Chapter 10

~Eddard Stark~

Catelyn was not Lyanna.

That should be rather obvious, Catelyn was quite clearly his wife, not his sister, but Eddard hadn't realized how much growing up with Lyanna had impacted his thinking when it came to how to treat a noblewoman of Winterfell.

When he had returned home and met his wife and his newborn son, to his dismay Ned had not been able to spend much time with them. He had too many other duties that demanded his attention as the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The only time he was able to talk to his wife had been at meal times and even then she had not been his sole focus, there was always some paper he needed to look over, some issue he had to deal with.

So it was when Eddard felt he had finally gotten a proper handle on his workload, once he realized he had an afternoon that would be mostly free, that he asked Catelyn if she would like to go on a horseback ride through some trails in the Wolfwood. Just the two of them (plus some guards of course) on a nice, peaceful, quiet ride through the natural beauty of the North. She had agreed, though hesitantly, something Ned hadn't noticed at the time. And the ride had indeed been nice, peaceful, and quiet. . . for Ned. Catelyn knew how to ride a horse but it became clear very quickly that she didn't get enjoyment out of the activity, it was simply another method of transportation for her. She didn't complain, didn't whine to Ned, didn't take out her negativity on the guards, but it was clear from the pinched expression on her face what her thoughts on spending the day riding through the woods were. So at the end of it when they had returned to Winterfell, Eddard had thanked her for spending time with him and they went their separate ways.

There was a tension between the married couple, and Ned didn't know what he should do to get rid of it. It was clear why the tension was there; they had been forced to marry because of the war despite not being betrothed to each other, she was a Southerner living in the North, they had a son together but barely talked to each other, and now he had inadvertently forced her to spend most of a day doing something she didn't like.

So he'd gone back to burying himself in his work. It wasn't the action of a brave man, but Ned didn't know what else to do and it wasn't as if he was wasting his time. There were always small problems that would arise in a keep of this size, typically not things that needed the attention of the Lord of Winterfell but by interjecting himself Ned gained a greater understanding of how his smallfolk lived which he felt was useful knowledge that would serve him well.

That lasted for a while, longer than he had honestly expected, until Benjen brought two bottles of wine into Ned's solar and locked the door behind him.

"Right," Benjen said as he held up the bottles for Ned to pick from. "I want to go visit Lyanna and Torrhen so I am not waiting around any longer, lest I come back and find things even worse. Let's talk about you and Catelyn."

Ned had never been a big wine drinker, much preferring the taste of mead or beer, so he simply made a grabbing motion at the bottle in Benjen's left hand despite not bothering to look at the label. Benjen passed it to him and took a seat while opening the remaining bottle.

"I'm not sure things are bad enough that-"

"Ned," Benjen interrupted. "I saw how Mother and Father interacted. I mediated disputes between a lot of worried wives while you were down south with the men. I know that not all husbands and wives will get along all the time, but you and Catelyn have been avoiding each other for weeks and neither of you has shown any signs of planning to change that. Do you want your only interactions with her to be when you bed her?"

While Eddard liked to think he was a compassionate, reasonable lord that encouraged his smallfolk to speak their minds that didn't mean he would tolerate such words from a sworn subject. . . except Benjen was family, one of the few people Eddard would tolerate such words from so instead of snapping an angry response, Ned considered his brother's words.

I don't want a cold relationship with Catelyn, I want us to get along. But he's right, things won't improve if I don't try. The horse ride was a bad idea but that doesn't mean I should give up just because the first attempt failed. So. . . what should I do?

Ned tried to think of some course of action he could take while Benjen silently began drinking some wine straight from the bottle. Unfortunately, he had nothing, could come up with no ideas. He sighed and opened up his own wine bottle and took a swig. It tasted terrible and it must have shown on his face because Benjen started laughing.

"Was this made from auroch piss?" Ned asked with a grimace.

"Well, it is a golden wine but no, it came from grapes."

"Ugh, are you sure? Never known a grape to taste that bad unless it was rotten." Ned licked the back of his hand several times to get the taste out of his mouth. "Whatever you have has to be better than that, switch with me."

As the two exchanged bottles, Benjen spoke, "What are you gonna do? How are you going to bridge the gap between you and your wife?"

"I could. . . join her in needlepoint?" Eddard said, grasping for anything to say. "Torrhen enjoyed doing that with Mother."

"Do you know how to sew?"

