It contradicts everything they'd thought and assumed. Brandon, so distressed and enraged at the idea of their sister being (Ned shuddered) raped and imprisoned by a lustful Targaryen prince, that he had thrown all caution to the wind to demand her release. And he and their father had payed the price for it.

No, Ned thinks to himself, his eyes shadowed upon her. He cannot tell her this. Not now. And he does not know how he will ever bring himself to it, although he knows eventually he must.

He has to smile at how she nestles against him, as she had sometimes on long trips home in the wagon as children, or sitting by the fire far past her bedtime. The closest in age, there had always been a special connection between the two of them. He turns his head to kiss her hair, as his arms fold around her, crushing her against him. "I'm so glad," is all he says. "I've missed you. More than you can know."

More than he can say.

Over the top of her head, Ned contemplates the horizon, without attempting to extract himself from the embrace. Frankly, if Lyanna never lets go, it'll be too soon. "Do you think we are in Essos?" he muses to her. "I would swear, this is nowhere in Westeros."