Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Summer was coming.

Ned could taste it on the breeze as he walked along Winterfell’s inner battlements. The air smelled more earthy and the ground had begun to thaw. The golden light of the rising sun glittered across the snowcapped roofs of every building for miles around. Though there was less than there had been a month before. And even less than the month before that. The snows were beginning to recede and life was returning to the land again. Ned could see the smoke from thousands of chimneys rising from the Winter City, their windows alive with light.

Running his hand along the thin layer of snow that covered the crenels and merlons of the battlements, Ned gathered some into his fist. He’d always loved the feeling of fresh snow. It was cool and soft to the touch and it always brought back memories of Ned’s youth. In his minds eye, he could still picture himself with his siblings throwing snowballs at each other in the Godswood, laughing as only carefree children could. One memory morphed into another as Ned’s thoughts turned to his own children playing in the Godswood as he had. Their laugher was sweeter than a summer song.

Today was a special day for Ned, as it was one of the few days of the year he wasn’t the Stark of Starks. Eventually Robb would be King, and it would only do him good to have experience in that area before he sat the Winter throne. To that end, every now and then, Ned would give up his duties for a day and let Robb rule in his stead. Of course he still had Benjen as Grand Marshall, who in turn would give up his position to Jon on a different day. If an important matter were to arise, then this training would be halted and Ned would come back into his position to handle it.

Thankfully such an event had not happened yet.

This lead Ned to having a day free of responsibility for a change. At first he had liked it less than he thought he would, but he had grown to enjoy it in time. Ned had found himself spending more and more time with his resurrected mother and father. Making up for the time they had been robbed of. He found himself learning more of his parents than he ever had as a child. Ned and his mother shared a number of interests, especially related to warging as she also held the gift. Lyarra Stark had seemed very proud when he had told her just how many of his children had received the gift from the Old Gods. Ned had also found that he was much more like his father than he had imagined. Many mannerisms were shared between them. Even the way they sat a chair was the same.

It had warmed Ned’s heart to no end to see what his parents thought of their grandchildren and the growing number of great grandchildren. It was also somewhat strange for Ned to have a new sibling after so long. Little Lysenna was barely a year old and already as wilful and unruly as her pup. More than once Ned had walked in on his mother in fits of laughter watching her baby daughter trying to climb onto the back of her pup to ride it around. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

Of course Lysenna was not the only new babe in Winterfell, his children had borne more children of their own. The latest had been from Arya, a screaming little black-haired babe that had certainly inherited his mother’s lungs. The memory of Arya and Alyrianne coming down to the family dining hall on the morning of their nineteenth nameday and informing everyone that they had married Gendry the night before still made him chuckle.

Robert’s bastard son had grown into a man his father would have been proud of, Ned hoped. He had been taken under Dorrk’s wing and learned how to be a Forgemaster. The lad had taken to it quite well, forging many a fine work saturated with magical power. Even so, his wives’ reactions to the news had not been graceful, but they certainly had been entertaining.

Upon reflection and some words from Ned, they had eventually calmed and accepted the marriage. Of course, Gendry had spent the next sennight creeping from shadow to shadow lest he be accosted by his new family members making sure his intentions were pure. Lyanna had even made him go to the stables and watch as a horse was gelded. Alas that had not stopped him from putting a babe in Arya’s belly, then Alyrianne’s, then Arya’s again.

Ned marvelled at how time had flown by so fast.

Even Rickon whom Ned could have sworn was a babe in arms not last week had passed his seventeenth nameday. Even more shocking was the fact that the red-haired youth stood taller than Brandon. It was the first time Ned had found himself having to look up to meet his child’s gaze. His pack was growing large indeed. Yet there was a shadow in his thoughts. The Red Woman had brought his fallen family back to him because she had seen a great danger in their future and the Starks needed to be stronger.

Unhelpfully, she had not specified when that danger might come.

It was a sword that hung over Ned’s happiness, sometimes more keenly felt than others. When Stannis had declared war on the Lannisters some moons past, Ned had thought it a sign of things to come and shored up the defences of his kingdoms, sending men and dragonriders to the south.

Yet neither Stannis, nor Tommen beneath the Rock had made a move against them. Stannis had seemed more than content to advance through the Reach and from there to Casterly Rock.

If the reports were accurate, Stannis had earned a fair few victories against smaller forces sent by the Lannisters and Tyrells, taking a few fortresses along the boarder. But there had yet to be any full-scale battles. Ned knew Stannis to be one of the finest military minds in all the realm, he wouldn’t be too surprised if he eventually won his war.

Then he would set his sights on us, Ned thought, grimly.

The winter had been a hard one and the food stores of the North were running low. It would see them into the Summer but after that they needed to be farming again, not fighting wars. Thankfully the food from the Riverlands and Vale helped, yet if war broke out, it would be the Riverlands that were hit first. As it always was.

Ned decided not to indulge in the more worrisome parts of his mind and continued to wander on his way. Walking Winterfell’s battlements was calming. He could look down on the peoples of Winterfell and the Winter City as they went about their days. Sometimes Ned wondered who they were and what they were doing.

It gave him perspective.

Everyone had their own lives separate from his own, with their own hopes and dreams and grievances. Ned could see them all on top of Winterfell’s high walls.

At measured intervals, he would pass guards as they patrolled the walls in groups of two or three. Each time they would move aside and bow to Ned in reverence. Ned would, in turn, stop and ask them how they were, how their families were and so forth.

His father had drilled it into Ned’s head at an early age that a lord must know the people they rule over and they must be known by them in turn. It was a long-held tradition of house Stark, and Ned reasoned it was probably one of the reasons they were so well-loved by their people.

Ned was walking around one of the walls of the Godswood when he came across one of the Captains of the Ice Guard, a man named Donnel Cassel. Ned couldn’t quite remember if he was a cousin, or a second-cousin to Jory. It made little difference as they talked of Donnel’s oldest son, a boy of ten, and how it had been recently discovered that he was a warg. Apparently they’d caught him riding the family hunting-hound as if it was a horse. The image made Ned laugh as he congratulated the Ice Guard for his son’s gift.

“The Gods have been kind to us, your grace.” Donnel thanked him. “Though it’s not too surprising as i’m half Child of the Forest myself.”

“Perhaps your other two children will turn out to be wargs too?” Ned chuckled.

Donnel made an exasperated sound. “I think one’s enough trouble for us to handle for now. I’ve no idea how you handle all of your many children having the gift.”

