Ned II

282 AC

The singers had not lied when they said that at night, Casterly Rock looked like a Lion in repose. Ned felt his head stretch upward as he rode up along the sea, his horse keeping a good pace as he and his escort of Westerlanders approached the seat of House Lannister. In doing so, he could see the massive legs of the beast stick out into the harbor, limestone cut by the wind and water into paws. The back of the beast, a long stone ridge, seemed to slowly slope down once the rock was back fully on land, and rolled until it had a steep drop off. And at knight, when candle lights could be seen from inside the place, two massive eyes and dozens of smaller slits provided the beast with eyes, nose, mouth, and mane.

And he was about to be devoured by it.

The dozen or so heavily armored men, all wearing Lannister Red and Gold, had been with Ned for the past month, ever since he had passed the Golden Tooth. Due to a sudden spring storm washing out part of the River Road descending into the Westerlands, they had instead taken him down a short, but craggy path to the Gold Road. The travel from there to Lannisport had been longer but less treacherous, though after having lived in the mountains of the Vale, the hills of the Westerlands hadn't been daunting by any measure. Ned had of course not mentioned this to the dozen dour men around him, as he was fairly sure that none of them were happy to see him.

'Why would they be?' he asked himself, as they began to ascend a massive stone stepway, with plenty of room for his guards to surround him, 'I can barely know if I am happy about this.'

As they finished ascending the stone step way, they came to a massive limestone outcropping shaped like a growling lion, with the spikes of the portcullis stabbing down at him as he rode through the gate house. Inside, was a massive cavern, with several small buildings along the walls, as well as what looked like a full stable and granary too. His escort led him over to the stable past a dozen men-at-arms, all of whom were doing their best to let him know they were looking at him. Out from the stable came a short but wide man, who stared at Ned for a moment as he rode up.

"So you're the Stark boy," it wasn't a question. Ned, attempting to avoid saying something that might offend anyone in the Rock, nodded as he dismounted. The older man, half a head shorter, snorted, and then gripped the reins from Ned's hands and led his horse into the stable. Ned, now on his feet, looked at the head of the escort, a man only a few years older than him, Tyson Lannett, who began to walk to the edge of the cavern, and to a set of stairs carved into the stone.

Ned followed the man, who remained as quiet as the stone itself as they climbed further up into the Rock. Yet as they climbed, they would not remain in this one stairway, but enter tunnels, walk through halls, past barracks, and even under the starry night while walking through a courtyard at the end of their journey.

'The Eyrie is tall,' Ned thought, climbing the sixth staircase on this trip. The home of the Arryn's had been his for ten years. He then looked around and saw a set of servants carrying what appeared to be a full platter of dozens of different foods into a small hall filled with yet more men at arms, 'And Winterfell is wide,' the home of the Starks, where he had lived his first eight years, 'yet this makes them both feel so small.'

Even Harrenhal, for its massive seven towers, paled in comparison to Casterly Rock. Ned could understand those who claimed Harren the Black's folly was more impressive, as it had been made solely by men, while the Rock had been merely hollowed out of an existing hill of stone, but Ned almost felt that missed the point. Harrenhal was a declaration of arrogance by a man soon to be torched by Dragon fire. Casterly Rock was a place of men digging living among the greatness of the world made by the Gods. At least…that would be how he would explain his opinion if the Lord of the Rock ever asked him such a thing.

'Certainly if this is to be my home,' he considered, as finally, Tyson Lannett came to a stop in front of a set of wooden doors. The Lannister Lions were carved into them, the upper raised paws of the beasts made to grip the massive metal handles of the doors. Lannett held one of them, and then pulled it to the side to open the door to the room. As Ned passed, he made note of the untouched metal handle on the other door.

'Gold,' Ned recognized with one last thought, before entering the room.

It was a Solar, though again, nothing like the Solars of Jon Arryn or his father. While there were books here like before, instead of the humble shelves filled only with merely the most necessary tomes, there were dozens reaching to the top of the room, each filled to the brim with books. The sides of the shelves were decorated with lions, all of them staring out at Ned as he stood in the middle of this room. On the left upper side, above one of the two windows, was a small tapestry, showing what Ned suspected was Lann the Clever tricking his way to ownership of the Rock, and on the right…

A red lion flipped so its head pointed downward, surrounded by blue.

'My claws are long,' Ned thought, having heard the song a half hundred times on his journey here, from the voices of the Western Men and from the back reaches of this thoughts, 'and sharp my lord…'

"I trust your travels have been of an adequate quality," Ned had been there but a moment, and yet he had not turned his attention to the desk at the center of the Solar. There were two blonde men there, one sitting and one standing. The standing man was less imposing, a wide gut and jaw that had a yellow beard covering it, and his eyes seemed to be survey Ned with interest. The sitting man, on the other hand, "The Rock can be quite treacherous to climb."
Tywin Lannister was as terrifying as Ned had thought him to be. He was completely bald, and the light of the candles above reflected along his head as though his scalp was on fire. He had bright blonde tufts of hair jutting from his cheeks, twisting up along his ears. His eyes were still staring down at a stack of papers he was reading through upon his desk. The desk was, as much like much of the Rock, covered in Gold and Lions, more than enough to pay for a dozen suits of armor for tourney knights, and the destiers for those knights to ride. As Tywin flipped over another page, and placed it on the desk, he did not bother to look up at Ned.

