Unfinished Sympathy

The Lord of Winterfell
_
He’s never ridden this hard or this fast in his life. The Dornish heat is stifling, and it’s burning him under his armor. The heat is melting him. He’s not made for this, for this southern weather. He belongs in the North.
Just like Lyanna was meant to be in the North Ned thinks, heart wrenching in unrestrained grief. He has lived fourteen of the seventeen years he has been in this gods given world with his baby sister. His little sister Lyanna, the wild northern beauty. His winter rose. Now he will never see her again.
Fourteen years is not enough.
But nothing can make this pain go away, the crippling pain of losing his father, his older brother, his hero, Brandon, and Lyanna. Starks do not do well South of the Neck.
They make camp twice more on their way from the Tower of Joy before they reach Starfall. Their arrival has been expected, Ned realizes as he and Howland are let into the castle. Lady Ashara is waiting and gods does she looks as beautiful as the day he had first met her. She is lovely, all dark hair falling about her shoulders and violet eyes shining with sadness.
She looks older than she did before the war, and Ned knows he probably does to. War makes boys into men, children into orphans, and women into widows.
“I’m sorry,” Ned begins because Ashara is looking at the box that they’ve carried all the way here. Her brother’s bones and their family sword are in front of her eyes and she isn’t even crying. She just looks as though she’s accepted it, like she knew her brother was going to come back from war in a casket.
But she hears a cry and she looks beyond him at his loyal friend, Howland Reed and-
“Is that-” she begins and Ned panics.
“She is my bastard!” he spits and he can tell by the hard look Ashara gives him she doesn’t believe him.
“You lie,” she says evenly, “You were a maid before we shared those precious nights together at Harrenhal and you were so shy I had to show you-”
“Ashar-” he begins, his cheeks turning red as he remembers the fumbles between them in a dark tent as Ashara giggled into the night.
“No,” she forces out with such anger that Ned almost wants to take a step back. He knows that Dornishwomen are wild, free spirited, different than women in the other six kingdoms, “How dare you lie to me about this? After what happened between us? After everything I have lost!”
Ned’s shoulders fall, and he feels like a child. He’s no Lord Paramount at the moment. He’s a young man who’s lost everything except for his honor, and he’s ready to even give that up for Lyanna. He’s already chosen to give it up. For his sister, his sweet dead sister, “I-”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Eddard Stark,” Ashara says boldly, violet eyes flamed with anger, “Not when you’ve taken my brother, and left me to suffer losing our babe alone.”
Ned chokes because he didn’t know. He hadn’t known that- “I-”
“That is Lyanna’s daughter,” Ashara shudders evenly, “I know those violet eyes and they are not from my house,” It breaks her to say it. Hadn’t she loved Elia? Hadn’t they been the best of friends? Sisters even? And Lyanna – poor Lyanna, doomed to marry that oaf Robert Baratheon.
“Yes,” Ned manages, “Her name is Visenya. Joanna will be her name now, as my bastard.”
Ashara’s heart sinks and her rage grows, “And, how will you explain those eyes? By saying they are from me? Did you come here to give me my brother’s remains and ask me to let the whole seven kingdoms believe that Ashara Dayne of Starfall is the only woman to break Ned Stark’s glorious honor?” by the end she is near shouting, furious that he would ask this of her. Furious that everything could go so terribly wrong. She takes in a deep, calming breath, “Ned, you cannot do that to her. Besides, Catelyn will never allow you to keep her at Winterfell.”
Ned looks determined now, the same face he had made the first night that they had made love, “Cat can’t stop me. I promised her. I promised Lyanna.” His voice breaks and Ashara reaches a hand out to him and places her palm on his cheek. He is a man now, not a boy on the edge of manhood. She loves him just as much now as she did before. Sweet, kind Ned. He was not for her.
“Ned… You cannot condemn your sister’s child to a life of disrespect and hate from your wife. A girl cannot be a woman without a mother,” she sniffles at the last bit because she knows. Both of their mothers had died, left them alone to their fathers. But fathers did not know how to raise little girls.
“I cannot send her away!” Ned exclaims hastily, “The last of the loyalists left with Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys from Dragonstone.”
“I will take her,” Ashara utters as she pulls the sleeping babe from Howland’s arms, “She looks just like our son. The same hair,” she sniffles, “And though the eyes are not the same they-” and she cries so quietly as she rocks the babe.