“It can be a challenge, to be sure.” Ned responded. “I wonder if any other Stark has had as many warg children?”

Donnel gestured to Winterfell’s great library, not too far away from the rampart they were strolling along. “Chances are you’ll find the answer there, your grace.”

Ned inclined his head ponderously and decided he had nothing better to do, so he might as well avail himself of the vast records kept in the Stark library. He bid Donnel farewell and made his way to the mighty round, domed structure where the Starks kept their books.

The library had over a dozen floors, each housing large open chambers filled with bookcases and stacks upon stacks of books. But for the few Druids in the lower floors, the library was mostly deserted. Ned walked his way up the wide, oaken spiral staircase that would take him to the Stark’s personal collection in the library, where few others were allowed.

When he reached the top, Ned saw he would not be alone there. Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower were sitting together, pouring over books on the histories of the Seven Kingdoms. Most likely, the histories of what had happened in their future.

After that fateful night where Ned had been gifted a chance to bed Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Old Goddess Freya had visited the three of them in a dream and explained why both Rhaenyra and Alicent had been brought to Ned’s time. She had told them that she’d enjoyed the show Ned and Rhaenyra had given her so much that she wanted to see it again. She also confessed to wanting to see Ned dominating the Princess and the Queen together, much to Alicent’s shock as she had no idea what was happening.

Freya had then explained the future that awaited the pair of women, and that they could avoid it by staying with Ned. Identical copies of the both of them would stay in their original time and live their lives as they should have, so Ned would not have to deal with unexpected changes in his time.

Unsurprisingly, the sudden rush of new information was a great shock to both Alicent and Rhaenyra. Ned had given them both time to acclimatise to their new and bizarre situation.

Before the moon had turned, Ned had found the two women fucking each other silly in Winterfell’s Sept. It certainly seemed they both had a lot of sexual tension to work out. Which they had both been putting a lot of effort into excising.

Seemingly to little effect.

“I hope i’m not interrupting you two ladies.” Ned stated as he walked into the chambers.

Rhaenyra and Alicent both looked up from their book to him, Alicent blushed while Rhaenyra gave him a sultry smile. “You’re free to interrupt us anytime, Ned.”

“Anything interesting?” Ned asked as he made his way to the table where the two women sat.

“Ooh, for a certainty.” The silver-haired vixen cooed, leaning forward so her very generous bosom was emphasised all the more. Her cleavage was a dark and infinite abyss that would swallow a man whole. Ned believed there wasn’t a man who wouldn’t relish the opportunity to dive in.

“Nothing you would care to read, I’m sure.” Alicent cleared her throat and shut the book, a red flush creeping up her cheeks.

It astounded Ned how a woman so wanton in bed could be so prudish out of it. He had filled her cunt with his seed as the woman had licked his seed from Rhaenyra’s arsehole. Yet when they weren’t abed, she acted as if she were a Septa, much to Rhaenyra’s annoyance. The Targaryen gave a wide grin, taking the book from Alicent’s grasp and opening it wide.

“I’m sure our dear Ned would love to hear of how his ancestor Alaric Stark fucked Good Queen Alysanne on this very table.” She giggled, giving Ned a look that made him want to bend her over and use her cunt until she was a sobbing mess.

“As I recall, it was more than just the table.” He answered.

“Oh yes. They fucked on the wall, that bookcase, the chairs, the floor…” Rhaenyra listed gleefully, her eyes on Alicent as the woman slowly grew redder and redder. “In fact, I don’t imagine there’s a single surface in this library they did not defile together.”

“Must you always do this?” Alicent hissed under her breath, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “You talk of sin as if it were nothing. Queen Alysanne was a married woman.”

“You seemed to enjoy the ‘sinning’ we did last night.” Rhaenyra snarked, pulling Alicent closer to her. The two women were so close they could nearly touch noses. Alicent could only look aside as her response, bitting her bottom lip as her cheeks went as red as her hair.

Without warning, Rhaenyra pulled the other woman into a passionate embrace, their lips locking together in adoration. Ned was unsurprised as he watched the two women quickly fall further into a pit of passion as their tongues writhed together and their hands fumbled at the clasps of their dresses. He could have sworn he heard Alicent mewling between kisses as Rhaenyra worked a hand under her dress.

“Perhaps I should leave you women to it.” He chuckled.

“Don’t you dare.” Rhaenyra quickly responded, her violet eyes dark and hazy, with Alicent laying kisses along her bountiful bosom, half out of her dress.

“Then convince me to stay.” Ned grinned, unlacing his breeches letting them drop to his ankles and freeing his rapidly hardening cock. Rhaenya’s eyes shone when she saw it standing proudly to attention for her, she rose to her feet, taking Alicent with her so they could both properly divest themselves of their clothes as Ned did the same. Alicent saw Ned’s cock was out and the look passed over her face. The same look she’d had when she saw it for the first time: surprise, confusion, a little bit of fear and a large amount of desire.

Seeing the pious woman stripping bare before him sent a thrum to Ned’s cock. Rhaenyra was as short, fleshy and gorgeous as he remembered. The woman was a Valyrian Goddess of lovemaking. While Alicent did not quite match Rhaenyra in form or beauty, she certainly still had a womanly figure and a beauty of her own.

Seeing both beautiful women bare before him, Ned knew why it was their natural state to be nude. It was a crime against Gods and men that such women should be covered. Their forms were meant to be appreciated. And appreciate their forms, Ned did. Especially when Rhaenyra turned around and began to shake her prodigious behind in a Dornish dance. The immense, pale globes of her arse clapped and wobbled as she bent her knees and shook her hips from side to side. In answer Alicent scoffed and crossed her arms, yet Ned could see her eyes never left Rhaenyra’s shaking arse.

Ned reached out and smacked the Targaryen’s arse hard.

“Yes, daddy…” She moaned and gasped at the strike, but kept shaking her arse for him. “Beat me. I’ve been a bad whore.”

Ned did as he was told. He struck her arse again.

And again.

“Be a good girl and suck his cock, would you?” Rhaenyra asked Alicent as she moaned between strikes.

Ned looked to the former queen, his cock hard and bobbing in the air. The Hightower woman locked eyes with Ned, then slowly sank to her knees, her large breasts shifting pleasantly as her knees hit the floor. A small hand reached out, taking him by the root. Her eyes looked up at his throbbing shaft with reverence and awe. Then she steeled herself, swallowed hard and leaned forward to place a kiss on his cock head.

