Chapter 5

The late afternoon sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows that crept along the stone walls of Winterfell. The ancient halls, normally so full of life and noise, seemed eerily quiet as Harry made his way up the winding staircase toward Lord Stark's solar. The weight of the summons pressed upon him like a heavy cloak, and Harry couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in his chest. Whatever Lord Stark had to say, it was bound to be significant.

He reached the door of the solar and paused for a moment, taking a steadying breath. Then, with a quiet turn of the handle, he stepped inside.

Lord Stark sat at his desk, a brooding figure in the shadows of the room. The tall, weathered windows of Winterfell's solar gave the room a cold, almost bleak feeling as the sunlight dipped lower. A fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth seemed far removed from the weight of the moment. Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell, looked up at Harry, his expression grave. His dark eyes, filled with the wisdom and caution of the North, met Harry's gaze without hesitation.

"Harry," Ned began, his voice as steady and commanding as always, "I have summoned you here to discuss matters of great import."

Harry nodded, standing tall. He could feel the tension in the air, the sense that this conversation would alter things for both himself and the realm. He glanced around the room briefly before meeting Lord Stark's gaze again, his thoughts already racing. "What is it, my lord?"

Without a word, Ned gestured toward the chair across from him. Harry took his seat, the stone cold beneath him, the silence between them oppressive.

"I have received word that Jon Arryn is dead," Ned continued, his voice heavy with both grief and grim determination. "The circumstances of his death are… troubling."

Harry's heart sank as the news settled in. Jon Arryn had been a key player in the realm's politics, a man of integrity and influence. His death was not a simple tragedy; it would shake the foundations of power in Westeros.

"The King is on his way to Winterfell," Ned added, his gaze narrowing. "He means to bring his court with him. What happens next will depend on how we navigate this."

Harry listened carefully, sensing the undercurrent of unease in Ned's words. It was not just the king's visit that worried Lord Stark. It was the shadow of suspicion that now loomed over Jon Arryn's death.

With a slow nod, Harry responded, his voice calm yet laced with the weight of the situation. "I see. The death of Jon Arryn… it changes everything. A power vacuum will form, and when that happens, many will seek to fill it."

Ned's brow furrowed slightly as he leaned forward. "Aye. There are whispers, Harry, but nothing solid. Some say it was natural causes. Others… suggest foul play." His eyes darkened as he spoke the last part. "But there are no answers, not yet. And I have no time to waste searching for them alone."

Harry considered the words carefully, the quiet tension of the room pressing on him. "If it's foul play, as you suspect, the perpetrators will not stop at one death. Power is a dangerous thing in the hands of those who are willing to spill blood to claim it." He looked at Ned, his tone turning more serious. "We must investigate, my lord. We must uncover the truth behind Jon Arryn's death before it's too late."

Ned's gaze never wavered as he studied Harry, his lips tightening slightly. "I know. I've already set some things in motion, but the question is: where do we begin?" His voice lowered, but the weight of his words carried. "If this is a conspiracy, we need to tread carefully. The wrong move could send us down a dark path. And I won't risk Winterfell—or my family—because of my own ignorance."

Harry nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He had been in the game of politics long enough to know that the death of one man could spark an entire chain of events. The stakes were high, and the wrong ally could lead to ruin. "We must act quickly, but quietly. We can't let anyone suspect that we're probing too deeply."

A moment of silence passed between them. Ned seemed to contemplate the words before speaking again, his voice measured but firm. "You're right. But it's more than just the investigation. The King is coming. The crown will demand answers, and it won't be long before the rumors start flying about Jon Arryn's death." He paused, a look of grim resolve in his eyes. "And the ones who killed him… they won't stop with Jon Arryn. They'll keep moving, trying to destabilize the realm. If we want to survive this, we need to find them, and fast."

Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought. "If it's power they're after, we need to look at who benefits most from Jon Arryn's death. The question isn't just who killed him. It's why."

