Chapter 10: A Forge preparation

Summary:

As he finishes his breakfast, Marc decides to see the blacksmith of Darry Castle both to find a weapon and to retrieve something else...

Chapter Text

As the breakfast concluded, I turned to Arya and offered her a warm smile. "Excuse me, Arya," I said gently, "there's something I need to discuss with your father."

Arya's eyebrows lifted slightly in curiosity, but she nodded and replied, "Sure, Marc. If you need to talk to Father, go ahead."

I made my way toward Eddard Stark, who had been quietly observing the interactions between Arya and me. As I approached him, he looked up from his plate, acknowledging my presence with a nod. I sensed the glances of the other members of the household present there, but I focused on the northerner lord.

"My lord," I began respectfully, "as I am uncertain about how much time I have left in this realm before departing with the escort you'll assign for your daughter and me, I believe it would be prudent for me to visit the blacksmith. I'd like to ask him to craft a weapon that would be useful for our journey."

Eddard's brow furrowed as he considered my request. He seemed to be contemplating the situation and the potential risks involved. After a moment, he replied, "I understand your concern, Marc. While my men would ensure your protection as they would for Arya, I can understand the need of having a weapon to protect yourself."

He added with a firm and serious voice, "However, I can't let you walk on your own. The Lannisters may be tempted to strike at you if they are not aware that you are now part of my household."

I nodded, understanding his concerns. "Of course, my lord. Who would accompany me?"

Eddard took a glance in the direction behind me. I restrained myself not to look behind to satisfy my curiosity as I suspected it would be improper and impolite.

The northerner lord brought back his eyes on me.

"Jory would.", he said with a finality in the voice.

I nodded in acceptance of his decision. "Thank you, my lord," I said sincerely before bowing my head to him.

Eddard's stern expression softened slightly, and he offered a small smile before inclining his head slightly, acknowledging my gratitude.

"Go then, Marc."

I then moved towards Jory, who had been standing nearby, listening to our conversation.

"Jory," I addressed him, "shall we head to the blacksmith's forge?"

Jory gave me a nod. "Of course."

Jory and I then left the hall and began walking through the corridors of Darry Castle. As we moved, I made sure to indicate to Jory the general direction of the blacksmith's forge, where I intended to go.

"This way, Jory.", I told him.

He gave me a curious glance, his brow slightly furrowed as we turned towards the new corridor.

"How do you know where the blacksmith's forge is?" he asked in a intrigued tone.

I answered him with a calm and yet passioned voice. "I've spent the last few days within the castle's walls, assisting Lord Darry's staff in various tasks during the king's visit. It allowed me to become familiar with the keep's layout, and I have a good memory for paths once I've taken them."

Jory nodded in understanding, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. "That would explain it. It's always useful to know one's way around, especially in times like these."

As we continued walking through the corridors of Darry Castle, we encountered some of servants and maids who served House Darry. While many went on their duties without paying attention on Jory and me, some greeted me with nods or even respectful smiles while others were uncertain or wary. I knew it was partly due to my contribution to help them handling the king's visit, but I also suspected my intervention of the previous night to have played a big part. After all, it wasn't everyday that a foreign commoner kind of challenged highborns, especially the royal family and the Lannisters and to leave unscathed, even though I wondered if some worried of a Lion's retaliation. But I knew that some might take delight of seeing Tywin's family taking a peg down by one of the lower status in a manner that made it difficult to be pinpointed as a true slight. As Jory and I were approaching the entrance, a maid called Ellyn that I had helped and who had a quick wit, approached me.

"Marc, I've heard people saying you spoke up to defend the Stark girl against the prince. Is that true?"

I met her gaze with a friendly smile and a nod. "Yes, that's me. I couldn't stand by while that boy mistreated her."

She answered back with a concerned glance and a soft smile. "You've got guts, speaking out against the Lannisters like that."

Their genuine curiosity and admiration were heartening. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Well, sometimes you have to stand up for what's right, even if it means facing powerful people."

Ellyn nodded, though her eyes still expressed great concern.

"Well, do not make it a habit. You have been a very helpful hand these days and I do not want to see you dead because you had tickled the wrong people. The Lannister always pay their debts, they say", she said with a firm voice.

