Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Beans
The Celestial Wolf
Chapter 06: Backhand
– Artos Stark –
"Are you drunk?" I ask plainly, getting a laugh from the King. Mother gives me a dirty look, and the Kingsguard stiffen at the disrespect but Robert just grins. "I can't stand southern politics, and I've got my new land to take care of. In what world would I make a good Hand of the King?"
100cp granted. 100cp total.
"I've got enough southern schemers already," Robert waves off, unbothered by my points. "Why do you think I wanted your father to take the job? I need someone I can trust not to be plotting my demise, and with Jon gone, there's a grand total of fucking nobody left in the South I trust enough to give the position. Besides, you can make it from the Red Keep to Winterfell in less time than it takes Pycelle to climb up to the council room. I'm not asking you to stay in the Red Keep all the time, Gods know I wouldn't if I didn't have to."
A large part of me says to refuse entirely but then I pause. I think the North could use me not being around for a bit. Robb can get out of my shadow a little more if I fuck off to the south for a year or two.
"Do I get to hit annoying people?" I ask plainly.
"You'd be the Hand of the King. You act with my authority. Damn right you can hit anyone causing trouble," Robert laughed. "I'd have paid to see Jon slap some of the cunts around."
"The Backhand of the King," I muse, getting him to burst out laughing.
"Ha! Might just be what those scheming cunts need," Robert agrees. "Never thought I'd have so much trouble finding someone to fill the second highest power position in the fucking kingdom."
"Oh, I'm sure you've got thousands wanting it. That's the issue, the people you can trust with power are the same ones that don't want the fucking thing in the first place," I snort. "Aren't the other Great Houses going to throw a bitchfit over this? You're giving that very wanted position to some brat from the North."
"Aye, they'll bitch alright. Luckily, you did the kingdom a service by capturing the Beggar Prince and stopping a war before it could happen. The Dothraki horselord had agreed to war on Westeros for Daenerys and you killed the cunt before he could even look west," Robert grunts. "Between that and Joffrey's fuck up, I can excuse picking you. Won't cheer them up, but it's enough for it to be legitimate."
"I'll give you an answer tomorrow. I want to seek my parents counsel first," I finally answer, getting a nod from him.
"I swear, if I get turned down by two Starks in one week…" Robert grumbles, though he doesn't look serious. I've been waiting for the Southerners to fuck off south, wasn't expecting to be going with them.
Finding myself in my father's office, I can see the indecision on his and my mothers' faces before I even say anything.
"I can just tell him to fuck off. I do have the Neck to handle," I offer. I'm not exactly attached to the idea. "But I was thinking that it'd help Robb if I fucked off south for a bit. Not for long, but maybe a year or two."
"Maybe," Father agrees with a soft sigh. "Though being the second Stark to hold the office would only increase your fame."
"Perhaps, but can it really go any higher? After everything, holding some southern office isn't exactly on the same level. Especially since my power keeps growing," I point out, pausing as Robb enters.
"You're saying no, right?" Robb asks. "You belong in the North."
"And I always will. But the King wasn't wrong. For me, the North is a short trip. I could make it ten times a day," I point out. "Father? Mother?"
"If you accept, take your mother with you. You'll need her," Father says, after sharing a look with her. "The South isn't like the North."
"Especially if I can come back and forth whenever I need to. I don't love the idea but… you could find out what happened to Jon Arryn," Mother agrees. "That's what you're thinking, isn't it Ned?"
"Aye. A letter from Lysa claimed the Lannisters did it, but you can ask Jon directly. You might be the best suited for investigating his death," Father agrees. I know he saw Jon Arryn as a father figure, and the old Hand's death has been shoved aside by all the chaos that is going on. But I know my father enough to know that it must be eating away at him. "If you do this, and it is your choice, be careful. Poisons might still work on you. They don't fight fair down there, and people will want you dead. Even if you step on no toes, your mere presence is an insult to everyone who wanted the position. Being passed over for me, the Lord of a Great House, would have angered them. You will infuriate them merely by existing. A Northern Highborn, and one so young. A follower of the Old Gods, rather than the Seven."
"But you want me to go," I say.
