It seemed like every word from the south was bad news.
First had been the four men escorting the direwolves back to Winterfell (all clearly relieved to now have to deal with the three huge beasts any longer). They told a troublesome tale of how Arya and Morganna had gotten into a fight with Prince Joffrey on the banks of the Trident. The younger boy, Tommen, had also been involved somehow, although the details weren't exactly clear.
What had been clear was the bruise on Ross' daughter's face where the crown prince had hit her with the hilt of his sword. Upon hearing that, Ross had half a mind to take her horse and catch up with the royal party herself, giving Joffrey the smacks that his mother should've done years ago and hauling her daughter back north regardless of what anyone else thought. She had, perhaps wisely, decided against that course of action, largely because that made her no better than Catelyn.
Ross' anger at her goodsister abandoning her duties and heading off on some ill-informed journey to King's Landing had dulled slightly in the weeks the woman was gone. In truth, she rather enjoyed being the only Lady of Winterfell again. The men at the Dreadfort respected her of course (to her face at least), but it was very different being a Stark in Winterfell, her childhood home, to her husband's grim castle. And Ross would take any chance to get away from her husband. It wasn't that Bolton was ever cruel or violent towards her, but he scared her sometimes like few people ever had, though she'd never admit it. There was very little behind those pale eyes of his. Everything that happened, good or bad, seemed to be merely a mild amusement to him, a simple game to distract him from gods know what. Yes, Ross was glad to be home for longer than a few weeks.
All in all, affairs at Winterfell had settled into a new normal. Robb was a good lord - his father had taught him well - though was, of course, still a boy. That made no matter. Ross and Maester Luwin were more than able to assist him, particularly with the accounts and finances, which no young boy had any time for. That was Ross' domain, as it had been before she was married.
Bran seemed rather lost, all things considered, but that was only to be expected. He had lost several fingers from his right hand at the hands of a catspaw sent to murder him in his bed, and then he had lost his mother as the woman went tearing off south. Young Rickon wasn't coping any better and still behaved terribly, only aided by that monstrous black wolf of his. Ross was one of the few people aside from Robb and Aileen who could get him to toe the line, but it was clear she was not the mother the four year old wanted. Catelyn might have been strict, austere and a perfect lady as a mother, but she was practically soft compared to Ross.
None of her own children had ever seemed to need a softer touch, though. Ren had grown up far too fast, and had always been clever and fiercely independent. Edrick was wild and loved to act out, hardly wanting his mother to fuss over him, whilst Aileen had always preferred her own company and was perfectly happy to spend hours by herself, usually in the library. Of all of them, Morganna had been the most needy as a young child, but even that was hidden behind bravado, nerve and brazen cheek.
Ross was quite certain in the knowledge that her four wouldn't have done well if Catelyn was their mother, but equally she was sure that she could not adequately act as a mother to the other woman's children either. Robb was honourable and dutiful, too much like Ned despite his open, friendly demeanour, and Ross felt like any hint of her darker side would drive him away. Bran was a gentle, inquisitive boy who needed warmth and support from his mother rather than blunt realism and stern stares from his aunt. And Rickon was just a baby really, acting out of sadness and anger and wanting his mother, not the cold, hard-eyed woman who had replaced her.
Her goodsister needed to return north, and soon. Hopefully whatever she tried to stir up in King's Landing would be recognised as the reckless idiocy it was. Hopefully Ned would listen to his sister's letter rather than his wife's words. Hopefully everything would be fine.
She should've learned by now that things rarely went that way. When the news came that Catelyn had taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner on her way back through the Riverlands, Ross had been too furious to even speak.
Maester Luwin had handed Robb the letter first, and he didn't read it aloud as was his custom, rather scanned the page in tense silence, face growing grimmer with each passing second. Ross already knew it was bad news by the time he passed it over to her without a word.
She scanned down the letter herself, feeling her lips grow thinner with each passing sentence, her face turning to stone. By the end, she was gripping the parchment so tight that her knuckles were white. Knuckles that she would dearly like to slam into Catelyn Tully's pretty mouth. She was angrier than when the woman had first left, angrier than when Morganna had conned her way into going south, angrier than when Roose Bolton had said she couldn't take her son with her to the Dreadfort.
