29

Summary:

Perspectives from Stannis, Ned, Cat, and Jaime.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay but I've found that I have not been particularly inspired to write recently. Most of my motivation comes from reading other fics in the fandom and I just haven't found many to my taste recently.

Edits: Random spelling and grammar mistakes across some chapters.

Notice: If you need to re-familiarize yourself with the OCs or any of the other background details of this story, there is now an appendix for helpful reference. The only spoilers are some far off pairings.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Stannis:

The letter sat before him on the massive painted table, it rested between Ramsgate and Oldcastle in the North.

Robert was in the North, surely feasting and whoring from the seat of his 'brother.' If Robert had even a modicum of sense in his head then it would be easier for Stannis to do his duty as a brother, not that Robert viewed Stannis as much of a sibling. Time after time Robert wronged him and yet here Stannis was trying to build a base to save his brother. Beyond his elder sibling's act of granting him and Renly positions on the small council, which in truth was Jon Arryn's idea, Stannis was the only brother with any sense of familial duty.

His brother's decision to head North and name Eddard as Hand of the King had been an insult and forced Stannis to return to Dragonstone. He didn't have the men in the capital, nor was he safe from poison. There were too many enemies in the Red Keep, Varys must have known, he always knew too much, and Littlefinger was as slimy as they come, and the maester, Pycelle, must have been the one to tip off the queen. The lions had filled too much of the keep with their men and the city guard only followed shiny coins the color of their cloaks. As Hand, Stannis might have had the power to protect his brother but he was robbed of this. Being forced from King's Landing cost Stannis the evidence they'd collected as well, the tome, the boy and the babe.

Jon Arryn's death proved to be a great loss, and so he lost the chance to convince Robert. Now that Stannis was the sole investigator, he'd appear ambitious, the truth made him the heir to the throne. It was doubtful that Robert would believe him, even if the man was as fond of his wife as Stannis was his own, his brother was too in debt to the Westerlands and relied too heavily on their gold for his easy pleasures.

To make matters worse, Robert had pulled the woman and her bastards from heading west and took the Lannister woman with him to Winterfell. The king likely sought to betroth Joffrey to the eldest Stark girl for the purpose of uniting their houses, but Joffrey was a Waters rather than a Baratheon. Stannis held a certain respect for Eddard Stark but if the lord of the North's daughter was to be queen, who was to say that he wouldn't pledge to the boy he believed to be Robert's son over Stannis. The man was quick to accuse for sins and likely as not to accuse Stannis.

Never more had Stannis cursed his brother's so-called gift more, he had little but the command of a small fleet and few lesser lords. Once upon a time having the Velaryons' allegiance might have shifted the tides of a war but Monford was no Corlys and the house had since greatly waned since the time of the Sea Snake and even more under Robert's rule.

It was only a matter of time until Robert was killed and Stannis might have been able to save him if his sibling wasn't so likely to reject his aid. Stannis' duty to protect family could only be extended so far before he endangers House Baratheon as a whole. That left the Master of Ships to take the royal fleet and begin preparations to face the Westerlands in force.

He focused on the letter once more. How many had claimed to know some method of curing his daughter? How many had claimed capable of purifying her? How many had scurried off with his gold and left Shireen after failing? But this time gold was not the price but obsidian, a useless stone only used in decoration and of little value.

Stannis had given up the idea that his child may one day be free of the stone-like grey scales that marred half her face. The urgency to see her cured had been recently renewed, Shireen was third in line to the throne and to possibly be the queen one day. Across the bay she suffered enough reticule from the high courts and if he could spare her that pain then he would. If he acted quick he could have her back before she became in danger of being used against him. It was a risk but one with acceptably low odds of complete failure. Lord Stark wouldn't see her hurt, that was one certainty Stannis had.

When Maester Cressen hobbled into the chambers weak from the stairs and favoring his cane greatly, Stannis let the aged man read the offer. Cressen had a tendency to offer his counsel without being sought, and more often than not Stannis did not seek him as the man needed every minute of rest he could get, it was the reason Pylos had been sent from the Citadel. "My lord, do you plan on accepting?"

"Do you believe in the authenticity of the procedure?"

The near eighty year old man read over the missive once more. "I am skeptical that such a book might have escaped the notice of the Citadel but there is no better place for it to have been lost than at the edge of the world. If true and the procedure works then how many lives have been lost needlessly while the cure sat hidden on a shelf rotting."

His eyes traveled to the uppermost edge of the map, the only flat side, to the Wall. Selyse's witch had spoken of great threats coming from the lands of winter, it was nonsense but what secrets might have been preserved in the cold so far north. "And you believe the Ironborn of old knew this?"

"Hmm… I am inclined to. The Iron Islands have a very similar climate to Dragonstone and both suffer higher rates of greyscale, if anywhere were to develop a cure it would be here or there. Though the fact that the Ironborn have forgotten this process makes me cautious." The maester offered little that Stannis hadn't already thought of.

During the siege of Old Wyk, Stannis had stepped foot on the dreary island and had to concede to the comparison. "And what of the obsidian, is it overpaying?"

Cressen scratched his chin. "That depends on how much you value your daughter, my lord."

Even before Shireen became the future of House Baratheon, she was paramount to him. "My daughter's worth is unquantifiable but no deal should be made without negotiation. Are there any hidden properties of obsidian that I should know about?"

"Even turned to stone, the flames of the Lord of Light offer many of his gifts." Like a scarlet wraith, the red priestess swept up to them in billowing robes the color of fresh blood. 

Stannis cared not for the woman but if she could make some sense of the Starks' strange desire for large quantities of a fragile decorative stone then she could be of use. "Go on."

She was exceptionally tall for a woman and her unnatural red gaze stared down at Maester Cressen. "The Valyrians made obsidian rods from the stone to see that which their eyes cannot, to speak where their voices cannot reach."

