Ned IV

"...twenty-five hundred men from Last Hearth," Roger Poole was reading from a piece of paper at the farthest end of the table from Ned, the Great Hall echoing his voice as a form of projection. The old man, already past his sixtieth name day, had insisted on this task for himself, as was his duty as the Steward of Winterfell. Yet Ned could see his throat shake as he attempted to speak so loudly that Ned could hear him, which would mean all the lords between them could hear him as well, "And eleven hundred from Karhold have arrived in the past few days."

"Ha!" a titan of a man with a long flowing brown beard and a booming voice, the Greatjon Umber, guffawed, before turning to a pasty man with greasy black hair, "What say you Lord Bolton. Five hundred more men of Umber than men of the Dreadfort!"

The pale man slowly moved his eyes toward Greatjon, and Ned felt his shoulders shake at the pale orbs staring directly into the Umber. As the man did so, his sigil came into focus on the breast of his doublet, a red man on a pink background. The flayed man was said to actually be a flayed member of House Stark, and Ned couldn't help but feel the threat of that sigil even if this Bolton's ire was focused on another man.

"Jon, I thought it was understood that we were only to bring our best soldiers," Roose Bolton's voice was soft, yet Ned could tell from the faces of the lords around the table that they all could hear him, "Tis Winter still. Do you plan to leave your smallfolk to die without a harvest?"

"Umber men can weather the storms of winter. We have done so for centuries!" the mail around the Greatjon clanged as he pointed at Roose.

"I suppose men with such small brains have less requirements for food," the Bolton responded, his face as placid as it had ever been. The Greatjon reached for his sword, before another large man behind him, this one with a snow bear skin over his head, reached down and held his sword arm down.

"Calm yourself nephew," hissed Mors Umber, holding down the Greatjon with help of his two sons. That it took three men of their size to do so only showed the immense girth of Greatjon.

"Ten Silver Stags on Greatjon," a voice from House Cerwyn suddenly spoke up.

"I'd wager a Gold Dragon on Bolton," another from House Glover.

For what was the si…no, the seventh time this night, Ned felt the desire to toss himself off the Great Keep. This was the last meeting before the army around Winterfell would muster and march in the morning, as they needed to go south as quickly as possible. If Ned could, he would have already had the army marching tonight, but the last stragglers from the far houses of the Mountain Clans such as the Wulls had only arrived this morning. This was to be the meeting to determine the numbers they would be leaving with, and the plan for their march over the next few months. Yet for the past hour, it had been nothing but constant bickering and shouting and threats of duels. The meeting was to be done by now, so that the Lords may return to their men for the final preparations.

'Yet here we are,' he looked to his left at his master-at-arms, Rodrik Cassel, who was standing next to him and wincing as he looked over yet another brewing brawl. The thin man just shook his head, 'Fighting amongst ourselves as though only First Men are worth thinking of,' the story of the North, 'Tis the duty of House Stark to rein in these excesses-'

"Shove a fork in his eye!" Ned felt a large bead of sweat grow on his temple, and he rested his forehead in his hand, as he did not need to turn to his right to know that the "Dog of Winterfell" was doing his best to contribute to the carnage. The blue haired wildling almost danced as he placed a foot on the table to get a better angle, "Show that arrogant bastard to open his cunty mouth!"

'Language Cu,' Ned thought, 'Tis your mouth that kept Father from letting you come to Harrenhal for the Tourney or Riverrun for Brandon's wedding,' it took a moment for his thoughts to meet, 'though perhaps that is why you still live,' had he gone to the wedding with Brandon, Cu would have certainly been in Brandon's party at the Red Keep, 'Perhaps Father did protect you then…in his own way.'

It had been Ned's dog. A small, mid-sized hound that a seven year old boy had chosen from the litter not two years earlier. The Starks had heard the pup, for dogs that young are still pups at heart, shrieking from the kennels. Ned had arrived with Brandon and Lyanna, and seen a strange boy, barely clothed, eating at a slop of pork from a bone that had been meant for Ned's dog. The beast itself was continuing to cry out in pain, a sharp wooden branch through its neck. Ned would be forced to put the poor thing down, to cut his pup's head off, while the men-at-arms wrangled the small boy and dragged him to the courtyard.

Ned's father had then demanded to know where this boy's family was from. When the boy had said that they were beyond the great ice wall, there had been a shock. Some immediately called for the boy's head, and Rickard seemed to be considering it. Yet the boy had then offered something in return.

"I killed your dog," he had said, "Then let me take its place."

Brandon and Lyanna, wolf's blood pumping through them, had said that they should take the boy up on it. Rickard had looked to Ned, and said that since it had been his dog, it should be he who made the decision. Ned had looked to the boy, and whatever rage and pain he had felt had been dulled as he looked into the strange boy's red eyes.

"You will serve as the dog of House Stark, loyally, until I release you from your service."

And that had been that. Cu had been a "dog" for eleven years or so, though Ned had only been there for one of them, before he had been sent to the Vale. It was just as well, Cu's wilding nature mixed well with the wolf's blood of Ned's siblings. Despite his grin and laugh, Ned could see there was a rage in Cu's heart now. The boy was by their estimation fifteen years, and yet he had already forced his way into the host, and he would be marching with the army tomorrow. Despite everything, Ned felt no small comfort in knowing Cu would be there. He'd seen the boy…no, man, training in the yard.

'Oh no,' Ned thought, returning his attention back to the rabble of Lords about to cut into one another, 'I need to stop this before we waste ourselves on each other,' he winced as he thought about the tale he'd let his mind wander down, 'Father would never become so distracted.'

"Lords," Ned did not shout, but he attempted to project his voice with his belly. The Greatjon stopped struggling, while Roose Bolton merely turned his milk eyes toward Ned. Ned stared around the whole table, as the commotion waned. The lords, from Abel Ashwood to Hugo Wull, all looked at Ned expectantly. Ned, having to rely on Jon Arryn's words rather than Rickard Stark's, continued, "We are here for a greater purpose, our duty, beneath the words of the old gods, is to punish a monster who would commit such an injustice as the Mad King has committed."

"Exactly!" the Greatjon thundered, before pointing his finger back at Roose, "That's why-"

"However," Ned cut in swiftly, Jon Arryn's words to maintain balance shining bright in his head, "Tis also true that our duty as Lords is to our smallfolk," he looked over at Roose, "To allow them to starve this winter would be an injustice as well."

"Precisely."

"So…," Ned looked over his Lords, "I will put my trust in that balance," he waved his arms out to the whole of the crowd of Lords, "To you, my Lords," the lords stayed silent, yet for some reason, he saw their eyes shifting, looking at one another, "I trust the Lord of Last Hearth to know best for Last Hearth, and the Lord of the Dreadfort to know the best for the Dreadfort," he then continued to widen his gaze, "The same goes for Deepwood Motte, White Harbour, and Barrowtown. I trust you to know what's best for your lands."

"And what of the North itself," Roose Bolton's milky eyes seemed to be looking even more strangely at him then before.

"I trust you all realize that the North being safe is good for your lands as well," Ned offered, his eyes still darting back and forth. He cursed himself for having to rely on Jon's conciliation. Were his father or Brandon here, there would be none of this bickering, they would merely listen to them, as the mighty and deserved Lords of Winterfell. Unfortunately, Ned was but a second son, and could only do this. He was already preparing himself for the explosion of questions to come from the Lords, yet they remained…quiet.

"Aye," Greatjon finally said, "Good sense in that."

"I agree," Roose Bolton nodded, his pale eyes moving off Ned. As the rest of the lords began to similarly nod in approval, Ned had to suppress his need to exhale a huge breath. Would be best to wait until none of the Lords saw his fear at speaking above the lot of them. His near victory could easily become defeat.

"If I may continue," Roger Poole harrumphed, before then returning his eyes to the paper, "All together, with those last few numbers, our strength around Winterfell is at nineteen thousand strong, or shall be when the forces of Bear Island arrive later tonight," Ned nodded at that, "During our march, we should be able to meet the Crannogmen of the Neck," Howland Reed has sent a Raven declaring he would meet Ned there, "And beneath them, House Malister shall meet us as well," Jeffory Mallister had been killed by Aerys like Brandon, so his brother Jason had raised his banners as soon as he could, "Bringing our number to twenty-two thousand."

