So, this came about during a Jet lag induced state on a return flight from Spain. It's a little different from my usual stuff, but the idea was persistent and I needed something to keep my sane during the 10 hour flight. Let me know what you think!
There was an unusual chill in the air around Riverrun. The wind seemed to carry it from the North, a breeze with a sharp bite that cut straight to the bone of any unfortunate soul who found themselves exposed. The various farmers and fishermen who toiled away in the spaces that surrounded the ancient Tully home were certain to be threatened by it and any omen it may have foretold, a common thing for the peasants, prone as they were to the typical superstitions that ruled their meagre lives.
Jon Arryn, looking out over the Red Fork river from the window of Hoster Tully's solar, couldn't care less. He rarely gave thought to any world beyond the one which he currently inhabited, and even then only when he needed to uphold tradition for his more pious bannermen. In many ways he was not a deeply religious man, but even he could not help but wonder why such a sudden bout of tragedy could strike people so utterly undeserving of it. The Starks had been friends of his for nigh on twenty years and it seemed that tragedy fell upon them almost as often as the snows that littered their homeland. Perhaps they are cursed...
Hoster Tully picked up a cup of wine that a servant had left on his oak desk, then took a thoughtful and irritatingly loud sip, before sitting back in his seat. He observed the furrowed brow of his guest with affection and sympathy. "Alright Jon, you've been brooding long enough. Even my considerable talents as a host have their limits. What's troubling you?"
Jon's mind was elsewhere, trying to muscle out the best possible way to explain what had recently come to his attention. With a deep sigh, he decided to simply cut to the heart of the matter. "It's about Rickard,"
"Ah," Hoster sobered at once. "What's happened now?" He took another sip of wine before glancing around at the parchments that littered his desk, "Cat hasn't sent word of anything amiss..."
"I wouldn't have expected her to," Jon replied quietly. "It's more of a personal matter between Rickard and one of his sons," he raised a hand to silence Hoster's protest, "It's not Brandon, if that's what you're concerned about. No, I'm talking about Eddard , the lad I've been fostering at the Vale."
There was a pause and Hoster regarded him curiously for a moment before a look of sympathy settled over the Tully's face. Silently judging Jon's soft heart. "It's not easy to raise children. The Seven know I've had my fair share of struggles, but really it's just about taking them to task. What did the lad do to upset Rickard?"
Jon looked him coldly in the eye. " If you knew Ned, you wouldn't be so quick to assume that he was the cause of the dispute. He's spent his life honouring his house and his duty to his father, but now..." He gave a sign." Now the lad has found himself in love and contrary as that might be to Rickard's ambitions, Ned won't back down."
A frown settled across Hoster's face. "It is the duty of every good son to obey their father,Jon. You know the words of my House, 'Family, Duty, Honour.' There is no reason why young Stark should shirk his duties, not when his father and liege gives him a command." He grimaced, and waved the argument away. "But I can tell that this is bothering you so get it off your chest."
"It started at that damned Tourney," Jon said, feeling twice his age. " Before it went to tragedy, before Lyanna Stark got herself killed trying to play at being a Tourney knight, Ned must have met this girl, one of Princess Elia's own ladies in waiting. I won't get into the details of the courtship, but the boy assures me that the they're quite in love and has resolved to marry her."
Hoster scratched at the red stubble on his jaw. "A lady from court?" He smirked at the notion. "I applaud the lad for his ambition."
"Yes, well Rickard doesn't share your enthusiasm," grumbled Jon. "He was hoping to have a match found in the Westerlands, or perhaps in the Reach to compensate for not being able to join his House with the Baratheons. They had an argument within my very own keep, Hoster, and I bore witness to the full and ugly truth of it. Things were said that night that I fear may not be unsaid and neither Stark has spoken to each other since. Rickard made it quite clear that if Ned went through with his marriage that he would no longer be welcome in the North." He rubbed at the ridge of his nose in weariness. "Now it is a conflict between father and son. My old friend or the boy I love as a son...which am I to choose?"
