Legacy of Fire and Ice

The wind blew hard out here on the open water. Eddard Stark stood at the railing on the front deck watching the waves play with the ship. It was fascinating for a man who lived on land his entire life to see how easily nature lifted the large, heavy vessel up only to let if fall back to its original height just to start the process all over again. During this voyage the Lord of Winterfell had learned he had sea legs and no matter how rough the sea got, his stomach never felt the tiniest bit queasy. Ned welcomed the feeling of the wind sweeping past his face and didn't mind that it put his hair and clothes in disarray. It had a refreshing effect. It felt as if the wind lifted up his troubles and they seemed significantly lighter somehow when they fell back into place. It was no wonder he often found himself at this spot. Mostly they left him alone out here. The southerners of the royal retinue didn't like to face the elements and his northern guards knew of his habits and preferences and kept a respectful distance. Ned spotted Gawen on the other side of the deck and knew the man was discreetly guarding him. That was another thing he would have to get used to. With his new position and the political games in the capital, he would always have to walk around with sufficient protection. Even if the culprit who murdered Jon Arryn would be eliminated soon, there were always others who would seek to gain something by harming the Hand of the King.

They were approaching King's Landing and would dock tomorrow morning. He looked forward to receiving tidings from home. He wondered whether his wife's anger had subsided somewhat by now. Their last night at Winterfell, he had made her promise not to take her frustrations out on their children. He had reminded Catelyn that she just needed a bit more patience. Soon enough things would change for the better. He would invite her to the capital the very moment the situation was stable after the change in power. Everyone at the new King's court would bow to her as the Starks would be the most prominent house in Westeros as they were the closest kin to the true King. A King that realised all too well that he owed everything to house Stark and loved them all dearly. Even if Aegon Targaryen took a wife, she still would be the second most important woman in the Realm.

He knew his wife well enough to understand that this was the best argument he could make to soften the blow of her having to stay behind in the North. But when she took it in stride that Bran would be fostered out to Howland Reed for a year or longer, Ned had not been fooled. He saw right through her easy acceptance and was certain that she was already thinking of ways to entice Lord Reed and his family to the capital once she lived there. Well, no harm in letting her believe that she would get her way. Ned would play it step by step for now.

He worried about leaving Robb to deal with Roose Bolton. The morning of their departure, Ned had spoken briefly to the Lord of the Dreadfort. He had not outright promised to betroth Sansa to Domeric Bolton. Instead he had stalled for time by vowing on his honour of a Stark that he would not betroth his daughter to anyone else before House Bolton and House Stark reached a consensus on this matter. As proof of his good faith he had informed the Lord of his refusal to betroth his daughter to the King's son way before the revelations of the paternity of the royal children. He had tried to convince the man that he had braved the ire of his King for the sole reason of his unfinished negotiations with House Bolton. He had demanded twelve moons respite in light of the changed circumstances and his imminent departure for the capital. He hoped his honourable reputation had swayed the man and that Robb would have no trouble in removing Roose Bolton and his retinue from Winterfell.

He was also eager to receive some news from the Wall and Dragonstone. He had several messages ready to send out in return. But most of all he wanted to hear a status report from Varys. He prayed that Littlefinger had not done too much damage presiding over the small council these last few sennights. It had been a small risk he had taken to keep the man's suspicions at bay and make him feel safe and confident enough to stay in the capital. Varys had reassured him that during a prolonged absence of both the King and his Hand, the council's authority was limited to insignificant local matters. And if Petyr Baelish would be so stupid as to abuse his temporary position for his personal gain, it would be just another thing to use against him during his trial.

One night halfway through their sea voyage, Ned and Robert had ensconced themselves in Robert's large cabin with a large pitcher of ale as they usually did before retiring. Mostly on such occasions they discussed matters of state or reminisced about the past. That night however for some reason Robert had drunk a lot more than usual and had been rather intoxicated. This time his drunken mood had turned to self-pity. The King had cried in Ned's arms and had lamented for most of the evening.

"I am feeling old Ned. And what have I got to show for my life? Nothing, not a single fucking thing."

"You are in the prime of your life Robert. You still have a few namedays to go before you celebrate your fortieth nameday and you are the most powerful man in all of Westeros. The entire realm envies you. You have plenty to show for your life." Ned had discreetly moved Robert's cup out of his reach.

"But I have no wife, no children. My only heirs are a fag of a brother who will not sire Baratheons and an older brother, who has no love for me. Stannis has never supported me and only has a daughter disfigured by greyscale. If I do not sire male children then House Baratheon dies with me."

"Robert, Stannis may be a rigid, cold man but I always thought him to be honourable. If you sire no heirs there are other ways to let House Baratheon live on. You have sired plenty of male bastards already. If you legitimise one or more of them, you have someone of your precious Baratheon blood to continue your house." Ned had immediately thought of Jon's friends Gendry when he uttered these words. From the messages he had received he knew that the boy was loyal to Jon to a fault which meant a possible heir to Storm's End whose allegiance would be to House Targaryen.

"Bastards are despicable, Ned. They will ruin the reputation of my house." The King eyes had turned red from crying and he had looked like a small child that felt that it had been treated unfairly.

"That's just some dogma the faith of the Seven came up with to encourage the men of Westeros to keep it in their pants and stay faithful to their wives. Come on Robert, we are men of the world. Surely you know better than that? At least let me search for your male bastards. I'll foster them out to noble families without revealing who sired them so they get a Lord's education. In the very unlikely event that years from now you do not have a true-born son, I'll arrange for you to meet them under some pretext or other and you can test their metal without revealing your motives." Ned had done his utmost to reason with the drunken man. The conversation had continued a while longer until Robert had lost all his dignity and Ned had felt like the most dishonest man in the entire history of Westeros.

The next morning, both men had found it difficult looking each other in the eye. Eventually it had been Robert who had broken the ice.

"I will not touch another drop of wine or ale before we arrive at King's Landing." He had declared with his loud booming voice. He had lowered his voice for his next statement. "Ignore anything I might have uttered last evening, Ned. I hardly remember any of it anyway."

The King's behaviour though had made it obvious to Ned that the man had lied. Then Robert had put a hand on Ned's shoulder. "I have made a resolution Ned. I will start anew. Take a beautiful wife, enjoy siring lots of heirs and make an effort to become the kind of King my new family can look up to. And how can I not succeed with my very best friend at my side."

The King who apparently hadn't suffered any physical repercussions of his drunken evening had enjoyed Ned's surprise and had thumped his Hand's shoulder again, this time with some force.

"Come on, Lord Hand let us break our fast and start governing our realm. I vaguely recall you mentioning some ideas at the beginning of our trip."

Robert had indeed stayed sober for the rest of the trip and together they had drafted several royal decrees they could put before the small council. With Robert this decisive and with his Hand's support the small council's input was a mere formality. They would just inform them of their decisions, explain their reforms and be done with it.

First and foremost the King had finally formally acknowledged his brother Stannis of House Baratheon as the Lord of Storm's End and as the heir to the Iron Throne provided the King sired no male children. Ned had intentionally left the word 'true-born' out of the decree to have the loophole of legitimising one of the King's bastards.

Next Ned had convinced Robert to refuse the right of a trial by combat to anyone accused of conspiring against the Crown who had been found guilty through irrefutable proof. A jury of nobles who swore upon their honour and to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms had to agree unanimously that the defendant was guilty without a sliver of a doubt. Ned had used the argument that no interference of the Gods was necessary if for example a murderer had committed his deed in front of several witnesses.

Ned was glad he had also gotten the King to agree on another reform. Robert had put up some resistance at first. A new law decreed that a knight of the Kingsguard, a member of the City Watch or any armed man in the service of the Crown could be held accountable if he murdered someone without just cause or if he used his position to harm the weak, accept bribes, steal from or blackmail anyone. To neutralise Robert's objections, Ned had added a paragraph that stated that no one would be convicted without irrefutable proof, and that every knight was proclaimed innocent until proof of his guilt was deemed undeniable by a jury of at least three nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the law.

They had also reviewed the evidence that they had gathered against Littlefinger. Ned really looked forward to that trial. He had asked Robert if he wanted to preside over the jury but Robert had told him to go ahead. Since Ned had masterminded most of the man's downfall, the King gladly relinquished his right to his Hand. He would make the effort of attending but it would be as a spectator who only showed up to watch an amusing play not to take an active part in it.

***

Littlefinger made extra work of his appearance that morning. He checked if all his buttons were polished just right and attached the golden chain to his coat. Next, he inspected his looks in the tall mirror before him. His small pointed chin was cleanly shaven. The few threads of grey hair were camouflaged. His new tailor-made coat lent an aristocratic air to his slender build. Yes, he was ready. Ready to finally witness the demise of his long-time rival. Today was reckoning day for that bald headed upstart of a eunuch.

After years of his schemes being thwarted, somehow the feared appointment of Eddard Stark as Hand of the King had been the best thing to happen to his campaign in years. Even before the inexperienced man arrived in King's Landing, Petyr had already profited from the change in power. Dearest Catelyn had almost begged him in her last scroll to help her ignorant husband with the unfamiliar politics of the capital. She had described how Ned had nightmares about his new role and she had only been able to calm him down by reassuring her husband that he had an ally in the capital in Peter Baelish who was a dear friend of hers and by extension of House Stark. After reading her plea, he was confident that he would be able to rule the capital through Eddard Stark. And sure enough, only days later an official decree had arrived that gave Lord Petyr of House Baelish the authority to temporarily preside over the small council in the absence of the King and his Hand.

