Kraven

"What do you think?" Osborn asked, looking up at Kraven. He was trying to appear casual and calm, as if the two of them were old friends. But even if that had been something that Kraven desired the coldness in Osborn's eyes would have ensured that she never trusted him. It was something she figured that he had tried desperately to fix, as it was such an obvious tells if one knew to look for them, but he'd so far failed. It was like asking a bird to remove its feathers or a fish to walk rather than swim. An impossible thing for the man as those cold, calculating, unfeeling eyes were such a part of him that removing them was to yank out a Sept's cornerstone.

"They are good rowers," she said, knowing that wasn't what he was asking about. "Far more polite than the ones on the ship."

"To be fair," Osborn said with a slight smirk, "that might have been because of all the threats you made to them."

"I saw how they were looking at me," Kraven stated, folding her arms over her chest. "Men are desperate creatures at the best of times and being alone at sea does not make for many opportunities for a man to deal with their baser instincts. I merely reminded them that I would never consider their requests."

Osborn laughed at that; a cold sharp sound like a blade left on a block of ice. "I did rather like how you threatened to take their hands so that they couldn't even fuck themselves."

The boat they were in wobbled slightly, Kraven shooting a dark look at Osborn for scaring the men. "If we go in I will ensure that you never break through to the surface again."

"Come now, no need to be rude!" Osborn declared. "We are going to be working closely with each other, after all." He looked up at her, smile far too toothy. It reminded Kraven of when she'd realized that it would have been Rhaenys' 10th name day and even her need for vengeance hadn't been enough for her to continue on. She'd been in the Summer Isles at that point and there had been rumors of a man eating fish that could scent blood for miles away. She'd slashed her palm before throwing herself into the sea, savoring as the salt had burned the wound and urged the monster to come and claim her. For its many teeth to cut into her as the knives have pierced her child's flesh while she had fled like a coward.

'And I was a coward again,' she thought as she looked down at the scars on her left forearm. The beast, a white thing with black eyes and a great girth, had come at her from above and torn into her arm but the pain had caused Kraven to become enraged and she had beaten the great fish, pounding its side with her fist even as its rough skin had torn at her knuckles, until she had rammed her hand into its gills. That had caused it to try and break off, dragging Kraven deep under the water, but she had taken its eyes and then dragged them both to shore.

She couldn't even die right.

"What are you thinking of?" Osborn asked.

"Just that you reminded me of someone I knew."

"Oh? A friend?"

"I was close to them," she state.

"Well, I hope that we can become that close."

"I believe we just might," Kraven said simply before noticing that the rowers were moving towards the shore but a good few miles from their destination; she could barely see it on the horizon. "What is going on?" Osborn opened his mouth to reply but Kraven focused on the man that was at the back of the boat, the clear commander of the four rowers. She had long learned that it wasn't the men who threw around coin that had the answers to the world. Soft hands had soft answers, as her brother had once told her. 'A shame he had forgotten that lesson,' she thought to herself, pushing all things dealing with Doran from her mind, waiting for the sailor to answer.

He was a grizzled thing with a beard thatched with gray, his large droopy mustache just barely managing to hide the chipped teeth that made it look like he had crooked fangs crammed into his mouth. His face was a reddish-tan and marked with scars and burns that could only come from a hard life. Had he been wearing a rougher shirt he could have been confused with the men in his boat who handled the oars. He'd never barked at them, for it had been clear that the four respected him and knew that when he gave a command it was to be obeyed.

So it was surprising when the man stated, "They won't go any further."

Osborn frowned at that. "We need to reach the Tower. I told you we needed to reach it."

"You told us, yes milord," the sailor stated gruffly. "They don't care. They won't sail any further." The boat came to a rest on the shore and at once the two oarsmen leapt out of the boat and began to toss out their bags. Kraven moved to grab her own gear, not wanting anyone touching her spear, swords, or daggers, but Osborn had risen up, the boat rocking slightly on the stony store.

"Then tell them to get going!" Osborn demanded. "We have to get to the Tower and can't be delayed!"

"They will not listen," the sailor stated. "They don't care."

"Is this about coin?" Osborn grumbled. "I thought the men of the Vale were more honorable than this but here, take it. Gold… not even a coin but gold." He took out a few golden nuggets, shaking them in his hand.

