Edits to Jaime and Ned's POV's have been made.
Once again, go check out my tumblr to see some of the 199 Valyrian steel weapons of Westeros.
greedofrage
.
tumblr
.
com
Daenerys
Whatever that tune the beggar from the streets was singing and playing, it was stuck in Daenerys's head ever since. She would hum it every so often especially when she would be reading from the Magister's library.
Viserys had gone off into the city somewhere, probably a tavern or winery to get drunk. He still wasn't pleased with the results of his labors negotiating for an army. That marks the thirteenth person of power to brush him by. She didn't count the ones when they lived with Ser Willem. He did most of the negotiating and would teach Viserys what he could.
Still, there were always more and surely there would be someone who would see that Viserys had great ambition and a righteous duty he needed help to overcome. As long as the Usurper sat on a throne surrounded by treacherous lords, Westeros was not at true peace. Only a dragon could bring unity and true peace to Westeros, and Viserys is the last, or he always says he is.
Daenerys didn't let it bother her though. Instead of reading a history book or a story of poems and fables, she was looking into a record of sellsword companies throughout Essos. There were so many recorded to have been formed and disbanded or defeated in the last few hundred years. There were several dozen currently active in the Free Cities alone and more throughout Essos.
Westeros had no place for Sellswords to reside given how every inch of the land was governed by a lord or lady. There were more places in Essos to run free and call home for however long one had to until war and business beckoned.
There were many companies that had troops of less than a thousand men but all of them were far more expensive than Daenerys thought they would be. Viserys once told her that it is not blood that is spent in war, but gold.
But even still, a sellsword army might just be enough to raise get things truly in motion. The Prince of Qohor judged them for what they didn't have and getting an army, even just a small one would be a start. Viserys had kept trying to appease larger forces like the Golden Company but not the smaller ones.
She closed her book to take a break from all the reading. She had been doing nothing but since dawn. Eustace was off doing some work with the other house guards. She could use a hot bath and a meal right about now. Maybe a few sweets too if Daro would allow it.
There were many servants and slaves hard at work in the atrium of the manse. They were stretching white and pink silken banners from the tops of the green marble pillars that stretched to the ceiling. Tables with silver and gold dishes were being arranged all around the room but would be filled with delicious foods and drink later in the evening just before the Magister's gala would begin. There would be Myrish dancers and a singer from Yi Ti.
Many of the Magister's powerful friends from Norvos and other cities would be attending tonight. It will be the perfect time for Viserys to try and establish good relations and find potential allies.
It was also exciting given how long it has been since Daenerys got to attend such a party. While at feasts, she would be stuck speaking to whoever she sat with but at something as social as this she would be able to meet many others.
'Tis almost evening, I should be getting ready soon.' She found her usual servant, a bronze-skinned girl just a few years older than her. "Dialla, I would have a bath before the festivities. Go draw one for me."
"Yes, princess." her voice was heavy with a Ghiscari accent. Dialla bowed before going off to her duty. It would be some time before the bath was ready. Until then, perhaps a walk in Magister Daro's garden would be pleasant right now.
She walked through the corridors to go to the back doors. She would have to go across the Magister's private study first. But as she walked by the doors, she heard collective laughter coming from inside. She thought he was alone. Maybe someone had come when she was trying to speak with Viserys before he left.
There were not any guards on duty and all the servants were busy in the atrium so no one would notice if she snooped a little.
She gently pressed an ear the ebony door and listened through.
"...Oh gods, that joke never gets old, my friend," Daro said, still laughing a little.
"Well, it's starting to lose its flavor for me, but I'm glad it hasn't for you." This other man in the room had a much lighter voice than Daro. His accent sounded like he was from the Free Cities. "Well then, to business. Though I must say, are such celebrations really needed for something as simple as this?"
Daro chuckled. "You're completely free to experience yourself the relief of doing what must be done. Gods be good, this is why I never had children, well, no, a child would be easier than him. It finally took me this long to understand why Viserys Targaryen lives up to being called the Beggar King."
Daenerys tensed. Was that laughter earlier directed to her brother? And Beggar King? Viserys has never begged once in his whole life that she knew him.
"If I recall right, he treated with the Prince of Pentos?"
"Qohor, the Prince of Spears."
"Mallin? Oh by the shadows of hell, that really must have been it. I mean, how many favors did you call in to get Mallin here?"
"Too many that weren't worth it. I guarantee that if that idiot had a shred of respect to others, Mallin would have had a different answer-"
Daenerys burst through the door with much anger in her. She wouldn't stand to just listen to men slandering her brother any longer.
Daro, who was reclining on a sofa, became startled and spilled some brandy on his fine robes. "Oh cock!" he exclaimed.
"How dare you speak of the King that way." She glared at both men. The other man in the room was similar in appearance to Daro. Big-bellied, dark curly hair and a beard braided with golden trinkets. "My brother has sacrificed everything we have to pursue his campaign against the Usurper. You know nothing of the trials he has faced and the ones the remain ahead of us."
Daro took out a light grey silk handkerchief and began wiping at the stains in his robes with a sour look. "Well, princess, I never imagined you of the two to be the one snooping where you do not belong. But as far as your accusations stand, they do not matter to me. I haven't fought from the gutters to be where I am, I'm not pursuing to be a King. I have the means to, yet I don't. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Well…"
"Because it doesn't matter to me. I live for profit, not ruling a nation. A crown is too troublesome. When I first met your brother he gave promise. But now seeing his constant failures over and over, I'm convinced that he is indeed the beggar King he is. Always asking for things with nothing to give back in return."
"We do not have nothing, we have ambitions and the will to continue to fight for it."