Varys had walked around with a dejected expression ever since and had avoided Baelish's company as much as possible. The Master of Whispers however could not avoid the small council meetings and there Littlefinger had made him cower before him. Never before had Lord Varys been so deferential to him. Yes, Petyr had won the fight. And it had gotten even better. The first order of business of the new Hand once he had settled in at the Tower of the Hand had been to summon Lord Baelish to a private meeting. Lord Stark hadn't hesitated to ask Petyr to make him familiar with each member of the small council's strengths and weaknesses. Baelish had taken the opportunity to cast suspicion of treason on Lord Varys and here they were. The Master of Whisperers had been apprehended and his trial was today.

***

When Petyr Baelish entered the throne room at the very last moment so he could make a grand entrance, he was astonished to see how many people had turned up to witness the downfall of the Master of Whisperers. It appeared that every noble who had been close enough to reach to capital in time for the trial had shown up. He hadn't realised Varys was so hated by the population of Westeros. That knowledge would have made him much happier during all those years of doubting his ability to best the man.

Eddard Stark greeted him with a nod of his head and subtly pointed to a witness stand that faced the high table and was conveniently located in the center of the open space. It would be the ideal place to sway all the jurors of the King's Court with his carefully prepared statements. Only the day before, Lord Stark had once more emphasised in a short private interview that the entire case hinged on his testimony. He was the Crown's most important witness. This was his moment to shine. He straightened his shoulders and like a bride entering the isle of a sept, he strode slowly but confidently to the spot where he would put the final nail in the coffin of his rival. When he arrived at the witness stand, he ignored the chair and stayed upright. He put his hands on the bannister that stood before the chair and looked expectantly at the six noble Lords that were seated at the high table. The Hand of the King rose from his chair and theatrically unfolded an unusually long scroll.

"Lord Baelish you stand before the Hand of the King and the jurors of the King's Court all sworn to uphold the King's justice to answer to the charge of murder and treason. How do you answer those charges?"

Lord Baelish looked at Lord Stark embarrassed by the man's enormous mistake. Surely he had meant to say Lord Varys when he addressed his accusation. Eddard Stark was obviously very nervous and had been confused by the sight of Petyr who stood right before him. When he saw the unwavering stare the Hand of the King fixed on him, doubt entered his mind. He turned his head left and then right frantically searching for the corpulent figure of the eunuch. He blanched when he saw the man next to the King, sitting up straight, a slight smirk on his face that was clearly meant for him.

'No way in hell?! I have been played! I have been played with such brilliance that I never saw it coming. How in Seven Hells is this possible?' He swallowed and tried to focus his mind.

'All is not lost. I am after all a master conniver, the very best at manipulating people. I will play these jurors like puppets on a string and have them apologise to me profusely afterwards. I will guilt trip them into giving me at least a Lord Paramount's position to make up for the dishonour they are bringing down on me by their ill-fated accusations.'

"My Lord Hand? I do not understand. Have I not always served my King to the best of my abilities? I know not of what you speak, so I can only plead innocent." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Varys' smirk only grow more pronounced. He needed to focus. Lord Stark had started to answer and he had already missed his first words.

"... well, Lord Baelish your plea will be noted. However, to make this official, I would have you state your innocence to each of the separate accusations I will lay before you. I want you to swear upon your honour that your answers will contain the absolute truth and that you will not conceal anything from us deliberately."

Petyr Baelish had scrutinised Lord Stark's stern countenance but couldn't detect the slightest emotion. The man hadn't blinked when he pleaded innocent. Sweat started to appear on his forehead. He abstained from the urge to reach for the very fine handkerchief he had so carefully selected for this important day. He would not show weakness. He ignored the whispers from a treasonous crowd who seemed to take pleasure in his predicament and straightened his posture even more.

"I swear upon the honour of my house and my faith in the Seven that I will only tell the truth before the jurors of the King's Court and will not lie by omission." He was satisfied when he heard his voice rang firm and knew he had sounded sincere, when he heard doubts being expressed by a few voices behind him. The reaction of the crowd strengthened his belief that all was not lost.

"You stand accused of falsely implying that the Kingdom of Dorne was planning a rebellion with the help of a full grown dragon. How do you plead?" Lord Stark read the first accusation from the scroll.

"Innocent. My Lord Hand, jurors of the King's Court, I made a grievous mistake based on reports manipulated by the Master of Whispers who is the real traitor. It is his trial we should be holding here." He spoke each word slow and articulate. 'This trial is nothing but a farce. They have no solid proof. I just need to stay calm and refute their stupid accusations. Casting the blame on someone else is always a good strategy, one that I master very well.'

"These are serious charges, Lord Baelish. Do you have solid proof to put before the jurors of the King's Court today?" Ned Stark's reaction was clear and concise.

"No, my Lord Hand. No more than you have of my alleged nefarious intent. I acted on the best intentions and wanted to warn the King about the situation in Dorne as soon as possible. I concede that I acted a bit hasty and did not verify the rumours before speaking up but that is my only crime."

"Noted". Lord Stark indeed made a short inscription on the scroll. Before holding it up again and reading the second accusation. "You stand accused of conspiring with the Houses Frey, Bolton and Greyjoy to weaken the position of the Northern Kingdom."

"Why ever would I do that my Lord Hand? Lady Catelyn has always been a true friend to me." Pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead.

'This was unexpected. However had they gotten wind of this?' He needed all his strength to keep the shock from showing on his face.

"A true friend you wanted to marry long before my brother appeared on the scene. My Lords of the Jury, I am not impartial here. May I ask that Lord Royce as Master of Laws takes the lead in presenting the evidence?"

Nobody objected. Soft murmurs from the audience could be heard when Lord Royce rose from his chair and accepted the large scroll from Eddard Stark.

"May I state for the record that Lord Baelish has neither denied nor affirmed his guilt." After a theatrical pause he read from the scroll. "The evidence consists of several messages that were intercepted before they could reach Lord Walder of House Frey and Lord of the Twins. They reveal that the accused promised House Frey the position of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands if they could weaken the position of House Tully and lure part of the Northern army that Lord Eddard Stark would surely send in support of his good family to the Riverlands. In these messages he reveals that the Ironborn will also distract House Stark by attacking the shores of the Riverlands and the North and that House Bolton will perform its part to weaken House Stark."

"Messages can be falsified, honourable jurors of the King's Court. I have never written such drivel. I am true to my King and a long-established friend of the Northern Kingdom. Somebody is plotting my downfall and I already know the culprit." Petyr turned his head towards Lord Varys who stayed eerily calm. The crowd really seemed to be on his side if he interpreted their shocked murmurs right. Petyr took heart in that.

The old Grand Maester Pycelle who was one of the jurors spoke up with his old wavering voice. "I have examined these scrolls and compared them to other writings of Lord Baelish I had in my archives. He has a distinct way of writing his capital letters P, B and L. I am convinced that these messages were written by his hand. Several turns of phrases he often uses are repeated word for word in these messages. Upon my honour of Grand Maester I proclaim with absolute certainty that these messages are written by Lord Baelish."

"Or by a master forger." Petyr Baelish objected immediately.

"That would imply that you accuse the Grand Maester of being incompetent." Lord Royce was as unflappable as Lord Stark it seemed. Baelish listened with growing trepidation to his next statement.

"We have also intercepted a scroll containing a cry for help from Lord Walder of House Frey when your messages stopped reaching his stronghold. I am sure that we can summon the head of House Frey to the capital to tell us in his own words what promises you have made him and on how many different occasions." Lord Royce countered.

"A man will tell anything if you pay him enough gold." He tried once more to refute the charges.

"That is certainly true of Lord Frey." Eddard Stark interrupted. "I suggest we do not waste the time of the Crown's Court any more than necessary and move on to more serious accusations."

The ominous tone of Lord Stark's voice and the intentional pause captured the imagination of the audience. You could hear a pin drop as the audience held their breath to hear what was more serious than treason. Baelish swallowed and prayed the man would get on with it so he could discredit his next ridiculous charge that was probably dreamt up by Varys anyway.

"You also stand accused of conspiring to murder Jon Arryn, the late Hand of King Robert. How do you plead?"

'Seven Hells, they had gotten to Lysa.' Petyr looked around and saw several men from the Vale but no sign of Lysa Arryn. He had been slightly worried she might be in the capital as soon as he had noticed that Lord Yohn of House Royce was one of the jurors. "Not guilty, my Lord Hand." He kept his voice even. He needed to keep the crowd convinced of his supposed innocence. He saw Lord Royce hand the long scroll back to Lord Stark who immediately started to read from it.

"We have the confession of Arryn's widow. And I quote: I murdered my Lord Husband urged by and with the help of Lord Baelish. He provided the poison 'Tears of Lys' that I then administered to my husband. My motives were a future marriage with Lord Baelish and the promise that he would help my son on the Iron Throne by marrying him to Shireen Baratheon. end quote. According to Lysa Arryn, Lord Baelish somehow knew long before any of us that the royal children were not fit to succeed their father." Lord Stark looked pointedly at him now.

Petyr swallowed. "Ravings of a mad woman. She has always wanted to get her claws into me." He made sure he remained the picture of calm and confidence. The sweat however was now pouring down his face and soiling the shirt of his new outfit.

"And I presume her two loyal servants are mad as well according to you, Lord Baelish? They confirmed everything Lady Arryn told us when we questioned them even though they were not present to hear Lady Arryn's original confession. Even her son, the young Lord Arryn told us how you would not leave his mother alone and were always whispering in her ear when you visited."

