Author's Note: A complete alteration to G.R.R.M's masterpiece, of course using his brilliantly crafted universe and characters. The story starts as the Baratheon and Lannister families leave Winterfell. Bran had decided it wasn't a day for climbing, and Eddard Stark had flat out refused to marry away Sansa and go to King's Landing.

Daenerys Targaryen will be implemented somewhere around the conquest of Astapor, perhaps after. This is simply because she has little to do with the plot going on in Westeros at the time, so not much changes.

Initial conflict may have been avoided by these simple alterations, but there will always be someone willing to make the first move. Someone willing to risk everything to get what they want.

Dusk

By

D. Distrov

Eddard Stark watched from the highest tower in Winterfell as Robert and his escort made their way back towards the forest from which they had appeared mere days before. There was a cold morning breeze, Eddard watched the sun appear from the horizon to the east. It was early in the morning, and within the hour the sun would be covered by a grey layer of clouds.

The days were growing shorter, and noticeably so. Eddard narrowed his eyes at horizon, the bags under his eyes dry as sand. With every breath Eddard took, cold northern air filled his lungs and reminded him of the fact - Winter was Coming. He pulled the abnormally large fur cloak he wore closer to his chest, the cold having no trouble penetrating the underlying layers of leather and cloth.

I've let a friend down, but I was right in doing so Ned convinced himself as he noticed the last horses and carriages slowly making their way into the forest. He placed his hands on the cobble of the tower, his hands covered in gloves made from thin leather, the inner layer the finest wool available this far north.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of practice swords colliding - and the sound of children having fun. Eddard turned on his heel to stroll around the massive tower, now peeking down towards the courtyard. Jon and Robb were fencing, and they appeared to be having a swell time. A smile crept across Eddard's worn face. His skin had grown more grey, his eyes more tired and his lips increasingly dryer - he was under the weather.

Jon had always been the better with a sword of the two, he had a knack for it. Eddard continued to let his gaze roam the courtyard, finding Arya talking to a boy that Eddard did not remember the name of.

That girl

Eddard looked at Arya with love in his eyes, the kind of love that only a father could posses. Eddard blew air out his nose at the idea that she was plotting a prank on Sansa - which was most likely true. Eddard turned around in a better mood than he had been just a minute ago, ascending the stairs of the tower with occasional groans.

The wood creaked underneath his boots, made from thick leather and a layer of fur. It was old wood, but it had survived more winters than Eddard himself, it was reliable. Eddard made his way out of the tower, encountering Maester Luwin on his way down the cobblestone stairwell to the courtyard. The elderly Maester gave him a respectable nod and a genuine smile before making his way to the south-eastern tower, presumably to send a raven.

The earth in the courtyard was hard dirt, and Eddard was convinced as he walked across it, that if it had not been so cold - the courtyard would be entirely made out of mud.

Eddard looked at Jon and Robb up close, noticing a clear change of pace as he arrived at the scene - suddenly it was competition. Jon was a humble man, but did not hold back for pity's sake. Robb fought well, but Jon had more understanding of the art of fencing.

Not only was he quick and struck with great force, he was exceptionally talented at reading an opponent's body language, and pin pointing their weaknesses.

Eddard looked at Jon, he was smiling, seemingly enjoying every block, every strike and every marking.

My son

Eddard tried to convince himself of those words as he saw the cheerful young man swing his sword. Another cold breeze rolled in and made Eddard blink a few times, his eyeballs themselves were dry in these conditions.

Every time Eddard looked at Jon, he reminded her of Lyanna - and terribly so. Sometimes he could not bear to look at him, it reminded him of his greatest failure, his greatest mistake. Eddard threw a half smile at the boys and walked towards the main hall of Winterfell. Eddard noticed that a banner had a hole in it just below the eye of the dire wolf, perhaps a poorly placed arrow. Eddard felt the cold of the courtyard leave him behind as he entered the door to the great hall where fires were burning and soup was being made.

