Robb Stark

The Northern Camp near Riverrun, 300AC

Praise was something that was not new to him at all. It was something he had gotten ever since he could remember, probably from the moment he had been pulled from his mother. It was always a celebratory event when someone high in succession was born. Despite this, Robb could say with certainty he hated praise. When he was growing up, all he ever heard was how he was a lot like his father. This kind, he did not mind in the slightest, being incredibly honoured to be compared to someone like Lord Eddard Stark. A man who had no choice but to fill his older brother's boots when the Mad King had them both executed.

His eyes trailed a little to the other male standing a little to the side alongside Arthur, the pair talking quietly with one another and throwing glances over their shoulders in case anyone overheard. A small pit of anger forming within because Arthur knew what had occurred but said or did nothing. He knew his anger wasn't placed correctly, but there was no one else he could possibly be angry over for not interfering. Jaeron and Arthur were distantly related through Queen Dyanna who had been wed to King Maekar. The same way he was distantly related to Ser Oswell Whent who had been struck down by his own father through his Whent grandmother.

He'd never known Minisa Tully, her dying not long after Edmure had been born. His mother opting not to talk about her often because she didn't like dwelling on the past. Something she shared with Eddard and possibly one of the first things they had in common with one another. Apart from these two Knight's, only two were still alive. One recently being dismissed from the Kingsguard by Joffrey Waters and the other in a cage on the outskirts of their camp. Robb's fingers tightened around the pommel of his sword. Whilst it wasn't Ice, it was still the finest steel one could get that wasn't Valyrian steel. Whilst it was expected of him to carry his family's sword, it was simply too large for regular battle. The only person who could perhaps carry it was Jon Umber. Not that they could get it as Ice was in the capital.

Everywhere he walked, someone was congratulating him on the victory. Out of courtesy, he dipped his head and accepted it, but on the inside he didn't care for it in the slightest. There was only one thing on his mind currently. He'd taken his first life in battle today. Ever since his father had left to go south more than a year ago, he'd had one beheading. Then, he had felt it was justified and it didn't haunt him much. An oath was an oath, and laws need to be followed. In the south, something may have been offered, but the North was different. They were raised with tradition and respect, something not many southerners were taught. The blood of the Kings of Winter flowed through his veins just as much as blood of Rivers did. Two areas separated by the swamplands of the Neck but two areas that had similar ideals.

Today though, the lives he had taken did not feel justified. He had lost count after the tenth, being far too caught up in keeping track of his whereabouts and keeping an eye on all sides of him. Dodging, parrying, jumping over the bodies of the fallen, and trying to ignore the lingering scent of blood, piss, and shit. He'd heard it from his own men that many died whilst relieving themselves, but he had thought it to be a rumour. Now, he knew it was one of the statements of truth that was common with Northerner's. How many people had he landed the final hit on with his sword had simply been ordered to fight and didn't want to? How many of them had families that were now missing a member? It was something that was going to weigh heavy on him, and this was only the first battle. Whilst it was a roaring victory, he couldn't deny that it didn't feel like it was one.

"What's on your mind?"

His eyes widened momentarily at the thick Dornish accent, spinning on his heel to be faced with Arthur and only noticing now he was in his own tent. Had he been so lost in his thoughts that he had completely blanked everything out on his way here? The flap had been closed much to his relief meaning he didn't need to worry about anyone overhearing.

"It's just, first battle. I don't know how I feel about it."

"The first is always the hardest. I remember my first battle well."

Curiosity peaked at this.

"Was that the one against the Smiling Knight in the Kingswood Brotherhood?"

The older smiled a little before nodding gently, confirming this was the case. For someone nearing his fiftieth name-day, it was clear his age didn't slow him down in any way. Muscles bulging and two swords at his hips. Whilst many people would not notice the one at his left due to the device covering it- much like the one Jaeron had for Dark Sister- he knew the legendary Dawn was encased within.

"Someone knows his history it seems."

A light blush coated his cheeks at the statement, moving to sit down on the numerous layers of fur blankets there was aligning the ground so he had somewhere comfortable to sleep on.

"Bran idolises you, it's difficult not to pick up on things when people don't shut up."

Now, a small laugh left the Knight. He'd probably heard it from Jaeron already, they seemed close if their back and forth in the room with Ser Brynden was anything to go by.

"You seem close with my brother."

It was clear now there was going to be a talk between the pair. The older sighing deeply before opening a pocket on his front and removing a flask, taking a long sip before passing it to the younger. The sour taste of the Dornish Red burning his throat and trying desperately not to cough.

"I don't know how you southerners can drink that stuff."