"All lies. Everybody knows that woman is unstable and her simple-minded son has apparently inherited his mother's madness, the poor lad." This time some of his panic was noticeable in the tone of his voice. Petyr felt the muscles of his face getting sore from the effort it took to keep a blank, benevolent expression on his face.

An ear-piercing shriek made everyone turn their heads to the left entrance. Lysa Arryn stood there between two guards of House Stark easily recognisable by the direwolf sigil on their gambeson. "Liar! My Sweetrobin is the kindest boy that ever lived and smart as hell. You tricked me and made a murderess out of me. I should never have believed you. You are a false snake, always polite and smiling to everyone's face and then besmirching their reputation as soon as they turn their backs. I haven't told my good brother and the other Lords half of what you have mentioned to me."

"My Lords, jurors of the King's Court, can you make that woman stop screaming, please? My ears are hurting and her testimony has no value." Things were not going well. Petyr was starting to get desperate. 'How could I not have seen this coming? They have seen through most of my schemes.'

"No value, no value? I have value all right!" Lady Arryn approached the high table where the jurors were seated. She was determined to make vile lying Petyr pay for his slight against her son. She tried to keep her voice level, knowing it was very important everyone believed what she was about to say next.

"My Lords, jurors of the King's Court, I admit that I made many mistakes and the only thing I can say in my defense isthat I was played by a masterful manipulator. I am willing to pay for my crimes but I would like to have the opportunity to present new evidence to the King's Court."

Total silence fell over the room. Eddard Stark looked at his fellow jurors and then studied Baelish's demeanour. The man was pale as a ghost and sweating profusely.

"Lysa, dearest," Littlefinger pleaded "I love you. I only said those things because I was desperate and could think of no other way to defend myself from these false accusations."

"Silence, Lord Baelish. You will have a chance at rebuttal after Lady Arryn has presented her information to the King's Court." He addressed the crowd. "I ask everyone present to remain silent." Next Ned Stark looked at Lysa Arryn. His stern features softened visibly to give her courage. "Go ahead, Lady Arryn. The Crown's Court can hear you out now."

Lord Stark and everyone else was keen to hear what the woman would accuse Littlefinger of this time.

"What I am going to tell you all is the absolute truth. I swear it on the well-being of my only son. I have lived with the burden of this secret long enough and that vile man is no longer worth another day of my protection." She swallowed and kept her gaze away from Petyr Baelish.

"Lysa dearest, think about what you are doing, please." Petyr gave up all pretence of calm and sounded desperate now.

"If we hear one more word out of you before you are given permission by this Court, we will gag you Lord Baelish." Petyr stayed silent for now but wondered at Lord Stark's composure. The man was the epitome of justice standing there all high and mighty at his high table amongst his puppet Lords who were somehow all dancing to his tune.

Lysa Arryn turned to face the seat where King Robert was following the proceedings.

"Your Grace, forgive me if I am causing you pain with what I am about to reveal here, but it cannot be helped. The truth is that on that fateful night when Lyanna Stark disappeared all those years ago, she gave me a letter to hand over to her brother Lord Brandon of House Stark. I read it together with Petyr, I mean the accused, Lord Baelish. He was already paying me a lot of attention at that time, you see. In the letter Lyanna Stark explained how she had fallen in love with Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and that she planned to elope with him."

Shouts of dismay and disbelief could be heard from all corners of the hall. "Silence!" Lord Stark's voice deep and resonant put a halt to the exclamations. "Pray, continue Lady Arryn." He once more coaxed her into speaking.

"As I said, she eloped with him." Lysa Arryn repeated. "The letter also mentioned that they planned to marry in secret as soon as the Prince succeeded in getting his marriage annulled by the High Septon. Lord Baelish persuaded me to conceal the message. Back then I was really convinced that we performed a good deed by not hurting your Grace's feelings as Lyanna's betrothed by withholding the letter. I am so sorry, my King. When things started escalating and I wanted to come forward, Lord Baelish burned the letter. He laughed at me and said nobody would believe me now if I spoke up. Recently, Petyr, I mean Lord Baelish confessed to me it was all a ploy to create chaos in the realm so he could benefit in its aftermath."

Several gasps could be heard. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder once more. The jurors were visibly shocked. Lord Stark appeared to be the only one who kept his cool. Once more he ordered the room to be silent. He had to threaten to have the spectators removed before order was restored enough for him to addressed Lysa Arryn one last time.

"Thank you Lady Arryn. Please take a seat and keep silent during the rest of the proceedings." A discreet nod to his houseguard and they led Lady Arryn to a seat against the left wall. Then he fixed Littlefinger with a determined stare.

"Lord Baelish, you stand accused of plotting the Rebellion against House Targaryen and are consequently complicit to the murders of Prince Rhaegar, Lord Rickard of House Stark ruling Lord of Winterfell at that time, of Brandon of House Stark and of thousands of nobles, knights and valiant soldiers on both sides who defended their bannermen and lost their lives in the process. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, my Lord Hand. I consider the testimony of Lady Arryn as false."

Lord Stark noticed from the corner of his eye that the King was using a small door behind his chair to leave the courtroom without drawing attention to his person. He felt for his erstwhile friend. To him the revelation that Lord Baelish had indirectly caused the death of his father and brother had been unexpected and he still reeled from the shock. The King however had been proclaimed a spurned suitor in open court. This was not a good development. He needed to keep his wits about him though. If he was not careful, that slimy bastard could still wriggle his sorry arse from under their noses. He needed to put his personal feelings this revelation had caused aside. He used all his energy to fix Littlefinger with an unwavering stare.

"Lord Petyr of House Baelish, I would be inclined to believe you if there werejust one person who conspired against you. But when several honourable men from all over the Seven Kingdoms come forth with compelling evidence against you, I would be considered a fool to still believe you. The word of one man against the many."

"You have no right to accuse me of anything. You are nothing. You are not even the rightful Lord of Winterfell." Again horrifying gasps could be heard throughout the courtroom.

"Lord Stark is not on trial here, Lord Baelish." Lord Royce had risen once again. Receiving a nod of approval from the Hand of the King he continued. "Please do tell. You are accusing everyone of lying or being mad. I am curious as to what you will lay at the feet of the most honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Pray continue."

"Lord Stark has stolen Winterfell from its rightful heir. Lord Brandon Stark sired a trueborn son before he died. The young man has reached adulthood and has currently been spotted in the North. He will soon claim his inheritance and he will succeed since he has at least one dragon at his command."

"Can you provide proof of this fantastic tale? Is there a Septon who married Lord Brandon? Are there witnesses or documents that can prove the young man is who you claim him to be? Has the young pretender come forward? Have any of the nobles present in the throne room today been approached to support this alleged heir's claim to Winterfell? Has anyone present here seen a dragon with their own eyes? Can anyone link the alleged heir to Winterfell to this dragon?" Lord Royce's voice boomed loudly so even the servants standing in the back of the room could hear every word loud and clear.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. "Now is the time to speak up." Lord Royce tried once more when nobody spoke up. "Can anyone lend credence to the tale we just heard out of the mouth of the accused?"

Lord Royce turned his head back to Lord Stark. "You can continue where you left off, Lord Hand."

"Thank you Lord Royce. I believe I was just about to summarise before the King's Court the list of the most prominent persons who have come forward to accuse Petyr Baelish. This in order to refute Lord Baelish's claim that everything was fabricated."

Eddard Stark held up his hand to prevent Lord Baelish from interrupting.

"I, Eddard Stark can put before the King's Court years of correspondence between the accused and my wife. In the early years he defamed my good name and urged her to get an annulment so he could propose marriage to her himself. During that time several attempts were made on my life and even on my firstborn son. He urged her to spy for him and used several revelations that my wife in her innocence revealed to him against us, information about our trade deals or issues the North struggled with at a particular time.

Prince Oberyn of House Martell is willing to testify how he found a dead raven by the road when he travelled across the Riverlands. Attached to the raven's leg was a message from Lord Baelish to Lord Walder of House Frey. The Prince will swear how he then proceeded to actively intercept several communications between both Lords. The word of a Prince of Dorne and the testimony of Grand Maester Pycelle should be enough to convince the sworn nobles that the messages laid out before the King's Court earlier today are indeed authentic.

Grand Maester Pycelle not only authenticated the messages, he can confirm that the symptoms of Lord Arryn's short bout of illness before he died were indeed consistent with the known effects of the poison called 'Tears of Lys'. He can also show you the entry in his diary where he noted that a vial of that particular poison went missing in his cabinet. The jurors of the King's Court have been allowed to review the entry and can all attest that on that same page it is mentioned that on the morning of that exact same day Lord Baelish visited the Grand Maester to ask for a remedy against an itch he claimed to suffer from.

Yara of House Greyjoy a leading house of the Iron Islands can be called to testify that her Uncle, Euron Greyjoy loudly proclaims that he has been promised independence from the Seven Kingdoms by someone in the capital and will wear a Crown soon. She investigated the matter and has handed the jurors of the King's Court a scroll written by Lord Baelish that proves he is the instigator. This scroll has also been examined by Grand Maester Pycelle who swears it is written by the hand of the accused.

Lord Yohn of House Royce of the Vale can attest to Lord Baelish effectively sabotaging the education of the young heir Robin Arryn and can showcase ample examples of the accused using his influence to rule over the Vale through Lysa Arryn and going against the Crown's orders and the realm's best interest.

