Chapter 7
King's Landing—the Crownlands.
298 AC.
The joust was called off after Ser Hugh had been killed the previous day. Eddard made his way to the tent where Ser Hugh's body was being tended to by the Silent Sisters.
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan 'the Bold' Semly, was in there along with Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Did Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?"
"Not here or in the Vale ever that I know of. Jaime and I stood vigil for him last night," Ser Barristan answered.
"He'd never worn this armor before."
"Bad luck for him going up against the Mountian, my father's best bannerman. Lord Stark, Ser Barristan," Jaime took his leave, leaving Barristan and Ned alone.
"Who determines the draw?"
"All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark," Barristan answered the Hand of the King.
"Aye. But who holds the straws?" Ned drawled. "You're doing good work, sisters.
The Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard exited the Silent Sister tent.
A boy came forth with Ser Barrisan's Helm and his White Cloak.
"Life is strange and an unpredictable thing isn't Lord Stark. Not so many years ago we fought as enemies on different sides of the Rebellion during the Battle of the Trident."
"I'm glad we never met on the field of battle, as is my wife. I doubt the widow's life would suit her," Ned said with half a smile.
"I wouldn't sell yourself so short, Lord Stark; you cut down a dozen good knights that day on the Trident and in Dorne. Not many men could cross blades with the Sword of the Morning and live."
"His nephew Ser Addam is just as deadly with a blade as Arthur Dayne had been" Ned had lost many good friends at the Tower of Joy, his sister, and his stillborn niece as well.
"Addam Lannister is the best swordsman I've seen since Ser Arthur, perhaps even better than Arthur."
"Aye, I suppose." Ned continued to walk with Barristan. "My father said you were the finest swordsmen he'd ever seen. I never know a man to be wrong about that."
"He was a fine man, you father. It was a terrible crime what the Mad King did to him and your brother."
"And that lad was a squire till a few moons ago. How could he afford such armor?" Ned asked.
"Perhaps Jon Arryn left him some money."
"Perhaps." Ned rubbed his eye for a moment.
"I hear the king wants to joust today."
'That will never happen." Ned dismissed.
"The King tends to do what he likes."
"If the King got his way, we'd still be fighting a fucking rebellion." Ned scoffed, making his way to Robert's tent.
Robert's squire, a nameless Lannister, was attempting to put the King's armor on. "It's too small, Your Grace. It won't go."
"Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat arse; do you know that? Look at this idiot; he can't put on a man's armor. One ball and no brains."
"You're too fat for your armor." Ned nodded to Robert's large belly.
"Is that how you speak to your king?"
Robert cracked first laughing; they all laughed except Robert's squire. "You don't like the Hand's joke."
"No, I…"
"You heard the hand. The King's too fat for his armor. Go find the Breast Plate Stretcher." His squire ran off looking for a 'Breast Plate Stretcher'.
'"How long before he figured it out, you reckon?"
"Maybe you should have one invented," Ned joked.
"Alright, alright I may be a tad bit out of condition. But I can still point a lance." Robert poured himself a glass of wine.
"You've no business jousting; leave that to the younger men with younger bones."
"What cause I'm King? Piss of that. I want to hit somebody," Robert scoffed.
"And who's going to hit you back? There's not a man out there or in the Seven Kingdoms who'd risk hurting you."
"You telling me those cowards would let me wine," Robert questioned
"Aye"
Robert shook his head as he poured a second goblet of wine. "Drink"
"I'm not thirsty."
"Live for once in life, Ned. Drink; your king commands it." Robert pressed the goblet into Ned's hands.
"Gods too fat for my own armor."
"Your squire, is he a Lannister?" Ned questioned.
"I have my beloved wife to thank for that. And I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. 'Cersei Lannister will make a fine wife. You'll need her father on your side.
How's your daughter been since my idiot son?"
"Sansa's doing better. She to marry your nephew, Ser Addam Lannister," Ned answered.
"He's alright for a Lannister. She'd do well with him. If I can't ride with them, I might as well watch them and smell the blood." Robert set aside his wine and got up to leave the tent.
"Robert," Ned nodded to him being half dressed.
"Oh. An inspiring site for people. Come bow. Bow yea shits." Robert laughed as he got dressed.
The draw of the Jousting had been reshuffled in the wake of Ser Hugh's unexpected death the day before. Addam was originally supposed to face Ser Loras Tyrell in the lists.