Daro and his friend began laughing. "And where does one ue ambition for currency in this world, my dear? Even if it were, your beggar of a brother would still be broke. Ambition is a desire to strive for a great reward at the cost of difficult labors. Your brother has desire but refuses to act and instead waits for his demands to be given." Daro set his wine glass down and stood from his sofa. "I've had enough of this. Begone with you and dare not to disturb me for the rest of today until the Gala tonight. You won't enjoy what else will come of any defiance."
One of Daro's "freed" slaves had rushed in and took Daenerys by the arm. She was promptly escorted and brought to her room. The slave said nothing as she closed the door behind Daenerys.
She was furious but powerless. She couldn't stand to know that those men were mocking her brother's efforts. Viserys had his moments of anger and lashings, but with the responsibilities he had and the sacrifices he made, he deserved respect of the men who haven't fought like he has.
She was shut in for an hour until three servants and Dialla came and brought her to the baths. She was stripped and cleaned thoroughly. Oddly though, the women didn't add any oils or scents to the water like usual. They simply used soap to scrub and wash her, nothing more.
She was dried and dressed after her bath. She didn't get to wear any of the gowns that she was looking through that morning. The one she wore was a simple yellow that hung from her shoulders without sleeves and with a pink silk sash tied around her waist.
As her sandals were being laced on her feet, Viserys entered without any announcement of himself. He was dressed in fine black wool and leather boots.
"Danerys," He said with a pleasant tone. "Wonderful, absolutely wonderful." He was inspecting her from head to toe. "You will catch the eyes of many tonight." he softly stroked Dany from her cheek to her collar. It almost made her shudder.
Once she was ready, she walked with her arm linked with Viserys. The atrium was already full of many of Daro's guests. Everyone wore such brightly colored dresses, and there was one woman who had a deep violet dress that exposed her right breast openly.
Viserys was grinning proudly as if the people were a feast laid out before him. No doubt many persons of power were here that he hoped to sway to his cause. But something didn't feel right. As many people turned to look their way, many faces began hiding and suppressing laughter.
Daro made way to the front of his guest. "And here they are, the Last Targaryens, Viserys and Daenerys." He made his way to Viserys' side. "I remember the last time we all gathered and I told you of my plan to host the rightful King of Westeros, many called me a fool and thought it was a joke!" His guests laughed with him but Viserys' lips twitched, almost making an angry frown. "Why, Caulorux even made a bet with… oh gods, which one of you was it?"
Several people raised their hands but everyone kept their smiling faces that made Daenerys worried.
"Well, I regret to admit defeat, my friends." Many applauded Daro.
Viserys leaned over to the magister. "What is going on?" He muttered.
Daro didn't even turn to look at Viserys, he simply continued talking. "And now, for the main event tonight, our celebrations of the departure of the Beggar King and his petty princess."
'Oh no.' Daenerys tried to hold onto Viserys when Daro made his intentions clear but her brother slipped his arm out of her grasp and grabbed Daro by the collar, pushing the fat magister against a wall.
"You cunt! How dare you-" A sharp spearhead was brought to Viserys' neck and it was so close from kissing his skin.
"You're antics and tantrums have entertained and embarrassed me for too long, boy. Now take your sister and get out."
"I am the dragon!" Viserys hissed. "You do not command me."
Daro wore a smug smirk on his face. "No, but I command the spear that will kill you if you do not heed my words, boy."
Viserys was red with anger, baring his teeth like a vicious animal. After staring down the magister for too long, another one of Daro's guards butted his spear into Viserys.
Dany nearly shrieked and pulled her brother to his feet. He was alright, but another guard had come between him and Daro.
"Magister, please!" Daenerys begged.
"Get them out." Daro ordered just as a cup of wine was brought to him. He smirked as he sipped the sweet drink and watched his men force Daenerys and Viserys out.
Daro and his many guests were snickering and laughing as they were forced out of the manse. "I would wish you luck in your campaign, but I don't think you could even afford that." They all laughed greatly as the doors were shut on them. Three of Daro's household guards stood ready with their spears gripped tightly.
"Leave now," One of the men said.
Viserys sneered at them. "How dare you think to give me a command! I am a King!"
The three guards lowered their spears and firmly pointed them at Viserys and Daenerys. "Leave!" The leader said firmly.
"What about our things?" Daenerys pleaded. The last of their treasures, their mother's crown included, were still in the manse. "Please, just let us get our possessio-" One of the house guards thrusted the butt of his spear into her stomach. She cried out and felt the wind knocked out of her.
Viserys knelt to her side as she tried to find her breath. The pain lingered as she finally was able to breath in.
"That's your only warning… who the fuck are you?" The guards shifted their gazes from Viserys and Daenerys to behind them.
With welling tears partially blurring her sight, Daenerys looked behind with her brother and saw a lone man with a longsword drawn. This man was taller than most by a little, and despite his outward appearance, he stood gallantly. Hard worn clothes on a man with warm, calming features. His gray cloak was held at his shoulder by a clasp of three silver swords that formed a triangle from tip to pommel. Long auburn hair and gentle indigo eyes, a chiseled jaw freshly shaved, this man looked everything that Daenerys pictures when she imagined what a noble knight looked like in a story.
"How dare you." The man spoke and pointed his sword at the guard that struck Daenerys. "You will die first." He dashed forward and in a sheer instance cut through the guards spears and impaled him with his sword. The other two guards were too slow to react and before they could defend themselves this man sliced his sword across the exposed neck of one and them thrusted the tip into the last guard's shoulder.
The last remaining guard screamed out and dropped his spear as he fell to his knees. The man twisted his blade still in the wound to earn another loud scream. "They asked for their things. You and I are going to go get them."
