Chapter Seven: The She-Wolves of Winterfell.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by George R. R. Martin, or his publishing company, or HBO.
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Much had passed the party of travellers by between Barrowton and Riverrun. At Moat Cailin they paused to examine the beginnings of something grand. Engineers were already beginning the motions of preparing to repair the historical fortress. A small army of Manderly Knights and Ryswell soldiers had coalesced as one. Just slightly beyond, as far south as any Stark had gone in years, they struggled through the swamps where guarded thickets were being cleared away to make a road. Greywater Watch exposed the uplifted spirits of House Reed where the young Jojen had recovered from his unwellness. The pretty Lady Meera was invited to join Arya's blossoming court. Sansa could tell how pleased her sister was to have such a skilled warrioress to practice with. Jojen Reed was to travel North to Moat Cailin where Shiera promised he would become a squire to Marlon Manderly. Why Shiera was inspired to curry their favour, Sansa did not know, though it certainly was not born of compassionate generosity.
They all were forced to stop at the Twins for one very uncomfortable evening. Walder Frey had groped his much younger wife Annara Farring incessantly while making not-so-subtly mocking comments about the Tullys, Starks, and Arryns. Particularly regarding how they all refused to wed into his bloodline. As though that were not repugnant enough he set his many daughters upon Robb while Sansa herself was forced to dance through a tidal wave of discourteous, forward flirtations from weasel-faced Freys. Truly the most uncomfortable moment had been when Black Walder Frey, clearly smitten with the Targaryen's beauty, publically proposed to Shiera as they were leaving. 'There is no reason to feel embarrassed,' The Targaryen princess spoke wisely to the Starks as they rode away, 'The Freys presented you three with a very important lesson. Rule weakly as Lord Tully has done, allow vassals to run amok as we just witnessed, and prepare yourselves for the consequences."
Still, she assured them, they would be staying at Seagard on the way back to Winterfell instead. At Raventree Hall they received news that Lady Shella Whent, the last heir of Harrenhal apparently, had died from some sort of sickness. Between the gory details which involved talk of bloodied eyeballs, Shiera whispered to her that it would be a prominent issue in the discussions at Riverrun. Before they left the Blackwoods, Lord Tytos sent his sons North like Howland Reed so that they could join an Order based upon the the Old Faith of the Forest.
None of these grand, Southron castles prepared Sansa for the first glimpse of her mother's ancestral home. Banners spread out all across Riverrun though not for war. No, instead it was to show that every Lord of the slightest prestige, influence, and rank had journeyed to the Tully seat for this grand conference. The Royces, Waynwoods, Belmonts, Redforts, Templetons, Mootons, Pipers, Vances, Darrys, Freys, and even a few Crownlands Houses were all present. With them came merchants, performers, artisans, and whores. What captured Sansa's gaze were the tallest banners that swayed, however. Tully's trout, Arryn's falcon, and the Stark's direwolf swayed alongside the Lion of House Lannister. Above them all the crowned stag of the royal family billowed from the battlements of Riverrun.
"Why is the King here? The Rogares only intended to deal with the North, Vale, and Riverlands, I thought?" Arya asked while her new handmaidens whispered nervously to one another.
"Wrong questions sister," Sansa clutched so tightly at her reins that both hands where whiter than snow. "Why are the Lannisters here, and why have they towed the figurehead of their power along too? What statement are they trying to make?"
Arya scrunched her nose in response while thinking of a reply. "Well, this meeting is about increasing opportunities for our relatives. Do they wish to prevent our grandfather and uncle from taking loans with the Rogares?"
"They could care less about the loans," Shiera interjected Sansa's lesson sharply, taking charge of Arya's education. The auburn-haired beauty twisted to stare back at her tutor. For the first time since she had met her, Lady Seastar seemed uncertain. Though not regarding the intentions of the royal family. "Tywin Lannister is clearly intent on checking the increased power that would come from implementations of such large sums. We shall soon learn who has a greater influence over the court. The King's Hand, or his Queen's family."
That was far from inspiring. Still they rode onwards towards a now uncertain destiny. They arrived into the castle's large courtyard to find a respectable, yet far from proper, welcoming party. Standing at the entrance to Riverrun's keep were two old men, a younger man who looked quite like her mother, and Drazenko Rogare. Feeling the wind escape her lungs at the sight of her handsome admirer she nervously twitched the wrist which proudly wore his token. Beside him was a beautiful woman with exquisite Valyrian colouring. They approached slowly, her, Robb, and Arya, while Shiera marched forth with graceful exuberance. The Great Bastard curtseyed daintily before, who Sansa presumed to be, Jon Arryn. "Lord Hand, it is an honour for you to have accepted our offer to partake in terms of join economic stimulation between these three great kingdoms," The woman articulated herself splendidly well as always.
The man possessed an aquiline nose and a friendly smile. "Thank you for convincing me to engage Master Rogare's services. I look forward to seeking the wisdom of such a clearly talented mind as yours, Lady Seastar." He was lacking some of his teeth, but Jon Arryn seemed to make up for it with thrice the cleverness. Only a special sort of man could look beyond a woman's tits towards her mettle for economic inspiration.
"Lord Tully," The Great Bastard turned to their host, "I take great pleasure in introducing you to your grandchildren."