Ned groaned in pleasure as he felt Alicent’s mouth on his shaft. One had was on Rhaenyra’s hip as she bounced her arse for him, while the other rested on Alicent’s dark red curls. The former queen lovingly laid kisses and licks along Ned’s shaft, the warm sensations rippling through his body. She moaned and groaned as she suckled on his cock, her tongue teasing him with sinful pleasures.

“Gods your cock is enormous, and perfect.” Alicent moaned between fervent kisses. She lavished him with her tongue, licking along his length then swirling her tongue around his cock-head as it weeped pre-seed. The former queen was making love to Ned’s cock with her tongue, almost as if in a trance. She was enraptured by his shaft, and treated it accordingly.

Rhaenyra laughed at the spectacle, still shaking her arse. “Suck that cock, whore! It’s what you were born to do.”

Alicent pulled her mouth away from Ned, though her hands kept pumping him. “Whore am I?” She asked, her voice high and angry. She quickly pulled the shorter woman to the floor and forced her mouth around Ned’s member.

In less than a moment, she went from no cock, to two thirds of Ned’s cock being buried down her throat. Rhaenyra struggled and gagged, but Alicent held firm. It seemed Rhaenyra had found Alicent’s more dominant side.

“Now who’s the whore, bitch!” Alicent said, pushing Rhaenyra deeper onto Ned’s cock. The debauched sounds of the Targaryen princess choking on his shaft were maddening, and the feeling of it was even worse.

Ned was near undone in that moment but he held firm.

Rhaenyra’s eyes rolled back into her head as Ned plowed the tight, wet and warm embrace of her throat. He skull-fucked Rhaenyra Targaryen hard and fast, with Alicent pushing her head down onto his shaft to meet the thrusts of his hips. She drooled and gargled as obscene noises rumbled from her throat and she tried to breathe around him.

“That’s rich, you calling me a whore.” Alicent seethed into Rhaenyra’s ear as Ned fucked her throat. “You lost your maidenhead in a brothel! You sucked dozens of cocks and probably fucked them too! The Princess of the Seven Kingdoms getting taken in a brothel! Then you went back to your bed and got fucked all over again by Ned.”

One of her hands was beginning to work its way to the crux of Rhaenyra’s thighs, while the other smacked her arse repeatedly. She no longer needed to hold the Targaryen’s head down.

Ned was nearly seeing stars as his balls were slamming into her chin. He fucked her hard and fast, chasing his end and the pleasure it would bring. Between the bouts of verbal abuse, Alicent would latch her lips onto Ned’s swinging balls and attend them as Rhaenyra could not. Feeling the mouths of both the Princess and the Queen on him nearly made an end of Ned right there, yet he ploughed on.

He withdrew of Rhaenyra’s throat to place her on one side of his shaft and Alicent on the other. Sawing his cock between their sucking mouths was divine. Ned’s cock was sandwiched between them as they worked together to pleasure him. He would fuck Alicent’s throat, then Rhaenyra’s then Alicent again. His manhood was shiny with the combined spit of the two women as he moved between them.

Soon enough, the pressure built to breaking point and a tidal wave of his seed filled Rhaenyra’s throat. Her lips were kissing the base of his shaft as rope after rope of his essence was shot into her stomach. He held her there for an age before Alicent pulled her off him.

“Share some, bitch!” She grunted, pulling Rhaenyra into a gasping, open-mouthed kiss, forcing Ned’s seed from her mouth. The sight was a debauched dream come to life. From the twitching of his cock, Ned knew it was far from over.

“Oh Gods! Oh fuck! Use me! BREAK ME!” Rhaenyra squealed as Ned rammed into her without mercy or restraint.

The Targaryen woman lay face-down on the old oaken table as Ned used her body for his pleasure. She was so short her legs didn’t even reach the floor. They just dangled helplessly, quivering under the constant barrage of pleasure, her toes barely scraping the floorboards. Rhaenyra’s giant, pale, pillowy arse was pressing up against him, bouncing erotically against his hips as he slammed into her.

The loud claps of his flesh on hers filled the room, almost drowning out her screams of pleasure. The Realm’s Delight was pinned down on the table and being plowed like fertile soil. She had not the strength to raise her head from the wood, so she rested on the table’s surface, moaning hoarsely and begging for more. Her silver and gold locks stuck to her back with sweat.

Unsurprisingly, her breasts were so large Ned could still see them even when she had her back to him. Being pressed between the table and her torso had forced them to the side, providing a wonderful view from above as Ned fucked her sopping cunt. Her soaking, silky walls gripped him tighter than a Giant’s fist, massaging his shaft and begging for more of him. It never failed to send a thrum right to Ned’s cock to see the Targaryen Princess shivering and quivering on his manhood.

Meanwhile Alicent was underneath them, getting slapped in the face by Ned’s ballsack every time he filled Rhaenyra with his shaft. She eagerly lapped away at Rhaenyra’s cunt as she was used, dining on Ned’s pleasure and Rhaenyra’s as it leaked from her cunt. Her own hands either played her breasts, tweaking her large rosy nipples, or diddled her cunt madly. Both women were a wanton mess of pleasure and lust.

And Ned was happy to enjoy them.

“Who owns this cunt?” Ned grunted, eyes fixed to the wobbling arse-meat in front of him as he fucked her savagely. Rhaenyra either didnt hear him, or her mind was so overrun with pleasure that she could not form the words to answer. He reached out and yanked her head up by her hair and asked again.

“Who? Owns? This? Cunt?!” Every word was punctuated by a hard smack on Rhaenyra’s arse, making her shiver and cry out in pleasure and pain. Though it seemingly brought focus as well.

“You do!” She howled. “You own my cunt! Fill me! Breed me! I’m your whore!”

With her falsetto confession, Rhaenyra was brought to another rapturous end. Her words lost coherence and meaning and became one long string of syllables. Her cunt began to quiver and shift as a tidal wave of her pleasure bathed Ned’s cock and showered Alicent’s face below them.

“GODDDSSSS! FUUUUUUCK!” She could only whine as Ned kept pumping into her at maddening speed, not caring for the waves of pleasure that were racking her body from head to toe. Ned was chasing his own end. He found it ramming into the sloppy, fleshy cunt of his personal Targaryen whore.

