Ned had thought himself well prepared for what he would find in King's Landing. As much as he would have liked to, he had not been so far removed from southron politics these last years. Lord Tywin was to blame for that. Nor was he a stranger to the memories the city was like to bring. The last he had been in King's Landing had been during the Sack, an event he could remember with near perfect clarity.
He could remember the bodies that had lined the streets. The bodies of old and young men alike dressed in Targaryen livery or golden cloaks. The way they had lain lifeless in the streets with their lifeblood spilling out of them. The bodies of innocents as well, women and children who had been slaughtered, men whose only crimes were defending their families. Ned could still see the running rivers of blood that turned the streets red and splashed as their horses ran through them. He could still hear the wailing of mothers who stood over their dead sons. He could still see them in his mind's eyes as they clutched bloodied corpses in their arms and stared fearfully up at them. It had crossed his mind then that they had been expecting the same from him. The carnage had only grown as they traveled closer to the Red Keep where the fighting was still ongoing.
There were some things that had remained unchanged from his previous visit, however. The sour smell that surrounded the city for miles remained, as did the general filth of the city. Beggars still called out for alms and children still screamed, albeit for different reasons. These things he had expected.
He had been prepared to fight a war different from the last, but a war all the same. He'd been summoned to the small council immediately upon his arrival and the problems had not ceased since. Instead of fighting mad Targaryens he was now fighting the members of the small council.
Lord Varys, who had switched sides at the flip of a coin following the rebellion. He had whispered words of treason to Aerys only to abandon him at the very end. Ned knew better than to trust in the honor of men who switched sides so painlessly. Pycelle was just as he had been when Ned last saw him.. He was a Lannister man then and likely remains so, Ned thought.Pycelle had betrayed Aerys and convinced him to let Tywin through the gates, and Ned trusted him not at all. Last Ned had seen Renly he had been but a boy, and now he was the very image of a younger Robert. He was friendly, and perhaps not as serious as the Master of Laws should be, but Ned had no qualms with him. He did not know him well, but a brother of Robert's was sure to be an ally.
Petyr Baelish another matter altogether. A part of Ned resented him for allowing Robert to drive the Crown into such deep debt, but he knew well how hard it was to say no to Robert. He knew nothing of Lord Baelish save what he had heard from Brandon and the little Catelyn had spoken of him. Ned supposed he had to trust him, as it was Littlefinger who led him to Cat.
Ned had expected the fanfare, the smallfolk who lined the streets and cheered for their King. He had expected the stench and the rot and the petty politics of court. He had not, however, expected to find his wife in a brothel of all places. Nor did he expect the puzzle brought to him by his wife.
He had thought the whole thing a ruse when Baelish informed him of his wife's presence in the city. When he found himself in a brothel he had lost his temper and held a knife to his throat, and it was not until Ser Rodrick stepped out of the shadows that he released the man.
Ser Rodrick had opened the door to the small room and ushered him in, remaining outside to stand guard. As soon as he stepped in Cat rushed forward wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ned," she breathed with a sigh of relief.
"Cat?" He held her at arms length and looked her over. She does not appear injured or ill, what is she doing here? "What is this? What's happened?" Something terrible must have happened for her to make her way south with such haste. Has something happened to the children? To Alysanne?
She shared a look of worry with Littlefinger before handing him a folded piece of parchment, the seal long broken. "It's from Lysa," she explained. "About Jon Arryn's death," her mouth twisted. "Cersei and Jaime Lannister killed him," she spat.
He unfolded the parchment and read it. Murdered. The very thought of it sent a shock down his spine. It had been one thing to think that his death had been quick and the will of the gods. But to be murdered? It did not sit right with him. He did not know Cersei well, and he knew Jaime Lannister to be a dishonorable man, but what reason did they have to murder Jon? "This cannot be true," he said.
"But it is," Littlefinger replied. "It was I who uncovered the truth."
He looked to Cat, still not quite sure of Petyr Baelish. She nodded. "Lysa would never take such a risk, and I've known Petyr since I was a girl. He would not lead me wrong."
Ned did not like the smirk that appeared on Littlefinger's face at her words. "If this is true I must bring it to Robert."
"I would not be so hasty, we need proof first. And to act rashly would put your children in danger." Littlefinger argued.
"You have no proof?" Ned said incredulously. "If you have no proof then how can you be certain?"
"I assure you, my lord, that what I say is true. But we need more if we're to bring this before Robert."
Ned read over the letter once more. "What reason would they have to murder him?"
