AN: Voldemort in this story is still only a six or seven year old, physically that is. So, to the reviewer who wanted Voldemort to start fucking ever woman around, well, I don't think even a wizard can start fuck before puberty. Pairing might probably go with casual or maybe Voldemort/Wildling babe/Margarey/Danaerys. Haven't really thought that far. Would have gone with Cersei but she is simply too old and I more or less removed her from the equation by making her Lyanna's f* buddy.
Month 5, 287 AC, King's LandingIt took us a bit over 2 month to travel from Winterfell to the capitol. Despite marching at top speed, as per Robert's insistence, the convoy stopped at every major castle, causing the delay. Things would have been be much simpler if I were to simply apparate out or even use the muggle transportation from Earth.
A party of what appeared to be a feminine bald man, two old men – one weak (pretending), other spiry – a dour faced shit, a happy but air-headed shit and finally, a very foolish, naive brave man was standing outside the city gates to welcome us (the king anyway). On my inquisitive glance, the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister whispered, "The baldy is Master of Whispers Varys, old man is Grandmaester Pycelle, the other old man is Jon Arryn – hand of king, dour face is Stannis – Master of Ships, happy face is Renly – Master of Law, shifty one is Petyr Baelish – Master of Coins and finally, Ser Oakheart the staunch – Lord Commander of Kingsguard". (Given the volcanic death of Barristan, Ser Arys Oakheart was elevated to the rank of Lord Commander) During our journey south, I had developed a sort of friendship with the dwarf.
The dwarf was happy his sister was dumped in the North far away that she couldn't hurt him and at the same time, angry with Robert for throwing his brother Jaime in the dungeons. As far as he knew, I was also angry with the king, and apparently, this allowed us to bond over shared "anger". Interesting fellow, smart too. He would have been a shoe-in candidate as my inner-circle member if it wasn't for being a bit softhearted and more importantly, the Lannister pride.
The dour-face Stannis was first to greet us with, "Robert – rather kind of you to let us handle the kingdom for almost 5 months. And now, you have brought the whole North with you."
Renly quickly interjected, "Not to worry Robert – the realm has done well despite your absence. But, I did not expect Lord Stark to come south with you. And the queen? I do not see her or her wheelhouse?"
Robert responds with an uncaring shrug, "My wife decided the frozen North is better for her constitution then Kings Landing. She will be staying there indefinitely along with my two youngest. As for Brandon Stark here, well the queen is there he is here."
A lengthy silence ensues only to be broken by a perplexed Jon Arryn, "What would poses the queen to stay in Winterfell instead of the capital? And why would you bring Lord Brandon Stark here – he should be learning to rule his lands, now that he is nearing his majority."
"Who knows what that woman is thinking? All I know is I can whore as much as I want without that harpy cursing my bollocks off. Now, I need to hurry – Baelish, you have some new girls for me I trust?", shouted Robert. Petyr Baelish gave a self-effacing grin and quickly guided Robert away, presumably towards a whorehouse.
Seeing Arryn and other small council member still perplexed, I give a rather loaded response, "I suppose the queen had more then enough of her husband's whore mongering and drunken antics. Not exactly a shining example of chivalry the king is."
Arryn gives a sharp look and says, "That is the king you are talking about Lord Stark."
"King he may be but he is still a drunk whoremonger. Try not to deny it Lord Arryn. If you wish to deny it, I shall understand, after all you taught him all he knows."
The old man looked as if he were forced to swallow a biter pill. One for Lord Voldemort. Zero for stupid old muggle.
Before he could formulate any response, Varys quickly asks, "If I may my lord, why did you chose to visit kings landing? Starks don't really come this far south unless they have a good reason."
"You are the Master of Whispers aren't you baldy?", I asked? Before he could answer anything, Tyrion gave a drunken, "Yes – he is the master of whispers and apparently quiet rude. It is a customary to introduce yourself before asking questions".