"The priestess speaks of glass candles but they lie dormant, that is if they ever have been alight." The older man thinly veiled his dislike of the witch.

Melisandre ignored the disbelief and skepticism in the maester's tone. "For a hundred years they have been without light, but the time comes my lord. As you will wake dragons from stone so too shall you bring the candles to flame. Let the North mine the frozen fire and spread it across their land. R'hllor will show them your victory, your light, the Lord's light. The North will be Azor Ahai's first ally and among the first to face the true enemy." The woman had spoken to him many times about similar madness. She referred to him as a promised prince before he'd even shared his and Jon Arryn's discovery among his council.

He would admit he needed allies, it was part of the reason Stannis returned to Dragonstone. Had he been able to foster the Arryn boy then he may have had the support of the Vale but the manic lady of the Eyrie had nested in her castle with her son and would remain that way. If he could get the North and thus the Riverlands to add their might to that of the Stormlands, he may not need to resort to sellswords from the east. "The North can mine the obsidian."

When the red woman smiled, he regretted that he seemingly accepted her counsel. "A wise decision, My Prince. I believe they will be successful in purging the darkness from your daughter, the timing is a sign, the Lord of Light is blessing you before the whispers of war."

"Enough of this talk. Both of you may go. Send for my daughter and Davos on your way out." Stannis turned away from them and his gaze fell back on Winterfell as it was painted on the map. He had much to muse on while waiting for Shireen.

As much as he disliked letting anyone on the island, Stannis would not spare his men and ships to mine and transport stone, the Northmen would need to provide their own. Other than obsidian, he doubted that they would find anything of value but it would be best to add such a clause to the terms. It had been a great annoyance to both Robert and Stannis that they failed to discover any dragon eggs or access the vaults when he had conquered the island. Even with the drops of Targaryen blood mixed in Stannis' own and the witch's efforts they'd failed to open the egg chamber and the vault containing the crowns of all the kings who knelt before Aegon the First.

It wasn't long before a soft voice broke him from his thoughts. "Father?" His poor girl with the cracky stone patch from cheek to neck, she might soon be relieved of that burden. Shireen was far too timid for Stannis' liking but she was young and without her affliction she may grow slightly bolder, the gods knew his brothers were bold enough but she needed confidence as his heir. In the meantime Shireen could be soft for a few more years, the girl had suffered enough.

"My daughter." He stepped out of the way and motioned for her to take his place. "What do you see?"

"The North." While Shireen might lack the sterner aspects of the queen she would one day need to become, the girl thankfully had inherited Stannis' wisdom.

Stannis pointed at the gullet of the White Knife river, from the angle and distance he doubted she could read the labels. "And there?"

Once again she was swift to answer. "White Harbor. Ser Davos tells me it is the largest city in the North. Its buildings are made of white stone."

"Yes, it is the only true city of the North and its buildings are whitewashed." Next he guided her gaze to the capital of the North. "Now what is that castle?"

She pushed onto her tiptoes for a better look but Shireen already knew what it was. "That must be Winterfell, the home of House Stark. The king is there, isn't he?"

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Correct." This was his last attempt to cure his daughter, Stannis couldn't afford to send his daughter away again if this failed, he didn't wish to. "The Starks have made me an offer. They claim to have rediscovered a cure to greyscale. You will be traveling to Winterfell with Ser Davos for the procedure."

"Will I see snow? I read they have snow even in summer." Shireen had a girlish look, one befitting her age, it made Stannis' heart ache.

"You may. It will be cold, colder than you are used to." He hated to scare her but she was a stag and the girl deserved to know and make the choice. "Lord Stark warns the process to get rid of the disease may be painful though he assured me you would be in a deep sleep. Do you still wish to go?"

Hesitantly, his daughter nodded, a show of Baratheon bravery. "I think so. Will Patches be coming with us?"

The fool, Patchface was one of her few friends, that is if the motley faced man had enough sense to even understand the concept of friendship. It had only been because of his daughter's fondness for the fool and the fact that the man was the only surviving thing from his parents' ship that Stannis kept the man employed. "No, he will not. You will be undergoing a quarantine period with the healer that does the procedure and I will not force the Starks to endure the man."

It would do her some good to be away from the strange fool, the Starks had children Shireen's age, maybe she could strike up a friendship. A marriage between the middle boy and Shireen might even be ideal. "Will the king be there?"

"Doubtful." Robert would grow bored of the North quickly, the novelty of Eddard Stark would be the only thing he liked and if Stannis predicted correctly then Robert's 'brother' would be returning south with him. "Robert should already be there, and by the time you arrive he will likely be gone. That is no loss in my opinion."

Robert and Renly had little care for their niece, the elder likely forgot she existed and the younger had no problems insulting the girl to Stannis' face. Stannis looked forward to the day his vain little brother kneels before her.

Eddard:

It was just as they stopped for their midday meal that a rider had been brought forth before Robert, the lad looked worn. After the guards passed over the missive, they and the rider were dismissed.

"One of the Spider's. Curse your luck Ned, not even in the damnable city and we have to work." The Baratheon let out a hollow chuckle. "Come, the camp has too many ears." Without warning Robert kicked his horse and made his way to the front of the procession and splintered off from the kingsroad, his guards shadowed him.

Ned sighed as he commanded his warhorse forward through the dense thickets of trees half as soggy and soft as the earth. The humid air and relative heat of the Neck compared to Winterfell wasn't the most pleasant, not even out of the North and he was sweating. They were in the last leagues of the swampland and over the journey he'd seen more than a few knights and their horses misstep and fall into the quag. In some areas of the fen it was nearly impossible to differentiate the winding waters from the soft land; so filled were the waters with grasses and pads, the only way Ned could tell the difference was the presence of lilies.