I looked at her with a comprehensive and kind look, appreciating her genuine concern.

"I promise to be careful, Ellyn. You take care as well, and may the gods watch over us all."

Ellyn offered a small, relieved smile before continuing on her way to attend to her duties. Jory had observed my interaction with keen eyes, noting how I behaved and interacted, not only with the maid but also to those who greeted me as I reciprocated their greetings with a friendly smile and respectful nods, genuinely acknowledging their presence with warmth.

However, as we reached the entrance, we crossed some people who cast dark glances in my direction. These individuals, easily distinguishable by the lion sigil adorning their clothing, belonged to the Lannister retinue. I knew that due to their loyalty to the queen and her kin, my intervention must have caused ripples of discontent within their ranks. The glares they directed at me carried an undercurrent of resentment, born out of the belief that my actions had "humiliated" the prince and reflected poorly on House Lannister. Only the presence of Jory seemed to stop them of doing something against me. I merely nodded to their presence without looking at them as I suspected they might take it as a pretext. It pained me to witness such divisions, as it reminded me of the toxic nature of pride and how it could blind individuals to the greater good. And in a place like Westeros, it was literally a second nature. A part of me wondered if it was not akin to try to live on Venus with all the toxicity and dangerous features of the place.

As we entered the courtyard, Jory looked at me thoughtfully, his expression tinged with concern. "You seem to get along quite well with the people of Darry," he commented.

I nodded, acknowledging his observation.

"Yes. While standing against the prince may have influenced their perception of me, I believe my friendly and cautious nature has always played a role in how I deal with others. You can't imagine how much a good deed, kindness and generosity mixed with selfless friendliness can do as long you are aware and thoughtful of your actions and thoughtful of others."

Jory nodded, understanding a bit my reasoning. He seemed to ponder before raising an eyebrow. I wondered what aroused such reaction, but his next words and tone gave me the answer.

"I couldn't help but notice that you didn't address Arya as 'my lady.' And when speaking of the prince yesterday, you didn't use his title. Why is that?"

His pointed inquiry gave me pause. I carefully considered my response, aware of the change in my circumstances.

"I treat each person as an individual, not merely defined by their status. Arya possesses a fiery and independent spirit, and I believe addressing her by her title would not truly capture her essence. As for the prince, I wanted to address the situation objectively and speak the truth, rather than relying on his title. Titles can sometimes cloud judgment, and I felt it necessary to approach the matter with clarity."

Jory's expression remained firm, hinting at his concern as he pressed further. "I see. But now that you are in service of Lord Stark, it is important to understand the significance of titles and the expectations that come with them. Arya is a member of House Stark and must be treated as such."

His reminder struck a chord within me, and I nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right, Jory."

Jory seemed satisfied with my answer, but a part of me couldn't help but feel a bit guilty of giving him a Dumbledore-like answer. While I knew that in public, I would interact with Arya in such a manner to avoid so many issues, I also knew that this was a matter that needed to be spoken with her. No matter how young she was, it was very important that we found a middle ground for our sakes, especially with how headstrong and determined and stubborn she could be. I might want to adapt to this world, but that didn't mean I would bend to it. I inwardly sighed as I couldn't help but ponder the complexities of communication and perception in this world, where titles and status held immense weight in shaping interactions. I also let out a amused smile as I wondered if I didn't have found my inner Martell when it was matter of cultural frames. Besides, snakes were among my favourite animals, that would fit well with me. Relegating those amusing thoughts to my mind, I focused on the surroundings as we were moving in the courtyard. It was filled with activity as people went about their tasks as we were heading in the direction of the blacksmith's forge.

As we arrived before the blacksmith's workshop, I noticed the familiar figure of the blacksmith, a middle-aged man with a stocky build and a weathered face. His name was Jallen, a skilled craftsman known for his dedication to his work. He recognized me as I approached, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Ah, Marc," he greeted with a friendly nod. "I've heard tales of your brave stand against that prince. It's not every day we see a commoner stand up to the highborn, especially not the heir to the throne."

I smiled modestly, acknowledging his words. "Thank you, Jallen. It was the right thing to do."

He nodded in agreement. "Aye, it was. Now, what brings you to my forge today?"

