He named her Lyanna.

Robert named her Lyanna.

Ned wanted naught more than to disappear from the staring eyes of the lords and ladies. Why Robert? What in the old gods and new could've possibly possessed you to name your firstborn daughter after your former betrothed…and the lady you launched a war over. Everywhere Ned looked and turned, he felt accusing Tully eyes bore deeply into him like the carved eyes of Winterfell's heart tree. If it was not Queen Catelyn's usually warm blue eyes glowering at him, it would be Hoster Tully's icy blue ones…or the Blackfish's…or Ser Edmure Tully's.

After his second cup of ale, Ned stood up. The celebratory feast was at its peak and Ned went to seek out his former foster father. Unfortunately, Jon Arryn was engrossed in a serious discussion of sorts with the Lord of Riverrun. "Lord Tully," said Jon, catching a glimpse of Ned lingering tentatively in front of him, "may we continue this conversation at a later time? I cannot help but notice that ah, your daughter seems lonely. Perhaps a dance will remedy it?"

Hoster nodded. "As you wish, my Lord Hand." He gave Ned a cool nod before making his way to Catelyn's side. Jon gestured for Ned to sit. "I believe you want a word with me, Ned?"

Ned sat down and nodded. "Aye. It is about…Robert."

The old Lord of the Eyrie glanced around cautiously before he said quietly. "I see. What is troubling you about our king?"

"Robert…Robert named her Lyanna. He named his daughter with Catelyn Tully Lyanna. Why on earth would he do that? I know Robert can be rash at times, but surely even he was aware of the trouble it would cause!" Ned took a deep breath as he ranted on. "If that wasn't bad enough, he betrothed Lyanna-" it still pained him to say his late sister's name "-to my Robb without even a word of warning! I had no say in the matter!"

Jon looked around warily once more. "Robert was foolish," he admitted softly, his once blue eyes now cloudy with worry. "For the good of the realm, I spent a good part of the day placating Lord Tully. I told him Robert was drunk when he named his daughter after uh, your late sister. I assured him the queen was kind enough to agree willingly to it, but I doubt he believed me. However, Lord Tully seemed to accept it reluctantly enough…on the few conditions – well, those were between him and me." He chuckled a little before he eyed at Ned gravely. "As our king, Robert has honoured you as his greatest friend through betrothing his only child – currently – to your heir."

"I am aware of that-"

"No. You are thinking recklessly. Where is the Ned I know? The Ned who does not rush into matters without weighing out the advantages and hindrances and even the possibly outcome?"

Jon always talks sense to me. He was right. Ned had been too shocked to even think about the benefits of the royal match. Even he, Ned, had to concede it was a tremendous honour for his House. He remembered from his history books and scrolls of the Pact of Ice and Fire, made between his ancestor Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon on behalf of his Targaryen mother Rhaenyra during the bloody Dance of the Dragons. One of the conditions for Stark support was for a royal princess to wed into House Stark. The marriage never materialised. Now was an opportunity for another princess, one equally royal though bearing the name Baratheon, to be married into House Stark. Knowing Robert, he would be determined for the marriage to proceed once both the infant princess and little Robb are of marriageable age.

"Aye," said Ned slowly. "It is more than a good match. It is a grand match for House Stark. I doubt the Northern lords will complain about it. With such a close connection to the king…"

Jon nodded with a faint knowing smile. "He always considered you a brother; you will be related to him through marriage in a matter of time. I doubt Robert was aware of the political security the Stark-Baratheon betrothal brought, but I quite approve of it. It was one of the cleverest moves Robert made – even though he did not know of it."

"Oh?"

"You are an honest man Ned, and one of honour. Who would be king if Robert would die young and without a son?"

Ned said instantly. "Stannis would be king."

"Aye. Stannis is a just man and an experienced warrior, but not every great lord will want a king like him. Stannis is one who remembers one's enemy – he'll never forget the siege at Storm's End…and the Tyrells are aware of it. Imagine the years of war and bloodshed if the princess is betrothed to a Tyrell." Jon Arryn shuddered. "The Tyrells thirst for power…"

"And what better way than through a child queen."

"Aye. With the princess betrothed to a Stark, both she and Stannis are safe and the possibility of a civil war subdued."

"I thought the Lannisters are the most dangerous. Apparently the golden roses of Highgarden are more deadly."

