Another thing I've had sitting around for a while. The tags are as they appear. If you aren't okay with that then don't read please. This is a test for me, to see if I can do non-anime stuff. I've taken some liberties, so just roll with them please.

Rheagar Targaryen

As the hammer swung, he knew it was the end, and time crawled to a stand still. The sun shined down, reflecting off the waters of the trident in the distance, just as it did from the weapon wielded by Robert Baratheon.

He knew that he would die here today, that his family would not rule again for years to come. But the dragons would rise, three heads bringing fire and blood once more.

The Crown Prince was thankful for his foresight, the gift his blood gave him. It had waned over the centuries, same as the magic of the world slowly had since the doom of Valyria.

The obsession over prophecies stemmed from the flashes in his dreams, the things he would see that had yet to come. The scenes were never very clear, often hazy enough to be nearly indistinguishable.

He had been a fool, to believe himself to be the Prince who was promised. That was only further compounded by the very nature of their origin…Tragedy.

What tragedy had he, a rich noble who'd one day be king, with the world at his fingertips, ever experienced?

No prophecy began from the safety of a palace. Isolation, despair, betrayal, a looming threat of overwhelming strength and impossible odds, these were the workings of a prophecy.

The prince knew that his son would be the man to bear this burden. He had seen it vividly. A figure clad in black, his sword raised, red and lit aflame. The heavy snows of the long night carried by harsh winds.

At his side were two women, one familiar and the other not. To the right was his Rhaenys, for that dark brown hair with streams of silver-blonde were all too familiar. She stood tall, proud, and fierce in the face of the hazy winds of snow and ice.

The other, while not familiar to him, was clearly of his blood. Long braided silver-blonde tresses, slim build standing with the determination of one ready to draw steel against flesh. This had to be the soon to be Visenya, his third child, and second daughter.

That image brought more pride to him, than anything ever had. Aegon, his son, would defeat the darkness and bring the dawn.

He wished he had been able to see the grown face of his eldest son, but alas it was not to be. He had only ever seen the back of the black hood that had been pulled up.

What he wouldn't have given to be able to gift them with the petrified eggs he had managed to procure from Valyria on their name days, the creatures that their namesakes brought the seven kingdoms to heel, bringing with them a new age of prosperity.

The heavy hammer connected with his breastplate, sending the embedded rubies into the waters, as his chest was brutally caved in.

Rhaeger looked into the enraged face of his killer, Robert Baratheon.

Ours is the Fury were the stags house words, and they were fitting. The Heir to Storms End was a tall and heavily muscled man, jet black hair and piercing blue eyes that spoke nothing but hate.

As his back met the ground beneath, his breath left him. He could not say nor hear anything, as his mind drifted to the Dornish tower holding three of his treasures.

His eldest daughter Rhaenys, Lyanna his wife, and their yet to be born child. Sweet Rhaenys had taken to Lyanna immediately. Watching his wolf of a wife play with her spoke volumes of the mother she would be.

Rhaeger wished he had been able to move Elia and Aegon to the tower of Joy as well. But Elia had turned ill once more, and Aegon too young to be far from his mother. He would just have to believe that his remaining friends in the capitol would move them to safety.

His Mother Rhaella, had been close to delivering her child, when last he saw her. Her treatment at his fathers hands had brought him endless guilt, because he saw no way to end it without becoming a kinslayer. And a kinslayer would not have the peoples love and respect, Noble or otherwise, even if it was the right and just thing to do.

He could only rely on his friends and allies once more. Rhaeger felt his eyes closing, never again to open.


Eddard Stark

This was not how it was supposed to be, not was he was fighting for. Roberts rebellion had been about justice, not about overthrowing the Targaryens. The things that his so-called brother had allowed to happen, were beyond deplorable.

Thousands of lives had been needlessly lost in this conflict, and it had made the new Lord of Winterfell take a closer look at his closest friend.

The beginning of the rebellion had been about the murder of Rickard and Brandon Stark, and the abduction of Lyanna Stark. Ned agreed with the need to seek justice for his father and brother, but Ned had only tried to bring up his sister once with Robert.

One would have to be blind to miss the way his sister and Rhaegar had looked at each other. It was very reminiscent of the way that Catelyn Tully had looked at Brandon.