In that moment, she truly could've torn her own hair out. The pain would've paled in comparison to her rage. Of all the stupid things to have done, goodsister, you just had to start a war with Tywin Lannister.
"What was she thinking?" Robb had gone pale as she placed the letter on the desk.
The boy had the right of it. What was she thinking? It was madness, idiocy, dangerous and futile, because even if Tyrion had sent the catspaw after Bran, what did it matter now? They now had far bigger problems. It had to have been an impulse decision, because anyone who wasn't a simpleton couldn't have thought that that was a good idea after thinking about it for more than five minutes.
And why would Tyrion, of all the Lannisters, want to kill Bran? The assassin had told of being hired by a blond under a cloak; presumably he would've at least mentioned if the man was a dwarf. All Catelyn kidnapping Tyrion would do was piss off Lord Tywin, the queen and most of all Jaime, who loved his little brother dearly.
The news had surely reached King's Landing sooner than it had reached Winterfell, which meant Jaime had likely already caused trouble for her brother, the extent of which was harder to guess. Ross wouldn't put it past the man to abandon his post as a Kingsguard and ride after his brother himself. Despite all the things he'd seen, inside he was thirty three going on fifteen, reckless and hot-blooded.
She was right, of course. That news was slow to arrive, but soon came on a raven's wings, a letter in her daughter's handwriting. It was addressed to Ross herself, so she was the first to read it. Morganna had written to her a few times since arriving in King's Landing, nothing of great importance, merely who won in the tourney and how everyone was getting on. This time was different. Her daughter told of how Ned was unconscious in bed, his leg a tattered mess from his horse falling on him, due to an attack in the streets by two dozen Lannister men, led by the Kingslayer. The fact Morganna had written Kingslayer scarcely registered with Ross, as she felt her own face darken, and even Maester Luwin - who had delivered the letter unopened - paled slightly.
Without a word, she had risen from her brother's chair and left the room. The Maester didn't question her, and she went straight to the Godswood, nails digging so hard into her palms that the red crescents didn't fade. Everyone moved out of her way with one look at her face. She stood facing the tree rather than sat by the pool, staring into its great red eyes, jaw set in anger, wanting to scream until her voice gave out. She seemed to be feeling anger more than anything recently. Well, aside from fear, which fed the anger and was growing inside her, gnawing at her like a hundred rats, day and night.
This was what it was like last time. Small occurrences, incidents, happening often, and growing more and more frequent, more and more serious, until something happens to tip the balance, and all hell breaks loose. Jon Arryn's death. Bran's fall. Ned leaving. Catelyn's idiocy. Now this. It felt like the whole of Westeros was balanced on a knife's edge, and she was stuck up in the North, a land she loved but one that, at the moment, was half a kingdom away from her family in need.
Ross was not a politician or master manipulator, she wasn't a warrior or a lord, but at least she might have been able to talk some sense into some of the people she loved. Ned being Ned, he no doubt owned up to Catelyn's folly as if it were his own. Ren had spoken a little of the investigations her brother was making - Ned had mentioned little in his own letters to her, well aware that Pycelle read every one - and every word her son wrote convinced her that he should leave this matter, whatever it may be, well alone. Who cared about politics and intrigue far to the south? If Ross was in court, she might have been able to persuade him against it, or at least distract him to slow him down.
If she was in court, she might have been able to talk down a certain member of the Kingsguard before he attacked her brother in the streets.
The thought worsened her mood again. Jaime, you bloody fool. Ross wondered if he'd even stopped to consider that she might actually be slightly annoyed with him for ordering the deaths of three loyal men who she'd known for years, for creating a situation that resulted in her brother being temporarily crippled. In all honesty, likely he had considered it, and brushed it off. Act first and apologise later, that was his way of things. Likely it would work, too, if only because Ross couldn't even begin to think about what she would say the next time she saw him.
She knew exactly what she would say to Ned. Come home, you noble idiot, come back to your children and your castle, to lands where people love and respect you, to lands far away from King's Landing and its shit. Because if he didn't come home, Ross didn't know what she was going to do. She bowed her head before the heart tree, sinking to her knees on the damp earth. I can't lose anyone else, Ned, I can't.
