ECHOES OF THE PAST

CATELYN

"Any progress?" asked Catelyn to Maester Luwin once again. She had lost count of the number of times she had asked him that question in the last few days, but she couldn't think of anything else.

"Nothing for now," the old man replied solemnly. "And at this point, it's unlikely there will be any. It's already a great miracle from the Seven that he woke up at all."

"Yes, but... it wouldn't be the first time someone who suffered serious injuries fully recovered. He could still..."

"My lady," Luwin interrupted in the kindest tone he could muster. Catelyn knew him well enough to sense that even he was starting to lose patience with her. "It's practically impossible for young Brandon to regain mobility in his legs. He'll be a cripple for the rest of his life. It's best to accept it sooner rather than later, so we can move forward."

"Move forward?" The word left a bitter taste in Catelyn's throat. "Tell me, what will become of my son now? He can never become a knight, father children... He'll be the laughingstock of the North."

"That may be so... but there are other things he could pursue. He could perfectly become the High Septon or a maester at the Citadel. Or even an advisor to his grace. From what I could see, he got along well with Prince Tommen. Please, do not despair."

"I... it is as you say, Luwin," Cat admitted, the enormous weight on her shoulders finally getting the best of her. "It's just that... it hurts. It hurts to see him like this and know it's all my fault. If only I had watched over him, he would be, he would be..."

"No one foresaw what could happen, lady Stark. We all allowed him to climb and play freely in this castle. Do not torment yourself more than necessary, my lady; your children still need you. All of them."

"True. Have the appointments been made yet?" Catelyn asked. The headache that had haunted her since Bran's fall returned once more. She should rest, as Maester Luwin had advised, but she had been unable to sleep for days, no matter how hard she tried.

"Robb took care of them many weeks ago, my lady, long before young Brandon woke up," the old man reminded her.

"Of course, of course..." It had been very inappropriate of her to leave Robb and Luwin alone with the responsibilities of the castle, but along with a great sense of guilt, she also felt a certain pride that her son could take on those responsibilities. Soon, very soon, he would have to behave like the Lord of Winterfell. Especially if his father stays in the south for a long time. Oh, Ned... "Is there any urgent matters to attend to?"

"We still need to review the accounts, my lady. The new steward has taken a look at them, but it would be better if you personally reviewed them."

"Did the royal visit cost us that much?"

"Yes. And not only that, but King Robert's entourage also had a considerable appetite, and that's not even considering that their stay was prolonged beyond expectations." The maester avoided mentioning the reason for the delay, but Catelyn couldn't help but feel a sharp pain in her chest when she remembered Bran lying on the ground.

"The summer is ending, but there is still plenty of time to replenish the pantries with the last harvest, not to mention the autumn crops. Until then, we can buy the surplus from Lord Manderly," said Catelyn.

"That's what I thought too. But there's a small problem."

"What is it this time? Did a snowstorm ruin the last harvest? I don't remember there being one lately, but I admit my mind hasn't been too focused in the past few weeks..."

"No, no. Nothing like that. Lord Manderly sent a raven a few days ago, informing us that grain prices from the south have increased more than usual in recent weeks."

"Can we afford the expense?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then there's nothing more to discuss." It might just be a ploy by the Lord of White Harbor to increase revenue before winter sets in, but she was too tired to try to figure it out at that moment. "Any other matters?"

"None that require your attention, my lady," the old man said. He was about to leave, but Catelyn interrupted him before he could exit the room.

"Summon Robb and Ser Rodrik to my presence immediately, Maester. And also Theon Greyjoy. This matter may concern him as well."

"Concern him? What is this about, my lady? You don't mean..."

"My sister's letter, aye. Perhaps pain and sorrow have overwhelmed me these days, but I've had time to reflect. If Lysa is right, and if my conclusions are correct, then Ned, Sansa, and Arya may be in grave danger. We all might be," Catelyn said with serious gravity.

Ser Rodrik was the first to arrive, followed later by Robb and Theon Greyjoy, all of them seemingly carefree about the news Catelyn was about to share with them. Bran's recovery seemed to have brought light back to the halls of Winterfell, but she still couldn't shake off the dark clouds that filled her mind. When Robb closed the door, she began to speak.