"I don't know how you Northerner's can drink black ale like it's water. To answer your question, I am close with your cousin. I'm fully aware you still consider one another brothers but there's a distinct difference. That's what I was talking to him about outside. He'll deny and you can deny it all you want, but Jon Snow is your brother. Jaeron Targaryen is your cousin. He's not the same boy who left Winterfell a year ago. He reminds me a lot of his father actually, and not just in looks."

Robb's eyebrows furrowed as he turned to the Knight who was now sitting down and staring him directly in the eye. That eye colour being so unique but so different to what he knew already. Jaeron's were a bright purple, almost the colour of thistles. But Arthur's were darker, more of a deep violet shade. Almost akin to the colour of a clematis flower. That was his mother's favourite flower, the glass gardens surrounding Winterfell proving this as there was one solely for those and for the blue winter roses. No one really knew where the Dayne's originally came from, only that they had been around for almost the same amount of length that the Stark line had. If the legends were true, they had fought side by side in the Age of Heroes.

"You knew Rhaegar well, didn't you? What was he like? Obviously, we were kept in the dark but I'd like to know what my uncle by marriage was really like and not what he is portrayed as."

The silence that followed was awkward, but he saw the way the Knight's expression fell for a moment before composing himself.

"Rhaegar was an enigma, even to those he was closest to. No one ever really knew what was going through his head, he was a master at keeping how he felt to himself. Something he shared with Queen Rhaella. Most often he either had his nose buried in a book, sparring, or standing by a window brooding. Two of which I'd imagine will sound familiar to yourself."

They certainly did. Jaeron loved to spar, and he definitely brooded more than most.

"He was like a little brother to me in a sense. I was the youngest in the Kingsguard, the others considerably older. I was inducted on my twenty second name-day, he was fifteen at the time, just about to become a man grown actually. He didn't trust anyone in the capital, didn't have any friends. He let out everything he was experiencing with his sparring or simply staring out over the water from either Dragonstone or the Red Keep. I remember the first time he spilled a secret to me, one where he had walked by his father's quarters and heard what was happening to his mother. Rhaella kept a lot of it from him, but that one time he heard. I didn't think it was possible for someone to get that angry."

A lump was forming in his throat. Stories got out, but stories are just that. It was difficult to discern from truth, half-truths, and straight lies. The most disturbing rumours he heard he didn't even want to think about they were so barbaric. Whilst Aerys and Rhaella were husband and wife, they were siblings first and foremost, and siblings should not do those things to one another.

"What did he overhear?"

Arthur's lips tightened, eyes gazing to the ground and seeing his cheek indent a little confirming he was chewing on the soft flesh within.

"You of all people will know Aerys had a fascination with fire. I wasn't there when your grandfather was burned alive and your uncle strangled himself trying to save him, I was with Rhaegar and Lyanna at the time. But the few times where a sleeve fell down, you could see the burn marks on her fair skin."

It was only now he felt a sharp pain on his tongue, realising he was biting hard into it as the older explained everything in detail. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Queen Rhaella suffered at the hands of her brother, but now knowing that he burned her just because he could- that did not sit right with him. Family are meant to protect one another no matter what, not torture one another.

"Why did you never interfere?"

Arthur stood up and walked to the flap of the tent, confirming he was leaving to do something. Robb having a funny feeling it had to do with their prisoner. They had history together, a lot of it. The battle Arthur spoke of was apparently the one where he had Knighted Ser Jaime afterwards. A part of him wanted to be a fly within the trees to watch what was about to be discussed between the two of them, but he knew he couldn't do so. He had a battle to plan, and Jaeron was likely speaking to his mother on how to get Hoster backing his claim.

"There was a saying Ser Gerold used to say often. I didn't agree with it, and neither did a specific Lannister, but he was our commander. You know what happens if an order from a commander is refused. The Kingsguard is to protect the royal family, but not to protect them from one another."

With that, the Knight walked out and leaving him alone. Those words spinning in his head which completely tore everything he had been brought up believing to be true. How many more things did he believe to be true were going to be ripped from underneath his feet? Shaking his head, he walked over to the flap himself in search of Ser Brynden to discuss their next port of call. Whilst they had been breaking the siege, they had picked up where the rest of the army was based. Three separate camps aligning the border of the Riverlands and the Westerland's. If they were successful, they could open up said area.

Arthur Dayne

The Northern Camp near Riverrrun, 300AC

It was bitingly cold tonight, this combined with the storm clouds above which were likely to break and leak their contents. He had spent years living in the Vale under the alias of Daemien Sand, had gotten used to weather as such. But as time went on, he realised he missed his homeland, but an oath was an oath. Dorne was his home, but it wasn't anymore. Right now, his home was wherever his King was going to take him. Arthur had pulled his cloak over his head just in case it did start raining, not wanting to chance the paste being washed from his hair and revealing his own identity. There is a specific plan to it all.

