Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: A man in search of forgiveness

Solarium of the Lady of Barrowhall.

Moments after the Widow of Barrowton bestowed a regal welcome upon her King...

The Quiet Wolf's hairs stood up at the presence of that disturbing gaze.

From the thin, feminine chin to the perfect nose, a face expressed gentleness and serenity, but the remaining half... belonged to that of a ravenous hawk on the prowl.

'Keep calm, Ned. You've faced far worse situations than this, and she can't hurt you...' Ned's encouraging thought broke in half.

It was only then that the King in the North realized that, technically, the last argument was not as sure as he thought.

His loyal Green Knights, who had elected and crowned him as their ruler before the Old Gods, did not swear never to harm their King...

Betrayal and failure to help were the taboos of the pact signed with the blood and magic of the Druid King of the Isle of Faces...

But what was meant by betrayal? Would a vassal of his still be able to raise his sword against him if under just cause?

Was the pact bound only under the same individuals who swore the oath, and could it exclude any third parties in their service?

These and several other questions plagued Eddard Stark's already unsettled mind.

He should have asked the damn kid for all the specifics. Ser Duncan defined the terms of the blood oath agreed upon with the King of the Children of the Forest.

Bloody Snow had reassured him that if Ned made a sincere apology to Lady Barbrey, her grudge would be forever buried and erased from the history books.

'But then why wasn't I offered bread and mead at the door?' That he was not yet protected by the sacred rights of hospitality made the descendant of the Ancient Kings of Winter break into a cold sweat.

The veteran of two wars swallowed the porcupine and took courage.

"Lady Barbrey, I thank you for your warm welcome. Your lands and city radiate the icy North with warmth, splendour, and prosperity. Barrowton is a jewel of these lands of rare beauty on par only with the Lady who administers and protects it.

I am proud and soothed to think that such a worthy vassal of House Stark guards Barrowton and its lands." So eloped Ned gallantly without a trace of falsehood after bowing.

"You do me honour, your majesty. Your words have touched me to the core, making me blush for these sincere but undeserved praises of yours..." Barbrey approached the guest's cadre, moving it with her hands in welcome.

"Please come closer, my King. Allow me to offer you in person bread, salt and mead at my table." The high yellow and black leather backrest decorated with intaglio carvings depicting the banners of House Dustin and Ryswell concealed a silver plate with slices of seeded white bread, a gold bowl filled with what appeared to be mead, and a small pearl condiment bowl containing the most refined pink salt.

The seasoning salt of the Barrowlands had long since achieved primacy among all the noble and princely kitchens of Westeros and Essos.

The salt flavoured with the essence of roses was among the most expensive and valuable in the market. Two silver stags for every ounce to all the Northern Houses and one silver moon to all the great Houses and cities south of the Neck.

It was even rumoured that in the distant markets of Qarth, that spice reached the price of a gold coin.

Soon Ned would have to make use of Barrowhall's ravens. He had to warn his chief attendant Vayon Poole to stock up on every valuable commodity in the North. Winterfell would have to feed an army of Eastern Nobles... Now that he was in Barrowton himself, he might as well take the opportunity to acquire a good supply of salt.

Ned prepared to sit down, dipped a loaf of slack bread into the bowl and politely grabbed an excellent bite of divine protection.

Lady Barbrey calmly took a seat on the opposite throne, giving her guest plenty of time to enjoy the exquisite mead.

The uncomfortable silence was almost unbearable...

Ned decided to plant the first flower in the barren land.

"I understand Ser Jorah already arrived in Barrowton a few days ago along with your nephew Ser Domeric. Unfortunately, I have not yet had the pleasure of paying their respects."

The tone of his voice wasn't meant to allude in the slightest to the fact that his vassals and sworn knights hadn't shown up to greet the King at the entrance, but more that Ned and Ser Duncan had honoured their agreements by doing everything in their power to safeguard her loved ones.

Part of Ned hoped that Jorah Mormont might also preside over this meeting... He would have been content with even the slightest impartial, moderating figure in this room.

"Yes, my betrothed Lord Jorah and my nephew Lord Bolton apologize for their absence.

Jorah and Domeric headed off to the training grounds just outside Barrowton, leaving at dawn. My husband-to-be needed to catch up on some fencing lessons, and jousting drills promised to Domeric.

