The White Wolf of Westeros

by DrakeCross

The Wild Hunt is defeated and Ciri steps beyond to face the source of the White Frost. However something goes wrong and Geralt risks himself as he follows her, ending up in the land of Westeros. Dealing with new intrigue and politics, he will have to decide who he can trust while trying to save his adopted daughter...along with the lives of both worlds!

23. S1-E22: The Age of Strife

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Age of Strife…

Forward: I'd like to again thank Rainsfere for his editing and peer-review of this chapter along with Althad Eissa AlMbarizum.

…

Gendry stared back at the Witcher sternly, the young blacksmith having not been pleased being forced to leave his home at Mott's workshop. It had been a day since the delivery of supplies to the Stark loyalists, though the young man's mood hadn't improved since. When the rest of the men learned he was one of King Robert's bastard children, they subtlety treated him with more respect, perhaps because the boy seemed like a splitting image of the late ruler in his youth.

"You've been quiet ever since we've taken you in, Gendry." Geralt muttered, leaning back against the nearby wall while the boy sat on a nearby cot. "I know your not happy with this…"

"Considering I never had a say in it…"

"Yet would you have agreed to leave if I asked you?"

Gendry didn't answer, only fiddling with the bull shaped helm, the same one Geralt had seen him working on in the past. The boy stared at it before glancing up back to the Witcher. "So what about the others?"

"Others?"

"My other brothers and sisters. The other bastards of my father?"

Geralt didn't answer, gaze drifting off to the small dirty window that just showed the open harbor outside. "Nothing we can do for them. Too many to track down…too many with families and livelihoods here."

"So, your abandoning them." The boy's tone was accusing, spiteful.

"What would you have me do? Trounce into very damn brothel and poor household that Robert decided to lay in?" The Witcher answered back sternly. "I'd like nothing more then to get them to safety, but the risks are too great.

"Then why bother with me?"

"Because Robert went to great lengths to keep you safe and cared for." Geralt shifted from the wall, pacing closer to the boy. "When I questioned him about you, he showed such regret. Deep down he wanted to properly raise you but couldn't because of the risks it brings." Stopping before Gendry, he'd hold one hand out for the helm, the Gendry hesitating before handing it over for the Witcher to examine.

"I just wanted to stay at the workshop…finish my apprenticeship and start my own blacksmith."

"Life is never simple Gendry. I don't expect you to rise up as the next heir to the Kingdoms…that isn't the life you want. Hopefully you can continue your craft once we're safe with your Uncle or in the North." He'd set the helm beside the boy before moving for the door. "Still, more Kings and rulers could do with your good heart…"

Leaving the room, the young smith glanced back at the helm before shifting up from his bed. Brushing over his short cut hair, he gave a shaky sigh as he felt so many conflicting emotions go through him. Part of him wanted nothing more then to run away from all of this, not be dragged around like some prisoner. He'd glance over at his pack, moving over to it as he'd check over his belongings, debating if he should just risk it and run now.

"No…not yet…" He muttered to himself, calming down as he'd return to his cot as he tried to think of a clearer plan, unknowing that during his shuffle through his pack he had overlooked a small leather-bound booklet that had the city emblem of Qohor marked across its front.

…

Two more tense days passed for Geralt and his companions, the group working tirelessly in preparation for Eddard's trial midday tomorrow. While it was night time, the city was echoing with the sound of horns and bells, open celebration of the crowning of King Joffrey. At the least, the guards would no doubt be hung over and tired for tomorrows events.

The Witcher leaned over the meeting table, a larger version of Varys' map laid out across it. He'd glance up at Beric, Davos, Thoros, Syrio and the sixteen other men armed for this mission. They all muttered to each other, hints of uncertainty despite the days of planning. He knew they were all on edge for this, worried of another betrayal like before at the Red Keep.

"Everything feels…to well thought out…too certain." Thoros grumbled as he'd glance over the laid-out routes. "I know you believe Varys, but I sure as hell don't."

"Thoros has a point. This could all be one big trap to crush us all." Beric muttered in hesitant agreement.

The other arms men muttered mixed thoughts, seeming divided as well.

"Are you worrying maids or men?" Syrio accused sharply, making Thoros glance at the short duelist. "If fear and doubt grips you so much, I question how any of you can survive one battle."

"Want to test me Braavosi!?" Thoros growled, giving a bloodthirsty grin as he'd stare down at the shorter man.

"Enough!"

The sharp order from Geralt made everyone silent, since they never heard the gruff man speak out so loudly. Those cat eyes gazed across the group, unblinking as he examined each person. "You are all right to doubt this mission. I feel just as doubtful that things will play out as expected." He calmly stated. "Lord Eddard knew the risks he was taking when he confronted Cersei. No doubt every death that happened that day haunts him right now." He'd a low sigh as he'd collect his thoughts. "If anything, I'd rather not put any of your lives on the line."

Davos stepped up to the table, staring back at the Witcher. "I know deep down you'd prefer to do this alone. You're not one to rely on others…not like this." He stated. "The odds are damn against us, yet I know very well what will happen if we leave that poor girl in the Lannister's hands."

The men gave nods and short remarks of agreements, determination returning to them.

"Then let's go over the plan one last time." Beric added as he'd point over the map. "Right now, Lord Eddard is being held in the cells of the Great Sept for the night, while Sansa remains under watch in the Red Keep. Midday, she along with most of the Lannister family will travel to the Sept on separates routes through the side streets of the city."

Geralt nodded before he'd speak up. "Once the trial ends, Eddard should be escorted to the western most gate, the Gate of the Gods, to be sent off to the Wall…at least from Varys' estimates. The both the Lannisters and Sansa will return to the Red Keep once again through separate routes." He'd tap his finger over one intersection which Sansa's route arrow passed by. "Here we make our move. We'll surround Sansa's guards quickly and discretely. Then we'll take one of the planned escape routes back to Blackwater Harbor and leave on Davos ship. By the time the Lannisters realize what is going on, we will be long gone."

"So, what if something goes wrong, such as reinforcements or a counter ambush." Syrio curiously asked.

"I crafted these with what supplies Davos had." Geralt gestured to a set of leather wrapped metal tubes and spheres with fuses across the table. "The tubes are flares, a signaling device that armies back home used. Simple alchemy that creates bright flaming projectile that quickly burns out." He'd then pick up one of the bombs. "Beric and Thoros know about my bombs, handy tools for groups of enemies. These simply give out thick smoke to distract and provide cover, good for quick escapes or an ambush."

"Some interesting tools for sure." Davos commented as he examined one. "Surprised the Maesters haven't crafted such things."

"I'm just as surprised. They should have the knowledge and tools to make such things…" Indeed, innovation was quite stagnant considering the long history the world had, though he didn't let such thoughts distract him now. "Overall these devices can be dangerous if misused, so use them as instructed and only if needed."

However, before anything else could be said, one of Davos crewmen would hurry into the room and approach the Witcher. "Uhh…Ser Geralt, there is a small issue outside."

"What kind of issue?"

"Some…well…sellsword. A quite intimidating fellow who wants to talk with you."

Worried looks hinted Geralt's companions, Thoros and Syrio seeming to have an idea who their intruder was.

"I'll deal with this." The Witcher muttered as he'd shift away from the table and head out the door, already drawing out of steel blade. With this individual, he was taking no chances.

…

"Bloody Hells Geralt! Put that damn thing away!" Bronn cursed out as he backed away at the sight of the Witcher with his sword in hand. Despite the man's surprise, he had his usual smug smirk on his face. The sellsword had his hands up away from the sword and dagger at his hips, though the Witcher still was on guard for any sudden moves.

"How did you find us?" He sharply questioned. "If you've been followed or told anyone I swear…"

"Calm down already! You think I'm a damn amateur or that selfish?"

The Witcher's silence was a simple enough answer back, making Brann roll his eyes slightly.

"Alright maybe I am selfish. However I know Cersei's bounty of you and the others is just a ploy. Considering her history of backstabbing, I'm pretty sure I'd be sharing a noose alongside everyone else."

"Still haven't answered my question."

Bronn shrugged, guessing it was time to explain himself. "A bit of guess work and deduction. Everyone was quite baffled at how you slipped out of the castle unnoticed. However, Tyrion knew your good friends with Davos, someone who everyone else has over looked. Make sense how you'd evade the Watch with his aid and resources."

"Classic Tyrion. Guess he'd be one of the few to come to such reasoning." Geralt muttered. "Still doesn't explain why you tracked me down."

The sellsword shifted a large pack off his shoulder before setting it down between them, then moved away. It was obvious he wanted to give the Witcher space, since he knew just how fast Geralt's reflexes were. Moving to the pack, Geralt opened it up to see some familiar items, packed herbs, potions, bombs and pouches of gold."

"My belongings…" At this point he'd remember leaving them behind, a costly oversight considering his Witcher tools would be very dangerous if fallen into the wrong hands. It was a bit embarrassing that he had forgotten all of this during the hectic escape from the Red Keep. "Why?"

