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The Crippled Wolf-Stark SI: Ch.67
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 19:30:37 +0000 UTCChapter 67 INTERLUDE II Miles and miles away in the lands of Essos, an exiled Lord sat and drank in silence as he tried to drown his sorrows
Chapter 67 INTERLUDE II Miles and miles away in the lands of Essos, an exiled Lord sat and drank in silence as he tried to drown his sorrows
Chapter 67
INTERLUDE II
Miles and miles away in the lands of Essos, an exiled Lord sat and drank in silence as he tried to drown his sorrows in wine and ale.
“We have had a new addition to our company,” Strickland said as the exiled lord raised a brow.
“So, that happens every day,” he answered, drowning another cup.
“Yeah, but he is different. He is from Westeros and was a priest there,” answered the captain of the famous Golden Company, nd those words struck him—it had been years since he’d heard that name
“Who is he?”
“Thoros, he is a servant of the Red God....”
0000
~~FIVE YEARS LATER~~
OLENNA TYRELL
Never had a defeat felt so bitter to the Queen of Thorns than the one she had suffered nearly a decade ago at the hands of a boy barely out of his childhood. And it felt all the more bitter as she saw the banners of her House decorating the walls of the Red Keep, joined by the Grey Direwolf of their King’s ancestral land.
For decades, House Tyrell had sought a Royal Match, and to outsiders, her House was being given a great honor as their long-sought-after desire was being fulfilled in the next few days. However, only she knew of the steep price they had paid.
The lords and ladies of the realm came to greet her and offer their congratulations on the match between her grandson and the King’s sister, but how could she tell them that she had proposed an entirely different match?
Not that it was all so bad. The boy—and calling him that anymore would be a great disservice to their King, had been an unexpectedly good King as he prepared the realm for a war.
Yet despite that, the realm progressed in a way it had never done since the time of the Conciliator himself. There wasn’t a day when she would not see the Maesters or the Alchemists drum up something new that no man had ever thought to build before.
Steel, stone, glass, clothes, and so forth. And though others may be blind to it, but Olenna had lived long enough to know if something was unnatural or not.
And all of this was unnatural. Not that she cared much for the Gods anyway.
In the five years, their new King had made everyone forget how he was no King but a King consort. Not that it mattered much, for all of the lords and ladies had long looked to him for guidance, and though the Queen would show her face and wield her powers far better than her predecessors, everyone knew where the true power in the realm lay.
Cregan the Crafter, they called him if they were being generous, for he had in half a decade begun to change the entire realm in a way that no man had done so in three hundred years.
To the younglings, the change may feel slow, but for an old soul such as her, who had seen the shift of decades, she saw the changes taking place and wondered more and more if their King was really just a boy, or the Crone come himself.
To his enemies, he was Cregan the Cunning, for in half a decade, he had quelled all the unrest surrounding his rule and had consolidated so much power in his hands as no King had done before.
His enemies, both inside and outside, remained in tatters, as he slowly and methodically deprived them of all their resources while pretending to be holier than thou. And as she thought about the piles upon piles of gold and grain that had been barrelled into this city, her stomach began to turn.
“My lady,” the servant's words broke her out of the trance as she turned to the side, feeling older than ever.
“You have another guest,” and she rolled her eyes at those familiar words, as she drolled in angst.
“Do all of them have to come and greet me today?” she chastised the poor boy who had come to inform her of the arrival of another lord and lady trying to curry her favor.
“I am not going to drop dead tomorrow,” she finished as the poor sod, looked around like headless swan before a familiar voice cut through her pains.
“And here I thought you would be happy to see this guest,” she said, and she eyed the gardens behind her, where she saw the familiar face of her granddaughter stride through the flower beds, and she immediately smiled.
“Of course I am happy to see you, Margary,” she said, and her gaze narrowed at the headless idiot who had lumped her granddaughter in with the rest of the common guests.
