A/N: I was humbled by the amazing response the last chapter received. Thank you all so much for that show of support. It was wonderful reading your feedback and getting your thoughts and seeing which future weapon you preferred Domeric to wield.
If you haven't already noticed I put a poll up on my profile with that very question. So make sure to vote on it if you have a weapon preference for him.
I also want to thank Hecate Blackmood96 for making and designing the new cover image for this story. It is awesome and I greatly appreciate it.
Our Blades Are Sharp
By Spectre4hire
44: The Lord Hand
"How is he?"
"The fever has subsided," Grand Maester Pycelle looked frail and tired under his grey robes, the chains forged from his time at the Citadel, clanged gently against one another. "He still has difficulty walking from his leg wound, but the salve seems to be working."
"Good," Kevan Lannister leaned back in his chair, "The last thing we can afford is our prized hostage dying due to neglect and incompetence."
Pycelle's eyes widened, while his mouth puckered in protest, "t-the king gave us our o-orders."
"Bad orders," Kevan dismissed that excuse at once. "A young woman could see the fault in those orders, but not any of the crown's advisers?" Kevan clicked his tongue, "Tell me, Pycelle, what does that say about the current state of our king's small council?"
"King J-Joffrey-"
"Enough," Kevan Lannister was already tired, and the last thing he needed to hear was some long winded babbling. "Thank you, Grand Maester, that will be all."
Pycelle took his dismissal with a bowed head, "Of course, Lord Hand."
He had been in the capital less then a few days and it seemed his brother's concern was warranted. Kevan remembered how Tywin took the news from Myrcella's letter. He had been irate at the dismissal of Ser Barristan, calling it folly, while annoyed at how Lord Stark was being treated. They needed the Lord of Winterfell alive and hale if they were to broker a truce between the Crown and the North. Disgraced or not, he was too important to leave rotting in a cell, where the only use he'd be is as food to the rats.
It was clear Cersei and the newly crowned king needed to be reined in and that task fell to Kevan. He had no taste for politics or the capital itself, but that did not matter because Tywin had given him his orders. Kevan would not fail his brother. He understood his duty to the Lannister family and the importance this role would play in making sure their family came out of this ensuing conflict on top.
That included making sure Lord Stark was well looked after. They needed allies if they were to fight and defeat Robert's brothers. How could they expect help from the north if their Warden died under their care? It was nonsense. It showed the lack of thinking and foresight that seemed to be too common amongst the advisers of the crown.
Advisers that he was watching closely. Kevan wasn't sure who he could even trust in the capital, all these men pledging fealty beneath sly smiles and honey compliments. Toasting to Joffrey's health and the Lannister wealth, but Kevan wasn't foolish enough to think they wouldn't turn on them at the sight of an advancing army backed by the wealth of the Reach and the charm of Renly Baratheon.
What they needed was more bargaining power. At one point, his dear niece had four valuable hostages that they sorely needed and could use to secure if not an alliance then at least a temporary peace between the Westerlands, the North, and the Riverlands. Now all that remained was one, an important one in the name of Lord Eddard Stark, but one that would've been more pliable if they also had his eldest daughter and bastard son, both of whom slipped out of the city beneath his niece's watch.
Or they could've lessened the north's numbers if they had a dagger to the throat of the Dreadfort heir. Lord Roose Bolton was too cautious to risk harm to his son and heir if he had been kept in the would've meant a smaller fighting force then the one currently marching south from the Neck. However, he too escaped the city leaving Kevan with the challenging chore of trying to salvage some sort of truce between the Crown and the North.
Kevan had yet to see the previous Hand of the King. Disgraced and dirtied, he decided to let Lord Stark recover in some relative peace and quiet from his tumultuous and damaging stay in the Black Cells. He would show himself an outsider to the machinations of his niece, Cersei and the Small Council, a reasonable voice, who wanted peace and friendship between them.
"Lord Hand?"
The soft voice of his young niece broke him from his thoughts, to see Princess Myrcella standing poised in front of his desk. "Myrcella," His smile came easy to him when greeting his beloved niece.
She is the key to the potential peace between the Crown and the north, the betrothal between her and Lord Stark's son and heir, a vital piece to any alliance between the Lannisters and the Starks.
"Please, Uncle Kevan when its just us," he reminded her, his gentle scolding bringing a sheepish look onto her pretty face.
