i) Eddard

It had been such a beautiful morning over Blackwater Bay, the early light setting the water ablaze with orange fire. As the bluebirds and blackbirds sung, the residents of the city stirred from their rest and attempted to ignore the signs of a sack as they went about their waking rituals. Yawns and groans were the only sounds in this quiet hour, most men and women considering it far too early to have a conversation. Babies were the exception of course, but when were they not?

In the castle on the highest hill however, a conversation had been going on for hours; one that would decide the shape of the future...

"Surely this is folly Robert?" asked Eddard, "The Reachmen would never accept a man from elsewhere as their overlord, let alone a 'northern savage'." He didn't consider himself one of course, but he'd heard the comments muttered by courtiers as he walked by.

"They wouldn't accept anyone as their overlord Ned, that's the problem" replied his friend, "The Tyrells themselves barely held onto power, but with them gone now we risk having the kingdom fall into anarchy." He shrugged. "Or so Jon tells me." The war had not changed Robert, though the combined influence of Jon and him was hopefully good enough to keep him focused on his responsibilities as King.

Eddard still turned to face the newly titled Hand of the King with a raised eyebrow however, Jon's mouth twitching in response. "You would know more if you had listened to me better" he suggested, "We did spend an hour talking last night." Robert grunted.

"Surely there's a better solution than giving it to...well, to me?" Ned asked, "I've barely visited the Reach! Perhaps the Hightowers could-" Robert coughed.

"Giving the Hightowers any more power is a madman's idea, Eddard" Jon cut in, "The Dance of the Dragons told us that, they cannot be trusted with power."

"Then perhaps the Redwynes-"

"Too weak and unrespected by their fellow houses. As are the Florents, the Oakhearts, the Rowans and any other Reachman house you care to mention!" Robert boomed, "They'd be the first among equals Ned, not the leader the Reach needs." The Storm King took a swig from his glass. "When the next war comes - and it will - the Reach will need a strong leader to band behind. Even more crucially, I'll need a friend there too, as even with the territory I've taken for the Stormlands removed, the Reach is still a massive war machine on its own. I will not allow a Targaryen loyalist to sit in Highgarden."

"You have agreed for your future heir to marry Rhaenys, Robert" Jon reminded him, "That should solve any doubts over your legitimacy." The Stormlander scowled.

"I remember" he muttered, "But I still say that it would be better if-"

Eddard interrupted with another argument. "I won't have any legitimacy as Lord of Highgarden, the Starks have had no relations to the Gardeners. How do you plan on solving that?"

Robert shrugged. "Mace Tyrell has a sister, she's reasonably pretty...I don't see the problem." Eddard thought briefly of Ashara Dayne...and then stopped that thought, remembering her cold body and the stillborn child of his brother.

"The 'sister' is called Janna, Eddard" said Jon gently, "She's about your age, unmarried and likely a beauty as Robert says if she takes after her mother." He sighed. "I know this is hard for you, after-"

"I'll do it" Eddard cut in to forestall Jon's coming speech, "But I want to meet the girl first." In the worst case scenario it would allow him time to think of an escape plan. But Ned still needed some time and so stood up and said "If that's everything?"

"Yes..." Robert said, looking at him slightly concerned.

The two men blinked as Ned stormed out, muttering about taking a nap.

ii) Janna

The wedding was very beautiful; flowers, fruits and architecture combining into a display pretty enough that even Olenna Tyrell, 'the Queen of Thorns' had admitted that it wasn't that bad. Though that wasn't to say the Tyrells were happy. Sure, they'd consented to the match and sure Janna had gladly taken her husband-to-be's hand as they strolled through the gardens together; but it didn't change the fact that they were now prisoners in their own home, or that the punishment for refusal would have been exile or worse. Her betrothed acted the charmer to be sure, but underneath all that he was certainly the same as any other rebel.

