Two figures flashed repeatedly in Orys's mind as he made his way towards the Red Keep, slashing and striking men down left and right: a wide-eyed, dead Edric Storm lying in a pool of blood and a severely bruised and injured Lord Tarly. The latter was not dead, oh no. Orys had ensured that the Lord of Horn Hill remained alive for a public and painful execution. The northmen did punch and assault the Lord Tarly for threatening Lady Wylla – Orys did not stop them. They had every right to do so, as long as they did not kill him.
"The Red Keep's been breached!"
Orys's heart skipped a beat. Was Uncle Stannis already attacking the Red Keep with his host of men?
With most of the enemy soldiers closest to him dead or injured, Orys hurried to the Red Keep, Ser Balon Swann behind him and Robb Stark next to him. Robb had fought extremely well, considering he still carried pains and healing injuries from his battles in the North. Then again, those whose loved ones were in danger often fought the hardest.
The flood of Reach and Dornish soldiers had ended. Only a couple of soldiers attempted to engage Orys and his men in battle. Many of them threw down their swords in surrender. I will pardon them, Orys thought as he cautiously walked to the bronze gates that had been rammed open. I will pardon them – they are only obeying the orders of traitorous lords. They don't deserve to die for that. Besides, a number of captured soldiers had fought exceedingly well – there was always the need for good soldiers to man the city garrisons.
"Your Grace." To Orys's consternation, it was Willas Tyrell who limped out to the gate to meet him. "The Red Keep is yours."
"It has always been His Grace's," said Lord Redfort indignantly. "You and your traitorous kin are in no position to negotiate."
The heir of Highgarden managed the weakest of smiles. "We're not negotiating, my lord Redfort. If you come in, you will see that all of us are prisoners. The only reason I was sent out here is because Ser Andar Royce and Lord Lannister agree that I cannot possibly run or escape." He gestured to his bad leg. "I am also your good-brother," he added nervously. "My grandmother had negotiated with both Ser Andar and Lord Lannister and part of their pact included my House betraying Aegon Targaryen. When the Royce and Lannister men besieged the castle, we did naught to stop them. Helped them into the castle even."
"Why should we trust you?" said Orys suspiciously. "Your sister is married to the false Targaryen. Your House aided him up to this point. Why the change? You must know that this story of yours is…questionable."
Willas frowned. "You didn't set the terms?"
Orys turned to Lord Redfort. "Lord Redfort, I hereby place you in charge of the Lord Willas Tyrell. If he attempts to escape, you are permitted to wound him and clap him in irons. I want him alive though." Leaving Willas with Lord Redfort and a cluster of valemen, Orys walked inside the castle, sword in hand. There was no Tyrell or Dornish soldier in sight.
Odd.
Questions clouded Orys's mind as he glanced around, spotting Lannister men, common soldiers and…sellswords? What were sellswords doing here? He waved at one with black hair. "You!"
The sellsword turned around.
"Steffon?" Orys halted, staring at his cousin in amazement. "By the Seven! Why are you here? In sellsword armour too!"
Steffon broke into a grin. "Orys! You broke the siege! Come! We have secured all the Tyrell and Dornish hostages for you!" He gestured for Orys and his men to follow him into the Great Hall. Pleased at the outcome, Orys went with his cousin, wondering what he was doing there. Surely Steffon should be hiding in the Eyrie with Cassana, Ormund and Minisa?
"Your Grace," said Steffon proudly, as two guards opened the Great Hall's oak-and-iron doors. "May I present to you, the false Targaryen?"
At the foot of the Iron Throne's dais and surrounded by a dozen guards and in chains, stood Aegon Targaryen, the false dragon and usurper.
Orys could not resist a smile of relief. "That is indeed a surprise, Cousin. Which lord or knight captured him?"
"He surrendered." Lord Royce's heir Ser Andar, strode up to Orys. "With Lord Lannister's men – and mine – blocking him from the front and Reach men behind, slaughtering his men, he did not have much choice. Here he is, Your Grace, as one of your prisoners." He smiled, before looking serious again. "He is not the last of the Targaryens," he said, almost hesitantly. "I do not know if you heard, but…his wife, Lady Margaery, is with child. His child. I saw her swollen belly with my own eyes, Your Grace. The pretender will die, I understand, but what of his babe?"
The relieved smile disappeared from Orys's face. "You must be jesting, Ser. An unborn Targaryen?"
Ser Andar looked apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm not jesting, my king."
"Orys? Robb?"
