NOTE - I'm aware someone is plagiarizing my work on Web Novels and Patreon. Rimanovi has done this with other author's works as well, and unfortunately little probably can be done. Feel free to report any account of his you see on whatever platform he posts my work on.
Chapter 21
Robert was furious. Both by Lancel’s stupidity and also by the idea that he was too drunk to kill a fucking boar. Sansa had asked to see a proper end to the hunt, one where she could see him in perfect form, and not anything short of ideal circumstances.
‘Of course you’ll be able to strike it down, regardless,’ she had said sweetly, ‘but I’d rather you do it completely properly. ‘Tis my first boar hunt that I have been on. What is one more day when we have been out here so long already?’
She worries. That is plain, but she speaks in a way that makes it palatable. Hah, no wonder she managed to get that pinchpenny to improve that library of theirs in Winterfell.
Renly was pacing.
“Giving you fortified wine prior to a dangerous hunt is more than just a squire’s jape! This was an attempt on your life, brother.”
Robert just gave Renly a look.
“Then he could have just used real poison.”
“And then be executed as a traitor? This was made to look like an accident. The Lannisters don’t know you’ve rejected Margaery, they think they need to kill you.”
Robert laughed. “First Ned, and now you? Sometimes the simplest explanation is best. Lancel doesn’t have the balls to try to poison me. I think he might have even wet himself when I moved toward him. Cringing like a woman. Gods be good, stop chasing shadows.”
“What will you do with him then?”
Robert scratched at his beard.
“I ought to have him whipped, but Sansa thinks mercy is for the best.”
“Sansa? Since when did you take counsel from girls not yet flowered?” Renly said with amusement in his voice. “She’s overly fond of the lions. She and the queen get along quite well, and she has a queer affection for the Imp. Not to mention she has a woman’s heart, really, brother, perhaps you should decide the matter once you are sober.”
Robert laughed. Not just a simple loud laugh, but a true belly laugh.
“You think she favors the Lannisters? That she might plead for mercy on their behalf. That she might be more loyal to them than me?”
Tears were in Robert’s eyes at Renly’s confusion.
“Yes, and I see no humor in it.”
Robert’s mirth would not subside. He hadn’t told all the details to Renly, just that they had discovered Lancel had given him strongwine instead of his usual drink.
“No humor? Aha, hahaha.” Robert wheezed. “Can’t trust her.” Robert was growing red-faced as he nearly doubled over laughing.
Renly stood there, a bemused expression on his face until Robert finally mastered himself.
“Ah, brother, you are such a fine judge of character. It was Sansa who discovered it. Seeing me in my cups more than I should be. She was the one who leveled the accusation and suggested the wine be tested with some oil or fat burning. Barristan assured me that was a way to test the strength of a wine, and the idiot lad confessed after she explained it to him.”
Robert chuckled again.
Renly’s face revealed his comprehension.
“As you say, brother. I will admit it. I was wrong. However, she is still more inclined toward soft measures than we would be. Than we should be. A knight must be able to trust his squire, and Lancel broke that trust. A message needs to be sent.”
Robert’s last bit of mirth left him.
“After his daughter was poisoned and nearly killed, we whip his nephew and remove him as my squire. Yes, that will bring stability to the realm. No, I’ve a mind to send him out of King’s Landing and back to the Westerlands, and see to it that his father punishes him for what he has done.”
His brother furrowed his brow and then smiled.
“Clever. Lancel will be shamed in front of his family. No doubt Tywin will ensure Kevan sees to Lancel being properly chastised, mayhaps even end up with worse than a whipping, but done privately so as to not embarrass the family. The Lord of Casterly Rock also knows you chose not to add to their humiliations. It gives you leverage of a sort to have him stand down from conflict with the Tyrells.”
