The sight of the Dragon Gate brought more joy to the Royal Party than anything in the past few months. Though calling it the Dragon Gate these days was odd, since the Dragon's head carving over the gate had been smashed and replaced with that of a Stag's head. People saw it as a symbol of the monarchy changing from House Targaryen to House Baratheon, but really it was King Robert's hatred for all things Dragon that led to this change. When they got near the walls though, the happiness quickly turned sour.
King's Landing was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, situated along the Blackwater Rush and overlooking the Blackwater Bay. The main city was surrounded by a wall, manned by the City Watch of King's Landing. It was the most populous city in Westeros, but unsightly and dirty compared to other cities. It was a city that grew around the first castle that stood where the Red Keep stands today, with no planning or anything drawn for it. As a result of which the buildings just popped up haphazardly and the drainage system was not good in the slightest. The stench of the city's waste could be smelled far beyond its walls.
The people of the city watched as the Royal Party entered, stood on each side of the road and were in awe of the horses, the soldiers, the wheelhouse, the Prince, the hand and the King. None of them tried to get too close, nor did anyone speak. They watched and the party moved on.
Entering the Red Keep was a blessing for the noses of the Party since the stench of the city did not reach Aegon's Hill. The King disembarked from his horse first and walked off with a low grumble about taking a shower and resting. The Queen did the same when she got off, Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen doing the same. Orys would have followed, had a messenger not come up to inform him that a meeting had been called by the Grand Maester. It was no surprise that he would be called. Orys had been sitting in on meetings since he was seven. Though at first, he was a cupbearer for the Hand, a silent learner and nothing more. But once he had earned his Knighthood, he was given a seat amongst them.
"Prince Orys" the Master of Whispers greeted the Prince once he entered the Small Council room. "I hope all has been well with the Progress."
"You're the Master of Whispers, Lord Varys. You tell me" the Prince smirked, the eunuch hiding his face behind his sleeve to hide his smile. Orys' eyes scanned the room, a smile on his face. He saw his uncle Renly there, the Master of Laws, the Grand Maester Pycelle, and the Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. "Where is Uncle Stannis?" he asked.
"Dragonstone" Renly answered, looking bored.
"Have you told him that his King has returned?" the Prince questioned.
"I have sent a letter, my Prince. But I have received no reply" The Grand Maester ducked his head.
"A problem for another time" the Prince muttered, taking his designated seat. His uncle was a strict man, never one to stray from the rules. For him to avoid protocol, something must have happened. He shelved the thought for now, choosing instead to focus on Lord Stark who was escorted in.
"Lord Stark" Varys went to greet him, "I hope your journey has been well."
"Aye, it had gone well" The man shook the eunuch's hand, before moving around him, the serious look on his face being replaced by a smile. "Renly! You're looking well."
"And you look tired from the road" The King's younger brother embraced the new Hand of the King, the look of boredom gone from his face. "I told them this meeting could wait another day, but…"
"But we have a Kingdom to look after" Lord Baelish spoke. "I've hoped to meet you for some time, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn had mentioned me."
"She has, Lord Baelish" the Hand of the King replied, his expression reserved.
"I think small talk can wait for later" the Prince cut in just as Lord Stark took his seat, on Orys' left. "Grand Maester, you have something to give the man, yes?"
"Ah, how forgetful of me" The old Maester dipped his hand in his pocket and from it he fished out a golden brooch, a hand on a circle with a pointed extension, the pin of The Hand.
"Should we not wait for your father to come, Orys?" Lord Stark asked.
"My father is not fond of these meetings I'm afraid. He leaves small matters for the council to deal with" the Prince explained, his lips pursed. Lord Stark nodded and Renly passed a piece of parchment to him.
"My brother instructs us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King" Varys informed the rest of the council. Orys clicked his tongue in distaste.
"And how much does he intend to spend on the winnings?" the Prince asked, already a pit forming in his gut. His father was not known to be a frugal man.
"Forty thousand gold dragon to the champion, twenty thousand to the runner-up, twenty thousand to the winning archer" Lord Stark answered, a little overwhelmed at seeing the amount of the prizes.
"Can the treasury bear such expenses?" the Grand Maester questioned.
