The morning sky was bleak, overcast and heavy. The Red Comet tore across the heavens like a bleeding wound.
King's Landing was still King's Landing, but the people were no longer the same. All across the city, people looked up at the strange signs in the sky with unease.
Sansa was having breakfast with Arya and Septa Mordane. She was still sulking, staring down at her food with a dark expression and barely eating. Arya, meanwhile, devoured everything in front of her.
"Have you finished packing your clothes?" Arya asked Sansa.
"Almost. It's not as though I have to go to your dance lessons."
"That's not dancing. It's swordsmanship."
"Call it whatever you like. But if you get to go to your lesson, why can't I go say goodbye to the Prince?"
"The Prince. He's a cruel Prince. Father has his reasons for saying that. Once we're back in Winterfell, everything will make sense," Arya said.
"Father must be mistaken. I'm going to marry the Prince. I love him the way Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, the way Jonquil loved Florian. I want to be his queen and have his children."
"Stop dreaming. Father said your betrothal to Joffrey was a terrible mistake. Joffrey is a liar and a coward. He'll find you someone else, a brave, gentle, strong young nobleman worthy of you."
"You're lying."
"Sansa, I would gladly go with you, and I would not miss the time for it either. But this is Lord Eddard's command, and we can only obey. He must have his reasons. You should not doubt his decision," Septa Mordane said.
"This is so unfair!"
Sansa shoved herself back from the table, knocking over her chair, then ran from the solar in tears.
Septa Mordane rose to her feet. Arya looked at her and said softly, "Please keep an eye on her. She still can't stop thinking about that fool Prince. This is important. My father warned me about it again and again."
"I understand, Lady Arya," the Septa replied.
Arya looked at the now empty table. Her father was gone, Jon was gone, and now even the Septa and Sansa had left. This was King's Landing. A place that always made Arya feel frightened and uneasy.
All she could do was pray in silence that her father's plan would succeed. She was not like Sansa, dazzled by the splendor and excess of King's Landing. She was a wary young she-wolf.
"We only have a hundred men, but the Lannisters have far more."
…
"Is the king really dead?" Cersei asked Lancel in Maegor's Holdfast.
"The King suffered a torn wound from his loins to his chest. I've never seen anything so severe. I'm afraid he won't last much longer. He's lost too much blood," Lancel said, trembling all over.
"The old wolf didn't go hunting that day?"
"No." Lancel shook his head. "When they were drinking in the tent, I kept watch on how much they had. Lord Eddard never got up the next morning."
"Good. But Robert must have said something to the old wolf. I need to prepare early," Cersei said after a moment's thought.
When Eddard returned to the River Gate with the bodies of the king and the boar, the atmosphere had already turned strange. The escort was pitifully small, so small it almost felt like a joke. Renly had already fled ahead with his own guards, and Barristan had departed as well under orders.
...
At the River Gate, Lannister guards stood waiting in full armor and crimson cloaks. The whole of King's Landing could feel the killing intent in the air. To Eddard, the crimson lion banners were as glaring as blood itself. In this vast city, was there truly so little left of House Baratheon?
He studied the party that had come to receive him. Six men led the way. Grand Maester Pycelle, the Hound, Varys, Janos, commander of the City Watch, clad in black and gold armor, the white cloak Boros, and of course, the man Eddard hated most of all, Littlefinger. It seemed Littlefinger had seen daylight again and reclaimed his seat as Master of Coin.
So my return was a mistake. I have made too many mistakes in this life. But I had no choice.
Eddard let out a sigh. Almost everyone before him was an enemy. He had once had a few possible allies, but now none of them were in King's Landing. Renly, Ser Barristan, Lord Stannis.
His enemies had clearly made their preparations. It would not be easy for Eddard to escape. But his dearest friend's coffin was beside him. He could not abandon the duty of escorting it, and he could not abandon his two daughters or his men.
As for Robert's will, Eddard no longer believed he could carry it out. Judging by the timing, Ser Barristan stood a better chance of succeeding.
So the will cannot be brought forth after all.
He looked at the chaotic scene before him. Of the six men sent to meet him, nearly all were Lannister dogs. This was what Robert had left him. A pack of flatterers and fools.
"Lord Eddard, who would have thought we'd meet again so soon?" Littlefinger said with a faint smile. His brief confinement had done nothing to him. He was once again dressed in his blue velvet doublet and grey mockingbird cloak, every bit the Master of Coin.
