The Lion and the Rose: South

[Cranberry]

DORAN

"His Grace is on his way here, My Prince." Daemon Sand's deep voice jumped Doran out of his slumber. He always wondered how such a young boy, no older than his Arianne, could have that deep a voice, as if he was fourty and full of stories to tell. That could have been a reason for her then. Since he arrived here at Storm's End, Doran had tried to keep him as far away from Arianne as possible. Their history was well known, but Sand had as of yet to give him a reason for concern. They were children then. Both of them have grown, hopefully wiser. He is not the man to watch. Oakheart is.

"Very well, Ser, thank you. Tell to open the doors for the King, if you were so kind?" It took just a nod by his head, and the big doors swung open, revealing the spoken of in steady pace walking along the hall. The sun shone that day, a rare enough occurance in those trist, rainy lands, and so the King's silver hair all but glittered in the light, reflecting the sunshine spectres. It took not long for him to reach Doran's chair, his guards swiftly behind him.

"Your Grace, what a pleasant visit! I would stand up for You, but..." "No need for such formalities, Lord Hand." Aegon replied in the nice, soft voice of his. He looks and sounds like a boy yet. But he is a King, still hidden; though one can sense the Targaryen in him. Aegon sat on the chair right next to Doran, releasing his fellowmen with a wink. Doran did the same.

"Your Grace, may I ask, what is the object of this visit?"
"Lord Hand, I sure may have a word with you."
"I shall hope nothing of sinsiter concern? Nothing to plague a day as gentle as..." Doran apruptly stopped his talking, watching Aegon's arm. The sleeve of his coat had lifted, unveiling a small ring of sorts, golden, with red and deep yellow lines winding on it like a snake. I know exactly what this is.
"What is it? What has crossed your mind?"
"Your Grace, that armring of yours..."
"That one? Have you never seen it on me? I have posessed this piece for ages. What is it about it?"
"Your Grace, this armring is the one that belonged to every eldest daugther of House Martell since Nymeria's day. This ring used to be my sister's."

[DKrol]

Aegon VI

"I'm sorry, Your Grace." The Maester said, after reading Aegon the news of Lord Connington's capture. Aegon threw his cup across the hall, sending wine spilling across his Small Council table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his Queen flinch away - ever so slightly. I must control myself. I am not the Mad King. As a servant moved to clean the spill, Aegon raised his hand, got off his throne, took the rag, and cleaned the table himself.

"I apologize for that outburst. It's just...Jon was a father to me." Aegon said, as he returned to his throne. "He helped spirit me out of King's Landing, keep me safe in Essos, and teach me how to be a King. He's the one that gave me all I have of my parents - my mother's armring. To hear of his capture is...is..." Aegon trailed off. Arianne reached over and squeezed his hand. He took a moment to regain himself.

"To the matter at hand. Lord Connington has been taken prisoner by Yohn Royce and given over to Stannis. He is likely dead." The words echoed across the chamber. Those members of the Small Council who were present - and few they were, as most were away leading Aegon's armies - sat in silence as did the several lords and ladies in attendance. "I have always believed that a son for a son, a daughter for a daughter, and a father for a father. Stannis taken from me both a valued counselor and a strong general. For that, I will take from him a valued counselor and a strong general."

At Aegon's signal, Lord Commander Areo Hotah and Commander of the City Guard Rolly Duckfield brought into the chamber two captives - taken from the ruins of King's Landing - wrapped in chains, with hoods over their heads. Aegon stood as the captives were brought in and forced to kneel before him. Their hoods were removed at Aegon's command.

"Gyles Rosby, former Lord of Rosby. You are here on charges of treason against the Crown by assisting the Usurper, his boy-king, and House Baratheon. Do you deny your crime?" The former Lord Rosby kept his eyes on the ground. Aegon took a step forward and asked again "Do you deny your crime?" Again, Rosby did not answer. Aegon reached down and took Rosby by the chin and forced him to look at the King. "Do you deny your crime?" Rosby only coughed, spattering Aegon with spittle.

Lord Commander Hotah handed Aegon a freshly sharpened sword. "It is my duty to dispense justice, as my Master of Laws is away." Aegon told his prisoner. The Lord Commander forced Rosby's head down, as Aegon said a brief prayer to the Seven. And then he swung. It took two swings to cut through the final sinews of the sickly Master of Coin. Within the hour, Ser Ronnet Connington had also lost his head to the King's sword.

"Preserve these heads, send them North. One to the Nightfort, one to Stannis." Aegon told Lord Commander Hotah as he took his Queen's arm and led her out of the chamber. I was taught how to be a King, and today I have become a King. He took Arianne to their chamber, with Ser Garth Hightower as their guard, and performed the second duty of a King - producing an heir.

[badgate]

To All The Lords and Ladies of the Vale,

It is my duty as Lord Regent of the Vale of Arryn to duly appoint offices in the name of Lord Robert, and let it be known henceforth -

-- I hereby call on the houses and bannermen of Runestone, Gulltown, Redfort, Ironoaks, Old Anchor, Longbow Hall, Heart's Home, Snakewood, Coldwater, Wickenden, and Nightsong send 1,500 fighting men each to form a second Vale host. These men will make camp and form up on land west of Runestone, numbering some 16,500.
--- This force will be known as the Runestone Army, while the 10,000 strong at The Eyrie shall be referred to as the Eyrie Army.

Eyrie Army
-- I hereby appoint Lord Nestor Royce, Lord and Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, command of the Eyrie Army.

-- I hereby appoint Lord Royce Coldwater, as well as Ser Harlan Hunter and Ser Marwyn Belmore to the office of lieutenant commander of the Eyrie Army, to report to Lord Nestor Royce for duty.

-- I hereby appoint Ser Donnel Waynwood to the office of Knight of the Bloody Gate, responsible for command of the garrison of the Bloody Gate and naming new officers or castellans should a vacancy arise.

Runestone Army
-- I hereby appoint Ser Mychel Redfort to command of the foot host in the Runestone Army, tasking him with training the foot soldiers in swords. He will be able to name lieutenant officers under his command.

-- I hereby appoint Ser Lyn Corbray to command of the vanguard in the Runestone Army, tasking him with training the vanguard in all necessary arenas. He will be able to name lieutenant officers under his command.

-- I hereby appoint Lord Gilwood Hunter to command of the left cavalry in the Runestone Army, with like duties of my other officers.

-- I hereby appoint Ser Andar Royce to command the scouts in the Runestone Army, with like duties of my other officers.

-- I hereby appoint Ser Morton Waynwood to command the rear in the Runestone Army, with like duties of my other officers.

Gulltown Fleet
-- I hereby appoint Lord Gerold Grafton to command of the Gulltown Fleet, naming him Admiral of the Vale.

-- I hereby appoint Lord Uther Tollett and Ser Eustace Hunter to the office of lieutenant commanders of the Gulltown Fleet, naming them Vice Admiral of the Vale, to report to Lord Gerold Grafton for duty.

--

Signed,
Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, Commander of the Runestone Army, and Lord Regent of the Vale of Arryn.

