Robert threw the cup against the wall. They all thought he was a fool. They all thought they could play him. Ned should know better. His 'friend' knew how intelligent he was. He had given him proof enough during their youth. Granted, he hadn't always shown much sense over the years. But try to be married to such a conniving adulterous bitch of a Lannister cunt and see if the honourable Ned would not have resorted to drinking and whoring. Ned had this model of a wife who obeyed her husband and stayed faithful.
He eyed the cup that lay in the corner and wondered whether he should pick it up and have another drink.
The only one he could trust these days was Varys. Better wait till after the meeting with the eunuch before he was too drunk to have an intelligent conversation. He needed help and he needed it soon.
Things were getting out of hand and somehow, however implausible, Ned was mixed up in it. He was as good as sure by now. Either of his own volition or forced into it, blackmailed perhaps? How could anyone be so stupid to involve honourable Ned Stark in a foul plot? His friend couldn't lie even if he tried very hard. When Robert had started receiving messages warning him to distrust his Hand, he had burned them at first. But the content had kept nagging him and he had started to drop little hints to put his friend to the test.
Robert was no fool. He had noticed from the start that every time he brought up the subject of the Targaryens living in Essos or rather the only surviving Princess across the Narrow Sea, Ned got antsy. The very moment he dropped something relating to the dragon or rumours or the possibility of a dragonrider, his normally so confident Hand stammered a generic answer and couldn't leave his presence soon enough.
Ned came up with the lamest excuses to leave his presence and left without once looking straight at him. The last time Ned's excuse had been an urgent matter concerning the sewer system. Ha, sewer system. The city lacked a sewer system. Had lacked it a hundred years ago and would not have one a hundred years from now. Ned clearly lied to him. Ned, the honourable Ned lied to him, his King, his friend. Why?
Once upon a time, he and Ned had been as close as brothers. They had done everything together. They understood each other before they even uttered a single word. They had fought side by side to defeat House Targaryen and when Robert took the throne, he had envisioned the both of them ruling the Kingdoms together. But then his honourable friend had taken offense when he had awarded the murders of the Targaryen children and their mother and things had never gone back to normal. Robert knew he had gone too far in Ned's eyes.
He knew he should have found a more discreet solution to get rid of the Targaryens. It couldn't be helped though. It had been too late when they entered the capital and Robert couldn't double back. He had taken a strong stance. The only way a King could act. Besides he had needed Tywin Lannister and things had escalated from there.
And now when he had found the courage to turn his life around, meeting Ned more than halfway in healing the rift between them so his dream of him and Ned ruling together would finally come true, his friend had started acting weird. Outsiders might think they had reconciled and were once more very close friends, but Robert knew better. He was no fool damnit!
Something was wrong. And it had been wrong from the very beginning. Now that he considered it, things had been off from the very first day that Ned had accepted to become his Hand. Why had Ned accepted the position so quickly? He had been blind at the time, too happy that his friend finally came to live with him in the capital to see the signs.
He couldn't blame himself for not noticing earlier though. At first everything had worked out. Ned had gotten him interested in ruling. They had drafted two excellent new decrees that were even praised by the smallfolk in King's Landing. Robert, grateful for his friend's company and support, had cut back on his bad habits. And Ned had noticed that. Robert had seen more than once the approbation in Ned's eyes when Robert stopped the servant from refilling his cup. Things had been going so well.
Robert remembered the hunt they had been on the same day that Petyr Baelish had been convicted as clear as if it had been yesterday. He had seen his old friend reappear before his eyes. But the very next day, Ned had started to avoid him. He should never have left that damned trial. What had happened there?
Now Ned avoided him as much as he could, whether he proposed to tackle a problem together or wanted to go on another pleasure outing just the two of them. He needn't bring up Targaryens or dragons to bait him any longer. Ned was as flighty as a newly born foal. Either Ned was slowly losing his mind or something was wrong.
At first he had thought Ned might be getting strong-armed by someone in the capital, but who and why? And even if that was the case, why would Ned not confide in his King? Why would he not trust in him, the best friend he had ever had?
Then the anonymous messages had started to get under his skin and Robert had started to wonder. Why had Ned never wanted to come to the capital all these years before and all of a sudden accepted to do just that without even the tiniest delay to think things over? Did he have another agenda? Was he just like all the others in this accursed capital?
The messages also made him question why Robert was surrounded by men loyal to House Stark. There were hardly any Baratheon guards left at court. All he saw were direwolf sigils. The Lannisters of course were long gone and all prominent positions on the City Watch were filled with men loyal to Ned Stark. If anyone else had done something of the sort, Robert would have become suspicious at once, but he had trusted Ned, trusted him implicitly. 'Perhaps he was a fool, damnit.'
But what was Ned's goal if he really had nefarious intention? He had a meeting with Varys in a bit and he really needed to hear the Master of Whispers' opinion. At first he had thought that Varys was in league with his Hand somehow but by now he knew better. Varys had betrayed Ned's confidence several times already, coming to the King with things Ned withheld from him. The eunuch was on his side and would help him make sense of it all.
His Master of Whisperrs had something new to say about his Hand and the Northern most Kingdom almost every day. He had given his King reports about the strengthening of the Northern Shores, the hidden fortress in the Neck and the large fleet the North had apparently amassed. Separately all these goings on could be explained away. But as Varys had pointed out, combine all of them and the picture changed dramatically. Something was up in the North, and it all came down to his so-called friend.
The most worrisome had been the rumours about the dragonrider being kin to House Stark. But at least that one he didn't believe. Robert had seen first hand how Ned had blanched when Littlefinger talked about the message he had withheld, that hellish love declaration of Lyanna. Ned had paled visible and had been caught unawares.
Robert was sure Ned had not known that Lyanna had eloped with Prince Rhaegar. Ned was a bad liar and an even worse actor. He hadn't known. You only had to consider the oath Ned swore immediately after the trial. That had been the only time Ned had been able to look him straight in the eye when they talked about dragons or a dragonrider. His friend wasn't that far gone that he would vow on his loved ones and speak a lie. Robert was very sure that Lord Eddard Stark knew nothing about a son of Brandon, trueborn or bastard, who might have a claim to Winterfell. Ned had told the absolute truth about that at least. Robert was very sure about that.
***
Varys adjusted his robes and waited for the King to arrive. He had been summoned to his Grace's new study, a room that hadn't existed until recently. The King had ordered a large desk to be moved to a room close to his sleeping quarters. A beautifully carved cabinet lined the wall close to the desk. Varys knew the King used it to store messages he kept from his Hand. His plan was working. The King was starting to distrust Lord Stark. He wondered why he was summoned so secretively by King Robert this time. The last time he had been tasked to keep the Hand of the King busy with trivial matters and away from Keep, had been so the King could meet with his scouts privately. Varys of course, as his Master of Whispers had been allowed to be present.
He startled when the door opened rather abruptly and the King entered with big strides. He watched how Robert Baratheon circled the desk swiftly and sat down without further ado. Varys bowed deeply and waited to be seated until King Robert gave his permission.
"Lord Varys, please take seat. I have a few things I would like to discuss with you. But before we start, I must ask to keep everything that will be discussed here today a secret." The King seemed very eager to start their meeting.
"That is the very definition of my position, your Grace." Varys bowed his head once more and took the seat facing the desk. "I am the keeper of secrets and I serve at your pleasure."
"Well before we start I must ask you something. Aside from all you told me that is happening in the North, do you think Lord Stark is doing a good job as my Hand? I must admit, I didn't pay that much attention to the running of things when Jon Arryn held the position, but now with Lord Stark here, I have been more involved and in my opinion it appears that he is handling things well."
