Ah, here we go again. Another new story, in one of my favorite universes by the way. But, this should be pretty fun. There will be quite a few diverging plotlines, and maybe some character personality changes (sorry if that's not your thing, but character traits are affected by the story). Anyway, the history of House Tabor will be told throughout, as will the personal history of Felix Tabor. For now, you need only know that the story begins in 280AC at the completion of Robert's Rebellion against the Mad King.
Three weddings, Felix Tabor could now claim he had been in attendance of three weddings, which made four proper social events in his life. He could have claimed attendance to five events had he witnessed his older brother's knighting ceremony. Though, that day he had been rather busy as he recalled. He was doing something important, swordsmanship practice or planning the refurbishments for the battlements…
No, it was neither of those. He was quite certain, but recalling the particular matter that had drawn his attention was rather difficult.
The first wedding was his father's second marriage, rather ironic. Lord Hadrius II Tabor's previous wife, Felix's mother, died eight years ago, and he was remarried to Arika Drox daughter to Lord Drox of the Westerlands. In return for the marriage of a girl from a minor house, a substantial sum of money was provided to House Tabor to clear a portion of debt. House Drox, while not terribly influential, was quite wealthy, especially for a minor house.
The second wedding was that of Ned Stark to Catelyn Tully at Riverrun, where Jon Arryn had also been married to Lysa Tully. So, perhaps that counted as two weddings, meaning Felix had attended four weddings.
The third wedding – or the fourth depending on how it was counted – Felix currently attended. The new king, Robert Baratheon was just married to Cersei Lannister only thirty minutes ago or so. Despite the continual insistence of the hosts that the feast was to be held immediately following the ceremony, dinner seemed nowhere in sight. Pleasantries were exchanged and many congratulations were provided to the newlyweds.
Felix wished he was anywhere else. Even his brother's pigsty that he called a room would be preferrable currently.
The well-dressed and well-mannered lords, ladies, knights, and other influential guests mingled about like butterflies floating from one plant to another, never staying too long in one place. He found all the circumstance rather distasteful, yet somehow he felt an atrocious taste in his mouth spurned by the whole affair. As Felix recalled, he hadn't wanted a drink this badly at either of the weddings he had previously attended.
He could not spot the new King and Queen amongst the throng of well-wishers, but Felix wasn't exactly sure why he cared. His eyes were pulled inexplicably to the hidden couple, and he finally caught a glimpse of the two.
Robert laughed jovially, as Felix had discovered was his natural state of being. Though, his joviality was somewhat bitter, like he was laughing at people instead of laughing with them. Cersei smiled radiantly, happiness filtering outward from her bright emerald eyes. She seemed genuinely pleased, which was odd considering her natural state of being, which Felix was also vaguely familiar with.
A stabbing pain erupted in his chest as he stared, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Almost masochistically, Felix's gaze remained fixated on the couple. Now he felt bitter, just like Robert.
The soft steps of a man finally broke Felix's attention and brought him back to reality. Approaching, was another man who Felix was familiar with. They were friends of a sort, having met on multiple occasions and even lived together for a short time back home.
"Good evening, Lord Felix," the ever-cunning voice of Petyr Baelish spoke. "A pleasant surprise to see you here."
"Lord Petyr," Felix acknowledged in return, though maintained his stare on the king and queen.
"Did your father force your attendance? You don't particularly enjoy events like this as I recall."
"You were named to the King's small council this morning, were you not? Master of Coin I heard. That's quite a prestigious title for a man of The Fingers."
Petyr blinked, slightly perturbed that his question had gone unanswered. He inhaled slowly as he traced Felix's eyes towards the royal couple. After a brief pause he spoke again.
"Indeed I was," Petyr said. "An appointment which I greatly appreciate. Jon Arryn recommended me, and the king agreed."
"Lord Jon was no doubt swayed by the influence of his new wife," Felix observed pointedly.
Petyr only smirked in response. Thanks to the affections of Lysa towards Petyr, the man called 'Littlefinger' had certainly applied the proper leverage on Lysa, and Lysa had pressured Jon Arryn into his recommendation of Petyr to the small council.
"I'll admit my friend, I had expected King Robert to appoint you to the small council," Petyr continued. "He likes you, you know."
"More like grudgingly respects me," Felix replied.
"That's the closest Robert can get to liking someone," Petyr said. "You fought alongside him in the Rebellion, and you clearly contributed a great deal to earn his 'grudging respect' as you so eloquently put it."
"Robert likes his whores."
"He doesn't even like them. He only likes 'fulfilling' himself."
Felix chuckled to himself, as did Petyr. For a moment, Felix could almost forget the pain in his chest as he laughed with his old friend.
"Still," Petyr said. "It must bother you not to be named to the council. You risk life and limb fighting for Robert, yet you earn nothing in return. That can't be easy."
"Perhaps I'll stay here," Felix mused. "I see no reason why I must return with my father."
"Your father might not find such a decision agreeable to him," a liquid voice said softly.
Felix turned to find a doughy bald man padding toward them soundlessly. He recognized the figure as Lord Varys, though not from any personal familiarity with the man.
