Brynden
"Rodrick Greyjoy, you have been brought before the Small Council to answer for the actions of your brother, Lord Quellon Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke." Brynden had said in a voice of iron.
Rodrick Greyjoy had been brought to King's Landing some twenty years ago as a hostage for his brother's good behaviour after Dagon Greyjoy's raids on the north and west of Westeros had been put down by Brynden's uncle Prince Maekar. Greyjoy had been but three years old and had grown up in the Red Keep alongside Brynden, they had grown up to be quite close, the brother that Brynden had never had. Of course the reason for Rodrick being present in King's Landing still hung heavy in the air between them, and Brynden could remember the number of times that his mother had warned him to never become to close to Rodrick. Now the man- whom Brynden had chosen as his brother- stood in front of the Iron Throne, tall and proud, though looking shaken.
His friend had stood there in front of the Iron Throne, and had merely said "I know not what my brother is doing on Pyke Your Grace. Nor would I know, I have not been to Pyke since I was a wee boy, in case you had forgotten."
Brynden tensed on the throne, "I had not forgotten Lord Rodrick, but as you are the only member of House Greyjoy currently in residence here in King's Landing, you must answer for your brother. Therefore I shall ask you once more, do you know what your brother Lord Quellon intends to do with his fleet?" Brynden replied tersely.
"And I say once more Your Grace, that I do not know what my brother intends to do with the Iron Fleet. I have not been to Pyke in sometime, nor have I spoken with my brother in quite some time." Rodrick replied.
Brynden sighed then, "Very well you are dismissed."
As he watched his friend leave the throne room Brynden could not help but feel torn between remaining seated on the throne and going after his friend to assure him that he did not doubt his loyalty to the throne and to him, but that it was necessary for him to ask, after all they had suffered betrayals before, and Brynden did not wish for his family to suffer anymore. But as he looked around the throne room- which was deserted of a large audience- and saw the way his namesake Bloodraven continued to stare at the space where Rodrick had been moments before, Brynden decided against following his friend deciding that it would only cause more problems.
"What more is there to discuss?" Brynden asked now, desperate to go and spend some time with Rowena and their children- Rhaenys, Maelor, Baelor and their newborn daughter Aelinor- he did not wish to have discuss more dry and rather dull topics with his small council, and witness the arguments that would undoubtedly spring up between his uncle Maekar and Bloodraven.
"My sources from across the narrow sea, report that the Blackfyres have arrived in Pentos. They report that the pretender Aegon is there to martial troops and support for his cause, and another invasion." Bloodraven said.
Brynden looked at his uncle and said "Have your men across the narrow sea deal with the pretender and his uncles. I want confirmation of their deaths via raven and any other method that you can think of Bloodraven."
"And what of the pretender's child? What will you do with the man's daughter Your Grace?" His uncle Maekar asked.
Brynden looked at his uncle then, and saw just how old and tired his uncle truly had become, where there had once been no lines or scars on his face, now there were plenty. His uncle seemed to be more reserved and rigid in his ways than he had been before he had ridden north, and Brynden wondered what had occurred in Winterfell to make his uncle so like he was now. Aloud though he only said "She shall be brought here to King's Landing, and when she and Maelor come of age they shall marry. The Blackfyres cannot then try and stake a claim through any legitimate child of Daemon Blackfyre's then, for Maelor and the girl's wedding will unite the two bloodlines and end this conflict that has lasted for so long."
Brynden saw his uncle nod in approval and felt something like pride surge through him, it was strange really how even now at the age of 25, and as a father to four children he still himself felt like a little boy whenever he spoke with his uncle or his mother. Brynden noticed that Bloodraven himself had not seemed to react to what he had said, and that surprised him, for Bloodraven had often been the strongest supporter of taking stringent actions against the Blackfyres each time they had been brought up in the small council meetings, now that he was silent, Brynden was beginning to have his own suspicions about the man's motives.
However, now was not the time to voice these suspicions he would wait and see whether the man carried out his orders before he questioned him about where his true loyalty lay. For now he was simply happy to know that that issue had been dealt with. So he spoke once more " What else is there to be discussed."
It was Grand Maester Derryck who replied. "There is the matter of Lord Jasper Arryn and his son Jon Your Grace."
