WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐗𝐈𝐈. catacombs

"I'll wait here."

Varys handed Anrir a torch. They were alone in the darkness of the catacombs that reached deep into the stone of the red keep. Anrir missed Riverfall. Even though his homeland probably seemed similarly daunting to most, he loved the castle. The song of the waterfall, the gentle wind that always blew through the castle. What was clammy and draughty for others was home for him.

Of course, he also belonged to the Eyrie and felt at home there too. But in Riverfall it was a different feeling that accompanied him. Loving Riverfall was an instinct, something that was ingrained in him, even if he hadn't grown up there. He would never meet another Riverfall, never learn from anyone what it meant to belong to this house. He found his own way.

He picked up the torch, gave Varys a quick glance before stepping into the darkness. It was not difficult for him to adjust his eyes to the light conditions and so he followed the path Varys had described to him. The stone around him was reddish, not black, and streaked with silver veins like in his castle. The stone was damp, as if it was sweating. Anrir grimaced. He hated this city.

He quickly found the cell where Ned was locked up. He could hear Ned moving in the semi-darkness before he saw him.

"It's me," Anrir spoke softly. He attached the torch to an iron ring on the wall, then unlocked the cell with the key Varys had given him. It was not the one that belonged to the eunuch, a poorly made copy. When Varys had handed Anrir the key, they had exchanged a brief glance. Anrir with questioning eyes, while Varys looked meaningless as ever. An offer, that was this key that would not lead back to either of them.

A chance.

Anrir stepped up to Ned as he carefully stowed the key away. The Northman had sweaty hair and pale skin, smelled of inflamed flesh.

"Oh Ned..." he whispered, sitting down next to him. Ned's gray eyes were slightly narrowed against the glow of the torch.

"Anrir," he gasped softly, "Varys said he'd bring you here..."

"You trust him?"

"Who can I trust in this wretched city anyway?"

"Me," Anrir spoke firmly, taking Ned's face in his hands. They rested their foreheads together, Ned had one hand on Anrir's upper arm, holding on tightly.

"How are my girls?"

"I don't know- I was locked up, with Lark in my chambers. I swear to you, I'll find a way to help them."

Ned nodded wanly. In a brief, familiar movement, they leaned against each other; Ned against Anrir's chest, Anrir with his arms around him and his head on the northman's shoulder.

"Varys has a key - I don't know where from. But he can get us out of here. We'll flee to Winterfell. We could unite the north and the east and fight the Lannisters. We've had bigger opponents. We ask for help from the Baratheons and put Stannis on the iron throne. As long as we are safe. As long as there isn't another madman on the throne who brings misfortune to the seven kingdoms. Let's bring peace back to the people of Westeros." Anrir took a deep breath after he had finished his little speech.

Ned lay leaning against his chest, motionless and breathing heavily. Anrir allowed himself to stroke his chest and take his hand. He loved this man and he loved the people of the Vale. He would save Ned and keep the peace.

"No."

"What?!"

"I will appeal to Cersei's reason, I will not flee."

"You fool, you miserable fool. Trying to find reason in a Lannister is like trying to find gold in a turd. Don't you remember Elia and her children? That's what the Lannisters do!"