Ned

He frowned as he looked over the papers that were scattered over his desk. It felt like the papers were growing every day… or perhaps multiplying. Ned suddenly had a vision of his papers lying in little matrimonial beds, producing baby papers that would grow up and found houses of their own, creating an entire kingdom of their own. One that would topple down and crush him if he grabbed the wrong sheet.

'I can see now why Robert thought of giving up his crown,' Ned thought to himself as he selected another paper, reading it over. It was a report from Reedmen, who had been passing by on their journey back to the Neck after searching for the missing Jojen and Meera, that Lady Dustin was still refusing the fly the flags of Winterfell over Barrowton. His Small Council had decided that, in order to show their loyalty, all should fly the Direwolf upon its white field over all major cities within the North. He had thought it quite foolish and a waste of money but he had begun to see that sometimes such gestures were needed not for a king but the people. 'If he had to deal with all of this over Seven Kingdoms I would want to leave for Essos as well.'

"Your grace?" Maester Luwin asked, looking over at Ned which caused him to run his fingers through his hair when he realized how concerned the older man was.

"Sorry, Luwin just… " He waved the paper weakly. "Lady Dustin continues to be a problem."

Barbrey Dustin had long been a problem for Ned, ever since the Rebellion. Willam Dustin had ridden with Ned to retrieve Lyanna and died fighting against the Kingsguard that had stood in their path. In cruelest of ironies had he lived he would have been Ned's greatest ally, one of the few to know the secret concerning Jon… but his death had turned his wife into Ned's fiercest foe. Barbrey blamed Ned for Willam's death and for never bringing his bones back for proper burial and thus shown only the barest of respects for him.

'Of course there may be… other reasons…' Ned thought, glancing at the window where he knew Drax was practicing in the yard. Barbrey, it was rumored, had lost her maidenhead to Brandon and had held that she was destined to be the next Lady of Winterfell. But when Ned's father had passed her over and Brandon had later died she had cursed all the Starks for their actions against her. She refused to even talk to Cat and had never come to any of the celebrations held for the children. When the Greyjoys had rebelled she had sent only a small amount of men, claiming that a Summer Flu was keeping the bulk of her forces in bed. When he called for meetings with her she always had an excuse. She was an irksome woman and a growing frustration.

And… with Ned finding his temper fraying more and more thanks to the Lannisters…

"She continues to give excuses why she can not send proper forces to help enforce our boarders in the Riverlands?"

"No," Ned said. "That would require her to actually give an excuse. Now she simply refuses, ignoring the commands. I have given her as many chances as I can to change her mind. I have allowed others to speak with her. But she continues to show her disrespect to me and my family." He looked over at the map of the North, rising and running his hand along it. "But I'm afraid we've reached the end of it all."

"You mean to remove her?"

Ned sighed. "I wish not to… but truth be told… Barbrey has no true claim to Barrowton. She is not a Dustin… she married Lord Dustin but she is not of his line. She bore him no children. I have been kind and allowed her to rule but she has named no heir and made no attempt to prepare for a time after her. My shame drove me to show her kindness and my feeling that I was not the true Warden of the North but rather a thief stealing Brandon's seat caused me to allow her to continually push past the line."

He swallowed, shutting his eyes and feeling the air blast through his nose.

When he turned his eyes were hard, ice coating his heart.

"We will march on Barrowton in three week time."

"Will you treat with her?"

Ned frowned. "No. No… I think not. I have given her far too many chances… if I allow her to believe that she can push this far and be given no punishment, or that she can use this as a tactic in order to allow herself to have a better deal… well, I will never be able to hold the North. I will ride out and I will deal with her. She will be removed and a proper steward will be placed in command of Barrowton." He rubbed his chin. "I will need to determine who will be made its new lord…"

"You will not name Bran or Rickon as Lord?"

Ned shook his head at that. "Even with my father stating that Bran is alive I can not name him as Lord of Barrowton. They must see that he is there, ready to learn of them… if he should perish it would be far too cruel to have them deal with that upheaval again. As for Rickon…" Ned sighed. "Rickon is no longer of the North. He is too wild and strange to be given such a place."

