"I shall require your help," Eddard Stark said firmly as Tomard appeared, looking faintly apprehensive, as he often did when called upon by his lord.

Edric hesitated before speaking, his voice quiet but insistent. "Father, are you certain? Perhaps there is another way—"

Ned silenced him with a steady gaze. "This must be done. It's necessary even." he repeated. "Even if it may not seem wise."

Tomard hesitated. "With your leg, my lord—"

"Spare me your doubts, Tom. Take me to the godswood."

Edric glanced at his father's injured leg and hesitated, then asked again, quieter this time, "You're sure this is the right moment?"

Ned only nodded. Tomard summoned Varly, and with one arm around each man's shoulders, Ned managed to descend the steep tower steps and hobble across the bailey. Edric followed closely, his concern visible in the furrow of his brow, but he held his tongue, letting his father lead.

"I want the guard doubled," Ned commanded Fat Tom. "Send all of my guard to Dorne's estate."

Tom blinked, his uncertainty evident. "M'lord, with Alyn and the others away, we're hard-pressed already—"

"It will only be a short while," Ned replied curtly. "Lengthen the watches."

"As you say, m'lord." Tom hesitated, glancing at Edric as though seeking his support, then back to Ned. "Might I ask why—"

"Best not Tom" Edric cut him off.

The godswood was empty, a place of quiet solace in the bustling citadel of southern gods. Edric trailed slightly behind as his father was lowered to the grass beside the heart tree.

"Thank you," Ned said, drawing a paper sealed with the direwolf sigil of House Stark from his sleeve. "Kindly deliver this at once."

Tomard took the paper and hesitated when he read the name written there. His lips pressed into a thin line. "My lord…"

"Do as I bid you, Tom," Ned said, brooking no argument.

Edric's gaze followed Tom as the man left, then returned to his father. "You've set this in motion, haven't you?" he asked quietly, his voice edged with apprehension. "If you've any doubt at all, this is the time to reconsider."

Ned's stern gaze softened briefly as he looked at his son. "Doubt is for the undecided, Edric. This must be done."

They waited together in the godswood, the peace of the place wrapping around them. The sounds of birdsong, the murmur of crickets, and the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind filled the silence. Edric stood to one side, his arms folded, his posture tense as he watched over his father. The heart tree, an oak brown and faceless, seemed to watch as well, its presence a silent witness.

She came at sunset, as the sky burned red above the castle walls. She arrived alone, as instructed, her steps unhurried but deliberate. For once, Cersei Lannister was dressed plainly, in leather boots and hunting greens. When she drew back the hood of her brown cloak, the bruise on her face was plain to see. The angry plum color had faded to yellow, but it was unmistakable.

"Why here?" Cersei asked, her voice sharp as her green eyes flicked between Ned and Edric.

"So the gods can see," Ned replied evenly.

Her gaze lingered on Edric for a moment before returning to Ned. "A curious choice of audience. And a curious companion." Her lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "Both the wolf and his pup."

Edric stiffened but said nothing, stepping slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the queen.

Cersei sat beside Ned on the grass, her movements graceful and unhurried. Her golden hair caught the fading light, and her beauty was undeniable. "I know the truth Jon Arryn died for," Ned told her.

Her eyes narrowed, wary as a cornered animal. "Do you?" she asked, her voice a dangerous purr. "Is that why you called me here, Lord Stark? To pose riddles? Or is it your intent to seize me, as your wife seized my brother?"

"If you truly believed that, you would not have come," Ned said. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the bruise on her cheek. "Has he done this before?"

Cersei flinched and pulled away, her composure faltering for a heartbeat. "Once or twice," she admitted, her voice low. "Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him for it, even if it meant his own life."

Edric let out a quiet derisive laugh. "A badge of honor wasn't it my lady. Well you should hope the badge fades quickly, your grace. Else the gods themselves may mistake you for a victim in this farce."

Cersei froze mid-step at Edric's words, her shoulders stiffening beneath the dark folds of her cloak. Slowly, she turned back to face him, her green eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

"What did you say?" Her voice was low, the venom in it unmistakable.

Edric met her gaze with a measured calm, his arms still crossed over his chest. "Only that the gods might pity you, Your Grace. Though I imagine even their patience has its limits."

"A victim, am I?" she said, her voice low and cutting. "Such bold words for a boy clinging to his father's shadow. Tell me, Edric Stark, do you fancy yourself clever? Or is this insolence born of the ignorance you wear so proudly?"

