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Nyra was nervous. No, that wasn't right. She was petrified. News about the ambush on the King's hunting party had spread through the Red Keep like a wildfire. Given what she and Ned had just learned regarding the true parentage of the royal children…she honestly did not know what was going to happen. And if that wasn't enough, she was constantly on edge from the Force. Her husband had told her more than once that once properly attuned to the Force, one could sense impending danger…and that was what she was sensing now. Impending danger that was weighing on her like a ton of bricks.
What made it arguably worse was that she wasn't the only one feeling it either. Arya and Sansa were both clearly nervous. The elder Stark girl was busying herself with needle work with her friend Jeyne, while the younger Stark girl was working on pacing a path in the floor like a wolf stalking her prey. Even Osha, Sansa's ever present sworn spear, was on edge. The former wildling spear-wife kept one hand on her sword-spear, ready to draw the weapon at a moment's notice.
Hearing heavy footfalls, all five women in the room collectively held their breath as they watched and waited as Lord Stark slowly made his way into the room and shut the door behind him. Ned didn't say anything right away, he just stood there, staring out into space. "There was an ambush on the King's hunting party. Several were killed and Robert…Robert was gravely wounded and now waits the embrace of the Stranger."
Sansa was immediately on her feet. "I am ready to go, father. Please, tell me the extent of his injuries on the way, so that I—"
"Robert has declined your healing touch, Sansa," Ned cut in, surprising all of them. "He…He wants to die from a wound sustained in battle. A battle where he defended young Tommen. It…It's a death he wants. Not the slow decay of sickness."
Nyra was struck dumb by the proclamation. Not only the way the King was basically throwing his life away, but also the fact that Ned was apparently allowing it to happen while suspecting the Queen of potential usurpation of his line. "Girls," Ned continued. "Begin packing your belongings. King's Landing may not be safe for you here soon and I want you out of the city and on your way back North before the sun sets."
"But…Father, I—"
"Sansa," Ned cut in harshly, his eyes flickering. "Take your sister and Jeyne and pack your belongings. Please."
Arya looked like she wanted to protest, but Sansa merely nodded her head in acceptance before ushering her sister, Jeyne, and Osha out of the room, leaving Nyra alone with Ned. "Ned," Nyra began once they were alone. "Does the King know about our suspicions?"
"He does," Ned nodded, "in fact, he already had suspicions of his own and acknowledged that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were not his."
Nyra was baffled. "And why is he accepting of death then?! He has no direct heir!"
Ned shifted his stance and produced a rolled scroll from within his doublet. "The King left a will, one witnessed and written down by the Grand Maester, Ser Barristan, and myself. In it, he disinherits Joffrey and names me Regent of the Seven Kingdoms for a period of five years. After which a Grand Council will be held to determine the next King of Westeros."
Nyra looked at Ned like he had suddenly grown two heads. "Lord Stark…Do you really think that will matter?"
Ned blinked. "It is the King's Will."
At this, Nyra pinched the bridge of her nose. "And how many King's Wills have been ignored in the past? Especially when it goes to disinherit the presumed heir to the throne?!"
Ned scowled, "Joffrey is but a child. He does-"
"I'm not concerned with Joffrey!" Nyra hissed. In truth, she was concerned about the boy. But not because she thought he would have the savvy to claim the throne, but rather what he would do once his ass was polishing the throne. "I'm concerned with the Queen! Cersei has power. Power she will not relinquish without bloodshed. She gained royalty by marrying Robert. Now she seeks to keep her power through her children. And do you think that piece of paper you hold in your hands will stop her? No, she won't care. Hells, she has probably already called the High Septon to the Red Keep to crown her son the moment Robert's heart stops beating."
Ned looked more than slightly uncomfortable, and even a little angry. "Renly said the same thing."
Nyra wanted to roll her eyes. "Of course he did. He's known her longer than either of us have. And despite being a lazy ass in his duties, he does at least have an eye for the players in the game."
Ned turned away from her and walked towards the lone window in the room. "Renly wanted me to support his claim to the throne. He said we would have a hundred Tyrell swords at our command if I supported him."
