Land of the King

Chapter 75: Hail the Falcon Queen

This isn't what I wanted, Rodrick thought as he rode his horse to parley with his niece. All the deaths, the war and the countless more deaths that would come from it. Once more Arnor brings war upon us, he thought bitterly. It was a thought that reverberated throughout the Vale, he knew, the discontent at Arnor putting them through yet another war reaching a boiling point.

And yet, while he cursed Arnor for doing so, he cursed himself just as much. He had failed, he knew. And his failure had cost the lives of his brother and his sons, and now it would cost the life of countless Valemen. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Roland was supposed to be alive, and with him as hostage and going along with Rodrick, Alyssa would have yielded the Eyrie and the Gates of the Moon, and the Vale's road back towards independence could begin, not entirely smoothly, but without issue.

And yet, with the deaths of his brother and nephews in the chaos, all that had gone to ruin. The majority of the Vale had still rallied behind him against Arnor and Alyssa, helped along by the High Septon crowning him as King, and issuing an edict condemning the Concordat of Stars, and deeming the faith of the Arnorians to be a heathen faith, declare those preaching the syncretism between the two to be heretics.

But even with the support of most of the nobility of the Vale, and much of the smallfolk, things were looking grim. He had barely managed to muster an army thirty-five thousand strong in time to face the Arnorian invaders. Opposing him were fifty thousand Arnorians and Valemen commanded by Prince Arahad of Arnor. They couldn't win, he knew. Even if they managed to pull an incredible reversal and defeat this army, Arnor could always summon more.

And yet, while the formalities of battle had to be preserved and parley offered, he knew that there would be no peace now. No peace and no victory in sight. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do, and he would rather die with sword in hand a thousand times over than kneel to Arnor.

"Beloved niece, Prince Arahad, I wish we could have met again in more favorable circumstances," he said with a heavy heart as the Arnorian delegation came into view. The standard of the House of Elendil fluttered in the wind, but Rodrick had never been so reminded of who it was that stood against his dream for a free and independent Vale than when he saw the falcon banners of House Arryn flying beside those of the white tree.

Alyssa had always been his favorite out of his brother's children, her willfulness endearing her to no end to him, especially as it stood in contrast to his brother's weakness. Prince Arahad likewise seemed to be a fine man, someone in another world he could have called his friend. He had no grudge against the man, after all, he had not been responsible for the desolation that the dragons had inflicted nor was he like his ancestors who had foolishly provoked Valyria, and now he was honor bound to follow the cause of his wife.

"Spare us," his niece said, her voice iron. "I did not come here to trade niceties with a usurping kinslayer."

Rodrick sighed. "I did not kill my brother and his family, or order them killed. It was an accident. If you do not believe me, you can see this," he said, handing over the documents he had had Roland sign before he had died, for all the worth they had now.

"There's no point tearing them up either, they've already been seen and witnessed by my supporters. The will of the late King Roland has been made clear."

"Will?" his niece asked sardonically. "A will requires just that, free will. Not coercion at the tip of a sword followed by murder and treachery. Tell me, uncle, is this your shield? Some words forced on my father by you? You came here to parley and offer terms. Very well, what are your terms uncle? If there's any point hearing them that is."

"Leave. Take your Arnorian husband and your Arnorian army and go back to Arnor. All the Valemen who follow you are to lay down their arms and surrender to me. After I have had their oaths of fealty, they will be free to go and I will renegotiate the Vale's relationship with Arnor, on our terms for once."

"Your audacity is outmatched only by your treachery uncle. I am the rightful Queen of the Vale, and if you think some words on a slip of paper taken by coercion or the proclamations of that fat fool that calls himself the High Septon are going to sway me, then you are not only a traitor but a cretin to boot. I will offer you these terms, and I will offer them only once. You've seen the size of my army, you know you will lose. I give you this one opportunity to prevent further bloodshed. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise you your sons will be allowed to join the Watch. Your followers will be allowed to go to their homes in peace, once their lords have surrendered hostages for their future good behavior. And I promise to give you a fair trial," she finished.

"And if I refuse?" Rodrick asked.

Alyssa almost snarled, "Then the parts of your body will adorn the four corners of the Vale."

