For the first time in months, Ser Barristan Selmy was trailing behind the king as he headed to the council chamber. Ser Barristan often found himself stationed outside the king's chambers or on a galloping horse with the king and his hunting party in the kingswood. The old knight shuddered at the thought of the latter. He loathed the days he was assigned to guard the door when King Robert decided to transform his royal chambers into a pleasure house.
Barristan nodded at the Blackfish as the oaken doors closed behind him. He'd nodded at Ser Balon Swann earlier when he stood guard at the end of the bridge into Maegor's Holdfast. Glancing quickly around the council chambers, Barristan noticed a number of unfamiliar faces.
A few he vaguely recognised. Speaking quietly to Lord Stannis was the famed Onion Knight – well technically Onion Lord now – in his simple brown and green wool mantle. Barristan had never spoken to him before but admired the man for his bravery and boldness in Robert's rebellion. Standing next to his grinning liege lord Mace Tyrell a short distance away from Lord Stannis and Lord Davos was a thin and balding man with only a few orange tufts of hair left. Orange hair…it was not until Barristan noticed the burgundy grape cluster brooch on the man's cloak that he realised he was Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor.
Barristan watched as the king's younger brother Lord Renly flitter around the council chamber like a spirited green butterfly, chatting amicably to Ser Kevan Lannister and then laughing at a joke of sorts uttered by Lord Mace.
It was the last two men Barristan did not recognise. The first was a short man of slender build with sharp features: sharp grey-green eyes, a sharp nose and a small pointed beard on his chin with threads of grey running throughout his dark hair. Fastening his dark grey cloak together was a shiny silver mockingbird pin. Barristan wracked his mind, attempting to match the sigils of noble houses with their names – he was failing.
Birds…which houses use birds for sigils? Barristan frowned slightly. He hadn't thought about houses and their sigils in years. As the firstborn son of the Knight of Harvest Hall, he was given a fine education and he learnt about the great and noble houses of Westeros. As he thought back, he hardly remembered any. As he watched the short man begin a conversation with the eunuch, a flash of black and yellow appeared in his head. House Blackmont! No. House Blackmont's sigil was a black vulture with a pink infant in its claws on a yellow field.
House Corbray? No. Three black ravens in flight, holding three red hearts on a white field. It certainly wouldn't be House Arryn – their sigil was a falcon. Yellow and black struck in his mind again. House Caron! The man must be a member of House Caron, Barristan decided. Before he could study the other man, the king sat down and began the council meeting.
"Your Grace," the lords present murmured. The king dismissed it with a wave of his hand and grunted, "We all know why we are here today. We have spots in the small council to fill. I need a new Hand, a new Master of Laws and perhaps a new Grand Maester if our present one does not wake up!" Sitting beside a snoring Grand Maester Pycelle, Barristan gingerly poked him awake.
"Forgive me Your Grace," rambled Lord Mace, clearing his throat, "but I must ask, who are you?" He looked directly at the Caron man. The man smiled. His eyes did not meet his smile. "I am Lord Petyr Baelish, Lord Tyrell," he said pleasantly. "I am a lord in the Vale and the late Lord Arryn recommended me to come here to King's Landing and be the Master of Coin. It appears the late Lord Arryn was pleased with my work at Gulltown."
"Lord Baelish of what?" demanded Lord Mace, his face red with fury. "I never heard of you before!"
"Lord Baelish of the Fingers, Lord Tyrell," answered the man, his lips still in a curved smile, one more mocking this time. "In my youth I was fostered alongside the queen, Lady Arryn and Ser Edmure Tully in Riverrun. You are more than able to ask them to verify it my lord." His smile only widened. Barristan did not like him at all. He glanced around. Unsurprisingly Ser Kevan did not look too happy either. Then again, he was at the brink of being usurped.
"The small council does not require a new Master of the Coin," grunted Lord Stannis. "The position is already filled by Ser Kevan."
Lord Petyr Baelish of the Fingers turned his mocking smile to the grim Stannis Baratheon. "I was unaware of that Lord Baratheon," he said pleasantly. "You see, I was quite busy with matters involving the control of customs at Gulltown when I received a raven from Lord Arryn. He said he was pleased with my successes at Gulltown and for the good of the realm, I am to journey to King's Landing where I will be named Master of Coin. I did not question the order of my vassal lord, my lord Baratheon. I packed my meagre possessions" – Mace Tyrell snorted – "and I travelled here on the fastest ship from Gulltown."
