"What happened to Arya?" Eddard asked hurriedly, his long, mournful face full of anguish. He hated the Lannisters, and hated himself even more.
"Your younger daughter Arya escaped from Ser Meryn. She still has some of the wolf's wildness in her," Varys told Eddard. "I still have not been able to find her, and neither have the Lannisters. That may be the gods' mercy, because our new king, little Joff, does not care for her. Your elder daughter is still Joffrey's betrothed. Cersei has kept her close, and a few days ago she appeared at court to beg for your life. Had you been there, you would have been deeply moved."
Eddard felt as if his heart were being cut to pieces. Sending the children south had indeed been a mistake. The storms of politics were cold and merciless. He knew very well that the Lannisters meant to keep hold of both girls. They were the best hostages.
"Lord Eddard, surely you understand your own miserable fate?" Varys asked.
"I... I know. But Cersei would not kill me, would she?" Eddard said dizzily. He was starving, and he had drunk strong liquor. The drink had gone to his head all at once.
"That is hard to say. You do not have many cards left in your hand."
"Then let her kill me. You can kill me too. Cut my throat," Eddard said with a cold snort. The alcohol set his blood burning, and he was exhausted in both body and spirit.
"You wrong me. I have little interest in wolf's blood."
"But you did not choose me. In the Great Hall that day, you stood aside and said nothing."
Varys laughed aloud. "Lord Eddard, when will you finally wake up? Even now, I would do the same. At the time, I had no men, no steel, no armor, no helm, and I was surrounded by Lannister redcoats... Everyone has a role to play, on the stage and off. Court is no different. So the King's Justice must look fearsome, the Master of Coin must be miserly, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be a man of surpassing valor... And the Master of Whisperers, of course, should be full of tricks, skilled at flattery, and able to worm his way everywhere. A Master of Whisperers with too much courage is every bit as useless as a craven knight."
Eddard looked at Varys's face. It seemed like a mask. Varys had many masks, but what lay underneath? "Can you get me out?" he asked.
"It would be difficult, but not entirely impossible," Varys said. "But at what price, Lord Eddard? In the end, every trail would lead back to me. Why should I take such a risk? Unless..."
"Unless what?" Eddard looked at Varys, never truly expecting this clown to agree.
"A man in the Black cells has no choice but to bow his head. The soldiers of Winterfell cannot save you, and neither can the soldiers across the Narrow Sea," Varys said. "If I were you, I would surrender cleanly and look for a way to stay alive."
"You are telling me to... That would dishonor me."
"I said no such thing. But eunuchs need not trouble themselves over honor. I have never had that blessing."
"Then can you deliver a letter for me?"
"That depends on what the letter says. If you wish, I would be happy to provide paper and ink. Once you have written it, I will bring it back and read it through. As for whether I send it out, that depends on whether it suits my own purposes."
"Your purposes? Lord Varys, what exactly are your purposes?"
"Peace," Varys answered without hesitation. "If there is any soul in King's Landing who truly wished to keep Robert alive, it was me." He let out a sigh. "For fifteen years, I did everything in my power to protect him from his enemies, and in the end I still could not prevent this."
"But why did you come back?" Varys asked him.
"Mercy and duty," Eddard answered painfully.
"You are an honorable man. I have met very few such men. But what is the cost of honor and loyalty? This cold black cell is where they have brought you." Varys glanced around the dungeon, damp, freezing, and pitiless.
"I already regret it," Eddard said, closing his eyes. "The wine the king drank was most likely connected to Lancel."
"Why ask when you already know?" Varys said, looking at him. "The king loved good wine, and Lancel brought him good wine. Cersei told her cousin it was the king's favorite. Accidents happen on hunts. Even tourneys can end in disaster. In the end, it hardly matters. If not a boar, then a viper. If not a viper, then a sudden arrow."
"But come to think of it, this has something to do with you as well," Varys said, watching Eddard.
"With me?" Eddard asked in astonishment.
"Cersei was never going to wait long. King Robert was becoming harder and harder to control, and then there was you as well. Forgive my bluntness, Lord Eddard, but you concerned yourself with matters beyond your place. You visited those brothels and looked into the bastard. That drew far too much attention. And you most certainly should not have trusted Littlefinger."
"It was my fault," Eddard said in pain.
"Gods above, even the gods need not blame you too harshly. The queen was bound to strike first. After that she would deal with the king's two brothers. Stannis and Renly truly do make a pair, one an iron fist, the other a silk glove. But once you involved yourself, you were doomed to be swept up in it as well." Varys wiped at his mouth. "Still, I also heard that Littlefinger once hinted that you should swear loyalty to Joffrey."