"Because Tyrion knew better. First thing his sister did was have the guards raid your room and smash that tough chest of yours. Smart move considering it took them a long while to crack open." Bronn casually explained. "A lot of it sent off to the Grand Maester to be studied. Had to sneak in to steal most of it back…though I couldn't snag everything."

"Just hope nothing too dangerous was left behind." Geralt picked up the pack and shrugged it over one shoulder. "Thank you for doing this. Surprised you put yourself at risk to do this."

"Oh, I didn't." Bronn smirked slyly. "I was given quite the bonus, a small cut from yours and Tyrion's funds."

"Huh…guess human greed wins out still."

"We all have our vices." The sellsword shrugged, giving an amused grin seeing the annoyed look on the Witcher's face.

"So, is there anything else? I expected Tyrion to have a message pleading for me to leave while I can."

"Guess he realized such words would be wasted considering your conviction and stubbornness. If anything, he's really going to miss chatting over drinks." However, the mercenary gave a small sigh. "Yet I have some personal advice Geralt, whatever your plan to do it's not worth it. Cut your losses and go North while you can."

For a long while the Witcher didn't answer back, only giving that unblinking stare back at Bronn. "That is the thing about advice. No one needs to follow it." There be a tense pause before he continued. "Tell Tyrion we'll meet again one day...share a long few tales over drinks."

"Heh, you sound confident on that claim."

"Because I am."

The sellsword smirked and shook his head, though seemed amused. "Then I'll owe you ten gold dragons if that day comes." Tugging up his cloak hood, he'd give a short saluting wave as he'd back out of the alley. "Try to stay alive Geralt. Rather not see your head on a pike back at the Red Keep."

Once the sellsword was out of sight, Geralt relax as he'd sheath his sword. He understood Bronn's mentality, focusing on himself before all others. Perhaps there was a reason for his self-centered thinking, some past event that made him that way. However, that was a matter for another time.

Walking around to the back of the warehouse, he'd head back inside to rejoin the rest of the group. He'd make sure to tell some of Davos men to double the watch for any trouble, not wanting to take any chances Bronn had been followed or may have lied about giving up their location. He may consider Bronn a friend to a degree but couldn't let such feelings blind him to possible risks. He'd return to the meeting room to tell everyone what happened and discus the minor details of their rescue plan. There were dozens of places everyone had to be and back up plans for any possible situation. He was going to let anything catch them off guard this time, no matter the doubts or risks. One thing was certain, the events of tomorrow would determine the future of all of Westeros.

…

Geralt listened to the ringing bells and chattering that echoed throughout the capital as today was Eddard's trial. He was certain much of the city be out in the streets, wanting to see what was going to happen to Lord Stark. There was no doubt a divide among the people, those who felt Eddard was being framed and those blindly loyal to the royal family.

"Glad I requests those extra tools." He muttered to himself as he'd gaze over his new equipment he had requested from Mott. There was a pouch of throwing knives, fine blades which he'd start to slot in the inner pockets of his leather jacket, chest piece and side of his boots. Been a while since he used such weapons after getting his crossbow, though they'd be effective for short range fights or to weaken his opponents

The other item he requested was a thin weighted chain, a more exotic weapon he used in the past such as against the Striga many years back. While not the most lethal of weapons, he felt it be useful in surprising enemies or getting them tangled up if used correctly. He just hoped he wasn't too out of practice in using it. Carefully bundling the chain up, he'd fit it into a larger pouch at the back of his left hip, easy to draw out for quick use.

Next were a collection of crossbow bolts, specialized one modified through differing diagrams. Blunted bolts had been made counter tougher armor or to knock out enemies, since Geralt preferred not killed the guards who were simply just following orders. He did have more exotic bolts, a few split and explosive bolts for emergencies. Lasted he packed few of his grapeshot bombs, something which he hoped he wouldn't have to use if the mission play out right.

Just as he was finishing up, there was a knock at the door. "Enter."

Davos opened the door, the captain having that serious look in his eyes as he watched Geralt pull his jacket on and strap his swords onto his back. "It's time. Everyone is waiting for your order." The gruff man simply said.

Geralt nodded as he'd grab his dark hooded cloak off the nearby wall hook, though he didn't put it on yet. Following the sea captain to the main meeting room, he'd find everyone else standing by, dressed most were wearing cloaks and plains clothes with leather armor for minor protection. They all looked attentively to the Witcher as he'd glance over each member of the rescue team.

"Usually…this would be the moment someone gives a big heroic speech." He started, making a few chuckles fill the air, easing the tension in the air. "So, I'm going to get to the point. We all know the plan…we all understand the risks. So, let's get out there and make history, show the Lannister we're not finished yet."

The men gave a short hurrah at the final words before everyone began to file out of the warehouse side door. Syrio, Thoros and Beric would make sure to lead everyone safely to the ambush point before meeting up at the Grand Sept to watch the trial.

"I know my place is here at the docks, but I wish I could come." Davos muttered, catching Geralt's attention. "The boat will be ready for your hopeful return. Besides that, I wish the best of luck to you."

"Thank you, Davos." The two firmly shook hands before Geralt moved aside to the nearby door, though stopped when he noticed Arya suddenly rush out from the other room. She was dressed in spare boy's clothes, the best the group could get for the young girl although she didn't complain. She had Needle at her hip, tied on with some strong twine.

"I want to come as well!" She suddenly pleaded, a determined look on her face.

"No." Geralt simply answered back, knowing well why she was doing this now. "I get why you're doing this. You want to see your father before it's too late."

Arya didn't answer, only glancing down before nodding slightly. "Just…you could have one of the men watch me. They could take me back once the trial is over."

The Witcher shook his head though. "We don't have anyone else to spare to watch you. Besides we have too many recognizable faces as it is." He'd put a hand on her shoulder, trying to have her look at him. "I know you worry and miss him, yet he wouldn't want you to put yourself at risk like that."

The girl balled her hands into fists, seeming to agreeing and hating the Witcher's reasoning at the same time. She didn't argue though, only pulling away from his reach and hurrying back into the other room before Geralt could say anything more.

"She'll understand." Davos muttered. "I'll make sure to keep a close eye on her, make sure she doesn't run off on her own."

With that assured, the Witcher moved back towards the side door out. "Then I'll see you in a few hours. Stay safe Davos."

"You too Geralt."

Watching the Witcher leave though, the old smuggler had a strange feeling come to him. It was that gut instinct that something bad was going to happen, something beyond anyone's power to prevent.

…

It was slow work getting all the way to the Grand Sept discretely with the streets filled with people, even in the back alleys that snaked throughout the capital. However, Geralt made sure to keep his cloak hood low and blend with the crowds during the long walk up to the grand cathedral. While he had visited it only a few times during his trips through the city, it easily dwarfed even the grandest buildings of faith from his world.

The plaza held statues of famous saints and Kings from Westeros history spread about, looming over the sea of people gathered here. From the nearby buildings, the nobility and higher born watched the crowd, seeming amused seeing the masses so excited. Geralt glanced among the commoners, his sharp gaze able to pick out Thoros and Beric who were spread out towards the side alleys linking into the plaza. He couldn't see Syrio, guessing the man's short stature made it harder to notice him. His attention though did quickly focus on the front of the cathedral itself.

At the front of the Sept was a rough stoned stage with differing levels to it, a place where public decrees and events were hosted. Already the royal court and family was gathered, standing on various levels of the stone platform. On the right side was Sandor, Varys, Pycelle, two members of the King's Guard along with a well-dressed man with the symbol of the Seven set on his robes, no doubt the current High Septon.

The left side of the mid-level was the Watch Commander Janos Slynt with three City Watch standing beside him. Nearby was Jaime, the young knight now wearing the fine plate of Lord Commander for his order. Despite the grand rank he had earned, the man seemed quite tense as he'd glance over the crowd and look to the upper stage at the rest of his family.

On that higher level of the stage was Cersei, Joffrey, Tywin and Sansa. Joffrey was dressed similarly as last time, though now with his 'father's' crown rested on his blond head. The boy had a pleased look on his face gazing over his subjects, no doubt enjoying the adoration shown to him.

Cersei was dressed lavishly as always for public gatherings, wearing red and golden dress with a wide cloak covering her. Her face was calm though a hint of pride showing, no doubt with her believing she had achieved a full victory over the week.

Tywin as usual wore fine plain noble clothes, being practical as always. While the man often had passive looks on his face, Geralt could tell Lord Lannister wasn't amused by what he was witnessing. It made the Witcher wonder what was going on between the rest of the family, considering Cersei's aggressive grabs for power. He just hoped the stern lord could keep some order to this farce of a trial.

Lastly for Sansa, the girl was obviously distraught despite how lovely she looked with her well-kept hair and fine dress. It looked like she had cried recently from what he could tell, though she did well to stay composed before the gathered crowd. Geralt knew she was mainly there to be shown off and to remind Eddard the price of not confessing to his 'crimes'.

"Not much longer…" He muttered, as the bells tolled for the coming hour, the beginning of the trial.

