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Chapter 17

Petyr Baelish watched as the Northern buffoon held the bastard child. He needed to be there to watch and see if Stark could put two and two together or if he'd have to explain it all.

"I named her Barra," the whore said as the child nursed. "She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose and his hair…"

Petyr saw there was not a glimmer of understanding of what was truly going on in his dull witless eyes.

"She does." Eddard Stark had touched the baby's fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robert's firstborn had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.

"Tell him when you see him, milord, as it… as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is."

"I will tell him, child, and I promise you, Barra shall not go wanting."

Ned handed the baby back and the woman was dismissed. Petyr spoke softly to Chataya, the proprietress and she left. Soon after the sounds from the common room's music grew louder. Petyr saw Ned look at him questioningly.

"The Spider has many ears; despite the rumors they aren't some ghostly creatures able to pry the secrets from one and all. No, they are just flesh and blood and if we speak quietly, it will be impossible for any would-be little birds to hear us."

"I thank you for bringing me here but my business is done. I need to prepare to leave the city."

Petyr sighed. "How very disappointing. And here I had put my faith in you seeing justice done for Jon's murder."

Ned Stark's eyes widened. "What? How do you know I think he was poisoned? Why do you even care?"

Petyr made his face take on a stern, even serious expression. He had practiced in the mirror for this conversation.

"I owe Jon Arryn everything. After my disastrous duel with your brother, I was no longer welcome in Riverrun. Lord of a few rocks and with no prospects I despaired. Until he raised me up. Until Jon gave me a chance, gave me a position and ultimately a seat at the small council. And you ask why? Do you think you and the King were the only ones who loved the man?"

That should do the trick.

Starks expression had cracked and surprise was etched on his long face.

"I… see," he finally said.

"I want justice done Lord Stark and you are the only one capable of delivering it. As much as I want it to happen, I don't dare make public what I suspect. Promise me Stark, that you will never tell anyone that I've told you what I will reveal. On your old Gods and on your children. If you aren't willing to do that, go back to Winterfell and know that Jon's murderers will never see justice."

Eddard looked Petyr in the eye. "You have my word Lord Baelish, by the old gods and the new, upon my children and my honor I will never reveal you as the source of the information you share."

Petyr let out a breath and walked to the door to listen for a moment before returning.

"Every single bastard Robert has ever sired has had black hair. Most have had blue eyes. I know of at least a dozen, though there are likely more. And yet… every child that Cersei has birthed has been blond-haired."

Ned looked at him in confusion for a moment and then he paled. "You believe Cersei's children are bastards? That the Queen gave Robert horns?"

Petyr nodded. "I have no proof but Jon had a book that kept track of the lineage and hair color of noble family scions and whenever Baratheon black met gold, the black won out."

He cursed, and Petyr knew he had him convinced.

"But how could the Queen even have the opportunity, she's guarded by the Kingsguard at all times!"

Baelish let him work it out himself.

"Surely, they couldn't be that foolish. This can't be true. Her own brother?"

The Master of Coins shrugged. "My eyes and ears tell me that the Kingslayer is often the one who guards the Queen. It was either him personally or he allowed someone to do it on his watch. In either event more than enough reason for the Lannisters to murder Jon."

Eddard sat down heavily on the available chair. "Why didn't Jon bring this to the King?"

Petyr raised his eyebrow. "I could think of several reasons. Maybe he wanted to be sure and was gathering as much evidence as he could. What do you think Robert's reaction would be if he believed the charges? Five corpses at the least and war with the Westerlands. The deaths of children would weigh heavily on Jon's noble shoulders."

Ned's face was made of stone and Petyr continued. "Or perhaps he feared he wouldn't be believed. As you so recently witnessed, Robert can be stubborn. If he refused to believe, what would happen then? Even the rumor would put the succession in disarray." Littlefinger paused. "Or maybe he was waiting for other pieces to come into play to cripple the Westerlands before it was time to act. I knew not all his plans. When we spoke, it was always cautiously as I do now with you."

The Warden of the North pinched his brow then opened his eyes. "If Jaime is the father, why doesn't Myrcella have green eyes?"

"I know not, perhaps eye color is more capricious than Baratheon hair. Perhaps the Queen took on more lovers. In my establishment some men prefer multiple partners at once, it isn't that out of the ordinary to…" Ned's expression made him stop that line of commentary. "Guesses aside, what is most important now is what will you do now that you know, Lord Stark?"

