For The Sake of the Realm

by razorpawofdestruction96

Robert Baratheon dies at the Battle of the Trident by the poisoned spears of Dorne. Thus Eddard Stark, now the lone wolf in the South. Brings the harsh cold of winter from his heart into the South. Bringing justice for his Father and elder brother and making the realm vow to his nephew Gaemon I Targaryen, once a man of another world reincarnated into a prince.

2. Prelude: The Hour of the Silent Wolf

I thank you all for your Likes and your REVIEWS on this story, for your support. A massive credit I have to give to KrimzonStriker And many other authors who made Regent Ned stories for the massive inspiration and also orientation on how to direct Eddard and be able to pass the torch and make a more believable (Albeit still a little farfetched, but believable enough) transition between the GOT Eddard Stark to the one I shall portray. This concludes the two-part Overture of this story. Next time Ch. 1 will fully start with Viserys's, Rhaenys's and Gaemon's P.O.V.'s and from there the Stark Family and so on.

I'll try to update more frequently as time allows me. I'm enjoying this setting, as I also update my other stories.

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Highgarden

Three-Days before the Sack

Eddard Stark, like all men before him, underestimated the cunning of Olenna Tyrell, even as he cried for the unscrupulous man whore that was Robert Baratheon. Thank the seven he fell. Mourning alongside the rebels for loosing the great fighter. Dark wings made their way across the rolling hills of the Reach. Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull and the man who had to carry upon his shoulder the title of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard of the most shameful and maddest of Targaryen Kings. He was never given the chance to honor himself in the battlefield during Robert's Rebellion. And never did such deadly warrior, renowned across the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, do battle for King Aerys or his son Prince Rhaegar. Instead, he stood guard at a tower in the Dornish Marches. Among the salt of the desert sands. In the smoke of the worst Civil War Westeros has met since the Dance of Dragons. Nearby the beautiful virgin desert seas.

His oath was to a mere embryo at the time, a tiny life that formed inside the Winter Rose's belly. To a Song so beautiful that could even make seasoned warriors cry. To Prince Rhaegar's Song of Ice and Fire.

It was thanks to Ser Gerold, that the secret the North hoped to be concealed forever was carried away from the tower where a pregnant Lyanna Stark gave birth. Into the hands of the woman known as the Queen of Thorns, the Last Rose of Highgarden. Ser Gerold's family, the Hightowers of Oldtown. Are one of the most powerful houses in the Kingdom of the Reach. And so as a youth, he came to know the children of many powerful families of the Reach.

Randyll Tarly of Hornhill, unmatched in Military Strategy.

Axell and Alester Florent, brothers of a single mind.

Lord Luthor Tyrell, one of the few men who could actually back up the tales of his bedroom conquests. And the cheerful Rongar Redwyne, now dead, his son Paxter succeeding him as Lord of the Arbor; and Rongar's sister, Olenna Redwyne.

All these combined chain reactions, were not what saw the last written words of Ser Gerold Hightower arriving in the hands of his once friend Olenna. It was not some grand maneuver of the Great Game to benefit his house, not a plea of help. The final straw that would ensure House Targaryen's secret never stayed hidden arose from something far more mundane than that.

The simple fact that Ser Gerold Hightower had not risen to the Rank of Lord Commander by being an idiot.

He was a good military tactician, but above all, a good man. Or at least, he had once believed himself to be. Before he had been faced with the horrible choice of staying true to his vows. Before Duskendale, before Aerys II went from 'The Unlikely's Grandson' to The Mad King. Gerold, Barristan, Oswell and Arthur would care for Queen Rhaella and keep the children far away from Aerys's madness as possible. For nothing it was. Prince Rhaegar fell, the Targaryen dynasty in ruins, and Gerold knew in his heart that had he been there. In that very specific moment in time, things would've been different. But Ser Gerold kept to his vow and now obeyed the Princess Dowager's command to get to King's Landing to attempt to save Rhaegar's daughter.

Gerold sourly knew that his odds of survival were minimal. The Usurper had men that the Mad King made sure were his enemies. And sadly, the Hightower Knight wasn't getting any younger. So, a letter each of the Kingsguard Sent, his brothers and himself. Oswell's raven for his brother was shot down over the Trident, lost in the Green Fork. Ser Arthur's raven sent to his sister Ashara was returned as a wet nurse, Wylla. Ser Barristan's was shot down by the Baratheon's at the Stormlands, such letter lost in the Shipbreaker's Bay.

That left one.

A raven that reached Lady Olenna Tyrell. A woman who was warned of King Aerys's failing health. The power accumulated by Tywin Lannister and his sycophants. And the tragedy of Prince Aegon's stillbirth. And the plot of using a fake Prince Aegon to fool the Kingdoms and then replace him with the True Aegon from another Woman's womb. A plot that was agreed by Elia after the Maester had officially declared that Princess Elia Martell's next birth would take her life and that of the child. He confided in the woman the oddness he found in Princess Lyanna and the Northern Culture in General. Speaking of The Old Gods, the Children of the Forest who acted as Septons of the Old Gods, the clear ignorance of andal faith above The Neck and the tales about Giants, Children of the Forest and First Men of the North overcoming Winter. Of women fighting with swords and spears. And Princess Lyanna being the nearest thing to a Visenya the Kingdoms have ever seen.

mnnnnnnnIt was thanks to him that House Targaryen would survive. As news spread of the marching of the Rebel forces lead by Eddard Stark, at the moment with the authority of a ruling Monarch.

No doubt soon, the news of his secret nephew would arrive. Which gave her dominance in the new game to be played; yet she faltered. While the Targaryen were still indirect family to the young prince; he was also Stark Blooded. The thought of a Stark in the Iron Throne seemed, fascinating and also frightening, their customs differed from their southron ones. She had the Maester retrieve anything and everything about a Stark being a member of the Small Council or having the political power of the Iron Throne. And Lomys took some damn time into finding information, but the man finally found it; few were tomes of general history. She ditched them away and found the source.

Cregan Stark 'The Old Wolf'.

Two days ago since she read about such obscure character in the history of Westeros; The Book was written by a Maester of Dragonstone, expected. Apparently lately the historical recall of events from the Dance of Dragons to more recent history has two different versions. The book was quite specific, it shared some background witheven a Northern Maester's information. It spoke of the Wolf's lineage and his war to take over the North. A trial he held for daring to think on Kinslaying and the Pact of Ice and Fire.

"Lomys!" She hollered to the Maester and the man took his time but arrived finally and she pointed her finger to the words there.

"What is this Pact? Why does it goes from this, to detailing the March of the men which clearly no one gives a shite about. What did Jacaerys Velaryon son of Rhaenyra Targaryen agreed with Cregan Stark?" This made the Maester scratch the back of his head.
"I'm sorry my Lady, but I tried to find anything on this pact in Highgarden's Library, even with the help of the Citadel and nothing was found. All books that mention it, do not specify and those of the time have torn pages." She growled, Olenna Tyrell hated mysteries.

"We have to find anything on this Lomys. Eddard Stark now has the authority of a King, we're on the losing side. And you're telling me that the Stark and the Targaryen have made a pact, and no one in westeros knows of it anymore? I don't care who you have to call. I want information on this, whatever you get." The Maester nodded and with shaky hands took the book and turned around, to go and search more about the legendary pact. From her chair, she could see the courtyard of Highgarden, her Grandson Garlan training harshly.

'Whatever it takes. We shall grow strong.'

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Prelude

Their ship, Conquering Storm set sail fast from the dornish seas onto the north. All supplies needed for a long voyage were gathered into its holds and all personal baggage had been moved into waiting cabins onboard. While a hand-picked and trusted crew from House Dayne prepared their vessel for departure, Ned's group on the docks bid farewell to their hosts. The sight of his nothern cohorts heartily throwing arms around the shoulders of their dornish counterparts and engaging in good-natured ribbing over last night's events, brought a smile to his lips. As the sight of Arthur, Ashara, Auron and their younger sister Allyra standing on the wharves, hugging each other one last time before saying their private goodbyes.

Ashara held onto her bastard son, Brandon's bastard son. Enough to cause many discomfort in-between his northern men. Once again he had to twist his arm and welcome Ashara, as he cursed himself internally for his treacherous thoughts. He's after all a married man with a son he hopes to have in his arms very soon. Once more he could only hang his head, feeling himself disconnected from his family even more than what he was before. With Gaemon in his arms he turned around and took peace in the silent retreat which was the cabin of the ship, to write one last raven, a northern Raven which knew the path back home to winterfell. He hasn't forgotten a single second about his only leftover brother and missing link, the one he cannot ever fail to.

"Ben." He whispered, as he held back the tears.

His missing little brother was shouldering the north through the seasons and apparently, he'll have to once more bend his brother against his desires and pit him to lead the North while he focuses in his nephew's regency in the south. Was this why everything happened the way it had to be? Why he was sent to Jon Arryn's arms in the Eyrie? His words to the host were polite and court. He made sure to let Lord Auron be aware of his thankfulness for his hospitality and bidding him, his wife and Lady Allyria the farewell. With the promise to look after Arthur and Ashara well, although he half-joked it would likely be the other way around more often than not, to which everyone grinned and wished him well on his journey. After a private yet emotional conversation with Ashara, he once more realized he could only dourly endure through the pain in his heart. He made sure to write his brother about ever single thing that has happened. And even his intentions to honor his sister's body by burying her body into the crypts of Winterfell, while having her maternal organs incinerated and arranged into a beautiful urn that will be shipped to Dragonstone and be buried to Rhaegar's side.

As their ship casted off, making their way through the Torrentine and into the open mouth of the Summer Sea. The weather was pleasantly calm and they would likely make good time before stopping in Old Town to resupply. From there, it would be a straight voyage past the sunset sea and up along the length of the Mander. He chose to leave Gaemon's care to the Maids and Ashara, who was also caring after Brandon's bastard son Cregan. His company would be far from idle, the big vessel held quite good the numbers of the Northern Army and following was a second ship with the leftovers not capable of manning the first ship. It was quite a surprising ordeal to see Northmen learning the ways of Dornish sailors so fast.

"So Stark. After you've read her will, all the papers. The question remains, what do you plan to do?" After emerging from the cabin and now in the main dock, his hands resting on the edge as he stared into the vast sea. Ser Arthur Dayne's question remained in his head. "I don't know." He mustered courage to realize he didn't know what else to do. He was walking a blind path, he was the second son of a Northern Lord, he hardly ever knew the ways of the court in the South. "The crown should pass to Stannis since the Baratheon's won the throne, however Robert died before he could even be crowned."

"Lord Stark." Ser Gerold Hightower approached them both and he received the knight. "I have a contact in the Starry Sept, he's willing to make a crowning ceremony for our prince in the eyes of the Seven." He scratched his cheek and nodded, being foreign to the customs of the south, he was aware that once his nephew was crowned, there was no way his fate could ever be separated from that of the Iron Throne's. He gave a wistful nod. "I…I'll send a message for Benjen to have close friends of our family come to the capital and…and bless my nephew in the eyes of the Old Gods." He replied moderately earning the estranged stare from both Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold. He dimly smiled at his nephew, for the first time in the history of westeros, two different cultures would caress each other. The North has always been isolationist in its policies regarding the south and the Targaryen rule. The Stark remained always neutral to all conflicts except the Dance of the Dragons; no southerner ever knew of the deep rooted culture of the First Men in the north, where the andals never dared to touch. Of the magic that still lingered with power in the north, nor of the threat that harassed them that the wall prevented. He gripped the hilt of Ice, the very same blade of the Night King. His very armor the very same icy armor of that of the Night King, which has protected him from death.

A blessing and a reminder of their only true enemy.

The days were far from duller in the Conquering Storm. They would take turns with one another out on the deck, the Northerners eager to test themselves against the famous kingsguard members. Oftentimes the crewmen would end up joining them, taking part in-between their shifts, while also placing wages on various matches. He came out few times as well with Ice in hand. The blade causing a few eyebrows to rise, after all, it wasn't usual to have a ice-bladed blade be as effective as steel. He ended up receiving helpful tips on his sword stance, forms and techniques, from Ser Arthur and many others. It felt disconcerting just how well northerners and dornish got along so well, when despite a few moments ago they were trying to decapitate each other for real, instead of simply pretending to, not long ago. Yet he understood the motive behind it, a Northern prince has been born, and Dorne was the first to open its arms to him.

Days followed, Wylla and the other ladies would join them outside carrying Gaemon for some sunshine and fresh air. Attempting to calm the wails and protests as the ship didn't ceased from rocking. Surprisingly, the rhythm of the clashing sounds from their swords actually lulled the lad into a semblance of contentment.

Yet the Swords Practice was only a secondary concern for the Lord of the North. It was more of a stress relief than a concern, before he set himself back to work on his main focus. Deep down in the vessel's holds, Eddard Stark spent the majority of his days and nights, usually with one or more Kingsguard, writing down notes while listening to their insights and advice on matters regarding the power dynamics of the royal court, which they had learned over their long years of service in the capital under Aerys. While at the same time he took his time to gather each and every Lord or Heir of Northern families that came with him to hear their grievances and what they wished to have if they had resource to have it. He wasn't foolish, he knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity; his sworn Lords had many grievances. Jeor and Maege had concern with the Ironborn Raids, Galbart Glover spoke much of the same in line with Jeor, The Greatjon Umber instead showed concern in the constant reports of Night Brothers being lost in the rangings in the far north. Surprisingly William Dustin and Ser Mark Ryswell had few grievances to say and instead gave their full blessings to Gaemon. "Lord Eddard." Rickard Karstark stated firmly to his far-cousin Eddard whom greeted him with respect. In Eddard's hastily arranged room/solar he spoke. "First of all, I offer my condolences for Lady Lyanna's death."

And he appreciated Rickard's concerns and condolences, he easily smiled and went on.

"I have a question for you Eddard. Who do you intend to marry your son and heir of winterfell to?" He asked to him as he bit his lip, he once more was reminded of his wife and his heir and son in the riverlands.

"Or do you intend for Brandon's bastard to take Winterfell?" Rickard asked with a reserved glance to him as he shook his head. "Ashara was very clear with me in stance of her wishes to her son. Ashara wishes to remain near Arthur and wants Cregan to be his own man. He was given the name Dayne therefore in all formalities, he cannot take winterfell since they weren't married in the eyes of the Old Gods nor did Brandon ever acknowledged Cregan as his son." He commented back which earned a stiff nod from Rickard.

"You realize that your son cannot marry in the south."

Eddard nodded with responsibility as he wore a grim face, it was a truth. His marriage to Catelyn was something that the north would tolerate, yet twice into the south was something his sworn Lords wouldn't tolerate. He therefore realized what was in play here. "I wish for your son to be squired in Karhold." He spoke his part, and certainly Eddard was surprised. Regardless it was something he could agree on, his son's stay in the south will be short. A neccesity since his son had to be more in touch with the northern lands he would one day rule. Yes he'll have his time with Gaemon in the Red Keep however it was even more important for his son to be of the North, a true stark. He gave a nod.

"It shall be done, my son shall squire in Karhold when he's of apt age to hold a blade and when he has bonded with Gaemon."

He deeply thought about Gaemon squiring for a brief time in the north, to learn of his northern roots.

'I'll have to search deeper for a good place to squire Gaemon.' He thought deeply as Lord Rickard was dismissed, Wyman was more of a simple man and didn't had that much of interests.

His utmost concern were the Reach and Dorne, two of the three Kingdoms Ned was most concerned about. Afterwards, he spent hours lying awake in his cot, constantly going over his notes while continuing to write and then rewrite.

In his papers he studied everything; his relationship with his sworn Lords, Catelyn's house, the Riverlands; his Regency and the other kingdoms. More often times than not he would scratch his head and massage his forehead at the headache he had. All while deep inside him a part of him demanded blood, and pondered on the Justice his brother and sister deserved. He also counted on that, some heads will have to roll. There was also the prospect of his little brother Benjen who he has sent a letter that although loudly not saying it, he implied that he'll have to occupy the Seat of Winterfell as Lord Stark and Warden of the North while he protects Gaemon in the south until he's of age and well taught to occupy the Iron Throne.

Thus the days on the Conquering Storm went by, in between him spending time with Gaemon or everyone onboard swapping stories over drinks and meals, and planning.

Lord Stark was a good stern planner, in his mind before Gaemon's regency could start, there had to be a mark in history. While he didn't liked it, it was for the best that another Hour of the Wolf Happens. He took his time in Starfall to read books about the Historical Recollection of the Hour of the Wolf made by Cregan Stark. And he realized he'll have to make his own. There could be nothing less. All while he sought out the opinions from the others, contemplating options, even arguing before reluctantly conceding to their points or finding a middle ground.

His northerners didn't hesitate to swear themselves to this new cause, all Lords in unison also joining the fray. After all, it was the first time in history a prince would be of Stark blood and Northern in origin. Even Wylla, Ashara and Gaemon's other nursemaids had been incredibly supportive, taking care of every minute chore while constantly checking in on his own well-being. For a time, he enjoyed the peace while it lasted. It all went down too quick however, after less than two weeks of sail had gone by and already Oldtown's docks were near. As the Kingsguard and his Northerners dressed plainly to be hidden in plain sight, he dressed plainly too.

Near the deck Ser Gerold immediately gestured for them to follow; Howland Reed and the Crannogmen using the shadows and tightest alleys to make themselves unnoticeable and hear the whispers told by the townsfolk. He sent the ladies to shop at nearby markets, taking Gaemon in his arms, as he stayed behind and played with his nephew. While lifting the lad up high above his head, much to his nephew's delight.

He felt a brief pang of regret, wondering if his wife Lady Catelyn was doing the same with their own son right now. When the ladies returned to the docks, they regarded their visit to the famous Starry Sept, with its magnificent edification. He truly didn't cared however he payed attention at the mention of how Gaemon hadn't had a proper naming ceremony. Something Prince Rhaegar had promised in front of Lyanna. He would've been adamant in even approaching his nephew to a Sept. But the stern urging and reassurances from Ser Gerold Hightower of a trusted septon in mind who could perform the ceremony in private. Caused him to concede realizing that the Sept of Baelor had too much refugees from the sack, therefore he agreed to mount a hasty plan.

---

Eddard I

The Plan was a success; Gaemon was sworn and had the seven oils poured across his forehead. Being this the first and most strangest royal naming in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Within those hallowed halls empty of all witnesses save for a group of worshippers of the Old Gods, a few lowborn nursemaids bawling worse than baby Gaemon ever had on their journey. A dornish lady and three members of the kingsguard dressed in frumpy leather garbs now wet with tears.

After awkwardly offering to comfort those weeping ladies. And Gaemon was given the blessing of the Seven and holding him once more, they hastily retreated back into the ship through the back entrance tunnel that lead into an inconspicuous alleyway, found by Howland Reed himself. Arriving just before their ship's departure, they went aboard and sailed before the final prayer bells had sounded.

The brief respite of the journey allowed him and all his cohorts a chance to go over all the information they've gathered about the current state of affairs of the realm. Hardly anything was new, except for the fact of the arrival to Kingslanding with Robert's own Corpse. Jon Arryn had heeded his message to gather all the Lords in Kingslanding. There was a common silence with everyone about the death of Robert, panic and fear of what would be.

Yet he chose to meditate on all what was told and fall back on all previous routines he had on the ship.

'I cannot distract myself. Not now.' He realized that his life was in the line. As They passed by the coast of the reach, the morning sun assaulted with its heat and he could see the light creep from a window. A few days ago they passed by the Shield Islands, which were repairing themselves from an Ironborn attack. He scowled in disgust as he massaged his forehead, the Iron Islanders had blatant opportunism. He didn't realized that the Greyjoy had declared for the rebellion until he made Mace Tyrell lower the banners in Storm's End, asking for recompense for the information told. Of course he shoved that to Robert and told him to go to Kingslanding and speak on it if he wished to. That moment still too upset with Robert to even muster anything else. It was now moment to settle down and realize something.

'All the shit Robert had to clean will now be shoved upon me.' He cursed under his breath in a whisper. If this was Lyanna's way to humor him, she got the last laugh. He emerged from his ship to see they were passing by Highgarden.

"Beautiful sight from afar, ain't it?" Ser Gerold replied and he shrugged.

"Too flowery for my tastes Ser."

"We'll arrive to Tumbleton in three days, my Lord." Lord William Dustin settled and he nodded, it was expected that their journey would end. He didn't realized it would've been too soon. He swallowed. Slowly however he can see far away imagining the land they'll dock at soon, from there they'll take north to the Goldroad, then they'll head east to make a long trek back to King's Landing. And from there…

'Destiny.' He thought with effort, no doubt Jon Arryn will wait for him in King's Landing.

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Razorpaw of Destruction presents…

The Hour of the Silent Wolf

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Tumbleton 283 A.C.

It was a sharp great morning of summer, the birds graced the docks of Tumbleton. For over sixty years I've never felt this beautiful summer not have been able to see the red keep ever since I had to give it a goodbye after I was with Bloodraven's Honor Guard. Poor beautiful Red Keep, you've been witness to so many tragedies, and my family. My poor family has been famished and left only in shambles after another Civil War. Yet this one caused by a Mad King, I came alongside Uelin, the Child of the Forest of the Stark of Winterfell, a new one named Utumno was sent to them. Yet nothing prepared me for the biggest shock of my life. Before the ship departed, a man approached us and boarded the ship alone. When he removed his hood it revealed before me the face of my half-granduncle Brynden Rivers. I, I cried in his shoulder pleading forgiveness and mercy for allowing our family to fall so deep into disgrace. For neglecting so many calls and staying so true to my vows that I gave my family instead. In his arms I was received and he comforted me.

He gave me empathy, something which allowed my aged heart to feel satisfied.

The vessel we took from Eastwatch to King's Landing was a Fast Vessel of the Forest Children, alongside my honor guard came Wun Wun, a good friend of the Starks. A Giant sent by Mag the Mighty as a favor asked by the Three-Eyed Raven himself to protect the Magnar of the North. Stane Skagstark lord of the Skagstark family of Skagos also came with us with a retinue of 25,000 Skagosi men whom were ready to die in battle for their Lord Stark. Being in the Night's Watch allowed me to receive tutelage by a Child of the Forest, in my years I've grown blind yet at the same time my warging powers allowed me to skinchange with a raven, that ever since then has been by my side and been my eyes.

