Chapter 13
Tyrion was rather shocked at the king’s treatment of his former friend.
“He’s requiring both girls to stay here and his youngest to be fostered elsewhere?” Tyrion said in rather stark disbelief. “Did our sweet sister listen to my advice after all?”
Jaime snorted.
“Hardly. It seems we had an unexpected ally in this.”
Tyrion quirked a blond eyebrow, waiting for more.
Jaime shrugged. “The details bore me, but it seems that Renly openly supported the idea of Sansa and Arya staying in the city. Even Varys thought it wise.”
“He still wants to use Sansa as a way to open Robert’s door to Margaery. You and Cersei do understand that, right?” Tyrion wasn’t sure with his brother, who barely paid attention to court intrigues, or his sister, who only possessed a modicum of cunning.
Jaime just gave another shrug. “Cersei says she has everything well in hand. It is amusing that the only one who tried to defend Lord Stark ended up being the greatest champion for taking his children as hostages. Apparently, he made it sound like some sort of fostering that the two girls would appreciate. As if it was some sort of favor. In truth, it might have been. Can you imagine how boring it must be to live in a place like Winterfell? Sansa and Arya ought to be thanking us for keeping them away from that frozen tedium. When the girls, especially Sansa, said she enjoyed her time here and relished accompanying Myrcella, that sealed it. The great oaf would have most like let them return to Winterfell if they had indicated otherwise and just insisted on Rickon when he turned five. Now the Starks have been muzzled and all is well.”
Tyrion detected a note of disappointment.
“Yet you are displeased? Do you think Cersei erred?”
Jaime looked surprised. “No, it is that she hasn’t erred. I was looking forward to crossing blades with the Starks, but now it seems that it won’t be happening.”
Seven hells, Jaime.
His brother had always been eager to prove himself. He had quite enjoyed Balon’s little rebellion and despaired at ever being able to fight in a proper war and show off his talents in more than just a tourney. Tyrion wanted Jaime to be happy but not at the cost of so many thousands dead and an uncertain future.
“I daresay Sansa appreciates still having her father alive and not dead by your blade. I think she’s suffered enough for one lifetime.”
Jaime waved away the thought and Tyrion wondered if he should attempt to visit Sansa. Would she be distraught over her father leaving? Perhaps Arya was not knowledgeable enough to understand the drastic change in their situation, but Sansa was far too clever to not understand the undercurrents. Would she despise him along with the rest of his kin? He hoped not, but disappointment was something he had his fill of, and so hesitated to call upon her.
Tyrion wondered if any lord had ever made such a ruin of his position as Eddard Stark.
That isn’t strictly fair. We did have a parade of Hands under the Mad King who lost more.
Still, to throw away so much power over the whelps of the man who had slain his father and brother was some sort of queer madness. He had come to King’s Landing as the friend of the king and the second most powerful man in the realm, only to leave with multiple children seen as hostages and the king’s ire. And the Targaryen girl was still to be killed, regardless.
He’d never understand the Starks, but he supposed his own family also might seem incomprehensible to an outsider. Tyrion wondered what sort of splash the Tyrells were making. Word had reached the city that thirty knights, two hundred men-at-arms, and a similar number of grooms, stable hands, servants, maids, and other smallfolk would be arriving soon. Half a thousand people was quite excessive, but the Tyrells had pointed to the untimely death of the prince. The flower of Highgarden herself was coming, and would have quite the entourage.
The Tyrells are not like the Starks. Cersei and Jaime may be pleased for the moment, but I fear our family remains in a precarious position.
***
Robert felt uncertain before his meeting with Sansa. He detested that. A king was to be strong and decisive. A wise king listened to counsel, but in the end he must act. When he learned that his oldest friend was conspiring to slander the Lannisters on such flimsy grounds, it had hurt. Bad enough that the stubborn fool felt sympathy for dragonspawn, but entertaining the notion that Jon Arryn had been murdered and hiding it from him was close to treason. So the Grand Maester, the master of coin, his master of whisperers, and his bloody damn wife had said.
It was done now. Ned’s stubbornness and hatred toward the Lannisters while also caring for the Targaryens had destroyed their friendship. Their brotherhood. He would not go so far as his frigid wife wanted, but others had said something had to be done as penalty. Since he was already resigning as Hand, that could not be it.
