Wild Wolf

by Vimesenthusiast

Fed up with life in Nerima, Ranma runs away, only to be followed by Happosai, who has a magic scroll he want to try out. It works but Ranma suddenly finds himself in Westeros replacing the champion chosen by the old gods in a time of great peril for humanity. How will the world change with the Wild Wolf raised in the den of wolves? A lot. Thanks to Naj. P. Jackson for the picture.

8. Chapter 8

I do not own Ranma or ASoIaF. Damn pity, one would have a better female lead, the other would be done by now. Again, never gets old.

OH, a reviewer says he only finds the Ranma sections of this story interesting, sorry bud, but you are going to hate this chapter.

My thanks go out to Byakugan789 for being there to answer some of my questions and give me his opinion as well as for editing.

For those of you wondering, the next chapter of ATP will be out next week, but my muse was kicking me in the back of the head to get this chapter done, and some of the scenes in that did not come out the way they needed to.

Want to give a shout-out to serpentguy, for his story Nine Minutes. Was in a mood for One Piece, but the anime is going almost as slow as DBZ (just make a filler arc people, come on) and went back and reread it. It is so rare to find a good, lengthy One Piece story, especially one that doesn't get bogged down in East Blue, that isn't yaoi (far too fucking much of that in this genre!) Not my normal style, but the characters are well done, and Robin/Luffy is done perfectly. If anyone else knows a story that changes so much, and has Luffy/any girl but Hancock, that is written as well that is current, I would love to see it.

Now on with this oh so bloody show.

Chapter 8 How swiftly Comes the Avalanche

Daenerys woke up when the light shining through the small porthole set into the side of the room hit her face. She smiled, stretching luxuriantly for a moment, then winced as the wound in her side twanged, causing her to remember the events of the night before. Ignoring her injury she sat up quickly in the bed in Ranma's room, looking around wildly.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the two draklings. The cream colored one, whom Daenerys thought she might call Sunfyre, after one of the most gorgeous dragons to ever live, was curled up on a pillow right by her head. It was awake and snuffling at her hair, but still seemed a somewhat torpid. Fenris was laid out next to the bed with the other drakling, the green scaled one, still asleep on his back.

Once certain her little ones were safe, Daenerys looked down at the bed, frowning a little wondering how she had been moved. She remembered falling asleep against the direwolf's side the evening before after talking with Domeric and Ranma for a time until the last of the adrenaline left her and she slept the sleep of the exhausted. With that thought Daenerys lifted the sheets to look at her body, breathing a sigh of relief again at seeing she was still clothed in the overlarge shirt Ranma had given her.

With the important matters out of the way, Daenerys could concentrate on how she was actually feeling. I feel good, by the gods that was one of my best nights rest ever! Is that because I was so tired, or that I feel safe now for some reason?

She frowned however as she noticed two large stew bowls piled up with the first one from the night before. A soft voice spoke up from near the door, answering her unspoken query. "After we put you to bed the two little ones woke up hungry once each. Kind of reminded me of when my younger siblings were babies. All they did was sleep, eat, and well, you know."

Ranma had set himself up right in the small entranceway by the doorway. It was cramped, but he had slept in worse conditions, and this way no one could enter the room without first waking him up. Domeric was curled up with a few spare blankets in a hammock hung rather haphazardly on the back wall. He was still asleep, while Ranma had woken up quickly when he heard Daenerys moving around. Now he stood up, cracking his neck explosively before he smiled at her.

The Targaryen princess smiled back at him, somewhat whimsically. "I don't have any experience with children so I wouldn't know, but going from my readings about them that it is normal for my little ones." She laughed as the cream colored one crawled up into her lap. Thankfully she wasn't getting any sense of it being hungry at present, merely inquisitive, exploring it's environment. "Were you ever put in charge of your siblings when they were younger?"

"Oh yes, several times, especially little Arya. You'd like her I think. She's a wild girl, much more at home with a blade in her hand then a needle or paintbrush." Ranma moved over to the bed, patting Fenris on the head in passing as he explained the deal he had made so many years ago with his mother about Arya, causing Daenerys to laugh at how stubborn the girl was. He went on more seriously. "I know even with all you shared about him, it could not have been easy to leave your older brother."

"It was actually much easier than you might think to take that last step. I think it was simply the culmination of things, too many negative feelings and conflict, too much abuse. He wasn't Viserys my brother anymore, the years of having to fend for ourselves and his burning ambition changed him, and not for the better." Daenerys sighed faintly.

Ranma nodded then looked down at the green scaled dragon, which had woken up and was now looking at the space between Fenris' back and the bed as if calculating the distance. Ranma helped it along, picking it up underneath it's belly when it tried to jump, placing it on the foot of the bed. The drakling made a halfhearted attempt to bite him, but once again Ranma's ki toughening technique was more than up to the task of stopping its teeth from penetrating, something the little creature realized after only a few seconds of useless chewing. "Do you have any plans on how to train these little ones? And have you thought up names?"

"This one is Sunfyre." Daenerys replied, rubbing the head of the cream colored drakling who trilled a little under her caress. She had read that dragons often acted out or were capricious, but right now, she didn't see it. "And I think that the green one I'll name Rhaegon." She watched Ranma closely when she said this, but Ranma merely smiled.

"That might bother other people lady, but I have no issue with you showing respect for your brother like that. Until he kidnapped Lyanna there hadn't been even a hint of Rhaegar falling to the Targaryen madness. I have heard people saying he was a fine man, and a fine knight."

Daenerys smiled at that then frowned as his response highlighted something she needed to do. "I have to apologize for my attitude last night Lord Stark." she said formally. "I realize that without you I would never have escaped, and I was remarkably suspicious despite that. Yet even so, I cannot get over my fear over what will happen to me when we arrived in King's landing."

"Nothing will happen to you milady," Ranma said simply smiling a little. "And I didn't take it personally. I didn't exactly catch you at yer best, y'know?"

That actually won a small chuckle from Daenerys, though she also flushed slightly remembering how she had been practically naked when Ranma first arrived. Not noticing her flushed cheeks, Ranma went on more seriously. "I won't let you out of my sight until the King guarantees your safety, and even then I doubt I'll let you go far without at least some of my family's armsmen with you. Frankly I don't want us to spend much time in King's Landing at all. Just enough time to check in with my father, tell the King what we can about your brother, the magister and their plans, then move on to White Harbor."

That caused Daenerys's eyes to narrow. "You are truly worried about what might be happening on the Wall, aren't you? I do not know much about these White Walkers, but if they are the same as in the old legends, would they not need to wait for Winter to truly begin before launching any assault?"

"That's true, but they can act through their undead agents before that. Besides, we can train the little ones in safety in the North, without having to watch every shadow for strangers armed with nasty toys. And I'm worried about what might be happening in Westeros while I'm gone milady, not just on the Wall. You told me that you had heard about the power struggle between my family and the lions, well that barely scratches the surface. I won't tell you everything, but suffice it to say that my leaving King's Landing to find you was good for you Daenerys, but it might be just as bad for the family members I left behind there."

"And you think your presence could have that much effect? You are a good warrior Ranma Stark, but that good?" Here Daenerys was fishing for information. She had seen how Ranma dispatched the magister's guards, and he certainly seemed to have an amazing set of physical skills, but was that the entirety, or was that just scratching the surface?

"My presence might have kept the political confrontations from boiling over into physical ones at least." Ranma said with a shrug. "I expect that you will see more of my abilities as we go on, so you won't have to fish for information, Danny." He grinned at her, and she shook her head wryly, raising a finger like a Braavosi water dancer signaling a touch.

There was a moment of silence as they both wondered where to take the conversation. Before either could decide the draklings began to make noises, and Daenerys realized that they were hungry again.

Ranma laughed. "Definitely like little babies, though they make more noise than most of my siblings. Rickon was a little noisemaker though, always whining and wailing unless we were paying attention to him, or crawling around and eating things he shouldn't. Though that could be laid at Bran's feet too." He moved over to grab up the bowls from the draklings earlier feedings. "I'll be right back, wake Domeric up and lock the door behind me would you?"

"You don't trust the crewmen?" Daenerys asked, her eyes narrowing.

"They're not beholden to my family or Lord Manderly. This ship was chosen 'cause it was going in the right direction and the Master of Whispers had previous dealings with the captain. Not a comforting thought, especially since I was attacked on our first night out. Fenris," Ranma nodded his head over to the giant direwolf "dealt with them, so I don't know what was behind it, but still. And besides…" Here Ranma looked a little uncomfortable as he went on. "They're sailors and they've been away at sea for the past few weeks, despite our little stop in Pentos."

Daenerys flushed a little when she got that implication but nodded firmly. When Ranma left closing the door behind him Daenerys, wincing as her injury was disturbed by the movement, got out of bed.

She moved over to Domeric and woke him up, before moving over to the doorway to lock it. Domeric winced in turn, his injured shoulder paining him severely despite the work Ranma had done on it the evening before. Still, he held his sword in his ready hand just in case.

Now that they were alone Daenerys asked him. "Can we trust this Ranma Stark? I realize he's helped us, and I think I can trust his word, but how much control of over our fates will he really have when we arrive in King's landing? Surely his father would side with the King?"

"Not about your welfare Lady." Domeric answered promptly. "If Ranma realizes what is going on in the far North, then his father surely does as well, and that young man was correct, dragon fire was one of the best weapons against the forces of winter, when they could be caught in the open at any rate. I could wish that more information of the White Walker's had survived, but I can't remember anything but they liked to attack at night."

He went on in less grim tones as he watched Daenerys stroke the drakling's heads with gentle fingers. "Of course your little babes will have to age until their scales can keep their warmth inside before we take them to the Wall, but Ranma will understand that as well as we will."

"We haven't heard a hint of this from any of ours our spies, have we?" Daenerys asked, still looking for problems, though she was rapidly coming to the opinion that Ranma had played it as straight as he could with her. "Why wouldn't the Starks tell the king about this?"

"Proof." Domeric shrugged. "Robert doesn't even believe in the Seven really. From what I remember he only believes what he can see or touch, and if they didn't have hard evidence then the Lannisters at least would never be willing to send men up to aid along the wall. And even now, I doubt any of the other nations will send anyone to combat the King Beyond the Wall. Not with Robert's position on the throne so tenuous, they'll want to secure their own positions first."

He smiled thinly. "If the King really did try to send assassins after you, I don't doubt that his relationship with the Lord Stark has already taken a major blow. Lord Stark would never condone such a thing nor will he condone any attack on you while you are under his House's protection."

Daenerys nodded, but was really of two minds about that. She wanted to be in a position to secure her own protection, but until her dragons grew up, and possibly not even then, that was impossible. Still, it was better than being at her brother's mercy, or having to marry some Dothraki barbarian from the plains. And Ranma's a rather handsome fellow said a small, oft ignored, portion of her mind.

She shrugged that thought off quickly. Ranma's looks was not what she was interested in, it was whether or not he really could protect her from her enemies in Westeros that mattered.

But that was part of the problem, she realized. She wanted to like Ranma. For some reason, be it his smile or his general manner Ranma was simply a likable fellow, and Daenerys hadn't really dealt with likable fellows other than Domeric for quite some time. All of her instincts were screaming that there had to be something underneath that, yet she could detect no hint of it.

Daenerys decided to put it aside for now. The voyage to and from Westeros usually took two and a half weeks, depending on weather, so she had plenty of time to get to know Ranma, and to decide if he really could back up his claims. What Daenerys could do if she decided he couldn't however was a depressingly short list, nigh on empty really.

At her request Domeric exited the room, standing guard outside while she got dressed. Thankfully Fenris was able to watch the younglings as she did, and they were busy crawling around the room under his watchful eye. She wondered idly if there had been interactions between dragons and direwolves before that were this amicable, then simply enjoyed watching her little ones crawl around.

Their little wings seemed to be giving them issues, but they would work it out in time she was sure. Their ancestors have been doing it for millennia after all, she thought then frowned a little. Where did the magister find their eggs anyway? I doubt they were from my family, so where'd the eggs come from?

Her eyes close in pain as she remembered having to leave the third egg behind. No doubt her brother had already begun bonding with the dragon within. That will cause trouble in the future, I do not doubt. Though I wonder how they will get on together. My brother doesn't exactly have a caring personality, or much patience...

She shook that thought off, then picked up the knife that Domeric had left in the room for her, one of several from his collection. It was a stiletto, a thin blade about as long as her two fists put together with an equally small handle. She wondered where she should put it, then frowned looking at the remains of her skirt.

Daenerys was measuring the knife against her inner thigh, wondering if she should put it there when voice from behind her said "That is an idiotic place for a knife of that size. You'd never get at it quick enough if you wear a skirt, and you can't exactly hide it there if you wear leggings, unless they're really baggy, and you'd still be unable to get to it quick."

Daenerys turned quickly, cursing her beating heart which was pounding in her chest at the sudden shock, while the two dragons looked up from where they had been playing. To her chagrin however they were not responding to her sudden moment of distress, but the smell of the meat that Ranma, who was the one who had spoken, was holding in a large stew bowl.

He set it down in front of the little dragons, then turned to her with a smirk. "You should have remembered to lock the door after Domeric stepped out. I have some leggings if you wish to wear those instead of that skirt lady, I'm afraid it looks rather on its last legs."

Daenerys scowled a little realizing he was mocking her, but after a moment the scowl disappeared when she realized he wasn't doing it maliciously. "Where would you put the knife then? And yes, I think leggings would be best."

"That's not the kind of dagger you want to use as a holdout, it's too large, though the blade looks a good choice. It could be used even against someone in chain mail and could penetrate boiled leather easily enough if you're strong enough." Ranma said moving over to his sea chest. He pulled out a spare set of leggings tossing them over to Daenerys. "We'll probably have to take them in at the waist, but for now they'll do."

Daenerys held them up to her legs critically. "Length too. I am a bit shorter than you after all." Actually she was about two feet shorter, she was short for a woman and Ranma was somewhat tall for a man.

She looked up at a flash of white and reflexively caught the shirt Ranma just threw at her. "That's actually clean, I bet the shirt you're wearing still has the smell of smoke on it."

He looked over the draklings as they were trying to tip over the stew pot to get at the meat inside, smiling faintly. "I'll wait outside, knock on the door when you're done."

He came back in a moment later when she had finished, and showed her how to wear the knife all along her side, hidden slightly under the shirt but not so much as to be a true holdout dagger. Then he reached for his own belt buckle and pulled out from behind it a very tiny punch dagger almost palm sized but very sharp looking.

When Ranma passed it over to her, Daenerys noticed there was a very small loop at the end of the blade for her fingers, showing it was supposed to be held by two of her fingers rather than held in her hand,. "This is what a real holdout dagger should be like, small, very sharp, easy to hide. You can have this one. I think every lady should have one really, though where to put it on when you're wearing a dress without a belt, that I'll leave up to you."

Ranma smirked. "I even got my sister Sansa to agree to wear one, though I don't know if she still is. I hope she is, but…" shrugged.

I take it your other sister Arya didn't have to be talked into it? Did she complain it was too small?" Daenerys quipped.

"Yes actually." Ranma laughed, helping her to tuck the dagger under the belt buckle. The belt was now cinched tight as it could go, and the leggings were very still loose on Daenerys, while the shirt was quite tight. Something Ranma did not notice at all… "If Arya had her way she probably would clank whenever she moved."

Daenerys laughed again, and Ranma looked up at her face from where he had been finishing with her belt, only just now realizing how close their faces were. From Daenerys's startled expression she had just realized it too, and for a moment blue and purple eyes stared at one another from less than a few inches. Ranma moved back quickly then proceeded to tell Daenerys a story about Arya from when she began her training.

Shaking her head momentarily to get rid of that moment Daenerys moved over to the drakling. She gathered Sunfyre into her lap, reaching forward to pick out one of the pieces of meat from the pot, holding it up above his head with her other hand. Rhaegon pulled himself into her lap, making Daenerys grateful she had put on the leggings already.

Finishing his tale, Ranma looked at the two draklings, who were now eagerly taking the meat from both of Daenerys' hands. "Speaking of training, what are you going to do with those two?"

"I read every book I could get my hands on about dragons when I was younger, they were part of my heritage after all." Daenerys said flicking Rhaegon on the nose when it tried to take a bite out of the chunk she was holding out for Sunfyre. "None of that." she scolded. The suitably cowed drakling subsided, waiting its turn. "They are supposed to become as intelligent as animals can be later on, but we have to start imprinting with them now hence why I'm handling them like this."

Ranma hummed thoughtfully scratching at his ponytail for a moment. "Would you care for some advice?" He nodded over to Fenris who was watching the proceedings with an amused air, if Daenerys was guessing his expression correctly. The direwolf had an almost human ability to get his opinions across even without words, and a very wide range of expressions.

"I don't think there's much parallel there other than both species being predators." Daenerys said frowning for a moment as she turned her head to look at the dire wolf. "Exactly how intelligent is Fenris?"

Fenris huffed irritably, never liking being spoken about as if he wasn't there though he understood the upside to that as well. Feeling his irritation through their link, Ranma smirked. "Quite a bit more intelligent than most people think. Can I ask you to try something?"

Daenerys's eyebrows rose and she nodded her head slowly.

"Close your eyes, and…" Ranma pause thinking of how to explain this to someone who hadn't heard old Nan's ghost stories. "Think of one of the dragons, imagine it in your mind, then… sort of see if you can feel what it's feeling…"

Daenerys opened her eyes to look at him quizzically. "What exactly am I trying to do here?"

"You'll understand if you can get it, I'll explain after."

"I'll hold you to that." Daenerys said feeling rather fully should the moment. She could get some impressions of the dragons, but surely that was simply her projecting onto them, not a reality.

Still, Daenerys closed her eyes and did as requested. She concentrated on the Dragon she had named after her brother, Rhaegon, since he seemed to be a little more inquisitive than the other one. She got some feelings of hunger, muted somewhat now, and something else…

"Anticipation?" She said aloud looking over to the drakling who had rounded Fenris and was now about to leap onto the wolf's tale. Fenris however was well aware of the drakling's intention, and moved his tail quickly out of the way before flicking it back to smack the drakling in the face.

Rhaegon let out a squawk, then a huff of air as he tried to pounce again. Now Daenerys was getting feelings of enjoyment and pleasure. With a startled oath, she pulled her consciousness away. "Wh-what is going on?" she asked, stammering.

None of the books I read said anything about being able to feel a dragon's emotions! A few written by members of her own House had hinted at being able to understand their dragons, but there was a vast difference between that and being able to feel their emotions.

"That's what I was wondering." Ranma said nodding. "Have you ever heard of warging?" When she answered in the negative he explained what a warg was then said "I had wondered since I'd heard about the dragons of your family if that was one of their secrets. From what I remember from my history from old Valyria they couldn't use their dragons as well as your family could, and there were several riders that controlled their dragons like I'd expect a warg to be able to in the Dance of the Dragons war."

During his explanation Daenerys had gotten over her shock and was now on to more practical matters. "So this will help me train them quite a lot I would assume, how intelligent can they become with this connection between us?"

Ranma shrugged. "I don't know. Fenris is obviously much more intelligent than most of his breed, no offense Fenris." he said looking over the wolf who looked only a little mollified at that before he put his head down again to stare at where Rhaegon was still trying to pounce on his tail. Hunters these two were not, but they were young yet and could learn. "Whether that will be the case for dragons you'll have to discover, but I don't see any reason why they couldn't become just as intelligent in time."

"Again you have helped me Ranma Stark, thank you." Daenerys said smiling up at him happily. "Do you have any specific ideas for their training?"

"Well," Ranma laughed as Sunfyre scrambled up Daenerys's side to perch on one of her shoulders, hitting her in the face with a furled wing in the process. "First, we'll want to find a leather jerkin for you rather than my silk shirt. And I'd try to not let them get into the habit of doing that. Eventually they'll be much too large, and you don't want them trying it after they can nearly crush you under their weight."

He looked out through the porthole at the sun which was high in the sky by this point. "Let's go above, your draklings might like a chance to explore a larger area, and being cooped up in here can't be good for them or you. You still need some sun." He knelt down reaching out to touch the little mark on her above one eye that her brother had left her with a gentle finger. "You could use some sun too, though it won't do anything for that, I'm sorry to say. Pity I couldn't stay long enough to introduce your brother to my boot."

"I'd have liked to see that too." Daenerys murmured, shivering slightly under his touch. When he pulled back she grasped his hand and was pulled to her feet with Sunfyre still on her shoulder. Rhaegon clambered up on Fenris' back before the giant wolf stood up, following his master and the Dragon Lady.

The princess squinted as they came out onto the deck, noticing with amusement that most of the work around the deck had stopped as they came up, and nearly every sailor in sight was staring at her and her dragons. Domeric had followed them and noticing the same thing smiled faintly. "The shock value of my little ones is quite immense." she quipped, nodding over at Ranma. "They might eventually beat out your direwolf in that area."

"In a few years maybe." Ranma laughed, leading them along the deck. They moved to the back of the ship, where Sunfyre scrambled down from Daenerys's shoulder then down her leg to peer out through the railings down and the ocean.

"He won't try to jump will he?" Daenerys asked reaching forward for the little drakling.

"Call it milady," Ranma said touching her shoulder gently. "It's a perfect time to try out your ability to connect with them. Warn them away from the edge, send to them feelings of danger connected with the railing."

Daenerys looked over at him and Ranma smiled encouragingly. With a deep breath Daenerys reached out through her connection to the draklings, warning them, trying to tell them that the edge of the railing was dangerous. To her shock it seemed to work as both of them backed away slightly though they also seemed fascinated by the moving water far below.

Or Sunfyre did at any rate. Rhaegon lost interest after a few moments, and went back to Fenris. Realizing what the cub wanted, Fenris lazily began to move one of his front paws around. The drakling tried to pounce on it, a seeming smile on his tiny reptilian face as he made happy sounding warbling noises.

Daenerys laughed gaily, looking at both of them and pushing out a wave of affection, that was the only way she could describe it, towards the two draklings who both looked up at her before going back to what they had been doing. "I always hated reading about how dragons had to be chained down even when they were young. Growing up I realized it was simple fancy to think the chains weren't needed, but look! No chains necessary now!" Daenerys laughed again shaking her head.

She looked up however at Ranma who sat across from her leaning against Fenris's side as she was the railing, a sudden fear filling her. "Do you think you could reach out to them?"

"Maybe." Ranma said with a shrug. "I won't try without your permission of course. And I doubt I could get as much out of them as you could. They imprinted on you after all, and I already have Fenris."

"Well technically, they imprinted on me and Fenris." Daenerys laughed a relieved.

"How does it feel to be a mommy Fenris?" Ranma asked amused.

Daenerys laughed again when Fenris smacked him in the head with his fluffy tail. He turned back to Daenerys. "Now, in terms of specific training…"

That conversation went on for a while, the two of them exchanging ideas, with Daenerys gobbling up every idea she could about training from Ranma, though some of the specific training exercises wouldn't work. Yet by the end of the conversation Daenerys had a very good idea how she would be training her draklings.

From there the conversation segued into amusing moments from Ranma's own training with Fenris, as well as his own personal training and childhood. Daenerys replied with her own stories, of when she was younger and later on. When her stories turned darker Ranma replied with his own, telling Daenerys about when he met Domeric from his own point of view. They sat there throughout the rest of the day, simply getting to know one another, not even noticing the passage of time until the dragons began to whine once more for their dinner.

OOOOOOO

In King's Landing Ranma's father sighed faintly, putting his signature on yet another piece of paper the king really should have been taking care of. But given their relationship at present, Eddard couldn't really say that he was unsurprised that Robert had removed himself still further from the actual running of the kingdom. After Tyene's execution Robert and Eddard had once more fallen into frosty neutrality rather than the easy friendship they had once enjoyed.

Ned was firmly of the opinion that someone else had killed Tommen, that Tyene had no motive whatsoever to do it, and that she should not have been executed so quickly. He understood why the Queen had pushed for it, it was obvious a mother's grief had destroyed the queen's common sense. But Robert should've been able to keep his emotional distance. Finding who was really behind the plot was more important than persecuting the red herring, as Ned thought Tyene had been.

That didn't even take into consideration of how Dorne was going to react once they heard. Prince Doran might not be willing to do anything for the murder, and that was how those in Dorne would see it, of a bastard girl-child. Oberyn, the girl's father, was the leader of their armies, and if he reacted badly, the results could be another war even if Doran tried to do nothing.

But Robert didn't want to hear it, and Tyene had been put to death. Compounding matters further, after Tommen's death Robert had fallen into even worse drinking and whoring habits than before. Now he was barely in the keep at all for one day of every seven, spending his time hunting and whoring, away from responsibility and duty and trying to mitigate the damage the execution would do to their relationship with Dorne once Prince Doran received word of it. This had put the final nail in the coffin of Ned and Robert's friendship.

While their reactions differed, both royals had retreated entirely from the running of the kingdom, which, much as Ned wanted to say otherwise, was more surprising in the queen than the king. Cersei had slipped into a deep depression. She no longer took part in the Small Council, a pity considering that when Cersei spoke she had some good ideas. Nor did she take part in the court itself any longer, retreating entirely from her public persona. Cersei wore the black of mourning even now a week and a half later, with only a circlet of red and gold brocade to denote her family allegiance.

That dress had actually been made for Cersei by Sansa, who also wore more somber clothing these days. The two of them had become somewhat close since Tommen's death, with the queen almost leaning on Sansa as a friend in her time of grief. And to Ned's disgust, Joffrey and Sansa had become even closer. In fact he'd had to speak to Sansa rather sharply a few times about being seen with Joffrey without a chaperone other than one of the Kingsguard.

Myrcella too was grieving her younger brother's death. She had practically moved into the tower, bunking in Ranma's room. Yet for some reason Ned thought there might be more to it than merely wanting to be in a place where she had only happy memories of her brother like the Tower. No, there was something else there but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Still, Ned was happy to add her to the tower's security, which he had tightened after Tommen's death, no servants save those brought down from Winterfell were allowed in anymore, not even under guard. The Tower's foodstuffs were also under 24/7 security.

In the court, reactions from both the death of Tyene and murder of Tommen were extremely varied, though none of them were good for Eddard or his people. There was a portion of the court that was as sad as Ned and the two royals, having seen the possibility of Tommen being named as heir over Joffrey as an extremely good thing in the long run. Now they were very worried, but not enough to join forces with the Starks. Many of them had simply left the city entirely, which weakened House Stark's position in King's Landing.

Others in the court seemed to be of the opinion that the poison had been meant for Joffrey, though where that rumor came from Ned didn't know, much like the idea he was an ineffective Hand. This group seemed to think that it was a prelude to open war pitting the Targaryens and their Dornish allies against the rest of Westeros, an idea that had no basis in reality as far as Ned could see. But that didn't seem to matter much to the courtiers who believed it. Worse, all of them felt that Eddard was simply unwilling to do what needed to be done to protect the peace of the realm.

There was a third faction, small but vitriolic in assaulting Eddard for allowing Tyene access to the Red Keep, pointing the finger at him saying it had been simply part of a plot to gain him the throne. This group had no evidence or even logic on their side, yet that didn't seem to matter to them.

A fourth faction, the queen's, had rallied around her in her grief, and hatred of the king for how he was 'handling' his own grief made them almost rabidly anti-Baratheon. Joffrey was often connected to this faction, yet had come off as more of a moderating influence between all the different cliques, the boy showing himself in as good a light as he could. This wasn't all that good for those who knew him, but many of the courtiers were unable to look beyond his public persona to see if there was any depth there.

Renly had lost much of his own backers to the first two camps, and now was almost as isolated as Ned, and Renly knew it. Loras' recent arrival with thirty armsmen had been a godsend for him, bolstering his security force by half again.

Eddard sighed, stretching his muscles thinking hard, wondering who really had been behind Tommen's murder, and what their next moves would be. If they had wanted to disorganize the court further, they should have followed up with something other than these rumors. Rumors will die down, and grief will fade, their window of opportunity to capitalize on Tommen's death is disappearing. Unless it was really to put someone close to Joffrey in order to influence him, as the queen thought, Robert's belief this was done to somehow help Dorne's princess to marry Joffrey is so much hot air. But who could it be?

Enough for now, Eddard thought, standing up from his desk. Time to get some exercise.

OOOOOOO

Unbeknownst to Eddard, Petyr, Varys and Pyrcelle were the sources of many of his present problems. Varys had decided the Starks no longer represented long term stability in the kingdom and had subtly spread around the idea that Ned should be held accountable for what had occurred to Tommen. Not because he was connected to the actual murder, that would never stick given how everyone knew how honorable Lord Stark was and he had no clear motive. But Eddard could be painted as too trusting to be an effective Hand because he had allowed Tyene, a mistress of poisons, to have access to the keep.

For his part, Pyrcelle was fanning the flames Eddard's campaign against corruption had brought him, while also keeping the court faction that wanted to pin him as the mind behind Tommen's death boiling nicely. That was difficult since anyone with half a brain could see it was simply untrue. Still, he had gathered eleven other noble houses to the Lannister cause, adding another hundred and fifty men and fifteen knights to their forces, which would be useful when the conflict became open warfare.

