Disclaimer: GRRM owns all.

Chapter 55

Eddard

The sun beat down upon his skin.

"Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five," the eunuch counted during the daylight. The seagulls cawed overhead and the sounds of the dock rang in the air. Another eunuch stood beside him with a wax tablet and stylus, making a ledger of the stores they had received this morning. Salladhor trusted no man, so he counted them all to ensure his shipments arrived with the proper number that was promised. Ned himself had helped smuggle them through the dock, which usually was a difficult endeavor. He had to pay the customs officer with bribes, gold, or the simple name of Salladhor Saan. That usually worked.

"All seems to be in order," the eunuch said, scribbling down the last bit of stores. "Wait." He paused a moment to look into the crate. "Just as I suspected," he announced with pride. "We are missing two jars of pepper."

"Salladhor will be unpleased."

"That he will," the other eunuch agreed. Ned sighed to himself and felt uneasy standing upon the docks for so long. His skin would rise at the notion of a-thousand eyes upon him because only one pair could belong to King Stannis pair that could spell doom. He has spies and so does his master of whispers. One whisper about a Westerosi standing upon the docks with white skin and brown hair, and Stannis Baratheon would send men coming this way to drag him back to King's Landing. The thought sent Ned running but he had to stay.

The Braavosi sun beat down on the back of his neck, the breeze of the sea went through the white tunic and tickled his skin. "You, Edric," the eunuch said, "go bring this ledger to Salla." He ripped off the paper and handed it to Ned. "He trusts you more than most—how queer that is to see." His voice was prickly as he spoke. "Here, follow Meizo to see Salla."

Eddard did as bid and followed the eunuch to see Salladhor Saan. The sun was hot this day and warm to the touch. Ned had grown accustomed to the weather of Braavos—warm one day, foggy the next, and sometimes it would rain for days on end. During the sunny days he liked to be on the sea hauling cargo with the breeze to keep him cold. Today was different for the cargo he smuggled had to be counted, so he would spend more time ashore where his discomfort was heightened. Ned did not feel comfortable on land, anymore.

They walked past the docks and fishermen. They would sell their excess stores at a good price: snails, fish of many kinds, shrimp, lobster, crab, oysters, clams, cockles, and other creatures of the sea. Ned liked oysters with vinegar and salt after a hard day. Their shouts were loud and thick in the Braavosi tongue; Ned understood their words. After being around these people for so long he had picked up a lot of their language—he had to in-order to survive at sea for so long. "Fresh clams!" some would yell. "Oysters, not a day old!" another would promote. Ned wished to go buy some but did not have the time.

Meizo led him through the marketplace and past the stands. Many things were being sold from other Free Cities and Westeros at prices Ned could not afford. He did not like being in the marketplace for so long because only the gods knew who could be watching. So many people from different walks of life would come here to trade, and Ned knew that some had to belong to Stannis or have heard of his promises for information. Ned liked to keep his gaze low to the ground, his dress simple, and his face clean shaven. The sun had given his skin a light kiss, very faint, so his complexion would not be so white as it had been when he lived in Winterfell.

Eddard kept following the eunuch and kept his stares low. At times he'd glance up to find the people strutting through the market: men would walk in fine silks with Braavosi swords strapped to their hips—Ned even had one of his own that Salla had given him. "In Braavos," he said, "walking without a sword is a death sentence. Men duel like cats over mice, and just the wrong look could urge one to draw their blade, yes. They're like strutting peacocks anxious to see who has the prettiest colors." Ned thanked him for the sword and noticed the blade was slender. It reminded him of Needle, Aunt Arya's sword. How Ned missed her because at least she was family, although he figured she'd use Needle to poke him full of holes should they meet again.

The Sealord's men walked beside them with a red priest, and bound in chains were normal common folk with the Seven-Pointed Star on their clothes. What a shame, Ned though and turned away. He liked to stay hidden as a stray cat would do in the alleyways. The Sealord of Braavos had declared the religion of the Seven an evil, claiming the Westerosi were trying to overthrow his rule, and the red priests had burned fires every night proclaiming the Seven as false idols. To Eddard it did not matter, he didn't follow the Seven, but the way the worshippers were treated he thought unfair. Those who openly worshipped were arrested and forced to renounce the Faith, usually by torture, and they'd have to stamp on the image of the idols. Septs were trashed or closed. Braavos wasn't that free anymore for those who worshipped the Seven of Westeros.

It at least gives me comfort, he knew, to know that the Sealord does not love Stannis. But Ned knew a king was cunning, and Stannis Baratheon would not be so open as to send his own men wearing the fiery stag. He'll do it in other ways, ways I'll never think of. I must stay on my toes. He fingered the hilt of his sword and moved past them. Those in the crowd booed the worshippers being led away in chains. Ned knew he'd never see them again unless they renounced their gods and gave up the faith.

The shouts of the marketplace dwindled and disappeared, only for cobblestone streets to take their place before them. Bravosi were walking the streets back-and-forth, so Ned kept pace with the eunuch to find Salla. Some were carrying wagons filled with crates, others conversing on the sides of the streets; people were shouting from windows towards those down below with curses and japes. Ned moved as swiftly as he could, make eye contact with no one save a brown-haired courtesan who reminded him of Lyanna. She gave him a sultry smile dressed in emerald silk so fine she could be a high lord's daughter, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Her smile gave way to a kiss sent his way, the fan in her hands fanning her face rapidly. Ned turned away and thought, gods be good, these women are dangerous. They had their own houses, servants, and men would sell their souls for a night with them. Courtesans were as powerful and wealthy as any merchant, magister or keyholder. Some were favored by these powerful men. Ned figured the most famous among them had many tales to tell and held the strings. It was best he stayed away from them.

"We are here," the eunuch said and Ned followed him down a small fleet of steps into an ordinary house made of brick and mortar. Salladhor Saan had his own palace where he'd display his wealth and power, and others concealed in the city so he could hide himself and his stores.

Meizo went inside, came back out, and Ned went through the door. The room was dimly lit with no one there save Salladhor Saan behind a table opening jars of this morning's pepper. Ned clutched the ledger in-hand and walked forward, while the sounds of the city roared outside. "Edric," he said, smiling in the gloom. The notorious smuggler was once Lord of Blackwater Bay, but now he was just some pirate lord as his family history dictated he'd be. He was wearing a wine-colored tunic with high boots of bleached white leather inlaid with silver scroll work. "Here, take a seat," Salladhor offered.

Ned sat and the man opened the jar. "A coarse grind," he said and sneezed. Salla gave another sniff. "And of the second quality, my nose declares. The bill of lading is forty-three jars. Where have the others gotten to, I am wondering? These Pentoshi, do they think I am not counting?"

