don't own Ranma or ASoIaF. For the first, I would have made it somewhat more realistic, and for the other, well, just check my update speed man. Heh.
In other news: Russia creating its own internet? Um, I know I've got two Russian fans for my Harry Marvel cross, so I hope this doesn't happen. I think Putin is off his meds, I just hope no one who reads my stories is affected by his imperialist ambitions.
I would like to thank my beta Jessolt for his aid, without him, this chapter would not be at the writing level it is now.
Chapter 5 A Straight Line in the Land of Zigzags, a Mountain's Fall
Theon stood somewhat more nervously than normal in front of Lord Manderly in the Merman's Court, the feast hall of New Castle. This feast hall was unique because instead of being simple stone rock with a smattering of banners, tapestries, and trophies its walls, floor, and ceiling were covered with wooden planks fitted together with care then decorated with paintings of all the creatures of the sea on a light blue/green background.
The hall had nothing to with why Theon was nervous. That was because this was the first time he had been here without Ranma and he knew that, despite his appearance, Wyman Manderly was one of the more dangerous lords of the North. Not personally, Wyman was so fat he couldn't ride a horse and at about sixty-five years old, he was one of the three oldest lords in the North. People even made fun of him, calling him the Fat Lamprey, or Ser-Too-Fat-To-Ride-A-Horse, yet for all his outward appearance, Wyman was incredibly intelligent, shrewd, and subtle.
White Harbor also gave House Manderly a position of strength that no other house in the North could match. The silver mines that they controlled plus the trade going up the White Knife and out to sea from it made them the richest house in the North as well. Only Winterfell, mainly because of their relatively new position as breadbasket of the North, could come close to matching that. Above all that, he and his House was known to be loyal to House Stark.
Wyman looked at Theon with shrewd eyes, smirking a little. "This appointment of yours from Lady Catelyn and young Jon, excuse me, young Bran, is rather openhanded, advisor to the fleet? What exactly does that mean?"
"It means, Ser, that Bran and Lady Catelyn were afraid that because you don't have anyone who is truly learned about ship to ship combat that you would need my expertise. Not, I hasten to add, that your men don't fight well but I know for a fact that you take more casualties at sea against pirates then you really need to…" His voice trailed off looking at the Lord.
Wyman guffawed, slapping his hands on his knees. "True enough, I suppose. My experienced men are spread throughout the fleet now. It's grown in the past few years, which you already know." Indeed, seven new galleons had been created in the past two years and five more before that, giving house Manderly forty ships in total, though most were trade carracks rather than war galleys. Only fifteen were war galleys but more were being laid down even now and the others weren't totally helpless. But Theon was right, in terms of naval warfare they were kind of feeling their way into it.
No one in the Manderly fleet had been part of suppressing the Iron Born Rebellion or the War of the Nine Penny Kings and, despite the nature of seafaring, sailors from the different realms of Westeros tended to keep to their own even in foreign ports. So Wyman had been unable to bring in any experts worth the money on ship to ship combat, let alone how best to organize defended convoys. Still, there were few enough pirates who plied their trade this far north, where storms were severe, ice in the rigging was normal nearly every night, and frostbite was a constant danger to your crew. However, the nature of the supplies heading to Eastwatch-by the sea; foodstuffs, men, women who were going to enlarge the small village/port there, and weapons might make some of the greedier of them overcome their dislike of the conditions.
"Very well, I'll send you out on one of the war galleys with the first shipments to go up to the Wall. Until then, lad, my city is yours. I have no doubt you'll enjoy yourself!" The Lord dismissed Theon with a wave and a laugh, turning to the next supplicant. As Lord of White Harbor, Lord Manderly was constantly called upon to adjudicate matters of law, hence why the Merman's Court was open to the public.
As soon as he had exited the hall, however, one of the castle's servants joined the younger man, moving in the same direction. Around the bend in the corridor, the man leaned toward Theon, whispering quickly. "Lord Manderly will send a servant to your room this evening to get you. He has something he wishes to talk to you about without so many eyes around."
Theon nodded imperceptibly and moved on, shaking his head slightly at the way the Pufferfish, as Lord Stark called him, acted at times. That evening, he was promptly taken from his room (and a willing wench) and then escorted to Wyman's personal apartment.
Inside he found Wyman, his two eldest sons, Wendel and Wylis, and the servant who had brought him. "Come in, Theon." the fat lord said, no boisterousness in his manner, only seriousness. Gone was the smile, the gleam of humor in his eyes. In their place was a hard look and bright, searching eyes.
Theon did so, sitting across from the man at the table in the center of the room, a heavy thing of oak with massive feet. Wyman was so fat he couldn't even lift himself to sit upright, so he reclined on a specially made chair across from his guest, while his sons sat in normal chairs on either side. The man waited until Theon was sitting down, then began without any preamble. "Tell me what you know about this King Beyond the Wall, as well as what you boys really ran into on your jaunt up there. The truth, all of it. Lord Stark sent a letter, in cipher of all things, to me saying that there was more going on, far more than anything you wanted to report about, and I applaud that. But I need to know where the real threat is going to be coming from; to better lay my own response."
"Both sides, Sir." Theon answered promptly. "Something is happening down south, we're still not certain what, but whatever it is, it has to do with the Lannisters. That's all we know, though why, or even if there are factions among them or we don't know. It's almost certain some threats will come from that area. All of us at Winterfell are sure of that. We hope that Lord Stark and Ranma can stave it off for now but that's the real reason why Lord Stark didn't ask you, House Glover, House Flint of Flint's Finger, House Locke, House Dustin, or House Ryswell to send troops north. We might need them elsewhere."
This was actually something he and Jon had talked about the evening before he left. It was a rather cordial conversation between the two, one of very few they had had over the years but they had agreed about this point. Catelyn's presence had much to do with that, though Theon would never admit the wolf mother scared him these days whenever they talked about anything that could pose a danger to her children. They had decided that if he was asked, Theon was to share everything.
