In King's Landing, the council chamber in the Red Keep was a sea of black. Everyone was dressed in mourning. The Queen Dowager wore a high-collared black silk gown, the bodice sewn with hundreds of dark red rubies running from her throat down across her chest. Each gem had been cut into the shape of a teardrop. At a glance, it made the Queen Dowager look as though she were weeping blood.
Those damned traitors. They would never bow from a single letter alone, Cersei thought irritably, her clear green eyes full of anxiety. The Queen Dowager sat at the head of the long table, which was still piled with papers, candles, and stacks of sealing wax.
Only three principal councillors remained in the chamber now. With the former Hand, Eddard, thrown into prison, the brothers Renly, Master of Laws, and Stannis, Master of Ships, both fled, and Ser Barristan, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, far away across the Narrow Sea, the Small Council had been badly drained of men.
Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin, sat on the Queen Dowager's left. Grand Maester Pycelle sat on the other side of the table, while Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers, smelling faintly of flowers, drifted about nearby.
"Look at our council chamber," the Queen Dowager said in displeasure. "All the traitors are gone. It feels pitifully empty now."
"We may be fewer in number, but every lord here is loyal to the throne and has sworn fealty to the new king, Queen Dowager," Littlefinger said lightly.
"Your words are pleasant enough to hear, but I would rather hear them from Eddard and those three Storm traitors."
Varys shook his head. "Lord Eddard's heart is iron. He cannot be moved." He rubbed his soft hands together, making a helpless, resigned gesture.
"Would it not work to threaten him with that girl?" asked the old white-bearded maester.
"I went to see him. He truly is a stone. I even brought a letter in the girl's own hand begging him, and it was useless," the Queen Dowager said with a low snort.
"We must deal with these matters separately," the old maester said. "Though Lord Tywin has been named Hand of the King, he is in the Riverlands, at war with House Tully."
"Damn it." Cersei recalled that stern, long face. Eddard in a white linen doublet embroidered with House Stark's direwolf on the chest, a black wool cloak fastened at the throat with the silver hand badge of his office. Black, white, and gray. The three possibilities of truth.
"The key is that our version has already been spread by the little birds. Eddard Stark, Stannis, and Renly are traitors," Grand Maester Pycelle said, lifting his aged head. "We heard Lord Eddard swear more than once to King Robert that he would protect the young Prince and treat him as his own son. Yet the moment the king died, he tampered with the will on the road, tried to summon the great lords, and sought to help others steal the throne that rightfully belongs to Joffrey."
"That may be so, but I fear we will not persuade many."
"We do have evidence, Your Grace," the old maester said solemnly. He picked up a letter. The parchment was badly torn and stained with dried blood, yet the broken wax seal plainly bore the direwolf sigil. "We found this on the captain of the Stark household guard. Lord Eddard had even prepared another letter. It seems he feared his earlier messenger might not be reliable enough. The recipient was the king's brother, Stannis. In the letter, he invited him to come to King's Landing, secure order, arrest the Queen and the heir, seize the city, and wait for the new king's return."
"My lords, Lord Eddard is indeed a traitor, but Stark's soldiers may still be of some use to us," Varys said with a smile.
"What am I supposed to do? The old wolf refuses to bow. Should I let Eddard die inexplicably in his cell, or cut off his head?" Cersei said anxiously.
"My Queen, even if Lord Eddard refuses to yield, the Stark hostages remain very useful," Pycelle murmured.
"That little Stark girl has already written many letters urging Lady Catelyn and Eddard's children to preserve the peace of the realm. Sansa says she is being properly cared for by us, that she is safe and well, with food and clothing in abundance, and she invites them to come to King's Landing on the day of Joffrey's coronation to swear fealty."
"The letters have already been sent, but I doubt the northerners will believe them. That girl is very important. She probably knows something of what is going on, so we need to keep close watch on her," Cersei said. "And the other one?"