Lord Stannis's expression did not waver. "The small council does not require a new Master of Coin," he repeated. "The position is filled by Ser Kevan Lannister who is managing the royal treasury successfully." Ser Kevan looked gratified. He should be, thought Barristan. Stannis Baratheon just complimented him…in front of all the other lords and even the king.
To his amazement, Lord Baelish only smiled more. "Lord Baratheon," he said mockingly. "I hope you did not think Ser Kevan was a competent Master of Coin due to his name of Lannister. I can assure you the late Lord Arryn recommended me on my achievements and successes, not my name. In Gulltown, I increased the incomes tenfold." Lords Mace and Renly gasped.
The king, who was bored up to then, looked at him with sudden interest. "You increased the incomes tenfold you say?"
"Yes Your Grace." Baelish dipped his head at him. "As your Master of Coin, I'm more than honoured to work my magic here."
Ser Kevan frowned. "Your Grace, the treasury is in good shape-"
"By good shape you mean almost empty?" tittered Varys. Ser Kevan flushed with anger. He shot an irritated look at the eunuch who brushed it aside with one of his enigmatic smiles.
"It seems Lannisters shit gold for themselves rather than their king," snorted King Robert, glancing longingly at the cup of Arbor gold in front of Lord Paxter. "I think Ser Kevan, you should return to Casterly Rock. I appreciated your services to the Iron Throne, but it seems our treasury is in need of…a little magic." Ser Kevan had the grace to stand up with integrity, his expression impassive. A great deal taller than a seated Lord Baelish, Ser Kevan was like a looming giant. "Good luck," he told him. With a bow to the king, Ser Kevan Lannister exited the council chamber, his scarlet cloak bearing the Lannister lion swirling around him.
Silence descended once the doors closed shut. "Well," said the king, breaking the layer of silence. "That went well. Baelish is it? I expect to hear excellent news from you in the future regarding the treasury!" He chuckled jovially. Barristan noticed his blue eyes had never left Lord Paxter's wine cup. "Now that is sorted, it only leaves for us to choose my Hand and Master of Laws. A pity Lord Tully fell ill. He was a bloody good Master of Laws as was Ned Stark before him." He sighed and shook his head. "It is hard to find hardworking men these days. Why must the honourable ones die, fall ill or hide away?" No one answered.
"Your Grace," spoke Lord Mace. "I am more than happy to fill in the position as your Hand if it so pleases you." The Seven Kingdoms will fall if you are ever the Hand of the King. As Lord Stannis retorted, Barristan's mind began to wander to all the past kings he served.
Apart from King Robert Baratheon, there was King Jaehaerys Targaryen the Second of His Name who bestowed the white cloak on him. He had only ruled for three years before he died after a short illness, but they were three peaceful and prosperous years. King Jaehaerys II had restored order to the Seven Kingdoms, ended the Blackfyre threat and reconciled many of the Great Houses who were unhappy with his father's reign. Every time a new Targaryen is born, Jaehaerys had said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. Madness or greatness. He could not have spoken more true.
Barristan almost shuddered as he thought of the Mad King. The horrors he'd ordered…the atrocities…the flames…
"You are already the Master of Ships! What more do you want?"
"I can serve the realm as your Hand," Lord Stannis was saying. "If I am named your Hand, finding a Master of Ships will be simple. We have Lords Seaworth and Redwyne present. Both men will be excellent Master of Ships."
"You must be japing, Brother," laughed Lord Renly. "Who in their right sense will obey you as Hand? Who knows? With such power you may finally grant your own wish and close all the pleasure houses in King's Landing."
Stannis glowered at him. "I do not see why that should concern you. I do not see you sneaking to a whore house at night."
"There will be riots at King's Landing if you do close them," Varys pointed out, rubbing his powdered hands together. "Many men work hard all day and at night, may hunger for a little release…"
The king snorted. "What does a eunuch know of release?"
Barristan shifted uncomfortably. The talk of sex often and other intimate acts often perturbed him these days. The stranger cleared his throat. "Lord Tully sent me here to be Master of Laws in his stead," he spoke. "For those who don't know me, I am Ser Waldon Whent, Lord Tully's cousin by marriage."
"Why did you not say so earlier?" barked Lord Stannis, grinding his teeth. "You could have mentioned it earlier yet you remained silent! If we were questioning a criminal as we speak, would you elect to remain quiet the whole time?" Barristan, Lord Paxter and Davos Seaworth nodded in agreement. "It was unwise to relieve Ser Kevan of his position as Master of Coin," Stannis continued. "Once his brother Lord Tywin hears of it, the Iron Throne would gain a powerful enemy – and for what? Replacing Ser Kevan with a lowly Valeman."
