Chapter 8: King's Landing

POV Ser Lyan Manderly

The wind had turned cold from Blackwater Bay when the raven landed on the perch outside his window. A message was dropped from its beak. The black bird flew off into the grey, dreary sky. The northerner grabbed it and unfurled the message. A request to join Prince Aegon at the palace, immediately. Something he couldn't refuse.

He sighed heavily, draping the white cloaks around him. His sword was stationary at his side, dark hair in stark contrast to the rest of his outfit. He opened the wooden door to his temporary home, and rain was beginning to patter the steps. Lyan's feet carried him quickly as he dashed through the largely empty streets. The Red Keep was a massive fixture in the skyline.

His eyes matched the sky above him, both a perfect stormy grey color. The steps to the Red Keep were strangely unguarded, no even City Guard stationed at the doors. He slipped inside the door, hurrying to the throne room with all the urgency of a man's job on the line.

Aegon Targaryen was a few years younger than Lyan himself. The young prince was maybe 20 or 21, while Lyan was nearly 25 now, having served the Kingsguard under his father for seven years. His years in the palace had changed his perception of the prince.

Now, as he knelt down below the throne, looking up at the violet eyes of the future King, something struck Lyan. His eyes had changed, filled with the icy determination that many men wore, but Aegon had rarely. He looked like he'd gotten little or no sleep, gripping the arms of the throne too hard. It was a mighty uncomfortable chair, but he'd never seen a previous king do that. The worst thing was the anger that seemed to pool in the back of the Prince's eyes.

"Rise, Ser Manderly," The prince said coldly.

Lyan got to his feet, standing at the foot of the throne. He stared at the prince. It was an uncomfortable duration of time before he began to speak.

"Young Ser Manderly," Aegon mused, tapping his pale chin thoughtfully. "I would be honored for you to serve as my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

Lyan tried to hide his surprise. "If I can ask, your Grace, what of the other Kingsguard that rank above me?"

Aegon waved his hand dismissively. "They do not suit my needs for now. We still have a vacancy as well. I wish you to be the leader of them."

Lyan gave a short nod. He had entertained the possibility of being Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but he had imagined it being far in the future, not quite the time he was thinking. Either way, he could do nothing about it now. "I accept, your Grace."

"Good," Aegon said curtly, getting up from the throne. "My first appointment to the small council is done. My second arrives here shortly."

As if on cue, the massive doors of the palace swung open. In walked a curious blend of a man, having the pale blonde hair of the Targaryens, yet not the eyes, having instead a tan complexion and dark eyes.

As if Aegon could see his puzzled expression, he began to explain, "My aunt married into House Allyrion in Dorne. This is my cousin, Aeravar Allyrion."

The man gave a short nod of his head, walking crisply to stand beside Lyan. They were near in height, yet Aeravar lacked muscle, a thin, wiry man he was. His eyes seemed to take in everything, watching Lyan closely and looking at Aegon. It seemed like he could see Lyan even without being near him. The eyes seemed to follow Lyan when he shuffled in place.

"Lord Allyrion, I would be honored to ask for your ascension to the Master of Whispers title. Few know the depths of the Red Keep better than a Targaryen, and as I have heard it, your own networks are becoming large?" Aegon asked.

"Yes," The man had a subtle Dornish accent, but it flowed in melody with the usual Targaryen. "From all over Westeros to Essos' Free Cities, yes, I do have informants."

"Well, then," Aegon beckoned them follow. "Let us have our first impromptu small council meeting. I have not yet heard much of what the various lords are doing."

Aeravar marched after him as soon as he finished talking, but Lyan hesitated before doing the same. The two seemed to work in tandem with each other well, being family and all. Lyan didn't know if he could feel more out of place than he already did. When the other positions were filled, he assured himself, he would feel much more at ease.

"Who do you intend to name Hand of the King?" Aeravar asked as he took a seat opposite the prince. Lyan edged forward in his own chair, looking forward to the reply.

"I do not know, that is what I was hoping for aid from you," Aegon replied, looking more like a startled boy than the king he was supposed to be in that moment.

Aeravar laid out a broad swath of papers on the table. "There are only three options in my mind. You must have a Lord Paramount, to add legitimacy to your reign. Which limits us down to just eight."

"And of those eight?" Aegon prompted.

"Lords Tully, Arryn, Stark, and Baratheon are out because of the rebellion. Which brings you down to four. Greyjoy is a nonstarter, there is no way anyone would see that as an acceptable appointment. The last three are Houses Tyrell, Martell, and Lannister." Aeravar replied, setting out three longer sheets of paper, as if he had thought that this would occur.

"There are arguments for each and every one of them." He continued. "Lord Tyrell commands the largest single army on this continent. Not the brightest bulb, but he would do fine as Hand. Lord Lannister is one of the most powerful lords in Westeros, holding nearly all of the debt that we have accumulated."

