A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own GOT and only write for fun.
Eddard
That night Ned dreamed of his own death for the first time in years. He could hear the crowd jeering at him and screaming. He could feel the objects thrown against his body, as if they were there, throwing things at him as he lied in his bed. He could see King Joffrey giving the signal to remove his head and watched as the look of horror replaced Sansa's hopeful facade.
He then felt the weight of Ice, sharp against his neck and he woke up again, his breath was heavy, eyes wide. He was wide awake then. It was hard to go back to sleep after such a dream. Even harder when he knew it was all real.
He found himself in the same places, playing the same parts as he did before. He knew when his moment to strike would be, knew it was coming, but still knew he must weight. Still, his actions weighed heavy on his mind.
"I stood vigil for him myself," Ser Barristan said, breaking him from his thoughts. It was the same as before, just a different body. This time instead of Ser Hugh, it was a random knight from the stormlands that Ned could not put a name to. "He had no on else. A mother who died long ago, but that was it."
It amazed him how similar this seemingly unknown man and Ser Hugh were. The gods had seen it fit to replace one life with one death. The thought of it frightened Ned. Arthur lived, so Roose had to die but Roose died the first time so did that count? Or would another still die in his place?
"We all die in the end," his father would say but back then, when he was alive it felt so distant, so far away. Now that he had lived twice, it never felt so real… but then again, what if he were cursed? What if the gods had seen it fit to torture him by reliving the same life over and over again as punishments for his mistakes?
There was only one way to find out. To die again. The gods were cruel.
"He fought by King Robert's side during his rebellion," Ser Barristan added. "He was valiant, and brave, everything a true knight of the seven kingdoms should be. The last of a dying breed."
"The valiant never taste of death but once," Ned responded. Ser Barristan gave him an odd look but Ned didn't care. It was time to convince Robert not to be an idiot again.
Each time, it grew harder and harder to not let the man make his mistakes. It had seemed so obvious to him, this time around, what Cersei was trying to set him up for. If it were this obvious in his past life, Ned would have tried to save him. This time, while he would not kill his friend himself, he had zero inclinations to save him either. Had Robert been the man he once was, Ned would of thought about it.
He was no longer that man.
"The King means to fight in the melee today," Ser Barristan said as they were passing the many pavilions set up along to way to Robert's own. Ned just shook his head grimly. He wasn't interested in this conversation, not this time.
He had wanted to let Robert fight, but it was too soon for his death, Ned wasn't ready yet. It wasn't time for him to strike yet, and he knew he had to be patient. Events would unfold just as they had before in the capital, he just had hoped that he was making the right choice.
He had found his friend in the same exact condition as he did last time, drinking beer from a horn and getting angry because his old armor did not fit.
This time, Ned couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe if you spent some time in the yard, that armor of yours would fit."
It was a bit brazen for sure, but with Robert Ned knew what he could get away with and what he couldn't. He would try to argue less with the man this time around. He would enjoy the time they had left, try to remember why they had been friends in the first place.
Robert's laughter boomed throughout the tent, suddenly, and was gone as quick as it came. "Ah, damn you, Ned, why are you always right?"
"I've been right since we were boys," Ned responded, "you were just never smart enough to listen."
Robert smirked. "And what honorable advice would the great Ned Stark give me now?"
"I would say that your in zero condition to participate in a melee. I would say that you look like you haven't been in a training yard in years, and if you have, those men around you would rather dance and play politics then truly challenge you in that yard. No man here is brave enough truly challenge you and risk injuring their king."
"You too?" the king frowned. "Are you like my wife, the blasted woman thinks I should not fight in either. I thought you would be different. Tell me, what happened to the boy who rose at the light of the first son to practice his sword? Tell me the north hasn't frozen all of that out of you."
"Life happened," Ned responded simply. "As it must. You are the king now. Surely you understand that."
"I never wanted this damn crown," Robert roared as suddenly as his laughter before. "I sit on the damn iron seat when I must, but I miss the days where me and you rode around the vale picking fights and stealing girls. Those were the days."
