Easiest and longest chapter I've written so far.
Ned V
"Gather men!" Ned shouted down to the guards who stood in the courtyard below, looking around in confusion and shock. "We must fight the blaze before it consumes the city! Ser Mandon, run to the rookery. We must send ravens to every nearby keep to send their maesters as soon as possible. Go!"
The two members of the Kingsguard ran off to do as told. Members of the Gold Cloaks and Ned's own guard were slower to react.
The King was still staring at the green flames in shock.
"Robert!"
Robert shook his head, as if coming from a daze, and a resolute look overtook his face. He marched down the stairs, with Ned and a still stunned Ser Jaime following behind him.
"Get me every shovel and bucket in this damn city!" Robert shouted. "You, get the Rivergate open. I want you three to gather as many people as possible and get a bucket brigade going. Move dammit!"
Those still around them rushed to do as told, including those Robert had pointed at specifically. Several of Ned's men moved to join them, to act as an escort as Robert led them out of the Red Keep and into the city proper. It was pure disorder as the common folk ran to escape the flames, knocking each other over in the process.
Ned saw a Gold Cloak captain doing his best to organize things but he was a speck of gold in a sea of chaos. He approached the captain, shouldering through the people to do so.
"Where is Commander Slynt?" Ned demanded.
"He … he ran sir," the captain admitted. "He tried to corral the masses but as soon as he saw the wildfire he turned tail and ran."
On top of all the other charges Ned had against Janos Slynt, he could now add cowardice to the list as well. Once this whole mess was over with, he'd be meeting with Robert and Renly to get the Gold Cloaks sorted out.
"Spread the word to the rest of the Gold Cloaks. Open the gates and direct the people out of the city. Better they panic outside the walls than in. Any common folk brave enough to stay and help should report to the Rivergate to form a bucket brigade. Any spare Gold Cloaks should report here to help battle the fires."
The captain nodded and went to spread the word. Ned turned back to see Robert and most of those that followed had already moved to the fire to help fight it. Harwin and Jory, two of the men who had escorted them from the Red Keep had stayed with Ned.
"What now m'lord?" Jory asked, as they moved to join the rest.
"Now we get the King the hell away from the fire. What is he thinking?"
Robert wouldn't budge. He was a man of action and had done nothing but sit on his ass the past nine years. These were the moments he lived for and Ned couldn't change his mind.
"We need to create a fire break."
The men from the North nodded in understanding but Robert and Ser Jaime just looked at him in confusion. It was a never before occurrence for either of them to participate in fire fighting duties. The North was vast in size and sparse in population, if a fire broke out in the Wolfswood near Winterfell, Ned helped put it out because every man was needed.
"When there's a forest fire that cannot be controlled, the only way to stop it is to move ahead of it and remove all potential kindling in its path, and let it burn out where it stands. While some men fight this fire, others need to move ahead of it and start demolishing and removing the wooden structures in its path."
When Ned trudged into the Tower of the Hand later that night, after over twelve hours of fighting the fire with thousands of others, the fire was still raging in the city below but it was contained. At least that was the hope. With a fury, hundreds of men had set on the nearby houses and shops, tearing at them with axes and hammers, dismantling them and carrying the wood far away. At the same time, thousands more shoveled dirt or worked to get buckets of water from the Blackwater Rush to pour on the flames.
Buildings still burned, but there were fewer of them. Fifty men stayed behind to make sure the fire stayed contained. They would take stock of the damage tomorrow, and try their best to identify all those who had died. They would also need to figure out what to do with all the common folk who were now homeless.
He had wanted to lower the population and rebuild the Dragonpit, but not like this.
Ned took a quick bath in lukewarm water to wash off the grime and the smell of smoke that clung to his skin. By the time he got back to his rooms, wrapped tightly in a robe, he wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next three days straight. But sitting on his bed, faces filled with worry, were Bran and Sansa with their direwolves at their feet. The hour was late and both should have been in bed long ago but their fear and worry must have kept them up.
"Father!" Sansa cried, running into his arms. "We were so worried."
"I'm fine, but many in the city are not."
"What happened?" Bran asked, standing from the bed.
