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He didn't have to wait long for the rebuttal that he knew was coming. "Forgive me, father, but I think I might've misheard what you just said."
"No, you didn't. You heard me correctly. The Starks have a sorcerer serving under their banner. A sorcerer that I intend to coax to serve House Lannister."
Tyrion merely shook his head. "I didn't think you were one for tales of grumpkins and snarks, father."
"I am not. But I believe what I see with my own eyes." Leaning forward, he made sure he had Tyrion's undivided attention before continuing. "I watched as a blind man killed four of Ser Armory Lorch's men with his bare hands. I watched as after the last man fell, Ser Lorch was crushed to death in his armor by an invisible force before being beheaded by a blade made of fire. I watched as that same man summoned lightning and thunder from his hands powerful enough to fell the walls of the Pyke with a single strike. And I witnessed that same man made his way unscathed through the Pyke, killing all in his path, capture the Greyjoys, and then bring them bound and broken before the King."
Pausing for a moment, he let his words sink in before continuing. "And if his power wasn't enough, he is intelligent. And politically knowledgeable to give even myself a challenge. He managed to arrange events within moments of stepping off the boat so that he could brutally kill five Westerland men right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do and no legal way to seek retribution. And he also, without having ever met nor fought against the Ironborn, deciphered a plot they had hatched simply by looking at a map and tracking their movements. A trap he in turn decimated with the aid of Lord Stark, earning the favor of the King. And he also has the look of one borne of Valyria, yet he claims not to hail from those cursed lands. Nor does he claim any kinship with the surviving Targaryens. A tale that the King, Stark, Stannis, and I are willing to accept. Now, do I need to explain to you further why this man needs to be securely under our control?"
"…No, father," Tyrion replied after sitting in stunned silence. "Should we instruct the girl that will be sent to Winterfell to seduce him? She is quite good. She can do this thing with her tongue where she licks the underside of your coc—"
"I do not need to hear tales of your debauchery and shaming of our noble House." Tywin cut in harshly. "And no. The whores will not seek the sorcerer out unless he comes to them first. We are working with a very limited amount of information at the moment. And as such, we do not know the full extent of his powers. Until we know more, they will not seek him out. Is that clear?"
"Yes, father," Tyrion nodded before rising to his feet and collecting the tax reports. "If that will be all, father, I will send the girls on their way and begin work on this."
"Good, now go," Tywin responded, waving Tyrion away. "And send for the Maester Creylen. I have need of him."
"As you wish, father," Tyrion bowed awkwardly before shuffling out of the room, scrolls tucked firmly under his arm.
'He performed far better with the task than I thought,' Tywin thought as he sat and waited for the Maester of Casterly Rock. 'But that still does not mean anything yet. I know there are three discrepancies in the tax reports I gave him. We will see if he truly is clever enough to spot them or not. And if he has the ability to do what is necessary to make sure our bannermen do not believe they can keep our due from us.'
Soon after Tyrion left, Tywin heard a light knocking on his solar door. "My lord, you sent for me?" Maester Creylen called out, shuffling his old frame into the solar.
'I need to request a new Maester from the Citadel. Creylen has served House Lannister since my father's tenure, which is reason enough to get rid of him.' Tywin thought as he watched the elderly man slowly make his way towards him. 'But more so, a lame Maester who can barely do his duties is of no use to me.'
"Yes, I did, Maester," Tywin nodded. "Tell me. You have your link in animal husbandry, do you not?"
Creylen blinked and nodded. "Yes, I have my lord. Why do you ask?"
"Tell me," Tywin said, leaning forward on his elbows once more. "From what region would I have to enquire in order to procure a bantha?"
Making his way into the meeting hall within the uppermost level of the Citadel, Archmaester Ebrose took stock of the Maester that were seated around the table within the small hall. These five men, along with himself made up less than half of the Archmaesters currently in the Citadel, but to Ebrose, they were the most important. For each Archmaester present was responsible for leading their own sect within the Order, quietly known as the Guiding Hand, the true Maesters. The men responsible for guiding the land of Westeros into a new age of enlightenment and peace. A goal that had been nearly obtained. Until recently.
