(Winterfell: 5/9/298 AC) Ned I
The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon as Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, and his household guards readied their horses to begin the long journey south to King's Landing. The royal procession had also been in the midst of preparing for the long journey back, only to stall for several hours, as guards and servants tried to awake the King from his deep slumber. The Stark family and household servants had arisen to bid him, his eldest daughter Sansa, and his second son Bran, farewell.
"Oh Sansa, you look beautiful," Catelyn Stark gushed as her eyes glistened in the rising sun. She parted a loose strand of hair away from Sansa's shoulder before his daughter shot into her mother's arms. "I'll miss you," his wife muttered sadly, "Write often, and when you become Queen, make sure to come visit. Hmmm?"
"I will, I will," his daughter cried, tears running down her rosy cheeks.
As his wife and elder daughter broke their embrace, the Lady of Winterfell planted a light kiss on their daughter's forehead. Afterward, Robb, Arya, and Rickon, came forward to embrace their sister and speak their own goodbyes, as his lady wife moved towards their second youngest son. "Bran, be careful. No climbing the walls of King's Landing," she chastised, with a smile, a single tear escaping her left eye.
She kissed Bran's forehead, as well, before his son spoke in a slightly broken voice, "Do not worry mother. I will be busy speaking with all of the knights and lords. Maybe I will meet Ser Steffon!" At the last statement, his son's voice grew in excitement, and his lady wife cast a look towards him before resuming her smile and embracing their son a final time.
She came up to him, and spoke, "And you, my love, be very careful in that viper's nest." A soft warm kiss reached his mouth, coming from the woman he called his wife. A woman that he had not been intended for, but one he had grown to love over their long years of marriage. "If you need someone to trust in that place, trust Baelish," she said, rotating her head to the side.
'Trust the man, whom Brandon nearly killed?' he thought, his eyes following his wife's own, as she turned. He found himself staring at Lady Azula speaking with her daughter Ursa. A ring of six Flameguard, kept a comfortable distance away from the mother and daughter, keeping others from entering their private circle, while the Lady Azula's mount waited near her. Their ward, Ursa, held her hands to her side, back straight and stiff, while Lord Stannis' lady wife circled her like a wolf. They had been a noticeable distance away from the rest of the royal procession, hugging the eastern wall separating the Great Hall and the Courtyard, and as such were unable to be overheard. From what the Lord of Winterfell could see, and the look in her eyes, Ursa's mother appeared to be issuing sharp words. After the Lady Azula had finished speaking she had remained motionless for a few moments, before reaching over with her right hand and pulling out a scroll from a small pouch attached to the saddle of her pitch black Destrier. She handed the scroll to her daughter, while her left hand held a firm grip on the sheathed Valyrian steel sword strapped to her side. Their young ward made a fist and slapped it against her own flat palm. As she held both hands in front of her chest, she bowed her head, before freeing her hands, and receiving the scroll. "Be cautious with her," his lady wife uttered quietly.
They had arguments surrounding the Lady of Dragonstone before, and he did not wish to tread over the same ones yet again, so he held his tongue. He loved his wife, dearly, but she did not understand war. So he merely responded with, "I will, my love," before clasping her hand in his and planting a light kiss on the back of it. He looked into her eyes and saw her let the thoughts of Lady Azula drift out of her mind.
