Ned VII

"Did you have to let your wife hit me like that Ned?" Cu asked, a rather large bump protruding from the side of his head. Ned's eyes quickly turned to his side as his wife cantered her horse back up next to his, riding side by side with him. She gave him a smile as they rode, and Ned couldn't help but add one to his own face.

It had been nearly a fortnight since the Battle of the Trident, and everything had been up in the air in the immediate aftermath. Robert had taken a small wound from Rhaegar's blade, and mixed with his still not fully healed wound from before the Battle of the Bells, he had been forced to take to bed after the battle. The Maester's didn't think there was much danger for Ned's foster brother, but they did force him to take a day to rest for his health. Considering Robert had just publicly declared himself king after the victory, Ned was quite happy to have their new monarch not die from an infected wound.

However, Robert needed to strike while the iron was hot. So Ned and about ten thousand of his men would be sent ahead by a day so they could take King's Landing and prepare it for Robert's ascension. Ned had been eager for the opportunity, and his men had left at the crack of dawn after their victory, just enough time for his men-at-arms to rest for a coming march.

It had been by every measure a calm march, especially considering they were traveling through the heartland of Targaryen Loyalists. Raymun Darry, last surviving trueborn male of the House of Darry, had struck his colors as Ned had marched up to Darry. In return, Ned had brought the bones of Raymun's three older brothers, all of whom had died the day before along the Trident. Raymun had shown as much contrition as possible, and Ned had no desire to punish a family who had suffered so much already.

Far more awkward was Sow's Horn, a few days later. That was the home of House Hogg afterall. While Ned did deliver the bones of Ser Hobar and Ser Milo, Ser Roger Hogg was not accommodating. Ned supposed the fact that he himself slayed Hobar, and that rumors of the battle had been spread by the routed crownlanders, that Roger thought Ned was gloating. Ned could understand, thinking how he might have reacted had Rhaegar brought his father's and brother's bones to the Trident.

Stokeworth and Hayford both bent the knee as Ned and his army marched by, and from what Ned had heard from Rickard Karstark, Rosby had opened their gates as well. There had been no real resistance, not even a token attempt to delay the Northern march, which was now only a few miles from King's Landing itself. Though Ned was glad of it. His footmen had not been too badly bloodied in the conflict, really it had been his horse that had taken the brunt of the losses from the North, but he would rather have his army return to their homes with as many of his smallfolk as possible.

'What will Nan think,' Ned thought, as he remembered seeing two large bodies of his bodyguards that were slayed in the massive melee. Biggs and Wedge had both been men he'd known since he was first able to walk. Wedge had a son, and that son had a son, but still, for the woman who had helped raise him to lose her family hurt Ned. He could only shake his head, 'I can only pray that this war will soon be over,' That would mean an end to all these deaths.

Ned looked back at Artoria. She was having her horse ride back and forth, all around what remained of his bodyguards. Mostly, it was her speaking about some little thing or another, the way Willam Dustin oiled his sword during the first hour, how Greywater Watch moved to Howland Reed in the second, and then how the Wulls bred their horses to Theo in the third. She had been far more quiet during the ride down, when she would really only speak with him. Yet now she was barely able to keep her mouth from running all day.

'She has a very good eye for things,' Ned noticed, watching her point to the muscles of Theo Wull's massive mount's hind thighs, 'I suppose she might feel she can speak more freely now that she has "earned" her place among us,' and Ned was glad to see that his guard had mostly accepted her as one of their number. Even Cu, for all that he would still poke at the girl, had come to accept her as a capable warrior. Still though, 'Will you still be so happy, when this is all done, and we must return to Winterfell, I as Lord, and you as Lady.'

On some level, Ned had only really managed to replace one chain of stress with another. Before, he had been so worried about winning the war, he had been unable to care about what would happen when he returned to Winterfell. Now that it was almost assured the rebellion had been successful, though he was still worried about the mop up, making sure Robert ascended the throne, and finding Lyanna.

But he could finally consider what life would be like back home. And that…it both terrified him and excited him.

"Well Cu," He finally said, "Artoria is your lady now," he said aloud, and he felt relief when Artoria didn't even flinch at the title, "So I must say that perhaps you must find it in yourself to watch your words around her, or perhaps her next reproach might be worse," he then slid his horse next to Cu's, the younger man staring at him, "Next time, she might aim lower with her strike."

Cu glared at him, all the while Artoria on the other side of him snorted. Ned could hear audible groans from some of the men around them, yet he paid them no mind. He only had to share a home with one of them, and she was the one who was laughing at his jest.

"Ned," It was Howland Reed. Ned was brought from his considerations at the strange croak of the Lord of Greywater Watch. He turned his attention to the Crannogman, awkwardly atop his horse. The man's sunken eyes were wide open, and the alarm on the man's thin face made Ned push away his distractions, "To the South, there are fires."

"What?" Ned looked south, and over the treetops, he could see the faintest hints of smoke.

"Do you believe an army is gathering before the gates of King's Landing?" Ned could feel a sweat come over him at Martyn Cassel's suggestion. Mark seemed isolated, as Roderick had been the other member of his guard to no longer be riding with him, though luckily it had only been a minor wound along his leg. Mark had left Jory with his brother, as well as many other Northern Men along with the main host of the Rebel army. If there was another force here before King's Landing, then Ned couldn't help but wish he hadn't gone ahead of his foster brother.

"No," Howland Reed observed, "The smoke is too thick," Howland's eyes seemed to sweep along the growing black cloud, "Fires for an army, or for a festival, they wouldn't burn enough to build up this much smoke, especially during the day, when there is no need for the light fire brings," the crannogman shivered, "No, that's from fires being set to things that are already built."

"Then buildings are burning," Willam Dustin offered, his eyes glaring at the growing cloud as well. Ned could tell his whole guard were now observing the smoke as it began to cover the horizon, the ease and good cheer burning away as what was likely the source of the smoke. Dustin's voice then cut through the calm around them once more, "Only King's Landing would be in that direction. Ned, what do you think's happening?"

Ned stared at the pillar of smoke, and cursed to himself.

"Mayhaps a riot," he thought, remembering stories of how the smallfolk of the capital had rioted during previous rebellions. He shook his head, and added, "What ever it may be, we cannot let the whole city burn. Send word for the men to be pulled up. We are only a few miles from the city as it is. We will bring the full force of the North to bear on whatever we find at King's Landing."

It had taken around two hours for the Northern foot that Ned had brought to form up and march the whole way. The experience had been long, and had only gotten worse as they had advanced down the Kingsroad. Not only was the smoke taking up more of the sky as they marched, the march was made all the worse by the smell. King's Landing was famous for smelling quite like a pig's sty that had not been cleaned in three fortnights, and the waft had hit Ned and his host with several miles still to go. That smell mixed with the unmistakable smell of burning wood, which somehow managed to make it all the worse.