Jallen looked at me, his expression curious. "So, Marc, is that why you're here in my forge today? For the tiny fork you asked me to create?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

Before I could respond, my companion Jory interjected with an intrigued tone. "A tiny fork? What's that for?" he asked, clearly interested in the conversation.

I looked at him and answered with a fond smile, "This fork is primarily for meals, helping you to eat your meal in cutting your meat for example. However, it can be useful as a weapon in desperate times. More efficient than a spoon," I replied, acknowledging the usefulness of the unconventional tool.

Jory seemed taken aback by my request for a meal utensil that could potentially double as a weapon. He voiced his curiosity, "You asked for something meant for meals?"

Jallen joined the conversation. "I must admit, Marc, I was a bit puzzled when you first requested this fork. It's not something I'm accustomed to making," he admitted, his tone reflecting his initial confusion.

I simply smiled at their reactions. "It's a custom from home," I explained, hinting at the familiarity and sentimentality that the tiny fork held for me.

The two men nodded to my answer. An idea then struck me. "You know what, Jallen? You should create a fork for your lord. A lord that could eat his meals without dirtying his hands would be regarded as very proper. Your lord could win some good points by being the first to use such a tool," I suggested, hoping to inspire Jallen's creativity and benefit his position as Lord Darry's smith.

Jallen's eyes widened as he considered my suggestion. A mix of surprise and intrigue played across his weathered face. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, mulling over the implications of creating a fork for his lord.

"You know, that's an interesting thought," Jallen finally responded, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "I've always strived to provide Lord Darry with the finest weapons and armour, but a fork? It never occurred to me."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he continued, "But you're right. A lord who can dine without soiling his hands... It would be seen as a mark of refinement and elegance. Perhaps it's time I expanded my repertoire."

Jallen's enthusiasm grew as he envisioned the possibilities. "I could design a fork fit for a lord, adorned with intricate engravings and crafted from the finest materials. It might even become a symbol of Lord Darry's court."

He turned to me, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Marc. You've given me a new avenue to explore, and I won't forget your contribution to this idea."

I nodded appreciatively, glad that my suggestion had sparked Jallen's imagination. "I have no doubt that your craftsmanship will impress Lord Darry and his court," I replied, confident in his abilities.

I also thought of the dislike of the Darry for the Lannisters and the Baratheon due to the events of Robert's Rebellion. And since Raymun Darry was present in the hall when I intervened, I could imagine he might be receptive of testing a tiny fork that would be used to help him to eat his meals. Inwardly, I was amused to the fact I might introduce an everyday life tool in Westeros and might contributed to develop a sub development of a specific Renaissance in the Riverlands and perhaps in the North as a fork could be very practical. The funniest thing was the fact that if forks were developed in the North, that would make the court of the Red Keep slightly "backwards" in the proper manner of eating a meal.

I inwardly chuckled to the fact that this was the first tool from home I contributed to recreate in Westeros, even though I just gave the depiction and idea to Jallen. At least, it was much easier to try to recreate a fork with the help of the relevant people rather than trying to recreate gunpowder or the Guntenberg printing press. Thank God I didn't have any super Saiyan powers or were gifted some otherwise that would become a mess and that wouldn't help me solve issues at hand. A part of me wondered if I wasn't part of an inception self-insert as the current situation reminded me the funny thoughts and dreams I did since my young days, imagining myself traveling in different fictional worlds. But if that was the case, my true self was seriously a sadistic bastard to send me in a place where I either die backstabbed, flayed, crucified, burnt by wildfire, red priests or dragons or becoming a slave of death cheaters. I would rather be in Arendelle, Pemberley, Downton Abbey or even Storybrooke.

Relegating those thoughts in the depths of my mind, I turned back to Jallen.

"And to answer your question, Jallen, I am here partly for the fork, but not only that. I need a weapon, ideally an axe or a hammer. I have a journey ahead, and I want to ensure I can defend myself if need be," I explained, my voice carrying determination.

Jallen raised an eyebrow, considering my request. "If you're in need of a weapon, I have a few options available. Axes and hammers, you say?" he mused, his eyes scanning the array of weapons hanging on the wall.

