The Crippled Wolf: Stark SI (GOT)

Chapter 22

CREGAN STARK

It took much time to convince her mother and sister to leave his side. Both Sansa and his mother were insistent on staying by his side, as Maester Luwin went to treat the Princess at the King's behest.

Only when the old man returned and assured them of his recovery did they finally leave leaving him alone in his room to ponder and see.

Joffrey's death changed much, and neither was it all for worse nor was it all for the better. He had always known that Joffrey did not like him, though he had never really thought that the animosity between them had been aggravated to such an extent that he would try to kill him.

And had he really done this by himself or at someone else's behest? And if so, who? And Why?

There were a thousand questions in his mind, and he did not have answers. And now, with Joffrey's death, it had become neigh impossible to prove the Queen's infidelity because, from what he had managed to find out, she had much of the sympathy of the realm and the King.

To denounce her for infidelity at such a time would not work, given that the King would be far less inclined to believe their words because of his grief.

And there were the bandits? Their words, he still remembered them.

'Gold' they had come after him, for gold. There was only one person capable of this, and though he doubted their interrogations would lead them toward him, he had an inkling about just who was behind the attack.

Baelish.

This was his doing. Or was it?

And then there was Blood-raven, which part of all this was his doing. And why were his powers so much more potent here in the North? Why had he not been affected while he was in the South? What were his intentions?

Was it a war he sought? Or was it his death?

Still, he spent all night twisting and turning as all these thoughts ran around in his mind. His initial plan had all been wasted by this one attack, for with Joffrey's death, the Lannisters had both been strengthened and weakened at the same time. Because now Tommen was heir. Sweet and young Tommen, who was not prone to the idiocies of his elder brother.

Tommen was also much closer to him and Myrcella, unlike Joffrey, who was his mother's pet.

Now, the board had all been swept away, his advantage diminished to quite an extent, and Cregan wondered what he was to do now with it all changing.

The night passed slowly as he barely got much sleep. He continued to twist and turn in his bed until it was finally morning, and he heard the door to his room open once more.

He was alert in an instant until his eyes landed on the black furs around the man, and he recognized them instantly.

"Uncle Benjen," he greeted as the man walked into the room with a smile.

"Cregan, I thought you would be awake," he said as he walked in closed the door behind him, and sat down on the side of the bed.

"Yes, I couldn't sleep at all," Cregan replied as the man nodded.

"I wanted to see you before I left," and that surprised him.

"You are leaving," and the man nodded.

"Aye. I just came to meet the King to tell him of the Night's Watch's plights, and now with my mission complete, it is time for me to return," Cregan stilled as he remembered the fate that awaited him at the Wall.

"Will Jon be going with you?" he asked, and thankfully, the man shook his head.

"No," he answered as Cregan realized that things were changing, and they were changing rapidly. And if he were to save them all, then he must adapt as well.

"He is too young to take the vows of the Night's watch yet," Benjen added, and it was true.

"You are First Ranger aren't you?" Cregan questioned, and his uncle seemed to perk up at that. He nodded.

"Yes, I am. I venture beyond the Wall to fight and track the wildlings," he answered, though Cregan wondered if they were all he fought and found beyond the Wall. Did he know of the danger that lingered there? And if not, then should he tell him?

"Is that all you find there?" he asked, and he did not miss how his uncle stilled as he looked straight into his eyes. There was silence for some time before he broke it as he asked in barely a whisper.

"Why do you ask me that?" Cregan hesitated, his mind racing on what to say before he finally opened his mouth.

"Before I came here, Father executed a deserter from the Watch. Will, a ranger much like you," and he chose his words cautiously.

"Yes, he was a brave boy. Braver than most," Benjen added as Cregan nodded.

"Yet before he died, he spun a rather interesting tale about his last ranging, about his desertion..." and there it was, those grey eyes narrowed as Cregan continued.

"...about what he saw?" Cregan asked, and Benjen did not answer him before Cregan finally took a gamble.

"Father did not believe his words. He thought it to be a tale spun in desperation. But..."

"But?" Benjen asked as Cregan swallowed his own saliva to wet his mouth as he answered.

