The Dragon Roar by Priestess of Groove is an utterly fantastic story I am reading. I'd advise you look into it! When you did say I sent you there!
"Lord Tywin?"
Said Lord looked up from the swarm of papers filling his desk, his hand still grasping a quill. "What is it Keven?" At the door to his office stood his brother, a serious look on his face as per usual with a letter in hand.
"A letter from your Grandson."
Disgust filled him, knowing the contents were probably worth little more the contents of his chamber pot. "What does Joffrey want?"
His brother actually shook his head, looking contemplative. "Actually no, it is from Arryn." Clearly a mark of surprise appeared on Tywin's face for his brother nodded. "I know, I was shocked to see it myself. I haven't read the contents but I admit I was tempted. What could the boy want, I thought he was all but bedbound."
"No, according to Pycelle the boy has been recovering significantly over the last year or so and actually accompanied Robert to Winterfell." Reaching for the letter, Tywin wasted not time in reading it genuinely curious as to it's contents.
Dear Grandfather,
I write to you now, hoping that you when you read this that you consider it not as my Grandfather, not as the Father of Cersei Lannister but as the Lord of Casterly Rock. As the Man who was once the Hand of the King, who all but ruled Westeros for twenty years. For it is that man that I call to.
From behind him Keven, who was reading the letter as well, made a sound. "Huh... what could he possibly want you for that would fore him invoke that part of you?"
"I have no idea."
I have little doubt that you have a network of spies and Lord of Whispers all your own, if any of the stories that I grew up on were true. My Father, King Robert, has recently appointed Lord Eddard Stark as a Hand and such we journeyed to Winterfell where I made efforts to gain the alliance of House Stark outside of the current Lord. Father's lack of allies beyond Lord Stark and the struggles he has in court inspired such action.
I am aware that I will never be King and in this I am comfortable, I only wish to bring honor and success to my House be it Lannister or Baratheon.
"It seems at least one of your legacy cares about our house. If you refuse to allow Tyrion to become your Heir then perhaps you can Foster Arryn, mold him into your heir."
The Lord of Casterly Rock nodded. "I know little of my Grandson, he might be like his Mother or Father and I would rather have Tyrion as an heir then one like them..."
Both men shared a long, disgusted sigh at the current status of the current generation of Lannisters before returning to the Letter.
In my pursuits, I gained the alliance of Lady Caitlyn and her Daughters Arya and Sansa. I know, from Mother's rants, that you hold women in little respect however Sansa is to be Queen and Arya will be the Lady of a powerful House. Lady Caitlyn is not only the Lady of Winterfell but is a daughter of the Tully family. In making allies with them I have strengthened the connection we nearly lack with the North and several Southern Families.
I even considered marrying into the Frey family, like Uncle Keven, to strengthen out bonds with the Tully's as they have no daughters I could take as my bride.
Both brother's shared a look, pleased. It was Keven that spoke first. "It seems that the boy understands his place, but I do not think the Freys would be the best option. His cousin Shireen would be preferable. Tearing control of the Stormlands and Dragonstone from the Baratheons would more then triple our army, giving us control over an armada once again as well as a large swath of Farmland."
"Perhaps but the girl is quite sickly and the chances of them creating an heir would be lower. Especially if she is anything like her mother. Three miscarriages, no sons?" Tywin shook his head. "Not that that fool Stannis would ever allow it. He loathes my daughter and Robert too much to ever allow it."
All seemed well... and then my mother and Joffrey destroyed this.
Tywin nearly groaned. "What did they do?"
Due to a confrontation with Arya Stark, one Joffrey initiated ( In which he attacked the girl and a friend of hers) and lost due to Arya defending a friend of hers along side her Direwolf, a Northern Boy was slaughtered by the Hound and Lord Stark was forced to slaughter one of the Direwolves. Sansa, Joffrey's betrothed.
"That foolish boy. Someone needs to take him to task."
It did not have to be this way, I actually managed to get my Brother to toe the line and act contrite. An act you may loathe but one that would have won over Lord Stark and Robert. Playing Arya to be a bratty child instead of what she actually was, a terrified girl who defended her friend. My mother would not have this and Headed the trial destroyed all that I had laid out, insulting Lord Stark and his children and destroying what little respect the North may have had for or towards the crown.
