Littlefinger's voice carried just the right amount of panic.
Robert narrowed his eyes.
The drunken irritation on his face grew clearer. "What does this have to do with you? Is the treasury empty again?"
"It is worse than that, Your Grace." Littlefinger bowed deeply, his forehead pressing against the floor. "I am guilty of concealing knowledge."
He raised his head and looked toward Eddard.
His eyes were filled with sorrow.
"I also deceived Lord Eddard, in order to stop him from discovering a terrible truth."
The next words he spoke immediately sent a wave of shock through the hall.
"Lord Jon Arryn was murdered by his own wife, Lady Lysa."
Robert shot to his feet.
"What did you say?" he roared. "Do you realize you are accusing the widow of a great lord?"
Littlefinger remained kneeling, his body trembling.
"Your Grace, I speak nothing but the truth. If you doubt me, ask Lord Eddard. He has been investigating this matter recently."
Robert turned sharply toward Ned.
"Ned... is this true?"
Eddard nodded heavily.
But at that moment, he could not see through Littlefinger's scheme.
"Seven gods above," Robert muttered. "A wife murdering her own husband."
Then he glared down at Littlefinger.
"Explain everything. Now."
Littlefinger began his story in a low voice.
"It all began with an old and unfortunate affection."
"I knew Lady Lysa when we were both very young. And she... she felt things for me that she should not have."
"It began back in Riverrun. But everyone knows that the woman I truly loved was—"
His gaze cautiously slid toward Eddard.
The court followed his eyes.
Eddard's face had already turned cold as iron.
Many people exchanged knowing looks. The story was old gossip throughout the Red Keep.
"After I lost my duel with Lord Eddard's brother, I never saw her again."
"Not until she recommended me to manage the taxes of Gulltown. And later when I came to court to serve as Master of Coin."
"I have always been grateful to Lady Lysa...But I never realized the obsession she had carried for so many years."
As Littlefinger spoke with dramatic detail, even Robert forgot his earlier irritation.
"And then?" the king demanded.
"What proof do you have that she killed Jon Arryn?"
"Because she told me herself!" Littlefinger suddenly cried, his voice sharp with emotion.
"After Lord Arryn died, she wrote to me. She said, 'He is finally dead. Now we can finally be together.'"
"When I read that letter, I was terrified. Those are not the words of a grieving widow."
Littlefinger lowered his eyes.
"But I had no proof. It was only the mad words of a letter."
"And I was only a man she had loved in her youth."
"What could I do?
Accuse a lady of murdering her husband to keep her child from being sent away as a ward?
Accuse a noblewoman of killing her husband out of unreturned love?"
"So I burned the letter."
"And I convinced myself that it was nothing more than the ramblings of a troubled woman."
"Then Lord Eddard questioned me. And because of my lingering feelings for Lysa... I deceived him."
When he finished speaking, Varys gently wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"Oh... what a tragic story."
But Eddard stared at Littlefinger with piercing eyes.
"What about the dagger?" he asked sharply. "Why did you say the dagger belonged to Tyrion?"
Littlefinger stiffened slightly.
"My lord, in that matter I did not lie to you. His Grace once won a Valyrian steel dagger from me. That is true."
"But later I acquired another one," he said quietly.
"I mentioned this during the tournament. Soon after, Lord Tyrion won it from me in a wager. That is also true."
Eddard stepped closer.
"So the dagger used against my son..."
"I do not know how it came into the assassin's hands," Littlefinger said, lifting his head and meeting Eddard's eyes, his eyes red with emotion.
"But I do know who possessed those two daggers."
"I could hardly accuse the king. So I said it belonged to the Imp."
Robert's face flushed. "You're not suggesting the assassin used my dagger to try to kill Bran?"
Littlefinger bowed his head again.
"Of course not. When I heard Your Grace mention during the tournament that your dagger had gone missing, I was just as shocked."
The room fell silent.
Eddard turned toward Robert.
"Your Grace, the dagger is still in my chambers. If you have the time, perhaps you could examine it yourself."
Robert nodded.
"Yes... yes."
Though he likely did not remember what the dagger looked like at all.
At that moment Tywin's cold voice came from the observer's seats. "So you allowed Lady Catelyn to believe my son hired the assassin?"
Littlefinger turned and bowed again.
"My lord Tywin, this matter has nothing to do with me."
"I simply told Lady Catelyn the truth—that the dagger once belonged to Tyrion. Beyond that, I did not—"
"Who do you think you are?" Tywin cut him off sharply. "I did not ask for your defense."
"The only fact that matters is that because of your foolish words..."
"My son was framed, kidnapped, and is now imprisoned in the castle of a madwoman."
Eddard glared at Tywin.
"She is still the widow of the former Hand of the King."
"And your wife's own sister," Tywin replied coldly.
Then he turned and strode out of the chamber.
Robert scratched his beard.
He looked at Littlefinger kneeling on the floor, then at the doorway where Tywin had disappeared, and finally at Eddard's grim face.
"Seven hells," he muttered. "What a mess."
"All I did was hold a tournament."
Robert waved his hand as if swatting away a fly.
"Take him away. Put him in a room somewhere. He doesn't leave without my order."
"And suspend his duties as Master of Coin for now."
Littlefinger slowly rose and bowed.
He stepped toward the door but suddenly paused.
"Your Grace," he said, turning back slowly. "The matter of the assassin is still unresolved."
"Who sent the man to kill the Stark boy? And why would someone go so far as to murder a crippled child?"
"And how did they manage to use my mistake to set two great houses against each other?"
"I beg Your Grace to investigate the truth."
With that, he allowed the gold cloaks to escort him away.
Varys chuckled softly.
"Our Master of Coin truly cares for the realm. Even as he leaves office, he still worries about the kingdom."
"Your Grace!" Eddard said urgently. "You are just letting him go?"
Robert waved his hand.
"Stop shouting. That was only his story. Nothing has been proven yet."
"Besides... it's not that serious. He lied, that's all. Everyone knows he likes to lie."
Eddard shouted in disbelief.
"He lied, that's all?"
"Stark," Robert snapped. "Do not forget your place."
"What right do you have to give orders here?"
Then the king reached into his pocket and tossed a silver badge across the table.
The badge of the Hand of the King.
Eddard stared at it.
Then he slowly picked it up and pinned it to his chest once more.
Robert laughed.
Then he turned to Pycelle.
"Send a raven to the Eyrie."
"Tell that woman to come to King's Landing immediately so we can settle this mess once and for all."
Meanwhile.
At the Tower of the Hand.
Joffrey lay lazily in the warm sunlight, listening with mild boredom as two men with foreign accents argued nearby about who should teach Arya.
"Syrio is the girl's teacher. Strange man should go away."
"The little cat is learning a dance. Very interesting. But a cat must know not only how to move, but why to move. Someone can teach her."
Joffrey scratched his ear lazily.
Just another peaceful day.
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