Kingdom of the Reach: Rallying the Past
Highgarden had turned as cold as the North that morning. Not physically or literally, but metaphorically. All of the handmaidens and guards were rushing about with thin lips pasted about them, and always carrying things. It was the day that the Gardeners were due to leave for Harrenhal - but even this was not why it felt as though the temperature had plunged all about the castle.
Harlen Flowers knew. The twenty-one year old bastard of the King was currently sitting outside, his legs propped up on a bit of stone. His bow was slung over his shoulder, and his unkempt hair was turned wilder by the breeze that was blowing that dawn. Sometimes he liked to sit outside and watch as the Queen's little spies plucked around the gardens - they had learned a while ago not to bother with Harlen. What he knew he wouldn't say, and what he knew was little - that they knew of.
A long way down the old dirt road that led up to Highgarden castle he had spotted a most peculiar sight. A waving grey flag, with the white tower and bright orange flame. He had just chuckled a little when he had seen it for the first time - Highgarden was going to have some fireworks.
He hadn't been alive then, but everyone who had ever lived in Highgarden knew the tale. It was one of the first anyone told him when he was old enough - his half-brother Dantis had been the one to tell him. Back in their youth, King Garth Gardener, his now-wife then-friend Melessa Rowan, and Gwayne Hightower had all been dear friends, with the last two being fostered at Highgarden. Rumor had it that both men desired the Rowan - but that was long in the past by now.
Anyway, as time went on, the friendship between Gardener and Hightower thinned. Jokes turned to barbs, laughter turned to clenched fists, and before long, friendship turned into well, something worse than that. Far worse. It was King Gardener's first public tryst since he had married Melessa Rowan. Harlen had been carefully tucked away to Brightwater Keep by then (the house of his mother). Lord Hightower had a young daughter, just five-and-ten at the time, who had alleged that the King had raped her. It had been years in the past by the time Harlen had heard the story, so he made no judgments on the matter.
The political fallout had been fierce. Gwayne Hightower was a learned hand - a lord longer than Garth had been King. He promptly recalled himself to Oldtown afterwards, but not before he bore steel in the presence of the King. It wasn't a second longer before the Queen was in the room, and ordered both men to stand down. If it weren't for her, a kingslaying may have been in business, along with a civil war shortly to follow.
Harlen had never gotten along with Melessa Gardener. He hadn't ever thought he would, so he made himself scarce whenever she was near. He didn't hate her, nor did she hate him. She hated the idea of him, to be sure, with him being the King's bastard and all that. But personally, they just didn't interact much.
Harlen Flowers was nothing if not a survivor. And to survive in Highgarden, you didn't get in the Queen's way. It wasn't too long before he felt someone sit down near him - and turning his head, he could see his half-sister Kathryn. He'd always been a little careful around her - she reminded him of her mother, if a little bit more unstable than that.
"Good morning," Harlen rumbled. He'd been the one to teach her to ride a horse - for that, she seemed to have some sense of loyalty towards him. A good thing, to be sure. They had been rather close in their youth when he had returned to Highgarden. Not since she'd become an adult, though.
"Morning," She said cheerfully as she sipped on some wine. The cadre of Hightower men was coming ever closer.
"You're the one to greet the Hightowers?" Harlen was more than a little surprised. He would only be more shocked if the King himself came out to begin the anger early.
"No, no." Kathryn waved him off with a smile, relaxing against the stone wall herself. "Dantis and mother will be out soon. Everyone's all wound up inside, so I decided to come out here and get some air."
Harlen gave a little nod, and sure enough, the doors flung open shortly thereafter. The Queen wore a gown of gold, spun with dark green inlaid into it. Her eldest son was at her side, his skin tanned and his blonde hair curly, but short. Dantis had taken after his father in some ways - that being, lacking much in the wits department (though certainly more of a mix than Garth had been himself), but was more like his grandfather before him - bright, happy, and all in all, pleasant to be around. Dantis was the one that Harlen liked the most, even if his positive outlook sometimes grated on his nerves.
The main purpose that Harlen was even going with them all to Harrenhal was to help guide them. It was easy enough to find on a map, but only Harlen in the entire castle had ever been there before. Even the Gardeners had largely stayed away when the last King had his wedding. Now, they were all going to go. Funny how things can change.
