A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been a while since my last update but just know that I'm between chapters is a TON of research going on. I want to make sure I get the world and characters of these two great universes right. That being said I'm doing a complete overhaul of chapters 1-9, not much will be changed plot wise as it will be mostly filler.

At the time of this chapter's publication, I will have revised the first three. With the rest being completed by the next chapter.

With that out of the way I bring you the newest chapter for the Lone Wolf.

Kings Landing

Tourney Grounds

Ned Stark

Taking a small sip from his mug of ale he carefully observed the match before him. Ser Jaime had just unseated Ser Barristan in a joust. Many onlookers happy with the outcome as coins were either collected or given away with a scowl.

Ned never liked tourneys; he'd much rather be back in the hands tower going through ledgers than this. Some good news came down from the North the past day. The extra coin earned from their newest export had allowed the construction of more glass houses for crops. The Stark words were always true in the end, winter is coming.

All of the North would need as much food as possible for it, as well as other kingdoms. Though if he couldn't get Robert to see he was drowning his own kingdom into debt the Iron Bank would come for its gold. One way or another, they always got their gold.

Then there was the issue of the Queen and Ser Jaime. The most recent report from Six is that since they'd arrived, Ser Jaime was the one who guarded the Queen during the night. Not that that was out of the ordinary, but what he heard next was.

The kingslayer would enter the queen's chambers only at the hour of the wolf. Then emerge exactly half an hour later, not much was different about the man when he returned. No scent of sexual intercourse, or any type of coupling of that sort. But, Six stated he'd had a familiar scent to him. One that was strikingly similar to what Queen Cersei uses on her person daily.

Ned scratched his chin at this, watching another round be concluded. Why would the Ser Jaime have the queen's perfume on him? The train of thoughts that came after were nothing short of possible treason.

Alas, there wasn't anything he could do with the information other than write it down for further uses. Six had explained that if he needed to. He could spy on the two directly from her room, he'd already memorized the layout of the royal wing and the rest he'd been exposed too.

Though it was a tempting thought, Ned couldn't see how the man wouldn't be caught. Which lead to them altering the original plan, but he had to admit. The Spartan, always managed to amaze him with his arsenal. Physical and Scientific. Oh, how he wished it would end.

Flashback

Ned could scarcely believe what he was being told, it was madness.

"The Queen and her brother?" Was all Ned was able to get out, in a hushed voice at that.

Six nodded his head once, "Yes, as vile and unexpected it may seem. It is a more plausible theory, but once I've collected more evidence, we will need to have a plan in place when the worst occurs."

Ned looked at him in shock, "A more plausible outcome? What you speak of would have anyone in the realm tried and beheaded. If not worse."

Six didn't look at all phased by it, "I know, but I have a plan to back it up." Ned stared at him quietly for a few seconds before nodding at him to continue.

"King Robert is known to have multiple women in his chambers at random times every day. Making a point to have Ser Jaime stationed outside so he may listen." Ned looked down at that, the man he grew up with was his brother in all but blood and name. But he couldn't look past the wrongdoings of him either.

When the bodies of the Targaryen family were laid to rest at King Roberts feet. Ned cried in outrage at the needless slaughter of children. A rift was forever sown in his heart after seeing Robert merely smile at the bodies and spit out his hatred for dragon spawn.

Ned looked back to the Spartan, "It pains me that Robert has become what he is. No matter my opinion on the Queen or her family. To dishonor his wife and queen in such a manner... it is unacceptable." He relented, gods how it sickened him.

Six took a small step forward before pressing on, "With the many women will undoubtedly come many bastard children of the king." When he received a look at that, Six explained. "Many of the whores, particularly those in Lord Baelish's employ are the ones that indulge the king. A large portion of them have come down with pregnancies in the years past. What I can't be sure of, is if they are all indeed King Roberts bastards or not. Which is why I've come to you; you can provide me with more insight."

Leaning back with a heavy groan, the lord of Winterfell rubbed a hand across his face. Damn this cesspool of a capital. Thinking on what was just relayed to him, he racked his brains for possible ideas. Then it came to him, abruptly he leaned forward. "I assume you've met Lord Renly Baratheon?"