With a deep grunt and one last savage thrust forward, Ned began to paint Rhaenyra’s cunt as white as her hair. He held himself there for an age, every inch of his cock buried the whole way in her cunt. She twitched and mumbled as the last ropes of his seed spurted deep into her cunt, moaning weakly about how Ned was going to breed an army of dragon riders from her womb.

When Ned finally withdrew, a waterfall of his seed spilled from Rhaenyra’s cunt, falling into the waiting and open mouth of Alicent Hightower, who swallowed it eagerly.

“There’s a good whore.” Ned grunted, bringing his hand down on Rhaenyra’s shaking body. Her arse covered in red handprints, quivering delectably as it hung over Alicent’s face. Ned took his still-hard shaft in hand and slapped it on the Hightower woman’s face a few times. The wet plats made for a salacious addition to the sounds of the three of them panting from their pleasure.

Ned’s cock didn’t hang loosely for long, Alicent’s diligent lips latched onto it and began to suck. She wanted the last few drops of his seed she could get. Her large, hazel orbs looked up at him as she worked his cock, her hands on her knees.

As Rhaenyra was still out of it, Ned enjoyed Alicent’s sucking for a time, placing his hand in her hair and guiding her up and down his length. Eventually Ned grew impatient and lifted her off his cock. “Time to put the Queen on her back.”

Alicent only giggled, a flush rising on her cheeks as Ned lay her down next to Rhaenyra. She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, then parted her ample thighs for him, exposing her soaking cunt.

“You lustful brute.” She licked her lips as she eyed his cock. “You only care about one thing, don’t you?”

Ned gave a wolfish grin and dragged his shaft along the inside of her thighs. Every stroke sent a quiver along her cunt. Each touch drew a stifled gasp and moan from her mouth.

“And what might that be?” Ned teased, lining up his cock and pressing it home, one inch at a time. Alicent’s large breasts rose and fell as her breathing quickened at the feeling of her walls being pushed apart by the invader.

“My fu-ugh!-cking cunt, you big dumb dog…” Was her answer, a deep whine as Ned eased her legs further apart and pushed deeper in. In moments Ned was burying the whole length of his cock inside Alicent Hightower.

One of her hands was on her own breast, tweaking her nipples as her other took a firm gasp of Rhaenyra’s arse. Ned knew she was acclimatised to taking his cock, so he withdrew half his length, then slammed it home again.

“Ugh! Fuck!” The jolt of pleasure sent a wave of convulsions through Alicent’s body. Ned watched gleefully as they shook her breasts and felt the intense sensations of her cunt massaging his manhood.

“Oh Gods! Oh fuck! Please fuck me!” Alicent squealed as Ned rammed her again and again. He pushed her legs back, gaining more purchase to penetrate deeper inside her womanhood.

Alicent Hightower was getting fucked.

Roughly, harshly, in every way Ned knew she wanted.

The woman had spent her whole life devoted to the Seven, to her father, to her husband. For the first time in her life, she was allowed to cast adrift in the tides of lust and desire and pleasure. Ned used the Queen like she was a three-copper-whore, and she certainly didn’t seem to be complaining.

All her life she had needed to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect mother. Under Ned she was the perfect whore, taking his cock wantonly and eagerly, begging for more.

“You’re so good!” She whined.

Ned felt her cunt constricting around him like a vice. He leaned down to her bountiful chest, taking one of her hard, rosy nipples into his mouth and sucking on it hard. She only shivered beneath him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Ned could tell she wanted him to stay inside her forever.

As one of his hands was cupping the breast he was suckling from, the other went to Alicent’s hip, pressing her harder against his thrusts. The lurid sounds of Ned’s back smacking on her plentiful arse cheeks filled the library, a symphony of lust to be added to the chorus of debauchery that had taken place there over the centuries.

The table beneath them began to creak and strain under the force of Ned’s pounding. Each of the table legs had begun to scrape across the floor. Ned cared not, especially when he had two lovers as beautiful as Rhaenyra and Alicent to pleasure.

The writhing, moaning and screaming Hightower was suddenly silenced as Ned pounded her through one climax after another. Ned raised his head from her breast to find that Rhaenyra had regained consciousness and had silenced Alicent with her mouth. The two women made love with their tongues as they pressed their naked, sweaty bodies together.

“You take Ned’s cock so good…” Rhaenyra whispered to Alicent as Ned continued to fuck savagely into her cunt. “You’ll make such a fine breeding whore.”

Alicent’s response was stifled when Rhaenyra pressed her giant breasts into the woman’s face, drowning her in pale tit-flesh. “Breed her, Ned.” She looked up to him, taking one of Alicent’s breasts in hand. “Breed her, then breed me.”

The Targaryen was goading him, and Ned was never one to turn down a challenge. He fucked Alicent long and hard. He filled her to utter completion when he deposited his seed in her womb. For an age Ned held himself deep inside Alicent. Rhaenyra had told him to breed the Hightower and that was what he was going to do.

When Ned was satisfied, her withdrew from Alicent and threw Rhaenya down on top of her. The Targaryen’s giggling turned to lurid moans when he shoved his length the whole way into her arse. The three of them continued for some time afterwards, in a range of different positions.

Ned took them against the bookcases, making them climb up the shelves in pleasure-filled delirium. They rode him on the table and various chairs that were strewn about. Every time Ned made sure to fill each and every one of their holes with his seed.

The trio were interrupted when Harper stomped up the stairs to their floor and fixed them with a steely gaze. Alicent was unconscious and half hanging off the chair, her arsehole dribbling Ned’s seed, while Ned was on top of Rhaenyra, fucking her prone on the floor.

Ned made an apologetic face when he saw Harper at the door. He had been trying to lessen the number of times Harper caught him fucking one or multiple women at a time. So far he had not been successful.

“You are needed, your grace.” Harper said in a resigned tone. “There is business we must discuss.” He indicated that Ned should follow him down the stairs.

As Ned was near his end inside a beautiful Targaryen woman, he wasn’t so enthusiastic about the idea. “This is my day off , Harper. Can you not tell me now?” He asked. “They won’t say anything, will you?” Ned jokingly asked Alicent and Rhaenyra, who were both still unconscious.

As Ned was holding Rhaenyra’s head up by her hair, he motioned it to nod emphatically.

“See?” He chuckled.

“The business is urgent.” Harper said in a tone that Ned knew he was serious. Then the Ice Guard turned and began to walk down the stairs. Ned sadly withdrew from Rhaenyra and hurried to redress, throwing on just his shirt, breeches and boots before striding down after Harper.