Petyr Baelish did not even flinch. "I never thought you would defend a man who failed in his duties Lord Baratheon. Or could it be because Ser Kevan is now family? What is he…your good-uncle?"
Lord Stannis stared at him expressionlessly. "Lord Baratheon speaks sense," said Lord Paxter hesitantly. "It is never wise to offend Lord Tywin. A Lannister always pays his debts after all."
"Merely words," giggled Varys.
"We will keep Ser Kevan as Master of Coin," said Stannis decidedly. "If he so wishes, Lord Baelish can stay as an advisor…for a short time."
"No," growled the king. "Ser Kevan Lannister did not help increase the royal treasury and Lord Baelish here can." He frowned. "You said you were fostered at Riverrun alongside my wife?"
"Yes Your Grace," replied Baelish.
"Catelyn never mentioned you."
"Oh? Dearest Catelyn. I always considered her a sister."
"She is 'Her Grace' to you," warned Stannis. He glanced at the king. "You wish to keep an insolent man in your council, Your Grace? Even Lord Tyrell would be a more fitting Master of Coin than Lord Baelish. It is still not too late to recall Ser Kevan Lannister." Lord Mace did not seem insulted or offended. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.
"Jon Arryn wanted Baelish as Master of Coin so Master of Coin Baelish will be," snarled the king, glaring at him. "Can you not respect the wishes of a dead man, Stannis? Jon Arryn was like a father to me. He raised me, taught me, protected me from the Mad King, fought for me and ruled in my name. Whatever he wrote in his will I plan to grant. If he wanted his daughter married to my son, so be it. If he wanted any of his bastards legitimised – if he had any – so be it. If he wanted one of his bannermen to be given a spot in the small council, so be it."
"You think Lord Arryn your father like Lord Stark your brother. What will you do, Your Grace? Journey to Winterfell again and ask Lord Stark to come to King's Landing as your next Hand?"
"If I must."
Stannis snorted. "Did you see Lord Stark in King's Landing? A fish out of water. He will never come back unless there is good reason. Being your Hand will not in any way bribe him south."
"His son is betrothed to my daughter."
"That will not motivate Lord Stark to come south still. As long as there is peace, he will continue living in the North with no care for the south." He paused. "It will be the Princess Lyanna journeying to Winterfell," he added. "The bride travels to her husband's home for the wedding."
The king's frown deepened. "My Lyanna is a princess; Robb Stark is the son of a lord. Young Robb will come south to wed Lyanna. Ser Barristan will knight him and there will be a tourney. After that, the two will wed followed by a grand feast and more festivities. I hope to see a grandchild born in King's Landing soon after they marry." He chuckled. "I look forward to the bedding."
Stannis stared at him, his expression contorted to one of disgust. "Of course you do," he muttered under his breath.
King Robert stood up. It was Barristan's cue to leave. "There is still time for an afternoon hunt!" he announced. Oh no. Not another one. "Lord Tyrell! Come and join me today!" Barristan almost laughed. Lord Mace mopped up the sweat that glistened on his forehead. "I…" he stuttered. "I am h-honoured-"
"Excellent!" He gave a final look at Stannis. "Lord Stark will be my Hand," he said threateningly. "Until then, you will temporarily be Hand of the King whether it is a few days or a few years. Don't come complaining to me when you soon find yourself unable to manage Storm's End, Dragonstone and the Hand's duties. You will soon regret it, Brother."
Barristan followed the king out of the council chamber, the Blackfish joining them quietly. As King Robert grumbled to himself and Brynden Blackfish, the old knight's thoughts drifted to the previous set of sworn brothers he once knew. It was in the reign of the Mad King when the Kingsguard was filled with the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms. Barristan's weary heart thudded. Fighting in a bloody war was never as glorious as the troubadours sang or the green knights and squires imagine. You lose more than you win.
The White Bull, Lewyn of Dorne, Ser Oswell Whent, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Jonothor Darry…all struck down fighting for their king's cause – even if the king was mad and unable to rule. Barristan's only other sworn brother to survive Robert's rebellion was Ser Jaime Lannister…who didn't deserve to keep his white cloak after murdering the very king he had sworn to protect.
