Eddard

Jory was at attention at the door leading to the cells below, an odd site as the cells never contained prisoners and therefore never required a guard. But this was an unprecedented situation, and this stranger needed to be kept from everyone else. As it was, his one comment regarding Jon had unsettled Lord Stark to the point of being unable to sleep the night before. Jory dipped his head respectfully and offered a smile to his approaching lord. "Lord Stark, good to see you again. I trust everything went well."

"Aye, as well as could be." Ned replied, exhausted. He had come directly here upon returning to Winterfell, not even greeting Cat or Rickon and the girls. "Anything to report regarding the prisoner?"

"He's been bound and gagged since arriving. Meister Lewin attended to his head, stitched the top of his ear which was split open by the flat of your sword, and we put warm clothes on him, all prior to him waking." Jory reported. "I personally have fed him thrice since arriving yesterday, have unbound him to allow him to relieve himself every four waking hours, always warning him that should he say anything not related to his immediate needs I'll strike him with my sword, and have been sure to reapply his binds and gag."

"Good. And he's said nothing while eating?" Ned asked, trying hard to conceal his nervousness.

"No, just odd words whispered as a curse to me." Jory muttered. "I can tell you that Arya is most curious about the prisoner, she stopped by at least five times since yesterday to ask to see him."

"I trust you sent her away." Ned smiled, garnering a light chuckle from his captain of guards.

"Aye, though she's quite persistent." Jory chuckled, stepping aside to allow Lord Stark through. "Allow me to accompany you my lord."

"No, I will speak to him alone." Ned replied as he walked into the dimly lit hallway leading to the cells. "He is no threat to me." Ned said as he padded the dirk sheathed at his side.

"As you wish, my lord."

Ned walked down the row of cells to the one near the end housing the prisoner, a man now in traditional Northern garb, hands bound to the sides of the chair he was seated in, and a gag in the mouth a few inches below eyes shooting the Lord of Winterfell a murderous glare. Ned met his glare for a moment before pulling the keyring off a nail in the wall and opened the metal door and walking in to stand before the odd man. "I will remove your gag. If you call out, I will return it to your mouth and leave you as you were. If you call out anything regarding any member of my family, I'll plunge a knife into your heart." Ned drew close to the man, but maintained eye contact the entire time. "Nod if you agree to these terms."

The man, still bearing an angry stare, nodded after a moment, and Ned pulled the gag out of his mouth and let the looped fabric drop loosely around the man's neck. This Kyle Renquist breathed heavily as he continued to glare at his captor, finally growling out a quiet and indecipherable threat. "I'm going to sue you into destitution." He shook his head and coughed out a quiet, angry laugh. "You're so fucked. I'm not even litigious, I absolutely hate fags who sue over minor shit, but this, whatever the fuck this is, this warrants me fucking up your whole existence. This medieval times park of yours, fucking gone. Whatever savings you think you have, fucking gone. I'm assuming this is one of those interactive kidnapping adventure things, though for the life of me I can't think of anyone who'd shell out for this crap, and regardless, you dickheads have gone way too fucking far." The prisoner craned his head toward Ned's face. "You bashed my head with a sword, split my ear open, undoubtedly gave me a concussion, kept me bound to a fucking chair since yesterday…at least I think it's only been since yesterday; who the hell knows how long I was out for? I was gagged, and had to wait til nearly bursting before dickhead out there graciously let me piss and shit in that bucket there…leaving the gawddamned bucket in the room for me to enjoy all day long!" While not yelling, the prisoner was no longer whispering. "So yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure I have a case, and even in California you couldn't find twelve candyasses that wouldn't let me bend you over a barrel and paint your tonsils white!"

Ned leaned back, then turned and walked back to the front of the cell, then finally spun back around and fixed the prisoner with a glare. The man was easily the most insulting person Ned had ever had the displeasure of dealing with, and that was only taking into account the insults and threats he was able to understand. This odd foreigner clearly had no respect for Ned's position, name or title. In fact, he was most insistent that Ned was not who he was, and that was possibly the most infuriating part of all this. But this man also appeared completely sincere, and the objects he'd arrived with were wondrous mysteries, particularly the dragon glass that was not dragon glass but…a construct of different materials that glowed with words when the large slightly elevated part near the bottom was pressed down. Ned pulled the object out and showed it to the man. "Tell me what this is."

The man stared back at him with a look of disbelief on his face, but quickly rolled his eyes and groaned. "If I play along, will it end this farce quicker?"

"You answer my questions in a more timely manner, and we can discuss improving your lot more quickly." Ned replied with a growl of his own.

"Fine, m'lord, it's a magical relic made by fairies from lands and times long forgotten…" Kyle belted out in a dramatic voice displaying a goofy smile, but upon noting the angered glare from his captor, shrugged and started again in a serious manner. "Fine, it's a cellular telephone, or rather, it's a smart phone. Kind of a blend of phone, computer, camera and television, all in one small device, powered by a battery, which I hope you haven't drained." The prisoner replied.

