Eddard I

The Torentine

The road ahead was dry and foreboding to Ned. Dorne was a hostile to him, true they were near a river but that river did nothing but tantalize him and his companions. The Torentine was treacherous and pulling water from it near impossible thanks to the nearly endless amounts of rapids, waterfalls and deep canyons. The longer he and his companions rode next to it the more it seemed to taunt them. He looked back behind to check on Howland, he had been wounded during the confrontation at the Tower of Joy, but crannogmen were anything but weak people. He found that Howland was gazing across the river and into what you could see of the Red Hills. Beside Ned was his loyal companion Greyshade. It had been near on three years since he had found the direwolf pup and now he was full grown, his pelt a dark grey with darker streaks of black throughout. Even while Ned was mounted he was an impressive size, reaching up to just past the horse's chest. Finally Ned looked to the riderless horse to his left and felt a searing guilt reach into his chest. There was a man strapped onto the horse's saddle covered in Ned's own cloak and leathers. The body of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and next to him the famed greatsword Dawn. It pained Ned that he had had to fight such an honorable man, and in the back of his mind it was made even more painful when he thought back to how he had died. He felt that that battle was anything but honorable, a mass of steel, blood, fur, and teeth. Silently he shook his head to rid himself of those dark thoughts. He lifted his head once more forward and saw that the path ahead narrowed.

"Howland," Ned called as he stopped and dismounted his horse. He watched as Howland came to a stop beside him and Greyshade and dismounted with some difficulty, clutching his shoulder in slight pain. "The path ahead is narrow. Looks like we'll need to go single file through. You and Greyshade go through first, I will carry Ser Arthur's body through on foot."

Ned looked downward to the smaller crannogmen and saw that his brow was slightly furrowed, clearly a question was forming in the man's mind.

"My Lord, are we not stopping at High Hermitage? If we go through this pass we'll pass it entirely. Our supplies are running low and there isn't another spot to resupply until Starfall."

"For all we know the Dornishmen might not know about King's Landing or the Trident. They could see two northmen and turn us into pin cushions before we get a chance to explain ourselves. And even if they do know, with what happened to Ser Lewyn, Princess Elia, and now Ser Arthur, I wouldn't be surprised if Dorne has declared another war. For now we stick to these out of the way roads and head for Starfall. There are only three of us, if we ration smartly we'll make it."

"If what you say is true, why would Starfall treat us any differently?"

"Some of Lord Arryn's informants and scouts say that Ser Arthur and Ashara's brother is currently in Sunspear, no doubt helping coordinate troops. That would leave Ashara in charge, and she and I have some history. I think it's a safe bet that she would at least not murder us on sight. She'll hear us out especially once she finds out we have come to return Dawn and Ser Arthur."

"My Lord, may I ask you a question?" Howland asked hesitantly.

"Go ahead," Ned replied as he took a long drink from his water skin.

"My Lord, we were all but ready to return north after the Tower of Joy. Why are we returning Dawn and Ser Arthur when the price for doing so could be so high?"

Ned looked at Howland for a long moment. He knew that being so far south was putting him on edge. The Neck may be the most southern part of the North, but frost still flowed in House Reed's veins just as it did in the Stark's. It was natural for him to be so wary, after all one of his first encounters with southerners had been at Harrenhal and it hadn't been a pleasant one.

"My second father, Lord Jon Arryn taught me what honor truly was, and what it demanded. In this case, Honor demands that I return Ser Arthur and Dawn to House Dayne. The Sword of the Morning must be put to rest."

Howland looked somewhat satisfied with Ned's answer but there was still a trace of perplexity written upon his face. Ned wondered if Greywater and the Neck had a different sort of honor than he had grown up around. It seemed that wherever he went honor had a different definition. Knighthood had never suited the Starks or the North much, but what he had learned from the Knights of the Vale would stick with him for the rest of his days. Honor would be the way he lived the rest of his life, and he hoped that would be the way he would die as well.

"Come on, Howland we have a ways to go yet, and now is not the time to dwell on such things. We'll talk more about this when we're in the Great Hall of Winterfell, drinking wine and remembering our fallen," Ned said after a period of silence.

"Of course, My Lord."

"Howland, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ned. I'd be dead if not for you, you're not just a bannerman, you're a bloody friend."

"Well, you are my Lord. I'd feel disrespectful simply calling you 'Ned'." Howland responded as he mounted his horse while wincing once more.

"You and your bloody sense of honor," Ned replied under his breath with a hint of laughter. He paused for a moment to watch Howland ride on into the pass before reaching into the riderless horse's saddle and heaved Ser Arthur over onto his right shoulder. When he had the knight's body in a relatively comfortable position he looked to Greyshade and urged him forward with a slight nod of the head before grabbing the horse's reins to guide it across the narrow path ahead.