There was little doubt in his mind, that there had been no kidnapping, instead that his sister had run away with the prince in defiance of her betrothal. Lyanna had always been strong willed and wanted to make her own decisions.

As he, Howland Reed and 5 others rode through Dorne towards the Tower of Joy, he readied himself.

Ned Stark was done with shedding blood unless absolutely necessary. Too many deaths weighed on his conscience. Elia Martell, and her babe Aegon amongst the heaviest to have occurred thus far.

The bloodied and defiled nature of the body of a small girl had not deceived him nor Howland. The one offered up as Rhaenys, was nothing more than a fake. Whatever Tywin Lannister was up to, it was nothing the northmen approved of.

The bannermen of the North present had agreed to keep this knowledge to themselves, especially after the sack of kings landing. How a ward of the ever honorable lord Arryn could condone such a thing was beyond any of them.

"Ned, how do you want to approach this?" Howland asked from beside him.

The Lord of Winterfell kept his gaze forward, as they rounded over a red sandy hill, their destination coming into view.

"I am tired of this war, my friend. The mad king is dead, justice for my family has been delivered. I only wish it had come at a lighter cost."

His storm grey eyes caught sight of what had been whispered through the southern kingdoms. In front of the tower, stood three men in white cloaks, silvery white scaled armor marking their particular standing in the realm.

The men of the kings guard were ready, having heard the approach, hands on the hilt of a blade, or two in the case of Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Stay back, but be prepared. I desire no harm for these men without cause."

His companions slowed their mounts to a slow trot before stopping as Ned rode closer.

He caught the gaze of Ser Gerold High-tower, the commander of the kings guard, as the man made to stand with Ser Arthur Dayne in the front, Ser Oswell Whent keeping his place nearest the stairs of the tower.

Ned hoped that this worked in his favor, for there the rumored greatest swordsman alive stood in front of him, along with his commander, who in his own right was more deadly than most.

He came to a stop, dismounted his horse, and made to stand to three full sword lengths away, in case things got heated enough to draw steel. This would hopefully be enough time for the others to join him in time.

"Greetings, Lord Stark." The voice of Ser Gerold was deep and etched with experience.

"And to you Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur." Ned returned, his voice neutral, but not unpleasant.

"You're a long way from the North, My Lord. Upon the last Raven we received, Robert Baratheon gave you leave to return to Winterfell, to your wife and your home."

Ned minutely rose a brow, only slightly surprised that word of the happenings in the capitol had reached them. The spider must have been the culprit, not surprising as he was the one to give confirmation of Lyannas location.

"Aye, he did. As far as the capitol is concerned, My men and I are sailing for White Harbor, only to be turned south by rumors of my sisters location."

His wording gained apprehensive expressions from the two knights, brown and violet eyes boring into him with an intensity that would make a lesser man cower.

Ned could see that the royal guard suspected he knew more then most of the kingdoms about the falsities told during the war, but were unsure of just how far that knowledge went, or how he'd obtained that insight.

"And the truth, Lord Stark?" Ser Arthur spoke.

The sword of the morning had been more observant during the tourney at Harrenhall, watching as his sister had conversed and danced with the Stark sons.

Brandon Stark had made a name for himself, as he dishonored women by the dozens, how a child hadn't come from his activities, he'd yet to decipher. Those with the blood of the First Men, were known to be more potent then average.

Ser Arthur had seen the Northern heir flirt and dance with his beloved sister, cautious anger bubbling underneath the surface.

When she had approached Eddard Stark, he had been close to approaching and stealing her away, lest she be caught in the clutches of the wolves of Winterfell for good.

To his surprise, Ned Stark did not flirt, or eye his sister like some conquest. He danced and conversed politely, only small smiles breaking the stoic face of the quiet wolf.

Arthur lowered his guard when he saw Brandon with his betrothed for a good portion of the evening, and Ned returned to his solitude after spending a fair amount of time with Ashara.

Learning his sister had been dishonored, and was carrying an illegitimate child had him ready to ride north and behead the second born Stark.

He would have, if Ashara hadn't told him that it wasn't Ned, but Brandon, who had just died under the Mad King.

His respect for the Lord of Winterfell had been elevated, as Ned had apparently warned Ashara of his brothers intentions. He wished she had listened.

She had not been in good health when they parted, her lover dead, her babe delivered stillborn. He prayed to the seven that she could fight off these demons, lest the grief consume her.

