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Golden sunlight streamed through the open windows of my solar as the sun finally climbed above the horizon.

Edric had slipped out an hour before dawn to go to his lesson with Syrio Forel and Arya. I'd told him to ask for dawn lessons while I was on the hunt, so that Syrio could teach them how to defend against enemies using the blinding dawn sunlight as an ally. Or at least that was the reason I had given him. The true reason was to remove Arya from the Tower of the Hand well before Robert was due to die at mid-day.

My plan to be gone before the rest of the Red Keep finished breaking their fasts was cutting it close enough as it was. The original Renly had fled before the sun came up, which had proven to be a wise decision. If I delayed much longer I risked being caught out by butterflies. And talking my way out of the Red Keep would be difficult enough as it was without any additional challenges.

Loras and Jon looked over at me. We were all in full armour and they had been waiting to leave on their assignments in a tense silence for hours, ever since I had first explained the plan. Any attempt at small talk had petered out as the knowledge of how vulnerable we all were pressed own on all of us. I constantly ran through the plan in my head and attempted not to wear a hole in the floor as I paced. Worried about all the different parts that might go wrong.

Dawn had finally come and it was time to put the plan into action. Loras would go to the barracks and collect the two score of guards whose loyalty we could be certain of. Then he would secure the stables and ensure everyone was mounted, with additional horses saddled and waiting for me and the others.

Jon was to head to Arya and Edric's dancing lesson and convince her to leave with him and Edric. He had bristled at what he saw as an unworthy task, but had quicky accepted it, after I had smacked him down before explaining why it had to be him. It should indeed be incredibly simple to collect Arya and escort her to the stables, but it was vital that Jon do it. If anyone else tried, Syrio was sure to intervene, and given how much Arya was attached to him, she would never leave with me or anyone else if he counselled her to run instead. As Jon was her favourite brother, he shouldn't arouse Syrio's suspicions. If he did, he was the only one apart from Ned Arya might believe over Syrio.

I had to deceive both of them on my part in the plan. As far as they were aware I would be collecting Sansa from the Tower of the Hand where Ned would have sent her out under guard. To be transferred into my protection and taken out of the city.

It would not sit well with either of them that I actually planned to hide in one of the alcoves along the direct route between the Tower of the Hand and Maegor's Holdfast, so I could intercept Sansa when she snuck out before breakfast on her dash to appeal to Cersei to help her stay in Kings Landing. Once I'd grabbed her, it would be simple to force feed her one of the vials of dwale I had already obtained from a maester. Given that the components of that ancient sedative included opium and henbane, even if it didn't knock her out, like chloroform would have, it would certainly leave Sansa high as a fucking kite and unable to resist me. I could carry her to the stables with stories of how we'd escaped from a Lannister ambush that had killed her guards. As neither Jon nor Arya would believe that perfect Sansa had slipped her guards to appeal to Cersei over her own father, that lie should hold up until we were out of Kings Landing.

We all stood and looked at each other grimly as we prepared to leave, but a sound came that turned the blood in my veins to ice.

The bells of the Red Keep had begun to ring. All of them. A moment later the bells of the Great Sept joined them, then all of the remaining bells in the city.

Bells rang all the time of course, for many reasons beyond timekeeping, but all the bells were only rung together for one reason.

The king was dead.

Robert had died early. Robert had died fucking early and now I was trapped in the Red Keep with Cersei and Littlefinger. Both of them aiming for my head with the thousands of guards at their combined command, against which I had forty.

Jon turned to me, even paler than usual. "I thought you said that King Robert wouldn't die before at least mid-day!"

I barely heard him. I'd sunk down into the closest chair and had begun to hyperventilate with panic. I knew that I had to focus, but all I could see was the three of us being overwhelmed with Gold cloaks and Lannister guardsmen. Our heads displayed on pikes above Maegor's Holdfast's gate. I couldn't breathe, gasping as if I'd been poisoned as the same thought ran through my head over and over. He died early, he died early, he died early…"

There was a pounding on the door as a messenger called through it. "My lord! My lord! The Queen Regent commands that you attend the King in the throne room at once!"

"Renly….Renly!" There was a resounding slap as Loras hit me open handed before sitting between my legs and taking my face in his hands. "Focus on me. All will be well. You planned for this, you have your bag of mummers tricks. We can still get away, but you have to focus!"

My breathing calmed as I synchronised it with my lover's and Loras smiled proudly as I regained control. "What do we do Renly?"

"My lord! The Queen Regent commands…"

"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!" I roared through the door at a volume reminiscent of King Robert. "You have awoken me from sleep. I will dress and attend the king as soon as possible." I continued at a more reasonable level.

Footsteps led away from the door as I swallowed and pushed my dread and fear for all our lives down, focusing on what I could do to give us a chance of making it out of this catastrophe. If Ned hadn't even had the chance to call the small council to him in the Tower of the Hand, then Robert clearly hadn't died of natural causes. Something I had done had to have spooked Cersei into smothering him herself for her to be ready to move so quickly after his death. I could think of no other reason for her sudden ability to beat Ned to the punch oh so conveniently combining with Robert dying before he should have done.

Littlefinger must have moved like greased lightning to get the gold cloaks on side in under three hours. I'd gambled that it would take that long just to find Slynt and the other commanders in the middle of the night, let alone bribe them, give them their orders, and get their men into position. It had proved to be a terrible gamble that may cost me my life and the life of the man I was in love with.

