Chapter III: Have Friends

Have friends. They are a second self. To a friend, another friend is always good and wise; between friends, everything turns out well. You are worth as much as others say you are, and to win their good words, win their hearts. Performing a service for another works like a charm, and the best way to win friends is to do people favours. The greatest and the best that we have depends on others. You must live with either friends or enemies. You should make a new friend every day, if not a confidant, then at least a supporter, for if you have chosen well, some will later become confidants.

Baltasar Gracian, The Pocket Oracle and Art of Prudence

Red Keep

The King's Chambers

I met with Cregan Stark in the intimacy of my own chambers, for my own dealings with him had need of a great deal of time and talk. Having surfaced the age of fifty, Lord Stark enjoyed, as some would say, the wisdom of old age, though unlike some, he was not eager to dispend it with a smug countenance. He was thin and reedy, his face gaunt and bluish, and his breath sometimes ran short, likely as a result of the Winter Fever that beset the kingdom at the beginning of my father's reign. Some said that the cold and shivers never left him since, and not even the heat of the South brought him reprieve. He was the perfect portrayal of his House's words: winter had touched him, left its mark upon him, and made him its own.

Unlike some sycophants, Cregan was not one to drown me in flatteries or eager to ask what reason I had to invite him to dine with him. He was a man whose silence spoke more than his words, for while his words could reduce a grown man to embarassement, I had seen young knights reduced to shivering wrecks by one stare from Cregan Stark, with one eyebrow raised. Stark was thus, not a man to whom you wished to make a good impression. He commanded respect even in the face of fools, and even the most self-absorbed, peacocky young men fled his presence the moment his eyebrow raised. The young Bernard Tyrell proved quite an example of it, when he praised his father's handling of Dorne. Where some other men would disagree vehemently, all that Stark had to do was say nothing. Of course, that had his downfalls, for if Stark was silent for other reasons, men would become convinced of his own disdain, and determined to prove him wrong. They would make boasts of future deeds of arms, and in trying to win the Old Wolf's approval, they were certain to lose it.

Such was the man that stood before me. He was a man who I would not have to deal with in flatteries, or much words. As such, I put the matter of the New Gift before him in quite a fortright manner.

" I would say this plain – whatever elogies that maesters have brought to "the Good Queen" Alysanne are not those with which I would agree. Not only she took land from a leal lord to whom her husband brought only troubles, she displayed a lack of judgement in giving the Watch a greater burden and no means to deal with it. I would like to think that the loss of our dragons has brought us Targaryens closer to the earth. It is not in my own power to return the Gift, for the Night's Watch is not part of the realm. The Iron Throne, however, has nothing against any such deals that House Stark's would make with the Watch to receive these lands back."

" The Iron Throne is willing to renounce half of the taxes that these lands would owe to it, and see them given to the Black Brothers. The decline of the Watch and Wildling incursions have made us consider the need for a second line of defence to the North. As such, I would see these lands given the privileges of a March, provided that whatever lords you seek to install there would provide service in defending against raiders, and aid the Watch in their need. Thus, they may keep any number of men-at-arms that they would judge fitting for such purposes, and even bind every goodman settled there to bear arms for his own defence, shall be spared the obligation of providing military service beyond the borders of your own kingdom, and given the right of high justice, to hand whatever punishment the Warden of the North might wish to establish for the breaking of the peace. I judged it good that you should not appoint any higher lord upon them, but be answerable and swear only to House Stark, as their Lord-Warden of this March."

Cregan nodded, with the ghost of a smile upon his face. "It is a settlement well thought of, your Grace. Mayhaps Lord Umber or some chieftains might not be such pleased that their lands would not return to their own jurisdiction, but they'll nevertheless be happy enough to have some cousin or other given a holdfast."

"While it might seem that I seek to drown you in favors, you and I know that I only seek to redress past wrongs and forgotten pacts. My uncle, Jacaerys, once promised the hand of his own daughter for your heir. Yet the Seven-in-One willed it not. My uncle's promise still binds my house. And while your son Rickon has died in Dorne, Lord Jonnel is still umarried, as is my own sister Daena. My own honor deems me to offer the hand of my sister, and of course, a dowry according to her rank."

"It speaks well of you to remember the words of those who came before you, Your Grace. Jonnel will be pleased to be wed. I shall send a raven to Winterfell and summon him and see the matter done before the Gods. You do not seek to have her bring the whole litany of her God's servants with her, for I know you for a pious man, Your Grace ?" Stark asked, with the same blank face as always, but with a hint of defiance in his eyes, shivering slightly beneath his furs.