He retrieved several finely crafted axes and hammers, presenting them to me one by one. Each weapon exuded strength and precision in its design. After careful consideration, I settled on a well-balanced hammer with a reinforced shaft, confident that it would serve me well on my journey.

Jallen nodded approvingly as I made my choice. "A good pick, Marc. That hammer will serve you faithfully," he remarked, his voice filled with satisfaction.

With the weapon matter settled, Jallen turned his attention back to the tiny fork. He retrieved it from a nearby table and handed it to me. As I examined the delicate utensil, Jory, ever observant, noticed that I was left-handed.

I thanked the smith, "Thank you, Jallen. How much do I owe you for the hammer?"

Jallen smiled warmly and replied, "For you, Marc, a friend and a brave soul, it's on the house. Consider it a token of my appreciation for your act of courage."

I smiled and said with a grateful smile, "Thank you for your generosity. I hope I would be able to pay you back one day."

"No need for that. Your idea for the fork is enough."

I acquiesced, understanding his words. With the hammer in my possession and the tiny fork tucked away among my belongings I nodded to Jory, who had been observing the exchange. "We're all set, Jory."

Jory nodded back, his expression focused. "Let's head back to the castle then."

I saluted Jallen with gratitude before Jory and I began to make our way back through the corridors, the newly acquired hammer held close to me. It was a reassuring weight, a symbol of my determination to protect myself and those I cared about in this unfamiliar world.

As we walked, Jory's voice broke the silence. "Do you know how to use that thing?" he asked, nodding towards the hammer.

I shook my head slightly, a wry smile forming on my lips. "Not really, Jory. I've never actually used a weapon before. But I intend to learn as we journey to Winterfell."

Jory raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my response. "Never used a weapon?"

I chuckled softly. "The closest I've come to using something like this was a large hammer for splitting wood back in my world. It was a two-handed tool, much heavier than this. But wielding a weapon in combat is a whole different matter."

Jory nodded thoughtfully, seemingly taking in my explanation. "Well, it's good that you're taking the initiative to learn. A journey like this can be perilous, and knowing how to defend yourself is crucial."

As we moved along the corridors once more, we encountered more members of Lord Darry's staff. I greeted them with the same respect and friendly smile as before. Their responses were warm and appreciative, and I could sense a mixture of curiosity and admiration in their gazes. We finally made our way back to the assigned rooms of Lord Darry and his household. The mention of the royal family drew a thoughtful expression from me as I turned to Jory. "Do we need to go back to the hall, or should we head to the assigned rooms?"

Jory's lips quirked into a wry smile. "I think it's best to avoid the royal family for now. Let's head to the assigned rooms."

I nodded in agreement, and we began to make our way in the direction of the assigned rooms. Along the way, we came across more members of Lord Darry's staff, each greeted with a respectful nod and a friendly smile. Jory commented, "You certainly know how to navigate the social intricacies of this place."

I chuckled softly. "Well, let's just say that adapting to different situations and understanding people's perspectives has always been a skill of mine. It comes in handy, especially in unfamiliar territory."

Jory nodded in acknowledgment, his expression thoughtful. "It's a valuable skill to have, especially in the North. We value loyalty and respect here."

"I'm learning that quickly," I replied with a smile. "And I'm grateful for your guidance, Jory."

He gave a small nod, his gaze steady. "It's my duty to ensure the safety of those under Lord Stark's protection. And from what I've seen, you have a genuine desire to help and protect as well."

I acquiesced to Jory's words, appreciating his insight and the companionship he provided. We quickly made our way to the assigned rooms, passing by the vigilant guards stationed around. As we approached, I noticed Vayon Poole, the steward of House Stark, waiting nearby. It seemed that at least Arya and Sansa had returned to their chambers.

Vayon noticed our approach and greeted us with a nod. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he inquired.

I offered a small smile in response and held up the newly acquired hammer. "Indeed, I did."

Vayon's brows lifted in mild surprise as he glanced at the hammer. "Ah, a weapon, I see. Well, it's good to be prepared."

I nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. Safety is a priority."

With a nod of understanding, Vayon continued, "Lord Stark is currently with the king, attending to matters of state. If you need anything, I'm here to assist."

"Thank you, Vayon," I replied. "I appreciate your help."