I then continue, "Whoever said I am here by choice? Didn't you spies tell you the reason? It seems I am here to as a hostage. In Robert's own words, since North has his queen, he should have it's Lord. Arryn, you taught the fat king something more then just drinking and whoring."
Arryn appeared more and more distraught when Oakheart asked, "And what would that be my lord?"
"A little thing called how to break friendship and cause dismay. After all, by taking a 7 year old heir hostage, he has destroyed his friendship with his foster brother. And of course, having Jaime Lannister thrown into the deepest, coldest dungeon of Winterfell must have been enough to destroy whatever little affection the queen had for him. I wonder how angry Tywin Lannister is. Tyrion here tells me the realm owes more the a million gold dragons to Tywin. Is that true?" I phrase the whole thing in the most innocent manner possible, which is somewhat ruined my death eaters standing around with swords ready to be drawn.
All six of the pale significantly. Tyrion, still drunk decides to juice things up a bit with, "Which one was worse? Angering my father? Or angering the whole of North? I have been told North never forgets and of course, a Lannister always pays there debt. Not sure what that means for future, but well I am only a dwarf. Well, cheerio lords – I need to find a whore, my cock is getting cold."
The dwarf is one of a kind. None of my death eaters had that kind of wit. Bella was witty but in a sadistic way not fun way. Before I could make up an excuse and vanish, Arryn speaks, "Lord Stark, please you should know that you are in no way a hostage. The very idea of keeping a Stark as hostage is insane. If it wasn't for a Stark, Robert wouldn't be King"
I adopt a chilly demeanor, "Arryn, I do not know how your mind works, but I was forced to leave my home. I was forced to journey for two months and apparently, I will have to live in this smelly, dirty town for who knows how long. All against my will. Your king himself told me and my bannermen I am coming south since the queen chose to stay North. If that does not mean I am a hostage, then what does it mean?"
None of the fools have any comeback. However, Stannis the dour-face grinds his teeth, "That might or might not be true, but you will show the Hand of King the respect he deserves. Do you understand boy?"
I finally had reason to let loose my dark lord persona. Just like that, my face took a snake like appearance, eyes narrowed to a slit and my magical aura was let loose. For the uninformed, my aura is that of killing curse. Suffocating, uncomfortable and powerful. "Lord Dour face – like Tyrion said, you should introduce yourself before you speak. Since you didn't I shall call you Lord Dour from now on. As to respect, I am Lord Voldemort. North never forgets. Arryn should remember that. Excellent, anymore questions?"
They all appear to be flummoxed at how a 7 year old could talk down them down, and so, taking advantage of their state, I speak out, "Since King Robert has proven himself to be a rather inattentive host by not providing lodgings for us northern savages, I believe I shall take my leave in order to find proper quarters." With a mocking bow, I left them to their own thoughts.
Finding quarters wasn't that hard. The men dispatched via. sea had already identified a proper mansion for me to take over and all I had to do was imperio the owner. A quick bit of spell work and a grand mansion on top of the cliff right next to the Red Keep was available for the Northern force. Given my paranoid self, I spent the better part of night setting up the wards – nothing extravagant, just friend or foe identification wards, repulsion, notice-me-not, fear, standard anti-fire etc. The more extravagant work like setting up escape tunnels towards sea (almost a 200 feet down the cliff) or towards Flea bottom would have to wait until tomorrow.
The name king's landing was a misnomer to the highest degree – damn place oughta be called shit's landing. Smelled as if someone had cast a fart hex on Hagrid. My mansion was somewhat immune to the smell as the cold sea air took care of all unpleasantness but still, the view wasn't particularly nice. Perhaps I should transfigure a few nobles to house elves and have them clean the area? Growing up during the second world war had given me a deep seated hatred of self-entitled rich pricks, probably why I had all the rich purebloods kiss the hem of my robe even if I personally thought the whole thing rather distasteful. Perhaps I should make these buffoons do that once I take over? Food for thought. Do I even want to take over?