"It was more than what I could have asked for, Lord Lannister," Ned gave a short bow, and looked at the man who had once been Aerys most trusted advisor, "The escort you sent is how I have arrived in such good time. The River Road was damaged by several storms, yet they were able to get us to the Gold Road with no issue."

"Aye," Tywin still refused to look up, his eyes traveling across the papers in his hands, "Westermen know the crags and valleys of these hills when they are born. It would be beneath them to fail to bring you to me in any more time than it already has," his green eyes finally came off the pages, and stared directly into Ned's own, "As Lord of Casterly Rock, I expect those in my household to operate as I see as necessary."

"Of course," Ned nodded, again in a slight bow. For a second he sat there, a small sweat beginning to cover his brow, until he heard the sound of more papers rustling, the unmistakable signal that Tywin had returned to his papers. He waited for another heartbeat, before raising his head. He held his tongue, and waited for the next question for the lord of this fortress. All the while, Tywin continued to flip through the papers in his hands, his eyes far more invested in the ink there than the man standing in front of him.

Then, after one final flip, Tywin picked up a pen, and wrote quickly at the bottom of it. He then folded the parchment, and held it out to the other blonde man, who took it in his hand. Tywin nodded, before adding, "Make sure this makes it off to Kings Landing by the morrow Kevan."

"Yes Tywin," Kevan Lannister took the paper, and placed it under his arm. Tywin nodded, and then looked at Ned. For the next few moments, they would remain in those positions, Ned standing straight, and Tywin surveying the younger man.

"Tell me," Tywin remained straight in his posture, his eyes not seeming to move even as his jaw opened to speak, "Eddard Stark," Ned almost felt as if Tywin was weighing the words in his hands, trying to see if they were worth as much as he thought worth purchasing, "Of what occurred at the tourney at Harrenhal," his eyes did not move, and Ned would have bet a hundred gold dragons they didn't blink either, "I was absent at the festivities, and I would like to hear an account from a man who was present."

"Lord Lannister," Ned wondered if this was how a lamb might feel while walking past a resting lion, that perhaps at any moment the beast might spring and devour your whole. That was mixing with a question he dare not ask about how he could not have already interrogated his own family about the events, though he supposed Tywin wanted another source, "The tourney was the largest I had ever seen," he then added quickly to cut off a question he could guess was forming in Tywin's mind, "I had been to several in the Vale, which I have called home for many years."

"Yes," Tywin still didn't move, "You were fostered with Jon Arryn," there seemed for a second to be a gloss of recognition in his eyes. Ned waited for Tywin to continued, yet for a moment the older man just continued to stare at him.

"At the tourney," Ned continued, "I was sent out to joust on the first day," he felt the impact on his back as though he was landing once more from the dismount. The pain had faded, mostly, "I was defeated in that joust by-"

"The Hedge Knight wearing a Gold Lion on a Blue Background," Tywin stated, and for the first time, Ned could see something change in the man. Lord Lannister's, for only a second, seemed to dig into the wood of the desk he was sitting in front of, "A most…unfortunate introduction to the lists," Ned almost winced, but kept himself as stoic as he could, his eyes still staring directly into the Lion's, "One I wager any young man of your age and your family would find beneath your dignity," Ned was about to say that he wasn't that embarrassed, as many other knights had worse showings, but the open anger crawled back inside Tywin, and the older man waved his fingers, "Tell me of what happened after the jousts, about the events of that evening."

"That evening," Ned's mind returned to the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, "After the feast, there was a massive dance, with more ladies and lords than I thought lived in all the Seven Kingdoms," he remembered Ashara Dayne, at once fire, wind and water, gliding through the hall and between dancing partners. And then, "I met your daughter there," he stated, remembering the pretty face and the small tuft of golden hair sitting over her forehead, "She agreed to be my dance partner."

He finished, and for the nonce, the Solar was silent. Tywin stared at him, as did Kevan, who Ned Stark realized only now was studying him at the same time as his elder brother. Both of them were still staring at him, telling him to continue the story.

"So we had a dance," Ned felt something in his chest, but pushed through it, not wanting to dissuade the two lions from continuing to glower at him, "She was a fine dancer. Much more skilled than I," he then saw a blue dress shoot through a throng of revelers, "She retired for the evening after that," he admitted, "And then I ran into Gerion Lann-"

"Of course you did," for the first time, emotion reached Tywin's voice, and it made the sweat on the back of Ned's head flow more fully, "He would of course be the witness to this whole farce," Tywin's fingers now actually dug into the wooden desk he was sitting behind, "Gerion has always had a talent for mocking me with his mere breathing. I would not doubt that he was encouraging you to follow my daughter that night."

Ned blinked, before saying, "No, he told me that Artoria would not wish to be spoken to after the dance," Tywin's face didn't change, though it almost seemed as if Kevan let out a small sigh of relief at that, "He instead informed the that if I wished to reach out to your daughter, that I should try and speak with her some other time at the rest of the tourney," Kevan gave a small nod, and Ned honestly appreciated that there was someone in the room that was not Tywin Lannister.

