PART II: The Great Game

The Tower of the Hand

300 AC

"What did Baelish tell you?"

Jon sat back in his chair, keeping his voice lowered so that only his father could hear. He wasn't sure if anyone was watching them. "That Lord Arryn passed away while speaking with the Spider. Supposedly of heart failure, though his body was tense, completely still when it happened."

It was far after dark in the Red Keep. Most had gone off to their chambers, new guards had cycled out onto the night shift, and the full moon shone its pale milky light through the windows of the Hand's Chambers. Jon saw it peering out a few inches above his father's right shoulder.

Across from Jon, Eddard Stark nodded grimly and ran his hand down his growing beard. There were flakes of salt beginning to spread in the thick forest of dark brown hair. "Aye, sounds like what Pycelle told me." He noticed Jon's raised eyebrows and elaborated. "The Grand Maester said that Jon's corpse was in a 'frozen' state when he was found. His hands and limbs were completely still, as if he were a statue."

"Poison?"

"I asked as much, though Pycelle said he wasn't aware of any poison that could do such a thing to a man. He said it must've been a failure of the heart, and mentioned how Jon Arryn was terribly stressed during his final weeks. After that, I took my leave."

"What do you think it was that killed him?"

Eddard gave out a tired sigh. "I would've gone with poison, but I don't know if such a poison exists."

Jon idly tapped his fingers against the desk. "So did I…" He paused. A stray question had entered his mind. "What if it's something that we didn't know about before? Something not found in the Citadel?"

It would only make sense. The Citadel surely did not know everything there was to know in the entire world. Jon knew that well enough from firsthand experience.

"Hmmm…" His father put his hands behind his head and glanced up at the ceiling in deep thought. "A poison we've never known about until now. Is it possible?"

Jon shrugged. "There is someone who might know more. Someone we've met."

"Marwyn." Realization had entered his father's gray eyes. "Do you think he'll know more?"

"Perhaps. He has more worldly experience than the Maesters of the Citadel. And he's one of the only Maesters I trust with my life."

Eddard nodded in agreement. "Send for him, then. The sooner we can get his expertise, the better."

Even if it would take weeks until the Archmaester made it to King's Landing-if he was available at all-they would soon be bringing onboard another ally. Along with the Tyrells and the two thousand men they already had in the city, things would shape up. Jon nodded his thanks and made a mental note to write a letter to Marwyn after the meeting.

Onto the next subject. "Littlefinger also mentioned a book that Lord Arryn was looking into. Said it had something to do with lineages."

"Aye, I know the one." His father nodded as he stood up and walked over to the bedroom portion of the Hand's Chambers. He'd picked up a terribly thick book on the long dining table and brought it back, placing it in front of Jon as he resumed his seat. The title written in bold was The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. "But it wasn't Pycelle who told me about it. It was Baelish."

Jon paused. "Really?"

"When I asked Pycelle, he apologized. Said he'd sworn he had the book earlier but couldn't find it." The corners of his father's lips tugged upward. "Littlefinger came to me and said it was in the Tower of the Hand."

"That's… outstandingly suspicious."

"I agree." His father leaned forward, posting his elbows up on his desk. "Someone is playing us for fools and wants us to read this book, it seems. But why?"

An excellent question. Jon flipped open the wide tome and began going through each of the crinkled pages. They felt dry and brittle to the touch as if someone had dumped a mug of coffee over each of the pages.

Why would Jon Arryn be interested in such a book? What reason did he have for searching through each of the lineages of the Great Houses?

Jon found recently folded corners towards the back of the book. He skipped all the way to those pages and saw the great black stag of House Baratheon. Beginning all the way from Orys Baratheon himself.

Jon glanced up at his father. "Did Baelish tell you why Lord Arryn was reading this book?"

"Not a word."

Jon looked back into the tome. His eyes wandered up to the corner edges of the following pages. There was something about the Baratheon bloodline that had Jon Arryn curious-if Jon Arryn was even the one to have folded the corners of these pages at all. Jon ran his eyes up and down the next few pages, passing by several centuries of Baratheon heirs and Lords' Paramount of the Stormlands.

Besides the ages of each individual lord or lady, and their dates of birth and death, the most common feature seemed to be their appearance. Black hair, blue eyes. Each man was big and strong as an ox. The women were large-breasted and thin at the waist.