Even worse was when they came out from the wood to finally set their eyes on the city, Ned could tell that their fears were realized. Huge sections of the Western half of the city were covered in smoke. One could see fires dotting around the city, and charred remains of ruined buildings.

Yet it was even worse along the walls. For along the walls were massive banners…of Red and Gold.

Ned didn't dare look back, yet he knew that every member of his guard was now directly staring at Artoria. He didn't dare peak back at the girl, fearing what he might see as he and his first column of marched along the Kingsroad right up to the open gate.

Sitting there on a horse was, luckily, not Tywin Lannister. Nor was it Kevan Lannister, the man Ned might have expected it to be. Rather, it was a fully armored knight with a purple unicorn on a white field as his sigil. Lord Andros Brax, Ned guessed as his column came up to meet the Lord of Hornvale. The armored Westerman raised his hand in acknowledgement.

"Lord Stark," Andros said, his voice as calm as he could likely make it, "I am here to welcome you to King's Landing, and offer you passage through the King's Gate," Ned eyes wandered upward into the smoke, though if Andros noticed, he didn't speak up too much about it, "Consider this the Westerlands pledge to our new king."

'New king,' Ned thought to himself. He looked through the gate, and saw bodies lining the street. They were mostly in gold, though Ned could see that it was not just the guards of the gate that had been stripped of their lives, 'Gods what a rancid gift this is.'

"I thank you for your welcome," Ned said, trying to remember Jon Arryn's training as he thought of the dead bodies piled along the buildings, "I must ask, Lord Brax," Andros nodded, "For how long have you held the city?"

"For half a day or so," the older man stated, pointing towards the walls, "We have captured all but one of the city's seven gates, and the Iron Gate only holds for being the furthest from our forces," Ned nodded, trying to take some kind of victory in at least his own men were not being killed to take the city, "The Westermen have taken most of the city itself, and I have heard word that some have even arrived at the Red Keep itself."

Ned could only stare. How could it be possible for the city to have fallen so quickly. Perhaps there had been a traitor within the guard. Or perhaps the guards had been let it on the promise that they'd fight for the Dragons. Whatever it had been, it did not matter now. Not for him, not for the men of the west, and not, as he looked again along the different roads of the city, the smallfolk feeling the wrath of the sack.

"Do you know if the Red Keep has fallen?" the question was important for if there would be any need of his men to actually fight today.

"No milord," Brax said. Ned nodded at that.

"I shall be leading my van towards there then," he said, and looked to his guards, who nodded. Finally Artoria was in his eyes, and he wished he had not looked back. Her eyes were wide, and her manner frantic as her eyes swiveled from the Brax sigil to the Lion banner along the wall to the bodies lining the causeway. He quickly moved his eyes back to the lord, "There will be no muddle if I do so, will there Lord Brax?"

The Lord of Hornvale stayed silent for a moment, clearly considering his next words. From what Ned could see, Tywin and his lords had been hoping for the Rebel Army to be at least a day later than them, and his arrival was a worry. There was likely the thought going through Brax's head that the blood lusted men currently sacking the city might turn on the Northmen. Yet, as he looked around, he realized that he did not have the force or position to hold Ned out, so he sighed, and then pointed at a knight near him, one with a banner.

"Tytos," he said, and Ned remembered that this was likely the man's eldest son, "Ride with Lord Stark and his men," he then pointed once more to two other knights, one with a green shield and another with a bow, "Ser Preston to the Lion's Gate, Ser Lymond to the River Gate, alert our men that Lord Stark has arrived."

"Yes milord," the three said, and the first two knights galloped into the gate. The Brax knight rode up next to Ned, and held a banner high above his head. Ned nodded, before looking back at Willam Dustin.

"Will you wait here, just to let our comrades know what is happening when they come up," and the Lord of Barrowtown nodded, knowing that his job was to make sure that there was no closing of the gate in an attempt to isolate Ned and his forces, "I will leave some foot with me just in case."

"Of course Ned."

And with that, Ned and his men marched through the King's Gate, and into King's Landing.

It had taken nearly two hours to make their way up to the Red Keep. There had been no armed resistance to their march, a blessing, as Ned did not think his van would be able to fight a way through an entire city. Yet they had been stopped along two roads. The first road had been where an inn of some kind had burned so much that it had collapsed, blocking the entire street. The second had been a pile of bodies. Ned did not look them over too closely, though even as he passed, he could tell by their size and shape they were in no way all members of the city guard.

'Terrible,' Ned thought to himself, as his force came up the hook toward Aegon's hill, 'Gods, this war makes monsters of us all,' he looked over his men, 'Had I taken the city first, would my men have acted like this, stealing, killing,' he felt flinch, 'raping.'

He hoped they wouldn't. He hoped that as Northmen they would not act in such a manner. He hoped that it was an aspect of the character of the south to act like this. Yet twas not even in the back of his mind that the history of the wars between Bolton and Stark played over and over, with dozens of towns and countless smallfolk suffering the horrors of sacks and war. He could only hope that if he had taken the city, he would have been able to maintain control.

'Does not appear that Tywin cared about that,' Ned thought to the side, only for a dark thought to come up, 'Unless, he knew this might happen and allowed it to occur.'

'And now the rains weep, over his halls,' Ned couldn't help but remember Tywin's song. Of the annihilation of the Reynes of Castamere, and the deaths of dozens if not hundreds, many of whom were innocent children.

Ned steeled himself as his men turned off the Hook, still considering that the Red Keep itself might be held by some of the last members of the Gold Cloaks. Yet as they made the turn, Ned saw the portcullis of the Keep's gatehouse up, and the gates open. He sighed, glad at least that there wouldn't be any need for an assault, though he would not dismiss his men. Not with so many Westermen around.

'What was Brandon thinking,' Ned thought as he traveled under the gatehouse and into the Outer yard of the Keep, 'When he rode here?' Ned watched as even men unfamiliar with the Keep, mostly men of House Crakehall if he could remember his time in the Westerlands, 'Surely he and his companions should have realized that he was riding to his doom. Did he really think that this place, with an army of well trained guards, and all Seven Kingsguard, would gladly lay down their arms and let him kill the prince?'

"Rotten place," Ned could hear Howland Reed speak.

"Really is," Mark Ryswell agreed. Ned worried for the young knight, a man of not much cheer before the war, who had only gotten worse since the Trident. Ned made a move to have his footmen slowly begin to help take the walls, if for no other reason than to be able to project power if necessary.

Ned could only move forward though. He took his horse to the right, and to his right from the Barbican, towards the largest building in the Keep. That would be where the Iron Throne would be. And there would be the man he'd been hoping to get his hands on for months.

'Aerys.'