I was quick to assure him: "I worship the Seven-in-One, my lord, but I do not deny your Gods. My sister is not as pious as myself, and it is your castle, and your Gods. A sept between the walls of Wintertown would not go amiss, to bring succor to whatever Faithful might travel there, and is a matter that would please me greatly. But a sept needs only a septon, not a Most Devout and all his companions."

And thus the matter was dealt with, swiftly and plainly. Cregan Stark downed his mead, and with parting words, announced me that he shall remain in King's Landing untill after the coronation and wedding, and provide me with counsel on Dorne. He promised me Manderly ships and two thousand mountain men. And then he left, though a chill remained in the chambers, one that the fire would not banish, and only a new sunrise would see it gone. It brought one's mind to the heart of winter.

I could not call him a confidant, nor even a friend. He was himself, and it bode well that he was pleasantly inclined towards me.

The Red Keep

Godswood

Daena was water-dancing around with her ladies when I went to tell her the news. The mattter was not one I was eager to perform. My relationship with her was fraught, on account of different interests, and the manner of our dealings ackward, on account of her derision of holy things.

"Daena, if you would dismiss your ladies, I have serious matters to speak with you" I said to her. She was not inclined to listen to me, and protested quite vigurously. Her ladies where more judicious, so they left. Only me, her and poor Aemon remained.

"There's no need to keep waterdancing. The Sealord shall find another wife."

The abruptness of my manner raised new protest in her, and she loudly lamented:" You mean to keep me a maiden, dear brother ? I am not Rhaena, to become a septa, to satisfy your lust for the Seven's favor." She would have continued so, had I not interrupted her again.

"You'll marry Lord Stark's heir and be Lady of Winterfell, and if it pleases you, you might leave your septas behind. You shall wed once he comes down South, and before I go to Dorne."

Not even such pleased her. Mayhaps she worried that Jonnel Stark was a man in the same manner as his father. I had not the mood to assure her, so I left Aemon to assure her otherwise. The poor man looked at me as I had finally decided to punish him for Daeron's death.

I fled the Godswood swiftly. Perhaps the manner of my conversation with my sister made me look like a boor, but I had no ease of manner in talking with her. She found pleasure in deriding holy things, and in mocking me, and she was all together to lively and flightly to deal with. She frustrated me, and I did my best to ignore her (though that often led her to start talking in innuendos, to discomfort me further). I might be sad at our future parting, but certainly not soon.

We were not friends, and certainly not confidants. And I knew not if she thought that I had done her a service. Mayhaps once day should be satisfied, but I resolved to pray for Jonnel Stark, and that a great deal.

The Kingswood

Olyver Baratheon was a man built in the usual manner of his ancestors. A great man, of body, but not necessarily a great mind. At least this one knew his letters, unlike a certain other. The man delighted in war, in the hunt, and in the drink, and other pleasures, less palatable. He boasted of his prowesss in all, save for whoring, for he had the presence of mind to know that such would not put him in good favor with myself.

He was young enough, though older than myself, and that gave him a certain assureness in his conversation with me. He presumed to teach me of war, of battle and gave me a flurry of advice in dealing with Dorne. He played himself thus, because I painted my own plans as born of his own advice.

"You speak well, my lord Baratheon. I urge you to find no offense if I ask for Lord Dondarrion's hospitality when I bring fire and blood to Dorne. I cannot conduct a war from King's Landing. Though there might be another way, but I am loath to propose you such."

Lord Baratheon was quick to assure me otherwise: " Speak your mind, Your Grace. I would be most pleased to be of help to you."

"It would please me well to have some quarters of my own in the Stormlands. Perhaps a castle, that I might give my young cousin someday something to call his own. And while his hand is settled upon, I have no doubt that Daeron has a fine impression of your house that he might desire to tie his blood to yours. You need not worry that I might take lands from your lords, to give to him. Such would be repaid in gold. And I always believed that the Red Mountains would look better if both sides were in your kingdom. And younger sons might prove themselves brave and worthy of reward in the war to come."

" A most judicious plan, Your Grace" said Baratheon, and made to say more. But a boar came into view, so he readied his spear and galloped his horse towards his quarry. I was briefly worried that he might end up in the manner of his kinsman Bobby, but I looked around and saw no Lannister squire carrying wine. So I eased my mind.

Lord Baratheon certainly thought me friend, and it was useful for myself to think the same. He was not a man to make confidences to, but nevertheless a man who would be assured of my great friendship towards him, unless I dealt him an obvious insult.

I sighed and whispered: " I need to make other confidants that are not priests.".

Ser Olyvar Ferren cleared his throat.

"Do excuse me, my good ser Athos! I have momentarily forgot about you. You are a fine confidant."

Feren growled and murmured behind me: " Your Grace seems to forget quite often, especially my name."