Some days later
Howland was recovering. They would be fit to leave Dorne soon, though Ned had taken to cursing himself daily for failing to notice the extent of his injury from Ser Gerald Hightower. When the Starfall guards had returned from the sanctuary in the middle the night, Howland's skin had been nearly too hot to touch, and he had almost fallen off his horse in the bailey yard.
The Rhoynish healer Yli had done what she could, but the crannogman had been stubborn and understandably mistrustful, and had not let her look at the wound until the pain became unbearable.
At the castle, the old woman had set to work at once with her array of distillations and fermented pastes, and Howland was soon out of danger. Still, Ned felt a sickening chill down his spine every time he thought of his fallen bannermen, and the possibility Howland had faced of joining them. They had been seven on that boat sailing up the Wyl. Ned could still remember Willam Dustin and Theo Wull laughing too loudly in the night. Now he and Howland were the only two left.
In the bailey yard, Ashara had only directed her servants to see to Howland's care, but Ned had seen that she did not once look at his friend.
She believes blame for her brother's death lies with Howland, and not with me, he realised, and Ned could not help the tinge of relief this knowledge brought him, though it was nearly engulfed by shame. He should have lied-was it not his duty to protect his bannerman, especially in the deeds he had done to save Ned's life?—but he had looked into her gemstone eyes that day in the courtyard, and the truth had tumbled out.
This woman still drove him out of all reason and duty. It was a blessing the castle was so large, and the servants sent his meals to his rooms. If he had to see her more often, he did not think he could stop himself from pulling her into him and not letting go again.
Ned did not know how Ashara kept herself from crumbling into grief and despair. Perhaps it was the same force that kept him determined to face every morning on his feet, no matter how very close he felt to collapsing during all hours of the day. In their conversations by her fountains, Ned had seen the cracks in the armour she had donned against the world—against him—and the staunch bravery on her paling face had twisted at him until his heart bled.
But what could he do? What could either of them do? Their lives and loss were laid out before them, like footsteps imprinted in stone.
Walking to the nursery to see Jon, Ned was just outside the open door when he heard Ashara's voice from within. He froze.
"…and the tops of their heads are very soft still. Do you feel the bone at the top of your head?"
A pause.
"Yes," came the sweet voice of a child.
"Newborn babes have a gap in the bones up there. That is why we must always keep the cap on him, and be very careful when we hold his head."
"There's a hole there? But…" The child was tapping on her own head. "But how does his brain stay in his head?"
Ashara laughed, and Ned had not realised how he had missed the buoyant sound until it echoed in the nursery. His throat was suddenly tight, and he ventured a small step into the room like a moth drawn to flame.
She was sitting in a wide chair angled away from the door. Next to her, a little girl with wheat-coloured hair sat on a tufted stool, too busy studying the babe in Ashara's arms to notice Ned standing in the doorway.
"The skin on his head, I suppose," Ashara was saying. "We shall have to ask the maester to explain in detail."
"Do you think he'll know? Maester Bors never teaches me about babies."
"The maesters know a great many things, love. In the other kingdoms, it's usually maesters who aid women giving birth, so they must know about babes and childbirth."
"In the Reach?"
"Yes."
"And the Stormlands?"
"Yes."
"And, and the West…Westerlands, and the Crownlands, and the Vale, and the North, and the Iron Islands, and…and the…" Ned could hear the frown in the little girl's voice, and he almost laughed aloud.
"Think fish, Lyrie. Where do fish live?"
"Oh! And the Riverlands! Their lord is the Trout."
"Very good, love," said Ashara, and Ned could hear her smiling. In her arms, Jon made a gurgling sound, and the girl who must be her sister Allyria bounded from her stool to stand over him.
Ned dared another step, and now he saw the clear outline of Ashara's face as she peered at Jon cradled in her elbow.
His breath stopped. Afternoon light spilled through the windows, and in the golden glow her face was incandescent with soft joy. Her eyes were downcast, a small smile lifting her mouth, and she looked at Jon as if all the secrets of the gods lay in his face.
Ned tried not to even blink, so desperate was he to ink this image in his mind. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
"Did I used to be that little?" asked Allyria.
"I don't know, love. When I met you, you were already six moons old, and could sit up on your own."
"Is Jon going to grow a lot when he's six moons old?"
She did not answer right away, and New saw her sink her teeth into her lower lip.
"I don't know. Jon is not going to be at Starfall for that long, I'm afraid."
"He's leaving?"
