Song of A Northern Sorcerer

by ffdrake

Darth Nox crash lands onto the frozen land of the North after barely escaping an ambush from the Zakuul Empire. Alone and without resources and with no hope of rescue, Nox decides to make the best of his situation and attaches himself to nearest available option until he can rebuild his powerbase and influence. And with his arrival, the fate of Westeros will be forever changed.

40. The Games Begin Part 3

Well hello everyone. I'm back and not dead. The last few months have been…well hectic would be an understatement. Work went to hell in a handbasket and was determined to hit every 'fuck you' rock on the way down. Lost a relative. And then had a mental break which led to a severe bout of depression, which has now led me to therapy and a slow recovery, for myself and my family. So, to say that writing has bene low on my list of priorities would be an understatement. But, now I'm on the mend and doing a lot better and got some form of muse back enough to start writing once more.

I want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, altered, or added this story to your favorites. All of your support has been hugely motivating to me.

Now, onto the less good news. Honestly, I don't know if I will be able to keep up a regular updating schedule. I will keep writing, just no promises on release dates as honestly, my free time is extremely limited to non-existent. And, having said that, a lot of people are messaging me about continuing my IATB (HP/SW crossover) series. Honestly…at this time I don't see myself continuing it any time soon. I'm committed to finishing this story, but once it's complete…while I don't want to say that I'm gonna be hanging up the writing game…I will see what life looks like before committing to another work.

Having said that, I have found that one thing that I enjoy is brainstorming story ideas with people. I don't have the time to beta read, but if you want to PM me a story idea you want to write and you want to bounce some ideas off of someone, I am more than happy to volley a few ideas around with you! The only thing I ask is, if you do PM, have patience. I will answer your PM's when and if I can!

And lastly, shoutout to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!

Chapter 40

Pushing herself to move as fast as she could while in her sleeping dress, Nyra Nox, wife of Lord Alim Nox and temporary Master of the Arcane, fought to remove the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she hurried down the corridors of the Red Keep, doing all she could to keep pace with her liege, Lord Eddard Stark. She just barely managed to close her eyes to drift off to the world of dreams when she'd been woken by the frantic pounding on her chamber doors by one of the Stark men-at-arms. The King had sent a summons for both her and Lord Stark that they were to report to his chambers immediately. Not wanting to make the King wait, Nyra hadn't even bothered to change out of her sleeping dress, and instead had simply pulled on a pair of shoes before hurrying out of her chambers, just in time to see Lord Stark come down the hall from his own chambers. And from with only a passing glance at each other, the two had set off at a brisk pace for the royal wing of the Red Keep.

As they approached the King's chambers, she noticed that more than a few of the servants were ducking their heads and moving about their assigned tasks quickly. Having been a serving girl herself before being taken in by Alim, she knew that something bad was happening if the servants were acting like this.

Rounding the corner so that the King's chambers would be in sight, they found all of the Kingsguard, including Ser Barristan, standing outside the chamber doors. Even from down the hall, they could hear the enraged voice of Robert, the King yelling so loud that his words were unrecognizable. And underneath his yelling, she could hear an equally loud Cersei yelling right back at him. And underneath even her voice, Nyra could hear something that…sounded almost like a wounded animal crying in agony.

Of the Kingsguard, only Ser Barristan held his calm. Ser Jamie had a death grip on his sword and looked like he was ready to charge into the room. While the remaining guards were all shifting nervously back and forth, clearly trying to ignore what was happening behind them.

"Ser Barristan," her liege called out as they approached the chamber.

"Lord Stark, Lady Nox," the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard nodded in greeting, just as a loud and vicious slapping noise came from the other side of the doors. "The King, Queen, and Crown Prince await you."

Without even breaking stride, Nyra followed Lord Stark past the Kingsguard and into the king's chambers. What awaited them was chaos. The chamber looked like it'd been turned upside down. Anything that hadn't been firmly attached to the floor, and by the looks of things some that even had been, were overturned or outright destroyed, leaving splinters of wood, metal, porcelain, and numerous other materials scattered across the floor and walls. The Queen was just starting to rise from the ground, the side of her face red from where the King had just struck her. And as for Robert, he was standing in the middle of the destruction with his back turned towards them and his chest heaving as he stared down at the crumbled, bloodied and beaten form of the Crown Prince at his feet with his fist raised.

"Robert!" Ned yelled, bringing a stop to what was happening.

Nyra's womanly instinct told her to immediately go to the Queen and see if she was alright. But a quick glance at the Queen told her that if she did so, it would not be received well. So, she kept her place beside Ned as the Kingsguard quickly closed the doors behind them, sealing them in the room with the mess that was the royal family.

"Ned," Robert breathed, turning his head to look at them yet not lowering his fist. A fist that Nyra now realized was covered in blood, the Prince's blood.

Crossing the distance, Lord Stark stood beside the King. He made no apparent move to stop what was happening, but it was clear to Nyra that her liege would step in should the King continue. "What in the name of the gods is going on?"

Robert snarled, a low growl that should've come from a beast and not a man. "Well, you little shit? Do you want to tell the Lord Hand what the fuck you have done?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, Ro—"

"Misunderstanding, my ass!" Robert roared, glaring at Cersei, who immediately shut up and curled in on herself. Nyra might not care for the Queen, but in that moment she did feel sympathy for the woman. "This little shit deserves far more than my fist! And so do you for trying to pro—"

"Robert!" Ned said, more urgently, bringing a stop to the King's tirade just as the large man made a move to strike the downed Prince again. "What. Happened?"

Visibly taking control of himself, the King stepped away from the whimpering Prince and marched towards the only objects that weren't destroyed in the room, a small table and a pitcher of wine. As soon as he was gone, Cersei rushed past them, falling to her knees beside the prince.

"Renly actually started doing his fucking job and got word that there was a blood pit being held in King's Landing," Robert said, pausing to take a heavy drink. "A fucking blood pit, here right under my fucking nose! Well, he somehow managed to find it and took a few dozen Goldcloaks, that fucking Tyrell boy, and a few of the Kingsguard and raided it. And low and behold, who was amongst the patrons? The crown-fucking-prince of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Nyra was not usually a woman to curse, but at that moment she badly wanted to as the pieces fell into place as to what had brought about this situation. Blood pits, another name for a fighting pit, were outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms. And for good reason as well in her opinion as the primary fighters were either the desperate, or slaves. If the fact that the Crown Prince was a patron of such an establishment…It would not be good.

"I told you!" Cersei screamed. "He didn't know where he was, and was simply wand—"

"Don't try and shovel that horseshit on me, Cersei!" Robert roared, making the Queen flinch and the Prince whimper. "Do you think I'm so fucking rash as to bring this sort of punishment against my own blood without having all the facts first? The fighters and several others were questioned, and all admitted that not only was Joffrey there, but he was a frequent fucking patron! If he was anyone else, his head would already be on a fucking pike right now or he'd be halfway to the fucking Wall!"

Visibly taking control of himself, Robert gave off one last growl and turned towards the chamber doors. "Kingslayer, get your ass in here."

Ser Jamie walked in, and Nyra could instantly see his eyes move to his sister and the crown prince, not the King. She saw his eyes harden and his fist tighten, though he wisely did not put them on the hilt of his sword, despite clearly wanting to. "Take your sister and my shit excuse for a son to the Maester and see them treated," Robert ordered, clearly putting both out of his mind as he purposefully turned his back on all of them.

Ser Jamie did so, quickly ushering his sister and nephew out of the room. Although, given his state, Prince Joffrey could barely walk and had to be half-carried. Once they were alone again, the King sighed heavily, taking the pitcher with him, and dropping heavily into one of the many broken chairs within the room. It may have had its legs broken and its backrest snapped completely off, but the cushions that sat upon the seated area still worked just fine as the large Baratheon settled upon it.

"Gods fucking damn it all to the Seven Hells," the king grumbled, draining the entire pitcher before distractedly tossing the thing aside to shatter on the floor. "You were fucking right, Ned. You and Nox… You were both right. That boy… He isn't right."

Nyra felt a lump form in her throat as she knew what was coming. Her husband had already informed her privately about the King's concerns with the Crown Prince, and how he wanted her husband and Lord Stark to try and transform the boy into something resembling a proper King. Her husband had told the King that it was a lost cause, that the boy would never truly be ready for kingship, and that he should never sit upon the Iron Throne. With what the King was saying, she knew what was coming next. And the issues…and potential war…that it would cause.

"Robert," Lord Stark tried to say gently. "There is still time to—"

"No there fucking isn't, Ned." Robert sighed, the King seemingly aging ten years or more before her very eyes as he lowered his head in a defeated manner. He then started coughing, a wracking cough that shuttered his whole body and forced him to bring a hand to his mouth. A hand that came away red with his own blood as the fit passed. "That boy is the Mad King come again. I can see it. Nox sees it. And I know you see it as well. So don't try and feed me that horseshit that he can be taught differently and change. There is no hope for him…I was just too much of a fucking idiot to see it."

Getting up, Robert started pacing, leaving her and Lord Stark to wait for him to speak again. "On the marrow I'll be going hunting Ned. After all of this…I need to kill something with my own two hands. I'll be taking Tommen with me. And when I get back…I will make my decision as to the Throne's succession known. Until then, I name you as Acting Regent, as is your right as Hand of the King. And you Nyra, I'm not naive enough to think that you don't know what's going on or what this will lead to. I also know the Sorcerer and what he's capable enough to know that you more than likely have a means of communicating with him far faster than any raven. Get word to him and get his ass back down here immediately. We're going to need him…Far sooner than I would have liked given the shit storm I'm about to start up."

The uneasy feeling in her gut was doubling, no, tripling now. She knew what was coming. The king intended to disinherit his eldest son and pass on the throne to another. While this had been done in the past, it was never a seamless transition and always resulted in bloodshed on some scale.