From a grand entrance of the Grand Sept, a group of City Watch stepped forward, two of them dragging Lord Stark forward towards the baying crowd. Eddard looked quite roughed up, hair disheveled, parts of his face bruised from beatings and eyes half closed from the bright light of the day. He was in the same clothes as the day he was arrested, the leather ripped and dirtied from being stuck in a cell for a week. He'd glance about the plaza and the massive crowd, people cursing or pleading to him as the guards yanked him forward.

The City Watch cleared a path through the commoners, giving enough space for a few to grab or spit at him, though Eddard did well not to react to the abuse. Geralt kept his hood low as they'd pass by, not wanting to be noticed by his friend. It would be easy for Ned to mistake his appearance here to be a rescue plan for him, which may complicate matters.

Soon Ned was dragged up to the stone stage, the man looking upward at his daughter who stared back, a pleading look hinting her face as he'd pass by. Reaching the center of the platform, the guards stopped and let go of Lord Stark, making him stand on his own. They'd march down to the crowd, forcing them back as they made a perimeter to stop anyone from getting too close. Perhaps it was to keep the angrier commoners back or security from the people who supported Eddard.

By now the crowds baying slowly quieted down while the bells gave their final tolls. Soon silence followed as Eddard looked forward, doing his best to seem strong before everyone.

"I'm Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell…and Hand of the King." He spoke out, voice strong and clear despite his obviously weakened state. For a moment he'd pause, face tensing as if he was biting his own tongue before he'd quickly glance to his right, looking again at Sansa who gave a few short nods. "I come before you to…confess my treason…in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King…and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold…I plotted to murder his son." Again he paused, jaw shaking as he struggled to be calm as he forced himself to speak out lies. "…and seize the throne for myself."

The crowd spoke out then, mix of anger and disbelief filling the air.

"Treason!"

"Lies!"

"Damn the traitor!"

There were too many words going about, making it even hard for Geralt to understand what the crowds were even saying. However, he could see a good few being silent, doubtful despite what they were hearing. Suddenly though Ned flinched as a stone was thrown at him, striking at the right side of his brow. The Witcher clenched one hand into a fist, wishing he saw who did that just so he could crack their jaw in payment back.

The blow bruised and cut the skin over one eye, blood trickling down over it. Sandor moved up from behind as Eddard nearly lost his balance, the tall armored warrior supporting Eddard up though the Northern lord did well to straighten himself and show no sign of pain. Without hesitation, he'd continue to speak out.

"Let the High Septom and Baelor the Blessed bare witness to what I say." His head bowed slightly, getting blood out of his eye as it dripped to the ground. "Joffrey Baratheon…is the one true heir to the Iron Throne. By the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The boy had a pleased grin show on his face as Eddard 'admitted' his legitimacy. He'd glance over at his mother who had a small smile hinting her lips, enjoying her enemy submit in such a way.

Cheers began to fill the air after Eddard finished speaking, seeming pleased with the disgrace lord 'admitting' Joffrey's right to rule. However, before the crowd got too noisy, Pycelle shuffled forward with his arms raised up to get everyone attention.

"As…as we do sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men."

Geralt quickly lost track as the Grand Maester rambled on about traditions and faith, making him shut out most of the words of his long-winded speech. The old Maester would finish though, turning to look looked over towards Joffrey with arms gesturing out to him.

"…what is to be done with this…ummm…traitor your grace?"

Again, the crowd spoke out.

"Mercy!"

"Death to the traitor!"

"Let the gods decide!"

"Send him to the Wall!"

Joffrey grinned as he'd raise one arm up to silence the masses, the people eagerly awaiting his words. "My mother wishes me to have Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of all titles and powers to serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa…" He'd glance over to the young woman, the boy's face having an affectionate look on his face. "…has begged mercy for her father."

A hopefully look showed on the girl's face, a thankful smile even crossing it.

However, Geralt sensed something was wrong as Joffrey paused, glancing back towards Eddard. "But they have the soft hearts of women! So long as I'm your king, treason will never go unpunished!"

The young king's remarks drew confused looks cross Sansa's and Cersei's faces, while Tywin's expression became sterner. Even Geralt was realizing what the brat was building up to. "No…you can't be that crazy and stupid…" He muttered under his breath.

"Eddard wasn't alone in this treason and his cohorts lurk among us now. Thus, an example must be made for their defiance." He'd glance off to the right towards a group of lesser knights standing beside the stage. "Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

At that moment chaos broke out. The crowd went wild, cheers and shocked cries filling the air as the divided people spoke out. Geralt was certain many remembered the Mad King's own choice to execute a Warden of the North and how that broke out into a full out war. Others however just wanted to see a beheading happen.

Ser Ilyn, a tall bald man was quick to step up onto the stage, followed by a page carrying a massive and recognizable sheathed blade. It was Ice, House Stark's ancestral blade, the weapon Joffrey had planned to execute Ned with. Already Geralt had a gut feeling Joffrey had planned this from the start, it was the only explanation.

Two of the King's Guard stepped up, forcing Eddard down onto his knees. Ned's expression was just blank, just empty of all thought as the man was completely helpless. He had done everything right, confessing and lying for the sake of his daughter, yet now he was about to pay the ultimate price for one boy's sick enjoyment.

On the stage, Cersei grasped at Joffrey's side, speaking to him in a hushed tone though the boy ignored it, a pure look of malice in his eyes as he'd look between her and Eddard.

"NO! NO! PLEASE STOP THIS!" Sansa pleading out, trying to move closer to the boy, before one of the King's Guard behind the group moved up to keep her back. She was quick to struggle, almost slipping out of the man's grasp as she was becoming frantic now.

Tywin had a look of baffled surprise on his face, which was short lived as it twisted into anger. He'd look at Joffrey, yelling something out at him and his daughter beside him. Whatever was being said angered Joffrey back who snapped out, all while Cersei gave a look of pure terror over what was being said. If anything, Tywin seemed ready to strangle the boy, making Cersei get between them as she tried to reason with bickering two. He'd turn about to the executioner, but his commands were being drowned out among all the noise.

Varys was completely shocked by the order, the chubby man glancing a bit as if looking for someone to intervene. He'd hurry over to the other side of the stage, trying to speak between the arguing Lannister's, being completely ignored.

Jaime glanced about at everyone, unsure what to do in the pure chaos breaking out. He'd turn about to speak to Janos, trying to give orders to the man who stood about in confusion. The young knight pointed about, seeming to be wanting the Watch to intervene somehow. He'd step up towards his fellow King's Guard, trying to tell them to let Eddard go, though the men seemed unsure with the conflicting orders.

During all of this, Geralt struggled forward through the crowd, pushing and shoving until he neared the front of the stage. The Watch was struggling to keep the people back, shields up and swords even being drawn in warning. Already the Witcher questioned what to do, knowing right now the plan to save Sansa was completely changed now…ruined even. "EDDARD! EDDARD! NED!" He yelled out, trying to get his friend's attention.

The man must have heard as he glanced up suddenly, eyes wide as he'd look over the crowd before noticing Geralt. Even with the cloak hood up, he could just see the Witcher's scarred face and cat like eyes. A small smile hinted his face, though it was cut short as Ice was drawn out beside him, his executioner raising it up in show before the people.

Adrenaline kicked in as Geralt knew there were only moments left to decide. For a moment he closed his eyes, shutting out all the chaos around him. When he opened his eyes again everything was going in slow motion and the only sounds being his own heartbeat and breathing. It had been too long since he been placed in such a moment of stress, though he never expected it to happen in such a situation. His hands flexed and clenched at his sides, his body tensing up as he was ready to move.

"Hold it you…oh…oh gods!" The Guard started when Geralt pushed his way towards him, hood falling back to reveal his face. The man didn't get another word out before the studded fist of the Witcher punched right at his throat, crushing his windpipe with one move that left him gasping for air. Grasping the choking guard, he'd fling it hard to the right, slamming into the other two guards who could hardly react before being knocked to the ground.

"Its him! It's the White Wolf!" Someone in the crowd yelled out, awe in their voice. Quickly all focus on Ned's nearing death was gone as voices spoke out about Geralt, muttering his name and titles.

"Get them Witcher!"

"Someone stop him!"

"Down with the nobles!"

Suddenly people were outright fighting as the supporters of Geralt and Ned started to clash with those with the royal family. From the offhand comments it seemed there were some commoners who just wanted to lash out against the high and mighty, seeing this a chance to do so. People tried to rush the stage, forcing the line of guards to keep the mob back with raised shields and swinging swords. It was going to become a bloody brawl, but a suitable distraction for the Witcher.

Geralt didn't hesitate as he'd bend his legs and leap up onto the stage, clearing the five-foot height with ease. In mid-leap, he'd draw his steel blade before landing, body twisting about just as the execution swung Ice down. The Witcher wasn't sure if the attack was meant for Ned's neck or for him since he now stood in the way. It didn't matter though as he'd block the giant blade, the ringing sound of the two swords ringing out over all other noises.

