The Watchers On The Couch

Chapter 5: The Wolf and the Lion.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Game of Thrones' or any of its characters.

"Oh man, that was hilarious. The look on your face was priceless." Bronn said amusedly and Tyrion grumbled to himself. His TV self didn't seem to be able to catch a break these days.

On the other side of the room, a red-faced Catelyn sat silently, having been given a stern talking to by the Lord Paramount of the North. Tyrion had to hand it to him, for all his cool headedness, the man could be as fearsome as his own father when angered. And from the looks of surprise on the Stark children's faces, he assumed that Eddard's anger was a rare thing to be seen even in the North.

"You looked damn near ready to shit yourself, dwarf." The redheaded wildling guffawed; bits of chicken visibly stuck between his teeth when he grinned.

"Yes, yes. I am very glad to see that my misfortunes brought you such joy." Tyrion exhaled unenthusiastically before noticing that the next episode was starting. At least he would get to see what would become of himself.

King's Landing, Ned Stark arrives at the grounds where the Tourney of the Hand will take place. He enters a tent where the deceased Ser Hugh is being tended to, while a silent Ser Barristan watches from the side.

"Does Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?" Ned asks.

"No, I stood vigil for him myself last night. He had no one else."

"Poor man, no family to grieve for him." Sansa said.

"He'd never worn this armor before."

"Bad luck for him... Going against the Mountain." Ser Barristan responded, eyeing the corps with sympathy. The silence stretched until Lord Stark deigned to speak up.

"Who determines the draw?" Ned asked.

"All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark."

Ned looked up to meet Ser Barristans confused gaze. "Aye… But who holds the straws?"

Ned thought on his counterpart's questions. He most likely suspected corruption in the organization of the tournament that led to Ser Hugh's convenient death. Though it wasn't surprising by any means, Ser Hugh was Jon Arryn's personal squire. If anyone had any inkling as to what Jon had been up to before his untimely death, then it'd be Ser Hugh.

"You've done good work, sisters." Ned told the silent sisters.

Ned shifted. The silent sisters' eerie silence always made him somewhat uneasy.

Ned and Barristan both exit the tent and begin walking.
"Life is strange- "Barristan began. "Not so many years ago we fought as enemies at the Trident."

"I'm glad we never met on the field, Ser Barristan… as is my wife. I don't think a widow's life would suit her." Ned replied and Barristan chuckled.

"Glad indeed." Catelyn said.

Robb couldn't help but agree. His father was a great swordsman, but Ser Barristan the Bold was in a league of his own. He was, after all, heralded as one of the greatest warriors in the history of Westeros.

"You're too modest. I've seen you cut down a dozen great knights."

"My father once told me you were the best he'd ever seen. I never knew the man to be wrong about matters of combat."

"He was a fine man, your father. What the Mad King did to him was a terrible crime." Barristan was and to this day, still is a loyal member of the Kingsguard, the elite soldiers sworn to protect the king. When the Mad King was in power, it was his duty to protect him and his family and never question the king's decisions.

Nonetheless, Selmy had eyes and he had personally witnessed the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark. He would always remember the feeling of dawning horror when Aerys had announced that his champion for the trial of combat would be wildfire. Rickards screams of anguish as he burnt alive, and the sight of Brandon choking himself in an attempt to save his father would forever be ingrained in his memory.

With those words came a flux of painful memories and Ned dearly hoped they would switch the topic of conversation.

"And that lad... He was a squire until a few months ago. How could he afford a new suit of armor?" He asked.

"Perhaps Lord Arryn left him some money? I hear the King wants to joust today." Barristan said.

"Yes. That will never happen."

"Robert tends to do what he wants."

"That he does." Tyrion took a swig of his wine.

"Jousting? What's that?" Tormund asked.

"Two soldiers ride against each other on horseback and try to knock each other off." Bronn supplied.

"If the King got what he wanted all the time, we'd still be fighting a damned rebellion." Ned grumbled.

[He separates from Barristan and enters King Robert's tent. Lancel, Robert's squire, is attempting to dress him in his armor.]

"It's made too small, your Grace. It won't go." Lancel stated nervously.

"Oh gods. I did not need to see that sight." Tyrion muttered turning his face away.

"Fat fuck." The Hound said.

Ned grew disappointed at the sight. Robert was not the same man he had once been, neither was he to be honest. Robert had never been the brightest nor the most honorable, and detested anything political like himself, but to see the Demon of the Trident, a man whose name had made lords quiver behind their castle walls, reduced to- to this. He could barely recognize him.

"Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat arse. Did you know that?" Robert spat. "Look at this idiot! One ball and no brains. He can't even put a man's armor on him properly."

The boys snickered at King's jabs. Others laughed openly.

"You're too fat for your armor." Ned answered succinctly.

That made them laugh even harder. Caitlyn swatting her husband on the arm and Ned cracked a smile.

"Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your King?" Robert stared at Ned, then burst out into a hearty laughter. Though it didn't last long. The moment Lancel let out a chuckle, he turned on the boy with a serious expression. "Oh, it's funny, is it?"

"No, your grace." Lancel answered anxiously.

"No? You don't like the Hand's joke?" Robert said, looking offended and Lancel glanced between the Hand and the King, his nervousness increasing tenfold.

Arya giggled when Lancel looked ready to shit himself.

Taking pity on the boy, Ned spoke up. "You're torturing the poor boy."

"You heard the Hand." The King's voice rose. "The King's too fat for his armor! Go find the breastplate stretcher, now!"

Lancel ran out of the tent, and they broke out into mirthful chuckles once again.
"The breastplate stretcher?" Ned questioned with a knowing smile.

"How long before he figures it out?"

"An hour at least." Jon said laughingly.

"I'd bet you a silver stag he takes two." Robb chuckled.

"Maybe you should have one invented."

"That would be rather useful actually." Davos said thinking about the costs of armor the possibility of resizing them for others if you salvaged some after a battle, instead of having to melt and then remake the metal from scratch.

"All right, all right. But you watch me out there. I still know how to point a lance." Robert replied.

"You have no business jousting. Leave that for the young men."

"Why? Because I'm king? Piss on that. I want to hit somebody!"

Tormund nodded. Nothing like hitting some bastard in the face to get the blood going. Hitting the Lord of Bones was especially enjoyable, the little shit.

"And who's going to hit you back?"

"Anybody who can. And the last man in his saddle... will be you!"

Ned sighed. "There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would risk hurting you."

"Are you telling me those cowards would let me win?"

"Aye."

Damn kneelers. Cowards the lot of them, Tormund thought to himself.

Robert seemed to deflate at that. All the excitement leaving him. He walked over to the table and poured them a cup of wine each.

"… drink" He said, reaching out with a cup towards Ned.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Drink. Your King commands it." Robert insisted. "Gods! Too fat for my armor!"

"Your squire... A Lannister boy?" Ned questioned, considering the boy's family.

"Hmm... A bloody idiot... But Cersei insisted. I have Jon Arryn to thank for her." Robert sounded miserable.

"Cersei Lannister will make a good match", he told me. "You'll need her father on your side. I thought being King meant I could do whatever I wanted." He grumbled and started towards the exit of the tent. "Enough of this! Let's go watch them ride. At least I can smell someone else's blood."

"Robert?" Ned said in a tone that had him looking back in confusion until he saw where Ned was pointedly looking.