"So be it then. Tomorrow we shall meet on the field of battle."

With that Rodrick turned his horse and rode back to his army. If it was to be a battle, then he would damn well give them a battle the likes of which had not been seen in Westeros since the Third Dragon War.


In the end, Arahad's forces won. The feared steelbows of Arnor proved their worth once more, cutting the chivalry of the Vale to pieces and breaking their charge, before the knights of Arnor engaged them. Yet even with their superior numbers and far superior support from their infantry and archers, the battle had been heavily fought. What the knights of the Vale had lacked in numbers and support, they had almost made up in fierceness and morale, the Warrior's Sons especially.

Eventually however, the numbers and discipline of Arnor had won out, and when Rodrick the Usurper had died, the forces of the rebels had finally broken. Victory had come at no small cost however, and on the field of battle near as many Arnorians lay dead as rebels.

Their losses were redeemed in some ways the following two days as their cavalry pursued the fleeing enemy, however their own exhaustion and the hard terrain allowed the vast majority of their enemies to slip their pursuit. And so on the third day, Arahad mustered his army and marched on Gulltown.

Besieged by Arahad's army and blockaded by an Arnorian fleet, Gulltown soon surrendered, opening its gates to Alyssa and Arahad. And yet, as they rode through the streets, it wasn't to the cheers a of relieved populace glad to be rid of a usurper that greeted them, but rather cold and reserved looks stares and glares. The Arnorian troops in particular seem to draw bare-faced hostility, with only Alyssa being seen in a good light.

Through all of this, Alyssa said nothing, though he could see the gears in her head moving behind the icy cold facade she showed to the world. And true to his expectations, no sooner had they settled inside the royal castle of Falconrest than Alyssa called for a meeting in the Throne Room.

"Before we begin dealing with the prisoners, my lords," she said to the assembled lords of the Vale that had accompanied them from the Bloody Gates until here. "Are there any matters we should address?"

"If I may be so bold, Your Grace," Lord Belmore's son and heir said, the representative of the strongest of the lords that sided with them, "now that the war is over, can we expect the Arnorian troops to depart home? Already there are mutterings about them foreigners occupying the Vale."

"Those who would say that are the same people that sided with my uncle in his treason. They are men who should be thankful to have their heads attached," Alyssa said icily, the threat clear in her voice. They had of course, discussed it before, and agreed that until she could form a secure powerbase, the soldiers from would have to stay. Especially since all of her uncle's sons had given them the slip, the usurper having sent them to the furthest corners of the Vale to gather reinforcements. "Anything else, my lord?" she asked after a pause.

When no one stirred, Alyssa gave a quick command, and soon the rebel houses were brought before them. Dragged in in chains one by one were the majority of the Lords of the Vale proper. In the northern Vale, several Houses like House Corbray, Coldwater, and Lynderly remained defiant, their leaders and forces still at large, though House Belmore had already been tasked with pacifying them.

However, of the houses in the south, all of Rodrick's supporters that hadn't died on the field of battle had all come to beg for mercy from their queen, either willingly or escorted by Arnorian regiments. As each house begged pardon and desperately tried to explain their treason, Alyssa dealt with them harshly, demanding hostages, reducing their lands, but also treating them fairly and allowing all of them to remain lords, albeit reduced in power so they could no longer be a threat.

However, that would not be so for Lord Waynwood, the highest lord of the rebels in status, and the usurper's strongest supporter save for perhaps, the High Septon himself.

"Lord Waynwood, what a surprise to see you here," Alyssa said, her voice dangerously sweet.

"Your Majesty, I beg clemency and pardon for my mistakes," the lord said, on bended knees and Alyssa's expression darkened even more.

"So it's 'Your Majesty' now is it? It took a long time for you to realize that though, didn't it? I hear from my husband that it was you that led the rearguard and kept it as the last organized force of the rebels, allowing countless traitors to escape. How far have the mighty Waynwoods fallen? In the Third Dragon War the House of Waynwood became famous for the Battle of Ironwood, the last stand of the Vale that allowed my father to retreat and take refuge in the Gates of the Moon. Now a century and a half later, you betray my father and his legacy by supporting his murderer, actively abetting and engaging in acts of treason and helping fellow traitors escape. Then again, you were always supportive of my treacherous uncle weren't you Lord Waynwood?"