Orys spun around. Lyarra! He took a step forward; Robb had already ran up to her and embraced her fiercely. Orys waited patiently. Lyarra was Robb's sister – they deserved a long moment alone together. Once they broke apart, with Lyarra reassuring her brother that she was still well, Orys met her gaze.
"Lyarra," murmured Orys, striding towards her. He hesitated briefly before he followed Robb's lead and embraced her. "I'm so pleased you are alive," he said to her softly. "I feared the worst. I thought the false dragon would kill you."
"Many people wanted me dead," Lyarra said quietly, pulling away. One of her hands swept over her stomach. "Many wanted our unborn baby dead too. Aegon Targaryen did not want me killed at first. It was only when he received word that you were at King's Landing's doorstep that he began considering killing me, your mother and the other hostages."
"I won't leave you alone again," Orys promised, tentatively squeezing her hand. "You will never be a hostage. I promise."
Lyarra smiled. "I missed you," she confessed, her cheeks tinged with pink. "It's the truth. I prayed you'll return…I hoped our future child will see you."
"I will try better. I know my late father forced us to wed, my lady, to mend the damage Robb's marriage to Daenerys Sand caused. I know we didn't spend much time together apart from our daily walks and meals. I want our marriage to work. I want to hear your thoughts about state matters, and I hope our future children will grow in a loving household."
"You wish to hear my thoughts on state matters?" Lyarra sounded doubtful. "I thought southron-"
"Come to the council meeting with me," interrupted Orys on impulse. "We will have a meeting in an hour where we'll discuss what to do with the traitors. Lords who participated in this war will all have a say. I want you present as my queen." He smiled shyly at his wife, who smiled back. "I want all the lords to know you're a capable woman. An accomplished lady who can rule as regent if I'm needed in a war, or if I die unexpectedly. I did a lot of thinking," he explained, as his lady wife looked confused. "I want us to trust each other." He extended his hand. "My lady, will you care to accompany me to the council meeting?"
When Orys returned to the Great Hall with Lyarra at his side, he noted that the Great Hall was completely crowded. It seemed word had spread that the traitors would be sentenced today.
Orys sat as comfortably as he could on the Iron Throne. Lyarra was seated on a cushioned chair beside him and five of the six knights of the Kingsguard stood as still as statues at the bottom of the Iron Throne. The most influential lords of the realm – Uncles Stannis and Edmure, Lord Royce, Lord Redfort, Robb, Theon, Lord Mallister, Lord Lannister and many others – marched into the Great Hall to the front. Behind them came a flood of prisoners in chains, surrounded by over a dozen guards from all over Westeros.
The ladies on the gallery craned their heads to see the prisoners; lords and the knights present pushed each other to have a better look at them. Everyone was whispering or chatting excitedly to the people closest to them.
As Orys waited for the courtiers to quieten down, he thought about what he'd say. Everything that was to occur in the next hour had already been confirmed in the meeting earlier. There had been a few disagreements, but the fate of Houses Tyrell and Martell were made in unanimous agreement.
"My lords and ladies," Orys said loudly. "It is the king's duty to reward those of great loyalty, and punish those who have chosen to rebel." He gazed sternly at all the prisoners, some of whom are women and children. "We will start with House Martell and their bannermen." The Red Viper looked up and stared boldly at him. Orys ignored him. Prince Oberyn Martell was swift with the spear; it took around four to five soldiers to capture him.
"You were one of the leaders in this rebellion, Prince Oberyn," said Orys, his eyes fixed on Prince Oberyn's. "You and your brother, the late Prince Doran. You swore allegiance to my late father yet you plotted to bring an Essosi person here and declare him your nephew. What did my House do to yours to deserve this my prince? Did you want Westeros to plunge into war?"
"He is my nephew!" said Oberyn Martell sharply. "He is Elia's son and the true king. Your father usurped the Iron Throne and failed to give us what he promised. Where is the Mountain's head? Amory Lorch's? Do you think the bones of my late uncle Ser Lewyn will be enough? All of Dorne thirsted for vengeance, Your Grace. We had an opportunity…and we took it." He grimaced. "War is not pleasant, but it was to be expected."
"You gambled Prince Oberyn, and lost." Orys took a deep breath and went on steadily. "For your acts of treason against the crown, you will take the black." It'd be better for the Red Viper to be executed, but the northern lords insisted that it would be the Wall for the Red Viper – the Night's Watch lacked men as it was. "A black brother will come tomorrow morning. You will depart with him. Your older daughter Obara Sand, killed many men in this war, one of whom was Lord Tytos Blackwood. For killing a noble lord, she is sentenced to death." He ignored Obara Sand's harsh curse. "As for Nymeria Sand, she will be sent to the silent sisters for her actions in the war. Prince Oberyn, your paramour Ellaria Sand will return to Dorne immediately where she will remain permanently.
