A Different Song

by Shogun24

AU- Same characters. Different Song. Will the outcome change?

1. The Quiet Wolf

Author's Notes: Well, It's been a long time since I suscribed to this site and I think I'm finally ready to post this.

I must say, I never thought I would try and write any kind of fic, but this setting just seemed to call to me, ideas just churned in my brain until I finally said "To heck with it, I'm doing this."

And here we are, with my first attempt ever at writing.

I welcome Criticisms which might help for later chapters.

So please Enjoy

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or any of its characters. They are the property of GRRM.

A Different Song

By Shogun24

"When has it ever been right to punish someone for existing?"

Chapter 1: The Quiet Wolf

I am the Lord of Winterfell.

The words felt unreal to him, more than a year and yet he still expected someone to correct him. The Lord of Winterfell was always a Stark that was the truth.

Brandon is dead, Father is dead.

He wished he could refuse it, that his father still lived, perhaps in the dungeon of the mad King, Brandon with him, screaming to be let out, to fight for their honor against whoever champion Aerys might send against them.

You know what the truth is.

Yes, he knew the truth.

He was the Lord of Winterfell, his father, Rickard Stark, had been burned alive by Aerys II Targaryen, his brother, Brandon Stark, had been strangled to death as he tried to reach for his sword to save father.

Aerys had laughed at the spectacle.

"My lord?"

Blinking and looking down, Eddard realized he'd been gripping the reins of his horse tighter than usual. He relaxed his grip as he broke out of his thoughts and into reality, recalling once more where he was and who was with him.

He was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and at the moment Rebel commander against Aerys II Targaryen.

"My Lord, are you alright?"

He looked at his companion to the right, the one who had been with him through so much in so little time.

"Just lost in thought Howland" He replied to his friend.

A laugh came from his other companion, one whose respect he'd had to earn. Yet when he did, his loyalty and trust became unshakeable.

"Stop acting like a woman Reed, our lord is not going to break at a gentle breeze!"

"As you say, Umber" Reed replied stoically before going silent once more, all the while looking forward.

Jon "Greatjon" Umber just groaned at his companion's "lack of spirit", and "too serious" personality while the rest of their companions either laughed at the familiar byplay, or just remained silent through it all. Even Eddard could only look at it and resist the urge to smile.

Two more different people there could not have been, yet here they were riding alongside, as if it'd been pre-ordained.

Howland Reed, a Crannogman from the Neck, a friend who had been with him through so much in the brief period he'd known him. Since that fateful tournament at Harrenhal all through the entire Rebellion, Howland had proven himself a solid rock of support for the unexpected Lord. Short, silent, pragmatic, Reed still possessed a courage and bravery who was only matched by his loyalty.

Then again, the Greatjon does not seem to lack those either.

Greatjon Umber, a member of the House known for their hardiness. The Northern climate had tempered them into being tough, strong, loyal, and among them perhaps none exemplified these temperaments better than the Greatjon. Tall, boisterous, and prone to grand proclamations, he who had questioned his fighting skill and prowess, had now become his man unto death.

How a man so different from Howland could grow to be so similar he'll never know.

He will become the Heir now, there is no-one else.

Mors Umber, the current head of the house, no longer had any issue. His sons had died in the trident, leaving only the Greatjon as a viable candidate for taking over. Ned was sure that Mors would grieve in that way only Northman could, and inmediately start preparing his House for the dangers of the season and it's new leadership soon after.

That was the way of the Northmen, where grief was a commodity not many could afford.

Certainly, not even for Father and Brandon

Thoughts of his friend becoming head of House Umber turned once more to earlier recollections, Ned's aspect becoming grimmer as memories once more played through his head:

He remembered their godswood; the tall sentinels armored in their grey-green needles, the great oaks, the hawthorn and ash and soldier pines, and at the center the heart tree standing like some pale giant frozen in time.

He remembered Brandon and Himself, practicing their swordplay in one the many courtyards.

He remembered his father in the Great hall, dispensing both justice and sage advice when necessary.

He remembered Lyanna, riding wildly through the woods laughing all the way without a care in the world.

Lyanna…

Her sister, the one who's kidnapping had started it all. From there it all spiraled down; Aerys killing his family, Jon Arryn raising his banners, Robert fighting for his intended, till they arrived at the final battle, where all forces where joined to meet the Loyalists…

The Battle of the Trident, as its name implied in that trio of rivers split in the form of a trident, on the Easternmost river, the one called the Green Fork, through fertile valleys and green woodlands, past thriving towns and the castles of the river lords crossing what people were already calling the Ruby Ford, that was where the Loyalist Army had been broken…And where Robert had gained his vengeance.

The battle was still fresh in his memory.

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FLASHBACK BEGINS:

The rebel forces were assembled on the east banks of the Green Fork, Robert and his men had joined forces with Ned's. The Tully's had just agreed to an alliance alongside the Arryn's in exchange for the marriage of both daughters to Jon and himself. Would they be safe? If they lose…Don't think about it, not now, not here, not when HE is here.

Of course, they finally had enough strength to threaten King's Landing and it is now when HE appears.

HE is absent at Sumerhall, where Robert smashed Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell.

HE is absent at Ashford, where it was only through luck that Robert escaped with his life.

HE is absent at Stoney Sept, where it was only Ned's and Hoster's timely arrival that gave Robert the time to launch a counter-attack.

HE was expected at each of those battles, and was in none, Ser Darry and Ser Selmy were expected in this battle… and HE comes alongside them.

Finally, after so long HE is here, the cause of all the suffering, the one who started this conflict, the one person who it could be said is as guilty as Aerys for the death of Lord Rickard and Brandon…

Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

He missed the beginning and only now comes from wherever he's been, probably wouldn't have moved from where he is keeping Lyanna if they weren't a threat, and that is a thought that brings anger to his mind. What has he been doing to Lyanna? Has he brought her here in his arrogance? Or has he simply tired of her and discarded her?

Too many thoughts passed through his mind to focus on. And it was only the great booming voice of Robert's command which pierced through them as he shouted:

"RHAEGAR IS MINE!"

He was close enough to see the look on his friend's face as he shouted those words. Gone was the jolly and boisterous man he had known for so many years, instead as if by some mysterious agency, there is a Warrior King from the Age of Heroes who can only look in deep hatred to anything in its path to its enemy.

For the first time Ned gets a deeper meaning for his old friend's family words:

OURS IS THE FURY!

Then there is no more time to think as the army, already in battle formation, starts moving towards their enemy. He hears a horn blow signaling the start of the battle, he hears the war cries of the men, the sound of hooves striking the earth as Knights race towards their counterparts. Soon the two armies are crashing against each other in a wave of steel, armor and blood.

The cries of the men dying permeates the air alongside the smell of blood, the sound of steel on steel resonate through the battlefield as men die by the second. A spearman drives a Knight into the ground, a swordsman cutting another one's arm, more men dying by the score as arrows find their marks. A great brawling mass of men distinguished only by their insignia as they cut each other.

He moves his sword and stabs a men through his armor, he hardly has the time to avoid the cut from another bearing the sigil of House Martell, a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field. As he cuts him down he can't help but reflect on that fact, The Dornishmen are here, that means that their last numbers may be wrong, the Loyalist have more men than they thought.

He moves through confrontation after confrontation, cutting down Knights as they try to unhorse him. It is as he runs through a spearman that he notices for the first time that, due to his focus in the battle, he has moved apart from his companions. A quick search finds them engaged with a cluster of Dornishmen, yet just as he moves to join them he sees a commotion through the ranks.

The Three headed Dragon standard began moving, Rhaegar at its lead.

He cuts down many men wearing the stag of House Baratheon, and drives down many more as he advances through their army. Knights and swordsmen alike moved to intercept him only to be callously killed by him or his soldiers.

He truly seemed unstoppable at that moment, the Warrior come again as some of his men feared. Yet as he cuts down another Knight, he was distracted enough so he could not react to the fierce war cry of a Knight with the crowned black stag in a field of gold sigil, but this was no ordinary knight, for on his helmet were the antlers of a Stag, and on his hand the War Hammer of Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.

Robert had never been one to lead from the rear and in his advance he had eventually reached combat with Prince Rhaegar. Wasting no time he immediately tried to wheel about to meet Robert's advance, yet it was too late, for the Lord of Storm's End choose in that moment to ram his horse into Rhaegar's as he moved his Warhammer to crush his head.