But the sailor shook his head and took out the small bag of bronze stars that Osborn had handed them when they'd commissioned the fire at Bildon's Way. "Have the money back. They don't want it."

"What is going on?" Kraven hissed as she walked over to Osborn. "What is wrong with this Tower that you have spooked men not to take decent coin."

"I have done nothing!" Osborn snapped, his good humor having disappeared.

"They act like the coins carry a curse," Kraven pointed out.

"…then I guess they are!" Osborn roared before suddenly pulling a dagger from his belt and driving it into the old sailor's eye, sending him to the ground in spasms. He ripped the blade free and pointed it at the four oarsmen, gesturing at the boat. "Now get in!"

The oarsmen looked at each other before taking off in a dead run.

"…kill them!" Osborn declared.

Kraven merely strapped a sword to her side before she picked up her bags, one draped over her shoulder, the other held easily in her hand. She'd be able to drop both and draw her blade in seconds if she needed too. "Come, it's still early so we can easily make it there before the sun begins to drop."

"Chase those dogs down!" Osborn roared, moving to get in front of her. "They disobeyed us-"

"They disobeyed you. And they only did that because you are a fool. I don't hunt men who don't deserve it. Those men have done nothing but make a choice." With that she moved to continue on but Osborn stepped in front of her. "You saw me kill the Lizard, Osborn. You know just how deadly I can be. Do you REALLY want to push me?" She looked down at him, a single eyebrow arched up in challenge.

After several moments Osborn finally moved aside.

"I was only trying to help you," he stated. "I have far less to carry, after all."

"I'll manage," she said. "I've carried far heavier things than this."

The walk along the shore wasn't easy but Kraven had suffered through far worse. She had been weaker then too. A traitorous body that screamed with every step. Limbs that felt heavy despite how thin they truly were. Lungs that refused to fill with air and a heart that beat too hard. Now though she could easily handle ten times the weight that she carried. Yes, the shore was rocky and uneven and seeded with plenty of holes that threatened to take her feet. Osborn tripped within the first twenty minutes and Kraven half wanted him to twist his ankle so she could leave him to die in the surf. The other half didn't as she had a feeling he'd scream at her to carry him and she'd be forced to if she wished to not be turned away at the Tower. The vain man grumbled about how his clothing got damp but did his best to try and return to his charming ways.

It was an utter failure and only served to annoy Kraven all the more.

'This is a poor stretch of land to defend,' she thought to herself as they continued along the shoreline, a small tower barely 5 stories tall with a little village that looked rundown even for the area at its front. 'There is nothing to naturally protect them and while they can see any army coming there wouldn't be much to do to stop them. And a landing party could easily attack from the sea.' There was a reason why castles upon shorelines, which didn't have natural cliffs to build on such as Storm's End, had great walls to protect them. 'Then again who would care to attack this place?'

"The Tower has no name," Osborn said suddenly, clearly having decided that he didn't like the silence and wanted to fill it up as quickly as he could. "Its founder was never able to settle on a name… and the ones he chose were abandoned quickly."

"Why is that?" Kraven asked; despite all she had done to transform herself into a warrior the sickly woman who had only the comfort of history books remained buried deep within her. Elia might be dead (something she had sought to have and gained while Kraven had sought and failed) but her ghost remained.

Osborn smirked. "Because he was Braavosi and all his names made sense to only someone from that Free City. The peasants of Westeros couldn't wrap their minds around the titles he gave his tower, for they referenced myths and legends that none of them had ever heard. He tried so very hard to appear Westerosi but then he would do foolish things like that and well… more than one villager whispered that Lord Arryn had sold off land to foreign devils."

'They said the same thing about me,' Kraven thought bitterly. 'How dare the Dragons mingle their blood with the filthy Dornish… never mind that we never bent the knee and only allowed them to be our kings because they begged and bribed us.' Out loud she stated, "And the Founder still hasn't found a name?"

"Well him no, because he's long dead. Barely even bones at this point." Osborn shrugged as they took a small bend and saw at last the path that would make for smoother walking. It was well worn and had nearly as many holes as the rocky shoreline but it was at least smoother and didn't threatened to send Osborn toppling with each step he took. "His son attempted to come up with a name himself but he felt every idea he had was too lowly or too grand for such a spot. That is the problem with being the smallest lord among small lords, after all. You are desperate to prove yourself, to show that you deserve respect. But you also know that if you push too hard you will be mocked. The Freys made that mistake time and time again. The Peakes too and we know how it ended for them when they angered Aegon the Dragonbane." He paused. "Oh, I am terribly sorry. I shouldn't have brought them up."