First, they had to get Lord Hoster in on it, and he knew this was going to be tricky. Having Lady Catelyn on their side was a massive boon, but he knew the Lord of Riverrun well. Whilst it had been nearing twenty years since he had last lay his eyes on the man, he remembered his stubbornness well. Second, they had to have him pledge to their cause. If the first is successful, the second shouldn't be too difficult so that one didn't worry him much. Third, the claim had to officially be made. He couldn't deny his heart was beating fast in nerves for Jaeron and how people would react. Whilst there had been many a great Targaryen, there has also been many that were awful. Northerner's were just as stubborn as the Dornish- possibly even more so. He knew deep in his bones that they would not take to it well. Their best hope was to gamble on their hatred of the Lannister's outweighing their hatred of House Targaryen. And lastly, he was revealing himself.

If either one of these steps went wrong, it was game over before it had even begun. His boots were sinking in to the mud, hearing a disgusting sucking noise with every step he took. Keeping his head low just in case someone recognised his face. It wasn't likely because not many Northerner's knew what he looked like, but it was too risky to do anything else yet. The Crannogmen were spreading it around that he was kin to Princess Saera. A name that had seemingly disappeared after she had ran away to Essos to avoid punishment for breaking numerous protocols expected of a royal.

It was something Rhaegar done often. Not that anyone knew that of course. Remembering the many times where he had gone to him or Barristan with his silver locks dyed with tea which would fade come morning with his harp so he could play to the smallfolk. That was one thing that set him apart from his youngest son, Jaeron was diabolical with anything to do with musicianship. Jyana had tried to have him learn the bells or the harp, but at best he was passable. Eventually giving up on this and helping out whenever she could. She wasn't like her husband with sharpness, but she did come up with some brilliant ideas on occasion. He'd yet to set his eyes on Aurane again since he was here, the man likely mingling with the people and playing up the ruse that he was here to discuss trade.

That would be something else that needed to be addressed. What that damnable pact being fulfilled meant. He hadn't voiced it aloud yet to anyone, but he could see trouble brewing with it. His own people took pride in the fact they were a Principality, many would take massive insult that they technically aren't the only one. The last thing they need is a further slight to Doran. Even now, anger bubbled up in him at Jaeron's decision to threaten both he and Oberyn with the dragons. Every major House had a saying. The Stark's had the lone wolf dies and pack survives. The Tully's had their own House words. The Lannister's had don't pull the lions tail. And the Martell's had the vipers poison is the last thing seen. Currently, they had sworn neutrality, but something would need to be done. If they remain neutral and they win, it could be seen as another act of rebellion. Two wars back to back was something that was not needed.

His breath was coming out haggard, white clouds following him confirming just how cold it was. Whilst he had gotten used to it after spending so long much farther North, it still got to him on occasion. By now, most people had disappeared and leaving him as he walked to the treeline and the cage up ahead. Hands tightening around his swords and desperately trying to prevent himself from breaking out in a sweat. A small grin coming onto his face at the move the Young Wolf had made. Whilst he had lost a large portion of his forces doing so, he had gotten them a good start in the wars to come. The closer he got, the clearer the face got.

The last time he had seen Jaime Lannister was just before he had left with Rhaegar to meet Lyanna. Then, he was still a green boy who had a constant air of arrogance around him. It was something Arthur hated, but he couldn't deny that he was incredibly skilled, and he only took the most skilled as his squires. Hair shining like molten gold in the dim moonlight and armour which depicted his stature. Only a handful of scratches adorning the polished steel that he couldn't make out if it was just a few hits or if it was new armour. Knowing his wealth, it was likely the second option. Lannister's were known to flaunt their wealth, something which angered the Tyrell's greatly. Coming to a stop beside the cage and staring down at him. It felt like hours had passed before he finally lifted his head.

"I'm guessing you are first watch then?"

The words had that same cocky tone that he remembered, having to remember he wasn't that same man who rode off with his Prince in search of the She Wolf. There was a horrid stench coming from the cage, noticing discarded breeches which had a noticeable shit stain on them. Gods, what happened here? He'd been captured a matter of hours before so this likely happened not long ago. Staring into the trees and seeing a single glint of purple which confirmed what had happened. He was going to need to speak to Jaeron soon, he couldn't go around threatening people with Rhaegon and Lyrax to have people bend to him. Many of his ancestors chose that path and they had paid dearly for it.

"I'd have thought I'd have gotten a warmer welcome. It has been eighteen years after all."