He didn't mention House Reed, which had little manpower to begin with and less to spare given the need to defend Moat Cailin, though mentioning House Dustin was rather beside the point as well. Oh, their minor Houses were still strong, but Dustin itself had only Lady Barbrey Dustin, who had refused for years to remarry or designate an heir. That stance had lost the House a lot of strength, though her relationship to Lord Ryswell meant the House was still considered a noble one. It would recover in time, but right now it simply wasn't worthy of consideration.
"In terms of the danger behind the Wall, that is a little harder to explain…" From there on Theon went into detail on the ambush the wolf-sworn had sprung, their injuries afterwards, and most particularly the giants they had met, which Jon had said couldn't possibly be real giants because they were too large, even for the frost giants of legend. The nature of that struggle brought all three Manderly's upright quickly, even the Lord pushing himself up with difficulty to stare at Theon.
After he stopped speaking, the trio was silent for a time before Wyman spoke. "That's quite a tale and I wouldn't believe it for an instant if you didn't have so many witnesses. Younger Hathan was silent about the battle, on orders from Ranma no doubt. Still, it tells me that I do need to prepare for both." He looked over at his two sons. "Start filling the armory and see to the defenses of the city. I want White Harbor as strong as we can make it. After that, give me a round number of men we could pull out and still retain a force strong enough to defend the harbor and the city itself. We might need to send that south."
"I would say that any such talk is premature." Theon hastened to interject. "I know for a fact that Ranma and Lord Stark will be looking for other solutions. They both think the danger on the other side of the Wall is much more important."
"Of course, of course" Wyman said nodding his head, "and I believe it too, but if these ghouls can get around the Wall somehow, then we must be prepared to fight them elsewhere just in case. As such, a quick reaction force might be necessary, certainly for our lands at the very least. I will send word to the Lockes, to the Woolfield, and to the Flints of Widow's Watch. The Flints sent up a party to the Wall along with House Karstark, so they might not have men to spare, but they can at least step up patrols of their lands.
Theon nodded and, knowing he was dismissed, moved off to the doorway. As soon as the door was closed, Wylis turned to his father with one eyebrow raised. "You didn't tell him about your plans with Lord Stark, father?"
"I haven't told anyone my plans with Lord Stark, yet." He smirked a little. "Ned might act the stiff-necked honorable man but that doesn't mean he's stupid. Ned's trusting us to provide him with an exit, if need be, so it behooves us to do the job properly, doesn't it?"
Both his sons nodded fervent agreement to that and they began to discuss captains they could use for this serious task.
OOOOOOO
The King's party passed through the city's outer wall using its main gate and were immediately inundated by waves of noise, made worse by being confined in the city by the high walls. The route through the city up to the Red Keep, which could be now seen slightly better without the intervening wall in the way, was lined with Gold Cloaks every few yards. These men, whose purpose was to provide order in the city, were now keeping the crowds back. Ranma rode next to his father, who rode next to Robert while Renly was on his other side. The carriage was directly behind him, while Loras was on Ranma's other side.
The Knight of Flowers waved grandly at the crowd, causing some of the smallfolk to cheer, most particularly the womenfolk. Most of the crowds, however, seemed rather indifferent to the return of their King. Most of the noise was simply the hustle and bustle of the city.
Ranma grimaced, the smell of the city seriously getting to him. At first, he thought that maybe it was his connection with Fenris. The direwolf was becoming more and more disturbed by the smell coupled with the noise but Ranma couldn't close his connection to Fenris as he needed it to control the direwolf, less he go berserk. That was the last thing they needed right now. Fenris growled, one side of his lip curling back, but understood his human didn't want him to attack any of these noisy two-legs. However, the noise from the two-legs coupled with the smell of this two-leg place was bothering him tremendously.
It was bothering Lady as well. However, she was still small enough to fit inside one of the carts and had done so. Choosing her target with care, Lady hid her nose among the ladies' laundry while the two carters laughed.
Truth be told, the smell was bothering Ranma just as much because it was a symptom of other things as well as being damn irritating. Before this, White Harbor was the only city that Ranma had been to in this world. It was clean, organized, and not nearly as crowded as this. Lord 'Pufferfish' controlled the city with an iron grip, and the shrewd man had firm ideas of sanitation, cleanliness, and organization; all of which helped in the defense of the city. It hadn't been so very long ago, after all, that the city had been under attack by pirates and no one in the North was liable to forget anything like that.
The North remembers, but it looks as if the Southerners never learned in the first place. He was broken out of his morose thoughts for a second as Loras reached over the space separating their horses to swat him in the arm. "Ranma, that face is not doing you any favors with the ladies. Smile, we're past the outer edge now and into the city proper."
Loras waved his hand, indicating the somewhat larger houses which were much better kept up, though not nearly as clean as similar houses in White Harbor. Then again, there wasn't any snow on the ground so maybe it was a trade-off. The crowds pushed to the side of the road were much better garbed as well and, whereas before the cheering had been sporadic, far more people here were cheering. It was a rather subdued kind of cheer but they were generally happy to see their King and his family returned out of the hinterlands safely. Ranma did notice one or two clumps of older people who, rather than cheering, stared at the men in Lannister colors with fearful eyes.
Ranma shook his head however. "You see the smiling ladies in the cheering, Ser Loras. I see the squalor, the stink, and the flaws." It made Ranma wonder if he could introduce the idea of sewers into Westeros. White Harbor didn't particularly need it, having already had rain channels on the roofs and roadsides constructed in such a way as to help with snow melt, and also strict waste disposal laws with truly draconian penalties, but this place desperately needed a sewage system. He continued to muse about that, wondering what kind of sewage system Westeros could make with its current technology (it wasn't as if Ranma was an expert after all) as the party continued toward the Red Keep.
