9. Baelor

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KING'S LANDING

Ned was still sitting in the dungeons, breathing heavily.

Varys walked closer, holding a torch. "You've seen better days, my lord."

"Another visit?" Ned asked. "It seems your my last friend."

"No, no," Varys said, handing him some water. "Many still love you. Sansa came to court this morning to plead for your life."

Ned had a drink. "On her knees begging for me. Hm. Did you laugh with the others?"

"You do me wrong, my lord," Varys told him. "Your blood is the last thing I want."

"I don't know what you want," Ned said. "I've given up trying to guess."

Ned had another drink.

"When I was still a boy - before they cut my balls off with a hot knife - I travelled with a group of actors through the Free Cities," Varys expressed. "They taught me that each man has a role to play. The same is true at court. I am the master of whisperers. My role is to be sly, obsequious and without scruples. I'm a good actor, my lord."

Ned looked at him. "Huh. Can you free me from this pit?"

"I could," Varys said, nodding. "But will I? No." Ned chuckled. "As I said, I'm no hero."

"What do you want?" Ned demanded. "Tell me. No riddles, no stories . . . tell me, what do you want?"

Varys lowered into a crouch. "Peace. Did you know that your son is marching south with an army of Northmen? Loyal lad. Fighting for his father's freedom."

Ned was shocked. "Robb? He's just a boy."

"Boys have been conquerors before," Varys said. "But the man giving Cersei sleepless nights is the king's . . ." He corrected himself. "The late king's brother. Lord Stannis has the best claim to the throne. He is a proven battle commander and he is utterly without mercy."

"Stannis Baratheon is Robert's true heir," Ned replied. "The throne is his by rights."

Varys stood, tutting. "Sansa pleaded so sweetly for your life. It would be a shame to throw it away. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is more use to her than a dead one."

"You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, who butchered my men, who crippled my son?" Ned asked, outraged.

"I want you to serve the realm!" Varys shouted. "Tell the queen you will confess your vile treason, tell your son to lay down his sword and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir. Cersei knows you as a man of honour." He crouched again. "If you give her the peace she needs and promise to carry her secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out your days on the Wall with your brother and your bastard son."

Ned chuckled, humourlessly. "You think my life is some precious thing to me? That I would trade my honour for a few more years of--of what? You grew up with actors. You learned their craft and you learnt it well. But I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago."

Varys was disappointed. "Pity. Such a pity." He stood. "What of your daughter's life, my lord? Is that a precious thing to you?"

Ned looked at Varys, watching him walk away before leaning his head back against the wall.


>*~*<


THE TWINS

A raven cawed as it flew from the holdfast of House Frey.

Theon shot the raven down with an arrow and grabbed the scroll strapped to its leg, handing it to Robb.

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