"I do," his eyes widened at his words, and the man did not say anything for a few seconds.

"I do not think he was lying, and I do not think that the Wall was made to keep out wildlings. No, it was created for a much greater purpose, a much graver purpose," Cregan finished, hoping that he had not just doomed himself.

But Benjen Stark was his family. His kin and he did not wish to see him die, not when there was an army of the dead marching towards them.

"Have you spoken of this to anyone else?" Benjen asked, and Cregan shook his head.

"Good. Do not," he said emphatically, making him frown.

"But..."

"Listen to me, Cregan," he said as he grabbed his shoulder tightly.

"The words you speak, I do not know how you learned about it all. But none will believe you, and if they hear them out of your mouth, they will call you mad and senseless. They would be wrong, but it would not matter," and he frowned.

"So, promise me. Promise that you will keep it all to yourself until the time is right. Promise me," he asked, and Cregan nodded.

"I promise," he replied as his uncle nodded.

"But I am right, aren't I?" he asked as the man rose up, and he gave him a subtle nod, confirming his suspicion that Benjen did indeed know of the white walkers.

"You are..."

"Then go into my room and open the trunk under my bed," he said, making the man frown.

"Is this about the gift you brought for me?" Cregan nodded.

"Yes, bring it here," the man nodded and walked out of his room, leaving him all alone until he walked back while holding a small sack.

"What is this?" he asked and Cregan pushed himself up to sit as he had him empty the sack on the table.

"A weapon to combat the white walkers," Cregan added, making the man's eyes widen before he reached inside and took out a dragon glass dagger.

"Dragonglass," he gasped as Cregan nodded.

"This was all I could obtain without raising much suspicions, but I know for a fact that this is amongst the only three weapons that are effective against the dead," he answered and Benjen nodded as he looked inside the sack and saw the rest of the weapons.

"Use them. Next time you go North of the wall, take them with you," Cregan asked, and the man nodded.

"I will, but the sack is only half full. Where are the rest of them?" he asked as he looked into his eyes and it was sharp of him to pick on that.

"I gave them away," he did not lie.

"To another man, one who had just as much need of them as you," and Benjen did not understand that.

"Who?" he asked, and Cregan hesitated, yet he answered nonetheless.

"The King Beyond the Wall...." at his words, Benjen's eyes widened as he sat down on the chair.

"How?" he gasped after minutes of silence.

"It does not matter how. But I believe that if we are to face this army of the dead, then we must make peace with the Wildlings," and Benjen shook his head.

"You have no idea what you are talking abo..."

"I do!" Cregan cut in emphatically as his uncle's head snapped towards him.

"It is the only way, uncle, for when it is time for the final battles, either the wildings will fight with us or against us," he tried to add.

"There are no sides to this war. None. There are only the living and the dead, and I would much rather make peace with the living than join the dead," he hoped the man would see reason.

"You are a Stark. The name carries weight. I know it is nearly impossible, but there has to be a way, and you must find it," and the man bit into his lip before he nodded.

"This has been quite illuminating," his uncle chuckled as he looked at his face.

"I will try," he said, and Cregan felt a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"That is all I ask," the man said, standing up and about to walk out when he spoke up once more.

"Won't you ask me how I know all this?" Cregan asked, and the man turned to look at him, his face grim and filled with pity.

"I saw many wonders when I ventured beyond the Wall and heard many a tales. Tales of skin changers, wargs and Greenseers— men and women who saw too much," he whispered as Cregan gulped nervously.

"I did not believe them at first, but now I do. And I pity you, Cregan, to be born with such a burden," he said, and Cregan nodded.

"I will keep your secret, just as I hope you would mine," and with that, he walked out of the room, leaving a much-tired Cregan in his wake as he lay there looking at the ceiling, thinking whether this entire gamble was a mistake or not.

0000

TYRION LANNISTER

The entire castle mourned the death of Prince Joffrey. Tyrion mourned as well, for as vile as the boy may have been, he was still a boy and his nephew. He was family.

The tension between the Lannisters and the Starks that had gripped the castle since that damnable day had lessened a bit, but only by a bit. And it still lingered as the men of the two families eyed each other with distrust.