Robert thought so too. Sansa had suggested that the idea of her father punishing her for something she had done that was clearly in the wrong would be worse than punishment from some other lord or in this case a king. He didn’t think the Lannisters thought the way the Starks did, but the idea was good. And Sansa had been correct in pointing out that the queen was still recovering from her injuries, humiliation for her family would be unwise.
Cersei is already back to her waspish self, but I’d prefer not to erase the good will I garner by explaining the requirement I made of the Tyrell girl.
On the morrow he would kill a boar, then head back to King’s Landing. Time with Sansa had been good, and it was long past time that he grew to know his daughter as well. Myrcella was sweet, unlike her mother, and it would be good for her to be more like Sansa. Thoughts of his children made him worry about Tommen. The boy was too soft to be a king. That would need to change, but at the same time, he didn’t want to deal with Cersei’s tirades when he tried to toughen the lad up.
***
Tyrion needed more wine for this. One of Cersei’s little schemes involving Lancel had caused quite the trouble. Jaime was unbothered, as ever. He was simply lounging while the queen was pacing back and forth.
“Not only is Lancel sent back to Casterly Rock in disgrace, Tyrek is going as well! Robert bleated on about how the two squires were so close, and he’d not want them torn asunder. I swear to you, those are not his thoughts, his brother is still whispering in his ear, or that slut Margaery.”
“And the king simply suspects it was a poorly timed jape? He truly does not think Lancel meant to see him sent to his grave earlier?” Tyrion asked for confirmation, though he already suspected the answer. If the king had thought Lancel meant to kill him, his cousin would be dead.
Cersei scowled at him, marring her pretty face.
“He’d be short a head if that was the case. No, my husband believes Lancel wouldn’t dare, and so we are protected.”
Jaime snickered. “Our coz being a craven and flinching whenever Robert raised his voice has helped our cause. How amusing.”
“It isn’t funny! The king is replacing our kin as his squires. He’s already asked Ser Beric for his squire; he thinks it a fine jest to have a squire others call ‘Ned’ but I like it not.”
“While a setback, it seems we have avoided the worst possible outcomes,” Tyrion pointed out. “And you told us that Robert made it clear to his brother and Lady Margaery that she was to either become betrothed to someone or to leave King’s Landing due to the ‘vile but troubling’ rumors. Sweet sister, your position is secure. At this point, why even bother with the risk? My schemes are in motion, but they can easily be halted.”
Cersei shook her head emphatically.
“No, I tire of this endless worry. Fear of Robert discovering things he should not, fear of Robert replacing me. When he is dead, everything will be better. I can rule as the Queen Regent in Tommen’s name. Our enemies will no longer be allowed to circle around us like carrion feeders.”
Queen Regent? Gods help us all.
***
Arya had been happy to see her sister return from the seemingly endless hunt. She loved training with Syrio, but one could not do that all day. She had been very tempted to warg into Nymeria, but she had promised not to do any of that until Sansa returned. Upon Sansa’s return Arya had once again enjoyed the sensation and all the scents that came with riding her direwolf’s skin.
Unfortunately, Sansa had said it was time for her to do more lady-like things. Her sister said that it was important to make friends and that if she didn’t, it would make it more difficult for Sansa to convince the king and court to let them go home one day. If it seemed as if all wounds had been healed by time and they got along with everyone, it would be helpful. Arya wasn’t sure if Sansa was just saying that to convince her, or if her part was truly needed. Father had left her in charge, so she would obey.
Still better than Septa Mordane at least.
And so, she found herself in the room talking of nothings with Alla and Alysanne while Alyn served as her guard and escort. Alysanne was such a child, she always wanted to play games that Arya had already grown out of. But the endless talking about boys was even worse, so they flitted between different forms of tedium.
“Margaery says Edric Dayne will make a better squire for the king, but that Daynes are often knighted young, so he’ll just have to pick another soon enough,” Alla said.
That perked Arya’s attention.
“That family owns Dawn? There’s lots of stories about that sword,” Arya said with interest in her voice.