Taking his seat, Ebrose met the eye of each of his fellow Archmaesters one at a time before setting on Ryam. "Archmaester Ryam, do you have word from the Iron Islands?"
"Yes," Ryam replied, looking more than slightly uncomfortable. "Both the good and the bad. The Ironborn are defeated. And unfortunately, the Maester assigned to the Pyke was killed during the assault."
"Good riddance," Archmaster Castos cut in dismissively. "The Maester we sent there was the very definition of incompetence. That was why he was sent to the Iron Islands in the first place."
"Yes, but with his death we are now forced to fill his vacant position," Archmaester Agrivane stated. "In times past, the Islands may have served as a decent location to drop the less desirable of our order. However, with the King's new proclamation and…Stark raising the future heir of the Iron Islands, perhaps it is time we rethink that mentality. Perhaps a new initiate in the Guiding Hand should be sent instead of just the dregs of the Maester Order?"
"I agree with Archmaester Agrivance," Archmaester Benedict said. "Despite where the children of the kraken are being raised, we may not have a better chance of bringing enlightenment to the Iron Islands. Such a situation needs to be handled delicately."
"The status of the Maester within Pyke is not why you called this meeting, Archmaester Ebrose," Archmaester Sandhu cut in with an impatient glare. "It was because of the tales of this so-called 'Northern Sorcerer'. Well, Ryam, have your sources been able to disprove this man's supposed abilities?"
Ryam's face scrunched as he shook his head. "No, they have not. In fact, they have done the exact opposite. I've received word from over a dozen sources, all with unknown ties to our order, and they have all told the exact same tale. The Starks truly have gained the loyalty of a sorcerer. And a powerful one at that."
That was the last thing Ebrose, or indeed any of the Archmaesters present, wanted to hear. He was sure that Marwyn 'the mage' would be overjoyed to hear of such powers still existence. But such powers went against everything the Order of the Guiding Hand stood for. Their predecessors had been working to unify the lands of Westeros into a new age of order since before the Doom of Valyria. And after the Targaryens managed to unite the lands, the Order changed their objective. The Targaryens had been useful to unite the lands, but they did so by using dragons and magic. Things that were not in the vision of the future the Order wanted. Despite their misgivings with it, the Maesters, including the Order of the Guiding Hand, didn't hate magic. Not like the Faith did. No, to them, magic represented what they were fighting against. For magic in is basic form was chaos. Pure unadulterated, uncontrollable chaos. And that was not something that was needed nor wanted in their visions for the future.
It'd taken years, centuries in fact, but eventually they managed to cripple the dragons through forced encampment in the dragonpit and with the usage of poisons. And once the Targaryens lost the last of their dragons, it wasn't long before the madness that plagued the family took hold and they were ousted from their position. A madness that was easily avoidable if only the fools didn't interbreed so much.
The inbreeding of the Targaryens to madness had been one of the more successful endeavors of the Order, almost on par with the ending of the dragons. Through very selective removal of books, the Order managed to paint the illusion that the reasons why the Targaryens couldn't hatch their dragons was because of impure blood, which wasn't the case at all. Incest, according to a few of the more well secured tomes in the Citadel, was relatively rare in the land of Valyria. And was only done to keep the noble lines free from commoner blood. Much like the practice here in Westeros. But the Targaryens bought the lie and began to attempt to 'purify' their bloodline by breeding exclusively within family, which brought instability into their line. The perfect slow death. The only pity was that it took so long for the nobles and smallfolk of Westeros to grow tired of the dragons' madness enough to revolt. And even then, the revolt only truly took place because of the carefully whispered words of Grandmaester Pycelle into the ear of the Mad King about who to choose as House Targaryen's champion during Lord Stark's trial by combat.
