Chapter 15
Ned stirred awake as dawn’s golden light streamed in through the half-closed shutters of his bedchamber. Grunting as he turned his head to the side, Ned opened his eyes to see Triss to his left, with her face buried in the pillows of their bed. For a moment, his eye followed the ample curves of her sleeping form appreciatively, before turning to his other side where Yennefer was decidedly absent from the bed.
Ned raised his head to look about his bedchambers for his raven-haired lover, but his ears found her before his eyes did. Yennefer was moving parchment and muttering to herself in Ned’s solar. Content to leave her as she was, Ned rested his head back on his pillows. Thoughts of the night before came to him, not of Triss and Yennefer, but of Yoren, the Night’s Watchman who’d told him what his wives had done. Taking the queen’s brother hostage was certain to cause issues. He only hoped that it would be a secret for a while longer.
Turning to Triss again, Ned was all too aware of the growing hardness between his legs that came with most mornings. He pulled their blanket down, exposing both his and Triss’s nude bodies. Ned marvelled at her smooth, unblemished skin and her bright red hair, still in a messy bun from the night before, when he had taken both Triss and Yennefer to bed again.
In the absence of his wives, it had become an common occurrence. Yennefer had sometimes joked that he had lookalike replacements for his wives when he was apart from them.
Ned grinned to himself as he reached across and took two handfuls of Triss’s fleshy, freckled arse, slowly spreading the pale globes of flesh. After all these years of Triss being one of his lovers, he had incredibly intimate knowledge of her body. All of it’s nooks and crannies, where to press to make her sing…
Like most Mages, Triss had beauty that could make men weep. She had wide, child-bearing hips and a tiny waist, giving her a gorgeous, heart shaped arse. Her round arse was balanced out by her sizeable chest, breasts that Ned had used many times.
Still half asleep, Ned rose to his knees on the bed and stuffed his face into Triss’s arse. She smelled divine, there was enough there that Ned could probably dine on her thick arse for the rest of the day. Ned’s hungry, eager kisses soon had Triss moaning into her pillow and shifting in place, arching her back so Ned would have greater access.
“Now that’s how I love to be woken up.” Triss moaned, lifting her head from the pillows before letting it fall back down. Ned could see Triss biting down on her lip and clutching the bedsheets as he worked his tongue over her arse, and a number of fingers into her sopping cunt.
“Well, after your performance last night, you deserve a reward.” Ned chuckled, before going back to pleasure her.
“Damn right, I do…” she moaned again. Triss had been a real animal in bed the night before. She kept begging Ned to give her his seed, he half suspected that she wished to have a child from him, like Yennefer and Sabrina had. Ned was all too happy to give her one… or two… or more…
A satisfied grin spread across Triss’s face as she began to shiver gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white. She pushed back to meet his fingers, mindlessly lifting her hips right off the bed and leaving a puddle of her pleasure where she had been lying on her belly. Ned could feel her cunt throbbing around his fingers as he worked them deeper inside her.
“You feel so good Ned…” Triss crooned, shifting her hips from side to side. Ned easily kept pace with her, slipping his fingers in and out of her cunt with well-practiced ease. Ned chuckled to himself as he carefully slid his fingers in and out of her while she whimpered in delight, quivering around him.
Triss knew what to do. She didn’t even have to be guided up onto her knees. Ned, grinning widely, slapped his palm across Triss’s freckled arse, delighting in how it wobbled. She whined in response, biting her lip, her face only half-buried in the pillow. Ned struck her again, then again.
When he grew tired of turning her arse as red as her hair, Ned positioned himself behind Triss, lining his throbbing cock towards her cunt. Taking a firm hold of her hips, Ned slammed every inch of his cock directly into her womb. Triss let out a half-scream, muffled by the pillow, as she quivered around his cock.
“Mine.” Ned growled, pulling back and slamming his cock inside her again.
The collision of his hips against Triss’s arse sent ripples along her flesh. Her cunt clenched around him as her fingers curled into their silk sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Ned continued to pound away as Triss whined and trembled, his balls bouncing against her thick thighs as they clapped together.
