Joy and laughter led Ned to the Eyrie; sadness and silence took him home. In a normal situation, Ned would be delighted to return to Winterfell. This time it was not a cause to rejoice.

"Will Bran be alright?" Arya's voice broke the mantle of silence.

"He'll be safe." Ned glanced at Ashara who had answered. Ashara stared ahead, unable to meet his eye. "Unless the Dornish or this Aegon Targaryen have two or three dragons with them," Ashara continued, "they wouldn't be foolish enough to march to the Vale and attack. Everyone knows the Eyrie is impregnable."

"I'm surprised you didn't insist for me to stay there Mother," commented Arya, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ned looked at her. "Winterfell is safe too, Arya. We did not want to press upon Lady Arryn's hospitality either. Did you wish to stay with Bran?"

"He is my brother," said Arya hesitantly, with no trace of mockery in her voice at this point. "It feels wrong of us leaving him there. What if Lady Arryn forgets to have the maester inspect him? She isn't exactly reasonable, is she?"

"Arya!" Unease settled within Ned as the barge slowly drew closer to a pier at White Harbour. Though he admonished Arya for her rudeness, he could not help but dwell on the matter. What Arya uttered, bore seeds of truth. Lady Lysa Arryn was at times a hysterical woman and incapable of thinking of other people except her own children. However, it was almost impossible to bring Bran back home to Winterfell if he was to have a full recovery.

The barge came to a stop and the other northerners present on the deck began to descend from the ship and onto the dock. Ned followed. Initially he planned to ride to Winterfell, but as travelling by sea was considerably faster, he decided the journey home would be by barge. Ashara did not complain to the chance of plans, but Arya looked slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be able to ride her horse for the majority of the journey.

"How long do you plan for us to stay here?" said Ashara softly.

"Not long," Ned murmured back. His eyes slid to Lady Wylla Manderly who'd drawn Arya into an animated discussion. "I rather we leave in the afternoon but I am certain Lord Manderly will insist upon hosting us in New Castle for a day and a night, if not two. As Lord Manderly is one of my most powerful bannermen, it'll be of a great discourtesy if we reject his offer – especially when I plan to summon a host of soldiers to march south. If not for the wildling war, the lords may be of a more tolerate nature, but as they have already lost men in that particular war…" He shook his head. "My bannermen will grumble. They are loyal, but proud. They will not want to fight a southron war at a time like this."

"Lyarra is in danger. It's their duty to help save their liege lord's daughter."

Their liege lord's daughter who is half-Dornish. "What of House Dayne?" He had rarely mentioned Ashara's House after their wedding. "Will your nephew fight on the Dornish side or on the side of King Orys?"

Ashara shrugged. "Edric is still squiring for my good-brother Lord Dondarrion. Under Lord Dondarrion's influence, he'd probably send troops in the name of our king – King Orys." She hesitated. "However, his wife is a Martell and the Martells are currently our enemies. Not many Dornishmen will rebel against their lord or lady and Edric is in no position to fight alone against the rest of Dorne. If he even protests against fighting for this false Aegon, I believe he would lose his titles and lands to our cousin Ser Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage."

"What would you counsel Edric?"

Ashara stopped and frowned. She crossed her arms. "Are you assuming that I was aware of all this and on the side of the Dornish?"

"No!" exclaimed Ned. "Nothing like that at all!" As he and Ashara walked down the steps of the barge to one of the docks of White Harbour, silence returned.

"Lord Stark!" boomed Lord Wyman Manderly, waddling towards Ned. He gave Ned a broad grin. "Lady Stark!" He kissed Ashara's hand. He turned around, with his massive belly bumping into some of Ned's men. "Where's Lady Arya and Lord Brandon?" He looked at Ned expectedly.

"Arya is over there my lord Manderly," said Ned, nodding at Arya who froze in her tracks like a guilty thief. "My son Bran…" He hesitated. There had been talk of continuing Bran's education here at White Harbour. He couldn't possibly say that Bran was in the Eyrie. It might lead Lord Manderly to the wrong conclusions. "He was wounded in a melee," Ned said finally. The truth was best. "Due to the events that occurred, Ashara and I thought it was better to allow him to recover safely in the Eyrie than endure a strenuous journey to Winterfell." He slowly walked with Lord Manderly in the direction of New Castle, House Manderly's seat. Waiting for Lord Wyman and Ned were horses and an enormous wheelhouse decorated with carvings of mermaids holding tridents – the Manderly sigil. "There are horses for all your men," said Lord Manderly generously, waving a large, plump hand at the herd of horses. "A palfrey for Lady Arya if she wishes to ride."

Ned could not resist a smile as he noticed Arya brightening considerably. Arya was never one to remain still for long – unless she was catching cats. Before Arya could even ask, Ned gave her a nod of assent. "You may ride to New Castle on the condition that you ride beside one of my men."