With that, I entered my assigned room and took a moment to survey the space, ensuring that I hadn't left behind any of my belongings. As I looked around, my thoughts drifted to the future. How would I navigate the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead? How would I manage the knowledge and information I possessed, given the potential implications for this world?

The upcoming journey loomed in my mind as well. How would I interact with the guards who would accompany Arya and me? How would I navigate the complexities of this world's politics and hierarchies while keeping my true identity hidden? My cautious self was having a field day, reminding me of the risks and dangers that came with my actions. Yet, I couldn't deny the sense of purpose that had driven me to this point. I was resolved to protect Arya and ensure her safety, even if it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory and taking risks.

As I pondered these thoughts, a knock on the door interrupted my musings. "Enter," I called out.

To my surprise, Eddard Stark entered the room. I immediately stood up.

"My lord.", I saluted him.

Eddard nodded in acknowledgment and offered a faint smile. "No need for formalities, Marc. Did you find a weapon that suited you?"

I returned the smile with a nod while showing the hammer. "I do. That should do for the journey."

Eddard observed the weapon before nodding. His eyes seemed to be faraway and a bit amused.

"Robert would have loved to see you with such weapon. And with your dark hair, he might think you are kin to him."

I chuckled a bit, noticing the little jest behind the lord's words and understanding well his comment. It was coincidental, though also amusing and ironic as I knew Robert Baratheon loved to fight, to drink and to bed women while I disliked violence, was sober and still a green boy in the matters of bedding and would be glad to remain it for the time being. I just thought of the short discussion with Vayon.

"Vayon Poole mentioned that you were with the king. How did your meeting go?"

Eddard's expression turned thoughtful and grave. "It was... eventful. My friend is eager to depart from Darry Castle now that Arya is back. He was a bit flummoxed that I had to send her back to Winterfell, but he understood the situation."

I acquiesced to his words, imagining that a discussion with Robert Baratheon would be a complicated matter, even when you were his friend.

I then sighed softly.

"That means the departure of Arya, Lady, and myself will be sooner than I anticipated."

Eddard's gaze met mine, his eyes grave and solemn.

"Yes. I intend for you to leave this afternoon."

I nodded, processing the information.

"Well, I suppose it's best to be prepared for the journey ahead."

Eddard's expression grew serious. "Indeed. I wanted to inform you that Harwin and a dozen of my men will be accompanying you, Arya, and Lady on this journey. Most of them were part of the search party when Arya went missing."

I felt a sense of relief at the news. Having capable men to protect us was reassuring.

"Thank you, my lord. I appreciate the arrangement."

Eddard nodded in response. "Safety is a priority, especially given recent events. I trust that you'll all look out for each other."

I met his gaze with a determined nod. "Absolutely, my lord."

I then thought upon the news and felt torn apart. On the one hand, I was relieved as it would mean to be away from Cersei and her son. No matter how rightful it was to defend Arya from their lies and their awful and abusive attempt for retaliation, I knew that they would be like buffaloes or tigers determined to destroy those who harmed them in one way or another without striking them down. But on the other hand, I felt helpless and guilty because there were so many things I wanted to tell to Eddard before his departure to King's Landing and mine to Winterfell. I as thinking upon what I could tell to Eddard, even though a part of me reminded me I informed him that I gave him that would help him in the future.

Should I tell anything else and breaking my word? Or should I apologize and tell him at least a complementary information to what he could expect in King's Landing? I hated this feeling because I wanted so much to help him and to share anything I could but I also knew that knowledge could become a weapon or a mean of power, a tool that could help to thrive or to fall. I however knew that I had to give any reliable and key information that could help him in addition to what I had already revealed to him. Two matters that I considered crucial came to my mind, one for the sake of young people whose only crime was to be born outside the wedlock from the most important man in Westeros, and the other that could save thousands of people and completely breaking the Dragons' legitimacy and claims if done well. A part of me disliked it due to the political implications, but I knew that I had no trust in the return of the Dragons, especially in regards of Daenerys. No matter her birth, her lack of knowledge, her views of the world and her over-reliance in her future dragons and her Essossi background made her an unreliable pretender and the second least relevant candidate for a Dragon restoration. To move forwards, even with the incoming storm in the North, the Seven Kingdom truly needed to heal and bringing back the Dragons wasn't exactly helping it as it would be a nostalgic and reactionary move and the perpetuation of a vicious cycle that made the courts Ottoman empire and Frank kingdoms pleasant places to go.

