Ned

"You are making me nauseous," Catelyn complained.

"What?" Ned asked, broken from his thoughts. He looked over at his lady wife, herself having glanced up from the book she was reading. It was a collection that her father had hidden away and with good reason, for it contained the histories and tales of the Blackfyres, from their own mouths. Nothing one would have wanted a Targaryen to see and Robert's hatred of anything dragon-shaped meant that it stayed tucked away. She'd only found it while trying to find things to keep her occupied while she waited for Hoster Tully to pass on. Cat had decided a month or so ago, after a conversation with her brother, that she wanted to deal with her ingrained mistrust of bastards. It hadn't just been Jon, she'd told Ned, but other bastards as well. She had spoken of one of Robert's bastards in the Vale, a girl who had only served to help her, and how Catelyn had disliked her only because she was a bastard. That she'd even SEEN how foolish she was and yet couldn't help it. She wanted to rid herself of such feelings and when the book had been discovered about the most imfamous of bastards, a book that told their tales and let the world see not all of them had been greedy and cruel, she had decided she needed to read it so she might understand them better. To do away with the myths of the Blackfyres.

"You are making my stomach sick the way you keep moving about the room," she complained, a hint of teasing coloring her words and making it clear she wasn't truly mad at him. "You keep flittering about like a hummingbird."

"Flittering?" Ned asked, raising an eyebrow. "I do not 'flitter'."

"You flitter." Catelyn, who was resting on a long padded seat, motioned for him to join her. "Tell me what is wrong."

Ned stared at her for a moment before sighing and cutting through the distance between them. They were in her father's solar in Riverrun, which had become his temporary ruling seat of late. He didn't like using it, as it felt wrong to take over a dying man's home, but there was simply no other place that worked well enough for their purposes. The War hadn't touched the North so it wouldn't do to return to Winterfell and if he went to any other castle it would cause his new bannermen to bicker and argue that he was favoring one of the other.

'And as much as I hate to admit it I need to be here to ensure that Edmure doesn't bring Cat's house tumbling down,' he thought to himself. Edmure was nearly twice Robb's age and yet Ned's eldest had proven himself far more suited to rule than Edmure. He was all at once too soft hearted and too prone to anger, the oddest of combinations. He wanted the love of the Small Folk to the point of insanity and to his enemies he wished to strike them down without a care of the loss that might come. He held irrational grudges, such as that for singers, because of the smallest slights. Yet he was also quick to look over the glaring faults of his friends. He had no sense of how to rule and honestly Ned didn't think the man wanted to. At least rule the way Ned would want the man to. Edmure was more concerned with drinking with his friends or lying with whores than overseeing Riverrun. When they'd arrived they'd found Edmure behaving as he always had, going off with his friends to fish or to have a fun time at a winesink, leaving the task to the maester. If Ned had been dying Robb would have taken over Winterfell, seen to it that it ran smoothly, so that he might spend his last few days knowing that all was handled. Edmure… did none of these things.

It was something he wasn't ready to discuss but more and more Ned was wondering if there wouldn't be some way to quietly place Cat's uncle, the Blackfish, as the Lord of Riverrun. Oh, it wouldn't go over well at all with any involved… Edmure would hate it and see it as the insult it was and Catelyn would be grieved and Ser Brenden would never want the position to begin with… but it would make things all the better. A dark part of Ned, the one some men thought didn't exist until they saw him with a sword in his hand and Lannisters in front of him, had dreamed of an… accident… befalling Edmure. How simple it would be to get his Master of Whispers Nikolas Fury to pay off a man to make Edmure disappear. Give him what appeared to be a noble death, perhaps an ambush…

Ned forced those thoughts from his head. Once one went down that path there was no going back. Memories of how Robert had forever stained himself doing just that filled his mind. He knew already he walked a dangerous line with his vendetta against the Lannisters. The only way he'd kept himself from becoming a bloody butcher was to set down the names of all the Lannisters he killed in a book he kept locked away, along with how they'd died. His 'War Journal' as he mentally called it. So that he never forgot what he did, never waved away his actions and made them pretty as the singers would. His War Journal would remind him of all he had become.

The truth of the matter was that Ned hadn't been given much to do when it came to actual fighting in recent weeks, going on recent months. And it wasn't just because he was king and, much as he had advised Robert in what had felt like years ago, couldn't put himself at unneeded risk. No, it was because the last time he'd been truly allowed to wet his blade...

