To read early:
Chapter 17 : ' A Game of Pain & Passion'
Chapter 18 : 'A Tale of Waters and Snow'
Chapter 19 : 'The Northern Fist'
Chapter 20: 'Double Dual'
Chapter 21: 'Dragon against Wolf'
Chapter 22: 'The Tournament of Pretenders'
Chapter 23: "The divided Pack"
Chapter 24: "Too far, too late"
Chapter 25: "The Ghosts of Guilt"
Chapter 26 : "How time and blood flow"
Chapter 27: "Those who rule over Winter"
Chapter 28: "Clinging to hope"
Chapter 29: "The Barn owl"
Chapter 30: "Legends"
Chapter 31: "The Starks of Winterfell"
Chapter 32: "Ice and Fire"
Chapter 33: "Rhaenyra and Arthur"
Chapter 34: "The Choice is not the one you thought"
Chapter 35: "What we are meant to be"
Support me on=
w w w . p a t r(e)on (slash) MonsieurLAH
Enjoy reading!
Chapter XVI : The Nastiest Viper
The weirwood tree was Arthur's favorite place in all of King's Landing. Here, in front of his Gods, he could relax and forget about Court business for as long as Shadow needed to hunt or as many hours of sleep he needed back. Since he had come to King's Landing without an escort, the King had given him guards to ensure his protection, but of course, since they all ailed from the Reach, Arthur trusted none of them and even spied on their conversations to make sure they had not heard anything important. The last raven destined to Oldtown he had intercepted had only mentioned the reputation that was growing at Court.
And what a reputation he had, he almost laughed whenever he heard the ladies or the knights speaking of him. He had grown from savage to master-manipulator, a sorcerer to some and a cunning politician to others. The ladies saw him as a dangerous seducer, who had stolen the Princess' heart and some wondered if he would steal her and bring her back North. Fortunately for him, the Queen Alicent had quickly interfered in his favor, assuring that he was a simple man with a complicated mind and a good heart, who knew he could never marry the Princess and would nonetheless defend her honor and virtue no matter the cost.
Arthur had not liked the way the Queen had depicted him as some kind of gallant knight, because that had turned his supposed affair with Rhaenyra into some kind of tale of an impossible love that had taken a few tears from some mesmerized impressible young ladies. Arthur hoped no rhapsode would hear about this rumor, neither he nor his Princess needed any song about them. Especially the latter.
His reputation among knights was good at most, especially since he was training, sparring and talking with Ser Harwin and as many fighters as he could every evening before the Gold Cloaks' night patrols. Only the Reachmen did not trust him, but he could live with that. Ser Harwin had been particularly useful to better his reputation among the City Watch. As their new Commander since Daemon's departure, the Heir to Harrenhal sometimes sat on the Small council, not always since he was often patrolling at nights and was usually too exhausted in the morning to attend. But often enough. And one day, he came with a particular request; he wanted the King's permission and support to inflict severe punishments to the Capital's criminals in order to counter the rise of crime since the Rogue Prince's departure. Initially, the King had refused, for he did not wish to see half of his city maimed, but Arthur interfered in Harwin's favor.
"Your Grace," he had said, "I understand your reluctance to violence. However, those are your laws, the King's laws, those punishments were made to discourage the potential future criminals to rise. I, for one, believe that severity, prevents more crimes than it punishes. Ser Harwin does not have to make a spectacle of it, but he is only applying your law. If you do not wish for thieves to lose their hands, for rapists to lose their cocks or for murderers to lose their heads, then you need to change your laws. But as your Hand, I strongly advise you not to do that."
"As do I, Your Grace." Lord Strong, the Master of Laws, had added.
Arthur had spoken again.
"The alternative would be to offer the criminals the choice of taking the Black, but we would need to requisition ships and cages and chains to take the prisoners to CastleBlack."
"Your Grace!" Lord Beesburry had exclaimed, alarmed. "The costs would be tremendous!Requisitioning ships for so long and so often would put a dent in our coffers! And we have already spent a lot of gold to improve the City Watch at Prince Daemon's demands."
"And we would put the City Watch in more danger, for it is harder to capture a man than to kill him" Ser Harwin had added.
"And it would be a very unpopular decision." Arthur had said. "As King Jaehaerys himself has said, 'The Night's Watch is for men of honor, who have lost it and are in need of a chance to restore it'. Sending rapists, thieves and murderers would be an insult to the North and to every man of the Watch."
