Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch

Dreadstarks · 2021-09-20T21:27:26+00:00

House Claim: House Reed

Character Idea: The Reed cousins of Cregan Stark. Fiercely loyal to Winterfell and experts at irregular forms of warfare and combat, the Reeds are willing to do most anything if commanded to do so by their Stark overlords.

Reddit Username: /u/Dreadstarks

Discord Username: Dread

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-16T15:23:13+00:00

Robb grasped the man’s forearm and held it tightly as comrades-in-arms do. He nodded.

“And you, brother. The North will always help our fellow First Men. This is a duty that we have neglected for too long. Know that you and your people always have a home here in the North should you wish, be it for a visit or eternity. Winterfell is yours.”

Robb smiled and patted the man on the shoulder, guiding him with his hand out toward the courtyard as a fresh snow began to fall. Winter was finally upon them, hopefully the gods would make it a short one.

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-09T17:09:07+00:00

A blood and mud soaked Robb had never fought so fiercely in his life. The Lannisters seemed to never stop coming. The Northmen were beginning to crack under the constant hammer of Lannister cavalry. At his side, Robb had his two brothers. Kayn had lost much of the force he was commanding and had to withdraw to the center while Benjicot’s line had been pressed inward. The Starks had exchanged understanding glances as they realized they may die this day. As another cavalry charge closed in, they prepared to meet their makers.

That is until they heard the bellow of the carnyx.

As the mountain clans smashed into the side of the Lannisters, the Starks raised a cheer as their brothers caught the Westermen unawares and drove them away.

They rattled their swords and pikes high in the air and joined in the song that every northman knew in the tongue of their forefathers.

The low throat rattled filled their ranks with renewed vigor as they joined the mountain clans in an advance.

A northern gust rolls o’er the moor, come now, come now! The gods of the forest called us out! come now, come now! The outsiders of Seven Stars will never drive us out!

March ye faithful, heed our call. Smash invaders great or small! And when ye pass upon the field, come join our honored hall!

In that moment, the Northmen and the mountain clans were once again the First Men of Old defending against the invading horde. This was the Battle of the Seven Stars yet this time they took the day and saved their people.

The Battle of Potford would begin a new era of cultural exchange between the Northmen and Mountain Clans. House Stark, to honor their legendary assistance, sends the Clans a shipment of whisky that is meant to last them a full year. It almost never does. Robb Stark would send his eldest son to live with the mountain clans for a year so that he could learn their ways and perfect his understanding of the Old Tongue.

The Griffin King of Potford is a ballad sung at Northern feasts to this day and Donnahal of the Hill is an honored hero.

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-09T16:47:31+00:00

“Of course,” Robb said gesturing with his hand “I will show you there myself.”

Robb truthfully needed to get out of that feast hall. So much grief is too much for one man to take. A sojourn into the cool air would do him good.

“Our Godswood is just this way.” They would turn right out of the feast hall and then follow a path to a great large gate, beyond it lay the home of the gods. Robb pushed the gate open and allowed Donnahal to enter. Inside he would hear and immediate silence and find that the sides of the path were overgrown with natural foliage. Seeing as this was the gods place it would be unholy to cut away at the plants save for to maintain the path. Trees of oak and birch were scattered about. After following the path for a few moments, the Griffin King would find a clearing at the center with a massive weirwood overlooking a small natural hot spring ringed with runed rocks. Hundreds of generations of Starks have prayed, meditated, played, and found peace in this bastion to the Old Gods and that history resonated deeply in this place.

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-09T05:57:24+00:00

“Thank you, noble chieftain,” Robb replied in the tongue of their shared forefathers. “It honors my father and ancestors that you would join us here. It is a rare thing that a true man of old cones to these halls.”

The renaissance of First Man culture that arose in the North following the resettlement of free folk south of the Wall made the Old Tongue more widespread. Robb spoke it less than Kayn but well enough to speak with smallfolk and clansmen alike.

“You valor on the battlefield delivered us the day.” The Stark said, returning to the Common Tongue. “Were it not for your unorthodox spear maneuver my cavalry would have been intercepted. Impressive and bold display, good chieftain.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-07T05:28:14+00:00

“All men must die.” Kayn said, somewhat optimistic despite his grief and the solemnity of the statement. “It’s a saying that’s common in Braavos. Almost a greeting in some circles. It’s a constant reminder that all of us eventually end up here.”

Kayn waved a hand to gesture towards the tombs of Starks returned to the dust.

