Eddard III

Castle Darry was under siege. The army—if it could be called an army—encamped beneath its walls was nothing more than most of the household guards present in King's Landing and some gold cloaks. It was still more than enough to overrun the castle, and His Grace had only been stopped from doing so by Jon Arryn, he'd heard. The group was a mesh of tents set up in a way only a man who has been to war would see. That alone told him Robert and Jon were here. The soldiers moving about flowed between the camps like a stream of Baratheon black, Arryn blue, and Lannister red, the tents like timeworn rocks that were unseated by neither the wind nor the waves. It was fortunate that I received the message, else I would not have reached here on time. The mute child had clutched a paper with an outrageous tale written on it, and if Ned did not have a promise to keep, he would not have come south on the word of an oathbreaker.

The men parted before him like the waves had parted before the Silver Swift that brought him to the Riverlands from White Harbour. When he reached the tent that was large enough to be his king's, he could hear Lord Jon's patient tones answering Robert's angry ones. He pushed his way in, not bothering to announce himself. The tension in Robert and Jon's frames loosened and his foster father gave him a warm smile before clasping hands with him. Scarcely had Ned loosened his hand from Jon's when Robert, a large grin on his face, brought his arms around the Lord of Winterfell. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you turned up. That's the only good thing that's coming out of this whole damn business. I have half a mind to send Manderly back with you since everyone seems to know of Targaryens living in my kingdom except my Master of Whisperers."

Ned pulled back before Robert could crush his back in his anger or joy. His friend had gained weight since taking the crown but he was still the Demon of the Trident. "Lord Wyman tried his best to do his duty. He is the one who informed you, isn't he?"

Robert made a sound that could generously be called affirmative and Ned soldiered on. "What do you plan to do? I only received a message that told of the whereabouts of the Targaryen children."

Jon's gaze settled on him, sharp as a falcon. "You say you received a message? It can't have been the one we sent; you departed from the North before we even knew of these events."

Ned gave a hesitant nod. "I received it from someone who claimed to have been sent by Jorah Mormont. It said that the Targaryens would seek shelter in Castle Darry and urged me to hurry south."

Robert's anger returned, as mighty and deadly as his warhammer. "They planned to entice you into joining a rebellion, no doubt. The Narrow Sea and Crownlander houses must already be remembering who they used to serve under in days of the past."

"They are but babes, not even fully Targaryen. The Darrys only wish for you to spare their lives, they haven't even raised the banners for them. Daenerys' children are half Dothraki and the Great Houses will remember that before any decide to pledge support," Jon remarked. "Robert, killing them would blacken your reputation for the rest of your reign."

His friend's anger was not so easily contained. "What will you have me do? Leave them? Will they live the rest of their lives in a Free City searching for true love? No, as like as not, they will come back at the head of an army to threaten me or my son." Neither Ned nor Jon could provide assurances to the contrary so Robert continued. "Those blasted incest-spawn curse everything they touch. They spit in the face of my great-grandfather for a peasant! My parents died finding a bride for Rhaegar and then he stole my own!"

"They need not grow up like that, Robert. They are children, not more than a month old—"

Robert did not let him finish. "What about the future, when they are grown? What if these Targaryens try to kidnap my daughter or yours? What if they try to take the throne we bled for?!"

"Then we will deal with them like the men we are, not snakes who kill babes."

Robert wavered for a minute and he pressed his advantage. "Give the babes to me, they will be raised away from court and you can be sure that none of them will plan treason in my halls."

"Besides," Jon Arryn added, "you can wed them to your line and no one will question your legitimacy."

That was the wrong thing to say for Robert's determined frown returned with a vengeance. "As long as I live, I will not marry my children to dragonspawn."

"Send them to live with me, they will be—" Robert interrupted him then.

"No, the dragons are too devious and you are far too kind to babes. They cannot go with you."

"The Eyrie then," Ned reasoned. Robert gave a joyless laugh then.

"There were many in the Vale who did not wish to fight the Targaryens and I will not send them to an impregnable castle when Jon is to remain here as Hand. They will not corrupt our childhood home."

"They could go to Casterly Rock, the Lannisters are allies—" Jon tried interjecting.

"I would sooner trust a babe to a pit viper than to Tywin Lannister," Ned immediately answered.

"Please, Robert." Ned pleaded to his friend, hoping for the man win over the king. On seeing his unchanged face, he said what he did not have the courage to say on seeing the three bodies wrapped in blood-red Lannister cloaks. "Lyanna would've hated to see you like this. Lyanna would've hated you if you did this."

Robert stiffened, turning his face away, and Jon left, giving him a look he could not interpret.

"She once duelled Brandon as champion for a stable-boy because the boy's brother had taken one of Brandon's sweets. Brandon wanted to punish the boy for what his brother did and Lyanna defended him."

"Did she win?" he asked woodenly.

"He knocked her to the dirt but as soon as he turned she jumped on his back and wacked him on the head."

Robert chuckled at that but did not answer.

"We fought a war for her; do not become a man she would hate sorely to sate your vengeance on men long dead."