“Go and tell any other lord or lady that comes that they can see this old had tomorrow,” and Margary chuckled, as she plopped down on the chair opposite to her, her actions slow and cautious as she nursed that swollen belly of hers.
And her little dove had become a woman grown. She had hoped to make her the Lady of the North, but the little boy had foiled her plans. But in the end, the Lady of Horn Hill was an appropriate enough title for her.
It came with the benefit of being close to home. The wedding had taken place two years ago, in this very castle, as the new King and Queen tried to replicate the matchmaking prowess of the Conciliator and his Good wife.
It was the third year of the new King’s rule, and the Queen had become pregnant with her first child, bringing forth much-needed stability to the realm, and with that stability, a stream of marriages had begun that lasted to this day.
All the while, the King and Queen slowly knit together the realm which had been torn apart by the treachery of Robert’s brothers and prepared them for the enemy waiting for them across the Sea.
And as much as she may loathe the King and how he had gotten the best of her once, she would much rather have him rule over the continent than a foreign boy and vengeful girl plagued with Aerys’s madness.
“Where is that hulking husband of yours?” Margary rolled her eyes at her words, and what else was she to say?
“Dickon has gone to greet the King and the Queen,” then he would be greatly disappointed.
“I am afraid he has come too late. The King has gone hunting, taking your brother along with him,” hence leaving her to receive all these lords and ladies and their well wishes.
“But you knew that, didn’t you?” and her little dove had become a player of the game herself, and while she had much to learn, it was good for her to lose her naivety.
“Maybe,” she said with a smile that told her everything as Olenna chuckled, as the bitterness of her loss began to fade away.
“Still, the city has changed quite a bit in the years that I was gone,” and indeed it had, and the biggest change was the small which had once captured the very air, was now dulled or even gone.
Again, because of a bit of intervention by their King and his pack of learned men.
“That is our King at work,” she said, and Margary’s smile dimmed at the mention of the Stark man.
“Sometimes I wonder just what goes through that mind of his,” and what she wouldn’t give to know that.
“You still haven’t gotten over your little loss,” Margary teased, and she knew her better than to ask that.
“It has been five years grandmother, you should let go of it now,” and she would have if it was the Old Lion, or even that dutiful and honorable Ned Stark who had bested her.
But a boy.
That was much harder to forget.
“He has you wrapped around his fingers much like your brother,” and Margary rolled her eyes as the servants brought them cheese and cake and tea, and she raised a brow as she saw her take the very cheese she could not even stand once.
“Garlan?” she asked, and she shook her head.
“No, Willas,” and the King and the heir of Highgarden had bonded quickly over their shared handicap and a love for animals. The boy had been here for a few moons and already had become much closer to the King.
Not that she minded it much, for soon enough they would be kin as king’s twin would marry him and join their two houses with duty and blood.
“It’s probably because of his new wife,” and again she showed her fangs, as Olenna gave a short chuckle.
“Well, he is a man,” and Sansa Stark was a woman as beautiful as any. The Fire of the North, named for her red Tully hair, was one of the most prized beauties of the realm, and she had ruled over the capital along with the Queen for half a decade now.
She had been a soft and sweet girl when she had first come to this city. Docile and nervous, with little wit, but she had learned the game and had learned it well.
“I had always feared that Willas would never go beyond his love for horses,” but now he had lost himself to his new wife of his, and her brother, but she did not mind it much for at least he was not being played around like his father.
“So, is it true that our King plans to name a new Hand?” and she nodded, for the word had spread all over the city by now.
“Yes, it seems like Eddard Stark has finally run out of patience,” and a king was only as good and effective as his counsellors, and their new King had a knack for choosing the right men for the right job.
His father acted as his hand, and there were few in the realm who could question the honor of Eddard Stark, while the ever jovial fat Lord of White Harbor served as his Master of Coin.
He had circled through a number of men for the Master of Ships, and now the Onion Knight served the King as he had once done for Stannis Baratheon.
