"Arya come on!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

The youngest daughter of House Stark quickly pulled the length of rope she was using to play tug with from Berena's mouth. Her direwolf was always eager to roughhouse in the morning and Arya saw no reason to deny her.

She stopped to pick up her skirts, a concession to her mother for the length of Sansa's celebrations in exchange for extra riding lessons. She threw open the door and saw Bran already making his way down the hall, Summer at his heels.

She followed him down the steps and out of the keep, her family stood arrayed in the courtyard. Beorn jogged up and took both Berena and Summer with him into the Godswood with the rest of the Direwolves as not to frighten the guests or cause an accident with their mounts.

Upon coming into view, her mother ushered her into line between Bran and Sansa. Arya looked around to see Jon standing with Jory Cassel and Ser Rodrik behind them. Jon gave her a quick smile and a wink before the cry of a guard stole her attention.

"Riders approach Lord Stark!"

"What banners do they fly?" Her father called back.

"The Giant of Last Hearth and the Sun of Karhold!"

True to the man's word, through the gates came two large parties of warriors, men and women. The stable boys rushed forward to help clear the steeds out of the way while the rest of the servants hurried to the wagons that followed.

Her father walked forward to greet the two men at the heads of the column. One was huge, as tall as Walder the stablehand. Arya knew he was Jon Umber, the Greatjon as Father called him. They said that the Umbers had giant's blood in their veins and hearing Greatjon boom as he bowed and embraced her father she could believe it.

Next was a Lord with the white sun of the Karstarks proudly sewn on his cloak with a seal skin draped over it. Arya vaguely remembered meeting Lord Rickard years ago but she'd been more interested in playing than meeting her father's vassals. He had a long and narrow face like father but the customary blue-grey eyes of the Karstarks. His greetings were more subdued but still warm.

These were the men that had marched with Father twice, once to King's Landing and again to the Iron Islands. Arya perked up when she saw there were more than boring old men with them.

"Ned, you;ve me wife Tyla, my heir Smalljon." The Lord of Last Hearth introduced, "my younger one, Edwyle, and my oldest daughter Oma."

Arya could hardly believe anyone could call the man "small", he was nearly as tall as his father! His other children were large as well. Smalljon couldn't have been much older than Robb but his huge red beard made up for it. Oma looked about the same age as her brother but Edwyle seemed closer to Sansa despite still being nearly as tall.

"It it is a pleasure to have you here Jon. I'll let you get yourselves settled but you must join me for a drink before the feast."

Greatjon only laughed and made some jape about drinking before the sun had even set and then followed a servant into the castle. Catelyn took the time to greet Tyla Umber and make plans to meet once her household was settled.

The Karstarks stepped forward next, two boys and a girl stood next to their father.

"My sons Torrhen and Eddard, and my daughter Alys."

She saw her father smile at his namesake and greeted all three politely.

"Winterfell will be glad to have you. You've grown since I last saw you Lady Alys."

She saw Alys blush and her gaze darted from Father to Robb as she thanked him.

"Lady Jarra is not with you?"

"She sends her best wishes but before we left she took a bad fall and couldn't make the journey."

"A pity. I'd like you to join me before we dine as well Rickard. I'm sure Robb and Sansa can ensure the children all arrive in one piece."

Chuckling Rickard followed their guide into the castle. The carts had for the most part been cleared and Arya hoped that would be it for the day, standing around was so boring. It was not to be. She was allowed to go with Bran and Rickon to the Godswoods for a break before being called back sparingly to greet the other guests.

Winterfell was soon packed with Cerwyns, Flints, Brooks, Halfans, Willows, Tallharts and beyond that each had a handful of minor Masterly Houses in their company. Most of them had been waiting in Winter Town, having arrived early but postponing their arrival until the Umbers and Karstarks arrived. Before the afternoon was done Arya's home was filled with men and women preparing for the festivities.

"Arya?"

"Yes Mother?"

"Thank you for your attentiveness." Catelyn leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "At dinner you and Bran will be sitting with the other children, I want you to be polite and get to know them."

Arya sighed, "I will Mother." she was about to ask if Jon would be sitting with them but she didn't want to ruin what goodwill she'd built up. She gave a quick hug and then rushed off with Bran to the Godswood. Dinner might not be so bad, she just hoped their visitors had some good stories.

/

"To the North."

All three Lords took a drink of their wine.

"I can't tell you how glad I was to get your letter Ned. It's always good to see your face."

"It's good to see you too Jon, how have things been?" Ned asked.

The Greatjon took another drink, his lips twisting. "Good Ned. The summer so far has been productive and for the most part my people are happy. They'll be shocked when I come back with news of those wolves. I nearly shat myself when that big one - what was his name?"

"Maw."

