Ned stared vaguely at the intricately carved tester as he bathed in the early rays of sunlight. It was too late to try and return to the realm of dreams, but too early to rise and prepare himself for the day.

He felt Ashara shift beside him. "What is it?" she said sleepily. How does she know I am awake?

"The Targaryens," said Ned softly. "Did I make the honourable decision?" With a muffled groan, Ashara felt around, grabbed a silky pillow and slammed it in his face. "Go to sleep," she ordered with a yawn. "What is done, is done. You showed Robert the boy's body, the babe is on her way to Winterfell and as far as Robert and the other lords are concerned, the Targaryens are no more. Go to sleep Ned. You need your strength for your first small council meeting." She snuggled closer to him. "Think about our future children," she whispered groggily. "Would that not make a more pleasant dream than the Targaryens?" She drifted back to sleep easily; Ned did not.

The Targaryen infant was named Daenerys (Ashara's idea) and under Lord Howland's care, was on her way to Winterfell under the name 'Sand'. Ashara and he had agreed to pass the child off as her brother Lord Dayne's bastard. With her strands of silver-blonde hair and purple eyes, the people would suspect her less as a Targaryen once she was acknowledged as a Dayne's bastard. After all, stony Dornishmen like the Daynes resembled those of Andal and First Men blood and the Daynes luckily share the traits of violet eyes. What was even more fortuitous was that certain Daynes such as their cadet branch from High Hermitage also happened to have silver hair. Perhaps his marriage to Lady Ashara Dayne carried more advantages than he thought; mayhaps both the old gods and new entwined it in his destiny; he did not care. Daenerys was born a Targaryen and named a Sand, but she will be raised a Stark.

As for Viserys…Ned tried to think of something else. Think of your future sons and daughters. Think of your future children. He closed his eyes and pictured a lad around eight run towards him, his purple eyes shining as brightly as the stars as he crowed in triumph after his first victory in shooting a bull's eye; another boy trailing behind him, his grey eyes glazed with wonder as he was presented his first horse; a little girl as pretty as her mother with cascading dark hair and violet eyes singing the songs of summer; perhaps another daughter with more of a Stark look – a long face and grey eyes – with a flickering flame of wildness. Oh, he would love a daughter as wolf-blooded as Brandon and Lyanna. He wondered how Ashara would react to a wild daughter with no desire to be like a southron lady. He chuckled silently. Ashara was not exactly a demure lady herself.

Ned slipped in and out of light dreams as swiftly as one would change tunics on a hot summer's day. He was back in the Eyrie…no, now he was in Winterfell's godswood, soothing a crying babe…Robert was announcing something…a fair maiden with purple eyes was speaking to him in a foreign tongue…a Northern boy swooped towards him on the back of a dragon…the great creature opened its mouth and he was engulfed in hungry flames…


"Ned." Ned grunted as he felt someone shake his shoulders. "Ned." He opened a tired eye. "NED!" He scrambled up, looking around wildly. He paused when he heard Ashara cackle with laughter. "That is not funny, lady wife," Ned said with mock severity. "Do you wish to kill your husband with fright?"

Ashara shrugged, a smirk hovering on her lips. "If I loathe my husband I might. However, the gods have blessed me with a kind husband. You better wake up if you want a spot of breakfast. I had the maid fetch us bowls of porridge, pots of honey, flagons of milk, boiled eggs and a plate of crisp fried fish. She should be arriving at any minute."

Ned nodded and went to open his chest. As it was his first council session, he must look presentable as the new Master of Laws. It would not do to show up in old boiled leather or a comfortable, yet shabby tunic. With a sigh, he reached for his usual set of clothes: dark trousers, a quilted tunic sewn on the breast with the white escutcheon embossed with a running grey direwolf and a pair of dark, high boots. He nodded to himself. Very comfortable.

After a swift change of clothes, Ned joined Ashara for breakfast. He absently drizzled a spoonful of golden honey onto his porridge and took a sip of cold milk. As he bit into a crisp fried fish, he felt ill. Every time a Stark goes south, he never returns, he thought worriedly. Here I am, in the centre of a snake pit. Back home, it is much simpler; hard, blunt truth compared to southron charades. Robert will never permit me to return to Winterfell now…I should not have involved myself with those Targaryens…

"Did you read the letter from your brother?" Ashara broke the silence.

Ned nodded, smiling. "Benjen is well. Our father's maester had died and his replacement arrived safely at Winterfell. Luwin…I think his name is. Maester Luwin. According to Benjen, Maester Luwin had even earnt his Valyrian steel link. Not many acolytes study magic and the occult these days. Benjen cannot praise Maester Luwin enough; he is a patient listener and gives helpful advice, according to this letter. I hope to see him one day when we go to Winterfell." If we ever leave for Winterfell. He was hit with a pang of regret. If it wasn't for his blasted honour, he would be on his way home with Ashara.

