It was supposed to be the most impressive castle in all of Westeros had dragons not melted the stone and rendered much of the castle incapable of use. In spite of this, Ned still found the enormous structure impressive. It spanned thrice the grounds of Winterfell, which he had only recently been acquainted with following his stay in the Vale. On the north shore the Gods Eye, the castle had an impressive wall and the tallest towers twisted their malformed shapes toward the sky. He had gone on a ride with his brother early in the morning to take a look at how beautiful and haunting Harrenhal was. Lord Whent opened his coffers to host a tourney on the grounds, but only a small part of the castle was habited as most of the monolithic towers were beyond repair as dragon fire had melted and malformed the structures beyond repair.

There were some redeeming qualities, as Lord Whent was wealthy and did take care of the parts of the castle that were accessible. He had been impressed by the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, which was large enough to entertain an army, two galleries looking down on the rest of the slate floored hall. Now the Flowstone Yard laid host to the tourney, an entire stadium erected of wood around the pitch for sword fighting, archery, and jousting. There had been few tourneys of its girth and like, meaning that most of Westeros and its nobility was in attendance to meet for this grandiose display of wealth and enjoyment. Harrenhal, even if uninhabitable in most parts, was the only castle large enough to host such a spectacular event.

But Eddard's mind was not only clouded with the bets of which knight may win or the excitement for what he may watch. In fact, as many enjoyed this spectacle, Ned thought it was an exuberant waste of money that could have been used on better resources. Harrenhal wasn't that far south, but it was enough that the idea of pissing coins away wasn't so shunned. He expected that the money it took to run this tourney was what it would cost to run Winterfell for more than a decade. No, that wasn't in the forefront of his mind, rather it was the conversation he had with his father before coming to the tourney.

"I've a letter from Jon Arryn," Rickard had waved the pale vellum in his hand, standing in his solar, his brows heavy and brooding. He was an imposing, tall man with a stern expression, a full beard, and long brown hair. It was odd to think of him as a father, as Jon Arryn had filled that space for so many years, but Eddard still respected and thought highly of his own father. Rickard and Jon Arryn were alike, but also so different. "Do you recall his daughter? You must have met her at least once during your stay in the Vale."

Eddard did not and had not. Jon Arryn had never made much mention of his daughter, though he and Robert had been aware she existed. They'd thought it strange that she never came to visit and believed it had something to do with her not wishing to be there. He had nodded to his father, suspecting where this went immediately.

"She is Lady Elyse and shall be traveling with the Tyrells to the tourney in Harrenhal. Originally, Lady Elyse was intended to marry Mace Tyrell, but the plans did not pan out. Instead, Mace has married Lady Alerie Hightower, and so Lady Elyse is returning home. Jon Arryn shall not be at the tourney and has requested that we either return Lady Elyse to the Eyrie or... I have suggested that she come to Winterfell for a time," Rickard explained, placing the letter down and staring openly at his son. "Lord Arryn is to remarry, however, he is uncertain if he will gain an heir. In which case, Lady Elyse is heir to the Vale until she marries. Lord Arryn states that he will put aside this marriage and give you the rights to the Vale, as you were raised as his son."

Eddard's mouth had gone dry, his palms sweaty at the thought of becoming the Warden of the East and the Lord of the Vale. He didn't want it. He had never wanted to be a lord. His brother Brandon was always destined for this. While the Starks were allies with the Arryns, he could see in his father's eyes the importance of doing this. Once Jon Arryn passed, the Starks would control the Vale, which bordered their lands, theoretically absorbing it into the North. New trade opportunities and networking could help rise prominence and gold income. As much as he didn't want any of it, he could not deny that he had loved the Vale and the people within it. It would be like returning to a lost home, since he had returned to Winterfell 3 years prior. And... it would become his by marriage. Most 2nd born sons would have drooled over such a prospect, especially since House Arryn was highly regarded and powerful.

It was expected of him.

Eddard knew to do his duty, but he loathed it. He agreed with his father, knowing that he would not only be letting Rickard down, but also Jon. Jon trusted Ned to be kind to his daughter, but Ned worried that the woman would be a nightmare, given that she never wanted to visit her father in the years that he had stayed in the Vale. Thus, his arrival at the tourney only marked the countdown for when he would meet his betrothed. Brandon had done nothing to help him, filling Ned's ears with how florid and dramatic the southron women were.