"Ah, Lord Varys, you've come in search of more intellectual company I see," Petyr greeted.
Felix chuckled as he watched Cersei speaking to Jaime Lannister. She smiled widely and nodded at something her brother said, then looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with Felix. He did not look away, but instead held his stony eyed stare. Cersei's smile seemed to soften as their gaze's met, but she did not look away either.
"So it would seem," Varys replied smoothly. "Congratulations on your appointment to the small council, by the way. My apologies for not saying so sooner, but I was rather preoccupied."
"Worry not Lord Varys, though your words of congratulation are kind."
"And Lord Felix, a pleasure to meet you in person," Varys said, bowing slightly. "Though, I hear you haven't yet been awarded a position on the council."
"It's all anyone wants to tell me these days," Felix muttered, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Cersei.
Her eyes glimmered in the gentle light of the hall, appearing to grow more vibrant as they stared. Felix found himself wondering why her gaze lingered on his own. He didn't find his own eyes particularly interesting, just a pale blue rarely possessing any light. There was nothing special there.
"Well My Lord, there is still one position left open on the council," Varys said.
"Master of Ships," Petyr completed the sentence for Varys, leaving the eunuch slightly perturbed. "It's hardly as prestigious as the title of Hand, but there might not be another position on the council with more inherent power."
"Indeed, the Master of Ships has full control of the King's navy, which is no small thing," Varys agreed. "Though it would require you to live out on that glorified rock they call a castle, and there's still the loyalists to deal with. It doesn't sound particularly enticing to me."
"No whispers to hear in the middle of the ocean?" Petyr quipped.
"It is quite difficult to fulfill my true calling when there are so few people to glean information from, no courts, no tournaments, no great secrets."
"Doesn't sound so bad to me," Felix spoke, half joking and half serious.
"Not much of a social butterfly then My Lord?" Varys asked with the barest hint of amusement in his voice. Though, as far as Felix could tell, Varys always sounded vaguely amused.
"My friend here prefers numbers and machines to people," Petyr explained. "I can't think of a situation where he would prefer to converse rather than draw up plans for a building."
Felix watched as Cersei finally stopped their impromptu staring contest. A neatly dressed older woman placed a hand lightly on the new queen's shoulder. Cersei practically jumped out of her dress with shock and whirled around to berate the older woman who apologized profusely. Her gaze then levelled on Felix, whereupon an odd look crossed her face. Felix returned the old lady's odd look with a hard stare. The old woman quickly looked away, unable to hold to his fiery gaze. The pair disappeared into the throng, and Felix returned his attention to his scheming friends.
"One would expect nothing less of The Architect," Varys returned, nodding in Felix's direction as he mentioned the nickname.
"It depends on the person Lord Varys," Felix refuted. "Some people aren't so bad to converse with, you for example."
"You are too kind My Lord."
Felix tracked the direction of Varys's shifty eyes in the direction of the now hidden queen. Varys's reputation was well-deserved, even if following the Tabor's rather obvious staring wasn't the greatest feat. Varys clearly spotted the interaction as unusual, as he should have. It was a rather unusual thing for a newly married woman to stare so long at another man.
"And what of my conversational skill old friend?" Petyr questioned.
"You have your moments," Felix granted with a small shrug.
The three men shared a short chuckle. Where others would have laughed drunkenly and boisterously, men like them chuckled quietly finding amusement in small amounts and hiding many of their true feelings. Felix preferred their method of communication. It was easier to understand, more logical.
"Still, I would like to see you serving on The Small Council," Varys stated. "It would be such a shame to see your numerous talents remained confined to Luna Meridiem. Your home certainly appreciates your presence, but it might be beneficial to take your skills to higher places."
"I'm not certain Dragonstone would be classified as a 'higher place'," Petyr remarked.
"It's better than remaining landless in my father's castle," Felix said. "Though, I doubt I will be granted the position. Stannis will be named Master of Ships in all likelihood."
"Interesting, do explain," Varys urged.
"It's simple really. Stannis is Robert's brother, I'm not. Stannis has the full might of the Stormlands' navy on his side, I don't. Stannis has taken many voyages out into the Narrow Sea, I've been into the open ocean exactly once in my life."
"You put too much trust in Robert's relationship with Stannis," Petyr said. "The two brothers have never held love for each other."
"Public opinion can be a strong motivator," Felix countered. "The people like to see a king who cares for his family and picking an outsider over his own brother could have ill consequences."
"Perhaps," Varys agreed hesitantly. "I'm certain your expertise in engineering could prove useful however. The king could see potential to vastly improve naval technology, and – no offense to Lord Stannis – he is not exactly an innovator."
"My ability to design ships doesn't mean that I will be able to command them, and my experience in naval command is equal to the length of your manhood Varys."
"The removal of that particular appendage was not my choice, you know," Varys commented.
"Of course not, who would voluntarily slice off his own cock?" Felix returned rather brutally.
"Ignoring that particular allegory, I do see your point Felix," Petyr cut through the joke. "But some of the greatest commanders only became so because they were forced into roles they were previously unfit for. And I am sure you'd learn quickly."
