Petyr Baelish POV
What in the seven hells just happened? That little shit no more than eight years old, just won the archery contest. And to double my misery, I lost a hundred gold dragons betting against that bastard.
Why are the gods so unfair? I was born into a small, minor house, and he comes into the world as part of one of the most powerful families in the realm.
If only I'd been born an Arryn, I'd have Cat by my side now. She'd be carrying my children instead of that northern fool. Hoster Tully would never have refused my love for Cat if I was heir to the Eyrie.
"He won!" Yohn Royce shouted, cheering like a madman.
This annoying Arryn lapdog. Always sucking up to Jon. But don't worry one day I will sit on the Iron Throne with Cat beside me. One day I will have a crown over my head, and they will all kneel. Knowledge is power.
"I guess congratulations are in order, Lord Arryn. Not only do you now have two Valyrian steel swords, but because of that bet with the king, the Vale is exempt from all taxes to the crown for the next ten years. House Arryn coffers are about to overflow," I said, flattery thick in my voice.
Good. Once I begin my chaos across the realm, I will only need to kill you and your son. After that, Lysa will take over the Vale, and with her, I will control not only the region but also the vast wealth your son has inherited.
"My lord, it appears the royal family has left the stands," Yohn spoke.
Oh yes, the royal family. Just wait until I sit on the Iron Throne with one of your Valyrian swords in my hand, Cat beside me.
I can already imagine the cheers—Petyr, King of the Seven Kingdoms. Petyr the Conqueror. Petyr the Great. Dear Cat, don't worry. One day, you will belong to me.
"Lord Hand, His Highness the king was too drunk, fell asleep, and was taken to his chambers. The queen left in anger after the result. We request that you take over the ceremony and oversee the ending of the tourney," spoke one of the court officials who arrived breathless, clearly having rushed.
"Hah, it suits her well, bloody Lannisters," Yohn Royce muttered, not loudly but all four of us heard it, and perhaps a few people nearby as well.
He should be careful. There are spies everywhere, and the queen and the Lannisters do not take insults lightly.
But then again, This is exactly what I want. Let the noble houses hate each other, and I will quietly fuel the chaos.
"Yes, I will oversee the ending of the tourney," Jon Arryn said as he walked away, but before leaving, he looked back at Yohn.
"Lord Royce, I hope you do not throw insults at other great houses, especially in public," Jon Arryn instructed.
He's in a difficult spot. With the king spending freely, we've borrowed money from the Lannisters—not to mention my meddling in the crown's finances.
"Yes, my lord," Yohn agreed without protest, acknowledging his mistake.
If only he knew—while he busies himself with the realm's affairs, his wife is busy sucking the cock of the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.
POV ends.
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Artys Arryn POV.
"Congratulations, little lord. You have won the archery contest," Ser Jasper said flatly.
Oh, for God's sake, why are you so tense all the time? Be more cheerful. Enjoy yourself. Go fuck some whores, unlike Lyn who seems to have interest in men. I looked at him.
"What?" Lyn asked, confused by my facial expression, I guess.
Please don't mind me. I've never been pro-LGBT, but still why would men go for rods when there are holes to conquer?
"Nothing, Ser Lyn. It's just that you're looking beautiful today."
"Hah! I agree, little lord. I mean, look at his soft skin—it puts ladies across the Seven Kingdoms to shame. The Maiden in armor—Ser Lyn. Haaaa haaa!" Ser Robar Royce spoke, holding his stomach as he laughed.
Even Ser Jasper smiled. I mean, the Maiden in armor—hah! I even joined in the fun with Ser Royce.
"Oh, you bronze bitch. Why don't you come with me? I'll show you how soft my skin is—or how hard my muscles are," Lyn said, clearly annoyed by Ser Robar's jokes.
"I think that's enough," Ser Jasper said. As always, the knight of code and honor decided to put an end to our amusement.
"I suppose so. But I still say congratulations, my lord. Ten thousand gold dragons you just won ," Ser Robar said with a smiling face. They always do this around me: smile, joke. Well, I mean, I am technically their future boss, so it's expected.