"Please, have mercy, Your Grace, I was wrong to support this, I see this now," the man said, tears in his eyes. Yet Arahad knew it was hopeless. As the highest rebel in rank save for the usurper himself, the lord of Ironoaks would need to be made an example, especially due to his part in the initial coup.

"I will give no pardon, nor will I forgive and forget your crimes Lord Waynwood. You committed nothing short of high treason, you've long been an avid friend and supporter of Rodrick and you actively obstructed the efforts of loyalists to bring the rebels to justice. The only reason why you are even here at my feet is because Ironoaks itself came under siege from forces dispatched by my husband."

"No, my lord, there will be no more mercy for you than there was for my brothers. Your house shall be attainted. Your daughters will become Silent Sisters, and your sons will all take the black. As for you Lord Waynwood, you shall be hanged, drawn and quartered."

At the mention of his punishment, Lord Waywnood growled as he rose to his feet and lunged for the Queen but Arahad tackled him swiftly and pinned him to the ground. A part of him couldn't blame him. Dying at the end of a guard's spear was certainly better than what fate had in store for the man. As the guards took Waynwood away, seeming to lose all fear, the disgraced lord shouted at Alyssa with spite in his voice, "You'll never be the true Queen! You can sit that throne, be anointed with the oils and crowned, but the people of the Vale know you for what you are! A foreign puppet!"

"I wonder how talkative you'll be when your balls and bowls are removed, my lord. Take him away," Alyssa rebutted, ordering her guards to take the screaming Lord Waynwood away.

After that, all the members of the royal household that had taken part in the coup were brought forward, and were inevitably sentenced to death by hanging.

Finally, as the hour was growing late, the last and no doubt the most delicate case was brought forth. The High Septon. Unlike the previous prisoners which had been brought forth in chains, the leader of the faithful of the Vale still wore his expensive white cloth and his elaborate crystal crown. With a quick word, Alyssa sent all but her most trusted two guards outside, leaving the two of them and the two guards and the High Septon.

"Your Majesty, it does my old soul good to see that you and your loyal supporters have defeated your kinslaying uncle and reclaimed Gulltown, your father Roland would be very proud of you," the pontiff said, laying it on so thick, that even with the all gloominess of the occasion, or mayhaps due to it, Arahad felt like laughing at the absurdity. Looking at his wife, he could see that her lips were twitching in a way that indicated she wasn't feeling much different. The knowledge brought a wave of affection to him, his wife's dry humor amidst all the suffering having become one of the things he loved about her.

"Funny, I don't recall such feelings from you, Your Holiness, when you anointed and crowned my uncle and called upon all loyal followers of the Seven to rally to his cause. Or when you tore to pieces half a millennium's work to bring Arnor and the Vale together. Or in the years before my marriage when you plotted treason with my uncle just as Lord Waynwood did. My memory is not lacking Your Holiness," Alyssa said scathingly.

"Why then have you ordered your court out to speak to me in private?" the man asked.

"Because Your Holiness, tomorrow you will have had a 'vision' where the Seven reprimanded you for your sins in supporting a kinslayer and you decided that as an act of repentance you would recant your support for Rodrick, anoint and crown me, and retire from your role as High Septon. The Seven will also show you the error of your ways, and you will recant your decree, acknowledge it as heretical, and proclaim all those who do not accept the Concordat of Stars as heretic. Furthermore, you will proclaim that the Seven showed you that from here on now, the Crown shall protect that Faith, and the Faith Militant shall be disbanded. You would then retreat to a monastery to meditate and contemplate your decisions for the rest of your life, living until you die in your sleep at a ripe old age."

The High Septon raised his eyebrow.

"Of course this is only one possible chain of events. Another involves you being officially executed for supporting traitors. Being hung, drawn and quartered is a very unpleasant way to go, I've been told. Lord Waynwood can attest," she finished.

For a while the Queen and High Septon stared at each other before the latter conceded, knowing the cards were not in his hands.