Ned loved all his children. He truly did. They were the lights of his life. After the war, when he'd returned to his childhood home to find that the halls that had once been filled with Brandon's laughter, Lyanna's war cries, and Benjen's baby giggles, it had only been Robb and Jon that had gotten him through those dark days. More than once he'd gone and collected the two babes, bringing them to his father's solar so he could listen to their coos and gurgles and not feel like he was trapped in a tomb. That had continued on with the rest of his children. Sansa had often sat on his lap while he went over the reports of the harvest, trying to snag papers so she might drool on them. Arya would only sleep when he allowed her to run around his desk, screeching so loudly that servants would come in convinced that a goose had somehow snuck in. Bran would start at his feet, playing with a wooden ball, only to climb up onto his lap and then try and get over his shoulders. And Rickon loved, for some reason, to suck on his fingers, resulting in many papers ended up with odd wet spots.

He loved his children. They made his entire time as the Lord of the North bearable.

…but he wasn't blind to their faults.

'Rickon is too wild now,' he thought. 'Too strange. He sounds nothing like us. His focus is all over the place. He would hate being the Lord of Barrowton and they would hate him.' He shook his head. "I will see that Rickon is provided for. Perhaps a new village, one he can shape on his own… but Barrowton is ancient. They were Kings of Winter before even the Starks. Respect must be shown to them."

"It will be a valuable piece to use," Luwin reminded him.

"Aye… Barbrey hasn't been seeing to them properly either. Their harvests are low and I have received reports that the Barrow Woods haven't been cared for like it should. In the proper hands it will serve the North well." He rubbed his chin in thought. "I will need to give it to someone… but who?" He began to pace about his solar, a habit he had picked up again after the long rides across the North. It had been the same after both Robert's and the Greyjoy's Rebellions: the need to move. It had taken him years to break the habit and sit still and yet it had returned. "It is a reward… one I must give to one who deserves it. Roose only has a single son and he is a babe… while I know of the bad blood between our families he has been loyal due to the succession being so unstable. But I can't give a babe Barrowton when he will also have the Dreadfort. I would suggest the Mormonts but Jeor Mormont's actions have tainted their family… the people of Barrowton would worry about anyone of their House ruling them." He shook his head. "That would have been a good choice…

"That leaves the three of my most powerful allies: the Umbers, the Karstarks, and the Manderlys. All have spares who would make for good lords. The Umbers have been the most loyal of all so I feel I should reward them…"

Luwin spoke up. "But doing so removes a way to build greater loyalty among the others?"

"Aye. Rickard is a prickly bastard but letting him build up the Snowcloaks has mellowed his greatly. And he still have a second son… but I risk giving him too much and creating another Greystark situation. As for the Manderlys they are allies, yes… but too many of them keep the Seven. They would do the best with Barrowton but I risk the same alienation I caused by building the sept…"

"Perhaps it would be best to hold onto this question for a time, your grace," Luwin stated. "After all, many things might change. There might be no need…"

But Ned shook his head. "No, Luwin… no, Barbrey will not remain the Lady of Barrowton a second more. And I will not allow her to select one of her brothers to be her heir. I gave her nearly 2 decades to set things right and instead she still wanders about in her widow garb, flashing her fangs at me if I get too close. I have shown kindness… but now I must show her that I can back that kindness with steel."

"What… will you do with her?" Luwin asked tentatively.

That was the question. And it depended on Barbrey herself. In a perfect world she would allow herself to step down and go return to her father or perhaps go to the Dreadfort, since Roose was her goodbrother through his first wife. But Ned doubted she would do such a thing.

'She will cling to Barrowton like a spinster clings to her shawl in a stiff breeze,' Ned thought. 'And I will need to dig her out. She is like an old tree stump, with roots going deep… it will not be clean.'

"And your grace might find more than he suspected," Fury stated as he entered the room, his long black leather coat swishing behind him. "Reasons why Barbrey Dustin should be removed… along with her father."

"Lord Rodrik?" Ned asked. 'If there was any question of why Barbrey is the way she is… Lord Rodrik is the answer.' The man was a scheming greedy fool who had earned the name 'Tywin of the North' and not for any good reason. He treated his children as pawns, marrying off his eldest to Roose and attempting to get Barbrey married to Brandon and then to Willam. He spat in the face of house tradition by choosing a personal coat of arms, changing the black stallion of house Ryswell to a golden one. His sons he moved to marry about throughout the North but had been met with difficulty because they were utterly quarrelsome… some claimed he was less Tywin and more Walder Frey for that. He was brutal with prisoners he captured, showing no mercy; more than once he had told the tale of the Seventy Nine Watchers as if it were a joke rather than a tragic tale.

