Chapter 4: All Hail, Hadrian's Father!


Winterfell was a myriad of Ned's people falling over one another in order to prepare his castle for the arrival of the Royal Family. He had the cooks check everything twice to be sure there was enough for the royal entourage to feast upon for as long as they stayed. Wine bottles and mead kegs were tapped in preparation for the many drinks Robert would no doubt inhale himself, let alone the ones in preparation for the feasts to come. Maids and servants cleaned the rooms to see them sparling while blacksmiths and carpenters crafted and repaired feasting wares. People made sure their finest clothes were ready for the royal party that would soon arrive.

Ned himself was not among any of that at the moment. For right now he was with his lady-wife, Catelyn, as they both went in search of the second son, Bran.

And when Cat found him, she'd have his hide and Harry's hide too for all this trouble.

Staring up at the rooftops, Ned heard Catelyn swear to the Others when they finally spotted Harry and Bran sitting at the peak of one of the tallest towers. He had to steady her as she became weak at the thought their son might fall at any moment.

Ned simply kept the smile on his face from her view before she had his hide as well…

From where they stood, Ned could make up the fact that Harry and Bran seemed to be having a discussion of some sort. If he could climb even half as well as his son and nephew, Ned thought he'd like to join them on some of their private talks where on the wind could hear what was said.

Watching them more closely, the Lord of Winterfell noticed how Bran stood suddenly and began pointing off into the distance. He had started to jump up and down, and Ned had to steady Cat again for she grew faint once more. Harry snatched Bran before he could even jump twice and made him sit with what looked like a stern expression and sterner words. Bran looked apologetic, so Harry's expression softened. The two shared a small conversation before Harry seemed to bid Bran climb down. Cat breathed a sigh of relief at that, but then her breath was stolen when Harry jumped halfway down and landed on a perch before jumping again in a nearby carriage of hay. Luckily for his lady-wife, Bran climbed down with the utmost care, especially once he noticed that they, his parents, stood at the foot of the tower he was descending from.

"Bran Stark," his mother started, while Ned carefully made his expression stern, "You know you shouldn't climb the tower!"

Bran looked down at his feet and scuffed his boot on the ground.

"Sorry mother," he said guiltily.

Harry hid his smile as he came up to them. He opened his arms for a hug from his aunt, but Cat's expression was as cold as winter, making Harry's arms fall limp to his sides. "And your encouragements are not needed, Your Highness. I do not mind the way you tutor him with a bow or sword, but this is another matter entirely."

Harry shook his head, seeing that his aunt was being formal at the moment. Ned wanted to say something so Cat would see that Harry was just as much family as their own children, but saw that Harry could and would play her game at the moment. "I must inform you, Lady Stark, of how wrong you are. Ser Barristan Selmy himself taught me how to climb. He used the very skill himself when he rescued King Aerys the Second in the Defiance of Duskendale. He scaled the walls like a cat in the middle of the night in order to take back the Mad King."

Catelyn obviously did not recall the event, but Ned could hardly blame her. They had barely been teenagers then, and much had happened in the realm where she was, at the time, still a young lady of Riverrun with her father, brothers, and sister.

"Climbing is a good skill to have. One that not many knights or lords can boast." Harry placed a hand on Bran's head and ruffled his hair with a smile. "Bran may one day have to rescue me from a place like Duskendale. Or save himself, more likely. Gods be good, he'll just use it to impress some girls when he's a bit older."

Bran's face was red, and Ned suppressed a chuckle of his own when his lady finally allowed a smile to grace her beautiful face.

"If it is the will of the crown prince, heir to the Seven Kingdoms… Then I suppose I can let it continue… in utmost safety." Her eyes sharpened on Harry, "I know you'll both do it again. I can't seem to stop it. Just keep him safe, Harry. That's all I ask."

"I will so long as he climbs under my watchful eye." Harry consented, then straightened up. "Now there are more pressing matters. My king-father and his royal party approaches. They should be here in a few hours. Bran saw them on the horizon flying the banners."

