Welcome to the sixth chapter! Today we arrive in Dorne, we have some Ned/Shaena interactions, Ned/Band, Shaena and some northern lords, and we prepare for the Tower of Joy!

Dudtheman: Yeah, I feel like, their personalities will make them warm up to each other fast? But love and sex and all that... Hmm, it will not crawl but it certainly won't snap.

Tlstroud: Thank you! And yes, many of these people are used to living in an urban area, with a warm climate and all that. And well, the religious differences are not that important, because while most northerners spank out about the Old Gods, it's a more private and usually less collective form of worship. The cultural differences though, adapting to the climate and living style, yeah, that will be hard. Although the North will have some improving :) And no, Robert would not miss the wedding even if he would die, he wanted to make Shaena miserable and he wouldn't miss Ned's wedding.

Blizzarddragon777: A interesting and funny thought lmao, a question for the philosophers.

Toile grant: Thanks!

Guest: And yeah, most people don't go for young Ned especially!

It had been what? A week short of a month, since he had left King's Landing, Jon and Robert behind. He had left King's Landing the morning after his wedding, angry at Robert, Jon and the Lannisters they had quickly allied themselves with. Jon and Robert had once again, tried to argue for the deaths of the Targaryen babes just as he and his army readied to depart. The anger he felt, the betrayal. Robert laughing about the Targaryen babes being thrown from the towers their ancestors had built, to make sure none of them would come back to haunt them. Ned had almost fought him, for his suggestion to kill infants. Ned had fought a war, a whole war, to avenge the murders of his family, the kidnapping of his sister, and here they were, suggesting he help them do just that, murder. Ned had left quickly, ordering two thousand men to escort all the people who had decided to follow his army and his wife to Duskendale, with the men of Shaena, including Ser's Regen, Jaime and Jaremy. Shaena herself had said she would come south and accompany him.

His new wife was a mystery. She was strong, beautiful and proud, and despite the silence that stretched between them, he had to admire the way she handled the lords of the Reach when he, she and his army of ten thousand arrive to relieve Storm's End. Mace Tyrell had surrendered quickly, coward that he was, but after his and Mark's pitiful attempts at diplomacy, trying to force the Tyrells into giving them the food and resources they wanted, it had been Shaena, that after a talk with Randyll Tarly, Lord's Rowan and Redwyne and Lord Tyrell, that had gotten the food and resources he wanted. He had tried to thank her, but after she informed him, she once again slipped away, ignoring him and avoiding him as best she could.

He still remembered the hungry garrison at Storm's End, cheering their way out of the castle, skinny, dying, hungry, with their skin having gained a white and yellow hue, caused by the hunger, infection and sickness normal in a siege. They feasted on the food that the Tyrells left behind, when Mace Tyrell led his army back to Highgarden, feasting and eating on the tables they besiegers had once mocked them from. The last of them to come was Stannis Baratheon, who made sure his little brother, Renly, ate plenty alongside his men. The man had been courteous enough, but the clear pain and disappointment in his eyes when Ned told him that Robert had stayed in King's Landing were clear. He had expected his brother, the Lord of Storm's End, to relieve his home, but instead, he had sent Ned to do it. Little Renly fared no better. He too had expected Robert, the funny older brother who could make a starving, lonely child laugh after the boy witnessed the things he did, but Eddard knew the truth: Robert barely cared about his brothers of blood. And by the way, Stannis Baratheon gritted his teeth, and quickly told his brother to go back to eating, he knew it as much as he did.

Thankfully, Shaena had gotten well enough with the younger Baratheon brothers. Stannis had greeted her as his lady cousin, and they had talked for long while he and his men rested for a night in Storm's End. He had slept alone, in a cold damp bed, while his wife, he noticed, had been granted grander, more comfortable rooms near the lord's room themselves. They left just the next day as well, with his lady wife saying goodbye to her Baratheon cousin, brother to the man who had usurped her family with a kiss on the cheek.

That had just puzzled him more. Indeed, his dragon wife was like one of those hard puzzles his father once had brought from Pentos.

But none of that mattered now.

They had marched all the way through the moors and plains of the Dornish Marshes, resting once at Blackhaven and at Nightsong, but camping most of the time. This time was no different.

