Chapter 11
Ned was deeply disturbed by the discussion he had with Varys. That the queen had plotted to kill Robert through the melee by forbidding him from participating was the type of vile cunning he had not considered. That Varys would not bring it to the king for fear that he would not be believed and would be left to the mercy of the Lannisters was also disturbing.
This place is sickening.
Varys had as much as said that Ser Hugh was the one who had used the Tears of Lys to murder Jon Arryn. And when he had asked to what end, why kill him after so many years? What had Jon been doing that had riled up the Lannisters? Varys had left with the ominous answer of, ‘asking questions.’
Everyone seemed to be playing some game in King’s Landing and now he had to as well. As loathsome as it was, he knew he needed someone he could trust completely. He wished his wife was here. Or even Maester Luwin. Given Renly’s plotting to replace Cersei, it was time to speak with Sansa and see if she was even willing to aid Margaery.
In the morning he had Sansa join him in his solar.
“I have been asked by the king’s brother to do a favor. It feels wrong, but I would like to discuss it with you.”
Sansa nodded. “Lord Renly, I presume? What is the favor?”
Ned felt uneasy. He sighed, attempting to press on.
“He’s asked that you make Margaery Tyrell feel welcome when she comes to King’s Landing. She’s three years your senior and Renly has asked that you teach her the type of poetry you’ve read to the king.”
“And?” Sansa prodded. “Father, please don’t look startled. You would not be acting like this if that was all.”
She would be better at this than I am.
“This must be kept quiet; no one must learn of it. Renly seeks to have Cersei replaced with Margaery.”
His daughter’s eyes widened.
“That… is dangerous. Robert is the head of a new dynasty, no matter what claims of Targaryen blood he may also have. To muddy the waters in such a way and make the Lannisters the eternal enemy of the Tyrells and the Baratheons is bold. Did Lord Renly say why?”
“He has little love for the Lannisters and is great friends with the Tyrells.”
“So, no reason or cause to set aside the queen other than she now displeases our king?”
Ned must have looked uncomfortable. “None that Renly knows of, at least.”
Sansa looked at him for a long time, letting the silence stretch.
“Father, if you command it, I will of course provide every aid and courtesy to Margaery. But I would feel better if you give me more details about what is going on at court. Especially if I’m to be interacting with the lady who may be our future queen.”
What am I doing? She should not be burdened with this. But I have already spoken of the plot with Margaery. In for a copper…
He took a steadying breath. “I believe Jon Arryn was murdered by the Lannisters.”
Ned wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe a shocked expression or a gasp of incredulity. Instead she just calmly nodded.
“Is there proof?”
“I am working on that.”
“What is the cause of your suspicion?”
“A person I trust shared this with me in confidence.”
Sansa leaned back. “There are two types of false information. One given knowingly, where this person you trust lied to you. Or, perhaps the person is telling you the truth as they see it, and they are mistaken. What evidence did they provide?”
Ned shook his head with frustration. “Nothing, just their word.”
“I still need more information, but it sounds as if you would consent to this dangerous ploy to cut out the Lannisters from power within the royal line because you suspect they have murdered the prior Hand. Was Jon in on the plan? Could he and Lord Renly have conspired together?”
Ned shook his head. “I doubt it. And it was Stannis who spent time with Jon, not Renly. I’m not sure why, but those two visited one of Robert’s bastards shortly before Jon’s death.”
Sansa looked down at the table, thinking intently.
“That could be it.” Sansa looked up at him with a small smile. “Did Robert’s bastard look like him?”
Ned nodded.
“Black hair?”
“Yes, what of it?” Ned wasn’t sure where his daughter was going with this.
“If the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn, it may be because he was looking for a reason to set Cersei aside. The tome you had me read through was quite dull, but what it did do was provide descriptions of various unions. Black hair tends to overpower light colors, though not always. In particular, Baratheon almost always wins out when paired with lighter hues. Jon may have been attempting to gather evidence to convince Robert that his children may not be his. I admit, the odds of three blond children seems unlikely, but it isn’t as improbable due to lighter… let’s call it a lighter trait lingering in his line. But Robert does not strike me as an overly learned man, so this conspiracy to replace Cersei probably counted on his ignorance there.”
Ned was trying to follow. He was used to his daughter speaking of concepts she had found in the books she loved so much, but some of the words were going past him.
