Full Summary: Despite promising never to give life to a child with the hair of a Baratheon, Cersei Lannister ended up accepting a boy with brown hair into her life, it reminded her of a younger Robert but she could not bare to have him killed. The boy was Jon Baratheon, the second son of Robert Baratheon and the only child with brown hair, when he turned a certain age, he was taken to Casterly Rock alongside his sister Myrcella at the behest of Tywin Lannister. The Old Lion of the Rock wanted to groom Jon to be his next heir. For nearly six years, Jon and his sister were fostered under the care of their grandfather and were taught how to play the game. Yet despite the years spent in a Lion's Den, Jon still kept the tradition of being too honorable, but unlike Eddard Stark, he would do anything to ensure the safety of his family and loved ones.
When Jon was fifteen, he was betrothed to Arya Stark, the second daughter of Eddard Stark. The two were an instant match in heaven after Robert spotted them laughing and whispering quietly in the godswood away from the prying eyes of others. Arya had at first made a huge fuss about the betrothal contract and threatened to skin Jon alive if they were wedded, but she calmed down when she got to know him a little more better. As part of the contract and the deal of Eddard Stark being the Hand of the King, Arya along with her sister journeyed down to King's Landing to get a better understanding of the southron capital city. And no matter where he is, even when he's out hunting, trouble always seem to follow Jon Baratheon.
Character Ages:
Robb Stark, Joffrey - 16 years old
Theon Greyjoy – 17 years old
Sansa Stark – 15 years old
Arya, Myrcella – 12 years old
Jon Baratheon – 15 years old
Tommen, Bran – 10 years old
Rickon – 6 years old
The characters' ages are somewhat similar to the TV adaption (with the exception of Jon)
Chapter One: The Gathering of the Storm
Outskirts of Bronzegate (Renly Baratheon's hunting camp)
"Tell me this is not true."
"I'm afraid it's true, nephew." Renly Baratheon answered softly. He, himself could not believe that his brother was dead and Joffrey had usurped the throne before the body was even cold. Not only that, Lord Eddard Stark was accused of treason and thrown into the black cells, leaving the Warden of the North's fate at the hands of the Lannisters. He hated to admit it, but a war with the Lannisters is unavoidable. "Your older brother has taken the throne for himself with the backing of several Lannister men-at-arms during the night, when Lord Stark went to confront him in the morning, he had him arrested and ordered the execution of everyone that came with the Stark household. No one was spared. Not even the servants." He continued slowly.
"What about Arya and Sansa?"
"Lady Sansa is being held hostage at King's Landing and there has been no word of your betrothed, the reports are sketchy to say of late." Renly bit his tongue and waited for his nephew to nod. "The word is that she's still hiding within the slums of the city with dozens of goldcloaks searching for her." He stared at his nephew for a while and studied his reaction, the young Stag was fuming from head to toe and one could feel the heat resonating from the boy. Renly had to agree that his nephew is more Lion then Stag after being fostered at Casterly Rock at the behest of Tywin Lannister. Any of his thoughts were interrupted when a young girl with bright golden hair rushed in.
"Jon! Jon! Is it true? Did Joffrey order the arrest of Uncle Eddard?" The girl asked, almost on the verge of tears. "Why? Why would he do that? Did mother consent to that? Please tell me it's not true!"
"It's true Myrcella..." Jon sighed, hugging his little sister close to him. He gently stroked her back and whispered soft words of comfort and forced a smile, Myrcella only sobbed even harder and refused to let go of his tunic. Before leaving the Red Keep for his annual hunting game, Myrcella had ran into Jon and his retinue before they left the Great Hall and begged with him to let her come with, and argued they did about her safety. At the end it was her sweet green eyes that tore through his stern facade, not even the ever stoic Barristan Selmy could hold against her eyes. That thought only made his grip tighter around her shoulders. He turned his gaze towards his uncle. "Is there anything else?"
Renly nodded his head. "Our scouts have sighted a massive Northern host at least twenty thousand strong en-route to the Riverlands, being led by Lord Stark's eldest son. No doubt they are marching for the capital. To either answer Prince Joffrey's summons or give a show of brute force of the Northern military might, from what I know of the Starks...they will not bent their knees to someone that had just brutally murdered their own kinsmen." He paused and pondered for a moment before continuing. "Jon, give me three days and I can have the might of the Stormlands under your command. And with my marriage to the Tyrells, the might of the Reach can be yours too. Stannis will no doubt declare his loyalty to you, he was there when our brother made his decision to make you his heir instead of your brother. No matter what you decide, know that I stand by your side."
Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked at Myrcella and saw the look in her eyes. No word needed to be said before the two siblings as he gave his answer. "Call the banners. Summon each and every single vassal lord under your command and order Lord Tyrell to do the same, have the men rally at Storm's End. I'll meet you there after I'm done here." Renly inhaled sharply before inclining his head and walking out to do his nephew's bidding. Jon watched intently as his uncle left the tent before calling the only two knights of the Kingsguard that were assigned to him by his father. "Ser Barristan. Ser Arys." The two said knights entered when called. "A war with the Westerlands might be inevitable and my sister is not safe with me on the field, once my uncles arrive with their host, I need you to protect her at Storm's End where she'll be safe." Myrcella looked ready to argue but one sharp look from her brother made her grumble about unfairness. "Will you do that for me?"
"We will do as you command, Your Grace." Ser Barristan reassured much to Jon's relief. "There is another thing, Your Grace." He shared a glance with his younger comrade before turning his hardy gaze towards his liege lord's son, the boy he had sworn to serve. "Lord Ralph of House Buckler has raised his House in support for your cause the moment the ravens arrived, he and his retainers are outside our encampment awaiting your orders." Jon looked startled by the news before nodding his head in acceptance.
"Do you have something in mind, Ser Arys?" Myrcella inquired softly, watching the young knight shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Both Jon and Ser Barristan turned to look at the youngest and latest member of the Kingsguard as of date.
"I do, Princess." Ser Arys answered as he regained his confidence. "It's more of a proposal. Our other brothers have sworn to serve the King of Westeros, whoever that is. In this case, it is the usurper, Prince Joffrey. No doubt the usurper has already replaced some if not all of the Kingsguard with his own people, with the support of the Queen regent." He stood to his full height. "It's clear that a war is inevitable with the usurper and his supporters, and His Grace needs all the help and protection he can receive. I am imploring you to hand-pick the best soldiers or knights from the Stormlands as your personal bodyguards on the field of battle." He continued.
"A generous thought, Ser Arys." Jon regarded the knight with a small grin. "Very well, I shall do as you say and speak with my uncle about this. I'm sure we'll come to some sort of arrangement. But in the mean time, I would really love to have you two on board as my guards."
"Our blades are yours to command, Your Grace." Ser Barristan spoke softly. "And if I may offer my own insights on this oncoming conflict, I sincerely hope you will consider negotiating an alliance with the Northerners. You are, in other words, betrothed to Lady Arya. I don't see why the North won't back your claim for the Iron Throne." He suggested.
Myrcella nodded her head eagerly. "Lord Robb seems like an honorable man, I'm sure he'll make the right decision. Besides, he did give Ghost as a gift during your fourteenth namesday..." Her eyes soon widened before she jumped up with joy. "I got it!" Everyone stared at her as if she was crazy. "Ice! We can use Ice! Uncle Eddard's sword. He gave it to me before we rode out."
"I meant no disrespect Princess." Ser Arys said slowly as he eyed the young girl. "How...in the seven hells did you get Lord Stark's ancestral sword?"
"Um..." Myrcella gulped and bit her lips. "I might have overheard Joffrey threatening to melt down Ice and add it to the Iron Throne, and I might have overreacted too much and went straight away to tell Uncle Eddard and I somehow convinced him to give it to me." She said. "For safekeeping." She quickly added and watched as two eyebrows went up as one excluding her brother, she sighed and pouted. "Don't believe me. Check the saddle on my horse."
Jon shook his head in amusement. "That's my sister..." He commented in between fits of laughter.
"When did the Princess learn to ride?" Ser Barristan asked, more curious than worried.
Jon smiled and folded his arms. "That's one of the benefits for being wards to the Old Lion of the Rock, grandfather totally doesn't give a shit to the rules of the court. 'If she wants to ride, I'll give her a horse. If she wants to fight, I'll give her a sword. One thing you must learn as my wards is that I am not like those fools down in King's Landing, I believe strongly that my grandchildren must learn how to fight and defend themselves from traitors and backstabbers.' Aye, that's what he told us on our first year at Casterly Rock, he was true to his word when he gave Myrcella a fully grown horse the following year and a sword the next." He said with a smirk that would rival Petyr Baelish tenfold.
"Does that mean Lord Tywin would support your claim?" Ser Arys inquired.