A few servants entered the room bearing what looked to be the first stages of the feast. Platters were stacked with bread, cheese, and fruit and many pitchers of wine were placed atop the long tables. There were four of those tables, enough for most of the guests to sit. At the head of the hall was one slightly shorter table, the location for the guests of honor. Likely, the present family of the husband – which included only Renly – and the family of the wife – including Tywin, Jaime, and Tyrion Lannister – would sit alongside the couple. Jon Arryn would likely sit there, as would Ned Stark – who was only in King's Landing for one more day. Felix could not even begin to guess who else would sit alongside the new king and queen.
"It is better to hold your own position of power than to be a second son in your father's court," Varys stated sagely.
"Oh, I certainly wouldn't decline the position if Robert were to make me Master of Ships," Felix responded. "I was only stating that I believed his doing so would be unusual. I wouldn't appoint me if I were in his place."
"That would be your failing then," Petyr said. "I would."
Felix fixed his cold eyes on Petyr for a moment, trying to determine if Littlefinger was attempting some form of joke at his expense. Petyr met the gaze with a rather calm look, as if daring Felix to challenge him.
"How kind of you," Felix spoke flatly, bordering on sarcasm.
"Lord Felix!" A man called out to him from the crowd.
His attention was drawn to the source of the voice, a young man in armor – city watch no doubt, acting as security for the event – jogging towards him. He had an earnest face and wide brown eyes, wearing an unadorned sword on his belt. Felix wished he was allowed to wear his own weapon tonight, but normal people would object to his bringing a sword into a wedding ceremony. So, instead, Felix wore only his long dagger – a very effective weapon he had used to kill men in the past, but nothing compared to a sword.
"The uh…" The kid paused in his speech briefly stumbling over his words. "The king wishes your presence at the table of honor."
Felix wondered why he considered the city watchman a kid, when in fact the watchman was no younger than Felix himself. Perhaps it was in his demeanor, or maybe Felix himself wasn't self-aware?
"King Robert asked me to eat dinner with him?" Felix asked, clearly pronouncing each word in slight confusion.
"Yes milord," the watchman answered. "Requested your presence himself he did."
"Very well," Felix nodded briefly, then turned back to his companions.
"It seems you have no need for low nobility like us," Varys quipped. "Though I did enjoy our conversation."
"I'm glad to have spoken with you as well Lord Varys," Felix replied gracefully. "And you Lord Petyr."
"Always a pleasure," Petyr said smoothly. "Enjoy yourself. Council position or no, this is a night to take advantage of."
"Indeed," Felix agreed with a wolfish smirk.
The table of honor was mostly filled when Felix approached. Many of the faces, he did not even recognize – which probably said more about his own ignorance than the king and queen's wishes to dine with minor lords. In fact, Felix very much doubted most of these men and women were of minor houses, but he personally couldn't recognize many by appearance alone.
He did however recognize the Lannister family – father, sons, and daughter – spread around the rectangle. Tyrion and Jaime sat side-by-side to the left of Cersei, while Tywin took a position opposite the king's currently empty chair. On either side of the eldest Lannister were empty chairs. Few people wanted to side beside Tywin Lannister it seemed.
Naturally, Felix sat directly to the right of Tywin, nodding briefly to the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin returned the gesture with a stone-cold stare but nodded in recognition.
"Lord Felix," the new queen greeted gracefully. "I was not aware you would be joining us for the feast."
From her tone, Felix determined immediately that Cersei was not displeased to see him. But, why would she be? They were old friends after all, or at least friends if not old ones. Though, if Felix was of a conspiratorial mind – he certainly was – he might have noticed that Cersei's response seemed almost rehearsed. Felix filed that information away in his mind for later.
"A welcome addition I say," Tyrion spoke up, sounding mildly tipsy – though there was rarely a time when he didn't sound as such. "You will bring some life to this dry boring table my friend."
Felix cocked an eyebrow in the youngest Lannister's direction, drawing attention to the obviously ridiculous statement.
"You must try the wine Felix," Tyrion continued, oblivious to all signals directed at him. "It really is excellent, a Dornish red. Truly, no expense was spared for this special occasion."
"Perhaps the wine is a bit too good," Tywin muttered, evidently frustrated with his son's mannerisms. Felix could understand. The boy was only fifteen.
"I have to agree with my brother on this matter," Cersei stated. "The wine is wonderful."
"Not much of a wine drinker," Felix replied.
Ned Stark, who had previously gone unnoticed at the table by Felix now came more prominently into view as he leaned forward. The stoic northerner seemed to agree with Felix. Lord Eddard did not appear the type to lose himself in the joys of drinking.
"Not a wine drinker?" the same older woman Felix had spotted with Cersei earlier asked incredulously. "Whatever do you drink My Lord?"
Felix ignored her questions and popped a piece of cheese into his mouth while gesturing for a servant to approach. A young girl with a vaguely Valyrian appearance hurried across the hall in response.
"Could you find me a brown liquor?" Felix questioned. "I'd be quite grateful."
"Like ale?" the serving girl asked.
"No, something more potent."
"I think I could find you a Braavosian rum, would that do?"