“I made a promise,” Ned whispers weakly but Ashara can tell his resolve is weakening against her tears, “I intend to keep it.”
“You can,” Ashara cries earnestly, “I can. I can help you,” and the little princess begins to cry, “Shhh, my princess,” Ashara coos as she rocks the squalling raven-haired babe.
Her mouth is shifting and she’s nuzzling Ashara’s teats for milk until she latches on and suckles greedily. The milk her son suckled for the few short months he lived. Her dead son. Her dead brother. Her dead mother. Ned owes her this, owes her a child if she is to live, if she is to survive the night. This little princess could be her happiness.
Ned is watching them and he’s crying too because he’s found out he lost a son. And his niece will grow without a mother if he brings her north. He hates to admit it, but no woman will love her husband’s bastard. How can he ask that of Cat, who is no less a victim of war than he? Ashara is bouncing the babe and gods he just-
“Please, Ned,” Ashara says, “Let me take her. I’ll lie, pretend I never lost little Ned, and I swear I will send her to you so she may know you but-. Please, Ned,” she’s pleading, and Ned doesn’t know if it’s for the babe they lost or for the one in her arms, “Please.”
He can’t say no. How can he? Ashara is right. No one will believe Ned took his daughter with Ashara alive, and Cat would never stand to have the girl with them, “Aye,” he finally sighs, “But she’ll visit me at Winterfell for a year for each two she spends with you,” Ned says, “I want her to know the land of her mother. She is of the north.”
Ashara’s eyes are shining, “I won’t betray you, Ned. I love you, and I love your loyalty to your friends. But I won’t let your whoremongering friend take her throne.”
Ned’s eyes look so pained that he almost doesn’t say what he is thinking. Promise me, Ned.
“She won’t be safe,” Ashara nearly screams, “Unless the Lannister and the Baratheons are defeated. I will teach her to be Queen.”
“No,” says a husky voice, “I will.”
Ned curses because could this get any worse? “Prince Oberyn.”
The man smirks, “I did not know you had it in you, Stark,” the man hisses like the viper he is, “Planning to betray your friend? As you betrayed your rightful king?”
“Oberyn,” Ashara huffs, “Stop baiting him. And don’t think I’ll let you use this child as a tool for revenge against the Lannisters. She is my daughter. Mine.” She says it with such fierceness that Ned believes her. Ned believes her.
“We do not kill innocent girls in Dorne,” the prince sneers, “Which is more than you can say of your friend.”
Ned’s face falls, “I-If I had been there I would not have- He should not have done that. And I told him thus.” He might not like the Martells, mistrusted them even but Ned knows that Oberyn is not playing him false. Prince Doran and the Dornish had gone to war for Elia Martell, and now that she was dead they wept. But he is terrified, terrified that if he allows them to take his niece that she will become a pawn in his game of revenge against the Crown, against his brother in all but blood.
Ned looks truly pained but Oberyn cannot bring himself to care because his sister is dead too. Lyanna Stark wasn’t the only dead Princess in the South, “I may not have liked the Silver Prince, or the fact that he passed over my sister at the tourney and added another woman to their marriage-”
“How do you know about that?” Ned demands.
Oberyn scoffs, “Some of us have the trust of our sisters. Elia wrote me of their wedding. Did you think you were the only concerned brother when Lyanna was kidnapped?”
Ned’s blood is boiling and Ashara is sighing because the babe is crying. Their raised voices have awoken her.
“The both of you – stop,” Ashara says sternly before she turns to Ned, “When the time is right… will you be able to do what needs to be done?”
He knows what his former lover is asking; for him to betray his friend, his brother in all but blood. But Lyanna is his blood. Visenya is his blood, his niece.
Somewhere inside, he thinks this is all his fault. He’s the one who convinced their father to betroth Lyanna and Robert. And he’d done it against Lyanna’s wishes. She had begged him not to speak on Robert’s behalf. When that had failed, she had tried to get Brandon to convince their father not to betroth her to him. Benjen had been the only brother who had stepped up on Lyanna’s behalf. His little brother was the one with honor, not him. In that moment, he’d not been a brother to Lyanna but a brother to Robert. He’d chosen Robert over Lyanna. And though Robert is the brother he chose he will not disappoint Visenya the way he disappointed Lyanna. He will not choose Robert over his blood again.