"Why not?" Kraven asked as the made for the village proper. "Dead Targaryens are my favorite subject." She smirked at that before turning back towards the village. "So no name?"

"No name," Osborn confirmed. "And that lord's son never bothered to name it… honestly he never spent a day at his seat. His father was alive when he was called to King's Landing by Jon Arryn and with him now dead he will never claim it."

"And he had no children?"

"No," Osborn stated. "For a man that made much gold on whores Petyr Baelish failed to even father a single bastard. But I guess he was too busy helping fund Robert's fun making his own bastards."

Kraven paused. "You had not told me your employer was the Usurper's coin miser."

"Does it matter?" Norman asked. "He is dead, as is Robert. Joffrey too. The ones that remain you will have the rights to kill. Does it matter who we avenge if it gives you the blood you desire?"

"I would not have any assume I am in league with their filth. The Lions will die just as much as the dragons you have promised me." In a lower voice she growled, "Dragons that have yet to show themselves."

"As I stated you will get them. The messages left to me by Lord Baelish made clear who I should recruit for these tasks and why."

"What are you getting out of this?" Kraven asked as they entered the village proper. It was a quiet place filled with dark huts made of straw and roughly made mudbricks, bits of fishing gear strewn about on every wall and near every door.

"Coin," Osborn admitted.

"You are already wealthy."

"And a rich man stays wealth by gathering more." Osborn's smile fell. "Its too quiet."

Kraven looked around and cursed herself for not noticing. "There should be some people here, even if most are fishing." She looked about, hand itching to go for her sword or to unsling her spear. "Where are the wives repairing nets or the old men seeing to the salting of trout and salmon?"

"I don't know," Osborn stated, his good cheer gone and replaced with the steeliness of a warrior; if only he had presented himself to Kraven like that most of the time she might have been able to tolerate him. "Perhaps word reached them of Baelish' death and they've fled before the new lord could be chosen."

"You know they have not."

"I checked in Gulltown," Osborn informed her. "No… the king doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry."

"So they were either driven out… or have decided to help themselves." She nodded towards the tower of House Baelish.

"If they did then they die," Osborn snarled low. "The instructions left by Baelish were clear that the tower was to be used as our base of operations."

"Then we best go see if his wishes have been respected."

It didn't take them long to get through the village and finally reach the door to the tower. There were no guards, no barking dogs, not even a small wall or a fence to try and keep one from reaching the front step. It was no different that walking along a hall from one bedroom to the next. There were no signs of greenery along that rocky spot of land; no flowers and trees to warm it and make it feel more inviting. One couldn't even claim that it was the kind of tower where a maiden fair would be locked away, waiting for her prince to come. The best hope for rescue any young lass would have would be the brown little crabs that looked more like rats than anything else. The Narrow Sea held no beauty either; the Fingers were too far North to be inviting for swims and too far South to freeze over to allow children to play games upon them as the sun danced along the ice. It was a dreary place that seemed far more like a punishment than a prize in Kraven's view.

"Home sweet home," Osborn stated as he took out a worn key and inserted it into the lock… only to frown and push the door open.

Silence was the only thing that greeted them.

"Well…" Osborn stated as they entered, looking at the cold candles that sat about the dark main floor of the tower, "no one has been here for a while. That is a good thing."

"No, its not," Kraven said, dropping her bag and pulling out a pair of hunting knives. They were too long to properly skin and field dress an animal but that's why she selected them; they were built for this kind of work. "Smallfolk don't leave things lying about. And bandits and robbers watch homes all the time. If you ever believe that you are safe and there is no threat that could come from someone longing to break down your door and claim what is yours as their own… then its mostly certainly too late for you." She entered further into the tower. "This place should show signs of people coming in and out. Taking objects." She reached out and ran her finger along a table where several candles had been placed, the digit coming back coated in dust. "But no one has moved anything in here for a while."

Osborn looked about, rubbing his chest. "That… is odd." He moved deeper into the tower, Kraven holding the door so they weren't suddenly cast into darkness if it closed. The man took out a piece of flint and a knife, igniting a candle and using it to light several others around the room. Then, and only then, did Kraven shut the door, which swung back with such force that its boom echoed through the depths of the tower, rising up like smoke and bouncing about the walls.