Six said nothing and only nodded in response.

"Good, now. Renly is the spitting image of Robert when he was that young. It is a common Baratheon trait that they are physically stronger than most. The ferocity they possess in battle is not to be trifled with. Hence the words of their house, 'Ours is the Fury'."

"So, I'm looking for black hair, blue eyed children or teenagers. That possess the unique strength or physical traits of the king. Ones that look identical to him or his brother." Six summarized. At the lack of response, he assumed he hit the nail on the head. Alright, if that's all he had to go on, then he could work with it.

"I'll have to be gone from the Red Keep for this, it would take too long to search each and every house in a city with half a million only at night and come back." Six explained, and Ned couldn't find himself to disagree.

"I agree, however, you run the risk of being recognized by any of the small councils' spies." Ned responded.

Six to his credit didn't seem to falter at that, "I'll be in my armor; besides our men and your family no one knows what it looks like. It gives me the advantage, and the means to collect the necessary information. With my armor, I can use it to take photographs." At this word, Lord Stark raised an eyebrow.

Six saw his confusion and explained further, "To make it understandable for you. In the blink of an eye, or in my case a tap on the wrist. I can make a painting instantly, here I'll show you."

Six pulled his wrist up and began scrolling through the contents on his TACPAD before finding it. Walking silently to Neds side, an image already displayed. Neds eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen and once they did. He held in a gasp.

It was a picture of Six and his team, the only one they had taken together before they stepped off for his mission with the team. Everyone had their helmets off except for Six and Emile, at the time he hadn't trusted them enough. Only going with the recommendation of his new commander. Carter was an exceptional leader and combat specialist, along with a small sentimental part he shared with Jorge. Though the Spartan commander wouldn't ever admit it in the open.

To Carter, the picture symbolized the completion and restoration of Noble Team to its full strength.

To Six, it was an uncomfortable and at the time seemingly unnecessary action in the middle of a war. Albeit the covenant hadn't been discovered on the planet yet, but still. He was witness to some truly great friendships, brotherhoods, and leaders.

All of them died in the war.

Ned was again, stumped for words at what he was seeing. Six had told him about his fellow Spartans, but Ned had only ever heard of them in tales. Never a painting or in this case a photograph. Bringing himself back to the moment Six revealed to him where he hailed. He had to remind himself, the equipment and advancements in weaponry that the Spartan and his people possessed far exceeded anything in his known world.

Shifting his gaze to one of the Spartans with what looked to be a skull scratched onto the exterior of the helmet visor. Then just to the right of it, was an oddly familiar knife that he'd see Six carry with him. Ahh, so it was a memento of a fallen friend. He'd think no more on it, some soldiers didn't need words to understand.

Once he'd taken it in, he shifted his gaze back to Six. Who in turn, shut his TACPAD off. "With this, I can keep track of what one's I've checked and the ones I haven't. With this city's population, I'll start working immediately. There is also the amount of time that has passed since King Roberts coronation. Who knows the possible dozens of bastards he's sired?" Six gave a small shrug at the last remark.

Ned regards that silently; it was true that the number of bastards accumulated in the span of seventeen years was drastically large. At the pace of King Robert and his seemingly unquenchable thirst for whores, it only made things harder.

With no other way forward at the moment, he pulled a fresh piece of parchment out and began writing on it. Curious at the unforeseen action, Six came closer and decided he would have a seat. The lack of his armor helped to not crash through the expensive furniture.

Once Ned read and re-read the letter, he folded it and silently poured the wax on it before sealing it with the hands stamp. "This will help you get through the streets of kings landing without trouble. Should you ever be stopped by the city watch or a Lannister guard. Show them this. It shows you are permitted access to all establishments." Handing the paper to the Spartan he wordlessly took it, giving it a brief look before putting it way in a pocket in his jerkin.