"Jon Arryn deserved better. He was said to have been in perfect health but then he died suddenly. He was old, but he kept himself active and in good health. If he was murdered, I owe it to him to find out who did it and bring them to justice. But at the same time, I don't want to endanger you to avenge a dead man," Father admits.
"You aren't. The South knows I exist, and that'll be enough for some of the southron cu- lords," I correct, seeing my mother sigh as Robb tries to hide his laughter. "The Lannisters already know about my powers. Soon, the rest will. I give it a month before someone tries to kill me."
"A week if you go south," Robb continues, scowling.
"Aye, so I say we stop pussyfooting around. Let them try. Better to have them try to bite me than to stay as snakes in the grass," I say with a scowl of my own. "I prepare my own food, have my own wine, and I'll be careful. I'd rather face them down there than have them try and come North to deal with me. Better to keep their eyes away from the North, right?"
I don't need to mention Jon to get my point across. Plus, I've got a lot of siblings who could get hurt in any attempt on my life. Better they try when I'm in the South.
"A fair point," Mother says, giving me a nod. "I agree with Artos, as long as the King agrees that Artos can leave the position if he wants to."
"Technically, any Hand of the King can resign at will. I'll speak to Robert tonight, and negotiate with him. I can't see him disagreeing," Father says, rubbing his chin. "Are you sure about this, Artos?"
"Fuck no. I'd rather the South stay south but they don't seem to want to do that so if we've got to deal with them, I'd rather it be on their own turf rather than in our backyard," I scoff. "I swear, my first move as the Lord of the Neck is going to build a second Wall from the Flint Cliffs to the Bite, and write 'Southerners, Fuck Off' on it."
Feat Achieved: Become the Hand of the King. 400cp granted. 500cp total.
Well, at least something good has come out of this fucking mess.
[Rise of the Jaguar Men] - 100cp, 400cp remaining
There was always one animal that got most closely associated with you in all the stories. Tigers, panthers, spiders, a lot of gods have something going on when it comes to animals and you're another just like this. There's a very strong affinity between you and one normal kind of animal, such as the above examples or another mundane creature that lived between 10AD and 1953AD. Not only does this make these animals act as well trained and affectionate pets towards you when wild and untamed, even sapient versions of these animals or beings that are only partly connected to them will be much friendlier to you and feel a bond with you. You may also find magic connected to these beings to be significantly stronger than normal. Lastly, you can partially or fully transform yourself into your animal and pass that gift along to whoever you please.
Oh gee, I wonder which kind of animal I have an affinity with?
[Body of a Titan] - 400cp, 0cp remaining
Your strength has reached levels that even other Titans boggle at, able to lift up to 2 tons with difficulty. Your Light passively reinforces any armor you wear, letting you withstand twice the punishment before falling. Your battle instincts have sharpened to the point that you could fight without thinking, ripping into your enemies like a raging bull. Your abilities shine when on the defensive, able to take on forces twice the strength of your own and still have even odds of winning.
An amazing power, though somewhat wasted on me because I can use my internal fire to empower myself in the same way and I'm already more defensive than this. The strength increase is nice, but not a massive increase. I almost wish I could give it to Robb-
Transfer [Body of a Titan] to Robb Stark?
What.
Since when can I do that? Yes, transfer it. The whole heir fuckery would be a lot simpler if you told me I could do this from the start. Damn voice in my head.
"What the fuck?!" Robb asks, glowing for a moment.
"Artos?" Father asks.
"Turns out I can just gift my powers to other people," I say with a grin. "How's it feel to join the ranks of the superhuman, Robb? Ready to throw a grown man across the battlefield with your bare hands?"
"I feel like I could bring down a castle with my fists alone," Robb admits, looking incredibly conflicted.
"Robb, if you're about to say some noble bullshit about taking it back, I will hurt you. Not that much, because you're empowered now, but I'll give it my best," I snort. "It's a small increase for me, because my Ambient Magic does the same shit for the most part. Someone needs to handle the North while I'm down south."
"...you just don't want to be even stronger and accidentally kill some southron when you lose your temper again," Robb realises.