"That sounds excellent, thank you," Felix spoke with a gentle smile.
The girl returned his expression, then disappeared to locate the rum.
"Rum?" The old noblewoman asked. "A drink for commoners."
"I do wonder as well, why not wine?" Cersei asked. "It is so much more flavorful."
The queen's face scrunched up slightly as she said the word flavorful, like she was thinking of the taste of rum. Felix couldn't fault her for her reaction. Not many people enjoyed the taste of rum.
"Don't like wine," Felix answered. "It's always tasted rather odd to me."
"I-," the old woman geared up to berate Felix for his alcoholic preferences again, but snapped her jaw shut just as quickly when Jaime Lannister spoke over her.
"A man is certainly entitled to his tastes," Jaime said, gesturing with an open hand. "Even if they are rather odd."
Jaime raised his glass of wine in a mocking toast, which Felix returned with a grape he held. While Jaime sipped his rotten grapes, Felix crunched his teeth down into a fresh one.
"I have to ask," Felix spoke again. "Why not invite my father to join? King Robert enjoys his company, yet he only invited me."
Silence greeted his inquiry. Tywin was obviously disinterested, Tyrion was becoming more incoherent by the moment, Ned was not much of a talker, the nobles who Felix didn't recognize were not exactly in any position to speak for the king, and Jaime differed to his sister. Cersei's mouth opened and closed several times like a guppy before she finally cleared her throat and spoke.
"I could have the servants bring extra chairs for your father and brother if you like," Cersei prompted and completely ignored his question.
"I prefer it this way actually," Felix answered.
"Yes, your father told me of your…strained relationship," Tywin said. "He called you a callous insufferable anti-social know-it-all."
"That's certainly true," Felix acknowledged. "Maybe a bit harsh, but true nonetheless."
"That's not how I see things," Tyrion with words heavily slurred. "You're a righteous and honorable man with many talents and an excellent sense of humor."
Now Felix knew Tyrion was drunk, because his sense of humor certainly was not excellent. He remained silent in the face of the drunken joker.
"I think you've had enough wine Tyrion," Jaime said. "Wouldn't want to be caught in a compromising position."
"I'm already in a compromising position brother," Tyrion replied as he poured more wine into his cup.
Felix watched as Tywin's eyes darkened considerably, seeing his son descend further into drunkenness. Felix was firmly aware of Tywin's dislike for his son, and though he found the lord's reasoning rather foolish, he couldn't do anything to change his mind.
"You've had enough," Tywin pronounced clearly.
"Of course," Tyrion said, but he poured the wine anyway.
"Tyrion," Tywin stated lowly, dangerously. "That's enough."
Tyrion stopped pouring the wine, his eyes flicking to his father's almost fearfully. Felix merely observed as father and son glared daggers at each other across the table.
Tywin called for a servant standing in waiting and demanded the man escort Tyrion back to his room. Tyrion looked ready to fight back, but he was quite clearly too drunk to answer his father with any form of clarity of speech.
"Very well," Tyrion acquiesced quietly.
He stared witheringly at his father while the servant guided the young Lannister from the wedding hall. Tywin turned back to the table with a harumph, then took a measured sip from his cup.
"Well," Cersei broke the awkward silence, attempting to bring the table back to some sense of merriment. "Tell us of your time during the Battle of the Trident Lord Felix."
"Has King Robert not shared tales of the battle already?" Felix replied.
Indeed, Robert had addressed the whole hall, regaling the guests of the tale of his greatness. He had of course exaggerated the tale substantially, though that was to be expected when Robert was concerned.
"I'd quite like to hear your retelling of the events," Cersei insisted.
Felix remained silent for a moment, considering how to respond. Moments later, he did not even have to speak as Ned Stark did so in his place.
"He was instrumental in victory Your Grace," Ned spoke up. "He led the cavalry in a flanking maneuver that wiped out the Dornish contingent of the army using some creative weaponry he designed himself."
"Creative weaponry?" Jaime asked, now suddenly interested. "Of what sort?"
"Handheld explosives," Felix answered. "Sharp bits of metal are launched in all directions when they blow up. The powder was held inside the bomb, along with the ignitor. The fuse was lit by releasing a lever on the exterior, and the lever was held closed by a safety pin. Pull the pin, throw the bomb, and pieces of hot metal pierce the flesh of your enemies."
"What do you call them?" Jaime questioned further. "I'd quite like to see one."
"I concur," Tywin added.
"I called them grenades My Lords, and I'm sure I could build one for a demonstration during my stay."
"Most impressive," Cersei complemented smoothly, sending a warm smile his way.
"Lord Felix neglected to mention the most impressive accomplishment of his charge," Ned inserted himself again. "He killed Lewyn Tyrell himself."
All heads swept back towards Felix showing their acknowledgement of his achievement. Felix just shrugged nonchalantly.
At this point, the Valyrian serving girl returned to the table carrying a bottle of rum with her. She placed it on the table next to Felix deferentially.
"Thank you," Felix addressed her with as much kindness as he could muster.
