Chapter Text

Houses and Characters

We are providing this information sheet as we have altered some character birth dates, altered some families, etc., and this can serve as a reference point to help explain our AU.

House Targaryen

King Aerys II Targaryen - Born 244 AC

Queen Rhaella Targaryen - Born 247 AC

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen - Born 259 AC

Princess Elia Targaryen - Born 260 AC

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen - Born 278 AC

Prince Viserys Targaryen - Born 276 AC

Princess Daenerys Targaryen - Born 284 AC

House Stark

Lord Rickard Stark - Born 240 AC

Lady Lyarra Stark - Born 242 AC

Lord Brandon Stark - Born 262 AC

Lord Eddard Stark - Born 263 AC

Lady Lyanna Stark - Born 266 AC

Lord Benjen Stark - Born 275 AC

House Arryn

Lord Jon Arryn - Born 218 AC

Lord Elbert Arryn - 255 AC

House Baratheon

Lord Robert Baratheon - Born 262 AC

Lord Stannis Baratheon - Born 264 AC

Lord Renly Baratheon - Born 277 AC

Mya Stone - Born 278 AC

House Martell

Prince Doran Martell - Born 247 AC

Princess Mellario of Norvos - Born 248 AC

Princess Arianne Martell - Born 276 AC

Prince Quentyn Martell - Born 281 AC

Prince Oberyn Martell - Born 257 AC

Obara Sand - Born 271 AC

Nymeria Sand - Born 274 AC

Tyene Sand - Born 277 AC

Sarella Sand - Born 280 A

House Dayne

Lord Uther Dayne - Born 235 AC

Lady Adara Dayne - Born 237 AC

Lord Arthur Dayne - Born 260 AC

Lady Ashara Dayne - Born 264 AC

House Tyrell

Lady Olenna Tyrell - Born 228 AC

Lord Mace Tyrell - Born 256 AC

Lady Alerie Tyrell - Born 256 AC

Lord Willas Tyrell - Born 273 AC

Lord Garlan Tyrell - Born 277 AC

House Lannister of Casterly Rock

Lord Tywin Lannister - Born 242 AC

Lady Joanna Lannister - Born 246 AC

Lord Jaime Lannister - Born 265 AC

Lady Cersei Lannister - Born 265 AC

Lord Tyrion Lannister - Born 273 AC

Lord Kevan Lannister - Born 244 AC

Lady Dorna Lannister - Born 244 AC

Lord Tygett Lannister - Born 250 AC

Lady Darlessa Lannister - Born 252 AC

Lord Gerion Lannister - Born 255 AC

House Greyjoy

Lord Quellon Greyjoy - Born 225 AC

Lady X Greyjoy - Born 245 AC

Lord Quenton Greyjoy - Born 256 AC

Lord Donel Greyjoy - Born 257 AC

Lord Balon Greyjoy - Born 258 AC

Lord Euron Greyjoy - Born 259 AC

Lord Victarion Greyjoy - Born 260 AC

Lord Urrigon Greyjoy - Born 268 AC

Lord Aeron Greyjoy - Born 269 AC

House Tully

Lord Hoster Tully - Born 240 AC

Lady Catelyn Tully - Born 265 AC

Lady Lysa Tully - Born 267 AC

Lord Edmure Tully - Born 274 AC

Chapter Text

Tywin I

Six Moons before the Tourney at Harrenhal

It was interesting, to say the least. Tywin had certainly heard about the crannogmen and their ways, but to now stand here and look upon the castle built upon the crannog — a man-made floating island of the swamp — was impressive. This castle did not need many knights to defend it, as not even ravens could find it.

When he had first heard that a castle could not be located by ravens because it would change its position regularly, he hadn’t believed it. Now he believed it. It was hard to deny anything you could see with your own eyes.

“It is brilliant, isn’t it?” The words of Kevan, his younger brother, pulled him from his thoughts and he gave a slow nod.

“I do not know if it is brilliant… but it is a very intelligent way to ensure safety without having a big army or multiple knights.” His pale green eyes were still on the castle, trying to find a weakness he could exploit should he ever need to attack it, but he couldn’t find a single point.

“My lord…” that definitely was not the voice of his brother. “Ser Kevan…”

Tywin was sure they had been alone. His eyes moved away from the castle and looked for the source of the voice. After a moment he found the hooded figure who was leaning against a tree.

“Lord Reed asked me to inform you that the falcon and the wolf are waiting for you,” the man said. Tywin could not see his face, as he was still standing in the shadows of the trees. “If you would follow me.”

From the sound of the voice Tywin was sure the figure who turned and walked away from them was a man — though not a  very tall man, just as the stories about the crannogmen had always said. Were more of those stories true?

“My lord…” now it was his brother’s voice. “We should follow,” Kevan said. His brother’s green eyes were looking into his pale ones, waiting for a command from him.

“You’re right Kevan. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

With these words Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, gave his horse a gentle kick with his spurs to follow the man who had nearly disappeared within the trees.

It had taken them longer than he had anticipated to get inside Greywater Watch; it was as if the man leading them simply wanted to confuse them before they were finally led over a bridge into the castle. Bread and salt had been ready for them when they dismounted their horses.

“Lord Tywin, it is an honor to welcome you into my home. Please take some bread and salt.” Tywin was happy he had taught himself to never lose control over his face, as opposed to Kevan. His brother clearly showed surprise as a smaller man suddenly appeared in front of them.

The man was wearing a dark green cloak, the hood pushed back so that his face was visible. Tywin looked into eyes that were of a deep, dark green, and Tywin was certain that those eyes hid more knowledge than the old maester of Casterly Rock.

“Lord Reed, thank you for hosting us today,” he said. Without any emotion he had taken some of the bread and put salt on it, eating it in front of the man while his brother Kevan had taken the reins of their horses and followed his example. “I would appreciate it if you could give our horses some food and water while they rest. My brother and I will need to leave as soon as I’ve finished talking with our old friends.”

The young lord opposite him gave a nod as one of the stable boys walked towards his brother.

“If you would both follow me now, the lords are waiting for you.” This time it was the Lord of Greywater Watch who simply walked away from them without even waiting for an answer.

Holding back a scowl, Tywin followed the man. He heard as Kevan gave the stable boy their horses before following him a bit faster, so as not to be left behind.

It was disconcerting walking through a castle without seeing a single guard positioned anywhere. Tywin’s thoughts were of Casterly Rock, the heavily guarded castle of his family. He had stationed guards everywhere — especially in the private parts of the keep. The risk of someone spying on him was simply too high in his opinion to do otherwise. Still, it seemed the crannogmen didn’t care about that, as if they had no need to worry about spies. He was so deep within his thoughts he nearly bumped into the crannogman as he suddenly stopped in front of a wall.

“Are we—” Tywin did not get to finish the sentence, as the stones of the wall started to vibrate, before they swung out of the way after a second, opening the way into a torchlit room. He could see two men in the room: one older than him and one around his age.

“My lords, Lord Tywin has arrived for your talk. If you need anything, you know how to call me.”

These words were the cue for Tywin to step inside the room. “Wait here Kevan,” was all he could say before the wall closed behind him again. This place was very interesting. He would love to know more about the devices used in this place — this could not be magic after all… or could it? He pushed those thoughts away and approached the round table in the center. The other men had gotten up and moved towards him, the oldest of them offering him his hand first.

“Tywin. Much time has passed since we last met.” Jon Arryn was his usual calm and collected self, a small smile on his lips — only his eyes gave away how serious the situation they were in truly was.

“Jon. It is good to see you in good health.” With that he shook the hand of the falcon before his pale green eyes finally met grey ones — grey like steel. He was the lion… and still Tywin offered his hand first to the wolf who looked at him.

“Lord Stark. It is good to see you again after so many years.”

The rough and calloused hand of the taller man shook his, a small smile coming to the lips of the other man — a smile that made the man look even more like a predator.

“Tywin,” the man started in his deep voice, “we settled on first names during the war — I did not forget that. I’m happy to see you’re well.” Rickard Stark was one of the only men who Tywin had never been able to read: his eyes gave not a single trace of his thoughts away.

“But I think we can save all these pleasantries for later,” the wolf said as soon as he let go of his hand. “You would not have called us for a meeting if you didn’t deem it urgent and necessary. Let us sit down, and you can tell us the reason.”

All Tywin could do was nod and sit down, just as the other two men took their seats and looked at him.

“My lords, first of all I want to thank you for hearing and agreeing to my call for a meeting of the Old Council. Our ancestors founded this council when the Dragons arrived in our lands and took our crowns. It is good to see that to this day we have kept the knowledge and tradition alive: the Wolf, the Lion, and the Falcon. I can only imagine how surprised you must have been when you received a message with the sigil of the council.” Tywin looked at the other two lords who gave a slow nod, wanting him to continue. “As you know, I have served many years as the hand of King Aerys. During these years I became a witness to how he turned mad. A man I have known since my youth, a man I made a knight… and now this. But let us not dwell on the Mad King — we all know it is the truth after all. Let us talk about his heir, a man in whom many have invested high hopes” The lion's pale green eyes moved from the blue eyes of the falcon to the grey ones of the wolf. Eyes of men who had seen war and death, of men who knew how to hide any emotion. “The Dragon Prince shows the same signs as his father. He is obsessed with prophecy — so obsessed that I fear he will descend into madness even younger than his father. From what I have heard, he believes that he or his heirs are destined to save the Seven Kingdoms… I think this man will be the end of us all if we do not interfere.”

After this the lion was silent, eyes still moving between the other two lords while they seemed to have a silent conversation. It was odd, two men looking into each other's eyes and seemingly communicating while not a single word left their lips.

“You’re talking about a rebellion, Tywin?” Jon Arryn finally asked, and looked at him again.

At this question he took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes. I know that you fostered Robert Baratheon. He has Targaryen blood running through his veins; he would have a legitimate claim to the throne if we dethroned the dragons.” It was good when he saw Jon Arryn nod, but the wolf seemed to think.

“Very true, Robert might be an option as king. He has a claim—” but more Jon Arryn could not say, Rickard Stark had just raised his head a bit and the room turned silent.

“From what I have heard, Robert Baratheon does not seem like the best option for the throne,” the Lord of Winterfell said in his deep voice. “He has made progress, drinking less and not whoring anymore. I’m happy that he understood he had to change his ways. But…” Rickard looked at Jon. “Robert could be tempted to slip. If we are honest, the chance for this to happen is high — very high.”

Now Tywin's eyes also looked at Jon, waiting for his response as the man seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “I love Robert with all my heart, but I can’t object to what you said. We will need someone else.”

After the words of the falcon the room turned quiet, until the falcon spoke again.

“It would not be intelligent to place me on the throne. I’m an old man, and if we are honest the kingdom needs someone young to lead it into a brighter future. Someone who will still rule after we are dead,” after a deep breath the falcon continued, “and Elbert is not an option. He still needs to learn — to understand how important certain things are. The Vale will need him as lord after I pass, and I hope to live long enough to prepare him for that.”

After the falcon the wolf spoke. “Brandon is also out of the question. He will one day be a great Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North… but he will never be a good king. He can’t control the wolf blood in him — his emotions slip too easily. Northerners will forgive that… but the kingdom will not.”

Blue and grey eyes looked suddenly into pale green ones, wanting to hear the thoughts of Tywin. In the first moment he wanted to offer Jaime as an option… but Jaime would have a hard time being the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, much less King of the Seven Kingdoms. His son was skilled with a sword, but everything else was an issue. The other option would be to offer himself, but he knew the other two lords would object, and so  probably would more lords during the rebellion. Cersei! Nobody should have an issue with his daughter being betrothed to the next king, and then his eyes fell on Rickard.

“What about your second son, Rickard?” As far as Tywin knew, the boy was not betrothed, and a very intelligent man according to his spies.

Tywin had to hold back a smirk when he saw the surprise in Jon Arryn’s eyes. The man looked at Rickard who gave nothing away, but it was clear the old wolf was thinking.

“Ned is a very intelligent boy. The lessons with the maester were easy for him to handle; after some time I had to give him special lessons by himself as Robert needed a bit longer to understand everything. He is also a skilled fighter according to my Master at Arms, but Rickard lso sent special teachers with him for that… a very promising boy. Honorable—” 

But Rickard Stark interrupted his old friend with a raised hand.

“Ned is a second son. He learned to be a loyal bannerman and an excellent field general. From what I have heard he is fair and just — honorable as Jon just said. Something that I noticed myself long ago is that he can control his emotions. His face does not slip, and his eyes can look like steel, but he is just a second son.”

The old wolf was quiet while Tywin gave the words some thought.

“Yes Rickard, your second son was not raised to be a Lord Paramount, to be a Warden like us. He was raised very differently to the way all three of us were raised. Humble and fair. Just, but hard. Leading men and women alike, but also making decisions under pressure.” For a second Tywin was silent. “Your second son was raised to be a king, Rickard.”

Tywin reached for the cup of wine in front of him. “My lords,” with that he raised the cup, “to Eddard Stark, first of his name.”

It took the other men a moment before they finally raised their cups too, clinking them all against each other before taking a sip.

“I know that both of you do not trust me completely,” he said as soon as they had put the cups down again. “And that is why I want to offer the betrothal of my daughter, Cersei Lannister, to Eddard Stark. I’m ready to sign a contract in the hope this will show you that I stand behind our agreement — that I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”

Tywin watched how Jon looked at Rickard, but he also could feel the old wolf looking straight at him.

“We will make the contract here — I want to take it with me when we leave. Jon will sign as witness. This contract will not just be a marriage contract. It will stand for the bond between our three houses.”

Rickard I

To say he had been surprised about the letter with the sigil of the Old Council would be an understatement. His father had told him everything about it, just as his grandfather had told his father before he had taken over the north. It was a tradition, even though the Old Council had not been called for a meeting for over two-hundred years. The ancestors of Houses Arryn, Lannister and Stark had founded the council when the Targaryens had invaded Westeros.

They knew that they would have to bend the knee at some point, but they also knew that the day might come when the old houses of Westeros needed to rise again and kick the dragons from their throne.

A good thing about the Old Council was that their ancestors had decided and planned everything for the moment the letter was sent. They would meet at Greywater Watch, the crannogmen making sure that the meeting would happen in secret and without any risk. Why did their ancestors trust them so much? Well, Rickard was a northerner, and he liked to think that some of the old legends were true.

He really wasn’t surprised when Lord Reed had anticipated him; the man always seemed to know everything that was happening in Westeros. In this case it was good — really good. Rickard would have hated it if his bannerman had forgotten the pact their ancestors made, and thus embarrassed himself and House Stark.

Rickard had been the first to arrive, unsure what would await them during the meeting. It must have been something urgent for one of them to have sent out the letter, but all his worries had been pushed deep down into himself when Jon Arryn approached. He was the wolf. He would not show a single weakness; just like his ancestors he would wear his lord face and hide everything behind a wall of ice and steel.

After bread and salt, Lord Reed had brought them to the chamber. It had surprised him to see how the wall moved out of the way and after that sealed itself again. His guard was somewhere in the castle, probably getting food and something to drink while he waited. It was common knowledge in the north that within the walls of Greywater Watch you didn’t need a guard. Still it did not surprise him when Tywin Lannister had brought his brother with him and told the man to wait outside the chamber for him.

With the last member of their council inside they could finally  begin.

What Tywin Lannister told them was not really a surprise. He had always thought the Targaryens had a tendency towards madness, but somehow he had held a small hope that Prince Rhaegar would be different, able to repair the kingdoms at least instead of tearing the fractures  even wider apart and probably destroying them in the process. It was well known that Lannisters and Starks did not trust each other, but in this case he believed Tywin Lannister.

As if all that hadn’t been shocking enough, they had somehow settled on Eddard, his second son, to be the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned — the son who was meant to maybe get a small keep and be a field general, and who had never been intended to become Lord Paramount or Warden — but now, Tywin Lannister had seen the perfect king in him, the man who could lead them into the future they all wanted for themselves and their children, and after listening Rickard had to agree, Ned was perfect from everything he had learned of how he behaved and the self control he had.

To his surprise Tywin Lannister had also offered a betrothal to his daughter — even though Rickard was sure that the man only offered it because his Ned was to become King. Still, it was an offer that Rickard couldn’t and wouldn’t ever decline. It would bring the lions and the wolves closer together, maybe repair the rift between both houses. Both he and Tywin still agreed upon not telling their children; if it came out before the rebellion, the other lords would be surprised why Tywin Lannister arranged a betrothal for his daughter — and heir at the moment — to a second son.

“Eddard will also have to get his name into the mouths of the other lords and the smallfolk, and he must do so in a way in which they will not forget it. Somehow, he must leave a lasting impression, positioning an unknown second son on the throne will be hard.” Jon pulled him from his thoughts with his words, and he had to agree.

“Harrenhal is six moons away,” Tywin pushed into the topic, but Jon shook his head. “Ned does not like to participate in the melee or the joust — he thinks men should not play at war and show their skills.”

His eyes had been on Tywin again, noticing how the corners of his lips had twitched, but the man had turned the smirk down. It seemed he’d already liked what he’d heard.

“If I tell Ned that he has to participate, and that he shall make House Stark proud, he will participate.” Rickard knew his son, and he knew that he always would follow a command from his father. Finally the private instructors he had sent to the Vale with Ned would also have to prove their worth. From all he had heard, they were the best he could get for his son, and he wanted only the best. Ned would be the son who rode into battles, leading the army while Brandon as the Lord would be more safe and stay in the back, so it was important that Ned was as skilled as possible.

Jon had looked surprised by that, clearly not expecting that he would tell his son he had to participate, but Rickard really didn’t care about that right now — this was about the future of them, their houses, and all the Seven Kingdoms.

“Then I look forward to watching young Lord Eddard in the melee and joust,” was Tywin's simple answer, the man clearly not having an issue with Rickard giving his son a command to participate.

Before Jon could say anything to either of them, he could hear and see how a single brick of the wall moved and something was placed into the hole. With a smile on his lips, he got up and collected it before the brick slid back into its original place.

“I guess we can write down the betrothal and marriage contract now. Lord Reed brought us parchment and the old sigils of our houses. This should be all we need.”

As much as Rickard respected Jon, at this moment he was simply happy that he would not need to have a discussion with him about Ned. It was his words that Ned followed in the first place; Rickard had told him to keep his skills secret and not participate in playing at war, and now it was his decision that Ned should show everything he’d learned, in the hope that he would make the people talk about him at the tourney.

Writing the contract took a lot more time than he thought, but that really should not surprise him. He was dealing with Tywin Lannister — a brilliant man who would not simply give his daughter away — not even to the future king he had selected himself.

So when Jon finally put his signature and sigil under all four copies of the contract, rolled them up and sealed them with the sigil of the Old Council, Rickard was happy that this part was over. Maybe a discussion with Jon about Ned would have been easier than this, but they had gotten it done, and now each of them had one copy, the fourth copy staying in Greywater Watch to be protected by the crannogmen.

As if it was magic the wall opened again after they closed their meeting, allowing them to exit the room while Kevan Lannister was waiting for his brother.

“My lords, thank you for coming to this meeting. We will meet again at Harrenhal,” Tywin said to Rickard and Jon with a nod before he left with Kevan. Rickard saw that their horses were already ready and waiting, a crannogman holding the reins to lead both Lannisters back to their ship.

“Jon. Ned can not know that we met. Do not tell him anything about this, not even that I will be at Harrenhal.” Rickard’s voice was hard, not accepting any argument as he said that to his old friend. “We’re doing this for the sake of the realm. You agreed to it. There is no turning back now.”

A sigh came from Jon Arryn before a small smile appeared on his lips.

“You know Rickard, what shocked me the most was that it was actually Tywin who came up with Ned.” Jon was silent for a moment. “Ned has lived for so long with me, I know he is brilliant and a born leader. Even Robert listens to his commands without argument… but I simply ignored all his talents because he is a second son. That was so stupid of me.”

Rickard placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I was no better than you, Jon. I did not think about Ned either,” he admitted as they walked towards the courtyard of Greywater Watch, “but I’m sure we’ve made the best possible choice. From everything you’ve told me… I think Tywin’s words were right, even though we didn’t notice it earlier.”

When both men arrived in the courtyard they saw their horses and men already waiting, together with two crannogmen.

“Jon, it is time to say goodbye. I look forward to meeting you at Harrenhal,” Rickard said. After a short hug Rickard had already mounted his horse and was leaving together with his guard and one of the crannogmen; he did not want to leave Lya and Benjen alone with Brandon for too long.

On the way back to Winterfell everything that had happened was still running through his mind.

Eddard, his son, was to become the King of Westeros, and he would marry Cersei Lannister, maybe repairing the relationship of their houses. It was unbelievable that one single letter could change so much. Those few words spoken in privacy could change their view on everything that was going on.

He would have to visit the graves of his ancestors, but before that…

When they had reached the road he asked the crannogman to wait for a moment. Rickard had quickly pulled out a small piece of parchment and was scribbling down a few words on it before closing it with his sigil.

“This is very important. It has to reach the Wandering Wolf quickly. Do not give it to anyone besides him. Destroy it if need be,” Rickard said to the man who had led them back to the road, the crannogman only gave a nod and bowed before slipping the parchment into his pocket and disappearing between the trees.

Rickard could only hope that the crannogman really could find anyone, no matter where they were.

The guards didn’t ask him a single question about anything that had happened. They left him to his thoughts on their way back to Winterfell, and as soon as they arrived, Rickard went to the Godswood. He knelt down in front of the weirwood tree, praying to the old gods. He asked them for their guidance and to protect his pack. In return, he would make sure that they would be remembered again throughout Westeros. He hoped they would hear his prayers, that they would answer his questions and grant his requests.

Three lords had decided that it was time to end the dynasty of dragons, that it is time for a change in Westeros: that the rule of the dragons had to end before Westeros could be burned completely to ashes.

Chapter Text

Eddard I

Travelling to Harrenhal

Harrenhal was close; according to Jon, they would arrive around midday, and Ned grew more excited with every tree they passed. After four name days apart, he would finally see his siblings again, and even though he was sad about it, he could understand why his father wouldn’t come. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

“By the Seven Ned, I have never been this nervous in all my life,” Robert said, pulling him from his thoughts. A sigh escaped his lips when looked at his best friend.

“Robert,” he began, and when he was sure that he had Robert’s attention he continued, “you don’t need to be nervous. Just take a breath, relax, and be yourself. Don’t pull another stupid stunt like the letter you sent Lya. She is probably still pissed about that.”

Ned couldn’t help but shake his head when he remembered that letter. Why Robert had listened to Elbert he wasn’t sure, but he knew that it was one of those stupid southron love letters — the ones that Lya would definitely hate — and Lya’s letter to him more than confirmed that.

“Lya is different from every other woman you have ever met, Robert. She is a wolf, just like my other siblings and me. If I know Lya, she doesn't even want to get married at all. She wants to fight with a sword, ride into battle with her horse, and go hunting. Adventure, Robert — Lya wants adventure in her life; she does not wish to sit in some keep as a dutiful wife.”

His grey eyes were still on his foster brother, and it seemed Robert had finally started to understand. Well, Robert had always needed a bit longer.

“I do not know who put it into your head that you should court Lya like some southern damsel. She is a northerner Robert; just like me, she worships the old gods. Winter roses are the most beautiful flowers for her. Like my father and I do, she also has a strong sense of justice.”

For a moment Ned considered what to say next. All the while he had been nice about the topic, but maybe it was time to give Robert a small blow so he really understood.

“Listen Robert, you’re my brother in all but blood. I will be completely honest with you now. I’m sorry if the words hurt you, but please understand that I don’t want to see you or my sister get hurt.” After the nod from his foster brother Ned continued, “When I approached my father about the betrothal of you and Lya, I told him that I think you’re the only man who could understand her — that in my opinion you’re the only one who would ever be able to make her happy, because you wouldn’t keep her from the things she loves. In other words, you wouldn’t treat her like some prized trophy.” Ned shook his head at that, silent for a moment to make sure he still had Robert’s undivided attention.

“Maybe I was wrong, and you won’t give her whatever she wants to make her happy. Yes, you stopped whoring around, and you drink just a cup or two if you drink at all… but my sister also deserves happiness.” His grey eyes were cold and hard at the moment, looking just like steel. “Now tell me Robert, will you give Lya what she wants? Will you go hunting with her and teach her how to fight, or will I have to advise my father to break the betrothal? Was my judgment of you really so wrong?”

Ned’s face was blank of any emotion, not giving away how he already knew Robert had likely finally gotten the message. It was just like with the whoring and alcohol: Robert needed to be told the blunt and honest truth to get it.

The silence was nice between them, but then Robert finally answered his question.

“Whatever Lya wants, she will get it, Ned. I will put a sword in her hand and personally teach her how to use it. She will accompany me on every hunt. Damn the Seven, I will even plant  a weirwood in the godswood at Storm’s End, and if she walks around all day in breeches, I won’t complain. She will be my equal, and whoever dares to say anything against it will feel my hammer.” 

Ned gave a nod to that. “Good,” he said before he looked forward again. Slowly his eyes got warm again, a small smile coming to his lips. There really might be hope for Robert and Lya.

Robert had disappeared from his side again after a few minutes, and Ned enjoyed the silence once more as he led them all towards Harrenhal.

It was not long after Robert disappeared that Jon appeared next to him, a smile on his lips. Jon had become like a second father to him; the man had taught him so much over the last four years. When he understood the lessons better than Robert, it was Jon who took him out of those lessons, teaching him alone in his solar.

“You’re doing well Ned,” Jon said. The statement surprised Ned, causing him to give Jon a questioning look. His foster father just smirked. “Did you not notice that you led us the whole way? You decided where we would camp, when we would leave, and when we would rest, and so far not a single man has complained.”

Now that Jon had pointed it out, Ned noticed that everything he had done was normally Jon’s task as Lord of House Arryn.

“This was one of your tests, wasn’t it?” Ned asked his mentor, amusement in his grey eyes.

“You passed it with flying colors,” was the simple answer from the Lord Paramount, his blue eyes showing that it made him proud. “It is important that you remember these lessons, Ned. Lead the people, but do not forget them, and be mindful of their limits.”

Ned looked at Jon, his eyes showing confusion for a moment before he nodded.

“I should not be happy when the people I lead are suffering,” Ned concluded.

The answer earned Ned a smile from his foster father, and Ned again noticed how much the lessons he got from Jon had changed over the last few moons. All of a sudden the man had taught him things that a lord would need to know. Not that Ned complained — he loved gaining new knowledge — but it had still surprised him.

Silence fell between them, but Ned knew that Jon enjoyed it just as much as he did. Robert had nearly gone mad with the two of them more than once, not understanding how they could sit in a chamber without saying a thing for hours.

“Harrenhal…”

The word pulled Ned from his own thoughts, and he noticed that Robert was riding to his left while Jon was at his right and pointing towards the ruins of the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms.

All he could do was shake his head at the destruction, which became more and more visible the closer they got. How the Whents were still able to live in this place was a mystery to him.

“Can you imagine how majestic it must have looked before the conquest?” Robert mumbled next to him, and he could only nod in response.

“If you want to ride ahead, Ned, you are free to leave,” Jon said after another moment had passed, and Ned just shook his head.

“We started the trip together, and we will end it together,” he said and simultaneously ended the topic, the words spoken in a tone that would accept or tolerate no attempt at rebuttal.

Again he could see in Jon’s eyes that his answer was exactly what the man had wanted to hear.

Jon and Robert started to talk with each other, now riding a bit behind Ned, Robert still being amazed by the view of Harrenhal.

Meanwhile, Ned looked around, noticing that the land around them was green and fertile. Why the Whents didn’t use it for farming was another mystery. He was sure his father would love to buy corn and other things from them for the next winter: it would ensure that everyone in the north had enough food. Maybe he should write a letter to his father and ask him about that. It would not hurt to ask the Whents if they would be interested in a trade deal.

He was pulled from his thoughts again when a rider approached them. He bore no banner or weapons with him. It was only when the man got closer that he recognized him as a messenger. Ned gave his horse a gentle kick with his spurs, riding out and meeting the man ahead of the others.

Robert I

It was when Jon had been riding ahead with Ned that Robert’s mind started to wander, his concentration not on the two men in front of him.

A few moons ago Jon had called him into his solar. What surprised him was that Jon had only requested him and not Ned, too. Normally Jon always called for both of them, knowing that they had developed a bond like brothers and that one would always support the other — even in the worst of times. So why would Jon call for him alone now? It really had not made sense to Robert at all, until John finally told him that this was about Ned.

“Ned will need a loyal friend very soon Robert,” his foster father had said in a very serious tone. “A friend who will make his life easier, not harder.” Jon’s normally gentle blue eyes were hard when they looked into Robert’s. It was something that made him gulp, not having experienced this kind of look from him. “I know that you started to listen to Ned, and I noticed that you’re drinking less and not whoring around anymore. This is good, and I’m proud of you,” Jon’s hand was on Robert's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze as he continued, “but over the next few moons that will not be enough. Keep working on yourself, and show Ned that he can trust you — that you will listen to him and follow his command.”

Jon had told him a bit more about the importance of friendship, loyalty, and trust. It had confused Robert so much he could not sleep that night. Somehow, he had not been able to understand the words, or at least that was what he had thought until he realized that Jon must know something they didn’t. It must be something that his foster father wanted to keep secret.

Robert knew that he had sometimes let secrets slip. A sad sigh had escaped Robert’s lips at that thought, knowing that Jon had every right to not completely trust him. Too often he had been a fool when drunk, simply blurting things out and hurting the trust other people had in him, but this time he would prove that he had changed — that he was now a loyal and trustworthy friend.

With that thought Robert gave his horse the spurs and closed up to Ned and Jon again, slowing down when he was at Ned’s left side and Harrenhal came into view.

To say he was amazed would be an understatement, even though the castle was mostly destroyed, and the first thing that came into his vision was one of the destroyed towers; it was still impressive.

Robert could imagine how majestic the castle must have looked before it was attacked and mostly destroyed. How he would have loved to have seen it back in those days, to have wandered through its halls and to have stood on its walls. The view from the top of one of those towers must have been impressive.

Still, it seemed to Robert as if Ned was not really interested in the topic, as he only got a nod in answer to his question, and so he slowed down a bit, riding a bit behind Ned to give him space to think. Jon soon joined him, and told him more about Harrenhal. It had been a nice talk until Ned’s horse suddenly sprinted forward, pulling Robert’s as well as Jon’s attention back to Ned who was riding towards a man.

Robert had wanted to go after him, but Jon shook his head, as if the man exactly knew what Robert wanted to do. “Slowly Robert; Ned will be fine,” Jon said as they kept riding at the same pace. They watched Ned have a quiet talk with the man, and as they waited for him it became clear that the discussion was serious. Ned had given a nod to the man more than once.

“Lord Arryn,” the messenger said with a bow when they had closed up to them, “I have an important message from a friend. It is meant only for you.” With these words the man had produced a roll from the inside pocket of his vest. Robert could see that it was closed with a sigil, but he was sure he had never seen it before. “Thank you for your service. Tell our friend I will get back to him soon,” was all Jon said as he took the rolled parchment and it disappeared within one of his hidden pockets.

“It was nice getting to know you, Lord Eddard. Farewell, Lord Arryn and Lord Baratheon,” the messenger said with a bow before turning around and spurring his horse back to Harrenhal, probably to deliver Jon’s short answer directly to this ‘friend.’

“Papa?” The high pitched voice directly got Robert’s undivided attention, a loud laugh escaping his lips as he turned his horse around, and he rode towards one of the guards who had accompanied him. In front of the guard was a little girl, sitting on a saddle specially made for her. Robert reached over and lifted the girl up with one arm, holding her against his chest.

Robert adored his daughter, even if the manner of her conception was the most traumatic event of his life. King Aerys had started searching for a bride for Rhaegar years earlier than anyone had thought he would. He had tasked Robert’s father with finding Rhaegar a Valyrian bride. Robert could still remember standing on the shore around Storm’s End with his brothers when his parents’ ship sank beneath the waves. Upon returning to the Vale, his grief had been a deep well he might not have climbed out of if not for Ned. Still, he wouldn’t change a thing, as otherwise he wouldn’t have Mya.

“Hey little sleepyhead. Night was a bit short, hm? Too many stories from Uncle Ned?” Robert’s bright blue eyes were full of happiness, looking down into the identical blue eyes of the little girl. “I can’t allow you to sleep in Uncle Ned’s tent if you two simply ignore bed time.”

“Nooooo!” the girl squealed in utter shock, looking towards Ned who had suddenly turned his horse around and was approaching them.

“Robert! How can you even think little Mya and I would miss bedtime? I’m shocked. As if I would keep your daughter awake with stories from the north and the she-wolf — on that note, she seems to like the stories about the she-wolf and her adventures.”

“Yes! She-wolfy is funny!” Mya squealed, in delight this time while her small arms and hands reached for Ned.

Robert looked into grey eyes that were warm and gentle again, happiness playing in them as his foster brother ruffled the hair of Robert’s daughter. These were the moments when Robert felt at ease, when Ned just showed this other side of him — his true self.

“I wanna ride with Uncle Neddy!” Mya suddenly exclaimed, her short arms and small hands still reaching for Ned who raised a brow and looked at the little girl. “I do not have your saddle Mya; you were so sleepy that we had to let you ride with a guard.” Robert noticed the feigned sadness in Ned’s voice, holding back a smirk. “How shall I ride with you without a saddle? We can not make another break now; everyone is exhausted and wants to set up camp.” The little girl looked sad, a little pout on her lips as she looked at Ned. “Well, maybe,” Ned started, “your papa would allow you to ride on my shoulders.” 

Mya directly squealed in delight at the thought, getting Robert to also laugh as he looked at Ned. “I guess you’re both lucky that I trust Uncle Ned with my life.” Ned had already positioned his horse next to Robert’s so that Robert could simply lift Mya up and position her on his shoulders. “We have to get back to our position Mya, without us leading them we will never arrive in Harrenhal,” Ned said as he gave his horse a gentle kick with his spurs, riding back to the front and positioning himself in the center.

“Yes! Uncle Neddy is the leader!” Robert could hear while a smirk was coming to his lips as he gave his horse the spurs too and closed up with them. Just like Jon he was again riding slightly behind Ned, one of them on either side.

The rest of the way to Harrenhal Ned was not silent anymore. He talked with little Mya, also involving Robert and Jon into it as they got closer and closer to Harrenhal.

Much sooner than Robert had anticipated they were riding through the first camps of hedge knights. It surprised Robert how many people had arrived already; the grounds looked full, and in the distance he could see the banners of his own house as well as Ned’s. Nobody protested when Ned led them towards the Stark banners, soon entering the camp of his family where guards were bowing and greeting them.

Ned still had Mya on his shoulders when suddenly a man appeared who looked like an older version of Ned.

“Edd—” the man had started before his eyes fell on Mya and he stopped. Behind the man appeared four more people, two men and two women… and then Robert understood. This was Ned’s family. The old wolf Rickard, the mother wolf Lyarra, the wild wolf Brandon, the she-wolf Lyanna, and Benjen the pup. All five of them were looking at the little girl who was on Ned’s shoulders and then back at Ned, eyes moving up and down until Mya pointed at Rickard and said, “Grandpa Wolfy!” in a happy voice, reaching for the man with her short arms and small hands.

Chapter Text

Lyanna I

At Harrenhal - Day of Eddard’s arrival

“Grandpa Wolfy!” The words from the little girl on Ned’s shoulder went beyond leaving Lyanna at a loss for words. It was as if the impossible was confirmed. Her brother had a natural-born daughter with bright blue eyes — a daughter who seemingly wanted to be held by her grandfather, who looked just like an older version of her father.

Even her mother and father were speechless, not moving an inch as Ned reached over his head and lifted the girl from his shoulders, holding her on one arm and ruffling her hair, which earned him a giggle from the girl who still looked at Rickard Stark and reached out for him.

“May I introduce you all to Mya Stone,” Ned said to them with a smile, holding the girl the same way their father had held her when she was a little girl: protectively, and with warm eyes, having something reserved in them that she could only describe as a father’s love.

“And you all thought I would be the first to bring a child home!” Brandon suddenly exclaimed, and Lyanna was sure she heard her father’s neck snap as he turned his head to the oldest of the Stark siblings. Her mother scolded, “Brandon!” and sounded aghast. Even so, Lyanna’s gaze remained on Ned, and she noticed how his eyes got wide, before all of a sudden a loud laugh burst from her brother's lips, causing the girl to giggle, too. “You…” Ned said and shook his head, still clearly amused. “You think Mya is my daughter?” Again Lyanna was sure she could hear her father’s head move sharply, eyes on Ned again. “This is Mya, Robert’s daughter,” Ned said. With this sentence, Lyanna could hear how her father exhaled, seemingly having held his breath out of the shock.

While her siblings — just like her parents — seemed to relax — and even be a bit amused from the confusion, and was that a hint of disappointment on her mother’s part? — Lyanna’s eyes finally moved to the other man on a horse: Robert Baratheon. The foster brother of Ned, and her betrothed. A betrothed who wrote Lyanna a letter that sounded as if she was some stupid southern damsel. Lyanna could feel her blood boil at the thought of the letter alone, anger rising again. As if that wasn’t enough, Robert had also brought his bastard daughter to the tourney. The man probably wanted to show Lyanna directly how her future life would be, just being a womb to give birth to his children and accept all his bastards running around in Storm’s End. If so, he was in for a rude awakening. She was the she-wolf for a reason.

Lyanna took a deep breath, her grey eyes getting hard as she nodded towards the other man, “Lord Baratheon,” greeting them before her father would remind her of her manners. A moment later Lyanna regretted it, as the tall man got down from his horse and moved next to Ned. It was as if Robert and Ned were used to this, her brother simply handing the little girl over to Robert before he got down from his horse too.

Just as always, Ned was the perfect son, stepping in front of their parents first and getting on one knee. “Lord Stark, Lady Stark,” Ned greeted their parents as if he was just some knight. “I’m happy to see you here. From your letters, I thought at least one of  you would remain in Winterfell.” After the shock of thinking Ned had sired a bastard, even her father didn’t really care, and he simply pulled Ned up and into a hug.

“It is good to finally see you again my son,” Lyanna heard her father whisper into Ned’s ear during the hug. In response her brother just wrapped his arms tighter around their father. Her mother only looked on, smiling fondly. Out of the corner of her eye, Lya noticed how Robert was approaching them, making slow steps with the blue-eyed girl on his arm. A moment before Robert was standing in front of Lya, Ned had turned around and gave her a big smile.

“Lya!” Lyanna definitely was not used to Ned saying her name so loudly before simply wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. It was then that she noticed how tall Ned had gotten over the last four years. Tall, broad, and muscled; what a surprising change in her brother. He was the quiet wolf, but right now he showed only happiness, not holding his emotions back. “I have to introduce you to someone,” Ned whispered into Lyanna's ear, and she was sure that she could hear his smile.

“Lyanna,” her brother started, “this is Robert Baratheon. My foster brother and best friend, as well as your betrothed, and the Lord of the Stormlands.” She nearly rolled her eyes when Robert smiled at her like a fool, but Ned’s voice stopped her. “Still, that is not so important; the old oaf can wait a few more minutes before saying hello,” her brother took the little girl from Robert’s arms and smiled down at her before looking at Lyanna again. “This is Mya Stone, the biggest fan of the she-wolf I have ever met. She won’t go to bed without hearing a story about the she-wolf’s adventures.” Now it was Lyanna who looked at her brother with wide eyes, blinking at what he’d just said before looking down at the girl. Bright blue eyes looked into her grey ones, and it was clear to see how excited and amazed the little girl was, directly reaching for her with her short arms and small hands. “She-wolfy!” Mya said, squealing in complete excitement.

Lyanna still couldn’t believe it. She looked with wide eyes at her brother Ned and the girl, still blinking, before she slowly raised a hand and offered it to the little girl. “Hello Mya,” she said in a neutral tone, a bit of self-hatred rising within her when she saw how sad the girl looked as she wrapped her hand around two of her fingers. Mya was a child; Lyanna knew she shouldn’t blame her for her father’s indiscretions, but it hurt to be confronted with what was waiting for her within a few years.

“I…” Lyanna started and shook her head. “I have to excuse myself. Forgive me father, mother, Ned, Lord Baratheon,” and then she was already rushing away from them, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. At least nobody followed her, leaving her the space and time she needed to reorganize her thoughts. Lyanna had disappeared into the woods, stopping at some old tree she leaned against before slowly sliding down to the ground. Finally, tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to hold back a sob.

Never had Lyanna imagined she would one day treat a child badly just because the child’s father had made a mistake. The little girl, Mya, bore no responsibility for what Robert had done — and she had looked at Lyanna with so much adoration and awe in her eyes, clearly happy that she was finally meeting the she-wolf she had heard stories about. Stories Ned had told her — Ned, her favorite brother, the one who had always listened to her, whom she could tell everything without having to worry he would tell father. She had been so cold to the girl — she could still see the sad blue eyes when she closed her own grey ones.

Lyanna hid her face in the sleeves of her tunic, crying into them, as she kept thinking about the little girl Ned adored so much. Never had Lyanna seen him act and behave like this — so warm and open, not shutting everyone out with the same cold eyes their father showed to his bannermen.

“Why do I even care?!” Lyanna shouted suddenly, ravens escaping from the trees around her as she looked up and stroked the tears away with force. “I don’t love Robert Baratheon! I don't even care about that drunken whoremonger,” with these words Lyanna stood up again and kicked a stick away. “And Ned! How could he allow Robert to bring that girl with him?! He is rubbing my face in the fact that he’s had other women, that he will never stay loyal,” a low growl escaped her lips as she picked up the stick and swung it against a tree like a sword. “Ned should be loyal to me! Instead he acts as if Robert is the best man in Westeros! He’s probably even kissing Robert’s ass when they’re alone,” again the branch was swung against the tree with force. “The bastard probably just used him, making fun of Ned whenever he isn’t around,” the swings got more forceful. “He probably takes every girl Ned has a interest in to bed,” and finally the branch broke in two, Lyanna snapping out of her rant as she looked at the branch and then heard voices in the distance.

Robert II

Robert was surprised when Lyanna suddenly excused herself and hurriedly left, his eyes moving to Ned who was also watching his sister — just like all the other Starks. Before he could say anything stupid, Robert bit his tongue, the pain stopping him from opening his mouth before Ned spoke. “I think we should give her a moment,” the other Starks nodded at these words, and Robert could feel a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry Robert,” Jon Arryn said to him, Jon’s blue eyes warm and understanding.

A moment later the hand disappeared, and Jon walked towards Rickard. “Lord Stark!” His foster father greeted the other man with a bow. “Lord Arryn,” Ned’s father gave a small bow in return, before both men started to laugh and gave each other a hug. “Many years have passed since we last saw each other, Rickard,” Jon said. Robert watched silently, able to imagine himself and Ned in this position when they were older, and the thought brought a smile to his lips. “Still, we’re both alive and well Jon, what a wonder when I think back to our time fighting the war,” Rickard added. Again both men laughed before the hug ended.

“Let us go to my tent and have a drink. I have made sure to keep some space so you and your men can set up camp right next to us.” Rickard’s hand was now on Jon’s shoulder, leading him away before he turned his head once more. “Brandon, Benjen. Show Ned to his tent,” Rickard ordered before he, Lyarra, and Jon disappeared between the guards.

“You gave us the shock of our lives; I was worried our father might faint,” Brandon said with a smirk on his lips as he stepped closer to them, looking down at Mya with a smile. “She is a beautiful girl Robert,” the man looked up at him again with a smile on his lips. In this moment Robert noticed two things; the first was the eyes of the Starks — it seemed as if each of them had their own shade of grey, while Ned clearly bore the closest shade to his father. The second was that he could not understand what Ned had always complained about. Ned had told him Brandon had the good looks, the charming smile, and got the interest of all the women, while Ned was just the plain second son. Robert definitely couldn’t agree with that. Ned was maybe an inch or two taller than his brother — and it was possible he’d grow taller  still within a name day or two — as well as broader than Brandon — it was clear to see at the shoulders and the chest. Robert would also dare to say that his foster brother had a bit more — and bigger — muscles than his older brother. As for the smile… well, Ned just needed to smile more— like he’d done a few minutes ago.

Robert would probably have compared the two brothers even longer if Mya had not squealed in delight, now standing in front of a kneeling Benjen who was giving her a welcome hug and asking her if she really liked the she-wolf so much, as surely she should think the pup was much funnier and more adventurous.

It made Robert happy to see how well Ned’s brother accepted Mya; he had feared they might ignore her and treat her badly because she was a bastard, but again Ned had been right:  his family was not like the southerners. For the Starks, the pack survived, and nobody would be cast out from the pack.

“Come, I should show you Ned’s tent. I’m sure you will love it,” Brandon had laid one hand on Robert’s shoulder and one on Ned's. “Benjen! You stay with Mya and play with her. Don’t leave her alone; you will be by her side at all times,” Ned’s older brother added before leading them through the northern camp. Robert really hadn’t expected to see so many northern houses here at Harrenhal. Normally the northerners kept to themselves, not wanting anything to do with tourneys — at least according to Ned’s stories. He saw the banners of Houses Cassel, Dustin, Glover, Manderly, Ryswell, Umber and even the Karstarks — an impressive turnout.

“Father wanted the Stormlands to have their camp next to us, but Lord Connington talked the Lords into camping closer to the castle. I thought father would snap the man’s neck right then,” Brandon told them with an amused tone. “He still told us to prepare a spare bed for Robert, just in case he wanted to stay here a night or two,” the oldest son of Rickard Stark looked at him. “We didn’t know you would bring your daughter, but I will arrange to also have a bed for her here.” Robert gave a nod to that, “Thank you Brandon, that is very kind of you and your father. I will settle the dispute with Connington later.” 

The name alone brought Robert’s blood to a boil. Connington seemed to worship the Targaryens — and especially the crown prince. Robert had heard more than once that the man might not be interested in women, but only the prince, wanting to impress him with everything he did. Well, too bad he wasn’t the Lord of the Stormlands. That was still Robert’s title — the title he had inherited from his father, who had died on a mission for the mad man who called himself a king. “Find a wife for my son in Volantis. She must have Valyrian blood, my son deserves nothing less,” Aerys had said to his father; Robert balled his large hands into fists at the thought alone. That mad man had sent his parents to their deaths, and he had been forced to watch! He had stood there only yards away, and he could have done nothing to rescue the two people he loved the most.

Then came Connington, telling him and his brothers that they should be proud of their parents, that their parents had loyally served the most generous Targaryen family, the greatest rulers the Seven Kingdoms had ever known. Oh, and he wouldn’t let Robert forget that they wanted to make the crown prince happy: a wonderful man who would lead the realm into a new age when it was his time to rule — at least according to Connington. Robert should have simply smashed the man’s skull in then and there; he should have taken his warhammer and brought one blow after another down upon the man, until he wouldn’t be able to say anything ever again.

Robert felt his shoulder being squeezed by a strong hand, looking into grey eyes when he turned his head to the source. “Memories?” was all Ned asked him, understanding that the name had probably triggered Robert into an internal fit of rage. “You will be able to show him his place later,” his best friend continued, and slowly a smile came to Robert's lips again and he gave a nod.

“So,” Brandon started and opened the entrance to one tent — it wasn’t the biggest, but it wasn’t the smallest either — before Brandon continued, “this is Ned’s tent. As father wished, we have prepared a bed for you here Robert,” Robert looked in the direction Brandon indicated, seeing a bed that would do just fine for him. Then he looked a bit confused at the oldest Stark. “Why am I in the same tent as Ned?” he asked in a calm but intrigued tone. “Should your brother not have some privacy too? Maybe he would like to invite a lady here?” he said, his bright blue eyes focused on Brandon, watching the man’s reaction — unlike Ned, the man could not hide anything behind cold grey eyes; no it was easy to see the mischief in them, to see that Brandon would not make his brother's life any easier this moon.

“We forgot to bring an extra tent with us from the north,” was Brandon’s answer, and — even though Robert oft needed longer than Ned to understand things — he could clearly see that this was either a lie, or Brandon had purposefully left the tent behind . “But quiet, little Ned will surely not need that much privacy Robert,” when Brandon’s hand touched his shoulder, Robert felt his blood boiling again. “If you need some privacy…” the man slowly started and leaned closer to him, “just kick little Neddy out. Someone will offer him a bed in his tent, or at least father and mother will,” and he then had the audacity to laugh.

How Brandon could call Ned — who was visibly bigger than him — ‘little’ with a straight face, Robert didn’t know. Robert had wanted to punch Ned’s brother so badly then, but he felt a strong grip on his arm, stopping him before he could even move. His blue eyes again looked at Ned who just shook his head.

“Excuse us Brandon, Robert and I have things to do,” was all his foster brother said, before pulling him out of the tent and towards the market which had been set up closer to the castle.

Chapter Text

Ashara I

Market at Harrenhal

Anyone who had hoped Cersei Lannister leaving King’s Landing would change anything between her and Ashara Dayne would have been greatly disappointed. Lord Tywin Lannister taking his daughter back home had done nothing to end the ‘war of beauty’ Ashara had been fighting with the blonde, even though — if Ashara was honest — it had felt like a little win to watch the golden lioness’s carriage roll out of the city. Cersei had really thought she was more beautiful than Ashara — a fact that still made Ashara shake her head in frustration. How that woman ever got such a notion into her head was a riddle she would probably never be able to solve.

Yet somehow King’s Landing had also gotten boring without the green-eyed blonde. No woman dared to challenge her anymore, and Elia was too good a friend to step up and openly challenge Ashara for her title as the most beautiful woman in Westeros. Elia was — in Ashara’s opinion — the only one who could really challenge her — not that self-described lioness of Casterly Rock, who was thinking her father’s gold could buy her everything she wanted. Well, Cersei obviously couldn’t buy beauty surpassing Ashara’s. She had to hold back a laugh when she suddenly stood opposite green eyes.

“You?!” Both women asked at the same time, their small smiles giving way to matching scowls. Green eyes looked into purple ones, both ablaze and clearly ready for a fight — at least one of their personal fights involving words, dancing, or the collecting of looks from the men who stood around. Why had she even thought about this woman?! There had been no reason for Ashara to do so; she should have been happy with the blonde being gone. Yet somehow… she had missed their fights. They had made her life more exciting, even though she had sometimes lost to the golden lioness — though these losses were few compared to her wins.

“What are you doing here?” Ashara asked the other woman as she continued walking along the path to the market the merchants had set up. “I could ask you the same,” the blonde had — just as Ashara anticipated — directly turned around and was walking next to her. “Let me guess,” Cersei added before Ashara could even answer. “Your friend didn’t want to go without her little Dornish bed warmer?” The words were not more than a whisper, so that only Ashara and Cersei could hear them — say what you will about their rivalry, but neither woman would risk the life of the other.

Ashara just raised her chin higher, a smile on her lips. “You sound jealous,” she began her answer, “do you want to be in my place? I could talk with Elia, maybe she has a soft spot in her heart and will be willing to take a stray lion cub into her care.” Each word dripped with a provocative and challenging tone, daring the woman to fire back.

“Maybe a frail sun is just more than happy that the beautiful and strong lioness is away, so her dragon can not notice which of them is the most beautiful and let the sun fall.” Cersei Lannister always hit a nerve when she talked about Elia, and Ashara knew the woman knew it. That was why Cersei brought Elia up in the first place — she knew it was the only way to make Ashara angry. “You should watch your tongue lioness,” Ashara began with a sharp and warning tone, her purple eyes ablaze, “or someone might hear how you planned to make the sun fall, and maybe that someone misunderstands and thinks you plan to bring down more than the sun.” Ashara raised her head again, looking away at the same time Cersei did, each looking in the opposite direction rather than the path they were following.

Thus neither woman noticed the narrow rut carved into the road, their feet sinking into it so that both stumbled forward and crushed into the dir— no, Ashara belatedly realized it wasn’t the dirt: it was something warm and hard. After a second she could feel that it was an arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against a body that smelled like a forest, like grass and trees, like freshly cut wood, combined with a slight hint of smoke. Never before had Ashara smelled something so enticing — something that gave her such a warm feeling throughout her body.

Finally she opened her eyes, looking up at her savior. Purple eyes met grey ones that were clearly amused, but also showed worry and warmth; Ashara realized then that she could drown within those deep grey pools, that she would be more than happy to drown in their warmth. “My ladies,” the man said, and the depth of his voice made the hair on Ashara’s neck rise upright — it was hard to not shudder at the sound of his warm voice alone. “Are you both okay?” This was the moment she realized the man had only one arm wrapped around her, and that he had caught her and stopped her from falling with just one arm. She felt movement from the other side, her eyes flicking to the side and noticing the golden hair of the other woman who was now looking up into the man’s grey eyes — a man who had caught each of them with just one arm, making sure they didn’t fall as he pressed them against him.

“Y… yes,” her eyes were back on the man’s grey eyes when she also heard a ‘yes’ from Cersei. “Good, I was a bit worried you might have been hurt.” Ashara noticed that a small smile stayed on the man’s lips as he looked down upon them.

“Ned! I need your advice,” a voice suddenly bellowed over the sound of all the people at the market, and Ashara could feel the man let go of her waist, taking a step back. “I have to excuse myself, my ladies,” he said, with a bow to both of them. “I wish you a wonderful tourney, and perhaps you should watch the path you take together instead of pointedly ignoring one another,” the words — combined with the hint of a teasing smile on the man’s lips — brought a blush to Ashara’s cheeks… but not only hers as she realized a moment later when the man had turned around and left.

Cersei had blushed from the man’s words just as Ashara had, one hand slightly raised as if she was considering waving after Ned — that was the name his friend had called him by —  and just a second later purple eyes looked into green ones, both women opening their mouths at the same time. “He clearly wanted to catch me!” they said at the same moment, and then their eyes became angry slits. “Dream on Lannister,” Ashara replied directly. “His eyes were focused on me most of the time; he clearly wanted to catch me, and was smitten by my beauty.” A laugh was Cersei’s response to Ashara’s words. “I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, but you’re imagining things Dayne,” the daughter of Tywin Lannister answered. “His eyes were clearly on me the whole time,” she added as she raised her chin, green eyes still locked onto purple ones.

Ashara laughed and shook her head. “Did you even see the warmth in his eyes?” she asked the other woman as she took a step towards her. “That warmth was only for me,” Ashara’s eyes moved up and down Cersei's body once, a smirk coming to her lips. “The only thing his eyes had for you was amusement — amusement about you behaving like a spoiled little child. As if a woman like you could ever catch the interest of a man like Ned,” the smirk stayed on Ashara’s lips while she looked into Cersei’s green eyes.

“You only know his name because of his friend,” the lioness fired back. “Ned clearly didn’t tell you himself, and also didn’t encourage you to call him by such a personal name.” It was Cersei's turn to raise her head now.

“Well, we will see whom he chooses by the end of the tourney Lannister,” Ashara now stood just inches away from the other woman. “I’m sure it will not be you. Why would Ned even consider you if he can have me? I’m the most beautiful woman in the realm,” Ashara whispered to the other woman before turning around and leaving Cersei Lannister standing right where she was. A smirk was on Ashara’s lips as she went to search for Elia and Rhaenys at the market, since her friend had told her to meet them there.

Cersei I

Market at Harrenhal - After Meeting Ashara

Out of everything that could happen to her at Harrenhal, she’d had to  run directly into Ashara Dayne — the woman who thought herself more beautiful than Cersei. Even though her father Tywin had taken her with him back to Casterly Rock, the war between the two of them hadn’t ended. When the carriage had left Kings Landing, Cersei had been looking out the window, up to the balcony upon which Ashara Dayne and Elia Martell had been standing. To the average observer it would have seemed as if the two women were merely talking, but Cersei was certain they had actually been mocking her and making fun of her losing the battle of beauty thanks to her father.

Elia Martell… that was another painful topic for her. Since Cersei had been a little child, her father had promised her to one day become the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, telling her that he would make sure Prince Rhaegar would marry her. However, King Aerys had sent the Baratheons out years before her father had expected him to pursue a match for Rhaegar — tasking them with finding a Valyrian wife for the Prince, as only Valyrian blood would be good enough for him. When the Baratheons failed — their ship sinking with them into the depths of Shipbreaker Bay — her father had been relieved, only to get even more shocked when the king announced the marriage of his son to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne — a marriage to ensure the Dornish people would stay loyal to the crown — before her father could even press his suit for her.

It was only thanks to her mother that her father hadn’t done something stupid that day — just as her mother had so often stopped anyone from their family from doing any number of  stupid things over the years. Cersei had to admit that her mother had even had to stop herself and Jaime from doing something very stupid once.

When it had happened, Cersei had not understood what was so bad about it — the Targaryens had done it for generations after all — but her mother had not shared this viewpoint, and had screamed at them both. Never before had she seen her mother like that — even her father seemed quite surprised when the screams had called him to the scene.

After that night her mother had made certain it could never get so close to happening again — causing more than one shouting match between Cersei and Joanna Lannister,  which resulted in Joanna always proving who the real lioness of the two of them was.

Now — after multiple name days had passed since that night — Cersei understood why her mother had been so furious back then. With time and a lot of reading about the ruling family, she understood that something wasn’t always good simply because someone powerful had done it.

Now there was this man — a man she had never seen before. His friend had called him Ned, and she couldn’t remember her father ever talking about a firstborn son named Ned. It had surprised her to see that he had actually managed to keep both her and Ashara from falling — but he looked like a northerner, they had always been brutish barbarians with more brawn than brains. Why Ashara even showed such an interest in him was a mystery to her — the man might not even be a second son, and who would trust his warm grey eyes combined with the deep and dark but still very pleasant smell of nature? Both — his eyes and his smell — were clearly made to seduce some poor southern girl into giving him her maidenhead before he left for his cold home.

No; Cersei really had no interest in him — but simply letting Ashara have him was not an option. That would be like surrendering to the other woman and admitting she had no chance at getting a man the other wanted — and a lioness never surrendered.

A high pitched voice pulled her from her thoughts as she realized she stood next to a merchant’s tent, looking toward the castle. She saw two figures close to the castle, a man with white hair who was sitting on a wooden box, and a dark-skinned woman who might be able to challenge her and Ashara’s beauty if she didn’t look so thin — Rhaegar and Elia Targaryen. Cersei slowly walked a few steps towards the couple, hiding in the shadow of the merchant's tent — and finally she also saw the source of the high pitched voice. Little Rhaenys Targaryen — daughter of Rhaegar and Elia — was standing in front of her father and trying to get his attention.

“Kepa,” Cersei heard the young girl say in an excited tone, “you play with me and Balerion?” The little girl had stepped closer to her father, one hand gently pulling at his right trouser leg to get his attention — but Rhaegar simply ignored his own daughter, an annoyed huff escaping his lips as he was disturbed while reading some old book; however, what shocked Cersei the most was that he simply waved his hand, indicating that he wanted the little girl to leave him alone.

“Rhaegar…” It was easy to identify this voice as Elia’s. “Can you not lay that book down for a few minutes and play with our tala?” Cersei was sure she’d never heard Elia’s voice with such an annoyed and exhausted tone to it. Slowly Cersei looked back down to the little girl who was looking up at her father — probably hoping that the man would listen to his wife — and Rhaegar again didn’t react at all, his hand just moving to the page and turning to the next.

It was then Cersei realized that Rhaegar Targaryen seemed to be not at all interested in his family, the book he was reading clearly more important than the happiness of his daughter and wife.

“Really?!” More anger was audible in Elia’s voice. “These damn prophecies are more important than our tala? Well,” Cersei saw how the woman took a hold of her daughter's hand, “enjoy your day with your prophecies. Rhaenys, Balerion and I will be at the market.”

Even then — with an angry Elia and a nearly crying Rhaenys in front of him — Rhaegar Targaryen didn’t show a single emotion; he only gave a small wave of his hand after a moment, telling his family to leave him alone before his voice could be heard. “These ‘damned’ prophecies — as you call them — will one day save Westeros; you should treat them with the respect they deserve.” The normally melancholic and gentle voice was simply cold the way steel was cold, empty of any emotion just as Cersei had noticed.

Cersei was sure Elia huffed then, lifting Balerion from the ground and placing the kitten in little Rhaenys’s arms; the only sweet thing in this scene happened then, when Balerion pressed his head against little Rhaenys’s hand and licked a tear away from her cheek.

“Let’s see if we find something nice for you at the market my Little Sun,” Cersei could hear Elia say as she left with her daughter. “Aunt Ashara is also waiting for us.” This and the black kitten seemed to cheer the little girl up slightly, bringing a small smile to Cersei's lips.

Still, she was shocked at Rhaegar Targaryen’s behavior, and for the first time she was happy that her father’s  plans had not worked out — that she was not married to this emotionless man.

Cersei slowly started to move away from the scene when another thought came to her mind: if Rhaegar was her husband and behaved like that all the time, she would make certain that they had no more children. Mayhaps she and Elia thought alike, and Elia had likewise ensured she hadn’t given Rhaegar more than a single child after witnessing how he treated Rhaenys.

Chapter Text

Elia I

Market at Harrenhal

Four years ago — when Elia had married Rhaegar Targaryen — everyone had thought that she was the luckiest woman alive, marrying the Crown Prince of Westeros — the most beautiful and gallant man the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. However, Elia had found herself hesitant; she somehow hadn’t believed everything people said about the melancholic and silver-haired man. She had always thought it odd that someone seemed to be so perfect, so without fault or issue. Maybe it was because of her own family, the way they were raised and how her brothers — especially Oberyn — behaved and some — again she thought of Oberyn — still behaved.

In the end she was proven correct; Rhaegar was not the man everyone thought him to be. Rhaegar was a man obsessed with prophecies, always reading them or books about them; it seemed they were the only thing that really mattered to him. Rarely had she and Rhaegar talked; mostly it was Elia who simply annoyed him until he would stop reading and talk — and even during those talks, the man somehow always moved things towards one prophecy or another.

Elia was sure she could somehow have been fine with it, that with time she would have been able to accept it and maybe even understand why he loved these prophecies so much — she had even hoped that maybe he would change after their first child was born. Alas, her feelings changed directly after sweet little Rhaenys was born.