"What does, no service mean?" Ned asked.

The eyes of this Kyle Renquist narrowed a bit. "It said that on the screen?"

"Yes, if the glass portion is the screen." Ned answered.

"Means that wherever we are, there's no cell service getting here. Or you've tinkered with it so that it can't pick up any signal in order to add to the illusion I'm somewhere without cell reception or wifi." The man replied once again using non-sensical words said in a manner that suggested the listener would have little difficulty following along. "But if you're really looking for me to play along, then maybe we should return to the story where it's friggin magic, but you've damaged the magic, so I can't make calls or access the internet anymore. But if you haven't killed the battery, I should still be able to show you the pictures and videos I've got saved on the device. Hell, maybe even give you a thrill and show you a couple vids of me and…uhm," the man suddenly grew nervous, "seriously dude, who hired you to do this? Man to man, I really need to know before I show you the good stuff."

Ned's face screwed up into a scowl. "I assure you, and for the final time, that I am exactly who I claim to be. I was not hired by anyone, and as uncomfortable as your conditions have been, your life continues because I took you. You would not have survived the night had my party not come across you. Dressed as you were, you'd have either been killed by a predator or frozen to death."

"Am I supposed to thank you for bashing my head, stealing my property, and kidnapping me?" The man growled, but looked away, let out a sigh as a look of defeat came over him and let his shoulders slump. "Fine, right, playing along." He looked back up at Ned. "O.K., Lord Stark, I apologize for my hostility, my lack of respect, and lack of gratitude. I've been very confused. If you are interested in my cellular device, I will be happy to demonstrate some of its features, but I will need my right hand freed to do so." Lord Stark hesitated, causing the man to groan. "I've had my hands tied to this chair for a hours, I'll be lucky to raise it above chest level. Plus, you're armed. Seriously, what could I do, especially if you leave my left hand bound to the chair? And even if I could miraculously get out of this cell, where would I go?"

Ned considered his argument. "All very reasonable words, but madmen rarely adhere to reason."

"You want to see what the phone can do, right?" The man replied. "You need my thumbprint."

"I can just take your thumb if that's the case." Ned taunted with a smile.

The stranger met the statement with a smile of his own. "Not if you're trying to stay in character. The honorable and just Ned Stark would never mutilate a man who's committed no crime, no matter how annoying he finds that man to be."

A firm look came over Ned. "That may be true, but you may pose a threat to my family."

"In which case you'd silence me, but you sure as hell wouldn't torture me." The man replied.

Ned looked at him and finally nodded, walking forward, leaning down and cutting the rope binding the man's right wrist to the leg of the chair. He then straightened up and extended this 'cell phone' to the man. "Do not make me regret indulging you."

"Here's hoping you didn't drain the damn thing." The man replied, pressing the same raised section on the base of the device and leaving his thumb there as it glowed to life as it had earlier for Ned. "Seventeen percent. Great." The image on the screen, as he called it, changed, showing many small colorful boxes and designs. The man tapped one of the small boxes, ran his thumb over the screen causing the images on it to shift, then tapped one small image that caused it to increase in size to fill the entire screen. Kyle Renquist then raised the device and turned it so that the screen faced Lord Stark, a screen showing the greatest, most realistic portrait Eddard Stark had ever seen. One absolutely perfect in every detail, one of the prisoner smiling with a woman and a boy roughly the same age as Robb and Jon. "This is me, my wife Moira and our son Kevin."

"That's astounding." Ned gasped. "The painter, he must be the greatest artist of all time."

The prisoner just rolled his eyes as he turned the device back around and wiped the screen a couple more times before finding something and pressing the screen a couple times, twisting the device back around for Ned to see, displaying something that sent the Lord of Winterfell staggering back at not just the images that were now moving as fluidly as real people move, but voices as well. The woman, Moira, was seated at a table, in front of her was a large brown…something, something round on a plate with ripple patterns all over it and possessing two small lit candles on it, one candle in the shape of a backward six, the other in the shape of a backward three, though Ned realized that from the woman's perspective, they would look like a correctly oriented thirty-six. "Happy birthday to you," the voices of two men, one recognizable as the prisoner's, sang out, "happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear…" Ned stumbled back as the prisoner's voice sang out Moira while the young man's voice sang out Mom, "happy birthday to you."

"Thanks guys!" The woman's voice came back, feigning playful annoyance.

"It's a milestone." Kyle's voice replied. "You've outlived Bruce Lee, Jim Morrison and Jesus, all by a pretty substantial margin at this point."

"That's Dad's way of calling you old, Mom." The boy's voice joked. "Of course you've pissed away your first full year of presidential eligibility."

"Oh, well then, what am I waiting for?" She replied, right before the prisoner turned the device back around and pressed the screen, ceasing the view into another world.

"By the gods." Ned whispered. "What kind of sorcery was that?"

