I know timeline is a bit confusing Cregan PoV is a bit ahead of timeline of others POV in most cases,like in this
Cregan arrived in essos for the few days nothing has started yet when letter is received in winterfell.
When Robbert arrived in winterfell, Cregan just finished the war . I know you thought it was started and over so quickly. It started late than you think and took time for info gathering, parley meeting (first one) . Force gathering,etc.
But it was over quickly no more than two week at most one and half week.
Chapter 73 – Death of the Hand
King's Landing
The bells of the Red Keep rang with a dull and somber rhythm.
Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, Warden of the East, and the last bridge between the realm and chaos, was dead.
He had passed quietly in his sleep, or so the maesters claimed. Some whispered it was peaceful—others, that it was too convenient.
King Robert Baratheon stood in his solar, staring out the window into the morning haze. His face was heavy, more solemn than his usual drunken merriment allowed.
"He was like a father to me," Robert muttered to no one in particular. "Raised me, taught me how to swing a sword, how to rule. And now… gone, just like that."
Ser Barristan Selmy stood respectfully behind him, arms crossed. Varys hovered near the shadows, quiet and unreadable.
"Send ravens to the North," Robert commanded hoarsely. "Tell Ned… tell him I'm coming. Tell him I need him."
"Of course, Your Grace," Varys said smoothly, bowing.
Robert poured himself a cup of wine and downed it in one gulp.
"He was the best of us," he said quietly. "And now I've got nothing but leeches, snakes, and fools crawling in my court."
---
Winterfell
The raven arrived by midday, its black wings casting a small shadow over the godswood. The letter bore the royal seal and the unmistakable handwriting of King Robert himself.
Ned Stark read the message in silence inside his solar. When he was done, he lowered the parchment and exhaled slowly.
"He's coming to Winterfell," he said.
Robb stood near the hearth, arms folded. "Just like that?"
Ned nodded. "Jon Arryn is dead. Robert comes to grieve—and to ask me to be his new Hand."
Robb looked troubled. "And what will you say?"
"The same thing I said last time," Ned replied. "That my place is in the North."
"You think he'll accept it this time?" Robb asked, doubtful.
"No," Ned admitted. "But I must try."
There was a long silence.
"I don't like it," Robb said at last. "The crown wants Sansa. Now the King wants you."
Ned offered a weary smile. "You sound more like your brother than you think."
Robb chuckled, then frowned again. "I miss him. Everything's quieter without him. Less shouting… fewer fights. But also fewer problems solved."
Ned smiled at that. "He has his way."
"On second thought it's better that way, he won't create any trouble like bitch slapping our future king who wants our sister's hand in marriage" Robb said, smirking. "But I'll admit—I feel better knowing Jon's here. At least one brother who doesn't court chaos."
Ned chuckled quietly, but then his face grew serious again. "Prepare the men. The King will be here within a fortnight."
"Yes, Father," Robb said. "Winterfell will be ready."
---
After the moons of travel
Winterfell — Courtyard
The sound of hooves thundered through the courtyard as King Robert Baratheon's grand royal procession rolled into Winterfell beneath overcast skies. Gold and black banners flapped in the cold northern wind, the crowned stag prancing defiantly over a field of coal. The direwolf banners of House Stark stood silent in contrast—grey and still, like the North itself.
Robert rode at the head, heavier than Ned remembered, his belly pressing against the fine leather of his tunic. His once-black beard had grown streaked with grey. But the eyes—that fire in them—still held the heat of the man Ned had marched beside during the rebellion.
The people of Winterfell bowed respectfully. No one cheered. The North remembered wounds too easily.
Tensions were high, and Ned knew why.
It wasn't just the King's arrival—it was the shadow behind it. A shadow shaped like a prince who had once pushed a girl.
The memory of Joffrey's cruelty toward Lyanna and the trial still lingered in Winterfell like smoke in the snow.
Robb stood beside his father, face grim and composed. Jon was nearby, quiet and observant. Sansa stood behind them, Arya scowled openly.
As Robert dismounted and strode toward Ned, the two old friends embraced like brothers.
"You got old," Robert said with a smirk.
"You got fat," Ned replied evenly.
They both laughed, but only briefly. The warmth between them was real, but the chill of politics was never far behind.
Both of them left for the crypts
---
Winterfell — The Great Hall (Later that Night)
A feast was held, but it was modest by southern standards. The halls echoed with music and chatter, but the atmosphere was laced with tension.
Afterward, Robert and Ned retired to the solar for privacy.
The fire crackled behind them. Robert poured himself a cup of strong northern ale, then sat heavily in a chair of carved weirwood.
"Ned," he said, more serious now. "You know why I've come."
Ned met his gaze.
"You're asking me to be your hand."
"Aye," Robert said. "Jon is dead. I need a man I trust. Someone who won't lie, cheat, or scheme. I need you, Ned. Be my Hand."
Ned looked away. "You know I cannot leave the North."
Robert grunted. "You said that last time. And Jon paid the price for bearing the weight alone."
Ned remained silent.
Robert leaned forward. "There's more. I want our houses bound—properly this time."
Ned stiffened.
"I want Sansa," Robert said. "For Joffrey. It's not just a match—it's unity. A Baratheon and a Stark. Old ties reforged. It'll calm the realm. After all that's happened, we need peace, not pride."
Ned stood. "You know what happened and know I can't accept."
Robert sighed. "You need to accept for the peace of the realm."
"Northern Lords won't accept this not after that, There was anger after the whole trial business."
Robert slammed the cup down, angry now. "Seven hells, Ned! Then marry and mend it. That's what alliances are for."
"No," Ned said simply.
Robert stared at him, eyes narrowing.
"And the Hand's seat?"
"No," Ned repeated.
Robert stood slowly. The fire cast his shadow across the chamber.
"You would refuse your king?"
Robert took a step closer. "One day," he said firmly. "One day, Ned. Think. For the sake of the realm. For the sake of old friendship. And for your daughter's future."
Ned said nothing.
Robert left with heavy steps, his cup forgotten on the table, the firelight dancing against the walls like restless ghosts.
---
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