The girl smiled back at him as she wandered off to serve another noble at a different table. Felix felt bad for her. He had always had a soft spot for the servants in the castle back home. Many of them worked quite diligently, and in return they were often treated with scorn by the nobles who housed them. Felix found that rather distasteful, especially considering that the servants handled their drinks and could easily slip a drop of poison into a cup before providing it.
"Lord Felix, you speak as if you plan to stay in King's Landing, but your father departs for Luna Meridiem tomorrow does he not?" The elder noble woman asked.
"That he does," Felix replied as he poured a decent portion of rum into his cup. "I will not be returning with him."
"Why not?" The noble woman questioned further.
"Can you pester someone else with your questions My Lady?"
The woman's face drew into a scowl, then she stood from the table with incense written all across her body. Good riddance.
Felix sipped his rum, allowing the spice to settle into his mouth. It was a much better taste than any wine. There was a strength in rum, a smokiness, and a hint of hard reality. The drink helped remind him that he was just as mortal as everyone else, because death approached all men, commoners and noblemen alike. Valar Morghulis, as they said in Braavos.
The others at the table resettled into polite conversation while Felix drank in silence grateful to be free of the endless attention. Though, every so often Cersei glanced in his direction, and seemingly every time, his eyes were there to meet hers.
Almost twenty minutes passed before Robert finally took his place alongside his new wife. He smelled strongly of alcohol, though he seemed to be holding his liquor marginally better than Tyrion was earlier. Certainly, this was because of his larger frame. He was accompanied by the new Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.
"Your Grace," Ned greeted more acerbically than Felix would have expected. "So good of you to join us."
"Yes, the same to you Ned," Robert replied as he shoved his way into the large chair left for him. "Can't say the same for all of you though."
Some of the nobles shifted uncomfortably. Tywin held completely still, even knowing that Robert's comment was directed at least in part to him. Felix only took another drink of his rum.
"Lord Felix," Robert greeted, spotting the Architect alongside the lord of Casterly Rock. "Wasn't aware you'd feast with us."
"But you invited me Your Grace," Felix said calmly. "A man of the city watch told me so."
His eyes dragged slowly over to Cersei's face. The queen averted her gaze quickly, suddenly finding her glass of wine very interesting while a blush spread across her cheeks. She had invited him to the table evidently. It was nice of her to remember their friendship despite her new station as the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Did I?" Robert wondered aloud. "You're welcome then."
"And thank you Your Grace," Felix returned.
Finally, the feast arrived. There was a great deal of food considering that King's Landing had recently been sacked by the lord sitting to Felix's left. A large pig, multiple chickens, and many steaming baked potatoes were placed on the table. There were numerous other foods plated as well, though Felix did not take particular note of any of them.
The dining began in earnest with the conversation settling to a quiet period at the table of honor. Other tables were not so quiet as men participated in drinking contests and women cheered and squealed loudly. Felix spotted Petyr and Varys sitting at a particularly rowdy table looking most uncomfortable. He smiled slightly in witness to their pain.
Dinner was excellent, especially the pork. The best chefs had surely been called for this event, and Felix appreciated that. Though, to be fair, Petyr would probably have his work cut out for him as Master of Coin, given Robert's profligate nature.
"Actually," Robert spoke after chomping his way through a chicken leg. "It's good you're here, saves me the trouble of finding you later. I want you to serve on the Small Council Felix."
A few heads popped up from their plates to glance at Robert. Tywin looked rather annoyed, but he was only punishing himself by refusing any position other than Hand of the King. Jaime looked surprised, and Cersei's face was unreadable.
"As your Master of Ships?" Felix questioned as he poured himself a second glass of rum. "You are aware I have no ships and no experience commanding ships?"
"Of course, I fucking know that," Robert shot back. "But I want you to be the Master of Ships anyway. I'll even make you lord of Dragonstone once we kill the Targaryen shits."
"With what ships are you going to invade Dragonstone?"
"The ships at Storm's End, I'll give you half of them and half of the men crewing them."
"You'd give away half your fleet?"
"It's Stannis's fucking fleet now," Robert said as he slurped down more wine. "And half of it's yours. I had Maester Pycell send a raven this afternoon informing Stannis of my decision."
Felix blinked once in surprise, rendered speechless. Frankly, he hadn't expected to be named Master of Ships, nor had he expected the honor to come so soon.
"You'll do well I'm sure," Robert said dismissively, downing the rest of his wine. "Your first order is to kill every last fucking Targaryen on that rock."
"As soon as I have my ships Your Grace," Felix returned smoothly. "But you're certain of this decision? You wouldn't prefer Stannis to hold Dragonstone?"
"Am I certain?" Robert asked mockingly. "I'm always certain Architect, and I want you to be my Master of Ships. Keep an eye on those scheming shits Varys and Petyr Baelish, would you?"
Felix still wasn't entirely sure why Robert didn't regard him as one of those, 'scheming shits' as he so eloquently put it.
"Of course, Your Grace," Felix nodded politely.
Internally, Felix was about as happy as he could remember feeling. Although, that wasn't a particularly impressive amount of happiness, but it was considerable for the clinical Felix. He would not remain in consistent conflict with his father and brother. His stepmother would not view him as nothing more than a plotter. Felix would rule a castle of his own. Perhaps it was only granted to him and could be taken away at a moment's notice, but it was his nonetheless.
