a smile on her face for weeks, I’ll grant you that. Arya not so much. Bran keeps asking me when he’ll be able to meet Ser Barristan, and Robb will do his duty well as the Stark in Winterfell. Jon…” Stark sighed again. “I fear Jon is making a foolish decision, but I haven’t the heart to stop him.”
“Does he want to marry some comely wench?” said Robert with a grin.
Stark’s eyes grew wide. “Marry? He’s only fourteen!”
“I remember what I was like at fourteen! So carefree!” came Robert’s wistful reply.
Yes, thought Stannis, your life was even more carefree before we saw our parents drown, helpless to do anything about it.
Stark shook his head, still staring at Robert. “Jon wishes to join the Night’s Watch. If he had come to me as a man, I would’ve given him my blessing, but he’s only a boy and experienced and seen so little of the world. I worry that he’ll come to regret his choice, and by then he’ll be bound by vows never to leave the Wall.”
“That’s what has gotten you worried, old friend?” Robert laughed. “Surely you can convince him of something else! Send him as a ward with one of your bannermen, for bastard born or no, they should take it as an honor to foster one of Lord Stark’s sons!”
Stark shrugged. “I had hoped for Jon to stay at Winterfell with Robb, but Catelyn is insistent that he be gone. Like she always has.”
“Like I said, you shouldn’t worry so, Ned!” Robert looked over Stark to Stannis, and his face lit up. “Forget about fostering him with one of your lords, send him to squire for Stannis!”
Stannis ground his teeth, willing for Robert to stop speaking and become distracted by something else. Haven’t those hounds scented a boar yet? Unfortunately, Robert continued on, having decided that his solution was beyond brilliant.
“He’ll get to see King’s Landing and learn all about the pleasures found in the South! Let him fuck a girl and learn what it’s like to be warm for once in his life—gods know that would do you a world of good. Besides, Stannis doesn’t have any sons of his own. Perhaps the presence of a young man on his miserable island will finally show him the way to his wife’s bed!”
Stannis clenched his reins even harder, though for an entirely different reason than before. His horse shook its head, agitated, but Stannis didn’t notice the animal’s discomfort until it suddenly reared on its hind legs and nearly threw him off. That caused Robert to shut up, and Stark was looking between them with an expression half surprise and half sympathy. Stannis swore as he regained control of his horse, deciding then and there that he was done with the hunt.
“Lord Stark,” Stannis began, inclining his head. “My apologies, but I must return to the castle as my horse has injured its foot.”
“By all means, Lord Stannis,” replied Stark after a long pause, with an equally formal nod of his head.
Stannis turned his horse around and galloped away before Robert could say anything more, ignoring the bewildered looks given to him by the rest of the hunting party. Stark could likely see through his flimsy excuse, for Stannis’ horse wasn’t injured, at least not that he could tell. I will not subject myself to Robert’s ridicule, propriety be damned. For all that I’ve done for Robert, the least he can do is show me a small measure of respect!
Upon reaching Winterfell, Stannis rode through the main gate and handed his horse to a confused looking groom in the stables. As an afterthought, Stannis requested that the horse be checked for injuries, lest anyone apart from Stark and Robert inquire after his sudden departure from the hunting party. He needed time to think, to think and get his emotions in check, emotions that had been frayed ever since Jon Arryn had drawn his last breath. Many men in Stannis’ situation would’ve headed straight for a tavern or whorehouse or even a sept—but Stannis had always despised drinking, avoided whores, and stayed clear of robed fools prattling on and on about the goodness of gods who likely didn’t exist to begin with.
Ultimately, Stannis made his way to Winterfell’s godswood. It was always a peaceful place, so silent that a man could hear the wind rustling through the trees and leaves falling softly to the ground. It was almost as soothing as the sound of the sea, especially the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks below Storm’s End.
