The reports had made Shireen's head start spinning long ago, by now she was just powering through it. So many numbers. She knew her sums as well as any noble lady, but this went further than that. She'd started with food stores. That had been easy at first, taking her excess supplies, and the requests for extra supplies, both from other castles, from Dragonstone and from her father's army and parcelling them out. Then she'd gotten to requests from two houses in the Rainwood that had suffered no damage in the war and by all accounts had had good harvests, yet still needed weeks if not months of food. So she'd had to go back over her work, check the harvest records from the castles and manors to see who was trying to scrounge extra supplies from her. The stormlands was far from the most fertile region in Westeros, and with House Selmy's lands under threat, they had to be careful with their supplies.
After finally working out a balance between generosity and necessity, she'd moved from food to soldiers and started all over again.
This one had been bothering her for some time. She didn't even know what she was dealing with. She had written to every castle in the Stormlands requesting an update on the number of soldiers they had available to them. Some had been helpful, like House Morrigen, giving an exact update on the number of garrison soldiers, crossbowmen and household knights, both that they had provided to her father already, and those they retained at their castle. Others, like Lord Swann, had provided a list of duties requiring him to keep his soldiers where they were, and no exact figures at all. She'd had half a mind to send a rider out after Richard, to get him to go and find out, he wasn't far from the Swann lands anyway. But no, he needed to be focussed on his duty of hunting down the raiders, she wasn't going to distract him from that.
She pulled her map of the stormlands out from under a pile of letters and records. Most of the lands were untouched, especially now that the Tyrell vanguard had retreated, but they could always return, the army around King's Landing still numbered in the tens of thousands, more than enough to threaten here. She was trying to build defences at Bronzegate and Summerhall. Bronzegate between them and King's Landing. It was supported by several small towns, so many people that needed their protection. So she had sent another hundred soldiers of her own garrison to reinforce the castle, and requested other lords transferred some of their own to it.
Summerhall on the other hand was near the border with the Reach. Lady Sibyll had told her how they had slept in the ruins one night on the way here, it had never been a fortified seat, and in ruins, it was useless as a defence. But now that her father was engaged in war in the Reach, he wanted secure lines of supply and communication, writing to her to assist his efforts. She had diverted some supplies and builders to construct a rudimentary camp there, but to make it a fortified base would need more. She could find more, she had to, somewhere in here.
Cursing she picked up the letter she had been writing to the steward of House Cafferen. It had been a request to send a dozen crossbowmen and four men at arms to Bronzegate, but she crossed the location out and replaced it with Summerhall, adding an addendum as to why before sealing the letter. There was one more option, but she had to be sure first, and for that, she needed Richard.
No, she couldn't think like that. She put the quill down and clutched her fist. She couldn't need him, it was thoughts like that that made her dream of him in ways that she shouldn't. She needed a distraction, who else had soldiers to spare for Summerhall?
She bent back over the reports and letters, pushing aside her wishes for her mother to be here. She wasn't here, she would have to do this alone.
She wasn't sure how much later it was when someone knocked on her door. "Princess, may I enter?"
Thank the gods, a distraction. "Please do, maester," she said, sitting back in her chair.
The maester stuck his head around the door. "My apologies for disturbing you, princess, but the ser Richard has been spotted, he and his men are returning."
She sprang to her feet. "We have to get ready for them." She turned to the mirror on her desk and ran her fingers through her dark locks. "Prepare the stables for their horses, and whatever else needs to be done, see to it."
He bowed his head. "At once, my lady."
Shireen pulled her cloak about her shoulders and hurried from the room.
()()()
"It was a simple matter in the end," Richard told her, arms folded behind his back as he stood before her. "The raiders were little more than robber knights and disgruntled Dornishmen. The numbers were of some concern, the quality, none."
"And, are you injured?" She asked, biting her lip.
He shook his head. "A few bumps and scrapes, nothing more."
That was good, he was alright. "And how many men did we lose?"
"Twenty six."
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight. Twenty six people. Twenty six families who won't see their loved ones again. "We could have lost more," she reminded herself.
"I did what I could to preserve life."
"I know you did," she said. He was a knight, of course he would have. "Still, they died for us. On my order. Do you have their names?"
"Not to mind, Princess."
"Could you find out for me?"
"If you like," Richard said.
"Thank you," she whispered. She would add them to her prayers tonight. "And the other matter?" She asked.
Richard nodded, as calm as before. "I believe they can be trusted, my princess. They served well and I can't doubt their spirit."