"I appreciate it, Ned. Though I highly doubt it will be used, but better to have it and not need it than to not have it and need it." Six said to him. Ned agreed with that, it was more of a fail safe than anything. Should any of the city watch question six about his activities. The sealed hand on the scroll would do more than quell it.

Ned stood to his feet and briefly rummaged through his various maps on the top shelf. Finding what he was looking for he cleared a space large enough for it. Then splayed its contents out for them both to see.

Placing a few various objects on the corners to keep it straight, the two of them planned. For hours the two discussed the possible areas of interest, Six taking this as an opportunity to learn more of Robert and his tendencies in his youth.

Ned's mood seemed to lighten as he recounted his childhood days in the Eyrie. Fond memories of sneaking into Jon Arryn's wine cellar. The two of them proceeded to get horribly drunk, and with that came a mother of all hangovers. One that Jon Arryn sniffed out the moment they broke their fast.

A small smile tugged at Ned's lips; Lord Arryn told them the hangover itself was a suitable punishment. Though they were forbidden from going to the cellar for some time.

As the day grew into the evening, the two men reviewed their plans one more time. Once they were satisfied, Ned rolled up the map and placed it back in its respective spot. "My children have begun to question me about your whereabouts." Ned hummed amusedly, the scene of Sansa with her hands on her hips pouting about the Spartans absence came to mind.

Six regarded that for a moment, he wouldn't lie and say he hadn't started to feel connected to the Starks. For months he'd tried to distance himself from them, and for months he failed. There was no ONI or UNSC here to drill regulations and chastise him for his emotional responses.

But, everyone he had ever known in his world.. was gone. With no way of getting back to help humanity fight against the Covenant, he'd begun to settle here. Not that he had a choice in it. "I know..."

Ned huffed in agreement,"Sansa has taken a strong liking to you in particular. I would dare say that had you not stepped in at the crossroads we could have been dealing with a much bigger problem than now."

Six looked curious at that, "How so?"

Ned scratched his beard before replying, "Well, for starters. She hasn't been tied to the hip of prince Joffrey since the incident, if anything. She's starting to look more closely into those around her."

"I take it the Prince hasn't taken kindly to it." Six guessed.

Ned unfortunately did not answer the question straight away, instead looking around the room as if the words he searched for were in the air. Finally, he continued, "From what I've seen, he's cleared his act up slightly. It may have to do with Robert now having more than an eye on him. An act, I'm certain of."

"I agree, he's trying to curry favor and salvage whatever reputation he has with the court and his soon to be subjects. Under the queens advisement, smart." Six relayed.

Another nod from Ned, "Which is what I fear, Sansa is very impressionable. Reputations aside, Sansa has always dreamed of knights, princes in shining armor that would come to save her or wed her."

"A bit naive but it's understandable for this time, especially with highborn ladies. Tales that have been passed down for centuries have a way of inspiring such admiration." Six said, a slight bite of disgust was present. Hmm, curious.

"True, when Joffrey was young. He cut open prince Tommens pet cat and showed his parents the fetal cats. Robert, was horrified and enraged at the action. Said that he was disgusted by the look of pure glee on his sons face." Ned informed, he could only shake his head at the notion. What kind of child does that to an innocent creature?

"You think Joffrey will try violence again if he is denied what he wants? In this case Sansa and control over everyone in the kingdoms." Six questioned, it would seem they were of a common mind on the matter.

"I do not know at this moment, all I'll say is dark days are ahead of us. I pray that Robert stays alive for as long as we can help it." Ned said to himself, he was not naive to the thought of a possible assassination or something that would benefit the lannisters.

Six said nothing, only seeming to digest all the information he had gathered in the meeting. Ned was very fortunate to have a soldier like Six at his disposal. He was slowly being suffocated by the constant politicking, yet he still had a job to do.

The silence was broken by the sudden voice of the spartan, "You asked me, how can I remain unseen in the city. Even in the day?" Six asked.

Confused at the change in subject he answered, "Yes, the spies in here are too numerous even for someone of your capabilities to remain hidden."

Six moved silently to the door and opened it, looking down as if contemplating his next move. It was soon set as he looked back for a final time, "All I ask.. is for you to watch."

