Eddard Stark was born in Winterfell, the capital of the North, in the year 263 Aegon's Landing.
He is thirty-five years old this year, just a year younger than King Robert.
Eddard, often called Ned, has a long face, dark brown hair, and gray eyes. His black beard is neatly trimmed. Sixteen years ago, just before the outbreak of Robert's Rebellion, his elder brother Brandon Stark rode to the Red Keep in King's Landing with a group of noble companions to demand a duel with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, who had allegedly abducted their sister, Lyanna Stark. Instead, King Aerys II, known as the Mad King, captured them. Using Brandon as bait, the Mad King lured Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, to the capital and brutally executed both father and son along with their noble retainers.
With his father and elder brother dead, Eddard Stark became the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
Ned was neither as tall nor as handsome as Brandon, and he lacked his brother's daring prowess in battle. To unite the noble houses against the Mad King, he married Catelyn Tully, Brandon's betrothed, securing the support of Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun. Together, Ned and Catelyn had five children. Their eldest, Robb Stark, now fifteen, is the heir to House Stark.
The Westerlands, ruled by Lord Tywin Lannister, are bounded on the west by the Sunset Sea and on the east by the Riverlands of Lord Hoster Tully. The River Road links the two regions, running through Golden Tooth, held by House Lefford.
Eddard Stark is a man of honor, fairness, and quiet kindness. Yet his somber demeanor, cold and still as the frozen North, often leads others to mistake him for aloof or proud. But his unwavering commitment to justice and integrity has earned him the respect and loyalty of the northern lords.
Among his children and ward Jon Snow, Eddard is the standard they all strive to live up to.
Jon Snow, Ned's acknowledged bastard, bears the most distinct Stark features of all the children. Lean and angular, he shares his father's long face, dark brown hair, and gray eyes. In contrast, his half-siblings inherited their mother's auburn hair and blue eyes.
As Ned looked at the earnest expression on Jon's face, a wave of sorrow welled up in his chest. He knew the truth of Jon's birth, but he could never reveal it, not without igniting scandal, straining his bond with King Robert, and putting everything at risk.
Jon Snow was the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Robert's most hated enemy, and Lyanna Stark, Eddard's sister. Sixteen years ago, Rhaegar had taken Lyanna to the Tower of Joy in the Red Mountains of Dorne, where she gave birth to the boy now standing before him. When Ned and six loyal companions reached the tower, they faced off against three members of the Kingsguard in a bloody battle. Only Ned and one friend survived.
This was the legendary Battle at the Tower of Joy.
Inside the tower, Ned found Lyanna bleeding out on her birthing bed, a newborn child at her side. With her dying breath, she begged Ned to protect her son. Ned carried the child back north, claiming him as his own illegitimate son and raising him for fifteen years as a Stark. Only his wife Catelyn knew the truth, and she could never accept the boy, treating him with cold disdain and suspicion.
"Father, please," Jon said. "I want to know, who was my mother? Is she alive or dead? What was her name? Was she a fisherman's daughter? Or was it Lady Wylla?"
Ned looked at Jon. "Snow" was the surname given to all bastards of the North, a constant reminder of their illegitimacy. Just as bastards of Dorne are given the surname "Sand," a reference to the desert's harshness, so too does "Snow" carry a weight of scorn.
"Jon," Ned said solemnly, "when I return from the South, I will come to you at Castle Black. Then I'll tell you everything, about you, and about your mother."
Disappointment flickered in Jon's eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He knew his father wanted him to be strong.
"Yes, Father. I'll wait for your return."
"I promise, when I return."
Afterward, Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, said farewell to his brother Ned. He and Jon turned their horses northward. A white direwolf, its fur pure as snow, burst from the underbrush to follow Jon, his loyal companion, Ghost.
Months earlier, Ned's men had captured a deserter from the Night's Watch in the Wolfswood. The man, raving with fear, claimed he'd seen White Walkers in the haunted forest north of the Wall, ancient, ice-born monsters not seen for thousands of years. Ned had dismissed the tale as madness and executed the man with Ice, the ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark. On the way home, they found a dead direwolf, the first seen south of the Wall in centuries, killed by a stag's antlers. She had left behind six pups.