"Fu-" Before the guard could insult the man, the blade was shoved deeper and pierced through the other side of the guard's shoulder. "Alright!" He screamed. "Just take it out! Take it out!"
"Ask me nicely."
"Please! Take it out please!" The guard screamed.
The man obliged and pulled his sword out of the guard's shoulder. As blood spilled, the man turned to Daenerys and Viserys and immediately fell to one knee. "Your graces, King Viserys and Princess Daenerys, I offer a thousand apologies for years of tardiness not being at your side to protect you. I am at your service." He looked back to the bleeding guard struggling to get up. "I will just be moment and have what is yours returned to you." He walked to the bleeding guard and grabbed him hard where the stab wound was.
As the guard screamed and yelled on their way to the manse, Daenerys looked up to her brother. "He looks like he's from our home." Daenerys said.
"Yes… I feel like I've seen him before. Maybe at court, but I hardly remember any of the faces I've seen." They both flinched when a crash came from inside the manse followed by a collective scream. For a man who looks as gentle as he did, he was certainly ruthless when it came to a fight, something that put a smile on Viserys.
Minutes later, the man returned with a small satchel in hand, sword resting in its scabbard, and a small amount of blood splattered on his left cheek. When he returned to the Targaryens, he knelt down on one knee and opened the satchel. "Is this everything you had, your grace?" he asked.
Viserys looked through it, ignoring everything and found the box that had their mother's crown. He opened it and sighed in relief when he saw it still there. He looked to the man. "Who are you?"
"I'm Ser Dillion, one of the few that refused to bend the knee to a false king and managed to escape unjust judgement. I served under your father at court and fought against the Usurper's forces. I've been searching for you two for years now. Prince Viserys, You are indeed the image of a King, and Daenerys… you look just like the Queen." He smiled at Dany and it made her feel safe. "I received a favor from the Prince of Qohor. It looks like I came at the right moment." He rose up and looked straight to Daenerys. "Are you alright, my princess?"
"Y- yes." Daenerys found herself almost starstruck by Ser Dillion. "I'm glad you came."
"Hold it," Viserys put an arm between her and Ser Dillion. "We've come across shit like you before. You use sweet words and good intentions but your just another thief."
"If I were a thief, I would have done already, your grace. Your both unarmed, at the edge of helpless, and have no one else to protect you."
"Can you prove it?" Daenerys asked.
"I have only my word and oath, princess."
"You are just a gutter knight." Viserys said. "What can you offer us?"
"Shelter, protection, guidance, and allies. There are others such as I that wish to return home at the side of the rightful King."
"How many?" Viserys asked with eagerness.
"Only a handful, your grace. Four to be exact."
"Four? You think four men will make a difference in my campaign for the throne?" Viserys seethed.
Daenerys tugged on her brother's sleeve. "It's better than having none at all." She was met with a backhanded slap to her face. It had enough force that she fell to her knees.
"You haven't a fucking say inthis! You upset Daro, didn't you? You've woken the dragon!" He raised his hand to slap her again but he was grabbed by Ser Dillion and held firmly.
"You really think it wise to waste time beating your sister? Every moment you do, that's a longer time away from the throne."
Viserys jerked his handed free and rubbed where he was grabbed as if he was injured in some way. "If you claim to be loyal, then you will never do that again." He grabbed Daenerys and pulled her from the ground. "Whether or not you and your band of pisswater men are worthy is mine to decide."
Ser Dillion bowed his head. "Very well. I do not doubt those that await to meet you will disappoint, your grace." He offered an arm to Daenerys. "Would you honor me, princess?"
Daenerys didn't mean to go to him so quickly, her body simply moved instinctively for someone other than her brother. She gave him half a nervous nod and he smiled warmly back at her. The way he did it almost made the sting in her cheek disappear
"You needn't worry, princess. Everything will be alright."
Ned
The Men of the Mountains poured into the Great Hall and Ned was glad to see them here today. To say they were dressed in fine clothes would be false, but they still wore their finest. Furs cloaks of game they hunted themselves, wool clothes perfect for the cold up high. Mikken Harclay was the only one to carry a weapon at his side given that he was the only chieftain to own a sword, especially one made of Valyrian Steel.
Hugo Wull extended his arms out when he approached him. "Ned!" The great burley chief shared a brotherly embrace with Ned who was all too glad to see. Hugo had been in correspondence with Ned about the issue and was in full support of mining the mountains. The other chiefs would need great convincing, however.
"Glad you made it." Ned greeted.
"Glad to have an excuse to warm my ass in this place." He heaved a great laugh with Ned before releasing him. Ned shared greetings with the other chiefs and shared pleasantries.
"Thank you all for coming so quickly," Ned told them.
"Bet the Liddle's wife would say different." Torghen Flint jested, earning an uproar of laughter from many except the Liddle. Torren Liddle simply elbowed Torghen in the stomach and made for a seat at the table. The other Mountain lords did the same as the commotion died down.
"The Ned, you must tell us," The Harclay started. "How can you stand to have not one but two of Tywin's fuckin' cubs under your roof and sharing your hospitalities? They have no place here or anywhere in the North."
"Not true," Tim Knott argued. "The only place the Kingslayer is welcome is the Wall where he belongs."
"My lords," Ned said with a firm voice. "I welcome you all into my home, but I will not have you dishonor those that are my guests, regardless of reputation."
There was disgruntled silence that followed but nevertheless they obeyed. "The princess is quite the beauty though. A fine woman she'll be for your son when they wed."
