Chapter 15

Ned

The day dawned, brisk and clear. Ned woke somewhat uncomfortably, the ache in his side insistent. Stretching slowly, he dressed briskly. He was in the Red Keep, a place he had not seen since his strange meeting with Lord Varys years ago. The man had been intrigued by Jaehaerys, and had offered help, even to bring him somewhere to be raised well, but Ned trusted him not and had declined. The only reason he was here was to attend the funeral of his late friend, Robert Baratheon. The man had been killed by a stray arrow during the Battle of Pyke while he had stormed a breach in the walls. Stannis Baratheon had taken up the banner shortly after, finishing the battle and taking Balon Greyjoy's crown. As punishment for treason, the rigid man had ordered all the men who had taken up arms killed as well as the Greyjoy men. The children were sent out as wards, and the noncombatants of Pyke were to be disseminated amongst the rest of the isles. Stannis had declared that the isle was never to be settled again. Lord Harlaw was to be made Lord of the Iron Isles, though Stannis had left behind a strong enough garrison to ensure little trouble.

Instead, it seemed, the trouble was brewing in the capital. Queen Cersei had quickly taken up the title of Regent as mother to the young Prince Joffrey, whose coronation was not yet settled. Stannis Baratheon, as brother to the King, and Jon Arryn, as hand of the King, had added themselves to the council of Regents as well. Ned could feel the tension brewing, mostly between the Lannister woman and the two men. He had dismissed most of his levies, sending them home with Karstark and Bolton, though he had brought a decent amount of guards with himself as well. The situation was tense, and Ned felt safer with the swords at his back.

Finishing his dressing, Ned sighed. This would not have happened had Robert survived - Ned was sure he would be home once more by now, with things at peace again. Ned sighed, exiting his rooms. Jory Cassel quickly flanked him, followed by Tomard as well. Quickly making his way through Maegor's Holdfast, he decided to visit the Tower of the Hand before the ceremony, to visit with Jon and see how he was faring. Making his way up to the tower, he passed several red cloaked Lannister guards, all of whom appeared to be keeping a closer eye on the Tower of the Hand above all. Ned continued walking, and the blend of guards changed from largely redcloaks to the blue cloaked guards Jon Arryn had with him. Entering the Tower after nodding to the guard at the door, Ned made his way up the staircase hesitantly. He passed a room where a babe was being coddled by his mother, before entering one of the top rooms. Jon Arryn was at his desk, writing a letter. Looking up to his visitor, his eyebrows raised in surprise. The man Ned saw as a father was getting older, with his blonde hair greatly tinged by gray hairs and several wrinkles that had not been there before. "Ned… it is good to see you again. How fares your family?" As he said it he reached his hand out to shake Neds, a comforting gesture.

"Well enough, Jon. I have not seen them in a few moons, sadly. I heard about your son - congratulations, of course." Ned bowed his head to punctuate his remark.

"Yes, thank you Ned. Lysa does dote on the boy… understandable, of course. It is a shame the lad will never meet Robert… perhaps a strong uncle like him would have done him well. No matter." Jon waved his hand. "What brings you to my tower? I imagine it has to do with the funeral, of course."

Ned nodded his head at that. "Aye… how are you, Jon?"

Jon shook his head as if clearing snow from his hair, a strange vigor to the action. "Not well, I am afraid. I believe the realm shall not know peace any time soon… not only are the Tyrells chafing with the King gone, but I have heard word of the Dornish garrisoning many more men at the Boneway. That is not the least of it, however." The older man sighed, looking old before his time. "I am afraid… it's quite possible Robert left no true issue of his body."

Ned startled at that. "But the man had three children, did he not?"

Jon shook his head yet again. "I have been reading, Ned. My suspicions started to grow during the course of the war. Every Baratheon child has been black of hair and blue of eye. Those children are green eyed and blonde haired. I fear the Queen has been commiting adultery… Stannis has been helping with the investigation of late, now that he is back. It is entirely possible we shall see another war soon, Eddard." Jon had a grave look on his face.

Ned sat down heavily, rubbing his whiskers at the thought. "Truly?"