But Addam had been drawn with Ser Gregor Clegane, aka the Mountain. Addam himself was a tall man standing 6'5, an inch shorter than the King. Clegane towered over Addam by a foot and three inches, standing an imposing 7'8.
The Hound was a foot shorter than his brother, standing 6'8. Arthur, Martyn, and Willem helped Addam into his armor and readied his horse. Zobrie was draped in a surcoat of Hoouse Lannister colors and his own armor, with House Lannister's single, pressed into it with red rubies for the eyes of the lion.
He had Brightroar and Dawn on hand in case it came down to a fight on foot.
Zōbrie snorted in anticipation of the impending joust. Addam patted his stallion's neck as he took his helm from Arthur and rode towards the Royal Box.
Arya, Sansa, Septa Mordane, and Lord Stark were seated among the crowd. Addam detoured to their seats. "My Lady, may I be granted your favor to win the joust in your name and name you the Queen of Love and Beauty?"
"You may good, Ser." Sansa handed him a handkerchief she made him.
"Thank you, my lady," Addam smiled and winked to her. Tying the handkerchief around his hand.
Addam rode to the Royal Box, where the King and Queen sat. Crown Prince Cunt was seated with them. Tommen and Mycrella were not present today.
"Enough of the pomp, have it," Robert dismissed them both. Addam rode to his end of the list and Gregor to his.
Tywin had come to see his grandson, and Ashara was there with her daughters and young Damon.
Zōbrie snorted, tossing his head, and pawed at the ground as Willem handed Addam his shield. Martyn came forth with his lance.
"Don't let Ser Gregor hurt Addam."
"Addam rides well; he'll be fine, Sansa." The flag dropped, and Addam dug his spurs into Zōbrie's side.
The ill-tempered stallion reared before charging down the lists. Both Westerland knights broke their lances at the same time. Neither shifted in their seats.
A point each was the score so far. Willem handed Addam another lance before they charged down the lists towards one another. Addam rolled his shoulder back.
The next time they met, Clegane's lance glanced to the right. Addam's lance hit true on Clegane's breastplate. Sending the mountain of a man from his saddle, crashing through the lists fence.
"SWORD," Clegane bellowed to his squires.
Addam dismounted before shouting for his own sword. "Ser Addam and Ser Gregor will continue with a contest of arms."
Willem came running with Brightroar. The longer reach of the Greatsword would be better than Dawn. Clegane threw his helm away. The Moutain took his Great Sword, killing his horse in favor of losing it to Addam.
Addam branched himself as Gregor charged at him like a hundred-horse knight cavalry charge. Addam squared his feet and braced himself for the forthcoming blow.
Clegane relied on brute strength and savagery behind every swing of his sword. Addam met him stroke for stroke. It was a battle of wills to see who would come out on top.
Clegane may have been taller and had more muscle on him than the heir to Casterly Rock. The heir to Casterly Rock's skill with a blade was as legendary as his infamous uncle, the previous Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.
The unthinkable happened. Clegane's blade snapped in half as Addam blocked his sword's swing. Clegane's castle-forged steel great sword was not as durable as Addam's Vaylrian Great Sword.
Clegane had no choice but to yield. He had no weapon. What remained of his sword lay on the ground. Clegane threw what remained of his sword to the side and stalked off.
"The Winner, Ser Addam Lannister"
Sansa released her father's hand she had been gripping so tightly during the swordfight between Addam and the Mountain.
As the day wore on, more knights advanced and others didn't. Lancel and Jaime were to tilt against each other. Jaime was one who came out on top with a score of four to two after he departed his cousin.
When Addam was not jousting, he joined the Starks and his family in the stands. Jaime was to tilt against Ser Garlan Tyrell, the second son of Mace Tyrell.
Garlan and Jaime were evenly matched, but it was the former heir to Casterly Rock who advanced.
Father and son had been drawn to tilt against one another. "Don't think I'm going to go easy on you, son."
"I never doubted it for a minute Father. May the best man win, or perhaps a small wager on the side. Loser pays the winner fifty gold stags," Addam retorted.
"Deal. I hope you like the taste of losing a son. Cause you're about to"
"We'll see" Addam rode to the end of the lists. Willem handed him his helm. Arthur his shield and Martyn his lance.
