The Crippled Wolf: Stark SI (GOT)

Chapter 5

VARYS-The Master of Whisperers

The capital of a country was its power center, and it drew people to it like a moth to a flame. Smallfolk rushed towards it to share its perceived prosperity, and nobles came to get even a taste, a crum of power and influence.

King's Landing was no different, and the Red Keep drew thousands, if not hundreds, some hungry for gold, others hungry for power. Each and every one of them was oblivious to their own duties, as they engaged in petty games and politics as the people of the realm suffered.

It had been the same story during the reign of the Mad King Aerys, whose court was filled with incompetent lickspittles who laughed as the realm turned on them. And sadly, the same was true for the court of House Baratheon, much to his dismay. And their new monarch ate and drank and fucked, as the capital was beggared to the Lannisters, both monetarily and otherwise.

And yet, in all this, Varys found himself intrigued by a few people. Very few, and one rarely as young as the boy whom he walked beside.

Cregan Stark had come to the capital at the behest of the King after the Greyjoy rebellion, a lone and crippled wolf left to the mercy of the cutthroat capital, and yet the boy had been neigh invisible since his arrival. And to this day, the only thing that stood out about the boy was his quietness.

As expected, the king quickly lost interest in his charge and left him to the mercy of his Lord Hand, who had much else to take care of. And so, the young Stark found himself rather abandoned. Yet even in those times, the boy had leaned on no one else and preferred to vanish into the background, his true nature and intentions hidden from everyone to this day.

"You need not accompany me to the port, Lord Varys," the boy spoke quietly, as they strode through the streets, castle guards flanking them on the sides as two carriages carried his trunk behind them.

"Of course, I must. We cannot send our esteemed Northern guest back to his home without a proper farewell," he replied, and there was the hidden caution that stood out in the boy whose eyes always looked at them as if all his secrets lay bare infront of that sharp grey gaze.

"I am hardly a guest worth escorting. I doubt I will even be missed," and that was true for the most part.

"I doubt that" he cut in softly, making the boy raise a brow.

"The Princess Myrcella will surely miss your sagely lessons," and there was a hint of annoyance and indulgence in those eyes, for that was the only thing of character about the boy. And even in that, it was not his friendship with the Princess and the young Prince that was surprising, nor was the Queen's absolute detestation for such a connection.

No, what he found surprising was the boy's hesitation and reluctance in engaging in this presumable innocuous thing, showing that behind those grey eyes was a boy who saw and understood far more than half the people at court.

And if he saw and understood all that, then the question was just how much he really understood. How much did he really know?

"The Princess shall learn quite well from our Grand Maester," but not her brother. For despite the King's intentions, the bond between the young Stark boy and the Prince Joffrey he had hoped to nurture had never come to fruition.

There had been some jealousy at first, as the King gave much of his attention to his friend's son, and yet as that attention had vanished, so had that jealousy someway, and the Prince considered was too sure of himself to make friends with a cripple, while half the court dangled behind him.

"That she will, but still, she will miss you," and the boy nodded.

"That is still one person," the young boy retorted sharply as Varys raised a brow.

"Ahh, but you are forgetting quite a few others, Lord Tyrion for one. Me and even our Master of Coin, the Lord Baelish will be quite remiss to see you leave," and Varys closely observed the boy as he said that last name.

"I never thought of as friends, Lord Varys. We have not really talked much from what I can recall," the boy asked with a chuckle as Varys placed his hand on his chest and shook his head in pretense.

"You wound me, my lord, I thought of us as the best of friends," he replied softly, and in a way he did and the boy nodded, his eyes sharpening.

"Then I am honored that you think of me as such," and that was it, as Varys continued.

"And it is because of this friendship that I am telling you of the grave misfortune that our Master of Coins has suffered," and again, there was no change in the boy's expression at the mention of Lord Baelish, who was rather friendly with the boy.

Though he had quickly lost interest, the reason for which was probably how the young Stark took after his father's side of the family rather than his Tully mother in both looks and temperament, for in his years of stay, Varys had not heard of him frequenting the fine establishments operated by the esteemed Lord Petyr.

"And what grave misfortune was that?" the boy asked, and he found himself curious.

Was he wrong to suspect him? Was the boy truly innocent of the crime he suspected him off?

"A few days ago, the Lord found his coffers robbed. And though we do not know how much, but a large amount of coin was taken from the coffers and has not yet been found," and the boy's eyes widened at those words.

"Is that why he has been in such a sour mood?" and Varys shrugged.

"Indeed, and why I am here accompanying you to the docks rather than hi..." but before he could finish, their carriage stopped rather suddenly as the boy frowned.

"What is going on?" he asked as he turned towards the castle guard riding alongside him. The man in question moved forward as a Gold Cloak joined him, a captain of the Gold Cloaks.

One he knew was under their beloved Master of Coin's thumb.

"We need to search your carriage, my lord. King's orders," the man said, and for the first time, he saw the boy's face tighten.

"Do you know who I am?" the boy asked sharply, and there was steel in that tone as the guard gulped nervously.

"I do, Lord Stark. But it is procedure. I cannot let you get to the port without checking your luggage," the boy said, shaking his head as he turned towards the castle guard.

"I will not stand for this...."

