Fortunately, his lineage also means that he'll likely develop positive traits to balance out the innate disadvantages. Dany is one of the Game of Thrones mod's best characters, and I believe her son will do well. I call Robb to my deathbed and beckon him closer, ready to say my farewells and wish him the best—he'll be the character I control next when Ned passes. I croak out the beginning of a goodbye when another tooltip pops up.
Ned's better. I've been cured of my disease and am back to full strength. Not only am I healthy again, but I've shed my depression and chasteness. Lying in bed and hacking my guts up has made Ned super-horny. I leap out of bed and sprint past Robb, eager to get back to the business of ruling the North and finding a wife.
The former is still easy. The people of the North are a contented bunch compared with those further down Westeros. I'm notified of constant rebellions, with the most unruly territory seeming to be a place called Dalston, in the far south. Presumably Robert's regnum hasn't kept the region as well stocked with brightly coloured Ray-Ban ripoffs and tight red trousers as they would like: I count three open attacks on the King's armies in a few months.
The latter is tougher, but the possibility of nabbing a spouse is growing more promising as the years go on. Ned's illness has given some of Westeros's eligible women the time to reach marriageable age. Primary amongst these potential wives is Mya Stone. She's one of Robert's many bastard daughters, and although Ned would take a small prestige hit for marrying her, she's a better option than most. I write a list to weigh up her pros and cons.
She's attractive! But she's scarred. She's gregarious! But envious. She's a poet! But she's greedy. With a surfeit of ladies to choose from she'd be mid-table, but my woman-cupboard is bare. As is sensible when deciding to spend the rest of your life with someone, I shrug, consider the worst that could happen, and ask her to marry me.
She accepts quickly and I prepare Winterfell for a wedding feast, to which I invite all my vassals. They're joined by a troop of wandering jongleurs, in off the street. I hate jongleurs, but for some reason having them there jongling around while my guests eat is worth five prestige points. I let them in on the proviso that they don't jongle anywhere near me, and get down to the serious business of stuffing my lordly face with capons to demonstrate how virile I am to my new wife.
The wedding clears out, my servants clear up, and I bundle the jongleurs out into the cold Winterfell night. I'm still riding a post-disease, post-marriage high, so when an invite comes in to attend a tournament I accept, and take part in the jousting competition. I bring my new wife along and show off to her by using a ten-foot pole to whack another man carrying a ten-foot pole off a horse. Apparently she likes that, as she's pregnant within the month.
I'm finding life with Mya charmingly simple. It took Ned and Catelyn years to truly love each other; within a few months I was given the option to buy Mya a set of earrings that apparently made me utterly irresistible. Mya's now in love with me—either Crusader Kings 2 has a strange view on women or I've married a materialistic idiot.
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