The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 20

Hadrian Snow

“Are you sure these reports are true?”

The handful of letters in laid out in front of him were so far fetched, so unbelievable, that he had to wonder if his uncle had manufactured the whole thing as some jest.

“They are.” Ned replied with a grim nod. “There are too many similar accounts to label them all mummery. My wife never spoke ill about her sister, and so I would have no reason to suspect her before now. And yet if what is being reported is true, especially in regards to that boy of hers, then the woman truly has gone mad…”

Harry knew exactly what Ned was referring to, being that Lysa Arryn supposedly breastfeeds her son in open court, despite Robin Arryn being more than 6 years of age. That didn’t mention the horde of other reports of Lysa succumbing to madness, to the point where some of the Vale Lords were sending missives to the Crown, begging them to intervene.

It was something Harry was completely unaware of until Ned Stark rode back into the capital to inform him. King’s Landing was still deserted of Lords and Ladies while the Wildfire caches were being removed, with King Robert and his court camping out in the Kingswood. Supposedly Robert viewed the disaster as an excuse to go on an extravagant hunting trip, and was enjoying his days hunting while drinking and whoring his ass off at night.

And while that happened, Ned was working tirelessly at being Hand of the King despite living out of a tent away from the Red Keep. Harry could tell how tired and fed-up his uncle was just by looking at the man, with Ned’s tolerance seemed to have reached a breaking point once the news from the Vale came in.

Only a few knew about what was really going on inside the Vale, with several Lords managing to get ravens sent to the rest of the realm before things got too out of hand. Lysa Arryn was allegedly rebelling against the Crown, doing so while ruling in Robin Arryn’s stead since the boy was too young.

From the letters Ned shared, along with what Varys spies managed to get through, the woman had become mad with rage directed at the Crown. At first it seemed that the death of her husband, Jon Arryn, had driven her to such a point, but in fact it was Petyr Baelish’s demise that did so.

Apparently the Halls of the Eyrie were filled with the woman’s anguished cries upon receiving news of Littlefinger’s death. Immediately after, Lysa Arryn had been inconsolable, and had to be restrained by her guards as the woman tried to throw herself through the Moon Door until she was finally sedated by a Maester.

Luckily, Catelyn Stark’s sister soon got better, just not in the way they would’ve hoped for, as her grief soon turned to rage as she openly fermented rebellion against the Crown. The Halls of the Eyrie were soon filled with wrathful speeches that mentioned Ned and Harry by name, blaming them for bringing harm to the Vale and claiming they played a part in a grand conspiracy that ended with the deaths of Petyr Baelish and Jon Arryn.

It was pure and utter madness to say the least, and was only getting worse by the day. Lysa Arryn was trying to convince her fellow Lords that all of this was a grand plot by the Starks and Lannisters to usurp power, claiming that the Queen’s subordinates poisoned Jon Arryn while Ned had Harry use his sorcery to control Robert behind the scenes. The woman even went as far at to tie Robb into the mix, claiming that him wedding Myrcella was part of their grand plan, tying the knot between Houses Stark and Lannister in their lust for power.

It was becoming obvious what all of this was leading to, and that Westeros would soon have another war on its hands unless Lysa was stopped. With that said, Harry knew they would have to act quickly before Lysa Arryn gained too much momentum. The last thing they needed were the knights of the Vale riding out and setting fire to the rest of the realm on the orders of some madwoman.

“What’s the plan?” Harry finally asked, realizing just why his uncle risked traveling into the city to meet with him.

Ned grimaced. “Tell me how things are going here first. I wish to know the status of the wildfire removal.”

“It’s almost done.” Harry answered simply. “Only a few more barrels are left underneath the Red Keep, and should be removed in the coming days. All of the caches under the main gates and thoroughfares have been removed, and its really just the Sept of Baelor that has the most left.”

“Good. You’ve risen above and beyond your station to solve this crisis.” Ned’s expression looked more content and open than Harry had ever seen before. “I am proud of you, Harry, and I know my brother would be overjoyed to see what you’ve accomplished.”

He nodded shakily, swallowing down the emotions that threatened to drown him in that moment. In his last life, he had never really had any real family, and so he wasn’t used to moments like this. The Dursleys had been blood relatives, yet treated him like dirt, while the Weasleys were the closest thing he could call to actual family, even though they weren’t directly related to him.

