The doors to the Throne Room didn't just close; they thudded with a weight that carried through the stone under my paws. The sound was cold and dry. It didn't echo. It just settled there.
I knew what was coming next.
There wasn't anything I could do to stop it.
Still, I stayed close to Ned's boot.
I could hear his heartbeat and I could feel the tension in him. He didn't like this. Didn't like the way this court worked, the way words and smiles hid lies.
And he didn't know what was about to happen.
I wanted to look up at him, do something to warn him. To make him stop. And let him know, every second he stood here brought him closer to the end.
But I was just a dog to them, too weak to do anything. Maybe I could burn something… but how far would that get me?
My gaze moved to the Kingsguard. Then to the City Watch Commander.
Janos Slynt stood among his men, and I caught the sour edge of sweat coming off him even from where I was. He wasn't standing straight. His weight leaned forward slightly. And I'm sure he'd already made his bed.
Still clueless Ned walked on.
His pace didn't change. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, on the throne. The parchment sat tight in his hand, creased along the edges where his grip had tightened, like it still meant something.
He stepped to the foot of the dais.
Alone.
Still expecting there is something he could do.
"Lord Stark," Joffrey said.
He slouched on the Iron Throne, legs not quite reaching the edge. He looked bored at first, but when his eyes settled on me, a thin smile touched his lips. I had seen that look before and I know what's coming for me.
"My mother says you're done being Hand."
Ned didn't look at him.
He handed the will to Ser Barristan.
The old knight broke the seal. The sound of wax cracking carried in the silence. For a moment, no one moved.
Then Cersei stepped forward, took the parchment and tore it in one clean motion.
"Is this your shield, Lord Stark?" she asked. The look on her face said everything. "A piece of paper?"
Ned's jaw tightened. I felt the tremor in his leg beside me.
He looked at the torn scraps, then at the Gold Cloaks surrounding him.
"Those were Robert's words," Ned said. His voice was rough.
"We have a new King now," Cersei replied.
Janos Slynt didn't hesitate to utter, "Seize them!"
Everything broke at once.
Golden cloaks surged forward. Stark guards tried to close in, but the space was already gone. Too many cloaks and too little time to react.
Littlefinger moved in behind Ned, his hand sliding toward the dagger at Ned's belt.
I saw it and knew it.
It was all happening the way I knew it would. Maybe a little different. But not enough to make a difference.
Frustration hit me hard. I really wanted to bite Littlefinger's throat out, but I'm too weak for such a demonstration to come out alive. If I die here, nothing gonna change.
Then Ser Meryn Trant came for me instead, his gauntlet dropping fast.
I dropped lower and slipped between his legs before his hand hit the ground.
A servant girl stood ahead of me, frozen with a tray in her hands. There wasn't room to go around so I drove straight through her ankles.
She cried out as she fell. The tray crashed against the stone, silver cups scattering, wine spilling wide across the floor.
My paws hit the wet stone and slid, but only to catch myself and keep moving.
A spear came down behind me, striking the ground where I had been a moment before. Another blocked my path. I veered, slammed into a guard's knee, and felt him stumble into the spilled wine.
That gave me just enough space.
The hanging along the wall moved as I hit it.
Behind it, a narrow servant's door.
I forced my way through with my shoulder. The wood slammed shut behind me, cutting off the noise of the hall, the shouting, the clash and the dying men's screams.
I ran.
The passage was tight, the air stale there. Still I kept going. My claws scraped against the floor as I pushed deeper into the dark.
I didn't stop until the noise faded enough to think.
A junction opened beneath the floor above. I dropped low there, pressing into the shadows.
Boots thundered overhead.
"The hound went this way!" a voice shouted. Armor clanked as they ran. "Check the lower vents. His Grace wants the hound."
"The thing nearly took my foot off," another grumbled. "Why are we chasing a hound?"
Their voices faded as the last of them moved on.
I stayed perfectly still, my muzzle pressed against the cold dirt of the tunnel floor. Joffrey really wants to break me.
I lifted my head and looked down the tunnel ahead.
The Red Keep was full of paths they didn't know. I slowed for half a step, thinking of Ned standing alone in that hall with a knife on his neck.
Nothing changed
I stood there for half a breath longer before I kept moving.
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