The village was called simply Brook, because it was near an offshoot of the Red Fork that was little more than a brook. At one time it had been a pleasant place, Ned could tell that just riding into it, but now it was long abandoned, a shell that had been scooped clean. It wasn't the war that had caused the inhabitants to flee, as he could tell by the rusting on a piece of farm equipment that the villagers had abandoned Brook ages ago, perhaps even before the Rebellion. Ned only knew its name because of a map in Hoster's solar, one that had once been kept up to date but clearly the Lord Paramount of the Trident had failed in recent years to make additions and subtractions. He'd learned that when he'd tried give a parcel of land to knight in the service of House Vance only to discover that the land they all thought was abandoned already belonged to the knight's father. That was why they were making this ride, to inspect the holdings of Ned's kingdom and determine how accurate his maps were.

His kingdom. It still felt so strange to him. A foreign thought that no Stark had ever considered since they had knelt to the Conqueror. It was even more startling to Ned for he had never been destined to be little more than a minor lord, serving Brandon and perhaps forging a cadet branch of the Stark family one day. Yet because of the fickle nature of fate he found himself with a crown on his head and sworn knights riding with him through a land he'd never expected to rule.

"Nothing here, your grace," Ser Torence Wells stated, looking about the land. "Nothing 'cept grass and dirt piles."

Ned though merely placed his hand at his side, caught the eye of Ser Grenn, a knight of White Harbor, and then looked down at his hand before pointing to his right. He himself didn't glance at the freshly dug hole, as he didn't want to alert the watchers, but as the winds shifted and the foul scent of fresh shit and piss filled his nostrils he knew his guess had been right and that he'd spotted a freshly dug privy. He quietly dismounted and rolled his shoulders, reaching for a wine skin that was filled only with fresh water, shooting a quick blast into his mouth. "Then this is a best place as any to stretch my legs. Certain parts of me will be relieved for the break." The men laughed at that, complaining about how their own balls felt after the ride, but Ned was pleased to see they were all on alert. He began to look about the village, trying to determine where one might hide. There was the remains of what might have been a small barn or a large cabin but half a wall had caved in and there had been a cold chill the night before and a good mist; that wouldn't have offered the best sleep. A few others buildings were in such shape as well but one about 20 feet from the privy he'd spotted looked decent enough-

A shadow shifted in the window and Ned instantly grabbed the shield he kept hooked on his saddle and brought it up. There was a curse and he felt the ironwood rattle as an arrow struck into it. Ser Torence let out a cry and Ned looked over to see he'd taken an arrow in the leg, possibly right in the knee. The other men drew their weapons but Ned was already moving forward, using the shield to protect himself from the bowsman as he got to the door and battered it down with a solid kick. Bursting into the room he found himself staring at six men, all of them baring a familiar lion stitched upon their boiled armor and two of them with the blonde hair and green hair of the Lannisters.

'Promise me, father.'

Ned threw the shield at the bowman who had swung away from the window and notched another arrow; the wood struck him in the temple and he went down hard with blood gushing from his forehead. The others drew knives and hatchets, clearly thinking they had the advantage. They could see Ice on his back, the massive greatsword, and they knew that such a sword, while powerful on an open field, was a hindrance in an enclosed space. He'd have trouble drawing it and even if he did manage it the timbers that supported the roof wouldn't allow him to make a killing blow.

What they didn't realize, and what so many people forgot, was that Ned had never been meant to wield Ice. That would have been Brandon's sword. No, he would have had a mere castleforged steel sword, maybe one a bit more finely crafted than most but that was it. Thus he hadn't trained to wield Ice. He hadn't spent years in the training yard swinging around a long weighted wooden sword so he might become used to the heft of such a weapon. He hadn't even seen the sword until after the Rebellion, when he'd returned to Winterfell and finally claimed it from his father's solar.

The other thing people failed to realize was that he had been trained to fight by Jon Arryn like any Knight of the Vale. And while the warriors of those lands were known for their valor and their honor they were also warriors that understood how to fight in all conditions and terrains. One couldn't simply hope that pledges would win the day... a Knight of the Vale had to know how to fight in the tight castles of Vale and the forests of the Hill Tribes and upon the rocking boats that dotted their lands' shores.