"I know the basics. Possibly." Ned wilted under his brother's flat stare before rallying. "Alright, let's hear some of your ideas pup"

"I would think the most obvious one would be going to see her when she's playing with Robb and Jon. She enjoys spending time with them so she'll be in a good mood when you talk to her. The boys are something you two have in common, after all. They are son and nephew to both of you."

"That. . . is a good idea. Damn it, why didn't I think of that?"

"Don't feel bad. It's like Lyanna and I used to say, when you were in the womb Torrhen stole all your wits but you took his manliness."

Ned glared at his brother but Benjen didn't care, taking a drink of the wine bottle with a smile.

Others take him, his face didn't even twitch when he swallowed that. Eddard tried the new wine and, while he was hesitant to call it good, it was leagues better than the other bottle.

"If you're just going to insult me, let's talk about something else."

"Anything particular in mind?" Benjen asked.

"I'm the Lord of Winterfell now and you're a man grown, have you given any thought to what you want to do for your future?"

"I've bandied about ideas but nothing I'm sure on. That's a secondary reason why I wish to go to the Dreadfort, to seek Lyanna's advice."

"Not Torrhen's?"

Benjen shrugged but didn't answer. Truthfully, he didn't need to provide one, Ned knew the reason. Of all his siblings, Benjen had been closest with Lyanna. Sure, Benjen and Torrhen got along and loved each other, just as Ned and Benjen did, but it wasn't at the same level.

"Going back to you though," Benjen said slowly. "It won't be enough to just talk to Catelyn, you are aware of the cause of the divide between you two, right?"

"We've barely had enough time together to get to know one another. There was no betrothal period to exchange messages or even meet. We never crossed paths at Harrenhal."

"That's. . . true. But you know that isn't the main reason." At Ned's blank stare Benjen stared back incredulously. "Wait, do you not know what I'm getting at?"

Not wanting to spend time guessing, Ned growled out, "Just tell me."

"Ashara!" Benjen shouted in frustration.

Ned felt his mouth go dry at the sound of her name, the mother of his daughter. He hadn't mentioned Ashara to Catelyn but it was foolhardy to assume she'd never find out about the woman he'd loved. He had just thought it would be years from now.

Or would 'still love' be more accurate? I am married, I'll not dishonor my wife but I shouldn't lie to myself either.

"So she knows?" Ned asked tiredly.

Benjen nodded. "I don't know who told her, maybe she merely overheard someone talking, but yes, she knows.

"How should I even broach the subject with her?"

"That I don't know."

The two brothers said no more, the silence of the room only broken by the swishing of wine when one of them lifted a bottle to their lips.

~Garth Flowers~

What is a 'proper American breakfast' and why does it require tree sap?

After meeting him, Garth had been tentatively hopeful that his lord wouldn't be a terrible ruler. While the former sellsword was surprisingly well educated he also had queer ideas and seemed determined for them to be followed through on. While Garth was able to understand the theory behind the 'moonshine still' and was possibly, maybe willing to concede that it might work as intended once completed, that didn't mean all of Torrhen's ideas held merit.

He's a lord now. He shouldn't be acting like a maester, trying to ferret out the secrets of the world.Next thing I know he'll take an interest in counting coppers.

Garth was still adjusting to living in his new home, something Lord von Carstein seemed aware of since he was only occasionally giving Garth tasks and so far had never asked for his counsel. That hadn't stopped him from sending Garth to oversee the set-up of the sap collection process though. Instead of doing any of his numerous duties as maester of the Dreadfort, where he was protected from the biting wind by thick walls and large fires, Garth was riding a horse to some no name village.

How does he expect me to finish getting the still built if I'm traipsing through a forest looking for specific trees to drill holes into?

Garth wasn't being entirely honest with himself, Torrhen had already identified several patches of maple trees during his own tour of the holdfast, Garth was just there to make sure the smallfolk harvested the sap correctly (not that Garth knew for sure the best method to do so, but he had a brass link for agricultural in his chain and was therefore more knowledgeable than a group of illiterate Northern crofters). But he wasn't about to acknowledge any of that, he was far too annoyed with the entire situation for that kind of honest self reflection.

How does he even know tree sap can be turned into food? Especially given that he doesn't have a clue how to do it. "I dunno, maybe boil it?' does not inspire confidence.

Garth's mood wasn't helped by the fact that one of the men sent with him was Oswell. While he shouldn't complain that his lord sent one of his best swords to guard him, for Oswell dominated the sparring yard unless Torrhen or the enormous Krell were there, it still unnerved Garth being around the man. According to the servants and guards Oswell never took off his helm, didn't eat or use the privy, and rarely spoke.