And now, after centuries, the Order of the Guiding Hand were finally free of the Targaryens and their magic and dragons with a new king that was easy to lead around. All they had to do was dangle a jug of wine or provide him with a whore, and he would do whatever they wanted. But now, now their endgame was threatened by the untimely arrival of this…sorcerer. And in the worst possible location as well.
Had he made himself known in the South, the Faith of the Seven would've taken care of him for them. Their hatred of magic was well known to all. But instead, he arrived in the land of the First Men, the land unconquered by the Andals. The only worse scenario would've been if he'd arrived in Dorne and encouraged the Martells to rise against the Baratheons in revenge for the death of Elia and her children.
"And what has been the King's response according to Pycelle?" Ebrose asked, looking towards Agrivane, who served as Pycelle's primary contact within the Order of the Guiding Hand. "
"Mixed," Agrivane informed them. "While he's impressed with what the man managed to accomplish and is in slight awe over his abilities, the fact that the man looks like he is a descendent of the dragon lords has made the king wary of the sorcerer. Not as much as we wanted, but he is still wary."
"Inform Pycelle that he is to try and encourage these fears," Ebrose commanded. "If he can plant the idea that the sorcerer is poisoning the mind of his dear friend and brother, Eddard Stark, against him and his throne, the king might take care of our problem for us."
"I will see it done," Agrivane nodded.
"But that will take time. Time we do not have, not when we are so close!" Sandhu nearly shouted, his anger at having their plans foiled at such late stage clear.
"Patience, Sandhu," Ebrose said, trying to placate the man. "Our Order has been working for centuries on our designs. We managed to help unify the lands, gotten rid of the dragons, and helped to oust the Targaryens. By comparison, this sorcerer is but a slight hiccup in our plans. One that can be removed easily if we are to be a little bit more patient."
"Perhaps then, we should begin the next phase of the 'plan'," Castos suggested, drawing attention back to himself. "It is far past time for the next part to come to fruition. And if we play it correctly, then we might be able to tie the removal of this sorcerer in with the next phase."
"And it will also give us the time to bleed some more information from him as well," Benedict nodded, earning some curious stares from his companions. "According to a very cryptic raven sent to use by Maester Luwin, apparently the sorcerer has a wealth of knowledge beyond just the mystic arts. He could provide us with some advancements that can be tested out in the North, away from the civilized world. And then possibly integrated if they are proven to work."
Ebrose nodded. "See to it that it is done. Archmaester Castos, as it was your idea to tie the sorcerer into the next phase, I want to see your altered version on how to do that within the next month."
"Of course," Castos nodded. "Such an alteration to the plan might delay it by a few years as it will require a very specific set of circumstances as well as the careful positioning of a few key players. But I feel that it will be doable."
"It would be easier if we had one loyal to the Guiding Hand in Winterfell." Ryam lamented. Before his untimely death, Maester Walys had also been a loyal member of the Order during his time in Winterfell. Maester Luwin unfortunately took his vows to the castle of Winterfell too seriously, which was why he was not inducted into the Order of the Guiding Hand.
"It would make things easier." Ebrose nodded. "Removing a Maester of Luwin's age does not have precedence. But from what I know of the man, Luwin will not accept being removed unless Lord Stark specifically orders him out, which is unlikely. Or he dies. Another scenario unlikely to happen, and I will not authorize the removal of such a capable member of our order. So, no, while it will be cumbersome, we will deal with the situation at hand as is. Gentlemen, we have our work cut out of us. Let us begin."
Standing on the balcony attached to her room high within the keep of Highgarden, Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns and unofficial ruler of the Reach, watched absentmindedly as the residents of Highgarden mulled about the castle grounds below her as they worked to return to their normal lives after returning from one of the shortest wars in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. 'The idiot pirates actually thought they could slap the lions in the face and say piss off to the 'Demon of the Trident'? Fools, all of them. But useful fools as their war has given the Reach the chance to confirm our allegiance to the new Baratheon regime. And we have done just that.'
