"Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall" - Varys

Chapter 3: The Lost Princess

Eddard

Eddard stood dumbfounded as he gazed at the girl, woman, who stood in front of him. He had held her once when she was but a babe, swaddled in a cloth barely big enough to cover her red-faced and crying form.

She had been tiny, smaller than Jon had been, but very curious. After he had managed to calm her she had grasped at his cloak, hair, face. Any and everything seemed to have mesmerized her. Her smile, in all it's toothless glory, had been infectious and made his longing for home subside, even for just that immediate moment.

That was sixteen years ago. It seemed that she was still on the small side in both height and width, yet she seemed to look down at him, judge him for all the wrong decisions he had made for the right reasons.

He could clearly see what Daena had meant by she took after her mother's side, the only trace of Targaryen he could find was the fire in her hazel brown orbs.

"Now Lord Stark, why so silent. Frozen tongue? I can assure you that you may speak freely here, this is a circle that cares." Her tone was biting, dripping with sarcasm as she spoke. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she didn't hold the same praise toward him that Rhayna had.

She had cocked her head slightly and raised an eyebrow. Daena had a great influence on the girl he noted. The way she carried herself spoke of confidence.

"Mary." Daena gave her a warning, one that she seemed to heed. Marylean raised her chin and seized him up, before turning towards Daena.

"My apologies Lady Mayor." Daena nodded her head before Marylean turned to leave. "Oh, and Lord Stark, I do hope you have a safe journey back. Accidents do seem to happen in abundance nowadays." With that final comment thrown over her shoulder she closed the oak door behind her, leaving the room bereft.

"That girl has always had a certain flare for the dramatics, very much like Princess Elia." Ned nodded, still seemingly at a loss for words. Seeing her again represented everything he had lost, should have done differently as well as a whirlpool of what ifs. What if he had taken her back with him? No, not an option. He couldn't claim her as another bastard, one was enough. The gods only knew how guilt and shame ate at him all those years.

No, he berated himself. He could not condone his actions then, delivering a scared woman and two children to the harsh cruelty of the world. He deserved to feel shame, loathing and self hatred.

"She looks nothing like Rhaegar," he said, through the guilt that made his mouth taste bitter.

Daena smiled and Ned realized that it was the first time she had ever looked carefree, walls down. "Yes, I thank the gods every time someone from the past sees her. Then again, it made going unnoticed in Dorne a bit more of a challenge."

So she had gone to Dorne. He should've known that the wide-eyed maid would not have listened and remained in exile. As always he remained calm and glanced about the spacious room. It was neat with the trunks standing at the door, most likely packed, ready to grab should the need arise.

"Do they know?" It was best to not preach again. What's done is done. He could do nothing to change that. And he found himself defeated, tired, confused. He was at a complete loss of what to do.

"Now Eddard, I can't go around and reveal my secrets without some form of compensation." He could clearly see what she meant by compensation from the way she eyed him.

"I've refused you once and I'll do so again. I have a wife whom I love very much." She shook her head at that and gestured towards the wine pitcher. He declined, ale was his preference.

"Can't blame a lady for trying, but like I said I'll keep my secrets. Our survival depends on it. Know this though, when war breaks out again, Dorne will not be as dormant and indecisive as before."

Ned nodded, not pushing further. Truth was he was tired. Tired of lies, deceit, betrayal, the absence of his family. It was all taking its toll on him and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it had to become a lot worse before things would look up again.

...

"Rhayna looks just like you." They were sitting in chairs in front of the fire, had been for some time, a pitcher of water nearby. Daena did most of the talking while Ned just answered the questions directed at him.

She spoke mostly of trivial things, some of the places they've seen, people they've met and, as expected of parents, their children.

With her dark features and tall, slender form Rhayna was the spitting image of her mother, even down to the strong jaw, plump lips and sharp, pointed nose. Daena knew her daughter was beautiful, exotic even amongst these pale faces. Even though her breasts were small, her waist flared out to wide hips, perfect for childbearing.

Littlefinger had his eye on her before they had left. The price he was willing to pay for her Dornish features had been rather hefty. The younger one he would come fetch in a few more years, once she had blossomed, he'd said with a flourish. Daena had declined his offer.