The King who had killed his father and brother. The man who had started the war by calling for he and Robert's heads. The man whose madness had so utterly alienated him from all around him that his oldest friend had just sacked the capital. Despite everything…Ned was hoping to get justice now, for his family, and all the other families that this damn war had scarred.

So he and his guard rode into the throne room on horseback, but as soon as he entered, Ned saw what he already had known to be true the moment he had heard that the Red Keep had fallen. Aerys body, shriveled and bone white, was lying already in the middle of the hall. He looked as wretched as Ned had imagined him to be, with greasy matted white hair, long talonlike fingernails jutting out from his hands, and so thin that it looked like he was a skeleton with skin simply slipped over it. Ned had seen him before, back almost a year and half at Harrenhal, but now he was even worse. Of course, Ned supposed that he should have expected Aerys to look worse, after all, he had just been stabbed through the back.

No, Ned was not surprised by Aerys body.

He was surprised to see a figure sitting on the Iron Throne in Aerys place.

He was surprised that that it was a figure in the white armor of the Kingsguard.

And most of all, he was surprised at the handsome blonde features that covered the figure's face, and the familiarity those features had to the girl riding only a few feet behind him.

Jaime Lannister, perhaps two years younger than Ned, was sitting among the swords of the Iron Throne. Actually, he was lounging, his head resting against the chair, and his eyes closed to the world around him. On his lap sat a sword, one with the tip still with a red sheen over it.

"Someone else has arrived eh?" he heard from the chair. The knight there lazily opened his eyes, and stared at Ned with a lack of any shame or guilt. He almost seemed bored with even speaking, though his eyes were focused on Ned's.

Ned felt his hands slowly grip around the leather reins of his horse. He glared directly into the the eyes of the younger man, who didn't even seem to react. Ned then looked back down to the King's corpse, then back up once more at the blade sitting in Jaime Lannister's lap.

'He killed his king,' twas as obvious as the setting sun. He had broken his oath, and stabbed his king in the back. Just as his family was beginning to sack the city he was sworn to protect as well.

"Jaime?"

And then Ned was pulled from his own mind back to the world he was in. He looked back to his wife, and saw Artoria's face. There was shock there mostly, just a complete inability to realize what she was seeing. Or rather, a desire, most like to not see what was in front of her, and belief that her eyes were but lying to her. Yet there was also horror, though if that feeling came from the sight of her brother on the throne, or just the sights of the sack she'd already taken in. And slowly, Ned could see that it was the second of these that was beginning to overwhelm the first.

"Wart?" And that caught Ned's attention. He turned his head back, and looked up to see Jaime no longer reclining along the throne. Instead, he was staring directly at Artoria, his eyes frantically moving back and forth between his sister and Ned himself. Only then must it have truly dawned on Jaime that he and Ned were now goodbrothers. Suddenly, the silence was no longer as tense, as an awkwardness hung in the air.

'They haven't seen each other in two years,' Ned thought to himself, as Artoria brought her horse toward the front, and stared up at Jaime. Ned could just barely see her shoulders shaking, and the beginning of a cold sweat down the back of her neck.

"What are you doing Jaime?" she asked, "Why are you sitting on the Throne."

"Ah…well," Jaime said.

And then there was a pause. Jaime was looking down at his younger sister, and Ned couldn't quite tell what was passing through his head, but he could tell he had not been expecting his sister to arrive. He wondered for a moment if Jaime had heard of Artoria's victory against Barristan Selmy. Yet Ned found that pushed to the side as Jaime finally stood up, and began to walk off the throne. The blond man rubbed the back of his head, holding his sword at his side, with blood still dripping from it.

"I suppose I was getting you a wedding present."

Ned's mind for an instant saw Artoria's spine snap as straight as a board. He could hear a few gasps behind him, though he could not tell from which of his companions the noises had arisen. Ned could even see apprehension in Jaime's voice after the words left his mouth, as though he realized what he had said, and what that had really meant.

But Ned soon ignored all that, as he felt a red hot rage shoot up from his belly. He gripped and pulled the reins so tight from atop his horse that he nearly ripped the leather in two. He could even feel the veins along his forehead begging to pulsate, and it took every fiber of his control not to pull his sword, and cut down the younger man where he stood.

This man, no, this boy, dared to act like this was some little gift. That he'd taken the chance to bring true justice to the man who'd killed Ned's father and brother, the Lord and Heir of Winterfell. Now Aerys, for all he was Mad, would always have the right of being called a king betrayed, rather than being allowed to be tried for his crimes and given a fair and proper punishment. Now in all of history, Aerys would be betrayed, a victim of the world around him, as he always wanted to be.

And this little cunt happened to act like it was a late gift? Like what he had done was some little trifle? Like he hadn't committed some grievous crime? LIke this somehow made everything Jaime had been a part of as a member of the Kingsguard moot?

Like he wasn't tainting Ned's marriage with association to this act?

Ned pulled his reins, and his horse began to move to the right. Slowly his horse trotted back through the throne room, out towards the courtyard. He had had enough of this, there was no need to dignify it. Best for everyone to just leave it and ride off.

"Ned?" he heard Artoria speak up, a spark of fear with her.

"Oh come off it," he heard Jaime speak up once more, his voice moving quickly. He seemed almost nervous, though Ned supposed he was trying to claim victory in this once sided duel of words, "I killed Aerys!" he shouted, "Wasn't that what you were coming up to this place to do anyway?" his voice was getting faster, more desperate to prove his victory over Ned, "He killed your father and brother, so isn't killing him justice?" the question hung in the air, but Ned just kept riding off, "What more do you want?"

Ned should have let it go. He should have followed the advice of Jon Arryn, and avoided speaking in anger. He'd always been better at it than Robert, which was why Ned rarely got in the same troubles his foster brother did. Jon had even said it was like second nature to Ned.

But this time, Ned was unable to keep words from slipping through his teeth.

"What took you so long?"

Ned gave a glance back at the throne. Jaime looked as though Ned had just punched him…and Artoria had much the same look. Ned cursed to himself, realizing he had only just made things worse, and forced his horse to canter out of the throne room, leaving the old member of the Kingsguard behind.

Only in one last look back, as he was exiting through the Barbican, did Ned see that Artoria was riding behind him, rather than staying back with her brother.

That…at least, was a relief.

Ned should have taken time to inspect more of the Red Keep. He should have stayed there, and done his best to try and manage all that was happening inside the castle itself and in Maegor's Holdfast in particular. He had been tired from the travel, from seeing the horrors and from his confrontation with Jaime Lannister, but he should have attempted to make sure that he was able to see everything that occurred in the Red Keep, rather than retiring from the city in disgust.

'Had I done so,' Ned thought looking over the three bodies laid out in throne room, 'I might have been able to stop this.'

