The news of Lord Eddard's waking could scarcely have come at a better hour. Arthur had broken his fast when Ser Tristan's runner arrived from the Tower of the Hand, mud still clinging to his boots. The young guardsman knelt before him, breathing hard. "M'ilord," he said, "Lord Stark has awakened."
Arthur set aside the letter from Pentos that he had been reading. "Has the King seen him yet?"
"Yes, m'ilord," He replied, "His Grace has already gone to visit."
"Return to Ser Tristan," Arthur said, nodding. "Tell him to keep the watch unchanged. No man enters the Tower save by Lord Stark's leave or mine. Inform him to escort Vary to the Hand's chambers."
"At once, my lord." The man bowed and departed.
Arthur had instructed Varys to bring both the ledgers and the armor to the Tower of the Hand before the afternoon bells. Lord Stark would see them with his own eyes. Ned Stark was not a man easily swayed by whispers, but neither was he blind when proof lay before him. If fortune remained with them, Lord Stark would order Janos Slynt seized before sunset.
Arthur did not fool himself into believing Janos was the true enemy. Janos Slynt was a creature who sold himself to the highest bidder, little more than another butcher raised above his station. Men such as him did not build plots, they were merely soldiers in the Cyvasse board of their masters. It was Janos's master he was after.
If Janos confessed and Arthur meant to see that he did, the trail would end with Baelish. And mayhaps with the mockingbird he could even reach even the Iron bank itself.
In any case, removing Janos would give Arthur immediate control over the city watch, for he had already considered who should wear the golden cloak after him. Ser Loras Tyrell.
The young knight possessed courage enough, and honor besides. Though perhaps pride ruled him more than wisdom. Even so, he was steadfast where Janos was corrupt, admired where Janos was feared. More importantly, House Tyrell would welcome a place upon the small council's circle of influence. And Renly would most certainly approve. The alliance Arthur was seeking would extend to the whole of the south with this move.
Outside his manse, the bells of the Great Sept of Baelor began to ring, the sound drifting across the city. Lord Stark and His Grace would already have finished speaking by now. Arthur only prayed the meeting had gone better than he feared.
There could be no lasting yields of his plans whilst the Starks and the Lannisters remained at one another's throats. He and Robert were sailing east on the morrow. The realm could ill afford its greatest houses drawing steel whilst its king crossed the narrow sea.
Arthur had spent days shaping terms of a truce that both sides might accept. Though he knew neither would be pleased by them. The queen had opposed nearly every part of it. Robert, for once, had refused her. Now only Lord Stark remained and he knew Robert would make him accept it too.
Arthur went to the manse's courtyard and mounted Midnight. He set off toward Aegon's High Hill with Donnel, Sandor and a small escort following behind. The streets were busy despite the heat. Fishmongers shouted beneath faded awnings, septons walked amongst the crowds, and merchants argued in half a dozen tongues as wagons creaked toward the city gates.
Before speaking with Lord Stark, Arthur meant to see the king once more. If Janos Slynt were to be arrested today, he wished to act with Robert's blessing rather than merely the Hand's authority. Removing the commander of the City Watch would send ripples through every corner of King's Landing. Better that no man question whose will had ordered it.
The gates of the Red Keep opened before them, and Arthur rode through the outer yard toward Maegor's Holdfast. Men-at-arms saluted as he passed. Stable boys hurried forward to take the horses while Donnel remained outside with the escort.
Inside, the familiar echoes of mailed boots upon stone accompanied him through the winding halls until he reached the king's apartments. The guards admitted him without delay.
Robert Baratheon stood beside an open window, a heavy silver cup already in one hand despite the hour. Sunlight poured through the shutters behind him, catching the black antlers embroidered upon his yellow doublet.
"There you are," Robert boomed as soon as Arthur entered. "I was wondering whether you'd forgotten the way."
Arthur smiled faintly and bowed. "Never, Your Grace."
"Hah!" Robert drained another swallow of wine. "You'll be pleased to hear your foster father has returned to torment us all."
Arthur allowed himself a small breath. "Is he well enough for the council?"
"He is strong." Robert waved a dismissive hand. "I've restored him as Hand. The chain's back around his neck where it belongs."
"And... the agreement?" Arthur asked hesitantly.
Robert scratched thoughtfully at his beard before answering. "He accepted the peace."
Relief settled over Arthur, though only for a moment. "So the quarrel is ended?"
"For now, Catelyn has been commanded to release the imp, and Ned will not seek retaliation against the kingslayer." Robert snorted. "Neither Ned nor Cersei looks happy, which tells me the bargain's probably fair."
The king walked to a nearby table and poured himself more wine before continuing. "I did not speak of everything, though."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Your Grace?"
Robert moved the cup toward him and Arthur took it from his hand.