***

​The talk was all over the Red Keep; father was furious with Eddard Stark over something and it sounded as if he'd resigned or had been stripped of his position. This was not good. Not good at all. The Stark-Baratheon alliance was a massive bulwark against any potential aggression from those defeated in the rebellion. More selfishly I also wanted to keep the Stark children and their wolves near me. I had been making some decent progress, the medical formula experiments were agonizingly slow but had borne some fruit. If my magical stamina were to be cut short with the wolves gone it would be immensely frustrating.

Not to mention I had made such great advancement with Sansa, Arya, and Bran! My networking had paid off and they all viewed me favorably. Having them leave so soon would squander all my hard work!

I had to fix this and fast. I made a beeline toward father's chambers which were not the same as the King and Queen's chambers but rather father's private bedroom. He often had dalliances with other women but he didn't go quite so far as to bring them into the bed he shared with the Queen. Thus, the existence of a separate chamber that was his more frequent room and not the royal bedroom.

Ser Preston Greenfield was guarding the door and he seemed surprised to see me.

"Princess, is your father, ah, is he expecting you?"

I stared him directly in his eye. The Kingsguard rarely wore their full helms while on duty inside the Red Keep. I disliked the habit and had insisted Brienne always wear her helm when 'on the clock.'

"Why don't you open the door and ask him, Ser Preston."

He opened the door and began to speak, but I darted right past him.

"Father, we need to talk." I spoke in a raised voice, but not a shout of course. Decorum was important.

"SEVEN HELLS! Greenfield, you useless shit, is this how you guard my door?"

My father was seated at a table ladened with venison, baked bread, and glazed ham. He enjoyed his feasts but even Robert did not want to feast in the main hall every day. Likely his consternation at my having arrived was due to the young topless redhead on his knee and the serving girl with her hair tussled holding a bottle.

"Your Grace she…" Ser Preston started to explain.

"Never mind that father. We need to talk. You two, get out." I ordered the two girls and they quickly removed themselves.

Robert watched them leave and then laughed. "I didn't even give them permission to leave!" He was amused at how quick they had obeyed me. Amusement was good, it meant he wasn't still furious.

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to see me here?" He asked.

"No, father, you have not. I've never attempted to speak with you here because I know you use this room to fornicate with others who aren't mother."

At this, he became flushed. "Well, I'm telling you now! Do not ever try to come into this room. You shouldn't see me with others like that."

"Yes, father, but first we must talk about the dreadful rumor I've heard. Is it true you and Lord Stark have quarreled?"

Robert drowned his cup and slammed it on the desk. "Quarreled? The hidebound honor blinded fool won't see reason! He threw his position away, he's lucky I don't have his head on a spike! I am the KING!"

This was much worse than I had feared.

"Lord Stark is your longest friend; you have told us how he's saved your life during the Rebellion and how there is no man more honorable. I have grown quite close to his children and I believe your initial assessment stands correct. What has happened?"

The King was breathing heavily his eyes would not meet mine. Was he… ashamed?

"Which is why he is supposed to support me not oppose me!"

"Oppose you on what?"

"Dealing with an important matter to the future of the Seven Kingdoms. You are too young to hear of such things."

I quirked an eyebrow.

"Father, regardless of the nature of your quarrel I must urge you to make amends. My brother is betrothed to his eldest daughter, his son is squire to Ser Barristan and fast friends with Tommen and Arya has become like a sister to me. Outside of providing me a sworn shield I have rarely asked for a boon of you. I ask for one now. Reconcile with Lord Stark and don't break the bonds that should last a lifetime."

He gave a groan and I saw his posture become less tense and his face less ruddy.

"I cannot promise anything but I will try, for your sake. You have made me proud daughter. At least one thing I have done has been good since sitting on this damnable Iron Throne." His eyes got a faraway look and then he snapped back. "And you will never attempt to go through that door again." In a much louder voice. "AND YOU! Do not allow any of my children in here again."

I would have to apologize to Ser Preston later.

"Thank you, father, I appreciate the boon greatly. Good night."

***

​"Tell me this isn't true!" Sansa demanded almost the very minute Eddard returned to the Tower of the Hand. She must have been waiting for him, and with only one entrance, it was easy for his daughter to wait for his return. How long had she been there?

Lord Stark frowned. Sansa's dreams would be crushed regardless. He had to bring this to the King; he had to let Robert know of Cersei's treachery and the truth about her children.

"Sansa, Winterfell is our home. I've resigned my position as Hand."