Brynden sighed, the issue of whether or not Jon Arryn should be fostered anywhere as according to his father's wishes had been an issue that had refused to leave Brynden's court, and he half suspected it was because of the fact that Rowena was his queen, that half these blithering fools in the Vale and the Crownlands were pressing for the chance to foster the boy, it had come to the stage where both Lord Royce and Lord Rosby had begun arming themselves. Royce claiming that no son of the Vale should be fostered outside of the Vale, and with Rosby claiming that fostering the boy outside the Vale would do more good for him than keeping him fostered within the Vale. "Lord Royce makes a valid point, it is only fitting that the future lord of the Vale should be fostered within the Vale to better understand his lands and people. Lord Rosby, I believe simply speaks for fostering the boy with himself, so he can ingrain himself further with my wife's good books. He does not have the boy's best interests at heart. No Jon Arryn shall be fostered in the Vale, and both men shall withdraw their call to arms at once. Have that sent in a raven to the Eyrie, to Runestone and to Rosby, I do not wish to hear of this issue anymore after today."
"It shall be done Your Grace." Maester Derryck said bowing and leaving the throne room to go ahead and do his duty.
"If there is nothing else," Brynden said rising from the throne. "Then this meeting is over. Uncle Maekar if you could walk with me." Brynden walked down from the throne and his uncle walked beside him as he walked from the room, Ser Oberyn Dayne and Ser Tywin Reyne walked behind them.
The sound of their shoes hitting the ground echoed around the empty halls as they walked from the throne room to the nursery where Brynden wished to see his children. They walked largely in silence for most of the journey, but once the silence became too much for him Brynden whispered to his uncle. "What has you so worried Uncle? You have not been the same since you came back from Winterfell. Is Edwyle Stark an okay man for Myriah to be married to?"
His uncle Maekar swallowed deeply before he replied. "Nothing is wrong in Winterfell, Edwyle loves Myriah deeply that much was clear from my time in Winterfell, and I have made that clear since I have come back from the north. No it is not that that worries me, it is Aelinor who worries me."
Brynden felt his chest tighten at the mention of his mother. "What is wrong with mother? Why has no one told me what is wrong with her?" he all but snarled at his uncle.
His uncle stopped walking then and looked at him, an annoyed expression on his face. "That's the thing Your Grace. I do not know what is wrong with your mother, and as such I could not tell you anything even if you had asked."
Brynden knew that perhaps he should apologise for the tone of his voice when he asked his uncle that question, but the words his uncle had said in response to the question had caused him to get more worried and as such he could not think about apologies now. "What do you mean you do not know what is wrong with mother Uncle? You spend more time with her than anyone else in the Red Keep; you should know what is wrong with her!" Brynden knew that his voice was slowly beginning to rise with the fear of something being wrong with his mother, he couldn't lose her, he just couldn't.
His uncle raised his hands in a gesture of peace and said quietly "I do not mean to frighten or worry you Brynden, but something is wrong with Aelinor and I know not what it is, but I shall endeavour to find out what it is."
Brynden knew that was as good as a promise as he was going to get from his uncle and so he merely nodded. Just as he was about to ask him a question about something he had heard one of the maids say, a page came running from the other side of the keep, his face coloured red from the run he had likely just endured. He sounded out of breath when he said "Your Graces, I come bearing news from Lord Brynden, he says that the body of Rodrick Greyjoy was found in his chamber, with froth coming out of Greyjoy's mouth."
Brynden feels something within him break at that. "You are sure it is Rodrick Greyjoy?" he asks harsher than he intended.
"Yes Your Grace, Lord Brynden saw the body with his own two eyes and identified it as Lord Rodrick." The page replies.
Brynden closes his eyes briefly, before saying "We know the way to Lord Rodrick's rooms you may leave us."
The page bows briefly and then is running off somewhere else. Brynden looks at his uncle once and can see the same look of shock reflected on his uncle's face. They say not a word as they walk toward Rodrick's rooms which were a few doors away from the nursery. Upon entering Brynden has to do a double take, for there lying on the bed is his friend, his best friend, Rodrick Greyjoy lies on his bed with his eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling, and there is froth coming from his mouth still. Grand Maester Derryck must have been summoned for Brynden can see the old maester flitting from one spot of the room to the other trying to gauge gods alone knows what.