"Aye, when Maw came up to you. Thought you were gonna lose a leg."

Ned laughed, "Maw is slow to anger, though if you see him running you best get out of the way fast. He can tackle a buck at full sprint with ease."

"They might have to start calling you the Brave Wolf Ned." Rickard added.

Ned turned to his distant kinsman, "How fares Karhold?"

"It fairs well. Fishing has been good and Braavos have gained an interest in our seal skins. Trade has been small but rewarding."

"That is good news, I've heard from the Manderlys that the Sea Lord is interested in creating some kind of new fashion. He's scouring the world for inspiration, or so rumors say."

They made small talk for a little longer, recalled old stories spoke of their past battles. The conversation turned to the Shepherds.

"That boy, Beorn, has he been good to you Ned? My man, Yarrick, has his doubts about him."

"Meddin is the bald one?"

"He's been the Shepherd of the Last Hearth since Mors was born, he's not the smartest man I've ever met but has a good head and knows how to swing a sword."

"Well have no worries, I wouldn't trade Beorn for another. He's been an immense help, ensuring that I learn what my father never had time to teach."

"I don't want to seem rude Ned," Rickard interjected. "but when I told the Shepherds in Hilltop that there was one of them in Winterfell the ladies were overjoyed. They were of the opinion that the Starks had gone too long without counsel from naught but Maesters."

"You don't have any Shepherds in Karhold?"

Rickard shook his head. "They've always resided in Hilltop to be closer to the fishing towns and herders, three or four at a time."

"It seems that every Shepherd is different."

"That is the way of it Ned. They're not Maesters or Septons, all taught in one place from the same book. My father once said that Shepherds grow to fit where they are needed. The ones who serve noble houses know the ways of court and manners, but I tell you the Shepherds of the Mountain Clans could talk for days on the ways of hunting but can't read a letter."

"Beorn told me there are Shepherds even among the Wildlings?"

Greatjon grumbled, "I may hate those raiding scum with all my heart but they follow the Old Gods and the Shepherds have always been clear on that. Thankfully they know well enough to put aside that tenant when need comes. I've killed my fair share of green clad pillagers who've climbed the Wall."

"How can you trust any of them Jon? If you know they share a profession with savages?"

"I can't speak for others but we Umbers ensure that our Shepherds are in some ways kin. Mors' second son has already gone to Skagos to learn from some of our cousins there. If his letters are true the young man's got his eye on a woman as well."

"Beorn mentioned a friend of his came from Umber blood."

They both looked to Rickard next.

"There is a reason ours are mostly women who live outside our Seat."

"Do either of you know what Roose Bolton uses his Shepherd for?"

"The Boltons… are Boltons and rumors are rumors as the Greatjon can attest. Some tell the Boltons keep theirs as jailers. Darker tongues say that Bolton Shepherds are the finest leather workers in the North for they've had lots of practice."

None of them wished to continue that train of thought.

Ned was calling upon both his own experiences and the writings in the vault for handling this situation, the first test of his new motivation. He knew that to make headway with any of his ideas he would need the support of the two men before him.

"Would you say I have been a good Lord my friends?"

His question caught them off guard, glancing uncertainty at him, Rickard answered first. "I would say so Ned. You've kept the North together and led us through two wars. You're father would be proud."

Greatjon grunted, "You're a Stark through and through."

Ned leaned back in his chair, "In truth, I've done very little I think. The North is much the same as when I took up my titles. Looking back, the North hasn't changed much since my grandfather Edwyle's time, other than the Rebellion."

"Surely that's a good thing Ned?"

"Jon, Rickard, I'm worried about King Robert."

"Is something amiss in the South?" Rickard was instantly attentive, he'd always been sharp when it came to preparing for danger.

"Not that I know of. I've spent that last few weeks thinking on the history of the throne, of the Targaryens. They ruled for 300 years, and yet they've faced near destruction more than once."

"That's the price you pay for trying to rule the whole land." Greatjon affirmed.

"The Targaryens won their throne on the backs of dragons and kept it through tradition and politics. Only without their dragons they never would have made it that far."

"They'd probably have been crushed by the Reach and the Westerlands or even the North when time came to march." Rickard said.

"Robert has no dragons and I've learnt now that ruling over a land divided is never stable. I wonder what would have happened had Balon not rebelled, I think that war turned Robert from a rebel to a King in many eyes."

"Then what has you thinking of the King?"

"Something that Cregan Stark once told his sons about the Blackfyre Rebellion. 'The Targaryens are no longer special, no longer above the laws of Gods and men. All it takes is ambition, rumor and a poor King to split the realm in two.' I'll admit I'm not well informed of the state of Robert's rule, but I do know that he has yet to repay the North its loan and from what Lord Manderly has told me the Faith of the Seven have been using the same complaint to bargain for concessions."