"Yes Father," said Arya immediately.

"What of you?" Ned heard Lord Manderly ask his granddaughter Lady Wylla. "I know you like riding too."

Ned would've preferred to stretch his legs and ride a bit too, but he was aware that Lord Manderly wished to talk to him and as the Lord of White Harbour could no longer ride, it was the wheelhouse for both of them.

"Lady Stark." Lord Wyman was now addressing Ashara. "Care to join your lord husband and I in the wheelhouse?"

"I'll be honoured Lord Manderly," Ashara responded with a dazzling smile.

The three of them – Ned, Ashara and Lord Manderly – headed to the enormous wheelhouse. The servant in Manderly colours opened the wheelhouse door. Lord Manderly gestured for Ned to climb in. "After you of course, Lord Stark," the Lord of White Harbour said genially, "and you, Lady Stark."

Ned stepped into the wheelhouse. Wheelhouses weren't common in the North as northmen preferred to ride. There were litters, but even then, they were not a usual sight. In fact, it was Ned's first time to see the interior of a wheelhouse. The seats were covered with plump blue-green silk cushions and the matching silken curtains were pulled and tied back from the window.

"Your wheelhouse is lovely," spoke Ashara as Lord Manderly squeezed in with a grunt. The servant closed the door behind him.

"One of House Manderly's finest," chuckled Lord Manderly, as the wheelhouse began to move. "Many of my family members are keen riders, but happen to also be lovers of fine feasts." He patted his huge belly and chortled. "When riding is no longer possible, we travel in wheelhouses. It was my grandfather Lord Medmore who first thought of utilising wheelhouses. Now he was a Manderly who loved all his fine wine and food more than exercise! He could barely move and even one of the strongest litters could not carry him. How was he to attend the harvest feast? He ordered a wheelhouse to be made for him."

Ned smiled politely.

"How was my granddaughter?" questioned Lord Manderly. "She wrote to me a great number of letters when she was at King's Landing. It seemed like she vastly enjoyed her time at court."

"Lyarra enjoyed her company," Ashara told him. "She was delighted to have an old friend at King's Landing with her."

Lord Manderly beamed with pride. "My granddaughters know their duty well, Lord Stark, and will declare their loyalty towards House Stark quite willingly and proudly." He paused and stroked his beard. "Lord Ryswell had offered one of his younger brothers for my granddaughter Wynafryd," he said casually. Ned almost smiled. He was expecting this from Lord Manderly. "A good match eh? If it occurs, and Wynafryd and her Ryswell husband have children, they will be Manderlys of course, not Ryswells. I hope an equally prestigious match can be made for Wylla." He laughed amicably. "Perhaps a southron one!"

"I don't think you need to look for a southron match," said Ned, glancing at his wife who nodded slightly. "House Manderly had always been loyal to my House – it still is today. My second son Bran, always wanted to be a knight. He had spent a great deal of time in King's Landing and it is time to educate him into a northman. I do not wish to disappoint him in depriving him of a chance to be a knight and of all the noble Houses in the North, your House believes in knighthood more and it will do Bran some good to squire here for your son Ser Wylis, if you consent. If all goes well and you and Ser Wylis are pleased with Bran's progress, a match can be made between Bran and your granddaughter Lady Wylla. I also plan to bestow a keep and lands upon Bran once he reaches manhood – Wolf's Den perhaps."

"Certainly!" boomed Lord Manderly, his expression one of pleasure. His brows furrowed. "Did you not say earlier that Lord Brandon is recovering from a wound in the Eyrie, Lord Stark?"

Ned nodded. "I did indeed, Lord Manderly. Once Bran recovers, I plan to bring him home for a few months before sending him here. He will need rest at home a few months. Settle in and everything." Bran had not set foot in Winterfell in quite some time. Will he still consider it home? Ned wondered. Of course Bran would be still considering Winterfell home! He's a Stark after all.

"New Castle always welcomes Starks," Lord Manderly was saying. "If you're in need of supplies, furs, troops, House Manderly will give them willingly to you and House Stark, my lord."

Seizing the opportunity, Ned said bluntly, "There's a Dornish uprising in King's Landing, Lord Manderly. The Dornish declared themselves loyal to one king and that is Aegon Targaryen. Rhaegar's dead son."

Lord Manderly's eyes widened. "You jest, Lord Stark."

Ned shook his head. "I will not jest on a matter like that. There is no doubt that this Aegon Targaryen is an imposter – a descendant of Targaryen bastards or one blessed with the Valyrian features perhaps. Whatever the case, the Dornish and a number of noble Houses have declared for the false Aegon. Lord Manderly, as I'm sure you've heard, King Robert is dead. It is Orys who is king now."