"Yeah. If I punch someone with this, I'd cave in their faces. Too much power is a dangerous thing, and the kind of fights I'm going into aren't the type where I'll need this much strength. Can't have the future Lord of Winterfell be weaker than his vassal, right?" I say, punching him in the shoulder, hard. If I punched someone else, it'd shatter their shoulder. Robb barely budges as he grins, because as much as he tries to pull the noble bullshit, of course he wants super strength. "Better yet, I just gained the power to turn into a wolf, that gives me an affinity for all wolves, that I can share. I'm sharing it with all of you. I might be the first, but the damned whispers should shut up when every Stark can turn into a wolf and you can throw around armoured knights like they're made of parchment."
"Are you certain?" Father asks.
"Of course," I agree easily, a grin on my face. "Oh, and Theon is staying in Winterfell. Robb, look after him while I'm gone. Cregan is coming with me."
"Scared he'd eat half the Red Keep?" Robb asks with a grin.
"Scared I'd be tempted to order him to before the first day is over," I laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder as I focus and share the wolf shifting gift. Old Nan has told stories of Shapechangers, but now House Stark is a true house of wolves. Because he has no self control, a red shaggy wolf is in his place before I can even pull my hand back, panting happily. Mother gasps, but Father just sighs fondly as I hold out a hand to him. He hesitates, before grasping it and gasping slightly as the power enters him. Unlike Robb, he doesn't change instantly, but instead closes his eyes in thought.
"Robb, turn back," Father orders, watching as Robb shifts back, his clothes still in place. "You intend to give this to all your siblings, don't you?"
"Of course. Do you think a single one would forgive me if I refused? Arya would trek south just to kick me between the legs," I laugh.
"And Jon?" Robb asks, killing some of my humour. Ugh. I can already feel a dozen excuses forming in the back of my throat about keeping this to the 'main line' and other such bullshit that would just be lies to cover for the far simpler answer of 'I just don't want to'.
"Maybe it'll make sure he doesn't forget he's a wolf, and start dreaming of scales and wings," I say, arms crossed. Robb gives me a grateful look, and Father nods once. The more Stark Jon looks, the better for everyone involved. "But forget that. Come on, oh Heir of Winterfell. I've finally got someone I can wrestle with without worrying about breaking them. Me and you, in the courtyard."
"You're on, little brother," Robb taunts.
"Nothing little about me," I grin. "Wrestle first, then a run in the Wolfswood?"
"I'll grab the others. Coming, Father?" Robb asks.
"I have to speak with the King, first. Don't leave without me. Especially don't let Arya or Rickon run off ahead," Father says firmly. "Now, go play. I know you two too well, and I won't have you demolishing my office because you got impatient."
"Wanna track down Arya as wolves and try to scare her?" Robb asks as we give Father a respectful nod and head off.
"Won't work. She spends too much time with (Better) Theon to be scared of a scraggy wolf like you. Let's tell her we got the powers after consuming the Beggar Prince's dragon blood or something like that instead," I muse, as we set off on our quest. "Get some tomato juice and I bet we can convince her to drink it."
"Ha! Yeah, that'll work," Robb agrees, nudging me with his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you while you're off playing southern bullshit."
"What the fuck do you mean? I'm coming back for dinner twice a tenday," I snort.
"...even after we went all the way to Essos in a day, I keep forgetting how fast your ship is," Robb admits.
"You think I'd go down there if I couldn't run home in the blink of an eye? I'd go stir crazy in a week. Give it a month and I'd make Cregan's Hour of the Wolf look like a friendly squabble and you'd be getting ravens of a mad wolf burning down King's Landing and killing every schemer in sight," I laugh.
"And nothing of value would be lost," Robb replies.
"Except the southern girls," I agree, getting a laugh from him as we head off to find the others. It's late so Arya should be in bed.
Naturally, that means she isn't.
– Next Morning –
Ambient magic is a wonderful thing.
Because it means I can use my internal flame to effectively wake myself up despite the long night of fucking around in the forest as a wolf. It also means I'm the only Stark at breakfast, besides Mum who declined this gift. As she put it, she's a Trout not a Wolf. Her reasoning was sound, to be fair. She doesn't have any Stark blood so it's best to keep this power with those that do rather than sharing it with people outside the family. If I gave it to her, it'd open up the possibility to give it to countless other people whereas now it looks like something I awakened within my fellow Starks.
