The sky was dark and heavy as Eddard crossed the outer hall of the castle and returned to the Tower of the Hand. Perhaps it had never truly belonged to him in the first place. To Eddard, he was only a passing guest in King's Landing.
He entered his study and sent for Jon.
"Jon, there is something important I need to tell you at once," Eddard said. "I had a quarrel with the king. We are preparing to return to Winterfell."
Jon was startled. He had never imagined a quarrel could carry such weight. The friendship between Eddard and the king was known to all. They had once been the closest of friends, men who had overthrown the Targaryen dynasty together. Yet now, after one bitter argument, they were leaving King's Landing.
"My lord, this is too sudden. I fear we will need at least two weeks," Jon replied.
"I fear we do not have two weeks. I cannot even be sure we have a single day. The king went so far as to say he would put my head on a spear." Eddard frowned.
He did not truly believe the king would harm him. Robert had simply been furious. But many other matters weighed on his mind as well. The king still hated Rhaegar and had never let go of what happened fifteen years ago. There was also the matter of the dwarf. Though the dwarf himself had no wish for it to spread, the news had already flown with the ravens. The king might not care much about the dwarf, but the affair had surely wounded his pride, and the queen had always been arrogant.
Jon studied Eddard's face. The Great Lord was not a man given to jest. It seemed there truly was a grave rift now between him and the king.
"Then we can take the sea route," Jon suggested. "But Littlefinger controls the harbor customs. I fear word may leak out."
Eddard's eyes brightened. Most northmen were not at home on the water, and he himself rarely traveled by sea. But matters were urgent now. They could sail, and perhaps stop at Dragonstone to speak with that perpetually grim Stannis. Ever since returning to Dragonstone, Stannis had cut off contact with King's Landing. Eddard knew he was aware of many things, yet Stannis refused to speak.
"Other than warning you about Littlefinger, did the dwarf tell you anything else?" Eddard asked in a lowered voice.
Jon shook his head. "Only that I should be careful of Littlefinger. He never speaks plainly."
"Very well. It seems safer to leave ahead of schedule. I will take you and a few guards with me first. The others can follow once they are ready. Aside from you, only the steward and Captain Jory will be told later. But the castle is full of watching eyes. This plan must not leak."
Eddard knew perhaps he should never have come to King's Landing. Winterfell was his true home, and he missed it deeply. He missed the snow of Winterfell, the profound silence of the wolfswood. His sons were waiting for him there, and so was his lady wife.
"I understand, my lord. Since we are speaking of Littlefinger, there is one more thing I think you ought to know," Jon said quietly.
"What is it?" Eddard asked.
Jon lowered his voice further, keeping his feelings in check.
"On the day of the tournament, Littlefinger saw Sansa. He even toyed with her hair and said a few words to her, but I was too far away to hear clearly."
"What?" Eddard's eyes widened at once. Littlefinger's nerve was far too great.
"That is what happened. But as for what he actually said, you may have to ask Sansa."
"Good. I understand." Eddard nodded.
His brow tightened. It seemed that, like Robert, some people still could not let go of the past. What, exactly, was hidden behind Littlefinger's smile? The notion that the man would support him wholeheartedly was absurd.
Eddard told Jon to wait there while he went to see Sansa.
"Damn it." Eddard returned to the study in a fury. "The girl never told me."
"Do you remember what Arya said?" Jon asked.
Eddard nodded. Of course he remembered Arya's words. He had not expected Jon to remember them so clearly as well.
"Arya heard everything in the passage."
"Do you believe it was true?" Eddard asked.
"Yes. Arya is my sister, and I know she would never lie. Sometimes children are wiser than grown men." Jon nodded, and even now those words still frightened him. "The two men in the shadows said they were going to kill you, my lord. They also said you had found the bastard and gotten the book. Since the first Hand could die, the second Hand could die as well. One of them was a fat man with a yellow forked beard and rings all over his fingers. He said they should stall for time. The other wore armor and said he had no way to work miracles. He also said the wolf and the lion would soon turn on each other, and that everything had already been ruined. Oh, and the armored man also said the Prince has no children, but they have to deal with the Horselord, so they must move quickly."
Jon's careful reasoning forced Eddard to tread more cautiously. There were other forces in King's Landing besides the wolves and lions, people who knew the city's hidden passages and were trying to make contact across the Narrow Sea.
"If those two truly exist, they are most likely well versed in the secret tunnels," Eddard said thoughtfully. In King's Landing, two men were known, at least on the surface, to have some knowledge of them. Varys needed no mention, and Littlefinger knew a fair bit as well. But now was not the time to dwell on such matters.
"My lord, these things are connected. The bastard is at the center of it. A bastard should not affect the line of succession, yet both Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis were constrained by this. There may be something far more significant hidden within."
"You are right, but I still lack one final piece. By all logic, they should also have a brothel here in King's Landing. I need to see it for myself."
"What do you think we should do?" Eddard asked.
"My lord, Littlefinger cannot be trusted, and we have no real footing in King's Landing. Our relations with House Lannister are growing increasingly hostile. Have you not noticed that Littlefinger is the only one who shows you any warmth? He visits you often. But I do not believe he truly supports you, not with Lady Catelyn involved."
"Yes, Jon," Eddard said after a moment's thought. "My greatest mistake was being too optimistic. I never imagined my friends would turn out this way, nor that matters would become so complicated."
"Instead of being constrained at every step, you should take the initiative. Throw the situation into complete confusion, and then we withdraw to Winterfell," Jon said.
"And how would we do that?" Eddard asked, a hint of interest showing.