Lady Olenna of House Tyrell came forward with evidence of several promises he made to the Reach, promises of false marriage alliances, promotions and exemptions from trade taxes the King had not granted him the authority for.

Lord Tyrion of House Lannister of the Rock accuses Lord Baelish of siphoning off funds. He has spent the last moon revising copied pages of the book where income and expenditures of the Crown are recorded by Lord Baelish as the King's Master of Coin and has found irrefutable proof of the accused falsifying figures to the effect that large quantities of gold rightfully belonging to the Crown are missing.

And let us not forget Lady Arryn's most serious accusations of instigating murder and treasonous actions even going so far back as nineteen years.

I can go on citing testimonies of tradesmen that were bribed, servants that were coerced in doing his bidding and so on but I will not take up more time from the King's Court than absolutely necessary.

Lord Baelish, do you still claim all these honourable men from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms think you so important that they all worked together to create false evidence? That every single one of them would forego their honour and lie even under oath? Do you still plead innocent?"

Never before had a room full of nobles been so enthralled by such a long speech. Usually their attention drifted at some point and murmurs would start up, throwing the speaker off balance. However this time, every last person had been riveted and even when the Lord Hand stopped presenting his case, the silence remained. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear how Lord Baelish, Master of Coin would respond to this enormous amount of serious accusations.

Lord Baelish realised he had lost. They hadn't even needed the testimony of Lord Varys. Eddard Stark hadn't used half of the misdeeds the eunuch knew he had perpetrated. At one point, the King had looked ready to murder him and the crowd was no longer on his side. His mind was working overtime. There had to be a way out. It was not possible that everything he had worked on for so long, that all his clever plotting had only gotten him to this point.

A sudden idea struck him. 'Perhaps there was a way out. At the very least, it would gain him time and someone could help him escape. He could sweet talk a guard into letting him go surely.'

He tried to keep his voice steady but it rose higher than he wished when he shouted "I demand a trial by combat."

"First the jury must vote. If they find the proof irrefutable, a convicted traitor to the Crown has no right to a trial by combat." Lord Stark explained in a calm voice.

Petyr looked astounded. He gulped and finally gave in and reached for his handkerchief. Appearances be damned, this trickling sweat was getting on his nerves. He wiped his face clean, put the piece of cloth away slowly and looked into the eyes of his tormentor.

"I am sorry, my Lord Hand. Could you elaborate, please? I am not aware of the existence of such a decree."

"I will gladly to do so after the vote. My Lords, sworn jurors of the King's Court, I ask you formally to speak up and let us know whether you are absolutely sure that enough proof has been presented to the jurors of the King's Court to convict the accused, Lord Petyr of House Baelish for the murder of Lord Arryn and for conspiring against the Crown and endangering the peace in the Seven Kingdoms on multiple occasions. I must ask you to search your conscience and only say 'aye' if you are convinced without a sliver of a doubt that the accused is a traitor and a murderer who should be punished accordingly."

One by one the jurors called out a resounding 'aye' that could be heard by everyone in the large throne room. Lord Stark was the last one to do so.

"Petyr Baelish you have been found guilty through irrefutable proof by a jury of nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and in accordance to the 'Traitor's Law' of which I will give you an official transcript, you are refused the right of trial by combat. This is a law ratified by the High Septon. When irrefutable proof is laid before men, they do not need to trouble the Gods to decide whether the accused is guilty."

"Guards, take him to the black cells where he will remain in solitary confinement until the King decides whether he will commute the normal punishment of death for a traitor to the Crown to lifelong service at the Wall or not. I hereby declare this case closed. The jurors of the King's Court are officially dismissed."

A dumbstruck Petyr Baelish left the room between the two Stark guards without actually registering what he was doing or where he was going. Not a single sign was left of the gleeful proud man that had entered with his head high at the beginning of the session. The crowd saw a crestfallen man leave the room with an empty gaze in his eyes, his head bowed. He reacted neither to their sneers nor their insults. In fact he was in such a daze he probably didn't even hear them.

When the doors of his cell closed with a loud bang he startled and looked up for the very first time. Taking in the empty space he decided to seat himself on the cold floor in a corner. He rested his head against the stone wall. 'I have been defeated, entirely and irrevocably by players I have underestimated big-time. I have lost the Game of Thrones. Or perhaps not entirely. I have one tiny consolation left, one last play up my sleeve. There still is a small chance that Lord Stannis Baratheon will consent to the betrothal of Shireen Baratheon and Robin Arryn. My blood could someday sit on the Iron Throne. That oblivious Lord Arryn never suspected he has given a bastard his honourable name. My bastard!'

***

Lord Eddard Stark left the Great Hall and went in search of Robert Baratheon. He still couldn't afford to let himself feel. He needed to keep himself together for a little while longer. He had seen the King sneak out of the room shortly after Lady Arryn's confession and needed to confront him first. He found him in his bedroom staring at a pitcher of wine. "Robert?"

"Don't worry, Ned. I haven't touched it yet. I am still debating who is the bigger fool. We all fought a war over a lie. Granted, King Aerys was mad, but we were all on the same side at one time. We all plotted to support Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we had a start of a plan in place but then the Mad King showed up at the tourney of Harrenhal and we had to delay. Did you know she didn't love me, Ned?" His blue Baratheon eyes looked pleadingly at his friend.

"Don't answer me. I can read the truth of your face. But I would have made her love me. I would have worshipped the ground she walked on and given her everything she wanted." He sighed and looked down at a drawing of Lyanna Ned didn't know he possessed. "No, that's not true. Not everything. She wanted Prince Rhaegar. I would never have allowed her go to him. I would have chained her to me against her will. I would have made her unhappy, Ned. I do not know what aspect about all of this hurts me the most. I loved her wild spirit but I would have broken it. I can see that now. Why couldn't I see it then?"

Ned didn't think Robert really expected an answer of him. So he kept silent and tried to keep all his own memories of his sister from surfacing. He carried some of the same guilt. Benjen had realised she would never be happy with the marriage they were forcing on her. Ned who prided himself that he loved his sister above all else had been confident at the time that his father had chosen the very best of husbands for her and he had looked forward to their union with joy. Just as Robert, he had not had an inkling of the real reason of her flight at first. He looked at his friend and noticed Robert still sat in the same position and had started talking again.

"I never told you how Littlefinger was always whispering these vile stories about Prince Rhaegar in my ear. My younger self was too convinced of my own importance, of my looks and only too willing to believe the traitor. Baelish fooled us all, didn't he? Did he fool you about Prince Rhaegar as well?"

"Littlefinger never approached me, Robert. You were the Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I was only a second son back then and of no consequence for his games. I hardly knew Prince Rhaegar before all of this happened. But that is no excuse. I knew of his amiable reputation, how the Prince was loved by the smallfolk. I should have suspected something was off. I might not have known Prince Rhaegar but I knew my sister. Lyanna would have resisted and raised hell if someone had tried to abduct her. To succeed in taking her against her will without alerting at least someone, Prince Rhaegar should have planned his move way in advance with lots of help from others. All these rumours about him were so outlandish, so out of character. We were all played masterfully by Lord Baelish." Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Robert, this all happened so long ago and has no bearings on our situation now. You had just decided to start afresh."

"I know, but please allow me to wallow at least a little bit. I had this dream, granted a tragic dream, but now that I know for sure that she never loved me, I don't even have that dream any longer. All my memories of her have been compromised by this knowledge. Just leave me in peace for a while will you?" Robert couldn't look the brother of his former betrothed in the eyes.

Ned however stayed right where he was. "I can't. Not just yet. After you left, some accusations were levelled against me at the trial. I want you to hear them from me instead of from someone else who wants to use this to set us up against each other." Ned needed Robert to hear him out.

The King gave him a fleeting glance before he averted his eyes once more. "They would not succeed, Ned. Who is it that dares to accuse someone of House Stark at my court?"

"Littlefinger."

"Then why are you worried that I would believe that vile person over you? Not a chance in all Seven Hells!" Robert seemed revived all of a sudden. He was able to look Ned straight in the eyes and confronted Ned's gaze. "I must admit though, you have made me rather curious. Now I really want to hear what this traitor threw at you in his hour of desperation."

"He accused me of stealing Winterfell from its rightful heir. According to him my elder brother sired a trueborn son before he died. He claims that the young man has reached adulthood and has been spotted in the North. According to Baelish, he waited until he is old enough before claiming his inheritance." Ned steeled himself for another outburst but knew it was better Robert heard it from him. If he was present when Robert heard this last titbit, he could immediately counter any irrational behaviour or action from him. "Littlefinger also implied that that young man and the alleged owner of the dragon are one and the same."

Robert looked at his friend for a long time. To Ned's surprise his expression was calm and steady when he finally spoke up. "If you vow before me that to the best of your knowledge no living son of Brandon exists, I will believe you, Ned."

"That is an easy one, Robert. I vow on my honour as a Stark and on the lives of all five of my children that I do not know of the existence of a son, true-born or bastard sired by my brother Brandon of House Stark. The Old Gods may strike me down this instant if this is not the absolute truth." His words were true but he had to muster all his strength to keep the guilt that welled up inside him from showing on his face.

"Matter closed." The King stated. "Do investigate the rumours about those dragons or dragon though. It gives me the creeps each time I hear someone mentioning these flying abominations. Perhaps that young man is just a sellsword of the Golden Company who has similar features to the members of House Stark, dark hair, grey eyes, you know."