"As for the remaining members of House Martell, there will be no more deaths. Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell will come here to swear fealty – if she refuses to, House Martell will be no more. Accompanying her will be her brother Prince Trystane, who will remain here as my honoured guest for a period of no less than a year. Though many of my councillors are against it, I will forgive House Martell just this once." Orys paused as shocked whispers echoed in the Great Hall. "They have been denied justice, which I will give. Sers Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch will be executed and their bodies sent to Princess Arianne for her to do as fit. We will have peace," he repeated, staring at an astonished Prince Oberyn boldly. "By giving you justice that you have craved for so long, there will be no more enmity between Houses Baratheon and Martell. If I hear even a whisper of treachery or disloyalty from Dorne, there will be no forgiveness. You will feel our fury."
Allowing the ominous warning to sink in, Orys dismissed the Martell prisoners with a wave of his hand. "All other Dornish lords and ladies will swear fealty and return to Dorne," he announced, "on the condition that upon their return, they'll send one of their children or grandchildren to King's Landing where they will be sent to either the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands or Westerlands where they will serve as squire, page, cupbearer or ward for at least six months." It was a fair punishment – it might even bring about better relations.
Again, Orys dismissed the Dornish prisoners. He turned his attention to those who remained – the Tyrells and their bannermen.
"House Tyrell has no loyalty," Orys said harshly.
"Your Grace," started the bumbling Lord Tyrell. "I must protest-"
"You swore fealty to me," Orys interrupted, his expression icy. "Your heir had even wedded my sister, the Princess Lyanna, and your daughter Lady Margaery my uncle, the late Lord Renly Baratheon. Did that not unite our Houses enough?" He didn't wait for a stuttering response. "Instead you betrayed me, my House, all of Westeros, and poisoned both my father and my uncle Lord Renly! You took my pregnant sister Lyanna, my pregnant wife the queen, and my mother as hostages among others. All in the name of a false Targaryen! For what? A chance for Tyrell blood to one day run through the veins of a future king? Perhaps it was all for the Lady Margaery to be queen?" Anger rushed through Orys's heart. "If that was not treasonous enough, you chose to betray the man you put on the throne when you knew you lost the war! House Tyrell has no ounce of loyalty!"
"If it wasn't for us, you would still be fighting in a war," said the Lady Olenna, who had not lost her sharp tongue in a brief spell of captivity.
"You chose to be turncoats," Uncle Stannis spoke coldly. "You claimed it would be for the safe release of your good-son Ser Jon Fossoway and the oath that your daughter and son at Dragonstone will remain alive. I suspect it was more to hope House Tyrell will remain in power after the war."
"A lie!" blustered Lord Tyrell.
"If it wasn't for you, there wouldn't have been a war," said Orys, his blue eyes blazing with anger. "For all your declarations of loyalty, you switched sides faster than a sellsword to sell your daughter to the false dragon! House Tyrell has been forgiven numerous times in the past – no more." His fingers curled into a fist. He glanced at an expressionless Lyarra, and his fury towards the Tyrells augmented. Though the Martells seemed unlikely to want Lyarra or the babe in her womb to be killed, the Tyrells would not hesitate. They poisoned Uncle Renly only for the Lady Margaery to be widowed and married off to a false king. If Margaery Tyrell had borne a child, it would have ended Lyarra's life. What was the murder of an unborn child to the Tyrells? A convenient way to remove a rival.
"House Tyrell will pay reparations to King's Landing through a discussed sum of gold and monthly instalments of grain," Orys announced. "Lady Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell will also remain at court as…honoured guests until it is deemed a suitable time for them to leave." He could not resist a contemptuous smile as he saw relief in the Fat Flower of Highgarden's eyes. He was not finished with House Tyrell's punishment. "I hereby strip House Tyrell of its titles Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South and half its gold. House Tyrell will retain Highgarden, but their place as the liege lords of the Reach will transfer to House Hightower." His smile widened as Mace Tyrell spluttered with indignation. "Though House Hightower remained impartial during the war, Lord Hightower had sent his granddaughter, the Lady Chalysse, and his grandson Lord Gerold to Riverrun, proving himself and House Hightower to be loyal to House Baratheon."
"The Hightowers!" The Fat Flower looked ill, despite the fact that his own lady wife was one of Lord Hightower's daughters. "Impossible!"
