Chapter Text
Even halfway through the Prince’s Pass, Eddard could still smell the capital. A horrendous mix of shit, piss and burning wood seemed to hang in the air, haunting him.
Not to mention the blood, so much blood.
The babes, children of the silver prince, butchered like animals. He wouldn’t forget the sight of their mutilated bodies for the rest of his life.
He hadn’t even been able to properly look at them, neither had any of his men, the sight had been so gruesome.
Right now, as far as the capital and his chosen brother were concerned, he was on his journey halfway back to the North. Eddard had lifted the siege of Storm's End and was about to leave for home when he had heard a rumor of his sister's possible location. It was a fool's errand, nothing more than hearsay from passing smallfolk, but if there was a chance, even the smallest one…
He had to be sure.
So he rode to Dorne with six of his bannermen, trustworthy men of the North, ones that knew when to keep their mouths shut if it was necessary.
The journey had been grueling, to say the least. He had arrived in Dorne pale as a sheet, but now his skin was redder than the ripest apple.
Their first concession to the relentless desert had been their armor, sold for a pittance to a townsman in exchange for a meager supply of coin and water—daylight robbery, though they had little choice.
The switch to lighter leathers had its advantages. They rode faster, and the breathable material made the oppressive heat slightly more bearable, though it was still a far cry from comfort.
Northmen belonged in the north. If he didn’t know better, Eddard would have thought this had to be one of the fabled seven hells.
How could sane men even live in such a place?
Truthfully it was just easier to complain about the weather than think about his sister. He feared in what kind of condition he would find her. A she-wolf of Winterfell did not belong in a place like this, so far from her family, from her home and her gods.
What he really feared to consider was what the prince could have possibly done with her, or what he might not have done. It had been nagging at him ever since the Trident, when the Mad King’s heir had begged for parley, one that had been denied by both Robert and him.
Had they been rash in their decision? Had they made a mistake? A mistake that could have had catastrophic consequences if he was right. Had already had catastrophic consequences.
The entire royal family dead, his war for justice turned into a slaughter spanning the Seven Kingdoms, fuelled by Robert’s unquenchable rage towards anything dragon.
So much unneeded death.
He could see it now, the tower his sister was supposedly held up in. Built from ugly, dark sandstone bricks…
And the three men guarding it.
Aerys’s kingsguard. Even from afar, Eddard could see the shining, milky-white blade of Dawn, the mythical sword of House Dayne… and the outline of the man holding it. He’d never had the chance to speak to Arthur Dayne, only heard of him in stories and folktales…
The deadliest killer in all of the Seven Kingdoms, only held back by his brotherhood's code and his unshakeable honor…
Ned had fought on the Trident, had fought for his right to exist… and yet it was now that he was fucking terrified of what was about to happen.
He doubted they would allow his sister to leave without a fight, more bloodshed for a senseless mad king and his equally mad son.
If he truly was mad. The alternative was… unthinkable.
When the knights were near enough to hear his words, Ned dismounted. Leaving the rest of his party well away for diplomacy's sake, yet close enough to save his sorry hide if it came to it. Eddard could see the tension in the knights. Ser Arthur’s stare was… perhaps somewhat less hostile than his brothers, perhaps because of his interactions with Ashara not so long ago?
They had a complicated history, it was his admittedly short life’s greatest regret that he would never have the chance to ask for her hand.
“I looked for you on the Trident.”
“We were not there,” The lord commander answered.
Ser Oswell opened his mouth as if to add something, but his gaze flickered toward the Tower behind them, and he thought better of it, falling silent.
“When King’s Landing fell, Ser Jaime ran your king through with a sword of gold," Eddard pressed, "and again, I wondered—where were you?”
“Where our prince wanted us to be,” Ser Gerold said, “for good or ill - we follow our prince's designs, otherwise our… false brother might not have succeeded.”
“Yes, your failures seem to grow by the moment, yet still, here you remain… One must wonder—why go through all this trouble for my kidnapped sister?”
It was a dangerous game, provoking the knights. A single misstep could seal his fate, and insulting their liege was a sure way to invite death. But he had to know. He needed answers, even if the truth carried... unfortunate consequences.
He hoped not, for enough Starks had been lost to this cursed war already. It would be a bloody pity to die so far from the North.
“The Queen Regent is exactly where she wished to be, Lord Stark.”
The what? “The Queen Regent?”
“It is the title of the queen mother, in the event that the King has passed and the heir is too young to rule, but I’m sure you already know this.” Ser Gerold stated, not unkindly, thought his frustration with the situation was evident.