Thus instead of reaching for Ice, which Ned had only worn that day because it was expected that the king would ride with his family's sword, he reached for the concealed sheathes that lay just under his cloak and pulled free a small throwing knife that he sent racing through the air and into the throat of another Lannister soldier. Not the Lannisters themselves, as he didn't want to end them that quick, but merely one of their men. The blade had barely left his hand before he undid the clasps of his cloak and threw the heavy fur at another soldier, the man crying out in surprise as everything was blocked from view. Ned drew the short sword that was at his hip while his other hand took hold of a dagger and he rushed forward, slashing at the final startled soldier while driving his dagger through his cloak and into the covered man's chest, pinning the cloak to him and turning it into a funeral shroud. The two Lannisters finally came to their senses and drew their own swords but by that point Ned had carved into the final soldier's side like one would a glazed ham, red blood gushing onto the floor and making it slick. He felt some spray onto his cheek but he didn't stop, instead grabbing the bowman that had just begun to rise and twisted him around to take a blow from his commander, Ned's fleshy shield screaming as he was pierced in the lung. He kicked the dying man into one of the Lannisters before he circled onto the older of the two, he hand darting out to grab a wine bottle they had clearly been enjoying moments before. That he smashed over the man's head but when the Lannister began to wobble Ned didn't let him fall but rather drove the jagged edges of the bottle into his face before twisting, turning the man's features into red ruin.

That left only the final Lannister who screamed with rage and came at him. Ned parried his blow before delivering one of his own that the man barely blocked; the wine had dulled their senses and made their movements stuttering. Ned didn't worry about that making it an unfair fight, choosing instead to drop his sword a touch and shift his weight to his right foot. The moment the Lannister swung his blade Ned was able to sweep away and the man went toppling, allowing Ned to complete his circle and draw his blade across the man's back, cutting through the boiled leather he wore and bite into flesh. It wasn't a klliing blow but enough to make the blonde shit scream and drop his blade.

Ned's sword ensured he'd never pick it up again, cleaving his hand from his wrist.

His foe barely had time to comprehend the pain before Ned was on him, using his swordarm to pin the man's chestto the wall of the cottage, pressing his cheek into the wood. "What is your name?" he demanded.

"What?"

"What is your name!" Ned snarled.

"Reginald," the man moaned. "Reginald Lannister."

"And what do the Lannisters say of me, Reginald Lannister?" The man shuddered but Ned wasn't moved, slamming his body into the Lannisters. "Answer me."

"They... they call you the Punisher... that you won't stop till every Lannister is d-dead."

"And do you know why?" Reginald moaned and Ned pressed harder against the back of his neck. "Do you know?"

"Y-yes. 'cause the king killed your daughter, Sansa-"

Ned spun Reginald around and drove his sword through the man's mouth and out the back of his neck.

"You don't get to say her name," Ned hissed. "You don't." It was only then, as his fury left him, that he realized he wasn't alone. He turned to find his knights staring at him and it wasn't with pride or loyalty like he was used to.

No. It was fear in their eyes.

"Ned," Catelyn stated as he sat down, "what has you so upset that you are practically bouncing about this room?"

He reached over and took her hand, holding it gently. With his other hand he reached up and rubbed his forehead, fingers touching the sensitive skin where his crown normally rested. He still wasn't used to it. "I hate this… inaction. This quiet waiting. War shouldn't be like this."

"Allow me to be the one to break it to you but war is exactly like this," she commented. "Did you think I held balls while I waited for you to return?"

"I know you didn't and I know that war means waiting for many. But not for me," Ned stated. "During the Rebellion the only time I wasn't active was when I was sailing for the North during my escape from the Vale. And even then I was filled with such grief that I didn't notice the passage of time. After that it was riding hard from one battle to the next, rushing to get to the next field, the next castle. Even when we broke camp there was something to do. The same with the Greyjoy Rebellion. I didn't spend my time sitting idly by wondering when the next blow would come." He shook his head in annoyance. "Part of me wants to just ride to the front and ask the first Lannister I see what the hell Tywin Lannister is waiting for."

"Well, forgive me if I don't share that sentiment," Catelyn teased. "Everyone understands that the fighting must begin to stall out. You saw the ravens."

"Winter is coming," Ned said.

