A column of Northmen marched up Aegon's High Hill, their mermen banners raised high and drum-beats swift. A dozen knights rode in front of the formation, their polished armour shimmering under the afternoon sun. Behind them marched the squires and men-at-arms, followed by ranks of spearmen.
Even more columns were assembling at the docks, Arya knew. From the heights of the Red Keep's towers, Manderly's galleys looked like the toy ships she used to play with Bran.
A lone tear dripped from her eye. Then another. And another.
"What's up?" Karl asked.
Arya rubbed at the tears with her sleeve. "Nothing." Though Karl lost his mother too, his sister was still alive, and now he had a little cousin too. He wouldn't understand.
"You miss your brothers?" Karl fell silent for a moment. "You know I'm sorry they died. And I don't know how to make you feel better. But I know how to make the people who killed them a lot, lot worse."
"I have no doubt of that," a voice rang behind the two.
Thanks to the city's earlier food shortage, Ser Wylis was no longer so fat as to resemble a round ball, yet his clothes were still stained with food. Arya wondered if he would grow back to his usual girth now that food was flowing into King's Landing again.
"Princess Arya, My father and Ser Brynden want to see you now. Princess Arya only, Lord Karl," Wylis added. "But my father said he has a gift for you later."
What could it be about? Arya wondered as she followed Wylis along familiar paths and halls. The Red Keep was swarming with people now - lords and ladies, servants, goldcloaks, Rivermen, Northmen, White Harbor men. It was even more lively than it had been when she first arrived at the city with her father.
They arrived outside the Small Council chamber just before Ser Raynald, who arrived with a gun slung over his shoulder, but after Sansa was already there. Dimly she could hear the Blackfish's voice through the closed doors, along with another voice which must be Lord Wyman Manderly.
"Why do you think we're called here?" Ser Raynald wondered aloud.
The doors opened before Sansa could answer.
After the customary greetings, Lord Manderly ordered his son to guard the room and make sure no other servants even approached. Then he closed the doors and barred them. "What do you think of the Alexandrians? He asked simply once everyone had sat down.
"Karl and his friends are good people. But I know little of his father, and of the other Alexandrians. I cannot yet tell, and I do not wish to make hasty assertions after I… misjudged Joffrey," Sansa stated.
"I agree with Sansa," Arya concurred. There was little to add.
"They're the only reason our cause has yet to be overrun. They helped us defeat the Lannisters. And for this they are our firm allies," Raynald asserted.
Finally it was the Blackfish's turn. "I have spent much time with the Alexandrians, and even more with their leaders and soldiers. We can befriend them. We have even allied them. But we cannot completely trust them. For Lord Rickard of Alexandria… he is a strong-willed man. He has good intentions at heart, yet he is also beyond stubborn in shaping the world into something he wants to be, and he will have the Alexandrians work towards his goals. And one of those goals is a world where there are no kings, no lords, no knights. Of course, he himself will not give up power anytime soon."
Ser Raynald placed his gun on the table. It was a matchlock, like the ones the Alexandrians gave to the Northmen, yet it was more like the pistol Karl often carried around. And the engravings on the barrel were clearly not of Alexandrian make.
Lord Wyman picked up the gun and balanced it in his hands. "What's this?" He finally asked. "An Alexandrian gun?"
Raynald shook his head. "It is a gun, but not Alexandrian-made. I commissioned it off Tobho Mott. He assures me that White Harbor's smiths should be able to make these too."
"Do the Alexandrians know about this?" the Blackfish asked.
"Who do you think paid Mott? Lord Karl did," Raynald finally stated when nobody answered. "I don't think he asked his father, but he didn't seem concerned at all. He even ordered a hundred of these for the goldcloaks."
The Blackfish took over the pistol. "I'm not surprised. These are little more than kindling when compared to what the Alexandrians use themselves. They have better guns," he explained to Wyman. "Ones that could loose several shots without reloading, while these take half a minute just to reload."
"Small wonder that the westermen lost," Wyman remarked. "I would not want to be on the hollow ends of the Alexandrians' guns."
Raynald shook his head. "While Lord Karl used guns to take the Red Keep and capture all of Joffrey's court, and by then we had won nevertheless, it was the Kingslanders who rose up and overthrew the hated westermen. We would not have taken the city itself otherwise if the people did not allow it. Nevertheless guns are useful. Keep this pistol, Lord Manderly. Your smiths would surely make good use of it. But I am sure neither you nor the Blackfish summoned us here just to talk about the guns, or even about the Alexandrians."
The Blackfish nodded. "I talked of Lord Rickard and his stubbornness. He still humors us in the way we run our own realm, because we are still of much value to him and his peoples, and more importantly he thinks we would eventually come over to his view of 'civilization'," the Blackfish put up his hands in air-quotes. He does not think we could run our realm well in a way that could still care for the smallfolk, and I would very much like to prove him wrong." His lips curled into a wry smile. "Lord Manderly and I have decided that we should start by choosing our next king or queen."
Silence fell across the room.