“So… the book implies that Joffrey, along with Tommen and Myrcella may have been bastards due to hair color? Because Baratheon dark hair typically wins out against blonds like the Lannisters?” He frowned. “But you are saying that it does not prove it because of Robert’s lineage.”
Sansa gave a sharp jerk of her head. “Baratheon black tends to dominate over lighter shades. However, Laenor Velaryon and his sister were the children of Rhaenys Targaryen and their hair was silver-gold and silver-white respectively, while hers was black from her ancestry mixed with the Baratheon line. Lurking within the… well, let’s call it legacy, or seed, if we must, of Robert Baratheon lay the Targaryen lighter colors. It is why sometimes two parents who have the same hue of hair give birth to a child with completely different hair. The more instances of lighter hair in the family line, the more likely such a result could come to pass. It is still rare for Robert and Cersei to have birthed three blond children, but not unheard of. If Jon was looking for a reason to justify Cersei being dismissed, it seems like that would be evidence that might even convince Robert.”
Ned was beginning to feel a headache come on. Were Tommen and Myrcella Robert’s children in truth, or not?
“Then the book is useless. Line theft cannot be proven by it.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Jon may have truly believed they were bastards. Or Jon had not yet settled it in his mind. Or Jon may have not cared and was desperate to remove the queen from power, and potentially sideline the debt owed to the Lannisters. The debt is a yoke around the realm and if what you say of Jon being a far-thinking man is true, this might have been the way to resolve it.” She shrugged. “Even if Jon’s intentions were ignoble, if he was murdered, that is still treason.” She paused. “Or, there may have been other signs of infidelity from the queen Jon was investigating. I would speak to Stannis and find out what he knows. But is such an infidelity even likely? It would have to have been done underneath Robert and Ser Barristan Selmy’s nose, and the risk would be irrational to take.”
Ned had been given much to think about from his daughter. He would send a raven to Stannis, but until then, what else would be appropriate to do. If the queen had given Robert horns…
Gods… if the accusation is made and he believes it, he will have Cersei, Tommen, and Myrcella’s head on spikes. And if they are his children he will be a kinslayer. No man is more accursed.
He also wasn’t fully sure he should trust his daughter’s knowledge. Essos was in some ways more advanced than Westeros. All knew of the wonders like the Myrish lens tube, but that did not mean they fully understood more than Westeros on the traits of babes when born. That Sansa was well-read was a useful asset, but it was still guesswork borrowed from others’ knowledge.
“Father, another thing you may want to consider. I told you about the queen asking me to share your burdens with her. What exactly would you like me to tell her about Margaery? With how the Red Keep functions, and much of the serving staff possibly being informants for others, she will most likely know soon regardless. It may be useful for me to continue to appear as a source of useful information to her.”
Ned shut his eyes at the thought of the dangerous game he was playing with his daughter. Every instinct and honorable notion he had ever held warred against playing this sort of game.
“I would not risk you in that manner.”
She tilted her head. “Risk? Ironically, by proving myself loyal and potentially pliable, it lessens my personal risk even in the worst case scenario. I might also be able to glean more about her habits if I spend some time with her. Information is a two-way street, how she reacts to certain comments could be useful.”
He felt soiled, but as was often the case when speaking with Sansa, her position was grounded in unimpeachable logic.
“Be careful, Sansa. The queen has many more years of experience playing these games of the south than you do. I trust you. Do not share that she is there to replace Cersei, but do tell her that you have been asked to teach her the poetry Robert likes.”
What was being done was dangerous, for Sansa, for Margaery, and for the realm. He hoped Stannis could resolve this knot of confusion and uncertainty.
***
Tyrion was pleased with his winnings at the tournament, even if Sansa’s own scandalous betting had shocked him. The only reason he had agreed was out of fear the girl would find someone else. She had enough troubles. It wasn’t as if women couldn’t gamble, his sweet sister certainly did, but doing so at such an early age with her father’s coin would be looked upon askance.
Knowing the honorable Lord Stark, he wouldn’t approve, and I have no wish to make her days any harder than they need be.
Tyrion did like the fact she recognized how good his brother was. Jaime had been in high spirits after winning the tourney. Their sister was normally pleased as well when Jaime did well, but she had seemed upset about other things. And now as he walked into the room, they both looked grim as if someone else had died.
A jest about someone else dying was quashed before it could form on his lips as he considered it may be too soon since Joffrey’s death.
“Ill news?”