"Winter is coming. And soon. The Lannisters understand this and so do you. We must dig in and prepare for it. No wars will be fought in 10 feet of snow. Isn't it better that both sides at least have some sense to halt the fighting so that we can prepare?"

"I know that, I do. But I also know that the Lannisters are cunning and have no honor and it worries me what they may be plotting. Tywin Lannister would be willing to sacrifice half his people if it meant he maintained power. And the boy… Joffrey has power and no wisdom. Every day they don't do something I wonder what trap they are preparing for us."

"Is that all you think about?" she asked.

Ned let out a sigh and once more rubbed his forehead. "No. Every day that we aren't fighting… this all becomes more real." He waved his hand to his good father's desk, where his crown lay. "That I am King. I never wanted that, ever. Even the Rebellion never made me consider it. Making Robert king… that was his idea, never one I held. I never expected to be anything more than Brandon's bannerman and now I am the first Stark King in generations. And I fear… I fear that I will fall into the same trap Robert did. That I am only suited to rule during War."

Cat though was having none of that. "You are wrong. You and Robert were never the same and you will not end up like him. Robert always had an appetite for everything that was larger than anything. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead or one you called friend but Ned… the crown didn't make Robert a poor leader. He would have been a poor Lord of the Stormlands no matter what, I think. Not as bad as he was as King, and certainly not as bad had he married Lyanna rather than that… no, I won't even use those words to describe Cersei Lannister as she would bring shame even to them… but he would have been a poor one all the same. But you, Ned… you have already ruled in times of peace. This is bigger, yes… but you will be able to manage. No… you will do more than that. You will flourish."

"If only I held your confidence," Ned muttered. "With Winterfell it was so much easier, as strange as it is to say considering how overwhelmed I felt when the war was over and I actually became the Lord of the North. But now I find the opposite is true. There seems little for me to do nowadays." He looked up and shook his head. "I have so much help now that I feel like I am being pushed into a corner. Robb commands Winterfell and thus the North and allows me to focus on what we are doing here. Robett Glover is doing well as my Hand… too well. I come up with an idea and he takes it and goes off and gets it done or tells me why it can't in a way I can't argue with." He let out a chuckle. "Aye, if Robert had made him Hand over me perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess. Wyman Manderly is replenishing the wealth of the North and the Riverlands to allow us to continue rebuilding the villages that have been caught in this feud. Did I tell you his latest idea?"

"No, you have not," Catelyn stated.

"He is looking into selling ice. Ice! To the Summer Isles and the warmer parts of Essos. One of his sons came up with a way to transport it, using sawdust and special ship hulls, and they think they can transport it across the sea without it all melting away. The bane of our existence in the North and Wyman is going to turn it into our greatest asset." Ned shook his head, still amazed at the notion and that no one had ever thought of it before. "As for the war itself Roose has that in hand." What he didn't say, for who knew who was listening (something he'd learned from King's Landing at the very least) was that his Master of Whispers, Nikolas Fury, was keeping an eye on Roose to ensure that the man didn't try and double cross Ned and make a deal with the Lannisters. So far it was in his best interest to stay loyal to Ned, especially with his wife Gretin carrying their first child and all of Roose' potential heirs in the ground, but that didn't mean that the man might not change his mind. "It was just like this with Robert. Jon did too much for him, let him get away with not actually ruling the realm, and we all saw how that turned out. I know," he said, holding up a hand before she could speak, "that me seeing that means I won't so easily fall into the trap. I know. The waiting makes me think these things and like worms in my head they eat away at my thoughts."

"Well, as one who spent the last two wars waiting you'll find little sympathy from me," she jested.

Ned thought on that. She had spent the last two wars in a keep, first Riverrun and then Winterfell. Wondering what would happen, if he would return home. And then when he did he had come with another boy that they would have to raise.

And that thought made him think of her and Jon… and great regret filled his heart for what he had done to them both. The lie he had told, given because of his promise, that had hurt both Jon and her all the same. Of how that lie still hung between them all.

"Catelyn," he said, turning to her. "There is something I need to tell you. Something-"

Before he could finish though a horn sounded and he rose, moving towards the window even as the Maester of Riverrun entered the solar. "Your grace, two figures approach the gate on foot with no banners. One of them though is Theon Greyjoy."