“Aye. I promise,” whispers Ned his voice shrinking in pain, wondering if this means he has no honor or if he has all the honor a man could have, “For Lyanna… For you.” It kills him to make this promise, to conspire against the king, his friend, in such a way. But he had never wanted Robert to take the throne. He had never wanted Robert to be king. He had wanted Aerys gone, and even Rhaegar, but they had an heir. Had an heir until the boy’s smashed skull had been present in bloody Lannister cloaks and his friend, his brother, had laughed. In that moment he has no regrets. Because this is Lyanna’s daughter, and he will be damned if this small babe with bright eyes and a gummy grin will be presented before Robert Baratheon the way her brother and sister had been. He’s committed himself to treason, in that moment.
There’s emotion in his eyes and Ashara is looking at him fiercely, “She will know her family,” he says finally, giving Oberyn a meaningful look.
Oberyn looks unhappy and Ned looks at him, “What-”
“My nephew lives,” Oberyn says through gritted teach, “Elia sent him with loyalists to Essos for safety.”
“But-” Ned begins, “The- I saw-”
“That child is not my nephew. He had no Rhoynish blood in him,” Oberyn scoffed, “Aegon is safe, and one day he will come back for what is his.”
Ned licks his lips because this is deeper than he wants to be, a deeper conspiracy against the Crown than he had ever expected.
“Visenya will be raised between us,” Ashara says, “As Joanna Sand. And when the time is right, when Aegon returns, the Lannisters will face punishment.”
Ned gulps but then he remembers. Promise me “Aye,” he pauses, “The North will rise for Visenya.”
Oberyn looks satisfied, and when the two shake hands, Ned can’t help but feel a bit sick. Is this right? Is this honorable? He never wanted to make this choice, never wanted to betray his brother. But here he is, betraying him for his sister. For the one person who deserved it the most.
Ashara hands Ned his niece once more where he looks into her eyes, so violet and so expressive, the same color as Rhaegar’s. He places a kiss on her head and wills himself not to lose his emotions as he hands the child back to Ashara.
“Promise me,” he whispers, as he places the Sword of the Morning’s bones and sword before his former lover and the Red Viper, “Promise me.”
Ashara leans in and kisses him on the lips and it feels so wrong but it feels so right. He has Cat now, his wife. But the only one he wants is Ashara, who he should have married, who he would have married.
As the great Palestone Sword Tower becomes a glimmer in the distance, Ned turns to his trusted friend, Howland Reed.
“Joanna Sand is my bastard by Ashara Dayne, Howland,” he says, a simmer of threat in his tone, “Do you understand?”
Howland nods his head. Anything for Lyanna.
_
The Heir in the North
The last of her trousseau is packed away and Visenya sighs deeply. She will leave at first light for Planky Town’s harbor, where the ship taking her to White Harbor is waiting. She does like to visit her uncle Ned, father, she reminds herself to call him while she visits him. But she hates Lady Stark. The woman had treated her awfully until Visenya had wrote to her lady mother in all but blood to tell her that Lady Stark had put her in a room smaller than the servant’s quarters at Starfall. Uncle Ned had put an end to the mistreatment then and there, but Lady Stark had always looked at her with angry eyes until the third time she had visited Winterfell.
She had been nine, and Ned had called she, Robb, and Lady Stark into his solar where Ned had finally told Lady Stark exactly why she had needed to behave.
“We aren’t brother and sister?” Robb had questioned while his mother went ashen.
“Aye,” Ned says, “Princess Visenya is your cousin. One day, when Aegon returns to Essos, she will be Queen.”
Catelyn gulps, and even at nine, Visenya isn’t sure if it’s out of fear or retribution or because she had realized that it means her husband plans to commit treason.
“We are still cousins, Robb,” Visenya says, “I always knew we were cousins and I loved you anyway.”
Robb looks starry eyed, and continues, “Now when we play knights and dragons I will actually be rescuing a Princess!”
“You cannot tell anyone of what has been said,” Ned breaks in, “If the king finds out that Joanna Sand is Visenya Targaryen he will have her killed, and all of those who helped her.”
Visenya’s heart freezes because her little cousin Edric, Ned they called him, has just been born. She bites her lip and turns to Robb, “We’ve got to protect my cousins Robb, all of them. Sansa and Arya and Ned and Arianne and Obara. All of them.”
Ned looks proud at Visenya’s sense of duty.
“Father?” Robb questions, “Theon said I couldn’t marry Joanna- I mean Visenya because we are siblings but we’re not.”
