Game of Thrones: StormBorn

The Master of Coin did not come to his study in the Red Keep very much.

Oh, he was there to fix his records, to make sure that they appeared spotless even to a thorough inspection, largely because they were completely full of lies. Transactions with merchants who didn't exist. Tax farmers with private contracts, the like. Fixing records only took so long, however, and his real business was conducted in dozens of smaller studies across the city, where he made sure that the crown took in huge amounts of money, and spent even more.

Still, he had come to his office on this day largely to get out of the city proper, the stench had begun bothering him, and the balcony here was seaward-facing. If he threw open the door the wind would keep the smell down, replace it with the salty ocean breeze off the Blackwater, which was infinitely preferable.

He eventually moved out onto the balcony, enjoying the late evening sun as it faded into the horizon behind him, the Red Keep casting it's great shadow out over the Blackwater Bay, keeping him, and all the seaward side of the building hidden in the darkness.

At first, the sails were merely a curiosity far away on the open water, a flicker in the distance. He was bored, his considerable intellect tired after a long and extremely profitable day.

He had some time ago collected a Myrish Eye from an Essosi sailor who couldn't pay his debts. An unfortunate fellow who now swam at the bottom of the bay. The brass mechanism was normally simply a decorative piece for his chambers here, but now, with his curiosity piqued, he used it to look upon those slowly growing sails in the far distance.

What he saw in them was power, a dozen great sheets carrying by far the largest ship he had ever seen, it's prow splitting the water like a greatsword, and it's whole form glowing with a ruddy orange in the light of the setting sun, like some fire-spewing demon.

It was clear who's ship it was. Everyone had heard of the knife ships of the greyscaled Baratheon child. They passed through King's landing regularly with their bright white sails and absurd speed, but this, this must have been one of the larger ships, the vessels that the spies on Dragonstone spoke of being built in their rare correspondences. If anything they had understated the scale. The sails on its mast towered over the sea like the battlements of a castle in and of itself.

The Merchant Princeling of Dragonstone was sending a message here, and he likely knew it as well. His vessel would dwarf every ship in the harbor, and with the Stags on the sails, it would be instantly recognizable. 'I bet the old Lion will throw a fit when he arrives.' Petyr chuckled. The man would see it as a clear threat to his bastard of a grandson, not that Tywin was even aware of his children's incestuous habits, at least not as far as Petyr could tell.

Still, the young stag was not his problem. Even if he wanted him gone there were too many eyes on the boy right now to act so carelessly, especially after most of the Council suspected he had been behind the attempted racketeering at the boy's office in the city. He hadn't been, of course, those men worked for the Queen, but he could hardly say that without revealing that he knew she also was running about behind the scenes. Something he was sure only Varys was also aware of on the Small Council.

The Spider was the only man that truly scared him in the city, well, he and perhaps Lord Stannis, who was no good at intrigue, but simply wielded a great degree of wealth and power. And now Tywin Lannister would be coming here as well, another man with wealth and power, but if rumors held far better at intrigue than the Lord of Dragonstone. No, Petyr would keep his head down until this whole tournament blew over. He didn't have enough power of his own just yet to step into the melee with the noble sorts. As always he would be helpful, courteous and meek, while his power grew ever greater behind the scenes.

'On that note.' he thought, pulling his arms through a blue satin vest and tossing his silver cape over his shoulder. 'perhaps the young Stag will be interested in a tour.'

It would certainly be interesting to see the boy in a brothel, he'd see if he shared his Uncle or his Father's temperament.

If nothing else, Petyr was sure it would make clear whether the boy was truly the prodigy he was known to be, or merely a puppet for his father or perhaps the Frey alchemist he was known to have hired as a boy.

'Yes… I think everyone in the city wants to know. Who is Arthur Baratheon really?'

(For those who think I profit of these stories I don't, lastly for the extra harded ones please use your last two brain cells and check the synopsis properly, and of those of my other stories and my bio) P.S I'm bored of shaming fun a first now boring tote stupid shit you will either not get a response or just blocked/deleted.