This is a prelude to set up the main chapters. Don't expect much plot and dialogue for these chapters.
THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REWRITTEN 2023/02/11
DATES OF REBELLION FOLLOW SHOW-VERSE, AND NOT THE BOOKS. In the books it starts 282 until 284AC, whereas show has it from 281-282AC. Fic is based mostly off the book, but I want them to have their ages from the show.
This chapter is so clunky because I had to shove and compress 2 years worth of events. It's enough material to probably split into 3 separate full chapters with more detail, but these past events are already well-known and I don't plan on making Ned a main pov character that needs to have his backstory fleshed out like that.
281AC - Beginning of Rebellion
The raven came early in the morning, while he was practicing in the yard with Robert. Jon Arryn called them both to his solar, his voice soft and kind, as he broke the news to Eddard.
Father and Brandon were dead. Killed by the Mad King.
Lyanna had been kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar. Brandon, as impulsive as he was, went to confront the King, and ended up being thrown in a cell. Father followed soon after, demanding trial by combat to free his son. It ended as bloody as one would imagine when challenging a mad king. (strangled, boiled in his armor)
Lyanna was still missing.
Lord Arryn received a formal decree, demanding he hand over Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon as traitors to the crown.
Robert cursed and raged; his wrath as powerful as the storms of his homeland.
"I won't let him have you," Lord Arryn said, eyes filled with resolution. He had already decided on his course of action the moment he read the message.
"We'll kill them, Ned. All of them. The king, his son, all the dragons and anyone who chooses to side with them!" Robert promised.
Eddard knew that honor required Jon Arryn do the same, as he was their foster father and had taken all the responsibilities that came with that, but at that moment he couldn't help but love them both all the more for their support.
Jon Arryn told them both to go home and raise their banners. They would meet again in Riverrun.
Left alone to his thoughts of his dead family members, Eddard didn't howl in anger and break things like Brandon would have, nor did he fall down weeping. His was a quiet rage; ice-cold and cutting.
When he thought of the pain father and Brandon went through, he would have wept gladly. The tears burned in the back of his eyes, but they did not fall. Even now, he was a Stark of Winterfell, and his grief and rage froze hard inside of him.
I will kill him, the wolf howled from within him, echoing Robert's words. The king and Rhaegar.
I will kill them!
/~~/
It didn't take as long as he thought it would to rally the men. They had heard the news around the same time as he did and were already expecting a war to break out. Their oaths and loyalty demanded they fight for justice for their murdered lieges.
Benjen wanted to be taken along. They were his family too, and he wanted revenge and wanted to be there when they took back Lyanna. Eddard, of course, refused. Benjen was only fourteen, still too young to be on a battlefield.
"I am almost a man grown," he protested, a stubborn tilt to his jaw that showed he had already made up his mind and there was no stopping him. "Mother can be the Stark in Winterfell. And if you don't take me with you, I promise I will sneak out after you. It makes no difference to me, since I will be going anyway."
But Eddard could be just as stubborn. "I will have guards on you all the time and let everyone know that if you are spotted within the camp, you are to be sent back immediately with an escort. You need to be safe, Benjen, and you need to stay here with mother and look after her."
Finally Benjen showed hesitation. If both of them left, their mother would be alone. She already lost two children; did she need to grief over another two at war? Benjen understood this well. But. Lyanna. Rhaegar. How could he tell his mother or his brother about how he passed along messages between the two, that Brandon died for nothing, because Rhaegar had not kidnapped Lyanna, they were in love. The guilt ate at him every night. If he had ignored the promise he made to Lyanna to keep their secret, then perhaps his father and Brandon would still be alive. Now they were dead, and it was his fault. The only thing he could do to make everything right was save Lyanna and bring her back home.
But he needed Ned to understand why he had to do this. So he told his brother about everything that happened, starting from the Tourney at Harrenhal. He told his brother of how Lyanna felt annoyed with the squires who had beaten up Howland Reed, so she dressed up in armor that Benjen helped get for her and put her name in the lists. She was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Rhaegar found out and rather than out her to his father, the King, he helped her escape. From then on, they began exchanging secret letters. The prince was all she could talk about for the following year. When father began to speak more and more about her betrothal, she told him about how she wished it was Rhaegar she would be marrying. Brandon was leaving Winterfell for his own wedding and father gave her permission to attend as a member of House Stark. That night, Lyanna had hugged him and told him that nobody, not even father, could force her to do anything she didn't want to do. She was going to create her own path, not something that was already set out for her. Benjen heard about her 'kidnapping' later. Father had been wroth.
"I didn't know if I should tell father or not. You know how he gets when he is angry, and he was already so angry with Lyanna. I didn't want her to get in any more trouble. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to! But by the time I finally worked up the courage, father already left for King's Landing to save Brandon. I sent a raven to Riverrun, but it seems father didn't get it, or maybe he did. I don't know." Benjen's shoulders were shaking so badly that Eddard placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's my fault. I should have told father. I should have told him about Rhaegar and Lyanna. If I told father, maybe nothing would have happened. Who cares if Lyanna would hate me? I rather prefer that she was unhappy."
Eddard believed Benjen without question. In truth, he always suspected that might have been the case when he first heard of Lyanna's kidnapping. Rhaegar was as courteous as a knight in a song, showing no signs of Targaryen madness, and the eyes that gazed upon his sister as he handed her a crown of blue winter roses were clear and bright. Lyanna, willful and strong Lyanna, would never let herself be taken like that without a fight or die doing so. His sister, while rebellious and not fond of most feminine arts, was still as romantic as any 15yr old girl. She loved songs and stories of princesses and knights. She might have thought theirs was a story of star-crossed lovers, and her yearning of freedom would have made her fall straight into the arms of the bard prince.
"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature. Besides, I think he is more interested in becoming your real brother, than being my husband."
Lyanna had made herself clear that she would not marry Robert whom she had no love for, no matter what their father said. And when Lyanna decided on something, nothing could change her mind. He could see her falling in love with someone she wasn't supposed to and running away with him. Brandon, who was like the mirror of Lyanna, was just as volatile. He would have heard of the news of his missing sister, made a judgment without thinking or talking it through with anyone, and would have gone straight to the source. "Come out and die!" he demanded of Rhaegar once he reached the Red Keep, not caring that such statements were treasonous.
Father always warned both Brandon and Lyanna that their wolfish natures would lead to their early deaths. He tried to control them by setting rules and punishments, but it only seemed to drive them even more to rebellion. And see where it had led them all. A war was about to break out, and it could be said to have started from Lyanna's willfulness and Brandon's recklessness.
"I need to do this, brother. I need to do something to save Lyanna. I can't stay here behind the walls while you fight to bring her back. Please." It was hard to deny each other when both could understand the feelings of the other. Benjen wanted to help his siblings; Eddard wanted him to be safe.