"Yes, well better me than her father I'd say." It was true, Rhayna's father had not been the prettiest of men.

They were silent for a few moment before surprisingly Ned spoke again. "Marylean is beautiful, Daena. Her parents would've been proud." Not knowing the girl, Ned couldn't comment on much else aside from her physical appearance. He was a man of Winter, but he wasn't cold in the ground yet. He could see beauty and appreciate it as well as anyone else.

A darkness entered Daena's eyes at his last comment "Yes, she is very beautiful indeed. But like most things in life, beauty such as hers comes at a price, paid in pounds of flesh."

The Wall

Jon watched as Sam grew silent by the fire. It was Sam's first trip to the top of the Wall, his first night on watch and Jon knew he was frightened. The cold Northern wind whistled and howled ominously as it blew across the frozen rampart at the top of the wall, pulling at his heavy cloaks and fur mantel.

His eyes shifted from his anxious companion to the dark horizon again. The land beyond the Wall was barren and the stories that were told spoke of monsters and places men feared to tread. Then again it could've been just old Nan trying to scare him and Robb. It worked and had lead to rather interesting games played in the dark halls of his home.

Needless to say whether it were old wives tales or the stark reality that was concealed by Southerners, he was ready to face whatever lay beyond this wall, ready to protect all those he cared for. That wasn't to say he didn't share Sam's apprehension and fear, but unlike Sam, he had chosen this. It was the right choice, the only choice really. He hadn't had a reason to stay.

His father had been called away to do the king's bidding, taking Sansa and Arya with him. Robb, Bran and Rickon had stayed behind and although it had pained him to leave them, staying at Winter fell in his father's absence had not been an option; Lady Stark would not have it. She had made her feelings clear once again when he went to see Bran before he left. He wasn't welcome, he wasn't wanted. Despite all that, he might have stayed if...

He tried to shut his thoughts down, tried to push their memories away, but they came regardless of his efforts in all their bittersweet splendor.

Her happy smile and bright eyes, the almost obnoxious lilt to her laugh. If she had been there when he left she would've seen his doubts, teased him and most likely offend his manhood in the process.

Heleyna Cassel had grown into a lady and played the part extremely well, but away from the prying eyes of others she would revert back to the terror she had been when they were children, a true thorn in the side.

A smile tugged at his lips when he remembered a particular afternoon long ago when they had all gone fishing in a creak near Winterfell. She hadn't been invited. They thought they'd done a grand thing sneaking off and leaving her behind only to find her already there, on the bank opposite them, proudly displaying the four fat fishes she had caught.

She'd waded across the shallow water not sparing any of them a glance, regal despite her muddy , wet dress hiked up around her knees, fiery hair blowing haphazardly. "I suppose I'd best go," her expression was severe as she continued, "After all, if I stayed you would never catch any fish."

The slight smile on his face grew before changing as another memory crept up on him. He refused to acknowledge their changing relationship at first, but in the end he couldn't resist her. She had chipped off the ice around his heart until only warmth remained and he was consumed by her...

It was past midnight when he finally came to his rooms. Goodbyes had been said and he and Robb had shared some ale and reminisced about the good old days. Now though he found his thoughts once again on Lena. Funny, kind, beautiful Lena who teased him and drove him to his wits end.

She would never be his and she would soon cease to be a Cassel entirely. News of her betrothal was the final nail in the coffin. He could deal with Lady Stark's cold glances and Sansa's indifferent attitude towards him in the presence of her friends, but he could not deal with this.

He needed to find a place for himself and uncle Benjen had given the solution. The Wall. A place where he could make name for himself and where he would not be scorned for being a bastard. He stopped in front of his door and ran a hand through his shorter hair. Tonight would be his last night here.

When he opened the heavy wooden door he was dumbstruck by the sight that awaited him. The rooms built in Winterfell were practical, built by Northerners for Northerners. No lavish decorations or intricate crafts were needed for survival. Less was more and there was no place for beauty in the lands if it's always winter.

There on his moderate sized bed, wrapped in a white fur cloak, his greatest grief awaited him in all her warmhearted glory. Ghost was snoring in front of the fire, built by Lene he presumed.

