Author's Note
I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.
There is a change, as Lord Stark burns, and the wildfire begins to falter around him. Confusion. It should be important, but all that matters to him is the pain, the newfound ice under his skin – and his son.
Brandon is dying. He will strangle himself, he sees, and while Rickard has never watched it happen before, he can see his Blood shining through. He will Turn, here in the Throne Room, if no one does anything.
The lords watching whisper of witchcraft.
But perhaps he should have thought more about himself, because he feels the chains holding him freeze over, and a great blade of ice cleaves through them. He falls, and the cold in him extinguishes the last of the fire.
"It appears I win," he says, hurrying to free Brandon before the fool boy kills himself.
The King seems confused, and then furious. "Kill them! Kill them both!"
Brandon is panting, and his hair and skin have changed, but his eyes are still Stark grey. Rickard must be too late to save him. If they escape, perhaps they can yet save Ned and Benjen, so that some of his children might live.
"I don't believe we're a match, Father," Brandon says.
"Neither do I."
But they'll not go down snivelling, even as the knights of the Red Keep close in.
He is burned, and broken, and weak, yet their weapons shatter against his skin and the ice in him takes ten down before he falls. Had he had a moment longer to heal, he might have escaped with Brandon, but instead he burns as the pyromancers pour liquid fire down his throat.