Atop his massive destrier the king drove onward with men before him carefully navigating an open clearing in the bog. Robert didn't offer Ned much of an opportunity to catch up but the Lord of Winterfell seemed to have a better sense of the land than the mounted knights. A far distance away from the main party, the once powerful man demanded space and passed the letter to Ned when the two white cloaks and the other guards were out of earshot. "Good gods, it feels good to be away from everyone, especially that bloody woman. I swear if that wheelhouse of hers gets stuck in the mud one more time I might take my hammer to it or just leave it and Cersei here, but the blasted woman is the mother to my children."

Ned ran a hand over the seal of the message while biting his tongue to resist spilling a secret that would damn them all to war. "The Neck has one moving castle, Howland might welcome another."

Robert snorted. "With how often the bloody thing needs repaired, it might as well have cost me the price of a castle. How is your crannogman?"

"He is well to my knowledge. Howland's daughter is of age with Robb and Jon, his son slightly younger than Sansa." Ned wished he could have had the chance to speak with the man but ravens cannot find the moving keep any easier than a man could; one doesn't simply find the Reeds, the crannogmen seek out who they wish.

"Is that the match you planned for your daughter?" The slightly older man's tone was a pinch bitter.

Shaking his head, he put an end to that notion. "No, Sansa will marry whoever she chooses of a man with good standing and my approval."

The king hummed deeply. "Myrcella seemed pleased with the betrothal and the fostering. She was put out that she couldn't stay, the girl liked your home."

"I'm sure she would make a fine lady of Winterfell." Recalling Sansa's concerns, he picked his next words carefully. "I have some concerns about the girl, not about the match, it just seems to me that she fears your eldest."

Before Robert thought through his words, the king let out a curse. "Damn brat."

With his brows furrowed, Ned looked coolly at his brother in all but blood. "What do you mean by that, Robert?"

The man ran a huge fat hand over his red meaty face and groaned. "Joffrey, he- he can be troublesome." At Ned's imploring gaze, Robert reluctantly elaborated. "The boy once killed Tommen's pet fawn. On another occasion, the little shit cut the belly of a pregnant cat and proudly showed me one of the kittens." Robert paused and avoided Ned's gaze. "…There is something wrong with him, Ned."

It hurt Ned to realize that Robert knew, he grit his teeth. "Gods Robert. And you'd have had me marry my daughter to the lad."

"I thought a wife might have calmed him, settled him some. Ned, I promise you I meant no harm, I would have been the first to slap the boy if he hurt your girl." The king's fists were clenched on the reins.

While Ned was sure he didn't display it, internally he was horrified at Robert's casual threat to hurt a boy he believed was his own. "Robert, perhaps Tommen should be fostered as well. I hear the eldest Tyrell lad has a similar interest in animals as young Tommen."

Robert had agreed at first but stopped his nod at the mention of the Tyrells. "I'm not sending a son of mine to foster in the castle of the man that starved my brothers for a damn year. Cersei would never let me anyway, if the boy went anywhere it would be to Casterly Rock and I'll be damned before I give the rich bastard my boy. It is bad enough that all three of them look like Lannisters, I don't need any acting like lions as well."

Sighing Ned, looked down to the letter still in his hand. He didn't know what else he could do for the boy at the moment. "At least try to protect the boy more."

"Fine. Let's get on with it then." The king waved a dismissive hand signaling the end of the topic. "Read the bloody thing, I could use some meat and a drink." 

Ever dutiful, Ned did so, cracking the wax seal. He felt himself gulp at the information on the parchment, it was nothing he didn't know but it still sat wrong in his chest. "Viserys Targaryen has wed his sister to a Dothraki horselord."

A conspicuous sound escaped Robert's blubbery throat, it was a strange cross between a roar of laughter and a thunderous growl. "Monsters mating with monsters. Did the dragonspawn fuck her first? I wouldn't put it past the Mad King's heir."

"It doesn't say, but her husband is said to command a hoard of forty thousand."

"More reason to see her dead quickly."

He knew Robert's hatred of Targaryens well, Ned had feared it for years and sheltered Jon from it but it still sickened him. "Robert, the girl is barely older than my daughter. You cannot seriously be considering having her killed. She is wed to a savage, do you not think that is punishment enough?"

Blue eyes sparkled like lightning as they glared at the newly appointed Hand. "How long do you think it'll take the horsefucker to rape another dragon into her belly? Rhaegar raped your sister, now his sister is being repaid the favor, if the gods are any good they won't give her a child just as they spared Lyanna. Another mad Targaryen with the morals of a Dothraki, it would be worse than Aerys if the girl's halfbreed lands on my shores."

"And you think that any lords would follow the Targaryens if they bring Dothraki to Westeros? They would only do so if you have made their lives worse than it would be under Viserys Targaryen." It was an accusation. Alsauna and Laerra had wanted Ned to lessen the punishments that the king had imposed on the loyalist houses; they'd listed many things for him to do to prepare the North and Riverlands for the wars to come.

Robert was fuming at him. "What would you have me do then? They needed to be brought low and the girl needs to die, Ned."

"It has been nearly fifteen years, Robert, They have suffered enough, Lord Raymun lost three brothers at the Trident, he lost." If the loss of family hadn't made the Darrys resentful of the Baratheons then Ned thought that the new king taking half their land and nearly all their coffers would.

The glare Robert leveled him with was piercing. "A damn Darry is the reason we are in this mess. William fucking Darry. Now I have to deal with Dothraki and dragonspawn."

"Dothraki fear the sea but if you enrage them enough then one may be brave enough to try and cross." It was a warning that Ned hoped Robert would heed.