"But father, wait, I just remembered. I can't leave Kings Landing, I'm to marry Joffrey; I must remain here."

Eddard took her hand. "We will find another match for you, a better match. Joffrey is not right for you; I will explain more later."

"It isn't fair!" Sansa cried and ran off.

Arya made her entrance. "Can Syrio come with us?"

"If he is willing, yes." Ned answered. Syrio had taken up residence in the Tower of the Hand since he had started teaching Arya the sword. There was plenty of space and given the frequency of their lessons it only made sense.

At least one child was happy. Ned's path was now clear. His Handship was now done. He would lay the evidence before Robert and his friend would either believe him or not. Either way he would not condone the killing of children, be it the Targaryen girl or Cersei's bastards. He would earnestly plead for Cersei's offspring to be allowed to take the Black or in Myrcella's case join the faith as a silent sister. Would his words be heeded in the former or the latter? He knew not, but his honor would be untarnished.

Preparations continued to be made throughout the night when a guard shouted that men were approaching the tower. Through the widows and the rain, he could see Robert and two of the Kingsguard approach in the lantern light. Behind them were half a company of Gold Cloaks.

Ned went down to greet them. By the time he arrived the King was drying off with a towel from a servant. Ser Barristan and Ser Mandon were with him.

"Your Grace." Eddard bowed his head stiffly. Why had the King come?

"None of that," he replied gruffly. "I'm still upset with you but we need to talk. I'm not walking up all those steps, so find me a room on this floor."

The layout of the Tower didn't quite accommodate that. The first floor held the entryway, serving quarters and the like. The floor above held the Small Hall and more rooms. The third held common rooms for soldiers and servants. The more luxurious rooms were all located on the upper floors. Not desiring to antagonize Robert, Ned ordered a servant to find the nicest room on this floor and bring chairs with cushions on them. They took a few minutes for the well-trained servants to find and prepare.

Robert sat down, and Ned did the same. The King ordered his Kingsguard out.

"Ned, you icy bastard you upset me greatly today. Nothing gets my blood up more than dragonspawn - no don't interrupt." He continued. "I've never been madder at you, Stark, but a wise girl reminded me that you are the reason I'm still alive. You are the reason our rebellion succeeded. We may disagree but you are my oldest and truest friend, and I would not want this to separate us."

Eddard swallowed thickly. He could see the pain and worry in Robert's eyes.

"Does this mean you will rescind the order?"

"No. And if you want your resignation recorded in whatever history you'd like you can have it. Just take up the office again and help me keep this kingdom from tottering into ruin."

Eddard's expression was stony. He didn't care whose name was on the order or how history would view the assassination. It wasn't right, so it shouldn't be done at all. Why couldn't Robert see that? While Ned thought the King fidgeted.

"I've made a real mess of things, Ned. I know what Joffrey is like; he's a little shit and I worry about what will happen when he is King. I'm surrounded by fools and lickspittles. My brother's sailed off without my leave back to Dragonstone. Renly, Varys and Littlefinger prance and jape while nothing of value gets done. The only reason I don't abdicate and run off to Essos is because the idea of my children being left to Cersei alone fills me with dread."

"Your Grace…"

"Let me finish damn you. The throne is killing me. The only time I've felt alive since taking it was when I put down the Greyjoy shits. Who do I replace you with? One of my brothers? Hah. Do you want me to invite Tywin back to take his old position?"

Eddard struggled to keep the wince off his face. That would be a disaster, though it wouldn't come to that.

"Didn't think about that, did you Ned?" The King grimly chuckled. "The one good thing I've done beyond putting pirates to the sword is Myrcella. Do you know she's why I am here?"

Ned felt a deep pain in his chest as he shook his head.

"She barged in right past my Kingsguard. The little princess just calmly orders my whores to leave and they do it! No shouting like Cersei, just calm commands. From a girl who doesn't come up to my waist and they just followed. It was so ridiculous I couldn't help but laugh."

He saw pride in the King's eyes now.

"Then she reminded me of all I've told them of you. How you saved my life. How you were my brother in all but blood. She went on to talk about how close she was with your own lot. How Tommen and Bran have had a blossoming friendship. She views your Arya as a sister, did you know that? Your youngest girl is wild and Myrcella so prim and proper but then we were quite the opposite of each other too, eh?"

"Yes, we were."