Eventually, Eddard relented after promises that Benjen would not take part in the actual fighting. He would be put amongst the squires or archers. He considered going back on his word to Benjen when he was faced with his mother's bitter weeping. "If I leave him here, he'll only follow me, you know he will. I promise, mother, I will look after him. He won't take part in any of the fighting."
"Benjen, where is Benjen? Has he already passed?" His mother lost half her weight after what happened and only continued to grow thinner with every passing day. She could hardly bring herself to sit up straight in bed and slept most of the time. Her deep blue eyes, which once shone so brightly, were sunken in her face and stared at him with a faraway look.
He swallowed thickly, trying not to look away from his mother who had changed so much. Was her grief so much that she was losing her wits? "Benjen was just here. Do you remember?"
She didn't seem to hear his words, already deciding that her youngest son was dead along with her eldest. "Gone, my baby is gone. The gods ask too much of me."
"Nothing will happen to Benjen, mother. I promise. And I promise that I will bring Lyanna back home where she belongs. We will be together again soon."
"Yes, we will be together again soon," she perked up, making her look much like a delighted child, despite how much older she now looked. "Me, Rickard, Brandon, and Benjen. We will be together. Oh, my poor Ned." She cupped his cheek with a thin hand. "You mustn't lose hope."
He placed his hand over hers and held it close. Her fingernails had been bitten down to almost nothing. She used to have such soft, pretty hands. "I won't."
"Lyanna, Lyanna, all my sweet babes, the gods are cruel. So cruel. Oh, Lyanna," the clarity in his mother's eyes disappeared once again and she retreated into her own world.
Eddard called the maester and left his mother in the old man's care. The two brothers left soon after that, marching the army to Riverrun to meet up with Jon Arryn. He was aware of what waited for him there.
They needed more allies other than the Vale, North, and Stormlands. They needed Riverrun and its army and supplies. The best way to get it would be marriage. Hoster Tully had two daughters: Catelyn and Lysa.
Brandon had been betrothed to Catelyn. Honor might have demanded Hoster Tully side with the rebels, rather than the killers of his daughter's betrothed, but he had a duty to the crown as well and breaking off that duty would not come cheap. Eddard and Jon would need to pay a price - and having two daughters as the wives of Lord Paramounts was what would win them Hoster Tully's support. This was why father had wanted a marriage between Brandon and Lord Tully's eldest daughter in the first place, despite Brandon not wanting it.
Just like Lyanna, Brandon hated when his life was controlled by their father. He probably saw his betrothal to Catelyn as a chain. He had said as much to their father, but father had great ambitions. Southron ambitions that would not be served by having his heir marry the daughter of one of his own vassals. Brandon said that at least he was lucky enough not to have to close his eyes when it came to the bedding.
Eddard had never met Catelyn before. Lyanna and Benjen both went once with Brandon to Riverrun, but he had been fostered in the Vale and it wasn't easy to join them. He did not know what to expect. He felt awkward knowing that he was marrying the woman who was intended for Brandon. She loved his brother, according to Benjen, just as so many other women did. Now she had to marry the dour younger brother. Despite this, Eddard did his duty, what he felt was necessary, and accepted the marriage.
The first time he saw the woman he was to marry was when she walked down arm-in-arm with her father down the aisle. Catelyn Tully was undoubtedly beautiful. She had long, beautiful red hair that was rarely seen in the North and sky-blue eyes. She walked to him with confidence in her step, her back straight and head held high. There was not a hint of hesitation on her dignified face even though she was marrying an open rebel. He gently removed her maiden cloak from her shoulders and draped over the direwolf of Stark.
The feasting happened right afterwards. It was supposed to be a quick affair, they were at war after all, but the servants had taken care that it was still a feast worthy of the first daughter of Lord Tully. The Hall of Riverrun was beautifully decorated, with accents of Stark white mixed with Tully blue and red. It was lit up brightly, making it much more cheerful than if they had held it in the dark Great Hall of Winterfell. From outside the windows, one could see and hear the sounds of the river surrounding the castle. Raucous laughter filled the halls, contrasting with the way he felt.
Eddard felt like an invader at his own wedding.
In the Great Hall of Harrenhal he had thought that the woman who he would share his old age with would be a maiden with purple eyes. She ended up being Brandon's, as most things were. How ironic, that Catelyn, who was also Brandon's, did not become his wife because she wanted him, but because his brother was dead.
They laid together that night. Eddard found out that Catelyn, too, knew her duty well. She too, did not know anything about him, yet was expected to marry this unknown man because it was what her House expected of her. Perhaps this marriage was worse on her, than it would be on him.
The next morning, as they said their goodbyes, his new lady wife showed no signs of distress that she might end up being the widow of a dead rebel, and coolly told him that she would wait for news of his victory. He thought long about her words and demeanor, and he found himself hoping that love would grow between the two of them after all.
/~~/
Eddard did not think much about his wife after that, because thoughts of her ended up to thoughts of Brandon. Brandon who was supposed to be hers, Brandon who was supposed to be Lord of Winterfell.
Brandon, his brave brother. Strangled to death trying to save father.
Instead, he made plans for their battles. Benjen came to him, reminding him of Rhaegar and Lyanna. How could he even forget? Perhaps he and Benjen could persuade Prince Rhaegar to put down arms. They could speak it out and meet with Lyanna together, then they could decide what to do about Aerys.
As they prepared to face Rhaegar near the Trident, he thought about how he would confront Rhaegar and how he could explain things to Robert. It would be difficult; Robert already expressed a deep hatred for anything Targaryen, but he still had faith that if anyone could stop Robert it would be himself. Robert always valued his opinion. If he did it the right way, surely his friend would relent. He would worry about the "what then?" later. How the rebels and loyalists would react to knowing they were fighting a war based on a lie, what they would think of the foolhardy lovers, all of this came later.
Eddard intended on following behind Robert, as he always did. He knew Robert would go straight for the Dragon Prince. But battles were always filled with uncertainty and chaos; things rarely went as planned, and they were soon separated, with Robert and Rhaegar on one side of the river and him on the other. He could still hear Robert using his booming voice to give commands during the fighting, but he could not see him.
When he finally got to Robert, what he saw was an image that would stick in the minds of all who gazed upon it for the rest of their lives, for it was the moment a 300-year-old dynasty was snuffed out. Robert Baratheon, with his great warhammer and antlered helm stood above the fallen Dragon Prince like a deity who had come down upon the battlefield. Rhaegar's chest had been crushed in with a blow of the warhammer. The blow was so hard that the rubies adorning his armor were shattered free to litter the river.
