The Game is Tied (Genkai & Jester IC)

[Genkai]

The dampened terrain under Lady Stark's feet meant nothing as she parted from her son's camp, leaving a trail of mud and regret behind her.

Her son, Robb Stark, was head of an army which had been hastily gathered in order to secure the safety of Sansa, Arya, Eddard and even the crippled Brandon Stark. The Starks had Winterfell and were a righteous aid to the Seven Kingdoms yet after some surprising twists of deceit, the North needed to break free and rule itself, rather than be under an iron fist. Information was scarce from King's Landing as of late except for a raven from Lord Baelish who spoke of Eddard's arrest and the daughters being held as hostages. Needless to say, Catelyn Stark had a lot on her plate, her eldest son was starting a war, her youngest sons were in Winterfell and her daughters were being held in King's Landing, one to be wed to the monster of a boy, Joffery. And then her husband, Ned was now being charged with treason, something which she knew was a lie. As she climbed atop her horse, she found herself wrestling with where to go. Cat felt her heart pulling her in every direction. Should she remain with Robb or go home or confront King's Landing? Or should she go to Riverrun or return to the Eyrie? It was at this moment, that Catelyn wished she didn't have so many children to keep track of. Of course she loved them all dearly, though Jon Snow was a sore spot for her and a sorrow she wished not to drown in at the moment, and it was her love for them which made her press onward. Taking the reins in her hands, she spurred the horse onward and pushed herself away from Robb's camp.

He would be fine, she needed to go to Winterfell and ensure Bran and Rickon were just as well. So the woman rode for several hours until the afternoon sunlight dwindled away and she had to find a place to rest for a few hours. Despite being Lady of Winterfell, she knew she couldn't trust many former allies now that the North was making its move for King's Landing. Alliances might be compromised. Cat found a place in the woods and tied up her horse and walked around, ensuring the surrounding area wasn't filled with any danger. Nothing was around her so she found her horse and took a seat on the ground, bracing herself against the trunk of a nearby tree. The winds were blowing, unrelenting as winter was approaching. She prayed that the war and strife would end before winter's arrival, as Winterfell needed to prepare. She wanted her entire family home; safe and sound. She folded her arms over her chest and tried not to think about Arya or Sansa and how frightened they must be. She tried not to think of her sons north of her or Jon Snow beyond the Wall. The one thought she couldn't easily push out of her mind in the darkness of the night, was the safety of her dear husband, Ned. When they first married, it took a lot of time before they were able to trust one another. And with the passing of time, they grew more fond of one another, finding a subtle love unbeknownst to them the day they took their vows. And so many years later, they had made a nice family and after Ned came back from the war, life returned to normal and Cat could feel comforted by the love she never knew she would miss.

The last night before Ned and the girls left for King's Landing was replaying in her mind as she took note of her body's bruises and scars she had acquired in her recent travels. Thankfully the woman was put out of her misery as she fell asleep. When dawn broke, she was woken up by her horse. She got to her feet and looked around. She could hear something approaching. After getting on her horse, she quickly rode off ahead until she reached a small town which only had a few makeshift buildings up on either side of the road. Catelyn tied her horse outside and saw herself into the nearest tavern. No one recognized her as she put a scarf around her head and made her way up to the bar and purchased a bottle of wine and some bread. She took her breakfast over to the corner and quickly began to eat. As she was taking a drink of wine, one of the conversations caught her attention. Two drunkards were talking about how Eddard Stark of Winterfell had been executed in King's Landing in the morning. Cat found herself choking on her wine and tried to keep her outburst to herself. The men mocked Joffery and mentioned Robb and Winterfell but soon the topic changed and Catelyn found her own mind unable to focus on another. Lord Baelish had mentioned Ned's chances of survival were slim but she hadn't allowed herself to seriously consider Ned's fate as he had already been judged perhaps only an hour ago. It seemed juicy gossip flew around quicker than once perceived. Cat rose from her seat and hurried outside as she felt a storm of sickness crash into her.