"The truth-" Ned started, slowly unsheathing Ice, his Valyrian steel great sword, causing the two kings guard to do the same.

Ned stabbed his blade into the ground, his eyes never leaving Ser Arthur or Ser Gerold.

"Unfortunately, is what the victors make it to be."

Blades lowered, the royal guard waited for more of an explanation, as Ned looked at them with haunted and tired grey eyes.

"The war I fought ended with the sword of Jaime Lannister through the back of the Mad King. The wrongs done to my family have been corrected, which is all I ever wanted."

Arthur Dayne sheathed one of his blades, keeping Dawn drawn, as his Lord Commander sheathed his own blade.

"And what of the Queen Regent?" The Dornish legend asked.

It had been well known that Robert Baratheon started his rebellion mainly for Lyanna Stark, even if he claimed it was because of what the Mad King did to the Warden of the North and his son, along with calling for the heads of the Arryn Wards.

The heir of the Storm lands was a selfish and lustful fool, letting his cock do most of his thinking outside of battle. Even then, his cock had decided to march into battles anyway, to claim the one he was promised.

Ned gave them a sad smile, as they had just confirmed his thoughts and suspicions.

"I'm to be an uncle, am I? Thousands of lives could have been saved if she had run away publicly, not keeping it secret."

Ned sighed, giving a small shake of his head.

"I love her dearly, but nothing with her is ever easy, as i'm sure you've found out." His remark was only met with slight nods.

To them, there was no point in hiding the fact that his sister was in fact here. He'd already known, and he had made no moves against them.

"I had wanted to bring her back to Winterfell, where I could keep her safe. Her being with child complicates matters. I fear she would not be safe there now, not after what Robert allowed with Princess Elia and her babe Aegon."

On that, they could all agree. In his blind rage, Robert had lost reason with anything regarding the Targaryens. Elia had not chosen to be wed to Rhaegar, but was killed for birthing the dragon spawn, as he called them. Lyanna would likely be no different, no matter how much Robert claimed to love her.

A painful scream, muffled yet echoing from the tower window, came across the plains. Ned stiffened, as the guards merely cast a glance in the direction.

At first, Ned thought she might have been attacked, until the rational part of his mind remembered who stood in front of him. These were the three best of the kings guard, not a force easily slipped passed.

That brought the only other conclusion to the forefront.

"She's birthing now?" He asked, his voice harsh and almost a whisper.

It was too soon. Lyanna had disappeared nought 9 moons ago. For a child to already be coming into the world, it must be early. Early enough were it might not survive.

Ned knew his sister well enough to know, that she would not lay with Rhaeger unless they had married. She may be wild and independent, but she was not stupid. The life of a bastard was not one she would wish upon her child.

"She is, the midwife arrived just this morning, thankfully." Ser Gerold answered.

Both men were about to speak up at the same time, before a young girls voice broke through.

"Ser Arthur! Ser Arthur!"

Oswell Whent tried to block the girl from view, and keep her from coming into view of the arrived party. Wavy dark brown locks, with a few silver strands breaking through, and a darker skin tone was all Ned could see for a moment, but it was enough.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his thoughts about the body presented in the throne room were correct.

The girl wiggled her way under Ser Oswell, prancing down the stairs with an innocence that warmed the heart. Her small body was fitted with a yellow dress that fluttered in the breeze of the hot Dornish climate.

"The spider?" Ned whispered to Gerold.

"Prince Rhaeger, but the spider helped to facilitate. I assume that is who told you as well?" Gerold asked.

Ned nodded. "Aye."

The girl continued her way towards her favorite of the knights present, as the men conversed quietly.

"The one presented as Princess Rhaenys, how close are they in appearance?" Gerold whispered.

Ned thought on that for a moment, as the eldest Targaryen child hugged Arthur Dayne like he was family.

"Only those who had seen her before, and looked closely, would be able to tell. She was too mutilated otherwise. Robert, myself, Tywin, and Varys were the only ones who saw the body, the others didn't want to see a child so young so defiled."

Ser Gerold nodded, as Rhaenys looked up to Arthur, and spoke loudly, typical of a child so young.

