Chapter 7

~Jorah Mormont~

"You know, this was not how I expected the war to go."

Maege Mormont snorted and gave her nephew a sideways glance from atop her horse. "You're old enough that I expected you to be smarter than that. War isn't like the songs, it's not clean or valorous, it's shitty and messy."

Jorah shifted in his seat on his own horse. The three house guards, similarly mounted behind them, remained silent in their saddles. "I know that, that wasn't what I meant. I was talking about the fact that we only fought two battles."

Maege's reply was instant. "Stormlanders fought four."

"Aye, but we only fought two. The Lannisters beat us to King's Landing while the Tyrells surrendered as soon as we got to Storm's End. We overthrew the dynasty that created the Seven Kingdoms, the Targaryens, and now it's basically over. I'd have thought this would take longer. There were, what, damn near twenty battles during the Dance if I recall correctly?"

"So you'd be happier if we had to fight several more bloody battles? Lose men and supplies, possibly your own life?"

It's like I'm arguing with an actual bear, sometimes I wonder if father took the Black just to get some peace and quiet away from her. "I'm not complaining Auntie, merely voicing my surprise."

"And don't think I didn't notice you say the war was just about over. Dorne hasn't agreed to the peace terms yet and if anyone could hold out against our armies, it's them. The Targaryens couldn't beat them with dragons, we certainly won't succeed without them."

"Yes Auntie."

"And while Stannis has built up a fleet to take Dragonstone, the boy spent the entire war holed up in Storm's End. I'm sure he's loyal to his brother but what's the lad know about naval warfare? The Queen and her son could still cause problems."

"Yes Auntie."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes Auntie."

Jorah barely had time to notice his aunt's narrowed eyes before she slapped his horse on the rump, sending it bolting down the hill. Damn that woman, Jorah complained as he tried to calm his ride down.

Fortunately, his horse was well trained and stopped before reaching the encampment of King's Landing citizens. After the Kingslayer revealed that Aerys had ordered caches of wildfire hidden throughout the city, no one wanted to remain within its walls. There probably would have been quite a lot of panic and rioting had the Northern army not returned from Storm's End in time to keep order.

Because the gods know the Lannisters had no desire to do so, their sack of the city could have easily set some of the wildfire off.

Jorah and the men under his command were keeping order of this grouping of tents, something that would be no challenge under normal circumstances. But the people camped here were apparently those that lived on the Street of Silk, where the brothels of the city were located. Which meant the men of Bear Island did not just have to worry about keeping order amongst their charges, but also any man that decided to pay the area a visit.

At the end of this, if I don't know at least half the southern lords by sight I'll be surprised. I already know the faces of a couple and I can identify Lord Crackhall by his ass. You'd think a man with a mole that large would make sure to pull up his pants properly before walking out of a tent. If I was a bard there's easily a song to be written there. 'And lo did Crackhall, with a mole on his crack, leave the tent of a whore. . . something something. . . black?' Eh, whatever.

"Greeting, m'lord," one of the guardsmen said upon noticing Jorah's approach. "Any problems? You were coming pretty fast for a bit there."

"No, no problem. Anything to report?"

"Nothing Lord Mormont. Things have been nice and quiet today. Well, you know, quiet for whores that have been busy with work. Haven't had to break up any fights."

"Wonder how many bastards will be fathered in this camp by the time we leave?" Maege commented, riding up behind Jorah. "No way, given the state of things, that there's enough moon tea to go around."

"That is true," Jorah agreed.

"Gonna make use of the women yourself, dear nephew?" Maege asked. "Or will you stay true to that Glover wife of yours?"

"Lyarra has a name," Jorah retorted. And she's not a Glover anymore, not since I put my cloak on her shoulders and we swore the vows.

"Aye, she does. But I like not calling her by it because it annoys you."

Jorah ground his teeth but didn't respond to the jab. "Lyarra was with child when we came south. I'll not dishonor her by laying with another woman."

"Good," Maege said firmly and then turned to look at the guardsman. "Now then, any lords come for a visit while we were gone?"

