Author's Note:
Hey guys, one thing I just realized is I completely forgot to add in Tundra, Ned's Direwolf, in the chapter, so I'm honestly too lazy to go through the entire chapter and edit it and add her in, so just imagine she's Ned's silent shadow lol.
I'll make sure to add explicit mentions of her in future chapters centered around the Vale storyline, but yeah, just wanted to add this real quick in case anyone noticed her absence.
[The Vale, Nearing the Bloody Gate, 3rd Moon, 299AC]
The road into the Vale had not changed from Ned's memories.
Ned had half expected it to, though he could not have said why. The mountains still rose sharp and unyielding on either side, their slopes steep and unforgiving, the path between them narrow enough that a handful of men could hold it against an army if they had the will.
The wind carried the same chill it always had, cutting through cloak and mail alike, and the silence of the heights pressed in from all sides.
And despite all of that, it felt smaller now.
Or perhaps he had simply grown.
Ahead of him rode Ser Waymar Royce, his posture straight in the saddle, his cloak shifting with the wind as he guided them up the final stretch toward the Gate. Behind Ned came the rest of the party, thirty riders in all, chosen for speed and discipline rather than spectacle. Among them rode the Greatjon Umber, too large for the mountain path and too stubborn to care, and Lord Artos Stark of High Hill, who rode in silence, his eyes always moving, always measuring.
The thirty riders that accompanied them had been handpicked among Ser Waymar's company of outriders.
Lord Royce's third son had come a long way since that day when he had sworn his sword in service of Alaric and House Stark.
The contingent kept their steady pace, riding along the way as the wind rustled around them.
They had spoken little in the last stretch of the climb.
The Vale had a way of quieting men.
At last, the road bent, and the Gate came into view.
The Bloody Gate stood as it always had, since the Age of Heroes, stone set into the mountain itself, banners of the falcon snapping in the wind, its towers watching the road with the patience of something that had seen countless armies pass and turned most of them away.
But the gates were already open.
Ned slowed his horse slightly, his gaze narrowing.
"They're expecting us," Artos said quietly.
"Aye," Ned replied.
Waymar did not slow. He rode forward with purpose, and Ned followed.
As they approached, the men waiting at the Gate came into clearer view, and at their head stood not only the acting Knight of the Gate, but two lords Ned had not expected to see so far from their seats.
He had sent a raven ahead of their journey, but he hadn't expected to meet the man he was sent east to talk to so soon.
Lord Yohn Royce stood in full armor, his heavy bronze plates catching the light in dull glints, the runes etched into his armor glowing a very faint white, recalling the memory of Alaric "fixing" the runes on the man's armor years ago. The Lord of Runestones' presence was as solid and unmoving as the mountains behind him. Beside him stood Lord Horton Redfort, older, thinner, but no less watchful, his eyes sharp as they took in the approaching Northerners.
And just behind them, standing slightly apart but clearly in command of the Gate itself, was Ser Donnel Waynwood, the second son of Lady Anya Waynwood.
Waymar drew up first and dismounted in one smooth motion.
"My lord father," he said, bowing his head, but not too low, more so bowing out of familial respect, his true loyalty now reserved for Alaric and him alone.
Lord Royce regarded him for a moment, then gave a short nod, a small smile spreading across his face.
"You've ridden far, my son," he said, embracing his son before pulling away and giving the group a once-over. "And not alone it would seem."
Waymar stepped aside, allowing Ned to come forward.
Ned swung down from his horse, his boots striking the stone with a quiet weight that carried more presence than noise. Red Rain, his valyrian steel sword rattling in its sheath at his side.
"Lord Royce," he said, inclining his head, then turning to the other Vale Lord next to them. "Lord Redfort."
Yohn Royce's gaze settled on him, steady and direct.
"Lord Eddard Stark," he said. "It has been a while now, hasn't it?"
"It has," Ned agreed.
"I trust that son of yours is treating my precious daughter with the dignity befitting of her?" He inquired with a raised brow, more so out of amusement, no doubt having read countless letters from Ysilla writing about the two and their ironclad relationship.