"How do you know that?" Eddard asked Varys.
"You need not concern yourself with that. I have my own ways. Now I should tell you what I have in mind. It is quite possible that after I speak with you, Queen Dowager Cersei will come to see you as well."
"Why?" Eddard looked at Varys.
"Just listen to yourself, Lord Eddard. You were never suited to King's Landing. The Queen Dowager fears many people. You are dangerous, yes, but you are not the most pressing threat. Ser Jaime is fighting in the Riverlands, while Lady Lysa sits secure in The Eyrie with considerable strength behind her, and she has never been on good terms with the Queen Dowager. In Dorne, the hatred for the Lannisters runs blood deep. And then there is your young lord. Your son is gathering his bannermen."
"Robb? He is only a child." Eddard was stunned.
"A child indeed, though one with a great army in hand. So the ones the Queen Dowager fears most are the Three Stormborn, the three Baratheons. Gendry, Renly, Stannis. Each one more frightening than the last." Varys looked at Eddard.
"And this trouble is partly of your making. You helped create a monster with your own hands, that monster called Gendry. Queen Dowager Cersei was originally most concerned about Stannis. He has always been a formidable commander, upright and unbending, hard as black iron. But beside that savage nephew of his, he looks like a little lamb. The Little Smith cut off the heads of Khal Drogo, Zekko, Redbeard, and the Magisters of Tyrosh and Myr, then hung them all from his longspear.
A bastard carries blood that is reckless and brooding, and some bastards possess a kind of fanatical devotion. He may not have loved Robert, but that does not stop him from showing boundless zeal for avenging his father. If the Starks and Tullys go to war against the Queen Dowager's father and brothers, then the Little Smith will break into King's Landing and take a few more heads as trophies, preferably golden-haired Lannister heads. Of course, even the Queen Dowager herself may not survive, though I truly believe she cares more for her children."
"Gendry Baratheon is Robert's true heir," Ned said. "The will and the law both prove it. The throne is his by right, and I would welcome his ascent as king."
"Do not be foolish, my lord. You are working so hard on Gendry's behalf, and he may well be waiting eagerly for your head to be chopped off. Only then will the hatred between Stark and Lannister run deep enough for him to claim a better cause in avenging you," Varys said. "So my advice is that you wake up and keep that useful head of yours attached to your shoulders. Your daughter has been desperately pleading for your life. Such a chance is not easily won. Besides, Queen Dowager Cersei is in no easy position herself. The fleet across the Narrow Sea could reach King's Landing."
"This woman murdered my king, slaughtered my men, and threw my son down until he was crippled, and you want me to serve her?" Eddard could not believe it.
"It is all for the good of the realm, my lord," Varys said, looking at Eddard. "You are of uncommon value, and House Stark still has strength of its own. An honorable man can step forward and proclaim a will, and naturally he can also declare that will false. Admit your error to Queen Dowager Cersei. Say the will was your own fabrication. Say the Three Stormborn are usurpers, ungrateful traitors, and swear loyalty to the true king, Joffrey. The Queen Dowager will certainly go along with it. So long as you give her time to prepare for war, so long as you agree to hold your tongue, your honor can still remain intact, and the Queen Dowager does not wish to lose you as such a powerful ally. Even in the worst case, you would only be sent back to the Wall to join your brother. And if that Smith king comes marching on us, you may well end up as an honored guest in the Red Keep, someone the Queen Dowager must soothe and win over."
"That is impossible," Eddard said in fury.
"Nothing is impossible. Think of your women, my lord," Varys said. "And think on this. The Smith you support may not be a good man either. His wife carries Dragonblood, and he does not like having a Queen Regent over his head. If you die in King's Landing, I fear he may laugh at it. Your son, meanwhile, will be left with no choice but to rely on him and bleed for him. A bastard is still a bastard, a schemer."
Eddard said nothing.
Varys went on, "Confess your fault to the Queen, Lord Eddard. Just admit the will is false. Admit that you committed treason. Even if you end up taking the black, Stark and Lannister can make peace. Joffrey can marry your Sansa, your younger daughter can be wed to Tommen, and your heir can take Myrcella to wife. Just look at what a fine board that would make. At that point, even from the Wall, who would dare offend you?"
"That is impossible. I gave my word." Eddard shook his head.
"Then what of your daughter's life, my lord? How much is that worth? Let the Queen Dowager hear what she wants to hear."
"No, I beg you, do not drag the children into this. Sansa is only a child."
"That is no longer for you to decide. You remember those children, do you not? The Targaryen children."
"...Let Sansa forgive me. I promised Robert." Eddard turned his head away, and tears slid down his face.
"What a cruel father."