"Lord Hornwood is in the camp. . . but he didn't make mention of wanting to meet with either of you."

Maege sighed. "So he's here for the whores, must have come here straight from the meeting to have beaten us back. Anyone else?"

"There was a strangely dressed fellow who was looking for Lord Hornwood. Said he was a Northern lord from House Vonkarsteen."

Jorah furrowed his brow. "I've never heard of House Vonkarsteen."

"Neither had I, m'lord. I almost didn't let him in but he said he used to be a Snow and only earned the new name during the war. Sounded reasonable to me."

"Hmm, wonder who he's sworn to," Maege said. "And you're sure he said he was a lord?"

"Yes. 'Lord Torrhen Vonkarsteen' was how he introduced himself."

Maege rubbed her chin. "He's not a masterly house then, raised straight to a lordly house. Interesting."

"Auntie. . . what are you thinking?" Jorah asked.

"I'm thinking I have unbetrothed daughters and a new lord might want a wife from a house with a long and honored history."

Under normal circumstances, a noble woman wanting to find a husband for her daughters would not be unusual. But Mormont women were an independent sort, and Maege was even moreso. Such behavior seemed contrary to her own life.

"You're actually going to tie Dacey to a man?" Jorah paused and thought carefully about his next words. "You don't have a husb-"

"Oh, shut your mouth," Maege interrupted. "I know what you're about to say. No, I have no plans on forcing my daughters into a marriage they may not want. Nothing wrong with meeting the man though. Hells, maybe he'll impress me enough I'll offer myself, unlikely as I think that to be."

"I see. . . well, that's much more reasonable."

"Glad you approve, nephew dear," Maege drawled.

Focusing back on the guardsman, Jorah spoke, "Right, you said Lord Vonkarsteen was dressed strangely. How so?"

"His hat was very wide and he had a rug draped over his shoulders."

"My opinion of him is already dropping," Maege said as she got off her horse.

"You're spending too much time with southerners if you're judging a man by his attire," Jorah argued as he dismounted.

The two Mormonts started walking into the tent city, two of their house guards following behind them while the third took all the horses off to the temporary stables.

Continuing the conversation, Maege said, "There's nothing wrong with a big hat to keep falling snow off your head and you gotta do whatever you can to stay warm, so if the rug works good for him. But we're not in the North, where being cold is a near constant concern. Which means I will absolutely judge him for wearing clothes that don't make any damn sense."

"Maybe don't mention that when we meet him?"

"Do you think I'm as witless as an Ironborn?" Maege snapped. "I have some sense."

Jorah may have been imagining it, but he was sure he heard one of their escorts chuckle behind him. When he turned to look, both men were stone faced and staring straight ahead. Jorah could only sigh.

You'd think I'd be used to her by now. I'm the head of House Mormont, Lord of Bear Island. Yet when I'm around her it's like I'm seven again. I even revert to my childhood name for her, Auntie. Why? Why am I unable to call her Maege to her face?

Jorah decided against saying anything else to his aunt, letting the group walk in silence. They wove their way through the haphazard collection of tents that made up the outer ring of the Mormont territory. This was where a lot of the support citizenship of their section was living; the seamstresses that would repair torn clothing for the brothels, the merchants that sold perfume or soap, and a few of the whores from elsewhere in the city that knew the men with money were coming here. Once they moved further in, things became much more organized, the tents were set up in neat rows with proper space between each that would allow a group of people to walk by unimpeded. Having wide pathways wasn't just a matter of pride, it was vital to keeping order. Jorah's men needed to be able to quickly go to any disturbances and they had to get there as a group, arriving one by one would not help calm things down.

I really should make an effort to get the outer ring properly spaced. The city's best whores are here, we're going to keep growing until King's Landing is safe to reenter. I probably should have privately asked Lord Stark if he could spare some men to assist with the task.

