I was not aware until after I posted the last chapter that the Great Hall/Throne Room is at the top of the serpentine steps and the Tower of the Hand is at the bottom of them.

Ned X

He shouldn't have come south. He knew in his heart that coming south was a terrible idea. The fate of his family still haunted his dreams, but when Robert had come calling did he listen to every instinct inside of himself that screamed to stay at Winterfell? No. And here he was reaping the consequences; Robert missing and him surrounded by men loyal to the Queen and her child born of incest.

"Ser Barristan, please lift up the sheet," Joffrey called.

Ser Barristan reached out hesitantly and with a tug pulled the sheet clean off the table, revealing what it had been covering. It was a body but it was not Robert's corpse that lay on the table. Instead of the King it was a bloated body dressed in white armor, Ser Boros Blount, the Kingsguard member who had accompanied Robert to Dragonstone.

Ned's elation at seeing it wasn't Robert was soon crushed at the realization of what the finding of Ser Boros' body meant. Even if it wasn't Robert, it heavily implied terrible tidings, that the Lady Lyanna had gone under.

"Ser Boros," Barristan muttered in dismay.

"A fishing ship found him," Joffrey said, his voice high in glee. "They brought the body to the docks."

"The King, my husband, is dead," Cersei declared. "Joffrey is now King!"

No, he isn't, Ned wanted to declare for all those in the room to hear but he held his tongue. This was a precarious situation he now found himself in.

He turned and tugged on Jory, beckoning him closer. "No matter what happens, get Sansa out of King's Landing," he whispered.

"My lord?" Jory asked, voice soft and face scrunched in confusion.

"What are you whispering?" Joffrey demanded.

"Promise me you'll get her out of here," Ned said so only Jory could hear.

Promise me, Ned. Promise me.

Jory gave a curt nod before standing straight. Ned turned back to see all eyes were on him.

"What did you say?" Joffrey again demanded.

"Nothing, my prince."

Joffrey's nostrils flared and his green eyes glared at Ned. "King! I am King!"

"That's right," Cersei said, her own green eyes staring at Ned in indignation. "And Lord Stark here will be the first lord of the realm to swear loyalty to you."

"Wait a moment my Queen," Ser Barristan said, bowing his head as he moved around Ned and the table that still bore Ser Boros' body. He still held in his hand the will they had just opened earlier. "King Robert had left a will we were just reviewing. If he is truly dead, then Lord Stark here is to be named Regent."

Cersei stiffened at the words, her eyes flashing in anger. She held out her hand and made a grasping gesture. "Let me see."

Don't.

Unfortunately, Ser Barristan was not a mind reader and if there was one person who liked to turn a blind eye and believe in the good of every member of the royal family until it was too late, it was Ser Barristan the Bold. The man handed the parchment over to the Queen. She read over the words, seeing what they had all seen earlier, affirming that Ned was to be the Lord Regent until Joffrey came of age in a few years. And then she ripped up the parchment.

"Your grace!" Ser Barristan cried in dismay, at seeing her actions.

"Words are fleeting. I am the Regent," Cersei announced shrilly.

"King Robert -"

"Is dead! He set sail to Dragonstone, a day's journey, and hasn't been seen or heard from in eleven days! I am still Queen, and you will listen to me."

Ser Barristan stared at the torn up shreds of parchment that lay on the floor as if in a daze.

Lord Velaryon must have known about Ser Boros' body being found. He would have been the first one informed, and instead of bringing this news to Ned or the small council, he had likely fled the city and done so with the portion of the Royal Fleet he had arrived here with. Ned wondered if Lord Velaryon had come as Stannis' man, to keep an eye on things since Stannis wasn't here to do it himself. Stannis was his liege lord after all, it would make sense.

If he hadn't sent Renly to Bronzegate to call the banners of the Stormlands, it was likely the youngest Baratheon brother would be here with his own men. Ned would have felt more comfortable confronting Cersei about her infidelity with her own brother if things had been more in his favor but they weren't. If it was known he had put the pieces together, as Jon Arryn had done over a year ago, his life would be in even more danger than it was already in.