Ned remembered seeing Ser Robar with a shovel in his hand, helping to fight the fire. Bran must have wisely been left behind and had sought comfort with his sister.
"I don't know, son. Tomorrow will be a day for answers, but right now it's late. You should both be in bed."
"We wanted to make sure you were okay," Sansa explained.
Ned kissed the top of his daughter's head and gave them both a tired smile.
"And I am grateful." He ushered both the children to his bedroom door. "It would be best to not go on the morning walk for the next few days. Lady and Summer will have to make do with the godswood."
Every morning since arriving in King's Landing, no matter if it was sunshine or rain, the direwolves would be escorted to the Kingswood for a few hours to stretch their legs and hunt. Oftentimes Sansa would accompany them after her morning lessons, and sometimes Bran would as well when he got permission from Ser Robar. Even though it had been the northwestern section of the city that had burned, opposite of the Rivergate that led to the Kingswood, there was no telling how safe the streets would be to travel; desperate people could do desperate things.
"Yes father," they both answered.
"Good. Now off to bed."
The next morning he rose later than normal and had a small breakfast in his room by himself. He was informed that both his children and their direwolves were in the Godswood, under the watchful eye of Harwin and a few other of his men.
The King was in the throne room, where Ned found him sitting on the Iron Throne as members of the Gold Cloaks informed him that the last of the flames had died out over the night but there were still embers that burned hot and could potentially start the fire anew if they weren't careful. There were men who were doing their best to quelch the heat of the embers so they could begin the process of clearing out the rubble.
Tents had been set up outside the city walls for the wounded, where maesters and others worked on them the best they could. Ned had seen the wounds from fire before, he had seen skin sliding off flesh due to untrained hands, it was not a sight he wished to see again. Other tents were being set up to house the homeless, though they feared they didn't have enough tents to house them all.
Robert for his part looked tired but somehow more alive than Ned had ever seen since the King had first come to Winterfell. During the small breaks between each man relaying what information they had, the King would turn to Ser Barristan, who stood dutifully at his side, and regale the white haired knight with snippets of the fight against the fire.
Despite his aching muscles, Ned stood and waited for everyone else to have their turn. It was over an hour before it was just Ned, the King, Ser Barristan, and the guards who lined the walls.
"Ned, you look like shit," Robert boomed as Ned stepped forward.
"Thank you, your grace," Ned replied with a tired grin.
"Most of the aftermath is being handled. Though we'll need to bring in supplies and workers once everything is cleared to rebuild."
Ned nodded at Robert's words. "That is all well and good, but right now I think it is best we try to get to the bottom of the explosion."
Robert leaned forward on the throne, his face curious. "You know something?"
Ned shook his head. "I don't, but I believe Ser Jaime does."
Both Robert's and Ser Barristan's eyebrows rose upon his declaration.
"What makes you say that?"
"Did you see his face after the explosion happened? Like he had seen a ghost from his past. Where is Ser Jaime?"
"Guarding the queen," Ser Barristan answered.
"Summon him," Robert ordered. "And let's see what secrets the Kingslayer holds."
Ned had a chair brought into the throne room while they waited for some Gold Cloaks to get the man. He was too tired and sore to remain standing any longer. With silence needing to be filled, Robert launched into full details of last night. He enthused about it the same way he did when recalling one of the battles he had fought in.
Ser Jaime strode into the room half an hour later, and Ned took note that he lacked the usual swagger in his step. Like Ned and the King, Ser Jaime looked tired with dark bags under his eyes.
"You summoned me, your grace?" Ser Jaime asked, bowing.
"What do you know about wildfires?" Robert demanded.
"Your grace, the wild - I don't know anything."
Ned didn't just hear the hesitation in Ser Jaime's words, he saw it in his actions.
"You do," Ned said. "I saw the look on your face after the explosion. What do you know of it? Who put the wildfire there?"
Ser Jaime bowed his head and stood still for several moments. Ned thought he wasn't going to say anything.
Robert let out a grunt of frustration. "Answer the damn-"
"The Mad King." It was said quietly and all three of them leaned forward to see if they heard right when it was repeated. "The Mad King put the wildfire there."