"Who found him?" Asks Uncle Maekar.
"I did Your Grace." Says a boy with the livery of House Harlaw on his doublet- Rodrick's squire Brynden remembers though the boy's name escapes him- "I came to see what Lord Rodrick wished to have for dinner, and when I came to the room the door was open and Lord Rodrick was laying there as he is now."
Brynden still finds that he is unable to speak and so his uncle Maekar says "Did you see anyone leaving the room as you approached it? Anyone at all?"
The page shakes his head.
"We have searched the entire castle Maekar, and no one has been sighted looking suspicious." Bloodraven says in that calm and collected tone of his.
"Someone must have poisoned him then, through the food." Uncle Maekar says.
"Maester Derryck is checking the food and the body now, though we won't know for certain how or what or who did this for some time." Bloodraven replies.
Brynden merely continues to stare at the body, his friend's body. Before he knows what he's doing he is kneeling down beside the bed, and is simply staring at his friend, his best friend. He knows not how long he stays there kneeling, but it must be a long time, for when he feels his uncle's hand on his shoulder, everyone bar himself, his uncle and Bloodraven have left the room. Brynden turns round to look at the two men, two men whom he respects and admires greatly and he merely says in a chocked voice "Word must be sent to Pyke, Quellon Greyjoy will wish to know of his brother's death."
Both men nod their agreement, and then Brynden says "Find out who did this, find out who killed Rodrick, and find them before I do."
"They will be found Your Grace." Bloodraven replies before he leaves the room to go and do his duty.
Once he has gone, Brynden looks at his uncle Maekar and he says softly "If Quellon Greyjoy was not gathering his fleet for war, he surely will declare war now. With Rodrick dead."
His uncle Maekar merely nods ,and Brynden sighs once more "Let us hope that I am proven wrong, and that we can get justice for Rodrick before the kingdoms burn once more."
As it turns out Brynden is proven correct for a moon after a raven was sent to Pyke informing them of Rodrick's death, a raven arrives for Brynden written in the scrawling hand of Quellon Greyjoy and its contents are grim and foreboding. :
Dragonspawn,
You have killed a kraken and for that you must pay, you and your Greenlanders shall pay. Only death can pay for death. Prepare for death Greenlander, lots of it.
And sure enough a week later a raven arrives from Casterly Rock informing them of the burning of Banefort, and the landing of a Ironborn army that is marching inward. Lord Garon writes that he has called the banners and is marching to meet this host of Ironborn, and that he has asked Lord Tully for assistance. At the small council meeting it is decided that the rest of the kingdoms must be called to arms, and so the ravens go out calling the Lords Paramount and their bannermen to arms.
It is just as Brynden is about to march for the Westerlands- a moon after receiving the initial raven, two weeks after hearing of the burning of Faircastle, Kayce and the attack on the Shield Islands- that a raven arrives from Sylvar Bar Emmon informing them of the landing of mercenaries flying the black dragon banner of House Blackfyre, and of the battle that had followed on the shoreline, and a call for help. After much debate, it is decided that Brynden will march with the army of the crownlands to the south and meet up with the Stormlords host gathered by Lord Robar Baratheon, and then head off to fight the Blackfyres and their mercenaries.
Brynden says goodbye to his wife and children, and promises that he will do all he can to return. He sees Bloodraven saying a similar goodbye to Shiera Seastar- the seductress who had only loved the man Brynden had been named for- and as he waves goodbye to his family he sees Uncle Maekar and his mother holding hands and he hopes to the gods that they can figure out whatever it is that is going on between them.
They are camped somewhere within the Kingswood, when a rider reaches them, with a letter from King's Landing, writ in his wife's elegant hand. It comes bearing dark tidings from the Vale, because of the winter and the poor conditions, the army of the Vale has been delayed marching down from the Bloody Gate, and that their fleet has been iced in at Gulltown. Brynden shares this news with his war council and the atmosphere becomes dark almost at once, without the help of the Arryns and the armies of the Vale, will they be able to beat the pretender this time around?