"Swear your loyalty Stark," Cersei demanded, taking a step forward. Her face was twisted into a look of hatred and she looked nothing like the beautiful queen so many thought her to be.

Ned couldn't. He couldn't swear an oath to a child who wasn't Robert's. It might not mean much to most but to him an oath was binding. He couldn't stand here swearing loyalty to this cruel boy knowing what he knew. It would stay his hand, and the hand of the North. Yet, he also couldn't state that he knew Joffrey was the son of the Kingslayer. Who knew where that would lead.

"I am loyal to King Robert Baratheon, first of his name," Ned declared. "Until the King's death is proven, I can swear loyalty to no other."

"Proven?" Joffrey scoffed. He leaned forward on the Iron Throne but shifted backwards after pricking himself on one of the many blades. With a scowl he did his best to ignore the rip in the sleeve of his arm and the shallow cut on his forearm that began to well with blood. "Ser Boros was tasked with guarding my father and his body was found by fishermen on an outcropping of rocks."

"He could have fallen overboard," Ned said, not believing it himself. "Neither King Robert's body, nor any discernible piece of the Lady Lyanna has been discovered."

"Swear your loyalty Stark."

Ned shook his head at the Queen's words. "I am sorry your grace, but a man can only be loyal to one king at a time and I am loyal to your husband."

Cersei took in a deep breath, seething in her anger. "Very well. Arrest Lord Stark and his men. Those who will not swear loyalty to the King commit treason."

The men behind him rustled at the news but Ned was fine with arrest. It meant they lived and gave them time to come up with something. Ser Jacelyn might still be loyal to him, and perhaps with his help he could get his men out of the city.

"No," Joffrey said, a cruel smirk making its way across his face. "You may arrest Lord Stark, but as your king I order you to kill his men as an example to those who disobey the King."

"No!" Ned shouted, his voice ringing with fear.

Cersei's head turned to her son in surprise. "What?"

Steel was drawn from both Ned's men and the Gold Cloaks and Lannister men that lined the room. Ser Preston Greenfield stepped forward with his sword drawn but was intercepted by Ser Barristan, who had shaken from his stupor and drawn his blade as well.

"You dare?" Joffrey screamed, seeing the Lord Commander of his supposed father's Kingsguard draw his blade against him.

Ser Barristan didn't answer, instead focusing on fighting Ser Preston. Something in the old knight must have snapped for him to pull his sword on a fellow member of the Kingsguard like so.

Jory grabbed Ned's chair and moved him back toward where his men stood behind them. Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys moved closer to the throne and away from the clashing of steel now taking place.

"Jory, you're our best sword, get us through that door!" Ned shouted, pointing toward the grand entrance. "I'll take care of myself."

Ned withdrew the dagger at his hip to show Jory he wasn't totally defenseless. Jory hesitated for a moment but nodded his head, running to the back of the room where the Lannister men blocked their exit.

A Gold Cloak came for Ned and made to grab the handles on the wheeled chair to take control of him but Ned slashed at the man's hand. Gold Cloak's didn't have gauntlets, allowing the dagger to cut through the leather glove and a few fingers. The man stumbled back in shock and was cut down by Ser Barristan. Ned looked behind the white knight and saw the bloodied corpse of Ser Preston laying on the ground.

"Do something dog!" Joffrey screamed at his sworn sword.

Sandor Clegane stepped down from the dais that the Iron Throne stood on and withdrew his greatsword. Ned worried that even Ser Barristan, whose old age had slowed him down, would struggle against the Hound. One of Ned's guards, Jacks, grabbed the back of his wheeled chair and pushed him through his men to where Jory and a few others had slain the Lannister men and were creating an opening for him.

Jacks pushed Ned out of the Throne Room at a sprint and Ned feared one of the wheels would catch on a rock and send him tumbling to the ground. Damn the Kingslayer for doing this to him. Even if he could at least walk he wouldn't be such a hindrance to his men.