Littlefinger raised his hands in defeat. "I do not know the full reason, but I suspect it has to do with his actions before his death. He was asking questions that he perhaps should not have."
Catelyn grasped his hands. "Be careful, Ned. Trust Petyr in this matter." Ned looked at Littlefinger warily. He is not an easy man to read, but Cat would never steer me wrong. He nodded in agreement. Catelyn smiled in relief. "Petyr has already agreed to help you uncover why. He says he knows those in the city who may know more."
The man in question stepped forward. "Not all of his household left with him, and I can point you in their direction. But not now. Please, take as long as you need. It has been some time since you've seen one another."
Littlefinger said his farewells to Cat and left the room. She took his hands and led him over to the small, cushioned seats against a wall. "Enough of the unpleasantness. Tell me of the children. How has Sansa taken to the south?"
Ned grimaced. The further south they had traveled, the more reserved his children had seemed to grow. Sansa had once been so taken with the s0ngs and stories of knights and princesses, and had once begged him to invite more singers to Winterfell. Instead of exploring the keeps they stopped at along the way or dancing the night away at feasts she had remained close to Arya and Bran. She hovered by Bran as he trained with the Kingslayer and by Arya as she cajoled the Winterfell guardsmen into indulging her. She was never far from either sibling. He had thought she would be more excited for court and feasts, but perhaps the trouble on the road had dampened that excitement. Troubles aside, it is not a bad thing that the three of them have grown closer.
"She's… I believe she misses you and Alysanne. And perhaps Lady," he said.
Catelyn tilted her head. "Lady? What happened to Lady?"
She must have left Winterfell before Alyn arrived. What truly happened that afternoon between his children and the Prince still remained a mystery to him. Joffrey insisted that Nymeria had lunged and nearly removed his sword hand and Arya told a different story. Arya insisted that Nymeria had been merely protecting her, and Ned did not like the implication that any of his children needed protection from Joffrey. It only brought what Alysanne had told him the night of her wedding to the forefront of his mind.
The only thing that either party agreed on was that the direwolves should return to Winterfell. He had expected tears and protests from his children and was baffled when they agreed. "They will be happier in the north, and who knows what stories Joffrey might spin in the future," Sansa had explained. That night, he had sent Alyn and a few other guardsmen north with the wolves.
"There was a small incident on the road. Nymeria threatened Joffrey and we all thought it best they return home," he said.
Catelyn nodded. "King's Landing is no place for a direwolf. What of Bran and Arya?"
Arya had taken to training more. Not nearly as much as Bran, but more than she had in Winterfell. Alyn had trained with her fairly often before he left to escort the wolves north, and Jory had taken his place. If not Jory then it was other young squires. He had, on more than one occasion, seen her train with Prince Tommen. Although he suspected that bored her as she never spent long with him. Tommen spends more time with Bran than Arya anyway, he thought.
Tommen and Bran seemed to be around each other quite often. Ser Jaime had begun including his nephew when training Bran and the Prince seemed better for it. When Bran was not busy with any duties required of him as Ser Jaime's squire and when Tommen could get away from Cersei, they often went and explored together. The Kingsguard was never far but Cersei protested all the same. Robert had only waved off and laughed at her fear of brigands and other criminals. "It's just as we used to do when we were younger, Ned. Gods those were the days," Robert had said.
Bran had once been excited to see the knights of legend and had dreamed of squiring under a member of the Kingsguard. He seemed less excited the closer they came to King's Landing. He spent no time with Ser Jaime outside of when he was required, and after the incident at the ruby ford asked Ned less of tournaments and battles.
"Arya is well. As is Bran, he's made friends with Prince Tommen it seems." Catelyn smiled before she grew worried once more.
"The Kingslayer, he does not mistreat Bran?"
"Bran has not mentioned anything to me, but I shall keep a closer eye on him," he clasped her hands in his. "The children have missed you. It would cheer them to see you."
"Would that I could. It is worrisome enough that Littlefinger knew I was in the city. I know not how he knew, I sent word to no one that I was coming."
Spies. The man must have spies throughout the city. A dishonorable practice. "Are you certain I can trust him, Cat?"
She nodded in reassurance. "He was a dear friend to me when we were children. He is a brother to me, he would never do me harm. And he will help you because you are dear to me."
And help him he did. Catelyn had left shortly after and Ned wasted no time in beginning his investigation. It had been hard to track down everyone that Jon Arryn had talked to before his death without raising suspicion. It was through Baelish and Baelish alone that he gathered this information and the thought troubled Ned. If he is leading me wrong I will not know it, he worried. As it was, Ned did not have the resources that Baelish did and could not have found what he was looking for without his assistance.
