The stay at Sea Dragon Point lasted a half-moon. Ned Stark used the time to let his men rest. The Wolfguard had marched through the ruins of Valyria and spent weeks at sea. They needed decent food and unbroken sleep.
Ned spent his days organizing the cargo, checking the scrolls, and ensuring the Valyrian steel and ancient tomes were packed securely into unmarked wooden crates.
They did not take the entire hoard to Winterfell. Ned decided to leave half the treasure, including the majority of the gold and the Dragonbinder horns, secured in the deep vaults of Sea Dragon Hold under Benjen's watch. He took the other half—the raw steel ingots, the weapons, the dragon eggs, the glass candles, and the books—with him on the journey inland.
The caravan moved at a steady pace. Heavy draft horses pulled the reinforced wagons across the Wolfswood. The weather was turning colder, the autumn winds stripping the leaves from the trees.
The Wolfguard rode in formation around the wagons, their discipline sharp. Ned rode at the front with Benjen. They spoke little, keeping their attention on the road and the surrounding woods.
It took them two weeks to cross the distance. On the fifteenth day of their march, the grey stone towers of Winterfell came into view above the tree line.
The heavy oak and iron gates were already open when Ned's party arrived. The courtyard was busy with the usual morning activities, but work stopped as the Lord of Winterfell rode through the gates, followed by the wagons and his personal guard.
Ned dismounted and handed his reins to a stable boy.
Ashara stood on the steps of the Great Keep. She wore a simple, warm dress of dark wool, a thick grey cloak draped over her shoulders. She held one-year-old Rickard in her arms, while a maid stood nearby struggling to hold a squirming two-year-old Arya.
"Welcome home, my lord," Ashara said, her violet eyes shining.
"It is good to be back," Ned replied. He leaned in and kissed her softly, then looked down at the gathering of his pack.
Cregan 8 and half years old and Jon seven years old, ran down the steps. They were growing taller, their faces losing the roundness of early childhood. Rhaenys, now ten, followed them at a more measured pace, holding the hand of four-year-old Sansa.
Ned dropped to one knee, opening his arms. Cregan hit him first, wrapping his arms around Ned's neck.
"You were gone so long, Father!" Cregan exclaimed. "Did you win the games? Did you bring the cup?"
"We did well enough, Cregan," Ned smiled, returning the fierce hug. He reached out and pulled Jon into the embrace as well.
Jon hugged him back tightly, his quiet voice steady. "We kept the castle safe while you were away, Father. Just as you asked."
"I know you did, Jon. Good lads." Ned stood up, turning to the girls. He scooped Sansa up, kissing her cheek. "And my beautiful girls. How have you been?"
"We're good, Uncle Ned," Rhaenys answered with a smile.
Ned smiled, setting Sansa down gently. He stepped up to Ashara. He reached out and took Rickard from her arms, the one-year-old burbling happily at the sight of him. Then, he turned to the maid and scooped up the fiercely squirming Arya with his other arm.
Holding a child in each arm, Ned felt the heavy weight of his journey truly lift. Arya immediately began pulling on his beard, while Rickard patted his cold breastplate.
Elia Martell and Anna stood further up the steps. Anna gave Ned a brief, acknowledging nod. She looked healthy, her dark hair pulled back in a simple braid. Elia offered a polite smile, her hands folded in front of her.
Arthur Dayne stood off to the side, wearing a plain leather tunic and a sword at his hip. He caught Ned's eye and inclined his head.
"Ser Rodrik," Ned called out.
The stout master-at-arms stepped forward from the crowd. "My Lord."
"Take these three wagons to the deep vaults beneath the First Keep," Ned instructed. His voice was calm and even. "Have the men unload the crates there. Once they are inside, lock the doors. You will keep the only key, and you will post two guards at the entrance at all times. No one enters without my direct permission."
Rodrik Cassel looked at the plain wooden crates. He did not ask what was inside them. He simply nodded. "It will be done, Lord Stark."
Ned turned back to his wife. "I need a bath."
"The water is already heating in your chambers," Ashara said.
Ned left the courtyard and walked through the stone halls of Winterfell. The air inside the castle was warm, heated by the water piped through the walls from the hot springs below. He entered his chambers, feeling the aches of the long road.