Edric met her glare with unflinching confidence, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Clever enough to recognize a poor hand when I see one. And insolent enough to point it out. Shall we call it a gift?"

The queen's hand flexed at her side as if resisting the urge to strike him. Instead, she offered a bitter laugh, cold and sharp. "Enjoy your little jests while you can, young wolf. The game you play is far beyond your depth."

Cersei took a step closer, her chin lifting imperiously as her lips curled into a cold smile. "You have your father's stubbornness, but none of his wisdom, boy. Beware how you speak to your queen."

"I'm aware of your titles," Edric replied, his tone as sharp as the edge of a blade. "And your actions. One hardly needs wisdom to see where they've led you."

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but her composure quickly returned. "A wolf pup who thinks himself a lion," she sneered. "But you'll learn soon enough that even wolves bleed."

"Perhaps," Edric said with a faint smirk, tilting his head slightly. "But they don't kneel."

"Enough, Edric." The words carried the weight of a father's authority, allowing no room for argument.

"As you say, Father," he murmured, stepping back allowing his father to continue.

After a few moments of silence "Your brother?" Ned said, "Or your lover?"

"Both." Cersei's tone was calm, her gaze unflinching. She did not shy from the truth. "Since we were children together. And why not? The Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel... whole." A ghost of a smile played across her lips, faint and fleeting.

Edric, standing a short distance to the side, let out a soft, incredulous chuckle. "Charming," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for both his father and the queen to hear. "And they call us northerners savages."

"My son Bran..." Ned began, his voice steady though edged with steel.

To her credit, the queen did not look away. "He saw us. You love your children, do you not?"

Robert had asked him the same question not long ago, on the morning of the melee. Ned gave her the same answer he'd given then. "With all my heart."

"No less do I love mine."

"All three are Jaime's then," Ned said. His words were firm, not posed as a question.

Cersei tilted her head slightly, the shadow of a smirk curling her lips. "Thank the gods."

"The night of our wedding feast," she continued, her tone turning bitter, "the first time we shared a bed, Robert called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna."

Ned Stark's face tightened, his heart twisting at the mention of his sister. Pale blue roses filled his mind, unbidden, and for a moment, he felt a hollow ache deep within him. "I do not know which of you I pity most," he said, his voice low.

Edric's brow arched, his expression bemused. "It's certainly a contest worth debating," he murmured, earning a sharp glance from his father.

The queen seemed amused despite herself. "Save your pity for yourself, Lord Stark. I want none of it."

"You know what I must do," Ned said, his tone grave.

"Must?" Cersei stepped closer, her hand resting on his good leg, just above the knee. "A true man does what he will, not what he must."

"The realm needs a strong Hand. Joff will not come of age for years. No one wants war again, least of all me." Her hand reached for his face, her touch lingering in his hair. "If friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends."

"Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?" Ned asked, his voice cutting through the tension.

Cersei's hand froze mid-motion, and her face hardened. With a swift motion, she slapped him across the face.

"I shall wear that as a badge of honor," Ned said dryly, his tone unshaken.

Edric coughed lightly, a hand covering his mouth. "Careful, Father. The queen's generosity knows no bounds."

Cersei spun to face him, her eyes blazing. "And you, young wolf? Do you share your father's narrow view of honor, or have you the sense to see the broader picture?"

"I see a lot," Edric replied smoothly, his tone laced with irony. "Though some pictures are best left unpainted, don't you think?"

Her lip curled, but she turned back to Ned, her voice sharp. "Honor," she spat. "How dare you play the noble lord with me! What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?"

"For a start," Ned replied coldly, "I do not kill children. You would do well to listen, my lady. I shall say this only once. When the king returns from his hunt, I intend to lay the truth before him. You must be gone by then. You and your children, all three, and not to Casterly Rock. If I were you, I should take a ship to the Free Cities, or even farther, to the Summer Isles or the Port of Ibben. As far as the winds blow."

"Exile," she said, her voice quiet but trembling with fury. "A bitter cup to drink from."

"A sweeter cup than your father served Rhaegar's children," Ned replied. "And kinder than you deserve. Your father and brothers would do well to go with you. Lord Tywin's gold will buy you comfort and hire swords to keep you safe. You shall need them. I promise you, no matter where you flee, Robert's wrath will follow you, to the back of beyond if need be."

