Early September, the Riverlands.
The fires of war raged across the land.
Tywin Lannister personally led twenty thousand n in a sweeping campaign through the Riverlands. Wherever his army went, castles surrendered without a fight. One by one, the banners of House Tully fell, and fortress after fortress was captured.
Except for a few strongholds such as Riverrun, the Twins, and Seagard, almost the entire Riverlands had fallen into Lannister hands.
At this mont, the lion's army was marching toward Harrenhal.
That legendary colossal castle, once belonging to Black Harren, was about to welco a new master.
At the sa ti, the Northern army had reached the Twins.
Catelyn Tully was engaged in difficult negotiations with Walder Frey.
That ninety-year-old fox had finally found his favorite position in this war — waiting to sell his services to the highest bidder.
In the end, Catelyn used Robb's betrothal as leverage to secure passage across the ford and three thousand six hundred Frey soldiers.
The Northern army finally crossed the Green Fork.
The young Young Wolf, Robb Stark, was beginning to show remarkable military talent.
He split his forces into two.
He personally led one column of five thousand cavalry — including roughly one thousand Frey horsen — racing to relieve Riverrun.
The other column, commanded by Roose Bolton, consisted of approximately seventeen thousand two hundred infantry marching south along the Kingsroad to pin down Tywin's main force.
It was a bold gamble.
But Robb had no other choice.
King's Landing, Red Keep Dungeons.
The sound of dripping water echoed in the darkness — drip, drip — like the lting snow of spring in Winterfell.
Eddard Stark leaned against the damp stone wall. The iron chains clinked softly with every breath he took.
He no longer felt the cold. Perhaps the dungeon's chill had already seeped into his bones, or perhaps the pain of his shattered honor had overwheld all physical suffering.
He thought not of his impending death.
He thought of Sansa.
His daughter who had dread of knights and songs since childhood was now trapped in so room in the Red Keep, surrounded by Cersei's smiles and lies. It was he who had brought her into this lion's den.
He had told her King's Landing was a beautiful city, full of princes and grand tourneys and everything she had ever dread of.
He had not told her that in the ga of thrones, princesses often beca re pawns.
He thought of Arya.
His stubborn, wolf-pup daughter, now lost sowhere in the alleys of King's Landing — if she was still alive.
Ned closed his eyes, rembering the last ti he had seen her practicing swordplay. He prayed that the Braavosi water dancer could protect her.
He thought of Robb.
His eldest son was now leading an army south.
Seventeen-year-old Robb had to face Tywin Lannister's tens of thousands alone.
Ned knew his son was clever and brave, but a seventeen-year-old boy should not have to bear such burdens.
He should have been teaching him better governance in the yard of Winterfell. He should have watched him marry and have children. He should have held his grandchildren on his knee in his old age.
But there would be no old age.
The man who had betrayed him was Littlefinger.
Ned still found it hard to believe. His wife Catelyn had told him Littlefinger was the most trustworthy person. He had thought Littlefinger would at least rember old affections and stand with him.
But he had forgotten that Littlefinger had once said: "My life has been a long ga."
And he, Ned Stark, had been playing poker by the rules of a chessboard until the very end.
Perhaps his father had been right.
Perhaps the South truly was not for him.
In the North, n kept their word and honored their promises. In the North, when you drew your sword, you knew the other man would draw his too — not stab you in the back when you turned around.
He thought of Robert.
The brother he had grown up with in the Vale, the man who could once laugh loud enough to shake dust from the rafters, had died under a wild boar's tusks. He died because of his own pride and foolishness.
Robert had died without ever knowing his three children were not his own.
When Cersei had co to visit him in the dungeon, he had asked her: "Are you not afraid?"
That golden-haired woman had smiled, beautiful and cruel. "In the ga of thrones, you win… or you die. There is no middle ground."
Ned understood now.
He thought of Jon.
The child he had brought back from the Tower of Joy, the secret he had promised Lyanna to protect. He had told Robert that Jon was his bastard, trading a lifeti of honor for that promise.
Now that promise was being fulfilled at the Wall, wearing black and guarding the realm.
Perhaps that was right. Perhaps the Wall was where Jon belonged. There were no gas of thrones there — only real enemies… the cold, death, and things that had slept for a thousand years.
