The raven had flown for just under three days, its wings ached as it finally reached its destination. The route to King's Landing was ingrained in its mind. It had flown hard, taking few breaks. It was one of just two that the King's retinue had that was capable of flying so quickly; reserved for urgent news. This news was most urgent indeed, and it was imperative that this news reached the capital.
Fortunately, the raven arrived at the most opportune of times as the Grand Maester was at the raven's destination, checking in the other birds that belonged to the King. The raven squawked indignantly at the old man; wanting to rid itself of the burden that was attached to its leg and sleep; tired after its long journey.
The old man belied his true health by walking quickly over to the spritely bird. He saw the scroll and took it from the raven, which soon flew off to a free perch. The man peered at the envelope, which clearly stated that the missive was for the Lord Regent. The Grand Maester broke the seal. His eyes rapidly took in the contents. He cursed, turned, and ran down the stairs of the tower.
The Lord Regent, Tyrion Lannister was sat in his office, regretfully listening to the rant of his sweet sister Cersei, who had somehow learnt of the fact that a delegation from Sunspear were making their way to King's Landing. She had been going on for at least five minutes at this point, and he had not been able to get a word in edgeways. As she raved away, he had continued to prepare a missive for the cooks of the Keep, informing them of the food they were to serve once the Prince of Dorne and his associates arrived at the capital.
"You are not the King you beast! How dare you make such decisions without informing Joffrey! Without consultation! You have not right, no authority! You are nothing but an abomination, you cannot negotiate with that whore's family!"
He had heard enough.
"Rhaegar chose that whore over you, sweet sister. Need I remined you?" Tyrion retorted. Cersei reared back in shock.
"How dare you! You are speaking to the Queen!"
"I am speaking to my sister. And I am telling you that Joffrey made me Regent while he is away, and it is in the best interests of the Seven Kingdoms to strike a deal with Dorne. However much jealousy you may have, however much you may hate them. They are the only realistic option we have to ensure the food supply to the capital. Would you rather starve or would you rather we talk to Dorne?"
Just as she was about to respond to Tyrion, there was a knock on the door. Tyrion, with a breath of relief, called the knocker to enter his office.
The Grand Maester entered the office. Tyrion was not overly fond of the man, who he was virtually certain was in the pocket of his father. As much as he would love to get rid of the corrupt official, he was also sure that Joffrey knew of the double agent, and he was trying his best not to disrupt Joffrey's plans as much as he could. He knew that Joffrey could handle himself.
"Forgive me, My Lord, Your Grace," the old man began gingerly, "but there is urgent news from His Grace's camp.
Tyrion extended his hand to take the offered scroll from Pycelle, but before the idiot could hand the scroll over, Cersei snatched the parchment from the hand of the Grand Maester. She unfurled the scroll hastily, seemingly fearful that someone would take the rip it out of her hands, even though neither of the two men were in any position to do so.
The scroll unfurled; her eyes quickly scanned the document. The Queen Dowager of the Seven Kingdoms went deathly pale, her eyes watered, and she screamed. The offending parchment dropped to the floor, and she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Pycelle rushed to the Queen's aid. Tyrion meanwhile bent down and swept up the parchment that had evoked such a reaction in his sister. His stomach clenched in terror as he took in the words on the page.
Lord Regent Tyrion Lannister,
While engaged in a duel with Loras Tyrell, the King was severely injured. His injuries were avenged – Ser Loras is dead.
His Grace is currently unconscious.
Updates to follow.
Signed,
Lord Commander Barristan Selmy
Tyrion felt numb all over. He choked out a sob, and for the first time he could remember, he and Cersei embraced, both sat on the floor of the Red Keep with tears streaming down their faces.
The army of the King had regrouped in a clearing not too far from the battlefield. Overall, the Battle of Silver Hill, as it had misleadingly been named, had been a relative success. The army of the rebels had been smashed, though the exact number of losses that the enemies had taken were currently unclear. The loyalist forces had only lost around one and a half thousand men. Of course, this was all overshadowed by the injuries sustained by the King. The War Council had met urgently once the army had set up camp. Lord Tywin Lannister had taken control of the council.
"How is the King?" He asked Ser Barristan Selmy as the meeting came to order.
"He is unconscious, but seemingly stable, Lord Lannister. I have taken the liberty to summon maesters from the nearby keeps to help treat him." Selmy explained.
"Good. I want at least two Kingsguard protecting the King at all times." The Lannister Lord commanded.
"Of course, my Lord."
"The question remains, my lords," began Lord Bolton, "as to what we do now."
"I see no reason for the war to not continue, Lord Bolton." Replied Lord Westerling.
Roose nodded, "of course, my Lord. I was referring to our movements whilst the King is unconscious. Do we continue our attacks? Or do we wait for the King to awake before we do anything to further our position?"
Lord Eddard cut in, "we should await the King's awakening. His Grace has not appointed a second-in-command, there's nobody to take orders from."
Tywin glared at the Lord of Winterfell. "It would be foolish to not press our advantage; we now have the upper hand after the Battle of Silver Hill. If we attack now, then we can potentially end this war before the King even wakes up.
"If he wakes up." Lord Bracken corrected.
He immediately regretted speaking; all of the men in the room turned to face him, staring hard.
"Are you suggesting, my Lord, that my grandson may not wake up?" Tywin Lannister said harshly.
Lord Bracken bowed his head subconsciously. "No, my Lord, I was simply say-"
"What you said could equate to treason, Lord Bracken." Ser Barristan informed him, his voice cold.
"We have to be realistic!" Lord Bracken said forcefully, "it is quite possible that the King may not wake up, let alone recover from his injuries. There is a reason that we are meeting!"
"We are meeting to decide our next steps, not to discuss whether or not His Grace will wake up. He will, whether or not you believe it." The Lannister Lord said forcefully, brokering no further debate.
"Let us return to our original topic, my lords. I believe, as my brother said, it would be better to attack now. If we do not, then it is possible that the usurper will be able to reinforce his army; reducing our gains at the recent battle worthless."
"Who made you King, Lannister?" Greatjon Umber said loudly.
Tywin glared at the boisterous Northern lord. "I am simply saying how it would be tactically advantageous to attack; if His Grace was here then he would say the same thing."
"But he isn't here!" Shouted Umber.
"We can't just sit here forever", Tarly said, attempting to prevent an all-out shouting match.
"How about this," Lord Tarly began. "We wait three days, if the King isn't here by then, then we attack."
Just as Lord Stark opened his mouth to reply, a Lannister guard opened the flap to the tent.
"Forgive me my lords, but the lookouts have spotted horses approaching."
"What banners do they fly?" Asked Lord Bolton.
"Those of House Frey, my Lord."
"Ready the men." Lord Tully commanded. They had no idea which side the Late Lord Frey had chosen to support.
"Here we fucking go." The Greatjon mumbled to Lord Stark as they stood up together. 'Here we go indeed', his liege lord thought to himself. How he hated Lord Frey.