They were resting in a valley just below the high mountains, made of red stone, just at the entrance of the Prince's Pass. If captain at Nightsong hadn't lied to him, they'd find the Tower of Joy half a day's ride up the mountain, and there he would finally find his sister. And finally, I will take her home. He said to himself, just under his breath. But then the memories of the princesses words haunted him. Her good-sister. Lyanna had never been kidnapped.

In truth, Ned knew it was a possibility. Lyanna had always disliked Robert, and like all the women in the realm, had been fascinated by the handsome purple-eyed and silver-haired, kind prince Rhaegar. He remembers those looks she gave him, how she had cried when he had played his song. But still, Lyanna would have never left her family. At least he thought so. Lyanna had been angry at all of them, especially him, since he had a big part to play in convincing his father in her bethrodal to Robert. But, he had to believe she had been kidnapped. It gave sense to this... slaughter. To all the deaths of the past two years. He nodded, just to convince himself.

He walked out of his pavilion and followed the shallow dirt path that lead to the main fires, where most of his men would huddle close to in the night. He walked between all the tents, set always in the same way since the Northmen first left their home. The walk was calm and slow, unlike all the mornings and nights when they were still at war. When men had to rise early, prepare to fight and die early. Not this time. After this, he would bring his people home, take care of them, rule them. He waved away the lost strand of hair blocking the view of his right eye, just as he crossed the intersection between the Umber and Karstark tents.

And then he saw it. Umber, roaring in laughter over the small fire just in front of him, sitting in a log while holding a jug of the dark ale of the North. Buckets, large, grim and broad-shouldered, bending over as he spilt all the contents of his stomach on the floor. And his new wife, Shaena Targ- Stark. Shaena Stark, laughing softly as she held a jug on her hands, with drunken glee in her eyes. He hid behind a tent, silently observing the scene in front of him. It seems even Buckets was having a good time after he had cleaned himself, and they continued their banter. Umber was telling a story, and he caught something about a polar bear and the bay of seals.

He decided he would not intrude, as it was not honourable. He simply turned around and headed to a place he knew he would be welcomed, to Willam Dustin's pavilion, where most certainly, Mark, Martyn and Howland would be as well. He found them all, drinking, minus Howland, who stayed as quiet as ever and listened and listened.

"Ned! Come on, sit!" Willam beckoned him to a pillow right next to him, and he swung an arm around him and hugged him tight after Ned sat.

"Ah, finally! We get our lady Lyanna and then, back home we go!" Willam boasted proudly, which Ned answered with a tight smile and Martyn answered with a toast.

"To peace, finally. May it be that all of you manage to have as many sons as I do." Martyn chuckled, a wide smile as he thought about all his sons. Ned suddenly remembered Jory, the youngest one.

"If we survive the challenge ahead." Howland's words quickly made all in the room tense.

"Speak words we can all comprehend, Crannogman." It was Willam who answered, brave and proud Willam, but Ned could see the nervousness under the mask. Howland had that effect on all of them it seems.

"Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne. The best of the Kingsguard and they haven't been found yet." Howland said calmly, blankly. Like the line of logic that would follow was the most certain thing in the world.

It was Ned who replied to Howland next. He needed to find his sister quickly, and he had hoped that with victory had come peace and safety for his wild sister. But the three white cloaks hadn't been at the Trident, at King's Landing. Ned hoped they would be in Dragonstone, with the queen mother and Prince Viserys. To fight? Once again.

"Do you think it will come to blows?"

"It will. The White Cloaks are fiercely loyal, as one could see in Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan." After Jaime had publicly insulted Robert in the throne room, along with half of the rebel lords, saying "That the Lion does not bow to the stag, only to the dragon," Ser Barristan had also not knelt to Robert, despite Jon being sure he would do so. The Knight had disappeared in the night, and soon reports said that he rode to Duskendale and took a ship to Dragonstone.

"Do you think we can beat them?"

"Im not sure. We can't take many men to the Tower of Joy, the paths are simply too small and the Knights would get word of it and simply leave. It would be best for us to head with a small party. Alas, I don't know if we can beat them with such a party." Howland's words fell sombre on the group.

"Bah, enough with your ramblings. We will beat them, im sure we will." This time it was Mark who spoke, to try to break the tension. Not even Willam felt comforted at the words of the Ryswell knight.

"Well... If we fall... At least we know we fell fighting for something greater." Willam said, so unlike him.