Court of King Robert, Jon Arryn presiding, Jon Arryn's POVBeing the hand of king, despite the popular opinion wasn't an endearing job – at least being Robert's hand. Truthfully, Robert, while I think of the lad as my own son, has proven himself the be one of the worst kind of king. Not on the scale of mad king but still, not good for the well being of realm. If this stunt of exiling his own queen in the North and then, taking the incumbent Lord of said country hostage is not the proof of his stupidity, then I do not know what is. He had already been shaming his queen by unrestrained drinking and whoring, but what he has done now is beyond the realm of acceptable. Not just that, he threw his one of his own kingsguard in a dungeon for almost a month – not something a rational man would do.
Now, the whole of North is angry since he has taken their Lord – who by all account is rather well loved, hostage. Then, there is Tywin Lannister. Exiled his daughter. Threw his son in a dungeon. Basically, Robert has angered the largest portion of Westeros, which coincidentally happened to have some of the best fighters, and he has also angered the most feared man who the crown owes more then a million dragons in debt. Madness.
To make things worse, it has been a whole week and Brandon Stark still hasn't bothered to show himself in the court. Despite being a seven year old lordling, the boy has the temperance of wolf-kings from stories. He is truly Brandon's son. The little display when we greeted him first had solidified his image as the wolf king. When he said, "North never forgets", it appeared to be directed towards me. Was it because he blamed me for Robert's stupidity? Quiet possible, given that I had a direct hand in Robert's education. But, deep down I felt there was more to those words, something prophetic. Perhaps an old man reading too much to an angry child's rambling but again, Brandon Stark or more commonly known as Lord Voldemort did not seem like a child at that moment.
When he finally deigned to show up in court, it was as if he were invading the Red Keep. Without any warning, 20 armored Northern soldiers walked into the court room followed by the boy himself. He was flanked by a pair of dark clothed, masked guards. Death eaters he called them and apparently, "They eat death meant for him and shit said death on the enemy". And, I was inclined to believe their words given how terrifying they appeared to be.
After herald announced him as "Lord Brandon Stark, heir to the North", I asked him, "Lord Brandon, would you like to address the court?"
One of his death eaters spoke in a deep, threatening voice, "Hand of the King, you have not been given leave to address my master with his first name. You shall either address him as Lord Stark or not address him at all. If you do not honor such protocol, I will challenge House Arryn to an honor duel!"
Everyone, including me were simply aghast. It was customary to address a heir with their first name and challenging a Lord Paramount, much less the Hand of King to an honor duel was simply unheard of. Before I could formulate a proper sentence, Ser Meryn Trant spoke, "My Lord, shall I teach this peasant a lesson?"
As my mind tried to comprehend the situation, the brat interrupted, "Wait, wait – if this is to be an honor duel, we should decide on the terms first. Since the old man there has insulted me and now, has challenged mine to a duel, what will I get when my champion trounces the fool?"
For the first time since I was a youngster, I Jon Arryn the wise, am seeing red. The impudence of this brat. "What do you want brat? Not that you shall win of course."
"I get to address you in any manner I wish." replied the brat promptly.
"And you shall take the black when my champion kills your death eater. Agreed?" I fire back.
The brat simply smirks and says, "Aren't you supposed to be Jon Arryn the wise? The fair? Does anyone thing our terms are equal? Me, a young 6 year old wasting my life in wall vs. a decrepit old man being insulted a bit? Soon to be Lord wasting his life away vs. an old man who can't satisfy his wife being called out for what he is?"
The answer is clear on everyone's face is clear and before I could rectify the terms, the brat again speaks, "However, I am in the right here. The gods are with me. Let the terms stand and soon, I shall be calling the Hand whatever I wish. If any of you wish to call him something specific, let me know and it shall be done. Now, fight!"
How can a six or seven year old be this smart? He played the crowd. No matter how this duel ends, I will loose. The Lord commander attempts to stall the duel until the king arrives but the brat wouldn't have it - "My honor has been questioned and North shall not stand for it!". I am certain he doesn't particularly care for honor either way.