Something clattered upstairs in response.

At once Kraven tensed, looking at Osborn who merely nodded and moved towards his bag. He impressed her by not producing a sword but a knife himself, along with a small shield that featured the leering smile of a green creature with pointed ears and manic eyes. Both were best suited for fighting in enclosed quarters and along stairways; Kraven wondered just how much of Osborn's comments and actions were real and how much were acts he created to lull all those around him into a false sense of security. His posture, how he balanced himself… Osborn knew how to fight. And not the classical training of a rich pampered lordling who only knew their way around blunted blades.

'Candles can be used to set a man's clothing on fire and wax can be used to blind,' she thought as she followed his gaze, guessing what must be running through his mind. 'The table is solid, sturdy. It can take several good strikes. But that chair is weak… shatter it and you could have a weapon if you lost your blade.'

Osborn wasn't merely a fighter.

He was a killer.

'Good,' Kraven thought to herself, 'one less thing I need to worry about.' Nodding towards the stairs Osborn returned the gesture and the two of them began to make their way up the tower, one floor at a time. The stairs were off set at each floor, meaning one couldn't travel directly from the bottom floor to the top in one go. They had to climb up and then move along a hall, passed the closed doors or other rooms, to reach the next flight. 'Positives and negatives in that. Easier to hide and attack an invader. But if one needs to smoke out someone they can become trapped far easier.'

If she didn't believe that Osborn would protest destroying the tower, since he held that they needed it, she would have tried burning the thing down to draw out whoever was above. But that was overkill and something she wasn't interested in doing.

Osborn leaned in close and to prove again he was more cunning than he let on he pressed his lips against a cloth to muffle his voice. "Were we just hearing things?"

"No," Kraven stated, making her voice as soft as she could so it wouldn't echo. "There is someone up there. An animal would have tried to flee when they heard us… they wouldn't remain this still."

What she didn't tell him was that she was only half right when it came to animals. Prey would flee. Prey knew that to stay still was to die. Prey that waited for hungry jaws to get closer and hoped they would be passed down did not often live to attempt such a trick a second time.

'A predator though,' Kraven thought to herself darkly, 'they will wait. Remain utterly still. Many think that the hunt is all rushing about and constant movement. But lions and wolves and other great beasts… they are the most cautious and careful of creatures. They understand that one false step means failure and in the wild failure usually means death. No… they are willing to wait.'

She glanced up as they began to make their way along the hallway towards the next set of stairs.

'And we are dealing with a predator.'

Kraven checked the first couple rooms but seeing they were little more than servants' quarters that appeared to not have been used in at least a year or two she moved past them and soon abandoned even checking the doors at all, moving past all the ones on the third story completely and then the forth. The fifth story she knew should hold the lord's solar, as most towers had the lord stationed near the top of the tower with only a small attic-like structure above them, if even that.

That was also, she knew, where their mysterious intruder was.

The stairs creaked as she placed her foot upon the first one and she shared a look at Osborn, who shrugged and gestured at her, rather pleased that it had been her that revealed they were climbing up rather than him. With a huff Kraven spun her knives once before rushing up the stairs, slamming her shoulder against the door and shattering it.

Inside was the solar.

It was perhaps the only impressive part of the entire tower, taking up the entire floor, with only two side doors that probably held a privy and the lord's sleeping chamber. There was no attic room that she could see and that allowed the solar to have a higher roof and thus appear larger than it truly was. Solidly built furniture that must have taken several large men to get up all the stairs filled it and on the walls were all manners of weapons and the captured flags long faded that drew Kraven's eye for just a moment before she moved on in her examination. Rugs from Myr and leather bond books of Braavosi design were found scattered about, as were other trinkets that were fair too wealthy to belong in such a place and thus clearly had been obtained as spoils of war rather than bought. A set of foreign armor that she couldn't place, possibly from Volantis, stood in one corner near the shuttered window. Maps were hung that showed off different sections of the Riverlands, with the Fingers having the most detailed of drawings.

Osborn nodded to a table and Kraven walked over, confirming that yes, there were candles and they had recently been lit.

"We know you are here," Kraven said in a firm voice, holding her knives at the ready. "Come out."