"Swear to me now that what I'm about to tell you will not leave this room," Catelyn said with utmost seriousness.

"What is it, mother? Is it about Bran's accident? Do you suspect of someone?" asked Robb.

"If my suspicions are true, your father and sisters could be in grave danger. But first, swear to me that you won't tell anyone," she insisted.

"I swear," said Robb, nodding. At that moment, it was as if Ned was standing before her.

"Lord Eddard is like a second father to me. I swear I won't say anything," Theon said.

"You have my word," said Maester Luwin.

"As well as mine," Rodrik Cassel added.

"My sister Lysa believes that someone murdered her husband, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King," Catelyn informed them. "She swears it was the Lannisters, but I wouldn't rule out Lady Hresvelg or someone from her retinue either. I've realized that Jaime Lannister wasn't part of the hunting party on the day Bran fell. Neither was Lady Edelgard or that wretch of Vestra. They were all here, in the castle." The room fell into a deathly silence. "I don't think Bran fell. I believe he was pushed."

The shock was reflected on the faces of those present.

"The very idea is monstrous, my lady," said Rodrik Cassel. "Even the Kingslayer would hesitate to kill an innocent child."

"Are you sure?" said Theon Greyjoy. "I have my doubts. The Imp was here just a few days ago. If we send riders, we might still catch him before he crosses the Neck."

"That would anger Lord Tywin and put them on alert. We need to be certain before making a move like that," Catelyn replied.

"And what about Lady Edelgard, mother? What makes you suspect her? I admit the Lannisters always made me suspicious, but she remained discreet during the entire visit. Why would she want to kill Bran?" Robb asked, thoughtful.

"Your father has always doubted the loyalty of the Lady of Dragonstone, and you should too, Robb. After the war, your father told me about monstrous things she did during the siege of Storm's End. Someone capable of that cannot be trusted."

"If that's the case, shouldn't we warn Jon? He might be in grave danger. And also your sister, Theon."

"I'm sorry to say, but I wouldn't trust my sister with this matter. She seemed too loyal to Lady Edelgard."

"And Jon Snow shouldn't know anything either. He's a soldier of Dragonstone now, not of the North, Robb. Don't treat him like a brother." Catelyn knew her son and his half-brother had a very close relationship, but the sooner he forgot about him, the better. She would have preferred Ned had sent him to the Wall and rid them of any claims he might have to Winterfell, but it hadn't been possible.

"But Jon..."

"It pains me to say it, Robb, but your mother is right in this matter," Maester Luwin said. "We don't know where Jon Snow's loyalty lies, and until we have evidence of it, it's best to keep silent. We're talking about the brother of the queen and the wife of the king's brother. We can't rush or we would be verging on treason."

"Jon would never betray us. I trust him more than anyone in the world. Let me warn him, mother. If not him, at least father. He needs to know the danger he's in at the south," Robb insisted.

"No, and that's final," she concluded. Robb was almost a man, but he still needed to learn whom he could truly trust, or his future vassals wouldn't be so kind. "Your father already knows the information from my sister; it was one of the reasons he accepted. There's nothing more we can do to help him, except prepare."

"Prepare, my lady?" asked Ser Rodrik. "Surely, you don't mean...?"

"That this could lead to war?" she finished. "The gods forbid, Ser Rodrik. But we can't dismiss the possibility."

Silence fell again in the room as Catelyn's words settled in their minds.

"We should warn our vassals. At least the Glovers and the Tallharts. They should be prepared to defend Moat Cailin, if necessary," Robb said with authority. Catelyn nodded. It was a good idea, and it was necessary for Robb to start asserting his authority over his subjects.

"If there's a war, you should know that it will take weeks, even months, to mobilize the northern levies," Maester Luwin mentioned. "And we've received unsettling messages from the Wall. Apparently, there's a King Beyond the Wall uniting the wildling tribes."

"The Wall has stood for thousands of years," Theon Greyjoy said. "It will withstand a few more."

"Perhaps, but many of our lords won't be pleased if a few wildlings manage to reach their lands. And my old bones can feel that this summer is ending. It's not a good time to go to war," Ser Rodrik added.