"It seems they have grown bolder, Lord Saan."

He laughed. "You don't have to call me that, Ned." Again he laughed and said, "No one here can hear us, I assure you. Why must you be so afraid all the time?"

"Many people want my head, Salla."

"And mine." He sniffed the pepper again. "Not their best. I must have words with them, and by me, I mean you. Tell them to include more in the next shipment, as payment, or it's with me they'll be having words."

Ned gave a curt nod. "Consider it done."

"Good. I like you out at sea, Ned, yes. You're one of the only men I can trust, and Salladhor Saan does not trust many men."

"Why do you trust me?" Ned had always wondered but never asked.

"Because you need me, Ned Stark!" Salla laughed again. "I know you won't be betraying me for a promise, I'm thinking, because you need what I have to offer."

Ned knew he was right. "So when is the next time I will go out to sea?"

"As soon as possible," he said. "The next shipment is lace from Myr. Very, very nice quality, Ned; yes, very nice. As token of Salladhor Saan's good will, I'll bestow upon you some for your lady wife along with a seamstress to make her a good dress. Shouldn't that make her happy?" He laughed again. "And we need her happy, Ned, for your sake and mine."

Ned chuckled. "That we do. I give you my thanks for this and all you have done."

"Thank Davos," he replied and scratched his beard. "Would you like some wine?"

He nodded and Salla filled his cup. Ned took it and sipped, only sipping, for he gave up getting drunk on the ship towards Braavos. He made her a promise he intended to keep. "A good vintage," he told Salla.

"Only the best for Salladhor Saan." Salla reached under his desk to take out a parchment. "News from across the Narrow Sea." He slid it to Ned.

Ned set down the cup and read it with haste. "My cousin Jaime marches to the Neck?" He wasn't surprised. "How old is this news?"

"Old," said Salla, "but it's all I have for now. With your weather news comes slowly to my ears now. A shame, yes?"

He laid the parchment down. "Yes, a shame." How Ned wished to see his mothers' penmanship on that page, or news saying he could come back home.

"You'll go home soon, enough." The old pirate gave him a solemn look. "It's still too dangerous, I'm afraid. With all these red priests declaring war against the Seven, Stannis Baratheon will be hesitant to come find you."

"Who says he has to find me with his own men?"

Salla stroked his beard. "I would know of it. I own this city, some say, and I will find out if Stannis moves to betray you."

But how can you be everywhere at once? "I will sleep better at night knowing that, and so will Jeyne."

"Speaking of your wife." The old pirate gave him a sharp look. "You need to break words with her, Ned."

He was surprised to hear it. "What words?"

"My men," he told him, "say she can be spotted in the marketplace every day you are not ashore working that stand with the old lady you both befriended selling lace, silk, dolls, and whatever else. My men say she hides her hair with a shawl, but does that hide her Westerosi beauty?" He tsked. "No, it does not. How long will it be until a customer approaches her only to be a spy for Stannis Baratheon? I can be everywhere at once, yes, but not if you two parade yourselves on the streets without care!" He sighed. "Apologies, my friend, but I look out for the two of you. I know she needs to do things for her sanity yet why this?"

Ned understood. "I didn't know and will talk to her about it, but you don't understand…"

He seemed offended. "Understand? I've been married more than you have, Ned Stark. I know how women can be. Tell them they can't do something and it becomes their life's mission. But this time, yes, her life depends on it. Go tell her my words and see to it that she understands. This benefits both of us, my friend."

"I will. When shall I report to smuggle this lace?"

"I'll give you a few days with your lady wife." He smiled. "Treat her well, Ned, for a beauty like her can't be badly kept. I'll send for you."

Ned gave a nod and left the house. He made for the canal and got into a small boat, untying the rope to give the dock a kick with his boot. The sun had begun to set and a fog rolled over the Long Canal. Ned turned south for the market, where he knew Jeyne would be packing up the stand, and felt anger course through him. How can she be so reckless? He cursed and moved the oar. How can she not care about our safety? Ned shook the thought away and did not want to see Jeyne again so angry. He just felt disappointed, he supposed, in her actions. I know she needs this, Ned knew. She needs this to keep sane, but…I can't smuggle and fear for her safety as I already do. Knowing this will make it worse.

The Long Canal took him beneath the green copper domes of the Palace of Truth and the tall square towers before passing under the immense grey arches of the sweetwater river to the district known as Silty Town, where the buildings were smaller and less grand. Earlier in the day the canal would be choked with serpent boats and barges, but in the evening gloom he had the waterway almost to himself. Ned fingered his sword hilt and knew he had to get home soon. In Braavos, a man with a sword on his hip was open to being challenged to a duel, but only at night; and the sun was setting.

The marketplace was beginning to die down when he arrived and the sun was still setting. Usually it would be filled with sellers, oysterman, clam diggers, stewards, cooks, small wives, sailors off the galleys, and many others beyond count selling anything under the sun. Ned knew some of the things he had smuggled were being sold here such as his spices and lace. During the day all one could hear was the shouting of the haggles but it was not so potent now. At times with Jeyne, when he was ashore, he'd allow himself one day to come and inspect the offerings. Ned had eaten only seafood since arriving, tapping a crate or another with few words to spare. He was not in the mood for making friends in Braavos save for Salla. Jeyne would be the one to haggle, then, using her beauty or stubbornness to win men over, and at times they'd leave with more just because the men were fickle and wanted to impress the foreign beauty. Jeyne would smile to him, a teasing smile, and crack open an oyster to eat. Ned always felt jealous after that.

Eddard stunk of pepper, fish, and brine when he spotted her closing the stand with the lady they'd befriended. Jeyne was the one to befriend her, of course, seeing as it was in her nature to make acquaintance with all who crossed her path. The lady ran a stand in the marketplace selling things from lace, to dolls, to food she'd cooked the night before. Jeyne wished to help her, begged Ned to let her, and he relented only one day a week. But when Salla told him it was now every day, Eddard didn't know what to feel besides the anger. Jeyne was never the one to be so reckless. Aunt Sansa had raised her better than that.

"A fine day!" the lady declared in thick Braavosi. She was stout and fat, with large breasts and a sack of coins in her hands. Her hair was brown, covered by a white bonnet, and her dress was cotton black and plain. "Here, sweet girl," she said to Jeyne and put some coins in her hand. "Buy yourself whatever you like."

"You don't have to pay me," Jeyne said and tried to give the coins back. "I do it because I like it, and I'm fortunate enough that you let me."

"Keep the coins," the lady told her, "and buy what you like. Not to fear, though, for I like your company, and yours is the sweetest."