If Cat had been able to keep track of how long she felt lost in her mourning, she would have known that a week had passed since she found out her husband had been killed. She knew Robb was surely doubling and even tripling his efforts now, wanting to show strength, no mercy. Catelyn knew Winterfell was surely informed of Ned's death which is why she was doing her best to get back as quickly as possible. With her heart terribly wounded, she found herself without her usual strength. Normally, Cat had a striking temper and stubbornness which wouldn't stop her from doing anything. Yet in her mind, when Ned had been killed, a part of her had been sliced away as well. Cat knew she had to be strong, not just for her family but for her namesake. As she traveled along, moving north, she didn't talk to anyone and made a large effort to stay off the main roads. As she found herself needing to rest, she entered another small town. The sun was in the sky, it was around noon. She made her way into a small tavern and was about to get something to eat though she had little appetite when armed men approached her. Cat wasn't well versed in sword fighting though she could handle a bow and arrow fairly well. She made no comment to them as they started to talk about how the Starks were labeled as traitors and how they may get a reward if they captured her for the King. She usually kept a dagger on her at all times and quickly drew it to arm herself. "The King is not my King, nor does he want anything to do with me." She hissed, gripping her weapon tightly though her inner will slightly wavered under the pent up weariness she had been muddling through.

- - -

While Cersei wasn't one of his most favorite people in the area, he could commend her for being almost as sly as him.

Lord Baelish also known as Littlefinger to those from his childhood, was Master of Coin. It was a tiresome profession but he had learned to make it work in his favor. To help generate funds for the land, he used man's lust to set up brothels around the city. It didn't pay off debts but it did help somewhat. All Petyr could do was borrow money and make deals with people. Needless to say he was just preventing poverty as long as he could. And due to those seeing his concerns as merely a pest, not many took his warnings to heart. And when one king died and another took his place, Lord Baelish had to once again try to convince him as well as those on the council to spend money sparingly. But sadly each King wanted a ceremony far more greater than the one they had just taken over for. Petyr had big dreams of having power, having money, having a woman beside him. In these dreams, it was his childhood friend Catelyn who often sat beside him with those endearing eyes of hers. Much to his dismay, she didn't care for him in a romantic way and ended up falling into the clutches of House Stark. So Petyr often pushed himself to run to brothels and manage finance. And his distractions would keep him very much occupied, that is until Cat visited King's Landing to talk to her husband personally. This threw Petyr off slightly but he managed to rebound and soon enough, that husband of hers had fallen into Petyr's clever trap. Now the Lord of Winterfell was down below in the grungy dungeons under the large castle.

That little fact helped him sleep a little better as Joffery was now seated on the Iron Throne and Eddard was surely going to be killed. In the eyes of Catelyn he would be remorseful and a source of comfort. He had sent her a raven to inform her of the dark news. He hadn't heard back from her but that wasn't anything new. As Lord Baelish departed from his main office, one of the whores stopped him and asked about the commotion outside. He brushed it off and left out the front door. He walked along the streets and the odor of the city finally entered his nose. The man made a bit of a face and quickened his pace. The people in King's Landing were starving, homeless, hadn't bathed in ages and were growing tired of the King. He had tried to warn the royals about such an issue but no one seemed capable of understanding the danger of having a restless mob so nearby. As he entered the castle, he approached Joffery who had appeared to be finishing up his daily duties as newly crowned king. As Petyr greeted Joffery, he was stopped and told to report to his mother, Cersei in the morning before the execution, that Lord Baelish was to look after her. As much as he wanted to dissuade the blond brat, he couldn't and simply wore a fine smile and carried on. He made one more stop at the castle and his business was concluded. As he exited the large building, he looked back at it and shook his head quite unconvinced that the day would be an easy one, even when Eddard Stark was to be put on trail.

The next day came bright and early and Petyr woke up and made his way to the castle where the others were surely getting ready for the public trial and judgement of Ned Stark. Petyr tried not to seem to jubilant as he walked through the halls. He knew that this day would change the game. He had already sent guards to keep an eye on Sansa and Arya when they would be out in public. For now he stood by Cersei's door and soon she emerged and he walked with her outside. The sun was low in the sky as the morning was still early, even so, there was a large crowd already forming. Petyr hadn't a clue that Ned Stark wasn't really to be brought out, that Joffery had let him free already in the night, and that the man staggering forward with his head covered, was a run of the mill thief. Petyr quickly took his place beside Cersei as the sentence was carried out by Joffery, asking for Ned's head. Sansa quickly broke down and based on Cersei's expression, she was also fairly thrown off by her son's command. Lord Baelish knew Cersei had been having a difficult time controlling her son ever since he took the throne. And he couldn't help but take joy in her discomfort as the sword came swinging down and most of the crowd cheered while some slandered Joffery's name. The crowd began to get a little restless so the ceremony was concluded and Petyr took hold of Cersei's arm and escorted her back to the castle safely. "It's a pity." He muttered to her. "I'm sure with the death of Lord of Winterfell, your lover-I mean brother's is soon to follow." He said plainly as he released her from his grip as they were now safe indoors. Joffery headed back to his quarters but something still seemed amiss to Petyr.