Nodding, Nyra excused herself, quickly leaving the King and Lord Stark to talk more away from her ears. Without hesitation, Nyra made her way back to her chambers, leaving her two guards almost needing to run to keep up with her. Arriving at her chambers, Nyra quickly sealed herself within and went to her traveling chest. Opening the chest, she pressed down on one of the panels on the interior of the lid, revealing a small hidden compartment that had a thin Valyrian glass candle lying within.

Taking the candle, Nyra crossed her legs and sat down, setting the candle down upon the floor just before her. 'You can do this, Nyra,' she tried to encourage herself as she focused on her breathing and closed her eyes. After realizing that she was developing Force sensitivity, Alim had begun teaching her how to use the candles. But she had barely been able to get any practice in with him at all before they were forced to separate at Harrenhal. Despite the limited instruction, she had been able to use the candle as a far-eye, but she had only been able to see only a few dozen steps or so away from where she was when using it. And now, she was being asked, no, instructed to use the candle to not only find her husband, who was north of the Wall, but to also contact him and inform him of what was going on so that he could drop everything he was doing and come south.

It was far harder than she remembered, but she was able to make a connection with the glass candle through the Force, and she began seeing the far side of the room as if she were looking through a far-eye and not sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. Pushing her sight out of the room, she saw the sprawling landscape of Kings Landing laid out before her as if she were a bird soaring overhead.

The land beneath her lurched and blurred, the clouds and air around her rushing past faster than anything had the right to move. The rushing slowed, and she saw herself over a road surrounded by fields and trees with no other signs, villages, or holdfasts nearby. She could feel exhaustion taking hold. She'd never tried to see so far before, and while she could feel the strain on her body even if her sight was so far away. She tried to move again, but it was like she'd run headfirst into a wall and next she knew she was back in her chambers. Her sight was spinning and it took her a moment to regain her bearings enough to realize she was laid out on the floor with the glass candle still sitting upright before her.

Pushing herself upright, Nyra wiped at the sweat on her brow, frowning as she realized just how much there was, and with just how tired she was. 'Sleep will come later,' she thought, resetting herself before the glass candle and closing her eyes once again. 'Alim…where are you? I need you. Now more than ever. And for more reasons than one.'

---

Sitting quietly in a secluded corner of the Red Keep known only to a select few, Petyr Baelish idly swirled a glass of Dornish Red as he waited for what was about to come. Having the blood pit exposed to the gold cloaks and the Kingsguard had been a calculated risk on his part, one he had not taken lightly. He truly made good coins off the pit, rivaling even some of his most profitable brothels. But in the end, he concluded that the temporary loss of coin would be worth it in the long run. So, he'd given a few silvers to a dozen different peasants, all of it going through two or three different intermediaries before they got the coin to avoid it tracing back to him, with instructions that they were to reveal the time and location of the blood pit. And when word reach the current Captain of the gold cloaks, one Baelish was set to replace as soon as he could as the man was one of the few not in his employ, the Captain and Renly acted just as he suspected. Ordering an immediate raid on the blood pit to capture or kill all who were there, setting the stage to expose Joffrey as a premier patron of the blood pit.

And now, he was at the next and honestly a much more crucial part of this gambit. Convincing the idiot boy that he truly was still on his side and had no part in the prince being caught and brought before the King.

Hearing heavy footfalls on the tiled floor, Petyr sat down his glass of wine and stood, ready to receive the would-be Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

As soon as the prince entered their little private sanctuary, it took all Petyr had not to chuckle at the state of the boy. The boy had been beaten severely as if he were nothing more than a pathetic whipping boy. Both eyes were darkened, his lip swollen and cut, several bruises were forming on his face and Petyr could see that the boy was limping slightly and favoring one arm over the other. "My Prince." That was as far as Baelish managed to get before the little pounce started on him.

"Save your whining, Baelish! My patience is not what it usually is!" Baelish wanted to scoff at that. The boy had no patience to begin with. Although, if it wasn't for the fact that Baelish had the two Lannister guards escorting the prince firmly under his employ, he would honestly be a little worried with the rage in the boy's eyes. But should he act out…Well, accidents can happen. And given the state of the King and the whispers around the Red Keep, Joffrey's sudden disappearance would not be overly missed.

"Of course, my Prince."

Joffrey did nothing but pace back and forth a few dozen times before grabbing the bottle of Dornish Red, taking a swig from the bottle. He made a disgusted face and threw the bottle against the far wall. "It's all their fault! My father. The Starks! My Uncles! All of them! This – This is all their fault! They – They want me gone. I – I heard those simpering maids mutter about my father disowning me. Me! I'm the next King! He can't…It's all the Stark's fault! He's whispering in my father's ear and my father is too weak to resist him! And now…now…" Joffrey huffed. For a moment, Baelish thought the spoiled brat was about to cry. But then the momentary weakness passed, replaced by a crazed but almost hard look in his eye. "I want them gone, Baelish. Now. The Starks. The Sorcerer's whore. My uncles… All of them. I want them all gone."

Petyr wanted to smile, but he managed to keep it off his face. His gambit had paid off and Joffrey had been given the last little push that he needed. "Things can be…expedited, my Prince. However, rushing such delicate matters does incur a certain amount of risk."

Joffrey just glared at him. "Do what you have to, Baelish. You will have my backing and protection. Just get them out of my city at least. Or, if you can, get their heads on spikes… If so, I will make sure you have all the protection you need and anything you desire when I take up my rightful place on the throne."

'Perfect.' Spreading his hands, Petyr bowed his head in subservience. "As you command, your grace. So, shall it be done."

---

Sitting on the Iron Throne, Ned fought against the urge to twitch and move about as he tried to find a comfortable place to sit on the blasted pile of swords. Ned knew well the legends that said that the Iron Throne had a will of its own, that it would reject those unworthy by making them uncomfortable. A legend many believed true, especially as it was well known that the Mad King would cut himself several times a day while sitting on the blasted thing. But now that Ned was sitting on the throne, albeit temporarily, he was convinced that the throne, while intimidating, was just a shit design in the first place. The blades that made up the throne were not smooth in the least. He could feel at least two edges on the seat that made him constantly shift his weight and there were a couple on the back rest that poked into him, preventing him from leaning back. And both arm rests had sharp edges that'd already nicked the sleeves of his tunic, though thankfully hadn't scarred his flesh.

If he had the choice, he would never sit on the wretched throne. Yet, it was not his choice. Robert was gone, hunting to clear his head after the debacle with Joffrey and the blood pit which, with the gods' favor, had not become well known throughout the court. And on top of taking a small portion of the court with him, Robert had also taken Tommen with him as well, much to the protest of the Queen. But, with the King now gone, it fell on Ned to sit on the Iron Throne and see to the day-to-day details of running the Seven Kingdoms while his friend, brother, and King was out enjoying what little time he had left.

Feeling a slight prick on his hand, Ned fought to keep the grimace off his face as he refocused his attention back on the courtier standing before the throne. 'Maybe this is why the throne still has so many sharp edges,' Ned thought, casting a quick glance towards his hand to make sure he hadn't drawn blood as the courtier went on and on about some proposal that Ned was truthfully only half listening to. As Warden of the North, he knew the importance of court and giving his all to each case brought before him. But this…? This man was honestly trying to put through a proposal to change the chamber pots in the Red Keep to a new style from an up-and-coming craftsman that the courtier had taken a liking to!

"Your proposal will be taken under advisement," Ned interjected as the man paused to take a breath. Honestly, he just wanted the man to shut up at this point as he'd been going on for far, far too long. "Grand Maester, please take the proposal and go over the numbers with Lord Baelish and see if the cost is feasible. A messenger will be sent to you after the council has reviewed your proposal."

The courtier did not look pleased to have been cut off mid rant, but the man at least had the brains not to press his luck and reluctantly handed off his rolled-up proposal to a nearby servant before scurrying back into the mass of nobles and smallfolk waiting to stand before him. Despite having dismissed the courtier, Ned's discontent with his situation did not fade. He did not mind holding court. It was one of the duties of a Lord, one he took very seriously. But the difference between holding court in the North and holding court here in King's Landing is astonishing. In the North, real matters were brought to his attention. Bandit raids. Crop rotations. Land disputes. But here? In King's Landing all of the matters brought before him today were either about changing fabrics, or chamber pots, or some other meaningless shite that he did not care about.

"Bring forth the next," Ned called out, trying, and failing, to find something resembling a comfortable spot on the Iron Throne as he braced himself for yet another entitled noble that was trying to gain his favor.

But as the next petitioner was brought forward, Ned knew that this was not another noble looking for his approval. The man brought forward was clearly a member of the smallfolk. He was old, his clothes were torn and dirty, and he even had some dried blood splatters on his clothes that Ned could instantly tell were recent. The nobles and courtiers all backed away as if the man had the plague as two of the gold cloaks brought the old man before the Iron Throne.

"Lord Hand," one of the gold cloaks said, bowing to him while the old man dropped to a knee. "This is Dummar from a small fishing village two days ride to the north of King's Landing. He arrived at the Old Gate at first light, practically collapsing in exhaustion and begging to see you immediately, Lord Hand."

Frowning, Ned motioned towards the older man. "Rise, Dummar. Tell me what has brought you to King's Landing and in such a state."

The old man looked down and seem to realize just how he was dressed. "A–A thousand apologies, milord Hand," the man said awkwardly, his voice heavy as he tried to brush at his clothes. Ned's brow furrowed as he realized that the old man looked as if he wasn't all there. Not that he was mad, just that his body was here but his mind wasn't. It was something that he had seen before several times. And every time he had, it never boded well.