"Mama Lya asked for Uncle Ned again." Her high voice pierced through the hardened veil around Eddard Starks heart. The child being here was one thing, but to refer to his sister as another mother, proved that this had not been a kidnapping. There was an established relationship there.

"Is he here yet?" She questioned the sword of the morning, her light brown eyes glimmering in the hot sunlight.

"Aye, Princess, I am here." Ned said with a smile, getting a slight scowl from Arthur.

He couldn't blame the man. They had come to know that he wasn't here to fight over his sister, but had no idea what he might do with the knowledge of Rhaenys being here.

The girl snapped her head over, her hair flinging from her shoulders to her back, the silver strands becoming more apparent as they did.

She eyed him with a finality a girl of 4 name days should not possess, before smiling. Rhaenys let go of Arthur and skipped over to Ned, stopping just out of arms reach.

"You and Mama Lya look a lot alike." Her happy voice, her smile, it was so foreign to him over these last months that Ned almost didn't know how to act. The war had been bloody, and filled with atrocities that no man woman or child should witness.

She looked at him, as he imagined a true niece would, with love and curiosity of what his life had taught him. Ned went to one knee to level with the girl.

"Aye, she is my sister after all. You said she was asking for me?" He said in a soft tone, casting hard glances at the guards who ignored it.

Rhaenys gasped with a jump, having forgotten, once confronted with her newfound uncle.

"Yea! C'mon, this way!" She grabbed his hand, tugging him forward.

Ned barely had time to get his other foot on the ground, to avoid going face first into the dirt. He watched as Ser Oswell sighed and stepped aside, and Ser Arthur follow them closely. There was no point in keeping him out of the room now. Both the Princess and Queen Regent were giving him access, they had little room to argue.

If his sword had still been in his possession, they may have tried, but with it still standing point first in the ground, they did not.

The way Rhaenys bound up the steps, spoke of how many times she had done it since her time at the tower. They were weathered, some cracked and broken, a few missing completely. Still, Rhaenys never missed her footing.

A long and pained groan, followed by a muffled voice reached Neds ears, as they made the halfway point. Ned caught the scent of Iron, of blood, starting to filter through his nostrils.

Childbirth was not known to be a clean or pleasant experience for a woman, but should he be able to smell the blood from this far away? It seemed to him to be a bad omen.

Another yell, more pained, yet less filled with life spurned him forward. Ned had to remind himself that Lyanna was a strong woman, she'd always been strong. Childbirth would not have her meeting the gods.

The Iron in the air, as they came to the door was so strong that Ned could almost taste it. He stopped, bringing Rhaenys to a halt with him. She looked back questioningly, wondering why he wasn't moving anymore.

"Please Princess, wait here." Ned urged. If things were as bad as his gut was telling him it might be, she should not bear witness to it. The words were hard to come through his lips, as he dare not believe it himself.

But he had been through enough battles to know when the smell was this potent that it spoke of death, or one soon to come. His heart beat in his chest wildly, his hands sweaty, and eyes having a hard time not shaking.

Ser Arthur came close, placing his hands on the girls shoulders, giving Ned a solemn nod, likely having come to the same conclusion.

Rhaenys pouted, an expression that threatened his resolve. "But I want to see my new Brother or Sister."

If there had been any doubts in his mind before, they were gone now. This girl needed to be protected, just as his sisters child would have to be. The actions of her family were not for Rhaenys to answer to, she was just a child.

But Robert wouldn't care. He would hunt her down regardless, if he knew she still lived. Tywin Lannister would probably already have spies on the prowl looking for her to keep his failure from being known.

"Once the babe is ready, okay?" His throat had a lump growing that was getting harder to deny.

She nodded with her still in place pout, and Ned turned to enter the tower.

Once the door had been opened and closed behind him, Ned felt an almost unbearable urge cover his nose with a cloth. There was no more doubt about what was to come for his beloved sister.

His steps were hurried through the first room, where only a table, a few chairs and a bookcase were held. The second contained a small bed, that he assumed Rhaenys had occupied, a few of her toys scattered along the floor.

The third room ended up being his true destination, he heard the soft voices, scuffling of feet on stone before he entered it.

The sob almost broke loose before he could stop it, as he stepped inside. There she was, with a midwife and a wet-nurse by her side. Even with the sweaty and sickly pallor, his sister was still a beauty to behold, her pained and frightened expression taking away none of that.

