Eddard grew increasingly astonished at how well Littlefinger knew the hidden ways of the Red Keep. King's Landing and the Red Keep still felt far too unfamiliar to him. Littlefinger clearly knew far too many secrets, though Varys might know even more.
Eddard held the position of Hand of the King, yet within the Red Keep he felt like an outsider. King's Landing was not his home. His home lay far away in the North.
He remained deeply wary of Littlefinger. His very first day here had already been exhausting. Schemes and deceit held no appeal for him, but he was beginning to understand that intrigue and manipulation were Littlefinger's daily bread.
Littlefinger led him through a maze of twisting passages until they reached the bottom of a staircase. At the base stood a heavy door reinforced with oak and iron bands. Littlefinger gestured for Eddard to enter.
Eddard stepped through and found himself standing on a sheer cliff above the river, bathed in the red glow of dusk.
"We're outside the Red Keep," Eddard said.
"You're not easily fooled, Stark." Littlefinger grinned foolishly. "Was it the sun, or the sky that gave it away? Come along. There are footholds carved into the rock. Try not to fall to your death, or Catelyn would never forgive me."
With that, he swung himself over the edge and began climbing down, moving with the nimble ease of a monkey.
Eddard studied the cliff carefully before following. As Littlefinger had said, shallow indentations had been carved into the rock face, cleverly concealed. The river below lay at a dizzying distance.
At last Eddard reached the bottom where Littlefinger waited. A narrow, muddy path ran along the water's edge, and two horses had already been prepared.
Their destination was a place filled with perfume and noise, crowded with women of the night.
Eddard's anger finally subsided when he saw Ser Rodrik, the master-at-arms of Winterfell. That alone proved Littlefinger had spoken the truth.
Catelyn had truly come.
"But why?" Eddard wondered. "And why would Catelyn be staying on Littlefinger's ground?"
Full of questions, he climbed to the third floor, walked down the corridor, and entered the room.
Catelyn was inside.
She rushed forward and threw her arms around her husband.
"My lady," Eddard said softly, astonished.
Littlefinger closed the door behind them, still wearing that careless expression.
"Excellent," Littlefinger said with a smile. "It seems you still recognize your own wife."
After a brief exchange, Catelyn told him she had already heard about what happened between Arya and the young Prince. Both girls were deeply upset and furious.
Eddard still carried many doubts. Catelyn asked about their daughters, and after answering her questions, Eddard finally asked about the true reason for her journey.
"Is this about Bran?" he asked grimly. "Could he…"
He prepared himself for the worst. When he had left Winterfell, Bran's injuries had been grave. Death had seemed a real possibility.
"Yes," Catelyn said, shaking her head. "But not in the way you think."
"This may be a place of pleasure, Lord Stark," Littlefinger said with a smile. "But where could Catelyn Tully hide more safely than here? As it happens, this establishment belongs to me, which makes the arrangements simple. I can keep the Lannisters from learning that Catelyn is in King's Landing."
Eddard noticed the strange position of Catelyn's fingers. Fresh red scars had not yet healed, and the little finger and ring finger of her left hand were stiff and awkward.
"You're hurt," Eddard said, taking her hand and examining the wounds carefully.
"Gods, this is deep. A sword cut? Or…" He frowned. "My lady, how did this happen?"
Catelyn drew a dagger from beneath her cloak and handed it to him.
"This dagger," she said quietly. "Someone meant to kill Bran with it."
"But who would…" Eddard's face darkened. He suddenly looked up.
"My dear, let me explain. Just listen." Catelyn pressed a finger gently against his lips.
Slowly, she told him everything he had missed. The assassination attempt at Winterfell, the fire in the library tower, her journey south, Varys, the City Watch that received her at the gates of King's Landing, and finally Littlefinger.
"The wolf and the lion believe themselves hunters," Littlefinger said as he watched the scene unfold. "Yet they do not realize that the true hunter hides in the shadows."
Catelyn was no cleverer than Lysa. Everything was unfolding perfectly.
Littlefinger could almost hear the horns of war beginning to sound.