Rhaegar hadn’t even wanted to hold their daughter, he had just looked down at her and nodded before saying the words which had caused Elia to make the most important decision of her marriage. “The first head is born, but the dragon has three heads,” with those words he had left Elia and their daughter alone; it was then that Elia had decided to drink moon tea so she wouldn’t give this man another child.

Today had only proved her decision to be the right one; the way Rhaegar ignored their daughter made her blood boil. This man didn’t even deserve Rhaenys, much less another child; he had no emotions and no love inside him — at least not for anything besides his damned prophecies.

“Mami,” the word alone pulled Elia out of her thoughts and she looked down at her daughter with a smile on her lips, her hand gently moving through the girl's hair. “Yes, Little Sun?” Elia was looking into her daughter's eyes. “Does kepa not like me?” Those simple words made Elia’s heart break into a thousand tiny pieces, making the hate she felt for her husband grow even stronger within her — but Elia pressed it all down. Rhaenys deserved all the love in the world, and Elia would give her all the love she had within her body and soul. “No, kepa is just a very busy man. He needs to be prepared, as one day he will rule the Seven Kingdoms. I’m sure he loves you just as much as I love you Little Sun,” Elia answered in a gentle tone, her hand still moving through her daughter's hair.

“Princess,” a voice suddenly said next to her, and Elia couldn’t suppress a roll of her eyes as her uncle again appeared out of nowhere. “You shouldn’t walk around alone,” he said; it seemed as if Lewyn had made it his personal mission to protect her since the day she’d come to King’s Landing — and Elia had to admit that she couldn’t thank the man enough for that. “He’s right sister, and you know it. It’s not very safe for our princess and her beautiful little daughter to walk around alone with all these brutes here… especially all the northerners, did you see them?” She would recognize Oberyn’s voice out of a thousand men, a small smirk appearing on her lips. “I mean, did you see them?” her brother continued. “Tall and broad, beards covering their faces while their skin is marked from harsh winters and hard work. Earlier I saw one of them catch two falling women with ease, one of them our dear A—” but Oberyn was interrupted. “My princess,” Ashara suddenly appeared and bowed. “Ara!” Rhaenys directly squealed next to her and made fast little steps towards the raven-haired beauty. Balerion mewed and jumped from Rhaenys arm, but the little girl didn’t care as she wrapped her arms around Ashara as well as she could — bringing a smile to the Martells’ faces.

“Hello Little Sun,” Ashara replied with her arms around Rhaenys and just slowly letting go of the little girl — moments like these gave Elia the feeling that Ashara would some day become a wonderful mother herself. “You appeared as if you’d been called for Ashara,” Oberyn suddenly said from next to Elia — and Elia knew this tone, teasing as if Ashara knew exactly what Oberyn had been about to say. “Oberyn, I’m a lady-in-waiting for your sister; it’s my duty to be with her when she wishes for my presence.” Even though Ashara was years younger, she had easily built a friendship with Elia and Oberyn — something that had at first surprised Elia — but with time the princess of Dorne had understood that the Lady Ashara of House Dayne was different from most other women she had ever met. Different in a good way; she was fiercely loyal, and protective of her friends and family.

“Balerion!” her daughter’s voice broke her from her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye Elia saw a flash of black disappearing between the legs of people in the crowd — and then a flash of orange behind it. “Rhaenys!” Without thinking Elia rushed after her daughter, leaving the others behind as they needed a moment to understand what was going on. Her uncle was the first to react, and he ran after Elia, Oberyn quickly catching up while Ashara was a bit slower thanks to her dress. “Rhaenys!” Elia called again and looked around as she stood in the center of the market, turning around as her uncle came to a halt next to her. “Elia,” her brother appeared next to her uncle and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Did you see where Rhaenys was running?” Elia shook her head, her eyes wide in shock as she looked into Oberyn’s. “No, I saw Balerion run away, and a second later she was already running after him,” Elia was angry at herself then, she should have picked up the kitten and made sure Balerion didn’t run away. “We need to find her Oberyn, she’s just a little girl alone here,” Elia whispered in a desperate tone.

Ashara was the last to arrive, muttering about dresses being impractical if she had to run;  Ashara would have been faster than any of them, but she needed to wear breeches and flat shoes if any for that. “We should spread out over the width of the market and keep walking in a single line, that way we have the biggest chance of finding her,” again Ashara showed her intelligence, her purple eyes already scanning the market. Quickly they all agreed to Ashara’s plan. Elia walked along the right side of the market, passing the merchants while Lewyn walked a few feet away from her more towards the center. Ashara walked a few feet from Lewyn, and finally Oberyn walked along the left line of merchants.

Elia forced a smile onto her lips even though she was close to breaking down and crying her eyes out: first the scene with Rhaegar, and now Rhaenys had run away, disappearing among all these strangers. Could this day get any worse? It already felt like one of the seven hells.

Then her eyes widened; she saw the orange of her daughter's dress. Her steps got quicker as she’d already waved Lewyn over to her, happy that her uncle was able to push the people out of their way. When they were closer she could hear her daughter’s light laughter and looked again in the direction; now she could see a man in the distance. He had dark brown hair that framed his long face and a full beard that covered the lower half of his face; Elia could see that the man was smiling while looking at her daughter. Her daughter was lifted up on one of the man’s arms while her hands played with his beard, and Balerion rested on his other arm  — the kitten who normally allowed no one besides Elia and Rhaenys to even touch him — was pressing his head against the northerner’s chest as if he’d known the man as long as he’d known Rhaenys and her. “We found her,” was all she whispered to her uncle as she took his hand and squeezed it, the anxiety leaving her body as she trusted the gut feeling telling her the northerner wouldn’t hurt her daughter.

It seemed as if her uncle had also given Ashara a sign, who in turn had informed Oberyn, as the other two soon appeared behind them. It was Oberyn who made a sound of interest. “It seems as if some northerners cross our path more often than others,” her brother mumbled, but Elia simply ignored it — ignored how Ashara thrust her Elbow into Oberyn's side while her purple eyes never once moved away from the scene in front of them. The northerner and little Rhaenys seemed to get along quite well, Rhaenys laughing more often than any day since she was born. “So where are your parents?” Elia could hear the northerner ask Rhaenys as they got closer. “I’m sure they’re already missing their Little Sun and sweet Balerion.” Where her heart had been shattered a few moments ago, it felt as if it was repairing itself just the tiniest bit then.

Neither the princess and her friends nor Eddard Stark had noticed they had been watched by a woman. The woman silently followed them, standing in the shadow of a merchant's tent as she watched them and listened to every exchanged word. The bright green eyes and golden hair had thankfully been hidden in the shadow cast by the merchant's tent, as they might have noticed her otherwise.

Eddard II

Market at Harrenhal

Robert had called rather loudly for him, asking for advice on a gift for Lyanna. It was nice to see his best friend had actually listened to him and was not considering anything southern as a gift for Lyanna;Ned would have been worried about his best friend's mental health if he had. After that they parted ways again, each of them strolling along the stands of the different merchants and checking out their products and the quality thereof.

One thing Ned noticed was that the market was already bustling, people forming crowds in front of the different merchants and their professions. Ned had already seen a few things that had gotten his interest, but the most interesting one he had just found: a pretty old book, the cover worn down from all the hands it must have gone through. The pages were yellowed, but it was still readable — at least for someone who was able to read the runes of the First Men. It was a book about the Kings of Winter, his ancestors who’d ruled over the north, and had probably been written before or shortly after the Targaryens conquered Westeros; this book had definitely gotten Ned’s attention.

Then he heard a soft mewl combined with a pull at his left trouser leg, getting him to look down toward his feet where he saw the small black kitten who’d tried to get his attention. “Hey, who are you?” Ned asked as he knelt down and one of his hands gently moved through the kitten’s soft black fur. “That Balerion, my kitten,” a high-pitched voice suddenly said, and when he looked up Ned saw a tiny girl with olive skin, shoulder length curly brown hair and warm brown eyes standing before him. “Balerion?” Ned knew Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon was called Balerion, “A very interesting name. And what’s your name?” The smile was still on his lips while his hand moved over the kitten's fur, feeling how Balerion pressed his head against his hand. “Mami and friends call me Little Sun…” Ned noticed that the little girl wanted to add something to her words, and gave her an encouraging smile. The little girl looked into his grey eyes with her brown ones before she simply returned it happily and said, “You, too.” Suddenly Ned felt a weight on his arm and something pulled at the arm of his shirt, when he looked down he saw the kitten lying on his lower arm and stretching out while the little girl gave an excited squeal. “Balerion likes you! He only ever lets mami and me touch him… and now you.”

Little Rhaenys had been so amazed by the development that she had stepped closer to Ned, slowly raising a little hand to pet Balerion. “Thank you for catching him, he ran away.” Ned looked down at the little girl again and smiled, earning himself a giggle from Rhaenys. “Hm? Do I have something on my face?” was his amused question at Rhaenys’s reaction. “You look funny…” little Rhaenys looked as if she was searching for the word in her mind before she simply pointed at his beard. “You mean my beard?” Ned asked, and Rhaenys nodded, her small hand suddenly touching his beard as her eyes got wide. “Soft!” She squealed in delight as she stepped even closer to Ned who couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

“Lift me too?” The question shocked Ned, but he simply couldn’t say no when he saw the girl look at him with big puppy eyes. “Sure,” was all he said as he moved his other arm so the little girl could sit down on his forearm before he stood up again. “Wow,” the girl said excitedly, “so high.” Yet the girl showed no fear at all, she was only happy to be on his arm, and she pressed herself against his chest while one of her hands moved through Balerion’s fur and the other played with his beard.

“So, where are your parents?” Ned asked Rhaenys, his deep voice gentle and warm. “I’m sure they’re already missing their Little Sun and sweet Balerion.” With warm grey eyes Ned looked at the girl who was sitting on his lower arm as he patiently waited for an answer, which came from a different person. “Sweet Balerion?” he heard a man say, “That kitten is the grouchiest cat I’ve ever met, and he calls him sweet? I told you northerners are an odd bunch.” When Ned looked up, little Rhaenys was already squealing again. “Mami! Tío Oby!” The little girl sounded so happy that again Ned couldn’t hold back a smile, as his eyes moved to the source of the voice. He saw a man with olive skin and black hair, whose eyes were dark and looked like they belonged on a viper. Next to the man stood a slender woman, she too had olive skin and curly brown hair that reached her shoulders. Her eyes got Ned’s attention as they were of such a dark brown they looked nearly black, but still showed so much warmth. “It seems like we found your mami Little Sun,” he said in a quiet tone to the happy girl who nodded eagerly in return, but then Ned’s eyes saw the knight with the white cape and silver armor — a Kingsguard — and the maid with the laughing purple eyes he’d caught mere moments ago together with the green-eyed blonde.

“Princess Elia,” Ned said as he bowed his head respectfully, for who else would walk around with a Kingsguard but without silver hair? “Forgive me, I didn’t know this was your daughter, Princess Rhaenys,” his deep voice was still warm but also respectful, not wanting to make them think he had any ill intentions. “I just wanted to go and search for her parents together with her,” but now Ned was interrupted by Rhaenys, the girl who was still sitting on his arm. “Balerion likes him, mami! First he petted him, and then Balerion jumped onto his arm on his own,” as if the kitten wanted to prove the little girl's point he licked over Ned’s hand before pressing his back and head against Ned’s chest while softly purring. Again a smile came onto Ned’s lips when he looked down at Rhaenys and Balerion. “I told you! Odd bun—” just when Ned looked up the man was interrupted by his sister, Princess Elia Targaryen. “Thank you for offering your help to a child in need Lord…” the princess said and Ned realized he hadn’t even introduced himself. “Eddard Stark,” he quickly said, “Second son of Lord Rickard Stark, Warden of the North.” Now he’d at least introduced himself as court demanded it, his attention completely on the princess; it was only Oberyn who noticed how a certain purple-eyed beauty couldn’t take her eyes off the northerner, and she had a dreamy smile on her lips.

“As I said, Lord Eddard, thank you for offering your help to a child in need. Not every man would act this way, especially with a child they didn’t know.” Elia bowed her head a little, a sign of her thanks that Eddard just returned. “Children are our future Princess Elia, a man who doesn’t help a child is no man at all,” Ned answered in his deep voice while Rhaenys again touched his beard, her hand moving through the soft hair. “Very wise words, my lord,” the princess answered with a small smile. “I hope to see and hear more of you during the tourney Lord Eddard, you seem like a good man.” With these words the princess stepped closer to Ned and her daughter. “But please excuse my daughter and I now, we’d planned to stroll through the market before sweet,” a small smirk appeared on the princess’s lips — a smirk only Ned could see as she reached for her daughter — “Balerion decided it would be a good idea to run away.” As if the kitten could understand them it raised its head and pressed it against Ned’s chest, as if demonstrating he hadn’t run away, but had sought Ned from the beginning. A low chuckle escaped the princess at the sight, and she gently took Rhaenys from Ned’s arms. “Thank you again Lord Eddard,” the kitten had gotten up and jumped from his arm onto the princess’s shoulder, “I wish you a wonderful day and a pleasant tourney.” With one last smile the princess turned around and walked to the group that had accompanied her; Rhaenys — and Balerion — were looking over her mother's shoulder directly at him, and she raised one of her little hands to wave at Ned, saying, “Bye,” loudly as Ned waved back.

With a smile Ned turned around after they departed into the crowd, and slowly walked towards the trees where Lyanna had disappeared.

Chapter Text

Lyanna II

Small Forest at Harrenhal

Lyanna had been surprised when she suddenly heard laughter in the distance. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she walked in the direction of the laughter, wanting to find out what was so funny. The closer Lyanna got, the more she had the feeling that the amusement was at someone’s expense — someone who needed help. Just like her father and Ned, she had a strong sense of justice — so strong that it kept her walking — until she stopped out of shock, unable to believe what she saw in front of her.

Three squires were throwing dirt at a man — no, her eyes weren’t deceiving her — it was a man on the ground who was clearly older than the squires, but wasn’t as tall as them. It took Lyanna a moment until she recognized the man’s clothing; he was a crannogman, one of her family’s bannermen. Anger flared up inside Lyanna again, the wolf blood running hot through her veins again as she looked around for something — anything — to help her defend the man. Finally her eyes found a stick, fallen from one of the trees and nearly looking like a sword. Determination was on Lyanna’s face when she picked up the stick and stepped out of the shadow in which the trees had hidden her.

“Leave him alone!” Lyanna screamed as soon as she stepped into the clearing, looking at the squires with the stick raised like a sword. “That’s one of my father’s bannermen!” She shouted again and walked closer to the squires. “Leave him alone or—” Lyanna didn’t get to say more as the squires just laughed and teased the young man on the ground about needing a girl to defend him. She could feel her blood boiling, and was ready to jump at the squires and beat them with the stick, but a strong hand on her shoulder made Lyanna stop, the squeeze gentle and reassuring.

“What’s going on here?” Lyanna would always recognize this voice — Ned’s voice — even though it was not warm this time; his voice was like her father’s lord voice: cold, with ice seeping through every word. Even though the words were said quietly, it felt as if they cut through the air, and Lyanna saw she wasn’t the only one affected as the squires looked up and towards them. “That’s one of my family's bannermen you’re attacking.” She felt Ned’s hand let go of her shoulder when her brother stepped around her, walking towards the squires.

Lyanna again noticed how similar Ned had become to their father. He was not walking with a bowed head; his back was straight and his shoulders showed their full breadth while he looked straight at the squires. “Your masters should have taught you better; such behaviour is unacceptable from squires,” Lyanna noticed that Ned had become an imposing figure — so imposing that Lyanna didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger. “I should give all three of you a beating right here for daring to behave like this while wanting to become knights,” her brother continued as he got even closer to the squires, who looked at him in fright. “And after that, I should give you a strapping with my belt so you won’t be able to sit for  days.” Lyanna knew Ned would never have said something like that in the past, and he especially wouldn’t have moved his hands so the broad and thick leather belt with the huge iron buckle was in clear view for the squires. Finally Ned stood in front of the crannogman, and he offered the other his hand while looking down; the three squires used this moment to bolt away, running into the trees to hide from the quiet wolf who’d bared his teeth at them a moment ago.

“Lord Reed,” Lyanna heard her brother say after he’d pulled the man up from the ground, “I hope you’re well and they’ve not caused too much damage?” Ned’s voice was back to his normal deep and gentle tone, as if he’d forgotten about the scene and the squires — or as if he didn’t care about them anymore. “My ki…” Lord Reed had moved to a bow, stopping himself just in time with a small cough. “My lord,” he said as he moved to stand with a straightened back even while wincing from the pain of doing so. “I have to thank you for your help, Lord Eddard.” Lyanna could see how her brother gave the man a light clap on his shoulder. “You’re under the protection of my family; if someone hurts you he will feel our wrath.” It impressed Lyanna how much Ned had changed, how he was handling this situation and leading the young lord towards her.

“Lady Lyanna,” Lord Reed again bowed and winced when he moved back to an upright position, “I also have to thank you. Not everyone would have been as courageous as you and stepped up against three squires,” a warm smile was on the young lord’s lips, and Lyanna gave him a nod with a small smile, but then she turned to Ned, taking a step closer to him before simply punching him with all the strength she could bring to bear. “How dare you scare me like that, Ned?! I thought I was all alone here, and then you just step out from wherever?!” she said with an angry voice; another punch followed when she looked at Ned and he simply smirked. “Why are you smirking about this?!” Lyanna said with a clearly annoyed tone. “This isn’t funny, you could’ve simply intervened before I did,” she finally said with a huff.

“My dear sister,” her brother then started. “I would have intervened before you if I’d arrived before you,” the grey eyes of her brother were so damn warm it was hard for Lyanna to stay angry with him. “When I thought you may have calmed down I went to the forest, wanting to check on you. Then I heard your scream and came here as quickly as I could,” Ned gave her a warm smile and Lyanna really did consider just hugging and forgiving him. “And I have to admit I’m very proud of you; you stepped up without fear and confronted those squires, even though they outnumbered you,” she could hear the pride in Ned’s voice, could see it in his eyes, and finally the anger was gone and Lya simply hugged her brother tightly.

“You know,” a voice could suddenly be heard, “I could teach you how to punch your brother so he winces instead of smirking.” Robert Baratheon, who else if not the Lord of the Stormlands would interrupt the moment she shared with her sweet brother Ned? With a sigh Lyanna let go of her brother and turned around to give the young lord a piece of her mind, but she was interrupted before she even could start. “She-wolfy brave!” Little Mya said happily while having a small stick in her hand and trying to hold it like Lyanna had held the bigger stick earlier, and Lyanna decided to make up for her earlier failure — maybe because seeing the brilliant blue eyes of Mya full of adoration had melted her heart a bit.

She slowly approached the girl, squatting down and resting on her heels. “And you will be just as brave one day Mya,” she gently whispered to the little girl, her hand moving through Mya’s black hair while the other hand gently wrapped around her little one, helping her to hold the stick in the correct way — just like a sword. “Brave like she-wolfy?” Mya asked with wide and excited blue eyes, looking directly into Lyanna’s grey eyes. “Yes, one day you can be as brave as the she-wolf, Mya,” Lyanna answered, her hand running through Mya’s coal black hair again. Seeing how happy these words and the little bit of attention from her made Mya, Lyanna was sure she now understood how the little girl had won her brother's heart.

“I think Howland and I should go see father,” Ned was next to her again, his hand this time moving through Mya’s hair while he looked at Lyanna. “Father should know what happened — what they did to Howland. It is unacceptable that squires attacked a bannerman and friend of House Stark.” That was the difference between she and Ned; she would have kept it a secret and taken care of the squires in some way, but Ned would report it to their father and ask how he could get justice for their bannerman.

“I will go with you, I saw the scene and can vow that you speak the truth,” Robert said, surprising Lyanna as she looked at him now. She had anticipated he would be more than happy to get a moment alone with her, but instead he was the loyal friend Ned had described in his letter. Lyanna had always thought Robert was only nice toward Ned when no women were around, but right now he showed he wouldn’t drop Ned for a moment with a woman. “Thank you Robert,” her brother answered, and Lyanna looked up, her eyes moving between the two men. “Uhm,” such  a sound from Robert made Lyanna look at him with raised brows. “If you want, you can stay here with Mya and play,” the man slowly started, one hand at the back of his head as if he was unsure about his words, “or I can take her with me; I understand if you’d be more comfortable with that,” Robert quickly added. “Or Mya and I can come with you all,” Lyanna finally offered as a compromise, her hand still wrapped around Mya’s as she looked at the girl with a small smile. “It will be much more fun in the camp than out here,” she told the girl in a gentle tone before slowly moving to stand up while Mya clearly didn’t want her to let go of her tiny hand. For a moment Lyanna was hesitant before she simply lifted the little girl and decided to carry Mya to her family’s camp.

Slowly the group set out, Robert walking next to her while little Mya kept looking at her with big blue eyes full of adoration. Ned and Howland led them, talking in a quiet tone so that Lyanna couldn’t even hear them.

Rickard II

Camp of House Stark and the North at Harrenhal

Rickard would have been surprised if ten minutes had passed between Jon Arryn leaving his tent and Ned suddenly appearing at the entrance; he had hoped to have a quiet moment alone with Lyarra, but the way Ned greeted him was enough for him to know it was about something important. “Lord Stark,” his son had said — always approaching him with his title, and as if Ned was no more than a knight or bannerman — so different from Brandon, who felt as if being the heir gave him the right to act against protocol. “Ned, what brings you back to my tent so early?” If Rickard was honest he had anticipated his son being out and about longer with Robert, and to now see him at the entrance of his tent was a real surprise.

The question was also the invitation Ned had waited for; Rickard knew that Ned would not enter if he didn’t make it clear he had time to listen. What surprised Rickard was that Lord Reed entered with his son, this time looking as if he’d been beaten by someone. “Lord Stark,” the young lord greeted him and bowed, wincing when he moved to an upright position again. “Lord Reed,” Rickard returned with a nod, “what happened to you?” The grey eyes of the old wolf moved over the crannogman, noticing the damage on his clothes, and that he was bleeding with bruises already appearing.

“I was attacked by three squires, my lord,” Howland Reed answered and looked at the ground before green eyes looked into grey ones. “They surprised me — I didn’t expect any attack on my way through the forest — and I was on the ground before I could do anything, and they beat me down,” even though Rickard’s face showed nothing he was surprised; the crannogmen were very skilled fighters in close combat, and he was sure Howland Reed could have defended himself against all three of them if he’d wanted to. “At some point your daughter, Lady Lyanna, came out of the forest and shouted at the squires, but they just laughed at her,” the young Lord continued his story, “and when Lady Lyanna was ready to attack them with a stick, it was Lord Eddard who stopped her. The squires were scared when he said he should beat them and give them a strapping with his belt,” the eyes of Rickard moved to Ned — he had not anticipated Ned would speak such threats.  “When he helped me up, the squires saw their chance and ran away. After that it was Lord Eddard who decided we should come to you with this,” with that the young Lord of House Reed finished his story, and Rickard continued looking at Ned, still surprised about the threat his son had made.

“It is true Lord Stark, I threatened those squires with a beating and a strapping,” Ned said without Rickard even asking him, “but I wouldn’t have done it. I only wanted them to be scared so they’d leave Lord Reed alone.” Rickard gave a slow nod to Ned’s words, and waited for him to continue. “I know that attacking a lord makes a punishment necessary, but I think it’s worth more to confront the knights those boys squire for.” Rickard raised a brow at his son’s words. “And how would you confront them, Ned?” he asked his son, clearly intrigued by it. “With an open challenge during the tournament, with the stated reason being they didn’t teach their squires the lessons they should have, otherwise their squires would have known to stay away from Lord Reed, and not to laugh at a member of House Stark,” as Ned finished, Rickard noticed Ned’s eyes had gotten cold and hard, not giving away his emotions. “If they take a squire, they should be ready to teach them, and not simply use them as servants. They didn’t; now they need to be taught a lesson in front of everyone.”

Rickard was impressed by his son’s words; he knew from Jon that Ned was a very mature and intelligent man, but even many intelligent men didn’t follow such a way of thinking. Most would simply punish the squires and leave the knights alone. For a moment Rickard stayed silent, thinking about the words until he gave a nod. “I agree Ned, the knights won’t understand their failures if the squires are punished, but if the knights themselves are punished in public, I think that will change their thinking,” the grey eyes moved to Howland Reed for a moment, taking in the damage done once more. “Still, I think we won’t be allowed to give them a beating in front of everyone: that might cause some trouble with the Houses they come from,” he added as his eyes moved back to Ned.

“I could participate in the melee and joust — I’m sure the knights will be participating in one or the other — and challenge them directly,” again Rickard was impressed as Ned gave him that answer rather quickly, not even thinking a minute about it. “That way I can give them a word of advice after I beat them,” another surprise for Rickard was to hear Ned being so sure of himself and his skills, not acting as if there was any possibility he might fail. Rickard slowly gave a nod, but he raised a hand. “If you participate in the melee and joust,” he started while his grey eyes locked onto Ned’s eyes — more similar to his own than any of his other children — again, “I want you to finish them. Show me and everyone else what you’ve learned; make House Stark and the North proud,” with this he extended his hand towards his son, waiting until he took it and noticing how strong Ned’s grip had become. “I promise I will do my best Lord Stark,” his son answered, and with those words Rickard shook his hand, knowing he would never break a promise. “Your best? Now I might expect a win,” Rickard answered, and with these words a small smile came to his lips as the handshake ended and he let go of Ned’s hand.

“If there is nothing more you need to talk about Ned, it would be nice if you could leave me alone with Lord Reed. I will make sure his wounds are taken care of, but first I need a quick word alone with him.” His son gave a nod, saying “As you wish,” before he left the tent. Now grey eyes looked onto dark green ones. “Three squires surprised you Lord Reed, and you were unable to defend yourself?” Rickard raised a brow while a smile came to the other man’s lips. “Lord Eddard would follow any order you gave him, Lord Stark, but now he has some additional motivation, and he wants to participate of his own free will,” the crannogman answered. “You really are a special man, Lord Reed,” was all Rickard could say with a smile before he called for a healer.

Chapter Text

Joanna I

Camp of House Lannister

Joanna had decided that a walk would help her think about everything Tywin had told her over the last hour. Her husband had always been ambitious, and he’d always wanted what was best for House Lannister — never caring about the feelings of others — but now it seemed as if everything had changed within the blink of an eye. Suddenly a second born son had become an interesting candidate for Cersei's hand — a second born son from the North. She really didn’t understand Tywin changing his mind; the North would bring barely anything of value into the marriage compared to what they could gain from other kingdoms — or even a royal match if the winds changed..

Deep in thought, Joanna hadn’t noticed where she was going; it was only when she saw the first grey banners in the distance that it became clear where her legs had carried her: the camp of House Stark. She hadn’t been standing there for even a minute when a man from the other camp walked towards her. When he got closer, she noticed that the man belonged to House Stark: not as a servant, guard or bannerman — this was a member of the family.

It didn’t take long until emerald green eyes looked into grey ones as the man now stood opposite her, and it was only then she realized how tall and broad he was. “Lady Lannister?” the young man asked Joanna in his deep voice — there was a certain warmth in the depth of his voice, she noted — and Joanna nodded. “Lord Eddard?” she asked the man in return — from all her husband had told her this man looked like the second born and not the firstborn. A nod came as an answer to her question, but the surprise visible in the younger man’s eyes made Joanna realize this may not have been her best idea: why should she be able to recognize a second born son? It really made no sense now that she thought about it. “Earlier I saw your father with a different young man at his side; it was a lucky guess that he might’ve been the older brother,” she said quickly, thinking on her feet. It was not a complete lie; she really had seen Rickard Stark and a young man who resembled him.

To her relief Eddard Stark gave a nod with a small smile. “I can imagine that my father had a talk with my brother,” he affirmed, and the lioness was sure she saw a bit of amusement playing in those grey eyes. “What brings you to my family's camp? Did you want to talk with my mother?” he continued. The name Lyarra Stark came directly to Joanna’s mind at the mention; the lady was the daughter of the wandering wolf, a man who was known throughout Westeros for his skills with the sword and the battles he’d fought. More than once she’d listened to tales about the man while she was still a child — but that was a topic for a different time. “Your mother is here?” Joanna asked instead, a smile on her lips. “I thought she would’ve stayed in Winterfell, since your father is here.” When Joanna had first looked into those grey eyes, she’d thought it would be easy to read them, but now she noticed they simply gave nothing away. “In all honesty, Lord Eddard, I was simply taking a walk while thinking, and my legs carried me to your family’s camp. I only noticed a moment before you came into my view,” she said. It impressed Joanna how the young man was able to keep everything hidden within his eyes, but it wouldn’t be good to dwell on that for too long. “Mayhaps you would escort me back to my husband’s tent? I would enjoy a nice talk rather than dwelling on my thoughts any longer,” she finished. From all her husband had told her, the young lord would never deny a lady the request of an escort back to her tent — and neither would he have any inappropriate thoughts while performing that duty.

Just as her husband's words had predicted, the man nodded and offered her his arm. “It would be my pleasure to escort you back to Lord Tywin’s tent, Lady Joanna,” the words were respectful and charming, and his behavior was perfect as if she’d personally taught him his manners at Casterly Rock. With a small smile she took his arm as they walked back through the tents. “Excuse the blunt question Lady Joanna,” she suddenly heard, and turned her head towards the young man, giving a nod for him to continue, “but could it be that your daughter is also here?” Joanna nodded, “Why yes, did you run into her?” The question left her lips while her mind was still pouring over Tywin's words from earlier; maybe this time her husband's plan would work out, and he’d get the husband he’d selected for their daughter, unlike his prior choice, Prince Rhaegar.

“Yes,” Eddard’s response pulled Joanna’s attention back to him. “Earlier at the market I saw two ladies. It seemed as if they’d been in an argument, as each was looking in a different direction. Thanks to this, they didn't see a breach in the path, and both stumbled over it,” Joanna’s eyes widened in shock. Had Cersei been hurt and no one had informed Tywin and her? “Don’t worry,” Ned said. She’d tried to read the man earlier, but now he’d read her solely from her reaction. “I was able to catch both ladies and make sure they didn’t fall to the ground,” he said, and again the northerner impressed Joanna. Most men would struggle to catch one lady wearing a dress like her daughter, but this man had caught two of them. “One of them had blonde hair and her eyes were the same shade of green as yours; that’s why I thought she might’ve been your daughter,” he finished. When would the northerner stop impressing her? It was a legitimate question in Joanna’s mind; the man had caught her daughter — his arm apparently wrapped around her — and he could still remember her eyes — the implication being that his eyes had made contact with Cersei’s rather than being glued to her bosom.

“Mayhaps you could tell me who was with her? We came here without any of her friends, and she didn’t tell me any of them would be coming here with their families,” Joanna now asked, intrigued, and simultaneously trying to maneuver the conversation away from Cersei for a moment, thus making it easier to sort her thoughts and hide her emotions. “The other lady was a bit taller than your daughter, with raven black hair and purple eyes,” Eddard told her, and Joanna simply couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped her lips. She noticed that the young man was looking at her and gave a slight wave. “Forgive me Lord Eddard,” she said, excusing her sudden outburst, “but you just described Ashara Dayne, Cersei’s arch enemy from all she’s told me about her time in King's Landing.” A smile was still on her lips when Eddard nodded. “And here I’d thought the two of them might actually be friends who’d had some silly argument about which of them wore the prettier dress,” the northerner again proved to her he could be a funny companion as she couldn’t hold back a smirk.

“You know Eddard, from all my daughter’s told me I think the two of them could actually be great friends if they weren’t so stubborn,” Joanna admitted with a smile still on her lips. “It’s something Cersei inherited from Tywin — and also from me, much to my shame. If we want something, we normally get it,” and Tywin wanted this man for his son-in-law. Joanna also slowly started to want that, sure he would be a good man for her daughter. “When Cersei was a child, she always wanted everything others had. When my husband got Jaime a sword, she wanted one too. Tywin didn’t even consider getting one for her, so one morning she snuck out of her room and to the sparring yard. To this day none of us knows where she hid, but the guard who opened the guardhouse with the sparring weapons didn’t notice her and left the door he’d opened unlocked. Cersei snuck in and got one of the wooden swords out of it: Tywin and I had just walked out onto our balcony, so we saw how she was dragging it behind her. Tywin shouted at her to stop, but Cersei wanted to prove her mettle and stood her ground, trying to lift the much too heavy wooden sword. She actually impressed me when she lifted it, but then the weight caused her to lose balance — from the balcony it looked as if the sword was dancing with her, pulling her from one side to the other, back and forth, circles and bends. And then little Cersei fell face first into the sand of the sparring yard. I couldn’t hold in my laughter, and even my lord husband had a smirk on his lips.”

Cersei II

Camp of House Lannister

So much had happened in not even two hours; Cersei had seen the real Rhaegar Targaryen, a man with no love for his child and wife, only caring about prophecies. Prophecies! Words said by people who claimed to have supernatural powers; words that were differently interpreted by every single person in Westeros, and often contradicted by prophecies made by other people. How a man like the crown prince had gotten so obsessed over them Cersei couldn’t understand.

Yet that wasn’t enough. Then she’d quite literally stumbled upon the complete opposite, Ned. First she’d really thought he was only a northern brute, catching her and Ashara to impress them and plant the first seed of interest — a warmth inside them that would make them come back to him again and again. Still, that wasn’t the last time she’d seen him; it wasn’t long after that when she’d stood hidden in the shadow of a merchant’s tent and watched Ned meet Princess Rhaenys.

Sure, Ned hadn’t known who the girl was, but he’d still been kind and sweet with her. During the time Cersei had spent in King’s Landing, she’d never heard little Rhaenys laugh so much. Even when the girl told him he looked funny, Ned hadn’t gotten angry, he only laughed and let the girl touch his beard. Cersei raised her brow when he suddenly stood there in the market, the little princess on one arm, and the meanest cat Cersei had ever seen on the other, a kitten who only let Elia and Rhaenys close normally — but the northerner seemed to be a special case as the kitten sought contact with him and wanted to be close to him, just like the little princess who clearly enjoyed being held on his arm.

Elia had arrived at the scene mere moments later, and the northerner proved to not only be a good man around children, but also to know the rules of court. It was then that Cersei considered she may have judged him a bit too harshly, that maybe she’d want her future husband to act with their children just as Ned had acted with the little princess.

Cersei's thoughts still dwelled on Ned when she entered her family’s camp. She considered talking with her mother about the things that had happened today — specifically about what she’d seen and why her mind suddenly seemed to not see only a complete savage in Ned anymore. Her mother would probably be able to help her understand her own mind, and why these things all confused her so much.

Having made a decision a smile came to Cersei’s lips as she walked towards her parents’ tent, passing a few of her father’s most loyal guards who seemed to be surprised by the smile. A moment later her smile disappeared while her eyes went wide: a few feet away from her she could see her mother and… Ned. She blinked thrice before she was sure she hadn’t imagined the scene in front of her. The Lioness of Casterly Rock was walking through the Lannister Camp with Ned — and her mother looked worried.

Had her mother and father heard about the incident earlier? Had they heard she’d fallen and the young man had caught her — how close she’d been to him, and her not immediately moving away from him as would’ve been appropriate, and how she’d nearly waved after him? She didn’t want to think about her father’s anger if she’d brought shame to House Lannister. It wasn’t her fault, Ashara had fallen just as she had, and was caught by Ned too — and Ashara had immediately been smitten with the man, seemingly falling in love at first sight, while she only was thankful he’d saved her from the embarrassment of falling into the dirt. She was Cersei Lannister, her parents should know she would never fall for the tricks of a northern savage.

Determined to find out what the two were talking about, Cersei moved closer to them and tried to stay hidden from their view while she could still see their faces. The worry had moved from her mother’s face, a smile coming onto her lips while she kept talking with Ned. Cersei couldn’t hear what they were talking about, and she felt that was driving her mad. What was so funny? Had Ned told her mother something funny — maybe about her fall? Had he told her mother she’d behaved like a spoiled brat in full view of everyone, and consequently hadn’t seen the rut in the road? She had to get closer to them. Immediately.

Thus she dared to risk more, moving into the view of the two people who talked as if they’d met each other before. It surprised Cersei; her mother had always taken her time with strangers, wanting to judge their characters before she would talk with them about anything funny — but this time it was an honest smile on her mother’s lips — something the lady of House Lannister rarely bestowed upon those outside their family. It was then that Cersei asked herself what was so special about Ned that every woman seemed to like him immediately? It seemed as if they found it easy to talk with him and genuinely enjoyed it. 

Was it maybe caused by the honest smile Ned had on his lips when Joanna started to tell him something — the smile that didn’t even disappear when Joanna was talking longer this time? Actually, she was talking so long Cersei was sure it was a story, one that seemed to amuse Ned immensely as his smile slowly got bigger. 

When Cersei was finally close enough to listen to them, her mother had just finished the story, and Cersei couldn’t hold herself back.

“When did you laugh and father smirk?” She asked her mother as she stepped forth from her hiding place, a second later her green eyes looking into her mother’s. “When you had your dance lesson with the sword,” Joanna immediately answered, and Cersei felt the heat rising to her cheeks as they got red. “Why are you telling Ned about that?” A second later Cersei would’ve liked to slap herself for saying this without thinking; she’d met Ned not long ago, and now called him by his nickname in front of her mother — and she could see how her mother raised a delicate brow, surprised that her daughter already called a man by a nickname so soon after meeting him.

“Ned?” Her mother asked, and Cersei could’ve sworn that a mischievous glint was in the  Lioness of Casterly Rock’s green eyes. “Eddard told me he met you earlier,” Cersei had to bite her lip to keep herself from saying anything at the sweet tone accompanying her mother’s words, as her mother continued, “that you and the lady Ashara had nearly fallen, but he was able to catch the both of you,” her mother finished, her eyes still looking into Cersei’s, daring Cersei to look away. “He didn’t tell me the two of you were already on a nickname basis,” now her mother finally looked away, into Ned’s grey eyes. “Oh, I think your lady daughter, Cersei, only caught it when Robert, Lord Baratheon, was calling for me and thought it was my name. Sadly, I forgot to introduce myself to the ladies in my haste,” Ned said, a smile still on his lips, and Cersei was speechless when her mother just smiled back and nodded. “Well, from what you’ve told me, my daughter also failed to introduce herself, quite contrary to what I taught her,” her mother finished, and Cersei’s face got even redder while the smile on Eddard Stark's lips got even bigger.

Cersei curtsied perfectly — she’d never dare shame her mother by doing anything less — and extended her right hand, her green eyes meeting Ned’s grey ones as she spoke, “I’m pleased to meet you, my lord. I’m Cersei Lannister, daughter of Tywin and Joanna Lannister.” Ned smiled warmly at her as he spoke, “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Lannister. I am Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard and Lyarra Stark,” before he bowed to take her hand, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. Cersei was almost grateful for her earlier embarrassment then, as she wasn’t sure she could’ve lived down her cheeks rapidly transitioning from her usual complexion to the flaming red she was sure they wore now.

Ned — despite the formal introduction, she couldn’t think of him in any other way — released her hand, rising back to an upright posture. Cersei fought to regain her composure, but that struggle began anew when she saw her mother’s face. There was a familiar glint in her mother’s eyes — a glint that told Cersei the Lioness of Casterly Rock was planning something. Still, what could the lady of House Lannister possibly be planning involving the second son of House Stark?

Cersei felt a void form in the pit of her stomach, her emotions in turmoil after all she’d witnessed and experienced over the last few hours. She couldn’t fathom her mother’s plans, and she hadn’t felt so helpless — or so inadequate — since she’d been a little girl. She was pulled from her thoughts by her mother’s elegant voice, “We’d be honored if you’d join us for dinner, Lord Eddard, but of course we’d understand if you have prior commitments.” Cersei didn’t know whether Ned should be thankful to — or terrified of — her mother then.

Chapter Text

Ashara II

Market at Harrenhal, Path to Castle, Elia’s Chamber

Ashara walked at a steady pace through the market at Harrenhal, lost in her thoughts as the royal family approached the castle where Lord Whent had arranged quarters for them. In the last few hours, she’d experienced more excitement than she was used to in a matter of months, and she was still in the process of sorting her feelings on most of those events. She’d run into her erstwhile rival in beauty, Cersei Lannister. The two of them had thrown barbs at one another while walking through the market as if Cersei had never left. This had proven to be their undoing, each of them so frustrated with the other they could no longer bear looking at one another, and so they’d continued walking without looking where they were going, when disaster struck… or at least would’ve struck had it not been averted.

Even now, her heart began racing when she thought of Ned. His body had been firm and strong, his scent intoxicating to her, and his eyes mesmerizing. Ashara had never believed in love at first sight, considering it a fancy only fit for vapid girls with their heads stuck in songs and stories, but now she wasn’t so confident in her conviction. Love was perhaps not the right word, but in their first meeting, Ned had definitely left a very strong — and very favorable — impression upon her. The thought that he might have left a similar impression upon her rival had made Ashara’s blood boil, and she hadn’t been able to hold herself back from staking her claim to Cersei immediately after Ned had left. In hindsight she regretted stating it in the form of a contest to her rival; she knew Cersei likely wasn’t even interested in Ned — she was far too haughty to be interested in anyone but Rhaegar, in Ashara’s opinion — but she’d be compelled to try and get his interest if only to triumph over Ashara. Well, if it had to be a contest, it was a contest Ashara was determined to win.

The potential embarrassment of publicly falling into the dirt hadn’t been the only consequence of her encounter, though. Oberyn had made it clear he’d witnessed the whole thing, and he’d practically broken his neck to tease Ashara about it and no doubt tell Elia all about it when his bait led her to prompt him. Ashara had arrived just in time to cut him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs, but with Oberyn she knew it was only a matter of time until he revealed everything. Elia was like a sister to Ashara, and it was a combination of embarrassment at her own behavior and wanting to keep something so new and warm close to her chest for a while that made her anxious about Elia finding out.

Ashara’s triumphant daydreaming accompanied by butterflies had been interrupted by sheer terror when Rhaenys had gone missing. Ashara loved Rhaenys as if she were her own daughter — anyone with a heart would instantly fall in love with the Little Sun who brightened the lives of everyone who knew her — and when Elia had told her Rhaenys was missing, Ashara had immediately feared the worst. A little girl — a princess no less — lost in a market at the largest tournament Westeros had ever known had the potential for disaster in any number of ways, and Ashara felt guilty she’d been reflecting upon her encounter with Ned rather than watching Rhaenys.

She’d cursed her dress and heels as she trailed behind the others; in breeches and flat shoes — or even bare feet — she’d have run circles around them all, just as she had when they were children in the water gardens. Still, she’d done her best to calm herself and think clearly, and ultimately come up with the plan to spread into an arc while searching for Rhaenys. Fortunately, their fears had turned out to be for naught, as Rhaenys had been safely resting upon Ned’s arm when they’d found her. If Ashara had believed Ned gallant when he’d caught her, that had been nothing to how she felt when she’d watched him interact with Rhaenys. If she’d been acting like a fool in love for the past few hours, seeing Ned be more of a father to Rhaenys than Rhaegar ever had — and how bitter it made Ashara that Rhaenys seemed happier then than she’d been in some time — had put her over the moon, and caused the butterflies in her stomach to go into overdrive.

Unable to help herself, she’d pictured Ned sitting in a plush chair before the hearth in a great castle — Winterfell, perhaps, or at least her mental image of it — holding a beautiful boy, a miniature version of Ned with some of her beauty, but with the Stark face and Ned’s grey eyes. She’f felt her heart melt at the sight, and had forced herself out of her thoughts before she started seeing daughters with her own eyes. She’d exhaled sharply, digging her nails slightly into her palms to try and calm herself down. She’d told herself her daydreams could wait: Rhaenys had been more important in that moment.

Rhaenys had seemed instantly taken with Ned, and he with her. Moreover, Rhaenys’ kitten Balerion — who normally wouldn’t let anyone but Rhaenys and Elia even get near him — had seemed to yearn for Ned’s touch and had pressed into him. Moreover, if Ashara recalled correctly, hadn’t Elia said Balerion ran off and Rhaenys chased him, this being the impetus for the whole incident? It was said that animals were excellent judges of character, but was it possible Balerion had sensed Ned somehow, and his running off was a deliberate act to seek out Ned? While it sounded mad, Ashara supposed it would make her daydreaming even worse, as having the affection of the grumpiest kitten in the realm was only another point in Ned’s favor.

When Ashara looked up, they’d reached the castle, and Ashara blinked a few times to get her bearings. She supposed it wasn’t healthy to be stuck in one’s head so much — gods knew how those stuffy old maesters didn’t go mad, or mayhaps they did? — and she accompanied Elia’s family into the castle, letting the guards lead them down the hallways to Elia’s chamber. Elia sat in her chair before the hearth, cradling Rhaenys against her chest. Balerion was nuzzled into Rhaenys’s chest as Rhaenys pet him, and it warmed Ashara’s heart to see Rhaenys so happy.

She was pulled from her musing when Elia spoke, “Rhaenys, why don’t you go play with tío Oby for a while? Mamí needs to talk to Ara.” Oberyn wore an amused smirk as he knelt down, “Are you hungry, solecito? You’ve had a trying afternoon; let’s go get you something to eat.” Balerion hissed at Oberyn, then jumped off Rhaenys’s lap and stalked out of the room as she squealed and ran to Oberyn, the two of them leaving the room together.

Ashara found herself nervous. What was so important that Elia needed to talk to her about it alone? Did Elia blame Ashara for not watching Rhaenys well enough? Had she heard about Ashara’s publicly falling, from Oberyn — despite Ashara’s efforts to prevent him telling her — or otherwise? She looked at Elia as she took the adjacent chair, sinking into its comfort as she spoke, “Is something wrong, my princess?” It was a few moments before Elia spoke, “I think Lord Stark will make a very fine husband for some lucky lady someday, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ashara’s heart raced, a mixture of panic and puzzlement running through her. How much did Elia know? Yet if Elia had no indicator of Ashara’s feelings, why would she open with that question? It took every ounce of control Ashara had learned in King’s Landing to keep from blushing as she responded neutrally, “He seems like a good man.” Ashara’s thoughts turned somewhat sour then.

Elia was right, but would Lord Stark not be pursuing matches for Ned that best benefited the North? It turned her stomach to think of another woman marrying Ned, but what could she do? An alliance with Starfall wasn’t all that beneficial to the North. She returned her attention to Elia, listening intently. A tiny spark of hope blossomed in Ashara’s heart. If Elia was broaching the subject, mayhaps she had some ideas for Ashara to win Ned’s heart, and mayhaps Ashara winning Ned’s heart might lead to Ned pressing his father for a betrothal. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. Having a princess of the royal family as a friend had its advantages.

Elia II

Market at Harrenhal, Path to Castle, Elia’s Chamber

Elia walked slowly down the market path as they headed toward the castle wherein — although it was expected and he couldn’t possibly do otherwise — Lord Whent had graciously accommodated the royal family. She held her daughter’s hand tightly, her heart still not having completely calmed itself from the fright that gripped her immediate family — blood and otherwise. She had no intention of letting Rhaenys run off alone again anytime soon; while her precious daughter was no worse for wear — and in fact all of them had seemed to benefit from the incident — that hadn’t lessened the fear or guilt Elia felt. She’d tried to be the best mother she could, but she’d lost her solecito — for however brief a time — and she felt she may never forgive herself for that.

Elia’s life had changed drastically since her marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen. While she was the envy of every unattached noblewoman in the Seven Kingdoms — and many of the attached ones, she was sure — that did nothing to make her marriage a happy one. Elia had done her duty, just as her mother had wanted. She’d married Rhaegar without complaint, despite her private reservations about him and his supposed perfection. She’d risked her life — just as thousands of other women throughout history had — bringing a beautiful daughter into the world for him, and yet his matter-of-fact reaction had broken and disgusted her more than she’d ever thought possible.

Elia had ensured she never conceived another child with him, despite the risk that put her in. Privately, Elia doubted her husband would pull his nose out of his books long enough to notice; he hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to do his duty as it was, his visits to her bedchamber as infrequent as they were hurried and unsatisfying. It was his treatment of Rhaenys that made Elia grow to hate her marriage, and later her husband. Rhaenys asking Elia if her kepa didn’t like her had ignited an all-consuming mixture of sorrow and rage within her, and though she’d put on a brave face and a bright smile for her daughter — and had done her best to reassure Rhaenys that Rhaegar was simply busy — Elia didn’t know what to do.

When thinking back to the events of the past few hours, Elia’s confusion grew even more, and she’d call her emotional state tempestuous were she inclined to be charitable. She recalled the fear and relief alike, and how something deep within her told her that her daughter would be safe with her recent northern acquaintance. It filled Elia with shame, regret, and hope alike to see how happy Rhaenys had been with Lord Eddard. Was she so terrible a mother that a stranger could make Rhaenys happier in minutes than Elia had seen her in months? What would her and her daughter’s lives have been like if her mother had betrothed her to Lord Eddard Stark rather than Prince Rhaegar Targaryen? The thought made Elia bitter, and it took all her strength and training to suppress the tears that threatened to fall at the contrast.

Despite Elia’s thoughts, the ink was dry. She had married Rhaegar Targaryen and given him a daughter, and Eddard Stark was an eligible lord - but not for her. He’d proven to her what a wonderful father he’d be someday in mere minutes with Rhaenys, and Rhaenys seemed very attached to him: she’d talked about Eddard constantly since they’d departed his company. Elia owed Lord Eddard a debt for protecting her daughter in a crowd of strangers, as well as for giving her more happiness. As a princess of both Dorne and the royal family, she felt the least she could do to repay that debt was to ensure Lord Eddard’s happiness in turn.

When she’d taken Lady Ashara Dayne on as her handmaiden, Lady Adara had privately requested Elia look after her daughter’s interests while at court, and to keep her eyes and ears open in the hope she might find Ashara a suitable match. She’d given Elia full authority to arrange a match on behalf of Ashara and House Dayne, though little had come of their arrangement thus far. In all the years Elia had known her, she could confidently say she hadn’t found a better match for Lady Ashara Dayne than Lord Eddard Stark. By the same token, Ashara was by far the best woman Elia knew. Ashara was the most beautiful woman in the realm, and she was kind, honest, as well as fiercely loyal to and protective of those who managed to work their way into her heart; any man would be lucky to have her. Elia wanted Lord Eddard to be happy in return for his treatment of her daughter, and she couldn’t think of anything better she could do for him than arranging a match with Lady Ashara.

Elia had a course of action in mind, but she wasn’t cruel, and she wouldn’t force either of them into anything they didn’t want. She needed to talk to Ashara alone, to try and get a measure of how Ashara would feel about the match without letting Ashara know what Elia was planning, as if Ashara proved amenable to the match, her knowing that Elia sought it might give her false hope should Elia’s plan fail. Life had taught Elia that plans almost never worked out completely as intended, so she felt it was better to keep her plans close to her chest until she was ready to put them into action.

The family entered the castle at last, and finally Elia’s chamber. Elia took her chosen seat by the hearth, and pulled Rhaenys into her lap, holding her close with a warm smile as she watched Rhaenys play with her kitten. The fact that said kitten had run to Lord Eddard Stark like a moth drawn to a flame only made Elia’s conviction that she’d made the right choice for Ashara’s husband stronger. “Rhaenys, why don’t you go play with tío Oby for a while? Mamí needs to talk to Ara.” Oberyn wore an amused smirk as he knelt down, “Are you hungry, solecito? You’ve had a trying afternoon; let’s go get you something to eat.” Balerion hissed at Oberyn, then jumped off Rhaenys’s lap and stalked out of the room as she squealed and ran to Oberyn, the two of them leaving the room together.

Elia waited until Ashara took a seat across from her. Though Ashara’s face gave nothing away, Elia thought she detected a hint of nervousness. What cause did Ashara have to be nervous? Did she think Elia blamed her for Rhaenys’s escapade? Silly woman! “Is something wrong, my princess?” Ashara asked. Elia pondered her response, thinking on the best way to begin the discussion she’d planned.  “I think Lord Stark will make a very fine husband for some lucky lady someday, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked. Elia watched Ashara’s face intently for tells; it was difficult to perceive Ashara’s subtle reaction, but Elia was skilled in the game and had been Ashara’s friend for years. That Ashara had to actively suppress her reaction was telling in and of itself. “He seems like a good man,” Ashara responded neutrally, but Elia wasn’t fooled.

“He does, and ‘sweet’,” Elia couldn’t suppress a smirk, “Balerion seemingly seeking him out and reveling in his touch corroborates that assumption, if I’m any judge of such things. Likewise, his treatment of Rhaenys proves he’ll be a wonderful father someday,” Elia said. She continued to observe Ashara intently, waiting for her friend and handmaiden to respond. “I agree with your assessment, but why ask me about N—Lord Stark?” Ashara said. Elia had noticed Ashara’s slip… that sound didn’t match Eddard, so did Ashara perhaps know a nickname he went by? Did Elia detect hints of both desperation and hope in that question? Both questions were interesting, and only raised other questions.

“He seems to be the man of the hour, does he not? He protected and cared for our solecito, and I owe him a debt of gratitude for that. This is the largest tournament in the history of Westeros, so I can’t help pondering on his marriage prospects, and I’m sure Lord and Lady Stark feel the same way,” she finished. Ashara shifted, though she tried to hide it. “It’s as you say, but I don’t see what that has to do with me,” Ashara responded, again unable to suppress her reaction completely. “You’re my closest friend, and I consider you a sister — blood relation or not — so I merely thought you might have some insight to help me find a match for Lord Stark,” Elia answered.

Ashara squirmed a little, obviously trying to compose herself, and Elia gave her the time to do so, patiently awaiting her friend’s response. Finally, Ashara responded, “Lord Stark is of the North, and whatever qualities he has, most ladies would likely be unable to adapt to a marriage with him, whether the cause for the inability would be the climate, customs, or even the faith of the North. Because of this, considering a match for Lord Stark will require careful consideration, and I’d wager the list of prospects will be a short one. Can you give me time to think on it, my princess?” Elia nodded her assent. “Thank you for helping me in this matter, my friend. You must be hungry; feel free to go get something to eat. I’ll be right behind you, I just need to rest a bit.”

Ashara looked at her seriously, seemingly trying to decide if she was going to argue with Elia on the subject of her health and whether Ashara would leave her alone. Thankfully, Ashara seemingly thought better of it, standing and bowing, “Thank you, my princess,” she said before turning to leave, her head turning as a beautiful purple eye shone at Elia over her left shoulder before she faced forward again and exited the chamber, finally leaving Elia alone with her thoughts. Elia had been somewhat less robust than Oberyn ever since they’d been children together, but her condition had worsened dramatically since she’d moved to King’s Landing upon her marriage to Rhaegar. Yet her absence from King’s Landing and the journey to Harrenhal had her feeling better, despite the rigors of travel and chasing after her solecito. This bore thinking about, as the coincidences struck Elia as suspicious.

However, that wasn’t important for now. Elia had wanted to get a read on her handmaiden to assess her feelings about Lord Eddard, and she’d gotten even more than she’d bargained for. Ashara clearly had some sort of feelings about Lord Eddard, else she wouldn’t have displayed the reactions she had. Even if Ashara was too stubborn to outright tell Elia her feelings, Elia had what she needed; while she wasn’t positive, she was now confident that Lady Ashara Dayne would be happy with a match to Lord Eddard Stark, and based on everything she knew about Lord Eddard, he was a kind and dutiful man who’d marry whomever his father told him to, and would treat Ashara like a queen if she could arrange the match.

Elia had work to do, and she knew just where and with whom to begin.

Chapter Text

Oberyn I

Elia’s Chamber, Stark Camp

Oberyn felt coming to this tourney had been one of the best decisions he’d made in his entire life, as the tourney seemed to be providing an endless source of entertainment for him. There were the usual things you looked forward to at tourneys: the melee, the joust, drinking, nights of passion. Oberyn had always been a man of boiling blood and burning passions, and he loved each of these more than his fair share — much to his family’s chagrin more often than not. Even so, it was the unexpected developments that were truly keeping things so interesting for Oberyn.

Oberyn had been walking through the market, stopping at the various stalls to pore over the merchants’ wares. Oberyn had admittedly been impressed with what he’d found, even as well-traveled as he was; this tourney truly was the largest one in the history of the continent, so he’d supposed it made a sort of sense that the merchants would bring their best and rarest wares. He’d purchased a collection of trinkets and toys, jewels that caught his eye, daggers and other small weapons easily carried about. The people of Westeros could say what they would of Oberyn Martell, but let none dare say he didn’t love his daughters, or his family.

During his shopping his eyes had caught a flash of a familiar sight, long raven black hair above a beautiful purple dress, but Lady Ashara Dayne hadn’t been alone; she was accompanied by a woman crowned in golden locks over a red and gold dress. Based on rumors and hearsay, Oberyn would wager quite a lot on this being Lady Cersei Lannister, Ashara’s supposed rival. Oberyn privately scoffed as his Dornish pride flared; he hadn’t seen Cersei Lannister, but he personally doubted anyone but his sister Elia could rival Ashara in beauty. Even so, Oberyn crept along behind the two ladies, certain that not only could he witness one of their rumored ‘fights,’ but also that it would be extremely entertaining for him.

The spectacle had ended up surpassing all of Oberyn’s expectations, and had proved to be far more entertaining than he could’ve imagined. He’d gotten to see the trading of barbs he’d wanted, and he’d been unable to keep a smirk from his lips as he felt Ashara had gotten the better of her rival. Still, the best had yet to come. The ladies had snipped at one another until they petulantly turned away from one another even as they kept walking, neither seeing the breach in the path until they tripped over it. Oberyn was certain they’d both been terribly embarrassed at their folly, but further  indignity had fortunately been avoided as a large northerner with a long face, grey eyes, brown hair, and a neat beard — these features and the colors he wore marked him a Stark if Oberyn were to guess — had caught each lady with a single arm, as if they had fallen into a stone wall.

Oberyn had found himself begrudgingly impressed at the feat of strength, as well as the northerner’s calm demeanor and stoicism in close proximity to two of the most beautiful ladies in the Seven Kingdoms, as if holding two beauties was the most natural thing in the world. Oberyn supposed it was, but that was for a man like himself; he didn’t expect the mysterious northerner was so worldly as himself. However, what had made Oberyn’s day had been the ladies’ reactions. For as long as he’d known her, Ashara Dayne had been an unassailable wall; she was beauty and dignity personified — even when her bare feet swept her through the Dornish sands to handily win races at the Water Gardens. Dozens if not hundreds of men had tried to woo her, but as far as Oberyn was aware, she’d never given any of them a second glance.

Yet it appeared that Ashara Dayne’s wall had formed a crack, as Oberyn would recognize a smitten woman anywhere. He watched her reaction with glee, engraving it into his memory in anticipation of teasing her with it later. It appeared Cersei Lannister’s interest had been piqued as well — though she’d been trying very hard to hide it. Oberyn watched as the mysterious northerner assured himself that both ladies were unharmed, before he — his name, or nickname, was Ned, it appeared — left the ladies to their own devices in answer to his friend’s beckon. Oberyn had been surprised yet again when Ashara had immediately staked her claim over Ned to Cersei; perhaps this northerner had made even more of an impression upon her than Oberyn had first thought.

He’d remained in relative concealment as the ladies had gone their separate ways, and returned to his chamber in Harrenhal to distribute his purchases to his beloved daughters. Later that day, he’d accompanied Elia and Rhaenys shopping, and he’d been as terrified as — if not more than — the rest of them upon their solecito’s disappearance. Oberyn had spent years in Essos and around its culture of slavery, so he’d been far more aware than the rest of his family that there were worse fates than death awaiting kidnapped ladies in this world. His blood had boiled in anger at the thought: Dorne would wage war against anyone who dared harm their princess’s child, and Oberyn himself would lead the charge.

Oberyn had been surprised when they’d found Rhaenys — as well as her notoriously cantankerous kitten, who seemed to harbor a special brand of resentment for Oberyn even above his feelings on most people — in the arms of the mysterious northerner Oberyn had witnessed catch the ladies earlier that day. Oberyn’s feelings on his brother-by-law were best left unsaid, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Elia had stopped Oberyn from doing something impetuous and stupid in defense of her and Rhaenys more than once. It was nice to see that some men knew how to properly treat a child, and Oberyn’s respect for the northerner grew yet again as he watched the man care for a child who was a stranger to him more than her own father ever had.

Oberyn had observed the interactions with a smile on his face, and though his attempts to tease Ashara had been thwarted — both by Ashara herself and by the crisis Balerion had caused — his entertainment had continued. Ashara Dayne hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the northerner. She’d mooned over him like a lovesick girl, and Oberyn had noticed — even if his beloved sister hadn’t, her gaze not leaving the northerner and her daughter. Oberyn had watched as the northerner saw them, recognized the kingsguard, and pieced together the identities of his sister and her daughter. He had given them the proper respect, and had introduced himself as Lord Eddard Stark. Oberyn’s glee only grew as he realized that the unattainable Dornish beauty had seemingly fallen for a second son.

Oberyn had accompanied his family back to Harrenhal, and had just finished a meal with Rhaenys and his daughters when a servant had informed him of Elia’s summons. He left Rhaenys with Ashara, who had entered just after the servant, as he walked through the hallways to his sister’s chamber, knocking at the door and waiting for her acknowledgement before he entered, seeing Elia seated in her favored chair before the hearth. He took a seat in the adjacent chair, his eyes on hers as he smiled warmly at her. “Rhaenys has been fed. I left her with Ashara when I received your summons. It’s not exactly typical for you to summon me to talk alone, sweet sister. We recovered Rhaenys, and she seems happier than she’s been in a while, so that begs the question: what’s wrong?”

