Memory Share | Young Hearts (Ned Stark 2)

[ulfur]

For a second son of a noble House, young and freshly knighted, the tournament at Harrenhal should have been a place to show off his skills. But even at eighteen, Eddard Stark knew he would not compete. It was far more of an advantage to watch from his place in the spectators, to note each knight's strengths and weaknesses, to learn from their battles with each other, while his own capabilities remained known only to a few.

Even the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree who had shown up yesterday in the lists had a distinctive fighting style, which this knight's enemies - and he seemed to have a few, specifically those bullies who had tormented Howland Reed and incensed Lyanna's fury - now knew. Ned had considered that distinctive style with more than a few stares, leaning forward as a suspicion grew in his heart, and a breath of relief when the knight won his battles and rode away, never to be seen again.

But Ned was not thinking of the joust at the moment. Only of the weight of Ashara's head leaning on his shoulder as they sit together in the gardens, dusk bringing coolness and a bit of privacy. His arm around her, Ned gazes down at her in wonder. So many of the knights had sought her. But he was the only one she had invited to walk with her in the gardens, to watch the entertainments with. Even to meet with her in her tent, with Dornish boldness to overcome his shyness.

Her purple eyes and curving smile for him are things he always wants to remember. He wonders what it would be like to have that every day. If it would even be possible, to one day make her his Lady.

"What are you thinking about, my wolf?"

Softly, he sighs and squeezes his arm around her shoulder. "That I don't want this to end with the tourney."

Her hand strokes his leg. "Maybe it doesn't have to."

Though Ned is quiet, he feels hope spring in his heart at the suggestion. He turns his lips to her cheek where it's nestled against his shoulder, then to her mouth. His kiss is gentle yet fervent. A kind of promise.

These days have flown by like this. The times between their meetings stretching long, and never enough time together. Joy. Desire. Wholeness. Was this what it meant to love and be loved? And could it truly last?

"My father wants us to marry well," he says slowly. "Brandon is betrothed to the oldest Tully daughter, Catelyn. And Lyanna to Robert." Which anybody who'd had eyes to see could see that she had not been pleased with Robert's drinking contest the night of the first feast. "I think a Lady of the future Queen's own court, of the noble and ancient House of Dayne, would be a very fine addition."

Ned's eyes, flickering with a touch of humor, are nevertheless entirely earnest upon her face. "Do I speak too boldly?" he asks, brows raised in concern.

But Ashara smiles and gathers him in for another kiss. "No, my wolf," she murmurs. "A fine addition indeed. If you can persuade your father, I am sure I can convince my brother. And perhaps there will even be a place for you at court, someday. Your father would like that."

Ned is quite sure he himself won't like that with Aerys on the throne, but his reign won't last forever, and Rhaegar would make a far better King, gods willing.

The sound of horse's hooves have them both sitting up and glancing down the road. Their courtship was not exactly a secret; perhaps it only felt like something so new and precious that it need not be shared with the world just yet.

But the riders did not care about lovers trysting in the garden. "The Prince," Ashara observes, her delicate brows gathering. She leans in to murmur in Ned's ear. "His father ordered him to find the strange knight. We heard the King shouting about traitors and the tree laughing at him. When the knight did not come today, he was as angry as I've ever seen him."

Ned looks grim, his arm still tight around Ashara, his eyes scanning the riding party for signs of a fight...or a prisoner. But it is only Rhaegar and his men, riding slowly, so as not to wear out their horses, or themselves, for the next day's events. Except...as they draw close enough to make out details in the dim light of dusk, Ned sees the emblem on the shield hung from Rhaegar's saddles. The white weirwood with its splashes of red upon its carved face. Laughing.

He inhales sharply. Turns to Ashara. "I must go," he says, hands gripping her shoulders. "I will write to you. And if we cannot meet tonight, then tomorrow. All right?"

He wishes he could tell her more - his concern and abrupt departure will no doubt leave her with questions and perhaps even worry - but until he knows that Lyanna is all right, too much is at stake.

When the horses have passed them, Ned hurries from the gardens and back to the Stark tents. None of them know where Lyanna is. The next place to look is obvious to him. He rushes straight to the stables, and there, gods be good, was his wild sister putting away her horse. She whirls when she sees him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and dark hair tumbled.

"Ned!"

He comes to her, unable to help the profound relief that inspires him to pull her into a tight embrace. "Thank the gods."

"Whatever for?"

"That you're safe. You could have been killed."

"Don't be ridiculous. It was just a ride, and I've ridden since I could walk. I was in no danger, Ned, stop fussing!" Lyanna squirms away and resumes her work on her horse's tackle. "Shouldn't you be with Ashara right now?"

It is his turn to flush and glance away. Lyanna's distraction tactic is on the verge of working. "I was," he mumbles. "Until we saw the most interesting sight. The Prince riding in, with naught to show for his search for the mysterious knight but his shield."

"Really?" From where she's giving her mare a quick brushing, Lyanna raises her brow. "How interesting. I hope that satisfies the King."

"Unlikely. He wanted blood. I am thankful he didn't get it." Ned crosses his arms and stares hard at his sister.

"So am I. The knight fought bravely and honorably. I suppose he escaped just fine." She gives her horse a final pat before taking Ned's arm and pulling him toward the stable door. "Come, brother. I'm starving."

Comments

voice; un: littlebird

[toivory]

No one ever told me you were handsome once, father.

[She's teasing him gently. Her father was handsome, that much was clear.] Bran will look much like you when he is older.

[ulfur]

So no one ever told you lies. Good.

[ A faint chuckle. ] Your mother was so happy when Bran looked like me. I wasn't so sure. But he is a handsome boy, so I will believe you, I suppose.

Bran...he was here for a time, you said?

[toivory]

[She laughs] I never said it continued on into adulthood.

[She loves to tease her father, now that she was able.]

Aye, he was. Only a few weeks, and different than he was back home. [He's a weird raven boy with an incredibly dry sense of humor that no one seemed to appreciate. But still her little brother. But he's fucking weird.] He's grown so much, truly become a man.