Yet in this life he was a bastard, his parents being long deceased, with Ned being more of a distant figure than an actual caring uncle. That wasn’t to mention Catelyn Stark hating his guts, along with the complicated relationship Harry had with with his cousins. On top of it all was the Westerosi medieval-type family dynamics that was even more archaic than the pureblood traditions he had seen in his past life.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Ned smiled, before his expression returned to its usual seriousness. “I want you to go to the Eyrie and do what you can. We cannot allow the realm to descend into another war, especially with the Vale as our enemy.”

“I understand.”

There were several options in front of him then. The most obvious was to simply kill Lysa just like he did to Roose Bolton’s bastard, Ramsey, which would technically solve the whole mess. Or he could organize some of the Vale Lords into pulling a coup and removing Robin from his mother’s custody. There was also the option of using his magic to solve the situation, manipulating prominent Lords behind the scenes into falling in line.

He would have to infiltrate the Eyrie first and get a readout on the situation before he made such a decision. For all Harry knew, Lysa could’ve been blackmailed into acting in such a way, and was an unwilling actor in this whole mess.

/////

Oberyn Martell

“Oh Oberyn! So good!”

His wonderful paramour moaned wonderfully beneath him as he made love to her, his hips bucking against her bum before he spilled his seed deep into her core. Ellaria writhed and shook in pleasure from his onslaught, her sweaty form falling against his own as their afternoon fucking came to a conclusion.

The tent smelled of sex and Dornish incense, its floor carpeted while candles lit up the interior. In the middle laid a bed that was a mess of sheets, upon which Oberyn and his lover had been fornicating for the past several hours. There wasn't much else to do in a tent in the middle of a forest, and Oberyn was in no position to go hunting with his body still bruised and battered from fighting the Mountain.

Like most of the Lords, they had fled King’s Landing for the safety of the Kingswood, staying with Robert Baratheon’s court as they did so. It was a decision he regretted in hindsight, wishing he had instead gone to Duskendale or even Tumbleton rather than spend any more time around the Usurper and his cronies.

“Why do we stay here, Oberyn?” Ellaria complained as she laid against him then. “If I have to see the Usurper drunk and pawing at the tits of some whore one more time, then I might slip some tears of Lys into his drink.”

“You’re not the only one.” He nearly growled, irritated that he had to attend feasts with the man every night and witness such behavior. “But we have to stay with the court at least until my niece gets married. The day after that, we’ll take the first ship back to Dorne.”

“Speaking of your niece, the guards caught her sneaking out last night.” Ellaria smiled in amusement. “Apparently, she was trying to get back to the city to see her lover.”

“That would make it… what? Six times now?” Oberyn pondered aloud. The guards around Arianne’s tent weren’t so much there to protect her anymore, but rather to make sure she wouldn’t escape.

Upon learning of the wildfire, Oberyn had fled the Red Keep and followed the rest of the court to the Kingswood with his entire retinue. Of course, Arianne had insisted on remaining behind with her lover, something Oberyn simply couldn’t allow.

And now his niece seemed intent on getting to the Red Keep and back into Hadrian Snow’s arms. Or rather, she seemed intent on getting back to the boy and impaling herself upon his cock. Oberyn wasn’t blind to what Arianne was up to in her spare time with her betrothed, and Ellaria only confirmed his suspicions when she remarked that Arianne was ‘well-fucked’.

Stupid Northerners. Oberyn’s brow twitched in annoyance. He wasn’t blind to how Hadrian Snow attracted female attention, or how he was able to charm not only his niece, but also Ashara Dayne of all people. Guess it wasn’t enough for him that he had to kill the Mountain.

“My Prince!” A guard ran into his tent then, not bothering to alert him beforehand as he quickly fell to one knee. “We’re under attack, my Prince!”

“What?!” Oberyn barked, shooting up from the bed and heading over to throw on some light armor before he grabbed his spear.

“It’s the Stormlanders, my Lord!” The guard explained as he changed. “They’ve reached Princess Arianne’s tent, and they’re led by— GAH!”

A thrown spear from outside interrupted the man, impaling him in the back and causing him to fall to the ground. Oberyn quickly ran outside the tent, and found a terrible sight waiting for him.