What in the hells was going on now, Ned couldn't help himself, so he nodded.

Then it happened, and he could scarcely believe his very eyes. The spartan who was standing in front of his open doorway not a second earlier, vanished. As if he was plucked from this very existence. His shock was intensified when the door was slowly closed, the spartan had still been in the room. A new fear in him arose as he cautiously walked towards the spot Six was previously. Almost shakingly, he swept his arm across the doorway with the expectance to have struck the form of the spartan. Instead, his hand waved harmlessly through the air.

Now that he was fairly certain he was alone, he let out a quiet sigh and spoke the only word that could describe his current situation. "Gods."

Flashback End

Since then, a feeling of unease began to seep into Ned's mind. Glancing over to his left, he caught Six and Sansa in conversation. Or more like Sansa had his ear and was rambling on about something that went completely over the Spartans head. Six didn't particularly seem interested in the conversation, but leant his ear nonetheless. Ned could see his eyes dissecting anyone that caught his gaze.

It was starting to sink into his mind that perhaps the Spartan, wanted conflict. That's not to say he relished the prospect of war, but Six also didn't shy away from it either. 'If you want peace, prepare for war.' Is what the Spartan said to him when questioned about his near constant battle readiness all those months ago. At least that's what a small part of him believed.

Being raised through an endless war crushed any possible childhood he could have had. Even then, from what Ned had seen of the covenant. It was probably for the best he'd been trained like he had. Now he was an unstoppable force of war and cunning. The reports he'd received from the city watch were not good. Not in the way he'd perceived it perhaps but that's not what the citizens of kings landing thought either.

Since he'd given leave of the Spartan that night, crime had suddenly began to drop. Drastically. Rapists, known thieves, murderers that had the watch looking other ways. No doubt from either bribing or reputation alone. Some having broken necks, others their spines severed, but the last report is what gave him pause.

Two bodies had been found with their eyes wide with terror, no bodily injuries were found. It was as if.. they were scared. To death. The mere notion that one could die just by fright alone did not sit well with him. A very dark cloud was beginning to hang over his head, Six was far more dangerous than Ned at first thought. He'd seen the man in combat, but never in situations that required more than brute force.

Situations that involved spying, or as Six called it. Information gathering, a fancy word for a dishonorable act. He was starting to feel the choice he made wear down on him. Six was individually, the deadliest person in the seven kingdoms. None had proven that fact different. One such instance that solidified it, was when he seen the aftermath of a.. disagreement between the Spartan and the kingslayer.

Ser Jaime, was for lack of a better word. Humbled. Not a peep or insult had been uttered since then, right side of his face and eye were severely bruised. The skin turned a violent shade of purple, lips broken and chapped. A far fetch from the dashing prince he strutted around like.

Chuckling to himself at that image, it did bring a small amount of amusement to him. The fact that Ser Jaime was so casually incapacitated and left in a heap. Spoke magnitudes of volume to the lord of Winterfell.

When confronted about the act, Six didn't even blink. He told his side of the story and didn't deny the actions he performed. Though, Ned made it a point that he should avoid open conflicts like that. But, he supported the Spartans decision and use of self defense.

However, that didn't mean he could wipe out the entirety of crime while at the same time. Investigating Roberts bastards to prove infidelity of the queen. As much as Ned wasn't opposed to the idea of a crime-less city. The attention it would garner would be impossible to set aside. He would relay that to Six in the next report.

Something wasn't right, but he needed to focus on one thing at a time. This wasn't the North.

Turning his head away from them, he would focus on enjoying his time with his children for now. Wrapping his right arm around Arya he received a toothy smile in return as she bumped in excitement.

As the last match of the day was being announced, he felt a cold chill run up his spine. Looking for the source of discomfort, he did not like what he found. There, sitting only a few seats away from the king.

Tywin Lannister, and his eyes were fixed on the Spartan to his left. If Ned had let his gaze linger a moment longer, he'd have seen the lord of the west narrow his eyes.

A lion had found its prey.