The next seven days or so progressed very slowly for Petyr. He had spent less time managing his stockpiles and more time fluttering around Cersei and her day to day activities which were quite boring in his opinion. As the current day arrived, he couldn't help but feel as thought something wasn't right. As he made his way through the crowded streets, many whispers of hate and malice entered his ears. It seemed the day he had feared was upon him and he needed to get away from the city. Quickening his pace, he hurried to find Joffery and the others. Petyr had a stash of supplies and money for this very instance. He found Cersei's cambers and knocked quickly and he heard a break in from off in the distance. He was sure the citizens were attacking the castle now. "My Queen, we have to go now, we are under attack." He said and waited impatiently. "Meet me down at the eastern entrance, I have a plan to evacuate us out of the city safely." He said loudly and hurried down into the bowels of the castle. He found his cart and managed to get ahold of a horse and checked his supplies. As he turned to see if Cersei was ready yet, he caught wind that King Joffery was unable to be found which meant Cersei would drag her feet even more. He fastened up the cart and headed back up and called out her name but then went back down the many stairs. He would only wait so long before leaving.

- - -

Arya Stark hated Joffery ever since she saw him enter her home at Winterfell.

But the hatred she had collected ever since she arrived at King's Landing, was more than enough to last her a lifetime. She hated his cocky attitude, how entitled he was and how ignorant he was. While she didn't always get along with her older sister, Sansa, she didn't think Sansa deserved to be engaged to such a brat like Joffery. She never understood her father's decision to marry Sansa. Nor did she enjoy being expected to someday do the same. Arya had no wishes to be a Lady to some terrible man. She knew her mother and father had been in an arranged marriage and loved each other a lot but Arya just didn't have boys on her brain or running a family. All she felt like doing was shooting, hunting, training with Syrio. Part of her had wished she had stayed with her younger brothers in Winterfell. But having her dancing instructor had made the gloomy boring days much brighter. Arya would spend most of her time training or roaming the city. Her sister was usually off somewhere and her father was Hand of the King so he was often busy as well. As she roamed the city, she saw a lot of poverty which wasn't the image that had first come to her mind when she thought of King's Landing. Even so, she did her best to make do and she found herself learning a lot from Syrio. Part of her wondered when she would see the rest of her family again but news reached them that Robb was now raising his banners.

And on top of that, the King had been killed in battle and Joffery was supposed to take his place. Before much celebrating could take place, her father had been accused of conspiring to kill the King and take the throne himself. When she first heard that, she couldn't believe it. While sometimes she found herself questioning her father's judgement, she knew the accusation of disloyalty was false. Not only had her father been taken into custody, she and Sansa were put on a lock down of sorts. Arya managed to free herself and spent most of her time in the streets, keeping a low profile. She spent her first night on the streets trying to avoid being spotted by anyone. While she was young, she wasn't a fool, she knew things weren't looking very well for her father and that his trail would be in the morning. She found a place to curl up and sleep. As a stampede was heading for her, Arya awoke and sprang to her feet. She asked where everyone was going but since no one responded, she just followed after them. As she saw a masked figure being led through the crowds, her heart sank. She looked around and saw Sansa standing beside Cersei and Littlefinger and Joffery. Arya pushed her way through the crowds so she could hear what was being spoken. Yoren grabbed her and pulled her back but she refused to look away as Joffery demanded Ned's head. Arya refused to cry as she tuned out everyone around her and thought back to the last conversation she had with her father. It seemed so distant now.

