"Titles and Traps"

Chapter 32 – "Titles and Traps"

The throne room of the Red Keep echoed with the low murmur of political maneuverings. The tourney's thunder had faded, but the storm of power plays had only just begun. Within the solar of Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, a more quiet but consequential conversation was taking place.

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The Hand's Strategy

Jon Arryn sat opposite King Robert, a platter of wine and roast boar between them, though the old man barely touched his food.

"So, what position should we give the northern wolf?" Robert asked, licking grease from his fingers. "He's earned something more than just praise."

Jon steepled his fingers. "He's clever. Brash, but practical. His ideas about coin flow, taxation, and smuggling lanes are sound."

Robert leaned back. "Make him Master of Coin, then. Baelish is a snake."

Jon hesitated. "That might cause backlash. Lord Baelish has been... useful. And he's close to my wife's family."

Robert grunted. "So you'd rather keep the sneaky leech than put someone honest on the council?"

"We can offer Cregan more than one post," Jon said calmly. "Let him oversee the City Watch. Janos Slynt was named in a drunken blur and has been little more than a thug with a title. Cregan would clean the filth."

Robert chuckled. "A wolf cleaning the kennel. I like it."

"And a special post," Jon added. "Temporary. One with teeth. Allow him to oversee the royal finances with the Master of Coin. A check. A reformer."

Robert raised his brow. "So, you want the wolf in the council and the streets."

"He'll do more good from inside. And better him close, where we can keep watch, than let him return North and grow unchecked."

Robert gave a lazy nod. "Very well. But I want to be the one to tell him. The wolf needs to know the king appreciates him."

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A Proposal of Another Kind

The Queen was not pleased.

Cersei's lips were a tight line as she sat in her private solar, golden hair cascading over her shoulder like a veil of silk. Jaime stood nearby, arms crossed, observing his sister with caution.

"They want to elevate him," she snapped. "That barbarian. That... wolf."

Jaime said. "He's earned the court's favor."

"Then let's remind him of his place."

A letter was dispatched to Frosthall, bearing Lannister colors. A golden marriage offer—one of her younger cousins, a lady of good breeding and even better coin, proposed for the bold wolf.

The answer came swiftly.

> My Lady,

I received your generous offer of a lioness for this wolf. Regrettably, I must decline. I've no room in my hall for someone who jumps at the sight of snow or shrieks at a hunting hound. If I need someone to scream at shadows, I'll let my falcon do it.

Yours sincerely, still unmarried and happily so,

—Cregan Stark

Cersei tore the parchment in half.

"He dares mock me."

"He mocks everyone," Jaime muttered, hiding a smirk.

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Cregan's Reaction

The next day, Cregan entered the solar where Ned, Robb, and Jon Arryn waited.

"So, I'm to be given more collars," he said, dropping into a chair.

Jon Arryn met his gaze calmly. "Commander of the City Watch. A royal financial post to oversee reforms. And a permanent advisory seat on the Small Council."

Cregan whistled. "Why not name me King while you're at it?"

Robb grinned. "You're popular."

"No," Cregan said. "I'm useful. And wolves don't sit well in cages, even gilded ones."

"It's not a cage," Ned replied. "It's a stage. Use it wisely."

Cregan considered. Shadow thumped his tail at his feet, silent but steady.

"Fine. But I want three things: full control over the Watch, freedom to act with coin reforms, and I don't take orders from Littlefinger."

"Done," Jon Arryn said before Ned could interject.

Cregan raised a brow. "You sure you're a southern lord? That was awfully direct."

Jon gave a rare, thin smile. "I has experience with wilful people and wolves "

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The Game Unfolds

Littlefinger was less amused.

In the shadows of the Red Keep, he burned the second page of Cregan's mocking letter—one not sent, but copied by a court scribe.

"Mocking the Queen, embarrassing me, taking my reforms ,my power—" he whispered.

But he smiled.

"Let the wolf climb. The higher he goes, the harder he'll fall."

Baelish began writing again, this time with names. A list of men in the City Watch loyal to him. A second list—merchants, bankers, and spies. If the wolf thought he'd claim the city without resistance, he would soon learn that not all enemies wear armor.

But even as the quill scratched, somewhere beneath the Red Keep, Shadow growled low.

And in the city above, the game moved forward.

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