Cersei stared venom at him, which meant it was just another day that the sun rose.
“The Stark girl just shared the wondrous news that the court will be blessed with another Tyrell offspring,” Jaime said sardonically.
“This isn’t a matter to jest over,” Cersei said harshly. “They are seeking to dangle the whore like a worm on a hook for Robert.”
Tyrion arched an eyebrow. “Is the king displeased with you? Perhaps you should not openly demand that he not do things he wishes to do. You are quite lovely, when you aren’t spewing venom, I’m sure you can do better than some girl half your age.” He smirked. “Less than half.”
Cersei advanced on him and her hand struck his cheek.
Jaime laughed. “Don’t look at me, brother, you deserved that one.”
I probably did.
Cersei stalked back and forth across the sitting chamber.
“Robert loves me not; he will be glad of any excuse. Jaime, what are we going to do?”
Jaime shrugged. “If he tries to set you aside, I’ll kill him.”
Tyrion winced. “Can we not speak of treason so loudly? I have a hard time believing the honorable Lord Stark would consent to putting a maid in the bed of the king in order to break apart your marriage. Father’s reputation looms large and he owes our family a great debt. It would weaken the realm as well. It isn’t as if Robert doesn’t already satisfy his lusts with a dozen women or more every month. Do you really think Margaery is such a paragon of beauty that Robert will prize her above everything?”
Jaime yawned. “So, as usual, you counsel us to do nothing.”
“Fuck the king. That is the queen’s proper work. Be sweet, whisper about his prowess in something or another. Robert is a great oaf of a man, in love with food, wine, and fucking. It should not be hard to make such a man fond of you, Cersei.”
Both his siblings frowned, and he realized that wasn’t going to happen. With a heavy sigh he thought it best to propose something to avoid Cersei doing something more foolish.
“You can start by spreading rumor that the girl is barren due to some childhood sickness. Or, if you are feeling cruel, because she drank too much moon tea. Claim that a maester confirmed it and the Tyrells are desperate to keep it a secret, which is why they have not yet betrothed her. For entertainment during a feast, have a mummer replay the siege of Storm’s End and how Mace Tyrell feasted in front of Robert’s starving brothers.”
Cersei pursed her lips, considering. Jaime gave Tyrion a grateful nod.
“You do have some use, brother,” Cersei admitted. “But Robert barely pays attention to mummers when he’s fondling the serving maid. I will think on it. It also troubles me that I heard of this first from Sansa instead of Varys. He’s even less of a man than you, and he was to keep me informed in all things.”
Tyrion shrugged, ignoring the insult. “The master of whisperers is loyal only to himself. If he told you too soon, perhaps whatever informant he has in Renly and Stark’s employ would be put at risk. ‘Tis good then that Sansa told you of it.”
Cersei nodded her blond head.
“Yes, I think the girl thinks we are bonded over Joffrey, as if her infatuation with him could match a mother’s grief,” she said bitterly. “She is useful, though how much use is questionable. The only reason she even learned of this was because her father asked her to teach Margaery her poems. Lord Stark’s claim of honor is no shield, as he seems to be an eager party to this scheme.”
That did surprise Tyrion. He wondered if perhaps something was not well understood. A sudden chilling thought almost made him shiver.
Is Sansa involved in this game as more than a pawn? The idea of someone like Cersei successfully fooling a mind like hers would be more than passingly queer. And yet, I was once fooled into believing I was loved and married when I was only a little older than she is now. She has lost her betrothed and her status; perhaps Cersei’s attempts at kindness are genuine. Sansa enjoys her time with Myrcella as well. But would that be enough for her to speak her father’s secrets to the queen?
There were other, more disturbing possibilities, but they seemed unimaginable.
“As you say, Cersei. Just… try to be less shrewish with Robert. That may be the best defense against Tyrell schemes. I’ll leave you two to it.”
***
“Robert, I beg of you,” Ned pleaded. “Hear what you are saying. You are talking of murdering a child!”
“THE WHORE IS PREGNANT!”
The king was furious, his dark eyes full of rage.
“I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you’ll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I WANT THEM DEAD!”
Ned could not believe what he was hearing.
“Then you are no better than the brigands who accosted our children,” Ned spat back, sudden fury making him bolder than he should have been.
Robert’s face twisted in a rictus of fury.
“You dare? You… you…” Words would not come, such was the agonized fury choking him.