“So what is this ‘urgent business’ that you require me for?” Ned asked Harper as he followed the Ice Guard to the library’s ground floor.

Harper only grunted, adjusting his rifle as it hung over his shoulder. The newest design of Thunderer had been issued to the Ice Guard in the past few months. The barrel was shorter, but much more accurate. This was due to the spiralled grooves carved into the inside of the barrel, such a thing had been called ‘rifling’. The term apparently originated from some Dwarfish word for carving curved lines.

While the addition was effective, it also rendered the design a lot harder to produce. As yet, the Chosen Men and the best marksmen of the Winter Wolves had been given the rifles.

“Am I to understand the business is not so urgent then?” Ned asked when he realised they’d walked a fair way down the spiral staircase and Harper had yet to answer him.

“One day, I’ll retire and not have to walk in on you knee-deep in moaning women every day.” The Ice Guard grumbled.

“In my defence, you did come looking for me.” Ned chuckled.

“When I was told you were in a library, I didn’t expect to find you fucking on the floor!”

“You’ve known me too many years to think that. But come now, tell me this business or I shall go back to where you found me.”

“A raven came from White Harbour.” Harper stated quickly. “Lord Manderly writes that Princess Shireen Baratheon flew to them on her dragon, with Stannis’ Hand of the King.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it sooner!?” The surprise made Ned’s voice much higher than usual, he half expected a Druid to come up the stairs and shush him for making too much noise.

“They apparently only stopped for food and water and to say they were on their way to Winterfell, in need of sanctuary.” Harper shrugged. “The raven only came less than an hour ago, the dragon can’t be far behind.”

—————————

“Dead? Truly?” Ned asked solemnly.

“Aye.” The slight, brown-haired man answered. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

True to Harper’s words the Princess Shireen and Ser Davos Seaworth had arrived at Winterfell on the back of her dragon. The pair had been tired, worn and seeking asylum. Stannis’ Hand had been in an old blue tunic with brown breeches and brown books. The only thing denoting his nobility had been the silver hand badge of office pinned to his chest. The same badge Ned himself had worn in years past.

The Princess Shireen was a woman grown, with dark black hair kept in a long braid. She would have been a comely girl if not for the greyscale scarring on her cheek and neck. The Princess was long of limb with a sharp jaw and was attired in riding leathers and mail.

They had told Ned of King’s Landing being attacked from within and without at the same time. Of the Velaryons and Celtigar’s betraying Stannis to a Queen from across the Narrow Sea. Daenerys Targaryen.

Ned wondered how he hadn’t known that she had apparently set sail from Essos with an army. Cregan Dhalark had provided him with good information on the self-styled ‘Breaker of Chains’ over the years. It was somewhat concerning they hadn’t heard from him in advance of the attack.

Stannis had lead an army back to King’s Landing after a victory against Lannister forces only to see a massive fleet of ships on the horizon with dragons flying over it. And if that wasn’t enough, there had also been an army from the Tyrells coming from the west.

The battle had gone long into the night with Stannis on his dragon eventually being cast down into the Blackwater and King’s Landing being taken. The Princess apparently only had the time to pick up Ser Davos before having to flee.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Ned found himself saying to Shireen. Stannis had been a hard man, with little love in his heart as the world had held little for him. Ned doubted Stannis would ever have offered condolences to his children should their roles have been reversed, yet he could not bring himself to be petty. Losing a parent was always hard, no matter how they showed their care.

“We thank you for your generosity.” Shireen cleared her voice and spoke, her back straight as a spear. “I am afraid we come to you as little more than beggars but we-“

Ned waved his hand. “Think nothing of it, you may stay in Winterfell as long as you need and I will offer you what assistance I can.”

“I want to fight at your side.” Shireen said instantly. “Thruuda is over a hundred years old and battle-hardened. When the Dragon-Queen comes to lay claim to your kingdoms, I would be there to deny her.”

“I’m no dragonrider,” Ser Davos added. “Nor am I a great warrior. But two of my sons died for King Stannis and then Daenerys Targaryen killed him…” The knight took hold of a leather pouch that hung around his neck. “Stannis made me a knight, made me an admiral, and then he made me his Hand. He gave my sons a future I wouldn’t have dreamed for them otherwise… I will offer you whatever aid I can.”

“If it is vengeance you seek, then I’d say you should look elsewhere.” Ned responded evenly. “I won’t start a war for Stannis’ memory.”

Thoughts of blood and fire and battle ran through Ned’s mind. He had hoped there would be at least some more time for peace before he was called to war again. Yet the Gods were not often so accommodating.

“Daenerys Targaryen wants the Seven Kingdoms.” Ser Davos stated. “You have three under your power and a fourth as your ally. Do you think she’ll ask nicely for them? The Princess speaks the truth. Sooner or later Daenerys Targaryen will lay her claim to all that you rule.”

Ned only grunted, the knight had a point.

“Besides, doubtless she’ll want vengeance of her own for her brother.”

—————————

In the days following Princess Shireen’s arrival Ned set about gathering all the information he could. Messengers were sent through waygates to the Riverlands, Vale and Dorne to take what news they could and report back.

Soon enough, a pretty clear picture was painted.

Stannis had been led away from King’s Landing to attack the Westerlanders and the Reachmen, only for the men of the Reach to abandon their allies at the last moment. While the Baratheon King was away, a number of houses that had sworn to him turned their cloaks and all but opened the front gates for Daenerys Targaryen and her armies.

When Stannis had returned to King’s Landing, he was attacked on two fronts by Targaryen and Tyrell forces at the same time. Ned reasoned that such a thing must have been planned for some time. Their gambit had broken the power of the Storm lords and left Casterly Rock under siege. By some reports nearly half of the houses of the West had abandoned the Lannisters and sworn themselves to the dragon queen once they saw which way the winds were blowing.

She certainly had an effective plan, Ned had thought as he put the pieces together.

The Riverlands were the most vulnerable parts of Ned’s kingdoms and now they had been surrounded on three sides. Dorne had also effectively been cut off from any and all support as well. While the North’s fleets were strong, their arms were not quite long enough to reach from one end of Westeros to the other without support from the land.

She has cut Westeros into three, Ned thought as he looked over the map splayed out on the table before him in Winterfell’s council chambers.

Upon compiling all the information they were likely to get for the time being, Ned had called the Winterfell council so they might discuss what could be done. “It seems I must call the banners.” Benjen drummed his fingers on the table as he sat opposite Ned.

