The Dragon of Duskendale -- A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfic

Chapter 16

Fatherhood was already fraying his nerves, and his child hadn't even been born yet.

Eddard Stark, simply put, wasn't supposed to be here—Brandon was. Brandon was the one born to lead thousands of Northmen in war. Brandon was supposed to be the Lord Paramount of the North, reigning over the largest region of Westeros and making decisions that affected the health and wealth of tens of thousands of innocents. Brandon was supposed to be married to Catelyn Tully, and to be the father of the heir to the North that currently grew in her. None of it was ever meant to be Eddard.

But I am the one here, however much I wish it were another.

Brandon was dead, strangled to death by his own efforts to save their burning father. Catelyn Tully was heavy with his child, safely—or so he prayed—in the castle of her childhood home. Eddard was here, going to counsel the man trying to take the throne from House Targaryen, leading thousands of hard northerners in these soft lands of summer.

Eddard stepped out into a gentle rain, which was a welcome reprieve from the torrential rain they'd been dealing with over the last few days. He heard the call of sentries as he did so, glancing to see a line of ten mounted men riding through the muddy 'road' in the midst of their camp, a dancing maiden on their tabards. Eddard nodded towards them, speaking to the man walking at his right. "Sometimes I wonder if Piper and Wode have done too good of a job disguising our presence."

Little Lord Howland Reed, the Crannogman Lyanna had befriended in Harrenhal some moons and a lifetime ago, nodded. "I know we needed time to marshal here without the Targaryens knowing, but we are as ready now as we'll ever be."

Eddard grunted agreement, slogging through the mud towards the pavilion of black and gold. It is time to invite the dragons among us. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about what that meant, and he hated few things so much as he hated lies. He wasn't ashamed of that fact; Eddard didn't lack bravery, as he'd shown in a handful of skirmishes that he'd personally been a part of. But now there was so...much. So much to worry about, so much to consider. Where he'd once been a second son, the spare to the heir, he was now the leader. The one in charge. The Stark of Winterfell. All of the North was now his responsibility, and hewas near overwhelmed with it. And if he were to die, that same responsibility that crushed a man grown would fall to a babe not yet born.

He thought of the letter in his tent, written by a woman he didn't know. All he knew of Catelyn Tully—Catelyn Stark—came from the words of his now-dead brother and an awkward wedding night, not helped by the fact that he'd left immediately after it to gather his father's—no, his—bannermen. He'd returned to Riverrun a few moons later to find the red haired girl was carrying his child but was still a stranger. He'd only had a few days with her then, waiting for Jon Arryn to join them, before they'd marched away again, towards where Robert Baratheon evaded the men of the Reach and Aelor Targaryen.

It had been as awkward then as it had before. Brandon would have handled the whole ordeal excellently, Eddard knew. He'd know just what to say to a young wife he was unfamiliar with, know how to make her laugh and feel comfortable with him. Ned had not a single clue how to even begin, and it showed in the awkward conversations—or lack thereof—he and his lady wife attempted to have.

But the child she carried...well, that had changed Eddard. It was all he could think about, and the overwhelming sense of protectiveness he felt when he'd placed his hands to her belly made him see the world in a different light. It fascinated him, knowing he'd had a part in creating the tiny life that his wife said thoroughly enjoyed making her heave her stomach empty of the morning. Even now, miles away, it was very nearly all the Northman could think about. Worry continuously nagged at him, fear that something would go wrong with the birth or that the child wouldn't even make it that long nearly driving him to a panic, and Eddard Stark did not panic. It shocked him how much he already cared for his son or daughter. It terrified him to think the danger they would be in if he were to fall or to fail.