Disclaimer- This is a work of fan fiction using characters from George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. I do not claim any ownership over any characters or the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. I'm only borrowing some of his characters and settings to practice fiction writing. This fanfiction story is for entertainment only, I will make no money off of it, and is not part of the official story line.
AN: I wrote this snippet a few years ago and lost it. I only recently came across it which is too bad. It follows the same theme as a 'Prince of Winterfell', but in a different way. It would have taken only a little effort to blend this story with the 'Prince of Winterfell'. It was a missed opportunity. Oh well.
Trigger warning: R+L=J, but it was rape. Rhaegar being nuts, he convinced Aerys (even more nuts) to legitimize his child with Lyanna ('his love') before riding off to battle.
Cross-posted on AO3.
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Eddard Stark, Lord of the North, handed Maester Luwin the scrolls he wanted sent by raven. Such was their importance, he insisted on seeing each of the ravens leave from the maester's turret.
He ignored his sour gut as each bird was let loose. He had a duty to both his king and to his blood. He'd see them both fulfilled, no matter the consequence.
One was a message to White Harbor, directing Lord Manderly to fortify the harbor and compelling his presence at Winterfell. A similar message was sent to Lord Umber.
Another pair of messages were sent to the Tallharts and Glovers, commanding them to fortify and man Moat Cailin under the command of his brother. Another half dozen were to surrounding lords, directing them to keep the Glovers and Tallharts well supplied and to reinforce the southernmost defense of the North if it were attacked.
Another message was sent to Howland Reed, the only one of his companions to return with him from the Tower of Joy. He was ordered to keep watch on the Neck, report suspicious movements, and support the men at Moat Cailin as needed.
More messages would be sent on the morrow. Each lord was ordered to see to their defenses. No southern armies were to enter the North, no matter whose banners they might fly.
The final messages of the evening were the hardest. One was sent to his friend, his brother in all but blood, Robert Baratheon, with a copy to Jon Arryn, their foster father. In it, he explained exactly what horrors Lyanna endured, what happened at the Tower of Joy, the identity of the babe she had him swear to protect, and the papers he'd found.
Honor required him to be honest with his friend, Lyanna's betrothed. Honor required he be honest with his king. Honor required him to keep his oath to his sister. His duty required loyalty to both his king and his blood.
His honor and duty were now in conflict. He'd have to thread the needle or be damned.
He was not afraid of how his friend would react. Robert was a man of passion, but good and noble. Robert would never harm a child.
But King Robert was a different story. King Robert would look upon dead babes and dismiss them as dragon spawn. King Robert would allow the murderers of babes to escape justice, and would reward the man who gave the orders, making his daughter Queen. Eddard Stark did not know how King Robert would react.
That made him afraid. But he would face his fears. He would not fail in his duty, no matter the consequence to himself.
Once the last raven of the evening was sent, he exited the rookery. Both Catelyn and Benjen waited on him.
To his surprise and delight, he saw Catelyn was holding Jon, comforting the fussing child. "Have the messages been sent, Ned?" Catelyn asked, her eyes filled with doubt and worry.
She'd opposed him writing to the King. She opined they should pass the child off as Benjen's bastard, and ask the King to legitimize him. Jon would pose no threat to their trueborn children as the legitimized bastard of a third son. She suggested they give him lands in the far North and make him a lord of a good holding, honoring his promise to Lyanna. She argued that the lie was better for Jon than the truth, that he was the product of a rape committed by a mad, prophecy obsessed prince.
Catelyn Stark was a woman who embodied the Tully words, "Family, Duty, Honor," he thought affectionately. She would not see her nephew, Lyanna's child, harmed, physically or emotionally. He loved her all the more for it.
Benjen had agreed with her. He thought Catelyn's plan was good. No one would doubt that he, a young man of fifteen, might father a bastard before leaving to take his vows to the Watch. Vows that Ned had forbidden him from taking until this most recent crisis had been resolved.
The Starks were too few and the risks still great. He could not lose another Stark so soon, no matter how noble the calling.
"Yes," he replied to his wife's question. "It is done. Is Robb safely in bed?" he asked. When she nodded yes, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head affectionately.
They'd quarreled about his decision. He would not live a lie or allow Lyanna's child to do so. But when he finally stated his position firmly, she'd reluctantly acquiesced. She was a good wife.
