The day after the tournant ended, Lynd prepared to leave King’s Landing and return to Sumrhall the way he ca.
Almost at the sa ti, a rchant ship from White Harbor docked at the city's harbor. A hooded woman in disguise, accompanied by a short, stocky, white-haired old man carrying a longsword, disembarked from the ship.
“My lady, what’s our next move?” the old man asked. Perhaps from the voyage, he looked unsteady on his feet, his face pale as though he were ill.
The woman, glancing at a squad of Gold Cloaks patrolling the dock, instinctively pulled her hood lower to hide her face and said, “We’re not going to the castle. There are Lannister dogs everywhere. If we head for the Red Keep now, we’ll be discovered. Let’s go to the inn the captain ntioned.”
Having made their decision, the two entered King’s Landing through the River Gate and found lodging in an inn in Eel Alley on Visenya’s Hill.
But while the old man went out to gather information, the woman was picked up by Gold Cloaks and taken to a brothel on Silk Street.
“Catelyn, it’s been a long ti,” said Petyr as he saw her enter. He quickly waved away the attending prostitutes and stood up to greet her.
But before he could reach her, the woman slapped him hard across the face. Then she pulled back her hood, revealing herself as Catelyn Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
Still shaken from the journey, Catelyn was furious.
“Petyr, have you lost your mind? You brought to this place? You had so sense of decency as a child. And now? What am I, your handmaid? Summoned and ordered around like this?”
Petyr rubbed his cheek, but showed no sign of anger. He calmly gestured for the startled prostitutes to leave, then closed the door behind them.
“Catelyn, you know . I would never insult you. And you should know that King’s Landing is anything but safe. There are spies everywhere. You were already being watched the mont you stepped off that ship. If my n hadn’t brought you here, your inn would be surrounded by now, and you wouldn’t be able to get a single word out.”
Catelyn’s expression softened slightly, but she still asked, “How did you know I was coming to King’s Landing?”
“Varys told . He got wind of it as soon as you boarded in White Harbor. When you disembarked, his little birds spotted you imdiately and inford .”
Petyr gave a faint smile. “I don’t like him, but I’ll admit this much—he’s an excellent Master of Whisperers. His spiderweb stretches over all the Seven Kingdoms. His eyes and ears are everywhere. He hears things faster than anyone else. Frankly, he’s probably on his way here as we speak.”
Catelyn frowned. “Why would he co to you? Are you two working together?”
“Maybe,” Petyr said, holding her gaze. “Or maybe it’s because of the connection between us.”
Catelyn sensed the heat in Petyr’s eyes and quickly looked away, deliberately changing the subject. “Does he know why I ca to King’s Landing?”
“He might. Or he might be just as clueless as I am,” Petyr replied. “But I’ll admit I’m curious. Why now? Your husband is up to his neck dealing with the ss left behind by the last Hand. He’s made plenty of enemies, and there are many waiting to see him fall. By coming here, you’re practically handing them the blade.”
“I miss my husband. I miss my daughters. Is it wrong to want to see them?” Catelyn said through clenched teeth.
“That’s not a convincing excuse, Catelyn. Your second son is bedridden, your eldest still too young to rule. You left Winterfell—the place where you’re most needed—to travel south. Not even a fool would believe that reason.”
Just as Catelyn opened her mouth to defend herself, a knock ca at the door.
“Lord Petyr, may I co in?” ca Varys’s voice from outside.
“Of course,” Petyr said, moving to open the door. He gestured graciously. “Please, Lord Varys. Co in.”
Varys entered slowly, hands folded inside his sleeves. Upon seeing Catelyn, he approached and bowed politely.
“Lady Catelyn, an honor.”
“Lord Varys,” she returned the gesture politely, despite her dislike for him.
“‘Lord’—how formal. Most just call ‘Eunuch’ or ‘Spider,’” Varys said with a smile. His eyes dropped briefly to her injured hand. “That wound doesn’t look light. Shall I tend to it? I’ve just acquired a balm from Sumrhall. Quite effective, I’m told.”
Catelyn pulled her hand back into her sleeve. “That won’t be necessary. Maester Luwin already saw to it before I left.”
“As you wish.” Varys nodded, then added with a pleasant tone, “My lady, may I see the dagger?”
Catelyn’s expression instantly shifted. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How do you know about that...?”
“The Master-at-Arms you brought from Winterfell may be cautious, but clearly not cautious enough,” Varys said. “Perhaps he forgot this isn’t quiet, sparsely populated Winterfell—it’s bustling King’s Landing. He went to the armory and spoke to Ser Aron Santagar. During their conversation, they ntioned a dagger. Then the two of them returned to your inn, where they’re likely still waiting for you now. Oh—and the innkeeper told them you’d gone out alone to gather information. They didn’t question it at all. Northerners—so trusting.”
Catelyn’s face darkened. She looked to Petyr, as if seeking his thoughts.
Petyr studied Varys a mont before replying. “I don’t trust him. He’s too clever, too secretive. You never know what he’s really after. But one thing I do know—Varys doesn’t take sides in court politics. He always stands behind the Iron Throne, not beside anyone seated on it.”
Catelyn considered this, then finally reached into her cloak and pulled out the dagger. She placed it on the table beside Varys.
“Take it. I hope your little birds can tell who it belongs to.”
Varys picked it up carefully, examining it closely.
