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"Tis always horrid to see such things." Lord Jon Aran, Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East, sighed as he listened to the woman's wails across the valley." For one so young..."
There was something about watching a mother bury her own child that seemed to burn into the visions of a man for the rest of his life.
It was something that no man should ever get used to seeing.
The mourners, simple farmers, and sheep herders walked silently through the mountainous hills outside his ancestral home of the ancient stronghold, the Eyrie. But the wails of broken hearts and the cries of a devastated family could be heard from miles around.
A simple accident, he had been told. A small child playing somewhere he shouldn't be had significantly fallen from a great height and smashed his little body against the rocks. His heart ached for the boys' parents; the familiar pain of losing a young child brought back painful memories he had long thought he had put to rest.
He turned to look at the sight of his ward next to him, the second son of Lord Stark, staring unblinkingly at the horrid picture in front of him. Of course, no boy so young should be allowed to watch such a thing, but something deep in Jon's mind told him that the young northerner needed to see this. So, like a whisper from a voice he knew not of, the Lord of the vale spoke to the younger man, the northern lordling taking the words in like a student would to an honored teacher.
They watched silently as the small black coffin, little more than a simple pinewood box, lowered to the ground. Lord Arryn preyed silently to himself, preying on the Seven that is one, that the child would find peace in the next world after it was taken from this one.
"No parent should have to bury their children..." the old Lord said as they lowered the young child's body, a boy no more than four years, into the ground." Tis unnatural.."
"I won't let you do this, Robert." The voice of the young northern Lord broke through the stunned silence and whispered confusion of the Red Keep. The blood of the mad king had not been thoroughly cleaned off the floor before the assembled lords cried out for more Targaryen blood to be spilled." You are not to lay a finger on any of them, or you will regret it."
Lord Eddard Stark, warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, stood firm and tall as he watched the form of his friend, his brother in all ways but blood, staring at him with death in his eyes. Eddard shifted his body, instinct compelling him to stand between the storm lord's towering form and those who had become the cause of his rage.
The Dornish woman behind him clutched the crying infant in her arms to her bosom as she forced the young girl to hug at the hem of her dress behind her, shielding the young princess Rhaenys from the sight of the demon of the trident screaming for her blood.
"You dare!" the man spoke, his voice like thunder as he descended from the iron thrown like an angry god preparing to raise a castle to rubble, whatever token guard Eddard had brought with him unsheathing their swords as they prepared for the worst." You dare to tell me what I can and can't Do?! To a dragon spawn!"
The word left his foster brother's mouth as if they were poison, the hatred and vile filling the statement enough to cause the woman behind Eddard to flinch and hold her children tighter to her body. The princess had suffered enough for a lifetime. Eddard didn't want to imagine what could have transpired to the woman or her children if he had been just a few hours too late to stop the sacking of the capital.
No parent should have to bury their children...
"You of all people should Know!" the colossal man bellowed, his anger like the rock and stone of his homeland, unmoving and unyielding to those around him. "You, of all people, should hate what they are!"
Nothing more than Scared women and children and those who had the unfortunate luck of being related to madmen.
Eddard hated the men who took his family. He hated the system that allowed such travesties and what he had to do even to ensure a slight chance for justice to be met. But those men were dead, and if justice meant putting everyone with Targarian blood to the sword, then Eddard was willing to live the rest of his days without that price being paid.
Yet far too many men and women had to bury their sons and daughters already, and many children would grow up without mothers and fathers. Eddard felt the comforting weight of the sword slung to his hip as he watched Robert take another step closer to those Eddard swore to protect.
"They are children." The northerner said, his ice-like grey eyes surveying the lords and ladies in attendance with a critical eye. The South liked to view themselves as far more enlightened than their Northern neighbors. But all Eddard saw was men and women too weak-willed to stand up for innocent children." Whose only crime is that they share blood with dead men who cannot pay for their crimes."
The room grew. Still, each set of eyes watched as the hands of Robert Baratheon reached for the pommel of his war hammer, the threat of violence and promises of blood hanging heavy in the air.
Eddard looked to his foster father, the man who had raised him and Robert both, for reassurance only to find nothing but fear and hesitation filled the face of Lord of the Vale.
No father should have to see their children die...
"You are to protect the princess and her children with your life." Eddard called back, the vast forms of the Umber and Mormount patriarchs shadowing the slight and thin Martell Princess, like twin oak trees protecting a flower bed from a great storm." I want her watched by at least a hundred men every hour of every day."
