No Games

Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto, nor Game of Thrones.
Rated M simply on account of it being Game of Thrones, obviously. 'A Game of Thrones fic without at least one M rated moment is considered a dull affair.'

"Speech"
'Thought'
[Foreign Language]

AN/ Hastily edited. It's way late. Gotta sleep.

Chapter 3: An (Unwanted) Honor

Previously…

In King's Landing to the south, the bells of the sept rang throughout the city, their tones resounding through streets and off walls.

The Hand of the King…was dead.

And Now…

Almost a full day's travel saw the Stark party returned from their grim duty.

On their arrival, Ned had dismissed himself to…recover…from the solemn mood he'd been drowning in since the execution.

Six little passengers in tow.

Robb, Jon, and Bran had all silently claimed their own, so it was that the remaining three pups were passed on to Sansa, Arya, and Rickon. Each direwolf pup took to a Stark like there was nothing more natural in the world. Even the eldest Starks, Robb and Jon, despite their maintained illusions of masculinity seemed to express soft spots for the little wards.

Bran and Rickon, being the youngest, were the most playful with their pups. Sansa was…rather girly…babying her wolf, almost. Arya's reaction was by far the most amusing, talking of how she would raise her pup into a mighty beast that she would ride into battle like the Targarians of old and their legendary dragons.

So it was that Naruto had taken the pups, and by association their new pseudo-family, the Stark children, to the kitchens. It had been a little tricky, at first, feeding the little ones. They were too young for meat, so it would have to be milk for the time being.

And there was the trick.

Back home, there were bottles for feeding babies. But not here. And so, he'd consulted Luwin. The old maester had been around long before him and had seen much. Like how you could raise dogs up from pups using a rag soaked in milk. Soak the rag in the milk, then let the pup suckle on the dripping rag. It wasn't the most efficient, but it worked, and they actually took to the method rather quickly given the ravenous hunger they demonstrated.

He'd milked two goats dry to provide enough fresh milk for the pups. From there, it was a combination of Luwin and himself that guided the Stark brood in feeding their future "partners."

Given the beginnings of needle-teeth though, he wagered they weren't long for a milk-diet. Soon enough, they'd be needing something…more substantial.

(Two Days After the Execution, and the Afternoon of the Return to Winterfell…)

In the Northwest corner of Winterfell was lingering proof of the old ways. A walled acre of trees, cordoned off, protected. The Godswood. A sanctuary from the world where those who worshipped the old ways could pay homage to the old gods, and at its heart…the Weirwood. An ancient species of tree, it was said to be a connection to the Old Gods, their eyes and ears in the world. Gnarled, old trees with white bark and blood red leaves, some of the older ones had faces carved into the bark, from which the sap would sometimes seep, eerily reminiscent of blood. There had once been a great many in Westeros…before the Andals came. When they did, they brough their religion, and its intolerances, with them. Over the years, they cut down the Weirwoods, wiping many out, supplanting the old ways with The Seven. But there were some Weirwoods that survived. Most in the North, and as rumor from the Night's Watch had it even more beyond The Wall.

And it was in Winterfell that one such ancient tree still dwelled.

A lone, bent tree surrounded by stones, looming over a small reflecting pool. A place where wardens of the North had come throughout the generations seeking answers or escape. Men like Eddard Stark, seeking to cleanse himself of the woes of recent days.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." A lesson…a duty…passed on by countless generations of Starks.

Passing sentence on others… Ned had never liked that particular duty. He understood it clearly, and fulfilled it, but he hated it nonetheless.

There were days when he thought longingly back to the simpler times of his youth. They were fewer than he'd have liked, what with Arys and the Rebellion, but there were moments…fleeting days…when he had been able to be a young man, free…freer…of such dark responsibilities. Like his time learning under Jon Aryn with Robert.

Memories that brought fond smiles.

But for the simpler delights of then, he'd trade none of his current joys to return to that time. His family…by the old gods he loved them so much. Each day with them was worth more than all the gold and glory in the world.

