Eddard 'Corvus' Stark

(3rd Person POV)

The group consisting of Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark and the knights of House Arryn had passed the Bloody Gate. The Bloody Gate is a series of battlements which protect against mountain clansmen and invading armies. Eddard took everything in and, unlike what others thought, wasn't in wonder or any other emotional state. He was observing everything as closely as he could for future reference. He planned to use this chance, his fosterage under Jon Arryn, to learn and gain intel on the Vale. He had a lot of plans to improve the North and Winterfell, and getting inspiration was a good idea. Everything he learned there would find its place in the library back in Winterfell and would help his House in the future. Who knows, the North may come into conflict with the Vale at some point, so he thought it would be useful either way.

When the group approached the Eyrie, Eddard understood why it was considered impregnable to attack. Although small compared to the seats of other Great Houses in Westeros, in fact no larger than Maegor's Holdfast in King's Landing, the Eyrie is situated in the Mountains of the Moon on the shoulder of the peak known as the Giant's Lance, several thousand feet above the valley below. Although this was impressive to Eddard, he immediately saw the problems the Eyrie's location would bring. During winter, the cold would most likely be unbearable to the inhabitants, and they would have to seek refuge somewhere else or burn tons of wood to keep warm. 

The Eyrie is made of white stone. Its seven slim, white towers are bunched tightly together and can hold up to five hundred men. Not many, but to reach the Eyrie from the west, an invading army must first overcome the Bloody Gate, as stated. The waterfall, Alyssa's Tears, can be heard from the Eyrie, and falcons fly near the castle.

.

The Eyrie was unlike anything Eddard had ever seen. Winterfell was a fortress of stone and grey, but the Vale's white castle was something else entirely. It was here, in the courtyard, that he met Robert Baratheon.

Eddard dismounts, dusting the travel from his cloak and turns to find himself face-to-face with a slightly taller boy. 

"You're smaller than I thought," Robert declared, crossing his arms. He was broad for his age, and his shoulders started to thicken with muscles. His hair was black as a crow's wing, and his blue eyes shone with mischief. He was grinning like a cat who had cornered a mouse. The soldiers and knights around them chuckled at the words, waiting to see how the northern boy would respond, already used to Robert's antics and bothered by the silent Eddard. 

Eddard tilted his head slightly. He did not react or answer immediately. He merely looked at Robert, unblinking.

Robert's grin faltered, just for a moment.

"We're nearly the same height, and you're a year older than me," Eddard said, his voice cool. 

Robert's grin returned. He had expected an insult, a bit of rough Northern wit. Instead, he got nothing. No anger, no humour. Just a bland response.

"Well," Robert said, rolling his shoulders, "aren't you smart. But you don't talk much, do you?"

"I prefer listening."

Robert snorted. "That sounds dull."

"It has its uses."

A pause.

And then Robert threw back his head and laughed loudly. 

"Hahahaha! Jon, you've brought me a mute for a friend!"

Jon Arryn, standing nearby, merely shook his head. He thought this would go differently for some reason, but he should have known. 

"You would do well to learn from him, Robert. There is wisdom in silence. Not everyone needs to hear you speak all the time."

Robert groaned. "There is boredom in silence."

Eddard remained unfazed. He had already judged Robert. The boy was strong, full of energy, and carried himself with the pride of someone who had never truly known fear. In one word, a noble of a prominent house. It would stand to reason that Robert would remain that proud for years to come, but a man only truly showed his colours in the face of adversity. 

They would be friends, in time, not in the way the realm expected, but in their own way. But for now, Robert grinned and clapped a hand on Eddard's shoulder as if declaring victory in some invisible contest. He was as charismatic as nine-year-olds came. 

"Come! Let's eat! I'll tell you of the boar my father and I hunted last summer—it was as big as a horse, I swear it! A proper kill for warriors like us!"

.

.

Life under Jon Arryn's fosterage was strict and disciplined. He taught the two boys about House Arryn, the Eyrie and the Vale and would soon go on to explain to them the rest of the seven Kingdoms. Jon strongly believed in the notion of honour and tried to guide his two wards in a direction where they would also value it as much as he did. Whether that would or wouldn't work, no one could truly tell. Eddard fell into it quickly, taking to training, study, and duty without question. He saw the notion of honour as similar to his growing idea of justice, and while the original Corvus Corax had a lot of optimism, Eddard wasn't as influenced by it. Robert, on the other hand, endures the education. 

He chafed under the expectations some had of him. His father, mother, brother and Jon Arryn. However, he was too naturally talented to fail. He was strong and quick, deadly with a hammer, even at ten. He was a leader without effort, making friends wherever he went. The squires, the stable boys, even the older knights—they were drawn to him. His charisma, which drew even Eddard in, was obvious for all to see. 

Eddard, however, was another entirely different breed. Where the other boys called Robert charismatic, they called Eddard unsettling. And in some ways, he was.

He was better than Robert in almost all things - swordplay, horsemanship, tactics, hunting. The only things Robert bested him in were drinking (though Jon Arryn never allowed it under his roof) and making friends. Whether it was Eddard's conscious decision not to make any friends was uncertain for most, but the truth was that he could make friends if he chose. His reason for not doing so was simple. He had understood that the world, especially the South, was filled with political intrigue and greed. He saw this as the reason why most would want to be his 'friends'. He decided that those who still remained after they came to know him would be worth his while. A childish notion for sure. 

Robert was the sort of person who needed movement to feel alive. He thrived in action, in competition, in victory, and in anything that wasn't sitting still, listening to Jon or reading. But Eddard, even after barely nine name days, could see the flaw in that. A man who could not sit still, who needed battle or revelry to feel content, would only make his own life dull.