"You were condemned by the King. Why are you appearing here so openly? Has the King's word become worthless scrap of paper?" Eddard asked.
"Lord Eddard, I have no idea what you mean," Grand Maester Pycelle said at once. "The King merely told Lord Petyr to calm himself. He never removed him from office."
"Whose order was it?" Eddard asked.
"Why, that of our Queen, blessed by both the old gods and the new. She is now Queen Dowager Cersei," Ser Boros declared righteously.
Anger stirred in Eddard's chest. He had long known this old man and Ser Boros were Lannister lackeys.
"And where are Lord Renly and Ser Barristan?" Varys asked with a smile. He smelled of lavender, his plump face clean and powdered, utterly out of place beside the stench of the corpses. Eddard found it disgraceful.
"Lord Renly left the company earlier on urgent business. Ser Barristan…Ser Barristan also has great duties to attend to," Eddard said.
"Oh, that is strange. I fear Lord Renly will not be returning. Ser Loras also left King's Landing an hour before dawn, taking several retainers with him. According to my information, they are riding at full speed, no doubt for Storm's End or Highgarden."
Eddard could only feel helpless. Renly's hundred soldiers were better than nothing, but Renly had still judged King's Landing too dangerous and the situation too unfavorable.
"King Robert is gone. May the gods above grant him rest. But Lord Eddard, as Hand of the King, you bear a grave responsibility." The Old Maester bowed to Eddard. Eddard felt that even the chain around the old man's neck seemed too heavy for him.
"The King is dead, and my heart is full of grief. Perhaps the councillors should first gather in the Tower of the Hand, in my study, and mourn together," Eddard murmured. His heart ached. What was coming would come all the same. The King had hated rest. He loved love and laughter, and the joy of fighting for justice. Now that the King was dead, Eddard felt that some part of his own heart had died with him. The Tower of the Hand was the one place he could be sure was at least somewhat safer, but as things stood, he did not dare enter the council chamber.
"My lord, I am afraid that will not do. The Queen Dowager has already given her order. We still have to go to the Throne Hall," the Old Maester said slowly.
"That is indeed how matters stand, Stark. The King has already had the master of household issue the command. The Queen Dowager and the King require a Small Council meeting in the Throne Hall," Littlefinger said with a smile.
"And your two daughters, the Queen is taking very good care of them," the Old Maester added, making the threat plain enough.
A loud buzzing filled Eddard's head. Bringing the two girls to King's Landing had been a mistake on top of mistakes. Before they could even board a ship and leave, the situation had already become chaotic and terrifying. Eddard had never imagined things in King's Landing would turn this bad. But he had no choice. He wanted to see his children.
"The King is dead, but we should still go." Eddard looked at the crowd. He did not even have time to go to the Tower of the Hand and see his daughters. The situation truly could not have been worse. What choice did he have, silence or open defiance? But he would never sink into the same mire as them.
"Lord Stark, I advise you to mind your words. If you are clever enough, you should pay proper respect to our King Joffrey," Littlefinger said suddenly, in a tone of false goodwill. "Just look at how favorable your position is. Little Joff is your son in law. If you marry your younger daughter to Tyrion, and let the heir marry Myrcella, then the lion and the wolf will be as close as one family."
Eddard said nothing. Littlefinger's words were smooth enough. But his old friend's body was barely cold. How could he abandon justice and duty just to save his own life? He had no other choice.
Eddard followed them and could only force himself onward.
"A true Stark," Littlefinger snorted, then said no more. Honor was Eddard's armor, but this was King's Landing.
As he entered the Red Keep, Eddard saw not only crimson clad Lannister soldiers, but also many gold cloaks of the City Watch patrolling the walls and gate. None of it boded well.
The commander of the City Watch, Janos, wore richly ornamented black and gold armor and carried a tall plumed helm under his arm. He gave the guards a stiff nod. His men pushed open the oak doors, twenty feet high and banded with bronze.
"Welcome His Grace Joffrey the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, of House Baratheon and House Lannister," the master of household cried aloud when they arrived.
After that long walk, Eddard found King Joffrey waiting for him upon the Iron Throne. Eddard stepped forward toward the boy first, with the others following behind. He remembered the first time he had walked this path. Sword in hand, mounted on a warhorse, forcing Jaime down from the throne. He and the Lannisters truly did seem fated to cross paths again and again.