"I'll have to borrow it," the Master of Coin said simply but not too happily, "The Lannisters will accommodate. I expect."
"No," the Prince cut in before Lord Baelish could continue. "Cut the champion's purse to twenty thousand and that of the winning archer's to ten. We will not be rewarding a runner-up in this tourney. I will talk to father about this and convince him of such."
"Thirty thousand then" the Master of Coin did not look pleased still. "I'll send a letter to Lord Tywin. We already owe him three million, what's another thirty thousand?"
Lord Stark's head snapped up at the statement, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Are you telling me the Crown is three million in debt?"
"I'm telling you the Crown is four million in debt" the Master of Coin corrected.
"How could you let this happen?" the Hand questioned, his eyes pinned on the Prince.
"My Father loves to indulge himself in wine, women and feasts. What he can't indulge himself in are fights. Nobody in their right mind would fight him fairly, not that he can fight in the condition he is in right now" The boy cleared his throat, a little peeved by the accusing stare. "So he likes to throw these tourneys, enjoy the fights, live through the fighters. And after, shower them with rewards. Jon and then I when I was old enough to try to stop him, but he's stubborn. Se we compromised, we went along with it, but talked him into lowering the winnings every time."
"The Prince has done much to lower the costs and pay off some of the debt to the Iron Bank at least," the Grand Maester said. "We were three million in debt. The Prince made the smart move of converting the lands outside the walls of the city into farmlands, called Maesters from the Citadel to help with agriculture. The lands are very fertile as it turned out and yielded a lot of crops in the past five years. Some of the crops were exported beyond the Narrow Seas to places that needed the food, while most went to the people all around the Kindom. He invested in businesses and got heavy returns from them."
"That is not good enough" The Hand of the King dragged his hand over his face.
"Then you best speak with him on these matters," the Prince said simply. "I can tell you how it would go, but you won't take my answer so you best see for yourself then."
"I will" the Hand of the King sighed. "This tourney is not an extravagance the crown can afford."
"Very well. Should we plan the tourney? Or-"
"Not before I speak to Robert" The Hand rose from his seat and stormed out of the room.
"Well?" Renly asked.
"Get things ready but do not begin work unless you have the go for it" the Prince sighed.
"And then he had the audacity to suggest we cancel the tourney! I am doing this for him and he's being this ungrateful!"
"Father, Lord Stark is a simple man and very unused to anything you do for him. Give him time, I'm sure he'll come around."
The Prince poured his father another chalice of wine. "Though there are somethings that you should look into about this Tourney."
"OH don't tell me you want me to cancel it too!" the King wiped his wine-stained lips on the sleeve of his tunic.
"Cancel? And not win me another honour? Never!" the Prince exclaimed, making the King laugh out loud. "No, I meant, the winnings for the Tourney… Why exactly are we rewarding the one that comes in second?"
"Because they fought bloody hard to get to the finals!"
"And lost. Why are you rewarding mediocrity? As a King as powerful as you, shouldn't you look into the powerful warriors only? Coddling the weak would paint you in all the wrong pictures!"
The King groaned, holding his chalice out to his son. Orys poured him more wine. "I know what you're doing" King Robert muttered, practically inhaling his chalice. "Jon used to do that, without all the buttering up."
"Jon was like a father to you, and I am your son. A son has to butter his father a little to get his way, right?" the Prince asked and the King roared with laughter.
"Aye, you're right" The King had his chalice refilled once more. "Do what you want. I just want to celebrate my friend being appointed the Hand."
"And we will celebrate it" the Prince smiled.
Orys helped his father to bed, pulling the covers over him and waiting until he had passed out before he left the King's chambers. Outside two Kingsguard stood guard at the doors, both of whom bowed to Orys when he walked out. The Prince headed straight to his chambers without wasting any time. He was tired and wanted to finally retire for the night. Alas, that would not be so.
"My Prince" Varys bowed deeply once Orys had entered his chambers.
"Lord Varys" the Prince greeted. The guards at his door had not told him that the Master of Whispers had come to visit him, which could only mean one thing, the spider had utilized one of the secret passages built by Maegor the Cruel. "Is there something important that you wish to discuss?"