"Yes, your grace," Fury said, motioning towards a chair and when Ned nodded he sat down, folding his hands on his lap. Ned took back his chair and listened as his dark skinned Master of Whispers spoke. "Lord Rodrik had spoken to more than one Lord concerning the need for… changes… when it comes to your rule."

"Namely that it not exist?" Ned asked.

But that caused Fury to shake his head. "Not quite. He feels that Lord Bolton should be removed from his post."

"Remove Roose?" Ned asked, surprised. "Roose has done a fine job." He had been made Ned's Lord of War and had managed the Southern Borders well. "And he is Lord Rodrik's goodson!"

"He WAS Lord Rodrik's good son. But now Lord Bolton is married to a Frey and it will be her child who is Lord of the Dreadfort. Lady Barbrey keeps contact with him but Gretin Bolton does not seek her out as a friend."

"Aye, that is true," Ned muttered. "Despite their different natures Gretin is far closer to Roslin." It wasn't merely their blood or the desire to have a better connection to the future Queen of the North that drove Gretin to write to her sister; Ned could tell from how Roslin spoke of her that the two did care for one another, in their own ways.

Fury nodded. "And there is the matter of Roslin herself. He also has made clear that he believes that it was foolish of you to honor the agreement your wife made with Walder Frey."

"It was a ill-thought arrangement," Ned admitted. "But it has worked out well." Roslin had won over many in the North. She was beautiful, yes, but also strong and determined. When the Greatjon had made a comment about her blowing over in the slightest breeze she had merely replied that she 'wouldn't stand behind him then', causing Lord Umber to laugh so hard Ned thought he might piss himself. She knew how to command the castle staff but not in a way that brought about anger. And of course the tales of her journeying North with the Guardians was well known, with the Smalljon swearing fealty to her after their journey. 'She earned her title of the Stone Wolf.'

"It does not matter to Lord Rodrik." Fury paused. "It is a rare disagreement between father and daughter… Lord Rodrik whispers Robb should set Roslin aside and marry a true Northern Girl. He has gone to several of the more prickly houses in the North, ones with daughters of age, and whispered that it should be their child who is the future queen."

"And Lady Barbrey?"

Fury paused.

"What did she say?" Ned demanded.

"She stated that it is a tragedy that only Bran fell from that tower."

Ned jaw clenched. "She… did what?"

Luwin paled. "She would not have. To make such a comment is to risk calls of treason."

"There is no risk of calls when you've already done it," Fury said finally, pulling out Raven Message. "This was intercepted by my spies. It is her own handwriting."

Ned slowly unfurled the message.

'Barrowton remembers its oaths, unlike the traitors in the North. Give the word and Rebellion will come against Ned Stark. We will finally finish what you started and take his head.'

"Who?" Ned rumbled.

"The raven was meant for King's Landing."

"Your grace," Luwin said at once but already Ned was rising.

The Lannisters.

Barbrey Dustin was plotting with the Lannisters.

The ones that had killed Robert. Who had forced Sansa into Lady's body. Who had caused Arya to flee Westeros. Who now held Jon in a gilded cage.

"JORY!" he roared and at once the door opened and the captain of his guard hurried in.

"Your grace," he said, moving to kneel or bow or… do something… Ned didn't care.

"Enough of that," he snapped dismissively. "Bring me my armor. All of it, and for all the Lords in attendance. We ride tomorrow and we take Lady Barbrey Dustin's head!"

"A moment!" Fury called out just before Jory could leave and Ned snapped his head in the other man's direction. "A moment…" Fury repeated. Ned narrowed his eyes and the Master of Whispers approached him. "You are angry, your grace… I understand-"

"You will NEVER understand how angry I am!" Ned thundered. "I have allowed Barbrey her little tantrums and she has rewarded my kindness by plotting with our sworn enemies. I will drag her from Barrowton and throw her into the dungeons to rot until I am ready to take her fucking head!" He slammed his palm against the desk. "If you think you can talk me out of this-"

"Of course not," Fury informed him. "She must die. That much is clear. I only suggest you… think things through."

Ned could feel his upper lip trembling at that. "Consider very carefully your next words, Fury… I already have one traitor whose had will meet Ice."

Fury, to his credit, did not bluster not did he quiver in terror at the threat. "I understand. I merely preach that we be smart about this." He held out his hand. "I can assure you that there are no spies in Winterfell."

"I might not be good at Southern Politics…" Ned hissed, "but I learned during my time as Hand of the King that no keep is free of spies."