The road meandered through the city up onto one of the hills that dominated its landscape. This one was the largest, dominated by a keep made of pale red stone. As they grew closer, Ranma could make out seven large towers at points along its outer wall, which, despite being in the center of the city, still had crenellations and buttresses for archers and were very businesslike.
Despite its martial appearance, Ranma was struck by the fact that it was actually more than a bit smaller than Winterfell. Probably more people lived here year round but he doubted that it was as self-sufficient as his home. An invading army would starve itself in the North before taking Winterfell by siege. That thought gave Ranma a sense of pride as they passed underneath the large bronze gates. Those were definitely for show but Ranma could see a second inner gate that wasn't. The bronze gates were probably replaced with steel and wooden doors in times of war, anyway.
They entered a large cobbled square, the edges of which were lined with servants and keep residents, which were bowing to the King as he came forward on his horse. Robert laughed, waving one hand grandly around them. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! Welcome to the Red Keep, Ned. I hope you and your lad enjoy it here more than I do, if truth be told!" Eddard nodded noncommittally, looking around at the servants and the keep.
After that, everyone became busy with unloading. The men-at-arms retrieved their items and went off to their various barracks. Ned sent his men ahead to the Tower of the Hand, which was a large tower set to the side of Maegor's Holdfast, the main fortress of the keep, itself surrounded by a moat and an outer wall. The Hand's tower contained a small barracks that Ser Jory and the men-at-arms from Winterfell would inhabit. There were other barracks in the Keep, one in the Holdfast, one in the White Guard Tower which was home to the Kingsguard, and a larger barracks set along the outer walls of the Keep. Going by the colors of the men arrayed in front of it, that one had been partially taken over by Lannister men.
Even here, the smell of the city still permeated enough to bother Ranma. Ranma quickly helped Tommen down from the horse and then grabbed Fenris by the scruff of his neck. With that firm grip in hand, he moved over towards the children as they exited the carriage, hearing Lady whine a little from her hiding place.
He smirked as he saw Sansa trying not to wrinkle her nose. "Dear sister," said Ranma grandly, "if I had known that the smell was what you wanted to experience most of all of civilization, I could have introduced you to a pigsty."
His sister glared at him but refrained from responding. The two of them had not been on the best of terms since Sansa had taken her fiancé's side over Fenris, since she had refused to apologize for it. They were polite and didn't ignore one another but the closeness that had characterized their relationship was gone now.
Cersei on the other hand merely smiled faintly. "It is the one aspect of the city that I loathe." she confided. "I normally have to put on twice as much perfume just to keep it away from my own sense." She deliberately tossed her head slightly so that the smell of her hair hit Ranma and he shook his head groaning internally as he backed up slightly.
She still tended to do little things to get a rise out of the young Stark, simply because she knew they did get to him somewhat, and she had enjoyed it as well as using her sexuality as a tool to try to control him. The latter might've failed but it was still fun, something the Queen didn't want to give up, strangely. "If you wish I can give you the street and name of the merchant who sells the perfume my daughter and I use."
Myrcella giggled a little at the thought, while Tommen, who had long been used to the smell, simply sniffed the air trying to decide if he liked being back home or not. Ranma simply agreed that it would be a good idea, then, with Sansa sticking to the royal ladies like glue, went over to retrieve Lady. The direwolf whined, but Ranma forcibly lifted the female direwolf in his arms, setting her down. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck before quickly doing the same to Fenris, who looked ready to bolt for the little bit of wood they could see in the Keep.
After that, Ranma's father called for him and Ranma moved over in that direction pulling both direwolves along. Eddard smiled at that, looking down at Fenris, who was looking a little wild-eyed, his teeth barred. "I assume the smell is getting to him?"
"The smell, the noise, and everything else is getting to them both, though I'm only bothered by the smell, father." Ranma answered shaking his head. "If this is civilization, they can keep it."
Eddard smiled slightly even as Ranma's thoughts idly went back to trying to figure out a way to lay down a sewer system. He knew in general terms how they worked but he had never actually seen a plan for them or paid close attention to those he had encountered.
"There is to be a formal ball this evening." Ned replied, shaking his head. "Find someplace where Fenris and Lady will be comfortable without you there holding onto them. We don't want any trouble from that quarter."
"Agreed, I'll lock them in my room for now. Fenris won't like it but he'll understand the necessity. The Queen told me of a place where I can buy some perfumes in the city. It might make the two uncomfortable but spraying a bit on their noses every day might keep the smell of the city from bothering them and, so long as I leave him here in the keep, the noise shouldn't irritate either one. Though, I might decide to just leave Fenris in the godswood.
Ned shook his head at his son's belief in his bonded wolf's intelligence but given the alternatives, Fenris would indeed understand somewhat. They could see the godswood from where they were walking, overlooking the river at the back of the keep. The godswood looked to be about four acres, with elms, alders and black cottonwood trees, quite unlike the woods at home which were pine, oak and other, tougher trees.
The river, the Blackwater Rush, was one of the rivers that ran through the Riverlands to give that land its name. The Blackwater's mouth, where it fed into Blackwater Bay, contributed to making Kings Landing a decent port.
"So long as you warn Fenris not to eat anyone he comes across, I don't see a problem with that. Hopefully the trees' smells will overwhelm the smell wafting up from the city." Ned said half seriously. He wondered idly how large Fenris would be once he stopped growing and had the disturbing premonition that he really didn't want to know. "I trust you can find something formal to wear?"
"Plate armor and cloak, got it." Ranma quipped and Ned shook his head with a faint smile which was his public way of laughing. The two of them continued on into the Tower of the Hand and up the stairs, past where their men were setting up in the barracks on the first floor.
The second floor was servants' quarters, which were admittedly much nicer quarters than the equivalent in Winterfell. Though the windows were a bit too large to be arrow slits and neither man liked seeing them only on the second story.
The third floor had what looked like a hall, much smaller than the one back in Winterfell. It was a private audience chamber, which was rather cozy, with heavy rugs and wall hangings with a single large round window letting in the sunlight to illuminate it. There were candles in the corners for when the sun set.
