Prologue 1 – The Tourney at Storms End
Hi guys, this is the first fanfiction that I'm posting here, it's an AU that started before Robert's rebellion, that asks what happened if Ned met Ashara before the tourney at Harrenhal? Seeing as both Robert and Arthur Dayne attended the tourney at Storm's End some three years before that, I guessed that Ned and Ashara might accompany the two respectively. So, what happened if they met? And good old Ned had the balls to do something? The next chapter will focus on the revised events of the Harrenhal tourney in 281, and then, prologue 3 will cover the changes to Robert's Rebellion, before the actual story begins at the same time as canon ASoIaF. I'll be using a mix of book canon, show canon, and 'I think this is cool I'm putting it in' AU headcanon, but I'll mostly follow the books in regards to the main things, e.g. Asha not Yara, ages of the Stark kids and so on. The next chapter will come when I finish it, which will hopefully be soon but could really be anytime, as unfortunately, school comes first.
278 AC
Eddard I
Ned Stark was tired. Storms End was the furthest south he had ever been, and, despite the realm being in the beginnings of autumn, he was sweating. He had long ago abandoned his cloak, loosened his tunic, and chosen to hold his tongue when his friend, Robert, complained of the 'cold'. Truly, southern winters could be warmer than northern summers.
Now almost a man at the age of 15, he had left the Eyrie, the castle where he had lived almost half his life, to accompany his friend Robert Baratheon, and foster father Jon Arryn, to the tourney at held Storms End, the castle to Robert would rule one day. Robert was eager to see his mother and father again, the Lord and Lady Baratheon, Steffon and Cassana, it having been some years since he had seen them.
Ned was less eager to attend the tourney, and while he could not say he regretted coming, the heat of the south and weeks in the saddle made him consider it. And, unlike Robert who could not wait to grab the nearest lance and partake in the joust, Ned had no desire to join in with what his father, Lord Rickard Stark, called 'playing at war'. The North did not hold jousts like the South did, on the rare occasions when the Northern Lords gathered to demonstrate their martial prowess, the melee was the main event.
However, there was no melee to be held this time, so Ned would be content to watch from the stands, and no doubt drag the inebriated form of his friend back to his rooms after each day. While Ned debated what he would be spending most of his free time doing, Robert rode up beside him. Already over 6 feet tall, muscled and broad-shouldered with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, the Baratheon Lordling cut a figure that was both imposing to his enemies, and alluring the many serving girls he came across. Combined with his boisterous and charismatic nature, Ned often wondered if there was a girl in the castle that his friend hadn't bedded.
By contrast, the second son of Rickard Stark was thinner, though just as tall, with dark brown hair, though he had not yet begun to develop a beard. His eyes were the characteristic Stark grey, positioned within the typical long face, and though young Eddard was far from unattractive, he did not have quite the effect of Robert on girls. In personality, Ned was just about as far from Robert as it was possible to be, a quiet and reserved boy, he spoke not to fill silence, but only when he had something worthwhile to say, and while it gained him no midnight rendezvous with the serving maids, it already made men twice his age stop and consider his words.
"What a sight, don't you say Ned?" Robert said, steadying his horse to Ned's pace, "better than Winterfell?"
"Mayhaps," Ned replied, while Winterfell was certainly larger than Storms End, the curving pale grey walls of the Baratheon castle were built over uneven ground, and in some places dropped into the pounding waters of ship breaker bay, and he said as much to Robert.
"Seven Hells Ned, you don't have to be so bloody diplomatic all the time, you are allowed to show some pride in your home, you know! Besides, legends have it they were both built by the same hands anyway, the first Stark King helped to first Storm King to make his castle stand against the sea."
"Aye, if the myths are true."
"What do you think then? You've seen both castles, think they're made by the same hand?"
Ned carefully examined the walls of Storms End, they curved rather than ran straight like the walls of his birthplace and the stones were clearly different, but the inner towers still held similar designs to the many buildings of Winterfell, and each stone block had the kind of perfected shape the could only be achieved by the kind of magic now lost to man.