Each Stark child had taken one pup. Now, several months later, the wolves had grown as large as hounds. Jon's wolf, Ghost, was snow-white from head to paw, without a single patch of color. Startled by Jon's departure, Ghost darted after him through the grass.
Further up the Kingsroad, another group awaited Benjen and Jon. Among them was Yoren, a recruiter for the Night's Watch and a grizzled "black raven." He was escorting two young thieves sentenced to take the black. With them was a figure known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, a dwarf, the second son of Lord Tywin Lannister: Tyrion Lannister, the infamous "Imp," accompanied by two retainers.
Tyrion had been born deformed, with stunted legs and an oversized head that seemed too heavy for his neck. His brow was pronounced, his face unsightly, with mismatched eyes, one black, one green, and a tangled beard of blond and brown. He had come north with his royal brother-in-law, King Robert, to fulfill a long-held dream: to stand atop the Wall at the world's end and piss into the frozen wilderness beyond.
The southern end of the Kingsroad led thousands of miles to King's Landing. The northern end stretched from outside Winterfell all the way to Castle Black, a stronghold at the Wall.
For eight thousand years, House Stark had sent one son per generation to the Wall. The Wall itself, one of the Nine Wonders Made by Man, was a colossal barrier, a thousand miles long and seven hundred feet high, built to hold back wildlings and worse from the far North.
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Meanwhile, as fat King Robert traveled south with his royal retinue and new Hand, events were moving swiftly in the Westerlands. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, was accelerating his recruitment efforts. His three-pronged plan unfolded simultaneously:
From Casterly Rock, he personally recruited 900 foot soldiers.
In Lannisport, his brother Ser Chiswick Clegane gathered veterans from their old Bladetooth Company, aiming for 1,000 men.
Ser Raff the Sweetling and Ser Dunsen carried Lord Tywin's decree to conscript 500 cavalry from the dungeons of noble houses across the Westerlands.
At Casterly Rock, the first batch of 300 new recruits exceeded expectations tenfold. With promises of tax breaks for soldiers' families, exemption from grain taxes in the first year, no need to supply their own weapons or armor, and a monthly pay of seven silver stags, enthusiasm soared. Men lined up before dawn, eager to enlist. The noise of the crowds stirred the entire castle awake.
Ten days later, the recruitment drive ended in triumph. All 900 new soldiers had been conscripted. The 150 original garrison troops were folded into the force, forming a well-structured army of 1,050 infantry. Training began under the Mountain's watchful, and merciless, eye. To Lord Gawen and Lady Sybil, it was astonishing that not only did the soldiers endure the brutal drills, but they trained with zeal.
The sheer speed of this military buildup left Lord Gawen in disbelief. It felt like a fever dream.
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Night.
The main keep, in the lord's chambers.
A large wooden chest was rolled in and placed before Lord Gawen and Lady Sybil.
Present were the Mountain, Jeyne, and two visitors from Clegane's Keep, Old Buzz and his granddaughter, Esther. They had arrived by carriage to deliver the chest.
Esther was the new bride of Ser Polliver Clegane.
At the Mountain's signal, Lord Gawen opened the heavy chest.
Both he and his wife gasped.
Inside was a treasure trove of Gold Dragons.
There was another identical chest waiting in the main hall.
The coins gleamed, freshly minted and flawless, reflecting golden light from their smooth surfaces.
This was the Mountain's secret minting operation.
With a rich gold mine and a functioning mint running day and night, producing coinage was simplicity itself.
"Father," said the Mountain, "this is five hundred gold dragons. With the five hundred in the hall, we have enough to pay the army's wages for the next three months."
Lord Gawen and Lady Sybil could hardly believe their eyes.
"I said I'd handle the coin," the Mountain added. "As for the milk purchases, they weren't just about winning hearts, we can turn that into a profitable business too. Jeyne, did you get the glass tubes I asked for?"
"I've had merchants in Lannisport track down several types of glass tubes in different shapes and sizes. Tell me what you want done."
"I'll show you tonight," the Mountain said. "And you, Father and Mother, should come too."
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