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The Crippled Wolf-Stark SI: Ch.71
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 17:44:51 +0000 UTCChapter 71
DORAN MARTELL
Doran had never been as agile as his brother. Oberyn was the spear and shield of Dorne, its shining warrior—its Red Viper. Doran was the grass that hid the viper, the one who hid it, protected it, and offered it aid in hunting down its prey.
But grass he may be, but he was Dornish and his heart seared with the same fiery rage as his brother as he remembered the fate of his sister. It was because of this rage that he had agreed to the Spider’s little ploy and had engaged the exiled Prince in hopes of upending the reign of the Usurper, Robert Baratheon.
It was a very precarious ploy, one which he had hidden under the guise of punishing Oberyn. And for decades, he thought the secret lost to the world, only for it to be revealed by the most unlikely of people.
Cregan Stark, or as the commoners called him, Cregan the Crone. He must have been but a boy then, and yet he somehow knew of events that had taken place miles and miles away from where he was.
For half a decade now, Doran had wondered how a child of a few years had come to know of his most well-kept secret—a secret known to only half a dozen people.
But in the end, it did not matter. The Prince died, and the betrothal died with him. Yet, his entire family felt the consequences of his actions, as the King held onto the Sand Snakes and his own daughter as hostages to keep Dorne in line.
It was a cruel fate, but the new King was merciful and was not blind to the injustice done to their sister. Five years—he had spoken, and now with that time gone, he offered them a chance at justice.
He had heard much about the change that the King had brought to the capital, and as his carriage drove down the roads, he could see it as well. He had not visited the capital for some time now, and the city had changed much.
The jagged sprawl of the misshapen buildings and streets that had once been the hallmark of the capital was beginning to change, and wherever he looked, he saw homes and shops built in the same fashion, some taller than others—all of them in line, even as their wares and clothes hung outside them.
It was all built using the new stone of the Crown, one that the Alchemists had created some years ago. Although it was not as long-lasting as stone, it was far better than dirt and wood.
The smell which had haunted the city was nearly all gone, and men clad in armor walked up and down the streets on horses, wearing the Crown’s sigil around their shoulders as they patrolled the city.
And these were not the City Guard of before, for these men had been trained and were part of the Royal Army, which housed itself in Duskendale—twenty-five thousand strong, trained over a period of five years, all of them under the command of the stern Randall Tarly.
“Perhaps the people speak the truth,” he whispered to Hotah, who accompanied him in his carriage, as he saw the city, which looked so different than what he had witnessed some years ago.
“Indeed,” Hotah agreed, and he had been to the city many more times than himself.
“The Gods might truly bless him,” and that was the whisper, and it was also the only explanation on how a child born in the North had come to know of his plans.
He believed little in Gods and their justice, but the truth was hard to deny, for this was not normal. This change was too abrupt, too sudden, too unnatural.
“Still, why do you think he gathers us all?” Doran whispered to himself, for he was not the only Lord Paramount coming to the city, for their King had called all of them to the capital, being rather stern that they all had to come for in his words, ‘the fate of the world was at stake.’
“What did he mean by that?” Doran wondered.
But he would not have to wait long. Soon enough, he would meet the young man himself and see for himself the man blessed by the Gods.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the Red Keep, and the castle was filled with bustle as the servants all rushed to prepare for the wedding of the King’s sister, and as Hotah helped him into his wheel chair, Dora looked up and saw the man who had come to welcome him.
“Welcome to the capital, Prince Doran,” he was as small as ever. The Imp’s face remained as misshapen and crooked as it was when he was a babe, and though the little Lannister Lord may not remember it but years ago Doran had come to their home along with all his siblings, one of the last trips he had made before the damned ‘gout’ had robbed him of his freedom.
“The Crown offers you its hospitality,” and a maid stepped forward, bearing a basket with loaves of bread and salt.
“Dorne accepts the hospitality,” and he took a bit of the loaf as precedent, before his retinue was led inside the castle.
“Come and rest, the King shall see you later....”
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CREGAN STARK
Kingship was a burden, for a King was responsible for not one but millions of lives, and he was a King who faced not just one but two great enemies—the Blacfyres and Death itself.