Before he could begin to unbuckle his riding leathers, the door to the adjoining nursery opened quietly.
Ashara walked in. In her arms, wrapped in thick, soft furs, was a tiny bundle.
Ned's breath hitched. He forgot his exhaustion, walking over to his wife.
Ashara pulled back the furs, revealing the sleeping face of a newborn infant, his cheeks flushed with warmth.
"He was born twenty days ago," Ashara whispered, her eyes filled with profound love. "The Maester says he is as strong as a little bear."
Ned looked down at the tiny, fragile life. He reached out a calloused finger, gently stroking the downy dark hair on the baby's head. "He is beautiful, Ashara. You are incredible."
He looked up at her. "What have you named him?"
Ashara smiled softly. "I was waiting for you to return, to give him his name."
Ned shook his head gently. "I did not think much on it during the voyage. I wanted you to name him this time, my love. A name you favor."
Ashara's smile deepened. "I have thought of a few names, but the one I like the most is Alaric. Alaric Stark."
Ned tested the name. It was strong, bearing the weight of ancient kings, yet possessing a melodic grace. It honored her father, Lord Alaric Dayne of Starfall.
"Well, that is his name then," Ned said, leaning in to kiss her forehead and then the baby's. "Alaric Stark. Welcome to the North, little one."
Ashara beamed, shifting the baby gently. "I will put Alaric back in his cradle. Your bath is ready."
She left the room quietly.
Ned stripped off his riding leathers and his tunic, stepping into the large wooden tub filled with steaming water. The heat eased the tension in his muscles. He sat back and closed his eyes.
The door opened and closed with a soft click. Ashara walked back in. She had changed into a simple shift of pale linen. Her dark hair spilled loose over one shoulder. She carried a thick bar of soap and a soft cloth.
Without a word, she knelt at the edge, dipping the cloth into the water. The first touch of her hands on his shoulders was gentle. She worked the soap into lather, her fingers tracing the ridges of muscle. Ned exhaled slowly, the sound low in his chest.
"You were gone longer than expected," Ashara noted, her tone easy. Her thumbs pressed into the knots along his spine.
"The journey required a detour," Ned said, his voice already thickening as her hands slid lower, kneading along his ribs.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" She leaned closer, her breath warm against his wet skin.
"Yes," he answered, eyes still half-closed. "We brought back enough Valyrian steel to arm the vanguard."
Ashara rinsed the soap from his back with slow pours of water from a copper ewer. "And the cost?" Her voice had dropped as one hand slipped beneath the water to trace the flat plane of his stomach, then lower, brushing his cock.
"Exhaustion," Ned said, the word rougher than intended. Her fingers drifted, wrapping around the thickening shaft and stroking slowly.
"That is good," Ashara murmured. She set the cloth aside. Her hands remained on him, palms exploring his chest. "The North has been quiet while you were away. Maester Luwin has the reports on the harvest. Arthur has been running the men through their drills. The children are restless. They want to start training with real swords."
"They are seven," Ned replied. His attention fractured as Ashara's shift dipped low, revealing the swell of her breasts.
He opened his eyes fully, turning to look at her. Those violet eyes met his. A slow smile curved her lips.
"Tomorrow," she echoed softly. "But tonight, my lord… tonight you are mine."
Before Ned could answer, Ashara rose. Her fingers caught the hem of her shift and pulled it upward, letting it fall to the floor. She stood naked, her breasts heavy with milk, nipples peaked. The curve of her belly still soft from birth. The dark hair between her thighs already wet with arousal. Her legs strong.
Ned's breath caught. "Ashara…"
She stepped into the tub. The water rose as she lowered herself astride his lap. She sank down until his cock pressed against her pussy, then slid along the shaft with a slow grind that drew a groan from him.
"Shh," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Her mouth soft at first, then deepening. Her tongue slipped inside. Her fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging to tilt his head back so she could kiss his throat and suck at the pulse point.
Ned's hands came up, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing the nipples until she arched with a moan.
Ashara rocked against him again. "I missed you," she breathed against his ear, nipping the lobe. "Every night I lay here thinking of your hands, your mouth, the way you fill my pussy until I forget my own name." Her fingers slid down, wrapping around his cock and stroking firmly.