Kyle gave him an uneasy look. "OK, I'm still playing along here, but even in your world, this…Worldos or whatever the hell you call your planet, there's still science, right? There's still techn…no, there's not, but there are devices that exist that you don't understand how they're made, but you know that sorcery wasn't involved in making them, right?" He noted Eddard give a smile and slight nod.

"Yes, but I've seen nothing remotely like that." He replied. "All the Meisters of the Citadel could toil for a hundred summers and come nowhere close to creating something like that."

"Well, yeah, but that's because your society is fucking backwards." Kyle smirked and cocked his head. "Seriously, you have a written history going back thousands of years, but you haven't advanced technologically in all that time? Don't get me wrong, in the real world, Earth, we as a species have been around for at least a couple hundred thousand years, and we only really started civilization like ten thousand years ago. But once we started flattening papyrus and writing shit down for posterity, we kinda steamrolled. Based on the Thrones show, you guys are like where we were in, hell, I don't know, like seven hundred years ago or so. But you've been living the same way for thousands of years, we moved through that era in like a dozen decades, at most. Hell, don't you all experiment with new weapon ideas? Nothing promotes advancement like an arms race. But no, same ol' swords, same ol' axes, wooden shields, bows and arrows, cripes, you guys need to grow the fuck up. I mean, easy, common sense shit has evaded you for millennia. You don't even have a printing press, and that's an obvious one! Seriously, simple, metal letters, lots of em', punctuation symbols, numbers, all that can be attached and detached to a page sized plate that you dip in ink, press to paper over and over again, and boom, you've run off a thousand copies of a book in the time it'd take a schmuck with a feather and ink to write one or two. Easy and obvious, and this hasn't occurred to any of you! Or harnessing steam power, cheese and rice, that's another no-brainer. How can you look at a bubbling kettle and not realize that steam can be used to push shit? After thousands of years of having a written history, nobody's considered things like this?" He shook his head and laughed. "I'm smarter than the average guy, but I ain't no genius, and I could pump out hundreds of civilization altering ideas in weeks. Shit your Meisters should have thought of long ago, but because this is a fictional world, they didn't." He then groaned. "Or, maybe, at least according to my girlf…uhm, some chick I know, maybe your Meisters are keeping progress suppressed to maintain their power and authority. She said they probably arranged to have the dragons die off too. She's way too into your books, even looking up conspiracy shit about them online. Nerds reading too much into Rated R Harry Potter," he laughed sardonically, "and I've spent the last twelve hours trying to remember everything she's ever told me about it."

Ned stared at the man, anger in his gaze, but now with more than a little uncertainty. "You're saying that I, my entire world, is some…mummer's farce?"

Kyle stared nervously. "If I say yes, are you going to continue treating me like shit?"

Ned exhaled. "No. Tell me what you honestly believe, there will be no negative repercussions, but do so with respect."

Kyle nodded. "Fair enough. Yes, Game of Thrones was a book, the first book in a series. I think so far there have been five or six, not sure, but a network…" the prisoner looked up to the left as he considered something, "you know how you saw the moving pictures on my phone?" Ned nodded. "Well, with that technology these…organizations called networks can have plays…mummer's farces, recorded and televised…uh, sent out to millions of people to view…"

"Millions?" Ned gasped.

"Yeah, sometimes tens or even hundreds of millions." Kyle impossibly clarified. "The planet Earth has well over seven billion people and is well on its way to eight. Overpopulation is going to be our biggest problem in a century or two, may even lead directly or indirectly to our extinction. That technological advancement I told you about, it applies to medicine as much as anything, and our unwillingness to let the unfit die will wind up killing us all. But I'm digressing. So anyway, they took these books, and made a television show about it."

"So, this…Sean Bean," Ned muttered, looking down, "he's a mummer pretending to be me."

"Yep. Doesn't really look much like you, hell, based on some of his earlier movies he'd probably make a decent Jaime Lannister…"

"What!" Ned roared.

"He's blond!" Kyle clarified. "That's it, but for Game of Thrones his hair is darker. Not sure if they dyed it or if it just darkened as he got older, which I must say, he was older than you seem to be, though going by your sons, it seems everyone in the book is a lot younger than their show counterparts. But off point, just want to confirm that I'm not suggesting that you're like Jaime."

"You're familiar with Jaime Lannister?" Ned asked.

"Tall, blond, good looking, stabbed the Mad King," Kyle rattled off.

"Dishonorable disgrace of a knight!" Ned growled.

"Agreed, but, not because of that." Kyle stated. "Aerys, that was his name right? Like the Greek god of War?"

"Greek, what?" Ned asked.

"Never mind. Anyway, the Mad King ordered his, whatever, alchemists or something, to ignite piles of wild fire hidden below the city when Tywin Lannister attacked it." The prisoner explained. "Jaime killed the alchemist, but the King kept bellowing the order to blow up the city, so Jaime killed him to shut him up. And maybe being ordered to kill his dad may have played a part in the motivation. But killing Aerys saved pretty much everyone living in the city. So, at least in my opinion, letting him live to rant and rave and give orders would have been much more dishonorable. But hey, what the hell do I know, I'm just the guy from an advanced society?"