Ned swore under his breath, and swept away with his wife. Harry had a grin on his face as they departed. It probably amused him that his father could sneak up on the Lord of Winterfell half as easily as he could.


After a couple of hours making sure this was ready and taking an iron helm off his little Arya's head, Ned stood beside his lady-wife and Harry stood in front of the rest of the Winterfell host ready to greet the king's court. Ned's courtyard was a quiet place as everyone hurried into their designated places. When the shout came from the gate that Robert was approaching, Ned felt more than saw everyone including himself stand straighter. With Ice at his back and Lily at Harry's hip, Ned felt more secure than he wanted to say with all the approaching Lannisters.

Harry sighed once and stepped in front of Ned. He made no moves of disapproval. As crown prince, it was Harry's duty to greet his father before the Lord of Winterfell. Ned offered his nephew a supporting hand on the shoulder, and Harry gave back a small smile before readying himself to greet his father.

The sudden thunderous noise of hooves brought the courtyard to a hush, as the Royal contingent rode in. The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannermen and knights, of sworn swords and free-riders. Over their heads a dozen golden banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon.

Ned knew many of the riders. There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and there rode Sandor Clegane in full black armor, and a dog-shaped helm clasped to his saddle as he displayed his terrible burned face. The tall boy beside him was the second prince, and that stunted little man behind them was surely the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. Ned noticed how Prince Joffrey looked at his eldest daughter, Sansa, who blushed ever so slightly. He also caught sight of the dour look his eldest son, Robb, gave their small interaction. Honestly, compared to the strong resemblance that Harry shared with Robert, Prince Joffrey looked more like Ser Jamie than anyone else.

The remaining riders took position in the courtyard, while the Royal Carriage stopped in the center. Behind the carriage road the most powerful man in Westeros. Flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard, Robert rode in just as tall and powerful as Ned remembered him on the Trident. He was fatter, surely, but with black hair that fell freely down to his shoulders, a face covered with a neatly trimmed beard that was speckled with grey, and his stern kingly expression, Ned felt that he knew this man better than he would have if not for Harry being born almost eighteen years ago. Strangely enough, however, Ned took in the appearance of a sword strapped at Robert's side, which left him bewildered, considering Robert had favored a warhammer for as far back as Ned could think on it.

Robert vaulted off the back of his warhorse with a familiar roar. As he did, everyone of Winterfell knelt, paying homage to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The only one left standing was Harry, who smiled heartily at the sight of his father. His smile soon turned into a wince, because when Robert reached him, he grabbed his son in a bone-crunching hug. "Harry, my boy! Ah, but it is good to see that little shit face of yours." The king looked him over top to bottom, and laughed. "You've gotten taller still. Seven hells, stop growing on me, boy. Not even married yet, and damn near looking your king and father—me, of all people—eye to eye! If I had my hammer here with me…"

"Peace, father! Peace!" Harry laughed before gesturing and moving to stand at his father's side, "Father, the whole of Winterfell kneels to your arrival. They have prepared feast and drink in eager for you to grace their halls."

"Still good with your honeyed words, boy. Haven't changed at all."

Robert then approached Ned, gesturing silently for Ned to rise. Seeing the hand, Ned rose, and as he did, so too did the rest of his people follow.

Ned bowed his head slightly, "Your Grace."

Robert silently regarded him for a long while. Ned took this time to study his best friend and marriage brother more closely still. Six and a half feet tall, Robert Baratheon towered over lesser men, and Ned recalled the days of when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He'd had a giant's strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift last he saw it. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.

"You got fat," Robert stated flatly. Ned was jarred out of his observations by that.

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. Ned would not allow himself to be seen shocked by Robert's bluntness. He instead gave obvious regard to belly that was protruding from Robert's tunic with a sharply raised eyebrow. A brief moment later, they both laughed while Harry grinned behind them.