Outside the court, Petyr was readying his mercenaries. That was difficult, considering how spread out through the city they were, and how many contacts Brynden had made in the city. The clandestine warfare had heated up in the back alleys, with Petyr's, Brynden's, House Lannister's and agents of the Master of Whispers ambushing one another nightly. Bodies were beginning to be found even in the richer districts.

Surprising Pyrcelle, Varys and Petyr, Ned had done a good enough job in clearing out the corruption of the Gold Cloaks that many of them had begun to actually work to keep the peace rather than keeping the smallfolk down. They were keeping the violence from boiling over into the daytime, but everyone with a working brain could tell that someone was moving against the Starks. No one could prove it yet, but it was there and everyone was walking on tenterhooks.

Alayaya was no exception to this rule. She rarely left her mother's brothel now, even to meet her friends. Instead she asked them to come see her, not wanting to be out on the streets. She had heard a rumor that someone had realized she was passing information on to the Hand, and with the city the way it was right now that was almost a certain death sentence unless you had men to protect you, which she didn't.

Today however she had been forced to head out, accompanied by one of the brothel's guards. One of her friends had some information she wanted to pass on, and the importance of that information had forced Alayaya out to meet with her when the friend couldn't get away from work. This way was saying she was a veritable slave to her pimp, but at least the man in question treated her reasonably well despite not letting her go anywhere without him.

The information was worth it though. It turned out that the whore in question worked in a whorehouse where two suspicious men with Lannisport accents frequented. One of them had a very expensive crossbow that he never let out of his sight, and was now wearing the colors of Master Pyrcelle. The other had begun to show up wearing the tabard of a gold cloak. The men had no obvious connection, but they always made time to talk after doing their business with the house, and always arrived at nearly the same time.

Dixie, Alayaya's friend, had gone even further. She was able to give the Summer Islands girl a description of the one who was now working with the Grand Master. This made the trip to see her a very profitable one, yet very dangerous as Alayaya found out on the way back to her brother's establishment.

The black woman had been walking along, her guard at her side when she looked up, frowning as she noticed that the guard had stopped. Looking forward Alayaya saw two men step out of an alleyway, barring their path, both wielding heavy cudgels, the crowd flowing naturally around them. She backed away quickly putting two houses between them when she realized they were looking at her over the heads of several other people, while all around them the crowd began to fade away quickly.

She looked up over at her guard, one of the six bouncers that her mother employed, only to see him backing away his hands held up non-threateningly.

Before Alayaya could process this sudden betrayal, two more men appeared behind her, gleams of steel in their hands. She looked around wildly, trying to see a way out of this. The courtesan was about to bolt towards a nearby alleyway, not really having any hope of reaching it before she was caught when there was a shout from the end of the street. "Ho there!"

The men turned, seeing seven men in Riverrun colors hurrying towards them, swords out. One of the men with knives reached for Alayaya even so, but she ducked underneath his arm, racing towards the newcomers. The two knife wilders tried to catch up to her, but six more men from Riverrun came out of another alleyway nearby cutting them off and cutting them down before they could retreat.

The bouncer and the two men with cudgels gave one look at this reversal of fortune and legged it away through the nearest alleyways. The men of Riverrun did not pursue.

Alayaya gasped, going to her knees as the nearness of her escape hit her in front of the men from Riverrun. "Th-thank you all! If you hadn't arrived when you did I…"

"Lord Blackfish sent us um, lady." said the one hesitating on the 'lady' part there. He knew Alayaya's profession after all. But still the information she had passed on had been of immense value, and Brynden wasn't one to let those who helped him and his family die if he could help it. "We received word from one of our other agents that you were going to be attacked. I'm afraid it might not be wise for you to return to your mother's… establishment.."

"Seeing they bought one of our bouncers, I agree. I'll send her a message, if that is alright, but where will do you think I should go instead?"

"We have orders to take you to the Hand's Tower lady, you can work as a servant there to pay your way for now."

Alayaya frowned, not having much training in that area but she supposed she could cook at least, or wait on one of the other ladies. That wouldn't take much training after all, since she knew about fashion at least and could sew very well. But it would remove her from most of her own contacts throughout the city, and from where she learned most of her information at her mother's whorehouse. Still, Alayaya thought philosophically, I'll be safe there, and maybe I can get to the bottom of a minor mystery of my own. Who exactly is the Rock Hurler?

Alayaya found herself being escorted directly to the Tower in the Red Keep, not even pausing in the outer areas of the keep. She was ushered immediately up through the castle to what she was told was the family area.

There she didn't find Lord Stark or even Lord Tully waiting for her, but a young blonde-haired girl who looked like she had been crying hard for many days pouring over a book. "Are you all right?"" she asked immediately looking at the young girl. Crying was something all whores did on many occasions, and they were always helpful to one another in times of distress, the good ones at least.

Myrcella looked up from her book startled by the unknown voice invading this safe area, and frowned as she saw the black woman and the clothing she was wearing. The princess easily recognized what this woman was, and her presence in the Tower angered her. Yet the expression on the black woman's face was merely concerned, so she answered the question calmly enough. "I'm well I suppose, simply dealing with my grief at my brother's passing if you must know."

Across from her Alayaya gasped, finally realizing who this young girl was and kicking herself mentally. The clothing should've given you a clue you idiot. She curtsied quickly, showing all the poise and control that her mother had drilled into her as one of her highest earners. "I apologize for not recognizing you at once your grace, you have my sincere condolences about the death of your younger brother."

"Thank you." Merry said rather stiffly, looking at her then up at the men from Winterfell who had escorted her up the Tower. "Might I ask why she is here?"

They exchanged glances but Alayaya answered first. "I'm one of the Hand's informers in the city. Unfortunately, someone else found out about me, and I only escaped with my life thanks to Lord Blackfish sending some of his men to help me."

"I'm just glad they got there in time." said Brynden, coming out from the Hands office with Eddard. "The information you've passed on to us as always been good. I only regret the fact they found you out will prevent you from passing along more."

"I was able to find out something right before the attack came my Lord." Alayaya said quickly, curtsying deeply to both men then glanced over at Myrcella. Ned understood the glance and waved her into the office.

Behind them Myrcella stood staring at the closed door with a scowl on her face. "If you keep on scowling like that your face will stick in that position you know." Brynden said smiling faintly at the young girl. Though at 12, and having had her first cycle a few weeks ago, she was now technically a woman, able to be wed. Still, to Brynden at least she was just a young girl.

Myrcella huffed a little, but didn't bother to take any umbrage at the older man's familiarity. He was much like Ranma in that area, the more he knew someone the more familiar he was with them. "I can't say I approve of her profession." she said coldly.

"Nor should you." Brynden said smiling faintly. "I imagine that your father being the way he is that reaction is even more understandable. However you shouldn't hold her profession against her. Alayaya's mother was a whore before becoming the mistress of her own whorehouse, you could say Alayaya was born into it. And with what little interaction with her I've had, I've discovered that there is a very gentle, true soul underneath that exterior."

Myrcella huffed again but nodded. "I'll try not to hold it against her."

"Are you returning to the holdfast tonight milady?" Brynden asked, changing the subject, watching Myrcella's face closely.

Myrcella shook her head violently. "No, I would rather stay here. Am I… am I imposing?"

"Not to me." Brynden said looking at her with that keen gaze of his, causing Myrcella to look away. "I'm just curious. You're here even more often than Sansa these days, and many times when she is not here to spend time with you."

"I feel safer here." Myrcella replied shortly, hoping Brynden would simply drop the subject. It wasn't as if she could prove her beliefs after all.

"I can understand that, but why would you feel not safe in the holdfast? According to your mother at least the poisoner has already been found, and I know that Grandmaster Pyrcelle has ordered his acolytes to okay every dish the comes out of the kitchens."

"I don't have an opinion on my mother's belief in Tyene's guilt, and even if she's right, the mind behind it is still out there. Who knows what else they might be able to do, if poison is no longer a weapon they can use." Myrcella said getting up quickly. "Now if you'll excuse me Lord Tully, I wish to go see if Sansa is free."

By free she meant no longer waiting on Joffrey, but that wasn't something Brynden would call her on. He exchanged glances with Ser Oakheart who had remained in the corner since Myrcella had arrived earlier that afternoon. The Kingsguard member returned Brenden's glance blandly, not giving any hint of his own thoughts as was proper. He bowed his head slightly been moved to followed Merry down the stairs.

With a sigh, Brynden moved to join Ned in his office.

OOOOOOO

Unfortunately for Myrcella, Sansa was still with Joffrey in one of the sitting areas of the holdfast working on a painting as he told her about some of the royal family's holdings in the crownlands. Even more unfortunately for the golden haired princess, she couldn't then bow back out graciously when Sansa asked her to join them, not having a readymade excuse. She was forced to stay and listen to Sansa simper at her brother for the next hour. Really, I do love Sansa, but it's as if being around Joffrey destroys her ability to think clearly.

Her own problem with her brother of course wasn't based on gushy feelings. She watched him constantly, looking for any sign of his vicious streak coming out, but with Sansa around there was no sign of it. Yet even being in his presence like this was making that moment when she saw his smile burn in her mind. For the first time in her life she was feeling the sort of Baratheon fury that her father had shown a time or two, or perhaps her mother's lioness like rage. So when Sansa excused herself to prepare for lunch, with septa Mordane following, Myrcella couldn't stop herself from blurting out. "You killed our brother didn't you?"

Joffrey looked at Myrcella in surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about, dear sister."

"I saw that smirk on your face when Tommy was lying there, dying." Myrcella said, finding courage somewhere inside to confront her tormenter, her fists shaking in fury. "You were happy! You somehow knew that he was going to be named heir over you, and you couldn't stand it, could you!"

That touched a nerve and Joffrey's mask fell away as if it had never been. "I am the heir!" he shouted, no shrieked, standing up and stalking over to her. "The crown is mine! Mine by right! I am the eldest, it falls to me! Tommy had no right to it!"

"And so you poisoned him." Myrcella growled, sounding like the lion of her mother's family banner, standing up as well.

"Ah, but there's no proof of that, Myrcella." Said Joffrey now close enough. His hand lashed out, catching Myrcella by the throat and almost lifting her off the floor. "And I would keep that close to your heart if I were you." He breathed pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. Merry tried to fight back, but she was no Tommy, she hadn't trained and lacked the strength to push him away. "If I can kill one sibling, what makes you think I would balk at two?"

Myrcella spat in his eye, rage still overriding her fear despite the hand around her throat.

Her older brother raised his free hand to wipe away the spit from his eye, then raised it again in a fist.

A knock on the door behind him however halted that, and the door opened to reveal Ser Oakheart. Joffrey quickly moved away from his sister. "Such accusations," he said coolly now. "Are dangerous, you'd best to remember that." With a final sneer at his sister, Joffrey stalked out.

OOOOOOO

"I disagree," Ranma said, smiling slightly across at Daenerys while she tossed a small chunk of wood rounded to look like a ball toward the two draklings, then commanded Sunfyre mentally to go and get it before passing it to Rhaegon. "I think your ancestor's decision to create the position of the Hand was one of the things that weakened the royal family. It created an almost separate power structure. While technically answering to the king, the Hand truly wielded more power when the king wasn't strong enough to take it back."

"That's nonsense." Daenerys scoffed, waving one hand. "All power resides in the King, that's the entire point of a monarchy. The position of Hand was simply there to well…" she blushed. "Shovel the shit."

"Power might come from the king, but power is not the same as responsibility. One of the things that has bothered me the most since coming south was how little work the King actually did. I watched my father going gray from the moment we set foot in King's Landing. And if the king it is not responsible for anything, what kind of King is he really? How many poor Kings have there been, because they didn't have any understanding of power meaning great responsibility?"

Daenerys paused before replying, smiling at Rhaegon who had just trotted up with the little ball Domeric had made them. The draklings loved the games that she had developed for them, and they were becoming better and better at responding to her mental commands. For more serious ones she still had to verbally command them however.

For instance, she had to stop them from attacking one of the sailors who had rather stupidly come into the room to stare at them. Or her, his babblings afterwords were not exactly coherent. They responded best to Valyrian commands of course, though the reasoning behind that wasn't one she understood, since they certainly couldn't have ever heard the language before. But it was good from her perspective considering she couldn't accidentally give them a command in common conversation while around them.

That would be… bad. Despite the fact that Ranma seemed immune to their bites, the dragons showed all of the normal irritation at non-Targaryen Dynasty members that always marked the breed. They had stopped trying to bite Ranma, but Domeric still had to be wary around them. Yet even so, Sunfyre and Rhaegon were much more docile then young dragons normally were, at least according to the books Daenerys had read. Not once had Daenerys had any inclination to chain them up, which had been of course the norm for millennia.

After throwing the ball again, this time over to Fenris to bat around for the two youngsters, she turned her attention back to her and Ranma's conversation, frowning thoughtfully. "I'll concede that the Hand concept was flawed. It needed to have severe checks on its power, especially since the Hand often came from powerful families on their own. The Crownlands alone can't raise an army the equal of even the Stormlands, and its economy isn't as rich as Westerlands, nor as robust as the Reach."

She paused thoughtfully, looking at the two draklings. "I think that was a major issue after the dragons disappeared, without them my family didn't have enough power in themselves, which forced them to woo already existing power structures. Still, even taking away physical force, the king definitely needs to have a set of duties that only he, or she" She smiled, thinly, yet whimsically, making Ranma's lips twitch in turn. "Can perform, certain powers that only the king can use."

"Okay," Ranma said agreeably, "Like what?"

"The power to make war for certain. The power to make new laws is a possibility, so long as they affect all of Westeros rather than groups of individuals or different nations within it. The powers of the central government needs to be larger than each of the disparate parts, or perhaps all the Lord's Paramount tied into the power of the whole, rather than just one or two through blood and honor. I am uncertain how that could be done right now, but it's something to think about."

Ranma nodded thoughtfully. This discussion had started when Ranma described the work his father had been doing as Hand, and Daenerys had simply said that much of that was unimportant work that the king didn't need to spend time dealing with, which Ranma had disagreed with. His arguments had carried the day for the most, but Daenerys had argued him down on several points. This made Ranma realize that someone was forcing his father to do work that one of the other small council member's should've been doing.

For now there was nothing he could do about that, so he simply concentrated on the current discussion. "I understand your point about needing to centralize more power and how the dragon's disappearance had damaged the power structure. For the rest though, you're talking about sitting down and creating some kind of charter. I don't think that's ever actually been done, not in Westeros anyway. That would take a lot of work."

"Have I ever said or done anything over the past few days to indicate that I am scared of hard work?" Daenerys asked, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with a smile.

It was a week and a half since they had left three city behind them, and the two young people had grown close over that time, bonding over the draklings' training, and simply being two young people with no one but themselves to talk to. Domeric spent most of his time either watching the dragons with them, or sleeping. His shoulder wound had almost gone bad, saved only because Fenris had noticed the smell. Ranma cleaned it out, but Domeric was still weak from the procedure, though he would eventually regain full use of that arm.

Unfortunately, the weather had been against them. They were only just now reaching what the captain, an experienced man who had plied this route for most of his life, could tell was the halfway point between Pentos and the start of the Blackwater Bay. They had been becalmed three times, and hit heavy storms twice. Several of the sailors had been muttering about it. A few of them had even mentioned that it was because they had the Targaryen princess aboard, that the Seven weren't in favor of her returning to Westeros.

Ranma's presence stopped them from even attempting to do anything about it, but their fellow crewmen would have stopped them in any event. Besides the draklings, Daenerys possessed the ability to draw others to her, charisma on a level few could match, and a caring nature that shown through to everyone who interacted with her. While Ranma had not been in the right mind for this entire mission to bother, she had charmed nearly the entire crew, turning them all into Targaryen loyalists.

To one side Domeric sat watching the two young people, a faint smile one on his face. He wondered if the two of them realized how obvious their attraction was to anyone who saw them. It wasn't just lust, he could tell that simply by the amount of time they spent talking rather than simply looking out of the corners of their eyes at one another and sighing like star-crossed lovers from some of his songs. No, their attraction was built on how alike they were in many ways rather than anything physical. Though, he laughed to himself quietly as Daenerys flushed watching Ranma stretch, his shirt riding up to reveal a chiseled stomach. The physical obviously doesn't hurt.

Domeric was worried about the future however. He was worried what about what would happen when they returned to King's Landing, he knew it would not go as well as Ranma hoped. Oh, Ranma would certainly keep his word, but how much could he do in the face of royal displeasure? It was an area Domeric was deeply concerned about. But right now, as he watched Daenerys laughing while Ranma used one of his hands to wrestle with Rhaegon, while the other drakling looked on from his seat on Fenris' back, Domeric couldn't hold onto his concerns. With these two allied to one another, they might just be able to do anything…

OOOOOOO

Five days after Alayaya's rescue Ned sat once again in his chair in his office, rolling a small message tube in his fingers. Part of him had been anticipating what it could contain for weeks, the rest of him was dreading it. "Thank you Adam. Could you find a messenger to send to Brynden, I want to speak to him immediately. Are my daughter and the princess in the tower at present?"

"I believe so my Lord, they are down in the dining hall with Alayaya working on some tapestry or other." Ser Willowtree shrugged, smiling slightly at his lord's use of his first name. He doubted very many lords would know let alone be willing to use their guardsmen's first names, but the Starks had always been closer to their men than most.

Ned smiled faintly despite his present concerns. Alayaya had fit in well in the tower, joining Jeyne in waiting on his daughter and Myrcella when she was in the tower. Alayaya's mother had protested the girl being in the tower rather than working for her, but it was only a token one. She knew that if the brothel was attacked she could not protect her daughter, and it would be disloyal to her other girls to even try.

Knowing what his wife would to do him if she ever found out, Ned had refused to pay for the girl's services from his own pocket as if she were still working as a courtesan, instead putting her on the tower's payroll as an actual servant. She had some problem with a few of the guards, but Eddard had made it known that she was no longer a 'working woman', and that if she wanted to sleep with someone it was now her choice.

Half an hour after Willowtree left Brynden arrived. He was wearing the armor of a common Riverrun man-at-arms, and was wearing a cloak with a hood on his back. He also seemed to be somewhat soot-stained as he came in and when he dropped the cloak on to a nearby chair it puffed slightly as the ash covering it dissipated in the air.

"There was a fire in the city, a very suspicious fire one that almost spread to the Mountain Honey. Thankfully we were able to stop it. We still lost four men though, one informer and three of my men from Riverrun after the fire began. Someone thought it a good idea to hurl bricks at us when we began to fight the fire. We caught about ten of them and the crowd tore them to pieces. This 'game' is becoming increasingly deadly." Brynden growled.

Ned frowned a little, but really didn't have much of a problem with that. Yes it would've been better if they had gone to trial, where he could have tried to get them to confess to who was giving them orders. But if they had been caught in the act of attacking someone who was putting out a fire in the city, they would've been tortured beforehand by the Gold cloaks in any event unless he put his own men to guard them and there was no way he was going to spread his forces even more thinly. A fear of out of control fires was the one thing that every person living in King's Landing had in common.

"I see." He said simply, before holding up the message. "This arrived a few hours ago, so this conflict might be about to get even worse."

Brynden moved swiftly back to the door, opening it to find Sir Jory already taking position there. He nodded at the man before returning closing and locking the door behind him. "I take it that's not from Winterfell, it's a reply to your message that you sent with Lord Mallister? You took a risk there, I hope it paid off."

"I trust Jason enough not to let his curiosity get the better of him." Ned replied dryly. "And I assume that its presence here and wearing the mark of Winterfell rather than the Citadel is a sign that it has, for better or worse."

Brynden pulled up a chair as Ned opened the container at last, pulling out the message which was written in an unfamiliar hand. Yet the writing was small and very detailed, citing births and some other information to back up the writer's answer. That answer was exactly what Ned had long feared. "Baratheon colors are almost always dominant when they marry other lines. Four times Lannister and Baratheon have married, and in over a dozen children not one has been golden haired. The seed is strong indeed." Ned murmured, remembering what the last words of John Aryn had been according to Robert. "This coupled with all of Robert's bastards looking so much like him, you know what this means."

"I would not have thought it of the Queen." Brynden replied honestly. "That there is little love between her and the king is obvious, but to actually break her own marriage vows, despite the way he has? To pass off her own bastards as legitimate? This has the potential to rip Westeros apart."

He cocked his head, looking at Ned. "If Tommen was still alive, what would you do?"

Ned winced. "You do not ask a simple question. The boy had potential whoever his real father might have been, and who knows, he could have been the first trueborn without Baratheon features…" He said before falling silent.

The fact was Eddard really didn't know what he would've done. This had the potential plunge Westeros into civil war again. Would he have felt duty force his hand anyway, even if Tommen had been named heir, or would he have kept silent, knowing Tommen would make a good king and the tremendous amount of damage to the country coming out about it would have done. "And even now it might well be disastrous, especially to Myrcella."

He said that last aloud, and it was Brynden's turn to wince. While he hadn't become nearly as close to the girl as Ranma, both the older men had come to like the young princess, seeing in her many of the good qualities Cersei possessed, with none of the bad. Of course she was young yet, she could develop those bad qualities, but there was no sight of them yet. "I do not envy you having to tell her," he said honestly. "Would you be open to suggestions?"

"Of course." Ned replied looking a little lost. Despite his concerns about Joffrey, he hadn't truly anticipated that all three of the queen's children might not be legitimate. Stop that he ordered himself sternly. They are illegitimate. The records do not lie, nor does the fact that Robert's bastards all have the same features as he does, while none of Cersei's children have anything physicallyto show they are related to him. Just because the truth is unpalatable does not change it.

"I suggest that you consult with Renly. He might have some good ideas, and certainly would help to break it to the king in such a way that he will believe it more than coming from just you." The fact Ned and Robert were no longer close was well known. Robert's desire to send an assassin after the young Targaryen girl, his agreeing to force Ranma to go instead, his refusal to do the work of a king, the travesty of justice that was Tyene's death, it had all added up. "We should also prepare our forces for open combat."

Ned glanced at him in surprise and Brynden shook his head. "Think about it man! Whatever else once we confront her, Cersei will no longer be the Queen! Robert will have no choice but to set her aside with cause, something that neither she nor the other Lannister supporters in the city may be willing to tolerate, even discounting Tywin's eventual reaction. I don't have any idea how she will react, if we guarantee her children's safety Cersei might actually concede gracefully, I don't know."

The Blackfish wouldn't have bet on that before actually coming to the city and interacting with Cersei, but one thing that had he had come to respect about her was that Cersei cared deeply for her children. If proof was needed the grief she had shown since Tommen's passing was more than proof enough.

"You and I both know we wouldn't be able to guarantee any such thing." Ned said harshly. "Roberts temper is chancy at the best of times, this will throw him over the edge and you know it. Moreover, the law will be on his side, adultery is a hanging offense at the noble level, at the royal…" Ned shook his head.

"Possibly, but we could try. And I notice you're not saying no about preparing our troops for battle?"

"No that just makes good sense. I'll have a word with Jory this very afternoon and devise some emergency plans, in particular for the children, some we'll be adding to their daily routine. In particular I want them to be out of the Red Keep at least once daily. On the martial side, have Edmure start to gather the Riverrun men that are scattered throughout the city, and I will pass on a message to the captain of the Fish's Scales. As far as we know no one knows about him and his men just yet, they can be our hidden blade in case of conflict."

Brynden nodded grimly, and left to begin the process.

Ned was about to stand up and follow him but he stopped to smile slightly at his daughter and Myrcella who were playing some kind of board game using both chess pieces and checker pieces, while Alayaya walked them through the rules. The sight stabbed him through the heart, knowing that come what may Myrcella at least would be deeply affected by the coming days. No longer a princess, a trueborn, or a Baratheon, what will be left for you, child?

OOOOOOO

Ned found Renly in his solar sitting and chatting with Loras while they shared a bottle of wine and some little delicacies of some kind while Renly made notes on a parchment scroll. The Northern Lord Paramount had been stopped at the door by one of the men from High Garden, which had allowed Renly and Loras to move apart from their embrace quickly rearranging themselves to look as if they had simply been talking.

Renly waved one hand airily. "Lord Stark, to what do I owe the honor? If you're here to ask for that survey of merchant houses from the Stormlands that are still using outdated letters of accreditation, I'm nearly done it. Give me another day and…"

"I am not here about that." Ned said grimly then flicked his gaze to Loras. "I would speak with you alone, Ser Renly."

"I have no secrets from Loras, whatever you want to say you may say in front of him." Renly replied still not taking Ned seriously.

"Even if it about something that constitutes treason to the crown?" Ned said softly.

That finally woke Renly up, and he nodded at Loras. "Guard the door, and see that we are not disturbed." The handsome knight nodded sending a surreptitious wink his lover's way as he went.

That nearly caused Renly to laugh aloud, but he refrained, seeing Ned's expression. The full on Stone Face of the Starks was on show at present, those dark eyes boring into Renly's, causing him to shiver a little. He gestured at the seat across from him and said formally. "What is this about Lord Stark?"

Anyone else might've come to the point slowly in a roundabout manner. But Eddard was a Northerner, who preferred blunt speech, so he simply came to the heart of the matter quickly.

He first went into what Jon Arryn's last words were, then his and Robert's growing concern about Joffrey, about how they were days from declaring Tommen the heir before he was killed. He told Renly about his investigation into Jon's death, the evidence Ned had found pointing to how Jon had been researching the House Baratheon and Robert's bastards in the city and elsewhere, all of whom shared the same dark hair and facial structure of Robert.

Renly began to see where this was going, and he gnawed on one fingernail worriedly. Part of Renly wanted to speak up and stop Eddard from continuing, but he couldn't get out the words before Lord Stark finally finished by summarizing the missive he had received, and the confirmation that in all the former marriages between the Baratheons and the Lannisters, not one child had been born with the golden hair of the lions rather than the brown hair of the stags.

"So you see, the Queen has broken her marriage vows, and has passed three bastards as legitimate children of the crown." Ned finished. "A treasonous act, and one that we must address."

Renly rubbed both of his hands across his face. "This is a nightmare. "What do you intend to do Lord Stark?"

"I intend to tell the King of course." Eddard replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "If you would go with me to offset Robert's and my current estrangement, if both of us present this plus the evidence, Robert will have to take it seriously. Then we will move against Cersei with an ultimatum: if she steps aside, both she and her children will not be harmed. They will be removed from the royal family of course, but they will all be allowed to return to Casterly Rock."

"She'll never go for it!" Renly exclaimed looking askance at the northern Lord. "How can you be that naïve?"

"Not naïve." Ned said shaking his head. "Cersei loves her children, it's one of her best qualities. To ensure their continued health she may step aside, and with Robert confronting her, she will lose a large amount of her power base. Nor is it as if I do not have other plans in place just in case she doesn't."

Renly paused for a moment then nodded. "She might," he conceded. The woman's grief since Tommen's death had been something to see. It was obvious to all that Cersei cared deeply for her children. "And if we guarantee that the truth of the matter will not come out, we can say that she was raped and refused to name her rapist for some reason or something, that will save her from further issue. We can even say that Tommen was a natural born, that will save further face for her."

Ned frowned at the duplicitous idea, but nodded. He was already feeling guilty about what this would do to Myrcella, he would not besmirch Tommen's memory as well. "Let Tommen be known as a new true born heir then," he said smiling faintly. "We owe the lad's memory that much considering that it might've been Robert and I being ready to name him heir that got Tommy killed."

"Of course," Renly said moving on. "That means that Robert will need a new queen quickly. One that brings a sufficient power to bolster the throne when the Lannisters withdraw their support."

"And I suppose you have a suggestion? We should also recall Lord Stannis. As the eldest of the two of you he is Robert's heir until Robert begets a true born child."

"That would be a nightmare." Renly retorted coldly. "My middle brother is a hard, cold man Lord Stark, he's not changed overmuch last time you and he spoke, only becoming more demanding and set in his ways, more taciturn and unfeeling. If he was named heir and something happened to Robert before he could beget a child, it would be a disaster. No, the moment the Queen is removed, I will send for Margaery Tyrell. House Tyrell and the power of The Reach will more than make up the loss of Lannister support. With them on our side, Lord Lannister will have no choice but to accept his daughter's removal."

"You realize you are speaking of my son's possible fiancée?" Ned replied coolly.

"Margaery was recalled, and that relationship never made official." Renly said calmly. "And I have no doubts that Lord Tyrell will jump at the chance to put a queen's crown on his daughter's head. I'm sorry if you think your son had feelings for her, but this is politics at its most basic form."

"Which is why my gorge is rising right now." Ned said, his voice still wintry. "Very well, if you think that is a good idea, then we will do so, but for now we need to concentrate on current events rather than the future, we need to make plans and ready our men as much as we can without being obvious about it, just in case. Robert isn't in the city right now, we can send a message to him, but I don't doubt any messenger we send will be ignored."

