Author's Note: Hello again lords and ladies. We're over 200 reviews now and only a few shy of 500 follows, so thanks again for all your support!

I hope you enjoy this update.

Chapter 23

Original word count: 1,437

Revised word count: 3,284

Across the river a man held court, determining the fate of thousands.

Including mine, and my child's.

A tent stood on the Royalist side of the river, its black material bearing the crimson three-headed dragon and housing a war council. The ground before it had been cleared of bodies but remained a muddy, bloody mess, evidence to the slaughter that had happened there. And that bank saw far less fighting. Ned glanced around him. Where once there had been reeds and riverbank there was only mud and blood. Teams of men were still scouring the Trident, pulling bodies half buried in silt from below. She no longer ran red, fresh water from upstream cleansing the ford of some of its horrors and washing them towards the sea, but Eddard wondered if it would ever truly be clean again.

The Ruby Ford, they call it now. Men of both sides had combed the waters around Rhaegar Targaryen's body for the gemstones Robert's hammer had smashed from his breastplate. Such a pretty name for a place of such horror.

"Ned," a voice called behind him, and Ned realized he'd been staring at the Trident for a good while. He turned, seeing Jon Arryn waving towards him from a chair. "I would come to you, but you moved better than I even before the wound." The Lord of the Vale had had his own pavilion brought up, as had Lord Tully, though Hoster now sat beside Jon in the Valeman's tent. Ned had not called for his own, having had too much energy to stay still for long, his mind never far from the fate of his child.

But it would be rude to reject the man who had risked everything to protect him. And might have lost everything, if Aelor is not as lenient as he indicated he would be. Ned entered the pavilion, taking a seat at a small table beside his mentor.

Lord Tully gestured across the river. "Surreal, isn't it."

Ned nodded, glad he wasn't the only one. "We were all trying to kill one another yesterday. Now we're all sitting by a river in the shade." He gestured towards the trays of cheese and bread on the table before them. "Like it's a bloody picnic."

Arryn laughed, though it was a hollow thing. Jon had not truly laughed or even genuinely smiled since before the battle that claimed his heir and surrogate son. Ned didn't blame him, for neither had he. "The perplexities of war, lad."

"Your leg?"

"It will heal." Arryn lowered his voice a moment later, to where only Eddard and Hoster could hear. "If the terms are unacceptable, know I will have your back, my boy. I swore to protect you and Robert when this all began. I failed him. I won't fail you."

"You didn't fail Robert," Ned said, a lump in his throat at the loyalty of the old man. Jon had been a second father to Eddard, and a closer one than his first since Ned had been in the Eyrie and under his protection from the age of eight. Rickard Stark had been a good man who loved his children, but he had been a hard man as well. Jon was a different type of strong, the sort who cared deeply and let you know it. The sort I intend to be for my child, Gods willing. "We fought. We lost. We all knew the risks."

Hoster Tully nodded. "True enough, and he's right, Jon. You failed no one."

Arryn didn't acknowledge that. It was clear that, to Jon Arryn, he had failed, and would not be convinced otherwise. "Just know that I stand with the North, should things turn sour."

"As do I," Lord Tully said. "We are tied together, the three of us, come what may."

What came was a blessing, in the grand scheme of war.

Ser Desmond Langward, having continued his role as envoy between the two sides, summoned them two hours before dusk. The three lord's paramount and their chosen lords, as well as Lord Tarth and a handful of others from the Stormlands, crossed the Ruby Ford and climbed the muddy bank, dismounting under the eyes of a hundred royalist knights. Their eyes were hard and unfriendly, as were the looks returned by the rebellious lord's own guards, but no threats or jibes were exchanged as the men entered the black pavilion.

Aelor Targaryen sat at the head of a long table of oak, watching them as they entered. Two large banners flanked his chair, one bearing the three headed dragon in red of House Targaryen, the other the warring white dragons of his personal coat of arms. Standing just to the side of each were two men in Kingsguard white. Ser Barristan Selmy, who had turned the royalist retreat while Aelor fought Robert, and Ser Arthur Dayne, who had slain mountains of men in the rebel rear.