At least Lady Lyanna acts like a proper noble. And Lord von Carstein seems to listen to her so she can reign him in, when she chooses to anyway.

Lyanna had been odd, but a normal kind of odd. She was not a demure maiden but considering she was the instigating cause of a war that toppled the Targaryens, Garth hadn't expected her to be. She was clearly aware of everything that had happened because of her kidnapping, how many lives had been lost, and that weighed on her.

Or maybe Northern women are naturally stoic, hard to be founts of happiness when you live here of all places.

Despite how much Lyanna controlled her emotions, his first interaction with her had gone well. She had been just as puzzled as Martyn and Garth by Torrhen's refusal to let a field lay fallow as was customary, and just as horrified when they explained what the impact it would have on the soil, but she had admitted she would only speak up on the matter if Torrhen insisted on forcing the smallfolk to carry out the plan. A decision Garth understood and agreed with (though Martyn hadn't), she couldn't oppose Torrhen on everything lest she lose sway over him, so she would only speak up on truly important matters.

She liked the idea of the moonshine still though, probably because she's looking for a quicker way to get drunk. She may be a woman but she's still a Northerner. Garth pondered it a bit more. I wonder if Northerners are all such drunks specifically because they live in the North. If they lived in the Reach would they still be such lushes?

Garth found himself thinking about it more and more as the group continued along the dirt road. The North, much like Dorne, was generally rather isolated from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, rarely injecting themselves in the politics of Westeros, preferring to remain within their own borders. Because of that, there were not a large number of examples of Northerners spending significant time south of the Neck.

Although, the libraries of the Northern Houses might have more detailed accounts of their own people than the Citadel does. I'll send some ravens out when I return to the Dreadfort. Lord von Carstein made that off hand comment about putting my name on his 'discoveries,' no doubt an attempt to give them a sense of legitimacy by claiming a maester was responsible, but he wasn't wrong in that I could write a book about something to make my mark on the world.

Writing about the drinking habits of Northerners wasn't the most dignified of scholarly pursuits but Garth was limited by what he had available. The North was simply not that interesting to most maesters, many of them wouldn't care about anything Garth were to write unless he could tie it back into the other kingdoms somehow.

I wonder if there are tales of southerners becoming drunks after they came to the North? That would be even further proof that it is indeed this cursed kingdom that causes so many people to become dependent on alcohol, it's one of the best ways to cope with the cold.I'll have to send a raven to the maester in White Harbor, the city is bound to have more southerners than any other place in the North. Hmmm, other than possibly the Wall. How many men are even stationed there? I'll write to the maester there as well. Or are there multiple maesters? Given it's enormous length, how is the Wall garrisoned? Forts at even intervals?

Garth was not liking the realization that he had a lot of learning about his new homeland to do. It wasn't that he was opposed to reading books on history, he had multiple copper links in his chain after all, it was that it meant more of his time was going to be eaten up when he was already stretched thin as it was.

And it will be even worse if Lord von Carstein insists on going through with his census idea. While I agree it can be important to know how many smallfolk he has on his lands, if he needs to raise levies it's good to know how much he needs to outfit them, I fail to see why knowing their ages, professions, locations matter enough to waste my time interviewing them all and writing it down. I got lucky by pointing out that such a task would keep me from working on the moonshine still but that will only work for so long. If I say I want to stay at the Dreadfort to oversee the crop rotation experiment that should buy me. . . a year, maybe two. Will depend on how long until we kill the fields by overfarming them.

Garth shivered as a powerful wind blew down the road, hitting him and his group from behind. At least he had been able to find a seamstress at the Dreadfort to sew a thicker lining into his robes so the wind didn't cut through his outfit quite as strongly now. Now he was merely uncomfortably chilled by the weather instead of fearful of his manhood freezing and falling off.

Feels like for each step forward I take in improving my life here in the North something else forces me to take a step backwards. . .usually my new lord.

~Ashara Dayne~

King's Landing was just as horrid as the last time she had been here. Too many people, too little space, too many disgusting smells, too many bad memories.

Though the Stag King seems unlikely to burn people alive, so he's already an improvement on Aerys.

Ashara didn't particularly want to come back to the city. But she had been a lady-in-waiting for Elia, had lived in King's Landing and Dragonstone, she knew how to navigate the politics of court successfully. So Doran Martell had requested that she return, to ensure that Dorne was not punished harshly for being on the losing side of the war.

