TWISTING TALES

Ned smiled wide like a child, when the cold breeze brushed his skin and all the memories of his boyhood swarmed to swell his heart with joy, as he rode alongside with some of his men, towards the castle gates of Winterfell. The happiness in coming back home at the right time, made him to force all of his companions also to ride faster every single day, ever since they started from the Vale. The only one to suffer through trauma during this journey was his chestnut mare, which was refusing to take another foot to carry him, now that they were close to home, merely feet away to meet his family.

He hastily climbed down and walked towards the stable, begging the horse to move as he pulled the reins. But sensing his excitement and urgency, the horse was taking revenge by adamantly not taking another step and he had no other choice than to give it a rest, even though his heart was jumping like a fish out of a pond, in search of air.

"Forgot the way to home, stranger?"

A perky little voice boomed from behind and he turned to find Lyanna in the saddle of her horse next to Benjen. His face brightened up to find them both and with a vast smile, he replied, "It has been a long time, my lady. Can you help in guiding this poor boy to Lord Stark?"

Lya laughed aloud and started revolving around his horse in a circle throwing mischievous glances towards Benjen. "I will help you, but what do I get in return?" She questioned.

"Anything that you desire, my lady." He bowed mockingly and Benjen started to throw a fit of laughter in response. They both had grown up, yet he could see no drastic change in their appearances to be unrecognizable. Lya looked more like his late lady mother, Lyarra Stark, yet she had grown only two inches taller than the last time he had seen her. She was still just a child of twelve years. At least Lya had grown distinguishably, compared to Benjen who hadn't changed much in both height and weight. Ned was explicitly happy to find everything the same way it was, like the last time he saw them, similar to the gray stones of Winterfell which could never be changed.

"Careful Ned! She will make you do regrettable and irreversible decisions, if you give her a promise. Last time, she made me put tonnes of ice cubes in Aly's bath, when I got caught in her trade." Benjen warned warmly.

Ned knitted his brows and glared at Lya which made her to stop revolving in her horse. The sharp glance was enough for his little sister to cower and chew her lips when she defiantly raised her hands in the air. "It was a waste of effort, Ned. Aly didn't get affected at all. Truly... You must trust me. She is the witch, that Nan tells in her stories." Lya sincerely replied and climbed down to give a warm hug and they both walked along with him, when Ned pulled the reins of his tired mare towards the stable.

Ned had a very hard time in understanding the relationship between both of his sisters. They both always barked at each other like mad dogs, yet at night, they would curl themselves in a bundle and go to sleep on the same bed. Even Brandon would scratch his head at the way the wolf maidens of Winterfell would throw fit against each other in the daylight but completely change their behaviour come night.

"I hoped to find our sister at the castle gates." Ned recounted sadly, wondering about Alarra's absence at the gates. She used to always wait to welcome him, no matter how much time it might take.

"It has been two years, since you last saw her, Ned. She has changed a lot." Lya responded with a pout mouth and a long face while steering her gaze to the side. "You can see for yourself. Look there."

Ned turned to his left and found a girl who was almost as tall as him, standing amongst three men of Winterfell. He couldn't believe it was his sister. The last time, he saw her — she was just a little thing, with messy brown hair that lacked any decoration. Now, Aly's waist long brown locks were dangling on her shoulder in a twisted beautiful pattern. But it was the crown of her head, that attracted his attention. She had braided that portion of her bright golden strands, which sat at the top of her head, looking like the most opulent crown that even the Queens might never possess. His father always used to admire and call it as the old God's blessing. As a child, she used to cut that part of hair, calling it to be ghastly and small strands of those golden hair would sprout out in a very eerie manner but now he could see she had embraced it and made it eye-catching.

He almost felt low while looking at Allara, even though he had no idea of why he was feeling that way. She had grown up almost to be a woman, a stunning one at that and he had never been there for her. Ben and Lya, hadn't changed drastically as Aly. Now, to find Aly grow up to be a completely different woman, a sadness crawled in his heart, and he wore his long Stark face, while looking down at the ground wondering if he was an outcast of the pack or worse, if his own sister had forgotten him.

"Ned..."

He looked up towards the direction of the sound and found her running towards him gleefully, with her long skirt gathered around her fist. A natural smile creeped into his lips, when she threw her arms around him and dashed on him painfully for a hug, making him stumble in his own stance.