His first thought was, 'Lyanna'. What would Lyanna do when she found out Rhaegar was dead? She would no doubt be devastated. No matter his personal feelings about the prince, he was still an important person to his sister, and Rhaegar himself had nothing to do with the deaths of Brandon and father. Before he could think more about his sister and her lost love, he saw the wounds Robert sustained, and it made all thoughts of the prince move to the back of his head. He immediately went to Robert's side and called for a maester, worried that his friend might bleed out.
"Gods, Ned!" Robert gasped, clutching at a bleeding wound at his side. "I killed him. Did you see me? I killed the bastard!"
"Yes, I saw," he said, holding him upright. "We won the battle," Eddard tried to smile, but somehow it did not feel like victory when Rhaegar's dead body lay a few meters away. Robert continued to ramble away, still drunk off his victory and blood loss. Eddard stayed with him until the maester arrived, and seeing that Robert was in good hands, set his attention back to the battlefield.
They might have won the battle, but the war continued. Leaderless, the royal army broke away and began to flee in the direction back to King's Landing. They needed to conquer the capital and claim the throne before they could be called the victors, the Tyrells and Martells needed to be dealt with, and Storm's End still needed to be freed from its siege.
"Lord Stark!" The name made him jerk back, thinking that perhaps his father or brother was sighted. But the dream didn't last long. They were both rotting in a shallow grave somewhere. He was Lord Stark.
"What is it?" He asked the soldier, trying not to show how affected he was by the reminder of his stolen position.
"It's!" The soldier, a Dustin by the sigil on his armor, almost keeled over when he came to halt in front of him. Eddard waited as the man tried to catch his breath. Part of him wanted the man would just spit it already, the other part, filled with dread, wanted him to never speak again. "It's your brother!"
The man had no time to say much else because Eddard was already sprinting towards the area where the Northmen were camped. He ignored the lords and men who gave him pitying looks as he ran by. 'Don't look at me like that,' he wanted to yell at them. 'There's no reason for you to look at me like that. Mind your own business.'
As he came upon the tent, a maester exited, looking startled at his appearance. Quickly, before Eddard could ask him anything, he scurried away. He did not fail to notice the blood on the maester's hands. When he entered, Lord Cerwyn, a longtime friend of his father, was the only one inside.
Lord Cerwyn explained how Benjen left his position and took a sword and horse to join in on the fighting. Someone must have seen the armor and sigil he wore and ordered him to be rained down with arrows. He was already dead when the first arrow struck him through the throat.
The arrows had been removed and a blanket covered his entire body below the neck. Someone had wiped the blood from his face. Gently, he placed a hand on Benjen's cheek. It was still cold, but it would be fine. The cold never bothered them anyway. His brother did not look like he was dead, only asleep. Eddard could pretend that he would wake up any moment now and grumble about coddling him in public. What ruined it, was that Benjen's chest was completely still. He was not breathing. There was no heartbeat.
Their younger brother was truly gone.
They took father and Brandon from him, and now Benjen? Benjen who had only been fourteen. Could the gods truly be so cruel? His mother, what will he say to his mother? He made a promise to her. She was still waiting, all alone, in Winterfell.
"Let it out, boy," the older lord said. It was only the two of them here, and there was no shame in crying for a lost sibling.
Eddard brushed hair away from his brother's face. How could he allow his tears to fall when there was still a war to be fought?
He wrapped his brother up in his own cloak and left Lord Cerwyn in charge of taking care of the body and delivering the news to his mother. As for himself, he changed out of his stained armor and into a new set. The battle was still in the clean-up stages, bodies were still being collected and buried, the wounded still tended to, but there was no time to waste. He would rest and recover on the way. The sooner he went to King's Landing, the sooner he could find Lyanna.
"Where to next?" William Dustin asked. He looked at his new liege with a worried gaze through the corner of his eyes.
Eddard ignored all of their silent concern. He could appreciate it later, but not now. Not so soon. "King's Landing."
/~~/
They arrived to a King's Landing that was burning. [1]
Butchery. Women, children, old men. Homes looted and burned. Raping and pillaging. Scores of innocents killed. Corpses of Targaryen loyalists and gold cloaks littered the streets.
For once, the city of King's Landing was filled with a scent other than its usual shit and piss; it stank of death and smoke.
The screams echoed through his head. It was as if he could hear every individual scream, every call for help and plea for mercy. He passed many people, splattered with blood and gore of their family or fellows, looking as if they were not sure if they were dead or alive. Eddard could relate with them; when on a battlefield, it was hard to tell if one were living or if one were seeing the sights of hell. His stomach rolled as his horse trotted through lumps of what had once been part of a man's head.
This was war, he knew. And yet -
"Help who you can," he told his men, hoping to bring some order. He left more than half of them under the charge of Rickard Kastark and Roose Bolton, while he took the rest with him to the Red Keep.
Red cloaks and golden lions filled the streets, yet any signs of Tywin Lannister, the man responsible for this all, was nowhere to be seen. Some of the soldiers stopped briefly to look at them, then continued when they saw the banners of the North. Eddard didn't have the authority to order them to stop and could only hope to find Tywin or for Robert to reach the city soon.
When he finally came upon the Throne room - the same room where father and Brandon had been tortured - he expected to find the Mad King there. Instead, he found Jaime Lannister sitting brazenly on the Iron Throne, sword unsheathed. At his feet, lay a bleeding corpse.
Eddard walked towards the Throne, keeping his gaze on the knight. He felt the empty eyes of the dragon skulls follow him down the path. Men, both Stark and Lannister, waited behind by the doors to see what would happen. Would Stark claim the throne for himself, or would Lannister declare his father to be king? But neither of the two men themselves had any such intention.
The corpse was revealed to be Aerys Targaryen. His purple eyes were as wild in death as they were in life. His mouth hung open, leaking blood from the throat. He lost control of his bowels before death, staining his royal robes.
High above them all, seated on the Throne, was Lannister. He wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over golden armor and wore a helm fashioned in the shape of a lion's head. Even his sword was elegantly gilded. As if the name of Lannister were not enough, he wanted the people to see who his father was and what House he belonged to from mere appearance alone. The sword sat across his lap; its edge still red with king's blood. Eddard said nothing, only gazing coldly down at the young man.
At last, the knight laughed. "Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid."
The blithe comment from Lannister set something off within him. He did not particularly care that Aerys was dead, that was what he came here to do after all. Kill the man who killed his father and brother. But seeing the smirking Lannister, reminded Eddard of what he had seen in the city below. The horrendous carnage and meaningless fates inflicted on the smallfolk by men who thought they could do as they pleased to those who were weaker. In a coat of gold or coat of the kingsguard, a lion was a lion.
"Kingslayer," the words of condemnation left his mouth, heard by all who stood by and watched. For a moment Jaime Lannister's face wavered, a look of incomprehensibility taking over, but Eddard did not care to know why. He had seen enough.
