Game of Thrones Iron Stark

"Winter has already come," Ned said quietly.

King's Landing felt nothing like the North. The politics here were sharper, dirtier, and far more exhausting than any battlefield.

Tony leaned back in the heavy chair and poured himself a cup of wine. "Stannis agreed because I offered him something he couldn't refuse. I told him I could cure his daughter."

Catelyn's eyes widened. "Shireen?"

Ned nodded slowly. "Robert mentioned once that the girl had greyscale. I thought it was a death sentence."

"It usually is," Tony said. "But I've been working on it with an old friend from the Citadel. We've made real progress. I can reverse it. Give her back her face and her life."

Catelyn reached across the table and took his hand. "Tony, greyscale is terrifying. One touch and it spreads. Men turn to stone while they're still breathing. The smoke seas around Valyria are a graveyard for that reason. Sailors won't even go near them."

"I know the risks," Tony said gently. "But medicine has changed. I pushed the Citadel to build proper operating rooms. We have real antiseptics now—iodine, penicillin, strong painkillers instead of milk of the poppy. Some powerful families didn't like that. Highgarden lost money on poppy. Dorne lost customers for their poisons. That's why they tried to kill me. More than once."

Ned's face darkened. "You never told us."

"First time it happened I started learning how to fight. Last attempt was six months ago. A girl from Dorne. She was good. Almost good enough."

Catelyn squeezed his hand tighter. "And you still want to go treat the girl yourself?"

"I'm the best maester alive when it comes to this," Tony said without arrogance, just fact. "I can cure her. One hundred percent. After that, Stannis will let me mine every piece of dragonglass on Dragonstone."

Ned rubbed his face. "Then we go to the feast tonight. Stannis and Renly will both be there. We'll see what the king thinks about sending men north."

---

The royal feast was smaller than usual. Only the three great houses sat at the high table—Baratheon, Lannister, and Stark. The rest of the Small Council had been left out.

Renly smirked across the table at Tyrion. "Heard you went all the way to the Wall just to piss. Did it freeze your cock off?"

Tyrion raised his cup. "Not at all. I can still visit Littlefinger's brothels and go seven rounds in one night. Better than you've managed in years. My treat, if you're brave enough to try."

Renly's smile vanished. He turned away and said nothing else.

Stannis ate in silence, face like stone.

Robert suddenly barked Tony's name. "Tony! Get over here."

Tony set down his wine and stood. "Your Grace."

"You went to the Wall. Jaime gave me his report, but I want the truth from you. What the hell is actually happening up there?"

Tony didn't flinch. "Three problems. First, the Watch is full of criminals and thieves. Quality is shit. Second, they only have three castles still manned. The rest are abandoned. Third, the wildlings are moving in force. Something worse than wildlings is driving them."

Robert frowned. "So what do we do about it?"

Tony shrugged. "That's your decision, Your Grace. Or better yet—ask your Hand. He's also Warden of the North."

Every eye turned to Ned.

Ned met Robert's gaze without hesitation. "If you want the Wall reinforced, send men. The North will answer the call. I can order it done under my authority as Hand and Warden."

Robert leaned back, scowling. "Send men? Whose men? The Gold Cloaks? I'm not stripping King's Landing bare. And I'm not hiring foreign sellswords or Unsullied. That would make us look weak as piss."

He looked at Ned again. "You really think the North will march?"

"They will if I call them," Ned said quietly. "The North remembers its duty to the Wall."

Robert was quiet for a long moment. Then he gave a short, tired nod.

"Fine. Do it. Send your Northerners. Gods know nobody else will."

Tony caught Ned's eye across the table.

The first pieces were moving.