Game of Thrones: The Ruler

[20 Days Later]

[Winterfell]

Ned Stark sighed deeply as he flipped through the parchments on his desk.

Though his fingers turned the pages and his eyes scanned the numbers and reports written across them, his mind was not processing any of the figures written on it.

He was lost in his own thoughts, adrift in a world far removed from figures and ink.

It had been nearly a year since Jon had run away from Winterfell. And even now, they had found no trace of him.

No clues. No trail. Nothing.

The only faint hope Ned still clung to was the absence of a body. They had recovered no remains. No corpse, no clothing, no boots that might even vaguely hinted at death of Jon.

Granted, it was summer. But even so, the North remained cold enough to preserve a body for months, if not longer.

If Jon had perished somewhere nearby, something, anything would have turned up by now.

Jon's disappearance had caused nothing more than a ripple in the rhythm of life at Winterfell. Daily routines had continued as they always had. Conversations about Jon had almost dwindled. Aside from the occasional inquiry from Arya or Bran, few even spoke his name anymore.

Catelyn had done her part, too, ensuring that the stain he had left on the family's honour was erased even from memories of the people. He would not say that their relationship had turned sour, but surely, a stiffness had appeared between them. Even so, he did not blame Catelyn for what had happened. At least not more than, he blamed himself. As a lord of the castle, it was his duty to ensure that Jon got the treatment befitting as someone carrying the Stark Blood, even if he was a 'bastard.' The bastards were not as hated in North as in South. The followers of Seven did not take lightly to the Bastards.

To Ned, however, it was not just Winterfell that felt disordered. It was as if the entire world had slipped into quiet chaos.

It had been four days since he had received the latest report. Two more cities had fallen to the sword of Lord Aeos. Yunkai and Meereen.

Even when the name had first emerged, when Astapor was taken, Ned had not dismissed it lightly. But now? Now that this boy had taken not one, but three cities under his command? And he had accomplished it in matter of months. No one could afford to ignore him anymore.

Details were scarce. News from Essos travelled slowly and slower still to the secluded castle of Winterfell.

But no matter the method used, seizing two cities in rapid succession was no minor feat. And those words, those ambitious words spoken by Lord Aeos in Astapor about establishing the greatest empire the world has ever seen.

Those words would now ring like a war drum in the ears of the ruling elite of Essos. Every city in Essos, especially those close to Slaver's Bay, would feel the shadow of his ambition creeping closer. And now, Ned knew, would begin Lord Aeos's true test.

A knock on the door snapped Ned out of his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and Maester Luwin stepped inside.

"Lord Stark," he bowed respectfully. "Lord Manderly has arrived in Winter Town. He will be at the gates of Winterfell shortly."

Ned nodded. This was yet another mystery gnawing at his thoughts.

Eight days earlier, he had received a raven from White Harbor. The letter was from Wyman Manderly himself.

Strangely, it contained no details, only a single line stating that Lord Manderly was on his way to Winterfell to discuss a matter of grave importance.

And to be honest, Eddard Stark had not had a good feeling about it since.

"Very well," he said as he rose to his feet to receive Lord Manderly personally.

The massive frame of Lord Manderly atop a horse was not exactly a common sight nor a graceful one. He looked awkward and out of place, and it was hard for some of the onlookers in the yard to suppress their amusement at the spectacle of him riding.

The entourage following behind Lord Manderly was small, just large enough to ensure his security on the roads. Wyman Manderly riding on horseback with such a modest convoy made it clear that he had been in a hurry to complete the journey.

A sturdy stool was brought forward, and Manderly dismounted as quickly as he could manage.

"Lord Stark," he greeted, offering a bow or rather, a tilt of his neck, for it was clear that a proper bow was beyond him.

"Lord Manderly," Ned replied, matching the courtesy.

"Your accommodations have been arranged," Ned added. "Would you like to rest first, or...?"

He left the question hanging. As a host, it was his duty to offer rest, but the choice remained with Manderly and Ned was no less eager and anxious to hear what had brought the Lord of White Harbor so urgently to Winterfell.

"We should speak in your solar," Wyman Manderly said, his expression grim.

Ned's heart sank slightly. If Manderly was forgoing rest after such a long journey, it meant the matter was indeed serious.

The two men arrived in Ned Stark's solar. Ned took his seat in his usual chair behind the oaken desk. The chair across from him looked far too small for Lord Manderly, but with some effort and a grunt, the large lord managed to sit albeit with slight difficulty.

"What is it, Lord Manderly?" Ned asked without delay. Since they were already in private, he saw no need for pleasantries and went straight to the point.

Wyman Manderly drew in a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts or choosing his words carefully.

"Lord Stark," he began after a moment, "just a day before I sent the raven to you, I came across a merchant. A merchant from Essos."

"Yes?" Ned prompted, gesturing for him to continue.

"The merchant had something with him that sparked a great deal of interest within me," Wyman said slowly. "He was carrying a portrait. A portrait of Lord Aeos, drawn on the day he inaugurated the Astapori City Centre."

Ned's brow furrowed. He had indeed heard of the Astapori City Centre. An ambitious and well regarded project, by all accounts. But his attention now shifted to the purpose of this visit. A portrait of Lord Aeos?

"What of it?" Ned asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I brought it with me," Wyman said, reaching into his thick robes. He pulled out a rolled bundle of parchment, bound carefully with string.

Ned's frown deepened as Wyman handed it over. He still did not understand the significance but something about the Lord of White Harbor's grave expression sent a chill down his spine. His heart began to beat just a little faster in trepidation.

With careful hands, he unfolded the parchment and the moment his gaze landed on the figure, his eyes bulged in shock and he snapped up straight from his chair.

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