Ned nodded. At a time of greatest need, the North could produce up to fifty thousand men for battle. Yet with winter coming, and with harvests needing to be quickly gathered and stored…best to only take those most ready for battle, and leave the rest of the Small Folk to complete the gathering of food and protect their homes should disaster occur.

"We'll need for the Freys to let Lord Malister across the Twins for us to remain along the Kingsroad," Wyman Manderly, sitting on his chair not too far from Ned himself, massaged his jowls as he seemed to consider the plan, "And hopefully to bring his own forces up with us," he shook his head, "I have doubts though."

"I do as well," Willam Dustin, closest of any of the Lords along the table, only a few paces toward Ned's left, agreed, "Though, how can we ask for more, when the Tully's haven't called their banners for us either," his eyes wandering, "Our goal will have to be to move swiftly to meet up with Arryn's knights from the Vale unless someone can convince Hoster Tully to avenge his daughter's lost husband."

"Traitor," Cu cursed from Ned's right.

"Not truly," Willam said, not even looking over at Cu, "Already House Darry and several other River Houses have declared for the Dragons," Willam stroked his beard, "Is much to ask a man to fight his own bannermen for a fool who rode to his death."

Ned winced, and didn't even have to look to his right to know that Cu's was barely able to contain his anger.

"That fool is who we are marching off to avenge," Cu's voice cut through the hall, and Ned was about to stand up to get in the way of the wild man.

"I'm here to avenge my past Lord and keep my current one's head attached to his shoulders," Willam said back, his own eyes digging into Cu as he finally gave the wilding the time of day, "Those are my reasons for being here."

"Willam," Ned felt a shock in him, "My brot-"

"Brandon was to be your Lord," Cu cut Ned off, his hand slamming into the table, "And you dare speak of him in such a way," he then gave a smirk, "Was it something he did in Barrowtown? Did he take a whore from you?"

Willam's face reddened, and his right hand came to the hilt of his sword on his side, "The man stuck his head in too many places it should not be, and for that, he died," his free hand pointed in Cu's face, "You best be glad you weren't there, or you would have be a corpse alongside him."

Cu's face twisted into a furious scowl, and he pointed back, "Had I been with him, he would be standing here!"

"Oh, what would you do, you wilding pup?" Willam's glare was full of death as the kings buried beneath his barrows, "Do you think you'd be able to fight your way from the Red Keep, against knights of the Kingsguard?"

"Yes," Cu removed the long metal spear he'd held upon his back, something he'd been calling Steelbite, "Would you care to see what I'd do to them?"

"Ha," Willam Dustin produced his sword, "Oh, think you are some great warrior dog? I'll show you how foolish you ar-"

"ENOUGH!" Ned shouted at the top of his lungs, and the two men suddenly lowered their weapons. Ned felt a heat over his face greater than the largest kiln in Wintertown, "You two will put your damn weapons down, or I will lock you both in the Dungeons," his teeth bared at the Lords, "This is my hall, and you shall not shed blood in here," he glared at the two men, who were only moving slowly to do as he ordered, "By the Gods, I need you to put your weapons in Targaryen men, not each other."

The room got quiet once more. Cu and Willam still looked at one another with rage in both their eyes, before finally Willam put his sword in his hilt, and Cu placed his spear on his back. The tension, however, remained, as the two still seethed at one another. Ned could almost imagine what would happen. As soon as he would adjourn the meeting, the two would go to the yard and "practice" with one another. They would have their contest unless Ned ordered them to directly put into the dungeon…but that would only cause more problems. As he felt the need to rub his shoulders, he felt a meaty paw grab his shoulder. He looked back to see that Wyman Manderly was standing behind him, having waddled up after the outbursts.

"Lord Stark," Wyman whispered, "No more need be done tonight. I shall end this in a manner that will not result in bloodshed."

Ned took a moment to consider the offer, before nodding.

"My fellow Lords," Wyman pushed to the front, and his massive girth alone was enough to truly separate Ned's warring men, "I do believe we are at a crossroads. You both feel the other has dishonored you-"

"Dishonored me!" Cu let loose, pointing at Brandon once more, "He is dishonoring the whole of family Star-"

"Cu," Eddard raised his hand, and the wild man shut his mouth. Still, his red eyes were focused directly at Willam Dustin, who was glaring directly back.

"I do not care about the particular dishonors," Wyman said, before suddenly placing his hands on the table, "However, I know we can not have these bad feelings while marching out to war, so we must find a way to settle this impasse," for a moment Cu and Willam stared at one another, before slowly the Dustin nodded, and then did the Stark Hound, "Ah, good, so the question is then how to settle this. The good news is that we Manderly's have become adept at settling disputes in ways that don't involve the removal of other's heads."

He slammed two tankards down, one in front of Willam, and one in front of Cu.

"Who ever can drink the most," two servants emerged, each pouring what looked like small caskets of deep brown liquid into the tankards, "Shall be considered the winner by the gods," Ned looked at Wyman, and he could feel his mouth fall open. He almost spoke up, when suddenly Cu spoke up.

"Fine," he barked, grabbing the tankard by the handle. Willam stared at the tankard for a moment, still clearly shocked by the sudden suggestion of a drinking game, and Cu smirked at him, "What, scared of some hops and barley?"

"Should be you who is scared, pup," Willam reached out and grabbed up his ale as well, a small bit of fizz flowing off the side as he raised it to his lips, "I've been drinking for ten years now, and you haven't even grown a beard."

"I've been drinking for ten years as well!"

'The worst part is he's telling the truth,' Ned sighed, remembering the letter relaying the harvest festival incident where Cu and Brandon had both managed to drink enough Arbor Red to throw up half their stomachs only a year after he'd gone to the Vale. He then shook his head, as he saw the two enraged ben tip their tankards back, and massive amounts of liquid pour around their mouths as they began their contest, 'I must stop this before-'

"Of course, we can't just have these two enjoy the fruits of the Mander," Wyman snapped his fingers, and suddenly servants appeared next to many of the Lords around the table. They all had the sea green colors of House Manderly on, and all were distributing tankards or carrying pitchers of ale. As a great shout went up among the Lords, many of whom were quickly into their cups, "Now, be sure to not start any fighting, else I might have to remove you from the hall and your drink."

Ned finally reached out, and grabbed Wyman by the shoulder. Wyman looked at Ned, and just as Ned was about to call for him to end this, the fat man reached out to Ned's shoulder, and far too quickly for a man of his size, pulled him from his seat, and out of the Great Hall. Ned, suddenly out into one of the many side halls, looked at Wyman, and for a moment had a worry, but quickly felt the presence of Rodrik and his brother Martyn behind him, his two best guards. Finally, feeling safe with the brothers Cassel, Ned exploded.

"What are you doing Wyman?" as he yelled at the fat man, he pointed back into the hall, "Those lords have been at each other's throats all night, and you go ahead and fill their bellies with liquid foolery!" he then waved his hands wildly, "Not only that, you bring your men into my halls without alerting me."

"Well Lord Stark," Wyman was smiling at Ned, though there was no malice in the smile, "If you must know, I had your servants given a night of respite," as Ned was about to ask for an explanation, he was given one, "Your men and women have been forced to look after an army for weeks on end, best to let them rest before the final muster on the morrow," he then added, "And I can assure you Ned, that I have this situation under control. I've already brought singers in as well, and the threat of losing free drink shall keep the Lords of the North compliant until good cheer washes over them."

"Not all drink brings good feeling," Ned said, rubbing above the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, this drink will," Wyman leaned forward, so much so that when he next spoke, his jowls nearly touched Ned, "These are some of the Mander's special fruit," Ned stared at him for a moment, and just before he could ask, Wyman said, "And do not worry, this shall be safe for them. Besides, on the morrow, if there is any bad feeling between Lord Dustin and your hound, tonight's drinking shall leave them only the energy to muster, rather than to argue."

"I must make sure to never anger you, Lord Manderly," and Wyman guffawed, before slapping Ned on the back. Ned nearly fell forward, and he was reminded once again that despite his pliable appearance, there was no weakness in the Lord of White Harbor's body. A second later, Ned heard what sounded like instruments beginning to play, and Wyman smirked.

"Ah, my musicians are here as well," he said, "Another way to make this a time of good feeling."

"What of the rest of our preparations," Ned groaned, "We didn't even finish," he stopped as the fat man shook his head, "But, we only."

"Laid out our strategy as far as any of them need to know," Wyman cut him off, before looking behind Ned, "I suppose you all agree as well?" Ned turned, and as that the Cassel's had been joined by Roger Poole, whose shoulders were sagged as he stood next to the two men at arms. However, as one, all three nodded at the question.