The next level was the workspaces, two desks for secretaries situated in one large area that dominated the floor, outside a single room with a closed door.
Ranma paused a moment, pointing at the door with his chin, since his hands were still occupied by the two direwolves. "I assume that's your new office?"
"I imagine so, yes," Ned replied dryly shaking his head. "One of the servants probably has the key. Ser Jory will ask around for us, but at the moment all I wish is to put my feet up and have some quiet time to myself."
"I can definitely understand that." Ranma said nodding his head, before he pulled at his shirt for a moment shaking his head with a chuckle. "I'll have to find some local clothing though, the heat down here is irritating." Ned nodded, watching his son head to the stairs leading further up before turning to look at the office door thoughtfully.
The younger Stark preceded his father up to the level where the private quarters of the Hand and his family began, with several large windows letting light into the various rooms. The stairs ending in a sitting area around which were several doors leading to private quarters. A smaller staircase continued to the next floor, presumably used for storage or guest rooms.
Ranma sat in one of the chairs, grunting in pleasure as its padding shifted under him. It was big, soft, and comfortable something, he had to admit, few chairs in Winterfell could boast. The people of the North had no time for such things really, although it was getting better thanks to his mother's and his own suggestions. Those soft chairs that were there were, of course, in the women's quarters, his sisters' and his mother's.
Ranma sat in silence for a moment, while Fenris rested his large head on his thigh. With Ranma having let her go, Lady had already moved into one room, where the servants had moved much of Sansa's clothing. Ranma shook his head at her almost lap-dog attitude, then leaned further back in the chair, closing his eyes as he thought.
This whole place gives me a very strange feeling. On the one hand, it reeks of decadence. I mean, we passed candle sticks on the way up here made from gold and those tapestries would be something Sansa would take three years to make, each. Plus the sheer number of servants, all of them better dressed than nearly any back in Winterfell. There's a certain sort of power, I suppose other people would call it majestic, yet the whole city and this keep in particular… Ranma shook his head. The city is diseased, there's no other way to put it. The smell, the disorganization, the number of people stuck here, it's a wonder there hasn't been a plague yet. It's only a matter of time though.
In fact, Kings Landing did have a very rudimentary sanitation system in the upper levels of the cities but the squatter towns that abutted the city along its outer walls; the poorer sections; and the sections devoted to anything that by their very nature smelled such as tanneries, blacksmiths, and the alchemists guild as well as the wharves, didn't. All the refuse simply went out to sea, making the harbor utterly disgusting. Even the River Blackwater was soiled as it passed through the city. This was just barely enough to stave off the plague Ranma was worried about, though he was correct in that it would be devastating if it ever occurred. The sheer number of rats and other vermin would see to that, as would the fact the humans ate the vermin in much of the city.
Ranma wasn't certain if he was just talking about the physical when he thought that Kings Landing was diseased. He decided to wait on deciding that until he met with the King's council. If they are as corrupt as Uncle Brynden thinks, then it fits well with everything else here.
As if conjured by that thought, Brynden himself walked up the stairs, shaking his head with a faint smirk on his face. "Vayon Poole, the steward your father brought along, has already taken over the keep and gotten rid of nearly all of the servants. They weren't very happy about that. Apparently, some have served here ever since the Rebellion, but he wanted none of it."
"My father's orders were rather explicit." Ranma replied with a smile, motioning the Blackfish to pull up one of the other comfy chairs. "He wanted to make certain this place was secure."
The older man did so, wallowing in hedonistic pleasure in the chair for a moment, before looking over shrewdly at his young charge. "I'm not going to be at the ball this evening. I wasn't invited but that's not the real reason. I could simply show up, after all, I am a belted knight and a nobleman, we can do these things. But I think my time would be better spent getting a feel for the city. I think it will aid us in knowing what the common folk here think, as well as the merchants and everyone else, about who are the powers behind the scenes. Did you notice that man who tried to get your father's attention after the King went off?"
Ranma shook his head and Brynden groaned. "Ranma, I realize that you're not used to playing politics but you need to be on your toes here. There are powers here that are not based on physical strength or honor. That was Petyr, the master of coin. The one I mentioned as being a childhood friend of your mother's?"
"You did, but you also said that times had changed and you weren't certain of his loyalties, something I agreed with. Has something happened to change your mind?"
"Not at all, I'm just wondering what he wants to say to your father. If he tries to get them alone, see if you can overhear the conversation. That way he won't have to be seen passing it on to me. There are also a few things that you can do to see what sort of people the King surrounds himself with…"
For an hour, the two talked about how to see if someone was trustworthy, already bought, or neutral in various ways, after which Brynden left Ranma there so the younger man could take a nap. If there was going to be a ball this evening, he wanted all his mental strength to get through it.
OOOOOOO
Joffrey was a very happy prince. They were finally home in the Red Keep, the place of power for his family and for him. Here, he had trusted servants who would do his bidding. Here, Joffrey knew his way around. And most importantly, here, he was finally free of spending every day with Ranma watching as Ranma came closer to Tommen while Tommen came closer to their father.
Now with the families separated, the King's family ensconced once more in Maegor's Holdfast, he could take action against his younger brother and he grinned evilly as he decided how to do just that. First, however, he sent for one of the servants that had been given to him by his mother, a trusted Lannister man who answered only to him. The man had been trained in Casterly Rock not to ask questions and to obey any order given.
Later that day, as Joffrey was preparing for the ball with the help of a few servants, the man came to his quarters. He was small nondescript sort, who could blend into any crowd, something that had proven useful more than once with both his current and past masters. Joffrey smiled at him, turning away from the servant who had held up one of his finest silk shirts. "You, I have a job for you…"
After the man left, Joffrey turned back to the business of selecting an outfit to show his status properly. The gold embroidered shirt would be especially good, coupled with the red pants, he would look like a proper Lannister, while the overcoat in brown and green would give him a Baratheon flare. Now what to select as the proper accessories...