Elia remained silent for a while — long enough for Oberyn to get slightly uncomfortable — before she finally spoke. “I need your help Oberyn, and for once I need you to be completely serious. This is a serious matter, and I have no time for your usual japes and games. I’m involving you in a plan, and if you jeopardize that plan with your usual antics, I will hide Balerion’s catnip in your smallclothes and encourage Rhaenys to sleep in your room for a week — not only because having my daughter around means you wouldn’t dare engage in your usual… escapades, but also because where Rhaenys sleeps, Balerion sleeps. Do I make myself clear?” Oberyn’s eyes widened, and he gulped against his will, his thoughts drifting to the horrible images Elia’s threat had conjured. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, before he finally responded, “Yes Elia, though I’m a little hurt at your insinuations; you know I can be serious when the situation calls for it.”

Elia sighed, leaning back against her chair. “I’m sorry Oberyn, but I had to stress the importance of this undertaking. When I took Ashara on as my handmaiden, her mother Lady Adara privately asked me to look after Ashara’s interests while she was at court, and she wanted me to keep my eyes and ears open in the hope I might find her a suitable match. She also gave me full authority to arrange a match for Ashara on behalf of Ashara and House Dayne. This arrangement has meant nothing until now, as you yourself should be well aware Ashara hasn’t shown any man the slightest hint of interest,” she said, smirking as she finished, and Oberyn repressed a scowl at the thought of how his one attempt to flirt with Ashara had turned out. “Today, Lord Eddard Stark protected my daughter in a crowd of strangers, and also made her happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. For this reason, I owe Lord Eddard a debt, and as he’s the first man I’ve ever met I consider worthy of Ashara’s hand, it spawned a plan in my mind to make a match between the two of them. So I questioned Ashara about Lord Eddard, and asked for her help considering his marriage prospects. She tried to remain neutral and act uninterested, but based on her reactions — though she tried to hide them — she has some sort of feelings about him; it’s enough for me to suspect she wouldn’t be unhappy in a marriage toward him at any rate, and that’s what I needed to proceed with my plan,” she finished.

Oberyn shook in his chair in an effort to suppress the laughter that threatened to bubble up from his chest. Elia was decidedly not pleased. “Oberyn! I just told you this is serious!” she snapped at him, and Oberyn held up his hands in a defensive gesture, continuing to shake as he tried to calm himself. “Forgive me Elia,” he began, “but based on my observations, what you’ve just said is akin to saying Balerion doesn’t like me: it’s the understatement of the century,” he paused, waiting for her acknowledgement. Elia raised a perfectly-groomed brow and motioned for him to continue.

“When I was in the market today, I saw Ashara walking — and heatedly arguing — with Lady Cersei Lannister,” he began — while Elia rolled her eyes as if exasperated with a child, seemingly knowing what was coming — “so heatedly in fact that neither of them noticed a breach in the path, and both of them tripped over it. But before they could reach the ground, a northerner — whom I now know is Lord Eddard Stark, nicknamed Ned by his friend — caught each of them with a single arm. Still, Ashara’s reaction is the best part. She seemed enraptured, and after he left she immediately staked her claim on him to Cersei; I think she may have made a contest between the two of them the way she phrased it — and I’m willing to wager she regrets that now — but that’s not all. You were too focused on Eddard and Rhaenys, but I noticed: during the entire time Lord Eddard held Rhaenys, Ashara couldn’t take her eyes off him. You should’ve seen the look on her face Elia; it was as if her head was in the clouds, and she was trapped in her own fantasies,” he finished.

Elia’s eyes widened, and she gave him a beaming smile. “Oberyn, that’s wonderful! This new information only makes my plan more important, so finally we come to you: I need you to deliver a letter I’ve written to Lord Rickard Stark in the camp of House Stark. Take Rhaenys with you, as she hasn’t stopped talking about Lord Eddard since she met him; I think she’d be happy to see him, and the feeling should be mutual if I don’t miss my guess. The letter is an invitation for Lord Rickard and his wife to meet with me here, whereupon I will attempt to negotiate a betrothal between Lord Eddard and Ashara. I’d also like you to subtly attempt to ferret out whether Lord Eddard would be amenable to the match. By all accounts he’s a dutiful man who would marry whatever match his father picked without complaint, but I’d prefer he actively wanted the match as well,” Elia finished.

Oberyn nodded, reaching forth to take Elia’s letter, sealed with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. “Of course, sweet sister: you can count on me,” he said, standing and bowing before taking his leave, returning to the great hall and finding Rhaenys and Ashara. He sat down next to her, ruffling Rhaenys’s hair affectionately. “Hola solecito, would you like to go see Lord Stark?” Rhaenys only gave Oberyn a puzzled look, tilting her head adorably. “He means Ned, the northerner Balerion likes, solecito,” Ashara chimed in helpfully. Rhaenys squealed happily, and Balarion was pulled from his resting place beside Rhaenys as she snuggled him into her chest. “Come Balerion, we go see Nappa!” Oberyn smiled as he stood, taking Rhaenys’s hand. “I’m coming too, Rhaenys is liable to get up to too much mischief with only you as a chaperone,” Ashara said. “Oh, is that why?” he began, inwardly smirking at the teasing opportunities this would give him even while Ashara glared at him, “Suit yourself, my lady,” as the three of them arranged for an escort of guards and left Harrenhal, heading toward the camp of House Stark.

Oberyn rode up to the wheelhouse and dismounted, opening the door and extending his hand to help Rhaenys and Ashara exit the wheelhouse. They were approached by a guard, and Oberyn met him with a nod. “I’m Prince Oberyn Martell; Lady Ashara Dayne and I are escorting Princess Rhaenys Targaryen to see Lord Eddard Stark,” he said confidently. The guard only nodded, sending another guard off at a run, no doubt to fetch Lord Eddard, before he spoke, “Follow me my princess,” with a smile at Rhaenys. Rhaenys looked around with wide eyes — as excitable as any child should be — Balerion still snuggled into her chest. The three of them followed the guard to a large tent near the center of the camp. As they approached the tent, Balerion squirmed out of Rhaenys’s arms and darted forth. Oberyn’s eyes followed Balerion as he ran straight to Lord Eddard Stark, followed closely by a squealing Rhaenys yelling, “Nappa!” as she jumped into the chest of a kneeling Lord Stark. Lord Stark looked confused at the name Rhaenys called him, before smiling warmly as he puzzled out her childish meaning and cradled her against him.

“What brings you and sweet Balerion here, Little Sun?” Lord Eddard asked as he stood, Rhaenys clinging to his chest while Balerion had leaped up onto his left shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. Rhaenys excitedly babbled, “Play with me, Balerion, and Ara?” as she stroked Lord Eddard’s beard, eyes widened excitedly. Lord Eddard only chuckled amiably, “Of course, Little Sun. I’d be delighted,” he said. It was only then that Oberyn noticed the dreamy expression on Ashara’s face, and he nudged her in the ribs with his elbow to bring her out of her reverie. The two of them approached, and Oberyn extended his hand, “Prince Oberyn Martell, a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance Lord Stark,” he said, shaking Lord Eddard’s hand as he extended it and responded, “Likewise, my prince,” before turning and noticing Ashara. His eyes widened in familiarity as he recognized her, but before he could speak Ashara stepped up to him, performing a perfect curtsy. She kept her eyes on Lord Eddard’s as she extended her right hand, saying, “Lady Ashara Dayne; I didn’t get the opportunity to thank you earlier — so thank you — and it’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Lord Stark.” Lord Eddard replied, “Think nothing of it, and the pleasure is all mine, Lady Dayne,” before bowing to place a kiss upon her knuckles. It was only Oberyn who noticed the effort she was putting forth to maintain her noble mask, but even then there was a crack in it as she fought to maintain her composure.

With the introductions made, Oberyn returned his attention to Lord Eddard and Rhaenys as she directed them all like loyal subjects, and he watched them play for a while, thinking to himself that their solecito truly had Lord Eddard wrapped around her little finger. He found himself thinking that any woman who convinced Rhaenys to be in her corner when pursuing Lord Eddard would have a powerful ally. Still, he had business to attend to, and he couldn’t watch them all day. He found a guard as he spoke, “I have a letter from Princess Elia Targaryen for Lord Rickard Stark, could you take me to him?” The guard nodded, responding, “This way, my prince,” as he led Oberyn to the lord’s tent in the center of the camp. “Wait here, my prince,” as he entered, before momentarily opening the flap and motioning Oberyn inside.

He entered the tent, seeing an older lord and lady seated at the table over a meal. He approached them, bowing before rising upright as he said, “I’m Prince Oberyn Martell; I have a letter for Lord Rickard Stark from my sister, Princess Elia Targaryen,” and he proffered Elia’s letter toward Lord Stark. Lord Stark took the letter and read it, the contents unfamiliar to Oberyn. Lady Stark rose and read the letter over her husband’s shoulder, and the two of them nodded to one another, before looking to Oberyn as Lord Rickard spoke, “Tell Princess Elia that my wife and I would be delighted to meet with in the castle for dinner tonight, if that’s convenient for her.” Oberyn nodded and smiled, “Thank you Lord and Lady Stark. I suppose I should inform my sister as quickly as possible so she can have an appropriate feast prepared. Lady Ashara Dayne and I escorted Princess Rhaenys here to see Lord Eddard, so I would appreciate it if you could escort the two of them back to Harrenhal when you come this evening.” He waited for Lord Stark to nod before taking his leave.

He approached Ashara, and Rhaenys noticed him, “Tío Oby!” she squealed excitedly, running to hug him. He ruffled her hair affectionately, smiling down at her, “Hola solecito, I need to go tell your mamí Lord Rickard’s response. Can you be a good girl and stay with Ara and Lord Eddard until Lord and Lady Stark escort the two of you back to the castle when they come to see your mamí?” Rhaenys nodded excitedly, babbling, “Nappa come too?” she asked as she turned to Lord Eddard. Lord Eddard knelt before her, smiling as he spoke softly, “I would be delighted to have dinner with your family tomorrow night if they’d have me, Little Sun, but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement tonight. Lady Joanna Lannister has invited me to dine with her family tonight, and I’ve already accepted.” Rhaenys looked disappointed, but she quickly hid it and smiled at Lord Eddard, “Okay Nappa! You come tomorrow!” before hugging Lord Eddard tightly.

Oberyn noticed Ashara widen her eyes and clench her fists as she heard Lord Eddard’s words, suppressing a smirk as he approached her. “I trust you’ll watch after our solecito and her Nappa?” Ashara glared reproachfully at him, and Oberyn could tell she was considering stomping his foot — or worse — in retaliation for his teasing, the only thing holding her back being the presence of Lord Eddard. “Of course I will, my prince, it’s my duty as the princess’s handmaiden.” Oberyn nodded to her as he turned to take his leave, a guard escorting him back to his horse. He rode back to the castle, intent on telling Elia the favorable news.

Lyarra I

Camp of House Stark

The invitation from the princess had been a surprise for Lyarra: getting invited to dinner by the wife of the crown prince was not something that happened every day. Even her husband seemed to be very surprised, sitting in his chair and holding the letter in his hand while saying nothing. Lyarra had seen a lot of things in her life, but her husband being speechless was new to her.

She slowly approached him — looking over his shoulder again — and read the letter a second time, searching for any hints or remarks she might have missed earlier. She found nothing. Maybe her husband was covering something that might give her a clue? With that thought she took the letter from Rickard and walked away, looking at every inch of the parchment before reading the letter once more.

“To Lord Rickard Stark,

I request you and your lady wife meet with me at your earliest convenience to discuss a matter important to both our houses. It is my hope that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement for both our houses, and that our kingdoms will continue to prosper as a result. I look forward to your response, and hope for a favorable one.

Elia Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone”

Nothing; she found nothing in the letter that should make her husband speechless. “I wonder,” her husband suddenly said as he got up from his chair. “Rickard?” She asked, but her husband had already opened the entrance of their tent and went outside. A sigh left her lips when she moved to follow him. As soon as she stepped outside she bumped into her husband's back. “It can’t be,” she heard him say before he walked towards Ned and whom she assumed to be Lady Ashara and Princess Rhaenys. Lyarra thought she knew her husband, but this was just confusing. He approached Ned with long strides just to stop a few steps from them. She slowly followed him — looking around and nodding at some guards with a small smile — before her husband’s bellowing laugh pulled her attention — and that of the guards — back to him.

“Oh it really can’t be,” it was clear to Lyarra that her husband was amused about something, but for everyone else it might sound as if he was shocked or even angry. It seemed it was no different for Lady Ashara Dayne, as the young woman rose from the ground, her eyes wide — and Lyarra was sure she saw a bit of fear in them — but her son followed just as quickly, moving a bit in front of the young lady as if he was ready to protect her from his own father.

Lyarra watched how her husband took a few more steps forward before stopping directly in front of Ned and Lady Ashara. Her attention was then pulled to Ned — seeing how his arm moved – and she couldn’t stop herself from moving down along his arm with her eyes. A small smile came to her lips as she saw how her son had wrapped his hand around Lady Ashara’s smaller one — probably giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure her, and to show her he was on her side. Lyarra would never have expected Ned would have a romantic liaison before he was betrothed: he was too honorable to risk breaking a woman’s heart in the event his father wouldn’t betroth him to her. However, there was another reason: Ned simply didn’t notice how women swooned over him and wanted his attention – something Lyarra had noticed when he’d visited them at Winterfell four years ago. Another interesting thing she noticed was that the girls in Winterfell seemed to be more attracted to Ned than Brandon; it was then she thought it may be for the better that Ned didn’t notice: Lyarra didn’t even want to think about the trouble it would bring if he’d noticed and was more like Brandon.

“You’re the daughter of Uther, aren’t you?” Rickards booming voice pulled Lyarra out of her thoughts and her attention back to him. She’d rarely heard her husband this excited and amused at the same time; Lyarra shook her head and approached the group. “Rickard,” she said in a scolding but playful tone, “don’t you see that you’re frightening Lady Ashara?” Another shake of her head followed, accompanied by a tutting sound before Lyarra looked at the young lady with a smile on her lips. The first thing she noticed were Lady Ashara’s purple eyes, and she was sure those eyes had captured Ned’s when the two of them had first met – maybe they’d med when Jon took the boys with him to King’s Landing, and the two had been exchanging letters ever since – she couldn’t hold back a smile at the thought of what a sweet a story that would be. “Forgive my husband, sometimes he forgets his manners,” she gave Rickard a light and playful swat before making a curtsy towards Lady Ashara, “I’m Lady Lyarra Stark, Ned’s mother,” Lyarra didn’t really pay attention to Lady Ashara’s curtsy, her eyes drawn to the joined hands of the young couple, and she noticed how Ned was drawing small circles on the back of Ashara’s hand with his thumb. “And I’m Lord Rickard Stark, husband of Lyarra and father of Ned,” it seemed as if her husband had found his manners again as he gave a small bow, his arm suddenly sneaking around Lyarra’s waist. “We are happy to meet you Lady Ashara,” Lyarra said before slowly kneeling down, “and you my princess,” she finished with a bow. “Nappa mamí?” the little princess asked, and Lyarra saw how she looked at Ned, “Nappa papí?” she added before Ned could answer. Nappa — the name the princess called her son — confused Lyarra a bit, but still it made her smile as it simply sounded sweet and innocent. A low chuckle escaped her son’s lips before he knelt down and nodded. “Yes Little Sun, these are my parents,” Ned said. Ned’s tone reminded Lyarra of Rickard, of how he’d spoken to their children when they’d been so young, but then the little girl squealed, and she felt tiny arms wrapped around her neck.

“You’re Uther’s daughter, aren’t you?” Lyarra heard her husband ask more quietly, and she could imagine the grin on his face from his tone alone. “Yes,” the young woman slowly answered, “my father is Uther Dayne, Lord of Starfall.” Her husband laughed that booming laugh again. “Forgive me,” she heard him say between laughs, “it’s just… so many years have passed since I met your father, and now I meet you here with my son. The gods like to play funny games with us,” he finished. At least her husband gave an explanation and didn’t keep confusing them all even more. Lyarra moved her attention back to Princess Rhaenys, running a hand through her hair with a smile.

“Lord Stark,” a guard appeared next to her husband, giving a small bow. “Your presence is requested,” he said. Lyarra noticed how the guard handed a small piece of parchment to her husband, who read it silently before giving a nod. “I’ll be there in a moment,” was all he said to the guard, who went back to whomever was waiting. “This is sadly an important matter that I must attend to immediately; I’m sure we’ll be able to talk later. Princess Rhaenys,” Lyarra looked down at the little girl, who let go of her and now looked up at her husband. “Bye Nappa papí?” the little girl asked in her sweet and innocent voice, and as soon as her husband nodded the little girl was hugging his leg. It surprised her — and she was sure it also surprised Rickard – but she also noticed the small smile that appeared on her husband's lips as he moved a hand gently through the princess’s hair. “I’ll see you later princess,” the gentle tone of her husband's voice brought back so many memories that made Lyarra smile while she watched the princess let go of her husband's leg before Rickard left with a smile still on his lips.

Rhaenys was walking back towards her, and that was when Lyarra got an idea. “Why don’t you two go and spend some time together?” She asked Ned and Ashara with a smile. “But I must take care of princess Rhaenys,” was the answer from the young lady, and Lyarra was sure that she heard a bit of disappointment in her soft voice. “Oh don’t you worry. I will take care of our little princess and her sweet kitten,” as if on command Rhaenys stood next to her with a big smile as the black kitten also slowly approached them. “Off you two go, and don’t worry. I raised four wolf pups,” with that Lyarra stood up and lifted Rhaenys with her, settling the little princess against her hip before walking off in the other direction. “Bye Nappa, bye Ara,” Lyarra heard the little girl say loudly before Rhaenys’s attention was already back on her when she started to tell the princess stories about the North and her family.

Chapter Text

Eddard III

Stark Camp, Market at Harrenhal

Ned had been pleasantly surprised when a guard had informed him he had visitors. He’d barely stepped out of his tent when he’d been hit by a princess-shaped missile and felt a familiar black kitten pressing into him. He’d been very confused when Princess Rhaenys greeted him as ‘Nappa.’ What sort of name was that? It was only when he’d thought about it that he’d realized it must have been a child’s way of combining ‘Ned’ and ‘papa.’ Ned had smiled warmly at the princess as he cradled her against him, but inwardly he’d been even more confused than before. The princess already had a real father in Rhaegar Targaryen. Why would she have been calling another man anything close to ‘papa?’ A question for another time, perhaps; Ned had retreated from his thoughts.

It had brightened Ned’s day to learn the little princess had come to see him. She truly was a Little Sun, brightening and warming all those around her. He’d cradled her against his chest — Balerion on his shoulder nuzzling into his neck — as introductions were made. Both Rhaenys’s escorts had been surprising in their own ways. Prince Oberyn Martell had quite the reputation; he was a deadly warrior, a notorious womanizer with four bastard daughters, and was rumored to be capricious, charming, and deadly. He was also rumored to be adept in the use of poisons as his epithet — the Red Viper — would suggest. However, it was his female companion that surprised Ned more, his eyes widening in recognition when he saw her.

He’d prevented two beautiful ladies from falling earlier that day. He’d first been introduced to Lady Cersei, at the prompting of her mother Lady Joanna. He’d been pleasantly surprised how kind Lady Joanna was, and how… normal… Lady Cersei seemed, at least in her mother’s presence. He was due to attend a dinner with the Lannister family later, and while he was still apprehensive about it — for after all, he was only a second son, and Lord Tywin had a reputation for many things that would put a fright in any man of sound mind — the pleasant time he’d spent with Lady Joanna and Lady Cersei helped to blunt his unease somewhat. Still, he had other concerns more pressing than his pending dinner plans with the Lannisters.

The other lady had introduced herself as Lady Ashara Dayne. Both she and Lady Cersei were renowned for their beauty throughout Westeros, but after having met each of them, Ned could confidently assert the rumors he’d heard did neither of them justice. Ned felt like a bumbling buffoon whenever he was in the presence of either lady, as if the path he trod upon was narrow and treacherous, overlooking an endless abyss. He felt the slightest misstep would have him fall to his death — or make a fool of himself and bring shame to House Stark, if he were being less melodramatic. Ned supposed all he could do was his best. He was only a second son — never meant to be interacting with such beautiful ladies — but it seemed the gods had a sense of humor, even if at times like those Ned felt it was at his expense.

Ned had been pulled from his thoughts as Rhaenys squirmed against his chest, calling him to put her down for the play she’d requested. Ned hadn’t been able to hold back a smile, but he’d held back amusement as the princess effortlessly sucked he and Ashara into her game. Lady Ashara Dayne might be a renowned beauty, but it was evident Rhaenys had no fear of her, and also that Lady Ashara loved Rhaenys as if she were her own daughter — though Ned supposed he had no room to talk, as he doted on Rhaenys just as much if not more. The three of them had played for a while, and it wasn’t until Prince Oberyn had returned that Ned had realized he’d been gone at all. He’d watched the princess hug her uncle, and Prince Oberyn had announced his departure. Ned had felt his heart breaking as he’d had to refuse the princess her request and he’d seen the disappointment upon her face, but him suggesting tomorrow night to dine with her family if they’d have him seemed to perk her up and she hugged him tightly.

The three of them had resumed their play, and it wasn’t until he heard his father’s voice that Ned was pulled from his thoughts. He’d heard his father’s exclamation, and had seen his father approaching Lady Ashara. He’d seen the fear on Lady Ashara’s face, and on instinct he’d placed himself in front of her, taking her smaller hand within his. He’d squeezed her hand gently, tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of it, trying to reassure her and encourage her. Ned hadn’t known what possessed his father, but Lady Ashara had done nothing wrong, and Ned would never have let any harm come to her: he would have fought his father if it had come to it. His father had cleared the air when he’d made it known his acquaintance with Lady Ashara’s father.

The smile on Ned’s face had widened when he’d witnessed Princess Rhaenys instantly take to — and take in — his parents. Ned had watched as his father was called away, Rhaenys’s goodbye warming his heart. His eyes had widened and he’d blinked in surprise as his mother had suggested he and Ashara spend some time together alone. Despite Ashara’s protest, his mother had made it clear she was having none of it, and so Ned found himself alone with Lady Ashara Dayne. Ned nearly froze in panic. He had no experience entertaining ladies, and he had no idea what to suggest to occupy a lady’s time.

Ned offered her his left arm, saying softly, “Would you like a tour of our camp, my lady?” He felt it was an incredibly weak offering, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Ashara smiled, and his heart began to race at the sight of a smile on her face and those enchanting purple eyes. She took his arm, “It would be a pleasure my lord,” she said. The two of them walked at a steady pace through the camp, Ned feeling out of place and awkward accompanying a lady of such beauty and grace. “I wish to apologize to you my lady. I know I’m only a second son — and not the most comely man besides — but my mother can be very stubborn, and she tends to get what she wants. I’m sorry you got roped into one of her whims,” he finished.

Ned kept his gaze straight ahead of them, afraid of what reaction he might see on her lovely face: pity, contempt, amusement… any of them may cause a grievous wound. It was a few moments before he heard her mellifluous voice. “Think nothing of it my lord. Thus far, you’ve made for delightful company, and I have no objection at all to your mother’s… whim… as you called it,” she said. This brought Ned some relief, and as they walked through the camp, he attempted to make conversation. “You’ve met my mother and father. There is also my older brother, Brandon, my younger brother, Benjen, and my sister, Lyanna. What about your family, my lady?”

Ashara remained silent for a few moments before she finally responded, “My father is Lord Uther Dayne, my mother is Lady Adara Dayne, and my brother is Arthur Dayne.” Ned’s eyes widened, turning to her, “The Sword of the Morning?” Ashara rolled her eyes and smiled good naturedly; Ned supposed she must get that question a lot, and he felt some chagrin. “You men and your swords. Yes, my brother Arthur is the Sword of the Morning: the wielder of my family’s ancestral sword, Dawn, and he’s a Kingsguard now,” she said, seeming unhappy as she added the last bit. Ned supposed it might be a decision everyone in House Dayne wasn’t happy with.

A breeze blew through the camp, and Ashara pressed herself more snugly against Ned’s arm. He smiled reassuringly at her as they continued walking through the Stark camp. Ned fumbled for something else to ask her, but it was Lady Ashara who broke the silence, “What’s it like living in Winterfell and the North, my lord?” Ned inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, as her question was one he was capable of answering comfortably. “The North is a hard place, and I like to believe it forges strong people. Northerners are more gruff, honest, opinionated — and often very blunt — but we’re also genuine and straightforward. Southern politics is practically anathema to the northern way of life. Southerners might call us barbarians, but is punching someone in the face really worse than politically scheming to stab them in the back?” he asked.

Before she could answer, he continued, “Winterfell is a very old, very large castle, and I’m proud to call it my home. The North can be very cold, but Winterfell was built atop hot springs, and the water from the hot springs is channeled through pipes inside the walls, so the castle is actually quite warm. The godswood is my favorite place in Winterfell; it’s ancient — and I’ll admit quite eerie at times — but I always feel at peace when I’m there,” he finished, raising his free hand to rub the back of his head, slightly abashed, “I’m sorry for babbling my lady, but I do love my home,” he said as the two of them walked more around the perimeter of the camp. Despite the whole incident stemming from one of his mother’s whims, Ned found Lady Ashara’s company pleasant, and he found himself relaxing more as he talked about his home.

They walked in silence for a few moments, before he felt Lady Ashara squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You’ve done nothing for which you should apologize, my lord. You only answered my question, and I found your answers fascinating. Dorne is likewise a harsh place, and I likewise like to believe it forges hard people. Those of my House are Stony Dornish, and I grew up in Starfall, in the western Red Mountains, on an isle in the Torrentine. We also have a lovely godswood at Starfall, and as we are descended from the First Men and Andals, we still worship the old gods, at least privately. The culture of much of Dorne is more… liberal… than the rest of Westeros, but Stony Dornish largely share the cultural norms of Westeros at large,” she concluded.

The two of them continued their circle, approaching their starting point, as Lady Ashara began, “Lord Eddard—”  but she was interrupted, “Ned. My friends and family call me Ned,” he interjected. She smiled at him, purple eyes meeting grey ones, and he felt his heart skip a beat once again. She continued, “Only if you’ll call me Ashara,” only for him to nod in response. “The North does sound cold, but I imagine your people have found ways to keep warm,” pressing more firmly against his arm, and he wondered if southerners thought it was cold here and now… surely not, could they? Still, what other reason would a woman like Ashara have to press into a second son like Ned?

They completed their circuit of the Stark camp and started approaching the center once more. The sun was starting to sink into the western sky as they reached the lord’s tent. Ashara released Ned’s arm, and he turned toward her, gently taking her right hand in his. “It has been lovely meeting you, Ashara,” he said. “The feeling is mutual, Ned. I am thankful for your mother’s whims,” she said as she smiled up at him. He smiled back, eyes on hers. “As enjoyable as your company has been, I have a prior engagement I must attend,” he said as he bowed, raising her hand and placing a gentle kiss upon the backs of her knuckles. “Goodnight, Ashara,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “Goodnight, Ned,” she replied, as he turned and made his way to his tent to make himself ready for dinner.

When he entered his tent, he found that a tub had already been carried into his tent. Many servants followed him inside, carrying buckets full of hot water, and they poured enough water to bathe before bowing and taking their leave. Ned removed his clothes, carefully laying them on an empty chair, before he collected a washing cloth, a scrubbing brush, a bar of soap, a razor, a mirror, and a shaving bowl complete with a brush made from badger hair. He sank into the tub, washing himself thoroughly, and trying to keep his thoughts from drifting to a certain purple-eyed beauty: it wouldn’t be proper to think of her while having dinner with the Lannisters, and was liable to cause him embarrassment besides. After washing and rinsing, he used his brush to build a lather of soap, before lathering his beard using the brush and using the razor to try and groom his beard, giving it as neat a trim as he could, before rinsing his face. He soaked in the tub for a few minutes before getting up and drying himself with a large towel.

He pulled on a pair of black breeches, slipped into a pair of stockings, and pulled his nicest pair of black boots onto his feet. He looped his black leather belt through the loops on the breeches, and was about to pull on a shirt when he heard the rustling of cloth. He turned to the entrance of his tent, his eyes widening as they landed on Ashara. He flushed a bit at the thought of her seeing him not fully dressed, but managed to choke out, “Ashara? What are you doing here?” while he turned away from her and hastily pulled on a white shirt, tucking it into his breeches before buckling his belt, finally turning to face her. Ashara looked nervous, but she finally responded, “I came to say goodbye; your mother insisted.” Ned shook his head before smiling ruefully. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. It’s hardly appropriate… but I’m glad I get to say goodbye to you as well, Ashara.”

He pulled on his finest black coat to go over his shirt, then his finest cloak in the colors of House Stark. He offered her his left arm, intending to escort her to his horse. It seemed Ashara had other plans, as she gripped his arm and pulled him down toward her, brushing her lips lightly over his before pulling away. It was difficult to tell in the dim light of his tent, but he thought he saw a flush on her cheeks to match the one he was sure he wore on his own, and her purple eyes seemed to glow. Before he could say anything, she quickly rushed out, “Goodnight and goodbye, Ned,” and turned to leave rapidly. Ned stood stunned for a few moments, and by the time he collected himself and made his way outside the tent, she was gone, and he had no idea in which direction.

Ned walked through the camp toward his horse, his thoughts on Ashara and what had transpired between them. He was incredibly confused. Perhaps she’d tripped, and he hadn’t seen it? He couldn’t think of a reason she’d want to initiate a kiss with a second son like him — especially after knowing one another so short a time. His thoughts were in turmoil, as he felt he’d brought shame to House Stark, and arguably dishonored a noble lady. He mounted his horse before turning toward the entrance of their camp, trying to banish Ashara from his mind. He had a dinner to attend, and he only hoped he came out of it in one piece. He felt that what Ashara had just done would make it even more difficult for him to survive.

Arthur I

Chamber of the Kingsguard

Finally, his shift as guard was over and he could sit down and eat something. When Arthur had been a little boy, he hadn’t been able to imagine a greater honor than being a member of the Kingsguard. Since he’d become one of them, his thoughts had drastically changed. It was not the life in celibacy; Arthur really didn’t care about it, as so far he hadn’t met a woman or a man that woke any feelings inside of him besides friendship, unlike some of his sworn brothers. He couldn’t stop his thoughts traveling to Ser Barristan Selmy, a man celebrated as a hero by most people in Westeros. At first Arthur hadn’t been any different: it had been an honor to serve besides Barristan the Bold, to spar with him and learn from his skills. Ser Barristan really was one of the finest swordsmen in Westeros — probably one of the few who would be a challenge for Arthur himself. 

Still, all the respect Arthur had held for the older knight had vanished when Ashara had come to King’s Landing. At first Arthur really had thought he’d only imagined things, but with every shift he’d had to spend with Barristan it became clearer and clearer that the man was lusting after his younger sister — a girl who was not even half his age. Many men would call Arthur a hypocrite — telling him an older man should be allowed to have a young girl that made him happy — but he was simply disgusted by it. Really, if a man was three to five years older than a woman it was fine, but Barristan was nearly 30 name days older than Ashara; what sane man would be okay with that fate for his sister? The old knight had even had the balls to ask him about Ashara — not only normal things, but also private ones — as if he really believed he had a chance with her and wanted to court her. It had taken all of Arthur’s self-control to keep from drawing Dawn and killing the man that day.

A sigh escaped Arthur’s lips while he shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Since he’d joined the Kingsguard he’d changed a lot; maybe he’d been too young when he’d taken his vow. He’d just become an adult, and he’d thought he knew everything about the world — that the battles would harden him and make him a man — but if he was honest, he’d still been green behind his ears. Joining the Kingsguard at such a young age, it had felt as if he was finally getting the respect he felt he deserved for everything he’d done. He could still remember the argument he’d had with his father, thinking that his father was just jealous because he’d never been asked to join the Kingsguard — because he was not the Sword of the Morning — but now Arthur understood that his father had only wanted to be a good father, to warn him and stop him from making a stupid decision. Arthur had left the next day, and he hadn’t spoken with his father since. He’d ignored the letters his father had sent him.

“It’s time to change that,” Arthur thought to himself as he got up from the chair to search for parchment, a quill, and some ink. It was time to apologize to his father, to ask the man to forgive the stupidity of a child who’d thought himself a man. Arthur also wanted to slap himself; they were a family, and he’d practicaly spat on it.

After a few minutes, Arthur sat down at the small table in the shared chamber and looked at the blank parchment. He looked at it for what felt like an eternity without writing a single word. As gifted as Arthur was with a sword, he had no talent for words.

“Dear Father,

I know too much time has passed since we last spoke. With all my heart I ask you to forgive me for the lack of communication. As your son, I hope that you can forgive me for a young man’s stupidity. Right now I have a break, and I’ve been thinking back to better times. Do you still remember the time when you taught me how to write? I was never very skilled with words — somehow it didn’t come to me as naturally as handling a sword — but you didn’t give up. Not once did you get angry at or annoyed with me, you always sat down with me again and tried a different approach to the subject. To this day I can’t thank you enough for never giving up on me.

As a young boy I didn’t understand how hard it must be to not give up. I was a boy full of energy, dreams, and hopes. Weren’t those beautiful times in Starfall? When you chased after me and little Ashara while mother watched and couldn’t hold back her laughter whenever you nearly caught us, but we escaped again. It was just a game, but I’m so thankful you played it with us.

I like to think back to those times, you and mother have gifted us with so many wonderful memories: memories that will brighten up every darkness that may come into our lives.

While I’m at it, Ashara is doing well, and she’s taking her duties very seriously. So far I haven’t once heard a complaint from Princess Elia. She really has grown up into a beautiful young woman — so beautiful that I’m sure you and mother will be speechless when you finally see her again. Still,  she’s not just beautiful. She’s well-mannered and respectful, perfectly prepared for the next step in her life. Have you and mother already begun to look for a husband for her? I think she’s now at the right age to find a suitable husband and marry.

Forgive me, I know this is none of my business; I’m sure you and mother will make the right decision on this matter.

Give mother a hug and kiss from me, and tell her that I miss her; I miss both of you.

I hope that I’ll be able to send you another letter soon, but you know I take my duties very seriously, and moments of spare time are rare.

Your Son,

Arthur”

Arthur sighed when he finished the letter; writing it was harder than any exercise he’d ever done. He supposed he could have gone to Ashara or Elia, but he couldn’t get them involved in this. He couldn’t risk either of them getting hurt because of his decision. All he could hope was that his father understood the message.

With a small smile he folded the letter — sealing it with his personal seal — before slipping it into a hidden pocket of his Kingsguard armor, mere seconds before the chamber’s door opened and Lewyn Martell stepped inside. “Arthur,” the older man greeted him with a nod, and moved to the pitcher of water that servants had brought them earlier. “Were you able to rest a bit during your break? It really is surprisingly hot for this time of the year,” as if to prove his words the former prince of Dorne took a huge gulp from a cup he’d filled with water. “I mean, we’re both Dornish and can handle this, but I can’t imagine how it must feel for the people from the North,” now this caught Arthur’s attention, and he looked at the other men with interest. “People from the North? Northerners have come to the tourney?” That really was a surprise for Arthur; his father had told him Rickard Stark didn’t think highly of tournaments, calling them ‘playing at war’ — and Uther Dayne completely agreed on that matter.

Maybe both men agreed on that matter because they’d seen war, seen the blood spill and the families destroyed. His father rarely talked about the war, but once he’d overheard how the guards had talked about his father, how he’d saved one of them during a battle. As soon as the guards had noticed him they’d stopped talking and continued on their patrol, not answering when he’d asked them to tell him more.

“Yes, I saw multiple banners of houses from the North; the Starks really have gotten a lot of their bannermen to follow them here,” Lewyn told him after another gulp, and Arthur was pulled from his thoughts. “I met Lord Eddard Stark earlier, he is Lord Rickard’s second son,” Lewyn began as he sat down, “a good lad, respectful and kind. Balerion and Rhaenys seemed to like him a lot.” A sigh escaped Lewyn’s lips before he laughed. “He actually reminded me of his father back when we were young; he just looked so similar to him, even the eyes were of the same shade of grey — a grey I’ve never before and never again seen.” Arthur blinked then, “You know Lord Stark?” he asked in a really surprised tone. “Yes,” it was clear to hear that Lewyn thought Arthur would know that, “Your father, Rickard, and I served together in the war; we fought side by side and even shared a tent.” Arthur was speechless, only capable of nodding. “We were very young back then; Rickard was not the lord of House Stark, as his father was still alive. People were surprised about the three of us, but we just got along very well.”

Just as Lewyn finished the door opened again and the White Bull came inside. “Hellish weather outside,” the Lord Commander said in a gruff tone before sitting down. “Rhaegar is looking for you Arthur; he’s waiting in his solar,” it was information and an order at the same time; Arthur knew that delaying would cause trouble with Ser Hightower. “I’m already on my way to the prince,” he answered and got up, straightening his uniform and armor before taking Dawn and leaving the room. The letter rested safely in the hidden pocket, waiting to be sent to his father later.

Chapter Text

Joanna II

Lannister Camp, Private Dinner with the Lannisters of Casterly Rock

She made her way to her daughter’s tent, opening the flap to find Cersei standing before her mirror getting ready. Cersei wore a beautiful red dress with gold accents bearing the lion from their banners in a few tasteful locations. The dress was cut as low as it could be for propriety’s sake, and it was one of the finest dresses Cersei owned. Joanna smirked inwardly, as she could see that Cersei appeared somewhat nervous if her reflection in the mirror was any indication: that boded well for Joanna’s plan. She stepped up behind her daughter, the mirror showing Joanna in her own dress, similar enough to Cersei’s but not so… enticing. “You look beautiful Cersei; I’m so proud of the woman you’re becoming.”

Cersei startled when Joanna stepped up behind her, blushing at the compliment and gazing downward. It was a few moments before Cersei composed herself, turning to face Joanna. “Mother, why did you invite Ned to dine with us?” her daughter asked. Joanna knew precisely why she’d invited Ned to dine with them: she wanted to give he and Cersei a chance to spend time together and learn more about one another, in the hopes that the both of them would favor the match she and Tywin wanted. Still, she couldn’t tell her daughter that, at least not yet. She thought about the answer she should give, her eyes on her daughter’s as she smiled. “Lord Stark seemed like a fine young man, and I felt we owed him a debt for preserving your dignity this afternoon.” Cersei blushed at that, and it had put her off balance just as Joanna had known it would.

Joanna was mildly surprised when Cersei composed herself, squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes. “You can’t put me off that easily, mother. Yes, everyone knows we pay our debts, but you wouldn’t normally go so far in doing so. Ned is only a second son, and I can’t fathom a reason you would seem to think so highly of him. You’ve got something planned involving Ned, and I have a right to know what it is — especially when your plan puts him in close proximity to father. Ned will be lucky to escape with his skin intact.” It seemed Joanna had underestimated her daughter, but Cersei’s defense of Ned only made Joanna more proud of her. Joanna smiled down at her daughter, resisting the urge to caress Cersei’s cheeks the way she did when Cersei was a child.

“Oh, my sweet daughter, you truly are growing into a woman any mother couldn’t help but take pride in. I promise you that your father and I only have your best interests at heart, and that nothing I’ve considered would risk Lord Stark in any way. Does that satisfy you?” Cersei couldn’t hold back a radiant smile at Joanna’s praise, but she quickly put the noble mask back on her beautiful face. “I trust you mother, but you know how father is. Father always promised me I would be queen, so I’ve been afraid of what he might do to achieve that end after Rhaegar’s marriage to the princess.” Cersei looked apprehensive as she gazed down at her feet for a moment, before raising her eyes to Joanna’s again. “Mother, we need to talk about the crown prince.”

Joanna raised a perfectly-groomed brow, making her way over to a padded bench and waiting for her daughter to join her. Cersei hesitated for a moment, before following Joanna over and taking her seat. Joanna said nothing, giving Cersei all the time she needed to organize her thoughts. “I was in the market earlier today, and I saw the crown prince and his family. Princess Rhaenys was asking Crown Prince Rhaegar to play with her, but he was too busy studying what were apparently prophecies to pay her any attention. It was as if he didn’t experience emotions the way human beings are supposed to; the crying Princess Rhaenys and angry Princess Elia didn’t seem to affect him at all. He wasn’t cruel… it was as if he couldn’t fathom that he was doing anything wrong.” Cersei exhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders. “I don’t want to marry the crown prince, mother. Seeing him with his family has made me glad father’s plan to match me to him didn’t work out. I want you to convince father that I don’t want to marry him, as I’m afraid he will try to arrange for that outcome if you don’t convince him otherwise.”

Joanna pondered Cersei’s revelation in silence. She was not surprised that the crown prince ignored his family in favor of his prophecies: his obsession with prophecies was the reason Tywin started looking elsewhere for a husband for Cersei in the first place. She was however surprised that he seemed to lack emotions and empathy. The absence of those in a ruler could and likely would spell disaster for the realm. That was very concerning, and she needed to discuss the matter with Tywin later. Still, Cersei was the more pressing matter. “I promise you Cersei, you will not have to marry the crown prince. Put your mind at ease on that front. You also do your father a disservice. He’s a hard man, but he loves his family very much, and he’s not the sort of villain you’re implying he might be to plot what you feared.”

Cersei looked abashed, but nodded. “Thank you, and I’m sorry mother.” Cersei seemed to be more at ease through Joanna’s assurances, so she stood with a smile. “Come, we don’t want to be late for dinner. I’m depending on you to carry the conversation with Lord Eddard, Cersei.” Her daughter nodded resolutely, but said nothing more. The two of them walked to the large tent they had been dining in, and she found most of her immediate family had already arrived. Tywin was seated at the head of the table looking over a scroll. Tyrion was seated to the left of her customary seat across from Tywin’s, across from him, reading a thick tome. She couldn’t hold back a smile; he was such a smart boy. They looked up to meet her and Tyrion smiled with happiness, saying, “Mama!” She made her way over to him, kissing his cheek gently as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Hello sweetling, you know you’ll have to put your book away before dinner,” she said, gently picking up his book and handing it to a servant to take back to Tyrion’s tent. “I know mama,” he said, preening as she petted him.

Tywin stood from his chair, approaching her with twinkling eyes as he looked from her to Cersei and back. “The both of you look beautiful,” he said. “Where is Jaime?” she asked. “I sent him to greet and escort Lord Stark. It’s my hope that the two of them might become friends,” he replied. Cersei’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by her father expressing such sentiments. It was then that they heard the tent flap rustle, turning to find Jaime and Lord Stark entering the tent. Tywin stepped forward, Joanna at his side. “Greetings, Lord Eddard. We’re honored to have you dine with us this evening,” her husband said. “The honor is mine, Lord Tywin, Lady Joanna.” It was then that Cersei stepped up to greet Lord Stark. “Lord Eddard,” she said, offering her hand. Lord Stark bowed to take it, placing a kiss upon the backs of her knuckles, before offering his arm and escorting her to her designated seat, the one to the left of Tywin’s.

Cersei’s mask cracked ever so slightly at Ned’s touches, and Joanna evidently wasn’t the only one to have noticed, as Jaime raised his eyebrows, his usual smirk widening into a smug grin. “Please, Lord Eddard, have a seat across from Cersei in the place of honor; you’re our guest, after all,” Joanna said, trying to interject before Jaime could let his mischievous nature get the better of his courtesies. Tywin and Lord Eddard pulled out her and Cersei’s respective chairs, pushing them in when they’d taken their seats. The rest of her family seated themselves, Lord Eddard to Tywin’s right across from Cersei, and Jaime to Joanna’s right across from Tyrion. Joanna smiled, looking around at her family — including her desired son by law —and felt warmth rise in her chest at the thought of her family growing. Tywin seemed pleased as well as he surveyed the table, motioning the servants to bring forth the courses.

Joanna gave her daughter a pointed look. “So Lord Eddard, how are you enjoying the tourney thus far?” Cersei asked, trying to get the conversation started as Joanna had prompted. Lord Eddard seemed somewhat discomfited — likely due to Cersei calling him by his proper title rather than the nickname he’d given her permission to use — but he’d fortunately been taught better than to insist on such impropriety at such a formal occasion. “It’s been both surprising and enjoyable, my lady. I’ve had some unexpected encounters, and many surprises, but I can honestly say this has been one of the most enjoyable days of my life, and dining with your family is an excellent way to end it.” Joanna noticed Cersei trying not to get flustered at Ned’s response, no doubt thinking he was alluding to his rather unfortunate encounter with her as part of his response. Joanna hid a smile behind her cup as she sipped her wine.

They ate, but she noticed that Tyrion was struggling to cut his venison. Before she could help him, Lord Eddard had already leaned over, gently coaxing the knife and fork from Tyrion’s hands and cutting it neatly for him. Tyrion smiled gratefully, and Lord Eddard smiled in return, before returning to his own meal. The sight of Ned jumping to her most-misunderstood child’s aid warmed Joanna’s heart, and seeing Ned being gallant again had pleased Cersei greatly if the sincere smile she wore on her beautiful face was any indicator. To Joanna’s surprise, it was Tyrion who carried the conversation forward. “I’ve heard that Winterfell has one of the oldest and largest libraries in Westeros, is this true?”

Ned smiled at Tyrion, seemingly happy for any opportunity to talk about his home. “Aye, it’s true. Some of the texts are incredibly old, but some of those are likely copies of copies, the originals more ancient still. Do you like to read, my lord?” Tyrion nodded eagerly, babbling like the excitable child he should always be, but could only be around his family — and seemingly Lord Eddard now, which brought a smile to Joanna’s face, hoping he’d be joining her family soon. “I love to read my lord. Father says a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. I have a particular fondness for dragons, because even I could be tall on dragonback.” Lord Eddard seemed amused, continuing to smile charmingly at her son. “Mayhaps when you grow up you could visit the North? You could explore the Winterfell library, and even stand atop the Wall to look down on the whole world. My brother Benjen is here at the tourney, perhaps I could introduce you to him? I feel the two of you could be good friends.”

Tyrion seemed delighted by the prospect, turning to her. “Can I, mother?” he asked eagerly, and the earnestness of his request warmed Joanna’s heart and made her more grateful to Lord Eddard than she’d already been. “It’s ultimately up to your father, but if you do well in your studies I’m confident he would allow a trip to the North. As for meeting Benjen, of course you can sweetling, it’s past time you made some friends.” Tywin’s face was his usual stoic mask, his feelings unreadable to anyone save Joanna, but she could tell he was amenable to the prospect. Tyrion settled down and returned to his meal, and Joanna smiled gratefully at Lord Eddard, who nodded kindly.

“Will you be competing in the tourney, Lord Eddard?” Cersei asked. Ned chewed and swallowed, taking a sip of wine. “Aye, my lady. Ordinarily I wouldn’t, but there are extenuating circumstances. I will be competing in both the melee and the joust.” Joanna raised a perfectly-groomed brow. “Extenuating circumstances?” she pressed. Lord Eddard sighed, “I caught some squires bullying one of my father’s bannermen, Howland Reed. In lieu of causing a scene, I’ve decided to enter the melee and the joust. I plan to challenge their knightly masters, and when I win order them to teach their squires honor.” Lord Eddard seemed vaguely embarrassed, but Joanna couldn’t fathom why. Joanna had noticed that Tywin raised a brow in surprise when Lord Eddard mentioned the name Howland Reed, so he evidently knew something she didn’t; that was something for her to enquire about later.

“Jaime will be competing in the joust as well, Lord Eddard. Please go easy on him should you encounter one another in the lists,” she said. “Mother!” Jaime exclaimed in embarrassment, and Joanna couldn’t help giggling, turning to him with a smile. “It’s a mother’s prerogative to tease her children sweetling.” Jaime huffed and returned to his meal, his cheeks a little flushed. “In all seriousness, Lord Eddard, mayhaps you and Jaime could spar, or practice with one another? I think you could be good friends just as Tyrion could with Lord Benjen.” Ned smiled, looking from her to Jaime. “Aye, I don’t mind. Jaime was good enough company on the way through your camp.” Jaime smiled and nodded in turn, and Joanna could see a genuine smile on Tywin’s face. She fought back the urge to react, but she definitely needed to interrogate Tywin later; it was evident he was keeping some cards close to his vest.

They finished the main courses, and Joanna smiled as Cersei and Ned both reached for the plate of lemon cakes at the same time. Their hands touched before they pulled them back, both of them seemingly abashed. “I’m sorry my lady, by all means, you have the first choice,” Lord Eddard said. Cersei blushed slightly, shaking her head. “You are our guest Lord Eddard, it’s only right that you should have the first choice,” her daughter retorted. Joanna couldn’t hold back a laugh, and the both of them looked at her, slightly embarrassed that they’d become a spectacle. “I’m glad to meet someone who might love lemon cakes as well as my daughter, Lord Eddard,” Joanna said. “Mother!” Cersei hissed in horror, her cheeks flushing. Lord Eddard only smiled, picking up a lemon cake and tearing it in half, offering one half to Cersei and keeping the other for himself. “A compromise then. Aye, my lady, lemon cakes are my favorite. I’m always fighting Lyanna for them.”

Joanna watched with a smile as the two started to eat their lemon cake halves at the same time, unable to resist teasing them further. “The both of you may feel free to have all you like. There are plenty to go around, and we can have more made if it proves necessary.” This only made the both of them blush further, but neither seemed too embarrassed to reach for another lemon cake after finishing their half. Neither of them could hold back a smile, looking at one another as they mutually enjoyed their favorite sugary confection. Joanna smiled to herself, inwardly congratulating herself. There was nothing quite so satisfying as a plan coming together.

Rickard III

Stark Camp, Private Dinner with Princess Elia

“Ah, there you are,” Rickard gently placed a hand on his wife's waist and looked down at the princess who was laying on their bed, cuddled into a cloak while the black kitten rested peacefully next to her. “I walked with her through our camp and told her stories,” his wife whispered back as she leaned back into his touch, her shoulders resting against his chest. “A few lords and ladies came and instantly fell in love with her; she really is a Little Sun,” she said. With a gentle smile Rickard leaned down and placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “We came back and I went to get her some juice; when I got back she was lying on the ground with Ned’s cloak wrapped around her,” she said, and Rickard couldn’t hold back a low chuckle. “It seems like the two of you had a great day, but where is Lady Ashara? Shouldn’t she be watching the princess?” Rickard hadn’t seen the princess’s handmaiden anywhere, something that surprised him. “I told her and Ned that they should go and enjoy some time off, and that I would take care of the little princess,” for a second Rickard held his breath, but then smiled — they were talking about Ned: unlike Brandon, he would bring no shame to House Stark.

“I wouldn’t have sent Brandon away with a lady,” his wife added after a moment with an amused tone, clearly having noticed that he was worried for a second. “We can be really proud of Ned, Rickard,” Lyarra slowly turned around and looked up into his eyes, waiting till he’d wrapped his arms around her again. “He excels in all his lessons with Jon, according to the teachers you sent he is also really talented, and the people of the Vale seem to love him. Sometimes I feel as if he’s been blessed by the old gods,” Lyarra said with a smile before she placed a gentle kiss on Rickard’s lips. “And yet, he’s still so humble,” she mumbled with an amused tone. A smile was also on Rickard’s lips:  if Lyarra only knew how right she was, that it really seemed as if Ned was blessed by the old gods and destined to do greater things than he ever had, but he couldn’t tell her; he knew that Lyarra wouldn’t like to keep it a secret from Ned, and if she found out that Ned was already betrothed…  Rickard didn’t even want to think about what would await him if she found out he’d betrothed Ned without consulting her.

So he kept silent, just wrapping his arms tighter around his wife to enjoy the moment together with her. “We should get prepared for our dinner,” Lyarra whispered after a moment. “I’m sure Ned will soon return with Ashara — he was invited to dinner with the Lannisters after all — and we really shouldn’t keep the princess waiting,” Rickard had to admit that his wife was right; if the princess invited them for dinner they shouldn’t make her wait. He pressed Lyarra once more against him, his lips meeting hers for a gentle kiss before he let go of her and went over to his chest of clothes. “I already put out what you should wear,” he heard Lyarra say and shook his head, after all these years she still decided what he should wear for important events. Normally Lyarra would keep everything in the colors of their house, but not this time. She had put out a light yellow tunic embroidered with the Stark crest, black breeches and the cloak she’d made for him herself, the huge head of a direwolf dominating the back. “Rhaenys said her mother would like this tunic; she likes light colors,” surprised Rickard turned around and looked into his wife’s eyes. “What? I seem to remember you quite enjoying watching me change my clothes, so I wanted to give it a try too,” Rickard bit his tongue to keep from laughing, a smirk appearing on his face as he leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, my beautiful and perfect wife,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you too, but now you need to go out and check if Ned and Ashara are back,” she said, but before his wife let him leave she placed another kiss on his lips, “I enjoyed watching,” she whispered before she disappeared to change her own clothes.

Rickard didn’t immediately leave the tent: the risk that his ears were still red from his wife’s final words was too high. Lyarra simply knew what cards to play. When he was sure it was safe to leave the tent he went outside and looked around for Ned and Ashara, noticing the young woman at the entrance of Ned’s tent with her head inside. “Ah, there you are Lady Ashara,” Rickard said with a happy tone before walking towards the girl who abruptly pulled her head out of the tent entrance and seemed to have slightly reddened cheeks. “Was Ned worried about being late? He forgets that not everyone walks as fast as him,” he gave a low laugh after speaking the words. As the young woman seemed to be at a loss for words he raised a brow. “Oh! Are you wondering how I know?” the smirk was back on his lips again. “When I came back I found the little princess cuddled into one of Ned’s cloaks on our bed. My wife then told me that she decided you and Ned should enjoy some spare time together while she took care of the princess,” he said. Finally, a smile came onto the lips of his friend's daughter and Rickard nodded towards a pair of chairs. “Yes, your wife said it would be okay. We had a nice walk and were talking, the heels actually make walking a bit more exhausting than flat shoes or boots,” the girl told him and Rickard gave a wave of his hand. “Lyarra prefers flat shoes and boots too,” he admitted with a smile.

“I do,” his wife’s voice suddenly came from behind Rickard, and he turned around only to forget what he wanted to say. Lyarra was wearing a dress in the same yellow as his tunic. He saw some details embroidered in orange and grey while also noticing how tightly it fit around her waist. Rickard had never before seen this dress, and seeing it now didn’t make it any easier for him at all; his wife looked stunningly beautiful — the dress showing off her still perfect figure — while her curly brown hair gave a perfect contrast. “Princess Rhaenys saw it and told me I should wear it,” Lyarra said, and Rickard just wanted to hug and kiss the little girl; he really would have to get her a nice northern present for making his wife finally wear this stunning dress. “Should I change?” Lyarra’s voice sounded a bit worried, but Rickard shook his head. “Forgive me, I was speechless,” he answered, which brought a smile onto Lyarra’s face. “You like it?” she asked, and spun around, letting him see the back for a moment too, and Rickard could only nod. “You’re still as beautiful as when I first saw you,” he mumbled as he stepped forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You really look beautiful in that dress, Lady Stark,” Ashara said from behind him, and Lyarra laughed. “You can call me Lyarra, it’s fine Ashara,” the twinkle in his wife’s eyes when she said that confused Rickard a lot.

“Where is the princess?” Ashara suddenly asked, and Rickard looked at his wife, still smiling. “She’s still asleep, and completely wrapped up into Ned’s cloak; I didn’t want to wake her up,” his wife was suddenly looking at him and he understood. “I’ll get her,” with these words Rickard was on his way back inside his tent, smiling when he stood at the bed and saw how the princess had wrapped herself up in his son’s cloak. He gently eased his hands under her and lifted her up, holding her safely against him as he went back outside, and Balerion walked next to him. He noticed that his wife was waiting for him alone, the smile on her face getting bigger when she saw him coming out with the bundled up princess in his arms. “Where is Lady Ashara?” Rickard asked her in a gentle tone to not wake up the princess. “She will be with us in a moment, don’t worry my love,” Lyarra whispered back as the wheelhouse came into view again, this time accompanied by Stark guards only. Rickard had just helped his wife in and handed the princess over to her when Ashara appeared next to him, and again her cheeks were red. After a moment of thought he decided not to comment, and helped her inside the wheelhouse before closing the door. “You go ahead, I will catch up in a moment,” he said. The guard at the head nodded and the escort started moving with the wheelhouse.

“When you’re ready, m’lord,” another guard had appeared next to him, sitting already atop a northern destrier while holding the reins of Rickard’s in his other hand. “Shouldn’t wait too long,” Rickard said as he mounted his destrier and took the reins, he enjoyed being able to ride a bit faster, finally feeling a bit of colder air hitting his face again as they caught up with the wheelhouse, and he was soon taking his position at the front.

The way to the keep wasn’t long, and Rickard was surprised to see a single Kingsguard waiting for them — somehow he had expected a few more guards to await them. Still, he had no time to give this much thought now; it would have to wait til he was back in his tent and could think without being disturbed. He dismounted his destrier and walked to the wheelhouse. He opened the door and helped Ashara out of the wheelhouse before taking little Rhaenys from his wife, this way he could hand the princess to Ashara before he helped Lyarra out. Rickard moved in front of both ladies and walked towards the Kingsguard. “I’m Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. My wife, Lyarra Stark, and I were invited to dine with Princess Elia Targaryen. With us is Lady Ashara Dayne, who’s escorting Princess Rhaenys Targaryen with us,” somehow Rickard had the feeling that this introduction wasn’t needed — the guard looked a little amused — it was then that Rickard noticed the hilt of the Kingsguard’s sword. “I know this sword,” he said as he looked into the younger man’s purple eyes — purple: how could he have only now noticed that? “Uther wielded it during the war,” his head turned and he looked to Ashara, then back to the young man. “He must be proud that one of his sons followed in his footsteps as Sword of the Morning,” a smile was still on his lips while the Kingsguard looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

“I was just as surprised as you Arthur,” Ashara suddenly spoke up. “Lord Stark and father served together, and I assume they became friends during that time,” the young lady now looked at Rickard, just like her brother. “Yes,” was his simple answer. At first he’d been confused why they didn’t know, but if he was honest, he didn’t tell a lot of people about the war either. “You should bring Lord and Lady Stark to Elia now; she is surely waiting for her guests, and would not appreciate it if they’re late because of you brother,” it was easy to notice the playful and teasing tone in Ashara’s voice, but still her brother seemed to get over the shock and nodded. “If you would follow me,” Arthur turned in a swift movement and walked in front of them. Ashara had at some point said her goodbye and walked into a chamber with Rhaenys, who was still asleep and clutching his son’s cloak with her tiny hands.

“Lord Stark,” Rickard turned his head to Arthur who had fallen in step with him, “would it be okay if I visit you in your camp one of these days?” The question surprised Rickard, but still he gave a nod. “Sure, every child of Uther will always be a welcome guest of House Stark,” and Rickard meant every word: he would always protect Uther and his family, it is the least he could do after all. “Thank you Lord Stark,” Arthur Dayne said with a small smile on his face again. The Kingsguard soon took the lead again, and Lyarra gently intertwined their arms. Rickard looked at her and saw the raised brow, giving a shrug as answer — how should he know why Uther’s son wished to visit him? They made another turn and then Arthur stopped, raising his hand and banging at a door before slowly opening it. “Lord Rickard Stark and his wife Lady Lyarra Stark have arrived,” he announced before stepping to the side so that they could enter the room before the door was closed right behind them.

If Rickard was honest he’d expected to see a well furnished room with a huge dinner table, a lot of chairs placed around the table, and an amount of food that would be enough for twenty or thirty people: he’d expected a show of wealth and power. Instead there was a small table with four chairs, a decent amount of food that would get everyone well fed without leaving too much to be thrown away — Rickard also directly noticed the smell of northern food, but also something more spicy in the air and exotic fruits that were cut open and placed on small plates. It was not a show of wealth; this was a dinner as you would have with friends: warm and welcoming, wanting to enjoy the evening while also having a serious discussion in privacy. Suddenly a door opened within the room, and a Kingsguard stepped inside. Rickard’s eyes got wide. “It can’t be!” the words escaped his lips rather loudly, and the Kingsguard looked at him. “Oh no! This must be a joke,” the man in the white cloak replied, both men were walking towards each other and laughing. “The gods have an odd sense of humor,” they said in the same moment and wrapped their arms around each other. “First Uther’s children, and now you,” Rickard said clearly amused. “It’s crazy isn’t it? This tourney brings us back together,” with that both men laughed before they finally ended the hug, having their hands on each other's shoulders. “It really has been too long Lewyn,” Rickard said. “It has been, but I see that your wife kept you in good shape and healthy,” a soft cough could be heard, and they finally did let go of each other, looking at Lyarra who was looking towards the door that was now closed. 

Lewyn turned around and got wide eyes, attempting a bow but the young woman stopped him. “It’s fine uncle, I haven’t seen you so happy in a long time,” two pairs of heels could be heard clicking on the ground as the princess stopped opposite Rickard and Lyarra stopped next to him. “Princess Elia,” Rickard said and gave a bow. “Lord Rickard,” the princess replied with a small curtsy, and then she turned to Lyarra. “Princess Elia,” Lyarra directly greeted her with a curtsy. “Lady Lyarra,” the princess returned the curtsy, “I must say that you look wonderful in that dress.” A light laugh escaped his wife at these words, “Your daughter actually told me to wear it, Princess,” she answered honestly. For a mere instant Rickard saw surprise on the princess' face when Lyarra said Rhaenys had picked the dress, but the young woman quickly hid it again. “I think we should start eating before everything gets cold,” with these words the princess led them to the table. Rickard pulled the chair out for Lyarra and Lewyn did the same for Elia. When the three of them were seated, Lewyn turned around to take his position but Elia stopped him. “Sit down and eat with us uncle,” she nodded to the place next to her, and the man smiled as he took his seat.