"I'll go straight to the source of the rumours each time I hear about them." Ned promised ambiguously and tried to avoid facing his conflicted feelings for now by finding something else to focus on.

"Come on Robert. Get up from your bed. Let's go hunt some boar or something. I need to get rid of all this pent up energy and frustration after being stuck the entire morning in that courtroom. Perhaps we can relax our minds and come up with an original way to punish Littlefinger." Ned reached his hand out to pull the King from his bed.

"A boar hunt! Now that is the first sensible word I heard all day. "What do I always say: 'shooting a boar and fucking a woman afterward, there's no better way to leave this world'. Go get your weapons and change your attire. I will meet you at the stables. If we hurry we still have the better part of the afternoon to hunt down some nice specimens."

***

Later that night, Ned was preparing for bed. He had spent a lovely afternoon in the woods. Over the last few sennights he had often caught glimpses of his old friend. It had started during the voyage to King's Landing after the drunken incident. Still those had been mere glimpses and mostly of the man's intelligent mind. This afternoon however, it seemed as if his long lost boisterous but warm-hearted friend from before the Rebellion was back to stay. Robert had not once uttered a statement that had rubbed Ned the wrong way. It was as if they had both been catapulted back in time and had resumed their old roles during the hunt. They had only needed a look or a small gesture to understand what the other was planning. After they had successfully killed a boar and a deer, they had joked about who had taken the cleaner shot, just like they used to do when they grew up together during their formative years at the Vale. He sighed, thinking about what lay ahead and removed his doublet. Suddenly he noticed a small movement in a dark corner and reached for the sword he had discarded only moments before.

"I am no threat, Lord Stark."

Ned relaxed when he heard the sing song voice of Lord Varys. "Hells, you almost frightened me to death. Is it really necessary to sneak up on me that way? How did you get in here, by the way? The guards at the door assured me they saw nobody enter the corridor." He put the sword back on the chair.

"Come now, an accomplished warrior like you doesn't get frightened by a mere shadow. I didn't want anyone to think we were conspiring. They could get the right idea." He winked. "I came via a secret passage. I'll show you the entrance then you can block it after I leave. That way you will no longer receive surprise visits, not even from me. If you need to speak to me in private for some reason, leave a candle behind the doorway and keep it unlocked. One of my little birds will fetch me as soon as possible."

"Make sure you show me." Ned's tone betrayed his annoyance at the unannounced intrusion. "And then reassure me that it is the only secret passageway that gives entrance to my quarters. Now what are we conspiring about tonight?"

"I wanted to keep you informed of the latest messages, the latest rumours, and my current worries, my Lord Hand."

Lord Stark sighed. "It appears this will take some time then. Please sit down Lord Varys. Can I offer you some refreshment?"

Varys took the time to install himself at the small table and adjusted his robe around him with deliberate care. "I have no need of refreshments for the time being, my Lord Hand. I am fine. Let me congratulate you on a well-orchestrated trial. I enjoyed watching him enter the room with a confident stride and look at everyone as if he was the most important person in the Seven Kingdoms. He looked so shocked when he realised he had been played by the honourable Lord Stark. He never saw it coming from you."

"I am not at all sure if that is a compliment, Lord Varys. It just means I am an even more accomplished conniver than that despicable person."

"Come now, my Lord Hand. When you are doing the right thing, you are no conniver, you are just plain smart. He was guilty of everything you accused him of, was he not?"

"That he was. I can't take all the credit for the outcome of the trial though. It was a joint effort. Everyone helped provide evidence. I did not mention several key players to keep them in the shadows, but you, Lord Reed, my brother, Jon and countless others helped us gather the evidence. Even the King helped."

"Nevertheless you directed the trial in a theatrical fashion, my Lord Hand." Fawning over people was something Varys did often. That and being obsequious were his trademark tricks to deceive everyone into thinking he was just a pleasant, pudgy man, familiar with the pleasantries of court life. He mostly succeeded. People usually underestimated him and consequently didn't see through his schemes. This time however it was no trick, he really meant to compliment Lord Stark.

"That was on the orders of the King, believe it or not. Again I can't take all the credit. You coached the jurors and they all performed their role impeccably. Not a single one of them spoke before their turn, no outburst, they all kept their faces blank. I am sure Littlefinger must have tried to read their allegiances from their faces, searching for the weakest link and came up empty."

"They were all eager enough to witness his downfall and were only too happy to contribute to it. I never had more dedicated pupils. I was glad however that Lord Mace of House Tyrell had been delayed at High Garden due to the death of his castellan. I am not sure he would have kept up his role as impeccably as the rest. Did you watch Baelish's face when you refused him the right to a trial by combat?" Varys couldn't help but gloat.

"That was the sole purpose of creating that law so swiftly and getting the High Septon on board without delay. I have you to thank for that suggestion as well. I would have forgotten that combat by trial was a divine right and we needed the ratification of the High Septon. I am sure Littlefinger would have found that loophole and used it somehow to get out of his predicament against all odds."

"It was in the realm's best interest to rid the Seven Kingdoms of Petyr Baelish, my Lord. It motivated me to help you play the game. I must admit that you are doing an excellent job as Hand. You passed decent laws, have gotten the King to behave and restructured the small council so the realm is better represented. However did you get him to agree to give Prince Oberyn, or a representative of his choosing, a seat?"

"I simply pointed out to Robert that I represent the Northern most Kingdom and my good family trusts me to represent the Riverlands as well. Lord Royce who has accepted to be the Master of Laws represents the Vale. With Lord Tyrell representing the Reach and King Robert representing the Stormlands and the Crownlands that leaves only the Rock, Dorne and the Ironborn out in the cold. I told him he could insult House Greyjoy since, they don't care one jot about a position on the small council, Lord Tyrion was not likely to complain to safeguard his niece and nephew, but that it was high time to repair the relationship with Dorne and it would not do to insult them further by not giving their Kingdom a voice in a reformed small council. The King gave me leave to try but bet me a horse that there was no way in hell that I could get Prince Oberyn to accept. Little does he know that Prince Oberyn has been a close ally to my house for years now." Ned looked smug. "I will enjoy choosing one of Robert's prized stallions when Prince Oberyn's scroll announcing his acceptance arrives."

"I repeat, Lord Hand, in the short time you are here you have done a tremendous job. I am only worried that you are doing your job too well." Varys' sing song voice sounded accusing.

"Do not speak in riddles, Varys. I am a man of the North. We say what we mean without wasting time."

"I am sure you do, my Lord. But that takes all the fun out of it. And I know you understand that at least to some small degree because you played a while with our accused letting him think he could worm his way out of his predicament before you laid out the more serious charges before him." Varys kept his calm demeanour but his eyes twinkled.

"Varys, you are trying my patience." Ned was tired, not only physically tired from the hunt, but his mind that had finally released the strain of the trial during the pleasurable hunt was not in the mood to once more having to cope with the intricate political games of the capital.

"Well, I only meant to say that those reforms you instated shortly after arriving in King's Landing, especially the one outlawing the abuse of power by the armed forces in the capital, have already had an effect on the smallfolk living here."

"That is a good thing, is it not?" Ned felt uneasy suddenly. He had an inkling where Varys was going with this.

"It is, Lord Stark. However combined with the fact that the King has been seen walking around sober, behaving himself in public and attending more meetings in two sennights than in the twelve moons before you became Hand of the King, well, the people are warming up to him and that is not good for our cause. I have been working day and night to redirect the people's attention from the King to the new Hand who has a really good influence on his Grace and if that good man left, then surely the King would relapse and return to his normal habits of drunken whoring and spending the taxpayer's money."

"But." Ned started but actually didn't know what rebuttal to offer.

"You are hurting your nephew's cause considerably, Lord Stark. The smallfolk love a redemption story. The King is already looking much healthier. He has visibly lost weight and has been civil in public. I hate to imagine what will happen if he marries a beautiful wife and the Gods forbid she happens to be pregnant when everything goes down. If Jon deposes a beloved King, he will not be welcomed and the people will call him a usurper, an invader."

"I don't know what to say to this right this instant, Varys. I really don't." Ned frowned and averted his eyes.

"Do you know which ruler you want to serve?" Varys has dropped all pretence and studied Lord Stark's reaction closely.

Lord Stark's head snapped back and he faced Varys, all indecision had left his eyes. "Yes of course. Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name. That has never been in doubt. Robert on the other hand once was my best friend and he is changing for the better. How can I in good conscience steer him back to being a lazy drunk King?"

"You can at least hold off on passing laws the people appreciate but let our Targaryen Prince come up with them. I am almost certain the law you just passed outlawing misconduct of armed forces was at least partially if not entirely Aegon's idea."

"Way to take away all pleasure of our victory over a long-standing nemesis today." Ned looked dejected and guilty.

"Somebody must take up the difficult role of confronting his fellow conspirator when he is making a serious mistake. You will have to choose, Ned." It was the first time Varys had been so informal with the Lord of Winterfell. Ned steeled himself knowing this meant the lecture was probably getting worse and he was right. Varys' next words were even worse than he had expected.

"You must face the consequences of your actions now or this won't work. Robert Baratheon and Aegon Targaryen cannot live together in the realm. Banishing Robert to the Wall or exiling him from Westeros will not be an option. Better you come to terms with this now. Even if it is a restoration of the rightful ruler, this is a rebellion and the ones on the side that loses are traitors to the Crown. If you let Robert live, there will be uprisings. He must die and his legacy must be that he was an unfit ruler who took the throne unlawfully by slaughtering every member of House Targaryen that he could get his hands on, even the small innocent children."