Gods, if he would have just seen reason!
Robert had refused to take the fool’s children at first, but his younger brother had given him rare wise counsel. The girls liked King’s Landing. Renly had proposed a simple test – questioning the girls without their father present and see if that was true. If it was, then keep them there. The realm would know they were hostages, even if it went unsaid, but they would grow closer to his own children. The wound of the prior generation would be mended by friendships between Myrcella, Sansa, and Arya. Tommen would also interact with them as a younger sibling at times, and though the boy was utterly useless in the yard, both Sansa and Arya had said they found him agreeable enough.
The only thing left was to decide on who the damn Hand would be. None of the options appealed to him in the slightest. Cersei wanted Jaime of all people. Pycelle claimed Tywin Lannister had the experience and would serve the realm faithfully. Renly suggested himself. If Stannis were here he would do so likewise. It would be neither of his brothers, he was certain of that. When pushed, Renly had suggested Ser Barristan Selmy. That had happened a few times, where the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had acted as the Hand, but it tended not to go well. And Barristan had also opposed doing what was necessary about the looming Targaryen threat.
He needed someone who didn’t have a stick up their arse, but would also take ruling the realm seriously. The person would also have to be someone he could trust. No one had yet come to mind, but after his attendance at another meeting of the small council, Robert was resolved to name someone soon.
“Lady Sansa of House Stark,” Ser Barristan announced.
“See her in,” Robert called back, and Sansa arrived with her regular grace and a soft smile on her face.
“Sansa, I hope your new rooms are to your liking?”
“They are, Your Grace, and it is pleasant to be so near your family. I’ve been sharing some old Essosi tales with Tommen, he’s quite fond of a few.”
Robert sat back, more at ease. He had made the right choice. And yet, doubt still gnawed at him.
“Sansa, I know you must miss your father. What… well, what I mean to say is, did you and your father speak about why he was being sent away? And why you had to stay?”
“Yes, I do miss him. As to what he has said, I… Your pardon, Your Grace, but must I?”
Robert frowned. “I will bear you no ill will for repeating someone else’s words. But I must know.”
“Father explained that you quarreled. That you were acting without honor and that he could not remain as your Hand. That keeping us here and demanding Rickon be fostered was your way of punishing him for objecting to your actions.” Sansa looked down, her eyes shining slightly with unshed tears. “I’m being strong for Arya, who is very confused. She misses several of the guards that she knew well. I know some people won’t always get along. Jeyne and Arya sometimes quarrel. I just hope you and Father can be friends again. He used to tell us stories about how you saved the realm.”
Robert’s face twisted. He didn’t like Ned speaking ill of him, but he did like the fact that Ned used to tell his children stories about what he had done in the war.
Gods be good, if only I did not care for him so.
It made him want to drink, but he didn’t like being drunk around Sansa. It felt wrong.
“I’ll not say all my actions were honorable. Sometimes as a king, you must do what is necessary.”
Sansa nodded.
“My father had little love for the city. I fear the heat clouded his temper at times. He has always been firm, but he was never harsh with us in Winterfell. Sometimes… sometimes here in King’s Landing… well, he was ill-tempered. His words were on occasion absent the kindness we were accustomed to. It frightened Arya at times, but I understood. He was under great pressure and the heat; it truly robbed him of his senses at times.”
Robert found himself nodding. Yes, that made sense to him. Ned had grown accustomed to the cold of Winterfell and the heat had even made him speak poorly to the daughters he so clearly doted upon. Why should he think that Ned would spare the man he was at odds with a harsh word or two?
“I had not realized it affected him so. Is it bothering you as well?”
“’Tis good of you to ask, but I have my mother’s blood in me as well. I find the heat quite tolerable.”
“Do you want for anything within the Red Keep? I mean to put you and your sister fully at ease.”
He could do that much at least.
Sansa looked down. “Well, I hesitate to ask, ‘tis a silly thing.”
“Go on, tell me!”
“I find all the pretty jewels your wife adorns herself with so beautiful. I sometimes wonder what I might look like if I had my own. I have a few pieces, but Mother said that it could wait until I was older and that our realm was nowhere near as prosperous as the south. Father left a small bit of coin with Jory, but not enough for me to squander on such things. Would it be possible to borrow some of the jewelry, not the queen’s own of course, but others that might not be in use?”