"I already told you, your Grace that we were all pleasantly surprised when you came back with two very reasonable laws that have been accepted well at court and amongst the smallfolk. You know we, I mean the small council of course, had our doubts when you decided to appoint Lord Stark as Hand of the King. Our argument that he had no knowledge of southern politics has been proved wrong on several occasions. He can be cunning and smart when it is needed and puts his honourable reputation to good use to strong-arm his opponents into doing the right thing. But," Varys hesitated.
"But?" The King encouraged him to speak up. "This is just between the two of us. Just speak your mind, Lord Varys. I promise I won't take offense. The worst I can do is attempt to persuade you that you have it wrong."
Varys bowed his head in apparent reverence. "I fear he was used to running the North without opposition and he is applying this to the Seven Kingdoms even if he needs different tactics here to be in absolute control. Everywhere I look men of the North are in charge. If anyone really stands up to Lord Stark, will that person get a fair chance to state his case? What if you stood up to him, your Grace? Are you ruling the Seven Kingdoms? Who is making the decisions?"
"Normally I would say that making decisions is exactly what a Hand of the King should do. But perhaps we need to put Lord Stark to the test. What is he working on now?"
"I have been helping him to draw up the list with possible brides, your Grace. But for some reason he is stalling."
The King rolled his eyes. "As if I hadn't noticed that. Any idea why he is delaying?"
"Well, I can only state what I think. Although I am almost certain I have it right. My guess is that he really wants Lady Margaery to be your choice of bride but hesitates to put her at the top of the list so he is not too obvious. Then there is the issue with House Frey. He refuses to put any Freys on the list." Varys was studying the King like a hawk to gauge the effect of his words.
"I know of House Tyrell's ambitions and am considering Lady Margaery as a serious candidate. I cannot for the life of me see a reason why he would be ambiguous about that. And what about House Frey?" The King was getting impatient with the circumspect ways of the eunuch.
"You see, Walder Frey has too many daughters and granddaughters that have already flowered and are in need of husbands. Believe it or not, I have it on good authority that some of them are rather comely. I have heard tell that a certain lady Roslin Frey is only a year or so older than the lady Margaery and rivals her in beauty. The only thing lady Roslin is lacking is the sharp tongue that lady Margaery possesses."
Varys made a face at the King that spoke volumes. "Lady Olenna apparently has been schooling her granddaughter in her own image. I have heard whispers here at court, some even with my own ears. People are talking that there is a young Queen of Thorns in the making and are already feeling sorry for you. They fear you might marry yet another shrew."
The King snorted losing the little decorum he had. He motioned Varys to continue.
"I have digressed, your Grace. Accept my apologies. You asked about the offer of House Frey. It is rather generous, if I am allowed to say so, your Grace. They offer you any bride, any Frey maiden of your own choosing and will give you her weight in gold as a dowry, including free passage through the Riverlands for anyone travelling with you or at your behest."
The King studied his Master of Whispers closely. The eunuch kept his face as blank as if he was reciting the latest crop reports. 'Is that what losing your manhood did to a man?'
"That is very generous. A comely Frey you say? Does such a thing really exist? Where do you get that information, Lord Varys? How reliable is it really?" His voice betrayed his interest but he didn't care. ' It is absolutely normal to be interested in a comely young wife with a big dowry. I am still a man with a fully functioning manhood, thank the Seven Heavens!'
"I get it from more than ten sources that are totally independent from each other. But you need not take my word for it. Lord Frey is willing to let you get acquainted with his most eligible daughters and granddaughters. You will only need to commit after seeing them and learning a bit about their characters and dispositions. If he lets you uh interact with one and you end up not choosing her, he only asks that you procure the unfortunate lady a noble husband." An impassive Varys explained.
"That can easily be done. Why is Lord Stark hesitating then?" Robert frowned thinking his friend was really not impartial in this matter. Varys's next words proved this to be true.
"House Frey has been in open conflict with House Tully as you well know, your Grace. Lord Stark is putting the interest of his good family before the interest of his King, before the interest of the realm. I am sure he has the noblest intentions and it shows in the fact that he struggles with completing the list. I must warn you though that I have seen him act this way a few times already. Lord Stark is first and foremost a wolf of the North who protects his pack. He considers his wife's family as part of his pack."
"Damnit, Ned!" The King cursed out loud this time. "Are you sure though? He knows I am still troubled by the role House Frey played in Littlefinger's schemes. Can that not be why Lord Stark hesitates? He paused and stared out the window to consider his options.
Seeing Lord Varys on the brink of breaking the silence from the corner of his eyes, he faced him again and gave his Master of Whispers permission to speak. "What is your opinion, Lord Varys? How do you propose I should act?"
"Why do you not search for a bride yourself, your Grace? Why let your Hand handle this? It is a personal matter as well, not only a political one. Think of the things you could do with all that gold if you accepted it personally. Let me draft a letter to Walder Frey stating you will contact him as soon as your annulment has been granted. I can alter the terms of his proposal slightly so you cannot be blackmailed by the old conniver."
He cleared his throat before elaborating. "We all know Walder Frey's reputation. Let's tell him you will keep all options open. In the event that you should end up marrying a noble lady of another house, promise him that you will see to it personally that two of his female dependents will find a noble husband. You can add the incentive that your Grace will attend their wedding personally." Varys' tone was no longer neutral, for once his voice had taken on a more persuasive character.
The Kings face brightened. "Excellent, Lord Varys. That will certainly soothe the old weasel. You have my permission to contact him immediately. Now why do you think the annulment is taking this much time?"
"It has not taken much time in terms of the Citadel and the way Septons and Archmaesters handle things. You can't hurry a Septon and putting pressure on the Citadel will only result in the Archmaesters delaying things on purpose. Let's wait another two moons before taking formal action. In the meantime I will use my influence subtly. I have a contact at the Citadel who might be able to help. Leave it to me, your Grace. Just be patient. What are a few more moons for a man who still has more than thirty years to sire children? Perhaps even fifty if you look at Walder Frey's achievements." Varys now used his most earnest yet subservient expression.
The King waved with his hand to indicate the matter was closed for now. "What about the other assignments I gave you? Have your spies found out more about the Northern Fleet? Is it true that there has been a clash with the Ironborn?"
"There has indeed been a minor altercation at the Stony Shore, but as often is the way of the simple folk, they have embellished the story to have something to enjoy around their campfires at night. Life is dreary that far north, your Grace. As to the other matter, the North has developed a rather large fleet at White Harbour. It has been used to increase trade with Pentos. You know the North cannot provide enough food to see to their needs come winter. I heard they tried to establish trade relations with the Reach first but I gather that lady Olenna for some reason is not cooperating." Varys once more kept his voice matter of fact and his expression blank.
"So all the ships that are reported passing the Fingers are heading for Pentos?" The King frowned disbelievingly.
"I would think so." Varys made a show of acting a bit shocked. "Your Grace, surely you are not accusing the North of trying to occupy King's Landing? In the unlikely event that House Stark was capable of turning against their King, the only plausible move for the North would be to close itself off from the Seven Kingdoms and declare their independence." He paused to emphasize his words before continuing.
"I realise that the Starks of old have been Kings of Winter and there were several natural born leaders and ambitious men amongst them, but Lord Eddard Stark is not one of them. I know I am not his greatest advocate, but that is precisely why. Your Hand is too honourable, has hardly any ambition and is too rigid to make a good ruler. Besides, I pride myself that I can detect power hungry men. Eddard Stark does not covet your throne for himself. I am willing to sacrifice my right hand if I am wrong."