They both shared a laugh and embraced one another. Ned smiled at that, smiled at seeing his lady wife, and felt a warmth in his breast that the seas had quenched. Sweet Jeyne, lovely Jeyne, he thought warmly. His wife was wearing a silk dress of light blue with an apron over it, and her auburn hair was braided down her back covered by the shawl. Ned thought that silly because the braid still poked out the back of it. He approached the stand to find a few sweets there. Ned eyed one and picked up a blueberry tart. The two ladies had their backs turned to him, packing their belongings.

"How much for this?" he asked.

"We're closed," the lady grumbled.

"I'm willing to pay, my lady," Ned said in the Common Tongue for Jeyne to hear. "Three coppers, should be suffice."

Her gasp made his heart swell and she turned to smile as wide as the Long Canal. "Ned!" she said, softly and almost in a whisper. Jeyne's eyes were wide and batting, her hands clasped together. She was clearly happy. And beautiful. So beautiful. It was enough to make his skin crawl. "Could that be you?"

He laughed. "Who else would it be, lovely wife of mine?"

Jeyne squealed, clearly wanting to go over and hug him, but hesitated when their bodies were so close to touching. He could see the desire plainly in her silver eyes. "I wish to hug you," she whispered, "but I know I can't." She looked about the market. "Who knows who's here?"

"Just hug!" the lady yelled in Braavosi, folding her cloth together. "No one will see!"

Ned shrugged. "You stand here all day, in plain sight. What does it matter now?"

"It matters because then their suspicions would be confirmed."

He chuckled again. "You already squealed and yelled my name; what harm will a hug do?"

Her resolve broke like a dam being shattered by a river, and Jeyne Targaryen, his wife, wiped her hands against the apron to wrap her arms about his neck. Ned held her hips gently, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and Jeyne kissed his cheek. "How I missed you," he whispered to her hair. "My Jeyne."

"Ned…" she said softly and kissed his ear this time, even biting it a little. "Let's go home, please."

"Not before I give my thanks to Lady Feira." Ned strode over to the lady, gave her an embrace, and gave thanks for looking after Jeyne. The jolly lady only smiled saying it was an honor to have her company during the day, even going as far as to give Ned a basket filled with meats, cheese, candied fruits, tarts, seafood, and vegetables. He tried to refuse, of course, but they would've offended her. Instead he accepted with a smile and gratitude, as his mother taught him to do.

Ned held the basket and departed for his house with Jeyne. It was a small thing, shared with another family in the floor below, while they stayed on the top floor in a room with a balcony. Their landlord was ironically Lady Feira, which is why Jeyne made it her heart's desire to befriend her. It landed them protection, less rent to pay, and whatever Jeyne wanted. Lady Feira seemed to love her so, as did Jeyne. She wasn't there to take advantage of the poor lady whose husband was a merchant and sons were off serving in some sellsword company or owners of a brothel.

The streets were becoming deserted as most were probably supping before the night began. Night life in Braavos was lively and the same as any other: drinking, fighting, eating, whoring, and whatever else. Ned didn't come out at night, preferred to stay in with Jeyne because it was best to stay safe. Many-a-time, Jeyne would stand on the balcony to comb her hair and watch the people enjoy themselves. "Please, let's join them, Ned!" she would beg him each time. "Please, let's go!"

"No, Jeyne," he would always say. "We aren't here to have fun. We must be safe." How each time she'd curse him, say she wasn't his to command, but would eventually come around. Jeyne loved him too much to stay mad at him. At times she'd try to sneak out even thinking Ned was none the wiser. "As if I don't know you, Jeyne," he would say, standing at the door to block her way. Jeyne would pout, stamp her feet and go off to bed. He only did what was best for them both because all Ned could dream about was him going out with Jeyne during the night and enjoying themselves. Eating good food, listening to music and getting drunk off Braavosi wine. That's all he would think about when he'd lay in bed with her shallow breath on his chest and the sounds of Braavos outside. Yes, it was only a dream, he would tell himself, and must stay that way.

Jeyne's arm was crooked in his while he held the crate of goods. "How it's been so lonely without you, Ned," Jeyne said. "Were it not for Lady Feira, I'd have gone insane with grief and melancholy."

"I know." Ned sighed. "I feel the same when aboard my ships, below the deck, holed up with nothing but cargo and my thoughts."

"And what thoughts do you think of?"

He smiled at her. "Must I tell you, Jeyne? Only my wife comforts me at night." Ned pointed to the sky with his head. "The moon is my wife, Jeyne."

She was shocked. "Am I not your wife?"

"So I've told many." He kissed her head. "Of course you are. But as my wife, I must tell you that whispers have reached my ear about your whereabouts."

"The streets are so quiet in the evening," she noted to change the subject. "Soon they will be filled with everyone having fun at night while I must hear and watch from the balcony." Ned already knew what she was going to ask. "Please, Ned, can we please go out tonight? We never have and it's been moons since our arrival. Please, Ned."

"I'll think about it," he said truthfully just to make her happy. Ned was in a mood to make her happy. "But not until after we speak, Jeyne—and don't change the subject. It won't work on me."

The crate of goods creaked and Jeyne smiled softly. Ned was beginning to rue his little promise to her. Fool, he scolded himself, why did you let her hope? For Jeyne saying he'd think about it meant a yes if she just pestered him enough. Ned's resolve had broken. But she can't break me. I'm not some brood mare.

Eddard enjoyed the streets in silence with his lady wife and the houses of Braavos never seemed to him. Fortunately for them, Salla had granted a house in a nice district of the city near the marketplace. They arrived and made their way up the stone steps at the side of the house. It was two stories wide, made of brick, mortar, and clay with a small flight of steps leading to the first floor and another on the right side leading to the second. Their steps led right into the street of cobble stones.

Jeyne took out the keys and opened the door. The breeze of Braavos hit him in the face like a cool kiss, tingling his cheeks, and Ned made his way in. Their room had two parts, one at the entrance, and another where their bed was along with a balcony. At the entrance was a small table against the wall with a painting above of it showing the Long Canal during the day with the boats and ferries. A small chair was to their left and into the second part was a big feather bed with coverlets, a night table on each side and a bigger table by the entrance of the balcony with candles, parchment, ink and a quill. A chamberpot remained there, too, where one could empty it into the canal.

Jeyne threw open the windowed doors of their balcony and stepped out onto it. The light cloth drapes which graced them danced in the wind, snapping to the point where one could see through them. "It's so beautiful this night!" she yelled from the balcony. Ned sat on the bed and watched her from behind. Jeyne held the railings and sniffed the wind. "It will be a cool night; I can feel it."