Robert laughed. “Sansa, I am standing in for your father and you are under my care. You will not want for anything. You’ll not borrow jewels. I’ll give you coin to buy your own.”
It lifted his spirits to see Sansa’s grateful surprise so openly on her face. She was normally quite poised and composed, and some cheer was good.
“That aside, I promised your father before we argued that I would help find someone for you to wed. Tell me, what would you want? Somewhere near Winterfell? Down here in King’s Landing, or elsewhere in my realm?”
Her smile ran from her face and she looked down.
“Your Grace, it would not be fair to any future lord husband of mine to arrange a betrothal or marriage so soon. I have been in the presence of the sun, a prince worthy of song, and other men cannot compare. My mother used to say that time was a great healer. I know finding a match for me will be difficult, but I beg of you, do not seek someone out now. Let some years pass first.”
Joffrey was… not always so princely. To hear how much of an impression he had made on his betrothed, well, it may be that his feelings towards his eldest had been premature.
“I can heed your wishes. I had thought you would be eager to ensure your future.”
“In time, Your Grace. Meanwhile, I would adore seeing who will be matched with Myrcella. She has some years yet, but I can tell she will have her mother’s great beauty already.” She leaned in. “Your Grace, this may be presumptuous, and I know that affairs of marriage are not like the songs. Marriage strengthens the land. But… I could find out what your dutiful daughter might truly desire and perhaps play some part in arranging a future she will enjoy.”
Robert smiled broadly. The girl before him may not look like Lyanna, but she acted like her. That confidence and open, welcoming heart. She was apt in her assessment. According to Jon, a royal marriage had to be carefully considered and help unify the realm. But there could be many strong options, so why not choose one that would make his daughter happy? Gods knew he wasn’t close with her, but if he could do something fatherly and right after his failures with Joffrey and Tommen, he should do so.
“When the time comes, I will be sure to discuss it with you. You are a sweet child, but I will need to return to my duties soon. I must find a new Hand.”
“I wish you good fortune in your search, Your Grace.”
Robert paused. He wasn’t sure why, but he had almost thought she might offer a suggestion as to who should be Hand. It would be something Cersei would have tried or a hundred other flatterers. Not once had she even suggested bringing her father back or returning to Winterfell. She did not press him, unlike everyone else.
“Thank you, Sansa. I enjoy our meetings, brief as they are. Should we continue them?”
She hesitated. “I would like that, Your Grace. Perhaps… perhaps you could tell me more about my father when he was young? He seldom tells tales from back then. Oh, but you are quarreling with him. I fear that is a cruel request. Please, we can discuss something else if you prefer.”
Robert shook his head.
“Ah, think nothing of it. I could tell you quite the tale about your father! You know he wasn’t always such a stone-faced killjoy… ah no, I shan’t lie to his daughter. He was always like that, but that didn’t mean he was boring, why he…”
***
Illyrio Mopatis was once again impressed with how well Varys could disguise himself. Today the eunuch had transformed into a stout, balding merchant from Myr, complete with a dyed beard streaked with gray, heavy robes of wool, and a thick chain of medallions resting on his chest. The scent of cheap perfume and lamp oil clung to him, masking his usual fragrance of lavender and powder. With so much still uncertain since their last meeting, Illyrio had delayed his departure back to Pentos.
“Ah, there he is. You have worked your magic yet again, my friend.”
Varys shook his head slightly.
“Not my doing, in truth. Fortune favors us still, despite everything. Yet still I counsel for haste. The board is still set, but the Tyrells could still upend it if it is not managed carefully. Better to have the Dothraki here before events spiral out of my control.”
“Why do you doubt yourself? You were certain the wolf would uncover the truth of the children. And now he is gone, and his daughters can be slain at our leisure when we are ready to have the Seven Kingdoms weaken themselves with war.”
“It may not be so simple,” Varys said, his voice weary. “Stark was a puzzling creature, but he seems to have learned some subtlety. The guards he left behind are acting strangely. That he misled everyone about how he was returning home was quite intriguing, and sellswords hired by someone received coin for nothing.”
Illyrio stroked his beard. “Why would the queen move after Stark was already defeated?”
“It wasn’t the queen, or she would have proven a more cunning figure than I think is credible. No, another hand moves. Or perhaps just a finger.”