But a King’s power was enormous as well, for his will was absolute, and his will was to prepare for war, and so that was what the Seven Kingdoms had done for the last five years. They had prepared for war.
Men. Ships. Swords. Sheilds. And much more had been done to prepare the Seven Kingdoms for war, and now, five years later, he felt somewhat at ease as he sensed they were somewhat ready to face the dangers that lay ahead.
The Seven Kingdoms had not been so closely knit as they were today, though they were no longer Seven Kingdoms, for he had made the Iron Islands into a Royal fief, after the treachery of Balon Greyjoy.
“You have grown into a man finally,” the man sitting in front of him commented, and it had more than five years since he had met the Lord of Casterly Rock. The relationship between the Crown and the Rock had become rather troubled after his son and heir had tried to attack Cregan in this very solar.
In the end, the attempt had been foiled, and the Kingslayer slew no more Kings as Cregan had him thrown into the Black cells, as a missive was sent to the Rock summoning its lord.
In the end, Tywin Lannister had come to save his son, and Cregan had agreed to give him back his heir, but not before exacting a good price. The years had aged the man, and the lines on the old Lion’s face grew thicker, and his skin turned loose, yet his eyes gleamed with the same power and dominance as they did years ago, but while years ago he had met the man as a boy.
Now, he met him as an equal.
The years had been kind to him, and Cregan had taken after his uncle Benjen, for he did not have the breath of his father, he was lean and tall and had hair that ran past his ears.
“I have, and you have grown old,” and he had, but the man finally had what he had always sought—legacy for Jamie had married one of his bannermen’s daughter a few years ago, and now Tywin Lannister had a proper heir to train in the form of Jamie Lannister’s son.
“I do hope you have met the Queen?” he questioned, and the old man nodded.
“I have,” and Myrcella was not much fond of the man himself, though she did have some respect and love for him given that he was her grandfather, but as she learned of what the man had done to his own son, and his wife she could never quite love him as a granddaughter should.
“You have poisoned her against me as well,” the Old Lion complained, but Cregan shook his head, denying the accusation.
“I did no such thing,” and the man was silent for a few seconds before those green eyes narrowed.
“Tyrion, then,” he whispered, and he felt no shame at all for letting the little Imp take the fall for his actions. It was not as if the relationship between the father and son was ever going to recover.
“Perhaps,” he whispered, and the old Lion was quite as he gazed out the window.
“The city,” he whispered, “it has changed.”
And it had indeed. However, the change had not come easily, and Cregan had spent a considerable amount of Gold in trying to rebuild the capital and erase the mistakes of the past. Better sewers, better streets, zoning laws, and so forth.
Yet now, Kingslanding looked worthy of its title as the abode of the King.
“It has,” Cregan agreed, and there was something in those eyes that one would never expect to see in a man such as him.
Envy.
“Still, now that I am here, I must ask why you have summoned all of the Lord Paramounts to the capital?” and he would give them the answer.
“You will have your answer, Lord Tywin, but you will have to wait until after the wedding. I don’t want to spoil the whole affair,” and the man’s eyes narrowed.
“But before that, I believe it is time for you to pay your debt,” and Cregan raised two fingers.
“Two lives, for two broken oaths,” he reminded him, as the man ground his teeth.
“What if I refuse?” he whispered, and Cregan’s eyes narrowed in an instant, his hand reached for the blade placed against the table.
“Are you really asking me that?” because that would mean war, and an absolute destruction of what little legacy he had managed to persevere.
“You would go to war with the Lannisters, all because of the Dornish,” he scoffed, and Cregan scoffed.
“I would go to war with you because of broken oaths and treachery. The deal we made five years ago was simple: you would get your son, while I would get Lorch and Gregor Clegane. What I do with those two men is my business!” and the man raised a brow.
“But you do intend to hand them over to the Dornish?” he questioned.
“That should be of no concern to you,” Cregan countered strongly, his voice cold and unrepentant, for he was no longer a child who needed to act through his Hand.
“The Dornish blame me for what happened to Elia Martell,” the man began, and of course they did.
“Will you come for my head after this?” Cregan raised a brow, and the man’s suspicion was justified, for he now feared for his own life.
“Did you give them the order to rape and kill her?” he countered with a question of his own.
