꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁~~~298 After Conquest~~~꧂
꧁The soft strum of the metal cords of a lute sing softly in the spring air, mixing with the sounds of arrows flying...and missing their target. Sitting on the post with his legs crossed in front of him, Benget Stark watches his little brother Brandon trying to hit the target of hay just in front of him. He smiles softly when the arrow once more flies and misses the target. Jon and Robb stand beside Bran, watching and trying to guide their little brother as best they can as Bran somewhat gets closer to the target.
"Ugh. I keep missing!"
The boy pouts as it reminds Ben of the time when Jon would get so frustrated whenever he'd lose to Ben in sparring. Benget can't remember a time really where Jon could beat him unless he let his younger twin win.
"With that attitude, Bran, you'll never hit anything. Focus your mind, and let the strings guide you through the notes of the song."
"This isn't singing, Ben. It's not playing the lute, either."
"One in the same. A lute has strings and a bow has a string. The strings are meant to be strum with a calm mind. Have the bow become a part of yourself and let loose."
Benget guides is little brother with a soft smile but does not move as he still strums the cords of his lute slowly and without any real solid melody, just letting the lute take his mind wherever. Brandon takes another arrow, knocking it as Robb watches with his arms folded.
"Father is watching.."
Jon states, looking up on the ramparts above the courtyard where Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard are watching with soft smiles down at Bran. Though as Jon glances at her, her soft smile turns hard and sour as she looks away from the child that is not her own.
"And your mother. Ben is right: let the bow guide you to your target."
"Okay..."
He takes another arrow from the rack of arrows and bows beside Benget as he moves back to his firing line close to the target. Trying to do as instructed, he lines up his shot, standing steadily but his bow arm is as stiff as a board, to which Robb notices.
"Relax your bow arm."
He says to which Bran only really responds with a slight shift in his stance before letting loose the arrow, the arrow soaring over the wall behind the target as Jon and Robb burst out laughing as Benget finds himself doing the same.
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?"
Lord Eddard Stark questions a bit sternly but with good humor from up on the ramparts as he looks at his fourth son.
"Keep practicing Bran. Go on."
Bran nods, feeling more confidence go through his system as he grabs another arrow and moves back to the line.
"He couldn't hit water of he fell out of a ship."
Benget turns from where he is sitting, looking beside him as Arya, the little wild wolf she is, stands beside him with a toothy grin so full of life. Benget just grins as he stops strumming the cords to his lute, leaning over a little and grabs a bow and an arrow from the rack beside him before bringing them back up and handing it to Arya with a grin and a raised brow.
"Want to show off a little?"
"Duh! Of course!"
Arya says in excitement as she quickly takes the bow, nocking the arrow as Ben moves his legs out of the way to allow her room to shoot over the fence post. Just as Bran seems ready let loose his arrow, another one whizzes past him, hitting dead center as he quickly spins around, staring at Arya as she has the most smug and humorous grin on her face possible as she bows a little.
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Jon and Robb burst out into fits of laughter as Arya drops the bow, running away as Bran begins to give chase to her around the courtyard.
"Thank you, Ben!"
She calls out as Benget just laughs, setting his lute against the post as he stands to join his brother.
"He's still not listening."
"Well did I ever listen to you when you taught me how to stand properly and hold my sword the right way?"
"No, you didn't listen at all. Not until I rung your head like a Sept bell a few times."
The two twins laugh with each other, remembering old times as if they were yesterday as Lord Stark leaves his wife's side to go and prepare for the journey to the hills outside of Winterfell. Lady Catelyn turns back to look down over the railing on the ramparts, watching the Stark Twins laugh with one another.
"Come on, little brother. Let's go get these arrows. You go get the ones that soared over the wall."
"Was there ever a time where you weren't the boss of me?"
Jon asks through a smile as Benget takes an arrow from the target, pointing it at Jon with a grin.
"You had a short bit in our mother's womb to enjoy your freedom from me, Jon. But I, the older brother by ten minutes or so, am forever the boss of you."
The two laugh as Jon nudges his brother's arm and backs off laughing as Benget just kicks at him in a brotherly and friendly sort of way. Jon leaves to go and grab the arrows the Bran had fired over the wall as Ben continues pulling arrows out of the muddy ground before and behind the hay target. Moving back and setting them back in the rack, he feels a set of eyes on him as he looks up, seeing that Lady Catelyn is glowering down on him with scornful eyes. He holds eye contact though, peering up with his almost glowing violet eyes into her scornful ones.
He had always understood yet never understood at the same time her hate for him and his twin. She had never showed him any kindness in his life, nor Jon's.
Sighing heavily, Ben looks away as he finishes racking all of the arrows, wondering he to really do now as he picks up his lute.
"Son."
Benget looks up as he holds his lute, looking at his father approach him.
"Hello, Father."
"That was sound advice you gave him back there. I just hope he remembers it."
"Aye, the same. But lessons and advice from me, Jon, Robb, you or anyone else cannot compare to life's lessons."