Ned stood, walking toward the hearth, his broad frame imposing against the dancing firelight. "That's the challenge, Harry. Finding the 'why' is always the hardest part. But I trust you'll be able to help me with this. You've proven yourself more than capable in these matters before."

Harry stood as well, meeting Ned's gaze once again. "I'll see it done, my lord. We'll find out the truth—whatever it may be. And we'll prepare for whatever comes next."

Ned gave him a brief nod, his expression hardening with the unspoken weight of responsibility. "Very well. You'll have my full trust and resources. But remember—trust no one fully, not in this game. Not even those who claim to be our allies."

The words hung in the air between them, a warning and a promise.

—

The conversation shifted then to the arrival of King Robert Baratheon. Lord Stark's expression remained firm, but there was a quiet apprehension in his eyes as Harry spoke.

"The king's visit is both an opportunity and a challenge," Harry said, his voice measured but full of thought. "It offers a chance to solidify alliances and secure support for House Stark. But it also opens the door to political maneuvering and intrigue."

"Aye," Lord Stark replied, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "The king's presence will stir the waters. And when the waters stir, the fish begin to swim in different directions."

Harry's lips quirked upward in a faint, knowing smile. "That's one way to put it."

Lord Stark's gaze grew sharper, more somber, as he looked at Harry. "We must navigate these complexities with care. The North is no stranger to the sharp edges of politics. But Winterfell's interests… they must be protected. For the sake of my people."

Harry's voice dropped slightly, the words carefully chosen. "With Jon Arryn's death and the king's coming, it seems likely that Robert will need a new Hand of the King. His old friend's passing leaves a void that will demand filling."

"Aye," Ned said, rubbing the rough stubble along his jaw, his eyes narrowing in thought. "A position of great power. And yet, it would come at great cost. To be Hand of the King… it is not a position one takes lightly. Not when the king is Robert Baratheon."

Harry gave a slight nod, his eyes unwavering. "It's a strong possibility that the king will look to you, my lord. Your reputation for honor, your friendship with him—no one else fits so well."

Ned's jaw clenched slightly, his voice heavy with a weight borne of both duty and personal sentiment. "The honor's not in question. But I know Robert, and I know the kind of man he is. This isn't just about reputation or loyalty. It's about playing the game in a court of snakes and vultures."

Harry met his gaze steadily. "Sometimes the hardest part of playing that game is knowing when to step away from the board. It's not always about winning; it's about surviving, my lord."

Ned's lips pressed into a thin line, his thoughts clearly tangled in the complexities of the future. "I will not abandon my duty to Winterfell, no matter what role Robert offers me." He sighed, his breath drawn out as though he'd been carrying a burden for far longer than just this conversation. "But you're right. If the offer comes, it's not one I can easily refuse. Not when the realm stands on the brink."

Harry felt the weight of the moment, the air in the room heavy with the unspoken challenges Ned faced. He allowed the silence to stretch before speaking again. "And when it does come, will you tell Jon about his true parentage?"

The question was met with a long, loaded pause. Ned's eyes darkened, and for the briefest moment, the mask of Northern stoicism faltered. He turned his gaze toward the window, where the pale light of dusk illuminated the snow-covered land outside.

"I have been holding that truth from him for many years," Ned said quietly, almost as if to himself. "It's not just about Jon's parentage. It's about the greater balance of the realm. If that secret comes to light, it could change everything."

Harry leaned forward, his voice low but resolute. "A secret like that doesn't stay hidden forever, my lord. It will come out. And when it does, Jon deserves to hear it from you. From someone he trusts."

Ned's shoulders stiffened, the tension radiating from him like an iron chain. "It's not that simple, Harry. I promised to protect Jon. To keep him safe. But the truth may not be something he wants to know."

Harry's voice softened, though there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. "Jon deserves the truth. No matter the consequences. If you leave it in the shadows, the rumors will find him, and they will tear him apart."

