A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

one.
    Ned’s leg was a blaze of pain by the time he stopped. He kept a hand on Littlefinger’s shoulder to help support his weight.
    Joffrey stood. His red satin cape was patterned in gold thread; fifty roaring lions to one side, fifty prancing stags to the other. “I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation,” the boy proclaimed. “I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.”
    Ned produced Robert’s letter. “Lord Varys, be so kind as to show this to my lady of Lannister.”
    The eunuch carried the letter to Cersei. The queen glanced at the words. “Protector of the Realm,” she read. “Is this meant to be your shield, my lord? A piece of paper?” She ripped the letter in half, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor.
    â€œThose were the king’s words,” Ser Barristan said, shocked.
    â€œWe have a new king now,” Cersei Lannister replied. “Lord Eddard, when last we spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my lord. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and live out your days in the grey waste you call home.”
    â€œWould that I could,” Ned said grimly. If she was so determined to force the issue here and now, she left him no choice. “Your son has no claim to the throne he sits. Lord Stannis is Robert’s true heir.”
    â€œLiar!”
Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.
    â€œMother, what does he mean?” Princess Myrcella asked the queen plaintively. “Isn’t Joff the king now?”
    â€œYou condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark,” said Cersei Lannister. “Ser Barristan, seize this traitor.”
    The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hesitated. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Stark guardsmen, bare steel in their mailed fists.
    â€œAnd now the treason moves from words to deeds,” Cersei said. “Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone, my lord?” With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.
    â€œKill him!”
the boy king screamed down from the Iron Throne.
“Kill all of them, I command it!”
    â€œYou leave me no choice,” Ned told Cersei Lannister. He called out to Janos Slynt. “Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.”
    â€œMen of the Watch!” Janos Slynt shouted, donning hishelm. A hundred gold cloaks leveled their spears and closed.
    â€œI want no bloodshed,” Ned told the queen. “Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need—”
    With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into Tomard’s back. Fat Tom’s blade dropped from nerveless fingers as the wet red point burst out through his ribs, piercing leather and mail. He was dead before his sword hit the floor.
    Ned’s shout came far too late. Janos Slynt himself slashed open Varly’s throat. Cayn whirled, steel flashing, drove back the nearest spearman with a flurry of blows; for an instant it looked as though he might cut his way free. Then the Hound was on him. Sandor Clegane’s first cut took off Cayn’s sword hand at the wrist; his second drove him to his knees and opened him from shoulder to breastbone.
    As his men died around him, Littlefinger slid Ned’s dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin. His smile was apologetic. “I
did
warn you not to trust me, you know.”

ARYA
    â€œH igh,” Syrio Forel called out, slashing at her head. The stick swords
clacked
as Arya parried. “Left,” he shouted, and his blade came whistling. Hers darted to meet it. The
clack
made him click his teeth together.
    â€œRight,” he said, and “Low,” and “Left,” and “Left” again, faster and faster, moving forward. Arya retreated before him, checking each blow.
    â€œLunge,” he warned, and when he thrust she sidestepped, swept his blade away, and slashed at his shoulder. She almost touched him,
almost
, so close it made her grin. A strand of hair dangled in her eyes, limp with sweat. She pushed