The dinner started out pretty normally, with Rickard and Lewyn talking the most while Elia and Lyarra listened to the stories of war and friendship from the both of them. The food was delicious, even the northern dishes perfectly done as Rickard noted. “You said earlier that my daughter selected your dress Lady Lyarra,” Elia at some point said after Rickard and Lewyn had been quiet for a few moments and enjoyed the food. “Yes, she was very sure you would like it,” Lyarra answered in an amused tone, and the princess smiled. “I would have thought that Ashara would help you choose a dress,” Elia admitted with a smile, and Rickard noticed how his wife looked down for a moment. “I told Lady Ashara that I would take care of princess Rhaenys, that she and my son Eddard should go and enjoy some time together,” his wife then admitted in a gentle tone, while the smile on Elia’s lips just grew bigger.

“Lord Eddard,” the princess said with a smile still on her lips. “I had the pleasure of meeting him earlier in the market; Rhaenys and Balerion seemed to be quite taken with him,” Rickard heard a laugh slip from Lyarra’s lips next to him.
“And our Eddard seems to be quite taken with the both of them,” his wife answered before Rickard could even think about an answer. “It was so sweet to see them together,” Lyarra continued. “It actually made me hope that grandchildren might be in our close future,” at these words Rickard turned to his wife and looked at her with surprised eyes while she only took his hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I think for Eddard to sire children, you will need to find a wife for him first,” the gentle laugh that accompanied the words of princess Elia pulled Rickard’s attention back to her. “Oh no,” Rickard thought then, his eyes looking into the princess’s brown eyes. “Please don’t let her proposal be what I think it is,” he sent a silent prayer to the old gods.
“That brings me to the reason for my invitation,” the young princess said, and Rickard bit his tongue to hold back a sigh that nearly left his lips.

“Why can’t it be easy for once?” At this moment he already knew that a sleepless night awaited him.

“I noticed a chemistry between Lady Ashara and your son,” Elia continued, and Rickard felt how Lyarra gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “When Ashara came into my service, her mother requested of me to find her a suitable match,” somehow it felt as if his wife got more excited with every word the princess said. “And I think that your son, Lord Eddard, would be a very suitable husband for Ashara,” the princess looked at him and then his wife.

“I agree,” the excitement in Lyarra’s voice was more than clear, and Rickard raised his hand.

“Princess Elia, it honors me and House Stark that you think my son a suitable husband,” Rickard started, and the princess looked at him again. “But I have to think about our people too; a marriage must make sense for the North, and not just me and my wife,” for a moment Rickard was silent. “I know Lord Dayne personally, we have been friends,” he said, then continued in a gentle tone. “And sadly that is also why I know that Starfall can’t offer anything that would help the North during our harsh winters,” a sad sigh followed his words.  “I hope she believes that,” Rickard thought at the same moment.

“Oh Lord Stark, I completely understand your concern. Actually it makes me happy to see that you don’t only care about your family, but also about your people,” a smile was still on the princess’s lips. “Dorne is not as different to the North as you may think; that is why I actually prepared myself for this answer,” the smile on the princess’s lips combined with her words got Rickard worried, but at the same time intrigued.

“It can’t hurt to listen to the offer the princess has prepared, it probably still won’t help the North,” he thought, and just stayed silent, giving only a small nod to show that he would listen to the offer.

“With the marriage of Lord Eddard and Ashara you will not just gain the support of House Dayne and Starfall; it will also bring you the support of my family, and with that all of Dorne,” it was clear the princess only made a pause to wait for another small nod from him, so far it was nothing that would really help the North. “Besides that, it will gain you my support, and with that the support of House Targaryen, which includes the Crownlands,” this was something Rickard hadn’t expected.

“The Targaryens actually would be valuable in the winter, they could get other houses to send food while also sending some themselves,” he had to admit that this made the offer a lot more interesting. “But Ned is already betrothed, and the marriage to Cersei will gain us a lot more; we would finally be free from tyranny and fear,” with that on his mind, he wanted to answer the princess, but the princess raised her hand to stop him.

“But that is not all. I will promise you now that the firstborn son of Lord Eddard and Ashara will marry my daughter Rhaenys,” as soon as the princess had said that it felt as if Lyarra was going to break his hand.

“It would set the alliance in stone, secure it for more than a single generation,” never had Rickard expected that the princess would offer this, but her next words  surprised him even more.

“This means that your grandson, the son of Lord Eddard and Ashara, will become the husband of the future queen,” Lyarra was still squeezing his hand as if she wanted to break it while Elia had an even bigger smile on her lips.

“This… I never expected to get such an offer. What did Ned do to Ashara and the little princess that the princess would put such an offer on the table? But… the princess could still get a son, then the biggest part of the deal would fall away,” his own thoughts didn’t help Rickard at that moment. “And Ned is already betrothed, even though nobody can know that,” he scolded himself within his mind.

“Oh, I should add that it’s guaranteed that my husband and I won’t have future children,” the smile on Elia’s lips turned into a smirk.

“Fuck,” was all Rickard could think then as he looked at Elia. “Ned is betrothed, but if I tell her that I will have to tell them to whom,” Rickard was silent then as his brain worked. “As soon as someone knows that Ned and Cersei are betrothed it would spread like wildfire, and it would get people suspicious. It just isn’t something Tywin Lannister would typically do,” it was hard not to sigh because of the situation he was in right now. “Nobody can know about the betrothal with Cersei, and that again would make people suspicious if I declined this offer. Only a madman would not want his grandchild to be betrothed to the future queen,” finally he looked at Lyarra and then the princess again.

“This is a very generous offer, Princess Elia, but I would request that you grant me and my wife time to talk about all this,” Rickard started and gently squeezed Lyarra’s hand. “I promise you will have an answer tomorrow evening at the latest,” it should not be surprising that he was overwhelmed by the offer and requested a night to sleep on it.

“That sounds reasonable to me Lord Rickard,” the princess stood up with these words and so did Rickard, Lyarra and Lewyn. “I can understand that you’re overwhelmed and need a night to think about this,” the princess walked towards them, standing right next to him. “It’s not every day that the sun and wolf could finally claim what should have been theirs for a long time,” she whispered so that only he could hear it before she led him and his wife to the door. “I will await an answer by tomorrow evening, don’t make me wait,” she said so that Lyarra could hear it too, before Lewyn opened the door and stepped outside. “I wish you both a good night, and I hope we’ll have another dinner together soon,” she finished. With the formal courtesies adhered to, they said goodnight before they left.

This time it was Lewyn who led them back to their horses and carriage, not saying anything until it was time for a goodbye as they parted ways with the promise to meet again.

“This has been an eventful day, I will have to send out a message so that the council can meet in the morning,” Rickard thought as he mounted his horse and took his position at the head of the group that moved back toward their camp. “I can only hope we can find a solution to this in the council, because right now I feel as if there is no right decision,” finally he allowed a sigh to slip from his lips while shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Elia III

Chambers of Elia & Rhaegar

Elia’s eyes were fixed on the Dornish red within the cup she was holding, a small smile on her lips as she thought about everything that happened today. She had met Lord Eddard Stark, and a plan had formed in her mind. At first it really had just been a plan to make her best friend happy.

During the dinner with his parents, Elia had realized that Lord Eddard was the chess piece that had been missing in the plan she and Doran had made. So long they had searched for it, and now Balerion had found it for them; they would finally be able to put their plan to put Rhaenys on the throne into motion. With a smile she made a mental note to make sure that the black kitten would get a special treat tomorrow.

Still, she also knew that her own plan had a fault — her promises. She had been in no position to make them — especially the promise of Rhaenys becoming queen. It surprised her that neither Lord nor Lady Stark had told her that it was impossible, that Viserys would come first — and she was lucky that Rickard probably believed she had spoken with her husband about the plan first.

She hadn’t, but she would now.

She emptied the cup in one gulp before placing it onto the table, her eyes falling on an old leather-bound book laying next to it. One of her fingers gently traced the golden letters on the cover — “Songs and Prophecies of Westeros” — before she lifted the book from the table and approached the door that connected her room to the room of her husband.

Her hand knocked gently at the door before she opened it and saw her husband sitting at his desk with a book in front of him, probably the latest one that he had found about prophecies.

“Rhaegar,” she said in a soft tone while approaching the desk. “I came to say I’m sorry; I thought about your words and realized I was wrong,” the soft tone of her voice became regretful, sad about the fact that she had failed him. “You were right all along: prophecies are important, they will actually show us how to save Westeros,” and finally her husband looked up, blinking twice before a small smile came to his lips.

“Oh Elia,” her husband said with his melancholic voice. “I knew that someday you would understand me, and you would realize that I only want to save Westeros and all its people,”he continued as he closed the book in front of him.

“I’m sorry Rhaegar, for not immediately believing in you,” she mumbled and looked down at the ground. “But after our fight I took one of the books you had put into my bags and started to read it,” with these words she actually looked up and raised the book, so he could see the title.

“Oh, that’s my favorite one,” her husband answered while the smile on his lips got even bigger.

“I actually came upon ‘The Song of Ice and Fire’ in this book,” she continued and walked closer to the table. “It’s such a fascinating prophecy, I can’t tell you how often I’ve read it since I discovered this book, I simply couldn’t get it out of my mind,” she said as she placed the book on his table and opened it on the right page. “And each time I thought about your words,” she added as she pushed the book towards him.

“It’s a very interesting prophecy,” her husband said while his eyes moved over the text and Elia moved behind him. “But I don’t know how we could ever make this come true, a union of Ice and Fire,” a low sigh escaped him and Elia placed her hands on his shoulders.

“I know what you mean,” she agreed with a sigh, her thumbs gently drawing circles between his shoulder blades — she had learned early in their marriage that this made him relax. “The Starks are still sour about the Pact of Ice and Fire that was never fulfilled,” she added in a low tone.

“Yes,” Rhaegar sighed. “They would probably not even listen to an offer,” another sigh escaped his lips as he put his head into his hands, looking at the text in the book.

“Well, I actually had dinner with Rickard Stark and his wife; they seemed very nice, and are interested in alliances with the south,” she said. Her husband quickly looked up at her, exactly as she’d expected.

“You had dinner with them? Why?” Rhaegar asked in a surprised tone and Elia nodded.

“Well, I ran into their second son today, Lord Eddard,” Elia began slowly and kept moving her thumbs with slight pressure. “We talked for a bit, and my impression was that he was a good and very honorable man; nobody that I asked said a bad word about him,” she finished, sighing as she changed the position of her hands a bit, her thumbs now closer to his neck.

“But there is no princess even close to his age Elia,” Rhaegar answered with a sigh, not seeing how a smirk came to her lips.

“I know Rhaegar, but Ashara seemed to be quite taken with him,” she said in a calm voice. “That is why I invited his parents for dinner. Ashara's mother asked me to find a suitable husband for her, and I think that Lord Eddard might be just the right one,” her husband only nodded.

“Wait, you said he is a second son right?” Rhaegar asked after a moment.

“Yes, he is Lord Rickard’s second son,” Elia confirmed.

“Well, a second son often only gets a small keep, so maybe he would agree to come to King’s Landing and live there with Ashara,” her husband said in a thoughtful tone.

“I’m sure Ashara could talk him into it, but he would probably want to spend some time with her in the North first,” she replied.

“They could spend two years in the North, but then come to King’s Landing, maybe they will already have a son by then…” Rhaegar said with more spirit in his voice.

“Rhaegar,” Elia said and stopped the massage. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?” she asked in a very surprised tone before her husband stood up and turned to her.

“It depends on what you’re thinking I’m thinking,” Rhaegar said with a light laugh and took her hands. “Because I’m thinking that we offer the Starks more than just a marriage between Lord Eddard and Ashara,” he finished. Her husband’s voice was not melancholic for once, but cheerful, as if he had just solved all the problems of Westeros.

“Rhaenys?” Elia asked in shock and Rhaegar nodded with a smirk.

“Yes,” Rhaegar confirmed. “Besides Ashara, we will offer them the betrothal of Rhaenys to the first born son of Lord Eddard and Ashara,” the smirk stayed on his lips as he squeezed Elia’s hand. “The winters in the North are hard and long; with this betrothal they will gain the support of my house — and we will be able to get food from all the parts of Westeros that we can send to them.”

“And we would fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire,” Elia added and tried to sound amazed by the plan her husband had just come up with. Now Rhaegar's eyes got wide for a moment before he nodded.

“Exactly, we will fulfill the vow my family gave them so many years ago,” he confirmed with another nod. “It will show them that we still are thankful for their role in the Dance of the Dragons, and that we respect them,” Rhaegar sounded so sure about this, and Elia had to hold back a smirk, biting her own tongue, which made her eyes go wide from the sudden pain.

“But Rhaegar,” she said and he looked at her questingly. “What if Lord Rickard denies it, knowing there is a risk of your brother becoming king if you should…” she trailed off, looking down as if she was ashamed of even thinking about this.

“You’re right,” her husband said with a low sigh. “That is an issue,” he mumbled.

“Maybe you could write something down that would declare Rhaenys queen in the case that you have no male heir and your father has passed already?” she asked. She slowly looked up, only mumbling the words, which had the desired effect. Rhaegar's eyes had gone wide before he smiled and nodded.

“That is brilliant Elia,” she felt how he gently kissed her forehead before he let go of her hands and sat down at the desk again. He pulled out a sheet of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill. “Arthur should be outside, please tell him to come in,” Rhaegar said, his hand already moving over the parchment with the quill.

“Sure,” she said as she leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek, using the moment to look at the parchment he was just scribbling his last will down upon, putting it down on paper that Rhaenys would be queen if he should die as king without male heirs.

Elia walked to the door, her feelings mixed. Viserys would probably challenge Rhaenys’s claim, but with this single marriage she would gain the North, the Stormlands — she was sure Robert Baratheon would gain more followers than Connington in due time — and probably also the Vale as allies in the civil war this could potentially cause. Elia needed these allies to protect herself and her daughter, and that required the promise of a consortship; Elia personally wanted Rhaenys nowhere near that accursed chair.

She paused to compose herself before she opened the door. “Arthur, Rhaegar asked for you,” she informed the Kingsguard who stood outside. The man only nodded and followed her inside before closing the door behind him.

“Crown Prince Rhaegar,” Arthur greeted her husband with a bow as he shortly looked up.

“Arthur, I need your service as a loyal and trusted friend today,” Rhaegar said as he finished another sentence before finally looking up again. “I need the following message spread through all of Harrenhal; by morning nearly everyone shall know about it,” Rhaegar said and waited for a nod from Arthur.

“Many years ago House Targaryen and House Stark made the Pact of Ice and Fire. While House Stark fulfilled their part, House Targaryen didn’t, until today. I, Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, decided that it is long past time to show House Stark that we’re thankful for their loyalty during the Dance of Dragons, and through all the years that have passed until the present day. With these thoughts, I wish to honor the pact that our Houses made long ago, and I offer the hand of my daughter — and heir until I have a son — Princess Rhaenys Targaryen to the first born son of Lord Eddard Stark should he accept the betrothal to Lady Ashara Dayne. As a show of my trust in House Stark, they shall also  gain the support of my house during the long and hard winters they suffer.”

Rhaegar was looking at Arthur who looked back before he repeated the words.

“Perfect, now go and ensure that everyone knows,” again Arthur nodded before turning around and leaving the room, his white cloak billowing after him.

“This worked better than I expected,” Elia thought to herself as she walked back to Rhaegar and sat down next to him to write down the contract for the betrothal between Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne, as well as for the betrothal between their first son and Rhaenys.

Tywin II

Harrenhal

Tywin had been more than surprised when he’d found a slip of parchment on his private desk after the dinner with Lord Eddard was over. More than once he had questioned the guards if anyone had been allowed entry to his tent, and each time they had vowed that no one had been allowed entry.

It was clear that it had been delivered by a crannogman — it carried the sigil of the council after all — but that was also what had stolen his sleep the previous night. He had never expected that a situation would arise that caused the need for a meeting right under the eyes of the dragons.

Before the sun had even risen he had left his tent through the back, wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled deep over his face, and nothing fancy that could glint in the light of the moon or of the rising sun. No risk could be taken here at Harrenhal: too many loyalists were here — even though he was sure that most of them were actually loyal to Rhaegar rather than Aerys.

He hadn’t even felt as nervous when he’d resigned as Aerys’s hand as he did today; his nerves were on edge, and every little noise nearly caused him to turn around. “Stop it, you would notice if someone was following you. Those are just the normal sounds of the night,” Tywin thought angrily at himself, knowing that if someone was actually following him that looking around would make them even more suspicious than a lone stranger walking into the forest.

When Tywin finally reached the clearing he saw two more hooded figures standing close to one another. He slowly approached them, but before he could even say a word the tallest of them raised his hand — Tywin understood and was silent. He didn’t know how long they had been standing there until a figure who wore a dark green cloak appeared in front of them.

“The area is secure; we will keep anyone from getting too close,” the man said before disappearing into the woods again.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. We all know how much risk this meeting brings, but believe me it was necessary,” Rickard Stark said next to him and Tywin saw how Jon nodded; he slowly nodded too. “Last night I was invited for dinner with Princess Elia,” the man continued, and this immediately piqued Tywin’s interest — never before had he heard about the princess inviting someone to dinner. “As you both can surely assume, it was not just out of friendship. The princess had an offer for me and House Stark that she wanted to present to me and my wife,” he finished. That was what Tywin had already assumed, the question was: what was the offer the princess had made to the head of House Stark?

“If you called a meeting because of that offer it must have been very special,” Jon said what Tywin thought.

“Princess Elia informed me that Lady Dayne had requested that she arrange a suitable match for her daughter,” Rickard continued and Tywin sighed.

“And she thinks that Lord Eddard and Ashara would make a perfect match, correct?” If Tywin hadn’t been sure of the answer he wouldn’t have asked; it was the only plausible and urgent reason for such a meeting.

“If that’s true then you could have simply declined the offer from her; House Dayne clearly would bring no advantage for House Stark,” Jon intervened, and Tywin bit his tongue. It was moments like this one when it was hard not to slap his forehead and give an exhausted sigh. Jon Arryn was an intelligent man, but situations like this made Tywin reconsider — it should have been clear that more came with the offer, or Rickard wouldn’t have called the meeting.

“Correct Tywin; false Jon,” Rickard said with a sigh. “I declined the princess's offer, but she told me she was prepared for that,” Tywin had always thought Elia to be a bright woman, and these words from Rickard only confirmed this thought;  her offer would show how intelligent. “She then told me that with Ashara my House would gain the support of House Martell and through them Dorne,” Rickard raised a hand and a smirk appeared on Tywin’s face; so Rickard anticipated that Jon was about to say something again. “Additionally, the support of House Targaryen and the Crownlands would be gained through her, bringing the North very valuable sources of food during our long and hard winters,” if Tywin was honest he would have already agreed to this offer were he in Rickard’s position — but then their plan would help House Stark even more.

“But the princess is sickly; if she should pass that support would be lost. And Dorne doesn’t produce enough of the food you need during winter,” Jon pointed out, and Tywin had to agree with it; in moments like these the true intelligence of Jon Arryn showed through. Tywin was just about to agree with Jon, but something in the back of his mind told him to wait — that this was not all.

“That’s very true Jon, and it’s the reason why princess Elia informed me that the first born son of Ned and Ashara would be betrothed to Princess Rhaenys, ensuring the support even after Princess Elia’s death,” he finished. Tywin was speechless.

“The Targaryens would finally fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire they made with Cregan Stark; the North would get a princess, and that would probably ensure them more than two generations of support,” Tywin bit his lip this time, just in time to hold back a sigh. “I knew that Princess Elia was intelligent, but this is even more intelligent than I thought. She basically offered the North all they could dream of, and all that through a single marriage,” Tywin's mind raced.

“That’s… a lot,” Jon said after a moment of silence, and Tywin decided that it would be enough to only listen with half an ear. “I mean, you would gain a lot of support just with the marriage of Ned,” Jon added after a moment.

“If I decline this offer the princess would think me a fool, too stupid for the good of my family and house,” Rickard replied with a sigh.

“Not just that, she would get suspicious,” Tywin added after a moment, still in his thoughts. “You and your House would gain so much with that marriage,” and slowly a thought pushed to the front of his mind.

“If the princess and the crown prince had no more children… that would basically mean that a Stark would have a claim on the throne after a few years, the children of Rhaenys being half Stark,” Tywin thought, his eyes widening when he realized that. “That means the Starks could gain everything without a war while I and my house would gain nothing,” in these moments it was hard for Tywin to stay cool and collected. “But what if…”

“There is one issue with the offer,” Rickard suddenly interfered before Tywin could even open his mouth. “The princess said that her daughter would sit on the iron throne, but — as we all know — that isn’t the case. According to the great council of 136 AC, each male from the Targaryen line comes before a female in the line of succession.” Rickard was silent for a moment.

“Prince Viserys would come before Princess Rhaenys then,” Jon said.

“Correct, and with the way the princess said it… I fear that it would be the beginning of a civil war,” Rickard added with a sigh. “I’m not even sure if the princess had talked about this offer with Prince Rhaegar first.”

That had been an interesting piece of information; Tywin had just settled on an answer and now this.

“I think that we’ve  just found another player of the game,” Tywin said and his eyes moved from Rickard to Jon, noticing how both hoods had turned slightly to give him their full attention. “Princess Elia clearly has her own plans; she is playing the Game of Thrones without many people realizing it. To be honest with the both of you,” Tywin made sure he still had their attention. “I think that Princess Elia is a very skilled player of the game, and she will get her husband to support her offer.  The king is a different matter, and she may or may not be able to get Aerys’ support,” a sigh followed his words and the other two stayed silent.

“You will accept the offer, and Eddard will marry Ashara Dayne; if you decline,  Princess Elia would get suspicious, and she wouldn’t be the only one, especially since as far as the public knows Eddard isn’t betrothed, and you were basically offered all you could ever want,” Tywin finished. In the end Tywin had stayed with his decision from earlier. The risk with this new player was too high; they couldn’t risk a failure out of pride now.

“But what about our plan?” Jon asked, just as Tywin had expected. “What about the betrothal between Eddard and Cersei? You both signed a contract,” a smirk came to Tywin’s face again.

“We will stick with our plan; there will be a rebellion whenever House Targaryen inevitably gives us a justification, and Eddard will be placed on the throne,” Tywin raised his hand to signal he had more to say. “But Rickard will honor our contract too. Eddard will marry my daughter Cersei.”

“You want him to marry both Lady Ashara and your daughter?” It was clear that Jon was shocked by Tywin’s plan.

“Well, some of the Kings of Winter had two or more wives, it is not unheard of in the North, and the old gods never punished them for it,” finally Rickard was speaking and Tywin directly gave him his full attention. “But you do know this could mean that Ashara gives birth to a son before your daughter, making the boy Ned’s heir?”

“I know Rickard,” Tywin answered, knowing that the other two men were watching him. “It’s a risk that can be taken care of, not in the open but in the shadows,” came to his mind. “Stop it you greedy fool,” Tywin directly scolded himself in his mind. “You saw how much Joanna and Cersei already adore Eddard; if you act against him,” Tywin swallowed, hoping no one noticed it, “they would both turn against you. Nobody would keep Eddard and Rickard from hunting you down, punishing and ruining everything you’ve worked so hard for,” this time a sigh escaped his lips. “Cersei will be Queen, one of my grandchildren might become king, or will at the very least be very high in the line of succession and a loved and trusted sibling,” and with that he had made a decision. “It’s a risk, but I think it’s a risk worth taking for a better future for Westeros, not to mention a better future for our children and grandchildren,” he finished, and Tywin meant those words; he would not risk this new alliance and the promised peace out of greed.

“Well, you two would outvote me if I protested,” Jon said with a sigh. “And I have to admit that Tywin is right; we need to make sure the tyranny ends, that is more important than who is the mother of the heir. This is for Westeros, for a better future for our houses,” another sigh left Jon’s lips. “I agree with you, Rickard should accept the offer. Ned will marry Lady Ashara, but will also honor the betrothal contract and make Lady Cersei his wife too.”

“I agree as well, I will accept the offer and let Ned marry lady Ashara. The contract with Tywin will be honored, and Ned will also marry Lady Cersei,” with these words from Rickard the tension finally left Tywin's body.  They would stick to their plan: he only had the extra task of trying to make sure that his grandchild would sit on the throne when the time had come.

“Then I think we can end the meeting and head back to our tents,” Rickard said and shortly looked up. “The old gods also seem to agree with us, granting us the cover of darkness for our journey back,” Tywin saw Jon nod, and then he nodded too.

Without another word each lord walked in a different direction, Tywin choosing a different path back to his tent. Maybe he would be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

Tywin was shaken awake rather forcefully; it felt as if he had not even gotten an hour of sleep, and he really wanted to shout at the person who dared to wake him — until he looked into the furious eyes of his wife.

“Joanna?” He asked, still sleepy.

“Don’t you dare ‘Joanna’ me, Tywin Lannister,” his wife growled out.

“What happened?” He just sighed and shook his head, not understanding what was going on.

“What happened?” His wife asked with a mad glint in her eyes. “Nothing important, only everyone in Harrenhal talking about the gracious offer Prince Rhaegar made to House Stark.”

Tywin looked confused, he only knew about Princess Elia talking with Rickard.

“He offered the Starks the support of House Targaryen during the winters of the North, and to honor the pact of Ice and Fire, betrothing his daughter — who is his heir until he has a son — to the first born son of Lord Eddard,” it seemed as if his wife’s eyes got even more furious when she stopped at this point, and Tywin knew what would come next. “The only thing the Starks need to do is accept the betrothal of Lord Eddard to Lady Ashara Dayne,” with that she threw clothes at him. “You get dressed now, and we’ll go to the Starks; you told me that you and Rickard have a contract: I want to know how this rumor can even be out there,” and Tywin knew better than to argue with his wife then, getting dressed to leave with her just like she wished. The two of them rode in Joanna’s wheelhouse, and for once Tywin didn’t protest as he was absolutely exhausted. He reflected on the situation as they rode to the camp of House Stark.

“By the Seven, now it really isn’t possible for Rickard to decline,” he thought as he silently sat next to his fuming wife. “Thank the Seven we already agreed upon him accepting the offer last night,” he had to hold back a sigh. “I knew you were intelligent Elia, but to so quickly get your husband involved and agreeing to it, even publicly announcing it… absolutely brilliant,” he thought as the banners of the Stark Camp came into view.

Chapter Text

Joanna III

Camp of House Stark

The ride in the wheelhouse with Tywin had been a silent one. It was fortunate for them that not too many people were awake at such an early hour, otherwise the next juicy gossip of Harrenhal would be of the Lannisters visiting the Stark camp shortly after rumors had erupted that the Targaryens had made a betrothal offer for Lord Eddard.

Joanna knew something wasn’t as it seemed to be. Tywin had told her about the betrothal of Cersei and Lord Eddard, and he’d said a contract had already been signed. She knew Tywin well enough to be sure he had not left any loophole for the Starks in that contract.

Something else Joanna noticed was that Tywin was tired — so tired it seemed as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night. Still, that was a topic to discuss later. The betrothal was all that mattered at the moment. Joanna didn’t want to see her daughter sad again; Cersei had been in enough pain when Aerys had declined their proposed betrothal of her to Rhaegar.

A knock could be heard, clearly coming from the coachman to announce they had arrived in the Stark camp, and would soon have to get out of the wheelhouse. Joanna took a few more deep breaths before the carriage finally stopped.

After a moment the door was opened, and Tywin got out. He offered her his hand as soon as he was standing on the grass, and helped her out of the wheelhouse. Normally Joanna would have taken a look, but right now she didn’t care about the camp’s layout: she simply walked straight for the largest tent and was only stopped by Tywin who clasped her arm, his grip as strong as iron.

“Calm down,” he whispered to her before making a few more steps towards a guard. “Good day,” he said to the guard who returned the greeting with a bow. “My wife — Lady Joanna — and I — Lord Tywin Lannister — would like to speak with Lord Rickard Stark. It is about an urgent matter,” the words were said in Tywin’s lord voice, the tiredness gone and replaced by the face he normally wore in public.

The guard briefly looked at the other guard and then nodded. “I will inform Lord Stark; please wait for my return Lord Lannister, Lady Lannister,” and with that the northerner disappeared into the tent. Muffled voices could be heard outside the tent, but Joanna also didn’t dare to get closer: the second guard had all his attention on her and Tywin.

Soon the tent opened again, and the guard stepped outside. “Lord and Lady Stark are ready to welcome you,” he announced before opening the entrance to the tent once more, and this time he held it open.

Before they could step inside Tywin turned to the coachman and gave a nod. Joanna saw how the wheelhouse was pulled away by the horses before they stepped inside.

“Lord and Lady Lannister,” the guard announced before stepping out of the tent again and closing the entrance.

“Lord Stark, Lady Stark, thank you for welcoming us on such… short notice,” her husband said with a small nod.

“Thank you,” Joanna gritted out and gave a small nod. No matter how angry she was, she wouldn’t forget the manners her mother had taught her.

“Lord Lannister, Lady Lannister,” Lord Stark and his wife returned. “I assume you have an important reason to visit us so early?” Rickard Stark had the nerve to ask.

“You know exactly why we’re here Lord Stark,” Joanna gritted out, unable to hold it back any longer.

“I beg your forgiveness, but I really don’t know what reason you might have Lady Lannister,” Rickard replied, and she saw how Lyarra Stark nodded, agreeing with her husband. Did the two of them really want to act innocent and play dumb? They acted as if they didn’t remember the contract.

“Don’t lie to my face Lord Stark,” she made a step towards the tall man and looked into his grey eyes. “Or are you not as honorable as your son Lord Eddard? He surely wouldn’t act the way you’re acting right now: he is too honorable to act as if he had forgotten something so important,” her blood was boiling as she continued looking into Rickard’s eyes, wanting an answer.

“Lady Lannister, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man replied again. “And I can guarantee you that I try to be just as honorable as my son: it makes me proud that you think so highly of him,” he even curled his lips into a small smile, making Joanna fume even more.

“Do you really want to play games with me now Lord Stark?!” she gritted out.

“I don’t know what you mean Lady Lannister,” the man even looked at her in confusion, and Joanna snapped.

“It doesn’t matter,” she made another step towards the head of house Stark. “We will match the offer the Targaryens made,” the words were said louder than she had intended to say them, but it felt good to see Rickard Stark’s eyes widen in surprise — just like the eyes of his wife. “We want the betrothal of Lord Eddard and our daughter Cersei, and you know we can afford to support you during winters without a problem.”

It was then that Joanna felt Tywin take a firm grip on her arm again.

“Lord Stark, Lady Stark, please forgive my wife for the outburst,” he said in a calm and collected tone. “Maybe you have a… more private place? A place where we can talk without having to worry about little birds with very good ears,” Joanna looked at Lyarra Stark who still seemed completely confused while her husband just nodded.

“Follow me,” Rickard Stark simply said before turning around, taking hold of his wife’s arms to pull her with him just as Tywin did with Joanna.

Joanna was surprised when a short man suddenly appeared, standing in front of them. The man was wearing a dark green cloak, and his face was so deep within his hood that it was unrecognizable: it could very well have been a woman for all Joanna knew. It looked as if the man was guarding the entrance to a smaller tent within Rickard’s tent.

“We need privacy,” Lord Stark said, and the figure moved to the side, the tent opening as if by magic. Joanna slowly followed Tywin into the small room, surprised when the tent closed again behind her.

“I assume you told your wife, Tywin?” Lord Stark suddenly asked her husband who gave a small nod.

“And I assume you didn’t tell your wife, Rickard?” Tywin asked back with a raised brow as his eyes shortly moved to Lyarra Stark.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t know what all this is about?” Lyarra Stark suddenly growled, and she looked at her husband with hard eyes.

“Well,” Rickard sighed as he turned towards his wife. “Tywin and I made a deal moons ago. We already signed a contract to betroth Lady Cersei to Ned, but this couldn’t be publicly announced,” he told his wife, and Joanna was sure she could see fire in Lyarra Stark’s eyes.

“You betrothed our son without my involvement, and didn’t think it was necessary to talk with me about it?” The other woman growled out and stepped closer to Rickard. “NO!” Lyarra suddenly shouted, and her index finger poked in the middle of her husband's chest. “You didn’t even think it was necessary to at least inform me about what you had done,” Joanna watched in surprise.

“Lyarra,” Rickard said in a soft tone.

“Don’t you dare ‘Lyarra’ me, Rickard Stark,” Lyarra growled out, and Joanna slowly started to like the woman who was currently scolding her husband.

“Please listen,” Rickard attempted once more, but Joanna could see the pure fury in the other woman — and she could understand why. She would have been the same with Tywin had he not told her.

“Lady Stark,” her husband suddenly interfered. “I think I know why Rickard didn’t tell you, mayhaps you can give us a chance to explain?” Joanna was surprised by that, but anger flared up inside her again.

“Does that mean you didn’t tell me everything Tywin?” she demanded of her husband, looking at him now with hard green eyes.

“Why is it that you both made such a secret of this?!” Lyarra demanded to know right after her.

“You both had better have a good explanation — especially now that a second offer is on the table for Lord Eddard’s betrothal,” Joanna growled out.

“A second offer that we can’t simply refuse because you two decided that the existing betrothal needed to be kept secret,” Lyarra added in a low growl.

“I think we should sit down for this discussion,” Rickard Stark said with a sigh, and he nodded towards the desk that was placed in the small room. It had exactly four chairs placed around it, each looking rather comfortable.

Joanna looked at Lyarra, who looked back at her. After a moment they both nodded at one another, and then they walked to the chairs. Without even thinking about it they sat down side by side, waiting for their husbands to take their places on the chairs opposite them.

“You had better have a really good reason — the both of you,” Lyarra growled once more, and Joanna nodded in agreement.

“It all started a few moons ago,” Rickard began, and then he lifted a slip of parchment. “This was brought to me by a crannogman. As you can see there is only a sigil — nothing more,” he said as he placed the slip on the desk and pushed it towards her and Lyarra.

“What does this slip mean?” Lyarra asked after a moment.

“I have never seen this sigil before,” Joanna added and raised a brow.

“This sigil is the sigil of the Old Council,” Rickard continued as he raised a hand, probably anticipating that Joanna had wanted to ask him what the Old Council actually was: she had never heard of it, after all. “My ancestor, King Torrhen Stark, invited all the old houses that he trusted to Greywater Watch before Aegon started his conquest. It was two years before the conquest that Sharra — as ruling regent for her son Ronnel — of House Arryn, Loren I of House Lannister, Mern IX of House Gardener, Argilac of House Durrandon and my ancestor Torrhen of House Stark came together in Greywater Watch,” once more Rickard stopped, and he waited until he got a nod from her and Lyarra, showing that he could continue.

“For three days and nights the rulers discussed Aegon’s letter and his demands, none of them wanting to simply agree and bend the knee. But they also knew that their chances were not the best. House Targaryen’s dragons posed a very large threat to any army. Even though they didn’t want to admit it, they recognized that defeat was the most likely outcome, and they agreed that precautions should be taken,” he said, before pausing again. What Rickard told her impressed Joanna: she had never before heard of something like this.

“It was on the fourth day — well past sunset — when Lord Reed — elected to be the witness of the pact — finally put his signature at the bottom of all six copies of the pact the rulers had agreed upon. This was the moment the Old Council had been founded, each ruler leaving with a copy and a sigil made by the crannogmen; the original pact is still hidden and protected today,” Joanna noticed that even her husband seemed to be interested intently to the story, simply listening to the other man and sometimes nodding.

“As we know, two of the ruling houses were extinguished during the conquest. The remaining three houses met again after the conquest and decided that the Old Council should be kept, but the vacancies shouldn’t be filled with new houses: they didn’t trust any of the newer great houses,” he said. Joanna had to admit it wasn’t hard to understand why they were suspicious about the new great houses.

“It was agreed in the pact that a meeting should only be called in situations where the Old Council might have to intervene, or when overthrowing a regime was deemed to be direly needed,” he finished. Joanna was sure her eyes had gotten as wide as Lyarra’s, her blood suddenly rushing through her body, and she felt cold sweat running down her neck.

“That… you—” her eyes moved to Tywin, green meeting green before her husband simply nodded.

“Tywin informed the Old Council about Aerys’ madness, and that Rhaegar had also shown the first signs. Two successive reigns of madness would break Westeros; it would destroy every hope that we, our children, and future grandchildren would have for peace,” Rickard said, and Tywin nodded once more. All Joanna could do was gulp then.

“But… when?” Lyarra asked, and Joanna looked at the other woman. She didn’t even think about it when she reached over and took hold of her hand. She gently squeezed Lyarra’s hand as they listened to their husbands speak.

“We wait for the right moment, until the Targaryens inevitably give us a reason to rebel,” Tywin answered this time, and Joanna felt Lyarra squeeze her hand tighter.

“The betrothal…” Joanna said with wide eyes, and she looked again at Tywin who nodded.

“For us it was our greatest wish to repair Westeros, to lead it to a time of peace, freedom, and prosperity. We wanted a guarantee that our children and grandchildren won’t live under the rule of madness and tyranny,” Rickard said in a quiet tone.

“It was clear we needed to install a new king: a man who is intelligent and honorable, fair and respected, a leader who can unite the people… and we knew it could not be any of us,” Tywin added.

“And so we talked about candidates. Jon said Elbert wasn’t an option. This was a moment where I couldn’t lie to myself, and so I said the same on the matter of Brandon. Tywin told us Jaime also wasn’t an option,” Rickard sighed. 

“No,” Lyarra gasped, and Joanna squeezed her hand again.

“The Old Council agreed that Lord Eddard Stark shall become king after the rebellion,” Rickard continued, and he looked to Tywin.

“And to prove the loyalty of House Lannister I offered the betrothal of Cersei to Lord Eddard, agreeing to make a contract immediately,” a sigh escaped Joanna’s lips as she shook her head.

“But what shall we do now?” Lyarra asked with a sigh. “I understand why this betrothal needed to be kept secret, but we can’t decline Princess Elia’s offer, it would make us look like fools,” Joanna had to agree with the woman: it would be madness to deny the offer if there was no betrothal.

“We talked about that in the Old Council last night,” Rickard said with another sigh, and Joanna anticipated the worst.

“It was agreed that the offer from the princess will be accepted; Lord Eddard will marry Lady Ashara,” Tywin said, and Joanna now squeezed Lyarra’s hand to stop herself from standing up and slapping Tywin then and there.

“But Cersei—” Joanna tried, and Tywin interrupted her with a raised hand.

“The contract we have — the betrothal to Cersei — will still be honored, and Lord Eddard will marry her after the rebellion,” he finished. Joanna was so shocked she was speechless.

“But what about Ashara?” Lyarra asked, and now squeezed Joanna’s hand. “You can’t just toss the poor girl away after the rebellion: she is no puppet for you to play with.” Joanna realized Lyarra had taken a liking to Lady Dayne.

“That is not what we have planned,” Rickard said, and Joanna’s eyes got wide.

“You don’t mean that…” she shook her head while looking at Ned’s father.

“The old gods do not forbid it, and they have never punished a King of Winter for taking multiple wives, so we think Ned should marry them both; the first born son will become his heir,” Joanna blinked once, twice, and then a laugh escaped her lips, and everyone’s attention was on her.

“Yesterday I talked with Lord Eddard. We actually talked about Cersei and Ashara,” she started with a smile. “I told him that I think Cersei and Lady Ashara could become good friends if they weren’t so stubborn,” another laugh escaped Joanna’s lips while she noticed that even Tywin’s lips twitched as he tried to hold back a smile.

“Actually,” Joanna finally calmed down and looked at everyone in the room. “I think you two morons,” she looked at both men and then to Lyarra who nodded, “made a good decision. Lord Eddard should marry both of them, but before that happens, they need to become friends,” Joanna said with a smile on her face.

“And how shall that be done?” Tywin asked her with a raised brow. “They had years in King’s Landing and didn’t become friends.”

“But in King’s Landing they had no common ground besides their contest of beauty,” Joanna answered with a smile. “Here they both will try to win Lord Eddard, and if I judge him correctly, they may have to work together to get Lord Eddard to understand that they are actually interested in him, and don’t simply want to use him to get closer to someone else,” she continued and Tywin nodded slowly.

“And while they work together, they build a friendship,” her husband said thoughtfully.

“I’m sure we could ask princess Elia to keep the betrothal a secret until the end of the tourney,” Lyarra added after a moment of silence.

“We can tell her we would like to make it a big announcement, and that we think the best possibility to do this — while still respecting Lord Whent — would be the last feast in Harrenhal,” Rickard offered, and Joanna thought it a good idea.

“I agree,” her husband said.

“Me too,” Lyarra slowly added.

“It is the best option, so count me in,” Joanna finally agreed.

A sigh escaped both men as Rickard got up.

“I need a drink; is it okay if I pour one for each of us?” he asked as he got four cups out and filled them with a Northern spirit before simply handing each of them one.

“To new alliances,” Rickard said, and everyone took a sip.

“And to new friendship,” Joanna said as she turned to Lyarra and raised her cup again, clinking it with the Northern woman’s cup.

The four of them spent a bit more time together, just talking before Joanna and Tywin decided that it was time to leave. They needed to make sure Jaime didn’t do anything stupid… again.

Catelyn I

Camp of House Stark

Catelyn had arrived at Harrenhal the previous day. Her father sadly wasn’t able to accompany her, Lysa, and Brynden — their uncle. He told them he had some important things to take care of, and that these couldn’t be deferred.

As sad as Catelyn was about her father not accompanying them, she was happy he had also decided Petyr would stay at his side and not travel with them. Catelyn and Petyr had been really good friends while growing up, but since her betrothal to Brandon Stark the boy she grew up with had changed.

The innocent boy was gone, replaced by a liar and cheater. More than once Petyr had tried to impress her with money — money he probably had not gained in any legal way. She also felt as if he was following her, always appearing when she least anticipated it, even when she only wanted to hide and have a moment for herself.

It was creepy and made her nervous — so nervous she had actually gone to her father and told him. She had hoped he would talk with Petyr, but her father had just dismissed it, telling her she shouldn’t grow paranoid because of a boy living with them.

Her uncle Brynden had reacted differently. The Blackfish — as most called her uncle — wanted to talk with the boy, even though Catelyn had the feeling that the talk might actually be more of a beating. In the end she had calmed her uncle down again, agreeing to his compromise of having guards around her and patrolling more often around her chamber.

Catelyn shook her head with a sigh; these thoughts shouldn't occupy her mind on such a beautiful day. The sun was just rising over the grounds of Harrenhal, and birds were singing their songs while life slowly started to come into the various camps.

She stopped when her eyes fell upon a banner dominated by a huge direwolf’s head — the banner of House Stark. For a moment she just stood there and looked at the banner. Mayhaps she should take a stroll through the camp and look for her betrothed? 

She had never met Brandon; she had only heard tales about the eldest son of House Stark. He was described as tall with a broad chest, muscled without any traces of fat. It was said his hair was brown and wild — reaching his shoulders — while a full beard made his face look rough, but at the same time handsome.

All she had heard about Brandon had caused her to imagine him in her mind, the tall Northern man — thought a savage by many but in reality honorable and noble — who only had eyes for her. A man who would never stray from her bed, who would keep her warm in the cold of the North.

Did he also think about her? Did he want to know how she looked?

After a moment Catelyn decided it was time to finally meet her betrothed; there was nothing bad about visiting your betrothed and his family — even if it was still early in the morning and the sun was just rising.

She slowly walked through the Northern camp, surprised by how clean the camp was compared to others she had passed on her stroll. It was clear the Starks respected nature and their surroundings, unlike many other houses.

After walking for a bit she noticed the Starks had set their camp close to the Gods Eye. The biggest tents were the closest to it, and Catelyn was sure these must be the tents of the Starks.

Catelyn got a bit nervous and walked a bit more to the side, putting a bit more distance between her and the tents. “Yes, it would be better to look from the side and see if a visit would be welcomed and appreciated,” Catelyn thought, as after all, it was possible the Starks weren’t even awake at this hour, and she didn’t want to disturb them.

Her eyes were still fixed on the Stark tents while she walked — trying to stay hidden — between other tents. Catelyn hadn’t noticed how close she was to the Gods Eye until she had nearly walked into a tree. Her eyes widened as she stopped at the last second, her hands pressed against the trunk of a tree.

“You were right, it is good to get in the water so early,” a booming voice suddenly said, and Catelyn pressed herself against the trunk, hoping it hid her.

“It always helps me to clear my mind,” another voice — a bit deeper than the one before — replied.

“Maybe one of them is Brandon?” Catelyn thought, and a light blush came to her cheeks as she imagined her betrothed right there in the water. “It won’t hurt anyone if I get a bit closer and take a peek,” she thought, and she suddenly felt bold. After looking around and making sure no one had noticed her, she sneaked to the next tree, then the next, and another one, until she was as close as she could get in the cover of the trees.

Catelyn took another deep breath before she finally dared to lean out on one side and look towards the Gods Eye. As expected she saw two young men, but what surprised her was that both were actually walking out of the water and towards her.

Both men were tall — and probably of an equal height — but one was… different — in a good way.

He had dark brown hair that reached his shoulders and framed his long face. Somehow the full beard made him look rougher and wilder, fitting the land he came from.

“This can only be Brandon,” Catelyn thought as her eyes kept moving over the man’s body. It was hard not to notice that her betrothed was well-trained, his arms big and his shoulders broad. Hair covered his equally broad chest and tapered into a small strip as it moved down along his abs and disappeared within the smallclothes he was still wearing — as if they wanted her to pull them down.

Thanks to the water, the smallclothes of both men were clinging to them, and what Catelyn saw made her smirk while her cheeks at the same time grew as red as her hair. It was clear to see that her betrothed was bigger than the man next to him, but ‘big’ actually seemed like an understatement.

“Brandon is huge,” Catelyn thought. If she was honest, she had never thought it possible for a man to be so… blessed by the gods.

“We should return to your tent my friend; your parents won’t appreciate it if we walk around like this after everyone has woken up,” the other man with black hair suddenly said, and he gave Brandon a strong slap on the shoulder. Yet Brandon took it without moving a single inch. If he hadn’t smiled and turned to the other man, Catelyn wouldn’t be sure he had even noticed it.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t waste anymore time,” he said, and Catelyn suddenly panicked. She moved behind the tree again and looked around. 

“By the seven, I don’t want to get caught,” Catelyn thought, and she suddenly rushed back towards the camp and through a few tents. She searched for cover at the side of one of the taller tents, hoping nobody would notice her.

After some time she heard the two men again, the black haired one making a jape before the opening of a tent rustled. Catelyn slowly dared to look towards the biggest tents of the Stark camp, and she noticed it seemed to be safe to come out of her hiding place.

She slowly approached the tents again, determined to now just stand in front of them and wait until someone came out so she could introduce herself and tell them she would like to meet her betrothed in person.

With a small smile on her face Catelyn walked towards the tents and stopped close to their entrance. At first she thought she had imagined the muffled voices, but then she made a few steps closer to the biggest tent. Now it was clear people were talking inside the tent.

“It doesn’t matter,” a female voice said. “We will match the offer the Targaryens made.” After a moment Catelyn remembered that earlier today there had been rumors the Targaryens had made a betrothal offer to the Starks. “We want the betrothal of Lord Eddard and our daughter Cersei, and you know we can afford to support you during winters without a problem.”

Catelyn’s eyes opened wide when she realized what she had just heard. The rumors of the Targaryen offer were true, and now the Lannisters had matched the offer in an attempt to get their daughter betrothed to Brandon’s younger brother.

She simply had to tell Lysa this news; who would have expected the second son of House Stark would garner such interest? The only thing she knew about Lord Eddard was that he was described as a plain and shy young man, whose family called him the quiet wolf, but either those rumors were incorrect, or something must have changed.

More and more people had woken up, and the camp of House Stark had become busier. Catelyn only hoped nobody paid too much attention to her as she sneaked away from the camp. Without wasting any time she went back to the camp of her own house, and made her way back into her tent where Lysa was just getting ready for the day.

“Lysa,” she said, and she looked behind herself to make sure nobody had followed her. “I was just in the Stark camp, and you won't believe what I overheard,” and with that Catelyn told her sister that there was an offer for the betrothal of Lord Eddard from House Targaryen, but also from House Lannister.

“I think we should make it known the Lannisters also made an offer,” her sister said with a small smirk on her face that worried Catelyn.

Chapter Text

Robert III

Stark Camp

“I didn’t think it would be so enjoyable to go for an early swim,” Robert said with a smile as he got dressed within Ned’s tent.

“Well, I remember a Robert who would have fallen deeply into his cup the previous night and still need a few more hours before getting up, so you simply never know,” came an amused reply from Ned who was just fastening his belt.

“Thank you,” blue eyes looked into grey ones as Robert said that. “For talking with me and not holding back: I needed that,” now Ned laughed and simply walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me for being honest Robert,” his friend said in his deep voice. “I should have talked with you a lot earlier. I was worried I might lose my best friend and chosen brother,” a smile came to Robert’s lips when Ned said that.

“Well, never fear that. You will never lose me,” and with those words Robert simply gave Ned a hug — a hug that was tightly returned by his best friend. For a moment they stood like this before letting go and laughing again.

“Ned,” Lady Lyarra suddenly called. “Would you please join me and your father,” even if it had been a request Robert knew Ned would have hurried to comply, and so he just nodded.

“Let’s talk later,” he said as Ned pulled on his tunic and a vest before he hurried to his parents.

With a smile Robert pulled on his own tunic and a vest in the colors of his House over his head. He thought he should perhaps go to his vassals and talk with them for a bit, to show them their liege cared about them and they don’t need Connington.

Robert had just left Ned’s tent and was walking towards the path out of the Stark Camp when he spotted her. Tall, raven-black hair and fair skin combined with purple eyes: this could only be Ashara Dayne, one of the two women Ned had talked about until they had fallen asleep the previous night.

After shortly checking his surroundings he approached her.

“Lady Dayne,” he greeted with a small smile. “I’m sure you wish to visit Ned, but mayhaps you could spare me a moment to talk in private first?” Robert didn’t wait for her answer as he offered his arm.

“Lord Baratheon,” the woman said with a surprised tone, but she still took the offered arm.

“It seems the weather will be fine today, don’t you agree?” Robert asked as he led her a bit away from the tent towards the trees that were close to the Gods Eye.

“It seems so; the temperature is already nice and it surely will get warmer as the sun rises,” the lady answered with a small smile on her lips.

“Perfect to make new friends, or get to know the friends of people you’ve just met,” it was hard to keep his words in a nonchalant tone as he spoke to the woman.

“What do you mean my lord?” she asked him, and Robert had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at her.

“That it’s a perfect day to meet the people you actually want to meet through the man you met yesterday,” the words came harsher than he had wanted, and Robert scolded himself within his mind.

“Lord Baratheon, I really don’t know what you mean, and I would prefer to go back to the camp,” Ashara said and wanted to leave, but Robert stopped her.

Without a thought he had taken a hold of the woman and pushed her against the next tree, his face only inches away from hers as blue eyes looked into purple ones.

“You know what I mean,” he gritted out between his teeth, his arms positioned so she couldn't get away.

“NO!” She answered loudly and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lord Baratheon,” and Robert saw how her eyes moved, searching for someone who would be able to help her, some way to get out of the situation.

“Ned,” as soon as Robert had said it the eyes of the lady got wide and a smirk came to his lips. “He is my best friend, the brother I chose, and who I would follow anywhere — even into death,” it was hard to not just shout at Ashara now that she looked at him with wide eyes, trying to act all innocent.

“Last night he talked about you, the time you two spent together and how nice the walk with you had been,” Robert shook his head. “Ned might be a second son, but he doesn’t deserve you using him just to get closer to me and Brandon,” he took a deep breath, trying to hold his anger back.

“Lord Baratheon, I can assure you—” but Ashara couldn’t say anything else as Robert interrupted her.

“Stop it,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear any lies or I might snap,” and Robert meant it, he was already on edge. “Ned is a good and honorable man — a man who deserves to be loved and not used.”

“But Lord Bara-” again Robert interrupted her.

“I won’t watch you use and hurt him,” Robert then thundered loudly, unable to contain his anger. “What do you want from Ned?! What?! I’m very happy to be engaged to his sister! And if it’s his brother… I wish you a lot of luck with the biggest asshole I’ve met in my life: he will fuck you and throw you away like a toy he doesn’t want anymore,” once Robert had been the same, but Ned had changed him.

“I don’t want you or Ned’s brother,” Ashara suddenly growled back, and she looked into his eyes with a new fire in her purple ones.

“Then what do you want from him?!” came Robert’s immediate answer.

“I WANT NED!” The young woman shouted at him before her eyes got wide for a second before they returned to normal, a fire still in them. “It might sound odd to you, but I don’t care about him being a second son. What I care about is him: I want to see him happy, to make him happy,” Ashara mumbled with a sigh.

Robert stood silently, waiting for her to continue.

“I’ve never felt something like this before Lord Baratheon,” she finally admitted. “From the moment I met Ned I felt drawn to him, and with every moment we spent together… those feelings only grew stronger.”

“If you hurt him—” this time it was Robert who was interrupted by her.

“I will never hurt Ned,” Robert saw the determination that had joined the fire in her eyes when she said that.

“If you do, I will make your life worse than the seven hells,” he answered in a hard tone.

“When will you understand it?! Before I hurt Ned, I would jump from the Palestone Sword Tower in Starfall,” Ashara gritted out. “I. WILL. NEVER. HURT. HIM!” she shouted, putting special emphasis on every single word. “I love him,” she suddenly followed in a low mumble, and Robert’s eyes got wide for a moment before he nodded.

“I believe you,” he said, and tried to hold back a smile. “But,” he forced himself to keep from smiling now, “you’ve been warned, and this warning will never be over: If you hurt him, you will feel my wrath.”

“He should be happy to have a friend like you,” Ashara answered, and Robert was surprised, now a small blush coming to his cheeks, unable to hold back the smile anymore.

“Thank you Lady Dayne,” he answered as he finally moved to the side. “Would you allow me to escort you back to Ned’s tent?” This time he didn’t offer his arm, but was surprised when Ashara simply placed her hand on his with a small smile.

“I’m sorry for my outburst, and for scaring you,” Robert said as they were slowly walking back towards the camp.

“I meant what I said Lord Baratheon,” she answered with a smile. “Ned should be happy to have a friend like you: not many men would make sure a woman wasn’t just using their friend.”

“Robert,” he said as he looked at her and returned her smile. “My friends call me Robert, and I hope you and I will become friends,” his other hand moved to the back of his head as he scratched it. “I wouldn’t want to be enemies with the woman my best friend might marry someday,” he admitted.

“I would like that, Robert,” Ashara said, and he saw how a small blush covered her cheeks, and somehow Robert had a feeling she didn’t just mean them becoming friends, but also the thought of becoming Ned’s wife.

“If I can ever help you with anything involving Ned,” Robert said in a quiet tone. “I will be happy to help you the best I can: he deserves happiness.” Ned’s tent came into view, and he saw how Ashara nodded.

“I wish you a pleasant day, Lady Dayne; I will return to my bannermen,” Robert made to leave when she stopped him.

“Ashara; my friends call me Ashara,” she said with a smile. “And I wish you a pleasant day as well, Robert.”

Robert smiled and gave a nod before finally leaving the Stark Camp.

Lyarra II

Stark Camp

She had been furious at her husband at first, but as time  passed her anger cooled and she understood why he had kept it a secret. It was not about not trusting her: it was about keeping her safe in case anyone found out.

If she had known it earlier she might not have become such a fierce supporter of Lady Ashara, but now that she knew the young lady and had seen how she interacted with her son… there was simply no way she would deny her son the happiness of that match with Lady Ashara.

She would make sure that nobody took her from him:  not even her husband and Tywin Lannister with their secret deals.

“I asked Ned to join us,” she told her husband. “And you will stay here with me; don’t you even dare to think of some problem that urgently needs your attention,” a low growl came with the words, making sure Rickard understood it as a warning.

“Lyar—” her husband had started, but shut up as soon as he saw the way she looked at him.

“Think well about what you’re saying,” she said in a quiet tone. “Because one wrong word, and you won’t share a bed with me for quite some time,” her husband’s eyes widened, and she had to hold back a smirk.

As hard and rough as her husband might seem, he hated it if he couldn’t hold her during the night. He always hated if they couldn’t sleep together, but since Benjen’s birth he simply wouldn’t accept it anymore.

Lyarra knew this was caused by the issues she’d had after the birth. Rickard and her children had been worried she wouldn’t survive. Even she thought she might be dead by now if a crannogman hadn’t come to Winterfell and taken care of her.

After the passing of Maester Walys — he had sadly slipped on the frozen stairs that led to his solar — they hadn’t requested a new Maester from the Citadel. Instead, a crannogman had taken over the position in Winterfell, and her husband seemed more than happy with the work the man did.

“I’m sorry,” her husband said and walked towards her. “The only thing I thought about was your safety and that of our children,” a sigh followed the words. “I know I wronged you, and that I should’ve told you,” he slowly wrapped his arms around her, and Lyarra didn’t protest, but she also didn’t return the gesture. “All I can do is promise you that something like this will never happen again,” his grey eyes were soft, showing that he really felt guilty about what he had done.

“Fool,” Lyarra muttered and then simply kissed her husband and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re lucky I really do love you and because of that I’ll forgive you. But only this once: I won’t forgive something like this again,” she whispered before kissing him once.

“Ahem,” could be heard from the entrance, and Lyarra let go of her husband. “Mother, father,” Ned said with a small smile on his lips. “You requested my presence?” Their son slowly approached them.

“Ned,” the smile on her lips just got bigger upon seeing what a fine man her son had become. “I should’ve expected you wouldn’t keep us waiting long, unlike your siblings,” a laugh escaped her lips and she even saw a small smirk come to her husband's lips.

“I know you wouldn’t come and ask me to join you if it wasn’t important,” her son answered, but she also saw the small smirk on his lips. It was an open secret that Ned was the most serious and dutiful of the Stark siblings, something that Lyarra and Rickard were very proud of.

“It is very important,” her husband answered in his lord voice and then nodded towards his desk. “Let’s take a seat,” and Lyarra felt how he laid his arm around her waist and led her to his desk. Rickard surprised her when he took one of the chairs and placed it on his side of the desk, right next to his. Her husband even pulled the chair out for her before he sat down himself. Ned was the last of them to sit down, waiting for a nod from Rickard.

For a moment it was silent. Lyarra saw how Ned’s eyes moved between her and Rickard, waiting for one of them to speak and tell him why they wanted to talk with him.

“Ned,” Lyarra finally began when her husband stayed silent. “As you know you’re not yet betrothed,” Ned only nodded at her words.

“Yes,” her son replied before he continued. “I was a bit surprised there has thus far been no announcement, but I’m sure you and father had your reasons,” her son shortly looked down at his lap. “And I know the interest in a second son isn’t as high as it would be for a firstborn son or a daughter,” he mumbled before he looked up again.

Lyarra’s heart broke when she realized her sweet Ned really thought that he was worth less than Brandon and Lyanna because he was a second son. A rough and calloused hand wrapped around hers and gave it a squeeze: she knew her husband had noticed how much that sentence had hurt her.

“That isn’t the reason Ned,” Rickard said. “I have to admit that there is actually more interest in you than there has been in Brandon,” Lyarra saw Ned’s eyes widen in surprise when his father said that.

“And that is why we asked you to come here today,” she quickly added before Ned could say anything. “You might hear rumors about your father and me being in talks for your betrothal, so don’t worry about not being betrothed thus far. We all know you'll do your duty to House Stark when the time comes,” Lyarra said and smiled at her son.

“Are you okay, son?” Rickard asked next to her when Ned had not responded in any way.

“I…” Ned looked at them both again, his eyes suddenly hiding any emotion or traces of thoughts. “As you said I will do my duty to House Stark,” he answered in a calm and neutral tone. “I thank you for informing me that you’re in talks about my betrothal; I will patiently await your decision,” the way Ned reacted gave Lyarra the feeling he might be interested in a lady already.

“Mayhaps Lady Ashara has already claimed his heart as hers?” Lyarra thought while she watched her son silently. “Or perhaps Lady Cersei?” She looked towards her husband for a second. “Or maybe a girl from the Vale? He has lived there for so long. Things can happen if you think you’re just an uninteresting second son,” the thought that Ned thought so little of himself again tore at her heart, a sigh escaping her lips as her husband squeezed her hand gently.

“Ned,” Lyarra stood up and let go of Rickard’s hand before walking to her son. “We wanted to inform you earlier,” she said as she knelt down in front of him and took one of his hands, looking into his eyes.

“But we thought it would be better if we told you personally instead of sending a raven,” she looked up and saw Rickard standing behind their son, his hands on Ned’s shoulders.

“And I’m thankful you told me in person,” Ned finally said, and his eyes got soft again, a small smile coming to his lips. “I’m just…” he looked at her and then turned to look at his father. “I’m just surprised that anyone has expressed interest in me,” Ned finally admitted.

Lyarra looked at Rickard and she saw sadness in his eyes when their son said that.

“Ned,” her husband said in his deep voice that suddenly showed so many of the emotions he normally hid. “You need to stop thinking you’re worth less than Brandon because you’re my second son,” her husband let go of Ned’s shoulders and moved around, kneeling next to her and taking Ned’s other hand into his. “Jon regularly sent me letters about you and your progress, how you simply excelled in everything the maester taught you, and later in the things Jon taught you himself. Let’s also not forget the advanced lessons Jon arranged for you on top of those,” her husband’s voice showed pride while his eyes were locked on Ned’s.

Lyarra didn’t dare say a thing, the way father and son looked at each other: she knew they were having a silent talk. It was a thing between her husband and Ned. They didn’t need words if they could look into one another's eyes.

“You can’t imagine how proud I am of you, my son,” Rickard said and ruffled Ned’s haid which earned him a small smile from Ned.

“Don’t forget me,” Lyarra interfered with a small smirk. “I’m also proud of our son,” she put a special emphasis on the word ‘our’ before she ruffled Ned’s hair. Ned simply laughed and Lyarra joined in, Rickard following a moment later.

“I love you both,” Ned said with a smile on his face.

“And we love you,” she replied in the same moment as her husband and then pulled Ned up with them before simply hugging him.

“Now off you go and enjoy your time here; I’m sure your friends are already waiting for you,” Lyarra said as she let go of Ned and Rickard followed her example, giving a nod.