The meeting of the Northern lords that Jorah and Maege had just come from had been organized by Lord Stark as a way to find out the state of things for the army, if supplies were running low, how successful each of the houses were at keeping order in the temporary fiefdoms of King's Landing smallfolk, moral of the Northern smallfolk who were being kept from returning home, that sort of thing. Not wanting to look weak in front of his liege lord and the other houses, Jorah hadn't mentioned anything at the meeting and, as he contemplated the task before him, he was regretting it.

Well, Maege was there and she didn't say anything either. She probably thinks we can handle it ourselves. And if that's what she thinks, she's probably right. She knows our men quite well and what they're capable of.

"Is that him?" Maege asked, pointing a ways off to the side and ahead. "He does cut a noticeable figure with that hat."

Following his aunt's finger, Jorah saw a man standing next to a tent-

Jorah blinked and rubbed his eyes before looking again.

I was right, he's reading a book. The best brothels King's Landing has to offer have moved into the tents around us and he's reading a book. What a strange man.

"Ho there!" Maege called out, drawing the lord's attention up from the book in his hands. He closed it with a snap and tucked in under his arm.

"Greetings, ah." Jorah watched the man's pale eyes flick down to their crests. "Ah! Mormont! You must be Maege."

"Indeed. And this is my nephew," Maege slapped Jorah on the back for emphasis. "Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island."

"A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Torrhen von Carstein, newly named Lord of the Dreadfort."

"The Dreadfort? So the Boltons really are all dead?" Maege asked.

Am I even needed here? I have the feeling Auntie is going to talk over me if I try to say anything.

Torrhen was slow to answer. "Lord Stark received word from a source he trusts that there are no surviving Boltons."

"And Lord Stark gave you the holding of one of his most powerful bannermen. You must have done something big to earn that."

Torrhen shook his head. "I'm not getting the whole holding, just the castle and the surrounding area. That's why I'm here actually."

"You're here to see Lord Hornwood," Jorah said as the realization set in.

"We knew that already," Maege said, her tone sharp. "Bran told us or did you forget that so soon after?"

"Not what I meant," Jorah replied, trying to keep his voice calm. He didn't want to argue in front of a new lord. "I was referring to the fact that if the Bolton holding is being reduced before becoming Vonkarsteen-"

"Von Carstein," Torrhen corrected, slowly saying the name. "Sorry, it's foreign but it has meaning to me. I know it's a mouthful."

"Ah, my apologies," Jorah said with a nod before resuming his point. "So if the Bolton holding is being reduced before becoming von Carstein holding, then that means the outer lands will either host new lords or be absorbed by the neighbors. And the nearest neighboring lord is Halys Hornwood."

"While Ne- erm, Lord Stark hasn't told me the specific details of where he plans on drawing all the borders, he did mention that Hornwood lands would be expanding. I thought I should meet the man and see if I could establish good relations." Torrhen paused. "When his men told me where he was going, they failed to mention why he was coming here. I would have waited for another time if I had known the reason. Though the fact that they called this the Gropecunt Camp should have been a tipoff, in retrospect."

Jorah held back a groan. I was wondering how long before we got called something like that. I guess it's not the worst name possible, doesn't disparage our House at least.

Maege laughed. "What makes you say that? Every woman knows the best time to ask a man for something is right after he's spilled his seed, it puts you all in a great mood."

Torrhen rubbed the back of his neck and seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Maege. Jorah suddenly felt a deep kinship with the man. "Perhaps, but he is married so he might assume an ulterior motive to my being here. I'm not looking to create tension between Halys and his wife."

"Well, ain't you the thoughtful one." Maege sported a feral grin. "Shame more men aren't as considerate. I might be married if that was the case."

Torrhen seemed uncomfortable as he spoke, "I try. Jaime pointed out that I'm not good at dealing with nobles, so he's been giving me pointers during our spars."

"Jaime Lannister?" Jorah asked in surprise. "The Kingslayer?

"The savior of King's Landing," Torrhen countered. "By killing Aerys he stopped the entire city from going up in green flames. We're just lucky that he told his father about it before someone accidentally knocked a pot over. Otherwise we might have died as painfully as that team a couple days ago."

