The North, Frosthold Keep, 294 AC, Seventh Moon
Four years had transformed Aerian Aurelius from a promising youth into a formidable young man. At eighteen, he stood tall and lean, his frame hardened by years of constant training with the Knights of the Round Table. His skill with a blade had surpassed even Sir Lancelot's expectations, and his bond with Kael had deepened to the point where man and beast moved as one entity in combat.
But Aerian's greatest weapon wasn't his sword; it was his mind.
He sat in his solar, now significantly expanded and filled with maps, ledgers, and correspondence from across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. A young woman stood before his desk, dressed in the simple clothes of a merchant's assistant, but her eyes held an intelligence that belied her modest appearance.
"Report," Aerian commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.
The woman, whose real name was Mira but who went by a dozen different aliases, bowed slightly. "My lord, our network in King's Landing reports that Queen Cersei's influence over the king continues to grow. Robert spends most of his time hunting, drinking, and whoring while she manages the small council through proxies."
Aerian nodded, unsurprised. "And the Hand?"
"Lord Jon Arryn remains dutiful, but our sources indicate he's been investigating something. He's been asking questions about King Robert's children, visiting brothels, and speaking with Lord Stannis frequently."
'He's discovering the truth about Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen,' Aerian thought, his expression remaining neutral. 'Four more years until he dies for that knowledge.'
"Keep close watch on Lord Arryn," Aerian instructed. "I want to know everyone he speaks to and everything he investigates. What of the other networks?"
Mira consulted a small leather-bound journal. "In the Reach, our contacts report that Lady Olenna Tyrell has taken personal interest in our trade ventures. She's been asking questions about House Aurelius and its young lord. Additionally, Margaery Tyrell, now twelve years old, has been educated extensively in politics, music, and courtly arts. The rumors suggest Lady Olenna is grooming her for something significant."
A small smile crossed Aerian's face. "The Queen of Thorns is always planning something. What else?"
"In Dorne, Princess Arianne has... acquired a reputation. Our sources report multiple lovers, including a bastard knight named Daemon Sand. Prince Doran appears to disapprove but takes no action to stop her. Prince Oberyn, on the other hand, seems amused by his niece's behavior."
Aerian's smile faded. There it was, confirmation of what he'd suspected. Arianne Martell was living up to her canon characterization, embracing Dorne's sexual freedom with enthusiasm. While he didn't judge her for it morally, politically, it was a disaster for the betrothal arrangement.
"Interesting," Aerian said neutrally. "Continue monitoring the situation. What of the Lannisters?"
"Lord Tywin remains at Casterly Rock, but he maintains extensive correspondence with Queen Cersei. Jaime Lannister serves dutifully in the Kingsguard, though there are... rumors about his relationship with the queen."
"Rumors that are true," Aerian said quietly. "But that information is to be held close. No one outside this room learns of it until I decide otherwise."
Mira's eyes widened slightly. This was the first time Aerian had confirmed such dangerous intelligence. "As you command, my lord."
"What of the North?"
"Lord Stark's children grow well. Robb Stark, now eleven, shows promise as a warrior and leader. Jon Snow, the bastard, trains alongside him and is said to be equally skilled. The girl, Sansa, dreams of southern knights and courtly romance. Arya is... problematic for Lord Stark, preferring swords to needlework."
Aerian couldn't help but feel a pang of something, not quite sympathy, but understanding. He knew the fates that awaited these children. Robb would die at the Twins. Jon would join the Night's Watch and discover his true heritage. Sansa would suffer in King's Landing. Arya would become an assassin.
'Unless I change things,' he thought. 'Unless I'm clever enough to save some of them without destroying my own plans.'
"That will be all, Mira," Aerian said. "You've done excellent work. Take this." He handed her a purse heavy with silver. "For you and your network. Keep the information flowing."
Mira bowed and departed, leaving Aerian alone with his thoughts.
-------------------------------------------
The intelligence network had been one of Aerian's most crucial investments over the past four years. Inspired by Varys's spider network but built on the foundation of his trade empire, Aerian had carefully recruited merchants, servants, artisans, and even prostitutes throughout Westeros. They reported to regional handlers, who in turn reported to Aerian directly.
The information they provided was invaluable. Aerian knew which lords were in debt, which marriages were unhappy, which knights were ambitious, and which merchants could be bought. He knew secrets that would destroy houses and information that could forge alliances.
But he was careful—cautious—about how he used that information. Unlike Varys, who played multiple sides against each other, Aerian used his intelligence primarily for defense and for identifying opportunities. He didn't blackmail lords or manipulate politics directly. Not yet, anyway.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter."
His father stepped inside, followed by Maester Thalric and Sir Lancelot. Tharren, now in his early fifties, had aged gracefully, though grey streaked his hair and beard. He looked at his son with a mixture of pride and concern.
"Aerian, we need to discuss the Dorne situation," Tharren began, taking a seat across from his son.
Aerian gestured for the others to sit as well. "I assume you've heard the same reports I have about Princess Arianne?"
Tharren nodded grimly. "Multiple lovers, public indiscretions, and a general disregard for the betrothal arrangement. Prince Doran sent a letter attempting to explain it away as youthful exuberance, but..." He trailed off, clearly troubled.
"But it's unacceptable for a future Lady of House Aurelius," Aerian finished. "The Northern lords would never respect her, and her behavior would undermine our house's reputation."
"Exactly," Tharren agreed. "I know the trade alliance has been profitable, but—"
"But we cannot sacrifice our house's future for the sake of political courtesy," Aerian interjected. "I agree, Father. The betrothal should be dissolved."