Four others sat at the table, all of whom Ned either recognized or could guess by their sigils and the reputations they'd earned in the battle. Oberyn Martell of Dorne, who had been in the flanking force with Ser Arthur and killed Ser Bonnifer Grell and two of his sons, sat at Aelor's right. Jon Connington of Griffin's Roost, who had fought in Rhaegar's guard and killed Denys Arryn in the melee, followed on that side. Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, who had held a shieldwall at the river's edge, sat to the prince's left. He was followed in turn by Kevan Lannister of Casterly Rock, who had, alongside a dozen other Lannisters from his personal guard, strengthened Tarly's line and acquitted himself well there.

Other men stood along the walls of the tent. The Hightower knight who had broken the rebel left, a nervous looking lad in Darry brown, and a dozen others both recognizable and less so. Also present, at a smaller table alongside the lefthand side of the tent, were three maesters in Citadel robes, stacks of parchment both black with ink and still empty, a half dozen inkwells and quills at the ready.

"Welcome, my lords," Aelor Targaryen greeted, nodding once at the men and gesturing towards the end of the table nearest them. There remained four chairs, pointedly empty. "Please, be seated. I leave it to you to determine who shall represent the Stormlands."

Ned, Jon and Hoster took a seat, as did Lord Selywn Tarth by previous decision of the surviving Stormlords. The big man nodded once to Aelor as he did so. "That would be me, Prince Aelor."

The prince nodded at the man. "You cannot speak for your new Lord Stannis, I understand that. But I will offer the same terms for each of the Stormlords individually, then come to terms with Stannis once Lord Tyrell has him in custody. Agreed?"

Lord Tarth nodded. "Agreed."

"Good." There was a moment's pause, and then the prince shrugged and spoke. "As I told you this morning, my brother was the diplomat. I don't have the skill or the inclination to give you all some grand speech. Shall we simply begin?"

Ned glanced at Jon Arryn, who gave Aelor a nod of his own. "I think we'd all prefer it that way, Prince Aelor."

"Excellent." He waved a hand, and two of the maesters gathered the paper already marked upon and approached the seated rebel lords. The third had begun writing the moment Aelor opened his mouth. "For the sake of clarity, I will say aloud what you will each find written there."

Ned glanced at the parchment the short maester handed over, then up at the prince to find Targaryen looking at him. "As I said this morning, you had just cause in your discontent, Lord Stark. I also said Lyanna will return North, and that I will not hold your child responsible for you raising arms against the crown. I meant those words, and I will honor them."

Relief filled Eddard's chest, though he tried to keep his face even and to return the prince's violet gaze. "Thank you, Prince Aelor."

Aelor cocked his head. "There will still be reprimands, however, and while they will not punish your innocent child, they will concern them. When that child is five namedays old, he or she will come to King's Landing as a ward of the crown. They will be a companion to King Aegon if you have a son, or to Princess Rhaenys if you are blessed with a daughter. From that age on, they will alternate yearly between King's Landing and Winterfell, living one year in the Red Keep before returning to Winterfell to live the next among the North and its customs. This arrangement will continue until he or she is six and ten, at which age the crown will…assist in the selection of a suitable match."

The prince glanced pointedly at Hoster Tully then. Ned did not miss the significance; the alliance struck by the marriages of Lord Tully's daughters bound three regions together in rebellion, something House Targaryen would clearly be mindful of in the future. Eddard waited for more, but to his surprise Aelor simply looked at him. That can't be it. "Is…Is that all?"