Looking around him to see if anyone was watching. Only when he was certain no one was did he remove his hood and stare the other directly in the eye. Emerald eyes widening in recognition.

"You're supposed to be dead-"

"It seems ghosts are everywhere these days."

The younger tightened his lips before retorting;

"So Rhaegar's youngest come to haunt me, and now the Sword of the Morning. At this rate Queen Rhaella will appear alongside Aegon and Rhaenys-"

"Don't you dare talk about Aegon and Rhaenys."

Hands tightening around his swords again, anger boiling deep within like a flame on oil. Many people believed that they got along great with one another as he had taken him to squire. But at best, he tolerated the younger. Over the years this had changed to complete hatred with every passing story that came out. Of how he had killed Aerys' Hand before running the King through from behind. Not doing anything when his father sent the Mountain and Amory Lorch after Aegon and Rhaenys and butchering them in cold blood. Not interfering when Gregor reportedly raped Elia with Aegon's blood still coating his body before splitting her in half. Not to mention how he was cuckolding the current King. At least one of his brothers had gotten out of it, knowing he would need to speak to Jaeron about this as well. With Barristan being free of his oaths again, it opened that section up.

"You don't have any reason to hate me for it, you were off galivanting with Rhaegar-"

"I was given orders to protect his wife and unborn babe. An order which I upheld. You were given orders to protect those in the Red Keep. An order that you failed at. Don't try and turn this around to benefit yourself, Jaime. I've known you since you were fourteen. You were a sore spot and you have trampled on our order with your actions."

"Like you know the reasoning for it."

The youngers lips were curling around his teeth now. Whether that was to try and stop himself from saying anything or if he was doing so to hide the fact he was nervous, Arthur could not tell with certainty. Perhaps if they had not been separated from one another for so long he would be able to tell the difference. But alas, they had been, and this man in front of him was nought but a familiar stranger. He hadn't changed much look wise, just with more stubble than he remembered and considerably more muscle than he'd had when he was seventeen. Other than that, it was like he was transported back in time to when he was his squire and prior to him Knighting him.

"What reason could you have had for killing the King?"

Jaime huffed at this, as if he were amazed such a question was being asked.

"I think you of all people would know Ser Arthur, you saw the scars as much as I had. Either way King Scab was dead, I just sped it up."

"We are meant to protect the royal family-"

"But not from one another, you don't need to remind me. Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold drummed it into me enough it's wedged in my brain. But I wasn't the only one who was against it. You remember Prince Lewyn's anger when he saw the scars for the first time."

He'd gotten him there, as much as he hated to admit it. Lewyn had been furious when he had saw them. It was only when Elia had pulled him aside where he finally backed off. What would he think had he survived the battle of the Trident? Would he join their side to get justice for Elia or would he sit out of it for sheer spite? Arthur hated he had no answer to that question. At least it was a question that would never be answered, so there was no use dwelling on it.

"You didn't see Aerys on that last day. I did try but when my father stormed the capital he really snapped. Do you want to know what his final command of me was? To bring him my father's head."

A sharp intake of breath broke the silence, and he wasn't sure who it was that had done so. That was the first time he had ever heard of such a thing. A Kingsguard is meant to swear themselves off family and commit themselves fully to the order. But blood trumps oaths on occasion. And if what he spoke was true and judging from the expression on his face, it was, then he somewhat understood the man's reasoning.

"Either way me or Aerys was dead. If I refused the command, I'd have been executed. What would my father have done if his golden son was killed?"

Much worse than what had happened. Remembering the words he had spoken to Jaeron not long before. Don't pull the lions tail. Tywin was already heavily slighted when it came out that Aerys and Joanna had apparently been laying together, this amplified by removing his heir from him and forcing him to name the deformed son as such, and finally removing him from office. Three slights made him sack the city and send men to kill two babes and their mother solely because of their name and nothing else. A fourth slight and he might hav just razed the city to the ground in his fury.

"He looks like him, the child."

"Aye, he does. Has the length of his mothers face and her hair colouring though."

Not much else could be said after this, he could already feel the stares of people on his back. He couldn't let it out yet. It is going to be out in a matter of days now. They are one hill away from Riverrun. With the thought in mind, Arthur turned on his heel to find Lady Catelyn to see what her plan was in getting her father in on it. Pulling his hood over his head to prevent the rain which was now falling washing off the paste in his hair in the process. He could feel eyes on him even more now that he was aware of it, but many of those he caught looked elsewhere a moment later. It didn't take long to find Catelyn, her speaking to her uncle and a younger female which judging by the sigil stitched across her chest, was a Mormont. He wasn't well versed on the House's in the North, cursing himself silently for that now, it would certainly come in useful.

