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Thanks to my Beta Urthona
Ned
Ned arose slowly from his sleeplessness in the shadows of the night, careful not to stir the soft sleeping body beside him. Making no sound, his naked feet connected with the cold ground, the blanked falling of him. He sighed heavily, pushing himself off the mattress.
He gazed over his shoulder, fearing he would awaken her, his eyes lingering on the beauty sleeping so peacefully. Cersei's long hair fell gracefully around her face in golden beams shimmering in the pale light of the moon. There had been only too few occasions he had seen his wife so relaxed and free of worries. He wished he could be as worriless as she appeared, remembering however how deceiving the sight of sleep was.
Pulling a shirt over his head, Ned paced slowly to the window, bracing his hands on the windowsill. He starred outside; the northern horizon laying in deepest dark in front of him. The cold flowing out of the glass caused a familiar chill of home. Somewhere out there his daughter was fleeing, fleeing from him, from this place, from the faith he had bestowed on her, he had made her endure.
It had been a shock to him, learning that she had beaten the prince so badly beforehand fleeing the capital. He had no idea what had happen in its entirety, only the destroyed face of the boy he had sworn to protect, he had given a promise to his father to protect, stood witness to the events that had unfolded. The situation was truly bad, Cersei was furious, her anger burning, blistering for the last week. He had never experienced her fire burning so hot. No matter how much she tried to hide it from him, he could see. He could understand stand her, truly. Joffrey was her son and she wanted nothing but protect him. Ned empathised with her.
Ned wasn't sure what would be next, what would happen if Arya would be found. For now, they had decided to hide what had happened from the realm, even the court. The boy had still not woken from the sleep Grandmaester Pycelle had triggered with his medicine to spare the Prince the pain. Nothing was known of what truly had happened. Ned had only sent Jory out to find Arya, together with his most trusted men, bitterly reminded of the last time one of his daughters had fled him and an upcoming marriage of hers. But this time it was different, Ned had to admit. Joffrey was different. Ned had already great reservations concerning the boy before the incident and had decided something had to be done, but never had he thought it would be that bad. The state of the realm, of course, had prevented him of doing that so far. Also, he had to discuss the issue with Cersei beforehand. He had thought then: maybe the marriage could be saved. Maybe Arya could grow affection for the prince, much like Sansa had done for her husband.
Now, everything was different; Arya had made that very clear. Her violent action had burned down the bridges between her and any peaceful reconciliation with Joffrey. Ned doubted there would ever be a reunion between her and the Prince. She had ended her betrothal most likely. A betrothal she had never wanted, a man she had not wanted. A painful similarity that caused Ned remorse beyond imagination. He had made the same mistake his father had made. Arya had once again proven her resemblance to his sister. Lyanna had not wanted to marry Robert either, seeing the degeneracy in his character. Ned had overlooked these traits and her concerns out of friendship, a mistake he still regretted, one that not only Lyanna's deeds, but also Cersei's stories, reminded him of every day.
Ned had never learned if his sister had gone with Rhaegar of her free will. The only thing that he had ever been sure of was that she hadn't stayed freely. The Rebellion had taken nearly an entire year to end after their father and brother had been killed by the Mad King. Lyanna wouldn't have let them fight a bloody war over her honour. Ned couldn't imagine that, she would have tried to stop the madness. He supposed Rhaegar could have hid the truth from her, avoiding her slicing his throat in the night. Nonetheless his sister would have done something if she could have.
Ned wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore, but of this he was. However, the only thing that mattered now to find his daughter, to bring her home, to find a solution. Maybe so he would be able to free himself of the guilt in his heart. He should have seen it coming. Arya's hate for the Prince, her vehement claims of his outrages behaviour, his action at the ford of the Trident. Alone the fact that she had dubbed him 'Wormy' should have been more to him than just an amusing side note. He should have intervened sooner, knowing the similarities between her and Lyanna, expecting this to happen. He knew how his daughter's contempt for Prince Joffrey, her wolfblood, but he failed to act.
He had failed Arya, like he had failed Lyanna, Robert, Cat and even Cersei.
The burden he shouldered, ruling the realm, fighting the war for his ward, were no excuse for his sins.
It was a sort of irony, considering the war was nearly won.