"You weren't going to say goodbye," she spoke, her voice soft. Void of any accusations. The sadness in her eyes amplified that coursing through his veins.

"I wouldn't be able to leave if I had." He spoke the truth when he said that, always when it came to Lena. She stood as he spoke, almost the same height as him.

"It is alright, I know. I have been doing the same after all." He nodded as she said that, understanding her absence. If only fate had not dealt them her cruel hand. He would've stayed, endured being shunned by the only mother figure he ever knew, for her. Alas, summer with all its happy smiles and stolen moments had to end to make way for the harshness of winter.

" I may marry the Bolton heir in name Jon, but I choose you. Know that. When you are away seeking love, recognition, redemption. In all that you do, know that I choose you." Her voice was steady, sure as if defying her future by speaking those words. He wanted to believe her, wished he could.

White fur pooled at her feet, revealing naked flesh underneath. Long, straight crimson hair kept her breasts hidden from his view and stopped at a waist that flared into shapely hips and long, milky white legs. She walked towards him, his hand resting on the doorknob tightening, as did his stomach.

The ale was off, Robb had drugged him. This was just his mind, playing cruel tricks on him. Reality set in as his vision reached out to him. His eyes immediately went to her face. He gulped, knowing that this couldn't happen, especially now. When she came to a stop in front of him she took his hand off of the doorknob and removed his glove.

Soft, pale lips pressed gentle kisses upon his fingers and her nerves were reflected clearly in moss green eyes. It was one of the reasons he loved her, she wasn't afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve. "I choose you Jon," she repeated before placing his bare hand on her small left breast. His heart pounded in his chest as all the blood seemed to rush to his nether regions.

"Please choose me, just for tonight. Please Jon choose me." He could feel her heart beat rapidly beneath his hand that she held in place. Before he could second guess himself his lips descended upon her pale ones in a searing kiss.

Jon drew away for breath, his mouth instantly moving to map the dusting of freckles upon her shoulders. "Yes, Heleyna, I choose you."

Just like that, a fire was lit between them.

He shook his head , refusing to go any further. They were in the past. The wall was his future.

Varys

Varys stood in his chambers, hands folded in his robes, contemplating his next move. He had received the letter a week before the King's accident. Daena had settled in quite splendidly and he was glad that Arryn had the foresight to pay for her stay a few moons in advance before his death.

Little birds are safely caged, the sun hidden behind the clouds. The snake will catch all whispering mice in due time.

Best not to have any traces of him should they fail. A little bird had told him that the snake had paid Littlefinger a visit. That man knew nothing of the princess thankfully. As far as he was concerned, Daena was simply blessed with two beautiful daughters, the youngest taking after her 'father'.

Varys had not yet paid her a visit since their return, but he had always kept an eye on her, while she was a maid in the Keep and throughout her travels. Birds flew everywhere, even as far as Essos and the Summer Isles. Eddard Stark had made his first mistake in trusting a lowly sea captain's honour sixteen years ago and the Snake did not manage to catch a rat.

Marylean

A pale sky was cast over the bustling peasants of King's Landing; trying to survive another day by any means possible. Amongst them a young woman moved incognito, concealed by a filthy red cloak. The sky seemed to reflect her gloomy mood as she carried a basket of goods with her, trekking towards an old, worn down, cottage situated in Flea Bottom. The streets reeked of piss and sweat, commoners were either fighting, sleeping or engaging in improper activities. She couldn't help but turn her nose up. If her father were still alive and King by now, he would surely not have let this great city be reduced to such a shithole.

People glanced at the woman in red, wanting to steel from, kill or fuck her. A smirk played at her lips at the thought that she was untouchable. No one would dare lay a finger on her in fear of the bear of a man that followed her around. Darion, always watching, never questioning.

After a few more moments of walking- a past time she enjoyed- Marylean finally came upon her destination. She walked the few steps up to the door and knocked.

"You the Miss with the sun and snakes?" She looked down to find a small dirty little, barefooted boy had opened the door slightly; arching an eyebrow at his description of her. Marylean had been called a lot of things in her life, but this was by far the funniest.

"Why don't you let me in and we'll find out?" she said, trying her damnest to suppress a small laugh. He regarded her with an apprehensive, yet curious, expression.