Silence…Stannis had almost made it to the heart tree and the warm pool beneath it when he heard laughter followed by a series of splashes. He was not the only one to seek out the solace of the godswood, apparently. When Stannis saw the source of the laughter, careful to keep himself hidden behind some young weirwoods, he stifled a groan. Two direwolf pups, one grey and one white, chased each other around the pool while their masters sat skipping rocks. The girl was wearing a grey dress with a liberal amount of mud splattered all over the hem, and her dark brown hair was done in a long braid that had long since come undone. Arya, that’s the girl’s name, the Stark daughter who always runs around with dirty dresses and messy hair. She won’t enjoy the court at King’s Landing, much as Stark insinuated. I can barely stand it. The young man next to her had the same dark hair, and Stannis only had to take one glance at his face to know who he was.
I ride away from Robert’s insults brought about by Jon Snow only to come face to face with him. Stannis had never personally spoken with the boy, but there was no mistaking how much he resembled Ned Stark in both looks and manner. In fact, Jon was the only one of Stark’s sons to share his look. Rather like Robert and his bastards, but from what Stannis had seen of Lord and Lady Stark, he rather doubted that Lady Stark was cuckolding her husband. The Starks had done their best to hide Jon away during the visit, from not presenting him at the welcoming feast to forbidding him from the practice yard when Cersei’s children and the Kingsguard were present.
Stannis watched Jon reach out a hand to ruffle his sister’s hair, to her obvious delight. The longer Stannis looked at Jon, the more he saw Ned Stark, the man Robert had professed again and again to be the true brother he always wanted but never had. What did it matter if the boy wanted to join the Night’s Watch? Ned Stark’s own brother had taken the Black, and Benjen Stark seemed as satisfied with his life as any man. Just as there had always been a Stark in Winterfell, Stannis was willing to bet that there had always been a Stark on the Wall, true or bastard born. If the Wall is his choice, let him make it and face the consequences.
Stannis decided to stay and watch the pair, having nothing else better to do and no desire to be around anyone still in the castle.
Arya was trying to make stones skip across the pool, but not having the same success as her brother, she tossed the whole pile of stones she had collected straight into the water. Her brother raised his eyebrows.
“It’s not fair! I can ride as well as Robb, yet I’m not allowed on the hunt!”
“It’s not about riding, little sister,” said Jon, reaching out to ruffle her hair again. “Royal hunts aren’t the place for girls, especially she-wolves.”
“Are you mad that you’re not on the hunt right now?”
“Me? And miss spending time with Prince Joffrey?”
“Sansa says that you’re jealous of him.”
Jon gave a snort. “Of course Sansa would say that. She thinks he’s her Florian from the songs. I stand by what I told you before: Joffrey is truly a little shit.”
The grey wolf pup barked in response, and the white one twitched its ears as if he could understand exactly what was being said.
“See? Even Nymeria agrees with me! Ghost would too if only he could howl.”
He’s not wrong, mused Stannis. Jon and Arya continued in the same manner for quite some time, and Stannis was surprised by the easy rapport between the two. If only things had been this easy between Robert and I, or even with Renly. Stannis watched as Arya jumped up and grabbed a stick, adopting what she probably thought was a warrior’s stance.
“I’m Queen Nymeria of the Rhoyne!”
Jon followed suit, raising a stick of his own. “I’m the Young Dragon, King Daeron Targaryen!”
Arya was clearly outmatched, though Jon did his best to pretend that it was a fair fight. He grinned like a fool as Arya determinedly tried to hit him with her stick. The wolves followed the fight, and after a time the grey wolf jumped and grabbed Jon’s stick, causing him to bow to his sister in defeat.
“It seems like I’m no match for Nymeria, whether queen or wolf.”
If only Shireen had a brother or a friend like Jon. With her scared face and quiet manner, she fits in with others as much as Arya with her muddy clothes and swordfights. Patchface is far from an ideal companion, and Davos’ sons are too formal with her. Not that I blame them.
Stannis sighed and started making his way back to the castle. If Robert hadn’t speared a boar by now, he’d likely convinced Stark to send Jon off to Dragonstone with Stannis, for once Robert got an idea stuck in his mind he rarely let it go. Perhaps the idea wasn’t such a terrible one. Stannis had agreed to foster Jon Arryn’s only son and heir, after all, before Lysa Arryn and little Robert had fled to the Eyrie. Ned Stark was no friend like Lord Arryn had been, but he was a good man who always did his duty and took responsibility for his actions—such as acknowledging his bastard and seeing Jon educated to the same extent as his heir. The boy didn’t seem a bad sort, if how he talked and played with his sister was any indication.
