Thanks for pointing out the mistakes. I have sadly fallen ill, am really tired and rushed to get this chapter out. Please also keep in mind, with work starting again I have have a lot less time to write. Expect to get maybe one or two chapters a week from now.
Comments and reviews would be greatly appreciated. :)
283 AC – Starfall
pov Eddard Stark
Starfall rose before them like a dream—white stone shimmering under the rising sun, perched on a cliff that overlooked the meeting of river and sea. For Ned, it was not a welcome sight. Not truly. He had left too many ghosts in the South.
They rode through the gates quietly. No songs, no banners. Only the wind off the Torrentine River and the creaking of saddles. Arthur rode ahead, leading them home after so many years. Ned, Elia, and the others followed, wearied by war and grief.
As they dismounted, the gates of the keep opened—and there she was.
Ashara Dayne.
She stood tall despite the weight of months apart from her brother, from her princess, from the father of her child. She wore violet, her dark hair wind-tossed. Her face was thinner than before, the curve of her cheek more defined, but her eyes were unchanged—those deep, soulful eyes that had haunted Ned through battlefield and storm.
"Elia," she breathed.
The Princess of Dorne broke into a run.
They collided like sisters long parted, Ashara's arms wrapping around Elia, who held her tightly as tears finally spilled. Ned looked away, giving them space, but not before seeing Arthur turn his face as well, his lips pressed tight. Oswell and Gerold stood nearby, silent sentinels in the warm dawn.
"I thought you were dead," Ashara whispered, pulling back just enough to cup Elia's face.
"I was close. But your knight of the North and his maddening brother saved me."
Ashara turned then, her gaze locking with Ned's. She approached slowly, her hand pressing to her chest.
"I didn't know if you'd ever come back."
"I had to," Ned said softly. "Not just for Lyanna..."
"Come," she said, voice trembling with restrained joy and worry. "You need to meet someone."
She led him inside, Elia following close, and up through the corridors to a sun-washed solar.
Inside, a young girl with silver-lavender eyes and a head of thick black curls sat upon a woolen blanket. Alysanne Sand, barely a year old, gurgled as she beat her small fists against a wooden toy carved in the shape of a sword.
"This is her?" Ned asked, almost in disbelief.
"Yes," Ashara said, pride and fear mingling in her voice. "Alysanne. Our daughter."
Ned knelt beside her, breath caught in his chest. The child looked up at him and blinked, curious and unafraid.
He reached out slowly. She grasped his finger.
"I should have come sooner," he murmured.
"You came. That's all that matters," Ashara replied. Then, after a moment of silence, "What now, Eddard?"
He rose to his feet, glancing at the others—Elia, Arthur, Oswell, Gerold.
"We carry too many truths with us," he said. "But if we are to survive this new world, some of those truths must be hidden."
Gerold Hightower nodded solemnly. "Then it's time."
"We will offer our cloaks to the new king," Arthur said. "If he accepts them, we will be free of our oaths. Oswell has decided to take his lordship of Harrenhal now that all his male family members are dead. Gerold and I ask to go north with my sister and my niece, Lord Stark"
"I see no problem with that, it will be an honour to host the Sword of the Morning and the White Bull" Eddard replied.
Ashara turned to Ned. "And what of Jon?"
"He will come with me. As my son. But… not as my trueborn."
Elia stepped forward. "You know that Catelyn may see him as a threat, she was raised in the Riverlands where they are often the most hateful towards bastards. You must tell her the truth. If not now, then one day."
Ned clenched his jaw but said nothing and looked again at the girl now cooing in the sunlight. His daughter. His secret. And then beyond the window, to the sky.
"I will tell her. When the time is right."
Ashara touched his hand. "Just don't wait too long. The truth has a way of surfacing… whether we're ready or not."