At this, Nyra sat down heavily. "So, Renly is making his move. The Queen is making her move if she hasn't already. And Stannis is holed up in Dragonstone waiting for his brother's death, or he's already dead. That will you hold is not worth wiping our ass with Ned. I say that not to dishonor your friend and our King, but rather to state facts. All of them will put their bid in for the throne the moment Robert dies. And the only way we get out of this without declaring for one or the other is if Robert still lives for a while longer. If the Queen hasn't already hastened his death. Ned, we need to act now. Or you, I…and your daughters will all either end up dead or imprisoned."
Ned looked torn. "Gods damn them all to the hells," Ned sighed as he turned to her, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him. "What do I do?"
Nyra took a moment to formulate a plan in her mind. "First, we must secure the King's safety. The bells haven't begun tolling, which means he still draws breath. We can't trust the Kingsguard outside of Ser Barristan. Hells, Ser Jaime is the Queens sister and history has shown that despite their 'honor', the Kingsguard can be bought for the right price. Take half our men and secure the King. Once he's confirmed still to be alive, we send Sansa to him and heal him, his wishes be damned. Once he's back on his feet, we sort out the truth of the royal children and settle the matter of succession. It will still lead to war, as Tywin Lannister will not stand for the slander against his daughter let alone the disinheriting of his grandchildren. But at least we can force him into an unfavorable position by securing the rest of the realm's loyalty. But all of this will only be possible as long as Robert still lives. The moment he dies, it all goes to the hells."
Ned nodded. "And what will you and my daughters be doing while I secure the King?"
"Preparing for the worst," Nyra said plainly. "We dismiss all the servants, scatter them throughout King's Landing. I will make the girls ready to flee should the King perish before we can get to him and the Queen makes her move."
Despite clearly not liking what he was hearing, Ned nodded his agreement. "I will leave Jory with you to prepare." Ned took a few steps towards the door, then stopped with his hand on the handle. "Nyra. Should this go wrong…promise me you will take care of my daughters. Get them out of the city and back to the safety of the North."
Nyra didn't hesitate. "I swear it, Lord Stark. On my honor as a woman of the North, on the old gods and on the Force. I will see to the safety of the girls."
"Thank you, Nyra," Ned sighed as he opened the door showing several men standing wait outside, "Jory, see to Lady Nox and listen to her commands as if they were my own. And half of you with me. We're going to see the King."
Bowing after the quick-moving Lord Stark, Jory turned a bewildered look towards Nyra. "Lady Nox?"
Nyra didn't hesitate. "Our 'quick escape', Jory. Prepare the way. I will get the girls ready. Just in case, collect everything that has been delivered and collected from storage and set it up. We will need to cover our tracks and buy ourselves time should the worst come to pass."
Marching through the halls of the Red Keep, Ned was unashamed to admit that he was more unsettled now than he had ever been in his entire life. He'd fought in many battles in his life, and never once had he felt this unease. Perhaps it was because he knew that his daughters' lives hung in the balance of his decisions. Or perhaps it was because he was only now realizing his own folly at letting his friend and King simply give up on life when so much depended on Robert still drawing breath.
'I was a fool,' Ned cursed himself as he led the ten men he had towards the royal wing of the Red Keep. 'Yet, I always have been when it comes to Robert. I should have never encouraged the union between him and Lyanna. I should have insisted on Clegane's and Lorch's execution after what happened to Elia and her children. So many times, I should have stood my ground against Robert…yet I never have. No more.'
He was still a fair distance from the royal wing, but his progress was suddenly stopped as a figure stepped out from a side passage and purposefully put himself in his path. "Lord Stark," Petyr Baelish greeted him warmly, too warmly for his tastes.
"I have no time for pleasantries, Lord Baelish," Ned said, his tone crisp, "I must see the King."
"And that is precisely why I wanted to see you first," Baelish said smoothly. "The whole Red Keep knows of the King's condition. And they know that he spoke with you, the Grand Maester and the Lord Commander. No doubt delivering his last words, though what those words are no one but you three know. Not even Lord Varys's little birds can sing the song of them. And that is a rather impressive feat, Lord Stark."
Ned frowned and made to move past Baelish. "As I said, I have no time for pleasantries. I must see to my King."