Rhaegar could only put a hasty defense that managed to deviate the blow so it slightly striked his arm, yet that was enough for him to lose his grip in the reins and start falling to the ground, and at the same time Robert's horse crashed into Rhaegar's, forcing him to abandon it as well.

The both of them recovered quickly, Rhaegar using only his sword and Robert holding his Warhammer in both hands, the world held its breath for a moment as they faced each other, so powerful were the feelings there. All along them men were screaming and hacking, yet for them there was nothing but each other.

The next second the spell was broken, and Robert screamed at Rhaegar as he swung his Warhammer.

Ned wished he could have continued seeing the duel, but his distraction cost him dearly when he felt his horse whine and startle as it was speared by a man wearing the Targaryen insignia, Ned could only move quickly before the horse fell on top of him and it was only through sheer luck that he made it.

With quick reflexes he moved to confront the spearman, managing to avoid his thrusts and enter his guard in order to quickly finish him. He had come too close to death at that moment.

His nerves were at their peak so in that instant, as his instincts screamed at him, he was able to quickly evade a blow which would have split his hand from his arm. He countered the attack, but his opponent was more skilled than a normal knight. Once, twice, three times Ned attacked and they were all blocked or diverted till his opponent decided to counter.

If his first attacks had been fast then this one put those to shame, Ned struggled with every blow, moving in ways he had never thought possible in an attempt to keep himself alive. There was no room to counter, no time either, his opponent was determined not to give him a chance to recover.

It was only through luck that on one of their exchanges Ned's opponent mistimed and overextended himself, he recovered quickly enough but it gave Ned the time needed to put space between them. He was breathing heavily, this was no ordinary swordsman, and in this lull in combat he could see why.

White cloak, an intricate suit of white enameled scales, fastenings for breastplate made of silver, and a pure white unemblazoned shield…

Kingsguard.

Ned inmediately raised his guard once more. He shouldn't have bothered, for the next moment the Kingsguard spoke in a rough voice.

"Not a bad show traitor, if you hadn't turned you might have lived to become better"

Ned remained silent, through this exchange.

"Nothing to say? For the best, traitors shouldn't be granted last words. Know then that you face Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard"

Thus once the last word passed his lips Ser Jonothor striked once more.

Though Ser Jonothor was many years senior to Ned he fought like a man of the same age, parrying several of his strokes with ease and managing to land quite a few blows and dents into his armor.

Through it all Ned could not help but admire Ser Jonathor for his prowess with the sword, he had been able to land some blows, yet his opponent either made sure that they landed in ares that would not affect him, or made them strike in well armored places.

Truly, this was the difference between a Knight and a Kingsguard.

He was promptly brought back to reality when he felt his opponent strike his breastplate, denting it and drawing blood.

He just barely managed to raise his sword in time to block the man's next strike before their swords broke apart and the song of steel on steel began again, this time with slightly less fervor on his side.

He was younger than Ser Darry, and yet slowly but surely he was approaching the point of exhaustion where it was likely that any slip up would lead to his death.

Ser Jonothor must have seen it as well for in their next exchange he made a tiny but noticeable mistake, as he swung his sword to attempt a finishing strike he left a visible gap between his neck and breastplate.

Ned took the opportunity with everything he had left.

He moved to the right in order to feint a stabbing strike to the old knight's shoulder. In all his life he had never felt as exposed and afraid as in those few seconds between his movements and those of Ser Jonothor, wondering if his plan would work or if this was truly when he would meet his father and brother.

The Old Gods must have heard his prayers, and he remembered to breathe when he saw Ser Jonothor fall for his trick.

He would never forget the face of horror he made when he realized his mistake, or the face of pain when once he raised his Valyrian steel blade, Ice, he struck quick and true to the man's exposed skin, drawing blood, a lot of blood.

Ned pulled Ice out and then struck quickly again at Ser Jonothor's neck, blood spurting out.

Thus it was that Ser Jonothor Darry, Knight of the Kingsguard, met his end at the Battle of the Trident.

Knowing that he could do nothing to help the old knight, Ned said a quick prayer to the Old Gods to ensure Ser Jonothor found peace in death before moving on.

As he moved he took a moment to observe the battle, men were screaming and dying, shouts and battle cries deafened them all; "Targaryen", "For the prince", "Fire and Blood" came from the Loyalists and were answered by great cries of "For Robert", "Ours is the Fury" and even "Winterfell" from his own men.

Even so, the battle was ebbing and flowing all around the Green Fork. There was no clear winner yet in any of the minor and major conflicts being fought. Rebels were dying as fast as the Royalists, but it seemed that the Royalists were dying in greater numbers.

As Ned looked around the field, he saw his own companions in close proximity to himself.

They were engrossed in killing and holding back men who wore the three headed dragon crest of the royal family from interfering with his fight. However, seeing Ser Jonothor die had made their enemies increase their fury and their efforts so that they could kill them and Ned.

Unfortunately, they could not be at every place at once, so it came as a surprise to Ned, just as he was recovering his breath, that more soldiers took notice of him.

With a cry of "Targaryen" one of them began to swing at him. Caught off guard Ned barely had time to raise a sloppy defense and was pushed back as his new opponent prepared to unleash a new strike.

Ned hastily threw a counterstrike, intended more to distract than to make any kind of damage. It seemed to do the trick as his opponent raised his guard and gave Ned the necessary time to once more regain his bearings, yet all the other men started approaching, now cautiously, in order to end his life.

As Ned regained his breath he heard the sound of dying men farther away. Then a great voice boomed as it approached across the battlefield.

"What's the matter, is this all "Lord Stark" can do?"

One of his opponents gave a death gurgle as a great sword was shoved through his back, Ned could only look surprised at the blade as its owner lifted the body and then threw it away among the group of enemy swordsmen, distracting them enough for the giant to swiftly end their lives.

"See? They drop like flies" Said the Greatjon as he near-snarled a laugh

Greatjon Umber, nephew of the current Head of House Umber, a giant of a man who on first meeting had shown his derision of his Southern knightly education. His uncle had dealt with him with a few choice words and a cuff to the head, yet he still seemed to show some disdain towards his fighting prowess.

Ned snapped out of his thoughts quickly enough as the Greatjon moved ahead to another fight, only to be suddenly attacked. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that both Ned and the giant had looks of surprise across their faces as a mounted knight rammed his horse against the Greatjon, driving him to the ground.

Who was more surprised, himself or the knight (the sigil of House Mooton of the Vale he noticed), Ned would never know as the image of the Greatjon, still alive, holding the horses front legs by his hands and wrestling it was imprinted in their minds.

The Greatjon wrestling the horse had at the moment no defense, the Knight could not attack as well having to put all his abilities in controlling his horse. Thus with all the noise of the battlefield Ned could not make himself heard as he saw a second knight (this one with the sigil of House Yronwood) move towards the Greatjon.

Wasting no time, the second Knight made as to attack, and Ned moved against him even faster. The knight who had been more focused on the Greatjon at that moment could only watch in confusion at his sudden appearance. Thus the knight barely had time to move a muscle before Ned quickly and suddenly cut the back legs of his horse and shoulder tackled it.

The knight fell with his horse, could barely move as he was trapped beneath it as Ned thrusted Ice right through his throat.

Off to the side he heard the Greatjon shout in triumph as he lifted and threw the Knight with his horse to the side, followed by a quick stab to his heart.

They looked at each other after the fighting, Ned with his usual reserved composure, and the Greatjon as if re-evaluating him.

As Ned turned his back and moved back towards the fray and his companions, the Greatjon looked on, as he heard him call to his back.

"Are you coming?"

He didn't see the fierce grin that split the Greatjon's face, nor the respectful look that there now was in his eyes, yet he did hear the sound of his footsteps following and his voice as he replied with laughter and his sword at his shoulders.

"Am I coming!? Try and stop me!"

Both Ned and the Greatjon moved quickly through the battlefield, they were faced with more and more men bearing the Targaryen insignia, which they made short work of before continuing on.

They were close to Rhaegar's and Robert's battle, he could still hear Robert's howls of rage as he cursed Rhaegar and his family to whatever hell there existed.

More Knights fell to the Greatjon, as Ned cut all men who stood against him, they reached Ned's companions, and in the way he saw the terrible toll they were taking from the Loyalists.

