Jon Arryn

He went back to the window after Ned's man had gone, staring with unseeing eyes at the Red Keep and the city and bay beyond it. Ned never ceased to surprise him. How had he known? Or rather, what did he know exactly? His warning had been as clear as day to Jon, but then it had been couched in the cautious language of Ned Stark when he had spoken to him with wagging ears present. 'I have heard of great interest in the Westerlands of late concerning matters involving the payment of debts. Sadly I have also heard of accounts of poor seasoning from there and would advise you to be careful with regard to your meals.'

In other words Ned was saying that his life was in peril, possibly from the Lannisters. Which was interesting, because if what he feared was true, his life really would be in peril from the Lannisters.

He sighed and went back to the desk, where he picked up the letter from Ned, read it one last time to sear the words into his memory and then held it over a lit candle in one corner of the room, which kept lit for that very reason. Once the letter was well alight he dropped it into the grate and watched it burn as he thought very hard and very fast.

If Ned had somehow stumbled onto news of Lannister chicanery then he had less time than he had thought. He had hoped that he could deal with this horrible mess in less than a month, via some careful negotiating, subtle hinting and threats of outright force. Tywin Lannister would be furious, but would also be intensely angry with the Queen for placing herself in such an embarrassing position. The implications for House Lannister would be interesting, but that was not what he was concerned about.

No, he was worried about House Baratheon, which was suddenly balanced on a knife-edge, caught between disaster and destruction. To outsiders the Royal Family was strong, with two healthy sons and daughter. He knew the truth however – that those children were pure Lannister, without a drop of Baratheon blood in them. Which meant that if Robert died tomorrow and the truth came out, his heir would be Stannis – who had only a sickly girl cursed with greyscale for children. The next heir was Renly, who needed to stop whatever he was doing with Loras Tyrell and settle down and get married as soon as possible. House Baratheon might desperately need Renly to get a lot of children. It was that or legitimise one of Robert's bastards, which would be dangerous enough as it was.

For a moment he wondered what it would have been like if it had been Ned on the Iron Throne and not Robert. He loved the man like a son, but Robert had not been a good king so far. He was a great war king, but in peacetime… he mentally shrugged and dismissed that thought. What was done was done. Robert was King and he would have to be protected from this hideous secret. He had little doubt what Robert's first reaction would be – blind fury and a wish to bludgeon Cersei to death with his Warhammer, followed by the Kingslayer.

Tywin's reaction would be war at once, a war that the Seven Kingdoms did not need, even though such a war would lead to eager Dornish participation, bringing them out of their prolonged silence and isolation.

The stakes could not therefore have been higher. Which brought him on to the other issue raised by Ned in his letter, which he pondered as he picked up a poker and used it to reduce the remains of the letter into a mound of ash. Good, there were no fragments. The Red Keep was a maze of passageways and blocked-off doorways and windows. He was pretty sure that Varys did not have any of his little birds in the Tower of the Hand, but he was not certain. So, important – and even non-important – letters were not read out loud, important documents were locked away and gossip was strongly discouraged. Not that that was a problem. His Valemen were loyal to him and Quill kept a close eye on them. There had been attempts to bribe Quill of course, but he had promptly reported them. The place was full of spies. Varys had his, Baelish had his own, even the Queen had some. They tended to be about as subtle as Robert's Warhammer, but they were there. Oh and then there were his own spies, who watched for watchers.

He replaced the poker and then stared at the ashes. House Baratheon wasn't the only great house that stood on a knife-edge. House Arryn was right there with it. He had one heir himself. No more, because the line would end with them if he wasn't . Lysa had had too many miscarriages down the long years and now everything rested on a boy. A sickly boy who was cossetted by his mother to the point where he was now seriously worried about them both. His son would have to learn to walk on his own at some point. The question was, would Lysa allow it? Would Lysa even allow Robert to ride his first horse? He doubted it. One day that boy would be Defender of the Vale, leading its knights out to do battle.

So Neds' offer to foster young Robert in the North was a welcome one. It would put his son in a place of safety with the one man that he trusted above all others apart from the King. It would also give him a chance to get to know his cousins and build up some valuable friends for the future. The concept of 'friends' was not something that Lysa seemed to approve of, and that was yet another reason send his son North. He pondered the matter a bit longer and then turned to the door. "Quill!"

The door opened after a moment. "My Lord?"

Jon beckoned him closer. "I have a task for you," he said quietly. "A very discreet one – my wife is not to be told about this."

Quill's eyebrow flickered upwards slightly as he approached, a sign that he was surprised. "I am yours to command my Lord."

"I am sending my son out of the city, to be fostered in the North. It's time he knew his cousins. You are to tell no-one of this. You are to pack his things and then wake him in the pre-dawn hours, before taking him down to the docks with me. I will go there now to make arrangements. I needed to talk to Lord Stannis anyway."

If any of this surprised Quill in any way he gave no sign of this. Instead he nodded seriously. "I will make the preparations tonight my Lord. Who will accompany him?"

"Two guards – men that you trust. Who amongst my wife's assistants can be trusted with obeying my orders on this?"

The man thought for a long moment. "As for the guards, let me think on this my Lord. Perhaps Willets and Rikson. As for your wife's assistants, Annah, my Lord. She has a good head on her shoulders. In fact the Lady Lysa has often scolded her for being too practical with regard to young Lord Robert."

"Good – then wake her first, have her wake my son and then leave as quietly and as quickly as possible."

