Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 27 - The King Is Dead

Loki was asked by King Robert to join him on a hunt, but Loki pleaded sick, and stayed in his chambers. Robert ordered Pycelle to see him, but when the Grand Maester knocked on the sells-sword's door, Loki threw several knives at it, and they went through the wood, almost gouging Pycelle's eye out. Needless to say, the physician ran away. Inside his locked up chamber, Loki was pacing, and pulling his hair. He was wearing leather trousers, soft boots, and a loose white shirt that billowed in the breeze he created with his tred. "I can't do it, Mother! She's so frustrating!" Loki cursed out loud, before he threw himself on his bed. "Grrr!"

Now you know how I felt when you were going through your teenage years, Frigga countered, and Loki dropped his hands.

"You had one boon," Loki told her as he propped himself up on his elbows, "you had a boy."

Yes, boys are easier to handle than girls. But when you realized what men and women could do together, you were anxious to give it a try, and I wasn't, Frigga reminded him. Loki snickered at the memories of driving his mother crazy. Loki, Sansa is afraid, and you've experienced that fear. You might not have told me about the Builder when I was alive, but as a ghost, I have access to your memories. He tried to do things to you, and as a young prince, you experienced fear. In this instance, Sansa is afraid of you.  Granted, a misplaced fear, put there by Petyr Baelish, but a fear none the less.

"I didn't let my fear of the Builder stop me from eventually removing him as a factor in my life. Sansa is scared of Joffrey, and is mistaking that for affection. How naïve can one girl be?" Loki asked, before slamming his fist into the mattress.

How desperate can one man be to convince her otherwise? Frigga asked. Loki rolled his eyes, but that was when there was a knock on his door. It was softer, but not a woman's knock.

"Ah. Lord Varys?" Loki said, and the door was magically unlocked. The bald counselor stuck his head in.

"Beg your pardon, Ser Sells-sword, but I was sent by Lord Stark to inform you of the return of the king," Varys said. Loki stood up from the bed, and cocked his head to one side. "I'm afraid that he was wounded on his hunt by a wild boar. Maester Pycelle says he won't live." Loki stopped, and gave Varys a sideways glance. The counselor nodded, bowed slightly, and left the room. Loki looked out the window, and waved his hand, transforming himself into his armor.

"So, bellum incipit (the war begins)."

When Loki arrived at the chamber door to the king, he found several guards around it, and Renly Baratheon standing outside. Renly Baratheon held out his hand, and Loki took it. "I want to thank you for all your good service to my brother. I want to offer you service with me once he passes," Renly said to Loki. The sells-sword finished shaking his hand, before he pulled it away. However, Loki shook his head.

"I'm sorry your highness, but my loyalty has already been bought," Loki told him. Renly frowned, and Loki started to walk by him.

"By Ned Stark?" Renly suddenly asked, making Loki turn back to face him. Loki snickered to himself.

"Not by Ned Stark directly," Loki responded, and he entered the chamber. Just as Joffrey, Cersei, and Pycelle were leaving. Joffrey looked up at Loki as they were passing, and a grin flitted across his face. For somebody's who about to lose his father, he's mighty happy. Of course, there are more pros than cons to this situation: he becomes king, and he can get rid of me. But, he's going to have to catch me first, Loki thought to himself. Turning back to the bed, he saw a rather pale Robert Baratheon laying there. A bandage was wrapped around his stomach, and Loki knew the boar had got him good. Ned Stark was already sitting on the bed, so Loki walked round to the other side. "You summoned me, your majesty?" Loki asked.

"Yes, Loki Sells-sword. I'm dying... and... I want to make sure that when I leave, your talents are not wasted," Robert said. Loki's eyebrow quirked up, but he nodded, and glanced at Ned Stark.

"I'm leaving Ned in charge to rule until my son comes of age," Robert said, and Loki's head snapped up. So, Robert Baratheon had some brains after all. Good. But, would Cersei and Joffrey heed his last wishes? Debatable. "As he rules as the regent, I want you to be his bodyguard," Robert told him, and Loki's head turned to Ned Stark. The Hand of the King was looking at Loki, and the sells-sword was looking back. "You two watch each other's backs." Ned nodded, while Loki gave no indication that he affirmed or denied the king's order. Robert suddenly pointed to a writing stand next to them. Ned took it up, and began to pen what his king dictated. "You will be the regent until Joffrey is old enough to take over. Show the council this paper," Robert said after he signed his name at the bottom. Ned took it, and rolled it up. "Ned, you were right. Baelish, Varys, Renly? None of them said no, except you. The Targaryen girl. Let her live. Stop it before it's too late," Robert ordered.

"I will," Ned promised. Loki cocked his head to one side. He had never sat in officially on the small council meetings (occasionally make an invisible appearance), and he remembered them discussing assassinating Daenerys Targaryen. Loki had alerted Ser Jorah, and he had taken the credit for saving her life when a wine seller tried to poison her. Ser Jorah had begrudgingly thanked him. Loki watched as Ned stood up, taking his cane for support on his still painful leg. It was not as bad as it would have been, if Loki had not applied some of his magic to it. Robert looked at Loki, and the sells-sword inclined his head slightly. With that, both men left the room. When they stepped outside the chamber, Prince Renly, Varys, Baelish, and Grand Maester Pycelle were all outside. Ned held the scroll tightly in his hands. They all looked at each other in silence. "He's still alive, but not for much longer. Grand Maester Pycelle? Give him milk of the poppy," Ned said. Meanwhile, Loki had walked past them all, swiftly making his way down the hall. All five men looked after him, wondering where he was going. In his head, Loki was playing out how things would work: Joffrey would ignore his father's wishes, and Ned Stark would be an idiot and stand in the way. When Loki rounded the corner, he paused. Should he save Stark from his demise at the hands of Joffrey and Cersei?

"Mother? Should I?" Loki asked, closing his eyes. He knew that the death of Ned Stark would hurt Sansa Stark, the way he did not want to see her get hurt.

I'm sorry, Loki. But, if the fate of Westeros is to be decided, a domino must fall in order to create the chain reaction you desire. Ned Stark is that lynchpin. With his death, his son will rise in the North, and all of Westeros will go to war in order to resolve who will be the next king. The Houses of Baratheon, under the rule of Stannis, will claim that he is the rightful king. House Lannister will defend Joffrey's claim; and the Starks will call for justice for their fallen lord. But the house that we want, is House Targaryen. You play your cards right, and you will come out on top in the coming strife.

Loki grinned and chuckled slightly. "You make orchestrating the realignment of this realm sound as easy as waking up in the morning," Loki told her as he continued his walk.

Well, for you? I expect nothing less, Frigga said in return. Her mischievous son snickered, and he disappeared from the halls of the Red Keep.