Ned nods at Ben's words, the words being straight from Ned's own mouth as he had spoken them to his son just a few years ago. Already in such a short time, Benget had advanced so far in life. He has not much else to learn from Ser Rodrik, having come back from Dorne just a year and a half ago with skills with a spear beyond what he could learn in Winterfell. Dawn still bounces gently on Ben's waist in it's scabbard, the pommel of the hilt glinting in the soft sunlight that pokes through the grey clouds above Winterfell.
"You seem troubled, Father. Has something happened?"
Ben asks and Ned nods.
"Aye, there has. A deserter from the Night's-"
"Can I come whenever you all are going?"
A young voice cuts off Ned as father and son turn to look to see Arya standing behind them, a curious and hopeful look in her eyes.
"You do not have a place where we are going, Arya. You are too young and a Lady should not see such a thing."
"Why not? Where are you going? What are you going to be doing?"
Arya asks with slightly pouty eyes as Ned glances at Ben for a moment before sighing.
"The bannermen have captured a deserter of the Night's Watch in the hills."
Ben nods slightly as he remembers the first time he had seen a man's head removed from his shoulders. The log where men traitors where beheaded was where the deed had been done, the tall stones surrounding it as his Lord Father had said the words in the name of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, in sight of Gods and Men..
"Can I come with you?"
"Arya, no."
"Father, please!"
"Father.."
Ned turns to Benget who holds a calm look on his face whilst his eyes are filled with understanding of the situation.
"Choices are all we have in this world. Let her decide if she is ready to see the real world."
Ned sighs heavily, looking at his son as his words soak in as Ned sighs once more. He turns back to Arya as she holds a hopeful look that would soon he squashed, he knows. Ned nods slightly.
"Alright. The place where we are going is not for the faint of heart, little one. It isn't a place for little girls. It isn't a good place to be. And winter is coming."
꧁~~~Arya Stark~~~꧂
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꧁"White Walkers... The White Walkers..I saw them... I saw the White Walkers...White Walkers.."
The man in irons rambles slightly as two Stark bannermen lead him to the log where it has seemingly been stained red. Arya watches beside her eldest brother, her half brother as she watches the Night's Watch deserter look into the eyes of her father.
"I-I know I'm not right, Lord... I know I was wrong to abandon the Wall and break my vows...but, I saw them. I know what I saw."
The man breathes out heavily, closing his eyes as he tries to bring his breathing back under control.
"I understand I'm a deserter, and for that I must die. I understand... But people need to know. They need to know the White Walkers are coming. I saw them.."
Lord Eddard Stark looks at the man with a long, tired looking face as he nods slowly to his bammermen, who bring the man to his knees. But he does does willingly as he rests his neck over the log where many a man had been beheaded for similar reasons. But none of them had said a word of the Walkers.
"Forgive me, Lord.."
Lord Eddard draws his ancestral sword, Ice, from its scabbard in the wolf's fur as he holds the massive Valyrian blade by the hilt, the tip of the blade touching the ground as the pommel almost comes to his lips. Arya watches on, her eyes still wide as if to catch every little detail.
"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name.."
"Don't look away, Arya."
Bemget states as Arya glances up at her brother who holds a calm look in his glowing violet eyes.
"Don't look away from it."
"..King of the Andals and the First Men.."
Arya looks back to the Night's Watch deserter as her hand reaches up to tightly take Ben's as she squeezes for some kind of reassurance, which Benget gives with a soft squeeze back.
"..Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, here in sight of Gods and Men, sentence you to die."
The Lord of Winterfell speaks as softly as the wind that gently blows through the hills as he lifts the greatsword up into the air.
"In the bleak midwinter.."
The deserter states his final words in a whisper before the Lord of Winterfell brings his ancestral sword down in one fluid motion, taking the man's head and his life in one swing. Arya never looked away.
As she prepares her pony, Benget approaches her, his sword bouncing gently in its scabbard that could probably be needing a replacement soon.
"Do you understand why Fathed did what he did?"
He asks as Arya looks down to the grassy ground, shaking her head a little.
"Our way is the Old Way?"
"Aye. It is. And the First Men believed that those who deliver the sentence must also be the ones to swing the sword."
"I never...I never imagined death being so.."
Arya trails off a little as Ben nods slightly, crouching down and taking her small hands into his.
"Death has many different faces, Arya. Whether it be from death by sickness, by the sword, or by old age, death is all the same in the end. And it's coming for all of us one day. It's up to us to make the most of the life we are given before death comes to us. And hopefully, with the life that we live, when death comes, we can greet him like an old friend as he gently takes us away."
Benget whispers softly to her as Arya, though very young and smart, still doesn't fully understand his words. But she nods nonetheless as Benget smiles slightly, knowing she doesn't understand but it is a start.
"Come on, let's get you home. Jory is taking you with most of the bannermen through the other rode. The rest of are going through the Wolfswood."
"But don't you want to come with me instead of going through the Wolfswood after..after what had happened?"