"As are all the Great Houses. Some may say you are their greatest threat as the king's closest friend. Do you plan to wed your future children to Northern lords as your predecessors did or to southron lords?"

"I will wed them to lords best suited for the North. Perhaps it will be to a few southron lords, maybe to a Northern lord or lady."

Jon nodded. "Is Lady Stark well?"

"Ashara is in blooming health. I count myself quite fortunate to have wedded such a lovely woman. It was all thanks to you of course. I'll be more than content if Ashara bears me a litter of daughters – she had already given me one fine son. Robb will not be raised in a coddling environment, mind you. My natural son Jon already shares a nursery with him. Ere long before they begin their lessons. I also plan to bring in a ward or two, mostly likely sons of my bannermen. How is your lady wife, Jon? I hear she is now in the Eyrie."

"The right place for her, Ned. I will not lie, our marriage is loveless. I try to be affectionate to Lysa, but she hates me. I don't blame her." He sighed. "I am an old man – old enough to be her grandfather. Here at court…it is no place for a sweet daughter of Riverrun. Lysa will be happier in the Eyrie. I hope she will love the Eyrie as much as we do. I need an heir, Ned. You are fortunate your lady wife had begotten you a son with ease. Lysa…"

"I heard she had two miscarriages. My condolences."

"My first wife Jeyne, died giving birth to a stillborn daughter. A miscarriage or two still brings me hope Lysa can bring to term a child. Even if she gives me one and it is a daughter, I will be content."

"Not many lords will be pleased with a single daughter, Jon. Randyll Tarly has a son and daughter and his wife is with child again. We can both guess Lord Tarly desires another son. If he had the fertileness of House Frey…no one in their right mind would want to cross him."

Jon laughed. "Indeed. I won't be surprised if Lord Tarly dreams to be general of his own army…an army of his sons and descendants."

Ned shuddered.

"My lords." Ashara appeared in front of him and Jon. "My apologies if I have disturbed your discussion. My lord Arryn, may I take my husband for a dance or two? All Lord Redwyne would speak about was wine and his mother, oh and his vessels. I grew terribly bored." She smiled at Jon.

"Of course Lady Stark." Jon nodded and smiled back at her. He looked at Ned and said, "I suppose we shall speak again soon? I will not keep you detained here from your sweet wife." Ned nodded and rose. Taking Ashara's hand, they went to the dance floor a mere second before the band of minstrels struck the first note of the next song.

"Sweet?" Ashara hissed in Ned's ear as he spun her around. "What in the name of the Seven have you told Lord Arryn about me?"

"Nothing…much?"

Ashara rolled her eyes. "A likely story, Ned. Look over there." She discreetly nodded at the Blackfish dancing with a beautiful woman. "Do you see her? She is Lady Bethany Rowan…formerly Lady Bethany Redwyne. Is she not comely and fair? She was to wed the Blackfish once, or so I've heard." She hissed with pain as Ned accidently stepped on her foot in his haste to glimpse the lady the Blackfish had rejected about twenty six years ago. Ashara was right. Lady Bethany Rowan was a beautiful woman. Even after birthing three children, Ned noticed she had maintained a rosy blush of youth in her ivory cheeks. "She is indeed an attractive lady," Ned agreed, careful not to step on Ashara's foot again.

"She is the Queen of Thorns' cousin," Ashara informed him. "Bethany's father is Olenna Tyrell's uncle. It would've been an excellent match for Ser Brynden if he had accepted it."

"Indeed. I wonder why our tourney champion chose to dance with her."

"Perhaps he finally found her desirable now that both he and Bethany can no longer wed each other? I must say, how did you know Barristan the Bold would lose against Ser Brynden? I'm glad you advised me to wager against Barristan; all thanks to you, I am now a little over a hundred dragons richer after winning that wager…against the king. I truly thought we would be celebrating Ser Barristan's victory tonight! The queen must be delighted in her uncle's grand victory. Was it not charming when the Blackfish crowned Catelyn his Queen of Love and Beauty with a wreath of roses as black as obsidian. No one can doubt his affection for his dear niece now!" She laughed. "Not that there were any doubt before!"

"Where did the Blackfish find black roses? I heard they're even rarer than blue winter roses. I didn't think he had the time to go around picking black roses from who knows where."

Ashara shrugged. "It was quite a pretty wreath."