Now, he sat, reminiscing. The slow, gentle strokes of a stone across Ice, then an oiled cloth down the length of the blade, lulled him, calming his mind.

He almost missed the light footsteps across the leaf and moss-covered ground. The footsteps of his other half…and the ill tidings she brought with her.

(Winterfell, The Following Day…)

"King Robert will soon make his way North," he announced simply. Standing in front of the early-morning fire, Ned stared into the crackling flames. Not quite enough to cast warmth, once the logs caught that would change. For now, he just contemplated the flames beginning to caress the fresh faggot. (Educate yourself. It doesn't mean what you think it means. Another twisted and forgotten definition.) Turning to the men in the room, he laid out the plans for the days ahead. "In one month's time, the royal caravan will leave Kings Landing. They'll spend a month on the road before arriving here, two months from now."

These were the three men he trusted most in Winterfell. People who he trusted to act in his name and interest in the comings and goings of the North, and whose words held weight with him.

Ser Rodrick.

Maester Luwin.

And Naruto.

"The King?" Naruto asked first for them all.

Ned nodded, glancing down at the small scroll that'd been at the forefront of his mind ever since the previous day. "Yes. King Robert and the royal family." Looking to Rodrik, "See to the men. I want no weaknesses in our defenses while the King's wellbeing is in our care."

"My Lord."

To Luwin, "If there's anything missing from your stores, see that you get it."

Luwin nodded. "I'll see to it, Lord Stark. Fortunately, young Naruto has been keeping my pantry filled, but there are a few things I'll need to press for."

Nodding in assent, Ned looked from the aged Maester to the youngest in their company. "And, Naruto… The King will no doubt wish to hunt in his time here." The blonde teen nodded. "In the meantime, assist Luwin as needed. As the time of his arrival draws near, I'll need you to take out a hunting party. We will need fresh food for the welcoming feast."

"Understood, Lord Stark." All business, this talk. That said…as he sensed the mood shift, "So why is the king coming all the way here?" Luwin and Rodrik shared a glance, but it was easy to see that they both wished to ask the same, only delayed by the decorum of station. Naruto…had no such compunctions.

Sighing, Ned passed the small scroll to Luwin, who, in turn, passed it to Rodrik, which then travelled to Naruto. "Jon Arryn is dead."

And for the next two months, preparations were made. Slow at first, the pace accelerated every day. In the first month, Naruto's daily routine didn't change all that much. He would make his rounds, monitoring the wilder areas of the North. It took some doing, but he had managed to find all of the herbs and such on Luwin's 'Must Have' list.

A small chunk of time was spent with the Stark brood, helping them to raise their direwolf pups. The pups were still young and gaining strength, so their times was best spent with the young Starks, growing and bonding. He simply guided them as best he could.

(One Month Before Robert Is Expected…)

Seated in the inner garden, the blonde was surrounded almost fully by a circle of Starks and their direwolf pups.

"Alright, let's give this a go then," he announced. "'Feed them. Care for them. And, if they die, you will bury them.' That's what your father said. That was to say…you were responsible for them. Since then, you've been feeding them, looking after them. But do you understand the deeper meaning behind this?" He fixed a stern eye on them all, the humans anyway. "These pups aren't pets. Nor are they hunting dogs. From the moment you started taking care of them, they became your new brothers and sisters. Your family. Your partners. You take care of them, and they will take care of you. That's what a pack does."

Thank you, Kiba Inuzuka.

"Are you comparing us to dogs?" Sansa asked, mildly affronted. Her pup, sensing this, yipped.

"Not dogs, Sansa," Jon corrected, looking down at his pup, Ghost. "Direwolves. And the Starks have lived under the direwolf banner for generations, taking pride in the comparison." For someone not 'officially' a Stark, Jon was not ignorant to the history of his siblings' blood.

Robb nodded, leaning down to scratch his pup's chin. "Wolves…direwolves…are known for strength, nobility…and family."