Jaime Lannister finally got off from the Throne and went to stood by his father's men. Eddard did not spare another look in their direction.
Silence remained within the Throne Room. Everyone was waiting for who would be next to enter. To Eddard's relief, it was Robert who came in, mounted atop his black war destrier. Robert was here now. He would take care of things.
He frowned when even more Lannister red streamed in after him, bringing with them even more horror.
Tywin Lannister's 'gifts' of fealty to the new monarch was presented before them for all to see.
Wrapped in the crimson cloaks of Lannister was Rhaegar Targaryen's wife and children. 3-year-old Rhaenys was stabbed half a hundred times, her corpse resembling a piece of bloody meat more than a child. The babe, not even a year old, had his skull crushed in. All that remained of him was a faceless horror of bone, brain, and gore with a few hanks of fair hair. (He had been ripped from his mother's arms and smashed against a wall; Eddard found out later. The girl cried as she was dragged out from where she hid under her father's bed to face the sword of Amory Lorch. The Mountain still had the blood of Aegon on his hands when he raped Elia Martell in front of the corpses of her children. Even later, he found out Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch had been rewarded by their liege lord for what they had done, despite Tywin claiming they had done so by their own will.)
Eddard was used to all sorts of death now, but he found himself holding back nausea at the gruesome display.
"What do you bring before me?" Robert frowned. Not even he could stand the sight.
"The threats to your throne have been dealt with. Quickly and efficiently."
Tywin Lannister went on to explain that the plan was to crush the Mad King's remaining bannermen and bring order to the city in order to save lives. Any other alternative would have meant years of further war and a fragmented 7 kingdoms. And with Jaime Lannister's murder of Aerys Targaryen, Robert's crown was secured. As for Elia Martell and her children, Tywin had only told his men to procure them as prisoners for the crown. Somehow things went awry and all three ended up dead during the struggle.
Horseshit.
Eddard saw it for what it was: meaningless slaughter. How dare he present such acts as fidelity?
Since when was Tywin Lannister the type to care for the lives of others, and how would slaughtering and rape of the smallfolk be the solution to ending the war? Since when did the man who obliterated Houses Reyne and Tarbeck for daring to scorn the power of the Rock do nothing to the men who had supposedly disobeyed his orders? Was there anyone in the Westerlands who would even dare do so in the first place? Why was he allowing these men to go free instead of bringing them forward if they truly did defy commands? By what right did mere knights think they could kill (and rape, if the rumors were to be believed) royalty? Unless someone ordered it, unless they had a strong backing.
There was also the matter of Lannister banners flying all over the city ramparts.
Eddard had no doubt that if the royalists were the ones to return victorious from the Trident, the Lannisters would be singing a different tune. Tywin had ignored ravens calling for help from both the royalists and the rebels. The fact that he waited to make a choice until after news of their victory came was telling in and of itself.
He thought of Benjen. Barely a boy. Then of Rhaenys and Aegon, they had been even younger. When he started this war alongside Robert, he had never thought that there would be the deaths of so many children. That was war. No one wanted the children to die, yet they did. And here was Tywin Lannister, ordering their deaths. Quickly and efficiently.
He could feel his face turning red, almost shaking with rage. "They are children!" He spat at the Old Lion. Tywin turned his steady gaze on him, looking as if he was the strange one. As if he hadn't just brutally killed a woman and her babes. "They pose no threat to anybody."
"Dragonspawn. They were dragonspawn," Robert's voice cut through the room like a sharp knife.
Eddard jerked at the callous words that came from Robert's mouth. He looked over at his friend with the eyes of a stranger. "Robert, you can't mean that. They were children. Look at them. Look at them!" Robert stared unabashedly forward, refusing to look again after the first time. Eddard clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palm. "And what of Elia Martell? What crimes has the princess of Dorne committed to have been defiled by knights who serve House Lannister? Lord Tywin tells us that he was ignorant of their deeds, but what dog does something without the permission of its master?"
"What are you implying, Lord Stark?" Tywin Lannister's pale green eyes bored through him. If it had been any other man, they might have flinched or swallowed their words, but Eddard simply returned it with a cold look of his own.
A year ago, he never would have said such things. He was the second son, the obedient one, the quiet one. He followed behind Brandon, then behind Robert. War had changed him. Death had changed him. "I am saying that you, Lord Tywin, are a shameless-"
"Enough!" Robert roared. "Leave us! Everyone, out!"
Tywin Lannister gazed shrewdly between the two of them, a small hint of satisfaction on his face. He knew he had halfway gotten away with his deeds if Stark and Baratheon were in disagreement. He gave a small bow and followed the order, his son obediently after him. Eddard nodded at his own men, letting them know to follow the order as well.
He turned away as the bodies were carried away, but still caught sight of Elia Martell's face, twisted in pain and grief. Her white eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly. Murder, murder, murder, they cried. He had no excuses to give her.
The colds of the North never bothered him before, yet the Throne Room seemed so chilly he had to suppress any shudders. From all around them the skulls of dragons watched over them. Now that they were alone, all the empty sockets seemed to turn on the two of them.
"I didn't order it," Robert said, ignoring his friend's icy gaze.
"I know you did not." For it was true. Robert was many things, but a murderer was far from any one of them. "And yet, you do not protest against his actions. This is murder, Robert, and you know it. They were no more than babes." Robert had the sense to at least look ashamed. Eddard continued. "I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of innocents?"
"To put an end to Targaryens," he growled.
"Not like this. Not with the death of children and women, and not with a sword thrusted through the back. They took the city by treachery and put their mark all over it," he gritted his teeth.
"Treachery is a coin the Targaryens know all too well. Lannister paid them back in kind. It was no less than they deserve."
"They refused to answer any of our calls until after the Trident, yet now they wish to be rewarded for walking through the open gates of a city they were welcomed in? And what of the audacity to fly the lion of Lannister over the ramparts, not your stag?"
"So he wanted to see who would win, what of it? If I killed every lord or House who decided to do the same, this entire room would be filled with their heads," he rolled his eyes. Hells, just a few days ago he had forgiven a handful of lords from the Crownlands who had fought against them, even killed their comrades. The Lannisters', on the other hand, hadn't spilled any blood of the rebels. Their only crime was waiting. They were not different from the Freys in that regard.
"Then what of the smallfolk he has slaughtered? What were the reasons for their deaths? Did you not see how the city looked when you passed through? Where is the honor in what the Lannisters have done?"
