Lord Manderly had a pleased smile as he saw the way their god was teaching Rickon Stark to flip a grown man. It warmed his heart to see the way the god treated the boy. Not that the way she was around Sansa wasn't enough of a clue, but she adored the Starks. Whole lot of 'em. He wasn't stupid, something had changed after she'd gone and vanished with the Queen for an afternoon. He glanced at Lyanna Mormont who was standing beside him. "I'm surprised you are not down there learning as well, my Lady."
"Not today, Lord Manderly, I have business for Bear Island to see to." Her eyes glinted as she still was looking at the lesson with a sharp focus.
He held back the chuckle he wanted to give. "Waiting for Maester Wolkan to bring you the latest reports on the Queen's men near your home then?"
"Aye." She bit out, ah she would be giving that poor man an earful for taking so long.
Shaking his head he considered her. "No plans to find yourself a husband, my lady? It would seem every unmarried lad ten or older is trying to find a betrothed or wife right now."
Her face filled with disgust. "Hardly. I'm too young to birth a babe yet, and a husband would be useless to me if I was old enough."
"Not even worth considering a betrothal? The younger two Blackwood boys are unspoken for still." He suggested, it really ought to be her mother handling the whole situation. But the Mormonts were reduced to just this one fierce girl. He wholeheartedly approved of Sansa emphasizing the need for the Lady of Bear Island to remain at court to better advocate for her people as Bear Island was so near to the Wall. Girl deserved to get to learn to fight and feel productive but still be as close to a child as any could afford to let her.
Lyanna's eyes didn't leave the fighting down below. "A husband would only try to rule me. I'm the Mormont of Bear Island, they are my people and my land. I'd cut a man's throat who thought he could change that."
Manderly couldn't help laughing at that. Gods be good, she was a fierce little thing. "Maybe a bastard son with no prospects for ya then? Someone with no name or claim of their own to help you lead your army and guard your lands?"
"I shall not." She scoffed. "My mother bedded a bear for her daughters, I shall do the same."
He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling horribly awkward. "You do know your mother did not bed an actual bear, yes?"
"I'm not an idiot, Lord Manderly." She gave him a cutting look like he was stupid.
He nodded, folding his hands in front of him. And he could see her position, losing the benefits of a husband and an alliance with such a thing though… "Surely you would like a partner for ruling your land? I have no idea what I'd have done without my wife and various relations to help with the minutia of ruling."
"When I am able and ready to provide my home with an heir I will do my duty and birth one. And perhaps a wolf, not a bear? If I require aid with management I will just hire the help." Lyanna seemed to consider something. "Or ask her Grace to lend me Lyarra Karstark for the minutia of ruling."
Manderly actually came up short on that one, staring at her with wide eyes. Dear gods, she was planning on just leveraging her friendship with Rickon Stark to get herself an heir their Queen would legitimize without hesitation if asked. And would certainly provide Bear Island with continued royal interest without the need for a marriage alliance. "Lyarra is betrothed to Prince Rickon?"
"For now." Lyanna sounded disappointed in him, which was rather galling. "And she spends hours following her Grace around learning about ruling. She'd be useful if she wanted to do something other than just marry some idiot for the Starks."
Well, that was a point. With the Riverlands and Vale the chances of Rickon's betrothal being broken so he could marry a more important bride was actually quite likely. "You think her Grace would allow that?"
"House Mormont's loyalty is beyond reproach. Besides, what issue could a single girl of a traitor House cause as far North as Bear Island?" Lyanna arched a brow.
And well, "That would certainly be quite secure." He shook his head. It was half madness, but he could see the practicality of it. And certainly, a way to use the connections she was making while here in the capital.
A thin reedy voice joined them. "Already thinking of how to make the most of your friends. Very wise of you, my Lady." Petyr Baelish joined them, a tip of his head to Lyanna. "If only more of your peers were so promising."
Lyanna gave the faintest twitches of acknowledgments to Baelish. "My Lord."
"Lord Baelish, here to see our prince train as well?" Manderly moved the conversation away from Lady Mormont's rather insane ideas. Though horrifyingly practical if faintly sad. He wondered how much was ruthless practicality with the utter willful ignoring of the political situation, and how much was that Rickon and Lyarra were likely the only friends of her own age she had?