"Your tone is far too insolent." Ned grumbled. "I am the Lord of Winterfell."

"Yeah, that's another difference between our worlds." Kyle hesitantly explained. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, bestowed by our Creator to have life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, yada yada yada, and all that crap. The nation I'm from, there's no nobility. No royalty. We have rich and poor, but from a legal standpoint we all stand at the same level, at least on paper." The stranger shrugged. "So please understand that the idea of me needing to bow and kneel and pretend someone is my better because of who our parents were is very foreign to me. And that's not something I'm going to apologize for, because, sorry pal, we're in the right."

Ned looked at him, then back down, and then a look of resolution came over his face. "Enough of this. Your device is spectacular, no matter what it truly is, there's no question of that. Even that piece of parchment is unusual, with its glossy covering, and your suggestion of a…printing press, yes, even I must acknowledge that it seems both simple and brilliant, and something that should have been thought of long ago, but the idea that you are some sort of watcher of our world, a world that truly doesn't exist, is absurd." The Lord of Winterfell looked down, smiled and then looked back up. "Answer this, Kyle Renquist; is it commonplace for you to enter and exit these moving pictures at will?"

"Actually, this is a book," Kyle was genuinely at a loss for once, "and no, what's happening, if it's truly happening, is impossible. Frankly, I'm still of the opinion that this is one of those immersive adventure experiences taken too far."

"I can assure you that this is no adventure experience." Ned replied. "I am no mummer paid to trick you. And I have indulged your lies long enough." Ned reached forward and pulled the phone out of the prisoner's hand, then turned and walked out of the cell, closing and relocking the door. "I will need to think about what to do with you, but in the meantime, enjoy the unfettered use of your voice and right arm, but should you call out, or say anything regarding my family, I will kill you."

Kyle leaned back, but a look of realization came over his face. "Hold up a second. You trust your guards to have not interacted with me while you were gone, right?"

"I know that Jory fed you and allowed you to relieve yourself." Ned replied.

"And you trust him not to have said anything to me?" Kyle replied. "Not that it matters, as having been here with me, he'd have no idea of what happened on your way back from the beheading."

"What are you getting at?" Ned growled.

"O.K., so…"

"What do you mean by O.K.?" Ned barked.

"It's an expression where I'm from, an affirmation or something." Kyle replied. "Not important, what is important is that the kid you beheaded told you that he saw White Walkers."

"The man I beheaded said nothing!" Ned growled and started to walk away.

"Right, I'm thinking the show. It was the old man you beheaded. Gared!" Kyle called out, stopping Eddard in his tracks. "Old guy, like fifty, missing an ear." Ned turned around and returned to just outside the cell. "Don't know what he said to you though, I only finished the first chapter, but has to be him as he was the only one left alive. So I'm guessing you killed him, but trust me, he and his companions were attacked by White Walkers,"

"White Walkers?"

"Others, you call them the Others!" Kyle corrected. "Becca said the term is too vague for television audiences, so they call them White Walkers on the show. Anyway, he, a kid named Will, and some pompous highborn assbag named…something Royce,"

"Waymar Royce?" Ned gasped.

"Yeah, him!" Kyle confirmed getting excited. "So those three are attacked by Whi…Others, and Will and Royce get killed, in fact, zombie Royce is the one to kill Will, and the Others let Gared go or something, and if he was anything like Will in the show, he crossed the wall and kept going until he got caught. So you kill him, and on your way back you find a stag with its guts torn open and a broken antler." Kyle smiled as he saw Ned's mouth droop open. "At least I hope so, going off of details from the show at this point. So I'm guessing you follow a trail of blood, or some other form of tracking where you find a dead dire wolf with the broken antler stuck in it and five pups nursing on its corpse. You're going to kill them quickly to prevent suffering, but Jon suggests they be kept by the five Stark children, since there are five pups. As you're walking away, Jon notices something and finds a sixth pup, an Albino he has or will name Ghost."

"Stop." The stunned Ned leaned against the bars. "How do you know this?"

"I told you, it was in the show." Kyle replied.

"And your comment regarding my…son?" Ned whispered.

Kyle paused, but replied in a very low tone. "Some theory Becca used to go on about, something she said all the internet nerds seemed to agree had too much evidence not to be true, but there was always the chance it was a red herring."

"A red herring?" Ned asked. "Like the fish?"

"Never mind, just a weird term that I honestly don't know the origins of, but basically a misdirection." Kyle sputtered. "Not important. Anyway, she called it R plus L equals J, meaning Rhaegar plus Lyanna…"

"Enough." Ned growled, lost in his thoughts.

"Well, it was confirmed in the show a couple seasons ago…" Kyle seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, "man, I've been fucking Becca for a long time."

Ned, looking down into the floor, asked almost despondently. "In your…show, does Robert discover the truth regarding Jon?"