Jon nodded. "Truly. I am praying to the Seven that I am wrong, that things shall remain peaceful, but…" Jon looked pale. Taking a tentative sip from his glass of wine, the old man continued. "I ask that you remain here after the funeral… hopefully it will not be a necessary measure, but we need swords right now. Cersei will have no doubt learned by now that you are visiting me. Expect her to send men to tail you wherever you go… she has no shortage of paranoia."

Ned swallowed heavily at the thought. "Of course, Jon. But… if you attempt to sieze power from her, Tywin Lannister will not accept the slight. He'll raise his banners. If what you say is true, the Tyrells will not rise for us… may even fight against us. The Iron Isles have no love for us, and Dorne… Dorne will not fight for us, but perhaps they will fight the Lannisters. The North is already seeing signs of winter… it will be difficult to raise any levies, Jon. The Riverlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands… will it be enough?"

Jon's face turned even more serious, an impressive feat. "It will have to be. The very foundations of this monarchy are at stake… Renly will have to be convinced, and that boy has always had some dream of being King. We need you, Eddard, the realm needs you."

Ned nodded slowly. His thoughts turned to his children, to the likelihood that he would not see them for even more time. Would he miss tiny Brandon's first steps? How much would he miss? And yet, he could not deny that he owed Robert Baratheon. Sighing, Ned said quietly, "I shall, Jon. You can count on my swords, my fealty, my friendship."

Jon the Griffin

Jon watched as Viserys and Gerold Hightower clashed. The bout had lasted several minutes, with Viserys and Gerold trading blows. The younger man had agility, with a certain litheness that helped him dodge blows, but Gerold had the skill and experience bestowed by his years guarding the King. Ultimately, Viserys was defeated when Gerold had twisted his sword at the last moment, pushing an attack away and allowing him to thrust, tapping Viserys harshly on the chest. Viserys breathed heavily, looking slightly angry, before gaining control of his emotions. "Seven hells, I still can't beat you, you old bull." The young prince laughed, light and clear. "Dany," He called up to his sister, who was sitting on a veranda near the gardens, trying and failing to pretend to sew. "Did you see that? Gods, Gerold is good." Dany nodded, looking down at him.

"Why can't I practice with the sword?" Asked young Daenerys, for what seemed the thousandth time.

Rhaella shook her head, but smiled. "You know what I said, Daenerys. Not until your ninth nameday. Come, now, show me your stitches." The young lady offered them up, looking a little miserable at how shoddy her work was. "Yes… you're getting better. These lines are almost symmetrical, dear." Rhaella patted her cheek. "Soon enough, you'll be able to sew like an artisan." Dany flushed at the compliment. Jon looked around the gardens, enjoying the space, small though it was. Even for royalty, space was at a premium in Braavos. Suddenly, a commotion was heard at the gates. "Who could that be?" Asked the Dowager Queen.

Her question was answered - several guards came forth, escorting one of the local servants. "Your graces," said the young man. "I do not mean to disturb, but I was down at the docks, buying some fish, because the best fish is down there, and, well, when I heard news from one of the Westerosi cogs, I returned." Rhaella cocked her head, looking at the man curiously.

"What news could possibly be so interesting?" She asked, putting down her own needlework.

"I have learned that the Usurper, Robert Baratheon, was killed during the Ironborn Rebellion. I sought to bring word as swift as I could." Jon felt a wave of various emotions. Elation that the bastard had died, sorrow at the thought of his Prince having died because of the man, but mostly anger. How was he supposed to exact vengeance on a dead man? Jon shook his head at the thought.

"While death is always a tragedy, and this will likely bring suffering to our kingdoms, this news does gladden my heart." She looked to her children. "Perhaps we shall be able to return home. We will have to wait and see." Then she looked to her servant and the guards. "I thank you for this news, young man. See that he gets a good meal for his efforts, sers." She bowed her head graciously to the men.

Viserys whooped. "The bastard is dead! Mother, this is our chance. We can finally return and take back our kingdoms!"

"Do not be so hasty, son. The realm may yet strengthen, and I would not want your hopes to rise only to be dashed against the rocks. We shall have to wait and see how the situation develops." The queen looked stern, but Jon noticed that she seemed lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her back. Viserys frowned, but nodded, accepting his mother's judgement.

"Come, Gerold, I think I have gained the energy for another bout. Perhaps this time I shall beat you, Ser." The young prince raised his practice sword.

A/n Shorter chapter here, but I wanted to develop the political situation further.