Ser Hugh had been arrogant and brusque, as most young knights often were. It had been Jory he had trusted to question him. There would be no reason for the Hand to question a knight of little standing, and if the Queen is truly responsible she is surely watching those who knew Jon. "He refused to talk to me, my Lord," Jory had reported. "I even told him you had sent me and he said you could come yourself." Ned had not been pleased that Jory had told Ser Hugh who sent him, but there was nothing to do for it now.
The serving girl left behind had only reported of his reading habits and his gruffness to his wife. His treatment of Lady Lysa had not been news to Ned, but the reading had. Jon Arryn had never been one for books, at least not when Ned knew him. And so Ned turned to the Grand Maester to find what had interested Jon so. A book of the lineages of the Great Houses was what Pycelle presented to him. What Jon would have wanted with such a book, Ned hadn't the slightest idea.
It was what the stableboy and pot boy said, however, that baffled Ned the most. Jon and Stannis had never been great friends and he could think of no reason they would visit an armorer together, let alone a brothel. The stableboy who claimed Stannis and Jon went riding together often, and while he could not name which brothel they visited, he did know which armorer.
Ned had hoped that a visit to Tobho Mott's shop would help to provide a more clear picture. Gendry Waters looked more like Robert than Renly did and he would bet nearly all his coin that he was one of Robert's many bastards. That Jon had an interest in Gendry did not surprise him. Even in the Vale Jon had gone out of his way to ensure little Mya, Robert's first bastard, was cared for. That he would continue the practice in King's Landing and ensure his illegitimate children stayed quiet and out of sight did not surprise him.
"What did you and Lord Arryn speak of? Did he come to buy armour from you?" Ned had asked Gendry.
"No, milord. He only asked after my mother. I'll tell you what I told him. She died when I was young, you see. She worked in an alehouse, she was blonde and pretty. That's all I know of 'er." Gendry shifted his weight and seemed uncomfortable at the questioning.
Ned left Tobho Mott's shop more confused than when he entered. What could both Jon and Stannis possibly have wanted with another of Robert's bastards? Perhaps he had been simply inquiring after his wellbeing? But could he have not sent his squire to do so? He began to think that perhaps Gendry had nothing to do with Jon's death, as well as Ser Hugh and the visit to the brothel.
The glaring, empty seat of Master of Ships still troubled Ned and he had yet to find any insight. There had been no ravens offering explanation and no household members left behind. He did not know Stannis well, but he knew him better than he knew Renly. When he broke the siege at Storm's End he had found a very dour man, and if Robert was to be believed he had been like that all his life. But he was also loyal and honorable and had served Robert well. Something must have frightened him for him to leave as he did. Ned knew that Stannis was not a man to scare easily. When he broke the siege and met with Stannis he had been horrified to find how close they had been to starvation, or much darker means of survival. No man who survives off of rats and booth leather for months on end is easy to scare. It was at the tourney of the Hand that Ned began to suspect what Stannis feared.
As much as he had protested the tourney Robert would not listen. Tourney's and whores and feasts were all Robert cared about, and Ned had to wonder just how much worse the Crown's debt would be if Jon Arryn had not been there to temper him. Knights from nearly every corner of Westeros had come to participate and make a name for themselves, and among them Ser Hugh.
It was in the tilt against the Mountain that Ser Hugh met his end and Ned's blood ran cold. It did not escape him that the Mountain was a Lannister man. How could it, when it had been the Mountain who had raped and murdered Elia Martell? But it had been Tywin who presented Robert with the Princess and her children, and Ned had no doubt it had also been Tywin who gave the order.
A mere coincidence. Ser Hugh said nothing to Jory of consequence and accidents in tourneys are not uncommon, he tried to convince himself. But a later conversation with Varys reignited his fears, when he noted that Ser Hugh had declined to return to the Vale with Lysa Arryn, and had perhaps himself been involved in Jon's murder.
The final pieces fell into place not a week later, and it was not through Lord Baelish. The day after the tourney ended Ned broke his fast with his children, something he had not had the time for in nearly a moon. He listened to Arya talk excitedly about Syrio Forel, the man he had hired to better teach her to use her sword. Sansa spoke of the friends she had made and her plans to share a midday meal with the Princess. But it was Bran who was his main focus. Bran, who had hardly spoken a word all morning.
"Bran, how have you liked squiring for Ser Jaime?" He focused on Bran and did not miss the way he tensed.