"Did you speak with her after that night?"

Ned closed his eyes.

"No. I haven't spoken to her since that first night. I haven't seen her besides the third to last day of the tourney around twenty or so days ago."

He remembered the seven days, the full week, he'd spent trying to see if he could find Artoria. He missed a few jousts, including the three victories of the Knight of the Laughing Tree. As Benjen had described the scene, he had been too dazed from his search to pay much mind to the story of the knight seeking justice for Howland Reed. He…he hadn't even known what he was going to say to her once he saw her again. Thank her? Ask her for another dance at the other celebrations? Ask to begin some courtship? It might have been all of those, or none of them.

It hadn't mattered. Every time he'd gone to the Westerlands tents, he couldn't find her, and none there could offer any help in tracking down where she might have been. By the end of his visits, the men there had grown wary of him, and Gerion Lannister was also unable to provide any introduction. Had the events of the third to last day, the second to last day of jousts, not occurred, she might have been informed that he was nothing more than a strange wild pup, and he likely never would have seen her again.

But that day's events had occurred…

"What occurred on the third to last day of the tourney," Tywin was as still as before, though something had changed. It was subtle, though he couldn't tell what. Yet…it was almost as though the Lion had not stopped observing him, but had gone from standing up to lounging. He was no longer an immediate prey, "I again wish to hear from someone who was there."

'He could have easily asked Gerion,' Ned noted in his head, though the previous snapping at Gerion's name had been enough for Ned to suppose that Tywin did not care for his younger brother. Though from Gerion's small talk with Ned at the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, he could not help but think that the feeling was shared.

"I suppose you are asking about the final round of the day for that tourney," Ned closed his eyes. He and his siblings had been invited to the personal stand of King Aerys the Second. They had joined all the other members of the houses of the Lord Paramounts of the Seven Kingdoms who had come. It had given him a close viewing, "At the end of the day, the last sixteen knights had one final ride on the lists, before the final three rounds to take place on the final day."

They had clearly been the best of the best. Knights as great as Yohn Royce and Ned's brother Brandon had fallen to the most illustrious of the participants, the Crown Prince himself Rhaegar Targaryen, but other fine knights such as Lyn Corbay, Oberyn Martell and and Richard Lonmouth had been knocked from the lists as well. Even three of the Kingsguard, including the White Bull himself, had been defeated. The sixteen who had made it were the finest of them all, and all of them were to ride out and seek a horse on the lists of the final day of the tourney.

And among them had been a mystery knight. Not the already legendary Knight of the Laughing Tree, who had gained fame for his three swift victories and the rage he had inspired in the king, but the very hedge knight that had unhorsed Ned on the first joust in the tournament. That knight had done far more damage after Ned's loss, including a member of the Kingsguard in Jorathor Darry. It had been an impressive showing.

"The Knight of the Sailing Lion," it was the best accepted name for the yellow beast on a blue background, "Was to ride against Barristan Selmy for a spot on the final day of the tourney," he felt his shoulders descend in defeat, "She lasted six passes against Barristan, the best showing against the Bold until he was defeated in the final joust of the tourney itself."

"Impressive," Tywin seemed to grip his own hands so tightly as his knuckles became as white as Northern Snow, "So very," Ned thought he could see Tywin grinding his teeth together, "Impressive."

"After she had been defeated," Ned tried to word this a carefully as possible, "the knight's helmet had been knocked clear," he remembered how his own eyes widened as he saw the stubborn streak of blonde hair hang over the girl's forehead, reflecting the sun as much as her own steel armor, "Your Daughter was-"

"A foolish little twit," Tywin cut Ned off, and Ned barely contained the wince. No lady was allowed to enter the tourney, and for a woman to appear on them was taken as an insult to the whole of the realm. The jeers and boos that had followed the reveal of Artoria Lannister had been thunderous. The girl, her small stature now apparent having been driven from her horse, only began to shrink further under the derision. Yet of all the crowd, there had been one voice that had carried above the others, a bell ringing in the mockery of Artoria, and likely her whole house. One voice that had signaled that this would never be allowed to be forgotten, and that house Lannister would have to live with the consequences of Artoria's breaking of custom. The voice of Aerys the Second, whose cackles cut through the thunderous condemnations like lighting through thunder. Ned, having been sitting next to the king in the royal box, and felt his skin crawl as Aerys's laughter continued to ring in his ears.

That was a voice Tywin likely had grown accustomed to through his many years serving at the wretched king's hand.

"What came next?" Tywin's anger was barely contained in his voice, and Ned could imagine the ravens flying in from King's Landing, the barely restrained glee and mockery in communication from the king.

"She was taken from the grounds," Ned sighed, remembering as Artoria had been whisked away from the muddy ground of the tourney, "and it was publicly declared that all her winnings, including the horses and armor that she had taken were to be returned to their previous owner by word of the king," to strip a knight of their hard won prizes was to declare their skill to have been false, "And declared that Artoria Lannister would be barred from entering Kings Landing for five years for dishonoring all those at the tourney," yet another insult. This one to make it clear to the whole of the kingdom that anyone associated with the girl, and therefore Tywin, would be considered no friend of the King.