"You need not apologize, speak. What brought you to King's Landing?"

The man looked up, his eyes looking at him yet not seeing him. 'Shock. That is what Nox calls this phenomenon,' Ned realized as the man began shaking slightly before him. "Me village…We not be a large village but we have lots of families. We have a Sept and attend with the Septon and Septa. We mind our own milord. We never hurt anyone. Never cheated. Always tried to be fair. But…Bandits, they… They descended on our village. Killed everyone. Old. Young. Men strung up and women raped. The Septon was… He was strung up by his hands. His legs and arms broken with a maul while the men laughed. Then they cut out his eyes, his ears, his tongue…and then sliced him open and left him to die. They… They did the same to the village elder…me own brother. They… They made me watch as they raided, raped…and then they… They told me to run and tell all what'd happened. That the Andals days are numbered."

Ned went rigid at hearing the man's words, even as fervent whispers swept through the courtiers before him. He knew exactly the way the Septon and village elder had been murdered. He himself had executed several of his own Lords and a Lady of the North in the same manner not a few years past. This… This was a message. No, a declaration of war. A war against the Andal faith. While he would admit that there would be many in the North who would cheer at such a notion, he knew that no man of the North would use such a manner of execution in such an off-handed way. No, this was someone trying to reignite the flames of a war between the First Men and the Andals. 'Could this be the war that Nox forsaw? Not a war of Lords…but rather a war of faith?'

While he could ponder such an implication later, now was not the time for such thoughts. He had to stomp this out here and now. Rising to his feet, he descended from the Iron Throne and approached the still shaking man. Arriving before the man, Ned calmly laid a hand on the trembling man's shoulder. "I know my words will not bring back what you have lost nor remove what you have seen. But you have my condolences and vow that those who perpetrated this heinous act will not go unpunished." Patting the man on the shoulder once more, Ned turned and raised his voice so all in the hall could hear him. "These men are brigands. Nothing more, nothing less. They have violated the King's peace in the worst way, and therefore their lives are forfeited. As Hand of the King, I will hereby see this justice carried out personally."

His proclamation sent even more whispers throughout the court. "Lord Hand, if I may?"

Turning his attention away from the older man, Ned spotted the one who'd spoken. He recognized him from the tournament of Harrenhal, but more importantly as one of the more reasonable Lords in the court. "Speak, Lord Beric Dondarrion."

The younger marcher lord nodded and took a step forward. "My Lord Hand, with respect. Without the King you are acting Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, and we can ill afford to have you hunting down these brigands. With your leave Lord Hand, I would gladly lead this expedition to hunt down these brigands and either have them put to the sword or returned to King's Landing to face the King's Justice."

Frowning, Ned unfortunately was forced to concede the point. As much as he wanted—no, needed—to leave this wretched city and clear his head, he could not abandon his duties, especially now with Robert out of the city. If he left, that would leave either the Queen or, worse, the Crown Prince to rule as Regent until either he or Robert returned. And that was a sobering thought.

"Very well," Ned nodded, conceding the point. "I hereby appoint Lord Beric Dondarrion to lead this expedition to hunt down these brigands and to bring them to justice. And you will not be going alone. I will dedicate half my house guards to accompany you. And you will be given enough coin to properly provide for any who wish to join alongside you as well."

"You honor me, my Lord Hand," Lord Dondarrion said, bowing deeply. "I vow to you and the Throne. I will find these brigands and bring them to justice."

Nodding, Ned turned his back on the Lord, who also turned to make his way out of the hall. "Court is over for the day," Ned called out loudly as he stood at the base of the Iron Throne, not wanting to ascend to the seat once more for the day. "Steward, take the names of those who came to be heard today. I will hear their petitions first tomorrow."

Not bothering to wait any longer, Ned made his way out of the main hall and towards the Tower of the Hand. Almost as soon as he was out in the corridor, his guards formed a protective ring around him, and they were not alone. Lady Nyra appeared with his guards, having departed from the hall as well, and together the two walked in silence back to the tower. Once they were safely back in his solar, Ned gave orders to his men that they were not to be disturbed and closed the door, leaving him and Nyra alone. For her part, Nyra was standing in the middle of the room. Her hands slightly spread out from her sides and her eyes closed. After a moment, she held out a single finger before her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment before she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eye. "A child. He's asleep now and won't wake for hours."

Ned wanted to curse this wretched city to the worst of the Seven Hells. Using a child as a spy, no doubt hiding in the walls of his solar. He would need to have Nyra point out where the child was and have his men close up the gap they were using to spy on him. If it wasn't a child, he would be tempted to put them to the question to learn who they were spying for. But he couldn't do that to a child.

Sighing, he made his way over to his desk and sat down heavily. "What do you make of the attack on the village?"

Walking over to a small table, Nyra poured out a portion of strong Northern liquor in one cup then filled a second cup with water. Coming back to him, she put the glass with liquor before him before sitting down with her cup of water. When he silently cocked an eyebrow at her choice, Nyra merely shrugged. "Liquor, and even wine and ale has not been sitting well with me as of late. But as for the matter with the village, first it is clear that whoever is behind this is trying to start a conflict between the North and potentially the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. A raid like this, and with the murder of a Septon and village elder in such a manner. It cannot be ignored. And the fact that they were killed using the Traitor's Death, a well-known Northern punishment. It makes the potential culprit obvious to those who don't bother to look too closely. Which unfortunately means almost all the smallfolk and most of the nobles for that matter."

"Aye," Ned nodded, taking a slow drink, and savoring the burn as the liquor went down. "There is a possibility that these brigands are wildlings. While most are under the eye of Mance or Lady Val, there are still a fair number that have no allegiance to either or the North."

Nyra nodded, leaning back as she did so. "That is a way that this could be told. However, such wildlings have rarely, if ever, been seen any further than the Neck. The odds of a rogue group getting this far south unaided is unlikely. Which again, leads us to the conclusion that someone is trying to paint the North in an ill light."

Finishing his drink, Ned idly turned the empty glass in his hand. "Long has your husband predicted two wars to come. One against the White Walkers and their army of dead. But before that war, he predicted another that would tear and heal Westeros in preparation for the war to come. Having lived through two wars, one of which consumed the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, I had hoped that for once, Nox would be wrong. But with this…I cannot deny that war is on the horizon."

Setting his empty glass aside, Ned got up and walked to his balcony hoping for some fresh air. Though such a hope was foolish in a city as foul as King's Landing. "How fare your attempts to contact your husband?"

"Not good," Nyra answered honestly and without hesitation. "Alim was only able to give me the briefest of true teachings since realizing my Force affinity. And even using what he has given us, at best I can only reach to the Neck and not beyond. I can…sense him. But it's strange. Muted. Even more so than when I knew he was just north of the Wall. I – I fear something may have happened, but I don't know what."

Ned couldn't help but feel uneasy at the thought of Nox being so far away. Part of him did not like that he had become so dependent on the man. But on the other hand, he could not, and would not, deny the security Nox's mere presence added. Not to mention his council and his power. "I will send a raven to Castle Black and have them send someone north of the Wall to try and find him." Ned knew the chances of someone finding Nox's group in the far north would be minuscule at best. But he still had to try. And even if they did manage to find the group, it would still be nearly a full month before Nox would be in King's Landing. "Keep trying to connect with your husband. You are our best hope for getting him here as quickly as possible. And I fear that we will need his aid soon."

---

Prince Tommen had only been on five hunts with his kingly father in the past. The first had happened just a bare week after the death of Ser Prance. Tommen hadn't been certain what had brought about the king's decision, but he had made a request to Tommen to accompany him. Not a command, but a simple request. Naturally, Tommen had jumped at the chance to spend more time with his father. This was the first instance Tommen could ever remember that his king had ever gone out of his way to willingly do so. And that first hunt had been both exhilarating and terrifying for the young prince.

Obviously, he hadn't been allowed to participate in any of the actual hunting, but he had followed closely and watched and learned. King Robert had personally shown him how to see the signs of their prey, how to know which animals had recently been upon the game trail they were following, and how to know where and what the animals had been seeking. At the time, they had been hunting a family group of stags that inhabited the kingswood. He had watched and listened as his king father laid out a simple trap which involved scaring the stags into fleeing from them but also predicting where they would go and positioning spearmen and archers there. The hunt had gone off perfectly and they'd killed three stags that would be brought back and added to the castle's larders. Admittedly, Prince Tommen hadn't reacted well to watching his father and some of the other men gut and skin the stags. But he bore through it, fighting down his memories of his elder brother doing something similar before him, as well as the bile that rose up his throat. After his initial work was done and hurriedly cleaning himself of the blood, King Robert approached him and given him some soft but warm words. He congratulated him on holding his stomach in check, knowing how bad this must've been for his son and that he was proud of his self-control. And that now that he had gone through such a thing, he would be stronger for it the next time it happened.

And he certainly had been on the next three hunts. Not only did he not feel nearly as nauseous as that first time, but he had even been allowed to participate in the actual hunt! Albeit he was given a bow and never allowed to leave his king father's side for the duration of it. But he had helped! Not only that, but his single arrow had been a particularly crippling blow against the small boar they'd hunted on that trip. When he'd later realized that he'd been a significant help in bringing that bore down, Tommen had felt a rather surprisingly large swell of pride in himself as a result. A swell that was further reinforced by his king father's loud and proud voice as he later retold the tale of the hunt to the court that evening as they dined on that boar in the great hall.

So, when Prince Tommen had been approached by his king father to go on another hunt together, he had naturally jumped at the chance again. Although, he could tell that unlike the previous hunts, his father was not in a good mood. Though he honestly tried to keep his expression calm and even happy when around him, Tommen had caught the thunderous expression upon his face more than once. It was clear to the boy that his father had decided to come out on this hunt to clear his temper as much as it was to spend time with his younger son.