Ned's hands slid to her arse, gripping the firm cheeks and pulling her harder against him. His cock throbbed, the head nudging at her entrance with every roll of her hips. "You are all I thought of on the voyage," he confessed, voice rough. "The way your body yields to mine, the sounds you make when I fuck you slow and deep."
She smiled against his skin. "Then fuck me now, Ned. Slow and deep. I want to feel every inch of your cock."
He lifted her with one arm around her waist. The head of his cock pressed against her folds, parting them, and he guided her down inch by inch until she sat fully impaled. Her pussy clenched around him. Ashara's head fell back, a long moan escaping. Her eyes fluttered half-closed.
"Gods, Ned… you feel even bigger after so long."
He held her there, letting her adjust. Then he began to move, slow thrusts upward. Each stroke dragged along the front wall of her pussy, drawing gasps from her.
Ashara braced her hands on his shoulders, nails digging in. She met his thrusts, grinding her clit against the base of his cock. Her breasts bounced.
Ned leaned forward, capturing one nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard, tongue flicking while his teeth grazed. Ashara cried out, hips stuttering.
"Yes… like that… don't stop."
He switched to the other breast, sucking while his hand slipped between them. His thumb found her clit, circling tight and slick in time with his thrusts. Her breathing grew ragged, moans turning to whimpers.
"I'm close already," she gasped. "Ned… I've needed this so badly."
"Then come for me," he growled against her breast. "Let me feel your pussy squeeze my cock."
Her body tightened. Her pussy fluttered then clamped down in pulses as she came. She shook, a broken cry tearing from her throat. Ned held her, thrusting steadily to draw out every tremor until she sagged against his chest, panting.
He lifted her off him. Ashara protested softly. He turned her so her back faced his chest. He pulled her down again, legs spread over his thighs. One arm banded her waist. His other hand stroked his slick cock then notched it at her entrance.
"Again," he murmured into her hair. "I want to feel you come around my cock while I'm buried deep."
He thrust up, filling her in one glide. Ashara arched, head back against his shoulder. This angle let his cock brush the spot inside her with every stroke. His hand cupped her breast, rolling the nipple. His hips worked steadily.
Ashara reached back, tangling one hand in his hair, the other bracing the tub rim. "Harder," she demanded, voice hoarse. "I want to feel you tomorrow when I walk. I want to ache from how deep you fucked me."
Ned quickened his pace, powerful strokes lifting her. He kissed her nape, sucked the skin, then bit lightly.
Ashara moaned louder, pushing back to meet him. His hand slid lower, fingers on her clit again, rubbing firm circles. The coil tightened faster. "Ned… I'm—oh gods—I'm coming again—"
Her second orgasm hit sharper. Her pussy milked him in strong contractions. Ned groaned her name and kept thrusting through it.
He eased her forward, bending her over the tub rim, arms resting there. Her arse raised. Ned rose on his knees behind her. He gripped her hips, thumbs in the dimples at her spine, and slid back inside with one deep thrust.
He set a fast pace, hips snapping. The wet slap of skin filled the air. Ashara pushed back to meet every thrust, moans turning to cries.
"Fill me," she begged. "Come inside my pussy, Ned. I want to feel you spill deep and carry it through dinner."
His rhythm faltered. Balls tight. One hand reached around to rub her clit. Ashara came first, third orgasm locking her down hard. Ned followed, burying to the hilt as his cock pulsed, flooding her with hot spurts of cum. Wave after wave until spent.
They stayed joined, panting. Ned kissed along her spine, murmuring, "My wife… my heart… my everything."
Ashara turned her head, smiling over her shoulder with sated eyes. "Welcome home, my lord."
He withdrew slowly. He helped her turn, pulling her into his lap. He reached for the soap, lathering it and washing her breasts, her belly, between her thighs where his cum leaked out. She washed him in return, hands on his chest, arms, his cock already stirring again.
They talked softly between kisses about the detour to Valyria, the steel brought north, the children's strength. Ashara's fingers traced his scars. Ned's mouth followed the silver marks on her belly, kissing them.
Only when the water cooled and their skin pruned did they rise. Ned stepped out first, wrapping her in a thick towel before drying himself. He dressed in the clean grey tunic and dark trousers, pulling her close for one last slow kiss that promised more later.