We were not expecting your arrival at such a fervent hour. I had told them that you would most likely not arrive before noon... an error of judgment on my part, Your Grace."

Barbrey expressed a tone and look with a clear undertone [You will have no allies here to support you, Stark. Face the consequences of your mistakes like a man, coward].

The Widow of Barrowton was much like Bloody Snow-she left nothing to chance.

"Well, if that is the case, I see nothing to forgive, my lady."

"Too kind, my King... So, it has come to my attention that House Stark should incur substantial expenses for the welfare of the North and the safety of us all..." Ned interrupted Barbrey.

"My lady, before we move on to 'financial' matters, allow me..." lady Dustin did not like the interruption.

"The restoration of the Moat Cailin and the construction of a prosperous new sea route... Quite a project indeed, Your Grace. My accountants have estimated four million eight hundred and eighty gold dragoons of minimum expense barring delays and 'complications'...

Also, you seem to have decided to help your good friend, King Robert, heal the Crown's financial difficulties.

If I am not mistaken, one million five hundred thousand gold dragons will be bestowed by the end of the year. Let's hope that it will be the Crown that will bear the cost of transportation...

I doubt very much that House Stark will ever see a single ounce of that gold back unless the beloved ruler of the South drastically changes his exacting needs." That was a dirty, painful stab in the bass.

Ned thought that Lady Barbrey had not yet been informed of that breach in Winterfell's coffers.

A little over three weeks had passed since that tragic but private conversation with the King. And Robert had given him his word that he would not reveal the name of the Crown's new monetary supporter before the Tournament began...

How did she know? That it was Ser Helman who had revealed it to her?

"My lady..." Ned's second feeble attempt was overpowered by a more profound voice determined to continue.

"Then there's the expense involved in moving, harbouring and integrating over five hundred thousand new Northerners, one hundred thousand of whom will be welcomed in Winter Town and neighbouring lands.

Not to mention the cost of renovating and expanding the city itself, Your Grace. Another investment that will require urgent liquidity from early next year..." Ned's stomach twisted in on itself as soon as he heard those harsh and bitter truths aloud.

"Lady Barbrey, please allow me to..."

"AND FINALLY...the last considerable upcoming expense. More than seven thousand two hundred guests to be hosted with pageantry, customs, decorations and banquets worthy of the Yi Ti tradition for a time yet to be determined.

A truly remarkable display of magnanimity, Your Grace.

House Dustin and House Mormont extend their most heartfelt tributes and thanks for your stupendous wedding gift.

Without your precious and onerous sacrifice, we could not have invited the representatives of Carcosa to our wedding."

Ned paled. That devilish witch might have told him what he'd had for breakfast and how much he'd spent that morning at the inn.

In all likelihood, Barbrey was even aware of the exact number of grains of wheat crammed into Winterfell's pantries!

"Now Your Grace, it is time to see how, and by what advantageous means the Never Winter Bank can return the favour towards House Stark...

Let's see... leaving a necessary reserve for all eventualities of at least three hundred thousand gold dragons in Winterfell's coffers... mmm... Yes.

House Stark will need to borrow at least 4,700,000 gold dragons.

Obviously, the Never Winter Bank will not back down from this need, even though it is 'considerably' out of reach of any other lending institution in Westeros.

After all, I cannot refuse to respond to my King's request for help.

However..." Ned could not contain himself. He sprang to his feet and thundered:

"Lady Barbrey, please! I beg you to grant me the chance to forgive myself!"

Barrowton's widow paused, expressing a deviously shocked and confused face.

"Forgive you, my King? And for what, may I ask? I do not see how you or your Household could have given me offence..." Now Ned knew what the woman wanted.

"I wish with all my heart that I, Eddard of House Stark, may be allowed to admit all the wrongs aimed at you and your late husband, Lord William, perpetuated in the past by myself and my family. But, please, my lady, there is no longer any need to continue this charade.

I will admit everything... I will admit my faults before the entire North if necessary, but please at least grant me the opportunity to expose them truthfully to you first!" Barbrey's mask melted like a candle in the middle of a bonfire...

The feigned astonishment dissipated, the eyes gave off malicious intent, and the mouth tightened into a severe and unyielding form.

"Go on, Lord of Winterfell...