At this time, Tyrion Lannister arrived with one of his men carrying his things. Papers, quills, inks, and more. "Apologies for my tardiness, my lords. I underestimated the potency of Northern ale and have come to regret my intake last night while at the same time find myself ashamed I could not withstand more. I found myself waking up in a brothel with more clothes on than I remember starting with." He said with a pleasant tone.
Hugo began laughing and was the only one. "This is Tywin's imp? He's more funny than I thought he'd be."
"He doesn't have lizard scales or a tail like the rumors say," Mikken said. He had his arm resting on the guard of his sword, almost expecting that Tyrion was a monster to be fought off if needed. The sword was his family's and the only Valyrian steel weapon of the Mountain Clans, Winter Moon. The blade itself had more worth than every Clan combined.
Tyrion simply smirked as he sat down. "I find wise to not believe in rumors, my lords. Or are the ones about your people true? You have toes of stone, make love to trees? Well, I imagine the altitude may disorient you to perform the latter if beer is involved."
Hugo laughed heavily at such a remark while Mikken simply sat up with a sneer. "You might be the only Lannister I'll enjoy." Hugo leaned over his seat and picked up a box he had. He dropped it on the table and slid it forward. "This is your father's gold. The death of my people is not something that can be bought, dwarf."
"It was not meant as an insult, my lord."
"We're not lords," Mikken commented. "Heads are addressed by the name of his House."
"Well then, my… Wull?" Tyrion asked.
"The Wull." Hugo corrected.
"Well then, the Wull, I apologize on behalf of my father. He was not trying to buy justice or compensate for it, only to give something back as a gesture of goodwill. While details such as housing and limbs of stone are rumors, there are some things I made sure to learn before my arrival." Lord Tyrion sat back, getting comfortable in his seat. He shifted his gaze to Ned. "Shall we proceed with business, my lords?"
"Fuck business." Torren Liddle blurted. "We know Tywin's after every fuckin' pound of dirt under our feet now that his grandaughter in the North. He thinks he has a right to our lands before our Lord's son is even married."
Brandon Norrey nodded in agreement. "He sends hundreds of men a year to take the black but they all still wear his colors. Looks more like an invasion instead to me. You southern pricks toss pennies to Wall while it's we in the North that have to carry the Wall on our shoulders."
Tyrion finally got a word in. "Such accusations. I thought by now we all would have learned not to hold onto the likes of rumors and assumptions."
Ned waved his lords off. "I too have been curious of why Tywin Lannister would be sending men to the Wall. I doubt it's to uphold the peace of the realms and is generous spirit." His suspicions were great because of the leads indicating it was House Lannister that sent the knife meant to kill Robert but that took Jon's life instead.
"If that were the case, my lord, then I would have been named Lord of Casterly Rock years ago. My lord father does not do anything without our family's best interest in mind. Him sending men to Wall is for the benefit of Princess Myrcella." Tyrion gave pause to let the words sink in so curiosity for more could arise. "My father's taken much interest in the North since Myrcella's betrothal was first conceived. When reports of increased Wildlings raids and findings of them as far as the Reach had become clear, he made plans to take no chance of risking Myrcella's safety. I wouldn't doubt that if one saw Myrcella they wouldn't hesitate to do everything they possibly could to get their hands on her, whether through brutal tactics or cunning wits like Bael the Bard. Tell me, Lord Stark, since the increase of men in service, have the number of raids reduced in recent years?"
Ned nodded. "Aye, that is true. However the costs of supporting that many men at the Wall are becoming greater with every man sent. I've confirmed with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon that the Southern kingdoms have been lacking in financial support when compared to the North."
"And is that not one of the reasons why I am here today? To discuss such exchanges and find gain rather than loss? My father sends five gold dragons with every man that takes the black." Tyrion looked over to the Norrey. "Indeed, they do not shed their colors because it is cheaper not to. Lannister armor and weapons are the finest made in the Seven kingdoms. If his granddaughter were not to be the Lady of the North, he would be stripping his men naked before sending them away. Now, my lords, if all we are to do is continue on with such bickering, then do so after I depart so I do not waste my time."
Before his men could speak in retaliation, Ned raised a hand and silenced them. "I offer my apologies, Lord Tyrion. Please tell us your Lord fathers proposition."
Tyrion gave a nod to Ned as a form of thanks. "That town outside Winterfell is quite lacking in populace, Lord Stark. At least in the Summer but in Winter, it's filled to the brim, am I wrong?"
"You are correct," Ned said. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his wrapped hands.
"Winters are especially harsh here, much more so in regions such as the Mountains." Tyrion switched his gaze back to the chieftains. "When winter comes, you send the young to live here to avoid the terrors of the cold and ice. Even still, there are those that cannot withstand. The North loses many to winter every season. Tell me, Lord Stark, do you keep a record of such things?"
"No, but I have reports told to me and I will never forget." Just as his father would do. When he was a boy, the worst winter took the lives of over a thousand people across the kingdom.
"Not everyone is lucky to have a fire or a roof and walls to keep them warm. And these unfavorable circumstances build up and within a hundred years the North will lose tens of thousands not to war but weather." He gestured to the box of gold. "This small portion itself could feed a hundred over the course of three years or three hundred for a year. With the wealth beneath the mountains, many more lives can have what those before did not. A chance to survive and live better. Crops are difficult to grow without glass gardens or summers free of snow and harvest is just as costly."
"Aye," Ned agreed. "My great-grandfather Edwyle almost emptied the North's coffers to feed his people." He straightened himself in his seat. "I will not swerve from the truth, if the North had the gold then our people would flourish more, even in winter." His eyes narrowed at Tyrion. "But your father seems to think that just because he found out that he has a right to it."