Alysanne tittered. “Your family would know better than most! Your father slew the last Sword of the Morning, didn’t he?”
Arya frowned. She had heard talk of it around Winterfell, but her father never spoke of it and refused to elaborate other than to say his friend, Howland Reed, had saved his life on that day.
“Father doesn’t like talking about the war, so I don’t know that story. But I’ve heard other stories. That it is a pale blade, the color of milk, and that it was forged from the falling star that destroyed Old Valyria.”
Alla shook her head. “No, it was that the earth vomited up poison smoke that destroyed the Valyrian empire. Caused by sorcery, but not a falling star. Stories of Dawn stretch back much further than the Doom.”
Arya flushed. She hadn’t paid that much attention to the histories. She knew all the old stories, but anything past a hundred years was all jumbled in her head and just ‘a really long time ago’ in her mind.
“Oh, well, some of the guards just repeat stories. I guess they were wrong.”
Alysanne giggled. “You talk with guards? Or do you mean knights? You’re the daughter of Lord Stark, so you must mean knights.”
Alla chided her companion. “The North doesn’t have knights, silly.”
“We do! Ser Rodrik Cassel is our master-at-arms,” Arya countered, glad to be able to correct them after she was corrected!
Alla did not show embarrassment or anger, she just nodded.
“Oh, well, my tutors tell me that there are few knights north of the Neck, he must be an exception. Is he handsome?”
Arya wrinkled her nose. “Ser Rodrik? He’s old. His hair has gone white.”
It was clear that Alla, like her cousins who weren’t there at present, was quite obsessed with getting married. Arya didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to be a lady; she didn’t want to take care of a holdfast or castle’s accounts. She knew her sums, and Sansa said she could keep a ledger better than most, but that was boring. She was going to be a warrior, like the women of House Mormont.
She practically sprinted to her lesson, even though she would be early. As usual Syrio was already there and he looked her up and down.
“You are walking different, yes? You carry another weapon.”
How had he known?
“A man has eyes.”
Can he read my thoughts?
The Braavosi smiled at her no doubt astonished expression.
“You reveal your thoughts with how you react. Syrio Forel is no Quartheen warlock, but you make it too simple. In the dance, you must never reveal your next move. Now, come, child, what is it that you carry.”
Arya pulled out the small knife she had hidden on her person. It was of similar design much like the one Sansa had. Edged on only one side to make it safer to conceal and draw quickly without undue fear of nicking oneself.
“Who has taught you this thing?” Syrio asked.
Arya hesitated. She was not supposed to tell anyone. But… this was Syrio!
“No, girl. A man has eyes, you were told not to share this, yes? Then you should not. I will show you how to use it. It is not of the dance, but the dance is flexible, no?”
Arya grinned, both from relief, and from being taught something new. Maybe she’d be the one to teach Sansa something for a change!
***
The queen wished to see me, no doubt curious as to what all went on during the hunt. Visha joined me, my silent and ever vigilant shadow. I had grown accustomed to giving her mental commands with ease. It wasn’t as if she could read my thoughts, but I could ‘push’ a direction or command through my will, and she could accomplish it. It wasn’t perfectly precise, but close enough.
The queen seemed to have recovered somewhat from her poisoning and the death of her eldest. Cersei had always looked beautiful, but her appearance had been marred with grief. Now her vibrant green eyes were clear of any tears, and matched her dress and the emeralds that adorned the necklace she wore.
“Sansa, so good of you to come, please sit.”
I curtsied and did so.
“I have a friend that will be joining us, sweetling. You are familiar with our master of coin?”
I nodded. As far as subtle powerplays were concerned, it was something, but I was surprised that Baelish would go through all that trouble to try to impress me. Lady Stokeworth was one thing, but arranging for the queen herself to be the reason for our surprise interaction was something else entirely. Since I had already listened in when he spoke with Cersei about this very interaction, however, I was far less impressed than I would have been had I been blindsided. I still wasn’t sure what Baelish’s deeper game with me was, but this meeting might shed some light.