“No,” and he was lying. He had ordered them to kill her at least, that much he had confirmed through various sources—the raping, though, the two monsters had done on their own.
Though Tywin knew what kind of monsters Clegane and Lorch were, so he had to know what they would do.
“We face a grave threat, and to face it, the Seven Kingdoms must band together, and if the cost of this peace is two dogs, then I will happily pay it,” but that was not the only reason he was doing this for.
“But I wish to set a precedent as well, for Elia Martell was a Princess, and that title means something even in defeat, and it is time that the realm remembers that,” and with that, a crow flew into the room and began to circle the room, before it landed on his shoulder.
“Well, it seems like you need not do anything, Lord Tywin,” and the man frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Your debt is paid....”
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.
.
Daenerys felt helpless as her so-called advisors all gathered around her and talked of her future. They called her Princess, yet all of them held more control over her life than even herself.
“Oberyn?” she heard the fat magister Illyrio frown, and she had not heard that name in so many years.
“Yes, Oberyn Martell, brother to Elia Martell,” the bald Spider clarified, as the three men sat and decided upon her future without any word from her.
“He wishes to come and meet the young Prince and Princess. He wishes to see the boy for himself,” and there was no need to question which ‘boy’ they spoke of, and the room grew silent at the mention of him.
“Do you think it wise?” questioned the fat magister, as he bit down on a block of cheese, the crumbs fell down onto his velvety cloak, but he cared not.
“If we are to attack Westeros, we will need a port to land our armies,” the Spider suggested.
“It could be a ploy from their King?” countered the Captain of the Golden Army, and the man now commanded not only the Golden Company but half a dozen mercenary groups, all of whom had been hired to fight for her—their cause.
“The Stark Boy,” he clarified and the mood in the room soured at the mention of the new King of Westeros, the young Wolf who had foiled many plans of the three schemers sitting in front of her.
“Let him come, the boy is his nephew after all,” Illyrio decided after a few seconds of silence, and she doubted that.
“Yes,” the Spider agreed easily.
“Indeed, it would be good for the boy to meet his family,” and with that, they turned towards her.
“I believe it is time for you to meet him yourself, after all, you are to be wed soon,” he added, as her stomach turned in revulsion.
“Do you not think it too hasty?” and while not as subtle and smart as them, Daenerys had learned a bit about the game as well.
“Shouldn’t he wed someone from Westeros so that we may muster some support from the lords there,” and if they saw through her intentions, they did not speak.
“You are right, but no lord will dare to wed their daughter to the boy when the King has declared him a Blackfyre, and with you two wed, none would dare question your claim to the Iron Throne,” and he should have said ‘his’ claim, for she had none.
Not as long as Aegon was alive.
“I am his aunt,” she argued again as Illyrio’s eyes narrowed.
“The Targaryens have wed brother and sister for centuries. This is no taboo,” and with that, there was a knock on the door.
“Well, it seems like he is here,” and with that, Illyrio beckoned the doors opened, and she watched as a boy stepped forward, tall and thin like her own brother had been, yet unlike Viserys, his steps were sure-footed, and his hair neatly cut.
Behind him was a tall man with red hair, now streaked with hints of white and grey. She saw his eyes land on her as the Spider spoke up.
“You are finally here, Griff,” shouted Strickland, the captain of the Golden Company, as the red-haired man answered in a dull tone.
“Yes, that damned Red Priest got lost in the city, so I had to send men to search for him,” and the captain shook his head.
“That damned drunk. I have told him a dozen times to drink less, but he never listens,” and they talked as if old friends, while her eyes remained rooted on the boy, who may or may not be her nephew.
“Come, Aegon, meet Daenerys Targaryen, your betrothed,” and the boy smiled, and she saw through his nervousness as she rose to greet him. Unlike her brother, his movements were refined, his eyes held no fear or desperation, unlike Viserys's.
He slowly took her offered hand and put his lips to her knuckles as he offered her his greeting.
“It is good to see you finally, my lady....”
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Comments
FallenMetalGod
Thank you. The conversation between Cregan and Tywin was well written. It seems like the Gold Company as quite the familiar Red Priest. Great job as always and I can't wait to see what happens next.
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the chapter.
