Chapter 74
CREGAN STARK
Cregan sat in the Hand's solar as they entered the third day of celebration for the Royal Wedding, and the banquets and the feasts would last a dozen more days, along with a tournament that held a prize of over fifty thousand golden stags.
The windows to his side showed only the darkness of the night, for the Sun had long set. The city slept soundly, and he wondered if any of the people who had just witnessed a white walker for the first time would be able to sleep at all or if their sleep would be peaceful and sound.
"Was it all really necessary?" his father questioned as Cregan stared out at the city, thinking about the future and just how far he had come.
"What?" he asked, turning his head to gaze at his father once more.
"Showing them that thing," and even now, the fear was evident on his face as he mentioned the undead monsters, and he was not the only one. Often, he would find the same fear in his own eyes, when he would stare at himself in the mirror, and he had made great strides in preparing them for this upcoming War, and yet many a time the fear overwhelmed him.
But in the end, he could not falter. For he was King, and the fate of the entire world lay on his shoulders.
"I doubt that it would have remained a secret for long now," and it was better to show them the truth, than to let them speculate. Anyone with a keen enough gaze could tell that he was preparing the North for war, and now they knew just who he was preparing against.
"And now through them whispers will spread, and when the time comes for me to reveal the secret to the entire realm, then they shall be better prepared for it," and there were many amongst the summoned lords and ladies who were rather loose with their tongues, his own uncle especially.
But in this way, he also cemented their loyalties, for there were many who clung to grudges and hate for the reparations he had drawn and the hostages that he still held.
But now they knew exactly what was at stake, for going against him would not just be a simple act of treason. No, it would be a kin to betraying all of humanity itself.
"I needed the Lord Paramounts to understand the direness of the situation, and this was the only way for me to prove it." For now, all of them understood that the consequences of siding with the Blackfyres would be far more drastic than they had initially thought.
"It could backfire as well," his father remained skeptical of Southern lords, and for a man not well versed in the game of politics that was better than being overly trusting.
"There are many amongst them who might see this as an opportunity to stab you in the back," and that was always a possibility, and he even had some troubling reports from Qyburn about a certain blonde knight in the West meeting up with some rather troublesome sort of people.
"And they shall suffer the consequences for it," he announced in a cold fury that was attributed to the Starks. He had been rather forgiving and merciful until now, forgiving even the Dornish for their absolute treason.
But this was it.
One more step out of line. One whiff of treason, and his armies would march on from Duskendale and show all of these lords and ladies the actual consequences of treason.
"And what of the Iron Bank?" The Crown had long paid off its debt to the Iron Bank, and with its growing coffers and wealth, the Iron Bank had been seeking a joint venture of sorts for some time.
Cregan had little interest in such a venture, for if there was anyone he mistrusted more than lords and ladies, it was the bankers, for they had but one friend—Gold.
They had sent quite some lavish gifts for the Crown and Sansa for her marriage, hoping to curry favor with him, and in the end, after much deliberation, he had decided to include their representative, Tycho Nestoris, into the group, so as to dissuade them from making any misadventure.
"The Blackfyres have been meeting with the representatives of the Golden Bank for some time now to get a loan," for Varys and Illyrio had not only hired the Golden Company but around half a dozen other sellsword companies to combat his new army.
And feeding and moving such an army required a substantial sum of gold. Such wealth that it had dried up the coffers of over several dozen magisters and Princes from across the Sea, who had all bought into Illyrio and Varys's schemes.
"I have hampered them as much as I can from afar," and whether that was through assassinations, or hiring a sellsword company of his own to drum up some trouble, or even enticing a Dothraki horde to attack the Pentosh and Slavers Bay.
"But if they are able to secure a substantial loan from the Iron Bank, they will be able to buy the ships to land that entire army onto our shores," and he would never let that happen.
"And while the Iron bank may have little love for me, even they will understand that if the darkness of the true North wins, then all of the gold in the world would not be able to save them," and so he offered himself as a savior, one who had the plan and the power to deal with this upcoming darkness, hoping that they would make the better choice, if not for the right reason then for their very own greed.
His father's eyes narrowed as he gazed intensely at him before adding in a whisper.
"You have thought of everything," and there was both pride and pain in that tone.
And while they were father and son, they were also King and Hand.
"I have," and for years now, he had spent countless nights, making and remaking plans to deal with the wars headed his way, and had decided upon these plans after much trouble.
"So, I believe it is time for me to go home now," and for a year now, Cregan had been at war with his father over this decision, and though he had reluctantly agreed to his demand after putting it off for years, it still felt odd.
"You don't have to," especially since both Arya and Sansa would be staying here now, with Sansa wed to Willas, and Arya having her own interests.
"Robb has done a very good job of ruling over the North in your absence," and his brother had come into his own in the absence of their father, and both him and Jon had led the transformation and change in the North as they followed his advice and connected all the major city centres of the North with one another through a set of rudimentary roads.
"You have no need of me here now, Cregan," and while that may be true, but still having family to lean on was not the worst thing in the world.
"While I may have been the regent, the truth is known by all that you have ruled the realm for five years, and even your enemies would admit that you have ruled well," and he had tried his best.
But he had help.
"I am of the North, and it is time that I head home," and Cregan had tried his best to make him stay, but in the end, his father had made up his mind.
"Then I wish you well," and his father nodded.
"A letter came from Winterfell today," the man added, and Eddard Stark had aged. His dark hair had now turned half white, and the skin around his face had become much looser.