Before she knew it, it was over. Yoren grabbed her and pulled her along, trying to leave as discreetly as possible. She was then quickly shown a blade to which he used to chop off her long brown hair. Before she could protest, he told her to stay quiet and that he would take her home. She was then pushed along and taken to the outskirts of town where she and a group of rejects were made to hurry along. She looked around but avoided eye contact with everyone as she still had to take time to swallow the truth: her father had been killed. For the most part, she didn't listen to any of the crap the men yelled at her. No one seemed to know she was a girl, a Lady of House Stark no less. As they traveled along, she kept thinking about her mother and brothers and how she would hug her mother and promise to obey her more and to not be such a brat. Arya found herself silently repenting for all of her little sins, as she wondered if her father's death was punishment for something she had done. For the most part, she was quiet, unaware of her surroundings. All she needed was to touch her blade, Needle, and she would be brought back to the present. The ground traveled slow and tried to stay clear of the main Kingsroad. Whenever the group would stop to clean or rest, Arya would maintain her distance from everyone else but she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched and it wasn't by Yoren.

The only thing the girl could do was to trust Yoren to help her get home. Sadly as fate would have it, getting home would take much longer than usual. Their band of recruits heading for the Wall got stopped and a fight quickly broke out. "Gendry, run!" She said as she took out her sword. In the past few days, she had revealed herself as Arya Stark, as he seemed to be the only one to figure out her real gender. At first, she had been pretty reserved about it but he was able to bring her out of her depression and joke around a little. And now they were caught in a matter of life and death. She hurried over to a cae where three men were asking for help. "Why should I?" She asked, one of them explained that he would owe her their saved lives. She looked toward Gendry and quickly broke open the cage as a fire broke out around them. Arya took off and grabbed Gendry's hand and hurried into the thick woods. "We need to get to Winterfell, we'll be safe there." She explained. She realized she was clutching his hand and released it. "S-sorry." She said and hurried along, careful where she stepped as the ground was uneven and littered with trees and rocks. As they kept going, she kept her ears perked for any noises that might be a threat to them. "You're okay aren't you? You're not hurt?" She asked as she slowed their pace as they had created enough distance from the enemy. The smoke in the air was barely detectable as her heart rate went back to normal.

[Jester]

Everything hurt. Ned’s eyes screwed up with every hoof beat as his shattered leg bounced limply off the side of his horse. His mouth was dry and his face was wind-burned as he leaned heavily on the neck of his mount. For days he had been riding now, avoiding roads and towns. Occasionally he would see a column of North men marching south to join up with his son’s host, and wisely, the late Lord of Winterfell avoided them. There was nothing he could do for Robb now. Joffery, that wretched child, in his foolishness, had given him a way out, and he intended on taking it. “I was going to have you killed, but your traitor son has my uncle, and I don’t trust that he’ll be willing to trade the Kingslayer for two little girls and a corpse.”

“I’m letting you go, and another shall die in your place,” the boy had said, his petulant eyes so reminiscent of the ones that belonged to the man he thought his uncle. “Free him,” the king had commanded. And Ned had promised on his honor to do just that.

The meeting with Joffery had seemed odd. The boy coming to him on his own, without leave of his mother, without the control of guiding hand. Where would he have gotten the idea that his plan was a good one? And then it made perfect sense. It hadn’t been his plan. When Ned had exited his cell, it had been hours after the boy had already left, and in his place was the pale round face of an all too familiar spider. “So you talked with boy.” It wasn’t a question. The eunuch, Varys had managed to lead him out of the red keep, supporting Ned’s weight with his own. He looked different and was dressed in mail and leather as opposed to his traditional silk robes. The man smelled of sweat instead of perfume, and the inklings of a beard could be seen adorning his normally smooth chin.

They made it to a ship that was captained by a man of the free cities, and in Ned’s poor condition, he looked no different from an ailing old man. Varys had already paid his fare, and bid the northern lord goodbye before setting off. As the voyage went on, he could feel the strength that the dungeons had sapped from him slowly returning, but the wound of his leg was laborious in its recovery, and even the slightest of efforts undid any progress it might have made while he was resting.

As the sea shifted the boat with every raucous movement of the waves around them. Ned found himself dreaming, and losing himself in thoughts of home. Robb and Jon, practicing in the yard with one another with Theon at the side interjecting with the occasional jibe. Bran and his climbing, scaring Cat with every jaunt he made across the stone gargoyles lining the keep’s perimeter. Even the girls with their squabbling was a small pleasure he had taken for granted. And little Rickon, a boy near as wild has the last Brandon Stark had been. He missed them, and he missed the long table by the hearth, and the companionship of men who had been in his family’s service for years. Jory, Alyn, Vayon Poole, they were all dead, but good men like Ser Roderick and Maestar Luwain, not everything was lost. Most of all though, he missed Cat, the one binding force in his life and the grounding presence that made madness like this seem bearable. Ned had been without her for far too long, and everything in him ached for the comfort of her arms.