"We will not fall. With Buckets, we are six. We should ask Ethan to come with us as well. The lad has seen a lot of things, and he's a great swordsman. That should make it seven versus three." Martyn stroked his beard and hauntingly looked at his liege lord.

"Aye. It will have to do."

And it continued, their usually cheery nights dimmed by the prospects of fighting the greatest fighters alive, and to just die, tomorrow.

"Right lads, I will head to my tent. It'd be better if all of us would be rested for tomorrow." He said, to which they answered with ayes, beside Howland who answered with a silent nod. He headed out of his tent, following the various dirt paths that would lead to his pavilion.

He pushed open the sheet closing the entrance, stopping when he heard crying. He followed the sound, eventually finding his wife, sitting on a corner of the bed, a goblet of wine fallen on the floor with wine spilling. She had her arms resting on her knees, her head on top of them. She was sobbing, sobs that sounded like cracks of her beautiful voice.

He walked closer, trying not to be too loud. She heard him all the same, her head darting up as she started to quickly wipe her tears. She got up and darted to her stash, but Ned walked up behind her and grabbed her arm, making her look at him. The fear, confusion and anger in those beautiful pink orbs made his heart clench.

"My lord?" She asked him, trying to sound normal.

"My lady, did something happen?" He released her arm but prepared to grab her again if she tried to run.

"Nothing... I-Im fine." She stuttered, not able to keep eye contact.

"You are clearly not fine, my lady."

"I drank too much." She said, in an apologetic tone.

"That you did. Still, you are clearly troubled. Can I help in any way?" Ned decided to take a risk, he placed his fingers below her chin and made her look at him.

"You can't." She said, scowling.

"My lady, we are husband and wife. I admit, not in the best circumstances, but that is what we are. I ask that you be honest with me."

"I just..." She stopped for a few seconds, but eventually but eyed him defiantly.

"The northerners hate me. Only Lord Umber and Lord Wull like me, and that is because I can hold my liquor alongside them." She said with a weak, sad smile.

"Well, you are drunk." Ned tried to be playful and breathed in relief when he heard her chuckle.

"I am not... My point still stands."

"Well, they don't hate you. They distrust you. Northerners are like that, they are always suspicious about anything in the South. Especially since you are..." He tried to think of words to explain that they probably would never trust her because of who her father was.

"Im the daughter of Aerys Targaryen. I know that." She said, defeated.

"Still, that doesn't mean they will distrust you forever. You are... You are Lady Stark now."

"Lady Stark." She said mockingly. "Im just a broodmare, Lord Eddard. A way to end House Targaryen and a way to ensure that the Lords loyal to my family stay down. Im surprised Jon Arryn and Robert ever agreed to let us live."

Ned wanted to retort, to defend Robert and Jon. But he couldn't. Jon had only agreed when he pressured him, saying he would not help them keep the South if they committed such a dishonourable act. Their insistence even after his marriage to the princess disgusted him. How could the war have changed them so?

"It matters not. You are alive, and now you are Lady Paramount of the North. Nobody will touch you." She twitched slightly and finally said.

"I want to hate you." He saw tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill out. He was taken aback.

"But I can't. Why do you have to be so kind? Why don't you hate me? My father burned your father alive. He strangled your brother." The tears broke loose, and Ned took her arms, stopping her from falling. Ned couldn't believe what he just heard. She wanted him to hate her, but he couldn't. It wasn't her fault. She wasn't the reason he fought a war for.

"I don't blame children for the sins of their fathers. And I can see that you are not like your sire." He tried to comfort her, and his heart broke when she looked up, her head by his chest, her pink eyes rimming red with tears. Ned felt something twitch in his gut.

"Stop. Stop... You are only making this harder." She wrapped her arms around his chest, and drunkenly and sorrowfully wept into his clothes and skin. Ned gulped, his arms stiff at his sides.

"My lady... It's the truth. I don't hate you and I don't see a reason for me to feel so. You are clearly kind and you love your family. And... Since we were both forced into this situation... I hope that one day we might be friends. And perhaps... A true family." Ned tried to sound confident and amiable, but he was the contrary. His hopes and head told them that maybe they could be friendly, one day, they could raise a child that would inherit the North. But when he said, true family... His greatest wish was that she would one day love him, and they could be a happy family. His wife was extremely beautiful, and Ned couldn't get the thoughts of bedding her, giving her Stark children and seeing them feeding at her breast, her happy with him and their children... And her nephew and niece.