Ned couldn't help but wonder at the King. Aerys was mad. Completely mad. The man babbled constantly, dark thoughts of burning the nobles around him pouring from his mouth as Ned sat only a few meters away in the Royal box. Yet Aerys had taken every advantage he had to humiliate his old Hand in ways that would personally harm him, from taking his heir as a member of the Kingsguard to barring his second daughter from the usual courtship.

"And then?"

"I searched for her," Ned admitted.

"Why?" Tywin pushed, and Ned honestly couldn't answer. It had been foolish to do so, clearly she would be locked away, or, as he now knew, she had been whisked away from Harrenhal within the afternoon. Ned had been stumbling around the grounds for the whole period, and hadn't learned that the girl was gone until that evening's feast. He remembered the discomfort in his belly as the whole meal, and the other meals of the tourney, had been filled with jests at the defeated Lannister's expense.

"To see if she was hurt or unhurt?"

"Really," this would again, not be a question, "Was it not to demand recompense for your dishonorable defeat?" His eyes were boring into Ned, and Ned had to end this suggestion quickly.

"No," Ned said, "I did want to see what had happened," he then remembered the confrontation that evening, one that had nearly caused Lyanna to dump her stew on Brandon's head, "Though my Brother believed the same as you did, and questioned me on that day. I-"

"Your brother," Tywin said, and Ned heard a drawer being pulled out. He felt himself wince as he knew exactly what piece of paper Tywin was removing from there, and saw him place it on the desk. Tywin looked back down at it for a moment, and then back up at Ned, and Ned knew that if Tywin wanted him dead for at that moment, or at least to kill someone, with Ned being the unfortunate close enough for Tywin's hands to reach for.

"When he found that I was not pursuing her for some kind of retribution," Ned explained, and he remembered his own desire to strangle Brandon, "He thought I was instead pursuing her…to court her," he remembered the excitement on Brandon's face later the next day, though at the time he had had no idea of the reason. Brandon had been sent by their father to learn how to play politics, and Ned supposed he could understand how marrying to the Lannisters did offer a new alliance, "we would be distracted by the scandal of the final day of the tourney."

"When your sister received the crown of beauty from Rhaegar Targareyan," Tywin had heard of the event, and Ned remembered how a brawl had nearly started in the box, as Brandon and Oberyn Martell, Rhaegar's wife, had both attempted to charge at the Prince. They had been constrained, ironically from his later fury, Robert had been among those attempting to hold Ned's brother back, and a new disgrace replaced the dishonor of Artoria Lannister in the forefront of the tourney. Ned tried to see if that change to the tittering of the nobles had pleased Tywin, though the man had regained his statuesque demeanor.

"During the days after the tourney, Brandon requested I wait for at Harrenhal with him and the rest of my family," he remembered Robert and Jon departing for the Eyrie, wondering if he would ever climb through those halls again. Robert, his third brother even if they shared not an ounce of blood, had spoken about going on a trip down to Gulltown once he returned, and Ned felt some loss at never being able to join him, "And then we received your Raven."

"And now you are here," Tywin said finally, raising his hand in almost disbelief at the story. Ned wouldn't have believed it either. He hadn't believed it when Brandon had first revealed what he had done to Ned those many weeks ago, before he left for this craggy land, "To be betrothed to my daughter."

"Yes."

"Tell me Stark," Tywin finally stood up, and marched around his desk so he was standing right in front of Ned. Tywin was not an especially tall man, but he was tall enough to seem to tower over Ned, "What makes you think that you have the right to seek the hand of my blood," he twisted his hand out towards the tapestry on his right, towards the tapestry of Lann, "To come before me, as some dumbstruck, clumsy fool, and seek to ask that I be your Goodfather."

"No right," Ned had been preparing this for a while, "Other than that which you grant to me, Lord Lannister."

Ned didn't move any muscle as he said this, his eyes matching Tywin's as they stood in front of one another. To bow would be too subservient, he remembered from Jon Arryn's discussion of proper form between members of the Great Houses. Ned could not afford to be shown to be weak in front of this man…his soon to be Good Father.

For a long moment, they stared at one another. Finally, Tywin's scowl deepened, and he turned on his heels, and went back behind his desk, his fingers playing across the many trinkets and jewels upon it. He sat back down, and then gave one final look at Ned before turning his attention to Kevan.

"Take Stark to his rooms," Ned felt some of his fears flow out of him, glad that the interrogation was over, "I have…other things to attend to."

Kevan nodded, and walked past the desk, tapping Ned on the shoulder. Ned turned and followed Kevan out the door at the older man's pace, and then nodded when Kevan closed the door behind them. He then made his way through the corridor, and down a set of stairs, with Ned following at the same pace. Finally, once they had passed through another corridor, the older man spoke up.

"You did well with Tywin," he said honestly, "Your explanations were acceptable for what has occurred this last month," Ned nodded from behind, the both of them continuing on as they marched down the hall, "And you showed him the necessary defference that he is owed, without groveling," Kevan shook his head, "All that should mean there is little chance of you being thrown off a balcony any time soon."