"Quite the full house," Eddard said, noting that all five of the Kingsguard were present. The Kingslayer had returned to the Westerlands, and the old knight had likely already secured passage to Myr. The white knights formed a crescent around the base of the throne, fully armed and encased head to toe in finely crafted armor. Long white cloaks draped their backs, and gleaming white shields hung from their left arms.
Cersei Lannister stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn with her two younger children. The Queen wore a sea-green silk gown trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as sea foam. On her finger gleamed a gold ring set with an emerald the size of a pigeon's egg, and a matching golden circlet rested upon her head.
Above them, seated upon the spiked Iron Throne, was Joffrey, clad in a gold-threaded tunic and a red satin cloak. The cloak was embroidered in gold, bearing fifty roaring lions on one side and fifty leaping stags on the other. The Hound had taken his place at the foot of the steep, narrow steps leading up to the throne after paying his respects. He wore ash-gray armor and that grotesque dog-headed helm.
Behind the throne stood twenty Lannister guards, longswords at their waists, crimson cloaks over their shoulders, and lion-crested helms upon their heads. Along the walls, beneath Robert's tapestries of hunting and war, stood the gold cloaks of the City Watch. Each man gripped an eight-foot spear tipped with black iron, standing ready. They outnumbered the Lannister guards five to one.
"I command the Small Council to prepare my coronation at once. I want it completed within two weeks. Today, I will receive the oaths of allegiance from the great lords of the realm," Joffrey declared as he rose, his gaze sweeping across the hall. "Why are two men missing? That old knight. And my uncle Renly, the one who's always making jokes?"
"Lord Renly and Ser Barristan have matters to attend to and have not yet returned to King's Landing," Eddard said, forcing the words out.
"Oh? And what could be more important than escorting my father's coffin, or my coronation?" Joffrey shouted. "I knew they were traitors."
"Please. Allow me to deliver this letter to the lady of House Lannister," Eddard said, handing the letter to Varys, his heart uneasy.
The contents were simple, carefully composed by Eddard. King Robert knew. He knew. Armies would soon gather from all sides. But for the sake of the children, Cersei still had a chance to take them and flee. The farther, the better.
"Oh?" Cersei glanced at him, puzzled. "Then come here, Lord Eddard."
Varys handed the letter to her. She read it, then tore it to pieces without hesitation. "Trying to threaten me, Lord Eddard?"
"We have a new king now, Lord Eddard," Cersei said, fixing him with a cold stare. "Kneel. Swear loyalty to my son, and I will allow you to resign as Hand of the King and return to that gray wasteland you call home, to live out your remaining years in peace."
Eddard looked at the gathered court. It was time to end this.
"I'm sorry. I cannot swear allegiance. Your son has no right to the throne. Before his death, the king annulled your marriage and legitimized the bastard's claim. The throne belongs to his eldest son, Gendry Baratheon, with me serving as regent."
"Liar!" Joffrey shouted, his face flushed red.
"Mother, what does he mean?" the princess asked, her voice trembling as she looked at the Queen Dowager. "Isn't Joffrey the king now?"
"Lord Stark, you are seeking your own death. Seize him," Cersei snapped.
Steel rang out all at once. The Hound was the first to draw his sword. Twenty red cloaks, a hundred gold cloaks, and five Kingsguard surged forward.
"Kill him!" Joffrey screamed.
"I have the king's decree. His will. Ser Barristan witnessed it," Eddard said, drawing his sword. But he stood like a lone boat in a vast sea.
"We have a new king," Cersei said with a cold snort.
The red cloaks and gold cloaks vastly outnumbered them. With the Kingsguard and the Hound among them, the outcome was never in doubt. Eddard's ten personal guards were quickly cut down.
The gray-cloaked men of House Stark fell one after another, until only Eddard remained, standing alone at the center.
He was old. And no match for the Hound.
The Hound's bloodstained blade pressed against his throat as several red cloaks rushed in and forced him to the ground.
"In the Game of Thrones, there are only winners and losers," Cersei said, looking down at her defeated enemy.
"You were leaving. Why come back?"
"Poor Stark. Now it's your turn to taste the black cells," Littlefinger said, laughing.
Eddard could not speak. The blood-soaked throne room before him was no longer his to control.