Slightly abashed, Sansa could only look down at Summer, the pup looking back up at her in slight comfort.

"These pups're your pack mates. You take care of them now, and they'll return the favor," he reaffirmed. "But they are not pets. To one extent or another, they're warriors. Don't insult their pride by babying them. Wolves…direwolves…are group oriented. The strongest leads, and all protect the pack."

"Who's the leader?" Arya asked eagerly.

"Obvious, isn't it?" Robb countered, puffing up a tad.

Naruto rolled his eyes. A short, high grunt and all six pups climbed off their haunches and crossed the short distance to sit in front of him. "The pack leader is called the Alpha. Top dog. And, sorry, Robb, but it's not you."

Looking dumbfounded, the eldest Stark child could only gape in disbelief, both at the words and the implication of what he was seeing. "You?!"

"Wolf leadership's not decided by lineage, Robb, but by strength," Naruto informed them all. "They'll probably recognize that I defer to your father, but, for the most part… I'm the Alpha. In the leadership hierarchy, you lot'd be Betas, or, maybe…sub-Alphas, I guess. And the pups would be your Betas? Something like that."

"Why're you the Alpha?" Jon questioned, mostly curious. Not that their constant losses to him hadn't already cemented the fact that he was their superior in a fight.

Naruto tried not to smile too broadly, but it still reached his eyes. A flash of…something…reflecting in them. He grinned toothily…like a predator. "Call it an animal thing, but they can sense things better than people," he mused cryptically, giving nothing away. Grunting again, he sent the pups back. "Now, then…"

The pups were still…coddled…in a way. Some more, some less, depending on the Stark, but the blonde woodsman had taken to his role as teacher, nonetheless. The moment the pups were ready for meat, he had begun the tricky lessons in hunting. He was no Inuzuka. That said, he did have an innate advantage. He'd observed animals hunting and had experienced the more feral side of Kurama's chakra. Add in his own teamwork with his clones and he liked to think he did a good job with the younglings, instilling the necessary qualities of teamwork and tactics. Either that, or the pups were smart enough to take his harebrained example and figure it out on their own. He led the hunts, but the growing, lanky canines were already able to take down rabbits as a group.

It was a guessed week before the King's expected arrival…though he could really arrive any time…when news came their way. Naruto was trading a load of furs at a market in White Harbor, a few days travel…for him…from Winterfell, picking up more salt for their stores as well.

"You hear the rumors, young ser?" the tradesman asked conversationally, dropping the last of the small but heavy barrels of salt onto the back of the cart.

Leaning against the cart himself, Naruto glared lightly back. "You call me 'sir', again, Willem…and I just might punch you."

Willem, or 'Old Bill' as many called him, straightened his back. "You wouldn't," the old man scoffed.

Naruto grinned back at him. "Sure about that, old man?" Turning around, he shifted the barrels around, distributing the weight around on the cart. "I'm no ser."

"Aye, ye may've not been knighted," the old trader conceded. "But you've been good as and better to the small folk."

"It's no tall order to help others, Willem," he excused, deflecting. It wasn't just the occasional side of meat or orphaned wild sheep he'd pass along. Necessities, mostly. But he helped where he could. "Now quit buttering me up, Bill. What's the news?"

(A day and a half later…)

Walking the cart of supplies in, he passed it off to the kitchen staff to unload while he went to find Ned. Lately, he was easy enough to find. All the hubbub of the King's arrival had practically chained the Lord of the North inside his study. Going over reports of the preparations, ever persistent requests from The Wall and the people of The North, and calculating their own supplies towards the falling temperatures.

Knocking on the door, there was only a curt 'Enter' before he stepped in, finding the elder Stark exactly where he expected. Wearing a small smile, "Have you even got out of that chair since I left?" Naruto asked, closing it behind him.

Ned smiled in return, but there was clear fatigue behind his eyes. "Naruto. Good, you've returned. The supplies?"