“Thank you for talking with me father, mother,,” Ned said with a smile. “I wish you both a wonderful day,” a small bow followed before Ned turned around and left their tent.

As soon as Ned was outside she felt how her husband pulled her against him, hugging her and placing gentle kisses on her lips.

“You don’t know how much I love you,” he whispered against her lips and Lyarra laughed.

“I do, and I love you just as much my sweet fool of a husband,” she whispered before she kissed him more passionately, pushing him towards the back of their tent where their bed was looking rather inviting.

Chapter Text

Cersei III

Lannister Camp

To say Cersei was fuming would be an understatement. She had been happy when she’d woken up today, but then one of the maids had told her about the rumor going around.

A rumor about Ned and Ashara.

Somehow Ashara had gotten Rhaegar to make the Starks a betrothal offer — an offer that even included the hand of the crown prince's daughter Rhaenys. The little princess would marry the firstborn son of Ashara and Ned, fulfilling an old pact the Targaryens had made with the Starks.

Cersei was sure Elia had also had her hand in this — how else would Rhaegar even have gotten the idea? She had seen with her own eyes that he barely cared about anything besides prophecies. She would be amazed if he had even noticed the Starks were in Harrenhal.

Then suddenly he makes such an offer? Ashara had clearly played her — probably because she feared she would lose their battle for Ned. She should have anticipated something like this. Ashara had staked a claim to him from the moment she saw him — when Cersei herself had still thought him a brutish barbarian from the North.

Still, Ned wasn’t a brutish barbarian; he had actually impressed her during the dinner they had shared with her parents. He had shown he was well mannered, had clearly been taught in the art of conversation, but was also gallant enough to help her little brother Tyrion when he’d had trouble cutting his venison.

To make things even better, he had also offered to introduce Tyrion to his younger brother, and if the boy was anything like Ned, then Cersei was sure Tyrion and the boy would become the best of friends over the days they spent in Harrenhal. It would be good to finally see Tyrion having a friend: too many people judged him before knowing him.

Now Ashara had taken the chance of getting to know Ned better away from her, instead of making it a fair contest to win Ned’s heart she had simply used her best friend and the crown prince to get what she’d wanted.

Cersei felt tears running down her cheek, but she didn’t care. It hurt so much she couldn’t keep herself from crying during this moment of loss — the loss of a man that she might have loved had they been granted enough time to get to know one another.

“Cersei?” she heard her mother ask from the entrance to her tent, and she sniffed, trying to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand before she looked up.

“I’m here, mother,” was all she could say in a broken voice, scolding herself in her mind for showing such weakness over a man she had met only the day before.

“Oh dear,” her mother said. The soft tone of her mother’s words told her that the tears were still running, and that she probably looked like a mess. “What happened sweetie?” Her mother asked as soon as she was in front of her and took her hands.

“Nothing,” Cersei said, and she sniffled again, trying to look away and hide her face from her mother.

“Cersei, I’m your mother,” she felt how the mattress of her bed went down when her mother sat down beside her. “I know when something isn’t okay,” an arm was gently wrapped around her, and Cersei felt herself pulled towards her mother.

“It’s childish,” Cersei mumbled, but she turned towards her mother, looking down at the bed.

“I don’t think so,” her mother answered in her gentle voice, and Cersei felt a hand move under her chin to gently lift her head. “Is this about a certain young man?” A knowing glint was in her mother’s green eyes while a small smile played on her lips.

“At the dinner yesterday, he helped Tyrion and offered to introduce him to his younger brother,” Cersei mumbled while looking into her mother’s eyes. “He was well mannered and still so…” no words to describe Ned came to Cersei’s mind as she looked at her mother.

“Different?” The smile was still on her mother’s lips while she looked at Cersei.

“Yes,” she slowly nodded in agreement. “But not in a bad way,” she added with a sigh. “I—I thought maybe he might be an option,” Cersei finally mumbled, and she tried to look anywhere but into her mother’s eyes.

“An option for?” The tone of her mother’s voice gave away that she already thought she knew Cersei’s answer. An encouraging smile was on her mother’s lips when Cersei looked at her again.

“As…” Cersei looked away again, and she took a deep breath before she looked at her mother once more. “I thought Ned — I mean Lord Eddard — might actually be a candidate for a future marriage,” she felt her cheeks heat. “He seemed like a good man,” it was an attempt at an explanation she felt the need to give.

“And why do you think he isn’t an option anymore?” her mother then asked and Cersei felt tears threatening to fall again.

“Because—” a sob escaped her lips as she couldn’t hold back her tears. “Because the Targaryens made the Starks a betrothal offer — everyone is talking about it,” with those words she flung herself into her mother’s arms, hiding her face in her mother’s neck. Her mother said nothing, only wrapping her arms around her, hands moving in small circles on her back.

“I heard about that too,” her mother whispered when Cersei had calmed down a bit again. “And that is why your father and I visited the Starks earlier today,” the words were whispered into Cersei’s ear, loud enough for only her to hear.

“You and father visited the Starks?” Cersei asked as she moved a bit away, looking at her mother once more.

“Yes,” her mother confirmed with a nod. “We talked with them about the offer the Targaryens presented for the betrothal of Lord Eddard and Lady Ashara,” finally her mother let go of her, gripping her hands while looking into her eyes.

“They’ve already accepted, haven’t they?” Cersei only mumbled, and she felt tears at the corners of her eyes again.

“I don’t think so. At the very least they listened to the offer your father and I made,” a small smile was on her mother’s lips again.

“You made them an offer?” Cersei asked, and she was surprised by the excitement that accompanied her words.

“Yes, and they informed us that they haven’t made a decision thus far,” the smile on her mother’s lips grew.

“That means…” she didn’t want to say what she hoped for.

“It means the Starks are considering our offer and that you shouldn’t give up hope over rumors and gossip” a moment later Cersei was hugging her mother again.

“Thank you,” she just whispered to her mother. “Thank you so much.” Not all hope was lost. With both offers on the table and under consideration, she could get to know Ned better, and perhaps win him for herself — at least if he kept impressing her like he had during the dinner they had shared with her parents. If she discovered that it was all just an act, she would simply forget about him and leave him to Ashara. Still, somehow she was sure it hadn’t been an act from Ned.

“But Cersei,” her mother pulled her out of her thoughts. “This isn’t a guarantee that the Starks will accept our offer,” as always her mother was the voice of reason. “You now know that you have a chance: don’t waste it by being too arrogant and self-assured about it,” it was clear that this was meant as a motherly warning and a lesson in the same moment.

Cersei was silent, sure her mother had more to say.

“What I mean, Cersei,” her mother continued after a moment “is that you won’t win Eddard’s heart by being a haughty girl. Be yourself, but also try to grow and learn from him. Eddard might be a noble, but he is a very humble man, and I think that is one of the primary reasons he is such a good man — and a good candidate for you,” her mother gently squeezed her hands. “I know this might sound a bit odd. Your father and I always raised you to appreciate your noble birth and being from our great house. But we seemingly forgot to teach you that being humble is also important,” with that her mother moved to stand up.

“I think you should freshen yourself up  — and perhaps change your dress — before you go out and mayhaps take a look for Eddard. I’m sure he would enjoy a walk with you and a chance to get to know you better,” with a smile her mother let go of her hands before leaving her tent.

Ashara III

Stark Camp & Elia’s Chamber

The confrontation with Robert had been a surprise and definitely a shock. She hadn’t anticipated that Ned’s best friend would corner her like that and doubt her interest in Ned. 

“Why should he act as if I was interested in Ned just to get closer to someone else?” The thought alone made no sense to Ashara. Sure, she had enjoyed flirting in King’s Landing, but there had never been more. She hadn’t lost her virtue, nor had she used any of the many men who’d thrown themselves at her.

“What sort of person would use a person only to get someone else?” She couldn’t break someone's heart and trust for no reason. No, Ashara didn’t even want to imagine why someone would do that. It was simply a horrible thing — a thing that could destroy a person completely, and likely turn even a good person cold and hard.

“I would never do that to Ned,” Ashara thought to herself. “And even though Robert was scary, it is good to know Ned has such a good friend who wants to protect him from the bad of this world. It reminds me of El—” the thought was interrupted by two voices that said the name she had just thought.

“The Starks had dinner with Princess Elia last night, at least that’s what I heard,” a female voice said. That was not news to Ashara — she had accompanied the Starks after all.

“Well, did you also hear that Crown Prince Rhaegar made an offer to the Starks?” The other female asked as they slowly came into view from behind the tents.

“No, what did he offer them?” It was the brown haired one who asked her blonde friend intrigued, pulling Ashara’s attention more to them.

“According to the rumor, the crown prince offered the hand of his daughter to the first born son of Lord Eddard and his betrothed,” the blonde answered with a smile.

“But I thought Lord Eddard isn’t betrothed thus far? Or did the Starks find a Northern lady already?” the brunette asked in a surprised tone.

“That’s the thing,” and now Ashara was really on edge as it seemed the woman knew more about Ned’s betrothal status than she did. “Prince Rhaegar made the offer conditional on Lord Eddard being betrothed to Lady Ashara Dayne,” as soon as she heard that Ashara’s eyes grew wide.

She needed a moment to realize that both women were now looking towards her and weren’t saying another word. Ashara at first thought they had recognized her, but a moment later that assumption was proved wrong.

“Ashara?” A thousand men could say her name at the same time, she would always recognize his voice. “Were you looking for someone?” she turned around with a smile on her lips to see Ned standing before her.

“Yes,” she said. “I was looking for you, but…” she took hold of his rough and calloused hands while she felt as if her smile got even bigger. “I forgot that Elia had actually asked me to join her for breakfast today,” with that she went onto her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “But after that I will come back and we can talk,” another kiss to his other cheek followed, and she noticed how he blushed before she turned around to hurry back to Elia — her best friend had a lot of explaining to do.

People were looking at her in surprise: she was a lot faster compared to the previous day — thanks to a more simple dress combined with shorter heels that made running easier.

Arthur hadn’t even stopped her when she had turned into the floor where Elia’s chambers were placed. It was when Lewyn Martell came into view that she slowed down and finally came to a halt in front of him.

“Lady Ashara,” the older knight greeted her with a nod of his head, a small smile on his lips as if he had already expected her to come and see Elia. “The princess is already awaiting you inside,” with that the knight of the kingsguard turned around and opened the door. “Lady Ashara has arrived,” he announced before stepping to the side.

“Thank you, Ser Lewyn,” Ashara said with a smile as she passed him and her eyes landed on Elia. Her friend was sitting on a comfortable chair at a round table with some bread, fruits, and meat on it. The chair was placed so Elia could look towards the door, her brown eyes looking into Ashara’s purple ones.

“Thank you Ser Lewyn,” Elia said and a moment later the door clicked into its lock again. “Please, take a seat Ashara,” her friend then continued with a smile on her lips as she nodded towards the other chair.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Ashara said before she had even reached the chair, looking directly into Elia’s eyes all the time. “I was just in the Stark Camp,” she told her friend and decided against sitting down, instead pacing up and down the length of the room. “And while I was there, I heard a rumor about a betrothal of our — your — solecito to the firstborn son of Eddard Stark,” Ashara finally stopped in front of Elia and looked at her best friend.

“And what, my dear Ashara, is the issue with that? Lord Eddard has left a very good impression on me, and all I asked had only good things to say about him. Don’t you think a son of his would be the perfect match for my — or as you said our — solecito?” her best friend replied with a raised brow.

“Don’t act as if you don’t know who the boy’s mother would be, and that the mother could have a huge influence on him.” It wasn’t only Elia who could play these games, and so Ashara looked back at her with a raised brow too, but her best friend only laughed.

“Ashara, it is clear you have heard the rumor by now,” Elia said, her lips formed into a smirk. “And so you must also have heard that part of the deal is that Lord Eddard will be betrothed to my most trusted and beloved friend, Lady Ashara Dayne,” with that the smirk turned into a honest smile, and Elia rose from her chair.

“Why?” Ashara asked when Elia gripped her hands.

“Because you deserve happiness in your life Ashara,” was her best friend's reply. “And I’m sure Lord Eddard will do everything in his power to make you happy,” Ashara felt how Elia’s thumbs gently moved over the back of her hand. “With Ned you can live in King’s Landing if you want, or you can go back to Starfall. I feel he would go anywhere with you,” somehow Ashara knew this was true. Ned wouldn’t unilaterally decide they would stay in the north. Ned would talk with her, and they would do what they both agreed upon.

“He is different,” Ashara said, and she felt how a smile came to her lips. “A good kind of different.” With that she raised Elia’s hands. “I don’t know how I will ever be able to thank you for this,” she said before she placed a gentle kiss upon Elia’s knuckles.

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me Ash,” Elia said with a smile. “Especially not before the Starks have accepted the offer I made them.” Elia’s smile got a bit sad. “I’m sorry, but they requested some more time from me, and I didn’t want to pressure them, Ash. I would have preferred to tell you they had already accepted, but we will have to wait.”

Ashara heard that it made Elia sad, but she only shook her head, letting go of her friend's hands to pull her into a tight hug.

“That you even made an offer for me — especially one that includes our solecito,” she whispered into her friend's ear. “I will never be able to thank you enough for simply trying.” If possible she hugged Elia even tighter.

“We both know he adores our solecito,” Elia replied with a gentle and warm tone. “The offer is so good that they really can’t decline it. Putting Rhaenys in was really more to calm my own mind from the fear of her getting a bad husband one day,” her friend finally admitted in a sheepish tone.

A laugh slipped from Ashara’s lips at that, but a second later she nodded.

“I understand, and would’ve done the same,” Ashara even made a step back to look at Elia with a smirk on her lips before she hugged her once more.

“Don’t you want to go visit him?” Elia asked as she ended the hug with a smile and made a step back. “Or do you?” Elia laughed again. “You already went to see him,” she exclaimed and shook her head amused.

“Then I heard the rumor, and I promised him I would come back later,” Ashara admitted with a small smile on her lips.

“Well, you had better keep your promise and return,” Elia said as she took her hand and led her back to the door. “I have some things to take care of that would only bore you my dear friend, so go and try to get to know your wolf a bit better.” With that the door was already opened by her friend, and Ashara felt the gentle push at her back for her to step outside the chamber.

Chapter Text

Lyanna III

Stark Camp

It had seemed like fate when she had seen Robert and Lady Ashara together, walking towards the forest that was right behind her family's camp. Somehow she had hoped that Robert really was stupid enough to seduce the lady this close to their camp.

Lyanna had formed a plan: she would run and get Ned, showing him what an asshole his best friend actually was by going after the woman Ned had talked about so much last night, clearly showing his interest in her. 

If Ned could see Robert with Lady Ashara now, it might even result in a brawl between them, and Ned would banish Robert out of his life before advising their father to end the betrothal between Lyanna and Robert.

In her mind she had already seen herself free from Robert and able to live her life as she wanted it — not like some southern damsel who was only good enough to warm her husband’s bed and birth his children.

She had thought the moment had come when Robert had pushed the lady against a tree, even though she hadn’t wanted to watch the oaf with the lady who had seemingly won her brother's heart, she would wait before going to get Ned. If she got him now and nothing was happening when Ned arrived, he would not believe her anymore.

Then Robert had destroyed her perfect plan! The oaf had confronted Lady Ashara about her intentions, making sure she hadn’t been playing with Ned just to get closer to either him or Brandon. Robert had even warned the woman that he would make her life worse than the seven hells should she hurt Ned.

Lyanna sighed. She didn’t understand why he had acted so differently from how she had imagined him. She had been sure he had only been using her brother, but instead it seemed as if Robert was the most loyal friend that anyone could wish for. He had gone so far as threatening a lady just to make sure his chosen brother wouldn’t be hurt in the event she liked to play games like those stupid ladies at court.

Besides all that, Robert had also admitted that his betrothal to her made him happy. Mayhaps that behavior wasn’t just an act, but an honest portrayal… could that really be? Could the man be happy to be engaged to her?

This all confused her so much, it just didn’t fit into the picture she had drawn of Robert in her mind. He should have been an oaf, trying to get into Lady Ashara’s smallclothes, but instead he seemed more a brother to Ned than Brandon ever had.

“Lady Lyanna,” someone suddenly asked, and she looked up to see Robert just a few feet away, looking at her. “Is everything all right?” the man then asked, his eyes still on her.

“Yes, Lord Robert,” Lyanna replied, and she bit her lower lip as a thought raced through her mind. “Actually, I wanted to have a word with you, and I would have come to you later, but as you’re here already…” With that she raised her hand and beckoned him to come closer.

The young stormlord looked at her surprised, as if he had rather expected her to send him away instead of telling him she had wanted to have a word with him, but he slowly moved, coming closer to her.

“Lord Robert,” she started and got up from the log she was sitting on. “I must ask you to forgive me for my behavior yesterday,” she said as she slowly walked towards him. “It was not my best day, but you shouldn’t have been on the receiving end of my temper,” she said, finally looking into his eyes — they were of a deep blue that reminded her of the sea — and smiling softly.

“Please call me Robert,” he suddenly said to her surprise, his beautiful eyes not once moving away from hers. “You’re my betrothed — my chosen brother’s sister. I want you to call me Robert or whatever you want, but not lord,” the words seemed to be rushed, a bit insecure from the man she had expected to be full of himself and his words.

“Then you will have to call me Lyanna, Robert,” she replied and offered him her arm. “Let us walk and talk; it gets so boring to stay in one place without doing anything,” she added with a smile on her lips.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he agreed as he took her arm, beginning to walk back towards the Gods Eye. It was silent, the young man next to her not loud and boisterous as she had thought. Somehow, it felt as if Robert was shy.

“You know Robert,” she started the conversation as he didn’t seem inclined to do so, “I happened to see you and Lady Ashara earlier. Did you know each other from somewhere already?” She wanted to see what he would say now.

“No, I just happened to meet her when I was on the way back to my camp,” Robert answered. “It wasn’t hard to recognize her after all the things Ned told me last night,” the man quickly added, and Lyanna had to agree with it.

“So you just met her and thought it a good idea to walk alone to the Gods Eye?” She wouldn’t let him get away so easily.

“Ah,” with a smile on his lips Robert turned to her and looked down. “So you saw and followed us,” the words came in an amused tone, no anger about being spied on in them. “Then I think you also know why I thought it necessary to go to a secluded place with her?”

“Let me be honest with you Robert, because I think you deserve my honesty now,” she began and stopped him. For a second she looked around, making sure they were alone. “When I saw you pressing Lady Ashara against that tree, I thought that this would be the moment you would show your true self,” a sigh escaped her lips.

“I guess you didn’t have the best opinion of me?” Robert asked, and again his tone showed no accusation in the words.

“Yes,” Lyanna replied and took a deep breath. “I thought you would take the lady right then and there, thereby proving that you not only didn’t care about me, but also that you were only using Ned, and that you didn’t see him as a friend — and especially not as a chosen brother,” she saw sadness come into his blue eyes. “Now I know that my judgment was wrong,” she somehow felt as if she needed to add this information quickly, but he just shook his head.

“Lyanna,” Robert said and reached for both of her hands. “You had every right to judge me — to think like this about me,” a sigh escaped the man in front of her. “Three name days ago my parents died. I was only sixteen name days old, and I had finally been allowed to visit my home again. I was to leave for the Vale again the next day, the day after they left to find a wife for my cousin, the crown prince,” the man in front of her closed his eyes and sighed.

“Robert,” Lyanna said, but he shook his head, silencing her once more.

“I watched them leave the harbor, saw their ship set sail, and then suddenly a storm arose,” for a moment he had his eyes closed, but then looked into hers again. “Their ship was thrown against the rocks of Shipbreaker Bay. I watched as it was destroyed: I saw how my parents died, and I could do nothing to rescue them,” again he closed his eyes, and this time a single tear ran down his cheek.

“Oh Robert,” she raised her hand — still held by his — and gently brushed the tear away with her thumb. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you,” she whispered as he opened his eyes again.

“That day something broke inside me. I blamed myself; I couldn’t forgive myself for their deaths,” he shook his head. “Even the return to the Vale didn’t help; I just kept drinking as if there was nothing else that could make me happy, ignoring your brother and Jon,” another sigh followed his words. “That was when I met Mya’s mother. She had just lost her husband to disease, and somehow we felt as if we could help each other through our grief,” Robert said as he gently lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. “I vow to you, Lyanna, that I hadn’t even considered a betrothal between us back then. If I had, I would have never done what I did,” he whispered with eyes that showed sadness, regret, and hope for forgiveness.

“I —” Lya started, but again Robert stopped her.

“Ned brought Mya’s mother to the Eyrie. I didn’t even know she was pregnant, but your brother did,” a small smile came to his lips. “Your brother — Ned — he has always been more intelligent than me,” he rumbled with small amusement. “He had found out that she wasn’t well and discussed it with Jon, getting him to agree that she was a welcome guest,” Robert once more closed his eyes. “Mya’s mother died after giving birth to her,” he finished as he looked down, ashamed. 

“I wasn’t even there, I was drunk in some whorehouse or alehouse, but Ned was, and he decided that Mya wouldn’t live the life of a bastard,” his eyes met Lyanna’s again. “Ned said he would take care of her, and if I really could not get out of my stupidity he would claim her as his own to give her a good childhood and life,” Robert took a deep breath. “Your brother brought me back to my old self, helped me quit drinking and whoring around. He made me a better man again,” Robert stopped and tears ran down his cheeks again.

“But what means the most to me is that he was ready to claim my daughter as his just so she would have a good life,” his voice had a new strength. “That is why I would never hurt your brother — why he has my eternal loyalty,” blue eyes again looked into her grey ones, while tears openly ran down the cheeks of the young lord — her betrothed. “He would have taken my child in, and I would do the same for him. We’re not brothers by blood, but we are brothers by choice, and we will never betray each other,” now he raised both her hands.

“I will never hurt you. I will be the best husband you can imagine,” he said with a tone that showed her he meant it, but his next words surprised her more. “I will teach you how to wield a sword, how to participate in a joust, and how to fight in a melee,” a smile was on his lips. “And if you want, we can go hunting together, or simply ride out, race our horses until we find a spot where we want to stop,” the smile stayed on his lips. “I want you to know that you’re not just some trophy for me, I want you as my equal,” and somehow Lyanna believed him. She believed his words that sounded so honest, and she didn’t stop him when he kissed her knuckles again.

“You big oaf,” she just said and pulled her hands from him before hugging him. It was then that Lyanna decided Robert Baratheon deserved a chance, and she started to believe that he might be a better husband than she could ever have wished for.

“As long as I’m your oaf,” he mumbled, and she wasn’t sure whether or not he had taken offense. “I’m very happy,” he finally added, and as he wrapped his strong arms around her, it felt good to know that he wasn’t offended.

Rickard IV

Chambers of Princess Elia

The way to the keep and princess Elia’s chambers felt a lot shorter than it had the previous night. It was as if he had only blinked once and they were already waiting outside the door of the princess’s chambers.

Again it was Lewyn who had received them and informed the princess of their arrival, but this time the princess asked them to wait outside for a moment while she finished whatever was still on her desk.

It was nice to talk with Lewyn for a bit, but soon the door was opened from the inside and Princess Elia stepped outside. Rickard and Lyarra directly bowed in courtesy and greeted her, the princess returning the courtesy with a smile.

“Forgive me,” Elia said as she led them into her chambers, “but my husband still had to finish a letter, and I wanted us both to be here when you informed us about your decision.” It was only then that Rickard noticed the crown prince, who got up from the desk and walked towards them.

The crown prince had Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes. He was tall and rather thin, but that seemed to be a normal Targaryen feature too. Rickard knew you don’t have to be broad and bulky to be strong, and he was sure the crown prince had fooled an opponent with his stature more than once.

“Crown Prince Rhaegar,” Rickard said in the same moment as his wife and gave another bow.

“Lord Rickard, Lady Lyarra,” Rhaegar replied with a small bow, a faint smile on his lips. “It makes me happy to see you here today,” somehow Rickard wasn’t sure if Rhaegar meant it or not, the voice of the prince seemed… devoid of any emotion.

“It is an honor that you, Crown Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, receive me and my wife,” Rickard decided to take the diplomatic approach, “and we want to thank you for granting us a night to sleep on your generous proposal,” he noticed the small smile on Lyarra’s lips and the slight nod she gave. “We were surprised and shocked — never having anticipated such a proposal — and that made us completely speechless at that moment,” he said with a smile.

“For us, it felt as if we were dreaming. When we went to bed in our camp we thought we would wake up to discover none of this had really happened,” Lyarra quickly added with a slight laugh that Princess Elia quickly joined, and the smile on the crown prince's lips grew.

“I understand,” Princess Elia replied then. “When Rhaegar approached me and told me about this idea I was also shocked, but after meeting your son I think that he made the right decision,” the princess looked at her husband with a smile on her lips, but Rickard was sure he saw a short flicker of surprise in the crown prince’s eyes before the smile turned smug.

“Well, I thought it was about time my family fulfilled the promise we gave yours, after all you have proven yourself to be one of our most loyal vassals,” the crown prince then said.

“And again I can only say that we’re honored,” Rickard replied with another bow.

“I think we should move from the pleasantries to your decision, Lord Rickard,” Elia said then with a gentle smile. “Forgive me, but I have to admit I am a bit hopeful you accept our offer,” a giggle escaped the princess, and Rickard now was sure that she was playing a role in front of her husband.

Rickard looked to Rhaegar in that moment, playing the obedient Lord Paramount who would wait for the allowance of his crown prince instead of simply answering the man’s wife on such an important matter.

“I have to agree with my wife, I am very interested in your answer, too,” the crown prince simply said, and he gave a nod to Rickard as a signal that he should speak.

“My wife and I didn’t take long to find a decision after we realized that last night wasn’t a dream,” Rickard started, and Lyarra gave a nod. “We would be fools to deny the most gracious offer you have made us Crown Prince Rhaegar,” he tried to make his deep voice sound as joyous as possible while a smile was already on his lips. “Our Eddard will be betrothed to Lady Ashara, their firstborn son is to marry your daughter Princess Rhaenys — the greatest honor you could have bestowed upon our family,” and again Rickard gave a bow with a wide smile.

“Wonderful,” Elia immediately cheered with a giggle. “We should announce the betrothal, make everyone know that the pact is to be fulfilled soon,” she quickly added while she looked at her husband.

“I agree,” the crown prince only answered with a nod and thoughtful look.

“My Crown Prince,” Rickard said in a respectful tone, “may I be allowed to voice an idea I had?”

For a moment it was silent, and he noticed how Elia was looking at him, trying to find out what he would say while her husband already gave a slow nod.

“Speak what is on your mind Lord Rickard, I shall listen to your idea,” the tone of the crown prince's voice slowly got Rickard on edge. How could a man have a voice so empty of emotion?

“My wife and I,” he looked at Lyarra and an honest smile was on his lips, “we thought it would be a good idea to announce the betrothal during the final feast of the tourney,” his eyes were on the prince again. “It would be a moment that ensures no one will ever forget this tourney and the final feast,” Rickard looked at the princess for a second and then at the prince again. “And I’m sure that Lord Whent would feel honored if you decided to make his final feast the moment where you announce our agreement and the fulfillment of the pact our families made so long ago,” he noticed how the prince got thoughtful. “Besides that, it would prove to everyone that you and your family honor your word, no matter how many name days have passed,” a slow nod came from the prince and Rickard decided to stop there while he could feel the princess' eyes on him.

“Your idea makes a lot of sense, Lord Rickard,” the crown prince said after a moment of silence. “I truly agree with you,” it seemed as if the prince was still in thought while he spoke. “Yes,” he suddenly said. “We will announce the betrothal of Lord Eddard and Lady Ashara during the final feast, and with it the arranged betrothal of my daughter to their first born son,” Rhaegar nodded to himself. “I will inform Lord Whent that I will make certain no one will ever forget the final feast of the greatest tourney to ever be held,” Rhaegar looked towards his wife and then gave another nod before he looked back at Rickard. 

“Rhaegar,” Princess Elia suddenly said in her sweet and gentle tone. “Don’t you think the contract should be signed first?” a small smile was on the princess’s face as she looked towards the desk.

“Oh, you’re right,” the crown prince said and walked back towards the desk. “The contract contains everything as we agreed upon,” he said as he pointed at it, and Lyarra gave Rickard a gentle push to join the man. “Feel free to give it a quick read, Lord Rickard,” Rhaegar added and pushed the contract towards him.

“Everything is as we agreed upon,” Rickard confirmed after he had quickly read the contract in silence. “But I didn’t anticipate anything else from our noble Crown Prince Rhaegar,” he added as he smiled at the other man and put the document down. Without another word Rickard signed all three copies of the contract, and then he pushed it towards Rhaegar.

“It is a wonderful feeling to finally fulfill the pact made so long ago,” the prince said as he signed all three copies too. “This is for you,” he said and pushed one copy towards Rickard. “This one is for us,” he looked at Elia as he took one of the copies in his hand. “And this for the citadel,” and with that he lifted the last.

“If you would excuse me now Lord Rickard, Lady Lyarra, I will have to arrange things for the final feast,” and with that the crown prince left the room through a side door after giving a small bow, both copies of the contract in his hands. Rickard and his wife bowed once more, but he was sure the prince hadn’t seen that.

“Well played Lord Rickard,” Elia said with an honest smile. “I don’t know why you want the announcement during the final feast, but it was really a good idea,” the princess’s nod made Rickard feel more honored than anything the prince had said or done.

“Thank you Princess Elia,” he replied with a smile. “I hope our answer was still as you hoped for?”

“Oh yes,” the princess said with a laugh. “You can’t imagine how happy I am about our agreement. It feels wonderful to know that my best friend will marry a good man,” Elia looked at Lyarra. “And to know that my daughter will marry the son of a good family,” she mumbled, and in the next moment Lyarra hugged the princess, and the princess returned the hug.

“Thank you,” the princess said to his wife as she let go and then looked at Rickard. “I think it would be better if you leave now. I don’t want anyone to think that we might be plotting in secrecy,” and again there was a smile on the princess’s lips — a smile that proved Elia was plotting and hoped the Starks would aid her.

To his surprise the princess next stepped up to him and gave him a gentle hug. “The sun and the wolf should have worked together much earlier, we could have ended all this before it even began,” and then she let go of him again, smiling as she hugged his wife once more and then bowed. “I thank you, both of you, Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra,” she said.

“And we thank you,” Rickard and Lyarra said while returning the bow. “We wish you a pleasant day, and please take care, princess Elia,” Rickard then added and the princess smiled as she gave a nod.

A moment later it was Arthur Dayne who escorted them back out of the keep.

Chapter Text

Howland I

Gods Eye

The last twenty four hours had been eventful to say the least. Howland was still a bit amused by everything that had happened since the arrival of Eddard Stark at the camp of House Stark.

One of his men had told him about the situation with little Mya Stone, how the Starks had thought their honorable second son had sired a bastard daughter and brought her to Harrenhal with him. Well, it had become true from a certain point of view as Howland knew. After Mya was born, Ned had considered claiming her as his daughter if his best friend Robert wouldn’t stop his ways to care for her.

It was lucky for them all that Lord Robert had decided to change and had truly gone through with it so he could claim his daughter and raise her himself — with some help from Ned, who had become her godfather.

The bigger issue was the trouble Lord Rickard could have caused by forcing Ned to participate in the melee and joust. It was well known that Ned didn’t like to play at war, but it was necessary for the people to talk about him — for them to respect the second son of House Stark.

Sure, Ned would have respected his father’s order and done as asked of him, but it might have caused a rift between him and his father — and that was a risk they couldn’t afford.

So Howland had decided to get himself into a situation where he would need help.Even though he could have fought off the squires easily, it was the perfect situation. If Ned wouldn’t have appeared on his own, one of his men would have gotten him to the forest to aid Howland. What they hadn’t anticipated was that another Stark might be close.

Lyanna nearly had destroyed his plan, as she was ready to fight the squires to defend him, but again the gods were on their side, and Ned had appeared just in time to stop his sister. Lyanna’s interference and the way the squires had offended her seemed to have made the quiet wolf even angrier, which only aided his plan.

In the end, Ned had declared on his own that he would participate in the melee and joust to challenge the knights and tell them to teach their squires honor.

Lord Rickard had been more than happy when Howland had told him in private that it had all been planned so the relationship between father and son wouldn’t be put at risk. It had been something Lord Stark had been worried about since they had decided that Ned’s participation was needed.

“The plans are coming along well?” a deep voice suddenly asked next to him, and a smile came to Howland’s lips while his eyes still were on the Isle of Faces.

“It is so important that they sent you here?” Howland asked in return as he leaned against a tree.

“I only do what they tell me,” was the simple answer, but that answer was enough for Howland to know the man had actually been sent.

“Impressive,” he said, and that was the full truth. Howland was impressed that they had sent not just one of them, but him. “I mean, when was the last time you — Asger, son of the green stag, warder of the old gods and protector of the children of the forest — have left the Isle of Faces?” It was a rhetorical question; Howland knew it had been a long — very long — time ago, back when the children were fighting against the First Men.

“Howland,” the other man said, and finally Howland turned towards him. Asger’s skin was a dark green — along with his unruly long hair and full beard. Only the antlers that dominated his head — growing out of it — were brown as they should be. Asger was wearing black breeches and a brown tunic, his sword fastened around his hip. “After you left they were talking for a long time, the creators and their children,” Asger continued, and Howland took a deep breath.

“Did they decide that we made the wrong decision?” It was what had worried Howland the most, that the old gods and their children might not agree with them — that the time for a new king hadn’t come. “Are you here to end it?” Worry was clear in his words. “Ned is a good man, leave it to me to get the old council to stop their plans,” he quickly added, and even though Howland hadn’t known Ned for long, he was sure he was a good man and that he didn’t want him to die.

“Howland,” Asger sighed, his bright green eyes showing annoyance about his outburst. “Didn’t we teach you to wait?” the green man crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised his brow.

“Forgive me, Asger,” was all Howland replied, looking to the ground for a second in embarrassment. He had spent so much time on the Isle of Faces, and he had still forgotten one of the most important lessons at that moment. He had been taught to wait for them to finish, and not to rush to an assumption of what the old gods might have decided.

“You’re forgiven,” the other man said and made a step towards him while looking around to make sure they were alone. “They decided that the lords made the right decision. It is time for a change,” again the green eyes moved from left to right, and Howland felt the magic around him.

“There is more,” he whispered as he looked into the bright green eyes of Asger.

“Yes,” the green man nodded. “They say he will bring them back to their old glory.” Howland’s eyes went wide then. “I’m sent to be his shadow, to protect him from any danger that may fall upon him,” a heavy hand landed on Howland’s shoulder. “You have to ensure they don’t start a rebellion without a reason; the old gods said there will be a reason soon enough, but they fear that the council might rush into it,” this time Howland decided to stay silent and simply nod. “While I protect their chosen one, you will make sure the lords don’t ruin their own plans,” a nod followed the words, and that was the sign for Howland to finally speak again.

“I will do as the old gods told me through you,” were his first words, a fist resting on his heart. “For my loyalty to them is above everything and everyone else, for they’re our creators, and their children shall soon grace our lands again,” a faint green glow appeared around his fist before disappearing within his chest.

“The old gods are honored by your loyalty Howland,” Asger said and finally took his hand away again.

“So you will stay here? You won’t return to the island?” Howland then asked while he could still feel the magic.

“Most of the time I will be close to him, but no one will see me. Should I need to talk, I will call you,” Asger said with a nod. “My place is in the shadows Howland,” a small smile came Asger’s lips. “At least for now,” he added.

“So you will walk freely with us again at some point?” Howland couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice at that revelation.

“It will still take some time until I will walk freely with you again, but the day will come that we can walk as friends,” the smile faded as a sigh left his lips. “But the old gods fear this will also bring a time of war. The false faith won’t be happy with our return, or with faith in the old gods rising once more,” Howland noticed how Asger’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“So it won’t be before the rebellion is over,” Howland said and a sigh followed. “And when it happens, it will be the beginning of the next war,” he shook his head and Asger only nodded in return.

“That is why they requested that you select more of your people to come to the Isle of Faces. They want them prepared for when the time has come,” Asger looked towards the island. “The man you chose, Eddard Stark, the old gods think he will be the last chance for their children to return, to heal and not go extinct,” Howland was sure he could see hope in Asger’s eyes, something he had never before seen.

“Then we can only do our best to ensure it will become true.” Now it was Howland who placed a hand on the green man’s shoulder. “If anyone will be able to bring belief in the old gods back, it is Ned Stark,” and somehow Howland truly was sure that under Ned, faith in the old gods would grow, that green men and the children would be welcome in Westeros again.

Brandon I

Stark Camp

When they had arrived at Harrenhal everything had still been normal. He had been the heir who was loved and respected by everyone, and everyone had wanted to spend time with him and be in his good graces.

That had changed as soon as Ned had arrived.

Brandon didn’t know why, but since the moment his little brother had arrived, it seemed as if everyone had only wanted to spend time with him, as if Ned was the heir and not him.

“Sweet little Ned,” escaped his lips in a low grumble while he shook his head. His brother had been away for multiple name days. It made sense that his younger siblings and parents had missed him, but still, there was something odd about all this.

From all the stories he had heard, Brandon had thought that Robert Baratheon would be more like him, that the man had only used Ned to make himself look better in the eyes of women. That the man had brought his bastard daughter along was a slight against Lya, but Brandon hadn’t really cared; it was just a sign that the young Stormlord would get along very well with him.

When Brandon had made a small joke, he had thought Robert would laugh along with him, but instead the man had looked at him as if he wanted to punch him squarely in the face, and it seemed to him only Ned’s intervention stopped Robert from doing so.

As if that wasn’t enough, there had also been the dinner invitation Ned had gotten from the Lannisters. It had been a surprise when he had found out where Ned had been while Lya, Ben, and him were left to eat dinner with the Northern lords, while his parents had also been invited to a private dinner with the princess.

That it had been an important dinner had been confirmed when the morning’s rumors had started about an offer from the Targaryens for an engagement between Ned and Lady Ashara of House Dayne. The other rumor involved the marriage of their firstborn son to Princess Rhaenys, fulfilling some old pact their houses had.

And early this morning — for once he had been awake early as he had been unable to leave their camp until his parents had returned, and by then he had been too tired to go anywhere — he had seen how Lord and Lady Lannsiter had entered his parents’ tent.

In Brandon’s mind, that could only mean one thing: the Lannisters had made an offer for a betrothal of Ned to their daughter as well.

Somehow Brandon felt torn between being proud and being jealous of Ned. His younger brother had somehow managed to get the two most beautiful women in the realm — according to the bards, at least — offered as candidates of a betrothal.

He was also able to spend time with both women before a decision would be made! That was something father hadn’t allowed him before he had betrothed him to Lady Catelyn of House Tully.

This morning he had seen Lady Ashara, and he had to admit she was truly as beautiful as the bards claimed in their songs. 

To his shame, Brandon had to admit he had hoped she had only used Ned to get to Robert when he saw her leave towards the Gods Eye with Ned’s best friend and chosen brother. 

With Lya following them, Brandon was sure she would get Ned as soon as Robert and Ashara were getting down to business, and when Ned saw that, it would not just hurt him, but also destroy his friendship with Robert.

Brandon knew at the same moment that he shouldn’t wish for this to happen, but somehow it felt as if it would be the justice he deserved after Ned had immediately and effortlessly gotten the attention of everyone in the camp, and the privilege of being allowed to know the candidates for his betrothal.

Still, when Lya hadn’t returned to get Ned, but instead Robert had brought Ashara back and the two seemed like friends… somehow Brandon knew that Robert had probably warned Ashara, and when he was happy with her answers decided to support her, aiding her in her pursuit of Ned — who probably hadn’t even noticed what was going on around him.

Well, if Robert had decided that Ashara deserved his blessing, then it was nearly decided who would marry Ned. Still…

“What would happen if Lady Ashara actually lost her interest in Ned? And what if Lady Cersei also lost interest in him?” The thought brought his lips into a smirk.

Brandon knew it would actually gain him nothing if the women weren’t interested in Ned anymore. He needed their families to lose interest in a betrothal of them to Ned; he needed them to see that Ned wasn’t the perfect candidate for their precious daughter. They had to understand that Ned wasn’t more than a second son, born to be a spare in case anything should somehow happen to him.

A second son who was sentenced to live in the shadow of his older brother and best friend, a man who wasn’t destined for greatness, but to be a silent watcher from the shadows, a servant to fulfill the wishes of the people above him.

Everyone had to see and understand that he — the famous wild wolf — was the heir and future leader of the North. H e was the only one who deserved their attention and respect.

The first step for them to see and understand this he would take tonight at the opening feast of the tournament. He would try to get Lady Ashara to destroy Ned’s trust. He would get her to hurt his little brother more than anyone else ever had in his life.

He would ask Lady Ashara to dance with Ned, who is too shy to ask her. What sort of impression would that leave on the lady, a man who shall be betrothed to her, but didn’t even dare to ask her for a dance, instead sending his older brother — the handsome wild wolf — to ask her in his place?

That would embarrass Ned, and probably lower the lady’s interest — and who knows what else that might cause. Mayhaps Lady Ashara would choose to spend a night with him instead of wasting her time with Ned? If that was the case, when Brandon bedded the lady, he definitely wouldn’t keep it a secret from Ned.

He was sure he would bed Lady Ashara. She was Dornish, and had probably heard about him. It only made sense that she would want to know what pleasure the wild wolf could bring her. After all, what pleasure could his shy and quiet brother give her anyway?

“But Ned is still my brother, can I really do that to him?” suddenly went through his mind, and Brandon bit his lower lip. “Well, if he wouldn’t have stolen all the attention from me — if he had simply stayed in the background where he belonged — then I wouldn’t need to teach him a lesson.,” for Brandon this sounded like a logical answer, as if he really had enough reason to hurt his brother like this.

“I’m the wild wolf, the wolf’s blood runs hot in my veins, and they all know that and will eventually forgive me because of it.” Somehow the wolf’s blood had become a nice excuse for him over the years. “And it isn’t my fault Ned doesn’t have as much wolf’s blood as Lya, Ben, and me.” Somehow these thoughts drowned out the bad feeling nagging at the back of his mind, the part of him that knew what he planned to do was wrong.

“It is my right to show my little brother his place in our family.” With this thought Brandon raised the cup of wine standing on the table in his tent. “He is below me, and he should never forget that. It will be my command he has to follow, and it will never be my fault if a woman wants me instead of him,” he thought, and with a new smirk on his lips Brandon drank from the cup, emptying it of its contents with one large gulp.

“That smirk on your lips gets me worried, Bran,” Ben suddenly said from the entrance of his tent and stepped inside. “Are you planning something that will get mother and father mad at you again?” His youngest sibling simply knew him too well.

“Oh no Ben, not after the last time I had an argument with father,” Brandon quickly lied and placed the cup back on the desk. “I’m just excited for the opening feast tonight,” with these words he leaned forwards, hands on his knees. “Aren’t you excited to see Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy, the most famous knights alive?” he asked, knowing that Ben would start talking about both knights and what great things they had done.

Chapter Text

Rodrik I

Winterfell

Even though he had only spent the smallest amount of his life here, Winterfell was still the place where his heart felt at home, but was it different for any Stark? Winterfell had been the home of their family since the days of Bran the Builder: it was rooted inside their hearts as home from the day they were born.

It felt good to walk through the old halls again, to touch the stone that was warm on his fingertips. Water from the hot springs flowed through pipes within the walls, making Winterfell a warm and safe place even in the coldest and darkest of winters.

A sigh escaped his lips as he stepped outside the keep and felt the cold air of the North hit his face, a smile slowly appearing on his lips.

Without realizing it, he had entered the crypts of Winterfell, and now he stood in front of the statue of his father Beron and oldest brother Donnor. Willam’s statue stood right next to Donnor’s.

Even when he had been a small boy, he had thought the crypts to be a place of solitude, a place where he could think without anyone disturbing him. Sometimes it even felt as if his ancestors were helping him to find answers.

Slowly he reached out and placed his hand on top of his father’s.

“Is this what you have always dreamed about?” He mumbled and looked into the eyes made of stone. “Probably so; I know you always told me to be patient, to not rush into things and to find my own way,” a laugh followed his words. “They call me the Wandering Wolf,” a smirk came on his lips. “But don’t worry, I’m not wandering in search of my own way,” he gently patted the stone hand. “I found my way long ago, and I’m proudly following it, in the hope of making you and our gods proud of me.”

A small smile was on his lips. He had been the youngest son of Beron, not meant to inherit Winterfell or a keep at all — not that his father hadn’t wanted to give him one, there just hadn’t been one that didn’t need a lot of repairs, and those repairs were not possible back then.

His father had always said that he might get a place in his brother’s household, but somehow it hadn’t felt right. Something had pushed him to leave Winterfell and find his own way — and to this day he was thankful he had followed that push, that he had searched for his own way.

If he hadn’t left Winterfell he probably would never have met Arya — his beautiful and strong Arya — who had taken his heart when he had first seen her.

A laugh escaped his lips when he thought back to that day. He had left Winterfell and reached the high mountains north of the Wolfswood when a snowstorm came. It had surprised him; there hadn’t been a single sign that had made him expect a storm would catch him within hours of climbing up into the mountains.

It had been impossible for him to find his way through the snowstorm. Visibility had been practically down to zero, and he hadn’t even known if he was still on the path or close to falling down the cliff. With an exhausted sigh he had sunken down with his back against the stone of the mountains.

He had been sure that it would be his end — that he would die alone in the mountains — when suddenly a hand took hold of his arm and pulled him up.

From the strength of the grip he had expected a man had pulled him up, and so the surprise had been clear on his face when he’d looked into the face of a woman. Arya had just laughed at him, and had told him to not let go of her hand, she would lead him to safety.

Well, he hadn’t let go of her hand that day, nor that night. They had married within a fortnight, and Arya had even traveled with him — no matter how crazy the idea was and how exhausting it would be.

It had only been on his last trip that Arya couldn’t accompany him — even though she had wanted to go with him — as she was needed by her family in the mountains. Arya had been respected by her family and their people, her advice often asked for. That was why they had raised Branda and Lyarra in the Mountains, so that Arya could help her family.

She had been needed again then, and he had known that even though she had wanted to go with him, she wouldn’t have been completely concentrated on the travel and that could risk her life.

After a long discussion she had finally accepted that he could go beyond the wall alone, that he wouldn’t do anything stupid and epi;f return to her side as soon as possible.

Well, now she would come to his side as both their plans had changed since the two crannogmen had found him with the freefolk beyond the wall.

“Lord Stark,” the crannogmen really were able to move without making a single sound, he realized when the man suddenly appeared next to him. “The pups made a discovery I think you would like to see,” he added after a moment of silence.

He bowed his head to the statue of his father, his hand patting the stone hand once more before he turned around to walk back out of the crypts.

“It must be very important if you’re willing to come into the crypts and ask me to come with you,” he said to the short man who walked next to him.

“Sadly I have to say that it really is of such importance that I couldn’t dare to wait any longer than completely necessary. I’m sorry for disturbing you in the crypts,” the crannogman said and walked next to him towards the kettle.

“And you couldn’t bring it here?” He looked towards the man with a raised brow.

“They may only be pups, my Lord, but they’re fierce protectors and I’m not a Stark,” the crannogman answered in an amused tone. “I’m sure they will grow into fine protectors for your family,” Rodrik noticed the smile of the crannogman and laughed.

“You crannogman will never cease to amaze me,” with a smirk on his lips he gave the crannogman a pat on the back and smiled when the other man just smirked and gave a shrug.

Soon they arrived at the kettle, just outside of it stood a pack of seven wolf pups that were clearly too big to be normal wolves.

“I’m still surprised I found seven direwolf pups,” Rodrik said with a shake of his head.

“It is good that you brought them with you. They would have died alone beyong the wall,” the crannogman said.

“The direwolf is the animal of my family — we carry it on our banner — I couldn’t leave them to die,” he rumbled as he stepped towards the wolves. Five of them were in different shades of grey, from dark to light. One was brown, and one a light brown mixed with grey. As if on command two of the wolves made a path for him, letting him see the raven on the ground that one pup was growling at until it looked up at him.

“You’re a good boy,” he said to the wolf and placed his hand on the wolf’s head, gently scratching it behind its ear while he knelt down. The scroll of parchment attached to the raven's leg was clear to see, and so he simply pulled it from the raven's feet. Without even thinking, he broke the seal and unfolded the message to read it.

“Something is going on. The wolf seems to not trust me anymore and is more secretive. Someone was able to save the she-wolf. Since then they’re been nearly inseparable. I will have to find another way to get rid of her influence on him. The wandering wolf is also here. Mayhaps you could send me a trusted novice to aid me in my task. W.”

It was hard to hold back the growl that wanted to escape his throat when he slowly stood up again, moving out from between the direwolves and silently handing the message to the crannogman.

“My brother thought so,” the crannogman just said when he finished reading the message. “He was actually here to help your daughter when Lord Rickard had lost all hope,” he then added.

“Riders are approaching!” One of the guards shouted while rushing towards them. “Riders, Lord Stark,” the man said again when he was closer, and Rodrik gave a slow nod.

With the guard and the crannogman behind him he approached the gate and watched as the horses and the riders became more clear.

“You can be at ease,” he told the guards with a smile as he recognised the banners flapping in the wind. He silently waited until the horses rode through the gate and stopped inside Winterfell.

The woman with greying hair who had led the group was down from her horse more quickly than he could offer her his help. A smile was on her lips as she walked towards him.

“Arya,” was all he said as he wrapped his arms around her and the woman returned the gesture.

“Rodrik,” she whispered back before giving him a gentle kiss.

Oberyn II

Harrenhal, Harrenhal Market

Oberyn smiled, watching Rhaenys excitedly play with her doll and kitten as any child should. It had warmed Oberyn’s heart to see her so happy since they had come to this tourney. His brilliant sister had established herself as a great player of the game, and Oberyn was filled with pride on her behalf. Things were looking up for Oberyn’s family, and he wondered if it was sheer happenstance the timing coincided with this tourney, or if there might truly be gods looking out for them.

Oberyn was startled from his thoughts when heard a door open, watching his sister push Ashara out of her chambers. Oberyn inwardly lit up in glee, resisting the urge to smirk as Ashara crossed the room. “Where is our beloved star off to?” he asked. Ashara gave him a haughty look as she put on her noble mask. “Where I go is none of your business, my prince.” Oberyn chuckled, rising from his chair. “I can surmise you’re off to see a certain wolf. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t escort you. You can never be too careful, my lady.”

Ashara huffed in a mixture of frustration and amusement, but evidently thought better of objecting. “Come along then, I know you’re going to make a nuisance of yourself even if I refuse,” she said with a hint of annoyance. Elia collected Rhaenys and waved the two of them off, smiling with amusement. Ashara huffed and rolled her eyes, and the two of them left the castle, walking toward the Stark camp.

The two of them walked in silence as they approached the market on their way to the Stark camp. “So, a quiet wolf finally managed to crack the ice around the unattainable star’s heart,” Oberyn said with a grin, before Ashara elbowed him sharply in the ribs, making him gasp for air. The glare in her purple eyes told him he’d be suffering worse were they not surrounded by witnesses. “Who I spend my time with is none of your business, Oberyn.”

Oberyn raised his hands in mock defensiveness. “I submit, my lady. Still, you have to admit it’s quite a surprise,” he finished as they continued walking. Ashara remained silent for a while, before she finally replied. “It’s indeed a surprise, but a very pleasant one for me,” she said, a hint of red on her cheeks that only made Oberyn grin more inwardly. If only he could be around the two of them while they were together: the opportunities for teasing would be endless.

“I’m happy for you, Ashara. You’re like a sister to all of us,” he said in a rare tone of sincerity. “Thank you Oberyn,” she said, favoring him with a genuine smile. Her smile faded before turning to a scowl, and Oberyn turned to follow her gaze. Cersei Lannister was walking toward the center of the market just as they were, resplendent in a dress of red and gold. Oberyn was inwardly gleeful, remembering the entertainment he’d witnessed the last time the two ladies crossed paths.

In the same instant, Cersei must have seen them, as her green eyes narrowed and her lips formed into a scowl. The three of them continued walking until they met. Oberyn remained silent, deciding that for the moment it would be better to merely observe. He waited through a few more moments of silence before Ashara broke it. “Well, if it isn’t the lion cub. I wonder, have you heard about my betrothal?” Ashara smirked wickedly as she delivered the opening barb, but Cersei seemed unphased.

Cersei sniffed haughtily. “You have no betrothal. An offer was made on your behalf — and you really must have been desperate to have begged the princess to arrange this simply to win Ned — but it has not been accepted. Furthermore, I’ll have you know my family have made the Starks an offer as well. Our battle is far from over,” she finished, smirking wickedly herself. Ashara’s eyes widened in indignation, her fists clenching at her sides.

“How dare you! I never told anyone how I feel about Ned. Your princess arranged everything of her own accord. As if I’d have to stoop to outside help to triumph over the likes of you. However, it’s amusing to know you had to run to mama and papa to have a chance at victory.” The smirk was back on Ashara’s face, her head tilted back as she looked down at Cersei. Oberyn fought with everything he had not to smirk himself, the two ladies reminding him of a pair of vipers he’d seen snapping at each other on one of his many excursions through the sands of Dorne.

Cersei snorted disdainfully. “I ran to no one. My mother seems to have spearheaded the idea of her own accord. She must truly have grown fond of Ned, but I assure you I had nothing to do with it. Still, my feelings for Ned are just as genuine as yours, and we are now on an even playing field, little star.” Cersei wore a smug smile, but she otherwise appeared calm. However, Oberyn didn’t fail to notice her eyes widening when he heard a voice from his left.

“Well, what sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now, sweet sister?” Oberyn turned to see the new arrival. The man had golden hair and green eyes, and Oberyn could tell just by looking at him that he must be Cersei’s brother Jaime. Cersei composed herself, and he could see she was making an effort not to clench her fists. 

Cersei exhaled deeply, finally breaking the silence. “Just a friendly rivalry between ladies, nothing to concern yourself with. What are you doing here, dear brother?” she responded. Jaime stepped up with a swagger and a smug smirk. Oberyn resisted the urge to smirk himself; something told him and Jaime might get along quite well. Jaime reached the group, responding, “Mother sent me. She said it’s not proper for a noble maiden to walk around without a chaperone. You’re on your way to the Stark camp after all, so I wonder if she fears what you might—”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to finish as Cersei elbowed him hard in his ribs. Her cheeks were slightly red, and if looks could kill, Oberyn thought Jaime would be dead already. Oberyn found himself liking Jaime Lannister more and more, unable to repress a smirk at the teasing. Ashara wore a neutral expression, and her hands were relaxed at her sides, but she seemed wary. Jaime seemed to look around, the smirk still on his face.

“I suppose introductions are in order,” he said, bowing to Ashara as he continued, “Jaime Lannister, my lady, my prince,” his gaze turning to Oberyn as he offered his hand. Oberyn took it, shaking firmly. “Prince Oberyn Martell, escorting Lady Ashara Dayne,” Oberyn replied smoothly as he and Jaime released their respective hands. “And you must be Lady Cersei. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Oberyn finished with a bow.

Cersei nodded, her cheeks no longer red. She curtsied perfectly. “Lady Cersei Lannister, my prince. It’s our pleasure as well. It seems we both had the same idea,” she said, sniffing reproachfully and looking in Ashara’s direction. Ashara sniffed in turn, Oberyn shared an exasperated look with Jaime. Jaime only seemed to smirk wider. “It’s a pleasure to meet Cersei’s famous rival in beauty,” he said, before he winced as Cersei not-so-discreetly stomped his foot. She crossed her arms and huffed, glaring at her brother again. Jaime seemed completely unrepentant, and Ashara seemed amused.

What was the world coming to, Oberyn thought, when it fell to him to play peacemaker? “We’re all heading toward the same place, so it would only make sense for us to travel together,” he said, his gaze surveying each of them. Jaime nodded easily — the smirk never leaving his face — while Ashara and Cersei glared at one another before seemingly resigning themselves to the notion with a nod.

The four of them continued together toward the Stark camp. Oberyn grudgingly admitted to himself that he and Jaime could make for good friends. He wondered how he would get along with Lord Eddard. He privately mused that Ashara and Cersei could perhaps be great friends were they not so stubborn and competitive. The thought of those two united in common cause made him shudder — whether the idea brought fear or pleasure he didn’t know — and Oberyn dismissed such thoughts from his mind.

He was obligated to escort Ashara at this point, but he hoped her visit to the Stark camp would be timely. The sooner they could return to the castle, the better. Elia needed to know about the Lannisters’ offer, though Oberyn would be surprised if she hadn’t heard about it by the evening. Still, with the arrival of Jaime and Cersei, Oberyn felt the day was likely to be even more entertaining than he had anticipated. Oberyn told himself for what seemed like the hundredth time that he was very glad he’d chosen to attend this tourney.

Chapter Text

Eddard V

Tourney Grounds

While the tourney grounds were hectic and filled with people, they gave Ned a sense of comfort he felt he needed more than anything right now. He walked aimlessly through them with no particular destination in mind. His head had become a flurry of thoughts ever since he had left his parents’ tent at the Northern camp. That had happened almost an hour earlier if Ned had any sense of time and still, he struggled to get his head around what they had told him.

A betrothal.

Ned had repeated the word over and over again in his head, and it still sounded akin to nothing he had known. Of course, he had known it would arrive sooner rather than later. He was a man grown of eighteen name days, and a member of the oldest House in the realm — even if only a second son set to inherit nothing. He was expecting it, and had always known that when the time arrived, he would step up and do his duty to his bride-to-be and to his House, but the news had still come as a surprise to him.

Who could it be? He had asked himself that same question for almost an hour. His mother had said that there could be rumors about his betrothal, so that probably meant the lady and her father were at the tourney, discussing it with his parents. Mayhaps a lady from the Vale? I was sent there to foster, so the idea wasn’t too far fetched. Or a lady from a Northern House? Brandon has been long betrothed to Catelyn Tully, causing discontent among the Northern Houses. Mayhaps father will betrothe me to some Northern lord’s daughter to appease them. Whoever she was, he trusted his parents with the decision.

What had come as a bigger surprise was what his father had told him. I have to admit that there is actually more interest in you than there has been in Brandon. The mere thought made Ned scream ‘madness!’. Brandon was the older brother, the heir to Winterfell. He cracked smiles as naturally as Ned brooded and he’d had ladies swooning over him ever since they were children. While not taller than Ned, he was certainly better looking than Ned, and probably even a better friend. Had he already mentioned Brandon was the heir to Winterfell?

Ned shook his head with fervor for the third time now. After what his parents had told him — what they thought about him and that he wasn’t less than Brandon for being a second son — he had promised himself to stop talking down to himself by comparing himself to Brandon. His father and mother had said they were really proud of him, and it had felt… nice. With him living far away for most of his developing years, he had barely heard those words from his parents’ mouths. He would not let them down now that they felt proud of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a very familiar squeal.

“Nappa!!!” Ned heard a girl squeal behind him with a very cute voice. When Ned turned around, a familiar little girl jumped into his arms, and Ned moved quickly to catch the little girl and make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

Ned chuckled. “Well, hello there little princess,” Ned said in a warm voice as he took a better hold of Princess Rhaenys. The little girl looked at him, her brown eyes filled with mischief and her face sporting a toothy grin. She was wearing a violet dress which made her look adorable.

“Missed you Nappa!” the little girl said with a wide smile while she hugged him tightly.

“I missed you too, Little Sun.” Seeing the princess had brightened up his mood.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” a familiar woman’s voice said, and Ned looked up to see none other than Princess Elia. She was wearing a beautiful orange dress that greatly complimented her olive skin.

Ned quickly bowed in the presence of the princess… though it was quite difficult with Princess Rhaenys making herself comfortable in his arms. “Princess,” he said.

Princess Elia let out a lighthearted laugh. “No need to bow to me, Lord Eddard. We have gotten well acquainted enough yesterday that it feels a little odd for you to bow to me. Also, I’m not exactly being a princess at the moment; I’m just a mother taking a walk with her daughter… and our designated shadow, of course,” Princess Elia finished with a teasing tone while looking at the white-armored man walking behind them who just snorted at the princess’ comment.

Ned hadn’t noticed the kingsguard who was guarding both princesses. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. His armor consisted of a suit of white enameled scales while the fastening for his breastplate seemed to be made of silver and the characteristic white cloak was wrapped around his shoulders. Contrary to what Ned would have thought, the man wasn’t wearing his helmet, but rather was holding it with his left hand which allowed him to take a good look at the man’s face. He was a good looking man; his hair was dark, his skin fair, but his eyes were his most prominent feature. His eyes were of a bluish indigo, and it reminded him of Ashara’s for some reason. It was at that moment that he saw the sword the man wielded. Even the blindest of men would be able to recognize the handle of the sword. Dawn, Ned thought in awe. The man in front of him was none other than the wielder of the ancestral sword of House Dayne: Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of The Morning… and Ashara’s older brother.

The knight looked at him strangely. “Eddard Stark, I presume?”

Ned nodded. “You presume correctly, Ser Arthur. It is an honor to meet the wielder of Dawn and the Sword of the Morning.”

He saw Princess Elia smirk at the knight. “Look at that, Artie. Your reputation precedes you.”

Ser Arthur chuckled. “It appears so, princess. The honor is mine, Lord Eddard. It is not every day that I meet a man who my sister doesn’t seem to wish me to behead,” the man said, and Ned did not know what to make of that last sentence.

“Thank you?” Ned said, confused.

“You’re welcome. It is a compliment, really, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” Ser Arthur said.

“Our dear friend is not very fond of most men. Most of them look at her for her beauty and not for her being, and that is something Ash hates. As a result , outside of her family and mine, she’s never been fond of any other men… well, at least not until you. Ashara seems to… appreciate your presence, to say the least,” Princess Elia elaborated further.

Ned frowned. “That isn’t right. Lady Ashara is much more than her beauty. She is very smart and cultured, and very easy to talk to. She is kind and loving, and if I were to judge on how she acts with Princess Rhaenys, I’m sure she will be an excellent mother one day,” Ned added.