OOOOOOO
Myrcella was busy showing Sansa her room when Cersei came in. "There is a formal ball this evening to welcome the King and ourselves home. I trust that you will both prepare accordingly, ladies? I will be checking."
Sansa and Myrcella grinned at one another then nodded eagerly. The Queen smiled faintly at the two of them, then looked at Sansa. "Take note of southern styles when you are going through your clothing with Myrcella. I hope to see what you can come up with soon."
Sansa curtsied to Cersei and answered in an affirmative fashion that brought another small smile to her face, which faded the moment she left the room and saw Jamie standing at guard along with Sir Oakheart and Ser Mandon Moore. She didn't like Moore. The man was utterly unreadable, silent and brooding, and always staring with cold, dead eyes. She knew Jaime didn't like him much either, though he did say that the man was somewhat skilled with the sword.
Jaime followed her and the Queen frowned before smiling at him leading the way further into the Queen's quarters, saying loudly to be overheard, "Jaime, if you have time, could I give you a list of things to buy in the city? I haven't yet gone over everything…" At that point, she closed the door.
Strangely enough, she hadn't felt the need to signal her brother for one of their trysts in several weeks. Not only because of the travel time being much more dangerous, but because flirting with Ranma had been strangely satisfying on its own, now that she came to think about it. Nevertheless, Cersei didn't reject him when Jaime pulled her body back into his own with a hand around her waist. It always felt like coming home when they made love and today was no different.
Though just this once Cersei had to fight with herself to stop picturing Ranma in Jaime's place. She knew that would be impossible. There was not a hint that Ranma would go for even a fling with no strings attached and, without the need to control him, there was no need to offer such. Still, it was an odd thought and it returned as Jamie left thirty minutes later, leaving her to take a small nap before the evening festivities.
OOOOOOO
The ball occurred that evening in the Great Hall, a massive hall that was also the throne room. It was large enough for a thousand men, although tonight it only had seating for half that: courtiers, knights, and ladies of high standing from the Crownlands; there to drink to the King's return. The tables had been set up along the walls, which were covered with hunting tapestries, to leave the center free for dancing. Ranma knew that during the Targaryen reign they had been lined with the fossilized heads of dragons, which had probably added further to the presence that the Iron Throne lent the room.
Even sitting as it did behind the King's table, the Iron Throne's presence could not be ignored. It was made of a thousand melted swords, taken from the dead that had tried to fight against the Targaryens when they conquered most of Westeros, all save Dorne and the North. The North bent the knee, while Dorne was able to keep its freedom during that initial time, bending the knee only later after a bloody war and a marriage which connected their ruling line to the Targaryen.
The throne was a thing of points, jagged edges, and bare metal, with a pile of swords through which a few steps were built up to a large, very basic seat at the top. There was only a small cushion on it, since the throne was not made to be comfortable. Every jagged edge was sharp, ready to prick, cut, or even skewer the unwary. Every King had sat there, not a one at their ease, as it was designed so by Aegon the First. There were persistent rumors throughout the lands that it had even killed a few people over the years.
Ranma stared at the thing for a moment as he and his father entered, dressed in dark leather pants and jerkins dyed Winterfell black and gray, under which they wore short-sleeved cotton shirts. Their cloaks were lined with wolves' fur and clasped on one shoulder with pins shaped like a direwolf's head, with Ranma's holding a small sapphire for an eye while Ned's held an equally small diamond. Unlike the well cared for and coifed hair that was the norm for men here, Ned's hair was shaggy and unkempt, as was his short beard. While Ranma's face bore no beard, his hair was tied in the Dothraki fashion as, normal.
With their dark clothing, hairstyles, and northern, weathered looks they stood out like stones in a field of flowers but neither cared. Nor did the two men-at-arms, who were also knights, who were watching Ned's back even here. Their clothing was much the same as the Starks', though more worn and without the cloaks.
Ser Jory and the other man followed Ranma's father as he moved over to the King's table, clasping his friend's hand warmly before sitting down at Robert's right side, Cersei sitting on Robert's left.
Ranma tried to move over towards the children's end of the table, causing much twittering and laughter as he deliberately made it look as if he was trying to sneak along. A harrumph from his father called him sharply to task. He sighed and moved over to him. Still, the moment of levity was what Ranma had been searching for and he watched carefully who smiled and how, as he and Brynden had talked about earlier. The answer, alas, did not give him much information, since he couldn't tell if any one person of the people not smiling was looking around to take their cue from anyone else. Should've known that wouldn't work. Ah well.
He sat next to his father and the feast began moments later. The man on his other side turned to him, introducing himself. He was a short, slender man, with sharp yet handsome features punctuated by a small pointed beard. "Petyr Baelish, master of coin at your service. So, you would be the lovely Catelyn's firstborn? Surprising, that only your eyes would tell of it. Most especially seeing as your younger sister looks so much like Catelyn did in her youth."
Ranma shrugged. "We do have a bit of a mix among us children. Sansa is my mother to the light, almost, while I take after my father save for my eyes as you pointed out, ser. Arya is pure Stark in appearance, even more than I. Brandon and Rickon are more of a mix of the two. Rickon has mother's eyes and face and father's hair, and Brandon has her hair and eyes but father's face."
"I understand you have a half-brother, a bastard-born that you were raised with? That must've been trying on Cat. In fact, I can't imagine her putting up with it at all."
Ranma was immediately on his guard, knowing that any question about Jon was one he had to tread lightly around. "I think that she got over it. I believe that Jon's devotion to both me and my siblings was a definite mark in his favor, as were the many times he kept me out of trouble in my youth." He swiftly changed the subject to one such example and moved on to asking questions about the man's own youth and his duties as master of coin, while studying him intensely.