The head of those rebels, Robert Baratheon was acting as prime witness for Janna's marriage; accompanied of course by the northern whore who had managed to tempt Rhaegar Targaryen away from his bride. Janna hadn't believed in the Rebels' story of kidnap, she couldn't believe that the noble Rhaegar would ever commit such atrocities. She had never spoken to him herself - more's the pity - only admiring him from afar and dreaming of a wedding cloak of black and red - never one of white and grey.

That being said...seeing Lyanna Stark now, bruised and with a curtain of hair hiding her face...she did wonder. Just wonder whether perhaps there was some truth behind 'the Tower of Joy' story. The new King certainly wouldn't allow her out of his sight, though the rumours stated that he was yet to take her to bed for some reason.

With the absence of her father, brother or other uncles; it had fallen to her uncle Gormon to escort her into the sept for her wedding. She scowled at the embarrassment, for her Uncle - technically a Grand Maester now - leaned heavily on a stick as he had done for years, seemingly so weak that it appeared she was escorting him rather than he assisting her. But she didn't say anything, knowing full well of the threat that hung over her remaining family's heads.

She doubted the Rebels would bother to make it quick.

"Who comes before the Seven?" boomed the Septon of Highgarden, an young man who himself was androgynous enough to be mistaken for a girl. Janna worried if he was prettier than she was, quietly sure that her hatred would be shining through even as she affixed a fake smile to her face.

"Father, Smith, Warrior. Mother, Maiden, Crone. Stranger. I am hers and she is mine..."

Janna would do her duty in bearing the Stark a son. She'd be the devoted wife; caring, kind, gentle. That was what she had promised Jon Arryn.

"...from this day until my last."

But she would never forget her brother's death. That she swore.

iii) Olenna

The sound of laughter and giggling drifted up to her as Olenna reclined on the balcony of her chambers. They were the same ones she'd used since her husband's death, even the rise of the 'Green' Starks had not changed that. Mace had thought that they would give her an excellent view of the gardens and allow her to breathe in the scent of thousands of flowers at once without leaving bed. Perhaps even one day allow his grandmother to watch her grandchildren play amongst the hedges and trees.

He was right, though probably not in the way he expected.

Little Robb Stark seemed to already believe that he was the greatest knight in the world. At the tender age of seven he had barely noticed his mother's absence - Janna still recuperating after the birth of her third child Lyarra - and so delighted in charging around with his younger brother Luthor, playing doubtless at being his namesake and their father. In a way it painfully reminded Olenna of her own children, particularly since both of the boys took after their mother in looks. Mace had never been that adventurous to be honest, but even he had delighted in the idea of knights and battle as a youth. Not that it had helped him in the end, when he found himself on a real battlefield with no plan and no protection.

If the mother of the boys had been around, she would have confiscated the sticks they were treating as swords. Janna still remembered her brother's fate, treating the topic with a seriousness that Olenna had once thought her not to possess. She had been hardly the equal of Mace in foolishness, but still painfully naive and with none of her mother's wisdom or wit. Now however she seemed to have grown into her cunning, with her rare smiles always carrying a hint of falseness behind them - except for when she was around her children of course, Janna having always adored the young. She'd fussed over Mace's son before he died in the crib...

She had wanted to name Robb for him and Lyarra for poor Alerie. But why should the Lord of Highgarden mourn a women he's never met?

A cough brought Olenna's attention back to the present. It was one of her young maids, Daena Peake - a girl whose father was undoubtedly livid about only having one daughter far out of Robb's age range. Other lords of the Reach had managed to conceive daughters of an acceptable age, Talla Tarly and Ashara Hightower for instance; but Lord Peake had married poorly and so was met with multiple miscarriages from his wife's rotting womb. Or maybe his seed was just weak like Jon Arryn's. He was hardly a young man after all.

"My Lady" said the girl with a curtsy, "Lord Eddard requires your presence in his solar." She had a quiet voice, more akin to a mouse than the three great castles House Peake laid claims on.