"Father?" Prince Tommen asked softly as he finally let his curiosity get the better of him. "What's wrong? You seem upset for some reason."

Looking down at his small son, Robert blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected his son to catch onto his act. After a moment of silent contemplation, King Robert sighed loudly, "I am. Very much so. But not at you, boy, so no need to be worried. Your brother, on the other hand? He has been a right shit again, and gotten himself into some trouble that he really, really should've known better not to."

Pondering for a moment, Tommen conceded that that was probably what had happened. His older brother, Crown Prince Joffrey, was a horrible, horrible person. Tommen didn't want to imagine having to always clean up the messes that Joffrey made was like for his father. So, him needing a chance to relax and take out his frustrations by hunting made sense to the young boy.

Clearly seeking to change the topic to a lighter one, his father smiled down at him. "So, do you have any preferences to what you want to hunt this time, son?"

Tommen stopped and blinked at his father in surprise. "You're letting me decide, father?"

"Sure," King Robert smiled, his expression noticeably more upbeat now. "I've been the one making the choices before this. How about you do it this time?"

"Uh…" Tommen stuttered, caught flatfooted and unsure. "Alright?"

"Let's see," the king mused aloud, bringing one hand up to rub at his bearded chin. "I know we've got stags, boar, foxes, ducks, swans, hares, and maybe a wolf pack or two in these woods. Among other critters we could go after. Do any of those sound interesting?"

"Um…" Tommen paused, considering the options that the king had laid out. "How…How about we try some…foxes this time, father? If we get some of those, wouldn't that mean that there'd be more hares for us to hunt next time?"

Robert loudly chuckled at that, idly patting Tommen's shoulder. "It doesn't quite work that fast, but it's definitely a good thought. Yes, foxes will do just fine!"

Tommen smiled happily as he watched his father turn and start to give out orders to their small retinue of ten guardsmen of Baratheon and Lannister men, along with Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, on what their game would be this time. This was nice. Being out of the city, far from his hated brother, far from his mother, with just his king father and a few loyal men in the forest. It was…calming but invigorating in a way that Tommen had a hard way of understanding. It was like he was suddenly free of his worries and could freely lean on his father for anything. Something that was usually absent whenever they were in the Red Keep or the city below.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, Tommen didn't see it at first. He was only made aware of the sudden danger they were in when one of the guardsmen let out a loud cry of pain. Looking over to the man, Tommen gasped and flinched back as he saw the man fall with a spear sticking out of his back. A spear that was hurriedly yanked out of the dying man by a filthy, shaggy man dressed in light furs and leathers. As he did so, numerous loud cries erupted from the woodlands around them. Head swiveling everywhere, Tommen watched in mounting terror as easily four dozen men raced towards the royal hunting party, swords glinting menacingly in the sunlight, spears held overhead, and numerous other weapons at the ready.

"What the fuck is this?!" King Robert roared, looking positively furious. Before Tommen could do or say anything, he suddenly found the king standing before him in a ready stance with Dragon's Bane already in his hands. "Stand close to me, Tommen!"

---

Turning in slow circles, Nox stared out into the darkness surrounding him. It was darkness he had not experienced in so long he a had almost forgotten what it was like. To stand in an unending darkness with only small specks of light far, far in the distance. It was the unending darkness of space. But unlike what he had experienced in the past, there was a light that allowed him to see easily. The soft glow of the path of light beneath his feet. A path that rippled beneath his feet like water. A path that branched like a path through the forest, a forest of darkness. Each path leading into an endless darkness. He knew this place, but he had never been here. Hells, he had only ever heard of this place in legends buried in the deepest of the Sith Archives. But he knew this place. The World Between Worlds. The Vergence Scatter.

Frowning, Nox began to walk down the endless path laid out before him, the path of light rippling like water with each step he took forward.

"Well, well… Here is a face that I never thought I would see again."

The voice stopped him in his tracks. He knew that voice. Knew it well. Even if he didn't have his Force sight to compensate for his lack of eyes, he would know this voice and face anywhere. Turning on his heel, he coldly regarded the figure standing just behind him, arms behind her back and the same smug look on her face that at one point he had found respectable. "Zash."

His Master was standing behind him, a smile on her flawless face with her golden hair pristinely kept, Sith robes freshly cleaned and perfect. Everything about her was perfect. Flawless perfection. "I see you still hold on to your hope of youth and vitality despite your true visage. Even here, when you are not here, your pathetic fear prevents you from showing your true self."

Her smile didn't waver. "Ah, still such a sharp tongue, my dear Apprentice. Even after all these years, you still haven't forgiven me, have you? I took you in. Trained you. Raised you. Showed you the wonders and pleasures of life. How to use the Force to its fullest. How to conquer your fears and reach true power. Surely everything I did for you can counter our little…disagreement?"

Nox felt a growl sound low in his throat. "Disagreement? You used me. True, you trained me and pushed me to be the best. Only so that when the time was right, you could steal my body for your own. Transferring your consciousness into my body and leaving me in your worn-out husk of a corpse." Tightening his fist to fight against the rage boiling within, Nox glared at his former Master. "How are you here, Zash? The last time we spoke was just before I threw your sorry ass into a Rakata Mind Prison to free Khem of your poison."

Zash merely shrugged. "And how long do you think I stayed in that prison? I am a…resourceful woman, after all. Do you truly believe it has been only a decade since you disappeared from the known galaxy? After all, your little long-range fighter's hyperdrive was damaged during your escape. How do you know that decades, centuries, hadn't passed you by while you were escaping?"

Nox just shrugged. "If that is what happened, then that is what happened. Either way, I have no intention of returning to the Sith Empire, even if it still exists, unless I am forced to do so."

"Of course you can't. Because despite your power, despite all your achievements you have been an utter failure, my dear apprentice," Zash sighed. "You have been on this world for nearly a decade. And what have you achieved? Little to nothing. Any self-respecting Sith would've had this primitive world under their boot within the first month or two of being stranded here. And while I can admit that your rebuilding of a new Force order on a primitive world is impressive, the fact that you are merely content to be a bootlicking advisor instead of an Emperor is truly disheartening. That pathetic Jedi girl truly did irredeemably corrupt you."

While he managed to keep his face calm, his heart lurched slightly at the mention of his first love. Even after all this time, she still had a place in his heart. "Corruption is open to interpretation and one's point of view. From my side, Ashara opened me to a world I never knew existed and together, we grew far more powerful than any Sith or Jedi."

"Did you?" Zash asked disdainfully. "Tell me, if you two grew so powerful together, than how is it that you let her die?"

Feeling his anger build, Nox glowered at his former Master. "I am done with these games, Zash. Begone." And with a mere flick of his wrist, the illusion that was his former master dissipated like smoke before him.

Hearing a lightsaber being drawn behind him, Nox turned his hand, lightsaber flicking out into his own hand as he turned to face whoever was behind him. "Thanaton."

The aged Dark Council Member, his predecessor and adversary, stood behind him with his lightsaber drawn and the same condescending look on his face that Nox swore was permanent. "I always knew that you were corrupted. Just like your master. A disease. A festering pustule that needed to be excised from the Sith Order."

Smirking, Nox ignited his own blade. "Amusing coming from you, Thanaton. Especially after I watched you flee like a kicked dog with your tail between your legs after I beat you in your kaggath on Corellia. A kaggath that you proposed. And when you lost, you ran to the Dark Council and started bitching like a child that you were defeated. What did the council do? They stood by and watched as I put you down like the pathetic fool you were."

Thanaton glowered, the dark side of the Force swirling around him as his anger took hold. Nox might have been able to defeat Thanaton, but he would admit that the man was powerful in the Force. Foolish, but powerful. "Your victory was fraudulent. Achieved only because you enslaved the essences of Sith Lords far greater than yourself. And now that you no longer hold their power, the outcome will not be the same."

Nox didn't hesitate as he went immediately on the offensive, using ataru to deftly move in circles around the aged Sith. Thanaton for his part managed to match Nox strike for strike, yet despite being able to match Nox's assault, he was unable to do anything more than stay on the defensive as Nox threw everything he had at his former adversary. Between the narrow path they were fighting on, and Nox's unrelenting assault, all too soon Thanaton made a mistake in which he tried to thrust at an opening Nox had purposefully left as bait. As soon as he committed, Nox dropped low, swinging his lightsaber up and cutting effortlessly through Thanaton's outstretched arm. He then used the Force to throw the severed limb and lightsaber into the dark abyss below them before following through with a bout of Force lightning into Thanaton's chest.

"Back then I might have needed the aid of the Force Walk technique to defeat you," Nox said calmly, slowly walking around the struggling Thanaton who was clutching at the burned stump of his right arm. "But I have grown exponentially since that day. And I have long since surpassed you, Thanaton. Though, I am glad to see you here of all places. Because now, I have the pleasure of ending you myself."

Holding out his hand, Nox used the Force to grab hold of Thanaton's head. Then with a quick twist of his wrist, he spun Thanaton's head clean around, breaking his neck just as Darth Mortis had done before. But before the sound of his neck snapping could even echo, Thanaton's body disappeared as if it was never even there in the first place. "You've grown even stronger…my Master."

The voice made his back go rigid. Zash he could handle. Thanaton he could handle. Any Force apparition he could handle. But her? Could he truly handle her? Hearing her voice? Feeling her skin on his own? Feeling her warmth? Letting his senses flow, he felt her. Her. Not some imitation. Her.

Turning slowly, he fought against his racing heart. How long had he dreamed of this moment? And now, here it was. Here she was. Standing before him once again. "Ashara." His first wife, his first love, Ashara Zavros, was standing before him. Everything about her was exactly as he remembered. Her presence. Her smell. Everything was just as he remembered last he saw her. Even her clothes.