There were some outliers, such as The Queen Who Never Was, Rhaenys Targaryen, who had lilac eyes. Some other Baratheons had black eyes, as well. Yet the black hair seemed to be a staple of the bloodline.

At least, all the way up to now. Jon narrowed his eyes upon reading the entry of Joffrey Baratheon and his royal siblings. Golden hair, green eyes. He knew precisely who those features belonged to.

Why was this important? Was Jon Arryn wondering why the royal children looked more Lannister than Baratheon? Hadn't this happened before?

Jon's own siblings looked more Dayne than they did Stark, with the exception of Arya. Black hair, purple eyes for the rest. Just like his mother.

Not to mention, Jon had remembered the looks of his niece and nephews on Starag and Rhaenys. Duncan and Arthur had adopted more traditional Mormont looks, yet Jeor and Thalia seemed Targaryen through and through.

So many questions… Jon Arryn clearly thought this was important. Why? And why was Littlefinger showing them this? Did he hope something would come of their investigation?

Was this why Jon Arryn was killed? Because he'd gone snooping around in some dusty old tome?

Jon sat back in his seat and stroked his beard. Meanwhile, his father took the tome and pulled it towards him. "What is it?"

"The Baratheon line… They all have similar features until Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen." Jon said with a low voice. His father glanced up with a raised eyebrow, likely having the same line of thought Jon had just gone through. "The corners of these pages are folded, too. This can't be a coincidence."

Something was nagging at him. What was it? The consistency. Of how often the Baratheons were born with black hair. Not a single one had strayed from that particular feature.

Jon watched his father as he read over the descriptions of the royal heirs. Eddard's eyes narrowed just the same as Jon's did. "Golden hair… Green eyes…" He trailed off and sat back in his seat.

For a moment, nothing was said between the two of them. Eddard looked up at the ceiling in contemplation.

What conclusion does Littlefinger want us to reach? Jon asked himself. He recalled Baelish's mention of the Street of Steel, and how Stannis Baratheon had been spending quite a bit of time there. Was this for the same reason? Was it related to this other lead given to him by Baelish?

That was when his father's gaze returned to him. "Robert has a bastard in the Vale. Mya Stone is her name. She's black of hair with blue eyes, just like Robert."

Jon felt his blood cool. "Who was her mother?"

"A peasant girl from Redfort Village." His father said. "She's not the only one. Before the Greyjoy Rebellion, Robert sired another bastard child on Delena Florent named Edric Storm." He scratched the back of his head with a mild blush. "You've heard the story, right?"

"Aye," Jon nodded. Robert had supposedly carried Delena Florent, one of Selyse Baratheon's bedmaids at the time, upstairs to Stannis and Selyse's chambers. Edric Storm was conceived on the newlywed couple's bed. "What's his coloring?"

"Black hair and blue eyes."

Shit… Surely the royal children had to be some kind of fluke? After all, they were born of Baratheon and Lannister stock.

The treacherous thoughts had entered his mind, but what if they aren't? What if they're not Baratheon at all?

No… That couldn't be right. Why would the royal children not be of Robert's blood? Why would the Queen…

The Queen. Cersei Lannister did not seem warm to Robert, at least not from what Jon had seen of them during his previous visit to King's Landing. But love was not needed to create children. If Cersei could not produce heirs, then she would be replaced. It was as simple as that.

If Robert's ancestors were consistent enough with the features of black hair and blue eyes, and Robert's own bastards seemed to have them, why was it that his trueborn children did not at all have the Baratheon look?

A dark line of thought was threatening to take root in his mind, one that bordered heavily on treason. Treason to what? Three bastards who aren't of the King's blood?

And what proof was there besides an old dusty tome? After all, the Lannisters seemed fairly consistent with their features as well. Who wasn't to say that Lannister blood was not stronger than Baratheon blood?

"There must be some sort of explanation…" Eddard ran his hands down his face in a tired fashion. "There's no chance…"

"...That the Queen's children are bastards?" Jon asked.

His father glanced up at him sharply. "We cannot simply jump to that conclusion, Jon."

"Yet surely this seems… off to you?"

