Her skirts still powdered with flour from an accident in the kitchens, Ashara bustled in and out of the Great Hall to prepare for the royal visit. Since dawn, she had hurried from the highest tower to the kitchens in Winterfell to ensure utter perfection for the arrival of the king and queen and their retinues.
Over a month ago, Catelyn had written to Ashara, informing her that the royal court will visit Winterfell shortly to renew the betrothal between Robb and the Princess Lyanna. Most likely some idea of Robert's. Ashara was excited to see the queen again, and her future good-daughter, but the idea of readying chambers and food and drink for the entire court!
Riders from House Cerwyn had reported that their lord was housing the royal party at his castle for the night and they would make their way to Winterfell over the next two days. Rushing across through the Great Hall again, Ashara skidded to a halt as she caught a glimpse of Maester Luwin shuffling out.
"Maester Luwin!" she called, hitching up her skirts and running to him. "Have you heard? The Lannisters will be coming here too!"
The maester stopped and slowly nodded. "Well that will be expected, my lady. Ser Jaime Lannister is a knight of the Kingsguard and Lady Cersei Lannister is the king's good-sister."
"No, it is not them. It is their brother Tyrion, the Imp. He will be here too."
Maester Luwin's eyebrows rose. "Lord Tyrion will be here too?"
"It appears so. From what I heard, Lord Tyrion is an avid reader; perhaps you could show him the library after he settles in and place a couple more candles in his chambers? I want our guests comfortable and happy in Winterfell."
"Of course my lady. What of his ah, love of wine?"
Ashara thought for a moment. "Discreetly put a bottle of it near the candles in his rooms," she advised. "What Lord Tyrion does in his chambers is his business – even if he is our guest." The Imp was notorious for his short stature, love of the bottle…and tumbling with whores and prostitutes. She hoped Tyrion would have the decency not to bring a whore into Winterfell's rooms.
"Very well my lady. It will be done. Here is a letter for you, my lady. I received it only a few minutes ago." Maester Luwin handed her a scroll and nodded before leaving to put another candle or two in one of the guest chambers. Ashara settled down on one of the benches in front of a trestle table and opened it. She smiled as she saw it was from Allyria. The last time Ashara saw her little sister at Starfall, Allyria had been a girl of fourteen, newly betrothed to Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven, a lord from the Stormlands. Most likely part of the betrothal contract, Lord Dondarrion had taken in their nephew Edric Dayne, as page. It was merely a year since he was elevated to the position of Lord Beric's squire. Without another thought, Ashara began to read.
Dearest Ashara,
It had been quite some time since I last heard from you. Have matters at Winterfell kept you from writing letters more frequently? Unfortunately I must convey terrible news: our brother is dead. There was a tourney in Sunspear and he participated in the melee. He fought well…until he was up against the Red Viper.
By the time you receive this letter, our brother would be long buried in the crypts of Starfall. Please come and visit Starfall for a short time; we need you. Edric is still a boy and squire to Lord Beric. He cannot return to Starfall until he has been knighted. I am now old enough to be a wife and I fear it will not be long before Lord Beric Dondarrion claims me for our wedding. I am happy with Lord Beric as my future husband and he too is fond of me. While I look forward to being his wife and the Lady of Blackhaven, I dread the idea of leaving Starfall empty without a Dayne. I know you are now a Stark, but you are also a Dayne. Will it be possible if you come and run Starfall for a few months?
Another matter had occurred. After our brother's death, Prince Doran sent his condolences and offered his cousin, Lady Matysse Martell as the future wife of Edric. I told him I must consult with you and he gave me a few months to consider it – quite generous of him too. Lady Matysse is a year younger than Edric and has Yronwood blood in her veins through her mother. I think the match between Edric and Lady Matysse Martell would be beneficial for our House, but I will leave the final decision up to you. I would be delighted if you can come to Starfall and discuss it in person with me, but a letter would be just as good. I hope to hear from you soon, dear sister.
Your sister,
Allyria.
Ashara sighed, rubbing her forehead with worry. It was pleasant to hear from Allyria again, but she sensed there was more political trouble looming ominously in Dorne. Perhaps once the royal party departs, it would be time to prepare for a trip down to Starfall.
Folding the parchment swiftly, Ashara resumed her earlier tasks of preparing and supervising. She headed to Robert and Catelyn's guest rooms for another last minute inspection. As she turned the corner to the corridor, she caught sight of a small, skinny child creeping away stealthily.