I had done what I swore I would never to do. I had underestimated the charismatic schemer. Just like Ned.

I focused on the Tyrell knight still kneeling between my legs before my thoughts could spiral into debilitating panic again. "Your task is unchanged. Get to the barracks, collect both your household guard and the remains of mine, and secure the stables. We need to be able to ride out as soon as I arrive with the others."

Loras nodded sharply in acknowledgement. "What of the Royal guard? Should I attempt to bring those that accompanied us on the hunt with me as well?"

I shook my head. "They'll have reported to Robert's guard captain by now and we have no way of knowing which way he will fall. We cannot risk approaching him and then finding out Cersei has turned him, or that he is loyal to Joffrey on his own initiative. Ignore the Royal guard. Use just yours, mine, and any Stark guards you encounter. We can't fight our way out with brute strength in any case.

Loras kissed me hard before heading out of my solar. As a third son who was known not to have a head for plotting, he wouldn't be at the top of Cersei or Littlefinger's 'capture immediately' list and so could still move relatively freely. I would not have that luxury. Neither would Jon as he was Ned's bastard and thus a hostage who had immediate value. I was frankly stunned that it had been a messenger at my door rather than a score of Lannister guardsmen. But then Cersei was, in one of her rare moments of competence, trying to gain the allegiance of the small council without bloodshed. She would even have let Ned return North if he had just bent the knee and kept his mouth shut. Though doubtless assassins would have followed him shortly after. She would want to see if my allegiance could be bought or coerced with threats before making such open moves as taking me hostage. As soon as she realised that I wasn't heading to the Throne Room to bend the knee she would revert to type.

Jon was still staring at me, his body taught as a bowstring and his face a mask of worry. I drew two sets of dull brown servants clothing out of my emergency bag and threw one at him. "Put it on over your armour."

Jon looked at me as if I'd been hit in the head. "No one will be fooled by these! They'll clearly see our armour beneath."

"No one close will be fooled by these." I countered while pulling the coarse brown shirt over my head and cursing when it snagged. "But they will fool the gold cloaks on the walls, as well as anyone looking out of their windows. They'll all be too far away to see details."

Jon gave in and tugged his own servants' clothes on, trying not to rip them when they caught on the edges of his armour. I inwardly thanked Arya for the idea as I picked up the bag and made sure that our daggers, Jon's sword, and my morningstar, were all concealed before heading to the door.

I stared at Jon before opening it. "Remember; we're servants, look down, don't run, appear busy."

Jon nodded and I opened the door before heading into the servant's area of the Red Keep, descending the twisting stairs towards the small courtyard.

We walked swiftly but calmly along a covered walkway overlooking the main courtyard below. I could see Ned struggling his way across it, the white cloak of his ever-present shadow, Ser Ayres Oakheart, standing out clearly against the red stone of the keep.

Jon tensed and looked as if he wanted to fly to his father's side. I grabbed his upper arm and lent in. "Remember, your father believes his plan will work. I'm only to take you all from the city as precaution."

"If you believed that you'd be down there with him." Jon hissed angrily.

"If you believe my doubts rather than your father's confidence then it makes it even more important that you listen to your father's commands." I hissed back. "Your father wants your sisters out of the city and away from any reprisals, he has trusted you with protecting them. Are you going to let him down by putting your own wants above his clear command?"

Jon tensed still further, but my manipulation had been pitched perfectly and he let me pull him along the covered walkway again. Soon the main courtyard was out of sight, thought it would still take Ned a long time to reach the Throne Room due to his shattered leg. Time only made longer by all the steps on the way and the fact that the Lord of Winterfell was too proud to be carried in a sedan chair. I had time. But not much.

Jon stopped following my lead suddenly. "This isn't the way to Arya." He muttered mutinously.

"Arya is protected by Edric and Syrio, Edric knows to bring her to the stables if the Lannisters come for her before we do." I replied shortly.

"But Arya…."

"Has a hundred ways to flee." I cut across Jon's protests. "Sansa only has one. Unless she has developed the ability to fly since I last saw her. We must reach the Tower of the Hand before the Lannisters."

The fact that the Red Keep was so quiet did not bode well. There were still servants, but far fewer than usual, and there were no highborn at all. The inhabitants of the Red Keep could clearly sense the danger in the air and were all barricading themselves in their rooms if they could possibly get away with it.

We approached the last corner and my heart sank. The smashing of a warhammer into wood could clearly be heard.

"Is that?" Jon asked fearfully.

"We won't know unless we look. Stay close to the wall." I instructed. Thankfully, none of the perimeter walls had a view of us from this angle, so we were able to creep up and peer around the corner and across the bailey to the Tower of the Hand without attracting attention.

It was as I feared, Cersei hadn't waited for Ned's answer before beginning to move. The strong door that was the only entrance to the tower was splintered and broken, the clear victim of the abandoned battering ram laying next to it. Inside the door a figure in mail was visible on the floor, blood pooled under them. The figure wore a grey cloak trimmed in white satin.

Clearly Cersei was intent on taking and keeping hostages even if Ned did willingly bend the knee once he reached the Throne Room. That or Littlefinger had worked some of his broken telephone magic to ensure Ned would end up in the black cells no matter how his little showdown with Cersei went. Even if for some impossible reason Ned bent the knee today, he would never say a loyal subject of King Joffrey when he came back to discover this.

"No…" Jon whispered. "It's not possible."

I grabbed his arm again. "Come on, we have to go."