The Lord of Riverrun sat in contemplation for a time, his face guarded from the world. Even as he finally spoke, which was slow and considerate, his expression did not change. "Do you think there is any chance of convincing the lad to change his mind on this business with the girl? Boys that age think with their cock more often than their brains."
Jon shook his head with conviction. "Ned Stark is not like that at all. He's intelligent and somber in every matter of life, including such as that. In truth I think the boy worships honour as a god more than he does any Weirwood. No. When he says that he feels for this girl, I do not take his words lightly."
"And yet," needled Hoster, "You still chastise yourself for not supporting Rickard in this matter."
"I grieve for Rickard and all that he has lost. To lose his wife and to raise his children without her was burden few would have been able to take on as well as he did, but to lose a daughter as well, just when her life was starting?" Jon shook his head mournfully. "It is a cruel fate, and made the man all the harder towards the world for it. His grief and the grief his son share are deeply felt things. This conflict is born from that and if he is not careful he might lose yet another child."
There was a whirlwind inside of Hoster's blue eyes, an old pain briefly flaring up again. "I have never lost a grown child, but I do know what it is to lose a wife. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Cat to help with the little ones back then."
"But you survived," Jon insisted. "You have three children and from what I've heard, a grandchild on the way. Life goes on. Rickard is just making it worse for himself."
Hoster frowned. "And what will happen if you side Rickard and he does disown this boy?"
"He'll have to go begging as Hedge Knight," Jon said brutally. "None of the Northern Lords would dare go against their liege by taking him in and even the Dornish wouldn't accept a penniless knight amongst their ranks, especially not with a family as famed as House Dayne. He is a good and sensible lad, but he has too much honour for his own good. I fear that he would not last long amongst the thieves and murderers that haunt the roads and villages of the South. Perhaps he could get a position with a sellsword company, though how long someone of Ned's integrity would last amongst such company as that I couldn't tell you." Jon looked defensively into the clear blue, comprehending eyes of the Lord of Riverrun. " Do you see my point, Hoster? If I go with Rickard on this I'd be throwing away this boy's life, but if I side with him I'd most certainly losing a friend and creating an enemy with the North."
Hoster Tully sat back. He looked out of the window and sipped thoughtfully on his wine. He liked Jon Arryn, and while he was mistrustful of the young, he respected Jon's opinion enough to gain some measure of sympathy for the young Stark. Letting out a deep sigh he turned back to Jon with a weary look. "You should help the boy in whatever way you can. I don't know what's to be done about it, but my advice would be that you follow your instincts. This lad is like a son to you, that's clear enough. Be a father to him."
There was a certain beauty about the Vale that stood out as wholly unique in the Seven Kingdoms. Ned Stark was not a native to the place, yet it had served as his home for years and despite the pull of the North ever present in his blood, not even Winterfell could compare to the vast spectacle of the mountainous landscape that rolled out before. When standing at the Eyrie it was as if one was at the top of the world, looking down as only birds and the dragons of old could.
Until recently Ned Stark had been oblivious to all notions of worldly beauty and the appreciation one could experience from having gazed at them. But that had all changed. He now took the time to keep such things in his mind, to retain the details of the beautiful places around him that had given him so much joy in the last few years of his life. The cause of this new way of thinking was twofold; first, he knew that his time at the Vale was very likely to be at its end and that once Jon had finished settling in from his trip to Riverrun Ned would be forced to either return to Winterfell or make his way south as an exile. The second reason for his changed state of mind was at once much simpler and a thousand times more complicated. He had fallen in love.
