Chapter 35: More

The battle flourished around him. Jaime took a swing and felt bone crunch. His blood was up. His attitude was flaring. His mind was set. This was what he was about. This was who he was. This is why he lived.

For too long he'd allowed himself to be subdued, to become nothing more than a glorified chaperone. Guarding a fat King and a sister who hated life. But now, now he was back to doing what he loved.

The Rivermen were putting on quite the fight. Jaime would give them that. They weren't giving up easily. Indeed, if the bodies lying on either side of him were any indication, they were going to sacrifice everything they had to stop him and his men.

That would be their downfall. One thing he had learned over the years was that when you were outnumbered as the Rivermen were, the key to succeeding was to pull back and force the enemy to make a mistake. The more mistakes the enemy made, the more impatient they got, the greater the chance was that you could win.

Jaime would fully admit that he was not the most patient of people. Perhaps it was because he was a Lannister. But things needed to happen there and then. When he wanted them to, not when others wanted them to happen. He would find ways to force the matter if nothing else.

On the field of battle that might cause issues, but right now, with the enemy being so weak and commanded by those who did not know their hands from their arse, he was thriving. He glanced at his side, his men were overwhelming the enemy and soon they would surrender.

That thought caused him to grin. A surrender would give him hostages. Men that he could use to ransom and gain money and humiliate Riverrun. If Father was right-and Jaime had no reason to doubt that-then Hoster Tully would never recover from this. He'd need to find a way around it, but he'd struggle.

A roar sounded somewhere, causing Jaime to turn to try and find the source of the sound. Nothing came immediately to view, but after some time, he heard a horn sounding. He frowned. Were the Rivermen retreating?

"Lucion," Jaime called. His cousin rode toward him. "What's going on?"

"The Rivermen are retreating, Ser Jaime. It seems they're haring their way back to Riverrun." Lucion replied.

Jaime nodded; he knew that he shouldn't chase after them himself. But his blood was up. "We're going to follow them. Pass the order on." His cousin nodded and the order was passed down.

The moment the last one of his men had been alerted, Jaime spurred his horse on. The galloping hooves set a rhythm that his heart decided to follow. The chase was on, and frankly this was exhilarating.

A few of the Rivermen came haring back toward him trying to prevent him from chasing them. Jaime laughed into the wind, his sword singing as the enemy were brought low. More men appeared and Jaime handled them the same way.

Blood dripped from his sword, his mind whirred. More men were turning to fight him, but before they could clash, the men withdrew. He roared in anger but urged his horse on. He would find them, and he would gut them.

The ground whizzed past as his horse moved through, his men moved with him. The enemy was in the distance, getting further and further from sight. Jaime knew that soon they'd get too far for him to capture, at least if he wanted his horse not to get exhausted.

"One last push!" He bellowed. His horse broke out in front, tearing through. The ground turning into nothing but dust beneath the hooves of the beast.

His heart thumped.

So close.

He brought his horse up when he saw the enemy disappear. He bellowed into the air. Riverrun. He'd meet them at Riverrun and win.

The cell was dark and dingy. He could hear someone screaming in the distance. He exhaled. Things had not gone as he'd planned. His attempt to set the tone for the rest of the year had failed. Cersei had clearly been prepared. Though he and his men had managed to take out some of the Red Cloaks and some of the Gold Cloaks, things had ended when he'd felt Baelish's knife pressed to his throat.

That little shit had said nothing. Only when Ned had asked him why he'd broken his promise had Baelish replied.

"I made that promise to Cat, you are not Cat."

It reinforced a thought he'd been having since he'd learned that the man still loved his wife. He should've killed Baelish when he'd had the chance. Now that man was going to become wealthy and Ned was going to remain here, rotting in the dark.

The worst thing was, he didn't even know what had happened to his men. To Harwin, to Hothar, to Ryswell, to Stout. For all he knew they could be dead and it would be his fault. He sighed.

"What a mess." He murmured to himself.

"What a mess indeed." A voice said in the darkness.

"Who's there?" Ned asked.

There was no response for a moment and then a light appeared causing him to wince and move back in his cell. He blinked and saw a figure, a shadowy figure but one he vaguely recognised.

"Varys?"

"The one and the same." The man said, his voice deep.

"What are you doing here?" Ned demanded.

"I have come to tell you some things." Varys said.

"Why?" Ned asked.

"Because you deserve to know them." Varys said.

"What things?" Ned demanded.

