While Ned, Robb, and Jon are the three main (third person) POV characters others will make appearances here and there - Arya, Bran, Cersei, etc.

Ned

They were still three days ride from King's Landing, approaching an inn just off the road that they would likely rest at for the night, when they were approached by a group of riders. The riders were mostly composed of men in golden colored armor, except for the two men who led them; one in white and the other in yellow and black. He knew the gold armored men to be members of the Goldcloaks, the city watch of King's Landing. It was rare to see them outside of the city.

As for the two non-gold riders, Ned recognized Ser Barristan, even despite the years that had passed since he had last seen the knight on Pyke. His hair, which still had streaks of blonde during the Greyjoy Rebellion, was now completely white. Yet the man still looked strong and graceful, like he had not lost a step from the legendary knight he was in his youth. Ned knew that when Bran saw Ser Barristan the Bold, his son would likely be star struck. Bran's favorite knight growing up was Ser Barristan, and now he would have a chance to meet his idol.

The man in yellow and black Ned had no idea about, but he looked like Robert did when the two of them were leading a war against the tyranny of the Targaryens, if a few inches shorter and not quite as muscular. That plus the Baratheon colors and it could only be Robert's youngest brother, Renly, who Ned hadn't seen since the man was a child of eight, after he had relieved the siege on Storm's End.

"You grace," Ser Barristan the Bold said, climbing down from his horse to kneel in front of Robert.

"Brother," Renly Baratheon said, bowing his head but not bothering to dismount.

"Up Ser Barristan," Robert ordered. "How many times must I tell you, you do not need to kneel before me so. I'm not a Targaryen, I don't need my ego constantly stroked."

Ser Barristan climbed to his feet and was back in the saddle of his horse in the blink of an eye.

"When the raven arrived that you were at Darry, we decided to ride out and meet you," Ser Barristan said. "Queen Cersei and the royal family arrived in King's Landing as we were leaving."

"Did you not want to travel in the wheelhouse, brother?" Renly asked with a smirk.

"May the Seven see that damn thing burned to the ground," Robert muttered.

Ned greeted Ser Barristan and Renly, and they him, before the two men and their escort of Goldcloaks turned about, and joined the King's retinue.

"King's Landing is the same as always," Renly said. "Nothing's changed since your departure; it still smells like shit unfortunately."

The important things that were going on in the realm were known to Robert, who received ravens during their travel. A few weeks ago, while they were still in the north, the King had received a raven from Varys informing of Daenerys Targaryen's marriage to a great Khal of the Dothraki. Ned and Robert had an argument over that, as Robert wanted to send an assassin to kill the Targaryen girl, who was only fifteen years old, and Ned thought to leave her be unless it became known she was making plans to return to Westeros to try to avenge her fallen family.

The smaller things, like the day to day running of King's Landing were not known, and despite being away from the city for almost five months it appeared Robert had no care to hear them, let alone discuss them. So Ned, in his new duties as Hand of the King, was the one who found himself discussing what was happening in the city.

Most issues in King's Landing seemed to come down to one fact - the city was overpopulated. Its outer walls, which had been set by Aegon the Conqueror ten years after his conquest of Westeros 288 years ago, limited the expansion of the city itself, and the population had finally reached the breaking point. Eventually people would start setting up makeshift shelters outside the walls, but even if it was times of peace, no military commander could allow anything outside the walls like that. They would either need to build new outer walls several hundred feet from the current ones, something that would take years, or they would need to do something to reduce the population.

Those would be decisions that would fall upon Ned to oversee in his new position as Hand. He knew from the history books that overpopulation tended to lead to plague, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Three days later, they finally arrived at King's Landing and Ned laid eyes upon it for the first time in fifteen years.

Riding next to him was Sansa, who stared at the city with wide eyes. "It … it's so big."

"Welcome to King's Landing," Ned said, trying his best to keep the disdain from showing on his face. On the other side of him was the King, who did nothing to hide the disdain he felt. They were still far enough way where the stench of the city had yet to reach them, but it was only a matter of time until their nostrils would fall under assault from it.