And for good reason.

None were oblivious to the Queen's wild accusations against the second son of the Starks, and though few dismissed those words as the folley of a mother in mourning, they were not the words of a common woman.

No, those words had come out of the Queen's mouth, and though the King had ignored them as he did for most of his sister's words, a divide between the Starks and the Lannisters had been made, one he feared the marriage between Myrcella and Cregan would not heal.

The announcement for the match was made yesterday after the Maester confirmed that the young Stark boy's life was out of danger. It was a good match, not the best for a Princess, given that the boy was but a second son.

But it was good for Myrcella. The girl was rather fond of the boy and had been ever since he had arrived in the capital. And now, the boy had just saved her life—more accurately, the direwolf had, but it was the boy's direwolf and his quick thinking that had saved the Poor Myrcella from the clutches of the bandits that had taken Joffrey's life.

He was a good boy, honorable, and with a good head on his shoulder.

That is why he wondered why his siblings were so against the idea.

"I have heard that the King announced the match between Myrcella and the Stark boy yesterday?" he asked as he joined his brother for breakfast.

The Queen and her two children were still absent. They were all still mourning the loss of Prince Joffrey, and rightly so, for he was her son.

 Cersei was rather reluctant to let either Tommen or Myrcella out of her sight ever since that day, with Jamie guarding them himself all the time.

Jamie's grimace and pause told him what he thought of the match.

"A useless match, to marry the realm's only Princess to a crippled second son," Jamie scoffed as he ate the porridge while Tyrion ate the burnt bacon. His own brother had been much saddened by the death of Joffrey, for the boy was not just a Prince.

He was his nephew as well.

"I wouldn't quite agree," he answered, and Jamie finally looked up with a raised brow.

"The boy saved her life and is the son of the next Hand of the King. It is not as bad a match as you make it sound," and Jamie's eyes narrowed.

"He is a cripple. He will have never be a knight or a lord," and Tyrion drank a sip of the Northern ale.

"Ahh, there are many castles that are in need of a lord. Robert could make him one with the stroke of a pen; as for being a knight, I doubt a Southern knight would have done what he has, saving the Princess's life while risking your own. That is the kind of thing bards love to sing about, and the playwrights make little plays of," yet neither Cersei nor Jamie liked the boy.

Why?

From what he had learned of it, even Joffrey's death seemed too mysterious—the misfire, the bandits, and then the blame afterward.

It all seemed rather strange to him.

"Do you really think the Stark boy killed Joffrey?" he asked and Jamie stilled at his question before he looked up.

"Despite it not being announced, I doubt that the boy knew the King's intentions for him to marry Myrcella," Tyrion began as he spooned out some porridge and cleaned and emptied it into his mouth.

"He was to be Joffrey's kin soon? Why would he ever want to kill Joffrey?" he asked, and this was why he did not believe his sister's and Jamie's accusations.

"Jealousy," Jamie added, and Tyrion scoffed.

"Anyone who knows the boy would tell you that he cared little for Joffrey," and that was the truth.

"You are defending the boy," Jamie asked, his displeasure obvious in his tone.

"I am poking holes in your accusation, and I defend him only because I see what you and Cersei refuse to," and this time, his tone was far more serious, for in their misguided anger and frustration, both of his siblings were making a mistake, one that could one day come to haunt them.

"And what is that?" Jamie asked as he pushed away the bowl and leaned forward on the table.

"That someone has just tried to incite a war in this kingdom, has tried to pit House Lannister against House Stark," Tyrion added, and he doubted that Jamie was naive enough not to understand it with the truth facing him.

"I have heard that Robert interrogated one of the bandits himself and found that Joffrey was not even the target of the bandits," it had not surprised him at all.

Joffrey's death had always seemed a bit too incidental to him, and now it was becoming clearer and clearer exactly what had transpired in that forest.

"Then who was their target?" Jamie asked.

"Cregan was," he answered, and Jamie's eyes widened, and the surprise was real. And he was relieved internally, for he did know of Cersei's disapproval of the boy and had hoped that she was not naive enough to do such a thing.

