It was often said that the Starks after the War of the Five Kings resembled the Boltons at times.
There was some merit to this of course.
Sansa the First of the House of Stark, the Queen of Winter had never married again after her coronation. But she had given birth to twins shortly afterwards, and it was widely accepted that despite her best efforts, her 'husband' had indeed given her Bolton children, however much she insisted that they were Starks first and foremost.
And just as how it could be said that the Starks gained some of the Boltons' ruthlessness; Queen Sansa was correct in that they were still Starks. Her son and daughter had the Stark face, but the Bolton black hair and milky eyes; and the soft, whispering voice that Boltons were known for.
But they had her honor, her sense of right and wrong; and above all else, they had the Stark blood.
Many Maesters look back on the time after the War of the Five Kings; and as Maesters are wont to do, they drew many comparisons to those that came before them.
Queen Sansa was often compared to her brothers Jon Stark and Robert Stark; along with their shared father, Eddard Stark. All three of them inherited something from their father, and the three of them together could have made an Empire if they had wanted to.
Robert had his father's mind for War, as were it not for the mistakes he made politically, it is very likely that he would have destroyed Tywin Lannister and the Incest King's armies.
Jon had his father's mind for ruling justly and fairly; as his long and much beloved reign as King of the Free Folk demonstrated.
And Sansa had her father's mind for Politics and Spycraft; as her ability to expand her hold from just the North, to encompass the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Free Folk with naught but diplomacy shows.
Many historians and my fellow Maesters after the War of the Five Kings look back upon Eddard Stark's time as Hand of the King with a very critical eye.
Those who are sympathetic to the Starks say that it was only his skill in politics and pure willpower that kept the Seven Kingdoms together for as long as he did; and it was betrayal that finally brought him down, and the Seven Kingdoms went down with him.
Those who are anti-Stark leaning simply see him as someone who was incompetant as Hand of the King; although even they grudgingly admit that he did his best with the cards that were given to him.
I personally find that the truth (as usual) lies somewhere in the middle.
Eddard Stark was a rather competent Hand, and he did indeed keep the Seven Kingdoms together for far longer than he had any right to. But the sad truth was that he was unprepared for the way politics in the South worked; and Petyr Baelish had stacked the deck against Stark. Had Eddard Stark become Hand at a different time, or if Petyr Baelish was dead or simply a non-factor at Kings Landing; most moderate and unbiased historians agree that Lord Eddard would have quickly adapted and been a truly effective Hand had he been given the chance.
His reign over the North demonstrated his ability and skill at politics and intrigue; but it wasn't enough to save him.
But as it stood, Queen Sansa and her son and daughter were able to expand the Kingdom of the North; and it soon became the United Kingdom of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale. Upon her death at age 93, Sansa the First of the House of Stark would hold the titles of: The Queen of Winter, the Trident, and the Mountain; the Warden-Protector of the Free Folk.
And with her death, would come more war; as war was the currency of Westeros.
Many centuries would pass, and many wars would come and go, but eventually; the great powers would come and agree to peace after the Fourth Westeros War.
The Great Powers of Westeros by the end of the Fourth Westeros War would be: the United Kingdom of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale; the Kingdom of the Lion (which would be the Westerlands, the Crownlands, and the Reach), and the Princedom of Dorne (which was made up of Dorne and the Stormlands).
These three Great Powers would finally, after centuries of conflict, turn their attention outwards; and towards the skies.
-Maester Benjen Sand, A History of Westeros, Post-War of the Five Kings.
Councilor Tevos shifted ever so slightly from one foot to another.
There were a myriad of emotions running through the Asari Matriarch, and very few of them could be counted as good. Excitement, Curiosity, and Happiness were being drowned in Fear, Paranoia, Rage, and Resignation.
She wanted to strangle Sparatus where he stood, but she couldn't do that; both because it was unbecoming of an Asari, and also because it wouldn't really accomplish anything. It wasn't like he was the one who had ordered that madman Arterius to try and suddenly conquer a colony of a new race to the Galactic scene.
But he did try and cover for the man, and that is something that will need to be dealt with at some point. She mused to herself, before turning to Councilor Idris. "What do we know about these humans?" She asked, even as she read the casualty reports from General Arterius' failed pacification.
Idris read over her own reports while Sparatus huffed in disgust. "They are a primitive people, new to the ways of the Mass Effect; and clearly divided, as the colony had three factions on it that needed to be subdued separately. And they have a bloodthirst that rivals the Krogan; all three cities and the people that lived in them refused to surrender."
Tevos looked over at the Turian in alarm. "Surely you didn't slaughter them to the last?" She exclaimed.
The Turian actually looked slightly hurt at that accusation, and buzzed his mandibles angrily. "Of course not! Every single one of their soldiers died, or were injured and captured. Most of the adults were also killed because they picked up the fallen weapons and started fighting as well." He shifted uncomfortably. "Most of the prisoners we have, are soldiers who were wounded enough to be knocked unconscious or incapacitated; but were still treatable… and Children."
Idris snorted. "Yes. Of 100,000 people on the Colony, including combatants, only 12,000 remain."
Tevos could feel the blood drain from her face.
That was an unmitigated disaster politically and diplomatically. The humans would be braying for Turian blood; and if the Asari and Salarians tried to stop them, then they might turn their guns on the other Council races as well.
Tevos swallowed, "Their response depends on their government then. What are we looking at?"
Sparatus grimaced, "These humans seemed to be divided into three groups." He started. "The Confederation of the Westerlands, which is a Democracy; the Braavosi Republic, which… is a Republic." He started awkwardly. "They should be easy enough to treat with, as democratic and republic governments tend to be."
"And the third?" Tevo asked, already dreading the answer.
"A Spirits Damned Monarchy." The Turian spat in disgust, throwing his tablet onto the table in anger.
Tevos rubbed her head, already feeling her headache growing by a healthy amount. "Of course it is… what do we know about its dictator then?" She asked, already assuming the worst.