Ned's eyes met Harry's then, and there was something unspoken between them—an understanding of the burdens they both carried, albeit in different ways. "I've kept him safe by keeping that secret," Ned said quietly, as though the words themselves were a confession. "I've kept him in the dark to protect him. But maybe it's time... maybe it's time to let him know."

Harry's expression softened, though there was no lightness in his words. "It will change him. But sometimes, the truth is the only thing that can set someone free."

Lord Stark's expression hardened, the resolve settling on him like the weight of a sword. "I'll tell him. When the time comes."

He stood then, the heavy weight of his decision clearly marking the end of the conversation. "The truth, like a blade, cuts deep. But I will tell him, as I promised."

As Ned moved to the window, staring out over the snow-covered landscape, Harry stood with him, the quiet tension between them palpable.

"We face a storm, Harry. And it's not just the one brewing outside."

Harry nodded, his gaze steady and knowing. "But storms pass. And the North endures."

Ned's lips quirked, a small but genuine smile flickering across his face. "Aye. The North endures. No matter what comes."

—

"If Jon decides that he wants the Throne, will you back his claim?" Harry's voice cut through the thick silence of Lord Stark's solar, the question like a blade, sharp and direct.

Ned Stark, seated at the heavy wooden desk, looked at Harry with an unreadable expression. He rubbed his fingers over his beard thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. The wind outside howled against the walls of Winterfell, a reminder of the harsh world they lived in.

After a long pause, Ned sighed, his voice steady, though tinged with the weight of his thoughts. "The Throne… the Iron Throne. It's no place for a man who values peace, Harry. Not anymore."

Harry leaned forward, his own curiosity evident, but his expression softened with empathy. "So, you'd refuse to support him? Even if it's Jon?"

Ned's gaze grew distant, as if staring at something beyond the walls of Winterfell. "Jon is my son," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "In all but blood. I've raised him as my own, given him all that I could. But the throne…" He shook his head. "It's a poisoned chalice, lad. A seat of power that has brought nothing but ruin to those who've sought it."

Harry regarded him, his gaze unwavering. "But what if Jon truly believes he is the rightful heir? What if he wants to take it?"

Ned was silent for a long moment, his jaw set in determination. "If he chooses that path…" He exhaled slowly, the weight of the thought pressing down on him. "I would stand by him. But it wouldn't be for the throne. It would be for him. For the boy I raised, the man he's become."

Harry's voice was gentle, as if trying to untangle the deep thoughts from Ned's heart. "But even so, you wouldn't want him to pursue it, would you?"

"No," Ned answered firmly, his hands clasped together in a way that showed his resolve. "Not unless it was the only way. Not unless the realm had fallen to chaos and there was no other choice."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his eyes glimmering with understanding. "And Robert Baratheon," he said, the question lingering in the air. "Is he truly fit to rule anymore? A king who drinks himself into a stupor and forgets his duties?"

Ned's gaze darkened slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as though the mention of Robert stirred old memories. "Robert," he began, his voice slow but measured, "was once a hero. He fought for this kingdom, for his crown, and for what he believed was right. He was the fire that burned the old regime down, and in that, he did a great service to the realm."

Harry's eyes were sharp. "But do his virtues outweigh his vices now? Is he still fit to lead?"

The question seemed to weigh heavily on Ned, and his gaze fell to the floor for a moment. "A king…" he said softly, almost to himself, "a king must be more than a soldier. Robert… he led us in battle, he led us to victory. But as a ruler? That's something different." He paused, eyes distant again as if considering years of memories. "I've known Robert longer than most. The man I knew, the man who fought by my side in the rebellion, is not the same man sitting on the Iron Throne. The weight of the crown has changed him."

Harry remained silent for a beat, considering the implications of what Ned had said. Finally, he asked, "Then, what's left of the man who once took the throne?"

Ned's voice grew quieter, tinged with sadness. "The Robert I knew was a man of honor. He cared for the realm. He loved his people. But now? He has drowned himself in excess. His love for the people has been replaced by indulgence in wine, women, and the fleeting pleasures of a life spent in the shadows of his former glory. The throne has poisoned him, Harry. It's not just the drink—it's the weight of it all."