"Lord Hightower," Queen Melessa took a few strides forward, her hand outstretched for the lord to take. The petite queen was much smaller than the domineering lord, who took after his house in his towering height. Even Dantis, tall for the Gardener family, stood much shorter than Gwayne Hightower.
The lord himself was a bit of an enigma to Harlen. He and the King were somewhat inverses of each other. The King's hair was almost all grey now, save for gold at the roots. Gwayne's was nearly all gold, save for a bit of greying at the fringes. Whatever warmth there had been between the Queen and the Hightower lord had faded, it would seem. Courtesy was there, but the smiles were not natural, in Harlen's opinion.
"Our household is ready to set out." Melessa forced a smile and looped her arm in with her eldest son's. "A long journey ahead, but not too difficult one, I should hope."
Lord Gwayne gave a strict incline of his head. Most men seemed to slightly bow to the Hightower, even if they didn't mean to. Harlen had noticed that once when he'd gone to the Arbor - home of a different prickly lord, and Lord Hightower had been there. Melessa Gardener was the exception. Her chin was lifted up, and her eyes were meeting him straight on. In that moment, one could forget the hostility between the King and Queen. That had just been the warm-up.
"I'll take the front of the van, if that pleases," Lord Gwayne told her in a lofty, but gravelly voice.
"Oh, yes, certainly." It didn't please the Queen, but she knew better than to press an issue that small. "Harlen," Her voice called as she turned to where he and Kathryn were sitting. A bit startled, he nearly fell off, but he managed to limit it to just swinging his legs over the side she was on. "Would you help the Lord Hightower with the direction to go?"
"Certainly," Harlen said crisply and hopped to his feet. He jogged over and fell into stride beside the tall man.
"Another Gardener bastard," Hightower snapped, quite rudely, as they made their way down the path that left Highgarden.
Harlen wasn't quite sure what to say, so he just kept quiet. He pointed the horses they had in the right direction, and helped some of the guards with what turns to take ahead in case he wasn't paying attention or decided to get some shut-eye on one of the wagons they were taking with them. The Reach was leaving. Or at least, those of much importance. And Harlen found himself in the thick of it.
Kingdom of the Isles and Rivers: A Queen
The wind was harsh, and the water sprayed the deck nearly four times an hour, getting the men coated in the icy water and salt that plagued the Iron Islands. The water was a deep blue, with the white caps sinking every few seconds as new ones appeared just inches from where they had been before. The men of the ship didn't care - they were quite used to it. Their new thralls, salt wives, and otherwise tortured prisoners were quite different.
Lady Jeyne Mooton was in the cabin with them, where all of those of some importance were kept. Two were minor lords of the Stormlands, one a Lyseni highborn of some high birth, three were riverland maidens like herself, taken from Maidenpool. They were destined for thralldom, maybe some of the prettier ones for salt wives. There were about five or six others, but they hadn't talked the whole journey.
They each looked at something every day - there was a set of stairs to the right, which led below decks. They hardly ever heard anything from that way, but the same key that the ironborn kept with them opened that door. The food stores were down there, they knew it. And, for those that were more desperate - they could make a dash to the deck to throw themselves overboard.
The fleet had sailed at speed from Maidenpool. The black haired lady knew better than to think she'd ever see her father or brothers again. The last she'd seen of her home town was its burning carcass as the ships sped away. They had gotten their prize - the Maiden of Maidenpool. What for, she only had ideas.
Jeyne huddled beneath a blanket, a scratchy, grey rag that barely kept out any heat. The door made a noise like a key going into a slot. One of the other girls from Maidenpool huddled with her, and the whole group collectively shivered when the door banged open. The skies were a dark grey, and lightning cracked outside. Thunder boomed, and she could feel the girl beside her shake. The man who had come inside was not highborn, Jeyne could tell. Even for the Iron Islands, he was lowborn.
The man set the gold key aside on the desk. "One of you, come here." He said in a harsh voice. When no one moved, he stomped over to them and each shrunk away.
He stared at Jeyne, but grabbed the girl beside her. "No!" Jeyne protested and grabbed the girl's arm to hold her back in the room. Blood sprang into her mouth as a hard backhand caught her across the cheek, and her hand fell to her side. The girl screamed and clawed at the man, but he took her out of the room anyway. The door was shut after that, and the whole group was silent once again.