"What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Ask your family about the dragon's honor! What happened in King's Landing is unfortunate, but necessary to secure the throne. You didn't think Aerys was going to hand over his crown peacefully, did you? The Capital had to be taken forcefully. Perhaps if we came earlier, we could have prevented what the Lannisters did, but what's done is done. We won the war; we have the Throne." Robert was pacing around at this point. He knew what his friend was saying was true. He had seen the carnage as he rode to the Red Keep, and seen how the children had been killed, but his anger and hatred outweighed his sense of justice.
"And what of Elia Martell and the royal children? Was all that happened to them necessary as well? You saw yourself. It's vile. It's unspeakable."
"Unspeakable?" Robert finally stopped pacing, turning his wild eyes on him. Eddard thought at that moment that Robert might have more dragon blood in him than he would ever admit. "What Aerys did to Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar, how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times? I swear I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they are as dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves. As for the children…theirs is the same cursed blood that killed your father and brothers. What were they going to grow up to be, loyal subjects?"
"Don't you dare…" he said softly. "Use my family as justification for murder."
Robert opened his mouth, then shut it. "What do you want me to do then?" He asked awkwardly. He would never be the weak one here and apologize. It wasn't in his nature to do so.
"Jaime Lannister killed his king. Send him to the Wall where he might find some honor."
"His sword helped win the throne I am to sit on, and you want me to kill him?" Robert asked, flabbergasted.
"His sword helped taint the throne you are to sit on," his upper lip curled, not hiding his disgust at this point. "He swore a vow to protect his king's life with his own. Then he opened that king's throat with a sword."
"Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerys!" He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "If Lannister hadn't done it, it would have been left for you or me."
"We are not Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard. The Lannister's must be held responsible for their crimes." He insisted.
"Crimes? Is it a crime to put an end to a family of lunatics born of incest?"
"Perhaps not, but it is a crime to kill a noble woman who is a princess to both the Throne and Dorne. It is a crime to stab a three-year-old girl so many times she no longer resembles a human. It is a crime to kill a babe still at his mother's breast. It is a crime that was enacted upon the people of King's Landing. Justice must be given to Elia Martell and her children, and for the smallfolk who are now your people. Behead Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch and send their heads to Dorne. Bring forward every soldier who unjustly killed and raped and have them sent to the Wall alongside the Kingslayer. As for Tywin Lannister… he is to give up his position and pass it over to his son, Tyrion, or his brother, Kevan."
Up until that point, Robert had been listening to him, but when he mentioned Tywin Lannister, he looked to Eddard as though he had just grown a second head. "Are you mad, man? You want to start a war with the Westerlands?"
"A trial, then! Let them defend themselves in a trial by combat. That way the Lannisters have no dispute with the crown."
They argued and argued, curses getting more louder and violent in ways that they'd never been before. No, Robert will not be killing any Lannister or their men. There will be no council or trial. Eddard called him cold-blooded. Robert called him a fool, a bleeding heart.
Eddard was filled with a vast sense of helplessness. He had run out of words. Nothing he said would change Robert's mind. He wished Jon Arryn were here. He would know the right words to say. He would knock Robert upside the head and pound it through his thick skull, just how vile the Lannisters were. Eddard was not like that. Just like with Brandon, he only stood on the side as his brother and best friend indulged in their baser feelings.
His rage from before was gone. Snuffed out alongside the Targaryens. No, he lost his rage the moment he marched into war and saw the dead bodies of his countrymen and friends pile up around him. They died to avenge his father and brother, they died to bring back their Lady Lyanna, not knowing she went willingly, they died for his honor. For House Stark.
He felt wretched. He lost so many of his family and friends. Who was to blame? Who could he hate? Aerys, Rhaegar, Lyanna? But two were dead, and he could never hate his sister.
Now he had lost his best friend as well.
"I thought you were a better man," he shook his head, not hiding his disappointment. He turned away and left for the doors. "I thought you had honor."
"Others take you and your honor!" Robert cursed, swinging a fist at his back.
Robert shouted after him, calling his name, but he didn't turn back once. He left Robert behind to the cursed Red Keep. He needed to be away from this place as far as possible. Away from the arrogant Kingslayer and his inhumane father, away from the eyes of Elia Martell and her babes, away from the corpses of the innocents that stared after him, all demanding justice, and most of all away from Robert.
He wanted to find his sister and go home.
The gods ask too much, indeed, mother.
/~~/
Eddard left King's Landing the very next day to lift the siege at Storm's End. Lords Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne quickly dipped their banners. It was here that the maester informed of his mother's passing. He processed it with a detached sort of understanding. He thanked the maester, who looked surprised by his reaction, or rather, lack thereof, and after checking on the emaciated Stannis and young Renly, he rode south to the Red Mountains of Dorne.
His companions informed him of the sporadic pieces of news they received while on their journey. Robert was crowned before Eddard lifted the Siege. Jaime Lannister, Varys, and Pycelle were publicly forgiven for their crimes and retaken into Robert's service. No news about Tywin Lannister's arrest or beheading. If Jaime was forgiven and kept at the king's side, then his father must have been as well. Eddard knew that Robert needed the Lannister's in order to consolidate his power of the 7 kingdoms. Jon Arryn would have probably said this as well.
He pushed away thoughts of Robert and King's Landing, pushed away Benjen and his peaceful sleeping, pushed away the recent news of his mother. Instead, oftentimes, he found himself daydreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night. Did his sister dream of it too? Was she waiting for him somewhere, so they could return together to where they belong? It was these thoughts that drove him forwards through the sweltering heat of the desert.
He chose his small group of companions well. He knew that once he found Lyanna, there would be a lot of explaining to do so he wanted people he could trust, that he knew were loyal to him and House Stark. And most of all, who could be discreet. William Dustin, Mark Ryswell, Theo Wull and Ethan Glover were all Brandon's friends who stayed close at his side during the war. Each of them wanted to avenge their fallen friend and each knew Lyanna personally. Howland Reed was indebted to his sister for what she did for him at the Tourney of Harrenhal, while the Cassels were House Stark's closest bannermen.
He wasn't sure how his meeting with Lyanna would go. She had eloped with Rhaegar Targaryen after all, not kidnapped like everyone seemed to believe. Would she even want to go with him? What did she think of father and Brandon who had gone to King's Landing for her sake? Did she know about Benjen by now? What did she think Eddard himself thought of her?
All he knew was that he was sure it would not go as Robert would have liked it to go: Lyanna rescued and back in his arms to be his Queen. Lyanna hadn't wanted to marry Robert before she met Rhaegar, and probably wanted to marry him even less now that he had murdered her beloved.
When they reached the Tower of Joy - a terrible name for all the events that occurred around it - three men waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. Eddard knew that the fight would go down seven, against three. Yet these were no ordinary three. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, with Dawn poking over his shoulder; Ser Oswell Whent, with the black bat of his House spreading its wings across his white-enameled helm. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
When he came closer, he spotted a sad smile on Ser Arthur's face. It confused him; did he grieve for his fallen friend or for the king he failed to protect? Yet no hatred or revenge could be found in his eyes.