"Arya!"
The child froze, guilt and alarm painted on her long face. Ashara hurried to her daughter and looked at her sternly. "Arya Stark!" Ashara said, crossing her arms and blocking her way. "What in the name of the Seven are you doing?"
The nine year old Arya muttered, "Nothing." Ashara stared at her right in the eye and arched an eyebrow. "Were you rude to Septa Mordane again?"
Arya's grey eyes shifted to the ground as she mumbled, "No." Ashara inspected her from head to toe. Her brown hair coiled in a tiny bun was a tangled mess and closely resembled a bird's nest. How Arya even tied it in a bun was a miracle. She was the skinniest and smallest of Ashara's children, but the most spirited and the most boyish of her three daughters. Admittedly, Lyarra, Arya and Gwenysse were all lively girls, but Arya was more…temperamental.
"Arya." Ashara gave Arya a warning glare.
"I did nothing wrong!" her stubborn daughter exclaimed. She suddenly looked sheepish. "I was bored and escaped," she said in a rush.
Ashara frowned. "What?"
"I was bored and escaped!" Arya repeated loudly. She pouted. "Oh, why can't I go and fight with my brothers? I'm tired of all these pointless lessons! What's the use of sewing if we are attacked by bandits on the kingsroad? How will singing or dancing save us from death?"
Ashara's frown deepened. "You have already missed too many lessons. I know you do not want to be a lady, but you still have to learn." She pushed her towards the schoolroom. "Go back and apologise to Septa Mordane."
"You let Bran climb the walls."
"I do not let him climb the walls, Arya." Ashara sighed. Now was not the time to deal with Arya…"Go," she said wearily. Arya's eyes widened in surprise. "Just go," Ashara said, waving her hand dismissively. "Once the royal party leaves and matters return to their normal state, we'll have a serious talk. Before supper, you will apologise to Septa Mordane and something will be done for you to catch up on your lessons. Where's Lyarra?"
"Still in the schoolroom. Dany's with her too." Before Ashara could ask or say anything else, Arya darted away like a rabbit. Muttering to herself, Ashara went to the schoolroom. Technically it was more a gathering room or something of the sort. Sitting on comfortable chairs in a circle with their embroidery and sewing were her eldest daughter Lyarra, Daenerys Sand and a few of their companions including Vayon Poole's daughter Jeyne, and Ser Rodrik Cassel's little girl, Beth, who was more around Arya's age than Lyarra's. Presiding over them were their tutor Septa Mordane, a bony-faced and sharp-eyed woman.
"My lady," said the septa, dipping her head when she noticed Ashara lingering near the door. "May I be of assistance?" Her hawk-like eyes swept over the girls present and her lips tightened. "I'm afraid Lady Arya had disappeared again," she said with an exasperated sigh.
"I am not surprised." Ashara shook her head with a small laugh. She pitied the septa for her duties in transforming Arya into a highborn lady. It was proving to be a task as difficult as keeping Daenerys's heritage a secret. The more Daenerys bloomed into a beautiful maiden, the higher the chance someone would discover her as a Targaryen. "Lyarra, Daenerys." She beckoned for her daughter and ward to follow her. Both girls rose gracefully and obeyed.
As they approached, Ashara could not help but look at them with satisfaction. Despite them sharing the same pretty purple eyes, the two girls were as different as night and day: Lyarra had inherited her locks of long, cascading dark hair and high cheekbones; Daenerys had lustrous tresses of silver-blonde hair. Her hair is of a slightly lighter shade for a bastard Dayne, thought Ashara uneasily. She had seen her nephew Edric, and he had pale blond hair – a different colour, but to an unsuspecting watcher, both were Daynes.
"Lady mother." Lyarra flashed a brilliant smile at Ashara. "I hope you have not asked us to go Arya hunting again."
"You noticed?" Ashara could not help but ask. "Why did you not tell your septa about it? How many times had Arya ran off?"
"It was the septa's duty to watch over all of us," Lyarra answered, "not fawn over my sewing as if it was the best in the world." She snorted. "It most certainly was not the best in the world. I understood Arya's need to take some time off so I said nothing. She probably wanted more time with Jon."
"What of you?" Ashara looked at Daenerys.