"Could be, aye," he responded, "both castles are certainly beyond anything we could build today."
They had now reached the edge of the camps, which displayed banners from all across the Stormlands and Crownlands, with many lords attending from both Dorne and the Reach as well. So far as Ned could tell, his Dire wolf standard was the only banner from the North. Camped closest to the walls of the castle, was the three-headed dragon, the royal family.
"Think the King is here?" Robert mused.
"Unlikely," Jon Arryn, the boys' foster father replied, riding up to join their conversation, "the King has not left the Red Keep since the incident at Duskendale last year. It is most likely the crown prince who will be competing today."
"Hmm, we'll see if he's any good later this week then," Robert replied and urged his horse faster towards to gate.
"I suppose we shall, though do be careful Robert, besting the Prince is fine, I daresay he will appreciate the challenge from one as talented as yourself," Robert preened under Jon's praise, "but mind you do not injure or humiliate him, he will be King one day, after all."
"I'm sure Robert will remember to mind his lance," Ned quickly interjected with a pointed glare when it looked like Robert was going to make unwise comments about the Prince's jousting ability, the man had no sense of propriety, and this was before he was into his cups.
Choosing to thankfully hold his tongue, for now, Robert led the party into the castle and prepared to greet his parents.
Days later, Ned found himself in the stands overlooking the tourney field, Robert was jousting today, and had already unseated many of the hedge knights who had entered into the competition, and a few of the highborn knights, though he had yet to joust with his cousin the prince. Privately, Ned thought he was unlikely to, though he dare not mention this to Robert. Before facing the Prince, Robert would have to ride against Ser Barristan Selmy, a knight of the Kingsguard, who was quickly proving himself to be one of the main contenders in the competition, unseating Leyton Hightower, Jason Mallister and Oberyn Martell of Dorne. Prince Rhaegar had already bested Robert's father, Steffon Baratheon, who took the defeat gracefully, and skilled mystery knight, who had disappeared after.
The next major tilt, in a few matches time, would pit the Prince against Ser Arthur Dayne, the legendary Sword of the Morning. Ned idly wondered if the Kingsguard knight would throw the match in favour of his prince, as many Lords would ask, or if Rhaegar would want to win on his own merit alone. From what little he knew of the Prince, though, Ned thought that the heir would be insulted if his opponent were to purposeful lose.
"My Lord," a drawling voice interrupted Ned's musing, and looked up for the source of the voice, "is this seat taken?"
The young Stark lord was momentarily struck dumb by the sight before him, a beautiful young woman stood before him, her face given a blinding halo from the sun, which was shining through her black hair, framing hair face perfectly. Though Ned could not distinguish many of the features of her copper coloured face through the light, he could tell that it would be considered a face of great beauty. Ned would have compared the sight to that of the Maiden herself, had he followed the Andal Faith of the Seven.
"I... my Lady..." blinking to clear his eyes of both the blinding light of the sun and the beautiful vision of the woman before him, Ned attempted to stammer out a response, "no... no, um, this seat is not taken. Would you, um, like to sit?"
"Yes, thank you, my Lord," she replied, smoothing her skirts and taking a seat, and smiling at him. Ned cursed himself for not having Robert's ways with women, he had no idea if she was generally happy to talk with him, or merely mocking his inexperienced responses. "Will you be jousting later?"
Ned took a moment to compose himself and wonder how to answer. Southron women were notoriously trickier with their words than those of the North, and the Dornish, as the Lady's copper skin identified her as, were reportedly even more so. Would she look down at him for not partaking in the sport, or admire his stance on refusing to bow to societal pressure? He had no idea. Robert would though. Failing to quickly dredge up any sort of answer that he felt might present himself in a positive light to this mystery lady, Ned chose to resort to what Robert called 'good old blunt Northern honesty'.
"No, my Lady, I do not joust."
She blinked, seemingly taken aback by his abrupt rebuttal, before quickly recovering, and lavishing Ned with another dazzling smile.