"Nephew." Brynden Rivers spoke firmly as he gestured for me to approach him, as I did so, from his bag he took out a dragon egg. It had white and green swirls, my hands trembled as I realized which dragon egg this was.

"Egg." I spoke out of breath, breathlessly as I touched it. It was so different staring from a crow's eyes to life, than to actually feel it. This egg was given to my dear brother, in the cradle.

"A big change is coming; for westeros and for House Targaryen. Our family has been fractured far too long."

"Lord Benjen said in his letter that Lord Eddard wrote to my grandniece. Perhaps it'll be good to write her too." With a nod Brynden also offered his own letter, although he was a bastard and not of the main line. It didn't meant he wasn't a Targaryen. Nor that his efforts wouldn't not be now in favor of his family.

To my Grand-niece I offered wise words of temperance and strength, I went out of my way to speak about my Great-Grand-Nephew Gaemon and the words that my own Lord Father Maekar told me days before his death.

Aemon I

A Targaryen alone in the World is a Terrible Thing.

Maester Aemon Targaryen stared at the docks of tumbleton, his family met many tragedies in this place. It wasn't simply fate which allowed them to be in this place, many of his contemporaries always thought some places had some strong magical presence if ever exposed to Targaryen blood. He didn't doubt it but he didn't clearly scream it.

"To believe that my family was left in this mess." Brynden Rivers groaned as his fists tightened.

He wasn't any younger but he didn't looked as old as he does. He feared treading or asking things he shouldn't thus he chose to refrain and maintain himself far from the topic of his age. His uncle reminds him of an eyepatch-less Prince Aemond of the Dance of Dragons.

"Have they ever told you that you look like Prince Aemond's depictions uncle?"

This sparked the interest of the Bloodraven whom smirked.

"Prince Aemond, huh?" He wondered also too, the One-eyed prince.

Though circumstances in which they lost each their eye were very, very different. As a fleet of three ships approached the docks, he could clearly see the Direwolf sigil. With that in mind he took his cane and walked the plank, his uncle Brynden following after him. Having been long ago declared dead by the night's watch he clearly had no motives to stay in it and feeling his votes to House Targaryen once more renewed. He felt the need to wear the same cloths he wore long ago during his Blackfyre rebellions. To be more precisely his armor, a long-sword styled after Darksister and his quiver, arrows and bow. As the bustling activity of the place maintained many occupied, the young Stark Lord bought horses for his northern Lords and various others to ride and be able to bear through the land easier and be of a faster transport. As he descended the plank of his ship, they received him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Lord Stark." He received the man who stared back at him and nodded slowly.

"You might've not known me but I used to be the Maester of the Night's Watch. My name is Aemon Taragaryen, son of Maekar I and I was sent here by your Young Brother Benjen at his behest to be of counsel and advice to you and if possible to serve my youngest family member as his wise Grandmaester." He introduced himself with a bow which caused the Stark Lord to widen his eyes.

"By the old Gods. You must be at least a Hundred." The man theorized.

"Eighty-Five to be precise my Lord." He leaned forth using his cane as his lips held a smile.

Eighty-five years of serving the realm and never did he once has faltered in his servitude.

"Of the things I can say Lord Stark is that it is hard to be old. Yet as life goes on alternatives are presented to us, thanks to the Children of the Forest I managed to recuperate a semblance of my sight and read books once again. Such incidents can cause a man to feel, youthful again." The Old Dragon maester could only muse with a smile on his lips.

"The power of the Old Gods is something to respect after all. I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Brynden Rivers, however nowadays I'm remembered as Bloodraven; the thousand eyes and one." He removed his hood to make his epic entrance causing many to widen their eyes in shock at the sight of another of their family's legends. A bastard but a legend nonetheless. It seems that even in their family's bastards the same principle applies, the same principle King Jaehaerys I always said. There is always a coin in each Targaryen and the gods and the world stop their breath to see where it falls. Madness and Greatness are just two sides of the same coin.

"You're the Bloodraven. You single-handedly stopped Four Blackfyre Rebellions. The Best Hand of the King the Targaryen had ever had; you served under Three of our Kings." Ser Gerold Hightower was the first to speak in amazement being face to face with the ancient Targaryen Bastard who made legend by ruling through many crisis the realm had.

Though nowadays most remember only the Blackfyre rebellions, at least those that fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Many wonder if the War of the Ninepenny Kings would've happened if instead of Ormund Baratheon the realm gave one last chance to Brynden Rivers. Of course, most elder warriors nowadays whom were once youngsters during the days of the last blackfyre rebellion were oblivious of the faults and ruthlessness in which Brynden Rivers ruled. His shadow made Tywin Lannister's seem as a house cat's.

He of course was older than most warriors or people here, he knew his uncle wasn't without faults. He left Dagon Greyjoy reap and sow the realm at the cost of many lives during his reign as Hand of the King of Aerys I. However one doesn't takes count that in those days the Blackfyre threat was still something that actively harassed the heart of the realm. He lived those days in the realm yet to be dismissed to the Wall. His uncle wasn't a perfect hand of the king but he was an excellent one to keep order and in the times that demanded him to act he did so without any hesitation.

"I'm not a perfect man; whatever was left of my legend died when I gave my life to bond myself with a tree beyond the wall. I returned to consciousness after I saw tragedy. It was far too late…If a shadow seeking redemption is useful. Then I'll be glad to help my royal nephew's causes Lord Stark." All he received was a nod from a shocked young Eddard whom gestured them to buy each a horse as the Skagosi clans and Wun Wun introduced and pledged themsleves to Lord Stark.

"They named him Gaemon Uncle, after our ancestor the Glorious. One of the Greatest Lords our family has ever had during the Century of the Blood. Yet no king has ever been given his namesake." He spared a glance to his great-grandnephew.

"Too many Aegons anyway." As Brynden wore his hood once more he spared his lips a tiny curve upwards in amusement. It was perhaps for the best to instead just stand his ground. As all rode their horses, Lord Eddard Stark lead them.

---

King's Landing

Brynden Rivers I

The western outskirts of the city were barely seen with the sunset. Weeks of constant riding on horses and having very few little stops got them to arrive on time to the big city. And he wasn't that amused to be greeted by the teeming masses of tents, thousand of armed men meandering about. Keeping their weapons sharp or playing games and getting drunk, all underneath colored bolts of cloth on piles, flapping away as far as the eye could see. He could read the intentions of all the Lords here, they were gathering their weapons and ready themselves to fight any enemy that might be between them or in the city. Yet nothing proved to be just as shameful as to see a Targaryen Banner on the floor with rubble and dirt on it. The emblem of the house he tried to wear so proudly and get as near as he could, be stomped and spitted at so easily. His horse stopped as he lightly pulled the reins, he descended and took the flag, he cared less for the progression that went on.

His flag was an albino dragon, this was of a red dragon. Dragons stomped and humiliated regardless of their color, made him feel…livid and offended. Folding the banner neatly he went back to his horse and followed after the procession once more.

All he could see were the crimson banners of House Lannister that hung predominantly of them all. If he last remembered Tytos Lannister was the heir of House Lannister back in his time. After Tion Lannister died in the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion; if he heard rumors then this must be Tywin Lannister, Tytos's firstborn son. It seems that Lannister troops were allowed inside the city, so there goes the decadent city watch.

'Holding a capital hostage…' He frowned. Lord Stark was clever by circling around the host of the Westerlands to the northern end of the city instead, that way they would prevent meeting the Lannisters. So they seem to have grown in influence from what he remembered, though Gold buys many things but not a dragon's power.

"Even Golden Dragons can melt when met in true dragonfire."

He offered his wise words of wisdom and also courage to Lord Stark and all his men even his eldest nephew Aemon whom was uncomfortable around Lannister banners. Even Aegon II who met in battle against Rhaenys didn't resisted the fires of Maelys, he had half of his face melted.

And perhaps he thought of the Gods irony and fate, how it always ends when Targaryen meets a Targaryen in battle. It always ends in tragedy, death and sadness spread through the realm. It's as if their ancestors weep and cry out for them to stop their squabbles, as if the very Conqueror cries out towards them. He's a Kinslayer as Aemond was, he wasn't going to lie. He used sorcery to kill Daemon and his sons, and made sure to kill each and every Blackfire in the realm to leave nothing of them anymore. Now, he faces the worst challenge yet in his life. When the realm he sought out to protect rebelled against his family and killed. Even daring to kill the children. THE CHILDREN! Something he thinks is unforgiveable. Nothing like that has been done since Blood and Cheese in the Dance of the Dragons. His fists tightened, his heart although blackwood was in pure Targaryen fire of anger.

Within an hour, they found themsleves in between a motely grouping of Valemen and Stormlanders, doing much the same as their Westermen counterparts. Yet as he rode he felt even more guilt in his conscious, being aware that it shouldn't be Eddard Stark the one he should be talking to but to his nephew Gaemon who can give him back his wings so that this Albino dragon who committed so many mistakes could be made free.

'I hope that my nephew Gaemon has forgiveness in his kind heart.' He thought absent-minded and followed after Lord Stark. As they marked an open open pathway strictly under northern banners Eddard Stark and themselves carefully made their way down from their hilltop vantage towards their encampment. Then they were stopped at a check-point to identify themselves. Only the lord needed to throw back the hood to make the sentries give them all entrance, once in safe territory the Stark Lord handed out orders to his followers. One went ahead towards the center of the camp as the personal Guard of the Stark was fathered. As they circled around the camp's periphery avoiding as much contact as possible,, making their way through the entrance of the Old Gate.

Over fifty Stark Guardsmen arrived with the man at the head, ready to escort them. Announcing themselves at the gatehouse to the city watch, who let them through. He truly missed this sight for almost six decades being outside of this world, it felt strange being back once again. A new court, a new life and a new motive to fight. This time not for the realm but, for his family. Once dismounting, they all handed their reins to the respecting haggard stable hand, as the Lord handed off orders. First the one to leave was Ser Gerold Hightower to go and get Ser Barristan Selmy.

Hmmm the name was familiar but he didn't remembered. Then sending someone to find Jon Arryn. It felt nice to see House Arryn as loyal as always to the causes of the Crown. Ser Arthur, Wylla and Lady Ashara then took young Gaemon to be cleaned, they complied. His nephew Aemon chose to follow after this Ser Arthur Dayne. Feeling kinship with their family after all.

He followed with the rest to rush to the main entrance, the Inner keep of Maegor's Holdfast. He navigated the walls of the Red Keep expertly, hardly anything changed ever since his banishment in 233.

This being the 283, fifty years ago.

Once inside the King's private chambers, he noted the absence of any destruction here, he snorted. Of course it would've been unobstructed. Any military strategist and genius would've left that intact for study later or smuggle the information out to use in the future as advantage. Being led against the hall, lining themselves against it, he followed the Lord Stark inside. This he was reminded was Aerys I office long ago where they discussed many things and where Aerys would agree or disagree with each decision he took. This brought many fond memories of his time as a Hand to King Aerys I and his most passionate days with his paramour Shiera Seastar.

'I hope you're well wherever you are.' He pursed his lips slightly as he approached to the window and breathed out, as if to perhaps send a kiss to her, beyond the world of the living to show her his love. If she cold ever hear him that is.

"Anything interesting?" Lord Eddard stark asked once back inside as he rose an eyebrow.

"It was in this very hall where King Aerys I and I many times discussed the matters of the realm as Hand and King. He was too much studious to lead the realm, yet he tried his best. A fitting king yet unfitting for the time." Eddard mused about the Bloodraven and his knowledge of past kings.

"Was he mad?"

"On the contrary he was too passive when the world demanded action from him. He, entrusted the ruling of the realm to me fully. In the years where my father's mistakes fell upon the realm."

"And Ser Barristan Selmy ended them all in the swift swing of his blade." Eddard stark complimented the man.

"He did?"

"Aye, he killed the last Blackfyre. Maelys the Monstrous in the name of King Jahaerys II. He was given a white cape for such feat." He furrowed his brows and caressed his chin.

"Then I'll have to meet this knight and thank him for the service he has done to House Targaryen as a whole. He might not realize it, but he has healed the realm and served it splendidly, greater than any men of my time. Except mayhaps Ser Duncan the Tall. Gods keep him." He turned around and steps were heard.

"Indeed Gods keep him."

"Do you wish me to be here to protect you Lord Regent?" Bloodraven inquired on what he'll himself do, to which the now told Lord Regent could only grimace as he closed his eyes and stared to his palms.

"You're here for my nephew more than I."

"You're my nephew's uncle as I am. We both are merely men, trying to protect what is left of our family, what the gods left us in this plane." He offered his justification for his presence in all this affair.

"The legends said you were a spymaster. You gave the realm hope against the Blackfyre's. I think you might serve our Nephew well by being his personal Master of Whispers, his shadow all over the realm. I am aware I have to keep Varys, however. I prefer someone who I am aware is in for the family than someone who's in for the realm."

A sharp nod he retreated from the room clinging to the shadows and disappearing from the world around him. It was time for the realm to know the Bloodraven has returned. His lips curled lightly upwards, he felt it once again in his chest. A fire in the dark. And this time, nothing will stop it from being alight.

A trolley carrying a bottle of Arbor Gold and a decanter with honeyed mead arrived before Jon Arryn actually did, being placed alongside the King's chair. Not a surprise the realm knew about Robert's drinking habits, they'll be surprised with the Stark-blooded sense of sobriety. His eyes stared at the Lord of the Eyrie, defender of the Vale and Warden of the East. He got up to his feet to enthusiastically embrace the older man who had been his father figure.

"Ned, thank the gods you're finally here!" Jon Arryn exclaimed.

His voice with a sincerity at the sight of his foster son and protege as they broke apart to look at one another. His hands clapped upon each other's broad shoulders. His mentor looked haggard, tired almost, but otherwise in good health as when he had left him. Broad shoulders still able to hold the weight of his grip, an aquiline nose which still hung proudly and his now greyed sandy hair with that same sense of dignity. He looked back at him with a relief in his pale blue eyes, even giving him a smile despite missing a few teeth now.

"I'm sure they had a minimal part in my safe return here, Jon. Speaking of arrivals, have the rest of the Lords shown up as we requested?"

"All those inclined to attend in the first place anyway. All of our own respective Lords are cramped out on the northern edge of the city. Stannis came as soon as you lifted the siege with the remainder of the Stormlords. And has them stationed there as well. Lord Mace Tyrell has settled with a host from the Reach to the south and I put up Hoster and the riverlords down there with him. As for Lord Tywin…is still in the same position since the sack, to the west."

He frowned at the information.

"Are my wife and son here, with Lord Hoster?"

Jon Arryn shook his head to his disappointment. "The Riverlands were hit hardest during the war, Ned. And have been in a state of complete disarray ever since. The region, still is being plagued by outlaws, bandits, deserters from both sides who turned brigand, and small pockets of remaining loyalist resistance."

"House Darry." He frowned.

"Yes, House Darry and surprisingly the Blackwoods also are with them. And as you might've guessed, the Brackens are with Hoster."

"Fuck!" He cursed outwardly.

He might've to employ the services of his newly named close Master of Whispers to attempt and subdue the Blackwoods. Though it was more surprising that the Blackwoods have been against him when his great-grandmother was a Blackwood herself. Though when comparing the memory of Melantha Blackwood against Betha Blackwood's, it was obvious the latter would be remembered more fondly than the former.

"We'll have to send a message to House Blackwood's lord to be here. Regardless, I'm just glad to know the Gods helped to keep you safe as well, Jon. With all the Lords to keep track of here, and given everything that must've happened following Robert's death." He spoke lightly of his brother's death, yet he felt relieved his friend died.

It wasn't that he hated Robert at the end, nor that he wasn't his friend. It was just that they differed their opinions and their paths walked a very different way when he showed his madness in wishing all Targaryen dead. Even the Children. That was somewhere he couldn't follow Robert though, not when he held his nephew in his arms. And when he thought of a what if, he would've regardless stayed with his Nephew's side up to the end. Yeah, he would've given Robert the messy Iron Monstrosity and taken his nephew to the North; in fact. He would've torn his armor, clothes and small-clothes for the sake of his nephew, for his blood. He would've taken the brunt of dishonor of calling him a bastard for the sake of the world turning its eyes away from his beloved Nephew. He mourned his surrogate brother, yet his mourning outweighed his duty. Robert's brash decision to go against his nephew was something that made him loose any kind of empathy towards Robert and ended in pity. It seems that the Mad King's blood truly ran in Robert and the Baratheon brashness only heightened it.

"It's an absolute chaos Ned. Everyone is constantly arguing, the Lord and soldiers are finding ways to fight the other. Stannis is actively slighting all the alliances his brother made and has constantly been shutting down any and all aspirations for the throne even when he's being offered it. To the point he even offered the Mad King's son's return to the throne. Can you imagine? I'm so sorry Ned, I…I can only imagine how you must've felt, learning about it so far away. I would give nearly everything I have to have him back, even my own life. He was as much a son as you are, and I know it must've felt awful losing another brother to you all over again."

"I'm fine Jon." He dismissed, his nephew's birth and subsequent crowning in the Sept made him bold enough to cast aside the past, the war and the sadness to his duty as an Uncle and as a Father.

"I had time to come to terms with all what has happened. I take comfort in knowing Robert would've approved dying from a wound in battle, and that he had his reservations about taking the Iron Monstrosity. I know Robert wouldn't want to have me waste my tie weeping over hi when action is needed and the whole realm is at stake." He frowned with a straight face.

He'd rather be a dutiful regent, than make his ancestor's mistake of cutting heads and leaving to the North. He didn't judged Cregan Stark, his mission was to come to war and leave back to the North or die in the south. Unlike him who waged the entire war and now had to take care of a Targaryen Prince who was his nephew.

"You're right. Robert's passing left us all in an awkward situation right now, to say the least. And Stannis isn't helping at all, the announcement of you racing back to the capital with an important announced bought us some time with all the Lords. They've been contenting themselves with waiting your arrival, instead of breaking the realm into a riot. Thank the gods for your Letter Ned, because I'm sure that King's Landing would've been a bloodier affair if it hadn't arrived. Tell me then, what happened out there, Ned? Did you managed to find your sister after all?"

He rose his right hand halfway first, before that is addressed.

"I'll explain myself in a moment, Jon. For now, why don't you update me on What's been Happening here in the Capital, also on the other Kingdoms?" Eddard had urgency.

If the Iron Born ships they saw on their way to King's landing, then it meant that the Iron Born were only getting ready to assault them. He had little time to settle this and start fortifying the North for what's to come and help Ben in whatever he may need. He would need Arthur, Wylla and Maester Aemon to return before he could even begin telling the entire story, after all. Instead, he reached out and uncorked the decanter from the nearby trolley and filled two goblets with mead, before handing one over to Jon. His being the shortest one.

He needed to be sober and conscious for all what's to come.

"Where would you like me to begin?" He asked.

"The most important first. Dragonstone, did the Queen Dowager accepted our request for a truce?" He wondered out about a second letter he sent when he was about to go into the Mander to get into the inside of the realm before arriving to surface.

"Thankfully yes. As soon as I read your letter. I sent the offer to Queen Rhaella. I convinced Stannis to halt the construction of the fleet Robert had ordered. He wasn't that very far anyway. She strangely seemed very insistent on wishing to visit here and wanting to know of your status. I reserved that information to ourselves, she consented in pulling the royal fleet back to Dragonstone and allow sea traffic to and from the Blackwater Bay and King's Landing to go unharmed. She seemed however adamant in returning the entirety of the royal treasury without her being around it. I don't know what you told her first but it seems to have the Velaryon, Celtigars and all of the Queen Dowager's armed troops at ease, this allowed for us to feed the Lords and bannermen gathered in the city right now. For now, the Targaryens are simply waiting on word of your return, as is the request of the court in fact."

He let out a breath he wasn't even aware he held, in relief.

He knew the Queen received the first letter but he had no answer at all, he desperately wrote to Jon Arryn to try and settle things with them with a second last letter. He hoped his sincerity with Gaemon's grandmother paid off, and it seemed it did. Now that the Queen seemed willing to talk, he had an opening he so desperately needed to relay the news to the realm. Hopefully, it would be enough to win her over. It had to be. He mimicked Jon by taking a sip before responding.

"That's good to hear, Jon. Have there been any objections from the other Lords about our negotiations?"

"I decided to stay silent, actually. Wouldn't wish to bother them with minor details. Not that it's been that hard." He shrugged dryly as he took a deep swing of his glass.

"They've either completely forgotten about Dragonstone, or have deliberately chosen to. Either way, all of the Lords seem more preoccupied with the matter of succession. And with stannis as obstinate and stubborn as Robert was. You can guess show it went. He argued that with Robert having never been crowned, and with Aerys and Rhaegar both dead. Our cause and justification for this rebellion has…died. So, according to him, for the good of the realm we should immediately all renew our oaths to Prince Viserys and return to being dutiful and lawful subjects of House Targaryen. Some even have proposed to crown Robert's young Brother, Renly. That made far too many Lords nervous about disrupting their own lines of succession, all in exchange for the unappealing prospect of a child Monarch. And Stannis has been obsessively protecting his brother 24-7 and has zealously denied any notions of his little brother ever being outside of Storm's end until his majority. Others are even throwing out the possibility of dissolving the identity of the Iron Throne's authority entirely and reestablishing independence, a heavily controversial with sparked cries of treason. Though many right now haven't actively opposed to call a Great Council to settle the matter. Most believe that's what you planned to announce when you finally returned in fact."

He inwardly shivered about the independence of the seven kingdoms.

While the age of Kings in kingdoms were perhaps the worst ever thought, no kingdom suffered those days than the north itself. If the seven kingdoms dissolved, what opposed the Barrow Kings or the Blood Red King's descendants from rebelling against the Starks?

He shivered, Barbrey Rysswell and Roose Bolton had many reasons to rebel against his family, given also the fact that they're both allied through Bethany it would mean a serious attack and affront to House Stark and a disaster for the North. His wife is Southern also, which already spoke miles of the broken loyalties many Lords of the North would have against him. No, the independence of the Seven Kingdom's was not an option, it has never been an option with Gaemon's birth and it shall never be as long as he draws breath. He'll rejoin them all, even if he has to use a club in each of the Lord's heads for even daring such an idea.

'I can't show my concern.' He thought sharply.

