Chapter 116: ' The Frosty Queen of Spices' Part II

POV: The Queen In The West-Continent

Solarium of the Lady of Barrowhall.

Moments after a Northern son defended his father's memory...

Barbrey felt an irrational hatred after those words.

They were similar to those spoken by that Bloody Demon six years earlier during their first meeting.

Sentences filled with reasons and legitimate motives for all the evil inflicted upon her.

Lady Dustin hated immensely that that selfish and senseless part of her was being stifled by compassion and rationality.

The Queen in the shadows closed her eyes and calmed her heartbeat with deep breaths. She had to at least acknowledge the bit of effort shown by the man before her.

"I apologize for my earlier outburst, King Eddard. I let hatred and selfishness take the floor. I wish no harm to Lord Rickard's soul or his son Brandon.

I hope they may have found peace and comfort among their loved ones and ancestors after all the suffering they have gone through.

I ask you to forget that untimely moment if you can." Finally, Barbrey bestowed a peace offering.

"It is already buried and forgotten by me, Lady Barbrey," and the Lord of Winterfell willingly accepted.

"I am... Brandon and Rickard's actions are forgotten. Now let us turn to those of Eddard of House Stark."

The North does not forget easily.

Ned stepped forward.

"I will not apologize for asking Lord William to accompany me that day...

He was one of my most trusted and best fighters in the North.

I did not order him to follow me south, but I did call on his help to find and rescue my sister. And he accepted without hesitation...

He was a good man, a great companion, and an honourable vassal." Eddard.

"And yet, you abandoned him there. The last descendant of a Northern House older than The Wall itself. A fellow soldier who had given his life for your family, despite the wrongs perpetrated upon his wife.

Lyanna deserved the honour of being buried in the crypts of Winterfell... So why? Why didn't William Dustin, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, Martin Cassel, and my cousin, Mark Ryswell, deserve the same honour?

Why did you leave them to rot under those godforsaken rocks more than two thousand miles away from Home?" Barbrey.

Ned lowered his gaze, full of regret and shame, downward.

After a few moments, he raised it again and replied.

"I have been trying for years to find a worthy answer to that question, and to this day, I have not seen it.

I could tell you that losing Lyanna also prevented me from thinking clearly at the time, but that would not be the reason...

Maybe it was just an act of weakness. But, after all that death and load of pain, a part of me just wanted to forget, to leave that burden behind.

A part of me still believes that that fight could have been avoided and all those lives spared.

Perhaps the return home with the remains of my friends and comrades seemed too much to bear.

A mere and shameful act of weakness. I have no more excuses to give.

I can only attempt to invoke your forgiveness, my lady. William, Theo, Martin, Ethan and Mark deserved better. They earned a better lord and commander than I.

The mistake was made, and that cannot be forgotten.

Tell me if there is anything I can do to make it right in even the slightest way. I will do all I can to repay this offence." The King in the North bent a knee to the ground, bowing his head in forgiveness.

'Yes, you have been. You were a weakling. And you are still a weakling, Stark!' That was the thought that Barbrey could not voice.

However weak a kneeling King might appear, the effort of will it took to display that scene of submission, guilt, and humility was not for the weak.

Only the best Kings would kneel at the appropriate time for the good of their people.

Torrhen Stark knelt to the Three-Headed Dragon, earning him forever 'The King Who Knelt'. Few remember that Aegon The Conqueror also took the swords of the Northmen, but they were never melted, bent, and used to make up what is now known as The Iron Throne.

With that act of sacrifice, the last King in the North saved thousands of lives from the wrath of the Dragons.

"You may rise, King Eddard Stark..." Barbrey stood up along with the man.

The lady walked over to one of the nightstands to get new cards and inkwells.

"After the wedding, my husband Jorah will assume the office of Lord of Barrowton and protector of the Barrowlands. The legacy of House Dustin will pass to House Mormont.

Lord Jorah Mormont will always be loyal to House Stark of Winterfell.

I will retire and devote myself to the complete management and preservation of the Never Winter Bank...

You will have the chance you seek, Eddard of House Stark, and my help."

End POV.

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POV: The King in the North

Solarium of the Lady of Barrowhall.

A few seconds after a King rose to his feet...

"I thank you, lady... Ser Barbrey Dustin, Knight in the service of the Old Gods and the First Men." Ned sat down after the woman's cordial nod of the hand.

A dark drape in the Quiet Wolf's heart began to slowly dissolve, giving more and more relief to his mind and spirit.

"Understand me, Your Grace. I chose to help you but have not collected what was promised." He had expected this. A few words could not erase years of suffering.

"What can House Stark do for you, my lady?" asked Ned, bracing himself for impact.

"The Never Winter Bank will finance House Stark's upcoming expenses up to a ceiling of five million. This is already a loan above our risk thresholds. In addition, the bank will have to guarantee all depositors a minimum annual interest of 4%.

By taking out the management costs, I can grant a facility up to and not below 4.5% annual interest." Barbrey.

"That sounds more than reasonable to me." Eddard.

"You've already met House Tallhart's master of coinage, Ronan, correct?"