"True," Fury admitted. "But I can assure you that what spies are here I control fully. Even if they do not realize it. The easiest way to deal with a spy is to control the spymasters they report to." Ned remained silent; it was an interesting theory but he doubted Fury would be able to practice it in full. Trust was as fickle as the weather it seemed. "Right now Lady Dustin-"

"Barbrey," Ned snapped. "She has dishonored Willam with her actions. As of this moment she is Barbrey Ryswell once more… and that house might not survive for long either."

He had little doubt that Barbrey's father was aware of her actions with the Lannisters; the man was controlling and Barbrey for all her posturing always ran to hide behind him when she pressed too far. It had been him that had protected her from Robert's wrath when he'd learned that Barbrey had not sent the proper forces to help put down Balon Greyjoy, pleading on her behalf and in the end sending more of his own men to assist in taking Pyke. And Lord Ryswell was far too much of a rat to not want to know what his daughter was doing.

'He knows,' Ned thought darkly. 'He heard how Joffrey broke his word and would have had me killed… how he caused Sansa's death. How he ordered Bran killed by that assassin!' That little bit of news had been delivered by his father and sister and it had only been Drax restraining him that had kept him from marching on King's Landing. 'And he ignores that all in the foolish hope that he might once more hold a bit of power in the North.'

Though not as well known as the Barrow Kings, the Marsh Kings, and of course Red Kings, the Ryswells had a direction connection to a royal Northern House, The Horse Kings. House Ryswell however had been founded by a bastard of the Horse Kings, House Ryder, and only been given dominion of the Rills when the Starks had put down a final rebellion by the Ryders, slaughtering all but a single son who was said to have disappeared North of the Wall, taking the name Rayder. He knew that it burned Rodrik that he could not truly claim that his family was once of noble blood like the Dustins, Boltons, Reeds, and Starks.

'It is why he sought to marry his daughters first to House Bolton and Stark and then House Dustin. And Howland sent me word even before Robert came North that Rodrik had been sending many ravens hoping to wed his son to Meera Reed. He thirsts to be closer to a throne… any throne… and does not care if that means sacrificing the last of his honor.' Ned grit his teeth. 'The Rills will need a new Lord too, so perhaps the debate about if the Karstarks, Manderlys, or Umbers will be given Barrowton will be easily solved.'

"Of course," Fury said, drawing Ned from his thoughts. "Barbrey Ryswell doesn't know that we have intercepted the message. In fact only the four of us," he gestured at himself, Ned, Luwin, and Jory, "have learned the truth. This plays to our advantage.

"But I assure you now, your grace, if you march into your throne room and tell all the lords that you are going to take her head… she will know before you get into your saddle the next day. Someone will talk… perhaps out of a desire to forge an alliance with her. Perhaps merely out of a sense of compassion to give her time to flee. But they will warn her. And at best she will leave for Essos and you and your son will spend the rest of your days wondering if she might return. At worst she will dig into Barrowton and force you to slaughter all in the city… and disgrace yourself fully."

"What do you suggest then?" Ned asked. "Because allowing her to live after these actions is out of the question."

"Of course," Fury said with a quick nod of his head. "I'm not suggesting otherwise. But…" He suddenly looked to, of all people, Maester Luwin. "Tell me… what is better to carve into a man's belly, if there is a need to remove an arrow head? A hatchet or a small knife?"

"Why, a small knife, of course."

"That is what I suggest," Fury said, looking once more at Ned. "You will get your justice… but you are no longer a Lord… and no longer a boy. You are a King and a man… and you must behave as such. You can't go charging out in a full gallop anymore… you must put your faith in others."

Ned worked his jaw back and forth, trying to find something, anything, to refute Fury's claims… before letting out a huff of frustration. "Fine," he ground out. "Fine. You are right… I can't have her escaping."

"Give the word, my lord, and I will bring you the traitor," Jory said.

Fury nodded. "Jory would be a good choice… but might I recommend Prince Robb?"

"Robb?" Ned asked. "You wish to risk my son-"

"You were going to risk yourself," Fury pointed out.

"That is different."

"It is," he said in agreement. "You don't have some black goo from another world that can absorb sword swings and arrows."

Ned turned and looked out the window. 'I hate to admit it but he's right. Robb and Venom… that would be able to counter anything that Barbrey might send at them, should she get word that I have learned of her deceit.'