"Truly my brother does love his little pleasures." Renly said, a smile on his face despite Ned's disapproving gaze. "You're right there, we'll have to wait until Robert returns, and we can use the time to our advantage."

Lord Stark was suddenly very tired of this southern lord, King's Landing, the 'game' of politics, all of it. All I wish, he thought to himself sadly, is to return home to my lady wife and my children, to spend my days overseeing my land with Cat at my side and my family around me. Is that too much to ask?

He shook that thought off quickly, the stern demands of duty settling around his shoulders like a mountain. "Very well, the moment Robert returns we will front him together. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Renly said nodding his head formally. "I will gather what supporters I have, and tell them to be ready, will you do the same?"

"I have already begun so." With that Ned bowed and left, leaving Renly to call Loras back in.

OOOOOOO

In a hidden alcove set directly under Renly's apartments, Petyr moved his ear away from the small hole he had been listening at. He replaced the piece of rock that normally obscured it from view in the far corner, nearly covered by the rug Renly had brought in to liven up the suite. The sound had still carried through thankfully. The keep was riddled with such small alcoves, and he, and Varys, that miserable gelding, knew most of them, though Petyr thought he might know more than the eunuch.

While Petyr no longer had even a single agent inside the Hand's Tower, that didn't mean he couldn't post people to note who came and went from the Tower. One of his watchers among the staff had warned him that Lord Stark was heading towards Renly's apartment, and Petyr had gotten there just in time to listen in on what the two were saying.

Petyr sighed faintly, smiling viciously. At last the conflicts he had envisioned seemed about to commence. "And so it begins. I think the Queen should be warned that someone is on to her, though of course I won't do it myself. I will instead pass this on to the grandmaster, he can pass it on to her in turn, couched however he will. But how to position myself to protect sweet Sansa is the real question. A pity that Ned proved to be so untrusting of me, yet I can still position myself to protect the girl, and then be rewarded later, when Joffrey is forced to set her aside."

Over the past few months, Petyr's hatred of Lord Stark and his entire house had not abated, indeed it had deepened. Every time he heard about Cat's monthly messages to her husband, saw the love he and Ranma bore her, had been a dagger in his heart. Yet at the same time, he had seen Sansa, sweet, unsullied Sansa, so like her mother it was astonishing, move around the Keep her manner and bearing a delight to watch. If Catelyn was so happy to bed with wolves, then she was not the woman Petyr had loved for so long. Her daughter however, was everything Catelyn had been in her youth, yet untainted by the touch of the northern barbarians, so Petyr's obsession with Catelyn had slowly begun to change to Sansa. The thought of the young girl, so innocent and so ripe, caused his smile to widen. Petyr moved off through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep, whistling a jaunty tune.

OOOOOOO

Clenching her teeth, Cersei took a moment to compose herself before she nodded her head thankfully to Pyrcelle. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Maester Pyrcelle," she said her voice barely a whisper as her heart pounded. The time had come, and she found that she wasn't nearly as ready for it as she had hoped to be in her own mind.

So many plans can no longer work, she thought to herself, so many ideas and hopes. I had hoped to possibly defend myself and Joffrey alone from this accusation, I even had the scapegoat ready and waiting for when Stark approached me. But with Tommen dead… That thought once again stopped all others, and she had to force her grief down and away.

The Queen was a Lannister in all things, she loved fiercely, dearly and possessively. Burying one of her children was the hardest thing she had ever done, made worse by the memory of that old-wise woman's prophecy about her. Yet the promised younger, more beautiful Queen hadn't appeared to overthrow her, unless Margaery had really been that Queen, but that made no sense.

Enough, she thought shaking her head of out of that thought. With my little cub dead and without his growing 'Baratheon' attributes to offset things, I can no longer assume I can protect myself or my children from this accusation without violence. That changes my plans dramatically, but I can still deal with it.

She reached over to a table, pulling writing tools toward her before looking up at the Grandmaster. "Send a servant for my brother, I believe he is still training at this time of day. Then send a runner in, I want to send a message to my cousin…"

Jaime arrived first, his tunic over one shoulder as he wiped the sweat from his body. He smirked, hoping is sister had sent for him to take advantage of the king being out of the city, but the look in her eyes killed that idea, and he sobered somewhat. "Is there a problem sister dear?"

Cersei explained what was going on, and then what they would need to do to protect themselves and their children. Ned still hadn't found any evidence to suggest Jaime was the father of Cersei's children, but he didn't have to, the idea they were illegitimate alone would be enough to see Cersei executed and her children disgraced utterly. Jaime sighed, then shrugged his shoulders, and agreed to do whatever he had to protect his sister.

OOOOOOO

"Can I ask you a question?" Daenerys asked, watching as the two draklings were roughhousing on an open area of the deck marked out by several small crates. She sat on one, dangling her feet below her into the play area, and half of her mind was making certain that the two of them didn't injure one another accidentally. But such playing was necessary for any young predator. Whatever they looked like now, however ungainly they sometimes seem to be, dragons were predators and they needed this.

"You could always ask, I reserve the right to not answer though." Ranma said laughing lightly as he looked up from where he was hauling in a net that the crew had flung over the side. They were trying to augment their food supplies since they had been becalmed again and couldn't make any headway. Several dozen wriggling fish indicated that the trawl net had actually worked this time, unlike the first three times they had tried this.

Daenerys smiled, leaning back slightly as she enjoyed the sun on her face, then nodded politely at several of the seamen who moved by her touching their forelocks respectfully toward her. "How did you get so good? I mean I've seen you work out with Domeric, and he was known as a decent swordsman, one of the best in the city, but you handle him like he's well…" she glanced at Domeric apologetically "a bumbling child."

The bard waved his hand airily. "I don't take offense. After all, I saw him in action up close and personal years before, and it's obvious he only has gotten better since. Still she's right, your skills are astonishing. How did you come by them?"

Ranma was silent for a moment as he continued to haul in the net doing alone what would take ten men to do normally. Daenerys watched him frowning slightly despite the fact he was shirtless at present, giving her a magnificent view of his chest. She had gotten to know Ranma well over the past few weeks, so much so that she could read him quite easily. Right now she could tell he was carefully thinking what he wanted to say. But Daenerys was patient, she knew eventually Ranma would bring her into his confidence, it would just take time for him to get used to the idea, as it had her.

"I have been training since I was around three." he said after a moment. "And by training I mean real training, not just playing or trying to swing a sword or anything like that. Leg exercises, muscle exercises, endurance exercises, then actual training later."

Again Daenerys frowned slightly, knowing that wasn't even a quarter of the answer. Ranma really was hiding something there, but she hadn't really asked the question to probe his secrets. "How long would it take you to train me? I know I won't ever be as good as you, but could you at least train me well enough to defend myself against someone well, normal?" she quipped, a smile on her face.

Ranma paused in his work to look at her head cocked to one side. He wasn't about to question her desire to be trained, he felt everyone should have some training, and had always been rather irritated with Sansa that she refused any such. It would be a vast relief to him if Daenerys could handle herself in at least a one-on-one situation, such as an assassin or someone trying to assault her.

He looked over her body, not sexually, simply trying to figure out how good a fighter she could be with her body type and what sort. After a moment he shrugged. "I could teach you some tricks I suppose, and of course I can teach you exercises to get your strength and endurance up. But really you're a little too old to become as good as you could be."

"No offense," he hastened to say at her upraised eyebrow. "But to get the most out of my training you really do need to start young or at least with a lot of martial training already under your belt... Speed exercises would be your best bet. You don't have the body type to really build up heavy muscles, and it will take months maybe even a year before you build up enough strength to match even a normal warrior. Still, we can do something. I'd certainly feel better if you knew how to protect yourself. But it will take away from time training with the draklings," he warned.

That caused Daenerys to pause in her response. Priorities she thought to herself, my bonding with my babes is going exceptionally well, but is that because of how much time I'm putting into it, or because of my warging with them?

In the end however she shook her head. "That'll be okay I suppose. My draklings won't be up to actually protecting me from much for at least a year, until then I might have to protect myself at times."

"And you'll have me and Domeric of course." Ranma said smiling slightly.

Daenerys nodded her head at them both, but then smiled eagerly. "So when do we begin?"

OOOOOOO

Stannis stared across the dining table at the woman that the small folk had begun to call the Red Witch. It certainly fit her clothing, and that hair. The Tully women were supposed to all be auburn-haired beauties, or at least Catelyn was, her younger sister never amounted to much in the looks department. But Catelyn couldn't hold a candle either in looks or in sheer redness of their hair to Melisandre. Her body was one that could stand up even to Cersei in beauty, and her face, when it wasn't twisted into a sneer or alight with religious fervor, was among the most gorgeous he had ever seen.

Yet all of that was simply the trappings, it didn't matter to him at all. What did matter was what she could do, but right now Stannis was doubting even that. "What did you just say?"

"I have seen it in the fires." Melisandre said sternly. She didn't like repeating yourself. "The Dragon Queen is approaching on a ship from Essos. She must be captured and sacrificed, her blood will give us powers beyond your imagining."

Not reacting to her tone, Stannis calmly poured himself some wine. At this point Melisandre had proven that she did have certain powers, but not enough to make Stannis take her word for everything, and certainly not enough for him to convert yet to the religion of R'hllor. "Precisely why is she there, and why should I stop her? House Targaryen cannot call upon enough men to matter in the coming struggle alone. All Stormborn has is a name, and there are very few even in Dorne despite their posturing, that will go to war for such."

"She comes bearing two dragons, guarded by a Wolf who stands like a man. He brings her to King's Landing, and from thence he wishes to take her up to the North." That Wolf had often appeared in her scrying, and she knew he was a prominent figure in the future.

Both him and the Dragon Queen now, who had at first been obscured to her sight was now even as prominent as the Wolf, a power rising to shape the future. Yet the power of her visions had been growing of late, and now she was able to see her at last, and knew how important she was to the future. Their alliance would stave off the True Enemy, and would have an effect on the coming war against the rest of the unbelievers.

But neither was Azor Ahai, and as such all of their efforts would fail. It was predestined that only the Chosen of R'hllor could stand against the forces of winter, could lay claim to the throne of swords. And that was Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone.

How else to explain who much more powerful her spells were these days? No longer did she need to augment her magics to appear more spectacular. Her fires were hotter, her visions clearer, she could now control her shadows to a degree she had never even dreamed. Her ability to dominate those around her was far higher as well. Lady Florent, Stannis' wife, was now nearly a mindless puppet, as was her daughter, and several others in the court, though Stannis, as Azor Ahai, was seemingly immune to it.

Stannis frowned wishing; not for the first time, that he could get up to date news on what was going on in King's landing, but he had few agents there. He had lost many of them when he retreated to Dragonstone after helping Jon Aryn discover Cersei's perfidy. The ones he still had could only pass messages over land, and even then rarely, the five navy galleys ostensibly under his command stationed there unable to leave their posts save under orders of the king. Stannis was lucky to get a single message from them every month.

He had heard what had occurred in the tourney. Stannis had actually smiled with grudging respect at the Mountain's death. But he hadn't heard yet that Ranma Stark had been sent on a mission to find the two Targaryen siblings so was at a loss as to explain what was going on there.

Still, the wolf was easy to connect to House Stark, and if agents of that house had somehow captured or coerced the Targaryen girl to return with them it could strengthen the Stark position. Yet what can I do about it? As long as my brother is sitting on the throne, my ability to act is limited at best, lest I appear to be raising arms against the crown. No one will rally to me then, I have to wait. Still, I might be able to do something.

"I can send a lone ship out into the bay to see if we can find this ship of yours, but if it isn't marked in some manner, finding one ship out there is a difficult proposition at best, Melisandre. The bay is large even at the nearest point with Dragonstone." Stannis was an accomplished naval commander, and knew how easy it was to hide a single ship out in the vastness of the ocean. Even in Blackwater Bay it was extremely tough to find a single ship, especially if it was unmarked.

"Send me," Melisandre replied, leaning forward. "I can deliver the Dragon Queen to you, and I can deal with the Wolf. That one will never join you, will never see your right to rule, and the older Wolf will be dead shortly." That, Melisandre wasn't actually certain about, but she knew for a fact that the younger Wolf would take power from the old one. If the old one died before that she couldn't see, her visions of late were becoming more and more disjointed even as they became clearer to actually see, but her belief in them was unchanging.

Most seers distrusted their visions, simply because most were self-fulfilling. Melisandre trusted hers wholeheartedly, she saw them as proof of her devotion to R'hllor, and as such never questioned them. It was only her interpretation that was faulty, not the visions themselves, for she was human and thus fallible despite her faith. Only in proving her faith by burning his enemies would she retain R'hllor's favor.

But she didn't have enough influence over him yet to convince Stannis to just let her go. "No," Stannis said coldly. "You have convinced me your magic is real, you have convinced me that your visions are accurate at times, but you have not convinced me that I am this chosen champion. You promised to do so, and you cannot do that if I simply let you go off on this errand. Besides as I said, finding a ship would be much tougher unless I send the entire fleet out, which I can't do unless we have some proof for my captains to see. And even if this Dragon Queen, the Stormborn, is aboard, if she's being returned to King's Landing as a prisoner there is little I can do to lawfully detain it."

"Your brother will be dead within the week." Melisandre said smiling, her eyes alight. "The hidden fang of the lion will bring down the stag as the stag hunts the boar. Even now the wolves and lions circle one another waiting to strike."

Stannis looked at her sharply, not trusting the curious timing of that statement but all he saw in Melisandre's face was sincere belief. "Very well, I will send a ship to apprehend this Queen and to kill the Wolf you see with her. But I still will not send you lady. Again. prove I am this chosen one of yours, and I will convert my faith to that of your God."

Melisandre smiled victoriously, even though she would've preferred to go with Stannis's ship. Still, it should be sufficient. An unfamiliar feeling went through her at that, but she ignored it, not understanding what it was. It was a tiny shiver of doubt, something Melisandre had never felt before.

Instead she simply stood, smiling thinly. "Then let us go to the Hall of the Seven, and I will show you my power and the power of my God."

OOOOOOO

"We've startled a boar out my lord!" said the huntsman, grinning up at the King where he perched on his horse. He wore Lannister colors, but the news made Roberts customary scowl at those colors disappear. "The boar is at least sixty stone my Lord! The largest I've ever seen in this area of the Kingswood!"

"HA!" the King slurred. He had been drinking steadily since waking up that morning, since this was the last day of his hunting expedition that he could get away with before Ned, damn his honorable heart, sent runners out to drag him back by force if necessary. Their relationship wasn't so solid now that Robert could ignore that. In point of fact he was deathly afraid that Ned was going to desert him and head back to Winterfell any day now.

But dammit, he was the king! He could do what he wanted! And his grief over Tommen's death was real, making his bad habits even worse. Moreover, and in a sign of understanding that would surprise most, Robert knew he couldn't be around Cersei in her grief. Soon enough the blame game would start, which neither of them would win, both of them accusing the other of having done something or not done something that led to Tommen's death.

"My Lord." Ser Barristan said from where he rode behind the king, looking at the other man worriedly. "Perhaps we should let someone else take the glory of this one? After all, I thought you wanted to take a stag this trip."

Robert belched then bellowed, "Nonsense! We've had no sport yet on this trip, I'll be damned if I let anyone else bring the first game we've seen down! My spear boy!" He shouted looking contemptuously over at another Lannister, only this one was his squire, apparently. Cersei had foisted her cousin off on him, and the king had agreed. It wasn't worth it, it wasn't as if he was doing all that much knightly crap these days after all. The boy was useful for lugging his gear, mostly his drink and weapons along, anyway.

The mealy mouthed boy nodded, holding out a spear.

Robert took the spear from him, almost missing the shaft of it he was so drunk. For just a moment the thought occurred to Robert that maybe Barristan had been insinuating he was too drunk to do this, but then he shook it off.

"Now, let's go find that boar!" he roared, spurring his horse forward into the woods. Behind him the other in the king's hunting party followed. None of them spotted the look on Lancel Lannister's face. For just a moment his face showed a mix of apprehension, delight, fear and anticipation.

OOOOOOO

Ranma frowned, standing next to the captain as they both watched a sail coming nearer over the horizon. Blackwater Bay was despite its size still a bay, so it wasn't that unusual, especially near the entrance like they were now, to see another sail. But this one seemed to be coming towards them, which was unusual. "Your orders Sir?" the captain asked looking at Ranma.

"Keep going." Ranma replied, frowning. "Add more sail or whatever the term is, do it slowly so this guy doesn't realize that were tryin' to run away from him. But we have an appointment in King's Landing, and we're late enough as it is."

The trip to this point had taken three and a half weeks, far more time then had taken Ranma to get to Pentos in the first place. Going to Pentos the weather had helped them every day on their journey, coming back, well, if Ranma was a superstitious sort he would've thought that the gods were against his returning. He knew for a fact however that at least one group of gods didn't have any reason to do that, so put it down to bad luck.

The captain nodded, though added a clarifier. "That's a galley out there, even from here I can tell that by the shape of their sails. If they're willing to put themselves under oars for long enough though, they'll catch us anyway."

"Just make them work for it captain," Ranma said, still frowning. "I have no idea what these guys want, but I doubt it's good."

The ship kept going, with their pursuer still following them, closing the distance slowly. He was being much too persistent for Ranma's peace of mind. Several hours after the approaching ship had been sighted, Ranma was once again standing next to the captain. "How long until we can see what colors he's flying?"

"It'll about another three hours I think, unless we slow down to let him catch us sooner."

"No, keep going for now." Ranma ordered. "I'm going to go below for a moment." Entering his room he found Daenerys and Domeric both looking anxious.

Daenerys had both dragons on her shoulders, tense and ready. It was a martial picture, but it didn't match the reality at all. In a fight the little dragons would be a major distraction, not an aid. If they could control their little spurts of flame maybe, but they couldn't, not yet. And while they were strong for their size, that wasn't saying much, and they couldn't exactly bite through chain mail or anything like that. Still it showed willing at least.

Domeric on the other hand was a slightly more serious proposition. His shoulder had almost healed, but it hadn't been on his dominant arm in any case, and he had honed his skills through sparring with Ranma many times over the past few weeks once he recovered. He also wore Ranma's armor. It didn't fit well, he was a bit, well more than a bit broader in the waist than Ranma, and slightly thinner in the shoulders, but it was still armor.

"Still following us." Ranma reported shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at Fenris, who stood up at his silent command padding over to the doorway. Ranma pulled out his katana, and the belt with his katars on it. "We'll try to talk our way out of this whatever it is, but if we can't you two need to stay here." He sighed faintly. "Fenris and I have done this dance before, don't worry."

Daenerys winced. She and Ranma had talked once about the battle with the Ironborn that Ranma had before arriving in the free city, and she knew that he was actually quite guilty about that one sided slaughter. She thought it was ridiculous, the Ironborn had been the attackers after all, but Ranma likened it to battling so many children. The Ironborn just hadn't really had a chance, and so many deaths had weighed on his mind.

"I hope it does not come to that." She said, moving over to him and touching his arm gently after he finished up buckling on his belt.

Ranma nodded, taking her hand in his squeezing it lightly before exiting the room. Daenerys watched him go, worry in her eyes, and then looked over at Domeric who shrugged. "If anyone can see us through this, that young man can."

That did not make Daenerys any less worried. When she heard the shouting being outside, she steeled herself, then marched out, pushing Domeric's arm aside when he tried to stop her. Even if Rhaegon and Sunfyre weren't ready to fight, there was still something she could do.

Ranma moved back up onto the deck, taking up position by the wheel next to the captain staring at the oncoming ship.

The captain now was nervously pulling at his beard. "They're the Royal Navy colors, though the marks underneath the flag indicates its out of Dragonstone. That means it might be answering personally to Lord Stannis, Master of Ships."

Ranma frowned at that, unable to think up a reason why a Royal navy ship would be approaching them, unless it was just bad luck and this was some random inspection or something. He asked the captain if that could be what this was, but the captain shook his head at that, looking astonished at the very idea.

At that, Ranma shrugged. "I have no idea what this ship captain wants, but we're for damn sure not answerable to him or to Lord Stannis of Dragonstone. Unless they come on orders of the King I'm not going to let them board."

"Are you sure you can stop them?" the captain said. "I'm not going to order the crew to fight them, this isn't like the Ironborn, these are actual royal authorities. I could be banned from the ports of the Bay for not obeying them."

"I'll try not to let that happen." Ranma said with a sigh.

Soon enough the boat was close enough, and a man with a blow horn at the front shouted. "Heave to and prepare to boarded!"

Ranma cupped his hands, needing no foghorn. "On whose authority!"

"Lord Stannis Baratheon, the lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships!"

"I am Ranma Stark, heir to House Stark." Ranma bellowed back frowning as the ship kept coming closer, now making to pull alongside, the oarsmen in view now. "And I'm returning from a task for the king to King's Landing! Unless you've got royal authority we won't heave to and if you try to board us you'll be delayinga royal mission!"

The man was silent for a moment, before shouting back. "I have my orders! If you will not heave to and prepare for inspection, then I will be forced to board you."

By this point the ship was close enough, and Ranma looked over at Fenris for a second, sending orders down their link before launching himself into the air. The men aboard the galley gasped as he cleared over four dozen yards of open water in a leap that none of them would ever have imagined possible.

One man, a youngster who had been fiddling with his bow and arrow nervous about what could be his first battle hastily raised it and fired before anyone else could stop him.

Ranma saw the arrow coming. Swiftly raising a hand he smacked it to one side using the momentum of that to flip himself in midair, still moving forward. The move however had dampened enough of his forward momentum forcing him to land lightly on the stern railing of the ship.

He stared down at the men gathered to board the merchant vessel, while behind him Fenris made the same leap to land on his four feet heavily in front of him to one side. Ranma stared around at them all, his eyes narrowed. "Who is in charge here?"

The captain quickly forced his way through his troops to stand in front of Ranma. He was an experienced man, who had served with Ser Davos Seaworth at one point. The onion knight had been a good teacher, and he was a fair captain and decent leader. He had also met Lord Stark during the Ironborn rebellion, and could recognize the features of the family in Ranma, so nodded his head cordially, but firmly. "Lord Stark, as I said I am under orders. Could you have your captain heave to please?"

"Captain, I'm under orders from the King himself. Last time I checked Lord Stannis is his Master of Ships, not the other way around." Ranma said looking sternly at the man.

"There are rumors that the King is dead Sir. Your orders then would fall to the heir who is Lord Stannis."

"Joffrey, is the heir." Much as I loathe the little prick. "Why is Stannis declaring himself the heir, and where did this rumor of the king's death come from?" Ranma asked quizzically.

"Joffrey's not legitimate, Lord Stannis has proof of that, though I haven't heard it myself, and the rumors have been flying for days. Sir please, I am to return to Dragonstone with the Stormborn."

Ranma's eyes narrowed. How the hell did Stannis learn that Daenerys is aboard? I'm getting that 'I'm dealing with magic feeling', damn haven't felt that in this lifetime outside of dealin' with the White Walkers. No way would Stannis work with them though, so who?

He shook that thought off, hands twitching as he stared hard at the man. "Until I return to King's Landing with my charge, I don't recognize Lord Stannis's authority over me." Ranma said formally his eyes narrowing. "So if you want to board my ship, you're going to have to do it by force in which case we might as well start the party right here."

His hand flashed faster than any of the men around him could follow. One hand his hand was empty, the next his katana's point was pressed against the captain's jugular. "Are we going to have trouble captain?"

Ranma didn't really like doing this. The captain was just doing his job, and if Stannis had proof that Joffrey was illegitimate, that changed things immensely. But the King being dead was just a rumor apparently, so in his mind Ranma was in the right here. And there was the fact Stannis shouldn't have known he had Daenerys aboard at all, which made himself suspicious

And he would've hesitated even if he wasn't to turn Daenerys over to Lord Stannis. Ranma had given his word that he would've been protected, and he would see to it that she was. The fact that he had come to like the girl, even possibly in a romantic way, was wrapped up in that of course.

The man gulped, blustering. "I have over two hundred men aboard!"

"Yeah, but that's not the point, the point is pressing into your throat right now." Ranma chuckled grimly, the katana not moving even as the men behind the captain began to reach for their own weapons. "Let's face facts captain, I'm in the right here. As far as I know, the King is still alive, you haven't given me any proof of his death, there has been no official notification that came in to Dragonstone about it or you'd have said that. It's only Stannis's word about that, and that Joffrey is illegitimate, as much as I'd like to believe that. Until I return to King's Landing, my authority supersedes yours."

The man gulped again, feeling the tip of the odd looking sword against his throat. "I-I can understand your position Lord Stark, I will let your ship go."

"I'm glad we could be reasonable." Ranma said, sheathing his blade. Fenris however remained ready for anything, and if the people watching him thought Ranma was relaxed they weren't looking close enough.

So when he stood back and the captain jumped back, shouting "Get him!" Those were the last he would ever speak. Ranma's sword was again out and slicing forward as he jumped after the man, slicing his stomach open despite his cuirass.

The katana whipped back into a guard position. Ranma waited a bare second, hoping that the crew, with their captain so easily dispatched, would grow some common sense. But they didn't since normal common sense, which Ranma didn't actually understand, would dictate that one man would have no chance against a full crew, whatever the size of his wolf.

Instead after a second of horror the nearest men charged at him. Ranma sighed, then charged in turn, one hand holding a katar while his right hand held his katana. Right before the first men could reach him, he leaped up, grabbing a hanging rope from one of the sails, flinging himself into the center of the boarding party rather than the front.

His weapons flashed out, katana cutting into the shoulder of one man while his katar punched through another man's helmet to slice his head open. Three more men died in similar manner as Ranma remained in the air, using their spear shafts and heads as springboards. It confused the men around him, allowing him to move above them, killing as he went with relative ease.

This was a deliberate choice of style on Ranma's part. He hoped that doing so would demoralize his enemies, forcing them to think about surrendering, which would let him win without actually killing them all.

Unable to take to the air like Ranma, Fenris barreled forward, glowing with his own life energy. Swords, spears, axes even a warhammer shattered against his fur. One of the things that he had been training on hardest was his chi-strengthening. He still couldn't use it for long, but he could use it for much longer than before.

Fenris' flashed his jaws downward, ripping a man's arm off, before twisting his head to one side, biting into another man's chest, ripping him in half. His legs lashed out, sending men flying. Men began to scream "Monster!" and pull back.

Arrows began to land among them, and Ranma took a second out of his leap between one man's head and the next to see that the crew of the merchant vessel were lining the side, firing arrows into the crew of the navy galley. Though she was out of sight, he also heard a female voice shouting "Concentrate fire on the rowers!"

Over a dozen men went down from the sudden arrow hail. But the crew hadn't replaced the arrows lost against the Ironborn, so they only had a few arrows each, and their accuracy hadn't gone up either. Still at this point they could hardly miss.

Better however, it gave Ranma an idea. With a thought, he sent Fenris at the rowers as well, not to kill the rowers particularly, but to destroy the actual paddles. Ranma took the other side, smashing aside men now, not actually killing many, simply bashing them aside to get at the oar. The two juggernauts shattered every oar they saw, only actually killing one out of four men trying to fight them now.

Aboard the merchant caravel Daenerys realized what Ranma was doing, with delight. He's not trying to kill the crew, Ranma's going to destroy their ability to come after us! She quickly turned, grabbing up a bow and staring across at Domeric. "Fire arrows, can we make them quickly?"

"I don't know, why?" Domeric asked, wincing as he tried to fire a bow. He missed, he wasn't an archer, and he decided to let that lie. Yet he couldn't quite turn away from the action on the other boat, watching Ranma bound around, dance almost in midair as he went. I feel another song coming on. The 'Dancing Wolf' or perhaps 'the Flying Wolf', no, those sound too much like mummers acts, something to think about when I have leisure.

"Keep up man! Find some fire arrows or make them, then aim at the sails!" Daenerys said, slapping his good shoulder to get his attention.

Back on the navy galley, Ranma had finished destroying the oars on his side. Fenris was nearly done, but he had gotten snarled up in several nets, slowing him down enough that the crew of the ship had been able to fully circle him, though they weren't having much luck in actually hurting him just yet.

Instead, the men manning the nets were being thrown around like ninepins smashing their fellow armsmen around, killing several before they too died and let go of their hold on the nets. Fenris then rushed forward, grabbing the net in his teeth, tearing it asunder easily, his teeth glowing blue for just an instant.

Ranma arrived at that point, having just jumped over several dozen armsmen, smashing feet first into a man aiming a spear at his Fenris' back. Katana and katar flashed cutting and chopping into heads and shoulders. Again he remained in the air, using their arms, heads and even the edge of their thrust up blades to balance himself as he went, a feat that was both utterly astonishing to everyone who watched, and demoralizing to the crew he was currently fighting.

Fenris roared out of the last vestiges of the nets, once again looking nicked around the edges, but nothing life threatening or even anything that would later leave a scar. He was having a more difficult time of it then his bonded, yet he had finished the destruction of the oars on his side of the galley.

Glancing up as he heard a 'fwoosh' sound, Ranma saw several makeshift fire arrows hitting the canvas of the sail above him. the crew had kept the sail open even as they added oars to close the distance to the caravel, since the wind was helping them along, but now it came back to bite them.