She hid her head in his chest, crying louder. Ned thought about Lyanna, and all the times she would get hurt, how she would seek him out and cry to him, reveal her weakness only to him, her quiet wolf, as she used to say. The only one in this family that listens. He remembered how she would cry in his chest, how would hug her.

Ned sighed, and warily wrapped an arm around her shoulders and head, stroking her silky mane of silver-blonde hair. It feel nice, it felt right in his hands. She calmed slightly but made no move. By the Gods, she really is drunk. He decided it was now or never. He placed an arm below her bottom, and lifted her up, making her gasp slightly in surprise. But he just shushed her, and walked to the bed, fell backwards and placed the sheets around them.

She eventually stopped crying, but strangely, made no move get off him. Ned deduced she eventually went to sleep, and eventually, so did he.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, as she snored silently as she felt something coarse touch her face. It felt like fabric, but rough, weathered fabric. No matter how rough it felt, it felt warm, comfortable and welcoming. It was her first good night of sleep and her first good morning since she left King's Landing, so she decided she would stay longer and enjoy it. She moved her sore arms, and then she felt something on top of them. She panicked as she noticed it was a head, a head! She shuddered and frighteningly opened her eyes, taking in the view of Eddard's Stark sleeping face. She had to hold out a breath. Lord Stark looked peaceful and happy while he slept, unlike most of the times when he looked grim and sad. She saw that he was sleeping peacefully, but she was more preoccupied about how she had found herself sleeping on top of her husband.

Then the events of yesterday revealed themselves. How she had ended up being convinced by Lord Umber and Lord Buckets to enter a drinking competition and they started telling stories. She almost vomited when Lord Buckets told a very detailed story about how he opened, gutted and skinned a bear and then wore its furs as a cloak. It was her first time drinking so much and trying to keep up with the Northern lords, she eventually got drunk. Very drunk. Thankfully, they were near enough her pavilion, but all those stories about happy families and wives and children to return to. She just couldn't handle it and she broke down in her tent. Then came in Eddard. She just... She just let her feelings take over, she felt foolish showing such weakness... But, she couldn't deny that Lord Stark comforted her. She felt so conflicted. On one side, a rebel lord who helped kill her brother. On another, a man who was just like her, in a situation he didn't want to be. At least, he was kind and respectful.

She shivered as she felt Lord Stark palm her arse, all the while sleeping. His rough, calloused hand grabbed her arse cheek and squeezed, which made her shiver and squirm. It felt... It made her feel hot inside. Awkward, really. Lord Stark groaned in his sleep and moved. Gods, he's waking up! Lord Stark furrowed his brow, and his other hand also found her bottom and grabbed it and squeezed, his thumb starting to rub her bottom in circles. Shaena couldn't handle it anymore, she crawled up on him, placing her head right above his, but the movement made him definitely wake up.

She saw his eyes blink open and lock with her eyes, and she saw the surprise and panic as Lord Stark's head jerked up and headbutted her. She immediatly started rubbing her head, cursing the pain. Eddard sat up, immediatly placing his hands on both sides of her head, instantly apologizing.

"Ouch... It's nothing, I apologize." She continued rubbing her hand, her hands and his locking with the spot above her right eye where his head hit her.

"Im sorry, I-I didn't mean to!" Eddard panicked, he suddenly grabbed her hips and lifted both of them off the bed. "I-I'll take you to a maester!".

He started running with her on his arms, and Shaena screamed for him to stop.

He stopped, still holding her, a look of panic and worry so entrenched in his face it almost made her chuckle.

"It's just a headbutt. There's no need for a maester." She tried to sound as if she was fine, despite the pain.

He nodded, gulping. Ned was worried, he kept getting into these awkward situations with her and now he had just headbutted his wife. For Shaena, all the worry he had for her was charming, really.

"Now, could you put me down?" She said with a small frown, he still was carrying her. She had successfully avoided Lord Stark for almost a month now, but she had to admit that dealing with her husband led to funny situations. Plus, he was kind and sleeping with him had made her nightmares calm during the night. Still, being in his arms felt like she was betraying her family, behaving like a common whore.

He immediatly pulled her down, and once again, apologized.

