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It was a weary, and rather tired Eddard Stark that made his way to the Tower of the Hand- the dark night's moon peeking through his windows, the affairs of... Everything was heavy on his head.
Truth to be told, most of the affairs involved the... Messenger from the gods. The messenger that the gods he had prayed to for as long as he could remember had seen fit to send. Seen fit to deal with Westeros.
The very fact it had been in this day and age, as opposed to the previous man to hold the crown, was a worrying thought all on its own.
For what madness could possibly eclipse that of the Targaryens? Worse, what madness had his oldest friend, with the crown at his beck and call, somehow fallen to?
Madness plenty it seemed. If the words of the messenger proved true if the words he'd heard that fateful day when he'd first met him. The words of the stranger his daughter direwolves had led him to, words that proved honest.
A man who knew of an impossible memory. The dying plea, echoed by his long-dead sister.
Of treacherous knowledge, and ominous warnings.
And frankly, having spent enough time taking heed of the crown prince, taking heed of his mother and her brother...
All he felt was anger.
Anger at their duplicity, their dishonor. Their vile treachery.
It wasn't enough that they practiced the same... The thought made him urge for a bucket to pour his dinner into. It wasn't enough that they laid with one another- The queen had seen fit to provide Robert, the crown, the kingdom, children born out of incest, out of-
He took in a deep breath.
What was the point of the war they fought? What was the point of his father and brother's death? Of Elbert Arryn's? Of the countless number of soldiers, loyal and otherwise?
What was the point of all that needless death, if in the end, the bloody Lannisters had seen fit to continue the same madness that had led to a war the likes of which Westeros hadn't seen for decades!?
The Lannisters whose only inclusion, whose only help in the rebellion was to sour it, to twist its purpose thanks to the hands of Tywin Lannister.
The murder of children. The sacking of a city.
And in the end, they had been rewarded with a queen. In the end, they had been given a far bigger honor than was their due.
And this was how they repaid it?
If not for the tales of the White Walker's return, a tale that truthfully was the only thing that kept him somewhat sane with the revelations of the Gods intervention, he would've marched into the red keep and denounced the Lannisters for their treachery, and more than likely instigated a war then and there.
Truth be told, he had been glad when he had heard of the Mountain's gruesome death. Had been more than happy to cement the lie that it was an accident, even if Robert knew the truth himself. Even if the vile queen cried for justice of all things.
In the end, it had been easy to see why even Robert wouldn't have gone with the truth, even if it had been staring at him in the face.
Even if it had been the result of someone he hadn't taken a liking to.
To tell the court that a single man, half the size of the mountain, had leisurely walked into the man's tent, openly taunted them all into killing him, and proceeded to gut them all like rats.
With a dagger.
Even jaime Lannister, his... Everything be damned, had looked in horror at the idea of a single man that could do such a thing- Even he had begrudgingly accepted that it must've been an accident, for anything else was... Well. Too much to bear thinking to a man who had spent his life trying to reach the level of skill necessary to do so, to believe a stranger half his age in appearance able to pull it off.
It would've been madness. For that was what the court would've seen. They would've seen Robert going down the same road that led to the Targaryen madness that had long befell the former king.
It was only as he settled into his seat, in the tower, that Eddard Stark finally noticed the letter on his desk.
His eyes narrowed, he promptly picked it up and started reading, his eyes growing wider with every line.
'Dear Ned. Can I call you Ned? I am gonna call ya Ned. See, Ned, killing the Mountain, and well, getting away with it-'
He couldn't help the tension in his shoulders as his mind could only grasp the meaning of such words.
While Robert had been lenient in declaring it an accident, he'd made it expressively clear that there would be no more- At least not until the damned tourney was over.
Though he supposed the Messenger could always ask for a trial by combat- One he'd very likely win to clear his name for whatever overdue justice he more than likely intended- He shook his head, the hard part would be convincing the man to actually ask for one, instead of cheerily walking up to the bloody headsmen block.
'- I figure, given your noble status, that I have far more freedom compared to the bloody hand of the king! Which isn't saying much- When ya wanna die, there's very little to dissuade you!'