"Has he chosen a Northern bride yet?"

Ned shook his head. "In his letter, he stated that he was considering joining the Night's Watch. Why would he?" He felt a wave of sorrow rather than anger. "I need my brother. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. You are yet to be with child and Ben…he is the only other Stark left." Before Lyanna's abduction, there were many Starks; now…only Ned and Benjen.

Ashara patted his hand. "We will have children," she vowed. "Soon, Winterfell will be filled with a litter of children." Ned smiled a little. "Benjen is still thinking of joining," Ashara continued. "He is still young and the thought of marriage and siring children may not have occurred to him. It might soon enough."

"Hmm. What will you do today?" Ned changed the subject. "I will be trapped in a long day of arguing with other lords. What about you?"

"I suppose I will join the queen's entourage of ladies and spend the day with gossiping ladies and hours of sewing."

Ned chuckled as Ashara rolled her eyes. "You are a highborn lady! Surely a few hours of sewing is harmless!"

"It is boring. I spent most of my life running my brother's household in Starfall and now I am here…without a household to run. My good-sister had decided to devote most of her time in Sunspear rather than in Starfall. At first, I despised her for burdening me with the task of running a household, but later, I actually enjoyed it. Reviewing figures, arranging feasts for the rare guests, chatting to the cook and the master of horse…I enjoyed every moment of it. What am I to do but sew in the queen's company? I look forward to converse with Queen Catelyn, but there must be something else for me to do apart from sewing!" Her lowly opinion of sewing reminded Ned more and more of Lyanna.

"I must go," said Ned regretfully, swigging down the rest of his cup of milk and standing up. He hesitantly kissed Ashara on the cheek before rushing out, hoping he was not late. He strode into the council chamber, relieved when he saw only Stannis there, gazing at a carved screen from the Summer Isles placed in a corner of the room. "Lord Stannis," said Ned pleasantly. Stannis Baratheon turned stiffly and nodded. "Lord Stark," he returned. "I was beginning to wonder if His Grace made a jape regarding the small council meeting early in the morning."

"Did you just arrive, Lord Stannis?"

"No. I sat here for at least twenty minutes." He grinded his teeth. "At least His Grace chose his Master of Laws wisely," he remarked, his dark blue eyes gazing at Ned expressionlessly. "If you had not agreed, he would have most likely given that position to Tywin Lannister or that…that fat Tyrell." Stannis's lips drastically tightened as he spat his last words as if it was poison.

"Yes, well," said Ned uncomfortably, "I am the Master of Laws now."

"Hmmph. I hope thievery and rape will cease once you implement a number of good, strong laws with His Grace's permission."

"I do too."

"Ahh, I see I am not the first to arrive." The eunuch glided in, rubbing his soft, powdered hands together. Today, he had decided to wear rich damask robes of saffron yellow embroidered with swirls of green. "Lord Stannis, Lord Stark," he said, with an enigmatic smile. "Both of you are well I hope?"

Ned nodded cautiously. "I hope you are well too, Lord Varys."

Varys chuckled softly. "I slept quite well, Lord Stark – particularly with the notion you are our Master of Laws and no lord can break your…friendship with our good King Robert."

"Why should you care about Lord Stark's friendship with His Grace?" Stannis looked at him suspiciously.

"I value nothing but peace, Lord Stannis." Varys spread his hands. "Peace in the realm is all I desire. What of yourself, Lord Stannis? Perhaps…further praise for you valiant efforts in his war? The king's brotherly affection even?" He smiled mysteriously as Stannis scowled viciously. "And you, Lord Stark?" Varys's wily eyes glanced back at Ned. "What do you crave the most?" He studied him for a moment. "Mayhaps…an opportunity to return home to Winterfell?" He grinned as Ned's mouth dropped open with astonishment.

Ned scrambled to his seat and tried to occupy himself by studying the pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanking the door, their eyes of polished garnet smouldering in black marble faces. After what felt like a couple of hours, the other appointed councillors finally appeared. The ancient Grand Maester Pycelle shuffled in, his heavy maester's chains clinking quietly as he sat down on a tall chair at the foot of the table. He stroked his long snowy beard that ran down to his chest with his wiry fingers as he mumbled softly to himself. Following him was the King's Hand, Jon Arryn, who gave Ned a firm nod before seating himself on the chair at the right of the head of the table. Lastly, Robert himself stomped to his chair, Ser Barristan Selmy moving behind him like his silent shadow. Robert silenced the murmurs of "Your Grace," and grunted. "Let's get on with this, now shall we?" before reaching for his wine cup.

