AN: First a little clarification of the timeline, there really is only one major change, the rest are all cascading changes from it. Tywin Lannister never sacked King's Landing - if the Lannister forces had been a day or so late then Ned would've gotten there first which meant he would have had to lay siege to the capital and finally the Red Keep. Everything changed from that point on - think ripples on a pond. Also, everyone's about 3-5 years older in this version. I own neither books nor TV show.

A Day Late

By Hikako

Ned Stark's footfalls echoed up and down the empty throne room as he and his vanguard approached the raised dais that supported the Iron Throne. His gaze and gait were both steady as he took in the scene before him, the single knight armored in pristine white enameled armor with his naked bloody steel in his hand as the body of Aerys the Second of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, lay in a congealing pool of his own blood a few steps behind him. The king's emaciated face looked like nothing more than thin dried leather stretched across a skull with large dark circles under both of his heavily sunken eye sockets, yet it still looked slack with the eyes showing a look of shock or bewildering amazement with his mouth opened wide and tongue rolling out like some horrible red slug. Some of his hair had soaked up the blood, turning his sickly yellowish white hair into a dark brown, and already flies were congregating around his body, brought on by the stench of his unwashed flesh and released bowels.

Behind that grisly scene, seated on a small throne normally reserved for queens or heirs, Princess Elia Martell sat clutching her infant son in her arms, a stoic mask and rigid regal posture proclaiming she feared neither Stark nor Lannister. She was dressed in the colors of her house, her gown a mix of orange and yellow with splashes of red, but her infant was swaddled in blackest silk trimmed with red, proclaiming his parentage. Her lustrous black hair was done in a tangle of curls with a jeweled tiara that cascaded across her pale shoulders, her pallid color looking more from her failing health than any fear of enemies or disgust at nearby corpses. Her young daughter, Princess Rhaenys, stood just to her right on the opposite side of her dead good father who, though young, was maintaining a matching look of reservation. She too, like her brother, wore a black silk gown with dragons embroidered in red thread and garnets, and her hair was like her mother's bedecked and pulled away from her face. The only thing that gave away how truly scared the young princess was how tightly she clung to the black kitten in her arms, a mirror image of her mother seated next to her.

Ned and his soldiers stopped about ten feet short of the massacred monarch; their weapons bare as well, and stared down the youngest member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. Taking in the whole scene with his sharp gray eyes Ned searched the face of the man standing before him, the resolute look upon his face and tight grip upon his sword looking for all the world like an actually lion, coiled and ready to pounce on any enemy.

"Lord Stark." the young Lannister coldly said in greeting, his tone betraying nothing.

Ned's eyes never left Jamie's face as he pointed an accusing finger at the rotting king and replied, "The king is dead, Kingsguard. Who has slain the king?" The words echoed across the still air of the throne room, against the marbled columns and the skulls of dragons, and over the heads of the assembled warriors. Somewhere in the back of the Great Hall someone half-shouted "Kingslayer." Followed by a reply from the opposite side of the hall, "Oathbreaker."

Jamie stared right back into Ned's eyes, proud green into sober gray, seemingly to spit his defiance back at the Northern lord. The silence was deafening as well as damning. Far off in the distance Ned could hear crashing and screams as his army moved throughout King's Landing, securing every post of the City Watch. They were also looting, Ned knew, and as much as he might wish to order them not to Ned knew he couldn't stop them. These men had come across half the kingdom, fighting tooth-and-nail to secure this victory, and nothing short of the gods themselves would stop the sacking of King's Landing. Ned gaze drifted to the royal family and back to the knight, before he took one small step forward, while saying "Is it your inten-"

"Take one more step towards the princesses and your blood will join your father's and brother's in the mortar!" The warning cut through the room like a whip as Jamie crouched lower and brought the point of his sword up, leveled at Eddard Stark. Ironically, Ned noted, the blood on the steel trickled off the razor's edge, blood from the king. "The first rebel who seeks to lay a hand on the royal family will find himself missing a hand."

"Bold words, boy." Ethan Glover said, sneering at the white knight. "Plan to chop off your own."

Jamie's look at the young man, who was of an age with him, was equally condescending, but when he spoke his voice betrayed himself with its coldness. "I kept my oath."

There's more here than we know, Ned thought to himself, but what we'll never know. Unless...

"Everyone out."

The order was more unnerving for its spontaneity then for what it meant. Still the veterans, hardened by battles fought across the Seven Kingdoms, were nothing if not obedient and they soon filed out, though neither orderly nor quickly, casting weary glances both at their lord and his opponent.