**Scene Break**
The throne room in King's Landing was quieter than usual, the echo of boots on stone cutting through the silence as Eddard Stark entered with purpose. Behind him trailed Ser Arthur Dayne, holding a squirming, blanket-wrapped child in his arms, and Ashara, who cradled a girl not yet two years old, dark-haired and bright-eyed. Elia had not come with them out of fear Robert would order her death once he learnt from Lyanna's death.
Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne, one leg thrown lazily over the other. His beard had grown thicker since the war, but his eyes were still sharp, still waiting to see ghosts behind every gesture. Besides him stood Tywin Lannister and Barristan Selmy aswell as a new kingsguard, Osmund Kettleblack.
Ned knelt, though the stiffness in his limbs protested it. "Your Grace." He coudn't wait to be back home.
Robert smiled, rising with surprising grace. "Ned. Gods, it's good to see you in one piece." He stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder before his gaze shifted to the bundle in Arthur's arms.
"....Where's Lyanna, Ned?" Robert asked but Ned simply shook his head. Robert growled, the hatred clear in his eyes.
"Those damn Targaryens... I have half the mind to order the deaths of all of them... but I will be satisfied if you take them to that frozen wasteland of yours and never come back"
"His name is Jon. I… I sired him during the war. His mother died in childbed."
A pause. A beat of silence stretched as Robert looked down at the boy. Jon blinked up at him with dark gray eyes and downy black hair. Robert seemed to study Jon very intently and Ned began to fear that Robert would suspect something.
"Dark-haired little thing," Robert said, his voice and face finally softening. "Looks like you."
"Thank the gods for that," Ned replied, managing a tight smile.
"And this one?" Robert turned toward Ashara and the girl in her arms. The child burbled happily, oblivious to thrones and kings.
"Alysanne," Ned said. "My daughter. Ashara Dayne and I—our paths crossed during Harrenhal. We mean to raise her in Winterfell."
Robert's eyes widened, flicking between Ashara and the child, then back to Ned.
"Well. That's… unexpected." He let out a short laugh. "You always were the quiet one, Ned. Turns out you were hiding more than honor under that cloak of yours."
There was no malice in the words, only surprise—and a touch of admiration.
Robert's gaze lingered on Alysanne for a long moment. "She's got the Dayne eyes," he muttered. "No mistaking that."
Arthur said nothing, but his hand rested protectively on Ashara's shoulder.
Robert finally turned back to Jon. "What will you do with them?"
"They're mine," Ned repeated. "They will be raised alongside my trueborn children just like Torrhen and Lyarra were with me and our siblings. Nothing will happen, I can assure you."
"I believe you," Robert said, but the flicker of suspicion in his eye didn't vanish completely. "Let's hope your lady wife does too."
Ned's stomach tightened. "I'll speak with her when I return north."
Robert nodded. Then, after a pause: "They'll have lands, won't they? Those children?"
"Alysanne is mine," Ned said again, firmly. "And Jon is blood. I'll not let them want for name or home. Maybe Moat Cailin, or Queenscrown though the Night's Watch might have to be compensated. We could also use a proper port on the West Coast. I will decide once he is grown."
Robert looked at him for a long time. Finally, he grunted. "Fine. Fine. Do as you must, Stark. You've earned it. Just… make sure the realm doesn't hear whispers that could undo all we've built. I trust in you to make sure the Targaryens don't get any ideas."
He stepped back to the Iron Throne, slumping into it like a man exhausted. "The war is over. Let it stay that way."
Ned bowed once more. "As you say, Your Grace."
Then Arthur, Gerold and Oswell stepped forward and knelt before Robert, "Your grace, we would like to offer you our whitecloaks and ask for lenient punishment."
"Hmpf... just get out of my sight. What do you plan to do now Sword of the Morning?"
"Oswell plans to take his rightful lordship of Harrenhal while Gerold and I plan to go into exile in the north" Arthur said, his head bowed.
