5Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire is the property of George R.R. Martin. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure is the property of Hirohiko Araki. I own neither of them, this is something I write both for my and others' enjoyment.
A Bizarre World of Ice and Fire
Part I
The Game
Bizarre Arrivals
CATELYN
Winterfell, Westeros – 298 AC
When she was a little girl, running through the halls and the godswood of Riverrun with her younger sister, her even younger brother and their friend Petyr; her lord father and lady mother used to have a saying when... unpredictable things happened one after another. Like the day Edmure had hurt himself while climbing a tree and falling, and then a servant had come to inform them that there had been a small fire in the kitchens, and then a Blackwood and a Bracken had arrived at Riverrun, demanding that her lord father helped them settle some dispute.
In moments like this one, her lord father and lady mother would look at each other, laugh and say that the Gods were japing at them.
Now Catelyn Stark felt that the Gods, Old, New or both; were japing at her and her lord husband, her Ned, too. But these japes didn't bring laughter. These ones were grim and cruel.
It had all begun with the Night's Watch deserter, and with her Ned and their sons, and Greyjoy and... the bastard, riding to deliver the King's justice. She had thought they would come back only with Bran a little less the boy and a little more the man, but that hadn't been the case.
No, her husband and sons had come back with a litter of direwolves. Direwolves! Small, adorable direwolves; but direwolves none the less. And with them they had also brought an unconscious foreigner, dressed in strange clothes and with a hair almost as red as hers. And then had come the terrible news.
Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, who was to her husband like a second father, and her sister's own husband; was dead. And now the King rode North, with the Queen and their children the Princes and Princess, and the Kingsguard, and the Gods only knew how many retainers and servants with them. Preparations needed to be done, and her husband needed time to mourn his mentor.
But there wasn't time for that now. Now was the time for duty.
They had gathered in her lord husband's solar. Her Ned with his long face and dark brown hair and his closely-trimmed, brown yet graying beard, sitting in a simple wooden chair, face cold and unreadable as it always was in these situations. Maester Luwin, standing in front of them, shifted his weight from one foot to another. Jory Cassel, captain of their household guard and son of a man that in life had been her lord husband's friend, standing still at the old grey man's side, hands tied behind his back. And finally herself, sitting in a chair not unlike her lord husband's, at his side.
"He said his name was... Tenmei?" Jory asked of the old grey man, narrowing his eyes as he struggled to pronounce the foreigner's name. "Queer name. Could be a false one."
"In the place he comes from, it may be a name as normal as yours, captain;" Maester Luwin retorted. "I saw to his clothing myself. While... strange, as is to be expected from the people of such faraway lands, he carried no weapons, no hidden pockets. I doubt he is a spy."
"Yet," spoke the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark; his voice and face betraying no emotion; "you say he speaks the common tongue. And can read it. That is rare, especially for a foreigner that, according to you, comes from so far away."
At the old grey man's side, Jory nodded in agreement of his lord's statement. Catelyn had to agree too, it was rare. Extremely so. If it had been one of their smallfolk, a northerner, out there lost in the wild, then they wouldn't be so suspicious. They wouldn't be this suspicious even if it were a southerner, or even some man from the Free Cities. But a man from some remote island far, far away in the East… appearing out of nowhere, knowing their tongue, their letters. How?
"I understand that it is a rare thing, my lord;" Luwin continued. "But if he were truly a spy, or he had any other kind of ill intent, wouldn't it had been better to hide those facts? I only saw confusion in his eyes, not malice. I don't think he knew where he was before I gave him the map. I don't think he even knows what Winterfell is or who you are, my lord, my lady."
"I still think it too strange," Jory retorted. "A stranger from a strange land, after the dead stag and the wolves…" he shook his head. "I tell you my lord, it is a bad omen. All of it. We shouldn't give that foreigner an ounce of our trust."
Her Ned was resting his head on his closed fist now, his elbow against the chair's arm. "Would you prefer that I leave him in that cell forever? Or that I cut his head, Jory?" he asked, looking at the captain, who in turn looked down a little bit ashamed. "A wise man once taught me that the punishment comes after the crime, not before. And this foreigner has yet to do any wrong in my lands."
That we know of, Catelyn added in her thoughts, but she kept her mouth shut. She couldn't avoid a feeling of sadness for her lord husband to sting her heart. Those words had been no doubt of Jon Arryn before they were her lord husband's.
"However, we still ignore much about him;" her lord husband continued, his gaze fixed on Luwin now. "We have a name, but little else. And while the man may not be guilty of any crime now, that does not mean he cannot be dangerous. How did he say he arrived here?"
Luwin bobbled his head. "He didn't say... exactly. He said he was running. That he was fighting and... then nothing. According to him, my lord, my lady."
"Was he assaulted?" Jory wondered. "Or is he a warrior of some kind? Or a thief?"
Was he? Catelyn recalled Ned telling her that Bran had found him because the foreigner was screaming. Was he truly fighting? Or mayhaps escaping from something? Or from someone? Had his pursuers scattered when they had heard her lord husband's party arriving? If the man were a thief or worse, then why would his pursuers run?