His mind made up, Stannis resolved to talk with Ned Stark once the hunting party returned. If Jon Snow is to squire for me, it will be on my terms rather than Robert’s.
~
Jon was currently sitting in Winterfell’s main courtyard, Ghost silently at his side. The whole castle had been in a somber mood since Bran’s fall, and the king’s departure back to King’s Landing had been delayed indefinitely. Jon was still trying to work up the courage to visit Bran on his sickbed, for Lady Stark hadn’t left her son’s side in days. Bran’s still your brother, no matter what Lady Stark might wish. And I’ll soon be facing greater dangers than Catelyn Stark.
Jon was anxious to get to the Wall. Like the king, Benjen Stark had delayed departing Winterfell. Jon assumed that he was to go with him, as father hadn’t openly denied his request to take the Black. But father hadn’t given his blessing either, something Jon desperately wished for. A nod and a smile from the man he admired most was all Jon needed to feel certain that he was making the right choice. For what other options do I have? I have no inheritance, and baseborn children are despised and distrusted all across Westeros. A bastard might never be the Lord of Winterfell, but he can rise to be Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.
“Jon!” A voice from behind broke Jon out of his reverie. He turned his head to see Jory, his father’s Captain of the Guard, smiling down at him.
“Hello, Jory. Do you need my help with anything?”
“No, but Lord Stark wishes to see you in his solar.”
“He does?” asked Jon, his mood lightening. Father had spent the better part of the last few days at Bran’s bedside and, strangely, arguing with King Robert. Perhaps now he’ll give me his blessing to go to the Wall.
“Straight away, if you can,” replied Jory.
Jon got to his feet, straightening his tunic and brushing off his leggings. Ghost made to follow him, but Jon commanded him to stay. “Go play with your brothers and sisters,” he said, ruffling the direwolf’s white fur. Jon took the stairs leading up to his father’s solar two at a time, and was bid to enter the room at first knock. However, he immediately sensed that this meeting would not be about what he wished it to be.
For father was not alone.
Father was sitting in his usual chair behind his desk, hands folded calmly in front of him. Next to him was Lord Stannis, sitting straight backed in a hard wooden chair, arms crossed and mouth set in a thin line. His dark blue eyes were hard as they stared at him intently, following Jon’s every move. Jon was puzzled at the presence of King Robert’s brother, for he had never spoken with him or had any reason to interact with him. Jon had observed that Stannis mostly kept to himself and enjoyed the feasts and revelry held in the king’s honor even less than Queen Cersei.
“Father, Lord Stannis,” greeted Jon with a stiff bow.
“Sit down, son,” said his father warmly, gesturing to an empty chair in front of the desk. Lord Stannis didn’t say a word, and his stern expression didn’t change.
“I called you here to discuss your wish to join the Night’s Watch,” began father.
Jon waited.
“The Night’s Watch is an honorable calling, but even your Uncle Benjen had seen more namedays than you before swearing his vows. I want you to experience more from life before going to the Wall, and as Lord of Winterfell I do have the means for you to explore other paths.”
Jon fought to keep his face straight, for it wouldn’t do to let his disappointment show.
“So you’re forbidding me to go to the Wall, then?”
“No,” said father, his lord’s face now in place. “I would never forbid a man such a thing. But I am advising you against going there right now.”
When Jon didn’t reply right away, Lord Stark softened his face back to father’s. “The Wall will always be there, son.”
“That’s the same thing that Uncle Benjen said,” said Jon dejectedly, looking at his boots.
“He’s right.”
“What shall I do, then? What…” How did father word it? “What other paths would you have me take?”
“Another option has presented itself, one that I suggest you seriously consider.”
“Get on with it, Lord Stark,” said Stannis impatiently. Jon had almost forgotten that the lord was in the room. Father glanced at Stannis with his eyebrows raised, but there was no trace of irritation in his expression.