"Aye…did you see a toy dragon in the nursery before we left?"

She looked at him, astonished at the change of subject. She frowned slightly as she spun around again. "Yes," she said, puzzled. "I was too preoccupied to think much of it back then, but now…"

Ned nodded. "Something strange is afoot," he agreed. "Who else could possibly know about Daenerys? All the servants are loyal to Winterfell and if they caught a scent of her true heritage, they would not have uttered a word, except perhaps to warn me of the danger of harbouring a…certain person out of the goodness of their hearts. Who would send a stuffed dragon?"

"Did you examine it?"

"A little before we set out for King's Landing. It was made from fine materials and onyxes were sewn into it as eyes. Someone rich must have given it – or more like smuggled it – to Daenerys. I suspect it is Varys."

"Why would Varys be interested in Dany's welfare? What if the dragon wasn't sent for Daenerys, but for Jon?"

Ned had not considered that. The last thing he wanted to think of was Jon and his Targaryen blood. "No one knows."

"Except you…and me."

"And Howland Reed."

"I doubt your crannogman friend would blab about a matter like this."

"Indeed. Howland always knew how to keep a secret. I wish he would visit us at Winterfell more often, but these days he hardly ventures out from Greywater Watch at all…according to riders and the rare crannogmen I speak to. There must be an explanation for all this, but I trust Howland and believe he will visit when he is ready. What do you think we should do about the dragon? I hope the other servants have not noticed it yet."

"We need to tell Daenerys and Jon of their ancestry one day."

"Yes, but when they are children? As long as Robert Baratheon is king on the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms will continue singing the horrors of the reigns of the Targaryen kings. They will cry out the abomination of incest and the Mad King will remain in everyone's mind. Jon and Daenerys will be ashamed of their heritage and will hate themselves. No, we will not tell them until they are able to understand the world is a cruel place."

"Will they ever be ready to hear the truth?"

"They have to know one day and I will decide when. Believe me Ashara, I have no desire to break their hearts."

Ashara nodded as the dance ended. "Hearts will break eventually." Before Ned could respond, the Kingslayer and his twin Cersei appeared in front of them, both flushed, no doubt from hours of dancing.

"Lord Stark," acknowledged the Kingslayer, a smirk lingering on his lips. "May I have your permission to dance with the lovely Lady Stark?"

No. "Of course," answered Ned, his strained smile vanishing as he watched Ser Jaime kiss Ashara's hand. "Lady Cersei, may I have this dance?" He didn't want to dance a minute longer than needed but with Cersei Lannister standing in front of him, it would be rude if he did not ask her to dance.

"I will be honoured." Cersei smiled a little and took his hand.

"My congratulations on your betrothal to Lord Stannis," said Ned, spinning her around as the musician began the next song. "You must be…excited. It is said that your wedding will be one of the grandest in the history of weddings – next to the king and queen's of course."

Cersei laughed lightly with a hint of…sarcasm? "My father will not spare any expenses for my wedding," she replied. "I am his sole daughter after all, and Lord Stannis is the king's brother. A grand wedding is expected, Lord Stark. Will you and Lady Stark attend?"

"Of course. It is expected of us. It will be held at Storm's End, my lady?"

"Yes, Lord Stark. My lord betrothed is a man of traditions and he insisted for it

to be at Storm's End rather than here. I would prefer if we wed at Casterly Rock, but of course that is out of the question."

"I'm certain you will look beautiful, Lady Cersei."

"Thank you Lord Stark. Lady Stark looks lovely tonight."

Ned nodded thanks. "As do you my lady." Luckily it was a short dance. Once it ended, he dipped his head and escaped back to his seat as Ashara exchanged Ser Jaime as a dance partner for the bumbling Mace Tyrell. Ned sipped a cup of light wine, his gaze settling upon Queen Catelyn. She seemed content. I hope she will not think me responsible for her daughter's name. As if sensing his stare, Catelyn looked at him and motioned for him to join her.

"Your Grace." Ned stood hesitantly before her until she gestured for him to sit in her father's empty chair. His uncertainty doubled as Catelyn gave him a warm smile and asked a servant to pour him a goblet of ale. "I think you will appreciate a cup of ale more than wine," said Catelyn kindly.