"It is about the Targaryens," the Master of Whispers said. Orys motioned for him to sit a the table by the fireplace and the Prince joined him. "Daenerys Targaryen has married the Horselord Drogo."
Horselord, a polite way to say Dothraki. Varys had been informing him about the comings and goings of the Targaryens for a long time, ever since he had first spoken about the possibility of integrating the Targaryen into Westeros once more. There were many supporters who still waited for the banner of the three-headed dragon to flutter over the Red Keep once more. Perhaps a marriage between himself and Daenerys would have gone to ensure peace for the realm. His idea was viciously put down by the Council and he had to hear an earful from his father for it. Only Varys had come to him later and promised to help him restore true peace to the Seven Kingdoms.
"And do they plan to attack the Seven Kingdoms anytime son?" the Prince asked.
"They plan to, but not anytime soon. The Dothraki favour their own omens. Unless they are in favour of a victory, they will not charge. They are headed to Vaes Dothrak as we speak."
"And your bird?"
"Amongst them."
"Good" the Prince hummed, staring at the fireplace for a moment. "Ensure Viserys' death. He must be put out of the way."
"And Daenerys?"
"What about her?"
"What do we do with her? You still wish to marry her, yes?"
It did not sit well with Orys how invested Varys was about this particular part of the plan. "We will let her be for now. But at the first opportunity, bring her over to this side of the Narrow Sea."
The raven's caw had woken him from a well-deserved sleep. He was having such a nice dream as well. There were silver-haired women involved and a giant bed.
Orys sat up in his normal-sized bed and looked out his window. The raven was not there. Another caw and Orys turned his head. He found the bird perched on the ground, the wall behind it open like a large door. A little apprehensive but mostly shocked at the discovery of a secret passageway, the Prince got out of bed, grabbed his sword and tied it to his hip. The raven took flight, passing through the opening in the wall.
The path led him to a long set of winding stairs, narrow and small. He could not rush down them, one wrong step and he would crack his skull. The stairway led him to a cavernous room, dark and damp. Orys knew this place, he used to come down here a lot when he was young. He knew what was stored in this place and every time he came here he would play with it.
The raven's caw drew his attention away, to the bird that was waiting for him in front of a narrow path. The bird hopped through with ease, but for Orys it was a little difficult. He was a big young man, and the path was narrow. He had to walk sideways because he wouldn't fit normally. At the end of the path was a doorway, the door open for him. He passed through it and sighed in relief. He was still inside the castle, but in a dark part that he had never come to.
The raven cawed again, its voice echoing in the room. Orys couldn't find it in the dark, he couldn't even find the doorway he came through. He felt a sharp stabbing pain on the side of his leg. He could not see it but was sure it was the raven. He had been pecked by it before.
The bird pecked him on the shin and Orys took a step forward. The raven was guiding him through the dark, pecking on his leg to tell him which direction he needed to go. Eventually, his foot hit something solid, made of stone. The raven pecked his foot and Orys stepped on the solid surface. It was a set of stairs. He heard the raven take flight and the flapping of its wings. Orys ascended the set of stairs.
The stairs led him to a wall and for a moment Orys just stood there and rubbed his nose, he had hit his nose on the wall. With his other hand, he felt across the wall and the surrounding wall until he felt one of the stones sink in. The wall swung open outwards and Orys stepped out of it without a second thought.
He was standing outside the godswood of the Red Keep, situated inside the Red Keep. It was small, within thick walls, and overlooked the Blackwater Rush. Its trees included elm, alder, and black cottonwood, and the heart tree was a large brown oak. Except here he saw a white weirwood. The tree was large, branches spread around and thick with blood-red leaves. Its carved face was a strange one, one half smiling and the other crying, red sap streaming down from the eyes. Orys had seen this tree before.
He felt something brush against his leg and looked down to see Ghost, the albino wolf of Jon's. The animal was a silent one, but very intelligent. It was looking at Orys with its red unblinking eyes. Two more figures emerged from around him, Lady and Nymeria, Sansa and Arya's wolves. All three wolves stared at him before turning around and approaching the weirwood tree. They laid down under it and soon were fast asleep.
Orys moved forward then, careful to not wake the wolves. He extended his hand and touched the surface of the tree.
He was back in his chambers, staring at the ceiling. Another odd dream…