"I need to think on this. There must be a better alternative that we are overlooking. There simply must be." Ned felt like he was living a nightmare. The day had started so brightly. He really thought he was handling this Hand thing and the politics in the capital with expertise. But one small conversation and suddenly he felt very naïve and incompetent. He startled when he heard Varys speak.

"Please do, my Lord Hand. I need to do some damage control right away. My little birds need to sing songs about the Golden Company and their dragon in Essos once more. It was not a good thing that Littlefinger was allowed to connect your house to the dragonrider. One day, Robert will put two and two together. It is just a matter of time before someone tells him the boy who rides a dragon is the spitting image of Lyanna Stark. Not to mention the effort I have already put in to nullify the rumours about a resurrected Sword of the Morning who is fighting by his side."

"I needed to let Baelish defend himself at the trial. I could not silence him mid-sentence. The trial was fixed enough as it was."

"Do not think of it that way or you will never again have a peaceful night. Prosecutors need to strategize before a trial to assure the guilty party can't worm its way out of a conviction. Littlefinger was guilty of treason ten times over. It was a fair verdict. Now get some rest and leave the rumour mill to me. I have an idea on how to fix the situation with King Robert. The only thing I need you to do is stay neutral. Do not keep him from starting to drink again and making mistakes."

"I'll do my best. I'll keep myself busy with trivial matters and avoid his company as much as possible. I hope no more will be needed from me in this regard."

"Just keep your eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious. Jon still needs all the information and advice from us he can get. Davos Seaworth is doing all he can but the situation in the North is troublesome."

"Varys, after all this I do not have any energy left to discuss the problems beyond the Wall tonight."

"Not even to hear status reports from Ser Gerold at Dragonstone, never mind our other allies?"

Ned just shook his head and didn't meet Varys' eyes.

I'll leave you then, Lord Hand. Perhaps we can meet in the Godswood tomorrow afternoon? You will have to welcome lady Olenna and her son with his pompous entourage in the morning. My little birds told me the fair lady Margaery accompanies them this time. Best keep your King far from her. Anyway I'll be in the Godswood the second half of tomorrow afternoon. Rest well." He bowed and disappeared behind the hidden door he had pointed out earlier.

Ned fastened the latch, pulled a heavy chair in front of it and sat down. What a pickle he had made of things. It had indeed been Jon's idea to limit the authority of the armed forces in the capital. His nephew had come up with it after he had heard several horror stories from Sandor that had been confirmed by his three Kingsguards. And here he had thought years of scheming had made him a proficient player in the game of thrones. It seemed not. Varys had put him in his place with just a few sentences. He was a mere novice who had stolen his nephew's thunder. He pushed the memories of his lovely afternoon with Robert to the back of his mind. He needed to get his priorities straight and the sooner he came to terms with the consequences, the better. Still, he couldn't silence his inner voice that urged him to keep looking for a solution that offered a better fate to Robert.

***

Ned had been up since dawn and was dressed when he received an early summons from his King. Avoiding Robert would be harder than he had imagined. He was hardly through the doorway of the King's sitting room when Robert burst out.

"We need to carry out the sentences, Ned. I do not see the need to tarry. The verdict was unanimous."

"I agree, Robert. But I could have sworn I heard you say sentences, as in plural?" The King sat at a small desk where several scrolls were arranged in a neatly fashion.

"The Freys and the Ironborn are guilty of conspiring against the Crown. The Boltons, well I am sure these sadists are guilty as hell as well but I am afraid we do not have a case against them. "

"The jurors didn't condemn Walder Frey nor the Ironborn, Robert. What have you decided to do with Lord Baelish?"

"There is only one outcome, Ned. The man is a traitor to the Crown and guilty of murdering the Hand of the King. He will be beheaded as soon as everything is put into place to make a big show of it in the yard before the Sept of Bailor."

"I'll make the necessary arrangements." Ned was about to leave the room again when the King called him back.

"I have already spoken to the City Watch, Ned. They know what to do. This isn't the first time a man has been executed in the capital. You just need to show up." He seemed to consider something. "Maybe you will want to execute him yourself. Your way is the Old Way as I recall. Just let me know whether we will need Ilyn Payne's services or not."

"Best let Payne do it. Most of his crimes were not against my house but against the realm. I did not pass the sentence. The Crown's Court did."

"All right, suit yourself. Just show up on time then. You will need to read the official verdict and sentence out loud to the crowd. Now about not having the legal means to condemn the Freys, I am not talking about beheading them or even declaring them traitors to the Crown. I am thinking of taking away their privileges as Lords of the crossing. I will no longer allow them to ask a toll for every passage. Let's draft a royal decree that grants everyone free passage. The only services I will allow them to charge travellers for are meals or overnight stays and that only if they are requested. Any violation must be reported to the Crown immediately. If enough proof is provided, the Crown will take measures and install another house as Lords of the crossing. If necessary a royal army will lay siege to the Twins.

"That sounds a bit drastic, Robert. Perhaps we should sit on this for a while. What if they revolt and make a pact with the Ironborn? Do you really want another Greyjoy rebellion on your hands?"

"You take away all my fun, Ned. But I'll concede. We'll table this for a few days. Lysa Arryn though, any thoughts on what I should do with her?"

"She is a victim of a master conniver and she has a young son who loves her very much. What if we give her house arrest and foster the boy out to the eldest son of Yohn Royce at the Vale. We will let her see the boy regularly but always with a member of House Royce present. It is easy to keep her contained at the Eyrie. If ever you need a secure prison, that fortress in the Vale would do very well."

"You are right, I should be somewhat lenient for Arryn's widow. I fell for Littlefinger's lies as well. Let her go home and be a prisoner in her own home. But at the first sign of trouble, she still faces the death sentence. She has committed murder after all."

"I'll be sure to tell her that, your Grace. I'll make sure she won't be given free reign of the Eyrie. She will be confined to her quarters. They give access to a large balcony with some greenery." Ned bowed formally and tried a second time to leave the King's presence. "I have a meeting to attend to, something about the sewer system. I am sure you will not want to be present."

A simple hand gesture gave Ned permission to retreat. He left quickly and mentally reviewed the rest of his day. First a few dull meetings, then formally receiving the newly arrived delegation of the Reach and keep them from forcing a betrothal on the King before his annulment is granted. No time to start his intended search for the Baratheon bastards today. Hopefully he would have a productive meeting with Varys in the Godswood. He needed all the guidance Varys had to offer. Yesterday he had still been full of the trial and had not asked for the status of things on Dragonstone. Now the not knowing plagued him. He estimated that Ser Gerold had already landed on Dragonstone. If he had calculated it right, even the Targaryen Princess could be living there by now. Somehow no rumours of her had reached the capital yet. They would someday though, any day even. He needed to be vigilant. Friend or not, Robert would have his head if he was not careful.

Interlude 19: Revelations at Castle Black

"Jon! What are you doing here?" Gendry dropped what he was doing. He cleaned his hands with a small cloth and embraced his friend. Jon returned his hug. He was glad to see his friend looked well fed and well rested.

"I came to check whether you were still alive or not. We have an ongoing bet as to the cause of your demise. Either you are withering away from loneliness or you are killing yourself by working non-stop to create the most beautiful weapons we have ever seen." Jon added that last bit when he spotted a stash of weapons on a table in the corner of the workplace.

"Wow Gendry. These look amazing! Jon picked up an axe head. Are these as strong as they are exquisite?"

"O yee of little faith." Gendry grinned. "Before I forget, I am very glad to see you." He picked up an axe head while he spoke and rammed it into a wooden beam with all his might. "There, does that satisfy you, my Prince?" Gendry mocked, illustrating how much strength it took to remove the axe head. It was embedded rather deep into the wood.

Jon looked with increasing wonder at the various ways Gendry tried to get the axe out of the wooden beam. "I think congratulations are in order. It looks even stronger than a steel one. Perhaps if you put a handle through the axe eye, you would have more leverage to pull it out?" Jon suggested when Gendry still hadn't succeeded to free the axe head.

"It is not though. Stronger than steel I mean." Gendry was now busy hammering a handle through the eye of the axe. "But it comes close. Noye and I perfected the procedure while you were gone. It made me think of something else but perhaps it is too good an idea to discuss out here. It is only a theory, mind you but I can't shake the idea."

"You know, you are starting to sound a bit like Howland Reed. But I'll let you keep your trade secrets for now. How are things here, Gendry? Are they treating you well? Where is Donal Noye, by the way?"

"Things are great, Jon. Noye is an excellent craftsman, perhaps not as skilled as Tobho Mott with the finer stuff. You know, like the badges I made for you or the hilt on Arya's sword. But the man knows his steel. He showed me new ways to get the balance of a sword or a hammer just right. I am glad I stayed behind, Jon. Noye asked me if wanted to repair Cotter Pyke's sword. The hilt was crooked and the carvings worn away. You know by now how I take pride in creating hilts that are not only functional and feel good in your hand but at the same time are pleasing to the eye. Cotter Pyke was well pleased with the end result. He approached me personally to thank me. He tried to persuade me to become a brother of the Night's Watch." Gendry stumbled against Jon as he was catapulted backwards the moment he succeeded in pulling the axe from the beam.

Jon held on to Gendry and turned him around to face him. Gendry watched the raised eyebrow and the mock put out expression on Jon's face. He grinned out loud. "Not a chance in Seven Hells! As if I want to miss out on all the fun. And I don't speak merely of the 'take no wife' part. I want to be present when you kick King Robert's ass and take his throne out from under him."

