The godswood of the Red Keep was much smaller than the one at Winterfell.
Eddard stood beneath the heart tree and looked up at the faint patches of light filtering through the branches above.
This tree was nothing like the weirwoods of the North. It was merely a dark oak, and its trunk bore no carved face.
Yet the rustling leaves still seemed to whisper in the wind.
Just like the countless afternoons in Winterfell when he had sat alone beneath the heart tree.
"What a fine wind."
Eddard lowered his gaze and looked toward the courtyard nearby.
Joffrey was standing beside a small copper pot, carefully heating spiced wine.
The rich scent of cinnamon and cardamom mixed with the sweetness of raisins, drifting gently through the breeze.
"My lord, please," Joffrey said, lifting the pot and pouring the deep red wine into two silver cups.
Eddard accepted the cup and looked at the fruit resting at the bottom.
Joffrey had invited him here to drink plum wine.
But it was only the beginning of the year 298 after Aegon's Conquest.
The plum trees had just begun to bloom. Not a single green plum could be found in all of King's Landing.
So the prince had used dried green plums from the previous year instead.
"You did not invite me here only to watch the comet and drink wine, Your Highness."
Joffrey smiled faintly and raised his cup.
"Lord Eddard, you have done quite a remarkable thing recently."
Eddard did not respond.
Instead, he tilted his head back and drained the wine in a single swallow.
The sourness of the dried plum mixed with the heat of the spices, burning down his throat.
The taste reminded him of yesterday's council meeting.
Bitter.
Sharp.
A hatred that should have ended more than ten years ago.
Aerys was dead. Rhaegar was dead. Elia and her children were dead. Yet Robert had never let it go.
Eddard could still hear his furious shouting.
'Go back to your Winterfell!'
And then—
Tywin Lannister.
'Your wife has seized my son!'
In that moment, Eddard had finally understood. He hated Catelyn for acting so rashly.
But he hated himself even more.
He should have kept her in King's Landing longer. He should have uncovered the truth before she left.
He should have seen it coming.
The dagger. The secret letter from the Eyrie. The rumors in King's Landing. Littlefinger's careless words during the tournament.
Each piece should have formed a complete chain long ago... He had simply refused to believe it.
He had not wanted to believe Lysa would betray her own husband.
He had not wanted to believe Littlefinger would weave such a cruel web.
He had not wanted to believe the storm was already unavoidable.
And now, beneath this heart tree that did not belong to the North, he faced a prince barely past his twelfth name day.
The boy's father was a Baratheon.
His mother was a Lannister.
He worried deeply about the war that might soon ignite. Yet Eddard himself only wanted to escape.
To flee back to Winterfell and indulge his own desires. And prepare for the war that might come.
Joffrey filled his cup again.
"The old gods watch in the godswood," he said quietly. "No one likes to lie before a heart tree."
Eddard glanced once more at the oak.
It stood silently, without face or eyes. Yet he still felt as if something unseen were watching.
This was the only place in the Red Keep where he felt a hint of peace.
"What is it you truly wish to say, Your Highness?"
Joffrey lowered his eyes.
For a brief moment, Eddard almost thought he imagined it. But on that prematurely mature face appeared a trace of deep exhaustion.
"You have been here only a short time, yet already you cannot bear to remain," Joffrey said softly.
"Since you are leaving, you might as well tell me something."
"Among the nobles of this court... who should I truly fear? Who are the traitors destroying the realm?"
Eddard's fingers tightened slightly around the silver cup.
"How could I dare speak ill of the king's servants?"
"What is spoken from your mouth will remain only in my ears," Joffrey said, grabbing his sleeve lightly. "Even that eunuch's little birds cannot hear a word here."
"You have seen the tension between my father's house and my mother's. And there are those who whisper between them with ill intent."
He sighed heavily.
It was too heavy a sigh to come from a child.
Eddard looked at him.
At the young face trying so hard to remain composed... At the eyes already burdened with responsibilities far too great.
He thought of his own son.
Of Robb standing at Winterfell, trying not to cry when they parted.
Eddard reached out and gently touched Joffrey's cheek.
This boy was younger than Robb.
Yet Robb had brothers beside him. Maester Luwin to guide him. The walls of Winterfell to shield him from the outside world.
But Joffrey lived in the Red Keep. Surrounded by wolves and snakes.
Eddard withdrew his hand and remained silent for a long moment.
"The Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish."
"He lies constantly. He treats the royal treasury as his personal property, enriches himself through his office, and sells positions openly."
"He is a dangerous man."
Joffrey shook his head.
"Littlefinger?"
"He merely uses clever methods to patch the kingdom's financial holes with the king's permission."
"At worst, he is a clever parasite."
Eddard pressed his lips together. "The Master of Whisperers, Varys. He claims loyalty to the realm and works tirelessly for peace."
"But he speaks too much and does too little. No one knows what he truly wants."
"He is a traitor."
"The Spider..." Joffrey said slowly. "Yes, he filters the information he reports and keeps his little birds everywhere."
"But in the end he only seeks a place to survive. He is a mystery. But not a traitor."
Eddard lowered his head and thought carefully.
Then he began naming others.
Pycelle.
Janos Slynt.
Even Renly and Stannis for their negligence.
But every name was dismissed easily by Joffrey. Sometimes with a hint of disappointment.
At last, Eddard understood.
He took a deep breath and spoke the name he had been avoiding.
"Tywin Lannister."
"He is ambitious, greedy, and ruthless. He pursues his goals without honor."
"He holds no official office, yet repeatedly challenges royal authority and fills King's Landing with his own allies."
"...He seeks control of the crown itself."
Eddard met Joffrey's green eyes.
Eyes that looked exactly like a Lannister's.
"Your Highness, he is your grandfather. But you must guard against him."
For a moment, Joffrey froze.
Eddard saw the real emotion in his eyes.
Like someone who had waited a long time for someone else to finally speak the truth.
Joffrey lowered his head.
"Lord Tywin," he said quietly, "is indeed a cold and ruthless man."
"But his power rests on the interests of the crown and the debts between them. My father acknowledges his strength and uses it to stabilize his rule."
He smiled bitterly.
"Compared to the others, Tywin is more dangerous. But the crown and House Lannister depend on each other."
"They see each other as necessary allies."
Eddard was about to speak.
But Joffrey suddenly leaned forward across the stone table.
His elbows rested on the surface as he drew closer. His green eyes gleamed brightly in the dim light.
"You have named many men," Joffrey said softly. "...But you missed the one who matters most."
Fear stirred suddenly in Eddard's heart.
"Who?"
Joffrey's voice was calm.
"The greatest traitor in Westeros."
"The man who brings the most harm to the realm. The one who does whatever he pleases."
"The king upon the Iron Throne..."
"My father..."
"Robert Baratheon!"
A flash of white lightning split the clouds, turning the entire courtyard pale as bone.
A thunderclap exploded across the sky.
__________
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