WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐈𝐈. banners

𝟐𝟖𝟐 𝐀𝐂

The days on the Mountains of the Moon stretched relentlessly. Anrir and Eddard hardly slept at all, every time the horses needed a break Anrir sank to the ground, overtired and with aching muscles, while Eddard ran around restlessly, trying to kill rabbits and birds with bow and arrow. Anrir just wanted to sleep, but when he saw the frustrated Ned struggling with the arrows, he got up to take the bow from him and do the hunting himself. They always ate in silence.

The fingers drew closer and closer and by now they were forgoing a break altogether, even if the horses made it clear that they could do with one. Anrir felt sorry for his horse, which was becoming more and more unruly with each passing hour. Anrir wanted to ask for a break, but they could clearly see the coastline of the Fingers by now and when they tied the horses up at an inn, he was relieved for the two animals.

"We should ask a fisherman... That's the least conspicuous way," Anrir murmured to Eddard, who was walking beside him. "Yes," Ned said curtly and headed for the harbor. With Ned's gold, it didn't take them long to find a toothless fisherman who would take them to the White Harbor. His ship stank like hell, but there was enough room for Anrir, Ned and even the fisherman's daughter; a dark-haired girl with full breasts and boyish clothes who reminded Anrir a little of Lyanna. His heart ached at the thought of her. He hoped she was well, wherever she was. He hoped that Rhaegar Targaryen was a good man and treated her better than his wife.

Even during the sea voyage, Ned was silent and Anrir sat in the back of the fishing boat most of the time, staring into the clouds that approached them menacingly like a dark wall.

The storm gripped them in the bite.

It tossed the fishing boat around like an impetuous child tossing an unloved toy. Water broke onto the deck and Anrir was soon soaking wet, water running down his face and making it difficult to see as he fought his way across the boat to the steering wheel. He had to cling to the railing, otherwise he would have been thrown off the boat for sure. The toothless fisherman shouted something at him that was drowned out by the thunder of the storm. As Anrir reached him, a wave hit them and swept them both off the ship. The sea engulfed him and took his breath away, he felt his heavy clothes and beast at his belt dragging him down. But he dared not free himself from the weight. Even though the sea was wild, Anrir was able to resist its grip, looking around underwater for the fisherman with his eyes wide open. But the sea was a black hole beneath him and the brighter spot above him seemed to recede further and further into the distance. With strong strokes and ignoring the pain in his muscles, he struggled up and broke through the surface, gasping. Rain pelted down on him and for a moment he feared that the boat had disappeared, drowned while he had been struggling in the water.

Then someone grabbed him by the shoulders and he was pulled onto the wet wooden deck of the boat. He fell against Ned, who had pulled him out of the water, and for a moment they lay on top of each other on the rocking boat. There was a gleam of fear in Ned's gray eyes. "The fisherman has drowned," Anrir gasped, water dripping from his entire body onto Ned lying beneath him. Anrir understood the fear in his eyes. They would drown and never reach Winterfell. His father's and Rob's plans would fail without the support.

Anrir was about to say something, but then Ned pushed him away and scrambled to his feet, staring to the wheel. There stood the fisherman's daughter, shouting orders to Ned, which he immediately carried out. He caught up the sails and Anrir gradually felt themselves becoming masters of the storm.

They reached the three sisters soaking wet and even Ned shivered. Their eyes were bloodshot and they probably all looked dead tired. Ned said goodbye to the fisherman's daughter, who quickly left the sisters again. "We need a break," murmured Anrir, brushing his wet hair out of his face. "We need a way from here to Winterfell. We need to get to the White Harbor." "Ned... Please. We're both soaking wet and frozen, we haven't slept in days. We can't talk if we can't even keep our eyes open!" Anrir replied with difficulty. Ned stared at him as if he was getting angry. After Ned's emotional outburst days ago, his friend had lapsed back into emotionless silence and he was worried for him.

