So the bad news is that this has taken about seven years to publish because I'm a dumb bitch (excuse my language it's 3am while I'm writing this and I have four hour of psychology work tomorrow). BUT the good news is that chapter 6 is nearly done and will be up soon, chapter 7 is about half way through and I have about 25 chapters planned out (also for some reason I've written chapter 12 aswell, which I'm hoping you guys will enjoy as much as I do). I know loads of people don't read these so there's not a huge amount in telling you anything hugely important, but this is around the time where things start picking up a bit – there's a lot of secrets and all that starting to come out. A couple people are asking me if there's going to be a lot of violence and while there's no wars for quite a while, it does get quite bloody at points (not too bad though because I can't write about dead bodies with a straight face for some reason?)
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Eddard I
"If you carry on frowning so much, people will think I've married an old man."
Eddard turned at the sound of his wife's voice, his scowl relaxing almost immediately. "You'd never allow such a thing."
Catelyn smiled warmly at him, though he could see the worry in her eyes. "Indeed not." She paused a moment, as if deciding whether to speak further; at his slightly raised eyebrow, she continued. "Ned, why did the King wish to speak with you alone?"
He took a deep breath. Though he had known she would ask him at some point, he had hoped that they might at least have some privacy. "There was no bad news." His simple words held many meanings, and he saw the small worry lines on his wife's face smooth almost imperceptibly. Her eyes filled with too many emotions for him to recognise them all, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him, despite only the heavy oak doors between them and their guests.
She did not. Instead, she leaned ever so slightly closer to him and whispered, "I fear for Robb and the Targaryen girl Ned, the dragon and the wolf have never had such an alliance." Neither felt the need to mention Lyanna and Rhaegar's love affair; for all the King loved his wife and was a good ruler, it pained Ned to see the man who had allowed Lyanna to die alone and who still neglected Jon.
"Robb's a strong lad Cat," he said soothingly. "He'll manage that girl just fine. He's always liked a bit of a challenge anyway." She seemed placated somewhat, though her eyes glanced at the doors as though she could see through them to her son and his betrothed.
"We should really be returning, shouldn't we?" Catelyn murmured.
"Of course." The Lord of Winterfell allowed himself a small smile as he opened the heavy door for her, the sound of cheering and shouting filling their ears. "Along you go, they'll be wondering where their lovely hostess has disappeared to. I'll be there in a moment." She shot him an odd look but did not deny him; she merely stood up straighter and pushed her shoulders back, entering the room with a gracious and a only somewhat fake smile.
He waited until the door had closed behind her to pull his sword out carefully and gaze around at the deserted hallway he stood in, the harsh wind rattling against the window the only other sound he could hear. Though the slight screech of steel was usually calming to his frayed nerves, this time it did nothing to rid him of his unease. With all of their visitors dining on the finest food in the North and all but a few of his servants serving them, there was no one that should have been roaming around the castle. One glance at the floor told him that no one had entered from the courtyard, still damp from the icy rain earlier that day, and the heavy doors to the castle's entrance had been shut earlier that day to prevent intruders from slipping inside during the chaos. Darkness had fallen more than an hour previously, and he was alone.
He turned abruptly and followed his wife into the dining hall, eyes burning into his back and Rhaegar's words ringing in his ears.
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Both men had remained silent for the first few minutes, neither weak enough to allow the discomfort to force their words. Rhaegar had dropped his smile and pleasantries the moment the door had closed behind them. His mouth fixed in a hard line, he gazed out of the window at the harsh yet beautiful – in Ned's opinion, at least – landscape, dangerous violet eyes catching every ripple in the wind. Catelyn had always believed that one's eyes revealed their true nature, and that a person's goodness could be judged simply by the truth found within their gaze. While Ned had always found this difficult to comprehend, it was almost impossible to believe his wife's words to be more than any of Sansa's little stories with Rhaegar in front of him. His eyes lied – at least, they had when he had promised Lyanna his protection.
He is a good King, Ned reminded himself sharply. It does not do the mind well to dwell on such things of the past. It was considerably more difficult to move on from the death of his sister with Jon wandering about the castle, and painful memories bubbled to the surface of his mind whenever he glanced at the boy's father. A good King? Undoubtably, he was honourable and just. He had changed much since he was a young prince, reckless and wild, and many had forgotten about the tragic and ill-fated love affair of Lyanna Stark and the Targayen heir.