She moved towards one of the doors, ready to encounter a madman; that was feeling like the most likely outcome. Some deranged fool had gotten into the tower and had been squatting in the solar and when he'd heard them he'd scurried to the final rooms to tuck himself away in. The truly savage and wild, who had lost their sanity completely, could be like spiders at times. People thought that the manic were always gibbering wrecks but Kraven knew better; no… they could be silent. Still. Curling in on themselves and entertained by their madness before they burst out of whatever hole they had burrowed themselves in.

'Aerys never scared me when he was on his throne screeching and screaming and making threats,' she thought to herself. 'It was when I was moving through the halls and he'd suddenly burst out from a room, roaring that I was trying to take the throne from him. That is when I felt fear.' It was why Rhaegar had commanded her uncle Lewyn to be her sworn sword, as was the right of the future Queen of Westeros; one of the only things Rhaegar had done that did not make her curse him. 'But even that turned into a poisoned chalice when he used me against him.'

She narrowed her eyes. She was getting distracted.

Kraven moved towards the first door, Osborn moving with silent steps to the side so he wouldn't be visible, and on unspoken count of three she threw open the door to find… nothing. Just an empty privy. One that hadn't been used in ages which actually caused it to be one of the better privies she had ever walked into. Knowing that that left only the final room Kraven turned.

And found the armor now right in front of her.

"Hello," a voice echoed from it.

Kraven did not screech and start in terror. Instead she lashed out, slamming her foot into the breastplate and sending the armored figure crashing through the window and out of the tower completely.

"Fucking ass," she snarled in annoyance. "Come, we'll need to see what… we… can…"

The Armor rose up and through the window, floating there for a moment before landing once more.

"Normally I would be livid about that," the figure within stated, "but I suppose I do deserve that for sneaking up on you. Dreadfully sorry, Princess." He gave a bow, rolling his hand before him as he did so to add a quick flourish.

Kraven narrowed her eyes. Yes, it was surprising that the figure could fly… but it wasn't the oddest thing that she'd seen ever since she'd been smuggled across the Narrow Sea. There were wonders and terrors in those lands that Westeros had no hope of competing with. "Do not mock me."

The armor turned towards Osborn. "I would have thought it was the flying that would have been the first thing she commented on."

"I would have thought all in Westeros would know of the Iron Man," Kraven stated. "Even in Essos tales are told of the knight that can unleash the wrath of the sun from his hands and who can float in the sky like a bubble."

"Yes, and I suppose you were paying attention to them quite well. He did kill the Mountain, did he not? Some would be pleased that the man was dead but from what I've heard you weren't pleased at all. The opposite, in fact."

'He was mine,' Kraven thought darkly. 'Gregor Clegane was MINE!' All she had done had been for him, ever since she had allowed herself to be dragged from the Red Keep in the middle of the night, whispers that Tywin Lannister was marching on King's Landing ghosting along her ears and empty promises that her children would be brought to her within a day. He had raped the woman that posed as her, using the blood of Aegon to lubricate his cock. He had BRAGGED about it, at least until Lord Tywin Lannister had silenced him, knowing that it would bring about the monsters that would bring all of them crashing down.

Monsters like her.

Everything had been about slaying him. And whoever had killed her daughter. The spells and potions to strengthen her body, to make her muscles swell as her bones popped and grew. The training to teach her how to kill with every weapon known to man. The hunts against the deadliest of beasts. All so that when she found him she could not merely kill him but do so with such ease that he would feel as Aegon had. Helpless. Frightened. And then, when that was done, she would be able to curl up in a hole and finally die.

And the Iron Man had stolen that from her.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm very pleased. Not skittish in the slightest, able to get by without gaping at me in shock. Far better than the villagers when I first arrived back here." The armored man shrugged and moved towards the large desk at the back of the solar. "You've done well, Osborn… very well. And you!" He whipped around and took in Kraven. "When Osborn told me he was seeking out Princess Elia Martell I thought him mad! First because you, well, died." For some reason that made him chuckle. "Foolish of me to be worried about THAT. But also because you were known for being sickly, especially after the birth of your son. And yet…" He looked up at her and she could hear the smile in his words, "…there is nothing sickly about you. Tell me… how did you do it? You are nearly twice as tall as you were before. And certainly several times wider. I would have taken you for the green giantess that Stark has now in his employ if, well, you were green."