That forced Jon out of his disbelief.

He wrenched his arm out of my grasp and looked at me in disgust. "You promised to help Sansa you craven! We have to help her!"

I kept my temper under control. Jon was a teenager, mad with fear for his father and his sister. I had to remember that. "Do you think you can fight twoscore guardsmen?" I asked calmly.

"For Sansa? Yes." Jon replied mutinously with all the confidence of youth.

I fought the urge to smile at his confidence. My body may be only be five years older than him, but life had burned the last of that youthful belief in my own invincibility out of me with the painful and permanent damage I received in my original twenty fifth year. Nine years ago now.

"Could you do it without any of them escaping to bring reinforcements and trap you in the tower in turn?" I asked calmly.

Jon glared at me hatefully, but he didn't lie and say he could.

"It does us no good to give the Lannisters a second hostage, which is what you will become if you run into that tower. Think Jon. Loras has taught you how to command. What has he trained you to do with traps?"

Jon looked longingly at the tower, clearly wanting nothing more than to run in and try and rescue his sister. But he still answered.

"Escape them."

"What was that?"

Jon replied more forcefully. "Ser Loras taught me to escape them. You can return and save the others who were caught, but only if you escape first."

I had his attention; but he still wouldn't take his eyes from the Tower of the Hand. "You're more use to Sansa and Lord Stark free and with a sword in your hand than you are if you're a prisoner with them. Cersei will think nothing of killing a bastard just to prove that she's serious about her threats to a trueborn. Actually, that's probably why she wants you in the first place. Her threats against Sansa would likely force your father's capitulation anyway. But if Cersei makes those threats while she tosses your severed head into your father's lap his capitulation is certain.

My words were getting through, but Jon still looked torn.

"I can't. I can't leave my family to die."

I played my trump card. "Not all your family. You have another sister."

"Arya." Jon whispered in realisation and fear.

I made sure to put every bit of emotion into my voice that I could. "The Lannisters have one of your sisters hostage. I need you to help make sure they don't make that two."

Jon's face turned resolute as he finally tore his eyes from the tower and met my gaze. "We have to save her. I can't fail both of them."

Arya Stark

Arya had hated it when Edric started demanding dancing lessons so early, but that was before she discovered that she loved the Red Keep before dawn. There were no gawping servants, no snooty highborn sniffing at her in disapproval. Just the silent corridors and the occasional guard, all lit in the faint first light of the day that crept over the hills before the sun truly rose.

Syrio was calling out which way he would strike as he danced with her and Edric, but she ignored his words and focused on his hands and feet. Her face still burned when she remembered how she had fallen for his lies when he said that he would strike one way, before then striking the other. It only made it worse when she had realised that Edric hadn't fallen for it.

The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us; but the eyes see true. The little turtle knows, dead girl. With steel at least. But Syrio wonders, does the little turtle know how to see when steel is not in his hand?

Arya kept her eyes fixed on Sryio even when the door to the chamber slammed open. Instead, she turned so she could see both at once, though Syrio moved to stand between her and the Kingsguard that had entered with ten Lannister guardsmen.

The Kingsguard was Ser Meryn Trant and Arya was disappointed that it wasn't Ser Barristan Selmy, or Ser Ayres Oakheart. Neither of them had laughed at her when she had shown them Needle and Father was friendly with both of them.

"Arya Stark, come with us. Your father wants to see you."

Arya made to move, but Syrio snapped his wooden training sword in front of her, making her stop.

"And why is Lord Eddard sending Lannister men in place of his own? I am wondering?"

Arya had never heard Syrio sound so deadly. Looking is not seeing. The memory of the words rang in her head as she thought on his question. Her father wouldn't have sent Lannister men, he hated the Lannisters. Edric moved next to her and cemented Arya's conclusion. Her father may be short of men, but if he had to send ones that were not his own he would surely have sent Jon to fetch her with some of Lord Renly's men. He would never send Lannisters.

"My father wouldn't send you!" She spat at the Kingsguard, raising her wooden sword.

Ser Meryn had clearly run out of patience because he simply gestured at the Lannister guards with him and spoke cruelly. "Take her."

Three of them moved towards her, but Syrio did not move. "You will be stopping there. Are you men or dogs that you would…."

Arya never learned what Syrio was going to say because Edric dashed forwards and thrust his sword into the neck of the Lannister guard closest to him.

His steel sword.

Arya stood in shock as Edric ripped his sword out. Blood sprayed over the Dornish boy, and the wooden training sword abandoned at his feet, as the red cloak gurgled and collapsed. The other Lannisters looked on, shocked, but Edric didn't pause, turning immediately to face the next closest red cloak. That guard managed to get their sword up at the last moment and block the Dornish boy's strike, but Edric had a parrying dagger in his off hand. He drove it to the hilt into the guards unarmoured armpit and twisted, causing the Lannister to slump to the floor with a soft, breathless, groan.

Syrio exploded into action. "Arya child." He called out as his wooden training sword slammed into a Lannister's exposed throat, making guard drop his sword and claw franticly at his now strangely shaped neck as he choaked. "We are done with dancing for the day. Run to your father now." Syrio's sword snapped out again, breaking the fingers of a guard and making them drop their sword. As they were clutching their hand to themselves, Syrio span and placed his boot high in their chest, sending them tumbling over the window's parapet and down into the yard below.

