(A/N: Sorry I haven't been writing for a while. My exams just finished last week and I've been putting off everything until I had gotten my test results back and I finally have so woo.)

Eddard

He paced around the chamber with his arms crossed behind his back, each man at the table was eyeing him with suspicion. There was something different today. Very different. "The small council" is what they called themselves, they managed small manners as mentioned in the name. Robert would entrust them with small matters as he himself was busy. "The Lords of small matters," as Petyr Baelish put it.

"Men of the small council," said Eddard, he was the Hand of the King now, he was also the kings proxy when he was absent or "busy," all his supposed business was was drinking and whoring.

"Hand," said Varys, he was the spider of the room, never to be trusted.

"My Lord," sneered Petyr Baelish in his usual snark tone.

Lord Renly raised a hand with a warm smile and a kind chuckle, "Ned... It's been too long."

"Indeed it has," said Ned with a smile.

Lastly came the mob doctor, or Grand Maester, Pycelle. He was an aged man that wore a thick grey cloak, a large, heavy, silver chain hung around his neck. He had served the former "king" Aerys of the underground and had been there for the rise, and fall, of his "kingdom."

"Eddard," said the old man, "it's a wondrous thing to see you here, to see you in Kingslanding, besides us, besides your king."

Ned huffed and waved curtly at the man giving a small, stressed smile. "Grand Maester... It is good to be here."

He had arrived in Kingslanding a month before and only now was he beginning to get settled. This day -of all days- had been particularly stressful, Ned was just thankful that the girls were gone. Arya had been of wandering, probably starting fights or playing in the mud, and Sansa was... Somewhere, probably with her boyfriend, Joffrey; Ned didn't like him that much.

Only now were preparations for the supposed Tourney of the Hand being set, "It's the kings gift to you, my Hand," said every member of the council, they all gave him a head ache.

"About the Hand's tourney...," said one of them.

"The Kings tourney, the Hand wants no part of it, that I can assure you," replied Ned, a deep crease forming in his brow.

The Hands tourney... The very thought of it made Ned chuckle. Robert apparently thought it a good thing to have an illegal poker tourney held in your honour. Ned, on the other hand, thought only bad things about it.

One by one they sighed until Ned looked at Petyr Baelish, not only one of the spiders, but also the treasurer. "How much will this tourney set us back?"

"40,000 gold dragons for first place, 20,000 for second, another 20,000 for third and finally, 10,000 gold dragons for the sod that comes fourth," Baelish chuckled, the lines in Ned's brow increased.

"Can we afford such a thing?" Asked Ned.

"We will have to borrow from the Lannisters, Hand, they will surely accommodate..."

"How much do we owe them?"

Petyr Baelish took in a deep breath and looked at Eddard, "3 million g-," Ned had cut him off, sending Petyr back deep into his seat.

"Are you telling me the crown is 3 million in debt?!"

"I'm telling you we are 6 million in debt," said Baelish.

"How could you let this happen?!"

"My Lord," cut in Varys, "things do cost money and we all do know how much Robert likes his things."

This made Renly chuckle his deep chuckle, "oh, yes, my brother loves many things..."

Ned was becoming frustrated now, very, very frustrated. All Starks were like that; quick temper, slow minds. Finally, Ned stepped back from the table, fuming, "if you gentleman will excuse me."

"Where are you going, Hand?" Asked Pycelle, he had been sitting there this hole time, watching with silence.

"To my room," said Eddard, "I'm too tired for this."

Ned fumed out of the door and the council watched him go, Petyr had a smirk on his face, a rather large one, and the rest of the council was gathering their books and assorted things that had been taken into the chamber. Ned had finally arrived at his room, no, it was more of a tower, really, yes, a tower. He walked in quickly, slumping down on his bed, and be knew, oh, he knew, that this was going to be a very long while serving as the Hand.

(I'm very sorry for any lack of quality in this story but as I've said in previous author notes, I'm just not up to it and I'm not feeling well mentally or physically, I will, however, be continuing with this story. Reads and reviews always welcome! xx Rachel.)