It was a gamble more than an actual solid plan. But at this moment there wasn't much that they could do. It had been the first wave, the Night King had been the first wave of all things. When the second wave came, none of them was ready. They had no dragons on their side, while the dead had two now. Even if they had all three they would have been smashed. They needed more dragons, they needed the realm in one piece. They needed the seven united.
Before Bloodraven there was no Three-Eyed Crow, nor was there a Greenseer who the Children of The Forest united with. Finding someone in that time, to prevent something as catastrophic as The Dance was hard work. But they did find one, a young man who was devoted to the Old Gods. The gamble was to not take him over, for The Three-Eyed Crow to live his life while the young man faded. That had too many ramifications, too risky to try. So they sent the memories to him, of what is to come. Of the Dance, the Blackfyre Rebellion, Robert's Rebellion, the War of the Five Kings, the First War of Winter, and then the Second War of Winter. They gave him all the help he needed, knowledge of fighting the Southern way, and the education needed to survive in the capital. They taught him how to harness and fully utilise his powers, and gave him everything he would need. They left one more thing, a command of sorts. Stop The Dance and save The Dragons at all costs. Bloodraven and Bran had failed. But this time around they would not. Their selected would usher in an era where Winter can be permanently beaten.
"Ser Ryam was a strong Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. But he was ill for some time" the King spoke as wine was poured into his cup. "He passed in peace, I hope."
"Yes, your Grace" Maester Mellos answered, "he was found to have passed gently in his sleep. His remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters. The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Harrold, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam's replacement on the Kingsguard."
"Your Grace, my Lords, the Kingsguard must soon be restored to its full complements of seven. With the help of the Hand, I've invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials."
The doors to the council room flung open and in marched Lord Corlyn Velaryon, looking none too happy. "Four Ships have now been lost. The last one was flying my banner. The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration, yet you sit here and dither about court business."
"If you've something to discuss, Lord Corlys-"
"Lord Corlys" Brynden spoke, a hand stopping the Princess from pouring wine into his chalice, "court business is just as important as any war. If matters of the house are not attended to, how do you expect the matters of the realm to be solved?" the Master of Whispers spoke, watching the Lord of Driftmark's jaw set stubbornly. "But" Brynden turned to the rest of The Council and then The King, "The Triarchy is growing more ambitious every day. They have hiked the prices for trade and have styled themselves rulers of the Narrow Seas. I don't have to get in on how it would disrupt trades and affect our economy, I'm sure Lord Beesbury knows it better than I do and can explain it far better than I can" the Master of Coins shifted in his seat in discomfort. "The Triarchy have made trade and travel through the seas perilous. As Lord Corlys has said, we have lost four ships so far. Soon we'll lose more if the situation goes unattended." He shifted in his seat and straightened, "and word has it that they have plans for Westeros as well, the Seven Kingdoms, in their words, is run by a pacifist who would do them no harm and leave them free to do as they please. They laugh in their tents and toast to King Viserys, the Weakling King. Their words, not mine."
"And how do you know so much, Lord Brynden?" the Hand of the King questioned.
"Knowing things is my trade, Lord Hand. Otherwise, our King wouldn't have installed me in this position" Brynden smiled. Then he turned to Rhaenyra, "I'm sorry Princess, but I think I could do with some of the wine now."
The Princess came forward and poured some wine for him, while Brynden scanned the room. The King looked angry, knuckles growing whiter by the moment. The rest of the Council did not look too happy either, refusing to meet his eyes and looking uncomfortable, especially the Hand of the King. It has been only six months since Brynden was put into the position of Spymaster. The council did not know him, only saw him beat Ser Daemon in the Joust. But once he had whispered secrets to them, secrets about themselves that nobody should know, they grew wary of him. They did not doubt his abilities anymore, now they grew wary about how he could use their secrets against them.
"The best course would be to burn out the Crabfeeder and seize the Stepstones by force" Lord Corlys added, while Brynden sipped his wine.