“Lord Baelish has been quite kind, though I have been informed of his… other activities outside of being the master of coin. In truth, it made me uncomfortable learning of it.”
Cersei raised her golden eyebrows. “His brothels, you mean? That is only one of many activities related to commerce he is involved in. You shouldn’t be bothered by something so small.”
“As you say, Your Grace.” I bobbed my head in agreement.
“Lancel made some poor choices, but I wondered at your… courage in bringing the matter to the king’s attention.”
Cersei’s eyes had sharpened as she awaited my response.
“I hope he’ll be happier now that he is no longer the king’s squire. A king’s expectations are high, and when Lancel was not perfect in his duties, His Grace could be most harsh. Having just heard how Margaery’s grandfather had died in that sort of pursuit, I was keen on everyone being safe and astonished at what he had done. ‘Tis unlikely anything dire would have happened, but if something had, poor Lancel would have likely been viewed as a monster.”
Cersei’s lips thinned. “So it was for Lancel’s sake you accused him?”
“No, it was for the king’s, but it was to Lancel’s ultimate benefit that I did.”
Cersei looked away. “He said as much, but as we can clearly see, he is a fool. It would have been far kinder if you had approached my beloved, and foolish cousin, privately so he could amend his mistake without shaming himself and his kin.”
“Yes, Your Grace, that may well have been better.” I said while looking contrite.
She asked me what else happened on the hunt and I told her some of the more boring tidbits. How Robert was eager to share his knowledge of hunting and how he intended to bring Myrcella on one in the future. The queen had not liked that idea at all.
Ser Preston announced Lord Baelish and the master of coin entered the room. He bowed his head to the queen and then took my hand.
“Lovely to see you again after so long, Sansa.”
I did my best impression of a nervous smile. “Likewise, my lord.”
“I have a gift for you, and then we must speak plainly.”
He made a show of opening the satchel he brought with him and revealing a silver-wrought wide band style choker with sapphires along the edges.
“I’ve been told you like the look of silver, and these sapphires bring out your eyes. Here, allow me to see what it looks like on you.”
He placed the silver around my neck; it lay high upon my skin as opposed to sinking low like Cersei’s. Baelish lingered overlong behind me, and I was starting to really grow annoyed with him as he fiddled with the latch.
“Thank you, my lord, I will need to find a new dress to better match it.”
“Nonsense, Sansa, it looks perfect with what you are wearing already,” he replied.
Cersei nodded. “Listen to him, Sansa, he has a good eye.”
I gave her a polite smile and a nod.
“You said we must speak plainly on some matter?” I asked.
“I know you never wish to speak ill of anyone, Sansa,” the queen said directly, “but we believe my twisted little brother has poisoned you against Lord Baelish. I would have the truth of it.”
A rather direct approach.
“He said that I shouldn’t trust you, Lord Baelish. He seems quite kind and knowledgeable, and with so many others pressing on my time, I thought it wise to heed his experience,” I said apologetically.
“The Imp has little love for me, Sansa, and while I do not wish to speak of things of a tawdry nature with highborn ladies, I fear Tyrion’s baser deeds must be mentioned. He makes use of whores frequently and has them do perverse acts that I will not mention for your sake, just know that there isn’t a more lecherous man in King’s Landing.”
I let my eyes grow big. “But… why does he mislike you so? Aren’t you one of the providers of those perverse acts?”
Cersei almost laughed while Baelish just smiled.
“As to why? Well, I have won coin from him before. I’ve also taken pains to ensure the safety of the ladies in my employ. ‘Tis a one-sided grudge he bears me and I truly do not know the reason.”
“Lord Baelish speaks truly, Tyrion is my brother, but he is angry at the world for making him a dwarf. It is easy to do something and arouse his hatred. He drinks and makes awful japes, but it hides a darker hatred for the world. He is good at making people think he is harmless, due to his stature, but he is not.”