He was just beside the lithe man when he spoke again and brought him to a stop, "Lord Renly has fled King's Landing. Along with the entirety of the Tyrell host and over half of the Baratheon men at arms." At this, Ned turned his attention to the Master of Coin, who was looking completely at ease. "The Queen knows, or at least suspects, that you are a threat to her power, Lord Stark. Something that she will not stand for. Given that Lord Renly has fled without you, he no doubt intends to put forth his own name for the throne and has left you alone in the city to stall the Queen. No doubt at the expense of your life in the process. However, thankfully, I am here to help you."
Ned frowned. Renly leaving was…not good. "And why should I trust your aid? By your own admission, you are a dishonest person, Lord Baelish."
Baelish smiled. "It's because I am dishonest that you can trust me. I am loyal to myself and one other. Catelyn Tully. And it is for her memory that I am here to tell you that I have the city watch at my command. Command which can be used to ensure that the throne passes to the one that should have it."
Baelish's words rang through his head. 'He has the gold cloaks under his thumb…and combined with my own few guards we could easily ensure Robert's survival and ensure his will is followed through. But…can I trust Petyr? He says that everything he does is for Cat's sake…but is that even true?'
But before he could ponder the decision further, they were interrupted by the sound of armored boots pounding in lock step against tile flooring. Turning towards the source of the noise, Ned felt his stomach plummet as he found himself staring down at nearly two dozen Lannister men at arms. 'More than double the number that I have with me to secure the King.'
"Lord Stark," one of the men near the front of the line said, the group coming to a halt. "The King has commanded your presence in the throne room. Immediately."
He was immediately put on edge, even more so than he already was. If Robert was calling for him, why from the throne room? And why send Lannister guards to summon him instead of a servant, or the Kingsguard, or even the gold cloaks? Something about this was wrong. But he could tell from the stance of the men before him, that his denial of the request would not be taken kindly. "Very well," he said, casting a quick glance towards Baelish. "If the King has summoned me, I will respond…and we will see how your word holds Lord Baelish."
Baelish merely bowed slightly before falling into step behind Ned as he changed his direction and headed towards the Iron Throne with his men behind them and the Lannister men at arms falling in behind them. Arriving at the throne room, Ned was shocked to find that the hall was nearly completely vacant save for several dozen gold cloaks and Lannister men at arms lining the walls. But what surprised him the most was the fact that all of the Kingsguard, save for Ser Barristan, was standing vigil at the base of the massive Iron Throne. And sitting on the throne was Joffrey…with the Queen standing by his side as the High Septon made his way down the dais.
"Lord Stark," Joffrey called out to him. "You took your time in answering my summons…I expect better from those sworn to me, let alone my 'Warden of the North'."
Ned felt a cold shiver run down his spine. 'No. The bells have not rung. Robert…Not enough time has passed for a new King to be crowned. Even if Robert has passed.'
"Well, Lord Stark," the Queen called out to him. "I believe it is proper etiquette to kneel and swear allegiance to the King of the Seven Kingdoms."
Ned felt his blood boil and freeze. He was too late. And worse, he was without his blade. Ice was still safely in the North with Robb, though now the blade was more ceremonial than anything. But even still, in his rush to get to Robert he had neglected to bring a sword with him. He was surrounded. Though, not outnumbered…provided Baelish came through on his promise.
"Ser Jaime," Ned called out, drawing a raised eyebrow from the man. "I find it strange that Ser Barristan was not present for…this event. Yet, in his absence, as the ranking member of the Kingsguard, I would have you read this."
Reaching into his doublet, Ned pulled out the sealed will of Robert and held it out to the Kingslayer. The Kingslayer glanced over his shoulder towards his sister, the Queen, but in the end shrugged and walked forward and roughly took the scroll out of Ned's hand. "Robert's seal, unbroken." Ser Jaime said, clearly unimpressed as he broke the wax and opened the will.
"The Grand Maester has the same will, as does Ser Barristan," Ned explained as Jaime silently read the contents of the will, his face losing its color as he did. "Summon them both, and you will find my words to be true."
The Queen frowned as Jaime remained silent. While Joffrey started clearly looking anxious, his leg bouncing slightly as he sat on the Iron Throne. "Read it aloud, uncle," Joffrey ordered.
