Catelyn Stark could not ignore what Bran had said.
Even though his words had sounded like the frightened ramblings of a child, there had been something unsettling in his tone—something that lingered in her heart long after he finished speaking.
As a mother, she could not dismiss it so easily.
Without delay, she sought out her husband, Eddard Stark, and urged him to send additional letters to Winterfell, hoping to confirm that everything in the North remained safe and unchanged.
However, the Seven Kingdoms were vast.
The North lay far beyond the Neck, separated by distance, harsh terrain, and time itself. Even with trained ravens carrying messages, it would take days—perhaps longer—before any reply could return.
Eddard, for his part, remained calm.
He comforted his wife with gentle reassurance.
"What could possibly happen in the North?" he said. "It is a harsh land, yes—but it is ours. Our people are strong, our bannermen loyal."
To him, Bran's dream was nothing more than the imagination of a traumatized child.
After all, the war had just ended.
The Northern army had returned home, their banners lowered, their swords sheathed. Each lord had taken his men back to his lands. The soldiers who had marched south now walked familiar roads once more.
And in that war—
The North had played a crucial role.
Even if some might say their contribution seemed indirect, their presence alone had been enough to pressure Tywin Lannister. Without the Northern army constantly advancing, could Karl Stone have seized the opportunity to turn the tide of battle?
Unlikely.
Victory had many fathers—but the North was certainly one of them.
Hearing Ned's reasoning, Catelyn slowly calmed.
Perhaps Bran truly had only been frightened.
Perhaps there was nothing to worry about.
Still, her heart could not fully settle.
Holding Bran close, she stroked his hair gently, her touch steady and warm. Gradually, the boy's trembling ceased, and his breathing returned to normal.
He leaned into her embrace, seeking comfort.
Catelyn made a silent decision.
No matter what, she would remain in King's Landing for now.
Bran needed her.
Whether it took months, years, or even longer—she would stay by his side until his wounds, both physical and mental, had healed.
Then, another thought crossed her mind.
The marriage pact.
During the war, Eddard had agreed to a betrothal with House Frey—an arrangement born of necessity rather than desire.
Catelyn frowned slightly.
Perhaps…
Perhaps Bran's condition could be used as a reason to delay—or even cancel—the engagement.
Walder Frey was cunning, but even he might hesitate to bind his family to a child in such a fragile state.
Yes.
She would speak with Ned about it later.
Around them, the court paid little attention to Bran's earlier words.
The nobles of King's Landing smiled indulgently, treating it as nothing more than a child's nightmare.
After all—
Who had not dreamed of monsters in their youth?
Soon, their attention shifted entirely to the Iron Throne.
The atmosphere in the hall grew tense.
Tywin Lannister's fate had already been decided.
Stripped of power and sentenced to take the black, he would be sent to the Wall, where he would spend the remainder of his life as a member of the Night's Watch.
A former lord of unmatched wealth and influence—
Reduced to a brother in black.
The contrast was stark.
As he was escorted away, the weight of his downfall seemed to echo through the hall.
Yet, his departure was only the beginning.
What followed—
Was the true purpose of this gathering.
A list was brought forward.
It had been prepared by the Small Council, reviewed, and approved by King Robert himself.
As the official began to read, his voice rang clearly through the chamber.
Rewards.
Titles.
Lands.
Gold.
One by one, the merits of the war were acknowledged.
Even Stannis Baratheon and Renly Baratheon received their due share.
But as the announcements continued, a subtle shift occurred.
The gazes of those present began to converge.
Toward one man.
Karl Stone.
And beside him—
Eddard Stark.
When the list ended, the official stepped back.
For a moment, silence fell.
Then—
King Robert stirred.
He had seemed bored throughout the proceedings, but now his interest returned.
He glanced at Eddard.
Eddard met his gaze.
A silent understanding passed between them.
Stannis, watching from the side, frowned slightly.
Renly, ever amused, smirked faintly.
Eddard Stark rose.
His voice, when he spoke, was steady and commanding.
"Regarding the rebellion of Tywin Lannister, former Warden of the West…"
Every word carried weight.
"…his attempt to usurp the throne, and the devastation caused by his actions…"
The hall fell completely silent.
"In the name of King Robert Baratheon…"
He paused briefly.
"I declare the following judgment."
All eyes were upon him.
"The Lannister family is stripped of all lands, titles, and honors."
"A complete confiscation of property is hereby enacted."
A collective breath was held.
"The House of Lannister… is no more."
Among the crowd, Tyrion Lannister stood frozen.
He had witnessed the fall of his family firsthand.
Once, they had been the most powerful house in Westeros.
Now—
They were nothing.
His lips curved into a bitter smile.
His eyes lowered, shadowed by grief.
Yet no one spared him a glance.
In victory, there was no room for sympathy.
Eddard continued.
"However… in recognition of Tywin Lannister's final surrender…"
"And acknowledging that many houses of the West acted under coercion…"
"The Crown shall not pursue further punishment against those houses."
Relief spread among some of the gathered nobles.
"But all damages caused during the war… must be repaid in accordance with the law."
Justice.
Tempered with mercy.
Then came the turning point.
"A kingdom cannot remain leaderless," Eddard declared.
"The West must have a new ruler."
A ripple of anticipation passed through the hall.
"In recognition of his extraordinary merit…"
"The man who turned the tide of war…"
"Ser Karl Stone."
All eyes turned.
"In the name of King Robert Baratheon…"
"I hereby grant him the titles of Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Shield of Lannisport."
The words struck like thunder.
"At the same time, his former title shall be relinquished…"
"And the position of Warden of the East shall return to Robert Arryn."
Karl Stone remained calm.
This outcome did not surprise him.
He had already anticipated it.
The West was too valuable to leave unattended—
Yet too dangerous for the Crown to hold directly.
Granting it to a neutral figure—
Someone powerful, yet without an independent base—
Was the perfect solution.
And Karl—
Was exactly that.
A man of merit.
A man without a faction.
And most importantly—
A man tied to the King by blood.
He rose slowly.
Under countless gazes, he stepped forward.
His footsteps echoed across the stone floor.
When he reached the Iron Throne, he paused.
Then—
He drew his sword.
The blade gleamed under the light.
Placing it beside him, he lowered himself onto one knee.
His head bowed.
His voice rang clear and unwavering.
"Karl Stone…"
"I swear my loyalty."
"To you, my King."
In that moment—
A new lord was born.
And the balance of the Seven Kingdoms—
Shifted once more.
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