"Not entirely, my lord. If he truly believed that, he would have sent his armies to claim it instead of his son to negotiate business. As his granddaughter is to become the future lady of Winterfell and the North, he wishes to take the chance to establish good relations between our houses. Such a venture as this is a perfect place to start."
"Then what is it he is offering, and what is he asking for it?"
Tyrion snapped his fingers and his servant brought forth many rolled up papers and scrolls. He gave one specific to his lords and Tyrion unrolled it on the table. "My father, Lord Tywin Lannister, is offering his best miners to begin work on digging and harvesting the minerals that are beneath the earth, builders to create proper roads and if needs be construct a town or village that his men may find proper rest and shelter in, ships to transport the gold to Lannisport where it will be refined, crafted, and sold for the highest reasonable price."
Ned kept a square face. "So much work done on his end for the wealth under my lands. What is he asking?"
"He's not asking, he requires sixty-five perecent go to House Lannister and the remaining thirty-five shall come back to House Stark. We'll bear all the costs of construction, shipping, providing for the men, etcetera. It will be nothing but complete profits returned to you."
Mathematically and logically, that was a rather fair asking price. Half of it would most likely be spent on all the services being done to harvest the gold and other ores. But it was still too much in Tywin's favor. "Tywin is quite keen to have as many of his own men doing the work."
"The Westerlands has the finest and hardest of workers in the Seven Kingdoms. If we begin now, we could be seeing profits in two years."
"I believe you, but I would see to it that my people have a share in the opportunities on my lands. We can provide our own miners and work alongside your father's men. We have ships of our own and I'm certain the Lannister Fleet is still rebuilding from the war."
"You are perceptive, my lord. Rebuilding the Navy is proving to be costly. With this venture, the demands for more ships to transport and trade will be needed providing more work for my people as well."
"Tell me this, my lord."
"Tyrion. Let us forsake formalities for the hour. I believe a wise man once said that if such things were left out of conversation then we will all get twice as much done by the time we are bones in the dirt."
The Wull laughed again, so much that he slapped his leg hard. Once he calmed down, Ned resumed. "Very well, Tyrion. Your father is hard pressed on a joint deal rather than something simpler. Why should I simply not mine the gold and sell it to him to do what he pleases?"
Tyrion smirked and straightened himself in his seat. "Because of two reasons, my lord. First, independently, you will not make even half as much as you would with my father's help. Not only is his resources being offered to you, but his connections and his own skills in the trade as well. My father has established relations with the finest of merchants all around the world and what he has to offer he will make sure they will buy at the highest price. It is true, the Westerlands will be taking the larger sum of what is earned, but what the North receives will be ten times what it makes annually without any risk. You will have funds for a great many things much needed. Glass houses for crops in the winter, a new navy," Tyrion cocked his head to the Mountain Men, "proper housing and shelter for those without when the real winter sets in."
"And the second?" Ned asked.
"The second reason is rather straight forward. Tell me, do you know where exactly these potential mines are located?" Tyrion asked.
Ned suddenly felt like a fool that was played. In all this fuss over the mountains, he knew or learned where these riches were. He looked to his men of the mountains but none of them had any answer. "No."
"Usually in a deal such as this, there is something called a finder's fee. My Father is willing to overlook such a detail in hopes of better forming a good relation with House Stark and the North. Of course, you know that there is gold in those vast mountains now, you could try looking for it yourself, but do you know where to begin?"
Ned sat back in his seat, pondering the best option. Damn these Lannisters. Whenever it came to money they always seemed to get the upper hand. He looked to his men. "What say you all in this matter?"
The Norrey shook his head. "Nay. I don't want more Westermen defiling my lands and my people as the have the Wull's. We have persevered for thousands of years without the riches and will continue to do so for thousands more."
The Wull waved the Norrey off. "Fuck that. My people shiver at the peak of summer as do I. I say yay. It's about time we take advantage of opportunities." All but the Liddle and the Norrey nodded in agreement. "But you are our lord, Ned. We follow and trust your decision."
Ned looked back to Tyrion. "Your fathers terms are a great offer but ask too much. These are my terms. Your father's miners will be joined with Northmen to mine the minerals of the mountains. I will send word to Lords Manderly, Mormont, and Tallhart to provide ships and workers to assist in transport and construction of a residence for the miners. As such, I will expect more of the profits. The North will bear the majority of burdens to begin. The gold and emeralds mined will go to the Westerlands for trade, crafting, etcetera. But the copper and iron will go to the North for refinement, craft, trade, etcetera." Ned had been thinking on Jaime's words before their duel. Boiled leather brigandines were warm and tough but plate steel would serve his men better. His men deserved better quality for wars against men and winter and the prices of steel were growing. But now that they had access to their own source, the costs would stay the same, maybe more, to manufacture armor and weapons, but there would be profits in the end of it.
"Hm, I see you want to have some independence in this. I can respect that but I would also disadvise it." Tyrion said. "My father knows some of the finest smiths in King's Landing that supply his soldiers with the best quality of armor. If you were to send the Iron with the gold, he would surely-"
"I've seen Lannister armor. It is some of the finest made and quite pretty. I'd say there's more decorations than then there is plate. We have no need of so much of that, a little is desired but not as much as what your father has done for his soldiers." So much that was unneeded was put into the making of Westermen armor. Etchings, inlays, guilding steel with gold or brass. The most his men had in that matter where the shields bearing the Stark sigil they carried. "The North will keep the iron and manufacture it ourselves."
Tyrion cleared his throat. "I see you are one to be unmoved by your choice. May I suggest a wager of sorts?"
"I haven't had much luck with wagers involving Lannisters as of late." Ned replied. "But you've already begun, so to speak."