Luwin spoke up. "She may be far more… open… to his arrival than yours, your grace."

"She will see him as a boy that she can cast aside… while tales have spread throughout the North of Venom most believe it to be merely mummur farces," Jory added. "Even some of the guards still think it's a lie… and he hasn't been exactly subtle in his new form."

Ned nodded at that. It was true that Robb had done nothing to hide his partner. Many meals had seen Venom pop his head out from Robb's neck; it still was odd to Ned to have the gooey black mass suddenly ask him to pass the mutton.

"If he is subtle about it," Fury continued, "he can enter and take her without breaking guest rights. After all, even if Robb accepts bread and salt Venom doesn't have too."

It was underhanded and sneaky and normally Ned would have been disgusted with such talk… but the more he thought about Barbrey and what she was trying to achieve the more he was willing to push his honor aside.

'After all… how can one lose their honor when dealing with an honorless creature?'

Maester Luwin cleared his throat. "I quite agree, your grace. And if he wanted young Robb could simply declare his intentions at the gate. Barrowton wouldn't have time to call for reinforcements. It would be good for young Robb to show what kind of commander he is."

"People are already forgetting his actions in the Whispering Woods," Jory stated. "They need to remember that the Young Wolf has teeth."

Ned finally nodded. "Very well. Where is Robb?"

"He stated he wished to patrol the Wolf's Woods," Luwin told him.

"Did he take any guards with him?" Ned asked.

Luwin though shook his head. "He said that it would be a waste."

"Damn it all," Ned muttered. Even with all Venom could do Ned still worried about his son and wanted to keep him safe. Such recklessness… "Very well. Jory, I want you to get word to the men at the gate. The moment Robb returns I wish to see him."

"At once, your grace," Jory said and with a quick bow he hurried off to deliver the new orders.

That left Ned with Fury and Luwin.

"There are other matters I wish to discuss with you, your grace," Fury said.

"Of course."

But before Fury could say a word there was a knock at the door. "Your grace," Rossel, another of his house guards, said from beyond the doorway, "Princess Jane Seaworth and Queen Shireen Baratheon are here to see you."

"It appears it will need to wait," Ned said only for Fury to smirk. "…or not. You sent for them?"

"I did, your grace." He then went silent and, after a few moments, Ned let out a grunt and called for the women to enter.

Shireen and Jane were so utterly different from each other. The former was Stannis' daughter; none could mistake her for anyone else. If Ser Brienne of Tarth did not exist she would have been the tallest woman Ned had ever seen. Her face was stern and strong, like a statue's, and the grayscale that had once made her the subject of pity now made people step back in shock, adding to her fierceness. Jane, on the other hand, looked nothing like Ser Davos Seaworth. She was short and lithe, an utter beauty that would have easily been at home in the South. Though that wasn't to say that Jane struggled in the North… far from it. She had blended in well, joining Shireen in the training yard often. He remembered how Robert had said she was known as "The Stranger's Daughter" and he believed it having seen how quickly she could wield her knives. Of course just as impressive was Shireen with Thunderstrike, her massive war ax-hammer.

Even though the two appeared to be the same age he knew that Shireen saw Jane as her mother and honored her by offering her the right to sit first, even though Jane was only the Princess of Asgard while Shireen was the Queen of the Valkyrie. Of course they had explained to Ned that the Valkyrie Queen served the Asgardian Royal House and thus she was belowJane's station… but they had lost him when they'd admitted that they were both gods, Jane through birth and Shireen through the rituals she'd used to become Queen.

Catelyn, realizing that Jane was the daughter of the Stranger and married to the Smith/Warrior, had fainted three times, forcing Maester Luwin to constantly revive her. Even after the last few weeks she still became tongue-tied around the two of them.

"What might we do for you, King Eddard?" Jane asked with a smile.

Ned turned to Fury. "I suppose I should tell them to direct their questions to you? You're the one that summoned them here."

His Master of Whispers merely smirked at that. "The thing is… we haven't had a chance to talk since either of you arrived."

"Is this where you ask us our intentions, spymaster?" Shireen said, as blunt and to the point as her father had always been.

"It is a question that needs to be asked," Fury commented.

"I would have thought that my aiding Yondu and Rickon in dealing with Euron Greyjoy and the rescue of Robb Stark would have been enough to show you that I am an ally." She paused. "Or the fact that I have not driven a blade into Rickon's scrotum after his repeated, and rather pathetic, attempts to woo me."