No.
Surely the old knight couldn’t mean…
“But that would imply that…”
“That they married?” Ser Gerold hummed. “Before the Old Gods and the new.”
It was Arthur Dayne who continued, “I suppose your kinslayer king wouldn’t like that, would he? His obsession with Queen Lyanna is known even down here in Dorne.”
“They were to be wedded…”
“Against her will, from what we have heard. Though that wouldn’t stop an honorable man like you, would it, Lord Stark?” That one stung. It wasn’t his decision to marry Catelyn, but needs must and he did his duty.
That didn’t mean that Ser Arthur agreed, clearly doing his duty had caused some harm to his sister.
Eddard had been ready to write to his father about a betrothal when all of this started, clearly Lady Dayne was of the same mind. Learning as much had been as crushing as it had been elating. He had thought that they got along rather well during the tourney and he had been more than willing to court her properly… but alas, fate got in the way.
“It was never my intention to hurt Lady Ashara, Ser Arthur, nor is she the topic we should be discussing.”
Ser Gerold agreed. “Indeed it is not, though your arrival puts us in a position most awkward. Queen Lyanna is in no state to return to the North. Even if she was willing.”
That confused Ned.
“What do you mean is in no position?” Then it clicked, “the queen regent… ”
Ser Gerold had just opened his mouth to answer when a piercing wail cut through the air.
Lyanna’s wail.
Instinct kicked in and he tried to forcibly push himself past the knights, only to be stopped by multiple firm hands.
They would not keep him from her, never.
“Let me through, I have to see her!” But the hands didn’t relent.
They would not stop him, not when he had come this far.
Instinctually his hand darted to his sword. If he could think clearly, he may have realized how stupid such an action was, but alas, he could not.
His first and only swing had been as wild as it had been desperate, meant to merely make distance between himself and the knights. His yell had attracted his bannermen, who were now barreling down the dunes, desperately running to assist their lord.
It only got more out of control from there. Theo Wull was struck down near Instantly by the Bull. Ser Ryswell tried to retaliate, only to find Arthur Dayne’s sword, Dawn piercing his chainmail like it was mere cheap, old parchment.
He would have lost his own life, had a piercing scream of a little girl not filled the air.
The combat stopped nearly as quickly as it started. Everyone's eyes turning towards the source of the sound… who stood at the very entrance of the tower Eddard had so desperately attempted to gain access to earlier.
It was a little girl that stood there, tears in her eyes and clutching a small stuffed dragon in her tiny hands.
By the gods .
Purple eyes and dark, near black hair streaked with silver…
This was Rhaenys Targaryen.
The supposedly dead Rhaenys Targaryen. The princess he had silently mourned over after seeing Clegane's and Lorche’s butchery.
Instantly his sword lowered. Clearly the horrified expression on the girl's face was enough to snap even his comrades out of their battle frenzy, because he heard no further sounds of metal striking metal, only the quiet sobs of the girl and the cruel whistle of the desert winds.
“Stop! You need to stop! She needs help, there’s so much blood…” The girl continued sobbing.
Blood , by the gods, she wasn’t pregnant, she was… He turned his gaze back to the knights. ”She’s in labor?!”
Their solemn nods were their only answer.
“But it’s too early, she hasn’t been away…”
“We know, Lord Stark.”
The crying little princess had started sprinting towards them, completely uncaring about the two dead men and the multitude of swords still unsheathed around her. Even when the kingsguard begged her, she didn’t slow. Instead, she made her way to him, stopping a mere step away before raising her gaze to meet his.
“She’s been begging for you, she - she just knew you were coming, she said that had seen you. I think…” She hugged her dragon tighter. “I think she’s going away…” he had to strain to hear her, her voice had been so low, barely a whisper.
It broke his heart.
Gods, he wanted to hug the poor child. Targaryen or not, she was innocent and Robert would move heaven and hells to kill her.
Instead he threw down his sword, the weapon clattering across the small rocks buried in the sand.
“Enough people have died, I just want to see my sister.” Maybe for the last time went unsaid. He told himself, for Rhaenys’ sake, not his own.
The kingsguard remained tense, but nodded.
They knew the possibility as well as he did.
It was Ser Arthur who sheathed his sword first and motioned for him to follow. He did so wordlessly.
The last remaining kingsguard herded Rhaenys back inside the tower, away from prying eyes. This time she went along without a protest. Surely she wouldn’t be so attached to a woman apparently married to her father, a rival in all but name to her own mother?