"To my great pleasure, yes. A talented and diligent good fellow."

"And a genius with numbers. He'll be the one to draw up a smooth repayment system for both parties. So if you leave the administration of your finances in his hands, House Stark will have no regrets. Guaranteed.

After the inauguration, Ronan himself will fill the role of Chief Financial Officer of the Bank, and he will be given the task of managing the deposits and investments of all the Great Houses of the North." Barbrey.

"Two-thirds of Winterfell's future income will be placed in his hands. But in return for such generosity, my lady?" Ned.

"If called upon, House Stark will have to intervene militarily to foil any possible threat at Never Winter Bank locations in the Northern lands." Barbrey.

"Granted. What else?" Ned.

"I think you are aware of the 'secret' espionage and counter-espionage organization of House Tallhart, Your Grace." Ned nodded, showing a hint of disappointment.

"Well, from now on, House Tallhart's forces will move primarily to the lands of the West and Dorne, delegating the task in the North to my network. You will be given twelve of my trusted agents for your manor and another fifty for the rest of your lands. It would be easier for you to accept at least the head of the cell, thus facilitating the security of the North.

When House Stark releases Damascus steel armour and shields into the marketplace, countless threats invisible to you will swarm from worldwide to get any kind of information." Ned hesitated for a moment but then nodded.

Hell, he didn't even know who or how many Bloody Snow agents were currently in Winterfell! Espionage and counterintelligence weren't exactly elements he wanted to invest in.

The woman didn't seem to be done yet...

"What else?"

"One last humble request, Your Grace. It is time for you to know to which allied house House Tallhart has entrusted the monopoly on the blades and armaments of Damascus..."

'House Tallhart had also entrusted the weapons monopoly to another House? But who? Don't tell me he chose the Lannisters!' thought Ned urgently.

"To which House?" asked the man.

"House Bolton, Your Grace. Ser Duncan and Ser Domeric are very close...

A very fair trade for a House that holds its motto 'Our Blades are Sharp.' Don't you think, Your Grace? Ahaha."

"House Bolton?!" an alarm went off in Ned's mind. Although he had never had to distrust Roose Bolton, the Lord Bloodsucker still remained the last on his list among the great houses of the North to be entrusted with the most potent weapons in Westeros and Essos.

No, he needed to calm down. Ser Domeric was not his father. From what he remembered, that boy was sociable and well-liked by all the noble youth... Besides, he, too, was one of the fifteen green swords.

"I see... A good choice to further solidify the bond between all the Noble Houses of the North." Ned.

"And it is precisely on the bond that my last request is based.

House Ryswell has failed to forge a blood bond with House Stark; it is my wish that all past unresolved issues be settled once and for all, that as soon as she is of marriageable age, my nephew Domeric and your daughter Sansa be bound in marriage.

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It is in the best interest of all the North that Sword and Shield unite." Barbrey cast the last stone. The heaviest one of all.

Sansa...his little Sansa in Dreadfort? In the House of the Red Kings' descendants? Where it is rumoured that the fortress's secret crypts still hold human skin cloaks of the defeated Stark Kings?

Ned remained thinking and pondering, trying to shrug off all the disturbing legends that placed the offered candidate in a bad light.

He didn't know Ser Domeric well, but it was imperative for the good of his House that relations with the Shadow Queen of Westeros be ironclad and that House Stark have 'decision-making' power over Damascus Steel.

Soon Domeric Bolton would become the new golden bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms... He would be an excellent candidate. House Stark would also show union and respect for their vassals.

'My little princess isn't even four years old, and I already find myself offering her as a bargaining chip for the second time in less than a year... Cat... forgive me if you can.'

"If possible, I would first like a chance to speak with my probable future son-in-law.

I cannot return to the Lady of Winterfell without even being able to represent Sansa's future spouse."

End POV.

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POV: Bloody Snow

Solarium of the Lady of Barrowton.

Year 289 A.C. The eleventh day of the tenth moon.

About twelve days after an agreed-upon meeting...

"You have tortured the our poor King less than I thought.

Glad the matter was resolved as best as possible. Why is it fixed, right?" the boy asked for confirmation.

"Resolved and buried as far as House Stark is concerned. Now all that's left is the Citadel..." Barbrey replied, sipping gin.

It was late in the evening. The heir of The Watcher could not stay in Barrowton too long. At dawn, he would resume his journey to Winterfell, and from there, he and Benjen Stark and the welcoming procession of House Stark would make their way to White Harbor.

His master and the guests of the Confederation of Wizards would arrive within a fortnight.

"Patience, my lady. First the maesters in the North, then the West, Dorne, and finally the remaining four kingdoms. We must allow them to look but not see." Duncan recalled.

"Seven million gold dragons, eh? Did you really manage to convince Lord Tywin to invest a third of the treasure of Casterly Rock? You don't think that might be too bold a sum?" asked Lady Barbrey with a hint of concern.

"It would be too bold if Tywin did not play his part perfectly. But, fear not, my lady. The big show is already set.

It will be a bidding war. A mere display of power and influence between all the representatives of Houses and cities.