Quill nodded and he could see that the man was bursting with suppressed questions. "Quill, my wife cossets the boy overmuch – I want to see how he does away from her for a time. And… I have been warned of a possible plot on my life." He whispered those last words, which made Quill jerk slightly, his eyes widening. "I know not who, or how, or why, but Lord Stark warned me and it is to him that I am sending my son. Lord Stark is to be trusted on this matter should… anything happen."

"I pray that it does not," Quill muttered grimly. "It shall be as you command my Lord."

"Good. Now" He walked over to his table and wrote a rapid letter, one that had been in his mind for some days now. "Please also send a raven to Runestone with this."

He found Stannis Baratheon in his office by the docks. It was not the splendid office that his predecessors had inhabited in the Red Keep, equipped with hot and cold running sycophants, but rather an old warehouse by the docks, guarded by grim-faced men in the livery of Dragonstone. It was there that Stannis could personally oversee to the ships of the Royal Fleet that were in Blackwater Bay, as well as to quickly respond to any threats to the Bay or warnings from Dragonstone.

Lord Baratheon was standing by his desk with a plan of some rigging rolled out, quietly talking to a heavy-set man with a greying beard and close-cropped brown hair, who was missing the first joints of the fingers on his left hand. Ah, Ser Davos Seaworth. Excellent. As Jon approached they both looked up from the plan. "My Lord Hand," Stannis said curtly, with a nod. "How can I help you?"

"Your pardon my Lords, I will deal with this matter," Ser Davos said quietly in a voice that came straight from Flea Bottom.

As he started to turn Jon raised a hand. "No, Ser Davos, I would have your council for a moment. Lord Baratheon I need some advice from you."

Stannis eyed him carefully. "On what matter?"

"On the matter of who the two of you might recommend for an urgent mission for me. I need to get a message to White Harbour. A message that will not be… intercepted by the wrong people and which must therefore go by ship." He sighed. "Along with a very important passenger. My son."

Stannis frowned slightly. "I thought that we were discussing the fostering of your son at Dragonstone. Why does he need to go to White Harbour?"

"I will explain in but a moment. However – I need a ship captained by a skilled seaman who knows when not to talk about his cargo. One whom you trust absolutely. I place myself in your hands on this."

There was the briefest sound of teeth grinding and then Stannis gestured at Ser Davos. "Then this is your man here. Ser Davos is absolutely trustworthy – I would place my life in his hands and I would not be wrong to do so."

The former smuggler flushed slightly. "You do me much honour my Lord."

"I simply state the truth," Stannis replied. "Young Lord Robert will be in good hands."

"When do you wish me to sail my Lord Hand?" Ser Davos asked.

"First thing in the morning. Can it be done?"

A frown crossed the face of the man that some called the Onion Knight. He was a good man, Jon knew, loyal and more than competent. Would that he had half a hundred of the man – the Red Keep would be all the better for it. "Then I will need to provision Black Betha at once my Lord. Luckily we have already watered her, as well as scrubbed her bottom. Low tide is… three hours before dawn, so we'll need to warp her out of the bay, given the wind as she blows now, and then anchor. I can send a cutter for your son's party to the second pier here. Will there be many?"

"My son, a nurse, perhaps two guards and one Jory Cassel, sent from Winterfell by Lord Stark. Plus my son's clothing and medicines."

Ser Davos thought for a moment and then nodded decisively. "That will be fine my Lord Hand. Once they are all on the ship we can be under way at once. Now – if that is all I must leave and arrange matters to our satisfaction."

"Thank you Ser Davos," Jon replied. "And my thanks to you."

"You are most welcome my Lord Hand . My Lord – should I return here afterwards, or to Dragonstone?"

Stannis stroked his chin for a moment. "Dragonstone I think. There is much to be organised there."

"Thank you my Lord," Ser Davos replied, nodded at them both and then left.

"A good man," Jon said with a smile. "And a loyal one you say?"

"There are none better," Stannis replied with what might almost have been a smile. And then he jerked his head at the nearest window. "Perhaps we should talk on yonder empty pier."

They did just that, striding out onto a pier that was in need of repair to make it safe for heavy cargo to be landed there. "I thought that we were reaching an understanding that your son was to be fostered at Dragonstone?" Stannis said through gritted teeth.

"I thought so too and I beg your pardon – certain matters have happened that you should be aware of. For one thing, I received a letter today from Ned Stark. It was couched in careful landing, but it warned me that my life is in danger, possibly from the Lannisters."

Stannis looked at him sharply and then returned his gaze to the sea that lay beyond Blackwater Bay. "How could Ned Stark know anything about what we have been discussing?"

"I know not. But obviously I am taking it seriously. Whatever Ned knows, he thinks that I am in danger and that the Lannisters are involved. Whether or not he suspects the same thing that we do is… unknown. But he also offered to foster my son, and the more I think about it, the more I am inclined to agree with him. I mean no disrespect to you. But if things miscarry then my son will be safer in the North than at Dragonstone, because it is more remote. And we need the North. My son will also need to meet his cousins there anyway."

A pause fell, followed by Stannis setting his jaw slightly and then nodding equally slightly. "Perhaps you are right about that. And… the safety of your son is paramount. Very well. Now, as to that other matter – the fleet is assembling at Dragonstone, with just enough ships here as to seem to be normal. I dislike this mummery and cant, but it must be done. What of the Goldcloaks?"

"They are led by a corrupt and venal idiot. I should have replaced Janos Slynt years ago with someone – anyone! – else a year or more ago. Sadly I did not. He is in the pay of someone that I have no yet worked out. So, we need to either bribe him into doing his duty, or replace him, or bring men in that we can trust absolutely."

Stannis looked at him. "You know that this cannot end smoothly."

He set his own chin. "I do."