"I was not listening to Septa Mordane," Dany admitted guiltily. "I was thinking of…other stuff. My apologies, my lady." She blushed.
Ashara nodded. "I need the two of you to help as escorts when the royal family arrives with their noble retinue. Lyarra, I want you to play the harp and sing for us during the feast. You will also entertain and show Melia Tully and the Princess Lyanna around, only the later if Robb is sparring or training with the princes. As for you Daenerys, you will help the ladies of the court find their rooms. Oh, and if you see Arya attempting to sneak out somewhere, please prevent it and lock her in her room and tell me at once."
Both girls stared at her. "Do you really mean it?" Lyarra managed to say, her haunting purple eyes widening.
"Yes. Where are your brothers?"
"Still…still sparring in the courtyard I think."
Is that all boys do these days? Fight? Ashara nodded and with a swift swish of her skirts, she headed to the courtyard. On the way, she paused as she heard the faint clashing and shouting. Ashara peered out the closest window and smiled as she saw the boys spar with each other.
Her heart swelled with pride as she watched Robb knock Jon to the ground in triumph. Of course she loved Jon as if he was her own son, but Robb was her first son and always had a special place in her heart. Robb was not as tall as Jon and of a slightly stocky build; his violet eyes glistened with concentration as he pushed a strand of thick dark hair away, Jon rolling away from him before agilely rising and launching a new blow.
Elsewhere – still under the sharp gaze of Ser Rodrik Cassel – the Bolton heir adjusted his grip on his practice sword and moved slowly, surrounded by his two opponents: Waymar Royce and Theon Greyjoy. Ashara could not help but dislike both Waymar and Theon due to the former's overbearing conceit and the latter's cocky and vain attitude. However, she did feel slight pity for Theon; he was more a hostage than ward in Winterfell thanks to his father's foolish and rash decision to rebel against the Iron Throne nine years ago. If Robert Baratheon thought Ned could make a Stark out of Theon Greyjoy, he was wrong – not that Ned had not tried. Theon had been a good boy when he first arrived at Winterfell, but after a trip to town…he changed, and not for the better.
Unable to tug herself away from the sight, Ashara watched as Domeric knock both Waymar and Theon to the ground easily. I am glad Lyarra will wed him, she thought, nodding slightly with approval. Though he may have ancestors who had flayed innocent victims and prisoners alike, Domeric is an honourable and caring young man. I will be happy to call him my dear good-son. She grimaced as her eyes moved back to Theon. She suspected he too fancied himself a possible suitor for Lyarra if he pleased Ned. What terrified her more was when Theon and Waymar both stared at Daenerys with lustful glints.
They would not dare sleep with the mighty Lord of Winterfell's daughter, but a bastard? Would they despoil her? The sooner Waymar Royce left for the Wall, the better. It was astonishing how a son of the great Bronze Yohn Royce could harbour such…such horrid thoughts and intentions.
"Ashara? What are you doing here?"
Ashara turned around and saw Ned staring at her, puzzled. "I thought you had preparations to deal with?"
"I was distracted," she replied, smiling at him. "How can you not be distracted by our son and your wards outside?"
Ned smiled. "Robb fought well. I saw him fight when I came up here."
"Jon is a fair swordsman too. Domeric also does remarkably well – he had just defeated both Waymar and Theon singlehandedly. Roose Bolton should be proud of his son. When do you think Waymar will leave for the Wall? He is no longer a young boy who needs to settle in the North."
"Aye. Benjen will be visiting shortly – perhaps even during the royal stay – and he will take Waymar and any other volunteers back to the Wall." He darkened. "I do not like the looks he is sending our daughters…and Daenerys. I am astonished that Lord Royce has a son like him. It seems all my efforts to make him good and honourable was a waste of my time."
"Do not think that, Ned. You have tried your best and Waymar did not listen to you." Neither did Theon by the looks of it. "The sooner Waymar leaves Winterfell, the better." Ned nodded in agreement. "He is also a terrible influence on Theon," Ashara went on. "We should not have allowed them to go to winter town or any other town. I am fairly certain they go to the tavern or find a whore…or both. Will Robert ever allow Theon to leave?"
Ned shrugged, troubled. "Robert will always remember the Greyjoy Rebellion as one of his finest victories…and he does not trust the Greyjoys. I suspect only when Balon dies will Theon be allowed to return home."
"He is a bad influence on our younger children."