That was the one thing that Olenna truly feared about the war with the Ironborn. Not that the Ironborn would win, no, there was very little to no chance of that happening. No, what she was truly worried about was that her idiot of a son would do something or say something during the campaign that would once again paint the Reach and House Tyrell specifically in a bad light in front of the new King. But thankfully, despite offending Randyll Tarly yet again with his mouth, her son had actually managed to worm his way into the King's good graces enough to allow the Reach lords to finally make their appearance at the Stag court.
'But House Tyrell will not be making an appearance. No, not yet. We cannot leave the Reach just yet. We need to reaffirm our hold over our vassal houses before we start making any plays for the Iron Throne.'
Walking away from the balcony, she considered the map of the Reach that was held up on the wall of her room. 'Mace insulted Randyll during the Rebellion by claiming a victory that wasn't his. And now he just had to open his fat mouth again and antagonize one of our most powerful and influential Lords. Not to mention the most skilled military commander in the Reach. We will have to take some time to strengthen our hold, make the Lords realize what a mistake it would be to try and take House Tyrell's rightful place as Wardens of the South.'
Marriage of course, was the easiest path to securing their hold. And Willas was old enough to be betrothed. And despite the damn viper crippling her grandson, he still had his looks, a good head on his shoulders, and the prestige of being the future Warden of the South. A fine catch for any noble lady despite his handicap. Garlan was another option, and while he was still a few years from being of age, he was starting to prove himself as a true knight of the realm, even if he hadn't been knighted yet.
'We need to get in good with the Baratheons. That will halt any of our lords from thinking of usurping us. It would be easy enough to simply betroth Margaery to the crown prince…but the boy is still but a boy and Margaery still only a girl. And while that is the future we are aiming towards; we need to approach it carefully. So, no, Margaery will not be brought before the court just yet. She needs to flower, mature. Grow strong and beautiful. But then how…hmmm…yes. Yes, that could work.'
Sitting down at her desk, she began to write up a draft to be sent to the King. 'Loras is of age to be a squire. The King won't take him. And even if he did, it would probably be as little more than a glorified cupbearer. Stannis hates anything and everything to do with our House thanks to how Mace postured and mocked him during the siege of Storm's End. So, that leaves one option: Renly. The boy is only a few years older than Loras, but the age difference is enough that Renly taking Loras as his squire would not be unheard of. Plus, Loras can begin to whisper in Renly's ear about Margaery's beauty and skill as a once those tales reach the King, from his brother's own lips, then Margaery will have a leg up on the other noble ladies of the realm.'
After going through two separate drafts of the letter, Olenna was finally satisfied with the letter she'd written to the King. 'Enough ass-kissing in here to make me want to lose my lunch. But unfortunately, such things cannot be helped. We don't have the clout yet to be blunt with the King. So, ass-kissing it is. For now, at least.'
Setting the letter aside, her thoughts turned once again as to how to reaffirm the Tyrell's hold on the Reach. And inadvertently, her thoughts drifted northwards. Towards the outlandish tale she'd heard not only from her oaf of a son, but from multiple other men of considerably brighter intellect that'd gone to the Iron Islands with her son. 'Lord Stark has an honest-to-Seven sorcerer under his control. I'm sure the Maesters are just loving that factoid. Their displeasure with magic is well known, especially here in the Reach in conjunction with the Faith of the Seven. They were perfectly willing to accept that magic died out with the last of the Targaryen dragons. But now, here we are. A sorcerer, alive and well. And in the land o the First Men no less. Oh, what I wouldn't give to see some of those 'knowledgeable men' squirm like little girls at the sight of spider.'
At first, she hadn't believed her son's tales of the man's capabilities. But after talking to a few more reputable sources, she discovered that her son had undersold the man's capabilities. 'I may not have the greatest mind for martial matters. But I know keeps. I know what it takes to claim one. And this sorcerer claimed Castle Pyke in less than a few hours. Partially on his own to boot. My, if only I were in my youth once more, I'd be ripping my dress off and offering to do whatever he wanted to gain even a fraction of that power.'