"I never stole any girl," Ned responded.
"Still honorable as ever, I see," Robert said. "What was the name of the girl you fucked during the war, the bastards mother? What I would pay to meet her, the woman who thawed Ned Stark."
"It is not important," Ned responded through gritted teeth.
"Aye," Robert responded, "but am I not the same as other men? I want to hit someone, to feel what it would be to have a man crushed under my hammer. That is living."
Ser Barristan found it in himself to speak up again. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?"
Robert glared at him hard, as taken aback by his words as he was before. "All of them, if they can. And the last man left standing…."
"Will be you," Ned finished for him again with a tired sigh, he then spoke quietly. "Or maybe it won't be. We believe someone poisoned our foster-father Lord Aaryn, what if this is their opportunity to get rid of you. Make it look like an accident?"
Robert narrowed his eyes at him before he spoke again, his voice dangerous, "Is that what you think? That this is some rouse for someone to try to kill me?"
"I only see space and opportunity. If you want to fight so bad, meet me in the yard tomorrow. I'll get you into shape but only a fool of a man as important as you would allow your guard down to fight in some stupid tournament. I don't take you as a fool my friend, I never have. We must focus on finding out what happened to Jon, not some fleeting glory."
He raged again. He shouted and threatened Ser Barristan with his life he did not leave. He spoke about the same things he had done before, about giving up the crown, about how he wouldn't because of Joffrey and Cersei. For a while it was just like his old life. With Robert telling stories of the Vale, and him laughing and smiling more eager than before. He would enjoy it while he could.
Robert would be dead soon, and as hard as it sometimes was, there was nothing he would do about it.
He had found Sansa in the same spot as she was the day before, this time alone as Septa Mordane had fallen sick again. He didn't mind it as much this time as he did the last. He quite enjoyed spending more time with his daughters. He had all the answers this time, he just had to fake like he didn't, so it made it much easier to spend time around the castle with Sansa, or even feeling like a fool practicing his balance with Arya.
It was one of the best things about living twice, and some of the only times he felt blessed to do this life all over again, not so that he could change things, but so he could feel a couple things twice. Spending this time with his daughter was one of those.
"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced loudly as Jamie Lannister entered the list.
"Done," Lord Renly shouted back. "The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning."
"I have to say I agree with you, Renly," Ned spoke confidently with a smirk. The joys of knowing th future. "The Hound will win."
"Then I have a hundred golden dragons for you as well Lord Stark," Littlefinger said smugly, his voice filled with as much confidence.
Ned smiled back sweetly, "surely a man of your stature wouldn't offer me a bet so low. Five hundred golden dragons?"
He truly enjoyed putting Baelish down every time he could. Eventually, he would force the man to spill every sin he had ever committed before taking his head. It was a thought that pleased him much more than it should have.
The two participants rode hard and fast at each other. It was the same as before, the Hound's lance smacked harmlessly against the Kingslayers golden shield before he was nearly knocked off his horse.
The Hound was an interesting man. The visions that the gods gave him of his children showed him having a complicated relationship with both of his girls. He had tried his best to keep Sansa from Joffrey's wrath. He had gone from a name on Arya's list to a man she had come to respect before she left him to die by that tree.
None of that would happen again. Sansa would not be left in King's Landing, and Arya certainly wouldn't be traveling by herself in the Riverlands. Sure, being a faceless man might be useful, but again, death hadn't changed him that much. Both of his daughters would be on a Manderly ship back to the North before anything got too dangerous in the capital.
"I wonder how I will spend your money," Littlefinger called out but Ned just smiled, and laughed loudly once Jamie was knocked off his horse.
Sansa stood, cheering politely for the hound, but the comment he expected her to make was not made. He wondered why, briefly, but the thought passed just as quickly. This version of his daughter had not spent as much time around Joffrey, because of Theon, and so she had not spent enough time around the hound to believe in him enough to make the statements she had before.