"Aye, before this blasted war, those two were attached at the hip, honestly im quite surprised she isn't with child yet," Ned replied, with a wry look at recalling the earful he had gotten from Catelyn about how those two were like rabbits, during his time in the south.
Lord Royce only snorted at the comment, no doubt thinking the same.
Lord Redfort stepped forward then, offering a slight nod.
"My lord," he said. "You are welcome in the Vale. Though I suspect you did not come simply to renew old friendships."
Ned allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile.
"No," he said. "I did not."
The Greatjon soon dismounted with far less grace, his boots hitting the ground with a thud that echoed off the stone walls.
"About time," he said, his voice carrying easily. "After all of this gods damned riding through mountains, we can finally get down to business."
Waynwood's men shifted slightly at that, hands tightening on spear shafts, though no one moved beyond that, the men more wary of the famed "Mountain-Slayer" and his massive frame.
Artos dismounted more quietly, stepping forward to stand just behind Ned's shoulder.
Royce's eyes flicked briefly to the Greatjon, then back to Ned.
"I must admit, I was quite surprised when you sent me that raven. I would've expected a rider or envoy, but to think you came yourself, must be more serious than I thought."
"Aye, I felt this matter was best attended to in person," Ned said.
"And you come with armed men," Royce continued, his tone even. "Not many, but enough to make a point."
"They are for the road, I remember all too well the blight that is the moon clansmen," Ned said. "Nothing more."
Royce studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.
"I believe you," he said. "Or I would not have told them to open the Gate."
Ser Donnel Waynwood stepped forward then, his posture formal but not hostile.
"The Vale is not blind to what is happening beyond these mountains," he said. "We've had our own reports. Rumors, if nothing else."
"Rumors travel faster than truth," Artos said quietly.
The Knight of the Gate inclined his head slightly at his words.
"Aye, that they do," he agreed. "Which is why we prefer to hear the truth directly."
His gaze settled on Ned.
"So, Lord Eddard," he said, "I suppose you've come to give it to us."
Ned met his eyes.
"Aye," he replied, taking one last look at the gathered men. "I have."
They were not kept waiting at the Gate.
Royce turned without ceremony, gesturing for them to follow, and the party moved through the stone passage and into the Vale proper. The air shifted as they passed within, the wind was less sharp, the space opening up beyond the narrow confines of the pass.
Still, the sense of being watched did not fade.
It rarely did in the Vale, it was said that the very mountains had eyes in this land.
They were brought into a wide hall just within the Gate, large enough to hold a company of men, its walls lined with banners of the falcon and the various houses sworn to the Eyrie. A long table had been set, though no food had been laid out, this was not a feast, but a meeting.
Lord Royce took his place at the head of the table without hesitation, being the most powerful of the valemen there in attendance, such was his right. Lord Redfort sat at his side. Waynwood remained near the entrance, his position making it clear that while this was Royce's meeting, the Gate itself remained under his authority.
Ned stepped forward, Artos at his right, the Greatjon at his left. Waymar took a place slightly behind them, his presence bridging both sides without needing to speak.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Lord Royce leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the table.
"So, my lord, if I were a betting man, I would wager that you've come to ask the Vale to join your war," he said.
It was not a question, more of a statement than anything.
Ned did not pretend otherwise, having too much respect for the lord to even try and play politician, a role he knew all too well he was suited toward either way.
"Aye, I have indeed, Lord Royce," he said.
Lord Redfort's gaze sharpened.
"And what war would that be, my lord?" he asked. "There are several, depending on who you ask."
Ned met his eyes.
"The one that will decide the fate of the realm, well, I suppose if my nephew were here, he would say the War that aims to exterminate the lions," he said, a grim chuckle coming out.
The Greatjon let out a loud laugh.
"Aye, that's one way of putting it," he boomed.
Lord Royce did not smile.
"We've heard much," he said. "A Stark crowned in the Riverlands. Lannister forces broken. Even word that you have pushed the Old Lion back into Harrenhal."