"With his father, yes. When Lord Stark's bannerman is all better, they will be leaving."
"Is Wylla leaving with Jon? I like Wylla I don't want her to leave."
"I cannot be certain. It is up to Lord Stark, and he has not told me his intentions."
"But Wylla has to go with Jon."
"Why is that?"
"Rena says Wylla is Jon's mother. You always say mothers go with their babies if they can."
Ned heard a sharp intake of breath, and it was not until two pairs of purple eyes turned to pin him did he realise it was he who had gasped. His face heating at his eavesdropping, he gave them both a short bow .
"Apologies for interrupting, my lady. My lady." The second he addressed to Allyria, who promptly blushed. Ashara stood slowly to face him, still holding Jon, and the image was another Ned wished to sear into his mind.
She returned a shallow curtesy, and next to her Allyria was reminded to do the same.
"No apologies needed, my lord. I trust you are here to see your son."
Ned cleared his throat.
"Yes. Is he…have you been with him long?"
She smiled again, like rain in the desert, and shook her head.
"An hour, perhaps. Lyrie wanted to see the babe, so I sent Wylla to rest a while."
Ned nodded, still staring. Ashara returned the stare above Jon's head. Then she said,
"Would you hold him?"
"Oh. Um, yes."
She glided towards him and Ned held out his arms. He was still awkward and stiff holding Jon, fearing that he was too soft and small, and one wrong movement could damage the him.
Ashara stood very close to him, and as she leaned in to give him the babe, his senses were awash with the sparkle of her eyes and the velvety light on her cheek and the deep sweetness of her skin. He took in a shaking breath and focused his eyes on Jon. Grey eyes stared up at him, inquisitive as usual, and shiny as river pebbles, the same way Lyanna's had shone when some curiosity caught her fancy. For a moment he was lost in them, thinking perhaps he looked at his sister once more. Then Jon yawned, and Ashara laughed again.
"He has not fussed since we came in," she was saying, but Ned barely heard her. He felt wonderfully drunk and dizzy, and strode over to take Ashara's seat in before the cold hearth. In a swish of robes, she followed him, and for a long while, Ned stared at Jon as he made squeaking noises and waved his pink hands about his head, aware the entire time of Ashara's warm form at his shoulder, feeling her beaming at them both.
Finally, her voice came to him, but it sounded wrong. Thick and muffled.
"We'll leave you with your son, my lord."
Ned looked up, and saw with a pang that she wore her stony mask once more. You needn't be guarded before me, he wanted to tell her, though he had long lost that right. I would never hurt you. He had never wished anything to be true so desperately, even as he saw in her eyes the wounds she carried, and knew he had wielded the blade.
"You needn't. Jon…Jon seems to like you here."
She cast her eyes to the coloured tiles.
"Wylla should be back soon. And I'll need to return Allyria to her lessons. Come, Lyrie."
The little girl, who had been studying the tiny knitted shoes Wylla had found for Jon, looked up and pouted.
"Barley growing cycles are boring," she muttered as she dragged her feet to Ashara and took her outstretched hand.
Ashara gave her little shoulders a pat. "I know, love, but since you eat bread, it is only right you should know where it comes from."
She offered Ned another bob of a curtsey.
"My lord. Lyrie?"
The little girl curtseyed.
"G'bye, Lord Stark."
"Have a good lesson, my lady," Ned said, trying for a smile before nodding at Ashara. As they left the room, he heard the little girl's high voice echoing off the stone.
"But Ata, will you tell me two stories if Maester Bors says I remember all the stages in order?"
"If you can recite both winter and summer cycles, yes."
"Two stories with special voices and everything?"
"Yes, love."
"I'm going to practice: seedling, emergence, tillering…"
That night, Ned saw Ashara in his dreams, wrapped in furs before the fire at Winterfell. She held two babes in her arms, murmuring some indistinct story to her sons as she rocked in her chair, the firelight gleaming on her dark hair. When he entered, she looked up and smiled her divine smile at him.
"I've missed you, my love," she said. "Come, take one of them. My arms grow tired."
O~O~O~O~O
She found him the next morning in one of the gardens beneath the castle, this one patterned with flowering quince trees and bushes of red blossoms. The rich scent of the blooms hung in the air like mist, but Ned found that the bright sun and colours buoyed him from sinking into despair alone in his chambers.
"My lord?"
He stood as she approached.