The Maester tugged at the chain around his neck. "There are scars on his body, some from wounds that have closed recently, the worst over the eyes. His vision hasn't been crippled, however."
As if the wounding searching to only inflict pain, instead of killing? And he knows our tongue and our letters… And he was escaping from someone… Catelyn thought, and her mind began forming the most likely explanation for the man's presence in the North.
"Could he be a slave?" Catelyn wondered aloud, the first words she had spoken in the conversation.
"My lady?" her Ned asked of her, his dark grey eyes against her blue ones.
"A slave," Catelyn answered her husband. "How could a man from the remote East find himself here and not know where he is, say that he was running and fighting when our son found him, if not dragged against his will?"
Luwin tugged at his chain again. "It could explain the scars, and his knowledge of the common tongue;" the old Maester explained. "Many slaves in the Free Cities and in other parts of Essos are taught to speak, read and write in many different tongues so they may serve as scribes, or translators."
The captain of their household guard grunted and rubbed his brow in a similar manner his lord had done. "So there may be slavers in our shores now…"
Her Ned let out a sigh and looked upwards. He rubbed his brow with his left hand. "That, or people from the East that employ slaves. Ships come and go, Jory, and it is hard to know which ones search only to trade in silks and foods, and which ones search to trade in people. Or those willing to trade with them. It wouldn't be a first…" he added, and his grey eyes hardened for a second.
He is thinking of Mormont, I know it; Catelyn thought. But her lord husband had the right idea. It was hard, for not saying impossible, to know the true intentions of every ship that came and left the North's ports; or the true intentions of those that came into contact with each of them.
"Luwin, speak with this foreigner, this… Tenmei again, when he has calmed a bit more;" the Lord of Winterfell commanded. "If he turns to truly be a slave, see if he can tell you anything about his captors."
"Then, if the Lady Catelyn's suspicions are confirmed… my lord, what do you wish we do with him?" Jory asked respectfully.
"My lord, if I may;" Luwin spoke with an equal amount of respect. "A man that knows to speak and read our tongue, and that may know how to write it, could be of great help to me in my duties. And I heard that Gage could use a pair of extra hands in the kitchens."
Truly? Was it mere compassion for the foreigner what moved the Maester, or the chance to speak with a man from a land that so very little was known about? Or a mixture of both? It was so easy for her to forget that, while she had never thought about Luwin as anything but a good man that only wished to serve her family, he was still a Maester, and therefore a man of knowledge.
Her lord husband, meanwhile, nodded to the pair of men. "If that were the case, yes, he could be allowed to live here in exchange for servitude. If that is the case, speak with Vayon Poole, he will see to it."
Between those words, Catelyn heard things the other two men couldn't. 'I won't allow a man to be sent into the wild with no means of survival' and 'I won't punish a man for running from slavers'. Her Ned, always the just man.
The Maester and the captain of their household guard left moments later, bowing their heads and exiting the solar afterwards. That left her alone with her lord husband who, after the departure of old Luwin and young Cassel, let out a long breath and seemingly sunk into the chair.
"You look tired," she told her lord husband.
"I am," he answered with complete sincerity. Gone was now unreadable and cold-faced Eddard Stark, Lord and Liege; leaving only her Ned, husband and father. And he had every right to be tired.
He had told her, in the godswood, under the white branches and red leaves of the Heart Tree. It had been the fourth deserter this year, the one from the Night's Watch that he had executed. A man gone mad out of fear, according to her Ned, continuously spouting nonsense about monsters, the [cold], sorcerers... and a [Man with an Arrow]. And Jon Arryn was dead and Robert Baratheon rode to Winterfell from King's Landing, and there was a chance that slavers from the East had grown so bold that they pursued a man so close to Winterfell, and their sons and daughters had direwolves, and...
And yesterday had been the most common of days.
"You should rest, husband;" she told her Ned, and extended her arm and touched his hand with hers. "We could go and see our children. They must have settled for names for the pups by now."
The man looked at her, his grey eyes now warm and gentle. He intertwined his fingers with hers and smiled. "I would love to," her Ned said; but then the eyes threatened to harden and become grey stone again. He took her hand to his lips and kissed it, then let go of her fingers and stood up from the chair. She stood shortly after, too. "But there is still much to do. Robert will be here in a month, give or take a few days; after all. Preparations need to be made. And if Luwin manages to discover anything of value about the captors of the foreigner, we will need to send word to the other Lords. I will not have slavers doing as they please in the North." They were exiting the solar now, walking side by side.
"And [Winter] is coming," her Ned added, the ancient words of his ancient house.
And a shiver ran through Catelyn Stark's spine. For some reason, she had never felt those words ringing truer than now.
Hey you
Out there in the cold, getting lonely, getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey you
Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey you
Don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight
Pink Floyd – Hey You
A/N: First Cat chapter done. We're two fifths into the first arc for this tale, people. Baby steps! Baby steps! We check on Kakyoin next time, then we move to the east, then we come back North. Stay tuned, and have a pleasant day.