Despite being a daughter of House Redwyne and a Lady of the Reach, Olenna was not religious in the slightest. Sure, she went to the Sept as a good lady of the realm should. But it was more lip service than anything. Religion had its place. But it could also heavily narrow one's viewpoint of the world around them. 'The Septon's will no doubt try to disavow anything to do with the man. But, luckily, he's safe in the North where the Seven have no hold. Well, besides the Sept in White Harbor and the tiny little thing Lord Stark built for his wife…and what a mistake that was. It'd be like planting a weirwood in the middle of the Great Sept of Baelor and expecting people to come pray before it. Gods only know what was passing through Stark's mind when he made that decision. No doubt Catelyn Tully's tits or cunt.'
Shaking her head to refocus herself, Olenna forced out thoughts of Stark's marriage and back to the sorcerer. 'If House Tyrell could gain the favor of the sorcerer, then none would dare challenge us. Especially Tarly as he's seen what the man can do firsthand. But gaining his favor will be the trick. No doubt Tywin is already trying to create a scheme to do just that. There is no way that one like him would ever let an individual as powerful as this sorcerer slip away from him once he'd laid eyes on him. So... the question remains. How to gain his favor?'
While she didn't know the man personally, or even at all, she did know the Starks. Or their reputation at least. 'It is through the Starks that we will gain his favor,' Olenna decided, her mind wandering. 'But how to gain the favor of the Starks then? Betrothal? Lord Stark has a son of similar age…no. I will not give Margaery's hand to just anyone, even if that anyone is the future Warden of the North. And Stark's daughters are too young to be betrothed just yet. Maybe in a few years perhaps. But not now. Fostering? It has possibilities. But Willas and Garlan are both slightly beyond the time of fostering and Loras will hopefully soon be on his way to Storm's End. And I cannot send Margaery, I need that girl here so she can be properly raised. Perhaps we could foster one of Stark's daughters here in Highgarden? Yes…that might work. The eldest preferably to encourage a friendship between herself and Margaery, and even parade Willas in front of the girl like a prized peacock. Yes…that might just work.'
Pausing in her musing, Olenna stared out at her balcony. 'But I cannot make the offer just yet. No. So soon after the reveal of the sorcerer, such a move will seem to be act of desperation for favor. And our bannermen would smell the weakness and begin circling Highgarden like the sharks they are. And the Starks have had little interaction with House Tyrell over the years. Mostly due to the North's preferred isolation to the rest of the land. But perhaps it's time to start bringing that isolation to an end? We'll start by working out new trade deals with the North. Deals that are slightly more favorable for the North but won't hurt the Reach in the slightest. And the Northmen have a fascination with the Wall. Those legends of theirs make it seem like it's more than just the glorified penal colony that it is. Perhaps encouraging more prisoners to take the Black or even a few second or third son's that have nowhere to go. Yes…yes. But it will require time. Time that I only hope we have. And time that I hope I won't regret wasting.'
Pushing her correspondence to the king aside, she pulled out another sheet of paper. "Left, Right! Get in here."
The door to her room opened almost immediately as her two personal young guards entered the room. 'Ah, twin boys…handsome…strong. But unfortunately, not the brightest in the head. But still, if I was only younger…ah youth.' "Left, get me more parchment and ink." She ordered. "And Right, bring me food and wine. I'm going to be working here all night. So, bring some extra candles as well. Now shoo."
Sitting at his desk in the Tower of the Hand in King's Landing, Jon Arryn, Warden of the East, Defender of the Vale, and Hand of the King stared down at a map of the Seven Kingdoms that was sprawled out across his desk. Across the map, each kingdom was represented with several figurines depicting each kingdom's potential strength and what they could provide to the royal regime. The map was much more favorable to Robert and the Baratheon royalty now than it had been before the Greyjoy Rebellion. A rebellion that had gone exactly as Jon had organized. Especially now after Robert's victorious return to the capital.
