Eddard Stark looked up from his desk wearily.
He was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but the Seven Kingdoms still needed managing. The king, who ought to have been seated upon the Iron Throne, was lying sick... no, lying in bed recovering from his injuries, yet he had left the entire mess he created to the Hand of the King. Then again, even if Robert were healthy and whole, Eddard never expected him to shoulder any of the responsibilities.
With the fatigue came a great deal of anger.
The perfect plan had been ruined by the king's recklessness. Not only had they failed to achieve their intended goal, but the King of the Seven Kingdoms had nearly been caught up in the chaos himself. Eddard truly felt the urge to rip the badge of office from his chest and fling it in Robert's face, telling him to govern the realm himself.
After imagining the scene of "taking the silver collar pin from his chest and throwing it in Robert's face," Eddard felt his fatigue ease a little. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the two key officials who had come to see him. "Tell me. What news?"
Varys gave Pycelle a look and motioned for him to speak first.
The Grand Maester had no choice but to speak, his voice trembling. "Lord Eddard, the lords of the Reach and the Riverlands along the Gold Road received a letter from the Night's Watch. Three days ago, thousands of Westerlands soldiers split into several groups and entered their territory. They drove off and intimidated the search parties you had ordered... They then moved east along the Gold Road and returned to the Westerlands the day before yesterday. We have reason to believe the queen and Ser Jaime were escorted back to Casterly Rock by Lord Tywin's army."
"There was no battle?" Eddard asked, displeased. "The lords of the Reach simply allowed Tywin's men to march through their lands, seizing the queen and her brother—who committed adultery and attacked the king—right under their noses?!"
"Calm yourself, Lord Stark." Varys glanced at Pycelle and spoke softly, his voice tinged with perfume. "The echoes of The Rains of Castamere still ring in the ears of the realm's nobles. Until the Iron Throne officially declares war on Lord Tywin, few will dare oppose the lion openly. But I believe... instead of blaming the Riverlords and Reachmen for not confronting Tywin, it would be better to ask—how did Casterly Rock act so quickly? How did they manage to send troops to rescue Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime?"
...
"Someone must have sent word, Lord Eddard..." Pycelle said firmly. "King's Landing is hundreds of miles from Casterly Rock. Based on the timeline, Lord Tywin learned of the Red Keep's chaos the next day and dispatched a rescue force immediately. Only birds could carry a message that swiftly. It must have been someone from the Reach who received the Hand's orders and relayed them to Casterly Rock... Unfortunately, we sent out dozens of identical letters, and so we'll never determine which one it was."
"Grand Maester Pycelle's reasoning is sound." Varys folded his hands on his knees and smiled. "But there is another possibility not yet raised. What if the message didn't come from a lord in the Reach, but from someone in King's Landing itself?"
"That's impossible... I hold every key to the rookery in King's Landing. I personally released every raven carrying the message. The letters were written by the Hand's attendants and me. They can all testify to this!"
"Just because the letter was sent out properly doesn't mean the place it was sent from was secure."
"Are you accusing me of warning the Lannisters?" Pycelle's beard quivered in anger. "As Grand Maester, I would never commit such a treasonous act! You may inspect the rookery—there isn't a single raven missing!"
"Lord Pycelle, don't be upset. I believe the rookery is perfectly in order. I said the message came from King's Landing, but I never claimed it came from the Red Keep." Varys smiled sweetly and continued. "Perhaps some commoner had a bird of their own and decided to inform Lord Tywin, yes?"
"It's possible," Pycelle muttered, staring at Varys. But he still couldn't tell if the eunuch knew something or was merely speculating. Either way, there was no evidence. Ravens were trained to fly between fixed locations. Which one flew to Stonetown and which to Casterly Rock? Without a direct trail, there was no way to tell. "Who would do such a thing? Privately keeping ravens without approval from the Citadel or the Iron Throne is a serious crime!"
"Lord Pycelle, surely you jest. Anyone bold enough to inform the Lannisters wouldn't care whether it was illegal."
"That's enough." Eddard interrupted the two ministers, his tone laced with sarcasm. He had no proof that either Varys or Pycelle served the Lannisters, but both had weathered two dynasties. Who could truly say which side they served or whose men they were? "I'm already prepared for this kind of news from you, Grand Maester. So then, Lord Varys, what else do you have to report?"