It is as they arrive at Bronzegate the seat of House Buckler that they learn from the old and ailing Lord Emmon Buckler that Jaehaerys Blackfyre had sailed from Pentos and down the bay of crabs and had attacked and sacked Maidenpool with some 15, 000 men. Lord Mooton had been slain in the sack, his wife and children were all dead. His brother fled. The atmosphere within the castle and amongst the men darkens at this news. There is more news from the west. It seems that Quellon Greyjoy had split his host in half, fifty of the ships had sailed from Banefort and had attacked and taken the Shield Islands, from there twenty ships had sailed down the Sunset Sea and had attacked and sacked the holdings of Bandallion, Blackcrown and the Three Towers. The remaining thirty ships had docked in at the Mander and had fought a bloody battle with a host of Reachmen led by Lord Helmar Tarly, according to the letter, both sides had suffered significant losses, with Tarly being slain, and someone by the name of Ulf Pyke leading the charge that broke Brightwater Keep. The part of the Ironborn fleet that had remained in the west, had docked at Banefort and had allowed for some 6,000 Ironborn to descend on the Westerlands, raping, burning and pillaging as they went, but before Garon Lannister could give chase and do battle with them they fled back onto their ships and sailed for lands unknown.
Such tidings left the mood amongst the camp very low, as most men did not seem to know how to beat the foes that seemed to be ganging up on them, slowly and steadily. To Brynden it became clear, the Ironborn and the Blackfyres had likely been working on this invasion for a long time, and had most likely only been waiting for the opportune moment to strike. That thought, put a darker one in Brynden's head, what if it had been Quellon who had had one of his men poison Rodrick's food and drink.
Such thoughts were pushed from his mind though when they finally arrived at the point where the Wendwater entered Blackwater Bay. There they found a host of some 20,000 men camped. From what the scouts had reported, it appeared that Jaehaerys Blackfyre had taken 2,000 members from the Golden Company. The rest were all camped just in front of them, alongside 12,000 men from three different sellsword companies from Essos. Brynden's own army comprised of 5,000 men from the Crownlands and some 7,000 men from the Stormlands, he only prayed that it would be enough.
At the first war council held that evening, it seemed that the lords gathered thought the same as he had.
"Sellswords are a fickle lot, they may break easily against our numbers and understanding of the land." Andros Celtigar said
"They have 20,000 men, battle hardened ate. But they are sellswords, and will not have fought in the last war, they should perish easily."Said Lord Steffon Massey - a confident and brash young man- .
"Aye, that is what we thought of the Pretender the last time we fought one of these wretched Blackfyres, and the war lasted nigh on a year. We cannot afford to underestimate them again." Lord Robar Baratheon replied, cautious as old age had made him.
"What would you have us do Your Grace?" Lord Selmy asked.
Brynden sighed and was silent for a moment as he thought through everything their scouts had told them of the Pretender's army. "He has men on Massey's Hook, and will likely have ships waiting for a getaway in the bay. Burn the ships and you leave him stranded here. The question is whether or not he has reinforcements in Stonedance and Sharp Point. First burn the ships and then we shall see whether the man is willing to give open battle."
The men hastened to obey and that night and the nights that followed, Brynden stood from his tent and watched as the Blackwater came to light in sight of the flames. There were skirmishes as some of the pretender's men fought his own, in the battle to get to the ships, but eventually when the next council was called Steffon Massey reported that out of the 120 ships that the Pretender had had, fifty had been burnt over the course of two weeks, for the loss of some 500 men. Brynden felt the loss keenly, but deeply hoped that the men's sacrifice could pay off. The next day, was the first day of proper fighting.
Dawn had just snuck upon the darkness, when a war horn was sounded. Brynden had awoken before the sun had risen and had been sat dressed in his armour waiting for the sun to rise, when the horn had been blown, the enemy was springing a surprise on them. And soon 3,000 sellswords were charging down the hill on Massey's Hook toward them, brandishing swords, axes and weapons of all kinds, Brynden saw his men run hastily to put on their own armour and draw their own weapons when the first wave of fights broke out.