"I understand Your Majesty."


"Why did you deal with the High Septon so leniently?" Arahad asked later after they retreated to their new rooms. Though from how fitful her sleep seemed to be, Arahad judged that the palace still contained too many ghosts for his wife. So instead, they held each other, talking through the night.

"It was the easiest method available to me and though my skin boils at the idea of letting even one of the snakes that backed Rodrick's coup go free, being stripped of his power seems punishment enough for the High Septon. And his decree would smooth things too much for the chance to be allowed to pass. The Faith Militant especially, disbanding it peacefully, even if it's not a certainty, would go a long way towards pacifying the Vale."

"Will you weigh upon the Most Devout to elect a High Septon favorable to you then?"

"I have no intention of allowing the Most Devout to elect a High Septon ever again. After a few decades, they'll get used to the idea of having no High Septon and I will take direct leadership over the Faith of the Seven. It's clear to me that their influence is far too dangerous to allow them to remain independent of the monarch."

"Are you sure about that? Many devout followers of the Faith would not take kindly to overly strong Crown interference in their religion."

"That's why I said in a few decades. For now, we will allow the Faith to exist in a leaderless limbo. We'll only move more firmly once things have settled down and the memories of my uncle's betrayal have begun to fade," she said, though her voice was a little strained at that last part.

"Will they ever fade for you?" he asked.

"No. Or at least, I don't think they will," she said somberly.

"Well, at least that's still some hope left," he said with a small smile, which his wife returned with a small laughter.

"Aye, I guess so," she said smiling, before moving in to hold him tighter. Mayhaps the ghosts would never go away, he thought, but at least they had each other. After that, his wife went back to fitful sleep, with Arahad watching over her.

They were woken in the early hours of the morn by a rap on the door. Quickly, Alyssa gave permission for what turned out to be a messenger to enter. The man quickly bowed, before announcing the tiding urgent enough to bother them at such an hour.

"News from Strongsong, Your Majesty, Your Highness."

"Is Lord Belmore reporting his success against the rebels?" Arahad asked, though in his gut he realized the news couldn't be good.

"I'm afraid not, Prince Arahad. Lord Belmore is dead. The letter is sealed and signed by a man claiming to be Her Majesty's cousin, Ser Artys Arryn, rightful King of the Vale. He claims to have taken Strongsong with the support of several northern houses and they are declaring to… to use their words, 'free the Vale'."

"Give it to me," Alyssa said as she grabbed the letter from the courier, her face becoming colder and colder as she read. Arahad had long since learnt that meant incredible rage.

Arahad carefully took the letter when Alyssa finished reading it, gently grabbing her hand and giving her a squeeze of support, and as he read, he began to understand why she was so angered. The author of the letter claimed to be the eldest son of Rodrick, Alyssa's cousin, Artys. He claimed to have taken Strongsong and all the lands north of it and declared his intent to free the Vale from Alyssa whom he described with less than flattering words.

"Do you think it is actually your cousin?" he asked as the courier was dismissed.

"It's not impossible. We know Rodrick's sons were not accounted for. Still though, to take Strongsong, how much support do they have up there?" she wondered. "How much of a threat are they?"

"It's just a letter. For all we know your cousin is simply boasting to rally support, Lord Belmore may not indeed be dead and they may not have Strongsong," he said, though he wasn't sure he believed it, even if a part of him wanted to, the part that wanted the whole nightmare to end, so that him and Alyssa could finally be at peace, and so that his wife could start moving on from the pain and suffering this war had brought.

"I doubt it is a lie. It would be too easily exposed. If he says he has Strongsong… I believe him… And that makes him a threat. It grants him a powerbase, and a symbol of legitimacy. I know both you and your men fought a hard battle already, but we cannot let this stand," she said firmly, though he saw that the look she threw at him was at least partially questioning, asking for his advice, or mayhaps his permission over what to do with their forces.

Arahad's gaze softened at that, as did most moments when he could see the vulnerability over Alyssa's confident and hard outer shell, "Of course Alyssa. Our forces should be able to march within a few weeks. With any luck, we shall nip this threat in the bud. All the Vale will call you Queen, this I swear."