That theory died the second he pushed the door to Lyanna’s room open and saw the small bed with toys scattered around it…
And the small drawings hung on the walls, all of Rhaenys, Rhaegar and… Two dark haired adults.
Elia and Lyanna.
Gods help them all.
The smell of iron was so bad he nearly gagged, even with the open windows the room was suffocating.
The princess was right, the air smelled of death.
His sister was so small he could barely see her under the mountain of blankets. Her breathing was ragged and she was shivering.
A birthing fever.
Surely this was something a maester could help with? Why was there no maester? They were in the middle of nowhere, Lyanna had been on the run from Robert and Aerys for months…
There would be no help, not here.
Lyanna was going to die.
He walked to his sister's bedside before kneeling.
She was so far gone, she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Ned? Ned, is that you?” Gods, even her voice was so weak. Nothing like the little hellion he knew from the years long since past.
“I'm here, Lya. I'm here.”
“You are real? I’ve seen you so many times, I'm not sure anymore.”
“Aye, it's me sister.” Her unfocused eyes stared at him, almost like trying to put a puzzle together, he wasn’t sure she completely believed him.
That changed when he grabbed her sweaty hand, pulling it against his chest.” Her eyes widened and gained some clarity. “You’ve never done that before.”
“That’s because ghosts make for poor bedtime companions, Lya.”
She smiled, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.
“You would know, dear flour knight.” Of course she would remember that even on her deathbed. The little monster had trapped his bedding with a sack of flour.
When he had tried to settle for the night, it had turned into a flour filled disaster.
He hadn’t lived that down for a moon.
“You must protect him, Ned. Promise me.”
“Him?” He heard shuffling from behind him, before a small bundle was pressed into his arms.
“My son, Ned. Protect him, promise me. You know Robert will kill him, he would never survive on his own. Protect him, please.”
Ned swallowed. “Of course I will Lya, I swear it. He will be safe.”
Her eyes gained their clarity again. Slowly, she pulled her other arm from under the covers, placing it on top of her boy's head. “My little Aemon, he’ll be strong, I know it.” She let go, her hand falling on top of the covers.
Lyanna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I'm tired, Ned.”
No.
“Lyanna, don’t go to sleep, Lyanna listen to me, don’t sleep!” But she didn’t answer.
Nor did she breathe.
She was gone.
His sister was gone.
Then and only then did the boy cry.
And so did he.
Ser Arthur had stood in the corner during their exchange, staying mercifully silent while they exchanged their final farewells. He took the bedding and covered his sister's face with it before saying one final prayer for her.
If the air in the room had been oppressive before, now it was downright hostile. He needed to leave, he needed air.
So he stood, arranging his sister's crying baby boy to be more comfortable in his arms before quickly marching out the door and down the spiraling tower steps.
At the bottom of the same steps he found a scene equally heartbreaking as the one on top of them.
Little Princess Rhaenys had her head pressed into the shoulder of the elder kingsguard. She was sobbing horrible, deep sobs and muttering in Valyrian.
“Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon zirȳla naejot jikagon.”
“Skoro syt gōntan ziry henujagon?“
“Iksin nyke mērī sir?”
He had no clue what she was saying, but he could guess .
And none of his guesses were any more enjoyable than the last.
How badly had they misunderstood the dynamic between Lyanna and the Targaryens? How could she be so saddened by the death of a woman who he would have assumed was a rival to her own mother?
What had they missed?
She probably felt the kingsguard tense when they saw him, because instantly she let go of Ser Gerold, instead turning towards him, sad resignation shining in her beautiful amethyst eyes. They were so bright he almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
That the woman that she clearly somehow idolized was gone.
“Muña, muña Lya, is she… is she gone?”
“Muña?” His accent was so terrible even the devastated princess managed a small smile.
It was Ser Arthur who answered.
“Muña, is High Valyrian for mother, Lord Stark.” Eddard’s eyes widened. Surely she didn’t..?
“You consider Lyanna to be your…muña?”
Rhaenys just nodded.
Fuck.
“I'm sorry… Rhaenys but Lyanna is… in the arms of the stranger now.” Before the girl could break down again, he quickly held out little Aemon.
“But, she left you one last gift. Would you like to meet him? Your brother.”
Rhaenys instantly darted to her feet, she left Ser Gerolds arms and quickly marched to him, barely allowing her eyes to leave her brother.
She raised her hand, only quickly glancing at him to ask for his permission before petting her little brother.
“Valonqar.” She whispered.
Clearly Ser Arthur saw the question in his eyes because, again he answered, “Means little brother.”