Howland Reed, the smallest of them yet a demon in fighting, he favored the spear for its thrusting strikes and his capability to keep enemies at bay. Many a foe had tried to close the distance only to be stymied by his speed, or by his other companions at his side.

Quick, agile, and skill with a spear who could leave every opponent dazzled right before they died. Many swordsmen had recognized that skill and tried to give a wide berth, only to die by a stab they never saw coming.

Theo Wull, chief of the Wull clan of the mountains. He moved his axe with an economy of motion which showed his pragmatism in fighting. He did not go towards his enemies, he let the enemies come to him; many a man had done so, and he rewarded their courage with a quick death. Stubborn, precise, with no movement being wasted between swings. A hard man with no need for flourishes.

Ser Mark Ryswell, a man with a gentle disposition and soft speech, a man who in many occasions people had wondered why would he take arms instead of the collars of the Maesters.

If they saw him now they would probably understand.

Gone was the gentle smile replaced by a hard line, and his eyes who shined warmth on men, women and children were now two blocks of obsidian, hard and strong as he cut down any man that crossed his path. Sturdy, strong, determined. A gentleman out of battle, merciless once in it. A true knight.

Martyn Cassel, so many tragedies befell that man, yet like a proverbial mountain he stood tall. Three of his sons dead and he carried on like he always did; with a look in his eyes that dared the world to do his worst, he would take it and endure it.

And so it was in battle, as many enemies found when they attacked just to be swiftly blocked by his shield. Time and time again they exhausted themselves just for Martyn to hold strong and then return their strikes with a viciousness they were not prepared for. Proud, enduring, strong. A literal rock where the ocean broke.

Willam Dustin, boisterous, happy, quick to take insult yet quick to forgive as well, the one most similar to the Greatjon in both temperament and fighting technique. Swordsmen didn't attack him, he attacked the swordsmen.

The man knew not the word defense, always preferring to deal the damage rather than receive it. Aggressive, cheerful, never backing down from a challenge. He would be full of scars once the fighting was done, and would brag about every single one of them.

Every single one of them was worth at least three men, and when Ned and the Greatjon joined them the carnage became truly horrific.

Moving Ice for a thrust once again Ned engaged the assailants, cutting down one, then another, until he found a rhythm comprised of both attacking and defending.

At the same time his companions quickly adjusted to their Lord and the Greatjon's presence; covering each other, aiding in their attacks when one of them struggled. They quickly became a well preserved windmill, just grinding down every foe coming at them. Not a single one who stood against them escaped nor survived.

In close combat he swung his sword, two more men were cut down with the help of Lord Dustin, at the same time he moved quickly to block a blow that would have struck Lord Dustin's arm. The man did not notice as he quickly moved to end the spearman's life and searched for a new target. So did the Greatjon who now stuck close to Ned and fought by his side as they killed all enemy swordsmen who came at them.

Howland worked closely with Theo, the both of them a perfect combination against any who tried to oppose them, already many of the enemy were trying to give them a wide berth; not many succeeded, and those who did found no safety…

For those who escaped were then immediately faced with the merciless strikes of Ser Ryswell, cutting hands, legs and heads. They tried to rush him, just so that they could find that Cassel would stand between Ser Ryswell and them. They broke on his shield, they died by his sword.

All the while Ned tried to keep an eye on Robert, his companions and his men following him as he slowly but surely made a true dent in the enemy's lines. His his vision was constantly blurred by attacks from the loyalists, and eventually Ned lost himself to the clashing of steel once more, mowing down man after man, to the point that he hardly could see their faces.

He heard the booming voices of Lord Dustin and the Greatjon as they striked down more men together; he heard the cries of the wounded as they were quickly cut short by Ser Ryswell's blade, and all along he heard the encouraging shouts of his men. And once the final Knight who had stood in his way was dead, they broke through the loyalist line in one final push, leaving a pocket exposed.

It was the Greatjon who beat them all, as he gave a great War cry in order to expose the opening, as well as to declare their triumph.

"WINTERFELL!"

Yet at the same time, that war cry was immediately overshadowed by the strongest sound they had ever heard which resonated through the trident.

BOOOOOOOOM!

Ned, as everyone else was doing surely, looked towards the sound which had come from the exact place where Robert and Rhaegar had been fighting.

Their tiredness forgotten, Ned pushed himself in that direction, his companions not far behind as they cut any who stood in their way. Yet it almost seemed like there was hardly any resistance, and among the loyalists there appeared to be a look of fear as the lines who had been so solid before were now wavering.

The battle between Robert and Rhaegar was done when Ned arrived, on one side he could see Robert holding his side where he could clearly see a sword wound, his helmet was off and Ned could see his face.

Robert's face had a look that Ned never would have imagined his friend to wear, it was a combination of a smile of pure joy, alongside a look of the most pure hatred, battling alongside what could only be called satisfaction. It was disquieting to see his friend thus.

Even as he was, breathing heavily and holding an arm to his wounded side, he still showed an image of never wanting to leave this moment.

Moving his eyesight to where Robert was looking he could understand why.

For on the other side there was Rhaegar Targaryen, his helmet was still on so they couldn't see his face, but it wasn't necessary. His chestplate which had been proudly emblazoned with the three headed dragon was now a ruined piece of metal. The rubies which had been encrusted where nowhere to be seen, probably in the waters of the ford now.

And his body was not moving.

Robert's breathing was getting stronger, with each lungfull he gathered more of himself. He started getting up from his kneeling position, first his right leg, then the left one.

As he recovered himself, he took one last big mouthful of air as he screamed up towards the heavens.

"UHHRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

It was a shout of pure animalistic satisfaction, of a predator killing its prey, or in this case of a man killing his most hated enemy.

It was the shout of Robert Baratheon killing Rhaegar Targaryen.

And the Rebel army followed its lead.

With a mighty shout the rebel lines surged forward, Ned and his men alongside them, as they pushed, pushed, and pushed some more. The pure fury of Robert seemed to have channeled into their men as they cut down loyalist after loyalist in their path.

The lines wavered, then broke. Men started fleeing everywhere they could, dropping swords, shields, armor, all in a futile attempt to be faster and escape this hell. All the while the rebels cut them down, slashing, thrusting, cuting. Soon the river ran red with their blood.

And then it was over.

The Battle of the trident was won.

FLASHBACK END.

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After tending to the wounded the regrouping of the army had to be done, lords had to count their losses, armor from the dead and the wounded removed to send to one's family, or in the latter's cases to be repaired by the many blacksmiths of the area.

Compared to the Loyalists though their losses had been lighter, even with the added threat of the 10,000 Dornishmen who had been with them.

They should have expected them, but who could have thought that they would fight for the Iron Throne when Rhaegar had so obviously shamed his wife, the niece of Prince Lewyn Martell himself.

It was during this period of resting that Ned found that he had gained a new companion, for Greatjon Umber now became a truly loyal member of his guard. The battle having showed Ned's martial prowess and his behavior during the fighting, had turned him now into one of his more loyal supporters. The others seemed to take to the Greatjon well, with Lord Dustin being the most enthusiastic.

It was not until after the battle when the commanders met later on inside Robert's tent.

Robert was still wounded yet in greater spirits than before, having killed Rhaegar seemed to have revitalized him in a way. Jon carried that fatherly look that he had when in Robert's and Ned's presence, one could see that he was still worried about Robert's injuries and trying not to show it.

Of all the commanders in the tent the one who was not known completely to them was Hoster Tully, the Father in-law of both Ned and Jon. He had not joined them in rebellion until after the weddings had been performed, yet once the matter had been resolved he had entered with a passion to their cause. Many of his own bannermen had showed unwillingness to betray the Iron Throne, and Hoster had dealt with them by razing their castles and killing the men.

He was not a man one would want as an enemy.

It was there in the tent where the death of Prince Lewyn Martell was known.

This was the battle that would decide the course of the war, of that everyone was certain. Not only were Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Jonothor Derry slayed, but Ser Barristan the Bold also was captured. And the best news were already in the mouth of every single soldier; Rhaegar Targaryen slayed, killed by Robert Baratheon himself at what many already were calling the Ruby Ford.

Robert could not stop smiling at all, he'd been like a kid who has been told that he could have all the sweets he wanted and could play all night as well.

But still there was work to be done, with Rhaegar's death that left only one more opponent to them all; King Aerys II Targaryen.