When the boat had reached port in White Harbor, Ned had politely thanked the Tyroshi sailors as they gifted him with a horse, likely on Varys’ instructions, and set sail again quickly after letting him off. The small port town was under the control of one of his bannermen, Wyman Manderly, but as far as the rest of the kingdom knew, he had died a few days ago. It would take more convincing than he would have liked to prove that it was indeed him, so he rode northeast and more importantly, he rode for home.

And as the outskirts of a small town became clearer through icy mists of the north, Ned felt relief shudder through his tired body. He was that much closer, but he needed a rest. As his horse muddled through the soggy dirt roads of the village, he steered the animal to the wooden frame of what appeared to be an inn. Dismounting shakily, Ned limped to a small post and tethered his mount’s reigns around the pole before walking inside.

When he entered, he immediately noticed the group of men near the bar crowding near a woman. Attempting to diffuse the situation, he limped towards the bar, pushing gently past them, figuring they wouldn’t know him for who he was with his hair and beard so long and unkempt and dress that was far plainer than one might expect a high-lord to wear. Oh, and then there was the small fact of his recent death. “I’m looking for a room,” he said to the old barmaid. “And a meal, if you have anything left to serve,” he quickly threw in. Resting at a stool on the bar, Ned sighed and let his body slump slightly. Then he looked to the woman that looked to be badgered by men and his eyes went wide. “C-“ he started, unwilling to believe his own eyes.
-----


White cloaks and gold armor burst through the door of her bed chambers and quickly made their way to her bed in earnest and without a word. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Mandon Moore were both members of the King’s guard, but entirely her men. Cersei stretched and yawned, everything in disarray as she brushed the layers of her golden hair out from her face and looked up to the two men as they watched her rise out of her exhausted stupor. “What is the meaning of this?” She asked. “Do you have any clue what hour-“ Ser Mandon Moore said nothing and simply took her by the arm, dragging her from her chamber. “I’m sorry, your Grace, but we can’t afford to wait any longer,” he said. “Lord Baelish said he would send word for you. There’s been a major riot,” the knight said as she meekly followed. What was happening? What of her children? Cersei tried to remember if Littlefinger had made mention. It must have been less than an hour ago as she had just settled in to sleep. “I need to collect some things,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears as Ser Mandon pulled her along while Ser Meryn took point. They were then soon joined by a half-dozen Lannister guardsman with spears and crimson cloaks with a lion crest proudly displayed on the front of their hauberks.

“There’s little time for it, your Grace,” Meryn said in a husky, labored voice as they strode briskly through the long halls of the Red Keep. She could hear noises and clanging persist throughout the structure. Mangled screams echoed hauntingly in the distance. Shouts pierced the night air as they passed through a pair of double doors that lead to the outside. There was black smoke billowing from a tower at the far end of the castle. Fire and death hung in the air like a thick musk that clung to fabric of her red satin robes and made her eyes water. In the courtyard, the lovely garden’s white roses and daffodils were reduced ash as flames licked the sides of the greens bushes and tended shrubbery. Shapes could be seen moving all around them, and occasionally, one would chance to close to the formation of guards surrounding her and be met with sharp thrust through the chest. After that, the pace quickened significantly. Where were her children? Tommen, Myrcella, and Joffery. How had the rabble outside of the walls managed to break through?