Ross left the Godswood after an hour or so, her head somewhat clear, or clearer than it had been at least. She had been thinking; she was limited in what she could do here, as leaving Winterfell was out of the question. Robb was waiting for her in Ned's solar when she returned, his young face angry. He had been sitting in the lord's chair, but rose when she entered, the letter she had left in his hand.
"The Kingslayer will pay for this," He growled, slamming the parchment on the table.
"Doubtlessly," Ross tried not to show how weary she was, taking a seat opposite him along with Maester Luwin and making her tone even. "But think logically. For now, your father is fine. He'll be awake and walking in a few days, the injury will heal. No one else would have dared to act against him as long as Robert is king, and Jaime Lannister is gone. Most likely to join his father or fight for his brother, and there'll be no getting to him there. That problem, for now, is out of our hands. You can act like a lord and wait for retribution, or get yourself killed tearing off after one of the most dangerous men in the Seven Kingdoms," Robb looked like he wanted to protest, but stopped himself, nodding tersely. This was not what he wanted to hear, but he was a sensible boy, and knew it made sense.
"What can we do, then?" He sat down.
"Your mother kidnapping Tyrion Lannister is the greater issue in truth," Ross said bluntly. "But we've discussed that already," That discussion had resulted in Ross sending a strongly worded letter in Robb's name to both the Eyrie and Riverrun - she was unsure which way Catelyn would go, but it certainly would not be Winterfell - for her goodsister to open when she arrived there.
The message itself was clear and concise, without any pretty words or pleasantries; along the lines of return the damned dwarf with heartfelt apologies, or Tywin Lannister will tear the Riverlands apart. Reports were already coming in of bands of men, doubtlessly working for the Lannisters, burning fields and terrorising villages. It was damning news for sure, but Ross hoped Catelyn had at least learnt that her actions have consequences.
Ross had learned that lesson herself long ago, both through the mistakes of men like Rhaegar and Aerys, and through actions of her own. There's nothing like giving birth to a bastard, aged sixteen and unwed, to bring any illusions left crashing down. It was a shame Jaime Lannister hadn't learned that yet either. Or if he had, he didn't seem to care.
"Mother," Ross looked up, rubbing her eyes and seeing Aileen stood at the door. It was a week or so after the letters had gone out, and she had slept poorly ever since.
"Yes?"
"I've been talking to Bran," Her daughter hesitated, and Ross suddenly noticed that her young nephew was stood behind Aileen, half-hidden. The girl's tone was enough for Ross to narrow her eyes and sit up a fraction straighter.
"Sit down, both of you," Aileen and Bran did so, the boy looking far too uneasy. "What's wrong?" Because something was definitely wrong.
"He remembers his fall," Even her normally stoic daughter was clearly rattled by something, which meant it could be nothing good. Ross glanced at her nephew, who was pale and wide-eyed. Gods, do I even want to hear this, on top of everything? No, was the honest answer, but she would hear it nonetheless.
"What happened, Bran?" The boy took a deep breath.
"I know I didn't fall from very high," He said in a small voice, odd given he was normally very talkative and sweet. "But I'd been higher, before I fell. I'd gone all the way up to the First Keep, from the Broken Tower" He looked afraid that she was going to tell him off for that alone, but Ross remained silent. "I heard voices. A man and - and a lady. They didn't sound very happy, and I never see anyone up there, so I went closer to listen. They were talking about..." He screwed up his face, trying to remember exactly. "Father. They didn't like it that Father was going to be the Hand. They talked about other things, but I'm sorry, I really don't remember,"
"It's fine," Ross said, perhaps a little too snappishly, but her mind was whirring. "Carry on,"
"Then they went quiet, so I tried to have a look in the window," Bran continued. "They were... naked, and wrestling, I don't know what they were doing," Ross raised an eyebrow; this could potentially be very interesting if she found out who it was. And potentially an even bigger headache. "But then I made a noise and the lady saw me. She screamed, and I slipped trying to get away. I nearly fell but I caught the window ledge. They both pulled me up, but then they were arguing again. They seemed very scared, but I ran away. I suppose I was in such a hurry that I fell near the ground. I don't remember that bit either," There was a short silence
"Tell her who they were, Bran," Aileen prompted quietly then, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The boy bit his lip.
"The lady," He looked terrified. "She was the queen," Ross felt her own eyes widen, as Aileen gave her a hard look.