Kyle noted Ned's expression, humbled by the very genuine-seeming fear displayed by the man. "No. Nobody finds out. You die never having told Jon," he notes the look of surprise in Ned's eyes as the Lord of Winterfell raises his head to lock eyes at the statement, "and even after seven seasons, Jon still has no clue. Only your son Bran knows, and I guess Samwell Tarly too, but relax, he's Jon's most loyal and devoted friend. And according to…my friend, that Howland Reed guy who helped you kill that super-badass guarding your sister, he has to know too." For whatever reason, Kyle seemed to feel a genuine desire to comfort the man. "I give you my word, I will not tell anyone about your…nephew." Ned clenched his eyes tightly. "Not unless you want me to."

Ned peered at the prisoner with shock. "Why would I want that?"

"Well, I was always a little confused as to why you never told your wife." Kyle replied. "They didn't really cover it in the show, but I'm pretty sure she'd have kept your secret, and it'd have led to a much easier home life for everyone involved. My guess is that your sister swore you to tell no one, and you did just that. But you didn't tell me, so if I were to tell Catelyn, then your vow would remain intact."

"No!" Ned growled, but calmed. "I…I thank you for your offer, but I ask you to tell no one."

"Well, as long as you don't try to kill me, I guess we have a deal." Kyle replied. "And since I'm playing along, do you think I could," he looked down at his bound left arm.

"Yes, of course." Ned replied. "I will still need you to remain in a specified area, and to limit your contact with others, and what you say…yes, we cannot have you speaking with others."

"Fine, fine, I'll be happy…"

"Lord Stark!" Jory's voice called down.

"Aye?" Ned called back looking to the prisoner and placing a finger over his lips. "You may enter Jory."

A moment later the guard approached and leaned in toward Ned to whisper something. "My Lord," his quiet voice was only heard by Ned, "a Septon arrived minutes ago, one claiming to be looking for a man that he had been watching over, a madman that would be dressed in scant bits of unusual foreign garb and possibly talking about nonsense and in possession of some sorcerer's relics stolen from Asshai."

Septon Dontos

"Where is he from?"

The man in brown robes with a copy of the 'Seven Sided Star' clutched in his right hand turned toward the voice and looked down upon the little girl with dark hair peering up at him. The septon smiled. "To be honest, I don't know where he's originally from. I know he acquired certain magical objects in Asshai prior to arriving in Westeros."

"Where are you from?" The girl asked, an odd look on her long yet pretty face. "You don't talk like anyone I've ever heard before."

The prepared answer was about to be provided when footsteps could be heard approaching from within the darkened vault. "Arya," the voice preceded the man, "leave the septon be and get back to your studies."

The girl shot forward and leapt into her father's arms as he emerged with the guard behind him. The septon bowed his head as the man kissed the top of the girl's head and looked to him. "Lord Stark."

"Welcome Septon…"

"Dontos, Septon Dontos." The holy man replied. "My sincerest gratitude for your hospitality, as well as for the capture and safe keeping of my charge."

"Run along." Eddard Stark muttered to his daughter, giving her a light pat of encouragement. Once away he directed his attention to the guest. "About your charge, there is much I wish to know of him."

Fuck. Give him an understanding nod. "I have no doubt of that, Lord Stark. Any answers I can provide, I will."

Lord Stark nodded and smiled at the blond stranger before turning to his guard. "Jory, no one is to enter."

"As you say, my Lord." Jory replied as he took his position next to the doorway.

Lord Stark beckoned the stranger to follow him into the subterranean row of cells. Upon entering, Eddard Stark began speaking in a low tone, so as not to allow the guard behind them or the prisoner ahead of them to hear. "Your charge, he makes claims. Some of which are utter nonsense, but some are remarkably accurate, details that there's no reasonable way for him to know. And his accent, I've never heard the like. Apart from his accent, and the use of many words and expressions I am unfamiliar with, he speaks the Common Tongue quite proficiently."

O.K., here goes. "My Lord, I do not know where he originates from, only that he has gone through far eastern Essos, made off with many of their relics, and that he seems quite mad. Perhaps if I may speak with him alone, I may be able to discern some personal details regarding him."

Ned Stark delivered the man a look of skepticism. "How is it that he was in a near state of undress, including no protection for his feet, this far north, away from any seaports?" The bearded man crossed his arms. "For that matter, where did he make landfall on Westeros, and where is it that you are escorting him to?"

"We landed at White Harbor a fortnight ago, he eluded me and stole a horse. The garments he had on were acquired in Essos, as odd as they were, I saw no harm in letting him keep them." The Septon replied. "When he left he had more in the way of clothing, but like with his horse, he must have lost much of that clothing prior to you finding him. I was planning to take him to the Citadel in hopes that they would be able to treat his madness."

Ned sized him up for a moment before replying. "You may speak with him, but I will be present."

"My Lord, I assure you…"

"I insist." Ned cut him off. "The man has made many claims, some of which could be dangerous, and I must ensure the safety of my family, my people, and the realm."

Damn. "As you wish." The two men resumed their walk down the hall toward the cell at the end holding the prisoner.