Just like that it seemed to be their time to shine. Sansa swept forth as regally as possible while Arya followed the ministrations in her own charming manner. Robb paused courteously only to blink in surprise when the rickety-looking man hobbled his way down the steps towards them with surprising agility. He pulled the heir of Winterfell in for a tight embrace first, then Sansa, and finally bent to kiss Arya on her inflamed cheeks. "You are a near-replica of your mother," He paused with a twinkle in his Tully-blue eyes, "Though much prettier. A great, Riverland beauty!" Despite having tried for so long to become a Stark the Northern bannermen could respect Sansa slipped back into the role of a courtly, Southron maiden easily enough.
"Thank you my Lord," She smiled winningly, "Yet I fear that I am a Northern beauty if anything."
He chuckled, "Clever I bet. Just as clever as your mother hopefully." The man turned to gaze at the young man standing behind him. "Greet your nephew and nieces already Edmure! For the sake of the Seven, give them a tour of the seat of their ancestors." With that they were pressed into the company of their Uncle Edmure. He was not unintelligent, nor was the man unkind. Simply put it meant that they were forced to withstand the inescapable presence of Johanna Rogare. She flirted profusely with the Tully heir whilst following him about the tour. Sansa could already tell what the girl's ploy was, and wondered when the Rogares had gone from courting Kings to Lords. The match had firm legs to stand upon if Sansa were being honest. Even if the Lannisters managed to remove Jon Arryn from the loan negotiations they could not forbid the Tullys from doing business with their heir's goodbrother. Nevertheless they would certainly object to Sansa's ambitions for her grandfather's lands.
She found herself sharing a spacious room with her sister that had allegedly once belonged to their mother. Instead of talking with the girl, or any of the Ladies-in-Waiting who flitted about busily Sansa sat at the desk. Reading over her many personal papers full of detailed plans for the Riverlands.
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Arya found herself in a very uncomfortable situation. She was certainly nowhere near prepared to match wits with Kings, nor the likes of Tywin Lannister. Still, the girl would have preferred taking such a risk if it meant being able to do anything other than stand silently. 'You must learn,' Shiera often said during their lessons on sums and courtesies, 'Before I trust you to speak freely.' Silence was her greatest weakness though. Seated at the spot of honor above the Starks was King Robert. He bore a thunderous facial expression, many stones worth of weight, and a wild beard. Beside him the Queen looked every bit the golden beauty of Lannister that they spoke of, yet there was something cold to her features. In varying degrees of prominence there was Arya's Lord grandfather, uncle, Jon Arryn, as well as the Rogares.
"Your grace," Shiera spoke after curtseying deeply, "I present to you the children of Lord Stark of W-."
"You can't divert my gaze that easily," Robert Baratheon bellowed with a suddenly red face, "No, I only have eyes for you, you Targaryen whore." The man stood revealing just how fat he actually was. Arya recalled learning of Aegon the Unworthy. She could not help but realize with a sinking dread that her father's old friend was nothing more than a corrupt pudge of flesh. "I have wondered why Ned would shelter one of the bastards who killed her. Who murdered my sweet Lyanna." A hungry, hateful expression flashed through his piggy eyes, "Show us the body that bewitched him to such foolishness." He turned to one of the Kingsguard, "STRIP HER TRANT. YOU PATHETIC WHORESON!"
"Robert!" Jon Arryn had stood long ago, now he spoke in protest, "This woman had nothing to do with the Rebellion. Ned is a man of his word! He has proven to us all countless times that Lady Seastar was found in the Crypts of Winterfell! That she is exactly who she says she is."
"Then she should be burnt alive," The Queen interjected suddenly, "For performing the darkest of sorcery."
Still, while they argued Meryn Trant ambled forth towards Shiera. Robb pulled his blade free whilst stepping in front of the Great Bastard. "Stand aside, boy," The lecherous bastard called out, drawing his own steel. The Stark guards stood defiantly with their weapons brandished alongside the Tully garrison. Sansa slipped backwards to herd the panicking group of Ladies-in-Waiting like a proper Lady would. At the high table Lord Arryn was shouting at the King while her Tully relatives argued with a bald man who had golden whiskers. Tywin Lannister, she noted absentmindedly in the heat of the moment. In a shocking display of excellent swordsmanship Robb managed to disarm his opponent prior to knocking him over.
A handsome, golden-haired knight who must have been the Kingslayer slipped forth in response to the development. "STOP THIS MADNESS, you stupid sheep fuckers!" She caught every eye in the room much to her embarrassment. Though Arya knew she needed to intervene. There was simply no way her brother was capable of stopping such a great swordsman. The Lannisters could not be allowed to spoil such a splendid opportunity for her relatives with bloodshed. "We are the children of Lord Eddard Stark, the grandchildren of Lord Hoster Tully, and the nieces and nephews of Lord Arryn. Lady Shiera broke bread and salt before entering these walls. She claims the protection of Winterfell. Of House Stark." Grey eyes clashed with Tywin Lannister's cunning green. The Old Lion was the truest threat to their family, not the fat man they all called King. "To harm her you will need to harm us all in turn. Then you must be prepared to face the wrath of the North."
"The North?!" The Queen sneered with a mocking chortle. "Your father's frozen waste poses no threat to my Kingly husband. He will exact justice upon this scheming sorceress while the Kingsguard escort you away."
"Speak not to my kin in such a manner!" Edmure stood while Johanna Rogare who sat beside him whispered with her brother.
"Sit you fool," Hoster chastised the impetuous man back down, only to rise himself. Tully-blue eyes glared at the King. "All of Riverrun's might shall be brought against King's Landing should any blood be shed beneath these walls. So long as Lady Shiera goes no further than the Riverlands she will remain underneath my stalwart protection."
"I cannot condone such an injustice, your grace," Jon Arryn called out. "I will resign from my post, and follow my goodfather in seeking retribution should Lady Shiera be harmed in any way."