Millions would die, but a few would rise with the tide.
The direwolf and the lion. What a marvelous chain reaction. Soon enough, both would bleed each other dry.
Eddard remembered the wolf pups in the snow. Their mother had died together with a stag.
Those pups had seemed like a gift from the gods.
Yet Arya had been forced to drive away her own.
The memory stirred something deep within him. A quiet warning that he should be afraid.
Eddard forced himself out of that creeping dread and looked down at the dagger in his hand.
"The Imp's blade," he murmured.
He gripped the smooth dragonbone hilt and slammed it hard into the tabletop.
The dagger sank in at once, standing upright.
Valyrian steel was the sharpest metal in the world.
"Why would Tyrion Lannister want Bran dead? The boy never did anything to provoke him." Eddard's brow furrowed deeply.
The Imp was infamous for his scandals, that much was true. Yet from what Eddard knew, the half-man, the dwarf, was simply fond of visiting brothels. By temperament, he was nothing like his brother and sister. He lacked their arrogance and cruelty.
"The Imp would never act alone," Littlefinger added, his tone patient and coaxing.
Eddard rose and began pacing the room.
"Could the Queen be involved?" he said slowly. "Or, by the gods… even the King himself…"
He stopped.
"No. Impossible."
Eddard refused to believe Robert capable of such a thing. Robert was as close to him as a brother.
Yet as he spoke, a memory surfaced. A cold morning on the lonely burial ground. Robert proposing they send an assassin after the Targaryen Princess. Eddard remembered Rhaegar's infant son, the child's bloodied head, and the king's indifference. The same indifference Robert had shown on the Kingsroad.
"The King probably knows nothing," Littlefinger said. "When it comes to things he would rather not know, our good Robert has always preferred to look the other way."
"This matter must not be rushed," Eddard said carefully. "Everything must be handled with restraint."
The realm already faced trouble both within and without. Across the Narrow Sea, fleets might already be gathering. If King's Landing descended into bloodshed and chaos, their enemies would seize the opportunity without hesitation.
The children of their former foes had grown into adults.
When those men finally raised their swords of vengeance, both he and Robert would regret it.
"That was Bran's life they tried to take," Catelyn said sharply, anger flashing in her eyes. She could not understand why her husband was hesitating.
Eddard looked at her.
"Do you remember the war against Greyjoy?" he said quietly. "Our enemy now is far more troublesome than Great Lord Balon. I cannot allow King's Landing to fall into disorder first."
"My lord, listen to me," Littlefinger said as he drifted toward the table and pulled the dagger free.
"War brings too many things no one can predict. If you were to lead an army across the Narrow Sea or march upon the Stepstones, who would control King's Landing then?"
"Lannister," Eddard said, the word leaving his mouth like something bitter.
It was entirely possible. If he marched abroad while the capital remained behind him, anything could happen. And when the dust finally settled, he might find himself forced to bow before the Lannisters.
Better to secure the realm from within first.
"I've met the King's bastard," Littlefinger continued. "The boy once hung me from a catapult to frighten me. But what of it? Beneath that rough exterior, he is nothing more than a foolish youth drunk on honor, spending his days chasing wine and women."
"Besides, Varys told me a little secret. Among the horselords, the most powerful of them all, Khal Drogo, is preparing to attack Myr."
"The horselords?" Eddard was startled.
"Yes, my lord. Otherwise, why do you think that bastard still hasn't launched his attack? His fleet outnumbers ours two to one."
Littlefinger smiled with quiet satisfaction.
"The Horselord, Khal Drogo, will never allow anyone to insult the honor of the Dothraki. This is a rare opportunity, Lord Stark. Opportunity is like a window. It does not stay open for long."
"Yes, my lord," Catelyn said, urging him on. "If you know there are traitors beside Robert and still choose to ignore them, that would be a betrayal of your friend."
"No matter what we do, the risk is enormous," Littlefinger said. "It could even be treason. Accuse Robert? Absolutely impossible. The silent executioner would take your head."