Ned let out a quiet groan at that. He honestly needed to have a talk with his son about how one was to court a woman. Rickon was utterly helpless, all the grace and skill he had in the training yard not translating at all when it came to talking to Shireen. He could charm others easily; many of the guards had stated they weren't sure about him only to spend a day in his company and see him as a good and trustworthy ally who would fight side by side with them. But Shireen? Any ability to make nice with her seemed to disappear, left with the desperate fumblings of a lad who had no idea how to show a woman that he was interested… or, rather, that she should be interested in him.

"The Asgardians live long lives," Fury said. "And they have been part of many wars. I'm sure you," he looked to Jane, "were told about them by your father?"

Jane raised an eyebrow. "A few."

"And you know that an ally one moment can become an enemy the next. And Westeros is far worse at that. The Rebellion shows how quickly an enemy can suddenly turn their cloaks… and then turn it again. The Lannisters have made it into an art form, after all, as have the Tyrells. So it isn't unreasonable for me to want to know exactly where you stand." He kept his gaze fully locked on Jane. "The Baratheon forces didn't fully commit to taking on Euron Greyjoy. They were sent off to deal with other matters. I'd like to know what matters those are, where they are currently at, and what they will do now."

"Then perhaps," Jane said with a cold little smile, "you should bother to address Shireen, seeing as she is a Baratheon and I am not."

Fury side-eyed Shireen and Ned had the sudden feeling that it hadn't been an error that had caused Fury to dismiss Shireen. Rather an attempt to learn just how much sway Jane's arrival had had on the woman.

"Well?" Fury stated.

Shireen merely stared at him for a long moment. "It would seem to me that King Eddard would still have a Master of Whispers even if he was blind."

Ned felt himself stiffen as Shireen's shadow, cast against the front wall of his solar thanks to the weak sunlight coming in through his window, suddenly grew darker and larger… and shifted towards Fury. Rickon had told him how Shireen had been able to call forth her father's spirit in the form of a shadow and he had a sensation of growing dread that what he was seeing now wasn't a mere trick of the light.

Fury though merely remained calm. "I would think all of you would know that there is more to gathering information than listening."

"I would think you would know that it is unwise to taunt a woman who leads the warriors that ferry the dead."

"Enough," Ned finally said. "I won't have bloodshed here." He turned to Fury. "Leave."

Fury didn't protest. He merely rose up and bowed his head. "Of course."

But as he passed he suddenly lurched, letting out a grunt as he nearly went down to one knee. He shot Jane a dark look and Ned wondered just WHAT the woman had done… but she didn't even react, instead continuing to look right at Ned. After a moment Fury continued on, though it was with a limp.

"You realize," Shireen said the moment the door was closed, "that he only did that because now he thinks we'll talk like dear sweet friends, bonding over how much we dislike him."

Ned pressed his lips together before letting out a huff. "Aye, I realize it now." He rolled his head back. "Damn it all, I hate these games."

"I have long bemoaned myself how people must make things far too complex," Shireen stated.

"Is that a jab at me?" Jane asked.

"If I were seeking to insult you, mama, you'd know it," Shireen stated, flashing her a teasing smile that showed while she might act much like her father Shireen was her own person. "King Eddard-"

"Ned," he said, raising his hand. "It will make this conversation take twice as long if we use everyone's titles."

Shireen nodded, it clear from her relaxed features she was pleased with that request. "Ned. I want you to understand that while to the rest of Westeros I am a little girl who suddenly returned a woman I have lived all my years. I have earned my adulthood. Fury wishes to play his games like I am a child… I am not. I am a woman grown."

"Of course," Ned said. "It is… I suppose easier with you than it is with Rickon, who I admit I struggle with."

"Not helped he is an immature buffoon," Shireen muttered before shaking her head. "While I would enjoy greatly disappointing Fury by having us reveal nothing… you should know of my plans." She rose and walked over to a map Westeros that hung on the wall. It was dotted with pins, the tops of each dabbed with a bit of paint to represent the different armies and forces that Ned had to deal with; both his own and of his many enemies.

Ned rose and began to point out the different forces of interest. "The Lannisters hold the Westerlands, of course, and through the Tyrells the Reach. They also hold the Crownlands."

Jane rose and shook her head. "They don't truly hold them. They are merely not seeing them rebel. There is a difference. A stronger, more palatable regent calls for them to side with them and they will turn."