Jon had released his grip on his friend the moment Gendry started grinning. "I am glad. Davos will be relieved to hear you are treated well and look content here for the time being. Just to be sure, you are still get along with Noye then? He is not envious of the interest Pyke takes in you?" Jon checked.

"I do, very well actually. Mind you we do not talk a lot. Not like the long conversations you are used to having with people. We just grunt and drop a few words to give instructions while we work on the material. Though there was that one awkward moment during our lunch break a few days ago. I think I hurt his feelings a bit."

"What happened, Gendry? Did he pester you about being a bastard?" Jon wiped the metal dust of a chair and sat down.

"No, quite the opposite really. He knew I have never been to Storm's End and also that I have never met either of the Baratheon brothers. He wanted to tell me about them. I listened well enough to the description of the mighty fortress that Storm's End apparently is. How it endured many sieges but has never fallen to any attacker. One of your ancestor's helped build it. Did you know that, Jon?" Gendry put the axe head back with the others and sat down facing Jon.

"Of course, Bran the Builder of House Stark, the same man that built the Wall. That was a part of my daily history lessons. I think I learned about every keep in Westeros important enough to house a noble Lord. Storm's End being the seat of a Lord Paramount featured prominently in these lessons. But that doesn't tell me what went wrong during that lunch break."

"Nothing went wrong exactly. I just reacted badly when he started to talk about my father and his brothers when they were young. He apparently liked the younger version of Robert Baratheon and I just wasn't ready to hear the man who ignored my existence and didn't keep me safe from his wife's family, be praised to the Seven Heavens. I shut him up rather abruptly. We have avoided the subject ever since." Gendry looked at the dirt under his fingernails.

"But you still manage to work together?" Jon asked wanting to be sure Gendry would be all right if he stayed at Castle Black a bit longer.

"Yes, like I said, we just avoid the subject now. I regret my outburst though. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to know a bit more about the man who sired me. Perhaps I even inherited some characteristics from him." Gendry's eyes met Jon's, a tentative look in them.

"Well we all know how you resemble him and that you both prefer a warhammer. Just apologize to Noye and tell him you were caught off guard and overreacted. I am sure he'll understand. He probably keeps silent not to hurt your feelings and will tell you about him again if you just ask. Speaking about Noye, is he not around? Is there nobody lurking close by that can overhear us?"

"Noye is with the new recruits in the training yard to assess what they will need for armour and weapons. He said he would not be back till lunch. I have the place to myself." Gendry studied his friend closely. "What's up, Jon? I can see you have something on your mind. We are alone here. Out with it."

"Did you happen to encounter Jaime Lannister or Renly Baratheon yet?" Jon asked him, avoiding eye contact.

"I haven't seen them personally. I have heard a lot of gossip though. They apparently arrived five days ago. Jaime Lannister has been in solitary confinement in the cells beneath Castle Black ever since. Prince Renly on the other hand has been given chambers in the same tower the Maester normally resides in. I hear he always takes his meals in solitude and has only been seen on the rampart a few times to catch some fresh air but our noble Prince hasn't mingled with the commoners yet. Why do you want to know?"

"I am worried about their reaction when they hear of a dragonrider's presence north of the Wall." Now it was Jon who was fiddling with his hands.

"Really?" Gendry looked sceptic at his friend's atypical behaviour. "Lannister won't have the opportunity to tell anyone soon and Prince Renly can be heard muttering under his breath about how he detests his brother. Is that the only reason you brought them up, Jon? Truthfully?"

"I want to confront Jaime Lannister, all right. I just saw Cotter Pyke when I picked up some messages and asked permission for a quick visit to his cell." Jon's defiant attitude didn't seem to bother Gendry.

"I won't stop you if that is why you were reluctant to reveal this to me." His friend simply stated. "Hells, I'll even come along to taunt him. How about 'Hi Jaime dear, I am the King's bastard and have come here to harass you for cuckolding my dearest father. Better sleep with one eye open from now on'." Gendry grinned but Jon stayed serious.

"Be my guest. The fact that Bran lives, makes him no less a child murderer. I thank the Gods every day for putting the idea of that climbing harness in my head. I never told you that it came to me in a dream? Ever since I heard of Bran's fall, I am certain the Gods are on our side."

"On the side of innocent children, more like it." Gendry nudged Jon's shoulder. "What about it? Shall we go and harass a Kingslayer, child murderer and sisterfucker?"

Jon immediately started for the door. "You coming?"

"And here I was fooled for an instant into thinking that you loved me so much that you had come all the way to see lonesome me." It was meant as a joke but Jon could hear a faint disappointment in his friend's tone.

"I would have checked up on you, even if it was too soon for these two to have arrived. I also did it for Davos. For some unimaginable reason that man cares about you. I want to stay in his good graces." Jon joked but put his arm around Gendry's shoulder to emphasize his sincerity. "Still doubting you are one of my best friends? It is me who should feel insulted."

"Sometimes it is hard to believe, Jon. Besides, you have so much going on in your life."

"Stop right there Gendry." He took back his arm only to face Gendry, put his two hands on his friend's shoulders and forced him to look straight into his eyes.

"Whether we see each other every day or only two times a year, we will always have this unbreakable bond. At least that is how I feel about it. And not because you are a skilled blacksmith or can use that warhammer of yours frightfully well. Not even because you are speaking like a literate man these days, 'o yee of little faith', where did that come from? No, it is because you are a kind person who happens to have struck a chord with me. Haven't you ever met someone and known right away that you could get along with him or her and that you could trust that person implicitly?"

Jon paused when he heard footsteps. Going over to the window he saw a brother of the Night's Watch cross the far corner of the court. When the man was out of sight and his footsteps could no longer be heard, he turned away from the window and returned to his original spot facing his friend.

"Have you ever considered the fact that we are actually family as well as friends? Your father's grandmother was Princess Rhaelle of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon V, aunt to King Aerys II. That makes us third cousins, Gendry. You have a rightful claim to being a member of my very small Targaryen family." Jon's mouth curled upwards but his eyes stayed serious, his unwavering stare not permitting Gendry to look away.

"Come on Jon, or should I call you cousin now? You are getting all mushy on me now. Quit already, or you are going to make me feel stupid all over again." He said in a rather brusque manner to avoid showing too much of the warm brotherly feelings Jon's words engendered in him.

"You get it, though?" Jon dropped his hands but both youths stayed rooted to their spot, both struggling to suppress their slight embarrassment. Men didn't talk about feelings like women, they acted upon them.

Gendry swallowed. "I get it. And to answer your question, yes I have met such people before that I felt an immediate bond with. Two persons fit that bill, Davos Seaworth and", he paused only to continue using a mocking tone and feigning a doubtful expression, "I think there also might have been some strange Prince who hides his real identity and who happens to be an obscure member of my bizarre family."

Jon however stayed serious. "Can I count on you to have my back in there? I'll try to contain myself but it will take all of my self-control not to do something stupid when I look into the eyes of the man who attempted to murder my little cousin."

Gendry nodded, looking serious once more. "I will always have your back, Jon. Let's get on with it."

***

It was a fortunate coincidence that the two brothers of the Night's Watch guarding Jaime Lannister were part of the contingent of Targaryen supporters that had helped Jon leave Castle Black safely the day after Maester Aemon's funeral. They immediately led Jon and Gendry to Jaime Lannister's plain but clean cell and chained the man to his bunk bed to safeguard the Targaryen Prince before letting both young men enter.

"Can you give us some privacy, please?" Jon asked the guards who just nodded and told them they would be in the room at the beginning of the corridor where the guards usually took their meals.

The rusty sounds of the cell doors closing behind his visitors enticed Jaime Lannister to look up.

Two male figures kept the largest distance possible from him by staying with their back against the bars that kept him imprisoned. Fortunate for him it was also the spot that caught the bit of daylight that filtered in from two small windows that were too high up for him to be able to see what was happening outside. He startled when he studied the faces of this unexpected company.

"I do not believe I have had the pleasure? Nevertheless, I am almost certain that a Baratheon and a Stark are honouring me with their company." Despite his shabby appearance Jaime Lannister still managed to look arrogant sitting upon the modest bed.

"I do not believe it is a pleasure." Jon's harsh tone immediately put the prisoner on the defensive.

"Perhaps I should have called you two a Waters and a Snow instead? Am I talking to two bastards by any chance?" Jaime went for his most snobbish articulation.

"The only bastard in here is you, child murdering Kingslayer." Jon retorted quickly to prevent Gendry from reacting to the insult.

"I didn't end up murdering him in the end." Jaime sighed and hunched his shoulders all sign of arrogance gone. "I admit, that was not my finest hour. I am deeply sorry for succumbing to the impulse of the moment, thinking that I had found the only means of protecting the lives of the ones dearest to me. It was a rash act in a moment of panic. Is the Stark boy all right?"

"He is. That doesn't help your case though. It was sheer luck he survived." Jon did not allow him to be swayed by Jaime Lannister's tardy apology.

"Will you at least tell me who you are? You look like a Stark, even more than Eddard Stark's heir one might say. Oh, are you perhaps this alleged son of Brandon Stark that wants to steel Winterfell from the noble Eddard Stark? Have you come to avenge your cousin? Please, don't let me stop you. It will prevent me from slowly freezing to dead after I have lost my mind in this small cell. I am not made for a solitary life in miserable circumstances. And here I thought I would stand out at the Wall and in no time would command this ragtag band of misfits." Jaime chose his words and tone to be as provocative as possible. It was the only real human contact and distraction he had received in days and perhaps one of these youth's would do him the favour of ending his misery.

