Thanks to everyone who reviewed and sorry about the unseemly delay in updating!

Sunset and Shadows

Broken Bonds

They reached the Eyrie the moment when the sun was going down the horizon in a splendid display of dancing fires and blue mountains turned to white, almost the same as the smallish castle waiting for him – or perhaps not? He certainly hoped he was still welcome to this second home of his but Jon's aloofness the last few times when they had met wasn't a great encouragement. And no matter how great the honour he had come to offer him, he well knew Jon's obstinacy. Jon was no Hoster Tully to jump for elevation and recognition. He had enough of those already.

"Who is there?" a voice shouted from atop the walls.

"Lord Stark," Jory Cassel yelled back as Ned grimly pondered thus unwelcome turn of events. He knew that they were aware of his identity, having received the information from the Bloody Gate.

The castle gates opened and Cromval Egen came to welcome him with all the courtesy due to a great lord and none of the warm appraisal he had once bestowed upon his lord's ward. The impulse to turn back and flee down the narrow goat way that he had come up was almost overwhelming.

"Lord Arryn has invited you to dine with him if you aren't too tired," the steward informed him as he led him out of the Crescent Chamber as soon as decency let Ned and his men leave and showed him to his chambers – the ones kept for esteemed guests. On the way, Ned saw the master-at-arms who stayed where he was, staring at him, before turning away, his dark cloak billowing angrily behind him.

In the chambers prepared for him, the attire strewn on the bed was his own – but that was about the extent of anyone admitting that they had ever met him. Even the serving maids who drew his bath didn't whisper and giggle among themselves with the ease acquired over the years in his presence. His steps echoed down the long hall leading to the High Hall with the sound of dread and guilt.

Everything about the hall was just the way he remembered it – the long floor, the people sitting around the tables, the Arryn throne. The sight of the two empty seats around the high table made Ned look away for the briefest of moments.

"Welcome to the Eyrie," Jon said heavily and Ned felt sick at seeing how old and worn out his onetime mentor had become. But despite the new gauntness and lines on his face, the strength in his eyes was as present as ever. "Do take a seat."

Ned silently did, looking over to make sure that his men had been all accommodated.

"I believe you know everyone at the table?" Jon asked.

The captain of guards, the steward and his lady wife, the Knight of the Bloody Gate… They all stared at him with disinterest or downright hostility. "Not quite," Ned said, looking at the old woman seated at Jon's left. "I don't think I have been introduced to you, my lady," he said.

In the torchlight, she inclined her head, revealing the true purple of her eyes. "Indeed you haven't. But perhaps you knew my son."

"My lady Mallister," Jon said, "I give you Lord Stark."

Blood came red to Ned's cheeks. Suddenly, he couldn't meet the woman's eye. He couldn't even say a word about the debt he owed her. How would his own men take this reminding? He owed almost all of them the same debt.

With overwhelming sadness, he realized that the change in Jon ran even deeper than he had anticipated. Angry and disappointed at him, the Jon of a year ago would have never relished in putting him in such distressing situation. But of course, he couldn't say a thing.

The evening feast seemed to go on forever. Although seated in the place of honour, at Jon's left, his conversation with his host was stilted and formal. It was evident that Jon felt much more comfortable with Lady Mallister whom he clearly had known for a long time. They were discussing hunting with him defending the recreational occupation and she insisting that it was barbaric, especially the way it was designed for women. "That was one of the most horrible things at King's Landing," she claimed. "A horde of men running to scare the small animals off so they would come in the ladies' way and they could finish them off happily with their ridiculous spears and arrows… That was nothing else but an organized butchery. Fine ladies, those."

Where had Ned heard that? He squinted at her, her silvery hair and fair complexion like nothing that he had ever seen. But it was Lyanna who came to his mind, her derision and revulsion at the fact that this hunting was considered a measure of refinement. I'd rather be a wilding, she had exclaimed, shocked, after her first clash with this Southern pastime.

Jon chuckled. "I remember you made quite the impression when you claimed so aloud. Both men and women were offended."

She shrugged. "As long as my grandfather stood by me, everyone was entitled to think whatever they wanted. And he happened to think that occupation horrid. He only tolerated it because the court ladies would have a fit if they were denied it."

Now, that was something that chilled Ned to the bones. He had no idea who the woman's grandfather was but Rhaegar Targaryen had probably thought the same way when he had disappeared with Lyanna, starting the horror that had ended with Ned being reluctantly tolerated intruder in the home of his happy early youth. The resentment that he had been trying so hard to suppress for all those months bubbled up again. He disliked people who thought their lineage entitled them to disregard everyone and then laugh about it. But he seemed to be the only one who thought so. His tablemates just looked entertained.

It won't be easy, he thought as he undressed and climbed in the guest bed that he had never slept in.

To his surprise, the next morning he received an invitation to break his fast with Lord Arryn in his solar. With the memory of last night still fresh in his mind, he stepped there warily and was relieved to see only Jon there. He waved him in and pointed him at the seat opposite to his own.

"I hoped I'd see Lady Mallister," Ned said as soon as he ate his first morsel. "I wanted to say… I wanted to say that I'm in her debt, I say."

He didn't really have much to lose, with Jon still not saying a word.

"There is no need," Jon said. "You already showed your gratitude. By demanding that her niece be pushed from her throne to free the spot for your sister. Yes," Jon went on, as if Ned had said something, "she is Princess Elia's aunt. Her father's half-sister. A Targaryen by mother. And she's going to have just as little patience with your empty words as she had with her royal kin when they ruined her life, not unlike the way you demanded it to be for her niece."

"And you think I did it because it was my wish for Lyanna to be queen in another woman's place?!"