He could practically feel the forming headache, his mind half a second away from ordering another detail of guards to go searching for the mad seer.
Though truthfully, considering what he revealed to him, a small part of him was starting to understand his wish for death.
The man had no attachments, no reasons to help the realm, and by all accounts, death was likely to lead to something better for him.
At the very least, Eddard Stark supposed, the man had been generous enough to warn him of the treachery that likely would've taken months- And on the account of the White Walkers, would've taken too long to learn of regardless of when, or even if, he ever found out.
'-So, I figured, why not solve some of your problems for you? Go on a good ole' fashioned killing spree! Here's a list of the coming corpses, and their crimes! Though, by the time you read this letter, I reckon they'll already be dead- When you hear the bells toll, know that I likely won't be in the city anymore, so don't waste your poor guards' breath! Oh, and try to keep bobby alive will you?'
"...Oh... No..." The words escaped his mouth as he read on.
'Tommen ain't ready for the crown just yet.'
He blinked once, twice, and a third time for good measure at the line he'd just read.
The sinking feeling in his chest grew-
The Messenger was advocating to keep a spawn of incest on the throne?
Could he? With all that he knew? Would he allow such a thing?
Honor and duty determined that he warn Robert, that he rightfully claim that Stannis, until a true heir was born, deserved the throne should the King, gods forbid, fall...
Yet... What right did he have to question a messenger of the gods themselves?
It took him a second later to realize the true implications as he stiffened.
What of Joffrey? If the messenger claimed that he ought to keep- Why not Joffrey? He was the elder.
Yet, just as his eyes went further down, towards the list- Just as his ears picked up the sound of the bells tolls in the distance, his stomach sinking further...
As he stared pointedly at the list of names...
He knew then and there, that he would need to prepare. Would need to call the banners.
For Tywin Lannister was, without a doubt, going to march on the capital.
His guard's echo promptly took him out of his stupor, Eddard's gaze swiveling towards the hurried, gasping man at arms at his door.
"Milord!" There was a stricken look on his face. "The King has called for a council!"
A single beat passed, one he dared not interrupt as he watched the man gasp for air.
"The royal family has been struck! The Queen- The prince!" There was pure horror on the man's face.
With a single wave of his hand, Eddard pointedly walked past the man, his footsteps hurried, even as his mind failed to comprehend the turn of events.
A small part of his mind idly wondered if the Kingslayer's body would be found next?
If the Master of Coin, his wife's childhood friend, and the man responsible for his foster father's death, already had a knife in his neck?
If Armory Lorch, the man who killed a child, former royalty aside, gruesomely, was dying this very instant? With the whole of Kingslanding focused on the royal family...
A city in chaos was ample grounds for a dagger in the night to do its job.
He visibly shook, entirely unsure, nor prepared to deal with the fallout.
With the blessing that had fallen into his lap.
No disgrace would be necessary- Perhaps a war could be avoided entirely in truth, and the honor of the throne upheld... The coming White Walkers... While an ominous threat all the same, it would be better handled if the full might of Westeros didn't descend into war before it came upon them.
Tommen... And Stannis's girl would do enough to truly keep Baratheon blood on the throne.
Perhaps even persuade Stannis himself, should his brother be the one to tell him.
Though he abhorred the idea of killing a child... The words, the crimes, and the madness that the letter spoke of regarding Joffrey Barath- Lannister was... For the gods themselves to consider him a blight when even Aerys had been allowed to live far longer than he deserved said quite a bit on the boy's mind.
He shook his head.
The dreaded letter was still in his hands.
The dreaded letter, urging him to pin the blame on the messenger himself, if only to halt the coming war, by the barest of days. The dreaded letter that was signed off by the man's true, albeit strange, name. And its meaning.
The letter he would likely need to have burnt... Or used as the proof needed to halt a war... Though certain parts may need to be covered up, or removed entirely-
He shook his head, he would worry about it after the coming meeting, his mind instead focused on the immediate future.
For Karma had come to Westeros, the gods' divine justice.
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