"What? Oh!" Robert said finally taking notice of his less than kingly appearance. "An inspiring sight for the people, eh? Come! Bow before your King! Bow, you shits!"

"Can you imagine the horror when they see their Kings oversized gut." Theon said jokingly.

Tyrion chuckled. "I'd pay to see the look on Cersei's face when that happened."

[Now at the jousting track where there are lots of onlookers, cheering. Ser Gregor bows before the King before he and his horse take off down one lane of the track.]

"Where's Arya." Ned asked, not seeing his youngest daughter.

"At her dancing lessons." Sansa replied, not taking her eyes off the young knight in shining silver armor, gallantly heading for her on top of his white mare. "The knight of the Flowers." She said dreamily and straightened when he neared her and made to offer her a rose. "Thank you, Ser Loras." She said, cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

Sansa squealed in delight. That was so romantic, and Loras, he was so handsome. She could barely contain her excitement at the prospect.

Loras and Renly exchange looks. Loras, alongside the Mountain, both bow before their King and take off towards opposite sides of the track.

Sansa hurriedly grabs onto Ned, her expression worried. "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him. I can't watch." Ned tries to assuage her worries.

Behind the pair, Peter Baelish decides to make things more interesting. "100 gold dragons on the Mountain."

Renly stands up. "I'll take that bet."

"Now what will I buy with 100 gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?" Baelish exclaims with a flourish.

"Or you could even buy a friend." That elicits some chuckles.

"He's going to die." Sansa's grip on Ned tightening.

A trumpet is heard and both competitors' race down their lanes.

Jon and Robb leaned in eagerly. Jousts were a rare thing in the North. Jon had once dreamed about joining one of the big jousts as a mystery knight and winning glory like Barristan had once done, maybe even be knighted in a battle for the King. That way he would never have to be the bastard of Winterfell ever again.

The horses gallop, their hooves leaving behind trails in the mud. When they clash, the Mountain's thrown off his saddle by a sturdy blow to his shield.

The Hound cracked a smile just like the one his TV self was sporting.

The crowd gasps and Renly laughs' triumphantly. With a sudden urge to gloat, he turns on Baelish. "Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."

"And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend?" Comes the reply. The implications of that statement are clear as day and with a quick glance towards Ser Loras, Renly sits down.

That garnered a round of disgusted looks.

His piece said, Baelish leans near the Stark pair. "Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really."

"Ser Loras would never do that! There's no honor in tricks."

"No honor, but quite a bit of gold."

"That's for sure. Gold is often worth more to people than abstract concepts like honor and dignity and winning one of the competitions almost assures you a life of wealth and plenty." Tyrion said.

Back on the field, Gregor gets up off the ground and shouts for his sword. His squire comes running with a sword almost his own size, and hands it to his Lord. Unsheathing the enormous blade, Gregor swings it in a crescent overhead arc, bringing it down on the horse's neck and almost cleaving it off entirely.

"Bloody hell!" Theon gaped.

"That's some serious striking power." Robb looked amazed at the sheer power.

"Yeah, and with that sword of his, he'd be a nightmare to fight against." Jon said.

"How did he become so big?" Arya asked.

"They had to have fed him horses or the like, he's a giant that one." Bronn said.

Tormund perked up at that. "He's big, aye, but he isn't big like a giant. There ain't no giants south of the Frostfangs anymore."

After a second, he noticed all of the others staring at him. "What?"

"You mean there are actual giants north of the wall?" Davos said looking startled.

Tormund raised an eyebrow. "Aye. Usually grow between ten to fourteen feet tall. Strong enough to life a grown man with a single arm. They have squashed-in faces with square teeth and tiny eyes." Tormund drew his mouth wide to show his teeth and squinted his eyes in a poor imitation of a giant. "And thick skin covered in fur. Their eyesight is poor, it is, and they snuffle, smelling as much as they see."

Some looked amazed, the younger ones especially, while others looked sceptical.

The crowd gasps and Gregor attacks Loras, knocking him off his horse and starts bearing down on him with strikes.

Without wasting a second, Sandor moves from his post near his charge and blocks a vicious strike from his brother.

"That's you!" Arya pointed with a tiny finger, grinning.

"I know it's me, girl, I'm not blind."

"Leave him be!" He snarls, the mountain growling in response.

They looked excited at prospect of a fight amongst two of the biggest men they'd ever seen. Even Ned watched interestedly. The Mountain was big and strong, of course, but the Hound was no slouch either. He'd fought in many melees and was the sworn sword to the crown prince. And he admitted to himself, that if the Mountain was to lose his head, then the world would be better for it. The man was foul and had broken every single vow he had ever sworn. If there ever was a man he detested more than the Kingslayer then it'd be the mountain.

They exchange blows, blades clashing and the sound of steel echoing throughout the field until Robert finally decides enough is enough and stands with a furious bellow. "Stop this madness in the name of your King!"

The moment the words leave his lips, the Hound takes a knee in the mud, and the Mountains final swing almost leaves the Hound headless.

They inhaled sharply.

"That was too close." Jon murmured.

After an instant of hesitation, Gregor throws his sword to the dirt, stalking off where two Kingsguard stand ready to intercede.

"Let him go!" Robert orders, and the Kingsguard step aside. Loras cautiously steps closer to Sandor.

"I owe you my life, Ser."

"I'm no Ser."

Loras grabs his hand, nonetheless, raising it overhead and the crowd cheers.

It was almost physically painful to watch the Hounds discomfort.

[Presumably on the Kingsroad on their way to Winterfell.]

"Remove his hood." Caitlyn commands.

"On that eve, the captive Imp down-wards from his horse did limp, no more would he preen and primp, in garb of red and gold…"

Tyrion idly wondered why Caitlyn would bring a bard to a kidnapping of all things, and a prick at that.

"This isn't the Kingsroad. You said we were riding for Winterfell." Tyrion glanced around, studying his surroundings.

Caitlyn straightened. "I did... often and loudly."

"Sneaky woman." Bronn said.

"Very wise. They'll be out in droves, looking for me in the wrong place. Word's probably gotten to my father by now. He'll be offering a handsome reward. Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts. Would you be so good as to untie me?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Why not? Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots. Unless a Shadowcat ate me first."

"To be fair. He makes a good point." Davos said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Shadowcats and hill tribes are the least of your concerns."

"Ah... the Eastern Road. We're going to The Vale." He speaks, recognition dawning. "You're taking me to your sisters to answer for my imagined crimes. Tell me, Lady Stark. When was the last time you saw your sister?"

"Five years ago."

"She's changed. She was always a bit touched, but now... you might as well kill me here."

Caitlyn shifted in her seat. Angered at the jab on her sister, but she couldn't outright deny the fact that she did act rather odd at times.

"I am not a murderer, Lannister."

"Neither am I! I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life!"

"The dagger found"

"What sort of imbecile arms an assassin with his own blade?"

"Yeah, it sounds kind of ridiculous when you think about it." Robb said. But he knew that wouldn't matter to his mother. She was blinded by her grief on her sons behalf, and wouldn't rest until she got what she wanted.

"Should I gag him?" Rodrick asks.

"Why? Am I starting to make sense?"

All of a sudden, a rock slams into one of Catelyn's men, hitting him on the head and knocking him out cold. They start to panic, and men in shoddy leather garbs appear on top of the nearby hilltops.

Ned and Robb startled upright.

"Hill tribes!" Jon hissed.