She nodded. "Okay then. Good. I have just the task in mind for them." She made to move past him but paused. "Thank you for coming back safely," she said, leaning up and kissing his cheek softly. She smiled when he didn't lean away.
Shireen sat in her father's chair in the great hall, arms resting neatly on the armrests, her back straight, looking down at the men who had deserted the Lannisters and Tyrells to pledge their service to her father's cause. They knelt as one, a square of men, heads bowed to her as though she were a queen. "You may all rise," she said clearly, watching them stand, tall and strong. "Ser Richard informs me that you fought well under his command, proving yourself in my father's name, for which I extend to you my thanks. But this war is not yet over. Our enemies still threaten us, and I mean now to put you to task to stop them." She gestured and the twenty-two deserters were joined by a further nine warriors, young noble squires, trained in arms. She had pulled these men, some of them were more boys, from the exiles from the Reach. Every family had been required to provide one soldier for the defence of Summerhall. Their trained men at arms were all with her father, so these young men were all that was left. "Together with these nine men, you will go from here tomorrow and make for Summerhall. There you will place yourself under the command of ser Tomas Fasche, captain of Summerhall. You will assist him in turning those ruins into a fortified base from which supplies can be shipped to my father and the spoils of war can return to us here." She smiled down at them. "You should all be very proud, you fight in the name of the true king. Now ready yourselves to travel, tomorrow you march for Summerhall."
It had been a long day, first the hours in her solar, then the new orders to the soldiers. She just wanted to curl up in bed close her eyes and forget about it all. But not yet. There was one more thing she had to do. So she and Aeriel were at the top of the drum tower, she was sat in a chair brought up for her, looking out over the sunset coloured sea to the east. She felt bad that Aeriel couldn't sit as well, but for this, her handmaiden had to be her handmaiden. She pulled her cloak tighter about herself, at least it was warm.
The door to the top of the tower opened and her guest joined her. "Princess, are you here?" Lady Sibyll asked.
"Right here, Lady Sibyll," Shireen replied, raising her hand. "Come, please, join me," she gestured to the seat beside her. Sibyll came over, she had wrapped up warm as Shireen advised and sat in the seat that was prepared for her. "Thank you for coming," she said.
"My princess requested my presence, It's my honour," Sibyll smiled and bowed her head. "Was there something you needed from me? I'm here to serve you."
"There is yes, but first, would you like a drink?"
"Only if I would be joining you, princess, it is unbecoming to drink alone."
Shireen smiled. "I could do with one drink, Aerial, if you could please."
Aerial dutifully filled two cups with a deep red wine and brought them to the pair. "Thank you," Shireen squeezed Aeriel's hand affectionately before taking the cup.
Sibyll raised her glass. "To your health."
Shireen raised her own. "My health is irrelevant, to my father's."
"No one's health is irrelevant, princess, but I will certainly drink to the King's." Shireen sipped from the cup, cradling it between her fingers. "There was something you wanted from me?"
"Yes," Shireen said, smacking her lips. It wasn't good that she was coming to like wine this much. "I must profess my ignorance, my lady, I haven't been to the Reach in a long time. I was a child then, accompanying my brother to an archery contest. There is much I do not know about the Reach, I wish you to enlighten me."
"Well, my lady, I can tell you what I know, but if you want to know the histories, I confess my knowledge is limited."
Shireen shook her head. "It's not the history I need to know, it's the current state of the politics there."
"What do you mean, princess?"
Shireen took another sip of wine. "Twice now the Tyrells and most of their bannermen have sided with false kings, so they can say that the next generation of royals has Tyrell blood in their veins. I need to know, who are the most powerful and influential, who must we subvert or bring low when this war is done to ensure that there is peace?"
Sibyll sat back, drinking slowly. "It's a hard question, princess," Sibyll said.
"It's why I need an answer," she replied. The Reach was a problem, it's families split between her father and the Tyrells. At the end of this war some kind of reconciliation would be needed, but at the same time, her father's allies would need to be rewarded. If they took lands from the traitors and gave them to the loyalists, how then would the former traitors ever make peace? Westeros was broken. Perhaps, if the Blackwater had gone their way, there could have been a somewhat clean victory, but the ruin of this war would take years, if not decades to recover from.
"I don't believe there will be peace with the Tyrells in Highgarden," Sibyll said.
Shireen had expected that answer, Sibyll no doubt knew exactly who she wanted in Highgarden, but still, more information. "Why?"
"If they remain in power, what happens to all of us who came to you? We might be safe for a generation, maybe two, but we will have thwarted the ambitions of the Tyrells to be part of the royal house. It's an ambition they've held for gods know how long. They will find a way to punish us, if not through violence, then through some other means."