That was likely a lie that Ned was telling himself, which even Ned realized. More than likely they had been dead before Ned had rode into the Red Keep, and Ned would only have been able to find them in a less dignified state. Of course, no one could say their bodies were quite dignified now, but at least now the children's bodies were covered in a great red cloth, rather than being exposed to the world.

"Tis a tragic consequence of war," Ned felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. He looked over, and saw the grim visage of his godfather standing to the side of the bodies, the eternal frown forever carved into his face. He looked to the world as troubled by the bodies as any other man in this room. Yet Ned could hear it, there in the back of the older man's voice.

Satisfaction.

Not happiness as it were, Ned had long come to doubt that Tywin Lannister could ever truly be happy, but he was satisfied. A great cat presenting the bodies of the rodents it had caught for its master.

And that brought Ned's attention across the bodies to the "master" Tywin was attempting to impress. Robert was looking down at the bodies, his face scrunched. Ned's foster brother's mouth was a straight line, and his brow was furrowed at the sight. His eyes moved over the bodies of the children, and then of Elia. Ned could see that Robert was opening and closing his fists again and again.

To Robert's right, Jon Arryn's face was long, and his frown was clear. Ned's Foster father was shaking his head, and he would at times raise his hand up to roll it through his beard. Ned couldn't help but think that his Jon looked older than ever before, even when he'd been informed that Denys had been killed.

Really, the sadness was as present as the men themselves in the hall. The other rebel lords present, whether they be Northern, Stormlander or Valish, were all seemingly shocked by the image of the bodies of Rhaegar's children. The Westerlanders were doing their level best to appear as saddened by the image as their new allies, and Ned hoped that at least a few of them were honest in their horror.

Yet those did not compare at all to the few Targaryen Loyalists that were in the room. There were only two, but the faces of Barristan Selmy and his young squire told all that needed to be told. Barristan, holding himself up with a cane to spite his broken leg, was able to contain his sorrow, though Ned could see his eyes flashing angrily at Robert Baratheon. Much worse was the boy Astolfo. The young rider's face was covered with horror and despair, his shoulders shaking as he held in his tears, with his eyes focused directly on the state of Elia Martell.

Her face had been smashed open, with several long gashes above her cheekbones and what appeared to be a broken socket around her left eye. Her cheeks were still swollen from the bruising, and her neck had the signature scars of gripped fingers. The fingers of her left hand were either bent in unnatural manners or gone, and her right wrist seemed to be broken. Even worse, Ned could see the ripping of her clothes, and recognized the pattern of tearing on many of the woman who had been…violated out during the sack.

'I hope to the gods you were dead before they…did such things,' Ned could only think, before looking to his left, and seeing Artoria was also staring directly at Elia as well. Artoria was as still as a statue, here eyes pinpricks as they stared at the bruises over Elia's ruined face, 'Do you fear this might have happened to you, had the war gone the other way?'

"Damn rotten thing," Robert's voice finally carried over the room. It was straight as ever, clearly the wound had not robbed Baratheon of his powerful voice, "War."

Ned saw some movement, as Astolfo's eyes suddenly flashed towards the taller man. For a moment, Ned worried that the Connington bastard might attack Robert, but he sighed when he realized that the younger man had no blade, and any attempt would have been met with enough force to stop him. That, and Ned could see Barristan's hand shoot out, and grab his squire by the shoulder, which stopped any real movement. The young man glared at the Kingsguard, but a look by Barristan was enough to keep him from moving. In less than three seconds, the confrontation had been stopped, though Ned could only hope they could send the pink haired boy out of King's Landing soon.

'Seeing a lady you swore to protect like this,' Ned shook his head, 'Gods, would be as though I was staring at Lyanna's body instead.'

"Of course it is your Grace," Tywin said flatly, and Ned winced. They had known that Robert was to be made king. He not only had enough blood to cover any legal technicalities that might exist, but he had been the one that the men had flocked to throughout the first half of the war, and the one who'd ended the war with the death of Rhaegar Targayen. Yet Robert still clearly wasn't ready for it, as it took a moment for the recognition that Tywin was speaking to him to cross the massive man's face, "I had given orders for their safe capture, but…well a sack can have drastic consequences."

'Oh you lying shit,' Ned gripped his hands together, 'You wanted them dead, at least the children, all to clear the way and prove your loyalty. You probably ordered them dead, and then used the sack…,' Ned's thoughts stopped as he considered what was happening.

'You used the sack to cover for the slaughter of the children and the princess,' her realized, 'That's why there was no attempt to contain your troops. Even the barest hint of discipline would have probably saved countless lives out among the smallfolk. It wasn't like the Westerlander army had been particularly ravaged by war, and thus taking out their rage and frustrations on a defeated enemy. A competent lord should easily be able to keep order over relatively fresh men-at-arms, 'But the men were allowed, and perhaps encouraged, to do what they pleased, and then Tywin had his men come and kill the children with the cover of a massacre.'

"We know Tywin," Jon cut in, and from Ned's ears he could tell that Jon Arryn likely had come to a similar conclusion, at least about Lord Lannister's attempt to cover his hand in the death of the princess and her children. The older man glared at Tywin, and Ned felt some relief that a man who could in anyway be considered senior to Tywin Lannister was here to counter the Lord of Casterly Rock, "There is no need to continue to remind us," Jon sighed, his head still shaking, "Gods, what shall we tell Doran Martell."

"That it was a result of war," Tywin cut in, and Ned could see that behind his godfather Kevan Lannister gave a wince, if for nothing else Tywin's curtness. Robert glared over at Tywin, his frown growing.

"Do you know who might have done…," the massive man waved his hand over the bodies, "All this?"

"I do not," Tywin said, "As I have said, we unfortunately lost control of our men, and by the time our men arrived in the Red Keep, he gestured down at the bodies, "they were already dead, your Grace."

"Really now," Ned could hear the bite at the back of Robert's voice, and saw him almost twist his head, "Damn convenient we don't have anyone to ask about," he waved his hand to Elia, "This."

"Your grace," Tywin said, "It would be convenient for us to know who committed these wretched acts, as we could offer them as recompense to Dorne."

'Not if they might tell secrets from the rack,' Ned's mind went to the legendary devices of torture that the Dornish were infamous for using, 'Especially about if they were ordered to do so by you.'

Ned could see the exhaustion covering Robert and Jon's faces. They had rushed overnight here, so they had likely gotten nearly no sleep. It had meant now they clearly outnumbered the Lannister's men, and were able to restore some level of peace to the city. Yet it also meant that right now, they were just willing to let the words of Tywin Lannister sit without a challenge.

"Fine," Robert sighed, "If you can find the bastards, bring their heads to me, and we'll send them with Elia's bones to Sunspear," he growled. The massive man turned away from the bodies, and marched away from the throne, "Gods, I need a drink."