"The purge of Lannister loyalists in the city and the investigation into Janos Slynt, former commander of the City Watch, have been completed. The results are here, in this report... Also, I must remind you, my lord—if the queen truly lay with her brother, you must consider carefully what to do with the prince and princess whose true parentage is in doubt. Your lordship is merciful, and would not shed blood... but if those three children were to fall into the hands of someone with darker intentions, they could bring endless bloodshed to the realm."
Eddard had already pondered the question Varys now raised. When Jaime and Cersei fled, they had left their three children behind. Was that because they believed he wouldn't harm them? He couldn't say. But he couldn't help wondering—was he really so easy to read?
Bloodshed was unthinkable, but if left unchecked... how would Stannis Baratheon, now the heir apparent, view these three threats?
After weighing everything, Eddard arrived at one answer—take the three children north and place them under his protection. That would not only ensure their safety but also prevent others from using them. The only downside was how the people of the North would view these supposed bastards born of incest.
A stain on their name? Eddard thought of his own "bastard" son, Jon Snow, and sneered inwardly. If a man holds fast to honor and integrity, what stain can truly mar him?
"I have my own plans for the children. You need not worry," Eddard said, his tone final. "Grand Maester Pycelle, send word to Lord Tywin. Order him to deliver Jaime and Cersei to King's Landing at once to stand trial. He must also come himself to explain their crimes. If he fails to do so within ten days, he shall be guilty of treason, and the Iron Throne will rise against him with all its might."
Pycelle opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. "Yes... my lord."
"Out of the way!" came a young girl's voice from outside. The guards tried to stop Arya, but failed. She pushed the door open and stormed in, ignoring the two officials in the room. "Father, when are you going to release my master? I've said it over and over, Tyrion isn't a bad person, and my master didn't help the Lannisters rebel!"
Eddard ignored her and said, "Lord Varys, anything else you wish to report?"
Varys gave Arya a glance and smiled, shaking his head. "There is much, but most of it comes from Lord Renly. You need only read the documents I submitted. I'll take my leave now, so as not to disturb you, my lord... or Lady Arya."
Varys stood and departed. Pycelle lingered a moment to confirm the wording of the ultimatum, then also took his leave. Soon, only Eddard and his daughter remained in the room.
"It's fine, close the door," Eddard told the guard who had failed to stop Arya. He embraced his daughter, patting her shoulder. "I asked you to visit His Grace each day. Did you go today?"
"The king has Margaery to care for him. Why should I go?" Arya twisted in his arms. "Is she going to be queen soon?"
"Perhaps. That depends on what King Robert decides." Though he said that, Eddard knew full well—now that Cersei and Jaime had fled King's Landing, and with the Iron Throne likely facing a war with the richest house in Westeros while buried in debt, support from the Reach would be essential. At this point, no one could likely stop Margaery Tyrell from becoming queen.
That girl from House Tyrell should have returned to Highgarden days ago, but after Cersei's escape, she had abruptly canceled her journey. Now, she stayed by Robert's side day and night, directing the maids, tending to his wounds, and serving his meals. She had already begun acting as if she were mistress of Maegor's Holdfast.
"You're changing the subject again. All you adults are like this!" Arya snapped, suddenly remembering why she had burst in. "When are you going to release my master?"
"I told you, he's under suspicion of aiding Tyrion Lannister. He's a prisoner. How can I release him without a trial?"
"He's been wrongly accused!" Arya cried, stamping her foot.
"Sansa also says Prince Joffrey is King Robert's trueborn son and rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." Eddard shook his head. "What you children say doesn't count."
"Then try him!" Arya insisted. "Or I'll bother you every day. I'll bring Sansa too!"
"You're so unreasonable, child." Eddard frowned, staring at her. But seeing her determined expression, he reconsidered. The Night's Watchman had already been imprisoned long enough. And at this critical time, with the White Walkers resurfacing and the Night's Watch in dire need of strong support, it would not do to alienate their chief quartermaster.
"Very well, have it your way. We'll try him first. Hail! Take my token to the prison and bring the Night's Watchman here."
"Yes, my lord."
(To be continued.)
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