"Jon wrote to you," and of all the Starks, Jon manned Winterfell in the absence of Robb and his father, and though it was unfortunate that he had to miss Sansa's wedding, but they had little choice, for after five years they had finally managed to arrange a parlay with Mance Rayder.
"Yes, the King Beyond the Wall has arrived in Winterfell..."
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JAMIE LANNISTER
Jamie Lannister had been bound in a prison for half a decade now.
By law and birth, he was the heir to the castle of Casterly Rock, yet his father had made him a prisoner in his own lands, for he was confined to the castle walls, and wed to a woman of his choosing.
Alysanne Lefford was his wife, but she was more his father's servant. He may be her lord and husband, but he was not blind to how she spied on him for their father, telling him of his every thought and action.
But Jamie was helpless and alone. Of his two siblings, one was lost to him in death, and the other to the plot of a wretched and monstrous King who had taken everything from him.
And he could not help but curse as he thought of their new King, and how his father would often praise him for his actions, something which the Old Lion had never done for any of his children.
Yet he praised the boy, the very boy who had stolen his life, his love, and his family from him.
And Tywin Lannister was not the only one who sang praises of their Kings, for the Commoners all loved Cregan the Crafter, the King blessed by the Crone who had transformed their lives, who kept them fed and protected from the evils of the world, especially the wretched Blackfyres.
And he had thought it all a ploy from the boy, a little game just like the one he had played with him and Tyrion to shut down opposition to his creation of a Royal Army, but only later would he learn that there was truth to the plot.
That Rhaegar's sister still lived, and was indeed being protected by Varys and a Magister from Pentos, along with a mysterious boy, who claimed to be the son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen.
A claim which he knew to be false, for he had sat on the Iron Throne as Elia and her children's screams had filled the Halls. He had been there when his father had presented the bodies of the two murdered babes to Robert Baratheon, who had smiled upon seeing the two innocent children's dead bodies, calling them, as he had Rhaegar, Dragonspawns.
It was obvious to him that Varys was lying, that the boy they were hiding was not Elia's son, but an impostor pretending to carry Rhaegar's legacy.
But that did not matter to him. Not now, for Jamie cared little for who sat on the Iron Throne.
No, all he cared about was revenge. For himself and for his other half, no longer in this world.
The rest of the realm may have forgotten about Cersei, but he had not forgotten. He remembered her face, her eyes, her touch, and their love.
He remembered it all.
And most importantly, he remembered her death, and the one whose hand lingered behind all the tragedies of his life—Cregan Stark.
The boy had escaped with only a scratch five years ago, but now Jamie would get his revenge.
His father had not left Casterly Rock in five years, both as a protest and as a way of keeping an eye on him and his life. The servants, the maids, the cooks, and even his wife and children all whispered about him and his activities to his father, who treated Jamie as if he did not exist.
Through his marriage, Tywin Lannister had found himself the heir he had needed, for Alysanne Lefford had given birth to a boy three years ago, named Cerion Lannister.
And now the Lion of the West had set his eyes on that young, innocent soul to follow in his footsteps, to do what both he and Tyrion had failed in doing.
But Jamie was not quite done. Not yet.
He hungered for revenge, and now, with the Old Lion away from Casterly Rock, he had the perfect opportunity as he rode into the town around the castle and reached a little tavern to meet with the only person who could help him get his revenge.
The cloak hid his face and clothes as he scanned the tables, looking for the man until his eyes landed on one sole figure sitting at the table in the corner, holding a giant Golden Goblet in his hand.
Jamie walked up to the man and sat down opposite to him as he whispered the words.
"Beneath the Gold," he whispered, as the man raised a brow.
"The Bittersteel...."
.
.
.
And across the sea, the Spider sat with the fat Magister Illyrio as they gazed at the army gathered around the manse.
"She has become suspicious of us," the Spider whispered, and the Magister nodded.
"Yes, she has," and the once docile and innocent Princess had begun to grow up, and with that, her desire for revenge and returning to a land she had never ever called home was fading.
"This could cause trouble for us," but the fat magister was not concerned as he turned back and walked towards his giant chair and plopped down on it, with a thud. The wood creaked under his weight.
"No, not really," he rubbished the bald eunuch's fears.
"She may be suspicious of us, but she also knows that she has no allies but us. We control her life, and if she dares to defy us, then that very life will be forfeit," and Illyrio picked up a plum from the basket before he added.
"And the death of a Princess of blood is just the thing that gets the blood men boiling with rage and revenge," and that was a new plan, one that they had not discussed before.
"You plan to kill her?" Illyrio shrugged.
"If she refuses to play the game," and the juices from the plum ran down his face as he bit into it with no care.
"That is cruel, even for you," and the Magister laughed.
"What is so cruel about this?" Illyrio defended himself.
"A farmer feeds and raises a sheep only to shear its skin and eat its meat. Why must we treat humans any differently than sheep or cattle?" and that was true.
"After all, both of them are just flesh, blood, and meat," yet he did not speak of killing cattle. He spoke of killing a Princess of blood.
"And what of the Martell Prince?" and the boy King had proven himself quite a stubborn and deliberate opponent, and he had an inkling that this sudden visit from the Dornish Prince was another one of the Stark King's ploys to sow doubt in the heart of the Princess.
"What about him?" Illyrio scoffed, frowning at the question.
"Kill him, of course. He must not be allowed to set foot here in Essos..."
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