“Dragonbone hilt, Valyrian steel blade—this looks like Qohor craftsmanship. There aren’t many who could afford such a luxury. Finding the owner might take so ti.”
“No need,” Petyr interrupted, taking the dagger from Varys and expertly spinning it in his hand. His fingers moved with casual precision, the blade twirling through the air in dangerous flourishes—but he never so much as nicked himself.
“I already know whose it is.”
“This dagger is one of a kind in all of King’s Landing—no, in all of Westeros,” said Littlefinger as he deftly flicked the blade from his hand. The dagger spun through the air and cleanly sliced through the rope of the bell above the doorman before embedding itself in the doorfra. “It’s mine. This dagger belongs to .”
“Yours?” Catelyn stared at him in disbelief.
“Yes. Or rather, it was mine,” Littlefinger nodded. “But I lost it during a wager at the last tourney, on Prince Joffrey’s na day.”
Catelyn leaned forward, anxious. “You lost it to whom?”
“Tyrion Lannister. The Imp.”
At that, Catelyn fell into silence, then muttered to herself, “Lannister… it really was them. Of course. Of course!”
“Lord Petyr, Lady Catelyn,” Varys spoke up, rising from his seat, “I believe my presence is no longer needed. I’ll take my leave.”
Before Catelyn could respond, he added with a pleasant smile, “Please rest assured, I won’t speak a word of what happened here. And I’d appreciate it if neither of you ntioned my presence either. Let’s pretend I was never here, shall we, my dear lady?”
“Of course, Lord Varys,” Catelyn said, having no real choice but to agree.
“Lord Varys, I have one more favor to ask.” Littlefinger called out just as Varys was turning to leave. “Catelyn shouldn’t move around anymore. That Master-at-Arms is likely being watched already, and I can’t leave either. So I need you to go to the Red Keep and notify the Hand. If you could escort him here personally without drawing attention, all the better.”
Varys looked troubled. “Lord Petyr, you know how difficult that is for . I don’t get involved in—”
“I’ll honor that favor you asked for,” Petyr said quietly.
A smile crept onto Varys’s face. “Very well. I’ll bring Lord Eddard.”
...
After leaving the brothel, Varys returned to the Red Keep—but not to the Tower of the Hand. Instead, he went to his own chambers, changed into the guise of the dungeon guard Rugen, and descended into the cells. There, he approached a particular cell.
“Catelyn has arrived,” Varys said to the man inside, “and the blade now points to the Imp.”
The prisoner stepped into the firelight. If Lynd had been present, he would have recognized him imdiately—it was Jaqna.
“Good,” Jaqna said calmly. “Soone will just sit back and enjoy the show.”
Varys frowned slightly. “Isn’t this a bit too simple? Pinning a murder on soone with a single dagger… it’s riddled with holes. I’m afraid—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jaqna interrupted. “Don’t worry about inconsistencies. Whether others believe it or not is irrelevant. All that matters is that she believes the Imp is to bla. The signs I left in Winterfell have already convinced the Lady that House Lannister is behind her son’s injury. This dagger only strengthens her conviction. And once the opportunity cos, she will act—out of motherly love. Even if it ans destroying her own house.”
Varys felt a chill pass through him at Jaqna’s words. After a pause, he said, “Littlefinger still doesn’t know about us. He’s agreed to get a place in the Citadel. Are you going there now?”
“No, not yet,” Jaqna said, walking back into the shadows of the cell. “Soone wants to see how this all plays out first.”
Varys’s expression turned grave, but he quickly composed himself, turned, and left the cell. He returned to his chambers, changed back into his usual clothing, and made his way toward the Tower of the Hand.
...
At the Hand’s study, Varys knocked. When he heard Eddard’s voice, he entered and saw Lord Stark working at his desk.
“Lord Eddard, please co with ,” Varys said without delay. “There’s sothing urgent you need to see.”
Eddard glanced at him, hesitated briefly, then rose to follow.
Jory Cassel stepped forward, ready to accompany them, but Varys stopped him with a gesture. Eddard gave a nod, and Jory backed down.
Varys led Eddard through the Red Keep’s corridors, weaving through passageways and avoiding guards. They slipped out through a side door near the stables, exited the castle, and took a quiet alley toward Silk Street—until they reached the brothel.
“You finally brought him!” Littlefinger called out as they arrived. “I’ve been waiting so long out here, soone might mistake for one of the working girls.” He turned to Eddard. “Lord Eddard, this way. Your lady is waiting for you inside.”
“Damn you, Petyr! Are you mocking ?” Eddard growled. He looked up at the brothel, feeling insulted, then seized Littlefinger by the collar and slamd him against the wall.
“Easy! Easy!” Varys stepped in. “Lord Eddard, Lord Petyr is telling the truth. Your wife really is—”
“Ned! Ned!” Catelyn’s voice called from above. She leaned out a second-floor window, waving down to her husband.
Eddard froze. Staring up at his wife in a brothel window left him speechless. Only when Littlefinger gave him a nudge did he snap out of it.
He let go of Petyr without a word of apology and rushed inside.
“Hmph. Northn,” Littlefinger scoffed, dusting himself off with a look of disdain.
“Don’t forget your promise, Lord Petyr,” Varys said as he brushed off Petyr’s back.
“Of course,” Petyr replied with a smile. “Even if I forget everyone else’s promises, I would never dare forget yours, Lord Varys.”
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