“Can I hold him?” Eddard nodded before carefully passing the baby to his sister. When she took hold of him, he quieted instantly . Choosing to instead stare at the new, strange girl that was now holding him.
She held him like he was the most precious thing in the world, it broke his heart for the thousandth time.
“Mazeminna car hen ao, valonqar.” She kissed his little forehead and continued in a much more quiet, menacing tone. A tone that had no place coming from the mouth of a four-namedays old girl. “Kīvin zijo.”
She nuzzled the baby to her chest before turning her gaze back to Eddard. “What is his name?”
He knew what he wanted to name him, but the boy wasn’t his to name, so despite his misgivings… He settled for telling her the truth. “His name is Aemon, princess.”
“Aemon .”
Her voice had been reverent. She pulled the baby from her chest to look him in his eyes again. Thank the gods they were grey, just like his mothers. The complete Stark look.
It was Ser Arthur that ushered them all outside the tower, despite the emotional turmoil and devastation, a plan needed to be made.
The boy in his sister's arms was the rightful king. The heir to the Iron Throne. A blood claim much higher than Roberts, if he was foolish enough to claim it by the right of blood and Eddard just knew he would. There was no world where Robert would allow Viserys to take the seat, even if by technicality, he would be the rightful king.
At least before Aemon would be revealed to the world.
If he was ever revealed.
His thoughts were broken by the babes cooes, clearly he was enjoying the sun much more than he was.
And then he lost his breath.
He lost his breath because the sun revealed the terrible truth in the boy's eyes.
The edges of his irises were not grey, but dark purple.
His fathers eyes.
Rhaenys, realizing the same thing, instead of freezing in terror squealed in happiness. It was a feature they shared. There was a very real possibility that the boy's eyes would only continue to turn more purple as time passed by.
And people would start asking questions.
What were they to do?
“The king is young, he must be protected.” Rhaenys ignored them, continuing to dote on her little brother, but Eddard most certainly did not.
“I could take the babe as my own. Bring him to Winterfell. He would never go hungry and he would be trained and educated just the same as his cousins.”
Whent instantly scoffed. “The life of a bastard is not fitting for a king, Lord Stark.”
“Perhaps not, but he would be safe. Robert would never question my honor or loyalty. If I were to tell him I fathered a bastard, he would laugh, but he wouldn’t question my word.”
Arthur shook his head. “That would require separating the babe from his sister and…” He gestured towards the two, Rhaenys had passed her dragon toy to Aemon, whose little hands were turning it around in wonder. “I don’t think that’s an option.”
“The princess is far too recognizable, keeping them together would be a tremendous risk, she shouldn’t stay in Westeros at all.”
Again Oswell disagreed; “If she doesn’t stay in Westeros, then neither does the king.”
“I will not abandon my nephew, I made a promise to Lyanna that -”
“Enough!” It was Ser Arthur's voice who cut them off. “There might be another solution, the princess can stay and the babe will be safe.”
“Another solution?”
Arthur nodded. “My sister, Ashara, recently lost her babe. She’s been devastated ever since. The king would give her something to do, it won't replace what she lost, but he could give her purpose. Aemon would be loved and well cared for, a solution on how to keep his sister close could easily be found.”
Eddard’s eyes widened. A babe? Surely they didn’t…
“She lost a babe?” His voice had come out much weaker than he had intended and Ser Arthur clearly noticed, based on the suddenly icy look he gave him.
“She did, she never did tell me which Stark sibling put it there, would you care to elaborate?” Instantly Eddard was shaking his head.
“It was but a single night of passion and she swore to me that she had taken moon tea. I had intended to court her properly after I had the approval of my father…Surely she didn’t…”
Surprisingly, the kingsguards eyes softened. “Ash always was a romantic… and so very desperate for a babe. We shall have words later on this, Lord Stark.”
He nodded, before returning to the matter at hand. “Am I allowed to visit him, to see my sister's son?”
“You know my sister would never deny you, Lord Stark. You also know damn well that she is the boy's best chance.”
Howland, who along with the rest of the northern men who had been listening to the peculiar conversation, had quickly put two and two together, adding his own voice to the kingsguards; “Ned, if that boy is who I think he is, you know damn well that Lady Catelyn will never accept him, even if you told her the truth. She would only ever see him as a threat to her family and you. At least march to Starfall, ask Lady Dayne if she would be amenable, then make your decision.”
Eddard’s eyebrow rouse. “You seem to know my lady wife quite well, Lord Reed.”
The answering snort only confirmed it. “Anyone who knows anything about the Tully’s, knows that they are… rather fanatical when it comes to the matters of the faith. Listen to the kingsguard, my lord.”