"I should have killed the bitch and her brother when they were beggars but the thought of it was too good. I can't just wait while the dragonspawn plot to overthrow me. We could stop a war here and now. This is our war damnit, we can't let our sons fight it, let these savages rape our daughters." At the end there, Robert sounded so much like the noble young man he was during the rebellion, the charismatic man that made enemies into allies.

Ned almost fell into step with the thought just from nostalgia but resisted. "If it is between war now and war later, I say we chose later. With time we can prepare. The Dothraki have never sailed, they'd be vulnerable at sea. I'm sure the Free Cities would sell out the Dothraki if we can get rid of them. In time I could have Lord Manderly build a fleet for the North."

Suddenly the Baratheon punched his own thigh, making his horse protest and nearly rear Robert off of its back.

"Don't!" The thought was prominent in Ned's head as he reached a hand out to calm the black stallion. It was by luck that the destrier was of the same mind and ended its reaction before the king was thrown from the horse.

"Damn beast," Robert grumbled. It took a moment for the heavy set man to settle himself and motion the guards away again. "What was it you said?"

Repeating his words on the merits of waiting for the possible war with the Targaryens, Ned made sure to mention the possibility of a Northern fleet again. Having a fleet separate from the crown was imperative.

Nodding, Robert growled but reluctantly agreed. "I see your point. A Northern fleet would be bloody welcome, another fleet to keep the squids in check would be good. Shame you didn't have one back then or during the rebellion, we could have taken Dragonstone much earlier or challenged Redwyne's blockade."

It was a mistake then, and Ned wouldn't make it again. The North had been unprepared as had the Riverlands, both had been stuck recovering from the initial blows that they never had the chance to properly go on the offense until Robert joined in. "I have your consent to have Wyman begin construction then?"

"If my daughter is to be the lady of Winterfell then she better be safe and a fleet can keep her protected. See your ships made."

Ned looked to the North wondering if it was too much to push for more but decided Robert was unlikely to suspect him of foul play. "Robert, you've seen the state of Moat Cailin twice now. Now that there is the possibility of Dothraki on the shores of Westeros, regardless of our action, I ask your permission to restore the keep?"

Snorting, Robert sent him an amused look. "Why the hell do you need my permission, it is your keep and in your land?"

"It is the gate to the North, repairing it can be seen as preparation for war against the South as was its purpose." Traveling through the Neck once more only made Ned marvel even more at the potential strength of a fully repaired Moat Cailin. His grandson must have had a formidable keep. 

The king only waved off Ned's concerns and laughed. "Well it is preparation for war but against the Targaryens. It's your good-family to the south anyway! Anyone who thinks you plan on rebelling could use a damn hit on their empty head."

Well assured of Robert's permission, Ned bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Robert. It'll give me peace of mind knowing that my people and family will be safer should things come to war."

"With a Northern fleet and the moat manned and repaired, your people should be fine. If the Targaryens and the Dothraki are stupid enough to board a boat they will be crushed at sea as you said. But Gods, I almost wish I could see those horse-fucking savages try and attack Moat Cailin, it'd be a massacre, the dragons won't stand a chance." The bloodthirsty look worn by his best friends was not a good look any day but with Robert's weight it favored disgusting over disturbing.

Ned faced himself towards the north, in the direction of the moat and his family, yet he was riding in the other direction. "Hopefully it doesn't come to battle, who knows how many will die. And the smallfolk will suffer for it."

Robert put a heavy hand on Ned's shoulder. "I missed this Ned, you and me against the Targaryens. If only Jon were still here with us. What I would give to do it all again, I'd get to kill him again and we might have been able to save her."

"We might have…but there is no sense dwelling on what we could have done. We must think about the present and future now." It was hypocritical he knew, Ned had his own share of regrets. He never stopped wondering what would have happened if he had never suggested the betrothal for Lyanna, if he had stood up for her, if he had parlayed with Rhaegar at the Trident.

"I'll let the girl live but I don't like this marriage. There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. Do you forget how many houses fought for Targaryen in the war? They bide their time for now, but give them half a chance, they will murder me in my bed, and my sons with me. If the beggar king crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the traitors will join him."

Turning his horse to begin the ride back, Ned gave his last assurance. "Let them try. We know whose swords will be aimed at our back. You've already crippled the Darrys and Velaryons, but they needn't be enemies. If you let them thrive again then they will think twice before joining a girl allied with savages. The Tyrells will wait it out on the fence, no better than Walder Frey. Viserys' claim shall end at sea with the Dothraki if he attacks."

"This is why I choose you as Hand, Ned. Without you I would have sent the girl a dagger, you always were the calm one."

Not even a few days later Ned was supping with Robert, Cersei Lannister and her family in the Riverlands when Jory approached him awkwardly. While the man had been quite peeved by his lord withholding the truth of his father's survival from him, the Cassel had remained loyal, interrupting a royal supper was what unnerved the guard. "Pardon me Your Grace, my lord. A rider arrived for you, Lord Stark."

Another rider. Messengers carried words too dangerous and urgent to be entrusted to the dark wings of ravens. Jory was anything but subtle, with Martyn at his side there was no way that Jory would make such a mistake.Then again any word for him would have to be sent by rider, a bird could find their party no easier than it could find Greywater Watch. Everything only made Ned more intrigued by the message. A worrying thought crossed him that maybe the assassination attempt on Bran happened regardless of all that they'd changed.

Ned turned to Robert, who had already downed at least two cups of wine, as not even the Hand could get out of the king's company without said man's approval. "May I be dismissed, Your Grace?"

The shrewd distrusting eyes of the queen sparkled with a hidden malice. "I see no reason why you cannot receive the messenger here. Unless… you seek to keep things from the king? And we wouldn't want to take you from your meal."

His heart skipped a beat. Could this be the end of things? Were all his lies to come crumbling down like a tower stuck by a trebuchet? Ned gulped but tried to keep his face passive.