The Lord of bear island nodded, his grizzled and scared face looking grim as he personally escorted the woman and her children to her apartments. Eddard stared at the two dark eyes of the woman as she passed him. Her face was stained with tears and blood, but she stood as unbent and unbroken as she did when he first saw her all those years ago in Herenthal.
She lowered her eyes as she pressed her daughter closer to herself, not saying a word but conveying much to the young northern Lord.
It unsettled him.
His sister was dead.
Even now, staring down at the cold body that once belonged to his younger sister, it still didn't fully cross Eddards' mind that she was gone forever. A small part of him was still expecting to see the young woman shoot upwards from her dreamless sleep, gasping for breath as she did in childhood, swimming in the ponds of the Godswood.
But Eddard knew the same little girl he had secretly gifted a training sword on her fifth name day against their father's wishes. The same girl he always let beat him in horse races and who loved the smell of winter roses was never coming back.
Eddard feared a tiny part of him had died with her.
"Promise me, Ned."
Ned turned to the side, the quiet cry of a newborn breaking him out of the dark thoughts that threatened to swallow him whole. With his full cheeks and grey eyes, his nephew stared at him with a blank look on his soft face, almost as if he too, was expecting Lyana to awaken from her endless sleep and embrace him with the Mother's love every child deserved to feel.
"Not nephew," Ned corrected himself as he lifted the babe from its crib. Small little pools of grey, like smoke drifting off a lake after a storm meeting the steel and iron of the eyes who had seen too much death in misery to last a lifetime." His son."
Ned swallowed hard as if realizing what he was about to do was almost too much to verbalize. Treason beyond the realms of sovereignty or rulership but of the bounds of blood and brotherhood. This child was the living embodiment of all he had lost. His father, brother, sister, friends, countrymen, and thousands of innocent people were dragged into the Game of Thrones because of the unfortunate position they were born into.
But gods above him, as ned stared longer into the eyes of his sister's child, the more Ned felt his desire to protect the child grow in him like a burning inferno.
"Promise me, Ned."
I'm sorry, lord Stark." A voice broke ned out of his thoughts. The Lord of Winterfell turned around slowly to not frighten the child in his arms, eyeing the knight in front of him with a critical eye as the sword of the morning entered the nursery." I hope we are not interrupting?"
The three men entered the room, silent despite their gilded armor and sheathed swords. Ned was somewhat thankful that their presence did not cause his son to squirm in neds arms. Still, the thought remained that the three men in front of him were armed, and if the desire to harm him had crossed their minds, he would be unable to stop them.
But I would try, he thought to himself as he placed the baby boy back into his crib, staring down into Lyannas grey eyes one more time before he turned to face the three men.
He had half expected to meet his death under the Dornish sun at the tower of joy, the name almost mocking him as he saw the glimpse of his sister's cold body lying peacefully on the bed beside him. However, one did not cross blades against the famed sword of the morning without coming to terms with one's mortality, and Ned had long since gotten over the fear of dying at the hands of another man.
A violent death was worth protecting his family.
" I see the little prince is awake," Arthur said with a small smile. Despite the lord commander of the king's guards to his left, Sir Arthur took the lead in speaking to Eddard. Perhaps the famed swordsman still saw Ned as the good brother he could have had if things had gone differently. Or maybe Ned was looking too deep into the actions of the men he had mentally prepared himself to kill since he left for Dorne nearly a week ago."You have my thanks for what you've done. But, unfortunately, this war had taken its toll on you more than the average man.
His words did little to soothe Ned's paranoia as the northern Lord stared intently into the eyes of the three men before him. Were they trying to give him comfort? Could they even imagine what he was feeling at this moment? A voice in the back of Ned's head felt insulted at their words, but it was quiet. He was not the only person to have suffered in this war, and the moment he internalized the trauma of the conflict as his and his alone, was the moment he erased the pain felt by all the realm.
"We have all felt the pains of war," Ned said as he kept between the men before him with the babe behind him. "Too many men have died for me to selfishly horde it to himself."
The three men in front of Ned shifted in their place as if relief had replaced the emotionless mak they made themself wear the moment the groups met one another outside the deserted tower.