Myrcella shook her head immediately. "No. Grandfather will be forced by mother and Uncle Jaime to support the Iron Throne, but he is no fool. He'll probably order Lord Brax to declare for us or Lord Westerling of the Crag, one word from grandfather and they'll do his bidding even if it meant going against the throne." She stated confidently.
"We won't know if grandfather will back my claim for the Iron Throne, but there will no doubt be conflict inside the Westerlands. I know Ser Raynald Westerling, I trained by his side during my time at Casterly Rock whenever grandfather called his vassals for a summit. He'll stand by my side the moment the news reaches his ears." Jon stood to his full height, pulling Myrcella with him. "In the mean time, we should probably head for Storm's End where the might of my uncle's forces would rally. Have Lord Buckler and his men cover our rear as we make our move, we do not want any goldcloaks on our trail...knowing my brother, there is a high chance of them already riding out to find us."
"They won't lay a finger on you, Your Grace!" Ser Arys declared. "Not while I draw breath!"
"I appreciate your loyalty Ser Arys." Jon said with a grim smile before looking serious. "Prepare the horses at once. We ride for Storm's End." His hand reached out to stroke the fur of the white direwolf gifted to him by Robb as a token of friendship, Myrcella stood beside him with her eyes on Ghost, they shared a grim smile before stepping outside to face their destiny.
Opposite the Trident (Robb Stark's encampment)
Robb Stark, the eldest son of Eddard Stark and heir to the lordship of Winterfell and Warden of the North stood at the opposite bank of the Trident with the might of the Northern host at his back. He had called the banners upon receiving the letter of his father's arrest written by his younger sister's hand, thirty thousand men from nearly every House had answered his summons, there was all but one obstacle remaining. To get his host across the Trident. For six hundred years, House Frey has held the Twins and for six hundred years, they have never failed to exact their tolls. The Twin towers of Frey is all that stands between Robb Stark and the Lannisters in the South. Time was running short. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the Lannisters take his father's head, he had to get his army across the Trident no matter the cost.
"Why isn't he allowing us to cross?" Robb demanded, his fists clenched at his side. "He's grandfather's bannermen! It's treason not to answer his lord's call to arms."
"You'll expect nothing of Walder Frey." Jon Umber otherwise known as 'Greatjon' said gruffly. "It's not that surprising really if you truly know the man. He and his retainers did not answer the call to arms when the Riverlords rose in support during Robert's Rebellion, they only arrived at the last moment when the battle was over and the river ran red with Targaryen blood. Was known as the late Lord Frey ever since." He explained.
"Father rots in a dungeon. How long before they take his head." Robb retorted with dark eyes and a cold gaze. "We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now."
"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing." Theon Greyjoy stated boldly. "We have five times his number. You can take the Twins if you want to." He suggested.
"Have my horse saddled and ready." Robb ordered.
"Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes." The Greatjon argued.
"Or throw you into a dungeon." Theon added. "Or slit your throat."
Robb shook his head. "I'm not entering alone." He stated softly. "Like what Theon said, I have more men than he has on his bridge. And if getting across the Trident meant butchering a few Freys, I would gladly do so. Theon, escort my mother to the rear and then return to my side." He watched as his brother in all but blood nodded before he turned around to face the northerners that marched with him all the way from Winterfell. "Men of the North! Hear me! Lord Walder Frey sits upon his towers and expects us to wait while the Riverlords are rallying to my grandfather's call, the longer we sit here and wait the Lannisters will burn Riverrun to the ground and the entire Riverlands will fall to the Westerlands. And your overlord. My father. Will die for crimes that he did not commit and the entire North will suffer for it. Is this the future you want for our kinsmen?" The answers were shouts and yells of denials from the gathered men. "I plan to storm the Twins and root the late Walder Frey for being an oathbreaker, who's with me?!" He asked and awaited the response. Some men stormed their spears on the ground while others raised their voices in agreement.
"Lead us my lord!" Chorused the northsmen.
"Take the bridge!" Cried another.
"Then in the name of my father, I bid you stand, men of the North!" Robb bellowed at the top of his lungs as he hurled himself onto the saddle of his horse. With one swift movement, his longsword was high in the air, he slowly pointed it downwards and yelled. "Come with me and take this bridge!" And with that the host began to advance. But the northsmen sang no more. 'For the North' they cried with one voice loud and frightening, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept across the bridge of the Twins.