"In these matters, gentlemen, you are much more knowledgeable than I am," Catelyn said as she opened the door to leave. "I trust all of you, especially you, Robb, to proceed as you see fit. Until then, discretion."

She closed the door and went up the stairs to the top of the tower, where Bran's room was. She had considered moving him to another room, Arya's or Sansa's, but she wasn't entirely convinced yet. Maybe in a few days. She didn't want to get used to the absence left by the girls. Besides, the giant Hodor seemed to have no complaints when he carried Bran in his arms, and if he did, he couldn't express them.

Inside the enormous room, she found Bran sitting by the window, while at the other end of the room, Old Nan was busy with her sewing, holding the needles with her bony fingers.

"How are you, Bran? Are you in pain?" Catelyn asked. The life that once shone in her son's eyes had completely vanished, and his gaze looked distant and dim.

"No. I don't feel anything, mother," Bran replied bitterly. "The crow lied. I can't fly, not even run." When he woke up, Bran had insisted over and over that a three-eyed crow would teach him to fly. At that moment, she almost believed her poor son had lost his mind along with his legs, but in the end, it turned out to be just a dream. However, it seemed very real to Bran, and he kept insisting on it. She hoped he would soon get it out of his head.

"All crows are liars," Old Nan nodded while she continued to move her needles ceaselessly.

"Lord Tyrion's saddle is almost ready, Bran. You won't be able to fly, but soon you'll be able to ride a horse like anyone else."

"Yes... That would be nice. Today I had another dream, mother. There were dragons."

"Dragons disappeared more than a hundred years ago," Catelyn reminded him. Bran had always loved tales and fables, but this was starting to be too much.

"There were four of them. Three flew together, one black, one golden, and one blue like the sea, or maybe it was green, I can't quite remember. Another one, white like the moon, was chasing them. I do remember that. They were flying towards the sunset, but then a shadow swallowed them. What do you think it means, mother?"

"They're just dreams, Bran. Dragons no longer exist, and neither do talking crows. You can't fly, but you have to be strong. For Robb and Rickon, and also for your sisters and your father when they return. And for me too. Can you do that, Bran?"

"Yes, mother. I'll try." He didn't sound entirely convincing, but it was enough for her.

JAIME

She's taking too long.

Jaime watched as the sun illuminated the city while he looked out the window of the room. King's Landing sprawled before him in all its splendor. He knew the city like the back of his hand. The marble dome of the Great Sept of Baelor crowned Visenya's Hill, surrounded by its seven towers. From its square, the Street of Sisters ran through the city to the top of Rhaenys's Hill, the other sister of Aegon the Conqueror. Above it, stood the Dragonpit, or what was left of it as it had been consumed by fire a hundred and fifty years ago. Going down the hill was Flea Bottom, the smelliest quarter of that wretched city, which was saying something. But the smell that permeated the air today wasn't of pigs and excrement but of smoke and ashes.

The riots had started three days ago, the same time it took Janos Slynt and his gold cloaks to quell the situation. The repugnant man with a toad-like face had assured the entire court that it would only take him a few hours to calm the spirits when the first protests began. As the sun set that day, the gold cloaks had been driven out of Flea Bottom, unable to control the situation. It had taken two more days, a good amount of Stark and Lannister reinforcements, and dozens of dead and wounded to achieve that uneasy calm. In his opinion, Robert or Ned Stark should have beheaded Slynt for that failure, but that wasn't their way. That permissiveness was what had led Aerys' reign to rot, and it was slowly but inevitably repeating itself before his eyes. Well, that was a problem for other men, not his. The only time he had cared, his name had been tainted for eternity. It was due time to let Robert and Ned Stark get their hands dirty for once. He heard the creak of the door.

It's about time.

The door opened, revealing the figure of his beautiful and beloved sister. She smiled at him, as she always did, but this time, her smile was bitter, and it couldn't hide the anger in her green eyes.

"You're late," Jaime said, smiling as Cersei closed the door behind her.

"They delayed me," Cersei said. Even angry, she was beautiful. "Tanda Stokeworth. That useless old woman keeps insisting that I find a match for her slow-witted daughter. As if anyone in their right mind would accept. Well, that and asking me for a loan, like Lord Gyles did yesterday."