Brynden ran out of his tent, Blackfyre held high and began hacking and slashing at the first soldiers from the enemy who came at him. He lopped of a head here, cut a man in half there, all around him was the sound of steel on steel, the sounds of men dying and crying. But Brynden ignored all of that and merely focussed on keeping Blackfyre raised high and using it to cut down as many men as he possibly could. The fighting for that day lasted from the early hours until well after the sun had set, it was the hour of the wolf when the last sellsword was slain.
Brynden made it back to his tent, battered and bruised, but he tried not to complain too much as the maester tended to his wounds, this was just the first day of battle, there were many more to come. The day's count of the losses for their side numbered some 2,000 men. 2000 men dead in one day, it was a toll that Brynden was not willing to truly let his mind dwell on, it only made him more determined to end this fight as quickly as possible and then head off to deal with the Ironborn.
The fighting continues not for just one more day, but for several more months. Each time one man falls amongst the Blackfyre army, another five come to take his place. Brynden knows not where these men come from, how they manage to sneak past the patrols and scouts that he has sent out continuously since the battle began, but they come and he fights them with all he has, and he kills them, and some of them wound him, but they still die in the end.
Reports from other parts of Westeros seem more encouraging, Edwyle Stark managed to kill Jaehaerys Blackfyre and his army of northmen dealt with the army of sellswords that the man had taken north from Maidenpool with him. Stark had then set Maidenpool back to rights, helping Edgar Mooton, the brother of the former Lord of Maidenpool back into the city and as such was helping the man rebuild. The fighting between the Westerlands and the Ironborn had spilled onto Pyke, with their fleet still intact at Lannisport, Garon Lannister and Lord Stevron Tully had boarded the ships and had fought and defeated the Ironborn host left at Pyke, who were led by Horras Greyjoy- Quellon's oldest son- Pyke was under Lannister control now.
Other news regarding the Ironborn was less positive, they held the Shield Islands, they had sacked and burnt their way through Bandallion, Blackcrown and the Three Towers, and some of their fleet had smashed Brightwater Keep to dust, Garth Tyrell was dead, slain at the Battle of the Mander. Dorne seemed to be the next place where the Ironborn were to be heading, and still no one knew where Quellon Greyjoy was.
It was disheartening and frustrating, yet Brynden knew that the only way to end this was to fight the man who would claim the throne, Aegon Blackfyre, son of Maegon. In the fifth month of the 236th Year after Aegon's Landing, after six months of fighting, Brynden Targaryen challenged the Blackfyre pretender to single combat, a fight to the death. The fighting had cost too many lives as far as Brynden was concerned, his uncle Bloodraven had been slain by three arrows to the chest a week before, Ser Devan Rowan had been slain a moon ago. Ser Mikkel Gargalen had been slain that first night in the frenzy and the chaos that many were now calling the battle of the Dawn. Jasper Baratheon lay bleeding most certainly to his death, now, the man had survived the last war, but this time he was older and there was more chance for death, enough was enough, Brynden had decided. The man wanted to be king? Let him fight to earn it.
"The man is young and rash and foolish. Let him make the first move Your Grace, and victory shall be yours." Ser Oberyn's words were echoing in Brynden's head as he strode forward through the crowd that had gathered, he was dressed in black armour with the three headed red dragon of his house on his chest plate. Aegon Blackfyre strode forward in silver armour with the black three headed dragon on his chest plate. Both men nodded to one another before donning their respective helms.
They circled one another, neither man willing to make the first move. This went on for what seemed like days, but perhaps was only a few seconds before true to Ser Oberyn's estimation, Aegon Blackfyre lunged forward at Brynden. Brynden moved backwards in time so that the boy's swing fell short of him, causing the boy to go off balance. Something Brynden took full advantage of, moving to the right he cut at the boy's right hand side and managed to make a dent in the boy's armour, drawing first blood.
That angered the boy, he began a rapid attack of swinging, hacking and slashing at Brynden. Some of his strokes connected with him, make cuts and dents in his armour, some of which drew blood. Others sailed harmlessly passed Brynden, and others which Brynden blocked with his sword. Though he may not be as quick as the boy, he was more skilled and had more practice and training and so allowed the boy to tire himself out.
Which he did, Brynden responded with a very severe attack of his own, swinging his sword left, right and centre. Some of the blows landed where he wished them to, denting the boy's armour and even opening up wounds in some places. Some of the blows the boy managed to block and even turn into counter attacks, though not for very long.