"Good Gods... You have changed, a lot." She murmured near his ears and parted with a wide smile. Her mismatched eyes glowed in happiness. That bought him to chuckle aloud when he steadied her and took his time to observe her from head to toe.

"Really, sister? Are you the one to accuse me of being a changed person?" He harmlessly twisted his stare, but received a sharp sting on his shoulder, when she pinched in response.

"Hey, That's my brother. You can do whatever you want with Brandon — your brother. Don't you dare touch, Ned." Lya hissed and stood between them both, pushing Aly out of the way. Ned expected Aly to shove Lya to dirt, just like how he used to find them two years ago when they would roll in mud, like swines in dirt, for incomprehensible arguments. But always Lya used to win, even though she was younger to Aly by two years. Now, he was taken aback when Aly crossed her hands across her chest and glared at Lya. That poise reminded Ned of their mother, who would chastise him in a sweet voice when he used to get caught doing something silly.

"I see, sweet sister. But isn't Ben, yours to claim, as you said the last time? In which case, Ned should be shared between us. Or are you disregarding Ben to dirt?" Aly questioned and gave pitied glances towards Ben who was still ahorse. His brother who didn't quite catch the game of his sister's ploy, became suddenly sullen and peeked at Lya with a sad face. "Are you abandoning me, Lya? I thought you want me in your pack." Ben asked.

"I do..." Lya screamed in panic. "I still do... You are the only one who will play with sword-" Lya bit her tongue when she slipped the truth that she had been hiding cleverly from her sister and turned red in getting caught.

"Wow, Lya... You will definitely be a warrior like Rhoyner Queen Nymeria, one day. No doubts. Now that I know your secret, if you don't want me to inform it to father, you will quietly gather yourself and wear the long dress that has been set up for you, in your chamber." Aly fired at Lya.

With no other options to defend herself, Lya huffed and flared in response, as she mumbled curses silently and walked towards her chamber. Ben seemed too occupied in his own world and he followed his sister, letting the stableboys take care of their horses. Finally, Aly glanced up at Ned and gave a wide delighting smile. She looped her arms into his and took him in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Since when did you learn to handle her?" Ned asked in surprise of the way she had done it, which didn't involve any hands at all. "It was quite harsh, sister. You know how much she loves to train."

"Oh, don't fuss over it, Ned. I know what they both are up to. Now and then, I use those informations to my advantage. You see... Being with three brothers and a sister who is equal to three boys, has taught me some tricks under my sleeves." Aly responded.

Ned chuckled and untangled his arm to wrap it around her shoulder. "No wonder Father keeps you by his side."

He had often wondered why his father was more determined, in keeping Aly by his side, ever since they were children. Brandon and Lyanna, had a reputation for making a big mess out of everything. It was because of the wolf blood, that made them do something without thinking through the consequences. Although, he had always looked up to Brandon, Ned knew he himself possessed none of the wolf blood in him. But Aly was neither like Ned nor like Lya.

She was calm and very observant but she had the tenacity to speak her mind out... unless the matter came it of their father, in which case she would do exactly what father would ask of her, with no questions. Brandon could never stand in court and listen to all the petitions of the small folks, merchants and the peasants, even for one day. But Aly had always stood by their father's side, next to the throne of Kings of Winter, from morning to evening, hearing to the pleas and complaints of the small-folks, while father would pass the judgement. She had been doing this ever since she was ten years old, occasionally helping father with required parchments and informations, like a steward for a lord. At that age, all Ned wanted to do was to run and fight in the courtyard. Even attending lessons with the Maester at the Vale was so boring.

Sometimes Ned had wondered if their father was actually punishing her but now he could see that he was actually teaching her to be smart enough to fix the problems politically right, without any fight. The girl who would push her sister to ground in mud only to end up getting beaten up by her younger sister was long gone, replaced by a beautiful, classy young woman, with a thirst in playing ploys to get what she wanted. He couldn't possibly find out, how in the Seven hells had she managed to make Lyanna wear a proper lady's dress.

"I have been waiting for you, since four days." Aly's voice bought him back to the presence. "You know how much you made me worry? How was your journey from the Vale? There are a lot of disturbing news every day about the mountain clans of the Vale causing so much trouble to the travellers. It worried me and Father to bones, brother, especially that you were late." Aly stacked her pile of questions without taking a break.