There were several Stark men ahead of them that cleared the way of the few Gold Cloaks who lingered in the courtyard that sat outside the Throne Room. At the top of the serpentine stairs that led down to the Tower of the Hand, Jacks came to an abrupt stop and Ned was almost thrown forward out of the chair and down the stairs. Behind them the battle still raged.

"I can try to carry you my lord," Jacks said, moving to do so.

"No," Ned said, with a shake of his head.

Four of his men rushed down the stairs, likely to take on any Gold Cloaks that might be at the bottom.

"My lord," Jory was at his side. "We have to get you out of here."

"Leave me," Ned ordered.

The two guards gave him astonished looks, shocked that he would command them to do such a thing. Unless Cersei wanted the entire North rising in rebellion she would not harm him. The same could not be said for his men.

"You promised me you would get my daughter out of this city," Ned reminded Jory. "I will do nothing but slow you down. Get to the tower, get the rest of our household, and get out of here. Go Jacks, tell them so they are ready to leave!"

Jacks looked at Ned for a moment and bowed. "It's been an honor my lord."

Ned watched as Jacks ran down the stairs, his armor making it difficult. Those of his guards still alive were forming a half circle around him, and were fighting off the Gold Cloaks that were coming at them. Ser Rodrik's skill at training was showing itself apparent as they more than held their own against the Gold Cloaks. Carving his way through any in the city watch stupid enough to challenge him came Ser Barristan, who his men allowed through.

"Lord Stark, we must get you out of here," Ser Barristan said.

"I am staying, ser. You are an honorable man Ser Barristan, so I ask a promise from you, if you will grant me one."

The Bold hesitated for a second before dipping his head. "I am not sure what my honor is worth now, but name the promise you wish to ask of me."

"Promise me you will bring my daughter to the North." Ser Barristan stared at him a moment before nodding his head. Ned smiled. "Good, now go. All of you go!"

"Jacks was right, my lord. It has been an honor."

"The honor has been mine, Jory. Your father would be proud of you."

Jory gave a tight nod before he and Ser Barristan ran down the steps. Ned turned his chair around to face the fight that took place around him as more of his guards were cut down. Three more Stark men peeled off and ran down the steps, and Ned was sure it had more to do with cowardice than obeying his orders to leave but he did not hold that against them.

He looked around his dwindling guards and saw the trail of bodies that led from the Great Hall to where he now sat. Stepping over the bodies was the Hound, who shoved the Gold Cloaks aside as he stepped forward and killed the last member of the Stark household guard who stood there. Ned bowed his head at all the men who died defending him.

A silence seemed to settle upon the courtyard, but only for a moment. Not everyone who had fallen had been killed and their moans of pain were easier to hear without the clang of metal on metal. Behind him he could hear more shouting and what sounded like fighting, and he prayed for the safety of the rest of his household, though Sansa was at the front of his mind.

"What are you cunts waiting for?" Sandor said, looking at the Gold Cloaks who stood around him, as if unsure what they should now do. "The rest of his men have fucking fled down the steps! Get after them you shitheads!"

The Gold Cloaks rushed past Ned and he could do nothing to stop them. Sandor stopped in front of him, holding his great sword in one hand and holding out his other hand, his palm facing up.

"Give me that dagger and don't try anything or I'll cut your fingers off one by one."

Ned slowly reached out and placed the dagger he held into the Hound's outstretched hand. The Hound examined the dagger for a moment and nodded his head.

"Looks sharp. I'll keep it." He shoved the dagger into his sword belt.

"Alright Clegane, bring me to the Queen."

"I'm not your bloody servant," Clegane said before turning around and heading back to the Throne Room.

He left Ned there at the top of the stairs, alone, crippled, and unable to do anything as the rest of his household in this thrice cursed city struggled to survive.