One swing to the boy's helm has him knocked over and stumbling blindly backwards. Another swing to the boy's chest has him on the ground, on his knees begging for mercy. One final swing and the boy's head is off, the Blackfyre pretender is dead.
Three years since the fifth Blackfyre was crushed and the Ironborn brought to heal, Brynden Targaryen sits in his and his wife Rowena's chambers, his wife's head resting on his shoulder, his hands playing with her hair. Word had just come from the Vale of Jasper Arryn's death. Jasper Arryn and the forces of the Vale had not been able to come and fight at the Battle of Massey's Hook, nor had they been able to fight in the Riverlands, due to the high level of snow that had blocked their army's advance, that was something that Brynden knew had deeply embarrassed and hurt his goodfather's pride. His goodfather had fallen ill some moons ago from a winter fever, and had just succumbed to it, his body had according to the letter written in Brynden's goodbrother's hand had faded away like wasted parchment.
"We can't even leave for the funeral. Not with your uncle ailing as well." Brynden heard Rowena say against his neck.
Brynden sighed, it was true. His uncle Maekar had been ailing with some sort of illness for the past few moons as well. It seemed winter had come firmly now and was refusing to leave, and was taking all those who had suffered through so much before with it as it was finally forced to leave, bit by bit. His uncle Maekar had faded away to pretty much a husk of his former self, speech was more and more difficult for him, and he constantly coughed up blood and sick, Brynden knew that his uncle did not have long to live, and yet he could not deny his wife the chance to say goodbye to her father, not when he had never truly had the chance to say goodbye to his.
This is why he says into her hair "You could go you know my love. I am needed here, but there is no reason why you cannot go. You could take Rhaenys and Maelor with you, it is not too late in your pregnancy to travel, and you could go. Go and say goodbye to your father and meet with your brother and sisters."
Rowena tilts her head up to look at him and in a choked voice replies "DO you think I could go? It would not be too dangerous would it? With winter still here? You would be okay here without me?"
He smiles wanly at her then and says "Yes my love, it would be fine. Besides I could send you on the royal fleet, no one would dare attack you then. Greyjoy is dead, his two oldest sons dead, his youngest is a ward with Garon Lannister, and the Blackfyres have been beaten back into Slaver's Bay. No there will be no threat to you or the children. I shall speak with the council about it tomorrow." He kisses the top of her head then and they fall back into a comfortable silence.
As they remain in silence, both thinking over their own thoughts, Brynden feels his thoughts begin to turn to the events that occurred four years ago at the end of the last Blackfyre rebellion. Even with the pretender dead, some of the boy's commanders had kept the fighting going, fighting in the name of the boy's uncle Lucereon. Eventually though these commanders had been betrayed by their own men and had been killed or handed over bound in chains to Brynden and his own commanders. Those commanders of the Blackfyre's forces that had not already been killed were put to the sword, the soldiers were given two choices to take the black or death, most chose death. With that sorted Brynden had turned his attention to the west, and had found that Pyke had been taken, Quellon Greyjoy had sailed with his cousin Domeric Orkmont on the Iron Jewels, raiding and pillaging the Reach and the coast of Dorne, tired and exhausted though he was, Brynden had sailed from Storm's End with some 400 men and had met Quellon Greyjoy on the Sea of Dorne, where confronted not only by the fleet of the Stormlords, but also with the remains of the Redwyne Fleet, Greyjoy had surrendered and had been pardoned but his youngest son Balon became a ward of Garon Lannister and should he rise up again in rebellion, that would mean his son's instant death.
With that issue sorted there had been the problem of the Kingsguard to sort out, thwo of the white knights had died fighting at Massey's Hook, and their replacements were needed. But as with the end of the last rebellion, Brynden had not been able to truly think of whom could replace two knights who had more than earnt their white cloak. Ser Mikkel Gargalen a fierce fighter and honourable, had died and was replaced by Ser Stevron Corbray, Ser Devan Rowan was replaced by Edrick Crakehall's youngest son Lucion Crakehall- who was but seventeen years old but had fought valiantly in the taking of Pyke. Ser Oberyn Dayne, the lord commander of Brynden's Kingsguard had placed the white cloaks on the two men at an event in the Great Sept of Baelor in the eight month of the 236th year after Aegon's Landing, allowing them join amongst Ser Oberyn, their other fellow sworn brothers: Ser Tywin Reyne, Ser Devan Manderly, Ser Gwayne Gaunt and Ser Lomas Estermont.