Eddard noticed the serious demeanour on my face and asked, "Is something troubling you?"

I looked at him, a mix of determination and concern in my eyes, and answered, "There is so much more I want to tell you, and yet now there's not much time. However, there are two subjects I think are important to be told."

Eddard's expression grew curious and wary and he leaned in slightly, indicating for me to continue. "If it was the case, why didn't you tell them yesterday or in the morn?"

I sighed, "They slipped my mind. Remember that my knowledge of your world is neither whole or perfect or certain."

The northerner lord nodded, his brows furrowed and his mind clearly focused and pondering. A part of me wondered if he was wondering about the extent of my knowledge. Even if I warned him about its weaknesses and not to take it for face value, I knew he would be cautious about it, especially with the overwhelming implications my claims had.

A part of me wondered why he didn't press on in our previous discussions, but I considered that maybe the whole cumulation of the recent events and incidents in a matter of days prevented him to see the whole extent of the situation that was unfolding. Maybe I was overthinking what he was reflecting upon, but it was the best guess I could make and I knew that in certain circumstances, people like him didn't generally react as they would ordinarily. The situation that befell on him after his wound against Jaime Lannister in the books and show came to my mind as a clear example, even though it was tied to the pain and the milk of poppy affecting the clarity of his mind, not to mention the stress.

Another thought came to me: my personal reasoning concerning Bran's final situation in the show. He was unprepared and since Brynden and him were utter fools that didn't truly train in weeks and months for one of the most overbearing and complicated positions in the whole world, it was no wonder he was overwhelmed by information and trauma and that he might have become a shell to protect himself to break, especially as he spent several days in his warging and greensight state. Not an ideal situation for a young mind and person who saw his complete world being overwrecked. That was the closest thing that came to my mind to explain why Eddard didn't pressure me on such matters. I reminded myself that both situations were not exactly the same, but being overloaded by the spirit of the three-eyed raven on the one hand and finding out that your whole reality might be an illusion were hell of a world-changing perspective akin to a trauma.

Eddard finally said in a firm voice and grave voice, "Go on. Tell me of those matters you consider important to inform me."

I took a breath to reorganize my thoughts and began, "The first matter is tied to Robert's bastards. Some of them are in King's Landing, and should they be found by those who are close to the queen, they will be in great danger. There is a rumour that Cersei murdered twin babies in Casterly Rock because they were Robert's bastards. If you encounter any of them during your stay, try to think with your allies how to make them leave the city and send them somewhere safe, even if it means sending them to Dorne."

Eddard's eyes widened slightly, absorbing the gravity of the information. He pondered on it a bit, probably wondering why I gave him this information. He finally nodded slowly and replied, "I will take that into account. It is a troubling matter indeed."

Relieved by his answer, I continued, "The second issue requires your attention once you are in King's Landing. You must investigate what lies beneath the city. There is something hidden, at least beneath Flea Bottom and the Grand Sept of Baelor. It is something the Mad King had set up with the help of the Pyromancers—a dangerous secret that could still turn King's Landing into a mere footnote in history and shatter the stability of the Seven Kingdoms. It could even surpass the tragedies of Harrenhal and Summerhall."

Eddard's face grew solemn as he connected the dots, recalling the horrors of his own family's past and the Mad King's reign. He asked, his voice tinged with concern, "Who else knows of this danger?"

I locked eyes with Eddard, my voice steady as I answered, "You know him well because you accused him of having broken his oaths as a Kingsguard."

Eddard's expression hardened, a mix of distrust and disdain. He replied with a growling voice, "You speak of the Kingslayer."

"Yes," I affirmed, "I know you do not trust him and hold him in low regard because you discovered him seated on the Iron Throne with the body of Aerys still warm on the ground. I know what he did, and I understand your reasons for your feelings towards him. But I won't tell you his reasons because it is his tale to share. However, his actions are partly tied to this lingering danger beneath King's Landing. If you can find a way to make him reveal his secret to your friend, the King, as he is supposed to protect him, he might be able to absolve part of his dishonour. Personally, I find it more dishonourable and neglectful of him to not inform anyone of this danger than to have killed a tyrant whose deeds and intents would make Tywin Lannister seem like a child."