"Are they also affected by Stark's new taxes?" Jaime laughed.

"If they were the only ones... It seems that everyone in this kingdom is incompetent," Cersei said. "Things are getting out of control, and I can't handle Robert as before, not with Ned Stark here. We need to act."

"Act? Do you mean-?"

"Yes. It's time for Joffrey to ascend the throne."

The idea of seeing Joffrey on the Iron Throne didn't particularly thrill him, but it was a necessary evil if that was the price for seeing Robert dead. He would have gutted him years ago for what he did to Cersei if she hadn't told him otherwise. But it seemed that his sister had finally grown tired of waiting. Besides, he wasn't so blind as not to see what Cersei truly intended by getting rid of Robert.

Good for her. If she wants that monstrosity of a throne, she can have it, as far as I'm concerned.

"Stark has suspicions," Cersei murmured as he took her in his arms. "He's been searching for Robert's bastards. And he's been snooping around. Pycelle..."

"That old man won't tell him anything. He's loyal to father." He proved it so in the past. He kissed her. It was a light kiss, but Cersei soon returned it more passionately, devoid of tenderness, only fury and hunger.

"I was close to getting rid of Stark with the Targaryen girl," his sister said between moans. "He was going to leave, Pycelle told me so. I don't know what made him change his mind. Maybe his honor allows him to kill children, after all."

Jaime kissed her again, silencing her. He threw her onto the bed, lifted her skirts, and lost himself in her flesh. He felt as if his heart was beating at the same time as hers. He felt the warmth of her skin and the moisture of her sweat. Inside her, he felt complete.

After they finished, his sister rolled to the side of the bed, pushing him away.

"Perhaps you're overthinking it, dear sister," Jaime sighed, resuming the conversation they had left unfinished. "Perhaps Stark knows nothing and is only investigating Arryn's death."

"Maybe, but if there's even a slight chance that he'll discover us, I can't let it pass," she replied. Her sister had disappeared after the passionate lovemaking, and now the queen was speaking again. "Besides, Arryn also suspected. Perhaps his death will lead him to us."

"If that's the case, I'm sure you'll make sure he follows in his foster father's footsteps," Jaime said.

"That will only raise more suspicions. Whoever killed Jon Arryn didn't do us any favors, I assure you." Cersei stood up and straightened her dress as he remained lying on the soft mattress.

"I still think you're worrying too much, dear sister. Whatever Jon Arryn knew died with him."

"And if he had accomplices? Stannis talked to him a lot in the days before he fell ill. Both Varys and Littlefinger told me the same. If he suspects, his wife, that sly fox, will too. They might even be the ones who put that idea in his head."

"Neither Stannis nor Edelgard are in the city anymore, so that's one less problem for us. Besides, Stark and they weren't exactly getting along," Jaime couldn't help but chuckle this time.

"They might not be in the city, but they left Vestra behind, along with almost all of their guards. And not to mention the thousands of men they have on that damned island, right in front of our doorstep. We need more men."

"Father won't be thrilled with the idea. And besides, didn't you want discretion?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"We can justify it with the recent riots. Our safety is not guaranteed; father will understand."

"You underestimate our dear father," Jaime reminded her. "He'll want more explanations than just a few angry poor folks. And that will only put Stark on alert. He'll seek help from Renly or Vestra. Or even from Littlefinger if he's so naive. The Gods know he doesn't hold us in high regard since the little stunt you pulled with the wolf."

"That beast nearly tore off my son's arm." Our son. "You should have killed all three of them, just as I told you, without waiting for what Robert would say."

"From what I've heard, Joffrey asked for it," Jaime said, getting up from the bed after a while. He knew Joffrey was as much his son as Cersei's, but Robert had been more of a father to him, which was already strange. Sometimes he imagined Joffrey lying on the floor, bloodied, with his arm ripped off, and he felt no emotion at all. "You have to be less permissive with that boy, or he'll become the new Aerys."

The slap from Cersei resounded in the walls of the room, leaving his right cheek as red as a tomato.

"Don't you dare say that about my son, Jaime. I won't tolerate Joff being spoken of the same way as the Mad King," she said, filled with anger.