More people descended upon the convoy the exited the castle and made for the eastern gates. They were all killed and a quick but brutal fashion by one of the men around her. Finally, the made it to the eastern gate and Littlefinger was there, tended a cart with his own men and what looked like supplies positioned on the back. What was this? Some jape of his? She thought back to his insinuation about the relationship between her and Jaime, and a sickened look crossed her face. Was this man really expecting her to go with him? And then a crash from behind them answered that question. Ser Meryn boosted her up into the cart, and she rather quickly complied. It was a cool night, with summer on the decline, and she pulled her robes closer around her as she watched one the red cloaked Lannister men put the shaft of his spear through another shuffling commoner. “Where are my children?” she hurriedly asked. “Where are you going?” She assumed he must have some plan, or why else would he have had her brought here like she was.
------


Gendry didn’t really know what it was to care for someone. He hadn’t know his mother well, and while he respected the old smith that had taken him on, there wasn’t much love to be had there either. But when he looked at Lommy, Hotpie, and Arry…Arya, there was a part of him that felt compelled to do everything he could for the three. He was bigger than them, stronger than them, and he was the only one looking out for them. Yoren had done what he could, but the old crow was dead and the rest of the prospective brothers weren’t far behind. Even Lommy and Hotpie were nowhere to be found. Now there was only this wild, brash little girl that he was becoming attached to in the much the same way she was becoming attached to him. They were all the other had at this point, and he wasn’t about to let her get harmed or injured in the mess that this little adventure had turned into. He looked at her as they crossed through the rugged terrain south of the Riverlands, and then looked back toward where they had come from. If there were riders poaching for any stragglers, then they weren’t near far enough to avoid them. As they came to a stop, her fingers loosed their grip on his much larger ones. He managed a weak smile, but that was it. “Arya, I’m not much for maps, but we’re a thousand leagues from Winterfell. How do you suppose we’ll make it that far?” he snapped.

Everything was so simple for her. She was still young…well younger than him at any rate. He wanted to understand her hopes and her fears, and were Winterfell just over the next hill, then he might be able to, but it wasn’t. They were unarmed, except for that little sword of hers, and had no food or supplies to speak of. How were they going to travel hundreds of miles on foot with little more than the clothes on their back? Without Yoren, their journey was little more than a folly, but they had to keep going. Any death that might find them out here was better than any suffered at the hands of a Lannister or a member of the City watch. He gazed out toward the sun and saw it begin to sink. They had to start looking for somewhere to sleep, and start trying to figure out how on earth they were ever going to survive. He had heard stories about this area too, one’s that he would sooner forget. An enormous pack of wolves led by a huge bitch of she-wolf that had cut out a massive swathe of territory along this stretch of the Trident. They would do better not to be entirely exposed when night set in, else they’d be woken up being pulled apart by sharp teeth and sharper claws.

Gendry ran a hand through his coal black hair and rolled his neck as he looked down at the girl, expectantly. What was he doing snapping at her the way he just did? He took in the sight of the little highborn lady and in a way, he could see it. She carried herself far better than any of the others, spoke better too. Sure, she was a bit unconventional, but he supposed that was part of her charm. His experiences with nobility hadn’t been overly positive ones. Even if they made it to Winterfell, was there any guarantee that her plan to keep him safe (that made him chuckle) would really work out. What if they got there and her brother or mother didn’t want him. What if they just turned right around and sent him back to the Queen to be killed or worse? How had it all come to this? This bloody, miserable mess where people died and he had been stripped of his life a smith’s apprentice

[Genkai]

There wasn't a fresh hint of fear in her eyes, not a trace. Catelyn was instead weary and distracted which were more disarming than any childish fear one may wrongfully possess in the midst of a challenge. The small cluster of men was broken up when someone hobbled between them and addressed the old barmaid. She didn't lean in close enough to hear as her attention had been fixated on the men giving her a hard time. She had expected such actions more south but not close to home and it pained her to have to attack men on familiar soil but she had no choice in the matter. As she returned a more thoughtful grip on her blade, she heard a loud whisper and glanced back toward the stranger. "Ned?" She pushed one of the men aside as she stepped close to examine the man's face more closely. Cat's heart stopped for several long moments as she scanned his face and allowed his breathing to confirm what her mind refused to believe. He was alive, her husband, the father of her children was alive and so close, close enough to touch. Before she could dare bring herself to continue her investigation, one of the men stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. With a vibrant push backwards, Cat managed to repel the man before the room fell silent as everyone took in the fantastical scene playing out before them. Whispers of their names and their titles rushed around from various lips to other various lips. The men backed up quickly, pointing out how impossible it was for Eddard Stark to be among the living after being beheaded.

