34 Chapter 23: S1-E22: The Age of Strife 1/2

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Age of Strife…

Forward: I'd like to again thank Rainsfere for his editing and peer-review of this chapter along with Althad Eissa AlMbarizum.

…

Gendry stared back at the Witcher sternly, the young blacksmith having not been pleased being forced to leave his home at Mott's workshop. It had been a day since the delivery of supplies to the Stark loyalists, though the young man's mood hadn't improved since. When the rest of the men learned he was one of King Robert's bastard children, they subtlety treated him with more respect, perhaps because the boy seemed like a splitting image of the late ruler in his youth.

"You've been quiet ever since we've taken you in, Gendry." Geralt muttered, leaning back against the nearby wall while the boy sat on a nearby cot. "I know your not happy with this…"

"Considering I never had a say in it…"

"Yet would you have agreed to leave if I asked you?"

Gendry didn't answer, only fiddling with the bull shaped helm, the same one Geralt had seen him working on in the past. The boy stared at it before glancing up back to the Witcher. "So what about the others?"

"Others?"

"My other brothers and sisters. The other bastards of my father?"

Geralt didn't answer, gaze drifting off to the small dirty window that just showed the open harbor outside. "Nothing we can do for them. Too many to track down…too many with families and livelihoods here."

"So, your abandoning them." The boy's tone was accusing, spiteful.

"What would you have me do? Trounce into very damn brothel and poor household that Robert decided to lay in?" The Witcher answered back sternly. "I'd like nothing more then to get them to safety, but the risks are too great.

"Then why bother with me?"

"Because Robert went to great lengths to keep you safe and cared for." Geralt shifted from the wall, pacing closer to the boy. "When I questioned him about you, he showed such regret. Deep down he wanted to properly raise you but couldn't because of the risks it brings." Stopping before Gendry, he'd hold one hand out for the helm, the Gendry hesitating before handing it over for the Witcher to examine.

"I just wanted to stay at the workshop…finish my apprenticeship and start my own blacksmith."

"Life is never simple Gendry. I don't expect you to rise up as the next heir to the Kingdoms…that isn't the life you want. Hopefully you can continue your craft once we're safe with your Uncle or in the North." He'd set the helm beside the boy before moving for the door. "Still, more Kings and rulers could do with your good heart…"

Leaving the room, the young smith glanced back at the helm before shifting up from his bed. Brushing over his short cut hair, he gave a shaky sigh as he felt so many conflicting emotions go through him. Part of him wanted nothing more then to run away from all of this, not be dragged around like some prisoner. He'd glance over at his pack, moving over to it as he'd check over his belongings, debating if he should just risk it and run now.

"No…not yet…" He muttered to himself, calming down as he'd return to his cot as he tried to think of a clearer plan, unknowing that during his shuffle through his pack he had overlooked a small leather-bound booklet that had the city emblem of Qohor marked across its front.

…

Two more tense days passed for Geralt and his companions, the group working tirelessly in preparation for Eddard's trial midday tomorrow. While it was night time, the city was echoing with the sound of horns and bells, open celebration of the crowning of King Joffrey. At the least, the guards would no doubt be hung over and tired for tomorrows events.

The Witcher leaned over the meeting table, a larger version of Varys' map laid out across it. He'd glance up at Beric, Davos, Thoros, Syrio and the sixteen other men armed for this mission. They all muttered to each other, hints of uncertainty despite the days of planning. He knew they were all on edge for this, worried of another betrayal like before at the Red Keep.

"Everything feels…to well thought out…too certain." Thoros grumbled as he'd glance over the laid-out routes. "I know you believe Varys, but I sure as hell don't."

"Thoros has a point. This could all be one big trap to crush us all." Beric muttered in hesitant agreement.

The other arms men muttered mixed thoughts, seeming divided as well.

"Are you worrying maids or men?" Syrio accused sharply, making Thoros glance at the short duelist. "If fear and doubt grips you so much, I question how any of you can survive one battle."

"Want to test me Braavosi!?" Thoros growled, giving a bloodthirsty grin as he'd stare down at the shorter man.

"Enough!"

The sharp order from Geralt made everyone silent, since they never heard the gruff man speak out so loudly. Those cat eyes gazed across the group, unblinking as he examined each person. "You are all right to doubt this mission. I feel just as doubtful that things will play out as expected." He calmly stated. "Lord Eddard knew the risks he was taking when he confronted Cersei. No doubt every death that happened that day haunts him right now." He'd a low sigh as he'd collect his thoughts. "If anything, I'd rather not put any of your lives on the line."

Davos stepped up to the table, staring back at the Witcher. "I know deep down you'd prefer to do this alone. You're not one to rely on others…not like this." He stated. "The odds are damn against us, yet I know very well what will happen if we leave that poor girl in the Lannister's hands."

The men gave nods and short remarks of agreements, determination returning to them.

"Then let's go over the plan one last time." Beric added as he'd point over the map. "Right now, Lord Eddard is being held in the cells of the Great Sept for the night, while Sansa remains under watch in the Red Keep. Midday, she along with most of the Lannister family will travel to the Sept on separates routes through the side streets of the city."

