[In front of the Doors to the Throne Room]
Pacing back and forth in front of the doors to the throne room, Benjen was growing restless at his brother and nephew's delay, he was sure that word of this 'grand' announcement of Lord Jon Arryn's should have reached the two by now, and yet, still no sign of them.
Just as he was about to call for someone to fetch them, Ned and Alaric, followed closely by his nephew's sworn shield Ser Torrhen, rounded the corner of the hall and came before him and the doorway into the throne room, much to the relief of Benjen, they were still on time, only the gods knew the kind of commotion the King would create if he hadn't seen his beloved friend and sworn brother in the crowd.
"By the gods, finally, I truly thought you lot were set to miss this damned announcement!" Benjen exclaimed, quickly covering his mouth and looking around hoping he didn't accidentally slight someone important, or gods be good, Lord Jon Arryn or Robert Baratheon.
"Relax brother, we were alerted with ample time to make it here, however, when we went to retrieve Ser Torrhen, our cousin, decided to have a spar with Ser Damon Lannister." Ned told him, flashing their distant cousin a joking grin, the northern knight laughing at the 'slight' Ned had given him, Alaric too had a small smile upon his face.
"Aye, and a grand bout it was, I truly learned much in the way of the sword from Ser Damon, who knew, there were some good Lannisters after all," Torrhen responded to the jab with a mirthful smile while nudging Alaric, the boy too holding a small amused smile at his sworn shields words.
"Well, shall we?" Ned turned to him and said, the group of Starks making their way into the grand hall of the throne room of The Red Keep, a grand sight to be seen, beautiful vibrant walls, massive windows lined the upper walls, and the grandest sight of them all of course, was the gigantic cluster of steel that was the monstrosity so many lust toward.
'The Iron Throne.' Benjen thought to himself, a little apprehensive as they made their way down the aisle of onlookers, courtiers, and nobles alike, being led by one of the guards to the place that was 'assigned' to them.
'More likely it was given to Ned by his sworn brother and friend the new King, and we just so happen to get to stand with him at the front.' Benjen thought inwardly chuckling as he took in the absurdity and extravagance of the southern throne room.
"Southerners and their pompous need to display wealth never changes." He could hear his nephew Alaric mutter as they finally settled in their spot, Benjen could only shake his head in light amusement as his nephew no doubt had been told stories of grand halls and lavage feasts the southerners hold constantly
Thankfully, the group of Starks along with every other guest in the throne room only need wait for a moment longer before Lord Jon Arryn entered the room, followed by Robert Baratheon, and curiously, the Old Lion, Lord Tywin Lannister himself.
As the normal protocol went on and courtiers and nobles paid pleasantries to the new king, Jon Arryn finally raised his hand to quiet down the crowd, the golden pin symbolizing his station as the new Hand of The King proudly displayed upon his right breast.
"Lords and Ladies, I thank you for gathering here so quickly, it is with the utmost pleasure that I now announce to you all that a new royal fleet has begun production, and if the seven smiles down upon us, shall be up and running, ready for an all-out assault on the final Targaryen stronghold of Dragonstone!" Lord Arryn declared loudly, much to the applause of all of those gathered, the sincerity in their applause while questionable, was truly a loud ordeal.
"Not only is this undertaking a call for celebration as the war now comes to its close end, but along with this, I have another announcement to make, His Grace, King Robert Baratheon, First of his name, shall marry Lady Cersei Lannister within a moon from today!" Lord Jon declared, much to Roberts's chagrin from the looks of it, despite his obviously sour disposition to the announcement, Cersei Lannister looked beyond elated.
As Benjen looked toward the Old Lion and his daughter, he could see the usual stoic look on Lord Tywin's face, except, there was an ever so slight hint of something that had the makings of a smile, whether it was out of happiness for his daughter, or pride for his families risen station, Benjen did not know, but he leaned toward the latter holding true.
Despite the general joyous yet smug smile plastered on Lady Cersei's face, Ser Jaime couldn't have a more different look, the young king's guard knight looked ever so dismayed despite the look of his twin baring such a big difference.
With the announcement given and the proceedings of the court starting to begin, Benjen, Ned, Torrhen, and Alaric all left the throne room to find something better to do, no doubt there were plenty of things that the group of Starks could find to occupy themselves with that would be time better spent then standing around as the southerners went on with their royal court.
'The noble protocols and drawn-out pleasantries would have me ready to jump off of the wall at any second if I could just from being there.' Benjen thought, a slight shiver running down the young man's back as he dreadfully thought of the boredness that would overcome him if he was required to attend the royal court, not even his father, gods rest his soul, who was famed for his southron ambitions, could stomach holding court in such a manner.
Deciding that he was feeling up to some light training with a wooden sword, the six and ten Benjen said his farewells for the afternoon to his brother, cousin, and nephew as he made his way to the training yard.
While there he would receive pointers from various knights and warriors would train his skill with a blade while killing time, counting down to the moment that they could finally leave this shit-smelling, rat-infested city of mummers and snakes.
[The Next Day, The Old Gate, Kings Landing]
It was the beginning of a new day and the Northmen were finally making preparations to return home and hopefully go back to being indifferent toward southern politics, in kind to the treatment they had always received from the rest of the realm as well.
Benjen, who was accompanied by his nephew Alaric and Ser Torrhen, was currently walking through the northern armies camp that was situated outside the Old Gate, in the northern part of King's Landing.
As the trio were walking around, making sure ample preparations were being made and the process of packing everything up was being done in a timely manner, a loud sudden commotion erupted among the crowd as they heard a loud booming voice that could only belong to one such man among the Northmen.
