The Preparations began almost immediately following Joffrey's ascent.
Preparations, I say.
I can almost feel the capitalization, so forefront it all is in my mind.
First to Varys I went, speaking quietly as to the matter. The damnable eunuch only smiled and nodded, and a part of me wondered if he had been privy to my words with Cersei and
Joffrey. Certainly he more than any other could damn me to the Starks upon a triumphant return, whisper words of poison into Robb Stark's ear that could damn not only me but the Starks themselves.
The Spider only ever served his own goals, after all.
He would need to be dealt with, upon escape. A word or two whispered to Black Walder perhaps, and attention closely kept on Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole with the help of the Mallisters.
It wouldn't do to walk into an ambush after all, nor see Sansa Stark carried off by Varys for whatever ill aims he might have in mind.
There was his mummer's dragon lying in wait, after all.
--
"So we keep an eye on the Spider," said Black Walder aloud as he mulled my words "And gut him if need be. Is that all?"
"Have a care Walder," I whispered softly "Consider our surroundings enemy ground, until the very moment we depart the walls of the capital. And even then..."
"Aye, aye," he said as he waved me off "I don't fancy death by hanging from a Stark noose any more than you do, Bolton. I'll keep my dagger honed to a killing edge, if it'll settle your worries."
"Keep it honed for killing deeds," I said with a low growl "We'll be fighting at least a little before we leave."
"I sense a Bolton plot forming. Tell me, does this one involve as many whores as the last?"
"None at all, I'm afraid. We'll need to recover some Stark relics before we leave."
"Relics?"
"Ned Stark's bones, what's left of his skull and that Valyrian sword of theirs. The skull will be somewhat difficult to spot in the spiked trenches of Maegor's Holdfast, but the bones are being kept at Baelor's Sept and the Valyrian Sword is in the vaults of the Red Keep."
"... Are you bloody mad, Bolton? You think we can just walk up to His Grace and so politely as you please ask for a Valyrian sword?"
"Of course not," I said with a long suffering sigh "Considering how much he needed convincing of our departure... look, the bones will be easy to recover given my recent efforts on behalf of the Poor Fellows. It might take leaning on the royal authority a little, but I doubt they'll tattle on us before we leave. The skull you'll have to be careful purloining, and we'll need to boil off whatever rotting flesh there yet might be-"
"Boil off the flesh?"
"It's like making a stew, Walder. But worry not, yo'll find it a lot less horrifying than it sounds."
Lies. All the Lies.
"A stew?!?"
"Well not quite, but it was the closest analogy I could think of."
"Bolton, hear me out-"
"No," I said, lacing the singular word with as much coldness as I could "I won't be hearing you out. This decision is simple, however bereft of the king's consent it might be. I'll badger the priests for the bones, and meanwhile you'll see to picking and boiling the right skull and then we'll both see to the damn sword. Should this all go off without a hitch and we get out of this damnable city that's ready to die by starvation or storming, and then if we make it to Robb Stark alive and then if we manage to convince him of our surety, then and only then may you complain that you had to boil a dead man's skull. Then and only then, Walder Frey."
"You're mad," muttered the Frey knight dully "Raving mad."
At that I stopped, a look of incredulity plain as day on my face.
"And you've only just cottoned on?"
To that at least, he had no retort.
--
"My Lord Bolton, your presence here honours us..." said the quivering squat man in greeting "But I must confess that I am at a loss as to what your presence here entails or implies."
Long winded fool. If he wasn't who he was...
"Your High Holiness," I said with a low bow to kiss his fat, ring covered hand "I am here on a matter of great significance to the royal family and His Grace the King."
"Oh?" said the High Septon hesitantly for a moment "I do not doubt you my lord, but the Queen-"
"Has sent me in her place. As this damnable siege continues, the Queen Regent has grown more ... inaccessible of late."
"I... I see. And how might we serve Her Grace?"
"In ways that only the Faith can. If I might be so bold to inquire, but how fare's the Faith Militant?"
"Good, good..." said the fat priest dismissively "That is to say, their efforts to safeguard the capital have not gone unremarked. Ser Jacelyn Bywater's move from the City Watch was unexpected of course, but he has proven a fine Knight Commander thus far for the Poor Fellows."
"I am glad to hear of it," I said with a small smile "Ser Jacelyn is well appreciated in the royal council."
A lie, but a polite one at least. I very much doubted anyone besides myself gave much thought to the affairs of the Poor Fellows beyond their peace-keeping.
That, and keeping them as far removed from the High Septon's doddering influence as possible.
