Chapter 5 – The 20th day of March, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
The septon bleated on for half an hour, about vengeful gods and vile curses and tortures beyond all comprehension.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or no, by the sermon's end all Jaime could think about was how badly he needed to piss.
The Great Sept at Lannisport was not quite the equal of Baelor's fallen temple, or the Starry Sept at Oldtown, but five hundred people had managed to cram inside its seven walls. It could at least stake a claim at being the most opulent place of worship in the Seven Kingdoms. The statues of the seven had gemstones for eyes and woven strands of gold for hair. Even the Stranger was blonde here, while the Father and Smith sported gleaming silver beards. No doubt such decorations had been a gift from his ancestors, from whatever Lannister king had erected the current sept half a century before Aegon's conquest, Lancel V maybe. Maester Creylen would know, or Tyrion, wherever he was now.
The High Septon was a thousand leagues away in Oldtown, but several members of the Most Devout had hazarded the journey by ship to arrive in time for the coronation. The honour fell to Septon Eldron to plant the crown ever so gently on Myrcella's delicate head. Trumpets blew. Septons and septas professed their faith, and there was cheering from the galleries as the first lords and ladies came forth to pledge her their swords.
The first pair to kneel were not from the Westerlands at all however. It had been an arduous journey, but Ser Garth Hightower, whom the singers called Greysteel had arrived two days earlier. Beside him was Willem Costayne, heir to Three Towers. Both were knights of repute, and known to be unshakable in their faith. One after the other they said their vows, and it fell to Jaime to present their white cloaks. And then there were five.
If the crown made her look small, the throne Myrcella occupied made the sight comical. A gilded monstrosity that had been buried deep in the vaults of Casterly Rock since Loren knelt to Aegon. His father had ordered it moved down from the Golden Gallery for the occasion. At least it looked more comfortable than the seat of the Targaryens. Some had begun referring to Myrcella as the new Queen of the Rock. There was precedent. There had been a handful through the ages, though none in some five hundred years. The point was moot, however. Myrcella did not just claim to be the lady of the Westerlands, but of the other six kingdoms beyond.
They beheld the Queen on the Golden Throne.
Her voice was small and high in pitch, struggling to carry over the crowd even after the City Watch had called for order with the butts of their spears. A child's voice, but still one grown men were compelled to obey. When she called on her loyal bannermen to come forth for oaths of fealty, they came in their droves.
The rest of House Lannister came first. Jaime's uncles Kevan, Stafford and Damon, his cousins Martyn, Daven and Damion, and dozens of other relatives too numerous to count. The Lannisport Lannisters, kin to those in the Rock, came next. Over a score of blonde-haired lords and ladies. He recognized the parents of Rosamund Lannister, along with three brothers and a sister, who knelt before their liege, stony faced with resolve. Then there were Crakehalls and Stackspears, Presters, Kennings and Farmans. Marbrand, Westerling and Banefort, Brax, Serrett and Lydden. If Jaime did not know all the faces, he knew their sigils well enough.
When the Westerlands were done the flow slowed to a trickle. Lord Renfred Rykker and his retinue of knights, a long way from Duskendale. A few lordlings of the Reach, having made the trip from Oldtown. Ser Galladon Graceford and a dozen of his Warrior's Sons. A handful of pious knights from the Riverlands, looking somewhat out of place.
The rest of Myrcella's realm had ignored the call. Ravens had been sent to Pyke, Lordsport and Harlaw, but no Ironborn longships had appeared in the harbor. The scouts reported Edmure Tully and Robb Stark massing their strength once again around Riverun, no doubt preparing to march against the Golden Tooth, to repay the devastation Jaime himself was in large part responsible for inflicting. Lord Bolton's army continued to lay siege to Harrenhal. The Tyrells had thrown their lot in with Stannis, betrothing their crippled flower to his grey princess. The Dornish, last they heard, were riding for King's Landing, and no one knew the intentions of Lady Arryn in the Vale.
Is this what a winning side looks like? Jaime couldn't help but wonder, but he kept all doubts to himself.