Jorah couldn't help but wince. "I heard about that. Group of Reachmen, I think?"

"Apparently, in an effort to make up for the fact that he supported the other side during the war, Lord Tyrell volunteered the limited troops he brought to the city to head up wildfire disposal duty. According to Jaime, they looked very nice in their shiny armor but most of the men didn't have a brain in their helmets. Looks like his assessment was accurate for at least one group."

"Any survivors?"

Torrhen shrugged. "I've heard different accounts. Some say everyone died, others say a few lived long enough to point fingers as to who was to blame. There's even one story floating around that claims Lord Tarly was caught in the explosion, died, and was given new life because the Stranger found him to be too surly to deal with."

Maege laughed. "Does anyone believe that last one?"

"Probably not, but it's fun to imagine so I doubt people will stop telling it."

"Well if I ever see Lord Tarly wearing a cloth over his face like you, I'll assume he's covering up horrible burn scars."

Jorah resisted the urge to rub his face. While that was subtle by Maege's standards, that doesn't mean it was actually subtle. I hope Torrhen doesn't take offense.

Fortunately, it seemed he did not. "Indeed. I have the opposite problem actually. I'm so incredibly handsome that women can't resist throwing themselves at me so I have to cover my face for my own protection. I'm good in a scrap but I can't fight off a horde of angry fathers and jealous husbands."

Jorah rolled his eyes while Maege howled with laughter. When she calmed down she said, "That was creative, I'll give you that. I was expecting a manly story about battle scars."

"Thanks, but I can't claim credit. Prince Oberyn thought it up."

He spars with Jaime Lannister and he knows Oberyn Martell? How is a Northern bastard so well connected? Just what did he do during the war to earn his lordship?

Maege seemed to pick up the implications as well. "So tell me Lord von Carstein, do you have a lucky woman back home who will get to be called Lady von Carstein?"

Torrhen shook his head. "No. And no betrothal either."

"Really?" Maege asked, a large smile splitting her face. "I've got two daughters and one of them, Dacey, is at the age when I need to start thinking about potential future husbands. Mayhaps you want to come visit Bear Island in a year or two? After you've settled into your new holdings of course, figured out how many smallfolk you have on your land and such. If all goes well, I could send you back to the Dreadfort with a number of loyal men, something I imagine will be hard for you to come by."

"You're not wrong. I've only got three, maaaaybe four men I trust. And one of them I sent away for a years long mission." Torrhen let out a breath, causing the cloth draped over the lower half of his face to flutter. "I'm not agreeing to a betrothal right now, as you said I'd like to understand what my newfound lands actually are first, but I will be happy to visit Bear Island and meet your daughter afterwards."

"Excellent! Walk with me Lord von Carstein, I've got some ale we can drink to celebrate."

Without giving the man a chance to respond, Maege wrapped an arm around Torrhen's shoulders and marched the two off in the direction of her tent. One of the house guards followed after the pair while the other stayed with Jorah.

"If she ends up with another child from this at least we'll know the father wasn't a bear this time." The guard coughed and quickly added, "My lord."

He's not wrong exactly. "I don't think Maege would risk ruining Dacey's chances with a good husband just for a tumble in her tent."

~Eddard Stark~

The king's tent was of far greater quality than his own, the chairs were more comfortable, the food tasted better. Everything about it was better, as one would expect. It would be unusual if the king's lodgings (recently made judging by how clean they were and the lack of dragon sigils) were not better than a lord paramount's who had initially come prepared for war.

Still smells like shit though.

Eddard had been to White Harbor, he had been to Gulltown, both cities. He had grown up in Winterfell, walked through Wintertown many times, he had visited Sunspear, the Eyrie, and Storm's End. None of those places stank like King's Landing did.

We're not even in the city, we're miles away and the smell still makes its way over here.

Eddard didn't know how Robert could stand it. Ned hadn't liked it last time he was here, during the Sack, but he had had other things on his mind at the time.