The clang seemed to stop everything as for a moment silence filled the air as the Witcher and Ilyn struggled in a clash, though it was short lived. With a growl, Geralt pushed back to make the man stagger with Ice raised up. The steel blade then slashed across, cleanly cutting the man's hands off.

Right then did the noise return, screams, cheering and yells drowning out the executioner's garbled cries of pure pain as he dropped to the ground, shaking as he stared at his bloodied stumps while Ice clashed to the ground. However, Geralt wasn't distracted by the bloody scene as he'd twist about to face Sandor and the two King's Guard, the trio rushing in to attack without hesitation.

"Bloody Witcher!" The Hound growled out; sword raise up to strike.

Geralt simply raised up his left hand though, fingers twisting about which Sandor quickly recognized. While the dog helmed man turned away in time, the two King's Guard didn't as they got caught in the short burst of flames shot out by Igni. While it was little more then embers, the flames were enough to set their cloaks on fire and the heat to sheer the faces, making them yell out in a panic. The sight of flames had Sandor freeze up, the man backing away as the two royal guards struggled to put the flames out.

The Witcher though was not finished as he'd reach for one of the smoke bombs at his belt, throwing it to his left as Jaime and the City Watch were trying to intervene. The loud bang and thick smoke caught them all off guard, confusing them for a few short seconds, all the time Geralt needed to cut Eddard hand bonds off. He'd grasp around Ned's side, supporting him as the man struggled to get up from his knees.

"Can you move on your own?" Geralt asked as Eddard stood up, legs shaking slightly.

Ned nodded, panting as he struggled with exhaustion. "Aye…"

"Geralt!" Jaime's voice yelled out, the young knight stepping through the thick smoke. His face showing no anger, but a determined focus as he stared down the Witcher. "By order of King Joffrey, you are under arrest!"

"KILL HIM! KILL THE TRAITOR!"

Both men looked at Joffrey who was yelling from his higher spot, pure rage showing as he looked right at the Witcher. Cersei had a look of true fear, trying to tug her son as far away as possible. Sansa who was behind them had a look of shocked joy, a first for Geralt. She wasn't struggling with the lone guard who was keeping her as a hostage. Tywin meanwhile looked over at his son and the Witcher, the man having that stern look as he was no doubt thinking over the many possible outcomes that could play out.

"Seems he says otherwise." Geralt calmly stated back to Jaime. "Let me and Eddard go. Enough bloodshed has happened."

Jaime shook his head, stepping closer with his sword up. "Why…there is no escape here. This isn't going to be a repeat like before." He'd gesture out to the crowd, a riot seeming to be building up as people started to brawl between each other or with the line of guards. "Surrender. Father and I will…"

Yet Geralt shook his head. "No. No more deals or bargains. We walk…that is my offer." His gaze was tense towards Jaime, body shifting into a ready fighting stance.

"Then I'm sorry Geralt…"

At that moment there was a bang and a whistling sound, drawing yells and screams from the crowds. Everyone on the stage except Geralt looked up to see a flare streaking through the air, arching high up over the roof tops. More followed as the rest of Geralt's companions alerted the rest of their forces out from the side streets.

Geralt however took advantage of the flares as he'd rush Jaime, the young knight only able to react in time as his sword blocked the Witcher's. Both swords grinded together in a clash, sparks flying from the struggle. They'd twist their blades at the same time, breaking the sword lock before shuffling back only to lunge in again. Already the Witcher was being reminded of the duel at the Melee, showing Jaime was fully recovered since that fight.

Yet he didn't have time to settle this battle, knowing he'd soon be facing more of the Watch once they were organized. He'd put his inhuman reflexes to the limit as he'd did a well-timed parry for Jaime's next attack, breaking the knight's stance for just a split second. It was all the time he needed as he pushed his left hand right up to Jaime's breastplate, fingers gesturing the Aard Sign. In that moment, he could see a baffled look on the Lannister's face before the short burst of telekinetic energy shoved him forcefully back, throwing him into the trio of Watch guards off the edge of the stone stage and into the crowd below.

A sudden dizziness hit the Witcher after using the Sign, making his vision blur much like before. However, a firm hand on his shoulder snapped him back to focus as Eddard stood behind him, one hand grasping Ice, though more of dragging the blade. While it was no doubt far lighter than it looked, the sheer size made it too difficult to hold up properly

"Geralt! Hold on up there!" The voice of Thoros yelled out. The Witcher glanced about, seeing Thoros being flanked by Beric and ten of his men. The group was nearing the stage, forcing a way though the crowd before fighting with the few guards not tied up keeping the rioters back.

With aid coming along, Geralt focused his attention towards Sansa and the remaining Lannisters. "Stay back while I get your daughter." The calm statement showed he was dead set on his goal as he'd move towards the higher level of the stone platform. Tywin was the first in front, the old lord staring calmly at the Witcher even as he drew near.

"So, what do you plan to do Witcher?" Lord Lywin gripped the dagger at his hip, though the old man knew well he was no match for Geralt.

"I may be pissed off Tywin, yet I'm no fool like you grandson. I don't agree with you on a lot of matters, but I know you didn't have a role in your daughter's brazen schemes. I think this 'trial' was proof enough."

"Damn you Geralt! I'll make you suffer! I'll-"

"Silence boy! It was a mistake letting you and your mother set up this mock trial, all for your ego and grandstanding." He snapped out, silencing the boy. "Take the girl and Lord Stark. If they are your price, then it is one I'm willing to pay." Tywin shifted aside to let Geralt pass.

"A wise choice Lord Tywin." Slowly he'd walk past him, noting the man's cold stare though focusing towards Joffrey, Cersei and Sansa.

"Stop him!" Joffrey ordered the lone King's Guard holding Sansa in place, making the knight glance about as if thinking the boy meant someone else. "As your King I command-"

"Let Sansa go." Geralt calmly order, tracing the Axii Sign about as he forced the knight to obey him. The man relaxed, armored hands letting go of Sansa's arms. The feeling of weakness was shorter this time, showing that the more power used, the more taxing it was for him.

"So, a brute and a sorceress snake." Cersei muttered bitterly, the woman's gaze full of spite towards the Witcher. "You won't leave this city alive, not with the Watch and our soldiers after you."

"We'll see. Come along lady Sansa, it's time we left."

Sansa glanced at Joffrey and Cersei before him, nodding as she'd move towards him. Yet as she passed by the boy King, he'd suddenly lunge out at her.

"No! I won't let you!" He growled out, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her aside.

"GERALT!"

Her panic wail made the Witcher spring into action, putting his inhuman speed to full use. Cersei tried to get in his way in a blind sense of protection for her son, yet Geralt pushed her aside with ease. Nearing the boy, he'd see Joffrey drawing a dagger to threaten Sansa with…a big mistake on his part. Before he could even raise it up, the Witcher's hand grabbed his and squeezed, the soft crack of young bones snapping just being heard. Joffrey gave a pathetic cry from the pain, dropping the weapon and letting Sansa go. She'd hurry out of his reach, shaking in fear over what Joffrey had been prepared to do.

Letting go of Joffrey's hand, the boy dropping to his knees as he clenched at his broken hand, crying and whimpering. "Y-You broke my h-hand …" He stammered through the pain as he looked up at Geralt, shuffling away from the blade pointed down at him. "I-I'm the King…you…c-can't hurt t-the King…"

Despite the anger he felt, he'd remember that despite Joffrey being spoiled and psychotic brat, he was still a kid. "You're no King though, just a child playing as one." He'd move his sword away, feeling enough time was wasted with him.

Just as he was turning about, he'd quick lean away to avoid Cersei's hand trying to claw at his face. "I'll kill you! Cut those cursed eyes out for that!" She hissed out before her father grabbed her other arm, pulling her away before she could lunge out.

Geralt didn't react as he'd ignore her spitting curses, moving to Sansa who stood by looking terrified. "It's time we leave Lady Sansa." He formally said to her, offering one hand for her to take.

"I…I know…" She muttered while holding back fearful tears. "I can move on my own. Still…thank you, Geralt."

The two quickly hurried down to the main stage were already Stark loyalists had gathered up, Beric and Thoros checking up on Eddard. However, before they could reach them, Sandor and the two King's Guard stood in their way, having dealt with their fire problem. All of them looked angry as well, though seemed hesitant to rush him after seeing what Igni could do. Hopefully Geralt could use their fear to his advantage since he couldn't risk using a Sign in the middle of a fight without tiring himself.

"Sansa. Go to your father and the others." Slowly he moved to get in the way of Sandor and the King's Guard, not wanting them to try and stop Sansa from hurrying over to the Stark Loyalists. "All of you should back off. If anything, you'd be better off stopping the riot instead of us."

Sandor gave a grim chuckle, seeming amused. "This is personal Witcher. I knew since we fought all the way in Winterfell you were a cheat. Whatever your…tricks are, be it magic or crackpot alchemy."

"So, you're doing this over fucking pride then? Being that petty." By now Sansa had slipped by to hurry to the others, Eddard embracing her closely, thankful she was safe.

