A/N: Hi again! Welcome to my new story which is based on one of my favourite movies, Romancing the Stone. Because Sansan and RtS are a match made in heaven :). Hope you enjoy it
Prologue
He ducked into the only open door he could see in this stinking alleyway, strewn with rubbish, uneaten food and what looked and smelled suspiciously like urine and faeces.
Maybe there was another exit out of this alley through the building that would give him some valuable time. Enough time to get back to his vehicle and drive like a maniac to the nearest airport.
Eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light, he grimaced when he took in its occupants.
He'd entered a run-down, filthy bar catering to the lowest and poorest members of the population, not unlike the dives found in Fleabottom.
The patrons were what you would expect – underworld types, drug dealers, thieves, murderers, most likely, and the poor, unfortunate women who catered to their whims and desires. In this gods-forsaken town, it was to be expected.
Despite his dirty, dishevelled appearance, he knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. Still, they didn't look the types to ask too many questions.
He just needed an out before his pursuers found him.
Striding briskly to the bar, avoiding all eye contact with patrons that eyed him suspiciously as the outsider he was, he summoned the barkeep's attention.
"What'll it be?" asked the barkeep, his large gut showing the stains of many spilled beers and spirits on his dingy shirt. "Cash only. We don't hold with no fancy cards here."
"I'm not after a drink. Is there another way out of here? Other than the alleyway?"
The barkeep looked at him warily before smirking. With all the criminals that frequented this town, it stood to reason that no building was without some sort of alternative exit.
This stranger screamed money, despite his appearance, and the barkeep wondered what he was doing in this town and if was worth shaking him down. It would only take a nod to certain people in the room and this fancy wanker would be minus his money, and probably his life. A wad of bank notes was discreetly offered before he could decide.
"It's yours if you tell me how to get out?"
Ah, fuck it! "Go through the door behind the bar. You'll see a barrel on the floor. Move it and there's a trapdoor underneath. It'll take you out through the sewers 'till you come out near the old temple." He reached out his hand as he spoke.
"Thank you."
Without another word, Ned Stark handed over the cash and raced to the back room. As instructed, there was a barrel in a dark, dingy corner which he hastily moved to reveal the trapdoor. It opened surprisingly easily and he had to wonder how often it was used.
There was a metal ladder which led down into a dark tunnel and smelled absolutely gross. With no other choice, Ned climbed down, splashing down at the bottom. He didn't even want to think about what he was stepping in.
His pursuers, Tywin Lannister's henchmen, would be upon him soon if he didn't get a move on.
And if they caught him, he didn't want to think what might happen.
His life's work, quest really, was in danger if Tywin caught him. After spending most of his adult life looking for the ancient relic belonging to the Stark family that was stolen all those centuries ago, he had come so close to finding it here, in this remote, backwater of Essos.
That the relic was an invaluable, one-of-a-kind artefact that museums throughout Westeros and Essos would salivate to have wasn't a factor for Ned Stark.
He had grown up on tales of the villainy committed against his family during the War of the Five Kings. How a trusted ally had turned traitor and stolen it when Ned's own ancestor had ridden to war, leaving his family and home and subsequently losing his life. How it had subsequently been lost for generations, with no known trace of it.
And how Ned Stark had studied archaeology specifically with the aim of finding his family heirloom and restoring it to its rightful home.
The heirloom, an ancient Valyrian steel dagger embedded with a blood-red ruby shaped as a dragon's egg in its hilt, given to his ancestor Torrhen Stark by Aegon after the ancient Wars of Conquest as a reward for bending the knee and not going to war against the Targaryen conqueror, would be considered priceless. There were less than five examples of Valyrian steel left in the known world. It was impervious to fire and no other metal or material could damage it. It maintained its razor sharpness regardless of its treatment and a sword could behead a person with one blow.
The Stark's dagger, called Wolfsblood, after the Stark sigil and in reference to the ruby, was also said to contain magical properties as it was crafted by the ancient smiths of Valyria who were said to be able to imbue their blades with the ability to both take life and to heal, according to the holder's wishes.
Ned was somewhat sceptical about the healing bit, but even without it, the fact of its rarity, beauty and historical significance made it an object to be lusted after by collectors of rare and precious antiquities.
Collector's like Tywin Lannister, who ran Lannister Corp and was insanely wealthy.
Somehow, Tywin had become made aware of Ned's interest and active search for Wolfsblood and had contacted him.
