Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

I know I don't have to indulge this information. I could keep it buried deep within me, using it as leverage when the time comes. That would be the smart move.

But right now? I don't care.

Everything I had planned has already fallen apart. Ned Stark is alive. He now knows Littlefinger betrayed him. That alone will change everything. There is no going back. No way to reset the game to the way it was meant to be played. The pieces are already moving, and if that's the case—I might as well tip the board over.

So, let's keep unraveling the lies. Let's tear open Ned Stark's world until he sees the realm for what it truly is.

The Carriage Ride & The Weight of Truth

The rhythmic rocking of the carriage had become a quiet metronome to our journey. It had been over a week since we left King's Landing, and not once had we encountered pursuers. That didn't mean I wasn't expecting them. The Lannisters were ruthless, but their pride would make them slow.

Inside the carriage, Arya was wide awake, filled with restless energy, her mind already racing toward the battles she wanted to fight. Ned, ever the brooding warrior, was lost in thoughts that had no place in the world we lived in. And then there was Sansa.

Her gaze lingered on me often, filled with something unspoken. Something deeper than just gratitude. Something I had never truly had in my life.

I refused to let myself dwell on it.

Instead, I turned back to Ned. I wasn't done breaking his world yet.

"There's more you need to know, Lord Stark."

His eyes met mine, cold but listening. Good. That meant he was already doubting everything he once believed.

"Jon Arryn," I said. "He wasn't sick. He was poisoned."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, stretching into the silence of the carriage. I saw Ned's grip tighten.

"Poisoned?" he repeated, his voice low.

I nodded. "A rare poison called Tears of Lys. Tasteless. Almost impossible to detect. It mimics sickness, making the victim weaker day by day, until their body fails them."

Ned looked away, staring into the distance as though trying to piece something together. His honor, his trust in those around him, was crumbling before my eyes.

"Who?" he finally asked.

I leaned forward slightly. "Who had the most to gain from Jon Arryn's death? Who kept feeding you information while steering you in the direction they wanted?"

His breathing grew heavier. He knew the answer.

"Littlefinger," he whispered.

"And," I continued, "who was closest to Jon Arryn in the final days of his life? Who cared for him, watched over him, and had every opportunity to poison his food or wine?"

His brow furrowed. "Lysa…?"

"She's been in love with Littlefinger since they were children," I said plainly. "And she's his greatest puppet. He didn't even have to do the dirty work himself. She did it for him."

For the first time, I saw true anger in Ned Stark's eyes. The realization that the war, the chaos, his own suffering—none of it had started because of the Lannisters.

It had started because of Littlefinger.

Meanwhile, in Westeros…

Dragonstone – Stannis Prepares for War

The news of Eddard Stark's survival had reached Dragonstone. Stannis Baratheon stood before the Painted Table, staring down at the shape of Westeros with cold, calculating eyes.

"The gods are giving me another chance," he murmured. "Ned Stark was meant to die, but he did not. That means he still has a role to play in setting things right."

Davos Seaworth shifted beside him. "If he reaches his family, do you believe he will side with you?"

Stannis didn't hesitate. "Of course. Ned Stark is no fool. He knows the truth—Joffrey is a bastard born of incest. That alone will drive him to me."

"And if he doesn't come willingly?" Davos asked carefully.

Stannis' expression darkened. "Then we remind him where his duty lies."

King's Landing – The Lannisters Struggle

Cersei and Joffrey had spent the last week searching for clues, hunting down anyone who might have had a hand in the Starks' escape. But they found nothing.

"Gone without a trace," Cersei seethed, pacing in the throne room. "Someone helped him. Someone inside the Red Keep."

"Kill them all," Joffrey sneered. "Anyone who might have helped him—flay them alive!"

Tyrion Lannister, newly arrived in King's Landing, sighed loudly. "Yes, that's exactly what we need—more mindless slaughter. That will surely endear the people to us."

Cersei glared at him. "You have a better idea?"

Tyrion smirked. "Yes. We stop running around like headless chickens and start preparing for the war that is coming. Because, dear sister, make no mistake—it is coming."

Harrenhal – Tywin Lannister Rethinks the War

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of a war table, his fingers drumming against the wood. His forces had crushed several rebel strongholds in the Riverlands, but now, things had changed.

Ned Stark was alive.

Jaime Lannister was still a prisoner.

His war was not going as planned.

"We need to act now," Kevan Lannister urged. "Before the Starks rally behind him."

Tywin closed his eyes. He needed something decisive. A way to break the North before it truly became a threat.

And then it came to him.

"Send word to Walder Frey," Tywin said. "It's time we discuss terms."