The road ahead looked as desolate as the previous days.  There was not a single cloud in the sky to temper the blazing sun. Ned loosened his tunic and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He had never been this far south. 'Starks don't thrive in the South', he said to himself for the umpteenth time.

He had forsworn his grey and white armour as well as his leather gambeson several sennights ago and was wearing a simple, white linen tunic which was soaked through at the waist where his sword belt held the thin fabric in place.

He examined the area and found nothing but sand, stones and dry bushes. He dearly missed the northern forests with their large green trees and small brooks filled with fish. He sighed and straightened himself, tightening the grip on the reins of his steed.

One look at the men following him made it clear that they were as miserable as he was. At first glance, the small group he had handpicked for this quest looked like a ragtag band of misfits. The northern sigils they wore however marked his companions as noble Lords and guards sworn to House Stark.

He nodded at Lord Umber, who went by "the Greatjon". The tall Lord proudly displayed the sigil of a roaring giant. Next to him rode Lord Howland Reed, his sigil was a black lizard-lion on a grey-green field.  Then followed lord Benton Glover, easily recognisable by the flashy scarlet blazon with a silver mailed fist on his breastplate. Lord Glover, deep in conversation with one of the Stark Houseguards, was unaware of the scrutiny of his liege lord.

'They all look sweaty and miserable. Perhaps I've been pushing us too hard', Ned thought. According to the young boy they had picked up at the previous tavern, it would still be a while before they reached the next small village where they intended to find a hearty meal and shelter for the night. Arthur, the young boy, had agreed to provide his services as a temporary guide in return for protection on the last leg of his journey to visit his sister.

Ned took a deep breath and allowed his mind to wander to his bride, Lady Catelyn formerly of House Tully. He had left his young wife at Riverrun. She had yet to lay eyes on her new home in the North. Their hasty marriage and bedding was not his most pleasant memory. He prayed that things would go smoother once they were reunited. Before setting out on this quest, he had received word that Lady Catelyn had birthed him a healthy son. 'The Gods have truly blessed us.' He sent a prayer to the Old Gods despite fearing that they could not hear him. There were no weirwood trees this far south.

Studying the clear blue sky, Ned continued his musings. The proud Lady Catelyn of House Tully, daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands had been betrothed to his elder brother.  After his untimely death at the hands of the Mad King, Ned had taken his brother’s place and married the daughter of Hoster Tully to seal the crucial alliance with the Riverlands. It had all been masterminded by Jon Arryn: a firm alliance between the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands, all sealed by marriages.

Ned’s choice had been taken away from him. His dream of sharing a simple life married to the sweet, beautiful lady he had met at the tourney of Harrenhal, the dream of living with her in a small keep in the North, as a vassal Lord of his elder brother, had been irrevocably shattered. Instead, he was burdened with the responsibility for the entire North and honour bound to spend the rest of his life with a cold, southern wife. He winced when he recalled the proud, distant woman he had bedded on their wedding night.  There had been no time to get to know each other.  He had left at dawn without waking up his bride to say farewell. His allies were waiting for his northern armies so they could march on King’s Landing together and depose the Mad King. 

And Ned, the dutiful, honourable, recently proclaimed Warden of the North, had played his part and the war had been won.   They had all done their duty--except Lyanna. Everything that had happened over the last year and a half--it had all started with his sister, Lyanna.

Finally, they had found a trail. Hope had come in the form of an anonymous message claiming that Lady Lyanna of House Stark currently resided in Dorne. A message he believed to be true because it contained a post scriptum written by her hand. The small sentence was barely legible but he recognized her handwriting all the same. It read: "I need help, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Please, Brother, come find me."

He felt so conflicted whenever his thoughts strayed to Lyanna, his favourite sibling with her fate still unknown. Was she to be envied since she was the only one who had escaped a political marriage, or was she to be pitied because she had been separated from her pack, and a lone wolf is always in danger? He was certain that she had not been kidnapped. No, his impertinent, stubborn sister had shunned her duty once again and had chosen to disappear instead of marrying the man her father had chosen for her.

It would have been almost impossible to kidnap fierce, wild Lyanna without her raising hell and alerting the entire keep. And even if her capturers had accomplished that feat, she would have found a way to escape or at the very least get a message out to her kin. Lyanna was resourceful, brave, intelligent and competent with a sword. As far as Ned was concerned she had either found someone to help her escape Harrenhal or Gods forbid, she had eloped with Prince Rhaegar. The latter was highly unlikely since Prince Rhaegar had a wife and two children at the time. His sister might be wild and impetuous but she has been raised as a Stark, and the members of House Stark were honourable to a fault.

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Whatever had motivated his sister, she couldn't have foreseen the chain of events her disappearance had set into motion. For now, the country was still in chaos after a violent Rebellion. The Mad King and his heir Prince Rhaegar were dead. Prince Rhaegar's wife and children were brutally murdered. Only two members of House Targaryen had escaped the purge and made it out of Westeros alive. His childhood friend, Lord Robert of House Baratheon had been proclaimed King Robert the first of his Name, 'King by conquest and blood'. The new King had not yet had time to restore order in his realm and Lyanna was still missing. What had happened to her? And why was she hiding in Dorne of all places?

