EDDARD

Balon Swann guided the Lord of the North in silence to the King's Solar. Eddard considered asking after the lad's health, or the well-being of his family, but decided against it. Young Swann clearly took his duties as the King's squire seriously, and besides, his family might be a sore spot. His father had fallen back to Stonehelm after the Battle of the Bells, and remained there, "marshaling his forces" even as Mace Tyrell had stood outside Storm's End and the King-to-be ate rats. Young Balon was as much a promise of future good behavior as he was... an honored guest.

"Beware dragons! Beware!" shouted a youthful voice, its owner swiftly appearing. Young Renly Baratheon rushed around the corner, a swath of rich green cloth tied over his eyes, and a large stick in his hands. "I am Symeon Star-Eyes, come to slay you!" Eddard and Balon had to dart out of the way as the young boy dashed by. After he passed, an older man-a Maester, Ned realized by the chain-followed. "My pardons, sirs," he stated, with a slight bow, before returning to his chase. "Renly! Renly! Do be careful!"

If something were to happen, that boy would be the next king, Ned thought to himself, with a slight shudder. A foolish thing to think-but then, with Robert taken from them so quickly, it was impossible not to think it. And if I am thinking it-who else might be?, he considered.

He was quite glad when they reached the King's Solar, and Balon opened the door. "Lord Stark," said the King, standing behind his breakfast table. "I heard you wished to speak to me." Stannis was dressed in what Eddard was learning to see as his typical style, plainly and precisely, and even though it was early in the day, the darkish grey shadow of whiskers was already present on his chin. If I did not know better, I'd imagine Robert had been the younger sibling, Ned thought to himself.

"Indeed, Your Grace," began Eddard. Stannis' eyes remained fixed on him in a manner that Eddard could not help but find disconcerting; he shifted his gaze slightly to the left, and realized, with a certain mild sense of surprise, that the Queen was seated there. Cersei Lannister sat there hunched over her orange, looking ever so miserable. As his eyes lighted on her, she looked up at him, and her green eyes flashed with such intense anger at him that he returned his gaze to Stannis.

"I... I have a simple request to make of you, my king," began Eddard doing his best to keep calm. "I have but recently become Lord of the North, and I have spent all that time at war, Your Grace. I have a land that does not know me, a wife that does not know me, a son, newly-born, that does not know me..." The words were coming faster now-so fast he almost worried he'd overstep himself, but if the King were offended by anything he said, he didn't show it. "I... wish to go home, Your Grace. That my land may know me, and I it, and that I may bring order and justice there, in your name."

Stannis' face remained impassive throughout this, and when Ned was finished he turned quietly, and looked out the window. "You will wish to take your men with you, I imagine," he stated flatly.

"I... I would leave as many as you would need, Your Grace," began Ned, hesitantly, "but many of them... my lords, like myself, have business in the North that must be tended to."

"Homes and lands and wives," snapped the Queen with a surprising vehemence. "Things we here in the South have no knowledge of..."

Stannis turned and raised a hand, and Cersei quieted, returning to glaring angrily at her orange. "You have my permission, Lord Stark," said the King in a quiet, cold voice. "Speak with your bannermen to see what can be left here under my command, and when you have done that, return to the North, with my blessing." The King's face remained a blank slate as he spoke, and his blue eyes continued to stare at Eddard in a manner that made Ned feel slightly uncomfortable. "I would not have it said that I kept your people fighting here in the South, while letting the North fall to ruin. Return, and bring order to your lands."

Eddard bowed. "I thank you, Your Grace."

Stannis gave the slightest of nods. "And there is one other thing. Ser Jaime Lannister is to join the Night's Watch. I wish you to take him with you, when you go. Along with some... other recruits."

"It would be my honor, Your Grace," said Eddard, even as he imagined he felt the Queen's glare on him.

Stannis regarded him coolly. "Robert always spoke of you with fondness," said the King. "It is my hope, Lord Stark, that I may count on your support in the days that come. This war will not be easy, will not be swift, and what follows after... will be hard." Stannis leaned forward, slightly. "I will need loyal service, in the days that follow."

"I... You may trust in me," said Eddard. "Your Grace."

Stannis nodded. "If that is all..." he noted quietly, but with a definite force.

Eddard gave a nod of his own and then turned to leave the solar. As he left, he swore that he felt their gazes on him the entire time-the hot, angry gaze of the Queen, the cold, probing gaze of the King.

But he told himself he was simply imagining this.