Chapter 29
CREGAN STARK
Cregan sat in the Hand's solar, as he had many a times before when Jon Arryn had been hand. The old man had often called him into his solar to simply have company or a helping hand—a competent and well-read helping hand.
And Cregan was the King's charge, and given Robert Baratheon's nature, the responsibility of his upbringing lay with the older man, and so many a times the man would teach him the ways of ruling and governing, testing him on his numbers and histories.
And while such questions may have troubled a lesser man, Cregan was not one of those men. His challenges lay in the ways of blade and physical activity, but when it came to learning numbers, and histories, and applying suck knowledge he thought himself to be better than many.
But never before he had sat in the solar with such ease, for while he knew Jon Arryn to be a good man, he could never really trust the man. Not after he had rubbished his accusations against Baelish so quickly.
Jon Arryn was an old and prideful man, competent in the matters of statecraft and politics, but blinded to the treachery around him for some reason. And while he was angry about the man's actions, he could see the reason in them.
For who would choose to trust the words of a twelve year old boy over the word of a man such as Petyr Baelish.
"Six million gold dragons," his father repeated as he shook his head, and that number made him much nervous as well.
The office had not changed much, since the times of Jon Arryn. Only the stacks of papers and books splattered across the room had grown, and he could see that his father was busy with work.
"And the man speaks of borrowing more as if the castle walls are built of Gold itself," and it was that attitude which made Petyr Baelish so difficult to counter. That and how the man had stacked the court with his lickspittles, in all positions of concern such that any investigation against him would turn up fruitless.
For the one investigating him would be a man he had hired himself.
"I cannot even fathom how Jon could let something like this happen," his father lamented, and Cregan could go into detail on how this had happened, but he doubted it would soothe him much.
"Well, the matter is it has happened, and now we must expose him for his crimes. All of them," he suggested as his Eddard Stark's fist balled up.
"I wanted to cut his head off the second I saw his face, and only your words kept me from taking out my blade," he said and Cregan nodded.
"Robert is here now, let me tell him of his treason and he will bash his head him..."
"NO!" Cregan cut in quickly, dissuading the man of the notion quickly, though he was not much against it himself.
"The Red Keep is filled with paid ears and tongues," he clarified.
"The second you utter those words to the King, even in private, Petyr Baelish would be warned of it all and would leave Kingslanding, only to never be found again," he clarified, as his father ground his teeth.
"Then how can one know who has paid off whom?" he asked, and while men like Baelish and Varys could distinguish between their own associates, he could not do so confidently.
He knew of the allegiance of many of them, but he knew that there were many he knew nothing about.
"One cannot tell, a good rule of thumb is to suspect that every servant and guard is paid off by someone else. The only people you can truly trust in this castle are the men you have brought with yourself, and even them for but a few months," because after that, their resolved would begin to shatter under the weight of beautiful women, sweet honeyed wines, and purses filled with gold.
"Seven Hells," his father cursed as Cregan shrugged.
"You must speak to the King, but you must do so in private, where you are certain that no one can hear you," Cregan clarified, advising his father over the matter.
He had himself spent a week thinking up the most appropriate way to deal with Petyr Baelish, and had come up with this idea.
"And you must insist that you use your House guards to arrest the man and his associates," and finally, it all clicked together for his own father as well.
"Because the Gold Cloaks and castle Guards are all paid off by the man," he added, understanding the ploy, and Cregan nodded.
"But what of the proof of his stealing and wrongdoings? You said that he has his men hired everywhere," and that was true.
And that was where the main strength of Petyr Baelish lay.
"I know the gist of his corruption and treachery," Cregan added cautiously as his father raised a brow.
"How?" he questioned, and the real answer was through careful observation.
Cregan had kept a close eye on the man for years, using his prowess, and saw him steal from the Crown's Coffers as he filled up his own.
"I just do," he replied as the room descended into silence as his father stared into his eyes.
"I can write you a list of the names of his prominent associates, but you must be careful with that," he continued, trying to move ahead.
"You must always keep it with yourself and must make sure that no one apart from you glimpse it," he added, as his father did not say anything.
"Then you must have all these men arrested at once," and it was the only way to bring down Petyr Baelish's massive enterprise as his father finally opened his mouth.
"You play it well," he spoke slowly, and there was both pride and sadness in his tone as Cregan asked with a frown.
"What?" he asked.
"This," his father clarified.
"The politics, the games, you play them well," he spoke softly as Cregan simply nodded.
"I have to," he replied honestly, because his whole family would be dead otherwise.
"Robert was right about you," and the words did surprise him a bit.
"You would make a fine Hand one day. A Hand better than me and Jon," and he had guessed the King's intentions well, and the words did make him proud.
But he wondered if such a time would truly come.
"But this, how am I to convince Robert of all this?" he questioned, and Cregan shrugged.