It was a thought that stayed with him for years.

One evening, after training, they sat together in the castle yard. Robert was sharpening a small dagger, frowning in concentration.

"You don't like talking much, do you? And when you do, it's so smart and sophisticated," he asked.

"I talk when I have something to say."

Robert smirked. "And what do you have to say about me?"

Eddard considered his answer. He let the silence stretch long enough that Robert's smirk faded.

"You are strong," he said at last. "Brave."

Robert grinned, pleased.

"But impatient. And reckless."

Robert's grin vanished. Eddard met his gaze. 

"You chase after adventure and action. You care little to nothing about what others think of you and consider few to be your equals. I can see that you respect Jon, as you should, and maybe me. But the fact that you don't seem to accept anyone else's judgement ... it will get you killed one day."

For the first time, Robert did not have a quick response. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. And then, he threw a punch. His fist flew out with the full strength his 10-nameday-old body could muster, and mind you, it was a lot. But something he didn't expect happened. 

Eddard caught it.

In one swift movement, he twisted Robert's arm and shoved him back onto the dirt. It was effortless, precise. Done without the intent to hurt his fellow ward, only to set a boundary. Robert lay there, stunned, before bursting into laughter. 

"Hahahaha! Seven hells! Where did you learn to fight like that?!"

Eddard said nothing and just shrugged. Robert sat up, rubbing his arm. 

"You'll have to teach me that trick. A quiet little wolf won't best me."

Eddard looked down at him. His shadow stretched long in the firelight, his black eyes unreadable. And then he smiled for the first time since coming to the Eyrie. 

"You will be," he said simply.

Robert stared at him. And then, after a long moment, he grinned. 

"We'll see."

.

After this day, the two boys grew much closer. They weren't as distant as before, and the demonstration of strength on Eddard's part was an ice-breaker in Robert's mind. He was bone-headed, but it worked for him. Eddard also started to enjoy Robert's presence, and they did more and more together, much to the pleasure of Jon Arryn. He was starting to worry about his decision to take two boys as wards at the same time, but with the way things were going, his idea proved to be correct. 

Eddard pulled his punches and made sure to control his strength perfectly. He was growing at an alarming speed, and while he wasn't learning anything in the physical department, say, armed and unarmed combat, he was gaining experience. If Eddard Stark's soul wasn't inherently humble, the power he had over everyone could have made him arrogant. Thankfully, he had a strong friend in Robert Baratheon, who would grow up to become one of the strongest and deadliest fighters in Westeros and a wise and honourable foster father in Jon Arryn. 

.

.

Eddard and Robert go out on a particular day to explore independently, as they usually do when Eddard witnesses something that bothers him. He saw a boy standing in front of three corpses, which had been hung, and their bodies hadn't been taken down yet. One larger and two smaller ones. The boy stared at the three corpses who were dangling there, slowly moving back and forth with the wind. 

"What are you doing, Ned? Come on, I want to try to get some wine this time. Roswalda might just let me," Robert told his friend, who had stopped walking. It was something they did whenever they could, trying to get the innkeeper woman, Roswalda, to give them some wine to drink with the men and make them feel like grown-ups. Eddard didn't particularly like it and had no desire to drink wine, but he liked to accompany Robert as something fun usually happened. But today ... he wasn't feeling it. He looked into the eyes of the boy, who was no older than 6 or 7 and could feel his pain and helplessness.

Eddard turns to Robert and shakes his head. 

"Go on without me, Robert. There is something I have to do."

"Hm? What's that?" he asks and stands next to Robert. 

His brutish friend looks at the young boy and then at the two people hanging there. He may appear to be a brute, but Robert is smart. The only thing holding him back is his laziness and boredom regarding all things intellectual. He was a brilliant strategist, and the realm would surely find that out in the future. But this time, Robert shrugged. 

"Eh, they're dead. There's nothing you can do about it now. Let's go and enjoy ourselves while we're still alive. I want to be back before sunset, or Jon will nag again."

There was no sympathy in Robert at the sight. He saw it for what it was and just pushed it aside, not bothering with it. He had a clear vision of reality and didn't want the darkness he saw to cloud the light that shone in his life. But Eddard wasn't like that. He couldn't just move on and had to stop. 

"Go on without me, Robert. I'll see you later."

"Hm, alright then. Your mistake if I get some wine."

Eddard watched his friend leave and then waited. Few people were walking past the scene, and no one cared about it. Closing one's eyes to the problems of others seemed to be so much easier than caring for them. Eddard approaches the young boy slowly and stands next to him. He looks up at the three people. 

"Did you know them?" he asks. 

"..." 

"Why were they hanged?"

"..."

...

"Were they guilty?"

The boy doesn't answer. A single tear forms in his eye and goes down his cheek. 

"Where's your mother? Do you have a place you can go?"

"..."

Eddard looks at the boy and understands that he has lost everything and is now alone in the world. A terrible fate for one so young and something Eddard can't leave. 

"My name's Eddard. What's your name?"

"..."

But the boy doesn't answer. Eddard takes out some of the meat he saved up and hands it to him. He nods his head, encouraging the boy to take it, and then he watches him eat it. He seems famished and waits for him to finish. From his mannerisms, it would seem that the boy wasn't a bastard or a stray rat; he seemed to have enjoyed some education. 

The boy looks at Eddard for the first time. 

"Thank you."

"You're welcome..."

"Ezio. My name is Ezio."