Silence ensued as everyone stood stock still. The King glared with a purple face at the beautiful Great Bastard. "Perhaps we can all agree that the threat posed by Lady Seastar would be neutralized," Tywin Lannister spoke manipulatively, "By marrying her to a less threatening spouse. A Plumm, perhaps? Maybe a Frey?"
"Need I remind you, your grace," Shiera Seastar stepped forth with all of her typically majestic glamour, "That all of my holdings have been returned to me by the Free City of Lys. I am not merely a Targaryen, but a woman of great influence across the Narrow Sea. If you attempt to tarnish my prospects in any way I shall bring the wrath of the Lysene upon Westeros. As will the Rogares." In a graceful movement she bent to both knees, lace gown tightening sumptuously across her erotic body. "There is no desire in my heart for such a disastrous war, however. I wish to prosper beneath your peaceful reign, my King. Thusly, I offer my fealty to you, so long as I am given all of the protection the Crowned Stag has to offer any other vassal."
She clasped both hands looking quite like an unearthly creature. Arya imagined that the ordering of the Targaryen Princess's execution would make her into a saint. "I have no choice, do I?" Robert Baratheon snarled down at her, "Unless I wish to butcher half of my Seven Kingdoms." He slammed a fist on the table. "You two," He pointed at Lord Arryn and Lord Tully, "Will be responsible if there is a 'Seastar' Rebellion of any sorts. Relay that message to your father as well, Starks."
Needless to say, none of the Stark delegates felt welcome enough to feast within the hall after such a lackluster reception.
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Officially, the King was too strained from the stress of having seen a Targaryen, alive, to attend the meeting. Unofficially, Sansa heard from Wylla Manderly that the pathetic bag of flabs had been heard copulating loudly within his chambers. The Queen was gone back to King's Landing for her children, reportedly unhappy that her husband refused to renege on Shiera Targaryen's sudden vassalship. With the woman had gone half the Kingsguard including Jaime Lannister. Now all that remained were Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister. The latter a largely mysterious threat to Sansa's deep inexperience. He would be dead-set against any of his neighboring kingdoms securing anymore influence beyond the Handship.
So it was perhaps no surprise to all who greeted her within a smaller feast room of Riverrun that she had dressed to impress. Sansa had learned much of womanly weapons from Shiera in their time together. Of course, that was not say she complied like a willow to the teachings. No, the girl need to be defiantly self-structured for an affair such as this one. She wore a provocatively cut Myrish cloth-of-gold, which Shiera often called tasteless, gown while the expensive necklace of black opals gifted to her by Drazenko Rogare covered any excess cleavage. Jeyne had spent half of the night twisting Sansa's long locks of auburn hair into a magnificent braid of large curls. Perfumed heavily, and swaying against her hips.
"My Lords. I apologize for the delay," She sunk into a deep curtsey towards all of the room's occupants, having purposefully arrived slightly late. Behind her flounced Wylla and Syggi in their finest, as Jeyne was preoccupied with a well-deserved rest. "You are dismissed," Sansa motioned delicately towards the cupbearer. The Ladies-in-Waiting took up the task instead with a remarkable degree of courtly elegance. Tully-blue eyes peered forth at her allies and adversaries who both filled a massive, circular table. The Tullys sat together with red faces, as though they were too angry to have even noticed her countenance. Arya who dressed proudly in Stark colours was sandwiched between Robb and Shiera with a Northern-style braid.
Sansa recalled how her sister had captured order in the Great Hall the previous evening. Shiera had pulled her aside to explain that it marked the successful passing of a first test. The eldest Stark daughter recalled having passed it herself, reprimanding Lord Glover in the most articulate of terms for insulting Lady Seastar. She wondered what her sister would contribute to the discussions now that she was allowed to speak in political matters rather than simply observe. Next to Robb was Jon Arryn who found himself in turn flanked closely by the Rogare siblings. Across from them all sat three important people that Sansa was still to meet personally, as well as one she was not familiar with at all. "Another child, Lady Seastar?" Tywin Lannister asked dismissively.
"Lady Sansa is no child," Jon Arryn addressed her in a warm tone, "She wrote me strongly convincing correspondences on the behalf of Master Rogare. This intelligent young Lady is nothing to scoff at Lord Lannister."
Interrupting them was a short man dressed only slightly less impeccably than herself. He stood to his laughably small height to grasp at Sansa's willowy wrist. "Lady Sansa. My name is Petyr Baelish." Those eyes made her uncomfortable, "You look ever so much like your mother." The man pressed his slimy lips to the back of her hand whilst the Tully men loosed their brimming rage.
"Do not dare to touch my niece," Ser Edmure bellowed with a red face, standing to both feet. He almost raised his sword in the air though Johanna Rogare stood to her own feet. The woman reached her fingers up so they could curl into his auburn locks. While Sansa distrusted the influence the young woman exerted over the Tully heir she could at least acknowledge that Edmure would gain much from her feminine wisdom. Edmure was no fool, and indeed quite chivalrous, though he remained irresponsible without a family to tether his better judgement in place. Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, removed his hand as slowly as possible from her own.
Fighting shivers she smiled sweetly at him, "Lord Baelish. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I apologize but I wish not to distract from these important discussions any longer." Relishing temporary freedom from his gaze she swept elegantly towards the open seat by her grandfather. Using gentle fingers she assisted the elderly man into his seat prior to giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Trust. Me." The beautiful young Lady whispered to him, hoping desperately that he would follow suit.