There were other dignitaries however. Not from beyond the Stranger's Ring of course, but the Narrow Sea at least. A handful of magisters and other delegates from the Free Cities had sailed all the way to Lannisport for the coronation. He recognized the garb of Lys and Myr and Tyrosh, three cities that were usually at each other's throats. Last they heard the fighting in the disputed lands had stopped, no doubt prompted by the incredible news coming from around King's Landing. No less a dignitary than the archon's brother had come, a thin, green-bearded man named Jollo Mallorys.
Eventually, when a thousand bended knees had again straightened, Myrcella spoke once more.
"Due to my youth, and the absence of my mother, the queen regent, I invite my grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West and Foe of the Stranger, to assume his duties as the Queen's Hand."
Myrcella stood, moving slowly to keep the heavy crown balanced on her skinny neck. Jaime watched as she departed via the rear of the hall, accompanied by her septa, his aunt Genna and a small host of ladies in waiting. In her place came the real lord of the Golden Throne. Tywin sat, and considered them all a moment.
"In these perilous times, with the council of the usurper, the dark lord Stannis Baratheon, having fallen under the Stranger's influence, her grace wishes to ensure the continued governance of the realm, by lords and ladies both good and true. Firstly, her grace wishes to appoint Ser Baelor Hightower, son and heir of lord Leyton Hightower, to the role of Master of Laws."
Jaime watched as Brightsmile stepped forth from the galleries, thanked the Lord Hand profusely, and took his seat on the new Small Council table. The rest of the seats were filled just as quickly. Lord Sebaston Farman, of Fair Isle, took his place as the new Master of Ships. His uncle Kevan was made Master of Coin, while his aunt Genna was appointed the new Mistress of Whisperers. The eunuch disappears, and two women step forth to fill his shoes he thought idly. In the absence of Pycelle, the honour of Grand Maester was bestowed on maester Creylen, at least until the citadel could be persuaded to send a replacement.
His father might have stopped there, but it seemed Small Councils were growing larger in this day and age. Septon Eldron, representative of the Most Devout, was called forth and appointed the new Master of Faith. Even Ser Galladon, Grand Captain of the Warrior's Sons, was given a seat. Now we are nine, not an especially holy number. He wondered if his father was deliberately matching Stannis in that regard.
It was with some anticipation that evening that Jaime sat down in the room his father had set aside as the new Small Council chamber, adjacent to the Hall of Heroes. His uncle and aunt sat next to him, with Tywin at the head of the table. The five non-Lannisters, just slightly a majority, were seated opposite. Aside from the nine of them, his father had invited several other guests. Lords Lefford, Lydden, Rykker and Baelish, those who had marched with them all the way from King's Landing, had been assigned their own table. If Littlefinger showed any resentment at being replaced as Master of Coin, none showed on his face.
After Septon Eldron led a prayer to the Father's judgement and the Crone's wisdom, the first Small Council meeting of Myrcella's reign began.
"The dark lord has amassed a formidable alliance" his uncle Kevan began gravely, unrolling an ornate map of the Seven Kingdoms that covered most of the table. "With houses Stark, Tully and Tyrell pledged to him, he will command more than a hundred thousand swords. If it is true the Dornish have joined, that number grows even higher." He spent some time outlining the various Baratheon armies. "I regret to say, my lords, that at present, even the Westerlands and Oldtown combined cannot raise more than half as much" he concluded gravely.
"The vaults of the royal treasury are all but empty" Ser Baelor pointed out immediately. "Ours are not. It is imperative we send envoys to the free cities as soon as we are able. There we can hire tens of thousands of mercenaries to counter his numbers."
"And how are these mercenaries to be transported across the narrow sea?" asked Lord Farman, not unreasonably. "The Royal Fleet is still intact. Stannis must have two hundred ships or more. In Lannisport right now we have twenty-eight. If we summon all our levies, that number might rise to fifty. Ser Baelor tells me Oldtown can muster another forty. That still leaves us at least as outnumbered at sea as we are on land."
"We shall need the Redwyne fleet" Ser Kevan declared. "I am right in saying Lord Paxter has not yet declared for either side?"
"So we have heard" said lady Genna. "The Greyjoys too. Either would have the strength to counter the royal fleet, but without them we shall lack power at sea."