Jon Snow

Red Keep

Drip...Drip...Drip.. Bringing his head up slowly and dragging his body with it as well. His fingers wrapped around his sword once more. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the other and faced his opponent again. Six stood tall and unflinching as he quietly circled the downed stark bastard.

Not an ounce of sweat or fatigue to be seen, the Spartan twirled the blades in anticipation of a counter attack. Jon finally stood to his feet after a few seconds of respite, the two of them had been going at it for over an hour. Something was different about this day though, Jon wasn't happy with the Spartans recent absences. Hells, the man was practically a phantom now.

It angered him, but most of all it saddened him. Six, from the very start never called or used his status against him. Whether it be for insult or personal gain. Not once. Jon never forgot that, nor would he ever. So having someone with the experience and tools of war at his disposal was an easy decision to make.

Now he could say that he could potentially keep pace with his father. It's been years since the two of them sparred, he still viewed Lord Stark as the best swordsmen in the realm. He defeated Ser Arthur Dayne after all. Jon recalled the countless times he had his father recite the dual.

Six quirked an eyebrow at the long silence, "Had enough for today?"

Jon shook his head instantly, "I'm fine, let's go again." He challenged, gripping his sword. The Spartan only nodded before pressing his attack, Six struck fast with an overhead slice. Jon's sword meeting the two with practiced precision, the strength behind the blow bringing him down to a knee once more.

Six frowned at the action, it seemed Jon still hadn't learned his lesson yet. No normal man or woman can match a Spartans strength. What six didn't know, was that Jon had expected the strike. Only waiting until the Spartan was leaning over him and increasing the pressure on the locked blades, did he respond.

Using the Spartans momentum against him, he let his body fall backward. Careful to not let the blunted steel stab him in the throat due to the action. As he felt the wet ground travel up his back, he dug his left foot into the midsection of Six and with a heaving groan of his own. He tossed the Spartan over him and heard the clatter of skin smacking stone.

For the briefest of seconds he couldn't believe he pulled it off, this was the first time he had been able to catch the Spartan off guard with a counter. He was filling himself with pride before his joy soon turned to determination. Spring himself back up, energy coursing through his veins.

Shifting his body at the last second he could feel the blow land on the ground next to him. Dust shot upwards, temporarily blinding him. As he brought his arm up to wipe it away from his face, he was suddenly struck in the back. Arching his body at the pain he furiously slammed his elbow backwards and caught six in the wrist.

Jon felt the Spartans grip loosen only slightly, but just enough for him to press his attack. Now on defense, six created some space between them. A look of approval gracing his features, "Good, very good. You're lasting longer each round.. and you've managed to strike a blow, but be mindful of your temper."

Jon merely nodded in turn, "I am grateful, yet I know you hold back when we train." He slashed left and right only to be perfectly deflected.

Six could feel a question lingering in the air, "It's true, I am holding back. Don't let that stop you from giving your all each time. Even at less than half my full capabilities, if you keep the progress you've already made and add to it. You'll be more efficient than anyone in the entire continent, besides myself of course. But it will take time. I myself had to train for years to get to where I am." Six spun a wide arc around him to keep the stark bastard at length.

Jon's arms ached as he pondered his next move, "How long?" Six didn't understand if the quirk of an eyebrow said anything. "How long was your Spartan training?"

Realization hitting the Spartan he seemed reluctant to answer. "I started when I was three, my training was completed when I turned fourteen."

Jon's sword dropped slightly, but just enough for the Spartan to spring into action and smack the sword away with a slash of his own. Shocked at not only the answer to his question, but the ferocity of the attack.

He could scarcely roll his body out of the coming blows way, eventually finding no more room to give himself. He was backed into the corner of the room, Six leveling his swords to his midsection. "Yield?"

Jon was silent for a moment before nodding, "I yield." Disappointment and exhaustion clear in his tone, no words in reply were heard as he saw Six put his blades down and nodded to him. The two of them making their way to the sword stand and returning the ones they'd loaned.