Ned's laugh was cut short by him being caught unawares as he was captured in a bone-crunching hug. "Ned! Ah, it is good to see that frozen face of yours. A whole year since we've last seen each other! Others take the time, brother! Catelyn, come here woman!"

Robert embraced Catelyn like a long-lost sister. Then the children as if they were his own.

"And where's that bastard of yours? Jon, blasted boy, get here in front of me!" Robert boomed, smile wide on his face, "Let me have a look at you! Greyjoy, you too!"

Robert shook their hands before engulfing them both like his own sons.

"Seven blessings, you're all as frozen as Ned! You'll be drinking wine with me until warm and I can stand the thought of touching you!"

Robert then turned to face Ned again, his face ruddy with all the excitement he was causing himself. His tired eyes, which had black circles under them, were now dancing with life, "Where have you been, Ned? No ravens or visits this last year. I had your word I'd hear more of you than that."

"I've been busy guarding the North, Your Grace," Ned replied, "Winterfell, as always, is yours."

"Seven hells to that, Ned. Children, talk sense to your father. Come here so I can have a better look at all of you. Don't scurry away from me as soon as I turn my back!"

Whilst Robert was inspecting his children more critically, Ned focused his attention on Robert's own family; the Lannisters that came to Winterfell. He did not think he could stomach if Tywin had entered his lands, but the Old Gods were good to him for that was not the case.

Disembarking the carriage were young Myrcella and even younger Tommen, Harry's half-siblings. Prince Tommen was a chubby boy with longer than average blond hair that ran to his ears, and the typical Lannister green eyes, a duller shade than Harry's own vibrant emerald which the crown prince got strongly from both sides of his grandparental family. Princess Myrcella, however, was a near mirror image of Cersei when the queen was younger.

And Prince Joffrey, heir to Harry until Harry had children of his own, took mostly after Ser Jaime, with golden blond hair and Lannister green eyes. The prince had yet to dismount his horse, rather preferring to gaze around Winterfell with a slight sneer on his face. Ned felt his pride for the North well up inside him, but he knew the boy was clueless to the Northern way of keeping castles as more storage space for harsher times rather than fanfare and decoration like lords of the South did.

Finally, Queen Cersei Lannister disembarked from her royal carriage with a carefully crafted expression on her face, looking around before she approached Harry, Ned himself, and Catelyn.

Cersei offered her left hand for Eddard, because he would probably never be Ned to her as she was the second wife to their king—their Robert. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, while uttering a quiet, "my Queen". Catelyn curtsied alongside him, "my Queen".

Harry was next as Ned watched him lightly grasp the Queen's hand, landing a ghost of a kiss on her ring. "Queen Cersei," Harry had said without any of the warmth he had greeted the others with. Ned could understand, though. She was the woman his father had to replace his mother and Ned's own sister. She would never be Harry's true queen, Lyanna would always hold that place in his heart. However, his nephew was not disrespectful when hanging on courtesy, and so still gave Queen Cersei her due in the fact that she was his step-mother. "A pleasure to see you once again. You look as radiant as ever."

"I'm sure I do, Prince Hadrian. Every time we meet, you look more a handsome man than the last, just as Prince Rhaegar did." Ned saw Harry's jaw tighten at that, his hand still clasping the queen's own. Cersei's smile grew, "Hopefully war and death wouldn't steal you away from the realm as it did the last crown prince."

Ned watched Harry's expression turn annoyed as he squeezed Cersei's hand painfully without effort. The woman yelped in surprise and pain, but could not get her hand free when she tried.

"And hopefully death wouldn't steal you away as it did my queen-mother and Queen Rhaella before their rightful time. You do remember my mother, right? As my father's first wife and the last queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you should. You may want to be careful, Queen Cersei, after all those are two examples we wouldn't want you to follow." At last, Harry released her hand, and the queen glared at him hatefully whilst nursing her injured appendage. Ned could only sigh. The queen and Harry hating each other was as common and well known as the Seven Kingdoms themselves. Though everyone knew it was more hate upon the queen's side as Harry was a constant reminder that she a second wife to Robert, and annoyance on Harry's part because he had to put up with Cersei's near-constant attitude toward him.

