AN: Currently shooting for a Sunday/Wednesday-ish update schedule.

ooOoo

Jon Connington had been quite the rising star once upon a time. A talented fighter in his own right, a skilled and energetic leader of men, and a close friend to the crown prince. He and Rhaegar had been practically joined at the hip. Or, some had it, joined more intimately than that. In any event, Robert's Rebellion had been his making and his undoing.

Connington would never have been given high office under Aerys in peacetime. The old madman was far too paranoid about being usurped by his son. It took a war he was on the verge of losing for Aerys to put competence ahead of loyalty. By the same token, Aerys wouldn't have lived forever. If he had died and Rhaegar had peacefully ascended to the throne, Connington could have been made the King's Hand without an ultimatum hanging over his head.

And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Connington had taken his shot at power and done his level best to capture Robert and end the rebellion. He failed and was promptly sent into exile. Apparently he had made something of himself in Essos. Not so high a rank that the Golden Company was unwilling to lose him, but high enough that he had been given a key command. And who knows, maybe he insisted on leading the rearguard. He could have acquired a taste for lost causes in fighting for Rhaegar.

The insult to his beloved prince got a reaction out of him where Petyr's assault had failed. Connington thrashed about wildly, a snarl on his face, as he did his level best to break free and kill me. Fortunately, Petyr had chosen a pair of stout lads to act as guards. They kept a solid grip on him until he gave up on trying to break free. Though physically he sagged in defeat, the glare he shot me was still filled with murderous intent.

"And I would have respected the Blackfish were he not a traitor."

Petyr stepped forward, drawing his hand back to slug Connington again. He stepped back when I held up a hand to calm him down.

"Now, now, it's not treason if you win," I said. "Besides, come to that, Aerys broke faith when he burned his loyal vassals to death."

"Only a king can judge the actions of a king," Connington replied, his enthusiasm undiminished.

A brief note on Westerosi politics. I was in no way, shape, or form interested in bringing democracy to the Seven Kingdoms. I'd seen what happened when you tried to introduce democracy to people who weren't particularly interested in it, and I didn't even have jet planes or armored tanks on my side. Besides, the political system in Westeros wasn't that bad by medieval standards. There were laws in place limiting what the aristocracy could do and feudal obligations were in fact reciprocal. Now, were those laws enforced even handedly against the politically connected? Not really, but that's more of a problem with human nature than with monarchy. Someday I might like to help introduce a local Magna Carta if I got the chance, but for the most part I wanted to stay out of politics entirely.

All that said, Connington's remark managed to rouse my inner populist. I did my best to resist the temptation of being essentially a law unto myself when running the Sunset Legion, and I didn't appreciate the suggestion that it was a right and proper way for a monarch to behave.

"I'd say Robert found Rhaegar's arguments lacking and passed a final judgment."

Connington had begun to sag a bit with fatigue, but the mention of Robert jolted him back upright and brought a furious light to his eyes. "The usurper is no true king."

I shook my head, then turned to address Petyr with my reply. "Isn't it amazing how much wiggle room you can create with one little word? Robert sits on the Iron Throne. The Lords Paramount pay his taxes and march at his command. He's killed everyone who seriously contested his right to rule. That's as much as Aegon ever did, and Robert didn't have any dragons. That's a true enough king for me."

I had turned back to Connington and saw him sag as I finished my little speech. I didn't kid myself that I had persuaded him. More likely he had only been running on that initial rush of anger, and now that his energy had run out he had no wish to continue debating for the sake of debating. He did still have one last spark of defiance in him, though.

"I suppose you'll march me back to your king and beg him for a reward."

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud at that. It took me a moment to get it out of my system and wipe the tear from my eye.

"I hardly any need any reward from Robert and, to be honest, I doubt your name has crossed his mind for years," I said. "Now, will you give your parole?"

He stared at me blankly.

"Well?" I asked, a little impatient. "Will you swear not to try to escape, not to harm any of my men, and not to sabotage our war effort for the duration of hostilities?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, it's a question of whether you'd like to stay with us and have relatively free run of the camp. If you'd rather be with the rest of the prisoners in Selhorys, there's no need to do anything."

I didn't expect him to be keen on being held prisoner by the people he'd been besieging. I intended to intervene to ensure that everybody we turned over survived the experience, but realistically there was only so much I could do about the conditions of anybody imprisoned. It didn't take him long to make his choice.

"Very well."

"Make your oath, then."

He did. Never let it be said that Jon Connington can't manage a nice turn of phrase. When he finished I nodded at the men who were holding him captive.

"Let him go, boys."

They complied.

"Dig his personal effects out of the rest of the captured equipment and keep them somewhere secure. Petyr, see to getting him issued a tent and some food, and make sure our men are aware of his status."

Petyr looked stricken at the turn things had taken. "Captain, I-"

"If you require any clarification of your orders," I interrupted, "we can discuss them tonight. Now, if there are no immediate concerns?"