Kraven didn't say a word, though she was pleased to learn that the emerald woman she'd heard whispers about was apparently real. She longed for a challenge and she had a feeling the one who had become known as The Incredible She-Hulk, named so after the great gladiator The Incredible Hulk that some claimed she was related to, could give her just that. The She-Hulk might be the only being left on Planetos who could grant her a swift death.

"Ah well," the armored figure stated, "your secrets, I suppose. I understand that. Secrets have power… you are wise to hide yours." He looked to Osborn. "I'm pleased, Norman. Very pleased. Even if things have changed I am pleased."

Osborn frowned before he started. "Lord Petyr Baelish?"

"In the flesh." Again he chuckled and Kraven didn't know why.

"But… the reports I received that activated our plan," Osborn stated. "You died to Sandor Clegane."

"First off it is MY plan, not ours. Don't begin claiming things that don't belong to you. As for my death…"

The helm of the armor folded away revealing a translucent head. It was faintly blue but still held the shape and size of a human head. She could see the hairs on the top of his skull and the glimmer in his eyes. There was no damage, no destruction as she had learned had occurred to the Master of Coin. His head had been lopped off, dipped in tar, and left on a spike upon the gate of the Red Keep to warn all what happened to those that slayed kings.

'Considering Lord Tywin had allowed the last one to keep his white cloak…'

"Well, as you can see… death isn't as permanent as we think," Petyr Baelish stated with a smile.

Kraven raised an eyebrow at that little reveal.

"You aren't startled?" Baelish asked. "People normally are startled. Cersei went white as a sheet when she first saw me and the villagers… well, I had to show them that death could be permanent when they panicked. A pity as I had several ideas for them but we won't be staying here too long for that to matter. Still… I expected you to at least gasp. No questions either?"

"Just two," Kraven stated flatly. "First, can anyone come back? And second if they do can they be killed again?"

"No to the first," Baelish said without revealing just HOW he had come to his ghostly state. "And to the second I hope you aren't thinking of terminating our partnership. Because I will warn you now that I have died once and I have no taste to sample that a second time."

"I was more hoping of dragging my fool of a husband from the Seven Hells and killing him myself."

Baelish snickered at that.

"Well, not sure I can give you that one but if I can I would be more than happy to provide it. Might actually be worth experimenting with… after all, I have all of time now to do as I wish. Still, we have other matters to attend to." With that he moved to sit down at his desk and after a shared look Kraven and Osborn joined him. "The original plan was for you to assemble a group that would seed terror and destruction through all of Westeros. I always knew that the high lords would try and have me killed… they don't like to share power and never accepted me as one of their own. That is the fault in this… system… that the Seven Kingdoms has created. We state that if a peasant works hard their son might become a servant to a lord. Their grandson a knight. And their great grandson landed. A few more generations and your family is lordly. Except-" he held up his finger, "-they will never forget who you are. Never mind that the Lannisters came from a single trickster, the Baratheons from a bastard, the Tyrells stewards. All should understand but they don't care. Because now they are on top and they don't want to share. So yes… they were going to kill me.

"That was something I was never going to let go. If I had to end up in the afterlife I wanted to be ready to laugh as the rest of them came crashing down along side me. That is where you came in, Osborn. You would gather together the group we selected and you would have overseen them slaughtering all my enemies. Ned Stark's head lopped off his shoulders. The Lannisters left utterly penniless and the Iron Bank whipping the flesh from Cersei's tits as punishment. The Tyrells forced from Highgarden and watching as another took their place. Again and again and again. I wanted chaos to be my legacy."

"But things have changed," Osborn said slowly.

"Oh, very much so!" Baelish chirped happily. "Now that I get to be here I can make the plans far less messy. Though, and I will admit this, they are going to be a bit more bold."

"What do you have in mind?" Osborn asked, leaning forward.

"Westeros is broken," Baelish stated. "It has been for a very long time. It is a cup that keeps getting chipped and hastily repaired. And no one says a word about the cracks and the leaks because it is 'tradition' to have it as it is. I want to shatter it and rebuild it to how it should be. None of this foolish Seven Kingdoms rubbish… One Kingdom. One Crown. One King. No more Lords Paramount and Wardens. There will be the people and there will be the king. The game of thrones will be won at last and never played again."