[Lumine]

The Spider II:

Another mutilation. Oh, the irony... Far too clever to be amusing. Varys had congratulated himself from escaping of the Great Fire of King's Landing, but his successful escape had it price. In this case, he wasn't able to run anymore, being forced to walk even slower than before. All the same, he was now at Storm's End, finally near the King and knowing that Illyrio would soon join them. Things had certainly gone better than expected for the cause of the dragon, the loss of the capital aside. And here I am, Master of Whisperers again, charged with the most banal of tasks... a welcoming committee.

-Lady Sansa, it has been a long time.-
-It has, Lord Varys. It's strange to see a face from King's Landing after...-
-Yes, a very unfortunate incident. Shall we go to the fortress?-

The Dornishmen had sent another bunch of ships filled with noblemen, probably hoping to fill the court before the Tyrells could attempt the same. He couldn't care less about them, but he did care about the valuable girl brought with them. Lord Tyrion had entrusted him with Lady Sansa's safety, and in one of those ironies far too good to be true he had sent her to the safest place: with King Aegon. From King's Landing to Essos, from Dorne to Storm's End. A long journey for a young girl, although I suppose a happy one given that King Joffrey is dead. Both were walking slowly from the docks to the huge fortress that held the court, escorted by Ser Franklyn.

-I trust you had a pleasant journey, Lady Sansa?-
-It was pleasant, yes, my Lord...-
-That is good to hear.-
-Lord Varys?-
-Yes?-
-I... never had a chance to thank you for getting me out of the city.-
-No need to thank me. After all, I've given you to the sworn enemies of your house.-
-I...-
-At least Aegon isn't Joffrey... Those news must have been most pleasant for you.-
-King Joffrey was... he was...-
-We all know what we was, my dear. But he is gone.-

When they finally reached the entrance Lady Sansa was taken to the presence of the Queen - King Aegon being away for the day -, and Varys gave a simple farewell before going to write the new messages he had to send. He pushed the small pity he felt for the girl aside as fast as possible, and he began to write. So many of my little birds, so many ravens and so little time... The hours passed until night came through, and the Spider decided he had enough for the day. It was time to enjoy his victory, even if it was for a short time. Because, in a way, he had won. Everybody else whom he had served on the Small Council was dead save for Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, and the sense of amusement that the news of the death of Lord Baelish brought him was second to none. Poor Littlefinger. Taken out of the game by a ludicrous accident, only to fall victim to the plots of... the rose, most likely, if not the Harrenhal curse. A fitting end for a man who believe in chaos.

-Ser Arys, I command you to leave your post. - Said the Lord Commander in that strange voice of his - I need to speak to you in private.

Oh? It seems I got here in the right time. Varys moved as silently as possible as both Kingsguards climbed steps to get to one of the higher floors. Once Lord Commander Aero was sure nobody else was there, he took Ser Arys to one of the unused rooms. The Spider approached carefully and then he started to listen.

-You made a mistake, Ser.-
-Did I, Lord Commander? What was it?-
-You broke the wrong vow.-
-How?-
-Choosing the wrong woman.-

Varys had no need to see the scene, for the sound of the screams of Ser Arys and the violent crash into the floor after falling several levels was eloquent enough. With a single expression on his face he left the place and his himself behind a column, and he saw the Lord Commander leave the place with a growing grin. I was wondering how much longer he would stand for Ser Arys's escapades with the Queen. The King has a lot of enthusiasm, one must not deny it. And he left with an even bigger grin on his face.

[DKrol]

Aegon VI

Aegon was abed with his Queen, doing his favorite duty. They had done so every evening since their wedding and bedding - and several afternoons when Aegon could slip away from the Small Council - in an attempt to produce an heir. "A King must have an heir and many spares" Jon Connington had told Aegon while they still hide as Griff and Young Griff in Pentos. Since, he had heard from the Septons and Maesters that too many heirs was the cause of the Dance - something Aegon was sure to want to avoid. Aegon had spilled his seed in Arianne every time and still none had planted and taken hold. If the Dornishwoman cannot give me a son, I will take another bride Aegon told himself, although he did truly love his cousin.

He rolled himself off of her, breathing heavily and sweating. And then a horrible noise filled his ears. A deep voiced shout - a scream - and then a harsh crash. Iron scraped on stone, bones shattered, flesh exploded. Aegon threw off his bed covers and ran to the window, threw it open, and stepped out onto the balcony - the cool autumn air turning his skin to gooseflesh and sending his manhood erect. He looked over the railing as his Queen came out, covered with a loose cloth. He took her in his arms and tried to turn her away, to spare her the sight, but she saw. Her body shuddered as her brain registered what her eyes were taking in.

Ser Arys Oakheart, sworn knight of the Kingsguard of three kings from two Houses, lay broken on the ground of the central courtyard of Storm's End. Blood coated the stones and bits of flesh lay spattered around as the castle's residents came out to respond to the scene. Commander of the City Watch Rolly Duckfield and a legion of his crimson cloaks - Aegon had dispensed with the use of gold cloaks after the burning of King's Landing - stormed into the courtyard and forced people away from the body. Aegon looked down at Rolly, who looked up at Aegon, and a silent message passed between them. Clean this up well.

Aegon turned his Queen and ushered her back to bed. As he was covering her Lord Commander Areo Hotah, Ser Garth Hightower, and Ser Franklyn Fossoway burst into the King's chamber.

"Your Grace, we came as soon as we heard." Hotah said through labored breaths. "Ser Arys - he fell from his watch."

"I saw." Aegon responded as he went to his chest and withdrew a set of soft, cotton robes dyed in a sharp Targaryen red. He dressed himself, put his crown on his head, and kissed Arianne before going through the small side door that led to his solar. "Lord Commander, remain with the Queen. Ensure her safety.". I know I won't have to geld the Lord Commander. He wouldn't use his manhood if his life depended on it.

[badgate]

Yohn Royce

His hand was cramping. Yohn Royce set aside his quill and flexed the fingers in his right hand, to alleviate the stress. Before him was a small stack of letters.

I hereby name Lord Nestor Royce...Ser Donnel Waynwood...Lord Gilwood Hunter... the names went on and on. He had been careful to honor every house in the Vale in their own way, but it was the Hunters who'd been the true nightmare. All three had tried to decline their posts, for want to stay at Longbow Hall. Old Lord Hunter had kept his house for 60 years, but it was not yet a year ago that he had died suddenly and with questionable cause. The brothers had spent the next several moon turns fighting over Longbow Hall and its lands. Yohn had heard most of the castle's garrison split three ways. While Lord Gilwood was the obvious suspect for murder, being the heir, it was Ser Harlan that Yohn's sources pointed to.

Whomever it was who had done the kinslaying, it was well and good that the three brothers were split between two armies and a navy. With any luck two out of the three would die in the fighting, and the issue would solve itself. Yohn didn't think it likely.

He picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and pulled the next piece of parchment from the pile. This one to the Redfort, where he would named one of the best swords of the Vale to command the infantry. He signed it and moved on.

