The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 8

Varys

The clanking of chains and the noise of steel being piled up could be heard as the remainder of the City Watch was stripped of their armor and marched down to the Mud gate. The Master of Whispers and Master of Coin respectively observed the spectacle from their position on the Red Keep’s battlements, watching as Stark men herded the old gold cloaks like prisoners.

The west barracks was already cleared out by the time they learned what was happening, with the east barracks receiving little warning before being pounced upon by Northmen loyal only to Lord Stark. Most of the men surrendered and threw down their arms willingly, refusing to go against the Hand’s orders.

Quite a few of them resisted in the east barracks, refusing go give up their prestigious positions in the city watch so easily. They were the ones who were corrupt, with most of them being loyal both to himself and Littlefinger. They barricaded themselves inside to buy time, and Littlefinger hastily rode out from the Red Keep to relieve them.

It was then that Varys began to realize what a monster Ned Stark was, or more accurately, the type of man his bastard nephew was.

Hadrian Snow, the new temporary Commander of the City Watch, ordered the barracks to be burned down with the holdouts still inside, all while having the building surrounded by crossbowmen. He didn’t just stop there, instead arming those gold cloaks who surrendered to him with clubs. He ordered those men to either kill or subdue anyone who tried to escape, forcing them to choose between either their corrupt comrades or loyalty to the crown.

It was an ingenious and ruthless ploy, one designed to root out any disloyalty that remained in the City Watch. Varys would almost commend Ned Stark and his nephew for such a move, if it didn’t hurt his influence over the City so much. He had informants and loyal men in the gold cloaks, after all, and now all of them were either dead or on their way to the Wall.

And that led to where he was now, standing beside one of his biggest rivals as they both watched the Red Keep’s own gold cloaks being cleared out. It was rare that moments like these took place, when two of the biggest players in the Game of Thrones reminisced in their own misfortune.

“I wonder if this is what it was like after the Dance.” Varys wondered out loud. “If Cregan Stark also took control of King’s Landing with such ease.”

They had never expected such an upending of the board. Sure, Lord Stark becoming the new Hand was going to ruffle some feathers, but no one imagined anything like this.

“Damn that man.” Baelish drank heavily beside him, reminding Varys more of their current King than their resident Master of Coin. “He can’t keep getting away with this!”

“I assume you had much of your resources invested in the City Watch?” Varys asked, already knowing the answer.

“That and more.” Baelish groused. “Now Stark has turned it into his own personal army, and given his bastard a free hand to do as he pleased.”

The Northern Lord had managed to sneak hundreds of men-at-arms into the city right under their nose. Most of which came from various smaller northern Houses no one had ever heard of, entering the city by the dozen every day before anyone realized what was happening.

Now the Hand had an army in the city that was loyal only to him, and Varys would be genuinely nervous about a coup taking place if Ned Stark wasn’t so closely tied to Robert Baratheon.

“A pity.” He sniffed. “Hopefully your brothels aren’t affected as well.”

“Don’t act as if you’re not affected by this either.” Baelish glared.

“Of course I am.” Vary grinned. “Just not as much as you.”

/////

Margaery Tyrell

“I’m telling you, my dear, you’ll have that boy Joffrey wrapped around your finger in no time.” Her Grandmother said as they sat in the carriage together. “The Starks have given us a great boon by having Robb Stark marry Princess Myrcella.”

“But why would they do that?” She asked. “Surely marrying the next King would be more advantageous?”

“Bah! Who knows what goes through the mind of those northern savages!” Olenna Tyrell dismissed her words. “I’m more concerned about what they’re scheming. The Starks aren’t known to play the Game of Thrones, and yet Ned Stark acts like a seasoned veteran if what we’ve heard is true.”

Their group learned more and more the closer they traveled to the capital. Merchants, knights, and other Lords they ran into from King’s Landing spoke of the current state of the city, their words unsettling to say the least.

‘The Second Hour of the Wolf’ as they were calling it now. Ned Stark had practically taken over King’s Landing, if the rumors were to be believed, ransacking the City Watch and even holding the Small Council hostage. King Robert, a man known to be lax when it came to governing, had seemingly given Lord Stark a free hand to do as he wished.

Her Grandmother always frowned heavily when such news was brought up, clearly perturbed about having her schemes interrupted by such developments. Margaery also felt off about the newfound developments, too used to the normal players in the game and not used to such radical upheavals.

Their carriage hadn’t moved for some time now, and a look out the window revealed the walls of King’s Landing in sight. She was starting to get tired of waiting, wondering just when they would enter the city, and Olenna was also becoming irritated.

“What is taking so long?” Her grandmother grumbled, opening a window to speak to the knights outside. “Why are we stopped?”

“There is a large queue to get into the city, my Lady.” Came the response.

“Then brush those commoners aside.” Olenna Tyrell demanded. “Even bribe the Gold Cloaks if you have to!”

“We tried that, my Lady.” Came the timid response. “Problem is, there’s several hundred northern men-at-arms in front of us, also waiting to get into the city. And not only that, but the city watch is being less than… forthcoming.”