This caused Princess Elia to smile and Ser Arthur to look at him attentively. Ned felt a little uncomfortable under the knight’s gaze if he was honest. Princess Elia looked back at the kingsguard, and that caused the man to smile and nod.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Lord Eddard. I’m sure Ashara would appreciate it if every man looked at her that way,” Princess Elia said.

“Ara?!” Princess Rhaenys said excitedly, looking around as if she were looking for someone.

“Ahhh mi amor , Ara is not here; I just said her name,” Princess Elia said to her daughter, and the little princess was visibly disappointed. “Anyway, where were you headed, Lord Eddard? It seems we interrupted you.”

Ned shook his head. “You didn’t, my princess. I was just walking around to clear my head. In fact, I was thinking of going back to my camp.”

At that, Princess Elia smirked. “Well, then don’t let us stop you. Come mi amor , Nappa needs to leave,” The princess said while taking Princess Rhaenys into her arms.

“But Nappa?!” the little princess whined.

“You will get to see Nappa later, solecito . Right, Lord Eddard?” the princess asked him.

“Yes, my princess.”

Princess Rhaenys looked at him with puppy eyes. “Promise?”

Ned smiled. “I promise.”

Princess Elia smiled. “Will we see you at tonight’s feast, Lord Eddard?”

Ned nodded. “You will, princess.”

Princess Elia gave him a wide smile. “Then I’ll see you there. Don’t let us keep you any longer, but before you leave… just know that there might be a little surprise waiting for you at the camp.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes, I’m sure you will love it.” Ned did not know what to make of it.

“Aye princess. Now, with your leave,” Ned said and the princess nodded. Ned turned around to walk towards his camp when a voice stopped him.

“Wait… Lord Eddard…” Ned turned around and was surprised when he saw it was Ser Arthur who stopped him.

“Yes, ser?”

Ser Arthur looked a bit conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. “Take care of her, my lord.”

“Huh?” Ned said, confused. Take care of whom?

Princess Elia smiled. “Just ignore him, Lord Eddard. We’ll see you at the feast.”

Ned nodded, still a bit confused. “Very well, princess.” With that, Ned turned around to go back to his tent and freshen up for the evening feast. When Ned was a considerable distance away, he heard the remnants of the group’s voices.

“Ara and Nappa sitting in a tree, k-“ was the last thing Ned heard before he was out of range.

Tywin III

Lannister Camp

After he and Joanna had returned from the Stark Camp, it had seemed as if the day might become calmer and more relaxed for him now. Joanna had cooled down and even seemed happy with the resolution they had found for the situation he and Rickard and had maneuvered themselves into.

Yes, it had been a sour compromise for him. He would have to accept that Eddard would not only marry Cersei, but also Ashara Dayne, and through that marriage there was the risk that none of his grandchildren would sit on the Iron Throne.

Still, what else could they have done? There wasn’t any other option if they didn’t want to risk their plan being revealed, which would probably also mean them losing their heads with Aerys’s current state of mind.

Whatever had happened in Duskendale, it had broken his old friend and destroyed the last bit of humanity Aerys had in him.

“My lord,” Tywin recognized his brother’s voice immediately and looked up from the book that had been resting on his lap since he’d returned to his tent. He truly had wanted to read it, but his mind had continuously wandered back to the deal they had come up with, and whether he could have done anything different and somehow reached a better deal for him and his family.

“Kevan?” he simply asked in return and gave a nod for the man to enter his tent.

Without another word his brother entered the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him before approaching Tywin.

“Did Jaime do something stupid?” Tywin asked. The way Kevan looked and walked made him certain something important had happened, something that Kevan wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad.

“No, my lord,” his brother immediately answered and looked around inside the tent once more while taking a deep breath. “There have been rumors, some of the soldiers and bannermen are talking about them,” he continued as he finally looked at Tywin again.

“What kind of rumors?” it must involve them, or Kevan wouldn’t be so worried about it. The rumors about Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark's betrothal wouldn’t interest any of his soldiers and bannermen.

“Rumors about your daughter, Lady Cersei,” Kevan looked away for a second while Tywin shut the book loudly before it thumped onto the table.

“What rumors are there about my daughter, Kevan?” His voice was quiet and cold, demanding an answer from his brother right then and without any platitudes wrapped around it.

“There are rumors,” Kevan swallowed and took another deep breath. “There are rumors, my lord, that you made an offer to the Starks. The rumors say that you wish to betrothe your daughter — Lady Cersei — to Lord Eddard Stark.” This time Kevan’s eyes had stayed on him, not moving away even after he finished.

Tywin was silent, looking at his brother while for once he was at a loss of words. They had talked in private about everything, and he couldn’t imagine that Rickard Stark would start the rumor and risk their plan and heads just to perhaps get an even better offer from the Targaryens. No, it couldn’t have been Rickard.

“Is it true?” he heard his brother ask, but he didn’t answer and only raised his hand to stop Kevan from talking more.

Tywin stood up from his chair, walking towards his desk that was placed on the other side of the tent. He was going through the events of his morning again within his mind… and then he remembered.

“By the Seven,” he mumbled and shook his head. Someone must have been spying on them when they entered Rickard’s tent. They hadn’t been under the protection of that crannogmen when Joanna had blurted out that they would make an offer for Eddard’s hand. It was the only moment that anyone outside of the tent could have heard them, and the guards of the Starks were too loyal to suspect.

“The rumor,” Tywin finally started to say while walking back to his brother, “is true,” he finally admitted with a sigh. “There is no sense in keeping it a secret now. Joanna and I made an offer, just as the Targaryens did,” with that he took the cup from the table and took a sip.

“But why?” Kevan asked him a bit confused about this news. “You’ve never been close with the Starks, and the marriage wouldn’t gain your family and lands anything besides…” Kevan suddenly stopped speaking and looked at him intrigued.

“Yes?” Tywin asked with a raised brow, waiting to hear more while a small smile was on his lips — he didn’t feel like smiling at all, but he hoped it would lead to his brother believing whatever he thought and would say was right.

“Well, some of the bannermen,” his brother started slowly. “They think you want a second son so that Cersei can stay in Casterly Rock with him,” continued Kevan a bit more sure and even with a small smile on his lips — as if he was sure that he was on the right track.

“And why would I want my daughter to stay at the Rock with her husband instead of them having their own keep?” Tywin asked in a tone that sounded as if he wanted Kevan to continue down this road.

“This way, you would be prepared in case Jaime should leave the Rock,” Kevan said and was silent, watching Tywin intently.

“And why would my son leave his home?” The words sounded a bit annoyed, as if he simply wanted Kevan to speak his idea instead of wanting confirmation every step of the way.

“I heard Jaime might want to join the Kingsguard, but that would mean he was forbidden from owning any lands, which would mean that he can’t inherit the Rock and be your heir.” Kevan had finally stated more than a single fact in a sentence, and Tywin took another sip from his cup.

“My son doesn’t wish to become a member of the Kingsguard,” Tywin said after a moment. “But everyone knows that only the finest knights are chosen to wear a white cloak,” with these words he took another sip. “Our King knows that Jaime is very skilled with a sword.” It was no lie: Jaime had spent some time with him in King’s Landing and during that time he had often practiced in the sparring yard.

“But Jaime is still very young,” Kevan said thoughtfully.

“That is true, but a position within the Kingsguard is free, and after I laid down my position as Hand of the King, it would be a step to prove the bond between House Targaryen and House Lannister — as its loyal vassals — is still very strong and not to be underestimated,” Tywin hoped that his brother understood the message he had wrapped within the words. If Aerys made Jaime a Kingsguard, he would have a hostage to use against Tywin: he would have Tywin’s loyalty due toJaime’s life.

It was amusing for Tywin to watch as Kevan’s mind worked. At first his brother was silent and looked thoughtful, his brows pulled down in the center so that he looked a bit grim before his eyes went wide in understanding and realization.

“And if Cersei marries a second son and stays at the Rock she could be your heir,” when Kevan had calmed down from his internal surprise he whispered the words.

“At least until Tyrion is old enough to take his place as Lord of the Rock,” Tywin said with a nod. “I want him to be able to finish his education and understand the world, to gain some friends and allies, before he has to take such a burden if Jaime isn’t able to.” He took another sip from his cup and sighed.

“Eddard, the second son of Rickard Stark, is an honorable and intelligent man,” Tywin continued. “He ate dinner with us last night, and also helped Tyrion,” he slowly moved the cup in his hand, remaining silent as he looked at the liquid in it.

“And you think he wouldn’t be greedy and try to get Cersei to keep her place as Lady of the Rock,” Kevan added for him. “You…” His brother suddenly was silent, and Tywin looked up again noticing that Kevan was in shock once more.

“Say it,” Tywin said in a deadly quiet tone.

“You think he will be able to keep the family together even if something should happen to you and Joanna.” It was clear Kevan didn’t want to think too much about the possibility of something happening to Tywin and Joanna, but in that moment Tywin realized Kevan’s words had shown him a truth he had wanted to ignore thus far.

“You’re right,” he admitted quietly and sighed as he got up, placing the cup on the table again as he walked to his brother. “But you can’t tell this to anyone: this is our secret, brother,” Tywin looked into Kevan’s eyes before simply giving the man a hug.

“Now you go out and find out who spread that rumor, I want to know the source,” whispering into his brother’s ear before letting go and nodding.

“As you command,” Kevan said with a nod and turned to leave the tent, thus leaving Tywin alone with his thoughts.

As distasteful as Tywin found deceiving his brother, it was necessary, at least at the current stage. Should the Old Council’s relationship be discovered, it would likely mean all their heads. It was best that Kevan had plausible deniability in the event their relationship — or worse, their plans — were discovered, as he could help keep the family together in the event of such a disaster.

Of course, if and when someone — likely Aerys — sparked a war, there would be no choice but to tell Kevan then.

Chapter Text

Cersei IV

Stark Camp

The walk had been silent since Prince Oberyn Martell had played peacemaker between her and Ashara. As they walked, Cersei thought about her unwanted companions. She had been furious when Jaime arrived. Her mother had sent him to chaperone her as if she were a little girl, or as if she and Ned would do anything improper before their marriage! Jaime teasing her had only made her angrier, and doing so in front of her rival had made it even worse.

Prince Oberyn seemed endlessly amused at everything, which perfectly matched his reputation. Somehow Cersei had a feeling that Jaime and Oberyn would become great friends if they got the chance to spend more time together — especially without their father being around.

Ashara was as insufferable as she always was. The gall of her to try and gloat to Cersei because the princess had arranged a match with Ned. How childish. Still, Cersei could dish it out as well as she could take it. It had been amusing to see Ashara get indignant when Cersei had met her challenge. The two were content to ignore one another for now, but that wouldn’t last forever. Cersei fully intended on making Ned hers: a lioness never surrendered, and Ashara would just have to deal with her inevitable defeat.

“We should have met years ago.” The words had left her mouth before she had really thought about them. Ashara was ignoring her, but Prince Oberyn had a small smile on his face and gave a nod.

“That is true,” the young prince said after a moment. “I remember my mother planning the journey to your home for a long time; she had told me and Elia about her friendship with Lady Joanna.” Suddenly Oberyn looked thoughtful at her and Jaime looked questioningly.

“I heard mother and father talking about it,” Cersei said with her eyes on Jaime who gave a slow nod and then looked back at the prince.

“I still don’t know why my mother canceled the trip so suddenly. I was so excited for that trip, but she abruptly called it off without giving us any reason. Just two days before we planned to leave, she sent Elia to inform me that we wouldn’t be traveling.” It was odd to hear that Prince Oberyn’s mother had called off the visit so spontaneously.

Somehow, this bit of information made Cersei even more curious for the true reason behind it. Could it be that the former princess of Dorne had suddenly changed her plans when a new opportunity had presented itself? Her father had hoped to betroth her to Prince Rhaegar when the Baratheons had died, but instead of her, the king had chosen Princess Elia of Dorne.

“I would have liked it if you had visited us: we could have trained together,” Jaime suddenly said, and Cersei was sure that was what he honestly thought. Her brother had always loved to train and learn as much as he could in the sparring yard. If he had shown half as much dedication to the lessons they’d had together, then he would have become a formidable young lord already. As it was,  Cersei worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the position as Lord of the Rock.

Still, Jaime would have Tyrion at his side, and Tyrion already showed great promise and a dedication to learning combined with the needed intelligence. Cersei had to admit it calmed her to know that their younger brother would be able to help Jaime in the future.

“There is nothing stopping us from having some sparring sessions over the course of the tourney,” she heard the prince answer in a tone that even showed a little excitement about the prospect — and somehow Cersei wasn’t surprised about that. Jaime had made a name for himself with the blade already — such a name that she had been worried the king might actually want him to join the Kingsguard — but luckily that hadn’t happened so far.

Cersei didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that the Kingsguard would destroy her sweet twin. Jaime was a good boy and will be a good man. Yes, he was cocky sometimes and often behaved a bit like a spoiled brat, but in the end he always wanted to do what was right and honorable. Somehow she knew this wouldn’t be the case had their mother not protected them from their own foolishness years earlier.

It wasn’t only Jaime who had made a name for himself. Prince Oberyn was also well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They called him the Red Viper — and Cersei was sure they called him viper not only because of his rumored knowledge about poisons, but also because of his eyes, as they looked like the eyes of a viper — and said that he was fierce.

Her eyes moved onto the young prince once more. Oberyn Martell was tall and slender, looking athletic and quick, while Ned was tall and broad — heavy with muscles that had felt good when he had caught her. Still, that was not the only difference. Oberyn was graceful — like Prince Rhaegar — whereas Ned had a certain roughness about him that Cersei somehow found to be far more attractive and enticing. 

It was also said that Prince Oberyn was very loyal to his sister, Princess Elia.

Even though they had just met, Cersei was sure there was truth behind these words. The young prince had said himself that his mother had sent Elia to speak with him when the trip was canceled instead of talking with him herself: this showed Cersei that the bond between them must have been special even years prior.

“Found a new interest? Good, cause you’re not going to get Ned,” the voice of Ashara pulled Cersei from her thoughts, and she looked at the other woman with hard green eyes.

“It’s rather you who should look for a new one, because I won’t let you win — not this time,” she immediately shot back, a smirk on her lips even though she knew she had never let Ashara win before: the other woman had simply been liked more by the men in King’s Landing. 

“And don’t forget that Ned is a Northerner: he needs a fierce lioness and not a gentle star,” Cersei quickly added before Ashara could even open her mouth to say something in return. Yet it had not had the desired effect as the purple eyes suddenly seemed to be ablaze.

“I don’t think Ned needs a tame lioness, because you’re nothing but tame, my dear Cersei,” Ashara said in a quiet tone. “But I’m a star. I can be gentle and guide the way in the night, but I can also be hard and as sharp as the blade of my brother's sword Dawn,” the purple eyes were still ablaze while it seemed that the gap between them became smaller and smaller. 

“Ashara,” a low voice suddenly interrupted them, and Cersei saw that Prince Oberyn had placed a hand on Ashara’s shoulder. “I think you need to calm down,” suddenly the young prince looked straight into Cersei’s eyes, “both of you,” he added in a calm tone.

“As for me, I think that neither of you wants Lord Eddard to find you while you’re in an argument about him as if he was a toy that you don’t want to share with each other,” Jaime suddenly said next to her and stopped when the eyes of everyone of their group were on him. “I think we should split, that way the two of you won’t get into another argument,” her brother quickly added after a gulp.

“Hmm, I agree, Jaime,” Oberyn then joined with a nod. “We’re already in the Stark Camp, and as you two act as if it is a competition,” another nod came from the young prince. “Ashara and I will leave in this direction,” the prince pointed towards the Gods Eye, “while you and your brother, Lady Cersei, will leave in this direction,” now he pointed towards the biggest tents of the Stark Camp, the tents of Ned’s family.

“But—” she and Ashara wanted to complain, but Oberyn stopped them with a raised hand.

“There will be no discussion about this. The gods will decide whom of you he shall meet first,” the tone of the Prince brought a finality to the words that made Cersei begrudgingly accept them before Ashara also agreed with a grim nod.

“Good,” the prince nodded. “Jaime, I wish you a good day and look forward to our sparring session. Mayhaps we can find some others who will want to join us,” Oberyn nodded towards her brother who nodded in turn. “And I also wish you a good day Lady Cersei, I’m sure we will soon meet again.” He gave another nod, and Cersei gave a short curtsy.

“Lord Jaime, Lady Cersei, I wish you both a good day,” Ashara said with a quick curtsy before she left with the young prince.

Cersei and Jaime weren’t walking long when suddenly a tall shape appeared in the distance and a smile came to Cersei’s lips. She quickened her steps, and Jaime looked at him with furrowed brows until they had finally reached the man who looked at them a bit confused.

“Lady Cersei,” the man said confused and then looked towards her brother. “Lord Jaime,” still confusion was on his face. “Are you looking for someone?” Cersei wanted to shake her head at this and laugh, but she decided against it.

“Yes,” her brother said in response.

“We were actually looking for you Lord Eddard,” Cersei quickly added and was happy when she saw how Ned started to smile.

“Well, in that case, you have found whom you searched for,” Ned japed, and Cersei giggled before she gave a nod.

“I actually wanted to ask if you would like to accompany me on a short walk? I would like us to talk for a bit and get to know each other better.” Suddenly Cersei felt nervous and wanted to hide until Ned gave a nod.

“I see no problem with that, I have finished my tasks and have nothing planned.” With that he offered her his arm and Cersei gladly accepted.

Eddard VI

Stark Camp

It had surprised Ned to suddenly stand opposite Lady Cersei and her twin Lord Jaime. With everything that had happened so far today it really shouldn't have surprised him, but still it had. Somehow he had thought they might have been looking for Brandon or Benjen — maybe they wanted to ask if Benjen could come with them to meet Tyrion — but no, they were here in search of him, and Cersei had even asked him if he would like to take a walk with her.

Thus that is what they were doing right now, with Jaime following somewhere behind them to assure they were not doing anything stupid. Cersei had accepted his arm, and her hand was resting close to his wrist — so close that he sometimes felt her fingers brush against his skin.

“Lord Eddard,” Cersei suddenly said, and he looked towards her.

“You can call me Ned,” he said, before Cersei continued and smiled as a slight blush came to her cheeks and she nodded.

“Only if you’ll call me Cersei, Ned,” she then started once again and smiled. “I hope you enjoyed the dinner with my family last night?” With the smile still on her lips she looked up at him with gentle green eyes that weren’t able to hide the curiosity but also worry about his answer to her question.

For a moment Ned was silent, thinking back to meeting Cersei’s family — and again he found himself smiling while giving a nod. “I enjoyed having dinner with you and your family, Cersei,” then saying in a calm tone. “It might sound a bit odd, but I felt welcome, and I hope that I didn’t offend anyone when I helped Lord Tyrion?” Suddenly there was worry in his voice — and Ned had to admit to himself that he really was worried if it had offended her father or mother.

“Offended?” Cersei asked with an amused tone. “I think you’re the first man — who isn’t a member of our family — who has been able to impress my father.” As soon as she had said that, Ned’s face had changed from worry to surprise.

“I impressed your father?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking while his grey eyes looked into her green ones, searching for any trace of a lie in them while the beautiful blonde woman gave a nod.

“Yes,” Cersei answered his question, her tone sure while her hand moved to his and gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure him. “My father said you’re a very honorable and intelligent man. He liked that you helped Tyrion, and mother loved you as soon as you simply accepted and interacted with Tyrion without a hint of discomfort — or worse, disgust,” and Ned didn’t question the sincerity of her words at that moment.

“Lord Tyrion is an intelligent young boy, I’m sure that him and Benjen would easily become great friends,” a smile finally was on his lips again and he felt himself relax as he finally returned the gentle squeeze, holding her hand in his for a moment before Cersei moved hers back to a honorable position on his forearm.

“You see that Ned,” and suddenly Cersei’s voice sounded sad as she looked down to the ground.

Without much thought Ned had moved his arm, getting her hand back into his to once more give her a gentle and hopefully reassuring squeeze while he looked at her. After a moment she finally looked up again, green eyes now sad and not happy anymore.

“Not everyone is like you, Ned,” she said with a small and sad smile on his lips. “Many judge Tyrion because he doesn’t look like us. They only whisper about it as they wouldn’t dare to offend our father, but we know they’re talking,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “When you talked about your brother yesterday — and about introducing him to Tyrion — somehow it gave me hope that maybe Tyrion will gain a friend.” Cersei still looked at him while they walked through the camp.

“Ben,” Ned started. “Ben, will not care about Lord Tyrion’s looks. He will give him a chance to become friends just as he would for any other boy. Lord Tyrion has the advantage that he is intelligent and likes to read, because Ben isn’t any different in that regard” Ned laughed at the memory of his little brother always begging him to send some books from the Vale to the North, because Ben wanted to learn about the place Ned was living at.

“I’m sure Tyrion will love to exchange books with him, he brought a huge chest from our home,” Cersei finished as she laughed softly, and she was smiling again, the sadness gone. “Maybe we could introduce them to each other tomorrow? I mean… you will probably be busy with preparations for the opening fest tonight later on, and I wouldn’t want to bother you with another visit just to introduce our siblings to each other,” Cersei finished, suddenly sounding shy.

“Oh, you don’t bother me, please never think you do,” her hand was still in his and so he simply squeezed it once more. “But I have to agree with you. I will have to prepare myself for the opening feast. I don’t want to bring shame upon my house by looking unpresentable,” he admitted, but his smile wasn’t a hundred percent honest. He knew he wasn’t as handsome as Brandon and would never look as presentable as him.

“I think you already look handsome and presentable,” Cersei suddenly said, thus pulling him from his thoughts. When he looked at her he noticed as her eyes moved up and down his body once. “Yes, you do,” she said once more with a nod and smiled at him, and this time he felt how she squeezed his hand gently.

“Thank you, Cersei,” Ned said, and somehow he felt a bit more confident about himself. “You look very beautiful just as you always do, I’m sure you will make a lot of men speechless at the feast tonight.” It was the burgeoning confidence that made him say this without even thinking, and Ned was already scolding himself within his mind when he noticed that Cersei was blushing.

“Thank you Ned,” she said with green eyes that seemed to dance with happiness. “But I don’t want to make many men speechless, I only want to make one man speechless,” her eyes were still looking into his, and Ned felt unable to look away from her. Something was drawing him into the green pools as she raised up onto her tiptoes, tilting her head back and getting closer to him.

“Ahem,” within a second Ned was standing straight again, Cersei’s hand still in his as he looked into Jaime’s green eyes. Jaime had a smirk on his lips. “I’m sorry to disturb you two, but I think I should escort my sister back to our camp,” Ned looked to his side and Cersei’s angry eyes were on her brother who avoided her gaze. “You have done nothing wrong Lord Eddard. I thank you for being honorable with her, but she will need time to prepare herself for the opening feast, and our mother will scold me if she is back too late, so I would rather not take the risk.” Now Jaime laughed, and Ned couldn’t keep himself from smirking too.

“I understand what you mean, and I don’t want to anger your mother in any way,” he answered honestly, as he could imagine the scolding his mother would give him if he brought Lya back too late.

“I think you could have waited a moment longer, Jaime,” Cersei suddenly said, and Ned turned to her.

“Don’t be mad at your brother Cersei, he’s only trying to be a good son,” his deep voice was gentle. “I really enjoyed our walk, and I hope that we will soon be able to repeat this,” he was letting go of her arm, but caught her hand once more within his. 

“Hmm,” was Cersei's first reply, but then she also looked at their hands again and the small smile returned to her face. “I enjoyed our walk too, Ned, and just as you do I hope we will soon be able to repeat it,” she finished again, her eyes locked on his.

“I’m sure we will see each other at the feast,” he gently squeezed her hand before letting it go and then bowing towards her. “I wish you a good day until then.” With that he turned to Jaime and gave a nod, “just as I wish you a good day, Lord Jaime.”

Jaime returned the pleasantries with a smirk on his face and offered his own arm to his sister after she had said her goodbye, then their ways parted and Ned walked back towards the tents of his family.

“Ned!” Someone suddenly asked next to him and he would recognize her voice everywhere.

“Ashara,” he said with a smile and turned into the direction the voice came from, only to look directly into laughing purple eyes that were only inches away from his.

Chapter Text

Rodrik II

Winterfell

While he had been happy about Arya’s arrival in Winterfell, someone had seen it as a chance to escape. The man had thought he wouldn’t pay attention to anything besides his wife — and for a moment that had been true — but the direwolf pups had taken his job over from him.

It had been quite the funny scene when the pups had chased after the man, jumping at him until he tumbled and fell to the ground. The pups had shown no mercy. They had growled at him, and their claws had already been sharp and strong enough to tear at the man’s black clothing.

The man had made one more attempt — shoving one of the pups to the side — but before he could even stand up one of the direwolves had jumped forward and snapped, strong jaws with sharp teeth closing around the man’s hand.

Rodrik hadn’t anticipated that the pups would already be strong enough to bite a finger from a man’s hand, but it was easy to guess when the man was bleeding strongly and missing a finger.

Still, the biggest surprise had come when he had asked ‘Maester Walys’ why he had tried to get out of the keep without notice, only to be told by Arya that ‘Maester Walys’ was long dead, as Lyarra had told her through an encrypted message while they had been gone.

This had led to where they were now, sitting in a chamber of the keep with the man chained to a chair while Arya watched from the other side of the room. Rodrik himself was walking up and down the room, not saying a word as he still sorted his thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” was the first question that he asked the man, not looking into his eyes.

“The Citadel sent me to be the maester in Winterfell,” the man answered, and Rodrik looked at Arya. His wife only shook her head.

“You’re lying. My daughter told me they didn’t inform the Citadel of Maester Walys’s death,” she said after a moment, and now Rodrik looked towards the man.

“They informed the Citadel after the invitation for Harrenhal arrived at Winterfell,” was the immediate answer, as if the man hadn’t even needed to think about it.

“Another lie,” Arya said, and Rodrik slowly approached the man. “My daughter also told me she and her husband don’t want another maester. They would rather call one of our own — one they can trust.” It had always amazed Rodrik how calm Arya stayed during interrogations: her tone and behavior gave away not a single trace of her own thoughts and emotions.

“I’m not lying,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Lord Stark has realized that every lord needs a maester to advise him, that his wife can’t advise him as well as we can.” Rodrik had seen the flash of a smirk on the man’s face, and that was enough for him to grab the hand and press his thumb down onto the fresh wound.

“It was good advice to wear the leather gloves,” he said with a smile to Arya as blood shot out of the wound once again, and the man in the chair twitched from the pain.

“Have I not always given you wonderful advice, my love?” his wife asked with a raised brow.

“Always,” was Rodrik’s honest answer, and he lessened the pressure on the man’s wound.

“No woman can give advice like a maester,” the man said after a few deep and rather fast breaths.

“And why would that be?” Arya asked the man, and Rodrik finally let go of the hand, cleaning his glove on the black tunic the man was wearing.

“You don’t have the knowledge we have,” the man’s breathing seemed to calm down again.

“But anyone can gain knowledge through books,” Arya answered calmly, not really impressed by that statement.

“Aye, I don’t see why this would be a reason to need a maester: our people have a lot of knowledge too,” Rodrik added and looked at the man.

Yet the man was suddenly silent, his eyes moving from Arya to Rodik and back. Then he shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said with a small smile.

“I really wanted to make this easy on you, as I think you’ve already gone through enough pain for one day, but if that is what you think,” Arya sighed and looked at Rodrik before simply giving a nod. “He is yours; I will come back later.” With those words, she stood up and left the room.

“You can still let me go,” the man suddenly said, and Rodrik turned to him surprised. “Let me go and I will tell the Citadel that Winterfell needs a new maester: they will send someone.” The man looked down at his hand. “I will tell them I ran into a wolf on my way back.” The man’s eyes were on Rodrik again.

It seemed as if Rodrik’s reaction hadn’t made the man happy. With every moment that passed in silence the man seemed to fume more, fighting against the chains that were keeping him locked in place.

“Let me go now, or—” but the man couldn’t finish his words as one of the leather covered hands slapped him so hard his head was flung to one side.

“Or what?” Rodrik asked in a quiet tone, looking into the eyes of the man he had truly believed to be Maester Walys.

He didn’t blame Arya for this. After all their travels, it was easy enough to forget one small detail among all the things that had happened during their absence. How should Arya have known that the death of a maester might be so important later on?

“The Citadel sent me. If I don’t return, they will send someone else: they will know something happened.” The man seemed so sure about this, and Rodrik only shrugged.

“I don’t see why I should be worried about that.” It was clear by his tone that the words hadn’t impressed Rodrik, and the man looked at him with pure fury.

“You will care about it when we destroy you and your loved ones, when nobody with the Stark name is left alive, and we will make sure your family name will be forgotten after years of being remembered as a disgrace.” A smirk was on the man’s face. “We are the most powerful organization in Westeros. Every lord has a maester as an advisor, and the king also has one on his council. We have learned how to use these connections to get what we want. We have learned how to play with all these people like pieces on a board.” The man began to laugh before the cracking of bones could be heard and the man’s head snapped back.

“You think you can threaten my family?” Rodrik asked the man whose nose was now broken and bleeding. Another punch followed, again directly on the nose to really crush it.

The man yelped in pain and wanted to raise his hands to his nose, but the chains held him back.

“We don’t need to know anything about you barbarians: Westeros will be a better place without you,” the man spat at Rodrik, but the fluid didn’t reach his face.

“Thank you for your information,” Arya’s voice was suddenly clearly heard in the room, and the man looked at her with wide eyes. “You thought you would be alone? You thought we had no way to listen to what you were saying?” Arya laughed. “You really know nothing about us — nothing besides your prejudice, at least.” She stepped closer to the man, and Rodrik saw the smile on her face. “You may call us brutes and barbarians, but that is because you don’t know anything about us, and have made no attempt to change that.” Rodrik was sure a bit of sadness accompanied his wife’s words, and he stepped behind the man.

“You have no chance against the power of the Citadel,” the man growled out, and then he tried to spit at Arya, the blood running from his nose covering his chin and clothes already.

“Believe that if it gives you peace in your final rest,” Arya said, and then a snap could be heard and life left the man’s body as soon as Rodrik broke his neck.

“We need to inform Lyarra and Rickard about this, Rod,” his wife said in a soft voice as they walked towards the door. “It sounded like a conspiracy to me, as if the maesters think they should rule Westeros.” Arya sighed as she opened the door.

“We could send a crannogman to Harrenhal with the message: you know they have their ways to make sure it is delivered in complete secrecy,” Rodrik offered as guards entered the room to drag the body out and take care of it.

“But there is more,” Arya said. “While you took care of him, I checked that message from Maester Walys. The ink was pretty old, and it made no sense to me why this man would send it out now.” The smile was back on her lips.

“You found another hidden message on it?” Rodrik asked with a raised brow, and his wife nodded.

“He told them Maester Walys was nowhere to be found, and that he had only found that note and thought Rickard and Lyarra might have taken care of Maester Walys before he could send the message.” Arya pulled the small piece of parchment out. “He advised them to act against the Starks, that he sees a risk in us for the plans they have.” With that she handed the parchment to Rodrik, letting him read the discovered message.

Arthur II

Keep of Harrenhal

It had surprised him when Eddard Stark hadn’t seemed to understand whom he had meant with his words: shouldn’t the boy know to whom he was betrothed?

“His parents requested that we keep it a secret until the final feast of the tourney, that is when they want to proclaim it,” Elia suddenly told him, as if she could read his thoughts.

“But why?” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from asking as they walked next to each other, Rhaenys just a few steps ahead. “I mean, shouldn’t the Starks be proud they can announce the betrothal of him and Ashara, and of their firstborn son to our solecito?” he added as if he wanted to make sure he had said nothing wrong and hadn’t meant to offend anyone.

“Well, the tourney is hosted by Lord Whent, don’t you think it would be rude to take the attention from him and his family from the beginning?” There was a familiar smile on Elia’s lips: she had always looked at him like that when she thought something should have gone without asking. “This way we will show our respect and make sure no one forgets the final feast, which should in turn honor Lord Whent,” she continued, and Arthur gave a slow nod.

In such situations he was happy he and Ashara had an older brother. He didn’t want to be a lord, with all these small things you had to pay attention to. To make matters worse, it was simply expected that you knew them, and that you knew how to act and behave perfectly.

King’s Landing had shown this to him even more clearly than his home had. It was just one big game — a game that Arthur still hadn’t taken a side in. How could he? He still needed to understand what everyone's goal was.

Now he noticed that he might have missed one side completely: Elia’s side. Somehow, Arthur had a feeling she was also playing the game, but that she was far more skilled than anyone had anticipated — that she had actually tricked them all into believing she wasn’t even capable of playing.

His eyes moved to Elia for a moment, thoughtfully looking at her while she was watching her daughter intently.

“What is bothering you?” She had not even looked at him, but a smile was playing on her face while she watched her daughter. “It is hard not to notice you staring — especially when you’re the only person next to me at the moment.” A soft laugh followed, and she finally looked at him.

Arthur was silent, his purple eyes thoughtful as he looked at Rhaenys, who was playing with her kitten Balerion — who had joined them when they were back in the keep.

“My princess,” Arthur then slowly said, and his eyes moved back to Elia. “I,” he looked at her again and took a breath. “I just realized that I might have missed a side in a game I have been watching for a long time, and I think that side might actually be the one that is most appealing to me, but I still have to find out that side’s true aspirations,” he said, and he was surprised by his own choice of words.

“Oh Arthur,” Elia just said with a light chuckle. “Believe me when I tell you this: you are one of only a few people who have noticed it, so it is no shame to have missed it for some time,” she continued with a smile. “I can only hope that the side will be to your liking, as your support for it would be greatly welcomed.” She looked at her daughter again, smiling as if nothing had been said between them.

So Arthur only nodded, staying silent as they walked behind Rhaenys.

“She really does like Lord Eddard,” he finally said. “Since we met him she is so excited, I can’t remember seeing her like this often,” he added in a gentle tone. “But it is good; this is how she should have always felt as a child.” A small smile finally made its way onto his face, too.

Elia only hummed in return and was silent for a moment. “We met because of Balerion yesterday. Somehow our grumpy kitten felt so drawn to him that he abruptly bolted away, only for us to find him resting on Lord Eddard’s shoulder while he was also holding Rhaenys in his arms.” Now it was Elia’s turn to look thoughtful.

“Rhaenys was in his arms before ever meeting him?” Arthur asked in surprise, and Elia gave a slight nod. “But she is never like that with people she doesn’t know,” he added with a shake of his head.

“Balerion also never acts like that,” Elia said, and she looked at Arthur with a raised brow.

“You think she trusted him because Balerion trusted him?” Surprise was clear in his voice.

“I think it is a possibility. At the very least, there seems to be a special bond between our solecito and her Nappa.” Elia couldn’t hold back the smile upon her use of the nickname her daughter had chosen for the Northerner.

Rhaenys suddenly stopped in front of them and turned around, looking at Elia a bit confused and thoughtful.

“Solecito?” Elia asked.

“Yesterday, Nappa promised me he would eat dinner with us today,” Rhaenys slowly answered and looked at Elia with big brown eyes. Even Arthur had to admit he probably wouldn’t have been able to decline a single wish from Rhaenys if she looked at him like that.

“Oh, did he?” Elia asked in return, and Arthur was sure this was a real surprise.

“Yes,” the little girl nodded eagerly.

“Well, then we should probably make sure dinner is prepared for us and Nappa, shouldn’t we?” They weren’t far from the princess’s chambers, and Ser Lewyn simply turned the corner and walked silently towards Rhaenys when Elia turned to Arthur.

“Would you go and inform Lord Eddard that I, my daughter, and some people close to us would like to eat a small — and rather early — dinner with him? I would say if he is in the keep two hours before the feast starts, that should be early enough,” Elia smiled at him and Arthur gave a nod.

“I’m sure Ser Lewyn will happily escort you to your chambers while I bring the message to Lord Eddard.” For a moment he was silent, looking at the ground before he looked at Elia again. “I would like to ask that I be allowed to escort Lord Eddard back to the keep from the Stark Camp,” he then said.

It would be the perfect chance to talk with the young man and hopefully get to know him a bit. Arthur had to admit he would feel better if his sister’s future husband wasn’t a complete stranger to him.

“That is actually what I had planned,” Elia said with a smile. “Ser Lewyn will stay with us until you return.” With that she turned to walk towards Lewyn and the excited Rhaenys, but then she stopped once more. “Arthur,” she said and turned her head to look at him, “use the time you have.” With that she continued her way to her daughter and then back to her chamber.

For a moment, Arthur just stood silently, surprised that Elia again seemed to have known what he was thinking. Someday he would have to ask Ashara if she knew how Elia did that, but now he had another task — one he actually looked forward to, as he would use the time just as Elia had told him.

Arthur had briefly considered riding a horse to the Stark Camp, but then he realized this would give him less time to talk with Lord Eddard than walking would. So he was once again walking across the grounds of Harrenhal.

Once more he had to walk through the market, and this time he decided he would use his next time off duty to take a stroll through it and see what the merchants offered: mayhaps he would find something nice for Ashara — something that would help her prepare for her new home would be nice — or would she and her husband live in King’s Landing? He hoped not: it would be better if she was out of that nest of vipers.

In passing, he noticed that at the end of the market it seemed as if another merchant had arrived and was just setting up his stand. That was a bit odd, as all the others had arrived days earlier, but Arthur didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it. Instead, he turned away from the main path onto a smaller one that would lead him to the Stark Camp where he should find his sister and Lord Eddard.

Chapter Text

Ashara V

Stark Camp

“Ashara,” Ned said, his smile quickly turning into a look of shock, but his grey eyes remained as gentle and soft as fog. She couldn’t really fault him for his shock since — after all — she was about a foot or two away from him and invading his personal space.

Shortly after Ashara and Oberyn had separated from Cersei and her brother, Ashara had shooed Oberyn away for two main reasons. First, it was clear that Cersei was there to spend time with Ned and steal him from her, so Ashara had to get to Ned before Cersei, and Oberyn would just slow her down with his laziness and his teasing. Second and foremost, she couldn’t have Oberyn hovering over her and Ned while Ashara tried to form a deeper bond with her future betrothed. Oberyn’s teasing and never-ending rambling would only make her look stupid in front of Ned. Thus — after Oberyn’s annoying comments and pleas — she had managed to get him to leave her alone.

After Oberyn had left, Ashara had gotten down to the task of finding Ned. According to Elia, he should have been around the Northern camp, but Ashara had gone to the improvised dining area, improvised sparring yards, the makeshift stables, and near his family’s area, but Ned was nowhere to be seen. Ashara had seen Lord and Lady Stark from a distance and had been about to ask them for Ned’s whereabouts until she had seen him — with her .

Ned had walked with his arm entwined with Cersei Lannister. Ashara’s vision had turned redder than the crimson of the lioness’ house. Ashara had had half a mind to go and interrupt their little walk — her Dornish blood burning hot within her veins — but she had decided against it. Instead, she had followed them as quietly as she could without them noticing. Her ire and jealousy had only grown when watching Cersei blatantly flirt with Ned and Ned seemingly not having noticed. Her presence had gone unnoticed by Cersei, Ned, and Cersei’s brother — Ser Jaime — for the time being until she had almost revealed herself to interrupt what was about to happen. Cersei and Ned had been holding hands, and while Ned’s gaze had remained innocent, Ashara had seen the intentions behind the blonde’s green gaze. Cersei had gone onto her tiptoes and had started getting closer to Ned’s lips. Over her dead body was Cersei going to kiss her future betrothed. Ashara had been about to jump out from behind the bush where she was hiding, but Ser Jaime had luckily beaten her to the punch. In the end — with Cersei and her brother out of the way — she would finally have been able to spend some time with Ned. She had been so happy that — while she had mentally celebrated — Ned had disappeared. Ashara had groaned and had gone in search of Ned yet again. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken her long to find him near his family’s area within the Northern camp.

“Ned,” she said, giving him the most beautiful and charming smile she could — though it was completely unforced, considering how easy it was to smile when near him. Ashara could feel her purple eyes gleaming for him.

“What are you doing here? I would think you’d be in the princess’s company, or preparing yourself for tonight’s feast?” Ned asked her.

Ashara nodded. “The feast is not happening until later this evening, and Elia took her daughter for a walk alongside my dear brother. Mother and daughter bonding time: I wouldn’t dare to interrupt.”

“Aye,” Ned said. “I came across the princess and the little princess when I was taking a walk around the tourney grounds to clear my head.”

Ashara looked at him in confusion. “To clear your head? Is something troubling you?” Ashara asked in genuine concern.

Ned quickly shook his head and gave her a tight smile. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Ashara nodded, but she looked at the ground a bit in shame and a bit in nervousness. “If… if something is worrying you — though I know we haven’t known each other for that long — I want you to know that you can tell me anything… and you can trust me. I would never betray your trust…” The normally confident Ashara Dayne said in a small and shy voice, and she could feel how her cheeks were tinged in a light pink. Ashara was still looking at the ground— her feet drawing random shapes in the grass — until she felt a strong and warm hand taking her own. Ashara looked in surprise to see Ned taking her hand in his, and if she had been flustered and blushing before, now she must be redder than a Dornish pepper.

“Thank you, Ashara,” Ned said with a genuine smile, and Ashara could swear she could get lost in the grey pools of fog he called eyes.

Taking a better hold of herself, she smiled back. “Don’t thank me, Ned. That is what friends are for,” and lovers, she added in her mind. “What do you say if we take a walk? It might calm down those nerves of yours,” Ashara suggested, and she saw Ned blushing. Ashara decided at that moment that she loved the blushing form of the man before her. Without waiting for an answer, Ashara entwined her arm with Ned’s and started walking towards a lake she knew was close to the camp.

“And what were you doing just before I found you?” Ashara asked him, her heart flipping in joy by having her arm entangled with his. Ashara was fighting the blush at feeling Ned’s arm muscles.

“I had a pleasant talk with Lady Cersei while her brother accompanied her,” Ned said a little too bluntly.

“Is that so?” Ashara asked him, trying to control her annoyance. “And what did you speak about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ned shrugged. “Not much, mostly about the dinner I had with her and her family.”

Ashara faltered for a second before composing herself. She had of course known about it, but Ned had no reason to think she had known, and this was an opportunity to get more information. “You had dinner with the Lannisters?”

“Aye,” he said. “Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna invited me to have dinner with them and their family the day I arrived. It was unexpected, I must admit, but I had a pleasant time.“

“I’m glad.” Now it was Ashara’s turn to give him a tight smile.

“And what were you doing around the Northern camp?” Ned asked, probably trying to break the awkward silence that had ensued.

Ashara quickly directed a genuine smile to him. “Looking for you, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was extremely bored inside the castle with Elia, Rhaenys, and my brother outside, and all the other ladies in waiting were given the day for themselves because of the opening feast, so I decided to try my luck around your family’s camp to find you,” she half-lied.

“It seems you were lucky then,” Ned said with a small smile.

“It seems I was,” Ashara said while thinking that this man was to be her husband.

“Where are we going?” Ned asked her after they had walked in silence for a while.

Ashara smiled. “Here,” she said before a small lake could be seen. The water was crystal clear, and it shone with the bright sun pointing at it. It was surrounded by trees and flowers, and —as if the view was taken out of a tale — fish jumped out of the water to dive back again, and a family of deer was resting at the far end.

“It’s beautiful,” Ned said with a smile. They walked closer to the water and just enjoyed the view — the two of them, together. Ashara looked up at the man she had fallen for, and saw nothing but peace and calmness on his face. His face was adorned with a smile, and his grey eyes looked happy and peaceful. He looked so handsome that Ashara couldn’t help but close her eyes.

Winterfell’s great hall was filled to the brim, as was expected when a son of the Warden of the North and a friend to the crown princess had gotten married. People from all over the realm had attended their wedding. Houses Tully, Arryn, Tyrell, Baratheon, Martell, Targaryen, and Lannister, much to her delight. Seeing the sulking form of Cersei Lannister during the feast and the ire behind her green eyes when Ned placed the Stark cloak around her shoulders was something Ashara was never going to forget. Elia and Rhaegar were representing the crown and sat alongside them at the high table. Ned’s family sat with them as well as Robert since he was Ned’s chosen brother and Lyanna’s betrothed. Ned sat at her side, looking like a powerful and handsome lord.

“MY LORDS! IT’S TIME FOR THE BEDDING!!!” some lord shouted to the cheers of many men, and Ashara could see the lust conquered eyes of basically every man in the room.

Thankfully, Ned stood up and punched the table, shutting every lustful man down “There will be no bedding,” he said in a cold tone. He had suddenly taken her hand and helped her stand up. “My wife and I will be retiring for the night, but make sure to enjoy the rest of the feast,” Ned said before leading her outside the hall.

Suddenly, Ashara stood in a thin, purple nightdress that left very little to the imagination. Before her, Ned stood shirtless with only his pants on. Ashara rejoiced at the sight of his strong chest and tight abs. Her vision quickly took in those strong arms and broad shoulders that would hold her for eternity. Ned walked slowly towards her, and Ashara could feel her arousal growing with each step he took. When Ned was one or two inches away from her, he slowly helped her out of her nightdress. Her big breasts spilled out of the thin fabric, her flat stomach and long, creamy legs were revealed to him, as well as her ass and cleanly shaved core.

“Beautiful,” Ned said while taking hold of her cheeks. Ned bent down, but stopped when he was less than a inch away from kissing her.

“Ashara,” he said.

“Ashara,” he repeated.

“Ashara.”

“Ashara!” A voice took her out of her musing, and she saw Ned with a worried expression on his face.

“Huh?!” Ashara asked in confusion, and it was then when she noticed she had been daydreaming. Ashara blushed and crossed her legs slightly when feeling the dampness between her legs.

“Are you all right? You just stared into nothing for a solid minute, and I called you several times before you responded,” Ned explained with a worried look.

Ashara blushed in embarrassment. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said before looking up at Ned’s relieved face. As if something had taken hold of her, she couldn’t break her gaze from Ned’s.

Ned frowned. “Are you sure you are well? Because we can—” he was interrupted when her delicate hand took hold of his cheek and brushed her fingers against it.

“Yes. I’m fine… more than fine,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to succeed where Cersei had failed… or so she had thought. 

“Ahem,” an awkward cough stopped her, and when Ashara and Ned turned startled looks upon the person who interrupted them, they were surprised to see Arthur standing right there. Well, mayhaps Ned was confused. Ashara would make certain to geld her brother later.

“Ser Arthur,” Ned greeted, taking a step back, and Ashara frowned at losing the contact.

“Lord Eddard, Ash…” her brother said, a little nervous.

“Artie…” Ashara said with an overly sweet voice and killing gaze.

Arthur visually gulped at her voice. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the presence of Lord Eddard was requested, and I’m to escort him back to the keep.”

“Really?” Ned asked.

“Yes,” Her brother responded, still nervous of the look she was sending him. 

Ned looked pensive for a bit. “Do you think I could change before we leave? I would like to be prepared for the feast, in case there won’t be any time left to change when my presence isn’t needed anymore.”

“That should be fine, Lord Eddard,” Arthur said.

Ashara quickly formulated a plan in her head and smirked. “Yes, why don’t we escort you to the keep? I have to get to my chambers to get ready for the feast after all,” Ashara said with not so innocent intentions. Ned was going to change his clothes after all.

“I was told to only escort Lord Eddard back,” Arthur suddenly answered with a new found strength and security. “You’re supposed to come back with the person that accompanied you to the Stark Camp,” she saw how her brother looked around, searching for the person that had escorted her.

“But that would mean that I do have to return alo–” but Ashara was interrupted before she could finish that sentence.

“‘I’m right here, Ser Arthur,” a new voice said, and all three of them were surprised to see Oberyn before them, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Oberyn, what are you doing here?” Ashara asked with the same overly sweet voice.

That only made Oberyn’s smirk bigger. “I was always close to you and Lord Eddard, my sister after all, told me to escort you, and I would never disappoint her. And now I will escort you to the keep with no further delay, Lady Ashara,” he said, and Ashara could feel a vein throbbing in her forehead.

“It is settled then. Let’s leave, Lord Eddard,” Arthur said and quickly turned around and started walking, clearly not wanting to be a second more than necessary in her presence. Arthur knew how far her ire could go. 

“It seems I have to leave, Ashara. I presume I’ll see you at tonight’s feast?” Ned said.

Ashara quickly gave him a smile. “You most certainly will.” Without even thinking, she got up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, causing him to flush. “See you tonight, Ned,” she said.

“A-aye… I’ll see you tonight,” Ned said with flushed cheeks and quickly turned around to walk behind her brother.

With Ned and Arthur gone, now it was only Oberyn and Ashara. “Quite the kiss that would have been had your brother not interrupted,” Oberyn said with a smirk. That was when it dawned on Ashara. He was spying on us.

Eddard VII

Stark Camp & Way to the Keep

Ned had thought that he would have had at least two more hours to prepare for the feast, but Ser Arthur had destroyed that plan when he had suddenly appeared in the Stark Camp and told him that his person had been requested within the keep.

At least Arthur Dayne had granted him leave to change his clothes before they would be walking back to the keep — the Sword of the Morning had been instructed to escort him back to the keep so that he would arrive without further delay.

Ashara hadn’t been at all happy about this development — especially when her brother had told her that she was to return with Prince Oberyn as her escort — but there really wasn’t anything Ned could do about that. Ser Arthur had been given his task by someone of the royal family, and as a Kinsguard he was certainly not going to disobey a member of the royal family.

Ned had hurriedly Eddard washed his face with water from a bucket the servants had brought into his tent, and he freshened himself up before getting his clothes for the feast out of a chest he had brought with him from the Eyrie.

Jon had made sure that he and Robert had gotten not just presentable but fine clothes for the feast — even though Ned had thought presentable was enough for a second son: who should care about what he was wearing?

He also had to admit that he liked the feeling of the high quality material against his fingers. The tunic was of a dark grey color that reminded him of that of a wolf’s fur. His family’s crest was embroidered upon his left breast, but the Direwolf wasn’t snarling: it was a quiet wolf, just like Ned.

With a shake of his head he pulled himself out of his thoughts, his index finger moving away from the embroidered quiet wolf. Instead, he quickly pulled the tunic over his upper body, muscles flexing with every move he made.

The black trousers and boots quickly followed so he could shove his tunic inside the trousers before closing them and putting his leather belt on. The belt was actually a gift from Robert, made of the finest leather and with a handcrafted buckle. A smile came to his lips when his thumb brushed over the buckle: it was a quiet direwolf, matching the one upon his breast.

He sighed when he looked at himself in the mirror and straightened the tunic and trousers once more before heading back out of his tent where he nearly bumped into Ser Arthur.

“Done already?” The man asked him in a surprised tone, and Ned raised a brow. “Most of the lords I know need nearly as long as a lady to prepare themselves,” Ashara’s brother quickly added with a small smile, and Ned couldn’t stop a smirk from appearing on his face.

“I’m not just any other lord, Ser Arthur,” he answered after a moment, and nodded towards the path. “Besides, it seemed as if you were in a hurry with not much time to waste, so we should probably get going, don’t you think?” The smirk was gone and a small smile stayed as the other man nodded and they slowly walked towards the path.

“It is good to not be like the others,” the famous knight next to him said after a moment of walking silently. “Too many people want to be like others. They try to imitate them, and in the process they lose themselves.” A sigh left the man’s lips.

“These sound like the words of a man who has witnessed it.” Ned slowly turned his head and looked at Ashara’s brother. He silently watched the man for a moment before he nodded, not needing an answer. “Jon — Lord Arryn I mean — once said to me that we grow with the things we witness, and that even though they might pain us, they will help us to learn and understand.” Ned had heard enough about King’s Landing to know that the lessons there might be one of the hardest anyone could be taught.

“These are wise words, but many people say that Lord Arryn is a wise man,” the knight returned with a nod. “I think you were lucky to get fostered by him. I’m sure he has taught you and your foster brother a lot.” Somehow Ned had the feeling that the statement was left open on purpose.

“When I was told that I would be fostered by Lord Arryn I was… unsure. I was still a young boy, and I wanted to stay at home,” Ned began to tell the other man. “But today I’m happy my family made that decision. If I had stayed at Winterfell or in the North… I don’t think I would be the man I am today.” Ned laughed. “You know, when I arrived at the Eyrie, I was actually a scared little boy who tried to hide it, but Robert showed me that it was okay to be afraid, and that is how we became friends.” With a smile on his face, he turned his head in the direction of Robert’s camp.

“I have heard mixed tales about Lord Baratheon,” Arthur suddenly said, and Ned looked at him again. “Forgive me,” the knight started, but Ned shook his head.

“There is nothing to forgive Ser Arthur,” Ned admitted with a sigh. “Robert made mistakes… but those mistakes are human. I think everything was caused by him having to watch his parents drown.” Ned sighed and shook his head, but he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulders.

“I can only imagine how hard it must have been for him.” Ned looked up at the man who was just a few years older than him. “As you know, I have been in battles. I have seen many friends die. But that is different from having to watch your parents dying.” Again Ned nodded, but a small smile was on his face.

“I think many people judge Robert on these tales,” he admitted. “But it feels good to know that you wanted to hear my side and that you made an effort to understand.” With these words Ned's tone dropped a bit. “Robert is a good man, and I think he would like to get to know you, mayhaps have a sparring session.” Finally the other man took his hand away and smirked.

“Well, if you want I could arrange to be in the sparring yard when the sun rises tomorrow,” Arthur offered, and Ned raised a brow before offering one of his hands.

“That sounds like a fine offer, and I will make sure Robert and I are there,” jr saif as the famous knight shook his hand. “It is good that you chose the early hours of the morning,” Ned then added with a laugh.

“Why?” Arthur now looked at him with a raised brow and was a bit surprised.

“I don’t like to have an audience while I practice. I want my skills to be known by as few people as possible, as otherwise I would be predictable.” Once more Ned looked at the other man who was now also smirking and nodding.

“That is very wise, Lord Eddard,” the Sword of the Morning then said. “It is definitely an advantage if your opponent doesn’t know what you can do with your weapon of choice.” The man was still smiling as they got closer to the keep.

Silence returned between them, neither wanting to get too much attention on them as they stepped inside and slowly Ned got a bit nervous. He still didn’t know who had requested his presence this close to the feast; he only knew it was a member of the royal family, as a King’s Guard came to fetch him.

His thought moved back to the talk for a moment. Even though Ser Arthur was one of the most famous knights he wasn’t haughty. Arthur was actually like Ashara in a way that made it easy for Ned to talk with him.

They had been wandering through the floors until Arthur stopped in front of a door and banged his fist against it before opening it slowly.

Arthur gave a quick bow as he stood in the doorway. “As requested I have brought Lord Eddard,” he announced before stepping aside so Ned could step inside.

Within a second Ned had a little girl in one of his arms while he petted a black kitten with his other hand.

“Nappa is here for dinner,” the little princess squealed in delight, and Ned could hear a chuckle from the other side of the room.

“That he is solecito,” Princess Elia said, and then she nodded towards Arthur. “Thank you Ser Arthur. If you would be so kind as to make sure we are not disturbed.” Ned didn’t hear an answer, but he was sure the knight had nodded before the door closed softly behind him again.

Chapter Text

Lewyn I

Elia’s Chambers

He looked with interest at the picture in front of him. Again his niece’s daughter was sitting on the young Northerner’s arm while Balerion enjoyed being close to the man. 

Everyone who knew Balerion would be surprised by this view, as the kitten was normally grumpy to put it politely and let no one close to him besides Rhaenys and Elia. Then this Northerner came into their lives, and it seemed as if the kitten was a different animal whenever the man was around.

That is what confused Lewyn a bit: how could a single man’s presence change the behavior of animals and humans alike? Sure, some people might say that a charismatic young man can have such an influence, but Lewyn had met enough of these men to know that none of them would have had such a strong effect.

That begged the question: what would? Magic? That was something Lewyn couldn’t believe, as so many years had passed without any trace of magic besides the Wall in the North. All the dragons were dead, and nobody had seen any children of the forest for decades.

Without even noticing it, Lewyn shook his head at himself, rolling his eyes that he had even allowed himself to consider magic for a single second.

“Uncle,” his niece suddenly pulled his attention onto her. “I know you’re here as a Kingsguard, but I think you could at least greet my guest.” Some might think that Elia was offended, but Lewyn noticed the amused tone that accompanied her words and gave a nod.

“Lord Stark,” he said with a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you again.”

“Ser Lewyn,” the younger man replied with a nod. “The pleasure is mine.”

It was a short exchange of words, but more than enough for Lewyn. He only nodded once more before taking another step back into the shadows to give the two more space.

This time Elia wouldn’t invite him to join them for dinner. They had talked about this before, and it had actually been his wish that she wouldn’t. He only wanted to watch what was going on in the room, and he would eat later on during the feast.

While Lewyn watched the young man together with his niece and her daughter, he had noticed more than once that it seemed as if the second son belonged right where he was. From the moment that Eddard Stark had entered the room he had acted more like a father to Rhaenys then her true father.

Rickard’s second son had picked up the little princess and played with her. Even when Rhaenys had said that she wanted to fly like a dragon, the young man had just done as she wished. It had been a funny sight to see how Eddard was holding Rhaenys at her middle straight into the air and running through the room with her, turning right and left whenever the little princess told him.

Laughter had filled the room, not just of Rhaenys and the young man but also of his niece, even though she was trying to keep her own quiet with a hand in front of her mouth. Still, even if Elia could have hidden her laughter completely, her eyes would have given her away. There had been a twinkle in them that Lewyn remembered from when she had been a young and carefree child. She had radiated pure and innocent happiness about what was happening.

Lewyn was pulled from his thoughts as Rhaenys asked a question that Lewyn would never forget.

“Do you like the sun?” The little princess sounded so innocent, and Lewyn could imagine how she must look to the young man who seemed surprised for a second.

“Well,” the man was still looking into the little princess’s eyes as he positioned her on his arm again and walked towards the window, pointing at the setting sun. “The sun is strong and beautiful. She always tries to spread her warmth and grant us light for as long as possible. What the sun is doing isn’t easy, but the sun does it without complaint. Every single day she rises again — as strong as the day before — and ready to fight against the cold and darkness for us,” the man said in his deep voice, and Lewyn even caught himself smiling. “So yes, princess, I do like the sun, and I think that whoever doesn’t is a fool.”

Excited clapping followed from Rhaenys, pulling the attention of everyone onto her as she wrapped her tiny arms around the man's neck and hugged him. “Mami and I are both suns, so that means you like us too,” his niece’s daughter exclaimed excitedly, and Lewyn’s eyes immediately moved to Elia.

Lewyn had expected to see shock on his niece’s face, but instead she was looking down and a slight blush was visible on her cheeks. Now it was Lewyn’s turn to look shocked and widen his eyes, as this definitely should not have been Elia’s reaction.

“I think we should start eating dinner,” his niece suddenly exclaimed and looked up again. “Let us eat before everything gets cold,” the young woman added after a second and rose from her seat to walk over to a table and prepare a plate for her daughter. There had also been food on the table Elia had already sat at, but Lewyn was sure that she hoped to regain her composure through a moment without anyone looking at her.

Yet again Lewyn had to admit that the young Stark had done nothing wrong. He had looked at Elia for a second, but that was out of surprise at what Rhaenys had said. As soon as he had noticed that Elia hadn’t seemed comfortable, he had looked away, concentrating on Rhaenys again.

During dinner, Rhaenys had decided that she would sit next to their guest and Eddard Stark once more proved that he was like no other man Lewyn had met before. Without any comment he had helped Rhaenys with her food, cutting the meat and making sure she was also having the vegetables she wanted — as well as the ones she needed to stay healthy.

Even when Rhaenys had complained about some vegetable, the young man had seemed to come up with some idea to make her eat it, whether it had been through a story or simply eating it and acting as if he completely enjoyed it.

Even though Eddard gave him not a single reason to be suspicious, Lewyn decided to keep an eye on him — and somehow Lewyn knew that not having a reason was the real reason for him to get suspicious. It could be that Eddard Stark — his friend Rickard’s son — really was just a good man. Still, it could also be that the man was a risk to his niece and her daughter, and was just playing a role in front of them.

“Will you play with me again?” Rhaenys’s soft voice pulled Lewyn out of his thoughts, and he realized that Eddard Stark was kneeling at the door and looking into the little princess’s eyes as he gave a nod.

“Aye, if your Mami allows it I will play with you again,” Lewyn heard the man answer in his deep voice before little Rhaenys flung her tiny arms around his neck and hugged the man.

“I’m sure Mami will,” the little girl said in a delighted squeal, and from the smile that was on Elia’s lips — and the twinkle in her eyes — Lewyn knew that she would never deny Eddard Stark spending time with her daughter.

“Thank you for joining us on such short notice Lord Eddard,” his niece then said as the man let go of Rhaenys and stood straight again. “It meant a lot to her that you kept your promise, and neither of us will ever forget it.” Elia’s voice had a tone to it that Lewyn remembered from when she was young and happy, a tone he hadn’t heard since his niece had come to King’s Landing.

“I have to thank you for the invitation, Princess Elia,” the young man answered as it was expected. “It was an honor to eat with you and your daughter.” The man looked down at Rhaenys, ”Believe me when I tell you that it meant a lot to me too. You and your daughter are both lights in the darkness that sometimes falls over Westeros.” Lewyn again watched a blush creep upon his niece’s cheeks.

“Thank you Lord Eddard, I wish you a pleasant evening,” Elia said a bit too quickly, but the young Stark only bowed.

“The same to you, Princess,” he replied before he turned around to leave the chamber. As commanded, Arthur had been waiting outside, and he closed the door as soon as Eddard Stark joined him.

Again Lewyn thought that his friend’s second son was a very interesting young man — even though it also made him suspicious.

Varys I

Hall of Hundred Hearths

Watching everyone arrive in the hall had been quite interesting. Lord Whent’s wish had become reality: he was hosting the greatest tournament in the history of Westeros. He had already seen all the important houses, but also their important bannermen — and some of the not so important ones, for that matter. Hedge knights were still waiting outside to be allowed within the hall.