Ten letters later, he gathered the papers and walked from his solar to the downward stairs. The Lord of Runestone's chambers were the top of a round tower. The top of the tower was a domed ceiling. The entire top floor was an open balcony, for the private leisure of the Lord and Lady of Runestone. Below, in the proper first floor were the bedchambers, with an open staircase that wrapped around the inside wall of the tower. Halfway to the next floor was the privy, then a door leading to a modest study. The study took up a third of the next floor, and the Lord's solar with its high arches in the corners the other two thirds. Off the solar was a balcony that wrapped around the entire tower, but had only the one entrance. And another wrapped staircase leading to a round ceremonial room. The Lord of Runestone would customarily descend to greet his guests here before bringing them up to the solar to eat or talk. From this floor was a covered bridge that crossed across the castle to the larger round tower that was Runestone's anchor. Here was the great hall, two kitchens (one near the covered bridge for when the Lord took his food in his own tower), bedchambers for guests and family, a basement with steaming baths, and at the top was a set of apartments that included a balcony lined with cages of ravens.

Lord Royce listened to the hard echo of his boots as he crossed the bridge. At the end he took a hallway to a stairwell. He found Maester Edmund in the study, sitting across from his younger daughter Rowena. Before Rowena was a large tome, illuminated in bright inks.

"What's the lesson today?"

"The lineages of the noble houses of the Vale," his daughter answered. "I have seen fit to teach our Rowena of the heirs to Lord Jon Arryn, such as they were," the maester said to him. Yohn took a seat, and set the letters to his side. "What did you learn?"

Rowena sat up. She was hopeless at sums, but loved histories and songs. "Lord Jon Arryn had three wives and was twice widowed. His first wife was a Lady Royce, named Jeyne. She died giving birth, but the baby died too. He was married to his second wife, Rowena, for thirty years but never had a child. She died one winter."

"Who was his heir, then?" Rowena frowned. "I wasn't finished. His heir right then...was his brother?" Yohn smiled.

"But his brother died too, and his heir was Ser Elbert Arryn. Ser Elbert was killed by the Mad King, and Jon Arryn joined Robert's Rebellion. Then he married Lady Lysa, who Myranda called the sour grape." Rowena giggled. "That cousin of yours is sour herself," Maester Edmund scoffed. "So now the heir is Lord Robin," she finished.

After a pause, "was I named after Jon Arryn's Rowena?" Yohn smiled. "Your sister was born before she passed, but your mother was close friends with Rowena Arryn. I do believe she meant to honor her friend when you were born." Rowena didn't seem too upset by that.

"Maester Edmund says Lord Robin's illness is perplexing. We were just trying to find out who was Robin's heir. The maester says Jon Arryn had a sister as well as a brother, and she married the younger brother of a Lord..." She paused. "House Waynwood, my lady." The maester offered. "They had many children but a lot of bad luck." At that Yohn laughed. Rowena always had a tendency to bluntness, which he enjoyed in contrast to the courtesies she tried so hard to remember. "Just so," he told his daughter. "So who is Lord Robin's heir?"

Rowena traced the tree on the page with her finger. "The only child to have boy was one of the daughters, who married the Waynwood bannerman house Hardyng. So their son Harr- uh...Harrold? Yes, it's him." Lord Royce smiled and tousled his daughter's hair like he always did when she made him proud. "Would you like to meet Harrold Hardyng, my lady?"

Rowena hesitated. "I think so."

"Perhaps you will. I've offered Lady Waynwood to take him as my squire when we march west." He stood, and so did his daughter and the maester. "Now my lady, go on to your chambers and prepare for dinner. And tell your older sister that she's been seated next to the King tonight. She'll want to look her best, I'm sure."

He turned to the maester as his daughter took her leave. "Maester Edmund, my seal and wax, if you would be so kind," he said as he sat again. We have ravens to send.

[leonardothered]

Tyrion I

There was a knock at the door, and Bronn opened it to reveal Ser Roland Crakehall looking stately with his own tail of two guardsmen and hands held behind his back. "Lord Tyrion, the council awaits. The king is... growing drowsy." said Roland with what dignity could be mustered. Tyrion and Jaime exchanged glances; he had told Tyrion the king was up for half the night crying. It is to be expected... He has lost his home, his mother, and his only uncle is a misshapen imp whose face he dutifully looks into, and only out of kindness doesn't shy away. And his father... Jaime himself looked in need of rest, but with only three kingsguard, the security measures taken and the rotation of the knights his duties demanded more of his waking hours than perhaps was wise. Not to mention he has had no time to grieve.

As much as Tyrion was glad to be rid of Joffrey, the tragedy of king's landing had shaken all the west to the bone, and even he himself had to take some time to compose himself in the wake of House Lannister's woes. He was the only chance Tommen and Jaime had; the rest of the Lannisters and his vassals aside would likely be afforded pardons in exchange for fealty and loyalty. Tyrion had no such option.

"Very well Ser, send word ahead of our arrival. Bronn, my sceptre." Bronn obliged, handing Tyrion the wooden cane. Maester Craelyn believed the limp would only be temporary, and it did seem to be healing. Tyrion could now waddle about fine without it, but with the many stairs of the rock he still kept it about him, and the Lord of Casterly Rock was not about to be seen carried anywhere, even by his kin. The small lion's head was wrought with gold and two small rubies set into the eyes, though not regal enough for a Lannister. Jaime stood and gave Tyrion an arm, but Tyrion refused it. "Captain, make the rounds if you would be so good, and see that our garrison is up to scratch. My brother's arm works as well as it ever did, he can guard the King's Hand on a leisurely stroll"

Bronn let out an insolent grunt and left with "As your lordship decrees". Jaime gave Tyrion a cynical look as they started down the stairs from his solar. "We're fortunate Ser Balon and Ser Lyle are able; the reality of my own prowess isn't likely to improve with a lie" said Jaime balefully. "It isn't likely to improve at all without you taking on some more accomplished opponents." The tapping of his cane echoed off the walls in a rhythm. "It's just as well we lost Boros Blount and Meryn Trant. Tommen needs good men about him, and I would rather trust Tommen to Bronn than trust him to another Blount. The Kingsguard must needs be restored to its former prestige and ability; it will fill with time, and today should help to lighten the burden." Jaime shook his head and sighed. "If there is a man as skilled Barristan the Bold left in the realm, let alone the west, he must be buried deeper than all the gold beneath the rock. Still, you're correct in that shadows serve us better than the likes of Blount"

With the loss of the Cleganes and Jaime's maiming, the might of the west had lost its best. Tyrion had issued a decree of pardon to Sandor Clegane should he wish to re-enter Lannister service, but so far the Hound had not shown his distorted features this side of the golden tooth. There were rumors of him wandering the Riverlands, but Tyrion put no stock in them; the Hound wasn't cunning, but he wasn't a fool, and the Riverlands were not any kind of haven for his sort. There were still valiant scions of battle to be found though, and the strongboar was an easy choice. If not for his skill in the field, Ser Addam Marbrand would also have made a stalwart kingsguard.

After a short descent, they arrived at the main hall. The Lannister seat of gold was currently occupied by the king, with his councillors arrayed to the side of the throne. Tyrion had refurnished the hall, as it now must be fit for not just a Lannister, but a golden king. Jaime climbed onto the dais and took his place to the left of the king, Jaime relieving Ser Balon who left to stand guard at the door beside Ser Harwyn 'Hardstone' Plumm, and Ser Lyle was abed in preparation for night duty. Normally all of the kingsguard would be there to welcome a new brother,  but security took priority over tradition. The courtiers were few and Tyrion had finished with the queries and requests before midday. A few nobles dotted the seats, but aside from the king and his council most of the hall was empty aside from crimson guardsmen.