That seemed to give her grandmother pause. “Northern men-at-arms you say? From which Houses?”

The men outside their carriage seemed to talk to one another before they came back with an answer. “Looks like House Umber, my Lady. We asked some of them, and they said they had to use this gate since soldiers from House Karstark already crowded another one.”

“There’s that many northern entering the city?” Margaery asked with a frown. From what she knew, most men from the North rarely traveled down past the Neck. But even then, to see so many northern soldiers entering the capital was unsettling to say the least.

“They must be here for the tourney.” Olenna said, yet frowned quizzically as if missing something.

Margaery pondered the subject before she thought of something. “If what I’ve heard is true, many of the Gold Cloaks have been removed, have they not?”

Along their journey to King’s Landing, many of the travelers they ran into coming from the city claimed that the City Watch had been reorganized. One of the merchants they met even claimed the gold cloaks’ barracks had been torched with the men still inside it, with the rest either executed or sent to The Wall.

Her grandmother’s eyes widened, recognizing her line of thought. “You mean to say that our new Lord Hand is replacing the entire City Watch with his own soldiers? A crude method to be sure, but one that will ensure his control over the city.”

Margaery felt her stomach stir in worry, and decided to change the subject. “How exactly are you planning to negotiate with the King for Joffrey to take my hand in marriage?”

“It will hardly be a negotiation, King Robert Baratheon has little other option but to have his boy wed you.” Olenna scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

“You misunderstand, Grandmother, I ask how you even plan to speak with the crown in the first place.” She clarified. “From what we’ve seen so far, it seems that Lord Stark is drastically increasing his influence, and he might not even permit us to meet with the Royal family in the first place.”

Olenna paused, seeming to consider her words before answering. “You are right, my dear, it seems this won’t be as cut and dry as we thought. In fact, it might mean we have to get close to Lord Stark before we can negotiate with the crown.”

“How would we do that?”

“I’ll likely have to speak with Ned Stark, and get a measure of the man. If need be, a few marriages between the Reach and the North can be arranged soften him up.” She said easily. “Either way, it is inevitable that you will wed the Prince, especially with such lackluster competition.”

Margaery wasn’t convinced. “You have too much confidence, Grandmother. Ladies from all over the realm are vying for the Prince’s hand in marriage. That’s not to mention we fought for the Targaryens in the last war, and even laid siege to King Robert’s ancestral home. Even if we’re not barred from the Red Keep because of our past loyalties, there will be the Dornish delegates to consider.”

“Hah! The Dornish! You really think the King would allow his heir to take a whore for a wife?” Olenna Tyrell scoffed. “If wasn’t already for Robert Baratheon’s hatred for Dorne, then it will be Cersei Lannister’s own resentment that prevents such a thing from happening!”

Even if what her Grandmother said was true, Margaery couldn’t help but feel otherwise. While she might be considered a beautiful maiden with a pretty face, a glance down at her body left much to be desired. Margaery Tyrell wasn’t exactly busty nor buxom like girls from Dorne were known to be, instead possessing a delicate figure that was considered more beautiful than seductive.

She knew she was attractive, certainly, but at a certain point men wanted big tits and a fat ass to enjoy in bed. Her only hope was that some Dornish bimbo didn’t come stumbling along to ruin her chances with Prince Joffrey.

/////

Arianne Martell

They travelled to King’s Landing at a blistering pace, and Arianne couldn’t help but feel the aches in her body that came from such harsh traveling. Even if she had spent the trip in the comfort of her carriage with her cousins, the incessant wobbling and jitters caused by the road annoyed her to no end.

That said, she knew a good fuck would see that taken care of. Already, she could spot some of her House’s men-at-arms eyeing her, and she did a good job of swaying her hips and arching her back to entice them further. Seducing men required little effort with a body like hers, after all, as every man wanted to feel her big tits and spank her fat ass.

The hard part would not be seducing a man to take her to bed, nor even finding one to meet her needs. Rather, it would be sneaking such a man past her uncle and into the comfort of her tent that would be the hard part.

This whole trip was another scheme of her father’s, Arianne knew that much. It was prompted by news of Lord Stark becoming the new Hand of the Usurper, along with the announcement of his heir marrying Princess Myrcella.

Her uncle explained that they were traveling to King’s Landing to get a read on the realm’s current situation, especially with Lord Stark now in power. Uncle Oberyn was planning to participate in the Hand’s tourney as well, but that still didn’t explain why they were making the trip north.

Arianne ponded all this as she relaxed at the edge of their campsite, trying to think through the twisted web of machinations her father had arranged. It was a fairly normal occurrence for her to try and figure out her father’s plans, seeing as they often included her in some fashion. But more often that not, it ended with her getting frustrated and having a headache.

It was as she stood there that she noticed something in the distance, being several knights riding their way carrying banners of purple. They led an exquisite carriage themed in purple and embellished with silver decorations, an item of immense expense that few outside the Great Houses could afford. But House Dayne was no ordinary House, being one of House Martell’s strongest bannermen, and it was their sigil marking the carriage along with the knights surrounding it.