"My Lady, may we speak?"

She played her part well by temporarily screwing her face up before dismissing the woman which left them alone, both her and Brynden leading him to a tent.

"What would you like to discuss, Ser?"

The act was dropped almost as quick as it had been put on. She'd have done well in the capital, but he wasn't going to say this aloud to her. She's acclimated well to the North and its ways but he knew she still thought of herself as a southerner no matter how much of a Northerner she acts.

"What is the plan with your father? And when are you going to speak to him?"

Unlike her son, she took the flagon he offered to her as a form of guest right and didn't screw her face up n disgust. She'd have been used to it much like he was, Brynden taking a timid sip as well.

"I'm going to be riding down with Robb and Jaeron at dawn. That way there won't be many people up and about at the castle so there won't be as many prying ears. I've sent a rider ahead to confirm this already. My father has likely already received this and will be preparing. He doesn't know Jaeron is coming, he thinks it is just me and Robb before you ask."

"How do you think he'll react? It's not something small we're bringing him in on here. This secret he may take as the reason why he had to settle for a second son. No offense intended, my Lady, but everyone knows you were promised to Brandon and only wed Eddard out of duty."

"At first it was out of duty, but I've come to love my husband dearly. Whilst I was content with Brandon, I know now he wouldn't have made me happy. We might've been family had it not happened, either way our paths were entangling no matter what happened."

He nodded a little in confirmation. He'd heard the rumours and the talks himself even though nothing had been finalised. His father and his brother had discussed possibly betrothing his sister to Eddard. Ashara found the idea preposterous, but it never came to fruition as his own father died not long after then he received the raven that his sister had thrown herself from Palestone tower not long after birthing Allyria. He remembered when he had received the raven from Wylla confirming it was time to tell her the truth, it being a few years ago. Surprisingly, she had taken it well, and had stated she would always see him as her older brother and not as her uncle. She was all that remained of his sister.

"You were lucky then, my Lady. Not many people in Westeros have both a love match and a political match."

"Nay, we certainly don't. If you were looking for Jaeron, I last saw him with Robb and a couple of the other Lord's."

If he didn't know any better, he would've thought Catelyn had the ability to read a persons mind. Taking his leave in search of his King.

Jaeron Targaryen

The Northern Camp near Riverrun, 300AC

He twisted on his feet as the sword came flying towards him, ducking underneath and thrusting another directly to his brothers middle. Why Robb had decided to challenge him in front of everyone, he had no idea, but he wasn't going to pass up on a chance to be the boys who regularly sparred in Winterfell. A lot of people had turned up to watch the fight, some cheering Robb and others cheering him. If he wasn't hearing things, he was sure someone had shouted to make his Lordly arse eat dirt. A massive smile was on his face the whole time, keeping an eye on his surroundings so he didn't crash into anything because that would just be embarrassing.

Robb had his sword in his right hand and his left was tucked behind his back. Jaeron on the other hand, was wielding two swords. One he had borrowed off of someone when Robb began gloating how he wanted to challenge the dual sword fighter because he didn't want to bring out Dark Sister just yet, and Longclaw in his other. It was a little awkward after his talk with Catelyn not long ago as Dacey Mormont had walked over to pull her away, recognising the sword immediately. Jeor had stated that neither of them wanted to wield the Valyrian steel sword that had been in their family for who knows how long, and it didn't sit right with him to be carrying around an heirloom of their House when there were members of said House around.

Ducking low as Robb aimed a swing that if this were a real fight, would've removed his head had he not stepped out of the way. Looking frantically for an opening and keeping an eye on the terrain to see if he could use it to his advantage. But then he realised something. Right now, he was still Eddard Stark's bastard, meaning it was expected of him not to win. Therefore, he acquiesced and allowed Robb to disarm him of one of his swords. If he couldn't beat him for propriety, he could draw with him. Stepping up his speed which startled the older but he grinned widely and blocked all blows he was raining down on him. It was only when he heard a shout that he snapped his head around, Robb taking the opportunity and placing his sword against his throat to signify an end to their duel.

"Nice, take me out when distracted."

"Best way to catch a man out."

Jaeron smiled before heading over to Arthur who was giving him a stern glare, nerves eating him up over what may have caused such an expression on the mans face.

"What is it, Leron?"

A few people were looking back and forth between the pair, but he paid them no mind. Making his way over to his own tent so they were in solitude.

"I've just spoken to him."

Understanding dawned on him at this, that explained his facial expression. Before his spar with Robb, the older had mentioned he thought this is what was going to happen, but hearing it spoken aloud made it sink in for him.

"And?"