Within an hour, everyone have arrived in the training yard. Even Robert managed to get there – some how Ser Oakheart managed to find him and get him away from his newest whore. Damn Robert didn't even try to stop the duel. Soon enough, Robert proclaimed, "Let the duel begin!"
The brat was sitting on the far end surrounded by his soldiers, all of them ready to draw at a moment's notice. Meryn Trant gave a deep bow to the King while the death eater briefly glanced at this master. Uncivilized bastard.
Trant was heavily armored. The DE seemed to be wearing voluminous black robe that gave appearance of dark cloud whenever he moved. When I commented how the DE seemed unarmored, Ser Oakheart pointed out, "The way his robes appear to swell around key areas means he is well armored underneath his robe. His robe is also being used to hide his movements. Blount will most likely loose and loose badly at that."
"Death Eater – just a fancy title made by a child with too much time in his hands. Once his champion looses, I will but the boy in his place", I said despite the severe misgiving in the pit of my stomach.
Just as Oakheart predicted, Blount lost. Badly at that. The DE easily dodged his first strike, stepped behind the knight and peppered his joints with sharp thrust, not enough to kill him, but enough to render the poor bastard immobile. In a display of brute force, the DE ripped off the kingsguard helmet, placed a knife at the fallen opponent's jugular and looked at his master as if asking for orders. The boy looked around and started to play the crowd. And just as before, he started to make me appear as the villain.
"Should I let the kingsguard die? Should he die because he fought for Jon Arryn's lack of decorum? What do you say people? Let an innocent knight of realm die for the stupidity of the king's hand? Ser Blount, do you wish to die because Jon Arryn has to feel good?" The boy delivers it perfectly. He spoke in a low voice and yet, there is no doubt in my mind everyone heard him.
Ser Blount is the first to respond, "No – I do not wish to die for nothing." The crowd then chants, "Mercy, mercy, mercy".
With a smile, the boy says, "Let him go. No need for a good man to die because a self-important old bastard had to feel good. And Jon Arryn, I believe I have earned the right to call you whatever name I wish?"
I grit my teeth and reply, "You do Lord Stark. You can call me by any name you wish."
Robert laughs and says, "Brandon – you should call him righteous fool. We wanted to call him so back in the early days."
"Bah – I will think of something else Robert" replied the brat. Apparently, the brat could call the king by his name and get away with it. But again, he might simply call for an honor duel since Robert initiated the breach of etiquette. His guard had been proven to be sufficiently better then one of the kingsguard. According to the stories, a single death eater was capable of taking 10 well armed men and come out top so the brat had nothing to worry about.
"Old fool – what am I going to be doing during the entirety of my stay here as a hostage? I do need to learn how to rule. Find me something to do or I might start taking over the damn place" shouted the impudent critter.
With a grimace, I answered, "There is nothing for you to rule and no one will take you under there wing after today's display, so I suppose you could attend the small council meeting. Just try not to do a repeat performance."
The bastard smiles and says, "Well Jon Arryn, I shall see you tomorrow at this small council meeting. Unlike you all, my instrument is not so little so perhaps as long as I attend the meeting, you might want to call it big council meeting."
The joke is somewhat lost on me until Baelish starts laughing. Quickly, I catch on – how did Ned's nephew become so vulgar? Talk of North being a savage place by the sept might be true.
Voldemort's POVThe whole court attendance was glorious. I got to piss on the muggles and had a license to insult the king's hand. As much as I like killing, this whole political intrigue might be even more fun. Even better, I managed to push my way into the small council as an observer. What chaos shall I sow there? They will die by my hands eventually in the most painful manner but until then, who says I can't have a bit of fun at their expense?
So far, I had already terrorized six of the seven small council members. Only Petyr Baelish had escaped my initial terror blitz. As such, I went about rectifying that error right after the court. My search lead me directly to a rather high end brothel.