Geralt nodded before he'd speak up. "Once the trial ends, Eddard should be escorted to the western most gate, the Gate of the Gods, to be sent off to the Wall…at least from Varys' estimates. The both the Lannisters and Sansa will return to the Red Keep once again through separate routes." He'd tap his finger over one intersection which Sansa's route arrow passed by. "Here we make our move. We'll surround Sansa's guards quickly and discretely. Then we'll take one of the planned escape routes back to Blackwater Harbor and leave on Davos ship. By the time the Lannisters realize what is going on, we will be long gone."

"So, what if something goes wrong, such as reinforcements or a counter ambush." Syrio curiously asked.

"I crafted these with what supplies Davos had." Geralt gestured to a set of leather wrapped metal tubes and spheres with fuses across the table. "The tubes are flares, a signaling device that armies back home used. Simple alchemy that creates bright flaming projectile that quickly burns out." He'd then pick up one of the bombs. "Beric and Thoros know about my bombs, handy tools for groups of enemies. These simply give out thick smoke to distract and provide cover, good for quick escapes or an ambush."

"Some interesting tools for sure." Davos commented as he examined one. "Surprised the Maesters haven't crafted such things."

"I'm just as surprised. They should have the knowledge and tools to make such things…" Indeed, innovation was quite stagnant considering the long history the world had, though he didn't let such thoughts distract him now. "Overall these devices can be dangerous if misused, so use them as instructed and only if needed."

However, before anything else could be said, one of Davos crewmen would hurry into the room and approach the Witcher. "Uhh…Ser Geralt, there is a small issue outside."

"What kind of issue?"

"Some…well…sellsword. A quite intimidating fellow who wants to talk with you."

Worried looks hinted Geralt's companions, Thoros and Syrio seeming to have an idea who their intruder was.

"I'll deal with this." The Witcher muttered as he'd shift away from the table and head out the door, already drawing out of steel blade. With this individual, he was taking no chances.

…

"Bloody Hells Geralt! Put that damn thing away!" Bronn cursed out as he backed away at the sight of the Witcher with his sword in hand. Despite the man's surprise, he had his usual smug smirk on his face. The sellsword had his hands up away from the sword and dagger at his hips, though the Witcher still was on guard for any sudden moves.

"How did you find us?" He sharply questioned. "If you've been followed or told anyone I swear…"

"Calm down already! You think I'm a damn amateur or that selfish?"

The Witcher's silence was a simple enough answer back, making Brann roll his eyes slightly.

"Alright maybe I am selfish. However I know Cersei's bounty of you and the others is just a ploy. Considering her history of backstabbing, I'm pretty sure I'd be sharing a noose alongside everyone else."

"Still haven't answered my question."

Bronn shrugged, guessing it was time to explain himself. "A bit of guess work and deduction. Everyone was quite baffled at how you slipped out of the castle unnoticed. However, Tyrion knew your good friends with Davos, someone who everyone else has over looked. Make sense how you'd evade the Watch with his aid and resources."

"Classic Tyrion. Guess he'd be one of the few to come to such reasoning." Geralt muttered. "Still doesn't explain why you tracked me down."

The sellsword shifted a large pack off his shoulder before setting it down between them, then moved away. It was obvious he wanted to give the Witcher space, since he knew just how fast Geralt's reflexes were. Moving to the pack, Geralt opened it up to see some familiar items, packed herbs, potions, bombs and pouches of gold."

"My belongings…" At this point he'd remember leaving them behind, a costly oversight considering his Witcher tools would be very dangerous if fallen into the wrong hands. It was a bit embarrassing that he had forgotten all of this during the hectic escape from the Red Keep. "Why?"

"Because Tyrion knew better. First thing his sister did was have the guards raid your room and smash that tough chest of yours. Smart move considering it took them a long while to crack open." Bronn casually explained. "A lot of it sent off to the Grand Maester to be studied. Had to sneak in to steal most of it back…though I couldn't snag everything."

"Just hope nothing too dangerous was left behind." Geralt picked up the pack and shrugged it over one shoulder. "Thank you for doing this. Surprised you put yourself at risk to do this."

"Oh, I didn't." Bronn smirked slyly. "I was given quite the bonus, a small cut from yours and Tyrion's funds."

"Huh…guess human greed wins out still."

"We all have our vices." The sellsword shrugged, giving an amused grin seeing the annoyed look on the Witcher's face.

"So, is there anything else? I expected Tyrion to have a message pleading for me to leave while I can."

"Guess he realized such words would be wasted considering your conviction and stubbornness. If anything, he's really going to miss chatting over drinks." However, the mercenary gave a small sigh. "Yet I have some personal advice Geralt, whatever your plan to do it's not worth it. Cut your losses and go North while you can."

For a long while the Witcher didn't answer back, only giving that unblinking stare back at Bronn. "That is the thing about advice. No one needs to follow it." There be a tense pause before he continued. "Tell Tyrion we'll meet again one day...share a long few tales over drinks."

