Lord Berros Yronwood
Winter was over, or so the maesters said, it had never truly reached Dorne, not properly at least, true it had become colder but the snow and ice that was said to have affected the northern kingdoms had not dared make its way past the Prince's Pass. As such trade between the Dornish houses and the Free Cities continued to flourish and Berros Yronwood knew that his house's coffers were nearly as full as they had been before the Blackfyre wars had ever truly begun. That was something that he was deeply proud of, it was something that the Martells could not take away from him and his family, not like they had taken everything else away from him. For Princess Loreza Martell, who was new to her reign as the ruling Princess of Dorne was many things but when it came to money she was not as smart as some would have you think. There were ways in which one could hide the revenue coming in from customs that came straight to you and not through port, and as such Berros had put those to good use.
The money he was putting to good use, building up an alliance with other Dornish houses who had become disillusioned with House Martell and their connections with the dragonlords who ruled them from King's Landing. Kingsgrave, Blackmont, Hellholt, Skyreach and High Hermitage had already agreed to an alliance should a chance present itself for a potential revolt and removal of the Martells from power. The key to bringing most of Dorne to their side lay with the Fowlers of Skyreach, that Lord Fowler had felt scorned that his son had not been wed to Loreza Martell had served to push him straight in Berros' arms. The Martells had become complacent since joining the rest of Westeros, believing themselves invincible with the dragonlords backing, they had become arrogant and had forgotten what it was to be truly Dornish.
Loreza Martell was a very passionate woman, fiery as well, Berros had tumbled with her many a time in their youth but now, now she had come and shown just how much a viper she truly was. She had demanded his son, Edgar as a hostage, she said that his son was a ward, but he knew threat when he saw one. There was talk from the north that the King on the Iron Throne meant to bring war to the kingdoms once more, and that the Golden Company was about to invade as well, and as such Berros knew that the whore from Sunspear would not hesitate to kill Edgar should the Blackfyres invade and Berros called his banners. And yet the whore was as complacent as her father had been, she might be wed to his cousin, but she knew not what Corben truly was like, a viper, that was what he was, and though Berros did not like nor trust his cousin, he knew how to use him.
All was not well between husband and wife, it would seem, and so Berros had used that knowledge to his advantage, there were various ways in which one could free a hostage from the Water Gardens. House Martell had wanted its bannermen to believe that the place was neigh impenetrable and yet their habit of having the sons and daughters of these very same bannermen plays in the water gardens would prove to be their downfall. There were various servants who had been there since the time of Berros' grandfather when Yronwood and Martell had been close allies, and as such the secrets of the Gardens were well known in Yronwood. Certain guards had been paid off, or had always been on Yronwood coin and as such they had instructions that the minute activity was heard from Sunspear, Berros' son was to be escorted away to Yronwood under the cover of night and chaos. Loreza Martell might be smart but she would not take his son from him, House Martell had already taken much from him.
His sister had died cold and alone, broken from home in a foreign place because of House Martell. She had given birth to a royal bastard, Gyles his name was, Berros had never met the lad but he had written to him on many occasions and from the letters had garnered that the lad was quite a bit like Elia had been. Free spirited and passionate, with a skill for arms, and his brother Daemon's right hand. That was good, Yronwood and Stark had been allies for some time and though Daeron Stark seemed to have lost the plot, his grandsons seemed perfectly capable of taking over for him. Gyles Snow, that was what his nephew was called, Stark his name truly should be, for if what his sources told him Gyles did more for the north than anyone but his brother truly acknowledged, the enforcer to his brothers' words and threats. Both of them would be a fierce duo when their time came, Berros simply hoped that Daeron Stark would not isolate them as he had done Berros' cousin Aegor, Elia had written to him of their cousin calling him frustrated and angry, despondent with the madman aunt Arianne's husband had become, that Elia had given their cousin some form of happiness was good, and Berros prayed that it had been enough.