The Lord of Riverrun sat back with obvious reluctance as the talks began to commence again. Clearly, the Tullys did not like Lord Baelish, yet Lord Baelish had spoken almost reverently of her mother. The Lady of Winterfell had never mentioned the odious man, however, which showed he was far from her graces as well. No matter the reason behind it all Sansa cleverly decided that she would use his clear attraction for her as a weapon. No low-born, no-name such as himself arrived at the post of Master of Coin by lucky simple-mindedness. No, Tywin Lannister would rely heavily upon Lord Baelish's support, but Sansa would charm his tongue into knots.
"As I said, before the interruptions," Tywin stared imperiously at her and the Tullys, "Dealings with the Rogares poses a significant risk to the stability of Westeros. The crown possesses a healthy relationship with the Iron Bank. They will not take kindly to three of our kingdoms siding with these upstart penny-lenders."
"As I was articulating, prior to the interruptions, Lord Lannister," Johanna Rogare shocked them all by speaking against the former Hand, "We deal in far larger amounts than pennies. That is why the Iron Bank has, and always will be, so set upon seeing our demise."
"I refuse to speak of economic affairs with women," Grand Maester Pycelle howled between a yawn.
"Excellent," Shiera piped in at the moment with a deliciously wicked grin, "I refuse to deal with infirm, senile old fools." The man stuttered while she stared Tywin Lannister down with mirthful eyes. Solid emeralds were subjected to the heat of her fiery, mismatched eyes. "Just because Casterly Rock and King's Landing are able to withstand the Iron Bank's egregiously exploitative interest rates does not mean the rest of Westeros can. Frankly, after the terms they offered me prior to my negotiations with the Rogares, it is dumbfounding that the Crown is not already in a shocking quantity of debt. Especially with the talk of the opulent spending in King's Landing that creeps North."
"House Lannister has supported the Crown for many years, Lady Seastar," Lord Baelish supplied, "In exchange for such generosity I have managed the realm's taxes according to their enviable standards."
"The rest of the realm, Lord Baelish," Robb countered fiercely, "Does not have Casterly Rock to sit upon when winter comes. Our taxes should have been reinvested into profitable ventures. Into ensuring the survival of the Smallfolk all across Westeros. If only House Lannister's dragons are being taken into account then why is my father paying taxes?"
"While I am disappointed to hear Lord Baelish insinuate that the Crown favours any of its vassals, he is not incorrect," The Hand interrupted. "Under his tenure the treasury has tripled its revenue." A displeased furrow wrinkled his brow, "I must say that the revenue is spent rapidly which is the reason Lord Baelish negotiated several loan contracts with the Iron Bank."
"All here understand, Lord Hand," Sansa cut through the competitive like a knife across butter, "That you were attempting to diminish Lord Lannister's influence over the Iron Throne. There is no need to mince words, especially during business negotiations." None interrupted her candor, for they were either abhorred by such discourtesy, or smug with it as Shiera was. "Now we find ourselves sitting here facing Lord Lannister," She inclined her perfumed head towards the coldly-demeanored man, "As he attempts to prevent us from any possible measures which may increase the taxes we pay the King. Lord Baelish has already stated that such a drastic change in fortunes would yield our Houses far more influence." The girl stared boldly at the man prior to reaching over, patting his hand sensually though it made her shiver. "No one blames you, my Lord. No, you did as well as you could."
She smiled while slipping away from the contact prior to glancing at Drazenko Rogare. Instead of looking disgusted with her blatant seductions he seemed more intrigued than anything. "Now that I have set a standard for candor, I wish to hear what Master Rogare's terms are."
"Lord Arryn and I have already agreed that he will be borrowing two-hundred-seventy thousand dragons at an interest rate of twenty-five percent for the first three years of repayments. Including the support of my bank in supplying his bank with skilled, eastern immigrants. That will increase to thirty percent interest afterwards and remain constant until all installments have been gathered. Of course, that is subject to change if House Arryn fails in any way to honor these terms." The contract in question was pushed towards Tywin Lannister who barely glanced at it.
"A far smaller interest rate than that of the Iron Bank, yes," The Old Lion acknowledged, "Though the more pressing matter is what our Hand intends to do with such swollen coffers."
"I intend to follow Lord Stark's excellent example by building roads to connect the Mountains of the Vale. The increased flow of commerce, however, means that the Vale will need to finish off the First Men raiders permanently." He glanced at Shiera and Lord Hoster, "If they are amenable to such a proposition, I am willing to pay my westerly and northerly neighbors a fair bit of coin to help with such a bloody affair. We would storm the lowlands of the Vale to hunt the tribes to extinction. My ancestors have shown them mercy for too many centuries. Now is the time for House Arryn to execute justice." Sansa noticed Arya shift in her seat at this.
"I feel uncomfortable at the notion of Winterfell's coffers being filled in exchange for murdering other descendants of the First Men," The girl interjected, "My Lord Hand." She added the last bit hastily though without reminder, which was a great accomplishment actually.
"What would you have Lord Arryn do, girl?" Grand Maester Pycelle sneered at her in response, "Make merry with those bands of ruthless heathens?"
"I am no 'girl', Maester Pycelle, you will do well to remember that you speak to a Lady of House Stark," Arya snapped back with double the ferocity. "Your words betray the true issue at hand. These men, women, and children do not follow the Andal ways. So by that faulty logic then they must be savages who deserve to be put to the sword. All because the South chewed them up and spit them out." Her grey eyes were like a blizzard. Sansa had often caught glimpses of the great beauty her sister would become since learning of her resemblance to their Aunt Lyanna. That moment was no exception. Arya looked wild, natural, and dangerously righteous. "Aye, Lord Arryn, my uncle," She sat back with a graceful spine, "We will gladly clear your lands of the First Men. They will be brought to the North and granted sanctuary in our lands."
