The Lord Hand

Prince Joffrey had returned from his ride with sweet Sansa yelling at anyone and everyone who he came across, his face red with anger and raving like a mad man, or so Ned had been told. He had been visiting nearby Castle Darry with Robert and their retinues to make sure their worries were heard. It was about a half-day's ride from the Crossroad Inn, across the Trident. Yet, even with a raven arriving faster than horses, Ned had little time to prepare as Lannister, Baratheon and Stark banners filled Castle Darry.

Robert sat at the high table of Castle Darry's audience chambers, his great hands rubbing at his temples. The wine on the table remained untouched, though never far from his reach. That alone told Ned how serious he considered this. The audience chambers were filled with Lannisters and men loyal to Ser Raymun Darry. The Darry's had once flown dragon banners, their eyes would watch every word and gesture with quiet loathing. He would find few friends here, which was why he left his children back at the Crossroad Inn under their Septa's watch. That had clearly been a mistake.

"Go on, then." Robert said with a grunt. "Let's hear this tale again, the short version without your nagging Mother cutting in."

The Queen looked offended as Joffrey jabbed a finger toward Lady Blake Baratheon. "She struck me, her and that dirty Stark! They turned a wolf on me!"

"I did no such thing!" Arya burst out, shooting him a glare. The wolfblood truly flowed through her veins. "Nymeria only growled, she didn't bite you!"

Lady Blake, on the other hand, had an unreadable face. Her amber, catlike eyes made Ned uncomfortable. They weren't the golden shade that many Hightowers possessed, no, these looked unnatural, likely due to her witch mother. Another reminder of why Starks belonged in the North, away from these unnatural magics. Lady Blake remained calm, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Her hair was shorter than even Arya's, falling just below her chin as she wore trousers and a tunic, dressed more like a traveler than the niece of the King.

It was hard to believe this was the daughter of Stannis Baratheon.

"She would have!" Joffrey snapped back. "And the butcher's boy, he raised a stick to me-"

"He knelt." Blake's voice cut through the room like a drawn blade, as she finally spoke for the first time since she marched into the audience chambers. "You raised steel on a kneeling child."

"Because he raised it first!" Joffrey continued yelling, urged on by his Mother who gave him an approving nod.

"To play," Lady Blake said simply and dryly. Now there was a hint of her Father. "Some knight in shining armor you turned out to be."

That earned her a disgusted look from Queen Cersei, who bit her lip after Robert forbid her from speaking.

Robert's brow twitched. "You drew your sword on a boy with a stick?" He looked at his son as though seeing him for the first time.

"He was pretending to be a knight!" Joffrey said, suddenly flustered. "It's treason. He hit the Lady Arya. I had to-"

"He didn't hit me!" Arya said for what felt like the hundreth time. "He was winning, I was trying to get better. That's all!"

Robert sighed and set the goblet down with a thud. "Gods be good. Joff, you're a bigger fool than I thought, and here I worried you were soft."

"Father!"

"Robert!"

Robert stood with another grunt, towering over them all, his shadow spilling across the floorboards. "No boy ever grew into a man hiding behind titles, and no prince ever made himself great by swinging at children. Especially a son of mine!"

"But she-" Joffrey turned back to Blake, his face red. "She humiliated me!"

It was then that Lady Blake's face changed. Her lips formed a small smirk, appearing much older than she actually was. Ned remained impassive, tearing his eyes away from the cursed girl to focus on his daughter. Arya had been enraged the whole time, as was Ned, who hadn't gotten a chance to speak with her before this whole farce began.

Sansa remained silent by the Queen's side.

"She broke a swing." Robert said bluntly. "From what I've heard, she kept you from cutting open a peasant boy. And you drew steel against your future goodsister? Seven help us, that's a kindness."

Joffrey opened his mouth again, but Robert's voice rose over him.

"I've half a mind to beat the arrogance out of you right here myself." The King growled. "But I won't, I'll let your mother see to that. And see how you like it when you embarrass her before all these Lords and knights."

The silence that followed was sharp enough to draw blood.

"Your Grace!" The Queen had been the one to break it. "Your son was assaulted and this is how you treat him?"

"Seven hells, woman, give it a rest!" Robert boomed as he waved her off. "The boy doesn't even have a bruise. I've been hit harder in the training yard, I've seen pages with bloodier bruises after an evening with Ser Aron Santagar."