With a little time and sufficient work, Felix could even maintain a permanent claim to the island keep. Wouldn't that be something?
"I suppose congratulations are in order, Lord Felix of Dragonstone," Tywin said, somewhere between complimentary and sarcastic. It was a tone that could only be spoken by Lord Tywin Lannister.
"Not yet," Felix replied.
"Better you be on the council than Stannis I suppose."
"Agreed, but mostly because I wanted to be on the council, not because of Stannis."
Tywin chuckled to himself while he sipped his wine.
Chatter continued idly and uninterestingly to Felix. His father and brother, Hadrius II and Hadrius III, eyed him jealously. Felix returned their looks with a cold stare. It seemed, like many of the men, his father was quite drunk. Little Hadrius was more sober, and obviously calmer. He would make a better lord than his father, if only marginally.
He was beginning to wish he had just declined the invitation to the wedding. Robert would have made him Master of Ships regardless of his attendance, and Felix would have skipped the painful small talk. He could have gotten in a workout session instead.
Seeing Petyr again was welcome, and meeting Lord Varys wasn't so bad, but those were only minor moments in what was a night of torturous interactions with pompous nobles who thought themselves far more intelligent than they really were. The only other man in attendance who Felix held any respect for was Tywin Lannister. He wasn't just a brute or a glorified sword arm.
Deserts were served eventually. By that time, most everyone was drunk. Felix himself had downed four glasses of rum now, and, considering the drunken state of the rest of the hall, had taken to drinking directly from the bottle. Tywin – who wasn't drunk – eyed Felix critically. Felix ignored Tywin.
Most of the men of the hall carried Cersei aloft on their arms toward the bedding chamber. Perverts, the lot of them, or at least Felix thought so. Next to him, Tywin's left eye twitched in slight anger. It had to be difficult to be a parent who cared for a child, even to be a cold one like Tywin. Felix couldn't imagine what it was like to watch your daughter being groped by drunk idiots like Cersei was now.
What a cruel place the world could be…
Many of the drunken younger women ripped Robert's clothes from his body as they guided him after his new wife. The king was obviously far too large to be carried by the women, and he was really drunk. Whatever state of inebriation Robert had been in earlier could not possibly compare to his state now. He stumbled along half-sleeping. Felix wondered if he would even be able to get it up for the consummation.
The party rolled down the hall and eventually disappeared from sight in the great hall. Felix only rolled his eyes at the foolishness of it all. This was one of many reasons why he would not indulge in a wedding ceremony if he were to ever be married. Though – he supposed – for one to indulge in an activity, that activity had to be pleasurable to the indulger, so perhaps indulge was the wrong word.
"Lord Felix," Tywin leaned over the table on his forearm, speaking almost conspiratorially. "Look after my daughter for me when you can. I would very much appreciate it."
"In the not so distant future I won't be spending so much time in King's Landing, meaning that looking after Cersei will prove difficult," Felix replied, swirling the remainder of his rum around in the bottom of the bottle.
"As I said, when you can, please look after her."
"You think she could be in danger here?"
"Everyone is in danger in King's Landing," Tywin stated, his eyes flicking toward the empty hall. "I worry for her."
"You've never struck me as the worrying type," Felix said, swallowing the last of the rum. "I thought your concern was with family legacy or some such nonsense. Surely a little bit of danger for your daughter is worth the price?"
"My concerns for those two things are not mutually exclusive. A good father worries for both."
"But not when Tyrion is concerned."
Tywin levelled a stern gaze on the second son. His demeanor indicated quite strongly that he had no interest in discussing that point with Felix.
"We are quite alike, you know," Tywin continued. "Born to less than successful families with a refusal to accept the life we were told would be ours, willing and capable of changing the course of our lives and many others, ruthlessly ambitious…and what did we do? We built our own fortunes. I rescued House Lannister from debt and ruin. You singlehandedly made House Tabor a major player in the game of thrones with your innovative mind. Our fathers couldn't do what we could because they didn't possess the strength or vision we do.
"The world is built by men like us, but it is ruled by men like Robert. I am curious, why do you think that is?"
Felix eyed Tywin for a moment, knowing the lord of Casterly Rock probably could make a perfectly coherent argument to back up his statement. He was asking for Felix's opinion.
"History's builders are so rarely remembered," Felix said. "The warriors, the conquerors, and the reformers, they are always remembered. Yet, the builders are not. Their contributions are taken for granted, even though their contributions are the greatest achievements of all."
Tywin smirked, radiating smugness as he always seemed to.
"Indeed, true power is held by the men who build the world," Tywin said. "Because what world would Robert rule over without you or I to prepare it for him first?"
"Perhaps we are alike in that sense."
"Regardless, I do hope you can watch over Cersei, and I would certainly rather have you doing it than anyone else."
Felix did not reply. There was no real response he could think of, and he definitely couldn't think of a reason why he would want to respond in the first place. Fathoming Tywin's concern for Cersei was not something Felix was capable of, nor was he truly capable of comprehending concern for anyone. Perhaps that was one of the reasons his father so distasted him. Soldiers were supposed to be comradely he had heard, and Felix was in no way that.