Maester Thalric cleared his throat nervously. "My lords, breaking a betrothal, especially one with a Great House like Martell, could have serious political consequences. Prince Doran may see it as an insult."
"Then we'll need to be diplomatic about it," Aerian said calmly. "We'll frame it as incompatibility rather than an insult. We'll emphasize our continued trade partnership and friendship with Dorne. And we'll do it before Arianne reaches marriageable age, so she has time to find another suitable match."
Sir Lancelot spoke up. "And what of your own marriage prospects, young lord? You're eighteen now. Most lords your age are already betrothed or married."
Aerian leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought. "I've been considering the Tyrells."
Tharren's eyebrows rose. "The Tyrells? That's ambitious. They're the second most powerful house in the realm, and they've traditionally aligned with the crown."
"Which is exactly why we should pursue them," Aerian explained. "Think about it, Father. The Reach is the most populous kingdom, with the strongest agricultural base and significant wealth. An alliance with them would give us access to resources and influence we could never achieve through Northern connections alone."
"But why would the Tyrells agree to such a match?" Tharren asked. "We're a Northern house, however wealthy and powerful we've become."
Aerian smiled. "Because Lady Olenna is too clever to ignore an opportunity when she sees one. House Aurelius has become one of the wealthiest houses in Westeros through our trade empire. We have the best-equipped army in the North, possibly in all Seven Kingdoms. And unlike other houses, we're not drowning in debt or political entanglements. We're an emerging power, and the Tyrells are smart enough to recognize that."
"Margaery Tyrell is only twelve," Maester Thalric pointed out.
"For now," Aerian acknowledged. "But a betrothal could be arranged, with the marriage taking place in a few years when she's of age. That would give both houses time to solidify the alliance and ensure compatibility."
Tharren considered this carefully. "You're thinking several moves ahead, as always. Very well, we'll draft a carefully worded letter to Prince Doran, expressing our regrets about the betrothal while maintaining the trade alliance. Simultaneously, we'll reach out to the Tyrells through our merchant contacts, gauging their interest."
"I'll draft the letters myself," Aerian said. "This needs to be handled delicately."
-------------------------------------------
Later that evening, Aerian stood on the battlements of Frosthold, watching the sun set over the northern landscape. Kael stood beside him, the tiger's white fur gleaming in the fading light. The beast had grown to an impressive size, larger than any natural tiger had a right to be, and his presence was both comforting and intimidating.
"We're making the right choice," Aerian murmured to his companion. "Arianne would never work. She's too wild, too unpredictable. Margaery, though... she's been trained by the best political mind in Westeros. She'll be a true partner in building our power."
Kael rumbled in what sounded like agreement.
Aerian's thoughts turned to the broader picture. Four more years until Robert came to Winterfell. Four more years to prepare for the chaos that would follow. He'd already begun stockpiling weapons, armor, and supplies. The trade empire was generating obscene amounts of wealth, nearly half a million gold dragons annually at this point. The intelligence network was providing invaluable information. The military was the finest in the North.
But there was still so much to do.
He needed to establish more connections in the south. He needed to strengthen his position in the North without appearing to challenge the Starks directly. He needed to prepare for the White Walkers, even though no one else would believe the threat was real.
'And I need to decide,' Aerian thought, 'exactly how far I'm willing to go when the time comes. Will I try to save the Starks from their fate? Or will I let them fall and claim the North for myself?'
"I'll do what's necessary," Aerian said aloud, his voice firm. "For my house, for my family, and ultimately for the realm. Even if that means difficult choices."
Behind him, he heard footsteps. He turned to see his sister Loreth approaching. At twelve years old, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, inheriting her mother's grace and her father's strength of character. Unlike many noble girls her age, Loreth had taken an interest in the management of House Aurelius, learning about trade, logistics, and even basic strategy.
"Brother," she greeted him with a smile. "Mother says you're breaking your betrothal to the Dornish princess."
Aerian chuckled. "Nothing stays secret in this keep for long. Yes, I am. Arianne Martell and I wouldn't be compatible."
Loreth came to stand beside him, looking out over the landscape. "And you're going to pursue Margaery Tyrell instead?"
"You've been eavesdropping on the council meetings again, haven't you?"
"I prefer to think of it as taking initiative in my education," Loreth said with a mischievous grin that reminded Aerian of Arya Stark.
He ruffled her hair affectionately. "Yes, I'm considering the Tyrells. It's a good match politically, and from what I hear, Margaery is intelligent and well-educated."
"Do you think you'll be happy with her?" Loreth asked, her voice more serious.
Aerian was quiet for a moment. "Happiness in marriage is a luxury most lords can't afford, snowflake. But I think Margaery and I could build a partnership based on mutual respect and shared goals. That's more than most political marriages can claim."
Loreth nodded, though she looked a bit sad. "I hope when it's my time to marry, Father lets me choose someone I actually like."
"I'll make sure of it," Aerian promised. "You won't be sold off to some old lord for political advantage. You have my word on that."
She hugged him tightly. "Thank you, brother. You always look out for our family."
As Loreth left to return to the keep for dinner, Aerian remained on the battlements a while longer. The stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky, and somewhere beyond the Wall, ancient evils were stirring.
'Four more years,' he thought again. 'Four more years to prepare for everything that's coming. The game of thrones, the war of the five kings, and ultimately the long night.'
He looked down at Kael, who met his gaze with those intelligent ice-blue eyes.
"We'll be ready," Aerian said with determination.
The white tiger's answering roar echoed across the northern landscape, a declaration of strength and ambition that seemed to shake the very foundations of Frosthold Keep.