The Iron Bank will be forced to invest a large sum and finance its own competitor. Ahah, I can't wait to see the face of Tycho Nestoris when he shoots out loud an aggregate of at least seven zeros." So replied the boy, managing to wring a slightly amused grin from his counterpart.

"And Lord Leyton? Will House Hightower expose his financial holdings in front of everyone, in your opinion?" Barbrey.

"Mmm, the King in the Yellow will throw him a challenge, that's for sure. But I don't think he'll expose himself. In my opinion, the man will offer a sum less than House Tyrell and, afterwards, send one of his sons for a private meeting with you.

That is what I would do." Duncan.

"We're playing with wildfire-powered lanterns. One mistake, and we're doomed. Are you aware of that, Hero of the North?" The True Queen.

"We will be? So you have finally decided to fight by my side, oh my faithful ally?" Bloody Snow.

"You kept your word. And I will keep mine." The boy pulled out a letter written in the woman's handwriting in question.

"Mmm...just a reminder," the Queen cheekily downplayed.

"I would like to discuss this very 'reminder'... You know what I mean. I need to know... There are too many lives at stake, Barbrey," the ally insisted.

"What do you want me to say? You're the one who reopened that bolted and locked door." Barbrey.

"I didn't move heaven and earth to create a weakness in my most powerful ally. I did it because I believed and still believe that you and Jorah deserve to find happiness again.

What lies ahead is not a path a person can walk alone. It would be worth it to walk it if there wasn't someone to share the finish line with.

If we can survive to that day, we will all soon be family.

But you can no longer use Jorah as a means of threat. The war that looms over us will be the most terrible and fierce living memory.

The enemy will have no qualms about mercilessly striking at every possible pressure point to destroy us.

Jorah, Dacey, Domeric, our families, our comrades...none of them will be safe from here on out.

You know better than I how painful it is to lose those we love." Barbrey looked away, trying to suppress the strong, growing emotion.

"There's nothing worse..." the woman confirmed and then resumed the word.

"Will you continue to help me protect him?"

"Here's my proposal: I will do everything I can to help you protect those you love if you do the same for those I love.

And if all that isn't enough, and our common enemy succeeds in taking from us those we care about most, Comrade will do everything he can to rekindle a light in the darkest hour... What do you think?" Proposed the companion.

"Just turn on a light? What about revenge? Won't the ally help the companion claim righteous vengeance?" the ally.

"You offend me, my lady. I thought the matter was understated...

We are both Northmen, and The North Never Forgets." Barbrey's lips rippled slightly, forming a smile.

"Never... We have a deal, Bloody Snow." The two parties stood up, shaking hands.

"Who knows, maybe at the end of this whole thing, only House Mormont will come out intact and victorious. Ahahaha!... Huh?... Bad joke?" Duncan.

"No... Or rather, Yes. It was totally inappropriate, but that's not it...

Even though you managed to get all the allies you hoped to get, you fear that this is not enough isn't it?

Even if we manage to gain all the time and means hoped for, will it be the same? Don't you dare try to hide this from me? Reveal your thoughts." The boy's smile faded, and his face grew gloomy.

"Yes, I fear the possibility exists," the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms widened her eyes when she heard the answer and sensed for the first time ever traces of fear in the most monstrous being she had ever met.

"What makes you think that?" Barbrey asked urgently.

"... The more I enter into the truth known to few, the more I have the feeling that something continues to be out of tune in the Great Song of World History.

I still have no idea which notes are missing or in excess...

The Guardian of Beauty has confirmed this hypothesis of mine. Maybe he's the oldest being still alive in the World, and I'm sure that being is hiding something from me...

The thing that disturbs me the most is that he probably did it to safeguard the World he swore to guard or me.

It was as if he didn't think I was up to the task of bearing the colossal burden he held inside.

And that scares me, Barbrey."

The True Queen of Westeros kept her cool in the face of that shocking revelation. Instead, the ally took the helm and began to keep part of the pact she had just made.

"If you're afraid, it means the World is in good hands... Only suckers don't feel fear in the face of unknown dangers.

Information is the key. If this 'anomalous note' does not yet want to be revealed, it is vulnerable somehow and, for some reason, cannot yet act openly against the World's great powers.

If we stir the waters, the 'fish' will sooner or later be forced out." Bloody Snow found the same determined look he once had.

The mouth resumed smiling.

"Yes, you're right. Although it seems that this 'fish' as you call it is more of a dormant Leviathan. Stirring the waters, yes, but let's try not to wake him up too abruptly! Ahahaha!" A small inaudible laugh also came out of the Frosty Spice Queen's half-sealed lips.

"It's getting late. It is time for me to leave, 'my Queen'. Thank you for the warm hospitality and pleasant conversation. Good night." The boy bowed to the Queen, handing out the proper retirement etiquette.

"Wait..." called the Queen hesitantly, stopping the guest from taking his leave.

"Yes, my lady?" The boy turned with aroused curiosity.

"I... I haven't thanked you yet.

Thank you for everything, Ser Duncan."

End Chapter.

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