"My lady." She wore blue robes today, the colour of the sky, and her hair tumbled loose and free about her shoulders. Again he noted how much fairer she appeared, almost pale, though the walk to the gardens had put a glowing pink in her cheeks.
"My brother has written from Sunspear," she said as she motioned him to sit back down next to her. In her hand was a letter.
"I hope his reply will mean you have no reason to refuse our ship back to Storm's End once your bannerman is well enough to travel."
Ned felt his stomach tighten with the frustrated guilt, now so familiar. He should not be accepting any more of Ashara's kindness, especially as the death of her brother still loomed over them like a dagger, but Ashara had been right when she had first broached the subject. He had no other better means of returning to Storm's End, not when all Robert's ships were with Stannis and headed toward Dragonstone.
"I am grateful, my lady."
"Hm." Her expression wry. "My brother does not offer out of kindness, my lord. He would have you speak to King Robert on our behalf."
"Oh? I would carry any message you desired."
"Tis more than a message," she said, looking down at her scroll. "He has asked that you emphasise my family's good will to the new king, and that you stress Arthur was only doing his sworn duty. That you explain we are not a threat to King Robert's reign."
Ned frowned.
"I don't believe Robert thinks you would be.."
"Neither do I, but no doubt you must tell him who you found guarding your sister, if nothing else…We are not asking you to tell falsehoods, my lord. You have lived at the castle and been through the town. I hope it is obvious my lord brother wants only to protect our knights and smallfolk, and for everyone to go about their lives."
He felt his frown deepen. Surely Robert would not act retribution on all the houses with members who had fought for the Targaryens. Aerys had been the rightful king, after all. It would be wholly unreasonable.
Still, he nodded.
"I will tell him what I've seen, my lady. Please write to Lord Dayne that he need not fear retribution for Ser Arthur's role in the war. As you say, he only did his sworn duty."
"I thank you. Our ship is ready to sail whenever you are. How fares your bannerman?"
"Your healer tells me that we best wait another day or two, to ensure everything is mended under the skin."
"And have you considered my offer? Old Yli tells me she would be more than happy to come with you with her son and granddaughter. She has never left Dorne, and would like to see the North."
"You are kind to offer, but surely you have need of her skills here." The woman used medicines Ned had never even heard of, but Howland was recovering very quickly for the way his wound had looked, and not once had Ned seen him show any signs of pain.
"She has had many students over the years," Ashara said. "That is why I sent her with Wylla and Borsyo. We can spare her, I assure you."
Still, Ned shook his head.
"No, my lady, I thank you, but there is no need. I would not impose on your hospitality any more than I already have, and I trust them, if you do. But Wylla…"
"Ah, so you do have some good sense after all."
Surprised, Ned forgot this next words for a moment. She had not teased him thus since those days at Harrenhal, and a wonderful warmth bounced in his chest.
He offered a small smile in response.
"You were right. Jon will not have anyone to care for him on the journey, and it is only reasonable that she come along, if she is willing," said Ned, remembering to avoid speaking too directly, for they were not in that murmuring courtyard.
"She is. And…and I take it you heard my sister in the nursery yesterday?"
"Yes, my lady."
"I hope you do not mind the talk. It was a most logical conclusion, and I have seen no reason to quell the rumors."
Ned nodded, though already the idea of his siring a bastard rankled. He would have to get used to it. He would have to get used to a great many things.
"Again, I am so very grateful to you, my lady." He watched her lips thin, and added quickly, "You and your family, I mean. I...I do not deserve…But I want what is best for Jon, and you are right about all of it."
She shook her head and closed her eyes, a faint crease appearing between her brows.
"I know you do. This is no favour. And such is the tangled web of misfortune around us, Ned Stark, that it has long been beyond a matter of deserving. I…I do these things now solely to ease the unbearable pain, for there is a gash on my heart. There is no reason to it."
She had not meant to say something so vulnerable, Ned could see, but he was grateful she did. At once both reached for the other's hands, and all he could hear was her trembling breath.
Unable to stop himself, or perhaps not wishing to allow himself a chance for reason, he lifted a hand to her face and ran his thumb along her cheek. She seemed to lean into him on instinct, and for a moment her eyes closed and her lips parted, almost in a smile.
On one of the nights they had snuck into the godswood at Harrenhal, they had sat on a fallen log like this, the air singing with the smells of a forest awakening to spring. In the moonlight, her eyes had shone silver, and he had been lost in them as he told her of his hopes for his future.