The prisoner peered at them the entire way until they were standing outside his cell, and his eyes locked onto the septon and a wave of recognition washed over his face. "You!"

"Yes, my friend. It was foolish of you to steal that horse in White Harbor and flee from me." The septon shot back quickly and firmly. "I am only trying to get you home!" He turned and smiled at Lord Stark. "Your new home, at the Citadel."

"You know this man?" Ned asked the prisoner.

"Now it makes fucking sense!" The prisoner snarled, but then a look of realization came over him. He looked sheepishly at the septon. "I mean, I recognize you from TV. You're the head of that movie studio, Madigan or something, right? Makes sense that someone like you can pull something like this off, but why the hell are you doing this to me?"

The septon rolled his eyes, but at noting the gaze of the Lord of Winterfell, shook his head sadly. "So delusional." He then locked the prisoner with an angry glare and a growl. "Very delusional."

"Where were you born, Septon?" Ned asked suddenly.

Damn! "I was not expecting to discuss my upbringing my lord, but Tarth."

"Aye, I've never been there, but I once met Lord Selwyn." Ned replied. "I've heard it's beautiful."

"Yes, my lord, most beautiful." The septon replied.

"He was born and raised in Manhattan!" The prisoner belted out. "Moved to L.A. right after high school. Started a movie studio years ago, and whatever he thinks I may or may not have done to him to deserve his wrath amounts to a squirt of piss compared to the ocean of crimes he has committed here! And any accomplices of his that help me out of this will have no charges brought against them by a very grateful me!"

"He says his name is Septon Dontos." Ned stated to the prisoner.

"Ha." The prisoner replied. "His name is Daniel Madigan. He makes those forms of entertainment I mentioned earlier, though none of them that deal with your world. Of course, if you continue to play along with this elaborate revenge of his, your world will be a six by six cell for the next couple of decades."

"It's an unfortunate case." The increasingly nervous septon stated. "He seems to have one foot planted in our reality, and one foot planted in his delusions. Even he seems to be alternating in what he believes."

"Fuck you Madigan!" The prisoner snarled. "Fine, so be it, cards on the gawddamned table! Yes, I broke into your office, and yes, your safe as well. Took just shy of eight grand, a couple of Krugerrands, and that piece of Chocolate Factory memorabilia! But kidnapping? Assault? Torture? Theft? Hell, the two thefts can be considered a wash, but all the other shit, you're going to be in jail for a long time. And unlike me, you have a lot to lose in the civil proceedings that follow! So prep your corn chute for some jail house romance, and prep your check writing hand for a little recompense!"

The septon merely shook his head. "You see my lord, while he acknowledges he's a thief, the rest of what he has to say is nonsensical rambling."

The prisoner glared at the septon for nearly a minute before exhaling loudly and looking to his captor. "He may be right about one thing, Lord Stark. I am kind of waffling between believing this to be some crazy set up put on by this man, and believing that this may in fact be real. In all likelihood, it's all in my head, but whatever the case, it may actually be my best course of action to play along. So, my lord, please ask your house priestess, the one training your daughters to sew and shit, ask her to quiz this man on the religion he claims to be a priest of."

Ned stared at the prisoner for a moment. "You're suggesting I have Septa Mordaine ask this man pointed questions regarding the Faith of the Seven?"

"Yup!" The prisoner said, giving the septon a grin. "You're fucked now, Madigan!"

The now noticeably nervous septon shrugged to Lord Stark. "I assure you my lord, this is not necessary, and it is imperative that this man get to the Citadel as soon as is possible."

"Hey Stark," the prisoner called out, "you know those Game of Thrones nerd theories my girlfriend has been muttering to me over the last couple years? I'll be happy to tell you all I remember of them, and all you have to do is confine this moron to one of your cells and let me out."

"Why would I be interested in these theories, even if they were true?" Ned replied.

"Well, let's toss one out there and see if it piques your interest." The prisoner shot back. "Rumor has it that a young Littlefinger, one madly in love with a young Catelyn Tully, was unable to accept her marriage to your brother Brandon."

"I'm well aware of the duel." Ned grumbled.

"After that." The prisoner clarified.

"I believe you've caused enough mischief with your nonsense!" The septon snarled.

"Fuck you Madigan!" The prisoner snapped. "This is just a rumor, speculation done by people way too into a story, just looking to talk about it in the years separating the publishing of the next volumes, but the theory is that after the duel, your sister runs off with Prince Rhaegar,"

"Silence!" Ned roared.

"He knows who Snow's parents are, trust me!" The prisoner snapped back. "So she runs off willingly, Littlefinger catches wind, and sends an anonymous note to your brother claiming she was kidnapped. Now I didn't know the guy, and I certainly mean no offense, but I guess your brother was a bit of a hot-head, and Littlefinger knew that the idea of baby-sister being kidnapped would send him into a rage and get himself killed. Something Littlefinger would consider justice as he nursed his torso wound."