"Nanna says I should't talk to no strangers." She bowed down to his eye level before sticking out her hand. Marylean knew full well how commoners were raised, from a small age, to be weary of strangers. They, herself and Rhayna, even more so.

"Allow me the courtesy of introducing myself then, young Lord. I'm Marylean." He shook her hand and made it clear that she had won his trust.

"I don't want to be no stanky lord, I want to be a knight," he said with as he turned up his nose, at the unappealing proposition. Marylean stood straight and laid one hand on her heart in mock horror, too happy to play pretend with the boy.

"Oh, forgive my folly Ser Knight, surely you can find it in your heart to help a damsel in distress to find her way to Nanna Margot, especially one who is not a stranger." The boy had perched up at that before he took her hand and dragged her inside.

"Sure can do missus, in here," he said, clearly pleased at his new title. Marylean smiled as she contemplated it. Even at a young age men were fickle, a few well placed words and stroking of their ego and they'll do your bidding without second thought. The power, however small it may be at this moment, made her feel a bit bigger, prouder.

He led her past a small kitchen area were hay was thrown on the floor in a corner, covered by a lone blanket, towards another barren room.

"Nanna, the missus you told me about is here, I go play now. Bye mis Mary!" The last was called as an afterthought, the front door already closing at his departure.

She glanced around the small sparsely furnished room. Another straw bed was in the corner to her left, with an old table to her right. In front of the small window, an old rickety chair stood, an even older woman occupying it.

Darkness engulfed the space creating an eerie sense of doom, but then again, the woman had known darkness for most of her life.

"There is only one person that smells like vanilla that would dare put their feet in this place," Nanna Margot's old voice croaked, a toothless smile making the map of wrinkles on her face more prominent. "Welcome back sunshine."

Marylean fell to her knees in front Nanna Margot, kissing her crooked hands and looked up into eyes that saw nothing yet looked at everything. It had been too long since she had gazed into those unseeing eyes and she suddenly felt ashamed after her power high a few moments prior. Sometimes Marylean found that she had problems distinguishing who she truly blamed for her family's demise and took her hatred out on whoever was closest.

"I'm back Nanna and I brought some goods with me, bread, blankets, dried meats, herbs. It is not much but..." she said. Gone was the poised woman from earlier, instead a child sat crushed by the hand of fate.

"Hush now child and let me look at you in silence. Ah, yes you've grown more beautiful I see." For once Marylean didn't feel the darkness creep up on her at that statement, and welcomed the old woman's touch with a content smile on her face.

"Now, tell Nanna what you've been up to the past two years." Marylean stood up and went to the basket to retrieve the flagon of wine before giving it to Nanna Margot and let her guard down, for the first time since her arrival.

She spoke as she walked around completing mundane tasks; sweeping, unpacking the basket of goods and lighting a candle she found under the table. She told Nanna about the Summer Isles, Lady Sand's whirlwind marriage with a wealthy old trader Barson Mayor who died a week following their union, leaving them with all his riches- a tragedy indeed. She had met Nanna Margot, an old kitchen maid, whilst working in The Red Keep.

Nanna knew they were running and hiding, but from who, she knew not and had never asked. Afterwards Marylean sat at the edge of the desk, basking in contended silence. Eddard Stark had been taken captive a few days ago and rumour had it that his son refused to bend the knee. She smirked at that, happy at the impending doom that hung over the Stark Lord's head.

Soon, very soon a Targaryen would sit on that throne once more. Nanna's gaze seemed to burn through Mary at that point and for a moment she was worried that the woman had seen her thoughts.

"It is curious how the high Lords are rising up against each other is it not, Nanna?" Marylean began once again. Nanna Margot was a wise woman and had told her many things since they'd met.

"Yes, it is, sunshine. The war has begun, with winter close at it's heels." Marylean was silent after that for a moment, remembering frightening tales told to her by Nanna of the last winter.

"Many a great man has sat upon that throne, Sunshine, only to be consumed by power. The time has come for a new dynasty to be forged, lest we survive the coming darkness," Nanna Margot said in a voice void of all emotion. Marylean blanched as fear suddenly gripped her. She knew that voice, knew what the glassy expression on the old woman's face meant and she didn't like the foreshadowing one bit.