Ned said nothing about that. He knew if Tywin wanted him dead, there was nothing in the world Ned could have done to escape it. His mind wandered towards the future, finally secure in the present to broach that topic, "Where shall I be staying."

"There is a set of guest rooms on the eastern side of the Rock," Kevan sighed, "They were assigned to you to keep you as far away from Artoria as possible," Kevan turned back, and glared at Ned, "My brother and I believe you were not so foolish as to attempt to take her maidenhead while at Harrenhal," wouldn't having a Septa check be more than enough to know that? "And we wish to keep it in place until you two are safely wed," Kevan leaned forward "you may have been judged to be worthy of being my family, but understand that we do not consider you family yet."

"Yes Ser Lannister," Kevan's frown softened, and he sighed, before placing a hand on Ned's shoulder. Ned couldn't help but see less icy rage in Kevan's eyes than in Tywin's. The man then clapped it a few more times, before releasing Ned.

"For what it's worth," Kevan said, "I think that Artoria could do far worse than you, and I believe my brother does agree," Kevan's mind wandered for a second, "Just do understand that in the Rock, you are a Lannister, not a Stark," he stared down the hall, "Your and Artoria's children shall be Lannisters, and they will serve for the good of our family."

Ned felt a twinge of grief in his heart, but he left it. He had long known he would never truly call Winterfell home again, not since he'd been sent to Foster with Jon Arryn. That was Brandon's right, Brandon's home, Brandon's seat. Even before Brandon had told him of the marriage proposal he'd sent, Ned had known that his return to Winterfell would be as a guest, and that he would have to be lucky to return as a lord of a castle. That he had found himself invited into one of the other great families of the Seven Kingdoms would to most be a great honor.

Even if he would never trade the open skies of Winterfell for the gilded cage of Casterly Rock.

"May I see Artoria?" he finally said, and Kevan seemed to grow uncomfortable, his eyes shifting around at the name, "If I am to be her husband," he thought of the girl breathing heavily before him as they finished their dance, "Then perhaps we should use some of this time given to us to speak to one another," Kevan continued to remain tightlipped, "Does she know that I am to be he-"

"Yes!" Kevan had yelled far too loudly for Ned's comfort, but he calmed himself quickly, "Yes, she knows," he closed his eyes, before turning away, "She has been ill for these past few days, so we think it would be good to wait to you to see her. To allow your first proper discussion to be…appropriate."

Ned stared at Kevan's retreating form. For a moment, he thought of pressing further, before he shook his head, and sighed. At this moment, nothing he said would matter. Best go along to his rooms, and wait to see Artoria on the morrow. Surely she would be feeling better then.

"Ah, the man to be my Goodbrother."

The morning had come and gone, and Ned had not managed to see any of his new family during the whole of it. He had been searching for Kevan, as he had thought that Lannister would be best to introduce him to the rest of the Rock. When he had not, he had managed to find a small library, and had taken a book call "Lions of the West" from one of shelves. He had then taken the opportunity to get a mid-day meal to break his fast, and had sat down to learn more about his new family.

Now, there was an ugly little creature walking up to greet him at his seat. He was a child, but also squished, with his limbs unnaturally short and his head misshapen in a strange way. His eyes were a mismatched green and black, which Ned had only just noticed after overcoming the creature's jutting forehead. The head on top of his head almost seemed white, and he could even see parts of the thing's scalp as he walked up.

'This,' Ned thought, looking down at the misshapen boy waddling up towards him, pulling himself next to Ned on the bench for the table, 'Must be Lord Lannister's Imp son,' the boy, his soon to be goodbrother, twisted himself up onto the wood, and sat his stunted little legs over to give him more balance, 'I suppose, if he is to be family, I must treat him as such.'

"Good morrow," Ned fought for a second, but quickly remembered the imp's name, "Tyrion," Tyrion's eyes seemed to flash, and the smile seemed to become brighter than usual, "Yes, I suppose I will be your good brother soon."

Ned had heard the whispers of the boy, how the Gods had cursed Tywin's arrogance with a monster who had chewed his way out from his mother's womb. How he was famous for biting guests, and that the bitten limb had to be removed or the victim would die. How he would belch fire and had burned half a hall in mistake.

All of those were wild exaggerations for what was clearly just an ordinary dwarf. If Tyrion was all that was spoken about, Ned knew that a man like Tywin likely would have had no guilt in having him killed. Ned guessed that the envy and fear of Tywin Lannister was likely more responsible for these stories. And with the way that King Aerys had been jeering at Artoria…he wouldn't have been surprised if they did not originate from the Red Keep itself.

"Excellent," Tyrion smirked. The imp's eyes sliced over towards the book on Ned's side, and he saw the smile on the boy's face widen, "Lions of the West. A fine book," Ned could see the mismatched eyes land on the thickness of the pages, "You are already to Tytan, the massive, then," Ned felt his eyes widen.

"Aye," Ned had already gone through the stories of Lann the Clever, and had moved to Lann's great-grandsire. A hug man of great skill with a blade, "I was just finished reading of the Iron Charge," he then eyed the imp, "Could you tell by the number of pages you saw I had left."