Olenna rose from her chair, reaching for a cane styled after both flowers and grapes; an acknowledgment of her roots in the Arbor that her husband had bequeathed to her for when her back was aching from carrying a child. She hadn't been pregnant for decades now of course, but had kept the stick into her old age - perhaps as a small reminder of the original Luthor's better traits. It was certainly well used, as even the short distance to the Lord's solar - all family apartments were on the same floor - would strain her spine that had never recovered from a fall three years prior.

"Lead on" Olenna commanded.

It was presumably very important if Eddard Stark wished to speak to her in private. The man was rarely in Highgarden, as preferred to spend most of the year in King's Landing assisting King Robert with managing the realm. This meant he rarely saw his family, though Olenna knew that in Janna's case neither considered this an issue as she refused to admit that there was any justice behind the rebellion all these years later. She certainly would not travel with him to the capital, after offending the quiet Queen during one meeting. He had taken his eldest son there on a previous occasion however; likely to break him out of Janna's overbearing control, to make a man of an overly feminine boy. The woman had raged for weeks over that perceived slight, revealing a bitter side that even Olenna had not recognised.

Especially when Robb returned a changed boy.

Janna had always loved children, but she had also expected them to agree with her and act the way she believed was best. When they didn't...

iv) Luthor

"And thanks to those crossbowmen you've forgotten to take out, I intercept your king and send him to the Seven Hells." Robb grinned and flicked over the golden piece, part of the cryvase set gifted from House Lannister on Luthor's wedding day. "I win, again."

"You cheated" Luthor muttered, "You're meant to try and preserve your units, not waste them in suicidal charges just to break my lines."

"But was it a waste?" Robb asked, "I still won after all." He smirked; "I consider that rule guidelines truthfully, if you're afraid to loose a single man then how could you win a war? There must always be sacrifices in war brother; otherwise how would we know the cost of battle and of bloodshed?" For a second his eyes turned cold, undoubtedly in memory of the Ironborn assault two years past and the heavy toll it had taken on the coastlines. No one could have predicted that Balon Greyjoy would be mad enough to rebel in the way he did, taking Tywin Lannister's death as a sign that Westeros was weak - only to be proven utterly wrong in an orgy of violence that cost his entire family their lives. Robb had personally decapitated the Kraken's only daughter with her own axe, finding himself facing a Ironborn force twice as big as his own while on the way back from Oldtown.

Many called him a tactical genius, so much so that the offers for his hand had increased tenfold in the last 14 months.

"How is Ashara?" Luthor asked, referring to the Hightower girl that currently demanded Robb's attention. His brother grunted.

"Moody as ever" he replied, "Her father wanted the wedding to happen three months ago but I...I will wait until father is better before making my decision." Something in his expression was sad, not just for their sick father but for...

"I thought you wanted to marry her?" Luthor asked, "You've been courting her for over a year."

"I do...I do" Robb replied, seemingly nervous; "But...at times I get the feeling she doesn't love me back. Oh she'll laugh at my jokes and smile at me when we're-" He coughed. "I feel manipulated Luthor, I don't trust her as I once did. I'm sure..."

"Sure of what?"

"That she's lying to me when we kiss." He groaned. "If father was around I would ask him for advice, but since he's fallen ill I cannot bear the possibility of bringing this up. He was so happy for me to find the love that he and mother couldn't..."

Luthor grimaced, as he too knew the feeling. When he had been growing up, he'd been uncomfortably aware of the rift between his parents. He knew it was a byproduct of the fall of House Tyrell, the event that seen his father ascend to the lordship of Highgarden and marry his mother in the first place. He only knew that however, since neither of his parents would talk about the rebellion - his mother would turn snappish and his father would only remind him of his duty to Robb and House Greenstark. They wouldn't talk to each other about it either or anything else for that matter, only speaking in cold and sharp voices about 'Robb's violence' and 'Lyarra's wildness' and his own 'preferences'.

Both of them seemed to forget about his own marriage to Alerie Rowan and her pregnancy. He might not enjoy the company of women admittedly, but he was a Greenstark and would perform his duties to the letter. They were both acting as if he was still fondling stable-boys and squires, something he hadn't done for years. What right had either of them to judge him?