And he also knew that Cersei would hardly do anything without speaking of it to Jamie, and if Jamie's surprise was genuine enough.

"And you know of this how?" Jamie asked, and he nodded.

"I am, I heard the entire tale from the gaoler's mouth itself. Someone had paid them gold to kill Cregan Stark, and if the Stark boy was to be killed, who would the Starks suspect first?" Tyrion asked, specifically about how Cersei was behaving.

"Who?" Jamie asked, and Tyrion rolled us.

"Us, brother. Us, the Lannisters," Tyrion added and saw Jamie's eyes widened.

"I see," and he finally understood the point.

"Joffrey's death was simple a mistake. A tragic coincidence," Tyrion added, he had not been much fond of his nephew, but still no mother should ever have to bury her young son like that. Let alone his own sister.

"I know that Cersei is suffering, and so are you. I am too. Joffrey was my nephew as much as he was yours," Tyrion added as Jamie's lips thinned as he nodded.

"But this was not the Stark's doing. No. This was someone else, someone who wishes to pit our two families against one another," Tyrion added, as Jamie raised a brow.

"What would you have her do?" he asked, as Tyrion smiled.

"Make peace with the Starks for some time and start being so obtuse to how your actions and words are perceived. Eddard Stark is a soldier. He will be bored with the politics and duties of being the Hand in a year or two at most and after than she can have Robert name someone else Hand," Tyrion added, for he did not know why his siblings continued to plot and rave against Cregan and the Starks, but knew well enough that their excuse of distraught at the demise of a nephew and son was running out.

The Starks may be forgiving and understanding for some time, and even King Robert seemed to be entertaining this nonsense for some time, but soon their patience would run out, and both Cersei and Jamie would have to answer for their words, so it would be best for them to mind what left their mouth.

It was already proven beyond doubt that Cregan was innocent, and yet they both continued to insist and plot against him for some reason.

"And what of the match between the boy and Myrcella? With Joffrey's death, the match becomes even more imbalanced," Tyrion shook his head at Jamie's question.

"I see no fault in it, but there is still much time in the match. Cregan and Myrcella will not wed until she has become a woman, which won't be for a few years at least. It can be changed anyhow until the two have not said their vows," Tyrion advised as Jamie smirked.

"You always were quite clever, brother," Jamie teased, and Tyrion shrugged.

"If only the Gods had given me your face, I would have been the best Lannister, but the Gods are fair. Cruel but fair," Jamie chuckled, and it was good to see his brother smile. Joffrey's death had made him dull and somber.

"You are a Lannister, Tyrion. We are the richest men in the Land," and Tyrion raised his cup as he looked into those eyes.

"Aye! That we are! And a Lannister always pays his debts," he said.

"And we shall pay them back a hundredfold for the death of Joffrey," Jamie added as they both drowned their cups and finished their breakfasts.

And when Jamie left, Tyrion could only hope that his sister was more amicable to Jamie's tongue than his own. It was why he had approached Jamie rather than Cersei, for he knew there was little love between them.

And then, as he was sitting there, he saw a rather interesting face walk into the Hall.

"Ahh, Lord Benjen Stark," he greeted the younger Stark brother, the one who had forsaken all the good things in life to join the Night's Watch.

"Lord Tyrion," the man greeted him as he saw down beside him as a serving girl came and asked him about the breakfast.

The man seemed troubled for some reason. Tyrion had hoped to visit the Wall, but after Joffrey's death he was forced to reconsider his commitment, but he was still interested.

"I have wanted to meet you for quite some time," Tyrion added, and the man raised a brow.

"And why is that?"

"I have always been fascinated by the Night's Watch. I had hoped to visit the Wall, but alas, Prince Joffreys' death has forced me to postpone this adventure," and the man's eyes narrowed.

"The Wall is no adventure. It is a duty," the man replied coldly, offended by his words.

"Of course, and yet it has stood tall for a thousand years. I find it rather fascinating. You have stayed there for more than a decade. You must have quite a few tales to tell," and with that, he reached into his pocket and took out the finest Arbor he had, and put it on the table.

"Perhaps I could tempt you to part with a few of them...."

0000

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