Grumbling at the discourse between his best friend and wife, Robert scowled into his drink. "Ned wouldn't keep things from me, woman, I won't have you imply anything different." Little did the Baratheon know of all that Ned had kept from him, it was painful to break such trust. "But… we wouldn't want the meat to get cold, would we." It struck the Lord of Winterfell that the king had betrayed him just so the man wouldn't be stuck with the Lannisters.

Attempting to calm his racing heart and act as if nothing was amiss, Ned looked to his captain of guard and nodded. "Jory, bring them in."

"Right away, my lord." If Ned didn't imagine it in his panic then the Cassel had given him a reassuring yet vengeful grin before turning and following the command. Jory wouldn't betray him, no, Ned couldn't believe that was the case.

As they waited, no one spoke. The Lannister woman analyzed his every movement as she ate dainty bites. Ned himself had lost his hunger but forced himself to eat the suddenly tasteless venison. While the crown prince seemed to take a disturbing amount of interest in the message, so too did the younger siblings who whispered speculation on what might be said. Ser Jaime, the kingsl-, remained as distanced and estranged as he had been since Brynnard's fake prophecy.

When Jory finally returned with the rider, Ned only fell deeper into internal turmoil. The messenger was one he recognized as the man was one of Winterfell's own. He did not expect to hear any good news from the tired messenger.

"It is alright that you share your words before us, is it not? They are not only for Lord Eddard's ears, are they?" The queen sounded so gentle in her backhanded accusation.

The man flushed red, and shook his head. He was a man not many years older than Theon, young and easily flustered by the power and grace of a woman like Cersei Lannister. "Th- my lady didn't specify." Dark eyes looked at their lord, hesitantly.

While the words came as a relief, the look put Ned at unease. Every hint at catastrophe weighed twice as much as every suggestion of reprieve. Regardless, the missive weight in his stomach was crippling. "Say what you must. Let us not waste more of His Grace's time."

Gulping, the messenger bowed to Robert and his 'family.' "Pardon, You Graces." Then the lad turned to Ned and did his duty. "You must believe me, my lord, but a sennight after your departure Dayne riders approached Winterfell. My lord, Lady Ashara Dayne lives, she…"

Ned didn't hear what else was said, his breath was stolen from him in both solace and surprise. He melted into his chair with his eyes closed and a hand over his face. Gods, that great ugly black pit of guilt dispersed. It was shameful to say but Eddard couldn't tell if he was more relieved by Ashara's survival or that his lies were still hidden. Clutching his chest, Ned opened his eyes to the dusky sky, the light of stars just barely breaching the blanket of the sundown.

He could hardly believe the news, neither could the rest of the table. Jaime Lannister seemed the most shaken. The man's twin tried to hide her disappointed sneer behind her wine. Their children bickered excitedly over the revelation, at least Myrcella and Tommen did, to them it was some great story.

A heavy pat hit the warden's back, like a bear mauling its prey. "What will you do, Ned?" Robert looked to have sobered some, enough to show deep concern in his blue eyes.

"I trust Catelyn to handle it well." The messenger was already gone so Ned knew little else that was said. 

"And your bastard?" Robert's question was in line with much of Catelyn's old thoughts.

Sighing, Ned took deep breaths. "Jon will make no attempt to claim Winterfell for himself." Not even when Bran and Rickon were believed dead, he'd been willing to fight for Sansa and Arya's claim. "He can make his choices but usurping Winterfell from my children is a choice he will not make."

"He seemed a good lad, just like your other boys, your girls too." The king nodded in agreement before he chanced a glance out of the corner of his eyes at the true bastard, Joffrey. Robert swirled his cup of wine with a frown before he snorted loudly. He lifted the mug to Ned. "To the pretty lady living."

Ned raised his own cup. "To Ashara living." He bumped his friend's drink with his own and took a sip to quell the persisting stress from earlier.

When in bed that night he finally came to the realization that his grandchildren were using Ned's own trusted personnel behind his back to enact their plots. They had neglected to mention Ashara to him all this time just so they could make a show of catching him off guard. Ned himself was being used as an unaware pawn in this case. The revelation sat bitterly on his tongue, and it lingered in the cracks in his hearts as well as the tight spaces between his teeth.

Catelyn:

Even a few days after the departure, Sansa had been particularly cheerless, the same could be said of Margaery Tyrell. Most of the keep or rather the large extended family that made up a good portion of the castle population were also depressed. The girls and the grandchildren were a sad sight, it was like half of Winterfell disappeared and the rest had died in spirit.

A fortnight passing had not alleviated Cat's own longings for her husband. Every night in their bed she felt his absence, Ned warded off the North's chilly air in ways the castle could never. This time when he left for the South he did not leave her with a babe in her belly.

It wasn't just the loss of her husband that pained her, but two of her sons as well. She wouldn't see Robb and Bran for moons. Cat wouldn't get to celebrate Bran's eighth nameday or Robb turning fifteen. She would even dare to say she missed looking out a window and seeing Bran climbing some tower. It wasn't that Catelyn had never gone without her children for a time, Ned often took the boys on short trips and had taken Arya to White Harbor before. This was different; her boys were off into a land where their titles meant nothing, their names were not a shield but a target and the true kings of the region were gods of death and darkness.

Ned was hardly in safer conditions. A lone wolf in a pit of lions, spiders, snakes and other unsavory things. He had no allies but Jory, Martyn and his guards. But she would see him again, she only had to be patient.

Pushing away her worries, Cat returned her thoughts to another subject that had plagued her over the afternoon. She spent much of the morning searching for Rickon and his direwolf, both of whom had been indoctrinated by Aerea into sowing trouble, the youngest Targaryen seemed to have a special influence on the wild black wolf. Catelyn's eldest granddaughter put it down to her sister being Rickon's favorite niece. The poor girl had been acting out more without her father and many siblings around, they'd already had to add nine more rules when it came to her mischief.