"I just don't know if they will side with me," Ned stated. "The Crownlands are loyal to the Targeryens and will not forget easily that I led to their fall."

Shireen glanced at him. "If… you presented a lost Targaryen-" Ned snapped his head in her direction but Shireen merely raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't Gamora, if that is your concern. I deal with the dead, Ned. I speak with them." She paused. "Ser Arthur Dayne wishes you to know… he holds no anger for your part in his death. It was honorable battle. His only regret is that you met as enemies rather than allies."

Ned squeezed his eyes shut, the echo of swords clashing against one another and Ser Arthur's cry when Howland stabbed him from behind filling his mind.

He forced the visions away. He couldn't deal with any of that.

"No," he said. "I won't do that to Jon. He is a prisoner of the Lannisters… if word gets out he will be killed on the spot."

"And after?" Shireen pressed. "When he is free? Will you truly deny him his birthright?"

Ned opened his mouth to give word to the excuses he'd made countless times over the years, when he had thought about Jon and how he was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms… and found at once that they had shriveled up and died. Robert was dead, so he was no threat to Jon. And he certainly hadn't been a better king that Jon would be. Westeros was already in a war so Jon's claims wouldn't be throwing it into turmoil. And could he honestly say that he was doing it for Jon's own good… when he himself wore a crown?

Shireen, seeing that he had no answer for her, turned back to the map. "Dorne remains isolated, for the moment. The Vale too, due to the actions of your goodsister. The Riverlands and the North firmly belong to you."

She paused.

"And I hold the Stormlands in full."

"…in full?" Ned asked.

It was Jane's turn to smirk at him. "She's been oh so busy."

Shireen chuckled at that before looking at Ned. "I have sent my most trusted generals to alert all that I have returned. They will remain silent for now but they are preparing. In secret ways." She glanced over at Jane.

"Wars are not always won on the battlefield," she stated. "Dorne proved that with the Conqueror. The Stormlands are quietly sealing up their borders, placing patrols at important roads and bridges, gathering food for the Winter to come. Boys are training in the yards through all the villages and Keeps and castles, learning how to wield swords and shields. Envoys have been sent to mine dragonglass from Dragonstone and ship it to us. When Thanos arrives, we-"

She was cut off by the door slamming open, startling them all.

"Your grace… you must come at once."

"What is it, Jory?" Ned asked, startled by his friend's pale features. Jory looked like a green boy after his first battle, rattled by the blood that coated the fields. "What has happened?"

"A wagon from Wolf Bend, your grace. It…" He swallowed. "You need to see it."

At once Ned was rising; Jory was not one to become shaken easily. Whatever the wagon contained must have been truly terrible if it was bothering him as it was. He grabbed his sword, considering for a moment asking for Ice to be brought to him before deciding against it, reasoning that it would be paranoia to take the Valyrian Steel blade with him. Maester Luwin was hurrying behind him and after a moment Jane and Shireen were following as well.

"What is Wolf Bend?" Jane asked.

"A walled village on the opposite side of the Wolf Woods," Ned stated. "A large one, though usually it only has a small population. Its like Wintertown, designed to hold a great many people when Winter comes. Farmers and such will come there and live in communal halls when the snows begin to truly come down, working together to survive."

The passed through a doorway and down a flight of stairs before finally coming to the main yard of the castle, where the wagon was waiting. He looked at the guards, seeing that while they were still at attention they were looking just as pale as Jory was. He understood why when the wind shifted and the foul stench reached his nose.

"Rot," Shireen murmured and at once her wings flared out and her hand went to her weapon. "That is a death wagon."

Her claims were proven all the more true when Ned finally made it to the back and saw two bodies lying on the ground, covered in tarps. Standing near them was the wagon driver, a Snowcloak with his face bundled up in scarves to try and help against the smell, and an old man sitting on the ground, curled up on himself as he stared blankly at his boots.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I was riding a patrol when I happened upon it, your grace. Wolf Bend… empty save for this old man… and the bodies."

"Someone… killed all of Wolf Bend?" Ned asked, aghast.

"It is far worse than that, your grace," the Snowcloak said.

Maester Luwin chimed in. "King Eddard?" he motioned for him to come closer and Ned fought against his gag reflex as he approached the Maester, who had been looking over one of the shrouded bodies. "Look at this." He pulled up the tarp and Ned nearly vomited up his breakfast.