"We're as salty as we can get," the teen replied. "Got enough casks to salt every boar from here to The Wall." Better to have and not need, as the saying went.

"Luwin's stores?"

"Full to bursting once I get his orders off the cart," he informed. "And I got another two crates of candles."

Altogether, that seemed to ease the tightness in Ned's features. It was, after all, another thing, that, now done, he didn't have to feel concern for. How he loved the days when he was just swamped…and not outright overwhelmed. Leaning back in his chair, "Well, that's good to hear. What game doesn't go to the King's welcoming feast needs to be salted and put up. The mornings are getting chillier by the day, so I'd like you to start building our stores."

The teen nodded. "On that topic."

"Hm?" Eyes having unfocused in thought, they now turned on the young man. "What is it?"

"Was talking to Old Bill just the other day," Naruto began, and Ned nodded. Lots of people knew Old Bill. He was a staple of the area. "Word from the South is that the King's caravan has been spotted."

Back stiffening, "Where?"

"Just north of the border. The Knotted Oak tavern as of a week ago."

Ned trusted Old Bill. The man wasn't known for tall tales. "At an even pace, that'd put them eight…" he rubbed his chin inn thought "No, nine days away. They'll undoubtedly stop short and prepare for their arrival the following afternoon," the Northern Lord mused, knowing full well every inch of his domain. They were well on-schedule in their preparations, but in the knowledge that all was to happen soon, he felt his nerves tense slightly in anticipation.

"We'll be ready, then," reaching up and massaging his brow. "…Thank you, Naruto."

"No problem, Ned." Lips twitching in a grin, "…So how does the Lady Stark feel about you giving that paperwork more attention than her?"

But Ned was prepared. "Do the boys know you're the one who put ivy leaves in their breeches?" All the while managing a straight face.

Naruto's eyes glittered as he snickered. "Oh, well played, Ned. Well played. But the jokes on you. Arya helped." The overall effect had been achieved though. By his own satisfied smirk, Ned seemed a little more relaxed by the small standoff.

(6 Days Later, Winterfell)

"Seriously. I'm the last person you want around nobles."

Theon smirked. "What? Embarrassed of your table manners?"

Naruto cast a tired eye on him as Tommy's shears came to a silent rest before shoving the Greyjoy, not harshly, just businesslike, off the stool. "For that, you get two sparring rounds back-to-back, squid boy." His gaze hardened. "No breaks." Theon paled, dreading the next training session. "Once upon a time, I was rather infamous for pissing off the nobility…just by being me. Back home, anyway." When a noble asked for the truth, they meant a truth they wanted to hear. Naruto…didn't have the patience to butter them up. He told the truth as he saw it.

And that was not how you ingratiated yourself to the highborn.

As the hour grew near, Ned had addressed the men and women of Winterfell. Now that the buildings and lands were as close as they could get to prepared, it was time to see to themselves. In the case of the young men…Robb, Jon, Theon, and Naruto…it meant seeing to their own tidiness. Which was what led to his current situation. The four were inside attending to finer grooming. Shaving, cutting, and in-depth, skin-scraping bathing.

Naruto missed bathhouses. He missed them a lot. People in this world weren't quite as up-to-date with hygiene.

Ignoring his friend's griping, Robb interrupted his mutterings. "Father wants us all clean and cut in preparation," he supplied. Sharing a look with his brother Snow, "Come on, Jon."

The two eldest Stark boys proceeded to strongarm the blonde woodsman into the chair.

But, before the shears even got close, they were intercepted, not by hand but words. "You cut my hair…and I cut you," he warned the man wielding the blades. Tommy looked about ready to press the issue, until he met the young man's eyes. There was no warmth there. "I don't need a trim yet, anyway." And, taking out a kunai from his ankle sheath, he started to shave the thin bristles popping up. He'd never really grown all that much facial hair. Genes? No clue.

No matter how much it feels like the future will never arrive, it does.