That name was enough to spark the anger in Ned, who had then argued for him to lead the army to King's Landing and taking down Aerys once and for all. The others had been agreeable, Robert himself had suggested to appoint Ned to command the entire army while he recovered and Jon had seemed to accept.

But it was not Ned's intention to take the entire army, for he'd had a most disturbing thought all through the discussion in the tent; the news of the Trident will spread like fire through the entire Seven Kingdoms, the news might have reached Aerys himself.

Aerys, who once he heard the news might just decide to abandon King's Landing to its fate.

He was not called the Mad King for nothing, he could as easily decide to defend the city to the last man and the next second abandon it to his fate while he joined with the rest of the Loyalists.

As such, to stop him he would need to move fast, faster than all the army altogether could.

That was why, instead of taking the entire army, he declared that he would take only his Northmen with him, all 12,000 of them to king's Landing.

Jon had been against the plan, arguing how the need for a greater number of troops in case of a sudden attack from the Tyrell army, who by then should have heard of the death of Rhaegar.

Ned had argued back against Jon, claiming that the Tyrell forces were too big to move swiftly enough. Such a large force would take time to break the siege and move. He could reach King's Landing before they did, and put lookouts to warn him from any sudden movements.

Furthermore, Robert and Jon himself would be right behind him with the rest of the army, as such in the extreme case the Tyrells arrived sooner, he could retreat and join forces with them before they could catch him alone.

Ned argued for his plan to move quickly, explaining how that for all they knew Aerys and his family might try to escape the city and as such if they were to end the war they needed a quick and decisive strike before they did.

He fervently hoped they wouldn't see his true motive behind this plan. Great as his desire was for moving quickly there was another an even bigger one which had been building long since.

It was not his desire for ending this war, as much as he wanted to go back to Winterfell. And he as much as he wanted to save his sister, this one selfish desire of him would have to be placated first. It was eating him from the inside out and he could not have any rest until he achieved it.

For Eddard Stark would not rest until he avenged the death of his father and brother by taking Aerys' head himself.

Perhaps Robert, understanding very well the need for vengeance, saw the motivation in his eyes and agreed, or perhaps it was his logic which convinced Jon, but in the end they caved. It was agreed that Eddard would take his Northmen with him to King's Landing, and Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and Hoster Tully would follow as soon as possible.

And here we are.

That was how Eddard Stark found himself commanding 12,000 Northmen as they approached the city of King's Landing. His companions at his side, his scouts already deployed and prepared to warn him in case of enemy movements and surprise attacks. His men marching through the Kingsroad and the temperate weather typical of the Crownlands.

They marched through Lord Harroway's town, with his seven-sided sept, two-story inn and stone roundtower. All along they passed people now destitute because of the devastation that both sides brought to the conflict.

The Houses in the Riverlands which had remained loyal to the Targaryens had been put to the sword by his Father in-law. And the Loyalist host moving through the Riverlands had certainly no mercy to give to traitors and his supporters.

South of Lord Harroway's town, to the east of the God's eye, Ned could see the fires and destruction of farmlands and animals. It was easy to see the change from when they left the Riverlands and entered the Crownlands, as the difference between them were as great as night and day. Ruined farms and deserted villages giving way to secure farmland with scared peasants who ran and hid from his approaching host.

By the time they crossed the Ivy inn there were hardly any people passing by. Many must have been in hiding, knowing very well that they stood no chance against his army. A response was at least expected from the towerhouse at Sow's Horn but their defenders apparently trusted more their chances of survival to the thickness of their walls.

House Hogg was supposed to control that area, and House Hayford above them.

Both Jon and Robert had given him all the information of the Crownlands and its geography that was necessary, or at least as much as they could in a short period of time. One of the facts that stuck in his head was the House in the border with the Riverlands, a house that during the Battle of the trident there was no sign of its blazon: a green fetty over gold, a green pale wavy.

For all intents and purposes Ned expected them to at least try an ambush, perhaps later on as they were just leaving the Ivy inn. Yet there was not a movement of its soldiers, and all his scouts reported not having seen any movements or signs of ambush.

Ned became more apprehensive as they reached Hayford Castle, the seat of House Hayford. He expected a battle here, where being situated to oppose the passing of the army, the Hayfords would try to withstand a siege.

His surprise thus was pleasant when he found the castle with no soldier to man it.

All he found were scared peasants who informed him that the Lord and his family had taken his soldiers and abandoned the castle as soon as they'd heard of the death of prince Rhaegar, and thus the entire area was entirely undefended. As it was they would soon be swarmed by bandits unless someone did something soon.

Ned and his men stayed a night in the castle while he had his scouts checked the area in case of a trap. They came back a couple of hours later reporting the truth of the peasants. The place was completely naked, the Kingsroad was deserted and could still be used on the way to the capital.

The next day they moved at first light, leaving Hayford Castle behind, and the confrontation with Aerys firmly in mind. The closer they got to King's Landing, the more the memories had assailed him.

And so, Ned was readying himself to face his greatest enemy. The feelings of fury in his body, which he had been able to control in the road here, seemed to increase the closer they got to the capital. The night was cold as they marched yet inside him he felt a fire that warmed his bones and infused him with energy. He wanted to reach the city, he wanted to ride ahead of everyone and shout for Aerys to come and die, like his brother had done a year ago for Rhaegar.

That he held back was mostly because of his men, he had to keep reminding himself of that fact. They would follow him to their deaths if he attempted to be so foolhardy, so he held back and the cycle repeated itself over and over again.

As he once again tried to calm himself he heard the conversations of his companions. Or specifically, the Greatjon attempting to once again goad Reed.

"Come on Reed, these southern lasses will be spreading their legs eagerly for some strong northern warriors!"

"I already have someone back home."

"You don't have to marry each woman you lay with! With your attitude you'd think Creepers fuck just to breed"

"As you say Umber"

Once again failing to obtain a proper display of emotion the Greatjon groaned into his hand as Lord Dustin laughed at it all.

Point to Reed, Ned thought.

Ser Ryswell just listened to the interactions with a gentle smile as he occasionally checked his sword to make sure that it was in good condition. The only ones not making any sound were Theo and Martyn, both of them being more serious than the rest of the companions riding alongside.

As they marched he took the chance to once more inspect his host. All behind him marched the Bannermen sworn to House Stark and their retainers with them.

To the right he could see the sigil of House Manderly, the white merman with dark green hair, beard and tail carrying a black trident over a blue-green field. Lord Wyman Manderly having been injured in the last battle was still recovering, but still sent his men with Ned.

Next to them where the Crannogmen from the Neck, all as thick as thieves that to find their sigils among them was an exercise in futility, Reed would have been among them had it not been for their friendship.

To the left he could see the Flayed man of House Bolton. Even now the Bolton's were never a house to be completely trusted; rival kings at the same time of the Kings in the north, they had made the transition to being rival lords after the conquest by the Targaryens. Their leader, Lord Roose Bolton had probably the whitest skin and the coldest eyes one could find both in the North and the South. Combined with a soft manner of speaking and many people were disquieted by the man.

The Glovers marched alongside as well. Their blazon, a silver mailed fist on scarlet fluttering in the soft breeze. More than just allegiance motivated them, for among the men accompanying Brandon in King's Landing was Lord Glover's heir, Ethan Glover. Probably dead by now, the Glover's still had orders to rescue him if alive, and if dead to bring his bones to the North.

The Tallharts had sent their men as well, their sigil showing three green sentinel trees over a brown field. Their words bringing to mind a memory of days gone by. "Proud and Free", House Tallhart's words.

Those had applied perfectly to Lyanna back then, back when they were all together in Harrenhal…

He shook himself before he got lost in the memories again, they were too close to his objective to let himself be distracted once more. Focus, he had to focus in the future confrontation, the final one against Aerys and whatever forces he has gathered.

As the host approached two of the scouts they had sent came riding through. In their faces there was the look of fear and apprehension, so much that Ned could only speculate on what they had seen. He felt the beginnings of doubt pass through his fury infused mind, and just as quickly disappear leaving him only with a calm resolve to sort whatever news came at him.

Was I wrong? Have the Tyrells arrived? Were the Hayfords spying on us and now the loyalist are approaching?

This and more thoughts passed through Ned's head as he heard the labored breathing of the scouts. They had rode hard, with obviously some important news to report.

"What news? Has the Tyrell host moved faster than we predicted?"