"I'll have the Kingslayer and Ser Garth Greysteel accompany me on the hunt," the king said, glancing at Barristan and the Blackfish. "Blackfish, you have Queen Catelyn to guard. Ser Barristan, you looked like I sentenced you to death when I announced another hunt!" He chortled. "Must we have Redwyne as an advisor?" he muttered more to himself than to Barristan and the Blackfish. "If he must be part of the small council, at least he should cease bringing his wine in." Hunger glinted in his eyes – only for a second.
"Perhaps Ser Balon Swann should accompany you in your hunt Your Grace?" Barristan suggested. "He is a skilled hunter." Sworn brother he may be, he still did not trust Ser Jaime Lannister.
The king shrugged and guffawed. "You think it will take three men to protect me from a raging boar or stag?"
"I am concerned about your safety Your Grace."
"Lord Commander of the Kingsguard you may be, you are not my nursemaid Ser Barristan." He laughed regardless. "Is Ser Balon brave enough to compete in the hunt against me? Half the lords here are too frightened to even try and shoot a stag I'm aiming my spear at!"
Barristan smiled faintly. He stopped and watched Ser Balon relieve him of his duties. "Have you met him yet?" said the Blackfish promptly.
"Met who?"
"Lady Stark's son, Brandon. According to Lady Stark, Brandon is a sweet boy who is kind to everyone. Apparently everyone but me…and eventually you." Ser Brynden Tully shuddered. "Brandon Stark is kind," he conceded, "but if you have to spend a whole day with him…" He sighed. "Nothing but questions. It seems the king wants him to squire for one of us."
"I do not have many squires these days."
The Blackfish eyed him. "Do you have any squires at all? Jaime Lannister has a number of squires trotting behind him."
Barristan considered it. "When I was a younger man I had a squire or two. I'm pleased to say they all turned out to be remarkable knights. Sadly they both died in the king's war."
"Oh. My condolences."
"It was a pity they had to fight each other." Barristan sighed. He felt old. While the young died in battles, he was still alive. "Think me a senile, mad man, but at times I would wake at night and think Ser Gerold Hightower was still the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or in the mornings I would be subjected to one or two of Ser Oswell Whent's dark japes. When I teach the young Princes Orys and Ormund in the tiltyard, it reminded me of the afternoons when I fought against Rhaegar as part of his training."
The Blackfish gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't let the king hear you," he warned gently. "You know what he is like when Targaryens are mentioned. Even though there are none left, he still cannot let them go."
We all have our demons to battle. "What happened to that Frey boy you were squiring? Is he at the stables again?"
"He picked a fight with one of Lannister's squires. I was more than happy to dismiss Wendel Frey from my services and send him back to the Twins. I hadn't accepted another Frey squire since." He looked pleased with himself. Barristan could not resist arching an eyebrow and saying, "You River lords must loathe the Freys with a passion eh?"
"You do not want to know, Ser Barristan."
"Must I have Brandon Stark as a squire? I doubt I have the time or strength to teach the boy swordplay."
"I wish the king had not told him that he would squire for one of us. If only he could squire for another knight!"
"I must admit, I am astonished another Brandon Stark would come south. I'm even more surprised to hear that he is nothing like his namesake. Do you think the king ah, persuaded Lord and Lady Stark to send one of their sons south or do you think Lord Stark willingly allowed his son to go south? Eddard Stark is a man who does not forget the past."
"The past is the past, Ser Barristan. Whatever was discussed between the king and Lord Stark is none of our business. What we must be concerned about is who will have Brandon Stark as a squire."
"You are the queen's uncle."
"You are the famous Ser Barristan the Bold."
"If we are trading names, you are the infamous Ser Brynden the Blackfish."
"A name my brother gave to me during a rather heated quarrel. As for you Ser Barristan the Bold…who gave you the epithet?" The Blackfish smirked. "Duncan Targaryen was it not? During a tourney at Blackhaven when you were only a lad of ten and a mystery knight. Don't look so surprised Ser Barristan. It is a tale still told throughout the realm."
Barristan sighed and gave the Blackfish a tired smile. "We can always decline and give him to Jaime Lannister?" the Blackfish suggested.
Barristan shook his head. "No need. I suppose I need a squire these days. I'll take Brandon Stark as my squire, Blackfish." He farewelled the Blackfish, heading to White Sword Tower. Even now as he ascended the stairs, he could still see the ghosts of former sworn brothers.
This chapter was quite fun to write :) Tywin Lannister wouldn't be happy to hear his brother booted from the small council in favour for Petyr Baelish. Hmm...next chapter will be a Ned chapter and I'm planning for the one after that to be a Dany one :)