"In what way? Does he encourage Bran to miss his lessons? Does he attempt to convince Robb and Jon to conquer more girls?"
"I do not know. A ward he may be, but I still do not trust him."
"Ashara, Theon had been our ward for nine years. He was educated alongside our own children, he was taught swordplay with our own and he considers Robb a brother. Perhaps when the time comes, I will find a Northern bride for him – she will not be one of our daughters."
Ashara sighed with relief. "Thank the gods."
"Was that all you were concerned about, Ashara?" Ned was bemused. "I won't be able to sleep well if I wedded one of our daughters to an Ironborn. However, I do not want one of my lords burdened with that fear either. I will watch Theon a little more with care."
"From what I heard, a Northerner had never wedded an Ironborn."
"A Dornish lady hadn't married a Northerner before either." Ashara could not help but laugh. "I suppose there is a first for everything," she admitted. "Is there enough guest chambers for all the Northern lords as well? I'm already uncertain of housing all the members of the court and the royal family here. The Northern lords will want to attend the feast would they not? With them will be their wives and children and servants. There may be enough room for them in the Great Hall for the feast, but I doubt there is enough chambers to house them here." She did not add that their children and wards were already obliged to share rooms. They shared bedchambers before – their two younger children Gwenysse and Arthur were still in the nursery with baby Rickon – but were all given individual rooms at one stage, even eight year old Bran.
"They can stay at Castle Cerwyn," said Ned thoughtfully. "It's only half a day's ride from Winterfell – without a retinue that is. I'm sure Lord Cerwyn would not mind hosting other lords in his castle for a short time. I will ask Maester Luwin to send him a raven."
"When will you announce Lyarra and Domeric's betrothal? Domeric Bolton is already a young man and it would not be long before Lyarra flowers. Of course we need Lord Bolton's agreement, but he would be a fool to refuse."
"Soon. Perhaps on Lyarra's twelfth name day. The southron lords will not care for the significance of a betrothal between Lyarra and Domeric." He stopped and said quietly. "I don't want Lyarra to leave Winterfell."
Ashara gave him a puzzled look. "A mother's fear is her daughters leaving for their husbands' homes."
"I heard rumours of a bastard in the Dreadfort…Roose Bolton's bastard. The bastard had spent more time in the Dreadfort than Domeric ever had. What if a tragedy occurred there? These are the Boltons we are speaking of."
"He is still a bastard. Bastards have no claim to their fathers' titles and lands, you know that Ned." A flash of guilt appeared as she thought of Jon Snow. "Lyarra will be safe in the Dreadfort."
"As long as Roose Bolton or Domeric are there."
"We cannot keep them here forever." Ashara squeezed Ned's hand. "One day Lyarra might even go to King's Landing. She and Lyanna Baratheon had been in contact with each other for many years and the princess may want Lyarra to visit King's Landing once in a while."
Ned shuddered. "I despise King's Landing. I hope never to go there again." He considered it for a moment. "Well, Robert would expect us there for the tourney of his next name day I suppose. Perhaps the queen's too. And the crown prince's. They sent Robb a sword encrusted with jewels as a gift for his latest name day. A very kind and generous gesture. Robert and Catelyn had been sending Robb gifts on his name day since his was born." He smiled.
"They probably think of him as their son already."
"He will be soon enough when he weds Lyanna." She sighed. "Our children are growing up," she said sadly. "One day they were tiny babes like Rickon and the next they are betrothed and about to marry. Alas, that is the way of life. However, I cannot imagine Arya meekly submitting to a betrothal. We would probably have to drag her kicking and screaming to the sept or godswood. I already feel sorry for her future husband."
"Aye." Ned chuckled. "Arya will always be Arya. No matter how many dresses you force on her or make her attend sewing lessons, she will never change."
I've been pretty sick for the last few days (and still am sadly) so I'm a little behind in writing. In the last chapter, I know I mentioned that Stannis had 3 sons and only named 2 as the third son hadn't actually been mentioned yet.
Ned and Ashara's children: Robb (fourteen), Lyarra (eleven), Arya (nine), Brandon 'Bran' (eight), Gwenysse (five), Arthur (three), Rickon (newborn) + Jon Snow (fifteen)
Ned and Ashara's wards: Daenerys Sand (fifteen), Domeric Bolton (seventeen), Waymar Royce (eighteen), Theon Greyjoy (eighteen)