Candlelight flickered in the holster it was on the wall - just a bit of light other than the lightning cracking through the windows. Jeyne slowly got to her feet, wiping away a bit of blood that had leaked out the side of her mouth. The gold of the key was calling to her. Quietly, she crept across the wooden floor, cringing at every creak and closing her eyes when she felt like someone was watching. She heard murmurs behind her, worried ones as the group fretted about what could happen.
Jeyne picked up the cold key into her hand. She slid it into the waistband of her dress, where normally some sort of belt would go. She looped her hair around a bun laid on her head so no one could see her as easily. Taking the key back into her hand, she marched to the stairs. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and she slid it into place. The Mooton girl twisted, and the door opened.
A rush of warm air hit her face, and she was pleasantly surprised. The food stores were indeed down there, sacks of it. Apples, grapes from the Arbor, grain, bread, beef and pork, anything that she could think of. Where had they been? Jeyne wondered. She hadn't gotten a good view of the ship's captain when she was forced on board. Only the man who was grabbing her, who wasn't much more than a thrall himself.
She shut the door after her once she realized no one was going to follow. She wrapped the grey blanket around herself tightly, her black dress having already been soaked twice when she'd been out on the deck. She'd long since accepted she would never make it back to Maidenpool. But who said that she had to do what these ironborn wanted?
Jeyne Mooton didn't really have a plan. Not one that would end up saving her, at least. If she could hide in the storerooms below deck, and everyone left the ship, maybe she could make out a life on the Iron Islands as a fisher or gatherer or something akin to that. She knew whatever future they had dreamt up between them was much worse than that. They hadn't touched her the whole time they'd been on board, which was scaring her almost more than if they had.
Just as she took a bite of an apple, she heard heavy thudding above her. She let out a little squeak and threw the blanket over herself, tucking into a corner that was less well lit than the others. Jeyne tensed as she heard one of them scream from upstairs. It wasn't a moment later when someone was coming down the stairs. Just one pair of footsteps, though.
It fell quiet for a bit, and she knew the man was creeping around the storeroom. She peeked out from underneath the gray blanket, and could see he was getting closer to her. He had a different sort of persona to him - something she wasn't prepared for. He was dark haired, broad shouldered, and his hair was tied back into a bun. He even had a slight bit of a...tan? No one in the Iron Isles had those.
Jeyne pushed the blanket away from her and she hid behind a nearby crate. Her breathing was heavy, but she was doing the best she could not to make it noisy. Seven save me. She thought before she took a step out, running at the man and clawing his face. He growled and grabbed her by the hip, the scratching doing little but irritating him. He threw her away from him, and she hit the wooden floor hard. Pain throbbed in her side, but she did her best to roll out of the way.
"Riverland bitch," The man cursed and grabbed at her again. She was just quick enough to dance out of the way. Jeyne dashed back for the stairs, not knowing where she'd go, but anywhere would beat here. Heavy boots stomped behind her, and she cried out as his boot must've stomped on the back of her dress, and she was sent plowing face-first into the floor.
He grabbed her and tugged her back to her feet, not letting her get a moment to wallow in the pain she felt. "I hope you're worth it," The man snarled as he held her waist tightly in his grip.
A wave of fear passed through her as she realized. Everything was starting to come together. Jeyne hadn't seen the name of the ship, but she knew now - The Leviathan. Rumor had it years ago, it had drowned beneath the waves off of Storm's End, along with it's...captain. Lorcan Greyjoy had sailed all over Essos, including near Lorath and Asshai before he drowned near Storm's End. But he hadn't drowned. He was standing in front of her.
"Hey!" She complained as he dragged her with him up the stairs, her knees hitting the hard wood and trailing after him.
"I'd take you as my own with that fight," Lorcan told her as they crossed to the doors of the cabin. He spat at the floor and hauled her outside. "Unfortunately, you're marked for my good friend, so that I cannot do."
"What?" She gasped for breath as the wind hit her. They had reached Pyke, it would seem. The towers rose in the distance, and the cold was already soaking her to the bone.