Ned looked at Ser Barristan, who was also a part of the court at that time, but he looked more confused than anything. How could Ser Jaime, who was the youngest and newest member of the Kingsguard at the time, know more than one of its senior members?
"Tell it all."
And so Ser Jaime did. How the Mad King, fearing the rebels, had the Pyromancers make hundreds of pots of wildfire, and stored them underneath the important areas of King's Landing; the Red Keep, The Great Sept of Baelor, the Dragonpit, and each of the gates through the outer walls. How the plan was to ignite the caches and burn the city, and everyone in it to the ground to prevent Robert from claiming it. Half the Kingsguard had been with Rhaegar at the Trident, and the other half had disappeared in Dorne under the orders of the Prince, which left only one of their order in King's Landing. That had been the reason, Ser Jaime said, he had stabbed the King in the back and earned his nickname of Kingslayer. He told of how afterwards he had hunted down anyone else who knew of the plot and killed them too, leaving him the only one left who knew where the caches were.
Ned felt his head spinning for a multitude of reasons. Below his feet was wildfire that had been sitting for fifteen years, slowly turning into an even more volatile mixture. He had allowed his children to live here with such a threat under them this entire time. And then there was his disdain of the man called Kingslayer, for his breaking of his oath, when the apparent reason for breaking said oath was to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Truly a noble purpose, but in keeping the secret he had allowed thousands to die.
Ned was no stranger to keeping secrets. He just hoped his own didn't lead to so much death and destruction.
"They discovered two hundred jars of wildfire under the Great Sept last year," Ser Barristan recalled. "No one knew how they got there."
"Ser Barristan, go to the Alchemist Guild. We need every pyromancer available scouring the cellars, tunnels, and catacombs of this city and safely removing the wildfire so it can be properly disposed of. Tell them to start at the Iron Gate, the Dragon Gate, and the Old Gate. Once those are done, we will evacuate the Red Keep and they can search under here."
"Of course, your grace." Ser Barristan bowed low and hurried from the room.
"Ser Jaime, for fifteen years you have been despised and mocked for what should be your greatest achievement. Yet despite that, here we stand dealing with the consequences of your ignorance." Robert sighed heavily. He sounded more like a King now than at any other point Ned had known him. "Thousands are dead and hundreds more will be crippled because you kept the secret of this wildfire to yourself, having no idea how dangerous a secret you kept. And as my brother is fond of saying, 'a good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.' As punishment for your silence, you will be temporarily removed from your post. Your cloak and armor and sword will stay here, and you will be in Flea Bottom, helping to clear away the rubble and helping to rebuild what was lost."
Ser Jaime looked stunned. He opened his mouth to protest but then he did something Ned had never seen before; Jaime Lannister closed his mouth without a word. Instead he took off his cloak and let it flutter to the floor behind him. Next he undid the belt around his waist, the one that held his sword, and let it fall. Then he turned on his heel and marched from the room without a backward look.
Two days later and Ned again found himself in the throne room, though this time instead of Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, he and the King were joined by Renly with Ser Mandon Moore standing vigil next to the King.
The King was already in a bad mood because the Tourney of the Hand, which was going to be held in ten days time, almost five weeks after Ned's arrival in King's Landing, had to be canceled. Logically, the King knew they couldn't hold the tourney anymore but that didn't mean the man had to be happy about it.
And Ned was making the King's mood worse. He held up stacks of parchment that he clutched in his hand and waved about as he talked. "Hundreds of allegations of being drunk on the job, extortion, bribery, assault, rape, murder, and dozens of other crimes. And it isn't just the bottom tiered men of the Gold Cloaks, it's the captains and even the lord commander himself! Who, I now know due to him running the night of the fire, is also a coward! How could you let the Gold Cloaks sink so low?"
Renly grimaced under Ned's glare, the usual smile on his face falling away. "Janos Slynt is corrupt," Renly agreed, not bothering to offer any defense. "I have done my best to counter him but he is much more influential with the Gold Cloaks than I. Jon Arryn wanted to remove him from his post a few years ago but, well, it didn't happen."