As the king, he's going to live the rest of his life in the city. Maybe he'll grow tired of the smell and decide to do something about it.Admittedly, I'm not sure what could be done but Robert's the king, I'm sure he can find a maester that has an idea or two.

The two men were relaxing in Robert's tent, with Baratheon guards outside. Morgana, the wetnurse that had accompanied them from Sunspear, was sitting off the side, nibbling on some meat and cheese. Jaime Lannister stood next to her.

Eddard didn't know how to feel about the Kingsguard. The Lannister had slain Aerys, the man he had sworn to protect and obey. But the Mad King had been planning to immolate the entirety of King's Landing, every man, woman, and child consumed in green fire just to spite the rebellion. Killing the king before such a thing could occur was the right decision.

Kingslayer or Savior of King's Landing? Which moniker will he be remembered by? Which one does he deserve to be remembered by?

While it was abundantly clear which one name Torrhen preferred Jaime to be known by, Eddard couldn't make up his mind. Not because he disagreed with Jaime's decision, Ned would have done the same thing in that position, but just because it was the right decision didn't mean it was the honorable one.

Is the stain of the bad deed washed away by the virtue of good one? Even when it's the same act? He sacrificed his honor as a Kingsguard to save millions of lives. Shouldn't that be deserving of honor? So why does it feel wrong to say such?

Robert didn't care much about the honor or lack thereof of Jaime's action. He had refused Eddard's suggestion that the Kingslayer be forced to take the black back when they found him on the Iron Throne and now that he knew the reason behind it, Robert considered the Lannister a hero. He'd been trying to get Jaime to drink with him, but was so far always refused as 'a Kingsguard shouldn't drink while protecting his charge.'

And he is a hero, he deserves to have songs sung about him. But he is still a Kingsguard that killed his king. That. . . that shouldn't just be dismissed.

Eddard was drawn from his thoughts by Robert laughing as he bounced Jon on his knee. Ned watched Robert wiggle his fingers in front of Jon's face, the babe giggled and tried to grasp the large digits.

"He reminds me of Mya, so eager to play. Remember when her mother told us she was a terror to keep track of once she learned how to crawl?"

"I do. She should be about three by now," Ned commented. "Any plans for her?"

Robert grinned when Jon finally got a hold of one of his fingers. "Hadn't thought about it, to be honest. Why? Do you think I should?"

"She's your blood, Robert. Your daughter. You owe it to her to ensure she has a good life."

Robert sighed and looked down at the babe in his lap. Jon had begun sucking on the finger he had caught. "I suppose you're right. Any ideas?"

"Formally acknowledge her as your bastard, see that her mother has enough money to raise her properly, and when she's of age find a suitable man for her." Surprisingly, it was not Ned who had spoken but Jaime Lannister. When Ned and Robert both looked at the Kingsguard, the blond huffed and gave a short explanation, "A man should look after his family."

"I agree with him," Ned admitted. Despite his reputation for brutality, it sounds as though Tywin Lannister did teach his son some good lessons.

"You agree with the Lannister?" Robert raised an eyebrow as he regarded Ned. "Never thought I'd hear that, suppose he must be speaking the truth then."

"Just because Lord Stark didn't approve of my slitting the Mad King's throat doesn't mean he disagrees with everything I say or do." Jaime frowned and looked at Eddard. Ned returned his gaze. "At least, I hope that's the case. Would be a shame if you proved Torrhen a liar. He has nothing but good things to say about you during our spars."

Eddard didn't know what to say in response. Torrhen had mentioned he was meeting with Jaime regularly, but his brother hadn't said anything about what they did. Torrhen is willingly sparring with someone? That almost feels like a bigger deal than the fact that he drinks blood.

Robert, unaware of Eddard's thoughts, bellowed out, "Ned gave the man a lordship, and a good one at that, even if it has a creepy name. He better be singing Ned's praises if he doesn't want to get tossed back to Essos."

"Robert. . ." Eddard groaned.