Cersei rose to her feet, her cloak swirling around her. "And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?" she asked softly, her eyes locking first on Ned, then flicking briefly to Edric. "You should have taken the realm for yourself. It was there for the taking. Jaime told me how you found him on the Iron Throne the day King's Landing fell, and made him yield it up. That was your moment. All you needed to do was climb those steps, and sit. Such a sad mistake."

"I have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine," Ned said, his voice quiet but firm. "But that was not one of them."

"Oh, but it was, my lord," Cersei insisted. "When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground." She turned her hood up, hiding her face, and looked at them both one last time before sweeping away into the darkened godswood.

Edric let out a low whistle, his arms still folded. "Well, that was cheerful. Shall we prepare for Robert's wrath... or hers?"

Eddard Stark looked up as the door creaked open, his grim reverie interrupted. Edric stepped inside, his brows furrowed with curiosity and concern. He glanced around the room, noting the parchment on the table, the candle burning low, and his father's wearied expression.

"What's going on, Father?" Edric asked, his voice steady but edged with unease. "I heard whispers in the hall—about the king and... other things."

Eddard sighed, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. For a brief second, he hesitated, as if debating how much to share. Then, he motioned for Edric to close the door.

"Robert is dying," Ned said quietly, his voice raw with sorrow. "A hunting accident... a boar."

Edric's eyes widened, and he took a step closer. "Is there nothing to be done? The maesters—"

"The maesters have done all they can. He will not see the morning." Eddard's tone was final, the harsh truth leaving no room for doubt. He gestured toward the sealed letter on the table. "I've written to Lord Stannis. He must know the truth and act swiftly."

Edric's gaze lingered on the letter, then shifted back to his father. "And the queen? Renly? What of them?"

"Renly has his plans, but I will not be part of them," Ned said firmly. "Cersei has schemes of her own, no doubt, but I will not shed blood in Robert's halls or make war on children. There are lines even I will not cross."

Edric frowned, his mind racing with the implications. "But if you don't act, they will. The Lannisters won't wait. Neither will Renly."

Ned stood, his towering form casting a long shadow across the room. He rested a hand on Edric's shoulder, his grip both steady and reassuring. "What must be done will be done in time. But it will be done rightly, with honor. That is the way of the Starks."

Edric met his father's steely gaze, searching for reassurance amidst the storm swirling around them. "And if the way of the Starks isn't enough, Father?"

Eddard's expression softened, though the resolve in his eyes remained. "Then we face what comes"

Edric took a breath, steeling himself as the weight of his father's words settled on him. He looked down at the letter, then up at Eddard, his thoughts turning to their next steps.

"Father," he said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of urgency, "is the ship for our departure ready?"

Eddard gave a slow nod, his gaze distant as he glanced out the window, the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. "I have. The Wind Witch sails tomorrow evening. We'll leave at dusk, before the storm truly breaks."

Edric felt a mix of relief and apprehension. "The path to Winterfell? And the golden haired Baratheon children?"

"I've made arrangements," Ned replied with a grim finality. "Tomard will take the letter to Stannis. The moment we leave King's Landing, we will make for Dragonstone, and from there, we will secure our path north."

Edric nodded slowly, understanding the importance of every step. "And Cersei?"

His father's lips pressed into a thin line. "Cersei will remain here, for now. But whatever she does, we must be ready. I've no taste for intrigue, Edric, but the Lannisters will not be left to their own devices."

Edric's mind turned over the strategy, weighing the risks. "We leave before the sun sets tomorrow. How long before the others will know we're gone?"

Eddard met his son's gaze. "We'll be gone before anyone knows we've moved. Our departure will be quiet, swift, and final."

Edric felt a tension in his chest, the need to leave this dangerous place pressing on him. "Then we must get ready."

"Indeed," Eddard agreed, his voice calm but filled with a quiet urgency. "And we must hope that Robert's death does not set the realm ablaze before we can get clear of it."

The Dornish estate was quiet, save for the murmur of voices at the table. The flickering light of early morning cast long shadows across the room, where a gathering of familiar faces lingered over their final meal before the long journey. Eddard Stark sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought, while Edric sat next to him appearing pensive as he observed the exchange, the weight of the moment pressing upon them all.