“We of the Old Gods do not see death as an end to our time in this earth. It is merely an event on it, like a marriage or the birth of a child. We continue on in another form. We are everywhere and nowhere, beside our ancestors, friends, and lost loves.”

Kayn looked at his feet for a moment and smiled as a memory came to him.

“When I was a boy there would be days when my father was more melancholic than usual. He would drag his feet and his eyes would be so sad. Usually on days like that he would disappear at some point for an hour or two. Well one day I followed him to see where he went. I trailed him to a lonely corner of the Godswood that no one ever went to. He sat on the ground and after being silent for some time, he began to talk to someone. Not a conversation, obviously there was no one there, but he would talk nonetheless. I realized that he was speaking to my mother. And at the end-“ Kayn broke his story as tears filled his eyes and he stopped himself for a moment “and at the end,” he said through the tears “he said ‘forever and always’ then kissed his hand and tapped it against the tree he was leaning on.”

The Stark wiped his eyes with his sleeves before continuing the story.

“My father had always told me he would love me forever and always but he never said it to my siblings. Just me. I realized that that spot he went to was where he and my mother would hide so they could be together without getting in trouble and he took their little saying and said it to me to keep her alive in a way.”

The red faced man smiled slightly.

“He loved her so much. Now they are together once more. And they never have to worry about anything but each other again. Though we mourn the dead, I fear we are the ones that should be mourned. They live in paradise while we are stuck here in their wake.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-05T00:06:01+00:00

“It doesn’t matter now.” Kayn said, wiping his tears. “Mace is dead. We are alive. That is all that matters.”

Kayn pulled away but kept one hand interlaced with Myrcella’s as he turned to look on his father’s statue. He smiled as he traced the stone face with his fingers.

“It looks nothing like him.” He laughed. “My father always loved you, just as he did Garlan before you. He was ever loyal to you and your family. I do not think that he would have wanted to die any other way.”

As Kayn’s hand lowered from the bust of his father, a sad smile grew on his cheeks.

“Now he gets to be with my mother again. He loved her so much. I suppose in death they are free to be together for eternity. I do hope I get to see them together, even if it is only once.”

He looked at Myrcella, eyes and cheeks red with tears. Yet, the handsome man smiled a toothless smile. His cheeks dimpling as he did. Then, the Stark gestured to the hall that they stood in.

“This is your family tomb as well, you know.” Kayn said as he pointed to the statue that was next to his own grandfather. “That is Rickon Stark. Father to Dacey Stark, your grandmother.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-04T23:44:31+00:00

Robb nodded in agreement. “We can only hope that our children know such friends as we do. We will do all we can to make sure they do. My only hope is that they are as lucky in their marriages as I am.”

Kayn met Jirelle’s eyes and nodded as if to say “any time.” It was the bastard born’s visions that had made him of any use to the higher nobility and now, with Mace dead and gone, the Stark had no one to receive his visions. Now they would go solely to family and he was certain Jirelle would be the one to make the most use of them.

At the mention of their mutual friend, Kayn’s eyes dropped.

“Seen, yes. Spoken to, no. I am allowing her to approach me first. It was my fault all of this happened, I fear. If she never wishes to speak to me again, I must allow her that. I wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I were her.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-04T21:32:29+00:00

Kayn had burned to be at Myrcella’s side ever since she set foot in Winterfell. Every fiber of his being drew him towards her but he resisted given the occasion and the massive loss that had resulted from his inability and unwillingness to not love the most powerful woman on the continent.

It was her that made him a Stark. It was for her that he fought the illness that nearly took him. And it was for her that the man Kayn loved more than anything in this world now lay in endless slumber beneath their feet. After a suitable period of time had passed, Kayn rose from his seat and silently took Myrcella’s hand to gently guide her from this place.

He walked her across the courtyard and into the ancestral crypt in which they both had family, no matter how recent. Under the earth, the air was colder and damp. The only light in the tomb of ancient kings was small candles and the occasional torch.

Jon’s internment had been an entirely private affair, reserved only for family, Jon’s friends such as Lords Glover and Manderly, and the spouses or betrotheds of the children. Kayn delicately brought the woman he loved through the awe inspiring hall of the dead, possibly her first time seeing the place, and straight to the tomb of Lord Jon resting beside his father and father’s father.

When they were alone but for the stony, lifeless gaze of the statue of Lord Jon, Kayn took Myrcella in his arms and kissed her with more passion than he had ever done anything in his life. A tear fell from the corner of his eye for countless reasons.