"While it is indeed true that my father gives his men decorative armor, it is still the finest. I wage that a set of my father's finest made armor can beat the finest made in the North. If I am wrong and the North truly has the finer set, then I shall inform my father to look north for armerors instead of the capitol. But If I am a man true to my belief and win, instead of all the iron going with the gold, only half shall."
"Half?"
"I believe Northerners are too stubborn to be beaten and give up afterwards. Surely your best smiths will seek to improve the craft. I wouldn't want to deprive them of the materials."
Ned sat back in his seat and scratched at the chin of his beard. It didn't sound half a bad idea. It would give a chance to truly compare the quality of northern goods to southern. If the North was indeed lacking in fine made armor then it would be good to seek ways to improve. "Very well. I'll speak with my armorer and arrange the details."
"And I shall send a raven to my father to do the same, my lord. So for now," he snapped his fingers to his servant and blank parchment was brought forth, "I don't expect us to have this wrapped up in a single afternoon, my lord. But for what we've discussed, are we in agreement?"
Ned took a look at how his men were acting during all this. It looked like the Liddle had a changed expression, one of neutrality, but the Norrey remained in denial about this. Obviously, the finer details would have to be discussed later on. This would all be rather vague if written on a contract agreement. But for now, the progress they achieved was a start. He would have to figure out how to make the terms in his and the North's favor.
Still, he had to be cautious about every detail. Once Bronn reports from the Iron Islands, hopefully he will have something of worth that either confirm the trail that leads to the Lannisters responsible for the plot against Robert or reveal it to be a false trail. For the time being, he would have to risk letting lions into the wolf's den.
"Aye."
Jaime
Today was dull just as the rest were. The same damn blue skies and the same damn chilling breezes. It didn't matter that Jaime got a new cloak despite his change of mind, he hated the damn North.
He didn't show it though. Not while Myrcella had to learn to love the place. She was doing much better adapting to the living conditions than he was. She was happy with her new friends, she was taking a liking to Robb Stark, and she liked the atmosphere of Winterfell. As long as she was smiling, that was enough for him.
He watched her silently playing some games with the other girls. At first they were looking over the battlements of the castle to guess the purpose of travelers going to and from Wintertown to Winterfell or elsewhere. Now they were playing some game that involved one girl blindfolded as she tried to catch the other children around them.
There was laughter and smiles, but none of it from Jaime. He simply stood dutifully in his gilded armor and white cloak with a sullen mood. Eddard Stark's words still held a grip over his thoughts and he couldn't shake them, he could only ignore them since the bastard clearly had too much honor to listen or care for his reasons.
He didn't mean to forget to watch over Elia and the children, he was just so overwhelmed with what he did. He was consumed with what his surviving brothers would say to him when they saw he had killed the King they all swore to protect. Ser Barristen Selmy had none, he didn't have the right to angry given his bending the knee to Robert Baratheon. But he still looked at Jaime with shame. A man and a true knight he admired ever since he was old enough to admire knights had a room of disgust for him.
"Uncle!" Myrcella called out.
"Yes?"
"Come have a turn! See if you can catch pretty maidens as good as you can fight!" She giggled with the other girls.
Jaime shook his head. "I am your guard, not your playmate."
Myrcella simply shrugged him off and let one of the younger girls, one of the Pooles, have a turn. However, she didn't partake in running away from the little toddler, instead she came to his side.
"Are you still angry at Lord Stark?"
"No." Jaime replied without even looking at her. He just continued to watch the other girls play.
"You do not appear to be so."
"Princess, my matters are mine to handle and deal with. I would ask that you do not meddle in them more than you already have."
"Hmm… will you walk with me?"
"It is my duty to go where you go, princess." He rested his left hand on the hilt of his golden sword and followed alongside Myrcella.
"I just don't understand why he can't be grateful."
"As I've said, princess, do not meddle-"
"I'll do as I please, I'm the princess." She almost scowled at him. "Why don't want to talk about it?"
"It's not my duty to talk, only to guard and protect you."
Myrcella sighed. "I just don't understand why Lord Stark or anyone is grateful."
"It's because I'm a Lannister. They don't like Lannisters and never will. That's the way of things."
Myrcella shook her head. "I don't think that's true. I saw some of Lord Stark's men laughing last night with Uncle Tyrion. They like him."
"Tyrion didn't stab his King in the back."
Myrcella huffed a breath as if in defeat after constantly trying and failing to understand. She ran in front of Jaime and faced him. "Maybe you should start being more like Uncle Tyrion instead of… this." She gestured with both her hands to him.
Jaime nearly chuckled. "Maybe one day, princess." he found himself hugged by her. "What's this now?"
"I feel like you really need one, uncle." She tightened her grip and Jaime gave her a light pat on the back. He took a quick glance around and noticed many people watching. "I want you to be happy here too."
He cleared his throat. "That's enough now."
"Just a little more." Myrcella argued.
Jaime felt embarrassed, but also a bit angry. Not angry at Myrcella but himself. Angry that he couldn't return her affection without somebody asking why. 'The Kingslayer showing love? Something evil is amiss if things have come to that.'
"Alright, that's alright, Myrcella."
She finally let him go but held onto his hand as they resumed walking. "Uncle Tyrion is going to ask Lord Stark for a tour of the mountains. He wants me to go too. After that, we're going to see the Wall, and maybe even go beyond, and after that sail from Eastwatch by the Sea to White Harbor."
"Well then, I'll definitely have to come. I'll see if I've been missing out on the adventures of the Night's Watch since remaining a White Cloak." He didn't spare a second thought for the order, even if his father was sending men to make something of what it once was.