"Aye," Rodrick said, "We have laid out our size, and mapped out route," Martyn nodded, "We've already laid out the marching order. We need not a van for the nonce, until we make it past the neck, and can assign the honor then. Or rather, you shall Lord Stark," he bowed his head slightly at Ned, and he couldn't help but feel heat rise up his neck.

'It's my father you should be saying this too,' Ned couldn't help but think, 'Not I,' Ned supposed he'd never be comfortable with the older man treating him as his lord, rather than some welp needing stern instruction on his work.

"I…I wish my father was here," he admitted, and he could see nods from the men around him, "There would be none of this," he waved back towards the hall, the sounds of the Lords diving into their drinks in there, "They would listen to him as their lord, and do as he said. I have to cajole and bark just to have a meeting complete without a head on a pike."

The four men around him looked at Ned. Their eyes were wide, before Rodrick shook his head, massive sideburns swaying left and right, and placed his hands on Ned's shoulders. The older man looked at Ned for a moment, and Ned could swear he could see tears in Cassel's eyes.

"Ned, you spent too much time down in the Vale," he then let go, and looked back, "Lord Wyman, I must go support your men in keeping the peace," he looked over at Martyn, "Come Martyn."

"Right brother," Martyn followed, though Ned wondered if he was wishing he could be free. His son Jory was preparing to join him in the journey south as a page, and he would like to make sure that Jory and his wife had a proper goodbye.

After a moment, he was left with Roger Poole and Wyman Manderly. They stared at one another, Ned looking at his Steward and Lord Manderly for answers. They themselves looked at one another before shaking their heads.

"Your father had his troubles with the Lords, certainly more than you seem to suppose," Roger finally admitted, "Though, I do understand Lord Stark, that you are having difficulties," Roger seemed to lean closer, the older man's eyes shooting up and down, "Tell me, how have you been sleeping?"

"Sleeping," Ned blinked, and tried to think on it, "Well, fine I suppo-"

"Don't lie to me Ned," Roger waved a finger, "I do not think you've slept in the Great Keep since you arrived two weeks ago," he then pointed at Ned, "I've seen you thrice come out from the guard house, rather than your bed chambers."

"My bed chambers are being used by Lord Bolton," Roose had needed a place to stay, and with the guest rooms filled up with so many earlier arriving lords, several rooms in the Great Keep had been needed to allow guests to sleep as they were due. The look his steward gave him almost caused Ned to cower. Roger had been his father's steward for decades.

"Your bed chambers," Roger said pointedly. And Ned felt his skin grow cold at the realization.

"No," Ned said, "No, those are my fath-"

"No, they are yours now," Roger said.

"I…I can-"

"You will," Roger let loose a groan, before placing a hand on Ned's shoulder, "By the gods, you must," unlike the Cassels, Steward Poole did start to cry, "I cannot lose another Lord."

"Rog-fine," Ned sighed, "I shall go to the keep," he looked back at Wyman Manderly, "Lord Wyman, do you believe you can control the rest of the night," he waved his hand back to the great hall, singing clearly flowing out of it, "If I must retire, I must have assurances that this shall not rage out of control," he tried his hardest to glare, though from how Wyman's face did not change, he supposed it wasn't very intimidating, "Twas you who suggested it."

"Aye, and shall be I who finish it," Wyman patted Ned on his back as he passed back towards the Great Hall, "Sleep Lord Stark, and enjoy the fruits of your labors. On the morrow, we march to victory," he then opened the door, and his smile widened further, "ah, my house song," he then began to follow the melody, "With the waves to rest our heads, ship beneath us as our beds-"

Wyman shut the door behind him. Roger sighed, before looking back at Ned, who could only nod. Wyman was a good bannerman…but a truly horrendous singer.

"Least it is not the Rains of Castamere," Ned said. The Steward looked back at Ned expectantly, and the exasperation was no longer pointed at the fat Andal that had just left their company. Ned blinked as Roger glared at him, his arms crossed across his chest, and he tried to think of why Poole would be mad at the menti-

…

"Shit."

He hadn't seen her since they'd arrived in Winterfell. The boat trip had lasted some ten days, as the first night of sailing had been their best. The rest of the time, the winds, and some mild storms kept them sailing far more slowly. Still, there had been no ships of Westermen searching for them, and they had found themselves passing into Blazewater Bay, and landing at Flint's Finger after seven days. As soon as Borah Flint had realized exactly who had sailed into his harbor, Ned had had been given a new ship to take them up to Torrhen's Square, and he had been allowed to write a letter to be sent out by every Raven the Flints had.

Three more days were spent on a boat, though the speed was far greater with a whole crew of sailors at the ready. When Ned had arrived at Torrhen's Square, House Tallhart was already almost fully mustered. Benjen had already called the banners, though Helmann Tallhart was willing to admit that it was heartening to hear that Ned was safely in the North.

And that he had a new wife.

The Flints had been courteous to not ask who the girl who'd arrived with Ned had been, the time they spent there had been short, with Artoria remaining at the docks to get on the second ship. Once the two were in Torrhen's Square, however, Ned realized that Tywin Lannister's announcement of the wedding had managed to get out of the Westerlands and into the North. Most everyone had still considered him a prisoner until he'd sent the ravens from Flint's Fingers, a political pawn until Tywin could use him. This had only been enforced when on the wedding day, Tywin had again sent out Ravens declaring them married.

Except now, he had appeared in a boat, safe from harm, with the very girl he had married. Before he could offer an explanation of the events however, Ned had insisted that he must ride to Winterfell to oversee the mustering of the banners, and Artoria, despite looking as though she had been tossed by the wind itself all the way this far from the Rock, had insisted on riding with him. He'd offered her the chance to rest in Torrhen's Square, where she might rest from the journey, but she forced her way on a horse, and the two had ridden the full three days until they had arrived outside Winterfell.

'To be home again,' Ned thought worriedly as he clambered up the stairs of the Great Keep, towards his fath-his solar. His father's rooms still…still weren't his. But, he could certainly sleep in the Solar, it had been a place for all the Starks, rather than just Rickard. Would also allow him to avoid the girl he now knew had been staying in those rooms for the past fortnight, 'Gods, it doesn't feel real.'

They were already singing songs, Ned knew, about his escape. They had the details all wrong, calling him things like Ned the Clever, a play on the Lannister's legendary ancestor. He certainly hadn't bribed his way out of the keep with stolen Lannister Gold. He most definitely did not drop the boat from all the way in the rooms they had been staying at. And absolutely, positively, not take Artoria's Maidenhead in Tywin's Solar.

'Gods,' he inwardly groaned, remembering his mortification when he'd heard that one being sung by a bard four days back, 'I haven't even seen her naked,' he then stopped for a moment, 'She hasn't seen me naked,' and then he blushed once more, slowing down as he walked upwards, thinking of himself without clothes, and grimacing as he thought of it, 'what would she think of me, nude?'

The only women to have ever seen him such had been his mother and-

"Who goes there," Old Nan suddenly appeared, her eyes peeking out as she opened a room on the third floor. That was Benjen's room, and the one he had still been using while he had been the Stark in Winterfell. He'd have to ask Benjen to do so again, "Oh…tis you Ned," the elder woman slowly reached her hands up to Ned's cheeks, and her wrinkles twisted, as her mouth turned upward, "Gods, you've grown so much. I can even feel your beard growing."

"I," Ned stared at her. The old servant had been called Old Nan when he'd been a boy, and she had grown older still in the years since. Her hair was beginning to fall out now, and what had once been gray was now white. He nearly choked for a moment, before stopping, breathing in, and then gently placing his arms around hers, "I am so happy to see you Nan. You're as beautiful as ever."

"Oh, stop, Ned, you'll make an old crone blush," she snickered, before placing a kiss on his cheek. Ned stopped, when he felt a distinct lack of teeth behind her lips, and Nan's age only further took up space in his mind, "No need to lie, I know the years have beaten me," she smiled widely, and Ned could see that she did seem to be missing half her teeth, "but I still keep fighting, as I can see you do as well."

"...yes," Ned nodded at her. Gods, whenever he thought about Winterfell beyond simply being a castle to host his army, it hurt. The years had stripped his childhood home of so much. Of Nan's teeth and hair, of men-at-arms and servants who had left or died.

Of Father…and of Brandon…and of Lyanna.