That made Osborn laugh. "You don't go small, do you?"

"Not at all," Baelish replied. "But to do this we must be willing to be bold. If you look at history it takes boldness and grandness to make true change. The Blackfyres failed to understand that, as did the Dornish." He smiled at Kraven but she didn't react; she was well aware of the weakness that was her family. Doran kissing the robes of the men that had slain her children, Oberyn not using his brain to properly avenge her, her nieces all too blunt and wild and self-centered to be of much use. The cunning that they praised Dorne for seemed to have drained away with each passing generation. "I wish to build something that will last. I will be the Stringless King, immortal and ever lasting. And I want my kingdom to be just that."

"Pretty words," Kraven said. "But it will not be such boasts that get me to assist you."

Baelish raised an eyebrow. "You are here."

"Osborn promised me the death of my enemies."

"You will have them," Baelish said. "Your enemies are mine."

"Do not pretend that I am some naïve child or a thoughtless beast," Kraven warned. "I might have been a frail child once and now am the Mountain's equal but I am no fool, Lord Baelish. I learned in halls of Sunspear how one must make friends out of enemies; that a knife must be used to cut them a piece of beef rather than stab them in the heart." She tapped the table with her finger. "You desire your kingdom and for that people must be left alive. And to control them you will need others… you can claim you want to destroy the great houses but that will leave you to deal with every headache that comes. No… you will need someone to rule in your place to deal with the trivial matters and who would you put in charge if you slaughtered every great house? Another one? The Redwynes instead of the Tyrells? Or perhaps the Fossoways, red or green? You are merely replacing one with another and doing so will create much work for you."

Baelish leaned back in his chair. "Do you truly wish them all dead? Even the children-"

"No!" she snarled.

"Then I truly don't see the issue, Pr… Kraven," Baelish stated. "In order to achieve what I wish I will need to remove the heads of the beasts and the flowers. Then their children will fall in line. Mace Tyrell and his children will die, for example, but so long as we find a Tyrell in the crib they can be raised to govern… and love me. Same with the Starks and the Lannisters and the rest. You can have your revenge. As much as you wish."

"I have been promised that many times," she warned. "Osborn saw what I did to the last that lied to me."

Baelish looked to the man in question and after a moment Osborn smiled. "An arena owner in Volantis promised our companion a dragon to slay. They gave her a Lizard Man."

"Ah," the specter stated, a smirk forming on his lips once more. "Of course. A promise was made. Expected that it wouldn't be kept but so poorly?"

"Mock me again and we will find out if I can kill a ghost a second time," she snapped.

Baelish though merely leaned forward. "I'm honestly tempted to let you try… I would be curious if you could actually manage it." He held her gaze for several long moments before leaning back and laughing. "Ah, but there is no need for that because unlike that fool that tried to rob you I am going to give you exactly what you want. Starks dead. Lannisters dead. Baratheons dead. Tullys dead. I'd offer you the Arryns but let's be honest there aren't that many left and there is no sport in killing a broken woman and her sickly son that still suckles at her teats. I will deal with her. You will get the Starks."

"I want dragons, not wolves," Kraven said, standing up. "And there is one in Meereen. I was working to prepare myself to slay her dragons and now you two have made my journey longer." With that she turned and walked away.

"Rhaegar's son by Lyanna lives."

Kraven paused.

"Lyanna died giving birth to a child. The child that Rhaegar named true born."

She set her jaw, remembering her husband's promise.

"Aegon is the Conqueror come again," he whispered to her as he looked down at the cradle that held their baby boy. "He had two wives… an elder and a younger. Rhaenys will be his brilliant advisor, the one that is beloved by the people who helps bring music and song once more to Westeros. Who will inspire those with creative minds to rise up once more and push us to greater heights." He smiled as he stroked Aegon's cheek. "But he needs a Visenya. A warrior who will fight his battles. Any child by her can not come first… we can not have another Maegor… but he will need her all the same. I will not risk you, wife. I will not endanger you after you nearly died giving us our son. It was cruel of me to force you to do this and I won't again. The Northern Girl though…"

Elia nodded. She had been pleased by her. She was fierce and brave when she had disguised herself as the Knight of the Laughing Tree and dealt with those squires. She would breed a fine daughter for her husband, she knew that. It was why she had agreed to allow Rhaegar to name her the Queen of Love and Beauty and why she had told her brothers and her Uncle Lewyn to stay their hands when their fierce Dornish blood had screamed for vengeance.

