[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Kingsland.
...
...
The bells began to ring in the city the next day, while the population woke up without the unrest of the previous day, for those bells only meant one thing. And no one could have been more surprised.
The king was dead. The news spread quickly throughout the city as everyone started hearing about it. He had passed away during the night due to an infection from the wounds he had suffered, continuing to accuse Jon Snow as the main suspect in the king's assault.
Conversations about it filled the streets, along with talk of the abuse committed by the city guard, as many people had been robbed by them.
This went on throughout the entire morning, with people unsure whether they should mourn or revolt—though most seemed to lean towards the latter, given all the rumors that had been circulating for nearly two weeks.
Lord Stark was deep in thought in his solar, gazing over the city at that moment, lost in contemplation after what had happened. He hadn't known how to react when he first heard the news—at the very least, he had panicked.
'But tell me… What do you plan to do? After all, the king is dying, and someone must take his place…'
'Because Pycelle did not give him the right diagnosis. I tell you… he is dying.'
The queen's words echoed in his mind. Of course, the Robert he had seen alive and well just the day before had died because of her scheme. He found himself in a complicated situation now, though he had been fortunate enough to foresee something like this. Last night, he had already begun preparations for his daughters to leave the city—tonight would be the night.
Ned's plan was to put anyone who could be taken as a hostage to manipulate him in safety, and most importantly, to ensure the protection of his daughters while he remained in the city and attempted to summon all the lords of Westeros for a great council. After all, he was still the Hand of the King and had power as such, despite the queen seeming intent on ignoring that.
But certainly, the death of his friend had shaken him—especially since his last memory of Robert was seeing him look at him with hatred, seeing Robert himself regard him as an enemy, a traitor.
Ned sighed, his thoughts in turmoil, and decided to leave the room, walking through the corridors.
"Lady Stark, your daughter has been waiting for you here for over an hour," Jory Cassel pointed to the girl standing in the hallway as soon as he saw his lord.
"Arya? Why are you waiting for me?" He approached his daughter, who stood still in the middle of the corridor.
"What will happen now that the king is dead?" she asked, nervous.
He knelt before her and tried to reassure her. "Everything will be fine, Arya, don't worry. Soon, you and your sister will go to the North."
"But Sansa said we're not going to the North… She said the queen promised her that she would marry Joffrey, now that he is going to take the throne. And… she was summoned by the queen early this morning…" Arya murmured.
Lord Stark immediately furrowed his brow. "She was? Why did no one inform me?" Ned asked, worried, his voice tense.
"Everyone was summoned and forced to follow the guards to the Red Keep, but I managed to escape. I tried to warn them here, but the guards said you were not to be disturbed. I was afraid to speak up…" Arya murmured, uncertain whether it was truly something to be concerned about or if she was merely bothering her father.
"I want you to stay here, all right? Stay with all the Stark guards," Ned said in a serious tone, surprising his daughter.
"Jory, I want you to go to the Red Keep with a group of guards and request that Sansa come immediately. Tell them her father is summoning her," he ordered.
Jory nodded and immediately left to carry out the order.
After that, Lord Stark left the Tower of the Hand and headed into the city, where he found Littlefinger, demanding that he order the City Watch to support his actions. Quickly, he gathered the men and advanced toward the Red Keep.
He could not let Sansa, and most importantly, the throne, fall into the hands of the queen and Joffrey, whom he suspected to be a bastard. Now, even with the chaos Jon had caused and the intrigues spun from the shadows, placing Joffrey on the throne would be a path of no return, inevitably leading to war.
Moreover, Ned already knew that Stannis had been preparing for conflict for a week. Renly had fled to the Stormlands after leaving the city the previous day.
Things were becoming more chaotic by the moment, and he needed to maintain order in the Seven Kingdoms.
He quickly returned to the Red Keep with hundreds of men led by Janos Slynt, while Jory informed him that the queen had forbidden them from entering the fortress. Ned merely nodded and advanced. The guards at the keep tried to stop them, but, intimidated, they stepped aside, allowing them to proceed to the throne room.
When Ned Stark entered the throne hall with his City Watch and House Stark guards, what he found was Joffrey seated on the Iron Throne.
As he stepped forward, observing the scene with suspicion, he saw the queen beside her son, who smiled as soon as he saw him.
"Lord Stark, what is the meaning of this?" Joffrey exclaimed, furious.
Lord Stark looked at his daughter, who remained on the other side of the king, hesitant. Sansa was standing by the prince—her future husband—but her expression showed concern.
"Prince Joffrey, I am acting as the Hand of the King, and as far as I knew, until yesterday, Robert Baratheon was alive and well. Therefore, I am taking on this responsibility to bring to justice those who murdered him. Your father was killed by someone—assassinated," he said in a serious tone, though his voice wavered slightly when referring to Robert as Joffrey's father.
"You are saying my father was murdered?" Joffrey exclaimed, even more enraged.
"Obviously, he was murdered," Queen Cersei interjected at that moment, her tone amused as she stepped forward. "By his bastard." She declared, before casting a sharp look at Ned. "And I believe you are involved in this as well, Lord Stark. After all, who else would benefit from someone seizing control of the kingdom as you are doing now?"
"Traitor!" Joffrey bellowed, while Sansa furrowed her brows upon hearing this. She looked at her father, now uncertain and worried. The queen had assured her that everything would be fine after discussing her father's plans and sending her along with her sister to the North tonight.
Lord Stark frowned at this.
"You did not even wait for the king's burial, and you are already attempting to seize power while Robert's body is still cold," Pycelle interjected, pointing an accusatory finger at Lord Stark.
Joffrey pointed at Ned. "Guards! Arrest this traitor!" he shouted.