'No,' Ned felt his jaw tighten, 'No, I shall return her home,' he would win this war. He would see the dragons, king and prince, dead, and he would return his family, his whole family, home.

"I am," he continued to speak to Nan, though he had to catch himself, to keep himself in control of his words, "I am sorry I wasn't able to come and speak with you sooner," the past fortnight had been one of constant motion. He was fairly sure he hadn't sat down for a single meal, eating some food in hand as he walked from pavilion to tent to armory and back to the pavilion, "I should hav-"

"Ned, stop being so sorry," Nan shook her head, "I've seen you moving around like a chicken with it's head cut off, manic and then crashing once you have no more life in your limbs," Ned could imagine that would be how he might appear, "But still, it's good to see you, and good that you have finally finished those duties so you may tend to the last one before you go."

"Last du-I'm actually off to bed," Ned admitted, and Nan nodded, "I will be going to F-My Solar," gods it hurt to say it, "And I will be sleeping there tonight."

Old Nan blinked at him, before asking, "Not your rooms?"

"No," Ned shook his head, "No, those, not yet."

"But those rooms are where I set your little Lioness up," Nan stared at him, and then Ned felt his face fall.

'Artoria's been in Father's Room for the past two weeks!' he couldn't believe it. Did she no-of course she wouldn't. She had only been instructed to use the room, she hadn't meant anything by it, 'Calm down, you just need sleep.'

"Thank you Nan for making sure she's comfortable," he nodded, before moving from Nan and looking up, "I am glad to hear she had a bed chamber where she may be comfortable. I will be sleeping in the Sola-"

"Why?" Nan spat out, cutting him off, "Your wife isn't there, go to her!"

"Wh-" Ned turned back, looking at Nan, and instantly regretted doing so. The old woman was glaring at him as she had anytime he had been caught breaking a rule. Unlike Brandon, he'd never done so enough to build up a resistance to the sudden guilt that came from that look. He stopped, gathered his thoughts, and looked back at her, and asked the question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to, "Why?"

"So you can make a baby!"

"Nan," he had to end this now, before it got out of hand,"I am not sleeping with that girl," he shook his head, before throwing his hands up, "She's fifteen."

"A fully flowered girl closer to her sixteenth nameday than her fifteenth," Nan harrumphed, sticking her near toothless chin out, "Older then when I first had a baby put in my belly, and older than many other noble girls aside," Ned grimaced at that, about to say that it isn't a good thing that happens, but Nan cut his thoughts off, "Besides, she's your wife now, you've been betrothed for half a year, and married a full month, and you haven't laid with her?"

"No, I have been quite busy," the escape from Casterly Rock, the boats, the riding, the army. Gods, he hadn't really thought about this since Artoria had pulled out their sheet ropes, "She has-"

"A warm womb and a marriage cloak over her shoulders," Nan pointed a knarled finger in Ned's face.

"I don't even know if that counts," Nan raised a wrinkled eyebrow, "When I did so, I only used cloaks of Lannister colors. Does that mean that I am really her husband, or was I simply a breeding stud for Tywin Lannister's plans to conquer the North?"

"Your tastes are strange," Nan said, "Does that girl really hold so little appe-"

"Nan," Ned leaned forward, towering over the old crone, "Artoria is the most wonderful girl I've ever met. She's kind, and daring, and she dances so well," he stopped, feeling his cheeks warm, "But I don't know if she wants to be married to me. She was forced into this by her father, and I want her to marry me," he stopped, and remembered the time on the boat, "She…she was so quiet when we were alone on the boat, I…I wonder if she did all this, came all this way from a misplaced sense of duty."

"Duty, tis both your duty to have children," Nan snapped, causing Ned to refocus on her, "Were you to sleep with her to gain an army to fight the Dragons, would you."

"Of course," Ned added, "but that is different. There is nothing so urgent," Ned looked down as Nan just shook her head, "I will not force her into something she has no desire for."

"One would think a girl sailing a kingdom away from home would be enough to show what desires she has."

"I will not take what she will not give me," Ned said, eyes focused on Nan's. For a moment, they stood there silently. Ned almost sighed with relief when Nan looked away, disappointment on her face. He hated fighting with Nan, a woman who was the closest thing he had had to a grandmother. To disappoint her was something he took no pleasure in, but he would not be pulled from this. He then looked up, "Now, I must go to the Solar to rest. I promised Roger I would get some sleep."

Nan looked him over for a moment, "Does seem a bit early to turn in," she looked out, and saw that there was huge amounts of activity from the camps in and around Winterfell, "What time is it, hour after supper normally?"

"I believe," Ned tried to think of the timing of the meeting, before nodding, "Maybe a bit earlier. Perhaps three quarters of an hour."

Nan nodded at that. Ned, beginning to feel the weeks of movement and work, looked up hopefully at the stairs. He had been glad to see Nan, but he had not had much of any sleep, and how he was realizing how bone tired he was. He needed to get up there and lay down if he was to offer a proper commander to the men he would muster tomorrow. Just as he took one more step up towards the Solar, however, Nan grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him with a surprisingly powerful grip right in front of her face. She placed her nose directly above his shoulder, and took a massive sniff.

"What th-"

"You stink," she said.

"I wha-"

"You stink Ned," she emphasized the smell by nearly spitting with the k. Ned's eyes went wide, and frankly, he felt rather mortified by the sudden movement. He pulled the arm away from Nan as he stood back up, and then lifted his arm, and placed his nose beneath his…

"Oh Gods," Ned gagged, almost losing his balance and falling against the wall.

"When was the last time you bathed?"

"Chgh," Ned continued to cough, before catching himself, and shaking his head, "I don-," his eyes widened, "The day of the wedding," he had bathed to present himself before Tywin, and since then, he hadn't only barely had enough time to eat or sleep, he completely forgot about bathing, "Why hasn't anyone sai-"

"Because this is the North, and we are a bunch of smelly savages," Nan responded, "No, best you don't see that girl smelling like the rear end of a sick horse," Ned blushed, unable to come up with a response, "I must insist that if you are going to go into the Solar for the night, you at least go in clean," she glared at him, "I will not have you waft that smell in that place, no Ned I won't."

"...fine," Ned sighed, "Can you start me a ba-"

"At this hour," Ned felt like slamming his head into the wall, "No, no."

"Well then why did you sugge-"

"You'll have to use the hot springs."

"What?"

The Great Keep was the greatest piece of engineering the Starks ever created. Long ago, Winterfell had been like most castles in the North, cold and barely warmed by massive amounts of fire. Yet one day, around a millenia ago, a Stark by the name of Donnal had discovered a massive underground host spring. Using ingenuity and excellent iron pipes, a new keep was build to replace the first, with pipes taking hot water out from the springs, and pipe it through the walls and floors of a new Great Keep. The warmer building was the Starks greatest shield against Winter, one they had used to allow them to operate when their rival kings in the north could not.

There were spigots throughout the keep to allow for drawing of warm water, which allowed for easy baths…but it did require several servants to get a tub ready. That was why baths were usually once a week, so there could be enough workers to have the whole family cleaned at once.

Never once had Eddard Stark actually descended into the hot springs beneath the Great Keep. Certainly never had he considered it for a bath.

'I don't even remember an opening to the springs even existing,' he thought, shaking his head as he carried in his arms a new set of clothes, a drying cloth, and a rough bar of soap. Nan had managed to get him these quickly, all so he could go down into the springs, and wash himself. He had asked about possibly contaminating the water, though Nan had assured him that this section of the springs was where the pipes went after being pumped through the system. No chance of the runoff ending up in someone's throat.

As he marched down the stairs, he looked towards the cellar door he knew was there, and stared down towards it. He then looked back towards the short passageway towards the Great Hall, and then set down his things, and gave a short jog towards the meeting. It had been less than half an hour, but Ned just wanted a quick check to make sure that Wyman's plans had not yet gone horribly. Most of his worries died as he continued to hear singing from the hall as he approached, but twould not hurt to che-

As he opened the door, he saw that two men were swinging their tankards while they danced on the table, ale sloshing out from the tops as they swayed back and forth. Cu and Willam, only an hour ago preparing to kill one another, were now shoulder to shoulder, leading the the chorus of Norther Lords, all of whom appeared to be nearly as drunk as them. Nearly, because Ned would have sworn the two men were blushing school boys with how red their faces were.

