A/N: Massive, massive, thanks to everyone who left a review, they keep me inspired!
EDDARD
Ned had the worst headache of his life. In fact, he found it hard to think, difficult to concentrate, almost impossible to understand what the people around him were saying. Whilst the accented twang of the Dornish moved at a faster pace than what he was used to, it was not the reason for his lack of comprehension and bewildered state. Of that he had Robert Baratheon to blame.
At some point during the voyage from the Vale, Robert had decided that the best way to spend their week on a ship was to be stinking drunk. Ned had balked at first, wanting to keep his wits about him as they sailed down the Narrow Sea, yet had reluctantly agreed after hours of Robert speaking of nothing else. But the more he drank, the more his thoughts began to churn and his worries about his reception in Dorne grew, which in turn caused him to drink even more. And look where that has gotten me.
He didn't want to admit it, but the secret truth was that Ned was anxious to see the new land in which he would be calling home, and to make an impression on the people he would be calling his family. With everything that had happened with his father after Lyanna's death and the feud that followed, Ned could not help but feel that he was more of a burden to the Daynes and that perhaps he was not worthy of Ashara. You are just the unwanted second son of a House that is half a world away, a nagging voice insisted in the back of his mind. Will they truly want you? Would you truly be able to find happiness in a home full of resentment? It was all Ned could do to smother the treacherous thoughts before they grew, drowning them with wine.
Which of course led to his current predicament, walking the streets of a small town just south of Starfall and struggling to haggle with the locals over the price of good horses. For all of Ned's hungover woes, Robert was faring little better. For every skin of wine that Ned consumed, Robert downed three, and after five solid days of nonstop drinking the Lord of Storm's End merely stood with a dull look in his eye and a hand on Ned's shoulder to help keep himself upright as the world passed him by.
Eventually Ned and Robert left the dealer's stable with two horses and a pack mule sold to them at an extortionate rate. When the price was coupled with the cost of food and water, Ned found that he had already spent a quarter of the personal savings that he had brought with him from the Vale and endeavoured to be wiser with his coin in future, at least until he was settled and could work towards earning more in service to Lord Dayne.
The sky was a brilliant blue; the sun was blazing overhead and as he rode out of the small town he turned his face towards it with closed eyes and let the light wash over him. It was still early in the morning and there was a gentle breeze kissing at his exposed skin, yet Ned still found himself bathed in sweat. Never before had he experienced heat such as this, and his pale northern skin was already starting to burn pink from the exposure. Ned rubbed at a patch of sunburnt skin dubiously.
"Damn it Ned," Robert complained from beside him. "You should have at least bought a bloody hat. At this rate I'll be handing over a charred corpse to Lady Dayne."
Ned gave him a weary smile. "I had better get used to it if I'm to live here," He shrugged. "Mayhaps I'll tan after a while."
Robert snorted at that. "Not bloody likely."
The two shared a laugh at that and rode on in silence for a time, enjoying the sights of the Dornish countryside. In truth it was mostly vast stretches of red sand that seemed angry and unforgiving, yet as they followed the great river upstream they were witness to a kind of beauty as life seemed to thrive all the more fiercely when otherwise surrounded by vast nothingness. In the far distance they could even see the great Red Mountains, something that was awe inspiring even to two young men who had spent time amongst mountainous terrain. It is as different from the Vale as day to night.
They were granted the mercy of darkness when the sun went down and it seemed as if the whole world had suddenly shifted into the beginnings of a mild winter. As it grew colder, Ned felt himself grow more at home with the strange land he found himself in. Robert for his part made them a small fire and went about charring a fish he had caught from the river, seemingly oblivious to the change around him.
"Do you think it ever snows in Dorne?" Ned asked, gazing up at the starry night sky. "I wonder how this might look blanketed in snow."
Robert just laughed. "In all my years I've never heard of it snowing this far south, even in the longest of winters."
"It's …. strange."
Baratheon raised a brow. "You think it's strange that there's a place in the world that doesn't ever get as frosty as the North?" he gave another booming laugh. "Gods Ned, I hate to break this to you but they call it the North for a reason. Seven save you if you ever found yourself across the Narrow Sea!"
