The Black Cells.
Drip…
Drip…
Insanity is something Eddard never thought he'd be wary of, but here in the black cells with the wailing of the damned reaching his ears with a torturous ferocity. It's no wonder his mind is slowly fading.
Drip….
That along with the lack of food and water is causing his body to betray him. He can feel his feet and fingers slowly numbing as his circulation slows to his more vital organs.
Drip…
The lack of nutrition and sunlight only accelerates his malnourished state, he doesn't know how long he's been down here, his only reprieve is when Varys comes to speak to him, insisting he give his head for a lie.
Drip…
A bastard on the throne.
Drip…
He finds it morbidly ironic that Jon Snow, his bastard, the rightful heir to the throne is sentenced to the wall on his own doing, while the vile Waters sits on it.
Drip…
Was this his doing?
Drip…
God's, he wished he could have told the boy about his mother like he promised.
Drip…
Some Lord Paramount of the North he is.
Drip…
Starved and broken.
Drip…
His daughters are held hostage because he's a fool too trusting.
The lone wolf dies, while the pack survives
Drip…
Will his pack survive?
Dri-
Ned gets startled as a strange popping noise resonates eerily in the tunnel of his prison.
Looking in that direction Ned winces covering his eyes, feeling pathetic at the hiss he lets out as a bright light creeps from where the voice came from, listening in disbelief as a displeased voice meets his ear, "This place is fucking disgusting." The voice was eerily hiss-like in its angry tone.
Ned tenses as the footsteps creep closer.
He has to force himself to keep his eyes open when a soft white glow starts to creep closer; his disbelief is only further pushed when a stag made of pure light walks through the dreary cells.
Distantly he can hear those nearby let out what sounds like wails of relief, which eerily sound similar to their wails of despair.
Ned blinks as he feels his body sag as a euphoric feeling washes over his being.
"Have the gods taken me?" He mutters to himself.
Coughing and wincing as his chest rattles in protest from his speaking. The vast humidity in the cells makes it a festering ground for infections and sickness.
His throbbing leg reminds him of that.
Pulling himself off the sharp wall feeling his back scream in relief and pain as the battered-sore muscles pull and strain.
If he didn't know better he'd think Robert was manifesting before him, but the whoremonger could never look as elegant as the great glowing beast standing before him with antlers so big reaching far and wide almost touching the walls of the tunnel housing him.
It may be the insanity talking, but he's long passed a coherent thought to argue otherwise.
Before he can spiral out of control he hears a foreign word being spoken and then he knows no more.
"Easy", a hand gently pressed against his chest stopping him from raising the southern accent wrapping around Ned's ears as he becomes aware of his surroundings. A soft velvety accent that comes from the reach, the type that lulls you into a trance with the music-like quality in their tone.
Ned forces his eyes open, not wanting to be any more vulnerable than he already is, not that he could do anything in his current position.
"You are safe Lord Stark-" but before the unknown man can continue he hears the sound of his daughters yelling his name and then their weight crushing upon him.
"Father!" Arya cries.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. I thought they were good, P-prince Joffrey was so kind a-and-" he shushes Sansa curling his arms around her and Arya, his eyes filling with heat as he just takes in their presence and the fact that he's got them in his arms.
"No," he denies not wanting his beloved daughter to ever feel that she was at fault for the heinous actions the prince and his mother are capable of, "I shouldn't have given them the benefit of the doubt, they showed many times their true colors but I let my honor blind me." He speaks more to himself than his daughter.
"And you, my little wolf," he says, running a hand through Arya's short hair, her gray eyes wobbling as he meets them.
"Look even more like Lyanna with that haircut." He teases thinking of his sister, trying to lighten the mood as he runs his fingers through her short locks.
He also finds amusement at the thought of Catelyn's reaction when she sees the choppy hairdo.
'Gods', the thought alone…
The simple thought that he'll be able to see his wife after worrying for so long about the fate of his family.
The clearing of a throat makes him and his children turn to the young man who looks about Robb's age.
"I know this is a lot to handle," The boy starts awkwardly. His clothing is simple but Ned can see the fine tailored and expensively crafted seams. Ned only knows such details because he had sat in one lesson with Arya to make sure she did her lessons and unwittingly got entrapped in the intricacies of fabric craftsmanship.
"I take it you're the reason my family is safe for the moment?" He asks, looking at the younger man while trying to place his relation and region.
"Yeah! Father, you should have seen it. He tricked the guards into believing that we were simple servants and-!" Arya is interrupted by Sansa as she hisses that the grown-ups are talking, earning an amused look between him and the young man.
The man shifts on his feet giving his children an awkward smile, and an exaggerated bow "It's okay, It's only appropriate that I should introduce myself, Haedrian Tyrell, third son the paramount of the Reach at your service."
That explains the expensive garment and aristocratic features dripping off of the other.
Ned inclines his head in respect, both for his noble status and for the fact that he seems to have saved his family from a horrific fate, it's just what he wants in return-
"Did I hear you correctly?" he murmurs to himself, looking up in disbelief and at the boy in a new light as he searches along the boy's features like his sight alone could carve out the boy whom his brother holds so dear in his heart.