"My Lord, it's not the Tyrells! We were almost in reach and sight of King's Landing, yet we could still see if there was an army at the place! We saw… My Lord an army is approaching! But it was not the Tyrell army! They came from the road that comes from the west, The Gold Road. And in their sigil there was a Golden Lion!"

Coming from the Gold Road. A golden Lion…

Lannister

The richest House in all of Westeros, made so by their Head of the House; Lord Tywin Lannister. A calculating, intelligent, politically astute, ruthless, and controlling man. A proven battle commander and politician, he remembered his father had once said that Tywin Lannister possessed an unflinching gaze that could make lesser men swiftly turn away.

Tywin's ability even came to the attention of Aerys, who had been so impressed with him that he appointed Tywin to be his Hand of the King. Once in power he had proven himself a brilliant administrator and held the post for twenty years of peace and plenty.

Some people had joked that it was he and not the king who really ruled the land. It was one of the reasons for Aerys' increasing paranoia and jealousy, which in the end drove the two into several bitter disagreements.

After Aerys refused to marry Cersei to his heir, and at the same time insulting Tywin by saying "You don't marry your heir to your servant's daughter", he also raised Jaime Lannister, Tywin's fifteen-year old son, to the Kingsguard, thereby robbing Tywin of his heir and efectively making him a hostage to use against his father.

Tywin resigned his position on some thin pretext and returned to Casterly rock after that, and many never expected him to lift a finger in aid of Aerys. We certainly didn't, not after the Trident at least.

Then again, it would also make sense.

Arrive with an army at Aerys' gates ready to fight for him, in exchange of a royal marriage of course. And with no one more qualified than him he would easily assume the position of Hand of the King. Aerys would not live for long and Tywin could set himself to be the true power behind the throne, thereby securing the ascendancy and the future of House Lannister for generations to come.

The rage which had been controlled inside his body suddenly rose to a crescendo at that thought.

Over my dead body.

Defiant, angry thoughts passed through his head as he listened to the rest of the scout's report.

They're not aware of our presence… About 10 to 12,000 of them… The Lannister sigil among them… They'll reach King's Landing in about two hours…

That last one brought him out of his musings, he didn't have time to lose now. Ned quickly called for messengers at the same time he ordered his cavalry to assemble as soon as possible.

I need to halt them, he thought, Just long enough so they don't enter the city, if my army can reach them just as I sow confusion…

Intercept them before they reached the city. He wasn't sure if it would work, not with the limited amount of time they had.

But it gave them a chance.

A chance is all I ask, he prayed to the old Gods.

As the orders were given and the cavalry began moving to the front, He send another messenger to relay his battle plans to the rest of the army.

"With the new threat approaching we will need to strike before they get to the city, the army will move at double march, faster if possible. Lord Karstark will be in command

I'll take the cavalry through the last of the Kingsroad. I'll ambush the Lannisters in the road, forcing them to slow down. We will then wait for my host to join us."

The messengers dispersed and soon enough he heard his lords shouting orders to their men.

He held his reins tighter as he prepared to ride, hearing the enthusiastic voice of the Greatjon talking to both Cassel and Wull.

"Better the army doesn't take too long, less we kill all Lannisters before they arrive."

"You should be more cautious, Tywin's a seasoned commander, he might not be so easily ambushed" Reed replied.

He should know, Ned thought, Crannogmen fight by ambush after all.

Ser Ryswell interrupted then what would have been another exchange between the Greatjon and Howland:

"Howland's right, this confrontation could end either way. But then," A small smirk grew on his face as he replied in a good nature at Reed "that's what you said at the Trident didn't you?"

The Greatjon laughed hard as he slapped Ser Ryswell's back. Lord Dustin accompanying in the laughter while Martyn and Theo remained as stoic as ever.

"See!" The Greatjon continued "Ryswell is with me on this! We'll make a present of the Lannisters to Aerys just before we kill him. And afterwards we'll find some comely lasses to warm us during the night. Maybe I'll even spare one for you. What do you say?"

Reed looked at the Greatjon's smiling and animated face for a moment before looking straight ahead and replying:

"As you say Umber"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We won't make it in time.

Ned rode alongside his companions, the Northern cavalry just behind him, and the same phrase repeating itself over and over again.

We won't make it in time.

He should have gotten word of the army by now. He had dispatched more riders to go ahead and let him know. Yet they all brought the same response.

No army in sight.

We won't make it in time.

Instead all they found were the remaining tracks and signs of an army which had already passed through. They had perhaps the same number that he, yet they moved faster than his cavalry!

We won't make it in time!

And Ned could only blame himself for that.

Or perhaps not, after all while the scouts had provided the information, nothing said that they could not be mistaken. Miscalculation of time was a possibility. Or perhaps they didn't cover their tracks and were spotted by the enemy's scouts without realizing, thus giving alerting them to their intentions.

Every single one of those reasons could have explained, and excused, why they had yet to see a single Lannister soldier. But for Eddard Stark, who at this moment had to consider the serious possibility that they might actually miss the enemy host, there was only the bitter feeling of failure as they quickly approached the last miles leading to King's Landing without encountering the Lannisters.

They were moving with all due speed, the horses making such noise that to be heard one had to shout.

"My Lord, we are nearing the capital!" yelled Ser Ryswell

"And no sight of the Lannister host yet!" Added Lord Dustin.

It was true, only a few more miles and they would be reaching King's Landing, and bristling with enemy forces, he thought. All their riding, all their efforts, just ended in failure.

As he prepared to give the order to halt, he was suddenly interrupted by Howland, as his voice carried over the group.

"Is not the dawn! So why does it look clearer up ahead?!"

Ned once more looked at the direction Reed had pointed to, it is clearer, he thought, the direction we are going doesn't point to the sun, it is also not early enough, what-?

His mind turning to dark thoughts, he clenched his teeth to stop his former order. Then with a firm voice he spoke.

"We are moving forward! Send word to the rest of the cavalry to stop as soon as we are in sight of the city!"

As the order was passed own Ned kept a tight hold over his reigns as more possibilities which he hadn't considered before moved through his mind.

He wouldn't. Tywin Lannister…

But the more he thought, it all seemed to suddenly fit together.

He was not going to join Aerys.

His mount raced alongside the others. The Greatjon being the nearest one to him while Howland remained a close second. Thus it was the three of them who had the dubious pleasure of being the first one to see King's Landing.

"By the Gods" Whispered Ned.

More and more of the Northern Cavalry arrived and stopped near Ned. More proclamations, less polite and more vicious followed.

They had stopped in front of a huge gate, the gate of the Gods, whose large opening had detailed carvings on the gatehouse and over the portcullis with eyes that seemed to follow as one neared the gates; the doors were opened, with the thick wooden panels whose dark color brought to Ned's mind the very nights on the North during Winter. It was an odd thought to have at the moment, but perhaps understandable for what they were seeing all around them.

A city in flames.

And over the ramparts flew the Golden Lion of Lannister.

"The Gods had nothing to do with this." Said Howland, a note of distaste in his voice as he looked up at the emblem.

Ned regained his composure quickly enough as he urged his horse forward, his men following him as they entered.

Smoke rose from the burning buildings, the cries of merchants and beggars were silenced as fire ravaged through the former stalls and wares. Cobbler's square had not been spared either, nor were its inhabitants either.

All along were bodies; men, women and children, dead and thrown all about. Some without legs, arms or even heads, women with cut throats and children had been ridden down by horses as they passed.

The fire was not confined there, for they could see how it had spread through the Lion Gate, reaching even the Guildhall of Alchemists. The smoke reached Baelor's Sept even if the fire had not arrived there yet. The Old Gate, with the Dragonpit was not spared either, for through the Street of Sisters you could hear the scream of people dying, as well as the laughter of cruel soldiers.

In the distance he could see the Red Keep rising above Aegon's Hill, yet the sight failed to instill any awe in him. Only a quick thought that passed through his mind.

There's hardly any fire there yet.

"This is disgraceful"

Ser Ryswell comment was met with similar ones from the rest of the companions. His face, normally so placid when not in battle now contorted into a mask of anger and disgust at the sight in front of him.

Which only deepened by the Greatjon's comment.

"Disgraceful!? It's a bloody treachery and cowardice! Do these Lannisters have no honor at all!"

That brought an even angrier muttering among the men. It was one thing to fight an army, even one defending a city, but this, this was…

Wrong, Ned thought, this is all wrong.

