Chapter Text
"I'm going."
"No, Brandon, you're absolutely not."
"She's my sister!"
"She's also my daughter, so I'm the one who decides who will go to retrieve her. And it won't be you. That's final."
"Oh, then who is to be her knight in shining armor?"
Wordlessly, Rickard points at his second son, who stiffens immediately. "Ned will go. He is much more level-headed than you could ever be, and we need this if we're to deal with the Targaryens."
Brandon's cheeks are pink with fury, but he sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Okay. But only because I trust Ned."
"Don't even go there," Rickard retorts. "You'd accept it even if you didn't trust him. I do, and must I remind you that I am Lord of Winterfell?"
Brandon opens his mouth to reply, but Ned is faster. "What would you want me to do and say there, Father?"
Rickard turns to him and crosses his leg. "You must go Aerys and ask for Lyanna. Assuming Rhaegar took her there, you'll return with her on the same day. If not, make it clear you won't leave until she shows up. Of course, say this politely. We cannot afford to have Aerys thinking we are conspiring against him. We're lucky enough that Arryn has managed to calm Robert down."
Ned nods in obedience. "I'll do my best. Hopefully it will be enough." A pause. "Are we sure Lyanna was taken by force? Hasn't she warned any of you where she was going?"
Benjen shakes his head while adjusting his bag on his grasp. He is to go back to Winterfell, now that their father is with them. There always must be a Stark in Winterfell, after all. "I have to say, though," he tells, "I wouldn't rule it out that she just ran away."
"Lyanna wouldn't be so careless," Brandon argues. "She may be a bit crazy, but not to the point of running away with the fucking prince without telling us a single thing."
Benjen nods. "You have a point. Good luck, Ned. You'll need it."
"Don't I know," he replies, sighing.
He has seen King Aerys before, in Harrenhal, but the sight of him still feels like some terrible novelty.
Two Kingsguard are there: Ser Jaime Lannister, who is near the throne, and Ser Barristan Selmy, who is near Ned. He can't tell which of them looks more tense, which is a bit worrisome. He can understand the young Lannister's nervousness—he's new to the job—but why would Barristan the Bold, war veteran, be anxious? Perhaps the Mad King is madder than the tales say, and both of them think Ned is utterly fucked already.
"So," Aerys starts, "what brings you here, boy?"
He takes a deep breath and silently sends a quick prayer to the gods before replying, "Your Grace, my sister Lyanna has disappeared near Gods' Eye, and so has your son, the heir prince. Due to this temporal coincidence, and due to their… interactions at the tourney, we'd like to ask if there is any chance the two of them are together. If so, we'd like to meet them. If not, we'll continue our search elsewhere."
From the corner of his eye, he notices Lannister arching his eyebrows slightly, as if in approval. "My son has gone away with two of my Kingsguard," the king replies, sounding bored and angry at the same time—how does he even achieve that? "Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell. His wife claims to have no idea where he's been, and his mother says the same thing." He shifts his position on the throne, and Ned catches sight of blood dripping from his forearms. "If you are so sure your… sister is with him, I'm sure you won't mind searching for them with my Kingsguard. The ones that are actually loyal to me, and not to my son."
This is not what he expected, but it's better than the many alternatives he has conjured on his mind on his way to King's Landing. "I wouldn't mind at all, Your Grace," he replies, slowly. "In fact, it'd be most fortunate to count on your assistance. May I know who you will send with me?"
Aerys raises his hand and uses his outrageously long nails to point at both Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. "These two here," he says dismissively. "This boy here has yet to prove his value aside from being a golden glorified babysitter, and this old man needs to prove he is still fit to fight. I'll give all of you until tomorrow morning to leave. Now go, get out of my sight, the three of you. Fetch Ser Gerold for me, boy."
That last sentence is directed at Lannister, who replies, "Yes, Your Grace," and promptly leaves. Ned and Ser Barristan soon follow.