As the greatest dark lord who commanded some of the worst death eaters, I thought I had seen just about the most vile acts possible, but Baelish seemed to blow all my previous exceptions out of water. When I arrived in his brothel, he was in the process of talking young girl on why being a whore was the best option for her. Killing to serve a purpose or even killing for fun is entirely expected from Lord Voldemort – as long as the one doing the dying happen to be a mudblood of course. But, I had never forced anyone, especially one so young into prostitution. Baelish was forcing a girl into prostitution by acting like a father figure. Simply disgusting.
For a moment, I simply wanted to crucio the man until his brain melted but given it was too early in the game, that wasn't an option. So, my death eater, who by now knew how to read my subtlest mood shift quickly knocked the man unconscious. The girl, who was staring hatefully at Baelish looked at us with a hint of gratitude and also fear mixed with defiance – forcing me to look at her with mage sight. Lo and behold! She had the blood of first men and that meant she was an excellent candidate for my death eater spell! Well, a quick leglimency scan showed a deep seated hatred for all of kings landing and just about every single noble you could think of. Could this be my Bellatrix Lestrange in this world?
"Girl – You hate that bastard don't you?"
"What is it to you brat? You are just another rich noble, why do you care about us poor bastards?" spat the 12 year old.
A bastard? "I am not just another rich noble girl. I am from the north. We don't make a habit of whoring out girls. And, do you hate that shit?"
"Aye – I hate him. And I hate every other rich bastard here in King's Landing" spoke the girl.
"Say I have one of my men teach you how to fight, will you work for me?"
"Why? I am not going to be your whore if that is what you are asking."
"I don't need a whore and if you insinuate I am a whoring man, I will cut your tongue. Understood?", this is followed by my death eater giving her a menacing look.
A bit cowed, she says, "Why do you need me anyway? You have your soldiers. And by the look of it, you are plenty rich."
"We are new to Kings Landing. Can always use someone familiar. Also, don't you want to get back to whichever noble sired you and dumped you like yesterday's trash? I am here giving you the means, the question is will you take it?"
She gets a thoughtful look and asks, "You aren't going to whore me out or anything?"
"No – my death eater here will train you and someday, if you so wish, I will have you as one of my death eaters."
"Death eaters? I like that. I'm in – don't get in my way when I go after the bastard that sired me", she said.
"Mind if I ask who exactly sired you? And somehow, I get the feeling that you aren't going after a single person, are you?"
"The king sired me and his hand, Jon Arryn took me away from my mother because I wasn't supposed to disgrace the Vale. I will see them both dead, one way or the other."
"Well, I have no plan to obstruct your vengeance. But, what should I call you?"
"Mya Stone is what they named me."
"Not anymore. From now on, you are Bellatrix of House Black. And, you shall be my greatest death eater."
"You are just going to give me a house? Can you even do that? The realm says I am a bastard."
"Why do you care what the realm says? You are a bastard only if you think you are. From now on, you are Lady Bellatrix of House Black, sworn to House Stark. And that is that. Anyone has a problem, one of my death eater shall have them to an honor duel"
"Hahaha – Yesterday I was a bastard, today I am a Lady. But, what do you plan to do with this bastard?"
"Well Bella dear, he wanted to whore you out, so would you like to torture him a bit? Don't worry about the consequences – I will make him right as rain afterward."
"How?"
"Doesn't matter – and again, do you want to get even?"
"Oh yes" and with a grin she approaches Baelish who is finally coming out of his forced sleep. Quickly, I ensure the privacy charms are still in place and sit down to watch the show. One of the death eater moves forward to assist my newly coined Bella in her first step towards vengeance. Her smile is eerily reminiscent of my Bellatrix. Perhaps I will truly have a version of Bella back.
By the time Baelish came out of his forced slumber, he was properly chained in the BDSM themed apparatus that adorned his office. As he comprehended the situation, he started screaming his tops off about how we were all going to suffer and all the jazz.
Bella asked, "Lord Stark, How much damage can I do to him? And when you said you will make him right as rain, do you truly mean it?"