"I admit I had thought the letter from Princess Elia was a forgery," the lord commander Gerald Hightower said as he stared at Eddard with a look that spoke of respect and great regret. The white bull was as tall and muscular as his foster brother Robert. Still, he felt far older than even the white of his beard and hair testified. "But the man I see before me is a man worthy of all that is said about him."
"Princess Elia is a kind woman, but I fear she is far more kind in her words than I deserve," Eddard said as he finally shifted away from his son's crib, the tension that had filled the room since the king guard's arrival vanishing in but a moment. "I did what any man would have done."
No parent should need to bury their child, and no child should be forced to grow up without a mother's love.
"We know that's not true." Sir Whent, the black bat of Herenthal, said with a knowing smile. Ned said nothing as the maternal uncle of his new wife stared at him, a myriad of emotions crossing the older man's dark blue eyes." Not many men would do what you did."
A blink of an eye was all it took to bring Eddard back to the bedroom, the sounds of screaming women and children enough to haunt him until the day he took his last breath. Ned had never had the makings of a master swordsman, or at least he thought so. He had always lived in the shadows of those around him, first by his brother Brandon in Winterfell and then by Robert in the Vale. They were bombastic and charismatic in ways that a master or a book couldn't teach. A natural skill that someone has to be born with and Ned was not born with it.
He had long since grown accustomed to being overlooked and took great pleasure in seeing the shock of those who assumed they were more skilled than he in a fight.
Ned had seen quite a few men make it the last mistake they ever made during this war.
So when the giant man's head was separated from his shoulders, his vast and grotesque body sounding like a cow covered in iron being tipped over, the remaining Lannister men had lost their spirit, tossing their swords and begging for mercy before the rest of Eddards men had entered the apartments.
But whether the man was speaking of how Eddard had ordered his armies to protect Kingslanding and put the rioting to an end or how Eddard had saved the lives of Elia and her children, Ned didn't know. But before he could ask, Sir Arthur raised his hand to stop whatever words Eddard was preparing himself to say.
"A letter from my brother."Sir Arthur said, handing the sealed parchment and untouched sigil on the violet wax. "I assure you, it would be an honor to house you and your men at Starfall for all you have done."
Eddard said nothing, only staring down at the slip of parchment and rereading its words repeatedly until they stopped having meaning in his mind.
"I'm sure my sister would welcome you into our home as well." The sword of the morning said, his words carrying a hidden meaning that made the northern Lord feel as if he lost his footing." She has mentioned how close you became in Herenthal."
The feeling Ned felt in the Red Keep when Princess Elia looked at him came rushing back, and for once in his life, Eddard Stark, Lord Winterfell and traitor to the crown, didn't know what he would do next.
"Who will you name as the boy's mother?"
The question came suddenly, but Ned could say the words had been on the woman's mind since he arrived at Starfall with his men and the knights of the Kingsguard. Their arrival was greeted with subdued respect, far more than he expected he would receive from the people of Dorne after the blood of their countrymen he had spilled just weeks prior. He held a suspicion it was Ashara that was the reason for that, but he could not be sure.
"I haven't thought of it." Ned said honestly that his decisions felt heavier on his shoulders than they did just a day ago when he decided what he would do." I fear these past few weeks have been distracting."
The woman laughed, a small and sad smile as she walked towards him. They were alone, not for the first time since his arrival at Starfall, something he knew for a fact was Asharas doing this time. Ned wasn't many things, but he could always tell When Ashara wanted him to know something.
She wrapped her arms around him, her small white hands clasping around his chest as she leaned in and pressed her cheek into his back. The sensation of soft skin and warm fingers was equally comforting for the young man as it was terrifying and painful for him to experience. In another life, where things had been different, they could have been man and wife, a thought that made his heart ache the more he thought of it. But thinking of what ifs and what could have been would do him no good now, not with the reality of his current situation.
"We could run away together." she whispered into his ear, dreams and promises of a future together dangling in front of him like a ripened apple just out of reach of his hand." All you have to do is say yes, and we can be halfway to Essos before anyone even realizes it."
A part of him wanted to say yes, the same naive and doe-eyed lordling he was before all the death and pain that had filled his days. He never wanted Winterfall. He never wanted the glory of battle or the power of being the Stark of Winterfell enrolled. That was always for Brandon. He was the second son, the spare, who was just there to support his betters and someone who always wanted to be selfish for once and do what he wanted to do for a change.
Not because it was Brandon's idea and not because he had to follow Robert, but because he wished it. But that boy had died long ago, not taken a breath since he first heard of his father's and brother's death or his sister's abduction.