More of the fire arrows missed then hit, they weren't prepared ones, so their ability to actually fly was limited to say the least, but enough hit both the rigging and the navy galley to incite panic among the crew. More than half of them threw down their weapons at that point, rushing down into the hold to grab up buckets of sand and water to put out the fires they could.

"Ranma, come on!" Daenerys shouted, gesturing for him to hurry with one hand, while the other was keeping a firm hold on Rhaegon who was trying to flap off her shoulder, the sight of the fires exciting him. Sunfyre was much more sedate, simply watching everything from her other shoulder.

Ranma could see her point. The captain of the caravel had pulled some of his crew away from the side of the ship and they were now making full sail, getting away from the naval cutter now that it didn't have sail or oars.

At his mental command, Fenris leaped toward him through the tumult of the deck, and a second later both of them leaped toward the retreating caravel. Ranma quickly sheathed his weapons midair, and was barely able to grab onto the back railing of the ship with his outstretched hands. That was enough for him though, and he flipped himself up over the railing, before grabbing up a long line of rope, tossing it over the side to where Fenris had hit the water of the bay.

Fenris grabbed the rope, holding it tight in his jaws but not cutting it and Ranma began to heave him out of the water. The direwolf's paws scrambled at the back of the ship for a second, but Ranma was able to heave him aboard quickly.

"We won!" Someone in the crew shouted, and there was a rousing cheer, mixed with cries of "Stark" and more than one shouted "Stormborn!" There was a lot of back slapping and general joviality before the captain regained control with a single bellow. The rest of the crew went to work quickly under his glower.

Daenerys walked through the crew toward Ranma meeting him halfway, with Fenris padding behind him, shaking himself every other step. Water, Fenris decided, was fine in moderation, but the humans could keep this 'sea' thing.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room." Ranma asked, making it more of an ironical statement than a question. He was smiling, shaking his head at her as she walked up to him.

"Hah! And where would you be if I had meekly obeyed you now, hmm?" Daenerys scoffed, looking him over for wounds then reaching out to scratch Fenris's head. On her shoulder Rhaegon had settled down again, watching both humans avidly, while Sunfyre fluttered the few feet down to land on Fenris' damp back. Her silver hair blew in the wing, her violet eyes were alight with delight at the fact her plan had worked, as well as Ranma's survival.

Despite the battle he had just fought, despite the fact she still wore his shirt and leggings, Ranma thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He shook his head slightly, reaching out with one hand to push a bit of her hair back behind her ear. "You took a major risk, and those men on that ship know you're here now. But thank you, all the same."

And for more than figuring out how to stop the ship from being able to board us without my having to kill them all, He thought, more sternly than the moment would match. I'm a lord's son, I can't just rush in, I need to remember the overall battle as well.

Daenerys blushed at his touch, and their eyes locked for a moment. For a moment there on the deck everything else disappeared, and it was just the two of them staring into one another's eyes, seeing the growing feelings there.

The moment could not last, and thankfully for both of them Sunfyre took that moment to start making the little snarl noises that indicated he was feeling hungry. Rhaegon immediately followed suit, surprisingly followed by Fenris. Using his life energy took a lot out of the direwolf, and he had no patience for the silly two-legs mating rituals.

Ranma laughed softly, the moment was broken and the two young people turned their attention to their animals before heading down into the ship. Behind them, the naval galley floundered where it was, the fires out, but no way to move after them or back to port. Ranma took a moment to glance back at the galley, worry crossing his features for a moment as to what this attack meant, and what he would find in King's Landing.

He shook his head, getting rid of the thought for now, but it would return many times over the coming days. Even so, and even after reading the notes his father had given him with his worries, at that point not confirmed concerns about Joffrey, his fears would not match the reality.

OOOOOOO

"What do you mean my brother is dead?" Renly asked coldly, a flicker of fear going through him.

"The, the kings dead my Lord, gored by a boar while on the hunt!" The beast took him right through his stomach when his spear broke." The man stammered. He was a Baratheon man, loyal to Renly as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and he had raced ahead of the returning hunting party to bring him the news, though he wasn't the only one.

"This changes everything," Renly muttered, rubbing at his forehead. He felt some grief at his brothers passing, but right now he needed to concentrate on his own welfare. With the king dead, there was no way the Lannisters would back down, it would come to open combat now. "How many men can we call upon?" He asked looking over at Loras.

The handsome Knight of Roses frowned thoughtfully, before shrugging. "Not many. The forty men I brought with me from High Garden, the hundred guardsmen in Baratheon colors here in the Red Keep, that's about it. We could nominally call on a few of the Lords and their retainers from court, but their loyalty would be suspect at best. Of course there's Lord Stark's forces, he's got a little under a hundred and twenty personally, and another hundred or so supporters."

"And the Lannister forces in the keep alone outnumber them four to one…" That actually wasn't the case with the ones who were dressed in Lannister colors, but their supporters in the court had always outnumbered the Wolf supporters, and the remaining supporters of the king, those that hadn't been sent out with Ser Thoros, had shrunk even more after Tommen's death. That had only become apparent to Renly in the past few days unfortunately, or he might've called in more men from the Stormlands to offset it, but it was too late now.

Renly began to pace about, thinking hard. If I know Ned he will move to have himself named as regent until Stannis can be sent for, at that point things will go bad quickly. As far as most people know Joffrey is still Robert's heir, and now it will be simply the Cersei's word against Ned's, without the King there to decide one way or another. The Queen will respond, calling up her troops if need be, and Ned won't back off, even though we're so badly outnumbered, stupid, stubborn fool! And if I'm here when it happens, the Queen will have me killed as well. She'll have to suspect that I know the truth at least about her children, and even if she doesn't, Stannis and I both represent a threat to them and her control.

"Prepare the horses." He said abruptly turning to Loras. "For all of us, your men and mine. We're getting out of here."

Loras frowned, not liking running from a fight, but knew that this fight was lost. The numbers were simply against him and he knew that Renly's life was in danger if Cersei suspected he knew the truth about her son. "I'll see to it."

If he had known that Lord Stark had more forces on hand then anyone suspected, he might well have tried to convince Renly to stay, but he didn't. A fact that would have an impact both in the short term and in the long term.

OOOOOOO

Petyr and Varys entered the king's council room, with eagerness and trepidation respectively hidden under their habitual control. Sitting at the head of the table, Cersei looked at the two 'neutral' members of the small council with scant favor, wondering what plans the two of them had going for them, wondering what they would do when she laid out what was going to happen, and how far she could trust them. Or for how long, belike.

She looked over to Jaime, who had just closed the door and now stood next to it, smiling thinly, one hand on his sword hilt. Several other armed men from different houses loyal to House Lannister for various reasons were also there, awaiting instructions.

He nodded at his sister, and Cersei began. "You have heard that the king is dead, gored by a boar on his latest hunting expedition. It has come to our attention that Lord Stark means to name himself regent, and then to send for Lord Stannis. His reasoning for this act does not matter, this cannot be born, and is an act of treason against the crown. As such, he will be arrested, jailed and tried, before being given the choice of taking the black or execution. Now, I have to ask where you two will stand."

Jaime deliberately smacked his pommel against the stone wall behind him, smirking. Both men looked over their shoulders at him, then at one another with even less favor than the Queen had given them both.

The Master of Coin however was smirking internally. He had expected this summons, and was ready. "I am loyal to the crown your highness, and would more than willing to put myself at your services. Indeed, I have certain forces of my own in the city, that will aid you if need be. I also have connections with the gold cloaks, and know people who are angry enough at being passed over for higher positions in them that they will back you if you guarantee to remove Lord Stark's appointments there."

"Very well." Queen said. "You will retain your post as Master of Coin, your forces will be added to ours. We will discuss remuneration for your aid after Lord Stark has been dealt with." The Queen looked over at the master of whispers, one eyebrow raised.

The eunuch sighed. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go, and he could see it going even worse than he feared all to easily, but right now he didn't have a choice. "I am on the side of the crown of course Your Majesty, and on the side of peace and long term stability. Lord Starks decision to set aside Prince Joffrey would set a very bad precedent long-term, and Lord Stannis would be a nightmare as a king. I have no martial forces to add to yours, but I will not make issue with your moving against Lord Stark."

"Good. Lord Stark is presently in the city, I want him arrested and brought to the keep immediately. You Baelish, will take command of a force of gold cloaks from their garrison here in the Red Keep to do this."

Looking over at her brother Cersei went on, ignoring Petyr's protests with royal disdain. Forcing him to act openly like this with her family would burn any bridges he might think he could use to save himself if things went sour somehow. "Jaime, you will take command of our forces and gather up the men from Riverrun that are in the city. They represent a large amount of Lord Stark's forces. With them out of the way he won't have enough men to win this. Designate someone else to take command of the forces here in the keep to besiege the tower."

Jamie nodded grimly, tapping one finger on his sword hilt, anticipation rising within him,

In contrast Cersei was a bundle of nerves inside. She had tried desperately to keep open conflict from occurring, knowing it was so chancy, and while she had faith in her brother as a swordsman, she didn't know how well he would fare in directing a battle in the city. Nor did she know how Ranma would react when he returned. That he would return was something Cersei was certain of. It was as simple as night following day to her, but now the die was cast, and to save herself and her children there was nothing Cersei would not do.

Petyr frowned heavily, trying to think of something he could say to dissuade the queen from forcing him to do this, but looking at her cold, watchful expression, he realized what she was doing. It would appear as if Cersei is more subtle than I had thought, damn it. I will need to remember this lesson in the future. For now however, I am stuck with this, and will need to make the most of it.

Nodding her head mentally as Petyr stopped protesting, Cersei turned to look over at Ser Detmer Gaunt, of House Gaunt. House Gaunt was an almost eternally poverty stricken minor Crownlands, who Cersei had been loaning money to for some years. "Take as many men as you need, you know what to do."

Detmer bowed, then left without another word, while Petyr frowned slightly, discerning the man's task with ease. He knew Detmer as a man large of shoulders and small of morals, which coupled with Cersei pouring money into his coffers made the man a blade she could use for dark deeds. If I have to guess, the number of royal bastards in this city is going to fall drastically soon. Petyr was proven correct in this guess the next day. But for now, he had his mind on other things.

Several hours later, as Cersei waited for news with all the calm she could muster, until she was told that her daughter was missing.

OOOOOOO

When the news reached him about his friend's death Ned was meeting with Brynden in the Mountain Honey once more. After Tyene's death he had taken to eating as many meals as possible out of the castle, more wary about poisons than assassins, which only increased after Alayaya helped them find the crossbowmen.

He was listening Brynden describe several places in the city where the mercenaries of unknown allegiance they had initially learned about from Alayaya were gathering when a runner from the Dragon Gate.

Hearing the news about Robert, Ned frowned angrily, sad yet also very worried. Their friendship had become so strained lately that the sadness he felt could not override his worry about the coming days.

For a moment Eddard wondered if this had been the awaited second attack from whoever had killed Tommy, or if the Queen had gotten wind somehow of what was going to happen when Robert returned. Still, he mused, I owe it to young Merry and to Tommen's memory to at least try to deal gently with Cersei if I can. But that does not mean I need to be an idiot about it.

He turned to Brynden. "Gather the men, I'll want our forces ready for open conflict within the hour. Send in a runner before you go, I wish to send a message to captain Woolfield."

"We won't be able to bring his men into the keep," Brynden warned. "Not unless you're willing to openly declare your regency immediately. The Lannisters and their supporters wouldn't allow us access if we came back with that large a force."

"I wouldn't bring them into the Red Keep in any event, the Lannister forces and those loyal to them would still outnumber us. No, we'll rally at the main Gold Cloak barracks. They have the men we'll need if this goes wrong, if we can trust them."

"Your work with them has been very good." Brynden admitted. "I think you could trust nearly all the new recruits frankly, the older hands will go the way the money pays them to. Who will you send to rally them while our own forces get ready?"

"Edmure, give him ten Riverrun men and tell him to go. He can speak with authority as heir of the Riverlands as well as my representative." Ned replied crisply, staring at the map laid out between them, nodding his head at the plan he had come up with. It would be a gamble, but if they ran into opposition, but it might work.

"Are you planning to confront the Queen?" Brynden asked softly his face showing his opinion on the matter easily.

"I owe it to young Merry and to the memory of Tommen to at least try." Ned said harshly. Plans made, he stood up picking up Ice, House Stark's Valyrian greatsword, from where it lay on the edge the table. "Honor demands it."

"Honor demands you stay alive!" Brynden said angrily, standing up himself and reaching forward to poke Ned in the chest over his armor. "Cersei is used to being Queen, if you remove Joffrey from power, if you name Stannis as heir, even if nothing else happens, the Queen will lose that power, and she won't stand for that."

"I still have to try."

"And if we return to the keep and find it closed to us already?"

"Then we will retreat to meet up with Edmure, and with the gold cloaks aid take the keep." Ned replied grimly. "I cannot in good conscience let the men and servants in the Tower there to be butchered at the Lannister's leisure."

The two men nodded, and over the next hour gathered their men from around the city, as well as interrupting Edmure in his playtime. The heir to the Riverlands had taken to visiting a different brothel every week. He had been helpful despite this penchant for the ladies in leading the training of the gold cloak recruits, those men who had joined up after Eddard had begun to clean up the city watch.

All told by the time Ned was ready to return to the Red keep he had seventy men with him. They were a mix of Riverrun and Winterfell men, but all of them were veterans, and all of them were loyal. Ser Jory led the Winterfell contingent, while Brynden led the Riverrun men.

Unfortunately the queen had her own plans. Their march was interrupted when a band of gold cloaks and shabby mercenaries came down the street towards them, about a hundred men all told. At their head rode Petyr, wearing the tabs of a Gold Cloak commander.

All around them the smallfolk began to scurry indoors or run away through the alleyways of the city, fearing what was about to happen though not yet knowing the cause. Others stopped as soon as they were off the main street, watching from corners or windows to see what was going to happen.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ned growled, pushing his way to the front of his men. Why do you block my way back to the Tower, Baelish?"

Petyr sighed faintly, keeping his real thoughts off his face with the ease of a lifetime spent in court of one sort or another. Damn it, I wish Cersei hadn't insisted I do this, I am not one for open warfare of any stripe, let alone this close to the front. Still, I was hardly in a position to refuse.

"Lord Stark." He said aloud, voice carrying to the watching crowd as well as to his own man and those following Lord start. "I am to apprehend you on charge of treason, to be brought before the Queen Regent. You have been found guilty of sowing sedition against the crown, of allying yourself with foreign influences, and plotting to take the crown yourself."

Eddard's eyes narrowed, and he loosened Ice in its sheath at his side. "You know," he said almost conversationally. "I never did trust you Littlefinger, I knew after hearing the details of what happened between my brother and you that I could never trust you, and everything Brynden or I have seen since coming to this pestilential city has proven that. Now here you are, betraying the crown and the law, all so you can bend over and kiss the golden ass of the Lannisters."

A wild, fey feeling had surged through Ned Stark. Now that open conflict was inevitable a part of him was eager for it to begin. His time in the world of politics had frayed his self-control even if he hadn't realized it before this, and Ned was eager to deal with something simple and easy to understand for a change. "I am going to march up to the Red Keep, and I am going to arrest the Queen." he said coolly. "If she had gone quietly, I would've been willing to prevent her dirty laundry from airing, but she has made her choice, and so have you. If you wish to stop me Petyr come ahead and try!"

"And what of your daughter? Or the lives of your retainers in the Tower of the Hand?" Petyr asked softly, still trying to play the part of a loyal man doing an odious task. "What of them?"

Petyr had expected that threat to completely disarm Ned, but instead Ned laughed harshly, his eyes hard and cold, knowing he might be consigning his people in the tower to death, but unwilling to be swayed away from his duty. Moreover, his daughter and perhaps the princess as well would be somewhere in the city now. He and his men had set that up well in advance, taking both of them out into the city once a day after Ned had received the news from the Citadel.

"The keep is ready for a siege, and has been for several days. And my daughter is none of your concern. I say again Petyr, either disperse your men, join me, or try to follow the queen's commands." Ned replied grimly.

Petyr sighed faintly then moved back through the column waving the men forward.

But Brynden and the men of House Stark hadn't been idle. Though they didn't have many archers with them, those they did had strung their bows while hiding behind their fellows. Now they raced forward past them, aiming down the street quickly loosing their arrows into the front column of Petyr's men from barely four house lengths away.

The first two ranks with Petyr were all on horse, but all this did was make them even easier targets for the archers, despite their desperate attempt to close the two house lengths between them and the archers. The first rank of them went down, mostly with horses shot out from under them and the second rank crashed into the downed men and horses, further tangling the column. The front four ranks of Petyr's forces didn't have time to reorganize themselves before the Northerners and Riverlanders hit them like a hammer.

Ned lead the charge, his cloak opening to show plate armor covering his chest and leggings, with a helmet on his head now which he had pulled on while the archers fired. Ice flashed out, cutting a gold cloak down before driving into a mercenary's chest, the steel of the blade easily punching through the other man's boiled leather armor. A backhanded sweep sliced into a mounted man's leg before he could lower his shield to block it, and that man screamed, falling off his sorely wounded horse, who bounded away.

Behind him Brynden speared another man, before cutting down a fourth while the street began to run red with blood. At the back of his column Petyr's eyes widened, backing away quickly, turning tail and leaving his men there. There on the streets of King's Landing, the battle for the crown began.

OOOOOOO

Unfortunately for Ned, he had not reckoned on his daughter's willful nature coupled with the depth of her infatuation with Joffrey. She had indeed been scheduled to leave the keep with Alayaya and Myrcella that afternoon but had refused to go, saying she wanted to spend lunch with Joffrey. The men Ned had left behind had been unable to come up with a reason to force her to go, since Ned had been careful to not even hint to his daughter the real reasons behind these daily excursions. They had still tried but Sansa had put her foot down, and ordered them all to leave her alone. They had however rung out of her that she would return to the Tower once the meal ended.

So it was that Alayaya, Myrcella, Ser Oakheart and their guards went into the city alone, none of them knowing the real reason behind these excursions. But Sansa was back in the tower when the Lannister men came calling mid-afternoon. Worse, thanks to Petyr's connivance and his own forces, the Lannisters had been able to concentrate their forces in the Red Keep on the tower of the Hand.

Ser Willowtree cursed as the door to the Tower was caved in by a hammer blow from a small battering ram. They hadn't expected that, really they hadn't expected the Lannisters to be willing to pay in lives what it would take to assault the tower rather than starve them out if it came to an open battle, but evidently the Lannisters had decided they had enough men to win through.

"Pull back!" he ordered, gesturing to his man, around forty men from Riverrun and every man from Winterfell that hadn't been with Ned. About sixty swords, but the Lannisters alone had over four hundred men in the Red Keep. He knew they were going to go down, it only was left to see how hard they went.

"I could wish I had gotten the servants out at least." He mused as he gripped his sword, racing after his men up the stairs to take position on the next landing, jumping over the first of many barricades of various sizes. "Or that Sansa had not proven so foolish! Stupid girl, she's going to get herself killed, and I can't do a damn thing about it!" While he had heard about secret passages in the Red Keep as a whole, the Tower didn't have any to the best of his knowledge, which was a pity, since he would have jumped at the chance of using them to get his lady out of here.

He barked a laugh, causing the men around him to look at him quizzically but he waved them off smirking through his beard. Ha, if I'm busy wishing for things, might as well wish that more of us were trained archers, or there were more of us at all! He only had about 15 men trained his archers, they would harvest a horrible toll if he could protect them, but…

Willowtree's thoughts broke off abruptly as the first of the Lannister men came up the stairs.

"Gut the Northerners!" the lead man roared, before falling back down the stairs, an arrow through his eye.

Willowtree nodded at the archer who stepped back promptly, pulling out another arrow from his quiver. "Good shot."

"Only fair" the man replied. "At this range I could hardly miss, now could I?"

That death seemed to dishearten the Lannister men for a few seconds, but then they came on all at once with a roar. Bowstrings twanged again from both sides, though the Lannister men couldn't shoot over their own troops or the barricade at the top of the stairs very well, while the men from Riverrun and Winterfell had moved through their own men for a moment. Ten men died under their arrows before they had to retreat backwards, and they took a position on the staircase leading upwards getting just enough headroom to shoot over their own men.

Ser Willowtree's sword bit into a man's chest, then he was nearly pushed off his feet by another man behind that one. There were more behind him and more racing into the tower.

"Die hard boys!" He yelled aloud, bringing his sword up into the gut of the second man before kicking him off into the body of a third while he brought his shield up to slam into the face of another man who had taken out the man standing in line next to him. "Die hard! Take as many of the gold fuckers with you as you can!"

OOOOOOO

Up in the tower Sansa shivered, staring around in horror. She had heard the outcry from several minutes ago, calling on the men from Winterfell to surrender, that her father was a traitor, but she couldn't understand it! The thought of anyone, anyone! Calling her father a traitor was beyond her understanding. It was as if they were simply talking a different language, or asking the sun to not shine. Her father was the most honorable man in the world! Why would anyone think he was a traitor?

But the Lannister men seemed to think so. She shivered, hearing the sound of combat echoing from far below. She clutched Jeyne's hand tightly, her friend doing the same to hers. Jeyne's face was just as white and terrified as Sansa's. Across from them sat septa Mordane, who had pulled out a long, wickedly sharp looking curved dagger from somewhere.

Royer Overton was an older man who had served in Winterfell for as long as Sansa could remember. Normally his jolly face and warm smile was a source of comfort, but now his face was grim as he stood by the top of the staircase leading into the suites at the top of the tower with two other men, the last line of defense for their lord's daughter. "I wish you had gone with the Princess, milady. We'll do our best, but…"

"I wish I had gone with them too Royer." Sansa said, her voice cracking.

Beside her Lady paced, growling continuously as the sound of battle reached her sensitive ears. Normally Lady gave off an almost dainty, pampered air, but that was in abeyance now, and she sharply reminded Sansa and Royer's men of Fenris just now, despite being barely a third the other direwolf's size. She was clearly ready to fight for her mistress, a sight that heartened the Northerners, though not enough to make them think that they would survive this.

OOOOOOO

Edmure was not well-pleased by the summons that pulled him out of the brothel he was currently 'assessing', until he actually read the message, that is. Then his irritation faded quickly, replaced by seriousness as he pulled on his sword belt. Pulling on his leggings Edmure mentally went over a map of the city, or at least the portions he had personally explored. I am about a good fifteen minutes jog I think from the nearest gold cloaks barracks. But isn't that one of the smaller stations, should I go for one of the gate posts, or try for the Red Keep's garrison?

He thought about it a moment as he pulled on his boots (priorities after all), then shook his head. Mud Gate and Dragon Gate are both under our control for the most part, we haven't weeded out all of the less desirables there, but we've done the majority of the job, and the men in command are Eddard's appointees. My brother-in-law has done a magnificent job there I have to admit, never thought I'd say it. But the gold cloaks in the Red Keep are too close to the Lannisters. So do I go where I can rally the troops easily, or where our men might need some stiffening?

By the time he pulled on his boots he had the answer and there were reports of open fighting having already begun in the city. Striding out of the brothel Edmure nodded to the ten men waiting for him. "You two," he ordered, looking at two men he knew used to have running contests back in Riverrun. "Split off and head to the gold cloak garrisons at Mud and Dragon Gate. Tell them that the Hand has evidence of treason by the Queen."

The full perfidy of the woman wouldn't be believed so quickly, but the Hand's supporters had been primed for something like this from the Lannisters or the vice faction for a while. "Tell the commanders to ignore any orders coming out of the palace, or from anyone but me. I'll be heading to the Garrison on the Street of the Sisters, then back to them with the garrison there."

That was the largest garrison of gold cloaks anywhere in the city, fully five-hundred men were stationed there at all times to keep the peace in the richer districts around it, centered around the Great Septa of Baelor the Street of Steel and other rich streets. With them plus the Mud gate and Dragon gate garrisons, each of which comprised another two-hundred men, Edmure would have nearly half of the gold cloaks in the city under his command, then would move on to each of the other garrisons one at a time to add them to his number.

So long as my uncle and brother-in-law can keep from being skewered long enough, I can bring in the forces to end this in our favor. With that he strode off quickly breaking out into a trot with the eight men that remained behind him.

He arrived in the Street of the Sisters quickly, running through that entrance to the garrison before the two guards always on duty outside could stop him, breathing deeply but easily. He was in decent shape, his father had never had anything to say to him about not training his body, just what else he used his body for. "You." he said pointing at a random gold cloak. "Take me to your commander."

Two minutes later he stood in front of Allar Deem, the current gold cloak commander. He was a supporter of the old commander, Janos Slynt, who had been sent to the Wall several weeks ago along with the consignment of death row inmates, and several hundred containers of alchemists fire and seven alchemists. Ned hadn't been able to remove him from command however, because they hadn't been able to pin anything on him, unlike Slynt.

Despite this Edmure didn't trust Deem, and kept one hand on the hilt of his sword as he explained the situation. "So I'm commanding you to prepare your men to march out, we're going to rally the gold cloaks, and then we're going to arrest the Queen."

Allar Deem nodded gravely. "Very well, I'll get the orders out right now." he nodded to two men nearby, who ran out the door while Allar stood up, pouring himself a glass of wine from a very expensive looking decanter. "Would you join me in a glass to celebrate our impending victory?"

Edmure shook his head, everyone in the Tower had become very leery of taking anything from anyone they didn't trust, most particularly food or drink. "I'll drink to our victory after we've actually won."

"Suit yourself." Allar replied, gulping back the extremely expensive wine like it was so much swill. He then put it down, and made for the door with Edmure following them.

"I'm glad you responding so promptly." Edmure said, watching the other man closely.

Allar Deem slowed, smiling thinly. "I must say I was ready for something like this for a while, and I know what side of the bread my butter is on."

Edmure frowned at that, but couldn't put his finger on what about that statement was setting off warning bells in his mind. Soon they had exited out into the training yard of the garrison, where the garrison had gathered, armed and ready.

Yet Edmure saw something else that stopped him cold, his hand whipping it to his sword. He turned, his blade out and seeking Allar's throat, but he had already dodged away to the left after locking the door into the garrison's interior behind him. "Traitor!"

"That would be you, actually, I have a royal proclamation stating that as fact." Jaime Lannister said smiling thinly from where he had been leaning against the wall of the training area, with twenty Lannister armsmen around him. Without further warning he darted forward, trying to close with Edmure but Edmure backed away quickly, and the men behind him pulled out their own weapons and circled around protecting them from all sides.

From several yards away, Allar Deem smiled thinly drawing his own sword. It didn't look nearly as well cared for as Jaime's, but it was still sharp enough. "I told you I knew which side of the bread my butter was on, I even told you that I had been ready for something like this for a while. Did you really think I would follow the Hand over the Queen?"

Edmure looked wildly around for an escape route, but instead he noticed a lot of frowning faces on the gathered garrison, which suddenly gave him an idea. "Men of King's Landing!" he bellowed, pointing his sword past one of his guard's shoulders at Jaime Bannister. "That man and his sister have committed treason against the crown, Prince Joffrey isn't legitimate! The Queen hasn't given birth to a legitimate heir to the throne!"

Jaime scowled, racing forward with his armsmen behind him.

But Edmure backed away, letting his men do the fighting as he appealed to the watching gold cloaks. "Will you allow that to stand?! Will you allow the family that sacked King's Landing, that have betrayed not one but two Kings to retain their power?! Will you let things go back to the way they were before Lord Stark began his crusade here the city? Do you like being reviled by the very people you are supposed to protect? Or will you make a stand, and began to win back the honor that those cloaks on your back should show?! Stand with us!" he bellowed.

Then Edmure was forced to defend himself from Jaime, who had cut two of his men down with ease. Edmure backed away, he was only a decent swordsman, but he was quick and light on his feet and he was able to duck aside for now, using the larger melee around them to keep his distance from the Kingslayer.

Many of the gold cloaks looked at one another, and several dozen of them raised their weapons. Two were struck down by their fellows, who were quite happy for things to go back the way they were, but a surprising amount of the others took this is as a sign to pull out their own weapons and begin to fight one another. This pitted new recruits against old hands, Lannister followers against house Stark supporters, in the smallest, and one of the bloodiest civil wars in history.

Soon enough the melee became general. As packed as they were in the training area, several hundred died in the next twenty minutes. While this was going on Edmure continued to evade Jaime, trying desperately to get away, using the crowd of gold cloaks as obstacle. The last of his men wasn't so lucky. He went down to join his fellows, struck in the back by someone wielding a mace.

Edmure didn't make it to the set of double-doors leading out into the city. Jaime forced his way through the melee to the other man trapping Edmure against the wall. Jaime smashed Edmure's sword aside with his own before bringing the flat of it around slamming into the side of Edmure's head. Even wearing a helmet that blow concussed Edmure, sending him boneless to the ground.

