The bloody Pack

Chapter 30 – "The Crown and the Wolf"

The Red Keep had not been so restless in years. The tourney had passed, and so had the feast, but Cregan Stark remained in King's Landing. The court watched him closely. Some with admiration. Others with suspicion. But all with interest.

In the Small Council chamber, sunlight filtered through the high, narrow windows as the lords of the realm gathered once more.

King Robert Baratheon was unusually early, seated at the head of the long table, his hand curled around a goblet of wine though it was not yet midday. Jon Arryn sat at his right, composed as ever.

The others filed in—Stannis Baratheon, stone-faced and brooding; Renly, all smiles and polished elegance; Grand Maester Pycelle, wheezing as he settled into his seat; Varys in his lavender robes; and Petyr Baelish, deceptively relaxed, fingers steepled under his chin.

Robert wasted no time. "I've made a decision. I want Cregan Stark to remain in the capital."

The chamber stilled.

Stannis grunted. "In what capacity?"

"We'll find one," Robert replied. "He's fierce, clever, and honest. Too damn honest, maybe. But he shakes the room when he walks in. Gods know we need more men like that."

Renly leaned back. "He certainly caused a stir. Even his niece made more of an impression than half the court."

"Impression?" Baelish said with a smirk. "He humiliated me, offended Lord Rowan, and nearly scared Lord Gyles into a heart attack."

"So he's done more in a week than most do in a year," Robert replied dryly.

Jon Arryn cleared his throat. "He has ideas, Robert. He knows trade, infrastructure, and military discipline. His time in Essos gave him more experience than half the lords in this city. If we use his mind and muscle properly, he could help the realm."

"And who says he wants to stay?" Stannis asked.

"He doesn't," Jon replied. "But there are ways to encourage him."

Varys hummed. "The wolf walks alone... but he is not without loyalty. If we gain his, others in the North may be more willing to listen."

Pycelle frowned. "But can we trust such a man? He refuses southern customs, insults the Faith, and raises wolves like soldiers."

"He pays his debts, arms his men well, and feeds his lands," Jon countered. "More than I can say for many here."

"If he stays," Baelish said softly, "he becomes more than a guest. He becomes a presence. A power. And he will not play our games."

Robert grinned. "Good. I'm tired of these gods-damned games. Let him shake the court a bit."

Jon nodded once. "Then we need to approach the matter with care."

---

Later that day, in the Queen's solar, Cersei Lannister listened as her brother Jaime relayed the conversation.

Her golden brow furrowed. "He wants the Northern savage here? Permanently?"

"Looks like it," Jaime said, lounging by the wine table. "Robert was all smiles. Even Jon Arryn seemed pleased."

"He humiliated you. Mocked Joffrey. Tramples over every proper custom we hold."

"He also bested me in the joust. Let's not forget that," Jaime added, amused.

Cersei stood abruptly. "He's dangerous. Too blunt. Too proud. He doesn't bend."

"You mean he doesn't bow," Jaime replied.

"Same thing."

She marched down the corridors, found Robert finishing his meal, and said plainly, "I will not have that wild Stark remain in the capital."

Robert waved a chicken leg. "Then leave the capital."

She froze.

He added, less harshly, "He's good for the realm. And I like him. You don't need to."

Cersei's eyes narrowed. "He'll undermine us. He already has."

"Then win him over," Robert said with a smirk. "If you can."

---

That evening, Jon Arryn found himself in Lord Ned Stark's company. They walked the quiet halls of the Tower of the Hand, servants and shadows the only witnesses.

"Robert wants him here," Jon said finally.

Ned sighed. "He won't like it."

"But he would do it. If you asked."

Ned stopped. "Cregan is not a dog to be ordered."

"No. But he trusts you. He believes in the North. If he sees that his presence here strengthens the realm—and by extension, the North—he may consider it."

Ned looked out a narrow window toward the sunset. "He doesn't like the South. He doesn't like politics."

Jon Arryn smiled faintly. "Then he may be exactly what it needs."

---

Back in Stark's chambers in the guest wing, Cregan fed Shadow a haunch of meat as Lyanna bounced around the room chasing a moth.

"Uncle," she said between pounces, "will we stay here forever?"

Cregan snorted. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

But soon, he might not.

And even the wolf would have to choose where to howl next.

---

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