Well, the start of another AU of mine. I don't think I will ever end it, but who knows. I will add more characters over time, when they make their debut, and I have so far no idea where this will go. But well, I'm having fun with it and I hope you too will do so. The chapters will not necessarily be in chronological order, I will write them how my muse will struck me, so bear with me please.

1. The Direwolf - Ned Stark

King's Landing. A city of uncounted millions. A city of horror and sin and madness. Gangs in the slums, crime in court, corruption in city council. Drug money, dirty, bloody money, going from hand to hand until it lands in the bank accounts of the monsters. Daily young, bright people die and old, broken people wither away. Rape, murder, theft, robbery, violence and madness.

Cold, uncaring towers of steel and beton rising up in the air as if they could rise out of the horror they are coming from. In the bars and taverns men and women alike are drinking away their sorrows, while in the high end establishments coke is sniffed out of the navel of an underaged prostitue before vomiting out champagner worth a new suit into a toilet decorated with silver and gold. In the alleys orphans and junkies freeze to death, pimps beating their women nearly to death, uncaring police officers walking past.

It was sickening.

From his city loft he could see most of the inner city. It would have been a very good refugee for any one else, safe and high up in the air, clean and homely. He had to think Cat for the comfort he had in this four walls, all the decor was there because she had insisted on it. She had said that otherwise it wouldn't be a home.

And it wasn't one.

Not for him.

It was his office away from the office. The other office.

Other men in his position, other multi billion dollar heavy men owning other corporations, would use such a loft as an escape place. Or a place to bring the secretary to fuck while the wife is at home with the kids waiting while the husband works overtime. Not him.

Not Eddard Stark.

Not boring, brooding, weak Ned Stark.

Not only did he love his wife, Cat, way too much for such a thing, this loft had another use. It was his place to hide away secrets, yes. But not such secrets as other men.

"Yes, I know...", he softly said into the telephone, his voice heavy with caring and tenderness. As if he was speaking to a petite animal, trying to shooth it. "Cat... say the kids I love them... I'll be home at the weekend." A short pause, then he added. "I love you too."

There was a moment of silence, before he closed the phone and put it down onto the nightstand. He took another few minutes for himself to set his mind at ease, to push away the thoughts of his family, of his children who he saw way to seldom and of the warm bed with Cat in it. Then, finally, he stood up from the bed he had sat on, a cold bed, and made his way to the secret compartment he had build into one of the walls.

It slid open without a single sound and revealed his arsenal.

Gauntlets with claws. Mask with sensory adjustments for eyes and ears. Body armor. Utility belt.

With routined movements he put on the undershirt and pants, made of a fine kevlar weave. His mind wandered while he dressed with movements which spoke of years of experience and routine. His mind wandered to the death of his oldest friend, Robert, whose death had plunged the city into chaos once more. The major dead and hundreds of different men claiming to be the killer. The Lannisters grabbing for power in city hall. The Greyjoys grabbing for power in the shadows. The Baratheon brothers going at each other. And people getting killed between all this.

He felt sick to the stomach.

Sometimes he felt like he was fighting a tidal wave with his fists only. Perhaps he was.


Ilyn Payne was a killer. Not a murderer, but a professional killer. A very good one at that. Neither pride nor arrogance nor greed were failings of him. His preferred way of killing was the knife, but he had no qualms using any other way too. When his new boss demanded the death of the Direwolf, he delivered.

He delivered by blowing up an entire city block, burying the so called protector of the people under the rubble.


Catelyn Stark woke up when her phone rang. Immediately she was wide awake. A feeling of dread overcame her, like always when the phone rang. Still she grabbed it and sat up while doing so. "Yes?"

She listened to the voice on the other side of the line. Finally she said: "Yes... Yes I understand. Thank you."

With her face ashen she put down the phone, remaining sitting upright for several moments. Then she broke down and screamed.