Jon Snow always sensed a kind of unconcealed edge in his father's voice whenever he mentioned the name Rickard Karstark, the 'King in the Black Robe'. As if Rickard were not the son of the North, as Eddard calls him, but an ironclad viceroy who must be obeyed with a bow. Jon and Casta have known since childhood that there is another king equal to their father, who until now has seemed almost as distant as the ghosts of their ancestors. While Eddard was a mighty lord in the palace and in Winterfell, king over the whole northern realm, with hundreds of subjugated houses marching to war at a single command, the Great King of the Karstarks was until now but a shadow of a distant mountain, a dark cloud of smoke in the boundless blue sky.
- "Your cousin Rickard, the Great King of the Karstarks, the Chosen of the North," Eddard once said, when he had drunk too much wine, "and no other son of man deserves the shield of Blacksword Barth than one descended from Rickard. The gods are just, but the world is cruel and wicked! Still, they swore by Rickard's name on the great feasts, when they swept the flame from the ever-burning fire of the ancients around in the dead of winter, when the sun disappeared behind the grey-white snow-capped mountains and Long Lake was covered in the thickest ice. The king took the branch dipped in the heart of eternal fire from the septon to light the great bonfire in the godswood, beneath the trees crumbling under the weight of snow. The sacred fire of the ancestors can never die out. I have lit the flame in the name of the Great King Rickard, so that the ancestors may see that I honour our sacred tradition, that I will not despise their will, that I will use it to drive away the forces of darkness that beset the Seven Kingdoms every year. Blessings to the clan of the Wolves!
The lords of the subjugated houses, standing in a circle, would then anoint their faces with the blood of the horses they had sacrificed, and the septons would begin beating their horn drums and singing as an accompaniment to the knowledge of the souls of the ancestors in the flames. Jon Snow remembered all these celebrations and ceremonies well. Just as he remembered how sombre his father's face was when the vassals took his heavy, portable throne, decorated with wolf shapes, and he sprinkled the thick layer of snow with sacrificial blood, so that the grass beneath would grow in the coming year. He loved to feel the warmth of the fire's flames on him in the bitter cold, to feel at one with the will of the ancestors and the light from beyond the Wall, kindled in the ancient homeland eight thousand years ago, when the ancestors of the Starks, the pureblood clans, descended from the northern forests, defeated the savages, united the tribes, and founded the first empire in the wilderness of Winterfell.
- "Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion told them, when they knew he was escorting them straight to the Governor of the West, "and everything the Protector of Lannisport gives you with his hand will be given to your father as if it were your father himself. Never disobey his commands, and never think that any can be mightier than he, to whom the gods have given the golden lion's robe of power and dominion and the Lion's Roar, a sword forged of Valyrian steel.
At first Jon Snow wanted to protest.
- "Robert wants it so," Casta told him later, "Robert wants Tywin to be our lord and commander!
- "But he is not our king," replied Jon Snow. "I think, my brother, that we are drifting like a derrick on the waves of the Blackwater. When will we Starks finally decide our fate?
- You are the elder - Casta furrowed his brows and turned away.
Casta stepped up onto the big royal chariot drawn by seven horses to take his place alongside their stepmother, brother, three younger brothers and two sisters. The Lannister banners fluttered brightly in the wind beneath the huge castle keep. Robb's face was slightly shadowed by their father's raised banners, beneath the rampant wolf's head of the enemy, attached to a tall pole with ribbons.
- I advise you, Snow, to always listen to the noble born! For the gods have chosen me to be the heir of Winterfell for good reason.
Jon Snow paused angrily and looked long into his brother's eyes. Robb held his gaze, measured as a wolf. He was very displeased that he had called him a bastard again. Had not the shadow of the wolf touched him too? Then his stepmother appeared beside Robb, and her voice was uncontradicted.
- Don't keep us waiting, Jon Snow! Or do you want to stay here?
Jon Snow bowed his head.
- I don't want to stay here.
- Then let's go.
Jon Snow walked slowly towards the cart, as if obeying his stepmother was a mere game. As he clambered up beside his brother, he could feel the fiery, determined will radiating from his body. Lady Stark was dressed in a white coat, but on the finger of her hand, which she did not hide, was Eddard's ring. As the procession moved with a loud roar, with many chariots, horses, and a host of servants on foot, Jon Snow thought of the gleaming stones of Winterfell' palace. Ser Kevan, riding beside them at one of the rest stops, said the journey to the place Tywin's men called Casterly Rock would take more than three days. No one, not even their mother, told them why Robert had decided to head for Tywin Lannister's lodgings.
- "That is the duty," Lady Stark said finally, with a stern face, "The Lannisters' approval is required for Robert to legally take your father's inheritance. No duty can be broken without dishonour!