"I can't see why they're even bothering though. It's not as if they won't just simply continue to argue about it there, as much as they've been, to no effect. Still, I've been hearing potential candidates, generally lords of great houses with an actual chance of winning. Even our bannermen are starting to flout both of our names, Ned."

"That will never happen, jon." He answered resolutely, taking a deep drink of his own to settle down any unsettling thoughts. The attempt to murder the royal children still fresh in his mind to ever forget.

His foster father's hand waved dismissively at him, he expected it. "Yes, yes Ned. I know you're averse to the Iron Throne. I'm not exactly eager to sit on that Iron Monstrosity any more than you are. I'm afraid my old body would give out within a year of having those swords sticking to my back, and I prefer dying in one piece, than in pieces as Viserys I Targaryen did. And without a clear blood tie to the previous dynasty, any prospective candidate for the Iron Throne would only invite future challengers at some point, even with a Great Council affirming them, especially if the vote is as close or split. Leave us once more with the same awkward position we have, no acceptable heir to take up the crown."

He smiled.

"I completely understand our Lords' fears and empathize with their concerns Jon, better than most, I would think. In this case, I happen to agree with Stannis. The only possible person that's suitable to sit on the Iron Throne at this point is a member of House Targaryen." No one could deny that House Stark had suffered the most grievously at the hands of House Targaryen, the memory of Ned's burning father and choke-holding brother lashing through each their minds. Yet Jon Arryn's face switched from shock, to stun, to incredulous.

"Bed, you just said-!"

"Yes, I did. And I agree that Prince Viserys is not an acceptable option. But I wasn't speaking of him."

"Who then? Queen Rhaella? That would upset the order of Succession on two counts if we supplanted a male heir as well, we already experienced that with Rhaenyra Targaryen Ned-." He shook his head.

"No, not her either. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who you ask, we already have the ideal, and more importantly the legitimate, heir to the throne already." He inclined his head towards the direction behind Jon.

"Arthur, Wylla, Maester Aemon, you may come in now." He lightly chuckled inwardly at how his foster father's neck almost snapped at how quickly he swung it back to look at the door.

Standing tall and completely straight at the now open entrance, where the imposing figure of Ser Arthur Dayne dressed in the white cloak and the armor of the Targaryen Kingsguard, Dawn on his back with the shorter and more petite figure of Wylla in front of him, carrying in her arms a large bassinet with a curious prince inside, who was staring at and taking in his new surroundings. Alongside them came Maester Aemon the elderly Targaryen Master who in secret was the greatest candidate for Grandmaster the realm could ever have.

The sight of Ser Arthur threw Jon Arryn out of sorts, as he turned to stare at him with a baffled expression and questions clearly etched on his face. Wylla though without a care, walked past them and set the bassinet on the trolley next to Ned, who already cleared it of their drinks, before excusing herself back out into the hallway, while Arthur settled on his other side and Aemon cared less for everyone's presence and had the Prince's most rapt attention.

"Ned, what in the seven hells is going on her-?"

"Jon, you stand before Prince Gaemon of House Targaryen, trueborn son of Crown Prince Rhaegar and my sister Lyanna. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne and rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the realm and Prince Rhaegar's Song of Ice and Fire. Eventually anyway." Ned finished with a wry smile. His nephew looked about ready to nod off while being formally introduced, and having all his many titles listed. The lad was definitely half Stark regardless of his targaryen coloring and his strange Magenta-colored eyes.

Jon Arryn's eyes were huge about to bulge right out of his sockets and into his goblet with how wide they went.

"Ned, wha-how? When did-?

"They ran together away, Jon." He stated with quiet solemnity. "Rhaegar didn't kidnap or rape my sister.

As much as Robert wished to believe that. She went willingly with him. According to Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold Hightower. They were wed on the Isle of Faces shortly after reuniting in the Riverlands, on Harrenhall. My sister Herself told me, Jon. But even before that, I saw proof with my own eyes years ago, even if I blindingly refused to acknowledge it. Lyanna would've never been happy with Robert, she couldn't stand his lecherous ways and how he admired her beauty but nothing else about her. I was blind Jon, and Howland had to drop me this discovery because I was half too blind to see robert's own faults." He had to once again painfully recall the story for Jon.

As he gulped through the tears that threatened to get out of his eyes. The silent love story was enough to make Jon Arryn fall back into his chair, goblet dismissed already and rubbing his temples in his head instead.

"Alright." He said shakily. "It's likely now that Lyanna went with Rhaegar willingly. Half the court already believes that anyway, when they were outside of Robert's earshot at least, so it probably won't be difficult to convince the rest. But…is there proof that they were legitimately married, Ned?"

Ser Arthur didn't hesitate to reveal a bound scroll from his cloak and slap it down onto the desk, right in front of the Eyrie's lord startling him. "A copy of their marriage contract, performed by one Septon Maynard on the Isle of faces in front of a heart tree. Witnessed by Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Gerold Hightower and Myself, Lord Arryn. The original secretly sent to the citadel in the Septon's diary for Safe keeping, sealed with the crown prince's own signet ring. With a written testament recorded written by both. If needed be, the Septon may be summoned to give personal account along with the Citadel's record. Along it comes a witnessed report from Grandmaester Pycelle verified by the Archmaster's Conclave of Princess Elia Martell's barren condition after the critical birth of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Along with it comes her own testament allowing prince Rhaegar for the taking of a second wife for the Sake of the Realm to have a prince and for the line of succession."

Warily avoiding Ser Arthur's gaze, Jon Arryn reached for the scroll, carefully unfurling it from its bindings and slowly reading through its contents. Once finished, the scroll snapped back closed, while staring numbly at the floor. Eddard felt nervous, he needed his foster father's approval, they would both be the most fierce supporters of Gaemon and of his plan, if he denies it he might as well be a lonely man surrounded by the experienced players of the Game.

"If Ser Arthur and his sworn brothers are willing to swear by the validity of these documents, and if you personally believe them Ned. ThenI'm prepared to accept it as a truth as well. But Gods Ned, I would never have believed the mess we had been left with could actually get this worse!"

Jon pointed to the scroll. As he scanned his foster father's reaction. Shaking his head wistfully. "Not necessarily Jon. In fact, I believe my nephew may as well be our greatest solution out of this 'mess'."

"And what, exactly are you planning on doing with him, Ned?"

"I want to rise my Nephew to be the best possible King he can be, and I want you to help me, Jon. I shall declare myself Lord Regent and Protector of the realm in my Nephew's name, until he is a man grown and can sit on the Iron Throne for himself." He declared openly to his foster father.

From anyone else's mouth, with the slightest hint of ambition, it probably even would've been. But in between family, thing s stay closer. His foster father's incredulous expression remained however.

"You Ned?"

And he felt offended, he huffed indignantly. "Why not me? I'm his oldest living male relative, one of the main leaders who fought in this war. And a great Lord in my own right. I believe that gives me sufficient rank, reason and authority to assume the post. This way, we need not bother with a great council. Few Lords will be able to openly gainsay my nephew's blood right to the throne, and I have no intention o giving those few any opportunity to even try."

Jon Arryn's hasty nod was enough

"Well, yes. it does make some sense, now that you say it out loud. But, it's just…well, you Ned."

And he supposed Jon's disbelief was fair. He still felt horrified at the prospect, he had not even dreamed of becoming Lord of Winterfell and ruling the North a year ago. Now he was posed to govern all Seven Kingdoms, and he felt completely inadequate to meet the Challenge. He couldn't admit any of that however, not before he gaiend the older man's support, anyway. "You disapprove?" He asked.

"No, I'm just…surprised. You must be aware that I never ever expected from you this, Ned. You absolutely despise the Game. So what in the world could've ever possessed you to consider such a task, putting yourself and all you love in the middle of it all?"

"A promise I made to Lyanna, Jon."

Jon Arryn went quiet now. There was nothing more that needed to be said, really.

"What about your northerners? Would they agree such a dramatic shift in their relationship with the other six kingdoms?"

"The ones who accompanied me have already pledged themselves to the cause, and are currently working their way through what's left of the northern camp to be made aware quietly bringing the rest of my bannerman on my side. Lyanna was just as much a Stark as my father and Brandon were, and they loved her as fiercely as they did them. They'll stand behind her son, if I ask it of them." Ned finished firmly.

"And I suppose they also won't object to the fact that the next king of Westeros would be half-northern, while their own liege lord would essentially rule the entire realm for the next decade and a half, at the very least. I doubt they'll fail to see this as a chance for the North to assert political dominance over the entire Seven Kingdoms, and that they can expand their own influence accordingly," Jon observed, mulling over the concept now.

Ned winced internally. He did not like to think of his northerners in such opportunistic terms. It felt alien, and so very…southron. But he wouldn't delude himself either. All men had such desires deep down inside. Northern lords were just more direct about expressing them.

"I already spoke with my Lords about it Jon. Would it be so bad for us to have some of it finally? The Baratheon's had it, your family had it during Viserys I's reign. The North is poor, winters are harsh; my kingdom needs help and we've been the most neglected these last hundred years." He flinched defensively.

"Well, he has the Targaryen look at least. Though those pointy strange ears, his looks perhaps might not please the North-."

"They'll be pleased, in fact they might be honored."

He confessed, realizing his own Grandmother's looks, an Ice Elf princess daughter of the actual representative of the Ice Elf tribe on the north. Her name was Galathei, the most beautiful and fiercest of all Ice Elves in the North. Her beauty superior to a field of Winter Roses; Edwyle felt smitten with the wise female Elf and married her. From her birthed his father Rickard Stark and from her blood was birthed Lyanna, the fairest beauty of all the North and the Winter Rose. The features of the first men yet the mystical beauty of the Ice Elves and their characteristic ears.

"Still, an infant king, Ned?" He questioned, sitting back in his chair.

"Renly and Viserys made other Lords nervous enough as it is, and they're several years older than your nephew."

"Aye, I'm aware it's not ideal. But what is in such a shit situation Jon? The only answer we have that might have a chance succeeding. No one will be able to dispute Prince Gaemon's claim to the throne like they could with Renly, and being half Stark would make him more acceptable for the lords who sided with us compared to Viserys. While also lessening concerns about potential madness. And his split heritage would be able to bridge that divide you spoke of earlier, between rebels and loyalists."

Jon Arryn's full nod gave him relief.

"A newborn king would mean the longest regency in the history of the Iron Throne, Ned. The longest before was King Aegon III after the Dance of the Dragons Ned. And your ancestor clearly made quite the mess with those heads he took. And leaving everything to be a shit-storm afterwards. This brings me to my previous point about the North being the only ones that come happy about this development. The last time a Stark held power in King's Landing did not exactly endeared itself into our memories as it did to yours, Ned…"

He crossed his arms and got up.

"I'm aware of my ancestor's legacy, Jon." He responded tersely.

"Believe me when I wish I could serve for just a single day in office like my forefather, Cregan Stark did. However our situations are different. Cregan came to the South too late to fight war. While we were the ones to start it. He had no siblings under the threat of the south, while I had. He didn't had a princely nephew on his arms to take care of while I have. Even if I wish to just cut heads, claim justice and go away, I know that isn't possible anymore. And I don't intend to entrust my nephew's wellbeing, or the realm's. To a bunch of backstabbing, bickering council of regents like he did. Let us be honest, the last Regency was a mess with the Peake's getting so much influence they eventually Murdered one Targaryen King whose son is still between us as reminder of our wrongdoings." Eddard frowned at any hints of any possible change in the pieces HE punts around the throne.

"The ruin of my house, the death of my family. I was helpless, blind and frail. When I heard they had killed my brother's grandson, and his poor great-grandson and they children! Even the little children." Maester Aemon Targaryen mumbled as he stared firmly towards the general direction of the Lord of the Eyrie.

"Who are you?" His foster father asked.

"My father, was Maekar. My Brother Aegon V, he was followed by his son Jahaerys II and his grandson Aerys II. Whom you call, The Mad King."

"By the Seven, you're Aemon Targaryen." Jon Arryn spoke in shock, turning from the elder Targaryen Maester to him.

"I'm a Maester of the Citadel. For many years I stood by my oaths up to the last when Benjen Stark negotiated my freedom. Thus I now return, to serve my great-great-grandnephew."

Jon Arryn's shock filled face turned to him.

"By the Seven Ned, I never realized that there was another Targaryen housed in the north."

He nodded.

"There is. Going on what we talked about. My ancestry could prove useful, especially as a deterrence to potential challengers. The Lords will remember that part of the Hour of the Wolf most of all. Or risk learning its lessons personally, if they don't." He fenished quietly, in a very chillying tone.

Though the prospect of more war and death absolutely turned his stomach, Eddard would not allow his aversion to bloodshed to keep him from doing what needed to be done. And if what was needed was for more to die, even in their thousands, then he would not shy away from it, although he wished to do everything he possibly could to avoid that outcome. But the one thing he absolutely knew would end his term in office before it even began was to show hesitancy or weakness.

"Be that as it may, Ned." Jon Arryn carefully ventured.

"One cannot govern with just brute force. You say you don't want to emulate your ancestor, but you have no prior experience with politics in the south, and, no offence, lack the subtle need for managing the many egos in the royal court."

"Which is why I would name you Hand of the King, Jon. As Robert originally intended when he was alive."

The Lord of the Eyrie was a deft negotiator, able to look at issues with clear objectivity, and most of all, he had a patient and understanding nature that allowed him to listen to all sides in an argument while staying above the fray. It was a minor miracle already that he had managed to keep the capital in such good order until his return.

"You would appoint me, the first Lord whom declared open Rebellion against House Targaryen, as Hand on behalf of a Targaryen King, Ned?" He rose an eyebrow at his question. "Is it any stranger than the notion of me becoming regent on behalf of a Targaryen King, Jon?"

Jon Arryn blinked, before lapsing back from embarrassment.

"No…of course not Ned. The only notion that would be stranger is if Robert were the one declaring it instead. But you have a blood tie to this infant king you've chosen, at least. How would you justify giving me, the person who instigated the Rebellion in the first place, such a prominent position?"

"Because you're the only one I ever would trust with this, Jon." He stated it deftly and obvious. "You have more experience with this and know more about southern politics than anyone I know. You have sufficient rank and prestige to warrant the position. The fact you're the original rebel instigator is also an asset, as your support would ease worries and invite the other lords who fought in our favor to come back into the fold of House Targaryen."

He leaned forward then, placing his elbows on the desk and intertwining his hands together, before staring straight into Jon's eyes. "And most of all, because there is no other person in Westeros I trust more. Both to watch my back and to help guide me through what will undoubtedly be the most difficult trial in my life. I know trust is more precious than anything else in King's Landing, and I will not squander it by sidelining the one man I can trust."

Both sat in silence for a long time.

"Can I count on your support, Jon? Will you stand beside me now, as we always have, and see this through with me to the end?"

For a brief moment Jon hesitated, looking both conflicted and apprehensive. But slowly, finally, he nodded.

"Yes, Ned. Of course I'm with you. You don't even need to ask, because that's never been in question. Whatever you choose to do, you will always have my support. I just… I hope you're ready for what you'll be asking, of both of us in the coming years. And of him, as well,"Jon arryn stated pointedly, tilting his head toward the bassinet.

If only Jon knew just how much he had agonized and worried over that very thought. How he had been thinking about and working through those possibilities for well over a month now. But it would be more effective to simply show him instead, as he quickly went through all the mental notes he had tucked away in preparation for this conversation.

"Well, if we're really going to do this, and it seems like we are, then as your newly appointed Hand of the King, I recommend we immediately hold a coronation ceremony. I also advise you come up with a new title for yourself, to help solidify your authority, given the unprecedented length of this regency."

The prospect of another title made his face turn sour, but he didn't outright refuse. "I'll take your second recommendation into consideration, but hold off on the first. I'd rather we hold a simple investiture ceremony instead, where the lords recognize Crown Prince Gaemon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and swear their fealty, while also acknowledging my position and authority as regent."

"You're not going to crown him outright as king?" Jon asked in surprise.

"I would rather save that ceremony for when he comes of age, and can claim the throne in his own right. It will boost his prestige and hopefully shore up his reign later on."

"Perhaps. But you know what the other lords migh- no, will say don't you?

"That I intend to deny him any chance of ever wielding any real authority, and make him my puppet?" He wondered, snorting in disgust.

Jon Arryn simply nodded.

"Let them. They would say the same even if I did crown him king. It's the bane of any child ruler, Jon. Though, it might not be the worst outcome if they did assume that. I need to establish my own authority during these early years anyway, and if they are wary or unsure of my ambitions, or to what lengths I would go for them, then they will refrain from taking hasty action. Initially, at least."

The Stark Lord shrugged. "Besides, I think that only reinforces my point about the need for the pomp and luster of a real coronation for Crown Prince Gaemon in the future, wouldn't you say?"

He smiled kindly at Jon's dumbfounded and perplexed face now. He might be wondering where all this insightful was coming from.

"Alright, so that's the ceremony and announcement out of the way for now.

even assuming they accept everything up to that point with no objections, which I highly doubt, the lords and ladies will still want clarity on what your policy for the realm will be exactly moving forward, especially after such a tumultuous series of events this past year."

Lord Stark leaned his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers together, while he pondered through the matter aloud. "Reconciliation has to be our main focus. We have to eradicate all notion of recrimination between both loyalist and rebels, bind up the wounds we have suffered at each other's hands, and heal as one nation again. Otherwise no one will have any sense of security or peace of mind, and we'll never be able to stabilize the realm. Which also means that, as my first official act, I will be recalling all the previously exiled lords under both Aerys and Robert, restoring all their titles... and reversing all previous divisions of land during the Rebellion."

Jon Arryn's graying eyebrows shot up so far they nearly left his face. "But, Ned-!"

"We cannot punish Targaryen loyalists when I am about to put a Targaryen back on the throne again, Jon." he tried to explain calmly.

"Robert promised-!"

"Robert isn't here anymore." He refuted coldly.

"Nor did he yet have the authority to make those promises while he was alive. So we are not bound or obligated to keep any on his behalf."

"Many of our lords fought and bled for our cause, sacrificed treasure and sons for it. On the understanding that they would receive new territory from their holdings, Ned!"

"Yes, and some of those lords also fought against us initially, Jon. Perhaps they should be more grateful for their lives, and the fact that it isn't their lands we're talking about dividing up here instead."

Jon Arryn exhaled harshly in understood it but in this case he shan't cede. He preferred a new start than trying to favor one side or the other. Perhaps this is what the realm needed, some good fucking Northern rigid ruling for once.

"Well, we can't just leave them with nothing for their efforts, Ned. Many of them risked being burned as traitors alongside us. If we demonstrate preferential treatment to the loyalist, our lords will desert us, if not now than at some point in the future when we have need of them."

"I agree. At a minimum, the crown will have to cover the cost of all losses suffered by every lord, be it rebel or loyalist, with funds from the royal treasury. Probably more, given we'll likely have to dole out additional rewards for those who rendered distinguished service on both sides, if I'm being honest."

Now Jon was staring at him as if he had gone as mad as the king whose chair Ned was currently sitting in. "Ned, you'll bankrupt the realm before you've even taken office if you do that! And even that is if the Dowager Queen returns with the Royal Treasury. How do you expect to run the Seven Kingdoms once you've emptied the vaults? Tywin Lannister certainly won't be inclined to extend us a loan given how you protested against Robert's idea pushed forth by Tywin."

"I would not take it from him even if he did, Jon," He insisted hotly.

"Lord Tywin would be worse than Roose Bolton's leeches if we were ever put into his debt. I have some ideas regarding the treasury however, though I won't make any commitments until I've taken certain meetings on the morrow. I will say that at the very least, we may be able to cut some of those costs you're afraid of. But again, we'll have to see how those meetings go. Regardless, it needs to be done, even if we have to take out a loan from the Iron Bank. As you said, our lords will expect some sort of compensation for their sacrifices, and it's critical that we do so in order to win their support for the new order we're trying to establish."

Sighing in defeat, the Hand of the King slumped against the handle of his chair.

Deciding it best to move on to their next set of thorny problems rather than continue to argue the point. "Since we're on the matter of Tywin Lannister, I think it's prudent for us to start discussing the most pressing concerns to establishing this 'new order' of ours. From my perspective, both the biggest potential problem and asset is Dragonstone, and the rest of House Targaryen."

Nodding in agreement, the Stark Lord gestured to Arthur, who acquiesced by producing another set of sealed scrolls on the table. Inclining his head in thanks, Eddard turned back to face Jon and explained.

"I already have a letter addressed to Queen Rhaella written up, detailing all the recent events that have transpired, or will soon transpire, and also extended an invitation for their return to King's Landing, guarantees regarding their protection, and an offer of continued recognition of their royal status. If we can just convince her, than any other opinion won't matter, here or on Dragonstone. These other parchments are sworn testimonies signed by Ser Athur, Ser Gerold, and Ser Oswell, along with their personal seals. I plan to send them along with the copy recording the marriage later tonight, so feel free to read through the letter beforehand, to see if you find anything objectionable," he finished before handing one of the scrolls over to Jon."

Taking it in thanks, Jon Arryn set the letter aside for now, choosing to continue the discussion instead. "I don't imagine I'll read anything you haven't already told me, but I'll make sure to go over it quickly once we're finished, and see that it's sent off with the rest promptly. But, Ned… do you think it will be enough?"

Eddard could only shrug helplessly at the question, admitting he wasn't sure. "It has to be, Jon."

"Even if she were to acknowledge the testaments as genuine. It wouldn't be beyond imagining for her to think that Ser Arthur and the remaining Kingsguard may have simply switched sides, after what happened with Ser Jaimie and Ser Barristan. Again, no offense intended of course," he hastily insisted, before giving an apologetic nod to Arthur, which the latter returned in good grace.

"My point still stands, however. Any authority we wield would derive solely from everyone accepting your nephew's legitimacy. But if Rhaella doesn't… if she refuses to acknowledge him as her grandson, or even if she does but rejects your right to govern as his regent in place of herself, our situation becomes very… precarious."

He hesitated briefly before speaking again. For the first time in the conversation, Jon Arryn had finally presented a problem he had not prepared an answer for.

"Queen Rhaella will accept so long as she's convinced the lad is truly her blood. I included coming to see and inspect Rick-Prince Gaemon, for herself in my invitation back to King's Landing. And from everything I've heard, the queen is intelligent enough to recognize that the balance of military power is almost entirely in our favor. Picking her grandson over Prince Viserys, along with my being regent and her accepting that, would be the only compromise we could all move forward on, while ensuring the safety of her family and her House. I'm confident that she'll see that and be willing to agree to almost anything for their sake, whatever other doubts she may have."