Benget swallows the lump forming in his throat as he and everyone else can remember how he didn't step foot in those woods for over a year after what had happened. And after Ned had given him Dawn, he spent much of his time in the South instead of in the North. The night in the Wolfswood hangs over him like a dark shadow. Nkt as bad as the shadow that casted over those who had survived the events of Summerhall where the Kings of winters past are now gone, but still definitely there.
Shaking his head, Benget tries to give a reassuring smile to his little sister but it doesn't fully convince her. But Benget picks her up gently, placing her on the saddle of her pony as he smiles at her.
"You best get on home to your mother, now. I'm sure she misses you."
"Mother misses me like she misses a rock in her shoe."
"Now, now, that's me and Jon's responsibility to make her miss us like that, not you."
Reaching forward, Benget ruffles his little sister's hair as she giggles happily. Glancing to the side where Jory Caasel rides his stallion, Ben give a quick nod to his friend before departing to go to his own horse.
꧁~~~Benget Stark~~~꧂
꧁As they ride along on the rode through the Wolfswood, his violet eyes catch something lying in the rode just past the bridge, his nose smelling the stench of something in the beginning stages of rot. As kicks his horse's side a little, moving his black stallion along as Jon, Robb, Theon, Ser Rodrik and Ned do the same. Coming across the bridge, all of them dismount as Ben keeps his hand resting calmly on the pommel of Dawn at his waist.
"What in Seven Hells is that?"
Robb asks as a dead stag lies in the road, its antler looks to be snapped off as it's body is torn open, it's guts spilled out.
"What could've done this?"
"Mountain lion?"
"There aren't aren't mountain lions in these woods, idiot."
Benget remarks to Theon as the Greyjoy sends a quickly glare as Eddard kneels down to observe the corpse. Already, maggots and flies eat at the dead beast as his fingertips grazes where the antler had snapped off.
"Theres a blood trail going over that way, Father."
Jon points out as Ned's eyes follow to where his son is pointing. Standing up, the six men begin to follow the trail down the hill of the bridge, looking into the grass, leaves and sticks where faint traces of blood and tracks follow, their swords put and ready in case of any attack at all.
But looking down, a figure lies on the ground which Ben immediately notes as a wolf. But it is a massive wolf.
"It's a freak."
Theon states as Eddard kneels down, looking at the poor beast with the antler lodged in its throat. Five baby pups suck at their dead mother's teats still as the Starks and the Cassel look on.
"It's a direwolf."
"But there are no direwolves south of the Wall."
Robb states in confusion as Ben raises a brow, pointing at the ground.
"Well I see five living."
"What are they going to do now? There mother is dead."
The little Bran asks as his father yanks the antler out of the wolf, setting it back down to the ground as he sheathes his sword.
"They don't belong down here."
"Better a quick death. They'll never survive without there mother."
"Right."
Theon says like a brown-noser as he unsheathes his dagger, outstretched his arm towards Bran as he holds one of the pups.
"Give it here."
"No! Father, please!"
"Father."
Jon says as his father looks back to him as he motions to the other pups.
"There are five pups. Direwolf pups. The direwolf is the sigil of our House. They belong to yours and Lady Catelyn's five children... They were meant to have them."
Ben smiles to his twin before glancing back to their Lord Father, who stays quiet for a long moment. Ned looks at his children, his frown deepening but he nods nonetheless.
"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves."
He walks away back up the hill without another word as Benget and Jon bend down and begin to pick up the litter of direwolves, passing them off to Bran, Robb and Theon. Bran holds his direwolf, excited and happy but pauses for a moment as he looks at Jon and Benget with questioning eyes.
"But what about you two? Do you not get one?"
"They're meant for you, little brother."
Jon says with a somewhat sad smile as he motions Bran to move along. They begin to track back up the hill before a whimper of a wolf catches all of their attention. Turning back, Benget leans down and moves aside some brush, revealing two more baby pups.
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As Benget leans down to pick them up, he notes that one is as white as winter snow, looking like a ghost in the wind as the other is as black as the night. But what intrigues him more is the eyes of the wolves. The white ghost one has red eyes life a burning embers in a low burning flame while the black as night direwolf pups stares back into his eyes with bright glowing violet ones of its one.
He passes the white wolf to Jon as he holds the black one in his arms, still staring into its eyes.
"Looks like the runts of the litter. Those two are yours, Dayne."
"Aye, I'm part Dayne. But at least the gods blessed me and Jon enough to make us Stark and Dayne rather than a fucking Greyjoy."
He remarks as Theon frowns, dropping his grin as Jon and Robb laugh a little.
"Come on. We don't want to be standing around here 'til winter comes. Let's go join back with Father."
Jon says as and the others move to leave, but Benget stays behind for a moment longer, still staring into the seemingly glowing violet eyes as the direwolf pup looks into his own.
꧁~~~A/N~~~꧂
And that's another one done. That chapter was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it! I through in Arya being at the execution because I felt like it really and Ben gets his own direwolf pup, so, yay!
Hope you all enjoy! Leave comments with feedback if you wish. It is always hugely appreciated!!
Thank you so much for reading!!