The raven came at dawn.
It perched on the edge of the frozen river, its feathers slick with frost, its eyes the color of old ink.
When it spoke, its voice wasn't its own it was his.
"King's Landing calls for you, my daughter. Come to the court, and bring your shadow with you."
Althea stared at the message clenched in its talons
A seal of gold and crimson.
The Lannister Lion.
The Summons
By midday, Althea and Job stood before the remains of Harrenhal's courtyard.
The letter's contents were clear Queen Lily summoned Althea Baelish to answer for "unauthorized campaigns and sorcery unfit for a lady of Westeros."
Job scowled. "It's a trap."
"Of course it is," she said simply. "But traps work both ways."
He frowned. "You're walking into the lion's den."
"I built a few of those dens myself."
Her tone was calm, but inside, the whisper hadn't stopped.
The Old Gods murmured beneath her thoughts not warning her this time, but urging.
The curse wanted to go south.
"The fire burns brighter in the capital," it breathed.
"And so do the lies."
Return to the Capital
King's Landing stank of power and perfume.
The Red Keep loomed above the city like a wound that refused to close.
Every corridor whispered of her father's voice the old lessons of manipulation, the art of survival, the thrill of control.
But now, those same lessons felt poisoned.
Peter Baelish had died twice once in her memory, once in her curse. Yet his influence lingered like a ghost at her shoulder.
As she entered the throne room, the air grew heavy.
Lily Lannister sat upon the Iron Throne her beauty sharp as glass, her gaze colder than winter itself.
"Lady Althea Baelish," the queen drawled, "the realm remembers your father's tricks. Shall we see if the daughter has learned restraint?"
Althea curtsied slowly. "I learned more than restraint, Your Grace. I learned patience."
Lily's lips curved. "Then prove it. Tell me why I shouldn't strip you of title and send you back to the North as ashes."
The Dance of Words
The court watched hungry for blood, or entertainment, or both.
Althea raised her head, every motion deliberate. "Because, Your Grace, the North listens to me now. And if you burn me, the river will rise against your fire."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Lily's eyes narrowed. "Threats?"
"Truths," Althea replied. "The Old Gods remember who broke their pacts."
Jaime, standing beside the throne, studied her carefully. "You speak as if you've seen them."
"I don't just see them," she said. "They see me."
For a moment, the hall fell silent.
Lily leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper only Althea could hear. "Then perhaps you're more useful alive."
The Crow's Bargain
That night, she was summoned privately to the Queen's solar.
The room smelled of wildfire and wine.
Lily poured two goblets and gestured for her to sit. "Your father served many masters. Which one do you serve?"
Althea met her gaze. "Myself."
Lily laughed not with amusement, but recognition. "A Baelish answer."
She sipped her wine and added, "Tell me about your abilities. They say you command shadows."
"They exaggerate," Althea lied smoothly. "I command only loyalty."
Lily's gaze sharpened. "Then command mine. I want the North divided, the Starks broken, and Daenerys Targaryen's dragons grounded before they reach our shores. Do that, and I'll give you a seat on my council."
Althea's heart skipped. "And if I refuse?"
Lily smiled thinly. "Then I'll remind the realm what happens to little birds who sing the wrong tune."
The raven in the corner cawed once deep and hollow.
The Crow's Price
That night, Althea wandered the halls of the Red Keep, her thoughts fracturing under the weight of prophecy and temptation.
The river in her blood stirred the same current that had whispered through her veins since birth.
She looked into a bronze mirror, and for a fleeting second, the reflection wasn't hers.
It was Peter's face smirking, eyes full of secrets.
"Play her," the reflection murmured.
"Use her fire before it burns you."
She struck the mirror, shattering it.
Blood dripped from her knuckles, bright and cold.
Job found her minutes later, his cloak brushing the shards.
"She wants you to betray the North," he said quietly.
"I know."
"And what do you want?"
Althea's voice trembled. "I want to end this curse even if I have to become it."
Jonlb's jaw tightened. "Then you'll lose yourself."
"Maybe that's the price."
The Whisper in the Throne Room
Days later, as she stood in the empty throne room, she felt it the river's pull merging with something else.
A whisper, older than either god or queen:
"The crow demands his due. One life for another."
And beneath the throne, in the cracks of the stone, a faint glimmer pulsed liquid, black as ink, flowing toward her boots.
Blood.
When she looked up, she saw Lily watching from the balcony, smiling faintly as if she, too, heard the same whisper.