"Certainly, Your Grace," said Jon calmly. "All you are missing is a Master of the Coin. Have you selected one of yet, Your Grace?"

"Find a Lannister to fill the post," grumbled Robert. "What do they say? Tywin Lannister shits gold?"

"Lord Tywin may be offended by the position of Master of the Coin," Varys interjected. "He was the King's Hand during the reign of the Mad King, and to be given the seat of the Master of the Coin...he will not be pleased."

"Aye," agreed Stannis. "Lord Tywin is not a man you wish to anger."

"Speaking of Lannisters-" started Ned.

"No!" snapped Robert. "Ser Jaime Lannister will not be beheaded or sent to the fucking Wall!" He drained his cup of wine.

"Perhaps release him from his vows instead?" proposed Varys. "It will punish him for killing the Mad King and placate Lord Tywin – he always desired his son to be released from his Kingsguard vows."

"No!" said Ser Barristan, Ned and surprisingly Stannis, in unison. King Robert raised an eyebrow.

"A knight of the Kingsguard is sworn in for life!" protested Ser Barristan. "Ser Jaime Lannister cannot be released from his vows! He may have slew the Mad King, but he is still part of the Kingsguard!"

"He swore a vow," Ned pointed out. Stannis gave a rigid nod. "Your Grace, if you release him from his Kingsguard duties, you are allowing him to get away with the crime of kingslaying. Besides, would it not be more useful if you keep Ser Jaime close to you in case Tywin Lannister decides to rebel against you? I'd rather Ser Jaime Lannister remain a knight of the Kingsguard than the heir of Casterly Rock – he certainly does not deserve either option."

"What about Ser Kevan Lannister, Lord Tywin's brother?" suggested Jon, who had been silently in thought for the last minute. "He is a man Lord Tywin trusts, and is a Lannister."

"Fine," said Robert carelessly. "Send a letter to Tywin or tell him in person. I hope to hear nothing but good news from the Master of the Coin soon! Now that the matter is sorted, what next?"

"The Kingsguard," Barristan the Bold said at once. "Currently there are only two members – Ser Jaime and myself. For your protection, Your Grace, the other five spots must be filled."

Robert looked around at Ned and the other councillors. "Any suggestions? Any good recommendations at all?"

"Ser Balon Swann," grunted Stannis. "He is good with a lance, but better with a morningstar and an exceptional fighter with a bow. Ser Barristan, have you met or heard of him before? Both of you are from the Stormlands."

Barristan the Bold nodded approvingly. "Aye, Lord Stannis. I squired for his cousin Ser Manfred Swann in my youth. I…I also happened to rescue Lady Jeyne Swann and her septa from the Kingswood Brotherhood two years ago. Ser Balon will make a fine addition to the Kingsguard."

"What about Arys Oakheart?" Jon Arryn put forward. "He is courteous and a fair swordsman. He is a Reachman too – it will certainly appease the Reachmen for one of their own to be chosen as a knight of the Kingsguard. One of my men, Ser Mandon Moore, he is an extremely skilled warrior and will be a fine asset to the Kingsguard, I can assure you of that."

"Why not Ser Lyle Crakehall?" Varys suggested, rubbing his hands again. "I heard he is a good fighter, but his greatest quality is his strength. He is not called the Strongboar for naught." He chuckled quietly. "Ser Barristan, has the Blackfish responded to your offer yet? If I may be bold" – he tittered –"he is as famous as you and the Kingsguard needs another prominent war hero. The White Bull…the Sword in the Morning…Ser Barristan the Bold…the Kingslayer" – he giggle again –"well, now only Ser Barristan the Bold and the Kingslayer are alive and part of His Grace's Kingsguard. Why not the Blackfish? Ladies will swoon over songs of his valour as a Kingsguard knight." The Blackfish in white? An amusing sight no doubt about that.

"That will do for now," decided Robert, clearly bored of the discussion. "Ser Barristan, you will meet the knights mentioned and decide for yourself if they deserve the honour of being part of my Kingsguard. Ned! How do you find your married life? Do you find your wife pleasing?" Robert!

Another four pairs of eyes swivelled to Ned. "I…" said Ned, taken back. "I…I don't think that is a fitting topic of discussion, Your Grace."

"Nonsense!" Robert snickered. "Will there be a brood of little Starks trailing behind you in the future? I hear Dornish women are like bitches on heat when it comes to fucking." All the other councillors flushed red.