Ned looked at Catelyn, his wife swallowing at that. Theon and Lord Jonos Bracken should have returned a fortnight ago. And for Theon to be marching alone, with none of the other riders nor apparently flying the banner of House Bracken… it spoke of ill news. Ned grabbed his crown and placed it upon his head even as he made for the door, Catelyn forced to run to keep up with his long strides.

When they arrived in the main courtyard of Riverrun they found a crowd gawking at the new arrivals and Ned didn't blame them. There, standing before them, was the most attention-grabbing woman Ned had ever seen. She towered over even him, as tall as Robert had been, and she wore a mix of armor and clothing over her frame. And what a frame it was… she was the most powerfully built woman Ned had ever laid eyes on. Off to one side he saw Maege Mormont looking at the new arrival and he wondered just how envious the Lady of Bear Island was at someone who made her look small. Long legs like tree trunks, a toned torso without a hint of fat, arms that looked strong enough to rip a man apart… it was as if the Old Gods had decided to create a woman more powerful than any man that existed.

Oh, and her skin was a dark emerald green.

There had been rumblings of a giantess with green skin but Ned had written those off as fantasies. But now he wondered just how many other legends would turn out to be real as he stared at the massive woman before him. What next, blue women?

Easily going unnoticed thanks to his companion was Theon. His hair was longer than when he had left and he'd grown a short beard since Ned had last seen him. His clothing was travel-stained and he wore the sword of House Bracken on his hip. It was his eyes though… they were far older than the time that had passed since Ned had last looked upon him. He'd left with the mirth of a boy… he'd returned with the gaze of a warrior and a man that had known tragedy and triumph. There was a story there and Ned meant to find it out.

Approaching his ward Theon dropped to one knee, as did his companion though her doing so still left her only needing to look up slightly in order to gaze upon them. "Your grace," Theon said and Ned waved him to rise before clapping him on the shoulder.

"It is good to see you again Theon though I feel there is a tale to your arrival."

"There is. A dark one full of betrayal." He paused and gestured to the emerald woman. "Your grace, may I present Lady Brienne of Tarth."

"Your grace," Brienne said with a dip of her head.

"The Evenstar's daughter?" Catelyn exclaimed. "But… they said you were-"

"Sickly? Dying?" Brienne smiled and raised her arm, flexing her muscles. "Things change, your grace." Her smile dropped though and she looked to Theon. "But that story must wait. What Theon brings to you is far more important."

"We'll go to Lord Holster's solar," Ned said.

"Are any of the Brackens here, your grace? And the Blackwoods?"

"They are both," Ned stated. "They need to come too?"

"And any whose council you value," Theon said and Ned was struck by the maturity of his ward. Theon had been so used to smirks and jests… but now he was as grim and serious as any man of the North.

"That serious?"

Theon nodded. "Your grace… your leverage against the Iron Islands is gone. I am no longer Theon Greyjoy. This journey saw to that. I am only Theon of Winterfell and you will understand why when the entire tale is told."

An hour later Ned was once more in Hoster Tully's solar, this time seated behind the desk and longing for a good Northern ale. The tale that Theon and Brienne had told them had left him startled at the duplicity supposedly good men could have. He wasn't the only one affected. Catelyn had grown pale at the tale of Thor and Ned had a feeling that she would be seeking out the sept when they were done with the meeting. He didn't blame her, for if one had told him that the Old Gods now wandered about Winterfell he would seek the comfort of the godswood. Maege had been fighting back curses when she heard that Renly had allied himself with the Ironborn while the Blackfish had shown less restraint, calling Renly an utter fool for throwing away the Tyrells all in the name of some mad scheme to bring the North to his side. Ser Josef Bracken, Jonos' brother and the new Lord of Stone Hedge, had slammed the table with his fist when he heard of his brother's death, cursing the Iron Born and Renly in equal measure for their cowardly acts. His anger had only been reduced when Theon had presented Jonos' sword to him and also revealed that the wooden crate Brienne had brought with her contained Jonos' bones so he might get a proper burial. Nikolos has stood with a face made of stone, saying not a word but taking in all that was said, the dark skinned man watching them all with his one good eye.

Tytos Blackwood looked at the two arrivals once they had finished their tale and asked, "So Tylos fought well?"

"He did, my lord," Brienne stated. "Had it not been for him and his party the Lannister raiders would have captured us unaware. He and his men died so we might complete our journey."