Jon Arryn moved quickly behind the new king. Ned was about to make to join them, yet he stopped when he saw Barristan make a move toward the bodies. Despite his wound, he slowly bent down, and placed his hand on Elia's shoulder. Ned could see that the older man's shoulders were shaking and that tears were welling beneath his eyes. He could only imagine what Barristan, who'd given so much of his life to protecting the Targaryens, was thinking at the sight of this dead family.

Barristan continued toward the smallest body, the one that held Rhaeagar's young son, Aegon. Slowly, the older man gripped at the top of the fabric, and pulled it free from his head. Ned immediately turned away from the sight of the boy's head. The force to cave in a babe's skull must have been massive, and it should have been difficult to see who the boy was. Were it not for the obvious silver fuzz of the Targayen's famous Valyrian hair, Ned would guess that it would have been impossible to tell if this was Aegon.

Barristan, likely disgusted by the sight, turned the fabric back over. He held his hand over the fabric above Rhaenys, and then stopped. Ned could see why, as the concave around the girl's head meant she had likely suffered a similar fate to her brother, and the thought of seeing another child he had likely protected in such a state could make the Knight queasy. Barristan stood up, tears flowing from his eyes, though determination on his face. The older man turned his head towards Ned, though his eyes were not directly at him.

"They should be taken to the sisters, and have their rites given," Barristan said aloud, "The princess would not want her children to be left in such a state. We can burn the flesh away, and send their bones back to Dorne for the Martells."

"Aye," Ned nearly jumped when he heard Artoria's voice. She was moving forward, yet she still seemed stiff, and she was now making sure to not look at Elia anymore, "We shall take their bones to the Silent Sisters, and then prepare to send their bones to Sunspear."

Ned nodded. Would only be proper. In fact, it reminded him that he needed to find his Father's and Brother's bones now. Hopefully the Silent Sisters would know where their bodies were, or perhaps had already cremated them. If he was to return them to sit alongside their ancestors, it would be necessary for them to be naught but bones as well.

'I owe it to this lady, and to her family,' he thought, as he followed Artoria towards the bodies, 'to see that she and her children make it back to Dorne.'

"We're not going to give Tywin any punishment!?"

Ned had only just returned back to the Red Keep from his time at the Sept of Baelor. He had never understood the need for such massive buildings for the Faith of the Seven, but he had come away impressed by the pure scale of the building. The temple could have easily housed all of Winterfell within it, at least all of it but the Godswood. He had almost felt crushed by its sheer grandeur, and had been glad he only needed to be outside to deliver Elia and her children to where they must go.

He had made sure that the bodies had been delivered to the home of the silent sisters. After that, he made to leave, though Artoria…she had remained at the great Sept. And Ned…could not blame her. It had been months since he had been before a Weirwood Tree, and the separation he felt from the Old Gods was beginning to weigh on him. He could not begrudge his wife reaching out to her New Gods after her many trials.

So he had returned up Aegon's Hill to the Red Keep. The hour had grown late, with the sun beginning to set over the Lion's gate, though Ned kept himself moving. His original hope had been to go to the Red Keep's Godswood. Even if there was only a mighty Oak tree there, it would still be enough for the nonce. Just until he could get back to a real one as soon as he returned North.

Yet as he entered through the barbican, he had been alerted by a Ser Courtnay Penrose that Robert had requested him in the Tower of the Hand as quickly as he could come. Ned had walked into the small tower in the middle bailey, and had quickly found himself passing through different Vale and Stormland knights, all of whom had bowed their heads as he had passed. It had felt strange, seeing men who had helped teach him to fight in the Eyrie treat him with any sort of reverence, but he was getting more used to it after his time in Winterfell. Of course, that acceptance was frightening in its own manner, but he pushed that form his mind as he had entered the Hand's Solar.

Once he had arrived, he saw the great chain of the hand around Jon Arryn's neck, and Ned had nodded at the sight. It made sense if Robert was to become King, for Jon to become his hand. Jon was the only one in the world who could really control Robert, from tempering his rage to keeping the young man's cups from overflowing with too much ale. Something that was already difficult, as Ned noticed that Robert was likely into his second tankard of the stuff by the time he'd climbed the stairs.

The first half hour, as the sun continued to sink across the land of the west, was spent on general discussions of plans for their next movements. The first thing to do was to make sure that Stannis and Renly, Robert's two younger brothers, were safe. They were the next in line for the throne after Robert, so ensuring their safety would be key for the stability of the Baratheon Dynasty.

Luckily, Hoster Tully was already on the march down the Kingsroad. Hoster had around ten thousand men, and with the news that the Targaryen cause was finished, it should have been enough to force Mace Tyrell to come to terms and bend the knee. He should be there within a fortnight, and with enough ravens being sent from King's Landing to the Reach, it was likely that Mace would dip his banners without any real conflagration. Of course, Hoster had volunteered for this mission precisely because he had a vested interest in ensuring Stannis survived.

Stannis was the way to have his blood come into the new royal dynasty, after all.

Yet as discussion went form there, there were also discussion about how to deal with the Reach and Dorne. The reach seemed easy enough, as there would need to be a few arrangements for to ensure loyalty, but nothing too great for the kingdom that had been least involved. But Dorne had proven more troublesome. Ned had hoped they could find some sort of suitable punishment for Twyin Lannister, at least distance themselves from the Lord of Casterly Rock. However…

"The man conquered King's Landing for us," Robert spoke up. He was blushing slightly, the ale having already begun to have an effect on him, "You want me to try and punish him after he came forward and won us a battle without losing a single one of our men?"

"It wasn't a battle," Ned said through gritted teeth, "It was a massacre," Robert looked down, but the taller man refused to say anything, "And that massacre left a princess of Dorne and her children dead."

"People die in sacks-"

"You know he ordered it," Ned could feel the bite of his voice, but he continued despite the building anger in Robert's face, "You know he had men specifically picked to go and kill them," he could see a bit of shame on Jon Arryn's face, and more than a bit on Robert's too, "Tywin Lannister ordered the death of children just so he could make himself useful to the new dynasty."

"Gods, Ned," Robert gave with a bit of a slur, "The man's your goodfather!"

"Yes," Ned screamed. It was then Artoria's face flashed across his mind. She was smiling at him, her face covered in mud from the battle she'd just won. And then he saw her face today, terror over her features, "Gods, I wish he wasn't, but he is the father of my wife, and it pains me to know that."

"Well you can fi-"

"No I can't," the thought of breaking off his marriage with Artoria…gods, it was too much to ask. He then shook his head, "Fine, you won't punish Tywin for the sack," making an enemy of Lord Lannister, even while holding King's Landing already, would probably only mean more war, and more death. Ned was ready for it to be over, so if that meant letting the bald lion go, he'd allow it to happen. He then sighed, and looked at Jon, "I suppose, though, I should be readying a group to take Ser Jaime."

"Ser Jaime?"