"My father wouldn't permit that, nor would my brother," Shireen replied.
"And your yet unborn nephews? What if they decide they need the food the Tyrells can provide more than us, for services in a war forgotten."
"How could it be forgotten?"
"Wars are always forgotten. No one who wasn't there ever truly understands."
Shireen shivered. If only people remembered. Then perhaps they wouldn't be so drawn to them. "Well, that won't be a problem," Shireen said. "I cannot say I know my father's mind, but you may rest assured that if I have my say, the Tyrells will not be ruling the Reach when House Baratheon returns to power." Should she have said that? It was true, but was it good politics? "What else. After the Tyrells, who are the next biggest threats to peace?"
"Many houses have married into the Tyrell family, they've been quite the brood these past few generations. House Redwyne, House Hightower, both have marriage links to the last two generations of Tyrells. House Redwyne is largely isolated, but Lord Hightower is married to a daughter of Lord Florent, and her sister is married to Lord Tarly. All three of those houses are still following the Tyrells and all of them have Gardener claims to Highgarden."
Her father had spoken of Lord Tarly, a formidable soldier by all accounts. If he could form a coalition between those three houses, they might pose a threat indeed. "How close are those three houses?"
"Bound by marriage, but not devotion."
Shireen nodded. "So after the Tyrells are placated, they might be restored peacefully?"
"Perhaps? Personally I would think it safer to remove them, replace them with loyalists."
Shireen nodded. Perhaps that would be necessary. Still, exile did not always mean the end. The Manderly's had flourished in exile in the North. She didn't want to think of that. How would she fare in exile, away from all she had ever known in some strange new land. Poorly. She wouldn't want to inflict that on others who hadn't harmed her family. Perhaps she could persuade her father to show mercy, but there had to be something.
"So Lord Tarly, Florent and Hightower are bound, but what of their heirs?"
Sibyll pursed her lips in thought. "Lord Tarly and Lord Florent's heirs are yet unmarried," she said.
"And what about you?"
"Me?"
Shireen nodded, turning to stare intently at Sibyll. "Are your heirs unmarried?"
"Well, my son is not yet old enough to find a bride."
"Do you have daughters?"
"One."
She smiled. "Well, there we are then."
"I don't understand," Sibyll said. Shireen could tell she did. She knew what Shireen was implying, but dare not hope for it.
"You have a daughter that could marry either Lord Florent or Lord Tarly's son, and a son who could marry a daughter from the other house."
"But, why would we?" She wanted her answer.
"Your husband has shown his loyalty, and my father will need a loyal servant to look after Highgarden when he wins the war."
Sibyll's breath hitched. "He would give it to us?" Her voice was barely a whisper, yet so full of hope. Shireen hated that she couldn't be specific.
"I am not the king," she reminded Sibyll. "But if you continue to serve well, I would be certain to commend you to my father." She sat back. "And if the idea of binding yourself with Tarly or Florent is too much, there are other options."
Sibyll nodded, sitting back herself, but Shireen could tell she was eager, the tensing of her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the cup of wine. "Yes, other Houses in the Reach could be allies with the lure of marriage alliances. House Tyrell has not brought everyone into their fold."
"That isn't what I meant," Shireen said kindly. "I was talking about me."
"You?"
"Yes, me. Me and my brother. Both of us would need spouses. I would need a lord husband, and my brother would need a Queen, and all the benefits that come from a royal marriage would go with them of course." She drained the last of her wine. Sibyll looked at her, eyes wide in wonder. "Of course," she clarified, "it is my father's choice. Until I am married, I am but his servant, and I will marry who he chooses."
"As is only right of a woman," Sibyll said. "It's our lot."
"We are sat at the top of one of the most powerful castles in Westeros, drinking wine while much of the continent burns. Let's not complain so much that our fathers choose from the best stock for our husbands," she pointed out. "You know if I was to marry your son, and your house was to be given Highgarden, it would certainly be ironic."
"How so?"
Shireen smiled at the memory. A better time, a time before the war, when it seemed that all that was needed was justice. "When my father revealed his knowledge of his claim to me, it was floated that I might marry Willas Tyrell to bring the Reach onto our side. Now here I am, discussing how my marriage might instead remove the Tyrells from power."
She clutched her cup tightly. That ship had sailed now, the port was barred. The Tyrells could have brought them the throne, but now, most likely, they would be reduced and removed, if she had it her way, they would be.