"Well, I'm feeling doubtful unlike you that she'll see the boy as a member of her family, given his strange ears. And I fear you are overestimating our military position compared to hers right now, Ned…"

Ned shrugged.

"You're talking about Dorne, I take it?"

"I didn't become temporarily blind or deaf while I was travelling in Dorne, Jon. I've heard the whispers. Tywin Lannister failed to kill Rhaenys and the puppet Aegon was in fact a bastard of a Lyseni courtesan. Rhaenys was on a boat her way to Dragonstone by the time the Mountain and Amory Lorch raided the Red Keep. Prince Oberyn is trying to rally the principality behind his niece and is agitating for war. Yet also his brother, Prince Doran, has expressly forbad any such thing, for the time being."

Jon Arryn slammed his goblet down now.

"Emphasis on 'for the time being', Ned! With Robert gone, our alliance is more divided and weak than at any point during the Rebellion, while we're about to test that bond even further, perhaps to its breaking point! And do you think House Martell will be happy to hear that your nephew, the son of the woman that Rhaegar displaced their sister for, will be the one to ascend the throne in place of the niece and nephew they lost? If Rhaella decides to oppose us, they'll have the perfect opportunity to rally the loyalist support you're counting on behind her and Viserys instead, while our coalition is busy tearing itself apart."

He let out a deep, if stuttered, calming breath before stating firmly. "Rhaella will support us, Jon. This is the only path that would ensure her House's survival, rather than all but gambling it away, with the very real possibility of being extinguished forever. She has to realize that. So, we'll worry about the possible outcome, if and when it actually arises. Until then, we wait for her response."

He had his reasons to be confident, while he wasn't merciless. He has the Bloodraven and Aemon on his side, the two most elder members of House Targaryen, one who has been Hand of the King for Twenty Years and con easily work the shadows to his favor.

"Now, assuming we gain Rhaella's cooperation, Dorne will lose all legal basis to pursue a war. With us, anyway. But I agree their resentment poses a risk that could hound us for years, even after the regency period is over. I intend to give them what they truly want even more than the Iron Throne. Justice, Justice for the murder of Princess Elia. That should be enough gesture on our side towards them."

Jon Arryn was out of his seat now, his arms spread wide and his hands planted firmly on the desk, while leaning across to stare at his pupil in panic. "Ned! Tywin's army is still right outside the city gates. If you move against him now, King's Landing will turn into a blood bath!

"Dorne will not accept paltry apologies from us, Jon! Not when we are so weakened and badly divided with Robert gone, as you've just pointed out. This is the only thing that has a chance of truly appeasing them and bringing them back into the fold!"

"And what good is managing to avoid conflict with Dorne, if we only face the prospect of another with the Westerlands, Ned? This one on our very doorstep even!"

"There is always the issue of Jaimie Lannister. If I enforce the law in his case we may be able to avoid bloodshed in Lord Tywin's. He should still be in his quarters if I'm not mistaken?" He suggested lightly, even though he knew damn well already where the Kingslayer was. With the Sept of Baelor off limits, Robert's body would have to be temporarily interred in the Red Keep's sept, and Jaimie would be obligated to stay nearby to guard it. In fact, even as they were speaking, the remaining members of the Kingsguard should have already silently dealt with such matter. Finishing their own meeting with Ser Barristan.

"Ned…" Jon Arryn cautioned, slowly emphasizing every word he spoke next. "While I don't doubt the ability of our bannermen if it came down to a fight, they are still exhausted from constant campaigning. While all of Tywin's levies are relatively fresh. And they certainly won't want to take up arms again, just so that Aerys can get justice."

"Yet by that same measure, how can I fail to also demand justice for the murder of the other Targaryen royal family members? Of my nephew's bastard brother, sister and stepmother!?"

"He did it on our behalf, Ned!"

"No Jon, he did it for himself and you damn well know it!" He shot back furiously, slamming his hand down on the desk and causing their goblets to shake, before managing to calm himself once again. "All of the other lords know it as well, and will hardly raise a defense for him."

"Be that as it may, Ned," Jon persisted, his nails digging into the mahogany wood now.

"It doesn't change the fact that if we punish Tywin after he declared for us, many others who also held back before committing at the end will start wondering if you might come for them next. And while most of our lords might disapprove of Tywin's actions, and mistrust his motives during the Sack, it's still an entirely different matter from asking them to take up arms once again over it. Not when they have to weigh the possibility of not seeing their own wives and children, after thinking they had finally reached the end of this year's past madness. More than anything else, they're just tired and want to settle the matter of the succession so they can go home, Ned. A feeling I'm sure both of us can well relate to," he wearily finished before slumping back into his chair at last."

The Stark Lord could only grimace. He'd heard all of these arguments from Jon before, after he had first insisted that Robert needed to punish the Lannisters for even daring to hint that in a letter. The following rebuke by Robert had left him furious, causing him to storm out of that accursed tent.

Yet the past month and a half had given him a lot of time to think about these matters though, as he contemplated over and over again each course of action he would need to take, along with the compromises he would have to make, as they drew closer to the capital. And he could not avoid the conclusion that he would find many of them just as unpleasant and distasteful as he did now.

"Ned, there's also something else you should know. We recently just had word from Pyke. Quellon Greyjoy apparently died during that battle at the mouth of the Mander. His son, Balon has claimed the Seastone Chair and lordship over the Iron Islands."

That bit of news caught Ned's attention, and he sat up straight now in response. He'd heard nothing of this while passing through the Shield Islands himself, beyond that the battle had largely been inconclusive, and meaningless as the Ironborn had withdrawn almost immediately afterwards.

"From everything Varys has told me, Balon Greyjoy is the exact opposite of Lord Quellon. Which means he is very Ironborn. Which, I must stress, is very bad for the rest of us."

Ned gave him an irritated glance in response. He didn't need Jon to tell him that. The North had a very long and unpleasant (to put it mildly) history with the Ironborn to look back upon for that purpose. But he was right to be concerned. Ned had largely been counting on typical Ironborn disinterest with mainland affairs while factoring all the other kingdoms during his strategy sessions. But now, under new leadership…

"If conflict erupts again on the mainland, it's more than likely that Balon will try to take advantage of it, as the Greyjoys are want to do, and tried to do here towards the end of the Rebellion. So we're looking at the real possibility of fighting on not one, but two different fronts, just as we're trying to prop up an entirely new rule for the realm the lords will already have misgivings about, going in. It's too much of a risk right now, Ned. And it's why I'm begging you, please. Don't. Provoke. Tywin."

For a long while he just had a permanent frown etched on to his face which made Jon Arryn increasingly nervous visibly, before he finally decided to spare his poor foster father with a humorless smile. "You can calm yourself now, Jon. I won't be forcing or taking anything from Tywin Lannister. He's going to give it to me. And quite willingly at that."

Jon Arryn just blinked "Wha-?"

And he told him of the plan.

Lord Stark might really be some mythic animal that couldn't possibly exist, with the way Jon kept staring at him, once he finally finished explaining what he had in mind.

"That is... it's brilliant, Ned! How in the world did you ever come up with such an audacious scheme?"

"Don't give me too much credit now Jon," He drawled, still trying not to be annoyed by this constant state of disbelief that he apparently couldn't have good ideas. Even if it was true in this case, anyway. "I didn't come up with the notion. In fact, I would never have even considered the possibility unless it had been suggested."

"But… who then?"

He just shook his head. "It's not for me to say, Jon."

Sensing the finality in that statement Jon Arryn chose not to pursue the issue further. "Well, there's certainly quite a lot of merit to the idea. And it would help, tremendously in fact, if you can pull it off. Still…" he hesitated for a moment, before mustering the courage to ask the question that was at the very heart of their discussion.

"Are you sure you're alright with this, Ned?"

Ned takes a long while to answer, staring into his cup pensively as he does. "Alright? No Jon, hardly alright. I've not been alright since I left the Tower of Joy and started down this path. This... this is just the latest in a long line of decision I've come to accept that I have to make though. And I will, for his sake. So no, I'm very far from being alright, but I will get used to it. I have no other choice."

Jon Arryn considered his foster son again, searching his face to see if it truly was the case, before finally giving a nod of approval. "Alright, then. Let's go over the exact details during supper, together." Suddenly, Jon's eyes averted Ned's own as he tepidly voiced "There is one more major concern, regarding your nephew's legiti-,"

"You're speaking of the Faith," Ned interrupted. It wasn't a question.

Being stared at as if he was some exotic creature from Sothoryos was actually starting to become amusing now, causing Ned to let out a snort at the image. "Lord Commander Gerold is a Hightower Jon, so yes, he did make a point of mentioning it during the trip."

"Then you're aware that even if everyone accepts what you say as true, the Faith still has very obvious grounds to object to the dubious nature of your nephew's legitimacy, and thus the validity of his claim. The last Targaryen to have multiple wives was Maegor the Cruel, and he did not warm the faithful to the notion."

"No, but they never managed to successfully overrule him on it either," he pointed out.

"The High Septon won't be happy, Ned," Jon Arryn said in an equally unhappy voice.

"And the High Septon doesn't have the Faith Militant to rely upon anymore Jon, so he'll have to learn to live with being unhappy. Or he may not live at all," he finished darkly.

"Ned!"

"That last part was a joke. Mostly. But I won't allow fanatics or bigots from a religion I don't even follow to endanger my nephew, Jon."

"Regardless, if the Faith refuses to recognize Rhaegar's second marriage as valid, all of the lords will have an excuse to do the same and deny your nephew as a bastard with no rightful inheritance or claim. Between Prince Viserys, the Dornish, and Tywin Lannister, it is an opening we simply cannot afford to give," he cautioned.

The Stark Lord growled in exasperation. It was just one thing after the other. "The crown has essentially handpicked the High Septon for generations, Jon. Surely, between that influence and our own backing, along with our armies, we can 'prevail' upon him to accept Rick-Prince Gaemon's legitimacy and his right to the throne. Throw in a healthy 'donation' to the Faith and let's just be done with it already!"

Jon Arryn started kneading his forehead as he pondered over the situation. "I suppose you're not wrong, though it will still be like pulling teeth. But yes, with a few incentives, the High Septon's pragmatic enough to see he has no real choice. Especially if his life is at risk. You seem recently inclined to make a lot of threats actually, Ned. Are you're sure you'll be able follow through with them, if it should come to that?"

"I am," Ned reaffirmed, the steel in his voice now.

"Even if he agrees, which I concede he likely will however reluctantly, even the High Septon cannot stop the highborn and commoners from thinking it, Ned. And they will," Jon Arryn warned.

"So long as they do so silently. I can't control what people think Jon, much as I might wish, nor can I pretend away the circumstances of Prince Gaemon's birth. All I can do is prevent giving them an excuse to act upon those thoughts."

He stared at his foster Father.

"Jon, I know this is hardly ideal, or what any of us originally planned…"

"The funny thing is Ned, as bad as the situation is, as close as we may be from one misstep straight into total disaster… I'm very proud of you right now." The older man admitted, beaming at him. "You've changed since you last left us. I always worried about how unbending you could be at times, how steadfast in your principles you were, even as I admired you for it. But I would often lie awake at night, wondering at what point you would come across a challenge you could neither simply overcome nor retreat from, and if it would be the one to break you. I'm glad I'll be able to sleep more soundly from now on."

Ned accepted the compliment awkwardly, unable to really voice just how much those words truly meant to him, especially now.

Eventually, he did manage to break his momentary lapse of silence.

"May I entrust organizing the ceremony to you? Along with meeting with Stannis and Hoster privately beforehand, to inform them of our intentions, and convince them to pledge their support?" The Lord Paramounts were the key to everything, if they accepted the new status quo, than all the other minor lords would have no choice but to fall in line.

"Yes, that seems simple enough," Jon Arryn agreed.

"I'll inform the stewards to prepare the throne room immediately, which shouldn't cause too much suspicion since the lords and ladies will be expecting it anyway, now that you're back. It's lucky the staff never followed through with Robert's intention to remove the dragon skulls from the walls and into the cellars. Between his recovery and everyone being too busy with repairs to the rest of the Red Keep, we would have had a tricky time retrieving them without anyone noticing otherwise. And once I explain things properly to him, Stannis should have no issue in accepting your nephew's right to the throne, given his attitude about the rule of law. Likewise for Hoster, between being good-father to both of us, his natural inclination to follow the lead of others, and his general practicality, it shouldn't be difficult to convince him either. With them, we can slowly begin winning over all of our respective lords to the idea, while being in position to marginalize any potential opposition within our half of the Seven Kingdoms."

"That's good to hear. Especially since you'll also need to be the one to talk with the High Septon as well. To give his blessing at the ceremony."

"Ned!" Jon repeated, jumping out of his seat again, and looking completely aghast at that prospect.

"I did leave you the easier tasks for a reason, Jon," He said, with genuine amusement for the first time.

"And I don't imagine I'd be much good at arguing over the finer points of the Faith with the High Septon. Do you?"

The soon-to-be Hand of the King let out a pain filled groan, before giving in to the inevitable and nodding in acquiescence.

Rising out of his own chair now, the two stood in silent companionship for a while, each just wordlessly expressing their gratitude for the others presence and support. Noting the decanter had long since been emptied, Eddard reached for the bottle of Arbor gold, uncorked it, and poured them both one last glass.

Graciously taking it, Jon mirrored Ned's gesture of saluting with their cups, before both finished off the contents at the same time with one gulp. As he turned to leave however, Ned's voice brought him to a sudden halt again.

"Oh, before you do anything else Jon, please send for Lord Varys to come see me. Immediately."

The polite tone didn't fool Jon Arryn for a moment, but instead of questioning Ned's intentions further he simply muttered, "Of course," and then departed through the door without another word.

---

Cersei I

The Seven Kingdoms were at Open War. Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark both led a rebellion against the Targaryen Family, with the Demon of the Trident winning against Prince Rhaegar. And she, was then confined to Casterly Rock while her father and Uncles tried to get Jaime back. People knew Robert Baratheon, he was more the brawn type than the Brains. To many Lords he was the prime candidate to occupy the seat of the King, why was that? Simply, Robert Baratheon could easily be manipualted by anyone. Moreover the man had many bastards already around the realm, he as a man of women and drink. Which meant a man easily to be manipulated by any woman. Someone whom would allow the Lords to act however they desired with no amount of reprimand. And it would've been like that, her father planned it pristinely without a flaw. Her hand for marriage in exchange for Jaime. It was flawless and it would've worked, she even saw no flaw in her father's plan.

It was HER father's Plan.

Yet the Gods got the last laugh and Robert Baratheon fell to Dornish spear venom and Rhaegar's blade. And now, the realm was deadly silent and anxious. Anticipating. Why? Because everything went to shit. The Targaryens were gathering in Dragonstone with the Dornish and…and.

'That fucking child!' She wanted to scream to the heavens her frustration, her plans to be Queen were slowly being buried in the dust. Why? The rebellion was bringing the worst sides of everyone at the moment. There were Lords that wanted to kneel back and plea forgiveness to the Targaryens, the one she attempts to actively court and brother to the usurper Robert being one. Others clearly nominated for a Great Council and even a few more dared, even brought to light the fact that many wanted to be independent once more. Which meant, no Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, no Iron Throne anymore. And the only viable candidate to take the throne in these times. Was a reluctant boy who clung to his property instead of seeking more.

Let it be known by the seven, Stannis is a cowardly prick of a fuck! If Robert Baratheon was a drunkard whoremonger, his brother was a craven dull bastard who might even be a closet pillow-biter. She tried it everything, revealing dornish outfits, traditional westerland outfits, all types of dresses Lannister gold could buy.

None worked.

"You're going to do whatever it needs to be done to get Stannis Baratheon's attention. Whatever he wants you shall give. Do your duty before the Tullys realize what they've given away."

Get out! Take her out before I grow angry!

No one in the seven Kingdoms has ever denied Cersei Lannister or her beauty, except him. The one she fawned over and that died, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The one whom cursed her to only see yet never have. Her dragon prince flew away and never did she even managed to be close to him at all. Now here she was trying to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms that might even come to dissolve themselves after this clusterfuck of a mess. Did the gods played all Westeros for a fool by making them believe? As she was outside the Baratheon Lord's tent she served herself some wine, she had on her dress's bag a tiny shot of some dozing that she bought from some travelling minstrel-maester. It guaranteed even the strongest of men would fall asleep under it, her original plan was to have a drink with Lord Baratheon and then charm him to bed, then she would have to accept her as Queen. She would've fulfilled her duty. The sound of whoa's and wandering noises were heard and she turned her head to meet a soldier from a Stormland's house and by his side a young boy with dark hair staring at his surroundings with wonder. A six year old dark-haired boy pointed towards the many tents and sigils he stared at his surroundings.

"Lord Renly…"

She brought her goblet near to her lips and she sipped, on her face a sinister grin. So shall the Eldest brother shall regret denying her.

'I shall be Queen, I and no one else.'

---

Eddard II

The heavy smell of lavender, lilacs and rosewater in the air invaded his nose as the spider approached. The Power of a Kingdom's secrets in the hand of one man who was a stranger. He preferred having someone as Brynden Rivers who was near to Gaemon's family than the Spider who was a complete stranger. He didn't knew who the Spider was or what his true motives were, however having a Master of Whispers nearby to the family was the first step into getting to know the Spider. If the Legend of Brynden Rivers was anything to go by, he made the wisest choice by having Brynden perform his first steps as Master of Whispers. As he looked up to the parchment he was currently penning a list of offices, names and potential appointments upon. He used the list that Jon Arryn had proposed for Robert Baratheon and that he agreed to know which Lords were the ones that had to be put and compared it with a list of Key Loyalists on the side of the Targaryen's. Robert's list was:

Hand of the King: Lord Jon Arryn, that one stays as it is already.

Grand Maester: Pycelle, he scratched it entirely. And proposed another name by its side. Aemon Targaryen son of Maekar I. Pycelle was there when King's Landing was raided, he was a bad counselor. Therefore it was better to procure the position of Grand Maester near to the family and perhaps establish a precedent to the next years of always being a Targaryen Maester the Grand Maester of the Red Keep. With that settled he went for the next.

Master of Coin: Ser Kevan Lann-. He scratched it before even ending to read the title and name, Tywin's family on King's Landing was out. He won't have any westerlander on King's Landing, not after what they dared to do and nowhere near Gaemon. He'd rather die before having a single blond hair of any Lannister near the Capital at all.

Master of Laws/Master of Ships: Lord Stannis Baratheon, he frowned and thought about Stannis. It was better to leave him as Lord of the Stormlands, yet if he could occupy a position in the court it would favor with the Stormlords, Stannis was a firm man, he thought about the Velaryons and Targaryens. They were both near, if his Nephew was going to be a King. It will be good to be on the Good graces of the loyalists.

Master of Laws: Lord Stannis Baratheon/(Any Available Stormlord)

Master of Ships: Lord Lucerys Velaryon

He now had a balanced Small Council. Two Rebels in the form of Hand of the King Jon Arryn and Master of Laws Stannis Baratheon, and two Loyalists in Lord Lucerys Velaryon and Aemon Targaryen himself a sibling to a King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Master of Whispers: Varys.

He placed a question mark on Varys's name, and placed further text in it.

Master of Whispers: Varys? (Counter-Espionage and Sworn Shadow of the King: Lord Brynden Rivers -Bloodraven-)

He felt more satisfied with this, he'll have two spies. One in Varys and the other in Lord Brynden Rivers, that way he'll have someone to spy the rumored spy master.

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Gerold Hightower?

He felt compelled in elevating Ser Arthur Dayne's status, while Ser Gerold Hightower belongs to House Hightower, however that title is up for the members of the order to decide and not the Kings. He'll give the organization its due respect by letting them choose or remain with the same Lord Commander. Though he realizes something, it's only Four. Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold. Three positions to fill. Ser Oswell is a good representative of the Riverlands, Ser Arthur a good representative of Dorne, Ser Barristan a Good Representative of the Stormlands and Ser Gerold of the Reach. The Westerlands won't be denied but he'll have to investigate under heavy scrutiny any good Westerlander with enough honor to ditch lannister gold and serve. That would only leave the North vacant. His thoughts stayed with the North and any knights that might serve, he frowned and found it so hard.

'I'll announce between Northern men a vacant position for a northern knight in my Nephew's kingsguard. That'll leave two vacant positions.' He shrugged and turned back to the list, the only vacant position in the Small Council was the Master of Coin. He wondered in names that could be dropped.

*Lord Mace Tyrell

*Prince Doran Martell

He frowned and closed the scroll, pocketing it near his chest to keep it from the eyes of others. Brynden Rivers's status as living was something he chose to keep in secret. Not even the Targaryen's knew that. What was the purpose of a Sworn Shadow when he was exposed to the entirety of the realm. A spy was better known by the few and doing his duty well. And right now, he had the advantage over the elusive Spider. The Master of Whispers's a plump bodied man with a bald head. Wearing silk, velvet robes and sandals; yet he couldn't let his guard down with the eunuch. His appearance and manner could apparently change in an instant based on the accounts of Arthur and his sworn brothers. Any false step from the man, and he might find himself in between the Bloodraven's teeth. He shan't hesitate to pit the Spymaster of Aerys to the blade of the Bloodraven.

"Ah, it is truly good to have you with us again, Lord Stark. I was informed you wished to see me?" The eunuch asked like the picture of innocence and dutiful service. A well kept facade, one that had to be applauded and revered to the man.

"You were the one who alerted the Kingsguard about Robert's death. Do not bother to deny it." He accused bluntly, not even bothering with any pretense of formality. The eunuch blinked as if he was actually surprised. Which he of course wasn't.

"You misjudge me, my Lord. I intended no such thing. I was, after all, the one who tracked Prince Rhaegar down to begin with for King Aerys, so that Ser Gerold could retrieve him. I even proved that same information as well, so that you might find your sister. So, it stands to reason that only I would be able to send Ser Arthur here the message regarding Lord Robert's passing, so soon after it had occurred. Especially with Lord Arryn doing his best to prevent word from spreading. My little bird was quite exhausted riding out to reach the Tower of Joy before you had arrived. Perhaps the gods truly do exist, for they must have been smiling upon us, given that he did manage it." He gave his own broad, sweeping smile to both Arthur and himself in turn.