And the blood, there was so much that Ned wondered how she'd stayed awake through all of it. But that was Lyanna, strong and stubborn and wild. Her grey eyes opened and caught sight of him before the other women noticed he'd entered.

From her belly down, the bedding was turned crimson. Her favorite blue flower, the winter rose scattered around her, did nothing to take away the horror in front of him.

"Ned…" She whispered, and he couldn't help the tear that rolled down his cheek.

He rushed to her side, kneeling to her left and taking her hand in both of his.

"I'm here sister."

Her smile was shallow, using all the strength that remained in her to do that much. The smile faded, as her shoulders started to shake, quiet sobs coming through her.

"It's really you? You're not a dream?"

"I'm really here Lya. I'm with you."

Her sobs became less controlled, as her hand squeezed his with all she had left.

"I missed you big brother."

Ned would have wanted to wipe his own tears, but comforting his sister was more important.

"I've missed you too." He whispered.

"I want to be brave." Her voice was losing its volume even more.

Ned brought a hand up to wipe her sweat and tears away from her eyes.

"You are."

She tried to shake her head, but didn't have the strength.

"I'm not. I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die." The words were bitter on his tongue, knowing that they were most likely false, before he turned to one of the women.

"Get her some water." He ordered. The mid-wife looked about to comply before Lyanna argued.

"No, no water."

"Is there a maester?" Ned asked loudly towards the two women.

"Listen to me Ned." His sister whispered, and he had to lean in to hear.

"His name…Is…Aegon Targaryen. Protect him, Ned. You have to…Promise me. Promise me Ned."

Ned pulled his head back, eyes locked on Lyanna's, watching as the life in them slowly left.

He nodded, and he watched as she smiled, the midwife bringing the new born babe for him to hold.

"Robert can't find out. He'd kill my boy, you know he would." Lyanna said as Ned stared at his nephew, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.

When the babe opened his eyes, Ned let out a breath of relief, for the Targaryen trait was not there. His nephew looked as Stark as any newborn could be.

Dark hair, eyes like that of an impending storm. The door was opened, letting light seep in, and Ned lost the remaining air in his lungs at what he saw.

Violet, it was small but still there, and likely to only become more apparent as the boy aged. It was like there were small bolts of purple lightning in the babes eyes, in the places where the veins lay underneath.

Ned looked up to Lyanna, to see her staring at him, her eyes glazed. He looked back down, the boy ever silent in his arms, no crying or fussing. Just a curious and somehow solemn gaze from those orbs.

Ned noticed out of his peripheral, that Lyanna hadn't moved an inch, and looked back to her.

He almost wished he hadn't. Her gaze was fixed, body still, no breath being taken. She was dead. His sister had died, and he was too preoccupied with his observations of his nephew to notice.

Shifting the boy into one arm, Ned closed his sisters eyes, grasped her hand tightly and wept silently, just as was expected of the quiet wolf. He had no idea how long he stayed in that position. His nephew hadn't made a peep, only shifting ever so slightly once ever few minutes.

Boots clanked on the stone floor towards him, but Ned ignored them, fully expecting it to be Arthur Dayne. He found he was right, as the knight got to one knee beside the opposite side of her bed, his violet eyes surprisingly saddened.

The sword of the morning closed his eyes and bowed his head, whispering the prayer of the new gods for those who've passed on. Ned was pulled from any wondering thoughts, as shouting and the sound of clashing steel echoed from outside.

The two men stood, Arthur more quickly as Ned still held his nephew delicately. Large strides brought them down the spiral staircase along the tower quickly, finding Rhaenys cowering at the last turn before reaching ground.

The men passed her by, Arthur drawing his blades with a scowl at what he was seeing. Howland Reed was bellowing out for their riding companions to stop, as one was cut down by Oswell Whent with a blade through the chest.

Neds eyes took in the scene in confused horror, unable to determine who had started the fight, or why.

With only 4 left, and the sword of the morning entering the fray, he knew without a doubt who would quickly claim victory. Ser Arthur parried with dawn on the right, and slashed upwards on the left, cutting from thigh to chest on one of his men. Ned repeated the words of his friend, but none heard him.

He was not about to run into it himself, not with a babe in arm. As much as it pained him to do so, he could do nothing but watch and yell, trying to get the men to stand down.