Ned's estimations proved accurate. On the ninth day after Naruto's update, early in the afternoon, the King's party made itself know. It was a long, slow parade that came into sight of Winterfell. Longer still before the bannermen at the front finally gave way to the royal guard, and, again, finally, the royal procession. So slow, in fact, it looked to take another hour for their sedate trot to bring them through the gates of Winterfell.

Even with the advance warning of their arrival, all of Winterfell was overtaken by a last-minute rush, this time as everyone ran to their stations in preparations to greet the royal family.

It wasn't the first royal caravan he'd ever seen. That in mind, it was just as long, slow, and full of ego as every other.

All that in mind, he'd made sure that he was far enough from the Stark's that he wouldn't be under any scrutiny.

…He was really not looking forward to any of this. His history with nobility was…mixed…with some exceptions. He was on fairly good terms with the northern lords, but had yet to meet any from the south, and tavern rumors…though mostly exaggeratory…tended to have a bit of truth to them.

The King's company would likely largely consist of Lannister and Baratheon bannermen, and a large guard, most heavily drawn from their two houses.

He frowned.

Based on descriptions…

He could probably get along with the Baratheons. Most likely, if the given traits he'd heard associated with them were true. He'd find that out soon enough.

It was the Lannisters that concerned him. Of the many rumors spread via merchant sailors at White Harbor and the occasional tavern, what stood out prevalently were things like 'rich' and 'privileged'. Old Bill was oft to mention that his finer furs would usually be ear-marked for transport to Lannisport. Talk was that Lannisters were the type to let their money do all the work for them. If all that was true, he'd try to avoid them like the plague.

Best not to stir the pot…though he usually failed just by existing. Not that he cared too much about himself. Shino once said he had the resilience of a cockroach. Naruto was sure that was supposed to be a compliment.

All the same… He didn't want to make trouble for Ned.

"Not lookin' forward to this," the teen snorted, not for the first time. Next to him, Ned and Luwin had taken a brief moment to join him on the parapet before joining those in the courtyard, checking the column's progress. For now, the bannermen were just beginning to disperse outside the gates, the front guard soon to begin marching in. In just a few minutes, the royal family would enter Winterfell's walls.

"All must be present for the King's arrival," Ned reminded, also not for the first time.

"You could lie," the teen reasoned. Ned glanced his way. He shrugged. "Just a small one. Say I'm infectious. That should even get Luwin out of this mess, too." Luwin said nothing, but the amused smile spoke volumes.

"Out of the question, I'm afraid," Ned contested. "The King will very likely want to hunt while he is here."

"Right, that," he grumbled.

"Indeed," Eddard confirmed. "I expect he'll want to go out as early as tomorrow. If not a day later." He liked to hedge his bets by having Naruto prepared. "And while I love Robert as a brother, he can be trying at times," Ned thought. "If I'm to suffer, so too must you." Sometimes, the boy tended to underestimate the darker side of Ned's sense of humor.

Finally, the royal coach, Robert in the lead on horseback approached the gates. "Come, let us greet the royal family."

Naruto died a little inside.

Ned said he had to be present.

He didn't say he had to be noticeable. While all of Winterfell was on display, he was decidedly in the back. But he could still see fairly well, and hear everything.

Standing behind a cart, a wonderful shield between him and the eyes of Winterfell's guests, he peered around the side to see the horses enter.

Two bannermen leading in silver armor and mail, bearing Baratheon flags. In their wake, denoting a slightly lesser position, were a pair of Lannister bannermen, black and gold armor, with red capes, the lion on their standards.

A scraping behind him in the cart and a familiar presence alerted him that someone was not where they should be.

Gaze flitting momentarily upward, he snorted. Arya had taken the liberty of amending her formalwear with a metal domed helm. Gods, there were days he figured she'd runaway to become a selsword or something

As much as he wanted to leave her be though… "Alright, Arya. Best you come on down from there, your mother's starting to look frantic."