He looked at Benjen. "I've assigned a hundred Stark armsmen to you. You are to take command of Moat Cailin. Houses Glover and Tallhart will provide additional men. Resupply and reinforcement has been arranged." He clasped Benjen on the shoulder. "Can you do this?"
His brother was young, but resolute. "Always, brother."
Ned smiled in pride as he hugged his brother close. "Then you ride with the sunrise. Let none pass but by my leave."
Ned felt his heart tug in his chest as Benjen hurried away. His brother was dutiful and would spend the evening ensuring the men were ready to depart at first light.
"Come, husband," Catelyn gently commanded as she took his arm and guided him to the nursery.
Ned looked at the army of stars which spread a vast net in the Northern sky as he followed his bride. He wondered if he'd survive Robert's summons, the summons he knew would come and one that honor compelled him to obey. He wondered for how much longer he'd be able to enjoy his Northern sky.
Then as they tucked Jon in next to Robb, he wondered how long he'd be this blessed. Standing next to Catelyn, surrounded by children, the next generation of Starks.
He felt dread in his heart when he thought of Robert. Just how much was left of his friend or had he already been consumed by the crown?
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The raven summoning him and Jon to King's Landing arrived before Lord Umber and Lord Manderly. He sat it aside and waited.
It was only a matter days before Lord Manderly arrived, followed a few days later by Lord Umber. Both men had arrived with their entourages.
With them, Winterfell was close to overflowing. He'd summoned loyal men from Stark lands and the mountains to reinforce the normal garrison. They were good men, already well trained and veterans of the Rebellion.
Even if the Moat fell, even if the South forced a landing at White Harbor, even if they fielded armies too numerous to meet in open battle, the southern lords would break themselves on Winterfell's walls. And with the granaries and cellars filled to bursting, his ancestral seat would hold until the coming of winter and beyond. And then the snows would doom the armies of the South, with no Northman needing to even lift a sword.
With both lords present, he took them both to his solar, followed by Catelyn, Ser Rodrik Cassel and Maester Luwin. Manderly looked concerned while the Greatjon looked as if he'd been hunting and feasting the entire way.
Ned motioned to the two lords to take a seat, which they gladly did. Catelyn took a chair beside Ned, while Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin remained standing.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," he said nodding to Greatjon and Wyman. "I know you must have questions."
Wyman Manderly was the first to respond. "Ravens are flying, my lord. The North is consumed in rumors. It is hard not to be concerned when the reason for orders are not given."
Ned, however, avoided responding to the implied question. He instead contented himself with asking, "Have you started fortifying White Harbor?"
"Of course I have, Lord Stark," he responded, almost sounding offended.
Ned had always valued the Manderlys. They were among the most loyal of his bannermen, but sensible and direct. He knew Wyman would obey his commands, but would insist on being heard.
The Greatjon snorted. "You commanded us to fortify. There was naught to do as the Last Hearth is always fortified. Whether it be wildlings or fool southerners who come too far North, House Umber will place their heads on spikes."
And that was why Ned valued Greatjon Umber. The man was an experienced and loyal warrior, always ready to fight or feast. He didn't need a reason, he just needed to be pointed in the right direction.
As a practical matter, the Manderlys were his loyal supporters in the south of the North, just as the Umbers were in the north. With Winterfell positioned in the middle, stability would be assured in his absence and House Stark's preeminence assured.
No matter how long that war might be, he thought, considering the potential consequences if Robert's rage failed to cool.
"Good. I've been summoned to King's Landing. There is a possibility that I might be detained, or even executed." He felt Catelyn reach out and grab his hand, as Wyman and Greatjon sat up in consternation. "I don't think it likely, but I want to be prepared for any eventuality," he said, more to reassure his lady wife than any real belief in the truth of his words.
Greatjon was never a shy man. "I thought you were bosom buddies with that wee lad calling himself King! Why would he want your head?"
Ned stifled a flash of amusement at anyone referring to Robert as a 'wee lad'. From Greatjon's perspective, even the largest of men might fit that description. It was sometimes said that the Umbers bred with giants in the Age of Heroes. They'd never denied it, with even their coat of arms depicting a roaring giant.
Wyman Manderly scowled. "I'm as surprised as Lord Umber, Lord Stark. I thought King Robert viewed the North and you as steadfast allies. What has changed?"
