*Y'ALL, Y'ALL, Y'all. CALM DOWN. Please read.


299 AC

Petyr Baelish

Those idiots in King's Landing had given him a second chance at life, one that he would not waste. His vessel had made landfall at the free city of Pentos. The captain of the vessel, Vern, having evidently been commissioned by the Iron Throne, unceremoniously dumped him at the docks and barred him from re-boarding. Fools, they'll all soon see.

Having only the clothes on his back, he elected to find himself a whorehouse to lay low for a while. He'd have to find a way into the good graces of the magisters.

Bounding up the street, he took in all the scents. The smells of street foods and other such delectable treats made him stop for a moment and think about all that he had lost. Oh when the chance arrived, he would make the lords of Westeros bow before him.

All of a sudden, something grabbed on the back of his tunic and pulled him back into a dark alleyway. He was being dragged, he tried to use his hands to grab the mystery arm, but it just made him flay about like a dying fish. He could hear the steady breathing of the man who had grabbed him. He was not exerting any effort at all.

He was dragged into a dark room somewhere and thrown into a chair. It was dark all around him and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the room, from the brightness of the outside. After some moments, he stopped squinting and was able to fully open his eyes.

He was alone, with only one other figure. The person was garbed, not in conspicuous clothing of any kind, but simple traveling leather. As any child of Essos might wear. But in the person's hands, was a wicked looking blade.

"You are awake, yes?"

He struggled to find his voice. "My good man, I am sure this is just one big, misunderstanding."

The man chuckled and waved a single finger around. "No, no, no. You are the weasel from the Sunset Land, exiled for your crimes, yes?"

He gulped. "I am sure…some may see it that way."

"Oh some? Well, definitely more than you think, yes?"

He was growing annoyed at the manner of the man's speech. "Who are you, why have dragged me here?"

He laughed again. "Because my friend, though the Andals may have exiled you for your crimes…" At this, the man's grin turned to a creepy sneer. "…you have yet to pay for your crimes against other…yes?"

Now he was truly confused. But it seemed the man became inpatient, as just as he was going to respond, the man stepped forward and grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him forth, while holding the edge of the blade ever so close to his face.

And he would never forget the next words.

"The Iron Bank sends their regards."

And he screamed.


Stannis Baratheon

He had smiled that day. Although Pycelle and Varys were slimy, Littlefinger was the man who made him truly…uncomfortable. It was good that Lord Stark had stripped him of his titles and lands. He felt that he should have been executed for his crimes. But when he brought this to the attention of Lord Stark, the Quiet Wolf merely smiled and let out a single chuckle. 'Fear not Stannis' he had said, 'Littlefinger did not robber the Iron Throne alone…he will find his due punishment soon enough.'

He had to admit, he didn't think the Wolf had it in him to be so sneaky. Regardless, he had learned why. After the conversation, Eddard had explained to him that he hoped with Littlefinger being punished by most likely the Iron Bank, that the institution would be more open to forgiving the debt that Littlefinger accumulated. He then realized something, and he informed the Wolf immediately.

Much to the dissatisfaction of Lord Stark, the Iron Bank, always gets its due. The hunting down of Littlefinger was naught but a gesture. Sooner or later, the Iron Bank would expect the debt to be paid off by them. Stark was particularly annoyed at this revelation.

But no matter, no it was time for Lord Arryn. The Falcon had been recovering slowly. He was also in much better spirits. Occasionally, the odd raven from the Eyrie would arrived, co-signed by both his regents, giving a report on the state of affairs of his kingdom, and of his son and heir. Apparently the kingdom was running smoothly under the able administration of Lord Royce. Young Robin Arryn was making…marginal improvements as well. His attitude had changed slowly. Through the strict guidance of his aunt, Robin Arryn reportedly began losing the arrogant and spoilt attitude. But it seemed that not all prayers would be answered, for the young falcon still was subpar at his martial skills.