He sighed and his form relaxed a little. Then, as if bracing himself he said, "I wouldn't want to be wacked on the head by any of you Starks."

Ned let out the worry and fear that had soaked into him when he first heard about the children and gave a relieved sigh.

"They will remain here; we need to be sure we will not have another Aerys or Rhaegar. When they reach their majority, the girls will join the Silent Sisters and the boy will go to the Night's Watch"

It was as good a verdict as he was going to get from Robert. Besides, if the gods were good, the children would grow up befriending Robert's heirs.

"She would have been proud of your choice, Robert. So am I, for that matter."

Robert remained as unyielding as the stones of Winterfell. "I would extract a price from you first. We defeated those accursed madmen with the alliances we made. I want those alliances to continue on to the next generation."

Ned gave a reluctant nod, anticipating where they conversation was headed. All marriages are arranged so and he and Cat had found love in their union. It was a small price to pay to save innocent babes. "I will agree to alliances, provided my children do not loath their intended."

Robert snorted. "I wouldn't want my children to have a marriage like mine. It's a fate worse than death, trust me on that. Your eldest boy will marry Mace Tyrell's daughter. Your daughter will be my son's queen."

The betrothal for Robb was unexpected but Robert wanting the second betrothal was not. "My elder daughter, Arya, has the most of the North in her. It would be a cruelty to take her away from it. Sansa, my youngest, would be better in age and personality. As for the Tyrell girl, I have no objections." His bannermen most certainly would have objections at two Lords of Winterfell marrying outside the North but the grain from the Reach will be welcomed nevertheless. Arya will have to be betrothed to a Northerner to placate them...

Robert gave a nod. "Don't think I'm only doing this to you. My children will marry to secure the realm as well. My Elyana will have to marry the Tyrell heir and the rest of my children will have betrothals as well." Robert poured him a glass of wine and raised his own towards him. His smile was a flash of white teeth in the thicket of the black beard. "To going from friends to family," he toasted.

"To becoming family," Ned said and drank.

Once Robert swore to allow the Targaryen children to live, the Lord of Darry opened his gates and hosted a feast for them. When Robert was presented with the babes, Ned was present and could finally see them. Two girls, one with brown eyes and dark hair, looking as much a Targaryen as Ned did. The other girl had wisps of golden hair and bright blue eyes that reminded him of Cat's eyes, just a shade darker. The boy was a true Targaryen, violet eyed with a shaved head. The Warden of the North would bet his life it had been cut off to make Robert feel kinder towards the boy. Whether it worked or not, he could not say, as he sat with a lordly face hearing Robert make judgements. Robert was given the honour to name them and after much deliberation, he settled on Celaena, Aenyra and Kaeron respectively. All Targaryen names, yet as obscure as their owners are meant to be. Jorah Mormont was pardoned. Ned could not say he was pleased but at least the man was not foolish enough to return north with him, opting to take a ship from Seaguard to Bear Island.

Perhaps Ned should not have been as surprised as he was when Dacey Mormont arrived at Winterfell two moons later, asking for a place in his household and a chance to redeem her family's reputation. She could not stand her cousin and Ned could not begrudge her that. Arya, Robb, and Jon, already as close as siblings can be with their similar interests, easily welcomed her. That she took to Winterfell like a fish to water would be like saying the Wall was cold.

A year later, Domeric Bolton arrived to serve as his ward as well, though this time he was sure it was at his lord father's urging. Lord Roose wished for a betrothal and Ned had consented to let the boy interact with his daughters. If he proves unsuitable—or as Cat fears, a true Bolton—Lord Karstark has two sons. The eldest daughter of Winterfell would be much sought after, he knew. Sansa adored Domeric at least, for he always had a song to sing on that harp of his. The heir to the Dreadfort did not adapt as easily as Dacey, but his upbringing in the Vale, so similar to Ned's own, did much to endear the people of Winterfell to him. All except his intended. Arya disliked the betrothal almost as much as she feinted to dislike the boy himself. But Ned was her father, he saw the signs of her interest—or more accurately, her curiosity about the soft-spoken Bolton. If he had not seen it, he was half-convinced to cancel the betrothal and earn the Leech Lord's ire. Robb was destined to be wed to a stranger he would hardly meet till his wedding and made his indignation at it very clear. Until Catelyn had gone to his room and reminded him of his parents' marriage. "You are half-Tully, Robb. For that, you must do your duty as a Stark of Winterfell," she had told him and he had listened.

In the end, that was all they could do. Family, Duty, Honour. They were the words of his wife's house but Ned thought his children living by them was not a terrible outcome.

It was not as peaceful or kind a life as he wanted for his children and for Cat. But it was better than what they had had before.

—

As three of the blood of the dragon were taken by the homesick bear, saved by the oathbound wolf, and raised by the reluctant stag, a shadowbinder took the little forms that housed the fire of gods made flesh. "To be the light, you must pass beneath the blight of doom," she said. "It is only fitting for the shadows to raise the champions of light. Look at the heart and home of your enemy's ancient foe, little ones, and you will know the price of hubris."