Though, that did remind him of one particular matter that needed to be taken care of. If he was going to remain in King's Landing then later travel to Dragonstone, he would need a trusted friend by his side – his only friend as it turned out.
He shoved himself up from the table, head swimming slightly thanks to the liquor. Felix did not enjoy being inebriated, but he did love the taste of good drink as all men did. Too bad the effects of alcohol could be so obnoxious.
"Have a pleasant evening Lord Felix," Tywin stated flatly.
Felix nodded respectfully to Tywin, then marched off towards his extremely drunk father and mildly tipsy brother. Each Hadrius was having a considerably wonderful time. He had to ruin that for them.
Approaching silently from behind, he heard the lord of Luna Meridiem make a particularly crass joke. Felix smirked, after all, his father did have an excellent sense of humor despite his being a monumental fool.
"Father," Felix greeted in his best statesman voice.
Lord Hadrius whirled about with wine glass still in hand, eyes flashing with first surprise then anger. Rotten grape juice dripped down his chin, and his companions at table either didn't notice it, or they were afraid to speak ill of the lord of a major house.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Felix commented, tapping at his chin to indicate the juice still dripping from there.
"And you seemed to be enjoying yourself with the king and queen," Lord Hadrius replied, words slurring but not devoid of venom.
Felix stared his father right in his deadened drunken eyes. His father stared back, though not thanks to any particular fortitude. For all his talk of great warriors, Lord Hadrius was not one himself, not anymore. His formerly long dark hair had gone gray years ago, and now it resembled pubic hairs quite closely. His body was now constituted in rolls of fat and jiggling leg muscles when he walked. The eyes matched Felix's own – pale blue, lightless and loveless.
Hadrius the younger looked much like his father had when he was in his youth. His hair was long, dark, and wild, but his eyes were those of their now deceased mother. Gentle brown, almost jolly were his eyes, certainly not befitting of the tall and powerful tormentor. He could look down on Felix once upon a time, standing a few inches above the second Tabor in height, something that had bothered Felix as a child. These days though, Felix stood a few inches taller than his brother. Felix figured he was probably the tallest person at the wedding, standing six feet five inches.
"You do know that Cersei is a married woman now," Hadrius III continued. "Loving another man's wife is exceedingly dangerous, especially when that man is the king. Best you forget about her now son. I will find you a suitable bride one of these days."
Men around the table chuckled heartily at Felix's expense. Hadrius III laughed hardest of all. His brother always enjoyed seeing little brother squirm in discomfort.
Those days were gone though. Felix held his ground and waited patiently for the laughter to dissipate.
"Cersei and I were friends. That is all."
"In the same way a man and a tavern wench are friends!" Hadrius II exclaimed.
More laughter followed the rather inadequate joke. His father's sense of humor failed him there in Felix's opinion. The joke was not his finest.
"Not exactly," Felix replied pedantically. "Also, I would caution you not to speak ill of our new queen. Very serious charges await such crimes. Though, you'd probably escape them by joining the Night's Watch. I haven't known you to be above groveling and begging for your life like a coward."
Now it was Felix's turn to receive a round of laughs. Hadrius II remained stony faced while Felix smirked smugly at his father. Hadrius III's face went red, and he stomped right up in Felix's face.
"You'd best watch yourself boy," Hadrius II threatened. "Or you'll find yourself in the dungeons when we return to Luna Meridiem."
"About that you see…" Felix returned. "I won't be returning to Luna Meridiem."
"What?" Hadrius III reacted first, low voice thundering in shock. "You would defy the orders of your lord?"
"Not technically. King Robert made me his master of ships, and he agreed to grant me Dragonstone once I chase the Targaryens out."
Hadrius III's jaw dropped straight down. He spluttered, then closed his mouth again unable to find the words to describe the situation.
"You're lying," Hadrius II accused.
"Ask Robert yourself if you wish."
The second and third Hadrius both stood stock still and dumbstruck. Felix reveled in their disbelief.
"Also father, Petrus stays with me," Felix stated, staking his claim.
"Petrus!?" Hadrius III cried out.
"Silence boy, you're making a fool of yourself!" Hadrius II shouted back.
Father and son eyed each other for a moment before Hadrius II turned his gaze back to Felix. Each pair of pale blue eyes sought to weaken the opposing pair with little success. The father's eyes blazed with fury while the son's penetrated with icy spears.
"Petrus will not join you," Hadrius II answered finally.
"He will."
"He will not."
"He will, and he's always liked me better anyway."
"Petrus has served faithfully as the master of arms for House Tabor since the days of my father, your grandfather, and he will continue to serve the lord of Luna Meridiem."
"Petrus will join me," Felix stated again.
"He is a loyal man and will serve his lord!"
"We'll see father," Felix replied, smirking still. "But I believe he will be serving me in the not-so-distant future, tomorrow in fact."
Hadrius II's eyes blazed brighter, and his fatty jowls flopped up and down as he screamed unintelligibly at his son.
"Glad to see the old man is still well," Felix quipped his farewell to his older brother.