Finally Wyman spoke. "Princesses Sansa and Arya, you are the only surviving trueborn siblings of the Young Wolf, and the only surviving members of House Stark. My House is now the strongest house in the North save House Stark itself. House Tully has ruled the riverlands for centuries; the late King Robb named Ser Brynden Warden of the Southern Marches. And the Westerlings are the largest house in those areas we would annex from the Westerlands, and will rule over those lands just as House Reed rules over the Crannogmen. Together we can speak for the whole realm."
The Blackfish rose from his seat. "The North and Trident has been without a King ever since Robb Stark was slain by treachery at the Red Wedding. Princess Sansa, you are the eldest living trueborn child of Lord Eddard Stark, and for this I have spoken with you earlier today. Do you wish to speak before we properly begin?"
"By the normal rights of succession, I should be next in the line of succession after my late brother. But these are times of strife, not of peace. I played little part in the North's victories over our foes. Doubtless my lords would have seen the letters I wrote to my mother and brother pleading them to swear fealty to Joffrey, and know that I was wed to the Imp. I had little choice in either matter, and the Imp and I have written to the High Septon to annul the unconsummated marriage. Nevertheless many will consider me too tainted to inherit Robb's realm. Our realm cannot be divided, my lords, not when Ironborn still prowl the Stony Shore and wildlings are besieging the Wall. And for this I cannot take the throne. For the good of the North and Trident, I hereby renounce all claims to the northern realm for myself and my descendants," Sansa declared.
"Apologies for my saying this, Princess Sansa, but your choice is for the better. He bore you no ill will, but the Young Wolf had disinherited you for fear that the Imp and the Lannisters behind him would take the North. I was there as witness when the Young Wolf declared who shall follow after him as King," Ser Raynald explained. "I don't know where the document is now, but my very own seal is affixed to it, and those of several lords who might yet be alive as well. This I swear by the new gods, and the old too if it would please the Northmen, but King Robb decided that Jon Snow would be his successor."
"It might not be a bad choice," Manderly mused. "I agree with Princess Sansa. Though we have destroyed the Lannisters and secured our independence, we are still at war. War with the Ironborn, war with the wildlings who now advance against the Wall. And perhaps war in southron lands if the Reach or Stormlands defy our Alexandrian allies. For this we need a male heir who is fit of body and mind, a warrior who can fight in our wars now. A prince who can lead and is already well respected, such that the realm's lords can rally behind him. They say Jon Snow is the steward to the Lord Commander himself. Perhaps-"
The Blackfish turned to Ser Raynald. "Did the Young Wolf disinherit Princess Arya?"
Ser Raynald shook his head. "Only Princess Sansa. He thought Princess Arya was dead."
A frightening possibility suddenly crossed Arya's mind. Robb was dead. So were Bran and little Rickon. And Sansa had refused the throne. If the Blackfish convinced them to reject Jon's claim too, that left…
"Then she is still in the line of succession, and in fact ought to be our Queen. For trueborn daughters come before bastard sons in the south, and I am unaware that this custom differs north of the Neck. Certainly before bastard sons who have taken the Black. How can Jon Snow be king when he has sworn before the gods to hold no lands and wear no crowns, and take no wife and father no children for the rest of his life?" the Blackfish asked.
"The Kingsguard swore to serve for life too, until Joffrey saw fit to release two from his service," Manderly observed. "If a king could dismiss oaths as such, why couldn't we do the same? We might even convince the Watch to do it themselves, there is much they need at the Wall. And it seems oaths have been more flexible as of late. Until very recently those who were offered bread and salt -"
"You jest, my lord." The Blackfish's gaze was cold as steel. "The Lannisters have been overthrown. And their fate will be kinder than what will undoubtedly befall Frey and Bolton." He drew his hand in front of his neck in a slicing motion. "If all of Ned Stark's trueborn children were dead or otherwise couldn't take the throne, if we were left with no other choice, then by all means make the Night's Watch release Jon from his vows and then we crown him. Desperate times call for desperate measures. But we are by no means that desperate yet. We already have our queen in this very room."
Queen? Arya shivered. It was Sansa who knew her way in court, navigating the Red Keep's intrigues as a hostage, and by staying alive she couldn't have done too badly at all. It was Jon who knew his way about the battlefield, fighting the wildlings at the Wall. Arya knew little about how to do either.
Without thinking, Arya rose from her chair. "Choose Jon, my sister, my lords. I don't know anything about ruling-"
"You know the Riverlands well from your travels. I daresay even moreso than the rest of us here." The Blackfish interrupted. "As for the North, were you not raised in Winterfell? And you won't be ruling alone. A regency will be established until you are sixteen summers old. And even afterwards, a good queen does not rule without listening to her councillors. Undoubtedly all of us here would be willing to help you rule your realm."
"Maybe I would be a good ruler one day. But Lord Manderly speaks the truth of it. The North needs a warrior and a hero now, and someone who knows how to deal with all the lords of the realm," Arya insisted. "Which I am not, so that only leaves Jon."
"Do not speak ill of yourself, Princess Arya. You helped us break out of the Red Wedding, and you were part of Karl's raid that destroyed the Lannister regime," Westerling reminded her. "The late King Robb named Jon as his successor, and I will support his wishes, but should that not be possible I would serve your cause just as gladly."