The flag was dropped, and father and son charged down the lists towards one another. Addam had tilted many times against his father and could read him like a book.
Using the same trick he'd used with Ser Gregor, Addam rolled his shoulder back. The blow of Jaime's lance merely glanced off. Jaime, however, was not so lucky.
He caught the full force of his son's lance in his breastplate; the force of the lance sent him off his horse. Landing heavily in the dirt with a thud. Addam threw his lance away as he reached the end of the lists. Raising his visor, he looked back to check on his father. Jaime's squires helped him to his feet. "You alright there, old man" Addam cheekily asked as he rode past.
"You just wait till you get to my age. Cheeky bastard."
"You owe me fifty gold stags, father dearest." Addam chuckled as he rode off.
The final of the Joust was to be between Ser Addam Lannister and Ser Loras Tyrell. Addam knowing of Loras's trick of using a mare in heat. Zōbrie snorted a little but wasn't affected too much by the in-heat mare.
"Don't worry, boy, you can have her after we win. She'll make a fine prize." Addam patted his stallion's neck.
Addam rolled his eyes when he noticed Loras riding with a rose in hand towards Sasna in the stand.
"A rose for a beautiful Northern beauty."
"Thank you, Ser Loras," Sansa took the rose.
"Didn't know you'd started liking girls, Loras. She lacks some of your favorite bits. Renly will be jealous," Addam remarked as they bowed to the King.
"Up for a small wager, Ser Jaime, perhaps a hundred gold stags on the Sword of the West," Renly questioned.
"What would I do with a hundred gold stags? Renly. Perhaps a dozen barrels of Dornish wine, or perhaps a friend."
"Indeed, you could buy a friend," Renly remarked.
"Perhaps you can buy several if you are wise to make the bet—600 gold stags. Lord Baratheon" Tywin cut in. "If your pockets go that deep, that is."
"May the best may win. Lord Lannister" Renly was confident that they would win, he and Loras.
Willem handed Addam his Lance. The flag dropped before the knights charged towards each other in the lists.
Both lances struck true, but neither shifted in the saddle. A point each. They traded several more lances.
The scores were tied at eight points apiece. Willem handed him his ninth lance of the match between him and Ser Loras Tyrell. Addam moved his stallion slightly to the right. Rolling his shoulder back.
Loras's lance missed. But the Knight of the Flower received the full impact of the Sword of the West's lance. Knocking him backward out of the saddle, he landed heavily in the dirt.
Addam was handed a wreath of roses. Riding towards the stands, he raised his visor. "I name thee the Queen of Love and Beauty."
Ned was reminded of another tournament that felt like a lifetime ago. When Rhaegar Targaryen had named Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. This time Ned determined for it to be a happier ending than the ghost of the past.
The Eastern Road, Road to the Vale.
298 AC.
Tyrion had been blindfolded and bound since he had been captured at the Crossroad Inn, as far as he knew they were heading north. Catelyn Stark had said it loud and often enough.
They had stopped. Tyrion was dragged off his horse and placed on his feet.
"Take off his hood." Tyrion took a few moments to adjust to sudden brightness after being blindfolded for any number of days.
'And on the eve of the captive Imp, downwards from his horse, did he limp. No more would he preen and prim, in grabs of gold and red.
"This isn't the Kingsroad; you said we were riding for Winterfell." Tyrion looked around.
"I did. Often and loudly"
"Oh, very good, Lady Stark. They'll be out in droves looking for me in the wrong place. With any luck, your nephew has informed my father, nephew, and your husband. My father will be offering a handsome reward for my return." Tyrion glanced at Bronn "Everyone knows that a Lannister always pays his debt."
"Would you be so good as to untie me?"Tyrion nodded to his bound hands.
"Why would I do that?"
"Where am I going to run? I would no sooner be killed by the Hills Tribes for my boots or killed by a Shadow Cat," Tyrion only hoped. Torrhen had ridden hard for the capital.
"The Hillstribes and Shadow Cats are the least of your concerns."
"Ah, the Eastern Road. You're taking me to your sister in the Vale to answer for my imagery crimes. Tell me, Lady Stark, when was the last time you saw your sister?" Tyrion worked out where it was they were heading.
"Five years ago"
"She's changed. She was always a little touched in the head. But you might as well kill me now." Tyrion spotted a somewhat familiar Direwolf hidden among the hills. Torrhen's Direwolf. If Warden of the North's Bastard Nephew's Dirwolf was close, the lad had to be too.