"It does," Eddard sighed. "And that's what worries me. We came here to find out the truth behind Jon Arryn's death and hopefully prevent the realm from devolving into civil war." He pushed the book away from him. "But this…"

"Perhaps this is why he died," Jon spoke in a low voice. "There's another lead that Baelish gave me. He said that Stannis Baratheon had been visiting the Street of Steel frequently before his departure."

"He mentioned something along those lines to me as well…" His father rapped his knuckles against the wooden desk. "You have a friend in the Street of Steel, this Tobho Mott, correct?"

"Aye, I do."

"Can you speak with him? Ask after Stannis, if he visited Mott at all." His father looked ashamed of his request. "I fear I cannot leave the Red Keep with you. It would look far too suspicious."

Jon shook his head. "Of course, Father."

Eddard gave him a thankful nod, though he still didn't seem comfortable sending out his nephew to do something for him. "Thank you, son." He smiled as he closed the book before the both of them and tossed it onto a nearby shelf. "Best to start your day tomorrow as if nothing had changed."

"We never had this conversation."

Marwyn,

I hope this letter finds you soon. My father and I have need of your expertise once again.

Jon Arryn suffered a curious disease of the heart when he died. Apparently, his body was completely tense.

It is a small detail, but one that I've been thinking about to no end.

If you are available, please make haste to King's Landing. You will be welcomed as a fellow brother-in-arms.

Your friend,

Jon Stark

The next day, Jon left the Red Keep after breaking his fast.

He'd taken the long road directly from Aegon's Hill all the way to Jaehaerys' Square. The soldiers belonging to both House Tully and House Lannister still remained precisely where Jon had last seen them almost two weeks prior.

With only a few Manderly guardsmen and Ghost at his side, he had an easy enough time getting past the other soldiers, making his way up the Street of Steel.

Jon had smiled by the time Tobho Mott's shop came into view. The tall four-storied building of timber and thick white plaster with the great stone barn behind it. There were thick plumes of black smoke flowing out of the chimney at its top.

He knew well enough that most lords connected to the royal family could afford to visit Tobho Mott. After all, the man was a smith of Qohor and often charged a king's ransom for his works. Jon felt a familiar warm feeling buzz inside his chest as he recalled the memory of the master smith forging his first sword so many years ago.

It would only make sense that Stannis Baratheon had visited the smith from Qohor since Mott was the best of the best. Worst case scenario, Jon would need to visit the other smiths on the Street of Steel to find out what Stannis had been looking for.

Jon spied the two stone knights that stood vigilant outside the master smith's shop. One had a helmet that greatly resembled a unicorn's head, while the other had one that looked like a griffin.

As he dismounted Bella, he turned to Ghost. "Sit,"

Ghost sat back on his haunches.

"Good boy," Jon rummaged through his satchel and procured a piece of jerky he'd taken from the kitchens. He held it out to the direwolf's mouth. Ghost gently took the piece of dried meat between his teeth and silently chewed on it.

"Stay here. I'll be back soon." Jon said as he patted Ghost's head. He nodded to the Manderly men-at-arms to stay put and then walked up the steps to the twin doors; one made of weirwood and the other of ebony. Both of the doors also had a mosaic that depicted a hunter taking down a mighty stag with his longbow.

Jon remembered standard procedure. He knocked on the door three times. Thud, thud, thud.

After a few moments, the door opened. But this time, Jon didn't see anyone standing in front of him. That was until he glanced down towards the floor.

Standing about as tall as his waist was a little girl about four years old. Her hair was more or less spun gold, and her eyes were pearly blue. She wore a fancy enough dress for a common girl. And when she'd glanced up at Jon, she gave him a toothy smile. "Hello!"

"Greetings," Jon smiled at the girl. "I don't suppose you know where Tobho Mott is, do you?"

The girl nodded eagerly. "Yep! He's in there," She turned and pointed down the long stretch of hallway behind her that led straight to the entrance of the stone barn. "He said that he's not taking any orders for today, though. And that I should chase away anyone who tried to come in."

"Did he now?" Jon asked. "I'm an old friend of his and I just have a few questions for him. Is it okay if I come in?"

"Only if you say the magic word!"

Jon stopped himself from snickering at the girl's defiance. She looked almost as bold as Arya. "May I please come inside?"