"If you don't want that to happen, you should make him behave like a prince from time to time. Or at least like a normal person, Cersei. In Winterfell, he was nearly left with a lifelong scar by the young Stark heir, and at the Trident, he finally got what he was asking for. They respect him because they respect Robert, but once you get rid of him, that will be over," Jaime retorted, unable to contain himself. He loved her, but sometimes his sister could be too proud, and it blinded her to what was right in front of her, especially when it came to their firstborn.

"Joff is just a child. When he ascends the throne, he will do as I tell him. So don't worry. Now I just have to figure out how to deal with that fool without raising suspicions."

"When you find out, let me know," Jaime said, leaning back on the windowsill, looking again at the smoking houses of Flea Bottom. "Although the easiest thing might be for him to take a stroll through the city. As I see it, he won't take three steps without someone trying to stab him."

"Don't be so sure. If we are to trust Varys' words, the common folk still hold Robert in high regard although not as much as before. They'd rather blame the Spider himself, the Northerners, or even us. Anything rather than think their beloved King Robert is a pathetic fool," the queen replied. "Anyway, it's time for you to take your role in this matter, Jaime. With Stannis gone, there's a vacancy on the Small Council. I've been doing my best to persuade Robert, and I can assure you that soon you'll be filling that position."

"A seat on the Council? What for? You already have Pycelle for that. Ruling is not my thing, sister."

"Pycelle is a useless old man, more so with each passing day. He hardly noticed what Jon Arryn was doing right under his nose for months. I need someone I can trust, and who is in full capacity."

"Then propose father or someone else. I have no idea about ships, and besides, I don't want it," Jaime complained.

"It doesn't matter what you want. Didn't you ever listen to father's lessons? Each one must do what is best for the family. I've had to endure that drunkard in my bed for more than a decade. Surely you can put up with this little thing."

Jaime said nothing as Cersei gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and left through the door, leaving him alone in the room once again. He took one last look at the city he had saved from destruction years ago. One last thought crossed his mind before following the same path as his sister.

And when you get rid of Robert, Varys, and Stark, dear sister? When only we remain, who do you think they'll blame?

EDDARD

"No one would have expected the situation to escalate so quickly, my lords. I swear it on my honor," complained the Commander of the City Watch before the Small Council.

"A good commander would have anticipated it, Slynt," Ned reminded him. He disliked the tone with which the man spoke to him, especially after causing so many problems.

"Perhaps Daemon Targaryen could have, my lords. And surely he would have had more men, much more loyal ones. And dragons, yes, that too."

"If you can't maintain the king's peace, why do you continue to hold that position?" Lord Renly asked, mercilessly. If the Hand's tournament had revealed certain deficiencies in the city guard, the recent riots left no room for doubt.

"I agree with Lord Renly on this matter," added Ser Barristan. "In all my years of service to the late King Aerys and now to King Robert, I have never witnessed such displays of public disorder. Not even during the war."

"Anything else to say in your defense, Ser Janos?" Ned asked. The truth was that finding a replacement at this point was the last thing he wanted, but it was better than Slynt's incompetence continuing to wreak havoc in the city.

Janos Slynt's jowls swelled like those of a toad. "What I need is more men. I appreciate your help during the tournament, my lords, but it's of little use if it only lasts a few weeks. It's not that the city guard has more men than before, on the contrary, we have even fewer after the recent... budget cuts."

"Are you questioning the recent decisions of the Council?" Pycelle coughed.

"According to my little birds, much of that gold ends up in the pockets of the Gold Cloaks' officers. Perhaps it could be used for another purpose," Varys remarked.

"My officers are good men. The best. Without them, maintaining discipline among the soldiers would be impossible, and they deserve a good salary for that. You can replace me if you wish, Lord Stark, but you won't find anyone better, I guarantee it. Yes, that's right," Slynt said, red with indignation.

"You have one more week, Slynt. If you haven't restored order in this city, heads will roll. Starting with yours," Ned said. He was tired, and the session of that day had only just begun. He hoped that at least the rest of the items on the agenda would be simpler, although he sensed it wouldn't be the case.

"I thank you, Lord Hand," Slynt replied with a bow. "I swear you upon my name, peace will reign in the city. You'll see."

