Character Ages:
―Luwin: 74
―Tywin Lannister: 65
―Kevan Lannister: 55
―Bronn: 34
―Theon Greyjoy: 20
―Robb Stark: 18
######
At King's Landing…
King Daveth and his two Kingsguard knights had returned to the capital and had summoned his military advisors to meet him at the White Sword Tower to discuss tactics; regardless of the attempt at parley, Daveth knew that war was inevitable and the Oathkeeper had to muster enough of his forces to be ready to hold the capital long enough for reinforcements to arrive should Renly's massive army close in. Yet despite knowing the odds, Daveth couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction following his meeting with his uncle Lord Stannis Baratheon on the island of Dragonstone, a small satisfying grin crept upon his face. He extended Stannis an offer: pledge fealty and rule both the Stormlands and Dragonstone once Renly was struck down. Stannis had apparently given his nephew the answer he had been waiting for.
"You'll get half of my fleet. 150 warships and a few auxiliary vessels," he remembered Stannis telling him. "And when the fighting's done, you'll have the rest."
Daveth knew something was better than nothing, and having a large portion of the Royal Fleet at his disposal should be more than sufficient enough to harass the rebel army by sea but also deal with the Redwyne Fleet as well. He leans over a table detailing a map of Westeros, flanked by those he assembled: Ser Lucius Blackmyre, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Barristan Selmy, and the Hand of the King Lord Eddard Stark.
"The rebel armies are beginning to mobilize," Daveth informed his generals, "though at least some of the Storm Lords have started to question the meaning of Renly's actions. Our men stationed in King's Landing are seeing to the city's defenses should the fighting ever comes here."
"Our scouts report that Lord Randyll Tarly and his men are moving north to root out those loyal to the King, some around 7,000. Infantry and some light cavalry," Eddard added. "We should dispatch troops to break the siege and get them to our side."
"And what if it's a trap, my Lord Hand?" Lucius questioned. "In a real war, the side with the greater number wins nine times out of ten. Meet Renly's soldiers out in the open field, it'll only end in a massacre. We need to divide Renly's army into separate cells, draw them out towards us into a rather enclosed area where they won't have enough room to move independently and we can surround them."
Jaime chimed in. "Pick them off one at a time, and their numbers should gradually start to drop; harass them with guerilla-style hit-and-runs long enough until an opportunity shows itself and we should mount a counterattack. Thanks to my nephew's… uh, 'compromise' with Lord Stannis, we've manage to acquire enough ships from Dragonstone to launch a naval siege to Storm's End."
"Storm's End is a well-defended fortress and is guarded by the storms, jagged rocks and wild waters of Shipbreaker Bay," Barristan argued. "Try to lay anchor and not only could we end up losing most of our fleet but we'd lose the only advantage we have."
Daveth sighed shaking his head. "But to do either we will need to acquire more men; the garrison here in King's Landing doesn't have enough and the City Watch patrolling the city is stretched thin."
"And what of the Reach, Your Grace?" Eddard ponders. "The Reach is the most fertile land in all the Seven Kingdoms. With access to food cut off, many in the city including our own men will starve. Even the crops we receive from the Riverlands could only last for so long."
"Renly could feed his troops and continue to march on the capital almost unopposed," finished Barristan.
"I say we burn them," Jaime suggested. "Raid their camps, break their supply lines and take whatever they've got from Highgarden and provide it to the soldiers."
Lucius looked at the Kingslayer. "Did you not hear a word that was said here, boy? Meet them in the open field would be a catastrophe," he sighed and massaged his wrinkled temples. "The King is right about this, though. To do whatever we propose here would require more troops if we're to ever make a move."
Daveth studied the map closely. "With the roads leading to both Stormlands and the Reach cut off the area closest to us is the Westerlands. My grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister has the largest army in all of Westeros, some 60,000 men. I hear he's already been informed of the situation and established a basecamp. The Riverlands are already on our side and Lord Hoster Tully has agreed to send a token force to aid us."
The King leaned up straight and turned to face Eddard. "Lord Stark, I need you to send a raven to Winterfell. Convince Robb to assemble the Northern army to help us."
"Robb?" Eddard asked. "He's just a boy."
"As was I, as we all were once. Yet do you hear anyone in this room complaining?" Daveth replied. "No one stays young forever. And in times of war, we'll need as many abled bodies as we can muster. I know you care for your family, but what other options do we have?"
Eddard shook his head in disapproval. He didn't want to get his family involved, but…
"I'll see what I can do," he answered.
"Ser Jaime will ride for the Westerlands to rendezvous with the Lannister forces and lay siege to Highgarden. Our fleet will sail to the Arbor under the cover of night and cripple the Redwyne Fleet before they even have a chance to set sail."
Jaime nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. Still, you think it'll work?"
"We won't know unless we try," Daveth shrugged. "Ser Lucius, you and Ser Barristan will both take a contingent unit of Tully soldiers to break Lord Tarly's siege on the dissenting Storm Lords. Do that, and they'll consider joining us. But be careful. Randyll Tarly is a shrewd and capable man, one of the finest military commanders Westeros has ever seen – the only one to defeat my Father in battle."
"Wouldn't it be simpler to just execute the traitorous rebels, Your Grace?" Meryn spoke bluntly. "It would send a clear message to any who'd dare rise against you again."
Daveth shook his head. "No, Ser Meryn. If any of them are Renly's senior officers, then they could possess valuable information we cannot afford to let slip through our fingers. And if they're willing and wish to atone for not acting sooner, then we will bring them into the fold."
Barristan smiled in approval, seeing this as an act of mercy.
"Isn't that being a little too merciful?" Meryn asked regardless.
Daveth shook his head. "No. In fact, I think we are being quite cruel…" he said rather coolly.
