Eddard Stark stared blankly into the darkness of the black cells, turning a rough stone in his fingers absentmindedly. A heavy sigh passed his lips, and he dropped his head against the stone wall behind him, closing his eyes. He wondered how Sansa was doing, how his red-haired daughter was fairing in the snake pit that was King's Landing. He wondered how Arya was doing, his wild wolf pup with her Needle. He hoped that they were okay, he prayed to the Old Gods that his daughters would be alright, and though he knew it wouldn't happen, he hoped that they found their way back to Winterfell soon.
The slight scuff of a foot against stone was what alerted him to the unexpected guest. The Spider had already been down to see him in his dank cell, pleading with him to serve the Realm, to confess to his crimes and take the Black. He would have loved to see Jon again, but Eddard Stark was nothing if not honorable. Ceresi's children were abominations, bastards born of incest and none of them were fit for the throne. Stannis was Robert's heir, plain and simple.
"Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell," Came a voice in the darkness. Ned only rolled his head towards it. He was going to die anyway; he knew that Joffrey was not kind. "Warden of the North, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm. That is what the citizen call you. But they call you traitor also. Why is that, Lord of Winterfell?"
The man who spoke had a strange accent, one Eddard had never heard before, but he answered anyway.
"I claimed that Ceresi's children were not of King Robert's line. That they were children born of incest, between the Queen and the Kingslayer."
"And yet this is true." The man said, striking flint against a stone. The spark that lit caught the small candle he carried, illuminating the immediate area with a small hiss. The man was not alone. Four others stood with the speaker, all with their arms folded behind their backs and their feet apart, dressed in the same strange black clothing. "And my lady would not see you die for it."
"Your lady?" Ned asked, frowning heavily at the sudden light.
"My lady has sent us to rescue you." One of the other men spoke, with the same strange accent, but a deeper voice. "And you will come."
"My daughters-"
"Will be fine. We leave another in your place." The original man held up a hand to silence his companion. "To Westeros, honorable Lord Eddard Stark will be dead by noon tomorrow. This will be a lie. We will free you, but you must trust us and do exactly as we say."