"Best to keep the balcony doors open, then, to let the brisk air through." The sea would send breezes through the canals and into the streets once the sun had set in the sky. It led to nice cool nights where one could sleep soundly. Ned reached down to unlace his boots, wishing to give his feet some respite. He struggled with one boot so draped the leg against his thigh to help untie.

Jeyne turned around and took notice. "Here, let me help you." She rushed to his side and got down to help him.

Ned smiled. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to." She slipped one off and then the other. "I haven't seen you in a fortnight, Ned. Why wouldn't I want to help you?"

"I must leave in a few days, Jeyne." He sighed.

She looked up to him in displeasure. "Why so soon? Can't Salla give us a bit longer?"

"It's because of him we have all of this." Ned motioned to their surroundings. "I can't go and complain that he's working me too hard."

Jeyne huffed. "I knew this would happen. I knew this Saan would use you and wriggle you dry like a washcloth."

"What do you want me to say, Jeyne?" Ned shook his head.

"Nothing, my love." She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth and climbed onto the bed. With her hands she tenderly massaged his shoulders.

It felt nice. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to," she whispered into his ear. Her hands worked him as a butcher did fresh meat, Ned assumed. "You deserve it, Ned, and every moment we share together is precious. Gods know what could happen on the morrow." He could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Nothing will happen to me, Jeyne." Ned turned his head to smile. "I'm safe out in the water; my job is not to be seen."

Her silver eyes welled. "But what if the customs officer arrests you and gives you to Stannis?"

"Salla has them all bought," Ned assured her.

"But I fear for your safety."

"And I fear for yours." Jeyne continued to massage his shoulders and he look back out towards the balcony. "Which leads me to say, Jeyne, that Salla has told me of your comings and goings."

"Let's not talk about that," she whispered hotly into his ear and began to nibble. Jeyne pressed kisses down his ear, cheek, and neck, hoping to distract him. His breath hitched, his loins stireed, and Ned felt warmth spread all over him. Be strong, Ned, he urged himself.

Jeyne continued to kiss his neck and face, even straddling him to kiss even longer. Her tongue went into his mouth, clearly filled with lust and passion, and Ned could tell she had missed his touch over this fortnight as he had hers. His hands held her hips and made their way to her breasts. Her plan had worked and he was on top of her, moving inside, and making love like a man who hadn't in a while. The breeze caressed his back while Jeyne's hips were moving with his thrusts, and Ned groped her breasts until he groaned and finished. Each time he finished he prayed for their twins. He hadn't lasted long seeing as he made love to Jeyne over a fortnight ago. Ned rolled off her, she laid her head against his chest, and they held each other whilst the breeze billowed into the room and the sounds of the people could be heard outside.

"I wish the gods would grant us our twins," Jeyne whispered against his chest. "Since we've arrived I have prayed for it."

"I thought we agreed to let it go," Ned told her.

She looked up to him and smiled. "I lied."

"So did I." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Each time I'm done making love to you I say a prayer, but…the gods answer us with silence."

"They'll answer soon enough."

Ned wished to be more hopeful. "We've been making love since the Merry Midwife, Jeyne, before we arrived to King's Landing. I always spill my seed inside you. I'd say the gods don't want us to have children in Braavos."

"Don't say that, Ned," she said and tensed in his touch. "Have faith."

"I try, but I think it's what we want."

She looked to him again. "What do you mean?"

"Did we not speak of having children in Winterfell? Isn't that what we wanted."

Jeyne nodded. "I hadn't thought of that. But…it would still be nice to have children here." She sighed. "And I've given up on Winterfell."

"Speaking of Winterfell…Salla has told me news from the West."

She sat up in excitement, the coverlets dropping to expose her breasts. Ned gulped his arousal and she asked, "What news?"

"Jaime has marched to the Neck with all of the North. They move to treat with Stannis."

"Seven hells," she cursed and wrapped the coverlets about her chest. "Do you know anything else?"

"No." It disappointed her. "If I did, I would tell you, Jeyne."

"What do you think will happen?"

"Not sure," he said truthfully. "I'm sure they'll sue for peace, Jeyne."

"But what if they didn't?"

"If the Seven Kingdoms were plunged in civil war we'd know it." Ned sat up and threw on his clothes. A light tunic and cotton breeches were his usual fair. "But I don't think Stannis would risk that," he told her standing on the balcony. "With winter they need peace."

Jeyne came up beside him dressed in white with blue. "I should hope so. If the Seven Kingdoms are plunged in civil war we'll never go home."

"I suppose. Although we could sneak into the North should that be the case. Stannis will be so distracted he won't care for us."

"But Stannis is the most tested battle commander in all of Westeros," Jeyne reminded him. Her auburn hair moved in the wind. "Could Jaime beat him with only the North?"

"No," Ned said sadly, "but it won't come to civil war."

Jeyne nodded and tangled her arm in his. She squeezed his hand, laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed. "If only we could go home…"

"If only," he wished with her, "but this city is our home for now." Ned peered over the railings to see all kinds of people moving about the streets. He even smelled wine and cooking from the brothels and taverns.

"I know." Jeyne kissed his shoulder. "I just feel so alone at times with you gone. It's why I spend so much time with Lady Feira."

Knowing that made his heart break at what came next. "Speaking of that," he treaded carefully, "Salla told me how much time you are spending there." Ned looked down at her like a father would his petulant child, he supposed, and the silver eyes looking back up at him with sadness reminded him of his daughter Daenerys. He grew sad and sighed inside. "You can't spend every day there, Jeyne. You're better than that."

"I like it because it makes me happy." She stood up straighter.

"I know, Jeyne, but you must realize that it puts us both in danger. Not just you." He groaned. "I have enough to worry about smuggling as it is, I cannot do so with you at the market stand every day. Do you know how many people walk through its cobbled square?"

"It's why I wear a shawl, Ned."

He sighed. "Jeyne, my sweet, even I can see your auburn hair plain as day. The shawl covers your head, yes, but your hair is long and the braid can be seen draped down your back."

She disentangled from his arm. "What are you asking me, then, Ned? To give up on being happy?"

"No." Ned groaned at her refusal to understand. "I'm asking for you not to go each day, Jeyne. We aren't here to travel, we're here to stay hidden! We are wanted in Westeros for being traitors to the realm! Many men would kill to have that information."

"Don't shout at me!" she snapped. "Or yell at me like some insolent dog! I understand your words, Ned Stark, but you refuse to understand me!"

Ned knew he had to tread lightly here. "Jeyne," he uttered softly; even going so far as to grab her arm gently. "I do understand your melancholy at being in this city without friends or me, or our family." Ned sighed for her. "But…this is a sacrifice we both undertook to stay alive. This comes with some consequences, as my father would always tell me."