Tommen slumped in the throne, the dark circles under his eyes clearly visible and his crown askew. "Your grace, I beg your forgiveness, I was answering a raven." Tyrion took a knee as best he could, managing to bend without wincing. Tommen tried to speak and only yawned straightening his crown, then finished with "You have my forgiveness uncle." Tyrion stood and waddled up onto the dais to the seat to the right of the king. He looked over to Ser Balon and nodded, the knight giving a nod in return and moving to open the large double doors into the hall.

 Jaime had sized him up, and while he was young and inexperienced, his dedication to Tommen was sincere, and in time he would become a skilled fighter as well as tourney knight. Tyrion was a bit reluctant to pick such a young lad, only 16, but Jaime assured him that he was no green boy having slain two knights, capturing two more and wounding a third on the Blackwater, and Tommen was becoming fond of Josmyn. He reached the edge of the dais and bowed. "Your grace" he said to the floor, eyes still downcast. Tommen sat up and began to recall the words. "Josmyn of House Peckledon, you have been weighed and measured in the eyes of myself and council, and deemed worthy of a high and sacred office. You have proven valiant as well as chivalrous, and thus are appointed to the order of kingsguard, sacred protectors of... the... the king's royal person." He took a small pause as if waiting for someone else to speak, then remembering went on. "Kneel and pledge your loyalty, and rise as a knight of the kingsguard."

Josmyn went to a knee. "I do so pledge my loyalty, my honor, and my life to the service of the king, and my lord commander, Ser Jaime Lannister. Never shall I waver, and never shall any foe harm you whilst life remains in me, the one true king of Westeros, Tommen Baratheon, the first of his name, king of the andals, the rhoynar, and the first men, and lord of the seven kingdoms." Jaime descended, laying the sword on first one shoulder and then the other. Tommen cleared his throat; "I accept your oath. Rise now as Ser Josmyn Peckledon, sworn brother of the kingsguard." He rose smiling and bowed again to the king. "May the gods bless my service and your reign, your grace. All hail the king! King Tommen!"

[leonardothered]

Tyrion I(con't.)

After the cheering(few voices though there were), the king was then led away, the newest brother of the kingsguard escorting him along with Ser Balon. Once gone, the rest rose and filed out, most out of the front entrance while the council left to the side. The council chambers were round, and the furnishings sparse, just a few small end tables decorated with light foodstuffs, water, and wine. In the center of the room was an oval table, Tyrion taking his place at the head and Jaime taking the other side. Tyrion looked around as Tommen's seven councillors took their places; Forley Prester was to his left, Master of laws, an easy choice. Alysanne Lefford, his wife and a lady in her own right, took the next chair, master of coin. The crown funds were essentially Lannister gold now, and new loans would need to be made to offset the costs of further war. The lady of golden tooth was handsome though aging, still quite sharp and deft at juggling debtors.

Antario Jast's eyes sat deep in his head, and though his pallor was woeful, he was beginning to come back into some shape of himself. While he would be no spider, Antario Jast had already begun to establish a small group of agents and was proving capable as master of whisperers, the only office Tyrion had trouble filling; he supposed men took his thousand yard stare for something fierce, and more to the good. Across from him and to Jaime's left sat Addam Marbrand, given the new office of Marshal as Tyrion himself was Warden of the West. Gerion Farman, nephew of the late Lord Sebaston Farman, was an admiral without a real fleet, and Roland Crakehall held the office of Steward and Castellan should said warden of the west be absent on campaign, as Tyrion  had no time for the quibbling and management of a household with the west standing on its own. Hopefully that can be remedied...

In another time, he would have enjoyed the feel of them waiting at his leisure to begin, but in such dire straits there was little time for ego. "My lords and lady, shall we commence? With the appointment of Ser Josmyn and Ser Harwyn Plumm we are slowly mending the gap of Tommen's guard, and Ser Addam assures me our host is ready to march at need be. I have hired sellsword companies to augment our force and fleet, but we are surrounded by foes. Lady Lefford, how goes the charity campaign?" The lady Alysanne sighed; "the smallfolk are ungrateful, but fed, and we are slowly regaining their favor. At a cost." She didn't approve of such brazen spending, but the west was still feeling the effects of the ironborn raids and the people were timid. Currently they were flocking to the golden tooth and inner west after many fled the attack on Lannisport.
"Hundreds pass through Ashemark seeking the security of the mountains as well my castellan reports." Addam Marbrand reported without the same wearied tone of Lady Lefford. One of the most able men left in the west, his experience would be invaluable, and Jaime and himself both counted themselves in good fortune with his appointment.

As word spread, Tyrion hoped the people would migrate back to their towns, and Lannisport. If gaps in the Lannister forces needed to be filled, he wanted able bodies at the ready, though the region was near exhausted in terms of manpower aside from what was already gathered. With winter here Tyrion did his best to stock castle and garrison as well as make orders to purchase more food, but by his own calculations it would scarce be enough. At this rate if the Lannister armies stayed afoot, they would be hardpressed to stop the riots in the coming years.

Ser Forley Prester had opened his mouth to speak when the door crashed open, a near exhausted Maester Craelyn huffing and puffing in the doorway. His eyes were wide, and his hands trembled as he shambled before Tyrion and handed him a strip of parchment. He didn't wait for Tyrion to read it before announcing to the room "Lannisport has fallen! The ironmen have taken the city, thousands of them, they've slain Lord Damion Lannister and sent his sons Ser Lucion Lannister and Ser Daven Lannister-" he swallowed, took a breath "-fleeing here ahead of a column of smallfolk pouring from the city." With that he slumped in a chair breathing heavily.

Tyrion said nothing. His eyes ran over the parchment while he picked up his wine goblet and drained it. He had an urge to throw it at the nearest wall, but restrained himself. I must keep composure, I must keep my head, or Jaime and Tommen will lose theirs. "Ser Forley, you will set out immediately along with Peter and Dennis Plumm, you shall have swift horses and spare mounts. Craeyln, send ravens to all in the realm, the Lannisters will pay a bounty of 250,000 gold dragons for the head of Euron Greyjoy, and 100,000 for the empty head of Victarion; a Lannister always pays his debts as all well know. Ser Roland, go inform Ser Bronn of this news at once and ready our host. Lady Lefford, prepare for the influx of these refugees as well as Ser Daven and Ser Lucion. Lord Antario, see to it we have as much information as possible regarding this army of barbarians." The table sat in shock, until Tyrion slammed his fist down on the table. "NOW!" They exited swiftly, Craeyln still trying to catch his breath, leaving Ser Addam, Gerion Farman, and Jaime.

He stood and began trying to pace, then giving up in frustration at the pain in his leg. He threw his cane across the room, knocking off the golden lion's head and sending it bouncing to land at his own feet. He leaned with a hand on the wall looking down at it, then turned to the remaining three, hoping the omen was as empty as the heart of Euron Greyjoy.