Catelyn’s eye twitches.
Ned looks hesitant, as though he doesn’t particularly want to talk about this at all, “You are not siblings, no.”
“But cousins can marry, right?” Robb demands, “We learned so from Maester Luwin.”
Visenya is looking at her cousin wide eyed, unsure of what he is asking. “But I’m to marry Aegon and he’s my brother.”
Robb’s face looks crestfallen, as if he has realized what it would take for Visenya to become Queen.
“Aye,” Ned says finally, ignoring Visenya completely, “I won’t hear about it any longer. You’ll tell no one of this. And you’ll call your cousin Joanna. It is to protect her. And all of us.”
Robb nods finally and then begins to pull his cousin from the chamber and Ned can hear Robb asking his young cousin if she would prefer to play giants and princesses or knights and princesses. Ned doesn’t see how either or those games are different, knowing that Robb has already planned for Visenya to be the princess in the game.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ned?” Catelyn finally says with a hurt glimmer in her voice.
Ned swallows, “We didn’t know each other before,” he says hoarsely, “I promised Lyanna I would protect Visenya and I didn’t know you.”
“You didn’t trust me, you mean,” Cat says, “You thought I would turn you in. Why would I do that? So we might all die?” she asks furiously.
Ned hesitates, “You hated her so much…”
He had thought she might get rid of her husband’s bastard at first chance she could. And how could she even be mad at that idea? When she had proved time and time again that she would not, could not, love JOanna Sand?
Ned does not visit Cat’s bed for over a fortnight and by then, it is time for Visenya to make the long trip back to Dorne.
“Do you have to go?” Robb asks.
Behind him, Theon is rolling his eyes, “Men ought not cry, Robb.”
“I’m not crying!” Robb furiously denies, “I’ll just- I’ll just miss my sister is all.”
Visenya smiles sweetly and kisses his cheek, “We can still write. My lady mother wants me back at Starfall. She is sending me to be a lady in waiting for Princess Arianne,” a lie that the world would be told, Ned thinks as he watches the exchange. Truly, Visenya would be taking lessons with Prince Doran, “And then I will be a proper lady. But I will be back in only two years,” the young Princess pauses and looks up at her uncle hopefully, “Perhaps… may Robb come to visit at the Water Gardens, father?”
Robb turns, river blue eyes are excited as Visenya’s violet ones, “May I please, Father?”
“No,” Ned says, “Your place is here. You have duties.” Perhaps time apart will stifle any odd relations between his son and his niece. His Lady wife may have stopped the two from bathing in the hot springs together three years before, but Ned believed that perhaps there is something between Robb and Visenya. Or perhaps, that there would be in the future. It must not happen. If they are to keep Dorne pacified then Visenya must marry Aegon. He has no idea that at that moment, Catelyn is thinking the opposite to her husband. She has every desire to see her son, her boy, a prince.
Sansa looks put out and Ned wonders if his eldest daughter is confused as to what is happening, “Why leave, Jo? San come wif? Ar-ya?”
Visenya crouches to Sansa, ever the little lady, “I will come back soon, Sansa. Just as I always do.”
When her wheelhouse leaves the gates of Winterfell, Robb and Sansa watch from the tower as Visenya holds her hand to the cold glass of her carriage to see them for a moment more. And then she is gone. The walls have never been frozen at Winterfell, have always been warm with the hot springs, but in this moment they feel cold, as though there is no sun in his life. Perhaps it is because Visenya is gone.
And Robb thinks, maybe she has taken his heart with her.
_
Aged 12
It’s not the same without Visenya, Robb knows. But soon she will be back. Within a fortnight, if his Lord father is to be believed. She will arrive with an entire Dornish contingent under the guise of a trade agreement between the North and Dorne, just as she has every time she has visited in the last twelve years. The trade agreements do occur, Robb knows, as he’s sit in on the plans to create more glass houses from imported Dornish glass; the plans to export more timber to Dorne for the ships that Prince Doran has commissioned. Robb knows his father is preparing for the war that will return Visenya’s throne.
Prince Doran is also preparing, Robb knows, as Visenya’s last letter had stated that Princess Arianne and Garlan Tyrell had been formally betrothed, and that Prince Doran was now working on securing a Frey bride for Quentyn Martell. His mother’s face had pinched at that but she had conceded that it was a worthy plan.
