From Westeros to Essos : The Crusader King

<288 AC, Winterfell, Catelyn Stark nee Tully>

The young lord was nothing she imagined someone from the Vale to be, then again, her sister wrote to her that none of the lords seemed to like her. But even though she loves Lysa, Cat knows better than to listen to her rambling about not getting what she likes or wants as soon as she demands it.

Putting her sister's complaints to the back of her mind, Catelyn looked down at her youngest daughter and smiled. Her Arya was a little bundle of joy, one that was too energetic for her liking and if what Ned and Benjen said was true… by the seven, her baby daughter would be the second coming of Lyanna.

Then there was a man she prayed and hoped to forget, a man who almost forced himself on her. Petyr Baelish was an acquaintance, that much she could call him. It had been more than a few years since she saw him and she couldn't have been happier, until her sister sent her a letter from the man, making her believe that the boy, the bastard her husband had brought home for the south was actually to become the future lord Stark while her son, her Robb would become a small somewhere in the far north.

Who could have she been so foolish to believe the man, Cat didn't know. Were her sister's letters to her that involuntarily made her see the young babe as a threat? Or were the sweet words of that man? Once again, she didn't know, but one thing was certain, firstborn or not, Jon Snow was nothing but a sweet and innocent boy who loved his siblings and for the safety of her family and her love for them, she would raise the boy as her son: Family, Duty, Honor in that order.

As much as it pains her to admit, Lysa was a lost cause. Whatever Baelish lies found themselves in her ears, made her sister think the worst about everyone, her husband included, but what finally made her realize her mistakes was what Lord Yohn's son told her husband last night. It was a mistake, but she did overheard her husband's shocked shout coming from outside his solar.

"Are you sure, Andar? This… matter is not something heard in the seven kingdoms for decades!"

"Aye, Ned. I fear so. We fought them. Valemen turned into slavers, selling men and women of the Vale, King's Landing, and… wildings from north of the wall as slaves. House Baelish was a house of slavers, Ned."

"By the old gods… Jon would…"

"Lord Arryn would do what should be done. Slavery is a crime and nothing short of taking the head of that man would satisfy Tyrek and my desire for revenge! The fucking Littlefinger as he calls himself was the man who sent assassins after a boy, no older than three bloody name days old! Tell me Ned, should I just allow such a man to live?"

When she heard that, Cat cried, not for Baelish, but for the boy who was forced to flee his home, Lord Arryn's son, her sister's stepson, her own family was forced to flee and live on the run for years and the man responsible for that was poisoning her sister. Thank the seven she was not dumb enough to … harm Ned's firstborn son… otherwise, she wouldn't have found herself able to forgive herself. No, she would not be that kind of woman. Ned's nephew or not, Jon would be raised as her son as well once, he returns from the Dustins.

Just remembering the day Jon left in tears, Winterfell was more than enough to break her heart. Wiping the tears that fell on her face, Catelyn picked up some quill and parchment and decided to write a letter to her father. The sooner Lord Tully learns that his younger daughter is slowly being led down a path of no return, the sooner Lysa can be saved from that man's lies.

Hearing everything from the mouth of a young boy, the same as his daughter, made the Red Viper, realize that the so-called honorable lords were nothing more than monsters, then again, he shouldn't have been surprised, after all the Usurper knighted the Mountain.

Turning his head towards the tall savage man, Oberyn could swear the wilding was waiting for a chance, a chance to hack him in tiny pieces, just like he would do the mountain the day Dorne would get revenge for the death of Aegon Martell.

"Is there a problem, my prince?" For a second, Oberyn forgot the young boy who was seated across him.

"Well, young lord, your wild-looking guard seems to hate me for no apparent reason."

To his surprise, the future Lord Paramount of the Vale gave him a smile before nodding at his guard who left the room, but not before throwing him one last glance, one that he answered with a smile of his own.

Once only he, the young lord, and Tyrek Lannister were left in the room, Oberyn finally relaxed, to a certain degree at least, after all a boy who had seen war, lived, and even killed in one, was a person, the Red Viper would be careful around.

Just as he was about to start playing his little game, Oberyn saw the boy picking up his glass of juice.

"Tell me, my prince, what does a prince of Dorne do in this part of the world?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"That you could, my prince, but just like you, I am not forced to answer, am I right?"