"It's just that I've never known a land like this," He looked at the expanse of desert that surrounded them. "It is a place that doesn't know winter. My House has warned of it's coming since men knew what winter was; it's a part of my very soul…. I wonder if that makes me useless to a land like this?"
Robert shook his head furiously and leaned in close. "That's just your damned nerves talking," his expression turned stern. "Half of the Houses in Dorne come from across the sea, river folk the lot of them. If those toad eaters can make it here, so can you."
Ned considered that for a moment, laughed to himself and then went to lay back, drifting to sleep with a faint smile upon his face.
They started out again just before dawn, making good time without the harsh sun bearing down on them. The morning sky was a beautiful purple and in the distance Starfall was becoming more and more apparent as they rode onwards. Robert had a comment for every little thing on the way, his hangover doing little to stop or slow his chatter. But Ned did not mind. His friend's bawdy conversation was of much help to keep his mind off the thousand worries that buzzed around his head.
"…So I spent the entire time throwing up every damned thing I'd eaten in the last week gone by. By the gods was I sick that day, but then I had to be. I couldn't have put up with my brothers without a little help from the wine." His chest rumbled with laughter at that for a brief moment before a shot of pain cut through him. "Though I'll tell you what, Ned, I don't think I've had it as bad as this one in a while." He rubbed at his chiselled jaw. "The taste of bile hasn't worked its way from my mouth yet."
Ned shook his head, trying to hold back his laughter. "That's what you get when you try to cure a hangover by following it up with two whole skins of wine."
"Bah," Robert waved the criticism away. "It's the hair of the dog that bit you, everyone knows that."
They continued on for a few more hours, mostly filling the time with casual chatter and observation of the landscape. It seemed the further north they went the more the land seemed marked where long dried rivers and streams had cut and shaped the hard soil. Ned had to wonder what the whole area looked like in the thousands of years before the Greenseers had smashed the arm of Dorne. I should be mindful with how I voice such things, Ned silently chastised himself. They'll think me some uncouth fool mentioning old legends.
Starfall came before them all at once. With its high walls and the vertical, almost blade-like structure it seemed to stab at the sky. Ned could almost imagine it as the hilt and blade held in the hand of some giant that had been buried underneath the Dornish sands. Even Robert seemed impressed, and he had once boasted to Ned of having been to the Red Keep. There were a few people in the fields before them, villagers talking amongst themselves near a well, exchanging what gossip they had and sharing laughter while their husbands and fathers worked the fields. To Ned's great surprise they did not seem overly concerned by the sight of two rough looking knights riding through their homeland and merely dipped their heads in a casual sign of respect before going back to their business.
The castle gates were opened for the two without either having to identify themselves and attendants were waiting to take their horses as they rode into the courtyard. Ned and Robert were both too tired, too hungover and too awestruck to really voice any form of objections as they were led towards the castle proper by a small retinue of knights bearing the white and lilac colours of Starfall. They entered through a high archway, the hall beyond dim and echoing as an ancient Sept, light filtering down in dusty columns and pooling on the marble floor. On their way they passed twin suits of old armour that stood as sentries at the final entrance to the heart of the castle. Ned paused for the slightest of moments to take in the full sight of them. The armour was well taken care of; Ned could see his reflection in the finely polished helm and the gold inlaid across the chestplate still looked as lustrous as anything he had ever seen. Behind the armour stood a pair of living knights, spears clenched within their hands and with an expression of focus writ across their stony faces. They made a silent exchange with the guardsmen that had brought Ned inside, and a handover of sorts occurred as the ones that greeted them seemed to melt away into the shadows and the two guards led them through the high doors and into the heart of Starfall.
The great hall of Starfall was a marble room the colour of cream and the centre dais looked almost as big as a market square. Behind the goliath seat of House Dayne lofty windows were left standing open, a keen breeze washing through and making the shooting star banners twitch and rustle against the stone walls. Several marble columns were decorated with carved depictions of ancient knights at battle; the Swords of the Morning throughout history and all their heroic deeds. The message that House Dayne had been the Kings of the Torrentine and born some of the greatest heroes Westeros had ever seen was hard to miss.