Both men placed the letter down, sharing a look of disgust.
"Your daughter will be the end of us Tywin. She has spoiled that boy to the point of madness."
Lord Tywin snapped the quill in his hand. "Pycelle has informed me of such, I would have corrected it years ago but Robert all but banned me from the capital and Cersei would never allow me access to Joffrey's upbringing. Looking over my other grandson has been a mistake, clearly. His mother's claws have yet to dig into him, tainting him with her stupidity and arrogance. He may be salvageable... I wonder what it is that seeks from me."
I have spent some time trying to reconnect with Arya and Sansa, with some success. The girls are young, easily swayed but their Lord Father is not as you can imagine. His loyalty to Robert is disgusting, more akin to a disgruntled cuckholded wife then friends. I do not doubt that when he reach the capital, which should be in three or so weeks from the mailing of this letter, that conflict will rise between my Mother and Lord Stark. She is too protective and refuses to experience consequences, or allow Joffrey to do the same and he is too bound by pointless honor towards his worthless friend who has will be buried due to his own vices before long.
I wish to change this, to stem the flow if only slightly. My brother will become King in the next few years, Robert's health is waning with each year and in truth we know that will not likely be what kills him. He is a fool, a cruel fool that will destroy everything without someone to watch him. The Small Council has failed to do this with my father, and many of them failed with the Mad King.
So I wish to take a place on the Council and stem the flow before we are awash in the cost of sins and stupidity. This is where I ask your help, pull the countless strings I know you still have and get my appointed to the council. I will report to you through any of your agents, I know letters are too easily intercepted but I have no other options. I will listen to your advice and orders if I must.
Help me help the realm before my mother and brother destroys it all.
Sheer silence, the weight of disgust and fear and intrigue lay on the elderly Lannisters. The actions of Cersei and Joffrey, the stain they had cast over the Lannister name was nearly too much to take. Neither man was fully able to stomach it and so they sat back, digesting the words and the request. More then twenty minutes past, a bell tolled in the distance to show the passage of time but neither man was able to move or even care.
Tywin considered his grandson, the little he knew of the boy, and much to his shame all he could remember about the boy aside from his illness was his name and the story behind it. How Cersei had sent letters crowing about her poor sick boy, destined to die in the cradle, being named Arryn after Jon Arryn's Maester saved his life and successfully treated the boy enough that had survived the cradle. She had wanted to name the boy Alywin but Robert had drunkenly demanded that Arryn name be given to the sickly boy in honor of his successful treatment. Those letters numbered near fifty before they stopped.
"We know nothing of the boy, Tywin... but perhaps putting him on the council would not be a bad idea. Not in a position of true power, but in an advisory role. The Lord Commander has no actual power on the Council but often spoke to the condition of the city and the guard. Pycelle could watch over him, see if he worth anything."
Unable to fully hide his surprise, Tywin looked at his younger brother and lieutenant with a rare measure of pride. "A fine suggestion and one I will take. If he is indeed worth anything I may have also gained a better heir as well." It took him several minutes but eventually a letter was scribed. "Have that sent to Pycelle."
The bumpy road shook through his horse's legs, rocking through Arryn's entire frame. 'This is nauseating.' His head ached, his body was sore and the urge to light his mother's carriage on fire was all too great. All in all the day matched that of the last three weeks, miserable. However the immeasurably vast and foul stench of Kingslanding burned in his nose, sinking into his skin and leaving the already horrible day even more awful.
Yet, there was a measure of hope, found in the simple fact that he could actually successfully avoid his mother here.
"Welcome Lord Stark." A familiar voice drew Arryn's attention. A toady of the Small council was standing, hand clasped behind his back, in front of a dismounted Lord Stark. " Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The Honor of your presence is requested."
Lord Stark turned to the cart behind him, where his daughter's and Septa sat. "Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper. Jory, you go with them."
"Yes my lord."
Said nameless toad shifted, clearly uncomfortable with something. "If you'd like to change into something more appropriate." Lord Stark merely took off his gloves, dismissive and almost bored. "Prince Arryn, your presence has also been requested my Grand Maester Pycelle."