"Damnit." Jaime muttered. "I didn't expect Edmure to think that fast on his feet." He looked around growling angrily before grabbing Deem with one arm. "Get your men under control damn you!"

Allar Deem now looked a little frightened by the violence all around him, but nodded his head, more frightened of the Kingslayer. He started to bellow commands, slowly bringing order back with the help of the Lannister supporters killing any of the Stark supporters inside. Three dozen of them however clumped together either by design or chance were able to win through to the exit of the Garrison and out into the streets, rushing to spread the word about what had happened.

Jaime shook his head Looking around, seeing dozens, hundreds of dead bodies everywhere. The garrison training field had become an abattoir in the past half-hour as the gold cloaks turned on one another with a savagery he had seldom seen before. "Damn Deem, he should've been able to control his men better. There goes any chance of winning this quickly…"

OOOOOOO

it was no secret that there were several dozen men in the Tower of the Hand among the armsmen and servants that had become infatuated with Alayaya and not the kind of infatuation where they would like to buy her affections, but would actually like to win them. Mattimeo was one of these, and he was one of the least 'experienced' as well. He became tongue-tied and there was a perpetual flush on his face whenever the former courtesan was around him. So this assignment as leader of the princess's bodyguard as she went into the city had been sort of a mixed blessing.

Alayaya thought it cute, but Mattimeo wasn't nearly as confident as she liked her men to be, nor quite frankly as intelligent. She wouldn't have minded laying with him, he was a decent looking young lad, but she was making a efforts to leave that world behind, and so did never did anything that encouraged or discouraged him. Made fun of him lightly, yes, but that was at all in good fun.

"I don't know, while red might be the color of your mother's family Myrcella, I'm just not certain it will favor your complexion in the future." She murmured holding up a dress against her body, deliberately not looking at either of Arys Oakheart or Mattimeo who were standing behind her at just that moment, no doubt imagining the rather short and low-cut silk dress on her.

Really whoever thought celibacy was a good idea for a fighting force was an idiot, she thought to herself looking at Oakheart's expression in the large, very expensive mirror this shop boasted. She could easily see where his eyes were concentrating, the same place they did every time she gave him the opportunity. I know I have, what did that one rather crude but sweet client from several months back put it, an 'ass that could launch a thousand ships', but still, this is a little too much.

"The Queen might be naturally pale, but you already are slightly more tanned than she is, that could become permanent in the future. We need to find something that mixes Lannister red or gold with Baratheon black or yellow in such a way that it matches your own complexion."

"That sounds more like something Joffrey would want to wear, I'd rather wear something completely unrelated to either family if I can get away with it, making political statements in what clothing I wear gets old over time." Myrcella replied, smiling politely at one of the dressmakers who were measuring her, who smiled back. She'd recently begun a growth spurt, and had actually begun to develop a real chest! She hoped it would continue to do so, and that by the time Ranma returned, which Myrcella had no doubt he would, she would look the part of a young lady rather than a young girl.

Still, a man working in this establishment had struck her as bizarre when they arrived, but Wade was apparently an up and coming couturier in the city, and 'as bent as a banana' according to a few of the guards, whatever that meant. Still, he didn't seem to look at her as anything more than a breathing mannequin, which was actually reassuring to the young princess.

"I wish Sansa had decided to join us, I love these little trips, this is so much more fun than staying in the keep." Her lessons had been rather boring of late, and there was the fact that she didn't want to be anywhere near Joffrey, which meant she couldn't be around her mother either.

Joffrey is playing the dutiful son so very well these days, she thought to herself rage and grief warring in her mind. If only mother could see it, but no one will believe me, no one will believe what I've seen in him, what he admitted to me. That thought was foremost in her mind practically every day, she wanted to confide in someone, but who? I need Ranma back dammit, he'd know what to do!

That was a familiar refrain, but at the present moment there was nothing she could do about that except worry, and she actually had come to enjoy being around Alayaya. The former courtesan had a truly wicked sense of humor, and no man was safe from her pointed comments, yet she was also kind and gentle, and performed her duties as handmaiden admirably. She also had a sense of fashion that even Sansa respected despite the Stark girl's misgiving about her low-class birth, and was a very good seamstress as well.

She spent a nice time with Alayaya trying on various dresses, ordering several sets to be delivered to the Red Keep later that day. When they exited the shop however Mattimeo stopped, frowning and looking around as did Ser Oakheart and Mattimeo's four men squad. Myrcella looked up at Arys quizzically. "Is something wrong?"

In the distance some town crier was shouting. "The King is dead! The King is dead! The Queen Regent declares martial law! Lord Stark and all his men are considered traitors!"

The man from Winterfell looked at one another in shock, wondering if this was possibly why the princess and Sansa had been encouraged to leave the Red Keep on a daily basis. They had all been told to expect something the past few days, and what to do in case anything should actually occur while guarding Sansa and the princess, but the King's death? That came at them out of left field.

Damnit, Mattimeo thought. He wasn't an officer, nor was he a knight so he hadn't been let in on the fact that Ned had evidence that the Queen had committed treason, or that he might be moving against her soon. Ned had hoped to handle it quietly as possible, simply removing the Queen and her children in a manner that would save face, so hadn't told many people about the evidence against Cersei so as to keep the rumors down. But Robert's death had thrown those plans out the water.

"What is this about?" said Oakheart, his sword in his hand and pointing at Mattimeo as he glared around at the other armsmen. "Is this why Sansa and the Princess have been going out every day, so you can get them away from the Red Keep?"

Mattimeo held up his hands. Yes that had been the reason, but it was only supposed to be a preventive measure, so he didn't see the point of saying so right now. "Hold on, we have no idea what's going on, but do you honestly think that Lord Stark would commit treason?"

"Of course not!" Myrcella said sharply getting between the two men and staring her bodyguard down. "Put up your sword Ser Oakheart, these are good men, and Lord Stark has been nothing but gentle and honest since the day I met him. The idea of anyone accusing him of treason is simply idiotic!"

"Even if it's your own mother doing it as that crier said?" asked the knight looking down at her sternly, but Myrcella could tell that he was wavering. More than a Kingsguard, Oakheart had become her guard, only very rarely spelled during the day by Sir Moore or her uncle Jaime, and Myrcella fondly imagined that she had a greater connection to him than any of the other Kingsguard had to any of their royal charges.

"I don't think my mother would do that, I can't say that someone couldn't do it in her voice however. But regardless we need to deal with our own situation. Do you think we should head back to the Red Keep? If Lord Stark is being accused of treason there might be open fighting there, should we find someplace else?" Myrcella asked, trying to think of what to do in as mature a manner as possible.

A sudden shout at the end of the street caught all of their attention, causing Oakheart to turn away from Mattimeo though he still held his sword in his hand. Several men had gathered at the end of the street shouting at one another, arguing about what was going on while the women and children hustled inside all around them. The small folk of King's Landing had all too much experience in what could happen in the wake of a king's death.

"Hah! Fancy anyone believing that Lord Stark would commit treason! He's a rock, the honor of the Starks has been trusted for centuries even here in the South! Hasn't he done enough to prove himself in this city? No, it has to be a Lannister plot!

"I hear there's open fighting over on The Winding Way, and Gold Cloaks were seen fleeing from their own garrison near the High Sept of Baelor. It'll spread, mark my words." Said another man. "The king's dead, that means scum of all sort will be coming out of the woodwork."

Ser Oakheart sheathed his sword shaking his head. "We need to get the Princess back to the keep, I don't know what orders you have in case of emergency, but that is the only thing I will willingly do."

Mattimeo frowned, then shrugged. "We can try, but if we can't, we'll need to think of another plan". If Sansa was there, he would have simply taken command and forced them to follow the actual strategy they had been ordered to, which was to make their way down to the docks, but she wasn't. And there was a chance, no matter how slim, that they could get back to keep and find that everything was over by the time they got there. Plus Oakheart was sort of a friend, and Mattimeo didn't want to fight him, not if he could help it.

They barely made two blocks before they ran into a large gang of smallfolk, breaking windows and attacking a small band of five gold cloaks. "Down with the Lannister, no more burning! Not again!"

Before the group could back away and try another route they were spotted. "Look!" one of the rioters shouted pointing at them. "It's one of the royals, the little Lannister bitch! Get her!"

"Shit!" Matt muttered pulling out his sword and pulling his shield off his back. "Your highness, Alayaya, get behind us!" He looked around pointing it towards an alleyway. "Thomas, check if that has another exit, move backwards but don't run, not yet."

The man so named ran over to the alleyway while the rioters surged towards them. One of Mattimeo's other men raised his crossbow. Clifton Snow was a bastard from near the border between Cerwyn and Stark lands, and had a decent eye for anything long range, be it a thrown spear, sling, or bow. The crossbow had cost a month's pay, an expense to be sure, but he wanted to see if a crossbow was any better than a bow.

Clifton's first bolt took the foremost rioter in the neck, throwing the man backwards in a welter of blood. His fellows roared in anger and came on even faster.

The armsmen fell back, and the others readied themselves while behind them Myrcella clung to Alayaya, frightened by the look in the oncoming man's eyes. Something about it reminded her of Ser Trent, only far worse, and there were so many of them…

Thomas came back shouting. "It's got another exit, over here!"

"Good, Clifton at the back with me and Arys, everyone else in front, the ladies in between, move!" Mattimeo turned quickly pushing Myrcella and Alayaya towards the other man.

They barely entered the alley way in front of the first of the rioters, who came on, their targets still in sight. Thus began an interminable hour of simply running away, the armsmen always placing themselves between the two girls and their pursuers as they raced through the jumble of alleyways that was the majority of the city. They killed several rioters when they caught up a few times, and eventually were able to throw the whole band off the scent.

Finally Mattimeo called a halt, pulling up level with Myrcella and Alayaya, who was surprisingly fast on her feet. "Do you know where we are?" he asked, gasping. He wore boiled leather armor as all of his men, so the run hadn't been that strenuous for them, no, his gasping was more because Alayaya had sweat quite a bit, and her clothing was now sticking to her body like a second skin in some places.

Oakheart however was gasping because he was already tired. He was clad in the uniform of a White Cloak, which was medium plate armor. Still he was in good enough shape and would recover quickly if given the opportunity.

Alayaya looked around, before ducking to the side through a small cut made between two houses that looked as if they had fallen into one another from the second floor down. She moved through it, then around two buildings before getting back to a main street she recognized. She looked around then raced back. "We nearly went in a full circle, we're near to the main market district, well away from a straight line route to the Red Keep."

Mattimeo cursed. "Not good, those rioters might be anti-Lannister, but I bet that most will be more looters than anything else. The merchant district will attract them like a lodestone attracts iron."

He tried to imagine a mental map of the city, without much success alas. He hadn't made any attempts to explore it, not being one of the men who reveled in the pleasures available here. "Do you think you can lead us to the wharfs?"

"We need to get back to the Red Keep." Arys said sternly. Having caught his breath, he was now eyeing Mattimeo and the others suspiciously. "The wharf will to take us well out of our way. Why do you want to go there anyway?"

"I was thinking we could appeal to one of the Navy cutters there for sanctuary while all this blows over. Let's face it, we don't have enough men here to forge our way back to the keep if rioters like that are everywhere." Mattimeo lied glibly.

Oakheart frowned but eventually nodded.

"That's actually a good idea." he said nodding his head in apology for his tone.

"Alayaya?" Mattimeo asked looking back at Summer Island girl.

"Yes I can, it won't be easy, we'll be moving through an area that's almost as bad as Flea Bottom in its own way, but we can do it."

"Lead the way." said Oakheart, nodding his head over to Myrcella who nodded as well. She had taken to running in the mornings as exercise, so this hadn't actually been that difficult for her just yet. It would, however, get much worse in the next few hours.

OOOOOOO

Ned watched the runner go sprinting off through the city with mixed feelings. He hoped the runner made it, but at the present moment he couldn't quite say that he had much expectation of that. Still, captain Woolfield was a good man, and would no doubt be ready for anything, so his plan, his desperate gamble, had a chance of working.

With the Queen preempting him like this, and with no word coming back from Edmure about the gold cloaks Ned had been forced to assume that the gold cloaks at the very most were no longer a factor for either side. That meant he would have to rely on his own forces, including the men about the Fish's Scales. Still, if the Lannisters don't know about them and I've never seen any sign that they do, those men will come as a nasty shock to them and might well win the day.

He finished cleaning Ice from the ichor of the latest battle and looked up at Brynden. "Ready to move out?"

The older man nodded, looking at the men around them. They haven't lost any in that initial clash, something that Brynden put down to their training and the fact that the Winterfell men had led the way. Some of them were very damn good warriors, certainly far better than gold cloaks of the run-of-the-mill mercs at any rate. Training with my nephew seemingly has paid quite a few dividends. He mused, nodding his head over at the squad leader who was in charge of the five men who were leading the way at present. "Move out."

The group made their way through the city, sticking to alleyways for the most part, forcing their enemies to hunt them.

Soon however one of the squads on their back trail sent a runner up to where Ned and Brynden were in the loose column. "Sir, we've sighted several dozen mercenaries trying to close with us from the side. But our squad leader has found a place where we might be able to ambush them, should we do that or just try to outrun them?"

Ned didn't hesitate. "All squad leaders are to act as they can offensively. I have no idea where we are or the layout of the city so I'm going to have to trust your eyes and ears." He said formally looking around at the men around him at present all of whom smiled and passed the word along.

Five minutes later they had assembled about half their men, hiding behind several broken down carts in what looked like an area that had just begun to be used for refuse. Over three dozen men wearing the makeshift armor and the lean, hungry look of down on their luck mercenaries raced through.

With Brynden and Ser Jory sitting on him Ned was forced to back away from the ambush site, so again he had to leave it to his men to decide when to spring the trap. Jory timed it perfectly, leaping up over one of the down carts to slice a man's back open, shouting "Now, up and at them!"

The men surged up and over the carts, coming in close and cutting the mercenaries down before many could even raise their weapons. It was almost too easy how quickly they went down, but that was what surprise did for an attacker when a properly executed trap was sprung.

Afterwards Ned looked down at the bodies nodding grimly. We'll need to kill as many of these men as we can, and the city is made for the small ambushes. He looked over at Brendan. "We need to keep moving in a circular fashion towards the wharfs, but I want us to kill as many of these men as possible, while we do it, so if any squad leader finds incoming enemies or a place to set up an ambush, we will take advantage of it."

"We'll start lose our own men soon." Brynden warned.

Ned's face was carved from stone, matching his voice. "I know."

OOOOOOO

Willowtree grunted, his sword almost getting stuck in his opponent's chest for a moment before he was able to wrench it out. His arms felt like lead. Despite all the exercise they had been doing and despite before the fact that they had been able to rotate their troops thanks to the relatively narrow confines of the tower's stairwell, he and most of his men were near to exhaustion right now.

On the other side of the scale, they were taking a bloody toll on the Lannister forces. Willowtree estimated that he had lost about half his men so far, and they had accounted for at least four times that many attackers possibly as much as five. The narrow confines of the tower, the better training of the defenders, the fact that they had fallen back into prepared positions (makeshift barricades and small firetraps) it had all added up.

"And it's not going to be enough." he said to himself sighing resignedly. Maybe if our full complement had been here, we could've held out at the bottom, but the moment they pushed us to the third floor there were other stairwells up for the next two. Willowtree had lost maybe a third of his dead when they were forced to retreat to another position on the sixth floor, which only had a single stairwell leading up. That continued for the rest of the Tower, thankfully, so they would be able to bleed the bastards even worse from now on.

Yet even so, while this wasn't their last line of defense they no longer had access to the kitchens or the larder, though they had managed to herd most of the servants ahead of them. If the Lannisters only held where they were, they could starve the Northerners out. Of course, he thought to himself shaking his head, they don't seem to have the patience for that. And they've still got more than enough men to finish us off.

He looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder and found his friend, Lucas Lake staring at him. Lucas Lake had been his friend nearly since the moment he joined Lord Stark's guard, the fourth son of that family, which held lands along the western border of House Umber. He was a large man, who was habitually silent, but he spoke up now. "You've done your best. All we can do is our duty."

"I know, I just wish that Sansa wasn't here! If not, we might have possibly tried to break out get to the horses and out of the keep entire."

"We would have been cut down in the open if we tried. Besides, I doubt we…" Lucas broke off as more Lannister men pounded up the steps towards them.

OOOOOOO

Out in the city after that initial clash, the battle had begun to be one of ambush and movement rather than the grinding warfare that was occurring up in the tower.

Jaime was a decent tactician, and had devised his initial tactics well. His first attack had captured Edmure killing his Riverrun guardsmen and though he hadn't intended it, killing many of the gold cloak recruits who would have responded to the Hand's request for aid. It also cut off Ned from any attempt to advance on the keep lest he be encircled. He now controlled the keep and many of the high-class areas of the city, at least in name.

That however was as far as his grasp of strategy and tactics could take him. Jaime had never commanded a battle in a city before this, and as anyone would tell you, city fighting was among the bloodiest and worst fighting that anyone could see. Numbers tended to be mitigated in the war of small alleyways, hidden doorways and shanty houses of the poorer districts.

Worse, he couldn't pin Ned down. Eddard and Brynden were moving through the city rather than trying to stop in any one area, and they were doing it better than Jaime's forces. This problem was made worse by two things. The first was that his troops didn't have the same level of organization that Ned's did, though he only had a vague idea of how badly he was outmatched there.

Like the Winterfell and Hornwood men Daryn had led in the ambush the wildlings sprang on him, the men of Lord Stark's personal guard had been organized into five-man squads, with each looking towards a squad leader who relayed commands and kept order. They all worked together smoothly, with very little need after a few hours to even check in with Eddard. This had led to several of his squads being mousetrapped, boxed into alleyways that didn't allow them to use their superior numbers by much smaller groups of Northerners.

Eddard had taken it further. As they were moving through a city if one group or another saw either that they were about to walk into an ambush or a place to set an ambush, Ned had given them leeway to do so, so long as they checked in first.

Coupled with their individual training which Ranma had seen to over the past few months this made the Northerners and their allies equal to any force three times their size. None of the Riverrun men were as good as Ser Jory and the contingent from Winterfell that had trained with Ranma back home as often as they could, but they were better than the normal run of armsmen. Eddard He was using the men from Riverrun as runners and extra shock troops feeding them into any battle where he needed them, leaving the scouting and most of the combat to his Winterfell armsmen.

The second problem was even worse than that however.

In large areas of the city there were roving gangs of smallfolk, many of whom were simple looters using this chaos as an opportunity for profit. But many were not, instead they were looking for anyone with a Lannister uniform or anyone else. They couldn't battle larger groups of troops, not in a straight fight anyway, but they could harass, throwing bricks or anything that came to hand, and had picked off dozens, possibly hundreds of his men, disappearing in the chaos of the city.

It hadn't even been twenty years since the city had been sacked by Jaime's father and his forces when they turned on Mad King Aerys. There were places still bore the marks of that battle, and there were thousands of families in the city that had lost people to the swords of the Lannisters. Normally the smallfolk would be too downtrodden to act against the Lannisters, especially since they were connected to the king, who despite being a drunkard was well thought of by most of the smallfolk, who credited him with getting rid of the Mad King. Now however, these people rose up to back the Hand who had done so much in the city to cut back on the noble's abuse of power in the city.

The entire city was embroiled in chaos now. There were very few safe zones, and Jaime was close to losing the bubble entirely, losing control of the flow of the battle. The navy crews had all pulled up oars and moved away, retaining the neutrality that was their calling card without the Master of Ships or the King around to command their loyalty.

And the gold cloaks were no help at all to either side. While Jaime had shut down the largest gold cloak garrison in the city, the rest were in the midst of a civil war of their own. Those who backed the anticorruption reforms of Lord Stark were fighting desperately against the old hands who wanted everything to go back to the way they had been.

Surprisingly in the rank-and-file the ones backing Lord Stark outnumbered those who wanted the old order to return, but they were not as well led or organized. That battle was seesawing back and forth in nearly every garrison, and was very bloody, with a lot of old and new scores being settled.

In the Mud Gate however, Jaime had been forced to send the men from this garrison under Deem to combat the men there. Jacelyn Bywater was an honorable man who had long hated the amount of corruption in the gold cloak ranks, a veteran who had earned his knighthood from Robert in the Greyjoy rebellion. He had command of the Mud Gate, and nearly the entire garrison would have gone over to the Starks if Jaime hadn't boxed them in with Deem's men. That battle was probably the bloodiest in the city right now.

Jaime had no idea how it would go, but he felt his family's supporters had the edge overall. Along with sending Deem to the Mud Gate he had sent Gundar Pyle, Lord of the minor House of Pyle in the Crownlands, with two knights and twenty armsmen to aid his side in the other garrisons, moving from one to another, adding the men in each to his ready forces.

He rubbed his face angrily. "Dammit, this isn't the kind of fight I'm built for." He had warned his sister this might happen if they didn't wait until Lord Stark had returned to the keep. Yet Cersei had feared Stark's ability to rally the Gold Cloaks, a fear that had been justified apparently. That left the single largest (numerically speaking) force in the city out of it. Though the second largest seemed to be following his orders, though its presence hadn't been something he even had a hint of before the battle began.

"And that's something we're going to talk about later, Baelish, you little snake." Jaime murmured to himself, looking at a map of the city.

It was a decent map, at least it marked out all the major roads and quite a few of the alleyways in the upper sections of the city, but it was nowhere near complete. On it was marked where his patrols had run into issues with the smallfolk, as well as where they had reported clashes with the men under Lord Stark. There were also several marks where mercenaries who, according to them, answered to the Master of Coin had joined in even without his first ordering them.

I don't know how Lord Stark is doing it, keeping control of his troops as well as he is and still moving through the city! But Petyr having such a large force on hand in the city is dangerous as hell, he must have had at least a thousand men all told! Not very good mercenaries for the most part, but a thousand is still a thousand. Though thankfully, that number has shrunk badly over the last few hours.

Jaime smirked at that. He had been pushing the mercenaries into the battle every time he could, and their losses had been much worse in those of his own men or the Lannister supporters outside of the gold cloak barracks, which again Jaime looked at as an expendable resource.

Of course, our losses taking the Tower will probably make up for that. Jaime thought sardonically looking over to where the Red Keep loomed above his command post on the Street of Sisters. I do not envy our men trying to pry the Starks out of there.

He growled angrily, pushing away from the table as he stood up abruptly. "Enough, I'm not doing anyone any good here! You!" he growled looking over at one of the men who had been bringing in reports. "Where was the latest sighting of Lord Stark?"

After being told the answer, Jaime left with a band of fifty Lannister men, heading in an attempt to try and circle around Ned's position. He just missed a messenger coming down from his sister about her missing daughter.

OOOOOOO

The battle for the tower was over. Ser Willowtree knew it, and that knowledge was bitter in his mouth despite the fact he had seen it coming even before the battle was joined. Now only Adam, Lucas and four others remained alive outside Royer and his men on the top floor. Nine men were all that stood between the daughter of their sworn Lord and the blades of the Lannisters.

It was a bitter thought, made worse by knowing that the servants of the Tower that they had been protecting had probably been slaughtered by this point as they were forced to retreat to stay between the attackers and the top floor. He had personally seen several of them, including Vayon Poole, the majordomo, cut down.

The old man took his killer with him though with a massive meat knife he had taken from somewhere, slamming it into the soldier's neck even as the man's sword took Vayon in the guts. That had filled Willowtree with pride, but the screams of the maids had nearly overridden his self-control. He had lost five men at that point who had raced down to battle the reavers, and been surrounding and slaughtered in the Hand's council room.

"But we cost them." Lucas said, as if reading his mind. "We cost them sore, Adam Willowtree and no man could have asked for better."

A younger Riverrun man standing nearby scowled irritably, twanging the bowstring of a bow he had picked up along the way. "I just wish that bastard Joffrey had worked up enough courage to come forward! I'd only need one shot!"

They had seen the crown prince a time or two as the battle went on coming forward to harangue his troops, though it was possible he had been there all along, or even ordered the all-out assault in the first place. He never came near to the front, but made certain that everyone could see that he was there and 'taking part'.

"Tough luck on that lad," growled another man, a grizzled veteran from Riverrun. He was holding one arm awkwardly, and was bleeding from somewhere underneath his chain mail, but then again all of them were dealing with various injuries. "That little waste of shit doesn't have the courage to actually join the fight. He might break a nail or something."

That caused a rough round of laughter among the others, and the younger man smiled. "I just wish I was going to be around to see Lord Stark storming up here."

Adam said nothing while the others agreed with that, he had his own ideas about what was going on in the city at large. He had taken the time during one of the lulls in the action to look out a window and had seen fires in the city. Whatever had happened it was clear that their Lord was busy. No help was going to arrive to save the day.

He turned as the noise from the staircase leading down signaled that the Lannister men were coming up again. The survivors of the battle up to this point had become veterans of storming up staircases into defended positions. They came in groups of seven men with space between each group.

The first seven men ran up in step wearing plate armor heavy helmets and with shields above their heads to protect against blows from the top of the stairs. Their job was not to kill the defenders, but to push or hack away at the makeshift barricade at the top of the stairs. Four of the seven men died doing it, but they hacked the large table that was the centerpiece of the barricade into chunks, letting the next wave of attackers hack at the barricade or the defenders on the other side. This method had worked before, though as always losses among the first groups of attackers was heavy.

Adam found himself pushed back by the rush of Lannister men, barreling the remains of the barricade backwards so they could clear the staircase. He saw that interspersed with the swordsmen were others, who were now wielding truncheons. Even while he ran one through with his sword, that sight caused Adam to frown.

To his left a truncheon slammed Lucas to the floor with an overhand blow to the head which dented his helmet and sent his man senseless to the ground. They're trying to capture us now! Adam realized with a start. But why the sudden change? For some reason he knew it wasn't a good sign.

He twisted quickly, trying to evade a sword thrust toward his stomach. It skittered along his chain mail leaving a bruise to add to his collection but not penetrating. Around him the last of his men fell unconscious or dead he didn't know. But the Northern knight fought on, killing two more Lannister men before a whirling piece of wood slammed into his face knocking him senseless to the floor. The last he saw was the same man raising his club again to bring it crashing down on his head.

OOOOOOO

The sound of combat had gotten closer and closer as the day wore on, and Royer had ordered the girls into Ranma's room, along with Lady. The direwolf hadn't wanted to go, but Sansa had convinced her, tears in her eyes at the knowledge of how many men, men she had known all her life, were dying.

Royer and his men stood by the staircase, waiting grimly. They knew that the battle below was over, and they knew that meant Ser Willowtree and all the others were dead. But they were determined to do their duty as best they could.

The barricade here was less impressive than most, the furniture of the family suites having gone to earlier barricades. Because of this and there only being four defenders, the initial rush was almost able to clear them away on its own, but not quite. More Lannister men fell, with Royer talking the first man's head clean off, but the damage was already done. The men of Winterfell found themselves losing ground almost immediately.

Royer and his men were fresh, determined and well trained, and they wreaked a bloody toll on the exhausted attackers. But the Lannister armsmen still outnumbered them five to one. Once out of the staircase's confinement, the battle ended quickly, with each man isolated, then cut down or knocked out.

Royer had lost his helmet, but he had a thick head, and shook off the blow of one man's truncheon to take his arm off at the elbow in return. The pommel of his blade then hammered into the face of another man, before he found himself tackled a third. He brought the side of his shield down on that man's neck right below his helmet, breaking it, but he still lost his feet under the man's rush.

He kicked out, trying to take a man in the knees, throwing the dead man's body off him at the same time, but a blade snaked in, taking him in his side and punching through his chain mail there. Royer flailed his blade, catching a man on the leg, causing enough damage to cripple him, while around him, his men went down, dead or comatose. A second later, another blade caught him in the face, and Royer knew no more.

When the last defender fell, there was a sudden moment of silence as the survivors of the assault looked at one another, all of them weary nearly to the point of collapse. One of them, a knight of House Lannister, rubbed blood from his face wearily, shaking his head in bemused wonder. "If this is victory, Seven save us from losing." He had no idea how many men they had lost in this battle, but he didn't doubt they had lost possibly two-thirds of the men they had started with.

Another man in Lannister colors snarled. "I thought the princess and the Stark bitch and their little whore were supposed to be here. Where are they?"

A third man wordlessly pointed to the closed and presumably bolted door leading into one of the bedrooms. All of the men there looked at one another, as if debating who would open the door. After a moment one of them, the youngest there who was a little more hotheaded than the others, strode forward. Setting his shoulder against the door he slammed his body into it.

Unlike the doors further down the Tower, the ones in the Hand's quarters had never been intended to stop someone forcing their way in. It only took him five body slams to smash the door open. That however was when things went wrong for the young armsman.

The moment the door had been forced partially open, Lady, worked into a frenzy from the sounds of battle the smell of blood in the air and her bonded's fear, pounced. Her jaws latched onto the young man's throat, tearing it out as she bore him to earth. Not lingering on her kill she jumped away, taking another man by the leg and mauling it badly before she had to fall back from the sword points of several others.