"He knew what we carried," Theon said. "And he said he only wished that if it were you that House Bracken would have done the same."

Tytos nodded at that. "It does me good to hear that… it does me good."

The others nodded as well but Ned shared a look with Catelyn and her eyes told the tale: Theon and Brienne were lying. With the latter there was no proof but with the former Ned and Cat had dealt with him plenty of times during his youth at Winterfell and knew when he was weaving a tale to try and get out of trouble. Little twitches and the way he chose to spoke… it was no different than when Theon had convinced Robb to come drinking with him down in Winter Town or when he'd helped Arya escape her lessons so she might go running about the fields outside of Winterfell's walls. Ned didn't know what the truth was but he wagered that Tylos Rivers hadn't been as noble as Theon painted him to be. In the past Ned might have found that distasteful, seeing it as giving honor to a man who deserved none. But now he understood the need to keep the peace and was proud that Theon had chosen to lie and pile glory onto one who had most likely caused him pain in the name of stopping future battles.

"-cousin must love you greatly to do that for you," Maege was saying, pulling Ned from his thoughts.

Brienne smiled. "And I love him for what he did. He went farther than any other man has gone for his kin and I am eternally grateful. I only hope that one day I am able to tell him so."

"Why has he not returned to Westeros, my lady?" Catelyn asked. "While it is true he attacked that septon and your father's men his actions have clearly been proven right."

"It does not matter, your grace," Brienne stated. "The law is the law."

"The law?" Josef asked.

Brendan huffed. "Jaehaerys the First's decree that any of Westeros who enter Valyria must die. That law remains on the books… though it is rarely enforced. I believe the last to have it brought up pertaining them was Gerion Lannister and his foolish quest for Brightroar."

"And he is dead," Nikolos reminded them. "But Bruce of Tarth…"

"If he returned here he could face death, especially if that mad septon," Brienne spat the man's title with disgust, "were to force the issue. He attempted to with my own healing but with the return of my health also came the return of my father's courage and he cast him out."

"But could he even stop Bruce?" Ned asked. If it weren't for the fact that Brienne was sitting before him he'd never have believed such a change was possible. And from what she claimed Bruce of Tarth's transformation was far greater… the man that made the Mountain look like a babe!

"I am not a god, your grace, nor is Bruce. We are powerful, yes… but we can be hurt. We can be brought down. And doing so would harm many in the world and that is something neither of us would wish. No… for now it is better if Bruce remain hidden."

Catelyn nodded at that and smiled. "Still, when things are settled… we will see about bringing him home. The laws of the Iron Throne need not be our laws in the North."

"Thank you, your grace."

"Your tale of Renly is most worrisome," Ned said, bringing the conversation back to the most important of matters. He'd already commanded Riverrun's maester to send ravens to Winterfell. It was only the fact that Robb's reports continued to arrive that let him have a measure of relief but he still knew that the attack could come at any moment and Robb needed to prepare. "Theon, though you have just arrived I would ask you to serve me once more."

"You wish me to go to Winterfell," Theon stated.

"I do," Ned said. "You proved yourself loyal to us and Robb needs men loyal to him. I want you to go and help him now against the Ironborn. I will feel better knowing that the message was received."

"Gladly," Theon said, a touch of viciousness coloring his words. Ned worried on that but decided that it was better to have Theon hating the Ironborn than still desiring to be among them. He made a mental note that perhaps it might be good though to send Theon someplace else after the message was sent… he needed to make contact with the Iron Bank so perhaps a trip to Braavos?

He cleared his throat. "I also want this known, though it will require some thought, that if you truly desire to renounce your ties to the Iron Islands then we will find you a place in the North. A Keep of your own, a seat to forge a new house."

"I would, your grace," Theon said, the anger leaving him and replaced with gratitude.

"If you are to do that," Josef said, "then I would ask for a boon, your grace." When Ned motioned for Josef to continue the man turned to Theon. "You grew to love my brother, did you not Theon? I can hear it in your voice."

"He… he was good to me, Ser… Lord Bracken. He taught me much."