Petyr came off as affable, intelligent, and poised but the real story was his eyes, which sometimes flitted around the room, searching and assessing. His hands, too, were similarly very mobile as he spoke, playing with a small coin or stilling very briefly as his eyes caught something. Whatever his loyalties, Petyr seemed dangerously bright as well as observant. Ranma vowed to watch his words very carefully around this man.
For his part, Petyr was watching both Starks intensely. He was a little surprised by Ranma's apparent sense of humor and outgoing nature but not overmuch, since he had been briefed by his agents among the servants the King had taken north with him. The boy was a simpleton, unknowing of the cesspool he was entering.
On the other hand, the fact that Brynden was here and he was already down in the city apparently talking to old acquaintances was troubling. Petyr knew the Blackfish of old and he was one of the most perceptive men he had ever met.
So too was the fact that thirty men-at-arms and five belted knights sworn to House Tully had arrived weeks ago. They had shown no sign of leaving the city, despite there not being any reason for them to be here at all. The most one of his factors in the city could get out of one of them was that they were here to meet their Lord's kinsman, which was a surprise and an irritating move.
He hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet with his ally Varys to hear what had occurred in the North and, like Varys, Petyr's own spies were very thinly spread in that area with most of them in the small trading post on the southern side of the Neck and in White Harbor. His main contact had been Roose Bolton but his death over a decade ago had silenced that avenue.
Unbeknownst to any, above and beyond personal self-interest, Petyr was also motivated by hatred for all things Stark. He had hated the Starks ever since Brandon had beaten him in a dual for Catelyn's hand. His hatred had solidified further when Lady Catelyn didn't return his affections, not even responding to the one letter he sent her after Brandon's death, hoping that she would consent to marry him now that Brandon was no longer in the way. At the time, Petyr hadn't had much influence but he felt certain that if Catelyn had tried to get out of marrying Brandon's younger brother Ned, she could have.
Instead, she chose to honor the deal made between the Tullys and the Starks but Petyr refused to think that she was happy in such a cold place with such a cold man. Hearing of her children made him ache inside and his hate for all things Stark renewed with each passing word. It should have been me who she married, my children she should have given birth to, not wolf pups! Though young Sansa, she truly is the image of Cat when she was younger… Neither this nor his burning hatred for all things Stark showed on his face, however.
Their discussion went on for over an hour, neither telling the other anything important while the meal went on. Soon the King signaled the servants, who began to play some music for dancing. Ranma stood up quickly at that and Petyr moved with him, leaning in closely so that his voice was covered by the cacophony of the crowd and the musicians. "There is something you must know, something that Jon Arryn was searching for. There is a particular book in his library that he was looking at."
This hint would not do what he wished since Ranma was already prepared to distrust him. He had gotten the full tale of what had happened between Brandon and Petyr in their youth from Brynden and Ned. Moreover, the questions about his family and the one or two about Jon had put him on his guard further. There was also just something about Petyr's constantly probing eyes that set his hackles on end and he resolved to keep him at arms-length. "I will pass that on to my father. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Petyr was left there as Ranma moved over to Myrcella, bowing grandly to the young girl and holding out his hand. "May I have this dance, fair lady?" Myrcella blushed rosily, looking over wildly at Sansa and then her mother, who nodded her head imperceptibly. If there was one man in this entire room that she could trust not to get familiar with her daughter, outside Jaime, Robert, or Sir Oakheart, it was Ranma. Robert laughed as Ranma took Myrcella on a wild spin around the Great Hall, forcing out a whoop of glee as they sped out onto the dance floor between the tables, smirking at Sansa who was dancing with Joffrey much more sedately.
After one such dance, Ranma came back and showed Tommen how to dance with his older sister, then stood on the sidelines laughing as he watched the two move around the floor. Around him, the courtiers smiled and chuckled in a rather forced manner. Despite this, Ranma was watching Petyr and Varys out of the corner of his eyes. He was also watching the Queen and a few courtiers who looked particularly arrogant.
As Ranma spent time with the two younger two Royal children, Varys stood in the background near the Queen. He was still wondering what game the queen was playing, though he had long since come to the conclusion that the Baratheon regime was not in the best interests of the kingdom as a whole, hence why he had agreed to aid Petyr in some of his ambitions. They would weaken the kingdom in the short term, but allow a stronger family, a better royal line to take the throne. With his aid in securing the throne, something he would be well paid for, of course.
Robert had also taken to the floor, dancing some kind of raucous jig with a fat priest dressed in red, laughing all the while. The King was loud and boisterous, seemingly filling the hall with his personality, yet for some reason Ranma felt he didn't quite fit here.
The Queen however was much more at home, as was Renly. The younger Baratheon brother was in one corner surrounded by courtiers as well as several ladies, both married and not, who were laughing at something he had said, while Ser Loras danced with some lady or another from the Crownlands. Cersei was holding forth elsewhere with her brother nearby, though what she was saying Ranma couldn't tell. There were more people around her than either of the Baratheon brothers, all of whom were listening intently, man and woman.
This was a warning that Ranma had to take to heart. They had arrived on her playing field and were now away from his. He could no longer react to verbal threats as he normally would without risking making more enemies for his family than they already had. He would have to be constrained by the local rules, at least for a time.
Ranma danced with many ladies that evening, all of whom became somewhat attracted to the young man whose handsome features were dominated by the deepest blue eyes any of them had seen and who moved like a trained dancer on the floor. Many of them tried to convince him to follow them out of the hall to a dark corner or a patch of the lawn away from all the noise. All these attempts failed and Ranma kept dancing on and off, always making time for Myrcella. He danced with his sister just once, though their dancing was stilted and distant, much like their conversations these days. Unbeknownst to Ranma, his continued dancing with the Princess only served to solidify her crush on him.