When the Commander left the room, Eddard turned to the rest of the Small Council.

"Lord Renly, I want you to bring me a list of men to replace Janos Slynt first thing tomorrow morning. I want that man out of the City Watch before the end of the month."

"Lord Arryn and my brother Stannis proposed replacing Slynt with someone else a few years ago, but it didn't come to fruition, Lord Stark," said Renly, not fully convinced. "I'll do as you ask, but don't be surprised if Janos Slynt ends up staying with us for much longer than you expect."

"I'll talk to Robert if necessary. This cannot continue like this," Ned said.

"Janos Slynt isn't any more corrupt and inept than many of the men in this city," said Littlefinger. "But if that's what you wish, I'll too be happy to recommend a few names for the position."

Months passed, and Ned was unsure to what extent he could trust Petyr Baelish. On one hand, what he had heard about him didn't make him seem trustworthy, but on the other hand, he couldn't fault his actions so far. His assistance with the debt issue had been commendable, and without his guidance, Ned would never have been able to find Robert's bastards. The truth was, he didn't know what to make of the short man. For now, he might be one of his few possible allies in this city, but that didn't mean he had to let his guard down.

"If this matter is concluded, I would like to move on to the next topic, the new member of the Kingsguard. It has been too long that the king's protection has been entrusted to one less than needed. Since—" began Ser Barristan before Lord Renly interrupted him.

"Since my sister-in-law split Ser Boros's head open on the Kingsroad. Let us hope that the new wearer of the white cloak is more capable than the last, or my brother's safety will be in serious doubt."

"I told the king long ago that the man was not suitable to protect him or the royal family, not that I mean to offend the late Ser Boros. And if I am honest, I believe he's not the only one," said Ser Barristan.

"If the Kingsguard is unable to perform its duties, the responsibility lies with its Lord Commander, with all due respect," coughed Maester Pycelle. "Would you say the same of your brothers in the times of the Mad King?"

"No. They were good men, skilled and loyal. I take my share of the blame, but the king has the final say. I cannot try to change a man's nature, no matter how much I train him. And training anointed knights is not as easy as training green recruits, Grand Maester. They are proud and difficult to instruct," Selmy replied.

"Be that as it may, let's hope my dear brother doesn't repeat the same mistake with Ser Boros. Have you thought of any names, Ser Barristan?" Renly asked.

"Yes. The tournament has been a great opportunity to observe promising knights, although I regret that many of them may not be willing to join the Kingsguard. Our vows are quite restrictive, after all."

"Have you thought of any that might be willing to accept?" Ned asked.

"Ser Loras Tyrell and Ser Robar Royce, although young, are skilled knights, and they are third and second sons. They might be willing to take the vows. Also, Sandor Clegane is a fierce warrior, but he's not a knight. Moreover, his reputation is rather... notorious."

Having another Lannister lackey surrounding Robert didn't sit well with Ned, although at least his loyalty was clear. He knew practically nothing about the Knight of Flowers and Yohn Royce's son. Highgarden had been loyal to the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion but had remained unwaveringly loyal to Robert after he took the throne, even contributing ships and soldiers during the war against the Greyjoys. On the other hand, the Royces had been faithful allies of the Baratheons and the North since the time of King Aerys, but now that Jon Arryn had died, Ned wasn't sure how solid the old alliances remained.

"In any case, it may be prudent to consider some more candidates. Lord Vestra also proposed me some names, and he told me he could find more promising men with a little more time," Barristan continued.

"All of them from the Black Eagles, I'm sure," said Varys.

"I will propose Ser Loras and Ser Robar names to Robert," said Ned. "As you say, the vacancy has been empty for too long, and we mustn't postpone it any further. If the king rejects the candidates, or if they decline the offer, we will look for other possible names."

"Sandor Clegane is also a fierce warrior and has been a sworn guard to Prince Joffrey for many years. Perhaps the king should also consider him for the position," said Pycelle.

"I will take your words into consideration, Grand Maester. But I wouldn't want to leave the prince unprotected, especially in these difficult times," Ned responded. "I will also take this opportunity to try and persuade Robert to finally appoint a new Master of Ships."