"Pride is all I got left and if anything, the King's Guard here want your blood for wounding their King."

There was a short standoff, the three foes shifting slightly as they were ready to attack. One of the King's Guard moved first before the other followed and Sandor behind him. At that moment Geralt drew three throwing knives with his left hand, each blade fitting between delft fingers. With pin-point accuracy, he'd throw a knife at each man, aiming for the exposed opening at the shoulder joints of their armor, focusing on disrupting their charge. For the two King's Guard, they couldn't react quickly enough as the sharp blades pierces into the exposed spot, drawing pains cries as the metal cut into sensitive muscle.

Sandor though understood the Witcher better, turning his body just enough to have the thrown blade bounce off his heavily armored shoulder. He'd keep his shoulder up for a tackling charge, though Geralt dodged aside to avoid it. Both twisted as their blades struck against each other, the Witcher holding his own against Sandor's impressive strength and larger sword. Yet he'd quickly realize this was just a ploy to distract him as the other two men had recovered from the knife throws, both closing in quickly to surround Geralt.

"Oh no you don't!" The sudden roar of Thoros drew the two knights' attention before the Red Priest lunged in, blade striking down at one to force him to defend. "Come on fight me!" The men had little choice as the wild warrior lashed out aggressively, his near suicidal behavior unlike anything they had faced.

Geralt smirked, glad he had someone watching his back. From what he could just see the others were hurrying off the stage, Eddard being supported by his daughter and Beric. Meanwhile the other men protected them from any threats, be it from the rioting mob of commoners or the guards who struggled to capture them.

"Don't have time for you Hound…" He growled before he'd force away from their blade lock, turning about for a spinning slash which the large man guarded.

"You run now and I'll hunt you to the ends of the world Witcher!" He threatened back, lashing out with a heavy back hand which Geralt leaned back to avoid.

"We'll see." Blades clashed and spun around, the Witcher putting his incredible speed to use as he forced Sandor to use his reach and size to protect himself. He'd preformed a faint, making the Hound accidently slash out which left his defenses open, giving Geralt a chance to roll past him. "Thoros! The Bombs"

"Right!" The Red Priest kicked the one of the King's Guard back before drawing his own bomb, sparking it's fuse quickly before throwing it down at the same time as Geralt's. The bombs exploded loudly before smoke filled the air, drawing curses from Sandor as he'd swing wildly out, trying to get at Geralt or the Red Priest, both having leaped off the stone platform by then.

The two had their feet land on the back of two guards struggling with the mob, knocking the men down before they hurried off. By this point there was noise on the far end of the plaza, horns being blow as Lannister soldiers came in as reinforcements, already working on breaking up the mob of brawling commoners.

"Damn it…got here faster then I thought." Geralt muttered.

"Must be Tywin's doing. Bet he knew trouble may break out one way or another…though I doubt he expected us to come in." Thoros laughed. "Need to do this more often Witcher! I haven't had his much fun since the Greyjoy Rebellion!"

The Witcher simply shook his head, too tired and focused right now to jest back. Until Eddard and his daughters were safe, then he could do that.

…

For once Geralt realized just how confusing the maze-like alleys of King's Landing were as he'd sprint through them, barely having time to figure which direction to go next. Often, he had to yell out for Thoros and even slow down for the Red Priest to keep up.

"By the Fire…slow…slow down a bit…" The man gasped out, bracing one hand to a nearby wall to catch his breath.

"Tell that to the guards closing in on us. Besides we have to catch up with the main group and make sure their safe." Just as he said that, the familiar bang and whistle of a flare filled the air, making both look upward to see the sparking light being quite close. "They're close and in trouble. Break's over."

The Red Priest sighed as he watched the Witcher hurry off before shrugging aside his exhaustion to give chase. "Damn it! Can't let you steal all the glory!"

Geralt quick traced a path to where the flare had been over, his sharp ears soon picking up yells and the sounds of fighting nearby. Rounding a corner, he'd enter a large crossroads space, pretty much a public yard the commoners came here for cleaning. Right now, though it was crowded with a frantic skirmish between the Stark Loyalists and City Watch supported by Lannister troops. Eddard was in the center, yelling out orders to the men while he kept Sansa and much to Geralt's surprise, Arya as well. The young girl glanced about in a panic, the fighting around her far more brutal and chaotic then what she had witnesses before.

Geralt noticed Syrio close by the Stark family, facing off against two Watch guards he parried their attacks and dodge about, stabbing one man in the side then the other in the back with his sharp thin blade. Beric and his men were trying to clear a path southward, yet most were busy trying to keep the follow of attackers back who filed out from the other alleys. Smoke bombs were thrown as istractions, letting a few get a few lethal blows on the surprised soldiers, yet one by one a few of the Loyalists were being picked off as well. The lack of better armor and weapons with reach left them at a disadvantage.

"Let's even the odds." Thoros yelled out, the man grabbing a dropped shield among the fallen.

"Help keep the reinforcements back while I help clear an escape route!" Geralt ordered, the Red Priest nodding as he charged off, shield bashing a trio of soldiers, giving his fellow allies a chance to regroup.

Geralt moved over to the gathered Starks and Syrio, the duelist quickly seeing the stern look the Witcher had towards Arya. "I found the girl at the plaza mid-way through the trial. Seems she had slipped away from Davos watch soon after we left." Syrio explained, making Arya glance away slightly.

For a moment the Witcher wanted to snap out at her, but the look Eddard's gave showed he had already chastised his daughter for her recklessness. "At least she's safe." However, he'd suddenly hear the whisk of an arrow nearing them, twisting about to deflect it out of the air before it hit him. Looking up, he'd see soldiers on the lower roof tops, armed with bow or crossbows. Seeing one taking aim, Geralt drew his crossbow with his free hand and fired, striking the soldier in the chest before he fell to the ground with a cry. "We're not going to last with arrows and bolts coming down on us!"

More projectiles were fired into the group, Geralt working his blade back and forth as he blocked as many as he could. With practiced skill, he'd reload his crossbow, loading in more specialized bolts such as a split or small explosive bolt to take out a group of archers. The men who had shields raised them overhead to provide cover, while those without kept the ground forces back. Eddard kept low, keeping both daughters close to shield them, though his supporters made sure to provide cover for the lord.

"Damn we just need an opening!" Beric yelled out, kicking one of the guards back and dodging a thrusted spear, quickly snapping the shaft with a strong slash.

At this point there was only one choice left as Geralt moved to draw out a grapeshot. He hated the idea of using such a bomb in close quarters will his companions close by, but he had to risk it. "Retreat! If you value your life take cover!" It was a warning for both his allies and the soldiers, giving them a chance to spare themselves. He'd see a few of the soldiers yell out some warnings, recognizing the Witcher, yet a group seemed determined to press on the assault.

Lighting the bomb, he threw it at the choke point of the alley just as the last of the Loyalists hurried away. The soldiers must didn't back off even as the explosive rolled close, no doubt thinking it a harmless smoke bomb. However, the devastating explosion proved otherwise, drawing horrible screams as the men at the center of the blast were blown into pieces while those just far off were thrown aside. The force of the bomb cracked the nearby walls of the buildings making the alley, causing them to crumble to partly block the way.

"Arya…Sansa…don't look back there…" Geralt heard Eddard mutter, not wanting his girls to see the scattered body parts and splattered blood that bomb had created. Sansa whimpered, the girl no doubt in shock over all the violence she witnessed today. Arya did glance slightly at the gory carnage, a troubled fascination showing much like she had seeing Syrio fight back at the Red Keep.

"Gods…" Beric muttered, the sight shocking even to the experienced lord.

"No time to be battle shocked." Geralt warned, glancing up to see the archers had ducked away, worried of more bombs or exploding crossbow bolts. "Their scared off for now, but they'll be back any moment." He'd pause as he glanced around, debating on a new way forward. All the remaining alleys were no doubt guarded, leaving them cornered in this yard. Before he could speak up though, he heard a click behind him from one of the backdoors to one building. "Behind us!"

Most of the Loyalists turned to the door, weapons raised as it opened. A Lannister soldier stood behind it before suddenly dropping forward onto the ground. A confused look crossed Geralt's face before seeing someone else who had been standing behind the soldier, a gray cloaked figure stepping into view. Even before the hood was pulled back, Geralt recognized the man by just his tall and steady stance.

"Barristan?"

Indeed, the man revealed his face to show the old knight who'd give a small smile to the Witcher. A few of the Loyalists did keep their swords up, yet Geralt waved a hand quickly. "Stand down. He's not with the Lannister's anymore."

"Seems my dismissal reached even your ears Geralt." The knight chuckled.

"I'm sorry you lost your title and place with the King's Guard. Still without your help we would most likely be dead or in chains."

"It was my choice and one I don't regret doing." However, he'd stop as there were orders being shouted in the distance as the soldiers were regrouped for another attack. "Now is not the time for talk though." He'd gesture deeper into the house. "This way should get us around the soldiers. Hopefully we can slip away to the harbor."

"How did you know we were heading there?' Geralt questioned.