The King's frown didn't leave his face. If anything, it got more pronounced. "I am not that sure, Varys. You said it yourself before, here at the capital, his armed forces outnumber us. Their leaders are loyal to him first, only second to their King. The possibility of a Northern Fleet so close to King's Landing worries me."
"Your Grace, let me work on that. I will try to get more Baratheon men at court and in the city. I will contact some of your bannerman in the Crownlands and find some pretext to lure them here without alerting anyone, certainly not Lord Stark, to the real reason for their presence."
"A tournament!" The King exclaimed, all concerns momentarily forgotten in his enthusiasm for this new idea. "Let's hold a tournament."
"That could be one solution though a rather costly one. Let me look into it. We will have to involve your Hand in the organisation of such a big event." Varys cautioned.
"I don't care. Let us hold a tournament no matter the reason. It has been too long. And make sure that nobles from everywhere attend and let them bring their daughters. But more importantly see to it that my brother attends as well. Stannis never bothers to write me. Renly for all his frivolous ways at least sent regular report to me. Now I know nothing about the state of my Keep nor my bastard."
Robert still regarded Storm's End as his. He also couldn't help feeling some affinity for Edric Storm. Even if the boy was a bastard, his bastard, the child's mother had been a fine woman. The King's gaze had wandered away from Varys and he found himself staring out of the window not really seeing anything but thinking of the beautiful blue eyes of Lady Delena Florent. It had been a short affair but because of the boy, he had never forgotten about her as he had so easily forgotten about the countless ladies of high birth he had seduced in his wilder years. Those had been some of his best years. How could he have known that he wouldn't enjoy begin King of all of Westeros half as much asthe excitement of chasing after a beautiful maiden or a more experienced woman for that matter.
He rubbed his forehead and forced himself to concentrate on their discussion. Turning his eyes back on Varys who was waiting patiently for his King, the very picture of a most devoted subject, he asked. "Have you finally heard back from the scouts we sent to Storm's End?"
"I am afraid not, your Grace. We have sent several on separate occasions. None have returned and I fear the worst. I suspect the rumours are true and your brother has a red priestess with him who is something akin to a greenseer. I can't think of another explanation. We have send scouts, little birds and even a noble Lord and another red Priest. Nobody has reported back. It is a very strange situation."
"Then I will formally order Stannis to the capital. Even my brother is not allowed to refuse a royal command. If he doesn't obey …"
"You can't threaten to disinherit him, your Grace, forgive me for interrupting. Not unless you want to reinstate Prince Renly. For the moment you are out of options. He is your only viable heir for now." Varys explained patiently.
"Damnit!" The King once more forgot his manners and cursed. "I forgot about the consequences of that unfortunate business. That reminds me, the Tyrell boy is still under the supervision of House Stark. I really need to know what is up with Lord Stark. I need to know whether I can trust him or not. Is he just being naive or is he advancing the northern cause using my resources? I need to know sooner rather than later."
"Let me talk to the Lord Hand, your Grace. If that doesn't work, you summon him. Let him know you are the King and air your grievances to his face. If you are not satisfied with his reaction, either dismiss him or curb his authority. Just tell him that from now on, all decisions are to be ratified by your Grace, be it political, economic or financial ones and most important of all make it clear that the choice of a new Queen is your decision and yours alone. I am leaning towards giving Lord Stark the benefit of the doubt, all matters considered. He might not be the best choice for Hand, but he is an honourable man. He will do what he thinks is just." Varys gave this advice with a straight face.
"Unless he thinks I am not 'just'." The King mumbled between his teeth, he suddenly felt drained of all energy. "Perhaps we better leave it at this, Lord Varys. I need to think on all this some more."
Varys ignored the King's sigh. "As you wish, your Grace. I have my work carved out for me anyway."
"Then get to it, Lord Varys. I will keep Ned busy with organising the tournament." A slightly revived Robert Baratheon ordered. Another hand gesture signaled the end of the interview.
"It will be done as you ordered, your Grace. You can give him that assignment at our next meeting of the small council." Varys bowed low and left the room, pleased with all the little hints and manipulations he had been able to drop into the conversation.
***
Ned's head was aching. He was prone to headaches these last few sennights. He blamed it on the stress and the lack of sleep. Why were things going this slow? Jon should claim the throne and be done with it. Once King of Westeros, he could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against the White Walkers if necessary. He tried to keep his face blank. He would not do to let the nobles see a troubled Hand of the King. They would find a way to take advantage of the smallest weakness he showed.
He answered a nod from the delegation of the Riverlands that had arrived with a few eligible maidens. He saw a representative from House Bracken sitting not far from Lord Blackwood and hoped that Lord Lyman Darry was savvy enough to keep the peace between both Houses.
He focussed his attention on the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall to see if more Targaryen loyalists had arrived. He and Varys were working on getting as much support for Jon within the city walls and lord Darry was one of the most recent arrivals. Things were moving along nicely but each day he spent being the King's Hand was one too many as far as he was concerned.
Tomorrow morning he had a private meeting with the King. Varys had warned him he would need to defend each decision he had made since arriving in the capital. Someone had been poisoning the King against him. He had even given Ned leave to cast suspicion on Varys if he had no other way of convincing the King of his loyalty. He would never resort to that though. Varys' head mightroll if Ned used him to save himself.
He saw Robert was talking to Mace Tyrell and hoped they were not discussing lady Margaery's chances to become Queen in such a public setting. Things had been strained between him and Robert lately. Varys was right. He needed to keep to King's ear for now. His first priority was to help his nephew's cause. 'Keep that in mind when you deal with Robert Baratheon. It will help your conscience.' Had been Varys' exact words. As if Ned didn't repeat a similar mantra in his head several times a day already.
He turned to his left to deliver some empty compliment to a lady from House Waynwood who was partnered with him for the evening. Luckily she was not very talkative and left him in peace most of the time.
"Music!" the King bellowed suddenly as he rose from his chair. Apparently his Grace had finished eating and was in want of entertainment. "Someone fetch a minstrel. Let's bring some liveliness to this Great Hall. I decree that every noble present here tonight dances at least one dance with his table partner."
Ned sighed but raised his cup to toast to his King. The empty seat between the two of them was the ceremonial place for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and was empty at the time. The King sat next to Olenna Tyrell. Ned wondered if the King would follow his own edict and dance with the old shrew. "To your Grace's health!"
The King bowed his head slightly in thanks and reciprocated. "To yours as well, Ned."
"In fact," he addressed the room at large now. "Lord Stark will open proceedings and dance with Lady Waynwood. Only when the minstrel starts the chorus are the others allowed to follow my Hand's excellent example."
The King raised his cup and answered Ned's toast. "To our health!" Robert stopped drinking only when his cup was empty. He put it down with an exaggerated thump and ordered loud enough for everyone to hear. "More wine! Servants, fill everyone's cups! Everyone will toast to our health!"
'Perhaps the rumours were true.' Ned mused as he witnessed the King's exuberant mood.. Varys had told him that the King had fallen in love with a whore freshly arrived in the capital. According to Varys, the girl had been a maiden when she was brought to Robert and that the King was convinced that the young girl had fallen for him and considered him 'her King and master'.
He rose from the table and held his hand out to Lady Waynwood when the minstrel started to play.
He repressed a sigh. 'It would be a long evening.'
***
The next morning in the King's study
"Sit down, Ned. What do you think of my new quarters?" It was indeed the first time Ned had been summoned to this room. When he had passed the Baratheon guard in the hallway, he had realised that this was the room Varys had described to him earlier. A few days ago, Varys had informed him King Robert had a place where he conducted business that he kept a secret from his Hand.