He gave the lord a wary nod, releasing a tired sigh in the process, before turning back to Ser Arthur. “I’ll follow you. We will travel to Starfall and treat with your sister, see if she agrees. Caring for a child is a lifelong commitment and this one isn’t even hers.”
“It won't matter, you have my word on that.”
The party broke their camp in record time, the tower was pulled down and Lyanna's body laid into a coffin, ready to be transported to her final rest. The nursemaid, Wylla, had to fight tooth and nail with Rhaenys to be allowed to feed the boy.
It took Ser Arthur’s promise to be allowed to ride with Aemon in her arms for her to finally release the babe.
In the midst of such horrible loss and tragedy, the little princess was a beacon of light and hope. He just wondered when the girl would fully register that her family was gone, that all that remained was the boy in Wylla’s arms.
The rest of her family had a slim chance of escaping Dragonstone, but he could always hope. No one deserved her brother and mother‘s fate.
Thankfully Starfall was simply further down the Prince’s Pass… if you ignored the mountain you had to overcome to access it.
They had decided to pass by the mountain where the Dayne’s off High Hermitage resided, though they didn’t stop. Secrecy was of utmost importance with their current company. They had to heavily limit travel times as the princess was still young, even if she wasn’t truly bothered by the weather.
The very same weather that was absolutely devastating his men. They had lost Ethan Glover to a severe heatstroke, something Eddard would never forgive himself for.He had been pushing them too hard, trying to overcome their short travel times during the evenings and the mornings.
Only Cassel, Howland and Dustin remained of his group and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
When they reached the Torentine river, Princess Rhaenys was elated, excitedly showing her baby brother the many plants and reeds that occupied the beaches. It was adorable and boon to all of their spirits.
The princess herself was quiet, morose and brooding whenever she wasn’t entertaining her brother, perhaps he had underestimated the girl's capability of understanding what was happening in the world around her. Though he had learned not to speak Robert’s name aloud near her. The look of utter contempt and hatred she gave him had no place on the face of a girl barely three-namedays old.
It had taken them a little over a week and a half to see the first signs of the villages and towns connected to Starfall. It was just after the first village they had arrived in that Rhaenys decided that little ‘Aems,’ as she had started calling him, needed a bath.
So despite the protests of the kingsguard, the princess, along with the boy's wet nurse and her own handmaiden, bathed the boy in the river. Perhaps he would have been more worried if his nephews screaming giggles couldn’t be heard all the way to their camp, situated on a ledge covering the small beach they were using.
He also learned that the princess had a very colorful repertoire of words when she was upset about something; he had doubts that her mother would approve. Apparently little Aemon was giving her the bath of a lifetime.
At least one of them seemed to have fun .
When the princess finally returned, her squirming brother in her arms, Eddard finally lost it.
The poor girl's hair was sticking out in all directions, her eyes were narrowed into slits, and if she didn’t look so utterly ridiculous, her glare would have been quite menacing for someone so young.
Now it only served to amuse him further.
Little Aemon had the most smug expression he had ever seen on a near newborn, as if the boy knew exactly what he had been doing. His grey-purple eyes were positively glowing with mirth and his laughter mirrored his own.
After taking a moment to gather himself, he gave the young lady an indulgent smile. “I wasn’t aware that you too were planning on taking a bath, my princess?”
Rhaenys pouted. “I wasn’t , until this little devil decided that I needed one too.”
He gave her a bemused smirk. “His mother was known to be quite the deviant. Always playing with swords and refusing to ride side-saddle. It nearly drove our parents mad.”
Had he said as much to any other Targaryen, Eddard might have feared for his safety. The Mad King was known to rave about impure mutts and stains on his family. Ser Athur had told him much about the hell that had been the Red Keep during Aerys’s reign.
But the princess was one of the reasons he had raved, and not one to take after her grandfather besides.
Rhaenys scrunched her nose, before marching over to him and passing Aemon over. She muttered the entire way back to her tent and didn’t stop even after the flaps had closed behind her. He watched in amusement as the princess’ sole handmaiden quickly ran in after her, probably to try and calm her childish wrath and attempt to somehow control her completely out of control hair.
Even he could tell it would be quite the undertaking.
Moving his gaze back to his nephew, Eddard realized that the little bundle of mischief had fallen asleep immediately after being passed over. It was so strange, whenever he was not with his sister, the boy seemed so quiet and broody, to be honest he reminded him of… well, himself.
He would be a terror when he learned to walk.