Not wanting further interruptions between her reunion with her husband, she raised her blade to the troublemakers. "Leave us at once." She commanded and they quickly left the inn. Cat turned back toward Ned but felt eyes still upon their forms. Thankfully the woman behind the counter slid an old key to them and Cat took it. "Thank you kindly." She looked back toward Ned and put an arm around him and guided him along up toward the second level where the rooms were located which was finely etched on the key in hand. Once she unlocked the door and let Ned in first, she turned and locked it behind her, though her actions were almost ghostly without real concept. The whole idea of finding such strength when she was lacking in a dire situation...Catelyn could imagine how things may have turned out if Ned hadn't appeared to her. Surely she would be able to combat the men after her but she had a faint inkling that it would have been more taxing and ended up with less than extraordinary results. Though she had hooked arms with him to help his tired body along, the solidness of him, of having him with her once more, had yet to sink in entirely. Making her way over to the bed in which Ned had settled in, she took a seat next to him and reached over, bringing his face toward hers so she could look directly at him and confront the ghost in front of her.

"Ned..." She breathed out and traced her fingertips along his rough skin. "You're here." As a Lady, she wished she had more profound words to give to her husband but the only thing she could do was reaffirm his existence and hope that it would be enough for them to make it back home, to rebuild their home and reclaim their family as a whole. And being a strong woman from Riverrun it was uncharacteristic of her to show pain through tears but the recent events had proved that the abnormal would bring equally abnormal results. Cat leaned in and slipped her arms around his large shoulders, her forehead pressing against his gently. Her hold tightened on him as there seemed no sign of this apparition fading into the air around her, leaving her with only the comfort of bittersweet memories. She closed her eyes, refusing to let any tears that threatened to fall, fall. Her lips were about to brush against his lips before she pulled back and applied slight pressure to her hold to show some of her pent of fury. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." She said firmly, her look of joy and disbelief now replaced with a soft tone of anger. While miles apart, she had felt the sorrow of her children and refused to endure it again but she knew one final day, she would have to deal with Ned's real death. For now, she would embrace the living man beside her. "You need to lie down and rest now." She sighed and removed her hold of him, retreating as she reminded herself of what hell he must of gone through to even get this far.

- - -

There had been so much that Lord Baelish had wished to get to but considering that the moment didn't care to allow him any sort of kindness, he would have to make due with what was happening. He wanted to get King Joffery and Sansa Stark in his grasp before departing but having at least Cersei would be fine. For now. Thankfully Ser Meryn had done as he was asked and had come down with the blond haired harpy. Petyr's patience was waning as the noises on the outside began to increase, only adding more worry to the list of emotions he had to keep a lid on. "There's no time to deal with them right now." He just told her as he tossed her a thick quilt. "Please, you'll have to conceal yourself until we're out of King's Landing." He instructed without frill as he looked ahead and waited for the best moment to finally make his move to venture out into the fray. "There is no time to explain, just be silent and I'll try to get us out of danger as quickly as possible but until then you'll have to trust me and stay quiet and concealed." He told her, knowing it may pain the woman to trust him, as she didn't trust even her own late husband. None of the little details mattered as he snapped the reins and the cart pressed outward into the sea of people who were still trying to break into the royal territory. He had plenty of men he could count on and he knew he wouldn't attract a lot of fuss in public. Of course if the King had been with him, they would have been attacked within a heartbeat.

The horse was slow with progress as Petyr moved through the city in distress. Objects and rotten food were thrown in every direction and he had to swiftly move to the left in order to prevent himself from being struck by a glob of dung thrown by an angry boy about Joffery's age. Petyr kept a simple expression on his face as he neared the main exit of the once majestic port city of Westeros. After a good thirty minutes had elapsed, he was out of the city and waited another twenty before he reached behind to pull the cover off of the woman who he knew mocked him. Even so, he had just saved her life, and he saw it as in act that would pay for itself in due time. Petyr returned his attention to the road ahead of them. They weren't taking the main road, and were instead on a rocky beaten path heading northwest of King's Landing. The air was think and the day was growing old. He made sure their pace was slow for the time being as he knew there would be a few days time before they would reach any sort of noteworthy town or city. He also made a mental note to do something about Cersei's appearance. He was sure if she ran around telling everyone who she was, many of them would balk at her status, considering how many of their supporters were turning against the throne due to it's messy lineage.