A man couldn't just do what he wanted, not when he had responsibilities to uphold. He had a duty to the men who followed him into war, the families they left behind, and those who would need to go on without their fathers, brothers, or sons.
He had a family to consider: a wife he did not know and a son he had yet to meet.
Ned looked down to the form of the sleeping babe, His Son in all but blood making him feel like his heart and mind were ripping his body asunder as they battled for dominance.
"You know I can't do that." Ned said as he unclasped the woman's hands from his chest, turning around to see her haunting purple eyes shine up at him like he was the only thing that mattered." Not after everything I have done. Everything is different now."
She said nothing, only offering him another smile as she leaned into his chest, hugging him with all the strength her lith body could hold. For a moment, Ned was transported back to the day he had met the woman. Her captivating smile and coy laughter were stuck in his head when she left his vision and remained so until he saw her again.
But he could not do that to Caitlyn, a woman he had promised himself to and who was as much of a pawn as Ned himself.
"Then I will go with you to the North." She said defiantly, her voice offering no room for negotiation or disagreement." I will never leave your side again."
Ned could do nothing but limply wrap his own arms around the woman, the growing pain in his heart growing with each breath the woman took in his arms.
"Besides, Elia can't be the only Dornish woman in the north." The coy smile returned, and for a moment, the young boy that Ned had been those short years ago had returned. "It would be quite the scandal otherwise."
Ned had returned to the Red Keep less than an hour ago when he had been summoned to the throne room.
Fortunately, Howland Reed and Sir Authur never left his side. Still, even their presence gave the Lord of Winterfell much comfort as he walked through the blood-red halls of the former home of the Targaryen dynasty.
The only thing that gave him solace was his sister's son, and his dragon kin had already left the city with the Dornish women in his protection. Even if his deception had been discovered, he doubted having thousands of his men acting as sentries would make the children a so-favorable target. But if his secrets were in the open, as he feared they were, then the realm would be thrown into yet another bloody war. This meant more children growing up without fathers and mothers who outlived their children.
If he was to meet his death this day, he would be far more willing to do it alone than with the men at his back. But Howland Reed was not a man who would throw away his friendship over something as petty as death, nor was Sir Aurthor the type of man who could be cowed by a man who ordered the death of children.
But those thoughts died in Eddards throat before he could speak the moment he stepped into the throne room, the Lord and ladies in attendance paying him no mind as the former queen of the seven kingdoms stood motionless in the center, as regal and queenly as any woman in this world had the right to be with what she had suffered through.
Rhaella Targaryen, the former queen of the seven kingdoms, stood in the throne room, looking as if a dragon was given a human form as she stared at the men surrounding her. Whatever pride the woman had left in her body did not allow herself to shrink from their gaze. Instead, her hate and distaste were so palpable Eddard could almost taste it.
A babe was at her breast, and the former Targaryen Queen held her third and last child with the protectiveness and fierceness of the creature her family had borne on its sigil. A fierceness that made many men in attendance step back when her eyes turned to them.
A mother will do everything she can to ensure her child's life.
So fierce was the woman that Eddard didn't notice the boy at first, but Prince Viserys saw him. His large purple eyes widened in horror with each step ned came closer to him and his Mother, Viserys Small hands grasping his Mother's dress just a little tighter than he did a moment ago.
Robert looked at him as if Ned was a stranger, the grief and rage he shared with his foster brother an hour ago over Lyanna's death was gone, replaced with the fury of a king who had been denied his revenge.
"Since the good Lord Stark is keen on protecting the family that murdered his own." his foster brother spoke, his words like a dagger to Eddards heart, another fresh wound to the pain he felt down to his soul." So it would only be fair to give you a choice in taking these unfortunate souls in before I make my final decision regarding their punishments."
The room erupted into hushed whispers and talks of soft men not being brave enough to do what was needed in times of war. "Big words," Eddard thought, from men who had yet to fight in a battle nor men who would pick up a sword to defend children. Only then did Eddard notice the forms of many of Roberts's men at arms, their armor polished and their blades sharp.
Eddard stared hard at his king, his brother by choice and the man he was willing to die and kill to ensure his seat on the throne. At that moment, he could feel the stare of all in the room on him, the lords and ladies who whispered to the former king's guard behind him, readying his swords.