They had been modest: a keep on his father's lands, perhaps, and regular visits to Winterfell and Storm's End. He would aid his father and Brandon in keeping the king's peace in the North, and travel in their stead, and ensure the smallfolk who lived on his lands were fed and warm in the winters.
Robert had shaken his head at these plans and told Ned he was a bore, that surely he would want to have adventures before he got old. Ned had shrugged. He did not mind the idea of adventure, especially if they were with Robert, but he was not restless and intrepid like his friend.
He had taken a chance in telling Ashara. He had not known her more than three or four days then, and when he was done, he had stopped breathing, waiting for her to speak, afraid her face would fall in disappointment. Instead, she tilted her head and asked,
"If we are married, would you let me help in all these tasks? They do teach us girls more than needlepoint in Dorne, and I am a good rider."
From their first dance, he had realised she knew more about the world than he could fathom. On every subject from Braavosi politics to mine construction in the Westerlands she was knowledgable and had something to say, and when Ned listened to her animated conversation he felt as if she could show him the whole world with a turn of her hand.
And she was quick, so quick to tease him without malice, and Ned could not help matching her grins every time.
"Of course I would be grateful for your help. You are certainly smarter than I am."
She smiled at him then as if in wonder, as if he were some miracle and she could not believe her luck. Perhaps he had seen girls look at Brandon thus, and Robert, and he felt he was in a dream.
"Perhaps I am, Ned Stark, but it takes a smart man to admit as much. "
They had both laughed, and her eyes had danced.
"I would be happy to live anywhere so long as you are there, Ned," she had said, so softly he had not been sure if he heard right. But then she had closed her eyes and pressed a kiss to his hand, and Ned had somehow known he was all she needed.
In the garden at Starfall, she wore that same expression now, as if with his hand on her cheek he could soothe all the pain of her grief.
"I wish everything had been different since I last laid eyes on you, Ashara. Sometimes I wish it were so with such vehemence I think the gods cannot possibly deny me, but then I open my eyes and everything is still…as it is."
"Oh, Ned." She opened her eyes, and Ned felt their touch in his soul.
When he spoke his voice was rough.
"Do you…with what I have done, do you think… you could ever…"
"I don't know. Do…do you?"
"I can think of nothing save that I would very much like to kiss you." The words were out of his mouth before he had even understood them himself. She did not look away, only parted her lips.
He kissed her, softly, wondering distantly if he even remembered how. But once her soft mouth was on his all hesitation fled, and soon his hand was in her hair, the intoxicating scent of her filling his nostrils, the taste of her like wine of his tongue. She pressed into him, her hand coming to stroke his neck, and the little sigh she made in her throat lit something hot and sharp in his chest.
He did not know or care how long they were tangled thus, joy and heat humming through them, but eventually they came up for air. Their eyes met again, and for a moment, her eyes danced as they had in that godswood, as if the pain of the war had been but a nightmare. It was the same for him. He felt light and full, as if he had grown wings and soared above the clouds.
Ned opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, something shifted in her eyes—settled, or came back into place. At once she closed them and pulled away from his hands, and when she looked at him again, they had hardened to the jagged points of the amethyst they so resembled.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost bewildered by her own reaction. "I should not…you should not…that was unwise."
Her words were like Northern winter winds lashing his bare skin, and Ned flinched.
"Ashara…"
She let out a breath that sounded like a sob, and buried her face in her hands, her body shaking.
"Ashara? I...don't understand."
When she looked up at him, he could see the open wound she spoke of written in the devastation on her face.
"I don't think I can."
"What?"
"You ask if I could ever return to the way we were. I don't think I can."
Oh. And he fell back to the earth, his limbs leaden, his heart dropping into the abyss opening in him.
He did not know how long they sat there, cold and rigid, neither able or willing to move.
Finally, Ned spoke.
"It is I who should be sorry, my lady."
His voice was like the snapping of a dead tree.
She turned away, her hair tumbling to hide her face.
"Do you think the gods are laughing at us? Sometimes I think about the past two years and I too want to laugh and laugh."
"The gods are cruel. Yours and mine."
She gripped the stone bench, her knuckles as white as death.
"Your bannerman had no choice at the tower, but I cannot bring myself even to look at him, injured as he is. You had no choice in any of it, but I cannot help imagining, over and over, Arthur bleeding in the sand and you shoving a knife into his skull. And I feel I am drowning."
And there was nothing left to say.
Guys, baby Jon and baby Allyria were so fun to write. I hope I got some child behaviour right. I had to do a lot of Youtube research, and now I want a baby.