Robert waved his hand, Jon had apparently stopped sucking on it and seemed content to watch the adults talk. "Bah, you know I don't mean anything by it. He found Lyanna, rescued her. That's earned him plenty of goodwill, from me at least." Robert turned to look at his bodyguard. "Your father doesn't seem too pleased with the man though."

Jaime grimaced and shifted in place. "Father. . . he doesn't like that by killing Clegane and Lorch, Torrhen took away his ability to punish them for their failure to follow his orders."

Jaime doesn't sound like he believes that. Why is he lying about it? Does he not want to admit he doesn't know his father's thoughts? Is he embarrassed that he isn't closer to him? Or is there something else? Urgh, I spent too long in Dorne if I'm noticing this sort of thing.

Not for the first time, Eddard found himself annoyed with how southerners dealt with each other. He longed to return home to the North, where people were honest and open about their intentions.

Robert, however, nodded, seemingly taking Jaime at his word. "Understandable. His men, his responsibility."

They lapsed into silence, which caused Jon to make some noise. Robert grinned and started babbling nonsense at the babe, who giggled in return. "Hard to believe he's half dragon. He looks just like a Stark."

The comment caught Eddard by surprise. "Really? He's got the eyes but. . ."

"And the face, I can see traces of Lyanna." Robert smiled sadly. "I still remember the last time I saw her, at Harrenhal. Her face, her hair, her clothes, everything. Looking at him, I can tell this babe is, without any doubt, her son."

"That's why it doesn't matter to me who his father is. Jon is my family."

"Aye." Robert loudly cleared his throat and when that didn't seem to work, coughed several times as he blinked repeatedly. "Jon is no Targaryen, he's a Stark. And I'll make it proper before you leave."

"Robert, that's generous but-"

"Shut up Ned. I'll not have it known the woman I love fathered a bastard, bad enough he's half dragonspawn. I'm the king, Jon's a Stark, you'll raise him as a wolf. That's the end of it."

Eddard could tell this wasn't something he should argue about. It wasn't even something he necessarily wanted to argue about, Ned knew several bastards who would have loved to be officially welcomed into their parents' house, but it felt unearned.

A man should get a reward after he did something worthy of it, not because his family knows the king.

"You could raise him here, you know," Robert said. "You don't have to return to the North. I could use you on the Small Council."

Eddard shook his head. "No. If Jon is to be a Stark he should grow up in Winterfell, and I'll not leave his rearing to someone else."

Robert scowled but there was no anger when he spoke, "Damn it Ned, you were always the responsible one of us, that's why I wanted you here. But you're right, curse you, you're right. The responsible thing is to look after your family."

"Thank you Robert."

After giving a nod, the king went back to playing with Jon who was more than happy to be the center of attention again.

He's only a little older than my son. Hopefully they'll grow up as close as brothers.

They had recently received several missives from Riverrun, included among them was a message from his wife saying she had given birth to a healthy boy. She was holding off picking a name, wanting to let Eddard decide what to name his son.

My first son, but not my first child.

Ashara had surprised him many times since they met. She had surprised him when she agreed to dance with him at Harrenhal. She had surprised him when she allowed him to court her. She had surprised him when she asked him to lay with her when they weren't even betrothed. She had surprised him when she sent a letter from Starfall, informing him that Lyanna had been rescued by the Martells and was being held in Sunspear. She had surprised him when he arrived at Starfall and she told him that the Martells had a man that controlled a flying, skeletal dragon. But the biggest surprise of all was when they were in Sunspear, she had sought him out when he was alone to tell him she had given birth to a dead girl at Starfall.

I wish she had told me when we had been at Starfall, I would have visited her grave.

Despite being stillborn, Ashara had given their daughter a good Northern name. Lysara Sand, a girl of the northernmost and southernmost kingdoms.

And I couldn't even do Ashara the honor of marrying her, because of the war. We needed the Riverlands. I had to take Catelyn as a wife.

