Highgarden
Samwell Tarly, Warden of the South
Samwell Tarly sighed as the smallfolk presenting their case about some land dispute against Lord Hightower got into a verbal, nearly physical fight with Hightower's representative about the fairness of using the wells.
Sam knew he was not qualified to rule the people of the Reach, when his good friend Aegon Tarstark, formerly known as Jon Snow, had decided to appoint him as Warden of the South. He strongly argued against it, but Jon said he trusted him well enough and he needed some allies to help him hold the Realm together.
Unfortunately, that did not sit well with the Hightowers, who were long under the assumption that they would inherit the position previously held by the Tyrells for generations. The years that went by further drove the wedge between Houses Tarly and Hightower, whose jealousy had turned into deep hatred for their liege. Every time Sam made an effort to make peace, the Hightowers would grow more volatile, which meant Sam had made his decision in this case.
"Both cases have good points," Sam said. "However, I must concede with the smallfolk in this matter. Lord Hightower must limit his use of the wells to the smallfolk for as long as they like."
"This is outrageous!" Hightower's representative said. "My Lord will hear this news at once."
"I strongly ask you to calm do-" Sam said softly.
"I will do no such thing," the representative spat. "Gods, you are really the most pathetic excuse of a Lord Paramount, let alone Warden of the South."
The crowd gasped, while the guards moved to unsheathe their swords, but Sam held out his hand, stopping them.
"When House Tyrell ruled Highgarden, the Hightowers prospered greatly," the representative continued, before pointing his finger up at Sam. "And where were you? Freezing your balls off at the Wall. Your consorting to wildling scum has softened your head. We all know that the real reason you are where you are, is because you're good friends with His Grace, who forsook his eldest child in favor of the youngest. What has this realm come to?"
It was at this point Sam had had enough. He could take insults upon his House, but when it came to his king, and his friend, it was hands down. Well, hand down.
"Have you finished?" Sam said coldly.
The man huffed and nodded his hand. "Aye, I'm finished."
He then turned heel and left the great hall, while Sam sighed.
"That will be all for now," Sam said, causing everyone to clear out. He then closed his eyes, and spoke again, "How much did you hear?"
"Enough."
Sam opened his eyes to find Gilly approaching him.
"I'm afraid the situation with the Hightowers is getting worse by the minute."
"Then why don't you ask the king for his help?"
"Jo- I'm afraid he is too busy with the concerns of the realm to help out an old friend."
"It wouldn't hurt if you asked," Gilly said before Sam's captain of the guards, Ser Rodrik Fossoway, a second son of one of House Fossoway's many distant branches.
"My Lord," Ser Rodrik said before looking at Gilly. "My Lady. A messenger has come riding a long way to speak with you."
"With me?" Sam's brows furrowed.
"Yes, he said it's urgent business."
"Send him in," Sam said.
Ser Rodrik left to get the messenger, and within a few seconds he returned.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sam said.
"A message from His Grace," said the messenger.
Sam and Gilly's eyes widened as they looked to each other.
"Let me see it," said Sam, who took the message given to him, and handed it to Gilly to look over. Gilly unsealed it before handing it back to Samwell, who read it before turning to the messenger. "Thank you for riding down here. Please stay and sup with us this evening."
"Thank you, my Lord," the servant bowed. "You are much too kind."
Ser Rodrik led the servant away, and Gilly passed the message back to her husband.
"Well it looks like you have your answer, Sam."
"Aye, that I do."
Shores of Pyke
Balor Greyjoy
"And as we mourn the loss of our sister, Yara of House Greyjoy…"
Yara's children, Balor and Laron, stood solemnly on the deck of the Iron Maiden, as they listened to a priest of the Drowned God give his speech about their mother. Yara Greyjoy was greatly feared and respected throughout the Seven Kingdoms by friends and foes alike. So it was a surprise when Yara Greyjoy was reportedly pregnant, considering she usually took female lovers to consort with, and an even more surprise that she turned out to be a good mother to her children.
Unfortunately, however none of the realm, except Yara herself, knew the identity of their father. Sadly, that secret would forever remain with her as the ironmen hoisted her body and tossed it over the ship into the sea.
Balor ordered that they sail back to Pyke. When they arrived, they found Maester Ivan waiting for them.
"My lords," Ivan said. "A raven from the Crown arrived while you were away."
Balor quickly snatched the message away from Ivan's hands and ripped it open, quickly skimming it over, with Laron by his side.
"So we're expected in the Crown," said Balor.
"I don't want to go," said Laron.
"I beg your pardon?" said Balor, who stared at his brother.
"He's there," said Laron. Balor knew who he was.
"He won't even dare," Balor said.
"He killed Mama," Laron challenged.
"Shush," Balor hissed. "You want his spies to hear you?"
Laron shook his head.
"Good," Balor said. "Now listen very carefully, little brother. The tides are changing. Not just here in the Iron Islands, but everywhere. Harlan knows that, and he's using it to his advantage to get the other lords to turn against us. He could win, with that fleet of his he's hidden away… somewhere."
"But wouldn't His Grace stop him from doing such a thing?" Laron said.
Balor smiled bitterly at him. "That's the thing, brother. It might be illegal according to the king, but he and the rest of the greenlanders wouldn't give a rat's ass what happens to us, because to them we are just scum that rape and pillage all that we can."
Laron lowered his eyes and said nothing.
"But perhaps there is a way we can use this invitation to our advantage," said Balor. "If we were to even possibly become friends with this King, perhaps Harlaw will think twice about crossing us Greyjoys, what with all the King's armies and all the King's men against his."
Laron nodded. "So, what do we do of Harlaw's fleet until then?"
Balor paused, before speaking. "Nothing. A fleet is useless until it is used, and Harlaw won't use it against us, especially if we have the Aegon - fucking - Tarstark backing us."
He turned, to look out over the sea, and watched as yet another batch of scout ships looking for Harlaw's hidden fleet returned empty handed.