But as the former Hand noted, little steps.

He found himself 'fore the door of his former boss once more. His squire, Hugh, letting him into the chambers. He found Lord Arryn standing by the window, using of his hands to support himself. The man's muscles were still weak, and he tired easily, but he was making an effort it seemed.

"Lord Arryn."

"Stannis, it's good to see you. What did you need? Is everything alright?"

He looked around the room, checking to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. Lord Arryn simply nodded and understanding. "Worry not Stannis, speak openly."

As if I'd ever do that in the Red Keep. But down to the matter at hand. "Lord Arryn…I truly believe 'tis time to bring Lord Stark into the fold about the King's…great matter."

The old falcon scowled. "Lord Stannis…I think that it would be-"

"Damnit man!" Stannis growled loudly before speaking in a whisper once more. "Jon. For the love of the gods. It, is, time. We must inform him. Not only is he the Hand, but he was also able to limit Lannister influence in the capital even before he arrived, and if what you tell me is true, he may be the only man capable to controlling Robert's anger should he find out!"

The old falcon sighed and took a seat on his bed. "Ah, perhaps you are right friend. For much of my life, I was blessed with two sons that were neither mine. But alas, you are correct. 'Fore we do anything however, do we know who may still oppose us in the Red Keep? In the capital?"

The two men quietly thought to themselves. "Pycelle is a Lannister dog, I have no doubt about that. As for any others, only Varys may oppose us."

"I would be wary of Varys…of course. But you are right about Pycelle. My advice? Any ravens that you must send, be with him every moment of the exchange of letters, to when he attaches it to the raven to fly."

"That is good advice indeed. I will also have Ser Davos' two eldest watch the rookery at all times to ensure he does not read messages, not meant for his eyes."

"Good, very good. The last group we'll need to worry about are the Kingsguard."

"Aye, I had thought of that."

"Ser Barristan, Ser Arys, and Ser Preston joined His Grace on his progress to Storm's End. That leaves Ser Jaime, Ser Boros, Ser Meryn, and Ser Mandon. The only one that I would even begin to trust is Ser Mandon. The other three are very deep in the Queen's pockets."

"Or the Queen herself." He mirthlessly japed.

"Yes, well…regardless, we are still outnumbered. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros are both a disgrace to the white cloak and can be dispatched of easily. 'Tis the blade of Ser Jaime that I truly fear. After all, he will not make the same mistake twice should he cross blades with Ned."

And then he had a thought. It wasn't an honorable thought. But it was a way that the Kingslayer could be dispatched of easily. He won't like it, but frankly I don't care.

"There is one possibility in regard to Ser Jaime."

"Oh?"

"Though Lord Stark only brought mostly footmen with him, as well as those elite 'rangers' of his. But…it was fortunate that I had Ser Davos send for a great number of my own household guard."

"What are you saying Stannis?"

"Many of the men sent, are crossbowmen." He let the statement hang in the air.

Unlike long bows, crossbows were much slower to reload. But the bigger crossbows packed quite the strength to them. Perhaps one may be lucky to find a weak spot in a knight's armor. But an entire volley? Two entire volleys? On a single man? Even the greatest knight cannot deflect nor withstand so much.

"It is risky."

"Not as much as facing the blade of the Kingslayer."

Jon Arryn nodded. "I relent to you that point…very well."

"Shall I send for Lord Stark?"

"Aye let's get this over with. And have Ser Davos' sons watch Pycelle and Varys while we are meeting."

"You know Varys need not listen personally to know about the affairs that others speak of."

"Yes, but at the very least, we'll know whether or not he is told from one of his 'little birds'."

"I shall be back soon. Have a strong guard stary until then."


Jon Arryn

This was the moment. Stannis had just escorted Ned back to his room. There was only one way in or out of the room. And it was covered with a total of a dozen-and-a-half of the most loyal men of the three lords.

"Ned, welcome."