The soldiers of House Frey were taken aback by the sudden assault of the Northern host that many were cut down where they stood before having a minute to sound the alarm. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late. With his direwolf, Grey Wind at his side, Robb Stark smashed down the doors leading to the Great Hall of the Twins, behind him marched Theon and several other knights and lords from the North. A member of House Frey attempted to stab him with a dagger from the side only to be cut down by Theon's sword, several others charged only to be met with the bloody steel of Robb's personal guards. In less than a minute, ten members of House Frey lay dead with their guts split open before the eyes of many.
"What is the meaning of this treason?!" The Lord of the Crossing spat angrily. "Barging into my castle and killing my sons. I can have you hanged for this!"
"If anybody is going to be hanged today, it's you Lord Walder." Robb replied coolly. "Last I heard, House Tully has called the banners of her vassals and you're the only one that didn't answer my grandfather's summons. That clearly makes you an oath-breaker."
"Oath-breaker is it!" Walder Frey seethed in anger as he stood to his full height. "I will not cower before you. Stark. Baratheon. Lannister. You can all go to the seven hells for all I care. Go on. Finish what you started." He took a step forward and laughed when Robb hesitated. "You may be in command of a large army but your compassion will lead you nowhere in Westeros, you're just like your father, an honorable fool trapped in the Lio-?!"
"SILENCE!" Robb growled as his blade separated Walder Frey's head from his body. It took a minute before he realized what he had done, but he didn't have time to feel sorry for himself. Walder Frey deserved it for speaking ill of his lord father. Surely the old gods would understand why he had to take an unarmed man's life away. Without another word, he lifted the head by the few strands of gray hair and stormed back outside, the sounds of battle soon engulfed around him as the Freys fought desperately to defend their bridge. In one loud voice, he silenced the skirmish. "Your lord is dead! Lay down your arms and I swear upon the old gods and the new that no harm shall befall you, continue fighting in the name of your lord and I'll personally see to it that the name of Frey is removed from the books of history!" He watched as a Frey soldier threw down his sword and knelt, followed by another and another, it didn't take long before the remaining soldiers knelt down in submission.
"Lord Umber, prepare our men to cross the Trident." He said without turning to face the Greatjon, he tossed the decapitated head aside and allowed it to roll down the steps of the Twins. "How many men did we lose taking this accursed bridge?" He asked the nearest lord standing to him.
"At least fifty men and ten horses."
Robb looked downcast at the report before turning around. "Their deaths will not go unavenged, round up the Frey men and have them march with us to Riverrun. They will be our vanguard. They will stand at the forefront when we face the Lannisters, none of our men are to engage until the Frey lines are thin." If his bannermen weren't shocked by his command, they were now. "Lord Karstark, I'm placing you in charge of their 'well-being'." The Lord of Karhold nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Lord Bolton, have three hundred of your retainers stay at the Twins while the rest marches on, they are to hold the bridge until a suitable lord from the Riverlands arrive." The Lord of the Dreadfort inclined his head in support of the decision. "If that is all...let's get off this fucking bridge."
Robb Stark's decision to take the Twins rather than pay the toll was a bold one indeed, his attack on the bridge and execution of Walder Frey would go down in the history books as a warning to all vassals to obey their overlord's command. As of this moment, the members of House Frey were nothing more than a rabble of what they once were. If any of the Freys were to doubt the orders of their overlords ever again, all they had to do was to gaze up onto the ramparts where the rotting head of Walder Frey and ten of his sons stood. It was a warning not to mess with the Young Wolf of the North. The Lannisters laying siege to Riverrun had no idea what was about to hit them, the reports from their scouts stated that the northsmen were still held up at the Trident when in fact, the northsmen had already crossed and were on their way to lift the siege.
Dragonstone (Stannis Baratheon)
"Lord Stannis! I must protest of your decision to allow that red witch to conduct her ceremony earlier this evening on the beach!" Maester Cressen in service to Dragonstone yelled in anger. "She's burning the statues of the Seven! It's blasphemy! An insult!"
"Melisandre is my adviser. I'm allowing her to conduct her ceremony so that her followers know that my recent decision in supporting my nephew doesn't mean I'm going to forbid them from worshiping their Red God." Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and Jon's eldest uncle answered tiredly. "If you have any problems with it, you can take it up with the woman herself. I'll hear no more about it."
Before the maester could say anything else, the said woman, Melisandre, entered the room.
"You have my gratitude, Lord Stannis, for allowing the burning of the false gods." She said with a smile that irked Stannis to the bone. "Such a pity you did not join us, I'm sure the Lord of Light would ensure victory should you pledge him your faith."