Ned stared at him for many long seconds before turning to the septon and drawing his dirk. "I am not sure I believe anything this man has to say, but even if he's wrong, you have heard things that cannot be heard by others. Please get into the next cell while I determine what to do next."

The septon glared at the prisoner…the other prisoner, and then looked to Ned, knife in hand. He then sighed. "What the hell, it worked with Slater." He then looked into Ned Stark's eyes. "This man is a criminal, and a moron, but what he has told you, his delusions, they're all true. My name is Dan Madigan, I am from an entirely different world, but unlike this man, I respect your world, and wish to return it to its proper course."

"Fuck you Madigan!" The prisoner snarled.

"Proper course?" Stark asked, motioning with the dirk for the newcomer to get into the next cell over.

"Found a copy of the book this guy got sucked into, the book we're all in right now." He looked over at the other prisoner. "Let me guess, you used the ticket as a bookmark, didn't you?"

"You mean the ticket was the portal in?" The man questioned. "I thought it was a crazy strong acid tab. Tossed it away in the grass yesterday. Good luck finding it now, asshole."

"I'm guessing Lord Stark picked it up and put it in his pocket after bitchslapping you with Ice." Madigan smiled back, then looked at Stark. "Anyway, this moron's reference to Jon being royalty didn't go unnoticed by someone in your party. Word got back, or rather will get back to King's Landing, and someone will be able to put two and two together to get four. Robert Baratheon is mobilizing a force and advancing up the King's Road, or at least he will be in a chapter or two. At this point the bird is still in the air, but I can only jump into scenes that are written and in the book."

"This was in the book?" Kyle asked skeptically.

"This particular scene? No, at least not when I skimmed through it before jumping in." Dan replied. "But Lord Stark's return to Winterfell was in there, which is where I came in." The statement was punctuated by the sound of Ned closing the metal cell door. "Basically, it jumps from Winterfell to Robert marching north, general comments about going to deal with the possibility of Jon being Rhaegar's kid. Skimming to later chapters and it appears Baelish was the one who proposed the possibility. You know, Ned Stark went south to rescue his sister, came back north with an infant."

Stark glared at Renquist with absolute hatred. "You assured me Robert would never find out!"

"He doesn't find out!" Kyle shouted. "This guy is a liar!"

"Until your arrival, Robert would not have found out." Dan explained. "But calling Jon your grace prompted one of Littlefinger's spies to send a message to Kings Landing, and the course of the book has changed."

"This isn't a Choose Your Own Adventure book!" Kyle snarled.

"This particular book has changed because of your influence, and likely now again due to mine." Dan grumbled. "This isn't happening to every copy of Game of Thrones, but the one we fell into, which is now in a safe room only I know the code to get out of, is altered and will continue to be altered as we make changes."

"Wait, why would you lock the book in a safe room?" Kyle grumbled.

"Had an issue the first time I used the ticket." He looked at a thoroughly confused Ned before turning back to Kyle, a look of guilt and sadness on his face. "Went into a reel of Slater 4, lost the ticket, Benedict got it, he came into the real world and…well, there was a mechanic I'm pretty sure he killed, and an agent I know he did. Guy who represented Tom Noonan? Actor, director,…"

"Fuck yeah I know Tom Noonan! Loved Manhunter!" Kyle replied enthusiastically. "And I remember that murder. Dude found sliced open in an office, murderer found electrocuted on the roof, pretty much a clone of Noonan in full Ripper attire on the roof, pretty much identical to Noonan except for jacked up teeth…" a look of realization came over him, "at the Slater 4 premier. Fucking Benedict?"

"Yeah. Benedict pulled the Ripper out of the earlier Slater." Dan replied. "Not sure if you remember, but there were chunks of another guy all over the roof. That was Benedict."

"Silence!" Ned snarled. "Is there a way to remedy this issue with King Robert?"

"Why didn't you go to the scene where I run into these guys and tranq me?" Kyle growled.

"Wasn't in the book." Madigan replied. "The pages were weird, the ink was fluid movement, periodically changing, you probably fell into a scene that was there originally, but the book changed itself and wiped it out. Basically, it went from the Others attacking the three Nights Watchmen, to a brief scene at Winterfell, then the execution, the scene with the wolves, then back to Winterfell. Of the options provided, I felt the Winterfell return to be the best point of entry. No way to remove you entirely, but perhaps I can mitigate the damage you've done."

"The damage I've done!" Kyle growled.

"Yeah, asshole, the damage you've done!" Madigan snarled back. "I'm not the bad guy here!"

"Tell that to the widow of Noonan's Agent, anus!" Kyle snapped. "Or the family of the nameless mechanic! Those ticket stubs should have been burned! Or at least turned over to NASA or something! Not kept in a safe with cash and Krugerrands!"

"I kept the pieces separate to undo any damage a stolen half could do." Madigan replied defensively.

"Oh, great fucking idea!" Kyle growled. "Then by all means, undo this, asshole!"

"Yes!" Lord Stark snarled. "Undo this!"