Harry then brushed past Cersei to greet his half-siblings. He hugged Tommen and Myrcella to him tight and spun them around as they giggled with glee.

Then he dragged Joffrey off his high horse and tussled his hair brotherly in front of everyone with a hearty laugh. Joffrey didn't like that, especially when everyone else started laughing along as Harry slapped him on the back a little to roughly after telling him to grow up and be a real man. Joffrey threw back that he was a prince, and Harry replied with a deadpan look. Joffrey's face grew enflamed, but Harry thrust out a hand, and told his younger brother—quite sternly—to clasp his hand like a real man. The two shook hands, and Joffrey only winced and whimpered a little as the two got into a contest of strength that Ned knew with certainly Harry was winning almost effortlessly. With that done, Harry pulled Joffrey forward and embraced his brother in a half-hug. Joffrey grumbled about it, a sour expression on his face as he half-heartedly patted Harry's back, but Ned hoped the young prince understood what Harry was trying to do for him.

No sooner had those two princes separated from their greeting than the king had said to his host, "Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects. Hadrian, you come as well and respect your mother with me in my presence. Now, boy!"

Ned loved Robert for that, if only because it got them away from the Lannisters. He sent a silent look toward his wife, who sighed as she took up the pleasantries with the queen. Cat was amazing sometimes, simply gods-sent. Ned called for a lantern. No other words were needed.

The queen had begun to protest. They had been riding since dawn, she said loudly for all to hear her voice. Everyone was tired and cold, surely they should refresh themselves first. The dead would wait. She had said no more than that; Robert had looked at her, and her twin brother Jaime had taken her quietly by the arm, and she had said no more. Perhaps she was right, but only if Robert had not loved Lyanna as much as Ned himself knew the man did. Still, if that were the case, it would have been seen as good relations to make the trip to the crypts early and get it out of the way. It would please lesser lords in the South, but Ned would not have faulted a king if he decided it tedious enough to do so early.

That was, if Robert hadn't loved Lyanna even half as much as they all knew he did.

Even to this day.


They went down to the crypt, Ned and Robert together while Harry followed them like a shadow. The winding stone steps were narrow as Ned went first with the lantern.

"I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell," Robert complained as they descended. "In the south, the way they talk about my Seven Kingdoms, a man forgets that your part is as big as the other six combined."

"I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?" Ned asked, but heard Robert snort.

"Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I've never seen such a vast emptiness. Where are all your people, Ned?"

"Likely they were too shy to come out," Harry jested.

Ned could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth. "Kings are a rare sight in the north."

Robert snorted again. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!"

"Late summer snows are common enough," Ned said. "I hope they did not trouble you. They are usually mild."

"The Others take your mild snows," Robert swore with a shiver. "What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think."

"The winters are hard," Ned admitted. "But the Starks will endure. We always have."

"You need to come south more," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. In Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see. The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth! Melons they have, Ned! And peaches and fireplums, you've never tasted such sweetness. You'll see soon enough, I brought you some."

"Even in Dragonstone, uncle," Harry said with a lick of his lips, "with that good wind off the bay, some days are so hot under the volcanoes you can barely move."

"And you ought to see the towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." Robert laughed and slapped his own wine belly a thump.

"And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed again, his eyes sparkling. "I swear; women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it's too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver for some, and cotton if not. But it's all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked." The king laughed happily and so did Harry.

Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. That was not a charge anyone could lay at the door of Eddard Stark. Yet Ned could not help but notice that those pleasures were now taking a toll on the king. Robert was breathing harder by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, his face red in the lantern light as they stepped out into the darkness of the crypt.