Word travels fast, because too many people saw us and we weren't really trying to hide. The King just laughed that it'd be useful on hunts, because he really is a simple man sometimes.
Sitting next to him, I stuff my face as he does the same, ignoring the shiny pin on my chest. Artos Stark, Hand of the King. What a fucking joke. But, if the King wants to cause stress-induced heart attacks in literally everyone south of the Twins, so be it. Far be it for me to disagree.
"So, what the fuck does a Hand do?" I ask, feeling the entire room pause. Yeah, this is who you picked. Get used to it.
"Command my armies, write my laws, beat the Small Council into doing their fucking jobs. When we get to the Red Keep, I'll point out Varys. You're hitting him first," Robert replies uncaringly. "You handle the day-to-day running of the Kingdom, while I eat, drink and fuck."
"And you wonder why my father didn't want this position?" I ask, getting a laugh from him. "Is there at least good hunting in the Kingswood?"
"The best in the Kingdom. I had Jon set the fuckers to work making sure the Kingswood is nice and populated, and Renly work to keep poachers out," Robert boasts proudly. "Anyway, I've got your first order for you. We're going on a little tour."
"Oh? Planning to run off to Essos already?" I ask.
"Nah. I know the fuckers who call themselves my Lords Paramount, and too much has gone on for me to just send ravens explaining everything. If I call the cunts to King's Landing, it'll take months and some won't even bother showing up. We're going to use your ship to visit each of them and lay down what happened before the rumours twist everything," Robert grunts. "With your ship, we can hit Riverrun, the Eyrie, Casterly Rock and Highgarden in a single tenday. Plus, I want to deliver the Hightower woman back to her family, and wash my hands of that entire fucking mess. We'll leave her at Highgarden, get the Tyrells to take her back home. She's Mace's goodsister anyway."
"Not Pyke, Storm's End or Sunspear?" I ask, getting a scowl as he bites into a chicken leg.
"Fuck the Ironborn cunts. Who cares what they think? Renly is in the Red Keep, so no need to go there and I'll not give the fucking Dornish a chance to poison me. The Martells would sooner piss on my corpse than host me for a night," Robert replies with a scowl. "I'm half tempted to ignore Highgarden. The fuckers sided with the Dragons, after all, but they're too rich to ignore. Half the grain in the Kingdoms comes from them. They've not been in court since, but Renly keeps pushing to bring them back into the fold. I always tell him to fuck off, but we might as well head over and lay down the law."
"Might be worth flying down to Sunspear anyway. Show them that you have your eyes on the sneaky fuckers. Might be less likely to scheme if they know they're not even a halfday's sail away," I point out. "Don't stay the night, show up in the morning, lay down the law, then fuck off before they can try anything."
Everything I know about the Dornish says they're untrustworthy sneaky cunts. Leaving them to fester sounds like a rebellion waiting to happen and fighting in the fucking sand sounds miserable.
"Ha! Would be worth it just to see Doran's face, the miserable schemer. Aye. We'll do that," Robert agrees. "Your ship is basically a dragon, and knowing you could fly down and reenact the end of the First Dornish War, burning down their cities from the skies, they might be less likely to try anything stupid. Jon always said we should try and make peace with the Targ loyalists, but Doran wouldn't spit on me if I was on fire."
"Peace through overwhelming might is still peace," I reply with a scowl. The Dornish are about the only people willing to break guest rights. They should have been slaughtered to the last after Wyl of Wyl showed up at Ser Jon Cafferen's wedding, gelded him and had the bride and her handmaidens gangraped and sold to slavers. The fact that House Wyl still exists is a crime. Dornish cunts. "People are less likely to try anything if you've got a fist around their throats. Besides, it's best to make sure the Targ loyalists know there ain't no fucking Targs left to be loyal to. Dany has surrendered her claim, the Beggar Prince surrendered his life."
"I give it three months before some Targ fanatic is whispering in Daenerys' ears about her rightful claim," Robert scoffs.
