Chapter 6

The members of the small council were as usual gathered for a meeting for the 'welfare' of the people of Westeros. Surprisingly, a sober Robert was also present today and was drinking from his cup.

"Shit. This stuff is strong. A man's drink, like they say. So what are you waiting for? Just get on with it," Robert roared while Cersei sneered in disgust. The King had now become a fan of northern vodka and had stopped drinking wine.

"What reports do you have, Lord Varys?" asked Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. "Let us begin with Dorne."

The Spider tittered and said, "They are silent as usual, Lord Hand. They are still closed after the war. Their only connection is with Winterfell due to Lady Ashara Dayne."

Jon said, "Yes, that is understandable, given the unfortunate events of the war. Let it remain like that. Let us give them some more time."

"Just call the banners and attack them, and bring them into the realm by force. If it were my father, he would have done that by now," Cersei gave her expert opinion.

"It seems that Her Grace is keen to see Tywin the Old Lion sharing the fate of Daeron the Young Dragon," said Stannis.

Robert laughed out loudly. Jon internally chuckled and told Cersei, "Your Grace, the North and Dorne cannot be taken forcefully. Perhaps we must discuss a marriage alliance with the Martells, Your Grace."

Immediately, Cersei screamed, "Absolutely not. I will not have my children among those snakes. They should be thankful that they are still the ruling house of Dorne after the war."

Robert roared, "Stop screaming, woman. Nobody asked your opinion. You don't know anything about war. But I agree with her, Jon. There will be no royal alliance with those Martells."

Jon said, "Yes, Your Grace. What about the Reach, Lord Varys?"

"Everything is stable in the Reach, Your Grace. Even though Lord Mace Tyrell is the Lord of the Reach, it is Lady Olenna who is in charge," said Varys with a smile.

The Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, suddenly interrupted, "Your Grace, there is a request for a reduction in tax from the Reach Lords. They claim that their export of grains has decreased these days."

At that, Jon asked, "What is the state of the treasury, Baelish?"

Baelish smirked and replied, "We are currently in more than one million dragons' debt to the Iron Bank, Lord Hand."

"Tell them that their request is denied. And Petyr, please see how we can settle those debts," Jon told Baelish.

With a mocking smile, Baelish said, "I will try to the best of my abilities, Lord Hand."

"What else, Lord Varys?" Jon asked.

"There is discontent among the lords in the Stormlands, Your Grace. Lord Renly's occasional long absence seems to be the cause," Varys replied.

Cersei said, "Perhaps we should place a suitable regent for Renly if he cannot do his duty properly."

"Perhaps someone from your family, I assume," Stannis said, gritting his teeth.

Cersei sneered and was about to retort when Robert stopped them. "Stop bickering, you two. I will talk with Renly. What next?"

Varys said, "Nothing particular from the Crownlands or Westerlands, Your Grace. But there seems to be some discontent towards the Tullys in the Riverlands. It seems like the Reach, they are also not able to sell their food grains."

Jon said, "Your Grace, Hoster had requested the Crown's interference so that the North buys more food from them."

Robert roared, "Tell the Tullys to deal with the matter themselves. The North is prospering finally, and he is just angry that his blood is not ruling the North. He had the gall to request me to declare Ned's nephew a bastard."

Everyone shuddered at that memory. A few years ago, Hoster Tully had come to the King requesting him to declare Aryan a bastard, suggesting that there was no proof of his legitimacy. Robert had become so angry that he was just an inch away from killing him. They all had learned a lesson that day. Insulting a Stark in front of Robert was a dangerous thing, which they all had followed since then.

Quickly changing the subject, Varys continued his reports. "There seem to be a lot of activities in the Iron Islands. They are building new ships, Your Grace. My birds also tell me Lord Balon is holding meetings with his fellow lords."

At this, Robert and Stannis looked at each other. Robert said, "Keep an eye on them, Spider. I want to know what happens there immediately."

"Don't you think it would be prudent to inform the Reach, Westerlands, Riverlands, and North to be on alert, Your Grace?" Stannis asked.

"Yes. Do what he says, Pycelle," Robert told Grand Maester Pycelle.

Coughing and wheezing, he replied, "Yes, Your Grace."

"Anything from the North, Spider?" Robert asked, already feeling bored and getting drunk.

"Lord Eddard Cailstark, along with his family, had moved to Moat Cailin a few moons ago, Your Grace. Also, they had been blessed with a son, Rickon Cailstark," Varys said.

"Good old Ned. Seems like the quiet wolf is keeping Catelyn busy. There are more than enough Starks in the North these days," Robert smiled and said to Jon.

Nobody saw the forced smile and the hard eyes of Petyr Baelish.

"Also, the Manderlys' fleet has been completed, Your Grace. They are now building a fleet at the West Coast under Lord Benjen Seastark. The Northern Lords seem to highly respect Aryan Stark, Your Grace, as it is because of him the North is finally prospering," Varys said.

"The boy has not yet reached majority, Your Grace. If Ned cannot continue his regency, perhaps we should look for a replacement, Your Grace," Jon told Robert.