"Lord Stannis's departure was very... sudden and painful, my lord. His place will be difficult to fill. It's understandable that the king needs time," said Varys. Ned wasn't sure to what extent the sadness in the eunuch's voice was feigned, but he it wasn't quite convincing. Stannis wasn't very well-liked on the Council from what he had observed, not even by his own brother.

"Stannis will return, give him time. It's not the first time he's been angry with Robert's decisions or the Council's. Why do you think he left his guards at the castle?" Renly said dismissively.

"The relationship between Lord Stannis and His Grace has never been particularly close, Lord Eddard," commented Pycelle.

"If by that you mean they would kill each other if left alone in a room, then yes, I suppose it's not particularly close," Baelish interjected, causing Renly to laugh and Varys to chuckle.

"Lord Stannis has served loyally all these years, although it is true that disagreements with His Grace have been constant, especially regarding Storm's End," confirmed Ser Barristan.

"It always bothered him that Robert gave Storm's End to me instead of him, but it's not a big deal. I'm sure he'll write to you within a month apologizing and coming back to us," said Renly.

Ned considered the possibility of Stannis' return to the Council. It was true that his return would help him investigate the matters he and Jon Arryn were looking into, but he wasn't sure if it was worth the price. The day he departed for Dragonstone, Stannis had made sure to take most of the Royal Fleet docked in King's Landing with him to his island, where the rest of it was. Furthermore, citing the absence of a Master of Ships, he had refused to return the ships and crews, despite Ned's insistence. And to top it all, Ned was certain that the recent disturbances in Flea Bottom bore the unmistakable mark of Constance von Nuvelle, even though he had no conclusive proof of it. And if that wasn't enough, the Mittlefrank Opera had announced that they would be performing free theater plays in the area over the next few days to calm the spirits, as well as many charity proyects. He couldn't deny their help, as the Mystical Songstress efforts had proven to be more effective than the constant presence of the Gold Cloaks, but her involvement only raised his suspicions of whose hand was behind the riots.

It was an obvious pressure mechanism for Stannis to regain his position, and Robert would have to accept his demands, whatever they were. Ned wasn't certain, but everything seemed to point to an increase in his power within the Council or perhaps more privileges for his small army. Either way, he hoped to restore a sense of normalcy without the realm having to make too many concessions. Maybe if he spread rumors that Robert was considering naming a new councilor... When you are willing to change things, Lord Stark, let me know.

"Your brother resigned from his position quite implicitly, Lord Renly. If he truly wishes to return, I sincerely hope it's on better terms," Ned said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and I hope by then Robert will have returned from his hunt."

"If he did whatever he pleased," Renly retorted with a smirk, "my brother would stay in the kingswood until we all die of old age. But I imagine it won't be long; he'll be back as soon as he hunts something."

"It seems they found the white stag, or what was left of it," Varys said. "Apparently, the wolves got to it before His Grace. Now he's determined to hunt a monstrous boar that lives deep in the woods. But the Royces have returned this morning, in case you want to speak with young Ser Robar."

"Thank you, Lord Varys."

Much later, when the session ended, Ned nodded politely and left without saying a word. Ser Meryn Trant glanced at him from the corner of his eye, always silent and vigilant. The others continued talking, but the door closed quickly, silencing their voices.

He had crossed the courtyard heading towards the Hand's Tower, ignoring the people who stared at him, those he saw, and those he didn't. The castle was full of eyes and ears, each with their own intentions. The heat and humidity had caused him to start sweating without noticing. He greeted Arya and Syrio Forel before they finished their training, as well as Jory, Alyn, and the rest of the men guarding the Hand's Tower. Then, he headed to his chambers. He closed the door and was about to lie down and rest for a while when a voice interrupted him from the back of the room.

"I must admit I was expecting you earlier, Lord Stark. I was starting to worry," said the sinister voice. There, seated in the corner at the back of his chambers, shrouded in shadows, was Hubert von Vestra. Ned looked at him incredulously. He couldn't fathom how he had overlooked the presence of this man in the room. And why hadn't his guards stopped him or even alerted him?

"I could have you executed for being here, Lord Vestra," Ned said, once his surprise gave way to anger.