Ned didn't need to see Renly casting a furtive glance to Robert to know it was the King who had kept Janos on as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks.
"Baelish argued to keep him," Robert said, defending himself before Ned could levy any accusations. "And I figured, better the stranger you know, then the one you don't."
There was Robert's preference for doing nothing over doing something. When it came to fighting a fire he was a man of action, but when it came to ruling the realm he couldn't be bothered. Rather than go after Robert for being a lazy and poor ruler, which he knew would just make the man angrier and more defensive, Ned decided to just move forward with solving the problem in front of him.
"This can't keep up. These men deserve punishment. The city festers with crime, and half of it is perpetrated by those tasked with keeping it safe."
"I should be out hunting, or out there with my face buried in a pair of tits." Robert rubbed his face. "Out with it then, Ned, what do you propose?"
"Janos Slynt should be executed. For multiple reasons, but this was his second chance and he screwed it up. Most of the rest of the men should be sent to the Wall. Some should be kicked out of the Gold Cloaks and banished from the city. The rest of the infractions are minor enough where we can let them slide with a warning."
"Fine, agreed," the King murmured.
Ned wondered if his friend regretted dragging him out of the North to be his Hand yet.
"Do you have names?" Renly asked.
Ned handed the stack of parchments over to Renly. Each one held the name of a man and then a list of the crimes he was alleged to have committed. These accusations were backed up by multiple witnesses, including some of Ned's own men who had seen the behavior first hand.
"These are very thorough," Renly stated as he shuffled through the pieces of parchment. "I will take my personal guards and start rounding them up."
"If that is all, you are both dismissed."
Ned and Renly both bowed low before walking from the room. Renly had a group of Baratheon men waiting outside the throne room, who he immediately started issuing orders to. Ned had his own group of Stark men, who would be accompanying him outside of the city.
However, before they could leave the corridor outside the throne room, Ned was approached by Jory, who held a folded up piece of parchment in his hand.
"Letter from Winterfell, Lord Stark," Jory said, holding out the piece of parchment.
Ned took and opened it, and recognized Jon's handwriting. The boy was likely back from Castle Black and was reporting on what Ned had asked for him to keep an ear out for. The letter said that Tyrion Lannister made no mention of the King, the previous Hand or anyone at court besides his siblings; his sister who he disliked and his brother who he loved. That was disappointing to Ned, as he hoped to gain even the slightest of hints into what role the Lannisters had in the death of Jon Arryn.
The letter then continued with something that made Ned's eyebrows go up. Jon had given Arya a sword, a bravo sword, and was requesting permission for her to receive training. Jon listed his arguments in three points, one after the other. Jorelle Mormont being able to train at Winterfell while Arya, who was a Stark, could not, was insulting. By allowing Arya to be trained with a sword on the promise that she attend her other lessons, it ensured she would never skip another lesson. They had all witnessed Arya stealing training swords and practicing on her own enough to know she would likely keep doing it in secret, where her chances of hurting herself increased.
Ned found he couldn't really argue against anything Jon said, especially now that Arya had been given a sword of her own. Cat wouldn't like it, he knew that, but he could convince his wife. Although he would have to make it seem like it was his own idea, lest Jon suffer the wrath of Cat. And if his little girl was going to learn to fight with such a small sword, she would need to be taught by someone who knew how to wield it.
"Jory, search what remains standing of the city and see if you can't find me a bravo."
"A bravo, m'lord?" Jory asked, brows furrowed.
"A swordsman from the Free Cities," Ned explained. "They use small and thin swords to fight. You should be able to identify them by their colorful outfits and their accents."
"I'll see what I can find."
Jory walked off, scratching at the back of his head and likely wondering where he was going to find a bravo. Ned beckoned the rest of his guard, and led them from the Red Keep. Their journey was through the Iron Gate and to the refugee camp set up outside the walls of the city.
The entirety of Flea Bottom had burned to the ground, as had most of the buildings that surrounded Rhaenys' Hill. The hill which had once towered forty feet in the air was now maybe ten feet at most. Many buildings that had been spared by the fire were still damaged from falling stone and wood from the initial explosion.