Before Cersei could say anything, Robert said, "The boy seems to be doing a good job there. Also, Ned had said that he is a bright lad. Honest people there, you know. They are even richer and also paying more tax than before. Isn't it, Littlefinger?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Baelish said.

"I agree, Your Grace. Lord Stark has so many ideas and theories that had my fellow Maesters at the Citadel impressed. Archmaester Marwyn has now become the official Maester of Winterfell," suddenly chimed in Pycelle in an energetic voice.

"Let the boy do his work. No need for any regency. Ned can take care if anything happens," Robert declared. "Now that Ned is nearer, perhaps I should visit him. It will be just like old times."

Cersei said, "Cailstark is your subject, Robert. Just command him to come here, and the wolf will come here running like a loyal dog."

Robert started getting angry. "Be quiet, woman. You will not tell me what I should do or not." Then, turning to Varys, he asked, "And what of the Dragonspawn?"

"They were last seen at Volantis, Your Grace. But they are proving difficult to keep track of," Varys said with a smile.

"Well put more men to it. I want them dead. I want all dragonspawns dead." Robert said angrily. "Anything else Jon."

Jon said, "The High Septon is concerned with the decreasing followers of faith in North, especially in White Harbor, Your Grace. A few septons were thrown out of Winterfell, he alleges. He wants you to do something as you are Defender of the Faith."

Before Robert could say anything, they were interrupted by a messenger saying, "Forgive me, Your Grace. The Ironborn have attacked, and Lannisport has been burnt."

Robert looked at Jon and said grimly, "Call the banners. Time to kill some squids. Dismissed."

Sitting in a room and reading new reports from his birds, Varys thought about the meeting. He had known that the Ironborn were going to attack but had delayed the information. His job was to weaken the Kingdoms of Westeros so that when the Dragons were ready, they could easily take over Westeros. If only Prince Rhaegar had not abducted Lyanna Stark, then the rebellion would not have happened, and they wouldn't be in this situation.

The relation between the Martells and the Starks had made things easier, and the recent changes in the North had also made things easier. It seemed that Lord Aryan Stark and Lord Eddard Cailstark had implemented many changes in the North. The once poor North was slowly becoming powerful. But he was also frustrated that he was not getting any concrete information from Winterfell.

He had been in this game for long. All others currently in the game were predictable, for he knew what they wanted. All wanted the Iron Throne. Cersei thought herself to be a player, but she was short-sighted, unlike Tywin, who was a better player than her but still predictable. Then there was the Queen of Thorns, but beyond the Reach, she was nothing. The Martells were quiet, but he suspected they wanted a marriage alliance with the Starks. The new Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, was proving to be troublesome, something he was keeping an eye on.

But this new player—Aryan Stark was an unpredictable one, and he would have felt a slight fear for the first time if not for Lady Ashara Dayne, the closest friend of Princess Elia Martell, the sister in all but blood. He would do what he always did—Wait and Watch. The Dragons would sit on the Iron Throne again.

A loud moan filled with pain echoed through the room while the sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room.

"Yes, my sweet Cat, my love. You are mine. Mine alone," roared the normally calm Littlefinger in a drunken state, as he fucked the red-headed whore below him, squeezing her neck. Her face was turning blue from lack of breath, and she was desperately struggling.

As he started to climax, he squeezed her even harder, and by the time he was finished, she lay still. 'The fifth one,' he thought. Whenever Cat gave birth to a new life, he used to take someone else's.

'Damn the Starks,' he cursed. The day he had lost to Brandon Stark in the duel, he had promised to eliminate all the Starks from the world. It was he who intercepted Lyanna's letter to the other Starks and started the rumors that the wolf-bitch was kidnapped. As expected, the impulsive Brandon Stark got killed while watching Rickard Stark burn—whose death was a bonus for him. He had hoped now he would get his Cat. But no, she was then married to Eddard Cailstark. He hoped Eddard would get killed in the war. But he didn't. Not only did he survive, but he also brought the spawn of Brandon Stark. And now the North was slowly prospering.

But he was a patient man. He had turned his attention to Cat's sister Lysa, who was always enamored with him. When he lay injured after the duel, she looked after him, and he had fucked her, imagining her to be his Cat. She got pregnant, and Hoster was angry. He expelled him out and gave Lysa moon tea to kill the child. Now she was married to Jon and still struggling to produce an heir for the Arryn, but she still loved Littlefinger. A few honeyed words and a good fuck sometimes, and she was now his puppet. Through her, he had slowly risen from an accountant at Gulltown to now the Master of Coin of Westeros. While slowly siphoning funds from Westeros, he was also becoming rich. Since it was he who paid the gold cloaks, they were also under his control. He had made Janos Slynt his trusted aide as the commander of the City Watch. Even though it had been only three years since his appointment, he had slowly become one of the most powerful men in King's Landing, even if the others did not know about it. Lysa's son, Robin Arryn, was also his bastard. He had plans for the boy—but in a few years.

'Chaos is a ladder,' he said to himself. Soon the time would come. A lie from him had led Westeros into war and chaos. He liked it. The Wolf, the Lion, the Stag—all would be at each other's throats, and Littlefinger would rise in that chaos. He smiled to himself.