"As for our Queen, unless you can find real proof and convince Robert to listen…"
"We have proof," Eddard said.
"We have this dagger."
"This?" Littlefinger turned the dagger over in his hand with casual interest.
"My lord, it is a fine blade. And fine blades cut both ways. The Imp will simply claim the dagger was lost or stolen during his stay at Winterfell. The assassin he hired is already dead. Who could prove whether he speaks the truth or not?"
Littlefinger lightly tossed the dagger back to Ned.
"My advice? Throw it into the river and pretend it never existed."
Even as the words left his mouth, Eddard realized his mistake.
What could a dagger truly prove?
One piece of evidence was far from enough.
Eddard loathed Littlefinger. Of all the men in the world, this was the one he least wished to work with.
Yet he had no better option.
He had no choice.
"To be honest, Lord Stark, I've always found the Starks rather dull. But then, your wife is Catelyn, and that changes things. For her sake, I'll keep you alive. I can refuse Catelyn nothing." Littlefinger smiled.
"I told Petyr about our suspicions concerning Jon Arryn's death," Catelyn said. "He agreed to help you uncover the truth."
To Eddard, that was hardly welcome news. But they did need help, and Littlefinger and Catelyn had once been as close as brother and sister.
"Would Varys know as well?" Eddard asked.
"Varys's spiderweb stretches across the world," Littlefinger said with a smile. "And if he knows everything, it won't be because I told him."
"My time is short," Eddard murmured.
Four matters weighed on his mind. The first was preparing Robert for the coming war across the Narrow Sea. The second was Jon Arryn's death. The third was the secret revealed in Stannis's letter. The fourth was the attempt on Bran's life.
Aside from the first, all three seemed tied to the Lannisters.
"What should I do?"
He turned the question over again and again in his mind. Pretend nothing had happened and wait until the war was over? Or use this narrow window before war began to deal with the Lannisters first?
"Forgive me for speaking bluntly, Lord Eddard. Instead of worrying about a fire that has not yet risen across the Narrow Sea, you should worry about the bloodshed that is much closer at hand. Leave Varys to me. But the Lannisters..." Littlefinger clasped his hands together. "You will have to guard against them yourselves."
"Then we deal with what stands before us first," Eddard said at last.
The wild boy across the Narrow Sea and the remnants of the Dragonlord had not yet brought the flames to his door, but the Lannisters were already sharpening their knives.
Eddard thought of many things at once. The Mad King dying on the floor of the throne room. Jaime's gilded sword stained with blood. Jon's sudden death. Bran's fall. The attempt on Bran's life. What had happened to Arya that day. The Queen's quarrel.
"My lady," Eddard said, looking at Catelyn, "there is no use in your staying here. You must return to Winterfell at once. More assassins may come, sooner or later. Whoever is behind this, they do not want Bran to live."
"I had hoped to see our daughters."
But both Littlefinger and Eddard refused her. The Red Keep was not safe.
Littlefinger had the sense to leave the Starks some time alone.
"Don't take too long. The Hand and I should have gone back to the city already."
Catelyn stepped over to Littlefinger and took his hand.
"Petyr, I will never forget your help. When your men came to find me, I did not know whether I was falling into the hands of friend or foe. And instead I found not only a friend, but a brother I had lost many years ago."
Littlefinger smiled.
"My lady, I'm a sentimental man. Just please do not tell anyone that. I've spent years at court trying very hard to make people think I'm wicked and cruel. I would hate for all that work to come to nothing."
Eddard did not believe a word of it, but he still said politely, "Lord Baelish, I thank you as well."
After the door closed, Eddard looked at his wife.
Perhaps deceit and cunning were the true nature of King's Landing, but his own nature was still Winterfell.
"The moment you get home, send letters in my name to Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover. Order each of them to send one hundred archers to reinforce Moat Cailin. Two hundred archers will be enough to stop any army trying to march north through the Neck. Instruct Lord Manderly to hasten repairs to White Harbor's defenses and make sure the garrison is fully manned. And from now on, I want you to keep a particularly close watch on Theon Greyjoy. If war breaks out, we may have great need of his father's fleet."