There weren't. The little group bustled out of my tent, leaving me alone with my paperwork.

ooOoo

It wasn't long after sunset that I was interrupted by a knock against the pole in the center of my tent's entry way. I had finished with all of the urgent paperwork by that time and was working on my personal journal, so I didn't feel any guilt about putting it aside to focus on the figure of Petyr Baelish. He looked a bit nervous, as well he might. It was one thing to react with surprise when an order was given, but quite another to continue to press a commanding officer for his reasoning.

I did my best to put him at ease, gesturing for him to come inside and take a seat. I pulled a pair of glasses from beneath the table along with a decanter. Each glass received a generous couple of fingers of clear liquid. I had worked with a clever man in Volantis to put together a rudimentary charcoal filter that had resulted in something more drinkable than their typical rotgut.

"I imagine you're wondering why I didn't have Jon Connington killed out of hand?"

He nodded, then brightened up as a thought occurred to him. "I know a couple of lads who can take care of things, if you wanted him handled more... discreetly."

I shook my head as I slid a glass across the table. "No, not now that he's put himself under my protection. Here, drink this. I don't like to talk philosophy when I'm completely sober."

He looked down at the glass, then back up at me. "I didn't know you'd studied at the Citadel."

"Fuck those dusty cocksuckers. I'm talking about a personal philosophy," I said, picking up my drink and swirling it for a moment before knocking back a slug. "Petyr, if you go through life without thinking about what you're doing there's a real chance that you could wake up one day and realize you've become a giant cunt."

His eyes widened at that, although I couldn't tell if it was in reaction to my sage advice or the salty language. In any event, he followed my lead and took a drink from his glass. He did a manful job hiding his reaction, but he still hadn't quite got the knack of handling hard alcohol.

"Now, Jon Connington... a septon would tell you that there's no need to worry now that he's sworn before the gods not to harm us."

Petyr snorted. "A children's tale."

"A merchant would tell you that a reputation for keeping your word will help you strike deals in the future."

Petyr didn't say anything, but he did look interested as I continued.

"An old veteran would tell you that today's captor could be tomorrow's captive."

I paused to top off our glasses, then leaned back and waved my hand dismissively.

"All of that just goes to what other people think. And sometimes that matters. But when it comes to the important stuff, you're the one that has to live with it. Some things you don't do just because they're wrong."

I wanted to try and educate Petyr, but I was also working through my reasoning for my own benefit. Compared to what I was used to, my new position offered me a lot more opportunities to kill inconvenient people. For the most part it didn't really come up as I wasn't particularly murderous. Jon Connington, though, was the kind of bright spark that had future trouble written all over him. I could justify killing him either in defense of the realm or based on my foreknowledge. In order for a guy like him not to have figured into canon he must have died before the books started, so executing him would in a way just be following the natural order of things. It still didn't sit right with me, though.

As to Petyr, my goals were twofold. First of all, I didn't want him to stab me in the back. I thought I was pretty far along in that goal after giving him a taste of military leadership and military success. Almost as important, though, I wanted to help him turn into the grown up version of the bright kid Brynden remembered rather than the horrible villain I had read about. To that end I really needed to steer him clear of any kind of utilitarianism. Petyr Baelish was going to be able to accomplish a great many things without getting caught, which meant that I didn't want him to be constrained only by cost-benefit calculations.

"More children's stories," Petyr grumbled. The drink must have been getting to him.

"Strong words from somebody who only lives because of a Stark's sense of right and wrong."

Petyr sat up straight and flushed red. I'm not sure he had realized he had been speaking out loud. "Catelyn-"

I held up a hand, cutting him off. "Cat is a sweet girl, but if you think Brandon ever restrained himself on her account, you're a fool. Killing you in that duel would have been pure murder. If there's one thing the Starks have drilled into them it's not to kill anyone who doesn't deserve it."

Petyr remained silent. I sighed and took another drink.

"Think about Connington's nonsense: only a king can judge a king. Only a king can pass judgment on another king, but that's just a practical restraint. Anybody can judge a king," I said, locking my gaze on Petyr's. "The Father gave us all a soul, to know right from wrong. And he gave us all reason, to turn those instincts into rules. You'll be a lot happier with yourself in the end if you make an honest effort to live by those rules instead of trying to rationalize whatever you want to do."

Petyr was silent for a long moment. "What's your rule, then?"

I took a slow sip of my drink while I thought. "My rule... never fuck over somebody who doesn't have it coming."

"How do you know who has it coming?"

"Practice."

He chuckled a bit at that. I held out some hope that he was taking this at least a little bit to heart. "So Connington..."

"What's he done? Fought for Aerys? Half the kingdom did that, and most of them still have their holdings. Dreamed about kicking Robert off the throne?" I said, shaking my head. "That's nothing worth an execution. He hasn't murdered anyone, he's never raped anyone, hells, as far as I know he's never cheated at dice."

"So he doesn't have anything coming."

I nodded. "If that changes, well, it changes. But until then we treat him like any other noble prisoner."

Petyr looked down at his drink in contemplation. Maybe I was getting through to him. Maybe he was just humoring a maudlin old man. It was hard to tell. Worst come to worst, I could just force him to act like a decent human being until it became a habit.

ooOoo