Brewing Schemes #49

Gale couldn't suppress a grimace as he exited the bustling camp, his breath forming frosty plumes in the frigid air. Just beyond the camp's boundary, he spotted Threya and Tormund waiting atop a snow-draped hill.

His irritation is evident-- Gale couldn't resist a grumble, accompanied by a pointed finger directed at the two wildling warriors. "Why in the hells is it the two of you again?" he complained, his tone laden with frustration. "At this point, I'd even take a Thenn escort over you."

Tormund responded with an exaggeratedly wounded look, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his faux indignation. "Taking the Thenn over us? That's a low blow, even for you." 

"Rayder reckoned that Threya and I were the least likely to slit your throat in your sleep, so he decided we should be your companions." He retorted, a mischievous grin gracing his weathered features.

"I distinctly remember this crazy cunt threatening to slit my throat not too long ago!" Gale complained, swiveling his irritated gaze toward Threya.

In response, Threya wore an innocent smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I didn't follow through on that, did I?" she countered, her tone mocking.

Gale huffed in exasperation, accepting his fate. "You know what? Fuck it," he conceded, his hand rubbing his forehead as if trying to dispel a burgeoning headache. "I won't waste any more of my precious energy arguing with you goat fuckers," he declared, scowling. 

"I'll simply regard your company as divine punishment for some terrible deed in my past life and be done with it," Gale stated, and with a last disgruntled sigh, he trudged ahead.

The trio of unlikely companions began their trek through the snowy wilderness toward the Wall, unaware of the owl circling over the sky, watching them intently.

...

Styr, the Magnar of the Thenn clan, stood with a looming presence in the snowy clearing, his enormous axe planted firmly in the ground. 

He watched intently as one of his fellow Thenns, a Warg with the ability to see through the eyes of animals, emerged from his trance. The man's eyes, which had previously been white, returned to their natural state.

"Well?" Styr inquired impatiently, his deep voice rumbling through the chilly air.

The kneeling Thenn Warg took a moment to regain his composure before responding. "The crow and his companions have left the camp," he reported. "They are headed toward the Wall."

Styr nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he said. "We'll give them an hour's head start, and then we'll follow their trail."

The Thenn warriors surrounding Styr dispersed, each preparing for the impending journey. However, one Thenn warrior, Gorak, remained and approached Styr with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"You are our Magnar, Styr, and I will follow your commands, but do you believe this is wise?" Gorak began, choosing his words very carefully. 

"We're up against Tormund and Threya, never mind going against Rayder's wishes, and if Tormund was even half honest about what the crow can do..." Gorak's words trailed off, his expression reflecting his unease.

"Wise or not, it must be done. The Night's Watch is not to be trusted. Rayder is too trusting. If we follow the young crow's wishes, he'll lead us to our doom." Styr declared, his tone resolute. "And even if the Night Watch truly intends to cooperate, they'll only use us as meatshields against the wights."

Gorak nodded in agreement, though he was clearly uneasy. "I understand as much," he said, his voice laced with concern. "But that doesn't change who we're up against. I'm sure there are more clans that might not be willing to work with the crows. We should take the time to gather more allies before making a hasty decision."

Styr's resolute demeanor remained unwavering. "You needn't fear the crow. The Giantsbane is known for spinning tall tales," he assured Gorak. "Even if the young crow is as the god Tormund makes him out to be, we have a dark deity of our own—one that despises crows even more than we do."

A malicious smirk crept onto Styr's features, sending shivers down Gorak's spine. 

The dread in his eyes was evident. "You don't mean... the Weeping Man?" Gorak inquired, his voice filled with apprehension, and Styr's subtle nod confirmed his suspicion.

"The Weeper knows nothing but slaughter... nothing good will come out of dealing with the likes of him," Gorak added, the mention of the Weeping Man causing him visible discomfort.

Styr's demeanor remained unshaken. "The Weeper will work with us if we show him our goodwill," he declared confidently. "The little crow we captured not long ago will make a great offering."