In her search Cat had stumbled across two roses in the Godswood, a winter rose and the golden rose. Sansa and Margaery had been snuggled up together under a shared cloak with their feet in the pool. Cat had thought it sweet that they were comforting each other and becoming close friends but then they had kissed, on the lips.

Her first instinct was to march over and end the Tyrell's corrosive influence but forced herself to let the two be. The event had weighed heavy on her mind ever since and Cat couldn't decide what to make of it. She had known since that fateful day months prior that Sansa would interact with her wives, and they were Sansa's wives to be, but so far Cat had kept it out of mind. She didn't wish to protest, it would only cause problems for the relationship, but all of it looked wrong to her. Shoving the unholy topic down, Cat thought she might need to hear Daena's thoughts, the girl's philosophies were usually sensible and more moral than the preachings of the Seven.

Arya was holding up far better than her sister, Cat put that down to the girl drowning herself in the art of swordplay. One of the few amusements still in Winterfell was Arya's scowl as she gracefully danced. If Catelyn had known all it took to convince the girl to actually try at a womanly pursuit was to say it would improve her ability with a blade then she might have conceded years ago. In the absence of Arya's daughter, Alsauna took to training the young girl when she wasn't the one hearing petitions, on those days it was up to Myriah who was trying to teach Arya the acrobatics that Oberyn Martell had displayed while at Winterfell.

The thought of Cassana brought up the woman's mission and Cat's family. Lysa's actions, both past, present and future, pained her. It was hard for Catelyn to sever the familial bond no matter how estranged they were, but seeing her sister's lies, Petyr's lies, written in Lysa's hand and their secret language was a desecration of something sacred. Lysa had become problematic, or rather she always was, but it became personal when her lies got Ned hurt and sparked a war that had taken Cat and her eldest. She hadn't forgotten that her sister tried to kill Sansa either. No, Lysa was to be cut loose with only Baelish as her ally, that was the result of betraying the words of House Tully.

Unlike her sister, Catelyn's uncle had proved himself beyond measure in the children's future. The Blackfish was too valuable to be in Lysa's service any longer, Arya's warrior daughter would deliver Cat's message. Black fish or silver, Brynden is still a child of the Riverlands and that is where he is needed. 

Sighing, Catelyn focused on the letter before her. It seemed Mira Forrester was speaking highly of Jaehaerys to her family, as her father now offered the girl to be the boy's bride. The man had made the offer once before but back then Cat had protested out of fear.

The Forresters, while a lesser house that answered to the Glovers, were still noble. Even if Jon Snow wouldn't inherit Ironrath, Ned would have named the boy as lord of some small insignificant holdfast near the Wolfswood and that would station him far too close to her children.

In hindsight she knew her fears were extreme, the odds of the boy rising from a lord of a small keep with a Forrester wife to usurping her children were extremely low. Even Daemon Blackfyre required the sword and a perceived weakness in his trueborn brother to be a threat. Then again had Petyr not proven how far craftiness can carry a man, and had Ramsey Bolton not shown the power of cruelty in the short term. In the end, her anxiety won and Ned never even told the boy. Jaehaerys, Jon, never knew the options he may have had because of her. In large part she was the reason he went to the wall. Jaehaerys never knew of all the offers, not the Forrester's, not the Whitehill's, not Vayon Poole's, not the Reed's, even as a bastard he could have had a noble wife. Wendel even confessed his father considered Jon for Wynafryd, had his ability as a skinchanger been more widely known they might have made an offer.

The thought of betrothals and matchmaking made Cat shuffle through her papers for her list, some of those listed had just been on her mind. The Manderly girls, the two Forrester sisters, Meera Reed, Alys Karstark, the Whitehill daughter and some Mormonts. She sent the ravens after the plan to go beyond the Wall was hatched. Even with the explicit mention of Robb, Bran and Jaehaerys' absences, Catelyn had no doubt some lords saw passed the partial-truth of getting daughters of the North together. The Starks needed allies and Robb needed a Northern bride, this gave her some time to see the candidates herself. Not all of the girls were potential suitors of course, some merely had other purposes such as helping to hide the truth.

Alys Karstark was a particular case, already being betrothed to Daryn Hornwood, but Cat was sure they could settle that issue if need be. The girl's father had been quick to reply and she could only hope the lord heeded her warning about crossing Bolton lands.

In regards to the Boltons, their trap has so far failed to produce results. Neither Roose or his bastard have been caught and Catelyn was beginning to fear that the two may live to see the new year. There was sadly nothing they could do but wait, Cat had learned her lesson about imprisoning without proper evidence from her previous life.

As unpleasant as thinking about the Boltons was, Cat's imminent talk with the Dayne woman was likely just as bad. It would be a two way interrogation and bound to be grueling.

Jaime:

Flexing his right hand had become a habit that Jaime cursed. It was the very hand that he'd clung to Cersei's ankle with when they were born. More than once he has caught himself tying his scabbard on his right and on occasion he forgot he still had the limb. He was going mad.

It had been over two months since he tasted the weirwood sap and experienced the visions it gave him, two moons of madness. His nights were often sleepless, or so it felt. Half his dreams his hand was absent and all that was left in its place was a stump or worse the golden mockery. The other half were glimpses that the sap showed him or forgotten memories and voices of the dead.

"I leave my family in your charge, Ser Jaime, protect them." That had been Prince Rhaegar's last command of the Lannister before Jaime had begged to join the march, before that final order was to remain in King's Landing.

"Never again!" His mother's furious tone had never been loud but the searing whisper had burned its place in Jaime's mind, only Cersei's touch had made him forget it. "It will only bring you pain."