"A War against the Free Cities would cost us incalculable losses. In all its histories the Seven Kingdoms have not entered into open war against them" Lord Beesbury said.
"These pirates are not the Free Cities" Lord Corlys insisted.
"On the contrary, Lord Corlys" Brynden spoke, his cup of wine drained, "the Free Cities are the ones providing ships and tender to the Crabfeeder and his men. So they are very much the representatives of the free cities, or at least that of Myr, Lys and Tyrosh," he said, before turning to the Master of Coin. "And the reason we have never needed to go into an open war against them is that they have not been bold enough to do it. The Conqueror was formidable, as was Maegor the Cruel and Jaehaerys the Conciliator. They see King Viserys as weak. But that is their blindness" he turned to the King next. "Burning the Crabfeeder out of the Stepstones would be ideal, your grace. We do not need to push any further than that."
"And you have plans for this. I'm assuming" King Viserys asked, frustration in his tone.
"I do" Brynden smiled. "House Velaryon will take part in this war as they are our main allies at sea. The Stormlands will join in as well since they are the closest and haste is of the essence for this. I think that would be enough" he paused. "Add in one more. Ser Daemon Targaryen."
"Ser Daemon has disobeyed his King and seized Dragonstone for himself" Otto Hightower spoke, "what makes you think he would listen here?"
"It would be his proof of the words he spoke to our King" Brynden answered him smoothly. "He claims to love his brother and wants to be at his side to protect him. Then let him prove himself. Send him to war and let him return victorious as proof that he is loyal to his brother. Let him prove his love through action rather than words."
"I have sent envoys to Pentos and Volantis, to find a common cause. But I will inform Lord Boremund to prepare himself for a potential war" the King declared. "And I will summon my brother here, and task him with working alongside you in this conflict. Be it by diplomacy or by force, we will settle The Stepstones in time."
"Your Grace" the Master of Ships inclined his head, before taking a seat in his designated spot. The rest of the Council meeting was about the trivialities of the Court, smaller matters compared to the one from moments before.
"Egging the King into going to war is not something that us in the Council should do," the Hand told the Master of Whispers as they made their way to see the candidates for the open Kingsguard position, Ser Harrold and Princess Rhaenyra in front of them.
"I only spoke the truth, Lord Hand. As I was hired to do" Brynden said easily. It was half a lie. There were things that he embellished and exaggerated on a few more points to push Viserys into action. "Pentos and Volantis might produce favourable results for us and the war could be avoided. But the free cities are not as united as the seven kingdoms. They have their respective leaders, who have their own interests at heart. Much like some men of the Seven Kingdoms, Lords or Highborns who have self-interest at heart over the good of the realm."
"And you? What do you have to gain from all of this?"
"Me? Nothing really, I serve the King because he gave me an opportunity at a better life by giving me a position of honour" Brynden smiled, pausing for a bit. "Sometimes a show of force is necessary over diplomacy."
The two men entered the balcony from which they would look down on the candidates. The two stood to the side while the Princess stepped on a stool to look down on them. Ser Harrold introduced the candidates one after the other. The first was Ser Desmond Caron, Son of Ser Royce Caron. The Princess thanked Ser Desmond for his leal service by bringing the King's justice, at the advice of the hand. Next was Ser Rymun Mallister, Son of Lord Lymond Mallister of Seagard. The Princess questioned whether any of them had combat experience, in a major or minor battle of arms. The name of Ser Criston, Son of the steward of the Lord of Blackhaven came forward. Brynden saw the spark in the Princess' eyes at the name.
"I choose Ser Criston Cole," the Princess said after hearing of the man's experience in combat, stepping off the stool she stood on.
"Let's not be too hasty, Princess" Ser Otto spoke, stepping forward. "There's no doubt Ser Criston is a fine warrior, but houses such as Crakehall and Mallister are important allies of The Crown. Seagard, for instance, is the realm's prime defence against reavers from the Iron Islands."