"I have not informed him that he will lead the regency council," The king said, "Nor the business of Jaime leaving the Kingsguard... and withdrawing the summons for Tywin."
Arthur had hoped those matters had already been settled. "You did not raise them?"
"No." Robert shook his head without the slightest trace of guilt. He took another drink. "I've had enough arguing for one morning. Gods, the pair of them could sour summer."
Robert grinned. "Besides," the king said, "Ned will listen to you." Arthur doubted that claim more than Robert knew.
Arthur sighed inwardly. "I shall do my best, Your Grace."
These last weeks, each conversation with Lord Stark seemed harder than the last. Once Arthur had spoken to him as a son might speak to his father, now every sentence felt measured, every silence heavier than the one before it.
Robert had scarcely settled back into his chair when Arthur spoke again. "There is one more matter, Your Grace."
The king groaned loud enough for the guards beyond the door to hear. "There always is." He rubbed at his brow. "Go on then. What fresh misery have you brought me?"
"I ask for leave to allow Lord Stark to remove several officers of the Crown." Arthur said, minding his words. He had to carefully convince the King for this.
Robert lowered the cup from his lips and frowned. "Why?"
Arthur stepped closer, speaking softly, "The attack upon Lord Stark was a breach of the King's Peace. The realm has seen the Hand struck down in the streets beneath your own banners. If no man answers for it, the Crown itself appears powerless. We require someone to answer for the failure."
"I know that well enough." Robert cursed beneath his breath, he eyed Arthur suspiciously and said, "You are about to ask me to arrest the bloody kingslayer now, are you, not after you were the one who advocated for his safety."
"No, Your Grace." Arthur replied, "I am not."
That answer seemed to ease the king somewhat.
Arthur continued, "I do not wish for the peace that has been won this morning to die before sunset."
Robert grunted. "Aye, neither do I."
"So instead," Arthur said, "let the Crown declare that Lord Stark was attacked by common outlaws."
Robert barked a laugh. "Bandits?"
"They need not have truly been bandits," Arthur replied evenly. "Only named so. The people know little of what happened beyond whispers. Most saw steel drawn, horses fleeing, and dead men in the streets. They will believe what the Crown proclaims."
The king leaned back, considering. "And would Ned accept this?"
"He would have to." Arthur folded his hands behind his back. "Give it as one of your commands, and he will obey to keep the peace intact. House Lannister keeps its honor. House Stark receives justice. Most importantly, Your Grace keeps both of them in line."
Robert scratched thoughtfully at his beard. "And these bandits..." he said. "Who exactly am I hanging?"
Arthur replied, "The men charged with keeping the King's Peace. The officers responsible for the city's security and their commander bears responsibility for what happened beneath their watch."
For a long moment the king simply stared at him. Then understanding slowly crossed his face. "Janos?"
"And a few others who failed in their duty, whether through corruption or negligence we will find out." Arthur nodded once. "The City Watch exists to keep order in King's Landing. If armed men can assault the Hand of the King in broad daylight, then someone has failed."
Robert snorted. "I doubt the oaf even knew what was happening."
"That matters less than the appearance of justice," Arthur answered. "The realm must see that when the King's Peace is broken, the Crown does not look away."
Robert let out another long groan, louder than the first. "Gods..."
The king drained half the cup before speaking again. "So you'll dismiss Slynt, blame the whole bloody affair on brigands, punish a handful of officers, and everyone goes home believing justice was done?"
"That is my hope, Your Grace."
Robert shook his head with weary amusement. "I have no notion how your mind wanders through these twists." He waved one broad hand as though swatting away a fly. "Whatever you wish to do, you have my leave do it, so long as Ned agrees."
Arthur bowed his head and started for the door. "It shall be done, Your Grace."
Robert sighed heavily. "Just fix this bloody mess before we sail. I'd sooner face ten thousand pirates than another day of wolves and lions squabbling in my hall."
Arthur's boots rang softly against the stone as he climbed the Tower of the Hand. Today, he brings three commands that Lord Stark would certainly despise and all of them his own design. Dismiss Janos Slynt, withdraw the royal summons sent to Lord Tywin, and release Ser Jaime Lannister from his white cloak.
The first one would prove to be easier than the others...
Arthur exhaled slowly. There had been a time when such tasks would not have troubled him nor been in his mind. But King's Landing had demanded compromises Winterfell never would. Secrets. Half-truths. Alliances with men like Varys. All that he had to do to better the position of his family in the end had rotted from the inside.
Though each of those choice had been made for the betterment of the realm, yet each one seemed to place another stone between Arthur and the man who had raised him. Still, he had no choice. The power of the north must be secured first, even if he had to build another wall for that, he would.