"As would mine," she whispered, sounding like a child in her understanding. "I do understand, Ned, what you are saying. I do, trust me. It's just…" She sighed heavily.

Ned braced her shoulders. "I know. You need things to do, and you're not the sort of person to be cooped up in a house as if it were a cage. But…what would you have of me?"

She gave him a meek look. "Two days a week?"

Do I have a choice? "Fine. Two days is fine." The happiness was clear on her face, but he warned, "Try to make them days which are not so busy."

"But each day is busy, Ned."

"Yes, but towards the end of the week people are given their payment and are more likely to visit the marketplace."

She nodded. "I understand. Oh, Lady Feira will be so disappointed that I won't join her each day. She'll try to convince me otherwise, saying that I needn't worry so much."

"Lady Feira has everything to gain and nothing to lose."

"You're right." Jeyne went into his embrace and sighed. "I like Braavos, I do, but I want to go home. I hate fearing for my life each day."

"I know what you mean."

"But when will it end, Ned?" Her body was warm and soft against his. Ned liked the feeling.

"When Robert is Hand and Shireen the Queen of Westeros."

"We'll be here long, then. Stannis won't give up his crown until age demands it of him."

Ned knew that to be the truth. "Stannis Baratheon is so dutiful that only something such as age would force him to give up the crown. We could be here for many years."

"And with winter coming, it'll be too dangerous to return unless we did now." She turned to him with a hopeful stare. "What if we did, Ned, return now? What if we snuck on a ship bound for White Harbor?"

How Ned often dreamt of the idea in his impatience. "I sometimes think the same," he whispered to her. "Yet that act will condemn our family to death."

"Would it?" she said after returning to looking out onto the night life. "Only if we are caught…"

"Don't be selfish, Jeyne," Ned admonished softly. "We did what we had to, yes, but we don't have to drag our family into this."

"It's all Lyanna and Casella's anyway." Her voice dripping with venom.

"And my own, Jeyne."

She tensed in his embrace. "If you hadn't rushed her, yes, I know. I suppose you're right in preaching caution, Ned. I'm just being selfish."

"I think the same, Jeyne, not to worry. I'm not perfect. I also want to go home…" He sighed. "Through White Harbor, under a ship, but what holds me back is the idea of us getting caught and my children suffering because of it. Of Jaime being killed and civil war plaguing the North. Stannis would put some puppet lord in Jaime's place, not a Stark, and those loyal to our house would rise with us whilst those loyal to the other would stand by him. See the issue?"

She nodded against him. "I do. We must wait and be patient."

"Easier said than done," he had to admit. "The notion of going to White Harbor under a guise is most tempting…"

"Then why don't we do it?" she urged him. "We have enough coin, Ned."

"No, we can't." He shook the notion away like a fly. "It's too foolish, Jeyne." Her hair was warm against his lips and Ned remembered she was only twenty-and-one. Jeyne's youth at times got the best of her. She hasn't seen the world beyond Winterfell and Karhold. The North is all she's known. "Best to not think of it again, Jeyne," he advised.

"It's so hard, Ned."

"I know." He smiled and thought of something else. The streets were filled with people getting drunk on whatever took their fancy. Ned peered over with Jeyne to see lit lanterns gracing the entrance of each tavern, winesink, inn, or brothel. It looked lovely this night with a bright moon overhead. Jeyne's insistence at making a trip to White Harbor under guise left a foul feeling in the pit of his stomach; a feeling that best need be forgotten. Even in his own soul, Eddard Stark wished for the same as she. Best be forgotten. "I have an idea," he said and the smile she bore for him was all the pleasing.

"What idea?"

"Why don't we go down there," he suggested with a motion of his head. "Let's spend the night with the Braavosi."

Her smile grew. "You cannot be serious, Ned?"

"I am." Ned held her tighter. "Why don't we go down there and forget about White Harbor? It's the least I can do for you."

"Oh, I'm so happy," she squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll have to get ready."

Jeyne left him in her excitement and he decided to linger on the balcony for a moment longer. Am I doing the right thing? He questioned of himself. The notion of going down there amongst the Braavosi during the night filled him with dread. Gods knew who was watching? Ned only wished to make his lady wife happy, to see her forget about Winterfell, and he supposed that was a good a reason as any. She's young and wants to see the world. Who am I to deny her? At times Jeyne spoke of traveling to Meereen to walk the steps of Ned's mother—yet he knew her heart was not in that idea. They didn't know the land or anyone save Salla, so it was best to stay in Braavos where they were comfortable.

He went inside and found her brushing softly. Ned sat on the bed, listening to the wind and decided to dress as simply as he was. Braavosi weather didn't permit much else. "I'm thinking of dying my hair," Jeyne said as she brushed. "My mother dyed hers black once, whilst in the Vale, so why can't I do the same? If it's my hair color you fear, Ned, then I should dye it, no? No doubt Lady Feira can help me in that regard."

I love your hair, though, Ned wished to say. He did love the auburn Tully hair Lady Sansa had given Jeyne. But he knew that if he told her that, Jeyne wouldn't dare touch it; and the idea of dying it was a good one. "A swell idea," he said and she nodded.

Jeyne was finished looking like a fair lady; her beauty was enough to rival the maid herself. Braavos was alive when they made their way down the streets: men were talking to courtesans, others were drinking and conversing around tables outside, and some would even challenge each other to duels using their slender blades. Ned had left his at home. He was in no mood to duel and the Braavosi bothered no one without it. They walked the streets for some time until they arrived outside some sort of winesink with tables and chairs outside. Ned sat with Jeyne around one, Braavosi around them in idle conversation and laughs. A lantern hung above the entrance on each side of the door sending orange-red light into his face. Ned did not mind.

A lady filled their goblets with wine and brought them some sort of pie filled with crab meat. Ned sat idly in his chair listening to the sounds of Braavos around him; he liked being out of his home for once, that was to be sure, but still there was an uneasiness to eat. He'd try to stare into his goblet or pie, keeping his eyes downcast so as to not attract attention. To Ned this was just danger—who knows what sort of people sat around them! Jeyne, on the other hand, sat next to him all the glee. She held his hand under the table and ate the pieces of pie like a lady—daintily and carefully with little bites and sips of wine in-between.

"How I love this night!" she exclaimed to him and the sounds of Braavos rang in his ear: laughs, conversation, eating, music and merriment. "I'm so glad you agreed to this." She planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

"Yes, yes," he grumbled and stared into his wine goblet. A pool of red stared back at him, but in the gloom it looked almost black; it reminded him of the black pool in the godswood of Winterfell.

"Is something the matter, Ned?" Jeyne asked worriedly. "You don't seem with me, tonight."