Robert

How in the seven hells could such treachery have occurred? Ned was a brother, closer than a brother, certainly closer than those fools Stannis and Renly. Hells, he would expect betrayal from one of those two long before Ned! Never from Ned, and yet, according to that weaselly shit Little Finger, he was possibly raising a dragonspawn as his son! Likely putting thoughts of his stolen birthright into his head. In time raising an army to plant the little bastard on the Iron Throne, and as a reward to his surrogate father, blood uncle, he would grant the North its independence, and Ned would be the first King in the North in centuries!

All provided Baelish's assumptions were true. It was a stretch, one stemming from an alleged statement made by an alleged naked madman found in the middle of the forest. A ridiculous, toss-away utterance made to a bastard boy, but one that brought up a situation that was not impossible. It wasn't even implausible. Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna, he undoubtedly raped her, a thought that brought bile to the king's throat, and the monster had her long enough to put a child in her and bring her to term. Ned headed north with a babe, one that looked unquestionably Stark, but those traits could have easily come from Lyanna. Did not Robert's own children favor their mother to the point of showing none of their father? So, while unlikely, there was a chance that the bastard of Winterfell was really the bastard of the Red Keep...no, would need a better title for Rhaegar's bastard as Robert had seen to it to create many bastards of the Red Keep in the decade and a half since he had claimed the throne. Bastard of Dragonstone, that's what Robert would call him before killing him…provided this was all true.

"Your Grace?"

Ugh, not now. Robert had no desire to deal with the simpering eunuch right now, especially as he was still perturbed that if this suspicion was correct, it was the Master of Coin, not the Master of Whispers to have brought it to his attention. "What is it Varys?" The king growled as he marched toward his horse across the courtyard surrounded by his Kings Guard, thousands of soldiers waiting for him in the fields outside of Kings Landing to commence the march north.

"Your Grace, there is little likelihood that the conclusion drawn from the information provided by Lord Baelish's spy is correct. A Wintertown whore forwarding details of comments from a Winterfell guard client of hers…it's just so unreliable." The heavyset bald man stated. "And even if there's weight to be put on it, I just feel that there is a better way of discerning the veracity of this claim than by marching an army across the continent to confront your dearest friend regarding it."

"If there's no truth to it, then I'll apologize to Ned and explain that I couldn't take any chances. I'll even give he and the boy a gift of great expense for their troubles." Robert grumbled back. "He'll still be pissed, but he'll get over it. But if the claim is true, then we'll all be happy to have this army at our backs when Ned's treachery is revealed."

Varys nodded and thought silently for a moment before replying. "And how do you propose to determine what the truth of the matter is?"

Robert belted out a chuckle. "Ned is a terrible liar; he's never had the stomach for it. He very well could have lied to me about the boy all those years ago, but I would not have been looking for it then. Hell, a soldier away from home shooting his seed into some woman that wasn't his wife, that's to be expected. And Ned Stark owning that mistake and taking the boy to raise him, that's something Ned would do. Frankly, it made me feel better about myself to have Ned father a bastard. So, with all that in mind, I didn't give Ned's claim to have fathered the boy a second thought. He could have been blinking, his pupils could have been wide as saucers, he could have been stuttering the words horribly, and it would not have occurred to me at the time that he could be lying about where the boy came from. But now when I stand before him and demand the details of the child's origins, I'll be studying him, I'll be scrutinizing every detail of his face, and I'll know what the truth is!"

"I just pray that the bloodshed is non-existent…or at worst, remains minimal." Varys replied.

"Bah, you fear a war." Robert snarled as he took a pull from his wineskin before finally reaching his mount. "That won't happen. There's no way for Ned to know we're coming until it's too late for him to prepare in any significant way."

"I hope you're right, your Grace."

Howland Reed

He looked down at his son, small and lean, even by Crannogman standards, and stifled a cry at seeing the boy shudder through another spasm. His visions had always taken their toll on him, but over the last several days the boy had been thrashing around in his near-unconscious state, his eyes rolled back yet moving frantically as images he could not make sense of ran through his head.

"Father, what is happening to him?" His strong, beautiful daughter Meera asked as she stood next to him, a terrified look covering her face.

"I…I do not know." Howland answered, utterly bewildered by what was happening with his son. He sensed another presence entering the room, and turned to see his wife, Jyana, standing in the doorway of the dimly lit room, the same fearful look they all shared as she gazed down upon their son, and a scroll in her hand. "He'll be fine, my love. We'll find a way to heal him of this, whatever it may be."

The fretful mother nodded though it was clear on her face that she did not have confidence in her husband's words. She then turned to Howland and held out the scroll to him. "A rider from Winterfell was found by some Crannogmen on a hunt, he was trying to find us to deliver this, Husband."

Howland took the scroll, broke the grey wax dire wolf seal, and unrolled it. As he read the message his eyes stretched wide in amazement, and he read it again several more times. "What is it father?" Meera asked as she noted her father's surprise.

"Something Ned and I have feared for almost fifteen years."