"No!" Edric called out as he dropped to one knee and thrust his sword up into a Lannister guard's crotch before rising and swinging himself behind them as they dropped and screamed, clutching themselves. The screaming stopped when Edric dragged his parrying dagger across their throat. "They'll surely be attacking the tower! Run to the stables Arya!"

Arya froze. She didn't want to leave either of them, but Syrio had taught her to do what he said. But she liked Edric too, and he said that the Lannisters would waiting for her at the Tower of the Hand. Who was right? Both said she should run, but where should she run to?

Four guards closed in on Syrio as Arya stood rooted in place. He pirouetted as one of the Lannisters thrust, letting the thrust glide past him and into the belly of one of the other guards.

"Bloody oafs" Ser Meryn growled out as he advanced towards her.

"Leave her alone and face me Ser!" Edric called out

Ser Meryn gave a nasty smile before turning to join the red cloak that was already attacking Edric. Arya had seen that smile before; on all the bullies she had ever met.

"Arya child! Begone!" Syrio called, even as he plunged the wooden tip of his sword into a Lannister guards' eye, cutting off his scream and making him twitch like an abandoned puppet before falling.

Arya barely heard him. All she could see was Edric franticly dancing, unable to face the guard and Ser Meryn together. Horrible screeches filled the air as Ser Meryn's sword dragged across the plates of Edric's armour. Her friend was unable to avoid the Kingsguard's strikes completely. For now he was able to make sure than the blows Ser Meryn landed only glanced off his plate, taking care to never expose his mailed joints to thrusts. But he was being pushed back into the corner, soon he would have nowhere left to dodge too and then it would he his blood that was spilled. Arya snarled at the bully daring to attack her friend and ran.

Straight towards them.

Looking is not seeing. Arya could see that Ser Meryn was covered in plate armour and that her wooden sword would be useless, so she lashed out at the knee of the Lannister guardsman with all her might, catching it from the side and making it crunch, bending sideways like a young sapling in the wind. The guard screamed in agony and collapsed.

Arya darted in and grabbed the dagger from his belt, terror making her forget all of Syrio's lessons. All she could remember was the first lesson she ever got, the one from Jon. Stick 'em with the pointy end.

She plunged her stolen dagger into the screaming red cloaks' neck.

Ser Meryn looked at her in shock and Edric took that moment to strike hard, plunging his sword into the knight's inner elbow joint. The mail gave under Edric's piercing thrust and the Kingsguard bellowed as he dropped his sword, his sword hand hanging useless as the tip of Edric's sword clanged against the inside of Meryn Trant's elbow plate. Edric wasted no time, spinning round and driving his parrying dagger into the back of Ser Meryn's knee, puncturing the mail and causing him to drop as his bellows got louder and more feral. As soon as he did, the dornish boy thrust his sword through the Kingsguard's visor.

All movement stopped as the white cloaked corpse toppled forwards as soon as soon as the Dornish boy withdrew his sword.

Arya flung herself at Edric and clung to him fiercely as Syrio used the distraction to break one guard's neck and then send the last red cloak over the window's parapet to join his brethren on the stones of the yard below. She could hear nothing but her own ragged breathing as the three of them stood amongst the carnage.

The Northern girl tried to ignore the blood on her hands, refusing to look at the man she'd stabbed. She wished she could forget his desperate gurgles as easily.

"Arya should run to her father." Syrio said calmly, eyeing them both.

Edric replied, clinging to Arya just as fiercely as she was lining to him. "Did you not here me Ser? If they have come for Arya, then the Lannisters are sure to have moved both against Lord Eddard and the Tower of the Hand as well. They have hundreds of guards, Lord Eddard has less than twenty. She would be running into the arms of the Lannisters if she tries to run to him."

"And who would you suggest she run to, little turtle?" Syrio asked dangerously. "To the young buck?"

"To her brother." Edric replied simply, making Arya's heart jump.

Jon. Jon was always there for her. Jon would make everything alright again.

"I want to go to Jon." Arya spoke up before Syrio could reply.

Her dancing master frowned, but eventually he nodded and put his sword away. "And where might we find the lone wolf?"

"Don't call him that!" Arya yelled, remembering her father's words. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

"At the stables Ser, that is where Lord Renly has ordered all loyal to him to rally if we were ever attacked by surprise. Jon will be there, or somewhere between there and here if he knows Arya is in danger."

Arya was out the door and flying towards the stables before either of the other two could move

Renly Baratheon

Jon was unwilling to go straight to the stables, so I led us quickly to the route that Arya was likely to take to them and then headed towards her dancing chamber. Luck was with us for once as we had barely been going for a minute before Arya flew out of the shadows and latched onto Jon, Edric and Syrio only moments behind.

"The Lannisters. They tried to take me. Ser Meryn tried to take me, but Edric killed him." Arya babbled fearfully at Jon who simply clung to his baby sister as if the world was ending.

Which wasn't far from the truth if your name was Stark.

Syrio gazed calculatingly at me. "Where is Lord Eddard?" He asked mildly.

I wasn't fooled by his tone. "Walking into a trap. The Lannisters have already forced their way into the ground level of the Tower of the Hand, it's impossible to rescue Sansa. If they could spare this many men to capture the girls then Lord Eddard is surely already beyond rescue. All we can do is flee and deny them two more hostages."

Arya looked up fearfully at Jon. "No! We have to help father!"

Jon gripped her tightly, clearly hating every word he was saying but focusing on his little sister's survival. "We have to get away Arya. We can come back for Father and Sansa, but only if we get away. Father wouldn't want us with him in the black cells. He made me promise to get you to safety."