"A pity that the imp is not here with us," Lord Renly said. "We would have won twice as much."
"Really," Ned laughed. It was funny, the comments never noticed before, he heard them now, much louder and much clearer. "Why is that?"
"He would never bet against Jamie," Renly responded as it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Ned smiled at Renly, "That's good to know."
That afternoon Theon won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and a boy named Anguy from the Dornish Marches. Anguy was good, but Theon was great. Still, Ned sent Alyn to seek Anguy out and offer him a position with his guard. This time the boy, ten thousand gold dragons shorter, was happy to accept and eager to prove himself.
The melee was the same.
That night at the feast, he had expected for Theon to waste his riches on woman and wine, but the boy, to his surprise, did neither. Instead, he stayed by Sansa and Arya all night, dancing and laughing and having a good time.
He gathered the northmen around and called for quiet. "A toast," he said, raising his glass high. "To Theon! Though not my son by blood but my son by choice, you performed valiantly today and the North is glad to have you call it home."
Ned was happy for him, but the ghost of his betrayal still ran through his mind but in the end, he knew what kind of man Theon would become. For now, he would have to be kept close.
"To Theon!" Sansa shouted, laughing and smiling happily with her sister next to her.
Theon smiled happily at them all, "Thank you, Lord Stark."
Ned pulled him aside and whispered so that only Theon could hear, "when the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies..."
"but the pack survives," Theon interrupted, looking up at him hopefully.
"Aye," Ned responded with a nod, "and you're apart of that pack. I do hope you understand that. I'm as proud of you as I am of any of my other children. When we return home, I'll give you a keep of your own and find you a wife."
Theon was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again "and when my father dies?"
It was a question. A very valid and important question. "Then I will personally make sure you take his place as Lord of the Iron Islands. With Robb on the seat of Winter, and you on the seat of the Sea, this realm will know nothing but prosperity for a long time."
"I think I would like that Lord Stark," Theon said with a smile.
Much later, after he had taken the girls back through the city and seen them both safe in bed, he ascended to his own chambers. He went to the window and opened it to lett the cool night air rush in and cool his room. Gods he missed the North.
Across the Great Yard, he noticed the same things as he did before, yet still it was interesting to watch, to see what he could find that was new. It didn't take him too long before he saw a hooded girl darting through the fields with a bow on her back, and Theon close behind. Only the masterfully groomed grey fur of a direwolf gave away the identity of the girl.
He shook his head a smiled. They were headed for the godswood. It looked like his daughter wanted to practice her bow again, not that he could blame her. She didn't have much time for it here in the capital, and was to much like her mother to practice it openly.
"Alyn," Ned called and waited for the man to enter the room. "It looks like Sansa has decided to sneak out and practice her bow in the godswood. Theon and Lady are with her so I worry not about her safety. Still, send ten men down there after them but tell them to be discrete."
"Is that all my lord?" Alyn asked and Ned shook his head. He left quickly and Ned was left alone with just his thoughts. Everything had been going according to plan. Lord Stannis had not returned to King's Landing for the tourney. Lysa Arryn held her silence behind the high walls of the Eyrie. The squire was alive this time, but he knew very little about what happened to Jon.
Before he was led to believe that the boy had to know something, which is why someone had him killed, but the death of the knight from the stormlands just let him know what he always knew. Gregor was a rabid dog that needed to be put down. He was confident that Ser Arthur would be able to take him alive. Ser Gregor would be Jon's gift to Dorne.
Everything that he had prepared for was almost here. All he had to do was wait.
Harwin knocked on his door softly, and Ned smiled. Finally.
"A man to see you, my lord," Harwin called. "He will not give his name."
"Send him in," Ned said and when the two entered he spoke again, "you can leave us Harwin."
After his personal guard had left, he turned back to the window, facing away from the man. "Lord Varys, you can take off your disguise now."
"Lord Stark," Varys responded, careful not to let the shock linger long in his voice. Ned held back laughter.