Jaime looked up towards the throne before clearing his throat and reading the will out loud. "Robert has…disinherited Joffrey. And named Lord Eddard Stark Regent of the Seven Kingdoms for a period of five years. Whereupon a Grand Council will be held to determine if Tommen, Myrcella…or another will be crowned King."
The effect was immediate. Joffrey went completely red in the face and made to get up. But the Queen stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering into his ear before making her way down the dais towards them. Reaching the bottom, she calmly, far too calmly, walked over to them and took the will out of Jaime's hands. The Queen read over the will several times before calmly looking towards him. "So, this is your play, Lord Eddard. This…piece of paper?" Holding the will up, she paused to make sure she had all eyes on her before slowly ripping the will in half.
Ned cursed himself for falling into what he now recognized as a trap. But he could still fight. He might not have a blade in his hand. But he could feel the wolfsblood within him howling. The Force was with him. And the gold cloaks, hopefully. "Those are the words of King Robert Bara—"
"The Seven Kingdoms have a new King," the Queen interrupted him. "King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his Name. And you will kneel and swear your allegiance to him. Do so, and you will be allowed to leave and return to your frozen wasteland of a home and live out the rest of your days in peace."
Ned could tell that the Queen was sincere in her words. She wanted him out of King's Landing…No doubt to solidify her son's rule. A son that was not born of Robert's seed. But when he turned his eyes towards Joffrey, he saw something that chilled him. There was madness in the child's eye. A bloodlust that he had only seen in a few but could easily recognize. No, even if he swore oaths of loyalty… There would be no peace. This boy wanted war, wanted blood, and he would get it. One way or another, no matter what Eddard said or did.
"I will not allow the late King Robert's will to be so easily put aside, your majesty," Ned said, his anger growing within him. Something he knew showed in his eyes as the Queen took a step back and Jaime brought his hand up to his sword hilt.
"Guards!" Joffrey shouted at the top of his lungs. "Seize this traitor!"
Ned moved without thinking. With a quickness that surprised even himself, he reached out and put his left hand on the hilt of the Kingslayer's sword before he could draw it, keeping the blade in its sheath. Then before the man could react, Ned struck with the palm of his right hand, striking the Kingslayer's plate mail covered chest. The wolfsblood, and the Force, was flowing through him with such intensity that the blow not only sent the Kingslayer onto his arse, but it also dented in the chest plate of the man's armor. As he fell, Ned tightened his grip on the Valyrian steel sword with his left hand and pulled the blade from its sheath.
Now armed, Ned prepared himself to fight, but a scream of death from behind him stopped him and forced him to look behind him. The few men he had with him were being slaughtered like cattle. By the Lannister men at arms and the gold cloaks!
The realization that he'd been betrayed hadn't even sunk into his mind before he felt a warning cry from the wolfsblood within him. His body seemingly moved on its own accord, but it was not enough. And he felt a sharp fiery pain sink into his lower back. The realization that he'd literally been stabbed in the back staggered him as he turned around, Valyrian steel still in hand. And found Petyr Baelish standing just out of his reach with a smile on his face. "I told you, Lord Stark…I am a dishonest man. And you can always trust a dishonest man to be…dishonest."
Pain flared from his back, spreading like fire from where the dagger was lodged in him as two dozen gold cloaks and Lannister men at arms advanced on him. Not with bare steel, but with clubs. He tried to raise his guard, but the men advanced all at once, their clubs falling on him in a wild frenzy. He killed one, maybe two of the guards, before one got a lucky strike on his head, blackening his vision and sending him crashing to the floor.
Cersei's heart was racing as she stared down at the bloodied and broken form of Lord Eddard Stark. She felt…elation. Better than reaching her peak when lying with her brother! This feeling was unlike anything she had ever felt! She had won! The man still drew breath, and despite wanting him dead for what she feared he might know, she knew that she needed him alive. As long as he lived, they had leverage over the North. Leverage that they could use to secure her son's position as King. And, far more importantly, her own position as the Queen Mother.
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned and saw Jaime giving her a look that spoke of his own pleasure at seeing the beaten and broken form of Eddard Stark. The same man that gave him the ridiculous moniker of Kingslayer. Ha! Her brother was a hero and should've been heralded as such!