"Where is my nephew!" They heard exclaimed in a boisterous tone, the distant sound giving way to the hulking frame of the Lord of the Last Hearth, a giant man whose ancestors are believed to be descended from giants themselves, that man of course being The Greatjon.
'sigh, here he comes.' Benjen thought, already tired from the whole routine of Alaric's existence having been revealed to all of the Northerners.
'For the life of me, I still can not possibly fathom what led father to such a decision as the one he made regarding Alaric and hiding his existence from the north and everyone else.' Benjen shook his head, thinking about his late father's decision.
"Ah, there you are boy!" Greatjon exclaimed as he and Benjen's eyes met, prompting the giant of a man to come straight toward them, shoving soldiers and servants alike aside as he made all haste toward Alaric.
Finally arriving in front of the boy and giving him a good once over, Benjen could see a frown marring the Greatjon's face as he continued to study Alaric as if he was looking for something in particular.
Alaric, the current target of Greatjons's scrutiny, couldn't be less bothered as he in kind looked toward his departed mother's older brother, a curious look resting upon his young countenance.
With perfect timing, Ned soon came within sight of the group, followed by Ser Rodrik Cassel, a grizzled veteran, and highly skilled warrior, having been knighted by Lord Tully himself for his actions on the trident.
'Speaking of Lord Tully, he sure didn't look pleased last I saw him.' Benjen thought almost amusedly about the dire look on the aging Lord of Riverruns' face when he last saw him pacing through the halls of the Red Keep.
"Bahaha, boy, no matter how hard I look you don't have enough of an umber look to you!" Greatjon loudly declared, a large smile betraying his seemingly disappointed words.
"Well, I suppose the new Lord of Winterfell ought to look like a Stark, now shouldn't he?" Ned asked with a light chuckle as he went over toward the Greatjon and the two shared a quick greeting, grasping each other's forearm.
"Ha, Ned my good friend, I guess your words do ring true, although, I can tell already from the look of him that our little Lord here will grow to at least be the size of the Demon of the Trident." Greatjon declared
"I can only imagine what kind of warrior and man our nephew will be once he reaches his majority, after all, the blood of wolves and giants runs through his veins!" Greatjon said, putting a fist to his chest and dropping to one knee, surprising many of the on-lookers as he swiftly and gave his oath of allegiance to an almost stunned Alaric.
'Poor boy probably doesn't understand much of what's going on.' Benjen thought with a light chuckle, only to be stunned in surprise and impressed with his nephew as he in kind, accepted Greatjon's oaths and bid him to rise to his feet.
Once that was all over, the Greatjon promptly swept Alaric from his feet and placed him upon his hulking shoulders, and started going around telling anyone who would listen of his nephew and the greatness that awaited the one who 'held the blood of wolves and giants', something he would go on to do for a while before the King and his escort had arrived to see them off, well, more like to see Ned off.
'By the old gods, if Ned had been born of women, Robert would've tried to marry him instead of Lyanna.' Benjen thought amusedly, before feeling a pang of sadness and guilt for the event that followed the Tourney at Harrenhall.
'Damn those dragons to the hottest of hells.' he thought bitterly before his attention was promptly directed toward the King and Ned as they finished their farewells, giving ample time for the last of their arrangements to be completed as they finally could set off and leave this rats nest of a city, along with the smell of shit that forever lingered around it, literally and metaphorically.
[Later... The King's Road, Crossroads Inn]
The northern army had been traveling for well over a week now and they had come to a stop by an old in sitting at the crossroads between the King's Road, High Road, and River Road, the Inn was aptly named the Crossroads Inn and it had barely enough food and drink for the Northern nobles, not to mention the some twenty thousand or so troops at their back.
That number was only growing by the day as some of the now grizzled veterans were managing to find themselves wives and companions among the people of firstly the Crownlands and now the Riverlands as well.
At first, some of the more conservative of the northern nobility had been against the intermarrying of northmen and women from the Riverlands, however, after Alaric had a word with Ned, he managed to calm them down and pose some noteworthy reasons why this should be encouraged, one of said reasons being the small population of the north as it is compared to the vast swathes of land they hold.
In time, Benjen was sure they would likely either adapt to the harsh life the north brings, or they would just try and leave, however, he was sure that those that did stay, would help usher in a larger populace for the north to call on.
Currently, Benjen, Alaric, Ned, and Ser Torrhen, along with a very drunk Greatjon were sitting at a table in the Inn, the four men, himself barely counting as a man-grown being just shy of six and ten, were drinking and having a decent time among the other nobles, Alaric of course, only being a boy of three was left with juice, something he didn't look all to happy about.
One thing of note, was his little scowl seemed to charm many of the tavern wenches and waitresses alike as he kept getting compliments and his cheek pinched from the various women inside the Inn, another thing the poor boy wasn't all too thrilled about.
Oddly enough, he more so looked like a man defeated rather than that of an annoyed child.
Despite this, it didn't stop the Greatjon from booming out in fits of laughter and proclaiming that his nephew would make many a lady blush and mayhaps even sire a snow or two once he reached his majority, Ned, the always honorable one, could only shake his head at Greatjons antics, but he too held a small smile at his nephew's plight as he was currently trying to fight off the young daughter of the Innkeeper.
As Benjen looked toward his last reaming brother, he could see that from his face, although he may be smiling, it was only a hollow smile, the reason for that being the small babe he had returned with along with Lya's bones.
Benejn still couldn't believe that the small child Ned had been passing off as his bastard was truly that of Rhaegar's, and if their dearly departed sisters' words were anything to go by, the current rightful heir to the throne, despite this revelation, he and thankfully Ned too, had no plans in pushing the boys claim, that damned chair only brought pain and ruin to those who sought after it.