And should he be given to Ashara to raise, he wouldn’t be allowed to see that. Eddard would be half-way around the world, on the other side of Westeros.
The thought was devastating, even if he knew it was for the best, for Howland was right. Catelyn would most likely make the poor boy's life miserable and he deserved better than that. Every child deserved a happy home.
There was a difference between surviving and living and Aemon should be allowed to live , be happy, have a family and thrive.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t welcome in Winterfell, perhaps he would be allowed to foster later? Or he might convince Ashara to visit, at least for a little while.
Even if seeing her in the warm walls of Winterfell would be beyond painful, so many opportunities lost, futures unwalked…
At least it would be safe, he would make it safe. He would find a way.
They would be safe. Even if they couldn’t be together. He couldn’t have her, the war had seen to that.
Besides, would it not be at least something if he could show her what could have been her home? If they had decided to stay in the North instead of Starfall. Ned was sure both his brother and Ashara’s father would have been happy to take them and have their future extended family close.
His thoughts were interrupted by the shuffling of feet. Eddard looked behind him, seeing the remains of his northern party making their way towards him, before taking a seat around the unlit campfire.
It was silent, only the sound of cricket song filling the air, along with the quiet caress of the passing winds. He could see the silent question on his companions' faces, they had yet to voice any of their thoughts out loud, merely following his lead deeper into Dorne, but he knew their patience was running out and he understood .
They too had lost loved ones in a war against the mad royal family… And yet there he sat, holding a babe that was potentially the last male heir of that dynasty.
It was Cassel who finally broke the silence, Ned knew not why, but if felt wrong to break the natures song with their own speech.
His companions cared not.
“I think it’s time we talked, my lord.”
Dustin nodded in agreement. “Aye, we can’t help but think of the implications this little quest has.”
Eddard hugged Aemon a little tighter. “Implications?”
Both nodded. “Aye, implications. That be the last male dragon you are holding, my lord. We just fought a war to dethrone a madman and rescue a lady, who apparently never was in need of rescuing.”
“We didn’t know Martyn, how could we have?”
“Indeed, it looks to me that the North was robbed of a potential princess. Stark blood could have been flowing in the veins of a prince or a princess, so why the hell did Lady… Princess Lyanna not say anything? Why were no ravens sent? Why did she run away in the cover of the night? Surely she understood the consequences?”
Eddard shooks his head before sighing. “I don’t have the answers you seek. Just like you, I believed that we were to rescue Lyanna from her captor, not… this.” He didn’t share that he had his suspicions before their arrival, but it was irrelevant at this point anyway.
“And is the North not bloodbound to assist little Aemon, should he vie for the Iron Throne? He is your blood, my lord.”
Eddard turned his gaze back to the sleeping babe. He slowly caressed his cheek with his thumb. “Haven’t enough people already died for that ugly thing? Robert will make for a good king. The Targaryens are history now; the best we can do is allow them to live comfortably.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Ned.” Instantly Eddard’s gaze left the babe, seeing Howland gazing at him unhappily. “You know as well as I do, that as long as Robert Baratheon sits the Iron Throne, no Targaryen will ever be safe, your nephew included.”
“He might not be able to live openly but -”
“And what of Prince Aegon? Princess Elia? Most likely Queen Rhaella, her unborn child and Prince Viserys too. The first two are already dead, no justice to be found, the last three will most likely be dead sooner or later… Are we to just allow this injustice to go?”
“There is no way to avenge them without igniting another war, Howland. The North alone couldn’t fight the entire realm, and you know it. Why can’t you just give Robert a chance?”
“Wait a decade or two and we wouldn’t be fighting alone. The princess rallies Dorne behind her and she will not allow what happened to her family go unpunished. And you know as well as I do that Robert is a whoremongerer unsuited to governance and I’m not exactly pleased to kneel to a kinslayer king who condones the murder of innocent women and babes.”
“Perhaps kingship would finally set Robert to rights?” He hummed. “He will have something to do, to drive for, Robert’s not a bad man Howland, you will see. The princess is more than free to attempt to take the throne back on her own, but I don’t see how that would affect the North.”
Howland snorted. “Don’t act ignorant, my lord. It doesn't suit you. They are Targaryens , what are the odds that those two, who are already inseparable, won't be doing something that most of Westeros will see as a sin, sooner or later?” Eddard’s eyes widened. “And even if such a thing wouldn’t happen, your nephew would most likely follow Rhaenys into battle either way. Are you willing to risk that you will lose him, knowing that you did nothing to help?”
With no response, Eddard could do nothing but sigh, letting his shoulders slump.He once again looked at his nephew. Jon , that’s the name he would give him, were he to take him as his own.