In the centre of the room sat the Lord of Starfall himself, Ulrick Dayne. He was not yet forty, but the man's comely features seemed prematurely aged; his once finely carved face was now gaunt, his dark hair already showed signs of greying at the sides. It was the look in the man's eyes that was most striking. His purple orbs held a heaviness to them that Ned had often seen in several old soldiers. At the base of the dais lurked a great shape, a fat-necked bear of a man who looked just as tall as Robert and twice as wide, his massive arms crossed before his chest knotted with muscle that looked as solid as stone. The expression he wore was one of grim caution, even as one of the guards approached to whisper in his ear. The man nodded once, raised his hand half an inch in dismissal, and turned to look up at his master.
"These are the ones who arrived from the sea, my lord," he called up at the figure, "Shall I take their weapons?"
"Weapons?" Ulrick's sharp voice echoed around the cavernous room. "No I don't think that will be necessary Qoren." Slowly the man raised himself up from his seat and descended down one step at a time in a purposeful motion until he and Ned were almost level, the faintest of smiles dancing across his gaunt face. "After all, we're to be family, are we not?"
Ned gave a respectful bow. "Lord Dayne," he said in his most reverent voice. "I must thank you for all that you have done for me, many others would not have been half so kind. I am in your debt and I am honoured to be able to serve you in any way I can."
"Don't give me too much credit," Ulrick Dayne gave a weary smile. "My brother Arthur is not the only member of House Dayne who knows how to wield a blade. Ashara would have had my head on a spike for all to see if I didn't at least consider the notion." He reached out and clasped Ned's hand. "Well done, by the way. Ashara has always been a passionate woman, but the way she talks about you is another thing entirely."
The young Stark blushed despite himself and felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, so fast that he could feel it in the back of his throat. He recovered quickly and gestured to his friend, attempting to change the conversation. "My lord, allow me to introduce you to my friend Robert of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End."
Robert took the man's hand and shook it in his typically rough manner. "You've my compliments Lord Dayne, this a bloody good home you've got here, and don't think that what you're doing for my friend will be overlooked. Any friend of Ned is a friend of mine!"
"My…thanks, Lord Baratheon," Ulrick rubbed at his hand as he removed it from Robert's. "I'm pleased that such a… mighty House as yours would consider my family friends. I know House Baratheon has not been such an ardent supporter of Dorne."
"Bah," Robert waved the notion away. "The past is the past. If a man spends his whole life looking at what went on before him then he can't leave anything for those that come after."
Lord Dayne nodded sagely in agreement. He was silent for a long moment before glancing heavy-lidded at the windows. "The day is almost done, and I can see that your travels have been difficult. I shall have my servants show you to your rooms, there you can bathe and rest. I'll have someone send for you when it is supper."
The man almost made to leave before Ned called out. "My lord, if it would not be too much trouble, I should like to see Ashara before anything else."
Ulrick regarded him silently for a moment. "I'm afraid my sister is not here. She has been away at the capitol tending to Princess Elia, though when she last wrote her retinue was moving through the Dornish Marches. I expect she should be here within a few days' time."
Ned tried and failed to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. "I see. Then I shall endeavour to know her home so that I might impress her upon her arrival."
"I'm sure she would like that," He gave Ned another tired smile before moving out of the chamber, his heavy and even footsteps echoing throughout as he vanished. Ned and Robert exchanged another hesitant glance before following the small crowd of servants that had seemingly sprung the shadows to serve them.
The chamber he was brought to was fairly large in size and had a certain level ornate decoration to it that indicated that he was not simply being relegated to a simple guest room. In truth Ned felt slightly uncomfortable with the lavish display after spending so much of his life alternating between the North and the Vale where such things were more modest.I suppose I'll have to get used to southern living…
He took the time alone to catch up on some rest, settling into a short dreamless sleep on the large bed that had been provided. His sleep lasted for perhaps an hour or two before he was woken by the soft knocking at his door and when he opened it he was greeted by several servants who went about bringing in a large tub and several buckets of warm water for his bath. Once that was seen to and he assured them that he needed no more assistance the servants filed out of the room and he went about washing off the grime and dust from his skin and hair. He relished the feel of warm water and felt some of the tension leave his muscles. The servants returned a half hour later and went about herding him down to a mostly empty chamber that held only a single large table covered in a variety of foods and several jugs of wine. At the end of the table, Lord Dayne waited, attended only by a cupbearer.