"Wonderful, just what we fucking needed." Bronn grumbled.

Rodrik hurriedly moves Catelyn behind a rock, out of harm's way while the men, mainly Bronn, begin successfully defending against the tribe. Tyrion sees Catelyn pull out a small dagger and quickly makes his way over.

"Untie me. If I die, what's the point?"

She cuts him free of his bindings, at which time Tyrion runs over and picks up a shield. Looking back, he notices a tribesman nearing Lady Caitlyn and without time to think, he rushes to her defence.

Neds fist clenched at the sight of his vulnerable wife and shook with the urge to leap to her defence. Robb clenched the armrests tightly and even Jon looked ready to charge.

Tyrion's shield impacts the tribesman's' knee, sending him the ground howling in pain. A blow to the face has the attacker on his back, clutching a broken nose before Tyrion finally ends it by stabbing the sharp end of the shield into his face repeatedly.

They let out collective breaths of relief and fell back into their seats almost limply.

The Hound cocked an eye at the dwarf who was watching with wide eyes. "Never killed a man?"

Tyrion jumped slightly. "Ah, no, haven't yet either since it's in the future. But that was…"

"Good one, little man, ain't never seen nobody use a shield like that before." Tormund said approvingly.

"Rodrik?" Catelyn asks worriedly, seeing the bloodstains on his leather tunic, and reaches out gently to touch his shoulder.

He startles. "I'll be fine, my Lady. There's no need to bloody yourself."

"Your first?" Bronn asks Tyrion, standing a distance away from the others. Tyrion nods. "You need a woman. Nothing like a woman after a fight."

"Well, I'm willing if she is." He replies, and they laugh.

Abruptly Tyrion felt a cold shiver rack down his spine and turned his head slightly to peer where he felt stony gazes trying to bore a hole through his skin. Ned Starks expression told him that it wouldn't be wise to repeat such words and he turned back to the screen sweating bullets.

[Now in Winterfell, Maester Luwin and Bran are seated at a small table, Luwin trying to teach Bran. Bran is fixed on watching Theon as he practices his archery.]

"Bran…" Maester Luwin tapped the map on the table with his pointing stick, snapping Bran back to attention.

"The Iron Islands. Sigil- a kraken. Words- We do not sow".

"Lords?"

"The Greyjoys"

"Famed for their skills at archery, navigation and lovemaking" Theon said with a boastful smirk.

Robb rolled his eyes. "Do you have to say that every time someone mentions your house?"

"Just making sure you remember, Stark."

"And failed rebellions" Luwin added before tapping the Stormlands on the map.

Jon barked a laugh and Theon huffed.

"Sigil - a stag. - A crowned stag now that Robert's King." Bran said, fiddling with a pin fashioned to look like the Tully trout.

"Good."

"Words - Ours is the fury. Lords - the Baratheons."

"Mhmm." Another tap.

"The Westerlands - sigil - a lion. Words - A Lannister always pays his debts."

"No. A common saying, but not their official motto." Luwin corrected, but Bran just continued.

"Lords - the Lannisters."

"We're still on their words."

"I don't know them"

"You do know them. Think."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken".

Ned sighed seeing the bothered look on his son's face.

Luwin sighed. "That's House Martell."

"Righteous in wrath".

"House Hornwood."

"Family, duty, honor".

"Those are Tully words... Your mother's. Are we playing a game?"

"Family, duty, honor... Is that the right order?" Bran asked.

"-You know it is."

"Family comes first?"

Catelyn's heart clenched at the words. She knew where this was going.

Luwins gaze softened, seeing Bran for the child that he was and slow, melancholic music started playing in the background. "Your mother had to leave Winterfell to protect the family."

"How can she protect the family, if she's not with her family?" His lip gave a slight quiver.

"Your mother sat by your bed for three weeks while you slept."

"And then she left!" Bran snapped, not looking up from the Tully pin.

"Oh, Bran." Catelyn could feel the dam breaking and tears building at the corners of her eyes. She was gone, seeking retribution. Ned gone to the capital with her two daughters. And poor Bran and Rickon were left alone at Winterfell with only Robb. Even the bastard, loathe as she was to admit it, would have been able to give them some measure of comfort, but even he was gone.

Ned hooked and arm around her shoulders, bringing her in for a comforting hug.

Silence reigned for a moment before Luwin spoke again. "When you were born, I was the one who pulled you from your mother. I placed you in her arms. From that moment until the moment she dies, she will love you. Absolutely. Fiercely."

Cat nodded wiping at her tears.

"Why did she leave?"

"I still can't tell you, but she will be home soon." Luwin tried to reassure him.

"Do you know where she is now? Today?"

"…No, I don't."

"Then how can you promise me she'll be home soon?" Bran replied, finally deigning to look at Luwin.

"Sometimes I worry you're too smart for your own good."

The sound of an arrow slicing through the air and hitting the straw target with a thud made him look up, longing and sadness welling in his eyes.

"…I'll never shoot another arrow." Bran muttered downcast.

Robb's jaw clenched and he looked away sadly.

"And where is that written?"

"You need legs to work a bow" The child answered.

"Hmm… If the saddle Lord Tyrion designed actually works, you could learn to shoot a bow from horseback."

"Really?" Bran looked up, a glimmer of hope brightening his previously sorrowful face and Luwin leaned close to the table.

"Dothraki boys learn when they're four years old. Why shouldn't you?" And Bran smiled seemingly for the first time. Not the wide grin that used to be a constant, but a smile nonetheless.

Ned caught Tyrion's eye for a brief second, and he nodded with a slight smile, conveying gratitude.

[Ned is in his chambers at his desk, Varys is speaking to him, walking around securing all the windows before sitting down to talk more seriously.]

"How is your son, my Lord?" Varys asked whilst walking around his table, carefully inspecting the room and its surroundings.

"He'll never walk again." Ned replied, not looking up from his parchment.

"But his mind is sound?"

"So they say."

"A blessing then. I suffered an early mutilation myself. Some doors close forever... others open in the most unexpected places. May I?" Varys gestured to the chair and Ned nodded slowly.

"Mutilation?" Jon cocked an eyebrow in question.

Robb shrugged and turned to Sam who fidgeted a bit before speaking.

"Well, mutilation means cutting off or causing injury to a certain part of the body so that its permanently damaged." He explained.

"If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders. But there are things you must know."

They straightened and leaned in to listen closely.

The screen started zooming in on Varys' face, his expression was deadly serious, and eyes conveyed the importance of what he was about to utter. "You are the King's Hand and the King is a fool... your friend, I know, but a fool... and doomed unless you save him."

Their eyes widened.

"Doomed?" Robb said looking towards his father.

"Does he mean that the king is going to die?" Arya asked.

Ned remained silent, still paying rapt attention to the screen.

Ned met his eyes. "I've been in the capital a month. Why have you waited so long to tell me this?

"I didn't trust you."

"So why do you trust me now?"

"The Queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely. There are few men of honor in the capital. You are one of them. I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem."

"What sort of doom does the King face?" Ned asked wearily.

"The same sort as Jon Arryn. The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace."

"Is that the name of the poison?" Jon asked.

"Yes. Tears of Lys is a rare and expensive poison. It is clear, tasteless, odourless, and leaves no trace. When dissolved in liquids and swallowed, the poison eats away at the stomach and bowels of the victim, making it appear as if the victim died due to failing or diseased organs." Tyrion explained.

