The city stank.
Hours after the fighting had ended, the fires that briefly raged through Fleabottom were extinguished. Ash and gore remained behind to smolder and rot. The morning sun warmed piles of corpses heaped outside the city gates.
The Vale and Stormlanders were being arranged for burial, while the city's defenders were dumped in large piles.
Ned was able to have the Northern dead separated from the masses. He presided over a small service and arranged for their gravesites. The amols of his fallen men were distributed to their liege lords, to be returned to family and friends.
A messenger came around noon, bringing orders from the King. Ned and his vassals were escorted to the Red Keep to swear their oaths anew before the Iron Throne. Ned was relieved that King's Landing was in better condition than the Lannisters had left it during the Rebellion.
The Vale army had kept close to the walls, fighting and capturing the gates and towers while Stannis had pierced through the defences at the Mud Gate then marched straight to the Red Keep.
It was unclear how the King entered the castle. The Red Keep's gate was singed but unbroken and no other breaches were easily seen. Perhaps a turncoat? A fearful Crownlander who thought to gain clemency by opening the way to the new ruler of Westeros?
The fighting had not been easy inside. Pools of blood stained the floors and walls, with the occasional discarded sword. Servants scurried back and forth, watched by men in burning stag livery. Stannis was already cementing the Red Keep as a stronghold, no doubt he'd have the entire staff replaced soon enough.
Worryingly, a strong smell of smoke drifted down the larger passageways. The Northern Lords slowed their steps. It was coming from the throne room.
/
Lions and roses were burning.
Flags and banners only, thankfully. Stannis watched over his bonfire, perched upon the massive throne, still dressed in his armour. He was a beacon of red and yellow amongst twisted steel and long-cold iron. On his brow was a crown of crimson-gold, shaped into the rising points that flowed like flames. Seven red gems had been inserted along the rim.
Davos Seaworth, the newly instated Hand of the King, stood near the dias giving out strict orders to ranks of Lords and Knights. One by one, groups filed out heading for the corners of the Crownlands to consolidate Stannis' hold on his new domain. The gifts and favours would come later, but at no great speed. Each man would have to prove their worth for Stannis to consider any kind of generosity.
"Preseting, Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North!" A Page announced.
Stannis looked away from the crackling wood and motioned them forward.
"Speak of your battle, Lord Stark," Stannis said.
A quick summarization of their part in the siege ended with the news of Lord Bolton's death and the unfortunate fate of Rickard Ryswell.
"Captured by the Tyrells?" Stannis repeated.
"Yes, Your Grace," Ned answered. "Multiple men saw Lord Ryswell knocked from his horse as you conquered the city. Soldiers bearing the Golden Rose took him as they retreated. I expect a ransom to be sent from Highgarden soon enough."
"Hmm," Stannis leaned back, resting his gauntlets on the throne arms, apparently unconcerned by the blades and rust.
"If I may ask, Your Grace, how did you take the Red Keep so swiftly?" Lord Condon spoke.
"With little resistance," the King replied. "From what the servants say, Cersei ordered the garrison to reinforce the outer walls. Those left behind were quick to fold under my might."
A strange order, but perhaps Cersei had been desperate and out of sorts.
"What was the fate of Cersei Lannister? What of her children?" Ned wondered if golden shrouds would be dragged into the room. Were small corpses once again blessing the crowning of a new King?
Stannis frowned, his teeth gnashed. Seaworth stepped forward and spoke in his stead.
"Cersei Lannister, along with her sons Joffrey and Tommen Hill, have disappeared. Of the Small Council, Grand Maester Pycelle has been imprisoned but Lord Varys and Lord Baelish are likewise missing," the smuggler informed them.
"What of Myrcella Hill?" Ned asked.
"She was sent to Dorne before the siege, House Martell has the girl. We shall see what they want in exchange for her," Queen Selyse said as she emerged from a side entrance. The Red Priestess on her heels.
"We are not completely without prisoners," Seaworth continued, "Tyrion Lannister was captured during the battle. He's unconscious from wounds taken outside the Mud Gate but his squire was willing to reveal what he knew in exchange for his Lord's life."