As they shared their tender moment, his beloved nuzzling her head against his chest, he noticed a seventh figure approach the ring of Flameguard surrounding the Lady Azula and her daughter. Jon Snow, his 'son,' came upon the group, clad in the colors and uniform of the Dragonstone guard. Over the last three years of Ursa's stay, he had noticed his 'son,' who was truthfully his nephew, growing closer towards the young Flameguard who protected Ursa. Jun was a slight girl of four and ten, scarcely a year older than Ursa herself, pale, and with minor Yi-Tish features shaping her eyes and nose. Catelyn had said she was a comely girl, who did not hold the stern, rigid features of Lady Azula's daughter. From what he recalled, 'Jun was the daughter of one of Azula's "Wisemen," or so she had said, 'and had been a childhood friend of Ursa, alongside Brienne, during their time at the Academy.' The Lady Brienne was only two years older than Jun and was almost as stern as Lord Stannis' daughter. She, unlike Ursa, was capable of giving a genuine smile that did not feel…odd. As for Jun, Eddard Stark had no reason to mistrust her affections for Jon, as she was kind, gentle, and humorous. She got along well with his household and could often be found reading in Winterfell's library, when not accompanying the young lady from Dragonstone. 'It was during one of Ursa's sparring sessions in the courtyard before Cat had put a stop to them, that Jon had first met the young woman,' he remembered. Ever since then, the two had been inseparable, often meeting early in the mornings to break their fast, and joining each other for walks outside Winterfell when Ursa would allow it. He and the rest of his household, barring Cat, had been happy for him.
"When is the wedding?" Robb would jokingly ask.
"About the same time as yours," he remembered Jon responding, with a grin.
When news had reached them of Robert's trip to the north, and that Azula would be accompanying him, Jon had grown nervous. He had spoken to him about his wish in asking the Lady Azula to allow him to be the third guardian of her daughter, and that once Ursa's time as ward was concluded, to be allowed to journey back to Dragonstone with her.
(Winterfell: 3/8/298 AC) Ned I
"Dragonstone does not care about the nature of one's birth, father, what matters is what you can achieve, and how you can better serve the realm," Jon had said.
Ned had been proud, and wary, of his nephew's desire to be in such proximity to King's Landing. 'However, who was he to deny Lyanna's son?' he thought, 'No one else, knew of Jon's true parentage, save Howland, so what was the harm?' The alternative had been the Watch, which Jon had spoken to him about several times, before Ursa's arrival. 'The cold loneliness of the wall with criminals and a handful of honorable men?' came the question, 'Or the beaches of Dragonstone with a woman he loved, and an environment that, if tales were to be believed, would not judge him for being a Snow?' He mentally scoffed, 'No, it was no choice at all.' He had spoken to Catelyn about Jon's wishes, that night, and she had been reserved, cautious.
"When will Ursa be departing?" he remembered her asking, as she rested her head in the crook of his neck.
"Lord Stannis and Lady Azula have said when she turns six and ten years of age," came his tired response, rubbing her exposed shoulder with his fingers.
"Four years more, and he will be gone?" she muttered, the sheets and furs shifting over them as she maneuvered to get a better look into his eyes.
He had known she held no love for Jon, but she could not have known the truth of his parentage either. He had taken the burden of claiming him as his own, when he returned from the south, after the war. "Aye," he answered, staring into the deep blue pools of her eyes.
(Winterfell: 4/23/298 AC) Ned I
Several days after Robert's and Lady Azula's arrival, Jon had entered his study, shaken, and spoke of asking the Lady of Dragonstone to be made Ursa's third Flameguard. Ned had been prepared to speak kind words, until Jon's face grew a smile, "She accepted."
At those words, the Lord of Winterfell began to restructure his thoughts regarding the Lady of Dragonstone. 'She is unpredictable,' he thought. She was ruthless, in the war, to her enemies. Yet, judging from her reaction towards the bodies of the royal family, and the fact she brought the young prince Viserys back to Robert alive, she was unwilling to spill the blood of innocents. Her readiness to accept Jon as a guardian for her daughter, spoke volumes of her character, for she truly did not care about the origins of one's birth, she only judged them by their merits. 'I need to ask her of this later,' he thought, before adding 'I need to ask her many things.'
(Barrowlands: 5/14/298 AC) Ned I
After five days of travel, and reminiscing with Robert, which usually involved far too much wine and ale to his liking, the Lord of Winterfell sought some departure from his old friend's drunken ramblings. It had been midday when he took to his gray palfrey, accompanied by several Stark guard, and trotted toward the back end of the royal caravan where the Lady Azula rode alongside her Flameguard and small, ornate, carriage. She noticed him, and nodded her head before speaking, "Lord Stark, what brings you to the end of the caravan?" She smiled, before continuing, "Had enough of the king's tawdry tales?"