Ned stood from his seat and took slow steps towards the balcony. "Who gave it to him?"

"Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one? There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy... all he was he owed to Jon Arryn."

Ned turned to Varys, some measure of confusion expressed on his face. "The squire, Ser Hugh?"

"Convenient that he should die as soon as Lord Stark started asking questions. Obviously, someone was trying to get rid of loose ends." Davos said.

"Pity what happened to him, just when his life seemed to be going so nicely."

"If Ser Hugh poisoned him, who paid Ser Hugh?"

Varys lifted his hands as if to communicate obliviousness. "Someone who could afford it."

"Jon was a man of peace. He was Hand for 17 years - 17 good years. Why kill him?" Ned asked, blood starting to boil.

Varys met his eyes and uttered his next words slowly, punctuating each word. "He started asking questions."

Ned clenched his fists so tightly that they turned white. "He started asking questions about the kings children, and they poisoned him to shut him up.

[We shift to a dark dungeon of King's Landing. Arya is chasing a cat. She stops to admire a large dragon's skull. She hears two men talking, and hides from them, just in earshot. The two men are Lord Varys and Magister Illyrio Mopatis.]

"Wow." Arya watched the skull with amazement.

Theon gaped at the massive skull. "That's the size of a carriage, the thing must've been huge!"

"Yeah." Jon whispered, watching it with wide eyes.

"He's found one bastard already. He has the book. The rest will come." Varys spoke.

"And when he knows the truth, what will he do?"

"The gods alone know. The fools tried to kill his son. What's worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other's throats. We will be at war soon, my friend."

Daenerys recognized Illyrio at once. "Is that Illyrio Mopatis? What's he doing in Kings Landing?"

"Scheming with the spider apparently." Tyrion said then turned to Ned. "Just a minute ago he was talking to you about being trustworthy and honourable, the next he's making plans with the host of Roberts most hated enemy."

Ned scowled.

"What good is war now? We're not ready. If one Hand can die, why not a second?" Mopatis said conspiratorially.

"This Hand is not the other." Varys countered.

"We need time. Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born. You know how these savages are."

""Delay," you say. "Move fast, " I reply. This is no longer a game for two players."

"It never was..."

The two men leave, Varys locks a gate behind them. Arya runs to the gate and can't get out. She takes off in the other direction, deeper into the dungeon, to find an exit.

[Varys enters the Throne Room, were Baelish is standing, gazing upon the throne.]

"The first to arrive and the last to leave. I admire your industry." Varys said, languidly strolling towards Baelish.

"You do move quietly."

"We all have our qualities."

"It's creepy, bloody eunuch suddenly appearing out of nowhere." Theon shuddered.

"You look a bit lonely today. You should pay a visit to my brothel this evening. First boy is on the house." Baelish said, curling a lip in slight amusement.

They grimaced.

"I think you're mistaking business with pleasure."

"Am I? All those birds that whisper in your ear, such pretty little things. Trust me, we accommodate all inclinations." Baelish put a hand on Varys' shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sure. Lord Redwyne likes his boys very young, I hear."

"I'm a purveyor of beauty and discretion, both equally important."

"Though I suppose beauty is a subjective quality, no? Is it true that Ser Marlon of Tumblestone prefers amputees?" Even Baelish couldn't smirk at that fetish.

"What the fuck…" Theon mumbled, disturbed at the mere thought and Robb gagged in disgust.

"All desires are valid to a man with a full purse."

"And I heard the most awful rumour about a certain lord with a taste for fresh cadavers. Must be enormously difficult to accommodate that inclination. The logistics alone... to find beautiful corpses before they rot." Varys added.

Jon desperately held back the urge to vomit, acid stinging his throat. Two old men discussing sexual intercourse with little boys, amputees, and the dead. It couldn't get weirder than this. He made a mental note to avoid the two in the future.

"Strictly speaking, such a thing would not be in accordance with the King's laws."

The spiders face lost all pretences of humour, and leaned in, almost spitting the words out as if they were venom in his mouth. "Strictly speaking."

"Tell me. Does someone, somewhere, keep your balls in a little box? I've often wondered." Baelish asked.

"I fail to see how this may be useful to saving the future?" Davos said. Why were they discussing Varys' balls in the first place? It made no sense.

"Not a bloody clue." Tormund replied. He chalked the absurdity of the topic up to them being southerners.

Varys sighed. "Do you know, I have no idea where they are? And we had been so close. But enough about me. How have you been since we last saw each other?"

"Since you last saw me or since I last saw you?"

"Now the last time I saw you, you were talking to the Hand of the King."

"Saw me with your own eyes?"

"Eyes I own." Varys said.

"Council business. We all have so much to discuss with Ned Stark."

"Everyone's well aware of your enduring fondness for Lord Stark's wife. If the Lannisters were behind the attempt on the Stark boy's life and it was discovered that you helped the Starks come to that conclusion... To think... A simple word to the Queen..."

"One shudders at the thought."

"Oh." Varys gave an exaggerated shudder.

"But you know something? I do believe that I have seen you even more recently than you have seen me."

"Have you?"

"Yes. Earlier today, I distinctly recall seeing you talking to Lord Stark in his chambers."

Varys smiled. "Was that you under the bed?"

"And not long after that when I saw you escorting a certain foreign dignitary... Council business?" The spiders face went carefully blank and Baelish continued. "Of course you would have friends from across The Narrow Sea. You're from there yourself, after all. We're friends, aren't we, Lord Varys? I'd like to think we are. So you can imagine my burden, wondering if the King might question my friend's sympathies… To stand at a crossroads where turning left means loyalty to a friend, turning right, loyalty to the realm.

Tyrion snorted. Ironic that the two biggest schemers in the Seven Kingdoms should be talking of loyalty as if they had any.

"Oh, please." Varys almost laughed.

"To find myself in a position where a simple word to the King –"

Baelish is cut off when Renly enters from a different doorway and cuts both men off.

"What are you two conspiring about? Well, whatever it is, you'd best hurry up. My brother is coming." Renly stated as he whizzed past hurriedly.

"To a small council meeting?" Baelish looked surprised at the mere thought.

"It shouldn't be such a big deal. The King should be attending all council meeting." Davos said.

"Disturbing news from far away." Varys looked over his shoulders as he followed Renly. "Haven't you heard?"

"I don't understand father. I could see that there was some underlying meaning to their conversation, but what is it that they wanted to gain from it?" Sansa asked Ned.

Ned put a hand to his chin. "They were exchanging threats and trying to gleam how much the other knows." He replied.

[Arya exits a tunnel outside of King's Landing, at the beach of Blackwater Bay. She heads to the city's gate but is stopped by two guards.]

"Off with you. No begging." One of the guards barked in his gruff voice.

Jon smiled. She did look like a beggar in those raggedy clothes.

"I'm not a beggar. I live here."

"D'you want a smack on your ear to help you with your hearing?" The other sneered.

"I want to see my father." Arya demanded.

"I want to fuck the Queen, for all the good it does me." One of the guards said.

"Me too."

"Yep."

"You want your father, boy? He's lying on the floor of some tavern, getting pissed on by his friends." The other added.

Jon watched Arya go red faced in anger and knew a verbal beatdown was coming. He almost felt bad for the guards.

"My father is Hand of the King! I'm not a boy. I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell and if you lay a hand on me, my father will have both your heads on spikes! Now are you going to let me by or do I need to smack you on the ear to help with your hearing?"