Aegon started to interject, but Aeravar stopped him. "We have tried bargaining, nothing has worked. An appointment, though, would maybe soften his resolve. Lastly, House Martell has two options. Lord Olyvar is the oldest on this list, but perhaps the wisest. His son Edric holds some of his intelligence, but not all of it."

Aegon was finally given the chance to speak, looking like he was making the decision in his head. "Lord Lannister would be too powerful would we appoint him to this position. Not him, not now. Maybe something else, but not this. Hands can be replaced, so there's no need to have Edric if we can appoint Olyvar instead."

"So, your choice is Lord Martell?" Aeravar replied, grabbing his paper.

"Not necessarily," Aegon quieted him before he could begin to speak again. "Lord Tyrell would be important to have on our side. Now, you are already on the council and are from Dorne, therefore giving the Dornish a voice on the council. Besides Lord Redwyne, maybe, I am not sure I can find places for the Reach."

"Like you said," Lord Allyrion began. "Hand is not a lifetime appointment. They can be removed and replaced. If you would like Lord Martell to serve in the capacity for a few years while you get the hold on being King, then offer the position to Lord Tyrell after that, I would not see a problem in it."

Aegon's eyes flashed at being contradicted but calmed after a few moments of thinking. "Yes, I suppose you are right, cousin. Send a raven to Dorne to ask Lord Olyvar to come to the coronation personally."

"Consider it done," Allyrion replied, with a slight smile on his face that the King missed.

"Anything further?" Aegon asked.

Lyan was simply observing at that point, figuring he had nothing to add to the conversation.

"Yes, actually," Lord Allyrion pulled out an old sheet of paper. "'This is a royal order given by your father. No houses that support the Usurper are granted the ability to marry their Lords Paramount to any Lady of another great house, or vice versa.' You have the choice to renew this, limiting it further for the Tullys, Arryns, Starks, and Baratheons. Lord Stark has already married Lady Manderly, therefore putting him out of the picture. The other three have not yet."

"I-I don't see a problem with letting it expire," Aegon responded, crossing his arms on the table. "It's been years, that's punishment enough. Reconciliation is more important now."

"Don't let your feelings blind you," Allyrion said sharply. "Do not forget that many of these houses still harbor ill will."

Lyan expected anger at being treated in such a way on the part of the prince, but he said nothing. He simply watched Allyrion. Clearly, the family did not know who was in charge quite yet. "I believe that the houses have served their punishments enough," Aegon stated again.

Allyrion threw down a piece of paper, showing it to the other two seated. "This is a written testimonial of a Dornish woman stating that Lady Tully was in Sunspear wishing to marry off one of her sons or daughters." He threw down an additional one. "And this of a Riverland fisherman who saw Lord Greyjoy arriving in Riverrun to discuss marriage plans."

"And that means?" Aegon asked, relaxing back into his chair.

"It means that the House has no respect for you or your father. As you had not rescinded this order, it was still on the books. By doing this, they have directly gone against royal order." Allyrion replied.

Lyan wasn't quite sure what Lord Allyrion was trying to prove. Positioning between major houses happened often, and he wasn't surprised that the Tullys were doing it. In fact, they were experts at it. Aegon seemed to be coming to the same conclusion as he was.

"Rescind the order," Aegon ordered. "They've done enough as it is, there's no reason to keep treating them as a conquered people. Soon they'll start believing it." He stood up abruptly.

Lyan followed him out, the only Kingsguard in the castle, it seemed, going to protect him regardless of what happened in the future. He noticed Allyrion's stormy eyes following him on his way out.

. . .

Part 2

POV Lady Alissa Tully

She stared out at the open sea beyond the keep of Seagard. The waves seemed a dull dark blue-grey color that seemed ominous to her. Alissa's hair was done up tightly in a red bun, her blue dress whipping in the wind. She hadn't had the heart to tell her family when she'd be leaving and left silently in the night. Now, she stood in the home of one of her brother's closest allies, waiting to be taken to her new home.

Lord Faron Mallister was an old man, nearing his 90s, but he was sweet as could be. His wrinkled hand grabbed a firm hold of hers.

His black hair had turned grey a long time ago. His eyes were hard and watching the sea before them. "No one in Seagard would blame you if you chose to not do this." His speech was remarkably clear for as old of a man he was.

"I know," Alissa responded softly, watching as the massive Mallister ship was prepared for her departure.

"My grandson, Shale, would be more than happy to take you to wife, if you needed an excuse," The elderly Mallister continued.

Some other ladies would've seen it as suggestive, or opportune. Alissa knew the man just wanted the best for her and saw it as he had meant it. She gave him a quiet smile. "He is a charming young man, but I must do as my brother has commanded. A Tully does not run from their promises."

The giant sail of the Mallisters was taken down from the ship and replaced with the leaping trout of the Tullys. The ladder was set down, and she walked towards it to climb. Once she'd gotten on the deck of the boat, there was only a half dozen guards there – all Tullys, as well. Lord Greyjoy had been clear that he did not want other Riverland houses there in the stead of Tully guards. Once she was delivered safely, the guards would return the ship to the Mallisters and sail home.