“Harder!” Triss mewled, she was gripping the pillow and thrusting back to meet Ned’s cock.
Ned gave a deep growl as he pushed Triss harder down onto the bed, leaning over her, thrusting deeper into her cunt. He was dominating her body with his own, as he had thousands of times before. He had a thought.
“I think it’s time I used some of those skills you’ve been teaching me.” Ned chuckled, Triss could only moan in response.
Triss had been teaching him telekinesis recently, through diligent practice, Ned had found a way to use that magic to pleasure a woman. All it took was some concentration and a little touch over her cunt, and Triss was brought to a screaming, quivering wreck as she climaxed around him, again and again.
Ned was glad for the pillow, or they might have heard Triss all the way back in Winterfell. There was a certain spot inside a woman’s cunt that would turn their legs boneless and their minds blank with pleasure.
Ned knew that by focusing his telekinesis on that spot, he could instantly turn a woman into a quivering puddle of pleasure. Seeing such a powerful mage be brought to such an undignified position almost made Ned spend himself right there.
“Gods…” Triss moaned, weakly, after some time for her to recover. Ned had slowed his thrusts to a crawl, easing in and out of her slowly. “That was…”
“Better than before?” Ned leaned down and thrust deep inside her again.
“Yes!” Triss nearly squawked. “Yes! You’re getting better and better at that… You must have an excellent teacher.” She laughed, Ned joined her.
“I feel if you had been one of my teachers, you would have been my favourite.” He leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder, eliciting a giggle.
“I feel,” Triss breathed as Ned filled her again. “If I had been one of your teachers, you would have spent more time fucking me over your desk, than learning.”
“Likely.” Ned laughed in response. “Are you ready to continue?”
“Even more so.” Triss grinned up at him, she then spoke a small incantation and a blue, ethereal cock appeared above Ned’s own, a pretty exact copy. It was certainly a strange feeling. “You’ll feel everything that cock does.” Triss reached back to stroke it, proving her point. “Now you can take both my holes at once!”
Ned angled both of the cocks towards her eager holes, then thrust. If Triss’s head hadn’t been buried in the pillow, her screams would have woken up the whole castle. Ned let out a deep grunt as the feelings of her spasming cunt and arse enveloped him.
It was a completely new feeling, taking both of her holes at once. The sensations were doubled. Ned could feel her cunt and arse clamping down on his throbbing cocks with wanton desire, begging him for his seed.
Ned quickly found his rhythm again, pumping away ad the red haired mage’s holes, filling her to bursting point as she shook and moaned around him. She was his, to use as he pleased, mewling happily as he rained blows down on her arse-cheeks again.
“This was a great idea.” Ned panted, working his hips back and forth. “How does it feel?”
Triss could only hoarsely moan in response, all strength was leaving her as Ned ploughed her like a field. Their bed began to shake and move beneath them, the force of Ned’s thrusting sending reverberations through the strong wooden frame.
Ned hoped they wouldn’t break the bed… Again…
“yOU FeeL So GOod!” Triss whined, her voice, weakly trembling. “I LoVE YOuR cOckS!”
“When your parents sent you off to the magic academy in Winterfell, do you think they even imagined that you would end up a whore for the Stark of Starks?”
“YES! I’m your WHORE!” Triss moaned. “Ravage me! PUT ME IN MY PLACE!”
Ned determinedly ploughed Triss through her barely coherent screams of pleasure, thrusting back and forth as her pleasure leaked onto the bed. Soon enough, Triss’s words became formless babbling as Ned’s hips clapped against her meaty arse again and again.
Her legs kicked out, her toes curling, her hands gripping the pillow so hard Ned thought she might tear through it. That, coupled with the increasingly spasming and contracting he felt around the twin cocks, told Ned that Triss was coming to a rapturous end.
Her cunt sent forth a tidal wave of her pleasure, bringing Ned to a roaring end. He thrust every inch of his cock inside the well-fucked mage, seeding her womb. Her holes milked his cock for all it’s worth. Triss was shaking and quivering beneath him as Ned kept the whole length of his cock inside her.