That had not been King Jaehaerys' exact quote, but the real quote had left enough room for interpretation. Viserys had ended up acknowledging their arguments and the matter was closed in Harwin's favor. A favor the Commander of the City Watch had repaid by bettering the new Lord Hand's reputation among the gold cloaks.
Of course, not all matters were that easy to settle, and it did not take Arthur more than a moon to suffer his very first defeat as Hand of the King.
This had happened during a session that should have been easy to settle, yet the highest Septon of King's Landing had honored them with his presence and had informed them that a Septon had been arrested the night before. He had demanded the man's release into the custody of the Faith so that they might deal with him.
Every person on the Small Council had frowned, except Lord Lyonel, who had read the City Watch's reports before the session. At Arthur's request, he had given the document detailing the Septon's arrest to the Hand of the King, and once the latter had read it, Rhaenyra had known that her friend's temper would get the best of him.
"According to this report," Arthur had vociferated, "Your Septon was caught raping a boy of nine in a back Gold Cloaks would have had him castrated on the spot had he not claimed being a Septon. He was thrown in a Black Cell waiting for judgement, and now, you expect us to release him into your custody after he has committed such a horrible crime inside the King's city?"
The Septon who had come to them had not back away from the Northerner's tone, if anything, it lit a fire into the old man's eyes.
He had addressed the King directly, something Viserys had not liked.
"Your Grace, since Maegor's rule the Faith of the Seven has offered the Crown considerable latitude regarding your Valyrian traditions. We have surrendered our swords, the Warrior's sons, and trusted our lives into your hands, we have accepted the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, for we knew that the Gods had built your royal family differently, but we may not surrender our justice, it is for the Faith' servants, and the Faith' servants only."
"And what 'justice' are we talking about?" Arthur had questioned sharply. "What is to be this man's punishment for a crime of this magnitude?"
The Septon had not cowered from the Stark's sharp tone, he had simply answered with a stone face:
"The man will be sent to the Riverlands to repent in an isolated sept for his crimes, once the Seven have pardoned him, he will be reinstated as a repented Septon and continue to serve the Seven who are One."
Arthur had been so shocked by the man's audacity that he had lost his words for a few seconds, and King Viserys had taken advantage of that time to speak:
"We understand, the man will be released into the custody of the Faith. Thank you for your visit, Septon…?"
"Oric."
"Septon Oric, we thank you for your time, and hope that such an incident will not occur again."
"May the Seven hear you, Your Grace." The Septon had said, and had left.
Arthur was left speechless as anger rose inside his guts after the man of the Faith had gotten out of the chamber. He exhaled loudly, bringing the attention of every person present in the room to him.
"Arthur…" Rhaenyra had forgotten decorum.
He had smashed his fist on the table, provoking the quick reaction of the Kingsguard who hastened to draw their swords.
"No!" Lord Commander Harrold had commanded, preventing things from escalating.
A nod from King Viserys had convinced the White cloaks to sheath their swords back while Arthur was trying and failing to regain his composure.
"Lord Hand…" Viserys had spoken. "I understand your anger…"
"No you don't." Arthur had almost bitterly chuckled. "My apologies, Your Grace, but you can't possibly understand how much I despise rapists."
Rhaenyra had frowned at his words while Lord Tyland had looked outrage by the Stark's boldness.
"Fair enough…" Viserys had nodded.
"I apologize for this spectacle, my lords, Your Grace, Princess." Arthur had sighed. "But do you realize what will happen once words of this will come out?"
Lord Tyland had rolled his eyes.
"The smallfolk will accept the justice of the Faith."
"I am not talking about the smallfolk." Arthur had sharply replied. "I am talking about the repercussions of such a difference of treatment."
"What do you mean?" Lord Strong had inquired.
"The moment rapists learn that men of the Faith are treated differently than the common people, they will all consider joining the Faith of the Seven, in order to keep indulging in their perversions without fear of punishments. How long will it take before the Capital's Sept overflows with rapist-Septons? A year? Half a decade perhaps, but it will happen. This is too good of an opportunity for criminal scum to ignore. How can we prevent that from happening when we are speechless against the Gods' justice?"
All Lords had shifted uncomfortably on their chairs.
"What would you have us do?" King Viserys had asked. "I cannot risk another conflict with the Faith, only the High Septon could possibly help us."
"Perhaps you would have us march to Oldtown with an army to force the High Septon's hand?" Lord Lannister had japed.