"It looks the part, your Grace." Ned deliberately used the more formal greeting more suitable to the state of their current relationship. He studied Robert closely and noticed that the King looked more relaxed than before. Perhaps he had spent another lovely night. Ned could only dream of female company and if he was honest, he had felt the lack of it keenly these last few sennights and even more now in the presence of a clearly satiated King. He waited for Robert to sit down before he took the chair facing the expensive looking desk.
"It does, doesn't it? I really do look the part of a King who is taking matters in hand, don't I? That is what I wanted to talk about to you today, Ned."
Ned steeled himself. Despite the cordial tone with which these words had been uttered, their meaning was clear. "Do you mean to say you will not need a Hand any longer? Or are you curbing my responsibilities, your Grace?" Ned asked stiffly.
Robert sighed and ran a hand through his beard. "Ned, what happened to us? What happened to our dream of ruling the Seven Kingdoms together?"
"That has always been your dream, uh your Grace. I was quite content in the North." Ned had almost addressed him as Robert. He had uttered that last question sounding so much as his former friend, the friend he had loved like a brother all those years ago. He hadn't expected that side of Robert to appear today. He had prepared himself for an entirely different confrontation after being warned by Varys.
"Then why accept the position?" The King fixed him with an intense stare. Apparently this was the question Robert really wanted the answer to.
"Because my King asked it of me. Because Lord Arryn died and I trusted no one in that position of power so close to you. If I had known of another reliable candidate to help you, I would have tried to steer you in that direction, your Grace." Ned hoped he had stuck the right tone. He feared it was not the case when he saw the King getting all worked up.
"Damnit Ned! Why can't you just tell me the real reason? And why have I become 'your Grace' again in private? Why can't you just tell me what happened at the trial to make you change your attitude so drastically. Is someone strong-arming you?" The King leaned forward, his blue Baratheon eyes piercing his friend's eyes.
Ned knew Robert would not back down this time but made one last desperate attempt anyway. "Robert? To what are you referring? Have I not always served you to the best of my abilities?"
"Stop pretending, Ned. I know you. And even if I didn't, you can't lie for the life of you. At least not to me, someone that has known you since forever. Ever since the trial you cannot keep far enough away from me. You cannot even look at me most of the time. How long has it been since we've been alone in a room together long enough to have a real conversation? And do not dare to give the excuse that you have been busy handling my affairs. I offered you more than once to handle all of them together."
Ned sighed and felt the guilt that festered in his gut intensify. He tried one of his prepared statements. "I thought that was your way of saying I was not doing a good enough job and doubled my efforts to please you, your Grace."
"If I hear one more 'your Grace' out of you, you are dismissed, Ned!" Robert almost shouted now. He deflated a bit and settled himself back in his original position leaning his body against the high backside of his cosy chair. Robert took a deep breath and his voice resumed his normal volume. "I give you one last chance to come clean. I have been far more lenient with you than with anyone else ever, Ned. If you don't tell me the truth today, you can go back and hide once more in your dreary North for all I care. I will find someone else or rule the damn things myself. I have the desk for it now."
When Ned didn't respond immediately, the King softened his voice and tried another approach. His eyes pleaded with his friend when he asked him again.
"What happened, Ned? I still recall you helping me cope with the aftermath of the trial, the shock we both suffered when Littlefinger revealed hmmm. Well no need to repeat that. What I meant to say is that we had such a nice hunt afterwards. We connected again, Ned. For the first time in a long time, I felt that bond again, our brotherly bond that snapped when I ascended the throne."
"It was not one single thing that happened, Robert." Ned finally replied. Robert's sincere tone had struck a chord and he wanted more time to gather his thoughts. Robert was really getting to him. He opted to stay as truthful as possible. "There were my own doubts, for one. I hear the rumours about my alleged incompetence, I am not deaf, Robert. But I must confess that it was the mention of the alleged dragonrider that rattled me and made me question everything again. The possible existence of another Targaryen reminded me of what happened to Prince Rhaegar's children."
His eyes briefly met Robert's before looking back to his hands that he tried to keep still in his lap. "You know now that Prince Rhaegar did not offend our houses in the way we thought. He did not rape my sister. For all we know Lyanna, it might have been all her doing. She might have fancied herself in love and seduced the Prince. He did the honourable thing and married her, Robert. Lysa revealed it all. He married her in a Godswood which is really significant for us Northerners. Even though a Septon was present to make it official in the eyes of the Seven, Prince Rhaegar loved her enough to indulge her wishes." Ned swallowed thickly at the reminder.
"After the trial, Lysa swore to me that the letter contained Lyanna's description of how the Prince loved her very much and how he did everything to protect her and make her happy. She probably died because she was alone, unhappy and widowed in a strange place. I know she died of illness but perhaps she would have fought harder if Prince Rhaegar had still been alive."
Ned coughed a few times to find his voice again which had grown hoarser with every word he uttered. He sat back up again and looked into Robert's eyes that had darkened. "I do not blame you for his death. Do not mistake me. That is what happens in a war. But mention of a dragonrider reminded me of the deaths of the Prince's wife and his small children. They didn't deserve that. And now if there really was a young dragonrider, someone with Valyrian or even Targaryen blood, I am scared of what you might do to him or her. I am scared that history will repeat itself." Ned looked back down no longer able to face Robert's conflicted expression.
A long silence ensued. Then Robert spoke in a very calm manner but his voice sounded ominous. "I would have every right to harm that dragonrider if he threatened my throne, my Kingdoms."
"Would you have that right?" Ned challenged him, his tone very grave. He looked up and sat a bit straighter. "Hypothetically speaking, suppose Targaryen loyalists had been able to switch baby Aegon, when they feared the city would fall, would you have been able to tell the difference after the Mountain was done with mutilating the baby? Just suppose that the baby Prince was smuggled out of King's Landing. That small child would be an adult by now. Imagine for a moment that he is the dragonrider. Is your claim really superior to Prince Rhaegar's trueborn son, keeping in mind that the Prince didn't commit the crimes he was accused of?"
Ned looked up briefly up, but averted his eyes when he saw Robert's somewhat ill-disposed expression. He summoned his courage and did continue his line of reasoning. "If all that were true, would the honourable thing not be to give up your throne to that young Prince? Is it still right to call Prince Rhaegar's children dragonspawn? It was the Mad King we wanted to depose in the first place. Not Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we were willing to help him claim the throne. What would you do, Robert? Still hypothetically speaking, of course. Can you put my mind at rest and reassure me that history won't repeat itself and that I would not have to estrange myself from my best friend once more?"
Another long silence fell over the room. Both men avoided looking at one another, each deep in their own thoughts.
"You raise a difficult question, Ned." Robert finally replied. "To be honest, I do not know what I would do. But luckily that possibility you just described, me having to abdicate in favour of Prince Rhaegar's trueborn son will never present itself. You see, little baby Aegon had a birth mark on his left foot. I checked, Ned. I am no fool." Not a sliver of guilt or doubt was present in the King's demeanour when he uttered these words.
Ned tried to hide how displeased he was with Robert's answer. He was still mulling over the right response without revealing too much when the King spoke up again.
"Now it is your turn to be truthful. Are you in any way threatening my throne? Do you want more power? Or do you want to become King in the North again like your ancestors before the Targaryens united the Seven Kingdoms?" Robert spoke these accusations with an unyielding expression in his eyes. He had put both hands on his desk and was leaning forward to further intimidate his friend.
Ned did his best to look insulted. "If you really believe such a thing to be possible, I will resign this instant. I do not want more power. I have enough headaches as it is. I do not want the North to become independent. We need the other Kingdoms' resources come winter and Northern independence would only be good for my people if the North still entertained amicable relations with the other Kingdoms. As for threatening your rule, I would only ask you to step down if you became an unjust King harming his subjects on purpose or if someone showed up that had a rightful claim to the throne, a claim superior to yours."