"Your Grace," Ned said respectfully. He swept the lantern in a wide semicircle. Shadows moved and lurched. Flickering light touched the stones underfoot and brushed against a long procession of granite pillars that marched ahead, two by two, into the dark. Between the pillars, the dead sat on their stone thrones against the walls, backs against the sepulchres that contained their mortal remains. "She is down at the end, with Father and Brandon."

He led the way between the pillars and the two royals followed wordlessly, Robert shivering in the subterranean chill. It was always cold down here. Their footsteps rang off the stones and echoed in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The Lords of Winterfell watched them pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that sealed the tombs. In long rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into eternal darkness, while great stone direwolves curled round their feet. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by. By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone.

Harry had once asked if their swords should be replaced, but Ned always took it as a sign that they were relieved of their earthly duties and allowed into the peace of the afterlife. Harry had snorted with laughter back then as a little boy-prince, claiming that death was nothing but the next great adventure. Ned wondered if that meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle.

He hoped not.

Ned stopped at last and lifted the oil lantern. The crypt continued on into darkness ahead of them, but beyond this point the tombs were empty and unsealed; black holes waiting for their dead, waiting for him and his children.

He did not like to think on that.

"Here," he told his king. Robert nodded silently, knelt, and bowed his head. Harry mirrored him as he did the day after he had arrived in Winterfell.

There were three tombs, side by side. Lord Rickard Stark, Ned's father, had a long, stern face. The stonemason had known him well. He sat with quiet dignity, stone fingers holding tight to the sword across his lap, but in life all swords had failed him.

In two smaller sepulchers on either side were his children.

Brandon had been twenty when he died, strangled by order of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen only a few short days before he was to wed Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. His father had been forced to watch him die. He was the true heir, the eldest, born to rule.

Lyanna had only been nineteen, barely even a woman fully grown with all her surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart.

Robert had loved her even more. She had been his bride short of four years.

Harry had loved her best and brightest of all. She had been his mother for the first three years of his life.

"She was more beautiful than this," the king said after a silence. His eyes lingered on Lyanna's face, as if he could will her back to life.

Finally, he rose. "Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this?" His voice was hoarse with remembered grief. "She deserved more than darkness…"

"She was a Stark of Winterfell, Your Grace." Ned said quietly. "This is her place."

"She should be on a hill somewhere!" Robert roared as old wounds bled anew, "Under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean!"

"I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king, his voice quiet but his tone firm. Robert deflated at the reminder. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father."

He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his hand as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Harry had cried for days on end, he was told later. Ned could recall none of it.

"I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was… fond of flowers. You remember."

"Aye, I do…" the king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. "I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her."

"You did," Ned reminded him.

"Only once," Robert spat bitterly. "In my dreams, I kill him every night," Robert admitted.

"A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves." Harry sneered as he rose to his feet, and there was nothing Ned could say to that.


After a quiet, Eddard found his voice again, "We should return, Your Grace. Your wife will be waiting."

"The Others take my wife," Robert muttered sourly, but he started back the way they had come, his footsteps falling heavily. "And if I hear 'Your Grace' one more time, I'll have to knock your teeth in. We are more to each other than king and lord of this and that. You are my brother, Ned. More than blood and marriage bond could ever tell."

"I had not forgotten," Ned replied quietly. When the king did not answer, he said, "Tell me about Jon."

Robert shook his head. "I have never seen a man sicken so quickly. We gave a tourney on Joffrey's name day. If you had seen Jon then, you would have sworn he would live forever. A fortnight later he was dead. The sickness was like a fire in his gut. It burned right through him."

Harry had told Ned just as much, but had shared with him a plot of poisons. Of course, Harry was only now reaching the prime of his youth. He was young and knew nothing of what old age hindered when sickness took hold of a man. Thankfully, Jon had not suffered.

Robert paused beside a pillar, before the tomb of a long-dead Stark.

"I loved that old man."

"We all did, Robert." Ned paused a moment, hoping that the sorrow he felt didn't color his voice.