"I am not a murder Lannsiter."
"And neither am I. I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life. Why would I?" Tyrion argued.
"The Dagger Found"
"What sort of halfwit arms an assassin with his own blade?" Tyrion continued to argue.
"Should I gag him, my lady?"
"Why because I'm starting to make sense." All hell broke loose after that. A group of Hills Tribesmen came out of nowhere.
Torrhen cursed his luck. He'd been tracking them from afar. After learning which direction his aunt was taking Tyrion, he'd sent men to the capital to inform Ser Addam and his uncle.
There was no doubt in Torrhen's mind that word would have reached Lord Tywin by now of Tyrion's arrest.
"Come on, boy," Torrhen ran for his horse. Fang ran after his master. Drawing his sword. He spurred his horse into a gallop.
Catelyn untied Tyrion, who picked up a discarded Bracken shield. A black direwolf with ice-blue eyes charged into the fray. Jumping at the first man going for his throat.
The thundering of hooves could be heard. A familiar dapple bay horse charged towards them. Torrhen Snow had indeed followed them. He cut the head off one tribe's men as he galloped past.
Bronn took down another two tribe's men. Torrhen wields his horse around. A tribe's men were advancing on his aunt and Tyrion. Thinking quickly. Torrhen pulled a dirk from his belt.
Throwing the Dirk, getting the tribesmen savage in the back.
Tyrion finished him off, bashing his skull in with the shield in hand. Torrhen dismounted his horse as Fang tore another man's throat out.
"Ahhhhhhh." A Hillsman charged at Torrhen; thinking quickly, he flipped the man over onto his back. Thrusting his dagger into the man's heart. Bronn cut the throat of another man, while Ser Rodrik and Fang took down the last two men.
"Your first," Bronn asked Tyrion as he sheathed his sword.
"Yes"
"Nothing like a woman after a fight," Torrhen sheathed his sword and made his way over to the pair.
"I'll be fine, my lady. There's no need to bloody yourself."
"I'm game if she is." Tyrion glanced at Catelyn before turning to Torrhen. "I thought I told you to head for King's Landing to inform my nephew and Lord Stark."
"I tracked you for a while before I sent the others back to King's Landing to inform Ser Addam and Lord Stark. Ser Addam entrusted me to keep you safe; I wouldn't hold up my end of the bargain if I let you get killed, would I, Lord Tyrion?"
"No, I suppose not." Tyrion smiled despite everything.
"What's your name? I didn't catch it at the inn."
"Bronn Lord, ah," Bronn answered
"Torrhen Snow."
"Lord Snow. My services aren't cheap if you're thinking of hiring them, Lord Snow." Bronn took a sip of a flask of wine.
"Will this cover it?" Torrhen threw a leather pouch full of gold coins to the Sell Sword.
"This should cover it nicely. What's the job?"
"We'll be leaving for the capital. This is for your services till we reach King's Landing." Torrhen answered.
"What are you doing, Snow? That man tried to kill your cousin, and you're turning your back on your kin. The family who took you in, raised, clothed, and fed you. Put a roof over your head."
"I'm preventing a war, Ser Rodrik. If you wish to take Lord Tyrion to the Eyrie, then you will do so through me, Fang, and Bronn here." Torrhen drew his sword.
"He will answer for his crimes in the Vale."
"If he is to answer for any crimes he committed, he will have a trial in King's Landing; if he is guilty, he will face the King's Justice. You have two men, and there are three of us. What do you think your odds are, Lady Stark?" Torrhen placed himself between Tyrion and Ser Rodrik.
Fang bared his teeth growing. Blood is still dripping from the Direwolf's muzzle.
"There is really no need for further bloodshed. If Lady Stark is determined to bring me to the Eyrie for a trial, then she will have her trial. But I will demand a trial by combat. I have two willing candidates. Do I not?"
"Fine," Torrhen sheathed his sword.
"My fee's doubling if I'm to be anyone's champion."
"You will be well paid, Ser Bronn; you can be rest assured of that," Tyrion answered.
The Tower of the Hand, the Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
298 AC.
King's Landing had settled down after the Hand of the King's Tournament had finished four days earlier. He'd had a strange meeting with Lord Varys only hours before.
