Chapter 2: Chapter 2
As they trudged through the forest, Benjamin took in the harsh and unforgiving Northern environment. The cold seeped into his bones, and the terrain was rough and unyielding. He realized he was far from home, in a place where survival was a daily struggle.
The scouts kept their distance, wary of him after the earlier confrontation. However, a younger scout named Jonar couldn't contain his curiosity.
"Your clothes," Jonar said hesitantly, "they're unlike anything I've seen. And your accent... where are you from?"
"Far away," Benjamin replied, his answers vague and guarded. He didn't want to reveal too much until he understood more about his situation.
Jonar nodded, not entirely satisfied but sensing Benjamin's reluctance to share more. "You'll want to be careful with those answers when we get to Winterfell," he advised. "He may be merciful, but Lord Stark doesn't take kindly to mysteries."
Benjamin grunted in response, focusing on the path ahead. The forest gave way to open fields, and in the distance, the towering walls of Winterfell began to emerge.
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After a grueling journey, they arrived at Winterfell, the seat of House Stark. The ancient castle loomed before them, its walls sturdy and weather-worn. People stopped and stared as Benjamin was led through the courtyard, their whispers following him.
"Who's that?" a young stable boy asked, wide-eyed.
"Some stranger Roderick found on the shores," an older woman replied, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Looks like trouble."
Roderick and his men took Benjamin to the Great Hall, where Eddard Stark awaited. The lord of Winterfell was a stern and pragmatic man, his presence commanding respect. He studied Benjamin with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
In the Great Hall, Benjamin faced Eddard Stark. The lord questioned him about his origins and intentions, but Benjamin's answers were met with skepticism.
"I'm a soldier," Benjamin explained, avoiding the full truth. "I ended up here by mistake. Just trying to find my way."
Eddard's expression remained unreadable. "Your story is hard to believe, I don't know what an 'America' is," he said. "But your strength and skills are undeniable. For now, you will remain under watch until we can determine the truth of your words."
Benjamin's jaw tightened. "You think you can just lock me up? I'm not some common criminal. I fought for my country, damn it."
Roderick, standing beside Eddard, gave Benjamin a hard look. "You'll watch your tone when speaking to Lord Stark."
Benjamin snorted, his arrogance flaring. "I don't care who he is. I gave you the courtesy of feeling secure, when in reality... I could burn this fairy dress-up castle to the ground... " Ned Stark narrowed his eyes at that threat, Roderick was about ready to strike him down. But Lord Stark promptly gestured him to stop.
America's son balled his fist, knuckles turning white, and said "I need answers, and I need them now."
Eddard's eyes narrowed slightly. "You are in the North now, Benjamin Gilman, and you will follow our rules. Prove you mean no harm, and perhaps you'll get the answers you seek."
"Prove myself?" Benjamin laughed bitterly. "I saved your men from a beating they deserved for attacking me without cause. What more do you want?"
Eddard remained calm, his voice steady. "What I want is the truth. You will stay here under guard until I am convinced of your intentions. That is final."
"Lord Stark," Roderick interjected, "his abilities are unlike anything I've seen. He could be an asset if he proves trustworthy."
Eddard nodded slowly. "We shall see. Benjamin Gilman, you will stay here under guard. Any attempt to escape will be met with harsh consequences. Do you understand?"
Benjamin met Eddard's gaze, defiance burning in his eyes. "I understand. But don't expect me to just sit quietly and play nice."
Benjamin was shown to a modest room where he was to stay under guard. He looked out the small window at the unfamiliar world outside, contemplating his next move. The cold and isolation of the North pressed in on him, but he was determined to survive and find a way back to his world.
As he lay down on the hard cot, his thoughts raced. 'Commie bastards,' He had faced countless challenges before, but this was unlike any he had ever encountered. I mean, he was a propagandist dickbag. He knew it, everyone else also did. What did he do to deserve this?
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