Chapter 27-Games!

Chapter 27

JON SNOW

Jon had never thought that he would get to leave Winterfell, and yet here he was thousands of miles away from his home as he rode towards the capital city of Kingslanding. The journey to the capital was much quieter and somber as the royal family still mourned the loss of the Crown Prince.

Despite his constant desire to leave Winterfell to make something of himself, Jon found himself missing his old home and the people inside it even as he rode. He missed Robb, and Arya and even Sansa with her sharp quips, all of whom were still at Winterfell, as their father had chosen to take only him, Cregan and his ward Theon to the capital with him.

Sansa and Arya had cried much at that, yet the Lord of Winterfell had been persistent. Though he had promised to call them to the capital after sometime after he had settled into his new role as the King's Hand.

"When I learned that I would be riding with the King, I had thought that there would be feasts, and drinks and hunts," came a familiar voice from the side as Jon sat around a fire as they made a final stop before entering into the Crownlands, after which they would be a few day's ride away from the capital city.

"Not all this riding," complained Theon as he kicked a piece of wood into the raging fire, and a part of him agreed with Theon.

"I doubt that the Royal family is in any mood for festivities," he answered, and Theon's head snapped towards him as he scowled.

"All because of that prick of a Prince?" he asked, and Jon looked around cautiously to see if any Lannister or Baratheon guard was near them to listen to this insolence.

"It has been weeks since he died," Theon complained, but he wondered if any semblance of time was enough to get over the loss of someone of such importance.

"Mind your tongue," Jon warned quickly as Theon scoffed.

"Or what? Will it offend that bitch queen," Theon spoke curtly, glancing towards the giant carriage that sat the Queen and the rest of the Royal children.

"If it was not for that we would already be in the capital," Theon complained.

"And I would be enjoying the warmth of a whore, rather than cutting and gathering wood," and the Carriage did indeed slow down their journey quite a lot, because it was the size of half a house and needed six horses just to draw it.

Though he wondered what Theon was complaining about. From what Jon knew, he had seen him vanishing into the woods with one of the castle maids several times, but the less he spoke of that, the better.

"Still, Cregan is a lucky bastard," Theon continued as Jon raised a brow, his lips thinning at the mention of his half-brother.

"He gets to ride with that bitch queen in that carriage while the rest of us have to slog away on our horses," and there was envy in that tone. Theon and Cregan had never seen eye to eye, and the relationship had worsened much after Cregan's return as Robb's attention was diverted towards his brother as he ignored Theon.

"I still cannot believe why Lord Stark would bring you with us, bastard," and Jon's gaze narrowed at the taunt.

"He left all of them back and yet brought you to the capital for some reason. I wonder why?" and Jon did not respond to his teasing, though he knew the reason well enough.

"Was it because the rest of your siblings could not stand..." but before Theon could say anymore, a guard walked up to them.

"Snow, Greyjoy, Lord Stark wants to see you both," and the both of them jumped to their feet as the man pointed towards the tent.

"Why?" Jon asked, as Desmond simply shrugged.

"I do not know yet, but he has called for all of you," and then the man led them to the King's tent, and Jon's eyes widened as he saw their father talking to a man clad in White armor of the Kingsguard.

He had not been part of the retinue that had come to Winterfell, but despite that Jon was quickly able to recognise the man, for that was just how famous he was.

"Is that..." he asked, nearly gasping as Desmond replied with a nod.

"Ser Barristan the Bold." Jon had grown up hearing tales about the man, and despite his age, he could feel his prowess as he talked with their father.

Barristan teh Bold was still one of the most skilled swordsman alive, a man who had slain the last of the Blackfyres and had won many tournies.

"Jon, Theon, you are here," Lord Stark turned to face them, and Jon was so lost in reverence that he missed Cregan standing there besides their father as he walked upto him.

"You summoned us, Lord Stark," he greeted, his eyes still focused on the older knight, who gave him a smile.

"I did, I want you meet Ser Barristan of the Kingsgaurd, he rode with a message from teh capital a few hours ago," their father introduced them to the man.

"You must be Theon greyjoy, Lord Stark's ward," the man asked Theon who perked up at that.

"Aye," and the man gave the Greyjoy heir a small nod before he turned towards him, as his smile dulled.

"And you are," he asked with a narrowed gaze.

"Jon, my lord. Jon Snow," and the man nodded at that.

"You must be Lord Stark's bastard," and Jon did not like that name, though there was no lie in them.

"He says you are rather good with the sword," and Jon saw their lord father smile as he nodded.

"Not as good as you, my lord," he added as the older man smiled.

"Not yet, but one you just might be. You have steel in your eyes," and at that, he turned towards their father.

"That one does," and their father nodded as the man walked away, as Lord Stark turned to face them.

"I wanted to tell you all that I will be riding ahead to the capital," he said, seeing Cregan's eyes widen as his brother quickly intervened.

"Take me with you fath..."

"I cannot," the man cut in before Cregan could finish.

"I will be riding fast and without any rest. You are still recovering from your injuries. You will ride with the Queen," he ordered before turning towards him and Theon.

"And you two will keep riding with the retinue. Do not make trouble for the men," he ordered as Jon nodded.