Ser Gerold brought his greatsword down with a force that his opponent was unable to block, cleaving through the shoulder and chest, leaving the man to die only seconds later as the blood pooled around him.

Ser Oswell cut another down quickly, just as the last pair took arms against Arthur Dayne. The sword of the morning spun his blades in hand, ready to show the folly of their decision.

The two northmen, bearing no discernible sigils, rushed with ragged battlecries, Swords poised high from each side. One from the left, the other from the right, the blades were met and batted away.

If they had been well fed and rested, the men may have fared longer. As they were; tired, hungry and worn from months of fighting, the men were nothing but greenhorns to their opponent.

Ser Arthur spun left quickly, as soon as their blades were halted. His grip on Dawn tight, as his arm swung neck level with great force. Valyrian steel met the inferior counterpart only a moment too late, as the blade angled back towards the wielder.

His own blade bit into his shoulder, the man had no time to cry out, as dawn went through his neck cleanly. Dawn kept sailing through the air, as the head rolled from shoulder to dirt, meeting the other longsword to a dead stop.

The fight was over, when the second blade of Ser Arthur was buried into the mans belly. Eyes wide, gasping for breath, he fell to his knees, as he was released from his impalement. Another swipe of dawn left him headless as well, and silence reigned for a time.

As the knights looked to Howland, Ned looked behind him towards the steps. He came to the edge, where he could see Rhaenys trying to bury herself into the side of tower. She shuddered as the sound of his first steps came, and he stopped after the second stair.

"Would you like to meet your brother Princess?" Ned asked gently, trying to hold a comforting smile on his face, even as everything inside him screamed in agony.

Slowly, the girl peeked from the side, afraid to see someone with steel aimed at her. When all she saw was him and a bundle in his arm, she turned around fully, letting Ned see the tears flooding her eyes.

Wiping away her tears with her arm, Rhaenys nodded, still sniffling. Ned slowly made his way up the stairs towards her. She let her legs drop to sit on the edge of her stair, as Ned knelt down to her level.

While Ned waited for Rhaenys to compose herself, he looked her over. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how Robert could want such a sweet and innocent child killed.

If she was anything like her mother, and through their very short time together he believed she was, Rhaenys was nothing but sweet kind and curious. He could only base this from stories heard over the years, but he believed them after seeing her at the tourney.

Those copper eyes were immensely expressive, and spoke of knowledge and understanding beyond her years. Her trembling smile conveyed her bittersweet happiness of finally meeting her brother.

"Can I hold him Uncle Ned?" She asked quietly.

Robert would have him beheaded for his thoughts of this moment, but Ned couldn't come to truly care. A wolf may be wild, and viscous, but they protected their own no matter what.

With nothing more than a few words, Rhaenys had become just that, a part of his dying pack. He was the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North now, the head of his family, of his pack. It was he who decided who joined, and if the Princess considered herself a part of it, he felt no reason to deny her.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Those were the true words of house Stark. It echoed how the people of the North were. They were loyal to their own, and when winter poked its head from the horizon, they banded together to ensure the safety of the pack. Winter is coming was just easier for everyone else to remember.

"Of course Rhaenys." He hadn't meant to drop her title, it just slipped out after his own internal thoughts. She didn't seem to mind, if anything her smile seemed less hesitant now.

Slowly and gently, Ned placed the babe in her arms, briefly showing her how best to hold him. Her brother had fallen asleep after the fight, and didn't wake upon being placed in his sisters arms.

His head turned, smacking his lips briefly, but was otherwise still. Ned wondered why the babe had been so quiet throughout all of this. To his knowledge, newborns were supposed to cry and flail, none of which happened.

He watched her gaze at him with all the love and wonder in the world, as her small finger played at the curl of black hair on his tiny head. Ned placed a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention gently.

"Keep him safe for me Princess, I'll be back in a moment." She seemed enchanted by him, as she hadn't taken her eyes away before replying.

"Okay Uncle."

Ned returned to the scene where his men had died, for something he did not yet know. Howland stood firm, arms crossed and looking frustrated towards the bodies on the floor, as the kingsguard each held one blade in hand lazily.

"Howland, what happened?" He asked, as the distance was closed, and Ned came to pass by the knights.

Howland Reed took a breath, removing his eyes from the death in front of him, moving them to his friend and commander.