"Truly? I have always thought that all young handsome lords such as yourself would be eager to battle on the tiltyard?" Ned's ears coloured at the compliment, handsome, he thought, before realising the Lady was waiting for an answer.
"Few men of the North joust my Lady," he responded, and suddenly her eyes lit up as if she had just solved a very interesting puzzle.
"Ah ha!" she said triumphantly, "so you are from the North? You are a long way from home?" Now it was Ned's turn to blink in surprise, most people recognised his gruff accent common as Northern instantly, though he supposed that all Common must sound gruff compared to the smooth drawl of the Dornish.
"Aye, my friend is jousting today."
"My brother is as well, he should be coming out soon."
"Has he fared well so far?" Ned asked, hoping not to be viewed as boring company.
"Yes, few of his matches have lasted more than one tilt, though he says that they were not much competition, I confess I was quite unable to tell."
"A trait we share my Lady, my friend has, on many occasions, attempted to teach me what to look for in a good jouster, though I continue to base my predictions of the options of others."
"Have you no desire to learn?" the Lady asked.
"No," responded Ned, hoping he did not sound too curt, "my father calls it playing it war," he explained.
"Playing at war?" she sounded confused, rather than offend on her brother's behalf, which was good Ned supposed.
"Aye, cavalry should be flanking your opponent, and attacking men on foot. If you have mounted knights charging each other, then you need a new commander," the Stark Lord responded, starting to relax in the woman's presence.
"I should like you to meet my brother sometime," she responded smiling, "I'm sure you would have many interesting discussions."
"If he is anything like yourself, I am sure I would be delighted to speak with him my Lady," Ned said, hoping it was at least a passable imitation of Robert's suave manner.
"Thank you, my lord," she responded, rewarding Ned with a small blush, "Here comes my brother now," pointing to the field where the next set of knights were readying their mounts. He had missed several jousts while he had been speaking with the mysterious Lady who had joined him. Ned just about managed to maintain his calm demeanour when he saw who was preparing next, at one end of the tiltyard stood the Crown Prince himself, dressed in midnight black armour, with the red three-headed dragon sewn onto to his doublet. Knowing that the prince had no sisters, he turned to the other legendary knight that stood ready on the field; the Sword of the Morning.
He glanced back at who he now knew was Ashara Dayne and saw what he missed the first time he looked at her face, the beautiful violet eyes. Outside of the Targaryens and other houses of Old Valyria, the Daynes were the only Westerosi house to exhibit the rare purple eyes. Ned could now confirm for himself that the rumours about Lady Dayne's legendary beauty were true, and, if he was honest, perhaps the tale did not do her justice.
Ashara smiled slightly at Ned, and he knew that is sudden realisation had not gone unnoticed. Hoping to somewhat salvage what was left of his dignity, he turned back to watch the joust.
Both parties were now ready and were being handed their lances by their squires. Silence descended on the yard as both riders readied their mounts, before charging down the lanes towards each other. They met in the middle, and both lances hit true, breaking with a resounding crack. To his left, Ned heard Ashara take in a small breath, which she released when she realised her brother was unharmed.
The riders again returned to their squires to collect new lances, while talking started up again briefly around the stands, as men complemented the riding, or exchanged gold as they lost and won bets. The knights clashed again and again, and the excitement in the stadium grew. Ned thought he could hear Robert's boisterous shouting from somewhere down below, but his attention was more focussed on Ashara, who seemed to grow more anxious with every tilt. He wished he could say something to ease her worry, Robert or Brandon would know exactly what to say to reassure her, but Ned, who was hopeless with both girls and jousting, could only sit in silence.
Eventually, on the twelfth lance, the bout ended. Ser Arthur's horse shifted, and his lance hit at an angle, while the Prince struck true, and the Dornish knight was sent flying from his mount and hit the dirt. The stands erupted in noise, as people either celebrated the victory of the Prince or lamented the loss of the Kingsguard's deadliest swordsman. Ashara suddenly grabbed Ned's hand, as she stared intently at her brother's form on the ground. Unsure of what to do to ease the Lady's death grip, Ned begun to rub small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, hoping that it would do something to help.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only a few heartbeats, Ser Arthur stirred, quickly standing to the roaring crowd, graciously accepting his defeat with nothing wounded but his pride. By Ned's side, Ashara let out a breath, and slackened her grip slightly, looking back at him with a slightly shaky smile.