Arthur bit his lip hard and looked to the ground for a moment, obviously trying not to look him directly in the eye.

"He told me what Aerys' final order was."

Eyebrows furrowed at this, remembering how he had said something regarding an order to him but did not elaborate on it. No words needed to be spoken for him to ask the question. When the words fell from the Knight's lips, to say he was stunned was an understatement. A feeling of disgust coiling deep within at what had apparently been asked of the Lannister. A choice, one that no matter what would've had horrible consequences. Either refuse the order which he had done and be known as an oath breaker or carry out the order and forever be known as a kinslayer. Whilst he wasn't completely knowledgeable on southern politics yet, even he knew that kinslaying was seen as just as barbaric as it was to Northerner's.

"Also, you need to try and keep your anger in check. You should not have threatened him."

How did he know? Cursing silently under his breath before trying to walk away but Arthur stepped in front of the entrance so he had no choice but to remain. Yes, he could've ordered him and he would've been duty bound to obey but doing so did not sit right with him at all.

"Technically I just commanded them to show themselves, nothing more-"

"A threat is still a threat. You need to learn from the past. Many of your ancestors used their dragons to do so or to get people to bend to them-"

"Don't compare me to-"

"I'm not comparing you, Jaeron. I'm simply stating you are using a similar tactic. It's already failed you with threatening both Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn which will make any future alliance with Dorne difficult. You cannot use them like that without it possibly backfiring in your face down the line somewhere. I know you're not like that, and your family know you're not like that, but it does look like it. If you're going to make the claim in a matter of days, you'll need to show yourself as being someone better than those before you."

He opened his mouth about to retort but closed it after a moment as the words sank in for him. Scowling a little at Arthur because once again he had gotten him quiet on his actions. As much as he hated it, it did make sense.

"I can't keep them hidden forever-"

"Then don't. You've already bonded with Rhaegon and have claimed him as a mount. But use them sparingly and not like you have been currently. All it takes is for one person to get a bad impression before it spirals out of control."

The younger nodded before leaving the tent again, spotting the sun beginning to rise on the horizon. Gulping hard before searching for his aunt and brother to prepare for the talk with Hoster Tully.

Eddard Stark

Kings Landing, 300AC

His hair was stuck to his face, a horrid oily build up and creating a nasty scent. This combined with the constant stink of shit in the city was almost unbearable. The cell he was in was a small one, but he was glad it seemed to be clean. Some they had passed were covered in sewage and had rotten food or were infested with rats and who knows what else. He'd lost count of how many days it had been a long time ago, taking the time to think everything through and what had happened.

Don't do anything stupid.

Words Jon had spoken to him before he had left Winterfell the year prior. Cursing silently to himself for breaking that promise. What made him accuse Cersei of cuckolding Robert in front of the entire court? Walking in with a sign saying 'I am a traitor' would've done the same thing. Of course, Tywin Lannister's daughter would not take a slight as such, and the time he had spent around Joffrey confirmed he would not take the slight either. It wasn't even a slight, it was a direct refusal to bend the knee which usually had people executed on the spot. Eddard counted himself lucky he had been placed in one of the black cells underneath the castle.

Thoughts were spinning around, knowing that his brother had endured being in one of these for weeks whilst his father rode to plea for his release. Screams echoing in his ears as he imagined what was going through his head. Brandon was always hot headed, hence being called the Wild Wolf. Benjen was the Pup, he the Quiet Wolf, and Lya had been the She Wolf. Names as such ran in the family, but over the last couple of generations it had become so much more. His brother had done something stupid by confronting Aerys, and he had done something equally as stupid by confronting Cersei over the parentage of her children. At the time, he had thought he was helping Jon and holding to Robert's oath, but now he knew he had just been naïve. And now, he was paying for it.

This would cause Robb to rally the banners. Doing the same thing he had done at the same age so long ago. Having to step fully into a leadership role with no previous battle experience beforehand. Having to get used to people following him no matter what as they were all sworn vassals of his House. And this didn't even take Jon into consideration. He'd been adamant he wanted nothing to do with the throne, but now he had time to himself where he could think of everyone's movements, it seemed his nephew was preparing to do just that. And with there being no Baratheon heirs other than Stannis and Renly, it was up for the taking. Nerves eating away at the flesh like gnats on a warm and wet day.

He remembered the day where he found out he had fought a war over a lie. When he had landed the final hit on Ser Arthur and running up the stairs to the top of the tower. To finding Lyanna in a bed covered in roses and blood, voice shaky and crying hard as she knew she did not have long left in the world. To her making him promise to protect Jon because Robert would kill him if he found out to Wylla pulling him aside to explain everything that did happen and how it had come to this. There were few times where he felt disgusted, but that had been one of them. His father and brothers death being another, and the butchering of Aegon and Rhaenys also being so.