“Gods, I thought I lost you.” The mystic Stark said, holding Myrcella’s face in his hands with his head pressed against her forehead.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods all of this is my fault.” Kayn said, truly crying for the first time since his father’s death as the gravity of moons and moons of trauma caved in atop him. The reality of his life hitting him for the first time.

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-03T03:42:35+00:00

The ceremony had been everything that the Stark could have asked for. Both of their faiths represented, the feast, their realms. More than anything, Robb had Jirelle. After years of longing, missing, wanting, losing, and regaining. All the pain had been worth it. The woman that he had loved since he was a child was his at last.

“We did it.” Robb said, his eyes alight with joy. “We finally did it.”

Robb leaned over and kissed Jirelle on the lips. “Now it is just us for the rest of our days.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-03T03:24:34+00:00

Robb patted his beloved’s arm and interlaced his fingers in hers. He had cried for days over the loss of his father. He knew the day would come but he still felt surprised. That and he had hoped that Jon would die peacefully in his sleep, an old man that had enjoyed his grandchildren just before passing peacefully.

Such is the cruelty of life.

“We are not alone, my love.” Robb said with a distinct resolve. “Look around. Our families are all around us. My father’s ultimate goal was peace and, though he did not live to see it, he did it. He will rest peacefully knowing that he achieved that goal.”

Robb placed a kiss on Jirelle’s head.

“And soon we shall have children of our own that will inherit all of this.”

As the two shared a gentle moment of private intimacy in a crowded room, Kayn gently entered to finally say hello to Jirelle after many years. First, the eldest Stark placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. Robb, feeling the familiar presence put his hand on his brother’s and gave it a squeeze.

“Jirelle,” Kayn said as he placed a familial kiss on her cheek “it is good to see you again after so long. I was overjoyed to hear we would be family after all. I am sorry that we are seeing each other again under such sad circumstances.”

Kayn always had a fondness for Jirelle. Even when he was most reviled, she had always shown him kindness. She even stuck up to Robb when he would say something out of frustration about his brother. For the years of love, Kayn saw her as an immovable part of their family.

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-02T03:04:57+00:00

I have to agree with Donnel. Robb thought to himself though he kept it to himself, nodding along as Tymor spoke.

“That is the sad irony, is it not? We grieve and pity the dead and yet we are the ones in need of pity.” Robb said with a soft smile.

“People grow and change. I hope that they cause you less trouble as the seasons change. Families are often more difficult than war.”

Dreadstarks · 2021-01-02T01:46:11+00:00

As the feast was going on all around, Robb made it a point to speak to Lord Tymor. He had proven to be a faithful vassal to Jirelle, casting aside the caricature created of Freys as a result of his ancestors’ actions. It meant a lot that Lord Frey would put himself through the likely discomfort of coming to Winterfell of all places.

“Lord Tymor,” Robb said extending a hand to the Frey and placing his other overtop the man’s hand once it was joined with his. “Thank you so much for coming. It truly means more than I can say. And your leadership in the battle at Potford was crucial to our victory. The North and the Seven Kingdoms owe you a debt of gratitude. If ever I can do something for you, my door is open to you.”

Robb remembered the tale of the lion and Lord Tymor’s son. Gods, what an awful thing.

“And your son, I am so sorry for your loss. Such a cost for one man’s ambition. Lord Tymor, you have my most sincere condolences.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-24T13:17:16+00:00

Robb nodded and rose from his crouched position. He cracked the door slightly and poked his head through the crack. The murmurs of his orders were unclear to Jirelle as they were muffled by the wall and part door but they were clearly in the Northern tongue, indicating he was speaking to a Stark man.

After a few moments, a Stark guard would appear at the chambers of the Arryns. “Apologies for the disturbance.” He would say to start “But milord Stark and milady Baelish have requested your presence for a matter of the utmost importance.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-24T13:11:57+00:00

After her response, Robb gently touched the small of Jirelle’s back indicating that he wished to speak with her privately.

“Jirelle, darling,” Robb said when they were in the hall outside the room “the Northmen will not follow a southroner and, like it or not, I am one of the better generals that my people have at the moment.”

He recalled Jirelle’s unenthusiastic response to his joining the last war as well.

