Eddard 'Corvus' Stark

(Eddard POV)

The time has come. I must leave for the Vale to be fostered under Lord Jon Arryn at the Eyrie. I have been reading everything I could get my hands on in the Library of Winterfell, much to Maester Luwin's delight, and can say that fosterage is mostly a political action - the practice of a noble raising the child of another noble. The custom of fosterage is common among the nobility of Westeros. It is seen as a way of establishing friendships and alliances. The Lords would become something akin to a second father to the wards, and it is a means of education. It is a risk, though. Children are usually fostered at the age of 8, like me, which gives the Lords a lot of time to influence young nobles. According to the book I read, a child who a lord or lady fosters can make visits home during the years of his fosterage, although these visits would be minimal while the child is still young. After reaching the age of majority, which is 16, the fostered child is free to come and go as he or she likes. 

That is 8 years of influence. Basically, the life I have led here at Winterfell, I will live at the Eyrie under Lord Arryn's watch. Not doing what is asked of you translates to upsetting the Lord and ruining the political relationship. Overall, a dangerous gamble from my father's standpoint. 

I have read and asked Maester Luwin about Jon Arryn. Luwin told me that Lord Jon had a reputation for being prudent, calming, wise, kind and trusting. All these things seem hard to believe. Either he is putting on an act or an old fool. But then the question arises of how he managed to stay in his position that long. I make my way to the yard, where we wait for Lord Arryn and his men of the Vale to arrive. Brandon is not here, being fostered himself. 

"How long do I have to wear this for? I thought you said it wouldn't take too long, Father."

Lyanna was unhappy with the way she had to dress. Father is an ambitious man and likes to make a good first impression. He has gotten rather lenient with her and doesn't care much about what others would consider 'proper' for a young lady, but when a Lord like Jon Arryn arrives, he pushes for her to behave. I have come to value freedom above all else and understand that we enjoy more freedom as nobles and as Northmen than most others. I will change the status quo in time and use the incredible gifts I was born with. Although Brandon will become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he will no doubt accept my input as he was never much of a planner anyway. 

"Shush now, Lyanna. There, they are already coming," Father says, motioning for the approaching group of riders. At the front is whom I believe to be Lord Arryn. They wear House Arryn's coat of arms. A sky-blue falcon soaring against a white moon on sky-blue. 

The riders come to a stop, and Father approaches the first man as he descends from his horse. I can hear the smile and his heightened heartbeat as he stretches out his hand to Lord Arryn. He's tense. 

"Jon, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Rickard. It's been too long since we last saw one another. You never visit."

"Ha! You know how big the North is, I get lost sometimes."

"Oh? A Stark getting lost on his own turf? How tragic."

The two men seem to have a good relationship. But this interaction is not filled solely with the warmth of two old friends. No doubt they have an amicable relationship, but it is reserved. I assume an alliance of sorts. Forged during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Yes, that must be the case. Lord Jon fought for King Jaehaerys II Targaryen in the War of the Ninepenny Kings in 260 AC. During the war, he most likely made alliances with my father and Lord Steffon Baratheon of Storm's End. And now, he will foster both of these two men's sons. Then the reason for me being the one to be fostered under Jon Arryn and not Brandon is my age and nothing else. I am only one name day younger than Robert Baratheon, the heir of Storm's End. 

"These are my children, Jon. My youngest Benjen, Lyanna and of course my second oldest, Eddard."

"Well met, young Eddard. I am glad that we finally met one another. You look strong for your tender age."

"Aye."

"Ned!" my father chastises me. 

"Haha, you are as taciturn as Rickard described. We will work on increasing your vocabulary. However, I heard that you are quite the smart lad. Is that true?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"What you understand as smart."

"Ned, I warn you."

I look at my father and nod my head. I suppose I have to put more effort into my answers. 

"I apologise. I enjoy reading."

...

"Ugh."

Father sighs. It seems that wasn't long enough. I'll do better next time. 

.

The day passed, and we were finally ready to depart. I embrace all my siblings for the last time in a while and then reach my father. He touches me on the shoulder, trying to comfort me. 

"Remember that you are a Stark. Hold yourself with dignity at the Vale. And try to stay out of fights."

"Yes, Father."

"But if you have to fight ... try not to kill anyone."

"..."

"What? Did you think I didn't know that you are holding yourself back? I am a warrior as well, son. I know the weight of the equipment you use. You are a Stark and my son. You will do brilliantly in the Vale."

"Aye, I will."

"Go now."

I look back at my siblings and parents as I get up on my horse. I won't get to see them for a while and will have to adapt to the 'southern' ways. From what I could gather, politics plays a bigger part in their lives than it does in ours. We shall see. 

As our group departs, I look back one final time. 

.

.

(Jon Arryn POV)

The journey to the Eyrie was long and cold. The North is sparsely populated, with vast wilderness, rising moorlands, high plains, forests, pine-covered hills and snow-capped mountains speckled with tiny villages and holdfasts. Unlike the Vale, with our fertile soil and the protection of the mountains, the North has far less fertile land. The climate here is harsh, even for me, who is used to the biting winds of the Eyrie. I am glad that we are moving south and it is getting warmer, at least it should, but the North is strange that way. We are moving along the Kingsroad and have just passed the Barrowlands. Hilly plains dotted with the barrows of the First Men, of which most of the people of the North descend. 