Monarchies and Dictatorships always resulted in significant headaches for the galaxy at large. The Quarian's and their King had unleashed the Geth; and even now they still roamed the Galaxy in their Migrant Fleet. The Batarians and their Consul plagued the Galaxy with his bands of pirates and slavers. And the Krogan and their Emperor… the less said about the Krogan Rebellions, the better.
Idris rubbed his chin, "A Queen. She is called Arya Stark the II. Her title is…" He peered at his dataslate for a moment, then continued with a derisive snort. "The Queen of Winter, the Trident, and the Mountain; Warden-Protector of the Free Folk."
Damned Monarchs and their titles. Tevos cursed internally, already dreading some diplomatic mishap where some official didn't grovel enough for this Queen. "I suppose the question is, should we continue to fight this war; or shall we make peace?" She asked, already knowing the answer.
"Peace." Idris said simply, "Already developing Genophage, if they refuse peace, we can use it. With Peace, we can restrain them with treaties."
"Are you serious!? We must keep attacking them!" Sparatus roared. "They are ruled by a dictator, and this 'Queen' will never accept peace. She'll simply keep throwing her people at us until they're all dead or we are. If we find their homeworld, we can remove this Queen from the galaxy, and then make these humans clients of the Council."
Tevos just rubbed her temples, then said, "Peace it is then."
Prime Minister-Lord Allister Seaworth stood beside his queen awkwardly as the Battleship reached the location of this 'Citadel'; his queen's face remaining impassive as it always did.
For a woman in her mid fifties, she looked like a woman half her age; which thanks to modern medicine and technology, was not something that was much of a surprise anymore. He was pushing a hundred himself, and yet he looked closer to his fifties. He still remembered when a hundred years of age was a rarity; and something to be seen as a blessing from the gods, both the old and the new.
Queen Arya II was a pretty woman.
She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but she had a plain beauty to her that still caught many men's hearts when they looked upon her. Pale skin and raven black hair, a heart shaped face, and a buxom figure; all of which were something that many men would die for.
But there was one thing that always kept men away from her as well.
Her pale, milky eyes were something that inspired terror in even the bravest of men; and her almost apathetic and stoic expression was something that would freeze even the hottest of fires.
Allister swallowed as he stood next to her, painfully aware of how different they looked.
He was plain looking, with graying hair and a receding hairline; and was dressed in a simple suit and tie, and the ceremonial sash worn by the Prime Minister whenever they were elected by the House of Commons.
She was wearing the Armor of the Starks.
While it looked like something from the War of the Five Kings, it had K-Barriers; and was reinforced to be able to withstand modern weaponry. The Black, gray, and white patterns on the armor looked like cracked ice; the gold accents standing out in sharp relief.
She had the Valyrian Steel Sword of the Starks, the Broadsword Blizzard sheathed on her left hip; and her wolfs pelt cape hung to her knees. To her right, sat her direwolf Frost; the massive beast examining the Citadel through the viewing screen with an almost dismissive air to him.
"Your Grace." Allister finally said.
"Yes, Prime Minister?" She asked back, and Allister had to suppress a shudder.
No matter how long he had been working for the Stark Kings and Queens, he had never gotten used to that damned whispering voice of theirs; and Queen Arya was particularly bad, as she spoke in a near monotone, while the other Stark Royals at least displayed emotion in their whispering voices.
"Might I ask as to why you feel the need to wear your armor? You are not here to participate in a Trial by Combat, nor are you here for War." He said carefully, keeping an eye on her Direwolf as he talked.
It was said that the only way to truly get a hold of Queen Arya's emotions, was to watch her Direwolf; as he would express what she did not.
And thankfully, the Direwolf just huffed in amusement, while the Queen turned her emotionless gaze onto him. Allister again suppressed a shudder as those disturbing, pale, emotionless eyes that seemed to bore into his soul ran over his body for a moment. "As my ancestor learned, peace is not guaranteed even on the best of occasions." She whispered coldly.
Allister swallowed at that.
He had learned about the Red Wedding as a teen. It was one of the only times in history class that he remembered every single one of his classmates not acting like immature shits, and actually paid attention to what was being told to them.
If she truly believed that a Red Peace Conference was likely, then he would be in very serious trouble when the bullets and slugs started flying.
He wasn't a soldier dammit, he was an administrator and a politician.
The Queen then looked back at him, and he felt a spike of terror when she gave the tiniest of smirks at him. "Do not worry, Prime Minister." she whispered. "You shall be safe behind me. Which is more than my husband can say, but then he prefers to be behind me."
Allister blinked for a second as the Queen looked back outwards, the smirk gone from her face. Did she… was that a joke? He wondered for a moment, then shook it off. "Your Grace, I have reviewed the peace terms they sent us before we came here." He said, deciding to get to the point.
"As have I." She hissed, and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "They are not peace terms, but terms of surrender." She spun on her heel, her Wolfs Pelt-Cape flapping as she walked. "The Starks have ruled the North for over 10,000 years; and the Riverlands and Vale for over 2000." She stated simply.
Allister moved quickly to keep up with her as she continued to talk.
"I will not dishonor my ancestors and my people by giving up this crown; and letting them be subjugated by these puffed up alien oligarchs." She growled, her eyes finally flashing with emotion; even as Frost growled in kind. "And that genocidal maniac that calls himself General… He shall meet Blizzard's blade. Whether it be through execution, or through Trial by Combat."
Allister suppressed a wince as he had to protest. "Your Grace… Trial by Combat-"
"-Is technically outlawed, as the creation of Jurors and Magistrates removed the need for it entirely." The Queen finished with an almost dismissive wave of her hand. "Yes-yes-yes. I am aware of that. But the King or Queen of Winter may still waive that right for special occasions."
Allister knew that he would regret saying this, but he felt compelled to add. "Flaying is outlawed as well your Grace… Do you intend to waive that as well?" He asked.
The Queen turned her gaze to him, and while her face and eyes still showed no emotion that he could see; Allister knew that he'd gone a step too far.
He took a step back, even as the Queen took a step forward; tilting her head as she looked him up and down again. "No… I shall not. I may have Bolton Blood within my veins; and I may be Roose the Traitor in mannerisms and appearance… But I am still a Stark. I have honor." She declared, her voice never raised above its usual whisper; but for the first time, she dropped her creepy near monotone.
