Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The air in the Red Keep had grown thick with tension, as though the walls themselves could sense the coming storm. King Robert lay dying, the realm teetered on the edge of chaos, and Lord Eddard Stark stood at the center of it all, still grasping at his ideals, refusing to see the abyss opening beneath his feet.

In the dim glow of his chambers, Varys appeared like a shadow, silent, watchful, his soft voice barely more than a whisper. "Lord Stark, you are making a grave mistake."

Ned turned, frowning. "Mistake? I seek only to do what is right."

Varys sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, my lord, in the game of thrones, righteousness is but a candle in the wind. Robert is dying, and the wolves and lions sharpen their claws. You wish to honor his will? To keep the peace? But peace is an illusion here, my lord."

Ned scowled. "You advise treachery. I will not partake in it."

Varys stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "I advise survival. You are about to make yourself an enemy of the most dangerous woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei will not run. She will not weep. She will strike before you can react."

"Then let her try," Ned muttered.

Varys sighed again. "Oh, my dear lord… the North is strong, but you are alone here. Think carefully before you throw away your life for honor."

With that, the spymaster melted into the shadows, leaving Ned staring after him, his jaw tight with frustration.

Renly's Offer

Not long after, Renly Baratheon sought an audience with Ned. Unlike Varys, Renly did not mince words.

"We should seize the throne now, Lord Stark," he declared as he paced the chamber. "Joffrey is but a boy, and if you declare him illegitimate, my elder brother Stannis will claim the crown. But Stannis is unloved, cold. The realm will never follow him. They will follow me."

Ned studied him carefully. "You speak of treason."

Renly scoffed. "I speak of reality. The Lannisters are moving as we speak. We must strike first. I have men ready. The City Watch could be bought, the throne taken before the lions know what's happened. We could end this before blood spills in the streets."

But Ned Stark, ever honorable, shook his head. "That is not the way. Joffrey is still the heir by law. We must act with proof, not swords."

Renly exhaled in frustration. "Then you are already lost, Lord Stark. The lions will not wait for proof. They will cut you down before you can even present it."

He stormed out, leaving Ned alone in his stubbornness.

A Dangerous Alliance

With both Varys and Renly's warnings dismissed, Ned sought out Petyr Baelish, the only man in King's Landing who could tip the balance in his favor.

In the candlelit chamber, Littlefinger leaned lazily against the table, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Ah, Lord Stark, finally ready to listen to reason?" he asked, sipping his wine.

"I need the support of the City Watch," Ned said, his voice firm. "They will be the key when Robert passes. Can they be trusted?"

Littlefinger tilted his head, considering. "Trust is such a fragile thing here, my lord. You wish to use the Gold Cloaks against the Lannisters? That can be arranged." He paused, swirling his goblet. "But… might I suggest a more delicate approach? Compromise, rather than war?"

Ned's expression darkened. "I will not compromise with Cersei. The throne belongs to Robert's rightful heir."

Littlefinger sighed dramatically. "So noble. So predictable. And so very doomed. But fine, let us do this your way." He leaned forward, smirking. "I will arrange for the City Watch to stand with you when the time comes. You need only give the word."

Ned nodded, convinced that he had secured a crucial piece of the puzzle. But I knew better.

The Last Warning

I had been silent the entire time, standing in the shadows, watching the farce unfold.

Ned turned to me suddenly, his tired eyes meeting mine. "Damon, you've seen everything. What do you think? What would you suggest?"

I met his gaze steadily. I had wanted to stay out of this, but if he was asking…

"Go home, Lord Stark," I said quietly. "Take your daughters and return to Winterfell. Let this game play itself out. The North is strong, but here? Here, you are alone."

Silence fell between us. I could see it in his face—he knew I was right. He knew it was the most feasible choice. But his honor would not let him accept it.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head. "I cannot abandon my duty."

I simply nodded, stepping back. There was nothing more to say.

A Midnight Meeting

That night, as the Red Keep slumbered, I moved quietly through the corridors, slipping through passageways known only to those who paid attention.

I found Ros waiting in the small chamber where we often met in secret. Her sharp eyes studied me as I stepped inside.

"It's time," I murmured.

She nodded. "I've been hearing things. Whispers. The city is about to burn."

I leaned against the wall, exhaling. "Ned won't leave. He's set on this path. Nothing I say will change that."

She crossed her arms. "And you? What path are you choosing?"

I smirked, though there was little humor in it. "The one that keeps me alive."

Ros stepped closer. "So what do we do?"

I met her gaze. "We prepare. We wait. And when the time comes—we move."