"Mmm, I don't think black suits you. You fit your white cloak best out of all the Kingsguard."
"Even Ser Barristan?" Jaime asked.
"I saw him trip over his once. He nearly fell flat on his face."
That finally got a laugh from Jaime. He noticed that over by the stables, Domeric Bolton was saddling his horse. "Have you asked Robb Stark to ride with you yet?"
"Um… I was hoping you could show me first. I'd rather know how to ride a horse first when I go with Robb."
"That, I will not refuse, princess." He promised. "But first, you're going to need something."
"What's that?"
"Riding breeches. Your mother would take my head if anything happened to your dresses. I can't imagine what she'll do when she finds out your riding at all." he nearly shook in his boots at the thought. "Go on and find the seamstress and have her make you a pair. We can start when your dressed for the occasion."
Myrcella squeezed his hand softly and smiled warmly at him. Gods, she was so beautiful and sweet. He hoped nothing would take that away from her as long as possible. He knew the troubles of the world would fall on her once she was a woman grown, but he believed that wouldn't even stop her from smiling like this. He watched pleasantly as she ran off back to her friends. Was she going to invite them to do the same? They might if she did. After all, a princess's 'ladies in waiting' did not want to disappoint her.
The smallest of smiles grew on Jaime's face. He hated the North, but as long as Myrcella was happy here then that was enough for him. Maybe he should start to write for Cersei. If she heard from him that their daughter was happy then maybe she would be too.
He heard a commotion happen over by the stables. One of the coursers was growing wild being close in the presence of Myrcella's mare. The giant simpleton was attempting to subue to horse but he was too cowardly to get any closer. The oaf kept shouting his name over and over, it was getting annoying.
Jaime thought to find a good spot to watch the show. One of these Northern idiots would probably do something stupid and get hurt, it would be ammusing.
'Maybe you should be more like Uncle Tyrion instead of… this.'
Dammit all, why did she have to care as she did. Always concerned with others and always wanting them to smile as she did.
He grunted angrily at himself as he pressed onward to the stables. A few Northmen were crowding around the courser, trying to subdue it the wrong way. All of them brutes more than men.
He slipped his way past them with a single hand up to the horse and without fear. "Easy now," He spoke with calm words and made sure that the eyes of the horse were locked with his. "Easy," he clapped his hands a single time, getting the horse to stay fixed on him. The beast reared and almost kicked him but Jaime didn't even flinch. He lowered his head as if a king were in his presence and showed respect. "Easy now… easy." He clapped again courser began to move lighter than before, neighing once. Jaime extended his hand and managed to brushed his fingers over the snout. "Easy… there you go." The Horse thrashed his head about but began resting himself. Jaime stepped forward and brushed a hand down the courser's neck with one hand and over the snout with the other. "There you go, wonderful."
"Kingslayer," Someone whispered.
Jaime's jaw tightened when he looked to who said his name. The ass was holding a bit and rope out to him. Jaime slowly took each and strapped the bit into the courser's mouth. Rope tied and horse calmed, Jaime guided it away from the stables.
"Ser Jaime." Of course Ned Stark had to be there. "I've never seen anyone calm a horse that well, especially mine."
"Ah, so this is one of yours." He offered the rope to Ned who kindly took it. "Might want to find a private stable for the princess's horse. Tulip isn't a broodmare and won't bode wel surrounded by tough men in heat."
"Right you are. Hodor, see to it that Tulip is moved. Jory, take Oaken for a ride." The young captain of the guard swiftly took the courser from his lord and everyone around dispersed.
Instead of gratitude for helping, the Northerners still showed that fucking look in their eyes that despised Jaime. He made to leave himself, but Ned Stark's hand on his spaulder stopped him. "Is there something you need, Stark?"
"A few words, Ser." Stark led Jaime out of the courtyards to the southern walls. They climbed the steps to the top of the battlements and he sent the guards on shift there away for now.
Ned stopped just before the corridor underneath a guard tower. He turned and faced Jaime. "I've had much time to think things over. Outside opinions of you are cold whenever it isn't from someone close to you."
"I think it's the same for everybody." Jaime said as if it were the obvious thing. 'Anyone who isn't one of us is the enemy.' His sister's words rang in his head so clearly.
Ned cleared his throat. "Would you be willing to tell me something?"
"At what cost? My father always liked to say a Lannister never gives without getting in return." He stifled a laugh but felt hardly in the mood to torment the bastard in front of him. "If only a red cloak was stricken on my shoulders instead of a white."
The was a sullen pause as the men stared at each other irritably. Was Stark not the mood? If Jaime had to put up with the despise he must face in the North then surely the Warden could put up with a few japes.
"You're niece mentioned that you saved half a million people when you stabbed the Mad King in the back."
Jaime's pompous mask broke. 'Dammit, why did she have to mention that?' Myrcella was sweet to try and fight for his honor despite there being none, but she needed to learn not to stick her nose in matters that do not concern her. "An exaggeration is all."
"I don't believe you." Stark argued.
Jaime wore his mask again and cokced his head as a form of shrugg. "If you want some answers you think exists, beat me in a fight."
"I have no time for constant squabbles with you and a sword."
"As opposed to having time for hunts while your sick children get stabbed to death?" Jaime tested.
The first thing he saw was the rage on Ned Stark's face before the fist came out of nowhere on hit hard on the left of his jaw. He felt himself bite his cheek and the taste of blood followed as he was forced to his knees. He was quickly picked up and shoved hard against the battlements. Ned Stark forced him halfway over the side, one push and Jaime would go tumbling to the ground.
"If you ever," Ned growled like a bear instead of a wolf, "mention my son's death like that, I will take off your hands with one swing of Ice."