But Eddards eyes never wavered from Roberts. Instead, he answered without a word, stepping forward to the former queen and bending low to be the same height as the young Prince before he offered the boy his hand.
The only sound in the room seemed to be the shuffling of metal and the blaze of the midday torches as Prince Viserys, a boy no older than eight, took the Lord of Winterfell's hand in his own. The northerner rose to his feet, smiling softly as he offered his free hand to the boy's Mother. The woman stared at Ned, and for a moment, Ned wondered if that was how the Andals pictured the Mother, one of the seven that are one, or so he'd been told. He also wondered how his Mother would look at him regarding where his life had ended up.
But Ned was far too tired to worry about the emotions of ghosts. He knew he had seen enough death to last him a lifetime and that the woman before him didn't deserve this public indignity put on her shoulders while she was with child.
If he could help even as little as he could, he would.
The former queen said nothing, looking less like a dragon and more like a sly and overly cautious ally cat as she stared at him.
A woman born and whose life was spent within the confines of the red keep and the capital city would look at the utter foolishness of a man who would so willingly protect an enemy. He could read a look of a woman who had grown tired of men, including the fool of the man in front of her at the moment.
But he could also see a fire burn behind her eyes, a burning defiance to live in a world filled with people who wanted her dead out of spite.
But he also saw the burning passion of a mother who would do anything to save her son and her newborn child. But if Ned was honest, he could also see the same look in many people's eyes since he fought this war. The burning desire to live a life without compromise and the ability to raise her children without the fear of death. He couldn't offer her much, but he could at least give her that.
It was said that Songs of how the wolf bore not a single word to the stag were sung before the last northerner left the Crownlands. It was later said to be the favored song in Kingslanding Taverns until the hand of the king outlawed the music one year later.
"Is this all snow?" the young girl said, her tiny body bundled in so many layers of wool and fur she looked more like a snow fox than a little girl. Her small rabbit-skin gloved hands reached out tentatively as she caught a falling snowflake. "It's so cold."
Ned smiled as he walked alongside the young girl, her big brown eyes bouncing across the pure white forest bed. The quiet of the snow bed made the sound of their camp and of Ned's men seem miles away, even though Ned could see the smoke of their campfire just above the tree line.
It felt odd being back in the north after everything that had happened. It was the closest he had been to home in years, not seeing a proper northern snowfall since he was a young boy, just a few years older than the little girl beside him right now.
"The North is always a bit colder this time of the year than the other seven kingdoms, princess." Ned said as he kneeled where the girl was crouching, seeing a new snowshoe hare catching the young Targaryens' attention." Once you get used to it, it can be beautiful in its own way."
The girl smiled, her Dornish features and dark complexion looking almost supernatural under her snow-covered cloak. It had been almost a month since the rebellion had officially ended and nearly a month since the former princess of Westeros and her family had been under the protection of Lord Stark.
"Don't run off too far from the camp." Ned spoke, his deep northern voice stopping young Rhaenys in her pursuit of the snow hare." Your Mother would have my head if you were to get lost."
The young girl skurried closer to him, either from his words or the fear that her Mother would be displeased with him because of her. Ned didn't know. Rhaenys looked up at him and smiled, her face contrasting to the girl who was too frightened of her nightmares to sleep these past few weeks. Ned felt his lips curl at the thought, the image of the young girl crying into the night, begging for him to remain with her, his presence the only thing that seemingly kept the nightmares away. It had certainly made the trip from kings landing that much harder, but it seemed worth it if it meant Rhaenys didn't fear her own shadow.
He remembered the sound of her cries the night before he left to end the siege of storms end, her screams of horror that echoed throughout the blood-stained halls of the Red Keep. Night terrors were common for anyone who experienced what she did, especially a child. Still, Eddard had long since come accustomed to the pain and fear that kept a person up at night.
He stayed with her until dawn, not sleeping a wink until the sun shined over the city, a calm night of sleep for the young girl worth more to him than any form of Roberts "justice" ever could.
"Mother will never be mad at you."Rhaenys said as she placed her small hand into Ned's larger one." No one could be mad at you."
Ned gave the girl a small and sad smile, but he hoped the young child couldn't see the truth of his emotions. The girls' Mother was... another issue he would have to deal with soon enough, an issue that he feared Ashara would only exasperate in her particular way.