The ancestry and harsh climate are what set the Northerners apart from the rest of the 7 Kingdoms. Northmen place less of an emphasis on courtly ritual and culture and instead prefer hunting and brawling. This makes sense if you are forced to combine survival with pleasure. Many northmen disapprove of tourneys and gambling, something I hear Rickard agrees with and, from what I can tell, Eddard as well. Northern competitions rarely feature jousting, preferring instead dangerous melees, and northmen also make up their own rules for tourneys. One might call them brutes and wouldn't be too far off. 

I look to the side, at my new ward. Eddard Stark, the 'Quiet Wolf', as the Starks and most of the smallfolk have come to call him. The description fits him perfectly, and yet, I can't help but see him as the exception to the 'brutish' stereotype I see as the Northeners. He may be taciturn and brooding, but that is not all there is to him. I can tell. My years in Westeros have taught me to read people, even if they don't speak. And what I could gather from Eddard is nothing. Absolutely nothing. The lad is as silent as a falling snowflake. But I can see him observing the men around him. He is never absent-minded or distracted. He is awake and ready for anything. I don't know what Rickard taught him at this age, but from the few words we exchanged, I know he's not an imbecile. On the contrary, he is quite clever. 

As I lead us through the North, the banners of House Arryn flutter in the wind as the column makes its way south. Eddard Stark rides in silence. At eight name days, he is almost as tall as a boy a year his senior, though slighter in build. His black eyes, which still unnerve me for some reason, are calm and watchful, missing nothing. He spoke little, only when necessary, and spent most of the journey so far listening. My thoughts wander to Robert for a moment. The difference couldn't be more apparent. Already at 9, Robert Baratheon is brave, but headstrong, rash and impatient. He has nigh zero interest in the lessons I teach and doesn't have talent in politics; he simply lacks the patience and interest for it. He is a brilliant fighter, though; that much is certain. House Baratheon will see a strong ruler in the future, but I'm not certain that he'll be a wise one. Perhaps the calm and cool nature of Eddard Stark can help me temper the fiery one that is Robert Baratheon. That is, should they become friends? I can only hope that is the case. I have enough trouble with the wild Robert; I don't need more trouble. 

But we'll see whether this will work out soon. 

.

"Well Eddard, what do you say about the journey so far?" I ask the boy. We have begun our way on the High Road, towards the Bloody Gate in the Vale, and my mood has brightened. 

"Rather uneventful."

"Ah, yes. But you will come to understand that those are the best journeys to experience. The more things that happen, the more dangerous it is. As a young man, you might not agree with this yet, but in due time, you will understand what I mean."

"I see."

"So what do you know about the Vale, Eddard? Did you read anything in the Library of Winterfell? Your father told me you are quite an avid reader."

"I like to be informed. As for my knowledge of the Vale ... average, I would say."

"Average? In what sense?"

"Most of what I could gather from the library is history. That gives me a general idea but not closely enough to what I should probably know."

I think that's the most he has said in the entire journey so far. 

"Then tell me what you have learned so far."

"Aye. The Vale of Arryn, the Vale, or the Kingdom of Mountain and Vale, is one of the constituent regions of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. It was formerly a sovereign nation ruled by the Kings of Mountain and Vale before Aegon's Conquest. The Mountains of the Moon surround the more minor Vale proper, although the valley's name is often applied to all of House Arryn's realm. The Arryns, your House, rule the Vale from the castle known as the Eyrie, where we're going. Bastards of noble origin raised in the Vale are given the surname Stone."

"Very good. Do you know more?"

"Aye, what should I say?"

"Tell me about the planes of the Vale. How would you compare it to the North?"

"The Vale has more fertile land than the North. You have rivers and lakes and are protected by the Mountains of the Moons, which are considered to be 'largely' impassable. The high amounts of mountains you have isolate you slightly from the rest of the 7 Kingdoms, which can be seen as positive or negative. You have a problem with rebellious mountain clans or hill tribes, which are a culture descended from the First Men. You consider them primitive by your standards. The road we are on right now is called the High Road. It connects the Vale and the Riverlands and is protected by the Bloody Gate."

"That's already a lot that you know about the Vale, Eddard. Very impressive. Do you know something about our history?"

"Aye, I know a few things. The Vale is where the Andals landed when they invaded Westeros. Your House, House Arryn, claimed the Vale after defeating the First Men in the Battle of the Seven Stars. That's why you are one of Westeros's oldest lines of Andal nobility."

"Hmm, not bad. But as a very proud man of House Arryn, we will learn more about the Vale's history in time. We aren't far from the Bloody Gate now."

For a moment, I thought I saw something in his expression. A slight shift, if you will, expressing displeasure of some kind. I'm unsure, but I will have to find out why he feels that way. Maybe because of the Andal victory over the First Men? He is a Stark, and Rickard also has his pride, so there may be a connection. But I'm not certain. We'll see. 

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A bit of history on the Vale. I'll include some more in the future, as I personally enjoy the lore behind it, and it will be an important plot point in this story.