'I hope Grandfather came through for me... and that he did not tell mother about that letter. I do so enjoy living.' Gathering his courage, ignoring the eyes of those around him, he dismounted his steed, handing him off to one of the servants that approached. Trotting over to Lord Stark, who seemed thrown by the sudden change in plans, he smiled disarmingly as possible. "Well, shall we hurry Lord Stark. I am eager to join my first Council meeting."
The gruff man blinked at him, even as they walked away from the rest of the people behind them. "I did not realize that you were part of the Small Council, Arryn."
"I wasn't until today. I have to thank your wife, if it wasn't for her, I would never have considered doing more with my life. I will have to remember that." He ignored the man's strange uncomfortable look, choosing instead to focus on the sweat burning on the man's brow. "You should have taken his suggestion to change your clothes. What your wearing is impractical for this heat. I changed the moment we were close enough." He ran a hand down his front, showing his light airy clothes, which revealed his collar bone and most of his neck. All of his clothes were light, more akin to a ride tunic though embroidered with the image of waves. A fun project of his. "I can have something made for you, and your daughters. Something more comfortable, though I would still ensure your house collars and Sigil remain intact upon it."
The man simply stared. " I appreciate that offer, but I must decline."
"If this is because of my mother then you are a fool. Your have a minute from collapsing Lord Hand. The offer isn't meant to be demeaning or even to make amends, it is so you can do your best work and not die of heat stroke." He almost flinched at his own words, knowing how disrespectful they were, but passions were running high due to his still aching body. He almost bowed to the man. "My apologies, my illness is making me quite... put out. I am in pain at the moment and the ride didn't help. Still, my offer remains."
"It is alright, I cannot imagine how your feel at the moment... " The look he gave Arryn was fatherly, warm and a tad sorrowful."Very well. Just... nothing red or gold."
They shared a smile, one oddly mischievous from Lord Stark, nearly identical to Arya's own.
Soon enough they reached the entrance to the Throne room, passing through it's guarded doors to see his true father sitting on the steps. Handsome and smug, it was an easy thing to see why people held his father in such contempt... that he was standing next to the source of that nickmake, Lord Eddard himself, only made it easier to imagine.
Tension erupted in the room before anyone spoke, conflict boiled between the two men. It was almost too much for Arryn.
"Uncle, it has been miserable without you on the road. I know it was necessary to ride ahead, but you were missed." He ignored Lord Stark fully, stepping ahead to hug his True Father. "I could have used your company."
Smugness burned away to genuine warmth, and the tensions began to wash away. " It was a necessary evil... I hear that you were given a spot on the Council. How did that happen?" Worry wiggled in the man's voice as only a parent could manage.
"That is a secret, dear Uncle... but for now, we really do have to go." He gave his Father a look, one of warning and of begging. He enjoyed the soft, brief sigh that preceded his father's nod. " Lord Stark, the meeting room is this way. Follow me if you please."
Lord Stark seemed almost put out, offended that he could not verbally spar or insult Jaime. "Go ahead, I'll be there in a moment."
'For such an honorable man, he seems almost driven to get in conflict with my uncle. Of course he also loves Robert so I shouldn't be surprised...' Nodding to both men, giving a smile to his father, he hurried away to the Small council meeting room.
The wide eyed smile of his Uncle Renly warmed his heart. "Arryn, how did you manage to squirm your way to the Small Council? If you wanted a place you could have just asked me."
Flippant and foolish, his Uncle Renly was one of the few people who had ever bothered to speak to him whilst he was in the midst of his treatments. They were not overly close at the end of the day, but it was enough to appreciate the man.
"It wasn't exactly planned Uncle, more inspired and a tad reflexive. Lady Caitlyn reminded me, unintentionally, that hiding in my room was never going to help me make goals a reality. If I truly wish to help honor my name and my house then I have to actually do something. This just seemed like a natural place for me to do so... " As Renly nodded, he stepped past the man and walk towards the Table. "So, Grand Maester Pycelle, what exactly is my Position?"