At least in military matters, Eddard's thinking remained precise and orderly.
With Moat Cailin secured, White Harbor strengthened, and Theon held as a hostage, Winterfell would at least be prepared in those respects.
"War?" Fear was written plainly across Catelyn's face.
"Things will not grow that dire," Ned assured her, pulling her into his arms again.
"The Lannisters show no mercy to the weak. Aerys Targaryen proved that well enough. But unless they command the strength of the entire realm, they would never dare march against the North. I must keep playing this fool's masquerade and pretend that nothing is wrong. Do you remember why I came here, my dear? I must find proof that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn."
Eddard understood where the North's strength lay. Soldiers of other lands were soldiers of summer, but the men of the North were soldiers of winter. Ice, distance, and natural defenses alone made the region nearly unassailable.
"If you truly find the truth," Catelyn said anxiously. The pain seemed to linger in her injured hand.
"The King is the highest judge of the realm," Eddard said firmly. "Once I uncover the truth, I will seek an audience with Robert."
He could only hope that his old friend still possessed some wisdom, and had not sunk into the foolishness he feared.
"And one more thing," Eddard added, his tone serious. "Do not, under any circumstances, provoke the Lannisters."
He had reached this conclusion after careful thought. If anything went wrong, it could bring disaster.
Two wars loomed ahead. One within the realm, and another across the Narrow Sea. He needed time to gather evidence, not frighten the enemy before he was ready.
"I trust you to see this done," Eddard told Catelyn.
He knew his wife loved their family deeply, but everything could collapse if she acted out of emotion. He wanted every step taken quietly. Only that way would he have a chance to withdraw if things turned against him.
...
North of King's Landing lay the Crabclaw Point.
The land there was barren and poor, covered with marshes and pine forests. The people of the Crabclaw Point were often called half-wildlings, yet no one doubted their ferocity or their skill in battle.
Inside a hidden cave on the peninsula stood many warriors. Some were middle-aged men missing arms or blinded in one eye. Others were boys barely grown. There were even fierce women among them.
They carried different surnames, but they all shared one thing in common.
They were the defeated.
There were no proper suits of armor, no fine swords. Only rough chainmail or leather armor, and a handful of battered weapons. The defeat in the war had fallen heavily upon the Crabclaw Point, leaving its people poor and bitter.
Mortimer Boggs drew his sword. Behind him stood several crates filled with neatly stacked armor and weapons.
Mortimer Boggs looked over the ragged yet stubborn people of the Crabclaw. Once, they had fought beneath the banner of the true dragon. And in that war, they had been utterly crushed.
His squire stepped forward and unfurled a beautiful banner.
A brand new quartered standard.
A warhammer.
The true dragon.
A slave breaking his chains.
A pack of wolves.
"I believe you have all heard the news," Mortimer Boggs said. "The Princess now has a betrothed. They are preparing to cross the Narrow Sea and make war upon the traitors."
"But that Gendry… is he Robert's bastard?"
"No matter. There is only one throne. If he wishes to claim it, he must overthrow both the Lannisters and the Baratheons. That makes him our ally."
"Fight for the quartered banner!" Mortimer Boggs shouted.
"Fight for the quartered banner!" the crowd roared back.
Mortimer Boggs nodded with satisfaction. Even if the true dragon was gone, the war itself had never truly ended.
"Old Arryn is dead, but the traitor Tywin still lives," Mortimer Boggs said, raising his sword. "What should we do?"
"Fire and Blood!"
"Fire and Blood!" the people of the Crabclaw roared.
"Let the Lannisters regret the day they crossed our path!" Mortimer Boggs shouted.
A soldier beside him handed him a pine board carved with Tywin's name. Boggs swung his sword and split the board cleanly in two.
"When do we move?" someone asked eagerly. "When the ships arrive?"
"Not yet," Mortimer Boggs said, shaking his head.
"For now we have a more difficult task. Choose the most innocent and clever children, those who did not take part in the last war. Those already serving as sellswords will move first."
"We are going to the Riverlands."