He filled his nostrils with the smell of a rich broth, perhaps even chicken if he was in luck. Eddard was greeted by all the servants as he passed through the long tables. Eddard made it a rule to nod back, and preferably whilst smiling, he felt incredibly rude if he forgot.

Eddard walked with heavy steps into the dimly lit corridor, the heat of the torches and fires fondling his skin underneath the armor - it was heavenly. Eddard took a left and made his way to the kitchen, and upon entry noticed the cook, Gelda, stirring a rather large grey pot over a well fed fireplace. Eddard took a deep breath through his nose.

Definitely chicken.

"Could I perhaps be as bold as to ask for a bowl?" Eddard said with a smile on his face, letting his wrinkly large hands wrap around a wooden bowl, accompanied by a spoon.

Gelda returned the smile "Something would be off If you didn't, my lord".

Eddard extended the bowl towards Gelda, eager to slurp away at something warm.

Gelda lifted the big stirring spoon, and with it came cuts of chicken and much more. As the soup filled Eddard's bowl, he could easily identify all the ingredients.

Chicken, carrots, a single radish, potatoes and of course peas

Eddard truly did appreciate good food, and especially in this weather. Another two spoonfuls did the bowl justice, and Eddard nodded once again, leaving the kitchen with careful steps. Early dinner had become a daily occurrence as of late, Eddard would sneak in and get a taste of the wares simply because he was bored, or starving. Eddard sat down in the hall and started munching down on the soup.

The perfect balance of vegetables, meat and spices made this soup special, but it was good in a simple way. Salt, pepper and a small amount of garlic was all you needed, anything more than that was sheer material excess.

Eddard felt his cheeks and throat warm as the almost scolding hot soup entered him, spoonful after spoonful. A few servants walked by with hungry eyes, but they would eat later. Again, Eddard was plagued by his decision yesterday.

He hoped that he had not offended Robert when he refused the marriage proposal and the seat in the small council, but it was what he had to do, for his family. Eddard did not particularly like Joffrey, nor Cersei, or Jaime, which all made perfect sense to him. Joffrey looked a lot like Jaime, and it was no mystery to Eddard just why, he had speculated upon it for years.

If the child was Roberts, it would be two inches taller, and a foot wider.

Eddard smiled as he gulped down the last remaining pieces of chicken and carrots at the bottom of the bowl. His belly was filled with hot, delicious soup, and all he had to do was be alone with his thoughts - for now.

Eddard remembered his conversation with Jon from last night, it was less than pleasant. They had discussed Jon's decision to join the Night's Watch, and Eddard had advised him against it, knowing that ultimately, it was still Eddard's decision, he much preferred Jon to make a choice. Jon had exclaimed a wish to gain honor, to become a man, at least to become someone. Eddard could not relate to Jon, but he understood his burning desire to make a man out of himself.

Eddard wondered briefly if he legitimized him as a Stark if he'd stay, but the thought was swiftly overshadowed by the problematic nature of such doings. Eddard left his bowl on the table and placed his spoon in it.

As Eddard stepped back into the morning cold, he was reminded of the great many decisions he would have to make in the near future.

Arya needed to be betrothed, same with Sansa. Robb needed a wife, and Bran and Rickon needed to pick up on their lessons with Maester Luwin.

The question remained.

What do I do with Jon

Eddard had many ideas, although none of them seemed as convincing of Jon's proposal to join the Night's Watch, perhaps it was for the best. Benjen could watch out for him, he could live out a happy life amongst similar minded men - and murderers, Eddard reminded himself.

No, Jon needed a proper life, but exactly how he was going to give that to Jon, Eddard did not know, but what he did know was that Lyanna wouldn't have wanted him to live his days out on the wall.

Eddard moved a gloved hand through his long dark hair, leaning his head back to take a deep breath. Just as Lord Eddard Stark looked up, he noticed a tiny snowflake coming towards him, twisting and turning in the wind like a tiny piece of paper. Eddard didn't move, and the snowflake landed directly on his nose.

Eddard narrowed his eyes at the sky and pulled his fur cloak closer around his torso.

Winter was coming.