But he wasn’t his to take… and Lyanna named him Aemon, whether he liked it or not.
A Targaryen name for a Targaryen king.
A king without a seat or a crown.
Fuck .
“Fine, should my nephew come to the North and ask for my help, we will talk and we will see. That is all I can offer.” Howland clearly wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but let it go with a nod. He wouldn’t be getting a better one anyway, not today.
It took three more days before they finally arrived at the gates of Starfall. As soon as Ser Arthur revealed his identity, the massive doors were swiftly opened. It had been agreed beforehand that disclosing his presence was the best course of action. With Lord Dayne away from the keep, Starfall was far quieter than usual, its halls less bustling with activity, making their arrival all the more discreet.
The castle was stunning, a white marble behemoth standing in the middle of a seemingly endless range of mountains, sand and rivers.
An oasis unlike any other in Dorne, Ned was sure.
And then there was her. All beautiful and proper, the very image of a noble lady. Head high, with a welcoming smile upon her face as she greeted them.
It brought back memories, old and buried ones. From a tournament held long ago in honor of a man undeserving of it. He had been a clumsy child back then, one that she more than likely had first entertained more out of pity than anything else.
Eddard still couldn’t help but wonder what could have been, had things gone differently, could the child she had miscarried truly be…
Gods, they truly needed to talk.
“Arthur, sers, Lord Stark. Be most welcome to Starfall.” Ashara’s voice was smooth as silk, a balm to a weary veteran's soul. “I hope you will forgive a lady for expressing her confusion on why you are here and together at that, two groups of seemingly mortal enemies come together on my doorstep?”
It was Ser Arthur that stepped forward, wrapping the Lady in a hug before answering;
“A common cause.”
Ashara let go, taking a step back before raising a delicate eyebrow in answer. “A common cause? I do wonder how that came to be.”
Ned couldn’t blame her for her confusion. “Its compli -”
“They are guarding me and my little brother!” A voice interrupted them. Eddard watched as the little princess pushed through the sea of gathered bodies, making her way towards the lady.”
Immediately Ashara’s eyes widened, a similar reaction to his own when he had met the princess for the first time.
Unlike him, his former lover did not hesitate to curtsy to the young girl, bowing her head before greeting Rhaenys as was proper.
The princess, however, was having none of it, eagerly showing the small bundle in her hands. For a moment Ashara’s eyes narrowed before they widened. “This isn’t little Aeg -” She caught herself, flinching when she realized what she was about to say.
Rhaenys didn’t seem to have caught the slip, so she quickly recovered. “Who is this, my princess?”
She beamed, “This is Aemon! My little brother. Isn’t he handsome?” Ashara’s eyes seemed to row across the group, asking a silent question.
Eddard shook his head, he was about to mouth ‘later’ when his lady love's eyes widened again. Clearly she had done the math. Aemon had come early, far too early.
Despite her confusion, when Ashara did speak, her voice was as polite as it had ever been; “He is most handsome. Would you like to come inside, princess? We’ll get you a proper bath and then we shall feast. How does that sound?”
Rhaenys gave her best contemplative look before nodding. Aemon’s nursemaid and the princess’s handmaiden followed on her tail as she was led inside. With her gone, the courtyard fell into a thick, awkward silence. The unlikely allies and their new host staring at one another contemplatively.
“The babe came early.” Of course it was Ashara who broke it, it was more a statement than a question, one that sought unneeded confirmation from them.
Eddard nodded. “And it cost his mother her life, there was no maester there to help her.”
“He's an orphan then.”
“That is why we are here, my lady. We were hoping to have a word with you, if you would be amenable to treat with us.”
Ashara wordlessly agreed, leading them inside the castle. The eyes of the servants followed them through the keep as she led them to what had to be her fathers solar. At least based on the presence of multiple, old Dayne family heirlooms and the single maid in the process of cleaning them.
It took but a single glance from the lady and the solar was theirs alone.
Ashara gestured towards the chairs situated before the lord's table, while taking her father’s seat herself. They followed the unspoken command immediately, gathering around the table for what would most likely be a monumental conversation.
One didn’t get to decide the fate of a prince everyday, or a princess.
The lord commander had barely taken a seat before Ashara spoke.
“What happened?”
Again, it was Arthur who took the lead. “Queen Regent Lyanna died in childbirth, her son, the future king, survived. Frankly, we had nowhere else to go Ash. Starfall was the closest and the safest keep to march to.”
She looked towards the kingsguard. “And the princess?”