Ned absorbed the news, reevaluating the pieces at play. Marrick Flint leaned forward, "What of the Kingsguard, Your Grace?"
"Ser Trant and Swann are missing, Arys Oakheart is in Dorne at the former Princess' side. The others died in the fighting," Stannis informed them.
"Even Ser Barristan?" Lord Flint asked.
Stannis sneered, "Joffrey Hill saw fit to dismiss Barristan the Bold. I've been unable to locate him. He may have fled the Prince of Tongue's anger across the sea."
"Will you finally appoint your own Kingsguard, Your Grace?" Cerwyn put forward.
Ned had initially wondered at the order's absence once they'd taken Storm's End. Renly had been all too eager to form his Rainbow Guard. Seaworth had remarked that King Stannis did not want "a Kingsguard," he wanted "the Kingsguard."
"That shall be discussed at a later time," Queen Selyse replied.
The Red Priestess was staring at Ned. Her gaze was intensely uncomfortable. The men in his company had always felt unnerved by her, though a few found the woman's mystique alluring. He wished Maw had accompanied him, but the Wolf was taking a well-deserved rest back at their camp.
"The Queen is correct. Matters of my guard can be considered later. At the moment, I have a task for you, Lord Stark," Stannis commanded.
Ned bowed, "We are at your service."
"My remaining enemies must be brought to heel. The Tyrells are retreating to Highgarden, while Tywin Lannister roams the Riverlands. We've found evidence amongst the former Grand Maester's letters that Lord Lannister was planning to abandon the siege of Riverrun to reinforce King's Landing. I want you and your men to accompany a force from the Vale and hunt down the Old Lion before he can retreat back to the Westerlands."
"I shall make ready to leave at once," Ned agreed.
Stannis stood from his throne and descended.
"Also, I would have you send for your family. Princess Shireen is on her way from Storm's End and one of your daughters would make a fitting lady-in-waiting."
The King did not propose Ned leave one of his daughters south, he expected it. Now was not the time to push back, not when King Stannis stood on the apex of his victory.
"My wife and I would be honoured," Ned said.
It took three days for the Northmen to secure enough supplies and horses for their journey. Ned coordinated with Lord Redfort and Hunter to take the Gold Road and hopefully reach the southern border of the Riverlands quickly.
A week into their march, a messenger met them bearing news from the Stony Sept. Tywin Lannister was coming south with all haste.
His army had tried to break west to the Golden Tooth, presumably after learning of the Battle of the Blackwater. The River Lords had rallied and fought pitched skirmishes with the Old Lion up and down the Red Fork to deny him a passage through the fords. Rumor had it that the "Young Wolf" was on the hunt and gaining on Tywin with every hour.
When Ned asked about news from the Reach, the messenger said that infighting had erupted. The Florents, Tarlys, Fossways and Oakmonts had raised their banners for King Stannis. The Tyrells were locked away in their castle with a supposedly wounded Garlan Tyrell on his deathbed. The Hightowers had not stirred and the Redwynes were likewise silent. Ned hoped the Reach could be brought into the King's Peace with little blood shed. Westeros would need every scrap of grain in the coming years.
Their army continued on, veering off the Gold Road and crossing the Blackwater Rush before it split at Three Swords and Tumbler's Falls.
Soon enough, the Vale scouts report sightings of the Lannister army. The Redcloaks were past Rushing Falls making a straight path south along Straight-Sword Tributary, right for them.
/
This clash in the Riverlands would be remembered as The Lion Hunt.
For all his ruthless and unforgiving reputation, let no one call Tywin Lannister a simpleton. With Robb Stark and the River Lords at his back, the Old Lion took the news of the Vale and Stark men standing in his way with deadly seriousness. He ordered his army to divide in two. Each half marched against one of Tywin's foes while the main cavalry moved quickly back and forth in search of an opening in the battle lines.
Demoralized but loyal, the Redcloaks took the full brunt of the oncoming armies. The southern force broke quickly, turning from a shield wall into a mass of fleeing men. That route was another of Tywin's plans.
Ned and his allies could not easily pursue the Lord of the Westerlands with the army fleeing in front of them, lest they be attacked from behind by a rallied force. Robb and the Blackfish were likewise stymied.