"You've grown so strong, my Master, my love," Ashara said, slowly approaching him until they were barely but a whisper away from one another. He wanted to reach out to her. To feel the warmth of her skin. But fear stayed his hand. He didn't want this illusion to be shattered. Not yet. Ashara smiled, seemingly able to guess his thoughts, as she had always been able to do. "Yet despite how strong you've grown, my love. You are still so afraid. Fear of the past repeating keeps you from moving forward. Fear of the future prevents you from doing what needs to be done. So much fear, my love."

He would not rebuke her words. She was right after all. He was afraid. Losing his mother as he did. Losing her. Losing his son and nearly losing Nyra. It would be a lie of the highest order to say that those events did not impart a lasting fear upon him. A fear that did indeed direct him on occasion. Sometimes for good. Sometimes for ill. And he did fear the future and what it held. Not necessarily for himself. But for those he loved. "And do you fault me for these fears Ashara? After all that has happened?"

Ashara smiled at him, but still neither reached out to one another. "If I were still a 'Jedi', I would say yes. Yet I know better. Fear is natural and helpful at times. But you cannot be ruled by your fear, Alim. Trust in those you love, Alim. And they might just surprise you with what they can do. Your wife, whom I fully approve of, is constantly watched by you. Your Apprentices and Acolytes are kept closely under your watch. Your vigilance does you credit. Yet you are keeping them from truly spreading their wings. Trust in them. As they trust in you, my love."

"It's not that easy," he said, lowering his head, his forehead stopping just short of her own.

"I know," she replied.

The two stayed silent for a long time, just standing and basking in one another's presence. All too soon, Nox felt the path shift beneath his feet, and when he expanded his senses, he found what felt like a new path that'd been formed off to his left. A path that led to a runic circle. "I take it that our time is up."

"Yes," Ashara nodded, still not touching him as they slowly stepped away from one another. "You have chosen your new love well, Alim. Trust them. Keep them close. Give all that you are to them. And you will find the strength to do what Bran Stark could not all those years ago."

Before he could reach for her, or ask her to stay, she disappeared. Physically and through the Force. And he was left all alone on the glowing path within the World Between Worlds. Turning his head to the left, he expanded his senses to look over the new path before him. "I suppose it would be too much to actually give me a straightforward answer as to what is going to happen or what I need to do?" He sighed, talking to himself and the Force before setting on down the new path and walking without hesitation into the runic circle before him.

Cold, darkness and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth greeted him the moment he stepped through the array. It took him more than a few moments to realize that he was lying on his back on something hard, and cold. His body ached in ways he hadn't felt since his time at Korriban. He could feel more than a few open wounds covering his body. Wounds that were clearly hastily bandaged with strips of cloth.

He couldn't feel any warmth from a fire, but he could hear the low mumbling of voices talking amongst one another not too far from where he lay. Moving slowly, Nox carefully reached across his body to feel the various bandages that were covering his body. "Master!"

Turning his head, Nox let his senses flow over towards the voices he'd first heard. There were five, including himself. His Apprentice Jon, Ygritte, Benjen, and the last were most definitely not human. Which meant that it had to be the Child of the Forest that'd led them to the ambush that'd put them here, Leaf.

Working himself into a sitting position, Nox frowned at how weak he felt and, begrudgingly, accepted his Apprentice's aid in getting him upright so that he could sit with his back leaning against some kind of wall made of roots, cold dirt, and rocks. Now upright, Nox let his senses flow out, only to immediately pull his senses back in as the presence of the weirwood roots and the tree's natural connection to the Force nearly blinded him. At best, he could only sense those close by him, and the fact that they were all far below the surface.

"So," Nox said slowly, rolling his neck. "What happened besides the obvious betrayal by the Children of the Forest?"

He could hear the intake of breath from the lone Child nearby, and he could sense as all eyes shifted towards her. Yet despite everyone's attention on her, Leaf remained silent. "She ain't said a word since we all fell down here." Ygritte said, a note of hostility in her voice. "And here the Free Folk always revered the Children…and the first time we meet with em, they try and fuck us in the arse."

Frowning, it took quite a bit, and Jon's aid, for him to slowly get to his feet. He had to crouch slightly as the space they were in was not quite tall enough for him. But with Jon's help he slowly made his way over to the Child. Even with him looming over her, Leaf did not say a word. So, he spoke for her. "You said that a decision had been made. That other one, Bark. He spoke of a bargain. What bargain did he make? And with whom? Though I have a feeling I might know the answer to both. Protection, in exchange for my death? Protection against the White Walkers and their army, correct?"

He could feel Leaf shiver in fear as she slowly looked up at him. "How?"

"Does it matter?" he asked. "Talk, before I lose what little is left of my patience."

Leaf stared up at him, her eyes unblinking as the two battled wills. She broke first, lowering her head and sighing. "Two moons ago… There was an…emissary that arrived just beyond our valley. One of the White Walkers."

Nox frowned but wasn't necessarily surprised considering what had just happened to them. "Let me guess, they offered you a deal? My death or permanent detainment. And in return the Children of the Forest would be spared. Correct?"

Leaf buried her head in her hands and nodded. "Yes. The Children gathered to decide our course as we do. And…And we chose to put our faith in you, as you are the same as Bran the Unifier. We decided that our best chance was with you."

Nox let out a breath. "Obviously, the decision wasn't unanimous."

Leaf glared up at him. "It was. We are not like you humans. We are one people. We speak with a single unified voice. Discussion was had and the decision was made. We were one in our choice to aid with you."

"Obviously not," Nox scoffed. "I'm not sure what I find more pathetic. Your naive belief that the Children of the Forest can be without dissent amongst your own. Or the fact that those who attacked us are naïve enough to believe that these White Walkers will hold true to the bargain."

Leaf made to interject, but Nox had already all but dismissed her as he tilted his head up as far as he could. He reached out through the Force to try and ascertain just how far underground they were, but he did not get far as he had to pull his sight back as the presence of the weirwood threatened to overwhelm him the further he stretched his sight. "Master?"

"I'm fine," Nox said, ignoring Jon and fighting against the urge to rub at his useless eyes as he turned towards Leaf. "I take it that your people have lived in these…tunnels for millennia, correct? Where are we and how do we reach the surface. Answer quickly…before I decide that you've outlived your usefulness."

Leaf shrunk in on herself as she looked around. "I…I do not know where we are. The paths of the weirwoods are ever changing and can traverse miles with but a single step. Knowing them is to know that you do not know them. But…there are some tunnels that are known. If we can reach them, I can guide us to the surface."

Sighing, Nox tilted his head back. He could sense some of the connecting tunnels, so he could get them somewhere. But again, the weirwoods were blinding his vision. They had no choice but to make their way upwards and hope that they would eventually stumble upon one of the pathways known to Leaf. "Well," he said rolling his neck. "Let's get moving."

---

Sitting with her elbows resting on her desk and her face in her folded hands, Nyra Nox stared down at the words sprawled out before her. It had started out as pure curiosity on her part. A curiosity born from the numerous women who had come to the Red Keep, claiming to have a baseborn son or daughter of the King and wanting them to be tested in hopes that they would achieve the same heights as Gendry. Of the dozens or more women and children she'd seen, only two had proven to have any affinity with the Force. And when put side by side, it was clear that the two children shared a father. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that these two she'd found looked incredibly similar to Gendry and even to the child Barra. That had led her to think about the inheritance of the Force and the few lessons of something called 'genetics' that her husband had given her. How children were literally, and figuratively, half of each parent. However sometimes one parent's half would be stronger than the other, making the children favor one parent or the other. Thinking back on the King's four bastard children that she knew of, she realized that each looked incredibly like one another.

That thought had led her to think about the great houses of Westeros and key features each was said to have. Of the great houses it was the Starks, Targaryens, Baratheons, and the Martells that seemed to have the strongest connection to the Force. Unsurprisingly, all four were from lines that were known practitioners of magic in the past. The Kings of Winter and descendants of Bran the Builder. Descendants of the Dragon lords. And the descendants of the Rhoynar. That realization had led her to realize that each line had specific traits that they shared. And it was with that thought that she called upon the Grand Maester to give her a specific book. The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. A book that was continuously updated with each new generation that was born to each Great House.

The Grand Maester didn't question her request, simply went back into his library, and quickly retrieved the book. When she questioned how he was able to locate it so quickly, as it wasn't a book that was called upon often, the Grand Maester informed her that the previous Lord Hand, Lord Jon Arryn, had recently requested the book and had had it in his possession until his passing. The revelation was a bit odd. But when she asked why the previous Lord Hand had had the book, the Grand Maester simply shrugged and said that it was not his place to question.

After retreating to the Tower of the Hand, she began looking through the various Houses; primarily the Starks, Baratheons, Martells, and Targaryens. The reading was dull to say the least. Each House and their descendants were consistent in their appearance. The Starks always lighter complexion with darker hair, though that varied slightly, solid builds and stormy eyes. The Martells were their opposites. Lithe with darker complexions, always black hair and dark eyes. The Targaryens were well known for their white-blond hair and fair looks. A trait they made permanent by their continuous inbreeding. And the Baratheons, despite being originally from House Targaryen, were always solid build, dark hair and blue eyed. At least of course until the current crown princes and princess. All of whom were blond of hair and green eyed. Just like their mother.

Reading that gave her pause. Blinking, she reread Joffrey Baratheon's description again, then again, then again. Then after reading it, she pictured him in her mind standing next to Gendry. But the two couldn't be more distant from one another. Next she pictured Myrcella next to Barra. But again, the two looked nothing alike. If anything, Myrcella looked identical to Anna, who she knew to be Lord Tyrion's daughter…a girl who was almost turned into a plaything because of her uncanny resemblance to the Princess.