“Rescued from the Red Keep, unbelievably so by none-other than Ser Jamie Lannister.”
Eddard’s breath hitched. “The Kingslayer saved the princess?” All three knights nodded.
“Indeed, he tried to save the rest of them too, but arrived too late. The princess was hidden under the very bed where that animal was …” Ser Gerold took a deep breath. “Where that animal raped and butchered the prince and princess. Ser Jaime arrived too late to save the two of them, but managed to lure the culprits away for long enough to get the princess out of the keep. She was brought to us, at the tower, where she was protected.”
“But I found him sitting on the Mad King’s throne doing nothing but… staring at nothingness.” The northman’s tone was laced with confusion.
“We don’t know what happened after the princess' rescue, we don’t even know why our brother betrayed his vows. All we do know comes from the princess herself.”
Ashara pulled their attention back to herself. “So the Lannisters, now traitors to the crown, know that a Targaryen still lives? That’s dangerous.”
Gerold shook his head in denial. “I highly doubt that Ser Jaime would have gone through so much trouble to rescue her, only to betray her later. She is safe. Well, as safe as she can be.”
“Her family deserves to know of her survival, the Martells will protect her.”
Eddard snorted. “But will they protect my nephew? The princess is adamant that she won't be separated from him, yet the Martells may very well see his very existence as an insult.”
“It won’t matter, Ned. If the princess loves him and demands that he’ll be cared for, he will be cared for, no matter their feelings.” The lady argued in return.
“Or they will see him as an obstacle on the princess's path to her throne, he could be in just as much danger with the Martells as he would be anywhere else, perhaps more.”
Ashara rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you are forgetting one very important detail, dear Lord Stark.”
Not you too .
“They are Targaryens, there is a very real chance that that particular issue will mend itself.”
Unbelievable.
“Why are all of you so unashamedly open about their... practices ?" Ned asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “Calling the bedding of one’s own sibling sinful doesn’t even begin to capture the abomination it is in the eyes of the gods. It’s beyond comprehension—an affront to everything sacred.”
“And do you believe they care? They will do it whether the rest of the realm likes it or not. It is not our place to try and change their nature. They didn’t try to do so to us, despite the conquest, what right do we have to do so to them?”
That silver tongue would be the end of him. What was he supposed to say to that? Did she have to humanize such a practice? Was there something about their incest that the rest of Westeros couldn’t understand?
How could he know?
If he didn’t know, how could anyone else?
Was there even anyone left who he could ask?
“And what if their relationship stays purely platonic? If it doesn’t evolve into something more, what then? Again he would be in danger, surrounded by those who would see him gone for the princess’ gain.”
“That is years from now, Eddard. They have plenty of time. If that does become a problem, we will untangle it then. I'm sure we can send him to the North if any danger does arise.”
He didn’t like it, but perhaps his feelings were irrelevant. The northern lord, however, still wanted assurances. “There is still the matter of where my nephew would live. He’s an orphan in need of a home.”
Arthur cleared his throat, picking up where Ned had left off. “We were... hoping you might help us with that, Ashara.”
She blinked, her expression shifting as realization dawned. “Me? You mean... that I—”
Ned rose from his seat, moving around the table to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Gods, it was strange to him, to touch this woman he had held - still did hold such passion for so platonically.
“My lady, we understand the weight of what we’re asking, especially after the loss you’ve endured. I would never hold it against you if you declined. But if there’s even the smallest chance that you could take this boy as your own... He has no mother, no father. Bringing him North would place him under my lady wife’s scrutiny, and I fear for what that would mean. He has nowhere else to go.”
Her shoulders had stiffened from the touch. “I... I would need time to think. It’s... a lot.”
He let go.
“Of course. Take as long as you need.”
Ashara took a deep breath, collecting herself before nodding. “I’ll have rooms prepared for all of you. As I mentioned earlier, we’ll hold a small feast tonight, a celebration for those who survived this terrible tragedy. I assume the kingsguard will wish to stay close to the prince and princess?”
The lord commander inclined his head. "One of us should always remain with the royals. It would be appreciated if you could house them near one another."
"Already arranged. Princess Rhaenys will sleep next to the nursery.” Lady Dayne rose gracefully from her seat. "I must admit, when I woke up this morning, I didn’t expect the day to unfold like this. You’ve given me much to consider, Lord Stark, sers.” She offered them a polite nod of her head. “For now, I bid you farewell. My handmaiden will show you to your rooms.”
With quiet nods of gratitude, they all followed her lead and left the room. The days ahead promised to be very interesting indeed.