Arya fought, but Jon was adamant and eventually she stopped struggling. "Father really made you promise?"

"Aye. To protect both you and Sansa. I've already failed Sansa, don't make me fail you as well by running into the Queen's trap." Jon implored.

Arya nodded reluctantly. That and Jon's presence seemed to be enough for Syrio, who relaxed and took up the rearguard position, eyes constantly flitting around, looking for Lannisters and gold cloaks. Our group headed towards the stables, miraculously not running into any more trouble along the way, and arrived to find Loras with twenty Tyrell and twenty Baratheon guards fully armoured, mounted, and waiting for us.

An old man was propped up against the stable door next to Ser Loras. He was bandaged up, but still gasping and clearly not long for this world. With a cry of "Hullen!" Arya ran to him nonetheless.

"Arya….underfoot….you must….warn….your lord father….warn…" the man died before he could finish. Jon pulled her away, eyeing the Stark master of horse and the groom and three Stark household guards that had perished with him.

There was only one Lannister corpse.

"The Lannisters got here first, they were gone when we arrived." Loras answered our unasked question.

"Why have they not returned?" Syrio asked, puzzled.

"Likely they don't expect anyone to escape and make it here. They don't know my Stag." Loras boasted proudly, with a loving look at me.

"Well, lets ensure that we make it further than here shall we?" I commented dumping my bag at my feet and opening it.

Loras frowned at the sight of what he had christened my mummers bag. He was not fond of it. Likely because I had made him the test subject for all its contents.

"Edric, get out of your armour. Loras give him the extra Baratheon set I told you to bring from the barracks."

Edric didn't ask questions, though he was clearly burning with them. He quickly moved to Loras, who detached one of his horses' saddlebags and dumped it at Edric's feet with a clash of metal before moving to help him.

I withdrew a pair of scissors and passed them to Syrio. "Jon's hair, most of it has to go. Leave only a thumb length." The dancing master stared at me for a moment but acquiesced and began to cut Jon's shoulder length black hair back to barely two inches long. Jon was already in Baratheon guard armour rather than his own, I had seen to that before dawn arrived.

I grabbed a second pair of scissors and quickly pulled Arya to me, hacking her hair into something that vaguely matched the style I needed. Thankfully it was quite close already, so I was able to quickly drop them and pick up a pot of ash blonde powder. Rubbing it into the Northern girl's hair vigorously.

"What are you doing?" Arya asked as I continued to rub it in.

"This is hair powder from a mummer's troop. It will make your hair look as close to Edric's as we can with what we have here." I answered, not stopping. The natural brown of Arya's hair began to fade as it was overloaded with powder, looking passably ash blonde by the time I stopped. Thankfully it wasn't raining, or the powder would be washed out at once.

Edric had finished armouring up in my household guard armour, so I threw a different pot to him. Catching it, he began rubbing the black powder inside into his own hair, obliterating any trace of the ash blonde that was his natural colour.

I ran a damp cloth over Arya's face to remove any trace of the powder from her skin, then threw it onto Loras' discarded saddle bag for Edric to do the same once he had finished with his own hair colour change.

Loras came over to help me dress Arya in Edric's armour as quickly as possible. Edric was two years older and a boy besides, so the fit was not good. But it didn't have to be good, just passable, and it was, with all of the straps tightened to the maximum.

I left Loras helping Arya and quickly moved to Jon as soon as Syrio declared he was finished. The Northerner looked different with his curly black hair cut so drastically, but it wasn't enough. He was still clearly Northern, even if most people would need a second look to recognise which Northerner he was. I grabbed another pot and revealed the olive skin toned makeup inside, scooping up a handful and promptly rubbing it into Jon's face before he could object.

"Others take you! What are you doing?" Jon spluttered, trying to flinch away.

"Turning you into a salty dornish." I muttered, refusing to let him get away. "Your skin is too fair, and your black hair only makes it appear more so. Even with your hair cut the gold cloaks will know you for a Northman when compared to the rest of us. Salty Dornish have curly black hair and olive skin. You already have the hair naturally. This mummers troop makeup will give you the skin.

Jon stopped fighting and I made sure that my work was thorough, covering all bits of his exposed flesh in the makeup. I couldn't do anything about the Stark facial features, but we shouldn't encounter anyone high ranking enough to have enough experience with the Starks to recognise them. I pushed down my modern disgust at the unmitigated racism of blacking Jon up. Justifying it to myself as avoiding people who were trying to kill all of us as I worked. I'd live with the guilt if taking such a blatantly racist step got us out the gates with our heads still attached. Though I would be skipping over this step in my retelling if I ever made it home lest I deservedly lose a lot of friends over it.

When I had finished covering all his exposed skin, including his hands, Jon truly looked Dornish. I gestured for him to mount up. "Don't wear your helmet, you're acting as my sworn sword rather than a normal household guard." I wanted the changes to his hair clearly visible to help sell the illusion of a dornishman with nothing to hide. If people we encountered were searching for any imposters, they would be likely to focus on the helmeted guards. Seeing the unhelmeted main party to be far too exposed to be hiding anything. People's assumptions meant that the best place to hide was often in plain sight and that's what I was rolling the dice on to make our escape with this plan.

Speaking of which, Edric had put on his helmet and joined my Baratheon household guards, blending in perfectly as his height difference to the rest of them was minimised by the fact that they were all mounted. I couldn't have picked him out from them at a casual glance and he was my squire. It gave me hope that no one else would recognise him either.