They burst out into laughter. laughed

"She sure is a fiery one." Bronn commented.

Davos chuckled. "Remind me never to get on her bad side."

Arya giggled slightly at their joking, pleased with herself.

[Quick cut to Arya standing in front of Ned at his desk.]

"You know I had half my guard out searching for you? You promised me this would stop." Ned sighed tiredly.

"They said they were going to kill you." Arya looked worried.

"Who did?"

"I didn't see them, but I think one was fat." Arya said.

The boys snickered.

"Well, she's not wrong." Robb said.

"Oh, Arya."

"I'm not lying! They said you found the bastard and the wolves are fighting the lions and the savage... something about the savage."

Ned perked up at the mention of his visit to the blacksmith. "Where did you hear this?"

"In the dungeons, near the dragon skulls."

"What were you doing in the dungeons?"

"Chasing a cat…" Arya muttered and Ned sighed again. Then, a knock at the door, and Jory poked his head in.

Ned gave Arya a stern look. "Never run off without telling us where you're going. It's fine in Winterfell, since we know the place and people, but Kings Landing is another thing entirely. It's dangerous and the people not to be trusted. Understand?"

"Yes, father."

"Pardon, my Lord. There's a Night's Watchman here begging a word. He says it's urgent." Ned nodded to allow the man entrance and a man clothed in all black wandered into his chambers.

"Your name, friend?" Ned asked.

"Yoren, if it please. This must be your son. He has the look."

Robb and Jon instantly burst into laughter, even Sam failing to hold it in. Daenerys hid a giggle behind her hand. Meanwhile, Arya, red-faced, was staring daggers at them all.

"I'm a girl!" Arya yelled back.

"Did Benjen send you?"

"No one sent me, my Lord. I'm here to find men for The Wall, see if there's any scum in the dungeons that might be fit for service."

"Ah, we'll find recruits for you."

"Thank you, my Lord. But that's not why I disturb you now. Your brother, Benjen... his blood runs black, makes him as much my brother as yours. It's for his sake I rode here so hard I damn near killed my horse! There are others riding too. The whole city will know by tomorrow."

Ned felt his heart plummet into his stomach, and he could see Jon and the other children gaining worried expressions.

"Did something happen to uncle Benjen?" Jon asked.

Davos looked contemplative. "He said the entire city would know, I hardly believe that the death of a black brother would be this important, even the brother to a Lord Paramount." He said and hastily added "Meaning no offense."

"None taken."

"Then it's most likely about my capture." Tyrion stated.

Ned nodded. But so fast? Had it been such a long time since the capture? How many days had it been? The TV didn't give any information regarding the passage of time, which makes it difficult to pinpoint exactly how long into the future these events take place.

Ned looked up curiously. "Know what?"

"Best said in private, my Lord." And the nights watchman looked at Arya.

"Go on. We'll talk more later." Ned told Arya. "Jory, take her safely to her room."

"Come along, my Lady. You heard your father." Jory said and escorted Arya out.

The door shut behind them and Arya looked up to Jory. "How many guards does my father have?"

"Here in King's Landing? Fifty." Jory answered.

"You wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?" She looked at him almost pleadingly and he chuckled at her worry.

"No fear on that count, little Lady.

Cat smiled. It was sweet of her to worry over her father so.

Ned looked to Yoren expectantly, now that they were alone in his chambers.

"Well?" He prodded.

"It's about your wife, my Lord. She's taken the Imp."

"Right on the money, dwarf." Bronn said.

[With Catelyn and Tyrion, in the Vale.]

"That's the bloody gate isn't it?" Robb asked curiously to which the others nodded.

Their small group approached a gate, guarded by men dressed in armor adorned by the sigil of house Arryn.

"You're far from home, Lady Stark." One of the guardsmen spoke.

"To whom do I speak?"

"Ser Vardis Egen, Knight of The Vale. Is Lady Arryn expecting your visit?"

"There was no time to send word." Catelyn replied.

"May I ask, my Lady, why he is with you?" The guard nodded his head at the Imp.

She sighed. "That's why there was no time. He is my prisoner."

"He doesn't look like a prisoner."

"My sister will decide what he looks like." Catelyn ground out through clenched teeth.

"Yes, my Lady. She will at that."

Ned's mouth twitched ever so slightly into a smile. His wife's temper was a thing not to be trifled with.

The guards all turn their horses and escort Catelyn and her men towards the Eyrie.

"The Eyrie. They say it's impregnable." Tyrion said, gazing at the principal stronghold of House Arryn. The screen panning out to show the humongous structure in all its glory.

Daenerys marvelled at the sight. "It's so beautiful."

"Amazing, I can see why they say it's impregnable." Sam said.

«Is that where you were fostered father? With Robert Baratheon, right?" Arya prodded.

Ned smiled fondly. "Yes, King Robert and I fostered under Jon Arryn. Spent most of my youth roaming those halls." He could still remember those days when he and Robert sparred in the courtyard, under Jon's vigilant eye, without a care in the world. Too bad it couldn't last.

Bronn snorted. "Give me 10 good men and some climbing spikes... I'll impregnate the bitch."

Tyrion chuckled. "I like you."

Their casual bantering got a round of chuckles and some eye-rolls.

[Ned is walking through a courtyard at King's Landing, heading for King Robert's chambers. He is stopped by a royal steward.]

"Lord Stark, your presence has been requested in the small council chamber. A meeting has been called."

"I need to see the King first- alone." Ned said.

"The King is at the small council meeting, my Lord. He has summoned you."

"Is it about my wife?" Ned asked warily.

"No, my Lord. I believe it concerns Daenerys Targaryen." The Steward replied.

"Me?" Daenerys looked surprised and a little worried.

Tyrion frowned. "Oh, so it wasn't about my capture after all."

"That's good though, isn't it, now father will have more time to deal with it." Sansa said.

"I'm not sure." Sam replied. "The Nights watchman said everyone would know about it before long. It's difficult to hide something like that, especially when the public is already whispering about it."

Tyrion nodded to the assessment. "If its concerning Daenerys, then the King has probably heard about her marrying the Dothraki Khal."

Ned grew concerned at that. If what he said was true, then the girl could be in danger. Robert wouldn't hesitate to send assassins after dragon spawn, be they an old man or infant.

[Now at the small council meeting with everyone on the council, as well as King Robert.]

"The whore is pregnant." Roberts' voice rumbled.

They winced at the harsh tone.

"You're speaking of murdering a child."

"I warned you this would happen. Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want'em dead, mother and child both. And that fool, Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them both dead."

"But that's not right!" Jon hissed.

Sandor scoffed. "I don't think he cares much for what's right, boy."

Sansa glanced over to Daenerys who was sitting next to her, shaking slightly, and grabbed her hand to comfort her a little, which gained her a trembling smile.

"You'll dishonor yourself forever if you do this." Ned gritted out.

"Honor?! I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule! One King, Seven Kingdoms. Do you think honor keeps them in line? Do you think it's honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear! Fear and blood!" Robert shouted, face turning a nasty shade of red and expression furious.

"Then we're no better than the Mad King." Ned shouted back.

She was growing increasingly worried for her husband's safe being. Whenever a matter of honor rose, he would plant himself in the ground and wouldn't budge an inch. But this was the King he was talking to, he had to guard his tongue, no matter if they were old friends.

Robert hissed. "Careful, Ned. Careful now."