When the two warriors finally stood alone, facing one another with bared steel, Ned relaxed his shoulders and slowly lifted his blade, only to then turn the tip and ease it into the scabbard at his side. Standing before the knight, his sword sheathed, Ned Stark spread his gloved hands showing the palms in a silent questioning act of truce. After several long moments so too did Jamie relax and almost lazily sheathed his sword as well.

"You stand but a few feet from the dead man you swore to lay down your life for, the man you yourself murdered in cold blood," his tone was accusatory and for that Ned was neither sorry nor capable of controlling it, "and you dare say you kept your oath?"

Jamie's brows knitted as a flash of hurt came across his face, no doubt if Arthur were here the perfect knight would've known what to do and say, but Jamie could do nothing but look at that stern disapproving face and see Dayne's. If Arthur and Jamie had exchanged places, Jamie had no doubt he would've held his oath and found a way to stop the city from going up in flames. Jamie however, he realized as he squared his shoulders, was not Arthur.

"Six months ago, I stood outside a door in this very castle," Jamie began his tone even and controlled, "and I listened to a man raping his wife. She cried out for help, begged, pleaded for mercy, but still I stood there. I asked my brother in arms if we weren't sworn to protect her as well as him, his reply was yes but not from him." Jaime lowered his head and kicked the tip of his boot towards the rotting corpse. "'Let him king over ash and bone.' That's what he said, even though it meant killing his grandson, his son's own heir." Jaime looked at Ned square in the face and said, "He couldn't stand knowing that the last dragon was dead. He couldn't pretend anymore, and his mind broke. He was dead as soon as Robert killed Rhaegar, not even I could've stopped that: so the royal line, the next king and the one after that became my charge." Jaime straightened his shoulders and stuck out his jaw defiantly, let the honorable Stark do what he would with that.

Silence was his answer. It seemed impossible for such a space as the throne room to fill up, but the silence filled it until it became oppressive. A red glow, either from the setting sun or burning houses Jaime couldn't tell, filled the glass windows. Ned's eyes stayed on Jaime's face, though they did flick to the princesses several times, and his furrowed brow deepened every second. Finally, Ned raised his head and said, "We received word the queen and young prince were sent to Dragonstone... there are more ships in the harbor."

Ned inclined his head to Princess Elia before continuing. "If Your Grace would like a ship can be made ready for departure to Dragonstone... Or if you prefer, one ready for a trip south to Sunspear. I'm sure Prince Doran would be more than happy to welcome his long-absent sister." The porcelain doll of the Martells stood slowly; carefully cradling her child in her arms, and gave Ned Stark a long even look before she answered.

"As Queen Regent, I feel it would be appropriate if my son, the King, were to travel to Dragonstone... the ancestral seat of his house."

The next few days passed quickly, Ned had Aerys' body burnt upon a great pyre in the middle of the courtyard; though he tried to do it with some dignity, the man was a king after all. Just before dusk the following day another army, this one swaddled in crimson, arrived at the city gates and Ned sent a raven to Robert that the 'late Lord Lannister' had arrived. Despite Tywin proclamations of loyalty to Robert, and some fancy lies about wanting to be the first to pay homage to the new king, Ned kept the Lannister army camped outside the walls of the city. Tywin thought he must've been simple not to see his honeyed words for the lies they were. Tywin had hoped to arrive first and sack the city to back up his claims of loyalty. As far as Ned could see he was just a cowardly lion that refused to poke his head out until he knew who would win. The kingslaying son was more honorable than the father, Ned mused.

After his men had had their fill of plunder and rape, Ned set them to work clearing away the burned out buildings and keeping order on the streets. He had also sent some men north and east to outlying port towns, looking for ships, Jaime Lannister wasn't content with taking just one ship, he seemed to have commandeered all the ships in the harbor and sailed them to Dragonstone.

After several tiresome days of listening to Tywin Lannister protest his treatment, Ned decided to get some use out of the army by sending Tywin to collect the surrenders of Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne; also effectively ending the siege of Storm's End. Ned figured Stannis could handle Tyrell and Redwyne; he could handle Lannister as well if need be.

At last Robert and Jon arrived, and with great pomp and ceremony Robert was crowned the first of his name and the first of the Baratheon dynasty. Although while the men feasted and drank, Robert raged: he was absolutely furious about Ned letting the Targaeryan children, or 'dragonspawn,' as he called them go.

In disgust at what his friend had suggested Ned have done with the children, Ned quit the capital and began marching his army home. Although he and a small party of friends did go south to collect his sister...

...

"I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead."