Jaime grunted as he was pressed down, forcing him into a position that didn't allow him to reach his dagger. He spat the blood in his mouth to the side and almost grinned. He always thought that Ned Stark disregarded his 'son' but he still had much guilt weighing on him just as Jaime did for the other Targaryen children. Ned being a Stark though made him far easier to anger and lash out. He wondered if his father would retaliate if word got out to him. "And the Quiet Wolf shows his teeth."
Ned Stark breathed steadily before releasing his grip and pulling Jaime up. He shook his head and walked away.
"I thought Northerners were too stubborn to give up so easily." Jaime said as he wiped the blood on his lips on his glove.
Ned stopped and turned back on his heel. "I thought I could find an ounce of respect to give you, Kingslayer. I thought wrong-"
"Wildfire." That was all Jaime said before rubbing his hand over where Ned Stark punched him. Damn, it stung harder than the flat of Oswell's blade in practice. "Aerys always loved what his pyromancers shit out in their laboratories." At this point, he captured Stark's attention again but the anger remained. "So much that he had it put underneath the city everywhere he could. Everyone simply thought he wanted to be amused every time he kept shouting those fucking words. Burn them, burn them all." He looked Stark dead in the eye. "No one figured his final words were his last command when I killed him. Burn them, burn them all." The anger vanished and was replaced with dread. "I will not let Tywin fucking Lannister take my city. Bring me your father's head, boy, and then we shall burn them, burn them all. Did you think I truly took pleasure in what I saw done that day? That I did it for the glory and pride of my father? You think the smile on my face when you saw me was a proud one? It was all a mask to hide the fear. Fear of my sworn brothers, fear of people, fear of what was to come."
The Lord of Winterfell was back to what he is, a Quiet Wolf. He said no words for he had none. There was nothing but shock and confusion stricken about him. "I… I don't believe you. I can't."
"Of course not. Something like like is out of my capacity and morality to do. A Lannister doesn't do anything without asking the price, don't we?"
"I… I…" The fool stuttered. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't, nobody did because nobody asked."
"Then why didn't you say a damn thing? Why didn't you explain yourself? Cleared your name?"
Jaime let out a humorless laugh. "Because of you. Because the Honorable Ned Stark saw me and declared me Man without honor, and who listens to anyone without? Who needs to hear the excuses of why a Kingslayer broke his vows?" he paused, turning to look Ned right in the eye. "Tell me, Lord Stark, what right does the wolf have to judge the lion?"
Ned said nothing. He just stared back solemnly.
Shaking his head, Jaime turned and looked back over the railing, staring down at all the Northerners milling about in the castle courtyard. "Everyone only saw the crime and wanted punishment for the traitor that saved their fucking lives! Robert was the only one willing to give me a damn thing for what I did."
"What do you mean?"
Jaime leaned his elbows on the stone. "My father spoke with Robert and arranged for my white cloak to be removed. I could have had Casterly Rock back, my place as heir, the power of a Lannister, all of it." He looked back to Ned with anger. "Instead, I chose to keep my cloak and forsake my father's desires. Because I failed my friend and didn't protect his family. Because I'm an Oathbreaker, a Man Without Honor. The Kingslayer." He pulled himself to stand straight and turned on his heel, leaving the Honorable Ned Stark. He said too much than he needed.
Ned Stark looked out to his lands. "You were right." This time, it was him who stopped Jaime with words.
Jaime looked at him.
"I didn't win that fight against Ser Arthur. I lost. It was a dagger in the back that defeated him."
Jaime felt his chest tighten for an instance. Arthur Dayne, the greatest knight to ever live was defeated by a knife in the back. Arthur didn't deserve that kind of fate. And yet, hearing that brought a calmness about him. "I suppose you felt wrong about that, given the dishonor in it."
"I wanted my sister back and he stood in my way. Had I been the one with the dagger instead of the sword, I would have done it too. But I'll never forget that look in his eyes. He wasn't angry or betrayed. He did his duty to the last." Ned hung his head down, as if ashamed.
Was that statement meant to remind Jaime that he did not? "He is loyal man and a true knight then. I thought I could be that once Rhaegar was crowned." He turned back and slowly stood next to Ned Stark. "My word's about your late son, I apologize for them, my Lord Stark."
"And I for your jaw, and… my judgement. I was taught that if I had to choose honor or duty, I should do whatever was right."
"Of course you would. Otherwise you never would have brought your bastard son into your home."
Ned looked up to Jaime. "If I had been the one with the sword and white cloak… I would have done what you did. You are an arse, Jaime, but you are a good man too."
Jaime found himself actually laughing with lord Stark for once. It might be the only time he did. But this other feeling he had, it was like their was a weight being lifted off his shoulders. He didn't know what it was, only that it made him better. "If I were a good man, I would've killed Aerys the first time I laid eyes on the cunt. If Arthur or any of those men I called brothers were good men they would have been the ones to forsake oath and honor. Instead we stood and watched and listened. Burn them, burn them all."
"Trust is both a difficult and easy thing to break. For them, they would die to make sure that trust was intact." Both Ned and Jaime shared a look. "Can I find trust in you, ser?"
"In what regard?"
"What assurance can you give me that you will not change my son from becoming the man he is?" Ned asked.
Jaime stared at the man he just exchanged angry words with. He wondered why on earth Ned Stark was offering him this chance now. What was he hoping to achieve by this? "Only my word on my honor even though I am without any."
Ned looked at him long and fiercely. "Then you have my consent to take my son as your squire, Ser Jaime."
Edit: the Dillion is Rhaegar thing was a joke to the people angry about his introduction in ch 7