The Old Gate was thrown open at their approach, and a long line of Goldcloaks were assembled to escort them though the city and to the Red Keep. A lot of the citizens stopped what they were doing to watch their retinue march through the streets. Curious looks were given to the Stark banners, which hadn't been seen in the city since it was sacked. Those looks turned to terror at the sight of Lady and Bran's still unnamed direwolf, as they padded alongside their owners.

"Get you and yours settled Ned," Robert said, as they arrived at the Red Keep, "and then I expect you and your children in the Great Hall for dinner."

Ned was sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. He had been riding for almost six weeks and wanted nothing more than a hot soak, a quick bite to eat, and then to lay down in a nice featherbed to drift off to sleep. The last thing he wanted was to go to dinner with the King.

"As you command. I will see you at dinner," Ned replied with a bow of his head.

They were led to the Tower of the Hand by one of the Goldcloaks. Ned got Sansa set up in a room near his, and gave rooms on one of the lower floors to Ser Robar, so that Bran would be nearby during Ser Robar's stay in the city. With that settled, he asked Vayon and Jory to get sorted what they could but assured both men that most things could wait until the morrow if needed.

Ned had only a few seconds of peace in his new rooms within the tower when one of Robert's stewards knocked on his door with the news that Grand Maester Pycelle had called an urgent small council meeting.

Ned wanted to tell the steward, and Grand Maester Pycelle, where they could shove the meeting, but decided against such an approach. "My wagons are still straggling through the city. I shall need appropriate garments."

"It will be my pleasure," the steward said.

And so Ned walked straight into the council chambers, bone tired and dressed in borrowed clothing, to find four members of the small council waiting for him.

The chamber was richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes, and in one corner a hundred fabulous beasts cavorted into bright paints on a carved screen from the Summer Isles. The walls were hung with the tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and Lys, and the pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces.

The counselor Ned liked the least, the eunuch Varys, accosted him the moment he entered. "Lord Stark I was happy to hear of the marriage of your son and heir to Lord Manderly's granddaughter. I have prayed for their health and prosperity." His hand left powdered stains on Ned's sleeve and he smelled as foul and sweet as flowers on a grave.

"I thank you for your well wishes," Ned replied. He disentangled himself from the eunuch's grip and crossed the room to where Lord Renly stood by the screen, talking quietly with a short man who could only be Littlefinger. Whenever he saw Renly, it was as if the years had slipped away and Robert stood before him fresh from his victory on the Trident.

"I see you have found the small council chambers without issue," Renly said at Ned's approach.

"I have, thank you. You must forgive me, but sometimes you look to me the very image of your brother Robert."

"A poor copy," Renly said with a shrug.

"Though much better dressed," Littlefinger quipped with a sly grin. "Lord Renly spends more money on clothes than half the ladies at court."

It was true enough. Lord Renly was in a dark green velvet, with a dozen golden stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth-of-gold half cap was draped casually across one shoulder fastened with an emerald brooch. "There are worse crimes," Renly said with a laugh. "The way you dress for one."

Littlefinger ignored the jib. He eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. "I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you."

"She has," Ned replied with a chill in his voice. The slight arrogance of the comment wrinkled him. "I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."

Renly Baratheon laughed. Varys shuffled over to listen.

"Rather too well," Littlefinger said. "I still carry a token of his esteem. Did Brandon speak of me too?"

"Often, and with some heat," Ned said, hoping that would end it. He had no patience with this game they played down here in the south; this dueling with words.

"I should have thought that heat ill suit you Starks. Here in the south they say you are all made of ice and melt when you ride below the Neck."

"I have no plans of melting anytime soon," Ned said, as he moved past Littlefinger and to the table where the Grand Maester sat with his eyes closed. Was the man asleep? "Maester Pyclle, I hope you are well."

