Of White Trees and Blue Roses

I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us.

Now, I'm going to try my best to approximate where everyone would have been at this point in time based on the information I have, but please forgive me if I'm a little out on a few facts.

~X~

Chapter Forty – Calm Before the Storm (Part 2)

Benjen

Solemnly helping his older brother into his armour, Benjen silently pleaded, though he could see that Ned wasn't going to change his mind. He would be a good squire for the new Lord Stark, but then he knew he had to stay behind with the children and old men and be "the Stark in Winterfell" yet again, while Ned went off to war.

Along with the frustration of being unable to do anything, there was a strange sense of familiarity and that he'd been here before.

At first, when Ned arrived home, he'd been filled with dread over the idea of one of his two remaining siblings marching south to meet their doom, but after watching his brother practising in the yard with the family sword, he'd allowed himself to start dreaming that maybe it might be his glory he was heading towards.

Ever since he could remember, Brandon had always been the great warrior of the family as well as the heir. He was large, loud, and hard to miss, whereas the second brother was quiet, smaller, more likely to sit and read the books and parchments put before him. It was only now that he was out of Brandon's shadow that it became obvious that Ned was a very capable fighter in his own right.

Ben had watched him getting to grips with Ice in the courtyard, and had been impressed. Ned was more than just adequate with a sword—his technique wasn't fancy, but his technical ability was up there with the best he had seen. And he seemed to have grown since the last time he'd been in Winterfell, and while still not as tall as Brandon, he had definitely become a man.

During his lessons with Maester Walys, Benjen had mentioned his surprise that Ned had never entered the melee at Harrenhal, given his abilities. The maester had replied that Ned had never been fond of attention, and that maybe a capable but inconspicuous Lord Stark was exactly what the North needed right now.

The Starks were caught between the appetite for justice from the Northern lords who had lost their sons and fathers when Brandon rode on King's Landing, and a king who saw only offence and rebellion. Ned was making the right choice in marching South, but Maester Walys was hoping for him only to make enough of an impression to be able to negotiate a compromise. In his opinion, Ned would do as well of a job as his father would in the circumstances.

Ben tried not to think about what had happened to his father when he'd rode south to King's Landing, and instead, he tried to dream up a heroic tale where Eddard the Brave and his friends, Robert the Bold and Jon the Wise, fought their way to King's Landing, where the mad king was cooked alive in his own castle and his head put on a spike. Once the tyrant was overthrown, King Rhaegar took the throne with fierce Queen Lyanna by his side.

At the queen's request, and through his own battle prowess and famous tourney victories, Benjen Stark became a celebrated member of the king's guard, and then they all lived happily ever after.

It was a beautiful tale, but it was soured every time Ben thought about the armies that his brother would come up against. Eddard might be good with a sword, and Robert Baratheon and his war hammer were already spoken of, but then there were a considerable number of great lords and famous warriors on the side of the king.

Ben pressed his lips together in a tight line and concentrated on the buckle he was working on.

Ned was coming back, he reassured himself. And so was Lyanna. And then he'd never be left alone in Winterfell ever again.

~x~

Ned

Once he was wearing his full armour, his father's sword securely strapped across his back, Ned looked down at Ben. He'd done a good job of demonstrating that he would be a good squire, and though Ned would love to indulge his wish, the task was too dangerous.

Should anything happen to Ned himself, then Benjen would be Lord of Winterfell and the last male descendent of the Starks. If anything were to happen to Ben, then their line would rest with Lyanna, whose fate was very much in the hand of Rhaegar Targaryen, wherever they might be.

"When I come home, then you can go squire for Lord Bolton."

Benjen pulled a face. "What if he doesn't come back?"

"Then no doubt there will be many northern lords looking for a new squire."

Both brothers looked each other in the eyes.

"What if you don't come back?"

Ned was as solemn as ever. "Then you'll be Lord Stark and you can do as you like."

Finally dressed and prepared, Ned left his father's room and walked through the familiar corridors. Ben trotted along at his side, keeping up easily as he wasn't weighed down with plate.

Once Ned got to the courtyard, he found a crowd waiting for him. The collective anticipation was overwhelming.

If it was his father standing here, or Jon Arryn, then they would no doubt say something wise. If it was Brandon or Robert, then they would bellow something that would fire up the men and ready them for war. But they weren't here, and the crowd was waiting for Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, to speak.

He stepped forward, feeling entirely unprepared, and took a few moments to compose himself.