“Littlefinger?”
Varys shrugged at his question. “I suspect, but even my little birds cannot be everywhere. I know Baelish is aware of them as well. The man is too crafty by half, but simply because I have not unearthed who hired those sellswords does not mean it was Littlefinger. And let me remind you again, Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Tully are both out of my reach now. All efforts to learn more of what occurs on Dragonstone have failed, and my agents are only now attempting to find purchase within the Eyrie. I am in the dark, and no candle comes to hand.”
As much as the eunuch wished for haste, the khal would not stir until his son was born.
It needs to be a son.
“I listened, and you will have your little birds and more gold besides. Keep the flower from the stag a little while longer. If the timing is right, it might even be for the best. If you manage things perfectly, the Lannisters will be set aside, the old lion at the Rock will be full of wrath, and the wolf’s daughters will be slain while in the care of the king. The realm will be riven at the exact moment it most needs to be united against the coming of the Dothraki. Just a little longer.”
Varys nodded hesitantly.
“What I can do, I will.”
Years of planning had almost been upended, but now the course had been righted. Whether by good fortune or through manipulation, it mattered not. They were close now. So very close.
***
Jory Cassel had been captain of the guard at Winterfell for several years. He had been trusted by his liege lord, and serving him had been his greatest honor. He had always been skilled with a blade, and that skill, combined with his family ties to Ser Rodrik, had made him the natural choice to lead the Stark household guard. He had helped his uncle train the Stark boys in the yard and out in the forests near Winterfell, ensuring their education was complete in all things physical.
As well as Jon and Theon. I hope they are not still at odds.
It was not the first time he had gone south, but it may well be his last. To see Lord Stark and all the North shamed by the king was a heavy weight. Eddard Stark was the most honorable lord in all the Seven Kingdoms and now his own daughters and his youngest son were to be held as hostage to his good behavior? The very idea was absurd.
But then, it was a time for absurdities. Bran crippled by a fall. The prince slain. Sansa savaged. It was like some fell curse had come with the king’s arrival. It had been surprising to Jory that he was to remain behind and not accompany his lord back home. Given what had happened to Sansa, he was mollified by the reason, but it still felt odd to go from commanding fifty men to just five. Odder still were Lord Stark’s words.
“Jory, while you are in the city, you will obey my daughter Sansa as you would me.”
“My lord?”
Sansa had a brilliant mind, but she was still a child.
“I do not understand.”
“Whatever she asks, Jory. And pick your best outside of Tomard to remain here with you.”
Then the orders from Sansa had come. Jory was given very specific tasks to do. He had thought looking for brothels the prior Hand might have visited was out of the ordinary, but now? Jory half thought this was some child’s lark, but Sansa’s demands were so specific and seriously given, down to the very hour when he should complete a task.
Once it had been to walk to the Lion Gate. Another time it was to visit Eel Alley. Another time still, to discuss costs of transport with ship captains near the docks. When he had asked Sansa to explain the purpose of this, she had simply said that she was looking to collect information.
It was more than passing strange, and growing stranger by the day. He had also learned his other guards had at times been given orders as well. Alyn had been tasked to go to the Street of Silver and lose coin that Sansa had provided gambling. He had been further instructed to accept drinks and friendship from others if they requested information about the Starks. That sort of skulk work was not something Jory or Lord Stark would normally approve of, but when he had asked Sansa about it, she had simply smiled and explained that it was an experiment.
Beyond carrying out Sansa’s varied tasks, they were responsible for ensuring the girls’ safety. Sansa went into the city proper and Jory escorted her as she and Jeyne spoke with the merchants. Jory had been given a small chest full of silver to cover the pay of the guards and their needs for the next year, but it seemed his lord had also provided Sansa with her own coin for such things.
Perhaps it is meant to lighten Sansa’s heart after everything.
“This is a lovely piece. Your work is so intricate. I am looking for some things for myself, but in truth, I was hoping to find some pieces for the daughters of some of my leal servants. This is much too fine for them.”
“Forgive me, my lady, I misunderstood. You are correct. I have other pieces here that are more suitable for those of a lower station.”
Jory was confused, but held his tongue. Sansa had always been the strangest of the Stark children, and his job was to protect her, not understand her.