"Ah," Tyrion laughed, "I've read that book a dozen times," he then raised his hand to his chin, and rubbed it, though his stubby fingers barely moved along the lines of his jaw, "If I couldn't tell you where the story was after all that reading, what kind of reader would I be?"

"...," Ned had no answer, but he nodded at the imp, who seemed to take it in well.

"Well then," Tyrion added, "Any reason you are reading that book," Ned looked and saw Tyrion's smile marred by mismatching teeth, "Tis a good one, but not exactly what I would expect."

"Stories from our past," Ned admitted, taking another piece of his bread and chewing it. He then swallowed and continued, "Determine how we see ourselves. To understand my new family, it is good to understand what the Lannisters value," he then patted the book, "And this book is my way of learning that."

"Ha!" Tyrion's laughter was an unusual thing, and Ned wasn't quite sure he liked it, "What do you think we Lannister's like," he then waved his little arms around, "Gold and Power," he patted the book to, "Surely you don't need these stories, when the Rock itself tells you that."

"Perhaps," Ned admitted, "Though I have seen so little of your home, I may not have the full view of it."

"Well, then it is a fortunate day," Tyrion smiled, "such a fortuitous meeting you and I have had Stark," Ned guessed that the boy was quite proud of himself for using that word, "If you are to be my good brother, then I should think it would be good to offer you some assistance in becoming accustomed to Casterly Rock," he stuck out his hand, "Once you have finished your meal, I can show you the rest of my home."

"Do you think you can be a guide to this place?" Ned made sure not to stare down at the stunted limbs, "Surely moving across a space this large must be hard for you."

"Nonsense," Tyrion laughed, patting the table, "I couldn't have lived in this mine for my whole life if I wasn't able to get from one end to the other," for a second, there appeared a sadness in his eyes, "Not that my father wouldn't have minded me not being able to," some event that Tyrion was clearly not enjoying remembering, "So, I shall be your guide, and allow you take in the whole of your new home," he stuck his hand out to touch Ned's shoulder.

Ned couldn't help but wonder why the imp was so intellectual. It wasn't just his body, but that he was younger than Benjen, and yet he was using words that Benjen wouldn't for the rest of his life. Perhaps he was studying so much.

"I shall be glad to accompany you," Ned nodded, "Though please, call me Eddard."

"Well then Eddard," Tyrion pushed himself off the bench, "Let's begin the tour."

The rest of the time before supper, Ned had followed his imp of a good brother. And for all the strangeness of Tyrion Lannister, Ned couldn't help but admit that the boy was quite bright. He had explained what each room was for, when it had been first dug for gold and then transformed into an actual useful gave Ned more insight into how the Lannister's had managed to build out the whole of Casterly Rock into the largest fortress in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Along the way, he had also demonstrated that Tyrion was more right than wrong about how the Lannisters coveted power and wealth, and managed to collect so much of both.

"So," Ned looked down at Tyrion as they finished walking through a hall of tapestries, one that contained a larger and more detailed version of Lann's stealing of Casterly Rock, "Where shall we go next," the imp had been eager to have someone to show around his home, "The west library might be best," he looked over at the book of tales that Ned had carried since they had met, "That book is supposed to be on the library on this section of the Rock. Sometimes books just get left in the wrong room."

"Two libraries?" Ned asked, "Wintefell has merely one."

"Three libraries," Tyrion held up three fingers, "That's also ignoring the books that father keeps in his Solar, and the dozens of other books lying around here," he smiled, "My body confines much of my life to reading, but here there I shall find it quite difficult to run out of books to read."

Ned looked down at Tyrion, who smirked up at him, and Ned could tell his discomfort was showing on his face. The few hours of walking with the boy next to him had shown that the stories were clearly false. And yet, the boy also could not help but cause a certain weight to grow in the bottom of Ned's gut, one that weighed whenever he thought of Tyrion and how little he would be able to do as he grew older. When Ned was Tyrion's age, he had been fostered already, and had begun to climb around the mountains of the Vale, desperately following Robert wherever his friend led him. Tyrion's arms would never be able to climb in the way they had.

"I have known since I could think about this body of mine," Tyrion continued, as he lead the two of them down the nearest hall towards what Ned supposed was the nearest library, "Uncle Gerion has told me that to do anything but accept it would be to waste my mind on what it can't control," he smirked to himself, and he must have been thinking of a jest that Gerion had added to the end of that advice.

"It is good counsel," Ned nodded, and Tyrion let out a laugh.

"I think so," Tyrion then shook his head, "I must ask, have you met many other dwarfs?"

"No," Ned added, "In the Vale, Jon Arryn was never the sort of man to pay for large groups of fools and mummers," the groups that most dwarfs entered to earn their way, "And in the North…"

In the North, dwarfs were never born. Or rather, never acknowledged as having been born. Some said it was due to their first blood, though Ned was quite sure that actually meant that a child born with dwarfism was most likely left in the wild for the cold or the beasts to take them. An ancient tradition, a child that could not one day lift or farm was obviously not worth feeding.