"Lord Stark. Yoren of the Night's Watch wishes to speak with you, Mi Lord, as does a man by the name of Braeden Moss." Jory's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Show them in Jory."
"Yes, my Lord." The door opened and two men walked in; one was dressed in Night's Watch armor, and the other was a soldier of House Lannister.
"Did my brother Benjen send you?"
"No, my word. I came on behalf of your nephew, Lord Torrhen Snow, myself, and Braeden Moss, my lord. What we have to say must be said in private. Your nephew wrote this for you and two others." Yoren handed the letter to the Hand of the King.
Ned broke the seal.
Uncle.
There is no time for fancy words. I only hope word reaches you before it reaches anyone else in the capital. As you well know, I was charged by Ser Addam to be Lord Tyrion's sworn shield on his trip north to the Wall and on our return to King's Landing.
We struck trouble at the Cross Road Inn. We came across your Lady Wife and Ser Rodirk. She has accused Lord Tyrion of being the mastermind behind the attempt on Bran's life.
She had him arrested. At first, I thought she was heading north to Winterfell, but she has headed east to Vale for some reason or other. By the Old Gods, I hope by the time this letter reaches you.
I have caught up with them and have convinced your wife to release Lord Tyrion. If not. I will see you perhaps in the next life, Uncle, if there is such a place. For there will be war caused by the foolish actions of your lady wife.
I have written letters for Ser Addam and Lord Tywin Lannister. I hope the three of you can come to a peaceful solution that doesn't mean a full-scale war.
Your nephew, Lord Torrhen Snow.
Damn you, Catelyn, why couldn't you just for once in your life just fucking listen? Ned cursed his wife in his mind. She had not only put his life at risk but also that of Sansa, Arya, and all those who had come to King's Landing with them.
Guilty or not. Tywin Lannister would not take this lying down. Damn, the mule-headed wife of his.
"Thank you for delivering this letter to me. I will find able-bodied men for the watch for you, Yoren."
Sansa and Addam.
Addam and Sanas had very little time to be alone; they were always under the watchful eye of Jory or the hawk eyes of Septa Mordane. They'd managed to sneak away from their chaperone.
Sansa was supposed to be at lessons with the Old Bat, as Addam called her. Arya had begun her 'dancing lesson.' She was learning the Bravvos's Water Dance.
"Where are we going," Sasna asked as Lady and Ghost trailed behind them.
"You'll see just a little place somewhere we won't be disturbed."Addam leads the way. It is a year and a bit before they would wed. That was too long in Sansa's book. She'd been having a lot of dreams about Addam.
Some were perfectly innocent, and some were not so innocent. In the not-so-innocent dreams, Sansa would wake up in sweat, her cunt and thighs wet from the sexual dreams she was having.
They came down the stairs. Sansa started in awe of the massive skull before them. "Is that a"
"Dragon's skull Yes, it is. Balerion the Black Dread, if I'm not mistaken." Addam answered.
"Ayra would love to see this; she's semi-obsessed with the Targaryens and their dragons."
"You really wish to speak of your sister when we're alone." Addam turned, placing a hand on Sansa's cheek and pushing the hair out of her eyes.
"No"
"I didn't think so." Addam bent down and pressed his lips to Sansa's; the kiss was chaste and innocent at first.
But that soon changed. Sansa stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around Addam's strong neck. The kiss quickly became something else entirely far from innocent.
Addam didn't want to scare her off after what happened, but it seemed his cock wasn't getting the message. It began to stir and harden in his pants.
"Your sword's digging into my hip," Sansa says once they break apart for air.
"That's not my sword or dagger," Addam answered.
Sansa blushed bright red. Unlike what happened with Joffrey, Sasna trusted and knew Addam would never hurt her; if she told him to stop, then he would do so.
"Oh"
"It's perfectly natural for a man to react like that to a girl he likes. I'm not Joffrey, and I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do," Addam kissed the top of her head.
"Addam, did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Addam questioned.
"Voices" Addam listened closely; there were voices that were getting louder and clearer as they got closer.
"Come, we need to get out of sight." Addam led Sansa into Balerion's skull. "Lay down and don't move. Ghost, Lady to me."
"He's found one bastard already. He has the book; the rest will come before too long." Addam recognized the Spider Lord Vary's voice.
"And when he knows the truth, what then?"