The entire area, almost a third of the city, would need to be rebuilt. They would need to bring in architects to draw up plans. Given how quickly the rubble was being cleared away, they would need to have them brought in soon.
Outside the city gates hundreds of tents had been erected. There were still moans coming from the ones housing the wounded. The maesters from houses Rosby, Stokeworth, Hayford, and Brindle, had all come to lend their assistance to the few maesters who lived in the city itself.
A group of Gold Cloaks surrounded thirty-three boys, ranging from the age of ten to eighteen. These boys had been made orphans by the fire, and were only a part of the three to four hundred children who shared similar fates, but the others were either too young or the wrong gender.
"Is this all of them?" Ned asked the closest Gold Cloak.
"All those who remained either inside or outside the city."
Ned nodded and stepped closer to the boys. "I am Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King. What has happened is terrible, and I am truly sorry you are suffering through this. Most of you are probably wondering what are you to do now, with no home or support. I come before you with an offer. The Night's Watch needs men. It is a lifelong commitment to a hard life in the cold of the North, but as a man of the Night's Watch you will be given food, shelter, and most important of all, a purpose."
The boys stared at him silently, some sullen, some with anger, and others with empty eyes. It was cruel of him to ask this of them now, when most of them were still reeling from the deaths of their parents and other family members. Yet no matter how crass it was, he had a reason. Once they rounded up the Gold Cloaks who would be sent to the Watch for their crimes, they would be sending a ship up to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Prudency said if they were going to send two different groups up to the Night's Watch, it would be smarter and cheaper to send them all in one go. And given how much they were going to have to pay to rebuild the city, they needed to save all the money they could.
"There will be a ship leaving for the Night's Watch in a few days' time. Any of you who wish to take the black, tell one of the Gold Cloaks and they will take you to the Tower of the Hand, where you will be sheltered and fed until the boat leaves."
Five of the boys agreed to join the Watch then and there. Most likely, they were the ones who truly had no family left and saw no other options. The others might have siblings or some other non parental family member they would want to talk with first, if taking the black was something they were seriously thinking of. They had a decision to make and he would give them a few days to make it.
On the sixth day after the fire, Ned watched from the docks as the large merchant ship heading to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea set off with nineteen orphans and seventy-seven former Gold Cloaks. He had also given the ship crates of goods to bring to the Night's Watch as well, four of them filled with boots, cloaks, leather armor, socks, tunics, and underclothes, all of which had been dyed black. Each of the former Gold Cloaks had been allowed to bring their swords with them, though those would be kept separate in their own crate until they were sworn brothers of the Watch.
There were a handful of architects waiting for Ned in his solar that he had to meet with. He had some ideas on what he wanted to build in the now much larger area that needed to be rebuilt, and he was going to see if these architects could work his ideas into their plans.
However, there was something he needed to do first; he needed to take the head of Janos Slynt. Robert had offered the services of Ilyn Payne for the job, but Ned was a First Man, and for a First Man the one who passes the sentence should perform the execution, otherwise they become unfamiliar with death.
It was at a time like this that he wished he had Ice with him. Nothing cut quite as clean as Valyrian steel. He would have to make due with his steel greatsword and hoped for Janos Slynt's sake that it cut cleanly.
"Lord Stark! Lord Stark!"
The men who escorted him moved to surround him for protection, their silver armor gleaming in the sunlight, until they realized the person running at them was one of their own. The man Ned's children called Fat Tom came to a stop in front of him, huffing and puffing.
"Tomard, what brings you out to the docks."
"A letter from Lady Catelyn, m'lord," Tomard gasped out, holding out his hand.
Ned took the letter and indeed was able to recognize his wife's handwriting. He opened the letter and saw the news, his goodfather was sick and likely wouldn't make it. Cat was traveling to Riverrun to see her father, and she was bringing Arya and Rickon with her.
Riverrun was half the distance from King's Landing that Winterfell was. There was no way he could leave King's Landing now, but in six weeks time when his wife arrived at her ancestral home, who knew what the state of the city would be. Perhaps he could convince the King to let him make the trip. But that conversation would have to wait. First, he had to take a man's head.