***
Margaery Tyrell laughed as Megga Tyrell finished her story. Her younger cousin had a penchant for mischief indeed! The journey had been quicker than what any of them were routinely used to, but it had been pleasant. Alla, Megga, and Elinor were excited to see King’s Landing.
“Do you think the princess will like us?” Alla asked. “I’ve heard it said that she’s kind, but that she doesn’t have many companions and spends most of her time with her mother in the royal apartments.”
Margaery patted her hand. “I’m told Myrcella is dutiful, beautiful, and quite kind. Renly wrote that she only spends time with some Lannisport girl and Sansa Stark, so she’ll welcome more company.”
“’Tis odd that the queen allows Sansa to be around her daughter. Isn’t she…” Elinor’s voice dropped to a whisper, “despoiled?”
Margaery tutted in imitation of her grandmother. “None of that now. It isn’t as if being accosted by some monstrous fellow is catching! Poor Sansa was going to marry the prince. No doubt she spent time with the royal family and befriended Myrcella. You must give the Lannisters no excuse to find your behavior wanting.”
The three nodded. Margaery knew they would not shame her. Elinor knew what Margaery was truly here for, but neither Alla nor Megga did. She wondered if she would manage to catch the king’s eye. Her father had spoken about how wonderful it would be for her to be queen and she did greatly desire it. To be in the center of power and be able to help steer the realm like her grandmother steered the politics of the Reach was exciting.
A woman’s duty is not always pleasant, but I’ve been told the act itself is not overlong.
The real challenge would be to entice the king enough to make him want her, but not enough that he tried to make use of her in a carnal way before setting aside his current wife. The balance required would be delicate, and like to prove the great challenge of her life.
As their wheelhouse came to a stop the door opened and Olenna, her grandmother, and the ‘Queen of Thorns’ curtly told the other girls. “Out.”
None of her cousins were foolish so they moved swiftly.
Olenna was helped into the wheelhouse and then one of her massive guards shut the door.
“We’ll be in King’s Landing soon. I can already imagine the stench. We must speak; things have changed.”
“Say on, Grandmother.”
“Lord Stark has offended the king. Some say he resigned his position, others say he was stripped of it. Either way, his two daughters are now hostage upon his good behavior.”
“But why?” Margaery asked.
“He accused the queen of murdering the old Hand.”
Margaery’s hand rose to her chest.
“Is it true?”
She sniffed. “How should I know? Jon Arryn championed putting Cersei beside Robert. Much can change in fifteen years, but Arryn was always a cautious man. The Starks mislike the Lannisters, but I won’t know more until we reach the city. Lord Renly’s report, delivered verbally by one of his trusted knights, was woefully incomplete. He’s a pretty fool, and I mislike everything about this.”
Margaery well knew her grandmother’s thoughts on trying to oust Cersei Lannister. She had not been able to sway her son, Margaery’s father.
“The ‘honorable’ Lord Stark was amenable to having his daughter aid you in this poetry nonsense. I told my oaf of a son that Robert Baratheon is not a man to be wooed in such a manner. Just show your ripening bosom would be more useful. But now I wonder if the girl will be as willing. Renly says she has some wit about her, but what would a fool know of that? Tread carefully, I suspect the queen may already have the no doubt frightened girl her under her thumb.”
“I will. I am sure we will become fast friends, regardless. I had a thought about her. She’s been ravaged by brutes and will have very little fortune in finding someone to wed her. We all know my brother Loras is a sword-swallower. What if we were to match them? It would bring the Starks to our side and be seen as a very generous gesture to them.”
Her grandmother gave her a disappointed look.
“And make us a laughing stock? If you are successful, we will have no need of the Starks. If you are not, then you will not be queen and we will still have no need of the Starks. They rarely stir themselves and with Eddard returned to Winterfell they are unimportant. Keep your wits about you. If Cersei is replaced, what do you think the Old Lion will do? I can think of much, and none of it good, but oath or no, the Kingslayer will not stand meekly by. He will either do something stupid or he will return to Casterly Rock without his white cloak. Our Loras as a member of the Kingsguard resolves everything neatly.”
Margaery frowned. She had thought it a grand idea. It would have also been a way to kindle a friendship under the guise that they would one day be sisters by marriage. Her grandmother was wise and she would heed her lessons. Most of them at least.