"Sister," Sansa decided to test the girl gently, "Do you know much of the Vale Mountain Clans? They are a far cry from the Manderlys."
"I have read briefly of them while researching the history of the First Men," She countered firmly.
"Children's tales," Lord Baelish scoffed with dancing eyes until Sansa looked upon him. He fell silent like a squire trying to flirt for the first time.
"They believe that everyone, no matter their appearance, should have the opportunity to be heard. In the North we admire such honorable traits in how our people conduct themselves. Just look at the Northern Mountain Clans." That last bit was asserted with a steely firmness. "Perhaps these tribes are too troublesome for the Vale, that is understandable," The tone softened to a more winning trill, "We will help to chain them. Escort them all to lands where they are wanted. That is my final word on the matter." Shiera was doubtlessly impressed by Arya's intuition. Immigrants were hard to come by in the North without a major culture clash which was unfortunate given the great population shortages. Now they would have at least five-thousand men in fighting condition, as well as twice that number of women and children. So long as they assimilated peacefully, of course.
Despite the fact that he would paying them well for such a service, it was a service nonetheless, so Lord Arryn inclined his head. "I am amenable to that peaceful resolution, Lady Arya." He turned to face the rest of the table again. "Over the course of several years I have also researched agricultural methods utilizing the libraries of King's Landing. With this loan I shall invest in the terraced farming that has been successfully employed in Yi Ti for millennia. Much of the irrigation networks provided by our mountains do not drain low enough to reach the fields. Funding similar projects should allow the Vale to maximize its production levels." The implications were enormous though Tywin Lannister still seemed disinterested. The Vale produced some of the sweetest, ripest, largest crops in Westeros though they were notoriously limited by a lack of land. If they could begin growing on their mountains, Sansa realized, it would cause their population to rise significantly.
"Targeted quantities of the loan shall be directed towards the establishment of innovative millery, sawmill, wool, and mining proposals I have received from my vassals." A pregnant pause preceded what he clearly presumed would be a controversial proposition. "The larger part of the remaining loan will be funneled into upgrading the city of Gulltown into a major competitor on the Narrow Se-."
"No," The Old Lion cut off the Hand in a rude, short, and declarative tone. "I convinced his grace to allow me to sit in on these negotiations as an impartial party. So that you would not use your influence for selfish purposes, Lord Arryn." No one dared to scoff at the dangerous politician. "You know as well as I do that Gulltown already threatens the stability of societal order in the East. Merchants bribing Lords to marry their commonborn daughters, and it would only grow worse if they found themselves with any more influence. I will advise the King against granting such a charter."
"What of the Spicers, Lord Lannister," Drazenko Rogare rebutted, "The many merchants of Lannisport who have been allowed to freely marry your noble-blooded cousins."
"Lesser Lords," The man dismissed firmly.
"Lords nonetheless," Johanna Rogare reinforced her brother's argument. "Gulltown is already a vital source of the Crown's taxes. With the eastern artisans we intend to send to the Vale can you not recognize the economic boom that shall occur? How can such opportunity be denied on the flimsy basis of hypocrisy?"
"You go too far you Valyrian wench," Maester Pycelle leant forth sharply, "This is the father of Queen Cersei. Grandfather to the Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon. Lord of the Westerlands. Do not presume that a banker can speak down to a Lord of Lannister and keep their tongue after."
"Perhaps this is the best time to inform you all," The lovely Rogare smiled with a devastating cunning, "But my brother has negotiated with Lord Tully during the fortnight since our arrival. I am betrothed to Ser Edmure and will one day, should the heavens grant us such a blessing, rule as the Lady of Riverrun. Do not presume to insult me, or my family again, Maester Pycelle."
"House Rogare returning to Westerosi politics. How surprising indeed." Tywin Lannister announced the development in a most glacial of tones. "I will permit this proposed 'betterment' of Gulltown, Lord Arryn, to your own detriment. Know now, however, that the Vale's taxes will be raised by ten-percent as soon as the first Dragon is dropped upon that cesspit of lowborn hagglers. Furthermore, Lord Baelish will include in the contract that any resulting conflicts between the eastern nobility and merchant class shall not receive even the least bit interference from the Crown." The short man had been copying the terms of the discussions upon a scroll of parchment since the beginning. Sansa noted with a slight bit of satisfaction that her penmanship was far superior.
"Now for the Riverlands," Drazenko sat up a bit straighter. He knew as well as everyone did that these discussions in particular would be far more tense. The region was the center of the Realm, and everyone would wish to suppress the development of neighbours who were already so competitive. She conscientiously prepared herself for the resistance to her ambitious plans. "As part of my sister's dowry Lord Tully will be subjected to a twenty percent interest, which shall only increase by two percent after three years have passed."
"The quantity of gold?" Maester Pycelle harrumphed humorlessly.
"Five-hundred-thousand gold Dragons," The violet-eyed man answered to the gobsmacked expressions of all present.
"Many plans, I take it, Lord Tully?" Shiera turned to him with a delighed look on her face.