Panting and coated in sweat, the pair stayed as they were on the bed for a time, before Ned rose from his lover and walked out of the room.
Ned left his bedchambers, still naked and shining with a mixture of sweat and Triss’ pleasure from bedding her a few moments earlier. Walking out into his darkened solar, he saw that the curtains and shutters remained closed, the only light was coming from the candles strewn about the room.
Yennefer was wearing one of his robes, completely open and hanging loosely from her shoulders, most likely from the heat of King’s Landing. She was pouring over stacks of parchment amongst many piles of wooden crates.
“What are you doing, Yen?” Ned asked as he narrowly avoided banging his foot against a wooden crate that stood in his way. Yennefer looked up when she heard his voice. There were bags under her eyes and her raven curls were in a thick mess.
“Well…” she began. “After you and Triss fell asleep, I had a thought and called for the former Master of Coin’s records. One of these crates has a list of how much money Littlefinger withdrew from the crown treasury last year and how much money the crown spent. I’m looking for any inconsistencies between the two.”
“You suspect him of embezzlement?” Considering other aspects of his character, Ned would not have doubted for a second that Petyr Baelish would have stolen from the realm when he was able.
“Perhaps…”
“…Were you here all night?” Ned asked, walking over to the windows of his solar.
“Is it day time?” Yennefer barely looked up from her papers.
“The sun is rising.” Ned said as his pulled back the curtains and threw open the shutters, letting the sun’s rays fill the room with light. He saw Yennefer cringe away, holding her hand over her eyes as she turned her head back to the parchment.
“Usually, when I stay up all night i’m able to pass a transmogrification exam,” Yennefer said in a half-laugh, before she paused. “Ned…”
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to have to take a transmogrification exam am I?” There was almost a tinge of fear in Yennefer’s eye at the thought of having to go back to being a student at the Winterfell magical academy. Ned would be lying if he’d never had nightmares about having to learn from his father’s druid with his siblings and the other noble children of the North.
“No…” He answered.
“Good…” Yennefer seemed relieved. “Because in one of these crates are lists of all of Littlefinger’s financial transactions with the ‘Half-Moon’ Tyroshi trading cartel.” Looking around at all the crates, Ned had a thought.
“May I ask you something?”
“I had a plan.” Yennefer said, sternly.
“When you said, "In one of these crates..."?”
“I had a plan.” She repeated, lifting a crate from the top of a pile and taking it over to Ned’s desk. “Each crate is numbered. There's a piece of parchment with a number and a corresponding description of the contents of each crate.”
“And where is the parchment?” In response, Yennefer heavily dropped the crate onto his desk, turned to him slowly and looked at him as if he’d just asked her if water was wet. “It's in one of these crates…” Realisation dawned on Ned.
“I had a plan…” Yennefer repeated, ruefully. “I miss the snow...”
“I can make you some snow.” Ned ventured.
“It’s not the same… I miss the North, I miss our daughter. I could teach at the academy, it was nice, it was cool, and I always did well on my transmogrification exam until you came along and told me to come south because we had to save the king.”
“I never said you-“
“-Yes you did. After we’re finished here, i’m done with the South!”
“You and me both.” Ned chuckled, before stepping closer to Yennfer, taking her hands in his own. “However, in all seriousness, you need to get some sleep.”
“I can't yet.” Yennefer told him. “Because in one of these crates are receipts and letters from the Iron bank, and in one of these crates is a piece of parchment which says which crate it's in!” The door to the solar opened slightly and Yennefer whirled around, pointing a finger at the it. “If that’s more crates of lists, I will smite you! With the power of a Thousand Gods! and a Million suns!”
The door stopped, as if it was too afraid to open all the way. “…A Small Council session has been called, My Prince.” Perkins said, almost timidly from behind the door. “By the king.” He added. That was certainly surprising news, Robert hadn’t sat in on a council meeting since before Ned had arrived.
“It seems we have more pressing matters to deal with.” Ned said as he walked over to his wardrobe.
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“Robert, I beg of you,” Ned pleaded, “hear what you’re saying. You are talking of murdering a child.”