"Say goodbye to weavers town!" they sang, and Ned nearly felt his jaw drop, before Wyman Manderly suddenly appeared in his face, his massive girth cutting off his view of the hall, and likely any view of anyone else to him. All the while, the singers continued to repeat the Manderly's house song, "Say so long-"

"Ned," Wyman laughed, doing his best to push his lord from the room, "I thought you had gone to bed."

"I…," Ned blankly stared, "I-what did you give them?"

"A special drink," Wyman's jowls jiggled as he broke into a massive smile. Ned thought he looked like a particularly pleased toad at that moment, and almost felt a shiver down his spine.

"This won't kill any of them, right?"

"Oh Ned," Wyman patted Ned's shoulder, "If I wanted to kill any of you, you'd already be dead."

"Hhhhhh," Ned sighed, reaching up, and rubbing his temples, closing his eyes as he imagined what strange concoction the Manderlys had developed to get this specific response to becoming drunk. Not that Ned couldn't see men becoming happily drunk, but for it to be in this manner, and this universal, "You Manderly's never cease to amaze me."

"Good Lord, I am happy to be of service," Wyman grabbed Ned in a bear hug, and suddenly, Ned wondered if Wyman himself had taken a few glasses of this strange brew, "But tell me, why aren't you asleep."

"Nan said I should take a bath," Ned admitted, and Wyman looked at him strangely, "I do smell something foul, and beneath the Great Keep, there is a hot spring, so I shall be beneath there for a bit before I head up to the Solar to go to bed."

"Ah," Wyman nodded, "Well, I can see the need for that yes," he leaned forward, "Though, Ned, I must say, of all of the men here, I can assure you that you in no way stink the most," he then twisted his head in the direction of who Ned guessed was the Greatjon. Ned guessed that the general smell of all of his bannermen was why he had not quite realized just how much he stunk himself.

"I appreciate that," Ned said, before placing his own hand on Wyman's shoulder, "I'll leave the rest to you."

And with that, he was back off, leaving Wyman to finish off the whole event. He had…he had had quite enough for one day. As he made it back to the cellar door, he picked up his things, and opened it up. Walking through the cellar, he saw the darkness outside the hall through the small windows. He looked around, and to his shock, right where Nan had said it was be, was a stair case down further. He looked down the stairs, and saw a large oak door, with a torch and oil on the side. He took a moment to descend, and then lit the torch while holding the rest of his things in his arms. He then opened the door revealing a pitch black room, and as he had been instructed, moved the torch to his right, and suddenly saw another torch light up. He then moved quickly over to his left, and did the same. With two torches lit, he was finally able to see a bench, where he placed his things. He then followed the light to two more torches, and slowly, the room was revealed to him.

It was massive. A huge set of caverns that seemed at least the size of the cellar itself, if not around half bigger. He had been walking around a short stone platform, around ten feet in width, and holding a half dozen torches, all of which he had lit, now allowing him to see further into the cave. And further into the cave was a massive pool. Around a dozen larger boulders and sharp rocks sticking out of it, a series of pools seemed to extend into the darkness. And from the pools, Ned could see steam rising from the surface of the water, with small bubbles popping on top of the surface.

'But,' Ned's mind turned to the torches, 'How does the smok-' and then he looked up, and he wondered no longer. There were several circular holes cut into the cave top, and from there, he could in fact see some of the stars. He could also see black smoke escaping through the holes closest to them, and thus removing the danger of loss of air. Then he noticed that around a few of these holes, the pipes from the Great Keep came down, and he saw several of them just above the water's surface, with some water dropping out into the pool. He walked over to the closest pipe, and stuck his hand into the water. When it did not burn him, he pulled it back, and squeezed his hand.

"Warm, yet not scalding," after being piped through the keep, likely some heat had been lost. Ned then held his hand at the surface fo the water, placing only the back of his hand into the spring, "Warmer, but not bad at all," he then looked up, and saw how the fires created dancing shadows along the walls from where they interacted with the rocks jetting out of the pool, and how the water itself seemed to shine with the extra light, "Gods, how have I never been here?"

He stared at it for a moment, before shaking his head, "Perhaps Father thought we'd hurt ourselves as children playing down here," he could almost imagine a child falling on one of the rocks, "Still, I could have sworn that nothing like this actually existed. Tis greater than I could have dreamed of."

Ned took his time to remove his clothes, and then he walked to an iron rail sticking out of the water. He reached his hand to the wooden handle above it, and gripped it. Glad that there was no burning from the heated metal, he took his first steps down, to one of the steps that Nan had told him about, and felt everything beneath his knees be covered in the water.

'Good gods,' he thought, as it seemed every speck of dirt that had been on his lower legs suddenly be wiped away, only an all encompassing warmth flowing through his toes, 'This, gods I needed this.'

He took another step, and then felt the water cover everything up to his waist, and the warmth only felt better than before. He had been so covered in filth, yet those dark crevices of the body were suddenly unable to hide anymore. His thighs, his groin, his ass. It felt so good.

So good-

SPLASH

-That he had to have his whole body this warm. Every part of him, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, was now bathed in the warm waters of the pool. He pulled his head up to breath, and then looked around at the dancing lights and the shapely shadows and the steam gliding over the top of the water.

'Gods,' he couldn't help but smile, 'Gods, gods, gods,' he then laid back, and floated. They'd often gone to the White Knife to learn to swim, so Rickard would not risk one of his children drowning while on a ship, so he'd learned how to float. But he hadn't expected to ever use such skills in a way that felt this good, rather than for simple survival, 'This…this may be the best room in all of Winterfell.'

'And I haven't been here before! How? Surely father should have mentioned it,' He stared up into the ceiling, and came to float beneath one of the holes leading up to the surface, and Ned was met with a view of a dozen or so stars. Ned felt his smile disappear to a frown, 'Why didn't you show this to me,' perhaps since he was the seco…no, no that didn't make any sense, 'it's like…'

"It's like this place was just put here magically."

He'd known that the springs existed, and that they fed the Great Keep. But to have this massive baths. Rickard would have told him. Yet Nan had acted like it has always been here. This whole thing was getting too confusing, especially for how tired he was.

"I need to go ahead and get clean," he said, pushing his feet down, and glad they his somewhat flat stone, "Wash myself, then get back up to the Solar for bed," this would be something to explore later, when he had returned with Lyanna and Rhaegar and Aerys were dead. He looked at the soap, and cringed as the rough parts of it scratched into this skin. Still, it worked, and he could feel even more dirt and grime and caked sweat washed away from his body. He looked over, and saw that the suds were being pulled deeper into the cave, "Must be a small underground stream," was certainly convenient for washing away any filth from cleaning. Ned's grimace grew as he carefully moved the soap around his groin, "can't afford to cut into he-"

CREAK

Ned stopped, realizing that someone had just opened the door to the spring, 'Must be Nan here to check I made it,' he thought, before turning back to wave at the old woman. He had to thank her after all.

"Nan, good to-"

Artoria was standing there, eyes wide. In her arms was a smattering of things quite like had been in arms just a few moments ago, clothes, cloth and soap. Though unlike Ned, she also had a small basket around her left elbow, and in her mouth was a small piece of bread. She was staring at him as he stared at her, and for what seemed like hours, they just stayed in those positions, staring at one another.

"What the!" Ned finally jumped upon realizing that the girl was now watching him bathe, flinging his arms up in a massive splash. As he did so, her eyes focused on his arms, and for a second, it looked like some terror left her eyes as they focused on the soap in his left hand. Ned, barely registering the look, pushed himself behind a small outcropping, and then finally regained some control of himself, to stare at the woman blonde, "What are you doing down here?"

"...," Artoria's eyes were still following Ned. A second later, she lifted her jaw, and snapped down the rest of the bread into her mouth, and began to furiously chew. Ned was just glad that she was still fully clothed. Blue wool doublet, with a long blue undershirt, a pair of trousers, and a belt. Then, he noticed her swallow the rest of the bread, before she finally spoke, "I am here to bathe, my…my lord," Ned, were he not feeling like a dog with its tail stepped on, would have winced at the title.

Did not sound right in her voice.

"I…yes that makes sense," Ned nodded, still keeping himself from her sight behind that small rock outcropping, "Very much makes sense," he then looked at her, "How…how did you know of this place?"

"Your servant woman, Nan," Artoria said, "She offered it to me on the first night here in Winterfell, a way to relax and clean myself after the journey," yes, that did make sense, if everyone was too busy to draw a bath, best to send his "wife" down here, "I…I have not had many things to do here in Winterfell," she pointedly looked away from Ned, her mouth clearly forming a frown, "So, each night, around an hour and a quarter after supper, I came down here and bathed."

