Ashara stood at the gates of Starfall, her gaze fixed on the horizon as Eddard Stark rode alone toward her. The wind tousled her dark hair, and her violet eyes betrayed a mix of anticipation and sorrow. She had not expected this day, but here he was—the man who was said to have struck down her brother in a duel, yet now, he carried with him the sword of her house.

As he neared, the creaking of his horse’s hooves echoed in the stillness, and Ashara could feel her heart quicken. The thought of her brother’s death had haunted her for years, and now this moment was poised between justice and grief.

Eddard dismounted as he reached her, holding out the greatsword Dawn, its pale steel gleaming in the sunlight. "I come to return what belongs to your family," he said, his voice deep and steady, but there was a quiet weight to it.

Ashara's gaze softened, and she took a step forward, her breath catching in her throat. She was afraid she would break down and cry again. "You should have stayed away, Lord Stark," she replied, her voice measured yet heavy with unspoken questions. She took the sword, fingers brushing his, but her eyes remained on his face, searching for any sign of the man she had once danced with—was he the same man who had been forced to kill her brother?