Butchered babies on the streets, old men and children accompanied them. More women than can be counted have and are still being raped.

Yet his sight still remained fixed to the Red Keep.

There's hardly any fire there yet.

"What now?"

That cool toneless voice stopped the angry talk around, showing neither anger nor sadness, only a query.

Ned was not the only one who turned to look at the owner of said voice, yet he was probably the only one not completely unfazed that it had been Martyn Cassel the one to make that question.

He looked around the entire carnage with those dispassionate eyes of his, he saw the butchered bodies of men, women and children that littered the area, saw the burned buildings and the destruction and devastation being brought to innocent people.

Yet not a single thing he saw seemed to move him from that ice cold disposition of his.

Like a proverbial mountain. Ned thought, pitiless and unmovable.

"What now, milord?" He repeated.

Ned looked at his companions and his men; all 1,500 of them, looking at him waiting now for an answer as to what their new orders were.

King's landing can't be saved now, too many soldiers and not enough of my men. But… But the Red Keep…

"The Red Keep."

Ned's words were delivered in a strong tone which brooked no arguments towards anyone. All companions, from the Greatjon to Ser Ryswell understood immediately.

Turning to look at his cavalry he immediately repeated his orders.

"We are moving to the Red Keep! We'll take the palace and hold it until Robert and Jon get here. Move at all speed until we get there, and kill all enemies in our path!"

"What of any Lannisters we meet milord?" Asked Howland.

Ned grabbed the reins of his horse as he prepared to march as he answered.

"Any Lannisters in our way… run them through"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He rushed through the hallways impaling another guard that stood in his way. The body hit the floor and Ned did not even acknowledge it, already moving far beyond it with the Greatjon and Reed at his side.

The ride to the Red Keep had not been an easy one. The fire and the bodies became many obstacles as they rode. The poor visibility and the smoke gave occasion for many an injury as riders fell of their horses, breaking bones, and in occasion heads.

The Lannisters were there as well, on many cases trying to stop them, demanding that they identify themselves. Not that it help them any as the Northern cavalry ran through them, and on the few occasions that they tried to form up they were at best a speedbump. Too spread up to put their entire strength against the Northmen, they had no choice but to let them move.

The Red Keep, when they reached it, had just been breached after holding off the attackers from storming their gates for a little time. When Ned led his own forces into it he found it being in control of Lannister soldiers… which he and his men killed as they entered.

This was where they split up; Wull, Cassel, and Dustin would each take a number of his men and eliminate all defenders while securing the key entrances of the Keep, making sure that no one entered or left.

Ser Ryswell had gone with him and the others, but the further ahead they went, the more Lannister soldiers and bannermen they found. In the end Ser Ryswell was told to hold them back and eliminate them, taking with him the 20 men they had.

Breaking inside another hallway Ned found himself and his two companions in front of another group of concentrated Lannister forces. There are more men than we expected, Ned thought asGreatjon Umber and Howland Reed followed his lead and cut down anyone that tried to attack Ned from behind.

He knew he should have tried to maintain calm, that to allow his anger to control him would only give his enemies the opportunity to kill him… but his fury couldn't be contained. After everything that had happened over the last day, after the death of his father and brother, the deaths of countless soldiers and banner men that he had lead, Ned couldn't stop now.

He cut the man in front of him easily enough which allowed three more to attack him from the back, all of whom met their end as the Greatjon cut them down as if they had never been there. Reed on the other side was on the defensive, this close quarters giving him very little room for him to employ his spear to its fullest ability, still he made do as all who faced him learnt.

It appeared that they had bitten more thatn they could chew this time, not that the Greatjon cared; he was laughing as he cut down first one, then two, and three more of Lannister bannerman. Ned however could only feel anger at his enemies. For every second wasted here meant another that could give another the opportunity to kill Aerys.

He knew that Tywin had sent men to kill the Mad King but Ned was not going to let that happen. He was going to have the honor of doing that himself. Robert had killed Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident and avenged Lyanna. Ned was going to avenge his father and brother.

Another soldier rushed at him but Ned easily swatted his attacks aside and knocked the man down with a single kick. Lifting his sword up, he plunged Ice down through the guard's chest plate and heart. The man gasped before blood coughed out of his mouth.

Yet that maneuver had cost him time, which an enemy swordsman had taken advantage to nearly separate his head from his neck. Only a quick movement by Reed had managed to stave off his execution, at least for a little while.

It was at that moment though when a commotion began behind the enemiy lines as more and more of their number began falling and dying; thus it was that Ned, the Greatjon and reed pressed their assault as more and more of the Lannister soldiers started falling against the unexpected onslaught

Some tried to surrender to the unexpected foe, yet the leader only cut them down.

Ser Mark Ryswell never spared in battle.

As the last soldier was killed Ser Ryswell cleaned his blade as he looked at Ned and the rest, of the 20 men he'd gone with, only 12 remained.

"I found the Great Hall milord."

Said with a straight face, the Greatjon burst out laughing and even Reed could not hold back a small smile.

"Cutting it a little close, didn't you Ryswell?" Said the Greatjon still laughing.

"You looked to be having fun." He replied, this time with a smile on his face.

"Let's go." Ned interrupted as he once more started moving, this time in the direction Ryswell had arrived. Howland, the Greatjon, and Ser Ryswell following close behind.

"I've received news from the rest" Ser Ryswell explained as they moved. "They have secured all the entrances and taken down both; the Lannister bannermen and the Targaryen guards. There are still some holdouts, but nothing to serious. Last they reported Ser Martyn was moving towards the White Sword tower, and Wull was right behind us to check the rest of the Holdfast. Lord Dustin is the one in charge of keeping the Lannisters out of the Red Keep."

"Good." Ned replied "we have the advantage, now we move for the kill."

They were met with two corpses of guards lying on the floor as they moved around a corner to the throne room doors, victims to Ser Ryswell attack no doubt. But what made him anxious was what they found further ahead; a Lannister bannerman, dead by a sword wound.

The Lannisters had already attacked here.

How? Ned Thought. They were supposed to still be trying to secure the castle's lower floors.

Ned did not waste any time, he immediately rushed to the entrance and kicked the doors open… and to his horror, he realized he was too late.

Lying sprawled face first on the floor was the silver haired King Aerys Targaryen.

Aerys was dead, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Two Lannister lords were around him, Lord Crakehall and Westerling he'd find out later, who were startled when the door was slammed open.

But at that moment he only had eyes for the corpse… and the man with the bloody sword.

He wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over his golden armor. Even his sword was gilded. Tall and golden haired, with flashing green eyes and look of surprise on his was no mistaking that face; the face of Ser Jaime Lannister, the youngest member of the Kingsguard.

And now a traitor to it.

"Lord Eddard Stark." Jaime commented. Quickly recovering from the surprise, his face showed a sardonic smile upon the recipient "I must say I'm surprised that you're the first person to come running through that door."

Ned remained silent as he moved towards the corpse, his companions and the rest of his men at his side. Lords Crakehall and Westerling both retreated as they advanced, but Jaime remained right where he was; next to the dead body with a smile on his face.

He checked the king's pulse and nearly screamed in anger when he felt none. Aerys Targaryen had been his to kill. It was his duty to avenge his family, his right to kill the Mad King. And now that that had been taken from him.

"I think he just twitched. Best to take his head off just in case." Jaime mocked.

Ned glanced upwards at him, barely able to contain his anger as he once more rose to a standing position. The Greatjon had no compulsion as he released his own.

"Shut your mouth Lannister! Lest you find your tongue taken from you!"

"Is that a challenge, Ser Giant? Not very fair is it? Tell you what, your little friend with his stick over there can fight at your side. You might actually prove a threat then!"

Before Howland or the Greatjon could reply, they were both beaten to the punch by Ned's anger being released upon an unsuspecting Jaime Lannister.

"I wanted him dead by my hands," Ned said. He didn't shout, he didn't rage. He spoke with an ice cold anger which lent his word more potency. "Aerys was mine to kill."

All that effort to get here faster.

All those plans to beat the Lannisters to the Keep.

All the fighting to arrive at the Great Halls before them.

All for nothing.

As Ned looked at Jaime with pure loathing and contempt, both groups, the Northern and the Lannister, felt the tension in the room increasing. Like a fight could start at any minute.