"Four days?" Ned exclaimed. "I was supposed to come today. Wasn't I?"

She tilted her head and shook her head. "No. In your last letter, you clearly mentioned that you will come in a fortnight and it has been four days, since the fortnight had passed."

"Are you sure, sister? Because I clearly remember -"

"Stop it, brother." Ned turned to find Brandon come with open arms and he instantly made a warm embrace to the man that he had always looked up to. "Welcome home." Brandon parted with a pat on his shoulder and drove his eyes towards Aly with a tug on his lips. "Don't even start to argue with this one. You are eventually going to lose. And even worse, you will lose something that you hold dear."

Ned laughed and observed Aly, who crossed her arms across her chest, staring at Brandon pointedly. "What did you lose, Brandon? Oh, sorry... Did I form the question wrong? What did you lose, yesterday, when you spilled the truth of beating up the Glover boy, while you were drowning in ale like a swine in a sty? Father must hear of the atrocities you are committing."

His brother shook his head and reached for her wrist, but she took off, letting Brandon chase her around. Ned couldn't stop the smile that was pasted on his face, when Brandon — who was strong and tall like a giant, was struggling to catch their little sister, who wouldn't be able to give any worthy fight to anyone around. Gods... He had missed all of this in Vale. Even with Robert around, who he had soon realized to be an exact replication of Brandon, he missed these silly sibling quarrels up there in the tall mountain where cold froze his balls off, even more than the North itself. This time he had planned to stay for two moons, before riding to Vale, where his fostering had almost got over. He was a man and he could make his own choices and his choices always directed him towards Winterfell, as nothing could ever come closer to his heart, like his siblings and the North.

"Oh... Brandon. Please... I will give you, your precious ugly sword back." Aly shouted when Brandon caught her hand and easily lifted her to sit atop his shoulder. "I am scared, you imbecile. Don't drop me..." Aly pleaded clinging to Brandon's long hair.

"Promise me, you won't play any more games with me." Brandon asked but earned only a scoff as a response which made him to tickle her sides, till she bursted out thunder of laughs which echoed all around the castle, letting even the guards who passed by to catch over that infectious smile. Ned felt his head dizzy as he drowned in that moment, when warm fingers curled on his shoulder and he turned around to find his father.

"How was the journey?" Lord Rickard Stark asked in his Lord's tone that he often chose to wear upon himself.

"It was smooth, Father." Ned replied, and they both turned their attention towards Brandon and Allara. But unlike Ned's own smiling face, his father had suited himself with a long one, even when his steely gray eyes hadn't parted an inch away from their siblings' antics. His father had always been strict in their upbringings and the man's smile was long gone, after their mother had passed away. Even with Allara, who everyone assumed to be his favourite child, he spoke less about feelings and emotions, choosing to only assign duties and responsibilities.

"Your sister has specially arranged for the cook to prepare your favourite fish stew, importing it all the way from White Harbour. Come, let us speak more about your stay in the Vale, while you break your fast, when it remains hot." Father guided him towards the Great Hall, where the servants were arranging all of his favourite sea foods. Ned had to nod and follow him, while rehearsing all the details he felt worth of sharing with his father about the Vale. The questions would be mostly about his foster-father Jon Arryn and his health or Elbert Arryn, the heir of Vale. Sometimes it would be also about Robert and their friendship. Although Ned had made a home for himself in the Vale, there was a missing part of his heart that always belonged to the North and he blamed all of that on his father.

When he was forcibly sent to the Eyrie at the age of eight, he practically begged Brandon to take him to the Dustins. At least, in that way, Ned could have been close to home and frequently visited them all whenever needed like Brandon had been. Like Brandon he could have bonded more with his siblings. Brandon had Aly and Benjen had Lya. He was the lone wolf of the pack.

Aly and Brandon shared an unimaginable bonding, that Ned could never have with either one of them, even though Brandon was his hero. When Mother had passed away, Lyanna and Benjen were too young to understand what was happening, while Aly asked a thousand questions and always roamed around Father's leg, begging for answers. Ned couldn't remember much of his Father's presence then, as his father drowned in sorrow and ale in the initial part of that year. It was Brandon who had taken upon himself to comfort his crying sister, even at that young age and answered all her silly questions, which might have been the reason why they were quite tight.