"Jon!" Gendry held him back when Jon advanced on the Kingslayer.

"Yes, even your voice sounds like Robert Baratheon." The Kingslayer now turned his attention to the other young man trying to get under his skin. "Are you perhaps one of the many male bastards that will miss out on a royal inheritance, you poor thing? You are his spitting image, you know? Everyone who knew Robert Baratheon when he was young will know who sired you, boy."

"If I am a bastard, at least I am not an incestuous one. Be careful, Kingslayer. Tommen and Myrcella are not safe yet. I am closer to being legitimized than they will ever be." Gendry bluffed and watched with glee how the man blanched.

Jaime gave both young men another once over. "Why have you two green boys taken all this trouble to travel to the end of the world to visit me? You clearly are not sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Will you at least tell me that?" Even though he was rattled by the threat to his children he tried to brave it out.

Jon sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall next to the bars sending the message that he was not leaving anytime soon. "I want to hear exactly what happened in the throne room the day you stabbed King Aerys II." Jon stared deep into Jaime Lannister's eyes, conveying his intent. He would not leave the man in peace before he obtained this information.

Both men looked at him with wide eyes. Gendry looked even more shocked than Jaime Lannister. Jon silenced his friend with a small gesture.

"Why does that matter to you?" Jaime Lannister reacted finally. When no answer was forthcoming he sighed deeply and looked down at the ground. "Nobody ever asked me with enough insistence to get past my first refusal to talk about my motivations. They all just assumed the worst." He looked up again and tried once more to gauge his interrogator's motivation. "This all happened such a long time ago. Why do you want to know so badly? I bet you weren't even born yet."

Jon was surprised himself that the Kingslayer had it right. He hadn't realised that he wanted to know this so very badly before he had asked the question out loud. Although he knew almost everything that had happened at the end of the Rebellion, nobody had been able to tell him what had driven a seventeen year old Kingsguard sworn to defend his King with his life, to break his sacred vow and cowardly stab the old man in the back.

"It matters to me." His simple statement and his entire demeanour betrayed to the two men present that he spoke the absolute truth.

A nagging suspicion entered Jaime's mind. He dismissed it offhand though. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed when he looked at the young man who sat there clearly with no intent of dropping the subject. Well, what did it matter anyway? He was doomed to die here in this cold land, far away from all he held dear. This was probably one of his last meaningful conversations. For the rest of his life, his future companions - or should he say 'brothers' - would be illiterate people at best, common thieves and murderers at worst.

For the first time in eighteen years he described the horrors of that fateful day. He started haltingly but it all came pouring out of him. Even in the midst of his turmoil, he saw the Stark lookalike cringe when he told him how King Aerys' final orders were for Ser Jaime to kill his own father and for his pyromancers to burn down the keep and the entire city including its population with wildfire. He deliberately mimicked the Mad King's shriek 'burn them all' several times to make an even greater impact on his strange audience. The young man's Stark eyes narrowed when Jaime sneered that the honourable Eddard Stark had judged him guilty on the spot without giving the young knight he was at that time a chance to explain.

Absolute silence reigned when Jaime stopped his tale. Overwhelmed by the memories he just relived, Jaime's eyes were once more trained on the ground to avoid looking at both young men.

Jon had never suspected he could feel empathy for any of Jaime Lannister's deeds. He struggled with the idea that that one deed could possibly have changed the entire course of the promising young knight's life. He wondered whether the incestuous affair with his twin had started before or after the Rebellion. Then the thought of a crying and shaking Bran flittered through his mind.

"He was my kin but I absolve you of his murder." Jon finally said. "However, I do not absolve you of standing by and letting them murder Princess Elia and her children. You were sworn to protect her as well. You did nothing when they were put to death in such a gruesome way. Nor do I absolve you of the murderous act that almost killed my cousin Bran Stark. I hope you rot in this place for that last deed and that death will come slowly and painfully."

The Lannister's mouth fell open. "Kin to the Mad King, cousin to Bran Stark? Are you the dragonrider that has been spotted over the Narrow Sea and in Westeros? Are you really the alleged son of Brandon Stark? I can't for the life of me come up with a plausible candidate with Valyrian blood to have birthed you? I didn't know the Mad King sired female bastards? Will you at least tell me who your mother was?" He tried once more to make sense of his strange visitors.

"Come on, Jon." Gendry who had stayed upright the entire time held out his hand to help Jon up. "Don't you think it is time we leave before you regret anything you might say or do to that despicable man?"

"A Baratheon defending a dragonrider, wait until King Robert hears about that." The surprise of Jon sharing a kinship with the Mad King had temporarily put aside all the old feelings that had welled up during his agonising tale of his kingslaying act.

Meanwhile Jon had accepted Gendry's help to get up and towered over Jaime Lannister. It lent extra credit to his next threat. "It certainly won't be you who will tell him that. Nobody would believe you anyway. I heard a little bird tell me that King Robert will make sure you suffer an excruciatingly painful death if ever he hears your name mentioned again."

"Hey," Gendry interjected. "I thought it was my line to tell this vermin that he should sleep with one eye open from now on."

Jon ignored Gendry's statement and went on to threaten Jaime's children.

"Just know that I control Eddard Stark and through him I control the fate of Tommen and Myrcella. I can arrange for them to be treated so badly, they will wish they were dead every moment of every single day in their incestuous lives. I can even oblige them in that and order someone to push them off the top of Casterly Rock."

He paused and changed the tone of his voice significantly adopting a beguiling tone. "But if you are a good boy and help fight the enemy beyond the Wall, perhaps I will wake up some day in the future and happen to be in a very benign mood for once. So benign that I might even be willing to use my substantial influence to get Tommen and Myrcella legitimized as Lannisters."

He stepped closer to the chained man. Towering over him he made sure that the tone of his voice matched his intimidating stance. "Better stay quiet about both of us and keep me as a friend, sisterfucker. Now ponder that for a bit but don't overwork your tiny brain. Until we meet again."

Jon turned around and left the cell not bothering to look back and see the multitude of feelings cross Jaime's face. He heard Gendry's steps behind him and that was all he needed to know.

***

"Jon, was that wise? I get that you wanted to torture him a bit for pushing Bran but you revealed an awful lot in there. What if he speaks to Prince Renly or some other Baratheon supporter? And what about those threats against Tommen and Myrcella?" Gendry had barely contained himself long enough until they were outside in a secluded spot where nobody could overhear him to vent his frustration.

"It wasn't my best idea." Jon admitted. He looked drained and very guilty. "I hardly know how I will face Davos and the rest now. So please give me some respite and spare me your sermons for a bit." Jon now looked beseechingly at Gendry.

When his friend didn't give an inch and kept staring him down Jon exclaimed. "I was bluffing, Gendry. I would never hurt innocent children. Don't you know that about me by now? At one point, I even felt sorry for Lannister. Just imagine, he was hardly our age when he saved an entire city from being burned alive and instead of being heralded as a hero he has had to live with being called the Kingslayer because of it. "

Gendry relaxed his stance. "I just wanted to hear you say it, Jon. You looked so guilty just now that I thought you really believed yourself to be a monster. You did nothing more than threaten a child murderer who had it coming. I only wished you hadn't revealed your shared blood with the Targaryen King. That is all. I enjoyed seeing him rattled though. Perhaps you haven't done that much damage. I am sure you stating firmly that you are 'controlling Eddard Stark' will have convinced him he was right in thinking you are the rightful heir to Winterfell. He will never make the connection to your real father now."

"Nor to my real mother. Come with me to visit your half-Uncle Prince Renly now that I am on a roll?" Jon baited his friend.

"Jon!"

"Just kidding. Come let us find us a pint of ale each. I want to wind down a bit and spend some time with my friend before I fly off again. Any chance you will let me take some of those newly crafted dragonglass weapons along?"

"By all means. They are meant to be put to use. What are the plans once Noye and I have used up all the material you brought, Jon? Should I come find you at the Free Folk settlement?"

"I will send someone to fetch you if I am unable to come myself. Do you know how long before you are ready here?"

"The day after next. I look forward to more of the material arriving. If there really is a ship's hold load full of dragonglass at my disposal, I can take the risk of ruining some of it to try out my new theory."

"About that? Will you tell me now instead of just making me curious?"

Gendry looked around first and then whispered. "Dragonfire, Jon. Dragonfire burns hotter than any fire I have ever seen. The hotter I stoke the fire in the forge, the better the quality of the weapons. Imagine what I could do with dragonfire at my disposal. I could perhaps come close to creating something as strong as Valyrian Steel."

Jon shared his excitement. "What a smart thing to come up with!"

"Sam might take some credit as well. I'd like to say we came up with it together."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed, Gendry. I think Viserion is the one most likely to accommodate you. I will have to ask him though. Perhaps we can try that at East Watch? The dragonglass will arrive there soon enough."

"The men here told me there is a forge over there but nobody really with the skills to achieve much."

"We'll ask Cotter to give you exclusive use of the forge at East Watch for a while. I think it is best you keep these experiments a secret." Jon looked up and noticed that the sun had almost reached its peak. "It seems we have a plan. Come on, all that talking has left me thirsty."

Gendry smiled and followed his friend. He was still a bit worried about the possible repercussions of their talk with Jaime Lannister but he was glad he had been able to distract Jon for now by making him excited about something else.