"Okay!" The girl stepped aside and skipped away from the front door. Jon walked inside the reception room for Tobho Mott's shop. Behind the main desk where the blacksmith's assistant would sit, the chair was empty.

"Where's Tobho Mott's assistant?" Jon had asked the little girl, who was now sitting on a nearby chair playing with some wooden dolls.

The girl perked up in her seat. "Mother?"

Mother? Jon thought to himself. The girl looked enough like Ruby, he supposed that she must've been Ruby's daughter. "Yes, your mother. Where is she?"

"Oh, she's just-"

"Tamara? Who are you talking to?" Jon heard the familiar voice call from the floor above. Light footsteps came down the stairs until he saw the very same young woman who he'd met years ago.

Ruby had aged well. She looked every bit the sparkling personality she was during his first visit to King's Landing. She beamed when she saw him. "Lord Stark! What a pleasant surprise! I heard you were in the city but-" She paused, probably remembering her role. "I do not intend to be rude, but do you have an appointment with Master Tobho?"

Jon shook his head. "Not an appointment, but I've come at the behest of my father, the King's Hand."

Ruby blushed in embarrassment. "Oh, dear! Is it urgent?"

"I just have a few questions for Tobho, nothing more. I can come back later if it-"

"Nonsense," Ruby waved her hand as if brushing the matter aside. "I'll get him right away. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you."

With that, Ruby had set off down the long corridor ahead of him, eventually making it toward the end of the hallway and pulling open the huge wooden door lined with iron.

On the other side of the room, Tamara was standing upright on a chair looking through one of the windows. There was childish amazement written all over her face. "Is that a snow wolf outside?"

"Snow wolf?" Jon asked. Ghost. "No, he's a direwolf."

"What's a direwolf?"

"Like a wolf, but about as large as a horse."

Tamara returned her gaze to Ghost, who was now licking his paws out for everyone to see. "Whoa…"

Suddenly, the tall wooden door at the end of the corridor burst open. Out came the familiar tall and lanky old man covered in soot. He tossed aside his sweat-stained smock and threw on his coat of black velvet as he marched toward Jon. "Aha, Jon Stark! Don't tell me you've gone and lost another sword, have you lad?"

"Not this time, unfortunately." Jon grasped the older man's arm tight and shook it like they were old comrades. When they separated, he patted the wolf's head pommel belonging to Sunfire. "I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me, though. They can wait, however, if you're really pressed for time."

The master blacksmith barked back a laugh and smacked Jon on the shoulder. "Not at all, my friend!" He stepped closer briefly. "Truth be told, I was hoping you or Starag came by with another project involving Valyrian Steel. All these fancy lordlings keep asking me for pretty sets of armor… Bah! What is it you wanted to know, though?"

Though he could tell the older man definitely wanted to tinker around with Valyrian Steel some more, Jon knew the blacksmith was simply being polite. As such, he decided to cut to the chase. "Did Stannis Baratheon come to visit you in the last few moons?"

"That he did, though he wasn't interested in my services as much as he was in my apprentice," Mott said dryly. "The man had wanted to ask the boy some questions about his mother. Said he might want to hire the lad as the resident blacksmith on Dragonstone sometime in the future. Not bloody likely though," He said with a scowl. "Boy can barely forge plate armor without fogging up the breastplate."

Questions about the boy's mother? Why in the Seven Hells would Stannis Baratheon care about some common boy's parentage?

"Do you mind if I speak with your apprentice?" Jon asked.

Mott scratched his grizzled beard for a few moments. He then turned to Ruby and nodded to the door. "Get the boy, will you?"

"Of course," Ruby bowed and made her way back to the other end of the corridor.

"Lad is about your age, I believe," Mott said with a wistful smile. "But that's besides. Don't tell me you've come south without good ole' Starag, have you?"

"We sailed from White Harbor with him, but he left us at Runestone. He should be somewhere in the Vale by now."

"Ah, well. Would've liked to see him again. And that axe," Mott grinned. "Tempest, he called it? Excellent weapon, that."

Jon smirked. "I thought you out of anyone would be the first to denounce it as inconvenient?"