"You want to assassinate a girl... Because the Spider heard a rumor?"

"No rumor, my Lord. The princess is with child." Varys supplied.

"Based on whose information?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont. He is serving as adviser to the Targaryens." Varys replied.

They gasped.

"That little-"Jon gritted his teeth.

"So, he's spying on her." Bronn said.

"Mormont?" Ned scoffed. "You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?"

"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honorable man." Baelish said.

"He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?" Ned couldn't help the anger that began boiling up inside him.

"And if he's right? If she has a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army… What then?"

"The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water."

Robb voiced his agreement. "That's right, the Dothraki have never crossed the seas."

"Do nothing? That's your wise advice? Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores?" Robert looked to the other council members. "You're my council? Counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool."

Varys was the first to speak. "I understand your misgivings, my Lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet, we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed."

Pycelle spoke next. "I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

"The old man does have a point there." Theon said and got a glare from Jon. "What, don't look at me like that, it's true."

"And it wouldn't be the first time someone has done such either." Tyrion added. "It's true that the likelihood of the Dothraki invading is almost none, but if it were to happen, they would ravage and plunder and rape throughout Westeros, thousands would die."

"We should have had them both killed years ago." Renly barked haughtily.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it." Baelish said, adding in his own metaphor and Varys rolled his eyes.

Ned stood then and stared into Roberts eyes with a steely determination. "I followed you into war - twice, without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."

"Bloody coward." Tormund grumbled.

"Ned…" Catelyn said worriedly. She agreed with him wholeheartedly, but he was still talking to the King.

"She dies." Robert ground out, his voice low and final.

"Then I will have no part in it."

"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You'll do as I command, or I'll find me a Hand who will." Robert said.

Ned removed his badge of authority and tossed it on the table in front of Robert. "And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man." Ned said before turning his back and walking away.

Tormund nodded approvingly.

"You're a braver man than I, Lord Stark. Few would dare stand against the King, old friends or not." Tyrion said, voice laced with respect.

"I will do what is right."

Daenerys almost felt like crying. She was grateful that at least one man was willing to stand up for her, especially remembering what her father had done to the Starks. He truly is an honorable man.

Robert stood, outraged and livid. "Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you. Go! Run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this? Too proud and honorable? This is a war!"

Sansa gasped and looked between her father and the outraged King, and Arya shuffled closer to Ned.

Jon and Robb could feel their admiration and respect rise for their father, and even Theon watched with a hint of reverence.

[Ned is in his chambers quickly packing his things.]

"I'll go ahead with my daughters. Get them ready. Do it yourself. Don't ask anyone for help." Ned told Jory.

"Right away, my Lord. Lord Baelish is here for you."

Baelish came in. "His Grace went on about you at some length after you took your leave. The word "treason" was mentioned."

They winced.

"What can I do for you?" Ned asked.

"When do you return to Winterfell?"

"Why? What do you care?" Ned turned to look at the man.

"If you're still here come nightfall, I'll take you to see the last person Jon Arryn spoke with before falling ill. If that sort of thing still interests you."

"Another person? First his squire, then the blacksmith. I wonder who it'll be this time." Theon said.

"I don't have the time." Ned went back to packing his belongings.

"It won't take more than an hour. But as you please." Baelish conceded and exits the room.

Ned thinks better of it. "Round up all the men we have and station them outside the girls' chambers. Who are your best two swords?"

"Heward and Wyl." Jory replies.

"Find them and meet me at the stables." Ned says and takes off after Baelish.

[At the Eyrie, Catelyn, her men, and Tyrion are all standing in front of Lady Arryn. Her son is sitting on her lap, breastfeeding.]

"Is- is he being breastfed?" Jon had to take a double take of the sight, not sure if he saw correctly.

"What in the name of the Seven-" Theon looked confused.

"Isn't he a bit too old for that kind of thing." Sam asked, looking to the others for confirmation.

"Aye…" Robb looked disturbed. Unless he was mistaken, that was his cousin Robert Arryn. Isn't he almost the same age as Bran?

On the other side of the room, Tormund leaned in closer to Bronn, Tyrion and the Hound. "Want to know why they call me giantsbane?"

Davos cocked an eyebrow.

"I killed a giant when I was ten. Then I climbed into bed with his wife."

"…what?"

"And when she woke up, she suckled me at her teat for three months, thinking I was a baby. That's how I got so strong." Tormund leaned back with a smug smile.

Not knowing how to respond to that they turned back to the screen.

Lysa looked scandalized. "You bring him here without permission? You pollute my home with his presence?" She looked at her son, suckling at her teet. "Your aunt has done a bad thing, Robin, a very bad thing. You remember her, don't you?" She asked before turning back to address Catelyn.

"Isn't he beautiful? And strong too. Jon knew it. His last words were the seed is strong. He wanted everyone to know what a good, strong boy his son would grow up to be. Look at him, the Lord of all the Vale."

"He looks like a he'd fall over from his own fart." Sandor said derisively.

"Lysa, you wrote me about the Lannisters, warning me t-"She was cut off by a further outraged Lysa.

"To stay away from them! Not to bring one here!"

"Mommy? Is that the bad man?" Robin piped up.

"It is."

"He's little."

"What an astute observation."

"He's Tyrion the Imp of House Lannister. He killed your father. He murdered the Hand of the King!"

Tyrion threw his hands up. "Again, why am I being accused by everyone for everything."

Tyrion merely smiled at the accusation. "Oh? Did I kill him too? I've been a very busy man."

"You will watch your tongue! These men are Knights of the Vale. Every one of them loved Jon Arryn. Every one of them would die for me."

"If any harm comes to me, my brother, Jaime, will see that they do." Tyrion countered.

"You can't hurt us! No one can hurt us here! Tell him, mommy! Tell him!" Robin shouted and the room grew deathly quiet.

Robb actually cringed at the outburst. This kid was just so- so bratty. His behaviour was plain shameful.

"Shh... Shh... Shh, my sweet boy. He's just trying to frighten us. Lannisters are all liars. No one will hurt my baby." Catelyn looked at her sister as if seeing her for the first time.

"Mommy… I want to see the bad man fly."

Lysa narrowed her eyes at Tyrion. "Perhaps you will, my little love."

"I've heard that dwarfs have magic cocks, but I've never 'eard about them flying before." Bronn said.

Tyrion glared. "That's because we don't."

"This man is my prisoner. I will not have him harmed." Catelyn said firmly.

"Ser Vardis, my sister's guest is weary. Take him down below so he can rest. Introduce him to Mord."

Catelyn was more than a little stunned at her sisters behavior. She had always been a bit emotionally unstable and easily angered, but this was something else entirely.

[Mord throws Tyrion into one of the skycells.]

"You go sleep, dwarf man. Sleep good, little dwarf. man!" The hunchback giggled maniacally before locking the door behind himself.

Jon could just vagualy make out Lord Tyrion grumbling something about hunchbacked retards and someone called 'Orson the Beetleslayer'.

[Back in King's Landing, inside Renly Baratheon's chambers. He is sitting, shirtless, with Loras Tyrell kneeling beside him shaving his chest.]

Everyone looked appalled by the scene except Sansa who blushed at the sight of the two handsome shirtless lords.

"Lord Stark's lucky he still has a head." Loras said.

"Robert will rant for a few days, but he won't do anything. He adores the man."

"You're jealous."