The Ironborn were beaten at the Mander, Victarion Greyjoy and his men dead. The host had not shown mercy. Roose Bolton had driven the Ironborn in the river and then had used his position to sweep them up from the flank. Not a hundred men had survived the butchery, most likely effectively wiping out the Ironborn.
Grandmaster Pycelle had voiced this concern to Ned, that with such a loss of men during the battle and earlier, during the invasion by Lord Tyrion of the Iron Islands, the Ironborn might not have enough men left to repopulate properly. He had theorised that in a few generations they could die out. Bolton's brutality in the battle could have ended a people. And it had been his responsibility. The thought had caused a tight knop to form in Ned, worries he had not needed at the time, like now.
Now only Stannis was waiting in the South. Robert's brother had started to implement his new religion in the part of the Reach he controlled. Varys' agents reported the pyres would burn everywhere around Brightwater's Keep and Oldtown, consuming Septons and Maesters alike as well as anyone who defied Stannis. Even the Citadel had not been sacred to the man, going up in flames.
Stannis had always been hard, unbending, but this madness was beyond anything Ned had thought him capable of. All the while, he was claiming to be the rightful heir to the throne with his rediciulous lies. Since marrying Cersei, Ned had come to know the feelings his wife had for her brother. Nothing he learned could support what he had always knew were outrages fabrications.
A cold wind from the north howled on the leaded windows, turning Ned's mind towards his home. Winterfell was free, the Wildlings backed up against the Wall. The host in the North had successfully pushed them back into the New Gift, pinning them there. Ned had not heard much of what was happening up there. He only knew that the Lannister host had pursued an aggressive tactic against the Wildlings, while his liegemen were much more concerned with securing the land, as he had ordered. He received constant letters of complaint against the Lannisters and Jon. Apparently, they followed an own agenda, an agenda Cersei suspected was her brother's.
Whatever happened in Casterly Rock, Ned had surrendered to the notion never to fully comprehend it. Sansa and her husband had become an enigma to him, as well as a source of constant frustration. They were like stubborn children, not listening to what he was saying. Sansa had brought Bran and Rickon to their castle without his permission. She had written Ned a very daring letter afterwards, stating she wouldn't endanger them in the North, not understanding clearly his point. They should have stayed north; they would have been safe. Also, Lord Tyrion's failure to finally broker the King's Peace with the Ironborn on the Iron Islands unnerved Ned. He still waited for the Lannister's solution. He would have to ask for it, most likely.
Everything seemed to crumble before him, his family turned against him. Robb with his constant demands to free Theon, Sansa with her defiance, even Jon with his behaviour in the North, and of course Arya.
Ned sighed heavily, his hands gripping the windowsill strong enough to turn his knuckles white. Was this all his fault and if yes, how could he fix it?
Warm hands circling around his body from behind, pulling him into a light embrace ripped him out of his brooding. The sweet smell of Cersei reached his nose when he felt her laying her chin on his shoulder, her warm soft body pressed against his back fighting against the cold of the outside radiating through the window.
"What are you thinking of so late?" She whispered in his ear gently. He could see the light smile on her face in the reflection of the window, her green eyes fixing his. "You should be in bed not prancing around letting me be cold." She kissed his neck, releasing his tension in the way only she could. The power she had to do that was unique to him.
"Nothing," Ned fended off her question, the concerns in her voice adding to his guilt. He leaned into her, feeling better by her support. "Don't worry about me."
"Do not patronise me" She scolded him harmlessly but with a sharp edge cutting with her words. "I am not a frail doll you have to shield from the world. I see that you suffer, let me help you."
No, she was not a frail doll, Ned reminded himself, she was a lioness, strong and fearsome. Being with her made him feel a certain safety, comfort he had longed for a very long while. He could be himself around her. By the old Gods he had even considered to tell her about Jon, something he had never dared to reveal to Catelyn. Now he felt another type of remorse for trying to hide his thoughts from her behind a façade.
"I am sorry." He breathed out slowly, his eyes not averting from the window. "It is just…" He paused, taking in a deep breath, feeling every inhibition melting away in his wife's embrace. Still his voice was laden with dark, pressing depression: "My children, my family seems to crumble in front of me, and I am helpless to defend what I love."
"You speak of Arya." Cersei pronounced his daughter's name sharply, her hands tensioning around him.