But Ned could not forget.
Despite all he had done to right his father's wrongs, to create a dynasty of more than destruction and madness, it could never override the death of Lyanna at his hands – it did not matter to Ned that he had never directly cut her throat, he was more than responsible for the foolish wedding and promises of happiness, for the birth of his son that finally killed her. Rhaegar Targaryen had a wife and two children, had he truly needed to corrupt an innocent girl's mind and drag her into his sick war? Perhaps it was not a mercy, as Ned and Catelyn had seen it at the time, to not take their power and land from them after Robert Baratheon lost his head. Perhaps in was only for Lyanna and her son that Rahegar had spared them.
The King slowly moved from his position next to the wall to take a seat by the fire place. Interesting, Ned thought distractedly as he watched the silver-haired man rub his hands together, it would appear that only one Targaryen does not fear the cold. It was only when Rhaegar laughed that he realised he had spoken his observations aloud.
"We are all immune to fire, but the cold seems to be a somewhat more selective power." Rhaegar revealed with another twitch of his lips, the unhappiness he had felt before either gone or cleverly hidden. "Only Daenerys and our mother have been unable to be touched by either. I used to rage at the Gods in jealousy, but they have a strange way of working as we both know, and my sister has always been… rather singular." Ned tried not to think of what that could mean in the future for his son. "I know you heard about Mace Tyrell?"
The Lord of Winterfell nodded grimly. "He was a good man, I'm sorry, your Grace. He was always loyal to you." That was a lie, and Rhaegar had no issues with voicing that knowledge.
"He was loyal to power, as are the rest of those houses. I'm one King running seven kingdoms Lord Stark and I have none truly loyal. I need your help." At the look of shock Ned could feel on his face, he let out a harsh bark of laughter. "You can't really believe I came all the way here just to introduce my sister to your son? The Seven Kingdoms needs a Hand of the King, Eddard, and I know you were one of Robert's best advisors."
Tread carefully, Ned reminded himself calmly, thinking of his words with caution. "I did help in that regards, it is true." Neither man mentioned that Ned's advice had nearly cost the Targaryens their dynasty, though the ugly truth weighed heavily on the room and made the air uncomfortable in Ned's lungs with every breath. "But I hardly think I would be the best choice – many other houses would be honoured to serve House Targaryen."
"And that's exactly why they shouldn't." Rhaegar countered. "All these men want is to look honourable, how many can you name me that truly are?" Ned was thankful that he did not wait for a reply, since he indeed had not one name. "You would make a worthy Hand, Eddard, you're no use to anyone turning into an icicle up here." He paused for longer this time, as if unsure whether to speak his next words. "A war is coming."
Ned stared at him in horror and surprise – whispers of another war for the throne had not yet reached his ears – but Rhaegar held up a hand before he could speak.
"I don't know when and I don't know who against, but a war's coming and I need to know that the people around me will do what's best for the kingdoms, not their bloody pockets. The Lannisters, Tyrells, none of them are loyal – even the Baratheons act on what they think is right more often than my advisors do." He leant forward, as if sharing a conspiracy. "You rebelled against my father because you believed it was the right thing to do. I need someone who can make those decisions with me, and I can't very well appoint my sister, can I?" He let out an incredulous laugh at the idea, giving Ned a moment to recover from the discomfort that had suddenly invaded him at the mention of the failed rebellion. Even he could acknowledge that Rhaegar had been a good king for the Seven Kingdoms, but watching Robert's execution had always been something painful to revisit.
"No, I suppose not."
The King nodded and stared at Ned with more intensity than the Lord of Winterfell had ever seen in him. "I want to make a better world, and I can't do that fighting a war when I don't my enemies. I need you." His pause was brief and decisive. "Lord Eddard Stark, I name you Hand of the King."
Ned smiled grimly, his fate sealed with those words. "I accept."
