Eddard's heart sank sharply.
Two unexpected letters—at such a sensitive time?
He took the wooden box from Maester Luwin. It was heavier than it looked. With steady fingers, he lifted the lid. Inside was neither the documents nor the jewels he had anticipated, but a small, finely crafted Myrish lens.
"A lens?"
Eddard picked up the delicate object, the cold glass sending a chill through his fingertips.
Catelyn had already risen from bed, wrapped in a thick fur robe. She snatched the lens from his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. "A lens is meant to reveal the truth."
Maester Luwin nodded gravely. "The Lady speaks true. And the lens was not the only message. Hidden beneath the false bottom of the box, I found this."
He carefully drew another neatly folded letter from his sleeve and handed it to them.
The seal was deep blue, pressed with the crescent moon and falcon sigil of House Arryn.
Catelyn's eyes fixed on the familiar emblem. Her pupils tightened sharply as a memory struck her—Lysa, her sister, fleeing to the Eyrie with her son.
Without hesitation, she tore the letter from Luwin's hands, her nails scraping the wax as she ripped it open. Her eyes darted across the words, and color drained from her face. Her hand trembled violently, the paper quivering between her fingers.
"Gods above..."
Her voice broke, trembling with disbelief and horror. "It's Lysa's secret code... only the two of us would understand it."
She lifted her head suddenly, her eyes blazing with fear and fury as she turned to Eddard and Luwin. "She's warning me. She says... she says Jon Arryn was murdered. The killer—was the Queen. Cersei Lannister."
Eddard froze as though struck by lightning. His hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked. He could barely believe what he was hearing.
Maester Luwin gasped, too stunned to speak.
Catelyn ignored their shock. She strode to the hearth and, without hesitation, threw the coded letter into the fire. The parchment curled and blackened instantly, consumed by flame until only a thin wisp of smoke remained.
Luwin then pointed to the other letter he had brought. "My lord, there is... another one. No seal, no sigil. Coarse paper, with only a few lines of strange, confusing words."
He handed the crumpled parchment to Eddard.
Eddard's brows furrowed deeply. What could so trouble a learned maester?
He took the letter and smoothed it open. His eyes scanned the lines—first narrowing in confusion, then widening in shock. His body tensed.
His voice came out hoarse and shaking.
"No... my lady... the murderer... it may not be who we think..."
He looked up suddenly, his expression twisted by disbelief and fury. "This letter claims... that the one who killed the Hand of the King was the King's own brother—Renly Baratheon."
As his words fell, even the flames in the hearth seemed to flicker and dim.
Catelyn's eyes went wide, staring at her husband as though she no longer knew him.
She snatched the letter from his grasp, scanning the plain, uneven handwriting:
"I told the Hand of the King about my brother. The Hand went to warn him—but he murdered him. Lord Eddard, do not forget our conversation that night..."
Catelyn read the lines again and again, her brow furrowed. "Whose brother? What conversation?"
Both she and Maester Luwin turned toward Eddard, confusion mirrored on their faces. His expression was grim, his jaw tight.
Eddard drew a deep breath.
Then, without hesitation, he told them everything—of that final night in Tyrosh, when Stannis Baratheon had come to him in secret, revealing Renly's scheme to conspire with House Tyrell to depose Cersei and place the Tyrell maiden upon the throne.
Catelyn listened, utterly stunned, her voice trembling. "You mean... this letter... it's from Lord Stannis?! Then the one he accuses... the murderer... is Lord Renly?!"
The abrupt twist left her reeling. The culprit she had just been certain of was overturned in an instant.
Maester Luwin furrowed his gray-streaked brows, the light in his aged eyes cautious and probing. "My lord, can you be certain of this letter's origin? Merely from these cryptic words..."
Eddard nodded firmly. "Aside from Stannis and myself, no one alive could possibly know the exact details of that conversation. The wording of this letter is deliberately obscure—without the key, it would read as nonsense to anyone else. Only I could recognize that it points directly to Renly."
In his mind, he saw it clearly: the harbor of Tyrosh, that final moment when Stannis had given him a knowing, wordless glance before they parted ways.
"Stannis would never dare to contact me openly. This matter is too dangerous. If word leaked out, it could cost him his life."
Catelyn still clutched the letter accusing Renly, her expression bewildered. "But... Lysa's letter? Why would she accuse the Queen?"
Eddard fell silent for a moment, his thoughts racing as he weighed the two opposing accusations against one another.
Considering their motives...
If Renly truly intended to replace the Queen, Robert's hatred of the Lannisters might have made him more receptive to such a plan. But as Hand of the King—the very pillar of the realm's stability—Jon Arryn would have done everything in his power to prevent it. Removing Jon Arryn would clear the most stubborn and dangerous obstacle standing in the way of Renly's scheme.
"You cannot place full faith in your sister's words," Eddard said bluntly to Catelyn. "She is the Hand's widow, not a player in the politics of King's Landing. That city is the greatest nest of intrigue in the Seven Kingdoms. Her sources of information could easily have been manipulated by those with their own agendas.
"And Stannis—long before Jon's death—personally warned me of Renly's ambition to replace the Queen. If Jon discovered that plot and tried to stop it, then his death... Renly would have had the strongest motive—and the clearest opportunity."
The balance within Eddard's mind had shifted completely. Stannis's accusation fit perfectly with his own reasoning.
Renly Baratheon—the King's charming, gallant younger brother—was concealing a dangerous ambition beneath his polished smile.
A spark glimmered in Maester Luwin's clouded eyes. "If Lord Stannis's accusation is true, my lord, then such a crime cannot have been flawless. There must be traces left behind. It seems your journey to King's Landing is now inevitable. As Hand of the King, you will hold the authority to uncover the truth behind Lord Arryn's death—and bring the murderer to justice."
But Catelyn's thoughts were elsewhere, still consumed by visions of Sansa's shining future. For her daughter's crown—for the unprecedented glory of House Stark—this danger had to be faced.
She stepped closer, gripping Eddard's arms tightly, her tone urgent and pleading. "Ned, you've said you love Robert as if he were your own brother. Can you truly stand by and let him be surrounded by schemers and traitors—left blind to the danger closing in on him?
Whether it's Renly or the Queen... the truth lies in King's Landing. You must go."
"Seven hells take you both," Eddard muttered under his breath.
He turned toward the window, staring out at the lonely, snowbound fortress of the North. His eyes stung faintly, as though he were already saying farewell—to Winterfell, to the peace he knew, to everything he loved.