"And Dany will be here, in the North, with no Targ loyalists in sight. She'll be in Eiganjo when I'm home and Winterfell when I'm not. I think a Dornishman might stand out a bit this far north, assuming they make it all the way before freezing to death," I counter. "It'll take them that long just to reach her, and she's no fool. She knows people will be watching her."
Robert just grunts in agreement, scowling for a moment before he relaxes. I don't know if he intended it, but putting Dany in the North has made it a bitch and a half for any schemers to try and use her.
"Ned will keep an eye on her," Robert finally agrees, nodding once. I think he forgot that I was supposed to be doing it before he made me Hand, diverting my attention to King's Landing.
This is going to be a strange time for the Seven Kingdoms, to say the least.
"Mother, you coming with? Might as well, since we're going to see Grandfather and Aunt Lysa," I point out.
"If that is fine with His Grace, of course," Mother agrees, barely getting the words out before Robert enthusiastically invites her along for the ride.
– Days Later –
Visiting Grandfather Hoster was an interesting experience. He's downright ancient, bedridden and yet… I think he might be one of the smartest people I've met. There's a dangerous mind inside that old wrinkly head. Even still, it was mildly amusing watching him try to wrap his head around 'your Grandson ended the Targaryen rebellion before it could begin, has super powers and is the Hand of the King.'
He and Mother spent a long time in his solar. I know he's a firm follower of the Seven and having such a heretical grandson must be a confusing time, but he seemed welcoming enough after their conversation. Confused, but welcoming.
Riverrun is nice, and the hunting in the Whispering Wood was pretty good. I don't think anyone is surprised that King Robert is using this as a chance to hunt everywhere we go. I don't mind, between my Ranger skills, Cregan, and my wolf form, we bagged some mighty game. Uncle Edmure joined us, but I'm not much sure what to think of him one way or the other. He's a pleasant enough fellow, anyway.
More than I can say for this lunatic.
"I swear, Aunt Lysa, I will find out who killed Lord Arryn and bring them to justice," I try, unnerved by the warped, twisted reflection of my mother. She looks a decade older and far more unhinged. And my mother would never breastfeed Rickon with guests. That's my cousin?
Sweetrobin is not exactly… the boy is four years older than Rickon and yet is still being breastfed? Plus he looks sickly, and… underdeveloped. I think Rickon could beat him in a fight, even without his new wolf form.
"Aye, Lysa. If Jon was murdered, the fucker who did it will die screaming," Robert grunts, his eyes lingering on her bare breast for a moment. "Artos, look into it when we get to Kings Landing."
Lysa doesn't exactly look pleased with our promise, and I don't blame the King for wanting to get out of the Eyrie as soon as possible. He and Father were fostered here, but it's not much of a home at the moment and our host looks like she's one wrong word away from trying to throw us out of the Moon Door. Leaving Lysa to mother, I share a look with Robert that mostly just says 'something ain't right about that one' before Robert finds the steward.
…so we can go hunting in the Vale of Arryn, of course. Still, if it's hunting or spending one more minute with my crazy aunt and cousin, I know where I'm going. I'm half-convinced that the King tried to recruit my father as his Hand just so he'd have a friend to hunt and drink with, and he's decided I'm a fitting substitute.
Luckily, I like hunting and drinking as well. Wonder what the hunting around Casterly Rock and Highgarden is like?
– Margaery Tyrell –
She was a woman raised to be Queen. That had been her family's entire goal from the moment she was born. To get a Tyrell Queen, through her. She'd been raised, trained and cultivated to be the perfect Queen.
She wasn't sure of Loras and Renly's hopes to make her Robert's Queen by replacing Cersei, even if Renly insisted that his brother was not happy with the Lannister Queen. Robert was not exactly what she would want in a lover, after all, but she had a duty to House Tyrell and if the opportunity arrived, she wouldn't hesitate to try and get his attention.
So, when she heard that the King had arrived in Highgarden, without his queen, she'd assumed the time had come for her to try and gain the King's lusts, if not love. She wouldn't bed him, becoming another fool who'd gotten knocked up by the horndog King, of course, but it would allow her to lay the groundwork for future attempts to displace the Lannisters. To tempt and tease, leaving him with a positive impression of her and a lingering lust that would haunt his dreams.