Stannis groaned inwardly. "I've already made up my choice before you conducted your ceremony. I've converted to the Old Gods of the Forest." He insisted much to Melisandre's displeasure. "My nephew is the rightful king, and I will gladly prove my loyalty by following the gods he worshiped." His glare hardened and his eyes did not leave until the red priestess took her seat amongst his assembled vassal lords of the Crownlands. He turned towards Matthos, the son of Davos Seaworth, whom was his trusted right-hand man for some time. "Read that to me." He commanded.
"I declare upon the honor of my house that my beloved brother..."
"He wasn't my beloved brother. I didn't love him, he didn't love me." Stannis interrupted.
"A harmless courtesy, my lord." Davos commented.
"A lie. Take it out." Stannis remarked.
"...that my brother Robet has only one true heir, Prince Jon Baratheon. The children Joffrey, Tommen..."
"Make it Jon Baratheon, the White Wolf." Stannis interrupted again. "It's his title, after all." He paused before speaking again. "Strike out the names of Tommen and Myrcella, they're Jon's siblings in all but blood and they have done nothing as worse as Joffrey." Matthos nodded and made the necessary amendments.
"The child. Joffrey Waters is born of incest to Cersei Lannister and her brother, Jaime Lannister. I also swear that..."
"Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, call him what he is. Wait, make it Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Whatever else he is, the man's still a knight." Stannis ordered.
"By right of birth and blood, I declare my support for the rightful heir of the Iron Throne. Let all true and honorable men declare their loyalty to the true heir, Jon Baratheon, the White Wolf. Signed, Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships."
"My Lord," Davos spoke up. "perhaps it would be best to wait until you consult your nephew in person before we send this declaration to the kingdoms. He doesn't know the...truth about his siblings' parentage and he may not take this course of action very well."
"When Eddard Stark learned the truth, he only told me. I will not make the same mistake." Stannis retorted before sighing. "I know Jon won't be happy with my decision, but the realm needs to know the truth, at least Tommen and Myrcella aren't included in the letter, I'll take full responsibility if he's angry. So aye, send copies of that letter to the entire realm, from the Arbor to the Wall."
King's Landing (Arya Stark)
'Go to your father' Was all Arya Stark could remember as she walked down the streets of King's Landing after narrowly escaping execution by Lannister men, she did as she was told and ran to the stables only to find members of her father's guard and household dead on the ground. She recalled searching for the sword that her betrothed had secretly made for her before he left King's Landing, Needle, she called it. It was there where she killed her first man. No. First boy. It turns out that the stable boy was loyal to the Queen regent and sold her father's guards out when the goldcloaks came knocking. She lost all sense of her teachings of honor that moment and stabbed the boy to death with one thrust of her sword, after which she fled the scene in terror at what she had done.
Everything was so wrong. The guards of her House were dead, the servants were dead, the tutor that her father hired was dead and even the Septa herself was cut down where she stood. Her sister was nowhere to be found, no doubt sucking to the Queen regent and her beloved Joffrey. At least that is what she believes as she moved from street to street trying to rid the armored warriors following her from behind, she knew they were not Lannister men as they were all garbed in steel and they are definitely not goldcloaks. But almost everywhere she turned, she seemed to run into more of them, it's as if they were everywhere at every single moment. She cursed her luck and tried moving south, bypassing an alley only to find herself trapped in a dead end, she heard the sounds of heavy armored footsteps. Drawing out Needle from her waist, she pointed it at the score of men. She rather die before being used as a hostage against Jon, she went into a readied stance, she has hid for five days and that was considered a feat in her books. She was tired of running and hiding.
It's time to end this.
"What do you want with me?" She cried, putting on a strong face. "Wha...?!" She stammered as the crowd of soldiers knelt to the ground before her. "What's going on? Who are you?" She demanded.
"Princess Arya." One of the men, most probably the leader, greeted humbly. "My name is Garlan Tyrell, I am here on orders by my brother, Willas to escort you to Storm's End where the might of the Reach is assembling." He introduced himself and his intentions.
"I am not leaving King's Landing without my father." Arya declared.
Garlan studied the young Stark girl and sighed, he knew the Starks, they were loyal to their own until the very end. Even now, a great Northern host approaches the Riverlands with a clear intention of making the Westerlands bleed for what happened when Lord Eddard Stark was wrongfully accused of usurping the Iron Throne. He sighed and nodded. "I give you my word that I'll do what I can to learn where the Lannisters are keeping your father...and your sister before we plan on how to get them out of here. In the mean time, I implore you to come with us." He pledged with his right hand over his heart.
