Chapter Sixty-Nine
…..
"This is the book that Jon Arryn has been looking for?"
"Yes Lord Hand, I had no idea why the late Lord Arryn, rest his soul had been asking specifically for that book. Quite a bore might I say and one that would not be read for pleasure," rasps Maester Pycelle shakily pointing at the title of the record of lineages book.
"I see, very well Maester Pycelle, you have my thanks," nods Ned at the aging man.
"I live to serve at your pleasure Lord Stark. If there is anything else you might need of me, please do not hesitate to come and ask," and with that parting words, the old Maester wobbles off the door of Ned Stark's office.
The moment the door closes, Ned gives off a sigh of relief as he massages his temple. Barely one week in the office of the Hand of the King and already things are going out of hand. Ned has always known that Robert is rather….robust when it comes into handling things; especially if those things fell into the category of his interests which are basically narrowed down to whores, drink and fighting. However eight million dragons in debt?
"How did you let Robert get away with this Jon?" the Lord of the North asks mentally not truly expecting an answer. He knows that Jon is rather successful….most of the time on putting Robert in line, so where did it all go wrong?
The Small Council is as helpful as a bag of wet tissue paper as far as Ned is concerned. With Stannis absent and with Renly as useful as a peacock feather, he cannot trust anyone. Petyr is as sleazy as a snake and he does not trust Pycelle one bit alongside the Eunuch. Those two after all served under the Mad King. What is Robert and Jon thinking keeping those two under employ?
Things are also hectic at the home front. The animosity between Arya and Sansa is piling up. Sansa is stressed out that Joffrey is not paying attention to her despite being betrothed to one another and takes it out on Arya. The latter of course being the almost carbon copy of Lyanna is pushing back twice as hard with Ned caught in the middle to maintain the peace.
Other than the problems of his daughters, there is also the stress of worrying about the announcement of Robert after the Tourney about his decision on making Myrcella the heir instead of Joffrey. Many a night Ned has been worrying about it, debating it and while accepting that there is nothing that he can do about it. It is the king's decision after all.
The sound of cheers followed by grunts of pain from his window breaks Ned's attention. He sighs once more. At least the Tourney it seems is going very well. Due to the extravagant rewards of the King, a lot of Knights are turning up for the prize. He makes a mental note to give extra payment for his Household Guard later. They are after all volunteered to help keep the peace alongside the Gold Cloaks during the duration of this tourney.
"The people would be a little richer while the pocket of the Crown goes even poorer," Ned sighs wryly to himself.
….
King's Landing Entrance Gate
The familiar sound of hooves thudding on the ground immediately makes everyone not wearing a silk to jump aside as the familiar visages of riders in armor comes into view. This particular set of group however is different from even the usual lords that is currently crowding the city due to the King's Tourney. No, even Lords and Knights make way as the very familiar lion insignia comes into view.
Thinning hair clean and tidy, with a blood red armor with patches of Delianite in golden color, the Old Lion of House Lannister rides into King's Landing with his personal guard.
Tywin Lannister grimaces as the familiar smell of shit and piss come into his nostrils. Capital of the Seven Kingdoms and as usual, this is his most hated feature of it. Jon Arryn really failed as Hand of the King. Not only did he fail to keep Robert in line but also failed on presenting King's Landing as a true seat of power of Westeros. Sanitation might not be one of Tywin's main goals when he's Hand of the King under Aerys, but he sure as hell made sure to at least keep sanitation to acceptable methods. The last thing that is needed on the capital is plague after all (and spare his poor nose of the peasant smell, more importantly).
Alas, he is not Hand of the King, as he rightfully should be and Tywin would bear the lack of that Title until his grandson is king at least. Maybe then he can right the wrong where Arryn failed.
In instinct, he urges his horse faster towards the Red Keep where the smell is better. He does not fail to espy however the familiar brown leather outfits in the crowd doing what seems to be the Gold Cloaks duties.
"What in the world are Stark's Household Guard doing?" he mentally wonders to himself as he rides past them in silence, not even showing a bit of his curiosity.