Moving past her, Jaime retrieved his Valyrian steel sword and sheathed it before motioning towards the gold cloaks and Lannister men. "Take Stark to the black cells for attempted usurpation of the Iron Throne from its rightful King."
The men nodded and wordlessly picked up the bloodied form of Stark before dragging him off towards the black cells.
Still smiling, and still feeling elation at what had happened, Cersei made her way back up the dais of the Iron Throne to take her proper place beside her perfect golden lion. Joffrey, for his part, smiled at her as well. But then his smile fell as he looked towards his Kingsguard. "Uncle Jaime…Do you care to tell me why such an esteemed member of the Kingsguard like yourself was disarmed by an unarmed barbarian in my presence?"
Cersei's elation at having gotten the better of Stark faltered as she looked towards her twin, her other half…the father of her perfect golden lions. For his part, Jaime looked ashamed. "Forgive me, your grace," he said, lowering his head. "It is a mistake that will not happen again."
Joffrey's glare did not lessen as he looked at his true father. Something that Cersei did not like in the least. It was not Jaime's fault Stark had used his unholy magic against her brother. Besides, her brother was the greatest knight there ever was. Sure, Stark managed to get one over on him. But she knew that Jaime would never let such a thing happen again. "See that it doesn't Uncle…or I might just have to look for a Kingsguard that is not so easily disarmed." Joffrey said, shocking both Cersei and Jaime. "But I am a forgiving King, Uncle. So I'll give you the chance to make up for this blunder. Take all the men you can find and claim the Stark bitches and Nox's whore. The rest…alive, if possible. Though dead is just as fine."
Jaime's face didn't give anything away as to what he was thinking. He merely nodded and turned on his heel while calling out for the men of the gold cloaks and House Lannister to follow him to the Tower of the Hand. "Prepare my council, mother," her son said, rising to his feet. "I will meet with them later today. I have many changes that I want to bring forth. And send word out that the bells to announce my father's passing are to be rung across the city."
Watching her son leave with the few Kingsguard still in the hall following him, the elation that she'd felt at bringing the mighty Starks down waned almost completely. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that, despite having achieved victory here today, things would not be as easy going forward as they should be.
Standing before the low burning fire in her solar, Nyra watched as dozens of pieces of paper and parchment turned to ash within the flames. As soon as the first bell rung out, she knew that they were too late. Robert was dead. And Ned had not immediately returned to the Tower of the Hand. He wasn't dead, she hoped. At the very least, he was captured. A fate she could not allow for herself or for Ned's daughters. Having the Warden of the North as a prisoner was a powerful bargaining tool. Having the Warden, his two daughters, and the wife of the famed 'Northern Sorcerer' would be back breaking.
Throwing the last of what she felt were important documents into the fire, she retreated to her trunk and threw it open. Scattered within were various items that she'd been gifted. By the people of King's Landing, the Starks, and even her husband. But she knew that she would have to abandon them all. 'Well, not all,' she thought, removing a panel within the chest to reveal a hidden compartment and the small glass candle within. Taking the candle, she carefully wrapped it up and put it in a satchel, along with two coin purses the size of her closed fist filled to near bursting with gold, silver, and copper coins. Everything else she would leave behind.
Leaving her solar, she went down to the main hall of the Tower of the Hand. All that was left of House Stark's personal guard was gathered in the hall. The door was barred, and a steady thumping from outside rang out through the hall as voices from outside called out for them to come out, lay down their arms, and surrender to the true King, King Joffrey Baratheon.
While two of the Stark guards were trying to hold the door to aid in bracing it, the few others were busy setting the hall for their uninvited guests. Thin metal strands that'd been woven together like a robe roughly as wide as her little finger was being crisscrossed throughout the room. The metal wire, as her husband had called it, was yet another invention of her husband that'd just been perfected by the blacksmith Gendry. And the few coils that were being used was all there was in all of Westeros and had just arrived in King's Landing with the latest shipment from the North. She hadn't even had a chance to show the 'wire' to the King or the court yet. 'Though, now, that might just be a blessing as those bastards trying to get in won't realize what's in their way.' She thought, wincing as she saw one of the men securing the metal wire curse and pull his hand away, blood running freely down his arm.
