Beron III

King's Landing, 297 AC

The Red Keep

"All men know me for the trueborn son of King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, by his wife and queen Cersei of House Lannister. I declare upon the honour of my parents' Houses that the one currently sitting the Iron Throne is nothing more than an imposter born of the Blackfyre line, secretely put in my place right after my birth, while I was brought to far Essos by conspirators. Against all their hopes, I survived and learned of my heritage. Therefore, by right of birth and blood, I do this day demand that the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros be given back to me, and give the imposter and his cronies a fortnight to reconsider their actions and surrender peacefully. Let all true men declare their loyalty. Done in the sight of gods and men, under the sign and seal of Aegon of House Targaryen, the Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The Grand Maester stopped reading, and for a while silence fell on the chamber of the Small Council.

Beron took a brief look around, and couldn't help but notice how almost everyone wore the same expression of shock and disbelief. From King Aegon to the knights of the Kingsguard, they were all looking at Pycelle as if he had just sprouted a third arm out of his arse. Except for Lord Varys, who merely raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained impassive. He wasn't a real lord, the title being just a courtesy awarded to him. But he was a competent Master of Whispers, and had faithfully served the royal family since the early years of King Rhaegar's reign.

"What in seven hells is this?!" screamed Queen Cersei from her son's right, seething with rage. She was still wearing the black dress she had donned after King Rhaegar's death. It was plain for anyone to see that she truly missed her beloved husband. Her mourning would last long. "Is it some kind of sick joke?" King Aegon looked worriedly at his mother's outburst. He must have never seen her like that.

"Your Grace, the letter arrived this morning from Stag's Den. The local maester sent it soon after reading it."

"Where is Stag's Den, Grand Maester?" asked King Aegon. The young king had Targaryen eyes, but the rest was all Lannister.

"In the Stormlands, Your Grace, on Cape Wrath. Its lord is Stannis Baratheon, younger brother to the lord of Storm's End." answered the old man. "He is known as a serious and honest man. The possibilities of this being a cruel joke on his part are nonexistent."

The king nodded at Pycelle's words. "Then, what could it mean?"

"It must be the Blackfyres." said Ser Oswell. The new Lord Commander rested his hands on the table and grit his teeth. "Some of those vermins must have survived to this day." Ser Barristan Selmy had slain the last Blackfyre pretender in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. At least, that was what everybody thought. Beron had always suspected that at least one or two women from that accursed family had survived in hiding.

"If that is the case, why this...this folly?" Beron's father asked. "Do they really expect someone to believe it?"

"It is entirely possible that they have finally gone insane from desperation, after decades of plotting." surmised Lord Varys. "Henceforth, this letter."

"That must be the case, indeed." Lord Tywin agreed. "They must be desperate."

"Be it as it may be, we can't let this stand!" said the queen. "This imposter must be crushed like the vermin he is!" She squeezed her son's hand, and he looked embarrassed by the gesture. No doubt he didn't want to look like a frightened child who constantly needed his mother's reassurance that everything would be alright.

"Do we know anything about this imposter's whereabouts, or his forces?" Lord Tywin asked to Pycelle.

"The maester of Stag's Den mentioned a messanger coming from north-east. That must be where the imposter is. We must also assume that he has at the very least a few soldiers at his disposal."

"We must dispatch troops immediately!" The queen seemed to be getting angrier by the minute.

"Lord Stannis must have already taken adequate measures." said Pycelle. "And his brother is sure to follow suit. Soon, the might of the Stormlands will be upon this imposter."

"Nevertheless, we must do the same. We need to call all the banners of the Crownlands, and warn the nearby areas. As of yet, we don't know how many soldiers are currently with this imposter, or if more will come." the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said. "Lord Varys, do you have any spies in the southern Stormlands?"

"My little birds are everywhere, Ser Oswell." calmly answered the eunuch. Beron wondered how he managed to always stay calm. Must have something to do with not having balls.

"If they haven't sent me any information so far, they will surely do so..."

A knock at the door interrupted Lord Varys. Beron, being the closest, was sent to open it.

He found Ser Loras with a small parchment in his hand. "They told me to bring it to Pycelle." Beron let the young boy in, and soon after he handed the letter over to the Grand Maester.

"What is it, Grand Maester?" asked the king curiously.

"It must be something important, my king. Let me see..." The old man took a few moments to read the letter, and Beron saw his eyes widening. What was it, now?

"It's...it's a letter from Pyke, Your Grace. It would seem that a civil war just broke out on the Iron Islands..."

AN: Remember when I mentioned "two short but bloody wars"? Well, here they are! Stay tuned for the next chapter!