"Just kill the unnatural thing already!" shouted one man, waving his sword back and forth to ward off Lady when she turned her head to keep him in sight.

"NO!" Sansa shouted, rushing out and trying to get to her pet, leaving Jeyne behind. "Don't kill her!"

"Why the hell should we listen to the daughter of a traitor like you, you little wolf bitch!" said one of the men, reaching forward to grab her.

"You take that back!" Sansa snarled. Suddenly her anger at all this overrode her fear, and she lashed out, catching the unwary man with a kick to the crotch that sent him gasping to his knees.

Septa Mordane surprisingly joined the battle too, moving quickly with her curved dagger to plunge it into the side of an armsman who had turned to grab Sansa. She was killed almost instantly though by another man running her through with his sword. At the same time another man grabbed Sansa from behind, raising his truncheon to pummel her to the ground.

He in turn was borne to the ground by Lady, her jaws searching for his throat. But the direwolf wasn't able to get away fast enough to avoid a sword thrust into her side. She snarled in agony, turning quickly enough to catch the swordsman's arm, biting it clear off at the elbow, but another sword came down on her neck, cutting deeply into it. Her spine severed by that blow Lady collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

"NO!" Sansa yelled in anguish, rushing forward, again, only to be grabbed by another man and flung to the floor.

Jeyne now tried to run forward to help her friend, but found herself grabbed similarly by two men. "Hah, at least we can end the battle on a high note!" One of them laughed, then began to tear off her dress, causing her to scream.

"That's enough!" shouted a voice behind them, more shrill than commanding, but it was a voice all of the men there knew. Joffrey strode up the stairs with Ser Trant, Ser Moore and Ser Blount. The young man's eyes were alight with something Sansa could not make out, but his gaze was stern as he looked at the men who had ahold of her. "Whatever her father has done, Lady Sansa is still my fiancé, and Jeyne is her handmaiden, you would all do best to remember that."

The men all grumbled a little, but let the two girls go. "I am sorry about all this," Joffrey said looking at his bride-to-be. "You are looking well, despite this unpleasantness." He looked over at the wolf, hiding his delight in the beast's death easily. "I am sorry I was not in time to save Lady."

The words brought Sansa some comfort, though for some reason Sansa felt uneasy in Joffrey's presence for the first time. She stared at Lady's corpse, the direwolf still in its death throes, feeling as if something inside her had died with the wolf.

She didn't resist when Joffrey pulled her to her feet then into a hug, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry." He murmured. "We'll get to the bottom of this, whatever your father has done has nothing to do with you."

Sansa pulled back sharply, those words shocking her out of her grief, but she couldn't escape his arms where they encircled her waist. "Surely you don't believe my father could betray the King!"

"The evidence is damning, but again do not worry, you at least will be safe." He caressed her side gently, moving one hand up her skirt to touch her breast and she squeaked pulling back again, her eyes wide and horrified. "Your highness, this is hardly the time or place…"

The grip around her became tighter and Joffrey pulled Sansa close. "You're in no position to argue milady." Joffrey said harshly, his mask slipping fully for the first time in Sansa's presence.

Joffrey knew he held all the cards now. Ranma wasn't in the city, Lord Stark was, but his uncle would deal with him, and he was KING! Finally, he could act on his desires without fear of even his mother censuring him.

His arm tightened around her and he leaned in for a kiss while Sansa tried to lean backwards away from him, her eyes widening in horror while he pawed at her chest. The act and the fact there were so many men around, all of them grinning obscenely, terrified her.

Thankfully for Sansa, a welcome voice interrupted proceedings. "Your highness, you shouldn't come so near the front of a battle without the full guard around you." Ser Barristan stood near the staircase, looking around sadly at the blood and gore splattered everywhere.

He nodded coolly to the Prince. "I was sent to find you and see if princess Myrcella was here. The queen has been unable to find her."

Joffrey scowled a little, but Sansa used the opportunity to escape from his arms, hurrying over to the knight. "The Princess and Ser Oakheart went with a few men from Winterfell into the city early this afternoon. I believe they were going to go to the dress makers, and the jewelers today."

Barristan and several of the older men paled, but the Kingsguard Commander nodded. "Very well, I will deliver you to the queen milady, that was the other half of my orders. Then myself and Ser Moore will head into the city to find the princess."

Sansa nodded, noticing out of the corner of her eye the scowl on Joffrey's face at the mention of Myrcella. She decided then that her father and Ranma had been right about him, too late to do anything but lament her stupidity.

OOOOOOO

Ned groaned tiredly, Ice point first in the dirt of the alleyway, cracking his neck and rubbing one of his shoulders. While Ned hadn't taken part in a lot of the fighting after that initial clash, he was no longer a young man. These constant small actions were beginning to tell, both on him and worse on his men.

He looked up trying to figure out where they were. Noticing it was nearly full night now Eddard shook his head, the compression of combat astonishing him anew. "How close are we to the port?"

"Maybe ten blocks or so." Brynden replied from next to him, looking around wearily. He too was leaning on his sword, and he was older than Eddard. "This better work, we're down to about forty men I think." He scowled angrily. They had started the day with about seventy, and the fact that only lost thirty was amazing, but still hard to take.

"I know." Ned shook her head. "I didn't expect the Lannisters to be able to call upon that many of the other nobles in the city, or for there to be so many mercenaries."

"My fault there." Brynden scowled, his eyes flashing with anger. "I thought I'd found most of them but I don't think I even found half. They've paid for it, though."

The mercenaries had lost possibly as much as five-hundred men in bits and pieces throughout the day battling the Stark forces, and the smallfolk, who Brynden had witnessed attacking them as well. The Lannister supporters had fared little better, under attack from the smallfolk and unable to bring their numbers to bear against Eddard's men. His men were also organized, disciplined and trained beyond the forces they had been fighting.

Of course, we've only been facing Crownlands men and lords, along with the mercenaries. Petyr's men have been doing a lot of the dying, which I bet is deliberate on Jaime's part, I doubt Ser Barristan would be willing to command this action, so it must be the Kingslayer. But his use of their supporters and the mercenaries freed up his family's men to assault the Tower. Our men there are probably already dead, curse it! But Sansa and the other children are out of there at least. Ned thought grimly.

That worry had been niggling at the back of his mind for several hours now, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was carry on, and hope his new plan worked like he hoped it would.

Both men looked up as a runner came towards them. "My Lord, we've spotted a large Lannister force moving towards us, about a hundred and fifty men all told. They're wearing various colors, but have fifty Lannister men at their core."

That caused both older men to wince, but Ned nodded again. "Squad leaders to me!" He called in a loud voice, made hoarse by bellowing commands over the clamor of battle.

It took about twenty minutes for his officers to arrive from out of the maze of alleyways in the darkening gloom of the city. This section of the city was poorly lit at night at the best of times, but they were close to several of the main thoroughfares down to the docks, which might be lit by torches. The docks for certain would be lit. Even with the battles occurring elsewhere commerce would continue as long as possible. Ned had also not heard of any of the galleys in the port throwing their men into the conflict.

When the men were all assembled, Ned looked at them all one by one, staring into their eyes one after another. "This is it; you know what's at stake. We need to push forward towards the port, and then the lions and their men will be getting a bit of a surprise."

They all nodded grimly, if tiredly. Exhaustion hadn't quite set in, but all of them could feel the specter of it. It had been a hard day of on and off fighting to get this far, but all of them were grimly determined to see it through to the end. "We're with you Milord." said Ser Jory, cracking his knuckles where they lay on his sword's pommel.

"Good. Then at the trot, let's move." Ned said simply and turned leading the way with Brynden down the streets.

They didn't make it four blocks before the Lannister force was on them. This time Ned couldn't in good conscience stay back and let his men do all the fighting. He, Jory and Brynden slotted into the line facing the largest street, down which the majority of the attackers were coming, trying to cut them off from the port, where Ned supposed Jaime assumed he was trying to commandeer a ship or something. Jaime didn't know Eddard that well unfortunately. Running was the last thing he was looking to do.

Behind them the few remaining archers began to fire, but quickly ran out of arrows, which they had been scrounging for since near the beginning of this conflict. They dropped their bows, picked up blades and rushed to join the line.

His scouts having spotted Eddard and his men, Jaime had hoped to hit them from all sides at once. Unfortunately, this didn't work nature of the city cutting into Jaime's organization as usual. A few of the attacks coming out of the alleyways to either side of Eddard's line of advance came in too quickly. They were wiped out with the Starks losing only one man in the process.

This allowed two of the squads to switch from the side of the advance to the front, where Eddard was. So despite the main assault coming from that direction, they continued to press forward.

Two more blocks, and five men were down. Anther squad had been cut off from the main force and surrounded, lost for all intents and purposes though they kept fighting. The Lannister supporters and mercenaries were paying for every Winterfell and Riverrun man that went down, but all of them could tell that the opponents were on their last legs.

Ned found himself separated from Jory and Brynden, though he still had several of his other guards still around him, so wasn't worried just yet. He cut down a man in House Cressey colors, Ice opening his guts to the nighttime sky. Turning to his next opponent Lord Stark found his blade locked with that of the Jaime Lannister.

"You almost got away Stark," Jaime said almost conversationally as he parried the older man's blow. "Too bad."

"Too bad for the kingdom." Ned snarled back, straining against the younger man, pushing him back a pace. "Your sister has committed treason Kingslayer, as have you for backing her! Joffrey has no right to the crown!"

Jaime smirked. "I would say that Robert committed treason against my sister first, but I don't suppose it matters at this point." Setting his feet he pushed the older man back before moving into a series of cuts and thrusts He found to his surprise that Ned was able to parry or dodge all of them, even the final blow towards his leg, a trick Jaime had come up with that had never failed to cripple his opponent.

He grinned wildly. This was what he lived for, fuck politics, fuck leading the battle. He lived to fight, and this would let him see what Eddard, who was reckoned a good blade himself, had learned from his son. "Try to make its at least interesting for me old man!" Jaime laughed moving forward even faster.

Ned had trained with his son Ranma and Jon often back home in Winterfell, and had kept up his exercise regimen as much as he could even here in King's Landing. He wasn't as fast as Jaime, or as strong, nor even his skilled, but he was close enough in all three to make the fight almost even. He also had tricks of his own, both taken from Ranma's training and his greater experience, and his weapon was far better than Jaime's.

This was proven when he cut Jaime's shield, hacking a large portion of it away with Ice before backing away from Jaime 's follow-up attack, nearly disarming the Kingslayer with a swift strike of his own before Jaime could recover.

The battle had moved into the well-lit area of the warehouse district by the docks, which allowed the warriors to see what they were doing, but came with it's own dangers. This was proven when someone nearby knocked over one of the large metal lamps lighting the area. The fire quickly spread, the smoke and fire confusing things further.

Not enough however to let Ned break off from Jaime. Still, even with the Kingslayer pressing him hard, Ned had the energy to smile grimly. "You were wrong you know," he growled when their blades locked again.

"Oh?" Jaime grunted, trying to push the older man back. But he nearly lost his footing when Ned danced backwards, Ice flickering out to thrust, almost taking Jaime in the face before he jumped backwards in turn. "About what?"

"I wasn't trying to get away."

Over the clamor of battle he had heard a new warcry. "The White Harbor! The White Harbor! Lord Manderly for Lord Stark!"

Jaime back away, getting enough distance between him and Ned to take in as much of the battle as he could see from there. A new force had arrived on the scene, and judging by the way they were cutting into his men from behind they weren't on his side. Worse yet, they seemed to be well rested which was telling against his own, semi-exhausted men.

Captain Woolfield had timed his assault perfectly. The Lannister supporters were in just the right position for his men, one-hundred and fifty Manderly armsmen, to take them from behind and the flank.

All of them had been cooped up in the bowels of his ship for months now, Eddard being unwilling to let them do anything that might give them away. So the men had only been able to go out in small lots to get away from one another or see the city. Thus all of them were angry and very willing to hit things at this point.

This was proven in those first few minutes of their assault, where they cut down nearly their own number of Lannister supporters. After that, their own disorganization bogged them down slightly among the warehouses. But the battle had definitely turned.

Realizing this Jaime scowled angrily, but pushed forward. If he could cut down Stark the heart would go out of the opposition, and this new force wouldn't matter.

Ned understood Jaime's reasoning, but didn't try to back away, knowing Jaime had to either die of be capture to truly break the queen's forces. Instead he stood his ground, matching the Kingslayer blow for blow for a few moments as the man of Manderly got close, almost breaking through to him several times before being pushed back.

Moments later Lord Stark found himself fighting with his back pressed against a wall of a warehouse. He ducked underneath a blow from Jaime, throwing himself into a roll underneath Jaime's outstretched arm. Ned came up on his knees twisting around quickly to bring Ice up to cut into Jaime's back.

For just a moment there Jaime knew he was going to be cut in half. Surprised at the older man's sudden acrobatics while wielding that massive blade he hadn't turned fast enough to block the blow. And Ice was Valyrian Steel, it would cut through his Kingsguard issue plate armor easily.

One of the Lannister men nearby however had dispatched an exhausted Riverrun knight just at that moment. Seeing Eddard concentrating on Jaime he turned slamming his mace down on Ned's shoulder shattering it. Ned grunted in pain, his stroke going wide. The blow still landed, Ice cutting through the back part of Jaime's chest plate easily enough, leaving a long gash in Jaime's back. But it wasn't deep enough to cripple the Kingslayer.

He turned scowling angrily at the fact that someone else had interrupted them. Even worse was the realization that said interruption had saved his life. "Still," he said raising his blade and moving forward. "All's fair in love, war and all that, Stark!"

Ned grimly backed away. The mace user tried to move forward too quickly, and his stroke took the man in the stomach. But he couldn't back away further before Jaime was on him, his strokes coming quickly, forcing Ned to use both arms to parry them despite his mangled shoulder. The pain was getting to him, and he was slowing down quickly.

Soon the inevitable happened. One of his attempts to parry wasn't quite strong enough, and he was thrown backwards off balance by Jaime's blow, opening himself up to the return stroke which caught him in the side. Ned's desperate twist meant the blow didn't kill him outright, but cut into his chain mail, deep and bloody.

The older man fell backwards to go down to one knee, one hand holding his side where he was bleeding profusely through his chain mail. Ice still held in one hand his eyes still defiant as he glared at Jaime.

Jaime sighed, holding his blade up in a salute. "Good fight." he said respectfully before darting forward, ready to finish his opponent off.

"RAAHHHH!" Suddenly through the smoke and chaos of the melee around them Ser Jory came roaring, holding a spear he had taken from somewhere as if he was trying to gore a boar. The spear shaft was missing its head, but the blunt end of it slammed with all the force Jory could put into it into Jaime's side.

The Kingslayer grunted as he felt his ribs crack under his armor from the impact. The blow actually lifted him off his feet, throwing him backwards and away from Ned. Behind Jory came others most of them wearing Manderly colors, along with Brynden, who went to one knee beside Eddard.

Getting his feet under him, Jaime growled angrily. His sword lashed out, cutting the spear shaft in two before flashing up to attack this new opponent.

Jory scrambled, letting go of the spear and bringing out his own sword to block the blow desperately. "Take Lord Stark and go!" He shouted. "This battle is lost!"

While Eddard had been dueling with Jaime, more Queen's men had arrived. Lord Pyle had finally ended the gold cloak civil war. He had split his forces into three, sending a small portion to reinforce the Red Keep just in case, then sending two hundred men around to try and start to get control of the middle class portions of the city. Lord Pyle himself then led his men and three hundred gold cloaks towards the port, where Jaime had gone. Not well trained or armored, there were still too many of them coupled with the remainder of Jaime's men.

Now it was the men from White Harbor who were in danger of being flanked. Dozens of them had already been cut off from their fellows and subsequently cut down. Worse, the men from Riverrun and Eddard's original guard had been nearly wiped out in the last hour and a half of combat. Realizing this and unable to find Ned, Brynden had commanded the men to fall back towards the ship. Then he spotted Ned battling the Kingslayer, and, from his vantage point on top of a large pile of crates, pointed Jory in that direction with the few remaining Winterfell guards.

Jory ducked under Jaime's blow, his fist coming up to slam into Jaime's side while his spear had impacted. The Kingslayer grunted, before Jory brought an elbow around into his face forcing Jaime back with a broken nose. Jory grabbed his sword arm by twisting his own sword arm around it, holding it in place wrestling with Jaime now rather than going sword to sword. "Go!"

Behind him two men in Manderly colors grabbed Lord Stark, dragging him away as Ned finally gave into his injuries, falling into blackness. The surviving guardsmen Eddard had brought down from Winterfell, all six of them, grimly stood their ground. Holding there they were a small roadblock, holding back the tide of reinforcing gold cloaks from pushing on after their injured lord.

"FALL BACK!" Brynden cursed internally while he directed the retreat, his voice almost gone now from continually bellowing orders. Ned's gamble would've worked if the damned lions hadn't had so many men! Or if they hadn't been able to call on so many mercenaries! He thought to himself savagely. If we had just the Lannisters and their supporters to deal with we might have won this despite the gold cloaks. But not with the mercenaries throwing their weight in and our losses against them throughout the day.

The men from the ship were still a fighting force, and they weren't as exhausted as the rest of the fighters on either side. But the gold cloaks arrival had turned what would have been a close fought victory into a running retreat. "Form up on me! Defend Lord Stark!"

OOOOOOO

Myrcella and her group had continued through the city as the noise of battle and actual fires and riots got worse all the time. They'd taken the time before leaving the merchant district behind to grab two cloaks to hide Alayaya and Myrcella's faces from view, but they were still visibly women despite that, and the bands of rioters could see that easily enough. As Evening began they had lost Eaton and Richard, Riverrun men who had come to the city with Edmure. They fell fighting a particularly nasty group that ambushed them, but they were nearly to the wharves now.

They entered the warehouse district and were making their way around its edges towards the closet docks to where Mattimeo knew the ship with the men from House Manderly was moored, a less used area that was mostly unlit. Thankfully this was also the area where one of the naval cutters was moored, so Ser Oakheart hadn't questioned him yet.

There were close to breaking out of the warehouse district onto the actual docs when a shout went up. "Look it's a group of those damn wolf lovers! Get them!" Two dozen men raced for towards him, all mercenaries save for a few very shabby looking gold cloaks.

Ser Oakheart turned with a frown and looked down at himself realizing his white enameled armor now was much stained with soot and blood, its original white enamel almost invisible. His cloak was gone as well and he lost his shield in the last battle. He strode forward shouting "I am Sir Oakheart of the Kingsguaaahh!"

That was as far as he got before a brick slammed into his face. He went down gasping as he tried to breathe through a shattered nose wiping away the blood from that and his ruptured eye, which had been caught by the corner of the brick. The thrower had been one of the gold cloaks, who snarled aloud, his eyes lit with madness. "Kill the traitor!"

Merry gasped and would have gone to her knight's aid if Mattimeo and Thomas hadn't grabbed him up, each one taking an arm. "Move!" The young man bellowed, and Merry and the others obeyed save Clifton, who knelt to his knees, sighting down his crossbow. His bolt took the brick thrower in the chest, killing him, then he fired two more shots, the last bolts he had while the others retreated before dropping the crossbow and springing after them.

In the dark lit only by starlight and the waning moon they were soon lost, but their pursuers were able to keep them in sight this time. Alayaya led the way with Myrcella running behind her, but they both skidded to a halt in front of a rickety wall about seven feet tall. "Seven damn it!" the black girl cursed.

Mattimeo and the others caught up to them, Arys able to move under his own power now, if groggily. The young armsmen stared in dismay at the wall, estimating how long would take them to cut it down while behind them they heard the shouts and screams of their pursuers, like hounds after a fox. He looked at Alayaya. "How far to get to the docks from here?"

Alayaya gulped looking around, knowing full well what would await her and Myrcella if they were captured by such men, regardless of their supposed allegiance. "We're at the back of a warehouse that uses this area as extra storage space, I recognize the warehouse because I've been here with my mother a time or to buying bulk foodstuffs. The wharves should be right on the other side of this wall."

Mattimeo nodded, reaching over to pick up Myrcella easily and hoisting her up to where she could grasp the top of the wall. "Pull yourself up and over." he ordered.

Myrcella looked down at him with wide eyes. "What about you?"

"Do it." Mattimeo ordered, not answering. Myrcella hesitated for another second then did so, pulling herself up and over landing with a grunt of pain as her ankle twisted when she landed on the other side, her dress torn even further than it had been after so many forced sprints.

Mattimeo turned to Alayaya while Oakheart looked at the wooden wall then around them as the men who had been pursuing them rounded the corner of the warehouse. Even through his pain from the throne brick Arys understood, and he nodded in approval while Thomas and Clifton formed a very makeshift shield wall at the narrowest point of the alleyway.

He raised his sword and shouted, spitting out blood from his nose and eye. "Remember me fondly little princess, and run!"

Mattimeo hoisted Alayaya into his arms, lifting her up to go over the wall as well. He took a moment to lean in, kissing her hard on the lips. "I wish we could've done more." He murmured. "Make for the ship that will be flying the House Stark colors, and if you see someone dressed in the colors of house Manderly, white on a light blue background, tell them the 'merman serves the wolf' and they should help you and the Princess."

So saying he didn't give her time to reply, hoisting her up to the top of the wall the wall with a grunt of effort. Alayaya scrambled, and then with a final push on her rear which caused her to squeak a little she fell forward over the wall, quickly covering her head with her arms as she hit the ground.

Myrcella was hammering on the wall, screaming. "Come over too! You can make it!"

"Not in armor I can't." Arys replied. "Get out of here little princess. Look after yourself, because I'm no longer going to be there to do it!"

Behind him the first of the rioters slammed into Clifton and Thomas. Clifton nearly went down with a spear to the guts, but he dodged it enough to let it graze his side, killing the man who wielded it with a thrust of his sword, before having to pull back quickly to avoid a mace swinging for his head.

"Run!" Mattimeo bellowed, and jumping forward with Arys as Thomas went down, tackled by two men even as his belt knife took one of them in the throat, his sword having been knocked out of his hand. "RUN!" And then neither man had time for more words.

Alayaya pulled Myrcella away sobbing. Myrcella tried to fight, tried to run back towards the wall, but Alayaya's grip on her arm was too strong and Alayaya pulled Merry away her own eyes wet as they raced on. Luckily Alayaya had been correct in her guess that simply boosting herself over the wall had put her onto the docks and she ran down them, looking for the ship with the flag of House Stark on it.

Soon they saw men in chain mail and strange tabards patrolling the area. One of them looked up and saw the two women running and shouted "Ho, stop there you two!" Six men converged on them quickly looking at the two women quizzically.

"Both of you should be hiding somewhere." One of them said assuming these were two merchants' wives or something of that nature that had gotten separated from their minders at some point. "Where are your menfolk?"

"Dead behind us." Alayaya said choking back a half sob. She looked at them, barely able to make out their colors in the light of the fires raging through the warehouse district, and said simply "The merman serves the wolf."

The man who had spoken stiffened. He was the lieutenant of the ship and had been left to guard the docks, more to make certain that the Navy galleys didn't put into sure than anything else. This area of the city was relatively quiet, since most of the merchant crews had simply upped anchor and moved away from the docks and those that didn't had forted up where they were. "Who are you two?"

"I am Alayaya," the black girl gasped. "An informer for the Hand. And this is the Princess Myrcella Baratheon." Myrcella pushed off looked up at the man from where she was now clinging to Alayaya's hand like a lifeline, her eyes wet with tears.

The man looked at the two of them it with wide eyes wondering how the hell they had gotten through the madness that was the city to here, but thanked the Seven that they had. Detailing one of his men to take over the patrol he hurried them back towards his ship.

As they went however, more men broke out of the warehouse district, all wearing Manderly colors and moving with purpose, especially a small group that were carrying a makeshift stretcher. "Lord Stark is down!" Several men bellowed as they saw their few fellows scattered around. "Back to the ship! This battle is lost!"

Myrcella's breath caught, and she raced forwards towards the ship meeting with the men from the battle just as Brynden came backwards still organizing the running retreat. Aboard the ship a dozen archers had been kept back for just this purpose (and the fact they wouldn't have been useful in the maze of warehouses) and they began to lay down a withering hail of fire aimed thanks to the fires in the warehouse district, allowing the men from White Harbor to gain some separation from their pursuers.

Brynden looked down at the princess happy to see her yet also concerned by who he didn't see. "Myrcella you're here, does that mean Sansa is as well?"

"Sansa refused to come with us today, she wanted to spend lunch with Joffrey, I'm sorry." Myrcella replied, her voice cracking as she tried to cling to her need to be polite in the face of so much upheaval.

But in the next instant she lost it. "My Lord Tully, what has happened!? One moment everything was fine, the next we come out of a shop and we hear that my father is dead, and someone has accused Lord stock of treachery! Then we hear that Lord stark has proof that the Lannisters have committed treason, what's going on!?"

"That would take too long to tell right now Myrcella." The man said waving her aside for now, though Myrcella could see his face had seemingly aged ten years after hearing her news about Sansa. "Lord Stark is sorely wounded." He looked up at captain Woolfield, who had just come towards him through his men as they bunched up near the plank leading up onto the ship. "Does this ship have a surgeon?"

The captain shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Myrcella looked at the men as they brought Lord Stark aboard biting her knuckle as she looked at the man who had so often been kind to her, been that had become her rock when Ranma was no longer around. She spoke up hesitantly, current worry overriding her grief. "I-I have some knowledge of healing, do we at least have a stock of herbs and medicines? Alayaya, do you think you could do the stitching?"

"I could try, I suppose," Alayaya murmured looking at her benefactor as well, her eyes wide in both memory of recent loss and shock to see such a strong man laid low.

"Good. You men, get Lord Stark down into one of the beds, then heat water and find the smallest needle you have aboard this ship. We'll do all we can for him, I promise." Myrcella said taking command in a way that astonished those around her. Still they obeyed with alacrity, though later would be hard-pressed to say why.

Brynden smiled down at her rubbing her head affectionately. "Do what you can, I need to direct the battle."

Myrcella nodded. "I will however require that explanation of what in the Stranger's name is going on at some point Ser!" She said looking up at him with all the stern hauteur she could muster after years at her mother's knee. With that said she then hurried after Lord stark's makeshift gurney, determined to do what she could for the man.

Brynden took a moment to stare after her shaking his head. "I hope to put that off as long as I can lady, and I hope you can handle it well when it comes."

OOOOOOO

Scrambling on the cobblestones, Jaime tried to get loose of the madman who had a hold of them. But Jaime couldn't get to his sword, and without a sword Jaime wasn't nearly as formidable. He tried to twist away, but the man, who had dropped his own blade, held him down while scrambling for his belt knife. He reached it, but Jaime was able to get a foot between them kicking him away.

Jaime grabbed his sword from where it had fallen, bringing it up just in time to smash the knife away when Jory tried a desperate lunge. Jaime in turn tried to cut the man down quickly and hurry after Stark, but Jory jumped backwards, grabbing up his own blade wearily.

"For Winterfell and Lord Stark!" he shouted charging forward. Jaime met him, but Jory wasn't as good as his lord. He was younger, but even more exhausted than Stark had been at the start of his duel with Jaime. Five parries, and suddenly his blade went flying, his fingers cut off where they had held the hilt. Before he could try to grab his sword up with his off-hand, Jaime's sword ran Jory through, punching though his chain mail over his stomach in a welter of gore.

Kicking the man off his sword, Jaime scowled angrily, staring down the street towards the harbor. The street was blocked end to end now with men wearing Manderly colors, holding off the reinforcing gold cloaks, whose lack of armor and formal training was telling.

They had to have been hiding on some kind of galley. How Varys and Petyr missed that I don't know but I'll be having words with them both later! The men there were now in good order, retreating but not beaten.

"Harry them!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse from smoke inhalation and pain from his ribs and his back. "Harry them, Seven damn you!"

But it wasn't to be. The gold cloaks lacked the ability to break the Manderly men's line, Jaime's men were too exhausted, and the mercenaries had no wish to throw themselves into battle again.

The mercs had lost more than four fifths of their number through this day of blood and carnage. Petyr had started the battle with about a thousand bought men, spread out over the city in penny-packets. About three hundred never actually joined the battle at all. They were picked off in small lots by roving bands of smallfolk all over the city. Thanks to Jaime forcing them to the fore of the battle, the constant small scale battles against Lord Stark's force throughout the day had cost them even more than that, and the final battle had killed more.

By dawn Petyr would find he only had a force of about a hundred bought swords remaining to him, the difference made up by those who had decided he had no idea what he was doing, and had decided to leave for greener pastures with the money they had already received. The Lannister supporters had fared better thanks to Jaime's forcing the mercenaries into the hottest fighting, but they were exhausted and disheartened now that a new force of Northerners had arrived.

An hour later, Jaime was impotent to do anything but watch as the men gained the wharves, moving quickly to a galley moored there, stuck between two others in such a way that no port-master would've approved of. He kept staring while the ship, actually scraping against another merchant vessel as it was pushed off the dock, sailed away into the bay.

