The scratching of the quill over the parchment was the only sound breaking the silence of my room, while the flickering candlelight danced in mimicry of the clashing thoughts in my head. I wasn't writing a letter; I was drawing a roadmap stained with blood and necessity. In the world of Game of Thrones, good intentions are the shortest path to the scaffold, and I did not intend to be another casualty in the tragic records of House Stark.
I set the quill aside and stared into the void. In the original story, Ned Stark believed that the truth was the ultimate weapon, but it proved to be the stone tied around his neck to drown him.
If King Robert learns the truth of Cersei's betrayal—that his children are bastards born of incest with Jaime—he won't settle for a divorce. A "Raging" Robert will burn Casterly Rock to the ground and plunge the realm into a devastating war against the Lannisters
Such a war at this time would bleed the Seven Kingdoms dry and exhaust their strength before the arrival of the True Winter. More dangerously, Ned Stark would be at the forefront of this war, and Robb Stark would lead the armies; their deaths would be almost certain.
Robert must not know the truth now. I must keep the "Secret of Lineage" as a dagger in my pocket, to be used for blackmail or leverage, not for total detonation. I must prevent Ned from reaching that damned book that reveals the hair color of House Baratheon—or at least make him hesitate before telling Robert.
I drew a black circle around the name Joffrey Baratheon. This is not a child; he is a monster fed on pain and arrogance.
The Plan: Joffrey is the detonator that will blow everything apart once Robert dies. In the story, he was the one who ordered Ned's execution, flouting all agreements. If Joffrey dies in an "accident" or of a "sudden illness" before Robert draws his last breath, the throne will pass to Tommen.
Tommen is a soft child, easily molded, and more importantly, his ascension would leave Cersei in a much weaker position. Joffrey must disappear from the political board. Poisoning is the safest option, but it requires access to Grand Maester Pycelle or Littlefinger. I must be careful; killing the Crown Prince is a dance on a razor's edge.
I moved to the name that disgusted me more than any other: Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger).
Ned Stark trusts Littlefinger because Catelyn trusts him. This is the gap through which the dagger will find Ned's back.
I cannot tell Ned "I know the future"; I'll sound mad. Instead, I will sow seeds of systematic doubt in his mind. I will repeatedly remind him of the story of Baelish and Brandon Stark (Ned's brother), emphasizing that a man who lost his love and pride because of the Starks will never be a loyal ally to them.
I will suggest that Ned hire our own "Sellswords" in the capital, loyal neither to Baelish's gold nor the City Watch (the Gold Cloaks). I must create a small military force in King's Landing that answers only to me and Ned, serving as our shield when Baelish attempts to manipulate loyalties.
Far across the sea, there is Daenerys Targaryen. At this moment, she has nothing but her name and her beauty.
Daenerys is the only solution to the Army of the Dead, and her dragons are the only power capable of melting the ice. However, her arrival as a conqueror would force Ned and the Northern army to fight her.
I must send a secret envoy to Essos. Not to assassinate her, as Robert desires, but to protect and guide her. If I can make her see the Starks as wronged allies rather than usurpers, we might unite the Dragon and the Wolf years ahead of schedule.
I will try to exploit Varys. Varys wants the stability of the realm, and I will give him a reason to believe he and I share the same goal. I will hint to him that I know of the "Little Dragon" in the East and offer him a deal: "We protect Ned in the South, and in return, we ensure Daenerys a path home that doesn't lead over our corpses."
I looked at my hands; they were accustomed to the sword's hilt, but now they held the fates of millions.
They are now preparing for tomorrow's march toward the North with Benjen Stark. Bran will remain safe, far from the fall and paralysis, and Jon will be his leader and protector, without the pressure of the Night's Watch vows at this stage. Their presence together in the North is the cornerstone of Winterfell's stability.
I will enter alongside Ned as a master-at-arms and bodyguard, but my true role will be an unofficial "Master of Intelligence."
I will try to win over Tyrion Lannister. He is the only one in his family who possesses both a mind and a heart. If I can convince him that his family's interest lies in curbing Cersei and Joffrey, we might gain an ally within the enemy's stronghold.
I burned the parchment and watched the smoke rise. Truth is expensive, lies are a necessity, and killing is sometimes a mercy.
"Forgive me, Ned," I whispered to myself. "I will have to do a lot of dirty work behind your back, just to keep your head on your shoulders."
Tomorrow, the procession departs. Tomorrow, the true struggle begins. In Winterfell, I left my heart; in King's Landing... I will leave my mark, or my grave.