"It's just fine," he replied as he pushed the food around on his plate. This is not Bran. Once, he would have been ecstatic to squire for a knight of the Kingsguard. Even the Kingslayer.
"It was kind of him to offer to take you on as a squire," Sansa noted. Ned remained focused on Bran's face. Bran's grip on his fork tightened.
Ned grew worried at his son's distress. "Has something happened, Bran? Are you unhappy?"
Bran's head snapped up. "No! Nothing happened! I'm not unhappy!" Bran finished the rest of the drink that was sitting in front of him. "I'm late to the training yard, may I go?" Ned nodded and gave him leave and made a note to perhaps broach the subject later.
He would not have to, however, as it was that very evening that Bran came to him. His face was wan and he shifted nervously, unable to meet him in the eye.
"Bran? What is it?" He closed the book in front of him.
"Might I have a word with you?" Ned nodded and gestured to the seat in front of him. "Not here. Might we go on a ride?" Although it was late, Ned agreed. Never had he seen Bran so unsettled and never had Bran requested an audience with such seriousness.
They rode along out of the Red Keep and into the city, and Bran remained quiet. The further they rode in silence the more concerned Ned grew. Bran had never been a quiet child. It was not until they reached the King's Wood that he cast a wary glance over his shoulder at the trailing guardsmen. Ned waved them off and they continued to follow at a distance, well out of earshot.
"What troubles you so that you could not speak to me in my solar?" he asked.
Bran shifted on his saddle. "Do you promise not to be cross with me?"
Ned narrowed his eyes. What has the boy done this time? "That depends entirely on what you've done."
Bran rubbed the back of his neck and faced him. "In Winterfell, I saw something that perhaps I should not have. And you asked me about Ser Jaime and if I was unhappy, and I lied."
"You do not wish to squire for him then?" Ned had suspected as much. Once, Bran would have been unbearable in his excitement to be squiring for a knight of the Kingsguard at a real tournament. Ned had not heard one word about it. "And what could you possibly have seen in Winterfell?"
Bran once more glanced back towards the guards. "Just before we left, the same day Ser Addam gave me my sword. He sent me to find Ser Jaime."
Ned remembered that day well. It was the same day Robb had sparred with Joffrey with live steel. Ned had never been more furious with his heir. He regarded Bran carefully. He's nearly shaking in fear. What could have frightened him so? "I remember that day well. Go on, son. I will not be cross with you."
Bran took a deep breath. "I looked for him everywhere. And I found him in the First Keep with the Queen."
Ned furrowed his brow. "The First Keep? What were they doing there?"
Bran's face flushed red. "They were- I don't-" Bran averted his eyes and looked down at his saddle. "They were having… relations."
Relations? Relations, what does he mean by that? "Relations?" Ned's heart jolted and his stomach sank. "Do not tell me you mean what I think you mean, Bran."
Bran gave him a forlorn look. "Aye, I do. I'm sorry, father." He hung his head and his shoulders slumped. "I should have come to you."
"Perhaps, but you're telling me now."
Bran looked at him in a panic. "You can't tell anyone! Ser Jaime said he'd kill you all if I told, Sansa and Arya, mother and Robb and Alysanne, everyone! But I couldn't keep it in anymore. I didn't want to lie to you, I promise!"
Ned shushed Bran and looked over his shoulder but the guardsmen gave no indication that they had heard. "It is not your fault, lad." Ned clenched his teeth. To threaten a boy of fourteen with the murder of his family. "Is there anything else?"
Bran shook his head. "It's been awful! I can hardly look Tommen in the eye, it was his mother I saw! And he looks so much like Ser Jaime. What am I to do, father?"
Ned looked over his son. He has kept this to himself for some time. It is no small secret and no small burden. "This burden is no longer yours. I will handle it, Bran." Bran nodded, and they continued on in silence.
The Kingslayer and the Queen. It was treason and a sin, could it be that Jon Arryn stumbled upon them? Stannis as well? Robert must singlehandedly fund half the brothels in this city and they did not stop him. The Queen gave him his heirs, would they truly risk angering Tywin Lannister with such accusations when the Crown owes him so much money? He would not respond kindly. Ned thought over everything that had happened. The visits to the brothels, the interest in Gendry Waters, the book of lineages. It couldn't be.
They returned to the Red Keep and Ned walked Bran to his room. "I am not cross with you," he reassured him once more. "You did a brave thing, bringing this to me." With Bran safe in his rooms he hurried to his solar, where the large book of lineages of the Great Houses remained. He flipped open the book to the Baratheons.
Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon, golden haired. A lion, not a stag.