“The Twins are an important plot of land to control,” Robb had been told by his lady mother, “Without them it is difficult to reach the Riverlands and the South.”
Presently, Robb was riding with Theon and Jory to meet Visenya’s wheelhouse down the Kingsroad. He finally spots it in the distance and his heart races when the wheelhouse stops and the door is thrown open and a Knight helps his cousin from the warmth of the carriage.
She looks just like she did before, all limbs, with rosy cheeks and wide indigo eyes. Her face is still long. Truthfully, she looks just like Arya. Or perhaps, Arya looks like her, and they both look like Lyanna Stark. Naturally beautiful.
Robb doesn’t know that she and Arianne had prayed together for hours in the Sept for full breasts and a woman’s figure after Prince Quentyn had snubbed them both.
“Robb!” she exclaims, rushing towards him and jumping to hug him tightly, “I missed you. I have much to tell you,” she begins.
An olive skinned man’s face appears from the wheelhouse, “Lady Joanna, mayhaps you can wait for your reunion until after we have reached Winterfell.
Visenya blushes, “Uncle,” she says, “May I ride with Robb? He won’t drop me.”
Robb nods vigorously, and the two happily ride ahead of the wheelhouse towards Winterfell. They aren’t alone though, as Theon follows them, and an assortment of Dornish knights are in front of them.
Sansa is waiting excitedly with her young friend, Jeyne Poole who looks unimpressed that a bastard is visiting Winterfell in the presence of a prince.
Sansa glares at her, “King Robert legitimized my sister,” she says, “As a special favor to my father.”
Jeyne looks cowed but isn’t nearly as enthusiastic to meet Visenya as Sansa.
“I’ve gifts!” she exclaims while the two giggle in the night, “I brought you Dornish fabric, silks and linens, since you wrote that you like to sew. And, don’t tell father,” Visenya says, knowing that Sansa is still unaware about their mummery, “But I’ve brought Arya a sword!”
They all get on like a house on fire while Prince Oberyn negotiates with Lord Ned Stark.
“And what of the Tullys?” Oberyn asks, directing the question at Catelyn, “Could you persuade your younger brother to perhaps marry a Dornish bride?”
“I love my brother,” Catelyn begins after a moment, “But… He will not be a strong Lord Paramount. There is perhaps… another way to foster an alliance with the Riverlands.”
“We already have an alliance,” Ned says, “I married you.”
“It is not enough,” says Ashara Dayne, “Lysa Arryn is married to the Hand of the King, however miserable she may be. We need a more advantageous alliance.”
Catelyn cannot help but be surprised by Ashara’s words. Has she found another with the same thoughts as she?
“A marriage between your son Robb and Princess Visenya would ensure the Riverlands’ loyalty,” Ashara continues, “As Lady Arryn has yet to produce healthy issue, your Lord father will back Visenya’s claim.”
Ned chokes in horror, “The entire Seven Kingdoms think her my bastard!”
Oberyn shrugs, “When we announce she is not, and then they marry, it won’t be a problem.”
“And what if we are forced into war early?” Catelyn says, “Before Princess Visenya is flowered and Robb is a man grown? Lysa has written me you know. The Crown is in debt, enough that the realm is struggling.”
Oberyn sighs, “It is true. When last Ellaria and I visited it stunk even worse than piss and shit but of death. The people have no love for the Usurper or his lion court.”
“It is the best option, Ned,” Ashara says and though Catelyn agrees she wishes that this woman would not speak to her husband so informally, “If you are so bothered, then we may say that Visenya is the product of your brother Brandon. Would your bannermen have a problem, then?”
Ned sees no way out. He is the only one who believes this a flaw. But he remembers the look in Robb’s eyes when he had watched Visenya leave all those moons ago. “Fine,” he says agonized over the prospect that he will now have to educated Robb and Bran so they might both be leaders, “But they will not marry until they are grown.”
They don’t tell Robb and Visenya, and Catelyn thinks they should have because presently, she is watching her son storm around the Castle, annoyed that his cousin is playing with Arya instead of him. Theon looks unimpressed and Catelyn thinks that her son of three and ten might not know he is in love.
When Visenya leaves, she takes Wynyfryd Manderly with her, and Robb wonders what it would be like if they didn’t have to part when their year together is up.
_
Aged 15
They are grown when they see each other again. Robb is six and ten, tall, and ready for battle. He is a man now, not a boy. But waiting for Visenya to arrive, he thinks perhaps he is not yet a man at all.