Eddard's face reflected a mixture of emotions, a war between duty and personal judgment. I could understand him. The circumstances he found Jaime Lannister that day weren't the best. Inwardly, I cursed Tywin Lannister for his stupid, foolish, short-sighted, pride-blinded, needless and wrong deeds. Jaime didn't deserve him as a father. Even with the things he did, he had the bad luck to be born in such a family. Damn, even Zuko didn't have such dysfunctional family. I dreaded, imagining the character having a thing for Azula. I cursed myself for such distorted and perverted thoughts. Damn, if I already made such dubious and awful connections and references, I would rather take the black, exiling myself beyond the wall or finding some vacation in the Summer Islands. I forced myself to focus on the main subject and to see how Eddard would answer to my reasoning.

The northerner lord finally spoke, his voice laced with scepticism, "Even if I speak to him, how am I supposed to make him reveal this secret?"

I met his gaze unwaveringly and said, "If he confronts you in one way or another, tell him three words: 'Burn them all.' Those were the last words of Aerys before he was killed."

Eddard's eyes widened in surprise, and he seemed to weigh the significance of my words. He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

After a while, he spoke softly, "Thank you for sharing this with me, Marc. I will consider your advice carefully. But I can't promise that a discussion with the kingslayer would ensue."

I nodded in acknowledgment, grateful that he understood my intentions. Though I was a bit disappointed by his scepticism and reluctance, I couldn't blame him. Tywin's cruelty tainted everything in the Lannisters and made them so hated that the idea of compromise could be a very complicated matter. But that Eddard was giving a thought to my advice on this peculiar matter was worth enough. That it bore fruits or not was something outside of my decision. Only Eddard could make this step and only Jaime could decide if he would let his pride and his toxic relation with Cersei prevent him to tell the truth.

I then said. "I should prepare my package for the upcoming departure."

Eddard nodded and said, "Take the time you need."

I saluted him respectfully. "Thank you, my lord."

Eddard saluted me back before leaving the room. As the door closed behind him, I took a deep breath, the weight of the impending journey settling in. A part of me was relieved to leave soon, because I didn't know how long Cersei or Joffrey would hold back before striking and discovering the North in real was something I was very interested.

I was however apprehensive, because the journey would be long and so many things could happen and while Eddard might have sent a message to inform his son, that didn't mean it would be enough for him to trust me because he didn't know, not to mention the wariness and distrust of northerners for foreigners. I knew I would have to make endeavours to prove my worth, while being careful in how I handled my knowledge and information. I looked at the hammer I just obtained and while I was fond of violence, I knew it would give me some safety as long as I pledged myself to train myself to develop and improve my skills.

And there was one thing I finally didn't regret when finding myself on Westeros: Internet or computers. While I missed writing, it was a refreshing change and it allowed me to have more time for anything. And with the incoming journey, I would have time to train myself, to earn the trust of the guards that would accompany Arya and I and to develop this friendship with Arya. The tune of When you wish upon a Star came in my mind even though I couldn't help myself to smile at the ludicrousness of such thought. But even in such a bleak word, light and fun were welcome things even though it was hard to find it.

A.N.:

1. This chapter wasn't planned as first but I considered it would be interesting to include a "common sense" choice for the SI, not to mention that it would help for the journey arc. And I found it interesting to explore indirectly the immediate aftermath of the intervention in the hall and to give a bit more background to the SI's presence before the start of the story.

2. I wanted to give something of the classical trope tied to ISOT and SI in Westeros, but in a realistic and pratical manner, especially in regards of the context.

3. The two last pieces of information given to Ned before the imminent departure to Winterfell. One out of concern (but possibly with its own issues) and one with a political motive. Just for information, it will be not a Targ bashing, but the SI has at best a neutral and yet scathing opinion on them. Something that will be further explored later in the story.

4. Teaser: for the next chapter, the departure from Darry Castle with a tense encounter and confrontation with a white lion and a scarred hound...

5. Have a good reading !