"Don't forget the Valyrian steel sword," Ser Lyn said, holding his own Valyrian steel blade, Lady Forlorn. He and his obsession with his house's Valyrian sword.
"You all don't see the real prize, do you? The Vale doesn't have to pay any taxes to the crown for the next ten years," I decided to tell them about the true value of my victory.
"What that's not much? I mean, we do pay a lot in taxes to the crown, but the amount of taxes we pay to crown is not worth a single Valyrian steel sword," Ser Robar questioned, thinking clearly like a knight.
That's the point everyone is missing. The Vale doesn't have to pay taxes to the crown—and neither do I. The same goes for the businesses I will start. The Vale's current revenue is pathetic, trapped in a feudal way of making money.
It's time for a revolution and to show what people like me, a fucking capitalist do when left unchecked, or more precisely, untaxed.
"Where are those Essosi servants of yours, and those two new fools?" Ser Robar asked, noticing the absence of Soryn, Kaelen, and the others.
"Counting coins," I replied.
All of them looked confused by my answer. None of them knew I had ordered Soryn and the rest to open betting on my archery contest win.
Most people thought I would lose, so I figured why not milk some money out of them?
"Don't worry. I had Soryn open betting on me, and people probably made a bet that I would fail. They should have a mountain of coins by now," I said, a smirk creeping onto my face.
"I don't think that suits your station, my lord," Ser Jasper spoke with concern. His loyalty was to House Arryn—he was our knight, after all, perhaps the most loyal among Jon Arryn's men. He was exceptionally good with the sword, though not at Jaime Lannister's or Ser Barristan's level—just below that tier.
"It was for just fun, Ser Jasper. And do you really think I would openly do something like that? Soryn is betting under his own name, not using mine," I replied.
I wouldn't be stupid enough to open a bet and let everyone know I was behind it. Nobility doesn't get involved in trade and all that bullshit. Of course, the real players of the game would know Soryn was just a puppet—but appearances mattered.
"Alright, let's head back. I don't want to be surrounded by nobles and listen to their praises," I said as I started walking away. The three knights followed behind me.
"Why are you like this? No offense, but you don't behave like an average eight-year-old," Ser Robar asked.
That was a good question. The real answer was one I could never give. No one would believe I was from another world, and even if they did, they'd think I had gone mad.
"No offense taken, Ser Robar. As for my intelligence—let's just say I was born smart, unlike a few golden-haired shits," I said, thinking of Joffrey. I didn't know how his bitch of a mother would raise that poor boy—or maybe I was wrong.
Perhaps it wasn't the boy who needed help, but Cersei herself. After all, she never handled things well when they didn't go her way.
"Let's go. I'm quite hungry, and to celebrate today, we'll have a feast. It's on me," I said cheerfully.
I don't know what the birds are doing right now—especially that one-eyed one. I told them to recruit more birds. I wonder how that went.
POV ends.
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Five minutes later.
North of King's Landing, near a cliff, stood the one-eyed crow. Behind him were hundreds of ravens and crows, all standing in perfect lines.
The one-eyed raven's attention was fixed on the hundreds of dead ravens floating in the sea below. He took one final glance at them, then turned back to the assembled birds.
"Fellow brothers, I understand this was difficult. Some of them you may have known," he said in a calming tone. "But they chose their masters over the Emperor, and that left us no choice. Do not feel any guilt over it."
"Do you understand?" he shouted again. "Caw! Caw!"
"Yes, Lieutenant!" the ravens and crows replied in unison.
A raven came flying in and landed beside the one-eyed crow, raising his right wing in a salute.
"Private No. 21 reporting, Lieutenant!" the newly arrived raven reported.
"Lieutenant, the Emperor has won," Raven No. 21 spoke loudly enough for the others to hear.
"Well then, soldiers—tonight there will be a feast." the Lieutenant informed the ravens. Artys had already informed him of the victory, but ordered him to hold the news until official confirmation arrived. Cheers erupted among the birds.
"Glory to the Emperor!" the crows cried out.
The traitors who could have enjoyed the feast with them now drifted lifeless in the sea, destined to become food for the creatures of sea.