"Foolish," he once more mentally insults the current Hand. Spreading your Household Guard far away from you is just asking for someone to take an opportunity to rob you, plant something on your personal things and worse, make an assassination attempt to kill you.
The reason however as to why Tywin is really here is to once more try to address the problem that is Robert Baratheon. He has received a few days ago a letter from Baelish again asking for a loan of a hundred twenty thousand Gold Dragons. Of course with the barely stabilizing position that is House Lannister right now, he simply cannot front once more the loan. The slimy eel that is Baelish then of course according to Pycelle after receiving his reply turns to the next institute where he can loan money, the Faith.
Tywin more than anyone understands how important the Faith is maintaining the order and unity of the Realm. Nothing binds people, both lowborn and highborn after all than common belief. However putting too much power on the rather corrupt officials that run the Faith always leads to disaster. Belief after all is a doubled edged blade and the Targaryen kings are right on their decisions on making sure that it always remain blunted lest it be used against them.
Now here Robert is letting Baelish off the hook to borrow money from them even more? The moron fat stag really has a death wish for the future of the Seven Kingdoms especially if the Faith Militant be reformed.
…
Tourney Grounds- King's Landing
The cheers of the crowd echo as the form of Ser Jaimie Lannister performs down below. Apparently the Joust is no longer the favorite anymore of the Tourneys. After the rather spectacular Free for All Bout created by Delianah Tully during the Grand Tourney many years before where men can fight each other off in teams creating a simulation of a battle; the other knights and lords of the realm simply views two mens bashing each other with sticks not that exciting anymore. Thus as the result of such new interests in entertainment, the joust is no longer the main event of the tourney but rather the Melee and that is the reason why everyone is cheering right now.
Normally the First Born son of the Blond Old Lion of the Westerlands does not partake of the Melee due to the severity of injuries it can inflict on its participants. If a Kingsguard ever get such injury, it is a career ender and thus been avoided by most but the most skilled that ever joined the prestigious order.
Jaimie Lannister however is fighting today as an exception. With the death of the Queen under his watch, the abilities of the Proud Lion has been put into question. Thus to put such doubts as rest, he is here once more thwacking every other participant that goes against him for this round of melee fights.
Robert grunts as the man sends two hedge knights into the night with birds on their heads with a few strokes of his sword at the edge of their armor. Despite rather despising anyone with a blond head (Myrcella not included), Robert has to admit that the Lannister former heir is someone that even he can respect as a warrior. Jaimie Lannister has skill as he drops one man after another with ease. Seeing that Arthur Dayne is the knight he has squired under, it is really just no surprise. It is reported by Delianah Tully that Jaimie Lannister has been able to bring down five of the bandits who is responsible for killing Cersei even as they ganged up on him before they successfully brought him down.
Seeing by which Robert has to admit that it is a weird experience not to feel anymore the rather angry glares of his wife. As he said before, he does not hate Cersei but rather she is not the woman that he loves, she is not simply Lyanna. Robert sighs as he stares at the empty seat where Ned Stark is supposed to sit. While Robert is immensely glad that he got his best friend near, he can't help but also loathe himself for doing it. He has seen what the position of Hand of the King has done to Jon Arryn. Robert knows that it is demanding and stressful, especially since the current King of the Seven Kingdoms can care shit about its politics.
Robert might have remained in his taciturn mood if not for a rather familiar silky authoritarian voice.
"My son is performing rather well," the sudden sound at his side nearly made Robert jump three feet off his hide. As it is, he just jerks hard spilling the Firewhisky that he is holding to a rather surprised Lancel Lannister's face.
The result is immediate.
With a pained shriek, the squire of Robert Baratheon runs off in a combination of panic, pain and fear in search of water. The burning qualities of the Firewhisky driving him on like a burning combustible. Unfortunately for him(and everyone else), his direction of running of to is right smack dab in the middle of the audience pushing and shoving people aside.
In Westeros there are two general unsaid rules. Rule number one is always consider every decision you make when dealing with Lords and Knights to consider their pride. Rule number two is making sure never to hurt that pride….publicly.