What the twin of the Lord Paramount of the Westernlands had not expected was for the Lord Hand to ponder on his words. Which had even more worried the members of the Small Council.
"Perhaps not an army." The Northerner had conceded. "A more spiritual approach is necessary for such a problem."
Lord Tyland had rolled his eyes.
"Why do you even care so much about this?You are a Northman, you don't follow the Seven who are One."
"Why indeed?" Rhaenyra had thought.
Arthur's interest for the Faith had been new, he had never cared for this since she had known him. He had even frowned whenever the Faith had been mentioned.
The northerner threw a hard look toward the Lannister.
"I am the King's Hand, as such, I must care for every inhabitant in the Seven Kingdoms. So pardon me, Lord Tyland, when I find infuriating that the most common religion among the Realm is being used as a cover for rapists to indulge in their vices. Men and women of the Faith need to be held up as an exemple to the people, not an exception. That man was caught redhanded in the act of raping a child and he broke his oaths to the Faith. I will find a solution, but not today…"
And the matter had been closed, for now, and as he was sitting in the Royal Gardens with his back against the weirwood tree, Arthur was ruminating his inability to find the solution to this problem.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard heavy and limpy footsteps coming from his right, and as he turned his head, he found a skinny man with brown eyes and curls, walking towards him with a foot in an iron shoe and a cane in his hand.
"Ah, Lord Hand." The man said as their eyes crossed. "Pardon my intrusion, I was hoping to speak with you."
"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Larys." Arthur answered as he rose. "I welcome the distraction, my thoughts were in turmoil."
Larys Strong threw a sad look at the Northman.
"I am sorry to hear that, the Red Keep's atmosphere has been much more breathable since you became the King's Hand. We all hope the peace that you have offered us will last longer than two moons. You became quite popular in Court, if I may say so."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was not 'popular', properly speaking, but he knew that everyone was talking about him at least once a day. The only people with whom he was somehow popular, were Otto Hightower's rivals, who had been over the moon when the second son that had belittled them for years thanks to his pin, had finally been put in his place. Arthur was not arrogant as Otto had been, and he had a lot of patience. Many Lords, heirs and knights had come to his solar or had intercepted him in the corridors of the Red Keep to try and interest him with a matter or another. Needless to say Arthur had disliked the attention, and had done his best to either politely rebuke any man who had approached with an unimportant case, or to settle the matter had it been important enough for him to interfere. Then came the petitions, the King's job, the Hand's job when the King was indisposed. And the King had been indisposed three times in the past two moons.
Traditionally the person handling petitions was doing while sitting on the Iron Throne, that is what Otto had done since the time of King Jaehaerys. But Arthur had refused to do so; he had had a simple bench placed in front of the Throne on which he had sat, with his arms and legs crossed and Shadow at his feet. While some among court had laughed at what they had called a beggar's display. Many others had respected him for his decision to show common and noble people that he was not the King's equal, merely his servant.
Rhaenyra had rolled her eyes when she had seen the plain bench, and had privately mocked him for his choice of seat, assuming that it must have been very uncomfortable. But the Iron Throne was more than likely even worse, that was what Arthur had answered.
"Thank you for your kind words, my Lord." The Northman replied. "But you did not seek me out to talk about my popularity, did you?"
"No indeed," the limping man said with a smile. "My apologies, I simply wanted to ask you if you had news regarding the Princess' courtship?"
Arthur froze, with everything that had been going on, he had forgotten about Rhaenyra's courtship entirely.
"I am afraid I do not have more information than you do, but I am sure the Princess has done her best to see to its preparations."
"Oh, then you find me relieved." Larys answered with a bow. "Many people at Court were wondering if the Princess had not already chosen her future husband. And that it was the reason why, so few ravens had flown in the past weeks. You see, there are many Lords here who still hope to see their son wed to the Princess. Oh! And did I mention that many in the City expect a tourney in the Princess' honor, for her courtship? Perhaps it would…"
Arthur stopped him by putting a strong hand on his shoulder, though he did not squeeze. Larys Strong wisely shut his mouth.
"You've made your point, my Lord." The Northman said with a sharp tone. "I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. But do not take me for a fool with your performance and your honeyed words. A limping man can only find his place in this nest of vipers, by becoming the nastiest of them. Otherwise, you would have stayed at Harrenhall where you were safe, acting as its Lord in your Father's name. Yet, here you are. This alone speaks volumes of your ambition."