Ser Loras Arryn had come up in discussion once again as a potential member of the Kingsguard, but Brynden remembering the way in which Rowena had begged him not to let the man anywhere near her or King's Landing had out right refused to entertain the thought. He had not met this Loras Arryn, but from what he had gathered from Desmond Royce his master of whispers, Loras Arryn seemed to have a very slimy reputation within the Vale, not just for his antics with some of Rowena's ladies in waiting and his 'love' for Rowena, but because of his supposed fierce temper and the fact that Jasper Arryn had seen him as a son.
It had been four moons since Rowena had departed for the Eyrie, sailing from King's Landing with an escort of some twenty war ships, as well as Ser Gwayne Gaunt and Ser Lomas Estermont of the Kingsguard. The wintry weather had meant that the journey which would normally have taken a moon at most by sea, had taken three. Rowena had written to him when she and the children had arrived at Gulltown, stating that she and the children were well and that she would be moving straight onto the Eyrie as soon as transport was made available.
Since that raven there had been no more news from either Rowena or her brother Jon, though Brynden was not too concerned about it, for it was likely that with winter still in full swing, the raven had either been blown of course or was just late in getting to King's Landing. In any case, Brynden had enough to keep him occupied, what with the children- Rhaenys, Maelor, Baelor and Aelinor- all having gone with their mother to the Vale, he had immersed himself in restoring the kingdom to its former glory,. That had meant spending long hours with the small council pouring over every single detail and the cost of rebuilding the ports at Lannisport, strengthening the defences at the Shield Islands, and developing more trade with Bravos, Myr and Lys.
With his uncle Maekar still incredibly ill, Brynden had begun to rely quite heavily on his cousin Aegon, and had even toyed with the idea of naming his cousin hand, though of course his uncle still held the position. Thinking of his uncle, his thoughts turned to a conversation that he had had with him a week or so ago. His uncle could barely speak, and could only do so after having had a heavy dosage of milk of the poppy, and even then his words were slurred and usually incoherent, but this one conversation was stuck deep into Brynden's mind, and it would not leave his mind no matter how much he tried to force it to go.
"Brynden, how are Rowena and the children?" his uncle had asked, his voice sounding so weak and faint, that Brynden had had to strain to hear what he was asking.
"They are doing well uncle," Brynden replied. "Rowena is in the early stages of her pregnancy, but she glows, like she has with all of our babes. And Rhaenys and Maelor are doing very well, they have charmed half the court, the other half is completely charmed by Baelor and little Aelinor."
A smile had broken out on his uncle's face then. "Good, that is good. Securing the dynasty and making sure that they are loved, that they know that they are loved."
Brynden hadn't known what to make of that, but had not had the chance to respond when his uncle had spoken once more "You know that your mother and I have always loved you yes? I have loved you like you were my own son, my own flesh and blood."
"Yes uncle, I have, I do." Brynden had replied.
"Good," his uncle had whispered. "I am sorry if I sometimes appeared overbearing, I simply wished for you to become the man I knew you could become."
Brynden had fidgeted uncomfortably then, knowing that his uncle spoke of the war with Maegon Blackfyre and nothing more. He was about to apologise then for the words he had spoken on that long ago day, but his uncle had spoken once more.
"Once I die, you must secure the family. Look after your mother, and tell her that all will be well, our secret shall be with us still, till the end of time."
"Secret?" Brynden had said then, then he had turned and looked around the room and seeing it was just the two of them in the room, he whispered the question once more. "Secret uncle? What secret?"
His uncle had laughed then and had replied. "Ah but that would not be a secret if I told you, now would it? But then again I suppose you deserve to know about myself and your mother, and our history."
Brynden's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to come in, Brynden found himself looking at young Ser Lucion Crakehall, the young man seemed very nervous as he spoke. "Your Grace, Grand Maester Derryck sent me to find you, its about his grace Prince Maekar. He's died."