"All true," Ned said.
"And this king of yours," Lord Royce continued, "what kind of man is he?"
Although the man had met Alaric before in the past, loss and war had a way of changing men, something Ned knew all too well.
For a moment, the question hung in the air.
Ned did not answer immediately.
"My nephew is…" Ned paused, considering his words carefully. "He is not a man who seeks war for its own sake. But he will not shy from it when it comes. He protects those who stand with him. And he does not forget those who stand against him."
Lord Redfort studied him.
"That sounds like what many kings in the past have claimed," he said.
Ned shook his head slightly.
"Aye, I admit that to be true," he said. "And yet, Alaric is different, truly I tell you, his only goal is to end this war so our people can go back home, tend the fields, raise families, and live their lives without having to worry about a golden tyrant of a bastard sitting on the throne."
Lord Royce leaned back slightly, letting Ned's words sink in, mulling them over.
"And what else does he seek? I've never known a man to not seek more than such a simple goal," he asked.
"All Alaric wishes for is to end this, but it wouldn't hurt if we were able to cripple the lions and the Westerlands while we're at it," Ned said simply.
The Greatjon snorted.
"Aye, take as many of those cowardly lion's heads as we can, with Steel and Winter," he said.
"Aye," Ned said. "With steel and winter."
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
Waynwood shifted near the door.
"You're asking the Vale to commit its strength," he said. "To leave its mountains and ride into a war that has not yet touched us."
"It has," Artos said quietly.
All eyes turned to him.
Artos met Royce's gaze.
"The moment the Riverlands burned, the war touched you," he said. "The moment the Lannisters marched, it came closer. And now… now it stands at your door, whether you choose to see it or not."
Lord Redfort nodded slowly.
"He's not wrong," he said.
Lord Royce's gaze remained fixed on Ned.
"And if we refuse?" he asked.
Ned did not look away.
"Then you wait," he said. "And you watch. And eventually, the war comes to you anyway, only then, you won't be choosing your side. You'll be reacting to whatever happens."
The Greatjon leaned forward slightly.
"And by then, it'll be too late to matter," he added.
Waynwood's jaw tightened slightly.
"The Vale has endured by not rushing into every conflict," he said.
"And it will continue to endure," Ned replied. "But endurance is not the same as victory."
Lord Redfort folded his arms.
"The Vale is not united on this," he said. "There are those who would ride with you, but at the same time, there are others who would not leave these mountains for any cause."
Ned nodded.
"I expected as much," he said.
Lord Royce's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And yet you came anyway."
"I did," Ned said. "Because I believe the Vale will see what is at stake."
Royce was silent for a long moment.
Then he glanced briefly at Lord Redfort, then back to Ned.
"You'll not find your answer here," he said at last. "Not entirely."
Ned inclined his head.
"No," he said. "I didn't expect to."
Lord Royce straightened.
"If the Vale is to act," he said, "it will be decided at the Eyrie."
Ned met his gaze.
"Then I will go there," he said.
Lord Redfort let out a quiet breath, more of a sigh, really.
"That will not be simple," he said.
"It rarely is," Ned replied.
The Greatjon grinned faintly.
"Good," he said. "I was getting bored of simple."
Lord Royce ignored him and looked back at Ned.
"I will ride with you," he said to Ned. "As will Lord Redfort. If the Vale is to make this decision, it will not be made without all voices heard."
Ned inclined his head once more.
"Then we ride together," he said.
Waynwood stepped forward.
"I will see the Gate held in your absence," he said.
Lord Royce nodded.
"See that you do," he said.
Waynwood's gaze shifted briefly to Ned.
"You'll find the Eyrie less welcoming than this hall," he said. "Be prepared for that."
Ned gave a slight nod.
"I am," he said.
As the meeting broke, and men began to move, to speak in quieter tones, to prepare for what would come next, Ned allowed himself a brief moment of stillness.
The Vale had not yet chosen whether to take up a cause or wait for it to come to them.
But it was no longer standing apart.
And that, for now, was enough.