'It took over two years while working through proxies of proxies,' Jon thought disdainfully as he remembered just what he had had to go through in order to goad the Greyjoys without implicating himself as the one who'd been pulling the strings. 'But in the end, everything went exactly as planned. The Reach was now firmly back under the control of the crown and Robert was even allowing some of the Reach Lords back to court. Ned's and Robert's relationship has finally begun to really mend after their falling out over the deaths of Elia and her children and Robert's refusal to seek justice for their murder. The people also now view Robert as a 'defender of the realm' rather than a Usurper. Although, there will probably always be a select few who refer to him as such for several years to come, but they are few and far between. But most importantly, the lion's growing influence within the court will be halted, at least for a few years.'
Truthfully, Jon did feel sympathetic for the people of Lannisport. Even with his predictions and his careful machinations, he had not fully anticipated the brutality and effectiveness of the Ironborn raid on Lannisport. He sent a prayer for the souls lost, but he took solace in the fact that their sacrifice was not for nothing. It would take years to Tywin Lannister to reclaim the loss of reputation due to the attack on his primary port town. Years during which his eyes and far reaching influence would be lessened at the royal court. Years during which Jon could begin to weaken the lion's influence on the Iron Throne.
'But despite the war turning out exactly how I wanted, not everything went according to plan,' Jon thought, his eyes flickering to the northern kingdom. 'And it is all because of one individual. The man who has been dubbed by Robert as the 'Northern Sorcerer'.
As an Andal, the very thought of a sorcerer in a position of power made him uneasy. But at the same time, his position as a Lord of the Realm, and as Hand of the King, gave him the perspective to ignore such feelings. The man and his power were becoming a symbol of fear, hope, inspiration, and wonder. Things that were of great use in controlling the masses. Thankfully, the sorcerer had found his home in the North and had all but sworn allegiance to the Starks. He would've preferred that the man was here in King's Landing where he could keep a better eye on him, but the North would suffice, and he would take comfort in the knowledge that he was not under Tywin Lannister's thumb. Gods only knew what the Realm would become should the lions gain the allegiance of a sorcerer. Let alone one as powerful as Robert and the many others he'd questioned who'd been at the Pyke claimed he was.
'And he will not be the last individual with these powers, if Robert's word is to be believed, which I have no reason to doubt.'
It'd taken a surprisingly large amount of wine, not to mention a lot of gentle prodding and more than a few mentions to his status as an almost-father while raising Ned and Robert, but eventually he got Robert to open up more about what Ned planned to do about the sorcerer now under his command. Ned planned on partially using the sorcerer to help train up both his trueborn son and heir and his bastard son. Both of whom, according to the sorcerer, had the born ability to command the same magic as he.
Jon wasn't sure just when Ned had become as wise in terms of the game, but he was playing his usage of the sorcerer perfectly. His sons would train together and form a bond as strong as any trueborn siblings under the tutelage of the sorcerer. And by keeping their abilities quiet, at least for a few years, he could ensure that there was be no outside interference in the boys' training. Specifically, if a Lord targeted Ned's bastard son and tried to tempt him with lordship of the North in return for something. It also gave Ned time to prepare. Because he had no doubt that the moment the knowledge that the Northern Sorcerer was training a Lord Paramount's son officially became known to the people as a whole, the other Lords of the Realm would be sending their heirs and throwing their daughters at the sorcerer in hopes that he will grant their house the prestige of having a sorcerer as their head of house.
'I will have to keep a close eye on the boys training,' Jon thought, idly tapping his finger on the map as he stared at the Northern kingdom. 'But the boys abilities make it imperative that the crown keeps a good relationship with the Starks. Just as the dragons served as a deterrent for years under the Targaryen rule, so too can these sorcerers act as a deterrent during the Baratheon rule. Perhaps a fostering, not for years as I don't want to disrupt Ned's careful plans to cultivate a good relationship between his sons. But perhaps when the boys are older…or mayhap I can convince Robert to send Joffrey North. Wait… No… That won't work. The boy may still be young, but the lioness has shown her claws when even the mention of her 'precious golden son' is brought up.'