“They need not march, just yet.” Ned added. “Make them aware of the situation, and that they should be making ready for war just in case.”

Luwin turned to Monfryd Gunn. “Guildmaster, what were the last reports Beric and Ser Arthur gave on the cannons in Gulltown and Seaguard?”

In the turn of the new year, Ned had decided to begin fortifying castles outside of the North with black powder weapons, much to the appreciation of his other vassals. So far in the North, only the major defensive places had been given heavy cannons to mount on their walls. Winterfell, Moat Cailin, Rydertown and White Harbour had been the first. Then came most of the other castles on or near the coastlines.

Once the North had a good number of cannons in place, he turned his eye towards the major fortresses of the Vale and Riverlands. Specifically where an attack was most likely to come from. And though he did not voice the thoughts, where they were least likely to be lost should the castle fall. The last thing Ned needed was for his enemies to get their hands on black powder.

While Ned had been cautious to spread the black powder weapons so far at first, he had come to the realisation that his people needed the best protection he could give them.

The dwarf stroked his long beard thoughtfully. “It was near a fortnight when last I heard from either of them.” He said, shifting in his seat and looking through a book of notes almost as big as he was. “Gulltown has ten of the dozen we sent there mounted up, while Seaguard has all eight of their cannons fully installed.”

“The Vale, at least, should be truly impregnable then.” Ned’s father spoke in a gravelly voice. Even after all this time it still warmed Ned’s heart to have his mother and father alive and with him, able to give him advice when needed.

“Aye.” His mother added. “We send dragons to defend their skies and cannons defend the point most likely to be attacked by sea.”

“It seems the only real liability will be the Riverlands.” Yennefer said then, before looking over to Cat. “Apologies, your grace. I mean no offence.”

“No, you speak the truth.” Cat answered with a sigh, Ash took her hand. “My homeland has been the crossroads for the whole realm since there were men to fight each other.”

It was Elia who spoke then. “I still think we should build a wall around the borders with the Crownlands, Westerlands and the Reach.”

“Such a thing would be a great undertaking, your grace.” Luwin turned to Ned’s Martell wife. “And I do not know if it would be as effective as we might hope.”

“We have a wall to the north, why not to the south?” Ash questioned, both she and Elia had been proponents of a border wall for some time.

“You can show me a ten foot wall and I’ll show you an eleven foot ladder.” Jory chuckled in response.

“We’re getting sidetracked.” Ned’s mother rapped her knuckles on the wooden table loudly. “We’re coming out of a long winter and our supplies are lower than we would like. Now is a bad time for a war.” She spoke then truth. The spring should have been spent sowing seeds and cultivating cattle, not waging war that would entail raiding and pillaging.

“Then I suppose we should set more money aside for buying trade goods.” Ned turned to his Master of Coin, Balthazar Poole nodded. The man was a cousin to Vayon through his father’s side and had been in charge of one of the Winter City banks before Ned had summoned him to Winterfell so he could serve as the North’s Master of Coin.

“I’ll pen a letter to my counterparts in the Riverlands and Vale advising them to do the same.” Balthazar responded. Unlike how the realm had been run under the Iron Throne, Ned had decided to go back to a notion of governance that had been used by the First Men, devolutionary councils.

Each of his three Westerosi kingdoms had their own councils with their own regional powers, though they were still under the authority of Winterfell. It granted each of the realms freedom and made them feel they had a greater say in their governance. Of course Themyscira was its own animal and required a different, and perhaps much more enjoyable tactic.

The council had begun to discuss the matter of defences in the Riverlands when young Robert Blackwood, one of Ned’s many squires entered the chamber carrying a letter. The callow youth was thirteen and seemed half terrified of the council as they watched him bring news forth to Ned.

“A raven arrived from the south.” The black-haired boy stated, back straight as an arrow as he held out a silver tray with the letter on it. The letter had black wax and the seal was a three-headed dragon.

Ned sighed and steeled himself for what was to come. “Thanks, lad.” He took the letter from the squire’s tray. “Off with you now, see if you can find my older brother, I may have need of him.”

Brandon had just spent half a year on the path after becoming a Witcher. He had returned to Winterfell before the turn of the moon as he had missed the feather beds. Or so he had said.

Young Robert bowed and left as Ned broke the seal of the letter and began to read aloud. “Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, invites you to King’s Landing so that you might surrender to her peacefully.” Ned heard at least four councillors scoffing at that. “She does not want to drown you in the blood of your armies, but she will if that is what it takes to claim what is rightfully hers. My Queen commands the combined forces of the Crownlands the Reach, the Velaryon fleets, legions of Unsullied, a Dothraki horde and many dragons.” Ned’s eyes fell on the final line of the letter. “Signed Tyrion Lannister, Rightful Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the Queen.” He passed it around the table so they all might read its contents.

“The Imp certainly has a talent for survival it seams.” Cat said after she finished reading the letter and passed it over to Ash.

“Were my mother on this council.” Yennefer said, tentatively. “She would tell you that you would be a fool to go to King’s Landing.”

“And the bitch would be right.” His father grunted. Ned felt a pang of sadness for his father, who had died there but by the grace of the Gods had returned.

“Hortenn.” Ned addressed his chief scribe, who looked up from the letter that had made its way around the table to him. “My response to Daenerys Targaryen is that the last time a Stark was called to King’s Landing by a Targaryen, they were attacked and murdered without trial or just cause. This, understandably makes me uneasy about acquiescing to her request. Inform her that we can talk in another location if that would suit her. Mayhaps she can come to us in Winterfell.”

That got a few laughs from his councillors.

—————————

Letters were sent back and forth. Each laced with veiled threats and brazen demands. Days turned to weeks as the letters were exchanged. It gave Ned at least some time to order the fortifying of Moat Cailin, which would in all likelihood be the first place attacked if Daenerys came north.

Eventually, they managed to hammer out an agreement as to the meeting place of their negotiations. Which is what led to Ned and Brandon standing on the Isle of Faces as they waited for Daenerys Targaryen to arrive.

The ground was wet and earthy, and a thick mist hung in the air around the Isle of Faces. The climb from the shore to the top of the isle had been steep and muddy, wracked with twisting tree roots. It was little wonder to Ned that the Andals had not been able to take the isle when they invaded Westeros. Forgetting entirely the Green Men, who protected the Isle. They wore hides dyed green and elk antlers on their heads. Some were Children of the Forest while others were men. Though all were powerful sorcerers and all treated the isle they tended with a quiet reverence.