"That's the point, though. It looks inconvenient, but it really isn't. Weighs about as much as a mallet and it's a bloody warhammer." Mott exclaimed. "And what about the new sword?" He asked, pointing at the wolf's head pommel on Jon's belt.

"Its served me well," Jon said. "Though it hasn't seen much action besides sparring matches."

"Who knows? Maybe you'll get the chance soon enough."

That was when the door opened again. Ruby led a young man, much taller than Jon, towards the two of them. Though he was covered head to toe in soot and sweat, Jon swore he'd made out a pair of deep blue eyes and a mop of wrinkled black hair. Not to mention, the young man was as muscled as the Hound.

Tobho Mott took on a sterner expression as he looked at his apprentice. "Gendry, this man is son to the King's Hand. He's come to ask you some questions about Lord Stannis."

Gendry, the apprentice, had looked rather meekly toward Jon, despite being taller than him. Jon wondered if Gendry had any combat experience or any practical experience outside of the smithy. He waited patiently for Jon's questions.

"What did Lord Stannis ask you about the day he came here?"

Briefly, Gendry had looked at Tobho Mott, who nodded so as to give permission. Then, his deep blue eyes swung back to Jon. "Lord Stannis had asked me about my mother. What she looked like, where she lived." He gulped. "And he wanted to know if he could take me to Dragonstone. I didn't want to go, though."

"And what did you tell Lord Stannis?"

"That my mother died when I was young," Gendry said. "She worked at an alehouse, and her hair was yellow."

That's it? Alehouse. Yellow hair. That was all Stannis wanted to know?

Jon got another good look at the younger man. He'd made the connection to his earlier investigation into Baratheon features, and with what his father told him of Robert's bastards.

He's another one of Robert's bastards. And his mother's hair was yellow. Even with fairer traits, a woman had a child with dark hair and blue eyes.

It was a sharp distinction from the royal children. They looked nothing like Robert, yet each of Robert's bastards was born in his image. The uncomfortable feeling in Jon's gut from the night prior had returned with swift vengeance.

"Thank you both," He smiled politely at Gendry and Tobho Mott. "You have no idea how much you've helped me. I don't want to take up any more of your time."

"Not at all," Mott shook his head. "Just be sure to let us know in advance next time, why I'm sure we can block out a few days for you in the coming weeks if you want to come back?"

"I'd be grateful." Said Jon.

Mott clapped his greasy hands together. "Excellent! Make it happen, Ruby." He said to his assistant, then turned back to Jon. "Well, come back soon, Lord Jon. Especially if you've got any more challenging projects for me."

Tobho Mott gave Jon one last wink before turning around and pushing Gendry back towards the door to the stone barn. A few moments later, they were back inside the foundry.

Ruby floated over to the reception desk and shuffled about some papers. She wrote down something on a slip of paper and put it into her tray. "We have you booked in for every third day from today. Is that acceptable for you, Lord Stark?"

"It is," Jon said with a thankful smile. "You've been quite helpful, Ruby. Thank you."

"Of course," She curtsied. "It seems almost yesterday that you came in with Starag, holding a pile of bloodied armor in your arms."

Those were the days. "Seems like years ago." He mused. "But I shouldn't keep you any longer. I bid you a good day, my lady."

"W-wait…" He stopped right in front of the twin doors, turning back around. Ruby was nervous, playing with her fingers. "I-If you see Starag… Could you tell him that…" She paused. "That I'm happy… that I'm doing well."

She blushed upon seeing his raised eyebrow. "It's just that… He always carries so much with him. I don't want him to think that he let me down."

Jon was touched by the sincerity in her voice. He'd glanced at the little girl who was playing with her dolls by the window and then back at Ruby. Jon knew Ruby had gotten married to a knight from House Massey about two years after the infamous last tour. Tamara must've been the result of their union.

"I can do that," Jon said kindly. "Take care, Ruby."

"And you as well, Lord Stark."

With that, Jon pushed open the twin weirwood and ebony doors and stepped back into the cold.

The moment Jon had left Tobho Mott's shop, he'd concluded that the Queen's children were not sired by Robert.

By the time he'd reached the Red Keep, his mind had already begun racing with suspicions of who their father really was.