"It's the logical approach of escape. Again, save your questions for later."

The men seemed hesitant to follow along, though Thoros and Syrio were quick to follow.

"If there is one man I can fully trust it is Barristan." Beric spoke out, making small mutters of agreement follow up from his men. "Let's get moving!" Everyone began to file into the building, though Eddard and his daughters were let in first.

"Thank you, Barristan." Ned muttered respectfully, placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder.

"Later Eddard. I have much to apologize for once we have time to speak."

Geralt soon followed along while Beric and his few men came in last, closing and barring the door behind them. Inside the house, the Witcher saw eight soldiers spread around the room, all of them unconscious. "Impressive work, even more without killing them."

"Death isn't a fair price for following their duty. Hopefully they will understand their mistakes."

The two older warriors followed the group through the small house, leaving the simple dining and kitchen space to a hallway leading to the front door of the building. Thoros was the first ahead, opening the door and peeking out onto the main street. "Seems to be clear." He muttered as he'd step out first, the rest of the group following along onto the street.

"We are a bit exposed out here, but we now have a clear route to the harbor. Hopefully we'll-" Barristan started before pausing as there was noise coming from the north end of the street, the stomping of boots of a nearing group of soldiers. "I spoke too soon."

"Keep moving! Whatever happens don't stop!" Geralt yelled out, knowing they'd need to be fast to reach the harbor. Already there were distant yells and horns being blown as the soldiers had noticed them. Glancing back, he could see the small army of men giving chase further down the street, crossbowmen among the ranks even taking distant shots.

"Idiots!" Beric cursed as one bolt flew close by. "Seems they don't care about possibly killing the Starks!"

"Or have a lack of orders." Barristan remarked before hearing the clack of hooves. "They got riders!"

There were only six of them, showing the soldiers hadn't had time to mobilize all their forces. They weren't true cavalry thankfully, just soldiers armed with long spears on unarmed horses. Still they'd easy run down the group and slow them down if they got ahead.

"If you have any bombs or flares left use them now!"

The remaining men fumbled for what they had left, throwing the smoke bombs back or blindly firing flares. All the noise startled the riders' mounts, halting their charge and even flinging one man off onto the street. The added smoke screen even provided cover, though a few bolts still flew by around them.

"There is the harbor…and Davos' ship!" Syrio yelled out, pointing it out to the others. Davos' ship was active, the crew busy getting the anchor read and sails out to leave. On the far side of the docks though were more soldiers, a group from the southern side of the city who had been alerted of the Loyalists escape.

"Damn it, these soldiers are everywhere!" Beric cursed as the reinforcements started shooting at the group, forcing the Loyalists with shields and Geralt to focus on shieldng the front of the group. Heading down the slopped street to the docks, a small force of soldiers was charging upward to clash with the group get in the way.

Geralt growled in frustration as three men rushed at him, yet a strong Aard flung them away yelling out in shock. His vision blurred intensely, making stumble as that weakness hit him with the feeling now nauseating as he'd gasped for breath. Despite the shock of seeing their companions get thrown aside, the remaining soldiers continued their charge only for Thoros, Syrio and most of the remaining Loyalists clashed with them. Beric held Eddard up to support him while Barristan guarded Sansa and Arya alongside two of Beric's men. The oldest daughter looked faint from all the running and violence around her, yet she kept going on when her sister held her hand tightly.

Despite most of the foot soldiers being held back, six were able to break away to chase after the Starks while archers farther back took were in position to give support fire. Already Beric and his two men turned to keep the foot soldiers back, forcing Barristan to support up Eddard and keep an eye on his daughters.

One of Beric's men didn't react enough to avoid a spear to the throat, yet his companion yelled out in rage as he gutted the soldier with his sword. It was short lived vengeance though as two of the soldiers closed in, stabbing the Loyalists from both sides. It gave time for Beric to cut down one of the soldiers, yet he was outnumbered by the remaining four. He'd pick up a dropped sword, taking a more defensive stance, though it was obvious the man was exhausted from all the running and fighting.

By the time Geralt had recovered from his moment of weakness, getting the energy to move once more. "Not yet…not when we're this close." Forcing himself onward, Geralt rushed past the main battle, sword spinning about as two men tried to stand in his way. In one flowing dodge, he'd cut off one soldier's hand while he swung out before ducking under the next blow to flank the other soldier, delivering a spine breaking slash across his back.

Nearing Beric, the Witcher drew out his weighted chain, spinning it rapidly with one hand before flinging it out at one of the soldiers. The man was just about to attack, yet soon found his arms bound up to his sides as the chain coiled around him.

"What the- GAHHH!"

One powerful yank and the man was pulled backwards off his feet, landing roughly onto his back. Before he could even struggle to get up, he'd get his nose broken with a strong stomp by Geralt's armored heel. The surprise attack gave Beric a chance to react as he'd swing both blades wide, catching one soldier off guard with slash across his chest while the other barely guarded himself. The other remaining soldier faced off against Geralt, fear hinting his face as Geralt whipped that chain loose from the unconscious man on the ground, holding the chain at his side with his sword forward. "Still want to do this?' He coldly threatened the man, though his attention focused to the other end of the docks.

A group of four soldiers had gone around the far end of the dock to block the way to Davos ship. Barristan had handed Eddard to his daughters while he drew his sword and a dagger, ready to face the men. He spoke something out, no doubt a warning though the men ignored it. Without pause, Barristan lunged in, dagger swinging out to parry one blade back before he'd turn about to avoid a jabbing spear which he snapped in half with his longsword.

The fight did distract Geralt for the soldier facing him to attack, yet the Witcher casually blocked his slash and kicked him back before whipping he chain at his arm, sharply cracking over the limb and disarming the man. Before he could draw a dagger, he'd get punched across the face with thin chain coiled over the Witcher's fist, knocking him out instantly.

Meanwhile for Barristan, two of the men moved to try and flank him, yet one got a sword hilt slammed into the side of the head, stunning him for a powerful kick that knocked him off the dock and into the water. The guard behind him tried to stab out, yet even with his back turned Barristan deflected the attack with his dagger, twisting the small weapon about to suddenly disarm the man. A knee to the gut had him staggered and soon pushed off the edge as well. The remaining two men paled seeing the old knight's chilling gaze, making him drop their weapons and run as he knew Barristan's famed skill was no joke.

Beric at this point finished his own opponent with a swift stab with both blades after breaking the soldier's guard. Geralt hurried over to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder before Beric nodded. "I'm alright…just need a moment."

Barristan relaxed as he'd lower his sword and sheath his dagger before turning back to Eddard and his daughters. Geralt moved with Beric following close behind, though the Witcher noticed a surprise look cross the old knight's face while Ned gave out a pained gasp and shake under the support of his daughters. Sansa gave a terrible scream as her father slumped forward, revealing the arrow deep in his chest.

"Father no! Not now…not now!" Arya was pleading, trying to hold him up. Barristan was quick to support her father up as the girl's struggled, looking to at the Witcher and Beric with a serious look.

"He's still alive! Help me get him to the ship now!"

Berci was quick to hurry over, Geralt hanged back as he'd quickly glanced around to see where the arrow could have come from. His sharp eyes noticed a dark hooded figure armed with a black bow stand up from a warehouse roof a far distance away. Only his enchanted eyesight to have seen the shadowy assassin. Whoever they were must have noticed him or thought his job finished as they slipped out of sight on the far side of the roof.

"Damn it…it's happening all over again…" He muttered, turning to Eddard who was wheezing for air, still holding onto life as he was carried off to the ship. Beric and Barristan handed Ned off to the crewmen who carry him away to safety before the old knight hurried back to the daughters. Sansa was crying and sobbing, while Arya was biting back tears as both were hurried onto the ship by Barristan. Geralt glanced down the docks, seeing the rest of the Loyalists heading towards the ship. Thoros, Syrio along with a mix of wounded Stark and Beric soldiers. They had pushed the soldiers back for now but only have minutes before they regrouped.

There was no time for words as they'd get onto the ship which already creaked as it began to move away, dropping the gangplank behind them. Geralt glanced out at the docks, watching as the soldiers were gathering up what archers they had to take shots at them, with the ship already drifting out of reach. They had escaped…yet at a high cost.

"What happened?" Davos' voice snapped Geralt to attention, seeing the old sailor look to him with a confused look.

"Later…I need to see Eddard." The Witcher muttered, sheathing his bloodied blade at last.

"He's in my quarters. Geralt I-"

"Later. We'll talk later." Without a word, he'd march pass him and the others before they had a chance to speak. While chaos of their escape was over, there was still work to be done.

…

Geralt entered the captain's cabin, which was split into two separate rooms, an office for meeting with the crew and a bedroom for Davos to sleep in. Glancing at the floor he could see a trail of blood leading to the doorway of the bedroom, showing just how deep that arrow had sunk in. When he entered the next room, all the crewmen there turned to look at him, worried looks on their faces.

"Witcher…it's…it's not good." One of the sailors mentioned. "Seen my shares of injuries. Whatever that arrow is…it's not normal."