This was where a lasting peace was forged between the First Men and the Children of the Forest, Ned thought to himself as he leaned against a gnarled old oak.

At the summit of the island stood a clearing with a small stone pillar surrounded by two dozen old and massive weirwoods, each with a face carved in them. It was a holy place Ned and his brother were in, a place deserving of respect and contemplation.

“I bet she only began to cross the water when she saw we had arrived.” Brandon grumbled as he threw his knife at the nearest weirwood, then summoned it back and threw it again. It had been agreed upon that no dragons would be present at the meeting so they had taken a boat across the God’s Eye.

“I can’t imagine the Gods, or the Green Men for that matter, appreciate you throwing a knife at their trees.” Ned gave an exasperated sigh. He loved his older brother and trusted him with his life, yet he could be trying sometimes. It was those times that Ned tried to remind himself that Brandon was still technically in his early twenties.

“I’ve already died once, a man tends to be less fearful after that.” Brandon flashed him a winning smile, his cat-like, Witcher’s eyes glinting in the grey light of the sun.

Gods know you had little enough fear in you as it was.

It had surprised Ned to hear that his older brother wanted to become a Witcher. Yet Brandon certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. Though he hadn’t voiced his thoughts, Ned had begun to wonder if Brandon had wanted to become a Witcher to render himself infertile and therefore irrevocably quash any notion of his potential descendants wanting to claim Winterfell for themselves. The thought only made Ned love his older brother all the more.

“Mayhaps Rhaella Targaryen will join her daughter at this meeting.” Ned chuckled, having heard of Brandon’s brief liaison with the dowager Queen at Harrenhal.

Brandon gave a wolfish grin. “Now there’s a fine thought. I take the mother, you take the daughter and we put an end to this war before it ever begins.”

Ned was about to answer with another jape when they both heard sounds of movement from across the other side of the clearing. Both brothers tensed at the disturbance, Brandon even moved his left hand to his sword hilt. Through the thick tangle of trees came four men with long spears, large round shields and bronze caps.

Unsullied, Ned knew them to be. Cregan had reported that Daenerys Targaryen had ten-thousand of them in her army. Next came the Dothraki, some were riding horses while others were true centaurs.

After them came a man in full plate that was pale as milk and glinting in the sun. Ned recognised him instantly as he went without a helm, Ser Barristan Selmy. He had known for some time that Ser Barristan had sworn himself to Daenerys Targaryen. Renly’s words had proven true in that area, the man did need someone to serve. The old knight regarded Ned with respect, which morphed into surprise and confusion when he noticed Brandon standing beside Ned.

There was a pregnant pause.

“How can this be?” Ser Barristan stepped forward, in shock. “I saw you -”

“So I heard.” Brandon gave him a winning smile while gritting his teeth. “You stood and watched me die, but it seems the Gods deemed me too handsome to stay dead.”

“I am glad to see that you are well, your grace.” Ser Barristan regarded Ned. “Both of you.”

“Ser Arthur sends his regards.” Ned responded. “Does your queen plan to make an appearance?”

“She traverses the Gods Eye in another boat.” The knight nodded to the Unsullied and Dothraki. “There wasn’t enough room for all of us.”

“Why swear your sword to Daenerys and not Rhaenys?” Ned asked plainly. If he had gone to her as a matter of ‘rightful’ heir, then Rhaenys would still have come before her aunt in the line of succession.

Ser Barristan looked a little contrite at that. “I did think of it.” He murmured. “But the Princess has repeatedly forsaken her Targaryen heritage, not to mention that she already has Ser Arthur to protect her and all your house besides.”

“Whereas Daenerys Targaryen had practically no one.” Ned finished for him.

Ser Barristan gave a firm nod. “I knew I could not stop the first assassins, I could only pray she survived long enough that I could get to her and defend her from the others.”

“Which you seemingly did.” Brandon noted. “What do you make of her?”

The old knight seemed to be weighing his thoughts before he spoke. “She’s certainly ambitious.” He stated. “And plenty of dragon fire in her belly… Yet she also has a lot of care in her heart for the innocent. I see more than a little of Aegon the Unlikely in her.”

High praise indeed, Ned mused.

All knew the tales of Ser Duncan the Tall and Aegon the Unlikely as they traveled all over Westeros. They had come to Winterfell on a number of occasions and were good friends with the Starks of the time. At least that was what Beric had told him. The Witcher had even told Ned that Old Nan’s grandson, a massive Ranger named Walder bore a striking resemblance to Ser Duncan. The kind only shared by blood.

In any case, Ned knew he couldn’t take every word Ser Barristan said at face value. The old knight might have disliked tricks but would not be beyond lying for his queen if she told him to.

“She may have the temper of youth, but she has a kind heart.” Barristan added. “Her mother, the dowager Queen Rhealla, and I convinced her that negotiation with you would be in the best interests of the realm.”

Before he could say more, a beautiful woman with skin dark as mahogany walked into the clearing. Her hair was large, curly and brown. Ned would have guessed that she hailed from Naath, or somewhere like it. But after her came a woman more beautiful by far.

Ned’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of her.

Daenerys Targaryen.

A woman who had haunted his dreams for years was standing before him. She was a Valyrian Goddess in form and stature. Hair the colour of starlight was woven into a complicated braid on her head, going all the way down to her arse. Her eyes were a piercing iliac, reminding him of Ash’s own eyes. While her black and red dress was high necked and lined with fur to keep out the early spring chill, it was plain to see what a bodacious body the Gods had gifted her with.

From the reports Cregan had given, Daenerys Targaryen had a mighty appetite, enough to match any Stark. She had taken almost everyone in her court to bed at least once and normally had more than one lover at a time. It took a lot of Ned’s restraint to stifle the stirring of his loins at the sight of her.

The Dragon Queen fixed him with a steely gaze, mustering all the gravitas someone barely five feet tall could have.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,” The Naathi woman began. Ned imagined she was Daenerys’ herald. “First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Princess that was Promised, The Unburnt, The Bride of Fire, The Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.”

Gods, how many titles can a person have? Ned shot his older brother a look. Brandon met his gaze, seemingly thinking the same thing.