"But, Naruto-"

"Come on, Lady Warrior of The North," he teased, raising his arm and offering his hand.

The slight chill to the air hid her blush well, as she took his hand and let him help her down from the height. Any other day, she would have jumped, but these accursed fancy clothes prevented it. Still though, it provided her with a boon, if a small, private one. Basking in the presence of her ideal.

"Arya!" they heard Catlyn hiss over the distance at her. Moment shattered, she bolted through the crowd, winding around the vassals of Winterfell until she reached her family.

Naruto managed not to laugh at Arya's expression when Ned snatched the helm off of her. She looked absolutely devastated.

Eyes on the procession, the courtyard was now ringed by the royal guard. Taking note of other obvious key individuals…Jamie Lannister and The Hound in front of and behind, respectively, a thin young man, barely halfway into his teens… So that was the prince. And he was sneering. Oh joy.

Right after, the royal carriage wheeled in, slowing to a halt in front of the Stark family. A handful of men following after, alongside a rather heavyset man in a burgundy-Everyone started to bow. Oh, that was the king. Well, he had heard that he wasn't very fit. Rodrik was heavily built, too, as was Hodor, but theirs was girth of strength. This man's, well, bulk was one of…excess.

Stories were that the man had been a big name in the war a decade plus ago. That he had been a different person then and just let himself go over the years.

Ned bowed, as did his family. It was the way of things. It was strictly as a matter of ceremony that he begrudgingly bowed. Not out of respect or subservience, he reasoned, but formality. That was about the only way he could manage to swallow the act.

The real reason he wasn't all that keen on being around for all this… If someone should demand he prostrate himself… Best not to think of that.

A stormy gaze marring what might've been a jovial face, the king rode to a stop in front of Ned. A breath later, looking over the gathered men and women, he gestured and a pair of paiges ran up, one taking the reins while the other placed a stool just beside the saddle. Despite his size and apparent lack of fitness, the man still twisted out of the saddle and onto the stepstool, bouncing down the steps, and striding dead on at the Stark's with unexpected vigor. Marching right up to Ned, he gave a small 'up' gesture, and Ned rose, followed after by all of Winterfell.

Ned bowed his head. "Your Grace."

"You've got fat."

The tension was thick as silence fell over the assemblage. That is until Ned gave a subtle if open appraisal of his friend. Of all the things for the man to say about someone else…

Naruto snickered inside.

The King burst into laughter, loud and hearty as he embraced Ned.

"Cat!"

"Your Grace!" she returned the small hug, but there was an evident hint of exasperation towards him and her husband's humor.

Reaching over and briefly tousling Rickon's hair, he turned back to Ned. "Nine years," he breathed. "Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the Hell've you been?"

Ned smiled warmly, "Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

Meanwhile, the coach doors opened. Just as surprising as its size… Out stepped three women in fairly bright garb; dresses of purple, green, and lavender. Handmaids. A pair of children… These would be the other royal children, each in fine clothes for cold weather in the South, so they were likely a little chilled. Ned said that there were three of them. The eldest, the snob on the horse, was…Jeffrey, was it? Something like that. So these would be… Right, Myrcella and Tomen. Well, they didn't look quite as prick-ish as the eldest. Time would tell.

As if to prove the infinite space within, another person still stepped out. This one was a woman in a red dress, and multiple overcoats trailing around her. Her hair was the trademark Lannister blonde, and, like her face, was clearly doted upon. That was definitely the Queen. And that was also where the snobby looking prince got his sneer from, given the small wrinkle of disapproval on the edges of her features. She'd almost be beautiful if not for that underlying sense of contempt towards…well, everyone else.

Naruto sighed. If he made it through this without getting into any fights, it would be a miracle.

Ned owed him big for this shit.

(The Crypts, Deep Beneath Winterfell)

The two men walked in silence, bathed in flickering torchlight. Winterfell was constructed of stone blocks and mortar, but the crypts had been laboriously carved into the rocky earth…to ensure the rest of its caretakers. A series of tunnels lined by statues of those that slept there. And as they walked, the deeper they went, more and more stone gazes did they pass under.