"Those men are tourney knights" the Princess defended her choice. "My father should be defended by a man who's known real combat. Should he not?"
"He should, Princess" Brynden chose this moment to speak up. "You make valid points, but there's more to this than just plain strength. Politics of the court is something you should be aware of as heir" he advised. "The Lord Hand is right in his assessment. A son of a Lord who serves your father so honestly and dutifully should be rewarded. This is such a reward. It would make it so other lords serve well as well to earn their place of honour at court."
"But-"
"But the Princess is right still" Brynden cut her off. "And there are more ways to protect the King outside the Kingsguard. For example, the City Watch. In the absence of your uncle, it is lacking a good leader and some if not all have gone with him to Dragonstone. This is a good time to elect a capable replacement for him and grow the City Watch."
The decision was made and preparations would be made for Ser Rymun's investiture into the Kingsguard while preparations will also be made to appoint Ser Criston into the City Watch. To Brynden it felt as if it was enough to keep Ser Criston and Princess Rhaenyra away from one another, or if they do end up doing it, there would be no vows to think of.
Brynden and Otto shared a look between them, the Master of Whispers seeing the elated look in the Hand's eyes, albeit subdued. They went their respective ways, with Brynden going to the King's chambers. The Kingsguard on duty knocked on the door and introduced Brynden to the King. He waited for a moment before the doors were opened for him. Brynden entered, to find the King and Lady Alicent.
"I am developing a bad habit of interrupting you, Lady Alicent" the Master of Whispers smiled at the woman, who smiled back shyly and clutched her book to her chest. "If your grace is too busy, I can always return another time," he said to the King.
"No, no it's a good time as any" Viserys smiled. "We'll talk again another time, Alicent. Thank you" the man smiled. Alicent smiled back, bowing her head before walking to leave. She stopped by Brynden, and gave him a gentle goodbye as well before scurrying out. "She seems to be fond of you" the King jested.
"A fleeting emotion I'm sure, your Grace" Brynden smiled. His eyes then drifted to the model scale that the King was working on. "Old Valyria," he said almost in awe. "The capital was built into a Volcano, right? Like Dragonstone?"
"It was" the King smiled, "And the Dragonlords, the highest nobility lived at the volcanic face,"
"Closest to the source of their magic" Brynden finished the sentence for the King. He moved forward and motioned to the piece in the King's hand, "that is the Anogrion, where the blood mages worked their craft."
"You know quite a bit about Valyria, Brynden" the King put the piece down where it should be. "Did you see it in a dream maybe?"
"A dream? No, more of a vision" the Master of Whispers smiled. "Dragon Dreams as you have them is quite similar yet at the same time quite different from the Green Dreams that I have. I can explore those dreams later on, with the assistance of a Weirwood."
"Lucky, you are for that. So many dreams I'd love to revisit. Figure out the meaning of them and try to protect my family" the King lamented.
"It does not do well to dwell on the past, your Grace. Your gods have given you snippets for you to build on, whether you still worship them or not" Brynden smiled.
"My gods? The gods of Old Valyria? The Targaryens have not worshipped them in a long time. To think they'd still send dreams to us even when we've all but forgotten them."
"The Targaryens are the last of the Dragonlords to survive the Doom of Valyria. You are the last vestiges of the blessing your gods have given you. I can only assume that they'd want to help you out in any way they can."
"Like sending you to me?" the King asked.
"I suppose our gods have worked for hand in hand for that" Brynden smiled. His smile fell when he saw the King wince when he tried taking a step. "Your condition worsens your Grace. You should still be treatable. Let me find a cure for you."
"No" the King spoke in his authoritative tone. "No… this is punishment for what I did to Aemma. I made her go through torturous pain, all for an heir" he sounded disgusted with himself the more he spoke. "I deserve this. Enough about me, what have you to report?"