"Jon. Stannis told me there was a matter of great importance. Can this not be done in the Hand's Tower? I swear Jon, how you haven't become exhausted before this moment is beyond me."

"Ned." He calmly got his former pupil's attention. "I am afraid that Stannis is right. What we must tell you, is no doubt one of the greatest secrets since the Aegon landed at the Blackwater."

Ned sobered up immediately. "What is it."

Neither he nor Stannis spoke first. It felt almost taboo by simply speaking about it. So instead, he turned and grabbed the book that he had kept safe in his chambers since he fell so many months ago. He found the right chapter and opened it. "Read."

"What is this?"

"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms." He plainly responded.

"Why did you give this to me?"

"Read it?" Stannis said more forcefully.

Ned eyed the man before lowering his eyes to the dense book. "Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair." Ned looked up before continuing. "Joffrey Baratheon, golden head."

His former ward put down the book and the trio stood in silence for a moment. Ned made the first comment. "Is this…does…does this mean what I think it means?"

Stannis responded hotly. "Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. All golden head. All green eyed. I would sooner call your boy Robb my nephew than I would the 'princes and princess'."

"Are…are you sure? My own eldest takes after their mother greatly."

"Yet, you can still see some of yourself in him. Tell me, you have been here for some months now, look at me and tell me that there is even an ounce of Robert in any of them."

"But Robert…surely he, he-"

He jumped in finally. "Ned. Robert is not the man who you grew up with. He is drunk most of the time. He can barely remember things anymore."

"And Joffrey's behavior is becoming more and more understandable."

Ned wasn't stupid. He knew he suspected something when he denied his daughter's hand to the prince. "Ned, all three of us know how the taint of incest can affect the mind. We all fought in a war to displace an incest-ridden dynasty."

Ned steeled himself. "I shall tell Robert when he returns. Therefore, I must warn the Queen. I know Robert shall call for their heads and I…I, I cannot see that again." He knew the terrible moment Ned spoke of. But he disagreed heartedly.

So did Stannis apparently. "You fool!"

Ned looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Foolish fool! The three of us would end up like your father and brother!"

Bold of you to mention that Stannis. Ned grew quiet and very angry. "Watch your tone Lord Baratheon. I am still the Hand of the King."

"And a foolish one at that if you think that will solve the situation. Cersei is not a timid woman. She is an idiotic dolt, but a powerful and vindictive one at that. She'll find a way to kill Robert and the three of us! We must grow our own strength."

"Then Queen, the Kingslayer, and the children must all be arrested then."

"Aye."

"Then at the very least Lord Lannister should be made aware of this. The man has a right to know why his two eldest are being arrested."

He finally took the initiative. "I also do not think that is a good move. But it is your wish. Ned?" He looked for approval, he nodded. "Stannis, prepare you men to seize the Queen, her brother, and the children. Organize the city watch and evaluate the defenses. Ned, send word to your eldest to raise the banners, have him march at full swiftness, if needs to bargain with Lord Frey, so be it. I fear that Tywin Lannister will not soon forget this affront against him, and we'll have an army to use gods damn it."

"I shall also send word to the Crownlands to raise the banners." Stannis spoke.

"And I shall send word my regents to ready the Knights of the Vale. I'll…also send word to Storm's End."

"Gentlemen, we are at the precipice of a great war. Ready yourselves. And should there be a time when anyone of us loses our lives, let it be known that it has been an honor to serve alongside the two of you."

The other two men nodded in agreement.


*Do you really believe that I would allow Baelish off that easily. TBH, I am tired of fanfics killing him outright. We all hear about how ruthless the Iron Bank is, but I have never actually seen their work. I wanted to work off of that angle as well. Trust me, I was not about to have Baelish continue to be a player in this game. Calm down. I actually had the first part of this chapter finished before I even started the previous chapter. The rest of the wait has been trying to write the rest of this chapter.