"You must hate her," Ned stated, feeling that same dark knot in his chest, fearing for her answer. He added, his voice nearly trembling in hope for a negative answer: "Do you?"
"She hurt my boy." Cersei whispered after a long pause, in which Ned thought he could see the glass in front of him burst with the tension in the room. "For a long time my children were the only light in my life, the only thing good I did." Her words cut deep in Ned's flesh. He was always so vulnerable to Cersei, so weak. But her words carried not the hate he had feared, only sadness. "Seeing Joffrey I wanted to claw her face out, yes I did. But she is your daughter, Ned. And I will forgive her if it takes this burden off you. I will embrace her again."
Cersei
Cersei whispered the words in his ear, feeling her stomach turn by her own words, the anger racing back in her veins.
The brat Arya had nearly killed her Joffrey, her golden King. Like an animal she had mauled him. When she had seen her poor boy after the attack, after Pycelle had tended to his wounds, she had wanted to make her beg for the Stranger to get her. Pycelle had cleaned her boy's wounds under Cersei's whispered threat in his ear that every mistake he would make would cost him a precious body part. Joffrey was still not awake after the attack. Pycelle keeping him sleeping with his draughts to prevent him from feeling the pain. Her son had lost half his teeth and his nose. Pycelle, the old fool, couldn't save his nose. Instead there was only a gash left, like somebody would have cut it off clean. Cersei had no doubt this wild monster Arya would have done it, if she had only had the stomach for it.
Cersei had welcomed the girl with open arms, offering her her help and wisdom. She had even allowed Myrcella to socialise with her, a thought that now dreaded her the most. She could have done something to her sweet girl as well. Cersei had not borne ill will against Catelyn Tully's girl. She had been stern to her yes. But she had had to, the girl had supposed to be the next Queen and Cersei had only wanted to help her with her calling. But her kindness and charity had been answered with that. How ungrateful the Stark-girls were. Both of them.
Her attention turned back to the man in front of her. His tension seemed to resolve by the words she had whispered in his ear. Cersei felt oddly pleased by the effect she had. It was not the satisfaction she felt when one of her calculated moves bore fruit, but something else, something she hadn't felt in a long time, but now with increasing frequency of late: A serene relaxation.
She took his hand and dragged him away from the window and back in the warmth of their room. They did not bother to sleep in separate rooms like she had had in her former entanglement. Cersei had for once, more control over him, but more important it was by now that she liked him to be with her. She had never been able to sleep alone in a bed, normally having a maid or friend accompany her. Ned was however a preferable option. She felt at peace with him and could sleep well.
Cersei let herself fall back on the mattress, her hands moving behind her, she braced herself on them, putting her body on display for him for a moment, enjoying his lingering on her form, his relaxed stand before her. She slid upwards on the bed until she ended at the rest, outstretching her arms, welcoming. Her husband smiled for a second before awkwardly climbing in bed himself. He rested himself beside her - moving with the stiff elegance Cersei became fond of off late - in a semi comfortable position, allowing Cersei to place herself as she wanted near him. She chose to lie her head at his shoulder, nestling close to him.
He awkwardly laid his arm around her, letting out a pensive sigh. Cersei was feeling affection for his demureness. Robert, or even Jaime would have seized the moment with her on display to ravish her. Each of them would have simply grabbed her legs and rammed themselves into her without warning, falling asleep snoring beside her after…or simply left her. With Ned she had no such difficulties. Sometimes he was even to careful with her, to restraint. Cersei had yet failed to wake the wolf in him. At first she hadn't cared, it had made her control over him easier. By now however she had developed a curiosity what would happen if she could evoke such degrees of passion in him. Not that he was a passionless lover. He was far more attentive than Cersei had hoped, making the effort really worth her time.
"You really will forgive her?" Her husband mumbled in her hair hopefully, his question stirring something in Cersei's chest. Why didn't she judge him as pathetic already?
"Yes." She repeated her lie again, feeling his relief, tension streaming out of his body. Shortly after Arya had marred her baby-boy, Cersei had found back her composure, knowing she could not simply sent a horde of Sellswords after her with the order to bring back her head. She had had to be careful. She even had to control her urge to have Ser Preston ripped to pieces for failing to protect his King.