Ned stood up, ready to leave. "If that is all, your Grace." He emphasized his last two words.
Robert rose from his chair. "Sit back down, Ned! You are not dismissed yet! You will not leave this room until we have either learned to live and work together again, or until we have both reached the mutual decision that it is better to part ways. But even if we decide the latter, you will still take up your mantle of Warden of the North again and help your old friend with keeping the peace in that part of his Kingdoms."
Robert sat back down and took a few deep breaths. When he was a bit calmer, he tried to appeal to his friend's common sense. "We are no longer snot-nosed little brats. We are two intelligent adults who once upon a time were closer than brothers. There must be a way to rekindle that relationship. It is my dearest wish."
"It is my wish as well, Robert." Ned reluctantly took his seat in front of the desk again. "Unfortunately, things are not that simple as they were when we lived at the Vale where our biggest issue was avoiding the wrath of Lord Arryn." A small smile fluttered over his face at the memory. "I am who I am, Robert. I am true to my word or try to be as best I can. I can only respect you as my King if you do not harm the people unjustly and if your claim to the throne is legitimate."
Ned studied his friend and attempted to hide once more how troubled he was, how conflicted. He tried to repeat his mantra in his head. But it was not easy with Robert sitting in front of him like that to recall that he could only serve one King and that that was Jon. He almost startled when Robert responded to his last words.
"Let us compromise then. I will reserve the right to defend myself against pretenders, dragonriders or anyone else that threatens my throne and my people without a rightful claim. If ever Targaryens show up in Westeros, I will not have them murdered just because they carry the name of their house. I will arrest them and we will find a suitable way to deal with them together. History will not repeat itself!"
He stressed that last sentence by raising his voice a bit. He then went on in a normal volume but his determination was apparent by the emphasis he put on his next words. "I will not tolerate pretenders though and I will not entertain the thought of marrying the Princess Daenerys in case you might get that idea in that stubborn honourable head of yours. I cannot erase years of hatred against House Targaryen just like that. It might be the rational thing to do knowing all that we know now but I am human after all. To repeat your own words 'I am who I am' , Ned."
"Fair enough. Where do we go from here, Robert?" Ned asked resigned to the fact that this was as good a promise as he would get today.
Ned and Robert gazed at each other, earnest blue eyes meeting questioning grey ones. "We rule together, you as Hand, I as King. I can overrule you but as promised before, death sentences will only be carried out if we both agree on them. That is a very significant concession that I grant you Ned. I make it to my friend, not to my Hand. Do you accept?"
This time Ned didn't hesitate. "I accept, Robert. Let us start again and let matters progress naturally. I have the best interest of the Seven Kingdoms in mind."
"Then the matter is settled." Robert looked closely at his friend's honourable face.
"As a friend Ned, let me give you some advice. First of all be wary around some of our advisers. Not all of them have your best interests at heart. And second, you should loosen up somewhat. Enjoy the bit of spare time you have. I am feeling much better lately, much more relaxed and as a consequence I see matters more clearly. A bit of female company might help you there."
Robert held up his hand to stall his friend from protesting. "I didn't mean it that way, there are other ways to enjoy female company. But then again, why not ask Lady Catelyn to come to King's Landing. Total abstinence is not healthy, Ned. We are still full blooded males in the prime of our life, aren't we? Your right hand might get injured if you use it too frequently. It is more rewarding if a soft female hand, or a warm mouth handles that appendage, you must know that by now." Robert made an internal bet that Ned would make a beeline for the door now and he was right.
"On that note it is time I retired, Robert, or do you have some business of state we need to discuss before the small council meeting that is scheduled for tomorrow?" Ned was halfway to the door when Robert answered.
"Well, perhaps I should forewarn you that I intend to give you a big assignment during the course of that meeting." Robert taunted his friend with a twinkle in his eyes. "A tournament Ned! You must organise the greatest tournament King's Landing has seen in many years."
***
Ned went to his room, mentally exhausted after the talk with Robert. He had tried to stay true to Jon's cause, but what a fine line had he been forced to walk. He cursed the circumstances that made it necessary that he was the one destined to play this duplicitous part. He needed to visit to the Godswood. He needed to ease his conscience at least a little bit. Why could the Gods not give them a clear timeline? It would make things more bearable if he knew when exactly he would be released from this burden.
If his nephew ever asked him to become Hand of the King he would refuse. He had enough of southern politics to last him a lifetime. Even if he grew as old as Maester Aemon or Walder Frey, he would never be put in such a position again if he could help it. He was ready to return to his beloved North.
He would give almost anything to be back at Winterfell, see his children that he missed more every day and bed his wife whose body he craved. Robert was right. It was difficult sleeping alone night after night and he frequently used his right hand and imagined his bed in Winterfell and the warm naked body of his wife when she was in one of her passionate moods. Gods, it really would help him if he knew how long it still was before he could return. Perhaps Catelyn could come to King's Landing if they found someone suitable to care for the children in the meanwhile?"
He would visit the Godswood or what passed for one here in King's Landing and then hopefully he would feel better and start a long letter to send home. Not a message but a long letter with separate scrolls for each of his children and he would send them together with some small gifts on one of his own ships. With all the goings on here in King's Landing and with Jon's looming presence on Dragonstone, he had neglected his loved ones at Winterfell and Bran at Greywater Watch.
A knock on his door startled him. "Enter," he called out, the dismay at being disturbed clearly recognisable in his voice. He was too tired to face whatever the person at the other side of the door wanted from him.
"An urgent message from Winterfell, my Lord." Jory Cassel didn't offer an apology for his obvious unwelcome interruption.
"Just look at the seal, my Lord. I think you will want to read it straight away."
Ned sighed and opened the message written in his brother's hand after checking the seal. He paled and kept staring at the scroll his eyes widening in horror.
Everyone okay at Winterfell?" Jory had witnessed Lord Stark's reactions with growing concern.
"Jory, fetch our own raven keeper. I need to send an urgent message to Dragonstone."
"On it, my Lord." He headed for the door but turned to look at his liege Lord in the doorway, a silent plea for information in his loyal eyes.
"It is Robb. My son has been taken hostage by the Boltons." Lord Stark answered the unspoken question. "Hurry!"
Interlude 24: A puzzle
Tyrion entered the small room where they now broke their fast every morning. It was one of the first things he had changed when they tried to live a life as normal as possible at Casterly Rock. The room had a window in the east wall and most mornings the sun shone right upon the table where Tommen and Myrcella broke their fast in his company. He had always hated the pompous state room where his father had insisted they take every meal, even the informal morning meals.
His niece and nephew had adapted to their new lives seamlessly as children are often wont to do. Even though it was perhaps no longer right to call them children. Myrcella had recently celebrated her sixteenth nameday, Tommen was only four years her junior.
They looked happy enough. Little did they know they were on house arrest. The Maester who supervised the teachers he had hired for them gave Tyrion excellent reports and he had not witnessed a major quarrel between the siblings. They got along nicely and kept each other company even though they had different interests.
Myrcella would sit in a corner when Tommen got his sword training lessons, either reading some book or embroidering a piece of cloth. Her brother partnered her when she insisted on more dancing lessons even though Tyrion knew Tommen hated dancing. He accompanied her to the small market inside the castle walls and they often went riding or hiking together. If Myrcella sometimes complained to her uncle that she got another blister, she still indulged Tommen the next time he asked her to go on another hike.