Hearing the scuffing of feet behind her, Nyra turned and saw Sansa, Arya, Jeyne, Osha, and Jory come down into the main hall. Each girl was carrying a satchel and nothing else. Sansa and Jeyne were both clearly nervous. And while Arya appeared the calmest of the three, she could still tell by the way the girl was gripping her saberstaff tightly that her nerves were threatening to get the better of her as well.
Sharing a nod with Jory, Nyra led the small group over to a storage room near the back of the hall. Entering the room, they found one more Stark guard standing next to a hole in the floor. A hole that led to a passage that would lead them to the sewer ways beneath King's Landing. Not an ideal means of escape, considering they would have to wade through only gods knew what… But it was a far better option than the alternative of trying to break out of the tower.
Staying back with Osha, Nyra watched as Jory and the Stark guard helped first Arya, then Sansa, and lastly Jeyne down into the tunnel. The girls had been more than reluctant to take this route, especially without their father. But Nyra had put her foot down on the issue. They would do their father, and themselves, no good here. Their only hope was to escape and return with greater numbers.
Once all three girls were down, Nyra made her way over to the tunnel, but then stopped and turned towards Jory. "Don't take chances with your lives, Jory… Finish the traps and follow us immediately."
The words felt hollow in her mouth. And from the look Jory was giving her, he knew but he accepted it. They all knew what was going to happen. "Don't concern yourself with us, Lady Nyra," he said, far calmer than she felt he had a right to be considering the situation. "Get the girls out of the city. Get them home…and one day we will meet again."
Nyra wanted to pull Jory, and the rest of the Stark guards, down into the tunnel with them. But it would be pointless. They were committed to this path. "The North remembers, Jory Cassel."
Jory gave her a nod. "Aye. The North remembers, my lady. Osha, keep them safe."
Osha gave the man a nod of respect before walking over and jumping down into the tunnel. Sparing Jory one last look, Nyra took the time to memorize his face, and the face of each Stark guard in the room and the hall. 'The North remembers,' she promised herself as she allowed herself to be lowered down into the tunnel with the others. 'The Baratheons and Lannisters will learn just what that means before their end.'
Making sure that the grate leading down to the sewer beneath the Tower of the Hand was secured fully, Ser Jory Cassel covered the entrance with a rug before having a few crates put over the entrance as well to try and mask it further. With the entrance now hidden, he left the storage room and made his way out into the main hall of the tower. The steady pounding of whatever makeshift ram the Lannister men at arms and gold cloaks had hastily put together was the only noise as he stared at the twenty men of House Stark that were still with him.
Each man standing before him stood tall, a knowing look in their eye. Each had had a chance to slip out of the tower with the servants when Lady Nyra had ordered them out, but each had chosen to remain, knowing that this was where they would end up. There was no fear. Only acceptance. "Has our little surprise been finalized?" he asked a few of the men.
"Aye, ser," one answered, nodding towards a back corner of the hall. "As much of the green shit as we could find and everything Lady Stark had stashed as well. Should be more than enough to do the trick."
"Sons of the North," he began, looking each man in the eye. "Standing with you, serving with you, has been my honor. And now, the Old Gods, the true Gods, are calling us home. But I say that they will just have to wait a little bit longer! Let us show these fancy southern cunts just why twenty men of the North are to be feared! Let us show them just why one man of the North is worth twenty of their own! Let us show these southern cunts that the gods, and the Force, favors us more than any other!"
Standing outside the Tower of the Hand, Jaime watched with a firm hold on his sword hilt as the gold cloaks and men of House Lannister used a stone statue to batter away at the barred door leading into the Tower. His orders were simple. Storm the tower and take Lady Nox and the Stark girls hostage. All others were either to be captured or put to the sword. Honestly, this was almost an insultingly easy task. Sure, the Stark girls gave him reason to pause, especially the youngest one. But they easily outnumbered those within the Tower at least twenty or thirty to one.
"Ser Jaime," one of his guards called out to him. "The door is almost breached. From the cracks in the door, we cannot see any defenders within."