He could hear the faint hurt, but also the anger in her voice; and he bowed his head. "Forgive me your Grace, I meant no offense."
"And yet offense was taken." The Queen replied as she drummed her fingers on Blizzard's sheathe. "But I do commend you, Prime Minister, for still being a good advisor." She turned and continued walking, before she paused and looked down.
Once again, she dropped the monotone, but kept her normal whisper as she said; "He killed my son… my heir… I will not forget, nor will I forgive."
She looked back at him, and this time her pale eyes had a fire in them. "Desolas Arterius will die by my hand, Prime Minister. Of all the points we will not capitulate on; The Throne of Winter, and Arterius' head are the ones I will not budge." She hissed, and Allister no longer saw a Bolton; he saw a Stark.
Allister smiled for the first time since he departed on this trip, as he nodded, "I would expect nothing less, My Queen."
Shala'Raan nar Rayya swallowed heavily as she slipped through the crowd of onlookers.
She had not expected excitement like this during her pilgrimage, but she was more nervous at the crowds surrounding her as opposed to the news of a new species being discovered and entering diplomatic talks with the council after a short but fierce war.
As a Quarian, she was experienced with sensing the moods of crowds; mainly because any sign of anger in a crowd tended to be directed at Quarians like her.
And right now, the Turians in the crowd were practically boiling with anger.
It was very restrained, which was a given when one considered the militaristic society the Turians lived one; and how they prided themselves on discipline and order. But Shala could sense that these Turians wanted blood, and they didn't care how they got it. But for the moment, they were keeping themselves restrained, if only for the sake of the Asari, Salarians, Hanar, Volus, and Batarians in the crowd.
As she inched her way through the crowd, she saw a shuttle land on the main dock; and she could see the C-SEC agents tense, while the Councilors all stood, looking more like mannequins as opposed to actual people with how little they moved.
Shala finally found a small emergency catwalk, and she climbed up it so she could get a good view; her smaller stature prevented her from getting a good view of the proceedings, and she knew that the fleet would want to know about this.
She opened up her omnitool and started recording, steadying her arm on the safety railing for the emergency escape catwalk.
The shuttle opened its door, and two squads of soldiers poured out of it.
Shala blinked slightly, both at their way of dress and at how these humans looked. She had heard they looked like Asari and Quarians; but she had not been expecting them to look like a Quarian-Asari hybrid.
Most of the humans were men, though two were women if the mammary glands were anything to judge by. They wore dark gray coats, with dark blue tunics underneath, and with gold accents; they each also wore high boots, and an oddly triangular shaped hat.
Their weapons were Mass Effected Assault Rifles, though each of their weapons had what looked like a short sword blade attached to the end of them; and each soldier looked as if they were carved from stone, showing no emotion as the cameras flashed them and the mutterings of the Citadel's civilian populace filled the area.
They really do look like Quarian-Asari hybrids. Shala mused as she eyed up one of the men. And clearly not lacking in some departments. She thought, before she shook her head and refocused on the task at hand.
Another human had come from the ship, and he wore something more modern looking; though still somewhat archaic compared to how most species dressed. He had hair on his face as well as his head, which was something that was different from Quarian men; as they couldn't grow hair on their face.
He also seemed to show more emotion compared to the soldiers, as he seemed to be uncomfortable with all the attention directed to him.
Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and shouted in a clear voice, which in turn was translated from a language known as 'Westerosi', as the language had been sent out to translation software companies before the summit, "Presenting her Grace: Arya the II of the House of Stark, Queen of Winter, the Trident, and the Mountain; and Warden-Protector of the Free Folk, the Children of the Forest, The Andels, and the First Men."
A hush fell over the crowd then as loud footsteps seemed to echo from the ship, and Shala found herself holding her breath.
The Queen… was not what Shala was expecting.
She had expected something like what she had seen in Quarian history texts; a woman in a thin and flowing Raelk to cover her lady parts, and Sehni cloak to cover her face and to trail down her back.
Instead, Shala felt that she was almost looking at a micro-Krogan.
The black, gray, and gold accented armor was frankly intimidating; as was the ridiculously large sword that the queen had at her side. In spite of its archaic appearance, Shala had no doubt that it was more than sufficient to protect the human from most forms of harm; and a quick scan with her omnitool revealed that she had a high grade K-barrier installed into her armor.
The Queen was pretty looking, though her skin was a pale pink; her hair was black as night, and her eyes… Shala shuddered upon seeing those pale, emotionless things. Then Shala caught sight of what was next to the human Queen, and choked on her breath and nearly fell off the catwalk.
Shala had run into Varren a few times on her pilgrimage, and it had been an unpleasant experience every single time. The furred beast that stood next to the human Queen was far larger and far more ferocious looking than any Varren Shala had ever seen in her life.
Ancestors… It's big enough that a Turian could probably ride it! She thought.
And yet… it had a sort of noble bearing to it; and Shala could see a keen intelligence that lurked behind its eyes.
She wasn't the only one unnerved by the beast's appearance, as many C-SEC officers immediately put their hands on their guns; and some even took a few steps back while they stared open mouthed at the beast.
But the humans seemed unconcerned by the beast's appearance.
In fact, the man that had announced his Queen had even seemed to be comforted by the furred creature's appearance; if the fact that he discreetly scratched its side was any indication.
The Councilors finally seemed to shake themselves out of their stupor, and Councilor Tevos stepped forward; and Shala could see, even from her perch, that the Asari's smile could only be described as strained.
"Welcome to the Citadel, Queen Arya. We extend our hospitality to you and your people." Tevos said in a loud and clear voice.
The human Queen simply tilted her head slightly, and narrowed those pale eyes; before glancing at what appeared to be her second in command, giving a curt nod.
The man nodded in kind, before turning and waving, and four more humans emerged from the ship; dressed similarly to the man, though they lacked the gold pin in the shape of a fist on his lapel. They bore a tray that seemed to have a set of drinking cups, a bottle of something, and what appeared to be bread and a bowl or clear crystals.