"Heh, you sound confident on that claim."

"Because I am."

The sellsword smirked and shook his head, though seemed amused. "Then I'll owe you ten gold dragons if that day comes." Tugging up his cloak hood, he'd give a short saluting wave as he'd back out of the alley. "Try to stay alive Geralt. Rather not see your head on a pike back at the Red Keep."

Once the sellsword was out of sight, Geralt relax as he'd sheath his sword. He understood Bronn's mentality, focusing on himself before all others. Perhaps there was a reason for his self-centered thinking, some past event that made him that way. However, that was a matter for another time.

Walking around to the back of the warehouse, he'd head back inside to rejoin the rest of the group. He'd make sure to tell some of Davos men to double the watch for any trouble, not wanting to take any chances Bronn had been followed or may have lied about giving up their location. He may consider Bronn a friend to a degree but couldn't let such feelings blind him to possible risks. He'd return to the meeting room to tell everyone what happened and discus the minor details of their rescue plan. There were dozens of places everyone had to be and back up plans for any possible situation. He was going to let anything catch them off guard this time, no matter the doubts or risks. One thing was certain, the events of tomorrow would determine the future of all of Westeros.

…

Geralt listened to the ringing bells and chattering that echoed throughout the capital as today was Eddard's trial. He was certain much of the city be out in the streets, wanting to see what was going to happen to Lord Stark. There was no doubt a divide among the people, those who felt Eddard was being framed and those blindly loyal to the royal family.

"Glad I requests those extra tools." He muttered to himself as he'd gaze over his new equipment he had requested from Mott. There was a pouch of throwing knives, fine blades which he'd start to slot in the inner pockets of his leather jacket, chest piece and side of his boots. Been a while since he used such weapons after getting his crossbow, though they'd be effective for short range fights or to weaken his opponents

The other item he requested was a thin weighted chain, a more exotic weapon he used in the past such as against the Striga many years back. While not the most lethal of weapons, he felt it be useful in surprising enemies or getting them tangled up if used correctly. He just hoped he wasn't too out of practice in using it. Carefully bundling the chain up, he'd fit it into a larger pouch at the back of his left hip, easy to draw out for quick use.

Next were a collection of crossbow bolts, specialized one modified through differing diagrams. Blunted bolts had been made counter tougher armor or to knock out enemies, since Geralt preferred not killed the guards who were simply just following orders. He did have more exotic bolts, a few split and explosive bolts for emergencies. Lasted he packed few of his grapeshot bombs, something which he hoped he wouldn't have to use if the mission play out right.

Just as he was finishing up, there was a knock at the door. "Enter."

Davos opened the door, the captain having that serious look in his eyes as he watched Geralt pull his jacket on and strap his swords onto his back. "It's time. Everyone is waiting for your order." The gruff man simply said.

Geralt nodded as he'd grab his dark hooded cloak off the nearby wall hook, though he didn't put it on yet. Following the sea captain to the main meeting room, he'd find everyone else standing by, dressed most were wearing cloaks and plains clothes with leather armor for minor protection. They all looked attentively to the Witcher as he'd glance over each member of the rescue team.

"Usually…this would be the moment someone gives a big heroic speech." He started, making a few chuckles fill the air, easing the tension in the air. "So, I'm going to get to the point. We all know the plan…we all understand the risks. So, let's get out there and make history, show the Lannister we're not finished yet."

The men gave a short hurrah at the final words before everyone began to file out of the warehouse side door. Syrio, Thoros and Beric would make sure to lead everyone safely to the ambush point before meeting up at the Grand Sept to watch the trial.

"I know my place is here at the docks, but I wish I could come." Davos muttered, catching Geralt's attention. "The boat will be ready for your hopeful return. Besides that, I wish the best of luck to you."

"Thank you, Davos." The two firmly shook hands before Geralt moved aside to the nearby door, though stopped when he noticed Arya suddenly rush out from the other room. She was dressed in spare boy's clothes, the best the group could get for the young girl although she didn't complain. She had Needle at her hip, tied on with some strong twine.

"I want to come as well!" She suddenly pleaded, a determined look on her face.

"No." Geralt simply answered back, knowing well why she was doing this now. "I get why you're doing this. You want to see your father before it's too late."

Arya didn't answer, only glancing down before nodding slightly. "Just…you could have one of the men watch me. They could take me back once the trial is over."

The Witcher shook his head though. "We don't have anyone else to spare to watch you. Besides we have too many recognizable faces as it is." He'd put a hand on her shoulder, trying to have her look at him. "I know you worry and miss him, yet he wouldn't want you to put yourself at risk like that."

The girl balled her hands into fists, seeming to agreeing and hating the Witcher's reasoning at the same time. She didn't argue though, only pulling away from his reach and hurrying back into the other room before Geralt could say anything more.

"She'll understand." Davos muttered. "I'll make sure to keep a close eye on her, make sure she doesn't run off on her own."

With that assured, the Witcher moved back towards the side door out. "Then I'll see you in a few hours. Stay safe Davos."

"You too Geralt."