Sansa

She had tried her best to do as Queen Cersei told her was befitting of her as the eldest daughter of a great house. She'd ask her father about what was happening in the realm and the city, any news he had heard that wasn't widely known, decisions he was making and why he was making them. They were more questions that her mother would ask and questions she had never asked before. Many of them her father didn't answer, not wanting to concern her with such things even though she expressed interest in them.

Then the next time she had lunch or a sewing lesson with the Queen, she would be asked about all the things her and her father talked about. She could tell the Queen thought her father should be sharing more with Sansa, as was her right as the eldest daughter, but Sansa didn't mind too much because there were not things she was truly interested in. One day she would be the Lady of Raventree Hall and such things would be more of a concern of hers, but that was still years away. She hadn't even met her betrothed yet.

The past month had been a confusing time for not only her but everyone within the Red Keep. Her father had told her he was going to Dragonstone to speak with the King's brother, Lord Stannis Baratheon, who had cut off all contact with the Crown over a year ago. Except before her father could leave he had been attacked by Ser Jaime of all people. She had thought he was going to die and had spent hours at his bedside everyday. Lady would lay at her feet, refusing to go with Harwin on their daily trips to the Kingswood. Sansa was grateful for the comfort of her direwolf. She gained strength from Lady's presence, especially after hearing how she had saved her father's life.

Along with the servants she helped feed her father small amounts of mashed up foods, massaging his neck so his body would swallow it. She would dribble water past his chapped lips regularly, knowing it was needed to keep him alive. She watched as the maesters would peel away his bandages to check the progress of his shattered leg, to make sure it was healing properly.

The two weeks her father had spent unconscious were the worst two weeks of her life. She had never cried more in that time than she could ever remember. Jory and Harwin had to all but chase her from her father's rooms to attend her lessons, but she found she could never focus on anything the maesters and septas told her.

By the grace of the old gods and the new, her father awoke from his injuries. Except more and more ill news followed the joyous occasion. The King set sail for Dragonstone but never made it. The West started a war against the Riverlands over the arrest of Ser Jaime. Father wanted to send her home because her goodsister was pregnant. Not that the pregnancy was bad news, but Sansa loved it in King's Landing; she loved the fashion, she loved the food, she loved seeing all the knights and lords who were in and out of the Red Keep, and she loved the gossip. She could stomach the smell of the city for all those other things.

But leaving King's Landing had been delayed as all ships were required to search for the King. She didn't know how delayed it would be though.

She sat with Jeyne on her bed in her room in the Tower of the Hand. They were talking about a comely knight they had seen the other day and that Jeyne was in love with, one of many she had fallen in love with since they had arrived at King's Landing. Lady lay at her feet, too big to be on the bed as well.

The Lord Hand's rooms were at the top of the tower, though her father had converted a much smaller room at the bottom of the tower into both his chambers and solar. Her rooms were one of three that were on the floor below. The other rooms sat empty but she didn't mind. Ever since Arya had been born she had always had someone next door to her.

"Lady Sansa," Harwin stood in the door frame to her room. "Jory came to advise that you should get ready to leave the city. Your father has been summoned to the Throne Room and he expects you to be on your way home once business there has concluded."

Sansa and Jeyne, who would be accompanying her back, both groaned in protest.

"Sorry my lady," Harwin said.

"You've done nothing but your duty Harwin," Sansa said before giving a heavy sigh. "And I shall do mine."

Harwin smiled and bowed before leaving. Jeyne stood from the bed, a sour look on her face.

"I should pack," Jeyne said, hurrying from the room.

Sansa was still packed from when she was supposed to be leaving a few days ago so there was not much she needed to do other than neatly fold up a few dresses and place them in one of her trunks.

That was a task she finished up in a few minutes. There were a few pieces of jewelry that lay on top of the drawers she had in her room. She opened up the trunk she knew held her jewelry bag in it and pulled it out. She picked up the bracelets and earrings, and carefully placed them inside the bag. She put the bag at the top of the trunk and closed the trunk before looking about the room. Everything had been packed away properly, as was expected of her.