[DKrol]

A Proclamation from King Aegon

"It is my good and true will, with the Seven as my witness, that the castle of Harrenhal - an old and prestigious castle - shall be given to the Faith as a gift from the crown. It shall serve as the seat of the Faith and the Faith Militant. They shall not report to any of the Lords Paramount - instead they shall answer and report directly to Storm's End.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Harry Strickland shall be the Lord of Griffin's Roost.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Laswell Peake shall be the Lord of Bronzegate.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Duncan Strong shall be the Lord of Haystack Hall.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Lorimus Mudd shall be the Lord of Duskendale.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Lysono Maar shall serve as the Deputy Master of Whisperers. He shall assist Lord Varys in any way that Lord Varys requires due to his injuries.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Horas Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Vortimer Crane shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Ryon Allyrion shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, the Kingsguard, with the City Watch of Storm's End, shall conduct a thorough investigation into the death of Ser Arys Oakheart. His bones shall be returned to Lady Oakheart.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, mine aunt Daenarys Targareyn, the Dragonlady of Volantis, shall be my heir until Queen Arianne can produce a child. It is my wish to see the Targaryen family united and whole once more.

This is my will,
Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm"

Small Council of Aegon VI Targaryen
Kingsguard:
1 - Ser Franklyn Fossoway
2 - Ser Garth Hightower
3 - Ser Archibald Yronwood
4 - Ser Horas Redwyne
5 - Ser Vortimer Crane
6 - Ser Ryon Allyrion
Lord Commander - Ser Areo Hotah

Small Council:
Hand: Prince Doran Martell
Lord Commander: Ser Areo Hotah
Master of Coin: Lord Anders Yronwood
Master of Laws: Lord Randyll Tarly
Master of Whisperers: Lord Varys
Master of the Builders: Lord Titus Peake
Master of Ships: Lord Selwyn Tarth

Commander of the City Watch: Ser Rolly Duckfield
Small Council Advisors: None

[Spamage]

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Hobber Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Horas Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Paxter Redwyne is dead, one of his sons is Lord.

[DKrol]

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Hobber Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Horas Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Paxter Redwyne is dead, one of his sons is Lord.

Which one? They're twins so I don't know how inheritance would work.

[badgate]

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Hobber Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Ser Horas Redwyne shall be raised to the Kingsguard.

Paxter Redwyne is dead, one of his sons is Lord.

Which one? They're twins so I don't know how inheritance would work.

OOC: Twins probably have to fight to the death or something lol

[Talleyrand]

Whichever came out first; just like how Cersei would have been heir to Tywin had she been male. I guess it's up to Lumine to decide between Horas and Hobber for that honor.

[Lumine]

Huh, I did not think that would be an issue. After some consideration, Hobber Redwyne is the new Lord of the Arbor, Horas his heir.

[badgate]

Serious suggestion: since we don't know in the books who is the heir, perhaps Lumine can flip a coin?

[DKrol]

It has been fixed to reflect Hobber's lordship.

[DKrol]

Aegon VI

"Rise, Ser Ryon Allyrion." King Aegon embraced his seventh and final Kingsguard and presented him to the assembled Lords and Ladies. Ser Ryon stepped to the side and joined the ranks of the Kingsguard - including the other two newly minted brothers. Now I have a full seven, Aegon thought Perhaps this is a sign from the gods, blessing my reign. Aegon also now had a full Small Council, and a Queen as well. I'm beginning to look like a proper King.

He turned to the assembled and said "I have consummated my marriage. However, an heir has yet to grace our halls. Until a child is born of my union it is my will that Daenarys of House Targaryen - sister of me beloved father and Dragonlady of Volantis - shall be my sworn and proper heir. I name her Princess of Storm's End - the title that all heirs to the throne shall hold - and welcome her to Westeros with the open arms of a family long separated." There was mild applause from the Lords and Ladies, clearly that had been expecting an announcement of the birth of a proper heir.

"I thank you all for attending today's session of my court, and now I ask Commander Duckfield and the Crimson Cloaks to empty the Hall." Aegon sat on his throne and reached over to take his Queen's hand. He stole a glance at her belly, hoping for even the earliest sign of a pregnancy. Bedding the Queen had become difficult since the death of Ser Arys - she insisted on wearing black in mourning for the loss of the Sworn Brother. Only further proof of the doubts of your fidelity.

Once the hall was empty - save for several selected lords and knights - Aegon addressed his Small Council. "We are about to engage in a large scale assault." The King said. He had dressed in his finest crimson robes and wore his newly forged crown - a band of red gold studded with sapphires and rubies. He needed to appear as regal as possible for today's meetings. "This will be the largest host I've commanded since the landing of the Golden Company. For this operation, we must have the rigid organization of the Unsullied and the fierceness of the Dothraki."

"Lord Anders Yronwood, you shall command the vanguard of my host.

"Lord Duncan Strong, you shall command the scouts of my host.

"Lord Harry Strickland shall command the archers and Lord  Lorimas Mudd shall command our Elephant Company.

"Lord Laswell Peake, you shall have command over the left cavalry and Lord Robert Cafferen will have the right.

"The rear will be commanded by Lord Warryn Beesbury.

"I too shall ride with the host - holding command over the foot soldiers of the host, with Ser Vortimer Crane as my deputy."

Aegon paused and looked to his Small Council for their opinion. None expressed their discontent. "We are setting out to assert ourselves as a force not to be rivaled with - any Stormlord who dares defy our force will quickly be sent to the Seven for eternal judgement."

"Lord Commander Areo, I name you Castellan of Storm's End. You are to hold this castle at any cost and protect my Queen from any harm. Ser Horas and Ser Franklyn will remain here to assist the Lord Commander. The remaining Kingsguard - Sers Garth, Archibald, and Allyrion - will accompany me and serve as my personal guard during this campaign." King Aegon rose from his seat, bringing his wife to a stand with him.

"I will enjoy the greatest pleasure the Seven could give a man - the warmth of his wife - once more. At first light, we ride."

[badgate]

Yohn Royce

He descended the sharp stone steps of his castle. The first level below the ground floor were cells meant for highborn captives. Between a muffled layer of stone were these cells and the black cells, a dark level meant for common captives. Still, he went further down, to the final level of the castle. Normally it was pitch black, but he had told the household servants he would be descending today, so they lit sconces on their stair.

The steps ended in a wide, low-ceilinged chamber. Torches had been lit all along the walls. The Bronze Room. Deep below Runestone, you could hear the waves crash against rock. The ceiling of the Room was strongly fortified. There was a kitchen with vents for smoke and a freshwater spring down one of the secret passages the Room had. The walls were studded bronze plates on stone, with black runes punched into the bronze. The inlay of the runes were painted in black. For centuries House Royce had cherished this room above all others in their castle. The noble family could fortify themselves in it for half a year with proper provisions. Every Royce was born in this room, and every Royce buried in the sea cave crypts that a second hidden tunnel led to. Across the Room were plush furniture, a sitting area, a dining area, an empty floor for dancing, and at the far end were five modest featherbeds separated by screens made with obsidian and framed by cherry wood.