"Your household has been disbanded. Those men you brought with you to fight in the throne room are awaiting trial. Some will be forced to take the Black; others may be executed. And the rest will be sent back north." Varys said.

Ned nodded, he knew there was no point in protesting that.

"As of yet, no word has been sent to Winterfell to inform them of what has happened." Varys continued. "It seems that the King wishes to make you an offer."

"The King?" Ned asked surprised. Surely Joffrey would not want to make him an offer after he'd deliberately declared the boy the wrongful heir.

"Indeed. The King plans on offering you the chance to recant the words you issued in the throne room. He wants you to declare that he is the rightful heir to King Robert and that you were wrong and confused. If you do that then he will allow you to return to Winterfell and remain as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Varys said.

"He would make that offer when he has not offered the same to those who were with me in the throne room." Ned said. "The King did not make this offer, his mother did." This reeked of Cersei, no doubt trying to sow division by offering him special treatment.

"Indeed." Varys said.

"I cannot accept. I will not accept." Ned replied. "If my men are to suffer the Wall or the executioner's block, then that is a fate I will also accept. My honour demands nothing less."

"Even if it means war?" Varys asked.

Ned exhaled. "It will not come to war."

"How do you know? Joffrey will not give up the throne to his sister. And your son will not rest if you are executed." Varys said.

Even though it pained him to say it, Ned knew he needed to stand by his principles. He would not allow his men to go the block whilst he remained free. He looked Varys in the eyes as he repied. "My son will do the right thing. As will all those who know right from wrong." He paused and took a breath then said. "If that means war, then so be it."

Barristan walked as quickly as his legs would take him. The figure before him refused to slow down, and therefore, Barristan had to walk quickly. Ever since the attempt to enforce King Robert's will had failed, Barristan had been kept not in the black cells as he'd expected, but in a room to the far end of the Red Keep.

It was a room that hadn't been used since the days of Aegon the Fortunate. It was the room that Barristan had slept in when he'd been a squire for Prince Duncan the Small. The bed was cramped, the walls were peeling off and there were moths in some places. He'd slept with a cover over his head and taken his meals in a corner far from the door.

He had fully expected to be executed. But it seemed someone had decided to spare him that, for earlier this evening his door had been opened and left unlocked. He had thought it a trap until he had hesitatingly walked forward and walked out of the room. He had looked both ways and seen a figure waiting for him to his right, he'd walked to the figure who then walked out.

They'd been on this pathway for some time now. Barristan wondered if he was being led into a trap, but something in him told him that he was on the right path. He didn't bother speaking to the man leading him this way. He'd tried when they'd initially left the Keep, but the man had ignored him.

When they got onto a narrow stretch of road, he knew immediately where they were. This was the way to the port, where the ships docked when they wanted to offload goods for King's Landing. Was he being freed? Or was he being led somewhere where he would be killed and then framed?

He opened his mouth to say something when the figure spoke.

"Not here." The figure's voice was deep. Barristan closed his mouth, and they walked in silence for a few more moments before coming to a stop. A ship was docked before them, a man who was clearly the captain-dressed as he was-stood on the deck waiting for them. Barristan got a read of the ship's name and then looked at the figure again.

"Lord Eddard asked that you be freed and taken north." The figure said.

"Lord Eddard still has that sway?" Barristan asked surprised, as far as he knew Lord Eddard was still in a cell somewhere in the black cells, far from free.

"Yes." The figure said, his voice gruff.

"Why did you agree to help him?" Barristan asked, trying to figure out who this figure was.

"Because you are needed alive, Ser Barristan." The figure said.

Barristan frowned. "What do you mean?"

The figure exhaled. "There is a war approaching. Prince Joffrey will not respect King Robert's will and will do what is needed to secure his throne. He intends to have Lord Eddard executed. The man's son will fight to free his father and then for revenge. The war that will come from that will be destructive, even more so because King Robert's brothers are going to claim the throne. Princess Myrcella, will you need her at her side. Your presence will add legitimacy to her claim, and you will be a good advisor to her husband."

Barristan frowned. "So, I am to be a weapon." The thought didn't disgust him as much as it perhaps should. Perhaps it was because of how he'd been treated by Joffrey and Cersei.

"Yes. And you will do the role well." The figure said. "Now go, go north to Winterfell and ensure the right Baratheon ascends the throne."

Barristan nodded, he moved forward, and got onto the board that allowed him to get onto the ship. He nodded to the captain then watched as the ship moved away from the dock.

The next time he would be here would be with Princess Myrcella. Or rather, Queen Myrcella.