"Come Lady, let us go see if Jeyne needs any help."

With Lady in tow, she exited her room and moved down the stairs. The bottom floor of the Tower of the Hand, outside of her father's new room, was a few small guest rooms and a few rooms for storage. The three floors directly above it were where all the servants lived. The fifth floor was a barracks for the guards, then two floors for family and honored guests, before the Hand's rooms at the top. Because Vayon Poole was the Lord Hand's steward, his room was on the fourth floor and Jeyne's room was next to his.

Sansa found that her friend had apparently unpacked everything after the last time they were supposed to have left, or had never packed that time to begin with. Jeyne had all of her dresses in a pile on her bed and was hastily folding them and shoving them into her trunk.

"Do you need help?" Sansa asked with a small giggle.

Jeyne looked at her and quickly shook her head. The daughter of a great house helping the daughter of a steward with something as mundane as packing? Perish the thought. "No, thank you though."

Sansa sat on Jeyne's bed, careful not to sit on anything, and watched her friend pack. Lady sat diligently at the door, her golden eyes watching them both.

"It's such a shame to be heading home," Jeyne said, as she folded up another dress.

"I'll miss all the handsome knights," Sansa said, thinking of Ser Loras Tyrell the Knight of Flowers in particular. "So gallant and strong."

Lady stood up, fur on edge and teeth bared. Sansa noticed the behavior first.

"Lady, what's wrong?" she asked worried, having never seen her direwolf act like this.

Shouts from below reached their ears. Sansa glanced at Jeyne who looked as worried as she felt. What was happening?

There was a clamor. Someone was running up the stairs.

"Lady Sansa!"

She recognized the voice as Harwin's. "Here Harwin! In Jeyne's room!"

Harwin appeared in the doorway in a huff. He was half in armor he hadn't been wearing previously, his sword clutched in his hand. In his other hand he held some sacks. He thrust two of them at Sansa.

"Give one to Jeyne and listen to me carefully." Sansa passed the sack to Jeyne as they both stared at him with wide eyes. "You have a minute to pack anything of value in your rooms into the sack; jewelry, coin, a few changes of clothes. The Crowned Prince has ordered the deaths of the Lord Hand's household and we need to leave the city now."

Sansa felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She gaped at Harwin, trying to find the words to form the questions that swarmed through her mind. The first question was why? The second question was surely he was joking, as Joffrey was too … too handsome to be so cruel!

"Go!" Harwin shouted, snapping her from her thoughts.

Sansa ran past him, as Jeyne scrambled to her trunk. Sansa dashed up the stairs to her rooms, Lady on her heels. Harwin followed them both but while Sansa stopped on the floor for her rooms, Harwin continued up to the Lord Hand's rooms. He was likely gabbing everything of value and importance her father had left in the solar.

She threw open her trunk that she had placed the jewelry in earlier and took out that small bag and placed it in the sack. There was a small coin purse inside as well that she grabbed. She looked at all of her dresses and couldn't decide which ones she was to take. The green one with the silver sash and lace? The white one with the gray trim?

"Sansa!"

Jeyne was standing in front of her doors, her eyes wide and her body trembling. She held her sack in her hands.

"We have to go up!"

There were people moving on the staircase and the shouts she heard were much closer now. Lady was tense and looked ready to pounce on something.

"Up?" Sansa asked, confused.

Jory was suddenly in the doorway, standing behind Jeyne, his face wild. "Lady Sansa, come!"

She grabbed the first three dresses off the top and quickly shoved them into the sack. Jory beckoned her and led the two of them to the staircase, where he directed them up one more floor.

The Lord Hand's rooms were filled with the members of her father's household, including the guards who had been assigned to watch her. Like Harwin they only wore parts of their armor but each of them clutched their swords and spears.

What are we all doing up here?

A few more Stark men ran into the room followed by a man in white armor who could only be Ser Barristan. Ser Barristan slammed the door closed behind him and locked it.