"Of course, Lor-I mean uncle," she corrected herself, she then dipped into a curtsey, "I hope I am not interrupting anything."
"Of course not, my dear," he assured her, standing up to welcome her into his office, "Please sit down, child." He suggested, after kissing her cheek and leading her to one of the seats by the fire.
"Thank you, Uncle." She sat down, poised and gracious.
He stayed standing, admiring the beauty and charm the princess. She has all of her mother's beauty, but none of her nature, he observed as he poured himself some wine. A blessing, he realized, knowing Cersei well enough that even with her remarkable beauty, her pride and vanity marred some of her loveliness.
And she was lovely, he admitted, remembering her as the young maiden who had no rival throughout Westeros when it came to her beauty. Kevan believed had she been betrothed to Prince Rhaegar as Tywin had wanted, that the Crown Prince would not have strayed towards Lyanna Stark. She had a wild beauty to her, he admitted, but she was a lit torch in comparison to Cersei who shone like the sun.
"Uncle?"
Blinking back to the present to see the princess was sending him an inquisitive look. Her emerald eyes shone with a compassionate hue.
"Forgive me," he smiled, "Lost in a memory." He picked up his wineglass and moved to take the seat beside her. "What was it you were saying?"
"I visited Lord Stark today."
Myrcella had been the only one Kevan allowed to see the former Hand of the King outside of the Grand Maester and his acolytes. He kept loyal Lannister guards that he brought with him from the Riverlands stationed and guarding Lord Stark's room and the corridor that led to it. Not to mention, the guards already placed throughout the Tower of the Hand.
Kevan hadn't been certain in granting Myrcella's request to see the imprisoned Lord of Winterfell when she first asked, but he eventually relented when he realized that it couldn't do any harm. On the contrary, he thought constant contact with the Princess would help soften Lord Stark's seditious stance that led him to being imprisoned in the first place. By interacting with Myrcella so often, Lord Stark would have to accept what could befall her as one of the victims if his coup against the crown had been successful or if he chose to unwisely pursue it.
He also thought it wise to display her many talents so that he could see the benefits of having her as a good-daughter. Let him see her grace, her charm, let him be ensnared by her kindness, let him see how she is different from her brother and her mother, and that such a union between their houses would could only serve to further the north's interests.
"How was he?" He had heard Pycelle's reports, but was curious upon getting her observations. She was sharp and disarming, and he was certain Lord Stark would show a different side of himself then he would to Pycelle and his acolytes.
"He is sad," Myrcella answered honestly, "And angry." She looked down into her hands that were folded in her lap. "He wanted to know what had happened to his household?" She continued, "especially…" she paused, "the bodies of the fallen." She finished quickly.
"Ahh," Kevan nodded, "We have them."
"Lord Stark will be glad to hear it," She looked better upon hearing that. "He also asked after Jeyne Poole. She was the steward's daughter, and Sansa's friend." Myrcella's expression softened at the mention of Lord Stark's eldest daughter, someone who Kevan learned had become close with the princess and who she considered a friend.
"A girl," Kevan sipped his wine, not remembering any reports of a girl being found or of a body matching that description, "I will look into it." He'd ask the Eunuch, if anyone knew what happened to her, it would be the Spider. Nothing seemed to go on within these castle walls that he didn't already know.
"Lord Stark would be thankful," she smiled, "As would Sansa," her smile dipped, "Forgive me," She bowed her head, hiding her reaction to the girl who her brother and mother had labeled as a potential traitor.
"It is alright," Kevan gently put his hand to her face to try to calm her. Knowing her friendship with Lord Stark's eldest was a boon at the moment that should be welcomed, not cursed.
"Thank you, Uncle," her voice thick in relief that she wasn't to be disciplined for her feelings or her friendship with Sansa.
"How about you dine with Lancel and myself tonight?" He offered, "Prince Tommen too."
Kevan thought it would be better if he kept Tommen close especially upon witnessing some of Cersei's motherly habits with Joffrey. It would better serve the younger prince's interest to be under his care then his mother's. He doubted Cersei would fight it or mind as she was more preoccupied ruling as Queen and being with Joffrey then wanting to spend time with her other children.