How can I tell Robert? How can I do this to him? How can I take the one thing he takes pride in away from him? At this point he may not even believe me? Everyone says she has his eyes. Maybe she is his…

"That at least I got right, uniting our houses together. She almost never asks for anything of me but today she asked me for the boon of keeping you here and making amends. So, let's do it. What's done is done, Varys is already carrying out the order against the dragonspawn. The ravens have likely left, no sense worrying about spilled ale. Continue serving as my Hand, keep our houses bound together."

Robert had always been good at this. His expression was open, his gestures broad. This was how he rallied people to his cause, how the people of Kings Landing came to love him. It was how they'd become friends. He wanted to say yes, he was torn between honor, duty, and friendship.

"Let me think on it, Robert. There is much to consider and I, well it can wait. I won't go anywhere just yet, just give me a few days."

He grinned beneath his beard. "I know you'll come around Ned, you always do."

Eddard sat there thinking after the King had left. What to do? Myrcella's words to Robert had been true in part. His children loved her. Bran enjoyed Tommen's company. Sansa was blindly infatuated with Joffrey. How would he explain to his children why those three heads lining the wall next to the Queen's were his doing? If Robert believed him, he wouldn't allow them to live. The rest of the council save Barristan and Pycelle would insist on it. It was Robert's decisions but, in the end, he would have few allies to sway him from his wrath when he discovered the monumental betrayal.

What if he could find a way to tell Robert the truth but not have the blood of children on his hands? What if he could take a course of action that would not immediately rally the Westerlands to war? If he could convince Cersei to leave with her children into exile before telling Robert that could solve the issues. Robert would try to have them hunted down but they would have gold aplenty and could hide in Essos. Without Tywin's children and grandchildren being slain he could perhaps be convinced not to call his banners. Especially if Cersei chose exile, essentially admitting guilt.

This could work. Robert could remarry, possibly the Tyrell girl and end the feud between the Reach and the Stormlands. It was likely his friend may have him sent back North for not telling him before Cersei could escape but he could live with that if it secured the kingdom and prevented children like Tommen from being butchered.

Now all he had to do was convince the Queen. If she refused to leave, he would be forced to present the evidence to his friend. Only the Gods could say what would happen then.

***

​My throwing knives were ready and I was eager to practice with them. The lighter six were ideal for close range throws at vulnerable body parts. The throat and the eyes would have the most lethality. It was a bit tricky to apply vectors to them at first, but after practice I could enhance their speed without throwing off their flight path. With these, I stuck to a straight throw without any spin.

I tested them without any magic, I was decent at it as the motion wasn't complicated. I tested it while using my magic to amplify the force; much faster and nearly impossible to avoid unless one had truly gifted reflexes. I then again tested with magically enhanced force and reflex enhancements and could make my blades go where I willed even while tumbling, falling, or running. The only weakness was that they were only able to pierce flesh and not pierce through any armor even when magically enhanced.

My larger throwing knives had more mass and therefore force. They couldn't pierce through good armor but a magically enhanced throw at an armored leg could make a foe fall. It could also break through shoddy chainmail. Finally, a strike to a helmed head could daze an opponent. These were more difficult to hide upon my person so I opted to just carry one of them in my daily attire alongside the half dozen smaller throwing knives and my hidden knife for close encounters.

I had received a letter back from Shireen. In it was confirmation that Stannis had sent Ser Davos. It was rather ham-fisted, in the middle of the letter Shireen had written in a discussion on food, "Father does like his onions and if you find any you should know that they are good for you." Unfortunately, that was it. I had read and re-read it for any other hidden meanings and codes but there were none. What threat made the Master of Ships fear for my safety?

I had wanted to work with my uncles Renly and Tyrion on a proposal to improve the Night's Watch but they had gone off on a hunt with Robert. I was quite pleased with how my intervention had ended up keeping Eddard as Hand. He had even suggested to Robert that a few days in the Kingswood would do him some good. In a show of gratitude and renewed bonds the King had even allowed Bran more freedom with his direwolf, allowing Duty to be with him in the White Sword Tower and to accompany him on his duties for Ser Barristan, which included the hunt.

Dinner was a quiet affair with mother and my siblings. Joffrey was vexed he had not been allowed join the hunt. My brother vacillated on his desire to attend these activities. I knew he enjoyed the culmination of the hunt, the kill at the end. He was an able rider but he detested not having creature comforts around him. Mother denying him likely just made him want to go more than he otherwise would.

"Why not? The Stark whelp is allowed to go."

"You need to spend more time with your betrothed, I've invited her to spend the day with you on the morrow."