"Many plans indeed, Lady Seastar," He straightened his tunic prior to snapping at his son. The hassled knight quickly stood to pass around identical papers covered with the same numbers. "Projected sums from each of my planned investments," Her kindly grandfather had turned into a ruthless businessman. Sansa noted that neither Lords Arryn or Lannister seemed quite surprised. In that moment she recalled how this was the same man who married his two daughters off to Lord Paramounts, and now his son to a revitalized banking family of Lys. "The River Road will be expanded upon to connect Maidenpool with the rest of our Kingdom. A new pathway called the River Road connecting Riverrun, Fairmarket, and Seagard shall be constructed as well."
"Half-a-million Dragons to construct two roads?" Lord Baelish jibed, prompting the Tully's faces to burn red again. "What a well-developed plan."
"Seagard, the Stoney Sept, Maidenpool, Fairmarket, Saltpans, and Lord Harroway's Town will be granted charters to become cities. I intend to assist all of these settlements financially in becoming as profitable as possible as swiftly as can be managed. The Crown will be given a far larger share of the Riverlands taxes, of course."
"An increase by thirty-percent, non-negotiable," Came Tywin Lannister's arrogant indignance again, "As well as a convincing answer to a burning question I have. How does your House intend to prevent these suddenly monumentally wealthy Lords from attempting to overthrow the diminished might of Riverrun? Especially when these lands are already so divided."
"The Stoney Sept will be overseen by my brother, Ser Brynden, who I have summoned back from the Vale. Fairmarket shall be ruled by my son and his new wife until they must return to Riverrun at my passing." Tully-blue eyes peered firmly at the Lannister. "The river kings of old denied such charters, yes, and for good reason. Though with the peace provided by our Baratheon King I know that many of those ancient concerns can be handled easily enough until the new order has been firmly established. The benefits are decidedly worth the risk." He flicked the first page of the sums, which must have been painfully difficult to so perfectly transcribe. "All of these settlements have been punching above the belt in the centuries since Aegon the Conqueror ceded the Riverlands to the management of House Tully. Even in Lord Harroways' Town and the Saltpans where the leadership is admittedly less than resolute."
"Might I add, Lord Lannister," Edmure's betrothed cut in sharply, "These towns already compete with established ports all across the world. When granted those charters the Riverlands will yield as much in taxes as the Reach and Westerlands. We will settle for a fifteen percent increase at most. Anything more than that is a highway robbery." She smiled genially at them all in turn. "I have also plotted with Lord Tully to institute a unifying, political organization at Riverrun. Every Lordly House of the Riverlands will send a representative to reside in this great seat so that they may be given equal say in their governance. It will be known as the Grand Assembly of Riverlords."
"Would it not be more apt to call it the Grand Assembly of Hostages?" Lord Baelish snorted mockingly. As though unaware of the ire it stoked in his already reluctant hosts.
"Clever," Lord Tywin spoke with a dryness to his voice, "I am confident that you will be capable of tightening your hold over the growing merchant class. More so than I am with Lord Arryn's proposition for Gulltown, at least." Which did not say much at all, truthfully. Sansa filled in the condescending blanks easily enough. "What of the remaining funds?"
"I will be investing in new ventures much like my goodson. Whatever Dragons remain will be spared for my granddaughter to do with as she pleases," The Lord of Riverrun placed a reassuring hand over her's. "Tell them of what you have been plotting, my sweet girl. Certainly no daughter of Catelyn's would be lacking clever plans to share with us all."
Shocked at having been given such an incredible opportunity she almost froze. Sansa had anticipated having to force her ideas into the foray as she always did. Her grandfather, whom she was already growing to love rather dearly, had just offered his full confidence in her. He could see her worth without requiring any proof. Something Sansa wished her own father was capable of. "I propose only one thing," She stood elegantly to both feet, snapping at her Ladies-in-Waiting. The eldest Stark daughter was just as well prepared as her Tully relatives, if not moreso. Unrolling a freshly painted, large, vibrant map of the Riverlands she waited until everyone was provided with the proper documents.
"A canal," She pointed at a large splotch of red annotations from the Blue Fork to a spot on the Ironman's bay which was very close to Seagard. Pycelle laughed incredulously, Tywin Lannister folded his arms with a furrowed brow, Lord Baelish eyed her with a speculative gleam in his eyes.
"What would you know of canals, Lady Stark?" Pycelle wheezed out, "Such a task is hardly a simple thing to accomplish."
"Nor would I tolerate it," Tywin Lannister did not deign to hiss, though his lips emitted a nasty edge.
"Your power over these matters extends no further than the topics of taxes and city charters, Lord Lannister. We have already received your consent to convert all major settlements along the Trident into cities. Taxes can be debated after I am finished speaking, yet you have no power to prevent this measure from going through. Lord Arryn will surely convince the King otherwise." She smiled prettily, "I am certain that the King tires of hearing the Lannisters demand things of him. Perhaps it will please him to give in to the Starks and their allies for once." Spinning back to Pycelle she allowed the uplifting of her lips to fall away. "Winterfell has one of the finest collections of books in the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps fine enough to rival the Citadel of Old Town." Clapping gracefully she watched as a flustered serving girl slipped forth with a bulging leather sack. "Help me, Lady Wylla," Sansa untied the strings to reveal ancient, delicate scrolls. As rehearsed they began to spread the papers artfully around the map. Earmarked pages in massive tomes, yellowed scrolls from Valyria, pictures of Essossi cities.
"I have researched my idea extensively." The Stark maiden for once did not feel as though she were playing behind Shiera's shadow. No, this was her. This was a ghost of the politician she would one day become. "The lands between the Bay and Blue Fork are soggy, so unfarmable that they could be called useless. Though those conditions only mean the land will be far easier to break up. Furthermore draining the excess water would greatly improve Seagard's agricultural yields." No one spoke over her. They all were either waiting to laugh at a coming stutter, or for the conclusion of what could be a grand undertaking. "Such a venture would certainly pay for itself thousandfold, thrice that even. A controlled channel through the heart of Westeros would bring immense prosperity to this kingdom, the likes of which few of us have ever seen before."