Those ten words were like the start of an avalanche in the mountains, slowly building speed and power as it cascaded down the slopes, until it slammed full force into Ned Stark. Ned had felt as if he had been punched by Robert, it was almost literally staggering the way that his whole world seemed to immediately change. Jon had been as a father to Ned when he was younger and, though cruel events and harsh words had silently festered between them, Ned still cared deeply for the man.

"Jon..." Ned said, trying to keep the pleading out of both his voice and eyes as he looked at his wife. "Is this news certain?"

Catelyn Stark nodded and held out the parchment. "It was the king's seal, and the letter is in Robert's own hand. He says that Lord Arryn has steadily gotten worse the past few months," Cat soldiered on trying not to get caught up in the hurt she saw in Ned's eyes at the thought that neither foster father nor brother had informed the Lord of Winterfell Jon was sick at all. "He lingered at death's door for several days as he tried to conduct the King's business from his sickbed, he wouldn't even allow Lysa or the maesters to give him milk of the poppy to dull the pain. Finally Robert had to order him to rest... and Jon slipped away peacefully in his sleep."

"The man should've died years ago, with a sword in his hand." Ned said sadly but fiercely at the same time, "Not wasting away, swaddled in a feather bed." Though Cat could see the grief in his face his next thought was for her. "Your sister, Lysa," he said, "And Jon's boy. Any word of them?"

"The message only said that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie." Cat said, "I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband's place not hers. Jon's memory will haunt every stone of the place. I know Lysa, she needs the help and support of friends and family in the hour of her grief."

"Your uncle is serving in the Vale, isn't he. I'd heard Jon had named him the Knight of the Gate."

"He is," Cat nodded, "And he will do what he can for her. That is some comfort at least..."

"Go to her," Ned urged, placing his hand upon her knee, "Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs children around him as well, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief."

"Would that I could." Cat said solemnly, "The letter had other tidings in it. The king is riding for Winterfell to seek you out."

It took Ned a moment to comprehend and when he did the darkness lifted from his eyes. "Robert is coming here?" Cat nodded and a smile graced his faced. Cat wished she could share in his joy, but dread was coiled within in her like a snake. It had been nearly three months since the day the men had returned from the execution with six direwolf pups for each child of House Stark, taken from the corpse of a dead mother with a stag's antler in her throat. Catelyn knew this day would come but she couldn't find it within her to say so to her husband, practical Ned Stark who took no heed of signs.

"We should send word to your brother on the Wall," she said, "Ben would want to be here."

"Aye," Ned replied, "I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird." Ned stood up and helped his wife to her feet. "Damnation, how many years has it been? And this is all the notice he gives us. Did the message say how many in his party?"

Ned exuberance was catching and Catelyn allowed herself a small smile as they walked arm in arm back to the castle. "I imagine it's a hundred knights at least, and all their retainers, along with half as many freeriders. A few ladies of the court might come along as well, maybe a few of their children."

"Robert will set an easy pace, for their sakes." Ned said, "Still it's just as well, gives us more time to prepare for his arrival."

"I'd imagine Tywin Lannister would take this opportunity to vie for Hand of the King." Cat replied, "He'll probably want to bring his children along, see if he can't secure a few alliances with marriages. I wonder if he'll let his daughter bring her bastards, Robert's sure to bring his."

Ned grimaced but tried to hide it from his wife, there was no love lost between Stark and Lannister. Tywin had called his banners too late and come to Robert's aid twenty years ago only when victory was assured and none of Robert's stalwart supporters had ever forgotten it. "Well, if the price of the King's company is an infestation of Lannisters and entertaining half the court then so be it."

"Where the King goes, the realm follows." Catelyn replied sagely.

Ned squeezed her hand, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "There must be a feast, of course, with singers, and Robert will want to hunt. I shall send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them on the kingsroad and escort them back. Gods know how are we going to feed them all? On his way already you said? Damn the man, damn his royal hide!"

...

The day of the king's arrival all of Winterfell was abuzz with activity. Every servant, man-at-arms, and member of the Stark household was doing all they could in the hours before the king's arrival, every day chores and long overdue maintenance were seemingly performed at the same time and none in all of Winterfell were idle.

Except the four figures in the training yard.

Ser Gerold Hightower, known as the White Bull many years earlier but now simply as Gerry, stood as straight as a pike on the edges of the combat ring as the two combatants hammered at each other with blunted tourney swords. His face stony and unreadable, his deep-set eyes moved deliberately across the yard, watching each and every servant that walked back and forth with arms loaded with baskets and bushels, his hand sitting seemingly at ease on his sword's pommel. Next to him, sitting on a barrel and sharpening his own blade with a whetstone, was Oz who appeared at ease but was in fact just as watchful as his brother, his eyes hidden behind a curtain of mud-colored hair that was shocked with grey.