Jon watched the man before him as he gave a once over of the training area. When satisfied, he gave a small grunt and then bid Jon farewell for the day.. or days. However long he'd be gone this time. Shaking his head in frustration he grabbed a cloth from a nearby table and wiped the remaining sweat from his brow.

In truth, he'd begun to use these training sessions to slowly gather a background on Six. Being careful as to not ask too many questions each time. Six would no doubt pick up on his suspicions and shut himself off to them. Just as he had when he first arrived.

Pulling a spare piece of parchment out his jerkin pocket, he quickly used the quil in the room and jotted down what he'd learned. Hopefully with his and Sansa's efforts they can finally understand Six. Jon tried to imagine how he'd have reacted if he was in the Spartans boots. But the mere notion of imagining everyone he has every known and all of his own people being destroyed by an enemy more powerful than your own. Was a fools errand, and one he found no pleasure in doing.

But Six was a friend, and one that Jon desperately wanted to keep. He knew how thin of a line he was navigating, Six was very secretive of his past because of the things he'd seen and done. No soldier would fault him for it. But he felt he owed the Spartan. To gain a better understanding so they could help him.

If it failed on Jon's end, he had a back up plan. Sansa. He was putting a large amount of faith in his sister to ask the right questions without being suspect. Sighing heavily to himself he brought himself out of the room. He could worry more on this after a good rest, the old gods new he needed it.

Present Day

"Just where do you think yur goin' laddie?" Jon heard a voice behind him, inwardly groaning he knew he'd been caught. Slowly turning to face the newcomer, he wasn't in the mood for this.

Mathos to his credit, had a very amused grin on his face. The dark beard that traveled down his front bounced at his chuckling. "You've got the look of trouble, what ails you so?" He inquired, still slowly advancing.

Jon seemed reluctant to answer, but once the concern was clear on the middle-aged guard was clear. He sighed, "I was on my way to the godswood, I find myself needing the gods counsel."

Mathos, appearing abashed lowered his head in apology, "Forgive me, it is hard for us sometimes to remind ourselves that when any an all explanations we find aren't what we wanted or hoped for. We turn to the gods." Now standing side by side with Jon.

"There's nothing to forgive, you're right. I'm at such a loss for words they're the only ones I can think to go to for this." Jon confessed, his features wracked with confusion, anger, and sadness. Whatever it was that Jon was going through, Mathos seemed to respect his wish for solitude.

"Then go, you'll hear no protest from me and should you need me to. I'll stand guard for however long you need." Mathos informed.

Jon was grateful for the request but had no need for it, "That's quite alright, Mathos. But I'll have ghost to keep me company should anything amiss occur." Hearing the direwolf would be there for protection, Jon could visibly see the man's shoulders drop in relief. Ghost was more than capable of guarding him.

"Very well, Jon. I wish you a swift resolution to your troubles and bid you good day, my lord." With that, he was off to his room to retrieve ghost. Surely the gods would have a solution, even if they didn't. The sheer quiet of the godswood will help him make up his mind.

As he entered the godswood, the familiar sense of home filled him. Inhaling deeply at the air around him, it felt good to be there. Taking a few small steps forward to the Weirwood tree, he stared silently at the old god. Besides this one, the closest place of his gods worship was near house Blackwood. Few days ride from where he was, but he'd no intentions of going that far.

As he stared at the face, his features soon began to drop. Thoughts of his mother bearing it's ugly face, it had been over a year since he'd last cried for her. Still, he doesn't know her name. That's all he wants, her name.

But his lord father always closed himself off when approached about it. It angered Jon, saddened him even. Because he could see that his father wanted to tell him, but he never did. Was his mother some random whore? Was she still alive?

Falling to his knees in despair, he felt his direwolf try and provide comfort. Jon found none, only silently wailing in his pain. A mothers love was denied to him, once by the gods, another by a woman.

As he slowly brought his tear stricken eyes up to the old god once more, he could only ask one question.

"Why?" No longer being able to hold himself up, he fell forward and his hands steadied themselves on the roots of the tree. A sudden jolt of something he could not quite discern, was shot through his arms and into his body.