They walked forward and held out a tray for the Queen, and one for each of the Councilors.
Then the Queen spoke, and Shala shivered at the unsettling monotone the Queen spoke with; even though her voice was no louder than a whisper, Shala could hear it clear as a bell.
"In the North, it is tradition to partake in Bread and Salt; as it means that Guest Rights are now to be observed by both parties." The Queen explained softly, and it seemed that even the Councilors were unnerved by her voice. "To break Guest Rights… It is an affront to the gods, both the Seven and the Old."
Her eyes narrowed. "The last time a house broke guest rights… they were wiped off the planet."
Her warning was clear, they would not tolerate any form of trickery or attempts to detain them. Not that the council would of course, not even the Batarians were harassed… even if they should have been.
Tevos seemed to be the most composed of the group, so she took a piece of bread; put some salt on it, then took a bite, before taking the drink to wash it down. Tevos coughed loudly, while the Queen mimicked the Councilor's actions; watching the Asari with pale, uncaring eyes.
"That is… Quite strong wine." The Asari admitted, looking pained by the admittance.
Shala smirked, quite pleased to see the asari taken down a peg slightly, when the human Queen spoke again. "Your… compatriots have not partaken." She noted, looking at Idris and Sparatus for a moment with an almost apathetic gaze.
Idris and Sparatus shared a look, then both of them did the same as Tevos; taking a piece of bread, salting it, then swallowing it down with the wine.
Much as she disliked the Turian councilor, Shala felt her stomach ache in sympathy. While a Dextro-based sentient could eat Levo-based food, it tended to cause minor stomach aches; and the amount of nutrients taken was nowhere near as much as Dextro-based food.
Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the Queen, who nodded to her servants; and they all bowed and took the trays away.
"Shall we carry on our talks?" The Queen asked softly.
"We shall, in the council chambers where seating, food, and other such luxuries will be provided." Tevos replied.
The Queen nodded and set a hand on her sword. "Then lead the way."
Shala smiled as the procession moved along, and she quickly followed it from the rooftops. This should be interesting.
Tevos could feel sweat forming on the back of her neck as the furred varran followed its mistress, and she could see the keen intelligence behind its eyes.
At least that beast shows emotion, I'd prefer that to the… nothingness I get from this damned Queen. Tevos thought as she took a seat at the head of the table, Sparatus on her right, Idris on her left.
The Queen sat opposite of Tevos, the beast laying on the floor and curling around the woman; looking like a mountain of fur had sprang up from that end of the table.
The Queen's pale eyes seemed to read Tevos like an open book; while Tevos, even with the centuries of experience under her belt as a politician, couldn't even sense an emotion from the woman.
Deciding to break the ice, Tevos decided to ask, "So how long do your people live?" The Queen simply tilted her head, so Tevos pressed on. "I ask, because I am curious. Typically a Dynasty only rules for a few generations before it dies off."
The Queen continued to stare at Tevos, before she finally spoke. Tevos stiffened ever so slightly as that soft, whispering, slightly musical; and yet cold, monotonic, and emotionless voice reached her ears.
"The Starks have ruled the North for over 12,000 years." She said simply. "As for lifespan… we live to around 200 to 300 years, thanks to modern medicine and technology."
So around the lifespan of a Quarian then. Tevos thought, then felt the color drain from her face as she registered the first half of the woman's answer. "12,000 years?" She asked. Goddess… this woman's family has ruled for longer than the Citadel Council has existed… assuming she's telling the truth.
"Give or take a few thousand." The Queen replied, sounding apathetic to the conversation. "We have ruled since the Long Night, after Bran the Builder led the people of the North to victory against the Night's King." She explained.
"How do you command that… Beast, so effectively?" Sparatus asked… demanded really.
"Frost?" The Queen reached out a hand and petted the furred Varren on the top of the head, actually giving the tiniest of smiles. "He is my companion. He is not my pet, nor am I his Mistress. He and I have been together since birth, and he and I balance each other."
The Beast huffed, and Tevos swore she could see a smile on the damned thing's face.
The Queen turned her pale, emotionless eyes onto Sparatus, "Please do him the courtesy of referring to him by name; as I do to you, and you to me."
"Of course." Tevos said, cutting off Sparatus before he could make any crude comments about how the Queen saw a mere animal as a friend. "Now, might we ask if you have read the treaty terms?"
"We have." The Queen replied, still showing no emotion.
"And have you agreed to it?" Sparatus asked, clearly eager for the humans to say no so as to give him an excuse to continue the war.
"There are provisions we will not tolerate." The Queen stated bluntly, setting a data slate onto the table and tapped it with one finger. "These… 'Spectres' and their unlimited authority cannot be tolerated. My Lords and the People would demand my head were I to allow this." She tilted her head. "They have rights that are granted to them by the gods, and not even I dare to trample over them."
Hmph, just an excuse to prevent the Spectres from spying on you. Tevos thought angrily, but grudgingly acknowledged the clever turn of phrase. Clever really, she makes it seem as if she's doing it for her people and not for herself.
"Next, these ship limitations." Here, her eyes did narrow somewhat. "Frankly, I find them to be idiotic for all parties involved; not just my own people."
That wasn't the response Tevos was expecting, and neither was Sparatus it seemed, as he asked; "What do you mean?" Sounding more intrigued as opposed to angry.
"You limit yourself and your ability to protect your own people." The queen stated, her whispering, musical yet monotonic voice picking up an undercurrent of urgency. "You Turians are tasked to police your own borders, and the Asari, and the Salarians; yes?"
"Er… Correct?" Idris replied, sounding confused as to where this was going.
"Then all this treaty does is limit the Turians ability to build more ships to protect those borders." The Queen pointed out, and Tevos felt her mind go blank before rage overtook it.
NO! She thought furiously, keeping her composure only barely; That was the whole point of the treaty, and now she's just picking it apart!
"The Turians are more than capable of outproducing my own people's ability to make Battleships… or Dreadnaughts as you call them." The Queen pointed out. "What is holding you back, is that the Asari and Salarians are not producing more Dreadnaughts; which stops you from building more."