Ned sighed. "This is not to leave the room. A child was born as a result of Rhaegar's abduction of Lyanna. She had me swear an oath to protect the boy."
Manderly's eyes sharpened. "The infant, Jon?" he asked quizzically. When Ned nodded, he leaned back as if satisfied. "There were rumors that the boy was your bastard, Lord Stark," he said with a look of apology towards Catelyn. "I didn't believe it myself, but others are more gullible."
Greatjon looked conflicted. "So the southern king wants the boy dead and might take your head to get it?" he asked. When Ned nodded again, he continued brashly, "I care nothing for the opinions of soft southern kings but why should we care for the life of a rapespawn?"
Ned understood Greatjon's perspective. It was expected that a woman would drink tansy tea at the first available opportunity, if forced by a man. If circumstances did not permit it, and a child was born, it would often be left exposed to the elements. Not many would concern themselves for the life of a child born of rape.
But the Umbers had never been content swearing allegiance to the Targaryens, soft southerners all. The only reason they hadn't rebelled when Torrhen knelt to Aegon the Conqueror was that he had dragons. Any man with sense knew that the former King in the North had saved his people - or at least his lords, their sons, and their armies - by kneeling. For those without sense, Torrhen was quick to make examples of them, storming their keeps and putting any rebels to the sword.
Ned was well aware that the Umbers' reservations to southern rule had only increased following the extinction of dragons.
Ned stared hard at the two of the lords he thought would be loyal to the bitter end. Though there were others as loyal - the Mormonts, came to mind easily - the Manderlys and Umbers were the strongest of them. If they would not follow, the rest would not either.
Some might even try to take advantage. The Karstarks were loyal, but ambitious. A clever enemy might turn that ambition against House Stark. The Boltons were strong, among the strongest, and always chaffed under his House's rule. More than most they remembered the days they were truly independent, styling themselves as the Red Kings, and contended as equals against his House.
He swallowed his nervousness and strove to keep his face still. His lord's face, Benjen had called it. "Lyanna was not like most women. Despite the circumstance of his birth, she loved the child even as he killed her. As I loved her, I cast aside my reservations and gave my oath to ease her passing. I will not be forsworn. Jon is my blood. I will fight for him as I would my own son. Will you follow me?"
Manderly and Umber exchanged a short glance and then nodded. "We are your men, Lord Stark," said the Lord of White Harbor. "If you tell us to fight, we fight. If you wish to defy Robert Baratheon, we will follow."
"The bastard is northern blood," Greatjon agreed, as casually as if he were discussing the merits of a new batch of ale. "Whether the bastard lives or dies is a matter for House Stark, not some puffed up summer knight."
Ned winced. "That's the complication, my lords. Jon is not a bastard. Prince Rhaegar could not marry Lyanna as he was already wed to Elia Martell. The High Septon would not consent to an annulment or a second marriage. But King Aerys legitimized any issue of Lyanna and Rhaegar, and the High Septon approved it as a compromise measure." He pushed the decrees across to his bannermen. Both were signed and sealed and were unequivocal in their terms. "The only limitation was that Lyanna's sons would come behind both Rhaegar trueborn sons, and her daughters would likewise come behind his trueborn daughters."
Umber laughed uproariously. "Well isn't that a bloody twist. The rapespawn is a legitimate prince. The dragons were utterly mad, the whole lot of them."
Manderlys reaction was more subdued but calculating. "That does put a different spin on it. King Robert will not be pleased to know that there is a viable contender to the throne still in Westeros."
Ned agreed with a sigh. Queen Rhaella had died in childbirth at Dragonstone, though her two children, Viserys and the infant Daenerys, had managed to slip the net and escape to Essos. He felt a begrudging respect for Ser Willem Darry. The man had stayed loyal regardless of the danger and the inducements offered to surrender his charges. Men like him were few and far between.
"Yes, it does," he acknowledged. "I intend to answer the King's summons. I will leave Jon behind, despite his command. I will not trust my blood to the child killers of the south." He looked at the two lords sternly. "I will trust my blood to you, my lords. If I do not return, you, with Benjen, are to lead the North until Robb comes of age. Catelyn, with Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin, will see to Robb and Jon's care and education. You are not to answer the King's summons or allow his men into the North."