Ned looked over at Jon, and the look on his face, one of shame and fear, caught him off guard. For a second, he looked at his foster father, and then slowly, the realization dawned on him. He couldn't help but step towards the old man, teeth gritted.

"You aren't letting me take him to join the Night's Watch," he seethed, and the look on Jon Arryn's face said it all, "Are you?"

"No Ned," Robert sighed, "Gods, didn't I just say that we need to stay on Tywin's good side," Ned turned his head towards his foster brother, "The man wants Jaime to be his heir, and making him go to the Wall would be as good as declaring war on Tywin," he stopped for a second, before slamming his hand on the desk he was sitting in front of, "For the gods sake, Tywin broke with Aerys for making Jaime take the white, what do you think that gold shitting mother fucker would do to me if I make him take the black!"

"He killed his king!" Ned shouted, though this time Robert just gave him a look. As did Jon Arryn.

"Would be good if any of his other brothers had done it," Jon Arryn spoke up, and Robert nodded.

"Yeah, I just wish he'd made the fucker die slower," Robert then gulped down another bit of his ale. He then held the cup up, looked down at it, and sighed. He then sat it down, grabbed a nearby pitcher, and poured more ale into his tankard, "Ned, I know you wanted to do it yourself, but-"

"I wanted justice," Ned growled, "That wasn't justice, it was betrayal," he looked at Jon Arryn, who shook his head, "You're letting him go become heir of Casterly Rock after killing a king and breaking his oath?"

"No," Jon Arryn cut in quickly, "He'll remain on the Kingsguard."

…

"What?" Ned blinked, and looked back at Robert, "You're letting a man who killed his previous king guard you," Robert glared at Ned.

"I'm not going to be that kind of king, Ned," he said firmly, "Asides, should he try, I'll take pretty little motherfucker and crush his throat with me bare hands," he held out his hands as though he was holding Jaime Lannister's neck. Ned stared at him for a moment, before noticing that Robert's face was only getting redder as the conversation was going on. And from what he could see, it wasn't just the ale that was causing that blush. Still, he needed to try and get them to see reason.

"He didn't just kill his king," he tried to be as calm as possible, to keep this from exploding, "He left three more of his charges to die," he watched as Robert almost seemed to roll his eyes, "If he had done his duty, Princess Elia and her children-"

"For the gods sake, Ned! They were only Dragonspawn!"

Ned just stopped, and stared at Robert. Robert had knocked his cup over, and the ale was spilling onto the ground beneath him while he was now standing at his full height. Jon Arryn's face was one of shock, as he moved his eyes between the two. The old man seemed ready to make a move to get between Ned and his foster brother, but-

"DRAGONSPAWN!" Ned shrieked, "THEY WERE CHILDREN ROBERT! YOU ARE SAYING THEY HAD TO DIE!"

"WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO NED!" Robert cried, pointing a finger directly at Ned's face, "THEY DID HAVE TO DIE! IF THEY LIVED, THEN THE TARGS WOULD PROBABLY COME BACK AND TRY TO REBEL AGAINST US WHEN THEY NEXT GET A CHANCE!"

"YOU COULD HAVE SENT AEGON TO THE CITADEL AND MARRIED RHAENYS TO YOUR FIRST SON!"

"AND THEN SOME REACH LORD WOULD PICK AEGON OUT OF THERE AND HAVE HIM FUCK THAT SISTER OF HIS TO RESTART THE FUCKING DYNASTY!"

"YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THAT!"

"WELL NOW I DON'T HAVE TOO!"

"THEY WERE CHILDREN!"

"SO WAS EVERY OTHER FUCKING BABE IN THIS CITY, BUT YOU DON'T SEEM TO CARE ABOUT THEM!"

"I DO CARE, I WANTED TYWIN PUNISHED!"

"WELL I CAN"T DO THAT!"

"ENOUGH!"

Both stopped, as Jon Arryn stepped between them. Ned could see a shock on Robert's face, and he could feel it on his own. Jon Arryn rarely yelled at them, it had almost been a decade since it had happened, when they had gone out after dark during one winter night and hunted for goats along some very high passes. They'd both gotten their ears boxed, Robert for having such a stupid plan, and Ned for not stopping him. Yet now, it wasn't anger on Jon Arryn's face, but fear. He looked between them.

"There is nothing that can be done about the Lannisters," the old man said firmly, before looking directly at Ned, "Or for Princess Elia and her children," Ned gripped his fists tightly together, "Please, we must form a united front, or else this new government will not work."

Ned just looked to the ground. This was all…none of this had been as he'd imagined. After the trident, he'd thought they'd catch Aerys, and put him to trial, and then…well he had to admit he really hadn't thought about it. True, he'd been so elated that the chance of him dying like his father and brother had disappeared that he hadn't thought about all this. But he also thought that when it came to working together, Jon and Robert would always choose his side, not Tywins. It was all so…disheartening.

"I need to leave here," Ned finally said, causing Robert to look up, "I need to find Lyanna," and then Robert's frown became solemn instead of infuriated. They looked at one another, before Robert gave a nod, and poured himself some more ale.

Ned turned, and began to march down the stairs. As he began to walk down, he heard some steps behind him, and turned to not see Robert, as he thought, but Jon Arryn. Jon looked older than he'd ever looked before, more beaten by the world. He and Robert had japed about their Foster Father's age while in the Eyrie, but now…now he looked all the namedays he had, and quite a few more.

"Ned," he said, "Please…please don't think too harshly of Robert," he sighed, "The man loves you. Please don't lose one of your only remaining brothers."

Ned stopped, and thought of Brandon. He'd never see his elder brother again. Now the only blood brother he had left in the world was Benjen, and…well he seemed so melancholic in Winterfell, it only made Ned feel worse. There was still Lyanna, but soon, she would be gone, even if he found her alive. And then Robert would be his kin…

"I just," he looked at Jon Arryn, and realized that he was barely holding back tears, "Gods Jon, they were children."

Jon could only nod, his frown one of a beaten man, "Tywin Lannister has never been a good man Ned," the old man looked in his hand, "If I thought we could do so without war starting, I would have gotten Robert to arrest him and Jaime, and you know he would jump at it," he just looked up, tears forming in his eyes as well, "But…we can't…not unless we want more children to die."

For a moment, they just stood there. Two of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms, yet they both felt so powerless. FInally, Ned made one final turn to retreat down the stairs. However, just before he could take his first step, he felt Jon's hand on his shoulder.

"There is something I need to give you," the old man said, and Ned turned to look at Jon, "Come with me to the armory."

Ice was heavy on his back, both in weight and in memory.

'Just another thing that should be Brandon's,' he thought, as he worked his way back up the cluttered alley of Visenya's hill. He looked around him, glad that there did not seem to be as much damage here, 'Too far east for most of the host of the West to arrive,' he thought to himself.