"Artie is forever telling me he will be fine, and he always is of course, but that does not stop me from worrying," she said.
"I always wonder whether Robert will one day land on something as stubborn as he, but for the moment at least he has proved that he is less yielding than dirt the seven kingdoms over," Ned responded, and Ashara laughed at his quip, while Ser Arthur and Prince Rhaegar led their horses back off the yard.
Suddenly, Ashara stood, still clutching Eddard's hand.
"Come," she said, somewhere between a command and a plea, "I said I should like you to meet my brother."
Ned blinked, once again finding himself staring up at the Dayne beauty, considered refusing. Robert was jousting soon, and Ned had never really walked much with women who were not his mother or sister without prompting. Would Robert not be upset if Ned was not watching him joust? Then again, Ned thought, as he gazed at Ashara's smooth burnished skin, beautiful violet eyes, and shiny dark hair, and figured Robert would be more annoyed if he turned down an invite from such a beautiful woman. Besides, meeting the Sword of the Morning was practically a once in a lifetime opportunity in itself.
"I would be honoured, my Lady," he replied, standing.
Ned and Ashara met Ser Arthur outside the stands, with Ashara unhooking her arm from the crook of his elbow to run at her brother.
"Artie!" she cried, "you scared me!" Arthur turned to his sister and laughed, accepting the enthusiastic hug from her.
"I always scare you, Ash," he replied, chuckling, "besides, Rhaegar would never forgive himself if he hurt me, his heart is far too good for that." Ashara laughed slightly at that as well and hugged her brother tighter.
"And all the same I shall continue to worry whenever you enter these fool's contests, brother," she replied.
"Fool's contests?" Arthur asked, "with whom have you been speaking, sister?" Thankfully, Ned thought, he sounded more amused than angry. Ashara smiled at her brother and gestured to Ned.
"Brother may I introduce..." she trailed off, and Ned released that not once during their conversations, both at the stands and between then and now, had either of them actually introduced themselves. Ned had deduced Ashara's identity from her comments about her brother, but Ned had neither given his name nor made any identifying remarks.
"Eddard Stark, Ser," he announced, "of Winterfell." Ashara's eyes widened slightly, while he had said he was Northern, she was clearly not expecting him to be a son of the North's paramount house. Arthur too seemed surprised and said as much.
"Stark?" he questioned, "I did not think the North was represented at this tourney, especially one so far south."
"I travelled with the Arryn host," Ned replied, "I am fostered at the Eyrie."
"Ah, with Lord Arryn, he is a good man," Arthur replied, now realising that had not, in fact, missed a whole section of the camp.
"Aye," Ned confirmed, "he is."
"So," Arthur said, "I hear you have been trying to turn my sister against me, perhaps you hope to compete in a tournament without me?" Luckily, a childhood spent with Brandon, who loved nothing more than to tease all his siblings about anything and everything, allowed Ned to recognise the words as a friendly barb, rather than a serious accusation, and he responded in kind.
"I do not joust, good Ser, so your retirement would not aid me. My concern was more for that of your sister, I fear if I ever sit with her when you joust again, I shall lose the use of my hand." Arthur laughed, and Ashara blushed, looking slightly guilty.
"I am grateful for you to calm my sister while I am riding, and this is not the first time I have heard of Ashara's strong grip." The Lady in question appear to blush deeper, and Ned thought that it looked quite pretty on her. "So young Eddard, it appears you have made quite the impression upon my sister, and I must do something for you in return for keeping her company this afternoon?"
Ned considered a moment before responding, he was not some excited young Southron squire who would throw himself at the feet of the famous knight and beg for the honour to polish his armour, yet he was just 15, and could not help but feel slightly awed at the favour Ser Arthur was offering him.
