*I am sorry for the long wait. For some reason, this was the most difficult chapter to write, I cannot say why, as I do not know myself. I had such writer's block that I feared I'd never finish it. It was so bad, I am already a third done with the next chapter before I finished this one.
**ATTENTION: At Eddard's POV, a torture scene happens. It is nothing too brutal, but it is torture nonetheless. You've been warned if you wish to skip this.
299 AC
Tyrion Lannister
It had happened ever so quickly. Four days ago, he had seen to the downfall of Petyr Baelish, and his own ascension as the Master of Coin. Three days ago it was quiet. Yesterday…yesterday was a day that would be remembered forever. Eddard Stark, the ever cold and able administrator, had called the Small Council to order. It had surprised many of their members as that day was an off day. He had been present of course, Pycelle as well, the grey-sunken cunt. Jason Mallister had also been present as well. There had been a certain tension emanating off of the Lord Hand, but he had brushed it aside.
'Where is Lord Stannis?' He remembered asking to the silence of the Quiet Wolf.
'Off on a mission to the realm, Lannister.' He had almost sneered.
Tyrion had been offput by his tone. He was not used to being shown kindness, but in the time he had known the Lord Stark, he had treated him based in his own merit, not on his views. Where had this change in attitude come from?
Pycelle had droned on and on about matters of little import. Mallister at least had useful reports to share as well. He soon learned that the Lord of Seagard was…more a sailor than an administrator he learned. Oh he was capable enough of course. Better than the average lord any way; but he had nothing special. His goals were to the upkeep of the Royal Fleet, not the improvement of it.
Perhaps he couldn't blame the man; it was tough to follow in the shoes of a man like Stannis Baratheon. The sour-faced bore was stern and ruthless, but he was just and fair. He had heard from eavesdropping in the taverns and whorehouses that many sailors appreciated his methods. The sea was a hard life, and it created hard men.
Regardless, they had been in the middle of some conversation about the Dothraki matter from Varys when a pounding sound came from the chamber doors. At the flick of his finger, Lord Stark motioned for Ser Boros to reach for the door, but there was a strange look in his eye. Being the pariah of Westeros had taught him to look and observe people more so than usual.
Ser Boros reached the chamber doors and opened them a crack to check who it was. He didn't have a chance to when the entire door was blown open with a hard kick. Ser Boros was kicked backward with the door and fell to the ground. A pathetic excuse for a knight. After, in walked none other than Lord Stannis himself. Before Ser Boros could even respond, Stannis bent down and slashed his throat with a dagger.
The Seven Hells opened up. Lord Mallister jumped up and laid his hand on the pommel of his sword. Varys backed away into a wall, worry, but not panic, on his face. Pycelle was shouting about traitors and Ser Mandon had brandished his sword and was about to advance on Stannis.
"Stop!" A deep, controlling shout went out, silencing the room. "Ser Mandon…sheath your weapon."
"But-"
"Now." Ser Mandon slowly sheathed his blade once more. "My lords, you'll have to forgive Lord Stannis for his methods. He is cleaning up the traitors in our midst."
"Wha-wha-what do you mean my Lord Hand?" Pycelle questioned.
"My lords, since the marriage of the King to Cersei Lannister, a great plot has arisen. Cersei has been laying with her brother the Kingslayer for decades."
"My lord, surely this is the work of some-"
"Further, it appears that the product of their intermingling has not been hidden so well. Neither Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, nor Crown Prince Joffrey are actually Baratheons. Rather, Lannisters born from the incestual relations of the Queen."
The chambers were quiet. "This is madness!" Pycelle exclaimed.
"Is it?" Eddard Stark questioned. His voice was not controlling in any way. It seemed he was thinking more on a cold memory than the matter at current hand. "I had seen the madness of the Mad King, like many of you. I saw the madness of the Silver Prince too. Tell me…you have all examined the children. Lord Mallister…what can you tell me of Joffrey?"
The war-hardened man gulped, no doubt in fear of what his true thought would lead him.
"Fear nor my lord. Should anything happen to you from your words, find comfort it will happen to me as well."
Lord Mallister nodded. "We've all seen the signs my lords. The madness grows. We heard stories, knew that he was petulant. It wasn't until I saw the prince himself that I saw it was more than that."
Pycelle spoke now. "It doesn't matter! There is no proof that they are the spawn of incest!"
Just before the chambers exploded into another argument, Lord Stark quieted the room. "My lords, the realm over knows of my honor. I shall stand by it. For all those who see the truth, and for all those that hold onto the lies, I declare this so: I decree that intangible proof must be found or given within the next two days. After two days have passed, and no proof has been made, then I shall resign myself for the position of Hand of the King and shall relieve myself back to Winterfell."
Many, including himself, were surprised at such a declaration, none more so than Stannis Baratheon himself.