Arya's transformation was nearly complete. Dressed in Edric's armour, with her hair now cut and coloured to match Edric's style and natural ash blonde colour, she looked nothing like Arya Stark of Winterfell. Loras attached Edric's purple cloak, resplendent with the white star and sword of House Dayne, completing the illusion.

Loras helped her mount and 'Edric' took 'his' usual place in my household guards' formation. Thankfully Arya's new ash blonde hair colour combined with the white enamel on parts of Edric's armour to have the opposite to Jon's black hair and Baratheon armour, making her complexion pinker by contrast instead of paler. It meant she no longer stood out as clearly from the sun starved North.

In his disguise as one of my regular household guard the true Edric accepted my banner and slotted it into the fittings on his saddle. As my banner bearer he would be directly behind me at all times and thus protected at the centre of the formation along with me and Arya. Above his head my banner was released and the rampant black stag on gold fluttered in the morning breeze, clear to all.

Loras and Jon mounted, and Jon took position on the other side of me to Arya. Loras rode in front of me at the centre of my formation. Leaving his own banner bearer raising the golden rose on green of House Tyrell among his own guards without his presence. His guard captain ensured that the Tyrells formed a distinct group in front of my own guard.

"What about Syrio?!" Arya cried suddenly.

I cursed. I hadn't planned for this. So many things were going wrong. I was constantly on the verge of panic and I was considerably further into the alphabet than plan B at this point. I stared at the Braavosi for several moments before accepting the truth.

I was out of ideas.

"I don't have any more guard armour. I didn't plan for him to be with us." I replied honestly.

Arya looked to be on the verge of a full-on breakdown, but Syrio stepped up quickly. "Looking is not seeing child, the goldmen, they may look for Syrio. But they will not see him."

The Braavosi gave a roughish smirk before grabbing the discarded servants garb Jon and I had left on the floor. "Syrio will see you again before the sun sets dead girl. I promise you."

I nodded respectfully to him before giving the signal.

My forty-five strong party rode out from the stables as if we hadn't a care in the world. Many people looked on from windows and from the walls. I had little doubt that Varys, Littlefinger, and Cersei would know our location and composition very shortly. Hopefully hiding my Stark charges would mean I was still a secondary rather than primary target.

As we entered the main courtyard my heart nearly stopped. Thankfully my horse didn't, otherwise it would have given the game away, but yet again I was having difficulty keeping my panic under control.

There were hundreds of gold cloaks on the walls. It seemed like the entire Red Keep gold cloak garrison had been called out. If that were true, I was facing down twelve hundred gold cloaks. I couldn't see any red cloaks, so it seemed that the four hundred Lannister household guard were being used to protect Cersei, the royal family, and to secure Ned, the Tower of the Hand, and anything else they deemed important.

There was no sign of the Royal household guard. It seemed Cersei and Littlefinger were as unsure of them as I was.

My party rode up to the gatehouse of the Red Keep. The giant iron banded gates stayed resolutely closed as we came to a halt. Baratheon and Tyrell banners swaying softly in the breeze before the sealed exit.

The Gate Captain appeared after a few moments, confused. He surely had orders not to let anyone out, all of the gold cloaks would. But they had likely been expecting one or two people to try and sneak or force their way out of the postern gates. Twoscore household guards riding brazenly up to the main gatehouse with banners flying, as if they had every right to leave, was clearly not something they'd been told how to deal with.

"My lords." The Gate Captain called out, "I regret that the Queen Regent has commanded that no one be allowed to leave the Red Keep this morning."

The gate captain still stood in the shadow of the gatehouse. I gestured for him to come towards me, where he would be in full view of all of the gold cloaks manning the walls and towers to either side.

Reluctantly he did so.

When he was standing level with my knees, I looked down at him imperiously and summoned my most commanding voice. "Captain. Surely you are not going to obstruct the king's brother…apologies…the king's uncle and Master of Laws from going about his duties?"

"My lord, no one is allowed to leave." The man stammered.

"I know that there has been some trouble with the Stark's." I answered, annoyance leaking into my tone. "It is why I have been asked to go to the docks and impound the Wind Witch, the ship Lord Stark had contracted. Why are you stopping me from carrying out the Queen's orders? She will be most displeased if any of Lord Stark's household escapes."

"The Queen's orders are why the gates cannot be opened my lord."

I sighed dramatically. "Look around you. Do you see any Stark's in my retinue?"

The captain's gaze, and that of all gold cloaks within earshot, ran over my entire party.

This was the age before mass media. Unless the smallfolk had a reason to see someone up close multiple times, such as being a servant, a household guard often in the presence of the lord, or having front row seats at a multi-day tourney, they relied on the clothes to tell people apart.

That was why Ser Barristan Selmy had managed to walk brazenly back into a city he was hero of and had spent the vast majority of his life in and remain unrecognised. Despite doing nothing more than discarding his customary armour and white cloak.

None of the guards noticed Jon hiding in plain sight, none of them noticed Edric either. The most difficult to hide was always going to be Arya. But their gazes swept over her as well. After all, with the right hair colour and dressed in Edric Dayne's armour, with Edric Dayne's cloak, who else could the squire next to me be other than Edric Dayne? Certainly not a young northern lady.

The gate captain wavered. But was resolute. "Lord Baelish was very clear about the Queen Regent's orders; do not open the gates for anyone. I'm sorry my lord."

