Robert Baratheon could confidently claim to have never been frightened in his life; not when his parents died and he became the head of his house not long after reaching manhood, not when he saw what a wretched and pathetically unstable being the Mad King had become at the Tourney at Harrenhal, not even the day before the Trident when he caved in Rhaegar Targaryen's chest with his hammer. On that day, he hadn't even considered losing so fear did not worm it's way into his heart. But now, as he walked alongside Ned trying to talk him down, he was not ashamed to say he was legitimately terrified.
They'd returned to Winterfell in great spirits, having brought down two boars, five deer and a score of rabbits for the evening meal, only to find the place in utter chaos with guards and servants and smallfolk dashing in all directions. He'd had to bellow at the very top of his voice, which he hadn't done since challenging Rhaegar at the Trident, to focus their attention and then demanded answers. What had followed was a nearly hysterical woman informing them that Gregor Clegane had for reasons unknown, gone on a rampage and attempted to murder Ned's second son, killing eight Stark men-at-arms in the process before something in the godswood knocked him out. Ned had then dismounted his horse in one swift movement and dashed inside looking for Catelyn, who confirmed it twice over, the second time for Robert's benefit when he arrived huffing and puffing (by the gods, he'd gotten fat!). Ned had gone completely rigid, like the stone statues in the crypts, and the very air around him had gone cold before he stormed into his solar, ripped that massive Valyrian steel greatsword of his off the wall with enough force to rip the scabbard off it and stridden with doom-laden purpose in the direction of the outbuilding where Clegane was being held. Robert had never seen Ned move with such coldness and deliberation, and the fury blazing in his eyes was terrible to behold.
"Now, Ned. Ned! Maybe you should just stop and think about this for a moment.", he said.
He paused to wonder if he'd actually just said that, but Ned didn't even slow his pace.
"I took that monster in as a guest despite my feelings on him, and he repays that by trying to murder my son and killing eight of my own loyal men. I will take his head for this, and mount it in the great hall!"
Ned was holding Ice aloft with one hand, and his left one at that, showing how much strength his fury had lent him. As they approached the building, they saw something that made both of them swear profusely. The small contingent of Stark men were facing off a larger number of Lannister redcloaks, who were arranged menacingly around them but kept at bay by their spears, for now anyway. In front of the redcloaks was Queen Cersei, who was shrieking something in a very petulant and demanding tone.
"I am your Queen and I command you to stand aside!", she yelled.
"We are under orders from Lord and Lady Stark to keep-", began one of the Stark men
"I don't care what the he-wolf and she-wolf told you! You are holding a bannerman of House Lannister without warrant or charge, and I demand you release him or I will order my men to attack."
The Westerlands men behind her smirked and drew their swords, only for the smirks to shrink as the Northmen responded in kind. The redcloaks were used to people obeying them instantly rather than offering resistance, and the Stark men had the advantage of loyalty, stubbornness, familiar ground and longer reaching weapons. But Robert and Ned put paid to any bloodshed.
"STOP!", thundered Robert.
"Robert! There you are! These Northern savages have taken Ser Gregor and locked him up for nothing. Order them to release him!", shrieked Cersei.
"I will do not such thing!", Robert said.
"Then I shall write to Father and tell him of this. Holding one of his bannermen in prison for nothing is an act of war. He will call his men and march up here and raze this place from the fetid swamps to that stupid ice wall!"
Robert stared at her, wondering if she'd lost the plot, but it was Ned who silenced her by planting Ice's blade in a rock nearby; it split in half cleanly and the Lannisters balked.
"If you do, I hope you explain to your lord father that Ser Gregor is in custody for trying to murder my son, and killing eight of my men into the bargain. He has broken guest right as well, which is more than enough cause for me to march in there and cleave his head from his shoulders on the spot."
"You have no right to do that.", sneered the Lannister queen.
The Northmen gaped at her and even a couple of her own men exchanged bewildered looks; guest right was one of the most ancient and hallowed edicts in Westeros, and breaking it was considered unthinkable. That part was just about the only thing every religion agreed on, and it was said that to break guest right would bring down the combined wrath of every god who ever existed on your head. The circumstances of how the Mountain had been subdued, belted through the air by the tree of the Old Gods, had spread like wildfire and already the news would doubtless be spread on the winds by evensong to reach every corner of the continent. Perhaps it would bring a resurgence in the faith of the Old Gods, mused Ned. But now he raised Ice and held her, point in the ground.