He had met Ashara during the most painful time of his life, the Tourney of Harrenhall where all of the dominating forces of his life seemed to collide and merge together in a tempest. His family had come down, preparing for Brandon's wedding to Catelyn Tully and to better acquaint Lyanna with Ned's best friend Robert Baratheon in light of their betrothal. They were joined by the family of sorts Ned had made amongst the Knights of the Vale and the Arryn household as everyone across the Kingdoms gathered to see Lord Whent's display of opulence. The royal family had even deigned to grace the event with their presence, and with them came the most beautiful woman Ned had ever seen. It had been at his older brother's prodding and meddling that Ned was actually introduced to the beautiful Violet-eyed Dornish girl that accompanied Princess Elia. She was interesting and sparky, with a fierce confidence and surety that Ned had rarely seen before. Though he had certainly tripped over his words, she seemed interested in what he had to say, her eyes were filled with an expression of honesty that intrigued him to no end. It had been a revelation, as if he had gone through life with his eyes closed and his ears covered to the true beauty of the world. Even as he was struck with unimaginable grief, Ashara's love had been the thing that saved him from drowning in his misery.
With a deep breath Ned turned and made for the warmth of the castle. A knight, resting the knobby stumps of his fingers on the pommel of his sword, gave him a half-hearted smile as he approached. "Lord Arryn wishes to see you in his solar, lad. He's been asking everywhere for you."
"Thank you, Ser."
He strode unhurriedly to Jon's solar, taking his time admire and memorise all the little quirks of the Eyrie for it was surely to be his last time seeing them. He was on his way up the stairs when he caught one of the serving girls making her way down, a young woman named Becca. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and said calmly, "Lord Jon is waiting for you Ned, best not to keep him waiting."
"Is everything alright?" He asked in a soft voice full of concern. "Has something happened?"
Becca bit down on her lower lip. "I asked Lord Jon permission to leave his service and go south, so that I might take my Mya to Storm's End with Robert when he gets sent away." Her eyes glittered with more unshed tears. "He refused."
Ned nodded, realising at once what had happened. Becca had been one of the many girls Robert had taken a liking to, but unlike the others she had born him a bastard daughter and seemed convinced that she could follow Robert around and live as his mistress. Ned felt a swell of pity for her; she was a gentle woman who treated others with nothing but kindness, and she was chasing a fool's hope in thinking that she could find a better life with Robert.
He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You needn't worry, Robert won't be going anywhere. It is me that Jon is angry with. Robert's place here will be secure."
Becca looked up at him with a sad smile. "I'm sure you'll be fine too. If you can keep yourself looking presentable at least," she went about wiping the flakes of snow off his cloak and he docilely allowed her to smooth out his hair that had become a mess from the mountain winds. She gave him a final smile before going on her way.
When he finally came to Jon's solar Ned squared his shoulders and looked at the oak door, behind which he had spent so much of his time looking for wisdom and advice. Tentatively he reached forward, took a breath, and opened the door. Jon was sitting at his desk as usual, his head resting in one hand as he read some letter. He looked exhausted from his travels, and his desk was stacked with parchment and letters he had yet to open. His blue eyes lifted from the desk up and to Ned, softening slightly.
"Ah, Eddard," he said in a light voice. "Please, come sit down. We have much to discuss."
Ned took his usual seat in the chair across from his mentor, suddenly feeling like a boy in his lessons tried to read something in the old Vale lord's face, but it was as impassive as the cold stone of the wall behind him.
"Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?" He asked, softly.
"I could guess," Ned took a breath. "You're sending me back to my father. In which case, I refuse. "
The old man's brows drew together as his face became a stern frown. "And what exactly would you do then? In this world second sons are entirely dependent on the grace of their fathers, and if you disobey Lord Rickard there will be none coming your way. You'd have to live on the road as hedge knight or a common sellsword. You'd likely die penniless in a ditch somewhere." He looked at Ned carefully. "Is this Dayne girl worth it?"
Ned did not hesitate for an instant. "Yes."
Jon's stern expression melted away at once, replaced by a wide smile that he seemed unable or unwilling to suppress. "That's exactly what I needed to hear. I won't have to worry about my gold going to waste."