He had been here before everyone else — even before the servants had made the last preparations in the hall — but he had kept to a dark corner, just watching and searching for the best spots. Tonight he would have to trust all his little birds again. Mayhaps a few of the lords would be stupid enough to talk about their plans.

One of his own plans had already worked: the king in the end had listened to his whispered words and had decided that he should be here too. Even though it was a risk, it was one they needed to take. The people needed to see their king and how mad he was for the plans of he and his friend to work — though he would also have to take care of other people who were plotting and thinking that nobody knew.

This tourney would set their plan into motion. The prince was here and deep into his prophecies — just as he always was. It was good that the young man had been so easy to direct. Varys had been surprised at how eager the crown prince had been to believe the prophecies — to see truth in them even when no one else did. Varys hadn’t questioned if the prince was also mad: he simply hadn’t cared, as the man was only a pawn in his game: a pawn he may need to reach his final goals.

Pawns were abundant. So many of these great lords were nothing more than pawns in the great game they didn’t even know about — that not even the Mad King knew about. Aerys finding anything that led him to think Varys was acting against him from the shadows would be the worst possible outcome: wildfire would probably consume his flesh before he could even come up with a lie to make everything seem false.

A slight shiver ran down his spine when he thought about the smell of burned flesh and that it might be his flesh burning some day. The risk was there, no matter how much he tried to mitigate it. So far he had been lucky that he had always been able to point the king's attention at someone else. As long as the mad dragon had his eyes on someone else, Varys was safe.

As if on command one of his former chosen targets entered the hall with his family. Blonde hair, green eyes, and clothes that were dominated by the crimson color from the family's sigil, the golden lion also proudly embroidered on the chest in a roaring position. Tywin Lannister.

To this day Varys was puzzled over how the man had been able to escape his traps and maneuver himself out of every single situation that would have caused others to burn.

Perhaps the king’s madness hadn’t been strong enough, perhaps at that time the mad man had still remembered some of the friendship that he had once shared with the golden lion. Still, that shouldn’t be an issue any longer. Aerys had felt betrayed when Tywin had stepped down and simply left King’s Landing. For the king it had been an offense, but Tywin had been out of reach before he could do anything.

Yet now Tywin Lannister was within his reach again, and the tournament would give Varys enough time to plot against the man once more. Mayhaps he could set up something that would make the king display his madness during the greatest tournament in the history of Westeros.

Varys had to stop a smile that was threatening to come upon his face. The risk was high that the lion had already noticed him and was paying attention. It was time to point his interest at someone else — at least for tonight.

His eyes steadily moved through the crowd, taking note of who was seated with whom, who was engaged in talking with whom — but then his eyes looked into grey ones — grey and as cold as ice. Varys had met every great lord during his time as master of whisperers — everyone besides Rickard Stark.

The Warden of the North was tall and broad, his clothes made of fine fabric but still simple and plain — as if they were not only for social gatherings, but also something he could wear for his daily routine. The man’s face gave nothing away. There was no emotion to read, no trace of any feelings besides harsh coldness.

It was odd. For a moment Varys had thought the man had looked straight back into his eyes — as if the Lord of the North had sought eye contact with him — but just as suddenly the man had looked at the older man who was walking next to him and the two of them began talking quietly.

Jon Arryan and Rickard Stark, two wardens who had made no secret out of their mutual respect for each other as Lord Rickard had even sent his second son to foster with the old Lord of the Vale.

When he had first heard about the fostering, Varys had approached the king and Lord Tywin — back then the Lord Hand — to inform them about it as Lord Arryn was already the foster father of Robert Baratheon. At first Aerys had reacted as Varys had expected, but then Tywin had reminded the mad man of the war they had fought, and that Jon Arryn had become close with Rickard Stark and Steffon Baratheon back then. He had convinced the king that it was a friendship forged by loyalty to the crown, ready to give their own lives to defend the father of King Aerys, proving their loyalty.

It was as if something had changed within the king’s mind then. The man had suddenly talked quietly and gently — with none of his usual screaming — as he exchanged tales about the war with his Lord Hand.

Back then Varys had tried to find out if there might be some other reason for the king’s behavior, but he hadn’t been able to find any trace of interference, and so he had given up his search.

On Lord Rickard’s other side walked a woman with brown hair and grey eyes, the Lady of Winterfell who had her youngest son next to her. There was a girl next to the boy, and then a tall young man, probably the oldest son of Rickard Stark and heir of Winterfell — a boy with quite a reputation — but Varys really didn’t care about him. His eyes moved back to Lord Stark’s daughter.

The prophecy about Ice and Fire was one of Rhaegar’s favorites, as for whatever reason the man really believed it was about him — that he was to have three children that would save Westeros from eternal darkness. It was this obsession that he would use to finally destroy the last bond between the crown prince and his father.

And this girl — Lyanna Stark if he remembered correctly — would be his tool for it. He would make her the Ice that Rhaegar was looking for, putting the man on a path of trying to win her over as he would need her to fulfill the prophecy. If his plan worked out, then the prince would run away with Lady Lyanna, and this would cause an uproar at the betrothed of the Lord of the Stormlands running away with the man's own cousin.

Yes, it might cause some battles — maybe even a rebellion — but it was worth the risk if it would also get rid of both mad dragons and leave the youngest one to be raised by him and his friend. They would make Viserys the king that Westeros deserved — and a puppet who listened to them instead and did what they told him.

Varys was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt eyes on himself. The moment he looked in the direction he was looking into grey eyes again. The man was taller than the Lord of House Stark, yet he was still surely a Stark. On the man’s grey tunic was the crest of House Stark embroidered, but with a slight difference.

The direwolf on the man’s chest wasn’t snarling. It was quiet, and somehow that made the creature look even more deadly than the bared teeth on the clothes of the other Starks.

Vary’s swallowed. This was something he hadn’t expected, and a new development that not even his little birds had warned him about. Sure, he knew there was a second son who had fostered with Lord Arryn, but how could he have expected that a quiet and shy boy would suddenly look like every maiden’s dream, and yet somehow make Varys wary all the while?

Chapter Text

Tywin IV

Hall of Hundred Hearths

Seeing that eunuch as soon as he had entered the hall had given him all the information he had needed: the man would go nowhere without the king — and that was probably the only reason why nobody had taken care of the bald man.

Even though Tywin would never admit it publicly, Varys had also been a small part of the reason for his decision to leave Kings Landing. The spider had thought that Tywin hadn’t noticed how he had tried to set him up, hoping for his downfall. 

But Tywin had noticed the scheming, and that was what had saved him more than once.

As much as Tywin wanted to stare the man dead in the eye — to let him know that he was watching him and waiting for a mistake upon which he could capitalize — he knew that it would bring incalculable risk during the feast with the king in attendance.

That was another topic. People had really been surprised at the king’s attendance to the greatest tourney Westeros had ever seen. What message would it send if the king simply ignored such a feast and stayed in his palace? Even Tywin himself would have advised Aerys to go to this tournament.

Still, something else had happened that had caught Tywin’s interest even more than the king, and again — how could it be any different — Eddard Stark was the reason for it.

The young man’s clothes were plain but still elegant, just like his father’s. They seemed like something a lord could wear when talking to his bannermen, but suited for work at the same time.

In an odd way Eddard — to Tywin at least — seemed like the kind of man who would never shy away from getting work done himself instead of delegating it to others.

“Someone caught your interest, again,” his wife suddenly whispered into his ear, and Tywin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If anyone would notice it immediately it was Joanna, she had always had an eye for him and who his attention was on.

“I can’t blame you, he dressed up quite well again.” For a moment his wife was silent, and Tywin was sure she was looking at the young man. “In contrast to his older brother, he takes more after his father: his clothes are fine but made in a practical way.”

“Should I be worried about you eyeing him so much?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking his wife whose answer was a light laugh.

“You don’t need to be worried, I’m much too old for such a young and spirited man,” Joanna replied in a teasing tone, and Tywin smiled for a split second before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Tyrion,” he then said to his youngest son and looked at the boy who was slowly eating from his plate but immediately stopped to look back at him. “If you get tired you come to your mother or me, and we will leave together. Is that understood?”

“Yes father,” his youngest son answered with a nod and then looked towards the Stark table. “Would it be acceptable if I visit Lord Eddard and his family at their table later? His younger brother seems to be here too…” his son then suddenly said, and Tywin looked towards the table of the Starks again.

Somehow it was then that Tywin really understood just how much Tyrion wished to have a friend — someone who would accept him the way he was and not judge him for the burdens the Seven had placed upon him.

“I’m sure Lord Eddard would be delighted to introduce you to his brother, and I’m sure the Starks would also like to get to know you,” Tywin then slowly answered with a nod. “But I wish for you to finish your dinner first and wait until others start to move around.” The nod of his youngest son was enough for Tywin to let his eyes move through the hall once more.

Soon he found the Baratheons and was surprised to see that next to Robert Baratheon was a shorter and thinner version of the man. It must be the second son of Steffon — the boy was named Stannis if Tywin remembered correctly.

The last he had heard about the Baratheons, the two brothers hadn’t been close, but it seemed as if the bond between them was strengthening. The older brother listened intently to the younger one — and nodded sometimes — but besides that was quiet as he ate. After some moments he watched as Robert Baratheon nudged his brother and nodded towards a plate, reminding the younger man to eat before he opened his mouth.

The two Stormlanders conversed quietly, and it seemed as if the people around them had been selected to keep uninvited guests away. It was then that Tywin noticed Connington sitting at the far end of the table — the other Stormlanders keeping some distance from the man — who looked as if someone had slapped a brain into him.

Tywin would have laughed and said that it served the man right, but he was in public and had to keep his mask on, so he decided to just keep his eyes moving.

Oberyn Martell came into his view, a man who Tywin had heard more than one story about and who was the son of one of Joanna’s best friends. How Joanna and the princess of Dorne had developed such a friendship would forever be an unsolved riddle for him — all Joanna had said was that women had their own ways of becoming friends.

The prince had sons and daughters of multiple Dornish houses at his table, all probably hand picked so their loyalty was assured even if the worst should happen here.

This made his eyes move to the high table, moving along it until his eyes were on Elia Martell’s.

Elia Martell — wife of Rhaegar Targaryen — was sitting there and talking quietly with Ashara Dayne. Both women were wearing dresses in the Dornish style, light material and rather daringly cut, but still appropriate for such festivities. Both of them had also clearly decided that they would show their allegiance to their houses through the color of their dresses, as the princess’s dress was black with red details, and Lady Dayne’s was of a deep violet with silver and white details.

Ser Arthur Dayne was standing behind the princess and her friend, face like stone and without any trace of emotion. It seemed as if the man wouldn’t move the tiniest bit without being ordered to do so. Next to him stood Ser Oswell Whent, the brother of their host, who was positioned behind the crown prince and his mother before finally Aerys came into view with the white bull, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, towering behind him like an unmoving rock.

So the Kingsguard had been appointed to certain members of the family this time. Gerold had always been the favorite of Aerys, so it didn’t surprise Tywin that the man would be the king’s personal guard. Besides, if Tywin knew the Lord Commander at all, the man would care about no one besides the king if anything should happen.

The man took his vows so seriously that he probably didn’t even notice he consistently broke the most sacred vow of knighthood just to keep the vows of the Kingsguard.

“I don’t remember the last time you were so interested in people at a feast ” his wife suddenly piped up again and squeezed his hand. It made Tywin look towards her and that was good, as his eyes shouldn’t be too long on the high table: who knew what idea Aerys’s crazy mind would develop if it got the chance.

“Such a great feast rarely happens Joanna, it is nice to see people from all over Westeros here to enjoy Lord Whent’s hospitality,” he started as he noticed a young boy placing a fresh tankard of wine on their table. “That the King also blessed all of us with his presence makes me very happy, it is a strong display of his generosity.” It was better to not give one of Varys’s little birds anything to report.

“Yes, it is very generous that he took the long and straining trip to Harrenhal just to bless all of his loyal bannermen with his presence,” his wife immediately replied and made Tywin proud once more. Joanna had always been able to understand when he wanted her to just play along, and without question she always played along.

The boy was gone a moment later and Tywin squeezed his wife’s hand once more to show her the act could be ended.

“So we will have to watch out during the feast?” Joanna whispered to him.

“Yes,” Tywin whispered back to her as the first people seemed to have finished their dinner and were starting to talk a bit louder or move next to someone else.

Stannis I

Hall of Hundred Hearths

If someone had told Stannis a moon ago that his brother would ever change his ways again he would have told the person that they were mad. Robert had been spiraling downward ever since their parents had died. At first it had just been alcohol, but then whores had joined into the mix, and Stannis had lost all hope for his brother.

The tension between them had been horrible whenever they had met. It could be felt in the air that neither brother shared any respect for the other. Only Renly had still been holding them together at that point, the youngest of them being the last link that kept them from falling apart.

When during his last visit Robert had informed Stannis that he intended to return to the Vale to finish his fostering together with his chosen brother Eddard Stark, they had gone their separate ways in a fight. Stannis had been against it, he was sure that the Vale and Eddard Stark actually were a bad influence on Robert, as he couldn’t remember his brother had ever been like this while they had been children playing together.

Well, Stannis now had to admit that he had been selfish and stubborn back then. He had wanted to blame someone, and Eddard had been the easiest target as he had never met the other man and Robert clearly preferred him over Stannis — and for Stannis, that Robert preferred Eddard meant that the man must be the same as his brother: careless and selfish.

It had been that man who had actually led his brother back onto the right path. Robert had fallen into a hole when their parents had died, and he had been unable to do anything against it. It had seemed as if nothing would ever be able to pull his brother back out of the hole, and he himself had given up on Robert.

Yet somehow the second son of the Starks had been able to pull Robert out of it.

Now that he had seen the man for the first time, Stannis was sure that Eddard Stark would also be able to pull Robert out of a real hole — without the help of anyone else. People who didn’t know his brother would be surprised by such a statement — every normal man should be able to pull another normal man out of a hole after all — but Robert wasn’t a normal man. His older brother was taller than any normal man and was heavy with muscle. Stannis probably would fall to the ground if he tried to pull Robert up from it.

“You seem thoughtful?” Robert asked him quietly, and Stannis turned to his brother with a slow nod.

“Eddard Stark,” Stannis said and looked towards the entrance again where the Starks were just turning towards a table to sit down together with Jon Arryn.

“What about Ned?” His brother asked with a raised brow.

“He just came inside, and I noticed that he would quite literally be able to pull you out of a hole: something that isn’t easy, and something I wouldn’t have expected from how you described him the last time we met,” Stannis admitted and couldn’t stop a small smile from appearing on his face as his brother laughed and gave him a clap on his shoulder.

“I don’t think anyone would have ever thought that Ned would someday look like this. For a long time he looked pretty similar to you — maybe a bit more muscled — but I think that is just normal for a Northerner.” It surprised Stannis that Robert didn’t use the chance to quip some jape at his expense, but instead chose to say that it might just be the nature of Northerners to be more muscled than a Stormlander.

“His sister is also here,” he then said and nodded towards the brown haired young woman who was walking next to Robert’s best friend and talking with the tall man.

“She is,” his brother said with a nod, and Stannis raised a brow at his brother’s tone.

“Not as easy as you thought?” Stannis asked quietly, happy that Robert had listened to his advice about who should sit next to them and who would be loyal to them and not tell anyone about their conversations.

“She knows what kind of man I have been,” Robert said with a sigh. “I think it is no secret that I haven’t been a good man Stannis, not only because I was a drunken fool who whored around, but also how I acted towards you and Renly.” Finally his brother looked at him again with a small and sad smile. “I know that I failed you, but I will try to make up for it if you let me, brother,” his brother said in a gentle tone.

“We’re family,” Stannis answered after a moment of silence, “and I don’t think we’re broken beyond repair. Mother and father would want us to try and repair things, to become a strong family again.” With these words Stannis gave Robert a clap on his shoulder and his lips curled into a small smile.

Robert just laughed and returned the clap — gently so that it would not shake Stannis to his bones — and if he was honest he was grateful for that.

“So back to your betrothed,” Stannis then said and nodded towards the table where the Starks had sat down and from which the young woman was looking towards them. As soon as Robert had turned in the direction of the Stark table and seen her she raised her hand and gave a small innocent wave paired with a smile. Robert raised his hand slowly in return and waved back before the woman gave her attention back to her family and Robert turned back to him with surprise on his face.

“I didn’t think that I would see the day a woman surprised you,” Stannis said with an amused tone and reached for two mugs that he filled for them, pushing one in front of Robert.

“She is a special woman,” his brother retorted and had a smile on his face that even reached his eyes.

“It is good to see that you don’t regret your decision brother. I hope she will think the same of you once she gets to know the real Robert and not the drunken fool you were.” With that he raised his mug and gently toasted it against Robert’s before taking a sip.

“You shouldn’t forget to eat,” Robert said and nodded towards the still full plate in front of Stannis. He had been so invested in his thoughts and the conversation with Robert that he had completely forgotten about his food.

“True, now that I have the chance to eat it in good company and without a griffin that thinks himself far more important than he really is.” A small smirk came to Stannis lips when he remembered what Robert had done to the red haired man when he had met him in their camp.

“The griffin can be happy he still has his head on his shoulders,” Robert just growled out and looked down at the table where the man was sitting alone. “If you had told me earlier that he had even dared to challenge your word…” Stannis noticed his brother’s knuckles turn white again as his grip on the mug was getting stronger.

“I don’t think he will dare to do this again.” Stannis was slowly eating as he looked down the table too, a smile on his lips. The man was unharmed and hence couldn’t run to the crown prince or the king to demand justice. Robert had been intelligent enough to keep the beating he had handed the man to words only, and those words had hit the spot more than once — and caused some of the lords who were following the man to rethink who they should be loyal to.

“I hope everyone now knows that you’re the Lord of the Stormlands when I’m not home,” Robert growled once more, and Stannis was sure that he looked at some other lords that Stannis had voiced mistrust for. “You’re my brother, the heir of Storm’s End and the Stormlands as long as I have no trueborn son to take your place as my heir, and even then I hope you will be there to advise me and help me lead the Stormlands.” The words surprised Stannis so much that he nearly spit his food back onto his plate. Gulping it down was hard, but he somehow managed.

“If it is your wish for me to be your advisor then I will be your advisor Robert, you’re my older brother and I would never decline such a request from you,” Stannis responded while the talking in the hall got louder.

“Good, I will have to introduce you to Ned later. I’m sure you will be good friends, Ned also enjoys reading and is pretty intelligent,” Robert then said as the first men were rising and sitting down at other tables.

Chapter Text

Ashara VI

Hall of Hundred Hearths

She had seen Cersei and her family as soon as they had entered the great hall, taking their seat at a table where Tywin Lannister’s bannermen were already seated. Ashara knew the man well enough to be certain he trusted the men around him, and the man still probably wouldn’t even consider talking about anything that might be valuable information.

No matter what was going on between her and Cersei, Ashara couldn’t deny that she respected Tywin Lannister and how he handled things. The man really was an example of a lord — a lord who made it seem easy to survive in the pit of vipers that was King’s Landing.

Yet there was also a dark side of Tywin Lannister, a side of which glimpses had been visible in King’s Landing. Well, without it the man probably would never have served as long he had as Hand. Then he had quit on his own terms, leaving a fuming king who for whatever reason hadn’t moved against his former Lord Hand.

It had been surprising back then, that Tywin Lannister had simply resigned his position and left without any retribution from the king. It was as if the Mad King had decided to simply ignore what the Warden of the West had done.

While many people had whispered about it, Ashara had tried to make sense of it. The Lannisters were rich — perhaps even richer than the crown itself — and Tywin Lannister had single-handedly made the house great again over the years he had been its head. The man had done whatever was necessary to make sure the Lannisters would stay as a great and respected house — something the king surely also knew.

So did the Mad King mayhaps fear his former Hand? Was Tywin Lannister perhaps the only man Aerys respected so much he wouldn’t dare move against him without any great reason like a rebellion?

Rebellion… an intriguing notion. What would happen if it came to that? Who would stand with the crown, and who might support the rebels to finally be freed from the Targaryens — to once again be free from the people who came to Westeros and decided they knew better how to rule it than any of the old families who had been living here for ages?

Where would her family stand if that happened? They had always been loyal to the Martells — and Elia was now Prince Rhaegar’s wife, so the Martellws were bound to the Targaryens. Or would Elia’s family really give her up for freedom? Oberyn would never let that happen.

What would her family do? What would her father decide? Would he deem it the right time to end their loyalty to the Martells and fight for a new Westeros — a new Dorne? Or would he stand loyal with the Martells if they decided to aid the Targaryens in a rebellion?

For the first time in her life Ashara was sure that only her father knew the answer to her questions — and that not even her mother would be able to predict his decisions if such a situation should arise.

“If Lord Eddard sees you like this he will be worried,” a soft voice suddenly whispered next to her and pulled Ashara from her thoughts about her family. Elia had leaned over and her hand was resting over Ashara’s.

“My thoughts traveled to a dark place, thank you for pulling me out of it,” Ashara replied and smiled at her friend.

“It must have been very dark from the way you looked,” Elia stated, and Ashara could hear the concern in her best friend’s words.

“I ran into Cersei Lannister earlier,” Ashara replied, and suddenly a small smirk came to Elia’s face as her friend nodded.

“I see, what did the golden cub do to make your mood so dark?” her best friend asked before taking a sip of the Dornish Red that had been served to them.

“She told me that her family had also made an offer to the Starks,” Ashara said with a sigh.

“For the youngest? That seems a bit odd. There are quite a few name days between Cersei and Lord Eddard’s younger brother,” was her best friend's answer in an amused tone.

“Not for Ned’s brother,” Ashara replied and her tone got grumpier. “They made an offer for a betrothal between her and Ned. It seems as if Tywin Lannister wants the second son of the Starks for his daughter.” she sighed as Elia suddenly looked at her with wide eyes.

“The Lannisters made an offer to betroth Lord Eddard to Cersei?” the words where whispered but at the same moment hissed as if Elia was a snake — a snake ready to attack whoever threatened her.

“Yes,” Ashara shook her head with a sigh. “There is nothing we can do Elia,” she mumbled after a moment. “You made an offer on my behalf, and I will be forever grateful for that, but now it is the Starks’ decision which offer they will accept.” Ashara gently moved her hand atop of Elia’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“If they’re intelligent and have eyes they will know the answer after you and Lord Eddard have danced tonight,” her friend replied in a grumpy tone, and this time a light laugh escaped Ashara’s lips — which in turn made Elia smile.

“So you think my dancing skills will impress the Starks so much they will choose me just to make sure their son has the best dance partner possible?” Amusement was clear in Ashara’s voice as she looked at Elia with a raised brow.

“I don’t think your dancing skills will make them decide,” Elia answered with amusement.

“What is it then?” Ashara now asked intrigued and leaned a bit towards Elia.

“Lord Stark and his wife are good people, and I think they will know love when they see it,” her best friend finally whispered in a soft tone again. “They also seem like the sort of parents who would allow Eddard to marry the woman he loves if an offer was made on her behalf,” Elia then continued, and her eyes seemed to focus on a table. “The Starks are a special family. They will be good to you, and you will always be safe within their pack. I’m sure Lord Eddard will never let anyone hurt you — besides the pain of birth when you welcome the proof of your love into the world.” A small smile was on Elia’s elegant lips, and finally Ashara followed the eyes of her friend.

Elia was looking at the table where the Starks were sitting, and as if on command the father of Eddard looked up and into their direction. Ashara was sure he gave a small nod, but it was so small that she might have imagined it.

“They’re special, aren’t they?” Ashara asked and kept looking at the table too. Eddard was easy to spot. He was taller than the others and had his younger brother sitting next to him, while his sister sat opposite him, next to a rather short man. It seemed as if Ned, his sister, and the short man were engaged in some discussion while his younger brother sometimes also said something — and they even listened to the young boy’s words.

“They’re wolves — a pack of wolves,” Elia replied. “The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” her friend suddenly added, and Ashara felt her hand being squeezed this time.

“I think the dancing will begin soon.” More and more people were moving around, sitting down at different tables and starting to talk with friends or acquaintances they had made over the years.

“Lord Baratheon seems to be joining the Starks at their table now too,” Ashara then added and nodded towards the man who was moving towards the bench on which the short man sat with Ned’s sister. Next to the man was a thinner and not so tall version, someone Ashara hadn’t seen before.

“That must be his younger brother,” her best friend suddenly answered the unspoken question. “The last I heard they weren’t on good terms, but it is good to see that they seem to have solved their issues.” Ashara believed that Elia was happy to see the two brothers reunited, walking together towards the Stark table.

That was something that made Elia so special. She was happy for people and their families, where others would have hoped for the worst just to see the Baratheon family weakened and maybe crumble as brothers destroyed each other.

One man who surely would have liked that immediately came into Ashara’s mind.

“Might I have the first dance with you, Lady Ashara?” Just as he had come to her mind, the man suddenly stood in front of her, Jon Connington. The man was the Lord of Griffin’s Roost and a trusted friend of Rhaegar, even though Ashara was surethe man wanted more than just friendship from Rhaegar.

“It would be my pleasure, Lord Connington,” Ashara replied as she was taughtso long ago by her father and rose from her seat.

Howland II

Hall of Hundred Hearths

No matter how long his family had been loyal to the Starks, it would always be an honor for a Reed to be invited to sit with them during a feast. So it was an honor for Howland to sit opposite Ned and in between other loyal bannermen of House Stark.

There had been a time when his family had thought the Starks might forget them, that maybe the Maesters would be able to lead them on a path away from the old gods and the beliefs of the North. Rickard Stark had proven them wrong; he had renewed the trust and friendship between their houses.

What had surprised Howland more was that the Starks — besides Brandon — even drew him into their conversations and listened to his opinions and views. Sometimes Lord Rickard had even agreed with him, after much thought changing his own view on the matter if he was able to see more reason and sense in what Howland had said.

Something else that had surprised Howland was how often he and Ned actually agreed on a matter — and that Rickard’s second son had even voiced that he agreed with the bannerman instead of his lord father.

Still, even though they all enjoyed the feast, something was off. Howland simply had a feeling within him that something would happen tonight that meant nothing good at all.

He felt as if the reason for that was sitting at the same table as him, but who could it be? Surely none of the Starks would cause any unwanted attention on them, and the bannermen who chaired their table were selected by Rickard Stark himself and after much consideration.

“Could you maybe scoot a bit more to the right?” A deep voice suddenly asked from behind him and Howland blinked in surprise when he noticed how many people had already changed places in the hall, even some people from their table.

“Howland?” Ned asked him after a moment and Howland just nodded and scooted more to the right before he even looked up to see who was behind him.

“Did something happen?” The man who sat down between him and Lyanna Stark asked while looking at Howland. “You were more communicative the last time we met.” Now Howland recognized the man as Robert Baratheon, Ned’s best friend. “You didn’t run into some squires without manners again, did you?” the man suddenly asked him with worry in his eyes.

“No,” Howland quickly answered and shook his head. “I was just lost in my thoughts and then surprised by how much time had already passed and how many people had changed places,” he admitted with a small smile as another man came into his view.

“Would it be possible to make more room?” The man asked in a quiet tone and nodded towards the space that was still between Robert and Howland.

“You can also come over and sit next to me, Howland, then Stannis will have some more room,” Ned suddenly said, and Howland noticed how the other man looked surprised at Ned and then nodded.

“Aye, that sounds like a good plan,” Howland agreed with a smile and got up from his bench to take the short way around the table and sat down next to Ned. On the bench was clearly more space than on the one he had been sitting on before, and another advantage was that he could now see the dancefloor that was slowly getting crowded by people who wanted to share a dance.

The music was adjusting in volume to the noise that the people talking made, until it suddenly stopped and the people quieted down again, looking at the table that their host was sharing with the royal family.

Lord Whent was standing next to the king with his cup in hand and looked down at the people that had gathered on the dance floor.

“Since most of us have finished eating it is now time to let the dancing begin,” the man said as he raised his cup and then took a sip. “Dancers, take your positions for the traditional opening dance,” was all the man said before sitting down once more.

The musicians were quiet as the dancers shuffled around to take their positions as ordered. Howland just watched in silence until his eyes fell onto a man with red hair and a red beard.

“Does anyone know that man?” he asked the others who had been talking about the food that Lord Whent had served them all. The man really hadn’t looked at the price of it all, it was just the finest food in amounts that would feed whole armies during a war.

“Connington,” the man next to Robert — Ned had called him Stannis — was still sitting with his head turned towards the dance floor as he looked at the red-haired man. “Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin’s Roost,” he added just a moment later in a tone that clearly showed there was no respect or friendship between the two men.

“And probably the most arrogant man you will ever meet in your life,” Robert added in a low grumble as his brother finally turned around again.

“You two don’t like him?” Howland asked cautiously and looked from one brother to the other, both nodding.

“The man thinks he is the best friend of our cousin — the crown prince — and mayhaps that is true, but he acts as if that means every Stormlander should listen to him and follow him,” the younger Baratheon said in a quiet tone.

“He had the guts to disrespect Stannis’s commands while I was away in the Vale to finish my fostering. Stannis told me earlier today, and I had to teach the man a lesson about respect and what his standing within the Stormlands is,” Robert laid a hand on Stannis's shoulder. A small smile appeared on the younger man’s lips then.

Howland noticed that Ned had turned silent and was watching the dance floor intently. The pairs of dancers had started to move as soon as the music started playing again, and Howland didn’t see that anyone was making any missteps or failures.

Then Howland understood who Ned was watching. Jon Connington was dancing with a tall woman who had her long black hair done in fine curls. The violet dress twirled along with her hair whenever a quick spin was made, but even though a smile was on her lips it didn’t reach her eyes.

Howland — just like Ned — kept watching the pair. Howland noticed that the man seemed to talk all the time — not even letting Ashara Dayne say a single word during the dance — and so it wasn’t a surprise for him when the young woman moved away as soon as the music stopped playing.

It was then that he saw Barristan Selmy approaching the young lady, his white cloak billowing behind him with every step he made through the crowd of people. Howland was sure the man would be the next to dance with Lady Dayne, but then another white cloak suddenly appeared in front of the famous knight.

Quickly the younger man had closed the distance between himself and the lady, talking quietly with her for a moment, but both smiled and Howland was sure it was an honest smile.

Howland’s attention moved once more to Barristan Selmy, the older knight standing on the dance floor with a sad look on his face before he turned around to walk back towards the table of the royal family.

Then Howland realized who the younger King’s Guard was — Arthur Dayne, Lady Ashara’s brother.

The siblings shared a dance that was filled with whispered words, a conversation between both dancers this time.

Then it was time for a change of partner once more.

This time a dark-skinned man stepped towards Ashara, again it must be someone the lady had known for a long time already — Howland guessed it just from the way that the two were interacting with each other.

A moment later Howland wanted to scold himself for not realizing the man was Prince Oberyn Martell from Dorne, so it should be no surprise that the two knew each other.

“Why don’t you go over and ask her if you can have the next dance, Ned?” Lyanna suddenly said, and Howland looked at the young man who was sitting next to him.

“I don’t know Lya,” Ned said with a low sigh and raised his cup to his lips to take a sip. “Somehow I fear she might feel forced to dance with me,” he then mumbled so that only the people around him could hear it.

Lyanna and Robert both laughed at that, and even Howland had trouble suppressing a smile.

“I think Lady Dayne would be very happy if you asked her for a dance, and definitely would not feel forced,” Howland then said with a reassuring smile, giving Ned a pat on the shoulder while Lyanna, Robert, Stannis, and Benjen nodded in agreement.

“Well, if you all think so, then maybe I really should ask her,” Ned finally agreed and rose from the bench, but he was not the only Stark who got up to make his way to Lady Dayne.

Chapter Text

Eddard VIII

Hall of Hundred Hearths

The encouragement from his friends and siblings had given Ned the reassurance he needed to approach Ashara and ask her for a dance. Somehow he had the feeling that this could have been different, that in the past his siblings would have been amused while he would just be too shy, even if reassured by them.

Now that he thought about it he was surprised at himself. That wasn’t normal for him, but he knew Ashara. They had talked with each other and walked together. Maybe that had calmed his nerves a bit and also helped him to push down his shyness a bit.

The music was getting quieter until it stopped completely and the dancers stopped. Some bowed to their partners and moved back to their seats or to new dance partners, while others still stood together talking while they waited for the next song.

When Ned finally had made his way through the crowd he noticed that someone else had reached Ashara before him. His first thought was to simply turn around and leave Ashara alone with her new dance partner, but something within him stopped him from doing so.

It was then that Ned noticed who was standing there talking to Ashara, and somehow the realization just made him quicken his pace so that he soon appeared next to his older brother.

“Lady Ashara, Brandon,” he said with a slight bow towards Ashara and a nod to his brother.

“Lord Eddard,” Ashara smiled at him and gave a small bow in return, and somehow Ned felt his heart beating a bit faster when her eyes looked into his and the smile on her face made her eyes shine like stars in the night.

“Ah, Ned,” Brandon said immediately in a tone much too cheery for Ned’s liking. Even though they were brothers, they had never had the kind of sibling relationship that Ned had with Lya and Ben. “I was just talking with Lady Ashara and told her that you were too shy to ask her for a dance.” There it was; that was the real reason Brandon was there.

“If you would have been a bit more patient, you would have known that I came here to ask Lady Ashara myself,” even though Ned’s voice was calm, he felt as if someone had just punched him in his stomach. Why did Brandon always feel the need to embarrass him? What had he done wrong?

“As I just told your brother, I would love to dance with you Lord Eddard,” Ashara then said and gently took his hand into hers, surprising Ned completely with the gesture. “I’m sure your brother will excuse us now, the music should start up again soon.” He felt the gentle pull on his hand and nodded before following her to the dance floor, leaving Brandon standing where he was without another word.

When they reached the middle of the dance floor Ashara stopped and smiled at him once more, still holding his hand in hers as she moved a bit closer to him.

“Your brother is an arrogant toerag,” she whispered gently — quietly enough that only he could hear — as their bodies were nearly touching. “I mean, I was happy when he told me you wanted to dance with me, but I don’t understand why he thought it necessary to tell me you were too shy to ask, especially when you came to ask me yourself.” Ashara’s gentle voice suddenly had a hissing sound to it, a sound that showed that she hadn’t liked what Brandon had just done.

“We never had the best relationship,” Ned answered with a sigh and changed the position of their hands so that he was holding her hand instead of her holding his. “Brandon… I think he always felt the need to make certain I know he is the firstborn, that he is above me and I’m the spare.”

“It seems as if your brother is insecure,” the raven haired woman opposite him suddenly said and moved a bit closer again. “I mean, you’re an impressive man,” her other hand was suddenly on his chest, “and I could understand if a man was worried about you stealing his lady,” the Dornish woman whispered as she moved even closer and kept looking into his eyes.

Ned looked at Ashara in confusion then. Why should any man be worried about Ned stealing his lady? He was just Ned: a second born son who would at best get a small keep from his father to rebuild and start a new cadet branch of House Stark to strengthen their claim on the North once more.

“You might not see it, but others see what a great man you are.” He felt her touch as her hand moved down his chest, her body touching his for a second. “But now it is time to get into position,” and with those words she already was a step away from him, another one quickly following while she smiled at him.

Ned had to shake himself out of his stupor but immediately returned her smile as he moved to get into position himself. The dance had been announced after the last one ended, so everyone knew which position to take and there would be no chaos on the dance floor.

Finally the music started to play, and the people started to move. The dance started with distance between the partners. At first it looked as if one wanted to get away from the other, but somehow they always ended up opposite each other, and closer together. When both partners finally stood opposite each other, the woman tried to avoid her male partner one last time, but this time the man took hold of her waist, not letting her avoid him and instead moving in a circle. This was the moment the dance really started. Finally the pairs started to use the complete dancefloor, spinning and twirling over it while moving to the rhythm of the music.

“I didn’t expect that,” Ashara said, but Ned was sure that only he could hear her on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry if my dance skills are not up to par with the skills of your former dance partners.” Even though Jon had made sure he and Robert didn’t miss dance lessons, Ned still felt as if he wasn’t a good dancer: dancing simply wasn’t one of his talents in his opinion.

“Oh no, Ned, it is quite the opposite,” came Ashara’s immediate answer, and he looked at her questioningly. “People always say that you Northerners are brutes, but here I am and you’re the best and most skilled dance partner I’ve had all night.” Her purple eyes still were shining like stars when Ned looked into them, laughing while a smile was on her beautiful face.

“I… Jon made sure I didn’t miss dance lessons.” It may have been a very stupid explanation, but it was the only thing that came to Ned’s mind. The compliment from Ashara had surprised him. If she was to be believed, it had truly been the opposite of what he had been expecting, but it felt good to know that she enjoyed dancing with him.

Ashara just smiled at him and moved a bit closer after the next spin, and somehow Ned felt comfortable holding her closer to him, returning her smile as she continued to smile at him.

“I think the skill of your dance partner is also very important, and you’re clearly a perfect dancer Ashara.” Ned didn’t know where that compliment came from, but it simply slipped out, and Ashara’s now even bigger smile made him sure she had actually liked it.

Then Ashara suddenly shifted her dance position, her hands moving along his sides and her steps getting a bit shorter but quicker. Ned knew that there was the normal version of this dance — the one most people preferred — and an advanced version, which seemed to be the one Ashara now wanted.

Ned now definitely had to concentrate more on his steps, not wanting to miss one and accidentally step on Ashara’s toes. In this version he also had to lift her up, spin around with her, and twirl her, but they also had to dance even closer to each other, their bodies touching nearly all the time.

Yet as soon as he saw the brilliant smile on her face Ned forgot just how hard this advanced version was and flowed with the music, until it suddenly stopped and they stood in the center of the dancefloor, smiling at each other.

“That was wonderful Ned,” Ashara whispered as her body was still pressed against his, and all he could was nod while some of the people in the hall applauded and others whistled. For once, Ned didn’t care if it was meant for someone else. All he cared about was the woman who was still pressed against him and smiling up at him.

Brandon II

Hall of Hundred Hearths

It had surprised Brandon when Lady Ashara had told him she would love to dance with Ned. Somehow Brandon had thought the woman might have been more reluctant about it, maybe not even wanting to dance with his little brother as she had no interest in Ned.

It really wouldn’t have surprised him if she had no interest in his brother. She could have other men besides Ned — more important and powerful men than his brother would ever be. Ned was just a second son, and that was something he should remember. Women like Ashara Dayne were not for second son’s: they were for firstborn sons — for heirs like him.

For Brandon it was clear that the words of happiness must have been a lie and that the excited reaction must have been an act. In his mind Ashara must be playing as if she wasn’t interested in him, playing it so he saw a challenge in gaining her interest.

Ashara Dayne was only using his younger brother to get him. That is the only way her behavior could make any sense to Brandon. What woman would want Ned if he was in close proximity? Why would a woman want a shy wolf instead of a wild wolf?

Well, he would give Ashara what she wanted, and he would give it to her tonight, as soon as the dance between her and Ned was over.

With this thought his eyes finally were on Ned and Ashara again, and his lips formed into a smirk as he shook his head. It seemed as if his younger brother didn’t know that dance and had no rhythm at all. The pair was moving faster than all the other dancers, having lifts and twirls in the dance where the others had only spins, and everyone watched them. How nice it would be when the people later started talking about how Ned messed up the dance and the poor Lady Dayne had to endure it.

Brandon’s eyes sometimes moved to other ladies who were dancing, shooting them a wink paired with a smile, and he enjoyed it when some of them blushed and immediately looked shyly away. Harrenhal truly would be great for him.

When the music finally stopped his eyes moved back to Ned and Ashara. The two were standing in the center of the dancefloor, and he saw the silly smile on Ned’s face. Did his little brother really think he had a chance, that a woman like Ashara Dayne would really care about him? It was hard for Brandon to hold back a laugh at that thought.

He shot a wink at another woman who was just thanking her dance partner, and then he moved towards the woman who would be his conquest tonight. He would make sure Ned knew it, too, so he didn’t forget his place.

“Lady Ashara,” he said, loudly enough for the pair and other dancers around him to hear. “Thank you for granting my brother the honor of dancing with him,” he started out as Ned finally let go of the woman and moved next to her.

“It was my honor to dance with Lord Eddard,” Ashara answered and immediately looked at his brother again, a smile on her face when Ned looked back at her. The woman truly knew how to act and how to make a fool like Ned fall for her within a single dance.

“I hope my brother didn’t step on your toes when he mixed up the dance with some other one? I had anticipated that he might have no rhythm, but not that he wouldn’t know this standard dance.” A laugh left Brandon’s lips, and he knew he had spoken loudly enough for others to hear.

Still, where Brandon had expected laughter and giggles to follow his words, he could only hear the mumbles of people quietly talking around them. Mayhaps that was only because they feared Rickard Stark’s reaction if they laughed at one of his children?

“What are you talking about, Lord Brandon?” Lady Ashara suddenly asked him with a confused look upon her face.

“You don’t have to act nice just because Ned is my younger brother, Lady Ashara,” Brandon immediately answered and looked at the woman with a raised brow. “It was clear to see that you moved faster than all the other dancers and made figures they didn’t. Ned clearly led you through a different dance because he mixed them up.”

“Did you have dance lessons?” The woman now asked him with raised brows.

“Dancing comes naturally to me, unlike my brother, so I didn’t need them,” Brandon answered with a smirk on his lips. “And that is why I think Ned should now go back to his place and let me dance with you, so you have at least one Stark as a dance partner who can actually dance.”

“I think you should have taken those dance lessons, Lord Brandon,” the woman answered with a shake of her head. “Your brother and I danced the more complicated version of this dance. It isn’t common to do this as a lone pair on the dancefloor, but your brother was so good during the normal version that I simply changed to it — and your brother was the only man I have ever met who actually did this version perfectly and without any failures.” It surprised Brandon that Ashara was answering just as loudly as he had spoken to her, and she had defended Ned and even praised him while everyone must know she was lying.

“The young lady is right. I haven’t seen anyone dance this version with such perfection in a very long time.” Brandon turned in the direction of the voice and noticed that it was Lord Manderly who had risen from the seat next to Brandon’s father. Oddly enough, his father was just sitting there in silence and not showing Lord Manderly his place and demanding respect for his heir.

The mumbling in the hall got louder, but Brandon simply ignored it as he turned back to his brother and Lady Ashara.

“Well, I didn’t know this dance, and mayhaps my little brother is actually a decent dancer.” An annoyed sigh followed the words and he made a step towards Lady Ashara. “Still, you can drop your act now, Lady Ashara. I know you only used Ned to get my attention, and now you have it.” With these words the smirk was back on his face, and he looked directly into purple eyes that suddenly seemed ablaze — so he was right, Ashara Dayne wanted the wild wolf and couldn’t wait to get him now.

“Did you just say that I used your brother, Lord Brandon?!” The attention in the hall was completely on them as Ashara made a step towards Brandon, but he didn’t care.

“Oh, stop the act now!” With those words he made a step towards the woman. “As if a woman like you would want a quiet wolf who is so shy he wouldn’t even ask you for a dance himself!” He took another step and got closer to the woman whose eyes were still ablaze and seemed to have gotten a darker shade of purple. “Just admit that you want me — that you need a wolf who is able to handle your Dornish temper, and who is just as wild as you are and makes you scream his name in be—”

Brandon wasn’t able to finish his sentence as all of a sudden a fist connected with his nose. The punch was delivered with so much strength and force that he was stumbling backwards, lost his footing, and fell to the ground.

His hand was still on his nose, and he felt a warm liquid quickly pooling in it before running down it and dripping onto the ground. His nose was bleeding from the punch, and the pain seemed to get worse with every passing moment.

When Branon looked up he realized that the blow hadn’t come from Ashara Dayne. No, the Lady looked just as shocked as him while Ned stood in front of her and still had his hand balled into a fist.

“I don’t know what I ever did to you that you treat me the way you do,” his brother said in a cold tone as he looked down at him with grey eyes that were cold and hard like steel. “But you will never talk like that to Ashara or any of my friends.” He saw how Ned took Ashara’s hand and simply left the hall, the woman following him without complaint.

“And you will come with me,” Brandon suddenly heard a deep voice from behind him. “Now!” With that he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and pulled him up. “Not another word, we will talk about this at the camp,” was all his father said before leaving with him, the grip on Brandon’s shoulder vise-like.

Chapter Text

Rickard V

Grounds of Harrenhall, Stark Camp

Even though he could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him and his son, he had chosen to walk at a steady pace, not rushing out of the hall as if he wanted to hide from the shame his son had just brought over the Stark name.

It seemed as if word of the scene had spread quickly, as even the guards and the people who were standing outside were looking at them as they passed, and Rickard felt a new level of annoyance.

“Fa—” Brandon started, and Rickard squeezed his shoulder so hard he winced and shut his mouth again.

“You won’t talk until I ask you something or tell you to talk,” he whispered softly enough only Brandon could hear while leading him out onto the grounds of Harrenhal and towards the Stark Camp.

Torches were soon the only source of light on their way back, merchants and servants — as well as guards and squires together with lesser knights — were sitting together at fires in the camps. They were making their own kind of feast: drinking, singing and dancing without having to worry that some of their children would embarrass their houses.

Surprise was visible on the faces of the first Stark guards they passed, but the men were intelligent enough to quickly hide it, and they just nodded in greeting and resumed their conversations while checking that nobody was causing trouble in the Northern camp.

At least Brandon had — for once — listened and kept silent until they reached the tent. Rickard had thought his oldest son might have tried to talk with guards and other people in the camp as if nothing had happened — just to try to get him to maybe let it slip once more.

When they were finally inside Rickard’s tent, he immediately went to his desk, pulling out one chair and pushing his oldest son down onto it. It was only when Brandon was finally seated in the chair that he let go of his son’s shoulder and walked to his own.

Rickard had hoped he would have been able to think just a bit longer in silence, to calm himself down a bit more before talking with Brandon, but it seemed as if his son still hadn’t understood him.

“What is this about?” Brandon asked in a tone that was close to demanding an answer, something that didn’t help Rickard’s mood at all. “I did nothing wrong, I just showed Ned what a woman Ashara Dayne is. It’s better he knows it before falling in love with her.”

“You can’t be quiet until you’re told to speak, can you?” Rickard asked with a sigh and shook his head. “But at the moment it would be the best for you if you were just silent and waited for me to speak.”

“But fath—” Rickard slammed his hand down onto the table before Brandon could even finish the word.

“Enough Brandon!” He bellowed in his deep voice, for once not able to keep his voice in a quiet tone. “You will sit there and listen, if I hear just one more word from you…” Rickard didn’t think it would be necessary to finish his sentence — that Brandon would know when he was close to completely crossing the line.

“What then? I’m younger and clearly stronger than you, father, so stop the empty threats,” Brandon said with a roll of his eyes.

It was at that moment that something in Rickard snapped. His chair was sent flying to the ground as he shot up from it, and his hand gripped Brandon’s tunic. Without any thought he pulled his son up from the chair and over the desk so that only an inch was between their faces.

“You think you’re stronger than me? You think you can talk back to me because you’re younger?” Rickard growled out, feeling his blood rushing through his veins in a moment of unbelievable rage.

At first Brandon looked back at him with hard eyes, but Rickard saw the hardness slowly turn into fear. He had made sure his children never got to see him when he couldn’t control his anger, but this time it was different. Brandon was now a man grown and his heir. He had to learn that there were limits for everyone and everything, and Brandon had exceeded multiple limits today.

“What did Ned ever do to you that you would behave like that? Since the day he was born, Ned has tried to get closer to you — to build a brotherly relationship of trust and love — but you always kicked him as if he was the dirt under your boots,” Rickard kept thundering out while his knuckles turned white from the force he used to hold Brandon in place.

“But he is the second born, just the spa—” Brandon once more didn’t get to finish the sentence. One of Rickard’s hands let go of Brandon’s tunic only to deliver a slap that made Brandon’s head snap to the other side before it seemed as if his son’s legs would give in and Brandon would collapse — but Rickard was strong enough to keep his son up with just one hand.

“If I ever hear you refer to Ned as second born or spare again,” Rickard growled out and pulled Brandon even closer, forcing his son to look him in his eyes as soon as Brandon was able to focus on him again, “then this slap will seem like a joke.” With those words he pushed Brandon towards the chair, so his son could sink down into it.

“Since you were born I have turned a blind eye to your behavior. I thought you would grow out of the ignorance and arrogance you displayed day after day, but instead of becoming a Stark…” Rickard only shook his head as he walked around the desk and stood in front of Brandon.

“Wolf blood,” Brandon said, and Rickard laughed.

“Wolf blood? If you had Wolf blood inside you, you would know that family — a pack — is the most important thing a wolf has. Wolves hunt as a pack, Brandon — not alone. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” Rickard slowly squatted down, looking Brandon in the eyes.

“You know Brandon,” he started with a sigh. “I do not just blame you. I also blame myself for the man you have become.” It was hard to admit it, but Rickard knew it was true. He could have had more influence if he had been harder on Brandon — if he wouldn’t have always looked the other way or let him get away with a slap on the wrist.

“I think it would be unfair to act as if it was all your fault, and so I want to offer you one last chance.” Rickard looked at the ground for a moment before he looked at Brandon. “You will have to grow up, become a good man and a worthy heir. I want you to become a Stark, to understand the meaning of being a Stark.” Rickard sighed once more.

“If you won’t grow up, if you continue being the man that you are at the moment…” Rickard took a deep breath. “I can’t let you become Lord Paramount if you’re not a worthy heir. One of your brothers will take your position as my heir if you’re unable to become a Stark who is worthy of the position.” With that Rickard stood up again and moved behind his desk.

“Now go to your tent and leave me alone. I don’t wish to hear anymore complaints about you tonight,” he said in his normal quiet and calm tone, and it seemed as if Brandon had at least understood that it would only bring more trouble if he didn’t obey. He got up and walked towards the exit of the tent.

“Brandon,” Rickard said shortly before his son reached the exit. “I will also talk with Ned as soon as I find him, don’t think that I’m okay with him punching you in front of all those people — even though you deserved it for offending Lady Ashara. Her father is actually a very good friend of mine, and he won’t be happy if he hears about that.” Brandon just turned once more towards the exit and left Rickard alone.

It only then occurred to Rickard that besides Ned he should also try to have a talk with Arthur and Ashara Dayne as soon as possible. It wouldn’t help if they reported Brandon’s behavior to Uther. Rickard was truly worried it might even damage the friendship he had with Uther, a man who saved his life during the war.

With a sigh he lifted his chair from the ground and sat down in it. Somehow it felt as if the gods didn't want him to have a calm moment at Harrenhal.

Tywin V

Hall of Hundred Hearths

What had just transpired within the hall surely had been an interesting development. Tywin had heard about the hotheadedness of Rickard’s oldest son, but to offend Ashara Dayne in the middle of the hall, and worse, in front of everyone? He hadn’t thought such stupidity was even possible.

No, the way Eddard had reacted to the offense also wasn’t correct in the sense of formality, but it was understandable that the man wanted to protect Lady Ashara — especially if he had grown to like the woman.

On the other hand, Eddard’s outburst had assured Tywin once more that he had made the right choice during the meeting of the Old Council. Eddard Stark had been called a shy and quiet boy. There was no trace of that boy in the young man who had just stood up to his older brother to protect a lady.

Tywin was sure Rickard would have taken both Brandon and Eddard with him if the latter hadn’t simply taken Lady Ashara’s hand and left the hall together with her, a sign that there must be something between the two.

Even though Tywin wanted to have the young man fall madly for his Cersei — he was somewhat happy to know that Lady Ashara must like Eddard, as this might guarantee them her loyalty even should her family side with the Martells, who would probably side with the Targaryens as they had Princess Elia.

For Tywin it was clear why Aerys had wanted a Dornish wife for his son after he wasn’t able to find a Valyrian one. Rhaegar’s wife was nothing but a hostage for the mad man, a source of control over Dorne as the Martells would never risk the well being of Princess Elia.

Aerys had surprised Tywin with that move. The man had already been mad — and Tywin had hoped he might be able to talk him into betrothing Rhaegar to Cersei — but somewhere in the midst of all that madness, Aerys had still been lucid enough to realize Dorne was the kingdom most likely to rebel against him and his family, and so he had needed something to make sure they wouldn’t do that.

Still, that didn’t matter now. What mattered was how Brandon Stark's little act might impact the plan they had made in the Old Council. Rickard’s oldest son had certainly proven his talent for getting all the attention upon him, talking loudly enough for everyone in the hall to hear him practically call Lady Ashara a Dornish whore who had just wanted to get the dick of an heir from an important family.

If it had been Cersei in Ashara’s place, Tywin would have ensured that Brandon Stark would never again dare to even think such words about his precious daughter.

That was another thing Brandon Stark must not have thought about during his little stunt. Uther Dayne and Rickard Stark had become friends during the war, and Tywin had thus far been sure the Daynes would try to hold the Martells back for a bit before accepting that they supported the Targaryens during a rebellion, but now?

Now it was a question if Uther Dayne would still care about his friendship with Rickard Stark enough to try anything to slow down the Dornish support of the Targaryens.

One thing was certain: Tywin was happy he wasn't in Rickard’s position at the moment. Not only would he have to talk with both of his sons, but he would also have to talk with Lady Ashara and her brother — a brother who was talking with the crown prince and Princess Elia at the head table while it seemed as if Aerys was still amused by the spectacle Brandon Stark had given him.

“I can’t believe he did that,” his wife suddenly whispered next to him and shook her head. “It was disrespectful towards her and his brother. Somehow I understand why Eddard snapped,” his wife sighed, and Tywin felt her hand move to grip his.

“Rickard was furious. Even though he looked calm I’m sure his blood was boiling,” Tywin mumbled back. “As much as I can understand why Eddard snapped, it wasn’t right to showcase such a rift publicly — especially in front of nearly all the important houses of Westeros.” He gently squeezed his wife’s hand.

“It might not have been right, but it is still good to see that he protected the lady rather than just standing there and letting his brother do as he wished.” Joanna returned the gentle squeeze, and Tywin was sure they both agreed it was a good sign — a sign that their Cersei would also be safe and protected with the man that they had chosen for her.

“I think I would have done the same in Eddard’s place,” Jaime suddenly quipped beside Joanna, and Tywin looked at his son with a raised brow. “What? It isn’t right to talk like that to a lady in front of all these people, and a knight has to defend the ones who can’t defend themselves,” Jaime continued with a shrug and surprised him even more.

Tywin knew Jaime had always wanted to become a knight, but that he had taken the vow to his heart before he was even knighted? It was an interesting development, and made Tywin a bit proud. The lessons with the maester had never been easy for Jaime, but it seemed as if the prospect of becoming a knight had motivated his son to concentrate more during the lessons and study even after they were over.

“His brother got what he deserved,” Cersei suddenly huffed, and surprised not only Tywin with that. It was no secret within their family that Cersei and Ashara weren’t anywhere close to being friends, but to now hear Cersei say that Brandon deserved it, it seemed the day was full of surprises for Tywin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his daughter sighed. “Ashara and I aren’t friends, but I do respect her, and what Ned’s brother said was nothing more than a lie.” Then his daughter suddenly stood up and gave a quick bow before rushing towards the exit of the hall.

Tywin wanted to stand up and follow his daughter — worried that she might do something stupid — but he was pulled back down by his hand.

“Don’t,” Joanna just whispered and shook her head while she looked at him. “I think she is about to do something very important, and I’m happy she doesn’t need any help from me to learn the difference between right and wrong.” Joanna gave him one of her smiles, and Tywin couldn’t argue with her anymore.

“Do you still wish to go over to the Starks and meet Eddard’s younger brother, Tyrion?” His wife suddenly asked their youngest son.

“I… do you think that would be okay?” The boy asked a bit shyly, but was clearly excited about the idea.

“I don’t think Lady Lyarra would be angry about some company. Lord Robert and his betrothed are just getting up from the table with two others, so there is enough space.” Suddenly his wife’s hand was gone, and Joanna had risen from her seat to walk over to the Stark table.

“Are you okay father?” Jaime suddenly asked him, and Tywin blinked.

Was he okay? Tywin wasn’t sure. He hadn’t expected that something like this might happen. All he could do was hope the people would only see it as a display of jealousy and one of affection, Eddard wanting to defend the lady who had danced with him from his jealous older brother.

“I’m okay Jaime, don’t worry,” he replied and raised his cup of wine to take a sip from it.

Slowly the hall had also calmed down and new pairs of dancers had gathered just before the music started once again. Joanna had already reached the Stark table and was sitting next to Lady Lyarra, whom she was quietly talking with while Tyrion and the youngest Stark were reading the book Tyrion had brought with him.

How his youngest son managed to read a book during a feast would forever be a mystery for Tywin. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the text while music was playing and people talking, but Tyrion… it seemed as if his youngest could just lock everything around him out of his head.

“Ser Arthur is leaving the hall,” Jaime suddenly said with excitement in his voice, and Tywin wanted to slap himself for not understanding earlier that Ashara’s brother had requested to leave the feast in order to talk with his sister and make sure she was okay.

“Jaime, I want you to go and follow Ser Arthur,” Tywin whispered into Jaime’s ear after leaning over. “Make sure your sister doesn’t do anything stupid: you know how she can be,” he added with a low sigh.

“Really?” Jaime asked with a bit too much excitement in his voice for Tywin’s liking, but before he even could ask his son if he had understood everything, the boy was on his way out of the hall, leaving Tywin alone at the table with his bannermen.

With a sigh he raised his cup once more and took a sip from it. This tourney truly became more and more eventful as it went on.

Chapter Text

Cersei V

Grounds of Harrenhal

Cersei had decided on the spur of the moment to get up from the bench and head out of the hall to follow Ned and Ashara. She ordinarily would never have done that without asking her father first — especially during a feast.

For Cersei it was clear that her father would scold her later, even though he had agreed Ned had done the right thing — at least from a certain point of view. He wouldn’t be pleased that Cersei now might also have brought the attention of the scandal onto their house.

During all the lessons her father had taught her and Jaime together, he had told them to never let their mask slip during a feast. As cheery and happy as feasts seemed to be, most lords also used them to search for weaknesses they could use for their own benefits.

Cersei sighed. It was safe to assume Ned would also have to answer to his father later. Yes, he had defended a lady’s honor, but he should have used words instead of punching his brother so hard he was knocked onto his ass.

Cersei couldn’t suppress a small smirk at the thought. Ned had shown a different side of himself in that moment, and she had to admit she enjoyed knowing he could be this protective. Most men probably wouldn’t have defended a lady against their older brothers.

However — as Cersei had learned rather quickly — Ned wasn’t just any man.

It was after she had already walked out of the keep that Cersei realized she didn’t even know where Ned and Ashara had gone. The two had left so quickly and without stopping: they could be anywhere on the grounds of Harrenhal.

Still, she couldn’t imagine that Ned might have left onto the grounds. He would probably have chosen a place where people would see them so there couldn’t be any rumors of impropriety between him and Ashara afterwards. That was the kind of man that Ned was: he cared about others.

Cersei sighed as she shook her head and looked around. Ned and Ashara could be anywhere. There were people all around. Some of them were talking while others were just sitting at a fire or leaning against a wall to calm down from the trouble inside. Occasionally, she also saw couples kissing passionately in corners they thought to be dark enough to hide them.

Cersei couldn’t care less about these people. It annoyed her that she wasn’t able to spot Ned directly. It should be easy with how tall he was, but wherever she looked she didn’t see any trace of him.

“Cersei?” An easily recognizable voice suddenly asked from behind her. “Are you looking for someone?”

“What do you think?” She asked and turned around with her arms crossed before her chest, looking up at the brown haired man who looked at her with grey eyes that reminded her of the fog she had sometimes seen in the early hours of the morning.

“It seemed so, but I wasn’t sure,” the young man said and shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I wasn’t sure if anything else happened after I left the hall with Ashara.”

“And you still can’t guess who I might be looking for?” Cersei asked with a raised brow and shook her head when the young man just shrugged. “Sometimes I am unsure whether you really don’t know or only act as if you don’t know,” she mumbled before simply stepping forward to hug him.

She felt his muscles tense, hardening against her while he took a deep breath. For a moment he stood as if he was carved out of stone before he slowly returned the hug, his hands unsure and on the small of her back to not be too close to anywhere inappropriate.

“Are you all right?” He asked after a moment, and Cersei finally moved away again, only to look up at him as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You know I should be asking you that?” She then asked him in an amused tone. “I mean, you just punched your older brother in front of all the important lords and ladies of Westeros, even the King.” Cersei tried to say it in a nonchalant tone, as if it was nothing big — even though everyone would probably still be talking about it tomorrow.

As if on command, Ned’s muscles tensed on the mention of what had just transpired in the hall between him and his brother. Cersei didn’t like to see him on edge like this. She gently moved her hand a bit up the front of his tunic — closer to his heart — and she was sure she could feel it beating hard and fast.

“Ned,” she softly whispered and kept looking up at him, her green eyes looking into his grey ones that suddenly seemed to be as cold and hard as steel instead of being like the fog in the early hours of the morning. “What your brother said—”

“What about it?” Another voice Cersei knew all too well suddenly asked, and the woman finally stepped forward from behind Ned.

“Ashara,” she said a bit surprised and moved her hands away from Ned as she looked at the black haired woman. “I…” Cersei took a deep breath and shook her head. “I know we are not friends at all, but I know the things Ned’s brother said were nothing more than stupid lies.”

Seeing the shock on Ashara’s face felt a bit like a reward for Cersei. It was clear Ashara had expected she would try to make Ned believe the words solely to gain an advantage over her — and if Cersei was honest with herself, that was exactly what she would have done before meeting Ned.

“Ned,” she said as she looked at him once more. “Even though Ashara and I aren’t friends, I know her well enough to be sure the things your brother said were lies.” With that she once more looked at Ashara and then back at Ned. “What you did… I think it was the right thing to do. Your brother overstepped all the boundaries there are, and he would not have stopped if you had not put an end to it.”

