Chapter 2 — Meeting Ned
When I first saw Winterfell, it looked exactly as I had imagined — and nothing like I'd imagined at all.
Thick gray walls rose from the white hills like they had grown out of the earth itself. Steam drifted from the hot springs beneath the castle, curling around the towers in thin veils. The banners of House Stark — the grey direwolf on white — fluttered proudly in the wind. From the outer gate, I could hear laughter and the clang of tankards; the Starks were celebrating their victory in the Iron Islands rebellion.
The North had come home triumphant.
I tightened my cloak against the chill and stepped forward. The air smelled of woodsmoke, ale, and roasted meat — a welcome change after the stillness of the House Outside Time. HOT had no wind, no sound, no warmth. Here, everything felt alive.
The guards at the gate stopped me, their hands resting on their swords.
"Name yourself," one said.
"Manny," I replied simply. "A traveler from far away. I wish to speak with Lord Stark."
The older guard, broad-shouldered and red-nosed from drink, barked a laugh. "Do you now? You and half the North tonight. Go on back where you came from, lad."
I held my ground. "Tell him I have something important. He'll want to hear it."
The guard gave me a look that said I was either mad or foolish — maybe both. "Lord Stark's feasting with his bannermen. You think he'll drop his cup for a stranger's word?"
I let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a calm firmness that wasn't entirely mine. Something about being Master of the House Outside Time gave me a strange confidence. My voice came out quiet but steady. "Please. Just tell him a traveler waits with words meant only for his ears."
The guard hesitated. Maybe it was the way I said it, or maybe he just wanted to prove me wrong, but finally he sighed. "Wait here, then. If I don't come back, you're gone."
He vanished inside the keep, leaving me under the torches. The cold bit at my fingers. I rubbed them together and looked up at the dark sky. Somewhere, a wolf howled — long, deep, and lonely.
When the guard returned, he looked half-confused himself. "Lord Stark says you may enter," he said gruffly. "Don't cause trouble."
"I'll do my best," I muttered, stepping through the gate.
The Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with noise and fire. Long tables filled the room, groaning under the weight of meat, bread, and pitchers of ale. Men in furs laughed and shouted to be heard over one another. Their voices were rough, full of the North's strength.
I walked in quietly, my boots echoing on the stone floor.
At the high table, Eddard Stark sat beside his lady wife, Catelyn. His eldest son Robb, no older than ten, sat proudly at his side, eyes bright as he listened to the men talk. Behind them stood maids and servants, pouring wine and clearing platters. To Ned's both sides sat Lord Umber, a huge man with a booming laugh; Lord Karstark, his face as sharp as his name; Lord Manderly, big and fat; and other Northern Lords.
I could feel eyes on me as soon as I entered. The noise began to soften. Tankards were lowered. The laughter faded.
"Who's that then?" someone muttered.
"Another sellsword sniffing for coin?" said another.
Lord Stark's gaze found me, steady and assessing. "Who are you?" he asked. "And what business brings you to my hall?"
I bowed slightly, keeping my tone calm. "My name is Manny. I come from far away, my lord. I bring words meant only for you."
A few of the lords chuckled. Greatjon Umber's laugh rolled across the hall like thunder. "Words meant only for him, eh? Speak plain, lad! Or are you a southron weakling who's forgotten how to talk?"
More laughter followed, sharp and mocking. I didn't answer. I simply smiled.
Ned Stark's expression didn't change. "You stand in my hall, stranger. Speak what you will, and speak it true."
I met his eyes. "What I have to say should be spoken in private, my lord."
His jaw tightened a little. "You'll say it here, before my men and family. I've no time for riddles."
I hesitated for a moment, realizing I wouldn't get a chance otherwise. Obviously, why would the Warden of North entertain a stranger's request? So I said the only words that would make the meeting possible.
"Promise me, Ned. Promise me."
The hall went dead silent in confusion.
Lord Stark froze, every trace of color draining from his face. His hand, which had been resting casually on the table, clenched into a fist. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Catelyn turned toward him, confused. "Ned?"
He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on me, sharp and searching — full of fear, disbelief, and something else I couldn't name.
"Where did you hear those words?" he demanded, voice low and hard.
I didn't move. "From the one who said them to you," I said softly.
For a moment, I thought he might leap across the table. Then, slowly, he stood. The lords around him shifted uneasily, glancing between us.
"To my Solar," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."
He strode out of the hall and I followed him. We walked through the castle in silence and soon reached the Solar.
As soon as we entered inside, he locked the door and turned towards me. His eyes held concern, anger and shock as he demanded, "Explain. Now."
I stood before Eddard Stark of Winterfell — the man of honor, the Warden of the North — as he stared at me like I was a ghost.
I was a little worried as I had no power at the moment except Teleportation which at least left me a way to flee if necessary.
I looked dead in his eyes and said, "Aegon Targaryen. The Song of Ice and Fire. The Long Night. Winter is Coming."
End of Chapter 2 — Meeting Ned