It was more or less like searching for a needle in a haystack since the royal children looked every inch like the Queen herself. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen-all three of them with golden hair and emerald green eyes. All three of them were Lannister right to the bone.

Renly was immediately discounted. The children would've carried the Baratheon look, and Renly was not overly fond of the opposite sex. Jon had not failed to notice the man's longing glances at him during the Small Council meetings.

Baelish also didn't make the cut. Though he was helpful and willing to please, Jon knew that a woman like Cersei Lannister would have high standards-she would not be content with a lowly lordling from the Vale, even if that man was now sitting on the Small Council. That, and Baelish was neither strong nor skilled with arms.

Stannis had the reputation of being by the book and steadfastly loyal to his brother even if he'd been slighted by Robert on numerous occasions, so he was out as well. Besides, Stannis had also been investigating the strange appearance of the royal children himself. His sudden departure to Dragonstone only served to make Jon more suspicious of the Lannisters.

Besides them, there was naught else for Jon to consider.

How could something like this even come to pass? The Queen would've been guarded night and day by the Kingsguard. She'd need to pull a fast one over them in order to have a secret rendezvous with her lover. Or she would need to be in a place where she could get away without anyone noticing.

Was this the reason why Littlefinger had sent him to follow this trail of breadcrumbs? So Jon could put two and two together and discover that Cersei Lannister had fooled the Seven Kingdoms?

Surely, there was a motive for Baelish's decision. Did he believe Jon would take this knowledge and go running to Robert? Or simply that he would keep it to himself?

And should he even tell Robert at all? Jon had no reason not to. But he knew judging by Robert's history that he'd certainly have the royal children put to death. And Jon did not want their blood on his hands. They were innocent of their parent's crimes.

If he did tell Robert, fighting would break out-Tywin Lannister would not stand to see his grandchildren killed, and he'd no doubt be pegged as responsible for his daughter's actions as well. Jon and his father would be well protected by the some two-thousand men from House Manderly, and if the Lannisters made a break for it, the Tullys would no doubt aid them at the least, along with the Gold Cloaks.

By all means, the Lannisters held a piss-poor hand of cards. They were outnumbered here in King's Landing, and it looked more and more like they poisoned Jon Arryn-if he'd actually discovered the Queen's secret, it was more than likely that she'd had him killed.

None of the other kingdoms would stand for this if the secret got out. The Tullys would have an incredibly valid excuse to continue their crusade against the Westerlands, and the Vale would declare war against the Lannisters as well. The Stormlands would rise up under Robert, who would probably have the children killed along with their mother and target Casterly Rock. Dorne had a distinct dislike for the Lannisters, so they'd do nothing. And the Reach wouldn't care either way. Absolute chaos.

Incompetence and stupidity. The Lannisters were fucked if and probably when things hit the bottom line. Surely they'd have known that, though. So why put themselves in this position? And why make it this easy for anyone to figure out?

Jon considered it was far more likely that the Queen had put her house in a tough spot by not bearing Robert's children. But he supposed that, in the meantime, it didn't matter. He had no solid evidence to prove that the royal children were bastards begotten on another man. Jon decided that he'd speak with his father first, and then they'd make their next move.

Once he, Ghost, and the Manderly guards had passed by the great bronze doors to the Red Keep, Jon sent the men away back to the barracks while he went over to the stables. He dismounted and took up the reins, preparing to hand them off to an approaching stablehand.

As he did so, Jon heard a deep, scratching voice call out to him from the squat toad-like stableboy. "Lord Stark,"

Within a split second, Jon's hand was gripping Sunfire. Behind him, Ghost snarled dangerously at the stablehand.

The hooded figure held up his other hand in surrender and drew back his hood only slightly. Just enough for Jon to identify him as the Master of Whispers himself.

Slowly, Jon placed his hand on the silver direwolf pommel and kept a steady gaze on the Spider. "Varys? What are you doing here? I did not recognize you."

"That's very good, Lord Stark." The eunuch's voice had briefly returned to normal. "Forgive me, I did not wish to alarm you. But I cannot risk the Queen's spies reporting our meetings."

"Evidently not."

"Come, there's much for us to discuss, and so little time." Varys led the way to the stables, taking Jon's horse along with him. Reluctantly, Jon followed.