Harry leaned back, absorbing the weight of Ned's words. "Does that mean he's a bad king?"

"I don't know," Ned muttered, a deep frown creasing his brow. "He's still my friend. But he's a king who has lost his way. The Robert who once fought for the people... is gone. What's left is a man who can't face the responsibilities of the crown." He looked Harry dead in the eye then, as if searching for understanding. "We all make choices. But the throne, it changes a man. And Robert's choices have led him down a dark path."

Harry's voice was firm as he pushed further, "So, what will you do, my lord? Will you keep serving a man who's lost himself?"

The tension in the room was palpable. Ned's eyes hardened, the flicker of old loyalties and the burden of duty weighing on him. "I will serve him," he said at last, his voice clear with the weight of resolve. "Because that is my duty. It may be a broken duty, but it is mine. I swore an oath to him, and I will not break it. Not while he sits on the throne."

Harry sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "You would follow him into darkness?"

Ned's lips curled into a grim smile. "I would follow my king. But I'll be honest with him. I'll speak the truth, even if it costs me. The realm is dying, lad. And I will not stand by and watch it fall into ruin. I'll protect my family, my people, and my honor. Even if I must do so against the will of the king."

The fire crackled in the hearth, its light dancing across the stone walls, casting long shadows in the room. The silence that followed seemed heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

At last, Harry broke the quiet. "You're a man of honor, my lord. More than most. I can't say I understand all the politics and alliances at play here, but I know one thing for certain—your loyalty is unshakable."

Ned gave a faint nod, a somber smile crossing his face. "Loyalty," he said, his voice low and grim, "is both a gift and a burden. And at times, it feels as though the weight of it will break me."

"Then let it break you," Harry said with a faint smirk, "but don't let it destroy what you stand for."

Ned's smile softened, the storm inside him momentarily quieted by Harry's words. "You are a wise boy, Harry Potter," he said quietly, his voice carrying both pride and sorrow. "Wise beyond your years."

The room fell into silence once more, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between them.

—

Harry's eyes burned with quiet intensity, but his words cut through the thick, heavy silence like a blade. "You say Robert loved Lyanna, but did he really? Or was it all just a game to him? A prize to be won? A trophy to be paraded in front of the realm?"

The accusation hung in the air like a thunderclap, shaking the room with its sharpness. Ned Stark's shoulders stiffened, his eyes flickering for a moment as if to resist the weight of Harry's words. His jaw clenched, a reflexive move that betrayed the turmoil brewing inside him. He had loved Lyanna like a sister, and the thought that Robert's affection for her could be anything less than true cut through him.

"Robert's love for her was no game," Ned replied, his voice hard but tinged with a weariness that betrayed his internal struggle. "I saw it with my own eyes. His love for Lyanna was fierce and true. He'd have burned the world down to claim her, if he could. His actions were... impulsive, yes. But the love was real."

Harry didn't back down, his gaze sharp as ever, the words coming out colder than the northern winds. "Was it real, Lord Stark?" he pressed, his voice biting. "Then why did he bed so many whores while the rebellion was still going on? While he was claiming to be honoring her memory? Was that the legacy of a true lover?"

The air in the room seemed to freeze, and for a moment, even Ned Stark couldn't hold Harry's gaze. He looked away, a brief flash of regret flickering in his eyes before he spoke again, voice low. "Robert... Robert made mistakes. He was... he was a man, flawed and flawed by the very war that gave him the throne. The rebellion, the battles, the power—everything came crashing down on him. He sought comfort in his vices, yes. But he never forgot Lyanna. He loved her, and would love her until the day he dies."