He startled himself to attention. "What was that?" Her silver eyes conveyed a certain worry and the auburn hair shone like copper. "Did you ask me something?"

"Yes," she replied, "I asked what was wrong."

"Nothing," he lied, "nothing is wrong."

She clenched his hand and wiped her mouth with the other. "You're lying." Jeyne set the napkin down. "Why don't you tell me?"

Eddard eyed his surroundings nervously. Most people were hunched over flagons of wine and were distracted by the merriment. "I-I feel uncomfortable," he whispered to her. "I feel as if someone is watching us."

"You're too paranoid," she whispered back. "No one is watching us."

"Look at who's around." He gave his surroundings another quick glance. "Any of them could be Stannis's."

"You're spending too much time under ships."

Perhaps she's right. "Mayhaps, but what can we do?"

She sighed. "Enjoy this night, Ned."

"How I wish I could." Ned grabbed his goblet and took another sip. "I'm sorry, Jeyne," he apologized, "but I worry for the both of us, it seems."

She touched his face gently. "Just be here with me, Ned. All of this is out of your control."

Ned took her words to heart and gave a curt nod. The wine was warm against his tongue and sweet to match. "More wine?" the owner asked in the Common Tongue. Ned had not seen her there.

"You speak the Common Tongue?" Jeyne asked.

The owner smiled. She was a short lady but was thin and old. "Yes," she replied, holding a flagon. "I'm from Westeros."

"So are we!" Jeyne swooned and Ned felt his stomach churn. He dug his nails into the palm of Jeyne's hand. "From where do you hail?"

"The Riverlands!" the owner exclaimed. "I can tell from your accent that it's not the South."

"Why—" Jeyne was about to say but Ned stopped her by whispering, "Lie, Jeyne."

She nodded. "I was born in the Neck."

"So you say." The owner smiled again. "I reckon from how you speak, you're highborn. Why are you in Braavos? Shouldn't you be marrying some lordling?"

Jeyne smiled and Ned's heart was racing. How he wished to get up and leave. Gods knew who this lady was, or why she cared so much about their origins. His skin crawled and in his nerves drank another cup of wine. "My husband is right beside me." Jeyne gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "We've been married some three years, now."

Ned gave the lady a half-smile and gulped his wine. "I grow more in-love each day," he said and the ladies swooned. Jeyne gave him another kiss on the cheek.

"Young and in-love." She refilled their flagon. "I would bless you both, but seeing as it's dangerous to do so in Braavos, it's best not to. Instead I say, good luck and come back whenever you'd like." The owner smiled and nodded, and Ned did the same.

"Why did you speak to her?" Ned whispered angrily after she was out of earshot. "Gods know who she was, Jeyne."

Even in the orange-red light he saw her face flush from anger and wine. "You can't be skeptical of the whole world, Eddard," she whispered back. Her hair shone again. "And I will not be rude to this sweet lady. Just because she's Westerosi doesn't mean she is a spy for Stannis."

Ned shook his head. "Sweet Jeyne, lovely Jeyne. Sometimes I forget you haven't seen the world as I have."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're too trusting of people," he said, as kindly as he could, "and you want to help the world. You have a kind heart, which is fine, but…out here, it can get us killed. Didn't you think it queer how that lady was all too curious about us?"

She didn't like his words. "She was just being kind!" she spat in a whisper. "And I won't change who I am, Eddard, because you're worried that this wine flagon is a spy for Stannis!" Jeyne took an angry drink from her goblet. "I want to have fun tonight, and you won't spoil it because you're paranoid that this chair I am sitting on is writing a raven to Stannis as we speak." She crossed her arms and huffed.

Ned sighed to himself and thought, can a man ever win when arguing with his lady? He didn't know and figured not. "Will you try to comprehend my side?" he asked her.

"Don't speak to me now, Ned," she seethed. The rest of the night was spent like this. Eddard held her hand and walked the streets, deciding not to broach another word with his lady. Jeyne held his hand for safety and propriety, but nothing more. She tasted treats off vendor's carts, sweetwine from others, and danced with him in the middle of a square to musicians and lights. Ned liked that the most. He tried to enjoy the moment with Jeyne, as she bid of him, but the Westerosi tavern owner left a sick feeling in his stomach.

Ned laid in his bed that night staring out the window whilst the sea breeze sent gusts of cool wind into their chamber. They left the balcony doors open so the curtains could be seen dancing in the wind. Jeyne laid beside him with her back turned to him wearing a white nightshade and her auburn hair down her back. She was upset with him for his paranoid nature and his attempt to say she was naïve and young. How Ned should have known better than to tell a woman she was wrong in something. Even with Lyanna had been this way, with Casella as well. Ned shook his head of both of them.

Morning came and went. Jeyne and he reconciled the next day speaking of how they had to meet in the middle. She was too in-love to stay mad at him, and Ned supposed he could act less paranoid about everything around him. But with the weight of them both on his shoulders what could he do? Jeyne and he spent their few days together in their house, going to temples, or ferrying themselves down the canals. Ned liked doing that the best because the sea breeze felt nice against his face.

Meizo came for him at first light on the fifth day. The eunuch was waiting on the street below and wasted no time in dressing for him. A light tunic, boots, and cotton breeches were always his dress of choice. Jeyne and he had slept in each other's arms the night before, making love under the stars wishing the gods would grant them their twins. She wept for him when seeing her off with tear streaks down her beautiful face and tangled hair to match. "I love you too much," she cursed and japed as Ned kissed her once more and left. Jeyne turning over onto their bed in sadness was the last thing he saw of her before he left. He sighed and thought, the things I do for love.

Eddard Stark kept himself in the belly of a trading galley for a week this time. Most smugglings began with him being rowed out to sea in a longboat to sneak upon a trading galley during the break of dawn. The captain would keep him under the ship with a hammock to sleep on. Ned would hide in an empty crate of cargo with the rest of the storage while the customs officer would check their wares before going out to sea. His heart would pound out of his chest every time he did. They'd pass under the Titan and go out onto open waters after given permission to leave.

Out in open sea they'd meet their associates and transport the cargo. In crates they brought the lace, in empty tubes they'd bring the silk, and as Ned helped load it below deck he thought of Jeyne in her new dress. He smiled at her beauty. Most of the time she was on his thoughts, it was how he past the time. Ned would lay in his hammock with the stars and moon as his friends, but Jeyne was the only person in his mind. How he wished for her comfort, words, and encouragement. Jeyne was always there for him. He felt like the luckiest man in the world to have her at his side. Ned thought of his family, too. He thought of his mother, cousins, and father. He wondered if James Stark ever thought about his own Jeyne, the one loved besides their mother. Ned had heard the stories. He pondered on his children with Lyanna, too. He thought about them most of all after Jeyne. Ned wondered if Little Dany was growing into a beautiful young lady, if Val was becoming half-a-horse, and Brandon the shy child who was going to take after him. It kept him sane.