Once the Spider had tucked Bella into one of the stalls, he turned to Jon. "You and your father are in great danger, Lord Stark." He said gravely. "The Queen is fearful of you both, as Robert would sooner choke on a sword than harm either of you. And you hold great influence over her children. You recall the tourney your father had canceled?"

"Yes."

"The Queen and her kin knew of Robert's desire to compete in a tourney held in his close friend's honor. They would have had him killed on the field, likely in a melee competition. This would have come to pass had your father not intervened."

Jon raised a stern eyebrow. "And why tell me any of this? It's not like we're friends, and we've only been in King's Landing less than two weeks."

Varys pursed his lips. "Because here in King's Landing, Lord Stark, there are two kinds of people. Those loyal to the realm, and those loyal to themselves." He began. "I did not trust you both before, yet now I understand that you and your father are loyal to the realm. You seek what is best for the people."

"And you do?"

"I always have, Lord Stark."

Jon could not tell whether or not the eunuch was lying. The man was too good an actor to see through. "Assuming you're correct, why would my father and I be in danger?"

"Because you now know the Queen's dark secret, do you not?" Varys' grin was crooked. "She will not hesitate to defend her children, as any good mother would. Even if it means that you and your father share Jon Arryn's fate."

Jon felt his blood run cold. So the Spider was having him and his father watched. Probably heard about their conversation the night before. "You know how Jon Arryn died?"

The Spider glanced around his shoulder down the long hallway of the stables. No one was there. "It is a rare poison unlike any other found in Westeros or Essos. I believe it was taken from the far east, from lands we know very little about."

"And who gave it to him?" Was it you Spider? You, who was the last one to speak to him alive?

"That, I do not know." Varys had shrugged his shoulders. "If I did, I would have told your father. The girl who brewed the coffee from which he drank had gone from the kitchens that very same day. None of my little birds were ever able to find her."

Really now? "Coffee? You and Lord Arryn were speaking together the day he died, correct? What were you discussing?"

"Nothing of consequence, my lord. Only some whispers from the east coming from an agent of ours, Ser Jorah Mormont."

Jorah Mormont? Jon paused. That was Starag's brother, the one who began selling poachers to a Tyroshi slaver for gold. He'd get to that later. "What did he relay to you?"

"Daenerys Targaryen and her Dothraki army had conquered the city of Meereen in less than three days. I insisted that we have her dealt with accordingly, but Lord Arryn was against the action."

Jon Stark squeezed the direwolf pommel tighter, keeping his face a mask of stone. Daenerys Targaryen… My aunt… And at the head of a Dothraki army no less? Jon had heard rumors of a platinum-haired girl with a large army at her back and with three fully grown dragons… But surely she would've come to Westeros already if she had such resources at her beck and call?

After all, Aegon had conquered Westeros with three dragons. It would have been tremendously easy for Jon's aunt to do the same thing. And with a large army, she could quickly procure enough ships for her to sail the Summer Sea and across the Narrow Sea.

Remember, this eunuch wants to send you down this path. There's something he wants you to chase after. What doesn't he want you to see? He reminded himself. He could not trust Varys, not the same way Jon Arryn had done. "And you think the Queen had Jon Arryn murdered? Because he was about to find out her secret?"

Varys nodded. "Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis were asking questions. As you well know, Stannis had met with Robert's bastard son on the Street of Steel. And Lord Arryn had been pouring through that tome in his study." He clicked his tongue. "They were not careful enough, I'm afraid."

Jon clenched his fist. "Is there any proof of the Queen's treachery that we can show to Robert?"

"Perhaps…" The eunuch had paused. "Her Majesty does not tend to leave loose ends behind, much like Lord Tywin. But I am willing to assist you on this end, Lord Stark. I will see what can be done."

"I see." Jon patted his horse's head from outside the stall. "Thank you for warning me, Lord Varys."

The Spider gave Jon one last bow before walking past him and out to the entrance of the royal stables. Jon watched him as he went, until Varys stopped. "And don't forget, Lord Stark." He said in the scratchy, deep voice of the stablehand. "You must continue openly treating me with contempt."

Jon frowned. "Why is that, Lord Varys?"

"Because otherwise, the Queen will know. And you know what they say…" Varys paused.

"A lion still has claws."