Not that any of that mattered now, especially when his eyes landed on ten different sea food meals prepared of lobsters, crabs, salt fish, eels, crispy finger fish — his most favourites were spread across the table. His eyes almost felt wet for his sister's love, but he had to be a man now, and he could not shed tears in front of his father, so he collected himself and filled up his plate with pursed lips.

"She is just like Mother." He commented to himself but his father nodded his head warily, as Ned slurped on his stew.

"Aye, that she is... But everything good in the form of a woman would one day leave, letting us — the men to suffer."

Ned stopped picking his food, and stared at his father for a longer time, trying to decode that unrecognizable language his father spoke. Was he referring about the death of his mother? Or was he speaking about Aly? Why would Aly leave us to suffer? Unless... She would get betrothed to someone. He learned she flowered a year ago, in one of her letters. Of course, his father had to send her away, now that he was a free man to come home. Ned felt his appetite gone hearing that news, and he even forgot to ask who she was getting matched for.

Rhaegar sat amidst the ruins, where the ceremony had taken place. It must have been a Great Hall as he could still see the faded paintings of his ancestors riding dragons, on the broken ceilings. This was the place, where his beloved family members burned alive, in an attempt to bring dragons to life. And he was drawn to come to this place, over and over, even if it hurt him so much because it reminded him of his own family's betrayal towards him.

He isolated himself to be away from wrong people, especially the ones that filled his father's counsel and mostly indulged in the company of books, because books never betrayed or painted false words to praise glory. Books never lied to him and Rhaegar loved truth, like his Grand Uncle Aemon Targaryen. Had he been given a choice, he would have preferred to join the Night's Watch, with his Grand Uncle, instead of being the heir to the King.

But he knew the prophecy of dark times, and as all men, he should do his duty and the Gods had chosen him to be the Prince that was Promised. He always had a keen interest in riddles and puzzles, even as a child. But the one with the arrival of the dark times was not a pass-time riddle to play with. The prophecy that led to their parent's marriage, to give birth to him. He figured out the answer of the riddle, and even his Grand Uncle, the wisest member of his family — his closest confidante next to his mother, acknowledged of it.

So, he set his heart and soul in training with a sword. Yet, sword was not the weapon he yearned to wield. The only weapon that fascinated him was his harp.

Rhaegar let his fingers brush the strands of his silver harp and closed his eyes to imagine the pain, his family would have endured in the exact same place, he was sitting. Did they scream calling for the Gods? Did their body blister in fire? Should he be relieved that it was not him who caught in the fire? Perhaps, he was never supposed to be alive. Had he died in their stead, the dragons would have been born and his whole family would have been there. He was the result of a cursed sorcery.

His own breath choked in his lungs, when truth dawned on his shoulders about the nature of his birth and the grandest treachery that his forefathers had committed. He regretted for the first time of reading the prophecies. A fire inside of him burned to rouse his temper, that was in need of tending, and when the surrounding air changed its scent, he unsheathed his long sword and spun around to point it exactly at the intruder's throat, making drops of blood to roll down.

His nerves calmed down, when he met the intruder's purple orbs, that shone, for the sunlight. The dornish man gave a chuckle while easily brushing his long sword away.

"A Kingsguard must be more alert." Rhaegar commented.

"And a man with a sword must never delay cutting down the enemy." Arthur responded casually.

Rhaegar shook his head warily and sheathed his sword. If only killing was as easy as Arthur spoke, he would have killed a thousand criminals who were infesting the city. He picked his harp and placed it securely inside the good parts of the castle. "Since when have I asked you to guard me, in Summerhall?"

Rhaegar preferred to be alone and found solace in the castle ruins, rather than get accompanied. Not even his Queen Mother could persuade him to go with a guard. Even when his own mother could not understand the reason behind it, Arthur had never questioned. His friend would simply follow. Not that he had a choice, being a Kingsguard with oaths sworn to his family, But Arthur was more than a friend to Rhaegar, like a brother that he never had. Growing up alone, for the most part of his childhood, Rhaegar became so close with his sworn sword, who was patient enough to teach him the arts of swinging a sword. When Rhaegar found silence as the response, he turned around to find his friend move awkwardly without any answer.