"I looked for you on the Trident," he broke the guarded silence that had befallen them.
"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.
"Your friend, the Usurper, would be lying beneath the ground if we had been," Ser Oswell said.
"Ser Willem Darry fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him," he said. Many had noticed the missing Kingsguard members from the Trident and King's Landing. They were not at Storm's End, nor were they said to be with the remaining royal family. Eddard knew that there might be a Kingsguard with his sister, but he didn't think that almost half of them would be here.
"Ser Willem is a good man and true," Ser Oswell said. "But not of the Kingsguard. The Kingsguard does not flee."
"Then or now," Ser Arthur said. He donned his helm.
"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.
"What of your vows to Rhaegar? Why were you not there to protect your prince, or his children?" Dragonspawn. That tragedy would not have happened had there been even one of these three there.
"Our prince wanted us here." Eddard could not properly see any of their expressions because of their helms, but he thought that he saw Ser Arthur's mouth twist with grief.
Eddard glanced at the tower, was Lyanna truly here then? Somewhere in one of the rooms with the open windows? "Where is my sister?"
Ser Arthur only stepped forward in lieu of an answer. Eddard's companions moved up beside him, with swords in hand. They were seven against three.
"And now it begins," Ser Arthur said. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.
"No," Eddard said, mirroring the sadness Ser Arthur's voice. "Now it ends."
William and Mark went for Ser Gerold, while Theo and Ethan went for Ser Oswell. The remaining three; himself, Howland and Martyn circled Ser Arthur. They knew that they had little chance of taking on the Sword of the Morning in a fair one-on-one fight, but soon learnt three meant nothing because Ser Arthur easily slashed through both Howland and Martyn, taking them down as if they were little more than squires with sticks. He had known that the knight was the best in the realm, but this was more than what he expected. It would not be surprising if all seven of them were to be taken out by this single man.
Letting out a deep breath he challenged Ser Arthur himself. Four against two, one on one.
Ice and Dawn came together in a violent song. Their blades clashed, and sparks flew. [2]
As they fought, Eddard remembered the tales of Ser Arthur heard even as far as the Eyrie and Winterfell. He was only a couple of years his senior, yet he was already like a legendary figure in Westeros. The knight in a white cloak with his sword that could only be wielded by those worthy of it.
Eddard himself was no common swordsman of ordinary strength. He long since knew that he and his siblings had some gifts that most people did not have. They never spoke of it, but it was there. He knew he had more strength than Arthur Dayne, that there was more power behind his swings, but no matter how much raw power he had, the Sword of the Morning was a man who was second to none. His skills with a blade far outclassed Eddard's, and he was far more experienced in battle. Against the knight it felt like his innate prowess and all his lessons and fights leading to this moment meant near nothing. Eddard's surprising strength only caused a brief moment of surprise to the knight, who simply switched his approach to one that would match his opponent's vicious strikes. Eddard went at him relentlessly, trying to get him to lose his balance, trying to tire him out.
Ser Arthur's blade moved as if it were an extension of his arms, skillfully parrying his blows. Instead, it was Eddard that was quickly tiring out. Sweat was pouring off his forehead, and his heart was smacking against his ribs. His back was drenched from both exertion and the sun beating down on him. It hadn't even been ten minutes yet, and he felt like he was battling for over an hour against several men. Ser Arthur himself looked as if he could go at it for the entire afternoon.
His heart stuttered when he heard another one of his companion's dying screams. It was Ethan Glover this time, Brandon's young squire. How many of them were left? None. Howland…. Martyn, Theo, William, Mark. Even Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell were bleeding out on the sands. It was only him and Ser Arthur left. I am alone.
Ser Arthur sensed his faltering and used that moment to strike. Eddard barely dodged a slash that would have cut his throat. The movement caused him to lose his balance and Ser Arthur managed to cast Ice out of his hand.
Ser Arthur approached him, Dawn lifting slightly in the air. I am going to die here, here in the sands, far away from his home, with Lyanna still waiting for him. Lyanna…I'm sorry. He stared at the white blade, knowing it would be his death.
And suddenly -
The knight fell to his knees. [3]
"Howland," he gasped. His friend was still alive and had somehow attacked him from behind. Eddard's eyes wildly darted to check on the fallen knight, then to his friend who still lay a few feet away. There was no blade or small weapon in sight. How?
Grunts of pain from Ser Arthur who was struggling to keep himself upright shook him out of his daze. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He went for his blade, bringing it back up into his hands and pointed it towards Ser Arthur. The knight coughed, blood gurgling from his lips like a fountain. His mouth opened and closed, as if he wanted to say something. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words.
He was not the one to give Ser Arthur the death blow, but he knew he would have to kill the knight, both to end the battle and to put him out of his suffering. And if you cannot do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. Eddard briefly lowered his sword hand and leaned in closer to the knight. Howland had already moved to stand close by, a dagger now in hand to strike at any sudden movement.
"He shall be born beneath a bleeding star…and his shall be the song of ice and fire… a life for a life…" his mouth was foaming with blood; he gasped and pushed the words out of his throat. "Leave us…here…sacrifice…"
"I don't understand," Eddard said, confused at the words. He did not fail to notice the visible violent flinch from Howland. Another question to ask his friend for later.
"Tell Ash…sorry…" Seeing that the knight said his piece and could no longer speak, Eddard ended his life then. No man deserved to suffer the mental anguish of awaiting their death.
Both put their weapons away and looked to their fallen comrades. Eddard wanted to check up on them, hoping that perhaps one of them was still clinging to life and could be saved. But he was torn between that and finding Lyanna. Howland told him to go, while he would check on the other. Eddard thanked him and wasted no time going for the stone steps that led upwards.
"Father!" the wind around the tower whispered. He turned to look around, sure that he had just heard a child's voice calling out. There was only Howland and behind the little crannogman, sand and mountains. He continued up the stairs.
He found Lyanna in a room smelling of rotting roses and iron. His sister, once so full of life, was lying in a bed of blood, face ashen-white and drenched in sweat. His mother's face drifted in his mind. She had looked very much the same when he left her back in Winterfell.
"Ned?" She whispered weakly.
"Lyanna," He hardly noticed the others in the room, going straight for his sister.
"Is it really you? I am not dreaming?" Her eyes struggled to find him even in the lightening of the room. She raised a trembling hand, trying to reach him. He was right there at her side.
"It's no dream, I really am here," he took her hand and held it close, surprised at how cold and sticky it was. Blood, why was there so much blood? "I came for you."
"I've missed you, big brother." She smiled at him. The small act itself seemed to tire her out.