“Lord Stannis has agreed to foster you on Dragonstone, where you will also serve as his squire. I have many fond memories of my years in the Eyrie under the care of Lord Jon Arryn, who taught me how to be a just and honorable ruler. You can learn much from Lord Stannis, and perhaps many years from now, when you’ve proven yourself worthy, he’ll grant you a knighthood.”
Jon stared at both men, thrown off by his father’s words. The situation was entirely unexpected, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. True, father had presented going to Dragonstone as a choice, but Jon wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he actually had one.
There’s no way that I can politely refuse this. Stannis Baratheon isn’t some lowly hedge knight, but one of the most powerful lords of the realm with a seat on the Small Council. Not to mention a renowned battle commander and King Robert’s own brother. Jon wondered how father had convinced Stannis, for he had gotten the impression that Stannis didn’t care for father at all, despite them always acting civil toward each other. What honor was there in a high lord taking a bastard as a squire? Still, the prospect of a knighthood…
“May I take my direwolf with me?” Jon didn’t know what compelled him to ask that question among all the others spinning about in his mind, but he did know that wherever he went it was necessary that Ghost come with him.
Father didn’t say anything and looked to Stannis, who shrugged. “I don’t see why not. However, the wolf will be your responsibility. You will be responsible for feeding and seeing to its welfare, and if it harms someone I expect you to deal with it like any man would a rabid hound.”
That’s fair enough. Stannis’ conditions were much the same as those that father had laid out the day Jon, Robb, and Bran had found the direwolf pups.
Jon bit his lip, looking between father and Stannis. There really wasn’t much else for him to say. He knew that he should feel honored, but he hadn’t quite gotten over his shock at father not allowing him to go to the Wall. Uncle Benjen and the Night’s Watch had been in his thoughts for months. Jon took a deep breath and met Stannis’ eyes. “I accept your offer, Lord Stannis. I thank you for your generosity, and I promise that you won’t come to regret it.”
“That’s settled then,” responded Stannis, waving away Jon’s words and rising from his chair.
Jon turned to address father. “Will I be traveling to King’s Landing with you then, father?”
“No. I have decided against becoming the next Hand of the King.”
That was certainly news to Jon, but he immediately saw that his surprise was nowhere near that of Stannis’, given the stunned and incredulous expression that suddenly appeared on the lord’s face.
“You can’t be serious, Lord Stark.”
“You’d be surprised at what I can and can’t be, Lord Stannis.”
Stannis sat back down, shaking his head and letting out a harsh laugh.
“You haven’t told Robert.”
Father frowned. “Not officially, but I have expressed my doubts to him since my son’s accident.”
Stannis continued to laugh, and Jon was rather disturbed by the sound. “To say he’ll be unhappy is an understatement.”
“Robert asked me to be his Hand, he didn’t command me.”
“Our noble king has never learned the fine distinction between ask and command.”
“Winterfell is my home, and my duty is to the North,” said father resolutely. “The South has not been kind to my family and I, and one of my sons may not live to see the morrow. There is unrest beyond the Wall, where my brother Benjen believes something sinister is stirring. As well…” he paused, looking over to Jon, “there have been disturbing signs. Have you heard the story about how my children came to have direwolf pups, Lord Stannis?”
Stannis shook his head. “No, but by all means humor me.”
“The mother direwolf had killed a stag, but the stag had repaid her with an antler through the throat. Her pups, four male and two female, same as the children I raised, were abandoned. I fear that something similar might happen if I go south as Hand of the King, and that the Old Gods are trying to warn me.”
Jon had never thought about the direwolf pups in such away. No doubt his father was speaking in earnest about the Old Gods, and it got him to wonder if there was anything significant about Ghost being found separate from his siblings, making his own way alone…Stannis had momentarily closed his eyes, incredulous expression still intact. He muttered something under his breath in a derisive tone that sounded suspiciously like the gods.
“Can you understand my reasoning?” continued father.
“Well enough,” replied Stannis, but it seemed to Jon that he thought father had gone slightly insane. “But it isn’t me you need to convince, Lord Stark. It matters—” there was a slight pause, “—not to me if you choose to be Hand or to chase snarks and grumkins at the Wall. Be thankful for guest right, or else Robert would likely call for your head to be put on a spike.”