So many lives, hundreds and thousands of people, ruined or lost all because of the Mad King.

Events may have started when Lyanna ran off with Prince Rhaegar, but when Brandon Stark traveled to King's Landing it was all of Aerys' decisions that started Robert's Rebellion.

I would be married to an honorable man, he would have comforted me when I gave birth to our dead daughter. We would be living in the North or in Dorne and I wouldn't be here!

But she was here, she was unwed, and her sweet Ned was in Winterfell with his wife.

She had hoped and prayed during the war that the people she cared about would survive. And that had happened, but it was like some cruel jape from the Gods. Elia had lost her son and was hiding in Sunspear with her daughter, fearful of assassins and the machinations of others, Arthur could walk and talk but was just a corpse animated by magic, Ned was alive but married.

Ashara had contemplated throwing herself from the towers at Starfall after she had given birth to Lysara, and then again later at Sunspear when she had realized that Ned was lost to her and that, despite his words, Arthur wasn't truly her brother anymore. But she hadn't found the strength to do that. Elia had needed her, as a friend, as one mother of a lost child to another. Rhaenys had enjoyed having her around, a familiar face in the strange land, and Ashara could not bear the thought of disappointing the girl. And now the girl's fate could very well rest in Ashara's hands. It was not unreasonable to assume that the king would want his eventual son and heir to marry Rhaenys, to tie the bloodlines together and prevent a succession crisis, something the Martell family had strongly opposed.

Maybe when I return home, after my task here is concluded, maybe then I can die.

Ashara was currently following a servant through a manse that the Dornish congregation would be staying in, it seemed the freedom of living outside the Red Keep was valued over the convenience of being so close to the king's court. She was brought to a spacious dining area, though the room was largely empty. There was a table in the center of the room, but it wasn't big enough to fill the room while also being too big to have a second one of identical make to match.

Whoever is acting as steward did not do a good job with that purchase, Ashara noted. And it was definitely a recent addition, I can see the scuff marks on the floor from when it was brought in. Do we not have a proper cleaning staff yet either?

Turning her attention from the furniture, Ashara looked at the room's occupants.

"Ashara, looking as lovely as ever," Oberyn said as he stood up. "I trust your trip was uneventful?"

"It was quite peaceful."

"Are you familiar with Larra Blackmont?" Oberyn asked. "She became the Lady of Blackmont after her father perished at the Trident."

Despite being a Stony Dornishmen, Larra clearly had some Sandy heritage given how brown her skin was, contrasting quite sharply with her dusty blonde hair. It was a unique look, not many women had the combination of features that Larra possessed.

She'll be quite the exotic treasure in King's Landing, will probably have many men after her just for that fact alone nevermind that she has land to her name. Ashara's eyes flicked to Larra's bright gold dress. Not sure that compliments her hair color though, her hair is the wrong shade to match that properly.

Ashara shook her head. "We've never had the pleasure of meeting."

"I'm glad you are here, lending your expertise," Larra said as a greeting as Oberyn and Ashara sat down.

"I'll do what I can, the Stags may have replaced the Dragons but much is still the same."

"I don't suppose you're familiar with the king's brother? Despite holding Storm's End against the might of the Reach and then building a fleet to take Dragonstone, not much is known about Stannis Baratheon and yet I'm supposed to pursue a betrothal with him." Larra was perfectly polite as she spoke, giving no indication of her thoughts on that matter. Ashara was impressed, such skill was much needed to survive in Aerys' court and would presumably be equally useful in Robert's.

"Pursue? So there is no betrothal yet? Do you seek to seduce the King's brother?"

Oberyn snorted. "From what I've heard, you'd have an easier time tearing down the Wall with your bare hands than convincing Stannis Baratheon to, ahem, dishonor a maiden."

Ashara blinked in surprise. It was one thing to not want to break marriage vows, but to not want to sleep with a woman at all until marriage was quite another. Not even Ned had held that belief and he was so honorable it hurt to think about. "Who told you that? Are they trustworthy?"

"That would be Torrhen von Carstein, the newest lord of the North. It was he that first suggested the idea of marrying Stannis to a Dornishwoman and told us what he knew of the Stormlord. Now that you are here Ashara, I'm hoping you can corroborate the information."

Of course it comes back to the sorcerer. "I briefly met the Baratheon brother one time, I do not claim to be especially knowledgeable."

