Chapter 4 — Winter Is Coming
The Great Hall of Winterfell was still loud with music and laughter when Lord Eddard Stark stepped back inside, but something in him had changed. The shadows seemed to cling to him a little more closely; the weight on his shoulders had doubled since he had spoken with the stranger named Manny.
Before the feast, Ned Stark had worn the face of a lord hosting his bannermen with quiet dignity. Now he wore the face of a man carrying a truth that did not belong in mortal hands.
A few lords noticed first — Robett Glover paused with a cup halfway to his lips; Lord Karstark's brows knitted together as he whispered something to his sons. Soon the change in atmosphere spread like a cold breath across the room. Laughter died quicker; conversations grew hushed. Even the serving girls slowed, casting uncertain glances at their lord.
Ned stood tall and tried not to reveal the storm in his chest. He lifted his voice, firm but calm.
"Lords of the North," he called, "I ask you all to come to my solar on the morrow. There are matters that must be spoken of."
A ripple of murmurs followed him as he left the hall. Manny still stood at the far end, silent and watchful, and Ned felt the man's eyes on his back long after he turned the corner.
By the time the feast ended, a strange unease hung in the air.
When Ned finally returned to his chambers, Catelyn was waiting.
She stood from her chair the moment he entered. Her eyes, usually warm and composed, searched his face with sharp concern.
"Ned. What happened? What did that stranger say to you?" she asked. "You left the hall looking as though winter itself had settled on your shoulders."
Ned hesitated. The image of Lyanna's pale face came to him, whispering promise me, Ned. The secret he held about Jon had bound him for years. Now Manny had spoken of it as though the gods themselves had whispered the truth into his ear.
He could not tell Cat. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
"Nothing important," he said after a pause. "He spoke of the Wall. Of the wildlings."
Catelyn frowned. "Is there trouble at the Wall? Are the wildlings planning a raid? If they are, then something must be done. Those barbarians must be all killed."
"Cat," Ned cut in sharply, more sharply than he intended. "They are not animals. They are people."
She blinked, surprised.
Ned sighed and rubbed his brow. "They raid when winter is harsh, when food is scarce. Aye, they have spilled northern blood. But you speak of slaughtering them all. You are better than that."
Her mouth tightened. "They are a danger to your bannermen, to our home. If they cross the Wall—"
"If they cross the Wall," Ned said quietly, "we shall deal with it. But not with words meant to kill before a sword is even drawn."
Catelyn said nothing, though he saw she disagreed. In truth, she had always feared the North and all the harsh survival it demanded. Ned could not fault her for that.
He closed the discussion gently. "It is late. Let us sleep."
But sleep did not come easily. Even as the torches dimmed and the castle settled into its night silence, Ned Stark lay awake, hearing Manny's words echo in his mind.
When the Long Night approaches, the dragons will come.
The magic will return.
The dead will walk.
By dawn, his mind was no clearer.
---
Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quieter affair than the feast. Lords trickled in with tired eyes and hushed conversations, speaking in riddles and half-guesses about what their liege had meant last night.
Benjen Stark, who had stayed through the night, seemed curious as he ate silently beside his brother.
Ned hardly touched his food.
When he rose, the hall watched his every movement.
"Maester Luwin," Ned said, "send word that the lords are to join me in my solar."
"As you command, my lord."
Winterfell began to stir with unusual urgency. Servants whispered. Guards shifted positions. Even the ravens on the rookery tower seemed restless, cawing into the cold morning air.
Ned walked to the solar with his guards, seasoned men loyal to House Stark for generations. His direwolf of a brother walked beside him, silent and thoughtful. At the solar, his master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, posted himself inside the gate, and other men waited further down the corridor.
It was unusual to bar servants entirely, but Ned had insisted. He wanted no ears to hear what he would say and no whispers to be heard around the seven kingdoms.
The bannermen entered one by one.
The Glovers came first, then the Karstarks, followed by Lord Manderly with his heavy steps and quiet, calculating eyes. The Umbers were loud even in their unease; the Boltons were silent as winter shadows. Howard Reed was alone and chose a corner to sit, waiting for the announcement from his friend and Lord.
Manny was also there, standing near the window, quiet and unreadable, as though he belonged to no house and no place.
When the last of them had taken their seats, brought in especially to fill the chamber, Ned Stark walked to the head of the table. He rested his hands on the carved wood, the same seat his father had used, and his father before him, and even earlier, the Winter Kings. Brandon should have sat there someday, but fate had carved another path. He drew a slow breath.
"My lords," Ned began, "thank you for coming swiftly. I know this summons has caused concern."
A few murmurs answered him. Most eyes remained fixed upon him, suspicious, curious, or simply waiting.
Ned continued. "I asked you here because there are matters of great importance that must be spoken of. Matters concerning the North and perhaps the whole realm."
Robert Glover leaned forward. "Is it another war in the seven kingdoms, my lord?"
Lord Umber snorted. "Or wildlings from beyond the wall? If the 'Free folks' want another fight, we'll give 'em one."
Benjen frowned, "I don't have any knowledge about any large wildlings movements from the Lord Commander of the wall."
Ned raised a hand, and the room quieted.
"Yes and no," he said. "There is a war, but not in the seven kingdoms. And no, the wildlings do not want another war, not yet at least."
He looked around the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. These men were loyal. Strong. Hardy. They had held the North through winter storms and raiders, and they would do so again. But what Manny had spoken of, was not something easy to believe.
Ned took a steadying breath.
"Winter is coming."
The lords exchanged confused glances. A few frowned lightly.
Lord Karstark spoke first, puzzled. "My lord, that is the motto of House Stark. We all know it well."
Ned nodded slowly. "Aye. But I do not speak today of words carved into stone or spoken in warning or remind you of our House's motto. I speak of the true winter."
The hall fell quiet. Maester Luwin shifted uneasily beside him.
Ned looked across the hall. Manny stood unmoving, as though carved from stone, watching the room with sharp, knowing eyes.
Ned continued.
"I repeat, Winter is coming. Not as a warning of harsh snows or long nights, but as a truth. A winter that will shake the North, the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps the whole realm."
The hall fell quiet.
He pressed on. "You all remember the tales of the Long Night- when the sun hid itself for a generation, when the dead walked and the living hid behind walls of stone and fire. But the tales you hear by the hearth or as children are not just tales. It is a truth, as is Winterfell, as is The Wall and as is the Night's Watch."
The temperature in the room seemed to sink.
"The records of the First Men tell the true story," Ned said. "A truth buried under snow and time. The truth of why there is an unimaginable wall and truth of the Nights' watch."
Maester Luwin shifted uneasily beside him.
Ned looked around at them, the men he trusted and relied on to protect the North.
"We stand at the edge of something old. Something powerful. Something we have forgotten for too long." He leaned forward slightly, voice quieter but stronger. "Winter is coming. Not just in words, but in reality."
The lords stared at him, stunned into silence.
End of Chapter 4 — Winter Is Coming