Wispy strands of white hair fringed the broad bald dome of Pycelle's forehead. The chain he wore was long and heavy looking, with links made of almost every metal known to man. Tired looking eyes opened and blinked in surprise as they looked at Ned. "Ah Lord Stark, I am glad you are here. Perhaps we might begin soon. I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer."

"As you will." The king seat sat empty at the head of the table. Ned took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his King. "My lords," he said formerly, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"You are the king's hand," Varys said. "We serve at your pleasure, Lord Stark."

As the others took their custom seats it struck Ned forcefully that he did not belong here in this room, with these men. He remembered what Robert had told him in the crypts below Winterfell, I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools.

"We are but five," he pointed out.

"Lord Stannis took himself to Dragonstone shortly before the king went North," Varys said. "And our gallant Ser Barristan no doubt stands guard of the king."

"Perhaps we best wait for Ser Barristan and the King to join us."

Renly laughed. "If we wait for my brother to join us, we'll be sitting here for years. No, he lets the small council do most of the ruling. Though he will issue us commands. Like this morning he asked me to ride ahead of the column with all haste to have Maester Pycelle call this meeting, for he has an urgent task for us."

Renly withdrew a tightly rolled scrap of paper that had the King's royal seal stamped upon it. The scrap of paper was passed up to Ned, who broke the seal and read the letter with a steely gaze.

"Our King wants us to hold a tourney in celebration of our new Hand," Renly declared.

Ned had known of Robert's desire to throw a tourney in celebration of his appointment, but to make it a matter so urgent that it could not wait a day for Ned to at least get settled? What was his friend thinking?

"How much?" Littlefinger asked, mildly.

Ned read the answer off the letter. "40,000 golden dragons to the champion of the joust, 20,000 to the man who comes second, another 20,000 to the winner of the melee, and 10,000 to the victor of the archery competition."

"90,000 gold pieces," Littlefinger sighed. "And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools -"

"Fools we have in plenty," Lord Renly said, his customary smirk making its way across his face.

Grand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlefinger and asked, "Will the treasury bear the expense?"

"You know as well as I do that the treasury is empty," Littlefinger said. "We will have to borrow the money, likely from the Lannisters. We already owe them three million gold, what's another hundred thousand?"

Ned felt his jaw open in surprise. "You mean to tell me the realm is three million in debt?"

"That's just to the Lannisters. We owe another three million gold between the Iron Bank, the Tyrells, a couple of Myrish trading cartels, and the Faith."

This couldn't be. Jon Arryn would never have let something like this happen. "Aerys left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?"

"The Master of Coin finds the money, the King and the Hand spend it," Littlefinger said with a shrug.

Ned had planned on talking with Littlefinger about recouping the cost of fixing the Kingsroad in the north but now thought better of it. He could not in good conscience ask to be made whole for such an expense when the realm was so far in debt.

"This tourney can not continue," Ned said.

"Good luck convincing my brother of that," Renly said.

"Still, we should continue as if it will," Littlefinger said.

"No," Ned said, louder than intended. The others gave him looks and Ned had to remember he was not in the North, where his word came second only to the King. "I apologize my lords, I have been riding for weeks. I am sore and tired, and I am supposed to be having dinner with the King tonight. Let us adjourn for now. I will speak with the King tonight at dinner about this tourney, and we can convene again at a later date."


Dinner was a grand affair that had Sansa's eyes wide with awe as she eagerly drank in her surroundings. The food that had never been served at Winterfell. The gaudy decorations, bright with color compared to the more muted tones of the north. He noticed her eyes sliding over to where Prince Joffrey sat, each time making him wince internally. The crown prince was comely but there was something about the boy that uneased Ned. He wasn't sure what it was but he was thankful for his goodfather making a match between Sansa and Brynden Blackwood, sparing him from having his beautiful daughter betrothed to the prince.

His other child at court, Bran, was more in awe of the men in white cloaks that stood around the perimeter of the room. He looked at them all in some form of worship, like he had done when they were at Winterfell, but most of his attention was to Ser Barristan who stood behind the King. Ned had made Ser Barristan awae of his son's idolization of the knight, mostly so the man would know why Bran stared at him so much.