"Now that you have returned, safe and whole, how might I be of service to you?"

He continued to study the eunuch intently, who, to his credit seemed completely unperturbed by his evaluation, as though his life or death wasn't currently being weighted at that very moment. Even though it was. 'I'll have to keep the illusion there's no other capable Master of Whispers as he is. For the sake of giving Bloodraven a leverage.

"Of service to me, is it? Tell me, did you not swear a new oath of loyalty to Robert a few months ago, Lord Varys?" He bit with contempt.

"Indeed I did, Lord Stark. Which is why I wrote that letter after Lord Robert had already passed. So sad that, though quite fortunate for you, as it turs out." The eunuch glanced pointedly at the bassinet to his side with the now sleeping young prince in it.

"And how did you manage to come to such a conclusion?" He asked, keeping exact meaning vague, although he doubted it fooled the Spider for a second.

'Touch even a hair on Gaemon's head and you'll be meeting The Bloodraven.' His thoughts bit silently towards the eunuch. Said eunuch only chuckled, apparently finding Eddard's attempts at subterfuge amusing.

"As you no doubt already suspect, my Lord. I've had each of the city gates under careful watch, to alert me the moment you had returned. Oh, but you need not to be concerned, as per Lord Arryn's instructions I had already cleared the areas of all other spies, so no one knows of your arrival just yet…or more importantly, of the two curious additions you've brought with you."

"And did you know beforehand, Lord Varys?" He retorted, deciding to stop dancing around the matter, but he took note of it.

'He knows of Aemon but not of Bloodraven. I'll need to notify Lord Brynden of The Spider's spies all over the realm.' He complimented his thoughts.

"Truthfully, my Lord?" No, I did not." The admission seemed to visibly cause him pain.

"When I sent that letter. I thought I was simply reaching out to the last remnants of the Kingsguard. I had hoped the gesture would be the first step in allowing me to recruit them to my cause later on, once they had made their escape. At the time, I simply surmised that they were keeping your sister confined on Prince Rhaegar's orders… never imagining that they were in fact, protecting the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. I did not peg the late Crown Prince to be such an adherent to his family's traditions… like taking multiple wives."

Ser Arthur's hand suddenly reached behind his back and tightened around Dawn's pommel. But the eunuch still maintained his same serene expression.

"And what is your cause exactly, Lord Varys? You seem to have so many, jumping from king to king, from side to side. From Aerys to Robert. And now to me? How can I trust someone with your… shifting loyalties?" Ned questioned sharply, his eyes searching for any sign that might let him get a better read of the man's intent.

Under the Lord of Winterfell's cold gaze, the Spider bowed humbly. "Why, my cause has always been the same, my lord. Peace. Peace and order, for the people and the realm. I swear it by my lost manhood that, even if you should doubt everything else about me, never doubt that. It is the realm that I serve above all else. And as it seems that you, and your nephew, are what is best for the realm, I swear that I will serve you, faithfully and truly, and dedicate my all to seeing your reigns prosper. Because I know there is no better chance for the people or the realm, then the both of you."

It was an admirable answer. If a treacherous one still. Even if he was telling the truth, there was no guarantee that he would always believe Ned and Prince Gaemon, were what was best for the realm, or his interpretation of it anyway. "And if I should think that the realm would be better served by cutting off your treasonous head and putting it on a spike?" Ned mused idly.

"Then I would gladly bring the block and wash my neck for your convenience, my lord."

Eddard tsked at the man's lowered profile. His threats were a bluff and Varys knew it. Though his suspicions and mistrust of the eunuch were of the highest order, Ned recognized that he, more than anyone else, needed the Spider's web of information and influence if he wanted to have any hope of staying in power. 'At least until Bloodraven has a meaningful hold over the realm, only then Varys's purpose will no longer be of use.' He thought sharply as he gazed at the eunuch.

"Then I would have you prove your newfound loyalty, immediately. Starting with finding the names of all the men directly involved in the murders of Princess Elia and her children."

The eunuch let out a delighted giggle upon hearing his new orders. Perplexed by the man's sudden bout of mirth Ned was about to ask what was so funny, before the Spider pulled out a wrapped scroll of parchment and placed it on the desk right in front of Eddard. "I anticipated your request as soon as you had sent word to Jon Arryn of your return, my lord. Your outcry over the deaths of the royal family and dispute with Lord Robert was rather infamous by the time you had departed south, so I thought it prudent to begin my investigation and have this list ready for you upon your arrival, Lord Stark."

Ned just let out an inexplicit grunt of acknowledgement as he reached for the list, torn between being both impressed and unnerved at just how well the Spider had anticipated events. And wary at how efficiently he had hedged his bets by preparing just the right bargaining chips.

Still, his antipathy towards the Master of Whisperers could not prevent the feeling of satisfaction washing over him as Ned felt the weight of the parchment in his hands.

"Well done, in that case. However, next time be aware you will have an escort accompanying you wherever you go whilst carrying out your duties, probably one of the Kingsguard when available since you'll likely need a more discreet presence given your line of work. A permanent watch will also be established at your chambers, and they will be checking on you at random intervals to ensure you're still in there. I apologize for any discomfort this may bring, but you'll simply have to endure it until I am satisfied that you truly will honor your pledge."

Varys acceded to that demand easily enough, with a polite nod of acknowledgement. Part of Ned wondered just how effective such measures would truly be. But he'd given the eunuch fair warning now, so he would have no excuse for the consequences if he was caught next time. Hopefully that would be enough to at least keep him in check.

"Since you've already taken care of this first matter, I'll be assigning you to the task of using your contacts in Essos to locate and recall all the previously exiled lords under Aerys and kept there by Robert. Lord Owen Merryweather, Jon Connigton, etc. But especially Lord Connigton." Arthur had been rather insistent on the latter's return.

And Ned could have use for a man so staunchly loyal to the memory of the late Prince Rhaegar. Flicking his cup to point at the eunuch now, he added, "I'll also need you to collect all your notes on notable individuals of the realm together. Combine them into general summaries for myself and Lord Arryn to look over later."

Varys bowed deeply in obedience, his arms pushed outward while disappearing into the opposite sleeves of his robe. "Of course, my lord. I'll set my little mice in the Free Cities to it at once. And are there any specific individuals' reports that you wish for me to work on right now?"

"Just the current High Septon, Lord Tywin Lannister... and Lord Mace Tyrell, by late supper tonight anyway." Ned listed in a seemingly nonchalant tone.

The Spider didn't miss the implication of that last name however, bringing his head back up with an intrigued gaze. "I will see to it immediately, my lord," allowing a small, impressed smile to form over his powdered cheeks.

As he got up and made his way to leave however, Varys abruptly stopped at the entrance to turn back to Ned, and delivered one final gift to celebrate their new partnership.

"Oh, my apologies my lord. With all the excitement of your arrival I nearly forgot to inform you of something in my role as your Master of Whisperers now."

A bit taken aback at the Spider actually volunteering information for free, Ned felt his guard go up, but couldn't prevent his curiosity from eventually asking. "And what else did you feel the need to tell me this evening, Lord Varys?"

"I would recommend you do something regarding Grand Maester Pycelle, my lord. He was the one who convinced King Aerys to open the city gates to Lord Tywin's army prior to your own arrival, which directly led to the Sack. In fact, he has been an informant for Lord Tywin ever since his tenure as Hand of the King, and long after he left that office. I can provide you with all the necessary evidence, if you wish to pursue the matter further."

Ned was so dumb struck by the sudden discovery that a maester of the Citadel had so thoroughly betrayed all his sacred oaths and vows, that he couldn't even question the eunuch as to when exactly he had learned all of this and why he never informed Aerys or Robert before now. Instead he just nodded his head mutely, which Varys seemed to take as leave to go, and bowed once mored before promptly disappearing from the chamber.

Slumping back into his chair, completely spent by the recent ordeal, Ned stared pensively at his reflected image in the red liquid of his cup for a time, feeling equally reflective on this latest revelation. Rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers, back and forth, as he weighed his options, he finally turned to address the man at his side.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Arrest Grand Maester Pycelle. Quietly… but immediately."

There was a pause. Clearly, he had caught the Sword of the Morning off guard. "On what charge, my lord?"

Ned drained the rest of his cup, before crashing it back down with authority. "For conspiracy in the death of Robert Baratheon."

"Maester Aemon. I want you to send a letter to the Citadel, tell them that the Iron Throne has had a shift in power and that you are now to serve as GrandMaester of the Red Keep. If they want to hear my bold claim any further, then I shall send them Pycelle's head. Also, be sure to scurry up to the last bit of information on Pycelle's whatever is necessary to put dirt in Pycelle enough to have him beheaded by my blade."

---

A Day Later

A good headache has been relieved within the Tower of the Hand in the early morning. Ned and Jon Arryn have broken their fast in the Latter's solar, today would be the most critical moment of their lives and they needed to ensure everything went off as perfectly as possible. Nearly all of the Lords and Ladies present in King's Landing would be arriving soon for tonight's event. Even as they were left in the dark as to the exact purpose for the gathering. Most were still in the impression that, with the word of his return now having spread, that they were finally proceeding with the logical step of calling a Great Council at last. Not were they really aware that both Ned and Jon Arryn had secretly transferred their personal household retinues from their respective camps into the Red Keep, throughout the previous night. Once all of the guests were inside, their men had orders to seal the castle off behind them, no one would be getting in or out, until the evening's ceremony was over, and they had all sworn their fealty. One way or another.

"It has to be Tywin, the first meeting you'll have it with Tywin Lannister. It's the only way to pacify that Old Lion." Jon discussed the respective meetings in the afternoon, along with a list of potential appointments for both major and minor offices to to both rebuild the Realm's administration and dole out the necessary favors to various minor lords in order to buy off their support, when a panting steward very short of breath interrupted.

Both jumped out of their chairs. He rushed out over to the entrance, taking the sealed scroll the steward held out. There was only one reason to interrupt them so abruptly and it caused Ned's hand to shake upon seeing the red sealing wax with the image of the tri-headed dragon, the seahorse of Driftmark and the sun of the Martell. Fastened onto the rolled up letter. Even Jon Arryn had to gulp, his worse fears confirmed. Dorne had reached to the Targaryen in lightning speed and it is a big possibility that they were already rallying behind Viserys and Princess Rhaenys. Breaking it immediately, he began to read through what it said as he dismissed the steward and made his way back to his seat, with Jon arryn following suit.

"Well? What did she said?" Jon inquired, staring at the parchment in his hands across the breakfast table, clearly of them had actually expected Queen Rhaella to respond quite so soon, though both were glad for it. The sooner they could resolve the matter of reunifying the two branches of House Targaryen, the sooner they could deal with the potential problems behind a singular purpose, rather than cosntantly worrying if the other side would turn on them instead.

"She says that she's read and understands the implications of our last series of messages. She also accepts our invitation back to King's Landing, so that she might ascertain for herself if the boy truly is her grandson, provided my offer of safe conduct is still in place. She actually underlines that last portion." He motioned with a smile.

Jon matched his smile. "Your reputation for integrity does precede you, Ned. Perhaps she even heard the tale about how you protested against the deaths of her good-daughter. It was all anyone gossiped about in the tents and the Red Keep after you left."

"Aye, I suppose it does pay off from time to time after all. She also says she will be willing to surrender Viserys's crown and her own as his Queen Regent if she concludes that is indeed the case, and is prepared to acknowledge Gaemon as the rightful heir. No mention about my own status as regent for the lad, but we can work out that very detail later when she arrives. She even says that she will be bringing Viserys too, along with…" Ned's voice suddenly dropped, his eyes widening as saucer plates. "What? What is it?' Jon questioned with something approaching a mild case of panic now, wondering what condition the Queen might have added and if it could potentially jeopardize everything just as they were coming so close to an agreement.

Mutely, Ned just handed the letter over to Jon as he leaned onto his chair rest, holding up his head while idly massaging it with his fingers as he tried to process what he had just read.

Quickly the Lord of the Eyrie scanned through the contents until he reached the part Ned had left off at. His head immediately recoiled in shock, slumping back into his seat while dropping the letter onto his lap in disbelief.

"The Queen is… she… she's…."

"Pregnant," Ned finished with a barely held whisper.

And just as quickly, Jon Arryn sat back up, leaning forward across the table excitedly now. "This... this could change everything, Ned!"

"We don't know that, Jon. She doesn't give any indication about the gender in the letter. Another prince would complicate things slightly, but no more than when we discussed how to deal with the issue of Prince Viserys," he tried to temper with an even voice, though it was facade crumbling fast under the weight of Ned's own conflicted emotions.

Clearly his reaction confused his foster father as well. "But if it's a girl, Ned..."

"We have no guarantee of that written anywhere, Jon," he said flatly, almost in denial really.

"Be that as it may," Jon persisted. "Rhaella wouldn't have explicitly mentioned it here if it wasn't relevant. So if it is a girl, then it would cause problems to your Nephew and his half-sister."

"I know!" He exclaimed harshly under his breath, more so than he intended. Realizing this, he pulled back into his seat to meet his foster father's eyes at last. Apologetic. "I know jon."

"Ned, what's wrong? We should be happy about a possibility, so why-?"

He let out a frustrated growl. "Because it's only a possibility. If we commit to holding out for the uncertainty of Queen Rhaella having a daughter or even Dorne accepting to hand out Princess Rhaenys after…all this. We lose one of our best bargaining pieces, especially for this afternoon's meeting. And we need this particular meeting to go well, almost as much as we need to shore up my nephew's legitimacy."

"You're worried about losing short-term gain, for only a potential long-term one."

'Not when we talk about the Lannisters knowing they can team up with the Reach.' He frowned, he hated knowing that he won't be able to negotiate with his nephew.

"Given the timing, and that she's willing to travel here in her condition, it'll likely still be months before the baby is born. When we need that support now. How are we supposed to make decisions based on what ifs? Can we afford to risk it, Jon?"

"We can't afford to." Jon Arryn stated, without hesitation. "Acceptance of your nephew's legitimacy is at the center of everything, Ned. It has to be Ironclad, if it's to withstand the pressure that's almost certain to come. Everything else we do will fall apart anyway if it isn't." He frowned.

"The plan was-."

"I know what the plan was, Ned. But things don't always go to plan. You've had some well thought out ones up to this point, that's true. But you also have to be ready to adapt when new circumstances arise, If you hope to be able to survive in this office." His foster father chastised.

"It's not that I don't understand your trepidation Ned. Even if we exclude the possibility of another son, there's always the chance the baby may not even survive, given the Queen's previous history with Childbirth. With Princess Rhaenys here in the Red Keep we keep Dorne at bay and with Rhaella we keep all loyalists at bay too. This isn't a decision with a simple answer that you can just use sheer force of will to solve, like you've been up to now. What's required here isn't swords, or money, but the subtle art of negotiation."

He proceeded to throw his head back, looking up at the ceiling while covering his face with his hands as he groaned in exasperation.

"We just need more time, and it's the one thing we're absolutely short on, Jon. We can't delay the ceremony, otherwise everyone will discover our intentions, and have a chance to organize and mount an opposition. And we can't go through with the ceremony without those commitments in place, which will have no guarantee of receiving without my nephew's han-!"

"Then we'll just have to change tactics for this afternoon, and find a way to buy us that additional time." The soon-to-be Hand of the King said calmly, mulling over the issue closed his eyes and a stray tear cascaded down his eyes. It will hurt. Was this when his father meant about Duty and Honor.

'If I remember correctly, Lord Gerold informed me of his nephew Lord Leyton Hightower. His second daughter married Lord Mace Tyrell and had a son named Willas.' He frowned, the Northern Lords might've chained his hands regarding his son and heir's marriage in the south, but that didn't meant that his first daughter's won't be.

'I shall arrange a marriage between my daughter and Lord Mace Tyrell's heir, that way it'll tie the Tyrell's with my nephew and my family in the Long Run. Catelyn will be angered massively with me, but it'll be necessary.' He thought sadly.

"And I think I might have an idea on how to do just that, actually."

'I'll leave Gaemon's marriage to his Grandmother, she is after all the representative and head of House Targaryen.' He sighed and frowned, that won't mean he won't be the last one to decide about it at all.

*Pik* *Pik*

The sound of a beak hitting on the wooden window of the Hand's Tower made both turn to see a big red northern cardinal in cleaning it's feathers, on one of its talons a letter.

"A red bird?"

'Red Wings.' He thought shivering, only one person would be subtle yet also obvious on its letters and information gathering. Brynden Rivers. Getting up and picking the bird's letter, he opened it.

The Dragon Queen has been made aware of the bloodraven's presence serving as his grace's shadow. A Queen's court is shaken yet also reassured after hearing the Elder Dragon's words on her ears, words of courage and confidence about the northern wolf-uncle's intentions with the northern dragon. Beware a rose's thorns have been made aware of the northern dragon from a stray letter sent by the Head of the Guard. Beware of all blades aside of those in white, because they wear Golden Manes underneath their gold scales. An astute raven has taken hostage the leader, he has a few words to say before his end draws near.

A young lioness has prayed on a stag child and on a imprisoned young lion afterwards. Beware of her movements, she's her own aside from the Old Lion. She's erratic, she brings chaos alongside her. Don't trust her claim or those that take her side. A traumatized lion was the aftermath, a shield-brother to hear sorrows only. Negotiate the Old Lion, and do so well. Because the Stag will be out for the Lion before the night goes out. This crow has known bastards, moreso those that wish to claim the throne. Get rid of them or remove their claim altogether before it grows.

"Ned!"

He almost fell unconscious in shock, his foster father held him as the letter was almost dropped.

"What happened!?" He asked and all he could feel was disgust. The Old Lion's daughter was an even worse chaos than the Old Lion himself. The Old Lion left his daughter go unwatched and wretch an even worse mess of the realm than it already was. 'She raped Renly then her brother.' He frowned, she intended to have a child of her brother feign as a Baratheon to then have him claim the throne when not even Robert was crowned?

He frowned even worse. If Bloodraven spoke of this being dire it's because it is.

"We'll have to act fast, I'll meet with Tywin."

'And address this with Stannis himself. No doubt the stormlords will be out for blood after Renly tells Stannis how he was raped."

It was never easy to surprise a man like Tywin Lannister. So Ned didn't even bother to suppress the feeling of immense satisfaction welling up inside of him as he witnessed the man's furrowed golden brows shoot straight up at the sight of Ser Gerold greeting him past the opened chamber door. Just as the Warden of the West was trying to recompose himself however, his brows froze where they were as the Lord Commander moved aside to reveal Ser Arthur standing beside Ned as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then his nostrils flared at the sight of the bassinet and squirming babe inside.

Trust Tywin Lannister to recognize the full implication after one glance. And the danger he was now in.

Ned had to admit a reluctant admiration at how the Lord of Casterly Rock still managed to quickly smooth his features out back to their usual stoic form once again as he stiffly walked inside, despite the circumstances. Ned noted those harsh features had not changed since he'd last seen the Lion of Lannister, with the same tall, slim body and broad shoulders, along with the bald head that he kept shaved, though maintaining his bushy golden side whiskers. Finally, Ned gestured towards the chair in front of the desk.

"Lord Stark," Lord Tywin nodded before taking the offered seat. His cold green eyes lingered on the bassinet for a time, watching as little Jon fidgeted in his swaddling clothes, before returning to face Ned.

"I see your trip down south proved more... fruitful, than any of us had imagined."

"It was eventful to say the least, Lord Tywin. Though not without its losses. My sister ended up losing her life in giving birth to her son."

"My condolences," he replied, without a hint of actual sympathy in his tone.

Ned waved off the false courtesy. Polite banter was useless between these two men, and Ned didn't care to bother with the pretense. Especially since it wouldn't last. "I've grieved enough my lord, as have many during this war. Which is why I've asked to meet with you today. To discuss the future of this country… and how best to avoid repeating the tragedies of the past."

It was subtle, but Ned didn't think he was mistaken in noticing the sudden increase in tension throughout Tywin's frame.

"As you have no doubt already guessed, my lord, my nephew Prince Gaemon is the trueborn son of the late Crown Prince Rhaegar. Which makes him the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The formal announcement will be made later this evening, where the other lords and ladies will be able to swear their oaths of loyalty afterwards."

"I see," Tywin supplied in a neutral tone. "And do you believe the other lords and ladies will share that opinion, my lord?" he challenged.

"Their opinions do not change the facts," Ned answered frostily. "There are no other viable options now with Robert's passing, as you well know, my lord."

Tywin visibly scowled now at the reminder of Stannis' rebuttal to his offer of marrying his daughter Cersei, and assuming the throne himself. Before Ned had left King's Landing he was aware the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands had already been angling for the same thing with Robert, even as Robert refused to hear of it while holding out hope of retrieving Lyanna, ruined or not. With this second rejection Eddard had no doubt House Baratheon had forever earned the ire of the Lion of Lannister.

It was time to ensure House Stark joined that list.

"I'm sure you would agree that it is of vital importance that we reestablish the royal line as quickly as possible my lord, to calm the confusion and chaos of the past year. Yet given the tender years of my nephew, it would be prudent-,"

Tywin's patience finally ran out.

"Have the courtesy to call this what it is Stark, a blatant power grab. Embellishing does not suit you at all," he cut off bitterly, barely concealing the envy dripping out from his voice. "You obviously plan to name yourself as Lord Regent. Only a fool would fail to do otherwise when presented with such an opportunity, so I cannot fault you for that. Now, what is it that you want from me specifically, regarding this matter?"

Eddard flashed a rare, sharp smile now. "Your willing and public support for my elevation, to begin with my lord."

"And why should I do that?" the Lord of Casterly Rock sneered, though his bravado did not hide the quick glance he gave towards Arthur and Dawn's hilt peeking out from his side.

"For your son Jaimie, to start. He's currently confined within his chamber's in the White Sword Tower as we speak, awaiting sentencing for the crime of regicide," Ned retorted with complete bluntness.

Eddard noticed Tywin's grip constrict harder around his chair rest now, though he maintained the same granite etching across his face.

"I had an understanding with Robert that my son would be given a full pardon for his service to the Realm," he attempted to bluff. The sinking look in his green eyes told Ned that Tywin knew how weak the ground his argument was standing on actually was though.