"You could always ask someone else for advice, Robb" he said, "We do have a large family."

"But with very few male members, Luthor. All of our uncles either died in the Rebellion or live up in the cold North." He smiled, "I did actually ask King Robert on our visit to the capital, to see if he had any advice."

"And..." Luthor prodded.

"I ended up in a brothel before sundown and ended up walking in on Lya." Luthor laughed. That sounded a lot like their sister, a wild and fierce thing who spent most of her time with the Sand Snakes and rendered Aunt Catelyn to a gibbering wreck. Father had spoiled her as a child and in return she adored him more than either of her siblings. They were always getting strange gifts delivered by courier, nicknacks she had found across the Narrow Sea and beyond.

But she hadn't spoken to mother in a year, pilling more wood on a pyre that never stopped growing.

Robb and he talked for some longer, only for the former to excuse himself to seek out Ashara; checking with one of her fellow handmaidens for her whereabouts. The specific handmaiden was Talla Tarly, one of many noble daughters who had been conceived in the Reach for the heir of Highgarden's consideration (Ashara Hightower being another). I wasn't jealous in this case, who knows what I would have done with all that attention. A few might be decent sorts, but most were bound to be utter shits.

v) Ashara

She had been born to marry the heir to Highgarden, Ashara knew - conceived, dressed, presented and named in a fashion ideal for the attentions of Robb and Eddard Greenstark. Once this inevitably happened, she had one task: conceive a Hightower heir for the Kingdom of the Reach and bring her family back to the overwhelming power denied since the Dance of Dragons. If necessary - though of course it wouldn't be - she was to seduce Robb Greenstark; sneak into his bedchamber, allow him a glimpse of her perfect form, even let him take her maidenhood early - whatever proved necessary. She could not allow someone else to take this prize from her, not a Redwyne or Rowan or any other daughter of the Reach. Her father had made that quite clear.

She had so nearly succeeded.

She had refused to attend Robb's wedding to that Tarly whore, leaving for Oldtown the day it was announced as a slighted woman. Not only because of the time and effort she had needed to make the Young Wolf hers, but because of the crime in choosing the daughter of a weak house over her. Talla Tarly wasn't even beautiful, her features were average at best and her father was a brute, mistakenly made Master of Laws by the oaf on the Iron Throne. She shouldn't have even registered with Robb, she shouldn't even have been noticed next to the glory Ashara projected wherever she went.

She shouldn't have been a threat.

It had been after Eddard Greenstark's death, the man passing away in the night from poison according to the smallfolk. Ashara didn't believe it, though Robb and his siblings had - as had Talla, who had 'comforted' the Young Wolf in his pointless grief. It was doubtless that she had granted Robb her breasts to weep into, blessed him with her maidenhood to make a man of him once more. It was the kind of low cunning Ashara should have expected of a lower house, but in her infinite kindness she had imagined that Talla was better than the rest of her kind. That was the only mistake she'd made. It hadn't helped of course when the rest of Robb's family had supported him in marrying her. Lyarra Greenstark had always hated Ashara; a hate returned in force since the Hightower despised the foolish girl's vulgarity and wildness. But she had thought better of Robb's brother Luthor, especially when he had made a sensible marriage to a Rowan - only for him to clap his brother on the back and wish him the best.

The best? She was the best, not some Tarly skank!

Only Janna Tyrell, Robb's mother had seemed displeased with the match - obviously in recognition of the poor choice her son was making. Why the Young Wolf hadn't listened to his mother was beyond her, surely the loss of his father hadn't affected his wits that much?