"Glad to see you're the same obnoxious piece of shit as always," Hadrius III quipped back.
Felix chuckled to himself as he turned his back on his brother, marching straight out of the hall. He just couldn't stand the necessity of social interaction for another second.
Looking out over the dark water brought Felix a great sense of calm. He hadn't had the opportunity to see the ocean very often as a child. Though, to be fair, this wasn't an ocean. It was a bay – Blackwater Bay to be specific – yet it was a much larger body of water than any other Felix had encountered as a child, save a short trip to Pentos with his father and brother.
He did not look back on that trip with fond memories, nor did he really look back on any part of his childhood fondly. Felix suspected that, could he really remember his mother, he would remember her fondly. He vaguely recalled her being kind and loving to him as a child, but he didn't have a wealth of information to draw from.
Her name was Elison Wells, the eldest daughter of a Dornish nobleman called Jarvas Wells. Felix had never met that particular grandfather of his. Elison was always a rather depressed woman in Felix's mind. As a child, he often wondered why she rarely smiled or laughed, and when she did there was a copious amount of pain in her expressions. Felix knew that she loved him and cared for him, despite the cruelty of his father and brother. She was one of only three who he had ever been close to back home.
The second of those three was his other grandfather, Hadrius Tabor I. Hadrius I was everything any Tabor strove to be, powerful, ruthless, good in a fight, good behind a desk, and never satisfied with his own station. Hadrius I was a former knight in House Arryn's court, but – as it was described to him by Hadrius I himself – his grandfather grew bored of serving other men and set out to create his own fortune.
Hadrius I travelled out into the Mountains of the Moon, and eventually in the southern Vale, he found a place he wanted to call home. His actions were not taken to kindly by House Arryn, and knights and mercenaries alike were sent to hunt him down and bring Lord Arryn his head. However, through some shrewd alliances with the clansmen living in the mountains and no shortage of fierce combat, Hadrius I was eventually able to assert himself as an individual power in the Vale.
Luna Meridiem was then constructed, and Hadrius I began his rule independent of the commands of House Arryn. He regularly joked that the Seven Kingdoms became the Eight Kingdoms the moment he fought off the retinae of Vale soldiers hunting him. Following the establishment of Luna Meridiem, four other castles were built in his territory and granted to the clansmen who had aided in his rebellion against House Arryn. The clansmen became his vassals, and a mini kingdom was established in the Mountains of the Moon.
Hadrius I was not without fault, but he was a damn sight better than his heir, or his son's heir. For example, he had a decent relationship with his wife, and a good relationship with his kids. That could not be said of Hadrius II.
The third and final person of great import during his childhood was Petrus of Walano. A Summer Islander, Petrus travelled away from his home as a young boy and took up residence in Braavos. He served with the Golden Company for many years before a chance encounter with Hadrius I convinced Petrus that his service would be better provided to the young House Tabor. Petrus became a trusted advisor of Hadrius I and was named his Master at Arms, thanks to his battle prowess.
Felix had Petrus to thank for his current skill in combat. The Summer Islander had taught him a great deal. Through repeated beatings, Felix eventually came to grasp the complex nature of swordplay and came to understand the even deeper mental battle that occurred during any conflict.
Of those three, all but Petrus were dead now. Hadrius I was an old man when he died, likely from some form of liver complications. He was quite the heavy drinker, just as his son was it seemed. His mother had committed suicide when Felix was only ten years old. He never fully understood the reason for her decision, as she had left nothing behind to explain herself, but he knew her life hadn't been easy.
In the end, Felix wondered if it was simply bad luck to be a close acquaintance of his. A sixty-seven percent chance of death could not be called good odds by any stretch of the imagination.
What truly captured his own imagination though was the possibility now laying before him. Felix would no longer be bound by his father's foolish restraints or tormented by his brother's idiocy. Felix would be free, and that meant that he could become whoever and whatever he wanted to be.
Felix had always considered the world as his to do with as he liked. Through the imposition of his own will and mind, he knew there was little he could not do. Now, with a position on the Small Council and a title of his own, Felix had more potential than ever to make of the world what he wanted.
Already many ideas formed in his head. He pictured a large net of influence spread across the Narrow Sea and beyond. Felix could become the head of all trade between Westeros and Essos, and so too could he gain access to information many would never hear of.
Perhaps it would take many years to achieve his visions, and there would be setbacks along the way of course. Yet, that was of little concern to Felix. He did not know anything about sailing ships for example, but he would learn all he could before the arrival of the forces from the Stormlands. It seemed likely that there were some major ways to improve on the designs of the ships. Maybe they could be made faster and lighter, or more adept in combat.
As the waves crashed against the rocky cliffs below, Felix's mind was whisked away into the world of possibilities before him. The world was certainly his to build, and his to shape as he saw fit. He was the Architect of his own Fortune now, and Felix was going to build that fortune at any cost.
Well, this was fun to write. I hope this story can really go somewhere because I already really enjoy some of the characters here even though not all of them have been introduced. Please share any thoughts you might have. I would love to hear them, especially since this is a new story.
Thanks for reading friends.
-Red