"I have heard tales of your fights against the Kingswood brotherhood in the Vale, yet I fear they do not do your deeds justice, I should like to hear the story from your lips." Ned paused again, considered whether his next request would be pushing his luck, "And it would be my honour to spar with you."
Ashara laughed, "if you want an accurate account of Artie's heroics you should ask one of his sworn brothers, Arthur is far too humble to take much credit himself."
Arthur chuckled at his sister's needling but gestured for Ned to walk on.
"Come," he said, "I am most interested to see your skill with a sword in hand, young Stark, and while we walk I shall tell you of the Smiling Knight." And with that, Ser Arthur offered his arm to his sister, who declined and linked with Ned instead, much to his surprise, and relief, it had been nice to walk with Ashara and led them towards a training ring, whilst he began, with gusto, explaining the skill and cruelty of his foe.
Some hours later, Ned returned to his quarters in Storms End. After hearing Arthur's modest account of his actions in the Kingswood, the two had fought with blunted blades, with Ashara as an audience. While Ned had been utterly defeated in every bout, Arthur had been nothing bit complimentary, making several suggestions to his foot and blade work, and saying he would be a force to be reckoned with once he had finished growing.
After giving some final pieces of advice, Arthur had taken his leave, and returned to the Targaryen camp, to speak to the Prince, the final joust would be tomorrow, and Arthur wanted to know who he would be facing. Ned had then mustered up the courage to ask Ashara to walk with him, and, to his delight, he found her easy to talk to, even if the way she had clutched at him when she tripped had made his heart beat faster, and his mind fog up.
Eventually, however, he had escorted her back to her quarters and then returned to find a somewhat irate and pacing Robert waiting for him.
"Ned!" he shouted, "where were you? I looked for you in the stands!"
"Did you win?" Ned asked, slightly taken aback by the force in Robert's greeting.
"No, Selmy unhorsed me, but never mind that, where were you, Ned? Even Jon was starting to worry!" the Stormlord groused.
Ned felt slightly guilty at the thought of worrying Jon Arryn needlessly, he probably ought to have told someone where he was going. "I was with Lady Dayne," he replied.
Robert stopped where he stood, and his faced morphed from anger into confusion and then to shock. "Lady Dayne, as in Ashara Dayne?" Ned nodded, and Robert suddenly laughed, stepping forward to clap Ned on the back, "Ned Stark!" he cried, "with Ashara Dayne! I was beginning to think you didn't have it in you!" Ned's face heated up, both embarrassed and insulted at the insinuation.
"We talked Robert," he said shortly, annoyed at the implication of him dishonouring her, "walked, talked and she introduced me to her brother."
"Her brother!" Robert said, still excited, though thankfully now off the topic of what Ned did or did not do with the maiden, "you talked to Arthur Dayne!" Ned nodded again, and Robert gestured to a nearby chair, "sit Ned! Sit, you must tell me all about this, Brother and Sister both!" Ned hesitated slightly, before sitting down and beginning his story.
The next day, Ned and Robert sat with Ashara and her brother, and watched as Ser Barristan unhorsed Rhaegar, and lacking a Lady wife, celibate as the Kingsguard was, crowned his host, Lady Cassana, as Queen of Love and Beauty. When it came to the feast, Ned was careful to place both Arthur and himself between Ashara and Robert, eventually foisting the inebriated Stormlander off to Jon and his father, before enjoying another night of engaging conversation with Ashara.
A few days later, as the various parties began to leave, Ned left with Jon and Robert back to the Eyrie, leaving Ashara with a small broach he had commissioned, with help from Robert, from the Storms End blacksmith, and a promise to send a raven. Ned was sad to leave her behind, though Robert had laughed and said that now Ned had finally had a taste of courtly love, there were plenty of ladies back in the Vale.
Jon, however, seeing that Ned was more like to stay faithful than Robert, promised him full use of the rookery, and reassured him that there would soon be another tourney in which they could both attend. Thus, for the first time, Ned found himself looking forward to Robert dragging him along to another joust.