"Aye, but he never had to teach you two whelps much, did he? Me though, do you remember me at sixteen, Ned?" Robert asked, chuckling to himself from memories passed, "All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls."

"Has that changed any, father?" Harry asked the king sardonically.

"Not one bit, boy! If Lyanna were here though, I think she'd have taken my cock and balls with her everywhere she went to ensure I'd have no bastards. Ha! And I'd have let her!" Robert boomed, but then stopped and his face turned serious.

"Jon wanted to tell me something…" Robert continued quietly, his expression grave, "Something he thought was important. The fool that I was, I said it could wait till I returned from the hunt. Never again… never again. When I returned, Jon was bedridden with a fever, and half-delirious… He left a note with Ser Barristan Semly, but I never made time to see it, and Barristan just stands there like the perfect knight he is waiting for me to ask about it. Jon kept mumbling that the seed was strong, whatever that meant. Not two weeks later, he died in his sleep. Half me thinks someone had it in for the old falcon…"

"Are you implying, father… That Jon Arryn was poisoned?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes and a drawn up expression. Harry had thought the same, even told Ned as much, but probably didn't think Robert would share his opinion. Ned could certainly see it, but thought it very unlikely. The part of him that did believe it, however, thought about the Lannister family the king married into. After all, Robert had put himself in a circle with the likes of Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane. There was bound to be foul play in Jon's passing because of the sudden nature of it if Ned was to believe and take serious focus on such a plot.

"I've no mind for figuring these things out, lad, but Varys had some words about the idea. Even Renly and Stannis were curious to why Grand Maester Pycelle sent Maester Colemon away when the man could have been of help in keeping the old man alive. Varys has more to say about it all, but he assured me it could wait until I returned to King's Landing."

Harry nodded once with solidarity. He was thinking, this Ned knew from the expression on his face.

Robert's gaze sharpened on Harry, and he looked as he did when they rode out for the Trident, "Hadrian, your wedding will keep you at the capital for a while, but tell me… If the Lannisters make even a whisper for my throne, how loyal are the men at Dragonstone?"

"They are loyal beyond question, father. Ser Seaworth has served well in my absence and writes to me every so often on the affairs of the island." Harry assured, standing straighter than before.

"Good." Robert nodded, "If things come to the worst, you'll have loyal men marching behind you. Ned and his family are kin, so they won't rise against you. And I'm sure Cat's family in the Riverlands will support you. Not to mention my brothers in their lands, the Vale loves you, and you're about to make marriage ties with the Reach, so you won't want for allies."

"You speak as if civil war is upon us." Ned said quietly, but he could understand the need to access the situation for if worst came to pass.

Winter is coming…

Robert snorted, however, waving Ned off. "I wouldn't be surprised, Ned. No… Not at all surprised… My gods-damned second wife is constantly trying to push more of the yellow-haired Lannister shits into key positions at court, and she even had the gall to suggest making Joffrey my heir instead of Hadrian because Lyanna was never the stylized queen. I nearly knocked her teeth in, but Jaime was there and ushered her out before I could move around my desk. That woman… Others take her… I didn't fight and win a war only to see the kingdoms fall into another bloodbath not even twenty years afterwards because of her and her damn family. I like war, Ned, but I know when peace needs stay!"

Ned felt a change of subject would stop Robert from turning so red with the thoughts of his Lannister wife.

"Catelyn fears for her sister. How does Lysa bear her grief?" He had heard from Harry, but maybe Robert had more recent news.

Robert's mouth gave a bitter twist. "Not well, in truth," he admitted. "I think losing Jon has driven the woman mad, Ned. She has taken the boy back to the Eyrie. Against my wishes. I had hoped to foster him with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock. Jon had no brothers, no other sons. Was I supposed to leave him to be raised by women?"

"I would sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Lord Tywin," Ned said in a deadpan tone.

"Aye, and the child would turn out loads better still, but the boy is six and sickly. Lord Tywin has experience dealing with… that sort."