...

In King's Landing, Petyr Baelish entered the room with a polite smile, his gaze falling upon Cersei Lannister. "Greetings, Your Grace. I trust you are feeling well?" he said, maintaining a formal tone befitting the queen. 

Cersei Lannister, her emotions expertly concealed behind a mask of composure, responded, "The death of Lord Arryn, my king's dear friend, has been a shock... but I'm faring well." 

Her words carried an air of regal indifference. "Though I don't think you'd need to schedule a private meeting with me to discuss my well-being..." Cersei continued, her impatience thinly veiled. 

Lord Baelish's reputation as a shrewd and cunning individual left her with little desire for prolonged interaction. "What is it that you really want?" she inquired.

"I have no ulterior motives... I'm only here to make sure you are in good health..." Lord Baelish said, his smile taking on a shrewd quality. "The passing of Lord Arryn must have been quite shocking for you of all people, considering the matter he took it upon himself to investigate..." He continued, his eyes narrowing with intent.

Cersei's expression darkened at those words. "I have no idea what you're talking about..." She responded. "Pray tell, what matter did Lord Arryn look into, and what does it have to do with me specifically?" Her thoughts wandered to the consequences of having her guards burst into the room and deal with Baelish once and for all.

Lord Baelish's smile widened at her defiance. "I'm sure you know as well as I do... no, I imagine you'd know better—intimately so," he said, accompanied by a sly chuckle. 

Cersei's face contorted further, her anger becoming increasingly palpable with each word he spoke, and it seemed that she was a fraction of a second away from calling the guards and having them cut Lord Baelish down right then and there. 

Baelish noticed her reactions and quickly moved to assuage her anger. "Please don't misunderstand me, your grace..." he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You and I are of the same mind—some things are better left hidden, for everyone's sake..." He continued, his tone filled with understanding. 

"Why I even took it upon myself to ensure that this delicate matter would never again see the day of light,as much as Lord Arryn's passing pained me..." He meaningfully went on, his expression now reflecting regret.

Cersei's eyes narrowed, and her anger waned, leading her to abandon any thoughts of having Lord Baelish eliminated on the spot. While his death might help protect her secret, the repercussions would be significant. 

Furthermore, the fact that Baelish had now revealed a compromising secret of his own had leveled the playing field, creating an opportunity for negotiation, which was evidently what he had in mind.

Cersei leaned back into her seat, her expression guarded. "Let's assume that Lord Arryn was indeed meddling in a matter that would cause great distress, not only to myself but to many others as well," she calmly stated."What were your reasons for intervening?" She inquired.

"To avert a potential tragedy, your grace," Lord Baelish replied matter-of-factly. "I can't imagine that King Robert would react with restraint. His temper would lead to violence, and Lord Tywin Lannister would not remain idle either," he continued. 

"The Martells would undoubtedly throw their support behind Lord Tywin to avenge the tragedy that befell their kin during the Sack of King's Landing-- all the white the Greyjoys would be jumping in exitment, waiting for their own opportunity to start raiding our shores again.." he added. "This would escalate into an all-out war, and for what?"

With a scoff, he concluded. "A trivial matter, all things considered that shouldn't even be worthy of mention..." 

Cersei scoffed internally, fully aware that Lord Baelish was not a man driven by altruism but by personal gain. 

She decided to play along and respond with a veneer of courtesy. "Your concern for the realm is truly commendable," she said. "Such a heroic deed as protecting the peace my king worked so hard to achieve certainly deserves a fitting reward." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Lord Baelish's. 

"Tell me, Lord Baelish, what do you believe would be a suitable reward for your efforts in maintaining this delicate peace?" She inquired.

Lord Baelish feigned humility, his expression a mask of politeness. "I have no personal desires, Your Grace. I merely wish to fulfill my role and serve the realm to the best of my ability," he replied. "I only hope that we can work together to ensure the prosperity of the Seven Kingdoms." 

...

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