Soon, Arianne stood beside her uncle in their camp as the carriage arrived, and then watched as one of the knights opened the door to it. The woman that exited it made even Arianne feel self conscious, and she immediately recognized the woman from descriptions she had heard over the years.

She was lithe yet sensual in a way the Princess of Dorne was not, with flowing curves and long dark hair that would make most women jealous. Her eyes were violet, similar to how she imagined the Targaryens in the stories, with noble facial features that were somehow seductive. Even at her older age, the woman in front of her possessed a beauty that none could match.

There was a reason Ashara Dayne was regarded as the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Arianne thought with some irritation. Still, better her than Cersei Lannister hold that title.

The woman in front of her was known to be very reclusive since the end of the Rebellion, prompting many a gossip and rumor over the years. Most believed that she was heartbroken from the loss of her brother, while others thought is was because she was scorned by Eddard Stark after bearing his bastard.

But even then she was regarded highly, a woman whose tales inspired little girls throughout Dorne. The sister of Arthur Dayne, the strongest member of the Kingsguard in history, as well as the personal Handmaiden of Elia Martell. There were even the infamous tales of her and Eddard Stark dancing at Harrenhal, and the tragic story of him going on to marry Catelyn Tully in her stead.

But what is she doing here? Arianne couldn’t help but wonder as the woman descended the steps of her carriage. Her eyes suddenly widened, realizing just what could prompt Ashara Dayne to leave her isolation after all these years. Is she traveling to King’s Landing as well?

/////

Hadrian Snow

The fake moaning of women and slapping of flesh could be heard as they made their way through the street of silk. More brothels than he could count passed them as they walked, each more depraved than the last, with a clientele that was better off behind bars than purchasing whores.

He was sure that the old members of the City Watch traversed this part of the city often, but not as protectors but rather as customers. A pity that most of those men would never touch a woman again in their lives, with them either being dead or rotting at the Wall.

And that brought him to why he was in this part of King’s Landing, being Petyr Baelish. The man used to be the poorest Lord in the Vale, and then miraculously rose high through the ranks of the King’s court to be the realm’s Master of Coin. It was a miracle and an inspirational tale to most, but to Harry it was suspicious.

It was a tale of greed and treachery, a lust for coin and power naked as day. And yet even when he rose to be on the small council, Petyr Baelish didn’t stop, instead quickly becoming the wealthiest businessman in King’s Landing with dozens of brothels in his possession. Harry wasn’t entirely why the man wanted to purchase so many whore houses, but he had a good idea just how he was able to do so.

The Crown couldn’t go several million gold dragons in debt from simple tourneys, and Harry vowed to find the answer. And he decided to start with Petyr Baelish first.

On his command, the new members of the City Watch kicked down doors as they broke into the various brothels, coincidentally interrupting the lewd actions of their inhabitants. Barely-dressed women and men were thrown onto the street, and in some cases carted off to cells when they resisted.

Men could lose their minds in lust, that much Harry knew, but that was no excuse to attack one of his gold cloaks.

From there came the investigation, with each brothel being stripped and searched of its belongings one by one. Furniture was thrown from windows and out onto the street, with walls and cupboards ripped open in the search for anything remotely incriminating.

“What is the meaning of this?!” A man demanded, running through the scene with a look of fury on his features. “Stop! I bid all of you, stop what you are doing!”

A burly Northman from the mountains hit him in the man in the stomach with his fist, before another restrained him. The thin man fell easily, clearly soft as grass, as just a minor strike rendered him nearly unconscious.

“That’s enough.” Harry ordered calmly, approaching the scene.

He expected the man to be a minor Lord of some kind, the type which visited brothels like these and probably got caught up in their raid. It was a surprise then that the exact man Harry was investigating happened to be right in front of him. Littlefinger.

“B-Brandon?” The thin man looked up at him with a dazed expression, as if not believing just who he was looking at. Petyr Baelish wore a fancy outfit that only those of the King’s court could get away with, along with a pin resembling some sort of strange bird on his turtleneck. Harry didn’t bother examining it, figuring it was some sort of fetish jewelry that southron Lords liked to wear.

“It’s Hadrian, actually.” He corrected. “Hadrian Snow, son of Brandon Stark, and temporary commander of the City Watch.”

“W-What is the meaning of this?” Petyr Baelish’s face was suddenly red with anger, as if his very identity enraged him.

“You’re under investigation, my Lord.” He let an irritating smirk grace his lips, pulling out the parchment that verified his orders. “As ordered by the Crown, your properties are to be searched and temporarily seized while we validate your assets. It turns out that some gold has been stolen from the crown, and a thorough investigation is being done as ordered by our Lord Hand. But do not worry, my Lord, I’m sure your brothels will be returned when we find the treasury’s missing gold.”

Harry savored the realization on Littlefinger’s face.

A/N: I was going to wait a bit longer before pinning Littlefinger against Hadrian, but decided to go ahead and kickstart that plot line, otherwise this chapter would’ve had too much filler for my liking.

On a side note, Margaery Tyrell was the winner of the vote, and she will be getting to know Harry soon