Myrcella's face brightened at the invitation. "I would love to, Uncle." Her smile was dazzling, "I'm sure Tommen would too."
Kevan found her mood infectious. His lips twitching to form a smile. She would make Eddard's heir a very happy man, he thought, now all he needed was for Lord Stark to see it too.
"Lord Stark." Kevan took in the man who held the title of Lord Hand previously. He was sitting by the fire, a walking stick beside his chair. His clothes were clean, simple black trousers and a grey tunic with the sleeves rolled up to try to stem off the heat of the capital. Even as a prisoner and in disgrace, the northerner had a proud posture, and a stature that demanded respect.
"Ser Kevan," he turned to face him, his face pale and gaunt from his time in the Black Cells. His grey eyes hooded with suspicion while his mouth seemed pressed into a permanent frown. He moved to stand up, wincing as he did, which he tried to hide.
"There is no need," Kevan held up his hand to stop him.
"My thanks," Eddard's grip on his walking stick loosened as he slipped back into his seat, a content sigh followed, but his eyes remained on him. They flickered to the pin that signaled the Hand of the King, "I was certain the Queen would've appointed her father."
"She did," Kevan answered, "But Tywin sent me."
"I suppose your brother is too busy burning and butchering in the Riverlands," he observed darkly. He scowled while his grey eyes hardened, an intense gaze directed at Kevan as if daring him to correct him.
"My brother is busy putting down a rebellion."
Eddard scoffed, turning away in disgust.
Kevan took the silence to get some wine, he noticed Lord Stark already with a half filled goblet resting on the table beside his chair. "I'm pleased to see you are recovering."
"From your niece's tender care," he finished.
"She was wrong to do so," Kevan admitted, "A foolish decision fueled by pride and spite," He looked to see he had Stark's attention as he moved to sit down directly across from him. "You questioned her son's legitimacy, so she meant to make an example of you by tossing you in the Black Cells." Kevan sat down, shrugging his shoulders, "A place where the worse prisoners reside. And the Crown and the small council put treason above all other crimes."
"And what of my household?" He challenged, "They were innocent of any crimes, and they were butchered."
Kevan would not flinch to this man's cold, biting tone. "You should've known your actions would have consequences, Lord Stark," he reminded him. "They were your servants, loyal to you. That made them a threat that needed to be dealt with."
"Threats?" Lord Stark's tone was icier than the famous northern winters. "What does that say of your king when he sees threats in the forms of a septa and an old steward?"
"I understands your upset, Lord Stark," Kevan replied curtly, "But do not mistake the fact that you condemned them all when you confronted my niece with your planned coup."
"Aye," He sighed.
Kevan let the silence over them settle only for a few seconds before adding. "Jeyne Poole is alive. She will remain alive and safe, even if our talks do not become fruitful."
"Thank you," He said sincerely.
Kevan nodded, "I've come to speak to you on the behalf of the crown," he saw the sneer on Lord Stark's lips emerge, but he pressed forward before the prisoner could protest. "There can be peace between us. King Robert thought as much when he betrothed his daughter to your son. He wanted our families linked, a marriage that would strengthen Westeros against invaders and rebels."
"King Robert has no royal daughters."
"Ahh," Kevan had suspected this response, "Then shall I let you be the one to tell Princess Myrcella that there should be no marriage between herself and Robb?" Lord Stark stiffened, "She will be devastated, but I'm sure she'll understand why once you explain your reasons to her."
He frowned. A look of disgust accompanied it, "You'd rely on such tactics to forge alliances?"
"To form a lasting peace?" Kevan corrected, "Absolutely."
"Myrcella is a sweet girl who'd make a man a dutiful wife," Lord Stark observed politely, "But she is a bastard," He tried to keep his face impassive, but a slip of regret could be seen flickering across his stoic expression, "And therefore cannot marry Robb, my son and the heir to Winterfell."
Kevan felt annoyance flare in his gut at his rejection of Myrcella. She didn't deserve such a dismissal, she was kind hearted, and good, and he felt a better woman than this Robb Stark deserved as a wife. "Your family should consider themselves fortunate to have such an offer extended to them. A royal princess, and a woman who already cares not just for your son, but for you as well," He could see Lord Stark's discomfort at that reminder, "Otherwise, I wouldn't be in the capital right now, and you'd still be in the Black Cells, left to rot in the darkness."