"I will go tell the men to go prepare your morning bath." With that, he left the pavilion. A few minutes later, some soldiers came in carrying her full bathtub. She thanked them and prepared herself for a bath, feeling a bit lost without her handmaids. Still, she had been doing it for one month now, and she easily slipped into the warm bathtub. The northerners still hadn't gotten it right, that she wanted her baths blazing hot. Still, it wasn't that cold, for a Targaryen, at least. She cleaned her hair and her whole body, drenched in sweat of sleeping on top of a dressed man, she relaxed and enjoyed the warm water.

Ned, armoured and prepared to finally go get his sister, sighed as he entered his pavilion. His wife, since the start of their journey, had been adamant she go with them, so he expected her to be ready. He hadn't allowed her to bring her maids, it would have simply been more distractions for the men when they needed speed, but it had been what? Thirty minutes since he had left her, and she wasn't ready. He entered the smaller tent where the bathtub was, and to his surprise, it was empty. She must be near the room tent. He entered the tent, and to his surprise, his wife was bending over, putting on her small clothes. His mouth watered and his breeches got very tight at the godly sight. His deepest desires wanted him to stay, to watch, to grab her. But no. It wouldn't be honourable or appropriate. He once again walked out.

"Who's there?" He heard the scared voice of his wife. Shit.

"It's me. Are you proper, my lady?" He asked, curtly.

"Hmm... Not quite my lord... But sincerely I need your help." My help?! My help?! She's naked and she needs my help.

He coughed, and acting cold and stern, entered the tent, and when he looked upon her, thankfully she had sheets covering her nakedness, but still, those curves of her, her hips, her large breasts. It was all noticeable. He gulped, hoping that his erection was hidden by his armour.

"I-I suppose we are going to ride the paths up to the tower," Shaena said, blushing. She was sure she had heard the noise of somebody entering her room, but Lord Stark had been outside. Did he see me naked? She looked at his face, cold and calm, like always, and calmed herself. She saw him nod in answer.

"I-I don't have any breeches." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh. I have some that might fit you." She saw him walk to his chest, where he quickly found some breeches and a tunic.

"Thank you. Could you turn around?" She asked, once again flushing in crimson. She was foolish, she would have asked Lorra to pack her some breeches.

He nodded again and turned around.

She let the sheet fall and quickly scrambled to put the tunic on, it fell far below her waist, too big for her, but that was the least of her troubles. She then put on the breeches, familiar to the ones her father had let her use before... before everything went wrong. It was too large though, despite being filled by her bottom, her waist was too small for it and it looked very baggy at the legs.

Ned turned around, because of the lack of noise, and despite everything, chuckled when he took in the vision of his wife. The breeches were too large for her and kept falling off her waist, but her hips held them. It might have been too revealing, it not for the huge grey tunic she was wearing. It almost reached her knees and made her look baggy all around. He saw her scowl at his chuckle.

"I apologize, my lady, but you do look very... very beautiful in those clothes." He said with amusement and saw her blush at his words. He was surprised he could have that effect on her. I do forget she's only sixteen. He went to his chest again, snatching one of his leather belts for her. He handed it to her and she wrapped it around her waist, making the breeches stand, at least.

"Do you have any jerkin I could put on, my lord?" She asked him. She couldn't help but feel conscious about her breasts, and how the shirt curved around them. She saw him scratch the side of his jaw.

"Well, I do, but I don't think they will fit. Jerkings are very tight around the centre." He blushed a bit.

"Oh... Well, do you have any coat, then?" He nodded.

"I do, but this climate is a bit too warm for them."

"Well, could I wear it still?" She insisted. She didn't want to go out, walking in the middle of an army of men wearing this shirt. He nodded and handed her a coat of warm, furry pelt.

"It's bear pelt. I hunted it myself a few years ago." He said as she wrapped it around her.

"That's very brave of you... Eddard." She tried to say his name, without the courtesies. In truth, while she would never be able to love Lord Stark, she was stuck with him, and he with her. And he was kind, despite her father. So at least she would try to be comfortable with him.

"Thank you. But we should head out, the men are waiting for us... Shaena." She headed out, taking his arm after he offered it, smiling and happy that maybe, maybe this wouldn't be so bad at all.

Had some trouble and not that much time to write this! I originally wanted to include the tower of joy right in this chapter, but eventually decided againt's it! This chapter, mainly Ned/Shaena conversations, we see them warm up to each other a bit, and how they get in awkward situations with each other! Thank you for reading, and review and give suggestions! Thank you again!