He'd struggled to look at Cersei ever since that long forgotten moment resurfaced. Tommen and Myrcella were not a pain, at least not the way Joffrey was a chore to deal with, they'd all been a pain in the sense they stole too much of Cersei's time but those two were good. The truth was out there, Jon Arryn had been on the trail with Stannis, and the Stark boy, the odd one, possibly knew. Was the stress of their world collapsing not pain? Was Cersei's marriage not suffering? Would there not be pain when the truth spread across the realm? Their mother had been right and so Jaime had ignored his sister to the best of his ability even when she looked so beautiful and begged wantonly.

Jaime regretted not confiding with Tyrion while he had the chance but they headed opposite directions at Winterfell. He needed to make sense of everything but Jaime wasn't smart enough, he wasn't Tyrion. His brother could pick apart the prophecy and the visions, Tyrion could understand them. But Jaime needed more, he couldn't put wishes and children together and get grumkin. He needed more information and for that he needed another weirwood.

It just so happened he was close to one, Harrenhall's godswood. The last time he'd been at Harrenhall, Jaime had been named to the Kingsguard to spite his father by Aerys Targaryen and sent off to the Red Keep without getting to celebrate or join the lists. Jaime had arrived at the massive castle as a knight and left as leverage. He hoped the broken castle could cure him as well as it cursed him all those years ago.

In the cover of the predawn shadows, Jaime rode away from Darry, away from his duty. His absence would be noted, Jaime would be missing for at least five days.

Even with the good weather, he saw the great towers of Harrenhall in the late afternoon of his third day of travel and it took until evening to reach those towers. Being a Kingsguard had earned him entrance to the keep and a room but not a kind welcome.

Lady Shella Whent was an old crone, a cooky one at that, but she hadn't forgotten that Jaime served with her good-brother, just like she hadn't forgotten her courtesies. She offered all that was expected of her as well as backhanded barbs fashioned as polite conversation and even compliments.

That suited Jaime well enough, he didn't care for her or the room and food offered, but he did care for the damn ugly tree in her godswood. He didn't delay his visit to the godswood even if the ride had dirtied him and he felt the pangs of hunger eating at his innards, Jaime needed answers.

The godwoods of the grandest castle ever built was no less giant, nearly ten times larger than Winterfells, it was a forest in its own right. Pines and sentinels towered over him, the orange-gold sunbeams punctured the canopy to litter the dirt and duff with freckles of evening light. There was beauty to be seen but Jaime had only ever cared for one beautiful thing and he rejected her.

Deep in the woods, a terrible chalky face greeted him, shriveled with anger. Something in its red sap crusted eyes reminded Jaime of Aerys but perhaps it was due to memories of his first experience at the ruined castle. It was with no shame that he pierced one of the eyes with a finger to pull out a bead of fresh scarlet sap.

With the recollection of his previous experience, Jaime sat down with his back against the bone white trunk. On his finger the swipe of tree blood sat heavy. The sap was on the hand that Jaime thought he may be better off without, just like his dreams, but he couldn't bring himself to take a sword to it. Jaime couldn't completely sever his link to Cersei. Without further delay he brought the sap to mouth, the sweetness alight on his tongue before bitterness and death followed. Jaime just closed his eyes and waited as the flavor trickled down his throat.

Then there was an all encompassing blanket of darkness. Six pillars of white light were all that broke through the shadows and before them knelt a golden statue which only shined from the other's radiance. One of the bright figures moved forward placing a blade just as pale and blinding as its owner at the golden knight's shoulder.

Jaime understood what he saw this time, Ser Arthur and his own knighthood or rise to the Kingsguard. Something in the back of his mind nagged him that this was more.

Arthur's sword lingered at the glittering gorget before rising. It didn't travel to the other shoulder but raised over the Sword in the Morning's head. The Dayne's apparition shifted to the side and Jaime's double lowered its helm. It wasn't a knighting but an execution. The sword fell. 

A golden corpse laid in a pool of glossy scarlet but above was a seventh white knight just as bright as the others kneeling in the dead's place. The blade hadn't slew the Kingsguard but rested on its flat at the neck.

Before Jaime could make sense of the scene it all changed. The shining lights were replaced with the moon's glow. His eyes slowly adapted to the unpleasant sight of King's Landing. A green radiance cast the city in a sickening light. In the distance the Sept of Baelor was as absent as Jaime's hand. Closer was the weeping Tower of the Hand melting like a wax candle if the wax too could be aflame. At its base the tower's entrance exploded with flames from its bowels.

The smoke turned to incense and roars of flames turned to groans of 'yes.' His vision was still flooded with the twisted shade of green, Cersei's eyes. He was inside of her and it was the best and worst feeling he'd ever felt in months if not years but as she kissed by his ear he saw a corpse on the pedestal. Joffrey's corpse.

He stepped back and fell away from her, out of her, onto the floor as she stared down at him from above. There was blood between her legs and blood on the marble. 

His world twisted again when he blinked and he was back in the godswood but Prince Rhaegar stood before him observing the tree.

"You bloody idiot! Why in seven hells would you give this to me?" The harsh voice filled the clearing as a young woman stormed up to the prince shaking a blue garland in rage. Lyanna Stark. She was prettier than Jaime expected even as a girl of fourteen or so years.

Rhaegar turned with an expression of both moderate amusement and his ever present melancholy. He took back the crown of flowers gently. "Among other reasons, Elia thought you quite admirable."

The admission stunned the Stark just as much as Jaime. "Your wife wanted you to crown me?"

"They did, they believe you earned it, I agreed. In hindsight, I will admit I overestimated the intelligence of the crowd, not once has Elia been asked how she felt about this perceived slight. Oberyn, we had expected to be rash and that was part of the appeal. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision with my sire present, but the king can be easily stated." The prince's stared turned troubled as his gaze fell upon where Jaime sat.