"The Princess has chosen Ser Rymun Mallister for the empty position in the Kingsguard."
"A Mallister. She's made a good choice there."
"She has… in the end. She wanted to pick Ser Criston for the position for his experience in actual combat."
"Not a bad decision. I suppose Otto has a hand in her choosing Ser Rymun then?"
"The Hand suggested and I supported, but the Hand was the one to bring up the political side of the selection" he explained. "Ser Criston she chose instead for the City Watch. To fill in the gap Ser Daemon has left."
"Your call I'm assuming."
"Ser Criston is a capable fighter, I'd say with his Morningstar he could best your brother under the right circumstances. He looks the part for a replacement. The first line of defence must always be strong, your Grace."
The King smiled, taking a seat on his bed. "Anything else? Any plots that I should know of?"
"No plots against your life. But certainly, there are plots all around you. For example, two of your council members are trying to marry their daughters to you."
"Gods be good" the King muttered. "Corlys' daughter is twelve!" he shook his head. "I'm assuming Alicent coming to me has been part of the plan?"
"It has, though she knows little about it. Her father sent her to comfort you so in time when you choose a wife you will feel more inclined to someone you know and have shared moments of privacy over anyone else. Lady Alicent, she's not aware and has been coming here to console you. As she does with Rhaenyra."
"I see" the man muttered. He remained silent for a moment, eyes lowered. "Six months you have served me. You have told me valuable information and keep on supplying more to me. Yet I know very little about you. Is Brynden your real name? Are you really from the North?"
"I look Northern enough, no?" the Master of Whispers said with a chuckle. "Brynden is a name I chose for myself, your Grace, so I can start my name new. I have left my old life behind me."
"And what was this life of yours?" the King asked. "And what was your name before?"
"My name was Brandon, and my mother was a washerwoman" he lied smoothly. In reality, he had forgotten most if not all of his past after the memories, the knowledge and the lessons were given to him. He didn't know how he got them. All he knew was that he was praying when it happened. Surely it was an act of the Old Gods. The name Brynden was swimming at the fore of his brain so he had gone with it. "My mother told me that my father was some wanton little shit that got too drunk and had his way with her. So I suppose I am an unrecognized bastard. I found out later on from her as she was dying that the drunk man was a Lord and I was conceived when they invoked The Right of The First Night on my mother. My mother's husband was killed for trying to stop him. She never got to tell me who exactly it was before death came for her. After she passed away I decided that I wanted to be more than just a washerwoman's son, an unrecognized high bastard. So I travelled a bit and found some Night's Watch men who taught me how to fight. They took pity on me of course, but I was not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I learned most others through sight and hearing. I watched the highborn joust, I listened while people read or the priests and priestesses preached their religion. I even ran into this red-haired Priestess of R'hllor who said I was the incarnate of her god because of my eyes. She taught me how to read and write in the common and Valyrian tongues. She was devoted to her god, which is ironic since she burned to her death when a few Northern men came to oust her from her preaching area and she attacked them."
"You lived quite a colourful life," Viserys said, taking in the lie easily. Whether he believed it or not was another thought for another time. Brynden in reality was a freefolk from what he guessed when he woke beyond The Wall. He knew how to pass the wall undetected and he had done so. On his way down he found weak men with weapons and people that he ambushed and took their gear and money for himself. He had of course bought himself a new set of armour once he was in the capital, with the gold he earned from looting and killing.
"What do you suggest?" the King asked, "Do I take a new wife or remain a widower?"
"In my honest opinion, your Grace? You should focus on your heir now. Find a suitable match for her, and groom her so she knows how to play the politics of Westeros. I'll admit she lacks the awareness at times."
"But" the King waited.
"But, your grandfather has set a precedent. By Valyrian ways, a man or woman could lead. Aegon l ruled the Kingdoms but so did his wives if he wished for it. The Andals on the other hand are a Patriarchal society. Your grandfather has given into that to keep a semblance of peace, when he could have invoked his own Doctrine of Exceptionalism to seat Princess Rhaenys as his heir after his eldest had died. No offence to you, your Grace."