"M-My Lord please," Lord Elys Westerling immediately interjected, afraid of what could break down "It is true that you have a most valid reason for wanting Aerys dead, but the deed is done now. Surely there is no need for fighting over a corpse?"

"That's right," Lord Roland Crakehall agreed with his fellow lord "The threat is now over, we can have peace now with the Royal family dead."

…

What?

"Did you-?"

As Ned moved his head towards Lord Crakehall, a question already passing his lips, he was beaten by another one with a voice more shocked than he had heard before.

"What do you mean?!"

Ned was surprised to hear the question; not so much for what it was, but from whom it had come from.

Ser Jaime Lannister, who just a second ago had been so confident and arrogant, now seemed a man on the verge of panic. Only the fact that the Northmen were in the same room seemed to be the only reason that prevented him from once more unsheathing his sword.

"What did you mean by that Lord Crakehall?! Answer Me!"

Lord Crakehall, who had shrunken on himself the moment Ser Jaime had shouted his first question, seemed to rally a little, and straighten himself before replying.

"W-Well M-My Lord, it's just a matter of course. Orders from Lord Tywin himself to get rid of the Royal Family so there would be no issue in Lord Robert's taking of the throne."

As the last words left his lips an interesting change came over the room. Ser Ryswell, Reed, the Greatjon all had faces of having heard the vilest act that a man could commit, but it was Ned's reaction which brought the Lannnister group short.

For Eddard Stark's face had gone completely still, and his eyes were as cold as an ice tundra.

He should be more surprised. He really should, but at this moment Ned felt complete rage. For understanding the kind of man that Tywin was he knew that he would do exactly as Lord Crakehall had said.

Rage was then joined by fear. While Aerys Targaryen deserved to die a thousand times over for what he did to his family, the rest of the Royal Family was innocent.

Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, even the recently born Aegon, should not be punished for the sins of their father, or their grandfather.

And looking at Ser Jaime's horrified face, he was of the same thought.

"Where is the rest of the Royal family?" demanded Ned.

"Near the top of the Keep. They have no way to escape …" Jaime said in a nearly shocked voice that Ned would never had thought would come from his lips.

Before anyone could move Ser Jaime took a hold of himself and rushed to the door, pausing slightly only to kick it open as he shouted at Ned.

"This way!"

Ned wasted no time as he started following, with a quick order of "Keep them here!" at Ser Ryswell he ran as quickly as he could, following Ser Jaime to the stairs and making his way upwards.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ser Jaime had a lead but not a big one, soon Ned was right at his heels with the Greatjon and Reed following as well. They ran ever upwards, yet to Ned it seemed as if every step took a millennium to make.

Please don't let me be too late again.

He'd failed in reaching King's Landing on time.

He'd failed in killing Aerys.

He would not fail Princess Elia and her children.

He would not let them be butchered.

Robert will understand, he would not condone this.

It was as they neared one of the many levels of the tower that they saw a small group of Lannister soldiers blocking the way, with many more waiting across level yard.

Their shocked looks in their face showed that they didn't expect anyone to try to enter this place, especially Ser Jaime in the company of Northmen.

They must be part of those stragglers that were left, passed absently through his mind. As Ned made ready to strike Jaime hesitated, but they were shoved aside as the Greatjon moved past them roaring in a loud voice towards his enemies.

"Out of my way!" He yelled as he swung his greatsword through the guards, killing two of the swordmen at once, giving the opportunity to both Ned and Jaime to pass quickly through them and continue on.

As the Lannister bannermen saw their members being killed they quickly moved from the yard to pursue, yet they quickly found themselves blocked by both the Greatjon and Reed who faced them down before they could go very far.

"Go My lord!" said Reed as he and the Greatjon blocked the stairs from the rest of the soldiers as they attempted to pursue.

Ned could only nod quickly as he once more took to the stairs, Ser Jaime at his side.

It was as they reached the top that the thought crossed his mind.

Can I trust him? He thought, can I trust a man who can break solemn vows?

And yet, the look of anguish as he had heard about the death of the Royal family, his immediate actions in leading him here. They seemed genuine, but who could tell if it was another act.

But there was little choice at the moment, they were nearing the top and already he could hear noises.

They were at the door when they heard the screaming; a high voice which could only belong to a grown woman weeping and screaming hysterically, and a roar that could only belong to a beast which attempted to drown her voice.

Ned rushed to the entrance as he and Ser Jaime pushed the door open, just in time to see a scene from the realm of nightmares being committed.

Inside there was the huge massive frame of a man, nearly the same size as him when on his knees, straddling a beaten and crying woman.

Princess Elia, he thought clinically, as she cowered and tried to protect herself from the terrible onslaught that the man had been inflicting.

As Ned advanced towards the turning figure of this man, more details were visible. His shoulders were massive which were needed in order to fully swing those arms which were as thick as the trunk of small trees.

His armor was made of the thickest plate he had seen before, No man should be able to move in it, yet as the man turned he could see the three black dogs in a field of yellow that was his sigil.

His eyes, filled with a blood rage like a wild animal, saw that he was not alone.

He moved to react, yet his massive sword was not near him, having put it aside when no soldiers were in sight. Ned was able to close the gap between them just as he moved Ice in a cutting strike to end his foe's life before he could stand.

Nevertheless what should have have been a finshing strike failed, as the giant moved his arm with a wild swing to protect himself.

Ned's strike hit a vulnerable weak point in his armor, which allowed the Valyrian steel sword to cut not only the protection, but his arm from the elbow down as well.

The massive man screamed in mad rage and pain as he attempted to stand, but that only gave Ned the necessary time to put his sword in a stabbing position, and as the giant turned his head to once more look at him, he saw only the tip of Ice right before it entered through his neck.

The moment between the strike and his death stretched for a long time, until the dead body slumped and fell to the ground with a mighty clang.

As Ned took deep breaths after the entire confrontation while removing his sword from the dead body, he could not help but reflect on his luck somewhat. The man seemed to be one of great strength and skill, and while he himself possessed skill with his sword, in the end the run from the Great Hall and the fights against many other opponents before facing the gigantic man had taken its toll on him.

I was lucky, He thought, that he never expected an enemy at this place.

He approached the princess, and his eyes could finally take notice of her state.

She had bruising all over her face, from the way she held herself she might have them in other places as well. Her dress was ripped in various places, and her eyes were red from the crying.

As she tried to put herself in an upright position once more Ned could see the despair and desperation battling with shock in them.

"My lady, please don't exert yourself." He said as he kneeled by her and tried to aid her.

"R-Rhaenys…" She whispered, breaking from her shock, at least for a while.

"What? Milady…"

She grabbed his arm and looked at him with desperation and histeria in her face. She kept asking for her daughter in a tone, growing more and more hysterical as she continued.

"RHAENYS! S-She is… Where is she!? She is not-! Not Safe, Please! Please you have to find her!"

Princess Rhaenys, He thought. She had to be around hiding somewhere, and Princess Elia kept on begging him to find her. As Ned was answering her, there suddenly came a sound from further on, near one of the rooms.

"What was that?"

At Ser Jaime's query Princess Elia seemed to stop and look in the direction of the noise. She tried to get up only to fail giving a cry of pain as Ned helped her once more.

"Princess please, you can't move in you condition" Ned gently admonished.

"B-But-!"

Seeing that Princess Elia would try to get to her daughter at any cost Ned had no other choice.

"I'll get your daughter. I promise."

At that she started to calm down once more, looking at him with intensity as if searching for any falsehood in his face. Satisfied, she stopped trying to get up as her breathing calmed.

She was in no condition to move, yet he could not leave her alone either. And although he was not yet sure of his loyalties, every second wasted meant another possibility where Princess Rhaenys could die.

"Please stay here, Ser Jaime will look after you."

As the words left his lips Ned stood up once more as he looked severely at Ser Jaime.

I'll trust you here, don't make me regret it.

It was not a lightly made decision, yet Ser Jaime's actions so far had showed that if he didn't care for his vows, he had to care for the Royal family.

Aside from a quick nod and moving to Princess Elia's side, Ser Jaime made no other gesture of having understood the message.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once more, with Ice in his hand, Ned moved through the hallway. Passing many doors as no sound came from them.

The sound earlier was closer to an armored foot scrapping the floor, which means there might be another man here.

If so, then he had to find Princess Rhaenys before him. The huge man had been a challenge by himself, and while he would still fight to protect them he would prefer to find the princess first. Once that was done then he would have to find a safe place for the entire Royal Family until Robert finally arrived.