The dungeon door creaked open.
Ned lifted his head, expecting the guards coming to take him to execution.
But it was only a servant carrying a food basket.
Ned lowered his head, paying no attention.
Then he heard an unfamiliar voice.
"Lord Eddard."
Ned jerked his head up.
The servant was looking at him. In his hand was a strangely shaped "cutter."
It was a long-handled bolt cutter, glinting coldly in the dim light.
Snap.
Snap.
A few crisp sounds.
The rusty manacles binding Ned's wrists broke.
The ankle chains broke as well.
Ned's eyes widened in disbelief.
The young man, who looked about the sa age as his eldest son Robb, said urgently, "Lord Eddard, I am a man sent by Baron Luke Jaqenion. I have been ordered to rescue you from this prison."
Ned's mind went blank.
Soone… soone dared to break a prisoner out of the Red Keep's dungeons?
This was impossible!
"This is impossible!" he whispered urgently. "The Red Keep is heavily guarded. We cannot escape! You will die, and you will drag Lord Jaqenion down with you!"
The young man nad Stone grew even more anxious.
"Put this on quickly!"
He shoved a "gas mask" onto Ned's face. "There is chaos in the Red Keep right now. We must escape while we can!"
Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Ned and started running.
Thick, white, acrid smoke filled the dungeons.
Prisoners were coughing violently. Guards were coughing too, unable to open their eyes. So clutched their throats and retched, so squatted on the ground crying, so swung their weapons wildly but hit nothing.
Shouts and clashes of battle echoed from outside.
Stone ran ahead, throwing sothing behind them as they ran.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
More clouds of smoke exploded, rapidly filling the entire corridor with thick white fog.
Ned was dragged along, stumbling as they fled.
He didn't know how long they ran.
He only heard the sounds of fighting growing distant, then closer, then distant again.
Finally, they burst out of the dungeons.
But the danger was not over.
"Stop!"
Several guards had spotted them! These two people wearing strange masks were too conspicuous.
"Take off their masks!" the lead guard drew his sword and charged.
Stone didn't waste words. He pulled a dark object from his waist and threw it at the guards.
It was a flashbang!
BOOM—!
A deafening explosion, louder than thunder.
Ned's ears instantly rang. A white flash blinded him, and his mind went blank.
The guards collapsed on the spot, unconscious.
Stone grabbed Ned and kept running.
Behind them, a hunting hound chased after them.
It snarled furiously and sank its teeth into Ned's heel, refusing to let go.
Ned gasped in pain.
Stone turned, pulling a black baton from his waist.
He jabbed the baton into the hound.
Crackle—!
It was a taser. Blue sparks flashed.
The hound let out a pained yelp, released its grip, and collapsed, twitching violently.
Ned was also hit by the electric current and convulsed, nearly falling.
Stone supported him and continued running.
Red Keep, Queen's Chambers.
Cersei was enjoying a cup of Dornish sumr red.
A guard burst in, stumbling.
"Your Grace! Your Grace! Terrible news!"
Cersei frowned. "What is it?"
"Eddard Stark… Eddard Stark has escaped!"
Cersei's wine cup slipped from her hand, red liquid spilling across the floor.
She shot to her feet, her face ashen.
"What?!"
"Soone… soone broke into the dungeons! There are fires everywhere in the Red Keep, and the dungeons are filled with smoke — it's extrely strange! Eddard Stark has been rescued!"
Cersei's chest heaved violently.
She rushed to the window and threw it open.
Outside, the entire city of King's Landing was in chaos. Horns blared continuously. Gold cloaks ran through the streets, shouting "Martial law!" everywhere.
"Search for him!" Her voice was sharp and piercing. "Seal all the city gates! No one is allowed in or out! Dig up the entire city if you must — find him!"
The guard hurried away to obey.
Cersei stood by the window, gripping the sill so tightly her knuckles turned white.
She rembered the look in that man's eyes when he had been in the dungeon. That upright, foolish, damned Northerner.
He had actually escaped.
She turned around and spoke to another guard.
"Go and bring Sansa Stark to ."
A cold smile curved her lips.
Since the father had run away, let the daughter pay the price.
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