Desperation started to take hold of her as she began reading through the Baratheon lineage, looking for a single example of a child born within the Baratheon line being born with anything other than the Baratheon looks. But no matter the mother, even a few Lannister women who were noted to have green eyes and blond hair, not a single male child since the founding of House Baratheon had been born without black hair and blue eyes. Until the current royal children. And try as she might, she could not find a single aspect of King Robert in any of the children.

Which led her to one unsettling conclusion. The royal children were not Robert's children. Which meant that the Queen had a lover, perhaps more than one…and this lover had given the Queen her children. Children that she was now passing on as King Robert's trueborn children.

The Queen having an affair itself was a crime that warranted banishment or death, a double standard she despised considering the King's affinity for whores. And if it was just a case of the Queen taking a lover, Nyra wouldn't have cared. But this? This was not just about the Queen having a lover, or lovers. This was about the Queen passing off her children as the children of the King, which they certainly were not.

And the situation just got more complicated from there. Obviously, Tywin Lannister would not stand for the accusation. With Robert's well-known general despise of the Queen's family, it wasn't hard to imagine that he would not hesitate to have Cersei executed and the children either killed or exiled. And while she didn't care about Cersei's fate, or even the potential fate of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were both sweet children. And Robert clearly cared for the two younger children… So, perhaps, they would be spared? But regardless, between Robert's unavoidable reaction and Tywin's predictable response, there was only one logical conclusion: war. Perhaps this was the war that Alim foresaw, the one that would take place before the war with the Others. Was this the causing factor?

As she was mulling over the fact that war might be on the horizon, she began thinking of just who would side with the Lannisters and what the line of succession would look like. And technically, with the King having no trueborn children at this moment, that left three, well…four options as legitimate heirs. Primarily, Stannis as the King's brother, then Renly. Then there was also Edric Storm, King Robert's bastard son by a noble woman and the only one of his bastard children who could claim a 'noble' lineage. And the last was…well…Jon Stark. Though she doubted that Jon would even want to step foot in King's Landing, let alone accept his true parentage. So, that just left Stannis. Who was held up in Dragonstone and was refusing all summons to return since the death of the previous Lord Hand.

Thinking of the previous Lord Hand…the Grand Maester had said that Jon Arryn had requested this same tome and had had it in his possession until the day he died. While his death was ruled a fever, a fever that took the lives of dozens in the Red Keep… Was it possible that he learned what Nyra had? And if so…had the Queen learnt of his discovery and had him poisoned, before poisoning a good portion of the Red Keep to cover her crime? She knew that there were several poisons that mimicked a sickness. Had the Queen, or someone else, killed the previous Lord Hand to silence him? And had Stannis known, or at least had the same suspicion as to the royal children? Was that why he was held up at Dragonstone? The Queen was ruthless…and coveted her position as Queen…so as appalling as the act was, she could see the Queen committing, or ordering someone to commit such a crime.

"Answer one question…and uncover a dozen others," Nyra muttered to herself, not sure what, if anything, she should do.

She was suddenly much, much more desperate for her husband to be by her side. Not just for his guidance, but for his power. Cause, and she was willing to admit it, they were not in a good position. They were far from the North with few allies and fewer friends. Her husband, despite being only one man, was an army unto himself. To be sure, Arya and Sansa could help tip the scales slightly. But they were still heavily disadvantaged.

"Lady Nox? Are you in?"

Nyra wanted to curse aloud. Of all the people she would want to see at this moment, the voice that called out to her was perhaps one of the last on her list. Sure, she had sent word for him, but that was before she had fully figured out just what sort of situation they were now in. "Yes, Lord Stark," she said, desperately wracking her brain as she tried to figure out just how to go about the conversation she was sure was about to take place between them. "Come in."

Lord Stark strode into her solar alone, making sure his guards stayed outside to prevent any unwanted ears before shutting the door. "You sent for me? The messenger boy said it was urgent."

Nyra wanted to truly kick herself. It wasn't that she didn't trust Lord Stark. On the contrary, she trusted him with her life. But…he was honorable. To a fault. By his own admission, he had no head for the game nor even a want to play the game. And this situation required a truly daft hand and one truly versed in the game. But…there was no helping it now. She would just have to try and do what she could to mitigate any fallout until Alim managed to return.

Sighing, Nyra nodded and pushed the book before her towards Ned. "Yes, Lord Stark. Since we arrived…I have had only two potential Force sensitive children be brought before me. Both of whom…were named to be bastard children sired by none other than King Robert himself. Both children have the look to back the claim. So…I began thinking of maybe looking for a commonality in the Baratheon lineage, and the lineage of other lines with notable magic. Namely the Starks, Martells, and Targaryens. And…well, I believe that it is easier if you saw this yourself."

Frowning, Ned crossed the room and looked down at the book before him. She could see his eyes going over the words on the page quickly, but clearly he was reading the words but not seeing the treason behind them. "The Baratheon line, much as with the Starks, are well known to carry down certain characteristics for sure," Ned nodded. "I believe Nox referred to such a things as…genetics?"

"Yes," Nyra nodded. "Ned…I want you to picture Robert and Renly in your mind. Then compare them to Gendry and Bara. Then, think of the royal children and compare them against everyone you know who carries the Baratheon name. Then read the book again."

Ned frowned, but clearly did as she requested as he stared off into space. His frown deepened as the time went by before he began almost frantically flipping through the pages detailing the makeup of House Baratheon since its creation. "By the gods," Ned breathed, as the realization of what she suspected dawned on him. "You…You believe that the royal children are…not Robert's children at all?"

"I…cannot say for certain," Nyra responded slowly. "But the chances of the royal children inheriting only traits from the Lannister line and none from the Baratheon line, especially considering how…dominant the Baratheon characteristics are? Well… The chances are highly, highly unlikely to the point of being impossible."

Book still in hand, Ned sat down heavily into the chair across from her as he kept flipping through the pages, reading over the history of House Baratheon. "That isn't everything," Nyra said, knowing her next suspicion would not be received well by Ned. "According to the Grand Maester, this book was last in the possession of Jon Arryn, who had it until the day he died. I also learned the former Hand had recently taken a great interest in all of Robert's bastard children and had in fact written down the details to each. A list which I have been unable to locate since our arrival in King's Landing."

Ned caught on much quicker this time around. "You believe that…that Jon learned of the Queen's actions and…and she had him killed?"

"I believe someone did," Nyra responded. And while she was completely certain that the Queen would be willing and able to kill dozens to keep her secret, she was not ready to point the blame at her for this act. Not yet at least.

She could feel the rage roll of Ned as his eyes flashed yellow. "We need to take the Queen and her children into custody now and send word to Robert of the Queen's act—"

"Ned. Stop." Nyra said, cutting across Ned's anger and bringing him up short. "Right now, we cannot do anything. The number of men sworn to House Stark are far in the minority in the city. Hells, even if you combine all of the men sworn to House Stark, House Baratheon, and even House Tyrell, what few there are here, we will still come up far short when compared against the number of men sworn to House Lannister. And while we could call on the goldcloaks, their allegiance is to the Royal Family first and foremost…and as history has shown their second loyalty is to their won purses. If we act on our suspicion now, we'll just end up with our heads decorating the walls of the Red Keep. We need to wait until Robert returns from his hunting trip before even thinking of taking any action. And even then, I wouldn't want to act on anything we have until we have more men, and my husband, here in the city."

Ned frowned, clearly now just realizing what sort of situation they were in. She loved Ned, not romantically, but she was raised under the banner of the direwolf. Even though she might be 'Lady Nox' now, she would still owe part of her allegiance to House Stark. That being said, she was not blind to his faults. And she knew that if he handled this situation the way he wanted to, it would end in disaster for all of them.

"I will send a raven to Winterfell, requesting Bran be sent down to work on his training with his siblings and perhaps be given a chance to train with the knights of the realm." Ned said slowly, trying to put together a plan. "He will need to be escorted by a…significant guard. And I will also send a request to Robb to send down as many Wolf Rangers as possible to help Lord Dondarrion with the brigand issue that has come up."

It would take days for the raven to arrive, then a full moons turn or more if they went by sea. But still, having more men with them would be a comfort. "A sound idea, Ned."

Scratching his beard, Ned pressed on, "I will also send another missive to Stannis. He has ignored all summons…but perhaps he too has had certain suspicions. And if we reveal that we also have the same suspicions, it might push him to return."

Nyra winced at this thought. "Ned, I do not know if contacting Stannis will do any good," she said slowly, drawing a sharp look from Ned and prompting her to press her point. "All we know is that Lord Arryn was perhaps looking into something that involved the Baratheon line, and then he and a dozen of others died. Before their bodies were even cold, Stannis took those under him and went back to Dragonstone and ignored all summons to return. There is a possibility that…he might be dead already. So, sending a missive with our suspicions might be tipping our hand to whoever is holding Dragonstone. However, if he is still alive, and if he has these same suspicions, that means that he is purposefully ignoring his potential danger and treason against his brother the King. And there is a very important reason as to why he would do that. If the children are not Robert's…that means that Stannis is next in line for the throne. And he could just be biding his time, waiting for Robert to pass before letting all know what he suspects and putting his name forth as the true heir to the Iron Throne."

She was right in thinking that Ned did not like her line of thought. "Stannis is a good and true man. Loyal to his brother. He would not—"

"Then explain to me why he has ignored all summons to return, Ned," she pressed, rising to her feet. Her actions surprised her. She had never fought against Lord Stark like this, and clearly, he was surprised as well by her defiance. "It is well known that Stannis and Robert hold no love for one another. Hells, Robert spited Stannis by taking away Storm's End from him after he failed to capture the last of the Targaryens. Before you say that he was given Dragonstone because he was Robert's heir, you know that is horse shit. We have to navigate this carefully, Ned. Otherwise, it won't just be our heads decorating the walls of the Red Keep, but we'll be alongside all those we love and care for as well."