It was not much of a burden to be responsible for them. He only needed to see to it that they did not venture beyond the borders of the lands belonging directly to the castle. They were the most lovable children he had ever known. And he was sure that they would still be when they got used to living at the Rock and no longer clang to each other's company for dear life.
He loved hearing them make plans every morning. It made him feel less guilty for acceding to Lord Stark's demands so readily. Seeing his niece and nephew interact made it all worthwhile. He would see to it that they still had a future no matter the cost to his honour or to the family name. His father would turn around in his grave if he knew Tyrion valued happiness higher than his assembled power and the Lannister reputation.
Tyrion mentally shook his head. Either his father wasn't dead yet or if he was he didn't have a grave worthy of the name. So turning around in his grave was probably too much to ask of the man that sired him against his will. He was glad Tommen and Myrcella entered the cosy room so he could forget about his absentee father for now and go back to pretending that Tywin Lannister had never existed in the first place.
"Uncle, will you come along today when we go see that new foal that was born yesterday? You promised us you would?" Tommen who had celebrated his twelfth nameday more than six moons ago looked like a six year old when he pouted.
Myrcella laughed. "He cannot say no, Tommen. He promised the stable boy he would thank him personally and bring him a small gift in the event he managed to save both mother and foal when he assisted the mare in giving birth. And you know what they say …"
'A Lannister always pays his debts.' Both siblings finished the sentence and Tyrion chimed in on the last part as well. They all exchanged smiles.
"How can I refuse the request of my favourite niece and nephew?" He sobered though reminding himself that Tommen had not always been his only nephew and that perhaps the old joke was now in bad taste.
His charges however did not seem bothered and laughed heartily. "Can I offer you another oatcake, Uncle Tyrion?" Myrcella held the plate with deliciously smelling cakes in front of him.
"Thank you Myrcella. You are a godsend, you both are." He accepted a small cake.
He cursed himself for his sudden maudlin mood. Tommen and Myrcella were happy. Why disturb them. It was not their fault that they hardly missed their parents, nor Joffrey nor Uncle Jaime. None of them had ever given the children much attention. Tommen and Myrcella were practically raised by servants and had lived at the royal court where they had to behave much more circumspect than here at the Rock. Here they already felt much more at home and Tyrion gave them all the attention he could spare when he was not dealing with the trouble of keeping the Rock solvent.
"Let us go after lunch, though. I still need to take care of some business before I have some leisure time. Besides, do you not have lessons to attend to?" He gently reminded them of their duties.
"Yes Uncle." They answered in unison and smiled at each other.
***
Tyrion sat in his solar and waited for Bronn to arrive. The Maester had just retired to his own study after discussing some small matters and had left a few personal messages for the Lord of Casterly Rock. One was marked with the secret seal that Lord Stark had showed him. He wondered when Eddard Stark would reveal his real purpose. Tyrion was close to figuring it out but knew something was eluding him. Things didn't add up. He still missed an important piece of the puzzle. He would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did. He was much closer to figuring it out than he had been that fateful afternoon at Winterfell.
Flashback: Winterfell, some time after Bran's incident at the old tower
"You summoned me, Lord Stark?" Tyrion had entered the solar of the Lord of Winterfell curious to know what might be so urgent. Winterfell had felt empty. Almost everyone had left to join the hunt and although he had not been up when the party left, he knew that Lord Stark had led the hunting party personally. He had overheard two servants gossip in the hallway debating over who had looked the most handsome, the current Lord or his heir.
"I did. Thank you me for joining me so swiftly. Sit down, Lord Tyrion. We have a lot to discuss."
Lord Stark had looked rather pale. But Tyrion had not paid attention to it at the time. He had only been disappointed that Lord Stark had not seen fit to offer him any wine. At that time that was one of the things that shaped his days. How his life had changed after the royal visit to Winterfell.
"Your guard didn't leave me much of a choice, my Lord. He was a bit high handed. I might complain if I was a man who were easily offended." He climbed awkwardly upon the chair that was rather high for his stature.
"Well, I am afraid that this talk won't lift your spirits if they are already down, Lord Tyrion. But enough with the niceties. The situation is dire and we need to come to a consensus the two of us to stave off more disaster." Lord Stark's had uttered, his voice grave.
"My Lord?" Tyrion had immediately become alert, knowing Lord Stark was not prone to exaggeration. "Is there a problem I can assist you with?"
"It is not me that has a problem, Lord Tyrion. It is you, or more precisely House Lannister. The Queen and your brother have been caught, how shall I put it, in compromising circumstances in the old tower. Their, and I do not misspeak, their bastards' lives are in jeopardy as are the lives of your siblings." The Lord of Winterfell had stated this in the same grave tone.
"What happened? What do you mean?" Lord Tyrion's brain had been working overtime then. He had guessed full well what had been discovered but had needed to stall for time to find a way to get everyone to safety.
"My son, Bran discovered both of them in the old tower. He likes climbing you see. Your brother's solution was to try and murder the only witness and pushed Bran from the tower." Lord Stark's tone had been outright condemning. His dark grey eyes had not made an effort to conceal the contempt he felt for Ser Jaime's deed.
Tyrion had gasped, immediately grasping that the situation was even more serious than by his first estimation. "I hope the little Lord was wearing his climbing gear and is all right?" He had asked showing his honest concern for the boy's wellbeing.
Lord Stark had looked surprised at Tyrion's sincere tone and that he had been aware of his surroundings enough to know about Bran's tools. Tyrion surmised the Lord had hardly seen him during that visit except at meals half in his cups.
"He is all right, but that doesn't excuse the actions of your brother. He clearly intended to murder my son. You do realise that it is not my wrath alone you should fear, Lord Tyrion. How do you reckon the King will react when he hears that his wife has been cuckolding him with her twin brother almost from the very first moment they were married and that the rumours that he has no trueborn children are true? The matter cannot be concealed. There are witnesses."
Tyrion had of course realised that and had already been thinking two steps ahead. He had needed more information and quickly before the hunting party would eventually return. "Where are my siblings and my niece and nephews, if I may ask, my Lord? I guess the King has not yet returned from the hunt?"
"Your siblings are unharmed for the time being. They are locked up in the old tower. Your niece and youngest nephew are safe inside the castle. I have put them under the protection of Lady Brienne and Lord Tyrell. Prince Joffrey, or should I call him Joffrey Waters is still enjoying the hunt."
Tyrion had stayed silent after receiving that information. He had realised their future was destroyed. Joffrey would never be King but that aspect didn't bother him as much. That was actually for the best. However, sweet Tommen's and Myrcella's lives were over as well. He didn't mind the fact that he might lose everything as well. He was used to being despised because he had been born a dwarf. He would make do one way or another.
Tommen and Myrcella on the other hand had lived so sheltered and pampered. They were in for a rude awakening if they were allowed to live. That last thought had made him look up at Lord Stark, the panic barely concealed in his mismatched eyes. "Tommen and Myrcella are innocent." It had come out as a desperate plea despite his best efforts.
"I will not let anyone hurt them." Lord Stark's resolute voice had calmed him immediately.
"Let me reassure you, Lord Tyrion. I will not let anyone harm them. I am willing to face the wrath of my King if need be. If he orders them to be killed, I would have you flee with them before anyone gets a chance to hurt one hair on their heads. And I include Joffrey in this statement as well. I am sure it was an oversight due to the circumstances and not an intentional slight towards your eldest nephew." Lord Stark had studied him closely and Tyrion had tried not to flinch.
He had kept his voice firm. "Indeed. And what do you ask in return for your help, Lord Stark? I reckon I will owe you?"
