Ned III & Jon III (283 AC)

Ned III

To the end of his days, Ned would never be sure if he'd have been able to reason with the three former Kingsguard. It was a moot point: the moment he saw Ser Barristan was in the party, Ser Gerold Hightower's sword was out of its scabbard.

From there the matter was out of Ned's hands: it was all he could do to keep Ser Oswell's sword out of him as the three knights attacked his own party. Outnumbered almost three to one they shouldn't have stood a chance but these were the greatest knights of the south and they showed it.

Theo Wull was the first to fall, and then Ned caught a glimpse of Ethan Glover - who had survived so long in the dungeons of King's Landing - on the ground with his mail split by a blow from Dawn.

With a cry, Martyn Cassell reeled backwards, clutching at the stump of his sword arm and then Ned was facing Oswell Whent alone and the riverlander was grim-faced as he caught Ice on his shield and turned it aside.

Behind him, Ser Gerold seemed to stumble and Barristan's sword licked out with deadly effect. Witnessing this distracted Ned and his misjudged a parry, not quite turning aside Oswell's sword before it cut through his boot and into the calf.

Forcing himself upright, Ned was almost reconciled to death when Howland Reed leapt up onto the knight's back, a long dagger in his hand. The sudden onset of battle was such that none of them wore helms and the crannogman dragged the blade beneath the kingsguard's jaw.

Ned gasped for breath and staggered, almost falling as he took in the situation. Only three men still stood: himself, Howland and Ser Barristan. For a moment he feared that that was all that lived, but William Dustin forced himself up to his knees and over the thundering of his own breath Ned realised he could hear the sound of Martyn Cassel weeping in frustration as he tried to stem the blood from the stump of his arm.

"Gods."

Ser Barristan looked at Howland as if about to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead he strode to William and helped him to his feet. Even he gasped as the lord of Barrowton's face came into view, a bloody ruin.

For his part, Ned limped over to Martyn and unbuckled the wounded man's swordbelt. "Hold it steady," he directed Howland and then drew the belt tight around the stump. The sworn-sword gritted his teeth to keep from screaming as Ned tightened the binding until the blood stopped.

"I think Arthur may live," Barristan observed, looking over at the fallen man that had once been a brother to him. "I struck with the flat of my blade."

"That's taking a risk," Howland mumbled.

"You are correct, Lord Reed. However, it would be awkward to have killed him when I hope to ask for his sister's hand."

Ned stumbled and not just due to the pain of his calf. "His sister's hand?"

The look on the middle-aged knight's face was almost... was he embarassed!? "I realise I would have little to offer Ashara... I have no lands of my own, nor any prospect of them. But if I had not been in the Kingsguard, I would have asked her to dance at Harrenhal."

"By all the gods..."

Barristan looked slightly hurt. "I appreciate that I may be being an old fool but..."

"No, no." Ned straightened. "If she says yes, I will find you land in the North, Ser Barristan."

"That is most gracious of you, Lord Stark!"

"Now if you don't mind, there's another lady I'm concerned about."

Leaving Martyn and William in each other's care for the moment, the other three men walked to the tower's door.

Jon III

Jon considered it a positive sign that the Martells were warming to Robert's reign when he was invited to meet with Doran again, this time at the Water Gardens. Oberyn Martell led his escort, which was less welcoming, but the man stuck to polite topics of conversation.

There were children playing in the gardens, amid and sometimes (being children) in the ponds. Prince Doran sat in a wicker chair on one of the terraces, looking out over a broad pond with two fountains in the centre. Each of the fountains was built into a statue, one a man and the other a woman. The man's left hand was outstretched and clasped the right hand of woman.

"Maron Martell," Oberyn informed Jon quietly. "And his bride Daenerys Targaryen."

"Their marriage ended centuries of conflict between Martells and Targaryens," Jon remembered outloud and he saw Oberyn's eye twitch as the guarded reminder of blood ties between those houses was parried with a reminder of the even older bloodshed between them.

"Prince Jon, greetings." Doran rose to greet them. "Brother, thank you for escorting our guest."

The younger brother bowed slightly and took a place behind Doran's chair as the prince sat himself.

"I understand that Mace Tyrell has cause to regret not accepting your King's first offer of reconciliation."

Jon bowed his head slightly. That had been well done, he thought.

"Should I assume that if you are sent back to King's Landing without my submission that the next offer I receive will have similarly stringent terms? Claim Wyl for your King, perhaps?"

"Rather than territorial concessions, my understanding is that Robert has considered that you might show good faith by letting him arrange your brother's marriage. Since the Westerlands cost Dorne one daughter, you might say."

"You - !"

Doran cut off his brother with an upraised hand. "I would hope my word would be sufficient sign of good faith."

Jon smiled blandly.

After a moment the Dornishmen relaxed. "I think a Lannister-Martell marriage is not what the realm needs. What it does need, after King Aerys... eccentricities... is a just King." Doran leant forwards. "The Starks demanded justice and received it. If we can receive the same then King Robert can expect my submission."

"Justice, yes. Revenge, on the other hand, is not something a King can gift."

"Well said." Doran clapped his hands once. "Well said. I imagine that you will need to communicate with your King on this matter. However, in the meantime I must enquire in my capacity as Prince of Dorne regarding the stability of the new dynasty."

"You have concerns?" asked Jon cautiously.

"Long term concerns, shall we say?"

"Ah. Marriage."

"Indeed. Robert has two brothers of course, but none of them are wed and only Robert is known to have sired children... although not as enthusiastically as my brother I must confess. While having brothers is well, one must give thought to the next generation."

Jon nodded. "Quite correct. Renly is perhaps a little young to think too far ahead as yet, around your own daughter's age although perhaps such a marriage would not be judicious."

"Royal marriages haven't always been fortunate of late."

"Indeed they have not. And Robert has indicated he would know the circumstances of Lyanna Stark before deciding upon his marriage."

"One hopes for the best for her, but with no news for long..."

Jon saw Oberyn's smirk at Doran's words and felt his temper rise. "It is said by some that Prince Rhaegar brought her to Dorne."

"Is it?" Doran closed his fingers around the arms of his chair. "Look into that, Oberyn. Your affinity for finding women may have some use at last."

"Not only women, my prince." Oberyn sauntered out insouciantly.

"We can be hot-tempered here in Dorne," Doran said half-apologetically. "The climate perhaps. And you did not mention Prince Stannis' prospects. Perhaps he will be seeking a Lannister marriage? Hoster Tully has no more daughters to promote the interests, I gather."

"That could be possible, although I have several nieces of my own." Which wasn't a bad idea, Jon thought. He'd been wed before after all, and if Lysa was no better fortuned then having the King's brother as regent to a grand-nephew would be a strong assurance for the future.