"Fools, the lot of them. Must've forgotten why we were here in the first place." He grumbled.

"After Ser Arthur followed you, this one-" Howland pointed to the body with his shoulder tearing from the rest of his torso. "Said he smelt blood, accused the guard of attacking you in the tower."

The man sighed, feeling as Ned did on the loss of more life for no real reason.

"They attacked, couldn't get them to stop no matter how loud I yelled. I'm sorry Ned, but I felt that drawing my own sword would have only added to the chaos."

Ned looked over to the knights, Gerold and Oswell nodding, saying that had indeed been the events as they unfolded. He could not take back what happened, and apologizing was useless when the knights went unscathed. Those who had wronged them were dead, that was better than anything he could say to them.

"More needless death" His voice was getting hoarse, from his grief over Lyanna, the sandy air or the dry climate he wasn't sure.

"Where is the king, Lord Stark?" Ser Gerold asked, as he sheathed his blade.

Ned nodded his head towards the steps. "In the hands of my niece."

While Ser Arthur gave a small smile, Gerold, Oswell and Howland looked confused.

"Your niece?" Howland leveled an unreadable look upon him, Ned only nodded.

"Aye. The Princess has deemed it fit to call me her uncle. Who am I to refuse the child of my sisters husband?" Ned watched as Howland went wide eyed at that statement.

"Forgive me Lord Stark for the callous question. How fairs the Queen Regent?"

As the words passed through Ser Oswells lips, Neds face dropped, his eyes conveying the sorrow he was trying hard to keep concealed. Only a shake of his head was necessary.

The two knights who hadn't been up there to see for themselves, bowed their heads in brief prayer, while Howland laid a sympathetic hand on Neds shoulder.

After their moment of silence and prayer, the men gathered looked between each other, knowing that a plan now needed to be formed for where to go from here. The rightful king was merely an infant, and extremely vulnerable. His sister was only a few years older.

They still had some Targaryen family left, but they were hold up in Dragonstone, which would most likely continue to be under siege for months. And if Robert had any say, none inside with Valyrian blood would leave alive.

"My sister made me promise to protect him." Ned said, breaking the silence that reigned.

The knights did not take that too well, as told by the looks on their faces.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Ser Gerold asked coldly.

Ned hadn't really thought of anything just yet, at least not anything good. He had a duty to the North, and he meant to carry that out. But he was compelled to this task as well, he could not pass it to another.

"I could…claim him as my own, raise him Winterfell where he'd be trained and educated." Ned was just thinking on the fly, and knew that this plan had many cons to it. First and foremost, his wife Catelyn.

"The life of a bastard, is no life for the rightful King." Ser Oswell said, putting in his own opinion.

"Catelyn is a proud and noble woman Ned. She will not take this lightly, she's a Tully through and through." Howland added.

"Aye" Ned knew each of these things to be true. His nephew did not deserve to be raised as a bastard, but he had no other ideas on how to keep his promise. As for Catelyn, Howland was right, she would hate this. He wasn't sure if that would translate into her hating him, the babe, or both for the rest of her days.

She lived and breathed her houses words, family, duty, honor. If Ned brought the boy to Winterfell, that would be a strike against all three in her mind. Ned would have dishonored his wife, who was half of the family he had left beside Benjen. He would have broken his duty to her by not remaining faithful.

Arthur glanced back for a moment, towards the stairs, clearly deep in thought. When he turned back to Ned, there was a hopeful glint in his violet eyes.

"Lord Stark, the king is dark of hair, yes?"

Ned nodded to the question, unsure of where this was going.

"And his eyes?"

Howland took that moment to give voice to something that Ned would rather forget.

"Ned, you realize that every moment your…Niece and Nephew draw breath, Robert Baratheon will consider to be treason…Right?"

The knights moved on instinct, hands tight on their blades, shifting to ready positions. Ned looked over to his friend, seeing no desire to comply with his would be brothers request, merely a statement of fact.

"Aye, but I will not condemn a child for actions they are not responsible for. Whatever Tywin Lannister has whispered into Roberts ear of power and glory, it has changed him. I will not have a repeat of Kings Landing on my watch."

"And I agree, but whatever is to be done, must be done carefully and quietly. The less who know, the safer we shall all be in the end." Howland added, and Everyone present knew him to be right.