"Very well. I, Robert the first of his name, declare that Oswell Whent, Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower are released from their oaths of the kingsguard. Oswell Whent will be allowed to take his seat of Harrenhal while Gerold Hightower and Arthur Dayne are sent into exile in the North."
**Scene Break**
283 AC - Winterfell
pov Catelyn Stark
The gates of Winterfell stood tall against the gray northern sky, banners flapping as the first flakes of snow danced on the wind. It was late autumn, but winter's breath had already begun to creep through the woods and stone.
From atop the walls, smallfolk and servants crowded for a glimpse of their returning lord. Maester Walys stood with a furred cloak tight around his shoulders, and beside him, a woman with auburn hair and a babe in her arms watched the growing procession on the Kingsroad.
Catelyn's posture was proud, but her eyes searched the travelers with quiet worry. She had been alone too long, tending a keep not her own, mothering a son whose father had gone to war.
The gates opened.
Winterfell welcomed her husband with the hush of falling snow and the thunder of hooves on packed earth.
Ned dismounted first. Catelyn's gaze swept the riders, her expression still composed.
"My lady," Ned said, stepping forward, his voice soft but sure.
"My lord," she replied, curtseying. "Come, before anything, meet your son. I have so far not named him anything for I knew you would wish the honor"
Ned carefully took their son from her arms and held him, his gaze immediately filling with wonder, "Robb.. his name shall be Robb" her husband finally said and she nodded. It made sense for him to name his firstborn in honour of his foster brother and their new king.
"I am sure his grace will be pleased once he hear about your decision" she said and looked at the children behind him, then back to her husband. "You've brought company."
"I have," he said. "We have much to speak of. But first—"
He turned, and Arthur stepped forward with Jon in his arms. The child was dozing, dark curls across his forehead, one fist tucked under his chin.
"This is Jon," Ned said. "My son. His mother died during the war. I've sworn to raise him under my protection."
Catelyn's lips thinned not liking the news at all. "I see."
"I would not bring him here lightly," Ned added. "But I would not leave him behind."
"And the girl?" she asked cool, nodding toward Ashara, who now stepped forward, her veil lowered.
"This is Ashara Dayne," Ned said, his voice gentler now. "And this… is Alysanne. My daughter."
Catelyn's breath caught — whether at the sight of the child or the words, he could not say. Two bastards... he had brought two bastards home... she knew she couldn't really say anything out in the open but she would have words with him later. The girl she could stomach, she was conceived before Ned and Catelyn had married and was no threat to Robb but the boy had to go.
For a moment, only the wind spoke.
Then Catelyn gave a small nod as a resounding slap was heard throughout the courtyard. She looked to the side and saw a boy holding his cheek as Lyarra stood in front of him, visibly fuming, "How could you be so stupid, Torrhen?? After everything that happened you nearly throw your life away playing hero???" the bastard girl shouted.
So that must be the other bastard who lived then Catelyn thought with a sniff. Unnatural though their presence was, Catelyn had to admit that Lyarra had been nothing but kind to her so far and helped her settle in Winterfell so she would reserve judgement of Torrhen until he showed her what kind of person he would be. Lyarra then took her twin brother's arm and forcefully dragged him away.
Catelyn's gaze followed to what must have been Elia Martell with a little girl standing besides her and a young babe in her arms.
She had of course heard of the valiant defense of her husband, Ser Jamie and others against a monster of a man called Gregor Clegane who people had started to call the mountain. She feared what the Targaryens' survival would mean for the future but atleast Elia Martell had been shackled with her betrothal to Torrhen.
A soft cry interrupted them — Alysanne Sand reaching for the cold sky, her tiny fingers grasping at nothing.
Jon stirred too, as if sensing his place had changed forever.
"Winterfell is open to them," Catelyn said, quieter now. "But you and I will speak of this. In time."
"We will," Ned said, and bowed his head.
From the walls, the Stark banners flew proudly while beneath them, a new kind of family was being forged.
**Scene Break**