In Bronze Yohn Royce's arms were a brilliant rainbow cloak folded on top of a black cloak. The bones had been buried a fortnight ago, but with the fuss and distraction of the Great Council of the Vale, Bronze Yohn had been distracted. Here comes the hard part. The Royces who had carved the tunnels out of the Bronze Room were of the First Men, but it was said there were Children of the Forest blood in the family as well. Yohn was six feet and an odd inch or two, but the Royces who had carved these tunnels were probably five and three quarters, at best. Yohn crouched and walked down the narrow path. It was only enough room to go one way; groups had to walk single file.

Two sons had left Yohn forever. Waymar, his third son had been a bit spoiled, but skilled in many a field. Yohn had counseled him to reconsider taking the black cloak of the Night's Watch. He was highborn, a knight, and would surely rise quickly at The Wall; but not all third sons had to go to The Wall. He had said as much to Waymar. He'd even offered to carve land and grant gold to build a keep somewhere on the Gulltown peninsula. Waymar only smiled and said "no father, I am a man grown. And I have chosen. I will give my life and my sword to the noble order of the Night's Watch." They had gone together, from Runestone to The Eyrie, from the Bloody Gate to the Inn at the Crossroads. Waymar insisted on taking a Gulltown boat to Eastwatch-By-The-Sea, but Yohn refused. "If you're going to go, you're going on my terms. You're never going to leave the damned Wall, might as well see as much of Westeros as you can before you take your vows."

In the Riverlands they struck north, stopping at Seagard to call on Yohn's old friend Jason Mallister. Then to the Twins, where they only stayed a night out of courtesy. At Winterfell, Lord Eddard's beautiful little daughter had fallen madly in love with Waymar, declaring him brave and valiant and begging her father to get Waymar to forsake the Night's Watch. Yohn and Eddard had joked at how adorable it was, and the day they left Winterfell Waymar asked Lady Catelyn to take him to the glass gardens, where he plucked a beautiful white rose that he gave to Sansa when they said goodbye. The Umbers, close friends to the men at the Watch, feasted Waymar for his service. It served to inflate his hopes and expectations.

The Wall itself did not disappoint. They saw it one morning, an hour after sunrise when they climbed a sloping hill to its zenith. To the east it was bathed in red and yellow and orange. Due north, you could see the icy wall glistening like a crystal, and to the east there were still mists that floated as high as fifty feet above the wall. Waymar smiled, but it was a sad smile. His spirits lessened with their arrival at Castle Black. His shock at the men who would be his brothers: a man who'd raped, a three-fingered cook, an exile knight who'd served House Targaryen in King's Landing was the masters-at-arms. But Waymar made easy friends with many of the rangers, as well as a gruff and bawdy man named Yoren who traveled Westeros rounding up new recruits for the Watch. Lord Commander lent Yohn an escort of five men to return south; at Last Hearth the five brothers were exchanged for five Umber men; at Winterfell Lord Stark sent Yohn down the White Knife, where he caught a fast galley out of White Harbor and bound for Gulltown. The entire journey home he remembered Waymar's mixture of happiness and disappointment. It had been plain on his face when he spoke the words in the sept.

It was after King Robert's death that Bronze Yohn's second son left. Ser Robar Royce was good friends with Lord Renly Baratheon. Robar had been warded at Storm's End, and served as a squire there before being knighted. His was the rainbow cloak. It was said Loras Tyrell had killed Robar while mad with grief. He was there when Renly died, Yohn thought. He was his kingsguard, and he failed his vows. That wasn't reason to kill him. Renly was a fool for crowning himself in the first place, as far as Yohn was concerned. He had implored his son to return to Runestone with him and Andar the night Robert died, but that morning at sunrise, Robar was gone, and Renly Baratheon as well.

At the end the tunnel opened into a high-ceilinged cave with spikes of rock formation jutting from the ground and out of the roof. There were rows of windows that stretched the length of the far wall. They were slanted upwards, hidden to the eye below. There was a trap door in the corner that led to a cellar lined with boxes of ashes, the burned remains of older Royces.

The tide crashed against the rock as the sound echoed up, and up, and up. Yohn went and knelt before the two stones bearing Robar and Waymar's names. He murmured a few words. Below their names were the Royce house words engraved in runes. We Remember. Standing, he unfurled the rainbow cloak and laid it over the stone. Then the black cloak that his son had worn on his journey north. A nameday gift, Yohn reflected, Andar knew what Waymar intended, and got him this cloak. Of course when they got to The Wall it had proved inadequate even for the summer winds and snows.

He stood vigil for an hour, maybe more, looking down on his sons' graves. Waymar's remains were not truly there; Lord Commander Mormont had written with due courtesy and regrets that his life was lost beyond the Wall, and he had never been recovered. Lord Mace Tyrell had seen fit to turn over Robar's remains to the Silent Sisters of the Great Sept, who assembled the bones best they could and bore them through the war-torn Riverlands to arrive at Runestone for burial. The day he had received the bones he had saddled a horse and rode to the Eyrie, and forced Lady Lysa to give him audience. "You let this come to pass. You, who refused to rally the Vale to fight for your sister, for your king, for your lord husband's killers-"

"Bronze Yohn," she would say in that shrill and drawling voice. "You are not Lord of the Eyrie, no, you are not. And wee shall not go to war!" He'd not even stayed the night in the mountain castle, instead deferring to take a midnight descent with the bastard Mya Stone and staying with his cousin Lord Nestor at the Moon Gate.

"We remember," Lord Yohn murmured, and then said it again as his eyes drifted from the second son's tomb to the third son's tomb. "We remember."

[Lumine]

The Blackfish:

(Listening “Night on Bald Mountain” while writing this one really helped with the atmosphere)

I don’t feel guilty about taking that piss. He thought, having left his mind to wander without purpose. That Frey scumbag might have taken out the rest, but not me. And for Ser Brynden Tully, being alive was extremely important right now. He had not killed countless men at the War of the Ninepenny Kings for no reason. He was stubborn enough to live then, and he was certainly stubborn enough to keep on going now. After all, he could not allow those decades of fighting his brother over his right not to marry to become nothing. And he had a duty to fulfill.

-No point in going through the night in the middle of nowhere.- He said to no one, dismounting and approaching the nearest tree to rest -

The duty he was supposed to fulfill that had quickly lost a good part of its meaning when Euron Greyjoy burnt down the Twins. It’s not that I dislike the idea of that darned places burning down, but I would have liked to do it myself. That meant he would have to bring Casterly Rock now, a much harder task. On the other hand, he could focus on Sansa, but only the gods knew what would become of her. And the bastard… how could he trust the bastard? Robb may have trusted him, but then again Robb trusted Lord Frey and he met his own demise.

And in the tree he was, lying down as he wondered on the future, when the smell broke through his nose. Something was burning. He hoped it wasn’t a village as he stood up, the full moon helping to see through the darkness. A large column of smoke drifted through the sky, letting him now that it was indeed a good fire. He knew he was near Harrenhal, which is why he was surprised at the fire.