"Which Robert never issued, as he had not formally ascended to the throne at the time of that process. As you are well aware, my lord," Eddard countered softly, not hiding the edge laced in his words and the warning within. He would not allow Tywin a single opening to wiggle free now that he was firmly nailed into the ground. And Ned would hammer that in for all it was worth.

If Tywin was concerned at all about the weak legal platform, he didn't let it show. "Are you threatening me, Stark?" he growled out instead.

"Merely stating our respective positions, my lord. While I would prefer to uphold Robert's wishes on this matter to the rest of the royal court, I also cannot simply just ignore the death of a previous king either. From a member of his own Kingsguard no less. And as Ser Jaimie has already admitted to the deed, we needn't bother with the formality of a trial, and can proceed straight to the sentencing."

"Who are you to sit in judgement of my son, Stark!? Of me!?" Tywin snarled out harshly.

"You, with Robert and Jon Arryn, plunged the entire realm into rebellion against that same king while dragging the rest of us along with you. Tell me that it didn't serve your interests to see members of my family take the burden of disposing of Aerys, a lawful sitting king, on your behalf!? Do you think the realm will fail to mark you for the self-righteous hypocrite you are?"

"Be that as it may, my lord, whether I wanted it or not, my position has changed from where I was a year ago. Something you should no doubt appreciate, given your past friendship with King Aerys." Ned retorted back frostily, causing Tywin to narrow his eyes in return at the deliberate strike on that old wound. "And as both a Lord and Warden, I can only exact justice under the law given the current circumstances. I have no authority, yet anyway, to issue a royal pardon myself."

"Ah. So it would benefit everyone if you were established in such a position. To handle such complicated legal matters on our behalf, is it?" Tywin mocked, scathingly.

"I'm sure you can sympathize with the burdens one must shoulder, my lord. For the sake of the realm, of course," he returned, letting the sarcasm absolutely drip from his voice now. Though Ned cared little for the double talk of the court, he had to admit, it was rather enjoyable agitating the mighty Tywin Lannister.

"And if I refuse to give it?" Tywin injected acidly. Though he obviously already knew the answer, he seemed determined to be as difficult as possible regardless.

Ned quickly slapped his defiance back down with not a little satisfaction. "You mistake me once again, my lord. I'm simply trying to clarify the natural result of either giving or withholding your allegiance. The decision is entirely up to you... and makes no real difference to me. Either way, you will be assisting me in proceeding forward, regardless. That much I can promise you."

Meaning Tywin's severed head serving as an example would be just as useful, if somewhat riskier, in Ned's consolidation of power as Tywin 'willingly' lending his support. It was a tactic the Lord of Casterly Rock was all too familiar with since the Rains of Castamere after all.

Tywin's jaw contorted for a moment as his barely suppressed rage started to bubble up again, before inhaling and then exhaling deeply from his flared nostrils, managing to calm himself at last.

"Fine, Stark. I will admit, your little princeling's veneer of legitimacy gives you the advantage right now. So I will concede to your... logic. It's likely too late to stop you, given you've already entrapped and separated me and every other lord here from the rest our men. Very clever of you. So I'll spare myself from giving you the excuse and satisfaction of finally exacting your 'justice' on my House, along your way." He spat the word justice out like it was poison on his tongue.

"But you would do well to be mindful of how far you can continue to trample all over those in your way, Stark, before your shining reputation for integrity fades, and everyone begins to label you the monster in my stead. And of how long until they turn on you for it."

It was strange, hearing Tywin Lannister of all people advise against cultivating a reputation for ruthlessness. But it was obvious he was actually baiting Ned, testing to see just how far he was willing to go, while simultaneously warning him of the consequences should Ned actually follow through. Ned refused to rise to it, he had already won the first battle after all.

It was time to win the second.

Smoothing out the ruffles along the sleeves of his tunic for a moment to regather himself, Ned gave out the expected meaningless platitude to start, hoping it would lower Tywin's guard again for the next blow. "Your cooperation is very much appreciated, my lord. I am sure that together, we will bring peace back to our troubled lands, and turn the page on a new chapter in our history."

All he got back was a disinterested grunt of affirmation, as Tywin held the left side of his face against his thumb and index fingers, while hiding his mouth behind the rest, studying Ned intently and cautiously. Cleary he was readying himself for what came next.

Ned chose to dispense with subtlety. "In the interest of turning that page however, we must resolve any… lingering issues that would prevent us from moving on. And become a potential source for future divisions. The most likely of which will come from Dorne. Which is why I would like to readdress the events surrounding the Sack again… and the deaths of the royal family."

Tywin seemed to grimace, but also did not appear surprised by the topic. "As I explained before, Lord Stark, I had no prior knowledge of the unfortunate event regarding Princess Elia."

"My nephew's stepmother and half-sister almost." Ned interrupted pointedly before deliberately placing his hand on the weaved edge of Jon's bassinet.

Tywin's cold eyes narrowed at that reminder of the new reality, but continued on. "Regardless, I stand by my statement. And categorically deny any accusation of involvement in the matter. Such things simply happen in war, Lord Stark. Surly your northerners have not been exempt from similar occurrences?" Tywin shrugged unconcerned, deliberately trying to downplay the scale of his army's depredations. He seemed to believe his acquiescence gave him some form of leverage now.

Ned quickly moved to disabuse him of that notion. "Perhaps, yet the responsibility still remains. And is not a lack of discipline in ones men the responsibility of their commander?" he tried to ask politely, though he wasn't sure he'd managed to entirely erase his disgust at Tywin's callous attitude.

Tywin's returning stare was absolutely mutinous now, causing Ned to smile internally even as he maintained a face of seeming obliviousness. Unlike many other lords who relied almost solely on their peasant levies and a small handful of experienced knightly retainers, Tywin had built the Lannister army from the ground up, installing a level of discipline and training unmatched by any other force currently in Westeros. He of all people could not legitimately refute Ned's reasoning after spending so much time and money on the endeavor, and thus that same dedication to turn them into professional soldiers made him responsible for their actions, regardless of whether he claimed ignorance of ordering the Sack or not.

"A point, Lord Stark" Tywin conceded in an almost pained voice, though he quickly countered. "Yet, I cannot simply punish my entire army over the actions of a few, nor do we know who those few-"

"Ser Gregor Clegane, Ser Amory Lorch, and all the men currently under their direct command," Eddard cut in testily. He was getting tired of these games.

His jaw now tightened in a grimace, and reluctant respect. "I see you had Lord Varys working on your behalf overnight. Impressive."

"He may have picked up a rumor or two," Ned tried to brush off, grudgingly impressed Tywin could immediately deduce Varys involvement from only one spoken line.

"Lord Stark, rumors are abound right now. I caution you in relying purely on hearsay and… whispers. Without solid proof that these accusations ar-"

"If you or the accused have any objections to the charges, my lord, then we can simply hold a trial here in court, where I can present all the evidence for yours, and the realm's, inspection. I'm sure we will learn the truth of the matter in due time, and I suspect House Martell would not object to such a request."

For the first time since Tywin Lannister walked in and sat in this room, Ned saw panic creep into the man's eyes. Perhaps… even fear.

Until now, Tywin could at least be reasonably certain Eddard would not kill him outright, however much he might personally want to, in order to avoid an image of tyranny along with igniting a new civil war, so long as Tywin avoided giving him an excuse. But if the truth behind the Sack were to be dragged out into the public light however, the outrage and disgust would sweep even those lords who were ambivalent over his actions, and compel many of them to condemn him. And Ned could transfer that outrage into support, turning a costly and only potentially marginal victory, into an all but certain one.

Yet, he would not be Tywin Lannister if he could not quickly smother that flicker out and immediately regroup however. Which he still was, and did.

"And if these men were to come into your custody, my lord? What then?" he demanded.

"I would condemn them to death before the court, and then hand them over to an emissary from House Martell, to be returned to Sunspear where they will carry out the sentence."

Tywin was not pleased by that answer.

"Then that would lead to the same end as your 'trial'. The dornish will peel out a false confession in order to taint my good name, once they have them in their grasp. So why should I simply hand them over for your little mummer's farce, Stark?" Tywin argued angrily, almost daring Ned now.

Eddard did not hesitate to answer with absolute viciousness in every word.

"If not, I will simply sentence your son in their place after all. And then I will personally cut off his head before mounting it on a spike outside the Red Keep as you watch. And if you attempt to object, or call your banners against me, I will immediately mark you as a traitor to the realm, and have yours mounted right alongside his. I'm sure the Martells will be quite happy to take your skull in place of your dogs back to Dorne instead, if that were the case. Also, if it was not clear before my lord, now I am threatening you."

Tywin face blanched for a moment, and then stormed out from his chair right up to Eddard, slamming his fist atop the desk with unbridled rage. Ned raised his hand at the sudden sound of swords being unsheathed, freezing both Ser Gerold and Arthur in place as they each took one respective, menacing step forward; grips tight around their handles in midair.

Tywin paid them no notice, his eyes burning like wildfire and completely fixed upon Ned.

"Do you really think I would ever allow you to intimidate me, Stark!? That the wolf can order the lion like one of the sheep!? Or that I value my life so much that I would trade away the pride and dignity of my House like a dockside whore?! I will tear down everything you try to build, even in death, before I ever let that happen again!" Tywin roared in Ned's grim and unmoving face.

Ned let out a snort of dismissal, completely unperturbed by Tywin's tirade. If anything he felt more confident in his belief that he had the Warden of the West exactly where he wanted him, if Tywin's impassive façade was finally starting to crack.

Still, it wouldn't do to be overconfident in the strength of his position. An angry and humiliated lion needed to be handled cautiously. So Ned finally put down his whip to give the lion his carcass offering.

"I simply stopped to answer your question, my lord. You did not let me finish. Because in exchange for your cooperation, I am willing to give you what you desire most."

At that, Tywin looked incredulous, slowly falling back into his chair clearly wondering what Ned was getting at. "And what is it you think I desire that somehow only you can provide, Stark?"

"The same thing you're afraid I will take away from you. Your son."

Tywin started at that. "Excuse me?"

"To put it simply I will, on my authority as Lord Regent, release your son from his obligations and duties as a member of the Kingsguard."

"The Kingsguard serve for life," Tywin recited blankly as if he thought Ned had clearly forgotten that fact.

"And the Kingsguard are also supposed to guard the king's life," Ned pointed out sarcastically.

Tywin clamped his jaw tightly, unamused, but his silence signaled no retort was forthcoming, so Ned continued.

"While it would be unprecedented, your son's case is unique enough to warrant the consideration. Provided that I am still able to issue his pardon, in any event. In which case, his dismissal remedy's both our concerns. Yours regarding the succession within House Lannister, and I managing to excise a black mark from the institution of the Kingsguard."

"I'm surprised you of all people would offer such a compromise, Stark," Tywin said, showing the first signs of actually being somewhat impressed.

Ned didn't respond to the observation at first. He was too busy wrestling with the disgust and self-loathing he felt inside his gut for the deal he was about to make. It had cost him many sleepless nights coming to terms with himself after the idea had been first presented to him from the most unlikely of sources.

"Sometimes we surprise ourselves with what we are capable of, when pushed towards the edge."

"Indeed," Tywin seemed to agree amicably, though the hint of warning that the situation could reverse itself if Ned pushed the Lord of Casterly Rock to his limit again was evident in his tone.

Ned remained unfazed by Tywin's subtle bravado. It wouldn't last, and Ned was eager to move on to that more pleasant task. But Tywin Lannister was not one to miss an opportunity to seize back the momentum now that it presented itself to him again. And he did, with all the hunger of a lion running down its prey.

"And you will not pursue this matter any further afterwards? There will be no more inquiries of any other involvement once the men are in your custody?" he questioned, suspicious, though with a clear hint of interest now.

"The Crown would, on its face… accept your previous explanations on the matter, my lord," Ned managed to force through his clenched teeth, though it still galled him to even utter the words.

"And I would have your word on that?" Tywin insisted sharply.

This was the moment, the question Ned had been dreading to hear since he first agreed to Ser Gerold's proposal. Ned's word was his bond. If he gave it then he would honor it, no matter the consequences, and Tywin knew that all too well. Now, the responsibility of letting Tywin Lannister escape all culpability for his crimes would fall squarely onto Ned's shoulders. He would have to live with that guilt, that betrayal of justice, for the rest of his days.

The soft cries beside him reminded Ned why the decision had already been made.

For a while, Tywin simply leaned back into his chair and carefully measured Eddard's reaction. After his long moment of agonizing internal struggle had finally passed, he gave a slow nod of acquiescence.

Tywin returned it politely enough. After all, he had clearly won out on this exchange.

"Then for the sake of our new... understanding, Lord Stark, I would like to speak with the accused privately before you hand them over to House Martells custody. I will ensure they give a full, and truthful, confession prior to the dornish delegations arrival for the record… so that they cannot rescind it afterwards."

Ned had to take a long, final fortifying breathe, before getting on with it. "Granted," he conceded, cutting off the last of his regret over another hard decision. And another sin on his conscious.

Eager to extract himself from this distasteful collaboration to bury the truth, Eddard decided he would take his time to relish this next moment. "There is one other matter we must take care of before I can send you and your son along your way back to Casterly Rock, my lord. Regarding your responsibility"

The sense of triumph permeating from Tywin earlier instantly gave way to an air of caution now. One victory did not change his disadvantage, but he would not make it easy for Ned, whatever he wanted. "I believe I've already given you your 'justice', my lord."

"For the murder of Princess Elia. Not for the Sack itself."

"And again, my lord, do you expect me to punish my entire army for a… momentary lapse? One that occurs in every war? After they marched here in support of your cause?" he challenged now.

Ned's pleasant smile caused Tywin to halt his condescension. His next words would completely erase it. "Of course not my lord. That would be impractical and ill-advised for all involved. Which is why it would be simpler for you to merely pay for all the damages caused to King's Landing in the course of your support. Which also includes compensating the city's residents for their losses, and provide them with a fund to help reestablish themselves and their livelihoods."

Tywin went completely still.

Ned had now drawn the line. Tywin Lannister would give up every man in his army without a second thought if it gave him an advantage. But his gold… his gold was the very bedrock of House Lannister's power. Yet the fund was the most crucial element Ned needed to come away with from this meeting. While justice for Princess Elia and her children were of great personal imperative to Ned, along with placating Dorne, it was secondary to the more immediate concern regarding any misgivings the common people of the capital might have about the succession. All their potential objections would be rendered mute with the promise of fistfuls of gold shoved into their faces.

"Compensation!? For lowborn commoners!?" Tywin snapped now, completely incredulous. He looked fit to gag at the very notion.

"For subjects under the direct care of the crown," Ned reminded, starting to enjoy himself.

"If you do not wish to make willing restitution, which the crown will accept anonymously so that you might avoid any appearance of admitting guilt, we could hold an official inquiry instead. Likely it would condemn you in the eyes of the entire realm. Then I would have no choice but to hold you and your son indefinitely, until such time as your House makes good on the debt. Lannisters do still always pay their debts, don't they my lord?"

Personally Ned would have liked nothing more than to do just that. But it would potentially make lords and soldiers nervous and unwilling to fight in any potential future war if they were expected to pay for the damages they caused along the way. More importantly, a secret transfer would allow Ned to claim all the credit on Jon's behalf in the eyes of the city's residents, bolstering the image and support for the crown. Rather than whisper about ungodly marriages or potential bastards taking the throne, the people would instead sing the boy's praises in lieu of their good fortune. And Ned fully planned to make sure Tywin's freedom cost him a fortune.

The Lion of Lannister's brief listlessness gave way to a barely held fury. But he held it in, likely to avoid his own words being used against him again.

Using the momentary pause, Ned reached over to place a rolled up scroll of parchment in front of the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin scowled before reluctantly taking and unfurling it out of sheer morbid curiosity now. His scowl soon gave way to a pale sickness that soon spread once he began to read.

"…. 'to give an amount as sufficiently needed!?' What is this Stark!? There's no number on this agreement!"

Ned shrugged, as though that was somehow a perfectly normal occurrence. "We haven't had a chance to discuss and calculate a final tally for repairing the city yet, what with all the recent chaos unfortunately. And I thought it best to leave some leeway in the event of unexpected costs along the way. Or should opportunities to make improvements arise as well."

Ned heard the parchment crumple so hard he wondered if it had turned to dust in Tywin's grasp. No matter, he had several more copies at the ready and continued uninterrupted.

"We'll also need flexibility in the final amount, if we are to meet the needs of the necessary restitution. The citizens of King's Landing have suffered much during the recent tragedy after all, and we must account for their obvious distress and discomfort during the resettlement. I of course assume that won't be a problem though. You can certainly afford it, my lord."

And with that, Ned held out a new copy and a quill.

"Our account will be balanced after this. So in the interest of avoiding an even greater cost and putting this behind us, please sign it my lord."

The sour twist on Tywin's face made it seem as if he had swallowed a whole bowl of lemons, but he took the offered feather nonetheless and scratched his name on the document. Then he pressed his ring seal onto the hot wax Ned 'graciously' poured next to it, before throwing the quill down hard onto the desk in absolute disgust.

"Go on then, Stark. Take your blood price. May all that ill-gotten gold drown you."

Ned chose not to respond and agitate his opponent any further, simply taking the scroll back politely. He let the silence hang for a long time afterwards, before speaking again.

"Very good then. I'll see to speaking with the architects about an estimate for the first payment immediately. Now that we've finalized the details of our new arrangement, I also believe all we need is to ensure its continued good faith. As such the crown would appreciate a public gesture to demonstrate that we have indeed turned the page on this… ugly saga in our history. Which is why I would invite your second son, Tyrion, to accompany the initial gold shipment and serve as the crown's ward and my personal cup-"

"Done."

Ned paused mid-sentence, unable to keep the grimace of disgust from his face at the prompt, almost eager, way with which Tywin had just agreed to turn over his other son. He truly did not care at all what happened to the boy, which also meant his value as a potential hostage to Ned was effectively none. Still, the gesture needed to be made, as Ned would likely have to make similar demands of other lords with uncertain loyalties. And it was likely the only remaining concession Tywin would willingly agree to after Ned had already pushed him so far towards his limit.

Ned had initially considered having Tywin send his daughter Cersei to the capital instead, who would have been a far more effective hostage. But Jon Arryn had staunchly opposed the idea, convincing Ned it wasn't worth it. It was possible… no likely, Tywin would balk rather than allow House Lannister to suffer the humiliation of being under Ned's thumb indefinitely, even at the risk of its possible destruction. And getting the necessary gold to help secure the rest of kingdoms was more important than keeping just the Westerlands in check.

Not that Ned would take his eye off the Westerlands anytime soon. Whatever notion of balancing their account which Ned had tried to feign, he didn't doubt for a second that Tywin would begin plotting to avenge these slights a hundred times over as soon as he and his son were safely away. But that was a worry for another time. For now at least, the ceremony and celebrations would allow Ned to hold on to the pair long enough for the first gold shipments to arrive.

"I'm sure you have a number of arrangements to see to my lord, so I shan't hold you any longer. Please, allow Lord Commander Gerold to escort you to a private chamber where you may pen the necessary instructions to your brother, Kevan. He and Ser Oswell will accompany the courier back to your camp, to ensure the task is carried out thoroughly. And to guard against any… mishaps, along the way."

Tywin abruptly stood, apparently glad to finally take his leave. Yet at the exit, he stopped to turn back for a brief moment.

"Well played, Stark. I underestimated how strong a stomach you had for the game. Know that it won't happen again."

Perhaps not. But Ned doubted it would be the last time he managed to surprise Tywin Lannister either. The next one likely coming far sooner than the Lord of Casterly Rock expected. The thought brought a small smile to Ned's lips as he watched the Warden of the West go, Ser Gerold shadowing his every step.

He called for Martyn immediately afterwards. "You may send for Lord Tyrell now," he instructed calmly.

The day was only just beginning. And there was still work to be done before its end.

---

Dragonstone

383 A.C.

The Dragon Queen's Court

"Imposible! This is impossible!" Lucerys Velaryon roared as he combed his head in denial, it cannot be true. They were now tied against the wall when they used to have more strength in the strategical field. And she could only shiver and stare in shock at the letter send before her, written in blood as to prove the merciless nature of the enemy the sender of the letter could prove to be if it so desired. Brynden Targaryen was the legitimized son of King Aegon IV and probably a Targaryen as dark as her ancestor Daemon Targaryen. She rubbed her belly and massaged her temple as the incriminating letter laid in the table. Her grand-uncle send her another letter, it made her swoon and feel confidence in this house of plight her family suffers. It eased her heart to know that Aemon was well. Yet it also made her shiver that a man like Brynden Targaryen was still out there.

She was born by the time that already the man was long gone from the realm, but the mark he left in the realm was too fresh for many to forget his bloody legend. His letter written in blood was a threat and a promise. Though also Brynden was sharp to pin her in where she was now. In her hands was to act as Rhaenyra Targaryen to her Aegon III or be the Alicent Hightower and her children respectively Aemond, Aegon II and Haelena of Aegon III. Regardless of how it is seen, Aegon III was the true heir and everyone else just bastard claimants.

I won't hesitate to make a Redgrass Field out of Dragonstone or King's Landing. I have no regrets to put you to the sword at even the slight misdeed or action of you or your children. In fact, I dare you to say it and claim it, you know how Vaemond Velaryon was beheaded by Daemon.

The battle of redgrass field was known to be a very event that marked the realm. The first Blackfyre Rebellion and the most blatant act of Kinslaying by Brynden, and the Bloodraven didn't hesitate to kill even more relatives as time went on, for the sake of their house. Now, such a threatening man had pointed their swords at them.

"If Maester Aemon is with them, then it means that maybe the boy is what it is." The only one to speak calmly in the room was none other than Prince Oberyn Martell himself whom sat with his feet resting in the table as he cut an apple's skin with a dagger.

"How dare you besmirch Prince Viserys's claim on-."

"On the marks that we were all fucking aware that my sister couldn't birth an heir for Prince Rhaegar." Oberyn deadpanned at everyone in the court who went silent, causing the Queen Dowager to stay silent after that. "In fact, my props to Stark for putting up with all those pompous Lords after what your husband did my Queen. This survived due to what we had planned and were aware was going to happen. He's doing what Rhaegar would've done if he were still alive."

"You seem rather contempt even after Rhaegar dissed your sister for a northern woman." Ardrian Celtigar grunted and touched his cheek as the venomous glare of Oberyn was now on him.