"And I you."
"I heard about Brandon and father… I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't."
"And Benjen…I'm so sorry. I didn't think all of this would happen. I didn't think Brandon would-..." she broke off to take a wrenching sob. The sound made his heart squeeze with pain for his sister. "I only wanted to be with him."
"Ssh, it's okay, it's okay."
"No, it's not," Suddenly she took a gasping breath and her hand tightened around his, squeezing painfully. Eddard felt his stomach knot with anxiety.
"Where is the maester?" Was there even a maester here? Why was there so much blood? Someone needed to stop the bleeding. "Bring me a maester!"
"Ned, listen to me. Listen to me!" He looked to his sister, swallowing down the lump that had formed at her desperate cry. When did Lyanna ever sound so weak? "His name is…'' he could barely hear the name she whispered. Before he could ask her who that was, she continued. "If Robert finds out, he will kill him. You know he will. You have to protect him."
"Protect who?" As if answering his question, the cries of a babe sounded from the room. A woman, how long had she been there?, came forward with a newborn wrapped in a blanket. It had wisps of dark hair on his head. He understood now who the name belonged to and what she was asking of him.
"I'll keep both of you safe. Hide you away, from Robert, from everyone. I will raise the banners to protect you."
"No, I've already caused so much death. I do not want anyone to die for me any longer. But my child, Ned, he is innocent," tears trickled down her pale cheeks, like wax leaking from a candle. "Promise me, Ned," she said. "Promise me."
Eddard remembered the sight of the Targaryen children in the Throne Room. Dragonspawn. Robert's voice echoed through his head. I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on. Rhaenys, stabbed beyond recognition. Aegon, only a few chunks of flesh. He felt physically ill even now when he thought about the two children wrapped in Lannister red. He would never let that happen to Lyanna or her child.
"I promise."
"Tell him… about me. I want him to know that both me and Rhaegar loved him. That we both waited for him. Promise me."
"You can tell him yourself," he said, wiping at her tears. More continued to flow down, wetting his fingers.
She shook her head. "No… I'm going to die…I don't want to die. I'm scared." There was fear in her eyes, fear that he had never seen before in his wild sister. Had Brandon felt such fear before his death as well? Had Benjen? His vision blurred as the thought came to mind.
"You are not going to die," he had to force out the words to reassure both her and himself. Lyanna was the strongest person he knew. She would pull through. She was only tired from childbirth.
"My bones, Ned… Winterfell. I want to be with everyone…not here. I want to go home. Promise me," her voice had become as faint as a whisper, and her eyes fluttered with effort to stay open.
"I promise," the words came out of him like a sob.
The fear left her then. The tension in her body was lifted. She smiled and gave his hand a final squeeze with the last of her strength.
"Lyanna?" He whispered. He received no answer. He could no longer hear her heartbeat or her breathing.
Lyanna was gone. He lost his last remaining family.
He had not cried when news of father and Brandon came, he was furious. This means war, he swore to himself that he would slay Aerys. Neither had he cried as Benjen lay dead in his arms. A battle was still ongoing around him, his men awaited his instructions, I have to fight. When he received the raven of his mother's passing, he hadn't even stopped to think about it. I have a siege to break. Now the war was done, he would find his sister and take her back to Winterfell where they could finally mourn their family together. It was this that kept him going all these months.
But Lyanna died. It was only him. His entire family was gone.
Father, mother, Brandon, Benjen, Lyanna.
He cried as held onto his sister's corpse, horrible, body-rattling sobs that shuddered through him. He refused to let go of her even as he was pulled by Howland and the wetnurse. Later, he could not remember much of what happened after his sister died or how he managed to even stand. It was all blotched out in black.
He vaguely knew that he and Howland had pulled stones from the tower to make eight cairns for the dead combatants. He laid both the Northmen and the Kingsguard upon the ridge close by. He wanted to take them back home with him, to the North where they belonged. But Howland told him it was impossible. They could hardly transport themselves and a babe, how could they bring with them the bodies of their fellows.
They had been seven against three, yet only two lived to tell the story.
Howland said some words of prayer for the dead and afterwards they rode to Starfall to return Dawn to its rightful place. The blade seemed to weigh heavier than Ice. It burned through his clothes and into his flesh, constantly keeping him aware of the man it once belonged to.
They were greeted by a stony-faced Lord Dayne, who knew that his son was dead by the mere fact that his blade was with Eddard. "I must thank you, Lord Stark. Had it been anyone else, they might have claimed it for themselves as the spoils of war." He said, welcoming them into his home and generously allowing them to rest and resupply. If he had any suspicions about the babe they brought with them, he did not show it.
Eddard slept a dreamless sleep from the afternoon straight until the next morning. A servant woke him up and told him that the Lady Ashara wished to speak with him. He dressed in his beaten-up doublet and wrapped his cloak tight around him like a shield. He knew he would have to face the sister of the man he had just killed.
The lady waited for him in the sunroom. It overlooked a garden filled with colorful trees and flowers. She stood facing the large glass window, a wooden box tightly clutched to her stomach. When she heard his steps, she turned around to face him.
She was thinner than he remembered. The black mourning robes hung off around her once voluptuous frame. Her raven dark was pulled back in a tight braid, adding harshness to her fair face. Her skin was pale and clammy and bags were heavy under her eyes. Grief weighed heavily on her shoulders, making her hunch forward as she closed the distance between them.
The beautiful maid whom he'd twirled around the lively feast of Harrenhal was no more. She is another one taken by the war.
"My lady," he greeted her.
"Lord Stark," she returned simply. There was no hatred in her voice or eyes, only sadness. Like her brother's, like his own. He wondered if she too knew about the lies the war was based on.
"Your brother," he started, unsure if he should tell her this, but decided he owed it to Ser Arthur to pass on his final words. "You were the person he thought of last. He wanted you to know that he was sorry."
She said nothing, only cradled the box tighter to her breast.
"He served his prince until his last breath, my lady," hoping it would ease some of her pain. He knew that it wouldn't; what sister would want to hear about how their brother chose to honor his friend over family?
"The two of them were always close, even in their secrets," she finally said, voice resigned. "It seems fitting that my brother would end up so soon with his dear friend."
Eddard did not know what more to say to her, but he did not have to, she continued herself. "I did not call you here to speak of my brother or Rhaegar. I wanted to give you this," she held out the box she had been cradling since he stepped inside.
Dyanna Dayne, the engraved name read. The realization of what he was holding suddenly washed over him and his eyes whipped up to hers.
"Go, take her," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "A wolf belongs in Winterfell with the snows, not here in Dorne in the hot desert. Promise me you will lay her to rest with Brandon."
Promise me. Promise me.
More promises for him to keep. More promises that might be broken.