He snorted, before speaking up. “Well you have the honour of addressing Eddard Stark, Eleventh of his name, High King of the First Men, Children of the Forest, Giants, Dwarves, Andals and Amazons, Lord of the Northern Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, King of Themyscira, King of Winter and Forests and Mountains and Rivers, The Quiet Wolf, Chosen of Fenric, Bender of Knees, Blood of Winter, Slayer of the Unworthy, Champion of The Tower of Joy, Sentinel of the North, Father to a Thousand Houses, Emissary of the Others, Master of the Winter City and Stark of Starks.”

Ned rolled his eyes at his brother’s cock-measuring. Though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“The way you’re going, we’ll be here all day.” The Targaryen Queen said under her breath.

“Pot, meet Kettle.” Brandon snarked in return.

Daenerys set her jaw sternly. “Thank you for traveling so far, My Lords. I hope your journey was fair.”

She began with a slight. She did not recognise Ned as a true king. It did not vex Ned, but he knew it was a poor place to begin talks. Before he could respond Brandon cut in, as he often did. “Perhaps you misheard me.” His voice was stone. “Ned is a King, not a lord.”

She turned to Brandon then. “Forgive me Ser —?”

“Your Grace, this is… Brandon Stark, Eddard Starks older brother…” Ser Barristan informed his queen, still seemingly not believing what was in front of him. The Targaryen was taken aback at that.

“Best not to think too hard on it.” Brandon stated, waving his hand. “Gods and Magic and all manner of other wyrd things that none of us truly understand.”

“You were killed by my father.”

“Yes.”

“And now you stand here.”

“Yes.”

“It is a strange world we live in.” Ned cut in. “Best to accept it and move on.” He stood straighter. “And my brother tells the truth: My lords crowned me their King some years ago.”

“Forgive me, Lord Stark.” She responded. “I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for a marriage pact and dragon eggs. Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Over three-hundred years ago.”

“Time does not diminish sacred oaths.” She glared at him in a way that reminded Ned of Rhaenyra. “In perpetuity means — what does perpetuity mean, Ser Barristan?”

“Forever.” Her King’s Guard answered, ever the loyal dog.

“Forever.” Daenerys repeated. “So I assume, My Lord, that you're here to bend the knee.”

Ned stood resolute. “I am not.”

She pretended to look crestfallen. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?”

“Your father had me strangled, you dumb tart.” Brandon seethed before Ned could answer. In that moment, Ned thought perhaps he should have waited longer for Arthur to arrive so he could have gone with Ned instead. “He had my father burned alive. Your brother kidnapped and raped my sister!”

Brandon’s raised voice seemed to disturb the Dothraki, who made to ride Ned’s brother down. While Ned had every confidence his brother could best any of them, he didn’t want blood to soil the meeting. He pulled Brandon back as the Dragon Queen and Ser Barristan did the same for the Dothraki.

Ned gave his brother a stern look, then turned back to the Targaryen. “I apologise for my brother. I’m sure you can understand how he might react in that way due to how your family has treated ours in the past.”

At least the Queen had the shame to look contrite. “My father… was an evil man.” She stated, tentatively. “On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries, even joining together many times. Targaryen blood flows in your veins was well as Stark. We even gifted you our most precious resource: Our Dragons. It lead to centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North.”

“There are many who might disagree with that.” Ned interjected. He could name a dozen conflicts started by Targaryens that engulfed the whole realm off the top of his head. Their reign was far from peaceful, he would not dishonour the memory of the Starks who died by pretending otherwise.

“So you will not kneel to me.” There was a fire behind the Targaryen’s eyes. Barely constrained. Just waiting to be unleashed. Ned imagined she had come in hopes of getting him to kneel and was greatly vexed by his denial. “Why come here then?”

“To talk.” Ned answered. “To find a way that we might coexist in peace.”

“There will only be one peace, my lord. When I am recognised as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It is my right, and my destiny. I am the Princess that was Promised.”

“Promised by whom?” Ned raised an eyebrow.

Daenerys Targaryen rested her hand on a dagger that was on her hip. He quickly recognised it as the dagger that had been used to attack Cat, the dagger he had lost when he was captured in King’s Landing. “Aegon the Conqueror once dreamed of a winter coming down from the North and engulfing Westeros. That a Targaryen must sit on a throne of swords and rule the Seven Kingdoms to avert this catastrophe.”

Ned had never held much stock in visions and prophecy, the future was always in motion and people often saw only what they wanted to. One might show a dozen men the same vision and get two dozen lessons from it.

Perhaps she means the Others? Ned thought. Yet he knew they were peaceful. That the Starks and the Others were one in many ways. Perhaps there was some misinterpretation.

Brandon gave Ned an inquisitive look. Both were wondering the same thing as the Targaryen began to talk again.

“A vision does not make you a Queen.” Ned interrupted her.

She paused at that, then took steps towards him, slowly. “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it… We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your best friend, no? Did you know your best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib.”

Ned could not allow that slander. “Robert only ever sent an assassin after you once.” He said, though it was a rather thin defence. “And when he did, I resigned as Hand of the King. In the end, I managed to convince him to recall the order.”

Perhaps Princess Shireen would have been happier if you had died back then… Ned did not give voice to his thoughts.

“Not quickly enough, as it turned out.” She answered. “Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any Gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen.” In his preifereal vision, Ned caught sight of Brandon rolling his eyes. “My mother fled across the Narrow Sea with nothing, now I have raised an army of over a hundred-thousand. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea. Any sea. But they did for me. I freed the slaves of Essos and brought their masters low. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will. I have Velaryon dragons. I have Tyrell dragons and I have my own. Understand that I only wished to resolve this peacefully as that was what my mother advised.”

Brandon snickered at that. “I see she still has fond memories of me then.”

The Targaryen turned to him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Ned looked to his brother. Don’t do it. Yet Brandon was seldom a man who listened.

“I mean I fucked her across Harrenhal.” He laughed.

A man completely devoid of fear… And perhaps sense too.

“You don’t believe me? Ask her yourself.”

That got a rise out of her. She held a ball of purple fire in her clenched fist. “I came here with peaceful intentions.” She seethed. “Yet it seems you Starks will only accept fire and blood!”

With that and a swish of her skirts, she turned and stormed out of the clearing, her retinue quickly following behind her. They were left in silence again, the faces of the Gods looking down on them. Ned said no words as he looked to his older brother, yet his disapproval was clear.

“What’s with the long face?” Brandon held out his arms. “You know this is where it was always going to end. She wants our kingdoms and we won’t give them to her. At least now she’ll attack us angry.”

Ned just sighed. He saw the scant wisdom in his brother’s words. War was on the horizon.

“Then we had best prepare.”