Baelish's smarmy attention shifted away from Lyanna. "Partly, it is heartening to know the future is secure."
"And what else brings you here then, Lord Baelish?" Manderly asked.
His narrow lips smiled. "I had thought to speak with you on the matter of Edmund Blackwood. A little bird tells me he may intend to make a move towards our Queen once her Holiness regrettably leaves us."
"Blackwood?" Manderly's brow furrowed. "I would have thought it of Mallister if anyone here from the Riverlands."
Baelish tipped his head. "You know how fourth sons can be. Lord Mallister is in talks to marry Lord Glover's cousin, Eddara I believe is the girls' name."
Which was news to Manderly. Made sense, coastal Houses both under threat from the Greyjoys. Made the distance between them less of a weakness as well. "Ah, good for him."
"Indeed, which means if our Queen intends to keep her kingdom pacified, well a Blackwood rather will have to be wed to the Starks. Of course, to dare imagine that Stark might be the Queen and not Princess Arya or Prince Bran is most…presumptive."
Lyanna's eyes narrowed. "I doubt the truth of your 'little bird.' Edmund can no more avoid jumping at the sight of a direwolf than think to marry the Queen. She'd eat him alive if he dared."
"Power makes men do foolish things." Baelish pointedly looked down to where the god was ruffling Prince Rickon's hair before helping him through the motions again. "And with our god's departure on the minds of all, well, some might take their chance."
Lyanna's eyes narrowed even further. "And the Vale holds none who would think to try?"
"Oh, there certainly are some fools. The Redforts may make an offer, no doubt Harry Hardyng will as well. Once her Holiness returns south no doubt some poor fool will make an attempt. I only worry our Queen may feel…obliged to accept an offer from the Blackwoods with how integral their services are to her southern border at the moment."
Manderly stroked his beard. "I doubt our Queen would allow herself to be or even could be, backed into anything she wishes to avoid." He gave a pointed look to the god. "She hasn't left yet. Doubt any fools who try while she's here will end up the better for it."
/
Jon stared at the Martell Prince waiting for him as he neared his rooms to change from his sparring clothing into something he could wear while speaking with Daenerys. "Your Highness, did you need something?"
"I was hoping to speak with you, your Highness." Olyvar Martell gave a slow smile that reminded Jon a bit of how Daisy looked when she was considering punching Greatjon again. "Perhaps to avoid 'your Highness' this and 'your Highness' that we should dispense with it since we both hold the title, your Highness?"
And oh…nope, that sound in the man's tone was all Theon when looking at a pretty girl. Jon had really hoped he was wrong about that. Why couldn't Loras be here? He could chuck him at this mess and the man'd either escape without insulting anyone or not escape if he didn't want to. Or Daisy? She'd know how to get out of this sort of thing. "Er…that's acceptable?"
"Stark then, a walk perhaps so that we can discuss things?" His head tilted slightly.
Every instinct in his body demanded he run. However, "If you do not mind waiting for me to change…Martell?"
Olyvar's eyes did a slow sweep of him before laughing. "Good gods man, breath." He slapped his arm. "Come, I don't bite if you don't want me to and I could care less about Tyrell finery."
Jon blinked. "That…what?"
"Come," Olyvar waved him along as he began to walk down the hall.
Jon twitched but followed. He desperately wished he was not alone here. The only thing worse than following and letting the Dornish Prince explain would be to have to ask Daisy…or even worse…a Tyrell.
"Oh stop twitching, you're pretty, but you're not that pretty." Olyvar twirled a small sharp blade between his fingers. "Watching you try and find a way to avoid fucking me might be amusing, but I doubt it'd be productive."
Jon just sighed. "I'm going to wish I had gotten to my rooms faster then?"
"Oh certainly." Olyvar shot an irritated look at a passing Tyrell servant. "But first, shall we enjoy for once being near someone from so far removed a location our Houses are neither allies nor enemies?"
Which, Jon actually felt his back untense at those words. "Surely you have more productive things to see to?"
"Undoubtedly, but until our Queen's retinue arrives in two days there is little point." He slid his knife back into a clever sheath sewn into the lining of his orange silks. "We both have it in common that we were not meant for our positions."