Harry shook his head slowly, his tone sharp as a dagger. "A man who loves doesn't use a woman's memory as an excuse to indulge in excesses. A man who loves doesn't forget the world that suffers while he drowns in wine and women." His eyes narrowed as he leaned in slightly. "Can you tell me that Robert didn't let the realm slip from his hands, that his indulgences didn't cost lives? How many people died while he lost himself in his own lust and pleasure, Lord Stark?"

The Lord of Winterfell's face hardened, his fingers tightening on the armrest of his chair. There was a palpable tension in the room, like a storm about to break. He could feel the weight of Harry's words digging deep into his chest, pulling at the strings of duty and loyalty that had once been unbreakable. But Harry's words rang with truth, sharp and unforgiving.

"I don't deny his failings," Ned admitted, his voice a gravelly whisper as though confessing a sin to the gods themselves. "Robert's vices are many. His reign... it has been a hard one to watch. But he is my king, and I swore to serve him." He paused, his eyes meeting Harry's with the weight of decades of unspoken truths. "There were nights when I saw him, broken and lost, haunted by the ghosts of the past. But he was still my brother in arms. Still the man who fought beside me when we had nothing but the cause."

Harry was unyielding. "And the cost of that cause, Lord Stark? What did it cost you all? The land's blood was spilled, the people's hopes dashed, and Robert took the throne, but at what price? Did he ever stop to think about the lives he ruined along his rule?"

Ned's expression grew tight as the storm of emotions warred inside him. "Robert fought for a new world, for a chance at something better," he muttered, his voice tight with the frustration of old wounds. "And I stood beside him because I believed in that world. A world free of the tyranny of the Targaryens. But... Robert was never meant to rule. He was a warrior, not a king."

Harry's voice softened, but the edge was still there. "So what then? We're supposed to follow him, loyalty at all costs, even when the kingdom suffers, even when his hands are stained with the blood of innocents?"

Ned swallowed hard, the weight of his own words sinking in like a stone. He sat back, his face drawn with the years of war, loss, and sacrifice. "Loyalty isn't a choice for me, Harry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's a duty. A duty I swore on my honor. I swore to stand by Robert, and I will. Even if it means watching him ruin the very thing we fought to protect."

Harry leaned forward, his voice steady but unyielding. "But at what point, Lord Stark, do you stop serving a man who is drowning in his own failings? At what point do you say enough is enough? Robert's no longer the man he was. He's a shadow of himself, and this kingdom, your people, are paying the price for it."

Ned closed his eyes, the weight of Harry's words pressing down on him. The silence between them stretched long, thick with the unsaid things. He had pledged his loyalty to Robert, but loyalty to a man who had lost his way could only go so far. Couldn't it?

Finally, Ned spoke, his voice low, but resolute. "I will serve Robert. Because it is my duty. But I won't lie to myself. The kingdom is suffering. And if it ever comes to it—if Jon... if my son stands before me and asks for my support..." He paused, his voice tightening. "Then I'll make the choice that's best for the realm. For my children. For the North."

Harry's eyes softened for a moment, the harshness of his questioning giving way to understanding. "I hope you do, Lord Stark. Because sometimes duty isn't just about serving a king—it's about serving what's right."

—

Harry's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade, his words sharp and deliberate. "And what of Elia Martell and her children?" he asked, his tone dripping with icy condemnation. "Were their lives worth less than Robert's insatiable thirst for power?"

Ned's jaw tightened, and a flash of pain flickered in his eyes. The mention of Elia Martell and her children brought with it a flood of memories, bitter and dark. The brutal murders of the Martells—Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon—haunted him still. The cruelty of Gregor Clegane, the monstrous violence, the helplessness of a family destroyed in the name of Robert's rebellion—it was all too much to bear.

"Gods..." Ned whispered, his breath unsteady as the ghosts of the past crept back. "Elia and her children... that night still haunts me."

Harry didn't relent. His gaze was unyielding, relentless. "Their blood was spilled to serve Robert's crown. How do you justify that, Lord Stark?" he pressed, his voice rising with the conviction of someone who had long wrestled with the cost of those sacrifices.