…but what the fuck did it mean when the King arrived on a flying golden ship?
Her usual charm was replaced with sheer befuddlement as the King explained why he was here, tossing her Aunt at them with orders to send the woman back to Hightower where she was to spend the rest of her days.
Prince Joffrey had been removed from the succession line, Tommen was to be the next King. This could… change things. She could see the wheels turning in her family's heads, suddenly wondering if it would be better to try and have her become Tommen's Queen, a far more acceptable pairing to her mind.
But any scheming was left behind in the wake of… Artos Stark and his Flying Ship. Tales of him idly conjuring entire castles, flying to Essos in a day to retrieve Lynesse and her slaver husband, wiping out Dothraki hordes with rays of fire, being immune to blades. She'd heard them all from the boastful King, while Artos seemed to have no real interest in boasting himself, explaining that he was just ferrying the King around to spread news of the developments that had occurred.
Artos Stark, Aegis of the North. The new Hand of the King. How did such a being fit in with their plans?
Her family had been quick to praise him for removing such an ugly stain on their reputation, having her aunt be the trophy of some Lys Merchant Prince after profiting from slavery was not a good look after all. He shrugged off their praise in a very Northern way, explaining that he'd done it for his friends in House Mormont, they just happened to benefit from it.
As her father pushed for the royal visit to stay the night, promising a feast and wine, she half expected herself to be pushed toward the King.
She was not.
"Grandmother, are you suggesting I-" Margaery trailed off, face flushed slightly. "I was told that my maidenhead was too important to lose."
"Gods grant me patience. No, I wasn't suggesting you throw away your virginity on a fling," Olenna scoffed, in that 'I can't believe you're this stupid' tone of hers that was usually reserved for her father. "Frankly, we have no idea how Artos and his weirdness is going to affect anything. His 'powers' are apparently growing, and if the King has any sense in that fat head of his he'd be throwing Princess Myrcella at him to tie those powers to the Baratheon rule. He's already put aside one son, why not do it again? Especially given that it would get him a Stark for a Goodson, and the man is biased to all things North. Half the reason we had any chance of Loras' scheme working is because the man is still longing for a Stark Girl long dead."
"Oh, I thought- it did sound like you were suggesting I seduce him," Margaery pointed out. In truth, she wasn't against the idea because Artos was a tall, muscular and handsome warrior with an alluring grin and wild look. Olenna sighed, sounding entirely too put-upon.
"Have I taught you nothing about men? The Gods granted you three holes and a pair of tits for a reason, girl. Do I have to spell it out?" Olenna grumbled, making Margaery realise that she had very much not misunderstood.
"Grandmother!" Margaery gasped, scandalised.
"I'm not saying to throw yourself at him, but men love to boast. We need to know what the Starks are up to. This… castle of theirs sounds an awful lot like a challenge to the entire South. A challenge the King was too slow to notice. The realm is a mess, and one misstep away from war. If such a thing happens, I want to make sure we don't end up on the other side of a man who could fly a fucking golden ship over Highgarden and burn it all down," Olenna grumbled. "And now that magic castle of his plays host to a fucking Targaryen Princess? Oh, sure, she's given up her claim with a sword to her throat but her words are worth as little as the parchment they're on. An unstable realm, unhappy Lords, and now we throw in a Targaryen Princess who is living with a magical wolf? Bah. Even if this Daenerys doesn't try to take back the throne, half the Lords of the realm will try to put her on it anyway. We need to know how the wind is blowing so we don't end up on the losing side. Again. House Tyrell hasn't been welcome in court for over a decade after we chose the wrong horse. We won't be so lucky as to get ignored if we pick the wrong side, again. So, we need to know just how powerful this Artos is. You heard the King. Robb Stark can apparently lift a grown man with one hand. Every Stark can turn into wolves. There's fuckery at foot, and I don't want to find out what the Starks can do when they turn around and burn Highgarden to the ground with us still inside it."
"Could he really do that?" Margaery asked, frowning to herself.