Frowning, Jaime turned to the man. "Tear the door down. Kill anyone inside. But make sure that the Stark girls and Lady Nox remain untouched. Or you will find yourselves answering to the King." The man bowed and ran towards the others to relay the orders.
'All too easy,' Jaime thought as the door was finally breached. The gold cloaks and red cloaks hurriedly tossed the statue aside and began storming into the Tower of the Hand. Unfortunately, they could only move forward in an almost single file as the entrance barely allowed two men abreast. 'I doubt I'll even need to draw my blade.'
But as more and more gold and red cloaks became bunched up around the door, being apparently unable to storm the tower with no one backing away or coming out, Jaime began to frown. 'Incompetent fools,' he swore to himself, drawing his blade and approaching the breeched door.
The combined red and gold cloaks parted for him, giving him clear access to the broken door. When he looked inside, it was not what he was expecting. Various red and gold cloaks were strung up, hanging in the air as if something invisible was holding them in place with blood red lines running through the air. Noticing that one of the bottles hanging in the air was full of crossbow bolts, Jaime roughly pulled a shield from a nearby gold cloak before strapping it to his arm and making his way into the tower. 'They're not using magic,' he realized as he came close to the first bolt ridden corpse. 'Are those…metal strings? Small enough almost to not be seen yet tied tightly enough not to give way.' And judging by the way the metal strings were cutting into the flesh of the corpses that was exposed through cracks in their armor, the metal strings were also very sharp.
Ducking and weaving his way through the maze of wires, Jaime listened to the sounds of battle raging within the tower. "You five, with me," he shouted, pointing to the first five men he saw. "The rest of you, cut this shit down and clear the way for the rest."
Coming into the main hall of the tower, Jaime was treated to the site of a massacre. But not one that was in their favor. Nearly two dozen, perhaps more, red and gold cloaks littered the floor. Their blood coating nearly every spec of the floor they walked on. And despite the near dozen that died amongst the metal strings and bolts, and over two dozen that lay dead on the floor, he spotted only two of the Stark men amongst the dead. 'How!? There is no way these barbarians have any true skill outside the fucking sorcerer and his ilk! How hard can it be to kill a dozen or so of these fucking barbarians?'
Making his way into the thick of the fighting, Jaime set his eyes on his first opponent. A Stark man at arms that was wielding a dagger and a short sword. The man moved well, and even managed to cut down one gold cloak and one red cloak before Jaime reached him. Of course, despite the man being able to take down several men, he was nowhere near Jaime's level. The man swung wildly at him, and Jaime simply parried the strike with his Valyrian steel blade before pulling a dagger out with his left hand and burying it in the man's eye.
"Kingslayer! Face me, you fucking backstabbing, sister fucking coward!"
Jaime felt his blood boil over the heat of the battle as he cast a quick glance around the carnage. It wasn't hard to find the one that dared to insult him. Standing tall amongst the other northern fucks was a man he recognized as the captain of the House Stark guard. Jory Cassel, he thought his name was. For a moment, Jaime was dumbfounded. This man, a mere captain of an up-jumped guard, dared to challenge him? What a fucking joke. Calmly sidestepping another northerner, Jaime kept his eyes on the northern captain as he slit his would-be attacker's throat with a calm movement before advancing on Jory.
The two men closed in on one another, Jaime brandishing his Valyrian steel Kingsguard blade and the northern captain a mere short sword. This was going to be all too easy.
The two men traded blows in the narrow passageway bumping into northerners, gold cloaks, and red cloaks alike as the two focused solely on one another. At first, Jaime had dismissed the man as just another man at arms. But as Jaime went from one attack to the next with the speed only few possessed, he had to reevaluate his opinion. Jory was able to keep up with him. Which was…impressive. Though they were confined in this narrow hall with dozens of living and dead surrounding them. That was why. If they were out in the open or in the yard, Jaime would've killed this fool within a single move or two.
Slowly, the numbers surrounding them thinned as the Northerners fell, but with each of their own that fell, they took at least three or four gold and red cloaks down with them. But Jaime didn't care. He was focused on Jory. The captain of the Stark guard who was able to match him blow for blow! It was…infuriating! He was Jaime Lannister! Son of Tywin Lannister and the youngest man ever to be appointed to the Kingsguard! He was knighted and trained by Ser Arthur Dayne himself! He trained for years with Ser Barristan the Bold! So how?! How was this pathetic mere captain of the Starks able to match him step for step!