New markings were made with the ink bottle that Syggi helpfully offered her. "Barrowton has been granted a charter to begin building a new Westerossi city, as you all should have heard by now. All of these small harbors in the Northern Westerlands will thrive like they never have before, Lord Lannister. For the first time in thousands of years your House will be able to bypass the Tyrells in matters of trade."
"An intriguing dream, Lady Stark," He agreed, "Despite my immense desire to blindly support a method of undercutting the Tyrells, Hightowers, and Redwynes, I need something more substantial to consider."
Here was what she worried would be the weakest part of her plotting. "The smaller portions of my grandfather's remaining loan would need to be directed towards widening the Blue Fork, Red Fork, and Trident rivers as well modifying bridges to accommodate larger ships. That is a necessity if this new channel is to reshape how trade in Westeros is to be conducted." Nervousness was not allowed to show at all, not with so many enemies before her. "The greater portions would be directed into the construction of something undeniably groundbreaking." Here she, with great delicacy, unrolled the final scroll. "An ancient schematic describing the Crimson Canal of Valyria."
"Even in Volantis and Braavos," More references were pointed to, "They have not been able to surpass the Crimson Canal let alone match its ingenuity. No, you will only see simple flash locks if you travel along either of those waterways. We will accomplish something far greater." Tully-blue eyes awash with excitement she pointed to her own replications of the Valyrian document which was littered with markings. "Massive gates of epic dimensions will be watertight when shut. Trading galleys, cogs, longships, and even war galleys will be lifted into the Ironman's bay by the flooding of this cavity, this one here, with water. Such an innovation will enable the Mallisters to prevent the Ironman's Bay from overflowing into the Riverlands."
"As loyal as they are, granddaughter," Lord Tully frowned, "What is to counteract giving the Mallisters such power? They will collect a hefty toll, and control access to the Riverlands. Even the Grand Assembly of Riverlords would not be capable of manipulating such growth into a more… Manageable direction."
"You will select a noble, one who has proven themself many times over to be a dedicated proponent of peace and prosperity in Westeros. They shall be granted the confluence of the trident to construct a twin set to the already suggested locks. As well as a fortress which represents the new prosperity to be attained in the Riverlands." Her head pivoted in a specific direction. "Not only will Lady Seastar provide a capable check to growing Mallister influence, but she will be in a position to oversee any happenings within the Saltpans and Lord Harroway's Town."
The response was immediate, everyone yelling at everyone, except for Tywin Lannister who simply stared at her with those chilling eyes. "We have already established that Lady Shiera is now free to pursue prosperity all across Westeros. She has been loyal and massively important to these proceedings. Without her assistance I may never have been able to share my plans for this canal." More papers were withdrawn only to be tossed unceremoniously before Lord Baelish. "Tell us what you make of these documents, my Lord," Her voice turned to honey, "Help us all examine this matter from the perspective of economic prosperity rather than a bitter bias against Targaryen blood."
He did just that. Scanning over pages at a time prior to passing the examined documents to Lord Tywin. Eventually the man glanced up at her prompting Sansa to do everything she could to not flinch. "These papers are a comprehensive detailing of Lady Seastar's wealth," The man explained to all present.
"Partial detailing," Sansa corrected, "There is much more to her name than that alone. Not included is the wealth that was discovered in the Crypts of Winterfell which my father protects for her."
"I have no choice but to support Lady Stark in appointing Lady Seastar to preside over the confluence. She has been returned the Lysene trading company she owned in her… Previous era of history." He folded his fingers, "The Magisters of Lys have also awarded herself and her future heir lifetime positions on the Council of Trade. The sheer infrastructure beholden to her name is enough to pour much more tax revenue into the King's treasury. I believe it would be lunacy not to support improvements in the Riverlands which might satiate the King's proclivity for spending. Especially with numbers as convincing as these."
"Given that we are no longer discussing the Vale," Shiera followed Baelish up closely, "It would be much more time efficient to hold a vote. Three members of the Small Council sit with us, all of whom are ethically unrestricted on this topic and capable of evaluating these proposed reforms fairly. Do you agree with that Lord Lannister?"
Before he could respond Sansa withdrew a folded paper from the cover of a newer book on channel locks. She slid it to the Lord prompting him to read the contents out of the way of Pycelle's wandering eyes. "It is agreeable," He pocketed the scrap of parchment, "Would you like to start, Lord Arryn?" The Hand voted yes, Pycelle voted no, and it all came down to Lord Baelish. With another slimy smile in her direction he gave the Tullys what they so desperately wanted. A fuming Maester Pycelle was the first to leave, followed closely by a sauntering Lord Baelish much to Sansa's relief. "I met your grandfather several times before he was executed," The Old Lion stared directly at her, ignoring everyone else, "I daresay you are the sort of child such an ambitious Lord would have appreciated." With that he left alongside the Hand.
Releasing a guttural sounding breath Sansa fell back into her seat. Clutching at the arms like her life depended upon it. She felt very close to hyperventilating at what they all had just managed to accomplish. Syggi swept close behind to wrap the pelt from her shoulders around Sansa's own. "You saved that deal," Shiera stared fully at her shaking form, "And made me a Lady of what will be a great port."