"What about the Young Wolf's will then, Ser Brynden?" Manderly asked." If we crown Arya instead of Jon, wouldn't we go against the late King's wishes? Ser Raynald spoke of other witnesses to the will who might very well be alive right now. What would they think of us going against Robb Stark's will? And I must warn you, Ser Brynden, we will be deciding on the succession without having consulted the other lords. What would they think of this?"
"Doubtless King Robb wrote his will thinking all of his trueborn siblings were captured or dead. Even I didn't know Arya was alive and well until the Alexandrians told us, long after the Red Wedding. He did his best with what he had, but the circumstances have changed. I know my great-nephew respected our laws and customs, and if he were still alive today, he would have chosen his trueborn siblings over a bastard thousands of miles away." The Blackfish rapped his knuckles on the table. "Even if we decide to crown Jon Snow, it would take time for the message to arrive at Castle Black. It would take time for the Night's Watch to release him from his vows. If we can even convince them to do so, and for that we would need to drain our coffers. Then it would take time for him to come south, time that our enemies could use to undermine us. Besides, we already have a prince here right now; a young male heir whom the North could rally behind when danger to our realm still rests from within and without. As you said, Lord Manderly, though we have secured our independence we are still at war. And there is no time to consult the other lords, nor the need to when the laws of succession are so clear on the matter. Did the Targaryen kings call a Great Council every time the previous king died? Do we need to summon all the North and Trident's lords through war-torn territory, just to acknowledge that a Black Brother can 'wear no crowns' as he has sworn to do so, or that the trueborn come before the baseborn?"
"What do you mean?" Ser Raynald asked. "I do not see any trueborn sons of Ned Stark lurking around the Red Keep."
"We don't, so I stole one from the Alexandrians. Surely you would have heard the tale of Joffrey Lydden?" Ser Raynald made as to speak, but the Blackfish waved him down. "I know little of Ned Stark's bastard. Maybe he had proved himself in the Watch's battles large and small. Maybe he had not. But what did Jon Snow do for the independence of our realm? Did he fight in the War of the Five Kings? Did he aid our people, supply our troops? Karl of Alexandria, on the other hand…" the Blackfish began counting on his fingers. "Slew the Mountain in battle, and helped save Ser Wylis - your son and heir no less, Lord Wyman - and other northern captives. Ser Raynald, you know very well of Karl aiding survivors of the Red Wedding and escorting Princess Arya to safety. Then there was the Grey Wedding. Karl did in one night what all of us had been salivating for in a whole year."
"Of course this is not to undermine Princess Arya's valor," the Blackfish added. "So now we have a trueborn Stark, betrothed to a hero whose deeds at war rival those of the Young Wolf himself. Any sons they have in the future will be trueborn grandsons of Ned Stark-"
"Thank you for your speech, Ser Brynden. Your argument is very convincing," Manderly stated in such a flat tone that Arya didn't think he was convinced at all. "But I think all of us have made up our minds by now. Perhaps we ought to take a vote, as you and I have agreed beforehand."
"Then so be it." The Blackfish set up a box in the middle of the room. Then he handed out small pieces of paper. Alexandrian paper, from the smooth touch, with Alexandrian pens to match them that didn't require dipping in pots of ink. "Write the name of your candidate on the piece of paper, Princesses Sansa and Arya, my lords. Then cup it in your hand and place it into the box. When everyone has done so, I will tip the box over. Let us all swear, by the old gods and the new, that we will recognize, abide and uphold the person with the most votes as our next king or queen. To this I swear, by the old gods and the new."
"To this I swear, by the old gods and the new," Lord Manderly declared.
"To this I swear, by the old gods and the new," Ser Raynald followed suit.
"To this I swear, by the old gods and the new," said Sansa.
Then it was Arya's turn. "To this I swear, I swear by the old gods and the new." Arya would vote for Jon. So would Ser Raynald and Lord Manderly. The Blackfish would vote for Arya herself, but he would be outnumbered even if Sansa - who didn't say a word at all after renouncing her own claim - decided to cast a vote for Arya too.
Please let Jon be king, Arya recited a silent prayer. The North deserved him. Not her.
"What's the point of this box and all?" Ser Raynald asked. "If we already don't know who's voting for whom anyway, which we do, we all write in our own way and the rest of us could tell. Why not have everyone simply announce in turn who they are voting for?"
"Those who announce later may be influenced by those who announced earlier. Not to mention that further debate will ensue, if others wish to pressure one of the electors recant their choice. We've all supposed to have made up our minds by now. I know I have long ago." Lord Manderly answered. He slipped his own piece of paper into the box.
"I shall vote for Jon. I cannot break my promise to the Young Wolf," Ser Raynald wrote JON in huge words on his piece of paper and put it into the box.
Finally it was Arya's turn. "Jon," she announced as she voted.
"We're all done then. The Blackfish tipped the voting box over. Five pieces of paper slid out onto the table.
Jon, Jon, Arya, Arya, Arya.
Oh no, Arya thought.
[A/N: It won't be the good ol' 'game of thrones' without a round or two of betrayal :)]