"You are kind to say so, my lord. But I should imagine that you are not here to discuss House Bywater's prodigal son...?"
"It's a tempting topic, but no I am not. Rather, I have been sent with orders to recover the remains of Lord Eddard Stark, formerly Hand of the King and Warden of the North."
To that the fat priest said nothing, his face frozen in an inscrutable squint.
"My lord Bolton, this request is most unusual..."
"But necessary. With the city under siege and Lannister reinforcements far from our walls, the Queen Mother is exploring her options as to a negotiated cease-fire or truce with Robb Stark. We have his sisters of course, but being able to return his father's remains or their family sword are equally important tools that she wishes to have available at a moment's request."
"I... of course. I would not profess to understand Her Grace's intent, but your words seem reasonable."
"As they should be."
"If you will only present me with her seal, so that I might be assured of your request's veracity?"
Shit.
"Veracity?"
"I do not mean to impugn your honour, Lord Bolton. But it is well known that you enjoy the Queen's favour far more than you do the King and I do not wish to be caught up in the midst of a dispute between mother and son..."
For fuck's sake.
"Your Holiness is mistaken to think that I have fallen so greatly from the King's favour. And even more mistaken to think to accuse the Queen Mother herself of undermining or usurping the King's authority and mandate."
At that he paled.
"My Lord Bolton-"
"I was not sent here with a seal Your Holiness, for Her Grace the Queen Regent did not think it necessary to impart upon me such an obvious reminder of her person."
He-yo.
"Especially not considering her expectations and trust that you yourself yet remained a devoted and loyal servant of the Iron Throne, one understanding of the burdens and duties laid heavy upon her shoulders in these trying times. But so be it. I shall return to Her Grace this day and inform her of your couched refusal and make request for a seal of her approval. Might I trust that the presence of Ser Illyn Payne will suffice?"
--
In the end, he caved.
Of course he fucking caved, the corrupt, spineless, witless fool.
No, don't think that.
The man was intelligent enough to rise to the highest halls of Westeros's closest excuse for a Papacy.
Probably backed off by Tywin Lannister at some point during his time as Hand of the King or even after the Sack, but still.
It wasn't Borgia level stuff, but if the High Sparrow was anything to go on, Faith politics could get as bloody as anything.
Still, it was done and I was off, in a small carriage with my stolen goods.
The bones of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount and Warden both of the whole of the North.
God, what a fucking trip.
God, what an awkward return to the Red Keep.
--
Black Walder was a damnable coward.
I ask a man to do one thing to secure his freedom, just one thing-
He's boiling the damn skull, that Frey fuck. Then he's eating the damn waste.
"It's too bloody hard to get it off there! The guards there might be half-asleep, but they change patrols on the hour! I pissed my pants when one of the chambermaids walked past!"
Maybe he didn't say the last bit, but you wouldn't doubt it. Have a merciless killer at your disposal, and somehow they get cold feet.
Now I know how Joffrey felt when the Hound pissed himself silly from the wildfire.
Fucking Frey. He better get me that sword if he expects to keep his neck before I haul ass out of King's Landing.
----
All right, so it was harder than I thought to get the sword. And maybe I had to "borrow" some tears of Lys from the Grandmaester to drug some wine for the guards patrolling that night. And maybe Joffrey chose tonight of all nights to visit the small-bridge. Stressed out he might be, but did he really have to keep pacing the walls of the holdfast, to look for reassurance by staring up Stark's rotting skull?
I suppose he's one enemy His "Grace" managed to outlast, even if the reason had been beyond his involvement. Were it not for Petyr Baelish's double-dealing, then Cersei and all three of her children would have been prisoners to Eddard Stark and Stannis might well have been crowned King in the following fortnight.
Of course, Renly would have still fled the capital and been in a position to challenge for the throne, Tywin Lannister would have begun his attack on the Riverlands to exchange Tully hostages for Lannister ones and Lysa Arryn would have holed up in her dead husband's Eyrie.
Oh, there might have been a few Vale lords brave enough to defy her to flock to Eddard Stark and Stannis Baratheon, but depending on how Petyr Baelish massaged matters...
Robert had a bastard girl at the Eyrie, didn't he? And a bastard boy at Storm's End?
Sweetrobin to Mya Stone, Renly backing Edric Storm with a marriage to Margaery Tyrell...
A War of Stags perhaps, rather than Kings.
I'm meandering. Trying not to think too much of the only "stag" who could have me flayed and fed to the palace hunting dogs if word of this skulking in the dark of night somehow reached him. It'd be hard to explain why I was laying flat across the small bridge, leaning out with a hooked staff to pry away a dead man's damnable skull, let alone Eddard Stark's damnable skull.