Aelor shrugged, scarred face calm. "As I said, your reasons for rebelling were the strongest of them all. Half of House Stark was wiped out by my family, in a manner they did not deserve. You yourself would have lost your head if you hadn't called your banners. My lords and I have taken that into consideration, and whatever my father have been, I am not above listening to reason. As it is, we will require ten hostages from the North, children of your lords younger than five and ten, and each of a different house. They will serve as pages or squires for five years to ensure your bannermen do not revolt against either the crown or you. Some will serve in King's Landing, while others will be placed in the care of loyal houses."

Aelor didn't wait for Eddard to comment this time, his attention settling on Jon Arryn. "Your role in rebelling and your reasons for it are also reasonable, Lord Arryn. My father forced your hand, and you played the one you thought best. Be that as it may, the first child of your union with your Tully bride will have the same arrangement as Lord Stark's. The Vale will forfeit a third of its foreign trade revenue over the next five years to the crown for war reparations. Finally, your bannermen will, like the north, offer ten hostages of the appropriate age, all of different houses, to serve where the crown sees fit to place them."

Jon Arryn nodded once, seemingly in acceptance of the terms offered him, but spoke before Aelor could move on. "What of Stannis and Renly?"

The Dragon of Duskendale glanced to the table for a moment before looking up. "They followed their brother's lead, as is expected of younger siblings. I cannot fault them for that. They share the same ancestry your lordships used to raise Robert up, but I am not cruel. He is dead, as is my brother. The younger Baratheon's will not be unjustly punished for the elder's actions. Renly will foster with either myself or one of my lords, and both he and Stannis will renounce all claims to the Iron Throne before the court. Other reparations, monetary in nature, will be needed. So long as they agree to peace, however, they will keep their heads." The prince extended a hand to Lord Tarth. "As for the Stormlords, I am requiring ten hostages and increased port fees for Stormland based ships, save for those of Lord Connington."

The prince directed that hand to Connington, then to Ser Kevan, who watched the proceedings quietly. "The Westerlands will be reprimanded as well, Lord Tywin in particular, but Ser Kevan and his men served us faithfully on the Trident. He and I have been working out the terms of those privately."

Finally, Aelor faced the third of the lord Paramounts. "That leaves just one, doesn't it Lord Hoster. The special arrangement with Lord Stark and Arryn's firstborns will serve to keep your ambitions grounded as well, considering your shared blood with them. Odd to think that the child could have been of royal blood, since I offered marriage to either of your daughters. Yet you bypassed it for a chance to marry them both into two other regions, seeing an opportunity to increase your family's standing even more if new kings sat on a throne that you and your goodsons helped them win. I must note that your involvement in the war was driven strictly by ambition, not slights and offences against your family. Ambition is a dangerous thing when you can't reach what you are grasping for. It and these factors have made your punishments the most severe."

Eddard's goodfather remained calm, meeting the Prince's eyes steadily. The prince's own were as hard as stone. "Your son Edmure is ten years of age, so I hear. He will be sent to King's Landing immediately, to serve as my squire until I deem him fit to knight, be that five years or fifty. As with Lord Stark's child, the crown will weigh in heavily on Edmure's marriage once he is of age. And of course, there will be the requisite ten hostages from your lords."

Aelor glanced at Lord Arryn, then back to Hoster. "It was discussed that an annulment between Lord Jon and Lysa may have been warranted, to break up this alliance the three of you have built. I have ruled against that, though I do not deny the wisdom in the idea." Aelor lowered his head, the stone in his eyes replaced now with intense fire. "I will admit, your rebellion irks me the most. We gave you the Riverlands, Lord Tully. You were lords of only Riverrun before Aegon made you more. There was talk I should take the paramountcy back." Hoster stiffened beside Ned, though he held his tongue. Aelor paused, then slowly shook his head. "But I ruled against that as well."