Putting thoughts of the sorcerer and fostering aside, Jon allowed his gaze to flicker to the last problematic region of Westeros. And it was this region that truthfully frightened Jon the most. For if Dorne were to want to remove the Baratheons from power, they could not do so through a strength of arms. No, they would simply send assassins, poison the Baratheons, and then they would retreat back into their desert where no foreign army has managed to claim victory. Not even the Targaryens in the height of their power could rein in Dorne through strength alone. It took marriage to bring Dorne into the fold. And perhaps marriage might be the answer again.
'Doran Martell would not agree to a marriage with any Baratheon, nor any Lannister. And I have no heirs yet to offer him. The Reach will not be willing to marry into Dorne, not with the recent slight delivered upon them with Oberyn Martell wounding Willias Tyrell. Edmure Tully is an option…but I do not believe that would be viable. By Dornish customs, the eldest Arianne Martell is next in line to become the ruler of Dorne. And I doubt that she would be willing to give up such a position to become Lady of the Riverlands. No, Doran will not accept just any Lord or Lady for his sons or daughter. But…perhaps there is another option. Perhaps, just perhaps, Doran would be willing to accept a son of Dorne for his daughter. One that would not be a threat to the Martell's control of Dorne. Quite the opposite in fact. And one that could help to ensure that the Martell's stayed loyal to the crown. And, amusingly enough, the solution to that lies once again in the North. And he is gaining value as we speak.'
Ned refused to speak of just who the mother of his bastard son was. But Jon was not a fool. And he knew his foster son perhaps better than the man knew himself. And Jon knew that there was only one woman in the whole of Westeros that could make the Honorable Eddard Stark forgo his honor. And that woman was Ashara Dayne.
The timing worked out; the babe was just born slightly on the smaller size. And the story is well known that during the Rebellion the Lady Dayne grew large with child. House Dayne claimed that the child was a stillborn girl, but Jon didn't buy it. No doubt Ned took the boy in the hopes of raising him, which was understandable considering what just happened to his family. And it was Ned taking her son, as well as the loss of her brother that drove the Lady Dayne to her sad fate.
'The Dayne family will more than likely deny the claim, especially as they have not come forth with the claim yet. Perhaps they are ashamed of his Northern roots. But it doesn't matter. In time when the boy's abilities become known, his value will be elevated to a level that no bastard in history has ever experienced. And the Daynes would be foolish to deny Ashara as the mother when that day comes. Doing so would hurt their reputation perhaps to a point of no return. And it is not without precedence for the ruler of Dorne to take a bastard as their consort and gift them with the ruling families name.'
He would have to time it carefully. He needed to give the boy time to grow into his powers and prove his worth. And he also needed to give Ned time to reaffirm the boys' allegiances to not only the North and House Stark, but the royal family as well. He would give the boy five years, maybe a year more if the knowledge of his powers hadn't spread through Westeros by then. And then he would carefully begin to spread the rumors of who the boy's mother is, making sure that said rumors reached Dorne, specially Doran and Arianne Martell.
Yes. That would be for the best. But again, those were plans for years from now. He needed to focus on the here and now. With the lion's gaze off King's Landing, he was free to implement his own people into the court. And he had one candidate specifically in mind. 'It would solve many of the problems I am having. Specifically, the problem of Robert's extravagant spending habits and my wife's complaints of having no companionship here in the capital. And according to the reports I've seen, he has done an extraordinary job in the Vale so far. Rumor says that he can rub two coppers together and produce a gold dragon. An ability which I find difficult to believe, but one that could prove useful as well. Yes. I will offer him the position as Master of Coin and put his skills to the test. But I will have to be careful. I am aware of his history with my wife. I will have to have the two of them watched and make sure they do not spend any prolonged time together outside of what is socially acceptable.'
Putting such thoughts aside for the moment, Jon pulled out a blank raven scroll, dipped his quill in his ink well and began to write the summons of Petry Baelish to court in order to assume the position of the Master of Coin.