A woman, no matter how beautiful, becomes nothing but ugly when she lets out a piercing scream, more resembling a degraded monkey.
Her affected scream was cut short by Robert's roar: 'Shut up, woman!'
Queen Cersei ceased her scream, shooting a cold warning glance at her husband, her eyes betraying a hint of resentment and disgust, as she icily remarked, 'Your Majesty, the Stark family has violated the rights of guests, they deserve to be cursed!'
The queen's summary was evidently well-learned and adept at hitting the key points, but it was an accusation that no one could afford to take on, nor was it plausible.
The bewildered Duke of Stark paused for a moment, about to say something, when Robert slapped him across the face, sending Cersei stumbling, caring little for how this slap would be perceived by others about the royal couple.
'Don't talk nonsense about guest rights, did Tywin not teach you how to speak?' the king was about to rebuke, but was halted by Duke Eddard.
'There's no need for that, Your Majesty,' he glanced at the dumbfounded royal guards, finally someone reacted and assisted the queen who was covering her face.
Robert was done being here, yet Cersei stood in his way, her emerald eyes shimmering with anger.
'Your Majesty, my father will not stand idly by while a Lannister is killed and the culprit walks away unharmed!'
'Don't use Tywin's old lion to threaten me!' the king angrily muttered, glancing at the silent Kray, irritably ordering, 'Lock him up then, until I leave, remember, I want him alive, Ned, you're in charge, that's settled!'
The king gave the order, and no one dared to oppose it, the king's corpulent figure vanished, the queen sneered, and with her guards, she departed, never once glancing back at Kray standing silently there.
The gaze of the crowd settled on the Duke Eddard who remained, his face grim and serious, heaved a quiet sigh, and walked over to Kray:
'Boy, you didn't need to kill him.'
'No need to trouble yourself, Your Grace, you just do what you need to do.'
'The Lannisters won't play by the rules.'
'Please rest assured, Your Grace, they can't kill me.'
Looking at Kray, who managed a smirk, Eddard Stark didn't know where he found his confidence, but at this point, there was no other way. The Duke of Winterfell felt deeply frustrated; he couldn't protect his vassal, even on his own turf. Thus, his resentment towards the Lannister family grew. He instructed Ser Rodrik to take Kray to the dungeon, to take good care of him, and at the same time, ordered that Wylla and the people from White Harbor be brought into the main keep, the true domain of the North.
He particularly instructed Ser Rodrik to personally oversee every meal for Kray and to have guards posted day and night.
...
Having lived for two lifetimes, this was Kray's first time in jail, and to be honest, it wasn't much different from what he had imagined.
Though he was a nobleman, and the jailers of House Stark sympathized with and supported Kray, a prison was still a prison. Ser Rodrik led him to a slightly larger dimly lit room.
'You stay here; this is the best cell in Winterfell, damned Lannister,' Ser Rodrik cursed before cautiously briefing Kray on some details of the prison.
He couldn't stay here forever; if there was a real emergency, Kray had to rely on his own judgment. Kray carefully remembered what Ser Rodrik had said. Although as a witcher, witcher potions couldn't kill him, let alone ordinary poisons, the Lannisters wouldn't likely use something as advanced as the Tears of Lys for assassination. To put it bluntly, Kray wasn't worthy of it.
If an assassin came directly, Kray wasn't afraid either. Although his sword, his tool for the trade, had been confiscated, Ser Rodrik had given him a dagger. As long as it wasn't a crossbow or a pitchfork, Kray reckoned he would be fine. And all of this was predicated on whether Cersei, that woman, would really send someone to kill him. Kray didn't think Cersei was that stupid. Although she wasn't particularly smart, how she managed to fool around with Jaime for so many years without Robert noticing was beyond Kray's comprehension.
Kray spent two quiet days in the cell. On the second night, as he was dozing off on the bed, he suddenly heard faint footsteps coming from outside the door.
The footsteps drew closer, though already faint, but to Kray, the witcher, they sounded as if marching in perfect formation.Kray instantly became alert, but he didn't move, lying on his side in bed, his eyes narrowed to slits in the darkness, staring fixedly at the door. Before long, a lean figure dressed in black approached, stealthily opening the door in the flickering candlelight. Kray recognized the key, which should have been at the jailer's waist. If the Stark family's jailer hadn't betrayed them, he would probably be unconscious by now. Did Cersei really think to send an assassin? Is that the extent of her cunning? Kray watched as the assassin prepared to strike, feeling relieved yet baffled by countless questions.Wait, what if this assassin isn't from the Lannisters?In a flash of thought, Kray abandoned the idea of attacking, as he heard the assassin's whisper, "Lord Kray, regards from the Lannisters!" The swoosh of the blade followed, and Kray rolled aside just in time to evade the fatal blow.The assassin paused for a moment, stunned that his assured strike had missed. Kray had actually dodged it!With no time to waste, knowing his mission was to kill Kray, the assassin immediately prepared to pursue him. But as he raised his gaze, a hand was extended before him, in a strange gesture, thumb separated, index and middle finger together, ring finger and pinky bent.In a haze, the assassin seemed to see a faint green inverted triangle flash by."Yrden," Kray muttered.The blade that was about to strike abruptly halted in mid-air, the assassin's amber eyes widening, vacant and hollow. He stood there in silence, like a puppet.Thankfully, it worked. Kray was already prepared to strike with his dagger if Yrden failed to hold him. The reason for not immediately dispatching him with the dagger was that Kray suddenly considered another possibility. If he were assassinated, almost everyone would assume it was the work of the Lannisters. But what if someone wanted everyone to believe that? Killing him on Stark territory, blaming the Lannisters. It was a possibility.Kray leaned against the wall, asking, "Who sent you?" The question seemed to cause the assassin unbearable pain, his features contorting beneath the black cloth, but ultimately, he couldn't resist the power of Yrden.And so, Kray heard it:Petyr Baelish!