Greatjon Umber slapped his knee approvingly. "It's about bloody time that we told those craven southerners to shove off! We knelt to dragons, not men!"
Ned was relieved that Greatjon was using 'we'. He may not care to fight for Lyanna's child, but he certainly didn't mind fighting for an independent North.
Though Ned prayed it didn't come to that. For if it did, it will have meant that he'd lose his head. Never again would he embrace Catelyn or hold the boys as they murmured contentedly against his breast.
He closed his eyes and gathered his resolve. He would not embarrass his ancestors. He would do his duty and hold true to his blood. Or die well trying.
Manderly's response was more measured. "We are only to take those measures if you fail to return, is that correct, Lord Stark?"
"Yes. I have no intention of fighting Robert unless he demands Jon's death. If he does, he's not the Robert I knew. The North shall chart its own course."
Greatjon Umber looked dissatisfied with that, but elected to keep his own council.
Seeing everyone in agreement, he took the decree that Maester Luwin had earlier prepared and affixed his seal to it after signing. He had Lord Umber and Lord Manderly witness it, and then Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin.
Catelyn was surprised when he next presented it to her. "You want me to sign?" In the south, ladies seldom witnessed charters or decrees.
"You are the Lady of the North. You are my heir's mother. You will serve as his guardian in my absence. I can think of no one more suited to sign, Catelyn," he responded, squeezing her hand which earned him a smile.
When his wife sighed, he gathered up the document and handed it to Maester Luwin. "Store this. If I'm not able to return, or don't return within three moons, send a copy to all the lords of the North."
"Come my lords," he said standing, offering Catelyn his arm. "Let me feast you and your men in thanks for your loyal service before I leave to meet the King. I can think of no better men with whom I'd wish to share a table."
'I hope I'm able to return to feast with you again,' he mentally added, his heart clenching in agreement.
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The journey south was faster than he'd prefer, but he pushed himself hard regardless. His father had taught him that unpleasant business was made even more unpleasant by putting it off. Best to confront the problem as soon as possible and deal with the consequences as they arose.
He took fifty men from Winterfell. He was accompanied by Lord Manderly and his escort. A half day's ride saw them at Castle Cerwyn located at the headwaters of the White Knife.
House Cerwyn was ruled by Medger Cerwyn, a good and loyal man. He insisted they feast with him. The hospitality was excellent, spoiled only by his efforts to arrange a marriage between his sister, Jonelle, with the widowed Wyman Manderly. Both Wyman and Jonelle bore Medger's fumbling efforts with humor and grace.
Ned thought they actually might make a good couple, but it was not his place to speak. It hadn't taken him long to realize that when the Warden of the North made a suggestion, many lords took it as a command. And after Lyanna, he never intended to meddle again in the private lives of others.
The next morning Lord Medger provided river runners, boats specially designed to navigate the rapids of the White Knife, and the pilots necessary to carry them down the river until the waters deepened and smoothed. From there they'd take a Manderly ship into White Harbor.
The boats traversed the river rapidly. Ned could almost see Wyman thinking as he considered how to improve the logistics of floating timber down the White Knife to White Harbor.
It was only a handful of days before they arrived at White Harbor. The city was one of the largest in Westeros. It would not be wrong to say it may well have been the most prosperous holding in the North. The Manderlys had been good stewards of the people and lands entrusted to them by the Starks.
Wyman Manderly provided him a war galley to transport him and his men to King's Landing. Flying the Stark banner, the ship made good time across the Bite, around the Fingers, past Dragonstone, and finally to Blackwater Bay into the capital.
The Stark banners must have been spotted from a distance. Jon Arryn was waiting for them as they disembarked. He was accompanied by a squad of gold cloaks led by Ser Jaime Lannister.
He ignored the Kingslayer - an honorless knight if there ever was one - in favor of his foster father.
"Ned," Jon called out, embracing him briefly. "It is good to see you again." He viewed the men behind them. He shook his head. "I don't see the babe. Is it too much to hope that you left the boy on the ship?"
Ned shook his head in denial. It served no purpose to put matters off, he reminded himself. "No. I left Jon in the North."
"Robert will be displeased," he said, sizing up his foster son.
"We all must suffer disappointments," Ned replied coldly, ignoring the queer look the Kingslayer was casting his way.
Jon Arryn sighed as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. He motioned to a gold cloak behind him. "See to it that Lord Stark's men are assigned suitable quarters. They are to be treated as honored guests."