Irritated at her continued questioning of my abilities, I spat, "Yes woman. Do what you wish with him. As long as you don't kill him, I will have him fixed. Think of it as magic – until you swear yourself to me, I cannot tell anything more." Actually, I can but if she swears herself to me willingly, the death eater spell will hold much easier.
And then the torture of Baelish began. "Want to whore me out, huh pig?" and Baelish gave a shrill yell courtesy of her pulling his finger nail. The she started using a simple stick to swat the slimy mudblood all over as if he were a stack of hay. It was like watching a master at work – no two blows fell at the same place and by the time she was done, Baelish could not even speak. Finally she whispered in his ears, "I am going to give you one final gift. May you never ever think of whoring out young girls like me again" and crushed his balls against the stone floor. And now I was truly thankful of the privacy wards.
What this girl did to Baelish, it was some what similar to what Bella did to the warden of Azkaban a long time ago. Most of the pureblood death eaters always thought physical torture was beneath them. Me? I knew better. Physical torture gives a certain kind of pain that magic simply can't replicate and Bella was one of the few DE's that understood this. Just like magic could never replicate physical pain, it also could never give the physical pleasure of sex – the one thing that my horcruxes deprived me of. By the time I had learned of this not so tiny fact, it was already too late for me back then but here in this world? I had no need of horcrux. I knew how to make the philosopher's stone and well, magically speaking, I was greater then Merlin. One of the many reason why puberty sounded so wonderful. Pity mother got her claws on Cersei.
But, I digress – that is all in the past. Right now, my Bella reincarnate had done an impossible amount of damage to Baelish and since letting the man dead was not an option for now, it was my solemn duty to make him whole again. However, I had no intention to let him go easy. My choice of healing spells on Baelish were simple. They would fix all the damage cosmetic or not but, leave the pain. In fact, I had designed those spells for the express purpose of torturing traitorous death eaters without ending there lives. No amount of spell or pain relievers would fix the pain – only time. The pain would last as long as the would would have lasted if they were to heal by natural means. So, poor Baelish was going to be pain for a long long time and maester would simply tell him he is suffering from delusions of pain – nothing more. The only thing I didn't truly heal was his crushed testicles. Correction – I replaced the crushed flesh with some rubber balls. He would really have balls from now on. See mudbloods? Lord Voldemort can make jokes. Ha ha ha ha.
My Bella was pleased so, even if you mudbloods are horrified with the slime-balls treatment, not my problem. Liberal use of oblivate spell had him believing that Bella died during her whore training and the evening of beat down never happened. The small council meeting should be interesting – let's see how the council functions with a not-really-there Master of coins.
Next week, Small Council meeting (Neutral POV)As custom dictated, the meeting was held right after breakfast. The attendants were all supposed to be there right on time, no exceptions. Even Lord Voldemort had arrived exactly on time despite being only an observer. Minutes trickled by but the most integral part of small council, Lord Baelish was still not there.
"Old man – is this supposed to be the council that runs the kingdom or a mummers dance, where one can do as they please? Where is the masters of coin?" asked the rather chipper child.
With a exasperated sigh, the Hand of King responded, "No Lord Voldemort – this is not a mummers dance. Lord Baelish should be on his way, perhaps he was caught up with something important?"
"Something more important then the small council meeting? Don't answer that fool. He is probably finding another whore for the king. I am finally glad Aunt Lyanna is dead – at least she did not have to suffer the indignities of a whoremonger for husband, unlike our queen. No wonder the queen chose to stay in Winterfell."
Varys titters a bit and says "Indeed", while Pycelle simply harrumphs. Arryn on the other hand gets a deep look and says, "Perhaps my lord, you should know that the king has become this way by losing the woman he loved?"
"Well, if you can love a woman you have seen twice then yes. But you should know Arryn, a leopard doesn't change it's color nor does a pig change it's diet. I wonder what Lord Lannister has to say about what happened with his son and the exile of his daughter?"