"Are you sure this won't hurt?" Renly said, eyes darting nervously to the small blade held in Loras' hand.

"Only if I slip."

"And you prefer me like this?" Renly asked unsure.

Loras bit his lip. "Mhmm."

Theon looked ready to vomit at the sight.

"If you want hairless, maybe you should find a little boy." Renly muttered.

"I want you."

"My brother thinks that anyone who hasn't been to war isn't a man. He treats me as if I'm a spoiled child." Loras gave him a look. "Oh, and you're not? Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers? How many wars have you fought in? Oh, and how much did your father spend on that armor of yours?"

"If you want Robert to treat you like a man, you should act in a way befitting one. He won't be impressed by your jousting skills or fancy clothing… or whatever this is." Ned said.

"Hold still."

Renly sighed. "All I ever hear from Robert and Stannis is how I'm not tough enough, how I squirm at the sight of blood."

"You did vomit when that boy's eye was knocked out in the mêlée." Loras replied.

"His eye was dangling out of the damn socket!"

"He shouldn't have entered the mêlée if he didn't know how to fight." Loras answered.

"Easy for you to say. Not everyone is such a gifted swordsman."

"It's not a gift. No one gave it to me. I'm good because I work at it - every day of my life since I could hold a stick."

That's right. Jon thought to himself. Even someone who doesn't have any talent can become skilled with the blade if they put enough effort into it.

Renly looked away. "I could work at fighting all day, every day, and still never be as good as you."

"Yes well, I guess we'll never know." Loras finished with Renly's chest, then raised his arm so he can shave his armpit.

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere." Loras rebutted. "So how did it end up? The Targaryen girl will die?"

"It needs to be done, unpleasant as it is. Robert's rather tasteless about it. Every time he talks about killing her, I swear the table rises six inches." Renly joked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arya asked innocently.

"I- it's nothing. Don't pay it any attention."

"It's a shame he can't muster the same enthusiasm for his wife."

"He does have a deep, abiding lust for her money. You have to give it to the Lannisters, they may be the most pompous, ponderous cunts the gods ever suffered to walk the world, but they do have outrageous amounts of money."

"Well, he's not wrong there." Bronn murmured.

"I have an outrageous amount of money." Loras countered.

"Not as much as the Lannisters."

"But a lot more than you." Loras replied and Renly sighed again.

"Robert's threatening to take me hunting with him. Last time we were out there for two weeks, tramping through the trees in the rain, day after day. All so he can stick his spear into something's flesh! Oh. but Robert loves his killing. And he's the King."

"Hmm... How did that ever happen?"

"Because he loves his killing and he used to be good at it."

Loras looked at him conspiratorially. "Do you know who should be King?"

Renly scoffed. "Be serious."

"I am." Loras replied. "My father could be your bank. I've never fought in a war before, but I'd fight for you."

"I'm fourth in line."

"And where was Robert in the line of royal succession? Joffrey is a monster. Tommen is eight."

"Stannis?" Renly asked and Loras scoffed derisively.

"Stannis has the personality of a lobster."

"He's still my older brother."

Ned shook his head at the absurdity of this conversation. "Stannis is just and honourable, he is a good man and would no doubt make a good kind. If the King were to pass away in an accident any time soon, then the safest bet would be to instate Stannis as regent until the heir comes of age."

"And besides, having the personality of a lobster is not a valid enough reason to remove Stannis from the line of succession." Davos said.

Loras cuts Renly under his arm and Renly gasps.

"What are you doing?!"

"Look at it." Loras said.

"You cut me!" Renly looked almost at the verge of tears.

The hound spat on the ground. "The brother of the Demon of the Trident, ready to shit himself at the sight of a little blood. Bah!"

"It's just blood. We've all got it in us. Sometimes a little spills. If you become King, you're going to see a lot of this. You need to get used to it. Go on. Look. People love you. They love to serve you because you're kind to them. They want to be near you." Loras stood, grabbing Renly's hand and bringing him up to stand as well. "You're willing to do what needs to be done, but you don't gloat over it. You don't love killing. Where is it written that power is the sole province of the worst? That thrones are only made for the hated and the feared." Loras slid down to his knees and undid Renly's trousers. "You would be a wonderful King."

Jon and Robb were gagging at this point and even Sam looked disgusted.

Theon gagged. "My fucking eyes hurt just from seeing that."

"Ugh, we did not need to see that." Tyrion said.

"I don't understand how this could help us in saving the future from the White Walkers in any way, shape or form." Davos muttered averting his eyes from the screen.

"I guess we could exploit our knowledge of their relationship if any conflict against the Stormlands or the Reach arises, but not much else.

[Cersei enters King Robert's chambers.]

"I'm sorry your marriage to Ned Stark didn't work out. You seemed so good together." She said with a smirk, folding her hands and walking around to sit opposite of her husband.

"I'm glad I could do something to make you happy." Robert muttered, mood downcast.

"Without a Hand, everything will fall to pieces." She began.

"I suppose this is where you tell me to give the job to your brother Jaime." He replied, taking a sip of his wine.

"He knows her well, but not as well as I. She probably wants father to take the place, she was always eager to get into his good graces." Tyrion said.

"No. He's not serious enough. I'll say this for Ned Stark - he's serious enough. Was it really worth it? Losing him this way?"

"I don't know." Robert stood then and walked to the balcony to look out over the gardens. "But I do know this, if the Targaryen girl convinces her horse-lord husband to invade and the Dothraki horde crosses The Narrow Sea... We won't be able to stop them."

"The Dothraki don't sail. Every child knows that. They don't have discipline. They don't have armor. They don't have siege weapons."

He sighed. "It's a neat little trick you do, you move your lips and your father's voice comes out."

"Is my father wrong?"

Robert turned to look at her. "Let's say Viserys Targaryen lands with forty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. We hole up in our castles, a wise move. Only a fool would meet the Dothraki in an open field. They leave us in our castles. They go from town to town, looting and burning, killing every man who can't hide behind a stone wall, stealing all our crops and livestock, enslaving all our women and children. How long do the people of the Seven Kingdoms stand behind their absentee King, their cowardly King hiding behind high walls? When do the people decide that Viserys Targaryen is the rightful monarch after all."

Ned grimaced. Robert had always had a knack for battle and war strategy.

She thought that one through. "We still outnumber them."

"Which is the bigger number - five or one?" Robert asked.

"Five."

"Five..." Robert held up five fingers. "one." He held up a fist. "One army, a real army, united behind one leader with one purpose. Our purpose died with the Mad King. Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse. And everybody wants something different. Your father wants to own the world. Ned Stark wants to run away and bury his head in the snow."

"What do you want?" Robert held up a cup of wine as his answer.

"We haven't had a real fight in nine years. Back-stabbing doesn't prepare you for a fight. And that's all the realm is now, back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing. Sometimes I don't know what holds it together." He grumbled.

"…Our marriage."

They broke out into laughter, amused at such a silly notion.

His laughter died down and Robert looked a bit brighter than before. "Ah, so here we sit, seventeen years later, holding it all together. Don't you get tired?"

"Every day."

"How long can hate hold a thing together?"

"Well, seventeen years is quite a long time."

He raised his cup. "Yes, it is."

"Yes, it is." There was a pause as they drank from their cups. "What was she like?"

Ned felt a pang of sorrow at the mention of his sister and the memory of her lying in her bed, bleeding out with a babe in her arms came to mind. He instinctively glanced towards Jon.