For a long time, the only sounds were the soft chatter of white-robed knights on the backs of their battle mules, the buzzing of bees swarming from the wildflowers of the royal forest, the horses' snorting, the clatter of the horses' neighing. The lane of the warpath, steadily winding north-west, continued unabated, leading the long procession like a snake coiled among the roots of the trees of the godswood. Slowly Jon Snow began to grow accustomed to the songs of the south, the dance of heroes, of far lands, of great wanderings and fair maidens. He and Casta sat by the campfires, and the Crakehalls and Westerlings made them drink mare's milk. Ser Barristan Selmy said one night that this was how the knights of the Kingsguard lived, a good life, a life worthy of knights, warriors, men.
- 'That was before,' said old Selmy one evening, 'the world was rotten and people built themselves houses with stone walls to live in. There was no need of a tent, only the blue of the infinite sky as a roof over a man's head, and nothing to separate him from the gods but his own body. Such were the knights.
Jon Snow remembered his father once saying, "the only security is a shelter that can be pulled up to camp at any time." The world has changed a lot since then. Jon Snow remembered well the proud-looking men in their armor, the long-bearded, brawny men who were said to be Karstarks. Clinging to his uncle's arm, he watched from the high wooden scaffolding as the Karstarks greeting his father bowed and his sworn Nightwatchman drew his bow to shoot an arrow into the darkening sky. His father looked to his eyes, with his thick brown beard, like the Conqueror Aegon on dragonback, swift, young and strong as the lord of beasts. His memory was vivid as he rode seven times in succession around the huge stake driven into the ground where the sacrificial deer was fastened, and shot three times with his mighty bow - the animal was struck through the heart. Will he be like that one day? Would the gods want him to succeed his father? He could clearly hear Benjen Stark's voice outside the Wolf's Lair saying: "The Starks of old say that the Seven Kingdoms will burn in fire. As the walls of the peoples of the North weaken, in the end times dragons will ravage this realm and men will worship false gods. The realms become more fragile as the true gods disappear. Fathers attack sons, sons attack their fathers. The world will be ruled by the dark spirit of King Targaryen, the young will no longer respect the old, the old will despise the young. Children will be killed in their mothers' wombs, elders will die without dignity, suffering and abandoned, the cruelest murderers will die without just punishment and surrounded by the respect of many. Brother against brother, inner balance and nobility of spirit, truth will be irrelevant, the world will be ruled by falsehood and chaos, gold will be the only difference between men. He who cheats will come first. But the man who fights against the order of power will end the corruption of the world."
Jon Snow lay in the grass, next to the wagons, listening to the horses saddling, the people talking, the grey sky. The constellations of the houses, the Wolf, the Dragon, the Hawk, the Stag, loomed above him like landmarks on a mysterious map of the Seven Kingdoms. The landscape began to change slowly on the third day. From behind the poison-green canopy of the forest of the Golden Road, a vision of a castle built of wood and stone loomed in the foreground of the wide mountain range. The Sunset Sea swept into the endless distance. In the heat of the slowly setting afternoon sun, Tywin Lannister's vast palace of logs and rock seemed almost to float. From behind its tall, pointed spires, the boys could see the distant glow of the silver and gold plates of the roofs. Mount Casterly did not lie to its name, a double ring of yellow-washed walls rose before the royal palace, with watchtowers and high iron gates: it was as if a mountain were to be erected in front of the tents and houses. While the army waited, the royal carriage, escorted by Robert's bodyguards, passed through the ornately carved gate. Jon Snow had never before seen such accommodation. Behind the walls, figures clad in colourful robes and yellowish red gowns hurried about their business or gazed at the chariot and its disciplined riders. As the chariot approached the palace, the man recognised the lion with its trident crown, and below, on the pointed stakes, the shapes of deer carcasses, sabres, wolf skins, outstretched-winged hawks, horses and dragon carcasses, idols. The porches, decorated with gilded lion heads, were supported by wide wooden pillars, and beside the pillars stood guards in plate armour, their faces wavering, their high helmets adorned with pendants, their spears painted yellow in their hands. Their commander hurried to meet them, and after a long announcement, Tyrion, who had come to the wagons, ordered them to follow.
- "My father wants to see the sons and heirs of Ned Stark," he said in a measured voice, after he had stood before them, "the son of Tytos wants to bless you and wants you to appear before him!
The brothers were not allowed to pass with their mother through the door of the throne room, which was decorated with horns and other sacred objects. They were led into the high-ceilinged hall of the royal palace by an official dressed in red and yellow silks. Inside, it was dim and unusually quiet. Servants paced unhurriedly in front of dazzlingly patterned carpets hung on the walls and ornamental weapons with gilded grips. Jon Snow could only hear the dull thud of Robb's leather boots as his brother followed the bowing official with heavy steps. As they marched through the throne room, he felt the piercing gaze of the guards around them. At the far end of the hall waited a lean old man with grey hair, sitting rigidly on a high wooden stool. On either side of the throne, a gilded brazier burned with herbs, enveloping the man in a bluish smoke, so that Jon could not see his face clearly, only his yellowish animal fur with black stripes, the only ornament of the Lord of Casterly Rock over his simple black coat. Tyrion and the silent clerk bowed to the ground before Tywin, at whose beckoning all three Stark men finally dropped to one knee. From his richly carved platform, the monarch scrutinized their appearance and stature with authoritative eyes, as if he were mustering the horses before him to see if their bloodlines were suitable for inclusion in the royal stud. While Casta and Robb stared with their heads to the ground, Jon Snow raised his head boldly. Tywin Lannister's wrinkled, round eyes cut like blades. His gaze was as stiff as if he were awake in a dream, but Jon Snow was well aware that the ruler was not asleep.