"I have come on King's order, my Prince." Arthur answered.

Rhaegar couldn't stop clenching his jaw in anger, at the mere mention of his father. If there was one more darkness, the Kingdom required to be removed, it would be his father. For all the madness, and atrocities his father was committing, in the position of King, he believed that there would be revolt or a rebellion soon to happen in the corners of the Kingdom. Rhaegar had been trying to stop his father's paranoia, but the King's small council had been spilling poison to drift both of their relationship to become sour and unmendable. He didn't want it to be mended either. The King had gone a long way to right his wrong and he would not say his father's doubts were baseless. Rhaegar was hoping to find a way to take back the throne from the Mad King, ever since he found bruises on his mother's face, the last time.

"What does he want from me, this time?" Rhaegar asked in agitation, as he walked towards the castle gates, where his horse was grazing the grass. The last time, when his father summoned him, he had gathered the whole court and accused him of treason and treachery. He wondered what scene his father was going to display to the crowd.

"Ah... That- I-..." Arthur struggled with his words and Rhaegar lazed upon his friend's face with dagger throwing sharp eyes to startle him. "He has arranged a match for you." For a moment, Rhaegar worried if his father was summoning to execute him or better... burn him. The answer gave a relief to his friend's surprise.

"Don't scrutinize me, with your eyes. Unlike you, I haven't been with so many women." Rhaegar paused when he felt his cheeks burn at the mere mention about women. He was never good in even holding a long conversation with them, let alone to think about being intimate with one. So, he would generally sing a song and escape from their gazes, even when he knew many liked his presence. But it didn't mean he never wanted to marry. He wanted to share his life with someone, who could see him to be more than just a Prince and an heir to the throne. Perhaps, one day he could to bring her here to this ruined castle and tell the tale of his birth. He had been so alone, for so long, and a woman's presence around him would might give him hope. "It's about time, to go for a ride with a lady, in my horse."

Rhaegar commented casually and mounted his black destrier while feeling his friend's eyes burning his back. There was a sudden change of disappointment that started spreading on his friend's sun kissed face, and Rhaegar curiously looked at him for an answer. "Nothing important to put your mind to, your Grace." Arthur lingered carefully with his reply.

"No, you are clearly hiding something. Spill it out. It is your Prince's order." He urged knowing Arthur would do anything, if he simply even asked.

"Your betrothed will not be able to ride in horses with you." Arthur whispered in hesitation.

"Why not? Is she a creature of the sea?" Rhaegar formed a poor jape, that ended in no laughter.

"No... She is from my soil. She is a very beautiful woman but not a rider, I suppose. She is quite fragile."

"Did my father choose your sister?" Rhaegar questioned in surprise. "Does your sister not know to ride?"

Arthur slowly trotted his horse, with amused lips. "You are not lucky enough to get my sister's hand, my Prince." He answered proudly and gave a mocking glance like an over-protective brother. Rhaegar never understood a brother-sister relationship, even though Arthur would mention about his sister — Lady Ashara quite often, his friend was reluctant to even consider himself — the crown Prince, as a possible match for his sister. He doubted if the Lady Ashara would ever get married at all.

"Well, 'unluck' is my other name. You seem to have a lot of knowledge about my betrothed. Why don't you spell out her name?"

"It's the Princess of Dorne, Elia Nymeros Martell, your Grace." Arthur replied.

Rhaegar did not know of the lady, although his mother would have probably mentioned about her, while casually remarking about the eligible ladies of different houses. Those informations would serve no use to him as his father would pick the lady exact opposite of the one that he would propose. "Tell me more about her. I would like to know her likes and dislikes, so I can do anything to make her be happy with me." Rhaegar asked thinking about the failure in his parent's marriage — especially his father's treatment towards his mother. All the accusations towards his mother for losing her children whilst he whored his way. His blood boiled to even think about those times.

"She is very sweet and kind. You will definitely like her, Rhaegar. Only... She needs more care." His friend ended without further decoration to his words. Rhaegar didn't want to pursue further on the topic. He would eventually get to know about her and probably would fall in love with her, one day. Now, he had to get ready to face his mad father, who would have gathered for a meeting to insult him again.