"I'm not the first Stark to lead you and your families south to seek justice for the actions of the Targaryens. My brother and my father have gone before me, and we have all suffered loss. Just like you all gathered here today, I want to see King Aerys feel the consequences of his actions. He and his son have wronged the north, and we will not stand by and do nothing. "

The courtyard was quiet and Ned was unsure whether this was a good sign or not. He cleared his throat and tried to raise his usually calm and quiet voice.

"I can't promise you great victories or glorious battle, but I will promise you that I will be beside you every step of the way. I will lead you south, to join with the armies of the Vale and the Stormlands, and to seek vengeance for our fathers, our brothers, our sons, and our uncles."

This went down much better and Ned was relieved to hear a few cheers. Before climbing onto his horse, decked out in Stark white and grey, he paused to lay a gauntleted hand on Ben's shoulder.

"Look after Winterfell for me. Listen to Maester Walys."

Ben nodded. "Bring Lyanna home with you."

Ned gave a sad smile. "I will find her and bring her home...if I can."

Once mounted, the young Lord Eddard Stark turned his horse towards the gates, trying not to listen to the women and children crying out to their men folk who fell into line behind him. Beyond the gates, he found his cavalry, archers, and infantrymen had already packed up their tents and were ready to leave.

By the time he passed under the thick stone walls, two Stark banners were flying by his side, yet Ned felt less than glorious heading for battle at the head of an army of angry northern men. If anything, he felt sick to his stomach.

~x~

Lyanna

It had taken Lyanna a little while longer than usual to dress this morning, but she finally made her way over to the familiar wooden table where Arthur was already eating.

Adjusting her shoulders, her splendid flowered breast plate felt tighter than usual, and uncomfortable. Plus she felt far from rested this morning.

"Good morning," Ser Arthur said politely as she sat. "Rhaegar woke early this morning, and he left word that he won't be here for your lessons today but he'll see us this evening."

Lyanna nodded—her love enjoyed his solitude, and it was hardly a loss to have to settle for being trained by one of the most skilful swordsmen in Westeros. She smiled up at the cook as she laid her customary plate of eggs fried with peppers and onions in front of her.

But then the wolf knight's face dropped as the usually delicious smell drifted up her nostrils and curdled in her stomach. Bolting away from the table, she only got as far as a collection of barrels before she retched.

~x~

Arthur

Lyanna had been looking a little pale for about a week, her illness apparent with the lack of strength in her swings of late, and Arthur looked on with sympathy as it seemed it had gotten the better of her.

Though he severely doubted that he would be able to convince her to rest even a little until she was recuperated. If he'd had any misgivings over whether his friend was doing the right thing by training a girl to be a knight, then Lyanna had dispelled them thoroughly. She was fierce, enthusiastic, and undoubtedly talented.

He would go easy on her today, though she wouldn't like it.

The cook to his left made a noise of disapproval and then refilled his mug of water. "The gods bless her. She should not be fighting in her condition."

"No, but you're braver than I am if you want to be the one to tell her." Arthur took a deep drink.

The Dornish woman smiled. "She is a strong woman and fierce, and with a babe in her she is only likely to be more so, but right now she is probably feeling as weak as a kitten. She should not be fighting while with child."

Arthur sprayed his water across the table, and wiped his face as he looked up at the woman and then across at Lyanna.

"You did not know? It is as obvious as the nose on my face. It was always going to happen—and soon, going on as they have." The cook nodded towards the top of the tower.

Arthur felt the world shift underneath him as the fact that Lyanna was bearing Rhaegar's child registered. Getting up from his seat, he followed the cook over to where she offered to help Lyanna to her feet.

"Come. Let me help you out of your armour. You're in no state to be battling today."

"I'm fine. Once I have some breakfast I'll be ready."

The woman shook her head. "No—no fighting for you." She reached out a hand to Lyanna's stomach. "When did you last have your moon blood?"

"My moon's blood? You mean..." Lyanna's brow furrowed and then relaxed, her eyes growing wide. "No, it's just a stomach complaint. I'm fine. Really I am."

"You look tired, almost as white as a ghost." She held a tan hand to Lyanna's greyish cheek. "And your breasts, they feel tender and swollen, yes?"

Lyanna said nothing and her panicked eyes found Arthurs.

With a deep swallow, he took a step back. "I will go fetch Rhaegar straight away."

Running over to the stables, Arthur urgently saddled his horse, pausing only to watch the cook leading Lyanna inside the Tower of Joy.