The moment Robert Baratheon caught sight of his old friend, the excitement on his face was impossible to hide. His broad grin stretched from ear to ear, making him look for a moment less like a king and more like an overgrown boy spotting a childhood companion after years apart.
Without hesitation, Robert strode forward with heavy steps that made the snow crunch loudly beneath his boots. He pulled Eddard Stark into a tight embrace before the latter even had time to react. While holding him, Robert gave him a quick, almost instinctual once-over—checking his hair, his armor, his posture—as if trying to confirm that this man was truly the same Ned Stark he remembered.
A booming laugh erupted from the king's chest.
"You haven't changed at all, Ned," he declared, his voice echoing through the courtyard like a rolling drum.
Eddard Stark could only stare at him with a mixture of helplessness and long-suppressed affection. The years had weathered them both, yet Robert's enthusiasm was as reckless and unrestrained as ever. For a moment, Ned found himself at a loss for words.
If only I could say the same about you… he thought silently.
Fifteen years ago—back when they had fought side by side for the Iron Throne—the man standing before him had looked entirely different. In those days, Robert Baratheon had been a sight to behold: tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly handsome. His clean-shaven jawline, flawlessly sculpted features, and bright, lively eyes had been the dream of countless noblewomen. Six and a half feet tall, muscled like a champion forged in the gods' own furnace, Robert had moved with the confidence of a born conqueror.
Clad in polished armor, wearing a great helm crowned with immense antlered horns, he had looked like a giant among men—like the very embodiment of martial might, radiating power and vitality. The leather, steel, and blood that clung to him during campaign days had been a noblewoman's perfume; to Ned, they had been the familiar scents of a comrade in arms.
That Robert had been a king carved from stone.
But the man before him now…
With age and indulgence had come great change. Robert's thick beard, black as forged iron, could not disguise the multiple layers of flesh beneath it. Heavy dark circles rested under his eyes like bruises. His once-lean warrior's body had grown round and soft, and his belly—oh, there was no missing it—pushed forward proudly, as though it too demanded royal recognition.
Ned felt a pang of sadness. The last time he had seen Robert was nine years ago, during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Together they had marched beneath the banners of the crowned stag and the direwolf, their armies united against the Ironborn's uprising. He remembered the clash of waves against the walls of Pyke, the roar of battle in the halls of the Greyjoy fortress, and how Robert—still fierce, still formidable—had personally accepted Lord Balon's surrender.
He remembered, too, how Robert had lifted the defeated lord's youngest son, Theon Greyjoy, declaring he would take the boy as his ward, as proof of loyalty from the Iron Islands.
But now, the man standing before him had changed so greatly that Ned found himself struggling to reconcile memory with reality.
Still, no matter how Robert looked, he was not only Ned's king but his oldest friend. Duty and affection bound him in equal measure.
And so, though Robert treated him like a brother, Ned Stark followed tradition. He lowered his head, dropped to one knee in the snow, and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty," he said solemnly, "Winterfell awaits your command."
The king's laughter briefly faded, replaced by something softer—nostalgia, perhaps, or gratitude. Behind them, seeing their lord kneel, Catelyn Stark motioned for the children to follow suit. Arya, Sansa, Bran, and Rickon, confused yet obedient, immediately knelt alongside their mother and brothers. Soon, every man and woman in the courtyard was bowing, creating a sea of bent heads before the king.
Meanwhile, the royal escort dismounted, and Winterfell's grooms rushed forward to take their reins. Queen Cersei Lannister arrived next, accompanied by her golden-haired children. Her expression was composed, as cold and flawless as carved marble. Ned greeted her with a respectful bow, kissing the ruby set in her ring before rising at Robert's instruction.
Robert then turned to Catelyn with a smile too warm to be entirely proper. He embraced her carefully—tight enough to show affection, light enough not to anger her husband or bruise her ribs. Catelyn accepted the gesture with calm dignity, accustomed as she was to Robert's boisterous nature.
Afterward came the formal introductions between the Stark children and the royal offspring. Jon Arryn had once joked that children were the only honest diplomats, but even so, the parents watched proudly as each child greeted the others with varying degrees of shyness or politeness. Compliments were exchanged, courtesies were fulfilled, and the ceremony concluded smoothly.
But Robert was growing impatient.
The moment the last formality was complete, he seized Ned's arm.
"Ned," he said, the jovial tone fading from his voice, "take me to the crypts. I want to visit your family's burial mounds."
Ned hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. He knew exactly whom Robert wished to see.
And he knew Robert had never forgotten her.
A quiet, helpless smile touched Ned's lips as he signaled for a lantern. No further words were needed. The silence between them spoke clearly enough.
Queen Cersei, however, did not share their sentiment.
"We've been traveling for nearly a month," she began sharply, her tone icy enough to frost steel. "We left before sunrise, and everyone is exhausted—cold, hungry, weary."
Her green eyes narrowed slightly. "Must we rush to see a dead woman? The dead are not going anywhere."
Her meaning was clear, and so was the disdain she felt for the king's intentions.
Robert's gaze snapped toward her with a coldness that silenced the entire courtyard. He said nothing, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. Seeing this, Jaime Lannister quickly stepped forward, lightly touching Cersei's hand in warning. The queen fell silent, though her expression did not soften.
Robert gave a short, bitter laugh, turned away from her without a word, and marched toward the entrance of the crypt.
The Stark family crypts—deep, ancient, and filled with the stone statues of countless Lords of Winterfell—were among the most sacred places in the North. Each lord rested there with an iron sword laid across his statue's lap, said to bind their spirits to peaceful sleep and prevent their restless ghosts from wandering the world. Many of the oldest swords had long since rusted away, leaving only reddish-brown stains upon the stone.
Unlike Winterfell's other subterranean chambers, the crypts were not kept warm by the hot springs beneath the castle. Instead, they remained cold and still, a place where whispers seemed to cling to the walls and a chill rose from the earth like breath from the dead.
Bundling himself more tightly in his heavy cloak, Ned stepped forward with the lantern, illuminating the narrow spiral staircase that descended into the darkness.
"Come," he said softly.
He led the way.
As the two men walked ahead, the courtyard fell into awkward silence. Catelyn Stark, left behind with the queen and the rest of the royal party, found herself momentarily unsure how to proceed. She knew why Robert was in such a hurry, and she understood the weight of the memory he carried. But standing beside Queen Cersei Lannister at such a moment was… uncomfortable, to say the least.
Catelyn stole a quick glance at the queen, hoping to gauge her mood.
But Cersei did not notice. She was still staring coldly in the direction Robert had gone, her lips pressed into a thin line.
A few seconds later, however, her gaze shifted.
It landed squarely on Karl—still standing at the edge of the crowd, helmet on, silent and unmoving.
Karl felt her eyes on him and instinctively turned his head.
At that moment, a white-clad figure suddenly stepped forward, blocking the queen's view—and interrupting whatever silent tension had begun to form.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)