Stannis Baratheon
The Wolf of the North declaration was more than alarming to him, it was stupidity. Unfortunately for him, his scouring of the Queen's chambers turned up nothing, much to his chagrin. He had yet to inform the Stark of that. He worried he was relying too much on his own, non-existent discoveries.
In his thoughts, Lord Stark had already called for his personal army to escort the council members to their own personal chambers. Waiting at the chamber doors were a squadron of the elite 'Hunters of the Guard', Ned's very own elite troops.
"Lord Baratheon?"
His attention raised, he turned to see that it was the Quiet Wolf who called him. "My Lord Hand?"
"Are you well, you seem pale."
"My lord, I wish you hadn't declared such a promise, it was unfortunate, but I was unable to find proof within the Queen's chambers."
Even though he was worried himself, Lord Stark did not react at all, keeping his cool veneer on at all times.
"My lord?"
"Fear not Stannis, I planned for this contingency. In the event that you were unable to find proof, I simply require the confession of either the Queen or the Kingslayer."
And then the Quiet Wolf smiled, not warmly, a cold, deathly smirk of a predator. An animal who knew his prey was close. And he couldn't help but to shiver.
"In that case, we must break the Kingslayer…the Queen will never admit to it."
Eddard Stark flashed a toothless grin. "Oh I wouldn't believe that so fast. She is a mad bitch, she may put up a true resistance, but…can she do it when her lover is there as well?"
"My lord?"
Ned Stark leaned back in the chair, sinking into thought himself. "Lord Tyrion has a sellsword in his employ, yes?"
He nodded in affirmation.
"Summon him, the Crown has need of his services. After all, there hasn't been a Lord Confessor in many decades.
Stannis bowed and left the chambers, Lord Stark oddly at rest in the stressful situation. As he walked with his guard to the wing set aside for the Master of Coin, he came to a realization. So many in the south thought of the Quiet Wolf as an honorable fool, too deep in the traditions of his forebearers to see the real world. Yet, it was us who have been taken for fools. The Starks did not rule for eight thousand years simply by being fools, they did exactly what Eddard Stark was doing. A stag may be a pillar of strength, a lion may be as ferocious as a charging warrior, but a wolf…a wolf is a fearsome predator. They stalk…they track…and they lie in wait. They make no foolish mistakes, they are patient, and willing to let their prey come to them.
To play the Game as a southerner was confusing, mind-boggling. So they simply changed the rules.
He had to admire the man for that.
Approaching the little lion's chambers, one of the Stark guards saw him and pounded on the door before entering. "Lord Stannis Baratheon, Master of Laws!" The guard announced.
Entering the chambers with two of his own, he found the said Lannister lying on some pillows, drinking with the sellsword and…well a whore.
"Ah, if it isn't the Master of Laws himself, in the flesh!"
He wished to verbally spar with the half-man, but just as Ned Stark was cold, he too was unforgiving. Without a second glance, he turned his attention to the sellsword.
"Bronn, you've been summoned by the Hand of the King in the name of Robert Baratheon. Come with me now."
"Oh, and what if I see fit that ain't want to go with your lordship?" Bronn responded in a strong accent.
He simply rolled his eyes. "Fear not sellsword, the Lord Hand is offering a job, you'll be well rewarded."
He had barely finished before the sellsword was up and waiting for him. "Let's go mi' lord! Gots' a job to do."
He had escorted Bronn back to the council chambers, but when he had arrived, a northern Hunter guided him to the dungeons. Neither the Queen nor the Kingslayer were held in the Black Cells, but were under arrest, nonetheless. Standing out in the hall, speaking with Ser Jory, Lord Stark stood. At his view, Stark excused himself from Ser Jory and approached the two of them.
"Bronn?"
"That's right."
"You are to refer to him as Lord Hand." Stannis interceded.
"Peace Lord Baratheon, peace." Stark turned his attention to the sellsword. "Bronn, I have need of you. What I want you to do is something that must not be repeated beyond these walls, should you repeat any of it, I shall have you hunted down and ensure your body is never found. If you accept this job, and follow my words, you can expect a knighthood, a payment of three hundred dragons, and a parcel of land anywhere you see fit."
Bronn initially smirked at the amount of money. "Anything else?"
"None. You may not repeat anything that is about to occur to anyone, including Lord Tyrion Lannister."
"Sounds a'ight mi' lord. Le's get to it then, shall we?"
Without acknowledging him, Stark turned around and gave an order for his men to secure the hall and to ensure that no person passes between the rooms. Next, he ordered to have the three children separated into different rooms; Myrcella and Tommen were allowed to remain together.
"Bronn; this is what is going to happen: I will have the Kingslayer brought into the Queen's chambers. I will question her, if she refuses, I will tell you to do things to the Kingslayer. Make sure they are slow and painful, but not debilitating; we want answers, not corpses."
Bronn didn't bat an eye. "Understood mi' lord."
"Stannis, until the matter is handled, you have full authority to run the realm and hold open or closed court. I hope this doesn't take more than a day."
"Yes, my Lord Hand."
