"Jon, do you need anything special for Arya's training?" Lord Eddard asked seriously. His daughter's future was at stake—he would spare no effort. "No matter what it is, even if I have to turn the entire North upside down, I'll find it for her."
Lady Catelyn immediately echoed, "Add House Tully to that promise. Whatever Arya needs, we'll get it for her."
Seeing the whole family so determined, Aedric simply shrugged. "I've already scoured King's Landing for months. Whatever could be found, I've found. The rest, I doubt exists anywhere in Westeros."
He paused before adding, "That's why I plan to take Arya east—across the Narrow Sea. The knowledge I'm teaching her originally came from that continent. Maybe we'll find what we need there."
"But…" Catelyn's voice trembled with worry.
Unlike his anxious wife, Ned—who believed in "tough lessons"—nodded in approval. "Catelyn," he said, gently holding her hand, "the children are grown. It's time they see the world. We must support them, not cage them."
"After all… winter is coming."
Yeah, there it was again. The family motto. Though no one quite knew how it fit this time.
Watching this exchange, the Stark children began urging their mother as well.
They weren't stupid. These mysterious arts of Aedric's could make a person a one-man army—a living legend.
If Arya could truly master them and pass them down within House Stark, they might never unify the Seven Kingdoms, but becoming the most powerful family in Westeros? That was entirely possible.
Visions of Valyria's long-lost splendor danced in their minds, and one by one, the Starks' hearts began to burn with ambition.
If Arya could bring that power home, then any price would be worth it.
Once travel plans were settled, Ned pulled two letters from his desk and handed them to Aedric. "There's another matter. These came from the two Baratheon brothers. You should read them."
Aedric opened Stannis's letter first. One glance was enough for him to snort in derision before tossing it aside.
Just like in the show—headstrong, rigid, and completely clueless.
Then he opened Renly's letter. To his mild surprise, things had deviated from the "original script."
This time, the "Queen of Thorns" wasn't planning to marry her granddaughter to the king. Instead, she wanted Margaery Tyrell to wed Robb Stark, the Young Wolf.
Smart woman. She'd seen where the true power lay—military might, not titles.
After a brief moment of thought, Aedric spoke. "The marriage alliance is fine. But we cannot support Renly's claim. The rules of succession are the foundation of noble stability. Break that, and chaos will follow. A mere 'King in the North' title isn't worth that risk."
"I agree," Ned said with a nod. "But if we reject Renly, won't that ruin our chances with Highgarden?"
"Why would it?" Aedric replied with a faint smile. "The Tyrells care about strength. As long as the North remains powerful, the marriage can proceed. As for Renly…"
He leaned back casually. "Let's just say… I doubt he'll live long enough to matter."
"You think Renly will lose?" Ned frowned.
Aedric met his gaze. "Uncle, do you think Stannis will ever give up his claim to the throne?"
Ned shook his head immediately.
"Exactly," Aedric said. "Neither brother will yield, yet there's only one Iron Throne. What do you think happens next?"
"You mean…" Robb hesitated. "The two Baratheon brothers will turn on each other? But King's Landing hasn't even fallen yet!"
Aedric smirked. "Judging by Stannis's letter, full of arrogance and impatience, he's not exactly the patient sort. And why, I wonder, is he so desperate to have me join him as one of his Kingsguard right now?"
Catelyn's eyes widened as the pieces clicked. "You mean… he wants you to assassinate Renly?"
"Exactly," Aedric said.
Even Catelyn understood now. "If Renly dies, Stannis becomes the sole Baratheon heir. And the only one in the Seven Kingdoms capable of killing a man so heavily guarded… is you, the Storm Sword Saint."
Aedric shook his head. "Even if I could, killing a high lord in secret—especially your own kin—would earn nothing but hatred. Stannis clearly hasn't thought that through."
In this world, noble rights were nearly absolute. Even traitors and kingslayers often escaped death—by joining the Night's Watch, or demanding a trial by combat.
Killing a lord wasn't impossible, but it had to be done openly—on the battlefield, in a duel, or in a formal judgment.
Just like when Aedric had declared his intent to kill in the royal hall—he'd given his foes a chance to face him, and that made it "honorable."
Murder in the dark, however, was another story.
Look at House Frey and their "Red Wedding." They broke the sacred guest right—and what followed?
They were reviled, hunted, and ultimately wiped out by Arya's poisoned vengeance.
Noble "rules" existed to protect noble privilege. Break them, and those same nobles would unite to destroy you.
Aedric couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Stannis, you really are determined to dig your own grave.
In the show, the man had actually used shadow magic to assassinate his brother—his own brother!
A great lord of the Seven Kingdoms, a Baratheon of Storm's End—killed by witchcraft.
If he could use such foul means once, who could trust he wouldn't do it again? Against other lords? Other families?
No wonder everyone turned on him.
A sword striking down is terrifying—but a sword unseen, always hovering near your neck?
That's far worse.
Aedric compared his own actions to Stannis's in the "show" and could only shake his head.
Like brother, like brother. Robert was a reckless brute—and Stannis was a rigid fool.
A purebred iron-headed idiot.
Ned sighed. "But Jon, surely you won't help him."
"Of course not," Aedric replied. "But even if I refuse, Stannis won't stop. If not me, he'll find someone else… someone from the shadows."
He paused, voice turning cold. "The Faceless Men."
The words hung heavy in the air, chilling everyone present. Even the mighty Starks shuddered at the thought of those silent killers from Braavos.
"Stannis can't afford them," Ned said after a tense moment. "The Faceless Men charge a king's ransom for a single kill."
"True," Aedric said, smiling faintly. "But the Iron Bank can."
He leaned forward. "This is a war for the throne. There's no turning back. And if Stannis thinks killing his brother secures his claim, he'll gladly sell his soul to the Iron Bank for the coin."
"Don't forget," he added, "how much debt King Robert left behind. If the elder brother could borrow freely, why not the younger?"
Ned's face darkened as realization dawned.
With a start, he rose to his feet, pacing rapidly. Then, with grim resolve, he said, "I must send word to Renly—warn him about the Faceless Men."
~~--------------------------
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