“The whore is just shy of twenty! And she’s pregnant!” The Robert’s fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap, Foebreaker sparked angrily as it lay in the centre of the table. “I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you’ll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, with her sisters and mother as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”
The other councillors were all doing their best to pretend that they were somewhere else, apart from Yennefer, who was barely awake. No doubt they were all wiser than he was. Ned had seldom felt quite so alone. “You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this.”
“Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck.”
“There is no axe,” Ned told his king. “Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed... If it exists at all.”
“If?” Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. “My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to king and council?”
Ned looked at the eunuch coldly. “You have brought us whisperings from half a world away, my lord.”
“I would not bring this to the king’s attention if I were not sure,” Varys said with a sly smile. “Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.”
“So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not fear…”
“But if it is a boy?” Robert insisted. “If he lives?”
“The narrow sea still lies between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.”
The king took a long gulp of wine and glowered at Ned across the council table. “Do nothing?!? That’s your advice? Do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?”
“This ‘dragonspawn’ is in his mother’s belly,” Ned said. “Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned.”
“Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark.” The king looked around the council table. “You’re my council. Council! Speak sense to this frozen-faced fool?”
Varys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Ned’s sleeve. “I understand your qualms, Prince Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, howevermuch it pains us.”
Lord Renly shrugged. “We ought to have had them all killed years ago, but His Grace my brother made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn.”
“Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly,” Ned replied. “On the Trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert’s friends and mine. After the battle, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said, ‘I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well,’ and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristan’s wounds.” Ned gave the king a long cool look. “If only that man were here today.”
Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same…” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.”
“Whereas Daenerys Targaryen is a girl younger than my oldest sons. A girl who has done us no harm.” Ned knew he was pushing this well past the point of wisdom, yet he could not keep silent in the face of this. Thoughts of Elia’s son… his son, filled his mind. Then there was Rhaenys and the babe that grew in her belly, Ned’s own grandchild. What if Robert were to decide that all the members of house Targaryen were to die? It would not come to that. Ned would raise every man in the North to defend them. “Robert, I ask you… What did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”
“To put an end to Targaryens!” the king growled.
“Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar.” Ned fought to keep the scorn out of his voice, and failed. “Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of his sister’s unborn child?”
Robert went purple. “No more, Ned,” he warned, pointing at Ned in a fury. “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?”
“No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?”
“Enough!” the king bellowed. “I’m sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned. What say you all?”
“She must be killed,” Lord Renly declared.
“We have no choice,” murmured Varys. “Sadly, sadly...”
Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, “Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother’s womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard.”
Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. “My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl his no ill will. Yet I ask you this— should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?” He stroked his long white beard. “Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?”
“Kinder,” Varys said. “Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm would bleed.”
Yennefer was the last, she had used an illusion to make herself more presentable for the meeting, one that only Ned could see through. Where the other councillors saw her as the immaculate and well rested Master of Coin, Ned saw she still wore his robe, still having not bothered to tie it up. She looked tired as she slouched in her chair, trying to stifle a yawn. “I must also agree with the Hand.”
“There’s a surprise.” Renly mumbled into his wine glass.
“Say we try to kill her and fail? Perhaps she has given no thought to taking the Iron Throne? Who’s to say the act of trying to assassinate her won’t set her on a path of attacking Westeros? Besides,” Yennefer continued. “even if she were to come to Westeros, we have dragons, she has none.”
Robert’s face grew sterner as he looked out of the window, Ned knew he was thinking of Stormbreaker and his dragon’s deterioration. Then he turned to Ned. “Well, there it is, Ned. You, your woman and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?”
“Can your spies wield blades?” Renly asked Varys.
“Yes,” Varys answered, “and quite well I might add, yet they are not fools. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor soul who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight.” He stroked a powdered cheek. “Now, poison... The tears of Lys, let us say… Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death.”
Ned did not fail to notice that Grand Maester Pycelle’s sleepy eyes flicked open, squinting suspiciously at the eunuch.
“Poison is a coward’s weapon,” the king complained.
Ned had heard enough, he was beginning to choke on the hypocrisy. “You send hired knives to kill a girl and her unborn babe, yet still quibble about honor?” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least.”
