The council chamber doors didn't just open; they slammed. The heavy oak thudded against the stone walls, and the sound echoed down the vaulted hallway.
I was waiting right outside. I didn't need to see through the wood to know how it went. Robert's voice had been echoing for the last ten minutes, vibrating through the floorboards and into my paws. When Ned stepped out, he wasn't wearing the small gold hand on his doublet anymore.
His face has turned cold. He didn't look at the guards. He didn't look at the servants shrinking to the side. He just walked.
"Lord Stark?" Jory asked, stepping forward from the wall. He saw Ned's chest, saw the empty spot where the badge had been, and his hand instinctively went to his sword hilt.
"We're leaving," Ned said. His voice was flat, carrying the kind of finality that didn't allow for questions. "Find the girls. Tell them to pack only what they need. We leave for Winterfell by nightfall."
I trotted beside him, my [Detection] flaring. The Red Keep had always been a hive of activity, but the frequency had changed. Usually, heartbeats here were steady, masked by the arrogance of office. Now, they were spiking.
Two Gold Cloaks were stationed at the turn of the corridor leading to the Tower of the Hand. Usually, they are very attentive or at least move their pikes to let the Hand pass. Today, they stood against us without much care, their eyes fixed forward, their pikes crossed just enough to force Ned to break his stride.
"The way is barred, Lord Stark," one of them said. His heart was hammering against his ribs- thud-thud, thud-thud, but his voice held a new, ugly edge of borrowed authority. "Orders from the Queen. No one enters or leaves the Tower without her leave."
Ned stopped. He didn't growl or shout. He just leaned in, his shadow stretching over the man. "I am still the Warden of the North. Move, or I will move you."
The guard hesitated. He looked at Ned's eyes, then he looked at me. I didn't snarl. I didn't have to. I just focused my gaze on the soft spot under his chin, my weight shifted forward, ready to launch. The guard felt the heat radiating off me, and the pikes parted just enough. Even little things could make men think twice.
We pushed through. The atmosphere inside the Tower was worse. The servants were scurrying like rats in a flooded cellar. I could smell the sharp, sour tang of their fear. They knew how the game worked. When the Hand falls, the household usually follows.
Ned went straight to his solar. He didn't sit. He began pulling parchments off his desk and shoving them into the hearth. The smell of burning ink and vellum filled the room.
"I won't let him do it," Ned muttered, more to himself than to me. "He wants to kill a child halfway across the world. A girl he's never met."
I jumped up onto the window ledge, looking out over the city. From here, King's Landing looked like a sprawling scab on the earth. I knew the timeline. Robert was furious, Cersei was already whispering in his ear, and Jaime… Jaime was out there somewhere, nursing a grudge about his brother.
A blue flicker pulsed at the edge of my vision.
[Political Chaos Meter: 80%]
[Status: The Safe Horizon has Vanished]
The system wasn't lying. At 70%, the city was dangerous. At 80%, the laws of hospitality were being shredded. We were no longer guests; we were targets.
Ned stopped his frantic cleaning and looked at me. He looked tired. Not just "end of a long day" tired, but the kind of exhaustion that gets into the marrow of a man's bones. He reached out and let his hand rest on my head. His palm was clammy.
"You've been a good companion, boy," he whispered. "Better than the men I call friends in this place."
I leaned into his hand, a solid weight against his leg. I wanted to tell him that packing wouldn't save him. I wanted to tell him that Littlefinger was already setting the trap and that leaving by nightfall was a dream Robert would never let him realize.
But I was a dog. I could only offer the heat of my body and the sharpness of my ears.
"Lord Stark!" Jory called out, entering the room. "The girls are ready. But the stables… the Master of Horse says the King's men have taken the mounts for 'official business'."
Ned's jaw tightened. "Official business. He's penning me in."
"What do we do?"
"We wait," Ned said, turning back to the fire. "Robert will cool. He always does. Give it an hour, then try the stables again."
He was wrong. Robert wouldn't cool fast enough this time. I looked back at the Chaos Meter. 80%. Every second we stayed in this tower, the walls were getting thinner.
I stayed by the door, my ears swiveling to catch the sound of boots on the stairs. I wasn't listening for servants or Jory's men. I was listening for the clank of Lannister gold. I knew the movie. I knew the scene. The storm wasn't coming; it was already inside the gates.
I sat down, my claws digging into the rug. I didn't care about the King or his council. I just looked at Ned, then toward the rooms where Arya and Sansa were waiting. The pack was in danger, and the only one who saw the knives coming was the one who couldn't speak.