"And the man?" She kept her voice even, although a horrible idea was forming in her head. No, it couldn't be... She hates him now, he was with me that day... although for how long? Gods, I'll kill him if he went to her scarcely an hour after he was with me.
"He looked like a Lannister," The boy started. Surely he'd recognise the Kingslayer... And surely Jaime wouldn't have needed Cersei to help him lift a small boy up from a window; Bran was half the size of Ross herself and he lifted her easily. "And he was young." What counts as young? "Maybe Ren's age. I think he was one of the king's squires,"
Ross relaxed at that, and immediately felt an absurd stab of amusement. It seemed like young Lancel Lannister had taken the queen's fancy. She probably shouldn't have found the thought as funny as she did, given the seriousness of the situation and the fact that she was a grown woman over thirty years old, but she couldn't help it, and started to laugh. Cersei Lannister, the proud and beautiful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a year older than Ross herself, was fucking her fifteen year old cousin. Who, she hadn't failed to notice, looked like a poor shade of the queen's dear twin brother.
"Mother?" Aileen frowned at her, surprised, but Ross couldn't keep the amusement from her face, biting her lip before laughing again.
"Sorry," She forced her face straight, but for the first time in years wasn't entirely successful. "I shouldn't laugh, I just - " She broke off again, trying not to grin. Gods, she hadn't acted this much like a silly little girl since she was giggling with Lya in the Maester's lessons over anatomical drawings in books. Ross focused on thoughts of her sister, which quickly sobered her up. "Who else knows about this?"
"No one but us," Her daughter replied, still looking at her oddly. "Bran only remembered after everyone had left. He's kept it secret for months." Calculatingly, that was what was in her daughter's stare. Ross shot her a Look, and she quickly stopped.
"Good, let's keep it that way," She looked at Bran. "You did well remembering this. It's very important, but has to stay a secret for now. Don't even tell Robb, or Maester Luwin,"
"I won't," The boy nodded solemnly. "But Aunt Ross - is this why that man tried to kill me?"
"Most likely," She didn't see any point in trying to sugarcoat it. "The man did tell us he'd been hired by a golden-haired man in a cloak. Probably Lancel, Ren always said he was a cowardly little brat. You shouldn't worry though, he's in King's Landing now, and not brave enough to hire anyone else after the first put us on our guard," She remembered the bloody mess the assassin had been found in. "Just keep that wolf with you,"
Aileen took Bran away, and Ross leant back in the chair, thinking hard. Her lips twitched. It was immature, she would freely admit, especially given this could potentially turn into a nightmare situation if handled badly, but soon she was smirking to herself again at thoughts of Cersei.
She heard the long howl from far away, and somehow she knew before the guardsman opened his mouth what he was going to say.
"Lady Rosennis," The man said. "Your son, he's - " Ross was already on her feet, hurrying to the door, down the stairs and out into the courtyard, just as a tall, lean rider trotted through the gates, a rangy black direwolf at the horse's heels. Crow, who had spent the days since the wolves returned north skulking about the castle scaring servants, when he wasn't hunting in the Wolfswood with the other five, had clearly rejoined his master. The horse was remarkably un-skittish around the great beast, which was now the size of a small pony, though you could see the whites of the animal's eyes.
Ross didn't rush to greet her son, merely walked forward, smiling slightly. Even though Ren would hardly be the bearer of good news, it was nice to see him again after only a few months apart.
"Mother," He dismounted easily. The moment he touched the floor, the wolf pressed its head into his hand. Ren indulged it for a moment before giving her a brief one-armed hug and taking his horse's reins; as a bastard, he didn't expect the stableboys to take care of his horse for him. As he began leading the mare towards the stables, the direwolf loped away, reunion clearly complete, and Ross fell in step beside him. He's grown again. He had to be as tall as Jaime now. At the thought of Jaime she scowled.
"Have you heard any word of Lord Stark?" He asked.
"Another letter from Morganna arrived yesterday," She said. "Your uncle awoke six days after you left, he can walk with a crutch. I overestimated Robert's ability to hold a grudge. He's been reinstated as Hand," It was one of the rare times she saw Ren's face drop.
"They're staying in King's Landing? All of them?" She nodded. His expression told her all she needed to know about what he had to say. "Right," Her son's face set grimly. They both knew he couldn't say anything here, not with all these people, so Ross changed the subject.
