The Second Small Council Meeting always bugged me... like if you know there are going to be a lot more people who not increase security? Janos Slynt was a monster but he made a good point.
Arryn is Bisexual, they don't use that word in the series but I have made that clear since the first chapter where he outright says that he has slept with men and women. He prefers men generally though.
"It's the Hand's Tournament that is causing all this trouble my Lord. "
Arryn stared down at the slightly trembling Janos Slynt, an all too familiar headache brewing as he remembered his meeting with Pycelle just a few days before. Slynt, like a shocking number of people, belonged to his mother due to a large bevy of bribes that had helped the man land the title of Commander of the City Watch. A lofty position, one that gave great power to anyone who wielded it, especially for a commoner like Janos.
Tall and slightly balding with thin white hair, Janos was by no means impressive. From what little he knew of that man, mainly what his Mother ( Thanks to the orders of his grandfather) and Pycelle had informed him, he was a decent fighter by not innately talented. A trait Cersei attributed to his lowborn status. Arryn believed it was because the man was a rarely gifted sycophant and asslicker who managed to stick his balding head so far up Cersei's cunt that he was able to get a position he was not suited for. He had little proof of this but knew his mother well enough to know that she enjoyed people who licked her ass more then people of actual skill.
Jaime being a rare combination of both skilled fighter and asslicker for his mother.
'I really need to be careful to not allow my dislike of others to cloud my judgement. I have no actual knowledge on this man outside of what Mother and Pycelle told me and I do not trust either of them as of yet... I need to be better.'
The squeak of Lord Stark's chair brought Arryn from his own mind. "The King's Tournament, I assure you, the Hand wants no part in it."
Unperturbed, the balding man spoke up. " Call it what you will Lord Stark, Sir. The City is packed with people and more are flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunk horse race down the Street of Sisters."
It took everything for the Advisor in Practice to not chuckle at those words.
"Dreadful." Unlike Arryn, Varys seemed almost bored of this, something that the Prince did not understand.
Naturally his Uncle had to speak up. "If you can't keep the King's Peace, then perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can." Snarky and bored, his naturally flippant Uncle proved his ignorance.
"Commander... how many men do you have at your disposal?" Everyone turned to him, unsurprising since he had been all but silent through the meeting.
Janos took a second to blink at him before answering, though it was clear he was unsure of himself. "Two thousand your.. Grace?"
"Two thousand people is usually enough to counter the issues born of our large populace, is it not?" The man nodded, still unsure. An idea began to form in the Prince's mind and slowly he began to put it into motion hoping he was right. "Then it makes sense that the swelling of people has undone what balance was maintained. It is obvious that we should have increased your numbers or at the least given you some sort of assistance. This is already proving to be the largest Tournament since my Father became King... In this we have failed you."
The man bowed. "I am honored by your words, your Grace. You are precisely right. There are too many people to monitor with our current numbers. We simply do not have enough eyes or hands."
In that instant, Arryn saw an opening to gain more trust from Lord Stark and impress even more onto the Council that he was competent."Lord Stark, if I may... I do believe I have a suggestion?" The Man nodded towards him, clearly curious. "Uncle, how many Squires exist in Kingslanding, not counting those that are assisting their Knights in the Tournament?"
"What does that have to do with anything, Arryn?" Annoyed and bored, the man all but dismissed him.
Something Arryn loathed, and so he took great pleasure in slamming his point into his audience. " Because Squires, most of them, are Knights in all but name. They have the same training, skills and understanding of the laws. Their martial skills are not being used in a war at the moment, so why not have them work for the City Watch during the Tournament? It would give them experience, a public face and a chance to prove their capabilities, honor and intelligence. We wouldn't have to train new people and the crowds would be easily contained, well relatively speaking of course."
There was a pause before Lord Stark smiled at him. " A wise thought and one I would never have considered. Knights are a rarity in the North." Turning to Renly, he spoke to the now put off man. "How many squires do we have in the city?"
Put on the spot, his Uncle rolled his eyes a little. "Somewhere around three hundred, two hundred and fifty or so if you take away those that are working with their masters in the Tournament."
'He should be thrilled. I just made his job a lot easier, after all he is the one that has to deal with the influx of prisoners if the peace is not kept.' Leaning forth, words flew off of his tongue like sweet honey. "I would assume there are a similar number of pages then? Roughly at least? They would make wonderful messengers for the City Watch. Not those under say, twelve? That should bring the Watch's numbers to nearly twenty five hundred, which I do believe would be more then enough to monitor the city. Lord Baelish can of course continue to pay for this... and Uncle Renly, I know your cells are probably filled right?" His uncle, finally seeing the point, actually nodded. " Then why not offer a different course of punishment for those who committed lesser crimes. In return for a reduced sentence or removal of once, they can assist with the preparations of the Tournament. Setting up tents, clearing the fields, assisting with deliveries... those with martial skills may even be of assistance in the City Watch on one or another tasks."