“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. “You mean it, damn you.” He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. “I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.”
“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.”
For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.”
“I wish him every success.” Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.”
Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “Out! Damn you, I’m done with you! What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!”
Ned bowed, and turned on his heel without another word. He could feel Robert’s eyes on his back. Wordlessly, Yennefer rose from her seat to join Ned in solidarity.
The closing of the door behind them silenced the voices of the council. Ser Boros Blount was stationed outside the chamber, wearing the long white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. He gave the pair a quick, curious glance from the corner of his eye, but asked no questions.
The day felt heavy and oppressive as they crossed the bailey back to the Tower of the Hand. He could feel the threat of rain in the air as the thunder rumbled, likely Robert’s doing. Ned would have welcomed it. It might have made him feel a trifle less unclean.
“It seems we are to be done with the south sooner than we both expected?” Yennefer tried to cut the tension as they walked.
“And perhaps we will be happier for it.” Ned answered her. “I would suggest going to your rooms and making ready to leave.”
“As you wish.” Yennefer bowed slightly before turning and setting off to her rooms.
When he reached his solar, he summoned Vayon Poole. The steward came at once. “You sent for me, my lord Hand?”
“Hand no longer,” Ned told him. “The king and I have quarreled. We shall be returning to Winterfell.”
“I shall begin making arrangements at once, my prince. We will need a fortnight to ready everything for the journey.”
“We may not have a fortnight. Perhaps not even a day. The king mentioned something about seeing my head on a spike.” Ned frowned. He did not truly believe the king would harm him, not Robert. He was angry now, but once Ned was safely out of sight, his rage would cool as it always did.
Suddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Near two decades dead, yet Robert hated him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion... And there was the other matter, the business with Cat, Elia and the dwarf that Yoren had warned him of the night before. That would come to light soon, as sure as sunrise, and with the king in such a black fury... Robert might not care for Tyrion Lannister, but it would touch on his pride, and there was no telling what the queen might do.
“It might be safest if I went on ahead,” he told Poole. “My daughters and I will be on dragonback within the hour. The rest of you can follow when you are ready. Inform Harper, Beric and Arthur, but tell no one else, and do nothing until the girls and I have gone. The castle is full of eyes and ears, and I would rather my plans were not known.”
“As you command, my lord.”
When he had gone, Ned went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left him no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be good to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His many children were waiting there, with more on the way, from all three his wives. A soft smile formed when he thought of holding newborn babes again. Of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night, and his pack beside him.
And yet, the thought of leaving angered him as well. So much was still undone. Robert and his council of cravens and flatterers would beggar the realm if left unchecked... or, worse, sell it to the Lannisters in payment of their loans. And the truth of Jon Arryn’s death still eluded him. Oh, he had found a few pieces, enough to convince him that Jon had indeed been murdered by the Lannisters, but that was no more than the spoor of an animal on the forest floor. He had not sighted the beast itself yet, though he sensed it was there, lurking, hidden, treacherous.
It struck him suddenly that he might stop at Dragonstone and speak with Stannis Baratheon. Pycelle had sent a raven off across the water, with a polite letter from Ned requesting Lord Stannis to return to his seat on the small council. As yet, there had been no reply, but the silence only deepened his suspicions. Lord Stannis shared the secret Jon Arryn had died for, he was certain of it. The truth he sought might very well be waiting for him on the ancient island fortress of House Targaryen.
And when you have it, what then? Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust. Ned slid the dagger that his wives had brought him out of the sheath on his belt. The Imp’s knife. The Lannisters had tried to murder his wives…
Could Robert be part of it? He would not have thought so, but once he would not have thought Robert could command the murder of women and children either. Cat had tried to warn him. You knew the man, she had said. The king is a stranger to you. The sooner he was quit of King’s Landing, the better. He and his daughters would ride on the winds back to their home.
Cooper announced a visitor. “Alayaya to see you, My Prince.”
Ned was half-tempted to turn her away and say he had no need of her mother’s spies any more, but he thought better of it. Until King’s Landing was a speck in the distance, he needed to keep playing their games. “Send her in, Cooper.”
