The Prologue to a Larger Story

Eddard-I

The trees were not near as ancient as the ones in Winterfell's Godswood, and while up North the woods seemed almost alive, here there was little more than the pervasive feeling of death, very much like the crypts that housed the Stark Kings of old. Every inch of Harrenhal was foreboding and depressing in equal measure; it was nothing short of a miracle in his mind that the members of House Whent could call this monstrosity a home.

Even the loneliness of the Eyrie had more cheer than the burnt halls once ruled by Harren the Black. Gods he missed Winterfell, it seemed the south had less to offer him every day.

"Ned," her voice was sweet, like a melody, but her smile was sad and fleeting. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder as she moved to sit his side, beneath a bone white heart tree with a bitter red smile. "Are you okay? What the prince has done with Lyanna, it was, well it wasn't proper." The concern in her voice was genuine, although she struggled with the words, if unsure how to bring up what happened.

It was no surprise; half the realm was talking about the mockery Rhaegar made of his pregnant wife at the tourney. Making a mockery of Princess Elia before the entire kingdom, and spreading untrue rumors of Lyanna's decency in the process. Every servant in Harrenhal was calling Lyanna a whore under their breath; little was spoken of Rhaegars folly, however.

Ned had made the mistake of looking at Ashara; she was beautiful, far too beautiful to look at a northern second son with anything other than kindness and pity. Even so, he couldn't help what he felt, yet had no desire to shame himself by chasing what he couldn't have, regardless of what Brandon had suggested.

"Shouldn't you be with Elia," he asked, perhaps sounding far more bitter then he intended if the hurt in her violet eyes was any indication.

"Elia is a grown woman," the implication being that he wasn't a grown man, "and besides, I want to be with you, I cannot imagine how your family feels."

He looked out at the woods, not trusting himself to not stare at the beautiful woman by his side. "Worried," he responded after a moment, "Father isn't sure what to do, and Brandon is in a rage, not to mention Lyanna. She's just as afraid as the rest of us I fear." That scared him more than anything else in truth, he had never seen Lyanna afraid before, and he never wanted to again. He wished to hold his sister, to promise her that he wouldn't let any harm come to her, yet ned could not make false promises, and he despised himself for his weakness.

"I'm here for you," Ashara offered, she wrapped her arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder. Eddard felt a blush creep into his cheeks, thankfully hidden by the natural darkness of the surrounding woods.

"Thank you," His voice cracked, and he felt shame fill his every being as she giggled softly into his side.

"Have you considered my offer," She asked quietly after a moment of comfortable if not awkward silence, her head still laying on his shoulder. "Arthur can Knight you, and you can be my sworn shield." She raised her head, and brought her face close to his to whisper in his ear, "my guardian, my protector." Her warm breath tickled, and to his infinite shame, blood rushed to more than just his cheeks.

He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

"I'm not sure," He answered her, fully knowing he planned on denying her request. Jon Arryn had always warned him of the girls from the King's Landing, how they would seduce a man for his riches and leave them alone and poor when Ashara discovered he had no riches to offer her, she would leave him. He had no desire to go through such heartbreak, "Robert has offered much the same," and the lordship of the Rainswood if he desired it, although he decided to leave that part out.

"Oh," She said, perhaps disappointed, or perhaps not, Eddard couldn't tell. "Well, maybe I can join you then. The Stormlands, I always wanted to visit, I've heard they're quite nice once you get past the all the storms." She said, half joking.

That was worse in Ned's opinion; he knew Robert would seduce her if given enough time, everyone always wanted Robert. The handsome, strong Lord Paramount, a knight muscled like a maiden's fantasy and a head taller than most men. Bringing Ashara to Winterfell presented the same problems, but with Brandon. He was just plain faced Ned, with nothing to his name but whatever lands Brandon or Robert decided to give him one day.

"Maybe," He gave a nonanswer.

"Maybe?"She pulled back, hurt in her voice. "Why not yes?" She demanded. He did not know how to respond at first, and despite opening his mouth, words would not come, and he felt like a fool as he opens his mouth gaping like a Tully Trout. "Are you betrothed already?"

He felt tense, "No," he said, the word ushing from his lips. "I assure you I am not engaged."

"Are you…" She made a hand gesture.

"What?" Looking at the movement of her hands, he had no idea what she was referring to, but it seemed explicit. "A maiden," He whispered, secretly hoping she wouldn't hear him.

She laughed loud and clear at that, the sound echoing throughout the woods. "No, that's not what I meant. I already knew you were a Maiden. You made it obvious when we danced." He had no idea what she meant by that, and he was far too ashamed to ask for her to elaborate. " I meant, are you a pillow-biter."

He had no words to react but wondered if he could ask the Bolton's at his father's pavilion to flay him. It would bring him less shame then continuing this conversation.

"You are, aren't you? God's I've been acting like a fool, I'm sorry I wouldn't have pursued you if I knew. I thought you and Robert were far too close and that you were a bit too sweet, but I was hoping that you weren't" She rushed out her words, the Star of Dorne seeming nervous for the first time that Ned could remember. "I hope you can forgive me."

"I'm not a pillow-biter," he responded after a long minute. He wishes he sounded confident, but he could never seem anything nervous but nervous around the violet-eyed beauty.

"You're not," She said slowly, seeing him nod in assurance, some of her typical confidence returned to her.

"Why then?" She asked, "Why have you been avoiding me since are dance, I thought you were different, so why is it that you're acting as if I have greyscale."

"I'm not good enough for you," He spoke honestly, his grey eyes meeting her captivating violet orbs. He felt so dull and boring next to her, in her elegant purple dress designed to show off her womanly figure, and him in his everyday wool doublet.

"You're not good enough for me," She said as if trying to understand what he meant. "You do know that the Starks are a Great House, correct?" She reached for his head, her palm feeling his scalp with tenderness. "Are you running a fever perhaps?"

"I know that, but I have nothing to offer you, Ash," He explained. "Your you, your beautiful, and funny, willful, proud, and Kind. Everything about you is more than I deserve. I have no wealth, no titles, and nothing to offer. The best you can expect from me is whatever small-keep Robert or Brandon find laying around to gift me. You can do better than a second son. Even if I'm from a great house, you are the type of women who deserve a King, not a nobody."

"Oh, Ned." She spoke softly, grabbing his hands with her own," You fool, your kind, and honorable, and oh so sweet. I have lived in king's landing since I was a girl. Wealth, power, titles, those things mean nothing to me. I want you, and that's all." She placed his palm against her face, "Do you want me?"

Ned was never good with words, everyone he had ever met would attest to the truth of that statement. So he didn't know what to say, but he knew what he wanted to do.

He leaned forward to kiss her, and Ashara met him halfway, their lips met, and Ned felt whole.