My smile became very fixed as I lowered my voice so only the captain and my retinue could hear.

"Then we have a problem. Because I am leaving this castle ser, and you are standing in my way."

Arya whimpered and Jon hissed in shock. Loras looked on, utterly trusting and unconcerned as he placed a hand casually on Jon's own.

The shock on the captain's face at me admitting I had been trying to bluff him would have been funny under any other circumstance. He drew breath to bellow, but I flashed my dagger from beneath my cloak causing him to make a strangled sound instead.

"You see captain, I have no intention of finding out what the Queen Regent has in store for me. If I have to fight my way to the winches and open the gates myself, that's what I'll do. You are not going to stop me from leaving, the only choice you have is how much blood is spilled in your attempt."

If the captain was one of the few uncorrupt officers that cared about his men, that might do the trick.

"You'll die before you get the gates open if you try and storm the gatehouse."

It seemed I was not going to be that lucky. I leaned in again, my tone sunshine and rainbows, completely at odds to what I was actually saying.

"You're right captain. If I try and storm the gatehouse and open the gates by force it is indeed likely that I will die. Did you notice the important word in that sentence? No? It was likely. Whereas if you force me to storm the gatehouse it is certain that you will die, because you're standing in the middle of my retinue."

I watched the realisation hit home as the poor man paled.

"Likely, certain. Likely, certain. Do you see the difference in probabilities there captain?" Judging from the looks of everyone but Loras, me delivering such threats, including balancing hand gestures, in a tone usually reserved for imparting good news to your best friends was very disconcerting for most people.

Loras was clearly not most people as he was struggling not to laugh.

"But…Lord Baelish will kill me. He was very clear." The gate captain was panicking so I reached down to grip his shoulder in friendly solidarity with a perfect charming smile on my face for all his fellow gold cloaks to see.

"Lord Baelish may kill you. I will kill you. Oh dear, there's that damn difference in probabilities again!"

"I…I...I…"

"You see, Lord Baelish is not here. You can run from him, with luck he'll never find you. You can't run from me, I'll cut you throat before you can take a single step."

His will broke. Looking forlornly up at me, the captain nodded before drawing breath again.

"If the words you call out do not help me, captain, then you won't live long enough to see the results." I singsonged.

"OPEN THE GATES!" The captain bellowed.

The creaks and groans of the main gates to the Red Keep began immediately as the winches pulled them slowly open.

Seeing as my party had casually strolled through the Red Keep making no attempt to hide, had exchanged a clearly happy and friendly conversation with their captain, and had no Northerners or ladies among us, none of the gold cloaks in the gatehouse or on the surrounding walls and towers were surprised by the order. We were clearly on the winning side and had just been dispatched by Lord Baelish to deal with something that hadn't been foreseen when he had ordered the gates kept closed.

The gates slammed back against the walls of the gatehouse, fully open, as the early morning sun casting shadows on the path leading down Aegon's High Hill and into the city.

The path that was now completely open to us.

I looked over at Loras. "Take your guards and secure the River Gate."

The amusement disappeared from Loras' face in an instant, to be replaced with shock and a little anger. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Loras," I singsonged again to throw off any who could hear my tone if not my acutal words. "The dear captain will have all his crossbowmen loose the moment he's away from our swords, and if the city gates aren't closed already they'll close them before we can reach them. Don't argue, go. I'll be right behind you."

"If you're not I'll hunt you through all seven hells." Loras hissed angrily. But it he did realise that arguing with me right now would only increase the chances of us all being turned into pincushions. So he casually broke away, summoned his household guard, and set of down Aegon's High Hill at a trot. I soon lost sight of the flowing green and gold of their cloaks and so turned back to the sweating gate captain.

"Laugh. Make it look as if we are exchanging stories."

He followed my orders exactly, even if anyone close would have clearly seen that he wanted to piss himself. We managed to continue the charade for almost a quarter of an hour before a white cloak appeared at the other side of the courtyard.

Surrounded by gold cloaks who were stained with the blood of Ned Stark's men, Ser Barristan Selmy looked down in utter shock and disbelief at my escape attempt.

Perhaps the constant state of near panic had finally left me hysterical, because I couldn't help but give him the two fingered casual goodbye salute from home in the seconds before he recovered.

"Go. Now!"

"Close the gate!"

"Loose! Loose you idiots! Loose!"

It all happened at once. No sooner had I retaken the reins and shouted then my entire retinue surged forwards into the gatehouse as fast as we could go.

The traumatised guard captain began yelling for his crossbowmen to kill us as soon as the last of my household guard had passed him without cutting him down. I hadn't given the signal for them to do so as I wanted to keep the reputation of my word being good. Whether he managed to escape Littlefinger's and Cersei's wrath was not my problem.

Ser Barristan's calls to close the gate were useless. The gates were far too heavy and thick to close quickly. He would have been better off calling for them to drop the portcullis, as a simple hammer blow to its lock would see it fall into place at once due to gravity. But even if the Lord Commander had had the wit to call for it, the gold cloaks in the gatehouse and on the wall were all so stunned at the complete 180 degree turn in the situation that it took them a few moments to respond.

A few moments which my retinue used to clear the gatehouse and continue charging, building up to a full gallop as fast as possible.

The blood pounded in my ears as my horse thundered on the cobbles. A crossbow bolt whooshed past as I franticly tried to recall my calculations in an attempt to control my now full-blown hysteria. Babbling them aloud as more bolts rained down around us.