Before Hoster could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, the prince gestured to the boy in Darry brown against the tent wall. "This is Raymun Darry, fourth son of Lord Winston. His brothers died for the crown yesterday, and his father passed of his own wounds during the night. He, along with Lords Ryger, Whent, Mooton and Lady Goodbrook, will be rewarded for that loyalty to House Targaryen. They are no longer your vassals, my lord. They, as well as their subsequent vassals, are now part of the Crownlands, bannermen to King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name." Aelor held up a hand when Tully opened his mouth to protest. "I have made my stance clear, Lord Tully. My first terms are my most generous, and I'm not here to negotiate them. If you wish to continue this war, leave now."

Ned could only watch as the two men held a silent battle of wills, the possibility of more war in the balance. He was suddenly faced with the very real, very daunting choice of taking the generous terms offered him and abandoning his wife's family, or risking all of them and continuing the fight in Lord Tully's defense.

His goodfather took the decision from him. After a moment of tense silence, Hoster Tully gave a minuscule nod.

The Dragon of Duskendale leaned back in his chair, taking the rebelling lords in as a group once again. "I find these terms to be more than generous, and some find them too generous. I believe they are just, however, as you are willingly bending the knee when you could have prolonged this war for months. You have my word, for what that's worth to you, that the hostages will be treated well and cared for as is befitting of their stations. You rebelled against the crown, against House Targaryen, and that is something that won't be forgotten. But my family played our own part in it, and that cannot be forgotten either." Prince Aelor nodded at the parchments in front of them. "If one or more of you find these terms unacceptable, you will be free to return unharmed to your men and continue this war. You have been warned of the punishments I will dole out if you do; that blood would firmly be on your own hands. If you agree to these terms, however, I as Hand of the King welcome you back into the King's Peace."

Each man looked at one another, Eddard meeting his goodfather's eyes and tilting his head in question, wanting to make sure Hoster still agreed; Riverrun would by far be the most weakened by the peace. The Lord of Riverrun held them for a moment, unmoving, and Ned made his final decision. I could not have dreamed of better for House Stark this side of victory, but I will not abandon the Tullys to save my own skin. But please, Hoster, think of Cat.

After what seemed an age, Tully inclined his head.

Eddard, relief in his heart, nodded his own at Jon Arryn, who spoke to the prince. "We accept."

Half a grin, the same smirk Eddard once remembered being a permanent fixture on the prince's face, returned. "I am thankful for your wisdom, my lords." The Prince of the Iron Throne stood, prompting all others at the table to do the same. Eddard noted that Aelor had to brace himself on his chair to do so, his wounds apparently more than the prince had let on. Robert must not have been far from killing them both. If that had happened…But Ned forced the thought from his mind. The war and its what ifs were done.

Aelor signaled to a group of men waiting outside the tent flap, and servants rushed in with glasses and wineskins. As each man was given a glass, the three lord paramounts took pen and quill, and signed their names.

And so ended Robert's Rebellion.

Once it was done and every man had a glass, Aelor raised his high into the air." To King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name." All men present repeated the toast, then downed their cups. "Go, my lords. Speak with your men tonight and gather the names of the hostages. We will reconvene in the morning to determine final details, and to discuss the march to King's Landing to swear for King Aegon."

As low conversation broke out, the rebel lords turning to shuffle out of the tent, Aelor called out again. "Lord Eddard, remain a moment if you would." Jon Arryn met his eyes before nodding and leaving the tent, cane in hand. "Oberyn, Barristan and Arthur remain as well. The rest of you leave us. Lord Tarly, prepare your men and escort the lords back to their camp."

Once the tent had emptied, the Dragon of Duskendale limped to stand in front of Lord Stark. "There is one detail you and I must work out privately, Ned." He patted the parchment Eddard had signed mere moments ago. "An amendment to this can be made, if it is needed."

Ned Stark raised a brow. "Prince Aelor?"

The big Targaryen seemed to search for proper words, then finally seemed to give up on the idea and instead spoke simply. "I agreed Lyanna will return north with you. Know that that is something I want every bit as much as you do." Aelor sighed tiredly. "But there is something about her that you must know first."e is something about her that you must know first."