"Ned…"
Catelyn Stark's voice was soft, but her eyes carried both concern and quiet reproach as she looked at her husband.
What should have been a warm and joyful family dinner had ended in tension.
Eddard Stark rubbed his face with weary hands.
He felt exhausted—more than he had in years.
So much had changed.
In just half a year, his peaceful life in Winterfell had been completely overturned.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
First, Jon Arryn's death.
Then King Robert's sudden journey north.
That visit alone had changed everything.
Robert had stood before him in Winterfell, asking him—no, pressuring him—to become Hand of the King.
To leave the North.
To step into the nest of vipers that was King's Landing.
And on that very same night—
A secret letter had arrived.
A warning.
A conspiracy.
Then came the Lannisters.
Their secrets.
Their sins.
And the moment that nearly shattered everything—
Jaime Lannister's attempted murder of a Stark child.
An innocent boy.
In Winterfell itself.
Eddard clenched his jaw.
The Kingslayer had always been known as an oathbreaker.
A man without honor.
But even so—
No one could have expected such audacity.
Such cruelty.
Fortunately—
Fate, or perhaps the Old Gods, had intervened.
Karl Stone had appeared at the critical moment.
He had saved the child.
And in doing so—
Exposed the Lannisters' conspiracy.
After that—
War.
Relentless, brutal war.
A war filled with deception, betrayal, and blood.
Men revealed their true natures.
Greed.
Ambition.
Cruelty.
All laid bare.
If not for Karl Stone—
A man as fearsome as he was capable—
The war might still be raging.
Eddard might still be on the battlefield.
Fighting.
Bleeding.
With no end in sight.
"Oaths… betrayal…" Eddard muttered softly.
His thoughts drifted.
Back to a place he had tried to forget.
The Tower of Joy.
The scorching sands of Dorne.
The final battle.
He could still see it.
The Kingsguard.
Arthur Dayne.
The Sword of the Morning.
Blades flashing under the burning sun.
Men falling one by one.
Until only two remained.
Himself.
And Howland Reed.
Everyone else—
Had died.
Their blood staining the sand.
Including—
His sister.
Lyanna Stark.
Eddard's chest tightened.
Even now, the memory felt fresh.
Painful.
Unresolved.
And now—
New suspicions were forming.
Stannis Baratheon.
House Martell.
Hidden ambitions.
Unspoken conspiracies.
Eddard exhaled slowly.
A long, heavy breath.
Then—
He forced himself back to the present.
"I'm sorry," he said, lifting his head and looking at his family.
At Catelyn.
At Sansa.
At Bran.
At Rickon.
"I wanted today to be a happy day… but I'm just tired."
His voice softened.
"Let's end the evening here. Next time, I'll arrange something better. Perhaps by the river."
"A gathering."
"A proper one."
Bran nodded first.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Eddard noticed.
And it troubled him.
Catelyn had mentioned it before—
Bran spent most of his time with Summer now.
Avoiding others.
Avoiding the world.
Rickon, meanwhile, was already half-asleep.
Too young to understand.
Then Sansa spoke.
"Father, you don't need to apologize," she said quickly.
"It's Arya's fault."
"She's wild. Unladylike. You should have disciplined her long ago."
Eddard felt a vein throb at his temple.
Not anger.
Exhaustion.
Before he could respond—
Catelyn stepped in.
"Sansa! She's your sister. You cannot speak of her like that."
"Cate," Eddard interrupted gently.
He didn't want another argument.
Not tonight.
He stood up and walked toward his children.
One by one, he placed his hand on their heads.
A silent gesture of affection.
"It's late," he said.
"Let the servants take them to rest."
Then he turned to Catelyn.
"I'm going to see Arya."
"She did nothing wrong."
"I shouldn't have spoken to her like that."
"Ned, Arya really should—"
"It's enough," Eddard said quietly.
"I know what to do."
He leaned forward and kissed Catelyn's forehead.
Then he turned—
And left.
He found Arya and Jon beneath the shadow of a stone battlement.
Arya was curled up, small and stubborn.
Jon sat beside her.
A torch flickered nearby, casting long shadows.
Eddard slowed his steps.
He heard them speaking.
Jon's voice was calm.
Gentle.
He was comforting her.
Trying to make her smile.
"I'll join the tournament," Jon said.
"You'll cheer for me, won't you?"
Arya sniffed.
"You'll lose."
"No one can beat Karl Stone."
Jon fell silent.
He couldn't argue.
He had seen Karl's strength firsthand.
On the battlefield.
In armor.
In war.
A dragon in human form, Jon thought.
Eddard stepped forward.
"Arya."
Arya looked up.
Surprised.
"I came to apologize," Eddard said.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."
"And I shouldn't have broken my promise."
Arya blinked.
Her anger had already faded.
Now—
Only emotion remained.
"I'm sorry too," she whispered.
"I didn't mean what I said."
She ran forward—
And hugged him tightly.
Eddard smiled.
Relief washing over him.
"We'll have another gathering," he said.
"A better one."
"A bonfire by the river. Roasted fish. Music."
Arya's eyes lit up.
"Really?!"
"Yes."
She laughed.
All her earlier sadness gone.
"Now go rest," Eddard said gently.
After walking Arya back to her room, Eddard turned to Jon.
"Walk with me."
Jon stiffened slightly.
Nervous.
They walked in silence.
Torches flickered along the stone walls.
Finally, Eddard spoke.
"You've grown."
"You're a knight now."
Jon lowered his head.
"Yes, Father."
They reached the city wall.
The night breeze was cool.
King's Landing stretched out before them.
"What do you want, Jon?" Eddard asked.
"The North? Land? A name?"
Jon hesitated.
Then smiled.
"Lord Karl has plans for me."
Eddard raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Jon took a breath.
"He wants me to become Commander of the City Watch."
Eddard froze.
Silence.
Then—
"No."
Jon blinked.
"I want you to refuse," Eddard said firmly.
"And leave King's Landing."
Jon's heart sank.
"Why…?"
His voice trembled.
"I can stay out of the way. I just want to be near you. Near Arya…"
Eddard clenched his fists.
Pain flickered in his eyes.
But he shook his head.
"No."
Seconds passed.
Heavy.
Silent.
Then—
Eddard took a deep breath.
"When you left for war… I made you a promise."
Jon looked up.
"I said that if you became a knight…"
Eddard's voice grew quieter.
"I would tell you who your mother is."
He turned his gaze toward the dark horizon.
"…It's time."
The wind blew colder.
And for the first time—
Eddard Stark felt afraid.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)