Joffrey's lips turned downward. He enjoyed having Sansa fawn over him but he also thought she was contemptible. In a way I applauded his acting skills. Sansa had no clue of his true feelings for her. It is important to be able to put on a mask. If a corporate big wig asks your opinion, you can't just give them any answer! Find the answer they want and then regurgitate it. That had served me well in my first life.

"Very well, but I will go on the next hunt I wish to."

"You shall, Joffrey," Cersei agreed.

Tommen looked torn about asking to go as well. He hated the idea of hunts but he had been seeing less of Bran now that Bran was a squire. He ended up not saying anything. Tommen was a work in progress, far too timid to be a royal prince I'd have to spend more time with him soon.

Mother turned to me. "Your handmaidens have been missing you recently, do spend time with them tomorrow. It has been some time since you have sewn something."

I had been busy. Testing magic, testing the impacts of poison and if they could be reversed with magic, training Brienne, writing letters, researching more about the Night's Watch, thinking of ways to flush out who was trying to assassinate me and more. Still, it was expected I include them and sewing wasn't strenuous, I could think while I worked.

"Yes mother."

***

​Bran had been on hunts with his father before but never with Duty at his side, and never as a squire. He still felt himself burst with pride; he was a squire to a great knight of the Kingsguard! Duty was easily able to keep pace. There had been some issues with the horses shying away from the direwolf, but after they'd been in his presence all morning and remained unharmed, they got used to it. His own mount had been the least difficult, which also sparked a sense of pride in him.

He was there along with the King's squires, Tyrek and Lancel Lannister. They rode together and were responsible for seeing to the King and Ser Barristan's belongings. There were two other squires serving the Royces but he had not had a chance to speak with them.

Lord Yohn Royce and his two sons Andar and Robar rode with the King and Ser Barristan. It looked like Yohn was trying to convince him of something. He was too far away to hear exactly so he asked Lancel and Tyrek what they were thinking.

Lancel shrugged. "Probably the Warden of the East business. Due to Lysa's son being so young and sickly the title of Warden of the East was not granted to him. Instead, it went to Jaime Lannister. I imagine that rankles a bit for the Arryn vassals."

Bran knew the houses and their sigils and which houses owed fealty to the great houses. He didn't know much about court politics; he was far more enamored with learning how to fight and conduct himself as a future knight.

The young squire looked behind him and saw Ser Balon Swann, Renly Baratheon, and Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion had brought two red cloaked Lannister guards and Renly had a pair of Baratheon guards as well. The four guards wore chainmail and helms while all the hunters such as Renly, Balon, the Royces and the King wore riding leathers or just plain clothes. Only the two Kingsguard members wore their plate armor and helms.

Ser Boros, of the Kingsguard brought up the rear. With the group were a half dozen huntsmen and another half a dozen servants and grooms for the horses. One hound master who had been miffed at how cowardly his hunting curs were in Duty's presence was also part of the hunting party. They had already bagged a pair of deer but they were unimpressive in size and Robert wanted better game. The rains from a few nights ago made it easy for the huntsmen to locate suitable quarry. No doubt they would have more prizes by nightfall.

Duty began to growl and a few of the horses shied away, still nervous.

"What's the matter?" Bran looked down and asked his wolf. Duty ignored him and let out a howl. The hunting party looked to Bran and Duty, wondering what had happened when through the trees men on horseback appeared. Bran counted four then ten, now twenty and soon Bran gave up trying to get an exact count.

They wore mismatched armors and wore no sigil though several sported furs despite the heat. Some wielded small bows, others swords, axes, and lances. None looked heavily armored though a few wore chainmail. They rushed toward the King's party, along with them the sound of blowing horns. Bran heard horns from in front of him. From behind the King's party, he heard additional horns.

"Protect the King!" Barristan called out and drew steel. Ser Balon dismounted his horse and swiftly pulled out his bow. Tyrek and Lancel looked frightened and Bran grasped at the dagger at his waist. Renly had a look of shocked horror as he drew his arming sword.

"SPEAR!" Robert roared and Tyrek rushed to his side.

Duty sped forward directly toward the charging riders, growling and snarling as he neared causing several of the charging horses to panic and even unseating a couple of the riders.

"FOR THE NORTH," came the cry from the attackers, and Bran did not understand. None of these riders were from Winterfell; what was going on? Duty had slowed the initial onslaught, and soon stray thoughts were gone as frantic battle was joined.