"The gods alone know. The fools tried to kill his son, and what's worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other's throats before too long. We will be at war before too long, old friend." Addam kept very still as Varys and the unknown man with him passed them.
"What good is war now? We're not ready. If one hand can die, why not a second?"
"This hand is not the other," Varys answered.
"We need time. Khal Drogo will not make his move till his son is born. You know what these savages are like."
"Delay you say, move faster, I reply." Addam released the breath he'd been holding as Varys and the unknown man with him moved further away from them.
"Come, it's safe to come out now." Addam got to his feet, helping Sansa to her feet.
"They were speaking of Lord Arryn and my father, weren't they?"
"Yes, they were. Come, we best get out here before anyone else turns up." Addam began to walk away, but Sansa stopped him.
"You know more about this than you're telling me, Addam."
"The less you know, the better, Sans. For your sake and Arya's. Your father and I are discreetly looking into Jon Arryn's death. Someone poisoned him. We're trying to find out who it was that poisoned Jon Arryn," Addam answered.
Ned.
Ned was on his way to find the King and perhaps stop an all-out war before it began.
"Lord Stark"
Ned turned to the man who called after him. "Your presence has been requested by the King to attend a Small Council Meeting"
"Does it concern my wife?"
"No, my Lord Stark. It concerns Daenerys Targaryen." The man finished.
Ned rushed to the Small Council meeting.
"The Whore is pregnant," Robert spat every word with venom.
"You're speaking of murdering a child."
"I told you this would happen. I warned you this would happen back in the North. I warned you, but you didn't want to hear. But you'll listen now." Robert paused for a minute. "Well, hear it now. I want them dead. Mother and child both. And that mad brother of her's Visery. Is that plain enough for you, Ned?"
"You'll dishonor yourself forever if you do this."
"Honor, Fucking Honor. Do you think it's honor that's kept the peace for seventeen fucking years, Ned? No… It's been fear and blood. I got seven kingdoms to rule. One King, Seven Kingdoms." Robert snarled. Renly had never seen his brother so enraged.
"Then we're no better than the Mad King."
"Careful, Ned. Careful." Robert warned.
"You want to assassinate a girl on some rumor the Spider heard."
"No rumor, Lord Stark. The princess is with child."Varys cut in.
"Based on whose information?" Ned asked.
"Ser Jorah Mormont, he's serving as an advisor to the Targaryens."
"Mormont," Ned scoffed. "You bring us whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact."
"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. A small difference I know to an honorable man such as yourself, Lord Stark."
"He broke the law, betrayed his family, and fled our lands." Ned half glared at Littlefinger. "We commit murder on the word of this man."
"And if he's right. And she has a son. A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki Army. What then?" Robert questioned.
"The Narrow Sea still lies between us and them. I'll fear the Dortharki the day they teach their horses to run on water."
"Do nothing. That's your advice. Do nothing till enemies are on our fucking shores. Did you forget what that whore's father did to your father and brother and his mad son to your sister? Have you forgotten Ned? Because I haven't.
You're my counsel; counsel, speak some sense into this honorable fool." Robert shouted.
"I understand your misgivings, Lord Stark; I do. It's a terrible thing we must consider—a truly vile thing. Yet we, who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the people.
Should the gods grant Daenerys Targaryen a son? The Realm will bleed for it."
"I bear the girl no ill will. But if the Dothraki invades, how many innocent people will be killed, and how many towns will be raised to the ground? Is it not wiser and kinder that the girl should die now?
So that tens of thousands shall live." Pycelle made his case.
"We should have killed them both years ago."
"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman. It's best to close your eyes and get it over with, "Not sure what that metaphor has to do with this Littelfinger. "Cut her throat and be done with it."
"I've followed you into war, battle. I've killed for you twice without doubts or questions. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I knew didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."
"She dies." Robert wasn't backing down.
"Then I will have no part in it."
"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command, or I will find a hand who will." Ned nodded before pulling off the Hand of the King's pin and throwing it on the table.
"And good luck to him."Ned began to turn away.
"Out, out. Damn you to seven hells. I'm done with you."
Ned turned and walked away. "Go on, run back to Winterfell; I'll have your head on a spike."
Ned ignored the rest of Robert's tirade as he made his way to the Tower of the Hand to pack. It was time to go home. He never should have left Winterfell.
"Jory, see that girls are packed. We leave before sundown.