OoOoO
Even to Ned, a devout believer in the Old Gods, the godswood at this hour was a frightening place. The lake did not ripple with life as it did in the light, and the darkness concealed anything the moon could not touch. It was an uncomfortable feeling after a day of feeling as though he was being followed, and a shiver escaped across his shoulders. The half-shadowed face no longer looked as welcoming as it had earlier that day, and the wind that sang through the leaves now sounded like a scream in the eerie darkness.
Nevertheless, the heart tree remained, even in darkness, the best place for him to think, and he remained seated with his eyes closed despite the mild discomfort. His children all were frightened to a degree of the old power found in the godswood; even Robb, to Ned's amusement, would not remain in the wood past nightfall, the natural fear of the Old Gods' power too strong for even him. Only Jon's Northern belief was strong, and he frequently prayed at all times of the day with Ned, showing only respect for their gods.
Robb may be the heir to Winterfell, but the North is strong within Jon too; Lyanna had made sure of it, Ned thought grimly.
It was common for larger animals to hunt in the godswood during the night, so it took a few moments for Ned to determine that the quiet sounds nearby sounded distinctly human. He rose quietly and stood, partially obscured by the heart tree, Ice quickly unsheathed and held at the ready. The rustling grew louder, accompanied by light footsteps. Who would come to pray here alone at this time? All of his children and the servants had retired for the night, and – as far as Ned knew, at least – none of his guests prayed to the Old Gods. He waited with bated breath as the figure stumbled into the clearing.
He almost didn't recognise Queen Elia; she looked very different with her hair a messy halo around her and jewels no longer draped across her neck and arms. She gazed around the godswood in a clear daze, and Ned stared in shock at her bare arms – it was suicide to wear so little in the North, yet she seemed unable to pay attention to the freezing wind around them. He approached her slowly, as if she were a wounded animal. "Your Grace, it's late to be here."
She whirled around to face him, her eyes glassy and her lips parted. She began to murmur in a frenzied rush, as though the words burned her throat as she spoke them. Long dark hair was twirled and tangled around trembling fingers as she continued her whisperings, still too far away for Ned to make out the words. He pushed himself forward slightly, more apprehensive than he cared to admit at the thought of dealing with a woman in a state of such agitation. "Queen Elia, do you need me to take you back to the castle?" Gods, if she was like this, how did Rhaegar ever let her out of his sight? She did not reply, only continued to pull on her dress and hair frantically, her words now slightly clearer as he crept closer.
"Can't tell the King, can't tell the King…. He'll want to know, not good to hide secrets… Lyanna hid secrets, Lyanna's gone, Lyanna's gone…. Can't tell the King…. Treason, treason, not good, treason's not good… No, no, no, not good…"
Ned stared in utter confusion and mounting worry for the Queen. "My Queen, what can you not tell the King?"
Her eyes appeared not to see them as she continued, her voice still growing louder. "Can't tell the King, the King doesn't like liars… Not Daenerys either, no, no, no, too many lies… Treason, treason, Lyanna's gone, Robert's gone, too many gone.. Can't tell the King." Her voice rose with each word, and by the time she had mentioned Robert's name her voice was a choked scream, even as her eyes remained vacant and her face slack. "Can't know, can't know… They'll have my head, my head, can't take my head… Can't tell the King… Lyanna told the King and Lyanna's not here…"
He grabbed her hands as they violently grabbed at her hair in desperation, a loud wail filling the cold air of the night. He forced her chin up to look at him, silently praying that she would not punish him later, and forced her dark brown eyes to stare back at his slate grey ones. "Your Grace, I need you to tell me what has happened. I can help."
For a moment, her eyes filled with life, and a fear so crippling gazed back at him with such force that he had to close his eyes for a moment. When they opened, however, hers were clouded and empty once again, and the frenzied words that had stopped for a moment returned. Thankfully, they were now a whisper.
She drifted away from him and he did not follow; she would be able to make her own way back to the castle, and he feared his presence would only destress her further. Her mumbles grew faint and then inaudible as she wandered back towards the trees and disappeared within them, leaving behind her a concerned man with the deep suspicion that something was very wrong indeed.
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So apparently President Trump is genuinely being impeached, we'll see what happens with that. (Think most of the people reading this story are American actually, I don't know what you guys think of him.)
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