"Ah, there it is." Harry said, and appeared to be joining their conversation in truth, "You thought because Lord Tywin Lannister raised Tyrion so well to be… well, in truth, like you… that he'd do better with little Robert."

Robert only grunted in affirmation with that look in his eyes when he wanted a skin of wine.

"She has reason to grieve. Jon loved her much, and their son even better. Perhaps she feared losing her son as well. The boy is still very young. The fresh air of the Vale will do them both some good."

"Six, and sickly, and Lord of the Eyrie, gods have mercy," the king swore. "Lord Tywin had never taken a ward before. Lysa ought to have been honored."

"And yet it was a much greater dishonor you gave to her." Harry snipped, but Robert only glared at him for a fleeting moment.

"The Lannisters are a great and noble House. She refused to even hear of it. Then she left in the dead of night, without so much as a by-your-leave. Cersei was furious."

"I'm furious that you even believed it was a good idea!" Harry exclaimed with his father's brand of anger. "I will write to the Vale myself… tonight… Lord Royce will watch over little Robert with his mother's presence in the Eyrie. The visiting lords can tutor him."

"You'd do better going yourself, boy." Robert said, "The lords of the Vale are all hunger to curry favor with the boy."

Harry nodded, "Maybe, but they all loved Jon Arryn even as he ruled from King's Landing. After a time, I will inspect the Vale again myself, and oversee young Robert until my attention is needed elsewhere."

Robert only waved his hand dismissively, the black circles under his eyes looking heavier. "See it done then, lad. I'd hate to offend the Vale after all the time Jon kept them in my pocket and out of my hair. Seven hells, I'll even let the boy keep the title of Warden of the East."

At the looks on their faces, because Ned imagined that Harry's expression of outrage matched his own, Robert laughed. The sound rattling among the tombs and bouncing from the vaulted ceiling. His smile was a flash of white teeth in the trim of the neatly kept black beard.

"Ah, Ned has made you too serious, boy." Robert put a massive arm around Ned's shoulders.

The words came from Ned's mouth without preamble. "You would have ruined relations with the Vale beyond repair with the slight against them, Robert. House Arryn have always been Wardens of the East. The title goes with the domain."

"A boy of six years is no war leader, Ned. And as you're so fond of saying, winter is coming." Robert retorted sternly.

"In peace, the title is only an honor." Ned countered steely.

"And that is the only reason I'm letting him keep it." Robert was looking agitated now. "For his father's sake if not his own, I've let him keep it. I owed Jon that much for his service, but the boy is not the father. Jon's service was the duty he owed his liege lord. I am not ungrateful, Ned. You of all men ought to know that! Yet still, a mere boy cannot hold the east."

When Harry looked to speak up, Robert silenced his son with a raised hand. "However, as you pointed out, Harry, Yohn Royce can get the job done in the boy's name. Jon trusted the lords of the Vale, and I'll trust them too for now. But be prepared to make frequent trips to the Eyre, boy. If you catch even a whiff of dissent amongst those Valemen."

"Heads. Spikes. Wall." Harry intoned as if he had heard it a hundred times. And perhaps he did with all his traveling around the realm as soon as he was squiring under Ser Arthur Dayne.

"I had planned to wait a few days to speak to you, but I see now there's no need for it. Come, walk with me Ned."

They started back down between the pillars. Blind stone eyes seemed to follow them as they passed. The king kept his arm around Ned's shoulder. "You must have wondered why I finally came north to Winterfell, after so long."

Ned had his suspicions, but he did not give them voice. "For the joy of my company, surely," he said lightly. "And there is the Wall. You need to see it, Your Grace, to walk along its battlements and talk to those who man it. The Night's Watch is a shadow of what it once was. Benjen—"

"No doubt I will hear what your blasted brother says soon enough," Robert snorted. "The Wall has stood for what now? Eight thousand years? It can keep a few days more. I have more pressing concerns. These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, and as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace."