Robert had been a terrible King. He knew that now, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The crown was massively in debt, there was now a succession struggle, Tywin had gotten his claws in to take back some of the power he had lost when he had been removed from office so long before. At least he had gotten a step ahead by sending communication to some people of his findings if the ravens weren't shot down or were attacked by a hawk of some kind. Soft footsteps echoed in the corridor and it wasn't long until a flash of gold caught his attention. Pure hatred surging through him as the beautiful face of the Queen came into view.

"What a pity this is, Eddard Stark a prisoner. Clearly you Stark's are all equally as bad as one another. You know, I enquired those who were alive when your brother was locked away for daring to threaten the King. Clearly, you're more like your brother than you thought you were."

Her tone was sickly sweet, like she were singing one of the songs Sansa loved so much. Had they gotten out? He hoped they had, but he'd never gotten the chance to ask.

"My brother was imprisoned for demanding my sisters release. Your son had me imprisoned for stating a truth. There is a big difference here."

Emerald flashed like poison for a split second before taking on a bored expression.

"Your trial is in a matter of hours, Lord Stark. You will be escorted out and will be cleaned before being taken to the Sept of Baelor. There, you will proclaim Joffrey as King and you can go to the Wall."

"Do you think my life is some precious thing to me? That I would trade my honour to spend my life rotting at the edge of the world?"

"I expect you to do so to prevent carnage. You are well aware of what happened the last time someone attempted to take down my family."

And there was the threat. Nothing needed to be said to this, because she was right as loathe as he was to admit it. Everyone knew what happened the last time someone slighted the Lannister's. Closing his eyes as he thought it all through.

"My son would never proclaim fealty to your bastard-"

"You dare spread such lies-"

"He is though. Did you think I was stupid to not piece together why Jon Arryn was murdered and why Stannis fled not long after? Of how all of Robert's children have black hair and blue eyes as has every Baratheon in the line alongside dozens of House Durrandon before being made extinct by the conqueror? I'd guess I'm not the only one who knows, your Grace, I just had the courage to call you out on it."

She laughed a little, a sweet laugh. Clearly finding his anger amusing.

"They do say the winners write history for decades to come. I don't think your daughters will be pleased with your refusal. Ser Meryn, see to it that Lord Stark is given adequate sanctuary before the trial."

Ned opened his mouth to retort, panic setting deep within at her final words. But this was of no use as with a flash of Lannister red, the Queen was gone and he was being yanked up by the Knight in question and being escorted out of the dungeons. He was taken to a small room where there was a fresh set of clothes alongside some food. Not even daring to go near it as he wholly expected for there to be poison laced within. He meant what he said, his life wasn't something precious to him. He'd rather die for what was right then live a lie. But hadn't he been doing so for the past seventeen years? He had kept a legitimate male Targaryen under his roof the entire time, constantly living in fear that it would be discovered and his House would be made extinct as a result.

The room he was brought to left a lot to be desired. The bed itself being made of solid wood with nothing of comfort- likely a servants quarters or for a prisoner or hostage at best. If what she spoke was true and the girls hadn't gotten out, by him confronting her he had signed their deaths immediately. If they had gotten out, why was Cersei lying about it? She couldn't gain anything from her actions, she already had the highest position in the Kingdom for a woman and would until Joffrey got married where she would become Queen Mother and not the Queen. Still a lucrative position to hold, one many would kill dozens to be in. One thing was for certain, he was not going to proclaim Joffrey as the King, but he also didn't want to announce it because it would lead to his family dying. So what could he do?

Pulling on the clothes he was given and running the water over his hair to remove the dirt from it. Taking the cotton shirt he had been wearing and squeezing the water out to make sure it was somewhat dry. If he were going by line of succession, the logical thing for him to do would be to say Stannis. Perhaps he could put it as a regency- no, that would not work. Robert had named him as regent and the Queen had simply torn the order to pieces so there would be no contention to it. Leaving one option, but it went against his very nature. Eddard hated war, and he hated death just as much. But right now, he had no other option.

If he were to confirm the truth, it puts the Lannister's down a peg whilst not delegitimising the royal children. Whilst it would anger many, it wouldn't be as catastrophic. Letting out a deep breath and mulling it over until he heard a knocking on the door. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were outside, each taking an arm and marching him outside the Keep and through the streets to the Sept of Baelor. His lips were chapped, licking gently to add some moisture and keeping his eyes on the ground so as to not look anyone in the face. He could hear the insults being thrown at him from the passers by who didn't know any better. Feeling things being thrown at him too.