Ned stood up and went to his writing desk and pulled a large case out and place it in front of his bannermen.

"I may be just paranoid, worried about an old friend, or seeing shadows where there is nothing. Nevertheless I believe now is the time to speak of the future."

He pulled out the large pile of writings and drawings, most either in his hand or Beorn's.

"You've been busy Ned, get bored with making judgments all day?" Greatjon joked.

"If you ever have six children Jon, you'll find yourself in needs of a hobby."

He pulled out a smaller set of drawings and arranged them across his desk.

"I won't skirt around the truth, though I did wish to celebrate with you both there is more to my invitation. Take a look at these maps."

The two veterans parsed through the sheets.

"That's the western part of Last River and that's Long Lake." Greatjon knew his lands by sight alone.

He paused and peered closer, tracing his finger along a thicker broken line leading from northeast shore of Long Lake to the southern branching part of Last River.

"What's this supposed to be?"

"The same thing is marked here connecting Torrhen's Lake to the White Knife."

"Those my friends, are canals." Ned declared.

"Ned what the fuck is a canal?" Greatjon, subtle as ever.

"They're manmade paths that connect rivers. Braavos is practically covered in them." Rickard explained. "You want to dig a canal in the North? Where did this come from?"

Ned answered with more a leather sleeve put on the table. "From Torrhen Stark."

"The King Who Knelt?"

"The very same. He sent men to Essos after Aegon's Conquest looking to learn anything and everything. The ships returned six years later with more news than Torrhen could care to read. Most of it has sat useless until now."

"Something must have peaked your interest about the canals."

"Correct Rickard, just not the ones in Braavos. What I'm interested in are the ones on the Rhoyne."

He pushed forward a small packet of sketches, they were of various waterway cutting straight through lands. A few were of large wooden gates with diagrams opening and letting water flow in and out. Rickard was especially interesting in the ones showing boats going into them and then being lifted to actually sail uphill.

"I want to hire engineers from Braavos to oversee connecting Last River to Long Lake. If it's successful I want to repeat the process only connecting Torrhen's Square to the White Knife."

Greatjon stood up to better read the map. "We'd have an easier time getting goods to and from White Harbour. Food, timbre, stone, it's a pain in the arse to drag it by cart I'll tell you."

"Just travelling would be easier. Mustering troops, visiting other parts of the kingdom. The only problem is building and maintaining something like this requires coin and men, more than we can provide easily. Not to mention how much more one crossing half the North would require." Rickard pointed out.

"I plan on giving it a small trial first. Extending the White Knife further into the Wolfswood to hopefully double the amount of lumber heading downriver. As for funding, I've written to Lord Arryn and the King for support. If things fall into place Vale ships and Crown-paid labourers will make the work faster. Lord Glover will oversee the day to day progress."

The next hour was spent answering questions and taking down suggestions. The sun had quickly risen and began making a downward fall, it would soon be time to dine and celebrate. Ned decided to finish up his business so they could enjoy the night without worry.

"I'm looking to the future my friends. I can't promise it will be flawless or that no mistakes will be made, what I can promise is that my goal is to make the North stronger for our children and our grandchildren."

"You haven't led us astray yet Ned. The Umbers will stand with you."

"We all stand to benefit, Karhold and its people are behind you."

Ned embraced both of them, "I am glad to hear it."

/

After putting his solar back into some kind of order, Ned led their party out and down to the main hall. It was already filled and the musicians played a jovial tune. The Lords saw their own children mingling near the head table.

Smalljon, Torrhen and the Tallhart heir, Benefred, were huddled at a table with Robb, Jon and Theon. They were laughing trying to convince Robb of something. He conceded, got up, and walked over to the young ladies at their own table. Bowing he offered his hand to Alys who blushed but agreed to dance anyway. That was all it took for the rest of them to pair off and take to the floor. Ned smiled when Jon was dragged from his seat by Arya and Eddara Tallhart.

He drew Greatjon and Rickard's attention back to him. "It would be a boon to have a representative of your Houses stay in Winterfell wouldn't you say? To be your eyes and ears as things develop."

"A fine idea my lord!" replied the Greatjon, grinning unabashadley, "Smalljon could use some time away from home."

"Alys would be grateful for the company of other girls and Torrhen has been itching to train with someone besides his brothers." Rickard nodded along.

Ned stood and raised his goblet. The hall fell silent as others rose with their own cups.

"Honoured guests before we dine, a toast! To my daughter Sansa, another year has passed and you have only made me more proud. I have no doubt that one day you shall be a great Lady as your mother."

Sansa couldn't contain her smile or hide her blush.

"To Sansa!" Robb called.

"To Sansa!"

/