"Indeed." Lord Manderly stroked his beard again. "Will it be war?"

"Most likely, Lord Manderly. I am not heading to Winterfell for safety. I plan to travel there to summon my troops. King Orys is my good-son and I will aid him in any way I can. My daughter Lyarra…she is in King's Landing. She is also pregnant. If the Dornish and the false Aegon win, they will not be kind to her."

"My men are at your disposal Lord Stark. My sons Wylis and Wendel will be in charge of them. My barges are at yours too."

"That is generous of you Lord Manderly." Nothing comes without a price. "Your aid will not be forgotten."


"He wants the Hornwood?"

Ned grimaced. The brief stay at White Harbour was refreshing, but as Ned had expected, showed hints of Lord Manderly's ambitions. It's my fault for bringing up the southron matter though. He cursed himself for falling into Lord Wyman's trap. He now strongly suspected that Lord Manderly had already caught wind of what was happening in the south.

Ashara shook her head with a sigh. "Wise that you said you would consider it. If this is Lord Manderly's reaction, I do not want to know what the other lords of the North will say or bargain for. The Hornwood! Poor Lady Hornwood. A widow and sonless." She hesitated. "I was unaware of Daryn Hornwood's death. I didn't even know Lady Hornwood's husband died either in such a short time. There are no Hornwoods left. Plenty with Hornwood blood who will no doubt fight for their claim to the Hornwood with Lady Hornwood still alive and grieving. Horrible. If I was Lady Hornwood and I received a proposal of marriage, I'd frighten him away with a good smacking."

"Is that not ladylike, Mother?" said Arya, listening in.

Ashara snorted. "Imagine you are a sonless widow who is past childbearing. If I was a young man, I wouldn't marry an old widow, but if she is the last of a noble House, even by marriage, that is an enticing offer. It would be clear that the man wanted to marry her for her lands."

"I would kill him," said Arya promptly. "He has no right to offer me marriage if my husband died the day before."

"Fair enough."

Ned stared at Ashara in astonishment. For months, Ashara attempted to teach Arya to improve in her sewing and other feminine activities and she'd voiced her displeasure in Arya practising with Needle – and now this?

"What?" said Arya, her mouth wide open in shock.

"Apparently that's what one of my ancestors did," said Ashara, smiling. "She'd been a Yronwood at birth and she married a Dayne. Their children died young of a fever and the Sword of the Morning died in battle at the age of fifty. Though the lady was fifty as well, the day after her husband's death, came a flurry of wedding proposals, some from messengers and some from the potential suitors. I believe the youngest suitor was a boy of fourteen. It was obvious they wanted Starfall for themselves. The lady was enraged and killed the lot of them."

"What of the consequences?" Arya's eyes were as wide as dishes. "Father said that if you anger a lord, you anger the lord and his noble House."

Ashara shrugged. "There was a range of different endings to that tale. Some do say that she was punished and her body left out in the desert; other say she killed herself to avoid being married off to another man. Either way, Starfall was given to her late husband's distant cousin Ser Damon Dayne, whose wife was late Lady Dayne's daughter from her first marriage to a Blackmont. That tale was probably full of fiction with very little truth in it. Even for a Dornishwoman, killing lords or knights to avoid marriage seems a bit extreme." Ned smiled slightly to himself as he heard Arya ask Ashara another question. During their time in the south, there had been more arguments than conversations between them. It felt good to hear Ashara and Arya speak on more civil terms again.

Allowing Ashara and Arya to talk alone, Ned rode forward and watched Theon jape with some of the household guards. Cley Cerwyn was to be part of the party, but he had volunteered to represent the northern support and rode off with King Orys with his southron wife, Lady Roslin Frey. Theon is not a child, Ned reflected, keeping an eye on the heir of Pyke. He is a man grown now. It is time he returned to the Iron Islands to take his place as heir, but is it a good idea? Theon had been at Winterfell for twelve years and probably in the eyes of the Ironborn, was more a northerner than an Ironborn.

Now was not a good time to release Theon though, with the Seven Kingdoms a few steps away from war. Until there's peace once more, Ned promised. Once Orys Baratheon is safe on the Iron Throne, I will propose the termination of Theon's stay as guest at Winterfell. A bride must be provided for Theon though. Ned shook his head. His thoughts should be on preparing for war!

As Ned rode closer to Winterfell, the sight of tarred heads stuck on spikes atop Winterfell's battlements caused him to pull his horse into a skidding halt. What in the old gods is going on? Ned disliked putting heads on spikes – he rarely did – as it did not serve a particular purpose during peaceful times. A thought occurred to Ned. Was it Domeric Bolton's suggestion that Robb decided to use?

Theon turned to Ned. "Lord Stark, winter town is no more."