"His eyes mostly resemble Lyanna, but there are streaks of violet present, I worry it will only shift further as he ages." Ned answered Arthur, the knights easing their stances.

"We could take the king to Ashara. Her babe was stillborn, and the violet could be explained as Dayne traits. She's been locked in her room, I was the first to see her in weeks last I visited, no ones knows the news of her daughter."

Ned visibly recoiled at hearing that. Ashara did not deserve how his brother had treated her, and for the results to be as disastrous as Arthur relayed..It brought him near physical pain. Had things been different, he would not have been opposed to the whispers of his father setting a marriage between them. Although, the infatuation between her and Brandon would have undoubtedly brought tension.

He thought on the idea Arthur had for a moment. His ideal way of keeping the boy safe would have meant taking him to Winterfell. Perhaps he could persuade her to come to Winterfell as a handmaiden?

No… Not only would there be too many memories of Brandon for her there, Catelyn would assume his actions were because the babe was his, then her ire would be cast upon Ashara as well. The woman had been through enough, she did not need that.

Arthur, blades sheathed, stepped up to Ned to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Please. She needs this. It may not be her own but she won't care, and he will keep her grounded. She'll throw everything into raising him right, and Dorne does not carry the same stigma against bastards as the other kingdoms."

The way Arthur spoke, the desperation, told Ned of how poorly Ashara was faring. He must fear that she would end her own life, to be pleading as he was.

"Will I be able to see him?" Ned asked, looking straight in the eyes of the most deadly swordsman alive.

Arthur smiled brightly and genuinely, at having a hope for saving his sister from herself. "Family of his is family of hers, she would never keep you away."

Ned nodded, giving a heavy sigh at what he was going to do. Lyanna hadn't specified on how to keep him safe, but this seemed a safer way. He just hoped that if she was watching from above, she wouldn't disapprove.

"What of the Princess then?" Ser Oswell asked.

And just like that, each of the men were brought back to the hard reality they resided in.

"Westeros isn't safe for her. Too many people will be able to recognize her, she's too unique." Ned said. Because who else would have a Dornish skin tone, with silver streams in her hair? Even if they regularly acquired the dye to change it, the chances for exposure were too great. No, she had to be brought elsewhere.

"Agreed." Ser Gerold spoke with a heavy tone. He didn't like the thought of having her flee her home country any more than the others, but he knew that Ned was right.

The quiet wolf turned, and without a word further went back to the Princess. Her tears had dried, though her eyes still looked red and bleary. She held onto her brother like he was the only comfort left for her in this world, gently rocking him with a small smile on her face.

The girl was a gem, and he wished that things had gone differently, that she wasn't about to be torn from the last of her direct family. But for the sake of her safety, it had to be done.

"Uncle Ned, what's his name?" she asked, bringing her copper eyes to him.

Ned opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. Should his nephew continue to hold the name Aegon, he would be immediately discovered as a Targaryen and their work would be for nothing, so Ned had to give him a new one.

"Jon" He said simply. It felt right, as to Ned the name was a symbol of the man of honor who had tutored himself. With the right guidance, his nephew could grow to be much the same, honorable and just.

Eddard Stark was not the naive boy he'd been whilst at the Vale, he knew there would be more wars to come, even if he detested the thought. The chances of conflict over the very children he was looking at, were high. The best way to protect yourself from those in power, was to take that seat of power from them. This entire rebellion had taught him that.

He would do whatever he could to prolong the start of said conflict, and to prepare those who would be involved as best he was able. It would take a considerable amount of time, and an even larger amount of trust between those at the center of it; The Kingsguard, Howland Reed, himself, and possibly Ashara Dayne.

"Your brother's name is Jon."

Rhaenys looked down towards her brother, leaning forward and placing a light kiss on to the forehead of the sleeping infant king. Ned heard her as she whispered a promise to love him for the rest of their lives. He hoped, that she meant as a sister, and not in the typical Targaryen fashion.

He would give her a few more moments before he had to break the news of the impending separation, she deserved at least that much. As the sun descended in the sky, it marked the end of the 283rd year after Aegons conquest. Ned prayed that the gods would bring peace for his family in the years to come.

All of his family, the Targaryen additions included. He felt they were owed that much, after all the loss that had been brought to the Starks of Winterfell.