The brothel madame’s daughter strutted into Ned’s solar as if it was her own room. She wore a long cloak over a typical whore’s dress, leaving little of her substantial curves to the imagination. She locked eyes with Ned with a smirk.
“I am afraid I have not the time for one of our sessions today.” Ned informed her.
“That is a pity.” She looked him up and down. “I’m here for two reasons: The first is to say my mother and I hunger for your touch.” She giggled, coming close and pressing her monumental chest against him.
“And the second?”
“Your men have been searching for a brothel, correct?” Alayaya asked him. “And though you may not have known it, you were searching for a particular girl in that brothel.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“I can take you to her.”
Ned walked into the makeshift pen they had made to house his Great Eagle, Snowflake. The massive white bird cawed happily when it saw Ned. He fed the bird a piece of meat from his hand.
“I’ve never flown before.” Alayaya said, reverently, he eyes fixed on the great white eagle.
“Snowflake would be much quicker than a horse.” Ned stated.
“But then, every man woman and child in King’s Landing would know where you’re going.” Both turned to see Arthur standing behind them.
“Ser Arthur Dayne.” Alayaya smirked as she curtsied.
“Arthur, good.” Ned began as he walked out of the pen, the other two following him. “You and Beric are to stay with my daughters at all times. Upon my return, we will leave on dragonback.”
“The old wolf and I will keep your pups safe, Stark.” Arthur promised, then paused. “Yennefer told me why you stepped down from your position.” The silence hung in the air. “When Ash first told me of you all those years ago, she talked of you as if you were the best of men… In all the years i’ve known you, you’ve not proved her wrong once.”
“High praise from the Sword of the Morning.”
“Well deserved, I assure you.” With that, Arthur bid them farewell. Ned and Alayaya mounted their horses and rode out into King’s Landing with the Chosen Men following.
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The girl had been so young Ned had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she’d been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I named her Barra,” she said as the child nursed. “She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair...”
“She does.” Ned touched the baby’s fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robert’s firstborn, Mya had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.
“Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it... as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is.”
“I will,” Ned promised her. That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows.
“And tell him I’ve not been with no one else. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new. Chataya said I could have a year, for the baby, and for hoping he’d come back. So you’ll tell him I’m waiting, won’t you? I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. He was always good to me, truly.”
Good to you… Ned thought hollowly. “I will tell him, child, and I promise you, Barra shall not go wanting.”
She smiled then, a smile so tremulous and sweet that it cut the heart out of him. Ned walked into the room he’d left Chataya in, she was wearing a dress of thin silk around her waist, with her torso almost completely bare. All she wore was a necklace of beads and colourful feathers that hung around her bare breasts.
“What do you know of Robert’s bastards?” Ned asked her.
“Well…” The Madame smiled at him. “He has Barra, for a start.”
“How many?”
Chataya shrugged. “Does it matter? If you bed enough women, some will give you presents, and His Grace has never been shy on that count. I know he’s acknowledged that boy at Storm’s End, the one he fathered the night Lord Stannis wed.” She gave Ned a sideways glance. “I’ve also heard whispers from the queen’s maids that the king got a pair of twins on a serving wench at Casterly Rock, three years ago when he went west for Lord Tywin’s tourney. The Queen had the babes killed, and sold the mother to a passing slaver. Too much an affront to Lannister pride, that close to home.”
Ned grimaced. Ugly tales like that were told of every great lord in the realm. He could believe it of Cersei Lannister readily enough... But would Robert stand by and let it happen? The Robert he had known would not have, but the Robert he had known had never been so practiced at shutting his eyes to things he did not wish to see. “Why would Jon Arryn take a sudden interest in the king’s baseborn children?”
“He was the King’s Hand. Perhaps Robert asked him to see that they were provided for.”
“It had to be more than that, or why kill him?”
“I can only tell you what I know, Prince Stark.” Chataya purred, stepping close to him. “Now… For my payment.” She knelt down and unlaced his breeches.