Ned spurred his horse towards him and stared at what was once winter town. There were over a dozen men busily building and repairing houses and stalls and cleaning the streets of ashes. To Ned's horror, there was a cart stacked high with bodies that bore traces of stab wounds.

One of the workers turned that moment and spotted Ned. "Milord Stark!"

"Erick," said Ned, recognising the man. Erick was a builder – he was part of an esteemed family of builders who had oft built furniture for the Starks as well as a dozen (if not more) benches and long tables for inns and taverns in winter town. "Erick," Ned said again, dismounting his horse and walking up to the builder. "I'm afraid I've been travelling for the last week and received no raven. Tell me, Erick, what happened here?" He gestured to their surroundings. "When I left Winterfell, winter town was well and flourishing."

"There was a battle milord," Erick responded. "The Bolton Bastard led a large host of men and invaded winter town. They pillaged, raped and burnt and then in the middle of all this chaos, the Bolton Bastard infiltrated Winterfell and declared himself Lord of Winterfell."

A chill ran down Ned's spine. "Where was Robb? Where is my family? Is…" He swallowed deeply. "Is Robb still alive?"

Erick nodded. "Lord Robb is still alive milord. Recovering from wounds he had gained in battle, but still alive. He fought the Bolton Bastard himself and won." He hesitated. "There was a funeral here yesterday, I believe. Heard it was a lady that died. Not sure who though milord."

"Is the Bastard of Bolton dead?" questioned Ned.

"Aye milord. It was Lord Robb who killed him."

Ned thanked the builder and headed straight for the castle, the sound of Arya, Ashara, Theon and the other northmen calling after him faint and muffled by the loud buzz of worry that echoed in Ned's mind. Ned headed straight to the solar – he stopped in his tracks when he heard a babe's cry from the nursery.

A babe's cry.

Rickon had ceased crying years ago. He whined and howled like a direwolf but he'd rarely cried after his first name day. Daenerys birthed the babe, Ned thought, remembering the news of his good-daughter's pregnancy. Instead of relief, it was apprehension that remained with him. What if the false Aegon declared to all the world that Daenerys was in truth a Targaryen? She'd no longer be safe here; nor would her child.

Butterflies fluttered wildly in Ned's stomach as he entered the nursery. As was expected, there were a cluster of ladies in there. Lady Alys Karstark was present, his daughter Gwenysse was there too, as was Lady Meera Reed. Next to Lady Alys was Robb. Where was Daenerys? Surely the proud mother would be there?

"Father," said Robb, spotting him. A smile spread on Robb's face. Ned couldn't help notice the dark shadows under Robb's eyes and the bruises, scratches and a scar or two that embellished Robb's cheeks. He's a man now. A rather ancient and First Men saying was that a man wasn't a man until he received his first war scar in battle. The Umbers and the mountain clans still followed that tradition as did a branch of House Flint. There were probably other noble Houses too. Ned beamed back at Robb and embraced him warmly.

"Thank the old gods you are back," said Robb, breaking away. "Maester Luwin told me a week ago and I am so relieved, Father."

"We'll talk more of Winterfell and the North later," said Ned, clapping him on a shoulder. "For now, tell me about your child."

"Children, Lord Stark," spoke Lady Alys, moving away, revealing two cribs. "It's twins – both girls." Ned stared at Robb's two daughters. My grandchildren. One – the babe with darker brown hair – was awake and smiled at him, waving her tiny hands in the air. The other – the babe with brown hair a shade lighter – was fast asleep, wrapped cosily in furs.

"Lysara and Alysanne," said Robb, pointing first at the awake babe and then at the sleeping child. "Daenerys named them before…" His voice trailed off.

"Before?" prompted Ned. The ladies present glanced at each other and quietly left the nursery, leaving him alone with Robb and the twins.

"She's dead," said Robb, shaking with emotions. "Dany's dead, Father. She died giving birth to the twins. How could this have happened? Dany was young! It was wrong – she shouldn't have died."

"It happens," said Ned gently, as the nursery door opened softly. He looked up and saw Ashara and Arya hovering hesitantly at the doorstep. "Death will take all of us at the end. Daenerys didn't die in vain; she birthed you two daughters."

"Ned," said Ashara softly. Ned and Robb looked at her. "I didn't wish to intrude, but Maester Luwin gave me an urgent letter from Lyarra."

His heart sinking, Ned dared to ask, "What is it?"

"King's Landing has fallen. The gold cloaks betrayed Lord Stannis. Lyarra's his prisoner, Ned. The false Aegon has Lyarra."


komninosmichaelides, I definitely agree with you about Daenerys in canon and thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

So Ned is back in Winterfell - for how long? :) I'll try to upload chapters a bit more often, but I'm afraid uni work just gets in the way these days as does work. Ah well, 1 chapter per week is better than none :D