The Stark heir had his mind on other things nor was he the type to enjoy casual dalliances. Besides, Ranma thought sardonically as he once again rebuffed an offer to escort a lady back to her chambers with simple excuse of having to stay and watch his sister, something that made the ladies all pout outrageously despite their varied ages, yet in reluctant agreement. After sleeping with the she-bear, I might break some of these southern waifs accidentally. Many things could be said about Dacey but fragile and docile were not among them and their lovemaking always tended to be rather intense in nature, at least in part.
Despite his self-control, Ranma was feeling the lack of companionship, especially with Cersei's flirtations on the trip here but he wasn't about to have a one night stand would with anyone in this city, not even the whores. I like sleeping with someone who I don't have to watch my back or words with, thank you.
"I understand, Ranma Stark, that you wish to journey to the perfumers Street?"
Ranma turned and nodded his head at Renly. Renly had snuck up on him somewhat, but there's didn't seem to be any evil intent in it, especially considering how confused his hearing was from the crowds. "I do indeed, Lord. The smell of the city is rather overpowering and even in here, it is faint but still discernible. I'm also afraid that the smell will eat away at Fenris's self-control, even here in the keep, which would not be good." A mild understatement, considering Fenris had begun to exhibit some measure of ki-enhanced strength.
"In that case, you may travel down into the city with Loras and me tomorrow. The batch of perfume he brought from home is giving out."
Ranma nodded his head, then looked over to where his father was signaling him. After making his excuses to Renly, Ranma moved in that direction. Once his son was standing in front of him, Eddard said quietly. "It is time we made our apologies and withdrew. I was given the key to Jon's study by Petyr and I want to see what is in there."
Internally, Ranma cursed. He had been on the lookout most of the night but it appeared that Petyr and his father had talked without him being in a position to overhear. The man was good at sneaking around, something Ranma would have to bear in mind. "I'm all for leaving father but remember what Brynden said, we can't trust anyone here. When we get there, let me open the door just in case there's a spring trap or something."
"I'm not as old or feeble as all that," Ned responded dryly, but he nodded nonetheless and clapped his son on the shoulder. The two of them escorted Sansa to her quarters, the younger girl being somewhat tipsy and unable to coherently argue against leaving the party so soon. The good food, the wine, and the atmosphere had all been exactly as she had dreamed it would be, aided by the fact that she was allowed to drink without adult supervision nearby for the first time. Dancing with Joffrey, the elegant Renly, the handsome Loras, and several others had been utterly divine and every time she turned around a servant had been there holding a tray of drinks.
Ned put his daughter to bed motioning Jeyne forward from where she sat on her own bed to help Sansa undress. He smirked as Lady took one sniff of her mistress' breathe and whined, moving away slightly. "Take care of her, Jeyne, Sansa seems to have had a bit too much to drink. I'll inform the staff to have a hangover cure ready, just in case." Jeyne nodded, a little miffed her father had forced her to stay in the Tower that evening.
Eddard nodded back then exited Sansa's room, heading down with Ranma, who had opened the door to his room to let out Fenris. With the direwolf following them, Ned and Ranma made their way down to the locked door of the Hand's office. Despite Ranma's concern, there was no sudden trap to assault them when they opened the door, and Ranma and his father entered the study looking around.
The room was very well organized. It had scrolls and a few books of law, taxes, and other things on one side with a smaller group of books in a single shelf embedded into the opposite wall for pleasure reading. There were a few comfortable looking chairs, one of which was set by the window with a small table next to it, a book set there already. Two more chairs were set against the wall by the smaller bookcase with a small table between them, with what looked like a snuff box. In the center of the room was a desk, with two not very comfortable looking chairs in front of it and a much more comfortable looking chair on the other side facing the doorway, but this was clearly a business area, unlike the small sitting areas by the window or the book case.
Ranma moved around, lighting the candles in the corners, which gave the room an even homier feel.
"Just as I last saw it. Jon Arryn was more of a homebody than he would have liked people to think, very much enjoying any chance to mix leisure with business." Eddard murmured, moving in to the center of the room looking around with a faint smile. Fenris passed him, moving toward the back of the room.
There were a few scrolls open on the desk and Eddard advanced to look at them. He then spoke aloud to Ranma, while Ranma moved around, studying the law books on the wall. "This one is about a new taxation proposed on the ports, raising docking and unloading fees in every port of Westeros. It's been signed and ratified, though Jon seems to be wondering about the wording of certain parts, given some of the notes in the margins. Interesting but not very important. Another bit of business, a note from someone in the city named Alayaya? Sounds like a Summer Island name. About another brothel near her mother's changing hands to Petyr…"
The two Starks shared a glance, shaking their heads irritably. They knew the necessity of such places but the fact that there were dozens in Kings Landing was rather disgusting to them. Most especially, since they both knew that the madams of this city probably did not take nearly as good a care of their 'tags' as they should nor were they picky about their ages, something that in the North was anathema. Children of both genders should not be treated so and in the North, if a madam or brothel owner employed a 'tag' younger than thirteen, they would be either jailed, sent naked out into the wilds. Or, if male, sent to the Wall.
"Hmm, nothing else interesting, though there is a message about wanting to talk to a few merchant contacts to get their impression of the Crownlands economy. He also wanted to look into the balance of trade with Essos, specifically the cities of Braavos and Pentos. The bit about Braavos seems to be much older than the Pentos addition, since the ink looks very faded. Nothing of interest at present." With that Eddard moved on, while Ranma crouched down to look at the desk from underneath, searching for anything hidden or odd little sections.
Ned had moved to the small reading area underneath the window. He reached forward for the small book that was sitting on the desk there but Fenris quickly got between the older man and the desk, growling. "Ranma," Ned said, slowly backing away from the wolf who probably weighed more than he did now, "your wolf is growling at me."
Ranma closed his eyes even as he came out from underneath the desk, reaching into his connection with Fenris. Fenris tried to share what he smelled that had his hackles on end, but Ranma couldn't make head or tails out of his sense of smell. There were just so many nuances of smell that the human brain just could not handle. Fenris and Ranma worked together for a moment, and finally Ranma was able to get, Danger, bad, no eat, from his wolf. "Something about the book bothers him father, hold on a second."