"Father, what's going on?" Sansa appeared in his solar.
"I need you and Arya to pack; we are leaving and going home to Winterfell."
"No. I won't go." Sansa didn't want to leave; why were they leaving?
"Sansa, do not argue with me. GO PACK!" Ned yelled.
"Jory, round up all our men and bring them to guard the girls. Pick your three best men; there's one place we have to go before we leave." Ned relayed his orders.
The Street of Silk, King's Landing
298 AC.
Ned and Jory had no sooner exited Baelish's brothel when they were surrounded by twenty Lannister soldiers. Two horses galloped towards them. Lancel and Jaime Lannister.
Jaime Lannister was enraged about something. Catelyn taking Tyrion prisoner, no doubt.
"Such a small pack of wolves, cousin."
"Indeed," Jaime answered, dismounting his horse.
"Stay back, Sers; this is the Hand of the King."
"Was the Hand of the King. I don't know what he is." Jaime scoffed.
"What's the meaning of this Lannister?" Littlefinger came outside.
"Get back inside where it's safe, Baelish."
"I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you, Lord Stark? Blonde hair, sharp tongue, small man." Ned and Jaime stared one another down.
"Aye, I remember him well."
"It seems he had a little trouble on the road. You wouldn't happen to know what happened to him, would you?" Jaime questioned.
Ned spoke without thinking. "He was taken at my command to answer for his crimes."
Jaime, in a fit of anger, unsheathed his sword. Everyone drew their weapons.
"Come Stark I'd much rather you die with a sword in hand." Jaime, in his anger, had forgotten about Addam and Addam's engagement to Stark's daughter.
"Are you threatening my lord?"
"As in. I'll cut him from balls to brains and see what Stark men are made of," Jaime cocked his head to the side.
"You kill me, and your brother's a dead man."
"True. Take him alive. But kill his men." The three Stark soldiers who had accompanied Ned and Jory to the Street of Silk were quickly cut down.
Jory cut three Lannister soldiers down. Lancel stabbed Jory through the eyes.
Ned and Jaime squared off against one another. "Come, Stark, let's see if you are as good as they say. The man who killed the Sword of the Morning"
Jaime and Ned circled each other for a few moments.
Ned made the first move. Ned and Jaime matched each other blow for blow. Ned was a little out of condition compared to Jaime. The man they called Kingslayer was overcome with unimaginable rage.
They had taken his little brother, arresting him for what crime. Tyrion was no saint; neither was Jaime. No one was perfect or without faults. Stark was not as bad with a sword as Jaime had thought.
Addam cursed his father and his stupid temper as he rode to stop him from making a stupid fucking mistake. It seemed he was too late. His father and soon-to-be good father were locked in a battle of wills to see who would come out on top.
Torrhen's letter had reached Addam, but not his father. His grandfather was aware that Tyrion had been taken. He'd already called the banner in case a war started.
According to Torrhen's letter. They were headed for the Vale. Addam would call on his men and march for the Vale to bring his uncle back. But first, he had to stop his father from killing his soon-to-be good father.
Lancel was the one who brought the fight to an end. Putting a spear through the left leg of Ned Stark. Jaime sheathed his sword and walked up to his cousin. Knocked him out with one punch.
"My brother, Lord Stark. We want him back."
"What in the Seven Fucking Hells have you done, father? Lord Stark had nothing to do with Uncle Tyrion being taken; it was his wife who took Tyrion, not Lord Stark.
You fucking fool." Addam cursed his father out.
"What if it was your brother they took? Hmm. What would you do? Perhaps if you were not so blinded by his pretty daughter with lush red locks and tight cun….t" Jaime never finished that sentence. Addam knocked his father off his horse.
"Say one more word against Sansa. I will forget you are my father. Do you have any fucking idea what you've just done? The Stark will have no reason to keep Tyrion alive.
We'll get him back in pieces, perhaps. Think with your fucking brain for once, father. You do know what a Brian is, don't you."Addam continued to chew out his father.
"What side are you on, Addam, your family, or Sasna Stark? You are a Lannister, not a Stark."
"That's right I'm a Lannister. And Sansa Stark is to be my bride. My wife, your good daughter. There is nothing I won't do for her. Burn down the world of her and kill anyone who is a threat to her."Addam glared down at his father. A war was coming. House Stark and House Lannister would be at war with each other.