Then she shrugged and added, "And what stops slave states like the Batarian hegemony from violating those treaties in secret?"
Sparatus opened and closed his mouth for a moment, then looked at Tevos and Idris, then back at the Queen. "The Treaty of Farixen… You signing it in exchange for peace will be waived for the time being while my own government discusses it."
Bitch! Tevos thought, glancing at Sparatus and seeing the glee in the Turian's eyes. He's been waiting for an opportunity to have the Treaty raked over the coals, and she's given it to him.
"Very well then." Tevos managed to get out in an even voice. "What of the rest of the terms?"
The Queen tapped her finger again. "A White Peace… shall be satisfactory; on two conditions."
"And what would it be?" Idris asked, while Tevos braced for the inevitable request that they gain a council seat; mentally preparing ways to tell them no.
"I want war reps to pay for the damages to the colony and to compensate the families that have lost their loved ones… and I want Desolas Arterius."
Tevos blinked, "What?" She asked, but was drowned out by Sparatus.
"Absolutely not!" The Turian Councilor roared. "General Arterius is a high ranking member of the Turian military, and an upstanding member of the Turian society! I will not hand him over to you for some fake trial so he can be imprisoned for life in the name of 'justice'!"
Tevos sighed and rubbed her temples. If that is what they want, then we shall give it to them; it's reasonable enough-
"I will not imprison him." The Queen said, her voice sounding more like a hiss than a whisper now. "I will take his head."
Tevos was taken aback, and immediately shook her head, "While the war reps are more than reasonable, we cannot give over a citizen of the Council races to be executed without-"
"HE KILLED MY SON!"
Tevos leaned back in her chair, and gave a strangled noise as all words in her throat died a violent death; all the blood draining from her face, and she had to fight her baser instincts to throw up a biotic shield and simply run.
She could see out of the corner of her eye, Sparatus gulped heavily, and visibly deflated and cowered in his chair.
Idris simply gave a croaking sound and blinked rapidly while his face flushed heavily.
Tevos saw the Spectre guards all set their hands on their pistols, and take several steps back; all of them showing naked fear in their eyes.
Even the Queen's own guards looked terrified, as all of them broke their stone faced stoicism as they each took a step back and flinched at the sudden outburst of fury from the woman they were charged to protect.
Only the Direwolf seemed unafraid, and in fact had stood and nudged his mistress' hand off the table; which Tevos only just now realized she had smashed her fist into… and cracked it.
The Queen herself looked like a literal demon for a moment, her pale, emotionless eyes now flaring and showing unknowable fury; her face contorted into a fierce scowl as she glared at Tevos, Sparatus, and Idris in turn.
The news crew, which had been standing off in the corner, was deathly silent; and Tevos was pretty sure that one of the crew had soiled themselves.
Slowly, the Queen of Winter took her fist off the table, absently plucking pieces of wood from her armored gauntlet. She took a breath, and her voice resumed its whispering and musical tone; but there was a palpable level of fury undercutting it now.
"I have been called many things… Councilor." The woman stated simply. "'Emotionless Bitch Queen', 'Roose the Traitor reborn', 'The Bolton Stark'..." She tilted her head and stared into Tevos' soul with those ghostly, pale eyes. "But the one that has stuck the most, is one that I think you should hear."
She leaned forwards across the table, "'The Whispering Wolf', for I do not howl, I do not sing, I do not growl, I do not snarl; I plot and wait, hiding in the bushes for the right moment to strike." Then… she smiled, and it looked as if death itself was smiling at the Asari Councilor. "I may be a Stark… Counselor… I have honor, and I care deeply about my people."
Here, she tilted her head again, "But I am also a Bolton… All of the Kings and Queens of Winter since the War of the Five Kings, and the Second Long Night, have had Bolton blood in them; the former rivals to the Starks for the Throne of Winter, before Queen Sansa the First killed Ramsey the Bastard, the last of the Boltons."
Her smile seemed to grow vindictive. "Do you know what the Red Kings did before the Kings of Winter overthrew them?" She asked.
Tevos swallowed heavily, and as much as she wanted to be embarrassed by the quiver in her voice; she was too busy trying not to run away screaming to really care. "N-n-no. I do not."
"They flayed their prisoners alive." The Queen replied, her eyes glittering with glee. "'A naked man has few secrets. A flayed man has none', as Roose the Traitor was fond of saying."
She blinked, but did not break her gaze from the three Councilors. "But fortunately for you… I am only part Bolton. I am mostly Stark in all the ways that matter." The Queen straightened her posture then, her armor clinking as she did so. "I shall grant you this boon. He will have a trial, and it shall be a fair one."
Her smile grew wider, "It shall be Trial by Combat. It will be until either I yield… or he is dead." The Queen's eyes glittered, and suddenly Tevos was wishing that they would go back to being pale and lifeless. "I shall even give him a month to train on the proper use of swords, give him a fighting chance."
The Queen turned to Sparatus and her eyes turned cold again, "Which is more than a chance he gave to my son."
And with those words, she turned and strode out of the Council chambers; her guards quickly formed up around her and formed a defensive ring around her, her beast prowling after them silently.
And all she left behind was dead silence and terror.
Wrex was amused with watching the deliberations between the human Queen and the Councilors.
Granted, he was somewhat unsettled by the whispering, musical, and yet monotonic way she talked… and her eyes as well, if he was being honest; but he had been expecting something… more from the race that had given the Turians a very bloody nose for the first time in centuries.
Then came her outburst.
Wrex knew the old saying, 'Hell hath no fury like a female scorned'; along with the classic, 'Never stand between a mother and her pup'. And he knew that this human Queen would burn down the galaxy if it meant avenging her lost pup.
He had been sitting in a booth, listening more to the patrons than to the broadcast; since everyone was watching it with rapt attention.
"Look at those tits and ass, she puts a Quarian to shame; even with that armor." A batarian.
"They look like a buncha pussies, how the hell did the Hierarchy lose to these bastards?" A turian.