Even if a riff on poor Yorrick keeps bubbling up in my head.
He's already suspicious, after all. Even his mother's self-assurances as to her appeal couldn't shield me if he had his mind made up. She couldn't protect Eddard Stark after all-
There. It's loosened. Have to be careful now.
Careful...
Careful...
There! Right, now just pop it into the burlap sack...
Grossgrossgrossgrossgross-
I hate my life.
----
Walder was in my room when I returned, his look of triumph undercut as he caught the smell of the burlap sack I was dragging at a distance besides. He backed out of his seat as I waved it near him, leaning out the window as he began to dry heave.
"I didn't expect you to have such a soft stomach," I said as best as I could without smelling the sack myself "But I will admit that this is ... fairly pungent."
"The sword's on the bed," he says with a wave from the window to it "I did my part-"
"You did your swapped part," I corrected, gritting my teeth at the stench "Dare I hope you did it quietly?"
"No, but nobody'll be finding Payne's body. Tough for an old man, that one."
"You-"
"The Spider's little monsters took him away. He'll probably be filler for a bowl of brown the next day."
"Delightful."
"So... about the skull."
"You're boiling it, Frey. As I decided earlier, when you backed out of our initial agreement."
"Bolton-"
"The flesh is spongy. If you've enough hot water sent to your room, you can scrape it off in the morning instead of having a bath."
His mouth hung open slightly at that."
"Walder, I had to drag the damn thing half away across the Red Keep. Had I been caught at any point, then-"
"Then what? Who the hell is going to be surprised to find you with a rotting skull?!?"
"... Point taken. That being said, I took great personal risk at a time when I find myself falling out of His Grace's favor to service our escape."
"We didn't need the damn skull to escape! We still don't!"
"Walder," I said with a long suffering sigh "If you would prefer not to be suspected of treasonous intent the moment we miraculously make our way to the Stark encampment, then we need to make this damn affair as bold as possible. If we are to have any chance of swaying the Starks into conflict with Stannis Baratheon, of claiming your birthright of the Twins ahead of your brothers, uncles and cousins, then you will do as I say, and clean this god-forsaken skull."
I should not have lost my temper.
I should have kept a clearer mind about me.
Perhaps if I had, I would have heard the pitter-patter of a young girl's feet away from my room.
----
"Absolutely not."
"Absolutely not?" she echoed with a slight frown "I wasn't aware you could countermand my son's direct orders, Lord Bolton."
"Your Grace, while I understand your royal son's distrust, the presence of a man such as the Hound on our escape would diminish our credibility. The man's killed Stark wolves, his brother sacked half a dozen towns in the Riverlands. The Starks might well arrest him to see him pay for those crimes. We would be sending a able warrior away from the defense of this city at it's most dire hour."
"My son is not convinced of your loyalty to the Iron Throne, Lord Bolton. Choosing to protest this will hardly dissuade him, however much you or I know our straits here in the capital."
If I get killed at the 13th hour because Sandor fucking Clegane has his marching orders...
"Clegane is only a sword, Lord Bolton. One that could very easily see you to Harrenhal safer than you might yourself."
"This is a risk, my Queen... but I will do my best to manage it."
"Hmm. Is your escape plan decided?"
"Roughly so. My initial cover was that I would head into the city with the Riverlords, taking a carriage to go off on a bout of whoring. We'd take the Stokeworth carriage however, and in doing so divert to the gates, claiming the Lady Stokeworth and her daughters wished to return to their castle."
"The City Watch would question why you were not bearing their arms and sigils."
"Black Walder has a relative among the Most Devout, one who is on good terms with a captain of the City Watch. He's arranged it so that we would be traveling through during his shift at the River Gate. As for arms and sigils, the Lannister guards typically accompanying us will be sleeping off some wine in the stable hay. The Riverlords will replace them."
"And the Stark girl?"
"Clegane's usually been her minder, and I'd half-hoped to suggest he allows us the fiction of overpowering him to present this as a true escape to her. But if he's coming along, then he could escort her to the stables and into the carriage. Him at the head of the escort... we could pretend the Stokeworth departure was to do with gathering more levies or foodstuffs for the city. Give the Frey's pet Watch captain some deniability when Janos Slynt looks for someone to scapegoat."
"Is he aware of our collusion in this matter?"
"No."
"Then given that he agreed to release actual prisoners of His Grace including a valuable hostage in Sansa Stark, he'll suffice as a scapegoat. Joffrey cannot afford to look too weak with your escape, after all."
I could only nod to that.
God forgive me.