Sansa, still forlorn, barely touched her food. Her gaze was fixed upon her plate, her thoughts lost to a place far from the present. Her usual grace was absent, replaced by sorrow. Arya, on the other hand, was as quick with her food as ever, her appetite insatiable.

"Syrio says we have time for one last lesson before we take ship this evening," Arya said with eager anticipation, looking to her father. "Can I, Father? All my things are packed."

Eddard raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A short lesson, and make certain you leave yourself time to bathe and change. I want you ready to leave by midday, is that understood?"

"By midday," Arya repeated eagerly, a flash of determination in her eyes.

But before Arya could say more, Sansa lifted her head, her voice tinged with a quiet frustration. "If she can have a dancing lesson, why won't you let me say farewell to Prince Joffrey?"

Eddard's gaze softened as he looked at Sansa, but his response was firm. "It would not be wise for you to go to Joffrey right now, Sansa. I'm sorry."

Sansa's eyes brimmed with tears, her voice breaking as she shot a pleading look toward her father. "But why?"

"It's not fair!" Sansa cried, her voice trembling with the weight of her frustrations.

Edric, who had been quiet until now "Father," he said, his voice calm but firm, "I must insist. Neither Sansa nor Arya are not to leave the estate, not now, not after what has transpired."

Eddard's eyes turned to his son, his gaze filled with a weight that seemed to say everything needed between them. But Edric pressed on. "You've said yourself that we are not to trust anyone right now, that the Lannisters are too close, and every move we make must be measured. To let Arya go for a lesson, is a risk we cannot afford."

Arya's mouth tightened, her enthusiasm immediately faltering as she shot Edric a look filled with both surprise and indignation. "You would forbid me? you—"

"Sansa's actions will bring more trouble than you realize," Edric said sharply, his voice unwavering. "And I will not allow Arya to leave the grounds either."

Both Sansa and Arya froze at his words, their gazes locking on Edric, the tension in the room palpable. Arya's face flushed with anger, her fists clenching at her sides, while Sansa's hurt was quickly replaced by the fury of being dismissed.

Arya's eyes flashed with anger, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Father already told me that I can go!" she spat. "You can't tell me that I can't even have one last lesson, You can't stop me, Edric!"

Sansa, was glowering at Edric. Arya turned to her father, her voice rising. "Father, you promised me!"

Eddard stood, his silence heavy as he looked at Edric first and then at Arya. "Edric is right," he said quietly, his tone final. "Both of you will remain within the estate. There is no room for argument."

Arya's face flushed with rage, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "This isn't fair!" Her eyes blazed, and her voice cracked. "But you promised me…"

Eddard's expression softened, but the finality in his voice remained unshaken. "The world is changing around us, Arya. We must be careful, cautious. We cannot afford to make any more mistakes."

Sansa, her face flushed with anger and betrayal, looked from Edric to her father, her voice shaking. "You treat me like a child!"

"I do what I must to protect you," Eddard replied calmly. "And for now, you are to remain here. For your safety, and for your own good."

Sansa's eyes burned with unshed tears, her heart aching with a mixture of helplessness and resentment. Arya, unable to hold back, shot a glare at Edric. "You don't understand, Edric. You've never been treated like this."

Edric's response was cold and unflinching. "You're both better off for it."

Ned stood up from the table, his movements slow. He gave a final, lingering glance at his daughters before he made his way toward the door, his expression hard and unreadable. "I'll leave you to your breakfast. We'll discuss this further when we're leaving."

The moment his footsteps faded, Arianne entered. She moved gracefully to the table, her eyes scanning the room briefly before she seated herself next to Edric. Without a word, she leaned toward him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something only he could hear. Her voice was soft, but there was an undeniable edge to it. Edric's expression remained unchanged, though the faintest flush crept onto his cheeks as Arianne's lips brushed against his ear.

Arya and Sansa both watched the interaction, their tempers simmering under the surface. Edric seemed unperturbed, but his sisters were anything but unperturbed.

Sansa's face reddened with fury as she slammed her hands against the table, her voice rising in disbelief. "How is this fair?" she spat, her voice quivering with frustration. "Why do you get to leave the estate? Why are you treated like you're different from us? You get to go to Dorne, while we were stuck in Winterfell, and now in King's Landing, freely able to leave whenever you please!"

Edric's expression remained calm, though a flicker of discomfort passed across his features at the intensity of their words. He shifted slightly in his seat but said nothing.