"Haven't you realized?" The Greyjoy said with a touch of humor. "The King surely has. The Riverlands are going to blow up soon. He needs a house to stay on his side. A wealthy one. A big one. So, my little lady of Mooton, your husband is going to be King before too many years, I'm sure. Don't worry, Darrick is proper ironborn. You'll have a baby before long." A cruel smirk passed his features, but Jeyne wasn't sure if he was just toying with her or telling the truth. Either way, she paled further.
"Lord Greyjoy," One of the men from the island exclaimed as he ran to him. "We thought you were dead!"
"The Durrandons wish I was." Lorcan smiled and embraced him with the one arm that wasn't holding Jeyne. "Where is Cottro?" Context clues gave in to Jeyne to assume he was the Greyjoy's brother. An older one, it would seem.
The man soured immediately, turning back to look at the choppy sea. "The waters have him now." Despite herself, Jeyne felt a bit bad for the man, whose face turned to ash like hers.
"How?" Lorcan demanded, tightening his grip on Jeyne's arm almost painfully so.
"A year ago, he went to take Bear Island back," The ironborn rubbed his arm as the rain and wind whipped around them. To Lorcan, it seemed calm, all he could hear was the echoing of the man's words in his mind. "But the Starks were ready for us. They hauled him to Winterfell to await trial. King Stark personally executed him."
Lorcan had seemed to her before as a bit of a brute, but at least he hadn't done worse to her than just tug her around places. Now, it seemed as though rage filled his vision, and she was the closest one to him that was of another place. She tensed for what seemed like an inevitable attack, but it didn't come. The Greyjoy released her, muttered some words to the man, and marched off towards the castle. Scared and alone, Jeyne was left to her fate.
Kingdom of the Westerlands: Ties that Bind
It was the last night the lords' chamber would be occupied for a few weeks, even a month maybe, as the Lannisters were set to visit Harrenhal. Normally, it would be filled with laughter and squeals as the King and Queen woke up - the Queen seemed to have a penchant for making her husband spend some time with her before he went on with his business. Not that he minded at all, the Lannister matriarch was his life's only dream that had come true.
Elayna was a fragile little thing, and she was sighing as she laid back in bed. Her pale skin was bare, and her husband was chuckling a little to himself as he combed through the dresses that laid over one of the chairs.
"You're hopeless," Elayna teased as she threw her head back upon the pillows. Her blonde hair hung around her like a halo, and she made no move to cover up in front of her husband. "Just pick one already." She complained, some air coming in from outside - cool morning air off the shores near Casterly Rock.
The Queen had once been a Lannister of Lannisport - and had made a lovely queen indeed. She birthed King Tybolt three children - Torek, Willas, and Cerelle. After the last, the birth of her beloved daughter, there was a major complication with the birth that had wiped out much of her ability to walk, or do anything physical. Well, physical outside of the bedroom, it would seem.
"Maybe I just like seeing you like this." He said coyly as he lifted a dress, a half-gold half-crimson one that she liked. Elayna knew Tybolt didn't like wearing gold himself, but it had never stopped Elayna.
"We're going to be late if you take much longer," Elayna poked his cheek when he got close enough. His calloused fingertips slid under her back and helped her tug her smallclothes on, followed by the dress itself. She was giggling again that morning as his lips pressed gentle kisses on the inside of her thigh and the side of her breast. "We don't have time." She protested, patting his cheek fondly once he finally tugged the dress up onto his wife.
"Luckily we got it last night, then." Tybolt said with a touch of humor in his voice. Her wheelchair was set up to the side of the bed. She could get into it herself with little problem - she could even manage a walk to the dining hall most days. But getting outside, as she'd have to today, would be a struggle.
Elayna didn't take his hand when he bent to help her up, she just laid there.
"Something on your mind?" Tybolt sank to sit down beside her, taking her hand into his quietly and giving a kiss to her knuckles. His worry-filled green eyes looked down at her.
"Of course." Elayna smiled and nudged her nose against his elbow. "You know me." By now, she had all but ignored all the murmurs about her physical state - nothing the ironborn or any other people would say about her would worry her. She was strong enough to know that much about herself. "The kids, I…"
"We've talked about this," Tybolt sighed and rubbed his face, laying down beside her and facing her, their green eyes mirroring one another's. They rarely fought, and never for very long, but the one that came to mind had been one of the worse ones. It had been smoothed over by the end of the night, as they made it common practice, but it still resonated.