-It’s either a bloke… or a bloke with a large army behind him.-

And he started to walk as he made sure the horse was properly tied. On a different night Ser Brynden would have probably left the place, but he was tired of running away ever since they had allowed him to escape from Riverrun. The smoke rose higher and higher as he heard chanting. Seven hells, not the damned Sparrows again. I don’t want to be forced to punch another one, not tonight. And as he was finally able to see the fire, the still warn corpse of a sparrow lying on the dirt only fueled his suspicions.

He kept walking as the fire looked larger, and finally he found a rock where to hide while looking at the daunting scene. It was a graveyard, and for a small moment the Blackfish believed that the dead were dancing around the stranger. But no, several tombs were opened, several outlaws –they couldn’t be other thing – danced along the fire, a bald man was singing in what could only be a tongue from Essos, and corpses of dead sparrows filled the place. And then he saw what was burning.

-Seven Hells.-

It was a large stake turned into a massive funeral pyre, a burning corpse tied down as pieces of it fell on the ground. And a woman danced slowly opposite to the pyre, her face cloaked and dressed as if she was the stranger in person.

-You’re not a sparrow, are you? – Asked a man behind him, surrounded by some of the outlaws–
-I piss on the sparrows.-
-Aye, so do we. Who are you? –

Decisions, decisions…

-Ser Brynden Tully, they call me the Blackfish.

I’m tired of running.

-Tully, you say? – The man looked uneasy – Of Riverrun? –
-Aye.-
-You must come with us.-

It’s not like I can protest.

The men didn’t even bother to take his sword as the escorted him to the fire, the other men looking at him with curiosity. The man who led the group went to speak to the bald man, who appeared to be shocked. He walked towards him.

-Ser Brynden?-
-Yes.-
-This is most unexpected… although we might call it fortunate.-
-Care to explain what you’re burning?-
-You mean “whom” we’re burning.-
-Yes.-
-That is none other than the former Lord of this place, Ser. Petyr Baelish.- And he spat –

The Blackfish could not help but to remember the boy who was once fostered in Riverrun, the man who had loved Cat only to betray her. But for all the hate he felt at Baelish, taking his corpse and burning him was certainly not something he had in mind.

-Who would command such a thing?-

And then the woman stopped dancing, as if she had suddenly noticed him. She walked towards him, slowly, until they were as close as possible. Her skin looked as if she was dead, and when she revealed what was behind the cloak, Ser Brynden knew what true terror was.

-Cat.-
-She is Lady Stoneheart now, Ser. – Said the bald man – And she remembers.-

[Dereich]

EDICT ON THE RELIGION OF THE REALM

I, Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms by right of birth and blood, do this day declare:

It is proper that all should have liberty to follow that mode of religion which to each of them appeared best; so that that R'hllor, source of all good, might be benign and propitious to us, and to every one under my government. And therefore I judged it a salutary measure that no man should be denied leave of attaching himself to the rites of the Red God, or to whatever other religion his mind directed him, that thus the true God, to whose worship we freely devote ourselves, might continue to vouchsafe His favour and beneficence to us. And accordingly I give you to know that all who choose the religion of the Lord of Light are to be permitted, freely and absolutely, to remain in it, and not to be disturbed any ways, or molested. Moreover, all monies and temples appropriated from His worshipers are to be immediately returned to their rightful owners.

Those fanatics who are known as "sparrows" reject my authority and would deny my subjects these rights. They have disrupted the natural order and forced Septon Rickard, the legitimate High Septon out of the Starry Sept. They ignore King Maegor's laws and arm themselves to terrorize the smallfolk. These zealots and the pretender they support will be purged in the flames of the Lord of Light. All Septons and right thinking men who flee from the Sparrow's persecution are welcome to my protection. They will receive no punishment and face no retribution for their previous beliefs.

So Say the King,
Stannis of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, the Lightbringer, Protector of the Realm ect.

[DKrol]

A Proclamation from King Aegon

"It is my good and true will, with the Seven as my witness, that Aurane Waters shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate son of House Velaryon.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Obara Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Nymeria Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Tyene Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Sarella Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Elia Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Obella Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Dorea Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell.

Further, with the Seven as my witness, Loreza Sand shall be erased from bastardry and be a legitimate daughter of House Nymeros Martell. 

Further, with the Seven as my witness, the High Septon formerly known as Gerris is hereby summoned to Storm's End to attend my Queen and ensure her spiritual well being.

This is my will,
Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm"

Small Council of Aegon VI Targaryen
Kingsguard:
1 - Ser Franklyn Fossoway
2 - Ser Garth Hightower
3 - Ser Archibald Yronwood
4 - Ser Horas Redwyne
5 - Ser Vortimer Crane
6 - Ser Ryon Allyrion
Lord Commander - Ser Areo Hotah

Small Council:
Hand: Prince Doran Martell
Lord Commander: Ser Areo Hotah
Master of Coin: Lord Anders Yronwood
Master of Laws: Lord Randyll Tarly
Master of Whisperers: Lord Varys
Master of the Builders: Lord Titus Peake
Master of Ships: Lord Selwyn Tarth

Commander of the City Watch: Ser Rolly Duckfield

[DKrol]

Aegon VI

Blackfyre - the sword that launched five rebellions will be the sword to win me my kingdom. Aegon wiped the Valyrian hand-and-a-half longsword down with his oilcloth, removing the last remnants of blood that were on it. I slew my first man today he thought I could have hung the outlaw, but that would have been too kind. The vanguard had come across a band of outlaws in the Kingswood and sent the leader back to the King for judgement. Blackfyre cut through the man's neck faster than a noose could be tied.

"Your Grace..." Aegon's squire - Perros Blackmont - came into the tent with a parchment in hand. He handed it to Aegon and began to undress the King from his armor.

Aegon read over the parchment, expecting word from one of his generals or his Hand. The Seven are truly great! Aegon thought after he read it for a second time. He turned to Perros and embraced the young Dornishman. Aegon threw his armor off and ran out of his tent to the makeshift council room that had been put up a few tents away.

"My Lords," Aegon said as he strode in. Lords Yronwood, Peake, Beesbury, and Strong were in the middle of pouring over a map and looked up. "The Queen is with child." The tent burst into applause, leading other knights, soldiers, and Lords to enter and join in the celebration.

Aegon had drained two cups of ale before he stepped out for air and to make water. Winter is coming, as the Starks say Aegon told himself as he relaced his pants Let's see the Fire Demon keep Stannis' army fed. It got him thinking about the Starks and his young ward back in Storm's End - Sansa Lannister, wife of the Imp and half-sister of the Bastard. A sorry life for someone so young and beautiful.

[Garlan Gunter]

A Device for the Succession and Governance of Driftmark

Lord Monterys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides, does hereby declare his trusted and well-beloved uncle, Aurane Velaryon, Lord Regent of Driftmark and Admiral of Blackwater Bay, to be his sole and undisputed heir until such time as he should produce lawful issue.

Furthermore, Lord Velaryon announces his own betrothal to the Princess Loreza of House Martell, and that of his aforesaid trusty uncle and regent, Aurane Velaryon, to the Lady Brienne, of House Tarth, and heiress to the Sapphire Isle. The weddings are to be celebrated at Driftmark upon the arrival of the brides

Finally, Lord Velaryon, at the advice of his uncle and regent aforesaid, announces the intention of retiring, for his own greater safety and that of his bride, upon a tour of the Free Cities, trusting in his uncle the Lord Regent and Admiral to safeguard his dominions until his education be complete and the war concluded.

