Chapter 4

(Ned Stark's POV)

The sun blazed reddish white on the horizon, like the hottest part of a smith's fire. It lit the framing clouds with a spray of color, paint thrown carelessly on a canvas. Covered in tall, monotonously green grass, the hills seemed endless. On a nearby mound, a small figure flitted around the top of the mound, dancing like a fluttering insect. As the figure came nearer, it also became clearer. With mud brown hair and beard, with eyes as black as soot, Ethan Glover was the personification of the Glover's hereditary appearance.

"Ser Glover, how many more days?" I said, feeling my own restlessness.

"My Lord, just 3 hills ahead and you can start seeing the edge of the Red Mountains, it shouldn't take more than 2 days now, less if we ride at dawn." says the man

"Then we start riding the moment the morningstar comes out of the horizon." I said

"Is that really wise, My Lord?" a voice coming from behind me, I turn around to see the figure of William Dustin, thick black eyebrows with a narrow forehead, deep scars gracing both the sides of his face, with even deeper eyes, William really was figure of terror of all squires in Barrowton.

"We have to, my Lord, they have my sister."

"But the beasts are tired, we have ridden till dusk, and the supplies run low as well."

"Did you not hear me? They have MY SISTER." I said, not realizing that I was screaming by the end. "I'm sorry for my temper, my Lord, I don't know what possessed me."

Sighing, William says - "Love it was that made your voice hot. It is alright, my Lord, we shall ride at morningstar."

"Thank you." I said, laying down on the camp flooring, I think of all that happened at Starfall yesterday.

We had broken the siege from Storm's End a week ago, and the horses were getting tired of running from dawn till dusk, so Lord Dustin recommended we detour to Starfall, for fresh horses, supplies and a bed. All of us agreed, for it was not far from our earlier path.

When we reached Starfall, we were surprised to see a maid be the one to greet us, I know that Lady Ashara hasn't been on the best of terms with me, especially after the betrothal of first Brandon, and then me, with Cat, so when the maid came with the offer to join Lady Ashara in the keep it was all too strange. When we entered the chambers and started hearing womanly screams, the earlier invitation becomes all to clear - Ashara was heavy with child, and by the sounds of it, the delivery was not smooth.

As the screams continue on, all us men sat by the fire in the study and waited for the news. I sat with a light heart, my brother's and Ashara's love was known from the Last Hearth to the Salt Shores. It didn't miss the attention of even Benjen, who was never one for observations, when both of them were missing for several hours on that cursed day of the Tourney of Harrenhal.

"Doesn't matter if it is a boy or a girl." I thought to myself "They will be the next Lord or Lady Stark."

I never wanted to be Lord Stark, Lord of Winterfell, etc. I am the younger brother, I was never meant to lead. Brandon was always the one who was good at swords, chivalry and brotherhood. Now, he, he was an heir. He could go to the Wolf's Wood and make the stags pledge allegiance to him, his sight made men's blood boil with reverence. I had always dreamed of myself at his side, his sword and shield, his trusted ear. A brother. I dreamed of being a master-at-arms in his Winterfell, teaching his sons how to wield swords, or if fate was kind to me, even the Lord of my small keep, Father had always talked of building a keep at Sea Dragon Point.

But that blasted day, when both Father and Brandon died, my entire world crumbled, now finally, I have hopes of having a peaceful existence. "I had already failed Brandon, I will not fail his seed." I mused to myself.

Then the screams dampened, but another set of crying was not reaching my ears, try as I might. I stood up, and paced about the room, as a wetnurse came into the study.

"It was a boy, my Lords" she said with a quiver in her voice, with her head bowed

"Was?" I asked in horror

"He was born upside down, and still my Lord. The maester did everything, but the babe didn't wake up."

As soon as her piece was over, we could hear the maddened cries of a woman. Ashara no doubt, she had just lost her chance of finally being with at least the mark of Brandon. I myself, found my strength slipping, as I slumped in the chair. My last hope of living peacefully while watching over Brandon's line extinguished.