OOOOOOO

The Queen, Varys, Joffrey and his captive Sansa, were waiting in the King's Counsel room for news of the battles in the city and the search for Myrcella. Cersei had questioned Sansa closely, almost desperately, about the whereabouts of her daughter, but Sansa had been unable to tell her more than she had Barristan. Cersei hadn't been nasty about it, only worried, but refused to answer Sansa's questions in turn about what had happened to spark this insanity, merely saying she would answer that question when her daughter was safe.

Cersei had sent Barristan immediately along with Ser Moore and ten men of House Lannister, including her cousin, into the city to find Myrcella. Lancel had wanted to talk to her alone, but Cersei had put him off. Now was not the time for his… payment, not when her daughter, her little lioness, was out there in the madness of the city. So here Cersei sat, her fingers tapping a nervous beat on the table in front of her, waiting for word.

She glanced at where Joffrey sat, seemingly composed as he whispered instructions of some kind to Ser Trant, while Sansa sat silent and unmoving next to him. The sight of her son made a proud smile form on Cersei's face. Though she hadn't known it until after, Joffrey had taken command of the battle to take the Tower, and he seemed to have done admirably.

Actually, besides ordering the initial attack the only thing Joffrey had been in command of was the final few clashes in the tower, when the battle had been all but won. Although he had been the one to demand they start to take prisoners. And he had saved Sansa and Jeyne from death and rape.

At least for now; Joffrey had his own ideas in that direction, as evinced from the scene Ser Barristan's arrival had brought to an end. Something Sansa was all too aware of, which added to her reasons to be silent, topped only by the shock of Lady's death still reverberating in Sansa's mind.

Several hours after the battle in the Tower ended they were still waiting for news when Petyr entered, nodding his head to them all. Inwardly Littlefinger cursed seeing Sansa there. He had hoped to get back in time to secure Sansa's wellbeing himself, he knew a passageway into the tower of the Hand that he could have used to get her out, and he could have easily hidden her among his staff for a time.

But Cersei's demand he take part in the initial attempt to confront Lord Stark, and Jaime's refusal to let him go after the battle began, had put paid to that idea. Now he was left scrambling, trying to think of a way to get Sansa under his power in some way.

That was for later though, right now, he had to deal with Cersei. He bowed formally to the queen and heir before giving his report. "The battles between the gold cloak factions have been decided. We now have full control of their remaining forces. I've ordered them to start quelling the worst of the fires in the city. We need to start getting order out there. We've also captured Edmure Tully. At Ser Jaime's orders, I've transferred him to the prison here in the keep."

He sent an apologetic seeming look at Sansa, where she was sitting by Joffrey, though now that he had time to look, Petyr saw that Sansa didn't seem as if she wanted to be there any longer. Perhaps the boy's mask cracked already, Petyr thought.

Cersei's voice brought his attention to her quickly. "Is there any news of my daughter? What of Jaime, has the actual fighting died down?"

"Your daughter?" Petyr asked, blinking in actual surprise. "Your majesty, I never received any news about the princess. If you sent runners out, they might have been killed before they found me. A single person wearing Lannister colors, or even a single nobleman traveling through the city right now would die quickly."

That made Cersei swoon for a moment, but she got control of herself quickly. "My daughter apparently went into the city earlier today before this all began, with Ser Oakheart and a few of the Hand's men and one of his maids." Cersei had not heard about Alayaya's past, Myrcella not having shared it, nor had Lord Stark or anyone else seen fit to mention it to her, so that was all she knew.

"I'm sorry your highness, I never saw any sign of the princess." Petyr replied, and he actually was sorry too. It would have been simple to use his finding Myrcella to gain further favor from the Queen Regent, something he could have used in many different ways.

Cersei waved him away before rubbing at her face wearily, her normal arrogance in abeyance for the moment. But only for a moment, and she straightened up quickly, staring at Petyr. "Grab the lords and the retainers here in the Red Keep that remained neutral, get them out into the city to help quell the fires and chaos, we can't let the smallfolk get used to acting like this."

Bowing, Petyr left to give those orders, just as Lord Gaunt entered. Cersei's face and eyes hardened, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Well?"

"It's done." The man said simply, his voice gruff. "I lost fifteen of my men doing it though, we were attacked several times by bands of smallfolk. But we were able to find them all." Nearby Varys frowned, wondering what that was about and fearing he had an all too accurate idea.

"Good, I'll double the agreed upon payment for this Gaunt, you have my word." Cersei said earnestly, now smiling slightly. She waved him off, and Detmer left the room without another word.

About an hour's anxious waiting later Lord Pyle came in, going to one knee before the queen creaking in his armor. "Enough of that!" She snapped. "What has happened? Where is my brother? Has there been any news about my daughter?"

"Your daughter? Majesty, I haven't heard anything about the princess. Ser Jaime was injured your Majesty, he is with the healers right now. It isn't serious." He said quickly, looking up at her face which had started to go white, "But it was extremely painful. Several cracked ribs, and a large cut that needs stitching."

That caused Cersei to breathe a sigh of relief. Jaime had such injuries before after all, and he pulled through easily enough. "Very well, if Jaime is alright and you don't have anything to tell me about my daughter, tell me what has been going on in the city. When can we expect Lord Stark to be brought before us?"

The man gulped. "Lord Stark escaped my lady. We were winning the battle, Ser Jaime had finally pinned the traitor down in the warehouse district, but Lord Stark had more men, men we had no idea he had, in reserve. All of them wore House Manderly colors. They hit Ser Jaime's forces and it was only my arrival with my force of gold cloaks that saved the day. Even so they were able to win through to the ports and boarded a ship, which put out to sea immediately."

At those words Sansa felt both elation and despair. Elation that her father had gotten away. Despair at what it meant for her.

"And Lord Stark escaped!?" Cersei said her voice rising with each word as Joffrey scowled, clenching his hands.

"S-sorely wounded, your Majesty." Lord Pyle hastened to say, shrinking in on himself. He was a middle-aged man, who was rather submissive in personal confrontations. It was well known he spent so much time in court because he wished to stay away from his wife, and he reacted visibly to the female voice of anger. "Lord Jaime fought him sword to sword, and nearly took his head. I, d-doubt that he'll live through his wounds. He's not a young man anymore after all."

Cersei's eyes narrowed that last comment, since she was only three years younger than Ned, but she ignored it for now. "Still he escaped. And the Blackfish, what of him?"

"Went with them your Majesty, uninjured, so far as I know." Lord Pyle replied, wincing.

Cersei leaned back sighing faintly as she rubbed her forehead right above one eyebrow. I do not share this belief that Ned will die by his wounds. So there will be at least two who know about the fact that Joffrey is not Robert son. Will they be believed if they declare it? Please, this is the oh-so honorable Lord Stark, of course his own Lord's will believe him, and others.

With a wave of her hand she dismissed the man, while Joffrey turned to glare at Varys. "Well eunuch, what do you have to say? Stark having more men that we didn't know about, it sounds as if your little birds have failed you."

"I have no excuse your highness." Varys said, bowing his bald head. "I have no idea how Lord Stark could have kept such a force secret, but will assign several of my agents to look into it."

Of course, many of his informers were child whores, and if men didn't visit them, the number of agents he had in the city fell sharply. Worse, very few of them could discern the difference between a Valeman and a Northerner's speech.

After ten more minutes, Petyr returned, having turned over the duty of working with the gold cloaks to Ser Balon Swann, a knight of the Stormlands House of the same name. He was a tough, tested young man, well thought of by his peers, who had stayed out of the conflict that had suddenly roared through the city only because he couldn't tell which side to believe. Now that the battles were dying down however, he would willingly do his part to restore order and law.

The queen filled Petyr in one what Lord Pyle had told them, then looked at her two 'advisers'. "Is there any chance we could send a ship after Stark?"

"I'm afraid not your majesty. None of the Naval galleys in the city have responded to our orders from the start, and I received a report just before returning to the Red Keep that all five of them have pulled up their anchors and have left the port." Petyr replied apologetically.

Again the feeling was real, though only the tip of a hate-filled iceberg. How did Eddard survive! Damn it! His vengeance against House Stark had not gotten off to the start he had hoped. After a moment's reflection though, he felt this might be the best in the long term, a whole House Stark would be able to weaken the Lannisters further so both could be finished off easier.

"I too do not think we can count on hope that Lord Stark dies of his wounds. We must assume that he will live, the question is what will he do? There is the King Beyond the wall pulling away much of the North's strength, nor can the North field a large force even at the best of times." Varys murmured, one perfumed hand tapping his baby-bare chin. "The North may be large, but it is also sparsely populated, and their roads are abysmal."

"Are you an idiot, or merely incompetent?" Cersei scoffed. "If Lord Stark declares that my son is not legitimate as he claims, there will be fools who believe him for their own reasons. Stannis for one, he has always hated the fact that Robert had sons removing him from the line of succession. Renly for another, he's ambitious as well, and would leap at the chance to name himself king."

Joffrey twitched at that, as did Sansa. Neither of them had heard that before. Joffrey had merely been told Lord Stark had wanted to reign as regent rather than allow him to take the crown, which had been more than enough for him. Now rage filled him at the very idea of someone thinking Robert wasn't his father, the very idea was ludicrous! Sansa on the other hand was now doing her best to seem invisible, not wanting anyone in this room to realize she was still there.

"We need to battle rumor with rumor your Majesty, spread the word that Eddard is connected to the Targaryen siblings possible return. And we need to prepare our forces." Petyr replied.

Cersei nodded. "I will send word to my father. I have no doubt that he already has forces in place to combat the 'bandits' around the borders between the Westerlands and the Riverlands. He can march into the Riverlands, and with an army already in their territory and with Edmure in our custody, the Riverlanders will not rise against us. I can also send messages to the Crownlands calling their men up."

"We could send to the Vale and have them attempt to run the ship down, it might be possible though I don't know how likely." Petyr said hesitantly.

"Unless you have connections I don't know about, that's not likely." The Master of Whispers said dryly. "The Vale might have a small fleet, but with it's Lord Paramount dead and Lyssa Arryn acting so irrationally since her husband's death, I doubt she would listen to any orders from us, or that her lords who have ships would listen to Lyssa in turn."

Cersei scowled, rubbing her for head even harder as she felt a headache coming on. She looked over at the drinks cabinet along one wall, then resolutely turned her back on them. She would never fall to the drink that as Robert had, and she needed her head clear now.

Turning back, her eyes flashed over Ser Trant and Blount, the two Kingsguard who hadn't gone with their commander into the city. Cersei decided then that she needed to do something with the white cloaks. Both in skill and loyalty she thought to herself coldly. I know that they are loyal, but loyal to my son and I, or loyal to their positions and the money that my family has paid them. Men bought like that can be bought again, I need to remember that. They've been useful up to this point, but there are enough empty slots now that I can find men of ability and honor to fill them rather than just bought swords. Something to talk to my brother about later.

"So you're just saying we have to let the traitor get away free like this!" Joffrey said, smashing his hand down on the table, like a child having a tantrum.

Petyr spoke before Cersei could. "He's already escaped your highness. We have no ships to send after him, none of the navy will answer to us. We need to deal with the reality of this rather than our anger at it."

"Find whoever should have discovered that Stark had this extra force on hand, I want them executed! Them and whoever was in charge of the battle that allowed him to get away."

"Your uncle was in charge of the battle in the city." Cersei said coolly looking at her son, who quailed slightly under eyes, though not as much as he once would have. "He nearly killed Lord Stark personally, but he could not do everything." She looked back at Varys. "I agree that the lack of intelligence is something that needs to be addressed, though that is a conversation for later."

"What do you think of this, Sansa?" she asked looking over the girl, her eyes narrowed. "What do you think of your father's accusations?"

"If my father has been led astray by someone as to spread such rumors your Majesty, the-then he has indeed turned traitor." Sansa replied, keeping her voice level and not meeting anyone's eyes. "I, I cannot predict what his actions will be now."

Cersei smiled internally. The girl was good, but you could tell that she was distraught, and didn't know what to believe, really. That didn't matter, she would still be a good bargaining tool. "Very well, one of the servants will show you to Myrcella's room for now. Until this conflict is resolved, you will remain a guest of our hospitality."

The girl curtsied her way out, still shocked and numb at what had happened. Joffrey however was still furious that Lord Stark had escaped and decided that Sansa needed to pay for her father's perfidy. He bowed to his mother. "I trust that you will be handling things in the city mother? When can I expect to be crowned?"

Cersei smiled at her son fondly, for the moment forgetting her concern for her daughter's safety. "Tomorrow my little lion. You may retire now, you'll have a busy day starting early." He nodded to her, then left quickly, but he did not head to his room.

As the door shut behind her son Cersei turned to Petyr, her eyes narrowed. "You mentioned Lord Stark backing the Targaryens twice now, is there any reason behind that accusation?"

"I knew Catelyn Tully when we were young Your Majesty. When I learned from Ranma that she had welcomed a bastard into their family, it got me curious, though at the time I couldn't put my finger on why. She is a proud woman, so to allow her husband's baseborn bastard into her house… While she would not argue against her husband's decision if he was honor bound to take him in, she would certainly not make the boy welcome. Yet that seems to be the case. It has taken me months of research, but I have determined that John Snow might not be who he seems to be. I am waiting for evidence of that before saying what I suspect but…"

Petyr shrugged eloquently. "And it is fact that both Ranma and his father seemed to place more value in bringing the Targaryen siblings back rather than killing them. Yet their deaths would've been better for the kingdom as a whole."

Cersei frowned thoughtfully, wondering what to do about that. She could see what Petyr was insinuating, but proving it was another matter. "I've seen the boy, he's pure Stark. There is nothing of house Targaryen in him, if that is what you are implying."

"There doesn't have to be your Majesty, and it doesn't have to be believed by Lord Stark's people, or even those who would side with him for their own reasons, but our own people and that of Stannis and Renly."

"True. Very well, prepare proclamations to that effect, and send out men to find Ser Barristan and my daughter!" Cersei snarled the last sentence, getting worried every minute that Barristan didn't burst in with her daughter with him. "Leave me!" she shouted, looking at both men, before falling back into her seat.

She rubbed her face wearily, letting her concern and fear for her daughter show now that neither of her so-called advisers were there. She knew what happened in this city at the best of times, and was deathly afraid of what could have happened to her daughter in this time of chaos.

Just then there was a sound of booted feet outside. Cersei quickly straightened up, her face hardening into her normal expression of cool hauteur. Ser Barristan walked through the door, his normally resplendent white cloak and armor splattered with blood and soot, his helm gone, and a cut on his cheek. Ser Moore was not with him, nor, to Cersei's rising fury, was her daughter. "Where is my daughter!?"

Ser Barristan had faced more than one angry royal in his time, but he had rarely stood before one to report failure, and it galled him to do so now. He was more angry however at some of the things that had been shouted at him when they went through the city in search of the missing princess. "Your majesty, I regret to say we lost Ser Moore and several others, including Lancel. He was struck down in one of the fights we ran into."

Cersei waved that off, glad she wouldn't have to pay her cousin in the coin she had promised, having no family feeling toward him at all. He had been useful, but his lust toward her, which he had fondly thought was love, had been disturbing, despite her ability to manipulate it. "I'm sorry for the losses of course, but where is my daughter, Ser Barristan?"

"We were able to find smallfolk who were willing to tell us they had seen a small party of the Hand's men and two girls with a white cloak. We found Ser Oakheart, dead, your majesty, his head was caved in by something, along with three other men wearing Winterfell colors and over a dozen smallfolk who were armed with various weapons. After that, we questioned several sailors from the ships in harbor who had forted up told us they saw someone matching Myrcella's description boarding the ship."

Cersei's bit her lower lip so hard it bled.

OOOOOOO

Sansa sighed to herself looking around Merry's room. She'd had quite a lot of fun times here, but she knew that time was over. I hope she's all right part a part of Sansa thought to herself, while the rest was too busy with self-pity and recrimination to have much room for anyone else's problems. How did this all happen? Why do they think my father would tell such lies?

But, another part of her mind said, is it a lie? If Joffrey really is illegitimate, then he isn't the heir to the throne, he isn't the Prince, he isn't even a lord. Baseborn bastards cannot be heirs. If so, your father was in the right, not that it matters now. You might be forced to marry him anyway. A thought that even yesterday had been her fondest joy was now revealed to be a nightmare.

Sansa sighed, pushing that thought aside as she contemplated the number of men that had died to this day, many that she had known all her life. She would never see Ser Jory again, never see mister Vayon smile at her like a proud grandfather, or even the younger men of the guards. Never hear about their latest training practice, never see them bow to her as they did, with smiles and their eyes and on their faces back in Winterfell, never hear them call her 'the little lady' again or laugh as they tried to vie for a scarf or something else she had made. Never be scolded again by the septa, which hit her harder than nearly all the rest.

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she brushed them away quickly. She sighed looking down at herself, then decided to get ready for bed, it was late, and it had been the longest day she could ever imagine. She needed sleep.

Behind her the door abruptly banged open, and Joffrey, Ser Blount and Ser Trant came in. Sansa quickly held her bodice which she had been about to pull off back up to protect her chastity, and squeaked "M-my Lord?"

It was taking all her self-control not to shriek at them, but Sansa knew that wouldn't help matters. She had to stay calm, had to play the dutiful fiancé. She needed to try to appeal to Joffrey's good nature rather than the 'Baratheon' anger that seemed to have risen within him since this all began.

Joffrey smiled thinly stalking forward, his eyes alight with eagerness. "You know, your father might have escaped, but someone has to pay for his crime. And if I can't get to him, well you'll have to do." His hand flashed out catching her in the mouth and sending her to the floor.

Sansa cried in shock, holding one hand to her cheek cursing the fact that she her hold out knife had been taken from her. The sight of the two Kingsguard members laughing at her pain drove that thought out of her mind though. Even if she could have protected herself against Joffrey, and she wasn't certain she could have, the two of them would've dealt with her easily enough.

Above her Joffrey wrung out his hand, wincing, then smirked. He clicked his fingers at Ser Trent. "Blount, hold her down, and you Ser trent, I want you to flog her until I say to stop."

The men did so, and Sansa, tears once more threatening to fall from her face, simply let them position her for the flogging. A deep wellspring of anger however had begun to make itself known however, and even exhausted she had decided she would not allow Joffrey the victory of seeing her tears. The men jeered at her near nakedness, but she kept her eyes closed, concentrating on not crying.

The flogging went on for several minutes, leaving large, painful welts on her back and shoulders when it was interrupted. "This is unseemly Your Highness, said a stern voice from behind them.

They turned to see the door open again and Petyr there with Sir Barristan. Barristan looked weary, but his eyes were hard when they flipped over his fellow Kingsguard, and both men flinched, backing away.

The older man sneered mentally. Paper shields, he thought sarcastically. Jaime's the only one amongst them who could fight me, even now I could cut through the rest like they weren't even there.

Barristan walked forward before the other man could holding out a hand towards Sansa who took it and was helped to her feet, while her other hand again held her bodice up.

The Master of Coin looked over at Joffrey. "This is an unseemly way to treat your wife-to-be your Majesty, or has that changed since I last heard?"

Before Joffrey could speak he went on in a soothing tone. "Moreover, we have just learned that the princess has been kidnapped by the Starks, no doubt they will use her as a hostage for our good conduct of this lady. Your mother would not be pleased to hear that you did anything to Sansa that could cause the Starks to hurt her daughter in turn."

Joffrey ground his teeth angrily at that. First Tommen, now Myrcella, both of them thorns in my side! Why can't mother see it any longer, I'm the heir, I will be king tomorrow, I'm the only one that matters!

Yet he had enough self-control to know his mother wouldn't take lightly to that, and may even be against him beating Sansa at all considering his father's treatment of her at times. "Very well" he said angrily looking at Sansa. "So long as this one knows her place I won't do more to her." A sudden thought occurred to him and he smiled evilly to himself. Not physically at least.

With that he stalked off followed by his two cronies, leaving Barristan and Petyr there. "My thanks my lords." Sansa nodded to them both, still leaning on Barristan's hand. "You are a true knight Ser."

"I'm no longer certain of that as I once was lass," he murmured shaking his head. "You need a healer?"

Sansa nodded weakly, and Barristan quickly moved to the doorway to call for one. Once the older man left Petyr moved over quickly to whisper in Sansa ear. "Keep on playing their game for now, I may be able to manage your release from this hell eventually."

Sansa looked up at him, her eyes a little colder then she would normally have allowed them to be. "And why would you be helping me Ser?"

"Your mother and I were good friends when we were younger. In her memory I would not let her daughter be treated in such a manner." Petyr replied smoothly.

Sansa nodded, seemingly taking in his words wildly inside her head she screamed, If you were such a good friend to mother why did you help the Lannister's against my father?! Do you take me for a fool? On her face however she simply smiled and said. "Then I will try to keep from letting Joffrey get to me and wait for that day."

She shivered a little as Petyr gently stroked her cheek, something about it sending a stab of panic deep into her mind, but she remained still as he did so before bowing his head again and exiting the room. Sansa shivered again. Enemies all around me, and not a friend in sight. Lady, I should've treated you better my brave wolf, Jeyne, what have they done with you? Now alone a Sansa fell on the bed sobbing, and was still sobbing when the healers arrived to see to her bruised back.

OOOOOOO

Cersei had been correct that Joffrey would have a very busy day the next day. He was crowned that very morning. The Queen wanted that done as soon as possible to further strengthen their hold on the throne. She had also sent out a raven late last night to her father, detailing the events in the city, though not detailing the rumors that Ned had begun about her for children being illegitimate. It would come to Tywin's ears eventually, but with no evidence to back it up, he would never believe it, simply seeing it as a ploy for the Starks to seize power.

She had detailed the action in the city, as well as their capture of Edmure, and asked him to march into the Riverlands to make certain that they would not rise in war, as well as warning him about how Stannis and Renly might react. Renly had escaped the city unfortunately, well before she had even sent out Ser Gaunt, and Stannis already seemed to have plans in motion.

Cersei knew that her father already had an army, not a large one but still an army on the border waiting to crush the force sent against the so-called 'bandits', so his move from there into the Riverlands wouldn't take long. His arrival here in the city however would take months. Until then they would have to do what they could to bolster their defenses.

From her position at the bottom of the dais with the Iron Throne Cersei smiled thinly as she watched the crown set gently on her son's head feeling pride in her boy. Her daughter not being here was like a hangnail worrying at her mind, but at least her son was now king as he should've been. She wouldn't have cared which son, but Joffrey was her personal choice, and it was good to see it happen.

The courtroom wasn't as full as normal, even in comparison to the days leading up to Robert's death, but everyone there cheered and clapped as Joffrey stood up from the throne wincing occasionally from the cuts the swords had given him. The thing was more of a torture device then a throne really, all those blades would nick anyone who sat there, making certain that no king could sit comfortably.

With the actual ceremony over however Joffrey could transfer to a much more comfortable seat at it's base and he did so now. "Now, to business" he said clapping his hands and smirking. "I believe we have warrants of treason to sign? I know we talked about it last night, but could we try at least to catch up to Lord Stark?"

Petyr shook his head from where he stood nearby, moving forward with the other small council members as the rest of the court tears slowly dispersed. "We have no naval assets to do so your Majesty, we could ask some of the merchant captains, or even take them over, but I don't have any idea if we could catch up to them. Not with a full nights head start, and besides…" he shrugged. "We have no one who has any experience in naval combat."

"We need to bolster the gold cloaks and the Kingsguard." Cersei said quickly. "We lost several more members of the Kingsguard, and we haven't even filled the place that we lost in Winterfell."

At the mention of Winterfell Joffrey smirked. Not being privy to the messages that Ned and Cat exchanged every month he had no idea that his little mission there had failed. It was a pity, he reflected that he couldn't have told his father about it before the man's death, perhaps that would've made him proud of Joffrey. After all, what was the difference between hunting and sending in assessing? Joffrey couldn't see it.

"Actually speaking of the Kingsguard, I have an announcement to make. Uncle." He said looking over at Jaime.

Jaime was looking a little pale, his ribs were hurting something fierce, and the cut to his back had painful to sew together. Still he stood there in his armor, resplendent in his armor.

"Sir Barristan." Joffrey went on looking at the older man. He too was resplendent, standing ramrod straight, his eyes watchful. Nothing in his manner hinted that he was still quite tired from last evening's work.

"You have served the crown faithfully for years, I feel however that it is time for a change and that you have earned your retirement." Joffrey smirked. "I release you from your oath to the Kingsguard, you may go. Uncle, you are the new Kingsguard commander. I would like to see it be brought up to full strength within the week."

Jaime nodded his head, not trying to hide his shock. The Queen too frowned. Yet a part of her also whispered that Barristan had failed her, not being able to bring home her daughter last night. Because of that, she stayed silent.

Barristan ground his teeth. "You cannot dismiss a Kingsguard, we serve for life your Majesty." He said making the words ironic in a way that made Joffrey's eyes narrow.

"You serve at the king's pleasure" he smirked at the older man. "You have failed two Kings, and you don't seem to be as enthusiastic about my rule as I would've liked. Therefore you may go. Begone." his smile thinned abruptly "Ser Blount, Ser Trant remove his cloak."

"Don't bother." Barristan snarled backing away stood one step his hand going to his sword. He stared at the three surviving members of the Kingsguard, shaking his head. "The Kingsguard has been going downhill since the Aerys died." he said glaring hard at Jaime. "Be it by oath or by skill or will, none of you are worthy of the cloaks you wear. I could cut you all down here and now, and bury this sword in your heart false King." he said staring hard Joffrey.

The Queen growled angrily, surging to her feet but was mailed to her place by a stern look from the older man. "You're not worthy of that crown you wear, but I'll be damned if I'll let your to puppets here take my cloak." He pulled it off himself and threw it at the King's feet. "There it is, the rest." He said tapping the armor he wore. "Well, that stays with me. Call it a trade for my back pay if you want."

"So dramatic!" Joffrey said internally grinding his teeth but he knew that with his uncle injured the older man actually could go through with that threat. Trant and Blount were loyal, at least to the coin, but they weren't actually very good, even he knew that, hence why he had liked it when his mother found the Hound to serve him. "I suppose we can allow you your dramatic moment, but do remember to be gone from the Red Keep within an hour. After that," and his smile thinned again. "You will be detained at our pleasure. You've spoken your piece, just be thankful that we don't name you traitor with Lord Stark."

Barristan Selmy, the oldest serving Kingsguard, the last survivor of the last kings guard, sneered at that, then left without another word. Where he would go or what he would do he didn't know just then, but he first wanted to get out of this cursed city.

After the man left, Cersei turned to her son. "While I agree with the appointment of my brother as commander, it was foolish to dismiss Ser Selmy entirely like that. Ser Barristan adds credence to anyone naming himself King, he is seen as the one of the most honorable knights in all of Westeros, and is a extremely capable commander."

"Then we will have to see that he doesn't declare for anyone else." Joffrey smirked and looked over at Petyr. "Send some gold cloaks to see to that would you?"

Inside his head Jaime rolled his eyes, questioning his 'son's' intelligence at this point. Sending gold cloaks against Barristan Selmy was like setting so many sheep on a bear, it just wouldn't work. Still with his own wounds he wasn't about to go after the old man. He would've liked to, Jaime would've really liked to. Barristan was another man who could give him a hell of a fight, but with his wounds he knew he would lose at the moment.

With that taken care of and nodding her head at her son's forethought the queen went on to other matters. "Returning to the matter at hand, the gold cloaks as I said, need to be brought up to full strength and then some. We also need to send to the nearest crown lands Lord's, and tell them to start mustering their strength. We are vulnerable here with our losses in yesterday's fighting, and…"

OOOOOOO

It was early afternoon when Sansa was roused from her rather torpid sleep by a maid knocking on the door. "Your grace, his highness requests your presence within the hour. I am to help you prepare."

Sansa groaned opening her eyes and looking around, feeling a vague moment of disorientation despite the somewhat familiar environment as the memories of last night clouded through. "Very well," she said frowning as even talking made the wound on her face hurt, and she just knew moving would be painful. "I will need help to make myself presentable." she said grimly.

OOOOOOO

Joffrey smiled pleasantly as Sansa was led to him, guarded by Ser Blount. He sat on the raised dais in an area of the keep's open grounds which had been set aside for executions. In front of him was a long table, on which sat seven plates, with a piece of red cloth covering something on the middle most plate.

Normally executions would happen down at the prison, where the smallfolk could gather to see justice being done, but his mother had vetoed that. The city right now simply wasn't safe. Still, she hadn't told Joffrey he couldn't have his fun. She was too busy organizing the gold cloaks and sending messages to the Crownlands lords, so didn't really care what her son was doing so long as it didn't make her tasks any harder.

"My Lord," Sansa said curtsying formally to him.

"Ah my dear fiancé." he said waving his hand to indicate she should sit in the chair next to him, smiling slightly. "I trust you had a good night's rest?"

"Yes my Lord." Sansa said, bowing her head once more respectfully.