Ned gave instructions to his household troops, before turning his attention back to Jon.
"I'm at your service, Lord Arryn." Ned said as he followed behind him.
Jon remained silent for a while, gathering his thoughts as he walked. "I hope the two of you can mend matters. You're going to have to be more conciliatory, Ned. Robert is king."
"Robert is king. I owe him loyal service. I have, and always will, provide it. I do not owe him the life of my nephew."
Jon winced. "Robert thinks the child is a threat." He looked away as he spoke.
Ned stopped and stared at his foster father in disbelief. "What did we fight for if not to remove a King who murdered innocents, to bring a prince who abducted a young girl to justice? Have we only succeeded in replacing one murderer with another?"
Jon flushed. "Ned," he protested. "That's not fair. You know that!"
"I think not, Lord Arryn," he replied frostily. "I know why I fought. You and Robert appear to have forgotten."
Jon sighed again. "I have not forgotten, Ned. But you and Robert need to mend the breach between the two of you. If you can control your temper, we can find common ground."
His stomach roiled, but he refused to let anyone see it. "I am loyal, Lord Arryn. I'm always willing to find common ground with the crown, so long as that ground does not include the lives of my blood or those I've sworn to protect. Jon Targaryen is both."
Lord Arryn contented himself with shaking his head again in disappointment. Ned couldn't bring himself to care. His course was set. Whether he lived or died was out of his hands.
The meeting between them was contentious. Threats were made, furniture destroyed and tears spilled. But, in the end, Robert was still the man remembered. Thank the gods.
Jon looked as if he'd aged ten years over the last hours. "So we're in agreement? The boy will remain in the North under the wardship of Lord Stark. If mad or disloyal, he'll be sent to the Wall when he reaches man's age. If not, he'll swear loyalty to House Baratheon but stay north of the Neck unless the crown commands otherwise. Any fostering or marriage must be approved by the crown."
"Aye," Ned said as he nodded in agreement. He tried to keep the relief from his face, but was not certain he succeeded.
Robert, on the other hand, looked thunderous. "If the boy raises his head, I'll take it, Ned. Friend or no friend, Lyanna or no Lyanna," he vowed, his face flushed.
Something twisted in him, and he almost said something they'd all regret until he felt Jon place a steadying hand on his shoulder. He took a breath and released it slowly. "If the boy proves a traitor, Your Grace, it's the block or the black," he agreed, vowing to see that day never come.
Robert stood, all but trembling with suppressed rage. "On your head be it then." With one last look at them, he swept out of the room.
With Robert gone, Jon turned his sorrowful eyes on him. "You two were always close as brothers, Ned. I'm afraid there is a breach between you two that will be hard to mend."
He couldn't help it. He snapped. "If I were the type of man who would surrender his own blood, Jon, then I would have proved a poor friend to the King."
Jon squeezed his shoulder. "I know. You've grown to be a fine man. I couldn't be prouder." The older man paused, thinking. "There are benefits to consider. The boy is heir to the Targaryen claim. Dragon loyalists will look to the boy. With him in our custody, apprehending Viserys and Daenerys is less important. Without him, the others have no claim to press. And if he should have a daughter, that claim can be shifted to bolster Robert's line."
"Aye," he agreed, trying to ignore the pressure building between his eyes. "Perhaps that should be explained to Lord Lannister. I will not tolerate lions sniffing around the North."
"I will. The peace will be kept." His foster father sighed. "And in a few generations the boy's claim will matter far less. Half the noble houses of Westeros were former kings, including ours and the Lannisters. House Targaryen will join those nobles who claim descent from kings, no more important than others."
The pressure between his eyes eased. "Thank you, Jon," he said sincerely. "Without you, I don't think Robert would have bent and fear what may have happened."
"You are a son to me, Ned. Just as is Robert. I would not see either one of you harmed." The older man hesitated. "And I would have you remember these words and yours, when I suggest the boy's fostering and marriage in due time." Standing, Lord Arryn held out his hand.
The pressure was back. Thinking furiously, he slowly grasped the offered hand. "In due time," he agreed hollowly.
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AN: If you want to read the actual confrontation between Ned and Robert, please read my story 'The Prince of Winterfell'. It shares much in common with what happened in this story and I didn't want to just cut and paste.