He relished in the shock, proud and considering looks of those around him...
"Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes. A pity we so rarely listen to them." Pycelle, being the professional ass licker he was, spoke in that doddering foolishly false way so typical. "That would bring the number of the City Watch to a drastically higher number and would reduce the strain on those responsible for setting up the tournament. I do believe this should be sufficient enough to lessen the strain Commander Slynt."
"Yes, Grand Maester. It would be a great boon."
Ned nodded. "Then you shall have it."
"Thank you, Lord Hand sir. They will be put to good use." With a bow, the sycophant marched away taking with him the slight reprieve of conversation and something to do, leaving the Council.
The Hand, Lord Stark, sat back with a look of exhaustion. " The sooner this is over the better."
"The Realm prospers from such events my Lord." They all turned towards Varys, who spoke softly with his typical dramatic near whisper. " They give the great a chance at glory and the lowly a respite from their wows."
"And they fill the pockets of countless people with coin, increasing the taxes we need to fulfil our duties to the realm." Satisfied, Arryn took a sip of the still warm tea in front of him. "And I must say it is a wonderful way to learn how to assist in governing. I do believe I have a talent for it... but that aside, I do have something to bring up to the council. What are we to do about my Uncle Stannis' all but fleeing the city? We have no armada present, and I have seen a considerably decline in the number of merchant ships present in the bay. I can only imagine what liberties the Ironborn are inflicting on those no longer protected by the intimidation Stannis inflicted upon the world. I was wondering, what is being done to encourage my uncle to return, thus returning our armada?"
Silence and sheepishness, then Renly all but snorted out. "Nothing can get my brother to return when he is one of his moods. He left out of jealousy of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King. It will take months for him to get over himself enough to return. I assure you there is little we can actually do."
"Are we at least making an effort to get him to return?"
Renly just scoffed but Varys offered another view. "As much as it pains to me to admit, Lord Renly's view of Stannis is quite astute. Lord Stannis was rather displeased that your father did not appoint him as Hand of the King and it was after a large argument about Lord Stark's appointment that he fled. I doubt that Lord Stannis would even read a letter sent to him. He is entertaining a women from Essos, a Red Priestess of the Lord of Light."
"Wonderful, now we are more vulnerable then we have been in decades, our ships are not being protected all because my uncle is having a tantrum... and instead of fulfilling his duties he is entertaining a cult famous for it's human sacrifices." Rubbing his temples, the young boy made a mental note. 'I have to get in contact with my dear uncle. There is no way we can allow this to continue. How can my father tolerate this? Or does he even know, I am not sure he is sober enough to have realized that Stannis' absence has left us vulnerable to a bevy of assaults or raids. How this Realm has managed to stay standing is far beyond me. Is everyone around me incompetent."
Thankfully, Lord Stark decided that he was done listening. "If that is all my Lords." They all stood at that moment, knowing they were dismissed.
Arryn sat back, taking in each of the idiots as they left the room. His Mother and Pycelle's words from three days past clear in his mind as he focused on Varys.
"The Eunuch is not to be trusted. Master of Whispers, bah, the man is a Spider. No one knows what he seeks, what his goals are. I would never trust him, your Grace." Pycelle had spoken first, a sneer clear on his whiskered face.
Cersei only nodded, looking hurt and angry still.
"Still, you should never underestimate him. He has people in every country, every House, every family. His spies make up a majority of people of those in and around the Court."
Arryn held no such reservations towards the Eunuch, he knew that most ( Pycelle included) saw the man a monster only for a deformity he had no choice in. It felt foolish to hold such a thing against a man who had served so loyally over the decades. He seemed to be an asslicker in each meeting, but there was a note of drama not unlike a Mummer's act. 'I must see what I can do to learn the man's true loyalty and desires. An unknown is not what we need and with him on my side I would know more then Pycelle can offer.'
Next, his eyes turned towards his Uncle, a growing irritation burned it's way like stomach acid burning in his throat. 'He takes everything without seriousness, utterly bored at each council meeting. Even now, despite my perfectly valid concern about Stannis stealing our fleet, he brushed aside the worries as if they were nothing. How he has managed to maintain a position on the Council is beyond me.'
This was nearly echoed by his Mother and Pycelle. "Your father found fit to place his brother in a position of power despite Renly being terrible at his position. Crime is at an all time high, few actually are punished for their crimes and those that are mostly those who offended the wrong Lord. Mostly your uncle. From what I have been told, he has sent more then five men to the wall for not giving in to his sexual favors."
His Mother laughed. "Only five, I heard it was a great deal more." She laughed cruelly, a mocking sound that made him wish to hide his own interests a thousand times more then he already had. "He does have a handful of spies but not many. He is wonderful at parties and favors but does not make lasting connections enough for reliable spies and whispers.'