The chest cavity had been completely hollowed out. Ribs snapped and broken, skin shredded, muscle torn to bits. The organs were completely gone, leaving only blood and bile and other fluids that sloshed in the cavity when Luwin shifted the body to examine the sides and the neck where three long deep gashes had cut into the flesh. That was the only kindness, that whatever had torn the man apart had at least killed them quickly with the slashes on the neck before digging into their chest.

"Ned?" Drax said, far softer and gentler than Ned had ever heard him, both as Drax and Brandon, and Ned blinked when he realized that his legs had fallen asleep due to how long he'd been lost in his thoughts. "Brother, are you with us?"

After a moment he nodded. "Aye." He shook his head and glanced down at the body once more. "Do you remember that Theon's Night before I went to the Vale? You had gotten back from spending a few months in Barrowton- focus." He snapped, glancing at his brother.

Drax though merely narrowed his eyes. "I can focus on things other than women, Ned."

He didn't say a word. He wasn't in the mood to discuss Barbrey Ryswell at the moment.

"And aye, I remember," Drax stated. "We went down to find Theon the Hungry Wolf's tomb and touch it. We never did find it, thanks to Lyanna."

"We were never going to find it, you know that," Ned said with a huff. His brother was just mad that Lyanna had scared them with Benjen, who she'd 'borrowed' from the nursery; the babe had cried and made the two of them jump. "The crypts go too deep. We're lucky we got as far as we did." He shook his head. "But you remember what we found down there? The journal?"

Drax nodded. "Bran the Shipwright's writings. Of the attack on his vessel." It was the one thing Ned knew his brother had never discussed. Even though Brandon hadn't believed what was written in there, he had never said a word. Drax looked down at the body and grimaced. "Reminding you of that."

Ned nodded. "See the scraps and cuts on the bones? I've seen this on deer carcasses that the wolves get to. Something merely didn't dig out the organs… it ate them." He slowly got up and turned his attention to the Snowcloak. "You gathered up the others?"

"No, your grace," the man said and before Ned to question him about that he continued, "that is the worst part."

"What do you mean, the worst part?"

"Whatever did this… it stacked the bodies for me." He gestured at the still covered wagon. "It took the time to do that."

Ned swallowed.

"Your grace," Luwin said gently, softly, rising to his own feet as he finished with his examination. "A word?"

Ned nodded and Drax followed after him, calling out over his shoulder, "Have them prepared for burial. And see to the old man! Full comforts of Winterfell." Servants scurried to do as they were commanded and Ned looked at his brother, a slightly bemused smile tugging on his lips. "What?"

"That is the most lordly I've ever seen you."

"I know… I hate it." He shook his head. "I would have given up being Lord of Winterfell in a single year, Ned. I'm not built for it."

It was a strange thing to think about… that in another world Brandon might have lived yet Ned would have still ended up as the Lord of Winterfell, with his brother going off to fight with sellswords in Essos or explore parts of the North that hadn't been trodded by the boots of civilized men for centuries. A strange thing to consider.

When they were far enough away from the others Maester Luwin turned to Ned and sighed. "I have looked over the bodies and heard what you have said to your brother and agree with the assessment: those people were butchered and then fed upon. It was something larger, perhaps a head taller than you, your grace. The wounds weren't made with any blade though."

"What do you mean?" Ned asked. "They were cut open."

"They didn't show signs of a sword or a knife. The cuts on the neck all bled at the same rate… they were made at once."

"Maester Luwin… what are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting… that they were made by a single being. A single person." The Maester swallowed. "Your grace… I have served Winterfell for three decades now. I helped bring all but one of your children into the world and have cared for you." The old man took a steadying breath. "It is known that… since his travels with Rickon… Prince Robb has changed."

Drax instantly spoke up. "Robb didn't kill those people."

Ned though… wasn't as convinced.

'Venom speaks often of desiring flesh. Talks about eating organs. I know the cooks provide him with raw hearts and livers to feast upon.' It was something Ned had never seen, for Robb and Venom were very careful to do it in private, away from Catelyn lest he upset her… but it was still something he had done.

"Your children… the wolf's blood is hot in their veins," Luwin continued. "And we know little of Venom and what he is doing to Robb. He disappears often, seeking to be on his own. Without guards many times."

Ned's jaw worked. "Robb… is in the Wolfs Woods today."

"Brother…" Drax argued.

But he held up a hand, looking to the green man. "Quietly gather a few men. Ride out and find Robb. Return him to me. We need to talk."