GOT Thor Travelling

The never-ending road finally came to an end. A good thing, because if it hadn't, I would have made sure there wouldn't be any King's Road left to travel.

Even a god needs his rest. I learned that firsthand. My back wasn't very happy after this almost month-long ride from Winterfell to King's Landing. And for what? To smell human shit rotting in the streets or to see human lives treated as nothing more than livestock?

A genuine anger was building inside me, and I could tell this wasn't just the Thor in me.

"What in Odin's name is this foul smell?" Arya crinkled her nose and covered her mouth without any dignity. Sansa was better, at least more ladylike in her approach.

"Stop doing that," I replied with a straight face, though it was hard to maintain my indifference. She was getting better at getting under my skin.

As their private bodyguard, I was with them almost all the time. Though this was nothing but a cover for my presence, according to Ned Stark, it didn't save me from Arya's endless ravings. I had to keep my horse mostly close to their cart to appear like a guard.

I could see Arya fidgeting constantly, annoying Sansa and Septa Mordane the entire way. Just like the Starks said, she had too much wolf blood in her to stand still for long.

The girl was cute, but I wasn't in a stage of my life where I could find her anything but annoying. Thor's +1500 years of experience didn't help in this regard.

Sansa was pleasant in comparison, if she wasn't peeking at me every two seconds when she thought I wasn't looking.

And that old Septa? Well, I had no idea what crime I committed, but she was glaring daggers at me like I had caught her and Lady Stark making out.

"Why does it smell like that?" Arya asked, and I ignored her with passion. Learned a quality-of-life lesson this past month—if I ignored her first few questions, she'd eventually get bored and leave me alone.

I turned my head away and saw the gates of King's Landing as we passed through them. Inside, the smell hit even harder.

"Come on, settle them in," Ned Stark got up and instructed the girls to come out of the cart and get settled. But before that could even happen, I saw a noble-looking man approaching him with a paper in hand.

'Looks like the game has already started.' I immediately dismounted my horse and made my way over, abandoning my fake guard duty the first chance I got.

"Lord Stark, there has been a Small Council meeting called. Your presence is requested," the man said, handing Ned the paper.

Ned Stark frowned. After a month of traveling, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. But duty called.

"Lead the way... I'll join."

"No, you won't." Just as Ned Stark spoke, he heard a voice from behind. That was me, of course. The messenger turned to see a tall, muscular man with blonde hair approaching. He had an imposing presence and carried a short hammer in his hands, unlike any weapon the messenger had ever seen.

"Excuse me?" Ned Stark sent a glare my way. Highlords, no matter how honorable—like Ned Stark here—don't like being defied.

But upon seeing that I wasn't backing down, staring him straight in the eye, Ned hesitated for a moment and that when I responded.

"The Hand of the King is tired. It's a long way from Winterfell to King's Landing. Tell the Council he'll join them once he's rested a little," I said directly to the messenger, much to his disbelief.

"Well? Go tell them," I deepened my voice and spoke with authority, nearly startling the man. Even Ned looked momentarily taken aback. The messenger immediately nodded and sped away.

"What are you doing?" Ned Stark's anger flared, but I had no intention of backing off.

"Exactly what you asked me to do—help you play the game. Here's the first rule: play it on your own terms. Don't listen to a damn thing others say—most of it will be lies. Get some rest and prepare your mind before heading to the council. You're going to need it." I held my gaze firm.

Ned had to admit that what I said was true, but making them wait like this didn't feel right. He was about to argue, but I was done here.

"Come on, girls, get up. Finding a decent-smelling room is not going to be any easier than the journey from Winterfell to here." I turned and started helping them. Ned was stunned to see me outright ignoring him.

Shaking his head, he just accepted it. He was quite tired himself, and the messenger had already gone. Resting for a bit wouldn't hurt.

Just as he was about to leave, he heard me speak from behind.

"And one more thing—in King's Landing, don't watch the mouths, Lord Stark. Watch the hands. What you hear will be vastly different from what really happens."

---

"Are you telling me the crown is three million in debt?" Ned Stark was shocked upon learning of the extravagant tourney his friend was planning in his name. But what shook him more was the actual state of the kingdom's finances.

"I'm telling you the crown is six million in debt," Petyr Baelish corrected with his usual smirk.

"How did this happen?" Ned asked, disbelief evident on his face. Only now did he realize how he would have reacted if he had gone to the Small Council meeting without taking a moment to rest first.

"It's the King's job to spend the money, while the Hand arranges it," Baelish replied.

"I refuse to believe Jon Arryn would have let this happen," Ned immediately defended the man who had been a father to him in all but blood.

"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I'm afraid His Grace doesn't always listen," Grand Maester Pycelle said with a weary tone.

"Counting coppers he calls it," Renly added with irritation.

Eddard Stark sighed. "I'll talk to him. The kingdom can't bear this expense..." He realized now that he truly needed to be prepared for these Small Council meetings.

Unlike in the books and TV series, the condition of the capital was more important to the North in this version. Stark's personal interests were tied to it—if he expected the capital to aid the North in times of trouble, he couldn't let things spiral out of control.

'Maybe I should get Thor involved. He seems to have a good grasp on ruling and administration. Only the Old Gods know how the capital will help the North in this condition,' Ned thought with irritation.

"One more thing, Lord Stark. King Robert has personally said to allow the man you brought with you to take part in the tourney," Varys said.

"What man?"

"The one who beat the Hound."

xxx

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