act ii. chapter lix

DROWNING
---

♛♛♛

Morning came the next day, as he assumed it would. It always did. Ned wondered when the Gods would finally take him at this point. The memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. And he remembered.

He was a married man.

A married man.

He suddenly became very nauseous. He turned to look at the woman in his bed. Her auburn hair was all knotted and splayed out against her face. Ned admitted to himself: she did have a beautiful face. But no face could ever compare to Ashara Dayne.

None.

He thought of the bastard girl by the name of Eddara Sand. He wondered what she looked like. Ned would be lying to himself if he said the days following the great Tournament were not filled with daydreams of his hard hands in her course black hair. Dreams of a wedding ceremony before the weirwood in the Godswood of Winterfell. The holdfast that his father would give him, near Winterfell. It would need work, but they would not mind. He even daydreamed of a child. He thought their firstborn might be a girl. It wouldn't have to be a boy. He needed no heir. And a girl might be a fun experience for them.

He thought he might inherit those laughing purple eyes. Gods, how he missed those laughing purple eyes. Did Eddara Sand have those eyes? Or did she have his? He hoped every bit of her looked like Ashara. A girl that looked anything like Ned did not belong in Dorne.

He looked down at the body sleeping next to him. A pang in his stomach hit him when he remembered the events of the previous night. Not once when he laid with her could he look her in the eyes. Not once during the wedding ceremony. He did not even know the color.

He looked upon her sleeping, skinny, pale frame and couldn't help but remember the caramel curves of his southern beauty. Ashara slept as though she were suspended in the stars, her back cradled by the moon. Catelyn slept on thorns.

The wedding brought him no joy. Her kiss brought him no comfort. The consummation brought him no pleasure.

She did not smile, nor did she smell, nor did she taste like Ashara. She didn't feel like Ashara.

But this was Ned's wife. He wasn't Ned Stark, second son of House Stark. He was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. His marriage was in the name of the alliance. And his duty was to make sure his house lived on through her.

A chill ran through his spine and he let his head hang. He was sick. Just mad at himself. The feelings he felt were wrong. Dishonorable.

Because he was selfish. Selfish because he needed to be the one to execute the king. He needed to execute the king because by murdering his brother, the king murdered Ned's future. Ned was mad at himself because he hated the king more than the latter.

No one would ever hear that from him. He would never speak to a single soul about it. No one... unless he could speak to Ashara. Gods, he would talk to her about everything. He wouldn't leave a thing out. He imagined falling to his knees before her. Crying into her thighs, grasping onto her dress.

He imagined forsaking his oaths and running away with her and the bastard girl Eddarda Sand. Tears began to form in his eyes as he sat in that cold, loveless bed.

He wouldn't do that to his kingdom, though. And not to his now wife. He has sworn oaths. And those oaths mean something to him. But he would not hide Eddara Sand. If those rumors are true, he would claim her, he would take care of her. He would even take care of Ashara if she would let him. He would not take her as a mistress like so many southern lords have done, but he would take care of her.

He looked over again at his wife's bare body, and just closed his eyes. His mind was filled with the hidden fields where they made love. The star in the sky above them when they stayed too long.

He violently shook his head, trying to get them out of his head. He would never, ever get it back. He found his trousers and got out of bed, moving to the wash basin and dunked his head in it. He needed to reset. Ned wiped the water from his face.

"Ned?" a small, tired voice echoed in the room. Eddard kept his back turned and his head down.

"Catelyn."

"Are you well, my Lord?" she asked, her voice undemanding and sleepy. Ned sighed and pulled his undershirt overtop his head. He pulled his jerkin over as well and then reached for his leather-covered armor.

"No need to worry." He kept his head down; he pulled half of his air up and away from his eyes, tying it back.

"As your wife, it is my duty to worry about you." He pulled the armor over his head and it slapped at his knees. He began to belt it together under his arms. "I do not know you at all. But I don't have to see that you are troubled."

Ned grabbed his weapons belt off the chest and wrapped it around his waist, which had grown in health since his captivity. Not in girth, but in strength. He could see the ridges back in his belly and no longer see his ribs. He pulled his boots on. He decided it was enough. No need for any further armor or straps.

Today, the celebrations were over. They were at war.

⥤⥢

"It is high time we send word to Tywin Lannister," Lord said. He stood around a large table where a map of Westeros. Lords Estermont, Selmy, Tarth, and Dondarr on the Stormlands; Lords Reed, Dustin, Umber, Karstark, and Glover from the North; Lords Corbray and Royce from the Vale. All these were among the commanders of the Riverlands army.

"Tywin was Aery's Hand for years! They grew up together. His son was just sworn into the Kingsguard at six and ten! What makes you think he is not already conspiring with the King?" Lord Robert scoffed at him.