Ashara had, understandably, been emotional about the whole experience. She had expected to be a mother to a healthy child and to be able to marry Eddard once the war was over. They had discussed the possibility of marriage at Harrenhal, back when Eddard was just the spare to Brandon. Ned had been sure his father wouldn't have minded a marriage to a well regarded Dornish house, even if it didn't bring them many tangible benefits.

Instead, Ashara's child was dead and the man she wanted was already married to another woman. And Ned refused to dishonor his wife just because his heart was held by someone else. Ashara had returned to Starfall when Eddard had boarded the boat to King's Landing.

Should I write to her? Or would it be better to leave her in the past? I just. . . I don't know what to do. Would Arthur know what the best option would be?

The undead former Kingsguard was still keeping to the order Torrhen had given him back in Sunspear, to guard Jon, but was forced to keep his distance as Torrhen had been adamant that Arthur's identity not be discovered while they were in King's Landing. So the knight had had to keep his distance on the occasions Eddard brought Jon to see Robert or Jon Arryn. But otherwise, Arthur was always within sight of Jon.

At least his helm and armor were reworked before we left Sunspear. He doesn't look like Arthur Dayne the Kingsguard anymore, merely a well paid sellsword in a face covering helmet.

Eddard was drawn from his thoughts by Robert holding a crying Jon out to Morgana. Ned was about to ask what happened but a quick sniff made the problem clear.

"Do you wish me to bring him back after I clean and change him?"

Robert shook his head. "I don't really think that's necessary. He probably needs some sleep anyway. Unless you think differently, Ned?"

"I'll leave that up to Morgana to decide. Dealing with anyone that young is something I don't have experience in. If she thinks Jon is hungry or needs sleep or whatever, I'll defer to her."

"Very well m'lord, your Grace." Morgana bowed and exited the tent, Jon in her arms.

"Lyanna will like him," Robert said, watching the wetnurse leave.

"I know very few women that don't like their sons," Jaime said, just loud enough for Ned and Robert to hear.

Robert shot a glare at the Lannister but rather than say something, he turned back to Eddard. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I just mean that. . . well, the Targaryens are monsters, utterly insane monsters. If we needed any more proof of that." Robert gestured around him. "We're not having this discussion in the Red Keep."

"Very true," Eddard agreed. Where is he going with this?

Robert rubbed his hands over his face. "So. . . urgh, gods this is hard. I think all the dragon fuckers should be put to the sword. Jon is half Targaryen, he's not really a Targaryen. And he's just a babe, anyway. He's a Stark, or he will be, soon. I don't think Jon should be put to the sword. I guess what I'm saying is, if I can like him, after everything. . . Lyanna will too."

What is he-oooooh, right. I did mention that I didn't know what Lyanna's plans were, since I couldn't well tell them that she'd be living with Torrhen until he declared her safe to be around.

"I'm sure Lyanna would love to be a mother," Ned said honestly. "I just worry that there are people that will act to prevent that."

The king was silent for a moment as he looked at Eddard. "You mean me." It was a statement, not a question.

"Not. . . just you," Eddard said reluctantly. This was not an easy subject to discuss with his friend.

Robert sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands as he stared down at his feet. "If I married her, she wouldn't be able to bring Jon south with her," he admitted.

"No, she wouldn't. His presence would do nothing but trigger a succession crisis when you died. Bad enough his father was Rhaegar but being raised by the current king and queen? It's guaranteeing that you're setting up a problem for later. Especially when she can't give you any children of your own."

"And that's assuming no problems arose while I'm still alive. I'm sure dragon loyalists would love to rally around him just so they could stick a sword in my back. Fuck me."

Robert continued looking at his feet and Ned let the conversation lapse as he didn't know what to say.

I hate to see Robert like this, this weighs heavily on his mind. Still, at least he's thinking about it, I was worried his hatred of Targaryens would overrule his good sense when it came to Lyanna and Jon.

A glance at the Lannister showed Jaime was looking at the king with a slight frown on his face.

Maybe I should see if Lyanna would be willing to exchange some messages with Robert. He's got a year before Jon will make him marry, she could ease Robert into the idea maybe.