Jumping backwards in fear, he could only stare in disbelief. The hells was that? Then, Ghost started to pace, but not in an aggressive way. No, this was out of fear. He could see the direwolf's tail slowly start tucking behind its legs.

Another wave of vibrations were felt under his feet, but this time.. it was different. Bringing himself back to his feet, he slowly approached the face. He could feel, a pull. Towards it, as if it was reaching out to him. He pressed forward with his right hand now outstretched to his front. Less than a foot away now, his heart began to pound and the wind in the small woods began to fester. Ghost could be heard barking in the background but his hearing was becoming more and more fuzzy. As if he could only concentrate on the tree.

Just before he touched it, he closed his eyes and said a prayer. A prayer for his mother. The smallest prickles started as placed the whole of his hand on the trunk. Then as soon as complete contact was met..

Darkness

Noble Six

Tourney Grounds

The trumpets began to sound for the last time, all around he felt the people in attendance stand to their feet. The semi final was about to begin, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Hugh of the Vale. Six watched as the two men galloped their horses along the jousting line before bringing themselves before the king.

From where he was sitting, he could already tell the vale man was nervous. So was his horse. This wasn't going to end well, from what he'd heard from some of the guards and small folk. Ser Gregor was a tyrant, his size and strength was unmatched in these lands.

The two men bowed to the king, "Yes, yes, enough with the bloody pomp. Have at it!" Robert slurred. No words were said as the two contestants retreated to their respective sides.

"A rather inspiring sight is it not?" A voice behind him said, subtly turning his ear to allow the man to continue without commenting. He felt the man position himself besides Six, he raised an eyebrow at that.

Finally seeing the man's face he did look familiar, ah. Lord Baelish, the master of coin. Six had only seen him in passing while in the Red Keep. "What makes you say that?" Six asked.

Baelish shrugged his shoulder before nodding in the direction of Ser Hugh, "Not a year ago he was squiring for Lord Jon Arryn, now he's a knight competing in his graces tourney." A look of realization passed through Petyr, not a moment later it was gone. "Apologies, I've yet to introduce myself to you."

Six nodded before speaking, "Lord Baelish, master of coin." Baelish seemed delighted at being known if the smirk he received said anything.

"One of my many talents, his grace was most generous in appointing me to the station. Alas, I've been unsuccessful in my attempts to dissuade the king." Baelish confessed, a look of exasperation crossed his features.

Why was he speaking of these things to him? Lord Stark would be better suited for this conversation, Six was in no mood for political tongue fighting. Being a tool for years to bureaucrats and their agendas had gifted the Spartan the ability to see through most lies politicians spew.

For now, he would let the little man talk. An unforeseen opportunity to gather intel on those of the court, was something he wouldn't pass up. "Dissuade him of what?"

Baelish merely gestured to the event around him, "This cost the crown more than one hundred thousand gold dragons to put together."

Six glanced back to the king, "You being master of coin can only do so much when it comes to the king and his wants, yes?"

"Precisely." Petyr answered, appearing pleased with the way the conversation was going.

"Now I feel you have either a proposal or request of me?" Six correctly noted. Not at all deterred at the response, Baelish nodded his head. Without a word, Six reciprocated the nod and bid him continue.

"You're the Starks sworn protector, some would say you have Lord Starks ear. From outsider..to sworn protector in the span of just nigh a year." Baelish complimented, but Six had no time for pleasantries.

The man was clearly well informed, he'd his own spy network in the city, and from what he's heard. The range of said network spans the entirety of the seven kingdoms. Baelish could either prove to be a very valuable ally, or dangerous foe. Not through physical prowess, but mental.

The mind, was the most dangerous weapon never forged.

"I grow tired of these riddles, speak your piece." Six said.

Without missing a beat, Baelish finally got to the reason he approached Six. "Convince Lord Stark to have a talk with his grace, these spendings must stop. If they don't within six months, the crown will default on its debts. This cannot happen, the people will suffer for it. They already suffer his greed and absence, you've no doubt seen the lower levels of the city. That's but a taste of what needs to be done."