He felt the stairs before he saw them, almost tripping were it not for the two who were escorting him. Counting as he went to try and take his mind off of what he was about to do and what would happen as a result. He felt himself being pushed to his knees before finally daring to look up. Fear entered him in a way he had never felt before, thousands of people watching the spectacle. He could see the glinting of the crystal crown of the High Septon, and he could see Joffrey and Cersei stood to the side alongside other members of the Kingsguard. But there was one notable person not here. Where was Ser Barristan? He had no time to think as he caught sight of bright red hair to the side.

Please no.

He gulped before turning to the side. Pale skin and dark eyes staring back at him. Except, there was something off. Instead of a thin and small face, this face was round and small. The eyes weren't Tully blue, being more akin to steel. Freckles adorning her face and as he looked closer he spotted a couple of small streaks of dark brown. Relief washed through him like a wave hitting against the shore but this was short lived as he finally recognised the face. Alarm beginning to set in for him. Why were they trying to pass Jeyne off as Sansa? Where was Vayon? In fact, he couldn't see anyone he had brought south with him, and that did not sit well with him in the slightest.

Joffrey was wearing his crown, as was Cersei. Both wearing a mixture of Lannister red and gold. The pale cream of the bricks underneath his feet taking his attention again. How many people had died on these very stairs? Two guards stepped forward now and tied his hands behind his back in case he tried to escape. Like he would get out of this. Cersei had promised to have him sent to the Wall, but the glint in the King's eyes said differently.

"Lord Eddard Stark, you are charged with treason to overthrow my rule and to seize the throne for yourself. How do you plead?"

Yells began leaving those who were watching. So this was how they were playing it off. Scrambling the words in his brain before speaking.

"I am Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men., I betrayed the faith of my King and the truth of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children. But before his blood was cold, I plotted to refuse the rule of Joffrey Baratheon. But I did not do so to seize the throne for myself."

This was it. He was about to reveal his darkest secret. A dangerous secret which in hours was going to rip the Kingdom's apart. He spotted Joffrey glaring at him for not confessing to what he wanted, but Cersei was simply staring at him with tightened lips.

"It is true, I did betray my King. But not by usurping his rule."

Confused murmurs began echoing now, almost creating a buzzing noise from how many people there were. Those who were surrounding him were looking to one another quizzically as this was opposite of what they had been told. For a split second, he spotted the Queen shuffle awkwardly before taking on her regal pose and looking like she were a statue.

"Seventeen years ago I walked into this city to find the Mad King dead at the hands of Ser Jaime Lannister. I watched as the bodies of Princess Elia, Prince Aegon, and Princess Rhaenys were displayed. Children should not be punished for the sins of their father, but in their case, their father did not commit the atrocities people believe he did."

This done it. People began yelling again and he could see Cersei making signalling motions as if to bound and gag him so he did not speak any more words. He had to speak quickly, and he had to do so now.

"It is true I was with my sister when she passed from this world, but I was also with her when she made me promise to keep her newborn son safe. Her legitimate son because unknowingly Princess Elia and Prince Rhaegar had their marriage annulled and he wed my sister. I kept my oath but in doing so I had to commit the highest of treasons. I unknowingly helped in the death of my goodbrother alongside his children, but I knowingly raised his last son-"

"Gag him!"

The words were frantic, and he allowed a small smile to come onto his face at the way those words were spoken. Clearly she had figured out exactly what he was insinuating and what it meant.

"I won't stand behind someone who is not yet of an age to not have a regent which the Queen is refusing for him. I will stand behind my nephew as he presses his claim-"

The words were cut off as he felt the cloth being shoved between his lips and promptly being tied behind his head so he could not get another word out.

"My mother wishes for me to sentence Lord Eddard to join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and power he would serve the realm in permanent exile. My Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father. But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head."

It was eerily quiet as those words were spoken. His heart hammering within like it were a drum. Out the corner of his eye, he could see a scuffle beginning to break out but he couldn't turn to see as he was forced to his knees and his head was bent forward. Then the screaming started, alongside the tell-tale sound of anguished cries. He knew who that was. Clearly Cersei had been bluffing by saying she had the girls. If they were going to the extent of making Jeyne look like Sansa, it meant she wasn't in the capital. It was difficult to tell if the same went for Arya, but if his dutiful child got out, his rebellious child almost certainly did. Then he heard Ser Ilyn unsheathe the sword and the light click of the blade on the stone steps.

"I hope you're ready Jon."

The next thing that came into focus was the way the man shuffled as he aimed. And then he heard the metal slicing through the air and making a loud whistling noise. And finally, the biting metal against the back of his neck.