She could see that her words were starting to hit home with him, especially when she reminded him that it wasn't just their lives that were at stake, but those of his children and those sworn to his household as well.

"Very well," Ned sighed. "We will navigate this per your direction an—"

"Lord Stark!"

Both Nyra and Ned turned to the door as one of the guards began frantically pounding on the door. Nyra wasn't concerned that they could be heard, one because the guards of House Stark would not breathe a word they said. And two, she had used what little Force ability she had to muffle Ned's and her own voice to any outside the room. "What is it?" Ned called out, after receiving a nod from Nyra as she ceased using the Force to muffle their voices.

"The King's hunting retinue has just been rushed into the Red Keep, milord! The King… There's been an accident and he's calling for you immediately."

---

Ned couldn't remember ever moving as fast as he was as he all but ran through the halls of the Red Keep, servants and guards clearing the way for him as he made his way into the royal wing. Arriving at what he knew to be Robert's chambers, he saw all of the Kingsguard save for Ser Barristan standing vigil outside the doors. Without even pausing to acknowledge them, Ned forced his way past the Kingsguard and threw open the doors to the royal chambers.

Inside the room was…well…it was as Ned expected and feared as he saw Robert laying on his bed, bloodied linens around him and over his ample gut as Grand Maester Jeorge worked tirelessly to try and stem the flow of blood from leaving the King while Ser Barristan stood vigil over his King and a few other servants scurried about the room doing what they could to aid the Maester. But Robert, his old friend, didn't even seem to care about the mortal wound on his person. His attention was all on the two children on his bed, Myrcella and Tommen. His false children… Yet his old friend was looking at them just as he himself looked at Jon, as if they truly were Robert's children. And both of the young ones were crying openly as they stayed by their false father's side.

Across the room, nowhere near the King, was Queen Cersei and Joffrey. The Queen was looking at the scene with a look that he could honestly not describe. Something between sorrow and…disdain. As if she couldn't decide which emotion to be feeling. The false Prince, however, was merely looking at the scene with just a blank look, as if he was just witnessing an everyday occurrence and was ready to leave.

"You both…need to be strong for one another," Robert was saying to the two youngest children, both of whom were wearing black and gold with tears falling freely down their face.

"I – I don't want you to go, father…" Tommen cried, and it seemed only because of Myrcella's hands on his shoulders that kept him in place instead of on top of Robert.

"I know," Robert smiled, a true genuine smile. One Ned had not seen since before their rebellion against the Mad King. "Unfortunately…we don't always get what we want. But you two…you two will carry on. And always remember: we do not fear the storms that come…"

"Because we are the storm, for ours is the fury," both children chorused lowly in response. Finally, the small boy lost his composure, lunging forward to wrap Robert in a hug, which Robert returned slowly, patting the small boy on the back.

As Myrcella joined in the hug, Robert's eyes met his own. "Now…go on, children," Robert said, giving the two a smile, "I…I don't want you two to remember me like this. The rest of you… Besides Jeorge, Barristan, and Ned, get out."

"My love, perhaps we should—" Cersei tried to say, taking a step forward.

"No, we shouldn't," Robert replied, his voice like iron as he glared at Cersei and Joffrey. "All of you. Out. Now."

The servants quickly came forth and ushered Tommen and Myrcella out of the room, though neither child appeared willing to leave. Cersei and Joffrey both remained still, almost as if they were refusing to leave. Cersei made to make another protest. But another hard look from Robert quelled whatever words might've passed her lips. Instead, the Queen merely turned to her son and ushered him out of the room, leaving Ned alone with Robert, Barristan, and Jeorge.

"What in the Seven hells happened?" Ned demanded, glancing towards Ser Barristan.

"An ambush," Ser Barristan replied, shocking Ned. "They came out of nowhere just before dawn. We have no idea who they were, but they attacked us. They managed to wound and kill several, before reaching the king and the prince, wounding the king. None were taken alive for questioning. They died to the man rather than be captured."

Ice formed in Ned's gut. Even though Ser Barristan didn't say it, there was no doubt what this was. An assassination attempt on the King. Stepping forward, Ned glanced at the wound on Robert's gut. He'd seen enough of war and its results to know that the wound on his old friend was fatal. Albeit it would be a slow death. "I will call for Sansa," he said. "With her abilities in healing, she will be able to—"

"No."

Ned blinked, staring at his friend as if he'd grown a second head. "What?"

Robert scoffed, then winced at the pain the action brought him. "Jeorge already brought up bringing your daughter into this…but I already told him no."

Frowning, Ned turned towards Barristan and Jeorge. Both men frowned but nodded, confirming the King's command. "And might I ask why you would rather keep my daughter away when she can easily save your life with but a snap of her fingers?" Well, he doubted that it would be that easy, but he had no doubt in Sansa's ability.

Robert began coughing, blood spittle flying from his mouth before he managed to catch it in his hand. "Because I'm a selfish bastard, Ned," Robert sighed once the fit passed. "This…This is how I should die, with a wound from battle. Not dying of some sickness, wasting away and waiting for the Stranger to claim me. You know, I killed three of the fuckers before one managed to get a lucky hit in? Even then, I caved in the man's fucking head with my bare hands. For that one moment, I was once again the Demon of the Trident. Not some fat ass king who can't even mount or dismount his horse without help. And more…I'll have died protecting Tommen… They were after him, Ned. The one who did this to me was trying to put his dagger in Tommen. And I – for the first time in maybe forever…I acted like a true father to the boy. So, yes, Ned, this is how I want to die. A warrior. A protector. A…A father. Please…I know it's selfish, especially with what comes next… But, please…Ned, do me this kindness and let me die like this."

Ned wanted to rage against his friend, to deny his request. There was still far too much that needed to be done. With what he and Nyra had discovered regarding his false children…could Ned truly afford to let his friend go now? In the end though, Ned merely dropped his head and nodded his agreement to his friend's last request. Things would be more complicated without Robert. But, seeing his friend and how he was now, seeing the hope that he would die in the manner he wanted to, even if he was defending a child born not of his seed… How could Ned take that away from him?

"Gods, Ned… You're a good friend and a better brother… It's a shame I've always been such a shit at both." Robert coughed, more blood coming up from his lips and seeping further into the linens. "All three of you, get some quills and paper. You'll all take down my last words and keep them with you. Just in case that bitch tries to say the words were forged."

The Grand Maester quickly retreated to the King's desk, collecting three pieces of paper and three quills with ink before returning and giving one of each to Ser Barristan and Ned. "Now, sit down and listen, the three of you," Robert breathed, "I don't know if I'll be able to say these again…so listen well. I, Robert Baratheon…titles titles…do hereby declare these to be my final words to be carried out upon my death. Joffrey Baratheon…is to be disinherited in perpetuity from the line of succession to the Iron Throne. His fate will be determined by his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, who shall take wardship of Joffrey immediately following my passing."

Ned's quill, which had been flowing neatly across the page, stopped as he fully heard just what Robert was declaring. Glancing up, he saw that both the Grand Maester and Barristan were wearing equally surprised looks upon their faces. "What?" Robert asked, glancing at all three of them. "You all know that boy is a shit prince and will be an even worse King than I ever was. He cannot be allowed anywhere near that fucking chair, and you all know it. Now, let's keep going. As Myrcella and Tommen are too young, I hereby appoint Lord Eddard Stark, titles titles, to the position of Regent of the Seven Kingdoms for a period of five years, or until the end of the next winter. After which, a Grand Council will be held to determine if either Myrcella, or Tommen, or another candidate is worthy of the Iron Throne."

Now Ned nearly did drop his quill. Robert was…naming him King in all but name for five years? For the love of the gods, he could barely stand being in this city and being Hand of the King for a few months! "Robert, I –"

"Save your breath, Ned," Robert coughed. "Like I said…I'm a shit of a friend. I'm not doing you a favor. I'm doing this cause I know that you are perhaps the one man that can truly lead this Kingdom through a winter… Especially if this winter will be as bad as you and the Sorcerer are claiming it will be. And if you give me some shit about Stannis or Renly…I trust you more than either of them. One of them ran away from his duties, something I never thought I'd live to see. And the other has his head far too buried in the Tyrell's asses to be anything more than a puppet. Now finish up my words and hand them over so I can sign them while I still got some strength left in me."

Frowning, Ned finished writing out the King's decree along with Barristan and Jeorge before the three men handed their copies over to the King to review and sign off on. Going over each page, Robert took his time reading the words written before signing his name to the bottom of each and handing them back to them. "Each of you keep hold of your copies. Now, Barristan, Jeorge…leave. I want to have one last talk with my oldest…and only friend before I die. And it's not a talk for either of your ears."

The two men both took their copies of the King's will before bowing to Robert and quickly leaving the room. Now alone, Ned pulled his chair around closer to the side of the bed so that he was sitting within arm's reach of Robert. "I…I never thought I would see this day come," Ned said, truthfully not even sure where to begin.

Robert, however, just laughed. "You're still shit at starting conversations. You know that, Ned? But then again, you always have been. But…That isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Not what I want our final talk to be about. Even though I know this is going to hurt, even more than that bastard's dagger that gutted me… We need to talk of…of truths."

Ned blinked. "I've always been truthful with you, Robert."

His friend merely laughed. "Horseshit, Ned. No one in this world is 'always' truthful. You've lied to me…I've lied to you. And now with my guts spilling out and my blood leaving me…I want us to stop with the lies… Just for once and tell the truth." Robert paused, his eyes closing as if bracing himself for pain. "She… She never loved me…did she?"