"I have little doubt she'll be comely, but living with the Tyrells most of her life? I can only imagine she'll be a nightmare and have exceptionally expensive tastes," Brandon told him after their morning ride to get a better look at Harrenhal. "Pretty flowers, with thorny tongues, but not much substance after that. But you will be made Warden of the East, so it's a fairer trade than any could hope for. Us together, ruling the North and East."

Ned pursed his lips at the thought, but did not discount his brother. Brandon was truly happy that Ned had been given such an opportunity, even if he did not feel the same as his brother. Dawn was still around them and as they rode in, his brother threw a haughty smile at him, gesticulating toward the verdant banners marked by golden roses; the Tyrells.

"She should be around here somewhere, right?" Brandon grinned.

Ned frowned at his brother's exuberance, but did spare a glance in the direction of the Tyrell banners and the carriage houses that lolled to a stop. Perhaps she was within one of the ornately gaudy wheelhouses, though he did not care to find out. "I'll need to be presentable," he told his brother gruffly, gesturing down to their riding clothes which were simply a leather jerkin and trousers. "I should wear something a bit nicer..."

"Right, and fix that hair of yours," Brandon pointed out.

The Starks had brought a throng of their own guard, consisting of many other Northern houses that had been keen on seeing the tourney. The Umbers, the Karstarks, the Boltons, and the Mormonts had accompanied them down the Kingsroad. Rather than using the quarters, they had ceded and brought their large tents to create a small encampment of northerners just outside of the Harrenhal grounds. Of course, they did go inside the fortress for meals, but it was easier for them all to mill in their own little town away from the unfamiliar southrons.

Benjen noticed them approaching and trotted up as they dismounted their horses. "Tullys arrived not too long ago," he told his eldest brother.

"Wonderful, I'll freshen up too and go visit Catelyn," Brandon noted, giving an appreciative nod to Benjen. "What is Lyanna doing?"

"Oh well, uh... Maybe, Ned should go see her-" Benjen puttered, glancing dolefully over.

Immediately, he wondered if Lyanna was getting herself into trouble or perhaps practicing sword in the confines of the camp. Either way, from Benjen's behavior he suspected it was something that could get her in trouble. "I'll go," he agreed, but dumped the reins of his horse in Benjen's hands.

Lyanna had her own small tent, though she had made it large enough to share it with the Tully daughters, as they expected Catelyn would come visit them to see Brandon. Politely, Ned cleared his throat loudly, hearing murmuring voices inside of the tent, after a brief moment Lyanna was at the entrance. Surprisingly, she was not in riding clothes or a semblance of attire for sword practice. In fact, she hovered near the front of the door in a slightly suspicious manner.

"Is there someone with you?" Ned inquired, trying to get a look over her head.

"No, not at all, just talking to myself," Lyanna answered swiftly, her blue eyes boring into his.

"Sounded like a conversation," he suggested, but his lips curved up, as he knew his sister couldn't be up to more mischief than usual. "Benjen suggested I come see you."

"Ah, of course!" she dragged him into the tent. On the floor was a grey wolf rug, a set of chairs sitting around a small tea table. The bed was set further back, a quilt of grey, silver, and blue folded over slightly from where Lyanna had neglected to make it. There even appeared to be remnant smallclothes crumpled beside it. An ironwood chest sat at the foot, containing her dresses and other valuables, which was unlocked, a bolt of blue fabric sticking out.

Lyanna turned, holding his hand in hers. "So, Lady Elyse..." she drawled, a devilish brightness in her pale eyes, so stark against her long dark brown tresses.

He sighed, turning his eyes away from his sister. She hadn't shown much excitement in the field of marriage before, even with Brandon, as she wasn't particularly fond of who she was betrothed to. Lyanna had made the point that even if Robert were infatuated with her, it would never keep him from straying from her bed. Growing up with the man indicated that this was right and upon numerous times, Robert had even tried to score Ned a night with women. "What of her?"

"I've heard some things about her," Lyanna arched a brow at him, sweeping over gracefully to one of the seats. On the table was a tea kettle and two sets of cups.

He frowned, the tea was still hot, swirls of mist piping from the tea. "Whose is that?"

Lyanna looked down, the smug expression fluctuating for just a moment. "Oh, yours of course. I knew you'd be back soon."

"It looks half drunk," he pointed out.

"Only half full, here-" she picked up the kettle and poured some for him.