"Bah! They'll submit to the council, we'll see." An asari.
Then the Queen screamed. "HE KILLED MY SON!"
The change from the whispering monotone to the roaring bellow actually caused Wrex to choke on his drink slightly in surprise; while all the patrons who'd been making lewd and disparaging comments all went silent as a tomb.
Wrex now was paying very close attention to the screen, and he could see that the Councilors were collectively trying not to piss themselves; as were the Spectres, and even the human Queen's own guards.
The Talking heads had gone silent as well, and Wrex narrowed his eyes as he saw that she had actually cracked the table. Impressive little pyjak. The Battlemaster grudgingly admitted, even as he watched the screen.
"I have been called many things… Councilor." The woman stated simply. "'Emotionless Bitch Queen', 'Roose the Traitor reborn', 'The Bolton Stark'... But the one that has stuck the most, is one that I think you should hear."
Wrex tilted his head in curiosity. What do they call you I wonder. He mused, knowing that a Battlemaster like this human Queen would have a nickname.
"'The Whispering Wolf', for I do not howl, I do not sing, I do not growl, I do not snarl; I plot and wait, hiding in the bushes for the right moment to strike." Then… she smiled, and it looked as if death itself was smiling. "I may be a Stark… Counselor… I have honor, and I care deeply about my people."
Wrex couldn't help but shiver.
"But I am also a Bolton… All of the Kings and Queens of Winter since the War of the Five Kings, and the Second Long Night, have had Bolton blood in them; the former rivals to the Starks for the Throne of Winter, before Queen Sansa the First killed Ramsey the Bastard, the last of the Boltons."
Her smile seemed to grow vindictive. "Do you know what the Red Kings did before the Kings of Winter overthrew them?" The human Battlemaster asked.
Wrex actually smirked as the camera switched back to the Asari councilor; who looked as if she was trying not to shit herself. "N-n-no. I do not."
"They flayed their prisoners alive."
Wrex actually choked on his drink again on hearing that. Only the Batarians and the Krogan had done something like that whenever they ruled; and even then, none of them had been stupid enough to brag about it.
"But fortunately for you… I am only part Bolton. I am mostly Stark in all the ways that matter." She straightened up, her armor clinking as she did so. "I shall grant you this boon. He will have a trial, and it shall be a fair one."
Her smile grew wider, "It shall be Trial by Combat. It will be until either I yield… or he is dead."
Wrex had stopped listening at this point, and was deep in thought now.
Perhaps… This female has a lot of Krogan blood in her. Perhaps she can be of some use to me. He mused. Or perhaps… The Krogan can be of use to her; and she can be of use to us. He nodded to himself, even as chatter in the bar slowly began to pick up again; while the talking heads seemed to recover somewhat, and were now doing what they did best by filling in the gaps with pointless talk.
He stood from his seat and tossed a credit chit onto the table.
He had work to do, but first, he wanted to see this trial by combat.
Arya Stark the II stared at her helmet as she sat in her room, clad only in her smallclothes as she ran through the events of the day.
Logical… She was determined to be logical.
Fact: The Council's demand for them to sign the Treaty of Farixen was detrimental to both the United Kingdom and the Citadel Council themselves.
Fact: The Asari, Tevos, was clearly the puppet master manipulating things behind the scenes. She would need to keep a close eye one her.
Fact: She had fucked up royally… she had allowed her temper, the wolf's blood, to get the better of her when she had exploded.
Arya closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her helmet, feeling a tear slip down her face in spite of her best efforts to stop it. She would be the first to admit, she wasn't… good with emotions; particularly with expressing them in what could be considered normal ways.
She was always determined to be logical, but there were always times when logic would fail her.
Like trying to deal with her eldest son's death.
Arya hissed a loud curse and threw her helmet at the bulkhead, leaving a dent in the metal wall. She frowned as she heard a loud sob, before her eyes widened as she realized that she was the one who was crying.
She sat back down on her bed and held her face in her hands.
On a logical level, she knew why she was feeling this way; it was perfectly normal in the case of a loved one's death to feel a form of emotional distress. But Arya normally didn't feel… anything, most of the time at least.
There had always been times when she did feel something, such as when her son had been born; she had felt genuine joy and love, something that had caught her totally unawares. Her husband had needed to explain to her what she was feeling at that moment.
'Minor to Moderate Schizoid personality disorder' was what she had been diagnosed with as a child.
She knew that she rarely experienced emotions, and ironically the two emotions she experienced the most were guilt and sadness. Sadness, because she wasn't normal; and guilt that she couldn't feel or express emotion the same way her younger brothers and sisters could.
It was a closely kept secret among the Royal Family and the cabinet; but everyone had always known that something was wrong with her.
Arya wondered if the gods had simply given her a limited number of people in the universe that she could love or even attach herself to; and that was her direwolf, her husband, and their children.
She sobbed again.
On a clinical level, she knew that she was in the throes of grief and rage; but her mind and body were simply not prepared for it.
Suddenly feeling very cold and shaking all over, Arya tore off her smallclothes and rushed into the bathroom; turning on the hot water and sitting at the base of her shower, still sobbing and shaking.
She turned her gaze to the mirror above the sink, and she did not see an ice cold queen; she only saw a sad, scared, and lonely little woman. She hated it… and yet, it made her feel a little better; to know that she could in fact feel some emotions.
She wasn't just Roose Bolton reborn.
I'll kill him, Ned. She vowed for her son. I will avenge you.
It was to take place in the Citadel, in the Presidium in full view of everyone.
It would be streamed live across all channels, and anyone with an extranet connection would be able to see it easily enough. 45 Trillion people lived in the Galaxy, and according to her own sources, about 10 Trillion were watching the live streams being broadcasted across all the different sites.
Tevos knew that she needed to be as stern and as commanding, and yet still remain motherly and kind as possible; not only because of all the eyes on her, but also for herself.
She was loath to admit it, but Queen Arya terrified her.