Arya sheathed Needle and nodded her head. Garlan and his men rose to their feet and escorted Arya to a small hut on the outskirts of the city where several horses awaited just in case, a score of Tyrell men disguised as smallfolk were sent back into the city to learn the location of Eddard Stark.
"How many men are there?" She inquired after changing out of her ragged dress for leather armor.
Garlan laid a map of King's Landing over the table and pointed to several locations. "I have six men posing as goldcloaks near the Mud Gate which will be our extraction point when we discover where the false king is holding Lord Stark. No doubt the city would be in riot and we need a way out of the chaos as soon as possible. Twenty are posing as smallfolk near the Sept of Baelor." At Arya's curious expression he explained. "Most likely the usurper would want Lord Stark to confess to his crimes to the people and there is only one place they could hold that. In front of gods and men. In other words, the Sept. And lastly there are ten good men guarding this very hut where you will stay while I enter to rescue your father." Arya looked ready to protest before he spoke again. "Your safety is paramount to King Jon's cause. If you were to fall into the hands of the Lannisters, all would be lost."
Arya huffed and folded her arms. "And what about you? What would House Tyrell do should you fall?"
Garlan wasn't known as Garlan the Gallant for nothing, he stood to his full height and narrowed his eyes at the Red Keep in the distance. "It's very unlikely that I would fall to the blades of Lannister soldiers, every Reach knight is worth a thousand Lannister swords."
Arya rolled her eyes. "That is exactly what Desmond said, and twenty five men died when only seventeen Lannister men fell." She scoffed quietly about the guard that assured her that one northman is worth ten southron swords, and that very same guard was cut down after killing one Lannister soldier. She had kicked the body in anger after calling him a liar. But now she know that it wasn't his fault that her father was captured, she knew they were taken unaware judging by the posture of the bodies and the killing blows. Most of the guards were stabbed from the back as were many of the retainers.
Garlan must have overheard for he replied. "The Lion may have won a decisive victory against the Direwolf but with the Rose and Stag on their side, the Direwolf will have their revenge. Trust me when I say that a Rose is as deadly as a Direwolf with fangs." He turned and made his way to the door. "The usurper will pay for his crimes in due time, all you have to do is wait for the perfect moment to strike. Do me a favor milady and stay here, we cannot risk the goldcloaks learning of your existence." Arya grumbled but gave a small nod. Once outside, he turned to his men. "Stay here and guard her with your life. Should the odds turn against us, make sure she reaches Storm's End safely. Let no harm befall the future Queen at any cost. And be sure they find the letter discriminating Littlefinger." The men saluted with their fists over their hearts, he smiled in content and dismissed them back to their roles as 'mercenaries' under the command of Petyr Baelish.
"Milord!" A 'goldcloak' rode towards the hut.
Garlan looked up at the rider. "What is it?"
"The smallfolk are gathering at the Sept of Baelor as we speak. The usurper is demanding Lord Stark to confess to his crimes before the realm before giving punishment, the Queen regent wishes for Lord Stark to take the Black and forfeit all titles and deeds. But the usurper is thinking otherwise. He has brought the royal executioner with him!" The 'goldcloak' reported.
"He's planning to execute Lord Stark for treason!" Garlan growled and clenched his fists. "Ride back into the city and spread the word, we strike the moment Lord Eddard Stark is brought out. Keep an eye out for Lady Sansa Stark as well and grab her if possible." The 'goldcloak' nodded and rode back into the city with much haste. His eyes turned towards the distasteful city that they call a capital. "So it begins. Joffrey...you fucking piece of shit." He mounted his horse and rode hard.
Eddard Stark wasn't going to die.
Not on his watch.
Author's Note: Below is just a brief description of the military might from the different Kingdoms of Westeros.
The North - 30, 000 men (en-route to Riverrun) 10, 000 men (Spread across the North)
The Riverlands - 10, 000 men (at least half at Riverrun)
The Vale - 45, 000 men (half of which is eager to aid Jon)
The Stormlands - 30, 000 (most gathering at Storm's End)
The Westerlands - 50, 000 men (most are at Oxcross) 14,000 men (with Jaime Lannister)
The Reach - 80, 000 men (most are en-route to Storm's End)
The Crownlands - 15, 000 men (Disputed, half rallying to Joffrey)