Watching the Witcher leave though, the old smuggler had a strange feeling come to him. It was that gut instinct that something bad was going to happen, something beyond anyone's power to prevent.

…

It was slow work getting all the way to the Grand Sept discretely with the streets filled with people, even in the back alleys that snaked throughout the capital. However, Geralt made sure to keep his cloak hood low and blend with the crowds during the long walk up to the grand cathedral. While he had visited it only a few times during his trips through the city, it easily dwarfed even the grandest buildings of faith from his world.

The plaza held statues of famous saints and Kings from Westeros history spread about, looming over the sea of people gathered here. From the nearby buildings, the nobility and higher born watched the crowd, seeming amused seeing the masses so excited. Geralt glanced among the commoners, his sharp gaze able to pick out Thoros and Beric who were spread out towards the side alleys linking into the plaza. He couldn't see Syrio, guessing the man's short stature made it harder to notice him. His attention though did quickly focus on the front of the cathedral itself.

At the front of the Sept was a rough stoned stage with differing levels to it, a place where public decrees and events were hosted. Already the royal court and family was gathered, standing on various levels of the stone platform. On the right side was Sandor, Varys, Pycelle, two members of the King's Guard along with a well-dressed man with the symbol of the Seven set on his robes, no doubt the current High Septon.

The left side of the mid-level was the Watch Commander Janos Slynt with three City Watch standing beside him. Nearby was Jaime, the young knight now wearing the fine plate of Lord Commander for his order. Despite the grand rank he had earned, the man seemed quite tense as he'd glance over the crowd and look to the upper stage at the rest of his family.

On that higher level of the stage was Cersei, Joffrey, Tywin and Sansa. Joffrey was dressed similarly as last time, though now with his 'father's' crown rested on his blond head. The boy had a pleased look on his face gazing over his subjects, no doubt enjoying the adoration shown to him.

Cersei was dressed lavishly as always for public gatherings, wearing red and golden dress with a wide cloak covering her. Her face was calm though a hint of pride showing, no doubt with her believing she had achieved a full victory over the week.

Tywin as usual wore fine plain noble clothes, being practical as always. While the man often had passive looks on his face, Geralt could tell Lord Lannister wasn't amused by what he was witnessing. It made the Witcher wonder what was going on between the rest of the family, considering Cersei's aggressive grabs for power. He just hoped the stern lord could keep some order to this farce of a trial.

Lastly for Sansa, the girl was obviously distraught despite how lovely she looked with her well-kept hair and fine dress. It looked like she had cried recently from what he could tell, though she did well to stay composed before the gathered crowd. Geralt knew she was mainly there to be shown off and to remind Eddard the price of not confessing to his 'crimes'.

"Not much longer…" He muttered, as the bells tolled for the coming hour, the beginning of the trial.

From a grand entrance of the Grand Sept, a group of City Watch stepped forward, two of them dragging Lord Stark forward towards the baying crowd. Eddard looked quite roughed up, hair disheveled, parts of his face bruised from beatings and eyes half closed from the bright light of the day. He was in the same clothes as the day he was arrested, the leather ripped and dirtied from being stuck in a cell for a week. He'd glance about the plaza and the massive crowd, people cursing or pleading to him as the guards yanked him forward.

The City Watch cleared a path through the commoners, giving enough space for a few to grab or spit at him, though Eddard did well not to react to the abuse. Geralt kept his hood low as they'd pass by, not wanting to be noticed by his friend. It would be easy for Ned to mistake his appearance here to be a rescue plan for him, which may complicate matters.

Soon Ned was dragged up to the stone stage, the man looking upward at his daughter who stared back, a pleading look hinting her face as he'd pass by. Reaching the center of the platform, the guards stopped and let go of Lord Stark, making him stand on his own. They'd march down to the crowd, forcing them back as they made a perimeter to stop anyone from getting too close. Perhaps it was to keep the angrier commoners back or security from the people who supported Eddard.

By now the crowds baying slowly quieted down while the bells gave their final tolls. Soon silence followed as Eddard looked forward, doing his best to seem strong before everyone.

"I'm Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell…and Hand of the King." He spoke out, voice strong and clear despite his obviously weakened state. For a moment he'd pause, face tensing as if he was biting his own tongue before he'd quickly glance to his right, looking again at Sansa who gave a few short nods. "I come before you to…confess my treason…in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King…and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold…I plotted to murder his son." Again he paused, jaw shaking as he struggled to be calm as he forced himself to speak out lies. "…and seize the throne for myself."

The crowd spoke out then, mix of anger and disbelief filling the air.

"Treason!"

"Lies!"

"Damn the traitor!"

There were too many words going about, making it even hard for Geralt to understand what the crowds were even saying. However, he could see a good few being silent, doubtful despite what they were hearing. Suddenly though Ned flinched as a stone was thrown at him, striking at the right side of his brow. The Witcher clenched one hand into a fist, wishing he saw who did that just so he could crack their jaw in payment back.

The blow bruised and cut the skin over one eye, blood trickling down over it. Sandor moved up from behind as Eddard nearly lost his balance, the tall armored warrior supporting Eddard up though the Northern lord did well to straighten himself and show no sign of pain. Without hesitation, he'd continue to speak out.