Unfortunately shoving said Lords face first to the mud (King's Landing Tourney grounds is not as refined as that of Rivendell after all) is officially the very thing that you should not do lest you wish to start a dead wish or a fight.
The moment that Lancel does the shoving as he runs around the rather confused crowd of onlookers, it results to multiple amounts of pushes, a plethora of angry insults and the ones at the very edge of the observation platforms are pushed off to the dirty ground. Within seconds everyone is at each other's throats swords, knives and weapons drawn and hacking one another. The tenuous calm that is called propriety and King's Peace as rival lords think that it is their most hated enemy making a go at them.
Even Tywin Lannister is not spared as a dozen sleeper agents (who are always waiting for the proper opportune time) tries to make a go at the Old Lion's head due to the Chaos. Lords, knights and their men are at a go with each other on the chaos and the once orderly tourney is pandemonium.
As Robert gets his fat ass hauled by the Kingsguard cutting a swathe through the throng to safety, he just bemoans that he would not be joining the good old fashioned fight that is going on.
….
Rivendell Outer Territories
"They are rather….robust, don't you think to Delia?" asks Myrcella looking down at the cheering waving people before also waving back.
"Of course they should be. They are greeting their future queen after all, but more importantly they get to witness the presence of glorious old me,"
Myrcella simply rolls her eyes at the answer of her betrothed. Leave it to Delianah to lack any semblance of humbleness. "Never change Delia,"
"Oh I don't intend to Cella," with a whistle and a laugh she banks hard down with Godric prompting Myrcella to let Ser Arthur follow behind him much to the cheering of the Crowds seeing the Aerodynamic maneuvers that the Gryphons are doing.
Myrcella takes the time to take deep breaths of the crisp clean air of Rivendell as she looks down below with all the entirety of Delianah's kingdom spread out in all sides. She can still remember the talk she has with Ser Arthur during the First Days of Rivendell when it is newly formed. She had asked then if this is how the Targaryens saw and felt when they ride their dragons over the lands they ruled. Now here she is doing exactly what she asked.
The Princess of the Seven Kingdoms treasures this small time of peace and serenity. She is far from the naïve princess that entered the gates of Rivendell. She knows that this transition of power by her father would not in anyways be peaceful. The Lords will not respect her due to her gender and many would judge her by a critical eye. There is also no telling what her brother would do. The only good thing she has on the side problem that is her brother is the fact that Joffrey has little to no political acumen. With her mother dead, there is even less support for him. Myrcella thus has an advantage over him in that area.
Delianah however is leaving nothing to chance. Rivendell is arming itself once again. It's isolationist policy makes Rivendell unique to the other kingdoms seeing that it is not plagued by spies and double-dealers. This enables it to mobilize the entirety of its fighting force without the scrutiny of the other Kingdoms. Word has also been sent at Riverrun to Hoster and Edmure with a secret letter from Delianah telling the two about the king's plan about the succession. The Riverlands would stand with them and also be ready for what is to come.
On the other hand, Delianah is planning that they make sure that she, Myrcella is present when the declaration of King Robert is given. As Delianah so wisely stated:
"Being absent at the day you are announced as heiress by your father would simply be a mental reminder for many that you are a coward and not worthy of following for not showing up,"
Of course this is Delianah however they are talking about. She has taken the two days off for them to rest and relax while Elder Marcus handles the "Opening Salvo" preparations of their arrival at King's Landing. Knowing Delianah, it is something again that would cause an impression that would be recorded in history.
Myrcella however would not have it any other way. She loves the woman after all despite her rather overmuch ideas that tend to rock the known world.
…..
The North
The whinnying of horses can be heard even through the wild landscape. From the eaves of the trees rides out Domeric Bolton and a retinue of his guards bearing the livery of House Bolton. Now one might question why in the world is the Lord of the (now ruined) Dreadfort riding so far away from the palisade that is the capital of his House currently? It's easy….,
Family.
Domeric in every sense of the word is as different from a Bolton as a Bolton goes. Don't get this the wrong way. He is serious, frosty and would not hesitate to run a sword through you if he views you as an enemy. He is of the lineage of the Red Kings of the North after all. However in almost all of his youth he was trained at the Vale where honor and family means a lot and given emphasis to. That is why Domeric is here.
