Two Old WolvesCorryn and Ned hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to each other in years. Before that time, they'd been a solitary pair, even when sharing the same food and drink, up to their knees in blood and misery. Wolves rarely exchanged pleasantries, after all. They simply stood side by side, weathering whatever storm might find them in the night. What were words when honor and brotherly love spoke for them? They could draw comfort just by knowing the man at their shoulder would not fail them. So it felt decidedly odd to Corryn speaking at such length to Ned now, laying out a lifetime's worth of stories and troubles like a putrid banquet. He felt guilty at having to place this burden upon his friend's shoulders. In the telling of the troubles at Holdfast and Marshend, the Riverwolf realized just how old they'd become and how deeply things had changed between them. Gone were the days of laughter and adventure. Gone were the glories of duty and the songs of battle. They'd been replaced with contracts and deceptions and betrayals. But perhaps worse, Ned had lost his smile and Corryn realized that his own had faded as well. Corryn swirled the mead in his goblet, finding it bitter despite its obvious sweetness. Across from him, Ned sat patiently, silently. The fire had grown low, silhouetting them both in crimson shadows. "I never understood until now," he said. Ned stirred from his thoughts, looked up at his friend with immutable eyes. "Once I took over White Harbour for my father, I thought I'd learned the weight of responsibility," Corryn continued. "This last fortnight has taught me otherwise. As I sit here, I find myself longing for my river. Wild as it may be, you could understand it. You could know its moods and tame it of a sorts. But all of this with the Boltons and Hardys and Limosa. I never dreamt I could be this tired, Ned. Not ever. A few years ago, I would have simply slipped back to my river and let her carry me from this. But things change. Men change. "I've changed." Corryn smiled faintly, "So, I don't envy you, old friend. Nor the choices you'll need to make over the next few days. But I will abide by the one's concerning myself and stand by you for upholding the others. All I ask is you be fair with me and mine." He straightened up in his chair, "Have you come to a decision regarding Limosa and her obligations to Herys?" "No," said Lord Stark simply. "Nor can I until I know the nature of the bargain that was struck between Lord Bolton and her birth father. If it was a definite marriage to Ser Herys, the man is apparently dead, and so the matter falls. But if she was dowered to marry a Bolton knight, and Roose chose Herys out of his kin, then he may well have the right to choose another, for she would be pre-contracted before her father cast her off. There's been too much blood spilled in this matter amongst my banner lords. Ser Corryn, I look to you to see that no more is spilled on account of your doings. The time may come when, once more, we all need to stand fast together. "That's why we need a good lord and true at Holdfast. Tell me frankly, how stand matters there? How crippled is Godfrey like to be?" Corryn sighed, but stilled his tongue before it could hang himself with a noose of regretful words. Time would see them through. He had to believe that, to believe in his friend. He could not think of that further, not now while the feelings remained too raw. Instead, he focused on the question at hand. His eyes fell for a moment until he summoned the strength to speak. "Godfrey is unlikely to recover from his wounds, if he's lucky enough to survive at all. And certainly not to the level of hardiness he once possessed. But his mind is still sharp as ever. He might gripe and complain about his condition, but he will be able to oversee Holdfast's interests. "But I will be surprised if he can ride or hold a lance again." Corryn meet Ned's gaze with frank honesty. "Holdfast hangs by a thread, old friend. Oswain is mad as a $hite house rat. Lady Celia is likely responsible for the attempted murder of a maester from Clearwater. Kenrith is his father's son, impulsive and shortsighted. And Godwyn? Sweet, brave boy that one. But the complex matters of home and hearth are beyond him." He shook his head, "Godfrey needs to set matters in order. And he will need help in doing so." Lord Stark nodded. "I understand. And I thank you, Riverwolf." He looked at him closely. "So, now you are a widower, and a father. What do you intend for your future?" Corryn sensed a question beneath Ned's question, raising a brow. "My future?" he repeated. He sat back and swirled the contents of his goblet thoughtfully. That concept had been on his mind of late, more so than usual. Ever since Leaning Stone, the idea of a future had plagued him, hounded him. After all these years, he finally had to answer the question. And this time, answer it truthfully. "I intend to take another wife," he said with a shrug. "The days of youth escaped me years ago. It's about time I fess up to that fact. And my children deserve a mother. They deserve a real home. I'd like to build one for them. I've had enough of being a hedge knight. It is time to allow some roots to grow." A sad laugh escaped him. "Perhaps you and Catelyn could find me a suitable wife? If I leave it in my father's capable hands, he'll marry me off to a Frey before the fortnight is out." He offered his friend a smile. "I. In truth, I would like to help you and Godfrey, if possible. I haven't felt so... useful since Catelyn bid me be your eyes and ears at Holdfast. I'd like to feel useful again, my lord. If you will allow me to serve you." Eddard Stark nodded. "I could find a use for you, Corryn Manderly, if you were more ready to accept discipline these days than in the old days when we were boys together. Are you minded to do that?" Corryn gaffed and descended into a throaty chuckle. Then he recalled Ned's lack of humor, and provided him with an apologetic gesture. "Forgive me, Ned" he said. "If the last fortnight has taught me anything, it's that I've grown too old for the follies of my youth. Nowadays, I'd rather have more discipline than regrets. I have enough regrets to sustain me far into my elder years." He refilled their goblets before settling back into his chair. "So my answer is 'yes.' What use for me did you have in mind, if I might inquire?" Eddard stared into his goblet. "I've lost one of the best of my bannerknights." He raised his head and looked full at Corryn. "Would you take his place?" |