Larys did not answer right away, he took a moment to recompose himself and smiled an honest smile.
"You have a better sense of reality than I expected, my Lord." He said as he bowed his head as much as Arthur's hand allowed him. "I apologize for underestimating you."
"That's better." The Northman commented as he released him. "Am I the only one to see through this performance? Is it possible that so many be so stupid for so long?"
Larys chuckled as he looked at the weirwood tree.
"There are times when I have trouble believing it myself."
"You should not, people here are blinded by their oversized egos, none of them would expect a limping man who can't joust nor hunt to be dangerous."
Larys chuckled once more.
"You've hit the nail on the head, my Lord. Though, I suspect they would also underestimate a man who does not follow their gods or wears their silk, to be just as harmless in their eyes. Otto Hightower thought nothing of you despite the spectacle you had given during Prince Aegon's second nameday. And it cost him everything."
"His daughter's virtue cost him everything." Arthur thought but kept it to himself.
"So… what is it you want, Lord Larys?"
"Oh! I want a great many things, my Lord, today, I would settle for you to have words with our Princess, who is in no hurry to resume her courtship as she has shown in the past few weeks."
"And why do you want a tourney?"
Larys kept his eyes on the weirwood, his smile never faltered.
"A tourney would make things official, it is an event that would bring more suitors than the Princess could invite herself, and all the knights that would participate would covet her hand. This would be the tourney of the century."
"And it would force the Princess to chose a suitor by the end of it." Arthur said, emotionless. "Otherwise it would cause a scandal that could cost her, her claim."
Larys tore his eyes from the weirwood tree to look at the King's Hand.
"You do have a very good sense of realities, my Lord." His smile remained.
The Stark shook his head.
"A tourney winner would not make a good consort."
"Pardon me, Lord Hand, but why would our Princess need a good consort when she has you as Hand?"
Arthur dangerously narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly how stupid that statement was, and he was half a mind to break the limping man's other foot. A bad consort could challenge Rhaenyra, poorly educate any children they might have together, and have enough influence to start a war for the most trivial thing.
"Lord Larys… if you take me for a fool one more time, I will break your other foot."
Lord Lyonel's second son lowered his head in apology.
"I am truly sorry to have offended you, Lord Hand, so I will say this; the consort does not have to be the winner, but it also cannot be someone that will not participate in the tourney."
Arthur immediately realized what that meant, and his eyes widened themselves. Larys was right, if he did not participate in this tourney, then all rumors regarding Rhaenyra and him would stop. And the door to a potential marriage between them would forever be closed. It was a perfect opportunity, too good to pass.
But in the mean time… didn't it mean betraying Rhaenyra's trust? If she were to realize that this tourney's only reasons to exist would be to force her hand and to get himself out her reach… She would not forgive him. Of that he was sure.
Yet… She had lied to him as well. Now that Larys had pointed out that she never took the time to resume her courtship, this makes all the promises she had made worthless. He needed to have a talk with her. And the sooner the better.
But before that…
"You might be right, I thank you for your advice Lord Larys… However, I fail to see what you would gain for telling me this."
The limping man never stopped smiling.
"If you fail to see it, Lord Hand, then it is your failure alone, I am afraid."
Arthur snorted at that.
"Fair enough." He said as he walked past Larys. "Have a good day, my lord."
"You are the one who is going to make it good, my lord." He cryptically answered.
Arthur wondered if he did not prefer to traditionally play the Game of Thrones, after all.
To read early:
Chapter 17 : ' A Game of Pain & Passion'
Chapter 18 : 'A Tale of Waters and Snow'
Chapter 19 : 'The Northern Fist'
Chapter 20: 'Double Dual'
Chapter 21: 'Dragon against Wolf'
Chapter 22: 'The Tournament of Pretenders'
Chapter 23: "The divided Pack"
Chapter 24: "Too far, too late"
Chapter 25: "The Ghosts of Guilt"
Chapter 26 : "How time and blood flow"
Chapter 27: "Those who rule over Winter"
Chapter 28: "Clinging to hope"
Chapter 29: "The Barn owl"
Chapter 30: "Legends"
Chapter 31: "The Starks of Winterfell"
Chapter 32: "Ice and Fire"
Chapter 33: "Rhaenyra and Arthur"
Chapter 34: "The Choice is not the one you thought"
Chapter 35: "What we are meant to be"
Support me on=
w w w . p a t r(e)on (slash) MonsieurLAH
Enjoy reading!