Ned's gaze fell to the floor, as if the weight of the question bore down on him like a thousand stones. He could still see the aftermath—the blood-soaked halls of the Red Keep, the lifeless bodies of children, the desecration of Elia. He could hear Robert's bitter laughter, his cruel remarks as he dismissed the tragedy.

"Robert didn't order it," Ned said quietly, but his words rang hollow, as if he were trying to convince himself more than Harry. "He didn't condone it. But..." He closed his eyes, his face hardening. "It happened. And I didn't stop it. I should have."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting like a whip. "You didn't stop it because you were too loyal to a man who didn't deserve it. He let that massacre happen, and you let him."

The truth in Harry's words stung like a blade to the gut, and Ned could feel the familiar twinge of guilt gnawing at his soul. He had always prided himself on his sense of duty, on his unwavering loyalty to Robert and the realm. But now, faced with the cold clarity of Harry's accusation, the foundation of his convictions felt brittle and cracked.

"Loyalty…" Ned muttered, almost to himself. "It's a heavy burden. One I've carried too long, perhaps."

Harry's expression softened, just slightly, but his words were unyielding. "You think Robert was the only one who paid for that throne, don't you? Elia Martell and her children paid with their lives, and countless others too, all in the name of a crown Robert was too blind to truly wear."

Ned swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost choking him. He was a man of honor, a man who had sworn to protect the innocent. And yet, here he was, standing in the shadow of his own failures, his allegiance to a man whose cruelty was now undeniable.

"Robert..." Ned's voice faltered, and he looked up at Harry, his gaze haunted. "He was my friend. He was... he was everything we needed at the time. But the man he became... I don't recognize him anymore."

Harry's voice dropped, a dangerous edge creeping in. "He was never the man you thought he was, Lord Stark. And you know it."

For a long moment, the two men stood in silence, the weight of their words hanging between them like a suffocating fog. Then, slowly, as if dragged from the depths of his soul, Ned spoke.

"I swore to serve him, to stand by him, to protect this realm," Ned said, his voice heavy with the burden of his oaths. "But I can't ignore what I've seen, what I've failed to see, anymore."

Harry stepped forward, his eyes locking with Ned's. "You have a choice, Lord Stark. A choice to stand with what's right, not what's convenient."

Ned's face twisted with anguish, and his fists clenched at his sides. "What's right?" he spat, his voice hoarse with frustration. "What's right is that we've all been played, all of us. The realm, the people... we're all just pawns in this game of thrones. And I've let myself be one of them. I've let my duty blind me."

Harry's eyes softened, but his voice was firm. "It's not too late to change, Lord Stark. To stand for something better."

Ned shook his head slowly, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You think I can change this? That I can undo what's been done?" He looked at Harry, his eyes filled with regret. "The damage is done, boy. We're past the point of no return."

Harry's gaze hardened, his voice low and steady. "Maybe. But I'm not giving up on what's right. And neither should you."

There was a long silence, the weight of their exchange pressing down on both men. Finally, Ned spoke, his voice tinged with the sorrow of a man who had seen too much and could bear too little.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he confessed, his tone raw. "I've lost my way, and I don't know if I can find it again."

Harry's expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "The road's long, Lord Stark. And you've walked a hard one. But there's still time. There's always time to make things right."

For a moment, Ned just stood there, his mind a swirling maelstrom of conflicting emotions. But in that moment, as Harry's words echoed in his mind, something within him began to shift. Perhaps he could still make a difference. Perhaps, for all his failings, there was still a way to redeem himself.

Ned met Harry's gaze, his voice steady now, but still filled with the weight of his past. "I don't know if I can change the past. But I'll try... for them. For the people who didn't deserve what they got."

Harry nodded once, his eyes still sharp, but a hint of approval in his gaze. "That's all any of us can do."

As he turned to leave, the weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air, but something had shifted. Ned Stark, for the first time in a long while, felt as though the shackles of his past might finally be loosening.

---

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