"Let the High Septom and Baelor the Blessed bare witness to what I say." His head bowed slightly, getting blood out of his eye as it dripped to the ground. "Joffrey Baratheon…is the one true heir to the Iron Throne. By the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The boy had a pleased grin show on his face as Eddard 'admitted' his legitimacy. He'd glance over at his mother who had a small smile hinting her lips, enjoying her enemy submit in such a way.

Cheers began to fill the air after Eddard finished speaking, seeming pleased with the disgrace lord 'admitting' Joffrey's right to rule. However, before the crowd got too noisy, Pycelle shuffled forward with his arms raised up to get everyone attention.

"As…as we do sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men."

Geralt quickly lost track as the Grand Maester rambled on about traditions and faith, making him shut out most of the words of his long-winded speech. The old Maester would finish though, turning to look looked over towards Joffrey with arms gesturing out to him.

"…what is to be done with this…ummm…traitor your grace?"

Again, the crowd spoke out.

"Mercy!"

"Death to the traitor!"

"Let the gods decide!"

"Send him to the Wall!"

Joffrey grinned as he'd raise one arm up to silence the masses, the people eagerly awaiting his words. "My mother wishes me to have Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of all titles and powers to serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa…" He'd glance over to the young woman, the boy's face having an affectionate look on his face. "…has begged mercy for her father."

A hopefully look showed on the girl's face, a thankful smile even crossing it.

However, Geralt sensed something was wrong as Joffrey paused, glancing back towards Eddard. "But they have the soft hearts of women! So long as I'm your king, treason will never go unpunished!"

The young king's remarks drew confused looks cross Sansa's and Cersei's faces, while Tywin's expression became sterner. Even Geralt was realizing what the brat was building up to. "No…you can't be that crazy and stupid…" He muttered under his breath.

"Eddard wasn't alone in this treason and his cohorts lurk among us now. Thus, an example must be made for their defiance." He'd glance off to the right towards a group of lesser knights standing beside the stage. "Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

At that moment chaos broke out. The crowd went wild, cheers and shocked cries filling the air as the divided people spoke out. Geralt was certain many remembered the Mad King's own choice to execute a Warden of the North and how that broke out into a full out war. Others however just wanted to see a beheading happen.

Ser Ilyn, a tall bald man was quick to step up onto the stage, followed by a page carrying a massive and recognizable sheathed blade. It was Ice, House Stark's ancestral blade, the weapon Joffrey had planned to execute Ned with. Already Geralt had a gut feeling Joffrey had planned this from the start, it was the only explanation.

Two of the King's Guard stepped up, forcing Eddard down onto his knees. Ned's expression was just blank, just empty of all thought as the man was completely helpless. He had done everything right, confessing and lying for the sake of his daughter, yet now he was about to pay the ultimate price for one boy's sick enjoyment.

On the stage, Cersei grasped at Joffrey's side, speaking to him in a hushed tone though the boy ignored it, a pure look of malice in his eyes as he'd look between her and Eddard.

"NO! NO! PLEASE STOP THIS!" Sansa pleading out, trying to move closer to the boy, before one of the King's Guard behind the group moved up to keep her back. She was quick to struggle, almost slipping out of the man's grasp as she was becoming frantic now.

Tywin had a look of baffled surprise on his face, which was short lived as it twisted into anger. He'd look at Joffrey, yelling something out at him and his daughter beside him. Whatever was being said angered Joffrey back who snapped out, all while Cersei gave a look of pure terror over what was being said. If anything, Tywin seemed ready to strangle the boy, making Cersei get between them as she tried to reason with bickering two. He'd turn about to the executioner, but his commands were being drowned out among all the noise.

Varys was completely shocked by the order, the chubby man glancing a bit as if looking for someone to intervene. He'd hurry over to the other side of the stage, trying to speak between the arguing Lannister's, being completely ignored.

Jaime glanced about at everyone, unsure what to do in the pure chaos breaking out. He'd turn about to speak to Janos, trying to give orders to the man who stood about in confusion. The young knight pointed about, seeming to be wanting the Watch to intervene somehow. He'd step up towards his fellow King's Guard, trying to tell them to let Eddard go, though the men seemed unsure with the conflicting orders.

During all of this, Geralt struggled forward through the crowd, pushing and shoving until he neared the front of the stage. The Watch was struggling to keep the people back, shields up and swords even being drawn in warning. Already the Witcher questioned what to do, knowing right now the plan to save Sansa was completely changed now…ruined even. "EDDARD! EDDARD! NED!" He yelled out, trying to get his friend's attention.

The man must have heard as he glanced up suddenly, eyes wide as he'd look over the crowd before noticing Geralt. Even with the cloak hood up, he could just see the Witcher's scarred face and cat like eyes. A small smile hinted his face, though it was cut short as Ice was drawn out beside him, his executioner raising it up in show before the people.