"It is my sworn duty to uphold the laws and traditions of my forefathers. Ser Gregor has committed a terrible crime against my family and the North and must be made to pay, with his life in this case.", Ned said grimly.
"I don't care about your duties and your obligations.", Cersei said.
"Well, tough shit. This is the North, your Grace, and he falls under my jurisdiction unless the King decides otherwise."
"Robert! I demand you refuse this Northerner the right to execute a man of the Westerlands, my father's bannerman."
Robert glared at her contemptuously.
"Will I hell! That monster tried to murder a boy, the son of my brother-in-arms, no less! As far as I'm concerned, Ned can take his head and his arms and whatever else and if your father's got a problem with it, tell him to shit more of that gold he's so proud of until he can buy another one."
Cersei's face blanched and for a moment, it looked like she would indeed order her men to attack. Ned's fingers gripped Ice's hilt even harder and the Lannister men shifted uncomfortably; they knew what Valyrian steel could do. But she then relaxed and, with a visible effort, turned and made to walk away.
"This is not over!", she spat.
And she was gone, with the redcloaks hurriedly following. Ned turned to his own men.
"Is he awake yet?", he asked.
"No, Lord Stark.", one of them replied.
"Very well. Send word to me immediately when he does."
He then strode off with Robert back into the castle's walls, where he was accosted by Maester Luwin.
"Lord Stark!", he said.
"Ah, Luwin. What news?", Ned asked.
"Jory will live, my Lord. He took a very nasty blow and might not be able to use his left arm as well as he used to, but he will live."
Ned breathed a sigh of relief; Jory was a very good man and he'd been dreadfully worried.
"And Bran's wolf?", he asked.
"Injured, but recovering. His right leg is broken and will need time to heal, but he was never in dire straights."
That too was a relief; by all accounts the wolf had attacked Gregor savagely in an attempt to save his master, tearing a chunk out of his arm before being swatted aside.
"Where is Catelyn?", he asked.
"Lady Stark is in the godswood, my lord.", Luwin replied.
"The godswood?"
"Yes, my lord."
Ned was confused; Cat was a follower of the Southern gods, and by her own admission did not like the godswood as she felt unwelcome in it. But, sure enough, there she was in the godswood, and sitting beneath the weirwood no less. The old face had become slightly happier, returning to it's melancholy expression but with the corners of the mouth upturned as if preparing to smile. He was silent as he approached, so he witnessed Cat put her hand up and stroke the bark of the ancient tree, and hear her quiet murmurs.
"I'm not sure what to say. Ned tells me you aren't much for prayers and sermons and offerings, but I feel like I must do something. You saved my son, you saved him from that monster even though he was born from me and I have told him of my own gods. I won't pretend to understand you, but I will thank you. Thank you, for saving him."
Ned smiled; the Old Gods were not like the Seven, but he was sure they would appreciate the gesture. As it was, a sudden gust of wind sounded a bit like a sigh of pleasure as it blew through the branches overhead. He cleared his throat and Cat jumped.
"Oh! Ned! I was just, um…..", she said awkwardly.
"Talking to a tree?", he said with a smile.
"Well, yes.", she said, returning the smile.
They turned and observed the weirwood for a moment before returning to business.
"Did you do the deed, Ned?", Cat asked, her voice bitter.
"No. He's still unconscious and as much of a monster that he is, it is dishonourable to slay a sleeping beast, no matter how savage it is.", Ned said.
"I suppose. But I cannot restrain the feeling of taking that sword and cutting his head off myself."
"Wait. Now that I have a cooler head, I would hear from him the reason why he did this before I swing the sword."
"Bran says it's because he saw something, something he wasn't meant to see."
"What?"
There was a noise from the gate, and they turned to see Bran standing there with, of all people, Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer was not wearing his armour and white cloak, but had also dispensed with his usual arrogance that had so frustrated Ned before. In it's place was a kind of numb horror mixed with resignation; it was like he carried a huge burdening secret and had resolved to disclose it despite the cost to himself.
"I can tell you.", he said hoarsely.
Ned and Catelyn exchanged looks, then looked at Bran. He nodded.
"All of a sudden, Kingslayer, I am very very interested in what you have to say.", Ned said, advancing on him slowly.