Ned walked down the stairs into the brothel’s common room with Chataya sauntering behind him, wiping his seed from her breasts with his fingers, before putting them in her mouth. By the hearth, Perkins and Alayaya were playing at forfeits. From the look of it, he’d lost his belt, his cloak, his shirt, and his boots so far, while Alayaya had lost one sandal. Harper and Hagman stood beside a rain-streaked window with a wry smile on their faces, watching Perkins turn over tiles and enjoying the view.
Ned paused at the foot of the stair and pulled on his gloves. “It’s time we took our leave. My business here is done.”
“You greedy bitch!” Alayaya called out when she saw Chataya behind him. She quickly scampered over to her mother and began to eagerly lick Ned’s seed from her breasts.
“As you will, My Prince.” Harper said, chuckling as Perkins gathered up his things and they strode to the door.
A warm rain was pelting down from a starless black sky as they walked out of the brothel.
“Will we be going back to the castle now, My Prince?” Cooper asked. Ned nodded as he reached for his horse.
The rain was falling hard, stinging the eyes and drumming against the ground. Rivers of black water were running down the hill when Harper called out, his voice tense with alarm.
In an instant, the street was full of soldiers, all of them were clad head-to-toe in enchanted golden armour, with longswords on their belts, holding spears and shields. Ned knew them to be soldiers from the Gold Legion, with the lions of Lannister roaring proudly on their breastplates. They were Tywin Lannister’s imitation of the Stark’s Winter Wolves, a well equipped and well trained force of magically enhanced soldiers that could be called upon in an instant by their lord. With them, came lions as large as horses, their chained collars held tight by their keepers, along with them came bull-trolls in full plate armour as well.
Ned and his men were silent as their foes poured into the street on both ends, surrounding them. He had no time to count, but Ned knew there were more than thirty of them, against himself and his six Chosen Men. As they had meant to be secret in their mission, none of them were wearing armour, though they did have their weapons, hidden under their thick cloaks. Thundering hooves sounded the arrival of Jaime Lannister on a white horse, wearing the same golden armour as his men.
“Such a small pack of wolves…” He said, arrogantly as he dismounted, Ned could see the rain running down his face.
“Stay back Ser,” Harper summoned his ice blade from it’s hilt, the blade freezing the raindrops that hit it. “this is the Hand of the King.”
“Was the Hand of the King.” The Kingslayer corrected him. “Now i’m not sure what he is. A Prince of somewhere very far away…”
“What’s the meaning of this, Lannister?!” Chataya stepped barefooted out onto the street, her hands on her hips, unashamed of her nudity and unbothered by the rain.
“Get back inside Madame, where it’s safe…” Jaime ordered, before turning back to Ned. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don’t you, Prince Stark? Blonde hair, sharpe tongue… Short man.”
“I remember him well.” Ned replied.
“Seems he had some trouble on the road, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to him would you?”
“Your brother was taken at my command. To answer for Lannister crimes.” Ned said. The Kingslayer drew his golden sword in answer, the rest of his men lowered their spears towards Ned.
“My lords!” Chataya called again, trying to defuse the situation, before seeing that it was a lost cause. “I’ll send for the city watch.” She said loudly, before retreating back inside.
“Come now, Stark…” Jaime goaded him. “I’d rather you died sword in hand.”
“If you threaten Prince Stark again-“ Hagman knocked an enchanted arrow to his ice-bow, the arrow glowing with blue magical energy.
“Threaten?” Jaime interrupted him. “As in: I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and-“ The Kingslayer couldn’t even finish his sentence before Hagman loosed his arrow, aiming directly at the Kingslayer’s face. The blue arrow sailed through the air, swift and true. Metal sang as Jaime deflected the arrow with his blade, sending it spinning before it’s tip buried itself into the cobbles. They all stood in stunned silence at what the Kingslayer was capable of, even the Gold Legion seemed surprised. Hagman’s arrows were not easily blocked. “…Would you like to try that again?” Kingslayer asked, mockingly.
“As you wish, Kingslayer.” Hagman, Cooper, Isiah and Perkins all aimed their arrows at Jaime before Ned raised his arm to stop them. The last thing Ned needed was to escalate the situation further.