Eddard was dumbfounded, and a swell of confusion passed through him. "I...I don't understand?"
"I would be a heartless man to force you to return North, and a foolish one if you let you run off on your own without any thought of the consequences." Jon leant forward on his desk. "I don't agree with your father, but I cannot openly defy him in the matter of his own son." He held up a hand to silence Ned's concern. "But, that has not stopped me from making other arrangements for you. I have spoken with Lady Ashara's older brother and we've reached a compromise, which mostly came from the young lady singing your praises and me verifying them. In any case you'll be leaving for Dorne on the morrow."
"Dorne?" Ned asked in a faint voice.
"Yes. I can't keep you here, as much as I'd like to. Your father would take it as a slight and the last thing the Vale needs is a damned conflict with the whole of the Lord Dayne is willing to host you at Starfall until such time that a keep of your own can be built." Jon shrugged artlessly. "When that will happen, I can't say. You'll be living with House Dayne for at least a year, and as such I expect you to behave with the utmost respect towards them. It'll be my good name on the line as well as your own."
Ned sat in stunned silence, taking the news in. He felt his heart thumping, the blood rushing to tips of his fingers. His thoughts raced as he dissected the news, trying to make sense through the pure joy and excitement he felt. Something came to him, a glaring fact that threatened to extinguish his happiness. "I haven't the coin to possibly repay them. A Keep would not come cheap."
Jon did something Ned had never seen him do before, he blushed in embarrassment. "You needn't worry," he gave a weak laugh. "I took care of the matter."
"Jon," he frowned in shame and guilt. "This isn't a small matter...you shouldn't have done that."
"Listen here Ned, if you were in the North it would be your father's duty to provide you and your new bride with a home to live in. I know that I will not replace your father, but..." The Warden of the East's voice caught slightly, his eyes gaining a glassy sheen. "To me you have come to be like...the son I never had. You and Robert both have brought me more happiness than you can ever know, and for an old man without any family...that is something worth far more than gold or silver."
Ned struggled, trying desperately to hold back tears that we're building and threatening to spill forth. What this man was doing for him was one of, if not the greatest act of kindness he had ever received. "Thank you, Jon," he croaked out.
Before Jon could respond the doors of the solar swung open and heavy boots stamped across the stone floor as Robert marched up to the desk. The Lord of Storm's End was young but had already inherited the height and build that his family were well known for. His deep blue eyes were ablaze, his large Baratheon jaw jutted out in rage as he regarded Jon.
"I won't let you do it," he declared in a booming voice, slapping a hand on Ned's shoulder. "If you're forcing Ned to leave then I'm going too! He can come live with me at Storm's End, and to the Seven Hells with anyone who tries to say otherwise!"
Jon blinked in stunned surprise for a moment, looking up at the second of his foster sons before breaking out into a sharp bark of laughter. The old man's whole body shook with trembling waves from the effort of it. Robert looked confused, and turned to Ned for help.
"I'm not being forced to go back North, Robert," he explained. "Jon is sending me to Dorne, to get married. It's all been arranged...I'll be with House Dayne until I can build a keep of my own. Ned smiled up at his friend. "He's helping me Robert."
The Baratheon looked shocked for a moment before his face quickly took on a sterner expression, as if he had just been informed that he was being sent to fight a war against a horde of Wildlings. "Right, well. Dorne...When do we leave?"
Jon Arryn frowned. "We?"
"Aye, I'd not miss my friend's wedding for anything," Robert slapped Ned's shoulder again. "Besides, think of all the Dornish beauties I'd be missing out on. No, I'm going with Ned and that's final. It'll be a grand adventure that they'll be talking about in every tavern across the realm."
The Lord of the Eyrie sat back in astonishment before throwing his hands in the air. "Fine, you can go too. But for the love of the gods stay out of trouble." He looked pointedly at Ned. "And just remember, it's not every day that you get to start a new life."