"We truly haven't found the other one," Littlefinger said with a snort. "But I've already spread word that she is in our hands, and the Gold Cloaks are searching everywhere."
"Good." The old maester nodded. "Since she is the seed of a traitor, I fear the roots of betrayal may already have taken hold in her heart. She may be a sweet and likable child now, but what will she be in ten years? No one can say."
"She takes after her mother, not her father. You've seen her hair," Littlefinger countered. "Her hair and eyes are exactly Catelyn's from back then."
"But Sansa's letters may not be enough to sway her brothers. Wolves are dangerous," Littlefinger stressed. "The key is still Eddard himself bowing and surrendering. That way, we can destroy those dreadful rumors and that black-hearted will, and force the Starks to submit as well."
"Easy for you to say, Lord Petyr. Lord Eddard is determined to cling to what he believes is truth, like a stone. I do not think even the little girl's pleading will move him."
"Then what do you suggest we do?"
"I do have an idea. Why not imitate Stark's hand and produce Stark's own confession and admission of guilt? With real and fake mixed together, the contents of the letter would be written by us. That should be enough to make the lords believe in Stark's treason, and that bastard's black heart," Varys proposed.
"An excellent idea," the Queen Dowager agreed at once, feeling her own brilliance shining in her mind. "If we can make a false letter, why not make a false Stark as well? As long as he begs before the king, everything will look all the more real."
"That is far too bold," the old maester said, his eyes widening. "This idea..."
"At present, this is the way forward," the Queen Dowager said bluntly. "I happen to think it is very good. Do not underestimate me."
"Lord Eddard has come to King's Landing only rarely, hardly at all in the last ten years. And how would common folk understand what the Hand truly looks like, especially from a distance? We only need those vulgar masses to know that he surrendered and confessed," Littlefinger said, stroking his chin.
"I truly do not think this plan is workable, Queen Dowager," the old maester could not help saying. "There is too much uncertainty in it. I would rather seal Eddard away in the black cells. If you truly mean to do this, I still advise discussing it with Lord Tywin first."
"Lord Pycelle, I am the Regent Queen Dowager, and I am a lion as well. My brother and father are fighting in the Riverlands, and I will fight here in King's Landing," Cersei shouted at Pycelle. "You need only see to the letters and the ravens."
"Yes." The old maester trembled and said no more.
"If Tully has already bent the knee, and we can keep House Stark steady, then the only great house I need worry about is Arryn, yes?" the Queen Dowager said, turning to Littlefinger.
"Rest easy," Littlefinger replied. "Lysa is madly in love with me. Besides, the Vale has not sent out its armies."
"What worries me most right now are the Three Storms," the old maester said. "They are far too close to us."
"We know that. What matters is how we respond, old maester," Queen Dowager Cersei said uneasily. The Lannister armies were now fighting in the Riverlands, and what she feared most was Stannis seizing the chance to land while the lions, trout, and direwolves tore at one another. Stannis was a capable commander, and he would show no mercy. There was no one in the world more frightening than a man of absolute rigid justice, and Dragonstone lay far too close to King's Landing.
"He will certainly be raising troops," Varys said. "But I think Stannis is even more likely to clash head-on with Renly. Renly wants Stannis's great fleet, and Stannis wants the Stormlands."
"Then that is our opportunity," the Queen Dowager declared. "I want an Eddard to appear, to stand before everyone. Then he will confess his wicked treason, order his heir to lay down his arms and honor Joffrey as the true king, and denounce Stannis and Renly as ungrateful rebels. That will be enough."
"I believe I can think of something," Varys said, his perfume wafting through the room.
"I trust your cleverness, Lord Varys," the Queen Dowager said with a nod. "As for the real Lord Eddard, we will keep him beneath the Red Keep for now."
"There is one more matter. That bastard," Cersei said angrily.
"He's beyond our reach, Your Grace. Even if he covets the throne, it'll be some time before he can land."