For what wrongs did you and your House owe me an apology?" Lady Dustin.

"My brother Brandon brought dishonour upon you by stealing your purity without keeping his marriage vows...and my father Rickard merely offered flimsy hunting and property rights to the lands of Dragon Sea Point to your father Lord Rodrick for..." Ned was unaware of the 'full' truth on the matter until Duncan spelt out all the details...

"For? Go on..." Barbrey.

"For bargaining to keep quiet about your relationship and pregnancy.

For forcing you to drink moon tea and have an abortion.

I swear on my honour, neither Brandon nor I knew about it... If he had known..." Ned froze, not knowing whether to continue or not.

Barbrey rose to his feet, roaring rancorous indignation.

"You want me to believe that if Brandon had known about the baby inside my womb, he would have renounced his marriage to Catelyn Tully?

Do you really, Stark? Do you really believe that?

You knew Brandon better than I did, Ned. Look me in the eye and tell me you honestly believe your brother would have gone against your father's wishes to make an honest woman of me and prevent our son from growing up a bastard!"

"I...I don't. Brandon...I can't say I knew my brother that well.

We'll never know, Barbrey. But unfortunately, our father denied my brother the chance to prove himself.

Of one thing, I am confident, though.

Brandon was impulsive and belligerent. He was a true hothead, but he would pay any price, face any enemy, and throw himself at any army for those he loved.

Bastard or not, Brandon would have loved that child with all his heart. He would never have given up his own blood." Ned believed with all his heart in what he affirmed.

"Your father!..." the woman gathered her breath to give vent to all her wrath. "'The Honorable' Rickard Stark sang me a different song.

He had led me to believe that Brandon would disown our son!

He would perjure himself in front of the Old Gods that the child was someone else's less than his own! Then, he tricked me with his lies into believing that child would never have a father!

I would never... sigh, sigh... That vile son... YOU BAD STARK!

DO YOU HEAR ME, RICKARD?!

WHEREVER YOU ARE, I WISH YOU A THOUSAND YEARS OF PENANCE FOR YOUR SINS!!!" Barbrey overturned all the items on the work table. She grabbed a glass jug and smashed it against the wall.

Then the woman gave in to tears and cries of pain, venting all the pain she had been repressing for those years.

Ned's face became saddened when he heard that evil omen for his father's soul... but he resisted, giving the heartbroken woman space and time.

It wasn't engaging in his House or finances that had stopped his hand. No amount of gold in the world would prevent him from defending his family's memory. But Barbrey...

She deserved that right, no matter how cruel and immoderate.

Ned stood patiently, waiting for the woman to come to her senses.

Barbrey spent nearly ten minutes recovering. Finally, the woman poured herself a generous cup of wine even though it was more than an hour before noon... After drinking, she quickly adjusted her wet face and said:

"Continue, Stark. You have much more to say..."

"I will not continue any further until you have at least attempted to understand my father's motives, Lady Dustin. He has already paid amply for his sins and deserves to rest in peace."

Lady Barbrey did not utter a word on the subject. At first, it seemed she wanted to respond in kind to such a bold statement, but she restrained herself.

"I will not justify my father's choices by placing the blame exclusively on Maester Walys, his most trusted advisor at the time, nor will I say that the previous Lord of Winterfell had no choice....

However, now that the burden of the North has been entrusted to me, I understand his reasons. My father had seen many winters, many of which he had to face.

The winter before the rebellion brought the North to its knees. Dozens of villages buried in snow, thousands of mothers watched helplessly as the cold took their children away. Hundreds of honest workers who had to resort to brigandage to feed their families....

Hunger, frost, death and suffering. The history books and stories remind us noble families with a name like Heroes of the harsh North who face the true pains of winter, but those same books barely mention those millions of people who have no high walls, always burning hearths and full pantries to sustain them...

The Reach continued to bleed us dry by taking advantage of our plight, the Crown had not sent aid since the days of Aegon V. Only Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully showed a sincere interest in our painful condition before the miracles of House Tallhart.

Only now that I bear a portion of his heavy burden do I understand his choice, dishonorable as it is.

Had the gods granted my father a few more years to see with his own eyes the North of today, a North uplifted and more prosperous than ever, there he would be here today at your feet begging for your forgiveness."

End Part I

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