His own family was united for once, his grandfather had had many children from three wives, and they had all competed for favour with him, Lord Donton Yronwood had been a fierce man, and had treated his family well and justly during his long tenure as Lord of the Bloodroyal, his death had crushed Berros' father, Ormund who had not lived long after his father. Berros had come to power as head of House Yronwood some ten years ago now, and as such he had done all he could to provide for the various relations of his that needed seeing to, those that proved worthy he rewarded and promised them important positions in his court once Dorne was free, those who proved less worth wile were sent on missions they never came back from. There was only a set amount of mouths he could feed after all.
As he called for the lords who he would speak with to be shown into his solar, he found it funny how all those in Dorne and north of the marches thought House Yronwood had been cowed, they never would learn these Westerosi, Dorne could never been cowed. As the lords were seated, Berros took a moment to assess each on of them for strengths and weaknesses. Lord Perros Blackmont a fierce warrior smart as well he would die before he broke, Lord Dickon Manwoody Lord of Kingsgrave not a warrior like his brother but a very cunning man who had spies everywhere, he would serve his own means first, Ser Andros Dayne Knight of High Hermitage, a bitter man skilled with the sword who wanted what his cousins had Starfall and Dawn and then there was Lady Parisa Uller, the mad Uller who was cunning and smart and devious all in one, an interesting ally to have. Berros cleared his throat then and spoke. "I thank you my lords and lady for coming here today to speak of a most important matter. As we all know there are interesting events afoot, the King on the Iron Throne plots an invasion of the north, whilst our Princess fails to produce another child to go along with Prince Doran. The time is ripe now for a rebellion."
Lord Blackmont spoke bluntly. "Aye a rebellion, and who else would join us my lord? Fowler continues to hover on the edges, the Daynes of Starfall will remain steadfast to Sunspear and the rest hover an wait to see what we shall do. I say we wait."
"My lord of Blackmont has lost his stomach for a fight in his dotage." Ser Andros said smiling menacingly. "The Daynes of Starfall will do nothing, not if I call their men to my banner. Their support of Sunspear will be enough to drive them away from Dorne. That is one of Martell's allies gone for you my lords."
Blackmont bristled then and snapped. "And how do you propose to get the men sworn to Starfall to rally to your banner Andros? You come from the lesser branch of the house and do not wield Dawn. They will not follow you, no more than they would follow anyone not called Lord Dagon."
Andros merely smiled and said. "There are ways one can get men to follow them without being of the main line my lord. You yourself proved that long ago."
Before the conversation could be derailed further, Berros spoke. "My lady of Uller, how do preparations go on your end, has there been word from Ghost Hill?"
Lady Parisa Uller smiled a toothless smile and then lisped. "Aye my lord there has been. Lord Toland has remembered our old alliance and has decided that he would like nothing more than to make the dragon suns dance to our tune once more. So Toland will join our force at the Sandy range along with Sandstone."
"Qorgyle has finally consented then?" Berros asked.
"Aye my lord, his men muster in the shade of the scorpion and Sunspear is none the wiser." Lady Uller replied.
"That is good news indeed. Now then, the marcher lords will most likely be keeping an eye on the Prince's Pass. Perros, Dickon I want you to send some scouts and riders out to harass them and keep them occupied. If what my men in the east tell me soon enough there will most definitely be another war in the north and this time Dorne will be on the beneficial end of it all." Berros said.
"What of The Tor my lord? Desmerick Jordayne holds the key to Martell strength and as such has not answered our ravens nor has he responded to polite requests from Loreza Martell. We all know the Jordaynes are half mad as well as the Ullers, no offense meant my lady. What is there to say he will not declare himself king as well?" Lord Manwoody asked.
Berros was silent for a moment and then said. "The Jordaynes will do nothing. I was fostered with Desmerick; he wants nothing but to be left alone. He might hold a lot of the Martell strength now, but he will do nothing that will jeopardize his own plans and motives. Sunspear shall not have their resources to use during this war."