"Yes, she certainly held her own well enough against Tywin Lannister. As well as that snivelling coward who had the gall to visit our home again." Edmure piped up while Johanna smiled up at the firm support shown for his niece.
"We will not discuss him again, Edmure. Take your betrothed and her brother for a walk of the Godswood." Hoster Tully steered the conversation away from a topic which clearly pained him. Clearly Sansa would have to ask her mother of the unnerving little man upon her return to Winterfell. "There is one last matter to see to." He stared at each of the Stark children with equal intensity. "Your grandmother was a lovely woman. I remember the way she filled a room with light. Like a ray of the sun on a cloudy day. She gave me greater gifts than any of the Seven could have, and I will love her dearly for it until my last breath." He reached arthritically upwards to squeeze Sansa's hand again. "Minisia was also a Whent. Which is why Lord Arryn has tasked me with finding a suitable replacement for the Lordship of Harrenhal." He took his time with the next words. "Your mother was wise enough to have been a Lady of Riverrun. I decided otherwise, and have always regretted never seeing her rise to her fullest potential."
"You will be the new Lady of Harrenhal, Sansa Stark, and I expect that you will impress me greatly."
OOOO
They stopped at Oldstones on their way home. On their way back to the North where the plains, mountains, icy seas, and Walls of ice awaited. To the lands which would always call to Stark blood like a song. Robb, Arya, and all of the Ladies-in-Waiting except got deliriously drunk from the wine pilfered to them by Stark guards. Lying amidst the ancient stones that had belonged to House Mudd so long ago Sansa was pressed snugly between Arya and Robb's shoulders. "I never asked, Sansa," Robb stared up at the stars whilst jostling her from her sober thoughts. "What did you put on that paper to persuade Tywin Lannister to allow the canal to be built?"
"His merchants can travel without a toll for a year-and-a-half after construction has finished," She responded in a simple tone.
Drunken giggles broke from Arya's mouth at that. "I bet he left to shit gold," She leant upon both elbows atop the grass. Black locks tangling to her elbows. Looking very much a wild beauty again. Perhaps Rhaegar Targaryen had seen Aunt Lyanna in the same such manner. That certainly would have explained her abduction in a way the eldest Stark daughter could understand.
"I am truly sorry to break up such a pathetic sight," Shiera's voice caused them all too startle in a slight panic. "Sansa, we must talk in private while your siblings make drunken fools of themselves." Sitting up she maneuvered her silken skirts until her bare feet were both firmly planted in the fertile ground. Nothing felt nicer than walking barefoot across the lands of her Tully ancestors. They did not travel up the hill but instead journeyed down it. Sansa was familiar enough with Lady Seastar's enigmatic ways that she did not question the situation. Ashes, elms, oaks, pines, and sentinels drowned them within their silent midsts. A late evening mist rose from where the Blue Fork rushed out of the Trident. They must have walked quite a ways then indeed.
In that moment Sansa noticed that her governess kept a leather satchel slung about her shoulder. "You are silent, sweet Sansa. Do you bask in the glory of your accomplishments, or in the beauty of nature?" The Great Bastard stopped on the bank of the Trident. She glowed brighter than a star beneath the moonlight. Silver hair shining like the moon, skin glowing more prettily than a pearl.
"Before Robb and Arya woke me, I was dreaming of blood. Not the sort that misery springs free of. The kind of blood that a mother might shed birthing her first babe. The blood of a maiden who has been taken by a man for the first time. The blood which is shared between a father and son. Which is stored in the earth for millenia nourishing the descendants of both." A gasp for the chilly air broke free of her lips.
The sack was settled atop the muddy dirt Shiera stood in. "What are you not telling me, sweetling?" She began to strip free of her very pretty gown prior to exposing that beautiful body to the world. There was nothing sexual to the ministrations. Only loveliness, and it all seemed so natural.
"You were in my dream. The blood of House Stark," Sansa admitted whilst fingering her simple dresses buttons. "The nourishment. The maiden. The mother. You are the soil upon which my brother's sons and daughters will feast upon. Your corpse will stink of sacrifice, yet the sweetest kind." The girl could only half-understand herself, but it seemed to make perfect sense at the same time. Abandoning any reluctance she stripped down as well. Slipping closer to Shiera until they stood facing the Trident. Fingers locked tightly together.
"Do you trust me Sansa Stark? Do you trust your greendreams?" Shiera asked.
"You once told me that I could only trust the woman who gave birth to me, Shiera Seastar," Sansa answered firmly. "Do as you did in my dream of this very same thicket, of the river which rages before us. Give me life and become my second mother. Then I shall trust you." Not a moment later did they wait to slip into the cold waters. Only then did the Great Bastard reach for the objects hidden within her satchel.
Milk….
Blood…..
Valyrian Steel….
Red Rose Petals….
White Eyes….
Salt…
Only a skeletal figure watched the proceedings as an almost reverential wonder was awoken. Something that he had intended to remain dormant forever was coaxed into the world.
Sansa Stark gasped for breath as she rose above the cold waves of the Trident.
Crimson locks shining underneath the light of the blazing sun even though she had only gone under the water what seemed like moments before.
OOOO
Yes, I built a canal. Why you ask, did I follow the biggest trope in ASOIAF fanfiction? Because I felt like it. Hopefully you enjoyed my extensive world-shaping. Now we have a ton of wealthy Houses on the verge of war. Who will survive? So many characters had to be included that I hardly focused on Drazenko/Sansa this chapter. Though at this stage their 'relationship' has grown as much as it can. Also, forgive any grammatical errors. This thing was seventeen pages long...