"Tell me about Jon Arryn," Ned asked. Now that they were away from the pomp and circumstance of the royal parade, they were not two noblemen, instead two old friends…near brothers. So, formality was allowed to fall to the wayside. And this was a topic of some concern to Ned. Jon had, after all, been like a father to them both, taking two unruly young noble lads, refining them, for the most part, and making them into men.

Robert cast a side glance his way. Sighing, "One minute he was fine, and then…" He shook his head, "Burned right through him, whatever it was." Jon's death had left a flavor of bile in the back of his throat. "I loved that man."

"We both did," Ned reminded.

Robert scoffed lightly. "He never had to teach you much," he countered. "But me? You remember me at sixteen?" The pair chuckled together. "All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. He showed me what was what."

"Aye," Ned breathed wistfully, but Robert still caught it.

Giving Ned his full attention, "Don't look at me like that. It's not his fault I didn't listen." Again, they shared a short laugh. Until Robert increased his pace by a fraction and wheeled to stop, barring Ned's path from going any further. This was something that needed saying now, before they could go any further. "I need you, Ned."

Ned felt a leaden weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Down at King's Landing. Not up here where you're no damn use to anybody."

He forgave Robert that barb, but he felt a trifle insulted by that remark. The North was his home and he gave all that he could to it, protecting it and seeing to the welfare of its people. But, again, for their history and friendship, he let it go.

"Lord Eddard Stark… I would name you Hand of the King."

Bloody Hell. Ned had expected it. He'd hoped to the Old Gods that he was wrong, but he expected it nonetheless. Unable to form a response, he dropped to a knee. "I am not worthy of the honor." Nor did he really want it. But if Robert pressed…

"I'm not trying to honor you," Robert informed bluntly. "I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom…while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave." What had been serious and fallen into smug amusement at the tail end. "Damn it, Ned, stand up," he grumbled, taking his friend by the arm and pulling him back to his feet. Formality aside, he wanted him there as a trusted friend, not as a vassal of the king. "You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing."

Still overcome by the moment, Ned's breathing had turned harsh, but he calmed himself as much as he was able.

"We were meant to rule together," Robert continued. Eyes turning sad, "If your sister had lived, we'd have been bound by blood." Nodding, "Well, it's not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter. We'll join our houses."

Ned's heart leapt into his throat. First, Hand of the King, and now the proposal of marriage between their children? This was becoming exhausting. It was a surprising move, but not…unwanted. He and Robert were as family, always had been. He would be proud for their family to be bonded together by something stronger.

Robert looked like less a man of power and more a man under an unbearable weight. Staring up at the statue, a depiction of one Leanna Stark…Ned's sister, Robert's dead love. This was not his first time to see her, but even after all these years, the pain never ebbed. From within his cloak, he produced a leather pouch, and, untying the strings, produced a simple feather. A small reminder of happier times. Placing it in the hand of the statue, he looked on almost brokenly, eyes watering around the edges.

"Did you have to bury her in a place like this?" he asked, heart hollow.

In the dark?

Melt dripping through cracks, dripping all around.

"She should be on a hill somewhere. With the sun and the couds above her," words choking passed his lips.

Ned bowed his head wearily. "She was my sister. This is where she belongs."

In a moment of raw painful emotion, Robert countered, "She belonged with me." Reaching up, he caressed the statue, imagining…trying his hardest…to remember what the warm flesh of the real thing had felt like. He exhaled raggedly. "In my dreams…I kill him every night."

"It's done, Your Grace," Ned tried to placate. "The Targaryens are gone."

Robert's hand fell from the cold stone, the rage in his heart turning just as cold. "…Not all of them."

AN/ Still struggling to find the time and energy to write. Whenever I feel like it, the computer or pad aren't around or I just can't male the time. Or, I'm just too wiped out from work.