Ned took a seat across from her, not completely convinced that this tea cup had been intended for him. Either way, he hadn't had breakfast yet, and picked up the cup, savoring the warmth it produced in the cool morning. Winter had all but faded, murmurs of the impending summer following the bout of warm weather. Still, mornings had a chill to them, the spring not yet chasing away winter's frost.

The flavor was mild and floral, gentle rosehips and lavender. It was not entirely unpleasant, but not the sharp, bitter flavor he was accustomed to. Tea was not a typical commodity in the North, as most of it was imported to Westeros. "Where did you get this?"

"Around. You know there are plenty of southrons here that have tea. It was a favor from a lady I met last night," Lyanna answered, enjoying her own cup which had almost been drained. "But, as I was saying before, Lady Elyse..." she gauged her brother's reaction before continuing. "She seems very interesting. I expect Brandon has been filling your ears with hogwash-"

"And your rumors are any more true than his own speculations?" Ned inquired, this time the one arching a brow. He set his tea cup down with a soft clatter. "I will do my duty, regardless of what kind of person Lady Elyse is."

Lyanna's nose pinched as she scowled at him and poured herself more tea. "I am quite aware, but don't you hope that you're compatible with her? Or that maybe you'll fall in love with her?"

"Of course I hope that, but it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Uhg," Lyanna stood up, placing her hands on the back of her chair, stretching her shoulders. "Well, from what I've heard, she seems like a very exciting person. Did you know the reason Mace Tyrell didn't want to marry her is because he was scared of her?"

That did interest Ned, he glanced up from his cup of tea and stared at his sister for a long moment. "Why?"

"Something about a hunting trip... Lady Elyse had insisted on joining the party, it was a stag hunt. Only, they weren't the only hunters on the grounds, as a shadowcat had ventured down the Mander from the mountains. Upon seeing it, Mace Tyrell was said to have turned the party around at a gallop; which, obviously, was a poor choice as you never show your back to a shadowcat. It leapt and dragged down Mace's horse by the rear, Lady Elyse fired an arrow, taking the cat in the shoulder. Mace was trapped beneath his horse as it fell under the shadowcat, which in spite of the arrow, had already set its eyes on its prey; the plump Mace Tyrell. It was said that Lady Elyse dismounted, took Mace Tyrell's sword, and drove the blade into its heart. The blood spurted out, coating both her and Mace. Supposedly, she had a look in her eyes that terrified Mace and he believed that one day it might be him on the receiving end of that sword. Lady Elyse was said to have skinned the shadowcat herself and made a cloak of it."

The excitement was keen in Lyanna's voice, the idea that there might be a lady who possessed some similarities with her, brightening her demeanor.

"The tale is a bit... exorbitant."

Lyanna narrowed her eyes at him. "I doubt all of it is true, as stories tend to be blown out of proportion, but if your betrothed saved you from a shadowcat, you'd think he'd be a bit more thankful."

"That depends all on what happened and what kind of wife Mace Tyrell wanted. Perhaps a coarse woman who can hold her own is not what he wished for, as many men in Westeros do not wish for-" he eyed his sister dubiously, hoping to drive a point. Still, he wondered if Lady Elyse had a shadowskin cloak that would indicate that she had been successful in her endeavor. At least, it might be a conversation starter if he could take anything away from what Lyanna had told him.

"You mean a boring wife," Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Ned, did you ever wonder why Lady Elyse never returned to the Vale?"

"I expected she did not wish to," he answered simply.

Lyanna snorted at him. "Or maybe Lord Arryn didn't wish for his daughter to be around him."

He felt his temper bristle at this, but Ned had always been better at controlling it than his sister and elder brother. Drawing a steady breath, he leveled his eyes at her. "Lord Arryn has suffered the misfortune of two wives passed and only one child surviving to adulthood. I doubt he would send his daughter away."

Lyanna cocked an arrogant smirk at him and shrugged. "Fine, I know you are loyal to Lord Arryn considering he raised you, but no one is perfect. Remember that... but I for one, am quite excited to become acquainted with your betrothed. From the words I've heard, she seems to be of the same feather as I."

"Gods forsake us all if there are two Lyanna Starks in Winterfell," Eddard groaned, but a smile tucked itself away on his face. There had been few things Lyanna was looking forward to, especially because the years until she wed were waning. Even if Ned didn't love his betrothed, at least Lyanna would have a friend who understood her.