Though Ulrick Dayne wore a smile across his face it did not reach his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion. When he spoke it sounded as though he was out of breath. "Eddard, I hope that everything was to your satisfaction. Please, do be seated." He gestured at the food that littered the table. "Have whatever you like. The Cheese, in particular, is quite good."
Ned sat down in the offered seat to Ulrick's right, glancing at the empty seat across from him. "Should we not wait for Robert, my lord?"
"It seems your friend has already found himself better company than the likes of us for this evening," he gave a weak laugh. "He is a typical Baratheon I suppose."
Ned felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him and made to stand. "Forgive me, I shall speak to him at once-"
"-Never mind," Ulrick laid a hand on Ned's shoulder and gently urged him back into his seat. "If I am to be truthful, I arranged for our Stormlander to be preoccupied. Charming as he is, Robert Baratheon strikes me as the kind of man to be ruled by his emotions and I wouldn't want to cause a scene," he leaned in close. "What I want to discuss with you is better kept between family for the nonce."
The shrewd eyes of the Dornishman settled upon him and Ned's embarrassment was quickly forgotten and replaced by outright discomfort. "What do you mean, Lord Dayne?"
"Call me Ulrick, please," another deceptively weak smiles flashed. "We're brothers after all, or soon to be."
"Ulrick," Ned said, showing his palms. "I'm sorry but have I missed something? You of course know I'll be willing to help you and House Dayne, but that's hardly a secret we need to keep from Robert."
The Dornishman's eyes went to the food before him and went about pouring himself a bowl of stew from a pot sitting before he and Ned. Once he was finished he toyed with his spoon, tapping it softly against his bowl, his expression distant. "Did you know," he said after a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly, "That Dorne has had more kings in its history than any region in Westeros? Of course there were many different kings outside of Dorne too. The Gardner kings, The Casterlys and from them the Lannisters, the line of Harren the Black, the Durrandons. The Starks in the North as you well know, and the Red Kings of the Dreadfort." He held up a single finger. "But, in Dorne, there was a time when every lord was a king. It was a land of kings. The Fowlers were the Kings of Stone and Sky, the minor Houses along the Greenblood were known to choose a High King from amongst their number. Yronwood still fashion themselves as the Bloodroyal. And even," he said with a breath that turned into a whispery wheeze, "even House Dayne were known as the Kings of Torrentine. So many kings in one place. You can imagine the chaos that caused." He filled another bowl of stew and pushed it towards Ned who took it hesitantly. "So you see, my northern friend, that Dorne was a very different place before Nymeria came along."
"The Rhoynar added their strength to House Martell," Ned replied diplomatically. "It unified Dorne under Sunspear."
The older man nodded thoughtfully as he ate his stew. "There are some," he spoke in between mouthfuls in a casual tone, as if discussing the weather, "who believe that there should be a return to the old ways. Not all embraced Nymeria."
So this is where we're going. Ned sat to attention, wondering if he was being invited into a trap by the Dornishman. He took a mouthful of stew, swallowed and smiled. "Ulrick, these are matters for Maesters and men of standing within Dorne. I am merely a foreigner."
"But you are going to be living in this land," Ulrick Dayne was obviously displeased that his game of generalities had been avoided. "You will be living in my home, marrying into my family and crafting a life within my world. It is important that you know exactly what world that is."
Ned sat back in his seat, looking at Ulrick with guarded curiosity "Then tell me."
Ulrick's face underwent a curious change. His purple eyes lost their glitter and assumed an inward look and in an odd way, the whole face slumped into a deep melancholy. He let out one extended, shaky breath. "There are people in Dorne who wish to cast House Martell from their seat of power and see the return to the old ways, when Dorne was led by a king and not a prince. In truth I have only heard whispers of such talk and never from the same source, but it is there. It grows within the land like an infection slowly grows within a man's bowels and I fear it shall be equally harmful if left unattended."
