Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Ned Stark sat in the Tower of the Hand and felt the weight of the realm pressing down on his shoulders. He wanted to help the Night's Watch, but he was stuck in King's Landing while Robb—only fourteen—tried to hold Winterfell together. If the boy could rally the Northern lords without Ned there, it would prove he was ready to rule. If not, the North would bleed for it.

Being Hand was breaking him. The only peace he found was at night, when he could eat a whole roast duck and sleep without dreaming of ledgers and lies.

Today Tony was leaving for Dragonstone. Ned, Catelyn, and the girls came to see him off.

"Watch yourself on Stannis's island," Ned said. "Follow their rules while you're there."

"I will," Tony answered. Then he looked at Sansa and Arya. "While I'm gone, find them teachers. Real ones. King's Landing is full of knives. One wrong step and they'll disappear."

Ned glanced at his daughters. Sansa had grown tall, carrying the long limbs of House Tully. She would make a fine knight. Arya was smaller, quicker, with Lyanna's wildness in her eyes. She would make a fine blade in the dark.

Catelyn didn't object. Ned took that as permission.

"Good," he said. "But good teachers are hard to find. They're very different girls."

Tony smiled. "Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos, is in the city. He's held the title for nine years. His water dancing would suit Arya perfectly."

Arya's eyes lit up. "Can he really beat a Kingsguard?"

"On his best day? Probably."

Ned rubbed his chin. "And Sansa?"

"Brienne of Tarth. She serves Renly. Tyrion says she beat Loras Tyrell so badly he still limps when he thinks no one's watching. She's Kingsguard level. She can teach Sansa how to fight like a proper knight."

Ned blinked. "A woman knight?"

"Rare," Tony agreed. "But she exists."

Ned nodded. "I'll send for both of them in the name of the Hand."

After Catelyn took the girls away, Ned kept Tony behind.

"You've read every scroll in the Citadel," Ned said quietly. "Tell me how to survive this job. I can rule the North. This… this is different."

Tony poured them both wine and sat down. "You're drowning, Uncle. Robert gave you the Hand's pin so he wouldn't have to rule. You don't have to carry it alone. Create a Deputy Hand. A second-in-command with full authority when you're gone or overwhelmed."

Ned frowned. "A what?"

"Call it whatever you want. A second Hand. Someone who can sign your name and make decisions when you can't. The realm is too big for one man."

Ned was quiet for a long time. "Who would you choose?"

"Tywin Lannister has twenty years of experience. Mace Tyrell is the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oberyn Martell has seen more of the world than most. Renly or Stannis both have royal blood. Even Tyrion could do it."

Ned's mouth tightened at the last name.

Tony leaned forward. "Don't judge a man by his size, Uncle. Tyrion's head is bigger than most. And his brain is even bigger."

Ned stared at him, then suddenly laughed despite himself. "You really believe that?"

"I do. Offer the position. Let Robert decide. If he agrees, you might actually sleep again."

---

The next morning Ned dragged Robert to the Small Council chamber. The other lords looked shocked to see the king actually attend.

Robert slumped into his chair with a cup of wine. "Go on, Ned. Tell them your idea."

Ned stood. "I am not fit to carry the full burden of the Hand alone. I propose we create a Deputy Hand—a second voice with the full authority of my office when I am absent or overwhelmed."

The chamber went very still.

Pycelle's eyes opened wider. Littlefinger's fingers stopped drumming. Varys tilted his head like a curious bird. Renly smiled like he already knew the game. Stannis's face gave nothing away.

Ned continued. "The Deputy Hand would hold every power I hold. When I cannot act, he can."

Renly spoke first. "And who would you name for this… second Hand?"

Ned listed them without hesitation. "Tywin Lannister. Mace Tyrell. Prince Oberyn Martell. Lord Renly. Lord Stannis. And Lord Tyrion Lannister."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Ned looked around the table. "We vote. The king and I each have two votes. The rest of you have one. You may vote for yourselves. Choose wisely. This decision will shape the realm."

No one moved to speak first.

Every man in the room understood that whoever won this vote would stand only one step below the king himself.