Why do so few actually care in canon?
The rush to Kingslanding was a sour event and not just because of the stench of shit filling the air, Arya was miserable but he comforted her with hugs and the promise of inviting Nymeria to Storm End when he was older and had more influence. Sansa was equally in despair, but he didn't care, she couldn't be bothered to stand up for her sister. She had become terrified of him, rightly so, he wanted to backhand her across any room they were in. She was, as far as he was concerned, nothing to be cared for. She was weak, meek and pathetic.
As they entered Kingslanding, they were greeted by a meek man. "Welcome, Lord Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The honor of your presence is requested. As is young Lord Orryn, Lord Renly would like you to attend today."
Eddard Stark turned to Jory, his vassal. " Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper. And, Jory, you go with them."
"Yes, my Lord."
The Page nodded. "If you'd like to change into something more appropriate..." Eddard gave him a droll stare, one that made Orryn chuckle before turning to Arya.
"I'll see if we can spar later, okay?"
Arya hugged him. "Please?"
He nodded. "If we get out of this meeting before dark, yes." And he followed Lord Stark from the procession inward. "I have never been in this Castle, Renly trapped me at Storm's End for six years. I never knew much else otherwise. I hope to be of some help, seeing what my Uncle and Cousin are like, I wish to make the best out of what has been."
His eventual father by law, nodded with a warm smile. "I hope that you do so. You seem to be a good lad."
"I do try."
Soon they were in the throne room, where they saw a very smug Jaime Lannister looking at them from on the Iron Throne itself. He was garbed in full golden armor, which honestly looked heavy. "Thank the gods you're here, Stark. About time we had some stern northern leadership."
Ned seemed irritated as he said. " Glad to see you're protecting the throne."
"Sturdy old thing. How many kings' asses have polished it, I wonder ? What's the line ? The King sh¡ts and the Hand wipes."
Orryna laughed. "That was funny."
"Very handsome armor. Not a scratch on it."
"I know. People have been swinging at me for years, but they always seem to miss." Jaime continued their verbal sparring, almost as if Orryn wasn't even there.
"You've chosen your opponents wisely then.
There was a flicker of something in Jaime's eyes. "I have a knack for it. It must be strange for you coming into this room. I was standing right here when it happened. He was very brave, your brother. Your father too. They didn't deserve to die like that. Nobody deserves to die like that."
"But you just stood there and watched."
Orryn finally recognized the look as pain and turned to Eddard. "Lord Eddard, there were over five hundred people some say, that Jaime was the only one that was willing to end the most monstrous force... was a good thing." Ned turned, eyes wide. "Honor is only worth it when the greater good is not endangered. He risked everything to kill a monster, an infection on the land. I can honestly say, I admire him for that."
Jaime actually smiled at him, a warmth filling Orryn's heart at the sight of it. "I am glad someone does."
Uncomfortable, Lord Stark moved past them, with Orryn following after, into the Council of the Hand.
A man, bald and well clothed, stepped forward. "Lord Stark.
"Lord Varys."
Varys spoke softly, genially, but there was a clear falsehood in it. "I was grievously sorry to hear of your troubles on the Kingsroad. We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's full recovery."
Orryn snorted. "What about Mycah, the Butcher's son run down by the Hound, or Arya who nearly was killed by my repulsive cousin? No, spare your false love for that moron." Varys actually recoiled.
"My son... you look well." He turned, and saw his father, handsome and strained. Renly was actually smiling at him, there was real warmth in it.
"Father... I am glad to finally see you again." And he meant it, he may not be fond of Renly persay, but the man had given him an education and chance at mattering.
Renly nodded. "You are my heir, it only feels right you play a part in this council so that you may one day take my place." Orryn walked over to his father, somewhat ignoring the background noise of a small, wispy bearded man and Lord Stark. He sat in a seat next to his father, who began to gesture to each person. "The older man is Grand Maester Pycelle, and the small man is Petyr Baelish, also known as Little Finger, our Master of Coin." He whispered. "He is not to be trusted, ever."
Orryn nodded, cold as ice. "I understand.
"Should we begin?" Grand Maester Pycelle suddenly said, drawing Orryn's full attention.
Ned gaped. "Without the King?"
Orryn's father sighed. "Winter may be coming, but I'm afraid the same cannot be said for my brother."
"His Grace has many cares. He entrusts some small matters to us that we might lighten the load." Varys started.
Petyr Baelish finished. "We are the lords of small matters here."
From within his pockets, Renly pulled out a scroll and handed it to Lord Stark. "My brother instructs us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King.:
The Master of Coin made a sound. "Mmm, how much?"
"40 000 gold dragons to the champion, 20 000 to the runner-up, 20 000 to the winning archer." Ned read from the scroll.
The ancient Maester muttered. "Can the treasury bear such expense?"
"I'll have to borrow it. The Lannisters will accommodate, I expect. We already owe Lord Tywin 3 million gold. What's another 80 000 ?"
Orryn coughed. "How far in debt are we? I was told we were swimming in gold from the Mad King's taxation?"
The Master of Coin smiled. " We are six million in debt."
"How could you let this happen?" Eddard and Orryn barked as one, their voices making everyone cringe.
"The Master of Coin finds the money. The King and the Hand spend it."
Eddard almost growled. "I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm."
"Lord Stark." Orryn started. "You know Robert well, my Uncle is more concerned with drinking and whoring, can you see him attending a meeting? I cannot... we must undo this." He turned to Petyr. "Do we owe the Iron Bank?" The man nodded, and it took everything to not kill the man before him. "Fuck... we are so fucked. They have undone entire rules, we need to pay them off first. That is a priority. Lord Stark, I ask that you give me permission to look over the files and income reports Lord Baelish has, that way we can properly assess a way to undo the damage before it is too late. You can speak to my Uncle about this terrible tournament."
Eddard nodded. "Granted."
And Petyr Baelish paled ever so slightly.
:::
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was a joy to write.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.