The soldiers of the Kingsguard, with the exception of Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Boros, drew their swords. Barristan Selmy hesitated at first—after all, he believed in Lord Stark's honor and had seen the king well just yesterday—but he still had to obey the queen and the crown prince.
Ned remained calm and looked at the men of the City Watch.
"City Watch! I want you to take the prince and the queen to their chambers and place them under guard!" he ordered.
The number of City Watch soldiers was much greater than that of the Kingsguard at that moment, and Ned was counting on that. But to his surprise, the queen only smiled.
"Men... attack!"
Suddenly, Janos Slynt let out a shout that echoed through the hall, and chaos erupted.
The City Watch soldiers, who until then had seemed to be under Ned's command as his allies, turned against him. Blades were drawn and pierced through the bodies of the northerners. Ned's men were caught off guard by the treacherous attack, and soon, cries of pain and shock filled the hall.
Lord Stark looked around, stunned, when he felt something cold pressing against his throat.
It was a dagger.
And holding it was none other than Littlefinger.
"I told you not to trust me, Lord Stark," Littlefinger murmured with a cynical smile.
Before Ned could react, he was subdued and taken away by force.
Meanwhile, the men of the North, who had been preparing to leave that night, were ambushed in the Tower of the Hand and slaughtered before they even had a chance to fight back. The floor of that part of the castle became a true bloodbath.
High above, on one of the rooftops of the Red Keep, Jon Snow watched all the chaos below. He raised an eyebrow at the queen's cruelty.
Then, before the king's death could even be formally announced, the news that would shock the entire city arrived: Lord Stark had been arrested, accused of conspiring to seize the kingdom and take power for himself alongside his bastard.
Once again, the city was thrown into turmoil by the unfolding events.
In the end, there was a public funeral for the king. The queen and the prince attended the ceremony, while Sansa remained locked inside the Red Keep, weeping upon learning of the cruel fate of her northern companions, massacred. Her father was imprisoned in a dungeon, awaiting trial in the coming days. Her younger sister had disappeared.
No one knew whether Arya was among the corpses being gathered around the Tower of the Hand or if she had managed to escape.
Meanwhile, Arya herself wandered through the secret tunnels inside the Red Keep, trying to find a way out.
The darkness was absolute. She couldn't even light a torch, forced to move cautiously through the shadowy labyrinth.
Suddenly, she bumped into something.
The surface was rough and immense, making her feel like a dwarf in comparison to the structure. It didn't seem like a wall or anything else she recognized.
"What is this?" she murmured with some fear, seeming to see the silhouette of a massive skull.
"That is Balerion."
A sudden voice echoed from the shadows.
Arya turned around, her heart pounding, nearly leaping out of her chest. Her eyes scanned the darkness, but she saw no one. Fear began to creep over her. Had a Lannister followed her after she killed Syrio Forel?
"Who's there?" she asked, trying to keep the tension out of her voice.
"The Black Dread..."
The voice sounded familiar. Even though she had only heard it a few times over a year ago, Arya couldn't recognize it due to her nerves.
"Who are you?!" Arya asked again, freezing as someone passed by her side with calm steps. But the person ignored her, focusing their attention on the rough surface ahead.
"This was the most powerful dragon to ever soar over the skies of Westeros... At least, as far as we know. He was Aegon the Conqueror's dragon."
The voice was calm, carrying an almost admiring tone as they spoke. Arya, hesitant, slowly turned around. But all she saw was darkness.
The man was touching the immense structure against which Arya had stumbled. It was the skull of Balerion, the Black Dread, which had been moved to that location after Robert Baratheon took the Iron Throne. The king wanted nothing in the Red Keep that reminded him of the Targaryens—at least, not in plain sight.
"It would be interesting to see him in his prime. They say he died measuring nearly ninety meters in length..."
The man murmured, thoughtful.
"I wonder... how do you kill a dragon of that size?"
"Who are you?" Arya murmured once again, trying to determine whether she was in danger or not. But she received no answer.
"It doesn't matter."
The voice sounded indifferent, as if the person had lost interest in speaking about the dragon rather than answering the girl's question.
"Now..."
She felt the stranger turning toward her, sensing his gaze on her, and instinctively took a step back, even though she could not see him. She was afraid.
"Do you see that rat?"
The voice continued, and at that moment, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed through the darkness. Faint scurrying noises reached her ears as the rat moved across the floor.
Arya couldn't even respond—she simply remained still as the stranger continued.
"I want you to follow that rat. It will lead you to one of the safe exits that go directly into the city. There, a group of people will be waiting to take you to a secure location. With the entire city focused on the king's funeral, you will be able to pass unnoticed. They will take you in and ensure your protection for the next few days. That is all I have to say to you."
Arya stood there, motionless, trying to decide whether she should trust the mysterious voice or not.
"You still haven't answered me... Who are you?" she insisted, still cautious, hoping the stranger would finally reveal his identity.
But before she could hear a response, she felt something strange.
Her eyes widened as she realized she was alone again. The stranger was no longer in front of her, as if he had vanished like a ghost.
The sound of the rat caught her attention once more. The small creature began to scurry away, as if urging her to follow.
Arya hesitated for a few seconds, undecided.
The stranger had disappeared.
Now, she had to make a decision.
And so, with no other choice, Arya began to follow the rat, hoping she would not regret it.
Meanwhile, someone walked through the dark corridors of the dungeons, passing by the guards with an unsettling ease.
The figure was approaching the cell where Lord Stark was imprisoned at that very moment.
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 90 - He is not my problem.
Chapter 95 - Hunting the Faceless Man.
Chapter 105 - Another Targaryen Playing the Game of Thrones?
Chapter 114 - Dealing with the Faceless Men, Leaving Braavos.
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