"Sirius," is all he manages to croak out his throat dry and his mind trying to comprehend that Sirius's Harry is in front of him.
The boy who has been tied to his family for so long, by the strange connection between the two. One he's not able to understand, but will support as long as the other doesn't prove to be a threat to his family.
Cue a sheepish smile as Haedrian says."Well, you see this was kind of a spur-of-the-moment situation and Sirius doesn't technically know that I stole you from their custody."
"I see," he says, feeling a headache coming along both from the trauma of current events and the swaying of the ship.
"Where are we heading?" He asks, peeking through his hair at the other.
Harry hums, looking out through the window of the cabin, "Well, at the moment we are heading towards Oldtown for a stop and allow you to recuperate because you're in no condition for us to be able to travel straight past the neck."
Harry gives him and his children, who are failing at pretending to be occupied, "Obviously you're not my prisoners and if you wish for me to take you straight to the nearest port in the north then I will, but I would prefer to stop at my grandfathers, who I know would allow you sanctuary purely because I ask."
He lets the boy squirm under his stare for a moment before smiling softly, "Relax son, the fact that Sirius vouches for you is enough. You've already proven yourself by saving my family when you had no reason to."
Haedrian shifts, "It was the right thing to do," he says shrugging.
Ned looks away, "Not many are willing to do the right thing, don't sell your short, especially in this dark world we live in."
"Is your aunt a Mad Witch like they say?" Arya asks Haedrian who looks startled for a second before laughing.
"Definitely, but I've always found the insane comforting." The boy says, an odd look passing over his face.
"Well then you'll love Arya," Sansa sniffs, threading a needle through the pale pink cloth made of silk that is just so soft in her hands. She can't believe Haedrian just gave her a whole roll of the silk to 'play with', as he said.
"Hey!" Arya snaps her own hands occupied by a dulled spring blade, the mechanism enthralling her as she plays with it making sure to keep her hand in her lap and out of her father's sight.
"It's true, I mean why would you want to be like a smelly boy anyway," Sansa retorts.
"Better than a stupid girl who snitches on people!" Arts snaps making Sansa wilt in guilt.
"Hey, stop that now girls!" Ned says sternly, "Sansa it's not your fault, and Arya isn't crazy for having different interests than you." He scolds them both.
"But!-"
"Petronus!" The strange word breaks through their impending argument and a flock of animals made up of starlight glints into existence cascading them all in a feeling of pure bliss.
"I think we should all take a deep breath," Haedrian says unconcerned by the multiple astonished gazes pinning him down.
While Sirius never shied away from his magic, he's never really produced anything so showy as this so it's a surprise to Ned who is in the know.
"What is this," Ned breathes feeling his muscles relax and his thoughts slow into a calm and euphoric state.
"Your grace," Cersei looks up only to scowl in irritation as a no-name servant interrupts their meal and addresses her son instead of her. It's always the one with cocks who get all the glory.
She knows she is the best of her father's brood. Tyrion is begrudgingly smart for his stature, but it's why he'll never be good enough in their father's eyes. Not even mentioning he's the reason mother is dead. And despite her fondness for her sweet Jaimie, her dear twin has what it takes to make the seven kingdoms thrive.
If only these foolish men weren't so hell-bent on a cock ruling them.
"What is it?" Joffrey asks looking over his glass while her other two children dutifully eat their food, she wishes Jaimie was here as well and not galavanting around for Tyrion of all people.
The servant seems to hesitate with cowardice, "Lady Sansa isn't in her quarters," she says the cheap cap on her head shifting as she bows in fear as Joffrey shifts in attention.
"Not in her room? Is the Northern cunt in the gardens wishing herself away from our generosity?" Her son sneers into his cup with a tone of pure mockery.
"I am not s-sure, Your Grace," Cersei almost throws her cup at the sniveling cunt out of pure annoyance.
Tired of her stuttering, Cersei daps her mouth and stands up making her son scowl as she undermines him, "Spit it out or I'll have your tongue cut for being useless, where is the girl?" She says her manicured fingers lifting the servant's gaze.
"W-we don't know, Your Grace. We searched the whole castle and she seems to be missing." The piglet wails desperately trying to gain favor from a lion.
"Your Grace!" One of the Kingsguards rushes in, "Eddard Stark isn't in the black cells!"
They are missing their only leverage against the North, both of their high-security prisoners are missing and they only just found out.
"How!" She says feeling her fingers itching for a glass of wine
"When did this all happen?" Joffrey pushes past her and tries to gain control as he is the king.
"I need to write to father," she says, feeling rage bubbling up as she imagines wrapping her hands around the assailant who made this whole situation so much worse.
They had all the cards to get those savages to bow down and accept their betters.
What happened?
A/n:
Been a minute ( ͡ ͜ʖ ͡)
Ned made it out alive! What will the consequences be for this.
What will happen now?
Anything you would want to see incorporated into the story if I can fit it in?