Then there was Peter Baelish and this time it was his mother who spoke first.
"Trust him as far as you can throw him, and even then be careful. Still, he can be easily bought. Like most lowborn, he hasn't much power beyond his Whorehouses and spynetwork. Most of Robert's whores belong to him and so does your father.'
Oddly that was it, leaving him with very little else to go on. 'No mention of motives, ideologies or even where his reach lies... so helpful mother dearest.' With a sigh, he stood from his seat and made his way out of the Small Council room. Annoyed and determined. 'Still that was more then I had before... I suppose I would be best speaking to Sansa now, it has been a few days since I have seen her... or Myrcella… sigh, so little time and so much to do.'
The rapping of knuckles on the door nearly made Sansa jump, as it was her Septa did in fact jump, looking with a scowl at the door. "Who could be at the door?" Huffing, she hurried towards the door, opening it. "Yes, oh your Grace."
Immediately, Sansa stood and bowed. "Prince Joffrey." Her voice trembled as excitement filled her. 'Finally, a chance to get him to like me once more.'
"Not exactly, Sansa." Soft and amused, the sound of Prince Arryn's voice drew her from her fantasy before it could truly begin, making her look upwards to see the second prince and his younger sister, both smiling at him. "I am sorry I have not seen you in days, I have been so busy working on the small council and continuing my training that I have given little time for anything else. Please, forgive me." His easy smile lifted her spirits, despite the disappointment that his brother was not there.
"It is alright, your Grace." Standing from her low curtsey, she strode towards him, eager and excited to be near royalty. "Princess Myrcella."
The younger girl smiled at her, all but charging into the room. "I've missed you, Sansa!" The sweet princess embraced Sansa for a moment, just as Arryn kissed her cheek softly. "Do you want to go with us to Tourney?"
A little stirred, Sansa looked up at the Prince, who nodded. " We would be honored if you would attend with us. You and Arya... wherever she is..."
A nasty huff came out of Sansa's throat. " She's with her dancing teacher, always coming back scabbed up and bruised. She's so clumsy."
"Dancing... huh, I never thought your father would..." A happy smile came to the prince's handsome face. "She is learning swordplay, Sansa. The Waterdance of Braavos. I promised her I would speak to your father on this but it seems that he has already taken measures to ensure that she learns. I admit, I didn't expect it. I am happy for her, I never understood why women are not allowed to learn of martial matters, especially when many are more suited to it then their male counterparts."
Unable to hide her disgust, Sansa turned away with her nose held high. "Ladies are not supposed to be warriors, we are supposed to raise our husbands children and gossip and maintain our houses."
She all but felt her Septa nodded, clicking her tongue in agreement.
Arryn didn't look pleased, and neither did Myrcella. The Princess stood away from Sansa for a moment, looking at her with something that made Sansa's stomach hurt, it resembled Joffrey's disdain so perfectly. "Your from the North... just like House of Morment of Bear island. Their are legends about the female warriors of Bear Island. Even my father respects them and their power. I am surprised that you are so against women becoming warriors when you are surrounded by examples to the contrary." With her nose high, Myrcella turned away from Sansa. "We have lemon cakes waiting for us at the Tourney, if you want some Sansa, Septa Mordane."
Arryn enjoyed his sister's attitude, her irritation towards Sansa, sharing in it himself. Perhaps it was his mother's occasional drunken rants on how Jaime was treated better then she was by Tywin, or maybe it was reading about Dorne and the Summer Isles... Lands that celebrated women, encouraged them to be better, be more then broodmares... but the idea of reducing women to nothing but broodmares was repulsive. As far as he was concerned, treating women so pointlessly different then men made little sense. Especially when many women were more capable then their male counterparts, his sister and Joffrey being a prime example.
As they left the room, he nodded to Dagmir, who placed a hand on his sword and bowed low to Lady Stark. The handsome man, along side the guard Lord Stark had set for Sansa, stood in defense of them as they walked towards the Tournament.
'Mother will not like it, but perhaps Myrcella should marry in Dorne… and so should Arya. They would do well there I think, in a land that will encourage them to rise not bend to their husbands. It would certainly keep them safe from Mother's influence, and would create closer ties to Dorne, which I know is lacking especially after what My Grandfather allowed to be done to Rhaegars children.' Giving his sister a look, he tried to imagine her bowing to anyone... he almost laughed loudly, even as they traversed the halls, making their way to the Tournament which was to start in an hour. 'I cannot imagine it. Though she is smarter then mother, she is just as stubborn and just as willful. I think it's my bad influence, oh well... it would be a great idea, I think, to have her learn some basic forms of combat. With Mother and Joffrey so eager to make new enemies it really is a matter of time until there is some kind of attack.'
