Chapter Text
As was the case in the Red Keep from time to time, the whole court stood ready to receive their visitors and petitioners. Granted, it was not expected to be a happy visit. For years, the king had been receiving news of the happenings in the North, Brennard Stark refusing to resign the regency, being seized by his nephew Cregan Stark, his family’s outage, trouble at the Wall, it seemed endless. When the troublesome news did come to an end, Otto Hightower recommended the king be appraised personally and any necessary measures to be taken to ensure the North’s security. That is to say, Otto Hightower wished to see by what means he could do away with the North’s semi-independence and exert control over the Northern Houses but did not wish to be so obvious as to not have the king present while he did it. By rights, as Hand of the King, any needed tasks would fall to him, King Viserys being in declining health. Eagerly, Otto waited behind the throne, the king struggling to sit upright in order to cut a regal figure.
To their left, Helaena stood with her mother and brothers. She had forgotten how many years it had been since she had seen a Northman, but it had been quite a few. Perhaps it was that Mormont boy who came to fight in the melee for Aegon’s nameday. Or was that a Marbrand, a Mallister, maybe? She was bored, bored and achy. Her stomach hurt again and she didn’t know why, plus her sides were biting into the sides of her feet. Even though she had been bored this morning sitting in her chamber, she missed it and wanted to go back.
“Mother, when are the Northerners coming?”
Aegon snapped at her in a whisper “will you be quiet?? The Warden of the North won’t want to hear your chatter, or notice your presence, for that matter.”
Alicent smacked the back of his head “Aegon, that’s enough! Just be patient, Helaena, it’ll be any time now.”
Indeed, moments later, the great doors slowly swung open. “Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell!” In he walked, followed by half a dozen other lords. He was just barely one and twenty, well-built and clad in rough black cloth and fur, sporting dark brown hair down to just below his jawline and a closely cropped beard. His hair was slightly dampened with sweat, the southern summer not agreeing with him. Coming to a halt about 20 paces from the throne, he gave a courteous bow. “Your Grace” he said simply.
Viserys grunted as he again adjusted his posture then cleared his throat “welcome, Lord Stark. We have been waiting…with much anticipation for your arrival. I trust your journey was smooth?”
He nodded “reasonably so, my king. We had hoped to arrive one week ago but were delayed prior to reaching the Neck. The North’s weather has often been volatile, but it is growing increasingly so lately.”
“We are sorry to hear that…” Viserys responded. He sighed and reclined in the throne, giving Otto the opportunity to take over proceedings.
“So, my lord” he began “according to intelligences we have received these past several months, it has been a reeling time for your people.”
“It has, lord hand, to say nothing of my…familial conflicts, the Wall is faced with an increasing number of wildlings every year and fewer men to beat them back. And as I already mentioned, the weather threatens to place us in the throes of famine.”
Otto stepped forward slightly and continued “yes, well, your familial conflicts are of great concern to us. It does not bode well when there is trouble at the Wall and House Stark stands divided against itself.”
“I assure you, my lord, my family’s division has now been put to rest.” While Otto continued to speak on the crown’s concerns, Cregan, feeling slightly insulted, surveyed the room.
Looking towards the king’s family, he caught Helaena staring at him, to which she quickly looked in the opposite direction and seemed suddenly fascinated with the architecture of the wall. She didn’t like being looked at in the eye l, especially by a stranger. Immediately after, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond stared back at him, probably suspecting Cregan was sizing them up. Not intending to give offense, he set his eyes forward again.
“…you are a widower, are you not, Lord Cregan?”
Being brought back to the present moment, he affirmed “that is correct, my lord.”
“And your son stands to inherit after you as your only child?”
“Also correct, my lord hand.” Otto glanced at his granddaughter and began to formulate yet another plot. He figured this was going to be easy. Otto dispensed with another half dozen questions on the realm he was the custodian of and then dismissed him and prepared to confer with the king.
Turning towards his close friend, Lord Cerwyn, Cregan whispered to him “so those were the king’s children?”
Lord Cerwyn nodded at him “aye, most of ‘em. The one lad is Aegon, absolute disgrace. Aemond is other one with the missing eye, and the girl Helaena, is simple. The king’s eldest daughter isn’t here, she’s on Dragonstone with her….uncle-husband. They say it was her child that took Aemond’s eye and the youngest is in Oldtown with his mother’s family.”
Cregan replied “hmm, how do you know all this?”
Lord Cerwyn was confused “you told me to find out when we got here so you wouldn’t be caught under-informed, remember?”
Cregan teased “aye, I remember. I was asking because I didn’t realize the gods put a brain in your head suddenly.” He laughed it off and they departed the throne room.