The path they traversed was winding and treacherous, the river having carved away at the red rock around them, making the path crumble and crack under the feet and hooves crossing them. Walking the path was indeed dangerous, but also a painful reminder to just how far away Ned was from Winterfell and his beloved northern lands. These lands were hostile, dangerous, and yet also had a haunting beauty to it, but Ned had far too much frost in his blood to take any real enjoyment of it. Eventually as they walked the labyrinthian passes and crossings, he could just make out a hazy image of a faraway island that seemed to house a castle, and the only castle that it could be would be their destination: Starfall.

"Howland!" Ned called ahead as he began to settle Ser Arthur's body back into the empty saddle. "We should rest here tonight. Starfall is close but if we push on we're liable to end up blinded by this darkness and walk off a cliff.

Ned watched as Howland reined in his horse and waited for Ned to catch up to him. He noticed that his arm still seemed to be troubling him and a dark thought that Howland could lose the arm or even his life to infection crossed his mind. Ned continued to watch as the crannogman swung down from his horse and saw him wince more intensely as he hit the ground. It seemed to Ned that his fears were somewhat true. He had lost five bannermen and friends at the Tower of Joy and the possibility that he could lose another one here pained him deeply. After Ned had caught up and they were settled somewhat comfortably around a makeshift campfire, Ned called Howland beside him.

"How's your arm? It seemed to be giving you a bit of trouble earlier," Ned asked as he tossed a hunk of dried beef toward Greyshade.

"It-it's okay. I'm sure it'll get a fair bit better in time. We should really just stay focused on getting to Starfall," Howland replied evenly, but Ned could see through his farce. The wound was troubling him more than he would admit. The smaller man was quite stubborn, and in some ways he reminded Ned of his elder brother Brandon.

"Horseshit," Ned replied as he watched Greyshade finish his miniscule meal. "We both know Ser Arthur got you good, nearly killed you, but you crannogmen are tougher than ten southerners combined. Now lets see the wound, I lost five friends at the Tower, and I aim to not lose another."

Howland flinched a bit as Ned peeled back Howland's sweat stained shirt and started to inspect the wound. The Sword of the Morning had indeed got Howland good. The cut was deep, almost going down to the bone, but it was also a clean cut. There was no curving or bending in the flesh, it seemed that the rumors that Dawn always cut precisely and cleanly were somewhat true. Ned ran a finger down the cut and was pleasantly surprised that no sign of infection had shown, but it still needed to be cleaned. The cut was deep and eventually infection would be drawn to it. Ned retracted his finger and reached for his near empty water skin and began to unstopper it.

"My Lord we don't have enough water it's a waste to use it now, we should wait until we arrive in Starfall."

"By the time we arrive at Starfall, the wound could be putrid. Starfall may be within sight, but we're on backroads. For all we know it could take another two days to reach it traveling these winding paths. I can go without water for a couple of days, you and Greyshade can't," Ned replied firmly. Slowly, he ran the last of his water down Howland's shoulder and arm. He watched as the water turned a rich crimson color, somewhat reminiscent of the mountains and rocks that surrounded them.

"How's that feel? Any better?"

"A bit, doesn't burn near as much anymore."

"Good, perhaps there's hope for you yet," Ned replied jokingly. "Now to bind you up," Ned reached into his saddle bag and fished out a rugged and ripped linen shirt. He had worn it at the Trident when a loyalist soldier had slashed at his back, cutting through his leathers. The man had been bold, but somewhat dimwitted. The second after his strike landed, Greyshade had torn his sword arm off and ripped his throat out. Ned took out his dagger and cut off a couple of thin strips to bind the wound tight. As he did so, he could feel Howland's shoulder jerk and flinch, and a slight groan of discomfort escaped his pursed lips.

After Ned had finished his somewhat crude doctoring, the two sat around the fire in a comfortable silence. Greyshade had curled himself up beside Ned and Howland was leaning his back against a flat red rock, his hand clutching his wounded shoulder.

Ned sat back as well and it occurred to him that this was the most peaceful he had felt since the day his father and brother had died, the day that the Rebellion had started. It had been a chaotic year of war and bloodshed. The journey he and Greyshade had made from the Eyrie to Winterfell alone was an experience he thought had shaved a good ten years off of his life. He sat for a long while, thinking with closed eyes. The faces of the dead flashed under his eyelids as he still thought back to battles of the past. He had always thought that their cause, that Robert's cause had been a right one, but doubts and questions had begun to seep into his mind after the Sack of King's Landing. Rape and death are what had transpired at that accursed Red Keep. It was much redder now than it had been before the rebellion, of that he was certain. The Three Hounds had made sure of that. The more he thought, the more he felt he was drowning in his own thoughts until all he saw was an endless black with strange things within. He saw lights of green, white, black, and crimson-gold. A swirl of fire and fur that ended with a violet and grey haze that consumed him whole.