"I promise," and just like with Lyanna, once the words left his lips, all the fear and pain washed away from Ashara's face. She could be at peace now, knowing that her daughter would be buried alongside her father. If only she could join them. But no, her place was here, and so was her death.
"Thank you."
Ashara turned away without a backwards look towards her daughter's bones or the man who slew her brother.
Eddard learned of her suicide later. She had flung herself from a tower. "Because of Stark," the whispers said.
When he returned home, his wife was there to greet him. For a moment, he hated that it was not his mother that was standing in the place of the Lady of Winterfell, but some strange woman he barely knew. He shook away those feelings, it was unfair to blame Catelyn for something that was so out of her control.
Catelyn was bundled up tightly in furs, with a polite smile on her face. He remembered the raven he received about her stillbirth, and it reminded him of the little box he'd hidden amongst his belongings. Am I so shameful? It asked.
No, he answered, but I have no other choice.
Eddard tried to smile at his wife, wondering if she could hear the voice of the little girl as well. Catelyn was supposed to be Brandon's after all, and she had been quite besotted with him even as a young girl. Yet his brother's regards for her was in the carriage, heavily lying next to her husband.
She seemed to perk up when her smile was returned, but it instantly disappeared when Eddard stepped out of the carriage with a newborn babe in his arms. She greeted him in a stilted tone, eyes flickering to the bundle.
Eddard knew what he would do next would dishonor both Catelyn and himself for the rest of their marriage. He had already made his decision.
Promise me, Ned.
"His name is Jon," he said loudly so all in the courtyard could hear him. He looked straight into her eyes as he spoke. "He is my son."
As expected, Catelyn was incensed. He did not blame her, nor did he expect her to accept Jon. He had insulted their marriage vows and brought shame onto her. She was well in her right to hate him. Family, Duty, Honor, were her House words. He, too, had a duty to his family and a duty to honor the promises he made. He could only resolve to treat her better in the future.
(Deep within himself, he tucked away the whimsical fantasy he had about the two of them living happily together with Lyanna's boy and Brandon's girl. They would be a family of four who would only continue to grow. It was a sweet dream.)
[1] Sack of King's Landing, wiki. ~ narrated by Tywin Lannister ~ narrated by Robert Baratheon ~ narrated by Maester Luwin ~ narrated by Viserys Targaryen
According to wiki, Robert stayed behind after the Trident because he was too injured to ride and only came to King's Landing after everything was done with. For story's sake, he arrives only a few hours behind Ned, so while Ned was busy riding around the town, trying to save what people he could, Robert caught up and he arrives to the Red Keep after Jaime is off from the throne. It's around this same time frame that Elia and the children are killed and brought into the Throne Room.
[2] I know Ice is a ceremonial sword and GRRM said that Ned never used it in battle because it's literally impossible to do so with a 6ft long blade that is near as tall as a grown man. But damn, Ice is too freaking cool not to be used in battle and with the way this story is going it wouldn't have the chance to be forged into two different usable blades, which means Ice would remain just hanging around. So it's now reduced to normal size.
In the show, Arthur Dayne is shown wielding two swords, and I've read a couple of fics where he's also a two-sword style kinda guy, so I thought that was the case. But after reading the scenes in the book and his wiki page, I realized that's only show-verse, and quite a lot of people were annoyed with the two-styled thing.
Also, it's never said who gave Ned the location of the Tower, some say Benjen or Ashara. I don't know…I kinda left it out as well.
[3]This scene was inspired by Meera's quote about her father:
Bran: Did he have green dreams like Jojen?
Meera: No, but he could breathe mud and run on leaves, and change earth to water and water to earth with no more than a whispered word. He could talk to trees and weave words and make castles appear and disappear. [aSoS, Bran II]
This might just be fancy wording or exaggerations, but Howland is a sus character who happened to visit a sus place right before things start to fall apart. In this scene, he definitely did something (even I'm not sure yet) to kill Arthur, even though he was so far away. SPOILER FOR HotD? : I also thought about Alys Rivers of Harrenhal and that messenger she killed from afar, whether it was magic or a weapon, who knows. The same goes for Howland, it could have been magic, it could have been a crannogman trick. It's from Ned's pov and he isn't sure how either and soon he 'forgets' about it.
About Lyarra Stark: Her birth date and death date are very vague. Birth listed as between 215AC - 250Ac, and she's already dead by the start of the series. It's never said (to my knowledge) whether she died before or after the Rebellion, and I think it's only in fanfic where she died giving birth to Benjen since wiki doesn't say anything. I wanted to add more magical elements to the fic and giving Lyarra green dreams seemed like a good chance. Greenseers are said to have shorter lives, so I want her to die at a young age. Therefore, Lyarra is born in 248AC, making her 14 years old when Brandon is born and 33 when she dies in 281AC. Ned learns of her death after he breaks the siege of Storm's End.
About Benjen: Yes, I killed him off. I have more to work with when he's dead than if he's kept alive. (I would also have to scratch my head about what happens to him during the time he disappears Beyond the Wall.)
About Rebellion: I am aware that there are so many theories about massive conspiracies about the real motives behind the Rebellion. What was the real reason behind the Tourney? Did Jon Arryn already have plans for something besides protecting his wards? What did Rickard Stark's southron ambitions have to do with it? But I'm a simple girl with a simple mind. I can't pull off such conspiracies so I'm keeping it at a simple, face-value reason: Rhaegar 'kidnaps' Lyanna - Brandon and Rickard death - demand for Ned and Bob B = Rebellion. Maybe later I will add some spice, but for now this is it.
About Brandon/Catelyn: From Cat's pov, he was sweet and wild, and she was in love with him as any young maiden would be. From Barbrey Dustin we learn that Brandon didn't want the marriage at all. That might have just been Barbrey's opinion since she loved Brandon and despised Catelyn for taking him (and Winterfell). I am going with Barbrey's opinion here since I think Brandon is the type who would want to find his own woman instead of marrying some girl his father chose. Plus, the fact that he maintained a relationship with Barbrey despite being betrothed to Catelyn since she was 12, that Grrm said that there might be little Brandon Snows running around, and that Ashara's stillborn child might have actually been Brandon's (according to many fan theories) says a lot about the regard he had for Catelyn. I actually think Catelyn and him might have grown to dislike each other if they did end up getting together. She's already salty about a single bastard, even when she and Ned are so lovey-dovey, how then would she deal with wild Brandon who enjoyed seeing the blood of maidens on his... sword. Dude definitely had other women besides Barbrey and definitely would have had more after Catelyn.
Author Notes: Now that Robb is younger and I'm going with the books more than the show, Richard Madden cannot be him. So, I've been thinking of Eddard Stark as Richard Madden and it just makes me want to see him sad when writing out Eddard scenes.