(Lord Osric Stark, Heir to Winterfell POV)
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He hated feasts.
But he had no way of getting out of this. Primarily because a) he was the heir to Winterfell, b) as the Heir to Winterfell he was expected to escort Princess Myrcella into the feast hall, c) even of not for a) or b) he was seen as the blessed one, so his absence from the start would not go unnoticed by the Northern Houses, and d) if he was able to not attend, then Arya and Rickon would try to as well. Honestly he could do without this whole affair if not for the fact he needed it to happen for his business.
Having the faceless men strike an accord was good business and when Osric founded his own bank, it would prevent the Iron Bank from being able to strike at him directly.
The Weirwood Bank.
But more on that later. Smalljon was trying to outdrink his father and the King, and Osric? Osric was simply trying to stay awake. He was bored out of his skull, which showed on his face. He'd done the traditional and expected Dances with Myrcella, the Queen, mother, and Sansa. He'd also danced with Wylla Manderly, Alys Karstark, and Dacey. But presently he was bored.
Balerion was too damn big to bring to bring into the Feast Hall with so many people present and even then that was stretching things. But more to the point, this was a feast which would last long into the night, and it was nearly time for his performane, just as soon as Tyrion arrives.
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There are some who are born distinguished
''There are some who are raised in praise
But me I was always the last in line
A blot in my father's gaze
No cheekbones chiselled on a feline face
No skill or savvy with a sword
But this game we all play is won in wily ways
And sly is this littlest lord
Cruel tricks of romance
Degraded by their spite
You snub your cub too many times
You just might feel his bite
Beware, beware of the words I twist
I am small but my reach is long
And the ravens black against the winter's mist
Are whispering the halfman's song
They're whispering the halfman's song
The land is a blooming orchard
With fruits so juicy and ripe
With a clink of a coin loose the lion's loin
Play a tune on the half man's pipe
In the arms of a whore I made a promise
Sinking deeper into danger every day
Cut through all their shit with a brazen wit
Molding puppets from their minds of clay
I'm no man of honor
Myself is my true king
But somewhere deep within me
The bells of conscience ring
Beware, beware of the words I twist
I am small but my reach is long
And the ravens black against the winter's mist
Are whispering the halfman's song
They're whispering the halfman's song
Whispering the halfman's song'' The crowd cheered as he finished, he didn't miss the scowls on the face of the Queen and Crown Shit, but this was his opening song, now it was time for the penultimate main event.
Jeyne and Sansa got to the harps and at his nod the bards began to play.
''When the wolves cry out
Echoes in the old walls
Distant are the calls
On the winter's wind
When the wolves cry out
Honour in the black bonds
Held in the beyond
As the lights they dim…''
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After his performances, the King announced that he had appointed Father as his Hand and Father accepted. It was now morning, and Osric raised his Bow and fired an arrow at the target dead center.
His bow was made of Weirwood, the same as his arrows. The tips were made of an alloy of Doonium, Adamantium, Vibranium, Meteorite Steel, Phrik, and Songsteel. They were Razor sharp. His great Longbow had been reinforced with Vibranium, Meteorite Steel, Songsteel, Dionesium, Isu Metal, Depleted Promethium, and Beskar with Lyrium-infused Ofiri runes. It never missed, no matter how inept the archer truly was. In the wrong hands - Joffrey's hands - this bow could end the world.
Which is why it had but one purpose….
Killing White Walkers.
The runes in the bow, when activated, would undo undeath and… honestly he hadn't activated them yet, not even the ones that weren't there specifically for killing White Walkers. He was waiting for the Crown Shit to make demands, and had his boys spread throughout the courtyard. Joffrey was accompanied by the Hound and a good ten to twelve Lannister Red Cloaks at any given time anyway, so odds were if they threw down the most the Crown Shit would get is soiled and muddy clothes.
He just had to wa-
''You there, Stark. Your Prince would have words with you.'' Bout time.
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(POV Shift: Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands)
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He surveyed the destruction before him. The Lannister guards strewn out across the ground beaten, battered, bruised, and bloodied. Not his Lannister Guards, or at least not the ones assigned to him. What was interesting was that Osric Stark and his friends were responsible and the Hound of all people had been beaten into submission.