"My Lord, My Lord!"

Ned opened his eyes again and saw a deep green eye above him. To Ned it seemed to be the color of the deep Wolfswood, or perhaps a deeper, richer emerald . He stared at the eye for a long moment before realizing he was looking at Greyshade. The wolf was lying before him on the ground, his head on the ground near his, the world around them a shade on deep onyx. Finally he stirred and as he began to rise he felt hands on his back, guiding him upwards. He was still in front of the campfire but it had burned low, becoming a deep red that cast a sinister light on the area around them.

"My Lord, are you okay?"

Ned raised his head and found Howland above him, worry written deeply in his face.

"Yes...Yes, I'm fine. What happened?" Ned asked, righting himself and turning to his companion.

"You nodded off. I thought it best to let you have your rest but you began to shake and…"

"And what?" Ned asked worry creeping into his voice.

"You began to mutter in your sleep, you kept saying 'green wolf, keep the green wolf safe'."

Ned looked from Howland and back to Greyshade. He had moved closer to Ned, and quietly he dropped his head into his lap, his right eye grey, his left now a dark violet that reflected the sky above them. Ned began to calm as he ran his hand down the wolf's head and back. His mind was lingering on what he just saw and what Howland had told him. He could feel Howland's gaze piercing him from the side and could feel the question burning within him.

"Eddard, it was a wolfdream wasn't it?"

Ned snapped his head to face Howland. He could see Howland was deadly serious, a look of solemn respect in his eyes.

"You know about them?"

"Aye, my father used to tell me stories of greenseers and wargs, the skinchangers of the North. He said that the Starks didn't just have ice in their veins, but wolf-blood as well. A lot of crannogmen claim that the former Kings of Winter who bonded with direwolves had the wolfdreams, and they say that these dreams are a form of greensight, a gift given by the Old Gods."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, they weren't lying. My brother Benjen and I have had dreams before. We both saw our Lord Father's and elder brother's deaths through the eyes of a wolf. When I returned North to call my banners, Ben was waiting for me. He said he had seen me approach Winterfell the night before, and after what I had seen, I believed him." Ned looked Howland in the eye, his grey eyes seeming to darken in the uncertain light.

"But this was different? You seemed in some sort of trance, like what you were doing wasn't you, but something else. This 'green wolf' you spoke of, do you know what it is?"

"No, but if the tales of greendreams are true, then it will reveal itself in time I believe," Ned looked back down at Greyshade, he had brought his paws under his head and was looking into Ned's eyes with his own intelligent ones. "What time is it, Howland?" Ned asked, keen to change the topic from one so enigmatic and strange to one that was normal.

"Should be dawn soon, you were out for quite awhile. I also scouted up a little ahead, seems the path straightens out after this last crevice."

"Good, good. We're sure to make it to Starfall within the next day or so then," Ned rose to his feet slowly, still not quite trusting his legs after his disorienting and mind bending dream.

Ned and Howland spent the next day traveling in an hushed silence, both were unnerved by what had transpired the night before. Ned was distracted, plagued by thoughts of this 'green wolf'. Though the path was rough, with the sun beating down on the three of them, they traveled through it like it was nothing. Their minds far from the heat and rough stone paths. Then, finally, as the sun was setting and the sky was turning a rich purple, the island that housed Starfall came clear into view.

The Palestone Sword rose into view followed by the drawbridge and pale stone walls. Near the lowered bridge was a small mass of grey framed by the purple banners of House Dayne. Ned and Howland slowed to a trot as they approached the gate and the grey mass turned into a small garrison guarding the bridge.

"Who would cross into Starfall, home of House Dayne and the Sword of the Morning?" boomed a voice from amongst the garrison.

"Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and his bannerman, Howland Reed, heir of Greywater Watch."

Ned watched as the garrison formed a line across the bridge, barring their way. They rose their pikes and spears as one and archers appeared on the battlements above.

"What business have traitors-" the voice was cut off by a soft and commanding voice from the battlements.

"Stand down and let Lord Eddard through. He wouldn't be here if the war was still raging."

Ned looked up and saw the originator of the voice, a beautiful and slender woman with long dark hair. Ashara Dayne, the woman he had come to see.