"Morganna also asked after you," She said. "You left her rather confused,"
"I could hardly tell her to put this in a letter," He raised an eyebrow slightly. "With Ser Jaime gone, Pycelle would sift through every word with his wrinkled old fingers,"
"Ser Jaime," Ross scoffed slightly, the anger that was so near the surface these days beginning to rise. It didn't help that her son shared the eyes of the object of her irritation. "Everyone seems to have lost their senses at once. First Lady Catelyn goes tearing off south on a harebrained mission, and kidnaps Tyrion Lannister based on nothing but her own paranoia. Then Ned lies to the king that it was his idea, to protect his wife when she's nowhere near the city, and to top it off, good old Ser Jaime goes and attacks my brother in the streets in retribution," Her lip curled. "They all need their heads knocking together," Her son looked rather amused as he led his horse into a stall.
"It's a shame you didn't come south for that alone," He said, removing each of his bags from the horse's saddle, lowering his voice slightly. "I have got news, but it can wait," Until we're somewhere more private, went unsaid. They talked of nothing much of consequence after that as he untacked the horse. About the melee Ren had won - he showed her the gold dragons sewn into his jerkin, and she marvelled that he hadn't been robbed and left in a ditch with his throat slit - about how Morganna and the girls were faring in King's Landing, even about Ren's new horse. Ross had proclaimed the mare dull, to which her son had laughed and said he preferred reliability over horses who seemed to try their best to kill their rider.
It wasn't until they reached her chambers that Ren sat down and his smile dropped.
"Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not the king's children," He said straight away. Ross could only stare at him, silent for a long time.
"Please tell me you're not serious," Because every single implication of this was hitting her at once, and there was absolutely no way this turned out well for any of them. A cold feeling gripped her stomach, and got worse the more her son spoke. Jaime, what in hells have you done?
"That was what Jon Arryn was investigating. It's likely what he died for, if the queen found out," He said flatly. "And Lord Stark was being led down the same merry path, although he hadn't quite got there by the time I left. I'd hoped he'd leave before he worked it out," He frowned. "I was sure he'd leave," And now you know you can never rely on things to go as planned.
"What path?" Ross prompted, trying to work out how long it would take Ned to figure it out.
"The king's bastards are all black haired," Ren said. "There's a book, going back centuries. It shows that every single child with a Baratheon parent has black hair, no exceptions at all, including every time a Lannister married into the family. Loreon is living proof, as are the dozen more bastards scattered around the kingdoms. Lord Stark knows all of this, he just hasn't made the link between that and Cersei's children yet," Ross was silent for a moment.
"Bran remembered his fall," She said eventually, speaking carefully. "He slipped in his haste to get away from a window of the First Keep. Where he'd seen the queen, alone with one of the king's squires. Lancel," Her tone more than implied what the pair had been doing alone.
"Lancel?" Ren raised an eyebrow, a smile immediately twitching at his lips despite the dire situation.
"I laughed too, at first," Ross said darkly. "He's fifteen, too young for it to be of much consequence. At worst, everyone found out and Lancel and Cersei both lost their heads. No loss there, I'm sure you'll agree," Her son gave a short snort of agreement. "But this? This could start a war," And her brother, lawful and loyal to his friend until the end, was on the cusp of discovering that information. Ned wasn't stupid, just pigheaded stubborn; he would recognise that continuing the investigation would put him in danger, knew exactly what could happen, but would plough on regardless because it was the right thing to do. "What did you do with that book?"
"I had Morganna return it to Pycelle,"
"You should've got your Lizzie Lewis to knock it into the fire by mistake," She muttered, pausing for a moment before letting out a hollow laugh. "Do you know who the father of Cersei's children is?" He seemed to notice her odd tone, but answered anyway.
"I've had a lot of time to think about it," He said slowly, as she watched him closely. "It would have to be one of the Kingsguard, the queen wouldn't be left alone with anyone else but her close family. Selmy, no, too honourable, too old. Oakheart seems to want to follow in his footsteps, although he's comely enough; if he hadn't joined three years after Tommen was born, I'd suspect him. Blount, Trant, Moore and Greenfield, all too plain, the queen wouldn't risk it for them. There's no chance a girl who looks like Myrcella is the daughter of a man who looks like Boros Blount," Even Ross smiled a little at that, until she realised what he'd unwittingly said about his own half-sister, and her smile dropped. "Then there's Jaime, her brother. So I suppose it must be Oakheart's predecessor in the Kingsguard. If not him, then it could be practically anyone who managed to sneak past the guards. Maybe a cousin is more likely. Has she got any older than Lancel?"