Orys, was still not done with extracting retribution to the Tyrells. "You will be stripped of your rights as Lord of Highgarden and sent to the Wall, Mace Tyrell," he ordered, "as will a quarter of male Tyrells that are of age. As I am merciful, I'll give you and your family the chance to choose who'll join the Night's Watch. You have until tomorrow morning." It was quite fortunate that the majority of Tyrells were already at King's Landing as prisoners. "For her scheming, Lady Olenna will be executed. The Tyrell ladies of marriageable age will serve my wife, the queen, or my mother, the queen mother. House Tyrell will also provide two wards to me, two to Lord Hightower and two to Lord Lannister.
"Maester Gormon will return to the Citadel and for his part, Willas Tyrell will no longer be heir apparent of Highgarden." Orys looked at Willas, who seemed to be resigned to his fate already. "You can choose to either become a maester or be a septon. Either way, by tomorrow afternoon, you will be on your way to a septry or the Citadel. Your position as heir apparent of Highgarden will transfer to your unborn child. Once the Princess Lyanna bears your child, he or she will be named the Lord or Lady of Highgarden." He stood up. "You are all dismissed. Court will resume after our midday meal."
Exhausted, but feeling exultant, Orys descended the narrow steps and offered his hand to Lyarra. "Care for a walk, my lady?"
Lyarra smiled weakly. "I cannot walk far, Orys. Our child has been kicking for a while now. He or she is very eager to come out."
"Perhaps a brief walk in the gardens then? I wish to breathe in fresh air before the luncheon which will be followed by a long court session. If you would prefer to rest, then I am happy to escort you to your chambers."
Lyarra shook her head. "A brief walk will be good." She took his hand and they slowly walked out of the Great Hall. Orys glanced at her discreetly. Silence wasn't unusual for Lyarra. She did look paler though, and much more tired. Was it from the stress of being a prisoner to the false dragon or was it a normal symptom of pregnancy? Orys made a note to discuss Lyarra's condition with his mother. His mother would surely know.
Exiting the door to the gardens with Lyarra at his side, Orys felt the presence of people behind him. He glanced back and grinned. Hoster Blackwood, Radford Rykker, Ser Hendry Bracken, Jared Buckwell and Arthur Estermont. It'd felt like the old days before the war when he would walk in the gardens, surrounded by a circle of close friends. His smile faltered and sadness seeped in. There were many missing amongst the company. Cousin Steffon was squiring for Ser Andar Royce; Cousin Hoster was currently Castellan of the Dun Fort; and Gerold Hightower the squire of Uncle Edmure. Orys knew he would see them again. Poor Cley Cerwyn had been severely injured in the war and the maesters were certain he wouldn't live much longer. Edmund Blackwood was already dead, killed alongside a few of his father's squires and his father.
There had been many other deaths; so many good men to be honoured. There were many men that'd died forgotten. I will find out their names, Orys promised. They will not die nameless, forgotten and unhonoured. It would not be an easy task, but it will be done – even if it takes half a dozen years.
"Have you thought of baby names yet, Your Grace?" Jared asked.
Orys shook his head. He hadn't had the time to discuss baby names. "I'd hoped to honour some of those who died for us," he said tentatively, glancing at Lyarra, who was listening intently. "Not every single person of course, but a few that are close to us. Perhaps honour those brave and loyal to us as well." The Vale knights did not hesitate in offering aid; neither did the northern lords. Many of them had been skilled warriors too. "Mayhap if the Seven bless us with many children, we can honour many family members too."
"The greatest warriors will be good," Lyarra said thoughtfully. "If we name all our children after the greatest warriors, perhaps it'll lead them to bright futures." She hesitated. "I'd hoped to name one of our daughters Jocelyn though. It's both a Stark name and a Baratheon name. What better name to show unity between the North, Crownlands and Stormlands? I also wanted to name a daughter after your mother. She was so brave here and a great comfort to me."
"We will have many daughters," Orys assured her as he squeezed her hand. "I am happy for our firstborn daughter to be called Jocelyn."
"Thank you." Lyarra paused again. "What do we do about Margaery's unborn child when she or he is born? It is cruel to take the child away from the mother I know, but the babe is the Targaryen pretender's child."
"We will think about it when the time comes." They had months, at least four, if not more. That was plenty of time to decide the fate of the Targaryen pretender and Margaery Tyrell's soon-to-be born child.
Hi everyone, it's been quite some time since the last chapter was updated. In the last few months of 2018, there were a few family tragedies and my health wasn't the best. It was just pretty much a bad ending to the year and I had no motivation to write anything.
On the bright side, I feel like my interest in A Song of Ice and Fire has rekindled this year, as has my interest in writing. I'm hoping there will be weekly updates from now until the end of the story - around 5 more chapters to go :)