''Lord Tywin, the price is now five million. Consider it a consequence of having such an arrogant grandson. This is not his domain, it is mine. You do not make demands of me and expect me to respect you and give you what you want for free.'' Osric said, spitting a glob of blood out of his mouth before turning to a servant. ''Make these sorry shits clean the mess up, and tell Clegane when he wakes up his first round is on me.'' The Stark heir chucks a small bag of coins to the servant before heading into his forge.
He had one question that would be answered.
What happened?
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From what Clegane and the guards who weren't hit so hard they were now useless told him. Joffrey demanded that the Stark Boy make him a sword. That the heir drop everything and do it then and there.
Stark declined on the basis that he had orders pending and his forge was currently cold. Before jokingly asking what Joffrey would pay him with.
To which his grandson apparently said Stark should be grateful for his patronage and give it to him free of charge.
Which is how it got started.
And how it ended was obvious. The one saving grace was that Joffrey hadn't disgraced himself too much by taking part in the fight and losing.
The King commanded him to accept the new price and disciplined the Crown Prince.
So he was now paying five million because his grandson didn't understand basic commerce or trade. Clearly he needed to have words with Pycelle to figure out how badly Joffrey's education actually was going.
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(POV Shift: Lord Osric Stark, Heir to Winterfell)
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He hadn't hit Joffrey, because that would make things worse for Sansa. But he was ninety percent sure the Crown Shit had shit himself, not that anyone else had really noticed, primarily on account of the fact that the Crown Cunt dived into the mud to avoid Smalljon tackling the Hound.
Honestly he loved the Great melees. Waymar had thrown one of the Guardsmen into the pigsty while Torrhen had gored one straight through a doorway. Theon, Harry, Brynden, and Robb had somehow ended up fighting through the Kitchens, while Larence, Osric, and the rest took the remaining guards down hard. Eventually they helped Smalljon pile on and beat up the Hound.
In the end though nobody was punished, Tywin wasn't happy of course. But on the plus side the King told the miserable old fuck to pay up. So it was now two and a half million up front and two when the job was done.
He wouldn't give Tywin the blade he'd planned to now. The Blade would be superior to Valyrian Steel, but it would be the bare minimum needed for a Masterwork but it wouldn't be of the same article as the True Masterwork being sent to the Northern Houses.
As the Lannisters wouldn't come to learn.
Osric wasn't stupid, but the price tag of five million would help him with expansion and it would also help with increasing production. As advanced as Planetos was, there hadn't really been any major technological discoveries or advancements. To that end, he planned to revolutionize warfare and also improve the North's way of life.
He'd also decided to claim the Iron Throne. When his bannerman declared him King in the North, he'd play for the Iron Throne. He was under no illusions that such a decision would be at all easy to make a reality, but he was confident. Confident his skills as a Smith and armorer would win them the battles.
And confident that Basilica would win them the war against the Lannisters and the War against the dead.
Now all that was left was to go hunting, he supposed. The King wanted to go hunting in the wolfswood, so why not?
After getting his heart pumping and blood flowing, a hunt was exactly what he needed to calm down.
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(Author's Note:)
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Fun little fact, that fight taking place when it did and the hunt now happening afterwards will cost Osric a little bit.
Not going to say how though.
Also I'm getting a lot of comments about what Basilica is. Answer is always going to be the same.
You'll find out when you find out, not sooner, not later.
Also someone commented recently about how stupid Osric is giving the Lannisters a blade superior to Valyrian Steel in exchange for a Lannister bride? I'm pretty sure it's blatantly obvious at this point he's marrying Margaery. Most of my characters usually do.
At the end of the day everyone is entitled to their opinion, but seriously read carefully before you comment something that is factually incorrect. Constructive Criticism Is one thing, factually incorrect criticism that is misleading and grammatically sore on the eyes is intolerable. If you're going to criticize me, do me a favor and be constructive. Don't be a dick about it.
Anyways, I was going to be more detailed with the great melee, but every time I tried to explain it in more detail it didn't work for one reason or another. So a small post-brawl explanation and small summary of the events had to suffice. I'll be working on chapter 1 of Star Wars: The Artificer or chapter 2 of DxD: The Artificer next before starting chapter 12 of this fic.
Until the next chapter, hope you have enjoyed this story thus far.
PS: Scammers take a hike and fuck off.
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