Eddard felt his dark situation had slightly improved; he hadn't changed rooms, but the straw had been replaced by a low bed with feather down, and every day a Jailer would take away his slop bucket. However, there were still no windows, which was the most agonizing part.
Although the Jailer didn't know who the important person imprisoned was, food and water were not scarce, and Eddard could see light for a period of time almost every day, preventing his eyes from being damaged by prolonged darkness.
Eddard knew the walls of his confinement were pale red, revealing patches of saltpeter, and the grey wood was made of splinters, nailed with iron spikes. The dungeon was located deep beneath The Red Keep, its depth unknown. Everyone knew the story of Maegor the Cruel, who killed all the craftsmen who built his castle so they couldn't reveal its secrets.
But besides this, Eddard was as good as dead. The Jailer brought food and water, never spoke a word to him, and didn't know his identity. Eddard's diet and living conditions were barely tolerable, but he knew nothing of the world outside; he was just a caged wolf. How much time had passed, how quickly it had gone, he could only judge by his meal schedule and the times the door opened.
"Robert told me that the King dines and the Lord Hand shits. Now the King is dead, and the Lord Hand is to be buried with him," Eddard thought, stroking the cold wall as if feeling the chill of Winterfell, with the Kings of the North in the crypts looking at him with their cold stone eyes. He remembered the faces of his brother and sister, poor Stark, now death had come for him.
"I die for my loyalty to you, Robert. You fool, you caused the death of Lord Jon, you caused your own death, and now you will cause mine. But I am also a fool; I investigated too slowly and without any clues, and I also caused your death," Eddard blamed the King's recklessness. The situation in King's Landing was so chaotic that Robert couldn't even control his own wife. Eddard also thought of Cersei's face, her golden hair like sunlight, loudly mocking him. The lioness laughed, "I won this game of thrones, Lord Eddard. You lost, and that means death."
Eddard also thought of Catelyn's urging and impulsiveness. He shouldn't have gone south to get involved in this chaos, but Catelyn, eager for a queen's crown, kept pushing him south and even hastily tried to kidnap The Imp. And there was Lysa's letter, like a deadly poison, luring him. He loved too deeply, and loved too foolishly. But in the end, Eddard cursed himself. His own stupidity had plunged the North into bloodshed and defeat. "You idiot, you are a goddamn idiot."
What was the situation outside? Thinking of his two daughters, and Robb and Catelyn, his heart was burning with anxiety. At this point, he knew he was a Stark of Winterfell. Sadness and rage brewed in his heart. He shouldn't have come to King's Landing, this chaotic place.
Eddard didn't know night from day; it was always night here. He most wanted to return to Winterfell, to be with his children, and with Catelyn. At this moment, he didn't know where they were or what they were doing. Could he charge forward again?
Eddard resolved to give himself some hope. Even if no one spoke to him, he thought in the darkness and decided to fight on. Many rebels were still safe. The King's bastard had always been brave and skilled in battle, and the King's two brothers had now escaped King's Landing. They would gather armies in Myr, Dragonstone, and Storms End. Would Elin, whom he had sent out, also return to him with other guards? And Catelyn, having received the message, would surely rally the Lords of the North to rise up, and the Lords of The Three Rivers and The Vale of Arryn would fight side by side.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor. Eddard, half-asleep, finally heard the heavy wooden door creak open. The sudden light made him greedily stare at the brightness.
A new Jailer came forward. This Jailer was shorter and stouter, wearing a half-length leather cloak and a spiked steel helmet.
"Lord Eddard, drink quickly," the Jailer said.
Eddard quickly recognized the familiar voice: it was Varys. But his strength hadn't fully recovered. Lannister let him eat, but not until he was full.
Eddard touched Varys's face. The eunuch's face had grown a thick black stubble, making it look particularly rough. Varys had transformed, exuding the smell of cheap wine and sweat, becoming a bearded Jailer. Varys had appeared like this before, so Eddard wasn't surprised. He truly was a magician skilled in transformation, full of strange tricks.
"Magician, you've appeared again," Eddard took the wineskin and drank. He never loved wine, but this time he was especially greedy. As for whether it was poison, Eddard no longer feared. This wine was quite sweet and clear.
"This wine is quite good this time."
"You look quite well, after all, you are the most valuable bargaining chip on the Queen's person."
"My daughters."
"Your eldest daughter is still Joffrey's fiancée, but now she is a noble prisoner in The Red Keep, and has witnessed her father's tragic death. Your youngest daughter has not appeared, which is a mercy from the gods, for the King hated her and your Bastard most."
"The King, the Queen Mother."
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