"That is up to you. You are his oldest friend, and he brought you to the capital for one reason only, because he trusts you. Beseech that trust, and make him see reason. And do not tell him of Lord Baelish's involvement in the assassination plot at first, speak to him only of his crimes of stealing and embezzelling," Cregan added, because he knew that as soon as Robert Baratheon learned that it had been Petyr's gold that had gotten Joffrey killed.
The man would fly into a fit of rage and would want to kill Baelish with his own hands and he could not have that, not until he had Baelish's gold under his own command.
"And what proof do we have of Baelish's involvement in that plot?" and that was a troubling question indeed, but had a simple answer.
"Me," Cregan voiced out as his father's eyes widened.
"The Bandits, I remember their words and when Baelishs' other crimes are revealed to the court, it would be his word against mine," and his father nodded.
"I had hoped that this would be a bit easy," he sighed, and Cregan stood up.
"I doubt it will get easier, but you will get used to it. Now I must go and rest myself, my presence will be expected at the funera...."
"Wait," his father called out as Cregan stopped and faced the man once more.
"Yes?" he asked as his father asked again in a grave tone.
"Before your arrival Lord Baelish told me of Jon Arryn," and Cregan frowned at that.
"About how he and Stannis visited a smith's shop on the Street of Steel, a smith named Tobho Mott..." and it took him a second to understand the man's ploy as he raised a brow.
"Yes, they did," he told the truth.
"And the visit does indeed concern the Queen's secret, but you must not let him distract you. We must deal with him first. The Queen and her treachery comes afterwards," he added, and while he saw his father try and argue against it.
The man decided against it in the end as he gave him a small nod.
Though, his own reasons were much different for he wondered if he should really expose Cersei's treachery, and if so, what benefit would it give him now.
"Go, we will talk later..."
0000
RENLY BARATHEON
Rare it was that Renly found himself both sad and elated at a funeral, and yet it had come true at the funeral of his, so called nephew.
He had watched the small folk weep at the death of their Prince, as if he meant anything to them. In his mind, they should be laughing and rejoicing that they had been spared his rule.
Bastard or not, none could deny Joffrey's cruel nature, not even Robert who had never truly loved the child. He had little doubts that Joffrey would have grown up to become a second Maegor, or worse yet a second Mad King but the realm had been spared.
All because of a few bandits who had foolishly chosen to attack the King's party during a hint in the frigid North, and now Joffrey Baratheon was dead, and the realm had a new Crown Prince. One far younger, and far better than the cruel jape that was Joffrey.
They had all gathered at the Royal burial site, and here lay graves of all the Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses that had come before, though none of them bore the name Baratheon, no for this dynasty was yet young and Joffrey would be the first of this dynasty to be buried here.
"Well, that was sad," Loras added from the side, and his knight of flowers looked so dashing in his black doublet as he stood by his side as the Queen and her two children cried over her son's grave.
"I would not say that,' he whispered back, and Loras raised a brow, his eyes brown, liquid gold met his own ocean blue orbs as Renly shrugged.
"Then what would you say?" Loras questioned.
"I would say that we should be celebrating," he whispered, making sure that his voice reached only his Squire's ears as Loras frowned.
"Celebrate?" Loras asked, in his naivety, and Renly nodded.
"Yes, because we have been spared his cruelty. With Robert's penchant for wine, and meats I had always feared the time when we would have been ruled by Joffrey, but I have been sleeping with much ease at night ever since his death," and Loras frowned.
"He was your nephew," and he doubted that. He was still not sure if the boy was really his nephew, or if any of Cersei's children shared his blood.
"That did not make him any more sane or likeable for that matter," and Loras shrugged, his hand passing through his brown curled locks as he sighed.
"Well, Prince Tommen is still young, what do you have to say about him?" and the boy was indeed young, but not so much.
"He is not his brother, that should be a blessing enough," and Loras shrugged.
"Well, I know someone who would make a finer king than them all," Loras whispered into his ear, and the song was so sweet, yet so treacherous.
But Renly still smiled as he grabbed his Loras's hand, as he whispered into his ear as he saw the ceremony end.
"Wait for me in my room. I will be there after the Council Meeting," he said, and as their gazes met again, he saw the small blush on Loras's face as he stared into his eyes with glinting orbs. It took much poise not to close the distance between their faces anymore as he let his feet carry him away.
"I will be there soon," and so he walked forward towards the tall, lean man who stood but a few rows ahead of him, a man who was having perhaps a time equally as bad as the Queen who had lost her child.
"Lord Baelish," he greeted the Master of Coins, who raised a brow at his greeting.
"Lord Renly," the man greeted back stiffly. The man was having rather troublesome days, and it had all begun with the death of the late Hand.
Petyr Baelish was a cunning man who had quickly risen through the ranks because of his friendship with the late hand's wife. He was a sly man who always tried to reach beyond his station, and prided himself in playing games with those around him.
And it loathed Renly that he had become a player in his games as the man learned of his
"The ceremony is over. Would you mind if I accompany you to the Council Chambers?" he asked politely, and the man raised a brow as he glanced back.