Tevos had no doubts that the human would find a way to kill her if given the chance and the reason to do so; hence, the reason for this little show trial. It was to placate the humans, yes, Arterius being an unfortunate sacrifice in this effort; but also to satiate their Queen's bloodlust long enough to get her off the Citadel, and immediately begin finding ways to kill her.
So far, the results weren't good.
She had been stunned to discover that she was universally loved by her people, and universally respected by the other great powers on their homeworld. They had already begun trying to recruit assassins to try and end her; but any human assassin they contacted immediately hung up when they told them the quarry.
In frustration, she had demanded an explanation for one of the few that hadn't hung up fast enough.
"Simple. The Whispering Bitch is too tough to kill. She was stabbed in the gut with a dagger once in an assassination attempt. She not only shrugged it off, she pulled the dagger out and stabbed one assassin to death with it; while beheading the other with her sword with only one hand." The man had explained.
"And even if she were to die, you'd have her whole family and their subjects braying for blood; and the rest of the Countries of Planetos would happily give you up to be beheaded, because they respect her and the Starks too much to not do so."
So that meant that they were stuck with her for the foreseeable future, which in turn meant that they had to placate the psychopath for the time being.
Still… one life for potentially millions or billions is better for us all I suppose. Tevos reflected sadly, even as Desolas Arterius was led into the Presidium by his brother.
He was dressed in ceremonial armor; which was Turian medieval armor that had been modernized so that it could be used in the modern day. The man looked distinctly uncomfortable wearing it, but he did wear it well.
He walked up to Sparatus, and Tevos had to strain her ears to catch what was said between the two.
"Look after my brother."
"Of course."
"...Is there no other way?"
"The humans call for blood, in spite of how we protested that what you did was normal."
"So it is either my death, or her death, or millions die."
"I am afraid so… may the Spirits assist you old friend."
Tevos fought down a scowl as Desolas put on his helmet and walked into the center of the Presidium; the crowd of onlookers and news crews deathly silent as he drew a simple Turian arming sword, giving a few experimental swings, before he turned to face his opponent.
Tevos had to fight down a blanche of horror as Queen Arya stepped forward.
She was wearing the same armor as before, and her raven black hair had been bound up into a series of braids; but now she was wearing her helmet, and Tevos could not help but compare it to that of a skull.
Her furred beast sat behind her, while the Queen herself drew her blade.
Tevos winced, mainly due to the size of the weapon. It was much broader, and much longer than General Arterius' own blade; and it was clear that the Queen knew how to use it.
Desolas Arterius had done sword fighting as a hobby.
The Queen had trained and fought with her sword since she was young, and had certainly killed with it; judging from the way she swung it about with practiced ease. The odds were not good for the General's survival, and everyone knew it.
Tevos was jared from her thoughts, when Arterius shouted, "I want it known to all present and watching! This is nothing more than a show trial to satiate the bloodlust of this… dictator! I do this for all Turians, so they do not have to die facing this monster."
Tevos resisted the urge to face palm, "Of course he won't go down without a final insult." She muttered to herself.
She expected the Queen to either blow it off with that creepy monotonic indifference; or to explode with rage again, but instead she did something that surprised Tevos… and everyone else present for that matter.
"Monster?" The woman asked, her whispering voice leaking offense. "How am I the monster? You took away one of the few things I care about in this life." She hissed, even as she settled into a combat stance. "I feel nothing most days, yet I yearn for the ones I do feel emotion. Do you know the torture it is? To feel emotion some days, and none at all others?"
She and Arterius slowly circled each other, the Queen tilting her head back and forth.
"I feel… nothing, most days." She repeated, "But when I am with my children… I can feel happiness, joy, pride." She stopped circling, and rolled her shoulders. "Now… I have felt grief."
Tevos' eyes widened, Oh Goddess, she's a sociopath or a psychopath.
The Queen dashed forward faster than what Tevos could track, and suddenly there was a loud clang! that filled the air.
"I am doing this for all the mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and sons and daughters you have taken from this world; because of your ambition!" Queen Arya hissed, batting aside Arterius's blade almost casually as the general attempted to slash at her arms.
CLANG!
The General was forced to his knees attempting to stop the blow, and his sword actually started to bend somewhat.
CLANG!
This one nearly threw the sword from his grip, and Arterius stumbled backwards; even as the Queen charged forwards in a flash of black, gray, and gold, her wolf pelt-cape flapping behind her.
Clang!
The two of them locked blades, and Desolus moved to grapple with her, clearly hoping to use his superior strength to try and wrestle her to the ground and potentially kill her.
Sheeeeiiiiik!
Tevos cringed at the mournful peel as the two blades rubbed together; even as the Queen dodged his attempts to grapple with her with almost contemptuous ease. Then Tevos saw what the Queen wanted to do.
Tevos wanted to avert her eyes, but she couldn't; they were fixed forward as history unfolded in front of her.
Snick!Crash-Clang!
Desolas gasped loudly as the Stark Queen's broadsword sliced right through his armor and his wrists; severing both his hands from his arms, and his severed limbs and sword fell to the ground.
Desolas fell to his knees as blood poured from his wrists, staring slack jawed and rapidly falling into shock; not even screaming in pain as he knelt in front of the Queen of Winter. His armor immediately worked to seal the injuries and injected painkillers into him; but his wrists continued to drip blood at an alarming rate.
Stark simply stepped aside, avoiding the spray of blood as she stared down at Arterius; then she looked up at the cameras and the deathly silent crowd for a moment, then back at the now handless General.
She set the edge of her blade upon the General's neck, and regarded him for a very long moment; even as her furred beast walked up next to her. She looked back at the Wolf, then back down at the General; and Tevos waited for her to take the man's head as she had promised to do.
For a long moment, she stood frozen, then to Tevos' shock; the Queen slowly lowered her blade and rested her chin on the pommel.
"Everything I have done… I have done for my son, my heir, and for the people of the North. They scream for blood… for vengeance… for justice."
The Queen's whispering, musical, yet monotonic voice carried through the presidium. A pin could have dropped, and one would have heard it, that was how quiet it was.