Ned had seen one of them before, only a year before he had left Winterfell. The babe had been dead for days, a snap of a freeze stealing the life from its little lungs. He had sworn to go back with some wood to burn the body, yet the next day, when he had returned, all that was left was some blood stains and a few scraps of bone.

There was not much that Ned thought the Andals did better than the First Men. Yet from everything he had heard, they did not practice such things as that.

"Well," Tyrion laughed, "Then I hope I have made a good impression," he opened the door, and Ned could see rows upon rows of bookshelves, "Even if my face alone does no-"

"Tyrion," a female voice cut past whatever Tyrion was about to say next. The dwarf turned his head, and Ned's eyes followed. Standing against another door at the other end of the library was a blond girl, perhaps only a year or so younger than Ned, with a large smile on her face. She had long curly hair, piercing green eyes, and a very shapely face. She was still a girl, though she was just at the cusp of womanhood. Her eyes were surveying both Ned and Tyrion, and with one quick look at the dwarf, Ned could tell he was not glad to see her, "I see you have been doing something useful for once, in giving our," she stopped for a second, and then she finally found a word she thought acceptable, "Guest a tour."

"Of course, Sweet Cersei," Ned nodded to himself as he realized this was Tywin's older daughter, Cersei Lannister. Just by looking at her, he understood why there had been a rumor that this girl would have married Rhaegar. She truly did look as though she had come out of a fairy tale, "It would be rude to allow our Goodbrother," Tyrion emphasized the word, and he could see the smile on Cersei's lips fade, "To stay here without an understanding of the ways around the Rock."

"My, and why should it be you to give him the tour?" Cersei placed a hand on her cheek, "I doubt that finding little tunnels to crawl through like a babe interest our guest," she smiled at him, and Ned was reminded of a cat staring at an unsuspecting mouse.

"I doubt you could do better dear sister," Ned could hear the venom in Tyrion's voice, "Without Jamie here, I quite wonder how you even know which way on the staircase to go to reach the harbor."

"Cersei Lannister," Ned interjected. He hadn't known two siblings could hate each other like this. This wasn't ordinary squabbles, like he had seen between his siblings, or even the distant distaste of Robert and his brother, Stannis. No, there was a fire here, one that he would have to put down before it burned him, "Tyrion has been an excellent guide throughout Casterly Rock," Cersei frowned at Ned, and he wondered if he had created an enemy.

"I suppose he must have learned something if he's spent his whole life stuck in these walls," her eyes not coming off of Ned. From the corner of his eye, Ned could see both the gratitude in his eyes, as well as a spark of fear. He had perhaps overstepped himself, at least according to Tyrion's perspective, "Though I must ask, has he shown you the rooms of my family itself?"

"No," Ned answered.

"Then I shall take you up there," Cersei quickly turned her head to Tyrion, "Uncle Tygett has called for you, Tyrion."

It was an order. Tyrion stared at Cersei for a moment, about to say something, before nodding at his sister, and turning. Ned watched the youngest of Tywin's children wander off. Just as the imp left the room, he looked back at Ned, and gave him a wary look.

"Come on then," Cersei gave Ned a sweet smile, and Ned almost took a step back as she came up close to him, "I must show you the upper chambers. They make the rest of this rock look like a prison."

As they ascended from the library to the Western End of the Rock, Ned couldn't help but see why the Lannister's family had their room on this side. A small window on one of the staircases gave a clear view of the harbor of Lannisport, and better still, as it was nearing supper, a straight view of the sun as it began to set down into the Sunset Sea. The white sails of the ships entering and leaving the port danced among the blue waves, and the sky above the ships was a mix of reds, yellows and purples. These rooms would more than likely all have views of this every evening, and that may have been worth the gold it took to construct them.

"These are the lower floors," Cersei said, pointing to a small opening along the staircase, to a set of rooms, "Down here are the rooms for Uncles Kevan, Tygett and Gerion," she looked over at Ned, her smile not wavering, "Though really Kevan no longer lives here, since he is soon to be a father, and he will be provided his own floor for them all."

"So none of them have keeps of their own," Ned asked. Before he had been sent here to marry, Ned had suspected he might have been married to a daughter of one of his father's pledged lords, and then provided a keep somewhere in the North. Cersei let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

"Where would they have one?" she waved her hand, "Besides, we are lions," she looked back at him, "Best to remain together, one cannot trust those outside the family to understand what is best for it. That's why you'll be staying here too." she shook her head, "Even if that does mean we have to keep Freys here with us. Poor Aunt Genna," she turned her head to Ned, and looked at him with true eyes for perhaps the first time since they met, "I will say, you seem to be far more worth becoming family than anything coming from the Twins."

Ned didn't need to say anything, the reputation of Walder Frey and his many offspring was more than enough to explain the attitude that Cersei said. Yet within a moment, Cersei seemed to bounce on her heels, clapping her hands together, "Well, then let me take you to the next floor, the one right beneath Father's rooms, where my rooms and the rooms for Jamie, Wart and Tyrion are. "

"...Wart?"

"Oh," Cersei scoffed for a second, "It's what Jamie always called Artoria," she placed her hand over her lips, and just shook her head, "Your betrothed has always been a bit toadlike if you ask me. I find the name to be far more fitting than the name of a great knight."