"She…" Ned swallowed. "She…I…"

Robert roared with laughter. "Lord Ned Stark lost for words! Ha!" He drank more wine and chortled.

"What of the Tyrells?" asked Stannis, unamused. "The Redwynes are sworn to them; the Redwyne fleet is powerful enough to challenge the royal fleet."

"Appease them with a royal marriage," advised Jon wisely. "Your Grace, even thought the Tyrells have bent the knee, they are still an influential House; too powerful to ignore. Your Grace, you have a younger brother, Lord Renly. Lord Tyrell has an infant daughter, as does Lord Redwyne. Offer a betrothal between Lord Renly and either the Tyrell girl or Redwyne babe. It will tell them Your Grace is keen on peace between the Iron Throne and the Reach, yet they were your former foes hence no royal marriage between a highborn lady of the Reach and any of your future sons."

Ned nodded in agreement. "Lord Tyrell should be grateful at the prospect of being good-father to His Grace's brother." Not that he deserves it.

"Very well," said Robert, who looked as if he was itching to move. "Jon, write a letter to Lord Tyrell with terms. I know I can trust you with the details of Renly's betrothal with Tyrell's infant daughter. Now that smoothes relations with the goddamn Reach, what of the Greyjoys and Lannisters? Those fucking Greyjoys will never agree to peace through marriage."

"Maybe accept one as part of the Kingsguard?" suggested Ser Barristan.

Robert snorted. "He will axe me in the back and be the new kingslayer. Those Ironborn cannot be trusted."

"Offer marriage anyway?" Jon pressed quizzically. "Lord Varys, Balon Greyjoy has a daughter, does he not? Why not wed her to Lord Stannis? Balon Greyjoy's good-brother, Lord Rodrik Harlaw, is an ardent reader; he will advocate the idea of peace to Lord Greyjoy."

The king barked with laughter as Stannis's already tightened lips stiffened. "A stag and a kraken in bed together," he sniggered. "Well! Brother, do you have it in you to fuck a kraken?"

"Leave them be," Ned said swiftly, before Stannis could respond. "There have been no word of discontentment from the Iron Islands; best we do nothing. Lord Balon Greyjoy is – from what I heard – a stubborn and quarrelsome man. He may think a match between his only daughter and Lord Stannis as a way of His Grace exerting more power over the Ironborn; something Balon will not take well at all. I suggest we leave the Ironborn alone…for now."

Robert nodded. "Very well." He rose and cracked his knuckles. "There is still time for a hunt," he declared. "Stannis! Will you join me this time? Perhaps you will find another injured goshawk to nurse." He guffawed, sauntering out of the council chamber with Ser Barristan striding behind him. Jon Arryn stood up and said to Ned, "I am pleased you agreed to be Robert's Master of Laws. There is no other man suited to that position than you. I hope to speak to you again before I leave for Dorne. Perhaps Lord Tully will invite you to my wedding with Lady Lysa Tully." He smiled and exited, no doubt to write the many letters Robert had instructed him to inscribe.

Stannis nodded at Ned and wordlessly left, followed shortly by Pycelle who muttered good day to Ned and shuffled out, leaving Ned alone with Varys. "I still have not thanked you yet, Lord Varys," said Ned hesitantly. "If it was-"

"No need, my lord Stark," the eunuch cut through smoothly. "As I said before, I value nothing more than peace in the Seven Kingdoms. How can the slightest bit of peace be achieved if you and the king are enemies? The North and the South must be unified, and what better than your friendship with His Grace? I did what had to be done for the good of the realm." He smiled at Ned. "Your honour had prevented you from committing a heinous atrocity and I found the means to cure that predicament. No thanks is needed, Lord Stark."

"Where did you find-"

"Do not worry about it, Lord Stark. What is done is done. Your honour is still unsullied and no one will ever find out. It will be…" He paused. "Our little secret, eh, Lord Stark?"

"Where did you-"

"Take him?" Varys smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you that Lord Stark. It will be in your best interests to forget all about it. The more you think of it, the more it will eat you alive." He placed his powdered hand on Ned's arm. "Go and dream of your future with Lady Stark," the eunuch advised. "The longer you dwell in the past…the easier picking you will be."


Out of interest for future chapters, should Sansa still be Ned's daughter but with the features of Ashara, or be either a daughter of Catelyn or Lysa to inherit the Tully features (or maybe even be Edmure's daughter)? As Ned is Master of Laws instead of the King's Hand and currently near the beginning of Robert's reign, I thought it would be interesting to write what a council session would be at that time. I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter! :)