And once that's done Tywin will have a lot to answer for.

Sacking the capital, killing innocents, attempting to murder infants…

Wait.

Where is Prince Ae-?

His thoughts were interrupted as he once more heard the odd sound, now joined with another ones.

An armored foot scratching the floor, a child's cry being muffled, a near silent "Quiet." …and the sound of fear that came from that voice as well.

Former thoughts now forgotten, Ned held Ice at the ready as he once more kicked a door open.

This is becoming a habit lately. His mind supplied to his exasperation, which vanished completely as he saw the picture in front of him.

A portly man of average height stood there, his face could be better described as having pig like characteristics with small pig-like eyes that at the moment shined with fear. Yet it was not those eyes, nor the armor which had grabbed his attention. It had been the sword.

The sword which at the moment he held at Princess Rhaenys neck.

"Now, w-we are go-o-ing to d-do t-this My w-way... D-Drop your Sword!" The fat knight tried to scream.

It would have been more effective had his voice not broken at least twice.

Uncertainty and tremors could be heard in his voice, making him sound rather like a woman in fright. Had they met in any other situation Ned would have never taken this man seriously.

"Let her go-"

"DON'T!" He shouted, holding the Princess tighter around her throat. She gave a small whimper at the treatment.

"D-Don't th-think that y-y-you can talk t-to me like that! I h-have her! I have the c-control here! Y-You do as I-I say and D-DROP YOUR S-SWORD!"

This is bad, Ned thought, he is losing it.

While Ned maintained a cold look over his features, his mind was racing with possibilities.

How to stop this man before he killed the princess?

I can't just let him walk, he will never release her. But still, perhaps…

Ned focused on the scene in front of him, so much that he missed the sounds of someone coming from behind. He felt the sharp edge of a sword in his neck and saw the look of fear in the knight's face being replaced by relief.

"Now Lord Stark" Said the mocking voice of Ser Jaime, "how about you listen to what Ser Lorch said and drop your weapon."

I shouldn't have trusted him.

A thought that intruded just as anger appeared in his features, the relief in the knight's face (Ser Lorch apparently) was every bit as disgusting as the smug look that started to appear. Here was a man that was in the end nothing more than a coward.

And yet, he had to yield for now. If he died then there was no one to save Rhaenys, if he could only stall for time…

"Don't make me repeat myself 'Milord'. Drop it. Now"

He dropped his sword.

Ser Jaime kept the edge of his blade at his neck while he moved around Ned facing him and putting himself between Ser Lorch, all the while the smile never left his face.

Ser Lorch panted as the fear left him, his voice recovering strength as he seemed to sag in himself as he haltingly and tiredly spoke. "S-ser Jaime, thank the Seven! I was beginni-"

Just as he was relaxing he moved his blade a short distance from Rhaenys' neck.

It was all that was needed.

Quick as lightning the sword was kicked from his hands, and just as his face began to once more contort, this time in astonishment, a blade pierced through a small chink in his chainmail, moving right through his heart.

It was an impossible maneouver, both in execution and timing a simple swordsman could not have made that quick a kill.

But then again, Ser Jaime's inductment to the Kingsguard had not been completely for show.

As Lorch's body fell to the ground Ser Jaime slid his sword out of his body and held himself at ease, pointing it at the floor.

Ned had prepared himself, for the moment Ser Jaime had moved he had dove for his sword, and now he held it at the ready against him.

Which was a little awkward, since once Lorch had died princess Rhaenys had ran towards him, using him as a shield against Ser Jaime as she buried her face on his body, still scared of what might happen.

"What? No 'thanks for saving the princess'? I'm wounded, truly"

"What was that?" Ned growled. He was in no mood for joking at the moment

Ser Jaime might have picked on that, or perhaps he simply thought he was asking about the situation. Nevertheless, he continued with that sardonic tone.

"This," he said pointing with his sword at the dead body, "is Ser Amory Lorch, one of my father's bannerman, and perhaps one of the nastiest pieces of work of the Westerlands, topped mainly by the Knight you killed in the other room, Ser Gregor Clegane."

"Never heard of them" Ned replied sceptically, still with his eyes on him.

Jaime just smirked. "Rumours about their infamy are mostly contained in my father's domain, not too much of a chance to spread any further than that yet. Although from what you hear from Ser Clegane…" He stopped there, as he quickly banished a thought and continued.

"Anyways, Ser Lorch is known to me mainly from what I heard from my sister, if there is anything remarkable of him is that he has the ability to toady to those stronger than him, and be completely ruthless to those that can't fight back. In short: a coward. He was panicking when I came. One wrong move and the Princess might have died, so I acted."

All through the explanation Ned had been trying to find any falsehood in his words, yet all evidence pointed to what he'd said.

"You're welcome" He finished with a slight bow.

"What about Princess Elia" Was Ned's reply.

"Your Giant and his little friend arrived shortly after you left, they should be looking after her."

"And they allowed you to just come for me?" He asked with disbelief.

"In their defense, you left me alone with the Princess. That seemed to reassure them that you trusted me enough."

A small whimper could be heard from Princess Rhaenys hiding her face on Ned's leg.

Looking down for a second to check on her found her neck somewhat bruised but thankfully it was not a life threatening injury.

Still, for that man to harm a child… He was no Knight.

Looking at Ser Jaime showed him looking in Rhaenys direction with a worried look in his face before he quickly vanished it once more.

In the end… He cared for them, even if he didn't care for his vows.

Ned slowly relaxed his guard and bent down to speak with Princess Rhaenys.

"It's alright," He said in a kind voice, "The bad men are gone… They can't hurt you anymore."

The princess looked at him through tear stained eyes as his words seemed to take hold.

"T-the… H-he killed, H-he said he k-killed Balerion, and that Mama and Aegon w-were dead!" She said in a half crying voice

Ned soothed her and held her gently as he reassured her.

"I assure you milady your mother is fine, I'll take you to her. As for your brother… I'll find him, I promise."

His gentle reassurances seemed to be calming her as she looked at him in his eyes… and gave a hesitant nod.

"Alright," Ned replied as he stood and extended his hand, "Now, let's take you back to your mother."

All through this exchange Ned had been looking at Ser Jaime just in case. He needn't have bothered, for Ser Jaime seeing the Princess safe seemed to be unwinding from all the tension that had filled him earlier and was quite willing to let Lord Stark take the lead.

Princess Rhaenys took his hand and Ned lead her out of the room, Ser Jaime at her other side.

It was as they moved that the entire night's events finally hit Ned full force. He never stopped walking, but his mind and body seemed to final unwind from everything that had just happened.

The Lannisters had had joined their side by Sacking King's Landing. Thousands of innocents were dead because of their treachery and dishonor.

Aerys was dead, killed by one of his Kingsguard members, the very one who was walking with him. Aerys had been him to kill, and for that Ned still felt some ember remains of anger in him.

And yet…

Ser Jaime, who had killed the king and joked about it before had also panicked and done everything possible to save Princess Elia and Rhaenys when he heard of what was planned for them, even going against his own father's bannermen for it.

Could a right act compensate for a dishonorable one?

He was not sure, he would still have to talk to Robert about what happened here. Tywin will probably be there as well, once more trying to ingratiate himself to the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

I'm…

And finally, there was Lyanna to consider. She had not been with Rhaegar in the field, and so far there was no sign of her in King's Landing. So where had the madman hidden her?

I'm very tired…

Ever since the journey began, his emotions had been moving with great speed through his body; anger, fear, surprise, shock, sadness… They all alternated between themselves so frequently that it was all he could do to maintain a stoic façade.

I want to go home…

Once this was over, when Lyanna was safe, he would go to the North taking Catelyn with him, and the Gods willing never more set foot outside of it again.

All his dark musings lasted enough for the group to reach Princess Elia, who was now being guard by Howland Reed at her side, while giving the Greatjon fearful looks.

Should have expected it…

And then the princess caught sight of them, her eyes homed in on Rhaenys, who let go of Lord Stark's hand and ran towards her.

Both mother and daughter reunited once more in a crying embrace as they released their fears and just felt glad to once more be together.

And As Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell looked upon this scene, the last embers of his anger disappeared, for this moment at least his worries were non-existent as he saw the happy reunion of Mother and Daughter.

Perhaps…it will all be alright in the end.

A man could hope.