"Move your feet." commanded Artie, in a clear voice that could be heard all over the training yard, his opponent danced a few feet backwards before rushing forward hoping to use the extra momentum to deliver a crushing blow. Ser Arthur, though, quickly step-sided the blow and brought the flat of his sword down on his opponent's shoulders.

Jon Snow spent several breaths laying on the ground at Artie's feet before looking up at the Sword of the Morning and declaring, "I yield." in a voice that carried no emotion. Rolling over on his back, Jon clasped the offered forearm and helped to pull himself up. "You're usually a lot quicker, boy," Gerry remarked as Jon stripped off the protective gear and hung it on a nearby rack, "Are you unwell?"

"I'm just not in the mood today, Uncle Gerry." Jon said, trying not to sound petulant or moody, lest the great knights think him overly emotional. They had a habit of looking at each other in a knowing way whenever Jon acted or sounded like a dark cloud was sitting over his head, and Jon could almost hear their silent comments in his head. How like his father he is. Truly he is Prince Rhaegar's son.

Jon hated it every time they did that, hated the reminders of his birth father, and his father's family's mad legacy. Jon much preferred the other moments; the moments when he out-rode and out-shot his cousins and protectors, the times Lord Eddard would give him a small smile and with a faraway look on his face wistfully say 'Your almost half a horse yourself.' Lord Eddard never sounded like that when he spoke to his own sons, in those moments he was Ned the middle brother of Brandon and Lyanna Stark. In those moments Jon wasn't the Last Prince, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he was simply Jon, Lyanna's boy. How Jon wished he could've had Ned Stark for a father, even if it meant he was a bastard he would've preferred Ned to Rhaegar.

Although, he probably would've preferred not to have Lady Stark's ire brought down upon him. In all of Winterfell, in the entire kingdom, only six people in the entire world knew the secret of Jon. The bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark and a camp follower named Wylla, with his three uncles, living and working in the household of Winterfell. Not even Jon's cousins knew the truth, they all thought him their bastard half-brother. Arya called Gerry, Artie, and Oz her 'uncles' too, and Jon was happy to call her 'little sister,' while Rickon and Bran were as close to Jon as real brothers. Even Sansa hugged him and kissed his cheek when she found out Jon and Robb had severely thrashed Theon Greyjoy after he broke her heart. Catelyn Stark was always cautious to keep her distance from Jon, careful to not publicly be seen approving of a bastard, that simply would have raised more eyebrows than anything, but behind closed doors it was different.

Catelyn had been the one to raise Jon, taught him his letters right alongside Robb, and held him was he was feverish and sick, or nursing him back to health. Jon remembered when his tenth nameday when his uncle took him to the godswood and told him the truth of his parentage, Lady Stark had been there. She had dried Jon's tears, put her fingers under his chin and raised his head, and she had told him that he may not have their names, Jon still had their blood. He was just as much a Stark as he had always been, but now it was different because he also was a Targaryen, and that alone meant he had enemies. She had been a pillar for him that day, and Jon had been grateful beyond measure.

Still, Jon wondered what it would be like to be the bastard son of Ned Stark...

...

"Come on, Ned." Gendry yelled over his right shoulder, making sure he could be heard over the banner flapping in the wind over his other shoulder. "Last one to Winterfell has to share quarters with our sisters!" The royal bastards laughed at each as their horses trotted along the king's road, subtly racing each other although as foreriders they should've kept pace with one another, while the royal standards flowed over their shoulders. Edric Storm kicked his left leg out slightly, catching his half-brother in his calf, and laughed loudly when Gendry cursed him.

"You nicked me with your spur, Cloudy!" Gendry Waters cried as he swung his right arm wide, missing Ned's head by a mile, and moving his horse further to the right side of the road. "I meant to," called Ned, "Bull Shit!"

The two of them were known as King's Bastards, both of them illegitimate sons of their royal father Robert Baratheon. King Robert, despite being unmarried and having no legitimate children, was unwilling to pass his crown to any of his natural sons and so while he recognized them both as his children they themselves were not entitled to lands, titles, or crowns. Yet Robert was not without a sense of responsibility or duty... or rather he didn't want to listen to Jon Arryn nag him about responsibility, and so recognized each of his bastard children, as well as helped to provide for them.

Gendry was the oldest boy, born to his mother Melantha who was a blonde whore in King's Landing, and when the Hand of the King learned of his birth and Melantha's subsequent death Jon Arryn sent him to be fostered by Ser Alester Pyne, on Crackclaw Point, a liegeman of House Rykker who's ancient and impoverished line was set to end with Ser Pyne.