Jon frowned faintly as he walked side by side with the Dornish Prince. "You're a Prince, I was born a bastard?"
"Hardly, and you're a Prince now as well." Olyvar folded his hands behind his back. "But I see you don't know my lineage, unsurprising really. My father was Castellan for Sunspear, serving under Prince Doran Martell our last true Prince. My father, Manfrey Martell is son of Prince Doran's Grandfather. We are not that closely related, close enough to matter of course." His grin showed his teeth. "I should be bedding whom I please, drinking too much wine, riding in tourneys, and mayhaps running Sunspear as my father has done in another twenty years. And yet, here I am; Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne."
Jon considered the man. "Did you want it? To be Prince of Dorne?"
"You ask a hard question." Olyvar looked out at the gardens as they walked out into the light of the ever-cooling days. "I love my people, I love my family, what other choice was there? Leave Dorne weak and divided as every man, woman, and child with a drop of Martell blood fought over our sands like rabid beasts?" He looked at Jon. "If they had named you King in the North, would you have accepted or would you have run from it, Jon Stark?"
He swallowed the terror at the thought of it. Of remembering the Lords who had argued for the Winter Throne to be his. "Aye, I'd have accepted it. But it wouldn't have been right." His mouth twitched. "Sansa's a right sight better at all of it than I would have been. She'd have been stuck doing all of the work and yelling at me for making it difficult on her."
"I was surprised to hear of your sister's crowning. Remarkable, I had thought only Dorne would name a woman as their leader without dragons to make it so." He shook his head. "And yet, I hear so many things of the North that make me think perhaps our two peoples are not so different. A Queen with a female lover, quite scandalous."
Jon grabbed the man's arm, his eyes narrowed, as he halted them. "You will not speak ill of my sister to me, Martell."
"Hardly." Olyvar reached up, catching Jon's hand where it was on his arm. "I think it's remarkable. A woman powerful enough to do as she pleased and drag all your Northerns under her banner? Now that is a woman worth admiration." His mouth curled. "Especially if she's as striking as you are, Stark."
His cheeks heated as he dropped his hand. "Apologies, it's just-"
"Everyone here is too stupid to accept someone like your Queen unless she's in front of them and making them do so." Olyvar finished. "I can see why your sister legitimized you. Your loyalty is impressive."
Jon cleared his throat. "I am grateful she did, but it wasn't necessary."
"Which is no doubt why she did it." Olyvar continued his strolling pace. "Tell me, two Tyrell squires?"
He really wished Daisy was here. Also, he felt distinctly uncomfortable with the flirting. He had a terrible feeling it was meant to make him uncomfortable. And well, even if he was not attempting a betrothal to Daenerys, he wasn't moved by the male form really. "Yes, Lord Willas asked I take them. And would you stop…flirting?"
"A shame, but if it bothers you." Olyvar gave him a nod, his face definitely amused. "But all it took was him just asking?"
Jon shifted awkwardly. "Trade to bring food to the Riverlands would save lives. And Luthor and Garth aren't half bad. Bit eager, but they've got heart."
"Ah, a fruitful friendship." Olyvar hummed. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you food, or spears. But that does not mean we cannot be friends, yes?"
Jon looked at the man. "What is it you want from me?"
Olyvar raised a brow, a half laugh on his face. "Plain speech then?
"Aye, plain speech if you will." Jon was exhausted from the innuendo and ridiculous circles everyone spoke in here. He missed the North.
Olyvar nodded. "Very well, I have a cousin with me, he's four and ten, take him as your squire along with your Tyrell boys, and I'll see you are repaid for it. You have my word."
Well, Daisy was going to either kill him or laugh at him doing something smart without realizing it. "Why should I trust your word?"
Olyvar did laugh then. "Is having someone who isn't a Tyrell to aid you not enough?" He gave a last chuckle. "Very well, take my cousin as squire and I shall send an ambassador to your sister on behalf of Dorne. After all, I do prefer friends to enemies."
"Your cousin will be in the yard whether I say yes or no won't he?" Jon could see the determination on the man's face.
Olyvar just grinned. "Possibly, but who can control boys who wish to learn from a swordsman we hear ever more of?"
"If the boy comes North with me he could die." Jon cautioned. "But very well." He really hoped Sansa didn't kill him for this. Building alliances was important.
