Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Far across the Narrow Sea on Dragonstone, Tony learned Rickon was dead.

He smashed the fresh-forged armor with one furious swing. The pieces scattered across the stone floor.

"Who the hell did this?" he growled. "Robert? Cersei? That little shit Joffrey?"

Victor stood ready. "My lord. Say the word and we move."

"No," Tony said, voice low and cold. "The killer's still in the shadows. But he'll pay. Every last one of them will pay."

He clapped Victor on the shoulder. "First shipment of dragonglass is loaded. Take it to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea yourself. Make sure it gets there fast."

"What about you, my lord?" Victor asked.

Diana stepped out from the shadows, a stack of letters in her hand and a dangerous little smile on her face. "What about me?"

Victor looked at the slim girl like she was a porcelain doll. "You?"

"I'm a professionally trained Black Widow," Diana purred. "I can keep him alive."

Victor's eyes narrowed with sudden caution.

A runner arrived. "Master. Word from across the Narrow Sea."

Tony read the letter twice. The Lhazareen sheep people had captured a Dothraki khal alive. Even Drogo had never managed that.

He folded the letter. "The Narrow Sea can wait. Right now we find Rickon's killer and deal with whatever's coming out of the North. Victor, get that dragonglass moving."

Catelyn had meant to take Sansa with her. At the last moment she changed her mind. The roads were too dangerous. She left her daughter behind and rode north with a small escort.

Ned hadn't left her completely unprotected.

As Hand of the King he ordered Thoros of Myr and Ser Beric Dondarrion to ride with her. Both men were skilled fighters and followers of the Lord of Light. If anything unnatural crossed their path, they could handle it.

Catelyn boarded the ship at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. She stood at the rail and looked back at King's Landing one last time.

The city sprawled across the north bank and three hills. Aegon's High Hill held the Red Keep. Visenya's Hill carried the shining crystal towers of the Great Sept. Rhaenys's Hill was crowned by the broken bronze dome of the Dragonpit.

It was the heart of the realm. To Catelyn it still felt smaller and meaner than Winterfell or Riverrun.

"My lady," Thoros said gently. "We should go."

"Keep her safe on the road, Ser," she told Beric.

The Lightning Lord grinned. "It's an honor. Right, Thoros?"

Thoros laughed.

In the Red Keep, Ned stood beside Robert as the lords arrived.

Even the North had sent someone. Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort stepped forward, pale and quiet.

Robert's smile was wide but his eyes were sharp. "Lord Bolton. Ned said the North wouldn't send anyone. Why are you really here?"

Roose bowed. "We heard Lord Eddard's youngest son was murdered. The North is uneasy. No one else would come. So I did."

Robert's face darkened. He turned on Ned. "Your boy is dead and you didn't tell me?"

"Cat went north to handle it," Ned said quietly. "I'm your Hand. I couldn't leave you. And we're brothers."

Robert pulled him into a rough hug, laughing and swearing at the same time.

Stannis and Renly watched in silence. Their jaws were tight.

Lords kept arriving. Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, came alone from the Vale. He had resigned as Knight of the Gate the moment Lysa forbade him to answer the king's call.

"Uncle," Ned said, surprised and glad.

Robert clapped the older man on the back. "Blackfish! About damn time."

Brynden delivered Lysa's stiff greetings and nothing more.

Then the Tyrells arrived in force. Olenna Redwyne led them, sharp-eyed and smiling like a blade wrapped in silk. Mace introduced his children with pride.

Loras, the Knight of Flowers, needed no introduction.

Willas sat in a wheeled chair, calm and steady. Garlan stood broad and solid beside him.

Margaery curtsied. Her eyes were wide and dark, like a doe's. Robert greeted her warmly.

Later, Willas had himself pushed over to Ned.

"Lord Eddard," he said. "Is your nephew Tony here? I'd like to speak with him."

"He's on Dragonstone," Ned answered. "He'll be back soon. If it's urgent I can send a raven and tell him to hurry."

Willas nodded and rolled away.

Ned watched the young man in the chair and felt a cold drop of sweat slide down his spine.

His own sons flashed through his mind. Robb. Bran. Rickon.

A sudden, ugly thought took root.

What if one of them ended up like that?

He wiped his brow and said nothing.