Sansa, unable to contain her frustration any longer, continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "We never get a say in anything! We're told to stay here, to wait, and now this... You can do whatever you want, Edric. You're treated like a guest, like you have freedom. We're just... just kept in the dark."

Edric finally broke the silence, his voice steady but carrying frustration. He looked at Sansa first, his expression soft but firm.

"Sansa, I understand you're angry, but throwing around accusations won't change anything. I didn't ask for the path I've been given," he said, his tone not defensive but trying to reason with her. "I was born into this. I didn't get to choose whether I went to Dorne or stayed in Winterfell or came to King's Landing."

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle before turning to Arya.

"Arya, I know you want to leave this estate," he continued, his voice more empathetic now, "but it's not like I have free reign over my life. We all have our duties, our expectations to meet. Just because I can leave the estate doesn't mean I want to. It's not as simple as you think."

Arianne, unbothered, simply placed a hand on Edric's arm, her fingers lightly tracing his skin in a way that made it clear she was utterly unconcerned with the growing rift between him and his sisters. She turned her gaze to Arya and Sansa, her voice sweet.

"There is nothing unfair about Edric's position," she said softly, her eyes flashing with a knowing look. "Firstly he is older, one with his own path to follow, just as you each have your own. But he is not bound by the same expectations as you. The world is not so simple."

Sansa's rage only deepened at the implication, her hands clenched tightly at her sides as she shot a glare at Arianne. "You don't understand. You don't live the way we do. You never have to stay in one place, waiting for something—anything—just to happen! While we're stuck being told no, over and over again."

Edric didn't move, his expression unreadable as Arianne's soft chuckle broke through the storm of their words. "Perhaps," she murmured, leaning back in her seat, "the two of you are too focused on your circumstances. There is more freedom to be found in accepting your place than in fighting against it."

Sansa's jaw clenched. "That's easy for you to say," she retorted bitterly, staring at Arianne and Edric with a mixture of envy and disdain. "You're not bound by the same rules we are."

"I am older, and I have been trained to handle the responsibilities that come with the things I'm allowed to do. It's not just about what I want or where I go; it's about what I'm capable of managing."

"I've spent more time in the world outside of Winterfell than either of you," Edric said. "I've been to multiple kingdoms now, to the courts, to places you haven't yet seen. Father trusts me to navigate those places. He trusts me because I've learned to stand on my own, to make decisions, to understand the weight of the things I'm entrusted with. It's not a matter of freedom, Sansa. Or of being treated better than you. It's a matter of capability."

"And yet you were free," Sansa shot back, her voice quivering with emotion. "You saw the world while Arya and I were prisoners of Winterfell, and now here, in this estate!"

Edric's calm facade finally cracked, his voice sharper than before as he leaned forward, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. "You think I want to leave this estate?" he said, his words laced with frustration. "You think I enjoy walking out there, where every step feels like a gamble with my life? I don't! It scares me to death, Sansa. Every time."

Sansa and Arya froze, their anger momentarily overshadowed by the raw emotion in Edric's voice. Even Arianne turned to him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"But I do it anyway," Edric continued, his voice trembling but resolute. "Because I have to. Because it's what's expected of me. Father doesn't give me a choice—he expects me to rise to the occasion, whether I'm ready or not. I don't have the luxury of staying safe within these walls, or hiding behind the family name."

He exhaled shakily, his hands unclenching as he leaned back, the fire in his gaze dimming slightly. "I'd give anything to stay here, to not have to face what's out there. But that's not how it works. If I don't go, who will? Will you Arya? Sansa? You're not ready yet, no matter how much you wish it. One day, you'll have your chance. But right now, this is mine."

The room was silent, the weight of Edric's outburst settling over everyone. Sansa's lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Arya looked away, her defiance replaced with uncertainty. Even Arianne, always quick with a sharp comment, seemed to sense that silence was the only response Edric needed.

"You both have your own strengths, but until you understand that freedom comes with responsibility, it's not yours to have. I may have gone to Dorne and traveled to King's Landing, but I didn't do it because it was easy. I did it because our family knows that I can handle it. You'll have your time to learn, but for now, you need to focus on what's expected of you, just as I did."

His gaze softened slightly as he added, "I don't mean to belittle you. But you need to understand that some things come with age and experience. It's not about being treated unfairly; it's about learning when you're ready."