"Princess Myrcella made her choice," Lord Stark said, "And I have made mine."
"Cersei warned me of your stubbornness," he felt the smile on his lips. "It appears that was the only thing my niece has gotten right so far." He waved his hand, not wanting to dwell on the Queen at the moment, "These are part of the terms. There simple and agreeable, Lord Stark. I thought it'd be best to give them to you first. Your son will come south, bend the knee to King Joffrey, marry Princess Myrcella and remain in the capital, where he will be given a role within the small council."
"You'd have my son a hostage?"
"He will marry a royal princess, and be made a member of the King's small council," Kevan corrected, "An offer that should not be rejected so quickly."
Lord Stark mulled this over in silence.
He saw this as a sign to continue. "Theon Greyjoy travels with your son."
"He is my ward."
"He is a ward to the crown," Kevan pointed out, "And we will take responsibility for him, and have him here in King's Landing."
They would need him to insure Balon Greyjoy wouldn't raid their lands if it came to war against Renly and Stannis. They already had a pair of valuable hostages in Ser Horas and Ser Hobber Redwyne, the sons and heir to Lord Redwyne. His niece had made sure that they didn't escape in the aftermath of Robert's death. It had been one of Cersei's few effective moves since she took control as Queen, following her husband's demise. Their presence in King's Landing will prevent the Redwyne Fleet from joining the Reach's forces.
"I assure you, Theon, will be well looked after during his time in the capital. He will have his own set of rooms, and the freedom to explore the city and the surrounding area. He is also a trusted friend of your son, and I am certain Robb would be grateful to have him here with him."
"Joffrey has no claim to the Iron Throne. He is not Robert's seed."
Kevan refused to blink under the cold gaze of the Lord of Winterfell. "A convenient truth to wash away your crimes."
"Jon Arryn died learning that truth," Eddard growled, "And I'm prepared to."
"Do you think this war will stop with your death?" Kevan was trying to poke through the cold façade that Lord Stark wore so well. "Thousands are going to die, but we can lessen the bloodshed."
"We?" He repeated the word with dripping disgust. Stark looked at Kevan as if he had grown a second head upon his shoulder. "Joffrey is not the legal heir. I will not be part to this illegal seizure of the Iron Throne."
Kevan laughed, ignoring the obstinate Northerner before him, drinking from his wine instead. Even when he felt the curious grey eyes of his prisoner, he didn't look up. He kept his attention on his glass, drinking another generous sip as he held back a chuckle.
"You are misinformed, Eddard, and for that I apologize." He finally put his glass down and looked to see the frown on Lord Stark's face, while his grey eyes were muddled in misunderstanding.
"It is not you who I will treat with, but your son," Kevan revealed, "This meeting between us was a courtesy, a way of showing you the respect you once warranted as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." He saw the snarl ready to slip, and the cold anger behind his eyes, but Kevan refused to yield the conversation, "Your time is done, Lord Stark. You will not rule Winterfell again. You are a prisoner of the crown for committing acts of treason."
He stood from his seat, savoring the stunned silence that came from the former Warden of the North, "Let us hope Robb does not share your shortsightedness, for the sake of your family and for the entirety of the North."
A/N: To those wondering why it's Ser Kevan and not Tyrion serving as acting Hand, it's because Tyrion hadn't rendezvoused with his father's forces by the time Tywin received the letter from his granddaughter. So he begrudgingly had to send his brother, to fix the mess in the capital.
A situation that comes to light earlier in this story because of the princess' agency in sending them a letter and informing them of what was happening. A change that brings with it different and unexpected ripples that will have an impact on this story and its characters.
And here starts the first round of negotiating and politicking between the Crown and the rebel forces of the North and Riverlands. Things are subjected to change, and both sides are using whatever advantage they can have (such as Kevan trying/threatening to negotiate with Robb instead of Eddard). The situation is fluid and will continue to develop as the story progresses.
Again, I just want to thank all those who took the time to review this story especially the last chapter. It was humbling to get so much great feedback, and I'm sorry I couldn't reward it with a speedier update. Sadly real life got in the way. However, receiving such a tremendous response meant so much to me and truly inspired me to keep persisting with this chapter.
Your reviews do help, so please don't forget to leave one. Your support is appreciative.
Thank you,
-Spectre4hire