Adrenaline kicked in as Geralt knew there were only moments left to decide. For a moment he closed his eyes, shutting out all the chaos around him. When he opened his eyes again everything was going in slow motion and the only sounds being his own heartbeat and breathing. It had been too long since he been placed in such a moment of stress, though he never expected it to happen in such a situation. His hands flexed and clenched at his sides, his body tensing up as he was ready to move.

"Hold it you…oh…oh gods!" The Guard started when Geralt pushed his way towards him, hood falling back to reveal his face. The man didn't get another word out before the studded fist of the Witcher punched right at his throat, crushing his windpipe with one move that left him gasping for air. Grasping the choking guard, he'd fling it hard to the right, slamming into the other two guards who could hardly react before being knocked to the ground.

"Its him! It's the White Wolf!" Someone in the crowd yelled out, awe in their voice. Quickly all focus on Ned's nearing death was gone as voices spoke out about Geralt, muttering his name and titles.

"Get them Witcher!"

"Someone stop him!"

"Down with the nobles!"

Suddenly people were outright fighting as the supporters of Geralt and Ned started to clash with those with the royal family. From the offhand comments it seemed there were some commoners who just wanted to lash out against the high and mighty, seeing this a chance to do so. People tried to rush the stage, forcing the line of guards to keep the mob back with raised shields and swinging swords. It was going to become a bloody brawl, but a suitable distraction for the Witcher.

Geralt didn't hesitate as he'd bend his legs and leap up onto the stage, clearing the five-foot height with ease. In mid-leap, he'd draw his steel blade before landing, body twisting about just as the execution swung Ice down. The Witcher wasn't sure if the attack was meant for Ned's neck or for him since he now stood in the way. It didn't matter though as he'd block the giant blade, the ringing sound of the two swords ringing out over all other noises.

The clang seemed to stop everything as for a moment silence filled the air as the Witcher and Ilyn struggled in a clash, though it was short lived. With a growl, Geralt pushed back to make the man stagger with Ice raised up. The steel blade then slashed across, cleanly cutting the man's hands off.

Right then did the noise return, screams, cheering and yells drowning out the executioner's garbled cries of pure pain as he dropped to the ground, shaking as he stared at his bloodied stumps while Ice clashed to the ground. However, Geralt wasn't distracted by the bloody scene as he'd twist about to face Sandor and the two King's Guard, the trio rushing in to attack without hesitation.

"Bloody Witcher!" The Hound growled out; sword raise up to strike.

Geralt simply raised up his left hand though, fingers twisting about which Sandor quickly recognized. While the dog helmed man turned away in time, the two King's Guard didn't as they got caught in the short burst of flames shot out by Igni. While it was little more then embers, the flames were enough to set their cloaks on fire and the heat to sheer the faces, making them yell out in a panic. The sight of flames had Sandor freeze up, the man backing away as the two royal guards struggled to put the flames out.

The Witcher though was not finished as he'd reach for one of the smoke bombs at his belt, throwing it to his left as Jaime and the City Watch were trying to intervene. The loud bang and thick smoke caught them all off guard, confusing them for a few short seconds, all the time Geralt needed to cut Eddard hand bonds off. He'd grasp around Ned's side, supporting him as the man struggled to get up from his knees.

"Can you move on your own?" Geralt asked as Eddard stood up, legs shaking slightly.

Ned nodded, panting as he struggled with exhaustion. "Aye…"

"Geralt!" Jaime's voice yelled out, the young knight stepping through the thick smoke. His face showing no anger, but a determined focus as he stared down the Witcher. "By order of King Joffrey, you are under arrest!"

"KILL HIM! KILL THE TRAITOR!"

Both men looked at Joffrey who was yelling from his higher spot, pure rage showing as he looked right at the Witcher. Cersei had a look of true fear, trying to tug her son as far away as possible. Sansa who was behind them had a look of shocked joy, a first for Geralt. She wasn't struggling with the lone guard who was keeping her as a hostage. Tywin meanwhile looked over at his son and the Witcher, the man having that stern look as he was no doubt thinking over the many possible outcomes that could play out.

"Seems he says otherwise." Geralt calmly stated back to Jaime. "Let me and Eddard go. Enough bloodshed has happened."

Jaime shook his head, stepping closer with his sword up. "Why…there is no escape here. This isn't going to be a repeat like before." He'd gesture out to the crowd, a riot seeming to be building up as people started to brawl between each other or with the line of guards. "Surrender. Father and I will…"

Yet Geralt shook his head. "No. No more deals or bargains. We walk…that is my offer." His gaze was tense towards Jaime, body shifting into a ready fighting stance.

"Then I'm sorry Geralt…"

At that moment there was a bang and a whistling sound, drawing yells and screams from the crowds. Everyone on the stage except Geralt looked up to see a flare streaking through the air, arching high up over the roof tops. More followed as the rest of Geralt's companions alerted the rest of their forces out from the side streets.

Geralt however took advantage of the flares as he'd rush Jaime, the young knight only able to react in time as his sword blocked the Witcher's. Both swords grinded together in a clash, sparks flying from the struggle. They'd twist their blades at the same time, breaking the sword lock before shuffling back only to lunge in again. Already the Witcher was being reminded of the duel at the Melee, showing Jaime was fully recovered since that fight.