"Every little bit helps." Oberyn looked back and forth between the two women for a moment. "Where are manners? Do either of you require a drink? Some food?"

"Not at the moment. Perhaps afterwards," Larra said while Ashara nodded in silent agreement.

"Very well. In that case let's start the discussion. . . or continue it really, given that we already began talking about Stannis. I was told seducing Stannis would be a waste of time and that we would be better served trying to procure a marriage with him, especially now."

Ashara found herself nodding in agreement. "Aye. By now the whole realm will know that the king has ended his betrothal to Lyanna Stark. Every nobleman with an unwed daughter is no doubt preparing to send them to King's Landing, assuming they aren't already on their way. But while they are all aiming for Robert, Stannis will be ignored."

"I've been getting a feel for things in the court. The king likes the idea of Stannis marrying a Dornishwoman though the Hand, Jon Arryn, opposes it."

"Do you know why that is?" Larra asked. "For either man?"

Oberyn let out an unhappy sigh. "Never before have I enjoyed spending time with a man I so dislike and I suspect the feeling is mutual. Robert Baratheon and I get along quite well, until he suddenly remembers we fought for the Mad King, and then things get unpleasant. At some point I'm sure he'll be drunk enough that things might come to blows but so far he's limited himself to throwing insults my way." He paused with a frown. "They aren't even good insults."

"You both are well known for your love of drinking, fighting, and fucking," Ashara said. "As well as your tempers."

Oberyn chuckled and cleared his throat. "Yes, well to answer your question Larra, my belief is that Robert wants Stannis to marry someone from Dorne because of how different we are from the other kingdoms. He thinks it will force his brother to learn how to stop being so rigid in his behavior and thoughts, that he'll have to adapt to the differences."

"And what about the Hand? Why would he oppose me marrying Stannis?"

"That one I am unsure of, presumably it's because he doesn't want to be seen rewarding Dorne with a royal marriage."

"Sounds as though if you can convince Stannis then the marriage will go through," Ashara said.

"I concur," Oberyn said. "So let's discuss how to do that. Torrhen described Stannis as prickly and the sort of man to never forget a slight, partially due to how his brother doesn't give him the respect he feels he is due for his actions."

"I am unaware of the cause of his behavior, but I can confirm that 'prickly' is an accurate way to describe Stannis. He ground his teeth for the entire, though short, time I talked to him at Harrenhal."

"Torrhen also made a prediction, one I am curious to see if it will play out. He said Robert would award Dragonstone to Stannis and give Storm's End to their younger brother, Renly. Something Stannis will see as yet another slight but that Robert will mean as a reward, since the castle is traditionally the holdfast of the Crown Prince."

"When you put it that way I find myself agreeing with the king. . . assuming Torrhen's guess comes true," Larra said.

Does she not know of Torrhen? If a mage of his power makes a prophecy there's no reason it shouldn't come true.

"The point is, you need to make sure you acknowledge Stannis' accomplishments. However," Oberyn said, putting heavy emphasis on the word. "I was told that Stannis despises lickspittles so you have a narrow path to walk. Do not mindlessly agree with or thoughtlessly praise him, you must be precise in what you say."

"So flattery is something to be avoided, that is an important thing to know," Larra said. "I doubtlessly would have made such a mistake if not warned."

"The only other piece of advice Torrhen gave was to seek out one Davos Seaworth. Apparently, he saved Stannis' life and got his fingers chopped off for it."

Ashara and Larra spoke at the same time, "What?"

"He was a smuggler, so he had to be punished for his crimes. But in reward for his service he was made a knight and given a keep. I'd say that speaks quite well of the sort of mindset Stannis Baratheon has, don't you think?"

Larra was resting her head in her hand, fingers rubbing her temple, as she looked at Oberyn with confusion clear across her face. Ashara, having been accustomed to the changing whims of the Mad King, wasn't as shocked but she was still surprised. These actions were that of a man that was either insane or possessed hardened convictions that he would not break. Based on what had already been said, Ashara knew it was the latter.

Hard to seduce indeed, he does not follow the law, he loves it. More than he could love any woman. Ashara looked at Larra. And they want you to marry that.

"Stannis does not sound like what I expected, or hoped for, in a husband," Larra said, straightening in her chair. "But there are worse men I could be married to. I know how to do my duty."

Oberyn grinned. "That's good, consider using those words on Stannis. He'll probably like them."