Chapter 5

As dawn painted the sky with hues of fire and blood, Alaric Stark, the young wolf of the North, awoke in the cradle of his new life. The castle of Starfall stood imposing and solitary against the horizon, its ancient stones bathed in the golden light of the rising sun, silent witnesses to the tides of history that flowed to its shores.

The maid who assisted him in dressing spoke in hushed tones, as if fearful of disturbing the gentle melody of the dawn. Alaric, dressed simply—a gray woolen doublet over a linen shirt and trousers that allowed for freedom of movement for the journey—thanked her with a nod and a shy smile.

Descending the stone steps that led to the dining hall, Alaric was greeted by the aroma of warm bread mixed with the sweet scent of seasonal fruits. The doors opened to a hall bathed in sunlight streaming through high windows, casting patterns of light and shadow across the marble floor.

His mother, Ashara, the lady of sea and storm, and his uncle, Eddard Stark, the silent wolf, were already seated at the table. The room was filled with the sounds of the morning—the clink of silver and ceramics, the whisper of servants' voices, the distant clangor of guards preparing for the journey.

"Good morning, Alaric. Come, join us. We need to discuss the plans for today," called Ned, his voice resonant like the wind's roar through the Godswood trees.

Alaric approached his heart quickening with anticipation for what was to come. He took his place beside his uncle, receiving a plate laden with eggs, bread, and chunks of fruit.

"Good morning, my little wolf. Did you sleep well?" Ashara inquired, her eyes reflecting the color of the overcast sky that promised rain.

"Yes, I slept very well, Mother," Alaric replied, returning the affection with a kiss on her cheek, which she received with a radiant smile.

They ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the meal prepared with the care of Starfall's cooks. The bread, crusty on the outside and soft within, was slathered with a layer of butter that melted and dripped between fingers, while the eggs, perfectly cooked, were a simple yet comforting delight.

Ned broke the silence. "Once we finish our breakfast, we will depart for a ship bound for King's Landing, while Rowland and Willan head North with the bodies and Jon," he said, his gaze drifting away for a moment as if seeing the weight of the coming days.

Alaric, his curiosity sharpened, could not contain himself. "Why are we going to King's Landing, and who is Jon?" he asked, leaning slightly forward, his full attention on his uncle.

Ned took a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal truths that could change the course of kingdoms. "We are going to King's Landing to inform King Robert of your rise as the Lord of the North, to report the passing of Lyanna, and to claim the North's reward for its role in the Rebellion. Jon... Jon is my son, born outside of wedlock."

Ashara, upon hearing Ned refer to Robert as king, couldn't hide her distaste. A subtle wrinkle formed between her brows, and she returned to her meal with a heaviness of silence.

Alaric, sensing the tension, hastened to change the course of the conversation. "I am looking forward to meeting King Robert and King's Landing. And Jon too," he said with a calculated innocence that softened the atmosphere.

Ned smiled at the boy's response, and the look he exchanged with Ashara was a mix of apprehension and affection. "Jon is a good and strong boy. I am sure you two will get along well."

After the meal, Alaric rose to gather his few belongings. The farewell to Starfall was a silent goodbye to the walls that had embraced him, to the shadows that had danced around his cradle.

At the castle entrance, Ashara acted with the swiftness of a mother who knew that each moment before parting was precious. She arranged Alaric's belongings in the carriage, each piece placed with a care that spoke of love and farewell.

"We will ride together to the port, Alaric," said Ned, leading the boy to the horse that would carry them on their first journey together.

The ride to the port was a tapestry of conversations and silences, of shared looks that spoke more than words. Alaric felt the land of Westeros beneath the horse's hooves, each step a beat in the heart of his new world.

Upon arrival, Ned dismounted with the grace of a warrior and helped Alaric down. "Prepare yourself for a new adventure, my young wolf," he said with a smile that hid the concerns of a man who carried the North on his shoulders.

"I am ready, Uncle Ned," Alaric affirmed, his voice steady though his eyes shone with the excitement of his first sea voyage.

Together, they boarded the ship that would take them to King's Landing. Ashara stood behind Alaric, her hands on his shoulders offering silent comfort, while Ned remained by her side, a pillar of strength and protection.

The ship pulled away from the port, and the sun, now a disc of fire about to hide behind the mountains, painted the sea in shades of purple and gold. The distant horizon promised challenges and triumphs, and Alaric, with the blood of the Starks and Daynes coursing through his veins, faced the future with a determination that was the hallmark of his lineage.

And as night fell over Starfall, leaving behind the lands that witnessed his rebirth, Alaric Stark braced himself to face the vast world of intrigues and glories, of dragons and thrones, armed with the wisdom of two lives and the heart of a true Northerner.