He turned back to Joffrey. "You'll ride with Ser Preston Greenfield from now on until we reach King's Landing. Learn from a real knight, Gods knows you need it."

And with that, the King sat down heavily and reached for his wine. "Now someone bring me food, or I'll start swinging at children myself, everyone get outta my sight before you spoil my appetite."

The room full of spectators started the awkward shuffle towards the exit, including Ned who started to walk towards his daughters.

"Not you Ned, and Blake too." Robert's voice was still loud, even with the crowd of chittering and murmuring.

Ned stopped mid-stride, giving Arya a reassuring glance before turning back and making his way toward the dais. Blake followed with quiet steps, her hands clasped behind her back, expression composed as always. She stood to the side, near one of the tall stained windows that threw colored light across the old Darry stone.

Robert waited until the chamber doors shut behind the last noble, when his shoulders slumped, like a man taking off the weight of his own crown.

"For fuck's sake." His Grace muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Was it always like this, Ned? Or did I grow too fat to remember how things used to be?"

Ned didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Blake, who stood quietly, her amber eyes trained on the King with unreadable patience. She was so still, it was easy to forget she wasn't some carved statue of the Stranger. The Baratheon lady was unnatural, like the rumors said, but she defended his daughter. For that, Eddard would be in her debt.

"You've always been a handful-" Ned said at last, "-but never a fool. That was well done." And the best possible outcome.

Robert snorted. "Don't polish my balls just yet, Stark. You know what I see when I look at that boy?" He jabbed a finger toward the empty space Joffrey had occupied. "A brittle twig, all gold leaf and no spine."

Blake spoke softly. "He's young, but dangerous, Uncle."

Robert turned to look at her. "You're not wrong." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Stannis never mentioned how sharp his girl was, but then, that stiff-necked bastard never mentions anything unless it's miserable."

Blake bowed her head slightly. "Father believes action speaks louder than words."

"Aye, well, maybe he should have spoken less," Robert muttered, then looked back at Ned. "I'll need your thoughts on what to do about the direwolf. Cersei's already planning blood."

"She didn't bite him." Ned said flatly.

"That Doesn't matter, Cersei will want the beast leashed or gone." Robert looked tired, eyes bloodshot though the wine hadn't touched his lips. "Talk to your girls, Ned. Keep Arya close till we reach King's Landing. I don't want another fire breaking out in my cart."

He looked back at Blake. "And you, I should put a ribbon on your wrist and send you to bark at the Small Council, but for now well done. Stannis may be humorless, but I'll give him this, he raised a fine daughter. How did you lift a branch strong enough to block castle-forged steel?"

"Baratheon strength." Blake's smile was small and razor-thin. "I try to make our House proud, Your Grace."

Robert chuckled once, bitter and low, then waved them off. "Go on, both of you, before I'm talked into making Joffrey your squire, Niece.

Blake dipped her head again and turned to leave. Ned followed after her, his steps heavy. He needed to speak to Arya and Sansa.

They were stepping out of the chamber doors when Ned finally spoke to the future Lady of Dragonstone.

"You have my thanks, Lady Baratheon." Ned said carefully, avoiding her amber eyes. Who knows what sort of magic or witchcraft was within them. "You defended my daughter, and the honor of House Stark."

"Of course, my Lord Hand." Lady Blake said, her voice low. She gazed at him from the corner of her eyes. "Children who are innocent deserve to have the chance to play, before they must face the world grown and weary." She spoke as if she wasn't ten and four namedays old, still a child herself.

"I am in your debt, my Lady." Ned tightened his jaw. Lord Stanmis was far from being a friend, he was hard and unmoving, the opposite of Robert, but he was still a good, honorable man. Ned would need his help in King's Landing, if the Lannisters really did murder Jon Aryn.

"I only did as I must." Blake formed a tight smile.

There was steel in this girl, steel and something else, something older than her fourteen name days should allow. It wasn't the cold, dutiful severity of Stannis Baratheon, nor was it the empty arrogance of her cousin Joffrey. There was a clarity in her voice, the kind that came from seeing too much too young. She reminded Ned, faintly, of Lyanna, fierce and unyielding.

He didn't care for the comparison.

"Even so." He said at last. "You did right by Arya. I'll not forget that."

Blake's expression softened, just a little. "Neither will she."

A/N

I'm so surprised I'm still keeping pace with my writing.