A/N: Hello all, I would like to thank everyone who has read, fav, followed, and or reviewed so far. This story has been in the back of my mind for a while now. This is going to be heavily AU, many instances with still occur, to allow cannon to play out, but the consequences will be different. Some characters will seem OOC, and you may be right. I am a new writer, so I ask you to be patient with my grammer and style of writing as it is non-existent.

A/N: Only going to say this once. I do not own anything you recognize in this story, whether it is from Game of Thrones or the books.

Chapter 2:

Explaining to the dozens of Northern Nobles and vessel lords that we would in fact not be killing any dragons today, was much more taxing than actually facing the army itself.

While breaking the news, I was apprehensive of their reactions. Why wouldn't I be?

My face set in stone, voice calm and grim, I added my own comments, careful not to reveal more than what they needed to know. while leaning forward with hands planted on the worn oaken table in our central commander tent, I made eye contact with each man.

Really though, their facial, and body expressions told me everything I needed to know.

Most looked almost relieved, shoulders drooping as if an immense burden had been lifted from them. Though not surprising as many of these lords had family members, some close, and others distant on the other side of that field today.

Lords Bolton, Blackvyne, and Bludhaven, each wore carefully constructed masks of indifference.

Roose Bolton, who stood facing my direction, was a tall thinly built man of around my own age. His eerie soft voice and dead fish like pale blue eyes made most anyone around him uncomfortable. It was a tactic, a very skillfully honed way of keeping his peers and inferiors on edge. Just as he intended.

Out of all the noble lords from the North, father always told us when we were young that under no circumstance, does a Stark of Winterfell show weakness in front of a Bolton.

Their storied history as house Starks bloody rivals from centuries of conflict, as the Red Kings.

Grandfather Rorrick Stark had three rules when dealing with Bolton. First never allow a Bolton to marry into the family, ever. The Bolton's should never be trusted for the fostering of a Stark, period. When the flayer's seem docile, charming, or overly friendly, prepare for a dark and bloody war. Winter has come.

The house of Blackvyne, is wealthy, as rich from trade as the loyal Manderly's on the eastern coast. The taxes and tithes the Warden receive per quarter were nothing to scoff at for sure.

None actually knew how full the coffers were in Winterfell, but the lord and heir.

There is a reason why father was resolute in saying "a Stark must always be in Winterfell", all his sons learned that lesson young.

"No wife, stewards, and certainly no maesters." He would harp, pounding lordly knowledge into our stubborn heads.

Even Benjen who unfortunately had to endure fathers teaching without his brothers.

Ben l. As my heir, ruled in my absence, like a true Stark.

Father had said that the Blackvyne's were a prickly sort, as they ruled the entirety of Sea Dragon Point and the villages and minor lords located there. They held one major city the size of Lannisport, Vainport and it thrived, a massive venue for economy to flourish.

As descendants of house Stark, from a second son of a thousand year's past that married into the dying line of the Black clan. Who were famous in their own right, for their initial support of the original Night's Watch kept it afloat.

The Night's Watch even wore black clothing to show their gratitude. The head of their large noble clan is Estel Blackvyne. a man who is in his late 40s, was stern and quiet, full head of midnight black hair and calculating grey eyes. When he spoke men quit their mindless jabbering and listened.

He was one of my three trusted commanders in this war.

The Bludhaven's were closely related family though, the current lord, my uncle on my mother's side, was a cautious man. Tyne Bludhaven.

Though father always seemed weary around them, never one to break formal protocols when dealing with the family. They were polite, but formal people, with their foreign weapons, culture, and appearance stood out wherever they went.

They ruled part of Cape Kraken, as the Flints held the cliffs to one side of the plateau, they held the rest. Protected by the neck to the east, and the high cliffs bordering the sea around them, they became the western coast's shield against reavers.

Strangely to some southern nobles, their serfs, who became warriors were treated as respected lords, instead of just common landed knights. Because if proven to be valiant and intelligent in battle, a serf could gain notoriety and be granted a surname and raise a house of their own, as my mother used to explain about her families code of honor.

Hailing from across the Sunset sea, an Island nation built on a warrior's code. We are told it was a brutal, merciless civil war ravaged land of immense beauty.

Near a hundred twenty years ago, they arrived with 2 dozen ships or so, rowing up the saltpans where the Stark forces battled during the Dance of Dragons. The army at the time was out numbered and battle weary. Stubborn and unrelenting the lord of Winterfell planned on fighting to the last man, when these strange warriors came to their aid. Strange, but incredible warriors, armed with long curved blades, demon shaped masks and helms and helped pushed the opposing force back. Why they chose to support the rough looking Northmen, no one but those there knew

.