"But father, I have told you about the capi..." Cregan was not yet done.

"Cregan," the man turned towards the brown-haired boy and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I will be fine. It is just a few days, I need to make preparations for the Prince's funeral...."

0000

VARYS

The mood in the castle was somber as preparations were being made for the last rights of the young Prince Joffrey. Many mourned for the loss of the Prince, though to his own mind, they should be celebrating rather than mourning—for they had been saved from the boy who was perhaps the second coming of Aerys, the Mad himself.

Many still whispered about the Targaryen plot, and how the it was the disgruntled family, and their loyalists behind this attack, others whispered of Dorne and their treachery, yet few realised that the culprit of this death was far nearer than they realised.

The Mockingbird, and it was such a fitting animal for the man, given his precarious situation. And while Varys could not be sure, it seemed as if it had been him who had hired the bandits who had saved the realm from the cruelty of Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

Though he doubted that the Prince had been his intended target, however the fates had somehow intervened and the young Stark boy had managed to emerge from the conflict alive.

The Master of Coin had been rather nervous for a few days until word of the Royal Family's eventual departure had come, and Varys wondered what games the man was playing now, though he was not the only one playing games, was he?

Varys walked out of the castle and towards the just-opened gates and watched as a dozen men rode through the gates, holding banners of the Royal family, and one more—a grey direwolf on a blue field, the banner of House Stark.

And the men rode to the gates, as Varys stood there waiting until they all came to a halt, and one man jumped off of the horse. The years had changed the young man who had ridden into these very Halls for revenge after the Mad King had burnt his kin alive.

He wondered in that moment as he gave the man a bow.

"Welcome back to the capital, Lord Stark," he began, as the man's lips thinned, his face as emotionless and stoic as his own son, as he looked around the castle.

"Aye, it is good to see you, Lord Varys," the man said as he put forward his hand, as Varys straightened his back.

"We are all much saddened about the loss of Prince Joffrey," he continued softly as he saw those grey eyes glancing at him rather intensely.

"The whole castle mourns his loss," and the Warden of the North nodded as Varys led him into the castle.

"I believe the King would appreciate it more if you could point him towards the man responsible for this," and Varys's lips thinned.

"I am searching far and wide for the culprit as we speak and have kept your grace abreast about all my findings," he replied as he led the man into the Red Keep.

"The Targaryens," the man questioned sharply as Varys nodded.

"I highly doubt a boy and a girl would have been capable of this," and that was astute of the man.

"Well, there are many who would act on their behalf. The Targaryens ruled these lands for three hundred years. There must be many who yearn to see them return to these lands." The Warden of the North did not reply as they walked to the main yard.

"Should I lead you to your chambers, my lord?" he asked, and the new Hand of the King shook his head.

"No," he said as he slowed down.

"Take me to the Council Chambers. I wish to inspect the preparations for the funeral," he said, nodding.

"The Council has gathered in the chambers," and the man nodded as Varys led him to the Council Room, and the rest of the journey was quiet until they came upon the Council Room and the doors opened as Eddard Stark walked in, as everyone in the room rose to welcome him.

"Lord Stark," he was greeted by the young Master of Laws, who gave the man a firm nod as the Grand Maester added on in his feeble voice.

"Lord Stark, it has been quite some time. Quite some time indeed," and the Warden of the North returned the greetings, some with smiles, some with simple nods, until he came upon the man who may have just tried to kill his son.

"Lord Stark, it is good to have you with us in the capital," spoke the Master of Coin as he put forward his hand.

"We are much saddened by the loss of Prince Joffrey's life," he added, and Varys watched as the Northerner stared down at the Master of Coin as silence descended in the room.

"We all are saddened, but you need not worry. The young Prince will be given justice, and we will do everything we can to find the one's responsible for his death," the Warden of the North added, as his lips thinned, and he ignored the hand put forward by the Master of Coin as he walked towards his seat.

"I am rather tired from my journey, so let us get this underway at once," and Varys smiled as he saw the face of the Master of Coin flush with rage and humiliation as he took the seat besides him, as the Council Meeting began.

"Tell me of the preparations for the funeral?" and so the meeting began, and the Seven Kingdoms entered a new era.

0000

And a young Jojen Reed stood in a forest as a raven continued to circle him, and yet it was no ordinary raven.

"You underestimated him, and now he is out of your reach," the young boy added as the raven cawed loudly, as if in rage and frustration.

"You can keep trying to remove him and restore the song, but do know this that there are other powers at play here, powers that are no less dangerous than the ones that rule these lands," and it was as if he could talk with the raven.

"He knows the risks. He knows the responsibility and the dangers that come for us," the boy continued as the raven slowed down, descended, and sat down on the young boy's shoulder.

"Aegon's song is old and forgotten, yet the boy remembers it. He knows of the Song as well. He could be the one. He is the better choice," and the raven disapproved of those words as it pecked at the boy's cheek.

"He could tame it. Tame the hidden dragon and rewrite the song," the boy offered as he began to pet the raven.

"But for that, he must show that he is ready," and with that, the raven flew away.

"I wonder, when the time comes, what choice will you make, Cregan Stark...."

0000

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