/
Arya narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Planning on telling me why I've just fed Edmund Blackwood to our resident mockingbird? Or still going to be a bitch about it?"
It was disappointing, though not surprising, that didn't get more than a bemused look from her sister. Sansa made so much more sense when they were children. She used to shriek in outrage. Instead of shrieking, Sansa said measured, normal words. "Because Lyarra Karstark and our brother have agreed on a pact to avoid marriage to each other."
"And she looks at you like you hung the moon?" Arya couldn't help the smirk, it was hilarious on afternoons Lyarra was permitted to follow Sansa about.
Sansa's lips twitched up. "Hush, you'll leave that poor girl alone. But yes, I quite think even Rickon's noticed that."
"You mean to throw Rickon at Bethany Blackwood then?" Arya frowned working out the alliance lines. "I thought your stupid–and it's beyond idiotic–plan to marry immediately after Daisy leaves, was so we had 'options'. A thing Rickon won't have with a formal written betrothal."
Sansa fell more serious. "Rickon and Bethany don't seem to mind each other. And I doubt a Blackwood will be left unbetrothed past four moons from now. Lord Blackwood will marry his children or at least betroth them as quickly as he can. He's lost two sons already. He cannot risk his House by delaying. Few can with war upon us."
"And that means Rickon or I have to marry one of them." Arya hated that she understood what her sister was doing. Well fuck. Their resident god wouldn't be leaving them fast enough for Sansa to go and marry stupid Edmund in that case. "I hate that that makes sense."
Her idiot sister's brow rose. "Do you want me to change tacts? There's still time to ensure you're the one who weds Edmund? Or perhaps you'd prefer Alyn? I'm sure he'll be happy to split his duties between you and squiring for Loras. I'm afraid not even I can stomach helping you wed poor Robert, Blackwood or not."
Arya snorted outright. She groaned at the victorious light in Sansa's eye. "You make jokes now? I hate it."
"Of course you do," Sansa replied dryly. "But does that answer your question?"
She felt a terrible suspicion. "Who does this mean you are planning to marry like the idiot you are?"
"Loras." Sansa held up her hand. "I know. Whatever outrage you're planning, I know. But he's the best of the lot. I wouldn't trust a Valeman near my crown, nor another Riverlander if Rickon marries there. The North doesn't have enough sons as it is. I've legitimized twelve bastards already."
Arya kicked her legs in the air between the table she was seated on and the ground her feet didn't reach when she was perched up here. "Romantic, really. Bran and I?"
"There's time and options, though if you conveniently like a man from the Vale or the North that'd be helpful." Sansa held out a scroll. "For Lord Lake."
She reached out, snatching the scroll and weighing it. "I'm not a messenger."
"Of course not. But that is a promise to legitimize his two bastard sons. And if you were to ensure he has it whispered in his ear that I expect him to offer his younger legitimate son to Lord Manderly, well, that would be your job." Sansa's eyes narrowed.
"That's mean." Arya frowned. "Why would Lord Manderly accept? He can do better."
Sansa hummed. "Because he can do better. It'll give him more weight in ensuring the boy doesn't try and take control of Manderly power. And it will give him influence in a part of the North separate from his block of alliances. But not so far as to be pointless. That said he may not accept such an offer. Which is entirely his prerogative. Still, it is of little consequence to ensure he has the option."
"Wonderful, threats to make." She paused. "And Bran?"
For the first time, Sansa looked unsure. "I don't know. Sometimes he seems better…but…"
"Sometimes isn't enough." Arya finished, grim.
Sansa nodded. "Speak with him would you?"
"Obviously." Arya hopped off the table. "You can't control everything."
Sansa's fingertips turned white from how hard she was holding her cup of tea. "I know."
"Nuts by the fire after dinner then?" Arya checked.
Her sister tipped her head. "I look forward to it."
"Well, I'll see you then. Still think you're an idiot." Arya let the seriousness of the conversation before roll off of her as she walked for the door.
Sansa's voice called after her. "Noted."
Arya lazily waved behind her before slipping out the door. She considered her options. Go and threaten an unfortunate Lord Lake, or find Lord Cerwyn and make sure he hadn't forgotten her request for a dragonglass-tipped quarterstaff first? Decisions, decisions.