The young boy, Arthur called for his attention, interrupting his musings. The lad pointed towards a dark spot in the distance. "Can you see that Lord Stark? We're just a few miles out. See those buildings on that small rise?"

Ned smiled at the boy and yelled at his companions. "We are almost there, my Lords! I cannot speak for you all, but I for one am looking forward to a decent meal and a roof over our heads tonight!"

His statement was answered by several "ayes". With renewed vigour, the small caravan picked up the pace.

The inn was large enough to provide accommodations for their entire party and had adequate stables to accommodate the horses. The common room was mostly empty. Only two tables were currently occupied by suntanned southerners. Furtively scrutinising them, Ned greeted the strangers with a short nod and headed for the opposite corner which contained a large table to seat his entire group comfortably. In no time they had devoured a wholesome meal. With their bellies full and slightly drunk, most of Ned's companions soon had trouble keeping their eyes open. One by one they drifted upstairs for a good night's sleep in a real bed.

Soon, Ned and Lord Howland Reed were the only two of their party remaining in the common room. In the other corner Arthur, their young guide, had met an acquaintance and was playing cyvasse.

Ned and Howland were discussing their options keeping their voices low. The message that had begged Ned to come to this part of Dorne had not contained further instructions. They had nearly reached their destination. So what should they do now? Would it be safe to start asking around whether anyone knew of a northern Lady staying in the area? More than once, their small caravan had drawn hostile stares. Would these Southerners be willing to help them or would they be putting Lyanna in danger if they openly declared their purpose?

They quickly agreed to keep their quest a secret for now. According to the stories being told in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady Lyanna Stark was one of the instigators of the Rebellion. Either they proclaimed her a selfish seductress guilty of starting a war that killed thousands of good men, or she was considered an innocent victim, kidnapped and raped by a mad Targaryen Prince.

Ned knew they needed to come up with a plan and soon. He had hoped to have found another clue by now. He had been screening the face of every person they had encountered since crossing the Dornish border, but nobody had reached out to them yet. Out of ideas and too tired to come up with new ones, they decided to go outside and check on the horses before retiring.

They were just about to enter the stables when Ned sensed someone looming behind him. He immediately reached for his sword and noticed Lord Reed doing likewise. Ned was still slowly turning around to face whoever threatened his backside when he heard the voice of their young guide. Arthur was shouting and waving his arms as he was sprinting toward them. "Lord Stark! Lord Stark! May I present my friend to you please?"

Ned faced the stranger that Arthur called 'his friend'. The tall man held up his two hands doing his best to appear harmless. "I am not your enemy, Lord Stark. We need to talk."

Ned studied the man in great detail. Hie looked familiar but Ned couldn't place him. Ned with his twenty name days, considered himself a hardened warrior, a war veteran. Yet the stranger intimidated him. He was at least ten years his senior and stood half a head taller. While Ned was still lanky, the stranger had well-defined muscles and would be a dangerous opponent. Howland Reed moved closer to Ned, ready to protect his liege lord. Ned straightened himself in an attempt to look taller and answered the stranger with as much authority as he could muster. "I reckon young Arthur told you our names. I would appreciate it if you would identify yourself, my Lord."

A hint of a smile appeared on the taller man's face. "Names are not important," he answered tersely. "The only thing you need to know is that I mean you no harm. We need to talk. We can help each other. If you want to address me by a name, then call me White."

Ned and Howland exchanged a glance. The name "White" didn't help them figure out who the stranger was. It was only a nickname, most likely. Ned was fairly certain it wasn't the man's real name. Still, the niggling feeling that he had seen this stranger before remained.

"All right, Lord White," he conceded, "talk. We are prepared to listen."

"First, let's make ourselves comfortable," the stranger muttered as he walked toward a secluded spot behind the stables after gesturing to Arthur to head back to the tavern, "this might take some time".

***

The next morning, a well-rested group was noisily breaking their fast in the common room when Ned joined them. He decided to let the men eat first before informing them of his plans for the day. He realised all too well that there would be some upheaval after his communication. So he joined his companions at the table and made an effort to enjoy Lord Umber's bawdy joke. Once the GreatJon delivered his punch line, the men showed their appreciation by stamping and laughing. After the men had all wished their liege lord a good morning, silence fell over the table. And Ned knew he could wait no longer. The time had come to address his men.

He braced himself and adopting a confident tone, he explained that their quest was over. His men would consider their mission a failure for the most part. They would be bringing Lady Lyanna's bones north to be buried in the crypts of Winterfell. His other news had to be kept a secret at all cost. He needed to adhere to the plan the three of them had put together last night. Although his men acted subdued, Ned could sense their relief. Finally, they would be heading north!