Renly looked alarmed. “We are all friends here, let us not be hasty with our words. Lord Stark, perhaps you have still grown unused to the stifling heat of the south.”
Ned took a breath as Robert still choked on his words.
“I may have spoken too harshly. Robert has not yet suggested the girl be violated before she is killed, but Robert, you will dishonor yourself forever if you try to murder a girl with child. She has done nothing to you.”
Robert finally mastered his temper. “If you were anyone else, I’d have your head for what you just said.” He took a great breath into his chest and visibly tried to control himself before he continued. “I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it hangs over my neck.”
“There is no axe,” Ned replied forcibly, “only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed, if it exists at all.”
Varys interjected then and explained the source of his information. Ser Jorah Mormont. A man who had sold people into slavery for coin, a man who if Ned had gotten his hands on would have been short a head. He argued back and forth on the reliability of such a man, but it was plain that Robert believed it.
The Mad King’s son and grandchildren had all been slain, but Viserys had been on Dragonstone, where, soon, little Daenerys would be born. They both had escaped to Essos and the whole discussion was wearing on him. The murder of children should never be contemplated. The whole situation was an oddity as Viserys would be the one in line for the throne, not any child of Daenerys.
Varys, Pycelle, and Littlefinger all made their arguments in favor of it. Arguing that if they didn’t take care of the problem now, it would lead to a greater loss of life in the future. Even Renly gave his counsel.
“Lord Stark makes a good argument for why the threat may not materialize. Brother, we should not rage at his counsel, for it is honestly given. And yet, I fear the right choice would be to end the threat to your line swiftly. The Targaryen line should be broken for all time.”
You all sicken me.
Only Ser Barristan sided with him, and that was not enough.
“I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.”
“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.”
Renly looked pained as Robert digested the words in confusion.
Robert pointed an angry finger at Ned.
“You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find a Hand who will.”
“I wish him every success.” Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak. He laid it on the table in front of the king. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we made a nobler king.”
Robert threw his empty wine cup at him and then ranted and demanded that he leave or face his head on a spike. Ned was glad to be out of the stifling chamber. He would need to leave quickly. The mystery of Jon’s death would remain unsolved. Ned knew he had failed the man who had fostered him in the Eyrie, but he could not, would not, affix his name to an order like this. If the lions pulled Robert down, then he would mourn the friend he used to have, not this king he did not know.
Upon his return he made swift preparations with his steward, Vayon Poole, to depart the accursed city. Sansa took one look at his face as he finished his commands and gave him a curious look.
“We are to depart from King’s Landing; I am no longer Hand.”
“What happened?”
He briefly explained Robert’s plan to murder Daenerys and her unborn child, and how he could not countenance that as Hand.
“Father, if we must be away, that is all well and good, but is your primary concern stopping her murder, or is it your perception of honor?”
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“As Hand, you could continue to influence the king. As Hand, you could perhaps select a method unlikely to work. Without formal power, well, your options dwindle. You could attempt to send a message to warn her, but that might be viewed as treasonous.”
It was a heavy thought. What did matter more?
Honor. I have made too many compromises already.
“I cannot be responsible for someone else halfway across the world, but I have a duty to act with honor. I have made my peace with it and have acted the way my father and forefathers would have. My king has made his decision, and if I cannot sway him from it, I will at least not be party to it.”
She nodded. “I’ll begin packing my things.”
As she left, Tomard announced a visitor.
“Lord Baelish to see you, m’lord.”
He didn’t wish to speak with him, but knew he probably should learn what happened at the small council when he left. It would be a good gauge of Robert’s wrath.
Petyr began with his usual unimportant small talk. He finally got around to providing useful information.
“After you stormed out, it was left to me to convince them not to hire the Faceless Man,” he said casually. “Instead, Varys will quietly let it be known that we’ll make a lord of whoever does in the Targaryen girl.”
“So now we grant titles to assassins.”
The small man shrugged. “Titles are cheap. The Faceless Men are expensive. If truth be told, I did the Targaryen girl more good than you will with all your talk of honor. Let some sellsword drunk on visions of lordship try to kill her. Likely he’ll make a botch of it, and afterward the Dothraki will be on their guard.”
Ned shook himself.
Gods be good, it echoes what Sansa said. He was in a position to save the girl through misdirection instead of honest counsel.
“You have my thanks then, Lord Baelish. You did what I could not.”
Now it was Baelish’s turn to raise his eyebrows and smile broadly.