"Your disguises are getting sloppy Lord Varys," Ned said after he turned back to him and poured him wine.
"How did you know?" Varys asked his voice shaking slightly.
" A little bird told me you were on the way," Ned responded with a smile. He wanted Varys to be nervous.
Varys ignored him with a false smile of his own. "I do not mean to keep you long my lord. There are things you must know. You are the King's Hand, and the king.."
"Is a fool," Ned interrupted him this time not being able to stop himself from smirking. "Trust me Varys, I know. Robert is a fool, but he is my best friend and my king. Tell me something I don't know."
Varys paused before speaking again. "I assume you know he is doomed. Unless you save him."
"Yes," Ned responded. "The Queen tried to kill him today didn't she? A stupid plan on her part. Robert may be out of shape, but he would have been hard to kill in that melee. Injure yes, maim maybe, but kill? No. That would not have happened. Yet still, for the good of the realm, I talked him out of it. Your welcome."
"So you knew," Varys asked him, again trying his best to keep his shock from his voice.
"Don't be so surprised Lord Varys," Ned responded. "What do you think I am? A fool? No, Cersei has gone desperate. She is hiding something but that does not matter. What does is that you knew of the plot and decided not to tell me."
"I must confess, Lord Eddard, I was curious to see what you would do. Why not come to me? You ask, and I must answer. I did not trust you, my lord."
"Yes, you had to see where my loyalties are tied to," Ned responded. "I assume that you now know?"
"For a certainty," he smiled. I begin to comprehend why the queen fears you so much. Oh, yes I do."
Ned laughed. "You lie and pivot very well. I expect nothing less from a Master of Whispers that served under Aerys but somehow convinced Robert to keep his head."
Varys went to speak again, but Ned interrupted him "You say you trust me, yet you still have not told me how Jon Arryn died. You are the Master of Whispers and you expect me to believe that you do not know? You expect me to believe that you don't know who did it?"
"You did not ask," Varys responded.
"I didn't have to," Ned said back. "The years of Lys killed my friend Jon Arryn. I begged that man to use a taster in my letters, and once you knew what was coming, I guarantee you did the same. He didn't listen, and now he is dead. That is not important. Who gave him the poison?"
"Some dear sweet friend who often shared meat and meat with him no doubt. Oh, but which one? There were many such. Lord Arryn was a kindly, trusting man." He sighed. "There was one boy. All he was, he owed Jon Arryn, but when the widow fled to the Eyrie with her household, he stayed in King's Landing and prospered."
It was truly a wonder, being alive twice. In his past life, when he didn't understand men like Varys spoke in riddles and half truths, he didn't catch the meaning of his words. This time it was as clear as day to him. He was blaming Littlefinger.
"I spoke to Ser Hugh," Ned responded calmly, he would play this game. For now. "He is innocent. The boy is as naive as you thought me to be."
"You are certain," Varys asked and Ned smiled. Varys was persistent, and Ned knew he would never get the man to admit whom he was truly talking about, Lord Baelish. He ignored them, and did a pivot of his own.
"Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for fourteen years. What was he doing that they had to kill him?"
"Asking questions," Varys said and slipped out the door. Ned wanted to stop him, to say more but it was best to stop now, he didn't want anything to slip.
AN: Here is the next installment. I threw in a Shakespeare quote and some Drake lyrics in here. While the Shakespeare quote should be obvious, kudos to those of you who find the lyrics.
I always interpreted the that quote by Varys about they boy in the Vale who owed everything to Lord Arryn to be about Littlefinger, but Ned, with the death of Ser Hugh, and whose POV the quote is in, took it to be about Ser Hugh. I just thought that Varys was using Ser Hugh as an example.
As always appreciate your reviews, your favorites, all of that. Still looking for a beta if anyone is interested. Not sure who the next chapter will be. I have a few ideas. I know I said before it would be Jon, and it still might be, but I am not quite sure yet.
Anyway,
Until Next time!