He couldn't help but chuckle, "Aye, my Lady."
"He is a good man, a fine warrior, but…" she paused, before concluding, "he remains trapped in the past." She waved her guards off, as he pulled his mount beside hers.
The Lord of Winterfell slumped his shoulders, and responded, "That he does," he glanced towards her. "He speaks well of you, and your son, you know?"
"I am aware he does," she stated, before removing one hand from her reins, aiming to readjust her red fur cloak. "While at the same time disparaging his brother, Lord Stannis, my husband," she looked at him. "But I hold no ill will towards his grace. Family squabbles are natural after all."
"Indeed, they are. My daughters have proven as much," he smiled, and the Lady Azula smiled with him.
"Speaking of daughters, has mine been…hospitable?" she questioned, looking towards the west, and the receding tree line of the Wolfswood. A gentle breeze swept through, as she turned her head back towards him, awaiting an answer.
"She has been nothing but dutiful. A bit distant, at times, but no issues," he said truthfully. He had known her to be close friends with Arya, but he knew her to be training and advising her in combat, and held nothing but gratitude for it. Even if it was against the wishes of his lady wife, he began to see Arya become more respectful towards her sister and mother. She was driven in her studies and, in general, she was happier. He knew the tragedy of keeping a she-wolf restrained, and if being friends with Ursa Baratheon kept Arya happy, then so be it. He had told his Lady-wife of his suspicions, prior to departing, and she had, surprisingly, accepted it. She had been upset, to be sure, but she spoke of not wanting to destroy what Arya had forged with the young doe from Dragonstone. She had been afraid that if she did, she would lose Arya.
(Winterfell: 5/6/298 AC) Ned I
"Losing one daughter is enough," she had said, three days prior to his departure from Winterfell, before preempting his response. "No! Ned, it is Sansa's wish to go. What kind of mother would I be if I let one of my daughters follow their dream while stifling the aspirations of the other?" His lady wife may have held some distrust towards Lady Azula, upon meeting her for the first time when she had accompanied the royal party to Winterfell, yet somehow she trusted that Ursa Baratheon was not like her mother. "Mothers can tell the difference," she had claimed.
(Barrowlands: 5/14/298 AC) Ned I
"That is good," she responded, the soft trotting of their horses providing a comfortable silence. "Your Lady wife, speaks well of your son."
Pride swelled in his heart. "Robb is…" he began.
"No, not him, though she speaks well of him also," she interrupted, "The other one, Jon Snow."
Ned took some time to recover, causing the Lady Azula to raise her eyebrow. "He is a fine lad. He knows how to fight, he is honorable, and is understanding with others," he responded, still somewhat reeling from the news that Catelyn had spoken well of Jon. However, it did not take too long, before he came to the realization that she had likely only done so, to get him to leave. 'Surely there was no greater acknowledgment, of an individual's character, than a woman speaking well of her husband's bastard?' he thought. In her efforts to be rid of Jon, she had unknowingly made his future far better than it otherwise would have been.
"Good. I could use good men and women on Dragonstone," she said, before adding, "Speaking of women, Ursa mentioned your youngest daughter's desire to come to Dragonstone. Is this true?"
"First I am hearing of it, my Lady," he replied. All the while knowing that that was the likely outcome of the friendship Arya and Ursa shared. Whether Cat would allow Arya to leave was another matter entirely. She allowed them to be friends, but to physically lose her only other daughter to the South? He was unsure.
Now it was the Lady Azula's turn to chuckle, "Well, perhaps I've said too much?"
He smiled, "No, they are good friends. It is only reasonable to assume my daughter would have wished to accompany yours back to Dragonstone."
"She would be more than welcome," replied the Lady of Dragonstone.