These men are pale imitations of what the Kingsguard once was, Ned thought at the sight of the Kingsguard members. Some of Robert's Kingsguard had skill, some had honor, but only two of them had both; Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakheart. Ned recalled the Kingsguard as it was under the Mad King, how such brave, skilled, and honorable men served someone so depraved; Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold Hightower, Prince Lewyn Martell, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Jonothor Darry had all died during the war to overthrow the Mad King, some of them needlessly. And in replacing those men Robert had appointed men who paled in comparison.

After dinner ended and he had some of his guards escort his children back to the Tower of the Hand, and before the King got truly drunk, Ned had called Robert's attention.

"What can be so urgent that it cannot wait until the morrow?" Robert demanded as the hall cleared out of the others.

"The tourney you said was urgent enough to need a small council meeting the moment I arrived in the city," Ned answered bluntly. "The realm is millions in debt, we can not afford this tourney."

"Bah. Baelish will find the coin, he always does," Robert answered.

"He finds the coin by borrowing from Tywin Lannister. Do you know the crown owes him three million gold dragons?"

"Lord Tywin is my goodfather, he doesn't care about such a thing."

"Robert, you've beggared the realm!" Ned cried. "It's not just to the Lannisters! There's another three million owed to various others like the Iron Bank."

"You know I've never been good at counting coppers," Robert responded, defensively.

"There's counting coppers and then there's what you've done. We can't hold this tourney."

"I am the King, and I have declared the Tourney of the Hand to all the realm. It will be held."

Robert crossed his arms across his chest and got the look on his face Ned recognized from their youth, the one that said he wasn't going to change his mind. Even under the added fat and the big wiry beard, Ned knew that look well.

"Then at least change it. There's no need for an archery tournament. And let's at least lower the prizes. Even the tourney at Harrenhal didn't award such. 25,000 thousand for winning the joust, 10,000 for coming in second, and 10,000 for winning the melee."

Robert grumbled about it, but he eventually relented and accepted Ned's changes. There was going to need to be even more changes if Ned was going to get the realm out of debt. Given the sheer amount, it would likely take decades for such a thing to happen, and if it ever did it would be under a different King and a different Hand, but he at least needed to start the process.

There was more out of the King that Ned needed. "I also need you to attend the next small council meeting."

Robert coughed on the wine he was drinking, some of it spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto his beard. "By the seven, I hate those things."

"To fight this debt I'm going to be making changes that are going to upset some people. To avoid any issues, I need you to give your approval."

"I made you my Hand, you already have my approval to do as you please."

"I need them to see you give the approval. Promise me you'll attend."

Promise me. Promise me, Ned.

"Alright, alright! I'll attend! You nag worse than a woman, I swear."

Ned wanted to pause spending by the crown on everything except food and servant pay until he could go over the books with the help of Vayon. He imagined that might upset those who used the royal treasury to buy things, like he suspected Renly did for his clothing. They would need to discuss increasing taxes, likely on trade, which was sure to upset many people across both Westeros and Essos. There would also need to be discussion of a payment plan to those the realm owed money to, but that would have to wait until they could figure out where the money would come from.

On top of that Stannis would either need to come back to King's Landing or give a good reason as to why he had left without a word to anyone, otherwise his position on the Council would be replaced. Ned would much prefer for Stannis come back to King's Landing, as he felt he was one of the only members of the small council he could trust. If not, he had in mind a few choices of who could possibly replace the man.

He also had a few ideas on decreasing the population of the city. Ideas that would add to the debt, if by a small amount, but would hopefully benefit the city and the realm.

With Robert's promise to attend the next meeting, Ned went back to the Tower of the Hand. He was escorted by a few members of his personal guard, including Jory.

"Jory, I would like you to send some men into the city tomorrow. Have them wear plain garb so as to not be identified with myself or the crown, and have them talk to the people. I would like an idea of what the people are saying, and what they think."