"A crossbow's range is 400 yards, but it can only be aimed up to 200 yards. Beyond that all but the most elite archers rely on blind luck or massed targets to hit anything."

There was a horse's scream as the first one went down, a crossbow bolt through its neck. My guard went down with it, unable to jump clear, and the two riders behind crashed into them as well. Three were dead already.

"Our horses can gallop at 30 miles an hour, 44 feet per second." My voice ascended the scales even as my horse reached its full gallop as we careened desperately down the hill. There were several thudding sounds as quarrel's buried themselves into the shields that my guards had slung over their backs. There was more than one cry that said that someone had been hit, but no one ahead of me had fallen out of formation. I dared not look behind.

"Speed halved due to a standing start, twenty seconds to clear aimed range."

Edric screamed as a bolt buried itself in his arm and he dropped my banner. It clattered to the ground and the air was filled with the screams of horses and men as the thick pole bounced, breaking the legs of the two horses behind Edric. From the screams it seemed likely that all the riders following them had ploughed into the carnage, I dared not stop to look to confirm it. Edric cradled his arm but managed to retain control of his horse.

"Full speed achieved, ten more seconds to clear full crossbow range."

We made it without losing anyone else, though there were a couple more injuries due to the sheer number of bolts being loosed at us. I could only thank the Seven that the gold cloaks didn't count longbowmen amongst their number or we truly would have been finished.

Our gallop slowed to a canter as we reached the top of the hook and entered the steep curving road. The muddy street was filled with people, people who promptly started screaming as my surviving guards moved to the front and drew their swords.

"Make way! Make way!"

I winced as the smallfolk scrambled franticly out of the way of my guards. There were only five of them. Fifteen of my twenty men hadn't made it. My hysteria tried to choke me again at the realisation of how close our escape had been already, we weren't even out of the city yet.

The bells from the Red Keep changed their tolling.

I had gambled on the fact that Littlefinger wouldn't have had time to get the gold cloaks on side and in position. My much-reduced retinue showed how foolish that had been, but I hadn't been wrong entirely. Littlefinger had moved like greased lightning to seal the Red Keep in the much smaller time window he had had, but it seemed that master schemer hadn't been able to do the same for the city gates with so little time.

The bells were ringing out the lockdown sequence. I could almost translate it in time with each of the chimes in my head as they repeated over and over.

Close all gates, close all gates, close all gates.

"They're closing the gates!" Jon called over. Arya clutched her reigns tighter and rode as close to him as she dared, what little colour she had left draining from her face as we fought to maintain a canter through the scattering people and the steep curving incline.

"Trust Loras and keep riding!" I called back. The gold cloaks only had three barracks. The one in the Red Keep had already been emptied by Littlefinger to try and prevent anyone from escaping. The two in the city were by the Dragon Gate at the city's northernmost point, and at the Gate of the Gods at its westernmost. No one could reach us from either of them in time even if they were mounted and began galloping down clear streets at this very moment.

We would only have to deal with the normal wall patrols and gate garrisons.

We finally burst out of the narrow hook and into fishmongers square. Here we were slowed to a walk by the crowd that had gathered surrounding the River Gate, or Mud gate as the smallfolk knew it. Seeing us appear from behind them with swords drawn made the crowd panic and they began stampeding in all directions. I tried to ignore the many people I saw crushed to death as we pushed forwards, just like the seven men I was forced to swing my morningstar into when they tried to drag either me or Edric from our horses.

Panic can do strange things to a man, such as making them attack a plate armoured morningstar wielding rider with nothing but homespun clothes and their hands. The resulting combat was predictably short and bloody as we forced our way forward. We eventually broke through the last of the fleeing crowd to see what they had been staring at before our arrival.

The River Gate was half closed, and the gatehouse was a mass of green and gold cloaks as Tyrell household guards battled city watchmen. Loras appeared at one of the parapets, his sword covered in blood, waving franticly at us.

"Go! Go! We're right behind you!"

Just as when I had said the same to him, there was no time to argue. I had to trust Loras, and I did, riding through the half open River Gate and guiltily passing the corpse of the River Gate Guard Captain. I remembered he was one of the only uncorrupted gold cloaks, but it seemed that same honesty and integrity had meant he couldn't bring himself to allow us through.

We rode quickly through the warehouses of the docks towards the ferries. They were all casting off, trying to get away from the carnage, we galloped towards the largest one still present and Jon placed his sword at the ferryman's throat.

"Untie that line and you're a dead man." He growled, pushing Arya's, Edric's and horses onto the ferry itself before barking orders at my remaining guards to form up on him, guarding the ferry's jetty.

We didn't have to wait long. Loras came charging through the docks at the head of twelve horsemen in Tyrell colours. Each of them had a torch which they were throwing into the wood and thatch of the warehouses as they rode at speed, fire beginning to take hold in their wake.

Their horses scrambled to a stop and everyone quickly joined me, Aya, and Edric on the ferry. Loras gathered me in a crushing embrace as Jon did the same to Arya.

Wordlessly we all watched as the ferry pulled away from the docks and began crossing the blackwater rush.

"That will defiantly stop them following us for a while" Edric muttered painfully at the sight of the growing flames beginning to consume the docks. He groaned at any movement to his arm which still had the crossbow quarrel buried in it.

I nodded wordlessly, the panic and hysteria receding for the first time since the sun came up.

Against all the odds we'd done it.

We had gotten away.