"I do, Your Grace." Ned pretended to drink as she watched. Does Catelyn Tully have enough strength to poison me? Why would she anyway? Ned put the cup back down. "You wish to speak to me, Your Grace?"

"Why else would I summon you, Lord Stark? I have noticed my father's rather hostile glares at you. My uncle the Blackfish and my brother Ser Edmure had also both followed his lead, which is odd, as my uncle dislikes taking orders from my father – unless it was on the battlefield. It may sound strange to you Lord Stark, but I do not bear a grudge of any sort against you…even though the entire world may think I do due to my daughter's name. I doubt you will surprised if I tell you Robert chose it and would not change it no matter how hard I plead or cry. It was in my best interest to agree with his choice."

"That was honourable of you, Your Grace."

"It wasn't honour, Lord Stark. It was duty. Besides, Lyanna is a lovely name – Northern too. Giving my daughter a Northern name will reinforce our alliance, do you not agree Lord Stark?"

"I am most honoured the king chose to honour my sister by giving your eldest daughter her name. I am very grateful." That was what Robert Baratheon would want to hear. Anything but that, he would dismiss with a scornful snort. It would have been a wiser decision to give his children Baratheon names. Ned had been so certain Robert would name his daughter Cassana…"I realise your father has a number of good reasons why to declare me his enemy Your Grace," ventured Ned quietly. "It was natural for him to think I was responsible for naming his infant granddaughter as my late-"

Catelyn shook her head. "Please, Lord Stark. Do not dwell on the matter of my daughter's name. My daughter is Princess Lyanna Baratheon and she will retain that name till her death."

"My apologies, Your Grace."

"Be wary of my father, Lord Stark. He will believe the naming problem a smear against House Tully's honour until he is satisfied or placated. I often thought him as honourable as you and Lord Arryn, but after I married…I learnt he was not as honourable as I believed."

"Lord Tully is an honourable man, Your Grace."

Catelyn smiled. "That is very kind of you to say Lord Stark." She adjusted her wreath of black roses on her head before clapping politely as the dance ended. "I see Lady Stark has returned to her seat," she remarked. "She may be wondering where you have gone. You should return to her. Forgive me Lord Stark, but I feel a little tired. If Robert inquires where I am, tell him I have retired."

Ned nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace." He dipped his head and retreated to his old seat as Catelyn gracefully rose and left.

"What did the queen want with you?" asked Ashara curiously.

"Nothing much," said Ned distractedly. Before Ashara could question him any further, Ser Barristan approached and asked Ashara to dance. Ned had never felt any happier than to be left to his thoughts.


After the council session ended, Ned left for the Red Keep's godswood. It was not as comforting as Winterfell's, but a godswood was better than no godswood. With absolutely no interest in remaining in the south for long durations, Ned had resigned the position of Master of Laws fully to an astonished Hoster Tully.

The Lord of Riverrun does not know my intentions at all, thought Ned, staring at the great oak heart tree. I have no desire to be part of the small council as the Master of Laws or serve as a mere advisor. Lord Tully is more than welcome to be the Master of Laws until he is weary of it or longs to return home. Speaking of home, Ned grew concerned at the virtually unoccupied Winterfell. The little ones were still there under the care of Maester Luwin and faithful servants, but what if a Northern lord was to attack? A Northern lord from a House with a history of rebelling against Stark liege lords? A Northern lord like the Leech Lord himself, the icy Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort.

The more Ned thought about it, the more he feared for Winterfell. Lord Roose had been loyal till now – one of his most trusted generals in fact. However, his wife was a Ryswell…and Lady Dustin's sister. With Ryswell and Dustin support, Roose had the time and men to besiege Winterfell. House Bolton's reputation of flaying men did not help Ned's worry. How long will Maester Luwin and his men hold out against Roose with that in their minds?

The Boltons must be tied to House Stark closer than ever. As Ned stared at the swaying leaves, an idea occurred to him. He hurried to his chambers and grabbed a quill and parchment. Lord Bolton, he began to write. For the good of the North and your loyal services to House Stark during Robert's rebellion, I wish to foster your son Domeric at Winterfell…


Here is the next chapter as I promised in the last author's note :) Just letting you know now that the next chapter will be in 286 AC. Do any of you know any good Stark names (apart from the names of Ned's children in the books)? I would usually snoop at historical Starks on the .org site, but lately it's been very dodgy...