Suddenly voices tore them from their haunting eye contact. "Eddard Stark, Anrir Arryn?" a guard in the gray-green and white of House Borrel, flanked by two identically dressed men, stood before them. "Lord Borell wishes to speak with you." Ned straightened his shoulders and they exchanged a quick glance. What choice did they have but to come along?

They crossed Sisterton and headed for the castle of House Borrel. Anrir was seething with rage. He knew that House Borrel was subject to the Arryns and the lack of respect they showed only increased his tension. They had called him Arryn, which showed that they recognized him as a scion of their High Lord, even if that was not his true name. So they should actually be more humble and directly helpful. The fact that they didn't let Anrir's thoughts drift to his father. What if something had happened to him? Then Anrir would be Lord of the eyrie. He swallowed hard.

Lord Borrel was waiting for them in the great hall of his family seat. He looked like a nervous and insecure man to Anrir, sweat was on his forehead and he was whispering with his maester.  "Lord Borrel," Anrir raised his voice, and though he probably looked like a drowned cat, he lifted his chin and took a more confident stance, his hand resting on the hilt of Beast. The light from the candles in the hall reflected on the Arryn's falcon, which was made of metal beaten onto the leather of his traveling armor. "I am Anrir Riverfall, the declared heir of Lord Jon Arryn of the eyrie, Warden of the East. The sisters are subject to House Arryn and therefore to me and my high father. Lord Stark and I must go to White Harbor. Grant us passage or I will see this as treason against my house." He drummed his index and middle fingers on the hilt of his sword.

Lord Borrel's response was only more sweating. His maester whispered something in his ear again, but this time Anrir understood; The King wanted their heads. The lord rubbed his mouth, wiping his hand on his shirt. "Your High Father and Robert Baratheon have taken Gulltown," the lord finally said to Anrir. A weight fell from his shoulders with the fear that his father was dead. "Then let us go. Houses Arryn, Stark and Baratheon will not emerge from this conflict as losers," Anrir replied as firmly and confidently as he could, for he had already realized that this was the lord's fear. He did not want to be on the losing side.

Uncomfortable, Lord Borrel shifted in his seat, seeming helpless under Anrir's gaze. His maester leaned towards him again, but the lord sent him away with a gruff wave of his hand. "Fine, I'll let you go to White Harbor. But I ask you to keep quiet about your stay here... Out of gratitude."

Anrir stifled a snort, but bowed his head in thanks and approval. The guards took them out of the castle to the harbor. There they were given a small ship in which a sailor from the sisters would take him to the White Harbor. Only when they were sitting below deck among barrels and crates did Anrir dare to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you..." Ned began softly, reaching for his hand in the twilight and squeezing it gently. Anrir leaned against him and closed his eyes briefly, having to force himself to open them again. He was terribly tired. "I was afraid that something might have happened to my father and Rob while we were out... I thought they'd hand us over to the mad king now." "You made a pretty impressive show... That's probably why they didn't dare," Ned said in an almost pained tone and kissed the back of Anrir's hand. Anrir wanted to be angry that Ned was suddenly so close to him again after all the ignoring and rejection, without apologizing. But he also knew what kind of situation Ned was in, could only imagine how great the burden on his shoulders must be. So he returned Ned's slight smile and stayed quietly leaning against him, listening to his breathing and the sound of the waves until they reached White Harbour.

From now on, Anrir stood in the background. He had done his duty and accompanied Ned here. In Winterfell, where Ned was gathering his army of Northmen, he had taken part in the discussions between Ned and the heads of the houses under his command, but only as a representative of House Arryn and to ensure that the Starks and the Northmen did not go into battle alone.

Winterfell felt completely foreign to him, no longer like the second home he had found here each winter and associated with warmth and friendship now that it was so filled with belligerent Northmen. And so Anrir was grateful when they moved on, to join Lord Tully halfway to stoney Sept. Anrir rode beside Ned and turned only once back to Winterfell, but he could only see the army of the North.