Chapter 74: The Wolf Brothers
Benjen Stark arrived at Last Hearth at last and he had a grin on his face to meet at last his brat of a younger brother.
The Umbers gave him the honors due a Stark or a MoorStark now , but Benjen took them with a careless ease that made the whole thing seem more like a joke than a welcome. He embraced GreatJon hard enough to make the big man laugh, and when his eyes found Artos, that same grin turned sharper.
"Well," Benjen said, looking him up and down, "I see the Essos still hadn't kill you Arty , despite you trying very hard for it." Benjen said in a sarcastic tone that show his care for his brother
Artos gave a snort. "They tried you know but I am not a man to die so easily."
Benjen laughed. "Aye, and failed. A shame. I had hoped to hear you had finally be a wiser but still a fool like when you were a child."
Artos shook his head and hugged him.
Benjen hugged him. A emotional moment for both the brothers.
GreatJon barked a laugh at that, and even a few of the men nearby smiled. Benjen had that sort of way about him, easy and cutting at once for his own amusement.
He got it soon enough.
Over ale and dark bread, with the fire burning low and the hall quieter than it had been before, GreatJon told him what had happened in the feast hall. He did not spare the worst of it. He told Benjen how the fool had spoken out of turn, how Artos had glared at him like a wolf staring down a deer, how the dagger had flown and the hall had gone still.
Benjen listened with his cup in hand, his expression slowly changing from amusement to open delight.
When GreatJon reached the part where Artos had crushed the man's skull with his bare hand, Benjen almost choked on his drink.
"You did what?" he asked Artos, half laughing, half incredulous.
Artos looked sour. "He was asking for it."
Benjen leaned back and let out a loud laugh. "Aye, and so you gave it to him. Gods, Arty, you are a fool. Father had always said you are too wolf blooded to use your brain of yours "
Artos's eyes narrowed. "You find this funny?"
"I find it exactly what I would expect from you, Arty" Benjen said, still grinning. "A man starts mouthing off, and instead of cursing him properly like any sane person, you turn the whole hall into a bloodbath. That's typical you."
Benjen laughed again, louder this time. "Seven hells. I wish I had been there."
Artos gave him a flat stare. "You would not have laughed then."
"Oh, I would have," Benjen said. "Then I would have told you you are mad son of a bitch."
Artos took a long drink and set the horn down a little too hard at the bullying he is facing.
That sobered Benjen just enough to make his grin ease back a little.
Artos looked at him for a moment, then gave a short nod. Benjen's humor did not mean he was blind. He knew the difference between a jest and a wound. He knew what it meant for men to speak too freely of Stark blood, especially now.
Benjen leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on his knees. "Still, you could have cracked his jaw and left it at that."
"And let the hall think Stark blood is something they can spit on?" Artos asked.
Benjen shrugged. "No. But there are ways to remind men they are fools without painting the room red."
Artos snorted. "You sound like Father."
"That is because Father was usually right."
"Aye," Artos muttered feeling a deja vu from before. "That was his worst habit."
Benjen laughed, then looked at him and asked him quietly. "So what exactly did you think you were proving?"
Artos went quiet for a moment.
When he answered, the humor in him had gone.
"That Stark blood is still Stark blood," he said. "That whatever brothers do, whatever tempers and quarrels and old wrongs there are, no man gets to think the house itself is weak because of it. I've been gone too long for some men's liking. Ned has done something they do not understand. So they start talking. I meant to stop that before it began."
Benjen studied him, then gave a slow nod. "Aye. That much I can see."
GreatJon looked between the two of them, but said nothing. He knew when brothers needed to be left to their own sort of understanding.
Benjen took a drink, then grinned again, though it was smaller now. "You are still an arse, though."
Artos gave a humorless snort. "Look who's talking"
Benjen gave a short laugh. "Good. I would have been disappointed if you had gone soft."
---
Far away in Winterfell, In the chambers of Lord Eddard Stark
A letter reached Lord Eddard Stark
It came folded and sealed, carried in by a chilled rider, the wax stamped with Last Hearth's mark. Ned broke it in the solar while Maester Luwin stood nearby with a bundle of ledgers under one arm and that patient, watchful look he always wore when he thought a lord was about to be handed trouble.
Ned read once.
Then again.
His face did not change much, but Luwin knew him well enough to see the tightening in his jaw.
"Well?" the maester asked at last.
Ned set the letter down slowly. "It seems my brother has made quite a spectacle of himself."
Luwin's mouth twitched. "That could describe a number of things, my lord. Which spectacle, precisely?"
Ned exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. "According to GreatJon A fool spoke against Stark blood in the hall at Last Hearth and Artos answered with a dagger through the man's hand, then crushed his skull with his bare hand."
"Infront of the whole hall. If that's wasn't enough he burned him."
Luwin stared at him for a moment.
Then, very carefully, "I see."
Ned rubbed at his face with one hand. "You do not look surprised."
"I am not," Luwin said. "I have known your brother long enough to know that his temper has always had poor manners. Even you father had enough complains about it."
Ned gave a short, weary sound that might have been amusement if he had been in a better mood.
Luwin stepped closer and took the letter from the table, reading the lines again for himself. "The question, then, is not whether he did it, but why."
Ned's eyes lifted. "You think there is a reason beyond anger?"
"There is always a reason beyond anger," Luwin said. "The anger only opens the door."
Ned leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "He did it to remind the hall that Stark blood is not to be mocked. That much is plain."
"Aye," said Luwin. "And perhaps to remind them that House Stark is still feared."
Ned frowned. "Feared?"
"Some men follow honor," Luwin said. "Others follow fear. A house as old and ancient as yours didn't rule these lands with love , My Lord. They ruled it fear and brutality and savagness."
That quieted Ned.
The maester saw it and went on more gently, "This may have been a brutal answer to a stupid man's words, but the effect is not difficult to understand. Men in the North have long memories. They will speak of what Artos did. Some will call it madness. Some will call it strength. Some will call it proof that the Starks still have teeth. Wolfs will bite if they don't behavem"
Ned gave a faint, dry smile. "And some will say he should never be left in a room with wine and a grievance."
Luwin allowed himself a small smile at that.
Ned looked back at the letter, then folded it once more and set it aside. "He has always been the difficult one "
"Your brother?" Luwin said mildly. "It's quite an understatement, My Lord"
Ned shook his head, but there was a little warmth in it now.
Then the smile faded.
"He has been away so long," Ned said, quieter. " Then I hear something like this, and I remember exactly who he is."
Luwin considered him. "And what is that?"
Ned was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "A wolf , DemonWolf as southerners said the best "
Outside the solar, Winterfell remained cold and patient beneath the snow. Inside, the letter lay on the table like an ember that had not yet burned itself out.
And far away at Last Hearth, Artos Stark sat with blood on his hands in the memory of half the North, while his brothers laughed, cursed, and tried to decide what sort of man he had become.
Not all of them would decide the same thing.
-
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