It was late enough at night that he was mostly alone. It was dark as well, with almost all the fires having been put out, and the small folk that were still in the city hiding away until they were sure they wouldn't be killed. Ned winced at a few of their looks, wanting to shout that he wasn't one of the men who'd sacked the city, yet he knew it would do him no good, 'Gods, what is the world coming too?'

He finally made it to the entrance, and then looked over the seven doors of the sept. His eyes caught the Stranger, and he remembered helping bring Princess Elia and her children there so the Silent Sisters could perform their rituals. Thinking of the poor woman, and her poor children, he sighed.

'Old gods,' he thought to himself, as he passed through the door, 'I hope that you are not the only gods, and that these ones may take these poor souls into their embrace,' he then looked around, and saw a Septon tending some fires. He walked towards the man, who turned to see him, and Ned grit his teeth as the man jumped.

"Wait," he said, "Please, good septon," the man shivered for a second, before nodding, "I am…I am looking for a woman," Ned watched as the man just nodded, "Blonde hair, and green ey-"

"By the Father!" the man shrieked, before turning on his heels. Ned was about to grouse, yet he could not blame the man. After all, he was in fact the ally of the man who'd caused so much havoc, and he wasn't a believer in these gods, so it was no wonder he'd not trust Ned.

Ned slowly marched through the great hall of the Sept, his eyes focusing looking over the statues. He passed a withered woman, and then a figure in a great shroud, and then a knight with long hair. Ned recognized the Crone, the Stranger and the Warrior as he passed them, as Jon Arryn had introduced them to Ned in the Eyrie. Still, he'd never seen them so large and so imposing. The statues were three men high at least.

Yet Ned was able to push them away as his eyes came upon a massive old man, with a long beard and solemn eyes. And beneath the great statue was the girl he had been looking for. Artoria was sitting on her knees, her hands locked in prayer with elbows held on a wooden bannister, and eyes closed. Ned walked over to the statues, and knelt beside her.

"My lady," he said.

Artoria said nothing.

"I…I was hoping to ask if you need anything," he continued, watching her remains as still as the statue before her, "It has been a long day, Artoria," he spoke her name, and for the first time, she flinched, "It would be best for me to take you to a tent, and allow you to rest."

"I know who did it."

Ned blinked. He looked over at the girl, and saw her eyes open, though they were staring at the ground. He gave her a moment to just sit there with silence. And as the moment passed, tears began to well beneath her eyes.

"I know who killed Elia," she said, her voice nearly catching in her throat, before continuing, "Twas Gregor Clegane," she shook her head, and Ned flinched at the mention of the heir to Clegane.

"The mountain who rides," Ned said. He'd heard about Gregor's exploits. Of the tourney he'd first participated in, and the dozens of young squires who he'd broken. He was already famed for his strength and viciousness, even though he was in fact younger than Ned. The thought of poor Princess Elia facing that massive boulder of a man, and of the horrible way he'd probably killed her. Ned shook his head, before asking, "How do you know?"

"The bruises were similar to my own."

Ned stopped.

"Bruis-," and his mind returned to that second meeting at Casterly Rock. Artoria, her face swollen and black, staring at him, tears pouring from her eyes. He remembered the laughter of Cersei Lannister, and the shame that the girl must have felt. Ned felt his finger nails rip into the back of his hands, "He is the one that hurt you."

"For embarrassing my father," she nodded, tears flowing freely, "When I returned, Father first stripped away all my things about knighthood. My swords, my armor, my riding things, and my books," she shivered, "And then, he had Ser Gregor come to my room," her shoulders were shaking, "My father would never deign to strike me himself, so he had the Mountain do it. He held me down, and beat my face black and blue. I think I fainted from the strikes."

"So that explains why seeing Elia caused you such pain," Ned said, suddenly comparing the bruises on Elia's face to those from his memory, and finding them uncomfortably close, "It brought bad memories."

"No, not bad memories," she said, "I instead realized that Gregor could have killed me at any moment, and that the only reason…the only reason I did not meet Princess Elia's fate was because my father had him only strike me so much," Artoria looked over at Ned, her tears now freely flowing, "And yet, my father had me see Elia, to show me that he could have had me dead now, just as he had her dead."

Her eyes then turned up towards the massive statue. Her face was a mixture of fear, and confusion, and hurt. Her hands gripped the wooden bannister, and Ned saw chips of wood come off as her grip tightened.

"Tha-that ma-m-man," her voice quivered as her tears came move and more, "That man is my father. That man who killed Elia. That man who killed her children. The man who had me beaten in the same way," she was speaking as clearly as she could though her body shook, "That man is my father, and I'm to honor him."

"Artoria-"

"Gods, I remember seeing Castamere," Artoria ignored him, her green eyes pointing at the statue, "And…and he wiped them out too. Just like Princess Elia's family. Just like the victims of this sack," she then sucked in a breath, as though about to vomit, though she had had nothing to eat today, so she was luckily unable to do so, "Gods, I sang that song with such pride, and now, now I see what that is, what that means."

"Artoria."

"I'm a monster Ned," she looked over at Ned, and their eyes connected, "My father is a monster. My brother is a monster," Ned was fairly sure she meant Jaime, "My sister is a monster," that Ned could agree with, "I'm from a family of monsters, who rule a kingdom of monsters," the reference to Gregor Clegane need go no further, "so what good does praying to the gods do for me?"

Ned slowly reached his hands over and placed it on Artoria's shoulder. She flinched away, but Ned kept reaching out, and gained a gentle grip on her. He then pulled her closer, and pulled her into the softest embrace he could manage. She did squirm for a moment, but Ned held her, and slowly she moved her arms around his chest. He looked up at the Father, and then thought of the words Jon Arryn had drilled in him.

"The father does not merely bring justice," he said aloud, and he could feel the girl flinch, "The father also demands we must be just. For a knight who is not just, a man who is not just, a father who is not just," it was a small hymn that Ned remembered from one boring afternoon, "They have no claim to follow the father."

"I do-"

"Well said young Stark," Ned nearly jumped, and turned his head to around the mother. There stood Barristan Selmy, looking down at the two of them while holding himself up with his cane. Ned was about to ask what he was doing, before sighing, realizing the man was likely overseeing the bodies with the silent sisters, "You may be no knight, yet you have been taught the true words of a knight," he then placed a hand on Ned's shoulder, all the while Ned continued to hold his wife in his arm. Artoria turned her head to look at the taller man, her eyes full of questions.