Together the rode their horses down the King's Road in comfortable silence, with their respective guards accompanying them. He thought on the questions, regarding her acceptance of Jon, he had been meaning to ask, but chose to abandon them. After the Lady of Dragonstone had revealed that it was Catelyn who recommended Jon to her, his suspicions had been quieted. As he sat atop his horse, in contemplative silence, the Lady of Dragonstone spoke.
"Lord Arryn spoke well of you," she said, shaking him out of his thoughts. He focused his eyes on her, as she looked forward, and spoke. "Although, I suppose I should not be surprised," she glanced at him, before adding, "You are a good man, Lord Stark. Years may have passed since the end of his Grace's Rebellion, but I still remember that moment in the Throne Room."
'As do I,' he thought.
(King's Landing: 11/22/283 AC) Ned I
In the sudden confusion brought about by the Lady Azula and her Firenation guard emptying the contents of their stomachs, on the stone floor, Robert had demanded the young Targaryen's head. Even as he rushed to defend the frightened young Viserys, he held a small amount of respect for the pregnant, foreign-looking, girl. A girl whom he had first met in this Throne room, at this moment, escorting a young, living, Targaryen prisoner. A girl who had reacted with just as much disgust as he had, upon viewing the broken corpses of Princess Elia and her two children. He remembered telling Robert, "If you strike down Viserys, you will be no friend of the north, no friend of mine." The words had echoed in his mind, and Robert had been furious, but Jon had done his best to alleviate the situation, suggesting the young Targaryen be sent to the wall. "I will escort him north, after finding my sister," he remembered saying, clutching at the scared, silver-white haired, boy. Robert had shouted his inevitable response, "Fine! Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you, bring your sister back, and go! Run back to Winterfell! If I ever see him again," he jutted his finger towards Viserys, "I'll have his head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool!"
-( Barrowlands: 5/14/298 AC) Ned I
"I may not have been…in the best condition…during your argument with Robert, but I caught enough to know that you are not like the rest of the individuals who populate the Red Keep." A brief pause hung in the air before she added, "My husband, and the late Jon Arryn, being the exception, of course."
'No mention of Baelish?' he thought. "And what of Petyr Baelish? Catelyn has said he is trustworthy." As he spoke his words he saw the small form of Lady Azula seize up, before letting out a hearty laugh.
"Forgive me, my lord," she said, flicking a nonexistent tear from her eyes. "I do not presume to judge your lady wife's choices in trustworthy characters, but Baelish?" All mirth had fallen from her face, and she looked at him, "Baelish is no Baelor the Blessed. He is a very dangerous man. He serves one master, above all others, himself."
"She knew him as a child," he began, "said he was headstrong, yet honorable."
"As a child, perhaps. But he is a man now, and King's Landing has a habit of changing those who reside within," she looked at him. "You are no such man, Lord Stark, and I know a part of you understands this. As you stood in the Throne room you saw how it changed Robert. Even over the course of a few hours, you saw."
He locked his eyes with her, before nodding the truth of her words.
She returned her gaze towards the path ahead, and spoke, "The Throne has had fifteen years to work it black tendrils into his heart, and body. Just as he is physically a shadow of the man he had once been, so too is his soul. He still tries to be a good man, spirits help him, but the pressures of ruling the kingdoms will not stop until he is destroyed," she lowered her head and glanced towards the mane of her horse, her hands sifting through the silky smooth hair. "Lord Arryn tried to help him, just as you will try to help him. But where he failed, will you succeed?" She spoke the last, her golden eyes observing his gray ones, searching for something.
"I will do what I can to help him, it is what a hand is for," he replied.
"He requires more than help, Lord Stark. He needs someone to save him," she said.
"From who?" he questioned, the world seemingly growing quiet at the grave statement.
"From himself," she uttered, before the King and Jamie Lannister rode into view, "and from those who would do him harm…" She said the last, in a low growl, and he saw her intense eyes locking with the form of Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer.