"That still leaves Godsgrace and Salt Shore and the Orphans of the Greenblood have been known to love Loreza Martell and your own cousin my lord. Whilst I accept we shall not get all of the lords to our cause, I do wish to know what you intend to do with Prince Corben once this war is done." Lord Perros asked.
Berros took a sip of wine, and then said. "Corben has always been a viper, he always was devious and cunning when we were children. Yet he does not have the brains to put his gifts to proper use. That he is sleeping with Lady Wyl is clear proof of that, the Martells are a divided family that has become apparent. My cousin will be dealt with in good time, you need not fear that. As will his children."
Blackmont merely looked angry at his answer. "I asked how and what, not for some blather about your musings on them my lord."
Berros sighed, Blackmonts had always been very prickly when it came to direct answers with regards to family. "Very well if you must know, Corben and his wife shall be slain, as will his son Doran. Manfrey Martell shall be sent to Ghaston Grey. My nephew Gyles shall aid us in this conflict."
At that there was some murmuring. "Is the lad sane my lord?" Lady Uller asked.
Berros snorted and said. "Aye my lady that much I know and he is a good warrior, we shall benefit from having him here with us. This time we shall not fail, that much I promise you."
High Steward Lord Edwyle Stark
Winter a dreary month, a foreboding month or so the words of the royal family said. Winter is coming, was the words of Winterfell and so it seemed winter had come, for the royal family as it had come for them for many years now. Princesses Samaira and Jorelle, wife and daughter of Prince Daemon, heir to the winter throne were dead. Slain by an assassin. The man had come from the south, sent by King Aegon Targaryen the king in the south as an attempt to provoke the north to war once more and thus give the southern dragon an excuse to call his banners and fight the north once more. The Princesses had had their throats slit, in the godswood; only a passerby had heard their screams and had gone to get the Winter's Guard. Danger lurked in the shadows now, and the brief reconciliation that the King and his grandson had had was on tenterhooks, with the prince blaming both the Targaryens and his grandfather for his wife and daughter's deaths, though there had been no confrontation between the two of them, there had been between the Prince and the boy, Lucerys Blackfyre.
Edwyle had never liked Lucerys Blackfyre or for that matter most of the Blackfyres, their heads were filled with air most of the time, and they lacked basic common sense. Edwyle had never understood why his cousin and king had always insisted on dragging the north into southern affairs, but that was not for him to question. Still Lucerys Blackfyre was a little worm of a man, whose death would be relief to all. Edwyle had been there when Lucerys Blackfyre had cornered Prince Daemon in the training yard and had said that the deaths of his wife and child were much better than what he deserved, being the idiot that he was. Edwyle frankly was surprised that Prince Daemon had not killed Lucerys Blackfyre there and then, instead that Blackfyre had gotten away with badly broken ribs and a damaged eye was frankly quite lucky for him. Edwyle suspected it had something to do with the fact that Prince Daemon's bastard brother Gyles had pulled his brother off of the dragon boy before too much damage could be done.
Daeron Stark had actually acted as a king and had sent Lucerys Blackfyre to Last Hearth and spoken with his grandson, what words were said Edwyle knew not but he knew that the two men were closer now than they had ever been before. Both worked tirelessly to numb the fall out from the actions of the assassin, and though Blackfyre returned he was not as well looked on by Daeron as he had been, and Daemon came into his own. The meetings were held and the options were discussed. A retaliatory war would not go down too well unless the cause was definitely going to be successful, and so war was declared null, Edwyle made sure the prince still go his revenge though, allowing the lad the chance to flay all the information he could get out of the man before he died. From that they had discovered some rather useful things.