"Stannis will need the royal fleet to besiege the Rock" Lord Tywin spoke up at last. "This will require hundreds of ships, and tens of thousands of men. Even so, the Rock has never fallen to siege or storm. It will take years. While his strength is tied down here, in the west, we can strike in the east, and elsewhere."
There was a general chorus of agreement with this strategy. Jaime felt it was his time to speak up. "I for one do not intend to sit here and let Stannis march up to our doorstep unmolested. The Starks and Tullys are our implacable foes now, the battle on the Gold Road proved that, if nothing else, but the weak link in Stannis' alliance are the Tyrells. Loras was killed by the flying men, and by tying his cause to Stannis Mace Tyrell has lost Oldtown. If we can sway them back, the numbers swing back in our favour."
"Aye, the Tyrells may have been good and true once, but the Stranger has blinded Lord Mace with greed" Ser Galladon said confidently. "A true house of the Reach is needed to rule in Highgarden."
"We all know several houses claim closer blood ties to the Gardener kings than the Tyrells" pointed out Septon Eldron. "Excluding the Florents, there are the Oakhearts, the Rowans, the Tarlys…
"Surely one can be tempted to rebel against their liege and take their rightful seat as Lord Paramount of the Mander?" Littlefinger suggested lightly.
"Not while Mace Tyrell remains strong, my lord" Ser Kevan countered. "We must show superiority on the battlefield first, before any of Highgarden's bannermen will turn against their liege."
"We should strike south then as soon as we are able" Jaime insisted. "If Stannis and Robb Stark come via the Goldroad and the Golden Tooth, the Reach will be vulnerable. We should not just sit here and wait to besieged." He turned to his father. "My lord, give me your leave. I will take all the men we have and march on Highgarden. Once the Rose Lord has lost his seat, his bannermen will fight to replace him. Raise one of them up. Promise them Myrcella's hand if need be."
More enthusiastic murmurs met this speech. His father was looking at him with pursed lips, but for the moment he said nothing.
"Have we considered betrothing Myrcella to Willas instead?" Genna suggested.
"More than anything else, Lord Tyrell wants his grandchild seated on the Iron Throne" Littlefinger agreed. "The exact means by which they get there are, to him I think, quite flexible."
"We must find a suitable consort for Myrcella in time" Lord Tywin finally acknowledged. "Someone of the Great Houses preferably, of course. Let us consider Baratheon, Stark and Tully excluded. If not Willas, the Martells might be the next best option."
"If they have already declared for Stannis…" Ser Baelor cautioned.
"He can offer them a council seat and a few other trinkets" Tywin said dismissively. "We can make Quentyn or Trystane the next king of the seven kingdoms. If they refuse us, there are other possibilities. A Hightower, certainly" he said, nodding at Ser Baelor "or another house, to be raised up in the Reach and given Highgarden. Even Theon Greyjoy might serve, if it would deliver us his father's ships, or Robin Arryn."
"Robin Arryn is close to Myrcella in age, but a sickly little boy I'm afraid" Littlefinger said, sounding apologetic. "He would not make a strong consort, but there is no need to consider such a betrothal, my lords, I can deliver the Vale of Arryn to you myself."
There were some noises of disbelief around the table, but Lord Tywin raised a hand to silence them. "What do you propose, Lord Baelish?" he said with great sincerity.
"Have you still such doubts, my lords…my lady?" Littlefinger asked, hands spread wide. "I already delivered to you your queen, what is the Vale and thirty thousand swords next to that?" He flashed them all a confident smile. "As it so happens, the lady Arryn has always been quite positively disposed to me, and now that I am a lord of suitable stature…"
The last part was true at least. With the expulsion of House Whent, Tywin had raised Petyr Baelish to lord of Harrenhal. Likely it was a hollow honour. Baring the Father's own intervention, the castle would soon fall back into the hands of their enemies, and Lord Baelish would become just another pretender. Still, if it served its purpose until then.
"…give me your leave, my lords, and I shall take ship for Gulltown this very night" Littlefinger went on. "Once I am at the Eyrie I shall reunite with my dear Lysa, wed her and bed her, and make sure she never declares for Stannis over Myrcella."
"Will the Vale lords be content with this arrangement?" spoke up Lord Rykker, sounding doubtful.