"My lord, this is it and that is him," points out the guide that he has been following these past days. Color Domeric surprise when out of nowhere an anonymous letter appears on his desk telling him that he still has family left.
"Of course, thank you," Domeric simply replies handing over a bag full of silver stags to the man who bows at the gift.
Gulping, Domeric steps down from his horse, his boots crunching the snow on every step. Far ahead he can see the figure sitting over a chopped log, a fire burning in front of him.
"Young man, are you the one they call Ramsay Snow?" he calls out loudly.
As a face pale as winter meets his, Domeric immediately knows that this young man is his family. Those eyes after all are the same ones that he sees on his father; cold, pitiless, a cunning that is rarely seen here at the North.
"Aye, and you must be Lord Bolton, my brother," the one they call Ramsay Snow replies with a smile that is too eerie for any human being.
…
Winterfell, The North
The familiar grey and drab walls of Winterfell are a welcome sight for Tyrion as he finally sees them getting close. Suffice it to say that this trip to the North is not one that he would recommend to anybody. While it is indeed a marvel and a wonder to see the great Wall that is the product of the effots of Bran the Builder, it's interestingness rather wanes when said visitor is focusing on not having his balls be frozen off by the extreme weather.
Still, he has done what he has come to do, he has pissed on the side of the Wall and earned a lot of scathing looks from the Lord Commander who is apparently displeased with his actions. Either way he is heading back now to King's Landing. Apparently his father got the great idea of promoting him as Lord of the Sewers of Casterly Rock to Lord of the Sewers of King's Landing, he is so pleased(and he meant that in the most sarcastic way possible) at this new promotion of his.
"There he is! Get him!" someone suddenly shouts breaking Tyrion out of his daydreaming.
Before Tyrion knows what's going on a fist slams into his face breaking his already crooked nose and making everything in Tyrion's vision cartwheel before he feels the cold hard ground at his back. He can hear the sound of bows snapping followed by meaty smacks and the pained screams of his guards then silence.
Opening his eyes, Tyrion can see through the haze of red the angry face of eldest son of Lord Stark glaring down at him and beside him, his Tully mother. The rest at their sides are men with the livery of the North also staring at him with utmost contempt.
"Wayz yu attackez me?" Tyrion asks through the globule of blood at his mouth, courtesy of bloody gums.
"You dare?! You ordered an assassin to be sent to my youngest son to silence him and you waltz in here as if you are innocent!" hisses Catelyn Tully before drawing somethingfrom her side that makes Tyrion's heart sink.
There in front of him is the Valyrian Dagger he had bought off a Myrish Merchant many moons back. Unfortunately he lost that dagger to a bet to Baelish who had sold it to someone else. Bad news for Tyrion is, he has a bad habit of having his name engraved on his things to keep them from being missing since Cersei and his father seems to take great delight taking things he deem valuable.
Now as his brain processed what he had heard from Catelyn's mouth, the dagger it seems is an accessory of an attempted assassination of her son. It would not be far fetched as to the reasoning why they arrived to their conclusion. If he is at their position, he might have also assumed the same as they do.
Time to stall now however until his father pulls his ass out of the fire. As much as his father hates him, he is still a Lannister after all and Tywin Lannister would rather go bald than have the name besmirched and trodden upon.
"I asshurssh yu, I havesh no ideash asdh to what you are talking aboutsh," moans Tyrion through the pain in his face.
"No idea? You came to our home and we accepted you as our guests giving you our food and shelter. This is how you repay our respect? By trying to kill my younger brother?!" the elder stark seems ready to explode in anger.
"No, you came here last time as a guest Lord Tyrion, but today, you will be welcomed as a prisoner via Northern hospitality," he declares coldly before nodding to his guards. Tyrion can only groan as he is manhandled not so gently as he is hauled to his feet but not before someone kicked his groin in first.
….
Author's Note:
Hello so here's the update. Okay so we're heading to the large climaxes for this arc. Hope you are enjoying the ride.