Chapter 175

Eddard Stark lifted his weary head from the desk.

He was utterly exhausted and in desperate need of sleep, but the Seven Kingdoms needed governance more than he needed rest. The king, who should have been sitting on the Iron Throne, was instead bedridden, nursing his injuries—or rather, lying face down in his chambers, leaving the mess he had caused entirely to the Hand of the King. Not that Eddard expected Robert to shoulder any responsibilities even if he were in perfect health.

Exhaustion was accompanied by a simmering anger.

What had been a seamless plan had been utterly derailed by the king’s reckless meddling. Not only had the original objective failed, but the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself had nearly been lost in the process. Eddard entertained a vivid image of ripping the Hand’s pin from his chest and hurling it into Robert’s face, leaving him to manage the realm in his own chaotic fashion.

The thought, though fleeting, helped lift some of the fatigue. Leaning back in his chair, Eddard turned to the two officials who had come to see him. “Speak. What news do you bring this time?”

Varys cast a glance at Pycelle, silently signaling for him to begin.

The Grand Maester hesitated, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Lord Eddard, ravens from the lords along the Gold Road in the Reach and Riverlands have brought troubling news. Three days ago, forces from the Westerlands, numbering over a thousand men and divided into multiple groups, invaded their lands, harassing and driving away the search parties you had dispatched. These troops advanced eastward along the Gold Road before retreating back to the Westerlands two days ago. We have reason to believe that the queen and Ser Jaime are now safely under the protection of their father’s forces, likely back in Casterly Rock.”

“No battles were fought?” Eddard asked sharply. “Did the lords of the Riverlands and the Reach simply stand by and watch Tywin’s men rampage through their lands and spirit away the queen and her brother, who stand accused of adultery and assaulting the king?”

“Please, my lord, temper your anger,” Varys interjected in his soft, honeyed voice, glancing briefly at Pycelle. “The ‘Rains of Castamere’ still echoes in the minds of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Few dare openly oppose Lord Tywin before the Iron Throne formally declares war against him. But rather than fault the lords of the Riverlands and the Reach for their inaction, perhaps the more pressing question is: how did Casterly Rock respond so swiftly, dispatching troops to rescue Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime?”

“Someone must have warned them, Lord Eddard,” Pycelle said with certainty. “The distance from King’s Landing to Casterly Rock is several hundred miles. Judging by the timing, Lord Tywin must have received word of the Red Keep’s turmoil the day after it occurred and sent his forces immediately. Such speed is only possible through the use of ravens. It’s clear that one of the lords in the Riverlands or the Reach, upon receiving your orders, immediately informed Casterly Rock. Unfortunately, we sent dozens of identical orders, making it impossible to determine who it was.”

“Grand Maester Pycelle’s analysis is sound,” Varys said, folding his hands neatly on his lap and smiling. “But there’s another possibility we haven’t considered: what if the informant wasn’t one of the lords who received your orders, but someone right here in King’s Landing?”

“That’s impossible,” Pycelle retorted, his voice rising. “I alone hold the keys to the rookery in King’s Landing. Every raven sent from the Red Keep is released personally by me, and the orders were written by your own hand, Lord Eddard, in my presence. The scribes and stewards can testify to this!”

“Indeed, the messages you sent may have been above reproach,” Varys replied smoothly. “But that doesn’t guarantee the recipients were as trustworthy.”

“Are you accusing me of warning the Lannisters?” Pycelle’s voice trembled with outrage. “Varys, you slander a loyal servant of the realm! As Grand Maester, I would never commit such treason. You’re welcome to inspect the rookery; not a single raven is missing!”

“Grand Maester Pycelle, please, there’s no need for such indignation,” Varys said, his tone as sweet as ever. “I’m sure the rookery is intact, and I never suggested otherwise. But who’s to say that someone in the city, perhaps a private citizen with their own birds, didn’t send word to Lord Tywin?”

“Such individuals would be committing a grave crime,” Pycelle grumbled, glaring at Varys, though he couldn’t tell if the spymaster knew more than he let on. “And who would risk such punishment to aid the Lannisters?”

“Someone unafraid of the consequences, I imagine,” Varys said lightly, his expression unreadable.