“Ah, you Starks can learn!” He gave a merry bow. “I am happy to have been of service, and now allow me to do one more as well. Your man Jory has been searching for a brothel, one that Lord Stannis and our former Hand had visited. If you ask nicely, I won’t even tell Cat.”
Ned frowned, then sighed. Perhaps one last attempt to learn of the reason for Jon Arryn’s death. He nodded and summoned Jory and a couple of guards. They arrived at a brothel run by a woman named Chataya. The reason Jon and Stannis had visited was the same as the blacksmith: another one of Robert’s bastards. Another one with dark hair.
It doesn’t matter, but at what point do the odds grow too slim.
“Lord Baelish, you have proven to be a friend. You helped guard my wife’s presence in the city, you provided useful paths for me to investigate, and you have helped shield an innocent girl and her unborn babe. Here is where our paths part. I will return to Winterfell. If you should ever find yourself in my lands, you are welcome at my table.”
He meant it too. Ned could never approve of his ways, but he had helped him, and likely saved the Targaryen girl’s life, even if the means bothered him.
“And Lord Arryn’s death left unsolved? Forgive me, Lord Stark, but I am dissatisfied with that. Jon Arryn gave me much, even brought me to King’s Landing. I am the droll fellow who rubs two silver stags together to create a golden dragon, but I can level no accusation toward the Lannisters and keep my head.”
“I now suspect much, and can prove nothing. Robert will no longer listen to me, and I am not even sure I should speak on something I lack certainty for.”
Baelish leaned in. “What do you suspect? Please, if you count me as friend, tell me at least.”
Ned exhaled. “I believe Jon was looking to have Robert set Cersei aside. He was gathering evidence to prove that Cersei’s children may not be his. Whether that was due to Jon believing Cersei gave Robert horns, or if it was just a ploy in this damnable game of thrones, I know not. And as I am no longer Hand, there is nothing I can do about it anyway.”
A strained smile appeared on the man’s face.
“You suspect Tommen and Myrcella are bastards and you will do… nothing?”
“There is no guarantee that they are, and we both well know that Robert has no qualms about murdering children,” Ned replied sharply.
Baelish had a rare uncertain look upon his features.
“Lord Stark, I am at a loss. At least share what evidence you have gathered with the king. The book, the blacksmith’s apprentice, the babe here, the boy at Storm’s End.”
“How did you know about the book?” Ned said with sudden suspicion.
Baelish blinked, hesitated, and then whispered. “Do you think Grand Maester Pycelle did not share every bit of his conversation with you with others? The queen already knows about what you have been doing. As does every other person who pays coin for word of the comings and goings of the Red Keep. I told you this on the first day.”
He did, but he is also pushing hard for me to take action and seemingly had all the pieces already.
It dawned on him.
“You knew and yet you had me run around this city and expose myself and my house, when you already knew.”
“I suspected, but would you have believed me if you had not retraced Lord Arryn’s steps? You had little trust in me when we first met. Understandable,” he said with a smirk, “but if I had just told you outright, you would always wonder if I was just manipulating you.”
He’s dancing. Even now. I must think, but first I must understand his position and ‘lock down’ his view without sly deceptions, veiled words, and half-truths.
“No more games. Tell me exactly what you know and why. What you suspect and what specifically you would have me do.”
Ned watched as the normally quick-tongued Baelish paused to consider his words.
“I know some things and suspect much, Lord Stark. I know the places that Jon Arryn visited. I know what his household spoke of. How Jon had grown obsessed with learning about breeding hunting hounds. How he began tracking down likely bastards of Robert. I also know there is little love between Cersei and the king. If you ask for proof that it was the Lannisters who poisoned Jon, I have none. If you ask for proof it was the Lannisters who attempted to murder your son, I have none.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“As to what you should do? Go to the king with your concerns, but leave my name out of it. You stand on thin ice and I would prefer you do not drag me under. I promised Cat to help you, but I cannot do everything for you. I am not the Hand.”
“And neither am I.”
Ned returned then with his guards back to the Tower of the Hand. No sooner had he arrived than Arya confronted him.
“Father, please, can Syrio come with us?”
“If the man is willing, yes.”
Arya ran up and hugged him, and Ned enjoyed the feeling of managing to make someone happy. That night his rest was for once not troubled, and in the morn, Ser Barristan Selmy and a double company of soldiers awaited to escort Ned and his daughters to the king.