“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man…” He told Jaime.
“You’re right.” The Kingslayer considered for a moment. “Take him alive. Kill his men.”
Ned summoned Ice to his hand that instant, the Chosen Men loosed what arrows they had at their enemy, each one striking true. The lions roared as their keepers let go of their chains, sending them speeding towards the Chosen Men.
Ned acted quickly, turning on his heel and beheading the first lion that speed past him with one swing of Ice. Harris put his ice blade through the belly of another lion as it launched itself at him. Ned heard Harper giving a war-cry as he kicked a bull-troll into the wall of the opposite side of the street. Before Ned could look to his men, other foes were on him.
Taking advantage of the heavy rain, Ned froze froze the ground around him. The three Lannister men that came at him slipped right into his wide horizontal strike, cutting them all in two with one swing. Soon enough, another golden armoured man was rushing towards him, only to be felled when a blue arrow embedded itself deep into his helmet.
A lion lunged at Ned, he froze it solid before it could land, then threw the lion at a troll, knocking it to the ground as the lion shattered.
Using telekinesis, Ned lifted the next two men into the air, choking the life from them.
After they fell, Ned only saw Jaime.
For a moment, the world stilled as the two warriors sized each other up. Jaime was on him faster than a lightning bolt, coming in with an upwards strike that would have cut Ned in half from the waist up if he hadn’t dodged.
Ned countered with a thrust that Jaime parried and turned back on him, forcing Ned to retreat. Jaime rained blow after blow down on him. Ned almost felt like he was being attacked by four different men at once. It seemed Jaime had taken to the King’s Guard enhancements particularly well, becoming even stronger and faster than Barristan the Bold.
Arthur wasn’t lying when he told me the Kingslayer had skill.
Ned kept up his ironclad guard, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. Eventually, one came along and sparks flew from the collision of Ice with Jaime’s gold breastplate, leaving a deep gash along the metal as he staggered backwards.
Jaime chuckled as they stood apart for a second. “There are maybe three other men in Westeros who could land a hit on me like that…”
“Having second thoughts?” Ned called out, hoping to end this madness.
“Oh, absolutely not!” He laughed. “This is the best fight i’ve had in years.”
They came together again, this time Ned had the upper hand. He understood Jaime’s patterns better, allowing him to force Jaime onto the back foot. Parry, parry, cut high, counter, thrust. They danced around each other as they went back and forth.
Ned knew Jaime’s sword was magical, with the finest enchantments, but even that was beginning to falter against Ice. The Kingslayer’s sword was beginning to chip along the edges, from repeated strikes. Turning Ice into it’s Greatsword form, Ned used the superior range to keep on the attack, slashing this way and that.
But an overextension and a well placed kick sent Ned flying into the wall behind him, cracking it badly. Jaime lunged at him, embedding his sword deep into the wall where Ned’s stomach had been. Ned used the Kingslayer’s mistake against him, taking him by the head and smashing it against the brick wall a few times. The wall ended up being the more damaged one between the two.
Eventually, Jaime wrenched his sword free, sending the hilt into Ned’s unarmoured stomach, almost making him double over in pain. Ned jumped back to avoid a slash that would have ended him. Then he began to advance on Jaime, forcing him further back. Ned broke an newly formed ice hammer against the Kingslayer’s knee, causing him to stumble back, favouring his leg.
A well placed riposte from the Kingslayer gave them both space.
They were about to clash again, with Jaime swinging down on him from above. Ned rose Ice to block, then suddenly the world shifted and a blinding, fiery pain erupted from Ned’s right thigh. He fell to one knee, dropping his arm and more pain exploded in his left shoulder. His arm felt like it was aflame. The world turned from dark shadows to pure white.
It took everything Ned had not to transform into his wolf form right there. He would tear through all in his path. In the middle of a city full of people, that meant terrible consequences for the innocent citizens that lived there.
He fell to the ground as he vaguely heard someone shouting his name. Then he heard an eagle’s cry, a great wind blew over him and unconsciousness took him. The next thing Ned knew, he was flying through the night. Then the darkness took him again.