"Robert, Jaime Lannister is a hostage in the capital. If you think any different, you are a fool," Lord Eddard retorted. "And yes, Lord Tywin was his Hand. He was Aerys's Hand for many years. But he resigned. This is not an honor one can easily resign from. He left because he was betrayed. And I highly doubt Aerys would allow him back at his side."

"Well, why in seven hells has he not declared for anyone? The king called his banners, but he did not respond. The Rebellion is on its way and he is still sitting his lazy ass in Casterly Rock! The fucker did not even show himself at Harrenhal!" Robert noted.

"Lord Eddard is right," Jon Arryn spoke up. "Lord Tywin was absent from the tourney because Aerys was present. Tywin is no friend of the crown. And perhaps he hasn't responded to our call because we have not offered him one. It is high time we do."

"My Lord, what about the news of Rhaegar's return to King's Landing?" Yohn Royce piped up. "This surely must change things."

"Jon, perhaps we can discuss terms with Rheagar. The entire kingdom knows that he is nothing like Aerys. We can even get to the bottom of all these rumors and avoid bloodshed. I remember the rumor of a Great Tourney being put together in hopes of a Council that would allow a Prince to succeed his father before his death just as well as I remember the rumors of my sister being stolen. We could carry Rhaegar to our side. This war is against the King after all... not his son?"

The lesser Lords wouldn't dare speak against the Lord Paramount in the Lord. Jon Arryn grimaced. He did not want to say that Ned was wrong, but he did not like that. Robert did not waste any time in contending Ned's statement.

"I will not make peace with that beast. He stole my love, my betrothed. I will have her back by the end of this war, or I will have lost."

Jon Arryn put a hand on Ned's shoulder. "If this war is against Aerys, then it is against the Targaryens as well. Aerys is a child of thousands of generations of sister wives, as is Rhaegar. You may be too young to remember, but there was a time when Aerys was a fine young man as well. Times changed him. Incest made his mind weak. And Rheagar will be affected as well."

"In the south, they say every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin," Lord Hoster Tully interjected. He looked out to his Lords surrounding his table. "I am quite tired of gambling."

Ned sighed, worried about Lyanna. She was all he had left to care about in this war. She and Benjen. Everyone else was already lost to him.

"It seems we have made our decision, my Lords," Ned announced. "Next time we fight in the field, it won't be as easy as it has been. We have been facing Aerys's men. Men, he could barely wrangle up. Now we will face the men gathered by a Prince the people love. We can expect his kingsguard. Some of the best fighting men Westeros Has ever seen... the Dragon Prince... Arthur Dayne... Barristan Selmy... perhaps even the young lion of Lannister. I don't doubt their presence on the field. And you shouldn't either."

Ned looked down at their map. Jon Connington's well-gathered forces were spread out, just North of the Reach. There was a bulk of force held there in Riverrun. Ned picked up a dragon piece that was off the map. "We have received word that Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Barristan Selmy have reclaimed what is left of the Crown's army, that we faced in Ashford." He placed that dragon piece in Ashford and moved the spread dragon pieces back together, and moved them back to King's landing.

Jon took over. "With Prince Rhaegar's return, there will be regrouping in King's Landing. If the Battle of the Bells did not scare Aerys, nothing will. But we know it did. That is why he sent for his son. He now sees us as a threat. No doubt Rhaegar will agree. He is not an idiot. Rhaegar will gather every bit of force that he can."

"The Tyrells are the bulk of the Loyalists," Robert noted, motioning at his castle in Storm's End. "They are busy with Stannis."

Jon nodded. "And we can hope that Stannis can keep them busy." He grabbed ten sun pieces from the wooden box on the table. "We are not worried about the Tyrells. Stannis should be worried about them. They have the food, not the fighters. Rhaegar is no doubt being sent to Sunspear."

"The Dornish army will rival all of us in numbers..." Ned said slowly.

"You can't be sure that Rhaegar can convince them over. Not after the way he disrespected Elia at Harrenhal. And after he's proven he would rape another man's Lady before he'd share a bed with his own princess wife," Robert pressed.

"I suppose if the rumors are true, then Dorne would not come to his aid," Ned said, a bit snidely. He did not believe Lyanna was kidnapped. But he did wonder why she would run away.

"Ned, it is no rumor. I will have no more of that," Robert seethed.

"No matter," Jon interrupted, waving them off. "We will march on the kingsroad with intentions of taking King's Landing. Rhaegar will make the mistake of meeting us in the field when he should have stayed in the Red Keep. And when he does. We will defeat him."

"Defeat rests on Rhaegar's fall," Lord Tully noted. "The numbers may look similar now that Dorne is in the fold, but we cannot depend on Tywin Lannister joining us. The Dornishmen will overpower us with their calvary. The army will fall apart without their prince... who would they be fighting for? Rhaegar must fall on the field. Or be captured. He is the difference."

"No one needs to worry about that," Robert assured, his voice grim. "The moment he meets me in battle, the Dragon Prince will be no more."