Still…

"It must be done in secret. Let your cousin Robert believe the girl fled on her own… she is wild, people will believe that she disappeared to Essos. Perhaps we can set her up there. Only when he is married with children and the kingdom has forgotten about her will we bring her daughter to us and you might legitimize her."

"It will be done with the utmost care," he swore.

'The bastard wouldn't know subtly if it punches him in the face!' She mentally raged. She remembered how he had turned the idea of having a secret meeting with a few lords so they might plot to get him named Hand of the King into the Great Tourney of Harrenhall that was supposed to end with a great Council where all the heirs of lords would open sealed letters from their fathers ordering them to declare for Rhaegar, to name him king. The same had been true with Lyanna. The plan was supposed to be that she would disappear during a hunting trip, leaving a note that she couldn't marry Robert, and then Rhaegar would arrange for her to flee to Essos. He would meet with her and, with Elia watching, they would produce a daughter that would be brought up with the best teachers from Dorne and King's Landing.

Instead the fool had 'kidnapped' her, married her, and taken her to fucking Dorne just to truly spit in her face and show how STUPID he was.

'I wonder if his balls still ached when he fought Robert,' Kraven thought as she remembered how she'd driven her knee into his groin with enough force that the Kingsguard had thought she'd killed him. She turned back to Baelish and stated, "His son lives?"

"One I imagine he considered bypassing your child for. After all, it is known that the Conqueror had two wives but he loved the second more…"

"Who is it?" she hissed, wondering who this child was and what she would do to them when she found them. He was a dragon, yes, but he was also a Stark which should meant she'd flay the flesh from his bones… but if he were a victim like her she might instead find an ally. Someone willing to work with her to kill Daenerys before the two traded blows and ended each other.

"That you will learn when our task is complete," Baelish said. When Kraven turned to glower at him he merely smirked. "Come now… if I told you then you'd run off to kill him. He is in Westeros so it's a shorter trip." She hated that he was right. "But you will be given much to do to slate your lust for revenge. I am sending you North, to look into some things for me, to perhaps add another to our number. A king needs his Small Council."

"Oh?" Osborn asked, perking up at that.

"Yes, of course!" Baelish said. "I will be the King of Westeros. And… ah, he returns now."

She heard a whooshing sound, like a sword being swung, and from the window behind Baelish came a man dressed in dark clothing with a pair of gleaming metal wings attached to his back and a helm that looked vaguely like the head of a bird of prey. Upon his breast was a pin depicting a talon holding a sword.

"You will like this… he is the next in line of a folk hero from your homelands," Baelish stated. "I give you my Hand, Ser Adrian the Vulture King."

The figure removed his helm, revealing a worn face that spoke of a life well lived. He dipped his head to Baelish who nodded and waved for him to take a seat.

"The prisoners are secure," he stated. "And the guards I have hired will watch them. They know not to listen to a word they say… it would be their death to do so."

"Splendid," Baelish said happily. "And you arrived in time. Could you retrieve the gifts?" Ser Adrian nodded and walked over to a small trunk, opening it and producing two bundles that he brought over to them.

Baelish selected the smaller of the two. "I name you, Norman Osborn, the Goblin King, my Master of Whispers. And as for your gift…" he produced a glass orb, tinted orange in color. "Ser Adrian's friend Phineas came up with this… a refined version of Wildfire. This is but one."

"He calls it a Pumpkin Bomb," Ser Adrian said with a huff.

Osborn looked over the glass orb, smile stretching over his mouth. "Yes… I think I can make use of these." He looked at Ser Adrian. "I'd like to talk about those wings as well."

"All in good time," Baelish said, cutting him off. "And you, Princess Elia Martel, Kraven the Hunter, King of the Hunt, I name you my Master of Laws. To bring justice to all."

He unwrapped the larger bundle… and produced a gleaming white sword.

"The blade of Lewyn Martell, retrieved from the Battle of the Trident and obtained by me for a pretty penny."

Kraven reached out and took the hilt of the sword. She KNEW it was her uncle's… it was no fake. It was like seeing him alive once more, seeing that sword that he had carried in protection of her.

"…your grace," she said, dipping her head.