Once finally clear of the Westermen, the Lords fruitlessly prowled the hills all the way east to the Gods Eye. They found many stragglers and captured their fair share of knights, nobles and squires but their prey had escaped by the skin of his teeth.
How Lord Tywin made it back to Casterly Rock, none of the loyal lords knew. Though some said that the Old Lion had never been in the battle to begin with. He had slipped away from his army when he realized the trap was nearly sprung. Crossing one of a hundred tiny, unnamed fords under cover of night in disguise.
/
Ned's part in the War of Three Kings came to a close that day, on the banks of the Gods Eye, staring out across the calm waters at the mysterious Isle of the Faces with Maw by his side. The island was a bulwark of red reflected in the turquoise lake.
Ned had stood on the opposite shore, within sight of Harrenhal, almost a year ago, when he came south with his friend and king, searching for answers, for justice. He reflected again on the mystery of the island. Were there Shepherds there? Some deeper, greater truth that a holy place revealed to only the special few visitors? Ned was sorely tempted to commandeer a boat and find out for himself. War, death and chaos laid behind and ahead, yet the Isle remained. Was that its greatest power? To move through time unchanged when the rest of the world waxed and waned?
Maw twitched and turned back; standing still only for a breath before bounding forward past the Stark guards. Elation and relief bubbled up Ned's throat. He spun on his heels and likewise marched at a quick pace, moving through the ranks of men setting up camp, all the way to the far edge of the army, where a group of riders watched two massive beasts collide. Not in anger or bites but in affection.
Robb was among them, he leapt from his horse and surged into Ned's arms.
His son was here. Alive. Breathing.
Ned's tears of relief dripped down to Robb's hair. The young man's height nearly matched his own. Robb had grown, probably more than in just body.
"Father…" Robb was likewise lost for words.
"You have made me so proud," Ned said instead.
Taking a second to breathe, Robb stepped back and turned to his companions.
Ned went forward and greeted the loyal lords. Giving each a personal thanks. Many demurred, speaking only of their duty and gladness to fight once more for his family.
Greatjon and Lord Manderly had nothing but praise for Robb, the Mountain Clansmen were ecstatic to speak of his son's courage, his prowess on the field. They all had no end of praise for Brudarhov, for The Young Wolf. Harrion Karstark was somber as he explained the death of his younger brother, Ned's namesake, and the wounds dealt to Lord Karstark. Ned imagined Robb was not looking forward to his betrothed's grief at the loss of her brother. Time would tell if Lord Karstark would recover in full, Harrion might be pressed into taking on more and more duties in the meanwhile.
Some thought should be put to his marriage. Harrion had thus far avoided a betrothal, no doubt his father was waiting for the most advantageous match before committing.
"Tell me, are your siblings well? What of your mother?" Ned asked.
Robb rubbed his face, "By now they should have reached Moat Cailin. Mother remained at Riverrun, she refused to leave Grandfather's side."
Ned understood Catelyn's desire, but it also meant another day separated from her. An ache he could not get rid of.
He looked over Robb's head, finally realising something was amiss, "Where's Jon?"
The battle-tested commander that was his son, blushed and glanced down at his toes.
"Robb, where is your brother?"
"In the North," Robb mumbled.
Ned resisted the urge to growl, "Why did he not come with you?"
"He was already gone by the time the ravens arrived from King's Landing," Robb explained, "He was venturing into the Gift."
"What could he possibly be doing there?"
Robb glanced around, ensuring no one was in earshot, he leaned and whispered, "Finding the Three-Eyed-Crow."
/
A/N: Another shorter chapter, finally we have wrapped up the Southern Affairs in this arc. We'll be rewinding a bit in the next chapter to follow Jon and the Shepherds as they head into the New Gift and Beyond-The-Wall.
A quick summarization of the end of the War of Stags, mostly because I didn't see a real need to drag out the proceedings. The gist of it is that Stannis now holds the crown, Cersei and her children are missing, Varys and Littlefinger are similarly MIA, Tywin Lannister is on the lamb and the Reach is now in turmoil. I need time to decide how that will all shake out but now we get to see what Jon Ghoststark is up to!