- 'I want,' said Tywin at last, 'these young men, our loyal men, the sons of the noble Lord Eddard Stark, to live among us in safety and honour.
Tyrion sighed with relief.
- 'I put their lives in your hands, as I put my own, Father. Rule me and rule them!
- 'I want you, Prince Robb,' Tywin continued, as if Tyrion had not been there, 'to provide our army with whatever they need, and to give them all the knowledge that the Lannister knights called to defend the Seven Kingdoms need to know! We must prepare against the Dragonlord. We will need every pureblood Karstark we have if we are to break the enemy. Stannis Baratheon must be punished for his insolence.
- 'I will, my lord,' said Robb, bowing his head again and striking his chest with his right hand, 'As long as I live, there will be no one in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare betray you!
Tywin's eyes narrowed. His previously cordial voice sounded cold, almost threatening.
- When I first led the war over the Wall at the age of twenty! In the time of Rickard Stark... in the time of the Great King, the Starks never lost!" his hand clenched into a fist and he was silent for a moment.
Robb stood speechless, head bowed. Casta glanced furtively at Jon Snow, who seemed to see fear in their brother's eyes. He was visibly shocked by the sudden change in the ruler's mood. Tywin's bodyguards waited with cold calm in their lion helmets. Snowy Jon watched the golden hilts of the long daggers, the blades like shuddering shadows in the guards' gun belts. Robert had sent them here to learn Tywin's decision: alliance or disenfranchisement. The Lord of Casterly Rock spoke again.
- The outlaws, the flagless Brotherhood and the rebels were all hiding in their hiding places when my envoys arrived," Tywin continued in a softer tone, "All Karstark on their white battle mare should follow the command of the King of the Starks to proclaim it with wolf spear down! From this day forth, Robb Stark is Lord of the North and King of the North. You have succeeded Ned Stark. I want all to obey you, Young Wolf, so that no one lives with vengeance or grudge against you in their heart. There must be order in the South and the North if we are to attack the East. Do you understand me, Robb Stark?
- I understand, my lord.
- All our strength is needed now. If there is discord between the Starks and the Lannisters, it will mean the end of the Seven Kingdoms.
- I assure you, Lord of Casterly Rock, that Lord Eddard's sons will be as loyal to you as their father or I was. You know well the kind of man our father is.
- 'A man who will not rebel against me while hating the Lannisters. No doubt, that is a virtue too.
Jon Snow sensed the bitterness in old Tywin's voice. The Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes cut like sharp knives as he looked at their faces again and again.
- How do I know that Ned Stark's hatred for me has not poisoned the minds of his sons?
The monarch raised his voice, barely perceptibly, and Jon Snow saw his brother flinch. He heard the thumping of feet. More bodyguards arrived to block the escape route in case Tywin Lannister captured them.
- 'I will do all I can,' Robb hastened to reply, 'to see that these two bastards take their rightful place at the head of your armies when the time comes. I swear to you by the name of the Ancient Kings of Winter that they will be for the glory of House Lannister, Lord Tywin!
Tywin sat stiffly, looking first at Casta and Jon Snow, then back to Robb's face.
- 'All three of you resemble your father,' he said at last, 'I hope that your virtue will be similar to Ned Stark's, eliminating his faults,' and then slowly, as if waiting for a sign from the God of the Weeks, he placed his palm on the tree of the throne chair.
Tyrion snapped his fingers.
- Go!
- 'You know what we have to do,' whispered Casta.
- "I know," nodded Jon Snow.
They had to step up the three wooden steps of the throne chair, kiss the wrinkled hand, and wait for the Lord of Casterly Rock to bend down and lay his hands on their heads. Snowy Jon felt his touch cold and dry. It was as if the blood was barely flowing in those long, wrinkled fingers, heavy with gold rings. He looked up again, and saw the ruler's mouth moving soundlessly. Did he now pronounce a blessing or a curse upon them? Their father had not loved the Lord of Casterly Rock. After Robert, Stannis should be the one to mount the Iron Throne, not Joffrey. But the Iron Throne always goes to the most deserving in the end. For it is in victory and strength that the true, holy and unalterable will of the gods is revealed. All this, however, hardly mattered, for the dead are dead, and the living are moving towards an unknown future that even the gods cannot foresee.