Blinking and stuttering in the most false way possible, the old man turned to him with a slight jangle from his chains. From within his robes, he pulled out a letter. "This is from your grandfather. It was his recommendation that you take a place on the Small Council. Advisor in Practice, that is your new title. You have no individual responsibilities like the rest of us, you Govern no aspect of Government like Master of Coin or Master of Ships but you do have a voice here and a place to learn. Should you prove yourself worthy and capable we will see about awarding you a higher position of Governance. Until then sit, listen and provide whatever feedback you think is helpful, but do not speak needlessly."
Grasping the letter, he nodded. "Thank you and I understand. I have a few ideas that I wish to express to you all, ideas that may better the realm... but I imagine I have to wait until Lord Stark and my Uncle Jaime are done with their pissing contest." Peter Baelish, a scrawny smirking rat of a man, and his Uncle Renly both snorted whilst Lord Varys, a thick balding man in ugly robes, smirked playfully. "Pity, from the tension I felt I fear we may be waiting for a while... Lord Baelish, you are the Master of Coin, are you not?"
Said man nodded. "Of course, your Grace."
"How costly would the instillation of a massive sewer system akin to what exists in Casterly Rock be?"
Wide eyed and almost unsure, the man went silent for a moment. "Nearly a Million dragons for the actual construction and at least half of that for payment... nearly a hundred thousand to have the supplies collected and delivered. A rough estimate of course, I will have to run the numbers more closely to give you a better answer. Of course the hard part might just be finding someone skilled enough to create said sewer system. Why do you ask?"
All eyes were on him, in time for Lord Stark to enter with a constipated look on his face. "One of my many goals, one I actually managed to refine thanks to books I read while in Winterfell... Lord Stark, it seems that I have been promoted to Advisor in Practice. I look forward to working along side you in the coming years."
A little surprised, Lord Stark nodded appreciatively. " And I you, my Wife had a great deal to say about you." With another smile, he turned to Lord Varys. " Lord Varys." They shook hands while, to the surprised of no one, Varys began to lick a little ass.
"I was grievously to hear of the troubles on the Kingsroad. We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's speedy recovery."
Unable to mask it, Arryn snorted. "Pity you didn't mutter for young Mycah, a boy of ten was slaughtered Varys. I think that is worth more of your energy then a small bite mark." At the Master of Whisper's shocked look, Arryn fixed his face into impassive annoyance. "Even the King admitted he knew my brother was full of shit, it was only to make peace with my mother that he did so little. Don't act so surprised."
This earned him a warm look from Lord Stark as the man moved away towards Renly, embracing the younger man. "Renly, your looking well."
"And you look tired from the road. I told them this meeting could wait another day, but-"
Peter interrupted. "But we have a kingdom to look after. I've hoped to meet you for some time Lord Stark. No doubt your Lady Caitlyn has mentioned me."
"She has Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."
The smug smile on Peter's face wavered just a little, something Arryn enjoyed. He had never liked the squirmly little worm of a man, he very much doubted anyone actually did.
"All too well. I still carry a token of his esteem from navel to collar bone."
This seemed to please the Lord of the North for it was his turn to look smug. "Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel with."
"It wasn't the man I chose but Caitlyn Tully, My Lord, but Caitlyn Tully. A women worth fighting for, I'm sure you'll agree."
'A there is that tension, must everyone piss at each other so frequently?'
After a short pause, Maester Pycelle, the grey rat his mother so loathed, spoke up. "I humbly beg your pardon, Lord Stark."
"Grand Maester."
"How many years has it been? You were a young man."
"And you served another king."
Another awkward, irritating silence filled the room for just a moment but in that moment Arryn had had enough. " As did you, as did everyone in this room bar Renly and I. That's the thing about Rebellion and inheritance. Kings and Queens come and go but those beneath so frequently stay the same. Same Lord Commander, two members of the Kingsgaurd, dozens of officials, almost this entire council, most of the current Lords and Ladies. All artifacts of a terrible time we all need to move past, now I do believe there is work to do. Grand Maester you called this meeting, what is it about?"
The Foolish Maester stuttered and stumbled around his words for a moment before pulling out a familiar looking pin, handing it to Lord Stark. " I almost forgot, this belongs to you... and if you must know My Prince, this meeting is to work out the finer details of the tournament your Father has commanded us organize for Lord Stark."