"Lady Artoria Stark," Barristan declared, "You are one of the most magnificent knights I have ever crossed lances with," Ned could see the girl blush at the commendation, "You have shown bravery of the warrior, strength of the smith, the heart of the maiden, the wisdom of the crone, and," he smiled at her, "The mercy of the mother," Ned understood that was Barristan thanking the girl for allowing him to yield, "You did not fear the stranger, for you knew that you might walk with him, but that tis not something to be truly frightened of. You understand what the Father wants," he stopped, and then sighed, "but you are confused by the actions of your own father. You must accept that he is a man who could never truly honor the Seven, and you must not let him drag you into despair."

"Bu-but he is my blood," she stammered.

"All of our blood is bad," Barristan gave Ned a look, "Lord Stark, your family slaughtered the Greystarks for failing to remain loyal."

Ned winced at the story. It was not a point of pride, but it was true that had happened long ago. The Greystarks had turned to the side of the Boltons and handed over a Stark King to be flayed. The King's son would then win the war, and make peace with the Boltons, but not the Greystarks, who were wiped out. It was a dark tale of long ago, one that the Starks now used as a warning for empowering vassals and for their own vicious nature.

"They did," Ned admitted aloud, as Artoria looked at him.

"And yet Artoria," Barristan pointed at Ned, "Do you think your husband is a monster."

"NO!" she shouted, and Ned felt heat cover his cheeks from the speed she gave the answer. She then looked quite sheepish, before continuing, "Ned isn't a monster."

"Then why must you be a monster for having Tywin Lannister as a father?" Barristan turned away, "My dear girl, you are magnificent, and you surely know other members of your family who are not so rotten, so do not judge yourself for your blood. Judge yourself for who you are."

Ned's mind flashed to Gerion Lannister, helping push Artoria onto the boat. Then to Tygett, helping catch him and pull him during their escape. Then to the small little dwarf waddling along the halls of that prison called Casterly Rock, japing and joking about the many different parts of his family's history. He even thought of Tytos Clegane, sadly singing of better times.

"Artoria," Ned spoke again, "You have good members of your family," he smiled at her as she looked up at him, eyes filled with hope, "Gregor Clegane has good members of his family. You cannot judge yourself for that, even if Tywin Lannister is your father."

"Yet he is sti-"

"He no longer has any control of you," Ned pulled his cloak from his back, making sure to not disturb ice. He then slowly moved it around her shoulder, all the while Artoria's face became as red as the field the Lannister Lion danced on, "My cloak makes you my wife. You never have to go back there. Tywin Lannister could demand you return tomorrow, and no law in the land could make you."

Artoria continued to stare at him for a moment, before finally nodding. Ned helped pull the girl to her feet, both now looking away from one another. Ned heard an audible sigh, and looked back at Barristan, who looked more tickled than anything.

"You really couldn't have gone with her, could you?" Barristan asked himself. Ned blinked at that, before raising a hand, "Tis nothing, Lord Stark," he smiled, "Now, I must ask you to leave, the Septons must close the Sept, and rest for tomorrow, for they shall be busy with all this."

Ned nodded, and slowly guided Artoria Lannister, his wife, alongside the hobbled knight. For a few moments, they walked in silence, before finally heading out the Father's door. Ned then heard the door shut behind him, and made sure to pull the girl closer into an embrace.

"Lord and Lady Stark," Barristan finally said, "I must bid you both good night," he then turned on his heels, and walked back towards the Red Keep. Ned wondered for a moment if they should follow, but shook his head, deciding it would only cause more troubles.

"We should head back to our camp," he said, "We shall be leaving on the morrow," the army would be joining him and his men on a quick jaunt south to back up Hoster just in case anything went wrong. Then, they would be sent home, a surprising number of them still alive all things considered, "Will also lessen the smell," he said, before adding, "Hopefully."

For a second, the two began to walk West. After going down the main causeway from the temple, Artoria suddenly planted her feet, and stared up at Ned. She looked at him quizzically for a moment. Then, she nodded to herself.

"Ned," she said aloud, "Do you find me pretty?"

"Wha-what?" Ned stammered. Where did this come from? He shook his head, and declared, "Why yes, you are very pretty."

"What do you find prettiest about me then?"

"I-you are as-why?" he asked, as she puffed her cheeks out for a moment.

"I must know."

"...your eyes," he said finally, remembering as they stared at one another after their dance, "Your eyes," he smiled as he looked into those pools of green, "They are as deep as fresh spring grass, and as warm as a fresh spring day."

"...," she just stared at him, before he cheeks puffed up again. At first, Ned was about to try and calm her anger, but, "HAHAHAHA!" she was laughing at him. For a second, Ned felt a bit put out, and just looked at her, "Oh, oh Ned," she smiled up at him, wiping away the stains of her tears, "I hoped you say something like that?"

"Why?"

"You didn't compare them to emeralds," she said, "That'd be a very Lannister thing to do," she laughed, "If I am to no longer to be a Lannister, I do not want any part of my body compared to metals, or jewels," she grabbed a lock of her hair, "My hair is not as gold, tis-"

"Like the petals of a sunflower," he spoke up quickly, and Artoria laughed at that. Her laughter proved infectious, and soon, he was laughing too. He didn't know why, but standing here, chuckling with his wife…it felt like some of the horrors of the past two days were gone. Finally, she wiped her eyes, and then stared up at him. Ned stopped laughing as she stared, before finally as she leaned closer to his face, "What ar-"

And then she placed her lips on his.

'Oh, gods the smell,' Ned thought. It was the smell that woke one up in King's Landing, at least if you weren't used to it. Ned wasn't sure why, perhaps some kind of wind from Blackwater bay caused the smell to waft out in the morning into the camp. Perhaps the smell just built up in one's nostrils overnight, and forced the body awake for no other reason than it could. All Ned could tell was that he was up, and he still felt tired, 'Gods, I didn't even ride too much, why am I so-'

It was then that feeling returned to his body. Not just the aches and pains of a body used to war, but…soreness in other parts of him. Parts that Ned…wait, he was naked. He never really went to bed without some kind of clothing, but w-

And then he felt that his skin was touching someone else's. That this body he was next to was warming his own. He turned his head to his left, and saw sunflower colored hair in his vision. He looked down, and saw spring eyes covered by eyelids, and the girl slowly breathing in and out, somehow matching his breaths with her own.

'Oh,' Ned thought. He…he and Artoria-

'Ah, we'll talk about it more later,' he finally thought to himself. She looked so peaceful now, no reason to worry over what they'd done. They were married after all, this was what they were supposed to do. He smiled at her content features, and tried to rebuild the night before in his head. It was hazy, but…but…

…but he really needed to take a piss. He tried to pull himself free, but suddenly stopped when he felt her iron grip around his body.

"Don't go," she mumbled, "I want to lay here forever."

"Artoria," he said, "I need to go relieve myself. I don't want to get the bed dirty."

The hands released him. As he pushed himself from the covers, he looked back at her still groggy form. She opened one eye lazily, and then let out a mumble.

"Promise me you'll return?"

Ned smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her on the lips.

"I promise."