'I suppose for noble lady such as her, from a house so wealthy, she would be expected to bathe quite ofte-wait,' Ned caught something in what she said, and then looked at her.

"Every night, around an hour and a quarter after supper?"

"Yes?" she seemed confused. Ned rubbed his forehead for a moment, feeling a bulging vein along his temple.

"And Nan knew about this?"

"Why yes," Artoria added her mind trying to follow where Ned was leading her, "I asked Nan to allow me to have a time so no one el-" and she had realized what had happened, "Oh."

'Nan,' Ned rubbed his eyes with the hand without soap in it, his embarrassment mixing with his frustration, 'You best be glad I'm leaving tomorrow, or I might be tempted to deny you supper for the night.'

"I am most sorry about this my lady," Ned said, slowly pushing his way through the waters. Artoria looked away as he did so, clearly embarrassed as he was about this whole affair, one that if it got out would likely be the talk of every mummer show from here to Volantis, "I shall get out, and leave you to your bath."

Ned, seeing that Artoria was looking away, half swam and half walked his way to the steps up to the walkway where his clothes and drying cloth were. As he did so, the room remained silent besides the splashing of the waters against rock and himself. He did his best to move as quickly as possible, to try and get out of her way without causing any untoward bad feelings. Just as he was about to take his first step up, however-

"Wait!"

Ned stopped in shock at the declaration. Artoria's head was only halfway away from him now, the left side of her face still facing him, doing her best to only barely look at him as he was, now about to get out of the water. Her face was flushed, and yet, her frown was…strange, and her head was still pointed downward. She seemed to grip her fingers together, and then suddenly place her things, the basket and the clothes and the soap, down on the nearest bench. She then face him fully, her eyes still observing the ground beneath her.

"Would…would you prefer to stay and bathe together my lord."

…

"No," Ned could feel his face flush, "No, that will not be necessary at all my lady," he quickly got his feet onto the first step, and was already out to his waist, "There is no need to worry yourself. Tis not something that is required of-"

"Required?" and then he could see he'd said something wrong, as her eyes were no longer focused on the ground, "REQUIRED!" she shouted, and then in a second, her fingers came up to the spring around the neck of her doublet, and she began to pull it free. The sudden motion caught Ned in horror, as she continued to shout, "OF COURSE TIS REQUIRED! I'M YOUR WIFE!"

"But-" the thought of the sham of a ceremony slipped into his mind, but was quickly pulled out as the front of the doublet came undone, revealing Artoria's completely blue undershirt as it hit the ground beneath her.

"YOU TOLD ME TO ACCOMPANY YOU AS YOUR WIFE!" Artoria stalked towards him, and for the first time since they had met, he saw abject rage in her green eyes, "YOU MADE ME ABANDON MY FAMILY, MY HOME!" she then pointed down at him, her bare feet suddenly splashing into the water, and Ned feeling his eyes widened, "AND SINCE WE HAVE ARRIVED HERE, I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN SOME HOUSE CAT!"

"A Hou-"

"I HAVE BEEN HERE, EATING, SITTING, AND WAITING FOR YOU TO TALK TO ME FOR A FORTNIGHT!" they were only a few feet away, and because of the steps this was perhaps the first time she'd ever appeared taller than Ned, "I MIGHT AS WELL NOT EVEN BE A PERSON, JUST SOME TROPHY OF THE LANNISTERS," she then glared at him, "You just don't find me pretty, do you?"

"Wai-"

"You think me repulsive," she glared with hate at him, "Must be the muscles."

"Muscle-"

"These muscles," she then flexed her right arm, and Ned could see the cloth bend around the definition of her arms, "They remind you of your defeat don't they," he was too focused on her upper arm, and how the cloth was barely managing to hold together around it, to even care about the mention of Harrenhal, "This overly muscled body must be so unplea-"

She had stopped, her eyes still focusing down at him. Yet, for some reason, the rage was dissipating, and in its place, as she looked down towards him, they began to be replaced with something else. Her shoulders began to shake, and her face began to become as red as cherries. Ned stopped, and as he regained some semblance of understanding of his body, he realized what had caused this. He felt his own cheeks grow even warmer, but he took in a deep breath.

"I do not find your muscles unpleasant," he said.

"I-I I can s-I," she stuttered, before shaking her head, and then turning around, facing the door, "My Lord, it was good to see you this evening, I hope you have a pleasant rest, good night!"

"Wait," Ned finally pulled himself up by the iron rod, ignoring the slight burning sensation of the heated metal, and managing to get to the middle step, with only his shins and feet still in the water. Whatever embarrassment he would feel would have to be dealt with later.

'I shouldn't have waited so long,' he thought to himself, anger at his own cowardice filling him, 'She clearly need-"

SLAM

"SO POUND YOUR FEE-Ah!"

Standing in the doorway were Cu and Willam. They were both already bare chested, and, and the tankards they were carrying were empty, clear spillage along the outside of the cups. They were still arm in arm, and both of them were looking at Artoria for a moment. Before he could even realize what he was doing, Ned was out of the water, and was standing between them and her.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I believe that might be my fault," Ned looked behind the two drunk men, and saw Wyman, and the Greatjon…and Roose Bolton, in similar states of undress as the two drunks, all having removed their upper clothing, with Roose Bolton only having a thin cotton undershirt keeping Ned from having to see his bare chest.

'A small mercy,' he thought, as Cu and Willam were still processing what they were seeing, though, 'his eyes went back to Artoria, who he could see was shaking in embarrassment, 'why though, you have more clothes on than any of us? Hell, you aren't showing an inch more skin than you do by walking about!'

"Yes," Wyman admitted, his flabs of fat bouncing as he spoke, and reducing any of the…excitement that Ned had been feeling for the past few moments to nil, "I spoke up about you having a bath, and then Cu there," he pointed at the still dumbfounded hound, "Said he knew where, and that we should come and join you."

"Why?"

"Well th-," Wyman blinked. And then blinked once again, placing a finger to his face before shrugging, "It seemed like such a good idea when we were in the hall? He did say there would be more than enough room."

'Gods, this is just another thing for the pile,' Ned thought, slowly rubbing his temples, "Wyman, would you please leave. I and my," he breathed in deeply, "Wife, have matters to discuss."

"Of course my lord," Wyman then snapped at the Greatjon, who quickly laughed, and snapped up both Cu and Willam onto his shoulders, the men's jaws still hanging loose from the sight in front of them, "I hope you and your wife have a pleasant rest of the evening," and then, faster than Ned could quite fathom, Wyman was out the door, and quickly followed by the Greatjon, who was laughing the whole way out.

"HAVE FUN NED!" the Umber finished, as he disappeared into the cellar.

That left Roose, who was staring at Ned with his milky eyes for a moment longer. Then the Bolton turned, walking from the room. Ned, once he heard the sound of feet disappear, walked over to the door, and closed it. He then turned back to Artoria, who was still shaking, but had managed to drag herself to a bench, and was holding her arms close to her chest, her feet soaking from having been in the water for so long.

"Do you wish to have a talk?" he asked, grabbing up his fresh pair of breeches and quickly covering his groin. The covering of his body honestly made Ned feel more open to speaking, "I am ready to speak with you about," his mind raced through a half a hundred topics, "Everything. I'm ready to speak with you about everything."

"...I'm sorry about knocking you from the lists."

Ned blinked, his new trousers right below his knees as he heard that. He felt the need to turn back to her, but didn't and quickly pulled them all the way until they reached his waist. He tied them quickly and tightly, to make sure no more mishaps occurred around his groin. He then finally turned back to her.

"There is nothing to apologize for," Ned said, "I'm a shit knight after all, I would have been bounced from my horse quite quickly had you not done so. You earned your victory at that joust, and I most certainly did not."

"That's not true," her expression didn't change, but she did give him a small side eye, "You are not skilled with a lance, but you ride a horse well. You were better than several other knights there," she then shook her head, "But I am sorry. You were one of the people I hurt with my actions during that tourney, and had I just shown better judgment, then I wouldn't have dishonored you, or the other nights, or my family."

'Tywin Lannister isn't family,' Ned gritted his teeth and he reached over for his own, gray undershirt. The image of Artoria' face, bruised and swollen entered his mind, 'Gods, family doesn't hurt family like that.'

