7th Month of 282 A.C. Riverlands

Eddard Stark

Grief was a shroud hanging over him, it was his constant companion. It was with him when he woke, it was with him when he went to sleep. Grief was his shadow, and he hated that. Guilt was there as well, guilt that he could not have been there when the news had come. He wondered why Brandon had not spoken with him, wondered why Brandon had gone off on his own, and he had allowed Ned to return to the Vale. Now father and Brandon were dead, gone, buried, and killed by the mad king. Anger grew inside of him, he would get revenge and he would find Lyanna. The banners had been called, Lord Hoster had agreed to allow Ned to come south, not marry Lady Catelyn who was heavily pregnant with Brandon's child, but to ally in a war against the throne. Ned was deeply nervous, so very nervous. War had been fought in the Stormlands, Robert was injured and being pursued. Ned looks at the men in the room with him, the war council.

Jon speaks. "We are facing a dangerous foe. Robert is injured, that is what our scouts say, and the reports are painting a bleak picture, unless we get there in time. Lord Hoster how soon might we hear back from your brother?"

Lord Hoster looks at Jon then and responds. "We shall be hearing back from him quite soon I think. I do not think it would take Brynden too long to deal with those fighting for the Targaryens."

"Good, that is very good." Jon says his voice soft. Ned looks at his mentor and wonders at that, there has been something odd about Jon recently, ever since he handed Ned that raven had come declaring his brother and father's deaths. His mentor looks at him then and says. "And what of you Ned, how are the northmen faring?"

Ned is surprised by the question but replies all the same. "They are ready and eager for war my lord. They know what their role will be when the fighting begins."

"Good. It should be Lord Connington leading the army. The Tyrells are I believe laying siege to Storm's End, alongside most of their bannermen. As such Robert will be struggling to gain men from those that might have served him." Jon responds.

Ned looks at Jon and asks. "Are they going to be getting men from elsewhere? The Targaryens I mean?"

His mentor looks at him and responds. "It is most likely. Connington will lead as hand of the king for the time being, and until there is someone to replace your father the main forces shall be kept within King's Landing."

Ned is surprised by the turn of this conversation. "Replace my father?" he asks. "Replace my father in what?"

Arryn looks at him surprised, as does Hoster. "You do not know?"

"Know what my lord?" Ned asks.

"You did not know that your father and the king were good friends?" Hoster asks.

"They were?" Ned asks surprised.

"Do you know of the Order of the Dragon?" Hoster asks.

Ned looks at Jon then, wondering what is going on. Jon does not respond though he merely keeps his face blank, leaving Ned trapped. "I had heard a rumour about something like that being set up when King Aegon the first was king, but not now, why?"

Before Hoster can respond, Jon speaks. "It is not relevant now, not for this war." the man gives a rather pointed look toward the Lord of Riverrun then, before turning back to Ned. "Tell me Ned which men do you think would be good with leading the assault in the first wave?"

Ned is surprised by the change in conversation. He considers the question and then responds. "I believe that Lord Umber might well wish for the first wave of attack, as might Denys. He has been hungry for action."

His mentor looks at him with some concentration then, to the extent that Ned begins to feel slightly discomfited by it. Eventually Jon says. "Very well, let us send them into the first wave. And what of the second? Lord Hoster do you have any thoughts on that matter?"

Before Lord Hoster can speak, there is a knock on the door and Ser Desmond Grell who had been off fighting with Ser Brynden walks in, covered in blood and shaking. "My liege," the man says falling down onto his knees. "I am sorry my liege, I tried everything I could but they were too strong and he would not move."

Lord Hoster looks at the man surprised. "What are you speaking of Desmond?"

The man looks at Lord Hoster with haunted eyes, and then turns his attention to Ned. "I could not stop it. They came from out of nowhere, they came with fire and steel and wind. A black hound and the Targaryen men, they fought us and they killed Ser Brynden."

Ned feels something akin to shock run through him, Ser Brynden dead? How is that possible, it could not be could it? Lord Hoster speaks then. "You are sure Brynden is dead?"

Grell turns back to look at his liege lord and nods. "Yes my lord, I am quite sure. He died before my eyes."

"How were you spared?" Ned asks.

Grell looks at him then and whispers. "The black hound did not wish me dead, wished for me to return here and to give a message."

"And what message was that?" Lord Hoster asks.

The knight looks between the three men and then says. "The darkness is rising, be alert for false friends."

Ned sees Hoster and Jon exchange a look, and he is not sure what that means, or why it makes him feel so nervous. "What is it?"

