Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The flames of war consumed the Riverlands. The banners of the Direwolf marched south, and for the first time since Aegon's Conquest, the North rode as one.

The Young Wolf Strikes

Robb Stark, barely more than a boy, had done the impossible. With his 20,000-strong army, he moved swiftly through the Riverlands, using the land's rivers and forests to outmaneuver the Lannisters. His first major victory came at the Battle of the Whispering Wood, where he launched a surprise attack on Jaime Lannister's forces.

The Kingslayer, arrogant and overconfident, had been caught completely unprepared. The northern army surrounded his men in the night, cutting down hundreds before they could react. Jaime himself fought viciously, carving through Stark soldiers with his golden blade, but even he could not win against overwhelming numbers.

When dawn broke, Jaime Lannister knelt in chains before Robb Stark.

The Lannister army was shattered, with thousands killed or captured. Jaime's men had either surrendered or fled, leaving Tywin Lannister stranded with half his forces far to the south. Robb had split the Lannister army in two, dealing them their first true defeat in the war.

As the news of Jaime's capture spread, the war changed.

The Riverlords rallied to Robb, pledging their allegiance to the King in the North.

The banners of Stark, Tully, and the Riverlands stood united, and for the first time in the war, the North looked like it might truly win.

Terror in King's Landing

While war raged beyond the walls, King's Landing turned darker with each passing day.

Joffrey Baratheon, in his twisted attempt to prove himself, began his reign of terror.

One by one, Sansa's friends were executed.

Septa Mordane, the kind-faced woman who had raised Sansa with lessons of ladylike grace, was dragged from her chambers and beheaded in the yard, her severed head placed on a spike beside Ned Stark's loyal men.

Jane Poole, her childhood friend, was ripped from her chambers, screaming for her father. She was taken away, and Sansa never saw her again.

Sansa had begged for mercy, pleaded with Joffrey to show kindness, but the boy-king only laughed, telling her this was the way of kings.

He made her watch.

"You will learn," Joffrey had sneered, dragging her toward the battlements. "Look at them, Sansa. Look at what happens to traitors."

She had tried to turn away, but Ser Meryn Trant held her head forward, forcing her to look.

Her body shook, her heart hammering. She was alone now. Her father was gone, Arya was missing, and the few who had shown her kindness were dead.

Damon was gone.

She had hoped, foolishly, that he might have saved her. That he would return and stand beside her. But no one came. No one ever would.

She was a prisoner in every sense of the word.

The Plea Deal

Deep within the Black Cells, Eddard Stark lay weak and broken.

The once-proud Warden of the North sat on a cold stone bench, his body aching from hunger and wounds. He had lost everything. His men. His honor. His freedom.

And yet, it was not his suffering that troubled him most.

It was Sansa.

The cell door creaked open, and through the dim candlelight, Varys entered. The Spider moved with practiced silence, his hands folded beneath his robes, his face unreadable.

"Lord Stark," he greeted, his voice calm, almost soft. "I bring an offer."

Ned looked up, his eyes filled with exhaustion. "An offer?"

Varys sighed, stepping closer. "Queen Cersei has decided to show… mercy. If you confess to treason, if you acknowledge Joffrey as the rightful king, she will allow you to take the black."

Ned exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "She expects me to kneel? To grovel before the boy who murdered my men?"

Varys' expression did not change. "She expects you to save your daughter."

Ned's breath caught. "Sansa?"

Varys nodded. "Your daughter still remains in court. She has been pleading for your life. She believes Joffrey will listen." He paused, letting the words sink in. "He will not. But if you confess, she will live."

Ned clenched his fists. "And Arya?"

Varys hesitated. "Arya is… missing."

A flicker of something stirred in Ned's chest. Hope. If Arya had escaped, perhaps she still had a chance. But Sansa was trapped.

"Lord Stark," Varys continued, his voice lowering, "I do not enjoy seeing men like you fall. I am not your enemy. But you are a dead man if you refuse this deal. More importantly, Sansa is as well."

Ned stared down at the cold stone beneath him. The weight of the North pressed upon his shoulders. His sons, his home, his people—he had a duty to them.

And yet, what was duty against the life of his child?

After a long moment, he exhaled.

"I will do what must be done."

Varys inclined his head. "A wise choice. I will inform the Queen."

As the eunuch turned to leave, Ned closed his eyes.

The great wolf had fallen.