"Several," Ross shook her head. "But it's not them,"
"You know who it is?" He asked her sharply. She didn't reply, staring at some point to the left of his head. "Mother?" She raised an eyebrow - that sounded more of a command than a mere prompt - but obliged anyway, because she'd have to at some point.
"I think you passed over one member of the Kingsguard too easily," He frowned.
"Greenfield? Moore? Oakheart's predecessor, a man so dull I can't even remember his name? Who?" She smiled humourlessly.
"Lannister," There was a thick silence.
"Did you forget the part about the queen being Jaime's twin sister?" Her son asked, highly skeptical. "Or are you expecting Edrick and Aileen to have a litter of bastard children at some point in the near future as well?"
"You can make jokes all you like," Ross leant back in her chair, staring at him. "Jaime Lannister loved his sister since they were children. She was the reason he joined the Kingsguard, so they could be together. Only Tywin was furious at Aerys stealing his heir and took her back to Casterly Rock. After the rebellion, she married Robert. They still loved each other, or he loved her, at any rate. I'm not sure when it went wrong, but it ended at least two or three years later. Apparently enough time for three bastard princelings to be born," Ren wasn't skeptical now, merely watched her with hard eyes.
"How do you know all of that?"
"I heard the words from his mouth," She smiled humourlessly. At that, a dark look crossed her son's face.
"Have you got no self respect?" Even in anger, her son had never spoken to her like that before. Cold and harsh, angry and judging. Shocked as she was, Ross was not one to be spoken to in such a way, least of all from her own son, whether he was a man grown or not.
"And what do you mean by that?" She replied, her tone immediately icy.
"I know that Jaime Lannister is my father," His reply initially chilled her, but then she realised exactly what his first comment had meant, and her fury only rose. "I've known for years. And it wasn't just the once, was it, wasn't just a desperate affair under Aerys Targaryen's nose? I've known that for years too, and honestly, I barely cared. But now you tell me he loved another woman - his own sister - all this time, even told you about it? And yet you still let him - " He broke off, biting his angry words and turning away for a second. "I thought you had more pride than that,"
There was another silence, worse than before. Ross could've slapped him, but she realised then he would likely reach out and stop her. He'd been stronger than her for a while, she knew that, but only now did it truly hit her. Her little boy was a man, a knight, with a sword and strength she'd never have, power she'd never have. Memories ran through her mind, of the noble Kingsguard guarding the door whilst Aerys raped her, of Jaime holding her back as her father burned and her brother died, of Roose Bolton's quiet but deadly words the night before their wedding.
"You don't want to hear the reasons I had at first," Her voice was colder, crueller, older than his, steady but clearly full of barely-restrained rage.
"Try me," He glared at her, and she gritted her teeth. Is that what you really want to hear, from your own mother's mouth? That it was a 'fuck you' to Aerys, a way that I could feel like my body was somewhat my own, a short time where I didn't have to think? No, you don't want to hear, and I don't want to tell you, because you have no idea what it feels like to be so powerless, and never will.
"No. You're barely more than a boy, and I am your mother," The last word was practically a snarl, and she knew he'd hate being called a boy. Good. "I don't have to justify myself to you, so I won't. I had hoped my son thought higher of me than a gratuitous whore with no self respect," She saw him wince a fraction at that, ever so slightly, and felt a vicious stab of satisfaction. "Yes, Jaime Lannister is your father. Would you have preferred being the son of Mad Aerys to the son of the Kingslayer? Because if you want to hear the honest truth, the chance of that was significantly more likely," She saw his jaw clench. "When you were born with dark hair and green eyes, I could've wept with relief," She was increasingly feeling like weeping now, remembering that little boy she had sat on her knee, whispered to when no one else was there, cradled to her body as she rode out of the sacked gates of King's Landing at long last.
She didn't weep, though. Of course she didn't.