"I fear some sacrifice will be required of you. But most of these sacrifices will be made to convince the King that House Lannister will pose no threat to his rule. I asked you here so we could come up with a plan to contain the King's ire as much as possible and to make sure that most of you can leave Winterfell alive. I know you have a big brain in that small body of yours Lord Tyrion. Now is the time to put it to use. What do we tell the King, how do we make sure your niece and nephews still have a semblance of a life after all of this?"
To Lord Tyrion's amazement they had put together a feasible plan and it had all worked out in the end. They hadn't needed to use the contingency plan where he stole away as a thief in the night with the three children of his siblings. Lord Stark had amazed him on several occasions. He had known about the Stark honour and the reputation of his house but that were just words. He had witnessed that honour and sense of justice at work and had been full of admiration for the current Lord of Winterfell.
Even when Eddard Stark had demanded that Lord Tyrion as regent of the Westerlands and temporarily head of House Lannister in the absence of Lord Tywin Lannister signed away all the crown debts and vowed not to fight the annulment of the marriage between his sister and the King nor the removal of their children from the line of succession, Tyrion had easily convinced himself that the lives of the children were worth that sacrifice.
Stark had further demanded that Lord Tyrion would only deal with local politics and not interfere in matters of the realm. Even if the King made the decision to appoint a new Warden of the West, Lord Tyrion would not fight that either. The only assurance he gave him was that the personally property of House Lannister, the Keep, the ground belonging to it including the gold mines would still be theirs. He gave is oath as a Stark that he could pull that off. And so it had happened. House Lannister still owned Casterly Rock and everything that came with it.
But then the tone of the conversation had changed. Lord Stark had become more mysterious and they had discussed things that never could be repeated before the Lord of Winterfell granted him permission. He had hinted he would soon have the power to control the children's' fate and promised to see to it that they would be legitimated and that the realm would recognise them as trueborn Lannisters.
The 'honourable' Eddard Stark had even hinted that somehow Robert's reign might be doomed. If Lord Tyrion swore fealty to him in secret here and now he would see to it that as soon as power switched hands, House Lannister but more specifically Lord Tyrion would be reinstated as Warden of the West and that Tommen would be the next Lord Lannister and his heir.
If ever Tywin Lannister miraculously returned, the man would no longer have a claim to the titles and assets of House Lannister. Tywin Lannister would be stripped of his titles and possessions as punishment for former misdeeds. Lord Tyrion didn't need to worry about the details. Lord Stark would also do his utmost to negotiate excellent matches for Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey should make his own way in life, the powerful Lord had stated without blushing.
And so his life had changed. Tyrion had left Winterfell by the grace of King Robert and had been allowed to take his surviving niece and nephew with him. The death of Joffrey had been a bit of a relief if he was entirely honest with himself. The last night that he had spoken to the spoiled brat still gave him nightmares. The little bastard had sealed his own fate when he attacked the King. Anyway he had left the Northern stronghold and had been ordered to take the Lannister contingent that had accompanied the royal caravan with him as well.
He had a letter from Lord Stark addressed to the Lords of the North and the Riverlands in his pocket granting him and his retinue safe passage as long as they were headed south towards the Rock. The journey home had taken only half the time compared to how long the pompous journey north had lasted, even if they had been slowed down by the wagon carrying the remains of his deceased nephew.
He had spent a lot of time on the road wondering at the words and the promise Lord Stark had extorted from him. But he would give it again gladly if it meant that Tommen and Myrcella would receive a good chance at a decent live. No matter how they were sired, they were his niece and nephew and he loved them dearly. He only hoped Lord Stark could live up to his promises and keep Jaime and Cersei alive. No matter what had happened, they were still his siblings.
Lord Stark had even let him talk to Jaime one last time. He had hardly recognised the golden lion when he had seen the dejected man that had barely greeted him when he had entered the tower where the twins had been caught and that served now as Jaime's prison cell. Cersei had been incarcerated elsewhere but Tyrion had not asked to say goodbye to her. She would probably have ignored him and he wouldn't have known what to say to her anyway.
It had taken some time before he got through to Jaime. When he finally had done so, his older brother had cried in Tyrion's lap.
"I am so sorry Tyrion. I am so sorry. If only I could take it all back."
"Well you can't." Tyrion had remarked awkwardly not familiar with the reversal of their roles. How did you comfort an older brother who had always had everything going for him when you were the one who had always been side-lined and his only good memories were of Jaime helping him by shielding him from their father's ire and of the one time Tyrion had cried with his head in Jaime's lap.
"How is Cersei? Have you seen her?" Jaime had asked his words barely understandable as they were muttered against Tyrion's thigh.
"Are you not concerned about the fate of your children? You know what happened to Prince Rhaegar's offspring." Tyrion had been offended that his brother's first thoughts were of his twin. Things never changed.
"I couldn't help them even though I swore Prince Rhaegar I would protect them. How can I help my own children?"
"By not fighting was has been agreed upon, by accepting your fate." Tyrion had been glad these words had gotten through to his brother.
Jaime had sat up when he heard that. "You know? They told you what their plans are?"
"Lord Stark did." Tyrion had replied. "That man is an enigma. He is the children's greatest advocate, Jaime. He is willing to brave the King's punishment and will allow me flee with all three of them before the Baratheons get the chance to harm them. He has taken them in protective custody and hasn't told the King of their whereabouts."
"At least that is something. You won't tell me about Cersei?"
He hadn't been able to resist the plea in his brother's eyes then. "Lord Stark has promised to do everything in his power to prevent King Robert from executing her. I trust the man, Jaime. He may not be our friend but he is an ally, strange as it may seem. He promised me House Lannister gets to keep the Rock." Tyrion hesitated wondering if he should say more. "Between you and me, and I will deny I ever said it, so do not breathe a word of this to anybody, he promised that in time he would see to it that Tommen would be legitimated and recognised as the next Lord of Casterly Rock. He gave me his word."
"And you believe him?" Jaime's words had been spoken more with hope than with doubt.
Tyrion had believed it at the time and still believed it now. He had not hesitated to reassure his brother. "I do. I believe him, Jaime. Let it be your consolation that whatever fate befalls you, your son will continue our house and our name."
"What will happen to me? Will your honourable ally take my head off personally or will my lot be to freeze to death at the Wall?"
"I do not know." Tyrion had stated honestly. "I pray the Wall. With your abilities, you could take over that sorry brotherhood in no time. And even if you are not allowed to leave, you could build a life for yourself and create some of your own rules. At least you will live and I'll write to you about the rest of us." Tyrion had embraced his brother knowing full well that it might be the very last chance he got to do that.
"I am sorry, Tyrion. I really am. I never meant for you all to suffer for the things I did. If only I had resisted Cersei all these years ago." Jaime had clung to him for dear life.
Tyrion had disentangled them with some effort. He had looked his brother in the eye. "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. That is water under the bridge, Jaime. Best not dwell too much on the past. Think of others for a change and behave yourself. Even if Lord Stark has a lot of influence with the King right now, one outburst from you can undo all the good work Eddard Stark has put into persuading the King to show some leniency to the remnants of House Lannister. We could lose the Rock. Tommen and Myrcella might be taken away and be put to work as servants, or worse."
In the end his brother had seen reason and had become somewhat reconciled to his fate or something resembling that at least. Tyrion had left the next day knowing he might never see any of his siblings ever again.
Present: Back at the Rock
So here he sat at his father's desk. He was now responsible for House Lannister and his niece and nephew. The most important thing was to get the finances of House Lannister sound again. They had counted on the reimbursement of the Crown's debt to keep solvent but now that he had signed away that gold he needed to find other sources of income. First order of business had been to appoint a new kennel master. Their region was famous for training hounds and ever since the Cleganes had upped and left, things had not been run as efficiently.