What a fucked up family. That’s your brother you are talking about.
“Oh? That sounds dreadful, could you give me an example, Your Grace?”
Cersei looked taken aback. She opened her mouth, but then closed it, her stunning visage sharpened even further.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said, affronted.
“I’m uncertain. Some people tell me one thing, others tell me something else. Tyrion has been naught but kind to me. I have spent time at Winterfell, on the road, and now within King’s Landing with him. In all the while, he has never been cruel. I do not think someone could hide their true nature so easily.”
The queen looked ready to argue but Baelish jumped in. “You have been sheltered all your life in Winterfell, Sansa. But the queen has known her brother for more than these last few months. Surely you can see the sense in listening to her counsel.”
I wanted to thread the needle carefully here.
“That’s true…”
The problem here was that I did want them to think I had some naivety, but I also didn’t want to stop my discussions with Tyrion, nor did I want them to think I was completely moronic. And I wanted to learn more about whatever it was that Baelish had planned for me.
“I don’t know, but I will consider your words. I don’t bear you any ill will, Lord Baelish. I just am unsure of myself and thought it best to be cautious and heed the advice of friends.”
“Very wise, and well beyond your years,” Baelish complimented. “I’d wager most other noble girls would not be so thoughtful. I only wish for us to be friends, but if you still have some doubts, despite the queen’s words, write to your mother. Ask her about our friendship. Save for my lone, rather painful at that, mistake, I believe she will tell you that I have been true.”
I smiled broadly. “That is a good idea, Lord Baelish. And that you advise me to seek my mother’s thoughts on that does make me trust you more. Thank you, I shall write to her this very eve.”
I would decide later how I wanted to instruct my mother to advise me via letter. I knew my mail was almost certainly being read before I laid eyes on it. Which allowed me to better control any narrative I wished to paint with the letters from home.
Cersei finally got around to the point.
“Sansa, we are all greatly concerned for your future. Petyr believes he can find you a match in the Vale and soon. All you need to do is tell Robert how worried you are about your cousin Robert, and that you would love to visit him in the Eyrie to comfort him and his mother, your Aunt Lysa. While you are there, Lord Baelish can present you to several houses, noble and ancient ones like the Corbray and Hunter.”
I went into my normal song and dance about how I loved Joffrey so much, and how even the thought of another marriage so soon felt a betrayal of him.
“You are sweet, Sansa,” Cersei said in what was no doubt meant to be a sweet tone, but just came off condescendingly, “but my… my Joffrey would have wanted to see you happy,” she obviously lied. Joffrey could not have possibly cared about anyone’s future happiness other than his own. “While certain friends are eager to help, now is the time to secure your future. If you wait, this opportunity may pass you by.”
The only reason she was even coming to me was that she wouldn’t be able to convince Robert on her own. They knew that the king had a soft spot for me, and they wanted to add my desire to the table. Only, I wasn’t sure the king would play along even if I did. The king didn’t want me to leave from King’s Landing, that much was obvious. I could probably begin to irritate him enough, but that was risky, and having the CEO of the Seven Kingdoms view you positively was always nice to have in my back pocket.
“I worry that by pleading with the king for such a favor, when I know what I am, a political hostage for my father’s good behavior, I could rouse his ire. However, I believe this is another example of where I should consult my parents. I will include this request in the letter I send.”
Cersei approached and ran her fingers through my hair.
“Time may be of the essence. Ravens do not always find their way. Best to ask him now, when he is refreshed and well-pleased with his hunt.”
There’s an urgency? But why?
I chewed on my lip, a habit I was trying to do when I pretended to be nervous or anxious about something.
“I… I can talk to the king, but I will need to see to his mood. I’ve learned not to approach him sometimes when he is in his cups. And I know not yet what I will say or even if I should, but I always try to heed wise counsel from the friends I have here.”