The Warlord that lead these men was given vast empty lands and titles after the war, for his aid. Soon their people began learning our language and customs as they adapted to life in the North.

There people took on Westerosi names and even their warlord took the name of Bludhavan, from the ancient castle given to him.

I had only met my mother's sire once before he died, a year before I left to go to the Vale. A stern, but brilliant man my mother had said. I remember him arguing for Brandon and I to be fostered at Bludhaven Castle, alongside our cousins, so we could become warriors like our ancestors. However father didn't allow it, preferring to send me east to the Vale, and Brandon to stay in Winterfell.

I remember my disappointment, I wanted to learn how to use that curved blade as a boy.

Only the obnoxious giant.. Jon Umber attempted to put up any actual protest."What kind of pansy ass sister fucking Tar--" he began to rage, before I cut off the flow of vulgarity with a raise of my hand, and shut that shit down.

'I am so tired of these arrogant fucks.' I thought before raising my voice in warning.

"The decision is final Jon! You have my word, is that not enough Umber? It's been swore that I will be the judge, jury, and executioner for the mad king, I swear on the old gods and the new!" Snarling at the burly giant. My blood roared, the wolf's blood they call it, I've never felt so pissed.

Full on glaring at the man, his face frozen in shock, as were every man in the room.

"Ned Stark rarely gets agitated, but you did the one thing I never could! You've got the quiet wolf ready to rip your Gods be damned throat out!" A familiar voice roared in laughter from behind me.

Robert. Of course, we should have been moving out already.

"Ready the men, no more delaying, move!" I demanded, the edge still there.

A resounding "Aye!" Rang out, a few chuckles as the Umber lord looked gobsmacked and gave a salute and shouted "Hell yeah! Lets kill some sissy southrons!"

'Those masks of indifference broke. I surprised even them with my outburst.' I thought to myself as I turned towards the servants and gave the commands to pack up the large tent.

"Ned." Robert called as I strode from the tent, moving towards my own equipment, quickly packing the few things I would take with me.

"What?" My exasperated tone, clearly being picked up by my foster brother.

"Lord Tully and the Blackfish are joining Prince Rhaegar's host with Jon." He began to explain, snatching up supplies of his own, placing them in saddlebags.

"The Frey's were spotted half an hour ago, Tully isn't happy, I can tell you that much. They are being ordered to follow me to Storm's End. Frey's heir has been blabbering on and on, it's going to be a nightmare." He rambled.

I took a moment to glance at my friend, his face showed the days worth of turmoil, the sorrow clear in his eyes.

"I am sorry." Robert spoke lowly as we made eye contact.

"You did the right thing. At least I believe you did, I'm sorry too, about my sister.." I said, grabbing his shoulders. Trying to convey my empathy.

He gave me an uneasy smile and spoke again,

"It was my fault from the start, you know Ned, I'm going to find that babe in the vale, and raise her in my household, she's a damn Baratheon afterall!" His voice growing in strength, his statement took me off guard however.

'Maybe this will change him for the better?' I couldn't help but wonder as we swung up into our saddles and trotted to the front of the gathering formations of men.

--

Two hours later..

It was past noon by the time we lead the troops from the shores of the Trident.

Jon to my left, with his household knights and direct bannermen of the Eerie, near 8,000 knights, and common men.

Robert to my right, with the majority of our forces under his command, 30,000 men, to join 10,000 of the Targaryen's for a harsh march south.

I headed the last couple thousand men, all light horse for our journey to the Dornish desert. We would ride hard, stopping only to rest the horses, then eat in the saddle. The small force that will go to the Tower of Joy with me would break off from our host a day from our destination, as a deterrent from some up jumped marsh lord thinking us an easy target.

The prince had sent a messenger to meet him today, we won't have time before we disperse at Duskendale in a few days time.

I turned and gestured for lord Blackvyne, and Bludhaven to join me.

"Uncle take command, the prince has requested for me to speak with him."

He gave a sharp nod of acceptance, competent, and loyal, thankfully. One of my three commanders.

"Estel, I would like you and Lord Reed to join me." It was phrased as a request.

" Of course My lord. " his only response as he turned to alert Howland to come forward.

Nodding in approval, I soon lead the duo of commanders around the tens of thousands of black and red troops to reach the silver prince. His Kingsguard was the first glance we saw, that impractical white enamel armor. Then, briefly the prince who wore a three headed dragon etched upon black armor, that had rubies for eyes, and encrust across as their scales. Gaudy, damn it must cost a fortune.

The general rabble of lick-spittle, boot licking, yes men meandered around us as we approached the Targaryen and his retinue of commanders. The glares sent my way were far less than I expected, Though a couple with puffed up faces twisted in anger, attempted to block our path.