But Ashara calmed herself. Talla was a weak woman, she would doubtlessly die in childbirth and then Robb would be free to remarry. And then she would be there by his side, ruling over the Reach as was her right. Her father would know that, she would never need to marry another - only wait and bide her time for Highgarden to be hers.

vi) Robb

Even with the war going well, Robb still felt the need to mourn what could have been. How could he have known that the Hightowers' would take his rejection of Ashara as badly as they had, even with the woman's own nature. How could he have known that the Redwynes would take his mother's execution as an act of war, despite all the evidence confirming her as his father's murderer? How could he have known that his fellow Reachmen were so mad and so cruel, so obsessed with power that they would break the King's Peace to gain more?

Friends and foe alike called him the Bloody Wolf for his acts in this civil war, many of the latter claiming that he had wanted it in the first place. They named him kinslayer and butcher, they named Lyarra whore and witch, they named Luthor a swordswallower, they named Talla- He wouldn't even think that word. It wasn't her fault that she had lost their child, any more than it was Aunt Lyanna's fault for being raped by Rhaegar the Mad. Any who said differently were his enemies, no matter what he might have once considered them.

He heard the shout of one of his guardsmen from outside and tensed, only relaxing when Steffon Baratheon strode into his tent. He was decked out in gleaming armour as usual, a large warhammer strapped to his back. His father reborn and a worthy King on the Iron Throne. He'd left his own pregnant wife in King's Landing to help Robb with this rebellion, something that he could not be more grateful for even if the main army of the Rebels had been crushed by the time Steffon arrived with reinforcements.

"Still moping?" the Baratheon asked. They had been friends since they were boys, often sparring when Robb accompanied his father to King's Landing and then when he had served King Robert as a squire. Steffon had been the greater warrior of course, but Robb was far more cunning.

"I wouldn't call it moping" Robb muttered, "Planning is a better word." Steffon laughed.

"We planned our attack on Oldtown this morning Robb" he said, "Don't try that excuse again, come out and have a drink!"

But Robb shook his head. "I caused this war, I will not rest until it is finished. I don't...deserve to." Steffon sighed.

"How many times - you didn't cause this, Robb" he said, "It was their ambition, not your...dutiful nature. And desire not to wed a cunt, for that matter. Do not blame yourself, if it wasn't this issue it would have been something else entirely."

"But it still happened under my watch!" Robb said.

"And the Greyjoy Rebellion under my father's" Steffon replied, "You shouldn't blame yourself for other people's actions, your siblings do the exact same thing and look what that led to. Doran Martell still refuses to admit your sister's existence, let alone her marriage to his son!" He smiled. "So have a drink, live a little. We only have a short time before you have to go back to Highgarden and I go King's Landing - we might as well make the best of it!"

Robb smiled...and followed him out of the tent.

The Seven Kingdoms prior to the Deaths of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon

The Royal Family
King of the Iron Throne: Robert of House Baratheon (called the Usurper, the Demon of the Trident and the Hammer of All Gods).
Queen on the Iron Throne: Lyanna of House Stark (called the Quiet, the Missing and the Befouled).
Prince of Dragonstone: Steffon of House Baratheon.
Princess of Dragonstone: Rhaenys of House Targaryen Martell.

Small Council
Hand of the King: Eddard 'Ned' Greenstark, High Lord of the Reach.
Master of Laws: Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill.
Master of Coin: Kevan Lannister, Lord of Pyke.
Master of Ships: Stannis Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
Master of Whispers: Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbour.
Master at Arms: Ser Jacelyn Bywater.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Lewyn Martell.

Lord Paramounts
The North: Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell m. Catelyn Tully.
The Riverlands: Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun m. Roslin Frey.
The Vale: Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie.
The Iron Islands: Dissolved following the Greyjoy Rebellion.
The Westerlands: Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock m. Alysanne Lefford.
The Stormlands: Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End m. Lorna Swann.
The Reach: Eddard Greenstark, Lord of Highgarden m. Janna Tyrell.
Dorne: Prince Doran Martell of Sunspear m. Lady Mellario of Northos.

House Greenstark during the Reach Civil War

-Eddard Stark m. Janna Tyrell

-Robb Greenstark m. Talla Tarly

-Luthor Greenstark m. Alerie Rowan

-Lyarra Greenstark m. Quentyn Martell