After a week at sea, Eddard heard the Titan's yell. He could remember first hearing the blaring horn of the Titan sounding their arrival. Goosepimples raised upon his skin when he did, and now as then, Ned's skin still crawled. He'd hide below deck with the storage and hid in his crate when the customs officers inspected the galley. Fortunately for them this officer had already been bought by Salladhor Saan. Ned was just tired and weary after this week even though Myrish lace and silk was easier to transport over jars of pepper. He just wished for Jeyne's arms and a warm bath.

Meizo counted meticulously and gave Ned the ledger. This time the Pentoshi's did not swindle them out of their storage numbers. Ned had a firm conversation with the man, as Salla told him to do, and the Pentoshi smuggler just laughed and assured all was well. Eddard didn't believe him but what could he do? Call the man a liar? A good way to start a fight, that would be.

After Meizo had counted the stores, Ned went over to see Salla in his home. He followed the eunuch there to find the notorious pirate behind that same desk. After seeing Eddard he laughed and smiled, giving him food and wine while looking over the ledger. Salla approved, boasting Ned of fine work, and gave him crates of silk and lace. He promised Ned that on the morrow the seamstress would come to see them, and to his joy reported Jeyne only going to the stand twice this week. Saying she could be seen with Lady Feira sharing tea every morning at the tavern near their house, and she'd even bring Jeyne food for the midday meal. The smile which graced his lips had not in such a long time; he was happy Jeyne granted him this much. He loved her for it.

Ned left Salla to go to the market. Mayhaps Jeyne will be there, he hoped. How Eddard couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she notices the lace and silk in his arms. The crate felt light as a feather, and Eddard Stark marched through the market with a smile on his face. He gave nods to other people, smiles to most, and felt happy to be home with his Jeyne. Ned felt care free, it was a queer feeling to be sure. All was right to him in the world in this moment.

Lady Feira's stand came into view and he did not see Jeyne there. His heart sank, the disappointment swept across him like a wave, but Ned kept his composure. He was sure Jeyne was in their house sleeping or staring out the balcony. Ned just wanted to surprise her with the lace and silk.

He approached the stand. "Lady Feira," he introduced in Braavosi. "How are you?"

She turned to him and feigned a smile. "Edric, I did not expect you back so soon."

"A had good luck this time." Ned saw some sweat on her head and felt uncomfortable. "Where is Jeyne?" he asked.

"She-she did not come today."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you and her share tea each morning? Did you not see her today?"

The lady shrugged. "She did not come to share tea with me, either."

Ned did not like the worried look, the sweat on her forehead, and even the sadness behind her eyes left him worried. Something is wrong. Very wrong. "It's not like Jeyne to not share tea without reason. Did you check on her during the midday meal? You usually bring her something…"

Lady Feira hesitated. "I-I was too busy today with the stand."

"Has something happened to her?" When she did not answer, he said, "Lady Feira…tell me. Has something happened? It's not like either of you to not check on each other." His heart raced like a horse.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, Ned," she said and turned around.

Ned let go of the crate and it crashed onto the ground. Lace, silk, and thread spilled out and littered everywhere, but he did not care. Eddard Stark raced towards the house pushing people aside, cats scurrying away, and others shouting curses his way. His feet moved swiftly, his heart raced, and his mind moved with the pace of his feet. What if she's died? He thought. What if she's gone missing or left me alone in Braavos? What if she's left to Winterfell in her desperation? Ned had faith in his Jeyne.

The door to the first floor of their house was open. People were still moving up-and-down the street around it, but they did not seem to notice the door. Ned thought it queer. He didn't share many words with the family below but they always kept the door closed—and during the day it meant something was wrong. Ned wasted no time and entered the house quickly. He found the family cowering behind a table. It was a woman with two small children. Their house had been ransacked: chairs, vases, flagons, and all other things thrown about. It was if they were looking for something, or someone.

"What's happened here?" Ned asked them in his odd Bravosi accent. He could see the fear in their eyes. "I mean you no harm," he swore, raising his hands. He remembered the sword at his side. "I just want to know what happened. I won't use this sword for anything. Please, tell me."

The mother approached him, hesitantly. She had dark raven hair and swollen eyes with tears from fear. "Men came," she said to him. Ned glanced her children over the ladies shoulder. Their eyes glared at him from the darkness underneath the table. "They were dressed like normal, everyday people, but asked where the foreign woman with the red hair was. They-they threatened my children."

Ned's heart beat fast. "Where did they go?"

"Upstairs," she wailed and pointed upwards. "They went up there. They-they said they'd kill me if I didn't tell them."

"How many?"

"About six." She sobbed and Ned had no time to waste. He rushed upstairs to find their home ruined and items strewn about. The small painting was on the floor with the frame and glass broken. Wind billowed into their room making the balcony curtains dance, and Ned noticed their bed a mess from someone wrestling on it. Where is Jeyne? He thought and feared the worst.

The chair near the entrance was broken, the candles thrown about the floor, and even the ink was spilled onto the table covering the parchments in black. Ned even noticed droplets of blood on the coverlets as if someone had been hit, and more were on the floor. He followed them to see a smear of blood on the wall—not too much, but still fresh enough to show they had not been long.

Eddard ran down the stairs and onto the street. People were moving back-and-forth and Ned moved about them. He looked about to hope and see Jeyne, but on the cobbled stones he saw droplets of blood big enough to mark a trail. It was smeared because of the footsteps…how has anyone not taken notice? Suddenly he heard a shriek and it was all too familiar. Ned Stark peered over heads to see a girl kicking-and-screaming while six men were holding her firmly. She had auburn hair.

Jeyne! He pushed through the crowd sending whatever items they held crashing onto the floor. Ned didn't care. He felt like some great war galley with the wind at his back—cutting through the sea like a great big snake or kraken. Ned's eyes were firmly fixed on Jeyne and the men holding her. Most had their hoods up, others down, and Ned noticed Braavosi with men of a paler complexion. All were armed. Jeyne would kick-and-scream from time-to-time, punching or kicking, but they held her firm. One even hit her in the face and anger coursed through Ned the likes he'd never felt.

He followed them over a bridge until they made a right into an alleyway. A cat hissed at his feet before scurrying off into the Braavosi streets. Ned Stark caught up with them and Jeyne kept screaming. "Put her down!" he shouted with their backs turned to him. "Give her back!"