Yet he didn't have time to settle this battle, knowing he'd soon be facing more of the Watch once they were organized. He'd put his inhuman reflexes to the limit as he'd did a well-timed parry for Jaime's next attack, breaking the knight's stance for just a split second. It was all the time he needed as he pushed his left hand right up to Jaime's breastplate, fingers gesturing the Aard Sign. In that moment, he could see a baffled look on the Lannister's face before the short burst of telekinetic energy shoved him forcefully back, throwing him into the trio of Watch guards off the edge of the stone stage and into the crowd below.

A sudden dizziness hit the Witcher after using the Sign, making his vision blur much like before. However, a firm hand on his shoulder snapped him back to focus as Eddard stood behind him, one hand grasping Ice, though more of dragging the blade. While it was no doubt far lighter than it looked, the sheer size made it too difficult to hold up properly

"Geralt! Hold on up there!" The voice of Thoros yelled out. The Witcher glanced about, seeing Thoros being flanked by Beric and ten of his men. The group was nearing the stage, forcing a way though the crowd before fighting with the few guards not tied up keeping the rioters back.

With aid coming along, Geralt focused his attention towards Sansa and the remaining Lannisters. "Stay back while I get your daughter." The calm statement showed he was dead set on his goal as he'd move towards the higher level of the stone platform. Tywin was the first in front, the old lord staring calmly at the Witcher even as he drew near.

"So, what do you plan to do Witcher?" Lord Lywin gripped the dagger at his hip, though the old man knew well he was no match for Geralt.

"I may be pissed off Tywin, yet I'm no fool like you grandson. I don't agree with you on a lot of matters, but I know you didn't have a role in your daughter's brazen schemes. I think this 'trial' was proof enough."

"Damn you Geralt! I'll make you suffer! I'll-"

"Silence boy! It was a mistake letting you and your mother set up this mock trial, all for your ego and grandstanding." He snapped out, silencing the boy. "Take the girl and Lord Stark. If they are your price, then it is one I'm willing to pay." Tywin shifted aside to let Geralt pass.

"A wise choice Lord Tywin." Slowly he'd walk past him, noting the man's cold stare though focusing towards Joffrey, Cersei and Sansa.

"Stop him!" Joffrey ordered the lone King's Guard holding Sansa in place, making the knight glance about as if thinking the boy meant someone else. "As your King I command-"

"Let Sansa go." Geralt calmly order, tracing the Axii Sign about as he forced the knight to obey him. The man relaxed, armored hands letting go of Sansa's arms. The feeling of weakness was shorter this time, showing that the more power used, the more taxing it was for him.

"So, a brute and a sorceress snake." Cersei muttered bitterly, the woman's gaze full of spite towards the Witcher. "You won't leave this city alive, not with the Watch and our soldiers after you."

"We'll see. Come along lady Sansa, it's time we left."

Sansa glanced at Joffrey and Cersei before him, nodding as she'd move towards him. Yet as she passed by the boy King, he'd suddenly lunge out at her.

"No! I won't let you!" He growled out, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her aside.

"GERALT!"

Her panic wail made the Witcher spring into action, putting his inhuman speed to full use. Cersei tried to get in his way in a blind sense of protection for her son, yet Geralt pushed her aside with ease. Nearing the boy, he'd see Joffrey drawing a dagger to threaten Sansa with…a big mistake on his part. Before he could even raise it up, the Witcher's hand grabbed his and squeezed, the soft crack of young bones snapping just being heard. Joffrey gave a pathetic cry from the pain, dropping the weapon and letting Sansa go. She'd hurry out of his reach, shaking in fear over what Joffrey had been prepared to do.

Letting go of Joffrey's hand, the boy dropping to his knees as he clenched at his broken hand, crying and whimpering. "Y-You broke my h-hand …" He stammered through the pain as he looked up at Geralt, shuffling away from the blade pointed down at him. "I-I'm the King…you…c-can't hurt t-the King…"

Despite the anger he felt, he'd remember that despite Joffrey being spoiled and psychotic brat, he was still a kid. "You're no King though, just a child playing as one." He'd move his sword away, feeling enough time was wasted with him.

Just as he was turning about, he'd quick lean away to avoid Cersei's hand trying to claw at his face. "I'll kill you! Cut those cursed eyes out for that!" She hissed out before her father grabbed her other arm, pulling her away before she could lunge out.

Geralt didn't react as he'd ignore her spitting curses, moving to Sansa who stood by looking terrified. "It's time we leave Lady Sansa." He formally said to her, offering one hand for her to take.

"I…I know…" She muttered while holding back fearful tears. "I can move on my own. Still…thank you, Geralt."

The two quickly hurried down to the main stage were already Stark loyalists had gathered up, Beric and Thoros checking up on Eddard. However, before they could reach them, Sandor and the two King's Guard stood in their way, having dealt with their fire problem. All of them looked angry as well, though seemed hesitant to rush him after seeing what Igni could do. Hopefully Geralt could use their fear to his advantage since he couldn't risk using a Sign in the middle of a fight without tiring himself.