Oberyn loved when someone was willing to play his little game and so, the Red Viper decided to change the subject to the assassins that hunted the young boy over the years to see how the young lord would react. He leaned forward and said in a low voice:

"Konrad, can I call you that? I have heard rumors that you have been the target of many attempts in your life. Some say that the Lannisters want you dead, others say that your father's new wife is not happy with your claim to the Vale. And some even whisper that the Targaryens loyalists have a hand in it. Is there any truth to these stories?"

The young lord looked at him with a calm expression, but Oberyn could see a hint of amusement in his eyes as the boy took a sip of his juice.

"My prince, you are well informed, but not entirely accurate. The Lannisters and I have a grudge from what I know. My father and his new wife, a woman whom I haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet as you already know no doubt, have nothing to fight for. My mother, may she rest in peace, was my father's wife and thus makes me the heir of house Arryn and future Lord Paramount of the Vale of Arryn. As for the loyalist houses… God knows they have other problems than hunting down a boy of almost eight-name days old."

The Prince of Dorne wasn't expecting this kind of response from the boy, then again, from what his brother and his contacts had told him, not even the spider little birds could come near the young lord of the Vale. Doran would like the boy, if not for his family, for his mind. Drinking some of his wine, Oberyn leaned back and looked at the boy's pale skin, white hair, and red eyes. Anyone even slightly learned knew that these features were not common among the Andals, nor the First Men, nor the Valyrians. While he had heard about this rare and not directly harmful disease, Oberyn knew the faith of seven would not look favorably at the boy. And so, the Red Viper decided to test the waters by striking the boy where he thought it would hurt, and that was the boy's appearance. He wanted to see how the boy would react, how he would defend himself, or if the boy would break down because of some words.

"So, tell me, Konrad, how do you cope with being an abomination in the eyes of the gods and men? How do you deal with the stares, the whispers, the insults, the threats? How do you live with being seen as a freak?" Oberyn asked as sarcastically as he could. In all honesty, he expected the boy to flinch or to cry and a small part of him even expected the boy to break. But once again, the young lord proved him wrong.

Instead, the young lord just looked at Oberyn, the same way Doran looked at him when his older brother was going to berate him for doing something stupid.

"I'm well aware of my looks, Prince Oberyn, and between the two of us, I don't care at all what the Septon say about me. For all I care, I could be immortalized as some kind of devil or demon from one of the seven hells."

Despite this, not something he would do often, Oberyn apologized sincerely for the first time in a good while.

"It seems I overstepped my bounderism Konra, and for that, I apologize."

Now it was Konrad's and Tyrek's time to be surprised by the sudden apology coming from the Red Viper himself.

"Well then, my young lord, considering that is getting late, would you agree to dine with me and my paramour later today?"

Being the master of whispers for a king whose only care was food, wine, whores and if the Targaryens were dead, was not as easy and safe as it might seem. Ever since, he informed the small council of what happened in Essos with Lord Hand's son, both the king and his Hand became somewhat… more like Lord Stannis to say the least. The king stopped drinking and even whoring while Lord Hand had sent no less than ten letters to the Vale, mostly to Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone.

Yet to his surprise, the one who was hit the worst by this revelation was none other than the current Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish—a man, whom Varys, would rather not be around. Even more ambitious than Aegon the Conqueror and someone who Varys knows for sure was as rotten as the Queen.

However, what he didn't understand was why Baelish reacted so badly. Sadly, for the Spider, his little birds were unable to approach Lord Konrad Arryn's men unless he was ready to risk their lives. As someone who lived most of his life here, the ex-king's guard, Tyrek Lannister learned how to deal with his little birds with ease, something that Varys didn't like.

And since he was not someone who would let an unknown variable risk everything he was striving for, Varys had sent some of his spies, the kind who worked in Baelish's brothels, especially the one where he usually spent his time the most, learning what the master of the coin was so angry about.

After more than a moon, since he delivered the grave news, Varys finally learned the reason as for why Baelish was so angry. His own men fought the young lord's men, and if that wasn't all, the Master of Coin lost a significant amount of gold in that battle as well.

As his little birds sing about the eldest son of Lord Royce sailing towards King's Landing, Varys decided that it would not hurt to help a little, after all the realm would prosper without Baelish's hand, or head hopefully, around the Iron throne's gold.

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