Here he was going home to meet his new wife and newborn son, with a bastard son and a former lover claiming to be his Mother, and a healing and traumatized princess with her two children, who refuse to leave his presence out of their own fear of the outside world.
The less said about the former queen, the better, the Targaryen matriarch showing little shame in her growing closeness to the northern Lord.
He doubted even Brandon, had he been alive, would have found himself in such a compromising situation.
"Will we be far from Kingslanding?" The young princess asked, her tiny voice echoing against the snow." Will we be far away from those bad men?"
Ned dropped to his knee, placing his shaking hands firmly onto the young girl's shoulder as he stared deeply into her eyes. Even now, the girl's fears seemed fresh and palpable, as if she feared every corner she walked past and every shadow she couldn't see. The men who had attacked her and her Mother, who would have broken the skull of her baby brother like an egg against the wall and would have done things to her that should anger the gods themselves, still haunted the dreams of Mother and daughter alike.
And Ned would do everything in his power to help them.
"Winterfell is an ancient fortress. One that has never been conquered."Ned said, his voice almost a whisper as he spoke to the girl." And if those men even try to come for you. If they even think about it, then ill be there to protect you, your Mother, and your brother."
Ned remembered the bloodied face of the giant as Ice carved through plate and bone. He remembered the look of fear and hatred of the giants' accomplice, a knight whose Manticore helm rested at his feet as he tried to use the young girl as a shield, as Eddard sliced the hand that held the dagger to Rhaenys little throat. If only he had been faster and quicker, he could have been there before the men had even gotten to their apartments.
It was just another in the long list of things Ned would regret for the rest of his life.
"Do you promise?" The young girl asked, her deep black curls hiding her big brown eyes from Eddards vision. She was trembling, but not from the cold." Do you promise to protect Momma and Aegon? And Aunty Ashara and grandmother and...?"
"With my life."
The girl said nothing as she leaned into Ned's chest, wrapping her tiny arms around as much of Ned's chest as she could. Ned placed a hand on her head, resting his chin on the top of the girl's head as he allowed her to let tears slip from her eyes. She was trembling now, and for a moment, the two just stood there, the only sounds besides the soft falling of snow being the muffled sobs of a scared little girl who desperately wanted to feel safe again.
"Lord Stark!" the voice of Viserys broke Ned out of his thoughts, the young boy running hard towards them with his face red and his breath visible. "The lake is frozen over! How on earth are we to fish!"
Ned chuckled to himself, his promise to the young Prince when they stopped for the day to make camp coming to his mind. The quiet and solemn boy had rarely left his Mother's side during the journey, only indeed coming out of his shell one night in front of the fire pit as Ned told him stories of the long night and the children of the forest, tales both the princess Rhaenys and Viserys seemingly ate up with the velocity of a dire wolf.
How a prince would feel excitement over a simple matter of fishing was beyond his understanding, but here the boy was. In only a matter of days, Young Viserys already reminded Ned of Benjen, something that seemingly awoke something inside of Ned he didn't fully understand.
"Indeed. This is why I will show you how we in the north ice fish, even in the coldest and darkest of winters." Ned spoke, less like the Lord he was supposed to be." As long as your mothers agree to it."
The two children ran off to the camp, the older boy grabbing his niece's hand as they hopped in and out of the snow, less like children and looking far more like rabbits in the snow.
The boy was young, barely in his eighth year of life, but already had the markings of his older brother, Rheager, or so Sir Arthur had said. Ned didn't know how to feel about those words, feeling the need to walk on eggshells regarding his grief regarding the women and children under his care and protection.
But he had shed his tears long ago. He cried until his eyes were as dry as the Dornish deserts and emptied whatever anger and resentment he held in the battles he had fought and the men he had killed until his arms and heart were numb to the emotion. He hoped he had moved on, for the children's sake more than his own.
But, whatever came of this act of mercy, he would need to deal with its consequences, good or bad. He could only pray to the old gods that Caitlyn would forgive him for his decision. Despite the situation, he had promised her that he would honor their marriage and intended to do just that, even if it killed him in the process.
So, I went through some shit a few months ago and decided to pour a bunch of my negative emotions onto Eddard Stark. This is weirdly personal, so if something doesn't make sense, that's probably the reason. Not much of a story here, but more of an experiment to allow me to put my thoughts in a semi-coherent and physical way. Ned Stark and those left brutalized by the war's outcome deserved better, but I actively hate Targayreon wank fic so I wrote this instead.
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