Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The morning sun rose over King's Landing, its golden light spilling over the Red Keep. Lord Eddard Stark rode through the city streets, his men following closely behind, their faces grim but determined. Today, he would end the charade. Today, the truth of Joffrey's parentage would be revealed.

But something was wrong.

As they reached the gates of the Red Keep, Ned noticed an absence that gnawed at him like a dull blade—Damon Waters was missing. The young knight who had shadowed him these past weeks, who had spoken reason when others ignored it, was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" Ned murmured, his voice barely audible above the clatter of hooves.

Jory Cassel, his loyal captain, shook his head. "No sign of him, my lord. He didn't return to his chambers last night."

A cold sense of foreboding settled in Ned's stomach, but he pushed it aside. There was no time to dwell on one missing man.

As he rode forward, a second realization struck him—Renly Baratheon and his men were gone. The younger Baratheon had promised his support if they took the throne by force, yet his banners were absent from the Red Keep. The wolves had entered the lion's den alone.

The Throne Room Betrayal

The great doors of the Throne Room swung open, revealing Cersei Lannister seated regally at the base of the Iron Throne, her emerald eyes sharp as a viper's. Joffrey sat beside her, the golden crown of a boy-king perched atop his curls.

Ned stepped forward, the royal decree in hand, proof of Robert Baratheon's dying wish that he serve as regent. Behind him, the northern guards and the Gold Cloaks stood ready. Littlefinger, standing off to the side, watched with his usual smirk.

"Your Grace," Ned addressed Joffrey formally. "I come with King Robert's final decree. He named me Protector of the Realm until his true heir comes of age."

Cersei's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Ah, yes. The piece of paper."

She waved a delicate hand, and before Ned could react, the Gold Cloaks turned on his men. Swords flashed in the morning light, northern warriors were cut down where they stood. Jory Cassel barely had time to draw his blade before a spear was driven through his gut.

Littlefinger approached Ned, stepping close enough that only he could hear his whisper. "I did warn you not to trust me."

Before he could react, Ned felt a sharp pain—a dagger pressed against his throat. The world spun as he was forcibly dragged from the throne room, his vision darkening as the sound of screams filled the air.

The Search for Arya & Sansa's Capture

In the chaos, Arya Stark vanished.

Guards stormed the Red Keep, searching for the youngest Stark daughter, but she was nowhere to be found. 

But Sansa Stark was not so lucky.

The young lady was seized from her chambers before she even understood what was happening. She was locked away, trapped behind thick wooden doors, her cries for help ignored.

As the hours passed, reality began to sink in. She was alone. Her father, her sister, Damon—gone.

She sat on her bed, hands clenched into fists. Where was Damon? Why had he disappeared? He had always been there to answer her questions, to flirt with her when she felt uncertain. But now? Now she was left to face her nightmares alone.

Varys and Ned's Cell Conversation

In the damp darkness of the Black Cells, Ned Stark sat in chains. His hands, once meant to wield a sword and write decrees, were bound in iron.

The door creaked open, and Varys slipped inside, his robes whispering against the cold stone.

"A pity," Varys murmured, stepping closer. "You could have left, Lord Stark. You could have taken your daughters and fled to Winterfell."

Ned exhaled, his shoulders heavy with regret. "I had to do what was right."

Varys' expression was unreadable. "Right? Right does not keep men alive in King's Landing."

Ned looked up at him. "Will they kill me?"

Varys hesitated. "Perhaps. But if you kneel, if you swear loyalty to Joffrey, they may show mercy. For Sansa's sake."

At the mention of his daughter, Ned closed his eyes. He had already failed her once. Could he fail her again?

Cersei's Demand & Sansa's Choice

Cersei Lannister visited Sansa in the evening, her green eyes calculating. Sansa had never felt so small.

"Write to your brother," Cersei instructed, placing a quill and parchment before her. "Tell him to swear fealty to King Joffrey. Tell him that if he bends the knee, your father will live."

Sansa hesitated, her fingers trembling. "Will he really be spared?"

Cersei smiled sweetly, brushing a strand of Sansa's hair behind her ear. "Of course, my dear. Joffrey is merciful."

Desperate, frightened, and alone, Sansa picked up the quill.

The King in the North

But in Winterfell, Robb Stark received no such mercy.

The letter arrived, bearing his sister's delicate script. It reeked of manipulation, of a plea made under duress.

And so, with fury in his heart, Robb Stark raised his banners.

"The Lannisters have taken my father. They hold my sister hostage. They think we will kneel."

He turned to his lords, his voice steady, his resolve unbreakable.

"We will not kneel. We will fight."

The Great Hall of Winterfell erupted with voices, swords drawn and raised to the ceiling.

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

War had begun.