The Witcher was silent as he stepped closer to the bed bolted to the back center of the room, his attention set on Eddard laying in bed. His dirtied vest and shirt had been cut off him to reveal the extent of his injuries, bruises from beatings and of course the arrow still stunk within him. Just examining the puncture wound showed scrapping around the edges of it.

"Serrated and barbed arrow tip."

"Aye. Such weapons have been outlawed for their vicious injuries. Can't simply pull the arrow out without shredding his insides up. You'd need to cut it out…which is out of the question here. Only Maester with mastered medical skills to even have a chance."

"I know." Geralt moved closer, gripping the arrow shaft as he carefully snapped it off, drawing a pained low grunt from Eddard. The man's eyes opened to gaze up at the Witcher.

"Sansa…Arya…"

"They're safe, but shaken after all that has happened." The Witcher answered back calmly. "Just try not to talk. Arrow is in deep and I-"

"I…know…" Eddard's face twisted, a wheezing gasp escaping him before he'd cough, blood hinting his own spit. It was obvious by the look on his face that he knew this wasn't an injury he'd likely survive.

"Don't give me that look Ned. We've beaten the odds already, not letting this be the end of it." Looking to the sailors, he'd speak to them. "Get me Davos and Barristan. I need to talk to them as soon as possible."

The men gave sort ayes and yeses before they filed out of the room. Geralt sighed as he'd shrug his swords off his back along with his weapon belt. At that point exhaustion was creeping over him, the effects of over using his Signs taking their toll. Looking back at Eddard, the man was resting, breaths shallow as he was struggling to breath. He knew Eddard's didn't have a chance with a punctured lung, an injury that would kill him within the hour at the least. If he had all the rights tools and an experienced doctor like Shani he'd put some chance of survival, yet that wasn't possible.

"May not be able to save you, but I can ease the pain." Going to his pack, he'd pick out a few pain numbing herbs and quick work on mashing them up before mixing it with alcohol. It was a crude mix, yet enough to dull the pain for what time Eddard had left. Carefully tipping the drink to Ned, he'd gulp it down with some effort before grunting as the harsh taste kicked in.

"Ugh…foul stuff." He muttered, notably relaxing more as the drink settled in.

"You got an arrow in the chest and you complain about that?"

Ned only smirked weakly, trying to show some humor despite the grim situation before it faded as the door opened to have Barristan and Davos walk in. Both men had serious looks on their faces as they'd look to Eddard and then to the Witcher.

"I shouldn't have left my guard down." The old knight muttered as he'd walk closer to the bed, fists clenched tightly.

"There was nothing you or Geralt could do. No one could have expected this to happen, not when we were this close to escaping." Davos argued.

"Question is who planned this." Geralt muttered. "Plenty of people want Eddard dead…already have some theories who…though not sure why this way."

"Won't get any answers outside of King's Landing…" Barristan added before Davos spoke up.

"Nothing went as planned today. Despite what happened, we still saved Lord Stark's daughters and that victory for our side."

Geralt and Barristan were silent, unable to deny they had overcome some impossible challenges of late. Both though turned their gazes to Ned though as he gave a low breath.

"Enough of this…I understand your anger…but Davos is right. Save it…for later." He'd take a long pause before speaking again. "My daughters. I want…to speak to them one last time."

Davos gave a short nod. "I'll go get them from the guest quarters." He'd quickly turn to leave the room. Both Barristan and Geralt moved chairs from the other room over, setting them around the bed. Once they were all set, both men took a seat on one side of the bed. Looking across at the old knight, the Witcher gave a tired sigh.

"Shouldn't have played out like this." He muttered, hands brushing across his scruffy chin as he thought of the last stressful hours.

"Fate works in cruel ways. You and I have lived long enough to understand that." Barristan answered back calmly.

Geralt couldn't deny the truth of those words, since he had seen many times the just and innocent suffer while the evil and greedy succeeded. Often such people would fall, often after much suffering had happened before hand. Still he'd silently nod in agreement.

Moments later, the door opened again as Sansa and Arya hurrying in with Davos behind them. The two girls hurried beside the bed, each one holding one of their father's hands. Both the girls were teared eyed, though Sansa seemed moments from crying out while Arya kept them back.

"Father…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snuck out to see you."

Ned gripped Arya's hand tightly, looking to her with a steady gaze. "It's fine Arya. It's fine. I'm sorry…all of this happened."

"You'll be fine right? I mean…Geralt can fix you right?" Sansa questioned, glancing over to the Witcher with a pleading look, though it saddened seeing the look on his face. "Please, you can't die…not after all this!" She'd start to sob, bowing her head as tears trailed down her face.

"Sansa…don't cry…now isn't the time for tears."

The young girl struggled to keep back her sobs, yet she'd calm herself after a long moment. She'd nod, though her body trembled trying to stay composed.

"Right now, I'm happy…to know both of you our safe. I should have sent you home soon…keep you from being caught up in all of this." He'd have a fit of coughs, interrupting him as he'd struggle to catch his breath. "I didn't expect to live today…deep down I felt it…no matter the outcome." His eyes closed, relaxing for a moment before finishing. "If my life is the price…for your safety…then I accept it."

"Its not fair though!" Arya argued out. "You shouldn't die…it should be that Joffrey or…that witch Cersei!"

Ned just shook his head, understanding his youngest daughter's rage. "I know you hate them…many would. Yet keep those thoughts aside…don't let them blind you…to reason." He'd grip both of their hands tightly. "I love both of you…words I should have said far more often. Both of you are strong…in you own ways…strengths you'll need to look to in…the coming days."

"What strength? What do you mean?" Sansa questioned, doubtful about what she heard.

"You'll know…in time." Ned muttered, wheezing a weak breath as it was becoming harder to speak. "Promise me…both of you will protect each other. Put your differences…aside…support one of other…"

Both girls looked to each other, unsure looks hinting their eyes. However, both nodded as they'd look back at their father. "We promise." They both said at the same time.

A small smile crossed Eddard face. "Its nice…to hear you both agree for once. I'm proud." For a moment he'd blink his eyes, the man trying to hold back tears. "Now both of you…should go. Don't forget what I've told you…never forget it."

"Please…we can't leave you now!"

"You two have seen enough death today…I don't want your last memory of me to be this…" He'd take a deep breath. "Go…please. I have final matters to settle."

The two were hesitant, both seeming on edge to argue and plead, yet the warily look of their father had them be silent. Sansa nodded, leaning in to hug her father around his neck before kissing his cheek and whispering parting words before standing up, hurrying away out of the room. Arya hugged and kissed her father as well, yet was more hesitant leaving as she'd glance over to Geralt. The Witcher nodded to her, knowing very well the young girl would need guidance over this family loss. Once she left Geralt and Barristan approached Eddard's bed.

"Paper and quill…"

"Have some in my office." Davos remarked as he'd hurry to his office, getting a writing board, parchment and quill with ink. Already was having a sense of déjà vu for the Witcher, the scene nearly the same for the late King Robert. It was strange the two men, both divided by differing views, shared the same fates in the end. The sea captain though offered the items to Geralt, drawing a confused look from the Witcher.

"An…embarrassing problem Geralt. I'm not a literate man nor good with a quill. This is a matter better trusted to you."

It was an interesting fact to learn, yet it was understandable considering Davos humble beginnings. "Its fine. I can handle this." He'd take the writing board and sitting down in one of the chairs, giving a short nod to Ned.

"I…Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King…give my final will. Robb Stark…my rightful successor will take all my titles, duties and the ancestral sword Ice…to serve the people of the Seven Kingdoms. I ask of my wife…Lady Catelyn Stark…to wisely advise him…guide him in these troubling times, along side our trusted…household." With a short fit of coughing, he'd continue. "As loyal Hand of King Robert…I maintain my claim that Lord Stannis Baratheon…is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne…and true Protector of the Realm." Again, he'd be short of breath, laying back as sweat coated his skin from the effort of speaking.

"Think it is enough Lord Stark. We'll iron out the closing formalities later." Geralt quickly pointed out. Glancing to Davos, he'd hand the board and paper to him. "Keep this safe for later. For now, you'd best be on deck and leading the crew. Lannisters may very well get organizing their own ships to give chase."

"Right. We may have a lead, but we're still fair distance from Dragonstone." Taking the board, he'd hurry for the door out, yet stop to turn back to Ned. "Lord Stark…may the Seven and Old Gods bless you…goodbye." He'd move out the open door, head turned away to hide the saddened look in his eyes.

Barristan remained for a long moment, a troubled look showing on his face. "It was an honor to serve you Lord Stark. I wish I had done more when I had a chance." He'd give a small sigh and bow his head slightly. "I should go see to the men and speak to them. Gods speed Lord Stark." With that he'd too leave, closing the door behind him.

There was a long moment of silence as Geralt stared at the doorway, before drifting his gaze to Eddard. Everything seemed settled…almost everything. There was a few questioned that nagged at the Witcher's mind, a promise he remembered being told months back on the cold peak of the Wall. "Ned. Any last things to say? Personal words for me to tell your family?"