After a moment Cersei reached for Ned’s hand and lifted it, taking a look at his knuckles. “At least you didn’t hurt yourself on your brother’s thick skull,” she mumbled as she looked up at Ned. The words brought a small smile to his lips, and she could also hear a light chuckle coming from Ashara.

“What happened to Brandon after I left?” Ned suddenly asked her.

“Your father led him out of the hall and I think back to your camp. I actually thought he might have seen you on his way out and also taken you with him,” she admitted in a quiet tone once more.

“Ned pulled me around the corner of the hall. One of the guards was standing there, but he didn’t say anything so I could calm down a bit without anyone seeing it,” Ashara suddenly said, and somehow Cersei felt as if  the other woman normally wouldn’t have mentioned that a guard was also there.

“I should leave now,” the young man suddenly said with a sigh. “Father will wish to speak with me, and I know he won’t be happy about what happened, so I should not keep him waiting too long.” With these words Ned bowed towards her and Ashara. “I wish you both a good night. I will see you tomorrow if you wish.” With that he was gone, disappearing into the darkness of the night broken only by the light the torches spent.

Now it was only her and Ashara standing opposite each other, and Cersei was sure she looked just as surprised as Ashara at that moment.

“Thank you,” the other woman finally broke the silence. “Most women would not have done what you just did — especially with the situation we are in.” both women sighed simultaneously.

“Do you think he even notices that we’re interested in him?” Cersei asked with a sigh.

“I don’t think so. He seems to think it impossible any woman could have an interest in him,” Ashara replied. Both women looked at each other again, and this time Cersei was sure they had the same look of shock on their faces. Neither of them must have thought about what they were saying, and now they were in this situation.

“Hey! Do you know where Ned is?” A female voice suddenly asked them from the stairs, and that was the only reason the eye contact between her and Ashara was broken.

Ashara VII

Grounds of Harrenhal

Why did Cersei Lannister have to be nice today? She had anticipated that the woman would try to make Ned believe what his brother had said, but Cersei had suddenly defended her! It had confused Ashara so much that she had even told the blonde what she truly thought about their situation with Ned.

It was Lyanna Stark who had interrupted the odd situation before it could get even worse, and Ashara was partly happy about that. Another part of her would have liked to talk a bit more with her blonde rival. Mayhaps the two of them could come up with a plan to at least make Ned understand they were both trying to win his favor.

“Hello? Did you understand me?” The young woman asked when she stood right in front of Ashara. “He left the hall with you, so I thought you would know where he is?” It was only then that Ashara noticed Robert Baratheon was standing next to his betrothed, giving a small nod.

“Ned just left,” Ashara finally answered, and the blonde next to her nodded.

“He was sure your lord father would wish to speak with him, and so he thought it best to leave now and talk with him,” Cesei added, and the brown haired woman gave a slow nod.

“It would make sense that Lord Rickard would want to speak with him also,” another man suddenly piped up. He was the shortest of them all, but Ashara thought he might be the oldest of them.

“And why would father want to do that, Howland?” Ned’s sister immediately asked, giving away the name of the man who had arrived with them.

“Ned should not have shown any indication that there is a rift between him and his brother where everyone could see it,” Cersei said with a sigh.

“He had to defend Ashara! Who would have if not him? Her brother was busy doing whatever a kingsguard does, and she has no other family members here,” Lyanna fired back at the blonde.

“Cersei actually agrees with that — she told me and Ned before he left — but that is probably the reason why your father wishes to speak with Ned: such a public display is never good — no matter which family we are talking about,” Ashara jumped to the Cersei’s aid, who nodded in turn.

“It makes sense,” another man suddenly spoke up and stepped out of the darkness. “Robert, you know what happened in the Stormlands when the lords knew we were not on the best terms with each other.” It surprised Ashara that Stannis would actually mention that in front of them all.

“But they’re Northerners,” Robert answered with a surprised look.

“There are always lords who wait for the right opportunity to strike, hoping they will rise higher in the ranks,” Howland then said. “There have been a few fights for power in the North. We are lucky that so far the Starks have always come out as the winners. I do not want to imagine a world where they didn’t.”

“You’re a crannogman!” Ashara said a bit louder and more excited than she wanted.

“Yes,” the man only answered with a small nod. “Howland Reed, heir of House Reed and loyal bannerman of the Starks,” the man introduced himself with a nod.

“How could I not have noticed that?” Ashara shook her head. “I read about your people and your family in a book from the library in King’s Landing. It is pretty interesting how you manage to survive and use your natural environment as a protection against enemies.” It was her habit to borrow books and read them when she went to bed. The book about the North had been interesting as it was mainly about the people and how they adjusted to the harsh nature and weather.

“Thank you, but we really just tried to make the best out of our situation,” Howland answered, and Ashara was sure the man was actually blushing because of the compliment. “But I think we should either go back inside or at least move a bit out of the way,” he added, and Ashara noticed that the man was looking around.

“Lady Lyarra is alone inside with Benjen. I think she would like to have some company at the moment,” Robert said, and for Ashara it seemed as if his betrothed was the one who was most surprised by his words. “I mean, we can’t help Ned now, and would probably make the situation even worse if we disturbed Lord Rickard during his talk with Ned,” the tall man said with a shrug.

“I have to agree,” Ned’s sister then slowly said with a nod. “Father is a good man, but the situation right now…” The young girl sighed. “I think it is better to give them some time. He really wasn’t happy about what happened, and I doubt talking with Brandon first helped his mood at all.”

Somehow Ashara wasn’t surprised at all by Lyanna’s words. Brandon didn’t seem like the kind of man who would quickly understand and accept he had done something wrong.

“It  would also keep people from approaching her that have ill intentions. My brother is rather well known for his temper, and I don’t think anyone would risk being the next one with a bleeding nose in the hall,” Stannis added, and Ashara noticed the small smirk on the man’s lips. It was truly a good thing that the brothers had made peace. Stannis would be a good advisor to Robert, Ashara was sure.

“It is true,” Cersei had been silent next to her, but now she spoke again. “There is a good possibility people will think they could gain even more information through Lady Lyarra now. Not that I think she would give anything away, but you know how most men are.” Ashara could practically hear the blonde roll her green eyes when she said that, clearly annoyed by men who thought women were less intelligent, less cunning, and weaker than them.

“I have to agree with Lady Cersei. It is something we have seen rather often in King’s Landing. They try to find every single weakness they can use to their advantage.” It was never fun to watch such scenes. The lords behaved like sharks circling their prey, just waiting to attack when the perfect opportunity came.

“And you think that they would act like that here too?” Ned’s younger sister asked, and Ashara could see the worry in her eyes. She could understand Lyanna. if it was her mother alone in there she would be worried too.

“Nearly all — if not all — the important lords are in the hall and witnessed what happened, and these lords…” Cersei sighed and shook her head. “They don’t care that this is the opening feast of the grandest tourney Westeros has ever seen. They only see it as a chance to gain an advantage against your family, and Robert’s brother is right,” the blonde nodded towards the younger Baratheon. “If there are more people, they will think twice about what they do.”

“I think it is settled then that we return inside?” Howland Reed asked and looked at each of them, clearly waiting for a confirmation.

Each of them nodded, and the group started to walk up the stairs. Before they could even get back inside they were stopped by a man in white armor, the cloak lightly flapping from the wind that came in from the door.

“Ashara,” she looked into eyes that were nearly identical to hers, and somehow it didn’t surprise her that her brother had decided he would need to check on her. “I would like to have a word with you. Now.”

“Could that not wait until the feast is over Ser Arthur?” Cersei asked before Ashara even was able to open her mouth. “We just wanted to return inside and talk with Lady Lyarra.” It still surprised Ashara how the blonde had behaved since Brandon had thought it a good idea to offend her in the middle of the hall.

“Lady Cersei,” her brother replied with a nod. “Sadly it can’t wait till after the feast, but I can promise you my sister will join you as soon as we finish our talk.”

“It is okay, we won’t take long,” Ashara quickly said before Cersei could reply. “Arthur is still on duty and probably just has a short break, so we shouldn’t take too long.” A small smile was on her lips as she stepped towards her brother. “Keep a seat empty for me,” she said as she turned to the others.

“We certainly will, Robert can easily take up enough space for two,” Ned’s younger sister said with a smirk and looked up at the man.

“It is not my fault that I’m so broad,” the man only said with a shrug and a small smirk on his face.

“Thank you.” With that she started to walk down the floor with Arthur, away from the others who entered the hall.

Chapter Text

Jaime I

Grounds of Harrenhal

To say that yesterday had been quite an eventful day would be an understatement, and Jaime was sure he wasn’t the only one who thought as such. So many people had witnessed what had transpired between the Stark brothers. Ned had defended Lady Ashara from his older brother, even though it had shown there was a weak link in the pack.

Jaime hoped Ned’s father hadn’t been too harsh on him. Yes, the brothers’ behavior — especially in front of so many witnesses — was nothing easy to take lightly, but still, he hoped Rickard Stark could somehow understand the situation Ned had been in.

In Jaime’s opinion, Ned had done the right thing. He had protected someone who was attacked. That was what Brandon Stark had done: he had wanted to harm Lady Ashara’s reputation and thereby her person.

“You seem to be deep in thought, Lord Jaime,” a teasing voice suddenly said, and Jaime shook his head, looking to the side where the man had sneaked up on him.

“Does last night not make you thoughtful, Prince Oberyn?” Jaime asked with a small nod as a greeting. Somehow he hoped the prince was in the same situation as him, trying to understand what had happened.

“Well,” the man opposite him said and suddenly looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, it is a bit odd, isn’t it?”

“At least most of the guests seemed to be pretty surprised about what happened, so I suppose you could also say it is odd,” Jaime answered with a sigh.

“Oh! I actually wasn’t talking about the incident during the feast,” Oberyn said with a light laugh. “Rather, I think it is a bit odd that two of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros seem to be quite smitten with a second born son who — before this tourney — was rarely mentioned anywhere. I mean if anyone talked about the North before, it was about Lord Rickard and his heir, Brandon.”

Now that Oberyn mentioned it, Jaime started to think about the notion. It was true: before this tourney he had known the Starks had multiple sons, but he wouldn’t have been able to say how the second born was named — or even if there was anything special about him at all — but that had changed dramatically since Eddard Stark had arrived at Harrenhal, and even more so after what had happened last night.

“Tell me,” Oberyn continued and pulled Jaime out of his thoughts. “Has your sister ever before mentioned Eddard Stark? Has she shown any interest in the North or House Stark at all? Besides during the lessons the two of you had of course,” the prince of Dorne added, and somehow Jaime felt as if the man truly was just now thinking about all this.

Truth be told, Jaime hadn’t thought about it before himself.

“I don’t remember Cersei ever showing a particular interest in the North or the Starks. She was actually rather bored when the maester taught us about the North and tried to rush through the lessons.” Now that Jaime also thought about it, he had to admit that Oberyn Martell was right: the development was an unexpected one.

“As I thought,” the young man next to him said with a nod.

“But he does seem like a good man,” Jaime quickly added. Somehow he liked Ned and didn’t want Oberyn to judge the man without knowing him at all.

All of a sudden the man next to him started to laugh and shook his head, a smirk on his lips while his eyes showed amusement.

“What?” Jaime asked a bit harshly as he thought the man was laughing at him.

“You’re not the first one who has said that to me,” the man answered as he had calmed down, the smirk still on his face. “No one I have talked with has said anything different. Everyone told me Eddard Stark is a good and just man, that he cares about the people and not just about himself.” Something else appeared in the man’s dark eyes, something that seemed like interest, as if wanting proof of that.

Jaime was silent. No answer came to his mind, and he was surprised the other man had seemingly asked multiple people about Ned. Why would a prince of Dorne do that? What would spark his interest in the Northerner that seemed so unlike every other man Jaime knew?

It was then that Jaime understood that this must be the reason for Oberyn’s interest. Eddard Stark was different from any other man he knew, and he could imagine it wasn’t much different for the prince.

They both stood in silence until it was suddenly broken by voices behind them.

“I still can’t believe he really did that,” a booming voice said with a trace of anger in the words. “You told me that you two had never had the best sibling relationship, but doing that in front of all the lords?”

“Somehow I had hoped Brandon might have changed over the years, but he didn’t,” a deep and more calm voice answered. “Instead, it seems as if he got worse.”

“A sparring session will do you good, it will help you calm down and forget things,” the booming voice replied as the two men stepped into the sparring yard. Jaime wasn’t surprised to see Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon when he turned around with Oberyn.

“Lord Eddard, Lord Robert,” Oberyn suddenly said loudly, and Jaime was surprised when he noticed that the man was already walking towards the two newly arrived men.

“Prince Oberyn,” it didn’t surprise Jaime that it was Ned who returned the greeting with a small bow before the heir of House Baratheon followed his example. “I hope Robert and I aren’t disturbing you and Lord Jaime? We just wanted to work in a sparring session.”

“You’re surely not disturbing me and Lord Jaime, we are both here for a sparring session too.” After Oberyn had answered he was looking at Jaime and beckoning him to join them in their conversation.

“Lord Eddard, Lord Robert,” Jaime said with a small bow to both men, feeling a bit unsure about the situation until he saw a small smile on the face of Ned, who returned the bow and greeted him.

“I would guess you both want to spar in preparation for the melee?” Oberyn then asked with a smile. “Both your names were on the list, and a sparring session with two more men — who probably also have very different fighting styles than you are used to facing — will surely help in preparing for what is awaiting you in the melee.”

“Very true words Prince Oberyn,” it was Ned who answered, but Robert nodded in agreement. “I have heard some tales about you being a very skilled fighter, and the same about the way Lord Jaime handles a sword.”

Jaime was surprised Ned had even heard about his skills with a sword, but at the same time he felt pride in the older man recognizing it and not simply sending him away because he was younger.

“It will be good preparation,” Robert Baratheon finally said and pulled Jaime’s attention onto him. “But I warn you both,” the tall man then added, and his voice got more serious, catching Jaime’s full attention. “Everyone knows what happened last night, and Ned isn’t in the best mood because of what happened—”

“Something that is understandable. I don’t think any man would be happy right now if he had been in Lord Eddard’s position last night,” Oberyn said, and Jaime had to agree with him.

“So, that means it is very likely we all will leave this sparring yard with bruises,” the Lord of the Stormlands continued as if Oberyn had never interrupted him. “I know Ned, we trained together every day in the Eyrie, and it really isn’t funny to spar with an angry Ned.”

Jaime didn’t know why, but he believed Robert Baratheon at that moment, and he believed the man truly just wanted to warn them and give them an option to back out of what Oberyn had just offered to them.

“I can’t speak for Lord Jaime, but I will survive a few new bruises,” Oberyn answered, and Jaime felt how all eyes moved to him.

“My father,” Jaime started and took a deep breath, “he says that bruises are like a maester’s lessons. They shall teach us to do something better the next time, and remind us that we’re not perfect, no matter how good we are at something.”

“Lord Tywin is a very intelligent man,” Ned answered to Jaime’s surprise. “My father would say the same, and I agree with it. What is a bruise in the sparring yard could have been a fatal wound in a real battle, so the bruise shows you a weakness that needs your attention.”

Jaime couldn’t help but smile and nod at Ned’s words.

Arthur III

Grounds of Harrenhal

The previous night had taken a bit of a toll on Arthur. Even though he had talked with Ashara, he somehow had an uneasiness within himself because of Brandon Stark.

During his time in King’s Landing he had seen a lot of things, but someone acting like that in front of so many high lords was definitely something new for Arthur, and it hadn’t helped that his sister was the woman who had been defamed before all those people.

It was Brandon Stark’s luck that his brother had decided to take action before Arthur was able to. It had made him so angry that he had been close to challenging the heir of House Stark to a duel, wanting to defend his sister’s honor in front of them all.

In part, he actually had to thank Elia for it. When he had started to move around the table, she had taken a hold of his arm and pulled him back towards her. It always surprised him just how strong Elia was while everyone believed her to be a weak woman.

When he had left the hall he had actually wished to find Eddard Stark and talk with him, but the man had not been with the group of young lords and ladies, and so there was only Ashara he could talk with.

His sister had actually been much calmer about everything that had happened than him, telling him that even though the words had hurt — especially in front of so many people — she was happy that “Ned” had stepped up to defend her. She had said that “Ned” hadn’t believed his brother’s words was another thing that had made her happy, and Arthur had to agree that many lords would have believed Brandon Stark and his words just for the reason that they were Dornish, and all Dornish people must be slovens and slatterns.

Still, Arthur had told his sister she could talk with Elia, that the princess would be able to end the engagement if that was what she wanted after what Ned’s brother had done. A moment later — when he had looked into his sister’s eyes — he had wished the earth would swallow him as he had instantly known he had said the wrong thing.

He had been lucky Ashara hadn’t slapped him, but instead had given him an earful of her opinion about Ned and why Ned was so different from every other man, and how she definitely wouldn’t ask Elia to end her engagement with Ned.

Ned — that was how Ashara called Eddard — and Arthur wanted to slap himself for also using the name.

After that, Ashara had returned with him to the feast and had sat down next to Lyarra Stark as if nothing had happened. Arthur had watched how the two women whispered to each other while Joanna and Cersei Lannister seemed to also mix into the conversation.

His sister talking with Cersei Lannister: that was something that had seemed to be impossible at King’s Landing. Both women had seemed to be in an eternal battle, as if they had found their respective archenemy in each other, and now they were sitting here and talking peacefully.

Odd things had happened at this tourney… or had it really been the tourney responsible? If Arthur thought about it, it rather seemed as if the odd things had started to happen after Eddard Stark had arrived at the tourney and had run into his sister.

What was it that made this man so special? He had to be special for Arthur’s sister to have a real interest in him — and especially for her to be civil around Cersei Lannister.

Still, it was not just his sister. From everything he had watched it seemed as if he had the same effect on Cersei Lannister, who — as far as Arthur knew — had even defended his sister in front of Ned and had confirmed that all Brandon Stark’s words were lies.

Then there was Elia — probably the one who had surprised him the most. The princess had always stuck to formalities, and Arthur could not remember her ever letting anyone get close to her — and especially not to Rhaenys. Then Ned had come, and suddenly it was okay that Rhaenys went to him with Ashara so she could spend time with the man.

As if that wasn’t enough, Balerion — probably the grumpiest cat in Westeros — liked the man according to what he had heard.

The sound of steel clashing with steel pulled Arthur out of his thoughts, and he noticed that his feet had carried him to the sparring yard where four men were sparring with blunted weapons in their hands.

One member of the group was easy for him to identify. He had sparred with Oberyn often enough to know the man preferred the spear above everything else and recognized his movements with the weapon.

There was one with blonde hair, and Arthur was sure he must be the youngest of the group who was proving that age was just a number. The young man was very skilled with a sword, and Arthur was sure he would be a hard match for many of the Hedge Knights here.

The blonde barely dodged the blow of a sword which caused Arthur to look at the next man.

It was a tall and well-trained man, and somehow the sword just looked as if it didn’t belong in the man’s hand. He was simply too strong for a sword as a weapon: a warhammer might be a better fit. Then he realized that this must be Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands and the best friend of…

Arthur’s eyes immediately moved to the last of the four men, and it was easy to identify Eddard Stark, but the weapon surprised Arthur once more: the man was sparing with a greatsword!

Blunted greatswords were not a common thing. Nearly all the blunted greatswords he had seen in his life were custom made for the person who practiced with the greatsword. They were made to simulate an experience as close as possible to that of the wielder’s true greatsword.

What surprised him even more was with what ease Ned handled the sword. The movements were fluent and precise, not wasting any energy on senseles blows that would be easy for his opponent to dodge or block.

It was easy to notice that Oberyn was having problems — and Oberyn rarely had problems in a fight — with Ned as an opponent, but then a small opening was visible and Arthur was sure Oberyn now had Ned. Then the Northerner quickly moved the greatsword in the way of the spear, the blunted head barely missing his arm. The block had been interesting, but what surprised Arthur even more was when Oberyn tried to pull the spear back but the weapon wouldn’t move. Instead the blunted blade of the greatsword was at the neck of the prince of Dorne.

It was only then that Arthur realized Ned was holding the greatsword with a single hand while the other was holding the spear in place, knuckles white from the pressure the man was putting on the wood so the spear wouldn’t move.

This was the first time Arthur had seen Oberyn yield to a man in the sparring yard, dropping his end of the spear before audibly pronouncing his elimination from the session.

Arthur watched intently what now happened. Robert Baratheon had suddenly stopped attacking the blonde one and was now approaching Ned together with the man he had attacked moments ago, just as you might do in the melee when you want to eliminate the strongest opponent: you built a temporary alliance.

Two against one was always a hard fight, but it was manageable — even with a greatsword.

“This will be an interesting one, I didn’t think Jaime and Robert would form an alliance against Eddard,” Oberyn suddenly said next to him, and then finally Arthur recognized the blonde one as the son of Tywin Lannister.

“It will be interesting,” was all Arthur said with a nod as his eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him.

“I bet a dragon on the alliance,” Oberyn just said, and Arthur raised a brow.

“I hold against it, I am sure he will beat them,” Arthur replied, and somehow he felt he was right.

Where Robert’s attacks were powerful — sometimes even causing sparks to fly when his sword met the greatsword — Jaime’s attacks were quick and precise, but Ned was still able to avoid or block them.

It was impressive to watch the footwork of the young Northerner. It seemed as if the fight was no different from a dance for him, his feet moving as if the attacks came according to a rhythm, a song in his head only he could hear.

Again it happened in a moment where Arthur thought Ned was going to lose. Robert Baratheon raised his sword and brought it down with so much force Arthur was sure it would break a bone should it hit its target. At the same time, Jaime seemed to attack Ned’s abdomen, and this was a combination that was nearly impossible to block, but somehow the quiet wolf was able to do just that.

It was as if time had slowed down for Arthur. He watched as Ned raised the greatsword at an odd angle that a moment later made sense as he hit the lower side of Jaime's sword with it. As if the swords were sticking together, Ned was leading the sword up with his greatsword, and it was suddenly on his other side, right in the path of Robert Baratheon’s sword. Sparks flew when Robert’s sword hit Jaime’s. Arthur watched the greatsword move away in the blink of an eye as Ned jumped out of the way, and Jaime’s sword was laying on the ground while the greatsword was against Robert Baratheon’s neck.

Arthur watched Jaime make a desperate attempt to dive for his sword, but before he could reach it Ned’s boot was already on the hilt, and both men were forced to yield.

“Impressive,” Arthur mumbled as his eyes once again moved to Ned. What he had just seen proved that Ned would be more than capable of protecting his sister, but at the moment it was a level of skill Arthur had not anticipated. Arthur felt Ned might be able to match Barristan in a battle for life and death, but even in that match Arthur thought the young Northerner might have an advantage.

That left only him, and Arthur was confident he would be able to defeat Ned, but something in the back of his mind nagged at this confidence, telling him it might be a more difficult battle than he thought. He hoped Ned would treat his sister right so neither of them would have to find out.

Chapter Text

Elia IV

Keep of Harrenhal

“Why did Nappa hit the loud man?” Elia knew the answer to her daughter’s question wasn’t really that hard, but it still got her to think about what had happened last night.

Everything had seemed fine, as if it really was going to be a normal feast without any disturbance — so unlike the ones they had in King’s Landing, where everyone feared a sudden outburst from King Aerys.

Yes, the people must have heard rumors about what was going on in King’s Landing, but Aerys had so far been calm here — at least in front of the people. The only sign of his madness had been the way he had looked: the hair and beard had been overgrown and unkempt, and the nails on his fingers had been so long they had looked like claws.

Still, it had seemed as if the lords and ladies — as well as the knights — had simply ignored that. Everyone had celebrated and had seemed to be in a good and cheery mood. Before the dancing had even started, the first groups had started to build at tables, and people had been talking with old friends and trying to make new ones.

Just as she had when she had been a child, Elia had enjoyed watching the people, how some of them had been desperately trying to gain certain friends and others had wanted to gain the attention of a certain lady. Most people hadn’t noticed how they had made fools of themselves, especially if they had already had a few cups of wine before they had worked up the courage to ask.

The dancing had soon started, and Elia had been quite happy just watching the others dance. As much as she had enjoyed dancing as a child, it had felt more like a burden to her than anything else as of late. Somehow that had also been good for her, as it had made everyone believe that she was too fragile and weak for even a simple dance.

Ashara had danced three dances before she had finally danced with Eddard, a dance that for a moment Elia had thought to be lost. She had noticed how hesitant the young Northerner had become when he had seen Ashara talking with someone already, and Elia had been sure he would turn around and simply leave, but it seemed as if something had spurred the gentle giant to walk on.

For Elia it had been no surprise that Ashara seemed more than happy when Eddard had approached her and seemingly asked for a dance. However, it had surprised her when the elder Stark brother had talked to Ashara first.

It had been the dance that had finally kept Elia from thinking about the situation a bit more just after it had happened. She had been too happy for her friend — and may have also wished for a moment to change places with Ashara when Eddard had shown how skilled a dancer he was.

Yet as soon as the dance had ended, Brandon Stark had decided to make a fool of himself and had offended Ashara publicly. It had pained Elia to listen to the man’s words, but before she had been able to intervene on Ashara’s behalf, she had been forced to stop Arthur from — in all likelihood — killing the man.

Luck had been on her side, as the attention of the crowd had been on Brandon, and no one had noticed that she had still been strong enough to stop Arthur from simply walking around the table. That had been the one thing her brother and Arthur had in common: as soon as anyone offended their sister, they jumped to challenge the person to a duel. As chivalrous as it seemed, it was also foolish, and would not have helped anyone.

Brandon’s shouting had caused her to turn around while her hand had still been around Arthur's lower arm to keep him from doing something stupid. She had wanted to stop it — to get her uncle or someone else to intervene — but before she could act, Eddard had already sent his brother down on the floor with a single punch.

Elia had quickly noticed that she hadn’t been the only one surprised by that. She also noticed that Rickard Stark seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been surprised at all. Even though the man’s face had looked as if it was made out of stone, he had reacted so quickly there was no chance it had surprised him.

“Mami?” Rhaenys pulled her out of her thoughts, and Elia looked at her daughter.

“How do you know Nappa hit a loud man?” She asked her daughter then with a raised brow. “As far as I know you were in your room and should have been asleep at that time?” As amusing as it was to watch Rhaenys squirm in her seat — blushing as she realized she had asked something she shouldn’t have — Elia knew she could not smile or laugh: she had to find out who had told her daughter that.

“I had a nightmare…” Rhaenys finally started slowly. “Tío Lewy checked on me, and he told me about Nappa being a very good man last night.”

“Tío Lewy.” Elia couldn’t hold back a smile and shook her head. “I will have to talk with Tío Lewy later on,” she added as she raised her cup of freshly pressed juice and took a sip from it.

“Don’t be angry with him,” her daughter said and looked at her with big eyes.

“Oh, I’m not angry with your tío,” Elia said with a smile still on her lips. “Still, I would have preferred if he would have left the decision to me if I wanted you to know, solecito.” With that she reached for one of the apples and started to cut it into slices that Rhaenys could eat without a problem.

“Last night, a man was very mean to Ara,” she then told her daughter who had just bitten into one of the slices and now looked at her with big eyes again, making Elia chuckle at the view.

“Why mean to Ara?” her daughter asked as soon as she had swallowed the apple.

“I don’t know solecito. The man had just approached Nappa and Ara after they had finished dancing and seemed to be unhappy when Ara rather wanted to dance with Nappa again instead of him.” Elia sighed and shook her head. “The man was very mean to Ara then, and Nappa hit him, but he only did that to defend Ara.” Somehow Elia felt it was important that Rhaenys understood that Ned had only defended Ashara and not attacked Brandon unprovoked.

“Nappa protected Ara,” her daughter nearly squealed and seemed to be rather excited and happy about that. “Nappa likes Ara!” Rhaenys added even faster with a toothy grin.

“I think so too,” Elia said with a smile, but then she remembered that there was also another woman. A woman who had followed Ashara and Ned, who later on sat at the same table as Ned’s mother and Ashara, and even talked with them both.

Even though the Starks had agreed to her offer, Elia knew that part of her offer was so far no more than her word. At the moment the ruling was that any male heir would come before a female heir, meaning that even if Rhaegar died or was disinherited, his younger brother would stand before Rhaenys in the line of succession.

It was no secret that Aerys didn’t like her — the man didn’t even try to hide it in King’s Landing — but Elia knew it wasn’t any different with Rhaenys.

She would have to gain some support for Rhaenys from the madman, and now she saw her chance, with the rumors of the offer from the Lannisters. She would have to make sure Aerys heard about it, and then she would present Aerys with her idea and make it look as if supporting Rhaenys was the key to showing Tywin Lannister who was the King and who had more power.

That the Starks had also displayed a dispute within the pack the previous evening might be an additional aid. She was sure that Aerys’s mood was still on a high after the very public display that must have amused him. Still, as mad as the man was, she was sure the man would also see a chance at getting a more powerful hold on the North if he could get ties to the younger son.

She would have to watch her words and wrap it up nicely to make it look more like Rhaegar’s idea and give Aerys the feeling that he had perfected it. The man must feel as if the idea to support Rhaenys just to get the marriage — and thereby spiting Tywin Lannister — was his own idea. It would be even better if he felt as if the entire marriage was originally his idea.

“Can I leave you alone with tío Art until Ara arrives, solecito?” Elia asked as she pushed some more slices of the apple towards her daughter.

“Tío Art,” Rhaenys only said excitedly about spending some time with Ashara’s brother, and Elia smiled as she walked over to her daughter.

“I will tell tío Art to come inside,” she said before placing a gentle kiss atop her daughter's head.

“Bye Mami,” Rhaenys said, and Elia hugged her daughter before she moved towards the door, leaving the room and sending Arthur inside while she made sure Lewyn would be outside of it.

It would be good if Rhaenys was protected by two capable knights, in case her plan should fail.

Lyarra IV

Stark Camp

Rickard might be able to hide his emotions from the lords and ladies, but Lyarra immediately knew that her husband was not only angry, but also sad. As much as she wanted to be there for Rickard at this moment, she knew she wouldn’t be able to help him. He was the Lord Paramount and the father of Brandon and Ned. People would look oddly at them if she tried to interfere with his decisions.

If they had been in Winterfell it would have been different. There, they could have talked with their sons together without anyone judging them for their way of raising them. Here… it simply wasn’t worth the risk of pulling even more attention onto themselves.

While her husband was gone with their oldest, Lyarra had been left alone at the table with Benjen and some of their most loyal bannermen. Yet everyone at their table was silent after what had just transpired. Even the normally boisterous Greatjon was quiet and seemed thoughtful.

Lyarra was more than happy when someone asked if it was all right if they sat down at the table with her. It surprised her when she realized it was Joanna Lannister with her youngest son Tyrion.

Now that Lyarra thought about it, it was amusing that Ned was again part of the reason the two Lannisters had decided to join them. Joanna had told her that Ned had been sure his younger brother Benjen and Tyrion would get along, and he had originally wanted to introduce them, but as Ned wasn’t in the hall at the moment, they thought they would simply come over on their own.

Where many people would probably try to avoid Tyrion because of his appearance, Benjen made Lyarra proud of her family. Without any kind of incentive he had joined the other boy and was talking with him quietly while they seemed to look through a book Tyrion had brought with him.

It was a scene that made her smile, but she also noticed the smile on Joanna's face, a smile that showed real happiness about her son maybe finding a friend.

Over the rest of the evening Lyarra had enjoyed talking with Joanna, and more so later on when Cersei had joined them at the table together with Ned’s other friends. The news that Ned had left to talk with Rickard hadn’t been surprising: it had been what she had anticipated from Ned.

Later on Ashara had also joined their table and it had still been nice to talk with everyone, but Lyarra had been worried that their mixed table might pull too much attention onto it.

“You seem to be deep in thought this morning?” Her husband’s deep voice pulled Lyarra out of her thoughts, and she gave a slow nod.

“I thought about last night,” she answered with a small smile, while Rickard only sighed and shook his head.

“You were right, you know,” her husband said all of a sudden to her surprise. “About Brandon. I should have been more strict when he was younger. It is partly my fault; I let him get out of punishment too easily most of the time.”

Even though it pained Lyarra she had to partly agree with Rickard. If he had sometimes been a bit more strict with Brandon, then their oldest might have known his boundaries — and maybe even the dance.

“We can’t turn back time, my love,” Lyarra said to her husband. “All we can do now is try to lead Brandon back onto the correct path. As it is now, he made a fool of himself — not only in front of our bannermen but also the lords and ladies. He will have to regain their respect if he will one day be the Lord Paramount of the North.” A sigh followed the words.

“Our Bannermen… What must they think after Brandon’s little act?” Once more Rickard sighed, leaning back in his chair to look at the ceiling of the tent.

“Well, the Greatjon was speechless and seemed rather thoughtful after what happened…” It was then that Lyarra realized that maybe the Greatjon had compared Brandon and Ned within his mind, trying to decide which of them was better fit to follow Rickard as heir.

Yes, the Greatjon was Rickard’s close friend — and probably their most loyal bannermen besides the Reeds — but would it be the same with Brandon? Who could guarantee them that their bannermen would truly be loyal to their oldest son, and that they wouldn’t choose to get rid of Brandon and make Ned their Lord Paramount?

Was the rift really that large between them already? Would Ned really rebel against his brother when the time came, and claim what was never meant to be his?

She shouldn’t even think about that — they had other plans for Ned as far as she knew from her husband — but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth that Rickard had kept it a secret from her in the first place. Normally they trusted each other with everything.

“I will have to talk with them — all of them,” Rickard’s sudden words pulled Lyarra out of her thoughts, and she blinked before she noticed her husband had already gotten up from his chair, straightening his clothes as he prepared himself to step out of their tent.

“Are you sure you’re ready to talk with them?” With a raised brow she looked at her husband.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m ready,” her husband shook his head as he walked over to her, and Lyarra looked up into his eyes. “You know how they are. If I don’t talk with them now, they will start to talk with each other, and that never means anything good.” With these words her husband placed a gentle kiss on her lips before he left their tent.

So, Lyarra was once more alone, able to think in silence about everything.

Her thoughts traveled to Ned. She understood why he had punched Brandon, and in a way she was proud of him. Ned — the shy second son — had stood up to his brother and defended Ashara, but he had done so with his fists instead of his words.

She was torn between pride in Ned and the knowledge that Rickard had to punish him because this kind of reaction was unacceptable. They had publicly displayed that there was a conflict within their family, and Ned’s punch might have made it look worse than it truly was.

Yet at the same time, Ned’s reaction was proof enough for Lyarra that they made the right choice with the betrothal to Ashara… It was then that Lyarra realized they should probably also talk with Ashara and her brother.

Lyarra was sure Ashara wouldn’t even consider ending the betrothal with Ned, but her brother was another story.

What would they do if Arthur Dayne reported what had happened to his parents? How would Lord and Lady Dayne react to the news of Brandon openly offending their daughter?

Now that Lyarra thought about it, it also surprised her that Arthur hadn’t challenged Brandon to a duel the previous evening. Nobody would have been able to intervene or complain about it: Brandon himself had given Arthur a just cause the way he had very publicly and very loudly talked to and about Ashara.

Mayhaps Ned had simply been quicker than the man could react and had saved his brother's life? 

What was a punch compared to a sword through your chest?

The thought alone pained Lyarra. Brandon really had risked his life last night, but for what? To feel better than Ned? To prove something? She didn’t understand what had caused her oldest to act like this, but Lyarra now understood just what a mess her oldest son had created when he had offended Ashara like that.

She really needed to talk with the Daynes, but how could she arrange that? It would be well within Ser Arthur’s right to decline any invitation that she and Rickard sent him to talk about what had happened.

There really was only one person who came to her mind who might be able to help her with the situation she was in: Princess Elia.

She really hadn’t wished to rely on anyone’s help, but it was the princess who had offered the betrothal in the first place, and so Lyarra simply hoped that the young woman also had an interest in helping them in this matter.

Lyarra took a deep breath before rising from her chair and straightening her dress once more. She had quickly decided that she would walk to the keep, making it look as if she was strolling over the market to take a look at the merchants' offers.

So, Lyarra was on her way, a small smile on her face as she walked past the guards at the entrance of her and Rickard’s tent.

Chapter Text

Catelyn II

Tully Camp

Even though it was well past midday, Catelyn did not feel like leaving her tent at all. She felt embarrassed and humiliated — and that all by a man she did not  even know personally.

A man who would become her husband in the near future.

At first she had thought Brandon had been dancing with Princess Elia’s much too beautiful friend, but all too soon she had found out that the man she had thought to be Brandon was the Starks’ second born son.

She was lucky that she had not told anyone besides Lysa what she had seen at the God’s Eye. What would people think of her if she was not even able to recognize her betrothed? That she had thought her soon to be brother-in-law had actually been her betrothed…

Still, who would care after what Brandon had done the previous evening?

She had mixed up the two brothers based on the description of a man she had never before seen, yet her future husband had propositioned Lady Ashara, and then had acted as if the woman was a whore when she had refused him.

Not only had Brandon made a fool of himself — not knowing that the dance had two versions — but he had also dishonored Catelyn with his words and behavior.

Somehow it had hurt her, that Brandon had not sought her out once during the previous two days, but instead had tried to steal a woman from his younger brother.

Catelyn simply couldn’t understand why he would do that. What must he think about her that he avoided her and instead searched for other women to accompany him to his bed?

Everyone had always told her that she was a beautiful woman, and if Catelyn was honest, she thought the same about herself. Yes, she knew she wasn’t as beautiful as Ashara Dayne or Cersei Lannister, but she was close to them. Surely a man should be happy to be betrothed to her.

Somehow she felt Brandon’s brother would be happy about it, that the tall and muscular Lord Eddard Stark wouldn’t search out any other woman, but instead spent his time with her if she were his betrothed. She was sure if he was in his brother’s place, he would be here right now, having his strong arms wrapped around her and holding her protectively.

Such thoughts were wrong of her. They went against everything she’d been raised to believe. Her Septa would have told her that it was not her place as a dutiful wife-to-be to question her future husband’s behavior, and would have been scandalized at the suggestion of any… carnal experimentation… before marriage. Yet it seemed life was not a song, at least not for her.

Catelyn found herself in turmoil. What should she do? It was wrong to pine for Lord Eddard, especially in a way only appropriate for a woman married to him, when she never would be. Yet it was difficult to resist the impulse… as difficult as it was to resist her… urges. Her Septa would advise her to pray for guidance, but Catelyn had been pious and dutiful her entire life, so why had this happened to her? As her thoughts drifted to the Septa, she felt a degree of scorn rise within her. It was improper, and it was not right… but it felt right.

Catelyn had taken a bath a few moments ago, and was still wearing only her robe while laying on her bed. As her thoughts traveled to Lord Eddard, she started to move her hand without even noticing it, opening the robe such that she soon felt the skin of her flat stomach underneath her fingers.

Slowly she moved her hands up towards her breasts, caressing them for a moment before finally moving her hands on top of them. Her fingers brushed over her soft nipples, which seemed to instantly harden. 

One thing Catelyn was very happy about was that her breasts were big and firm. There was not a tiniest hint of sag visible on the pale mounds that were dominated by hard pink nipples right now. 

Even though she only gently squeezed her breasts, a moan escaped her lips as she imagined that it was Lord Eddard who squeezed them with his rough and calloused hands, kneeling over her while admiring how her breasts were more than a handful — even with his big hands that dwarfed her own.

At first, Lord Eddard would be gentle — she was sure about that — but as time passed, the wolf would awaken and she was sure he would claim her breasts completely as his, kissing and biting them, and sometimes sucking on her nipples and teasing them with his teeth.

Catelyn slowly moved one of her hands down along her side while she pulled her feet towards herself, pressing them down onto the mattress of her bed such that she lifted her bum from it. She immediately moved her hand onto it and squeezed it, proud of her — in her mind — perfectly round and firm butt. She imagined how Eddard would squeeze it and praise her for her breasts and bum.

Without even thinking about it, Catelyn then moved a hand up between her thick thighs. As soon as her fingers were on her sex she felt just how wet she was. For a moment Catelyn considered simply pushing a finger inside herself, but Lord Eddard wouldn’t do that, no matter how wet she was. He would make sure she was truly ready.

So Catelyn slowly pulled her hand back a bit, until she felt the already hardened nub under her fingers. She had read that this little nub could push a woman to orgasm, and she was certain Lord Eddard also knew he would give her a first orgasm simply by rubbing her little nub with his rough and calloused finger.

So she rubbed it, pressed down upon it, and sometimes even gently squeezed it and rolled it between her fingers. Already she had to bite her pillow to keep herself from moaning out loud, not wanting to pull unwanted attention onto her tent as her toes curled, and she felt muscles twitching she hadn’t even known she possessed.

She was starting to lose control, her breathing quickening while it felt as if her heart was beating so hard and fast it might jump out of her breast. Her body felt hot and tingly, and it was as if all her muscles suddenly cramped, her toes curling and her fingers digging into the pillow, which she pressed against her mouth with all her might to silence the loud scream before she sagged down onto her bed completely exhausted and flushed.

It was as if she could still hear her blood rushing through her veins, warming her body from within while her muscles uncontrollably clenched and unclenched.

A smile was on Catelyn’s face as she imagined how Lord Eddard would now tower over her, smiling as he promised that they were far from done, and Catelyn was happy about that.

“Catelyn?” Her uncle Brynden’s voice pulled her from her thoughts and Catelyn blinked. “Are you alright, Catelyn?” Her uncle asked once more, and Catelyn knew he would come inside her tent no matter what.

She quickly looked down over naked body, noticing the wet mess she had made on the bed sheets as she wrapped the robe around her and tied a tight knot to secure it before pulling the blanket up over her legs to cover the mess she had made.

“Are you alright Cat?” It seemed as if she had been just in time as her uncle suddenly poked his head inside her tent. “I thought I heard you screaming?” He asked in a worried voice.

“Just a bad dream uncle Brynden,” Catelyn answered as she acted as if she was hugging her pillow to her chest.

“About last night?” Her uncle asked as he slowly stepped inside the tent.

“Yes,” was Catelyn’s only answer before she pressed her face into her pillow, wanting to hide from her uncle while she only wished he had left her alone so she could enjoy the afterglow of her orgasm a bit longer… fantasize about Lord Eddard a bit longer.

“It hit you pretty hard what the Stark boy said, hm?” Her uncle asked her gently, and Catelyn took a deep breath before looking at him once more and nodded.

“What he did… I fear he might do such things even after we’re married, that he will never respect me as his wife,” she then said with a sigh.

“After what happened… I think you should talk with your father about it, Cat,” Brynden said with a sigh, and he looked to the ground as he shook his head. “The boy should be happy his brother made him shut up, or I would have done it,” he grumbled then.

“Why would someone do that to his younger brother?” It still confused her. Why wasn’t Brandon happy his brother had seemingly found happiness with a woman who seemed to love him?

“That is a question I can’t answer, little Cat. Even though I have been searching for the answer since I was a young man…” Again her uncle sighed and shook his head. “But instead of worrying about this now, you should get up and slowly prepare yourself for the evening. I think we should take a stroll over the market, maybe we will find something you would like to buy,” her uncle said with a small smile.

“You’re right uncle, I shouldn’t hide in my tent,” Catelyn agreed, happy her uncle would finally leave her alone as she needed to get dressed.

“I will wait at the center of the camp,” was all her uncle said before he left.

Catelyn sighed as she threw the pillow behind her and pushed her blanket down. As soon as she had gotten up from her bed, she had loosened the knot and pushed her robe down. She could see her juices still trickling down her inner thigh and smiled.

She was a beautiful woman who had nothing to be ashamed of, and she would dress accordingly. 

Varys II

Keep of Harrenhal

Seeing the king still gleeful about the events of the previous night brought Varys some ease,  and he had to admit that he had been happy about the development as well.

At the beginning of the feast, he had been worried the Starks might be a risk he and his friend hadn’t calculated — had not even paid enough attention to, really — but then Rickard Stark’s heir had taken that worry away.

For whatever reason, the boy had thought it a good idea to demonstrate a divide within his family in front of everyone. Varys knew that in many families there was a rivalry between the first and second born, but what Brandon Stark had displayed was more than just a rivalry: it had been a public display of disdain and animosity.

A rift within House Stark had been the best thing that could happen for them and their plan: the North would be concentrating on themselves while they were changing the fate of Westeros and the dynasty that ruled it.

What surprised Varys now was that Rhaegar — together with his wife — had come to Aerys. Normally it was only Rhaegar, and even those visits had become rather rare, and had left Aerys with the impression that his son was plotting behind his back.

It wasn’t hard to know about the offer Rhaegar had made to the Starks. After all, they had made it public knowledge, and so Varys had dutifully reported it to Aerys. He was still the Master of Whisperers after all, and couldn’t risk the king thinking him a man who planned to betray him.

So when Rhaegar started to tell his father about the offer, the king rather rudely interrupted him and told him that he already knew about it.

Varys was sure it would damage the relationship between father and son even more, but then Rhaegar surprised him. According to him, the Lannisters had also made an offer to the Starks for a betrothal between Lady Cersei and Lord Eddard — something that would ensure the Rock could be ruled by Cersei in case something happened to Tywin’s son Jaime.

If Varys was honest, the offer made sense not only for the Lannisters, but also for the Starks. If they were lucky, their second born son would also be the husband of the Lady Paramount of the West. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if Tywin Lannister declared his daughter to be his heir instead of his abnormality of a second son.

Even  if Cersei did not become the Lady Paramount of the West, they would still have a strong tie to the Lannisters: something that guaranteed them support during the harsh winters that often came over their land.

At the same time, their second son would also have a befitting wife in case his older brother died or was disinherited for anything stupid he did — making Cersei Lannister the wife of a Lord Paramount. Yes, Varys could see why Tywin Lannister had made an offer to the Starks.

“He is plotting!” The king's high pitched scream pulled Varys out of his thoughts as the man threw his wine-filled goblet towards the door. “He thinks he is a clever lion, trying to plot behind the dragon’s back,” the mad king kept roaring, and the madness was clear to see in his eyes.

“Father,” Rhaegar pulled man’s attention onto himself once more, and Varys was not sure that was a wise decision. With the state that the king was in, it was not unlikely that he would now also accuse his son of treason and want him killed right here at Harrenhal.

“What? Do you have more news of treason for me? More people who are plotting behind my back?” The king answered, and Varys once more worried about the plan he and his friend had made.

“No,” Rhaegar said and shook his head as he made a step towards his father. “I think we might actually have some good news,” even though the prince sounded as if he was not completely sure whether the news was good or bad.

“Then what is it that you want to tell me? Did someone take care of the golden lion already?” The laugh that escaped the king’s laps made the hair on the Varys’s neck stand on end. It was cold, bloodthirsty, and mad.

“No, but… I already talked with Lord Rickard,” the crown prince started, and it wasn’t news for Varys. His little birds had already told him that the Starks had visited the princess, but he hadn’t known what the matter of the visit was.

“Oh?” The king asked and now there was a bit of interest in his voice. “And why would you do that? I didn’t tell you to meet with the wolf.” There was madness again, suspecting his son of treason.  It was a pity — even though that was exactly what Varys wanted: for the trust between father and son is completely gone.

“We knew the betrothal of their son to a lady from a Dornish House wouldn’t be that interesting for the Starks, so we offered that the first son of Lord Eddard and Lady Ashara would be betrothed to my daughter Rhaenys,” Rhaegar said and the king gave an annoyed sigh.

“I already know you offered your Dornish offspring to the Starks: my Master of Whisperers told me about that a day ago” It was clear the king didn’t care about his granddaughter and what would happen to her.

“Well, I hope Lord Eddard will decide that he and Lady Ashara are going to live in King’s Landing after they travel for a bit,” the prince continued before the king laughed again.

“That way we would have the Northerners close to us, and the North would think twice about acting against us,” Varys noticed the sadistic smirk that came to the king’s face. “And while the young man is with us, we will be able to influence him and make sure he is completely loyal to us. Then we will always have a loyal subject we can place as the Warden of the North if needed.” Another clearly mad laugh came from the king.

“I—” the prince wanted to say but stopped to take a breath. “We told the Starks that Rhaenys would be my heir until I get a son,” the prince then said, and that shocked Varys.

A long time ago a great council had decided that any male Targaryen would come before a female, and now the prince had promised his daughter would become his heir until he had a son.

Varys anticipated the worst when the king just sat silently on the throne-like chair that had been placed within his chambers.

“I understand,” the king said to Varys's surprise. “You made the wolves an offer that they couldn’t refuse, that way the lion would have no chance,” the mad man said with a slow nod. “And now you need me to support your word, to prove that the dragons are still united, unlike what we saw last night.”

“Yes, father,” the prince said and gave a slight bow. “I know only you can decide such a matter. You are the king, and your word is the law,” the man added and slowly looked up again.

“That is correct, my son,” the mad king said with a gleam in his eyes. “The dragon makes the law, not some lords who thought they could decide things over our heads because they called their meeting the Great Council.” The king spat on the ground before he laughed once more. “I will support your word. I will declare your daughter your heir; only your own son shall come before her.” A nod towards the maester in the room accompanied the king’s words, and the heavy man hurried towards a table to write down a proclamation for the king. “That will teach the lion not to plot behind my back.”

“Thank you father,” the prince said and bowed together with his wife. “We will take our leave so you can let the maester write the proclamation according to your wishes.”

The king only gave a wave of his hand, and the couple left the room. Varys was too shocked to think or say anything.

Chapter Text

Howland III

Gods Eye

After everything that had happened the previous night, Howland had needed some time alone. As much as he had wished to think about it and try to understand the plans and schemes of the Old Gods, he had known he would never be able to fully understand it all, nor would he ever be able to see the big picture they saw.

Knowing he had needed to take his mind off things, he had thought about different things he could do. Aye, he could have joined Ned and Robert on the sparing ground, but somehow he had a feeling the two friends would be fine without him and that he wouldn’t be needed there at all.

A walk through the marketplace also wasn’t a real option for him. He would only get interested in all the offered books and try to find good additions for the library at Greywater Watch.

At that moment, he knew what to do. He went directly to the few belongings he had brought with him, checking his surroundings to make sure nobody was watching him before he opened his bag. It took him a few moments until he was finally holding a rather old looking book in his hands.

For a moment he stood there and looked at the book before he put it in the inside pocket of his cloak and went out of the tent.

His feet quickly carried him to the Gods Eye, his eyes scanning his surroundings again and again to make sure no one was following or watching him. When he finally reached the water he started to walk along it, until he found a nice spot.

The clearing was hidden by trees and bushes, only one way leading in and out — at least if someone wanted to get into the clearing without causing sound and inflicting wounds upon oneself.

It was simply the perfect spot for him, as if the Old Gods had created it for him to have a safe place where he could sit down and pull out the book he had put into his cloak earlier.

Again his eyes lingered on the book’s cover, which was completely blank.

Most people who saw it might think that it was an old diary, or a notebook that had been passed down within the line of heritage and was now in his possession. 

Howland was sure that was the intention of the man who gave his ancestor the task of creating this book, a task that had been passed down within their line for generations.

If people knew how old the book in his hands was — what knowledge it held — it would not end well. If people had even known this book existed, then Greywater Watch would probably have been under attack for centuries.

With a shake of his head, Howland pushed his thoughts aside and opened the book, starting to read the first page.

About this Book

1 AC - Day of Aegon’s Coronation

Many of us had been surprised to see him come outside in the middle of the night. It was odd, as peace had been declared just a few moons earlier when Torrhen Stark had bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, who should be crowned today.

For hours, Lord Reed had stood and waited at the gate of Greywater Watch until a single man appeared at it, wearing a dark green coat that should help him hide from spies. Lord Reed and this man shared not a single word, only greeting each other with mutual nods before walking into the lord’s solar.

In the safety of the solar, it was revealed the man had actually been Brandon Snow, bastard halfbrother of Torrhen Stark.

“My brother sent me to deliver a message for you, Lord Reed.” With that Brandon Snow pulled a sealed message from his coat handing it over to Lord Reed who nodded. “I’m sure you were expecting it already,” Brandon added with a small smile and leaned back while the lord started to read.

“Lord Reed,

I hope my message finds you in the best health.
If my calculations are correct, then my brother should have handed you this message on the day of the coronation, the first day of 1 AC as the people will say.

Our families are united by a special bond, and I know the Reeds and crannogmen will forever be the Starks’ most loyal followers, which is an honor for my house.
With this knowledge, my brother and I decided that the most important task should be given to you and your people.

You shall write a book which contains the important things that can’t be found in the maesters’ books. It should contain the following things:

• The words of the gods

• The Old Council and the decisions it makes

• Special members of my family and their stories

• Important decisions and plans my family makes

• Whatever your family and people deem important

The book shall become the most important one for my family, a source of knowledge for future heads of my house.

This also makes it necessary that it is only accessible by the future heads of House Stark and those of their choosing.

I trust you and your family with this task.

May the old gods never leave our side.

Torrhen Stark
Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North”

Lord Reed was more than honored by the task, accepting it gracefully, but neither him nor Brandon Snow left the solar until the sun was setting again in the evening.
Even then, the leave was only to call for Lord Reed’s most trusted men, and to let some food and drinks be brought to the solar.

As soon as the men and women were in the solar and food and drinks were served, the door was locked again until the sun rose the next morning.

It was decided that the book and its chapters should never carry the name of a writer, as it was to be continued by the crannogmen until the end of days.

“You know you shouldn’t be here alone with that book, don’t you?” A deep voice suddenly disrupted the quietness of the clearing, and Howland closed the book.

“But I wasn’t alone, was I Asger?” Howland replied with a small smile as he looked up at the green man.

“I can’t risk anyone besides you or the Starks getting their hands on that book, so I had to make sure you were safe, and that no one with ill intentions would cause problems we could have easily avoided,” the man with dark green skin replied, a smile visible on his lips.

“With you being here now, am I understanding correctly when I say it is a safe place and we have nothing to worry about?” Howland replied as he put the book back into the inside pocket of his cloak.

“I got some help that I trust to keep us safe,” Asger finally moved next to him and sat down, a sigh escaping the green man’s face.

Howland looked up and noticed that the sun had already started to set. It surprised him how much time had passed. Somehow it felt as if he had just arrived at the clearing a moment ago.

“A lot of things happened last night,” Asger pulled Howland’s attention back onto himself. “I know you have questions my friend. I know you wish you could understand them and their plan.” Once more the green man sighed, still a small smile on his face.

“It is just so confusing sometimes,” Howland admitted with a sigh. “The Starks have always been known for their strong bonds, to the point that they really are like a pack of wolves, and now that happened — an open fallout between two brothers,” he shook his head, unable to understand why it had happened.

“For now, it may not make sense, but with time it will,” the man next to him said with a shrug. “Give it time, Howland. With time you will understand why it happened.”

“Patience,” Howland said with another sigh, but his lips slowly curled into a smile. “I remember, the most important lesson and most needed skill is patience.” Once more he looked at the green man next to him who gave a simple nod.

“Exactly, you need to be patient and trust them,” Asger replied with a nod. “I know it can be annoying to not understand something, to not know why something happens or happened…”

“You do not know why either?” Howland asked the green man now with a raised brow, and the man shrugged.

“It was not important for my mission, and you know they only share what is needed,” Asger replied, and then got up from the ground. “You should prepare for the feast, it won’t be good if you are missing.” With these words Asger helped him up before he left the clearing and disappeared into the woods again.

Cersei VI

Marketplace of Harrenhal

When Jaime had told her that he was going to the sparring yard with Prince Oberyn, it had been an easy decision for Cersei that she didn’t want to join them. Her first attempt at visiting the market had failed when she had run into Ashara and Ned. On second thought, it had not really failed now that she thought about it, as Cersei was sure that nothing a merchant could offer would be comparable to Ned.

But Ned was not at the market today, and she had not seen Ashara today either. Somehow she would have liked it if she ran into her rival again.

Still, Cersei enjoyed her time at the market, taking a look at the goods each merchant offered and tried to sell — some more desperately than others, but that was nothing special.

At some of the stands Cersei actually purchased things, such as a book about the wall and stories from behind it, a book she was sure Tyrion would love to read — especially now that he had met Benjen Stark.

It was easy for her to find things her family members would like. Every time she purchased something, she told the merchant she would come and pick it up with one of the Lannister servants later on. That had been a good decision, as far too quickly she had bought more things that she would ever be able to carry.

When Cersei realized the sun was already going down, she was more than just surprised. The sun setting meant she should hurry back, as her mother would want her to freshen up and change into a different dress for the feast tonight. After all, it was still a feast, and they had to make sure no one forgot who they were.

Cersei quickly spun around to head back to the Lannister camp, but instead she crashed into someone she recognized just from his smell. He reminded her of a forest: grass and trees, freshly cut wood, and a slight hint of smoke.

Without even thinking about it Cersei wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. She liked the warmth that radiated from his body, but it was also a bonus that she could hide the smile that had immediately come onto her face.

“I’m—” he started to say when Cersei interrupted him.

“Don’t be sorry for a hug,” she finally moved a bit away from his chest and looked up at him, not caring that the smile was still visible on her face.

When she felt the young man suddenly stiff and tense, Cersei was worried that she might have said the wrong thing, but after a moment Ned finally moved and returned the hug — even with a small smile, Cersei noted.

“You’re lucky to find me here, I was just about to head back to my family's camp so I can prepare for the feast tonight,” Cersei said and reluctantly let go of Ned.

“I will accompany you on your way back.” Ned’s words surprised Cersei. She hadn’t anticipated he would simply decide he was going to accompany her on the way back instead of asking if she wanted it first — not that she was going to complain about it.

Cersei immediately took Ned’s offered arm and placed her hand close to his, fingertips brushing against the back of his hand.

“We shouldn’t waste anymore time,” was all she said before starting to walk back towards the camp.

The beginning of the walk was silent, but Cersei also didn’t wish to pressure Ned for anything. Last night was still fresh on her mind, and she couldn’t even imagine how much it must be bothering Ned. They had not known each other for long, but she was sure he had never punched his brother before —especially in front of so many important people of Westeros.

“I—” Ned started, and Cersei looked up to him as they were walking along the path. It surprised her how quiet it was. Some squires were sitting under trees and talking or playing cards, and people walked past them from time to time, but it was clear that most were already preparing for the feast.

“You?” Cersei asked after a moment, her green eyes looking into his grey ones while a small encouraging smile came to her lips.

“I know I should wait until tonight, but…” the man next to her took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second before he looked at her again. “It would be my honor if you would share the first dance with me tonight,” he finally finished.

For once it was Cersei who was speechless, just looking up into those grey eyes as she stopped walking. She had anticipated a lot, but not that Ned would ask her for a dance.

“Ned,” she started, but went silent again, somehow she wasn’t able to find the right words in her mind.

“You don’t have to, I would just really like to dance with you,” and there was the insecurity back in Ned. It pained Cersei that he really thought she might not want to dance with him.

“I would love to share the first dance with you Ned,” she quickly said and took hold of his other hand with her free one. “You only made me speechless because I didn’t anticipate that you would ask me, that is why I needed a moment,” her voice was gentle while her thumb moved over the back of his hand. “There is no man I would rather share my first dance with — not a single one, Eddard Stark.”

Ned’s eyes changed from worry to relief — and then a happy warmth — while his lips curled into a smile, and Cersei was sure it was the most handsome smile she had ever seen — so handsome she felt as if butterflies were inside her stomach.

“After last night I thought—” Cersei shook her head as she let go of his hand and placed her index finger on his lips to stop him from talking.

“You did the right thing last night. Even though it wasn’t the proper and expected thing, it was the right thing.” The smile was still on her face as she took a step toward him, their bodies nearly touching again. “And I’m happy — as well as proud — that you did it. Not many men have the courage to stand up to their older brothers, so please don’t worry about it Ned,” she whispered only for him to hear.

“Now let us go back to my camp, before my parents send guards to search for me.” Cersei kept her finger on his lips a moment longer before finally pulling her hand away and turning back towards the path.

They continued their way in a comfortable silence, and all too soon Cersei was sure she could already see the first Lannister banners in the distance.

“There you are Cersei!” A voice suddenly disturbed the quietness of the sunset as a man dressed in crimson red and accompanied by multiple other men walked rather quickly toward them.

“Uncle Kevan,” she said with a smile as the man came to a halt in front of her and Ned.

“Your mother and father were so worried about you. You know there is a feast tonight, and you still need to prepare yourself. What were you doing?” Her uncle did not even pay attention to Ned, who was next to her.

“I—” she began, but Cersei was interrupted by a deep and warm but still strong voice.

“Lady Cersei had been at the market, and I offered to escort her back to her family’s camp when we ran into each other,” Ned surprised not only her with his words, but also her uncle, who only now turned towards him and looked up until green eyes looked into grey ones.

“And who might you be, my lord?” Kevan asked.

“This is Lord Eddard Stark, son of Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra Stark,” Cersei answered faster than Ned could, her hand still resting on his arm as she looked at her uncle.

“So you are Lord Eddard Stark,” her uncle said with a nod. “I have heard about you, and only good things thus far,” the man continued as his attention was completely back on Ned. “And I hope it will stay that way.” With that, her uncle offered his hand to Ned. “I’m Lord Kevan Lannister, younger brother of Lord Tywin Lannister,” and in her mind Cersei added that he was her father’s most trusted advisor — next to her mother, at least.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Kevan,” Ned returned as he took her uncle’s hand and shook it.

“Now I should take my niece from you and bring her back to her parents, as I think your family might also be waiting for you, Lord Eddard,” her uncle said, and Cersei had to stop herself from sighing.

“If Lady Cersei is fine with that?” Ned then asked, to the surprise of her uncle and herself.

“It is all right Ned, we will see each other at the feast. Thank you for escorting me back,” Cersei said as she slowly removed her hand from his arm.

“It was an honor, Lady Cersei, Lord Kevan,” Ned gave a respectful bow, and then he had already turned around to leave.

“An interesting young man,” her uncle said before leading her back to her parents.