A private audience with Lord Stark

[House Dustin]

Lord Mors Dustin requests a private audience with his liege lord.

[The Smith]

An appointment is scheduled in Lord Stark's library for several hours later that day.

When Dustin arrives he finds the door open, and Benjen Stark leaning against the wall staring out at the Ironborn camp through an open window.

[House Dustin]

Lord Dustin enters the room and follows his gaze through the window. "Momentous times, my Lord Stark."

[The Smith]

He did not turn, "Perhaps. I hope not, but it seems like that may be our curse."

[House Dustin]

Mors grimaced. "I know not the situation throughout the North and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. I have kept, perhaps too much, to my own lands"

[The Smith]

"Have you seen a pack of wolves surrond a stag?" He asked, and then turned to face Dustin, "The Stag tries to react as each wolf leaps in from a new direction, striking at a different weakness in the bast." He rubbed his eyes, "I wish in that metaphor we were the wolves, as should be."

[House Dustin]

"Instead you feel the stag." Mors replied evenly.

[The Smith]

"Something stirs in the North. The Lions, and the Royces plot to make an example of us to move Dorne into line." Stark frowned, and grumbled, "Lions."

[House Dustin]

"And what would the Ironmen gain by helping us against Lions?" Mors realized he might have misspoke. "Other than your fair sister, I mean."

[The Smith]

Benjen turned and growled, "Is that what they are whispering about me? That I have sold my sister for some iron blades."

[House Dustin]

"Unfair though it may be, noble women are so often the currency of diplomacy," Mors replied. "I do not mean to offend, but the marriage of Stark to Greyjoy seems to represent some kind of pact to some purpose." His expression softened along with his voice, "As unpalatable as it is, I brought my daughters here hoping to further my house's aims, and by extension, your aims through marriage contract-- even considering if I should offer one of them to these men of the Iron Islands as my own lord did..."

[The Smith]

"They call me a fucking pimp." Benjen growled, and his fists clenched, "I would not walk down the path I did if the thanks I get are slurs, and scorn."

[House Dustin]

Mors frowned. "I believe that simply is not so, Lord Stark. Your banners are loyal and I hear no scorn among them... Just curiosity. I can speak for myself at least, in that I have wondered only so that I may serve you adequately."

[The Smith]

"Its the Lions." His hands clenched, and her looked out the window, "And their allies. If that war comes, we will need any foolish enough to side with us. And a navy, for as long as Moat Cailin stands no man can march north."

[House Dustin]

Mors started, "Lord Stark, I should explain my purpose in meeting with you. I..." He snorted out a laugh despite himself. "I shouldn't make light, but it seems I was a fool. My original purpose in meeting was, at best, misdirected." He worked to control his mirth, "You see, I'd considered a trade route to the West, or maybe to the Reach... Wine from the Arbor mayhap. Ships up the river to Barrowton and then along the Kingsroad north. I had thought with the Ironborn perhaps feeling more... Amicable towards us, that we could secure safe trade to the west. I did not realize the West was troubling us so... Are the Reachmen the lackeys of lions they are made out to be?"