Cersei had told the lie, easily, intending to unleash her rightful vengeance on the girl in secret. She would always have the opportunity to poison the girl or have her killed in an accident later on. Cersei had learned to wait a long time ago, and now she would put that ability to fruit.
She had successfully asserted herself in a position of power and safety, all on her own. No one, not her Valonqar or his bitch, nor her twin or anyone else could dethrone or hurt her anymore, she was safe. She wouldn't let her anger of the girl topple her. She had survived Robert, she had survived the vile monster, Tyrion, as Lord of Casterly Rock, usurping her birth right, as well as his bitch, Sansa. She had survived Jaime's betrayal, she would survive Arya Stark and would come out on top.
"I love you," Ned made himself noticeable to her again, his words laden with affection. Affection that somehow burned right into Cersei, melted her away. What was wrong with her? She as yet couldn't comprehend how he, the pathetic Eddard Stark, her puppet, could have such an effect on her – to crown it all she even felt compelled to get closer to him now. How did he do that? Making me so vulnerable? So weak? She asked herself silently, gazing up in his simple face, his eyes shadowed by the little light coming from the decrescent moon. She admitted to herself, his face had become more and more handsome to her - why?
"I love you too" Cersei whispered her well practiced sentence, the one Robert had made her say so often in the beginning, the one she had tormented him with later on, when he still had cared, filling the words with her disgust. She had never meant it then.
Now, she no longer was sure. With Ned, it became more and more difficult to decipher between her own lies and the truth of her feelings. Yes, even before, when she had told him she would forgive his beast of daughter, she had not been sure anymore of the true meaning of her own words. Arya Stark had hurt her boy and still, a little thing in Cersei even respected her for that, for standing up for herself. A pathetic little part in her, the same part that felt guilt for her part in his son's maiming. No matter how hard she tried, tried to focus on her goals, it became increasingly hard for her to shake away whatever this Northerner woke in her. She argued with herself it was affection one might feel for a lovesick puppy, a sort of pity for an animal, nothing more.
"I never thought I would make the same mistake." Ned startled her out of her thoughts with the statement. Normally he shut up after announcing his affection for her, not continuing with a miserably bashful tone. He never did something like that.
"What do you mean?" Cersei asked, turning so she could rest comfortable looking up to him, she moved her hand on his chest. She had constricted her curiosity, not to sound too eager. He looked tense, anxiously she felt his heart beat loud under her hand.
"Lyanna never wanted to marry Robert either. She understood his character better than anyone. As well as that he would never change." Ned confessed to her deeply ashamed. Cersei was deeply disturbed by his words. She could feel him tensing up and relaxing simultaneously with every word, his body language ripped between two states. She tried to comfort him with her hand resting on his chest. She beamed supporting at him while he continued. "I did not believe her. Robert was my friend. My father didn't believe her. Nobody knows of it. Of how we failed her."
"Ned," Cersei breathed huskily, her mind consumed by his words, she felt anxiously herself, compassionately. He gazed at her.
"He has Robert's flaws hasn't he?" Ned asked her desperately, his voice shaking a bit. "His recklessness and vanity." Cersei should gouge out his throat for his words, his assessment of her boy. He was not Robert's son, he was Jaime's, how could he have inherited such flaws? Yet she said nothing, felt nothing other than closeness to her husband, a treason of her own. "I won't excuse Arya's deeds," Ned continued, starting to stroke her hair. His emotions darkening the room even further. "I should have been a better father, I should have known what would happen. I saw it with Lyanna, and I was blind when it reoccurred with my own daughter."
Cersei felt an intimacy between them she had never experienced before. He poured out his heart's agony out for her, trusting her with his deepest secrets. And all Cersei felt was a need to help him, defend him and shield him, sooth the pain with all her fire until it was gone. No mind she paid to Joffrey or the insult of him, no mind how she might use these revelations against him. In her mind she saw herself never reveal what he had said to her, keeping it as a token of his love for her. It was hers alone, his trust, his words, only hers. Nobody in the Seven Kingdoms knew what he had entrusted her with. This knowledge became her right, her right alone. This moment became her right.
"It is not your fault," Cersei told him slowly, meaning every syllabus of her words. She moved upwards, pressing a warm tender kiss on his forehead, feeling him exhaling relaxed underneath her. She turned her eyes to his and said: "We will find a solution. I promise."