"No," Jon replied. "But you did it anyway. I find it insulting to the memory of those who died. I was amazed that after that, you dared show your face here. What did you expect, that you'd still be welcome after Elbert and Robert died because of the dishonour you protected?"

"No one could have expected that Aerys would go this far," Ned tried. Not surprisingly, Jon wasn't convinced.

"Truly? The Mad King? Truly? Rhaegar couldn't have known? And what exactly did your sister think would happen, pray tell?"

Those were the questions that haunted Ned still, filling him with remorse and helpless feeling close to hatred. He was almost sure that sending him here had been Lyanna's idea – she knew just how desperately he wished for peace and stability. Rhaegar had no way of knowing.

"Listen," Ned said, leaning over the table. There was nothing false of well-thought in his words – he had left his rehearsed words behind sometime during the last sleepless night. "What happened did happen. I loved them as well, Jon, you know it. Brandon was my brother! But I had no choice, other than supporting this… this… thing after the fact. And we lost. Let us make peace. Let's heal the realm. Rhaegar Targaryen is our king, as little as he might be to our liking…"

"Our liking?" Jon cut in, barking out a laugh. "Don't use this word, Lord Stark. There is no us anymore. There are those of us who are horrified at having fought a war because of two unworthy people and do not wish to forget all that we lost. And then, there is you."

You have taught me well, Jon, Ned thought bitterly. That's what I'm telling myself every so often.

"We lost," he whispered. "They're all dead. Brandon, Robert, Elbert… Joffery Mallister. And no matter what we do, we can't bring them back. Let us build a better realm for the future. The King sent me here to offer you the place of his Hand once again…"

"I see," Jon said. "I am surprised that he managed to postpone the assignment of one for so long."

He sounded so composed that Ned looked at him with hope. Could the display from before have been something temporary?

"They must be really desperate," Jon said. "I've heard that a good deal of lords have attended the official presentation of Princess Dyanna at Sunspear. And the stability of the realm is deteriorating further, with the Iron Bank demanding its due. Your sister isn't helping matters by offending those who stayed at Aerys' side." He paused. "I understand. You and Rhaegar Targaryen want me to take the situation in hand. Me to settle the issues with the lords as I did when they protested against King Aegon's reforms. You want to plum yourselves on my abilities! Well, Ned Stark, I'm telling you right now that your cause is a lost one. I don't want anything from the Iron Throne. And I certainly won't help the mockery of royals sitting it. You can tell that to your so-called goodbrother. Don't bother to dress it up nicely. And never again presume that you can convince me of anything. Never again come here without invite. Which you won't receive, so I expect that's the last time I see you."

The sun was making valiant attempts to light the small solar. In the distance, the roar of Alyssa's Tears could be heard. And Eddard Stark felt as empty and hopeless as she had been.

Not for the first time, the King and Queen's opinions differed. Lyanna felt that behind the Prince of Dorne's carefully chosen words, Elia's bitter, vengeful hand showed. Rhaegar, on the contrary, was convinced that it was the start of some kind of a fallout between the two Martells. After all, why would Elia want to sow doubt about her own children's paternity? It could only do them harm. More likely, Doran was furious with her attempts to show the world that she was desired just like Lyanna and was trying to punish her, make her return to her senses. What Ser Arthur's punishment for taking part in this pretense would be remained to be seen.

Listening to his rationalizations, Lyanna couldn't believe it. Who was the woman he was talking about? Even at Harrenhall, Elia Martell had taken the slight he had dealt her with grace and dignity. "Do you truly want her to be alone and unhappy till the end of her days?" she asked which he denied vigorously.

"Of course not. But she isn't revengeful. She doesn't have it in her. It's Doran's doing… he's turning against her and she's helpless to do anything to stop him…"

"And what concern of yours is that?" Lyanna demanded. "Those are their own problems and relationships."

"No, when he slings mud on my children, they damn well aren't!"

Here, Lyanna fell silent, refusing to go to down the well-trodden path of this argument. She so wished that Rhaegar would decide which his family was! She would go mad with his assurances that he loved her and Jon followed by yet another gift sent to Dorne, to be returned without an answer. Couldn't he see that this was their chance to settle the matter once and forever? Whoever had made the mistake, Elia and Doran, they could use it. They should use it! Instead, Rhaegar was worried that Elia and the children were mistreated in Dorne. A great mistreatment, an official celebration was. A great one indeed! Whatever Elia Martell was doing, Lyanna believed that the woman could look after herself. And well… she wished it were so. Including the Ser Arthur part. Perhaps then Rhaegar would stop thinking that he still owed Elia the protection due to a wife when he had moved mountains to evict her as one! Sometimes, Lyanna had the feeling that she lived with Elia Martell's husband, something that she hadn't felt even when she had been doing just that!

"So you want to have mud slung on our child, instead?" she asked. "Do you realize that as long as lords and rich merchants send gifts and regards to Elia, there will always be those who think Aegon should be your heir? There was almost no one of note at Jon's presentation. The divide hasn't even started to heal!"

"For which we can thank you and your brother," Rhaegar reminded her. "I still can't believe you said such a thing to Tyrell's face. That was a deed worthy of my father!"

Lyanna blushed. She was not proud of the way her impulsiveness had gotten the better of her but she refused to be the only guilty party. Not when Rhaegar kept sending such contradicting signals. And if he said something more about Ned, she wouldn't keep silent. It wasn't Ned's fault that they had wanted of him to do the impossible… If I were Jon Arryn, I would have spat in his face, too, she thought, sick at the thought of where she had placed herself in her pursuit of love. She loved Rhaegar but she loved honour as well. She loved her family… and now Rhaegar was all she had left. He and Jon. And for this, she would use any mistake Elia Martell would make. With Rhaegar's help or without! After all, not much more could be added to the weight of guilt that she managed to keep at bay until she suddenly couldn't and went overwhelmed.