Six thought on it, so far every point that was made had been something Six himself had been pondering. The king showed an absolute lack of care to the people of his realm. That was unacceptable. When he had the time, he would approach Lord Stark about this topic. For now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

"You realize he sits not three yards away, why tell me this when he holds more political power than I do. What do you want, Lord Baelish." Six applied a little more force to his tone this time. Political scheming always made his blood boil, and no doubt this Baelish is more ambitious than he lets on.

Petyr's smile never faded, but he did see a small amount of alarm in his eyes. Clearly, Six was on the right track. Watching the man pull away slightly, he could see the muscles tense for a split second. Good, he caught him off guard. One more reason to tail him, tonight.

Baelish had been on his watch list for a while, but he would unfortunately have to give him credit. None of his papers were out of sort, nothing to even suggest treason or possible corruption. What he needed, was that damn ledger. It wasn't kept in the Red Keep, that much was certain.

Six felt a hand cover his own on the right of him, Sansa had her eyes glued to the match. Before Six could ask what was wrong. The two lances collided into their targets, a crashing of metal and flesh filled the air.

The king jumped from his seat, all signs of intoxication now gone. Sansa's screams filled the air as did other women, Arya could only stare in shock. Ned, was more upset than concerned.

Ser Hugh's body sailed backward, pieces of his own lance soured away. The mountain didn't stop his charge as he reached the end of his lane. From what he could tell, a shard of the lance had pierced Ser Hugh in the throat. Blood pulsing outwards, more screams filled the air as everyone became aware of his wound.

Slowly but surely, the man died of wounds. Unfortunate, a possible lead gone before he could even try and question him. 'How coincidental' six thought to himself.

Watching the guards drag him away, Robert stood to his feet and announced the end of the first days events. A somewhat half assed applause was received at the announcement. Not a word was said from his side as they all quietly began to disembark to the Red Keep.

As he silently fell into step with Sansa and Lady they began their short journey back. He could tell the sudden violent result of jousting seems to have done more than shock her. Seeing this as an opportunity to bring some form of comfort to her, he gave a small turn of the head and addressed the young stark girl. "First time seeing someone die?" He asked softly, not everyone was used to death like he was.

The question seemingly doing it's intended purpose, brought her back into the world. "Y-yes, I did not know it would be quite so.." She struggled to find the word.

"Final?" Six suggested, at the slight upturn of her lips he guessed correctly.

"Yes, final is what I was going to say. I guess it's just, it didn't really set in that one moment you can be there. The next, your nothing. A cold body with bones and blood to hold together." Sansa explained to him.

Well, that certainly took a dark turn. But that was death, it never happens the way you think. "Close your heart to it, a pure and innocent heart like yours shouldn't be tainted by it. It is a natural part of life."

Sansa only hummed in response, either finding her answer or just simply brushed it aside. He didn't know, but he would be there for her if she needed. A fifteen year old girl with what seemed like the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders. She was betrothed to the future king, after all.

He didn't envy her, nor did he pity her. These were circumstances of a world centuries behind in terms of government and political systems. Alas, there was little he could do to change it now.

What he could do, would happen later that night. Already having a plan in place he looked to the sky, it would only be an hour or two at the most before it was night.

As they entered through the red keeps gates, he typed a few commands into his tac pad. Waiting a few moments he received the information he needed. So, it would seem someone had taken a keen interest in his affairs.

Before he left the keep, he always made sure his helmet was left to record any possible intrusions. Now there had been not one, but two in the few hours he was gone. Watching the screen blink away, his eyes narrowed as they entered the castle.

The Spartan, was on the hunt. Soon, they would learn to fear the Black Death.

AN: Hey guys, I know it's been a helluva long time since my last update. I'm very grateful for the patience you've shown and had with me. I'm still undergoing treatment but each day is getting easier.

This chapter was more about the other characters and their reactions to Six's sudden demeanor change. The next chapter is going to be completely in Six's POV. We finally get to see him at his best and in his most lethal field of operation.

Till then, stay safe

Deuces.