"Ned!" Jeyne wailed and the men turned around. All were hard men, he noticed. Four were olive-skinned men from Bravos or some other Free City, and two were of a paler complexion.

A man with brown hair laughed. He wore rags and a slim sword at his belt. "We knew she'd lead us to you."

"Put her down," Ned urged. He drew his sword. It was nimble and light in his hands. "Put her down and I won't kill you."

They all laughed at him. Mockingly and without care the guffawed. "You and whose army, Ned Stark?" The brown hair man spoke the Common Tongue like any man of Westeros. "Stannis Baratheon is at my back. Who's at yours? Leave us and you'll live. We can forget this happened."

"I can't allow that." Ned gripped the hilt and eyed the men. The eyes see true, his aunt Arya told him once. She had taught him some sword work after the siege of Winterfell by the wildlings. Arya Stark herself had killed six wildlings warriors as if it was nothing, so Ned became curious. She taught him to see with his eyes and not his head. One man had a dagger, another a sword, and the rest had small axes on their hips. Axes would take time to draw, whilst swords and daggers were easy. They all were older men—maybe smugglers, pirates or sellswords Stannis had contracted. It was not beyond him to do such things. Ned was trained in a castle by Maester Willem. Surely he had training on his side.

The man who held Jeyne drew his dagger and laid it on her throat. "Leave or we'll kill her."

Ned's hands were sweating, his forehead too, and he gulped away his nerves. "You cannot do that," he replied, "for if you do, King Stannis won't pay you with gold but your head. He wants her and I alive, don't you see? It's best you put that dagger down."

"Who says we killed her?" The brown haired man stepped forward. "Mayhaps we were boarded by pirates and they did."

Jeyne squealed and Ned said, "And I'll tell the King otherwise. Who will he believe? A traitor or pirates he's paid? Are you willing to chance that?"

"You've got me there." He tsked. "Put your sword down and we won't rape her, how about that? King Stannis spoke of keeping her alive, but who cares about her virtue? I'm sure he won't…"

"Don't do it, Ned!" Jeyne screamed.

"Quiet!" the man who held the dagger yelled at her.

"She is quite pretty," the brown haired man said. "I'm sure we will all enjoy having her. And you can watch…"

Ned gripped his sword harder and said nothing, for what could he do? If he fought them, they'd win after some time. He couldn't face six men in such an enclosed area and expect Jeyne to come out alive. She could kick, scream, bite, claw, but…they'd just hit her or stab her, or…he didn't know. They'd be on him quick as spit and he had no armor on. Just a light tunic with some breeches and a slim blade. It was not enough for him to win.

"Unless you put the sword down," the brown-haired man urged. "If you come with us, I promise you both the best passage to King's Landing. I won't harm the either of you, I promise."

Ned Stark accepted his defeat. "Fine." The sword clanked when it hit the cobbled floor and the men laughed at him.

"Take him," their leader ordered and the rest approached. One punched him in the gut, the other in the face, and Jeyne's cries could be heard over their blows. "That's for your insolence," the leader growled. He punched him again in the face.

Two men stood him up the arms and another brought over some rope. "Tie him."

The rope was tight around his wrists, making his hands go cold and numb. He was lead next to Jeyne who had blood out of her nose and mouth. Ned could see she had resisted in their house. Her eyes were red, her face mixed with blood and tears. "I love you," she whispered and Ned nodded. He felt like a coward and a failure.

A man whimpered, olive-skinned and black haired. "How do you fare?" the leader asked him.

"The wound should be fine," he replied in Braavosi. Ned glanced to see a gash on his stomach as if Jeyne had slashed him there with broken glass. It's what he liked to think, anyway.

The leader gave a nod and his brown hair bounced. "Good. Let's take them to the docks, quickly, and to the King. We'll be rich beyond our dreams with lands and titles."

Ned and Jeyne were lead together towards the end of the alley. They shoved them forward, kicked at their legs, and Ned stumbled only to receive a punch in the gut. "Leave him alone!" Jeyne shouted and they laughed.

But their laughs subsided when they reached the end of the alley.

An old man blocked their way dressed in a white leather cloak with the hood over his head. Ned had seen him before. "It's the man from the House of Black and White," Jeyne whispered as the leader approached him.

"Out of our way, old man," the leader cursed. The old man said nothing and he drew his sword. "Out of our way, or we'll— "blood came out his neck like a fountain and when his body dropped to the ground, Ned Stark saw a bloodied dagger in the old man's hand. The other men were startled, pushing Ned and Jeyne together to the ground, and he saw them draw their weapons.

The old man whistled and Ned swore he heard the sounds of arrows. He sat up with Jeyne in his arms, to see three of the five men dead on the ground with throwing knives in their throats and a crossbow bolt in the last. Eddard looked up to see shadows move about the rooftops around them, and the last man cowered in the middle of his fallen comrades clutching his axe. Ned turned back to the old man and he hadn't moved. He simply stood there with the bloody dagger in one hand and the dead leader at his feet.

The last remaining man dropped his axe to run towards the opposite end of the alley. His hurried footsteps echoed off the walls until one heard a gurgle followed by a thud. Ned stood up, Jeyne with him, and she cowered into his embrace. The old man approached them.

"Who are you?" Ned asked cautiously. His face was burning from the punches, his stomach aching from the blows. "Why did you save us? I remember you from the House of Black-and-White." Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him and turned with Jeyne to see three men in hooded cloaks standing there. Each had leather vests over their cloaks with throwing knives, swords, and daggers on their belts. One had a crossbow strapped to his back, too. Some had more weapons than others, and the man in the middle was dark of skin sporting a grin. His cloak was a dark green, more olive, instead of white.

The old man stood there while Jeyne sniveled into his shoulders. Ned hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "It's fine, Jeyne, all his fine. They're dead, my love." He focused his gaze on the old man. "Who are you, I said?"

"It matters not who I am," he finally said in a smooth voice. "What matters, Ned Stark, is if a man is ready to face his destiny." The old man removed his face to reveal another. Ned's heart sank, Jeyne even looked up to see, and the face he wore now was of a man with red hair on one side and white on the other.

Ned and Jeyne shared a glance of surprise. "How did you do that?" Jeyne asked. "Are you a faceless man?"

"Yes, who are you?" Ned asked.

The man's face was like stone. "Come with us."

"Where are we going?" Jeyne asked.

"Why to the House of Black and White," the red-white haired man replied and they followed. Ned felt apprehension, nerves, and his stomach twisted and turned. The only thing that calmed him was Jeyne and the men at their backs. He could feel the dark-skinned man's grin on him.

Have faith, Ned, the voice returned again. Move forward. And as if they weren't his own, Eddard Stark's feet did.

A/N: K, yeah, surprise, I guess.