Visenya’s wheelhouse has finally arrived, large, covered in a finery that Sansa would think was wasted on the muted cold of the North. And there she is, in all of her southern, Dornish, splendor. She is even more beautiful than he remembers. Her eyes are unchanged, the same wide, shining stones of violet. Her hair is still wild, the dark Stark coloring with the Targaryen curls. Her lips are full, face smooth and rosy from the cold. She’s grown into the long Stark face. It suits her even, he thinks as he sees a knight with silver hair and violet eyes help her from the wheelhouse, followed by Lady Ashara Dayne and who he believes may be Wynyfryd Manderly, and four girls who he couldn’t name.
“Welcome to Winterfell, niece,” Ned says, “It is good to see my brother’s daughter bright and happy.”
Robb wants to die because his father is an awful liar, but the bannermen who had gathered to greet the Dornish all seem to eat it up.
“Where is Prince Oberyn?” his father continues, “I was led to believe he would accompany you.”
Visenya smiles, kissing her uncle on his cheek, “He continued North to the Wall. He says…” she looks at Sansa and Arya before continuing, “That he’s never pissed from something so high and wants to leave a mark in the snow.”
Lady Catelyn and Sansa look horrified but Arya and Bran snicker quietly and Ned looks mildly outraged. Robb is reminded once again that though his cousin is a Stark in look, she is a Dornish princess in practice. Looking at the way Theon is staring at her, Robb wishes it weren’t so.
His Princess cousin is wearing a dress that shows more than the ones that Theon’s favorite whore Ros wears. Under her cloak, her shoulders are exposed, and the neckline of the wine colored gown is so deep that Robb wonders how her breasts do not tumble out. He looks closer and her nipples are pebbling in the cold, hard and-
“Shall we go inside?” Lady Ashara questions, taking Visenya’s hand and walking her in.
The feast that night is almost painful to sit through. Visenya is sat right beside him in a different dress. It’s a light rose with golden embroidered damask, but it lacks a back. The only fabric between her teats and him are thin triangles of gathered rose that are tied in a silken bow at the nape of her neck.
He can’t stop staring, and he thinks that Visenya may have noticed because she looks at him perceptively, “Do you like it?” she asks and Robb isn’t sure how to respond so he looks at her carefully, “My necklace,” she continues, playing with the golden pendant of inlayed blue stones shaped like a winter rose, “Cousin Ned gave it to my for my nameday,” she says and Robb can’t contain his jealousy because he hears too much of Edric in her letters. Her cousin, her deceased Uncle Alleras Dayne’s son.
“It’s very beautiful,” Robb says, trying to stop himself from the embarrassment of being caught staring at his cousin’s teats, “Aunt Lyanna is wearing one similar,” he blurts, “In the portrait father has.”
Visenya looks sad then and nods, “Yes. Ned and mother had it polished for me.”
He doesn’t know what to say, so they eat in uncomfortable silence until Robb asks her to tell him of Arianne and Garlan’s wedding. Visenya lights up and tells him everything she can and then finally stops, “I shouldn’t gush so,” she says, “But I hope for Arianne’s happiness.”
“You have said she is your closest friend,” Robb says and he hopes that the jealousy he feels isn’t showing in his voice.
“Yes,” Visenya agrees with a warm smile, “She is my closest companion. A sister, even. I miss her dearly. She has been at the Water Gardens since the wedding,” Visenya says with longing, “I am rarely able to leave Sunspear now, though I did visit she and uncle Doran before I left to come here,” she sighs, “But I have my friends,” she points towards each, “That is lady Jeyne Jordayne. Next to her is Lady Leila Yronwood. Across from her is Lady Allyria Vaith, and next to her is Lady Sarella Santagar.”
Robb doesn’t much care, truthfully, because though these ladies are all beauties, he sees no one but Visenya.
His father calls them into his chambers when the feast is done that night, accompanied by Lady Ashara and his mother.
“Mine daughter,” Ashara begins, “It is time to prepare you for the Iron Throne.”
Robb’s eye twitches.
“His Grace, Prince Aegon will arrive in Sunspear in less than four turns,” Ashara says, “And there we shall hold your wedding and make war against the Usurper.”
All Robb can think is that Visenya is leaving early – that she’s marrying someone else.
“The hand of the King is dead,” Ned continues, “And Robert will soon travel North. We will stall him here while Aegon takes King’s Landing.”