Historically, the Lannisters and Starks had been enemies for centuries. They had gone to war against each other, tried to bring the other family down and more recently, maintained a mutual antipathy. As prominent families of Westeros, they were occasionally thrown together at official functions, where a polite distance was maintained. Friends they weren't.
Hence, when Tywin had met with Ned and put forth an offer to fund his search and proposed that he pay an inordinate sum of money for the dagger if and/or when Ned found it, Ned had laughed in his face. If he found the dagger, it was not now, nor ever, to be up for sale. He would even put a caveat in his will that all future generations of Starks were prohibited from ever selling it.
Needless to say, Tywin had not taken the rejection well and had turned to more underhanded measures to get the dagger.
Including sending people to spy on Ned, in hopes of getting information to allow his own people to reach the dagger first.
Ned had spent the last three years playing a cat and mouse game with Tywin's stooges, always just one step ahead.
Until now.
At first, the threats had been ignored but they were now much more serious. He had been threatened with his life if he didn't lead them to the dagger.
Ned Stark just couldn't do it.
He had sacrificed so much for his quest. His family, his holdings, a normal life.
He wondered how his long-suffering wife put up with his frequent absences, always under the guise of going to archaeological digs. Ned had not disclosed the nature of his search, at least, not his obsession with the dagger, in order to protect her and their family.
The family that had grown up without him for large chunks of their life. He had missed birthdays, weddings and feast days as he chased yet another lead, always justifying it in his mind that he was doing this for the family's legacy.
His brother, Benjen, had been running the majority of the Winterfell holdings and family business in his stead for years, for which Ned was forever grateful. Benjen had a head for business and the Stark family's net worth was double what it was when Ned had inherited it from his father as a twenty-two year old.
And now, after finding the final piece of the puzzle, he was so close to obtaining the dagger when he noticed the tail placed on him by Lannister.
There was no way he could travel the final distance with the Lannister goons on his tail. And he needed to destroy his writings. If they got hold of his diary they would soon work out where to go, taking the dagger and probably killing him in the process.
It nearly killed him to burn everything in the bathtub of the seedy room he'd taken. The only consolation was that it was all in his head anyway. All these years of searching, it was practically engraved on his brain. And he'd never talk, even on pain of death.
If they got him, death was a very like outcome, so he needed to get this information to one of his family, so they could recover their heirloom in his stead if necessary.
After thinking over his options, he decided to send the information to his oldest daughter, Sansa. For a number of reasons.
Ned wrote her a long letter, explaining what he'd been doing, along with instructions on the whereabouts of the dagger and how to get there. In case it was intercepted, his instructions were cryptic and he included a hand-drawn picture of the exact location, making sure not to include any identifying landmarks. He trusted that she and the family would puzzle it out.
He also insisted that the family did not come after him, under any circumstances, no matter what. He could not risk their being used as tools to blackmail him to reveal the location of the dagger.
Shaking off his tail long enough to post the letter, he was soon found again, hence why he was now in this stinking sewer, running for his life, probably.
His breathing loud and heavy in the dankness, he gulped as he felt rats scurry across his feet. Needing to follow the walls with his fingers in the darkness, Ned grimaced in disgust as he touched endless amounts of slime and decided if he got out of this, he would stand in a shower until it ran cold.
Ned thought longingly of his wife, Catelyn, and mentally apologised for all he'd put her through. He had to see her again. He'd get out of this somehow.
At last, the sewer opening came into sight around a bend, with enough dim light to allow him to let go of the wall. He hastily wiped it on his trousers as he ran for the exit.
Looking out for his pursuers, Ned cautiously exited the sewer into another alley. This ancient town was full of them.
He needed to work out where he was and then get to his car and drive to the airport. He'd charter a plane to get him out of Essos. Ned may not have his dagger but at least he would know it was still hidden from the Lannisters.
Turning a corner, he felt the cold, metal barrel of a gun dig right into his spine.
Fuck!, he swore internally.
"I don't want to kill you right here, Stark, but I will if you don't come quietly," growled a coarse voice in his ear.
"And risk the wrath of Tywin?" taunted Ned.
"Hmm, good point. I'll just have to shoot you in the leg, then."
Bang!
A/N: I post updates on my Tumblr: queenoferebor1204 . It's full of things I like but it is slightly biased towards Richard Armitage. Just saying!