Absently, he listened to his sister and Sansa finally start talking again, sharing a conversation on local gossip. Nothing of major nature, but enough to keep Sansa occupied and that was all he needed. While he listened, he considered just how he would manage to get his sister the training that may one day save her life.
'I may also have to teach her something on ruling. In Dorne or not, I will not allow her to become just a broodmare. She deserves so much more then that.'
The swell of the crowd disgusted Cersei, the stench of peasants and sweat and wine left her almost gasping for relief though it did not show on her face. That was, until her Oaf of a husband stood up and all but scream. " Enough with the pomp, Start the damn tournament before I piss myself." It was impossible to hide her hatefilled sneer. Still, despite what she wanted, she stayed where she was. She had her own mission to fulfil...
Her eyes turned to her son who had escorted his sister, Arya and Sansa, both of the Northern girls on either arm, both looking positivity radiant in their youth and interest. Her son's newly Sworn Shield, Dagmir, stood just behind with a patient energy. The girls were in a clearly rampant conversation, including her daughter, looking intensely invested and intrigued with whatever they spoke about, only starting to hush when the Mountain rode onto the field, his powerful body filling Cersei with a sense of delicious danger.
That he was facing Ser Hugh, a pride filled weak minded moron who knew more then she liked, only added to the sensation of danger present. She knew, thanks to Petyr Baelish, that this was to be Ser Hugh's first and last Tournament.
She didn't bother to pay attention, there was little need. She had seen men die before and she was not interested in this, for she had a mission of her own.
Watching her son, who had somehow managed to gain the support of his grandfather under her nose. She watched him closely, angry and proud in equal measure as they sounds of the jousting echoing around her, almost nonexistent as the memories of her meeting three days before came to the forefront of her mind.
"Hello Mother, Maester… I see your both here...Shall we begin?"
Almost cocky, her son's words stirred anger in her heart. "You turned against me, why?" Tears burned at her eyes, unable to hide her frustration at the merest notion that one of her children so easily and quickly turned against her. Not only gaining power that she had craved her entire life, but the confidence of her father something she had never managed to do.
"Your Majesty, perhaps it is best not to-"
"I never turned against you mother, I simply realized that if we are survive I am going to need my grandfather to keep you in line." Cold and unfeeling, a near perfect mimic of his grandfather's voice, Arryn looked at her with intensity that left her feeling bare and betrayed. "A sad fact, one I did not once want to believe but you have left me with little choice. Your actions on the Kingsroad was beyond anything I could have imagined that you were capable of."
Anger burned at her throat, like bile. "I did what I had to protect your brother!"
"You did what you had to protect your ego and his. You know as well I that he was in the wrong, you are teaching him to become unable to take responsibility for his actions like Robert only with the madness of the Mad King. You burned a bridge with the Hand of the King and Lord of the North as well as with his daughters, who will have the ears of the entire North and whomever they marry. I never intended to be more then an architect, a footnote in history, but you forced my hand mother. If you will not make Joffrey a worthy king, if you decide to continue being a hinderance the our House and our Realm... the I will do what is necessary to protect us all. If that means that I must put you in your place, work with my murderous grandfather... then so be it."
Silence, the sound of betrayal, filled the Maesters chamber.
Then then weak willed grey rat spoke up. "Perhaps it would be best if we moved on, Lord Tywin demands that we educate your son in the Council and the condition of the realm. If Prince Joffrey is to be king, then having another voice in his best interest would be a tremendous advantage."
His words stirred her even if she wished to put his head onto a spike. "Fine." She ground out, unable to hide her anger but unwilling to disobey her father. "Where should we start."
"How about... who is on your payroll, Mother? Who are your spies, who's ears do you have? On and off the Council, of course. Who can I trust to ensure the safety of House Lannister."
Immediately she knew that if she wished to maintain any power or control, she had to withhold information... and so she gave only the surface of those she owned. "Janos Slynt, Commander of the Gold Cloaks... though I share him with Petyr Baelish. A few hangers off in court, mainly the Lady's in waiting.'
They had stayed for nearly an hour, discussing the various people owned and bought by Cersei, Petyr, Renly and Varys. Despite herself she could not help but be impressed by how quickly he seemed to understand the value of their words.
'If only Joffrey could be like that...'
A rush of loud gasps and screams alerted her to the death of Ser Hugh, drawing her eyes to the sight of his bleeding broken body. Smugness overtook her, and she knew that the secret of her children's true heritage was kept even more securely then ever before. All that was left was her, Jaime, Tyrion, Arryn and Myrcella.
She found great comfort in that.
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
It wasn't my favorite chapter but it is one I enjoyed writing as it show cases what happens when you have an eager and willing participate surrounded by idiots and greedy bastards in a Government. He is innovative because he still cares and has no major goals for power...
I am still struggling to show him gaining allies so I would appreciate suggestions on this...
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.
