What If Ned Stark Called for a Trial by Combat?

What If Ned Stark Called for a Trial by Combat? Let's walk through how this could have unfolded. Ned stands frozen as the last of his men fall around him. He does not move. He barely breathes. He looks from Littlefinger to the queen, and the picture becomes very clear. Within minutes the throne room is locked down. Ned is shoved to his knees, staring up at Cersei and Joffrey. Joffrey: Kill him. Do it now. Cersei: All in good time. First he confesses. Do that, and I give you my word we will show you mercy. Ned sweeps his eyes across the room. Most of the men standing around him have their swords already drawn, waiting for the word. But not all of them. A few still have their blades sheathed, and those are the ones Ned is looking at. One of them is Ser Barristan. He takes his chance. Ned: Is this truly how you want things to begin? The boy has not even been crowned a full day and already this is what it looks like? Cersei: Hold your tongue. You tried to steal the throne from my son. And before that, your wife seized my brother without cause. Ned: Your brother was released after a proper hearing. You stand here talking about justice while refusing to give me the same. If I am to answer for anything, then I have the right to a Trial by Combat. The room goes still. Joffrey's face goes red. His guards look ready to move. But Cersei pauses, something working behind her eyes. Then she lets out a slow breath and gives a single nod. Cersei: So be it. If you want to die with a sword nearby, that can be arranged. Though I doubt you will find anyone willing to stand for you. Barristan: I will stand for him. Joffrey: What? Stand down, ser. Cersei: Think carefully about what you are doing. This trial is brought against a man accused of moving against the crown. It would be entirely wrong for a member of the Kingsguard to fight on his behalf. Barristan: With respect, your grace — Joffrey has not yet been crowned. And the accusation is being made in the name of a king who has not spoken these words himself. You tore up that document, but the words on it were still his. My duty is to the king, and that means I have every reason to be here. Cersei: Then you will share whatever fate he earns. The crown puts forward Jaime Lannister as its champion. The trial will take place when he arrives. Until then, the two of you can wait in your cells. The guards take Ned away. As he is led out, he looks back at Barristan. The old knight gives him a slow, steady nod. In truth, this buys time more than anything else. Outside the city, the North and the Lannisters are already tearing through the Riverlands, and the Baratheons are quietly building their numbers. No one makes a move on King's Landing. Ned waits in the dark of the black cells. Barristan is kept in his quarters in the White Tower. Both men hold themselves with quiet dignity, day after day, until the sound of hooves finally echoes through the city gates — and a figure in gilded armor rides in with golden hair catching the light. Ned is marched back into the throne room. Barristan is already there, armored and standing straight. Across from him stands Jaime. The easy confidence he usually carries is not there today. In its place is something harder and more careful. Jaime: This does not have to end with anyone dead, Stark. Confess, and you go to the Wall. Simple as that. Ned: The only confession that needs to happen here is yours. There is nothing left to say. Both men draw their swords and begin to circle each other. The hall is completely quiet — just the low crackle of the torches and the sound of steady breathing. Jaime moves first. He fakes to the left and cuts hard to the right. But Barristan has seen that kind of move before. He steps back, pushes the blade aside, and swings back sharply enough to make Jaime give ground. It does not last. Jaime pushes forward again, throwing a string of fast, clean strikes. He is quick and his form is almost flawless, but Barristan takes each one with a calmness that seems to unsettle him. Sweat begins to gather on the old knight's brow. He knows he cannot keep absorbing pressure like this forever. Then Barristan shifts. As Jaime winds up for another strike, the old man turns it aside and drives his sword forward. The blade catches Jaime square on the breastplate — not enough to wound him, but enough to break his rhythm. His next move comes out sloppy. Barristan does not hesitate. He presses forward — not fast, but controlled — and suddenly it is Jaime who is giving ground. Each strike lands on Jaime's armor, steady and deliberate, every one of them a demand to stop and yield. Jaime's composure starts to crack. He winds up for a big overhead blow, putting everything into it. Barristan meets it straight on, their blades locking above their heads. Then the old knight twists sharply, throws Jaime's sword wide, and drives his pommel hard into Jaime's ribs. #gameofthrones #nedstark #gameofthroneswhatif