"Aegon took over the realm with three dragons and two sisters. Artos has two sisters, and a bunch of brothers to go with it. Now, he's got a dragon of his own. You heard the tales of Artos burning hordes of Dothraki screamers with the fire of his ship. Artos didn't boast, but he didn't correct the King either. And no dragon could make it from Winterfell to Lys in a day. I've dragged some answers out of Lynesse, and she mentioned him burning down the estate of the Merchant Prince she was whoring herself to," Olenna grunted. "She saw him ignore the blades of Dothraki warriors as he tracked down the Mormont, defeating this 'Drogo', allegedly the strongest Dothraki Khal, like it was nothing. Then the boy went and duelled Viserys and slew the 'dragon'. Legends have been made for far less. And living legends are the most dangerous of all. The fat King kept his throne, despite his best efforts to piss it away, because the realm respects 'the Demon of the Trident'. I doubt the fool could even raise his hammer anymore, but they still talk about his great deeds with bated breath. A legend becomes a symbol, a symbol becomes a cause and a cause becomes a war."
Margaery went quiet, well aware that her grandmother was right. Even now, she knew people told tales and sung ballads about King Robert's strength and skills as a warrior.
"The Starks are loyal to the King, thanks to Eddard being his foster brother, and in spite of the Crown all but ignoring the region that did the most to win Robert his throne to begin with. No Northern Lord was given positions of power, or any kind of reward at all, for aiding in Robert's Rebellion and then in the Greyjoy Rebellion for good measure. Now, the former crown prince tries to stab Eddard Stark's son? Bah," Olenna continued, more speaking to herself than to Margaery. "The King is fat, drunk and seeks to relive his glory days with endless hunts and tourneys. I'll probably outlive him, and when he's gone, that tie to the North is gone too, unless something changes. Sansa or Arya Stark could become the next Queen. Myrcella could find herself a Stark husband. Maybe both, if the King has any sense in his head. If not, I doubt that loyalty will be worth piss in a decade. The Starks are wolves, not dogs, they won't stay undyingly loyal to a throne that doesn't return that loyalty. Then, all Daenerys has to do is convince the Starks, or Artos, to fight for her. If she shows up in King's Landing on a golden ship with the Aegis of the North by her side, half the realm will kneel without bothering with a fight. But, all this comes down to Artos and the Starks. If they're getting some magical nonsense, we need to know what they have, and what they intend to do with it."
With the King being so fond of the Starks, it would be all too easy to see him arranging for Sansa Stark to marry the Crown Prince, especially as he made no real effort to hide his distaste for House Tyrell. Every mention of Daenerys had him almost glaring at them, reminding them that they had fought for the Mad King. If he had a choice between her and a Stark as his gooddaughter, Margaery had zero doubt who he would pick.
She doubted she was even in the running, in Robert's mind. But they'd always known they were fighting an uphill battle with him. If the Starks were suddenly going to become far more important and powerful, her chance with Tommen might already be dead in the water. But at the same time, her grandmother was right. King Robert might not be long for this world, by his own design by the look of it. Even if she could seduce him away from the Queen, get him to enrage the Lannisters and the Faith by putting Cersei aside for her, she couldn't even guarantee that he could impregnate her before his poor decisions killed him. Or that he'd put aside Tommen for any potential child he might have with her.
Renly and Loras' plan had many flaws, but that didn't mean she was willing to just give up.
Artos Stark had changed things, but not necessarily for the worse.
— Bonus Scene — Petyr Baelish
Lysa had always been a poor replacement for Cat.
He had no real affection for the delusional woman, but she shared just enough of Cat's appearance to be worth keeping around, and she had her uses, as shown with her dearly departed husband.
But sometimes, he really wished he'd never bothered dealing with her to begin with.
Reading her letter again, he frowned before he snorted and tossed it into the fire. The raven had brought some useful information to him, to be sure, but most of it was worthless. Artos Stark was the Hand of the King, which was… odd. Useful, as someone that unprepared for the position was no threat to him or his plans, but odd. The King's whims, it seemed. Catelyn was coming to King's Landing with her son, away from Eddard. Very interesting, and something that put a genuine smile on his face.
But why, in the name of the Gods, was Lysa ranting about the Stark boy having magical powers and a flying ship? Had the death of Jon finally cracked her mind entirely?