Jon Arryn's clouded eyes sharpened, cold and cutting.
Grinn met the piercing gaze without flinching, confusion deepening on his face.
To Jon, the boy's delicate features and disarming manner made his innocence seem almost convincing—almost.
Could I have misjudged him?The thought lasted but a heartbeat. No. Nobles born of Crackclaw Point were never docile. Bloodlust ran through their veins.
According to Varys's intelligence, the young baron had not only reclaimed his ancestral lands but had also launched campaigns against the wild hill tribes of eastern Crackclaw Point.
Men like him would not suffer a merchant's insult without exacting vengeance.
Jon's tone eased slightly, though the warning in his gaze remained."The fate of the Mekar family," he said with calm weight, "is widely understood to be your doing."
Grinn had already guessed the Lord Hand's game: he wanted a confession.But why? Likely, to justify expelling him from King's Landing.And if that was so… then the Lannisters were involved.
What had once been murky now came into focus.
Rather than answer, Grinn leaned in with a question of his own."My lord," he said, voice steady, "I've always wondered—why, even after the war ended fifteen years ago, have you continued to stoke hatred between the Vale and the Point?"
The words dropped like stones. Tension thickened the air.
Jon's gaze narrowed. He said nothing.
Grinn pressed on, softly."It's fortunate, I think, that Crackclaw Point has no ships… and that the sea lies between us."
A barbed jest. The old man's face tightened with offense.
But something else stirred behind the anger—uncertainty.This young baron wasn't reckless. He was measured. Calculating.
Too old for this game, Jon thought grimly. Far too old.
Still, he hadn't forgotten his purpose today."So," he said sharply, "you deflect with questions. That's a coward's trick."
Grinn arched a single brow, silent.
He thought of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon—both raised and tutored by this man.Now I see why they were so politically naïve.
No wonder Petyr Baelish had dared to cuckold him and still covet his power.
Jon's titles were grand, but the man beneath them was worn.
And Grinn could feel it clearly now: the Lord Hand was fading.
He exhaled softly, then spoke in a tone of measured respect."Forgive me, my lord. You speak of crimes, yet I remain in the dark. Would you enlighten me? The events in question, perhaps? Some evidence of my guilt?"
Jon said nothing. His stare lingered, then turned disdainful."Do you remember what it means to bear the honor of a noble house?"
Grinn did not blink."Would you have me confess, merely because I'm a minor lord?"
A flicker of memory crossed Jon's eyes—something Eddard had once said, about a small, prickly beast from the North. The name escaped him.
Jon shoved the thought aside, smothering the ache in his limbs."I could forgive the debts of House Clyburn," he said.
Grinn's ears twitched. That meant 7,500 gold dragons.
His eyes narrowed slightly."Then I must thank you for your generosity, my lord?"
Jon almost smiled."You should leave King's Landing."
So that's the price, Grinn thought.He opened his hands, shrugging."My lord, the Point is barren. We are all hunters. Your blockade has lasted for over ten years—our people bleed daily over scraps."
"There is no place for the weak on Crackclaw Point. The hatred there… it frightens even me."
"Ten thousand hunters, born and bred for war. If someone rouses them, I would have no choice but to follow."
"But as long as I remain here, far from the Point, no one else can rally them. That, my lord, is why I came to King's Landing."
His words were calm. Earnest. Thoughtful.
Aside from the likely exaggeration of numbers, Jon heard the truth—and the threat—beneath the baron's diplomacy.
Is he really from Crackclaw Point? the Lord Hand wondered. He speaks like a court-born southerner.
Then Jon said something that confirmed Grinn's suspicions about him."The Lannisters are too powerful in this city. You should not tie your fate to theirs."
Grinn blinked. That was blunt—even for Westeros.
But Jon was adapting to his audience.
The old man leaned forward, his tone softening again."Still, your logic is not without merit. Sending you back would waste your potential."
"I could name you Warden of Crackclaw Point—give you governance over the entire peninsula."
There it was. A true offer. And not a small one.
Position shapes a man, Grinn thought. Jon's skills might be rusty, but his political instinct remained sharp.
Grinn gave a half-shrug."That would not be easy."
Jon smiled gently, like a kindly uncle."Your people were once too loyal to the Targaryens. Their line may be gone, but trust was never rebuilt. The Red Keep doesn't know what to make of your kind."
Fool, Grinn thought behind his smile.
Today's meeting had confirmed it all—the Baratheon regime had spent decades suppressing Crackclaw Point not out of fear of rebellion, but out of fear of loyalty.
The Point had always sworn to queens. And now, that queen was a Lannister.
Cersei had risen too high to crush. So Jon Arryn had tried to contain her—by weakening her base of power.
Crackclaw Point had been choked into submission.So thoroughly that not even Grinn, now steward to Queen Cersei herself, seemed to alarm the old Hand.
No hurry. No threat. Jon would wait. Play the long game.
But Grinn's words had struck home. Jon now saw that hatred, if left unchecked, could be used. War could be sparked.
And in that war, the Vale would burn first.
Jon had not forgotten how the barons of the Point had fought during Robert's Rebellion—how they never surrendered.
More precisely, they never surrendered to outsiders.
Jon added, his voice quiet,"Of course… loyalty is a virtue. One worth praising."
.
.
.
🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
📯 Lords and Ladies of the Realm, heed the call! 📯
The saga burns ever brighter—30 chapters ahead now await, available only to those who swear their loyalty on Patreon. 🐉❄️🔥
Walk among dragons, defy the cold, and stake your claim in a world where crowns are won with fire and fury.
🔗 Claim your place: www.patreon.com/DrManhattanEN👤 Known on Patreon as: DrManhattanEN
Your loyalty feeds the flame. And fire remembers.