“Enough,” Eddard cut in, silencing their back-and-forth with a cold glare. He had no concrete evidence to prove whether Varys or Pycelle were working for the Lannisters, but both men had served through multiple reigns, and their true loyalties remained a mystery. “I was prepared for bad news, Grand Maester. Now, Varys, what do you have to report?”

“The purge of Lannister loyalists within the city and the investigation into former City Watch Commander Janos Slynt have been concluded,” Varys said, handing Eddard a document. “Additionally, I feel compelled to remind you, my lord, that if the queen’s adultery with her brother is confirmed, the question of what to do with the children becomes paramount. You are a merciful man, but if those three Baratheon children fall into the wrong hands, they could plunge the realm into endless turmoil.”

Eddard had already thought of this. When Cersei and Jaime fled, they had left their children behind. Was this because they believed he wouldn’t harm them? He couldn’t be sure but couldn’t help wondering if he was too predictable.

Bloodshed was unacceptable, but leaving them here would undoubtedly anger Stannis Baratheon, now first in line to the throne. After much deliberation, Eddard concluded that the only viable solution was to send the children to the North, where he could protect them while preventing others from using them as pawns. The only flaw in this plan was that the Northern lords might see fostering these likely illegitimate children as a stain on their honor.

A stain on honor? Eddard thought of his “bastard” son, Jon Snow, and allowed himself a faint smile. So long as a man lived honorably, what harm could a blemish do?

“I’ve made my decision regarding the children. You needn’t concern yourselves further,” Eddard said firmly. “Grand Maester, send a raven to Lord Tywin. Demand that he return Cersei and Jaime to King’s Landing to face judgment and punishment and that he personally come to account for their crimes. If he fails to comply within ten days, it will be seen as an admission of treason, and the Iron Throne will marshal the full strength of the realm against him.”

Pycelle opened his mouth as if to protest but thought better of it. “Yes, my lord.”

From outside came the sound of a young girl’s voice. “Let me through!” Arya’s protests could be heard as the guards tried to bar her entry, but she burst into the room regardless. Ignoring the other two men, she stormed up to her father. “When are you going to release my teacher? I’ve told you so many times—Tyrion isn’t a bad person, and my teacher would never betray the realm!”

Eddard ignored her outburst, instead turning back to Varys. “Anything else to report?”

Varys glanced at Arya’s furious expression and gave a polite smile. “There is much to report, though most of it comes from Lord Renly. You’ll find everything in the document I’ve provided. I won’t disturb you further. My lord, Lady Arya.” With that, he bowed and departed.

Pycelle hastily confirmed the details of Eddard’s orders before excusing himself as well, leaving father and daughter alone in the room.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Close the door,” Eddard instructed the guard. He then pulled Arya into his arms, patting her shoulder gently. “Did you visit the king today as I asked?”

“There’s no point. Margaery’s been looking after him all day,” Arya grumbled, squirming in his embrace. “Is she going to be queen soon?”

“Perhaps. That depends on what Robert wants,” Eddard replied, though he knew in his heart that the matter was already decided. With Cersei and Jaime on the run and the Iron Throne preparing for a costly war against the Lannisters, the support of the Reach was indispensable. Nothing could stop Margaery Tyrell from becoming queen now.

The girl had intended to return to Highgarden days ago but had canceled her plans the moment Cersei fled. Since then, she had been ever-present by Robert’s bedside, directing the servants, cleaning his wounds, and tending to his every need. It was as if she had already assumed the role of queen.

“You’re changing the subject! Adults always do this!” Arya protested, her anger rekindling. “When are you going to release my teacher?”

“As I’ve told you, he’s suspected of colluding with Tyrion Lannister. He’s a prisoner and cannot be released without a trial.”

“He’s innocent!” Arya stomped her foot.

“Sansa also insists that her Prince Joffrey is Robert’s trueborn son and the rightful heir to the throne,” Eddard replied coolly. “Your opinions don’t decide such matters.”

“Then at least put him on trial!” Arya demanded. “If you don’t, I’ll bother you every day—and I’ll bring Sansa with me!”

“You’re impossible,” Eddard muttered, frowning at her determined expression. After some thought, he relented. The Night’s Watch officer had been imprisoned long enough, and with the Others stirring beyond the Wall, it would be unwise to alienate the Watch further. “Fine. As you wish. He’ll be tried. Hael! Take my seal to the dungeons and bring the Night’s Watchman here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

...