She was escorted to the captain's chambers, sitting down on the rickety old bed that was ironed into the floor. Her eyes did not shed a tear, to her surprise. She was going to where no other person from the mainland had gone in decades. Her thoughts consumed her.

Once again, she was reminded of her days in Riverrun, dreaming of marrying some highborn lord. The beautiful Tyrells, sexy Martells, or even the brooding Starks up north. She never had thought of the Greyjoys just beyond the sea. It hadn't been done and had never occurred to her before. Unbidden, thoughts of resentment surfaced about her other sister. Kyva would certainly be going south, not anywhere near as unpleasant as she was about to reach. Now, none of her family would be there to see her wedding or give her away.

The thought of marrying Shale Mallister had tempted her more than she had liked to admit. They were a powerful Riverland house, even the Greyjoys could not wield that much power in Auster's eyes. It would've caused much strife, but it would have settled down in the end. He was an honorable man. Certainly more so than a Reaver like Dagon Greyjoy.

She knew little of the man she was to marry. Some said he was a reformer in the Islands, more careful and cautious than some of his predecessors. Others said he was a large, brutish man who could snap the neck of a fully-grown man if they wronged him. She wasn't sure which one she would meet once she arrived in Pyke.

The ship slowed the closer they got to the Iron Islands. The waters were more unruly, causing the ship to slosh back and forth in the open water. The storm that raged above them pelted water down onto the ship, leaking through the floor and dripping unceremoniously onto her open palm. Slowly, the ship came to a stop, and she heard the dull thud once it hit land.

The door to her chambers opened. "Welcome, Lady Tully, to Lordsport," One of the guards said, walking in and holding his arm out for her to take.

"Lordsport?" She asked quizzically as they walked out the deck. The rain pelted her, immediately chilling her to her core.

"The only safe passage to Pyke is from Lordsport. It is much too dangerous to dock at Pyke." The guard explained while he escorted her through the town.

Lordsport was quiet during the rain and looked like it had a good glow to it with the rain accenting its lights. It wasn't too long before she saw the hulking palace of Pyke. The years of climate had chipped away at the edges of the rock.

"Here's where I leave you." The knight bowed his head to her. "You will make the rest of the journey alone."

Her teeth chattered, and she headed up the road to Pyke. The doors were massive, and the palace exuded a dark sort of power, not one she had seen before. An old knight stood off to the side, presumably guarding the door.

"You came," The knight noted. "Lady Kyva, welcome to Pyke."

"Thank you," She forced her voice to be louder than it normally was, walking after the knight.

"Lord Greyjoy insisted to see you upon your arrival," He said, heading up and up many flights of stairs. "He has retired for the night, however."

The knight knocked heavily on one of the doors towards the top of the stairs. They waited for what seemed like eternity before the door swung open. The pale Lord Greyjoy stood in front of her. He towered over her, her head going to barely meet his chest. She had her head tilted up to look him in the eyes, and his dark brown ones looked back at her.

"Thank you," He said to the knight and the old man began the long walk back down. Greyjoy gestured for her to come inside.

Alissa went inside the room and looked around. There were mementos, pictures of people she didn't know or understand. There was a window that looked out on the sea and the rocks below. His bed was massive, covered in dark covers, and a couch and chair were seated to the side of it.

"I trust you made it here safely?" Greyjoy said, disappearing into a side room for a minute.

"Yes, thank you," Alissa responded. "Everyone was the most kind."

She stayed standing while she waited for him to return. She folded her arms, feeling cold, soaked. Her teeth chattered, dancing from foot to foot. She immediately stilled once the man reentered the room. He had towels in his arms, adorned with the Greyjoy kraken on them. Without a word, he stepped behind her and began to drape the towels across her shoulders, around her middle, wiping her arms and legs. She shivered, the warmth beginning to rush back to her joints.

"Your brother did not come," Greyjoy noted, leading her to sit down on one of the chairs.

"No," Alissa said. "He is preparing to go to the coronation as soon as he is able."

"If…you wish, the ceremony can wait until your brother has a chance to return. If it would make you feel more at home," He told her.

Alissa was surprised. Honestly, she'd thought that being brought up here meant that she was going to go through a quick ceremony tonight and then have to share his bed as well. His words were painting a different picture.

"That's okay," Alissa declined politely. "He's very busy with everything, and it would be much better for you to attend the coronation with a Lady Greyjoy at your side."

"Only if you are certain," He responded, the two of them not making eye contact.

"I am, Lord Greyjoy." Alissa replied.

"Your quarters are a room down on your right," He responded, helping her to her feet. "And it's Dagon." He flashed a quick grin before retreating back into his rooms once she'd left.

A/N: I've decided that instead of doing one shorter chapter twice a week or so, I'd do one longer chapter every week or week and a half. This is the beginning of the actual story! Excited to begin!