"Unlike you my sister send me a letter timely informing me of her state. She stated that she conceded for Rhaegar to have only one more wife to birth him a male heir. In her original plan, she would've made Rhaenys marry Rhaegar's male heir to preserve the line. All in order to prevent the Dance of Dargons from happening twice. Though apparently she didn't had the chance for it since the damned Lannisters almost ended us had it not been for a nameless knight. If only we knew the man's name, he'll have a statue in Sunspear to his name." Oberyn wondered out loud as he bit on the apple.

"You damned dornish-."

"Enough!" Rhaella cried out loud having everyone now silent.

"I won't have our leftovers squabble. Lord Eddard Stark speaks the truth. What the realm doesn't needs is war right now. Not after the lords dared to speak of a possible independence from the figure which is the iron throne. Do I have to remind you all that all what is left of our glorious household are only dragon eggs? From westeros to sothoryos there's not a single dragon, and I'm sure dragon eggs aren't going to win us the throne." She pointed out and glanced at the table sadly.

"Even when my granddaughter wishes so fervently to have a dragon. It's all we can do, dream and nothing else. So long as dragons aren't here we have to take all the advantages we can take, and that right now is given by Lord Stark." Queen Rhaella commented as she stared at each and every Loyalist Lord on the vicinity, to see any defiance from their part, she met none.

"Good, then I shall depart alongside Lord Celtigar and Velaryon, including Prince Oberyn to King's landing."

"And what if the boy proves to be Rhaegar's son?" Oberyn called out to which Rhaella could only sharply nod.

"The only thing I can do. A Targaryen Restoration. Lord Velaryon, call the ships. We're going to King's Landing. Lord Velaryon, send your ships and have this letter delivered to the Iron Bank. Have them be aware that it is my desire to be updated on the status of the Pact of Ice and Fire's account."

---

King's Landing

Maege Mormont

On the Northern Tents there already ran rumors of Lady Lyanna's son being crowned. And in the truth the north itself was ecstatic, never in the entire existence of the north has it ever had a hold over the seven kingdoms as it had now, nor did it ever had a close connection with house targaryen than in the conquest when Torrhen Stark knelt before Aegon The Conqueror. Since that moment Targaryens have come and go as so have Stark Lords. Yet everything has remained relatively silent, until the rebellion sparked the weapons for them to go south once again to dethrone Aerys Targaryen. What would've been a successful rebellion now turned into their Lord's effort to crown Lady Lyanna's son with the Dragon Prince as King of the Seven Kingdoms. As she received a raven from the north, she read it.

Dear Mother

Are you well? I hope you are well in the south, here in the North winter is starting to feel bad. As from the last letter you've received, I've arrived well to Winterfell. Lord Benjen has been nothing but kind on receiving me, he was alone in his solar when I arrived. Apparently, Master Walys died before I arrived, the winter had took him. Lord Benjen of course was unconsolable and alone, only Jeor and my arrival has managed to lift his spirits and has given him back some back-bone to go and take lessons from the Master at arms which took us all into Sword Lessons, in an effort to cheer Lord Benjen up. He's been solemn and has expressed he feels to blame for Lady Lyanna leaving, hoping to find redemption in the Night's Watch. Or at least, that's how it was supposed to be before he received Lord Eddard's letter. What did it had? Benjen changed so suddenly before us, he emerged like a new person entirely. He started giving orders, sitting on the Lord's throne and with a firm face and a light on his eyes I thought was forever waned. He's more prone to smiling, japing and even fighting stronger. I dare to say that his wolf-blood has been re-awaken once again. Right now he's constantly keeping a active vigilance on all the holds including ours.

I hope to see you again soon.

Dacey Mormont

She burned the letter with a satisfied sigh and leaned back in the chair. The war was already over, now all what had to be done was for their Lord to discuss the terms of the Regency that's been discussed. No doubt by the time this all ends, they'll be send back to the North and they'll have their provisional Lord in Benjen. If from what she heard of whispers is true, their Lord will sneak off some gold from the coffers to rehabilitate Moat Cailin into what it formerly used to be and have Benjen lead it once the regency ends while also having his son be squired in the north. That would mean that Benjen Stark would occupy the second greatest outpost in the north just after Winterfell, in the very gates of the North. A good hold to have which will require many things to be done. She hardly asked anything out of Eddard, and she sure won't. With having enough reserves for winter and having some weapons to defend against the Ironborn was enough, life in Bear Island being as harsh as it is it mattered not riches. She had a funny feeling from her daughter Dacey, she didn't know.

"What happens, happens." She smirked and stared at Jeor who received a letter from his son who was supporting young Benjen and teaching him and Dacey pointers on the sword. Many Northern Lords knew Lord Jeor was ready to leave the Island behind in favor of making Jeor the heir and occupy the seat. He already had decided an arranged marriage for his son to a Glover girl as he desired. Yet he postponed everything when the Tourney of Harrenhall happened in year 281, when he was just ready to abdicate his Lordship for his son. The Tourney happened and he posponed everything to attend Lord Rickard's call to the south. When he told Lord Rickard of his will to leave Bear Island, the Stark Lord himself shook his head in denial. The Stark Lord spoke of his moves in the south, and that he needed for a few more pair fo years his sworn Lords to remain the same as possible.

Lord Rickard and Brandon's tragedy happened and the Old Bear's plans of going to the Night's Watch were halted when Rickard's son Eddard declared war on the Targaryen Crown. The Old Bear was of the first to be on Winterfell alongside herself, Leaving Jeor to Bear Island as they marched south to wage war as per the northern traditions established.

Senior Lords took with the young stark to save his family, but they came with far greater treasure than they could've ever dreamed of. A northern-blooded prince ready to be crowned. So used to living in harsh conditions they were, that when Eddard sat with each of them and asked them to name anything, anything they would want as compensation for marching alongside him he was met with humble simplicity. Rickard Karstark wanted his son, heir to Winterfell to be squired in Karhold. The Manderlys had little to demand already their position would expand if anything. Howland asked little of Lord Stark and now his crannogmen spy on the other lords. And so on.

Yet she remains at edge about the Ryswells and Boltons; there was a reason why Eddard looked at them carefully. They weren't a bunch to trust and of all, they sent even less men.

She frowned.

'All is in Lord Eddard's hands now.'

---

Eddard Stark III

Mace Tyrell was not nearly as impressive as he often tried to be. That had been his assessment of the man when he first met him after lifting the Siege of Storm's End. Now, two month's later, that opinion had not changed. He certainly looked the part at first glance, with the same powerfully built frame and strikingly features of a reachman highlighted by his curly brown hair and cut beard. Yet Ned couldn't help but think back to Ser Gerold's words about his character while watching the man in question nervously enter the room. A man with an overinflated sense of self-importance, if treated with the familiarity of an equal he'll get even fuller of himself than he usually is.

He couldn't help but sigh internally at the thought that this would be his lie now, feigning different faces with different people. He steeled himself for it regardless.

"Ah Mace, come in." He exclaimed with perfectly worn enthusiasm.

Opening the door to greet him, grasping his hand warmly in the process. He hoped he was projecting an air of easy confidence on the older man. The role was not a comfortable fit for him, not for his northern sense of self which screamed for him to be more serious and less what he is now. The Lord addressed took the offered seat in front of his desk, he swiftly returned to his own behind it and kept his broad grin in place as he turned to face Mace. The Lord was smiling more during this conference than he had his entire life, his cheeks were already groaning in agony at the thought.

The warden of the South nearly fell over his seat when Ser Arthur suddenly revealed himself, walking out from his unassuming corner behind Mace and strolling right beside him without a word. And then, for the first time, Mace noticed the bassinet on Ned's opposite side. And when he leaned forward to peer inside, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped. A platinum haired young child with full valyrian features was currently sucking on a finger, gazing back at the Lord Paramount of the Reach with equal curiosity, with a mesmerizing pair of intense Magenta eyes never seen before on his contemporaries.

Mace's head started to swivel several times between the baby, Ned and Arthur in quick succession as he tried to piece the puzzle together.

And then, finally, they fell into place. And Mace fell back into the chair. He kept his exasperation with Mace taking too long to figure out the obvious in check, flashing his teeth instead to maintain an appearance of enthralled delight.

"As you've no doubt cleverly surmised my lord. We may now put aside the past few months of petty bickering regarding the succession at last. For I have returned with Crown Prince Gaemon of House Targaryen, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and my sister Lyanna, and Rightful heir to the Iron Throne. No doubt the whole of the realm will rejoice upon my announcement of his discovery later this evening, along with my assumption of the office of Lord Regent in his name, which the High Septon agreed to bless the previous night."

"Trueborn, my Lord?" The Tyrell Lord gaped aloud. It would appear the Lord of Highgarden hadn't quite put all the pieces together just yet.

"Indeed, my lord. There is a written documentation of the wedding ceremony between the Dragon Prince and my sister which Ser Arthur here, along with Ser Oswell and your own relative Ser Gerold Hightower bore witness to this fact and are prepared to attest as such to the rest of the court. But I'm sure you of course would not have cause to doubt their word, Mace. Or my intentions in steering this period of transition."

"I-uh, of course not, Lord Stark. E-everyone knows of the honor and integrity of the Kingsguard, especially Ser Arthur, is beyond reproach. And you of course, would never abide any form of underhanded deception."

"I'm humbled by your trust in me, Mace. And trust is why I felt it necessary to share this news with the realms most prominent lords first. Especially you Mace. It is precisely because of your steadfast loyalty and adherence to duty that I feel I can entrust you with the burden of being the realm's new Master of Coin, and sit on Crown Prince Gaemon's regency council alongside me."

Now Mace was very Confused.

"I…Me, my Lord?"

Ned seized the moment, and poured the praise on like sauce over a finely roasted Goose. It was the only position he had vacant, most already were filled and he'd rather have someone who can be easily to manipulate and have a hold off rather than someone that can fall into an enemy's clutches. "Of course, Mace. After all, were you not in command of the army that gave Robert his only defeat at the Battle of Ashford?"

'Though Randull Tarly was the one who actually fought it.' He thought with defense.

"I can think of no one more suited for the position." He continued.

'I can think of no one else I like better with as much wealth.'

He wondered if he had laid it on too thickly at first. But, amazingly, Mace's chest actually seemed to swell up beneath his breast with each passing moment he continued to laud his supposed 'accomplishments'. This might actually be as easy as Ser Gerold and Varys' reports suggested.

"I'm…flattered, by your acknowledgement, my Lord. I have only ever striven to do my duty to the crown after all."

He wondered how difficult it was for Mace to convince himself of that. Not very, probably.

"And I am humbled that you would elevate me to such an esteemed position, and would gladly accept under normal circumstances. Yet…"

Ned's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, sensing the hesitation in Mace's voice.

"Will there not be… objections? To such a sudden, unilateral declaration without consulting the other lords? Lord Tywin perhaps, or more importantly Queen Rhaella…" he tittered nervously

Ned genuinely smiled for the first time since Mace walked in. He could not have asked for a more perfect rebuttal.

"Lord Tywin has already pledged to give his full support behind the notion, actually. And Queen Rhaella has just sent word that she plans to return to the capital in order to meet her grandson."

Though slightly embellished, his statement had the desired effect on Mace.

"They have, my lord?" he exclaimed, completely flabbergasted. Ned had only arrived last evening, so he was likely stunned by how much the northern lord had already accomplished in so short a time. Which meant Mace's internal scales now started to lean towards Ned as the side to bet on.

Ned added a few more stones to tip said scales further. "Even as we speak, the newly appointed Lord Hand Jon Arryn is informing our mutual father-in-law Lord Hoster, and the soon to be new Master of Ships, Lord Stannis. And I have a missive with an offer of peace to Dorne en route, which I believe will be met most favorably."

With all the Lord Paramounts (setting aside the Greyjoys for reasons so obvious even Mace understood why) and the High Septon accounted for, and holding the only legitimate symbol of authority in the realm by way of the remaining acknowledged members of the royal family, Eddard had effectively cut the legs out from under any potential opposition to rally behind. And placed himself in firm position to marginalize or crush anyone who might dare try.

Suddenly, Mace's nervous gaze trailed back towards Arthur. More specifically to the hilt of Dawn resting at his side.

He cleared his throat with equal trepidation. "My compliments, lord Stark. It seems you have the situation well in hand after all."

Ned wondered how sincere that statement truly was, but mentally shrugged it off. It mattered little now, and provided Ned with the opening to broach the real purpose behind their meeting.

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "You are not wrong that there are still many difficulties ahead of us however, Mace. The weight of becoming Regent will indeed be met with suspicion and criticism from all corners. Those who joined Robert and I in the Rebellion, will fairly wonder what the point of all their sacrifices were, even if King Aerys madness spoke for itself. And those who stayed loyal will view my ascension with suspicion and resentment, wondering if I might have somehow manipulated recent events to secure it. Ridiculous rumormongering of course."

Mace nodded absently in agreement, though Ned didn't doubt he likely wondered those same things since he arrived.

"It is the views of the loyalist that concerns me most at the present, for their distrust is only natural in the wake of our previous conflict. Which is why we must put our new reign on firmer ground, Mace. To put the unfortunate events of the past behind us, and demonstrate that our unity can overcome our previous divisions. And why I wish to propose a betrothal between your son, and..." Mace suddenly sucked in a deep breath, eyes turning fervently at the bassinet next to Ned now "... my daughter."

Mace Tyrell's face seemed estranged perhaps at most .

"Oh…oh. I see, my Lord. I'm of course deeply honored you would consider such a union between our Houses. Yet…forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but would not a betrothal for Prince Gaemon be a more…effective symbol?" The hopeful pleading in the Lord of Highgarden's eyes might well be crawling hands and knees by now if they had any of their own.

He gave an over-dramatic sad shake of his head.

"Unfortunately, I cannot make such promises on Prince Gaemon's behalf, Mace. While I may see to the running of his realm, I do not run his household. That duty falls to his grandmother, Dowager Queen Rhaella, who is set to return to the capital in a weeks' time with Prince Viserys…and her unborn child, alongside Princess Rhaenys, who comes with her uncle Prince Oberyn."

Luckily, even as someone as oblivious as Mace Tyrell managed to catch what Ned was implying…after several moments of blinking anyway. It was easy; Queen Dowager Rhaella was with a female child, with them also comes Rhaenys with her Dornish Uncle which won't hand her away. And Doran might as well play the game and dance around Rhaegar's son's to charm his elder sister to him.

"I…see. I must offer my congratulations to Her Grace when she arrives then. Do you…know if it will be a boy or a girl?"

"I'm not at liberty to share that news just yet I'm afraid. At least not until her grace is here to announce it herself anyway." Which was a load of horse shit, since if that was the case Ned wouldn't have let slip her pregnancy in the first place.

But it did the trick, and with no means refuting the claim Mace seemed resigned as he gave a half-hearted. "I understand."

"Privately however." He suddenly interjected, causing the Reach Lord's head to whip back up in attention. "We are currently inclined to believe from her letter that it will be a girl." That wasn't actually a lie at least. They were inclined to believe it. They just ahd no proof it was actually the case.

"Ah…well, that's a pity then." Mace muttered under his breath, likely more to himself than to Ned. Shaking his head in dismay Mace began to speak, until Ned interrupted.

"I hope this won't prove to be so disappointing for you to not still see the benefits in joining our Houses, Mace," Ned slid in smoothly, infusing seemingly genuine concern in every word.

"After all, I was looking forward to your counsel as we govern the realm together through these difficult times. And I would not be averse to revisiting the matter at a later point."

"Pardon my lord?"

"It's simply a betrothal Mace. Should circumstances change we can always reopen discussions before any actual wedding takes place. Depending on how my own conversation with Dowager Queen Rhaella goes in the coming week, we may speak even sooner on the matter."

Mace managed to actually pick up the hint, and his interest was piqued again. "Truly, Lord Stark?"

"If you require further assurance then how about we do this instead, Mace? Let us refrain from making any formal announcement about the betrothal contract between our children for say, a year, after we sign. That way we may confirm the sex of the newest member of the royal family, and have sufficient time to determine their good health. If matters with the Queen do not pan out after all, then I will personally bring the matter of setting a new betrothal for her grandson to her attention. Should she receive the matter favorably, any previous obligations between us will disappear, as if they never existed. I would, after all, be most disappointed if this proved too much of a complication for you to take up your deserved position as Master of Coin, Mace. While depriving me of your wise counsel in governing the realm during this lengthy regency period."

He was tempted. That much was obvious from the conflicting emotions on his face. Yet still, the Lord of Highgarden continued to hesitate, prompting Ned to launch his last strike to nail Mace to his flag once and for all.

"I give you my word Mace," Ned promised soberly. Mace's eyes widened as his mind registered.

And it indeed, did the trick. Licking his teeth in hesitation for a brief moment Mace slowly, but eventually, nodded his head in let out an internal sigh of relief. He'd done it. He successfully dangled out the lure Mace had been desperately looking for. The hope that he might still see his blood sitting on the Iron Throne should Rhaella give birth to another son instead, or even (however unlikely) outright refuse to betroth her potential daughter to the crown prince. All without having to give up the Small Council seat he'd coveted for so long and cement an alliance with the House that would be the real power behind the Iron Throne for well into the next several decades. Best of all, this afforded Ned more options in dealing with those same potential issues as well, should they come to pass. All while still binding Mace and House Tyrell to Ned through legal contract, and ensuring their support of the new order for the foreseeable future. He would need to thank Jon Arryn for suggesting the new approach, and Ser Gerold again for his advice once this meeting was over.

Varys could wait though. Not that the Spider ever expected gratitude for his work.

With another broad smile painted on his mouth, Ned reached for a nearby bottle, pouring himself and Mace a drink and toasted to the successful conclusion of their new alliance. Ned now had the second largest and most fertile kingdom in the realm at his disposal, along with access to the necessary financing to stabilize the new regime without having to rely on House Lannister.

Any hope of challenging his nephew's claim had now effectively crumbled into dust, bordering on suicidal for even Tywin Lannister or Dorne to try so long as his new coalition held. He secured his rule.

Now all what was left was to hook Mace Tyrell into getting him into being a benefactor in his Nephew's coronation ceremony.

---

Catelyn I

Her father brought her out of the Riverlands, in her arms she held her son and Winterfell's future Lord. During her stay in Riverrun she heard the news and her heart almost stopped when she heard of Robert's sudden death to wounds he suffered in The Trident. She heard some rumors about Eddard and Robert having a big argument which even had some shouting between them, she dared not to think that Eddard's position in the eyes of the realm was in jeopardy. She named her son Robb, after her husband's best friend. Her husband from what the rumor mill said, left the camps of the Trident and wasn't there for Robert's last moments nor when the March to King's Landing was made. He arrived weeks later, it got her to feel uneasy. Why would he need to not follow the line? King's Landing is such a beautiful city. She had never had the pleasure to meet it or get acquainted with it until today.

The seat of Targaryen Power over the seven kingdoms sat here. Catelyn Tully is confident, a confident woman in her beauty whom has learned under her septa and always followed dutifully to the Gods. She was arranged to be marriage with a beautiful Northern Prince, her beloved Brandon Stark. The first son of Lord Rickard Stark. The Wild Wolf of the North charmed her from the day she heard of him, she dedicated to dream her future with him, having his children and being Lady Of Winterfell. She could picture their child, a strong boy with her curls atop his head and charming as her beloved is. He was so charming and so handsome, yet the Gods didn't spared Brandon any mercy. For as when Princess Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark he went to the south just before he married her and he was imprisoned. Later Lord Rickard Stark tried to free his son only to be burned and her beloved Brandon choked to death. She didn't had time to mourn for his death when war started, the realms quaked in war and her father told her that it was a possibility that she would marry Brandon's young brother Eddard. She didn't knew of him and for the short things Brandon said about him, it portrayed him as a distant long-faced man with a few smiled and most of the time serious. Yet quite charming if met well. Her heart sank but she accepted her duty.

She withstood her pregnancy in Riverrun during the whole of the war; she bore through the news of each win and loss the Rebellion had, until eventually the news arrived of Robert's death and the unsure state of the realm. Many said that the kingdoms will go independent, she almost collapsed at the thought. If the riverlands were hit hard. Imagine if the seven go each their ways, it would be a lot worse. What she expected to see was a triumphant welcoming, yet what she was received with instead was a massive silence, many tents outside with soldiers of each of the kingdoms with unease all around, there was heavy tension. As her carriage made its way through the tents, she finally arrived to the northern tent, where the Stark Family guards stood, they allowed passage for the carriage. Once the door opened she was received by Lord Howland Reed.

"Lady Stark." The Crannogman received her as she descended from the carriage's stairs. Young Robb sleeping on her arms passively. "Lady Stark." Lord Rickard Karstark received her firmly.

"Your tent is the Biggest, our Lord's tent. We have arranged a rotation of Stark Guards to be with you at all times." She frowned at the thought of sleeping in a tent.

"Where is my husband?" She asked to which Lord Rickard stared to Lord Howland, whom nodded.

"Um, my Lady. You see; what was the last thing you knew of the war?" Howland asked to which Lord Rickard approached to him and gave him a glare. Which earned Howland's deadpan.

"All I knew was that Robert died and my Husband marched out of the tent to Seven knows where." This made both stare at each other.

"Well my Lady, you see. Your husband." Lord Rickard Karstark started but hesitated.

"Your Husband found Lady Lyanna in her deathbed on an abandoned tower in Dorne watched by three of the Kingsguard. Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower. Prince Rhaegar married Lady Lyanna under our gods and under Prince Rhaegar's seven. She died birthing Prince Gaemon Targaryen, true heir of the Seven Kingdoms. Now your lord Husband, is inside the Red Keep with all the Lords of the Realm. Negotiating peace, reestablishing the King's peace and kickstarting his possible fifteen-year regency as Prince Gaemon Targaryen's Regent. For the first time since Torrhen Stark knelt before The Conqueror. A Stark-Blooded Targaryen shall occupy the Iron Throne." She widened her eyes as a woman dressed in plate armor and with a mace on her hip ready to be used in battle. She widened her eyes at the prospect, her husband…a Lord, Regent.

A Lord Regent for Fifteen years.

Living in the Red Keep for Fifteen Years?