"I shouldn't keep you. You really should freshen up and seek her out. I want to meet her officially!" Lyanna declared. "She'll sit with us for the tourney, no?"

"If she would prefer to, but she may feel more comfortable amongst the Tyrells," he reminded her simply. Finishing the tea he had been poured, he stood up and gave his sister a final look as he approached the entrance of the tent. "I rather hope Lady Elyse is how you describe rather than Brandon."

"We can place bets if you'd like," Lyanna offered mischievously.

"Confer with Brandon, I shall take no parts in bets over the disposition of my betrothed," Ned declined, leaving his sister on her own, wandering over toward his tent.

What would she be like? The droll, political southron who only cared about material things or a woman who wanted to be a man? Either one came with their own problems and issues, but for Lyanna's sake he truly hoped for the latter.

Inside the comfort of his own plain, neatly arranged tent, Eddard changed from his riding gear, washed quickly in a water basin, and replaced his attire with the typical northerner finery; a silver grey doublet with muted designs, dark trousers tucked into black leather boots, a sword belt, and a wolf pelt cloak. He fussed with his hair for a few moments in the mirror, thinking back to what his brother had said, wondering if it was still as messy as he thought.

"Pardon," a voice called from the front of the tent.

Deciding his hair would have to do for now, Eddard withdrew to the front of the tent to see who was standing there. A steward in the green and gold of House Tyrell stood before him, a sinewy man in an intricate doublet that put Ned's to shame, and gave the Northerner a rather impudent look, as if judging Ned by appearance alone.

"Greetings, my lord," the steward gave a polite, albeit stiff incline of his head, a hand upon his breast as he did so. "Lady Elyse has sent word that she is preparing to meet you. House Tyrell has settled not too far from here."

Ned nodded silently, following the steward away from the familiarity of the Northern banners and men. Rather than approaching Harrenhal's main gate, they instead circled around the mountainous walls where banners of golden roses flew, a large entourage of other houses dotting the landscape like a garden of southerners. Tents were still being erected and furniture lugged into the most marvelous tents.

He did not have to wonder long which among the crowd belonged to his betrothed, as the steward paused in front of an average sized tent made with pale blue tarp. Among the throng of gaily colored tents, was the falcon moon of House Arryn, a lone soldier.

What Ned saw next was probably the queerest thing he'd seen a steward do before. Pausing in front of the tent's entrance, the steward grabbed the hem of his doublet, slicked back his hair, and fixed the brooch upon his breast. He snapped up like a soldier to attention and announced himself to Elyse Arryn as if reporting to the commander of an army.

Fleeting seconds passed before the tent flap fluttered like the wings of a bird and a young woman stepped out. The steward stepped aside, ogling her with reverence, if not infatuation.

Standing before him was a slender lady with a narrow waist. She was drawn up in the Arryn colors, a pale blue dress that complimented her fair skin and long, loosely curled light brown hair. She had a gentle face, soft eyes as blue as her father's, and full pink lips that pouted naturally. In a moment, Eddard had forgotten his doubts and worry, as he stared into the eyes of a pretty face.

"A pleasure to meet you finally," Elyse greeted, giving him a delicately curtsy.

Having forgotten himself, Eddard forced a restrained smile, trying not to play the part of bumbling Northerner. He took her hand respectfully, which was small, but rough in his own palm. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady," he pressed her hand to his lips, as Brandon had drilled him on the night prior.

Elyse returned a delicate smile that did not reveal her teeth, her eyes sharp and perceptive, again like her father. He released her hand and she drew it toward her. "I am eager to become acquainted with you. My father thinks of you as a son, does he not?"

"I would believe so, given the years I spent in his care in the Vale. Perhaps just as Lady Tyrell thinks of you as a daughter."

Elyse gave another, tightlipped smile. "Ah, yes, I see then. Please, we do not have to stay here, I'd rather prefer a walk since we've been riding for some days now."

Eddard offered her an arm and they started away from the encampment, though he wasn't particularly certain in which direction. Harrenhal did have a lot to offer, so wandering aimlessly to have a conversation wouldn't be that dry.

"No troubles along the road, I hope?" he inquired, a poor attempt at continuing a meaningless conversation.

"Oh no, though a little may have been entertaining. I'm afraid our journey here was plagued by troubadours, minstrels, and copious amounts of wine," Elyse complained, noting true entertainment that most people would have enjoyed incessantly.