"Of course he..." Sighing, knowing full well that this is what he father would have in mind, Arryn decided to embrace it. 'It may be a perfect entrance into working on the Small council. There is little harm I can cause if I do wrong while learning a great deal about managing events and money. Perfect.' " Since we are all here, Lord Hand shall we begin?"
"Your Father isn't here, Arryn."
"Nor will he be." Both the Prince and Lord Stark looked to Renly. " Winter may be coming but my brother surely isn't."
Varys, seeing the concerned confusion on Lord Stark's face, offered an explanation quickly. " His Grace has many has many cares, he entrusts a some small matters to us that we may lighten the load."
"We are the Lords of Small matters here." Peter Baelish ended, his smugness adding a dash more of concern to Lord Stark's already weak expression.
'I wonder how many meetings Robert has attended. I doubt he has the stomach for it.' He watched as Lord Stark was handed a roll of paper from Renly.
"As was mentioned, my brother has instructed us to stage a tournament in Honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."
In tandem, Lord Baelish and Arryn asked. "How much?"
With a sense of disgust in his voice, Lord Stark answered then both. " Forty Thousand Gold Dragons to the Champion, Twenty thousand to the Runner up, twenty thousand to the winning archer."
Those words hit Arryn like wild fire. "Why so much? That is more then some Lords make in taxes in a year. Lord Baelish, how would this impact our current treasury?"
Lord Stark actually nodded, clearly curious himself.
Peter actually seemed almost uncomfortable at the attention for once. " We don't have a treasury, we'd have to borrow it. The Lannister's will accommodate, I'm sure. We already owe Lord Tywin Three million what's another eighty thousand."
"Are you telling me that the Crown is three million in debt?" Lord Stark nearly had his jaw scraping the floor, but that was better then Arryn who actually felt the world swirl around him as he realized just how deeply fucked they all were.
'My Grandfather owns us all... if he calls that due then we could afford nothing, Robert would be king in name only and no one would be stupid enough to pay a debtor anything.' Taking a very deep breathe. he called out to Lord Baelish. "To whom else do we owe?"
"A Handful of smaller debts but the majority is another three million to the Iron Bank of-"
"Braavos…" The world span again and this time he had to actually grip the table to stop from collapsing. "Are you mad... please tell me you are joking? Unless you are paying them they own our country. They could collapse our entire economy or fund our enemies, entire Kingdoms have fallen at their hands. Please tell me that you are making some sort of payments or have organized a time of reprieve so that we are not accruing interest?" Silence, like wind in a crypt, raged within the confines of the Small Council Chambers and in it Arryn found a new hatred of Peter Baelish and the Small Council. It took everything he had, a force stronger then his urge to drown Joffrey after any time he hurt Tommen, not to bisect the worthless little man in front of him. "What is our tax revenue? Does it exist or is it simply fueling pointless expenses?"
Thankfully he somehow managed to keep his voice level enough that Peter didn't seem annoyed at him. "We make just enough to cover basic expenses with a little extra, and that is including what we get from tariffs on produce and trade. Around twelve million overall."
Shaking, Arryn actually stood. " Are you telling me that we owe nearly half of our annual income and that we do not make enough to even make payments? Who else is owed?"
"The Tyrells, the Faith and a few cartels in Tyrosh."
"My... you will be the ruin of us... or more accurately my father will... Lord Stark, I mean no disrespect but this feels more important then a tournament. I did not intend to break it away from you."
The handsome gruff Lord waved off his protests. "You make valid points. How did you all let this happen?"
Peter actually seemed offended, though it was clear that Arryn's words had left some impact what with him appearing a slight paler then before. "The Master of Coin finds the Money, the King and the Hand spend it."
"I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to Bankrupt the Realm."
A sigh erupted from the Maester along side a snort from Arryn. " Lord Arryn gave Wise and prudent advice but I fear that his Grace didn't always listen to it."
"Calling Coppers he calls it." Poor Renly was rubbing his head, exhausting and embarrassment clear in his eyes.
The Lord Hand rolled up the scroll. "I'll speak to the King tomorrow. This Tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford."
"Maybe not." All eyes turned to Arryn, who admittedly flushed still not entirely used to all eyes on him without his temper flaring. Still an idea brewed in his head, one he could not help but be pleased with. "Renly... your friend Loras… he will be participating I assume?"