The king looked serious. He took his arm from around Ned's shoulders and grasped him by the elbow. "I have need of you, Ned."

"I am yours to command, Your Grace. Always." They were words he had to say, and so he said them, apprehensive about what might come next.

Robert scarcely seemed to hear him.

"Those years we spent in the Eyrie... gods, those were good years. I want you at my side again, Ned. I want you down in King's Landing, not up here at the end of the world where you are no damned use to anybody."

Robert looked off into the darkness, for a moment as melancholy as a Stark. "I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people... there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell... and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Thank the gods I have the boy now, and he does the job better than I'll ever see it done. Half of the bastards don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident… Ah, no, not truly, but…"

"I understand," Ned replied softly, knowing what Robert truly meant.

Robert looked at him. "I think you do. If so, you are the only one, my old friend."

Robert smiled. "Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King."

Ned dropped to one knee. The offer did not surprise him; what other reason could Robert have had for coming so far? The Hand of the King was the second-most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. He spoke with the king's voice, commanded the king's armies, drafted the king's laws. At times he even sat upon the Iron Throne to dispense king's justice, when the king was absent, or sick, or otherwise indisposed. Robert was offering him a responsibility as large as the realm itself.

It was the last thing in the world he wanted.

"Your Grace," he said. "I am not worthy of the honor."

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. "If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave, so this little shit here can start progress on making the Seven Kingdoms great from sitting the Iron Throne."

Robert slapped his gut and grinned before slapping Harry hard on the back, making the young prince stumble. Robert threw back his head and roared his laughter. The echoes rang through the darkness, and all around them the dead of Winterfell seemed to watch with cold and disapproving eyes.

Finally, the laughter dwindled and stopped. Ned was still on one knee, his eyes upraised.

"Damn it, Ned," the king complained. "You might at least humor me with a smile."

"They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man's laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death," Harry said evenly. "Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor."

Ned knew he had a pinched look on his face, but Robert laughed again, this time with Harry joining him.

"Come south with me, and I'll teach you how to laugh again, Lord Eddard Stark." the king promised. "You helped me win the damn thing, now help me keep it. We were meant to rule together. We have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection."

"May I have some time to consider? I need to tell my wife…" Ned answered, but Robert cut him off by waving an impatient hand. Yet, he was smiling as he did.

"Yes, yes, of course, tell Catelyn, sleep on it if you must. Now stand your frozen Stark ass up."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Your Grace," Ned jested, but the king reached down, clasped Ned by the hand, and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"Just don't keep me waiting too long. I am not the most patient of men. You know it well."

Harry followed them out of the crypt, speaking at length with his father about what needed to be done about the Lannisters and making war plans for a war that hadn't even started. Robert thrived best in little moments like this, and Ned saw that his friend of many years and brother bonded to him by the marriage blood of his sister Lyanna and nephew Hadrian had not become so much a shadow of his former self, but instead a man who had changed where he could to make himself a decent king. He had changed for Lyanna, at least for a while. And he had changed more for Harry.

For a moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. He looked at the stone figures all around them in the chill of the Stark family crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew.

And winter was coming…


Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It shows a bit that with Harry around-and the son of the Robert & Lyanna-he has changed things about the world and people around him just from living in the world as the crown prince. Robert, having a child from Lyanna to look after, his become a slightly stronger king and father. This chapter was supposed to center a lot more on Harry's relationship with Joffrey, but I felt it would be out of place with the major event of the chapter: the arrival on the royal family, mostly Robert. As the royal visit lasts, however, it will shed more light on how Harry and Joffrey see each other. We already got a glimpse of what Harry thinks of Joffrey; Harry thinks he's a little shit, but still has some love for his "brother". And needless to say, Harry doesn't care much at all for Cersei, who he barely tolerates.

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Next chapter - September 24th

Chapter Five: Hadrian the Rough

Hope everyone likes the story so far!

Until Next Time, See Ya!