"Do you have any names?" Ned asked quietly.
"Some," Ulrick admitted. "But I lack the proof to act upon them, and the Princess of Dorne is not long for this world. The entire situation is far too delicate to truly act upon, at least in the open; if I try and make any accusations they will only be denied and dismissed. I would find myself exposed and be seen as a target for this…conspiracy. Blood would be shed, and the young Prince Doran would find himself overwhelmed by an unstable rule plagued by sedition." Ulrick batted his hand, as if the thought was an annoying fly buzzing around his food. "No, I cannot risk action, lest I face my own destruction. If someone is to do something, it has to be an outsider."
Ned breathed in sharply. "Me," he said more to himself than anything else. "You want my help with this."
"No, Eddard," his breathing was becoming somewhat more laboured, the purple eyes looking the slightest bit strangled. "I need your help for this. I need a man who can lead men in my stead, who can defend himself if he gets in trouble, and who can move about Dorne without too much suspicion."
"Come on, Ulrick," Ned said impatiently. "Every damned lord this side of the Red Mountains will know some foreigner is roaming about their land looking into their affairs. Besides, I've no mind for politics. I was trained to be a solider, to defend the lands of my older brother and nothing more!"
Ulrick was unhurried in his response, taking a moment to regain enough breath to speak. "All of that still applies here in Dorne. You will marry Ashara and I will become your older brother and it shall be my lands that you need to defend." He pointed a shaky finger at Ned. "I need a soldier, in that matter you are well trained. What you do not know; the perception and observational skills, these things can be taught with a little time and effort."
"I am not a good liar; I couldn't possibly serve in the way you want." He insisted, feel his frustration mount. "I am just not that kind of man."
The Dornishman took a deep drink of wine and levelled Ned with a benevolent gaze. "I would not ask you to lie. All I need from you is your eyes, your ears and the opinions that they create within your mind. Use these tools that the Gods have given you and then report back to me. Anything else I ask of you will entirely be within your skills as a soldier, this I swear on my honour."
Ned sat back in his chair, turning over what Ulrick had said in his mind. He didn't like it all, and he was dubious about his own skills for the task given how much honesty had been instilled upon him from a young age and his lack of experience when it came to the inner workings of politics. Why can't the rest of world be as straightforward as the Lords of the North? He felt incredibly uncomfortable about the whole situation, yet Ned knew that he did indeed owe Ulrick for what he and Jon had done. Dammit it all…
"What would I need to do," Ned finally said after a long moment of silence. "If I were to agree to this?"
Ulrick's eyes softened again. "Once you and Ashara have wed, no doubt she will wish to show you the sights of Dorne, and perhaps even spend time at Sunspear and the Water Gardens. Princess Elia will most likely come to be with her mother as she passes, and Ashara will want to be there for her friend. I want you to stay close to her and report to me on anything and everything that you see there, with particular care for anything that might strike you as suspicious." He tapped his fingers against his empty bowl of stew. "Should anyone try to take advantage of House Martell's vulnerability then it would be the perfect time to act."
"And in the event of such an act?" Ned leaned in close. "How would you move on that information?"
"I would see that everyone involved, highborn and low, master or paid sword would die for their crimes." The smile on Ulrick's face turned into a grimace. "I would have all of the conspirators hanged from the walls of Sunspear for every man, woman and child in Dorne to see."
The sudden brutality shocked Ned. "Even in the North, we are not usually so harsh."
"People are loyal to the Starks in the North, a duty and love born from the harshness of your lands; here our blood runs hot. And besides, from what I have heard, there is a man behind this conspiracy that has taken up the mantle of one our most reviled figures. This man, whoever he is, has taken on the title of a monster that has plagued Dornish and foreigners alike for hundreds of years. This man must be put down as swiftly and brutally as possible before he destroys us all."
Ned looked into his host's eyes, seeing the spark of worry within them. "What does this man call himself?"
"The Vulture King."