"Barricade the door!" Jory cried. A few of the men lifted the writing desk and placed it against the door. Others went in search of other heavy furniture.

"How do we escape from here?" Vayon Poole asked, hand wrapped protectively around his daughter's shoulder. "We were told to go up, but we're trapped!"

Ser Barristan shouldered past everyone to the doorway that led to the bedchamber. He paused as two men moved slowly through the doorway holding the wardrobe between the two of them. Banging on the doorway from men trying to break down the door is heard. Sansa wanted to cry out but stopped herself from doing so. The wardrobe was placed atop the desk, pressed against the door.

Sansa followed after Ser Barristan into the bedchamber and saw him crouched inside the hearth. She didn't know what he was doing but suddenly the back wall opened up, exposing a tunnel of some sort.

"In here," she shouted to everyone still gathered in the solar. "We have our wait out."

Jory was the first one through the doorway, his eyebrows raised as he spotted the opening in the hearth that the white knight knelt next to.

"Through here are two hundred and thirty rungs that lead down to a chamber with a dragon mosaic," Ser Barristan explained. "From there there are six tunnels, three of which lead out of the keep. I believe I know the way, so I'll go first."

With that Ser Barristan crawled through the hearth. Jory waved a couple of the other guards into the room and directed them through the hearth as well.

Sansa felt something wet press against her hand and looked to see Lady staring at her.

"Lady!" she cried, realizing the direwolf wouldn't be able to travel down the rungs. "I can't leave her!"

"Lady Sansa, your life is worth more than a wolf's," Jory said, stepping towards her.

Sansa stepped back and stooped down to wrap her arms around Lady's neck. "If Lady doesn't go, neither do I."

Jory gripped the hilt of his sword and looked between Sansa and Lady, as if contemplating what would happen if he moved to kill Lady.

"I'll take the damn wolf," Harwin said, sheathing his sword. Harwin looked at Lady, who stared back at him. "By the gods you've gotten big. I knew I should have stopped you from eating all those deer."

The pounding on the door in the other room got louder. The servants were in the bedchamber as well, including Jeyne and her father.

Harwin crawled through the hearth and after a moment shouted for Lady.

"Go on," Sansa told the direwolf softly. Lady padded through the hearth.

"Two hundred and thirty fucking rungs," Harwin's strained voice could be heard.

"Sansa, you're next," Jory commanded.

With Lady going, Sansa had no reason to stay. She crawled through the hearth and saw that the tunnel opened up so she could stand. There were cracks in the stone that let in enough light so she wasn't groping around in the dark. She could barely make out the opening in the floor and the evenly spaced rungs in the wall.

It was difficult climbing down with the sack she held in her one hand, and she started to tire the farther she went but she kept at it. One foot below the other, one hand at a time, until at last her feet were touching stone. She looked up to see a small figure several feet above her, realizing it was Jeyne.

She stepped away from the rungs and towards where she saw Harwin bent over, hands on his knees as he panted from exhaustion. Next to him sat Lady, who was looking at her as if wondering what took her so long.

"Lady," Sansa cried, stepping forward to hug her direwolf.

"No worries," Harwin huffed out. "I'm fine too."

The room they were in had a mosaic on the floor that mirrored the House Targaryen banner, a red three-headed dragon on a field of black. It wasn't that large of a room and was lit by a single iron brazier that was shaped like a dragon's head.

Everyone who had left before her were huddled in this relatively small room, all except Ser Barristan. She soon found herself joined by Jeyne, and then her father.

"What are we waiting for?" Vayon asked.

"Ser Barristan doesn't remember which path," one of the first guards who had gone down the rungs said. "He's scouting ahead."

More and more people joined them in this chamber, pushing some of them down the first few feet of the six paths that led from the room. Eventually, while they still waited for Ser Barristan, Jory climbed down the rungs and pushed his way through the crowd.

"Where's Ser Barristan?" Jory asked.

"Here." Ser Barristan emerged from one of the paths with an encouraging nod of his head. "This is the way we must go."