Tyrion Lannister served as the King’s Master of Laws, and the little dwarf had become an enigma for many whispered that he was more Starks’ men than Lannister. Perhaps it was the slight from his own father that had irked him, who had chosen to name his disgraced son as the heir instead of him, not that it surprise her much, for the Lannisters did care more for glitter and showmanship than actual mettle.
The little dwarf had quite a mind on his head and was one of the staunchest supporters of the king inside these Halls. Another one of their men occupied the position of Lord Commander, and to prepare the realm for the looming war, the King had made an addition to his council, in the form of the Master of War, and had named none other than her own bannermen from Horn Hill to the position.
It was slight against her House, but in the end, the King had bested her at the game. But with the Hand leaving the office soon, the Small Council would have an opening, and it was rumored that House Tyrell may finally get rewarded for their loyalty.
The Dornish were the other interested party, and had been relatively quiet for quite some time as the Red Viper’s three daughters now all served the Queen along with the Tarth girl, as Jonaquil had once served the Good Queen.
Others may think it an honor, but she believed it to be nothing but another ploy of their King, for in them he held three hostages, base-born girls. Still, each of them was greatly loved by their father, who had been quite a frequent visitor of the capital along with the Martell heiress.
“Do you think he will choose Willas?” Margary asked, and she hoped that he would.
“None can say what the King will do,” for he remained a mystery to her as always.
“But one thing I can say for certain,” and all the changes and preparations, for a man so young he was moving too fast.
“Something big is coming,” she whispered as Margary’s face shifted.
“Something big and sinister, and I can only pray that our king has prepared us enough...”
0000
BENJEN STARK
In the thousands of years of recorded history never had House Stark been so strong and prominent than it was in the current moment in time. Today, all across the Seven Kingdoms it was a Stark who sat the Iron Throne, it was a Stark who advised the said King as his hand, it was a Stark who commanded the Night’s Watch and it was a Stark that ruled over the North, as their ancestors had for thousands of years.
The once impoverished Lords of the North were now amongst the richest as the King’s generosity saw their coffers grow. The King’s Road which had been nothing but a disgrace once it entered the Northern lands, had been reconstructed and expanded and now spread over all of the North connecting the lands to the South and with one another.
The King’s generosity spread to the Night’s Watch as well, and the Wall had not been better manned or equipped in centuries, and of its twenty castles, eleven were ready for war.
And a war was coming. The younglings may not be able to sense it, but the greybeards and all those who had lived through the previous conflict could tell that the King was preparing them for war.
Benjen had never thought that he would become the Lord Commander, but the old Bear had fallen ill a year ago with a chill so ferocious that it had brought down the old bastard, and so Benjen was forced to take the mantle so as to keep the Watch united against the coming danger.
And here in Castle Black, they knew both of the war and the enemy, and prepared themselves accordingly for this time, they did not face against men and women of flesh.
They faced an enemy that had slumbered away for thousands of years.
But they did not fight alone. Through years of negotiations, an agreement had been reached with the Free Folk living beyond the wall, and though they were no allies, if they were to face off against the dead, then the living would have to band together—all of the living, both South and North of the Wall.
Now, it was time for the final negotiation, and so for the first time in years, Benjen welcomed a King Beyond the Wall into his Halls as he allowed him passage to see the Wardens of the North.
A retinue of twelve left for the North as Benjen Stark spoke to the King Beyond the Wall for the last time.
“So the King will not come to see us again?” asked Mance Rayder, and he shook his head.
“No, the King will not see you or your retinue but my brother will,” Benjen informed him, and the man already knew of Eddard.
“A shame,” Mance added, as he shook his hand.
“I had hoped to see him again,” Mance whispered as he eyed the skies where the Sun was just beginning to come out.
“The King?” he confirmed, and Mance nodded.
“Yeah, just once more I wanted to look him in the eye and thank him for saving my people...”
0000
Comments
Skulldragon7
Margary->Margaery
Skulldragon7
see this old had tomorrow -> see this old hag tomorrow change was the small which had once captured the very air -> change was the smell which had once captured the very air