Ranma stood up swiftly, moving to the nearest candle, taking it, and then leaning over the book. He frowned, seeing a thin coat of something. "There is something smeared on this, some kind of oily stuff."
"Poison." Ned nodded grimly. "I've heard of poisons that can be administered by touch. Well that proves it, someone did kill Jon Arryn. Wait here a moment." He left, coming back quickly with a thin pair of female riding gloves, pulled taut over his much larger hands. With these on, he turned the book over to look at the cover. "'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms', by Maester Malleon? Why would this be important?"
"I don't know, father, but that book is evidence. We need to put it someplace safe, after we somehow clean it of poison."
Ned nodded, fighting with himself the desire to read the book right then. After all, they didn't know how deadly the poison was and he wasn't about to take the chance. "I will find a place to hide it, but you're right, it is a very important piece of evidence."
"Should we go to the King with this? Poison on the book means Jon was killed. It could be part of a larger attack on the King or country." Ranma asked.
After a moment, Ned shook his head. "No. There is little chance of this being part of a foreign plot or anything of that nature. None of the Free Cities have the strength to take Westeros on unless they unite, which even we would have heard about up in the North. Nor do I think this was the start of an internal attack on the King. If it was, they would have moved against Robert immediately after Jon's death, when he was weakest. Or even somewhere on the road to and from Winterfell."
"No, this is simply a deadlier version of court politics. We have no idea who did this and, until we do, we cannot make accusations or in any other way tip our hand. It could be the people who would normally take over the investigation into such a death. We were warned by Brynden not to trust anyone and what I've seen so far proves we shouldn't trust Janos Slynt or Varys, the two people who are the most likely to take over the enquiry."
Ranma nodded approvingly and the two left the room. Ned headed to his own room intent on hiding the book then removing his gloves, only one of which had touched the book, before disposing of them down the tower's garderobe. Ranma, however, exited the tower and headed to the godswood. Fenris eagerly bounded down the stairs behind him, interested in what they would find in the woods here that were small and edible.
Almost immediately, Ranma realized the godswood here was much more controlled and trimmed than any real godswood should be. The godswood at home was made of densely grown oak, pine, and other trees, with leaves on the ground everywhere there wasn't snow, the air smelling of pine, loam, and snow. Here, the trees were spread out, with actual paved paths on the outskirts of the wood. Deeper in it was slightly better, thankfully, and it looked as if the touch of man tapered off.
He found the heartwood in the center of the woods. It was an oak tree rather than a weirwood tree, which struck him as really odd, but this was the first godswood he had been able to stop at since that time he found one in the Neck after rescuing Meera. He had hoped to stop at the Isle of Faces but they hadn't actually come close enough for him to head there and back in a day. At the moment, Ranma simply wanted to take a moment to reflect.
He was soon joined by his father, who sat down in the loam beside him, sitting there silently contemplating the face on the heartwood. It was a moment of silence, or familial understanding, far from home. A moment of peace to give them strength in this new, strange world. After a few moments, Ned left to send a message to Winterfell, telling his beloved wife and family they had arrived safely, as well as take care of a few other items, leaving Ranma there alone with his thoughts
OOOOOOO
Tommen had spent the evening with Myrcella having a sleepover in her room. He woke up in a giddy mood, hoping to run over to where Ranma was to find him and see if he would be willing to continue their training even if they had arrived in Kings Landing. He didn't want to ask Ser Aron Santagar, the master-of-arms of the keep, because the man didn't have much time or patience for children. He didn't even like training Joffrey and only trained Tommen when Robert insisted.
Leaving Myrcella still sleeping in her bed, he left her room to head back over to his own. Tommen opened the door to his room and moved inside, frowning as he noticed that the cage which had held his pet song bird was empty. It had been a gift from a courtier, in hopes of currying favor with his mother. It hadn't worked as well as the man thought but it had still been a nice present and Tommen liked animals. He had a pet kitten at one point but it had wandered off when he was young and never returned.
He looked inside the cage and his frowned deepened at all the blood all around it. Someone had killed it or maybe a cat had gotten in? But then how had the cat gotten through the bars? He looked around, still frowning, at which point he spotted it on his bed, deliberately tucked between the covers and the pillow. The bird's feathers had been plucked and its body opened from beak to naval, letting out all its intestines.
Tommen's teeth clenched on the need to scream but this wasn't a scream of terror or, at least, not entirely. It was a scream of rage that Tommen pushed back down. He shook his head angrily, wondering who had done this, but then moved over to the bin he used for his soiled clothing, pulling out a shirt he had worn on the trip to exercise in. With it, he calmly wrapped the bird up, moving out of the door to the dispose of it elsewhere. I won't give whoever did this the satisfaction of seeing me cry but I won't forget, either!
His father was just coming out of his room, all ready to head out on the hunt, but stopped when he saw his youngest holding something, something which was staining the shirt containing it red. "What do you have there, boy?" Robert frowned, hoping that his youngest son wasn't following his oldest brother's footsteps.
"Someone killed my songbird, father."
The anger in the boy's voice calmed Robert's initial worries. "Oh, what do you intend to do about it then?" This was yet another way that Robert was feeling out his youngest, wanting to make certain that the changes that Ranma had wrought in the boy were real changes rather than momentary ones based off his wanting approval or attention.
"I'm going to try and find out who, father, and then, then I'm going to make them pay." Tommen growled.
Robert guffawed, clapping the youth on his shoulders staggering the little boy almost off his feet despite having held back. "That's my boy. Toss it out for now, you can hunt for clues later. Let's go get some breakfast, then I think we should see if we can rustle up enough men to go hunting, after I give the small council its marching orders, of course!"
Tommen gaped up at him. This was the first time Robert had invited any of his children on a hunt with him! The young boy nodded rapidly, then raced off to get rid of hi