Resolving to talk with to Ashara tomorrow, I slept in the study itself, too mentally tired to do otherwise. Then, next morning, it was found that Lady Ashara had jumped from her window, straight into the sea, maddened by grief.

Her last words were "Bran, Bran... I dreamed I was with child, Bran."

With heavy horses, heavier bags and yet heavier hearts, we found ourselves on the road again, no one brave enough to talk about what had occurred.

(2 days later)

As the tower's gate finally come is view, so do two broad shouldered men, with armors emblazoned with the 3 headed dragon. Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull and Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Gods, this was going to be tough fight, Ser Arthur Dayne is by far the best swordsman I have ever seen, and Ser Gerold is a seasoned veteran, his feats legendary.

(Writer's Note - Gerold Hightower, in the books, served the same purpose Barristan Selmy does in the show - a thoroughly seasoned veteran, who can still tear apart young squires, the pinnacle of what being a knight can achieve basically)

"Lord Stark" said Ser Gerold, stabbing his sword in the ground.

"I looked for you at the Trident." I said, a bit unsure.

"We weren't there" Ser Gerold replied calmly, Ser Arthur chipped in "Your friend the Usurper would lie beneath the ground, if we had been."

"The Mad King is dead. Rhaeghar lies beneath the ground. Why weren't you there to protect your Prince?"

"Our Prince wanted us here" Ser Gerold said.

"Where's my sister" I said, tired of the politicking.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." said Ser Gerold as both the White Cloaks started wearing their helms. This is bad. With me, I have - Howland Reed, Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, and Mark Ryswell. Counting me, 7 men.

But in front us are 2 fighters, both having spent their lives in battles and training yards. Along with that, they are sporting their Kingsguard armor, while we are wrapped only in leather with some metal bracers. Ser Arthur is even wielding Dawn, the ancestral Valyrian Steel sword of House Dayne.

As the fighting starts, 4 of us went to Ser Gerold, while the other 3 engaged Ser Arthur, more afraid of experience, than skill, explaining the more bodies on Ser Gerold.

A storm of fluried motions took right at the base of the tower. Men clanging against metal, sword dashing against leather as we fought less like men, and more like dogs. After what seemed an hour, Ser Gerold fell, while taking Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, and Theo Wull with him. In that same time Ser Arthur had slain Mark Ryswell, as me, Howland Reed and William Dustin are about to face off, a voice booms from the tower.

"Art have you forgotten your word?" asked the voice, clearly my sister's.

Ser Arthur freezes, then sighing and sheathing his sword, "Today is an impossible day, for honor and duty have split ends, who would've thought it would be love that would stop me from slaying the king-killers. Come Lord Stark, meet your blood." he says while gesturing me to the stairs.

I forget all manners as I run up the stairs and enter the only chamber, high up in the tower.

"Lyanna." i whispered

There she laid with her hair sprawled, as untamed as her spirit once had been, her eyes cresent in a crying expression, as she had one breast free, feeding a babe, while the entire blanket she was covered with was damp with her blood.

"Is that you? Is that really you? You're not a dream." she said in a hoarse, yet whimpering voice.

"No, I'm not a dream. I'm here. Right here. With you, Lya" I said, trying to smile confidently.

"I've missed you, Big Brother." Lyanna said with a smile

"I've missed you too." I said, my voice cracking.

"I wanted to be brave." she said with an almost hysterical cry

" You are, Lya" I try to reassure her "Braver than any man or woman I've known."

"I'm not" she said, admonishingly, as she looks down on her blanket "I don't want to die." she cries on my chest.

"You're not going to" I said, trying to be firm, but failing to, I snapped at one of the men "Get her some water. Isn't there a maester?" I said, surprised at my own tone.

"No, no water." she said, raising her own voice "Listen to me, Ned" she brings my ears to her lips, and says in the softest whisper I've heard.

"He's Rhaeghar's and mine, Ned. Robert is King now. He'll kill him. You have to protect him, Ned, you have to protect him. Promise me, Ned, Promise me."