Joffrey peered closely at her face smiling evilly. He could make out the faint marks on her face from his initial blow last night, but Sansa and the maid who had helped her head done a decent job trying to cover it up. Good, it would hardly do to make people think that the girl had been abused after all, rather than simply… chastised in her father's place.

"May I ask why you have sent for me, Your Highness?"

"Ah but I so enjoy your company." Joffrey said taking her hand in his. He loved the small tremor that went through her at that, it made him smile even wider. It was so good not to have to wear his mask any longer. Now he could act as he should've acted all along, as a true King should, taking what he wanted and punishing those that opposed him.

"Your here to see justice done my dear." he went on. "I told you last night that someone had to pay for your father's crimes. Who better to start that process with than the men we captured?"

Sansa's eyes widened in horror at what she was about to see, and for just a moment she contemplated trying to kill Joffrey right there.

But the sight of the two Kingsguard right behind them dissuaded her. She watched horror stricken as several of the men that Joffrey had taken captive were put to death in front of her over the next hour, starting with Ser Willowtree, who had surprisingly been taken captive, the first to die.

The knight showed no fear nor remorse when he was led to the executioner's block. He simply stared straight ahead, his eyes flicking over Sansa for a moment, a faint smile on his lips at seeing her still alive, before he stared with loathing at Joffrey. He continued to do so until Ilyn Payne, the royal executioner, took his head. This seemed to embolden the others, who all went to their death with the same amount of bravery.

It was all Sansa could do to not break her vow of not giving Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Nor did it get any easier. By the end of the hour Seven men had been put to death.

Each head was placed on the plane in front of them, three on either side of the plate that already held something. Joffrey said pointing at them, a wide, almost gleeful smile on his face, as his hand reached for the cloth covering the middlemost plate. "This is what will await your father unless he renounces what he has said of me along with his title."

He pulled back the cloth and Sansa couldn't stop herself from crying out in denial. On the plate was Jeyne's head, her face a rictus of horror and pain. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks, but she couldn't stop them, this was the final straw, and her heart could take no more.

Joffrey laughed then, reaching out to touch Sansa's cheek. She couldn't stop herself from flinching away as he touched the mark on her cheek. "This is what awaits anyone who becomes my enemy my dear, you would do well to remember that. I would hate for your head to join them."

With that Joffrey stood up and left waving his hand to the guards who took Sansa back to her room where she collapsed sobbing.

OOOOOOO

Ranma frowned, staring hard at the flag flying from a ship passing about forty leagues away from them from where he was standing next to the steersman. He could barely make out, but… "Make for that ship." He ordered pointing at it.

Daenerys standing beside him looked at him quizzically. "We're almost within sight of King's Landing, why are you so interested in that ship?"

"Because it's flying my father's flag, and there is only one ship in King's Landing that would fly that flag. And only a few reasons why it would be." he added grimly.

Ranma ordered Fenris to join him at the front of the caravel clearly visible to anyone with a spyglass. Soon enough his ship was spotted from the other deck, and they could see him soon after that. The two ships made for one another, and Ranma smiled as he saw uncle Brynden waving at him, though he wondered where his father was. An icy shiver of fear shot through him at that, but he pushed it to one side for now. "Ahoy there!" he shouted waving one hand it at his uncle.

"I see you've returned." Brynden said calmly when the two ships came close to one another, his voice not giving any hint as to what had occurred in King's Landing just yet. "Successfully?"

"Well, half successful." Ranma gestured to where Daenerys was standing well behind him, her dragons on her shoulders. She stepped forward imperiously, her hair flying in the wind, to smile across at the older man. "But you could say this is the best outcome for the North personally, even if there are loose ends out there." Ranma said dryly.

Soon enough Ranma and Daenerys stood on the deck of the White Harbor ship. Ranma said formally. "Lord Brynden Blackfish, be known to Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. The little ones on her shoulders are Sunfyre and Rhaegon. Don't get too close to them, unless you wish to lose a random chunk of flesh."

"I wouldn't dream of it…" Brynden said, his normal calm intelligence deserting him for a moment at the site of the magnificent creatures. There hadn't been a dragon sighting in over a hundred and forty years, and now there were two little dragons sitting upright as proud as cats on the Targaryen girl's shoulders. He shook himself after a few moments of staring looking at both young people.

Brynden could see things other people missed, often coming to conclusions that would take other people several minutes of observation, and he could tell almost immediately that these two were interested in one another. It was in how close Ranma stood to Daenerys, how he seemed unconsciously to be standing between her and the crew who were all gaping at Daenerys, how at home the little dragons and Daenerys were with him being so close.

It was in how Daenerys looked at Ranma as he did the introductions, not at Brynden, the way she smiled, the way their hands gently brushed. Good grief, they are besotted with one another. I wonder if this is a good thing or bad in the long term, especially with what occurred here.

"Nevermind my story, what's happened here?" Ranma said looking around at the Fish's Scales and the men, both sailors and armsmen, who were watching them. He frowned, not seeing any of the men he had known from their bodyguard in King's Landing, not even Ser Jory. "And where is my father?"

That thought broke Brynden out of his momentary amusement at the two young people, and he frowned sadly. "You had best come below…"

OOOOOOO

"He'll live, but that's about all we can say." Brynden sighed, shaking his head as he looked at the bed where his brother-in-law lay. "Merry and Alayaya did all they could, the rest is up to him. If we had a maester here there might be something one of them could do better but Merry's book learning is the only reason he's still alive." The man shrugged though Ranma couldn't see it, too busy staring at where his father lay, unconscious in the bed.

In his lap lay Merry, who had barreled into him hugging him for all she was worth the moment he appeared in the doorway to Eddard's room. Through her sobs and Brynden's calm, purposefully detached words, they told Ranma what had happened in King's Landing. Now Merry was asleep, safe in Ranma's arms, safe in a way she hadn't felt since confronting Joffrey and utterly exhausted from the past two days.

His mind could barely grasp all the changes that had been wrought in King's Landing since he had left. His eyes were wet with unshed tears at the memory of the young boy who he had taken under his wing, the boy who he had become an older brother to, who he would cheerfully have called king in the future. "Tommy dead, open warfare between our house and house Lannister. I can barely believe it…" he murmured. "I know Cersei didn't think highly of the King, but to do this, to commit treason like that!"

"We don't know who she laid with, or what she was thinking at the time, though if she suddenly remarries someone we might have a better idea." But there's no doubt that all three of her children weren't legitimate you're right about that, and Cersei will crown her bastard son king or may already have done so by this point." Brynden replied, speaking quietly so as to not wake up the grief stricken young girl, who was the only reason Ned was still breathing. Whatever else, that act had won his respect, and she was entitled to her rest now.

"And Sansa is a prisoner among them, possibly along with your nephew, my cousin, or he's dead." Ranma frowned heavily beginning to pace.

"Don't forget that Stannis is already readying his forces for war. How the hell did he get the news so quickly?" Daenerys said, from where she was leaning against the wall. She hadn't wanted to intrude on Ranma and his grief or his reunion with the royal girl, though she had felt a stab of mixed anger and jealousy at that. Anger at her looks, which looked far too much like the Lannister butchers for Daenerys' liking. And jealousy at how close she seemed to be to Ranma.

Yet when she looked at Ranma or his father, all she felt was sadness. House Stark might have been instrumental in Robert's victory against her family , but after interacting with Domeric, and even further with Ranma, Daenerys had long ago realized that they had no choice in the matter. And her growing feelings towards Ranma had easily buried the little bit of residual anger she felt toward the Starks.

"What are you talking about?" Brynden asked, looking over at her, then back to Ranma.

Ranma briefly explained about the ship that had attempted to board them, causing Brandon's eyes to narrow. "I have no idea how Stannis could get the news that quickly," he said seriously. "We had thought to contact him, but the king's death forced our hand before we could. But his being ready to move might explain why the crews from the navy galleys didn't take part in the fighting on either side, they would answer to him as master of Ships after all. You're certain that the captain said there was a rumor going around that the king was dead?"

"Positive, he was quite open about it before the battle actually began." Ranma said, not taking his eyes away from his father's face, which was pale and pasty looking, far removed from his normal stern seeming expression.

"That's damn odd, even a raven couldn't travel from King's landing to Dragonstone so quickly, we're only two days out ourselves. How many days ago was this?" Ranma told him and Brynden's frown deepened. "If I have it right, that would be barely a day after, there's no possible way he could've gotten that news so fast."

"No earthly way my lords." Daenerys murmured shaking her head, voicing a thought Ranma had as well, though for different reasons. "Or no way that we know of, but that isn't the most important thing right now at any rate. What we need consider is what we do now."

Brynden smiled at the girl, though other people would have been irritated at her presumption there. "We keep going, we trust to the size of the bay, leave Dragonstone as far on our left as possible when we exit then turn north toward White Harbor. I'm almost tempted to say we should stop in the Vale at some point to spread the word about the queen and Joffrey, but we can't chance it, not with Lyssa acting so irrationally."

Brynden shook his head sadly. "That hurts to say, given my relation to Lyssa, but it's true. She was paranoid before this, she'll be worse after hearing what has happened in King's Landing. No, we need to get home as quickly as possible, to start marshaling our forces, though with Edmure captured, the Riverlands is in a precarious position."

Ranma sighed, gently stroking Myrcella's head where it lay against his chest. He hated what this would do to Merry when they told her, let alone Tommy's memory. Both of them deserved better, but when was the last time the world was a fair place? For now however he kept his mind on something more serious. "We, I can't let Sansa in the crown's custody. She's my sister, who knows what Joffrey would be willing to do to her to get back at us? And even putting that aside, she would be a hostage against our good conduct. I refuse to let that stand."

"Lad, we can't fight our way through the city just to get to Sansa, that's just not going to happen. We need to march back down with an army at our back, that's the only way."

"We can't." Ranma said with a small smirk, "but I can."

Alayaya looked up at him one eyebrow cocked from where she had been bathing Lord Starks forehead with water. "What do you mean?" The two of them had only spoken a few words to one another since Ranma arrived. Alayaya not being willing to intrude on Ranma's grief for his father or for Tommy, but his voice was once she recognized, and she was eager to see if her guess was right.

Ranma actually smirked at her. "You know damn well what I mean lady," he said then turning back to his uncle. "I'm not talking about trying to force our way through, I'm talking about sneaking my way through."

"It's still too risky. Someone might see you, and alone even you would be overwhelmed Ranma." Brynden said shaking his head. "And even if you could somehow sneak in, there's Stannis to think of now, we can't afford to stay here and wait for you. No, I can't allow this."

"Uncle," Ramos said as he concentrated, "they won't see me." Within one second and the next Ranma had pulled the Umi-Sen-Ken around him, disappearing from their senses for a moment, causing all three to gasp.

OOOOOOO

Ranma raced along the shoreline heading towards King's Landing, moving faster than any save Jon could have even followed with his eyes, let alone kept up with on foot. Even Fenris wouldn't have been able to, but Ranma had left him behind on the Fish's Scales. This was a one-man job, and Fenris couldn't use the Umi-Sen-Ken. It seemed as if the direwolf simply couldn't grasp the maneuver mentally, despite Ghost having come up with his own, much more subtle version.

Luckily it had been early evening when the two ships met up, but he only had until dawn to get his sister out of there. Once the sun was up, he would be easy to spot carrying Sansa, he couldn't extend his technique to cover her, and even Ranma would have issues if they tried to surround him and shoot him full of arrows.

There was also the concerns about Stannis, Brynden had been right about that. He had told them to give him to dawn, but after that, they would have to pull out without him. But Brynden had no idea how fast Ranma could run. Jon and the others who had come with Ranma from Hornwood to Winterfell had some idea, but even they couldn't guess that even on that last spurt he hadn't been moving as fast as he could.

Even so, it took him the rest of the evening and well into the night to cover the distance. He spent the time making plans and grieving for Tommen. If his sweat had become somewhat more salty than usual, there was no one around to comment on it.

Sneaking into the city was easy, the gates were always open and the city itself was still dealing with the aftermath of the battles. All the fires had been put out, but people were still leery of going out at night, and the city was rather dead because this. Even sneaking into the keep was not exactly a challenge.

Figuring out where in Maegor's holdfast Sansa would be staying was very difficult however and in the end he just had to guess at it. He first tried the guest rooms, knowing where they were on the first and second floors below the royal apartments on the third and figuring that Cersei would want to keep her hostage close and in some comfort, especially if she knew that they knew Brynden had Merry with him. But he couldn't find any sign of her there, forcing him to searching silently from one room to the next, climbing silently along the outer walls of the holdfast to peer into each room.

Surprisingly he found Sansa asleep in a bed prepared for her in what he recognized as Merry's room. The two girls had enjoyed several sleepovers together since they arrived in the city. Yet to find his sister still being treated this well was surprising.

That thought remained in his head until he was close enough to see her face by the moonlight, whereupon he noticed the bruising. Ranma's teeth clenched in anger, but he kept it under control for now. Getting Sansa out of here was a priority, revenge could come later. He knelt by the bedside, quickly covering Sansa's mouth with one hand shaking her gently. "Sansa, wake up."

The girl did, gasping a little but Ranma's hand over her mouth covered that, and the fact that she knew that voice kept her from screaming. She looked to her side, astonished to see Ranma there. He smiled at her he murmured. "I'm getting you out of your little sister. let's go."

Sansa nodded wetly, looking torn between crying in joy and simply crying. She reached out quickly, pulling him into a tight hug, before getting up out of bed while Ranma moved back, watching the door warily. She looked up at him as she changed into a skirt she used for riding, a bit less frilly and more form fitting than most she owned, wincing with every movement. "R-Ranma, they, they killed Jeyne. And, and they k-killed Ser Willowtree, and old Royer! They, Joffrey, he, he made me watch! Why did this have to happen?!" She said, each word louder than the last.

Ranma close his eyes, his teeth clenching even more, his hands twitching with his fury. "I'm sorry you had to see that Sansa, but we don't have time to…"

That was as far as he got before the door opened and the night guard peered in. "Who are you talking to Gah!" He fell back, one of Myrcella's combs stuck in his throat, which Ranma had picked up from the nightstand and thrown at him.

Unfortunately he wasn't the only guard on duty, and the second one didn't bother trying to rush into the room, instead he shouted "Alarm, the prisoner is escaping!"

Thanks to being part of the royal suites, there were dozens of guards nearby even this late at night, including the remaining members of the Kingsguard. Before Ranma could turn back to grab up Sansa, several of them had charged in, swords drawn.

Once they saw who was there however the men hesitated. The story of Ranma's prowess had spread before his utter destruction of the Mountain that Rode, after that the tale had taken on a life of its own. This was only helped by him being here in the first place, here in the holdfast with no one having seen him come in or even known he had returned to the city.

Ranma smirked at their caution, moving into the center of the room staring at the men clustered around the doorway. "Such a pity, I don't see Ser Selmy or the Kingslayer with you, their presence could at least have made this a fight rather than a farce. What happened to the Lord Commander, has he finally realized that serving a dishonorable king is the same as dishonoring yourself? Where is Jaime, I owe him for what he did to my father, or are his boo-boos still hurting him?" He ended in a taunting tone, his smirk turning dark.

The men still hesitated, none of them wanting to be the first to charge forward.

Ranma and glanced sideways at his sister. "Which of these assholes was the one who beat you Sansa?"

"S-sir Trent" she said from behind the bed. She had no desire to show her body to these men, and they had burst through just as she was trying to pull on a vest over her bruised back.

Trent's eyes widened in horror and he tried to move backwards to hide behind his fellows, but it was too late. Ranma took two steps forward, faster than any man there could track, there was a brief flash of steel in the air then he was back where he had stood before, flicking his blade sending blood spattering on the ground.

Ser Trent breathed a sigh of relief, I'm not feeling anything for a moment. Then blood began to seep from his neck, and his head slowly slid off his body falling to the ground in neatly severed bones and all. Cries of horror abounded all around, yet no one stood forward, unwilling to be the first to attack the Stark heir even more now than before. Certainly Blount wasn't willing to, at the other knight's death he looked as if he was going to piss himself.

By this time Sansa had finished dressing. She was sprinting out from behind the bed heading towards the window when the Queen pushed her way through the assembled armsmen. She had obviously been roused from bed by the commotion, she still wore her silk negligee, and Cersei's hair was sticking out every which way. Yet her crown was on her head and despite how she must have looked, her eyes were clear and her face composed as she stared hard at Ranma. "Where is my daughter?"

"Your Majesty." Ranma said bowing his head, no irony in his tone. "Myrcella is safe, you should know that I would never hurt her." Ranma paused looking at the mother before him. And right now Cersei was a mother, not the queen. The queen would've been more worried about losing the bargaining chip that was Sansa, the mother was worried about her daughter. And there was something else he needed to say. "My deepest condolences on Tommen's death. Whatever his true parentage I think I might've been proud to call him King, and he was someone I had come to love."

The earnestness of the young man's voice, the fact that his face looked puffy, his eyes red-rimmed in the glare of the armsmen's torches, completely disarmed Cersei for a moment. She stood there, lost in her grief once more, sharing that grief with the young man in front of her.

Joffrey had arrived on his mother's heals, and his teeth clenched angrily as he saw his powerful magnificent mother simply standing there when his deadliest enemy was right in front of her. Even dead you haunt me Tommen! He yelled angrily, laying about with the flat of his blade. "What are you all doing, take him, he's just one man you idiots! Don't let him escape with my bride!"

Prodded like this, the men in the back pushed those in front forward towards Ranma. He grinned in anticipation but a 'Eep' from Sansa reminded him of his priorities here. "Dammit. Stay behind me Sansa, stay with the window at your back."

The first few men now having no choice raised their weapons and attacked. Ranma's weapons flashed, parrying, blocking, thrusting, killing five man in as many seconds before his katar got caught in one man's armored plate. He cursed, letting go of the blade and kicking the man's body into two of his fellows before pulling his other katar out, hurling it through the press of bodies towards Joffrey.

One man however unfortunately got its way, taking the knife straight to his armored head, flying backwards with the impetus of Ranma's throw. But his furious defense had cleared enough space for Ranma to turn, sheathing his blade quickly unmindful of the blood on it, before he lifted Sansa in his arms. "Hold tight!"

With that Ranma leaped out of the window, ignoring his sister's shrill squeak of fright.

He landed easily on the ground, as the men he had left behind began to shout in shock, having never expected him to jump like that. Cersei knew then that there was even more to Ranma's skills than he had showed, and that he could probably get away. She pushed through the men crowding the window, staring down Hard at Ranma as he switched Sansa to his back, just in case he hat to defend them.

"STARK!" She shouted. Ranma looked up at her, as did Sansa, and Cersei smiled sadly, thinking so many what-might-have-beens that she could hardly get the next words out. "Take care of my daughter."

Ranma bowed his head to her. Unlike Brynden or his father, Ranma could see past her actions to the woman underneath, so had no issue with taking her words at face value now, regardless of the fact they would be facing one another across a battlefield soon enough. "I will, your majesty."

With that he turned, racing over the Red Keep's ground with Sansa now clinging to his back like a limpet towards the outer wall of the keep, not stopping as he leaped up landing on the battlements easily before leaping further out to land in the road leading up to the Red Keep.

Sansa had buried her face into his neck the moment Ranma had switched her position, and she clung even more desperately now despite Ranma having both arms underneath her legs as he raced on. He took to the rooftops occasionally, but the Red Keep couldn't get out the word that Sansa was escaping fast enough to catch up with him and he escaped the city easily, leaving behind chaos and a very worried queen and a furious king.

It was several minutes after they had escaped the city that Sansa finally had the courage to lean away from Ranma. The speed they were moving astonished and somewhat terrified her despite her clinging to Ranma, but Sansa had to concentrate on the here and now. "W-what about the others?"

"What others?" Ranma asked looking over his shoulder at her. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead gently trying to calm her down a little.

Sansa smiled faintly, remembering times when she was just out of her toddler years. When Sansa had hurt herself falling she would cry, which would get her minders attention. If he was watching her, Ranma would kiss her forehead just like that then sing this little ditty about the pain flying away.

It had always made her feel better, but nothing could make her feel better now. Childhood was over, never to return and the horror of what she had seen was still vivid in her mind. "Joffrey captured about a dozen men from the battle in the tower. He, he made me watch as that horrible Peyne executed several of them, but there were still more there. And what about cousin Edmure?"

"Uncle Brynden didn't know about the men, but we figured that Edmure had been captured or killed. I'm sorry I never met him, he sounds like he was a good man." Ranma shook his head sadly. "I hate to think about what Joffrey will do to them, especially since I was able to rescue you, but I couldn't have rescued them all Sansa, I only have one back, and Fish's Scales can't wait. There're more enemies than just the Lannisters, and we need to get out of Blackwater Bay as quickly as possible. Even this was a risk, but I couldn't let you there."

Sansa nodded sadly, traveling into his back and telling him about what had happened since the battles had taken place. Despite it having only been a single day, it felt like years to her, years filled with fear, horror and pain as she came to see the true Joffrey under his façade.

Ranma ground his teeth so hard it was audible in the nighttime air at what his sister had gone through in just a single day with Joffrey, and vowed that the young monster's death would be the stuff of legends if Ranma ever got his hands on him. But it had been the same problem as when he had rescued Danny, Ranma couldn't protect Sansa and take on an entire castle full of enemy troops at the same time.

"Is it true?" Sansa said after another twenty minutes of silence while Ranma kept running down the shoreline. "Is Joffrey, Merry and even Tommen all illegitimate? That's what they're saying our father was trying to spread around, but no one believes it or at least no one will say they believe it now."

While she had nothing of Joffrey's pleasure for inflicting pain on his victims, Cersei was utterly ruthless. She had shown that in a brutal purge of the city's power structure, getting rid of anyone who might have been tempted to believe Eddard Stark's 'lies'. After only two days of this and the fact the gold cloaks and others were once more able to keep the peace in the city, no one was willing to speak out against her. A true carrot and stick approach, as it were. {does that make sense?}yes

"It's true. Our father wouldn't have said it if it wasn't, though I haven't talked to him personally. He was badly injured… he'll live!" He hastened to say as he felt Sansa start to shake, but he's still comatose from his wounds."

Sansa still teared up a little at the thought of their father being so badly wounded, but she kept her mind on what Ranma had said. "Were you telling the truth, is Merry really with you?"

"Yes, and so is Alayaya, though how they got to the docks is a story and a half. Ser Oakheart is dead, as is Mattimeo, both of them fell defending Merry and Alayaya."

"I'm sorry!" Sansa sobbed, clutching at his back now. If only I had gone with them, if only I hadn't been in the Tower!"

"The servants would have still been there, and you would've still had to fight your way through the city. Nor did anything you did affect what happened with our father and his men." Ranma said shaking his head. "Don't blame yourself for everything Sansa. It's true I would've preferred you to see Joffrey for what he was earlier, and yes, it might have been your presence that made the Lannisters attack rather than try to starve our people out of the tower, but they would still have had the prisoners in the Tower themselves. And our father would still have been wounded, and the battle would still have gone against our forces. Don't blame yourself for everything, don't denigrate our people's sacrifice like that." Ranma said again, staring ahead of them. "Simply know that you made mistakes, learn from them and move on."

Sansa nodded jerkily, falling silent. She simply clung to Ranma's back as he raced on through the night, more tireless than the direwolf that was part of their House's emblem.

To say the crew of the small boat resting on the shore were astonished at Ranma's return was a gross understatement. They had honestly thought that the young fool had been going to his death, not knowing anything about Ranma's special abilities. But they were loyal man of Lord Manderly, and they would obey Lord Stark as their Lord Paramount and Ranma spoke for Lord Stark.

"Damn son," the bosun said shaking his head. "I didn't think ya could do it."

"Your grace" he said bowing his head towards Sansa. "Er, pleased to see you safe and sound, milady." With the hard task of speaking to the noble born lady over with, the man quickly hustled Sansa and Ranma aboard.

"I won't feel safe or sound until were back in the North, Ser," Sansa replied with all the poise at her control. "When I step foot in White Harbor is the moment I will truly be safe."

That made every man there to sit up straight, squaring their shoulders with pride. Ranma smirked a little at how easily Sansa had made her trust in these men plain while also challenging them. "Will get you there milady," one man said as he began to pull on his oar strongly. "Have no fear of that."

Ranma nodded grim agreement at that leaning back and looking up at the stars as the first flush of dawn appeared in the sky. The ship that had tried to take Daenerys away had gotten off lightly, and Ranma was in no mood now to play Mr. Nice Guy with anyone that tried to stop them getting home. If he had to break out some more of his bag of tricks, so be it.

Soon enough they were being hoisted up the side of the Fish's Scales. Daenerys was there waiting for them with Brynden, who was shaking his head in bemusement that Ranma had actually pulled it off. Daenerys however was unsurprised, smiling in welcome with Rhaegon on her shoulder. Ranma smiled back, and, as Sansa stared at the slightly older girl in front of her, introduced them.

Sansa was in awe of the dragon princess. Even by the light of the lamps here and there on the ship she could tell the other girl was a rare beauty, and the shimmering of her silver hair was mesmerizing. Then there was the drakling on her shoulder, sitting up as proudly as any cat, yet easily recognizable as a dragon, its, wings unfurled slightly behind it for balance.

"Lady Sansa, your brother has told me a lot about you." Daenerys smiled, though it segued into a prankster's smirk after a second. "Mostly embarrassing things it must be said. Did you really try to sew your sisters to her bed when she ripped up one of your dresses?"

Those listening laughed at that, while Sansa went red and began to smack Ranma's shoulder, the ice well and truly broken.

About forty minutes later Sansa was put in the same room with Merry, the two of them sharing the second of only two beds aboard the ship. Daenerys refused flat-out to take it herself, allowing the younger girls to have it. Instead she had a few of the crewmen rig up two hammock for herself and Alayaya. Alayaya had looked a little askance at the hammocks, but resigned as well. Merry was still out of it, not even waking up as Sansa fell into the bed next to her.

The Fish's Scales continued on, under full sail as dawn began to break, speeding along as quickly as they could. After settling Sansa down, Daenerys and Ranma removed themselves to watching over Eddard, whose condition had not changed in the hours since Ranma had left.

After a moment Daenerys spoke, her voice low so as to not disturb the two asleep draklings, Rhaegon having joined Sunfyre in the overlarge basket prepared for them in the corner of the room. "I'm sorry this happened to your family. At least I know my family was wiped out because of the actions of one of our own. Your's has nearly been ripped apart simply because it refused to play the 'game' of politics. I also wish I had been wrong that the unity of Westeros was a fiction, barely covered by a lie, but the Baratheon's rule was never going to be stable enough to last, not when it was undermined from within and built on so feeble a foundation."

"I know, Robert was never strong enough on his own to keep the crown, and he wasn't really suited for it either. But I never thought the queen would have done what she did." Ranma actually had hoped that his shows of force, and the rumors about it, would keep a lid on the shifting balance of power, but it hadn't worked out that way. He sighed, slumping against the outer wall of the room, rubbing at his face tiredly.

The two of them were silent for a time before Daenerys asked. "So what will we do now? And how is this going to effect your plans for me?"

Ranma looked up at her, his face amused. She smiled as he reached out to pull at her hair, gently urging her to sit down next to him. "I think we both know my plans for you changed well before we spotted this ship, don't we?"

"So, then what now?" Daenerys asked, her face flushed at the teasing tender note to his voice.

"Now?" Ranma's face firmed up even as he took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. His mind however was all on the business of the moment. "Now, Joffrey sits on a throne that shouldn't be his, Stannis has seemingly declared us an enemy, the Lannisters hold my uncle prisoner, and the Westerlands will no doubt be marching into the Riverlands soon. Now, we travel north, we return my family to Winterfell. Then? Then we prepare for war."

End chapter

Whoo! What a chapter to write out. I hope you all enjoyed the flow of the battle, if not the outcome. Sorry, but there was just no way after Edmure was captured before rallying the gold cloaks that they could win, the numbers were simply too against them, though they came a lot closer than anyone on the other side would ever have imagined, and both sides paid for it.

In regards for the budding romance between Ranma and Daenerys, I've always thought that public perception and the pressures of those around them would hurt any courting going on regardless of the individuals in question. If they didn't have the needs of their families to worry about Margaery and Ranma would have developed romantic feelings rather than friendly ones toward one another very quickly. Beyond the older man Domeric, Daenerys and Ranma really had only one another to talk to on this voyage, they were attracted to one another from the start, they had the draklings to bond over, and simply a lot of time to sit and talk with no real ulterior motives. Is Daenerys ambitious? Somewhat, but it isn't the central part of her character, that is her deep and growing love for her draklings, and her desire to make her family a proud, honorable one again. Not the same thing.

For those wondering, yes, Joffrey will die in a spectacular fashion in the future, but right now, he and Viserys are both a sign of what I would call the inevitable escalation of enemy forces to match Ranma's ability and the changes he creates. Magic too will have been effected by his presence, as will be shown in the future when I do some Melisandre scenes (ugh, hate her, just as much but in a different way than Joffrey).

So, the civil war has begun, and the sides are set. What will happen next? And what has been happening up North all this time?

Thank you for reading, and as always please review.