"Aye…Bran…I only wish I could have brought justice for…what happened to him. I hope that…fate will find a way to do so. For Rickon…I wish I had been with him more…put my duties as a father first." He'd take a shallow breath.

"What of Jon?"

The name had Eddard's eyes open slightly more, some spark of energy filling him. He remained silent though.

"Right now, you had the chance to legitimize him in your final will. He may be a member of the Night's Watch, yet it would be the right thing for him."

Ned remained silent; eyes unblinking as he stared down the Witcher.

"And you promised him…you promised to tell him about his mother, the truth of it all."

Still silence, enough to frustrate even Geralt.

"Damn it Ned, just give me a reason why! He's your son as much as the others."

"Yes…but this isn't something I can simply tell you."

"Why? Anyone else I can understand, but you know I don't favor any ambition for power or gain. I know there is more to Jon then you let on, that is certain."

Eddard clenched his teeth tight, a painful look showing on his face. "It was a matter meant for him to hear…only him. I cannot say…"

"Because of honor? Our sense of honor has only gotten us all into the mess we're in! Honor isn't going to mean anything for you in the next few minutes."

"It is my choice Geralt. I swore to protect Jon…and dying will ensure that." Again, he'd have a strong fit of coughs and gasps, worse than ever before. Blood was now being coughed up more thickly, showing how bad the internal bleeding was now.

"No! Don't you dare die on me now Ned!" Geralt grasped one hand to steady the Lord's struggling, the man going into shock as his body was giving out. "You owe Jon an answer!"

Eddard's gaze met the Witcher's for a pained moment, look of true sadness and pain showing. It was an old pain though, one that had festered for decades and one that no one, not even Geralt had sensed. Whatever the truth about Jon was something much bigger and more dangerous then he thought.

"Not…the father…"

Anyone else wouldn't have heard these muttered words, but the Witcher's ears did as the slipped from Ned's lips.

"Not the father…"

Again, the words were muttered as Eddard slumped back, eyes closing as his wound and exhaustion was too great. Geralt felt the man's heart slow and flutter under his palm until it at last came to a stop. "Not the father…not Jon's father? Then who?" He'd step away from Eddard before tugging a sheet over the man, feeling right now conflicted over the last minutes spent with him. Instead of answers he had been given more questions. "Why Ned…what made you so stubborn about Jon?"

He'd gaze back at the bed for a long moment before sighing, head bowing as he'd turn to leave. He had to inform everyone of Lord Stark passing. It was no doubt going to be a long and mournful night.

…

Hours had passed as the remaining Loyalists had settled on board, the injured resting and being treated. Thoros and Beric had been badly wounded. The two were tougher than most and no doubt recover in time. The Red Priest of course demanded half a keg for himself, feeling he needed to drink in Ned's honor. It was a request no one argued against. Syrio had been keeping to himself ever since learned of Eddard's passing, perhaps feeling some guilt over not being able to protect him. The duelist had a strange sense of honor despite only serving Lord Stark as a teacher for his daughter, perhaps just a tradition he learned in Braavos.

By now the ship was far out into the vast Blackwater Bay, nightfall having at last come. There had been no signs of any ships giving chase. Everyone however remained on guard the whole time for any surprises. Davos said it take a few days to reach Dragonstone even with full sail, hopefully they'd have a speedy journey.

With everyone busy or resting, Geralt remained on edge even with the weak feeling his body had. Having picked out a stray bottle of rum for himself, he'd find a quiet spot on the ship deck and lean against the side gazing out at the dark waves around the ship. Taking a deep drink from his bottle, he'd glance at his left hand before looking to a nearby lantern that had gone out from the wind.

Flexing his fingers for an Igni, nothing happened, so he'd try again and again. The lantern remained dark. "Nothing…either I'm that tired…or the Source is truly dead for me…"

"Oh…not quite dead yet."

Geralt glanced to his right at the familiar voice of Gaunter O'Dimm, the merchant busy tightening up some ropes at the nearby mast. The Witcher was silent, an annoyed look showing on his face as he'd take another drink.

"Go away Gaunter. Not in the mood."

The trader sighed as he'd finish with the ropes, brushing his hands together before pacing over to stand beside the Witcher. "Surprised you aren't questioning how I'm even here."

The Witcher shrugged, seeming not to care for the moment.

"I'm here simply to help Geralt. As I said before I want you to succeed in this world…to give it the change it needs for the conflicts ahead."

His cat like eyes glanced coldly to Gaunter. "So, Ned's death was required? Excuse me if I find that to be bullshit."

The merchant sighed, yet kept that small smile. "You think too simply Witcher. Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon were always doomed from the start. Their fates were decided decades past. However, you changed the fates of many this day, from the people on this ship and those cowering in King's Landing."

"Changed how exactly?"

Suddenly Gaunter's index finger jabbed at the Witcher's forehead, a sharp pain snapping through his skull. "It is better that I show you." For a moment Geralt saw the man's more horrible form, a split second much like the time at the Crossroads. His vision changed though from the ship, rapid images flashing by of people he knew from his world.

He saw Arya dirtied and alone, suffering countless hardships and trials. There was too much to take in, yet he saw moment of her being a servant for Tywin in a ruined castle, traveling with Sandor and then training within a gray unknown temple. It then showed her within a godswood, Dragonfang in hand as a pale hand was strangling her. Lastly it showed her surrounded by fire and rumble, in a city facing complete ruin.

Next was Sansa. He'd see tempting in the throne room, dress ripped while surrounded by a crowd before it changed to her standing beside Littlefinger in a strange room with a strange opening that lead to open sky. Next showed her in a bed chamber with an unknown man, a man he sensed foul cruelty from as he'd reach out to caress her trembling cheek. Lastly, the vision shifting to her standing at the walls of Winterfell, dressed grandly as a hardening young noblewoman.

More visions followed as it showed Geralt's companions. He'd see Thoros dead from a mauling, laying on a rocky island on a frozen lake surrounding by the clawing dead.

Syrio laid dead in the training hall, Trant looming over the slain duelist with a bloodied blade.

Barristan laid dead in some shadowed alley, surrounding by a dozen corpses of masked men with knives.

Beric appeared as a scarred man, having seemingly doubled in age, wearing crude leather eyepatch over one eye. It then shift to show his bleeding body laying in a hall full of corpses, a calm expression on his face despite his wounds.

At that point the visions ended sharply, making Geralt drop down onto his hands and knees as his mind was reeling from what he saw. "So much…too much." He gasped before looking up to Gaunter, the man simply smiling down on him. "I can…barely remember it all…"

"Knowledge is a dangerous thing Geralt. To have you keep so much would be unhealth even for you." The merchant casually explained. "I can see all possible outcomes in everyone, the many futures that life offers. Yet now all their paths have changed far beyond anything I've ever seen in all my travels."

By now Geralt pulled himself onto his feet, bracing against the side of the ship. "Why does anyone else interest you? Is this just all some…play or show to you?"

Gaunter didn't answer, only giving that annoying smile of his. "All that aside Geralt, there is more pressing matters to discuss. Tonight, is a very special one after all." He'd point up into the eastward sky, drawing Geralt's attention to something he had over looked. In the starry sky was red streak, a red comet unlike anything he had ever seen before. "A new age is coming. All the pieces have fallen into place for an awakening on this stagnant world."

Geralt felt a strange feeling as he looked at the comet, sensing a strong power from it. Indeed, he'd feel his medallion rattle on it's chain, the most intense it had been since visiting the Wall. Yet this growing power wasn't solely coming from the comet, but from something far to the east. The nerves in his body had a sparking tingling going though it, the feeling much like when he mediated at a source of power. While the intensity was low at first, it was becoming stronger and stronger with each passing moment. "What…what is this?"

"This closest thing this isolated world will have to a Conjunction. The weak ember of Source is relighting at long last." Gaunter simply explained even as Geralt started to gasp out for breath, his body trembling as growing power was becoming too much for handle. "Ah yes…the sensation is a bit too intense for someone like you. Don't worry it won't kill you, though I'm curious how your body will handle this change."

By this point Geralt fell onto the deck, body shaking violently as his senses were overloading. Unlike others he could see the magical changes around him, color seemingly filling his surroundings even in the dark night and every scent in the air from the salty sea water and aged wood seemed twice as strong. His heart was beating faster as his adaptive body was trying to compensate the rush of power, making it feel like the organ was about to burst. Yet gazing up to the sky he saw something else streak through the sky like a falling star guided down into the eastward horizon.

"Ciri…"

And then everything went dark for Geralt, the last things he heard was Gaunter call out for help and the hurried steps of others nearing him.

…

Notice: Sorry for the long delay on this chapter rewrite. Been busy with work, sickness and personal matters. Also for those who don't know, Fan Raman has released their podcast episode featuring the Fury of the Melee chapter. Its fully voice acted, has sound effects and music at times, being pretty much an audiobook. So look them up on Youtube, Soundcloud or Itunes.