"I'd love to see you try, but something tells me you won't," said the sinister man, seemingly unconcerned about the threat.

"Don't push your luck. Who let you in? And don't lie to me, I know none of my men would let you near here without me present," Ned asked, astonished, as he reached for the dagger at his belt.

"I'm not so sure about that, hehe, but that wasn't the case. I just invited myself in," Vestra replied with courtesy. That made him even more sinister, if possible.

"The Red Keep has paths known only to ghosts and spiders". The phrase Varys had told him echoed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I don't mean to take up much of your time, Lord Stark, and even less to threaten or scare you. There are certain things you must know, although I may have underestimated you. It seems you might already be aware of certain matters," the man continued.

"What do you mean?"

"'Lineages and histories of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms, with detailed descriptions of noble knights, ladies, and their offspring'. It's the same book Jon Arryn was reading before he died. Have you already figured out why?" Vestra asked.

"No," Ned admitted. He had a feeling this man could tell if he lied, so he decided not to beat around the bush. He hoped his interlocutor would be equally honest.

"A pity. I almost believed you had. You have the bastards, you have the book, and, of course, you know that Jon Arryn's death was as natural as Ser Hugh's. Would you like me to tell you, or would you rather connect the dots on your own?" Vestra said.

"If you have something to tell me-"

"Robert has no legitimate children," Hubert interrupted before Ned could finish.

Ned couldn't respond. The revelation hit him like a hammer to the chest. The moment those words were spoken, he knew instantly they were true. Everything fit together. "The seed is strong", the delirious Jon Arryn had repeated before he died, and now it was clear what he meant by that. That was why he had been investigating the bastards and the book. He had poured over the book dozens of times, trying to find something, and now he saw it with crystal clarity. He didn't even need to look at it again. All descriptions of Baratheon descendants matched: black hair. It didn't matter who the parents were, except for three.

"Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella…" Ned stammered.

"They are Cersei Lannister's children, that's undeniable. Hers and Ser Jaime's, as you're probably starting to imagine."

"Abominations born of incest... It can't be possible. Twelve years. How is it possible she hasn't had children with Robert?"

"There are many ways, but don't take my word for it; ask our dear Grand Maester. He can give you more information. Although I wouldn't do that if I were you, unless I wanted the queen to know as well."

"By the gods." He didn't want to believe it, but with each passing second, he connected more threads and everything started to make sense. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Tell them? Whom would you have me tell? You've doubted me and my lady since the day you met us, Lord Stark. And like you, many others. Besides, if Robert had no legitimate children..."

"Stannis would become the heir to the throne." That explained why Stannis hadn't said anything. Robert would have never believed him, and the entire realm would have accused him of being ambitious. It would only have served to solidify Cersei's betrayal. What was worse, only a few minutes earlier, he would have been among those accusing Stannis. How could he have been so blind? Had honor and pride blinded him so much?

"I thank you, Lord Vestra, and I deeply regret the way I've treated you and your lady," Ned said. "And Lord Stannis as well. It was he who confided in Jon Arryn, but they didn't have time to act, did they?"

"Uh, yes… indeed." The apologies seemed to have surprised him. "Someone found out about his investigation and decided to silence him. The same could have happened to my lord. You must be careful as well."

"I have to tell Robert, and I have to get the children out of here before he finds out." Robert could be merciful. He had had no problem pardoning Ser Barristan, Varys, Pycelle, or even Balon Greyjoy. But this was a dagger in his back. He wouldn't forgive it, just as he hadn't forgiven Rhaegar or his family. In his rage, he would kill them, and he would damn himself forever. He couldn't allow that.

"The Lannisters have almost two hundred men in the castle. And I'm sure they have some more bought. Not to mention Janos Slynt and his thousands of Gold Cloaks. Once you tell Robert anything, we'll be dead men. Perhaps even before, if you're not careful. The walls of this castle are made of thin paper," Vestra said.

"I'll replace Slynt in the next few days. The City Watch will be loyal again, and then I'll tell Robert," Ned replied, trying to convince himself more than the pale man. An idea struck him like lightning.

"Lord Vestra. How long would it take for one of your men to reach Nuvelle-Enbarr?"