Ned was about to say that his betrothed looked nothing like a toad. On a certain level, he knew that Cersei was more beautiful than Artoria. Yet Artoria was younger, in the stage where she was still feeling fits and starts of growth into her own, while Cersei had already passed through that period of her life. Even then, Ned was comparing a sweaty, nervous girl with no cosmetics to a woman who seemed to have bathed in creams and powders and lip paints. Was not fair at all to compare them at all.

"I found her quite pretty at Harrenhal," Ned offered, and Cersei let out a snort as they finally passed through the doorway to this second highest level of the castle. Ned felt his cheeks warm at the laughter, and he added on, "She was very comely in her dress, and she danced as well as any girl I'd ever seen."

"You were likely drunk," Cersei stabbed back at him, and Ned felt his cheeks grow hotter, though the embarrassment was mixing with something he wasn't proud of, "Or perhaps Wart simply knocked your head so badly during the joust that you did not think straight. Either would be a good enough explanation of the madness you describe."

"I…," he stared at Cersei, who maintained her smile. He was about to say something, before shaking his head, and adding, "I believe that you are being cruel to your sister," Cersei's smile was still there, "You are being most unkind to her. Besides, she may grow to be more beautiful than you can imagine."

Ned realized immediately he had said something that he shouldn't have. Cersei's eyes narrowed, and her smile almost turned into a straight line. She gripped her hands tightly together, and stared at him. But this disappeared after a moment, as she looked over at one of the doors, and then walked up to it.

"Wart!" she shouted, knocking on the door, "I need you to come out. I brought you supper for the evening."

As he heard what sounded like soft footsteps behind the door, Ned immediately realized that this must have been Artoria's room, and Cersei had decided to call out his betrothed. To prove a point about Artoria's looks or simply to embarrass Ned, he couldn't say. Yet before Ned could say something to stop this, he could hear the sound of the handle on the other side of the door begin to twist.

"Thank you Cer-" Ned felt his eyes widen as he saw Artoria Lannister for the first time since she had been pulled from the lists.

Her face was a frightful mess. Her eyes were puffy, swollen out so she was looking at him with a half squint. There were dark, red marks around both of her eyes, swinging down from around her nose to into her cheeks. Her cheeks themselves were slightly swollen as well, with what looked like dark marks at the center of them. Even her lip was cracked on the right side of her face, no longer blood red, but with a slight scar there.

She stared at Ned for a moment, the recognition clear even through her bruised face. The girl began to shake then, and then grabbed the door, and slammed it shut.

Ned had been in fist fights before. Robert had a tendency when drunk to brawl with his fellow drunks in the taverns of the Vale. More than once, one of those men had managed to get a good punch in on Robert, and left him with a bruise that resembled one that he was currently seeing. But nothing on this level, nothing that made it look like Robert had been held down and had his face smashed in.

"I told you," Cersei wasn't laughing outwardly, but as his eyes wandered to her' eyes he could see them cackle, "Her face quite looks like a toad's doesn't it," she was saying it loudly, more than likely enough for her sister to hear through the door, "Wart is a perfect name for her."

"Do you hear yourself?" Ned felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he squared up towards Cersei, "What gives you the right to laugh at her pain?"

"The right of the responsible daughter over the irresponsible," she smirked, before getting closer to him, "What are you to do, pup," she spat in his face with that word, and Ned felt the heat rise further up his neck, "Do you think striking me would help you or her," her voice was singing now, "My father would toss you in the dungeon for striking his eldest daughter," she gave him the widest smile he'd yet seen on her, "and then what could you do for poor, sweet, stupid Wart. Leave her to die disgraced alone? That was what made Father so angry with her in the first place."

Ned gripped his hands into tight fists, but he couldn't lift them up. From the bruises, he could already guess they had not been given by Cersei. Yet…he could see the old lion staring down at Artoria, his rage and hate from the humiliation overcoming him, and then-

Ned just stood there, still as the statues beneath Winterfell. He couldn't do anything at all. He was trapped. Even if he tried to leave, that would likely mean that Tywin would only become angrier at Artoria, and with the amount of damage done to her now, how could he know if she'd survive his rage now that he had lost the only prestigious marriage he could get for her.

"I shall leave you here if you wish," Cersei walked past him, towards the stairwell, "Supper shall be served for the next two hours," she smiled sweetly once more, "I hope you have found me to be as good a guide as Tyrion," she then descended the stairs so quickly that he had no time to respond. He was about to shout down at Cersei, until he heard something in the room behind the door. He slowly came to the door, and placed his ear against it.

Crying.

Artoria was crying. No, that wasn't what was happening. Artoria was sobbing. Weeping. Crying so hard that he could almost imagine that it hurt to do so with her face in such a state. Ned could feel the bottom of his stomach fall out. He placed a hand on the door, and sighed when he felt it was locked. It was probably for the best. If a rumor got out he had been visiting Artoria in her rooms, it was likely Tywin's anger would spark again.

There was really nothing he could do, but stand there and listen to the girl he'd become sick for sob. He placed his hands and forehead against the door, and said the only thing that could come to his mind.

"I'm so sorry."