"Sansa. Go to your father and the others." Slowly he moved to get in the way of Sandor and the King's Guard, not wanting them to try and stop Sansa from hurrying over to the Stark Loyalists. "All of you should back off. If anything, you'd be better off stopping the riot instead of us."

Sandor gave a grim chuckle, seeming amused. "This is personal Witcher. I knew since we fought all the way in Winterfell you were a cheat. Whatever your…tricks are, be it magic or crackpot alchemy."

"So, you're doing this over fucking pride then? Being that petty." By now Sansa had slipped by to hurry to the others, Eddard embracing her closely, thankful she was safe.

"Pride is all I got left and if anything, the King's Guard here want your blood for wounding their King."

There was a short standoff, the three foes shifting slightly as they were ready to attack. One of the King's Guard moved first before the other followed and Sandor behind him. At that moment Geralt drew three throwing knives with his left hand, each blade fitting between delft fingers. With pin-point accuracy, he'd throw a knife at each man, aiming for the exposed opening at the shoulder joints of their armor, focusing on disrupting their charge. For the two King's Guard, they couldn't react quickly enough as the sharp blades pierces into the exposed spot, drawing pains cries as the metal cut into sensitive muscle.

Sandor though understood the Witcher better, turning his body just enough to have the thrown blade bounce off his heavily armored shoulder. He'd keep his shoulder up for a tackling charge, though Geralt dodged aside to avoid it. Both twisted as their blades struck against each other, the Witcher holding his own against Sandor's impressive strength and larger sword. Yet he'd quickly realize this was just a ploy to distract him as the other two men had recovered from the knife throws, both closing in quickly to surround Geralt.

"Oh no you don't!" The sudden roar of Thoros drew the two knights' attention before the Red Priest lunged in, blade striking down at one to force him to defend. "Come on fight me!" The men had little choice as the wild warrior lashed out aggressively, his near suicidal behavior unlike anything they had faced.

Geralt smirked, glad he had someone watching his back. From what he could just see the others were hurrying off the stage, Eddard being supported by his daughter and Beric. Meanwhile the other men protected them from any threats, be it from the rioting mob of commoners or the guards who struggled to capture them.

"Don't have time for you Hound…" He growled before he'd force away from their blade lock, turning about for a spinning slash which the large man guarded.

"You run now and I'll hunt you to the ends of the world Witcher!" He threatened back, lashing out with a heavy back hand which Geralt leaned back to avoid.

"We'll see." Blades clashed and spun around, the Witcher putting his incredible speed to use as he forced Sandor to use his reach and size to protect himself. He'd preformed a faint, making the Hound accidently slash out which left his defenses open, giving Geralt a chance to roll past him. "Thoros! The Bombs"

"Right!" The Red Priest kicked the one of the King's Guard back before drawing his own bomb, sparking it's fuse quickly before throwing it down at the same time as Geralt's. The bombs exploded loudly before smoke filled the air, drawing curses from Sandor as he'd swing wildly out, trying to get at Geralt or the Red Priest, both having leaped off the stone platform by then.

The two had their feet land on the back of two guards struggling with the mob, knocking the men down before they hurried off. By this point there was noise on the far end of the plaza, horns being blow as Lannister soldiers came in as reinforcements, already working on breaking up the mob of brawling commoners.

"Damn it…got here faster then I thought." Geralt muttered.

"Must be Tywin's doing. Bet he knew trouble may break out one way or another…though I doubt he expected us to come in." Thoros laughed. "Need to do this more often Witcher! I haven't had his much fun since the Greyjoy Rebellion!"

The Witcher simply shook his head, too tired and focused right now to jest back. Until Eddard and his daughters were safe, then he could do that.

…

For once Geralt realized just how confusing the maze-like alleys of King's Landing were as he'd sprint through them, barely having time to figure which direction to go next. Often, he had to yell out for Thoros and even slow down for the Red Priest to keep up.

"By the Fire…slow…slow down a bit…" The man gasped out, bracing one hand to a nearby wall to catch his breath.

"Tell that to the guards closing in on us. Besides we have to catch up with the main group and make sure their safe." Just as he said that, the familiar bang and whistle of a flare filled the air, making both look upward to see the sparking light being quite close. "They're close and in trouble. Break's over."

The Red Priest sighed as he watched the Witcher hurry off before shrugging aside his exhaustion to give chase. "Damn it! Can't let you steal all the glory!"

Geralt quick traced a path to where the flare had been over, his sharp ears soon picking up yells and the sounds of fighting nearby. Rounding a corner, he'd enter a large crossroads space, pretty much a public yard the commoners came here for cleaning. Right now, though it was crowded with a frantic skirmish between the Stark Loyalists and City Watch supported by Lannister troops. Eddard was in the center, yelling out orders to the men while he kept Sansa and much to Geralt's surprise, Arya as well. The young girl glanced about in a panic, the fighting around her far more brutal and chaotic then what she had witnesses before.