"And yet… as I stand here, all I can see is my son; begging me to spare you. My father; looking down at me, expecting me to do the honorable thing." The Queen looked down. "I may have Bolton blood in me; and it is the part of me screaming to take your head, to flay you alive for all that you've done."
She spun her sword around, and placed the tip under Desolas' left mandible, forcing him to turn his head towards her. "And yet… the Stark in me demands that I spare you." She looked at her beast for a moment. "This was not a trial… I see that now. You're just a man who has made mistakes; just as I have."
Tevos' eyes widened, Is she…? Not daring to hope just yet.
"My ancestor, Eddard Stark, the man who all Kings of Winter look to and emulate… he said this once." The Queen looked at the crowd, then back at Desolas, not breaking eye contact with him.
"'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.'" She quoted, before finally lowering her blade.
"And as I look upon you Desolas Arterius, I do not see a man who deserves to die. A man who deserves punishment… yes, but not death." She spun her sword once, then stabbed it into the floor of the presidium.
Tevos' fought down a gasp, That sword! It just cut through Prothean Metal like it was paper!
The Queen dug into a pouch on her belt, and pulled out what appeared to be dressing; while Desolas seemed to be starting to lose consciousness from blood loss, but he still made an effort to stay awake.
The Queen bandaged the wounds, and then said, "I, Arya of the House of Stark, Queen of Winter, the Trident, and the Mountain; hereby declare the blood feud between the United Kingdom of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale, and the Turian Hierarchy to be over. The blood price has been paid."
There was a pause, then she turned and grabbed her sword and sheathed it; even as a pair of medics rushed forward and began treating the now handless general.
Queen Arya started to walk back to her ship, then she paused and turned back to face Tevos, Sparatus, and Idris. "I hope for a prosperous relationship between our peoples." Then she turned, and walked away.
And with that, death left the Citadel; and prosperity arrived.
A/N: -This will almost certainly be a one shot… though I might do something with it later. We shall see I suppose. A TV Tropes page would be loved though; and please review and let me know what y'all think of this.
As it stands, this will be a long author's note, as it will explain things I can't explain in other chapters.
-Queen Arya's Armor is based off of For Honor's Warmonger. It uses Black Armor Material, the Ironwood Paint scheme, and all her standards use the Crystal Squid 1 pattern. The armor itself is the Immersabilis Helm, Immersabilis Chest, and Horkos Tyrannos Arms. The only difference is that the cape is a Wolf's Pelt instead of being made from normal cloth.
The Broadsword, "Blizzard", is based off the Warden's Longsword (also from For Honor); though it obviously has more Broadsword characteristics like a wider blade and longer hilt. It uses the Ogdens Revenge Blade, the Aleister Hilt, and the Glacialis Sailor Guard.
Her Direwolf, Frost, very much resembles Greywind; and yes, I did make him just as intelligent as a human. Personally, I'm not the biggest fan of intelligent animals; but there are exceptions to this of course. The dragons from Eragon being one example, and the Direwolves from GOT being potentially that intelligent appeals to me.
-I tried to find a sort of balancing act where Arya certainly has Roose Bolton's mannerisms and appearances; but she's still a fundamentally good person, even if she struggles to show it.
I think I did an okay job all things considered.
-The beginning was of course some history text, and I think that Jon's true parentage was probably something that was taken to the grave; mainly because of all the trouble it would cause.
-The Queens/Kingsguard are based pretty heavily off the IRL Queensguard in the UK; just with a more Northern/Westeros flair. The uniforms pretty much look like the East India Trading Company Marine Uniforms from Pirates of the Caribbean 3; just with Gray replacing the Navy Blue, and… Navy Blue replacing the Red.
With that said, as archaic as they may appear; one must remember that as with the IRL Queensguard, these guardsmen are Special Forces Soldiers equipped with modern weaponry and K-Barriers. So while they may look like pushovers, they are anything but.
-I like Queen Arya, mainly because I see a little bit of myself in her. The front that everyone sees is not an act, for the most part. She genuinely is creepy and cold to everyone. But then there's the part of her that no one sees; the part of her that allows her to be a good person. And honestly… when you take away her difficulty with experiencing and expressing emotions; you just get a sad, lonely woman who just wants a normal life. It really is something, huh?
-If it seemed like I was pulling Arya sparing Desolas out of my ass, I sorta did; but while it was initially spur of the moment, I kinda realized something. How much more would it smooth things over in the galaxy if Arya didn't kill Desolas? More importantly, how much would it smooth things over if Arya could show that she wasn't some heartless monster to the rest of the Galaxy?
See, even Tevos and Sparatus (arguably, the two people that would dislike Arya the most) could recognize that Arya's reasons and desire for killing Desolas were legitimate. Under other circumstances, they could even sympathize with her; and wouldn't blame her for wanting revenge.
No parent should ever have to bury their child, and Arya has to do that thanks to Desolas. It was not shown, but Desolas killed young Prince Eddard in a pretty awful way; in that the Prince tried to surrender, but Desolas simply executed him and then killed all of the Prince's guards out of spite.
So does Desolas deserve to die? Yes, but Arya is very much looking like a monster to both her own people and to the galaxy at large due to the way she's been going about it.
It's both pragmatism and genuine remorse that stays Arya's hand here.
Pragmatism, because she knows how she looks to the rest of the galaxy; because while she may be beloved by her people, they are still scared of her and the resemblance she has to Roose Bolton the Traitor. So her sparing Desolas does show them that however much her Bolton blood may run hot; her Stark blood is what governs and leads her.
And it's remorse, because Arya knows that what she is doing is wrong. She knows her father and her ancestors are watching her at that moment, and she can feel them judging her; and finding her wanting in terms of character. She can hear them whispering (metaphorically speaking) that she isn't a true Stark; that she is not showing honor or mercy.
At that moment, she is resembling Theon Stark; The Hungry Wolf, the one Stark that was more terrifying and disliked than Arya Stark, The Whispering Wolf, is now.
And it terrifies her at what she is becoming.
As I said, Arya 'The Whispering Wolf' Stark is a lonely, broken woman that just wants to be normal; and doesn't know how to be.
She won't be normal, but she can still be good…