"No, sometimes I wish he had" the King smiled, "maybe then Aemma would..." he shook his head. "Continue, Brynden."
"Your Grace" the Master of Whispers nodded, "in accordance with the precedent set by your grandfather, you should marry and when you have a son, you should name him as heir."
"I see" he muttered. "And what if I remain with Rhaenyra as my heir?"
"Marry him to her, if you do end up with a son. There will be no contests, no fighting about who should be King or Queen, no civil wars."
The King straightened at the mention of a civil war, brows rising as he realized it as well. He buried his face in his hand. "I see. Leave me for now, Brynden. I have much to think about" the man said tiredly.
"Your Grace" Brynden bowed and turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and turned back to face his King. "One more honest opinion, your Grace. Talk to the Princess. You are all she has left in this world, and the world can be a lonely and cruel place" the younger man said before he left.
A few days had passed since Brynden and King Viserys had talked as openly as they had. That is not to say that they had not spoken. Ravens were sent, and summons were sent and answered. Daemon Targaryen, brother to the current King Viserys l Targaryen entered the Throne Room with as much swagger as he had the day he had been banished.
"Your Grace" the rogue Prince bowed, his purple eyes roaming over the faces in the room. His brother was there, and his niece was as well. His Council was present, one of whom made Daemon narrow his eyes. The Kingguard were there as well,s nobody else. "This is quite a welcoming party you've arranged for me."
"The day I banished you" the King spoke, authority in his tone, "you had told me that you loved me, that you wanted to be by my side to protect me."
"That has not changed" the Prince straightened, "I still love you and wish to do the same."
"Then prove yourself loyal to me" the King's words confused him. The Stepstones are slowly descending into a warzone with this Crabfeeder doing his deed. It has now started to affect us. We have tried reaching out to Pentos and Volantis, but have had no response. It means only one thing. Lord Corlys will command the fleets, and Lord Boremund will join him as well. But neither of them are Targaryens, and a Targaryen sits on the Throne as King. I am in no shape for war, sadly. You will lead the forces of the crown in my stead. You will work with Lord Corlys and Lord Boremund, adhere to the plans they set and discuss. Come back to me alive and victorious, brother, and you will find your place at my side. Prove your words are true and prove that I can rely on you. Prove it to me and I will forgive the offence you have tried to cause me and undo a wrong done to you."
"Offense?" the Prince asked, head swarming by what he was being told. He was being asked to fight a war in his brother's stead, and prove his loyalty to him.
"You tried to steal a Dragon's egg in the dark of the night, no?" the King's question made Daemon stiffen. "Though you were unsuccessful in doing so, it is well in my right to punish you for even trying. But I am willing to forgive it if you prove yourself."
"I only want my child to have an egg in the cradle. Like yours had, brother" Ser Daemon said.
"But your mistress can't provide you, children, now can she" the King leaned forward and saw the spark of surprise in his brother's eyes. "She has made sure of that a long time ago I am told."
"What is the wrong done to me you speak of?" Daemon asked, changing the subject now that he knows how much his brother knew.
"Your marriage to Rhea Royce" Viserys' statement made Daemon's head snap up to fully meet his eyes. "I am told that the marriage has yet to be consummated. Your lady wife tells me as much. The Septons have agreed that since there hasn't been a consummation, such a marriage can be set aside. I will allow it. All you have to do is prove to me that doing all of this for you is worth it, that my trust in you doing what is right for the crown and the family is not misplaced."
Daemon went to his knees, head lowered so he didn't have to see the looks from everyone, the mocking looks from the council of leaches. Especially from Otto Hightower. "I will do as you command, my King. I will prove to you that I am loyal to you and that I deserve my place here" the Prince spoke.