All of his men were dead or in the process of being slaughtered, with a heavily-armed force of Baratheon men-at-arms being the perpetrators. It didn’t take him long to see just who led the group, as Renly Baratheon marched forward with a horde of men guarding him closely. They weren’t taking any chances, and there was no way Oberyn could fight through the entire group to reach Renly before being slain.

“Oberyn Martell, how kind of you to join us.” Renly Baratheon smirked.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He boomed. “I demand answers for this treachery!”

“You see, Prince Oberyn, with the death of my brother Robert, along with Prince Joffrey, I am now King.” Renly stated easily, making Oberyn reel back in shock at his words. “Kneel and pledge Dorne’s fealty to me, and I will see House Martell rewarded.”

Robert Baratheon is dead? Along with Joffrey? Normally he would’ve been jumping for joy upon learning such news, but in that moment he only had an instant to process what Renly was actually saying. He’s trying to become King.

“Fealty? Rewarded?” He laughed incredulously. “Have you gone mad? If what you say is true, then Tommen Baratheon would now be the Crown Prince. And if not him, then your older brother, Stannis, would be next in line!”

A dark look crossed Renly’s face, and Oberyn immediately knew he had said something wrong. “A shame that you can’t be convinced, Prince Oberyn.”

“Let go of me!” He heard a familiar woman scream, as Arianne was dragged over then, kicking and flailing against her assailants. But it was no use, as the men who held her were experienced heavily-armored knights.

“Arianne!” Oberyn roared, before turning back to Renly. “Release her!”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Renly easily replied with a lofty smirk. “Just because you won’t be convinced, doesn’t mean I can’t persuade your brother. I doubt that Doran Martell would want his only daughter to die, after all. Guards, kill him.”

He internally swore, looking around to see he was surrounded on all sides by spearmen wielding heavy shields. And while Oberyn was certainly good, he simply wasn't good enough to fight through so many men unscathed. He was going to die here.

Such a realization would have shaken most men, by Oberyn Martell wasn’t most men. He had faced almost certain death many times before, and had long ago accepted that he would eventually die. The only question on his mind now was how to hurt Renly Baratheon the most.

Renly was too well guarded. But that didn’t mean all of Renly’s men were so well defended that Oberyn couldn’t hurt them. Close to Renly, but far enough away that he wasn’t protected by his own guards, stood Loras Tyrell.

Oberyn had heard the rumors about the flower knight, being that him and Renly were fellow sword-swallowers, being in a relationship. It made him the perfect target for Oberyn’s ire, someone unsuspecting who he could kill before he went down.

He grasped his spear as the men around him inched forward, knowing that he would soon be impaled on all sides. It was a movement he had performed a thousand times before, hoisting the spear upwards before bringing it back, at least until the flex of his muscle slammed it forward and sent it sailing through the air.

His target only registered that it was meant for him at the last second, leaning to the side as Oberyn Martell predicted he would do. The poisoned spear impaled Loras Tyrell right in the opening of his armor, between the breastplate and the shoulder pauldron.

/////

Eddard Stark

Water splashed against his face as he washed off the sweat and grime that had accumulated from the southron heat. Even though he had been been living in King’s Landing for quite some time, his Northern body refused do adjust to the hot temperatures south of the Neck.

The stress of being Hand of the King wrought its own toll on his body, one that made him feel the crushing weight of the realm weighing on his shoulders. Ned could certainly see why Jon Arryn, a man who was the pinnacle of health, would succumb to the pressures of such a position. Something that wasn’t helped by Robert’s incessant hunting and whoring.

Ned had managed to avoid joining Robert for a hunt that day, something that he had to argue with the King about before his friend finally set off. That didn’t mean he left without some form of entertainment, as Robert practically dragged Joffrey along with him on his hunt, something that Queen Cersei was not pleased over. At least he’s bringing his son and not a whore this time.

That left Ned to handle the matters of court, which did not cease, even with the Red Keep temporarily abandoned. Lords seeking a royal audience actively flocked to the Kingswood, and became Ned’s responsibility once they arrived since Robert was too ‘busy’ to meet with them.