"One of my happiest memories," Her voice softened slightly, too weary to argue more. "Is of holding you in my arms as I watched the last Targaryen king bleed out on the floor beneath the Iron Throne," There was a silence. Her son stared at her, and she met his green eyes. Jaime's eyes, if slightly more pale, but they reminded Ross of her own father then. No, that's not quite right.
Then he broke the stare, backed down and leant back in his chair, the fight leaving his eyes. She saw a flash of an apology there, which she knew he wouldn't voice. She realised then how travel-worn and exhausted he was. He must've ridden like the wind to make that journey in the time he did.
"I was there? When Aerys died?" He asked carefully. Ross was used to holding grudges that lasted decades, but with her children, she found herself uncharacteristically forgiving. Neither of them were ones for flowery apologies. Forgiveness came through actions, and he had already redeemed himself slightly for backing down and changing the subject.
"I never told you that?" Her voice had grown hoarse. Ren shook his head. "Then, yes. You were one of three people to see Aerys die, and you don't even remember it," She smiled faintly, and her son did too. There was a pause.
"I saw you," He said eventually. "With him, at Riverrun. That's how I knew. I barely remember anything from that time, but I remember that,"
"The tourney?" She was surprised. "You weren't even four years old,"
"Old enough to climb out of bed and be curious about a crack in the door," There was a silence. "Morganna wasn't born long after that,"
"She wasn't," Ross raised an eyebrow, her tone flat but her eyes all but saying he was right, and to shut his mouth about it. "She was also a very small baby, born eight months after I returned from Riverrun. She has dark hair and grey eyes, and she's beautiful like my sister Lyanna," That was a conversation for another time.
"Arya looks like Lyanna," Her son said, noting but ignoring the hint. "Morganna looks like the queen, with a longer face and sharper nose. That's why you didn't want her going south,"
"Speculate all you want," Ross said, not rising to the challenge. "It won't do anyone any good. You have enough to think about, now you know Joffrey is your half-brother," Ren looked vaguely disgusted by that, leaning back in his chair, and the look was so like Jaime she had to crack a faint smile, which soon fell. "And also the fact that the kingdom is on the edge of war, where peace depends on my brother keeping his honour in check,"
"Well we can't do anything from here," Ren said. She didn't disagree. "Any ravens sent to King's Landing now will be checked, and it's not like asking Tywin Lannister to just let this one go will do anyone any good," Ross snorted in agreement. "Do we tell Robb? He's the acting Lord of Winterfell. But short of calling the banners, what can he do either? Nothing,"
"We don't tell anyone," She said. "If Ned knows what Lord Arryn died for, he'll be on his guard, he's not an idiot, just a stubborn idealist. Cersei can't do anything openly against him, not with Robert as king. If Ned tells him the truth, Robert will kill Cersei, and possibly the children too. Tywin Lannister will go to war over it, for sure, but what allies does he have, really?"
"The Baratheons, through marriage, and they'll go to Robert of course," Ren replied. "Dorne hates him. The North and Riverlands don't trust him and would side with Robert, along with the Vale if it turns out Cersei killed Jon Arryn. The Reach will go to the highest bidder and whoever's most likely to win - inevitably the crown. Hells, even the Greyjoys wouldn't say no to a bit of pillaging the Westerlands,"
"Tywin's pride would drive him to ruin," Ross agreed. "He can't hope to win against six kingdoms,"
"That's our worst case, then," Her son looked amused. "A war that may destroy the west and Riverlands, which the North will surely be involved in but won't go anywhere past the Neck. Really, it could be worse," It was a dark joke, but Ross didn't laugh.
"Don't say that," It gave her a bad feeling. "When Rhaegar Targaryen gave my sister a crown of winter roses, everyone thought at the time that the worst thing to come out of it would be a few angry Dornishmen and Elia Martell's hurt feelings,"
The raven arrived a few days later, in the early morning. By nightfall, half the ravens in Winterfell's rookery had been sent flying.
The letter was written in Sansa's hand, but were doubtlessly the words of Cersei Lannister. Ross read it and everything else around her seemed to have become muffled and distant, drowned out by the ringing in her own ears. Just like last time, this is just like last time. Except the roles had changed. Ned was the one arrested in King's Landing. Ross was in Winterfell. The hostages now were her own daughter, her two young nieces. And that terrified her more than Aerys ever had.