"Not much for the arts, then?" he smirked, slightly amused.

"I am, but not when I've heard 10 different renditions of The Rains of Castamere or some of the more bawdy songs like The Bear and the Maiden Fair. There are only so many times one can listen to those songs without reprieve before your appreciation for music is diluted. To be honest, I've been keen to get here and watch the tourney for a good change of pace."

"I must admit, I've never been fond of The Rains of Castamere, it's such a mournful song," Ned confided.

"And yet everyone acts as if it's the best ballad. Personally, if we're staying true to the mournful theme, The Dance of the Dragons is much better, though albeit longer and tedious to perform. I've only heard it done respectfully a few times while I was in King's Landing."

"I'm afraid I haven't had the luxury of hearing that before."

Elyse eyed him, but not in a disappointed or scathing manner, rather as if she regretted mentioning it. "If you're not fond of mournful songs, I wouldn't advise listening to the collection," she quickly backpedaled.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it. Given how large this tourney is, I wouldn't doubt at least one troupe of singers would feature it, seeing that the royal family is also supposed to be in attendance," he told her, tucking away a small smile.

Elyse relaxed slightly. "What do you think of the tourney? The stadium and spectacularness of it all?"

"I think it cost a lot of coin," Eddard remarked honestly.

The young woman snorted, trying to mask a chuckle as she did. "You'd hate to see how money flows like water further south. Though I am quite astonished by the work that went into this. I've been to my fair share of tourneys, but none quite this... extravagant."

"I would hate it?" he repeated. "For someone who was raised far south, you do not seem very keen on it yourself."

Elyse gave a lazy shrug, pinning him with a look he knew from his sister. The mischief was bright in her sky blue eyes, but there was still the underlying perceptiveness that he was beginning to believe was an Arryn trait. "As someone who has gained an aversion to opulence by having an excessive amount shoved down their throat, yes, you are correct in your assumption. Are you surprised by this?"

Ned remained silent, wondering how he could phrase this honestly but politely. His lack of an answer immediately came back to bite him.

"The Tyrells are a very esteemed family with nearly as much coin as the Lannisters. However, I was a ward, a guest, not a Tyrell myself. I was treated well and better clothed than most of Westeros, no doubt, but I did not inherit their wealth. I did get to bear witness to it, be it on a piece of impressive jewelry or a dress in the latest fashion. Have I wanted some of those things? I would be lying if I said no, there were times when I was jealous, but eventually I'd resolve to thinking that the coin could have been spent better otherwise. Eventually, I realized that coin may be able to buy the most beautiful objects, but it could not buy happiness."

"If you'll forgive me, I did not mean to offend you, it's just... There are certain rumors of southron ladies in comparison to Northerner ones," Eddard tried to explain.

Elyse nodded respectfully. "I have no doubt, just as there are rumors of Northmen being incredibly stoic and emotionless. Although, I don't find you to be half as bad of a walking companion as so many other lordlings preening their feathers to peacock in front of me. You're honest and polite, which is more than I can say of others."

Eddard chuckled at her, glad that they were talking, and that Elyse seemed to like him at that moment. She was not quite as bad as he had worried about, but he barely knew her. "I suppose peacocks would be rather boring for you when you bare a shadowskin cloak. Few dare to claim such a feat, especially a young lady, such as yourself, so far south."

"Ah, so you've heard the tale... Or at least an over glorified rendition of it," Elyse grimaced visibly before turning her eyes up toward him. "Which one did you hear? The one where I ripped its heart out after and ate it in front of Mace as he sobbed or the one where I shorn the head clean off with one swipe of the sword?"

"Neither quite so... macabre."

"Well, if you'd prefer to hear the true story, we could sit here and I could tell you," she gestured to their surroundings.

During their walk they had drawn up near the Godseye, away from the din of the camps surrounding the tourney stadium. Harrenhal was a behemoth shadow and they stood at its feet, by the stony shore of the lake.

Faceclaims for the characters

Eddard - Sam Claflin in Snow White and the Huntsman

Elyse - Natalie Portman in Attack of the Clones (given the blue eyes)

Lyanna - Hanna Mangan Lawrence in Spartacus Vengeance

Brandon - Eoin Macken in Merlin

Benjen - Max Irons in White Queen

Rickard - Clive Standen in The Vikings

Jon - Anthony Head in Merlin