"Why? Did your previous company not please you enough," the insinuation of those words was not lost to him, but Renly stilled his face as he smiled.
"Well, you would know much about not being pleased these days," and after many years of the man's continuous jibes ad japes, it was fun to see him in trouble once.
"I do not know what you mean?" the man tried to downplay his failures, but Renly knew of them well. The whole council knew.
With Jon Arryn dead, his brother had chosen a new Hand. Eddard Stark, and as dour and stiff as the man was, it was visible to all how the man held little love for their Master of Coin.
"I have heard that the Lord Hand is not very happy with your handling of the Crown's coffers," and they began to walk towards the castle as Renly enjoyed seeing the man's lips thin.
"Well, why would he be after you have put the Crown six million into debt?" and he found it strange as well, though he held little patience for copper counting.
"The realm's finances are well accounted for, and as I have told the Lord Hamd, it is the King who spends the money, the Master of coin simply finds it," and he smirked at those words.
"And have you told him as well, how you claim to have taken his Lady wife to bed," and Petyr Baelish stopped as he turned to face him, his gaze filled with contempt as they stood at the gate of the Council Chambers.
"You grow rather bold, Lord Renly," he threatened him as he shrugged.
"And you need to be reminded of your place," Renly did not back down as he stepped forward.
"You no longer have Lord Arryn to defend you, and it would be best if you start making new friends," Renly asked and the man raised a brow. Before a smile slithered onto his lips.
"And I thought you and I were friends, afterall one would hesitate to call Ser Loras your friend now," and with that he leaned forward.
"You should also make ...."
"Is everyone here!" a voice boomed from behind them, as Renly turned back and saw the King walking towards the Council Chambers with his whitecloaks.
"Yes," Renly answered as Robert nodded and walked past them as the men opened the doors to the Council Chambers.
"Come, I do not wish to waste much time...."
And so began a council meeting that would change the very fate of the world.
0000
And as the rest of the people retired and left the graveyard, Prince Joffrey's grave became empty except for two rather unlikely people who stood there, and neither held much love for the boy.
They stood their, for themselves, for each other as Lord Tyrion Lannister turned towards the young Stark boy who stood beside him.
"It is truly a shame that he never got a chance to know how it feels to fuck a woman," and the boy besides him tried to hold his chuckle, as the golden-haired uncle of the Prince turned towards him.
"You can laugh, we both know that neither of us held much love for the departed Prince," after all, Prince Joffrey did call them both by the same name—Cripple. It made them comrades in a way.
And the boy did chuckle at those words as the small lord laughed and took a sip of the wine as he pointed at him.
"See, this is why I ask you to enjoy life while you can, or you may well die as well before knowing what it means to hold a woman," and the boy raised a brow as he turned towards the smaller lord.
"You do know that the King has betrothed me to your niece, the Princess Myrcella," and Tyrion Lannister found himself lost for words at the retort, but only for a second.
"Then you better yet enjoy all the pleasures while you can because if she grows up to be anything like my sister," and the man shook his head as he took another sip of the fine Arbor Gold.
"Then may the Gods have pity on you," and the boy shrugged.
"Then I shall pray that the Gods have some mercy on me and give me a life longer than our dear Prince," and the Lannister lord clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Even death does not move you, you truly are an enigma of a boy," but the man's mood turned somber, as he realised that all prying eyes and ears had now left them alone and so he stared into those grey Stark eyes and spoke what had been on his mind.
"Your attitude towards pleasures may not have shifted, but you have changed," he said, and Tyrion Lannister prided himself in being a good judge of character. He had spent weeks observing the boy and had come to this realization.
"What do you mean by that?" the boy asked, not denying his words as he did not relent and continued looking into his eyes.
"Before, you were like a wolf hiding in the shadows, simply biding its time as it let its prey forage infront of its eyes," and the little man patted himself on the back for the apt analogy as the young Stark boy raised a brow.
"And now?" the boy asked.
"Now, you have begun baring your teeth, your eyes, they glint just like a wolf's when it has set its eyes on its favored prey and is ready to pounce on it," and there was a tension in the air, one that had lingered even before the late Jon Arryn had passed, yet it still lingered in the air.
"Though I do wonder what prey is mighty enough to incite even you?" and the boy raised a brow.
"But aren't you a lion, Lord Tyrion? Why would you concern yourself with the fate of a prey?" and Tyrion Lannister's eyes narrowed as he whispered.
"Of course, I am concerned," he said as he took another swipe at the flagon, draining it completely of its blend of Arbor as he added.
"Afterall, you and I are kin now, and it is in family's nature to want to help one another," he offered his aide, whatever little value it may have.
"It is a generous offer, but you need not worry," the boy whispered as he turned around and made to leave.
"This bird, I can hunt on my own...."
And as he watched the boy's retreating back, he smirked as he realised the excitement that lay ahead of them.
"It seems like the direwolf has begun to bare its teeth...."
0000
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