Long live the true king!

[Garlan Gunter]

A Further Declaration, for the Avoidance of Doubt

House Velaryon forthwith hauls up the dragon banners of House Targaryen. We are the Old, the True, the Brave, as we have ever been! To be certain, Lord Monford Velaryon burned fighting for Lord Stannis on the Blackwater; but Lord Lucerys was Master of Ships to King Aerys before him, and at the time of the Blackwater no true dragon claimant was to be found in Westeros.

Now affairs are quite different. Fire and Blood.

Signed in the sight of the old gods and the new,

Lord Monterys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides

Aurane Velaryon, Lord Regent of Driftmark

[Garlan Gunter]

THE LORD OF THE TIDES




The old, the true, the brave. Lord Monterys Velaryon was but young, seven at his last, late nameday, when mourning black for his lord father palled over the sea horses of an island lorn and bereft. Neither did he feel so very brave, now, though some tremor of courage had thrilled through him in the grey morn not long since, when he rode at the poop deck of his uncle’s flagship, Seasmoke – once the King Robert – to visit Crackclaw Point. But he did hope, at the very least, to be true.

His father been true and brave both, but he had fallen all too young, blazed to death in the cause of Lord Stannis. A grim time had succeeded, when the fortress of Driftmark was cramped with hard-faced Stormlanders, scheming Reachmen, and Queen’s Men with half-mad glances in their sharp eyes. That was before the young lord’s bastard nuncle had come back.

Smile at Aurane if you will, but pay him small heed. He is the pleasantest and the lightest of your grandsire’s follies, so Monterys’s own father had half-jibed, half-warned him with a queer grin, when he was scarce more than a babe. His grandsire, Lord Lucerys Velaryon, Master of Ships, had fought for the Dragon Kings to the end, and drowned for them. His father, Lord Monford, had served the stags warily but truly, and had burned for them. As for Aurane, he seemed much as his trueborn brother had warned, a genial, witty spirit, more like a young cousin than an uncle, free as the wind and of little more weight. Only we Velaryons made our fortunes by the winds. Father should have guessed they would blow his bastard brother back some day.

Aurane Waters, not even a knight but known all over the Narrow Sea for a skilled sailor, had gone away for a mariner when hardly a man grown. When Lord – no, we called him King in those days – Stannis had called the banners, Aurane returned for the first time, a sellsail captain with a pointed beard and half a dozen fast galleys. He followed my father to Dragonstone and the Blackwater, and after Maester Falgird got that raven, we never expected either back. Only defeated men had come then, stern King’s Men and Queen’s both, who insisted on naming Monterys as Lord. They had authority for that. More than a few of them had seen his father die.

But it was not the last men heard or told of the Bastard of Driftmark. He was noised to have been made a captive, to have forsworn the beaten cause of Stannis before the Iron Throne. He was seen at court; he had won the false king Joffrey’s favour there; he was sure to be named Master of Ships, even as his father Lord Lucerys had once been. And then, on the night the sky turned red, Aurane Waters returned to Driftmark.

Stannis’s garrison had not expected an attack so soon, nor in such force – all the might of a ruined capital in freefall, carried on vast dromonds built like fortresses. The stag in its fiery heart was seized down, and nothing succeeded it. The seahorse flew alone. Lord Aurane – he called himself lord, admiral and regent all now – was whispered to be Tommen’s man still, to have heeded the false king’s spymaster, Qyburn, close at his side. But if that were so, he did nothing to prove it, save to give Qyburn, lord or not, hard lodgings, worse by far than Maester Falgird’s.

When Aurane joined his nephew – and it was not infrequently – he was as jolly a nuncle as ever. On the whole, Monterys preferred this new life, with close kin at his side again. The old maester seemed less happy, especially whenever the Lord Regent saw Qyburn alone. For himself, Monterys rather liked Qyburn, whether villain, traitor and sorcerer or not, with his funny white robes and his friendly, intriguing, grandfatherly smile. But Lord Aurane kept his young lord and ward out of the old spymaster’s way quite as firmly as Falgird could have desired.

That was the argument that had brought him here, a lord hiding in his own castle solar, nestled behind a faded tapestry where the Sea Snake’s vessel had conveniently see-through rigging. For Monterys was interested enough in the one Falgird called false master to a false king to want to observe his speech to his nuncle in secret. To prove the maester’s fears misguided once and for all.

No doubt they had much to discuss, Uncle Aurane and Qyburn. The former goldcloaks, Velaryon men, everyone said it was past time for the Regent to choose a new king. The fate of Claw Isle was a warning. That must have been what his nuncle had been about, conferring that morn with the Crackclaw petty lords. And it was the bastard’s voice that came first now, fair as a lute, stinging as a knife-cut.

“Our preparations were made. That old fool’s hoard was our best hope. You ought to have foreseen this. It is to foresee such things that I feed you, rather than the fishes upon you.”

He was an elegant figure, Uncle Aurane, in the slashed silk coloured for Driftmark with a splash of crimson samite thrown boldly over one shoulder. He was grinning, as ever, but he was angered for all that, angry as, Monterys realised now, he never let himself appear before his nephew.

“You might use gentler courtesies with me, Lord Waters,” the spymaster replied in his appeasing voice, kindly, weary, reasonable. “I am as much a lord as yourself, after all.”

“Aye, and we both know how much that is. Enough prating, old man. I have a leal garrison and a scatheless fleet. You have a price on your head for murder, banditry and the gods know what else, in any man’s dominion but mine. Have a care.”

Qyburn’s smile and his temper matched the bastard’s, Monterys saw with a quiver, as well as a dancer’s, or an adversary with blade in hand. “Who slew the Knight of Flowers, my lord of the Waters?”

Aurane’s gesture was dismissive enough to make the tapestry skew. “The avenger of King Joffrey. Ser Loras was Kingslayer the Second, sure as my mother whored in Hull, and I was fond of that bloodcraving whelp. He had hinted I was to have Dragonstone when the war was done.” The bastard’s laugh was hollow. “Now it’d seem Dragonstone‘ll have us soon enough, unless I sharpen our game fast. Some crossbowmen killed Tyrell. I don’t know whose they were, and I don’t know where you are. Or won’t, soon enough. Understood? The Dornish do not love you, Qyburn. Nor does ‘Aegon Sand’. If I mean to declare for this new dragon…”

“If…?” the older man, with his oddly youthful quickness of thought, retorted with a sourness that sat strangely amid those mild wrinkles.

“Never mind that. I trust Falgird with the ravens, not the likes of you. I have another task in mind for you. And it’s not educating my lord nevvy, either. Monterys, come out of there at once. You forget I grew up here too, e’en if my times in the solar were scarcer. No child of Velaryon, baseborn or no, is ignorant of the old Seasnake’s Rigging trick.”

His thin, pale face reddening fast, the young Lord of the Tides obeyed his uncle.

“No harm done, my lord,” Aurane Waters declared equably. “Run along back to the maester. Ask him to tell you about wooing highborn brides. You’ll find his answers useful sooner than you expect…and amusing at once, I do not doubt.”