Before Arryn could answer, Varys picked up, "I believe I can answer that my lord. Tywin Lannister is on his way to kings landing. It seems he is rather angry and might recall the debt owed by crown."
"He should be. Any father would be humiliated if their daughter were to be treated the way Queen Cersei was. And what is this I hear about the crown's debt?" perked up Voldemort.
Arryn simply gave another sigh and thought, "Why is this little shit intent on raising hell? I should have just stayed in the Eyrie and let Tywin Lannister run things here."
Pycelle, always the Lannister supporter answered, "Well my lord, crown owes about a million dragon to Lord Lannister and well, given how King Robert has treated both Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime, Tywin Lannister might not be particularly forgiving."
Before Lord Voldemort could say anything, Varys threw his two-cents, "Maester Pycelle – don't forget about the debt to the Iron Bank of Bravos. Our King certainly loves his fun."
As Pycelle grumbled, "It is Grandmaester not maester", Arryn finally spoke, "Please Lord Voldemort – let the Master of coin talk about the debts when he arrives. For now, let us simply enjoy some wine."
Lord Voldemort who by now had gone completely silent gives a small growl and thunders, "Foolish old bastard – you think I will be peaceful when the realm owes gold dragon to some bravossi cunts? If owing gold to Lannister wasn't bad enough, you had to go borrow from those cutthroat bankers too? I do not know what you fools have been doing but I swear if this doesn't stop, North will disavow any debt of the Iron throne – when the Iron Bank comes collecting it's debt, North will not be held responsible. I won't have a faceless man visit me in my damn chambers, hear me you old fossil?"
All the small council members present are suitably alarmed by the declaration. Stannis is the one who finally gets his act together and speaks, "Then what exactly will you do my lord? It is not like you can stop Robert from borrowing, is it?"
"What I shall do is inform the Iron bank North will not support anymore lending to the throne. Once the other lord paramounts are informed of this, what do you think they will do? The very best is they will follow my example. The worst is they will come for all your head. After all, you all allowed the kingdom to bled didn't you?", smirked the Northern Lord.
Ser Oakheart who had so far been silent finally speaks, "Perhaps someone should go and get the Master of coins? He might know more about the debt situation."
Renly smiles and shouts, "Let me! I will go and get him. No matter where he is, I shall drag him here."
Arryn somewhat relieved to not be at the center of a very troublesome conversation, lets the happy Renly run off.
Small Council Meeting, Voldemort POVThe meeting was fun. More then fun actually. I pushed around the whole debt to bravos and treatment of Queen Cersei as a moral issue. Using Lyanna was a masterstroke – Arryn's face was brilliant. There reaction on how I would disavow all debt of Iron Throne was marvelous. Bah – as if I were afraid of some assassins. To be honest, I would love to get my hands on some faceless men. I never really saw a need for cloak and dagger business such as assassination but still, no harm in learning new tricks.
A few minutes after Renly took off, a guard wearing Renly's color ran into the meeting room and said, "Grand maester Pycelle, Lord Renly is asking you to come immediately. Lord Baelish is in tremendous pain my lord."
Oakheart, always the one looking for the security and everything shots upward and speaks sharply, "What happened to him?"
"I don't know my lord. He looks perfectly fine but is complaining of pain. He says it hurts all over but there seems nothing wrong with him", said the messenger.
"It might be some poison, but I will have to see him first" spoke Pycelle and we all made to follow the man, presumably to wherever the Master of Coin was located.
Unsurprisingly, Baelish was in a whorehouse. To keep up with the persona I had built, I fired, "Oiee Arryn – should we change the title Master of Coins to Master of Whores? After all it looks like the man lives in a whorehouse."
Dour-face-Stannis gives a bark of laughter surprising everyone while Arryn simply glowers. Once we reach Baelish, Pycelle looks all over the man and says, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. Whatever pain it is, it is all in his head. May be he drank too much? Or hit his head too hard?"
