King's Landing, The Red Keep, Third Level of the Dungeons
Cough... hack...
Eddard Stark shifted his weight against the damp stone wall, a fit of ragged coughing tearing through his chest. During the chaos of his arrest, the gold cloaks hadn't been gentle; his body was a map of dull aches and sharp stabs of pain. Every movement felt like a personal insult to his aging bones.
Step... step...
"Who's there?!"
Though battered, the instincts of a veteran commander remained etched into his marrow. Ned's eyes snapped toward the darkness of the corridor, sensing a presence long before it manifested.
"Heh... it seems Lord Eddard's senses remain as sharp as Ice itself, even in chains. It is no wonder they say you bested the Sword of the Morning."
"Varys?" Ned rasped, squinting as a plump figure in powdered robes stepped into the flickering torchlight. "Impossible. The secret passages of the Red Keep were supposed to have been cleared. How did you get in here?"
"Lord Eddard," Varys replied, his voice a soft, perfumed lisp. "While I do not know how you 'discovered' those tunnels, the Red Keep is a place of infinite secrets. And secrets, as you know, can always be... manufactured."
Varys stood there, hands tucked into his opposite sleeves, looking every bit the soft, effeminate courtier. Yet Ned, looking at the man's large frame, couldn't help but remember Jon's warnings. This eunuch was far more than he appeared.
"Why are you here? To gloat?" Ned's voice was thick with self-deprecation. "I thought that by discarding my honor, I could fix this mess. Instead, I've managed to lose everything."
"I have watched your service to the Seven Kingdoms, my lord," Varys said, his tone uncharacteristically somber. "You and Lord Jon Arryn... you were both sincere men. A rare breed in this den of vipers."
The mention of the Starks' fallen guards made Ned's heart sink further into the gloom of the Black Cells. "And Renly? What of him?"
"Lord Renly is not a man to wait for the axe to fall. He fled the city the moment the winds changed. It seems the Captain of the King's Gate was his man; he was met by a host of Stormlands knights and sellswords."
A flicker of hope ignited in Ned's chest. The Stormlands were close to the capital. If Renly allied with the Reach against the Lannisters, there might still be a chance for his daughters—and for his life.
"I must admit, Lord Eddard, I am impressed," Varys continued, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You placed so many pieces on the board in King's Landing. If it weren't for those mercenaries betraying you, your family would have escaped. Petyr Baelish's sigil shouldn't be a mockingbird; it should be a bloodhound. I never imagined he would obsess over your every footstep so thoroughly."
"He wanted a war," Ned muttered, a flash of resentment crossing his face. "My death and the ruin of my House are the foundation of his master plan. Jon warned me... and still, I let Littlefinger convince me he was a tool I could use."
"And my children? Where are they?"
Ned had tried to secure a "gentleman's agreement" with Jaime Lannister, but after Robert's "accident," all bets were off. He had been struck down while trying to visit the dying King and dragged here by Ser Meryn Trant on charges of high treason. He had sacrificed his pride to acknowledge Robert's bastards as heirs for the sake of peace, but the Lannisters clearly had no intention of playing fair.
"Your younger son and daughter were moved before the purge," Varys said, watching Ned closely for a reaction. "Clearly, another power is at play. However, Lady Sansa was not so lucky. She was intercepted by the Queen's men while being escorted from the sept."
Ned's expression remained a mask of weary confusion, much to Varys's disappointment. The Spider loathed variables he couldn't control. He had spent years weaving his own web, yet these missing Stark children represented a thread he hadn't spun.
"Enough talk," Ned said. "You didn't come here to offer condolences. What do you want? What is the price for my freedom?"
Ned finally accepted Jon's "Everyone is a Villain" theory. If Varys was here, he wanted something. Ned was tired of riddles; he wanted out before Joffrey's madness turned his imprisonment into an execution.
"I can suggest to Queen Cersei that you be allowed to take the Black," Varys offered. "The Lannisters are not so foolish as to risk a total war with the North by taking your head. I—"
"It won't work," Ned interrupted. "Petyr Baelish will ensure I never leave this city alive. He needs a war between Stark and Lannister. He won't let a peaceful exile ruin his chaos."
Varys's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected Ned to grasp Littlefinger's motivations so clearly.
"Then what is your counter-proposal?" Varys asked.
Ned didn't answer immediately. He truly regretted ignoring Jon's advice to strike first. Now, he had to play the Spider's game or die.
"Varys," Ned said, looking the eunuch in the eye. "What is your true goal? Littlefinger wants power. But you? Don't tell me it's 'for the realm.' If you cared for your people, you would be helping them in your own homeland. You are serving someone. Who?"
"My... Lord?" Varys looked genuinely taken aback.
"Do you remember Prince Rhaegar's children, Lord Eddard?"
Ned's heart skipped a beat. For a terrifying second, he feared Jon's secret—the true parentage of the boy he called his bastard—had been discovered.
But Varys continued, unaware of the storm in Ned's mind. "I have always been a loyalist to House Targaryen. When the Lannisters sacked this city, the son of Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar did not die. The babe Ser Gregor Clegane dashed against the wall was a tanner's son, swapped in the dark."
"What?!" Ned exhaled, his mind reeling. Having heard Jon's "story" of the future, he knew the holes in this claim, but he remained silent. He was learning to be a different kind of man—one who didn't reveal his hand too early.
"Lord Eddard," Varys said, his voice rising with uncharacteristic excitement. "Prince Aegon Targaryen has reached manhood in Essos. He possesses the nobility and wisdom of the greatest dragon kings. With your support, he can reclaim his throne. You would not just be a Lord; you would be a Kingmaker, remembered for all time."