His Uncle nodded. " He always does."
"And Lord Baelish, would I be wrong in assuming that the swelling of people to watch the tournament brings wealth to the kingdom. Increased food, taxes and visits to shops including your brothels?"
"The Whores walk bowed legged in the streets, everyone knows that."
A smile crossed his face, melding with a smirk to make even his nasty mother proud. " Then I do believe that you should pay for Tournament, Lord Baelish, at least in part. You own the large number of successful Brothels, surely you can bear such a pitiful expense especially after a tournament more then to feed your business. We will place notice that the Knight of the Flowers is participating. Between him and my uncle, the most handsome men in all the realms, The girls will love it, I'm sure, more and more people would come to see them. We can have an admission fee, perhaps payed by those few knights that can pay and my those who wish to sell food or wine at the tournament." He enjoyed Lord Baelish's stunned, confused look and decided to pounce before the man refused. "If you lower your prices you will invite considerably more men to taste your wares, the numbers outweighing your lowered prices. You are the Master of Coin after all, to prevent further debt that would have us all suffer, this simple expense should be yours to pay. And given that a tournament takes weeks to gather the people to watch and play, you have plenty of time to gather the funds we need."
This time the silence was almost delicious, reeking of victory and pleasure. Everyone turned to Lord Baelish, looking smug and happy, even Lord Stark to some degree though the man seemed a little uncomfortable with the near blackmail being spewed towards the other Lord.
Renly, being arrogant and youthful, seemed almost orgasmically delighted. "My Nephew makes a valid point Baelish. You could easily support this a hundred times over without making a dent in your purse. As a matter of fact, I think we should be using this new purse to pay our debts, don't you nephew?"
"Oh at least partially... but I do believe we should wait for another day, when Lord Stark has had a chance to acclimate more fully to our Kingdom. Knowing exactly what is right and wrong with our government and the realm." Pleased with himself, his performance, he turned to the Lord Hand. "Does this seem reasonable, My Lord Hand?"
"I... I will still speak to the King, but if it is still to go on then yes, Lord Baelish you will fund it."
Cold and unyielding, Lord Baelish smiled. " As you wish, my Lord." His eyes turned to Arryn and in that moment he knew that he had made his first enemy.
'Mother would be proud, I played well in my first day on the Council and pissed off a powerful man... wonderful. Still, I made an impression and I helped stopped an increase on our vast debt... next goal, find a way to start paying it before they burn us to the ground. It seems my dream of making the sewer system may just have to wait... at least until we can pay it off or have our debt held until we can build up our coffers. Damn it Robert, it wasn't enough that you drown yourself in tits and wine but you had to drag the rest of us into it... why couldn't you die off and leave governance to people who actually are good at it.'
'Arrogant but wise, he reminds me more of Tywin then I would have expected.' Pycelle starred at the newest member of the Small Council. 'I wondered when there would be another worthy Lannister, it seems outside of Keven and Tywin there was no hope for that House. I shall report this to Lord Tywin as soon as this meeting is over. I think he will be quite pleased.'
Turning softly, his took in the sight of an exhausted Lord Stark.
'A good man, but far too close to that Drunken Oaf. No good will come of Lord Stark being the Hand, I am sure of it. He will be as ineffective as Lord Arryn was, indulging Roberts stupidity... but Arryn may be enough to stem the flow of that stupidity... too be seen it seems.'
Satisfied, Pycelle turned his focus to the real world, joining the Lords of the Small council in marking out the firmer details of hosting such a tournament.
Only one last separate thought entered his mind before he fully embraced the meeting.
'I will have to speak to our Prince, if he is to play a part then a greater understanding of the Council is in order. Lord Tywin wants him to be an asset to House Lannister, not a hinderance.'
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was my favorite chapter to date. I wondered why the Debt wasn't more important early on, that is massive! I figured that a pragmatic person like Arryn with no interest in personal power would have something to say beyond the simple overly honor and friendship bound Ned Stark would. I like him taking an active role and excelling to everyone's surprise.
He is not perfect but he cares and he is competent and I think that with the influence of his family and status he can do some good. A hard task in Kingslanding.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.