He also had summoned the major farmers and had heard their grievances. They had been given some means but most of all sound advice on how to reorganise their farms. Tyrion had vowed to help them out and to visit them in person to appraise their needs. He had promised that each farmer that implemented the new farming practices would receive livestock financed by House Lannister. More specifically they would get two horses and the choice between five cows or ten sheep. They had all left promising to start implementing the ameliorations immediately.
Now the only thing left to do was to hear the latest reports from the Lannister gold mines. Bronn had not let him down. Ever since he had asked him to look into things, the revenue of the mines had increased. Bronn had explained in his reports that the previous overseers had been too lazy and only given orders to mine where the mineral could easily be reached. Bronn had instructed them to build ladders and dig new shafts and things had progressed from there.
He looked up when he saw Bronn enter with a big grin on his face. "How much were you willing to pay me if I turned the damned things around?" The former sellsword said without a greeting as he sat down in his nonchalant way Tyrion was used to by now.
Tyrion rather liked the man who had no manners whatsoever and spoke out loud whatever he was thinking. It was refreshing and easy in a way to deal with him. You didn't have to second guess his motivations. They were clear as hell: gold, more gold and lots of female company. Bronn needed no more than that. Tyrion was more than willing to give him that as long as he kept the mines solvent and perhaps even have them showing a nice profit again from the looks of things.
"My, are you in a good mood." Tyrion laughed. "Had a good whore in your bed last night?"
"Two as a matter of fact if you really want to know. You should come with me sometime. I will fucking set you up. I am sure someone is willing to blow that tiny prick of yours." His friendly tone softened the arrogance of his words.
Tyrion took no offence, he even considered for a fraction of a moment to take him up on his offer. "I am good thanks. What news, my friend."
"Let's renegotiate our deal. I want a percentage of the yield. Not only a fucking salary."
Tyrion's heart skipped a beat. That demand bode well. He kept his face blank however. "You want both? Unacceptable. Let's say I cut your salary in half and you get two per cent."
"Ten and I keep my salary."
"Five and you get no salary whatsoever. But you only get the percentage as long as you work for me."
"Seven." Bronn said in his nonchalant manner but Tyrion could see the steel in his eyes. The man meant business.
"Deal. Now tell me just how much gold you have he found in those mines of mine?" Tyrion settled back in his chair. This was going to be good. If Bronn waved away his salary then he must have found a treasure.
"I found a new vein! We just need to expose it and that can take more than a moon if we do not want the damn thing to collapse but we struck gold. Literally!" Bronn's features said it all. The man glowed almost as brightly as Lannister gold.
"I'll want to see that with my own eyes." Tyrion was getting caught up in Bronn's excitement.
"Well, what the hells are you waiting for? I am not going to fucking carry you. Get those little legs moving. I have a horse ready for you, Lord Dwarf." The man was already halfway to the door when he looked back to check whether Tyrion was coming.
Tyrion jumped of his chair and followed Bronn not in the least bothered by the new surname. They had struck gold! He no longer needed to contemplate accepting Lord Frey's offer to choose a bride amongst his daughters or granddaughters in order to receive his bride's weight in gold.
***
Later that night in his bed, for the first time in a long while Tyrion was at peace. Things were starting to look up. Their finances were back on track. He could once more have a fully staffed and equipped houseguard and train enough soldiers to defend his borders if need be. The farmers would get all the support they needed and the next harvest would be plentiful. A heavy load left his shoulders. Tommen's future was secure. Now he only needed Lord Stark's help to legitimate the boy before he became aware of the stigma that came with his bastard status. Here at the Rock nobody dared raise the issue. Tyrion had seen to that. Everyone addressed his nephew as Lord Tommen and the boy didn't think twice about it. He looked happy here at the Rock and never questioned that it might not be his to inherit. Tommen seemed glad that he was no longer destined to be King. Life was simple when you were that young.
Now he only needed to find a betrothed for Myrcella. As soon as she was legitimated with the large dowry he could bestow on her, he would be able to find a good match. Perhaps he didn't really need the help of Lord Stark for that. He still had time though. He needed to wait for whatever change in power Lord Stark had hinted at that would soon be coming.
Free of his troubles, his mind focussed once more on the puzzle he had been trying to solve for moons now, the hidden motives of the Lord of Winterfell. Tyrion had a lot of pieces of the puzzle already. He just needed to see how they fit together and perhaps find a few missing ones. He was close to figuring it out. He felt his brain grasp for something that was just out of its reach. He would read the message from Eddard Stark again tomorrow morning. Perhaps there was some clue hidden in there that he hadn't discovered yet. Once more he mentally reviewed the pieces he had gathered so far.
The North was prospering more than ever. He had seen Winterfell and had questioned several servants. They had told him all about the building of the second wall, the new glass gardens with pride in their voices. They all worshipped the current Lord Stark. On his way back he had seen the new fortress and town of Moat Cailin. He was sure Lord Stark had somehow redirected the royal caravan to keep the King from seeing the new stronghold in such a strategic place. The man was a lot more cunning than anyone thought possible.
He had kept his ears open and had learned about the northern fleet of over a hundred ships strong. In the Riverlands they had confirmed that House Tully also had several ships at Seagard that were under the command of their good brother Lord Stark. In the taverns he had heard more details of the attack of the Ironborn on the Stony Shore and was convinced there were dragons and somehow Lord Stark knew about them and wasn't worried. Some rumours went as far as proclaiming the dragonrider a Stark or a Snow.
The Targaryen Princess also had ties to the Northern Kingdom. Add to that Lord Stark's hints about Robert's ending reign and him swearing loyalty to Lord Stark and not the King, there was a rebellion brewing.
The only missing piece was who would be the next King of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if he had detected a new side to Lord Stark, he couldn't believe that the noble Warden of the North would usurp his friend's throne and sit upon it himself or give it to his heir. There had to be something he was missing. There had to be someone he was overlooking. It couldn't be the Princess. Perhaps there was a dragonrider with mixed blood. Perhaps Benjen or Brandon Stark had sired a son with a woman of Valyrian decent.
He was almost sure he was on the right track, he had confronted Ned Stark about the rumours days before the Bran incident and Lord Stark had appeared flustered and laughed everything away. The man had looked uneasy though. Tyrion was on the right track. He only needed to find the missing link.
Anyway, for now everything Lord Stark had asked him to do, Tyrion had been more than happy to comply. He could boast that he had helped to bring Petyr Baelish down, even if it had cost him days of going over boring numbers to find the well-hidden manipulations of the former Master of Coin. He hoped his spy from the capital would arrive soon so he could hear all about the trial in detail. He regretted that they were all still on house arrest so to speak and couldn't leave the Rock but he had given Lord Stark his word. Besides, life at the Rock nowadays was like living in one of the Seven Heavens compared to the years when his father had still been around.
And he had to admit he liked a puzzle that was complex enough to take him some time to solve. Finding the right solution was always so much more rewarding when he finally did.
***
A sennight later after his informant had told him in detail what had happened at Baelish's trial, Tyrion knew he had found the last piece of the puzzle. Lyanna Stark had married Prince Rhaegar! Now he only needed to locate their child, the one with the blood of a dragon that Lord Stark would consider the rightful heir to the throne and part of his pack. There was a dragonrider and he was an ally to the North, even a close kin to House Stark.
Tyrion had done the right thing after all. He had aligned himself with the winning side in the coming conflict. Now he only needed to be smart and use this information to the benefit of his house. It had been the most rewarding puzzle he had solved in years. Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar, who would have thought…
*