Yet the thought of leaving King's Landing still stirred anger in him. So much remained unfinished. If he left, Robert and his circle of flatterers would drive the realm into ruin, perhaps even sell it to the Lannisters to pay their debts. He could not simply walk away and watch the kingdom he and his dearest friend had built fall apart.
As for Lord Arryn's death, though it still troubled him, there were at least some leads now. He only needed more time to uncover which beast was responsible. A beast might lurk in the shadows, cunning and hidden, but sooner or later, it would reveal itself.
"Then we begin with Littlefinger," Jon said quietly. "It may not be fitting for you to act, but I am willing. If a son fights for the honor of his elders, that is a knightly deed. You would be able to remove yourself from it entirely."
"This plan…" Eddard looked at Jon. It was far too bold.
"If it is for you and for our family, what does it matter if I am seen as a savage bastard? Everything I am willing to do is for House Stark."
"Enough, Jon. What you say has merit, but if we can secure a ship tomorrow and leave King's Landing, then none of this will concern us anymore. Find a ship. We leave tomorrow." In that moment, Eddard's resolve was absolute. "A fast vessel, an experienced crew, something that can carry us away quickly and safely."
He no longer wished to uncover the truth. He glanced again at the dagger that had wounded Bran, turning it over in his hand. Catelyn had given it to him. There were too many secrets tied to it. Perhaps it had never belonged to the Imp at all. But Eddard was tired. For now, he had no desire to untangle the web any further.
"As you command, my lord," Jon said, nodding. Still, doubt lingered in his mind. Eddard had always been hesitant. Would he truly leave so easily?
Just as they finished speaking, Tomard announced another visitor.
"My lord, Lord Baelish requests an audience. He seems quite anxious."
...
Catelyn felt tears welling up, but she forced them back.
She knew exactly who those tears were for. Bran. Her two daughters she had left behind. And the five men who had died on the road to the Eyrie.
Their blood still seemed to dance before her eyes. But she told herself to stay strong. She was the Lady of Winterfell. Now that the Imp had been taken from her, matters would only grow worse. Retaliation from Casterly Rock and the Lannisters would come swiftly, and she would need her sister Lysa's support.
"Lady, you have suffered greatly on this journey, but the wildlings have paid an even higher price. They are a troublesome lot. They know the terrain well and fight like raiders, coming and going like the wind," said Ser Donnel of the Vale.
He was a young man of twenty, broad-shouldered and strong. His looks were rough, with a wide nose and a head of coarse, unkempt brown hair, but his manner was honest.
"Yes, Ser. Their armor is poor, and their weapons are rusted, but they truly do fight like the wind," Catelyn said. She had seen it with her own eyes.
The mountain clans of the Mountains of the Moon were a poor people, their weapons and armor of miserable quality. They lived by raiding nearby settlements, attacking anyone who passed through, regardless of rank. Guard or no guard, they would strike all the same. They took whatever they could carry: food, weapons, women. Their small horses were well suited to the narrow mountain paths.
For generations, these clans had been a constant threat to the Vale. Many Great Lords of House Arryn had died fighting them. If she had not been pressed by necessity, Catelyn would never have taken this dangerous route.
Following Ser Donnel, they pressed on and soon arrived before the Bloody Gate.
The fortifications rose ahead. Long stretches of battlements clung to the cliffs on either side, while the mountain path narrowed until barely four riders could pass abreast. Two watchtowers jutted from the rock face, linked by a weathered gray stone arch. Silent watchers stared down from arrow slits, battlements, and the bridge.
Catelyn could not help but feel awe at the strength of the Bloody Gate. Since the Age of Heroes, countless armies had died here, yet none had ever forced their way through the pass.
As they neared the top, a knight rode out to meet them. His horse and armor were gray, but his cloak bore the bold blue and red of Riverrun. At his shoulder gleamed a black fish, crafted of gold and obsidian.
"Blue and red, the colors of Riverrun." Catelyn's eyes brightened as memories surfaced. She saw again the banners of Riverrun, blue and red striped, with a silver trout leaping across them.
"Remember our words, Cat. Family, Duty, Honor." Her father, Great Lord Hoster, had once told her that.
"Family, Duty, Honor… have I lived up to them, Father?" she wondered, unsure of the answer. Once, she had been a daughter of House Tully. Now she was the Lady of Winterfell.
"Who seeks passage through the Bloody Gate?" the knight called.
"Ser Donnel Waynwood, with Lady Catelyn and her companions," Ser Donnel replied.
The knight at the gate lifted his visor.
"I thought you looked familiar. Little Catelyn, you've come a long way from home."
"Uncle, haven't you?" Despite everything she had endured, Catelyn smiled from the heart. That hoarse, smoke-roughened voice carried her back twenty years, to her childhood.
Her father, Great Lord Hoster, had always been busy, and her mother had often been unwell. Of all those in her youth, the one who had spent the most time with them, the one she knew best, was the man before her, her uncle Brynden.
"I fear the years haven't improved me much," Brynden Tully said. Yet when he removed his helmet, Catelyn thought otherwise. His face was weathered, his auburn hair long gone to gray, but his smile remained, his thick brows remained, and the warmth in his deep blue eyes remained.
"Did Lysa know you were coming?"
"We had no time to send word ahead," Catelyn said as the others caught up. "Uncle, I fear a storm is close behind me."
"May we pass into the Vale?" Ser Donnel asked politely. The Waynwoods were always a courteous house.
"In the name of Robert Arryn, Great Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the Vale of Arryn, and the true Warden of the East, I grant you passage and charge you to keep the king's peace in his name," Ser Brynden said. "Go on."
Catelyn caught the subtle difference at once. The true Warden of the East. It seemed Lysa still resented the king for denying her son the title, and her hatred for the Lannisters likely ran just as deep.
If so, then her chances had just improved.