There was no need for clarification as to just who Robert was referring to. And while Ned immediately wanted to reassure his friend, he knew that Robert already knew. He just wanted to hear the truth. "No, she didn't."

A single tear escaped Roberts' closed eyes. "Did…Did she love him?"

This was truth that Ned had never lied on. "No."

Robert's eyes opened, and instead of seeing a relieved expression in them, Ned saw only sadness. "Because she loved…her, Elia Martell."

This stopped Ned cold. There…There was simply no way that Robert could have known about that! "Where would you—?!"

"No lies, Ned," Robert said quickly, shooting a look at him that stopped his words in his throat. "We're speaking truths here. And before you try and spin some mummer's farce, don't. I saw them—briefly—at Harrenhal. Embracing and kissing in a way that would send any man looking for relief, either by his own hand or with a whore."

Ned hung his head. "Aye. She loved Elia, but she was young and—"

"—and knew that I was a right bastard," Robert sighed. "I know she told you how I acted at Harrenhal, Ned. And…she was right. I was an idiot. I told her she was mine and she should just accept it. Bedding now or later, it didn't matter. That she would be mine. And she kneed me right in the fucking balls. Gods…such fire. I suppose that's what drove her to the Martells, and when I heard the silver-haired fuck absconded with her…I – I had suspicion that it wasn't…fully against her will. But I never gave voice to my suspicion."

Ned was honestly shocked. His friend, he…he suspected that Lyanna's kidnapping by Rhaegar wasn't fully true. And yet… And yet he never said a word. Fighting against the anger, the betrayal, Ned focused on what came next. "Regardless, Robert… The Mad King needed to be removed…after what he did to my father and brother, what he'd been doing to the realm. And even if my sister went willingly with Rhaegar, he had no reason to act as secretively as he did."

"Aye," Robert nodded. "Those dragon fucks needed to die for what they'd done. But…But now… Now I know that the children… They should have been spared. But I…I was just so angry and…and pleased to see that the bitch who'd stolen my wolf from me was dead, that I…I just let it go. I say I see myself killing Rhaegar every night, Ned. But that's…that's not all. I see them…all three of them. Looking up at me and I – Gods…"

Ned, honestly, he didn't know what to say to his friend. He was…There were so many emotions warring for supremacy within him that he honestly couldn't feel anything. He was just numb. "Robert…As we're talking truths…and children…you should know –"

"I already know, Ned," Robert sighed, giving Ned a look. "I'm a shit King and father. But I'm not blind. Especially after having my own bastard children paraded in front of me, looking like every Baratheon who came before them regardless of their mother. I know…Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen aren't mine. Honestly, I don't even care whose they are. Though I do have my suspicions. But even though I'm not their father…I love Myrcella and Tommen like they were my own and I want your word, Ned, that no matter what happens, you will do everything in your power to protect them."

Robert's admission that he already knew about the royal children not being his own shocked Ned deeply. "I – I promise, Robert. I won't let any harm come to those two." Both men had purposefully left out Joffrey, something which both knew and didn't need to be acknowledged.

"Thank you, Ned," Robert sighed, a grateful smile on his face, "I knew that you, of all people, would understand. To love a child you've raised who isn't your own."

"Robert?"

His friend turned his head and gave him a look. "Like I said, Ned. I'm not blind nor an idiot. Jon Stark…He's Lyanna's boy, isn't he?"

He wanted to deny it. It was his first instinct and reaction after so long. He wanted to fall back into the lie he'd been telling for nearly two decades. But he knew now that there was no point. "Aye, he is."

Robert nodded. "You were right, Ned. To hide the boy from me. Hells, to hide him from everyone. Tywin would've stopped at nothing to see him killed. And any still loyal to the dragons would've been trying to put his ass on the throne and use him like a puppet. You did good in raising him. And now Nox has given him power unlike anything ever seen since the Valyrian Empire." Pausing, Robert made sure he was looking Ned in the eye before finishing. "He will be a good King, Ned."

Again, Ned felt like he was being thrown about like a banner in the wind. "King? Robert…What are y—?"

"Just shut up and listen to me, Ned. For once, I know what I'm talking about," Robert said firmly. "You need to act now, even before I breathe my last, Ned. Don't wait for me to grow cold or for a proper time of mourning to pass. Act now. Cause that power-hungry cunt I call my Queen won't wait. She's always said that she should be King, and through her children, she will be in all but name. So, you need to act fast. Use your son's wife to shore up as many trade agreements with Volantis. Then up the timing of Sansa's wedding to Willas. Reinstate Stannis as ruler of Storm's End and betroth your other boy to Shireen. I know that your other girl, Arya, is as likely to gut a man as to let him touch her, but I'm sure you can find someone strong enough in the Vale for her liking. Then with the North tied to the Reach, the Stormlands, the Vale, the Iron Isles through Asha and Theon, Volantis, and Dorne, you put forth Jon's name and reveal his true parentage to the Seven Kingdoms and name him King once your regency has come to an end. Only then, with the entire realm against him, will Tywin Lannister concede defeat. If you don't…then there will be blood, Ned. And given what's coming…blood and death is the last thing the Seven Kingdom's need right now."

Ned, he didn't know what to say. His friend was…was telling him to all but usurp the throne from the Baratheon line…and to do it before his body was even cold. "Robert, this—"

"Gods damn your honor, Ned," Robert growled, which launched his friend into another coughing fit, spilling yet even more blood. "You can rule honorably every now and then, Ned… But you know that sometimes you need to feed your honor to the dogs to do what needs be done. This isn't about doing right by me. Or my shit brothers. Or my…my children. This is about doing what needs to be done for the good of the realm, Ned. This…This is the last thing I ask of you. As your friend…as your brother."

"I…gods damn you, Robert," Ned sighed, lowering his head and running his hand through his hair. "I – I'll see it done."

Robert smiled, a genuine smile. "Good…Thank you, Ned. I wish I could hold on longer…long enough for the Sorcerer to be here and aid in the transition. But…I doubt the Stranger will hold off on taking me for several moons. Give me some milk of the poppy, Ned…and leave me to die…a death I deserve."

Tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, Ned slowly stood up and picked up the small cup that he knew contained milk of the poppy. Giving his friend one last look, Ned handed the cup over before turning his back on his friend and leaving him to die.

Opening the doors to the royal chambers, Ned paid no mind to the Kingsguard standing vigil outside the King's chamber. He did note that Ser Jamie was absent, but truthfully he didn't care. When the time came, Ned fully intended on removing the disgrace from the Kingsguard. Though whether he would return him to the Wall or Casterly Rock, Ned still was unsure. He'd probably have to do the latter, at least to curry some favor with the Lannisters to aid in the transition. "Gods," Ned swore quietly to himself as he marched down the hall. "Here for only little over a moon's turn…and I'm already thinking and acting like a southern noble prick."

He just barely made it out of the royal wing before he was brought up short as Renly quickly stepped out into the hall in front of him, purposefully standing in his path. "So… My brother is dying, Lord Stark?"

"Aye," Ned responded simply, not in the mood for exchanging words at the present time.

"And he is denying any aid… Including from your daughter who could heal his wounds with but a snap of her fingers, right? Of course, he is… That's just how he is." Ned tried to walk past Renly, but the king's brother was relentless and proceeded to follow him. "He dictated a will to you, did he not? Let me guess, he made you Regent until his children are ready to take the throne."

"He did."

Renly chuckled, shaking his head. "She won't let you, you know. Cersei. She'll kill you before you can ever step foot towards the Iron Throne before her golden child has a chance to polish it with his ass."

Ned stopped at turned towards Renly. "I have the King's will–"

"A flimsy piece of paper that she will discard the moment my brother passes," Renly cut in. "And your men are out in the field dealing with whoever is that is slaughtering the faithful in the Crownlands. You have no real support here in King's Landing…but you can have mine."

Ned frowned as he looked, truly looked, at the man. "And what do you bring? The Baratheon men at arms here number my own and are less than half the number of Lannister men."

Renly smirked. "But I can also bring the Tyrell men, including Ser Loras, to our side. And all that you would need to do is accept me as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Hells, I'll even let you keep your position as Hand of the King if you wish, or you can head back to the North, which I know you prefer. Support me now, and whatever post you wish will be yours."

Ned was taken aback by the brazen request. "You – You would name yourself King? Before the royal children? Before Stannis?"

Renly's face twitched. "Cersei's spawn do not deserve to sit anywhere near the throne. Joffrey is a violent little shit. Myrcella is a woman and Tommen is far too weak. And Stannis, he may be a good soldier, but I think my brother has proven that good soldiers don't make good kings. And more importantly, none of them have the love of the people like I do. Discard the will, join me, and I will have a hundred swords in the castle tonight. Combined with your own men, we will easily take the Red Keep and put Cersei and her spawn into custody. From there, it is just a simple matter of my coronation and then you can do as you wish with my blessing."

Ned felt his rage building, the wolf within snarling at such a ridiculous command and plan. Even if Ned were to discard his dying friend's, his King will, he would not support Renly for the throne. Such an act not only went against every established law of succession, but it would also guarantee war throughout the Seven Kingdoms. "I will not dishonor Robert's final words. Nor disrupt the peace. I will carry out my friend's, my King's, last request to the letter, Lord Renly."

The young man fumed before him, his face going red. Yet Ned did not budge. He was a father of five, he'd seen children's tantrums before. And as he watched Renly sputter and fume before turning around and marching quickly away, Ned realized that that was exactly what Renly was. A child playing at being a man. Though Ned would concede that Renly wasn't entirely wrong. To say that the Queen would not be pleased with Robert's final will would be an understatement. He had to be ready for whatever move she might make. And the first step would be to secure his children's safety.

"Damn you Robert," he growled quietly to himself as he moved towards the tower of the hand.