"The Lords of the Vale are a loyal sort, not to mention a pious one" Littlefinger replied. "My father's lands were modest, but within walking distance of our keep one can find the mark of the seven-pointed star, carved into stone when the Andals first crossed from Essos." He flashed a smile at Ser Baelor. "Once I explain to them the new red god Stannis keeps, they will never swear their swords to him. They will pledge themselves to Myrcella, I will make sure of it."
"Thirty thousands swords of the Vale could make all the difference" Ser Baelor acknowledged. "If they come from the east while Stannis marches west, they could take him in the rear, or even take back King's Landing and free the queen regent."
Lord Tywin had been listening to all this in silence. He gave Littlefinger a long, hard stare. The Vale lord did not crack, and even returned the look, an impressive feat. "Done" Lord Tywin concluded finally. "Do this for us Baelish, and your house shall rise even higher. Have sons with Lysa Arryn, and they may even inherit the Vale, or the Riverlands, in time."
Littlefinger gave a triumphant smile. Lord Tywin did not return it. Instead he turned back to his brother. "Kevan, we must send a trusted man to deal with the Free cities. I would have that man be you."
Kevan bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, my lord. I will not fail you in this."
"We have sufficient coin for at least twenty thousand mercenaries, I believe. Seek out whatever free companies are available. The Golden Company would be best."
"A company of exiles" lord Rykker pointed out.
"Yes, with many from the Stormlands or the Reach. Some we will no doubt have to promise lands and castles, their historical claims. So be it. We must strip the dark lord's most fervent supporters of their lands anyway, once he is dead. The other thing to decide is where to send you first. From what we hear, the flying men have taken up roost in Braavos, and now Pentos as well. Lys is a possibility. I believe Ser Baelor's sister is there" he glanced at the Master of Laws, who gave a tiny nod "but I think the best option is still Tyrosh." He turned to one of his squires, standing silently against the wall. "Send in the magister." The boy rushed off.
A minute later Jollo Mallorys entered the room alone. He bowed deeply to Lord Tywin – a rare gesture from a magister of his stature. His green beard almost brushed the floor. Tywin invited him to sit at the other end of the table.
"Magister Mallorys. We are honoured by your presence tonight, and at my granddaughter's coronation."
"The honour is all mine, lord Tywin, old lion of the Rock" the magister replied, in a common tongue heavy with accent, so high in pitch it was almost girlish. "We have been most troubled by the news from this side of the Narrow Sea. My brother instructed me to sail for Lannisport with all due haste."
Tywin nodded. "Then please, do tell us, what does Tyrosh make of these…flying men from another world?"
"It would seem these men are especially strong in sorcery, my esteemed lords" the magister began, looking around the table. "As strong perhaps as the Freehold of old itself. Valyria tamed dragons, and so took to the skies. These men appear to have made their own, with wings of steel. But how was such a thing done? None can explain it. Even in Braavos, they do not know, but it seems their magic is seductive. The First Sealord himself now has one of these dragons, a sea dragon, one that can extend its claws so that it may swim as well as fly."
There were murmurs of consternation at this report.
"The shadow of the Stranger falls on Braavos" Septon Eldron muttered piously.
"Yes, and on Pentos too" the Magister agreed. "And now on the court of this Stannis Baratheon, and his red witch. None of them are friends to us. Even Lys and Myr have made peace and withdrawn their armies back to their cities. A Braavos with steel dragons? It threatens all of Essos, as this dark lord Stannis threatens all of Westeros."
There was murmuring among the gathered lords. Tywin was looking at the Magister over steepled fingers. "I quite agree, magister" he said finally. "This…the Stranger's Ring opened up in Westeros. Not only has Stannis Baratheon attempted to usurp the crown, but now he has lain himself prostrate before these invaders from another world. He has granted them entry and in so doing let himself become their puppet. He must first be defeated. Only a united Westeros, and I daresay one combined with the Free Cities as well, can hope to resist them. Once Queen Myrcella comes into her throne, she will not be so easily cowed. We must insist that these men leave and not return."
Insanity Jaime thought privately. Stannis they could fight, and defeat, but how was his father to make good on that final promise? He bid his tongue however. The Magister looked pleased.