It is Jon who looks at him then. "We must leave now. Robert is in grave danger." With that he walks from the room dressed in armour.

Ned follows and in the rush that comes forgets to say goodbye to his goodsister that hangs heavy in his heart as he mounts his horse, and spurs his men on. The fighting is going to begin soon enough, they force march their men and their horses toward the Stoney Sept, where it is said Robert has been hiding- how unlike him- and when they arrive the fighting has begun. Ned feels his heart hammering within his chest, but he watches the first wave go into the city, and then he waits, and then when the time is right, he draws his sword and roars.

There is fierce fighting within the town, the bells are ringing, and those damned bells. The fight begins, Ned draws his sword, his heart hammering, blood pumping through his veins, and he swings his sword, acting as if he might fall without it there to anchor him in. He cuts through the chords holding the resistance within his body apart and begins once more. There are men coming toward him, he does not know where they come from, or who they fight for, but he raises his sword and cuts through them. The bells are tolling somewhere, within the town, he does not quite know where. Somewhere within the town Robert is doing something, what he is doing Ned does not know, but he is sure he will not like it. He takes a breath, and then pushes onward.

More men are coming toward him, his breath is coming out in short ragged bursts, pushing down on him, and it is coming from somewhere, the deep seeded doubt that is always nagging, always pulsating through him. Ned has never know where it has come from, but it has always been there, ever since he was a child, there had been something that had made him feel as though he was the lesser one, the lesser brother, the lesser everything. Ned fights that feeling now more so than ever, fighting has always been Brandon's forte, his brother long dead now. Gods it is still painful, the anger grows as well, and men come and men die. Through it all, his guards are there fighting alongside him, pushing through the narrow streets, bells chime and ring.

Out of nowhere, Robert is there, dressed in armour that makes him seem like a god, Ned mounted atop his horse watches in awe as his friend and brother in arms coming barrelling out of a tavern, a war hammer in hand. Ned watches as if time has gone still, his friend swings his hammer, through one man and then another. Something changes then, Robert is fighting far too quickly, is that a girl trailing out? Ned does not know, but he does not care, his friend is there alive and fighting. Ned pulls himself out of his reverie, and barks commands, and the fighting continues. His sword is red, all so red, one could be forgiven for thinking that his sword was naturally this colour.

Gods his arms hurt, his body hurts, and men are still coming near him, he has lost sight of Robert, of Jon, of Hoster, but he sees Denys, fighting the hand of the king in single combat, he watches transfixed as his friend falls before Connington, and dies a death, the redness of the road becoming one with the redness on Connington's sword. Anger, the emotion that has become his friend over the time since learning of his father and brother's deaths comes strongly then. Roaring, he charges at Connington ignoring the men before him, he charges, his horse falls, and he moves out of the way, avoiding being crushed, and rolls and then leaps and moves toward Connington.

Ned moves toward the man, his sword sweating, he is sweating, Connington moves toward him. Connington swings, Ned moves back, Ned moves forward and swings Connington moves backward. Ned follows swinging his sword all the while, determined to end the man who has taken another one of his friends. Connington moves backward, and forward, and backward and forward, Ned grows angry, he ducks and parries, and then when he senses an opening he lunges. Connington is weak, Denys had fought him long and hard. Ned makes full use of that, swinging his sword and feinting to the left and to the right. Connington makes a move to the side stabbing at Ned's side, Ned winces, but then moves backward, luring Connington into a trap. Connington dutifully follows, and Ned, Ned does not know what makes him do this, but he swings his sword wildly, in a move he had seen Brandon use long ago, he swings and swings, until blood spatters his face and there is a hand and a nose somewhere near him. He stands there breathing heavily, Connington lies in pieces before him. He roars for his men and then they continue.

He takes a moment to assess the situation, finds himself tired, and weary, not caring in the slightest, he advances on foot, determined to make the Targaryen men and soldiers pay for their wrongs done to him and his family. Lyanna's face filters before his mind, and as such anger fills him, somewhere she is somewhere, and he must find her. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he continues forward, pushing himself long and hard. There are men who are fought and slain, and there are men who escape. Somewhere, there is something happening somewhere, there always is. A desperation seizes him, the words Grell had whispered in the room come back, haunting him, he stands for a moment paralysed, unable to move, a black hound, there was one person who flew a black hound, who had a black hound, and they were dead. What could this mean, what could it mean? A black hound? It did not make sense, and then suddenly he hears a howl, a bone chilling howl, and he whispers one word, and one word alone.