The morning light cut through the mist, casting long shadows across Harrenhal's courtyard. Althea strode forward with measured confidence, her mind already calculating the day's moves. The Black Stag had been partially exposed, yet a greater challenge awaited confronting the rival lord whose ambition threatened to destabilize her growing influence.
Lord Harden, a burly man from the Riverlands with more strength than cunning, had begun whispering rumors about her supposed allegiances and her influence over Peter. His goal was clear to undermine her position before she could establish herself fully.
Althea adjusted her cloak and entered the hall, eyes scanning the gathering of minor lords. Every glance, every subtle gesture was a test, a signal, a potential advantage.
She found Lord Harden near the council table, surrounded by a few sycophantic allies. His smile was polite, but his eyes were sharp, assessing.
"My lord," she said smoothly, approaching him with a slight bow, "I trust the morning finds you well?"
Harden's grin was tight. "Lady Althea. I see you are eager to make your presence known. I admire ambition in youth, but caution in its exercise is prudent."
Althea's gaze held steady. "Caution, yes, but indecision can be costly. The realm does not favor hesitation."
The lord stiffened. "And what do you propose, my lady?"
Althea's lips curved slightly. "Observation, first. Influence, later. And the careful choice of allies those whose loyalty is earned, not demanded."
Harden's smirk faltered. Good. The first cracks appear.
The council began shortly after. Althea noticed subtle shifts in body language a lord leaning forward to listen to her advice, a hand tightening around a goblet, eyes darting between her and Harden. Her first major political maneuver was unfolding.
A dispute arose regarding troop placement near Harrenhal's western borders. Lord Harden argued for a deployment favoring his holdings, ignoring strategic concerns for the castle itself.
Althea spoke calmly but firmly, "Strategic positioning ensures the safety of all, not just one lord. Misplaced ambition risks not only the castle but the realm itself."
Whispers rippled through the hall. Lords exchanged glances. Harden's face darkened, realizing the subtle undermining of his argument.
During the recess, Althea met Sansa in a quiet corridor.
"You handled Harden well," Nelly said softly, her voice carrying both admiration and caution. "But the game grows more dangerous. He will not forgive public correction."
Althea nodded. "Which is why subtlety is crucial. His pride can be used against him if guided carefully."
Nelly's gaze sharpened. "I trust you understand the stakes. One misstep, and the Black Stag or worse could strike."
Althea placed a hand on Nelly's shoulder. "We move together, or not at all. Allies in shadows, Nelly. And the first move is ours to control."
That evening, Althea enacted her maneuver. She invited Lord Harden to a private conversation under the guise of reconciliation, offering counsel and a minor "reward" for cooperation in court matters. The subtle flattery, paired with the promise of influence, was irresistible to his ego.
She carefully guided the conversation to gauge loyalty and reaction. Harden revealed his true intentions a desire to control a network of minor lords and establish dominance over Harrenhal's council. Althea concealed her knowledge, recording every word in her mind.
Information is power. Knowledge is advantage. And advantage is survival.
The feast that night was charged with tension. Althea moved through the hall, eyes observing every whisper, every glance, every gesture. She noted minor lords subtly signaling each other, forming alliances, and expressing suspicion.
The Black Stag remained cautious but increasingly exposed. Althea had planted small suggestions, leading spies to report back subtle movements and conversations. The web was tightening, threads aligning with her design.
During the feast, a minor skirmish of words erupted between Harden and another lord. Althea intervened deftly, redirecting the argument to highlight the risks of ambition unchecked by strategy. The room shifted in perception she was both mediator and strategist, a presence that demanded respect.
After the feast, Althea and nelly walked the castle ramparts, discussing the events of the day.
"You have begun to weave influence," Nelly said quietly. "But remember the Black Stag is patient. He waits for errors."
"I am aware," Althea replied. "But patience without action achieves nothing. I will act, and I will control the consequences."
Nelly's eyes softened slightly. "Then I will follow. Carefully."
Althea allowed herself a faint smile. Allies in the shadows. A foundation for greater power.
Late into the night, Althea studied her notes, letters, and observations. She planned her next moves further isolating the Black Stag, consolidating alliances, and subtly guiding Lord Harden's ambition to serve her ends. Every action would be calculated, every reaction observed.
Her dreams returned halls of mirrors, whispers of betrayal, visions of armies and shifting alliances. The Old Gods' voice echoed once more:
Power is a game of patience and precision, child. Every move matters. Every shadow holds consequence.
Althea pressed her hand to her chest. I will master the game. I will survive the shadows. And I will rise to claim my throne.
The halls of Harrenhal whispered around her, aware of a new strategist in play. Althea had struck the first real blow against her rival, solidified her alliance with Nelly, and begun maneuvering the pieces that would shape the court and her future.
The game was only beginning, but she was no longer a passive player. Every thread pulled, every word spoken, every secret revealed or concealed was now under her control.
And in the shadows, the Black Stag watched a threat growing, yes, but one she was ready to confront with both wit and will.