But despite his frustration that was mounting, he felt something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Excitement! This…This was a fight to the death! A fight against a man who was matching him step for step! He felt invigorated! More so than after any time he ever spent with Cersei! This…This was what he had always wanted! To fight someone strong! To find an equally skilled opponent that would push him for all he was –
His arm shook as the sound of metal on stone rung out. He only had a moment to realize that his fight against Jory had brought them towards the walls of the hall, walls that had several stone pillars. And it was against those pillars that his sword hit upon, leaving his guard completely exposed.
Jory did not hesitate, his short sword able to move far more nimbly in the narrow corridors. The blade struck like a snake, and Jaime had only a moment to tilt his head to the left before he felt the cold steel cut through the flesh of his face. White hot pain flared through his face, forcing him to take a step back and raise his hand to his face. When he lowered his gauntleted hand, he saw blood. His blood. Coating his fingers and hand.
Looking up, he barely managed to get his sword back up to intercept Jory's next attack. But it was an attack that never reached him. One of the red cloaks had snuck up behind Jory and speared the northerner in the back, stopping the captain and bringing the man to his knees just as a crossbow bolt whistled pass Jaime's left and buried itself in Jory's chest just off hitting his heart.
Still in shock at the wound he'd received, his first wound ever… He felt that anger over his injury be replaced by another type of anger as he glared at the red cloak that'd speared Jory, the best opponent he'd had in a long time, in the back thereby stealing his fight from him. Gingerly touching his face again, Jaime walked around Jory, taking care to kick away the man's sword as he did before walking up to the red cloak and punching him in the face as hard as he could. He then turned and glared at the lone gold cloak in the room that was holding a crossbow. "The King wanted prisoners…He dies, and you will face the King's wrath." Jaime said coldly as he walked back around to the front of Jory.
The northern captain was still upright, if on his knees. The man had managed to pull out a smoking pipe, a recent addition to the capital from Yi Ti or Sothorous or something, of all things and had it clenched tightly between his teeth as his shaking fingers tried, and failed, to set fire to one of the striking sticks the North produced. He wasn't sure just why, but after watching the captain try and fail to light his third stick, Jaime put his sword away and squatted down in front of him. Taking the striker sticks from the captain, Jaime calmly lit one of the sticks, a flame springing to life on the red end. Holding out the flame, Jaime carefully lit the man's pipe for him.
Once lit, Jory took a few deep breaths of the smoke before looking up into Jaime's eyes. Then without a word the captain of the Stark guard slowly slumped forward until his forehead touched the bloodied floor.
Rising, Jaime felt a pain in his chest. Not for the death of a man of House Stark, but rather for losing a worthy opponent. "Find the Stark girls and Lady Nox," he said, turning his back on Jory. "And gods help you, if even one hair on their heads are harmed, I will have the lot of you flogged to death."
But just as his words left his lips, he heard something. A hissing noise coming from behind him. Turning around, he saw Jory sitting upright once again. Pipe still in his mouth. And a brown stick in his hand. A brown stick that had a string coming out one end. A string that was being quickly eaten away by a small flame. "My gods are smiling upon me this day, Kingslayer. How about yours?" Jory asked before flinging what Jaime now realized was a black powder stick towards the back of the hall.
He watched, unable to do anything as the stick struck a stack of crates. Crates and jars. Jars that were leaking a green liquid. A green liquid that was mixed with black sand. Wildfire…and black powder. "GET OUT!" he yelled, turning his back on a now smiling Jory and making a mad run for the exit, praying that the red cloaks and gold cloaks managed to clear the metal strings as he ran.
The corpses that were strung up were gone, and Jaime was just barely at the exit before a loud, ear-splitting sound pierced his ears. He felt his feet leave the ground as something struck him in the back. Next he knew he was surrounded by green and red flames as the courtyard outside the Tower of the Hand quickly passed him by. Then he felt himself strike something unyielding and he knew no more.