The king on the iron throne had his spies in Winterfell and the north once more, who reported on everything that happened in the northern court that was how Aegon Targaryen had learnt about the war machines and the divisions within the royal family. The spies were all gone now, dead or fled, some were still hanging by their skins to the godswood in the Wolfswood right now, something Edwyle approved of. Reports had been found in some of the servants quarters detailing things that had been going on for years, and notes on where the weak spots of the north's defences were, were accurately described, there was a mole somewhere deep within court and as such they had not been able to find them before the defences had been ordered. White Harbour was heavily defended as was the Stony Shore the Iron Fleet was ready and rearing to go, and Moat Cailin and the Neck remained impenetrable.
All of this work had meant Edwyle had returned to Moat Cailin for the first time in about five years, to see his family properly. Relations with his wife were still a wee bit awkward but then again Edwyle had never been good with women, he had done his duty though and had two sons to show for it. Rickard who was a man grown now, not wed yet but soon enough he would be, stern and solemn much like Edwyle himself. Brandon fifteen and a good swordsman if a bit light in the head when it came to common sense. Thankfully the boy was no longer friends with Lucerys Blackfyre, after finally seeing him for what he was, his son had decided to cut ties with him. Edwyle was proud of his boys, and he knew they would carry on the hard work he and his own brothers and father had put in for all those years once his time came, which it soon would. Another war and then perhaps he could retire to the north and make his peace with the gods.
His sister Melissa was ailing; winter had been hard for her and her husband. Jon Royce had died from a fever during the early months of winter, and as such his son Artos had taken the reigns. The lad was a good man, smart and cunning with a skill for strategy, it was his brother, Edwyle's second nephew, Domeric who was the muscle in that family, with his ability to swing a sword and put his brother's strategies in place. The other children were either dead, or were dying now the southern invasion of the north had begun. Bringing with it the memories that Edwyle had done his best to try and forget they kept coming back to him, over and over again, his brother dying before his eyes, the starvation and the desperation.
Still he kept ordering more and more men to go and man the walls and he would watch them fall to southern arrows and something within him would rage and demand to be released. The southerners were struggling though, Lord Donnor Reed and his cranongmen were harassing them every step of the way. Lord Mallister and his men were bogged down in heavy armour and with heavy horse, they would soon flounder. Rickard had control of the main fighting, Elaena looked for men from the skies and Edwyle, Edwyle fought with his teeth and his claws, using the leader of the pack to confront those men that escaped his men's notice.
Snarling, he jumped for the two legged beast, biting and tearing. The beast screamed and tried to shoot at him, but he jumped out of the way and snarled once more. Cutting into human flesh on and on it went, biting, jumping, tearing, ducking, the screams filled his ears, the blood filled his nose and on and on it went. One man tried to attack from behind but the bird flew down and pecked its eyes out and the beast did not try anything again. He could smell fear and blood on the two legged humans and on he went, tearing and biting, he enjoyed this, these two legged beasts were foes the voice told him they needed to die.
Jump, snarl, bite and tear the hunt the fight, it was all sending his blood pumping, the adrenaline was going. On and on he bit he tore, he cut and he snarled. He was the king and this was his territory. Beside him his pack did the same, biting and snarling and growling they had been woken from their slumber and it was not a good thing to do not now, not during winter. They were kings of winter and these two legged animals needed to learn to fear them. He jumped and bit once more and the process continued.
"Brother," a voice said. "Don't lose yourself brother. You must defend the castle as you did as a boy brother." The voice disappeared. Edwyle howled after it and chased it but the crow came in the way and sent him back to biting, hacking and snarling at the men who were trying to attack his home, they died by his command and his growl and his mouth and they died screaming just like his brother had.
Edwyle came to sweating, breathing heavily. The sounds of battle were faint now, but they could still be heard. His wife was sat in the corner sewing; she looked up when she heard him move. "Most of them are dead my lord. Rickard led the defence very well. They are dealing with the stragglers."
"Where is Elaena?"Edwyle asked his voice parched.
"With Rickard. She is guiding his men to the ones who got away my lord." His wife replied.
Edwyle nodded and then stood up. He walked out onto the battlements, whistled and the sent the pack of direwolves into the neck. He knew where Mallister would take his men and it would be his death trap.