"Well, I can say I did appreciate the dance at Harrenhal, so that more than made up for the joust," he tried to laugh, though even he could tell it was fake. Artoria looked at him, before shaking her head, "I must admit, I could not have gotten through that without you. You were a magnificent dancer. I thought you said you were not trained in it."

"I'm not," Artoria looked down at her feet, "But…that song. It was as though I'd heard it before, somewhere deep in my heart," she placed her hands on her chest, "Like I'd done that dance, and seen those moves," she shook her head, "Bah, mayhaps just some strange vapors."

"Mayhaps," all the while Ned looked at the massive springs around them, another thing that shouldn't be there, but was, "Mayhaps."

"But," she finally turned her face towards Ned, "I must ask, what do you think of me?"

"I think," Ned finally tied his new doublet on, the warmth of his body now being contained, "I think you are a beautiful girl," he remembered her standing beneath the moonlight of the window, "Gods, you are beautiful," he smiled at her. Artoria puffed out her cheek for a moment, looking away.

"I suppose any man says that about the woman he marries."

"That…I," Ned groaned, before walking towards her. He then reached into the basket, and smiled when he felt another piece of bread inside. He sat down on the bench next to Artoria, and handed it over to her. As he expected, she quickly inhaled the food, and her mood seemed to improve, "I must tell you, had I known that I would be married to you that night after the dance," he laughed a bit to himself, "I would have thought that the Gods themselves had sent you down to me."

He could see red return to the girl's cheeks, though it disappeared as she grabbed another handful of the bread and shoved it into her the next few minutes, they just sat there, slowly pulling pieces of bread from the basket. Ned himself hadn't eaten since breaking his fast, so the food did feel good filling his belly. Yet despite his hunger, even he could not keep up with the pure speed that the girl next to him was showing. She had likely already eaten half of the loaf herself, and more than likely had already had supper as well.

'Where does all that go?' Artoria's body was still very thin. Were it not for her face and hair, Ned would have not been surprised to learn that she was a boy, not a girl, with how her body had developed, 'Ah, best just not think about such things.'

"So," after the bread was finished, Artoria spoke up once more, "Should I join you in your bed after I finish my bath?" Ned felt his face flush once again as Artoria did her best to keep her eyes on her feet. And once again, the only sound in the room was the bubbling of the springs in front of them. After more than a moment, she spoke up again, "Eddard?"

"...No," thought when Artoria turned at him again, he had his hands out and tried to form his most conciliatory posture.

"Why not?" she asked.

"You are too young," Ned said. It was the best response of all he could think of. A birthing bed for a woman was always dangerous, and for a girl only halfway to sixteen it was even moreso. Best to keep her here, and then when he returned from the war, it would be in a year, and…

'Gods,' Ned thought, 'I'd only have to deal with it then,' he then looked at her again, 'If I do come back, and do not leave her a widow.'

"I am not too young," Artoria said, staring up and Ned could guess it was through one of the wells that showed the stars, "I am the same age as my mother was when Jamie and Cersei were conceived."

"...," Ned did some quick math in his head, "but they are two years older than you," Artoria nodded, "that would mean she was born in 250 after the conquest, and Tywin was born in-"

"242," she said.

'Gods,' Ned shook his head, 'I'm only four years older than you, and I feel wrong at times looking at a girl so young. Tywin was sleeping with a girl eight years his junior,' he had known most his life that women were expected to sleep with men they married, many times much older than them, but the thought of a girl, who in his mind was far too much like Artoria for his comfort, sleeping with Tywin Lannister, 'It seems…wrong.'

"As I said," Artoria continued to stare at the stars, "I am not too young for a man your age."

"...No," Ned just stared at the bubbling waters he'd only recently discovered, and felt his face grow more flush, "Though, I must say I do not yet feel as though I am a man," he gave a small chuckle, "I still feel as a boy," he imagined for a moment his father sitting here, possibly using the waters to soothe his old bones, "Wishing to have his father's wisdom, and instruction."

"My father always said it was my duty to have children," Artoria said, "Though, I foolishly thought I might help him in other ways," she let out a small snort, "That, if I won the tournament, I could request that I take Jamie's place in the Kingsguard," she shook her head, "Was the height of foolishness."

Ned couldn't help but nod. During his time in Casterly Rock, it had become obvious how much Tywin hated not having Jamie as his heir, and that one day Tyrion might inherit Casterly Rock. He supposed that had been the original plan for Artoria's children, that they would be the ones to take over. Artoria trying to take the place of Jamie might make a certain sense, but considering Aerys reaction, it had failed from the start.

And yet…

"I am still glad you did so," Ned said, and then Artoria's head snapped towards him, "If you hadn't gone to the lists, you wouldn't have stayed for the Tourney, or that dance that night," he felt heat rise up his cheeks once more, "And if you hadn't stayed, I wouldn't have met you."

…

"Then why do you keep keeping me from your bed?" she asked, "I do not understand. You say you do not find me unpleasant, you know I am not too young," she then glared at him as he was about to speak up again, silencing his question about her age, "You say that you do not regret me humiliating you on the lists. That you are happy to have it done so you could have met me, and then spent days locked in my family's home, and then weeks traveling in an uncomfortable and smelly boat," she placed her hands on his shoulders, and shook him slightly, "I do not understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"DO YOU WANT ME!?"

"YES!"

Artoria's face turned redder than earlier. She covered her mouth, and Ned, after everything he'd been through, couldn't hold it in any longer. He stood up, and stared down at her as he felt tears building up in his eyes.

"Gods, Artoria, I want you," he continued, not caring that he was openly crying, "I've wanted you since that night at Harrenhal, when your hand left mine after the single greatest five minutes of my life," he paced around a bit, suddenly feeling a strange energy, "I wanted you when I rode into Casterly Rock. I wanted you every night I was staying in that wretched place. I wanted you when we climbed down to your uncle's room, when I saw you bathed in moonlight. I wanted you every night on the waves," he shook his head, "But there are some things I want more than you," he was really crying now, "I want my father back. I want my brother back. I want my sister back," he stopped for a moment, before finishing, "And along with that…" his eyes met hers directly.

"I want you to be happy."

"Hap-"

"Artoria, do you want me?" she opened her mouth to respond, "No be honest," her mouth stayed open, but she could see that something wasn't coming out, "I don't want you to just sleep with me because of some sham marriage your father forced you into. I want you to make your own decision, to choose what you want to do."

"It is my du-"

"Don't think of me as a duty, gods please don't," he didn't dare touch her, "Stop thinking your father is staring over your shoulder every moment of your life," and as she was about to speak up, "And please don't think that you should act like I'm over your shoulder either," he stopped, "I should apologize, I wasn't fair to you when requesting you leave with me, on the boat," Artoria didn't say anything, though a slight change in expression told Ned she had been about to bring that up, "Please, I want you to make your own decision. I want you to do what you want to do, without thinking about being a limb for someone else."

Artoria stayed silent for a moment. Ned just stood there a few feet away, feeling more naked even now that he was fully clothed. He slowly placed his hand on the door to the cellar, and then looked back at the girl who was his "wife".

"Do you want me, Artoria?"

"...I don't know," she was looking at her hands, slowly squeezing them together in frustration. Ned looked down, and then, something felt weird.

'At least she didn't say no,' He admitted to himself, a mix between a smile and a frown on his face.

"I'll leave you to your bath then," he said, pushing open the door, and quickly closing it behind him. He did not hear another word from her. The cellar was colder than the room behind him, so it was best to leave the room before he let the heat out. At least…so she might have a private and pleasant experience.

'Gods Ned,' he thought to himself, slowly climbing his way to the Solar, somehow even more exhausted than before the bath, 'You can never make anything easy for yourself, can you?'

"Gods Damn," the rings under Cu's eyes looked as though they had been carved by Bran the Builder, "What the fuck kind of ale was that last night?"

He was riding his horse only a few feet from Ned, though it would be better to think of him as being carried by the beast. He was in Ned's personal guard, leading the Stark forces from Winterfell at the front of the whole army. Alongside Cu, filling out the rest of Ned's guard, rode Martyn and Rodrick Cassel, Martyn's ten year old son Jory, Hullen, his stableman, Nan's two middle-aged sons Biggs and Wedge, Theo Wull of the mountain clans, Mark Ryswell, a cousin of the Lord of the Rills, and Willam Dustin.