"I don't think our allies will be able to help us since the city has now fallen." He finally spoke as they began to make their way up a hill which was littered with various colors of leaves, though the majority were bright red. "Not to mention the new rumor about your relationship with your brother." He said, not needing to keep his voice low as the two were alone with no one to interfere. In his nest of supplies, he had some swords, some food that was able to withstand long bouts of travel. There were a few locations he had in mind to take himself and Cersei but his mind was already beginning to twist in new directions. "If you'd like to stop a rest for a moment, let me know." He then said, quickly changing gears as if suddenly having a change of heart in his motives in regards to establishing the tone of their little excursion. If there was someone who he wished he would be stuck with in the wilderness, he would have picked someone with a different color of hair. The horse reared its head slightly and Petyr resumed placing his concentration on managing to steer their cart and keeping everything fairly upright and stable. "Since we will be together for some time, I believe it's best if we do our best to drum up new identities for ourselves until we find true allies of the King." He commented, voicing his idea about keeping a low profile around the rough areas for a while.

- - -

"I can find my way home, easily." Arya shot at Gendry without missing a beat, refusing to let him sense her uncertainty. What else could they do? They were running from men, danger was all around them. She had no idea where her sister was or even Robb or her mother. The only north star she knew how to follow was North, she would find Winterfell as long as she traveled north and soon she would feel an air of familiarity. It was in her blood and soul. Arya had unrelenting faith and wished that Gendry would follow suit rather than waste time with worries. She knew Gendry was a city boy who knew nothing of how to live off the land and survive harsh conditions but she was tough. Winterfell had made her tough, her siblings had made her tough and so had her parents. While she had experience, she knew there were some gaping holes due to her parents not wishing her to lose too much of her femininity. She was very determined to make it out alive, to see her family again and to keep Gendry safe. There was no reason why someone like him needed to be pulled into her own drama but for now, there was nothing they could do but stick together. And he had to stick with her if he wanted the best chance of survival. Looking around, she tried to spot any sort area which may seem suitable for them to make for a temporary home of sorts. There was no way she could let her and Gendry down.

The handsome dark haired sword smith was counting on her, even if he seemed quite annoyed, almost blaming her for their predicament. At first, Arya was certain the men had been hunting her down because of her connection to the claimed traitor, Eddard Stark. But as it turned out, they were looking for someone entirely different. "I know all of this is happening really fast but you have to trust me." Arya told him, her voice dropping one octave to show she was trying to settle down. The last thing the duo needed was to spark an argument in the middle of the woods and attract trouble their way when they had barely gotten out of it. "Let's just keep moving." Arya huffed, unmotivated any the current area which surrounded them. The issue with going blindly into the woods was that they had no clue if they were walking toward salvation and freedom or if they were putting themselves into a trap which they may have just escaped narrowly. Five minutes passed and the faint hum of a river altered Arya toward where they could best settle in for the long night. On one hand the small stream would attract others, friend or foe. But it would be the best source of guidance until she got her bearings back. The Stark girl walked over to the stream and bent down to test the temperature, it was warm which led her to believe they were pretty far from the cold winds of the North. This didn't do anything but put her on edge. She hid her moment of annoyance and turned to Gendry. "I think this is a good place to stop and rest."

She took a seat, a few feet away from the shallow stream and rubbed her head. She removed Needle from her side and set it next to her so she could get a little more comfortable. Now she had to rely on the wits of the woods. While Sansa had concerned herself with knitting and baking, Arya had roamed the woods with her brothers to learn more about real issues. Though at the moment, she wouldn't have minded knowing how to make some bread. She recalled hearing Hotpie mention he could bake when they were traveling together. But that sorry state of affairs seemed too distant, even if it was their reality only a few hours ago. She could sense Gendry's uncertainty but she had no idea how to properly soothe his worries without sounding harsh so she kept her mouth shut and kept watching the water flow in front of her. If he had spoken up about his nerves about fitting in, she would have assured him, would have mentioned Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow and how accepting Winterfell was of them. They were all one big family who sometimes fought but always looked out for one another. And in her mind, in the moment, Gendry was now her family. She would make sure he was safe. It wasn't just the honorable thing to do, but Arya felt like doing it. It was difficult to explain. "If you're hungry, I can see what's living around here but without a fire, it's not really safe to eat raw meat without risking getting sick." She smiled softly, thinking back to a dare in which Brandon ended up eating some raw chicken and ended up sick for days. She missed him, everyone and everything.