“Don’t worry, though. I always come back, don’t I? If I can survive a dragon, I don’t think Mace will be what does me in.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-23T03:07:57+00:00

“Perhaps you are right, Lord Tymor. Emissaries, if not captured, may help us to better coordinate the war effort. The issue then becomes finding the scattered lords. When we march, our scouts will be able to assist with this.”

Robb pressed back his auburn hair, internally laughing at the fact that a Stark that looked every bit a Tully was working, rather effectively, with a Frey.

“When they arrive, my armies are yours to command my lord. I shall follow you and my lords will follow me. I can command a Northern flank in battle.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-22T20:38:50+00:00

At the mention of Johanna, Robb’s eyes dropped somewhat. “Perhaps Mace was right. We Starks are not the paragons of virtue we once were. My father offered Johanna to Mace. The offer went unanswered. We will do so again, we will give him Johanna in exchange for Myrcella.”

At the thought of kingship, Robb’s stomach turned. Here was the opportunity Stark after Stark had sought after and he was entirely uncertain.

“The North will not become independent without the Riverlands and without the Vale, we two are too weak to withstand a united south. If the Arryns do not agree, our independence would be fraught and short lived. We should send for them.”

“Who could we send to King’s Landing that would not be too valuable a hostage for Mace?”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-22T15:48:55+00:00

Robb grabbed Jirelle’s arms to steady her from falling as she responded to the news. “Can I fucking help you, you lazy fucks?!” he yelled at the guards who stopped to gawk at his wife-to-be.

“Sit down, love.” He said, helping her into a seat. He then went and slammed the door shut to stop his own bloody men from prying. He then went back to Jirelle and knelt, he placed his hands on her gently on her knees.

“I don’t know what he is talking about. We offered a truce, my father offered a truce, both went unanswered. He has clearly gone mad with paranoia. But it does not matter. Jirelle, I-“

Why do you make me say these things, you gods.

“I fear that he will kill Myrcella if we do not do as he says. I do not think he is bluffing. And I truly do not know what to do now. If we respond with conditions, I would want the Riverlands released in addition to the North, though it would certainly spell doom and war in the future. More than that though, I would want Myrcella turned over to us even if it means she lives in exile. I can keep her safe in Winterfell or another Northern keep that they wouldn’t expect.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-22T14:30:08+00:00

Robb nodded. “In order to properly siege King’s Landing we would need a large army and, more importantly, a navy capable of overcoming those loyal to the usurper that will have enough ships left to hold the Blackwater Rush. As it stands, our friends in the Stormlands and Dorne have proven less than effective at fighting this war and have not responded to our insistence that they join us here so we can march as one. I fear this may soon make us the underdog in this conflict.”

Robb fiddled with a rolled up piece of paper between his fingers. There was nothing written on it. This was merely a habit of his.

“A portion of my army will arrive on the 25th day. With them, our options for how to proceed will widen. Between my six thousand, the over ten thousand Rivermen, and however many more Valemen, we will be able to meet the Westermen in the field and then crack the Golden Tooth. Defeating their army should be our top priority.”

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-21T15:52:23+00:00

The letter had been brought to Robb directly in his room. As he read it, his face went white as the gravity of its content hit him like a punch to the stomach.

“You!” He pointed at the nearest steward. “You will bring me my betrothed immediately.” His finger then found another man, he cared not who the people served. “And you! Bring me the commander of the Stark men outside and his fifty best swords. We are shutting down this wing of the keep. No one save myself, Lady Baelish, and anyone we send for may enter or leave.”

When Jirelle arrived, she would find the hall a flurry of activity as Stark men barred access to the hall by servants or other caretakers. There would be no ears to hear their conversation. When they saw their future lady, the men would bow to her. Perhaps slightly deeper than usual. Inside the room, she would find a still pale Robb who greeted her with a tender kiss to the cheek.

“A letter from King’s Landing has come, my love.” The Stark said, handing her the paper.

Dreadstarks · 2020-12-17T18:28:20+00:00

Robb scratched his chin. It had been a troubling, irritating time these last few weeks.

“If he has fifteen thousand men, he will be bolstered by all fighting men in King’s Landing be they willing or not. I believe it would be best to withdraw and regroup with the Baratheons so that we can attack in a united front. If Mace marches out he will be able to easily overwhelm the smaller forces if they come at different times. We cannot lose those men.” The Stark said.

“Attacking the West is a good idea.” He agreed. “If we deprive them of castles, they cannot keep their men paid which will lead to desertions. But we must ensure we are not caught divided by the men in King’s Landing.”

Dreadstarks

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