The Riverlands were never in the center of power of the Kingdoms, other families had the honor, not the Tully. Her gaze went firm, her Lord Husband was negotiating with the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms the Regency he'll have to do for their nephew and Lyanna's son. While she never got to personally met Lyanna or spoke with her, her being so smitten with Brandon to even pay attention to her at all. She was never a lady, she was always a wild one, from what she recalled. She was training swords outside with the bannermen to the surprise of many or riding horses around Riverrun. Her little sister had more interaction with her than she.

This would mean that if her husband succeeds, their home for the next fifteen years will be the Red Keep, the capital of the Kingdoms. The center of the Court, what she's been educated all her life to manage, now shall be put to the test. In ways she never ever thought it would be.

'Father protect him. Mother keep my husband safe. Warrior give him courage and strength. Smith give him the strength to mend this broken realm. Crone give him wisdom to negotiate peace with the Lords of the Kingdoms.' She closed her eyes and offered a prayer for her dear husband; for his strength, for his wisdom, for his will and for his courage to mend the broken realm he's been handed to be mended again and for the seven kingdoms to finally heal.

So far the meeting with the Key Lords has been successful. He had a good meeting with Mace and Tywin, while Jon had a good meeting with Hoster and Mace, though however hoster rebutted meeting with Jon in favor for meeting with him. His wife was waiting for him outside therefore it all went well. Yet however today was another business entirely, after he dismissed his foster father, there were far more critical things to discuss. Stannis however negotiated with Jon Arryn in a livid mood; the news of Renly's abuse by Cersei wasn't a secret now and after Jon was made aware Stannis knew of the state of things. Of course Renly was distraught and broken, to which Stannis made sure to reassure Jon that he'll make sure Tywin is made aware.

Now with the matter settled aside, regardless it will need attention. Right now he walked through he red keep, until in his office a shadow spoke.

"Follow me." Brynden gestured to him and he followed through the tunnels, he stared in shock.

"What are these?" He asked and he smirked.

"These tunnels were made by Maegor the Cruel, secretly during my regency of Aerys I I expanded secret sections to the tunnels known only by me. Since our web-crawling friend has studied Maegor's tunnels, we're now using the alternate channels made by yours truly." Brynden giggled as they crawled through the tunnels, for a long while. Too long, his legs already were a pain to him until finally he outstretched his arms upwards and light was seen. Getting off the tunnel he followed and was now in a small shack, were many men were tied, gagged and their eyes bandaged, they were all groaning and squirming but no one heard.

"May I present you the Gold Cloaks Lord Regent. All under the employment of Lord Tywin Lannister. This one's name is Janos Slynt and he has quite the tale to tell you." He gestured to the stout man, with jowls and a bald plate, frog-faced and built like a keg.

"Which position did you had?" He asked coldly to the man who shivered.

"C-c-commander."

He frowned even more.

"Did Tywin ordered you to leave the city defenseless?"

…

"Speak." Brynden's hand started to glower in a dense red light as it approached. Soon the sound of sizzling was heard and the man cried out.

"He did! He did! He gave us the orders to rally behind his men and rape, pillage all the city!"

The man screamed out as the burns were on his back.

"Did you allowed Tywin's men entrance to the Red Keep?"

…

"Were you involved in Princess Elia Martell's rape?"

…

"Who was the nameless knight who protected Princess Rhaenys?"

…

A loud cry was heard as Brynden's red glowering whole palm now laid on the man's back as it slowly burned through skin, fascia, muscle and reached up to the bone of his shoulder plate.

"Yes! Yes! By the seven yes!"

Eddard Stark frowned and turned to the Bloodraven.

"Have him imprisoned, kill half of his men and let them be poised as brigands who escaped the city. The other half maintain them here, they shall be beheaded alongside their commander." He frowned in hatred and took the way back in the tunnels to his office, all while the screams were muffled by the sound of the short trap-door closing.

Upon returning to his Office, he found an elderly man looking into the Horizon; on his desk many documents, journals, letters, etc. Maester Aemon Targaryen's shoulder had a faithful crow perched from it. "Maester Aemon." He received, yet the Maester brought forth evidence.

"Pycelle must be trialed my Lord Regent. Here is the evidence." The Maester brought forth the first page. "P-page 147 of Pycelle's 1st Journal. He…he details the duty of r-r-replacing W-wildfire with a more volatile agent, which sparked my brother's death, and that of my nephew's in the Tragedy of Summerhall." He brought forth afterwards. "Page 84 of the 2nd Journal. H-he confesses to dosing poison to Lady Joanna Lannister to make her prone to haemorrhage during her third pregnancy."

He frowned as the maeste listed the crimes.

"P-page 112, T-the Archmaester g-gives orders to…to…p-p-poison my grandniece Rhaella, to favor her first stillbirth…J-journal 3rd Page 75, h-he poisoned P-p-princess Elia to have a high-risk birth and die almost to it."

He frowned hardly at it, this was way worse, way worse than what he imagined.

"P-p-page 138…he, he advices Aerys to open the gates to Tywin's men and open's the castle's gates to Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch, telling them Princess Elia's location."

Eddard gives a hard nod to Maester Aemon, as he tried to ponder about it.

"Behead him, lord Stark. Take his head. Prince Gaemon's step-mother deserves to be given northern justice as would've his mother had it been her case instead. Behead them Lord Stark, only that way Dorne will have its peace and so will young Gaemon's heart."

He closed his eyes and his fists tightened, reopening his eyes, he nodded.

"We've apprehended the GrandMaester my Lord." Ser Arthur indicated, he nodded and spoke solemnly.

"Tomorrow, after the Ceremony. The Captain of the City Watch and GrandMaester Pycelle's Crimes shall be exposed. They'll both be beheaded and the rest of the city Watch hanged. I shall entrust the duty of a new city watch to someone closer to our circle."

"To Uncle Brynden?" Aemon asked hopefully.

"Yes, to him."

"There are also news from the Camp, my Lord. Your wife, Lady Catelyn has arrived." He widened his eyes and nodded happily, more blessings from the Old Gods to his way. "Please Ser Arthur, send someone of trust to escort her here please."

He had so much to say to the love of his life and so little time now that the sun has already set.

---

Catelyn II

Ser Oswell Whent was her uncle, from her mother Minisa's side. It was nice to get reacquainted with her Uncle who escorted her to the Red Keep, she stared marvelled at the insides until finally arriving to the office of the King where her husband sat, on a bassinet an elderly man played with a baby as he checked papers.

"My Lord husband." She called out and he rose his ehad and offered her a warm smile, he got up and went up to embrace her, on her arms baby Rob cried out. She cooed at her baby Rob as Eddard stared at them.

"This is our son Robb, my Lord. Named after your best friend's honor." She offered and he nodded solemnly and carried his son with shaking hands, the baby ceased to cry and giggled as the father swung back and forth gently for his son. It was his perfect look alike, perhaps because of the tully auburn hair but in everything else, it was his carbon copy.

"Come…" He gestured her as they both approached to Maester Aemon.

"My dear lady wife. This is Maester Aemon Targaryen, once Maester of the Night's Watch who has come all the way to here for our Nephew Gaemon. And of course, our nephew; son of my sister Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Gaemon Targaryen, trueborn heir of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm and rightful heir to the iron throne. He's my nephew as he's yours, and he'll be under our care. I…I promised it to Lyanna." He stated with mournful sadness, and her heart felt weak. Her husband so emotional and dutiful, did this all for his little sister. She nodded firmly and bowed to the aged Maester in shock.

If her history lessons recalled, this was then Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar I and brother of king Aegon V. This man must be almost a 100 years old.

"It's an honor to meet you Maester." The Old Maester nodded solemnly. As she stared at the boy, he was a targaryen by looks yet she can recognize some of the stark features Eddard had such as the long face. Dimly however only.

She approached the baby and she held him in her arms; hair as platinum silver as the coins themselves. An intense pair of Magenta eyes to stare at the world which paled to the jewels many women wear, and unnatural triangle-shaped ears. This, is her nephew.

"Have you managed to negotiate with the Lord's of the realm?" She asked to her husband whom nodded sharply. "I managed to negotiate enough Gold with Tywin to be able to manage reparations of the realm in exchange for his son's freedom. I negotiated an alliance between our house and Mace Tyrell's by striking a possible marriage between any daughter we have with his eldest son Wyllas. This being an exchangeable clause with Gaemon if necessary. Stannis very much agreed already when he chose to instead return to being a servant of House Targaryen all the way. And your Lord Father wanted to speak to me, don't know what for exactly. As for Benjen, I'll have him installed as regent Lord Stark during the years of my nephew's regency. Which will be fifteen years." He wondered out and she nodded solemnly.

"This will be the Longest Regency in the story of the Seven Kingdoms." She replied.

"Aye, the last one was Aegon III's regency. At least now our Nephew's making history, and us alongside him." He smiled moderately as she laid her nephew gently back in the bassinet, it was wide enough for two, therefore she laid Robb next to Gaemon.

"What are your plans now, Ned?" She asked to which he nodded and stared at her.

"As you already know, I've already made the Lords negotiate their fealty. So for now, the seven kingdoms remain united. Queen Dowager Rhaella is on Dragonstone and already on her way here, she won't be for the main ceremony but she'll arrive halfway through it. With her comes the Velaryons and the Celtigars." This earned his wife's nod.

"Of course, they've been the fiercest supporters of House Targaryen for years."

"Aye. With them also comes Prince Oberyn Martell with her niece and Gaemon's half-sister Rhaenys." She frowned.

"So Dorne stays with the Targaryens as long as Rhaenys is in the Red Keep."

"Aye."

She was surprised by her husband's cleverness, in less than a few days her husband managed to subdue any rebellions, bring a stable King's peace for their nephew's regency and establish the bases for a regency that will last up to fifteen years.

"Who will you place in the small council?" She asked curiously as he handed her a piece of paper he kept on his chest.

"I placed Jon Arryn as my hand, he's the man I trust the most for this task. Which means your sister will be among us in the court of our regency." This brought her some comfort, she'll have some family aside from her children around her. "Tomorrow Pycelle shall be condemned for his crimes, alongside a letter will be sent to the citadel citing the crimes which Maester Pycelle is charged and I'll also send my will to place Maester Aemon Targaryen as The Red Keep's Grandmaester after my brother Benjen negotiated his freedom from his Night's Watch vows."

She nodded, a wise choice for a Grand Maester. Being the elderly person in the room and the most educated, he would be well versed in history and topics to teach the children at. Moreover their nephew would be adequately educated to be King of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Master of Coin?" She inquired as she read the paper.

"Mace Tyrell, it was him or Tywin. I preferred him."

"That way you can supply grain to the North without being a hassle. And keep him nearby us." She theorized his own findings which he crossed his arms and leaned to his desk.

"Aye; I chose to keep the place of Master of Ships to the Velaryon to appease to them and to Lady Rhaella herself. Knowing she'll get to keep them nearby would make the die-hard loyalists feel at ease. Moreover leaving the Velaryons in charge of our Royal Fleet might give us an advantage."

She nodded reading the paper.

"Stannis or a Stormlander as a Master of Laws?" She inquired gazing from the paper back at her husband.

"I need something to have a lookout to the Stormlords. Stannis agreed to the position therefore that way it'll mend and keep rebel-lords at bay." He proposed, earning her nod, it'll make the court interesting.

"Varys as maser of Whispers. You added a question mark on it and…b-b-bloodraven?" She blinked in shock and gazed at her husband.

"My uncle Brynden Targaryen or perhaps formally as Brynden Blackwood is still alive and well. We chose for him to be the family's personal master of whispers, lord confessor and shadow."

She widened her eyes in shock, a very powerful riverlander tied to the crown through bastardry and whose regency as hand of the king for twenty years prevented at least three blackfyre rebellions. That already spoke miles of the powerhouses they had to ensure their regency's stability.

"And Ser Gerold Hightower as Lord Commander."

"That I'm afraid is not changeable by us my Dear. The Kingsguard do their own thing, it's not our decision to see who stays or goes. Though, we have three vacant positions for the Kingsguard. I was thinking about a northern knight and two others. Any suggestions?" He inquired to his wife who frowned and shook her head.

"Then our vacant positions shall be filled when our nephew has enough age to talk. Being reminded that only a king can crown his kingsguard."

---

Rhaella II

King's Landing seemed a strange new friend, seeing the targaryen sigil on the city hanging proudly was…disconcerning perhaps. As their ship docked, waiting before her was a retinue of the Stark family; a tall young man with a red haired woman by his side. Four of her King's Guard there and her granduncle Aemon. Her prganant belly of eight months made it hard to walk and her son Viserys constantly kept her company. She personally thought it was too much of a belly for a single child. Helped by Ser Willem to get though the plank, she was received by Lord Stark.

"Lady Rhaella." The Northern Lord received the former queen of the seven Kingdoms, by her side was her son Viserys and a young Rhaenys. The Targaryens as it is known are famous for having silver-hair, pale skin and from a distance what appeared to be violet eyes, except of course for Princess Rhaenys who had dornish brown hair with a streak of silver in it. Alongside her also is Lord Oberyn martell wearing his yellow robes with the characteristic golden sun pattern of Dorne. He can already see the ship having the Tragaryen and Martell Banners.

Everyone knew the horrors King Aerys II subjected his wife and Queen to, not just his Queen, but she was his sister as well.

"Ah, Lord Regent Ned Stark. I've been wanting to meet the man who managed to have the kingdoms in a cuckhold." Oberyn japed which caused young Rhaenys to lightly giggle at her uncle's banter, yet the Northern section didn't got the message of it a being a joke.

"Lord Stark." Rhaella received as she stared at the peaceful city. "I offer my condolences for your father and elder brother's death, on behalf of House Targaryen I apologize."

He grimaced at the Queen's soft and diplomatic tone, he bowed.

"I…appreciate your condolences Lady Rhaella and I thank you for accepting my invitation to King's Landing. As you might appreciate, you arrived a day after your grandson's coronation ceremony and Most Lords are ready to depart to their respective seats. I hope there is no offence in this done, you have to understand that so long as the Lord's didn't kneel before an authority there was the threat of the Iron Throne's authority over them being dissolved. And with it the Conqueror's legacy would've been…vanished." She widened her eyes in shock, she never thought things would've come to such an extreme.

To disregard the Iron Throne's authority over westeros would mean all going back to the Century of the Blood; each kingdom on their own waging wars with the other. She shivered at the thought, House Targaryen's power being reduced once more to staying in Dragonstone and all the legacy that the Conqueror left being simple, vanished or a dream in history books. It proves so much how her husband's reign was, ended mostly. On this shit fest and now them having the Stark claiming the capital on their name.

Giggles were heard from Lady Stark's arms and Lord Stark's own arms.

"I was aware there was only one child."

"It is my Lady, my wife currently is holding my son Robb."

Among her the whispers to the usurper were done, she frowned.

"I wish to see my grandchild Lord Stark, before anything is talked about."

Silence went through both sides, eventually Eddard approached holding a bundle in silk-cloths, the eyes of the soldiers of both sides were ever so aware. Once he exposed the cloth dimly under the shadow of his hand, her eyes met Magenta colored eyes, staring back at her as the baby stirred. Tears were brought almost to her eyes, it was as if she held her dear Rhaegar all over again, only perhaps his eyes were even more unique than theirs. She held him on her arms.

"I'm glad you're alive, your grace. I heard rumors long ago about your troublesome pregnancies. I hope your trip here was most at ease. "

"I have good faith in this one Lord Stark. My garrison on Dragonstone, most of my servants were ready to sell me, my son, my granddaughter and my daugter still in my belly to the usurper. Even when I had the presence of all the Velaryon and Celtigar men. Even when they heard Cassana's son died, they were willing to send us to the capital in chains to whoever was next to claim the throne. If it weren't for your letters, we would've been on a boat to Essos fearing for our very lives." She seemed strangely sincere as she held onto his nephew."What is his name?"

"Gaemon your Grace. Gaemon Targaryen."

"The Glorious." Lord Lucerys Velaryon was the first to state the title of the nearest Targaryen with the same name, Gaemon Targaryen The Glorious was the second lord of dragonstone and husband of Daenys the Dreamer. Aenar Targaryen, Gaemon's father was married to Vaela Velaryon, it was through that marriage which convinced the Velaryons to aid the Targaryen Migration from their lands to Dragonstone and which settled the centuries of alliance since then.

"If you don't mind me prying your grace, why are you so confident that this is, in fact your grandson?"

She smiled and cooed at her grandson.

"Oh, Lord Eddard. Clearly you aren't aware how close I was to my eldest."

"Little Gae here is on the path of having the same haircolor and style as his father. Those eyes of his are however quite a unique situation."

The eyes were quite a unique shade of purple and pink, a unique combination which sparked quite the beautiful pair of orbs on her grandson.

"I would do anything to get back my deceased eldest son and daughter-In-law, Lord Eddard. I hope you plan to give those bastards over to the Dornish because if you don't. Then Oberyn here shall kill them himself." She frowned and sighed at her last piece of information, addressing the now present prince of Dorne who wore a vengeful scowl on his face.

"Don't worry about that your Grace, Lord Tywin Lannister has managed to not only give us the fee to restore the city but also hand both Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to me after he has a brief talk with them. All in exchange for taking back his son Jaime Lannister." This sparked the surprise of many at his front at the audacity he had to play the Old Lion of Lannister. Oberyn Martell snorted.

"Heh, you managed to make the Old Lion toothless around you Lord Stark. Quite the miracle worker you are."

He nodded firmly.

"I had to be my prince, for the sake of my nephew and your niece staying alive and well with their family." Eddard recalled which on reflex caused Oberyn to keep Rhaenys near him.

"So, given that you know of his legitimate birth, do I have your support in naming him King with me ruling in his name until he's sixteen years of age?"

Laughs were sparked in the dragon's court, he frowned as he stared at Gaemon in his grandmother's hands now wailing.

"Lord Edddard, you can't possibly believe I'd let you have free reign around here, did you? I will suport my grandson and his brithright, but don't forget yourself, my Lord. You rebelled against the crown, if things had turned out a different way, your head would be on a spike on the traitor's walk. Do you honestly believe I'll let you rule while I fade into the back."

"ENOUGH!"

The sharp and loud elderly voice of Grandmaester Aemon Targaryen still carried the same authority it did years earlier.

"Rhaella, I can't believe you would dare to hold your grandson's family hostage in your capital? My brother must be now rolling in his grave in disappointment at what our family has turned. More so to the only Kingdom that bend the knees to our family." The Maester walked forth with the aid of a cane as he spoke.

"All these years my family has been victim to its own sins; I had to see Aegon burn himself to death, my nephew dying of an epidemic started by wars that he didn't even caused. And the children, even you now after what's been done for us you hold a child's family hostage." Aemon stated with enough sobriety to make Rhaella only frown.

"They rebelled against us, they killed my husband-."

"The stark did not."

"They killed my son!"

"Which the stark did not."

"They killed Elia."

"Which the Stark did not. You have to confront this grandniece, the Starks have suffered as much as our family did. Your husband murdered Lord Stark's brother and father; and his sister died giving us the only thing that keeps the realm together. Would you rather kill your grandson and start another Dance of Dragons, hm?" A blind Aemon glared at his grandniece whom shook her head.

"No, I would never-."

"I think we may have miscommunicated your Grace, the only reason I'm here is that Lyanna asked me to look after Gae as she died on the birthing bed, I'd rather be on the north but yet I'm here cleaning the mess that mad bastard husband/brother of yours made." She stayed stern and poker-faced before Lord Stark.

"I apologize for the outburst, your Grace. Still, I will not let myself or my northmen face belittlement for rising against the crown. The mad king murdered my father and brother; whom were Liege Lord and Heir to these men. I was never going to sit meekly by while he burned everyone alive for daring to breathe in his direction; you must understand that."

She left out a big sigh.

"You're right, Lord Eddard, I do. I'm sorry for coming off rash, you see. I sincerely feel sorry for what my husband did to your family. I felt his rage just as much and believe me when I say it was especially bad the night the Stark's died…"

She held a frown.

"I had never planned to steal your position and have you sit by while I ruled the realm Queen Rhaella. I need you to rule with me. The King may not have parents anymore, so he needs every family member possible to guide him. That is why I will stay as regent, my wife will stay here in the capital too with all of our children until Jon's sixteen to occupy the Iron Throne."

She frowned. "If you are asking me to be your puppet, Lord Eddard…"
"I'm not Rhaella, I want you to rule with me as equals, work with me to heal the realm that your husband nearly destroyed, be the Dowager Queen you already are, no Queen should ever have to be a consort for now on, and that includes the grandmother of the King."

She smiled, perhaps she misjudged the character of Eddard Stark. She wasn't as bad as she thought, she pinned him alongside Robert Baratheon and many power-hungry Lords the realm possess now.

"Alright Lord Regent, I accept the position as Dowager Queen, but with the added terms of not being a simple figure head like you applied. I thank you for seeing me as an equal. That's something my husband would never have done."
"I'd love to hammer out the smaller details with you, Lord Eddard. But I'm afraid that'll have to wait until morning. However, there is something I want to discuss with you, and please call me Rhaella in private, at least."
"Okay, Rhaella, what is it."

She hoped he was willing to agree with any terms she puts on. It wasn't going to be an easy task, but she preferred it like this. Rhaenys is alone and so will her daughter.
"I wish for Rhaenys and Gaemon to marry, and my coming daughter be free and marry whomever she wishes. But I don't want either of them being arranged into having an unhappy, forced marriage. Gods do I know the problems that could cause. Instead, I wish for them to get to know each other and grow up together, but for them to always know that if they fall for anyone else, it'll be respected and supported. I believe you offered a similar concept to Lord Tyrell? How do you feel about doing the same for Rhae, Gae and Dany?"

"My Queen, I believe that is a fantastic idea."

---

Brynden Rivers

From the shadows he could see the future of the realm happening; Rhaella already looks much adult than the time he last saw her through the trees. His family has grown and has also been met in a trial by fire. They survived however they needed a leverage with House Stark being such leverage. It was a gesture of good faith to have them now each other front to front; Lord Stark was considerate enough against his family which apparently had many things to say against him.

'I shall be now the protector of your shadows. You might never know me young Gaemon; but for now on I shall be the silent blade to your enemies. I vow to always keep the peace in the shadows and spy all your Lords and uncover all plots against you. I shall trust in the kigsguard to be the sword in plain sight while I shall be the sword hidden in plain sight.'

And thus with a vow of loyalty from the raven with a thousand and one eyes, so starts the Reign of the Silent Wolf and the Regency of the Dragons