"Does seem quite peculiar," the Lord of Barrowtown stopped, and nearly vomited. He was the only Lord to insist he would be part of Ned's guard, instead of commanding his own troops. He had a few knights he trusted to lead them, and he had said Ned needed someone to keep Ned safe. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed at the implication, but he guessed that Willam meant nothing too harmful from it, "I can barely remember anything from last night," he then looked over at Ned, and then giving the him a very tired but very knowing smirk, "Well, almost anything."

Ned sighed. Of all the things for them to remember, the image of him nude next to Artoria in the act of undressing near a hot spring…

"Yeah," Cu brought his horse up next to Ned on the other side, and reached his free arm around, and pulled Ned into a very awkward embrace, "My word Ned, Brandon and I used to joke you were so cold that you probably couldn't ever get stiff with a woman," he then burst out laughing, before suddenly letting go, and placing his hands on his ears, "Ow, my ears," he then smiled, his big dumb toothy smile, "But you showed us. I can tell you, the way you and your lady wife were, you certainly aren't made of ice."

"No he is not!" Willam laughed, only to throw his hands up to his head as well, "Ow, my ears."

'It's good they didn't kill each other,' Ned told himself, desperately not looking into either man's eyes, 'it's good they didn't kill each other,' had he been told that Willam and Cu would be more trouble as friends than as enemies, Ned wouldn't have believed it, but the two seemed to have decided to test him anyway, 'It's good they didn't kill each other.'

"HA! NED!"

"Ow my ears!" both Cu and Willam slapped their hands to the sides of their heads as GreatJon Umber rode up next to the party. Followed by two older individuals, a man and a woman, both with streaks of gray hair through brown hair, and with a young man riding behind the the man. On their chests was the massive Mormont bear on a field of evergreen trees, and all three were watching Ned warrily.

"Good morrow Lord Stark," Jeor, Head of the House of Mormont, said, his long beard dipping as he bowed, "We must apologize for arriving so late. Bear Island is far, and the storm kept us from sailing for far too long."

"There is no need for an apology Jeor," Ned bowed his head as deeply as he could, "My father said nothing but great things of the warriors of Bear Island, it is an honor to have you march with us."

"I'm sure," the woman next to Jeor, Maege Mormont, the She-Bear, said as her horse trotted next to Jeor's, "Though I must admit I am a bit disappointed, from what I've heard from around the camp, things were rather exciting last night before we arrived," she looked back to the younger man behind Jeor, "Isn't that right Jorah."

"Yes Auntie," Jorah nodded his head. At that, the She-Bear laughed.

"Yes, twas a great night!" Ned was rather glad that he hadn't actually drank any of that strange brew of Wyman Manderly's "We drank, we sang, we danced," and then the Greatjon threw his arm towards Ned, "And Ned fucked his wife!"

'Oh fuck,' Ned desperately wished at that moment to fall off his horse and break his neck. Any hope he had had of the whole incident in the springs blowing over was well and truly dead. Just as he tried to figure out how to explain himself, he heard Maege scoff.

"You don't need to keep saying it," the She-Bear grumbled as she gripped onto the reins of her horse, all the while Ned could see a blush on Jorah behind her, "You already told us all last night when we arrived in from the cold."

"W-what?"

"Yeah," Cu rubbed the back of his head. Ned supposed he had at least had the decency to not spread out what he'd seen, and from the look on Willam's face he supposed the Dustin had had a similar feeling, "When we all got back to the hall, the big guy," GreatJon laughed at the description, "Just started shouting, "Ned is fucking his wife! Ned is Fucking his wife!" over and over again," he shook his head, "I think he was shouting it all the way to his tent too."

'Gods why?' Now Ned really did want to fall and break his neck. Yes, it would mean he'd have to explain to his father that he'd died from embarrassment without having avenged the deaths of his family, but it would also mean that he wouldn't have to deal with half the North thinking he'd taken time away from planning for his campaign to sleep with Artoria in the baths, 'I'm a maid, and yet somehow I'm still nothing more than an object of perversion.'

"Who was shouting what?"

The instant Ned heard that voice, he nearly did fall off his horse. Catching himself quickly, he turned, and saw a knight cantering on a horse towards his group. The knight was thin, even on the horse, and Ned could tell the armor was not completely correctly fitted, with a few mismatching pieces of armor. But what gave the identity of the knight away was the blue shield with a gold lion on it. The knight came up next to Ned, and then flipped open its visor.

"I heard you were speaking of something last night," Artoria was smiling at him, though he could sense some discomfort with how she moved, "I wished to hear what was so funny for my Lords bannermen."

"Artoria?" Ned couldn't help but ask. He looked her over, "What a-"

"I shall be joining you, my Lord," she patted her shield, "I believed that I might be useful to you."

"Your armor barely looks like it's been put to-"

"This was what I was able to scrounge up this morning," Artoria did nod at the question, her smile twitching slightly at the likely uncomfortable armor around her, "Most of it was for young men, but it shall protect me in battle without much difficulty," Ned looked her over.

"Girly," Cu cut in, wheeling his horse around Ned to come up on Artoria's side, "What makes you think you are riding down to war with us?" he made the point of emphasis by waving Steelbite in front of Artoria's face, his leather armor giving him greater agility of his body.

"If you must know," Artoria, sound all of the daughter of a high lord, said, "I saw my husband leave for war, and I wanted to fight alongside him."

"What?"

'... "I Wanted".'

"Artoria," Ned spoke up, and Ned could see fear enter the girl's eyes, "When we next reach a place where we shall rest, perhaps around Seaguard, we are going to have to get you properly fitted armor," and then the fear disappeared, and she seemed to let loose a breath that she had been holding in.

"Ned?"

"Cu," Ned said, "My wife has climbed with me down the side of Casterly Rock, sailed with me around Cape Cracken, ridden hundreds of miles in the mid of winter, and had to deal with my unfathomable stench the whole way. I think she's earned the right to join me on the rest of this journey."

"Bu-"

"Besides," Ned let out a little laugh, before tapping the gold lion on her shield, "The knight with this sigil knocked out a dozen knights in the greatest tourney the seven kingdoms has ever seen. I got knocked on my ass in the first round," he looked into Artoria's jewel green eyes, "What sort of commander would I be to not take advantage of such an asset."

"Ned," now it was the GreatJon who spoke up, "You aren't thinking straight," Ned turned to the massive man, waving his hand around freely, "There are things that a woman is made for, and what a man is made for," only then did Ned suddenly notice a shadow slowly trotting towards the massive Lord of Last Hearth, "I know you both had fun last night, but you cannot allow your cock to lead you to foolishness. A woman is absolutely not meant for figh-"

CRACK

"YEOW!" the GreatJon pulled back his and, and Ned could see his smallest finger had been pulled in an unusual angle. Mage Mormont was riding next to the massive man, who was holding his dislocated digit.

"You must speak up Jon," the She-Bear said, holding a hand next to her ear, "I can't hear so well these days."

"Nothing Maege," the GreatJon slowly moved his horse back. For a moment, Ned felt like laughing, though the look on Artoria's face distracted him from enjoying the Umber's small humiliation. Maege sauntered her horse to Ned's side, right across from the blonde girl.

"Thank you Lady Mormont," Arotria bowed and then the graying woman snorted.

"Bah!" she waved her hand, "From everything I heard, you were just some southern flower, far too likely to wilt in the cold of winter. But instead," she smiled and looked at Artoria closely, "I see something strong in you, I don't know quite what," her eyes seemed to stare down at Artoria's torso, "Got not real meat on you," she then smiled, "But there seems to be something. Suppose that's why this pup's so interested in you."

Ned blushed at the implication, before he felt the hand of the older woman pat him on his shoulder, as Maege added, "Now don't worry, I didn't hurt the GreatJon too much. I know big dumb animals, so sometimes you just have to sock them in the nose," she then pulled off, "Now come here Jon, I'll put it back."

As Maege rode off, that left Ned and Artoria riding alone for a moment. They looked at one another, and Ned thought to reach out to grab her hand, when suddenly, Cu rode up between them. He glared over at Artoria, trying to keep himself between his master and anyone he might think would be a threat. Ned sighed, remembering that now that Brandon and Father were dead, Cu would be treating him like his master. Slowly, the rest of his guard moved up, forming the perimeter. Very quickly, the men began to make observations about the world around them, though Ned allowed it to fade into the background, and just enjoy the ride.

"Now, just give me one moment…here we go, three, two…one."

CRACK

"YEOW!"

Just enjoy the ride.