Ser Alester was a good, sturdy kind of man, a soldier through and through, who had fought dutifully and expertly on many battlefields from the Stepstones to the Trident and he had been determined to make Gendry a knight of equal skill. Unfortunately, after many years and seemingly endless patience Ser Alester declared Gendry would never be a true knight, although he did knight the boy.

"You're too rigid," Gendry remembered Ser Alester saying, "you're not riding the horse, you're sitting in the saddle." Ser Alester had taken Gendry longsword and lance and put them back on the weapons rack, then. "You keep looking to plant your feet and as bullheaded as you are you won't stop, you're an infantry man to your bone." Returning from the rack, Ser Alester handed Gendry a rectangular tower shield and a studded mace. Since that day, Gendry made Ser Alester beam with pride at every melee.

'Bullheaded' had been Ser Alester's favorite term for Gendry, and so when he was knighted Gendry took his oaken shield and had the three soldier pines on a yellow field of House Pyne paint on it, with a black bull beneath it. The old knight nodded and smiled approvingly at it the next day when he gave Gendry a newly forged spherical mace with jewel-like studs in it and a helm in the shape of a bull's head.

When he was sixteen, Gendry was sent by Ser Alester back to King's Landing to enter his father's service, and there Gendry met his half-brother Edric Storm. Ned, as everyone called him, had been born to a noble family and so been raised and armed in better fashion than Gendry. Also unlike Gendry, Ned was a true horseman who seemed to have born specifically to ride, even at his young age no other squires could match him in the lists. Edric Storm's mother was a noblewoman from House Florent, and their house was renowned for its knights, to honor both his parents young Edric had chosen a red stag crowned with blue flowers on ermine for his sigil even though he was barely 13 and had been knighted less than a month before.

Ned took one look at his older half-brother, in his bull helm, and smiled the cockiest smile any 13 year old ever smiled before decreeing Gendry's nickname was going to be 'Bull Shit.' Gendry, not the quickest wit, took what he could from Ned's surname of Storm and the white of his tunic and called him 'Cloudy'.

Gendry and Ned were inseparable.

In King's Landing Gendry also met his other siblings, Mya Stone and Bella Rivers. Mya was a tough tomboy, who was more at ease on the back of a horse or mule than in a gown. Mya had been in the service of House Arryn in the Vale before her father brought her to King's Landing, as a guide for visitors to the Eyrie, but in the capital she was forced to learn a lady's manners from a septa. Mya hated it, but as the oldest of the King's Bastards she saw it as her duty to set the example, and so became the governess for her younger half-sisters along with two septas. Mya often commented to Gendry, when she and the older siblings enjoyed dinner together, that she preferred to go back to the mules.

Bella was of an age with Gendry, and the first of his half-siblings to meet Gendry although that was an accident. Bella had come from Stoney Sept, where like Gendry's her mother had been a whore, and where before being summoned by their father to King's Landing Bella was employed as serving girl at the same brothel. Bella told Gendry once that if Robert hadn't summoned her she would probably still be in that same tavern. Bella had like Mya been taught how to be a lady, and had served many visiting noblewomen as a maid, but some traits bred true as Mya said.

Gendry had entered the royal stables looking to put his steed away after arriving from Crackclaw Point, a groomsman came up to him tying his britches. He took the reins from Gendry's horse and jerked his head towards the rear of the stables. "She's back there, lad." Gendry had been confused and had no idea who 'she' was, but headed to where he was directed. Along the way he encountered another groomsman, sweating and panting with his tunic untucked, 'Gods be with you, lad' was all the groomsman as he passed and pointed at the last stall. Confused and somewhat apprehensive Gendry entered the stall, only to be shoved roughly against the wall before having his head buried between Bella's large, soft, and very naked breasts. "Ooh, you're a big one!" Bella said, "Wanna fuck the daughter of a king?"

The last word shocked Gendry out of his stupor and his pushed her away. "No!" he exclaimed, "You're my sister!" The four siblings still laughed about it several years later.

Most of the younger King's Bastards were housed in the Red Keep and under the care of two septas and Mya. Mya, however unlike the septas, didn't stay overnight with them in the Keep. Instead she, Gendry, Edric, and Bella (when she wasn't serving some guest) stayed at lodger's house nearby. The foursome often broke their fast and ate supper together.

Today though, Gendry and his brother Ned were foreriders on the kingsroad. Behind came their father, the Kingsguard, half the royal court, and in the back of the baggage train Cersei Lannister rode in carriage attended by Bella, while Mya tended to Cersei's twin daughters... both of whom had black hair and blue eyes.