Disbelief was clear on the girl's long face. "You crowned me as a prank?"

Turning over the crown of winter roses in his hands, the prince offered it back to the woman he would abscond with. "It is not so simple. That was but one of many contributing factors. My or rather our primary motive was to recognize your showing in the lists."

The prince's words made Jaime pause, he'd never heard of the Stark girl entering the tourney unless…

"I bested no one of skill." The girl had been the reason why Jaime had been accused of disloyalty from the start of his tenure as a knight of the Kingsguard. She was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. If Aerys had known…

Rhaegar smiled at the Stark's humility, admiration filling his dark eyes. "I was not speaking of your jousts, though that too was impressive. The ransom terms were truly commendable. Is justice not beautiful?" The man held out the ring of roses once more but was ignored again. "None deserved the crown more than you." Then man's violet gaze returned to the weirwood, by Jaime. "I believe we must praise the good, the truly good. You will not be recognized for the kindness you did, at least not by the realm, but you know what you did so be proud of it. Do not lose such heart, it has a magic not yet lost to the world."

Jaime's breath caught in his throat, as the words repeated in his mind. It had felt as if the speech was meant for him just as much as the girl. Was Rhaegar approving of Jaime's act of regicide? Would he have approved? All Aerys' mad ravings on his heir came to mind, the rumors, Rhaegar's promise of change when he left for the Trident. The prince would have understood…

He was broken out of his musings by the wolf girl taking a seat against the tree beside him, Rhaegar was gone. Her messy dark brown hair was thrown back as she stared at the red leaves above them. The blue crown was once again in her possession, cradled in her lap like a babe. "Gods, why couldn't he be more like Robert, it would be so much easier to not like him."

When he blinked again his eyelids struggled to open. Jaime looked around the clearing, Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark were gone, and the sky had turned pink. If Tyrion knew just how often Jaime was beginning to wish for his brother's mind, then it might start costing Jaime gold for advice.

This set of visions was just as directionless as the last. He'd ridden all his way here to settle himself and he'd gotten nowhere. Frustrated, he shut himself off from the world and tried once more to make sense of it all but came up empty.

"Grandfather?" A sweet voice pierced his racing mind. Opening his eyes, Jaime questioned if the visions were over or not. Before him was a girl, a bit younger than Tommen. Her striking upturned green eyes had such dark lashes they reminded him of a Princess Rhaenys' kitten. If it wasn't for the incorrect eye color and the single lock of gold hair among the silky black wavys then Jaime might have believed her to be the princess haunting his dream. Like Lyanna Stark, the girl had her own crown of flowers, golden dandelions.

"I'm not that old," Jaime protested. 

The girl pursed her lips to the side in skepticism. "You're very old."

Jaime recalled his reflection in the Winterfell godswood, he looked old then but that had been magic. It was a horrifying realization that made him feel around his face. He had a beard, he'd been too caught up in the visions to shave. He must appear a mess, no wonder Cersei had been so upset. 

"Dandelion?" The tanned girl held out one of the blooms from her clutch. "Flowers make people happier, Mama says so."

Awkwardly and so not to offend the girl for her kindness Jaime accepted the offer. "Thank you?"

She tilted her head, unsatisfied. "Are you still sad?"

Was he sad? Was that what he was? "I don't know."

"Do you need another flower?"

He gave the same answer as her last question. "I don't know."

Another dandelion was offered. "You don't know a lot. My kepa says Uncle knows nothing too. Muña says that Uncle Jae is smarter than Kepa though."

His mind echoed a single word. "Kepa?"

The girl nodded. "Papa. He has to give Mama flowers all the time. Do you have a favorite flower? I like dandelions and sunflowers."

"No, I don't have a favorite." Jaime had never taken the time to think about flowers, he'd been too busy in the yard and with Cersei.

This time his uncertainty was accepted by the child. "Mama, can't pick just one either."

He had no idea what to say of her misunderstanding.

"Are you a good knight or a bad knight? I met some bad knights a while ago. My brother says you are both." Her brother likely praised the Kingslayer's skill while condemning him like everyone else.

Jaime was struck by how her question seemed to strike the core of his problems. "...That is what I have been asking myself."

"Bad knights don't think they are bad." That was a surprising response from the girl, it was both ignorant and insightful.

The Mountain and Amory Lorch came to mind because of the girl's Dornish blood, Jaime couldn't believe those two couldn't see themselves as monsters. "Some do, that only makes them worse."

A deep frown appeared on her face. "Do you?"

His recent vision and Rhaegar's words repeated. "I… I don't know."

"Why don't you just be good then?"

He hadn't been good in fifteen years. "People hate me for the one good thing I ever did."

The girl gave him a blank look. "They sound stupid."

Despite and perhaps because of his previous frustration, Jaime barked a chuckle. "I guess they are."

Her smile was blinding even if some of her teeth were still growing in. "Will you help me pick more flowers? I want a second crown for Oz."

"Any flower?"

"Blue and yellow ones."

And so his first act of being good was helping pick flowers. His reward and overpicking had been a crown of his own and a bubbly 'Thank you, Ser Knight.' It was only later he realized it was dawn rather than dusk.

Notes:

I'll probably be speeding up the pace of the story a bit to make up for my dwindling motivation. Hopefully some more exciting events will get me more active. This one was pretty heavy with character thoughts and just setting some stuff up.

Catelyn's part in this chapter was admittedly bad but I want to move on from this one.

If anyone cares I posted a ASOIAF Hogwarts AU oneshot.

My next update will finally be another chapter of WHAFSOH. It should be done soon, 90% done with it.

The next chapter will finally be the long awaited Mya chapter. We'll get a look into the Vale and Cassana (Arya's daughter) finally shows up again.

Upcoming Chapter POV Order:

Mya I

Multi V

Realm I