Oh, I would be talking to Robert all right. But I’ve had just enough of all of this ridiculousness. I wanted answers, and I wanted things out in the open.
***
Robert looked at Sansa bemused.
“You want to meet with who all, now?”
The poised young Stark smiled graciously.
“Your wife, Lord Tyrion, and Lord Baelish. Oh, perhaps Ser Jaime as well. I am caught betwixt multiple people and I don’t know who to believe.”
Robert rubbed at his head for a second, making sure he understood correctly.
“The Imp told you to avoid Littlefinger. Littlefinger and my wife told you that the Imp is a hateful little whoremonger not to be trusted, and then they both asked you to ask me to go to the Vale so you can visit your cousin and find a husband?”
“Precisely, Your Grace. And the queen seemed to think it was crucial to do so quickly, lest I miss my chance. I tried to tell her that I felt awkward asking you this, because I know I am a hostage to my father’s behavior. Moreover, I still do not wish to be wed or even betrothed! It is too soon, but she dismissed my complaints and said ‘tis what Joffrey would want. I… I really don’t know, but I hate disappointing anyone, but I am thrown in a situation where many people wishing to befriend me seem to be opposed to one another. I know not what grudge lies between Lord Tyrion and Lord Baelish, but I would greatly love it if they could work out their differences.”
Oh sweet child, I don’t know either. But men don’t give up their grievances easily. I know that, well enough.
He still felt guilty about using Sansa and Arya as hostages, only partially mollified by the letter they had just sent to Winterfell regarding no longer requiring Rickon to be sent south on his fifth name day. But he couldn’t get himself to regret his choice either. Being around Sansa was good for him, she was Lyanna’s legacy of sorts, even if she was truly born to her or him.
“Sansa, what do you think of Petyr, he’s not the kind of man I’d want my daughter to be around, so I’m inclined to believe the Imp.” Then he chuckled. “Then again, neither is Tyrion. The man somehow can keep up with me in drinking!”
Sansa lowered her voice. “In truth? I know different regions have different mannerisms, but he is too free with his touches. It makes me uncomfortable, though I am sure he means nothing ill by it.”
Robert stilled. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. Maybe he’d have a little chat with Littlefinger after all.
“Oh, see, I know that look, Your Grace. I shouldn’t have said anything, he’s never touched me anywhere private, it is just… I do not know how to say. But my purpose here is to try to mend the fences between an important councilor and your good-brother. Can you arrange such a discussion between you and the others and ensure they make peace? Including me.”
The request was an odd one. As king he’d never had that before. In truth, anyone suggesting such a thing that wasn’t in Sansa’s position as a type of ward to him, would make little sense. That Cersei was involved in a family squabble with her funny little brother was odd enough, but then throw Littlefinger in the mix, and it was more than a little strange.
Could it be that Baelish has designs on Sansa? That his minor house that consists of a tiny smattering of smallfolk on a few stony acres in the Fingers would be worthy of a Stark daughter was a stretch.
Sansa’s stock as a potential match had fallen, but it had not fallen that far. Though as a master of coin, it was perhaps more tolerable. And if Cat did still hold a fondness for her childhood friend it may even be palatable to the Starks. Though that friendship hadn’t kept Baelish from counseling him to take Ned’s daughters hostage.
More importantly marrying her to the Vale went contrary to Robert’s own plans. Sansa was a clever girl, still unwise to all the ways of the world, but the way she immediately comprehended what Robert told her of hunting lore or even warcraft, showed him the extreme sharpness of her mind. As a queen, she would help Tommen rule.
“Yes, it would be a fine lark to put them all in a room and have them stop whispering to you about each other! You’re still a maid and each one is telling you different things must be confusing. Some are even trying to get you to influence me. Best we lay it all out in the open,” he said with a grim chuckle. It might even be amusing to see how they spoke about one another while facing one another.