"What if there's no one that will be good for her?" Elayna questioned, putting her chin on the sheets. "Kings are greedy creatures, Tybolt." As he chuckled, she elbowed him lightly in the chest. "I don't mean you, silly. You know Garth Gardener, and Erich Durrandon. That's not even taking into account the Hoares, Starks, Arryns or any of the rest. And men who want to be Kings are even worse."
Tybolt traced her cheek with one of his fingers, placing a kiss on her brow. "I would never give our daughter or our sons to men or women that would do them harm."
Elayna, truth be told, was less worried about their sons. The ladies would have to be nice to them, whether they wanted to or not. They were in their household, and Tybolt was a fearsome man to those that didn't know him. Elayna had cracked the armor a long time ago, and far faster than anyone else had. That didn't mean it would fall so easily for others.
"They may not do her harm," Elayna granted him, allowing him to help her up this time, sinking down into the slightly crude wheeled chair. "But I tell you this - nowhere in the Riverlands will be safe if her husband declares himself a King. The ironborn could find her, rape her, kill her. I know you've thought of this too."
Tybolt had indeed. It was a risk that he found himself unwilling to make at times. Cerelle was his only daughter - and had a sweet heart at that. His hands grabbed the handles that he'd had the woodcarver fashion, beginning to push her in the chair. "I know." He said quietly and kissed her head, bending down over her. "But while the Hoares get stronger, no one will be safe. We have to stop them now, and Cerelle knows the part she plays in that."
Elayna wasn't one to give up easily, but neither was her husband. "I told you when that nice Tully lord came to our castle to give hre to him." She said in a slightly strained voice. "A good lord, with a nice heart." She continued. "With hair the color of fire and eyes as deep as the ocean. Cerelle even liked him. A good man, he was. You sent him away, empty handed. I know he asked for her hand."
There wasn't much that King Tybolt kept from his wife, and the precious few things he did, she found out before long. It wasn't even worth it to try. He sighed. "The Tully was a nice man, and yes, he did. But the Tullys are not Kings. They do not have the blood of kings in their veins like the Vances, Brackens or Blackwoods. Even this Mudd they talk about."
Elayna frowned at that. "Blood doesn't matter." She protested as he wheeled her from the room, leading her down a hallway as guards followed. "It's the heart. Lannister swords can make him King. I tell you that these Vances could pretend to be Kings, say they have the blood, and then be wiped out because they have no allies. Why can't we make a family of Kings with a good family, a nice man, and someone our daughter could grow to love, like we have?"
Tybolt knew it wouldn't end. The Tully boy had made an impression on them all - it was hard for Tybolt even to send him away. He knew he had to, in the end. There were others that Cerelle would love. It did hurt his heart to see the redness around her eyes the next morning when Florian Tully was gone. A singer and a lord, he was. He'd charmed her well, and even made the King smile at one of the songs he'd made about the King and Queen. The Tullys could be allies. But they would not wed his daughter, he had made that decision a while ago, and he couldn't change it now.
Their sons waited for them ahead, Cerelle already out the door. Torek was the eldest, and looked the most like his father. Taller than Tybolt, even, with the Lannister lion always on his garb. He would make a fine King one day, Elayna was sure. A bit bullheaded sometimes, and fiercely protective of his family. Willas had always worried her more - he was prone to anger. He'd make a good position with the guards and men that Casterly Rock commanded, but a poor King he would make.
"Mother," Torek gave her a smile and bent down to kiss her cheek. If Tybolt would not let her choose a good man for Cerelle, then she would choose a good lady for her son. That, she was assured of.
"All ready to go?" Elayna stepped out of the chair, and thank the gods that her legs didn't wobble. Her eldest had a hand on her arm, and her husband held the other. Together, the Lannisters walked out of the castle, just as they would do in every walk of life.
Author's Note: Thank you to all who are reading, and a very special thank you to everyone who is reviewing. I deeply appreciate that, and I love reading what you all have to say. This part begins our story proper. We will be able to meet all sorts of characters once we get to Harrenhal, but we had quite a few in this chapter as well. I would name far too many, but thank you to all who submitted characters who made even a slight impact on this chapter. Let me know what you think in reviews. Thanks!