That wasn’t to mention the dire matters of the Vale, along with the missives from Houses Royce and Waynwood about the deteriorating situation. It hurt Ned to have to burden Harry once more, especially when it came to preventing a war of all things, but it was the best option he had. Another war, especially against the Vale, would be devastating to the security of the realm, and it best to snuff out a rebellion before it could begin.

I should reward him. His bastard nephew needed some form of compensation once things were settled. A Lordship of some sort? Perhaps a keep on Sea Dragon Point? Or maybe even Moat Cailin. The Martells might also have something in mind.

“My Lord!” A Stark guardsman suddenly ran into his tent before kneeling, his face covered in sweat as Ned stiffened in place. “Urgent news!”

“What is it?!” He barked.

“King Robert has been injured, my Lord!” The words made the blood in Ned’s veins freeze. “He was attacked by a boar during his hunt!”

“What is the King’s condition? What of those with him?” Ned quickly asked, not wasting a breathe.

“The news is… not good, my Lord.” The guard seemed apprehensive. “They say he is unlikely to make it. And there is also news on his son…”

Ned blinked. “Joffrey? What happened to the Crown Prince?”

“The Crown Prince was also present on the hunt, and is said to be badly injured as well…”

His mind did a tailspin, his stomach dropped, and his legs froze as he struggled to comprehend such a disaster. Robert had been hunting for over a moon since they arrived at the Kingswood, and there had been no accidents or rumors of foul play until now.

If both the King and his heir were to die, it would spell disaster for the realm. While Ned certainly didn’t like Joffrey, the boy technically was old enough to sit on the Iron Throne and rule. Tommen on the other hand, was far too young, and Queen Cersei would be forced to rule in his stead if his older brother was to die. Such a situation was not unheard of, but certainly not desirable.

“Take me to the King now!”

He whispered a prayer under his breath, following the guard out while desperately hoping that Robert still lived.

It was right as he was about to open the flap of his tent that he heard it, the clash of steel in the distance. It took Ned only a moment to realize that it wasn’t the sound of knights training in the yard nor some out of control melee, but rather that of battle. It was the sound of men being slain and shields being splintered, of heavy armor bashed open intermixed with the clash of swords.

His greatsword, Ice, was in his hand in but a moment, as Ned was soon charging through the camp with a horde of men at his back. Loyal Stark guards, Gold Cloaks from the North that were charged with protecting their camp, and even some Lannister men-at-arms followed him as he chased the sound of battle.

They sprinted past thick threes and expensive tents belonging to Lords from all over the realm. Ahead he could see smoke arising from part of the campground on the outskirts, the same area where the clash of steel originated, and yet he could no longer hear any fighting.

He soon arrived to find burned tents and slayed Dornish men-at-arms littering the ground, the attackers having long vanished. But there was still one man left alive, his body standing upright while impaled on half a dozen spears that were staked into the ground.

“Prince Oberyn?” Ned couldn’t help but ask in astonishment.

“Ned Stark…” The Red Viper of Dorne was covered in blood. It dripped from his mouth as he the spears impaling his body held him standing like some gruesome monument. “Why do you have to be the last person I see before I die?”

Ned grimaced, realizing there was no point in refuting the man’s words. “In my experience, no one dies a graceful death.”

“No, I suppose not.” Oberyn seemed amused as his bloody lips quirked upwards, before his expression turned to despair. “I-It was Renly who did it. T-They took Arianne.”

Renly took her, and you died defending her. Ned slowly understood what had happened. “Do you have any regrets?”

He could see the life fading from Oberyn Martell’s eyes. “L-Lorch, I should have killed Lorch. But at least Clegane is dead.”

Oberyn Martell died as Ned watched on, all while his men worked in the background to search for survivors and secure the campsite. Soon, riders came in with dire news as Ned began to realize just how terrible the situation had become.

“Lord Renly has gone missing with his men, my Lord!”

“Queen Cersei and Prince Tommen are safe and secure, and are headed back to the Red Keep!”

Then came the news that Ned dreaded the most, yet it was the only explanation as to how a disaster like this could have happened.

“The King is dead! His Grace, Robert Baratheon is deceased, along with his son and heir, Prince Joffrey Baratheon!”

Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18

A/N:

Renly is an asshole.

Just like in canon, Robert’s body was barely even cold and Renly was already scheming to become king. In this scenario, he saw an opening with Robert and Joffrey being dead, and took it.

War will soon begin