"Yes, my lord. Very good. They must go back through this Ring and it must be closed, by whatever means. I have heard the flying men claim they did not open it themselves, but how can we trust anything they say? There must be a way. We must close it, and defeat all those who have fallen under their influence."
"It is clear that Braavos threatens you, as Stannis threatens us here. So I must ask, does Tyrosh simply mean to sit and wait until fire and steel rain down on your city from above?"
The magister almost looked offended. "Of course not, my lord. We are still the blood of old ValyrIa. When our city is threatened, we do not sit there and wait to be attacked. If necessary, we will sail north, while the Myrmen will march on land. Envoys have also been sent east, to Volantis, Norvos, Qohor, and even seeking out the Dothraki. We will sell our own daughters before we see ourselves bound and shackled before the First Sealord" he spat.
Tywin nodded. "As any man of honour would. My only concern then, magister. If you are to attack in Essos, will we be able to hire men sufficient to aid us here, in Westeros?"
Magister Mallorys gave a sort of shrug. "There are a lot of mercenaries in Essos. I am sure there will be men to spare. If you lack ships, I am told to say we can transport them over the Narrow Sea, without payment, in the name of our alliance."
"Very good, magister" Tywin said, looking relieved.
"Pardon, my lords" Lord Farman spoke up. "But if it is true the flying men have given some of their machines, these metal dragons, to the First Sealord as well as Stannis…how are we to fight them?" he asked, not unreasonably.
It was Ser Kevan who replied. "The Targaryens conquered Westeros with dragons, but later events proved that even they were not invincible. Dragons can still be shot down, if men good and true are holding the bow."
"But are not these flying machines creations of metal and glass?" Lord Farman countered, sounding doubtful. "Steel can pierce flesh, but what can piece steel?"
For a moment, no one seemed to have an answer.
"The Warrior will lend us his strength, when it is needed against these flying machines" Ser Galladon declared piously, seemingly ending all argument.
It was not long after that his father concluded the meeting. "Very well, my lords" Tywin proclaimed. "By our combined efforts Stannis Baratheon, the dark lord, will be defeated, and the realm will be saved." He turned to several of them in turn. "Lord Baelish, you will return to the Vale to wed its lady and deliver its swords for Myrcella. Kevan, go with the magister to Tyrosh, to rally all the men you can and bring them back across the sea. Lord Farman, rally what ships we have, whilst we prepare the Rock for siege, and Jaime…" his father turned to face him. "I quite agree. We cannot simply sit here and let Stannis surround us. Once the fresh recruits are armed and trained as well as we are able, I will send you south. Take Highgarden, and the dark lord's alliance will fall apart."
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Author's notes at this point:
The Small Council of Stannis Baratheon
Hand of the King - Mace Tyrell (Reach)
Grand Maester - Gormon (Reach)
Master of Coin - Adrian Celtigar (Crownlands)
Master of Laws - Alester Florent (Reach)
Master of Ships - Imry Florent (Reach)
Mistress of Whisperers - Melisandre (Asshai by the Shadow)
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard - Barristan Selmy (Stormlands)
Master of Lightning - Oberyn Martell (Dorne)
Master of Flying Machines - Stevron Frey (Riverlands)
Kingsguard - Barristan Selmy & Richard Horpe (Stormlands), Mandon Moore (Vale), Godry Farring (Crownlands), Ser Tallad (Reach), Damon Paege (Riverlands) & Donnel Locke (North)
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The Small Council of Myrcella Baratheon
Hand of the King - Tywin Lannister (Westerlands)
Grand Maester - Creylen (until replaced by the Conclave of the Citadel)
Master of Coin - Kevan Lannister (Westerlands)
Master of Laws - Baelor Hightower (Reach)
Master of Ships - Sebaston Farman (Westerlands)
Mistress of Whisperers - Genna Lannister (Westerlands)
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard - Jaime Lannister (Westerlands)
Master of Faith - Septon Eldron (of the Most Devout)
Grand Captain of the Warrior's Sons - Galladon Graceford (Reach)
Kingsguard - Jaime Lannister, Elwood Marbrand* & Lorent Baneson* (Westerlands), Garth Hightower & Willem Costayne* (Reach)
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*Some new non-canon characters I have added for this story.