"What is the harm in it?" he cut in softly and saw those grey eyes sharpen in his direction.

"Let them search through the luggage, so that we maybe on our way," he added as he raised a brow, the real question unsaid but not unheard.

"I thought you were my friend, Lord Varys," and he smiled as the boy reached for his cane and rose from his seat.

"Believe me, my lord, I am your friend," and it was the reason he had come here, because the amount of gold that had been robbed from their Master of Coin was rather substantial. And neither was this the first time that such a thing had happened.

Yet to this day, no culprit had been found, though for some reason Varys felt that the boy was somehow connected to this all, and so their little game just now as he followed after the boy who led the guards towards the carriage carrying the luggage, which was quite a lot for a young boy as him.

"So many trunks?" he asked.

"I am returning home after several years. I had to get gifts for everyone, and for all the name days and other celebrations I have missed over the years," and that was good of him, as the boy walked towards the trunks.

"Open them, and see them for yourself. But do know that both the King and the Master of Coin will hear of this insult," and that made the captain much nervous, but not enough to stop him from opening the trunks one by one.

And yet one after another, the trunks were opened, and they were filled—some with dresses, others with small trinkets, one with swords and armor, another with tomes and so froth.

But none with Gold. None. Much to his surprise.

He was wrong. The boy had nothing to do with the missing gold, but then who? Who had robbed their Master of Coin?

Was it really just a common criminal, or was there something larger afoot here?

Regardless, the boy stood there thundering and flushed in rage as the captain sweated profusely. The boy turned towards a castle guard and passed him a missive.

"My lord, there is no need for that. Forgive me for my overture, I beg..." and yet the young Stark boy was in no mood to listen.

"You can beg the King," the boy thundered as he turned towards him and smiled.

"Will you see to it that the missive reached the King, please, Lord Varys," and that was clever of him to specify the King.

Oh, the boy was petty and smart.

"As you wish, my lord," he acquiesced with a bow as the color vanished from that captain's face because, though the boy did not really take advantage of it, there was no doubt about the love the King bore him just for who his father was, and who he looked like.

That captain had just lost his position, if not his life.

"Then let us be on our way. We have wasted enough time," and with that, the boy walked towards the carriage once more, as they made for the docks where a trading Vessel bound for White Harbor was waiting for them, the captain had come down himself to receive the boy.

And so, the luggage was carried to the ship as Varys and the boy engaged in small talk. In the boy's tone, there was a hint of annoyance aimed at him. It seemed that the boy was not oblivious to his little ploy.

"Then let me be on my way, Lord Varys," the boy said as they finished loading his luggage, and Varys nodded.

"Of course, my lord. May your journey be more peaceful than it has been," and yet he could not let this remain, with the Lord Stark set to replace Lord Jon, the boy was set to be the guide for his father.

Well, he will just have to make it up to him for this.

Or not.

And with that, they parted ways. The young Stark boy walked to the vessel as Varys rode away. The boy in question turned to glance back at him and smirked before he vanished into the captain's chambers.

0000

CATELYN TULLY

Catelyn found some solace in the latest missive from her second son and felt relieved to learn that he was set to arrive earlier than expected because of fair winds and fortune.

"The Gods have blessed Cregan with fair weather. He will make port at White Harbor in a few days," she told her lord husband, who sat beside her reading a missive of his own.

"That is fortunate. I will have Jory and a few others depart for White Harbor to receive him. Maybe I should go myself," he added, but she shook her head.

"If you go, Lord Manderly will arrange a feast and then a tourney in your honor and delay the journey. Jory and the guards will do just fine," for she knew her son better than Eddard and understood how he longed to be home after so many years.

"And you still have to be here and prepare us for the arrival of the King," she added, and at that, he shook his head.

"That has been delayed once more. " This was the second time it had happened, and something told her it would happen again.

"Why?" she asked as he handed her his own missive. She saw that it was from the King himself, speaking of how they might be delayed by several moons.

"The Queen is having a special carriage built, which will take several moons," and that was expected of a woman like Cersei Lannister, who had grown up as the Jewel of the West.

"It is good then that Cregan did not wait for this," she added, and Eddard nodded.

"Indeed," but before she could say anything else, she found herself startled by a deep howl that was becoming quite a norm at the castle.

She was not the only one surprised as she looked up at her lord husband, who had begun this whole ordeal.

"I still cannot believe you let them have those wild beasts," and indeed wild beasts they were, and despite her protests, all her children and even that bastard now had dire wolves as pets.

They were but small pups at the moment, but they were ferocious and growing larger by the day.

"It felt the right thing to do, especially with how they were numbered. They are young, and if they train them well, the animal will be a good companion for them later on," she could hardly look at them, and yet even her youngest was mesmerized by the beast who would warm him by wrapping himself around him.

"Let us hope you are right," she said as she slid under the covers. Eddard put out the candle, and darkness enveloped the room.

.

.

.

Much further North, near the Wall that separated the North from the lands beyond a man climbed over the Wall near Long Barrow, trying to follow a plot inspired by a man who was his own predecessor in a way.

He was none other than Mance Rayder, the King beyond the Wall, but for the future, he would have a different name—Bael, after the man whose tale had inspired him, Bael the Bard.

0000

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