By the time he reached the landing outside the Hand's chambers, Arthur had schooled his face into its usual calm. Alyn stood guard before the door in a clean grey cloak over mail, a spear resting against his shoulder.
"Lord Arthur," the newly named captain of the guards greeted with a respectful nod.
"Captain." Arthur returned the nod. "How is he?"
Alyn let out a weary breath. "Still spent from the king's visit, my lord. His fever has broken, but strength returns slowly."
Robert never did know how to keep a visit short. For half a heartbeat Arthur considered returning later but there would be no later. On the morrow they sailed for Tarth. Whatever knots remained in King's Landing had to be untied before then, else they would only tighten in his absence.
"I'm afraid I must disturb him," Arthur said quietly. "It shall not be for long."
"Aye, my lord." Alyn pushed open the door and slipped inside. Arthur waited in silence. A moment later the captain returned. "My lord will see you."
"Wait out here," Arthur told Donnel and entered. His sworn shield nodded and stood beside Alyn.
The chamber smelled faintly of boiled herbs and clean linen. Sunlight poured through the narrow windows, falling across maps, letters and the heavy oak table where the affairs of the realm had so often been decided. Lord Eddard Stark rested upon the bed. He seemed smaller than Arthur remembered.
The sleep and the fever had stripped away flesh from his face, leaving sharper cheekbones and deeper shadows beneath those cold grey eyes. His leg lay wrapped beneath blankets, motionless. The sight struck Arthur harder than he expected. For he saw not the Hand of the King then, but the man who had taught him to ride beneath Winterfell's walls, who had corrected his sword grip with patient hands, who had spoken of honor and told him countless stories. The calm presence that stayed by his side when he could not sleep in fear of the dark.
Arthur crossed the room and went to one knee. "My lord," he said quietly, lowering his head. "I beg your forgiveness. I have failed you."
"Stand, Arthur." Lord Stark spoke, his voice rough and dry. "You have not failed me."
Arthur obeyed.
Lord Stark continued. "You protected my daughters. You saw to my household's safety. You dealt honorably by my men when I could not." His grey eyes settled upon Arthur. "I could ask for nothing more."
Arthur met his foster father's gaze. The words ought to have eased him. Instead they weighed heavier knowing what he had come to do. "Still," he said after a moment, "I should have stopped this from happening."
Ned laughed softly and said, "You speak as though every wrong in the realm is yours to prevent."
Arthur gave no answer. Because too often he believed exactly that.
Lord Stark watched him in silence. "It is not my child, my wounds and the death of my men were caused by the kingslayer. You could not have known what would happen. A man cannot guard against every treachery."
Arthur swallowed and replied, "Aye."
Ned studied him for another long moment before speaking again. "You wear guilt poorly." A faint ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "You always did."
Arthur managed the barest smile in return. "I learned that I cannot hide anything from you, my lord."
"Aye," Ned admitted, weariness plain upon his face. "Perhaps you cannot."
He shifted slightly against the pillows, suppressing a wince as pain crossed his features. "Now tell me the true reason you came here. For you did not come merely to apologize."
"No, my lord." Arthur had rehearsed the conversation a dozen times upon the walk to the Tower of the Hand. None of those words seemed to find him now. "I came with a few urgent matters, my lord. All of which must be settled before we leave the capital."
Ned replied, "Go on, tell me what burden you've come to lay before me."
"You are Lord Hand once more by the king's command," Arthur continued. "And when His Grace sails east to wage war, you shall also serve him by leading the regency council."
Lord Stark frowned, "Why would we need a regency?"
"The realm has long followed such custom," Arthur explained. "When a king campaigns far from his seat, governance of the kingdoms passes into a regency council until his return. The Hand presides over it in the king's name. The small council remains in place... and a member of the royal family takes the King's seat. Had Joffrey been of age he would have sat in his father's seat but as he is not the Queen shall take his place."
Ned's expression hardened at once. "Cersei will sit that council?"
"Aye." Arthur replied, "In truth the charge of the kingdoms will rest with you and our king trusts you more. Still, the queen will wield some power too."
"Why did Robert not tell me this?" Ned asked, displeasure plain in his voice. "He spoke with me this morning."
"Mayhaps it slipped His Grace's mind," Arthur lied, his voice even. Before Lord Stark could answer, he continued, "It matters little, my lord. What matters is that while the king is across the Narrow Sea, you should not stand alone. You will require allies. Men whose loyalty is to the realm... and to you."
Ned replied, "The king will return soon enough and this council will return to what it was."
"Yes, he will." Arthur agreed, "Gods willing, King Robert shall return with victory."
He paused, "But even when he does, you need allies at court. Robert will not be king forever."
"Nor will I remain hand after that," Ned replied firmly.
"As you wish my lord." Arthur sighed, wondering how will he convince this stubborn man to do anything the gods only know.
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