After the end of my training with Kylo Ren in the Jedi Temple, I felt my awareness begin to fade, and soon my focus was back in the rough cells of Winterfell.

' God! What a downgrade!

Too bad I couldn't stay there for as long as I wanted. I had a head to save

As my consciousness settled, I realized that something was wrong.

Will was pacing around like a freaked-out man, and on seeing my eyes open, he rushed to my side.

"Thank the gods you're awake," he exclaimed, "the king has already arrived!"

"What! The king is here!" I yelled for a moment, hoping I heard him wrong.

"Yes, he arrived almost two hours ago; I could hear the noise even from here," the night's watch deserter affirmed, dispelling all my hopes.

Talk about a buzzkill!

I tried to play it cool, but a thin layer of sweat had already begun to form on my forehead as tension started to build inside me. I had thought we had a few days before the king's arrival, but I quickly realized that relying on my knowledge of the show's events was not going to cut it.

If Robert Baratheon was already here, that meant that things were already unfolding differently from the original canon, and I needed to adapt.

This would mean that by the time lord Stark was telling me that the king was coming to winterfell,the king's procession had indeed been around the White habour.

I made a mental note about this.

But let's be real: the king arriving early was the least of our worries. I for one, was sick of staring at the pale walls and breathing in the stale air. Besides, no matter how long it took, he was still the same man who would order our execution, and we were the same guys whose noggins would face the executioner's block.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, seeing the concern etched on my face.

"I am fine," I answered, "at least for now."

I tried to push myself from my meditative position. My backside felt numb and stinging from several hours of being pressed on the hard floor.

Seeing my strained efforts, Will lent me his hand and helped me up. I could see the fear on his face as he looked closely at me. And who could blame him? , Imagine the guy you were depending on to save your head suddenly looking as if he wouldn't make it through the hour.

"I said I am a fine man. Stop giving me that look. It's just that I am starving".

We certainly hadn't had anything decent for almost the entire day, and my stomach was rumbling with hunger.

Just then, a familiar jiggling of keys came from the cell door. Neither of us needed to be told what was coming.

My hand unconsciously reached for the spot where I had hidden my lightsaber. The metallic texture within my robe reassured me that it was still there.

This surprised me since, when leaving the Jedi Temple, I had just clipped it to the belt around my waist. but it seemed like the saber had stayed where I had hidden it all along. I wasn't complaining, though.

"So what is the plan?" Will inquired as he looked at me with his terrified countenance. Good lord, the guy looked just like a White Walker caught in a heat wave.

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The door creaked open, ushering in two armed guards and one with iron chains, just like last time.

"Face the wall, both of you." It was the same cold voice as the last time, except this time, it packed even more malice.

Both Will and I complied. "The plan is simple; just shut up and do everything I tell you," I whispered as the guard finished chaining us.

And then our ride to hell began.

As the soldiers led us out of the cells, I began to feel my knees buckling. I hadn't even realized that I was holding so much tension inside me.

Despite my best efforts to avoid thinking about our circumstances, it appeared that events had ultimately caught up with us. I couldn't procrastinate any longer, no matter how hard I tried.

Perhaps one reason I avoided forming a plan was that most plans tend to go wrong just at the last stretch. On the other hand, if I kept my mind open, I could spot chances as they presented themselves. This is something I learned from Little Finger. As he would often say, "Chaos is a ladder".

It is funny because that same man was here today, perhaps even advising the king to execute us.

As we strutted out of the cell compound, it didn't take me long to realize what was happening. In a way, this was what I had expected all along. They were not taking us to the great hall, which is where the king would likely hear our case, they were leading us past the kennels to what I knew to be the hunter's gate of the Winterfell castle.

"So much for justice '. I thought to myself,

There was no semblance of a fair trial here; this was just the confirmation of our death sentence. Trials were held in the throne room, not the execution field. The fact that the king had decided to hear us elsewhere was proof enough. Maybe Robert wanted to get done with us and continue his hunting.

As a sworn nerd, I had familiarized myself with every major thing in the show, and one of those things was the Winterfell castle.

The hunter's gate gave access to Wolfswood, which was not quite far from the castle. That must be where the soldiers were taking us. They probably didn't want our blood within their walls.

We had traversed the changing terrains within the woods until we suddenly came into an open clearing within the forest

From a distance, I watched a crowd almost four times as big as the last time slowly come into focus.

Apart from the Winterfell contingent, there was now the king, of course, alongside his general, Ser Barrister, Jaimie Lannister, and, of course, the infamous Petyr Baylish.

There were too many soldiers present, that I felt a tight knot form in my stomach.

Our escape here would either have to be a blood bath or a freaking genius plan.

The big problem was that I am no genius. I'm more of a "wing it and hope for the best" kind of guy. Neither was I a Grandmaster Yonda-type Jedi. Heck, the only thing that even remotely related me to The Force was my lightsaber and my poor grasp of the Shii Choo form.

At this rate, it would take a stroke of luck if we saw the sunrise the next morning.

I noticed Tyrion Lannister next to the kingslayer, his piercing gaze running over me as if he were hunting for some information. That guy always seemed up to something.

We were roughly forced to kneel before the king, who was standing next to Eddard Stark.

"Aah!" Robert Baratheon sighed, towering over us. His huge belly was heaving as he addressed me.

"So I hear you are not from Westeros," he queried with his beady eyes scanning me up and down, "which makes me wonder, where are you from and what could your mission be in my domains?"

It took me the strength of iron not to just spit at the man and be done with it.

What Robert Baratheon was doing was not any different from a cat playing with a mouse, fully knowing that eventually the mouse would go down its belly. The king was just trying to get information from us before doing what he desired to do all along.

Well, the joke's on him. I may be a mouse, but I'm a scrappy one. And I'm not going down without a fight

'Restrain Eron, restrain'.

I mentally psyched myself. After all, a man who was led by his emotions was just a slave even without the chains.

I had to wait for that opening to present itself—just a small chance to draw my saber. Then we would find out who was the real boss.

Speaking of people led by emotions; an idea suddenly occurred to me: what if I didn't need to wait for the opening to present itself? What if I was supposed to create that opening?

For the first time since learning the king's intentions, I felt a thrill of excitement course through me.

From my knowledge, I knew that the king was always paranoid that the mad king's children were constantly planning to murder him. He was always in fear, as he was aware that even some of his subjects called him 'the usurper'.

My way forward had never been this clear since finding myself in Westeros. This was my chance.

They say that the best defense is often a good offense. I decided to push the king's insecurities to the brink. With a newfound boldness, I maliciously spat on the ground and raised my head to face the monarch.

"Since you're going to execute us anyway," I began, my voice dripping with fake hatred, "I might as well tell you the truth, usurper."

Internally, I was fervently praying to any deity that would listen because if my plan failed, I had just dug a grave for both Will and me.

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