'Though I'd welcome a chance to let loose some tension if one of these cock-fools got too ballsy.' An unusually vindictive smile turned up the side of my lips.

' Dammit, I spend too much time around Robert.' I chastise myself, face returning to its usual grim mask.

"Gentlemen, if you don't move out the Warden of the North's way, I will personally whip you until your backs are in ribbons!" A feral like growl came from our left side as a stocky muscular man marched up to the ignorant knights, his hands gesturing a mock whipping, zealously.

A hightower adorned his breastplate.

With a grateful nod we continued, not stopping to converse until finally making it to the prince.

"Your Grace." I called in my usual tone. Too tired to think about my emotions toward this man.

" Lord Eddard, please join me." He motioned for me to follow as he rode ahead, away from a gaggle of men bragging and gossiping like old women.

"This is a letter Lya asked me to try and give to you "

Taking it from the man, I cautiously ripped it open to see what she might have written.

Ned,

I was foolish, we shouldn't have acted like this, it was thoughtless and reckless. Father and Bran, it hurts so much Ned. It is all my fault, i didn't think! I just couldn't marry that damn whoremonger, I know he was your friend, I know you must hate me.

I don't understand how this all went wrong! I sent a letter to Riverrun to give to Brandon before the wedding with the Tully girl. The messenger returned to us and said Lysa Tully swore to give it to him!

I can't bear to see my brother and husband try to kill each other. I am so sorry that I caused this. I know its foolish, but I truly love him, I love Rhaegar. He is a good man!

Please Ned, everytime I go to sleep I see their faces, I can't lose anyone else.

-Love Lyanna

" Fuck." I swore, image be damned.

'Something isn't right, I know this is Lyanna's handwriting. What is this about Lysa Arryn?!"

" Sire?"

Estel's voice Shook me out of my shock.

Wordlessly I handed the paper to him, and then to Howland.

Their faces paled in realization.

"It was a betrayal, someone suppressed this information." Howland summarized in short.

' But who?' Was the unasked question.

We rode for a time, neither of my men spoke, the Prince, soon to be King, stared off in front of us, lost in thought, probably brooding.

'Jon. I need to talk to Jon.' I thought, at last, but then rethought it. He married the girl, he is even infatuated with her already.

Something didn't feel right, why would she not give the letter to Brandon? What would Lysa Tully gain from betraying her soon to be good brother?

"Ned." Howland's call caught my attention, the urgency in his tone clear.

"Yes?" Slowing my mount to ride beside his horse.

"While we were at Riverrun, I spent most of the time away from the southern lords as you know, in the Godswood." He began, the other two men listening to his low voice as they also came closer.

"The servants spoke of how Brandon cut down that Baelish boy for Caitlyn's hand. They spoke of how much he was obsessed with her." We all nodded in understanding, not sure where this was going.

"I am a small man, my Lord. Most people, even servants dismiss my presence. While I was leaving the Godswood I remember hearing kitchen maids gossip about Lady Arryn. "

We all took notice of his stature, many Lords except the North one's frequently ignored him. The Northmen knew that when a Reed spoke you listened.

"I thought it was just the normal rumor and gossip tosh that most kitchen wenches spread. However, I remember that they were talking about how the Lady Lysa had been locked in her room for weeks, ever since the young Baelish boy had been sent away. They said that while he was on his sickbed, Lysa visited him. They said, Ned, that she was with child. that Lord Tully was furious, and forced her to drink moontea. One even mentioned she heard it straight from the lady that provided it, as she was the herbalist in CrossRiver village."

No one spoke as we each processed the information.

Howland Reed was not a tall man, or very strong, but he was honorable and loyal, his word was to be trusted.

"We do nothing, until this war is settled." Estel's voice cut through the silence, like a knife through butter.

Indignantly I shot him a confused look.

He pointedly gave me a look back, that seemed to say;

'let me finish.'

It was Rhaegar who spoke up.

"Lord Blackvyne is correct. We must have stability before we seek out accusations, especially against the new Lady of the Eerie.

Once we have the Red Keep under our control, and the Tyrell's beaten, we can proceed with discretion, my lords. "

It was sound, it was logical. It still irked me though.

"It's tabled for now." I said, my eyes making contact with each man.

Voice cold as the Wall, I continue.

"But, when the realm is under control, I will know the truth of this, my brother and father are dead, and she may be involved."

The prince gave a brief nod of acceptance, his indigo eyes held a fire there, one I'd yet seen before this.

We soon turned around to rejoin the main host, our guarded escort reforming the ranks around the prince, and in turn us.

Robert and Jon, and a few of their advisors each joined us as we hashed out logistics as we rode, the Kings road taking us the same direction for a day yet.