"You were the son he never had," Josef stated sadly. "So many thought a man like him must have a hundred trueborn sons at home but all he had was daughters. In you he saw a highborn lad that he could pass down his wisdom. 'Knowledge that is left with only the dead is a waste' he once told me. It was always his greatest fear. You gave him that comfort. You have renounced the name Greyjoy… I would ask you choose another. Your grace, should Theon wish it… I would have you name him a Bracken." Theon started at that and Ned was just as surprised. "My brother cared for you and I will do the same. I will name you kin to me. A northern Bracken, a cadet branch of my house, to carry on what my brother taught you."

Ned looked at his ward before nodding. "If Theon accepts…"

Theon swallowed at that, clearly shaken by the honor passed to him. Brienne reached over and patted his hand, whispering, "Say something" and Theon coughed before he spoke. "I… I would be honored." He paused, steeling himself. "And I would ask of you one thing."

"Name it."

"You are a knight, and it is in your power to knight another." Josef opened his mouth but Theon continued. "I ask you to knight Brienne of Tarth."

The room went silent.

Brienne stared at Theon in shock.

"She avenged your brother. She helped me get his bones to Riverrun. I would have never made it here without her. I'd have died to the Iron Born had she not chosen honor over an easy path. If I am to be honored… she must be as well."

Josef looked at Theon carefully. "That… has never been done before. Never has there been a woman knight in the Seven Kingdoms." Theon moved to protest but Josef continued on, a smirk forming on his lips. "But we aren't not the Seven Kingdoms, are we? We are the Kingdom of the North and the Riverlands." He stood and drew his sword. "Both of you. Kneel."

Brienne looked at Theon and Ned could see there were unshed tears in her eyes even as she moved to one knee, Theon joining her.

"Theon of Winterfell… I name you kin and family. From this day you will be of my house and will bring glory to us. And we will bring honor to you. From this day you, and all that come after you, will have our aid, and will aid us in our darkest hours." Ned nodded his consent, making it official, then Josef turned to Brienne and placed his sword upon her right shoulder. "In the name of the Warrior… I charge you to be brave."

Catelyn leaned forward, placing a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet, not wishing to ruin the moment as Josef placed his sword on Brienne's left shoulder.

"In the name of the Father… I charge you to be just."

The Blackfish nodded as Josef spoke, his head held high, a smile forming on his lips.

"In the name of the Mother… I charge you to defend the young and the innocent."

Ned heard Maege whisper, "It's about time."

"In the name of the Maid… I charge you to protect all w… all who need your service."

Theon reached out and took Brienne's hand, squeezing it.

"Arise… Theon of House Bracken. Arise Ser Brienne of Tarth… a Knight of the Northern Kingdom."

It was Ned's honor, the greatest since he had become king, to be the first to rise and applaud the two.

There would be days of waiting. Of sitting in his solar far away from the battle. But this day had taught him… such days were just as important when it came to changing lives.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: …okay, yeah, doesn't have the emotional hit of Jaime doing it but still…

So a thought… Robert hates all Targs. His grandmother was a Targ so the blood of the Dragon is in him. Does that mean that Robert's eating habits and how he abused his own body, as well as putting himself in situations like his marriage, are all ways of harming himself, the last Targaryen-blooded man in Westeros?

…and did I just create a fanfic idea where a psychiatrist ends up in Westeros and decides to solve everyone's problems?

Doctor Fraiser Crane because why not?: So Cersei, isn't it entirely possible that your issues with Robert are less to do with his drinking and whoring, which we have addressed (Robert shrinks down, embarrassed), and more that you feel your father never acknowledged all you did in running the house after your mother passed away?

Cersei (dabbing eyes with a tissue): I… yes! Why didn't daddy ever say thank you?!

Dr. Crane: And isn't your treatment of Tyrion NOT because you truly hated him… but a misplaced belief, after seeing how he looked at Jaime treating Tyrion with respect, that you risked falling further out of favor? Perhaps afraid that Tyrion would ge the love you never got?

Cersei (begins nodding and crying): Waaaaa!

So Ned's fight wasn't originally in my notes but when I got to this chapter I realized that while characters have refered to him as The Punisher we haven't seen him in action. As such the battle of Brook where we see a Ned Stark who is actually allowed to go full throat into a fight.

Also looks like Reginald never did make it back to his wife in Lannisport.

Credit where credit is due: And Then The Giant Awoke came up with selling ice and I am borrowing it.

Cat finds out that one of the Seven is around… but poor Ned, if only he knew how almost right he was about the Old Gods in Winterfell.