Robert looked a bit surprised at her question. "You've never asked about her, not once. Why not?"

"At first, just saying her name, even in private felt like I was breathing life back into her. I thought if I didn't talk about her, she'd just fade away for you. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I refused to ask out of spite. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I cared enough to ask. And eventually it became clear that my spite didn't mean anything to you, as far as I could tell, you actually enjoyed it."

"So why now?" He said solemnly.

"What harm could Lyanna Stark's ghost do to either of us that we haven't done to each other a hundred times over?"

Robert leaned forward and looked her in the eyes. "You want to know the horrible truth? I can't even remember what she looked like. I only know she was the one thing I ever wanted... Someone took her away from me, and Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind."

"I felt something for you once, you know?"

He looked down. "I know."

A soft, almost sorrowful, melody started playing. "Even after we lost our first boy - for quite a while, actually. Was it ever possible for us? Was there ever a time, ever a... moment?"

"No… Does that make you feel better or worse?"

She met his eyes honestly. "It doesn't make me feel anything."

Daenerys felt a twinge of sympathy. "I feel kind of bad for them."

"Me too." Sansa agreed. "It's sad that their marriage should be such an unhappy one."

"During Robert's rebellion- "Catelyn began. "Marriages were used as a way to procure allies."

"But you and father are happy together though." Arya said and Catelyn smiled.

"Yes, we've grown to love one another during our time together." She said and gave Ned a peck on the cheek.

[Inside one of Baelish's brothels, Ned is speaking to one of the prostitutes. Jory and Baelish are in the next room.]

"She looks healthy enough to me. The girl shall want for nothing." Ned told the woman before breaking off from the whore and entering the same room as Baelish and Jory.

"Is that who you Baelish wanted father to meet?" Robb asked.

"Probably another one of the King's bastards." Theon said.

"Brothels make a much better investment than ship, I've found. Whores rarely sink." Baelish said.

"What do you know of King Robert's bastards?"

"Well, he has more than you, for a start."

Jon clenched his fist at that.

"How many?" Ned asked.

"Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents."

"And Jon Arryn tracked them all down. Why?"

"He was the King's Hand." Baelish ventured. "Perhaps Robert wanted them looked after. He was overcome with fatherly love."

Ned held his gaze for a second before beaconing for Jory to follow. Jory, however, was distractedly eyeing one of the whores who flashed him a breast.

"Oh, now that's a sight to feast your eyes upon." Bronn said.

"Is that Ros?" Theon looked a bit surprised at her sudden appearance.

Upon noticing that his guard wasn't following, Ned looked back to see what was taking Jory so long.

"Jory!" Ned barked annoyed and Jory broke from his stupor to follow after his Lord hurriedly.

The guys snickered at Jory getting caught.

Just as they leave the establishment and prepare to depart, a small contingent of Lannister men led by Jaime encircles them.

"Damn, this looks bad." Robb muttered.

"Such a small pack of wolves." Jaime said arrogantly.

"Stay back, Ser! This is the Hand of the King!" Jory warned.

"Was the Hand of the King." Jaime replied. "Now I'm not sure what he is... Lord of somewhere very far away."

Just then Baelish came out of the brothel. "What's the meaning of this, Lannister?"

"Get back inside where it's safe." Jaime ordered before returning his attention to Ned. "I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man." Jaime's mouth twitched upwards, but Ned didn't seem amused in the slightest.

Tyrion was delighted to see Jaime come on his behalf, but he desperately hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid either. If Lord Stark was killed, then his own life was forfeit. Catelyn would not hesitate to avenge her husband.

"I remember him well."

"It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn't know what happened to him, would you?"

"He was taken at my command to answer for his crimes."

Jaime drew his sword, smile draining away and face becoming deadly serious, causing all of them men on both sides to draw their swords, except for Eddard.

They straightened in their seats awaiting the oncoming altercation. Jon could feel a knot of dread in his stomach. Father might be a good swordsman, but they're outmanned and then there's the Kingslayer. He's said to be one of the best in the Seven Kingdoms.

"My Lords! I'll bring the City Watch!" Peter said and Jaime shrugged, not caring in the least.

"Come, Stark. I'd rather you die sword in hand."

Jory took a step forward. "If you threaten my Lord again..."

"Threaten?" Jaime cut him off. "As in, I'm going to open your Lord from balls to brains and see what Starks are made of?"

"You kill me, your brother's a dead man."

"You're right. Take him alive! Kill his men!" Jaime ordered and the battle began.

One of the Lannister guard threw a spear, piercing one of the start guardsmen through the chest while others charged. Ned draws his sword and swiftly blocks a sword, before bringing his own down on the man before him. Next to him, Jory grabs the spear of one of the incoming Lannister men, parrying it into a man charging on him from behind, then stabbing his sword through the spearman's gut.

"Come on, father, Jory, please don't get killed." Robb muttered under his breath.

While Ned is disposing of some of the guards, Jory moves toward Jaime, swinging his sword in a overhead strike, which is easily blocked by Jaime. The swords lock at the hilts and Jaime draws a small knife from his side before plunging it into Jory's left eye.

They gasped.

"Damn it!" Jon cursed.

"Fuck, Jory." Robb gritted his teeth. He wished he was there. He wished so desperately that he could go out there and help them.

Ned sees Jaime push Jory's lifeless corpse to the ground and realizes his on his own.

Arya felt tears prickle at the corner of her eyes and she grabbed onto Ned for comfort.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, he engages Jaime in a heated duel.

They swing their blades at full force, cutting and hacking away at each other. The metallic clinking of their sword singing throughout the clearing. The guards watch the duel with amazement. Two renowned swordsmen locked in a clash of steel and will.

Both Sandor and Tormund were watching the match unblinkingly. Paying rapt attention to each swing of their blades, every block, and every parry. It was clear to see that Lord Stark was on the losing side of this battle. Though not unskilled by any means, he was still outmatched in this fight.

The two fend each other off for a while, but as they break, one of Jaime's guards' stabs Ned in the back of the leg with a spear, causing him to fall to the ground.

"Ned!"/"Father!"

Jon shot out of his seat, looking outraged. "He stabbed him from the back!"

"Coward!" Robb hissed.

Ned grits his teeth, letting no cries of pain escape his mouth, and does his utmost to keep from collapsing to the ground.

Jaime looks shocked before frustration makes itself clear on his face and he hits the spearman in the face with the hilt of his sword, making the man tumble to the ground.

"My brother, Lord Stark... We want him back."

With that Jaime rides off on horseback and his guards follow suit.

AN:

Hello guys! I'm finally back with another chapter.

I've been very busy with university and work, so it's been hard to find any time to write. I'm not really too happy about how this chapter turned out and I apologize if the quality of isn't as good as the previous ones, but this chapter has been a nightmare to write. Also, it's been a while since I wrote anything so I'm a bit out of practice

I might rewrite it based on how it sounds to my ears when I listen to it. It's a lot easier to judge whether or not you're able to convey what you wanted to after having heard it for yourself. Either way, I'm just happy to be done with this one and move on to a more exciting episode.

On another topic, this fic has hit over 600 favourites and 700 follows, and has almost 100k views, which is amazing. I enjoyed reading all the positive comments, it's nice to know that people appreciate the effort I put into these chapters.

It might take a while until the next chapter, but I'll try to update as soon as possible.

~Zenix404~