"Or, maybe he knew that I was going to ask about the debt and now is hiding behind this pretend pain. Ser Oakheart, perhaps you should poke him with your sword?"
Oakheart gives a hint of a smile but Baelish yells out some more gibberish. Sounds like, "Fuck you – fuck your debt. I am in pain here."
Pycelle then says, "Lets try some milk of poppy. That might help some."
Arryn quickly stops him with, "No Grand maester. That might stop his imaginary pain but it will also make sure he can't attend the meeting. The small council can't go on without a master of coins for too long. Baelish are you willing to give up your position as Master of Coins?"
"NO" yelled the worm.
"Then you shall accompany us for the meeting. Take some wine if you have to but do not let this imaginary pain get to your head" ordered Arryn.
As we walked back, I asked, "Baelish – I might be able to help you with your pain. Are you willing?"
Still wincing in pain, the man barks out a yes.
My death eater, in a blink of eye gives a sharp jab onto his kidneys. Baelish drops to the ground and yells, "Why did you do that you little bastard?"
"First, you shall address me as my lord since my station is higher then yours." BANG – the DE punches him, knocking a few teeth out. "And, by causing some pain in your kidneys, wasn't the rest of your pain lowered?"
"Yes it did my lord" gritted out the worm.
The death eater growled in his ear, "Shouldn't you say thank you?"
"Thank you my lord"
The other small council member who had simply watched us for the time being started asking what the hell just happened. Pycelle then asked, "My lord what exactly did you do?"
"I had read about imaginary pain and how you can focus on real pain to forget the imaginary pain for a bit. So, Baelish here was a test case. Now we know. And Master of Coins – every time you have pain, you will have to have someone inflict REAL pain on yourself. Obviously, I won't be there. Maybe one of your guards?"
Renly, always the one for a bit of fun, "I am always for inflicting a bit of pain my friend"
Stannis the loyal brother interjects, "He is talking about real pain you fool not your kind of pain. Just because you love a bit of pain in your backside doesn't mean we need to hear about it.", thus putting down the happier brother.
After that, the meeting proceeds in a somewhat boring fashion. The debt situation is not good – a million to Tywin, another million to Iron bank. My threat of writing to the Iron bank and disavowing the debt on part of North seems to be working and the council seems to rather compliant. Tywin on the other hand, is apparently less then a week from King's landing. Let's see what the old lion will do to the stag – tear it to pieces perhaps?
Voldemort's MansionAlmost a month since arrival in Kings Landing and yet, so little had been done. I already had a equivalent of Bellatrix, now it seemed an equivalent of Narcissa would have to be found. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was an excellent secretary, and as it turns out, despite being the greatest dark lord ever, my file management skills are useless then ever. No wonder I haven't done much despite being in King's Landing for almost a month.
Terrorize the small council. Check. Establish a base of operation. Check. Get a Bella in training. Check. Terrorize Lord Baelish. Check. Recruit local soldiers and saboteurs. Not Yet. Escape plans. Not Yet. Identify who is who. In progress.
My base of operations had been well set. The wards were operating properly – no unwanted muggles would be able to notice it much less enter said property. The secondary objective, establishing tunnels leading to the Flea Bottom, Red Keep and down towards the sea, however was lagging. I had tortured out enough mining spell from the goblins that digging the tunnels wouldn't be an issue, but apparently the Red Keep had it's own magic. What was it with this world and the pockets of magic lying all around? I would have to find a way to either circumvent the magic of Red Keep or even better, take over the magic of Red Keep. Taking over the Red Keep seemed like the best option since it would give me a foot hold in the heart of the nation's capital itself.
The implication of Red Keep having magic was much more drastic. Winterfell had magic and it was 8000 years old. Red Keep was only 300 years old and it also had magic. Did it mean all the other castles had magic? I had a gut feeling the major castles at least might have magic, however small. A tour of Westeros was in order. Perhaps visiting every single major castle in the name of friendship but modifying their magic for the express purpose of serving my needs was a strategically sound concept.