Eddard Stark
He had The Bitch secured before he did anything else. He had two of his Hunters aim their arrows at her, she'd know why in a moment. He then had the heavily chained Kingslayer brought in. "Your Grace, Ser Jaime." He greeted.
Cersei only stared at him with hatred, but the Kingslayer continued to give him a look of smugness. "Lord Stark, what a pleasant surprise."
"Silence." He turned to Cersei and spoke only to her, but loud enough for both of them. "This is how this will happen. I will begin asking you questions. You will tell me, and you will tell the whole truth. Any part of silence on you end, or dishonesty, then Bronn here-" He gestured to the apathetic man. "-will make life for your brother…very unpleasant. In addition if you or him try to escape in any way, these two men here will put arrows into her head and spine faster than you can blink, understood?"
He took a seat just to the side of the Queen, allowing her full vision to her brother. "Let's get started. "Cersei Lannister; is this your brother, Ser Jaime Lannister?"
Silence.
He let out a sigh. "I feared you would have need of encouragement." He turned around to look at Bronn. "Cut him."
The sellsword, using a wicked blade, sliced open the Kingslayer's tunic and made a long slice across his chest. "Ha! You'll want to do more than that if you want anything Stark!" The lion called out.
Ignoring him, he once more gazed at the Queen. "Is this, Ser Jaime Lannister, your brother?"
She was quiet once again, but just as he was about to turn to Bronn again, she called out. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, this is my brother Ser Jaime Lannister."
"Good, see how easy this can be." He coldly asked. "Have you ever laid with Ser Jaime, in the manner that a man and wife do?"
"I will kill you for this." Cersei responded quietly. "No…no you won't. Cut him again."
Bronn leaned down and made another long drag across the chest, Cersei's jaw twitched but made no other movement.
"Have you laid with Ser Jaime in the manner of husband and wife?"
"I should have been born a man; I would be twice the man you are."
He sighed again; they were getting nowhere. "Very well, cut him…more intimately."
Bronn nodded and used his blade to take an entire chunk out of Ser Jaime's left ear. "Again." Both Bronn and Cersei were surprised at this, as he had yet to ask another question.
Bronn cut another chunk out of the other ear.
"Have you, ever laid, with your brother?" At this point, the Kingslayer was breathing heavy, grunting and trying not to whimper from the excessive and quick cuts to his body.
"My brother would die for me, pup!" Cersei lashed out.
"Yes…yes he would, wouldn't he?" He turned and gazed a thoughtful look at Ser Jaime before standing up.
"No, you will not break for your brother." The Bitch smiled as if she had one her victory. If only she knew. From his limited experience, Cersei Lannister was a dimwit in disguise. So dressed in others' power, she did not realize she had none herself. Though he barely understood the game of the South, as to why he was changing it, it appeared she had no understanding…no, that was wrong. She had a misguided understanding.
"Very well." He smiled at Bronn. "Change of plans. She will not break for her brother…so let's see if he will break for her."
Bronn had trouble looking at him. As a sellsword no doubt he had seen the more gruesome aspects of life…yet he had never seen the work of a quiet wolf.
He turned to Ser Jaime. Let's continue, though the rules are switched. I am going to ask you questions, and any silence, deflection, lie, or snarky comment shall result in violence against your sister."
"Ah, there it is. That's the true wolf of the North. A man with no honor, nothing but a wild dog." Ser Jaime sputtered.
"I told you that snarky comments would not stand." Ser Jaime's face twisted in horror as he saw him motion to Bronn. "Cut her…perhaps to make it difficult to walk."
Kneeling, Bronn grabbed one of Cersei's ankles, and held it high, raising her foot into the air. He twisted the blade and made a slice along the sole of her foot. Cersei, unused to the pain of blades as opposed to her brother, let out a grunt and whimper.
"I'll kill you! I'll mount your head on a fucking spike!" Ser Jaime called out.
He turned to Ser Jaime. "What did I say about snarky comments?" In a tone as a parent may berate a child. "Again, the other foot." And Bronn repeated the punishment.
"I hope the gravity of the situation has been made clear to you Kingslayer. Let's begin; have you laid with your sister?"
"Don't tell them a fucking thing!"
"Ooh, such harsh language from a lady. Bronn?" Bronn, using his knife, made a long cut along her back, starting at the right shoulder blade.
"Have you ever laid with your sister?" Ser Jaime was struggling. Evidently, he had a much softer spot for his sister. This had always been a part of his plan. Soften up Ser Jaime, than land the killing blow.
"I…I…"
"This is taking too long. Bronn?"
"Wait!...wait."
"Have you something to confess?"
Just before Ser Jaime spoke, a banging came from the door before one of his men entered.
"Norm?"
"Mi' Lord. Word from Lord Baratheon; a messenger from the King in Storm's End. His Grace has ordered that Cersei Lannister and Ser Jaime Lannister be executed."
He turned to the two captives. "Well…it seems we've much to discuss."