"The traitor and degenerate Renly Baratheon is going to reject whatever terms you offer, you know."
"And I'm counting on it. Pray that he's that stupid."
Meryn's face twitched, but the warrior nodded in acknowledgment at the King's order.
"Ser Meryn and I will both remain in the city with Ser Mandon, Ser Boros and Ser Preston and see to its defenses," Daveth continued. "You've all been given your assignments, and are free to act on the field as commanders in service to the Crown. Each of you represent the best Westeros has to offer. You are the elite, knights of the Kingsguard. I know you will do your duty. And so it is a proud honor that I send you into battle. Show the rebels the error of their actions, and the price they'll pay if they refuse to bend the knee. Dismissed."
The assembled Kingsguard bowed their heads and left the room, intent on carrying their assigned task. Before Eddard could leave, he was stopped.
"Lord Stark."
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"If you have a moment…" Daveth paused before resuming. "Send for my sister. Myrcella. I need to have a word with her. Alone."
Eddard nodded and left, leaving Daveth in the White Sword Tower by himself.
"Uncle Renly… Hmph! Look at him. He's lost sight of the bigger picture," Daveth thought aloud, his frown turning to an exasperated snarl. "And his greedy ambition blinds him to the truth; no clear goal, ignoring the fact the he fails to even understand his own limits… Using people, bringing war, death and destruction… It seems there are too many people like him in this world. What an imbecile."
*SLAM!*
Daveth brought his fist down and slammed the table in front of him so hard it caused a few cracks in the wood. Ignoring the throbbing numbness in his hand, Daveth slowly lifted his head up as he looked out the window – his face portrayed a cold yet ferocity of a lion's strength, and the spark was lit to ignite the fire of his fury.
"Renly Baratheon must DIE!"
######
Somewhere in the Westerlands…
Tyrion Lannister was already on his long march through the Westerlands to the capital after his victorious trial by combat at the Eryie, when he suddenly noticed crimson tents bearing the Lannister sigil and campfires emitting smoke.
'This is a war camp,' he realized. Something's not right.
Accompanying Tyrion was Bronn, a hired sellsword who acted as his champion in his trial of combat at the Vale, along with the Mountains of the Moon hill tribesmen who accompanied the Imp: Shagga, leader of the Stone Crows; Gunthor of the Stone Crows; Timett, leader of the Burned Men; Ulf, leader of the Moon Brothers; and Chella, leader of the Black Ears. Moving into the Lannister camp, Shagga and the hill tribe follow. Upon entering the main tent, two senior men are sitting at a table, scheming. The one elderly man standing was Ser Kevan Lannister, uncle to Queen Cersei, Ser Jaime and Tyrion, and father to Lancel. The other one sitting was Lord Tywin Lannister, ruler of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and King Daveth's grandfather. Even seated, Tywin was tall and slender with long legs, greyish blonde hair, pale green eyes, broad shoulders and a flat stomach. The former Hand of the King of nearly 20 years, Twyin has a very powerful presence and easily intimidates those around him… even members of his own family. Daveth himself, as powerful as he is, still has to tread with caution when dealing with his noble grandfather.
"Tyrion," Kevan said in surprise, the first to see him.
"Uncle. Father," Tyrion bows.
The Old Lion, Lord Tywin, did not stir from his chair but gave his dwarf son a long, cold look.
"The rumors surrounding your demise were unfounded."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Tyrion said.
"And who are these… companions of yours?" Tywin asked as cool as snow, noticing the hill tribesmen and sellsword standing behind Tyrion.
Tyrion took a moment to introduce them. "This is Shagga, son of Dolf, chieftain of the Stone Crows. Timett, son of Timett, ruler of the Burned Men. This fair maid is Chella, daughter of Cheyk, leader of the Black Ears. And here we have Bronn, son of…"
Bronn merely shook his head. "You wouldn't know him," he shrugged.
With that Tyrion turned to introduce Tywin to his traveling companions as the Old Lion, still sitting down, stood tall and proudly.
"May I present my lord Father, Tywin, son of Tytos of House Lannister. Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Kind of you to go to war for me," Tyrion said as he reached to pour himself a cup of his father's wine.
Tywin quickly grabbed the cup and moved it away.
"By my lights, you left us no choice. It was you who started it," Lord Tywin replied. "My grandson would never have had to stoop so low as to get you out of trouble if you hadn't been meekly submitted to capture at the hands of a woman."
"What can I say?" Tyrion joked amusingly. "I must be his favorite uncle. Considering the amount of effort he's put in for me."
Tywin simply ignored him. "Daveth's been paying his Father's debts to our House for a long time. Just this morning he sent a raven informing me of the situation further south."
"Riverrun has sent a token force to lift the siege at Bronzegate and Summerhall, but are being pushed back by the rebels," Kevan said. "Jaime is currently on his way here. Once he does, he will take 30,000 men to march on Highgarden and the surrounding areas."
"And the Starks? Lord Eddard—?" Tyrion said.
"—is still in King's Landing," his father said, "where he remains as Hand of the King."
Kevan chimed in. "We expect the Northmen to be calling their banners as well."
'Things really had gotten interesting while I was gone,' Tyrion reflected. "And what of our fearless monarch?" he wondered. "How did Ned allow the great King Robert to permit his youngest brother to lose his homeland and the Reach all at once?"
"Robert Baratheon is dead," Tywin said. "Your nephew rules in King's Landing."
Now that did take Tyrion aback as he took another gulp of ale. The realm had seemed like a different place with Daveth ruling in place of his father.
"Daveth… is King?"
Both Tywin and Kevan nodded their heads in confirmation.
"Daveth has already sent Ser Lucius Blackmyre and Ser Barristan Selmy leading a host of Tully soldiers to engage Randyll Tarly's forces near the Grassy Vale. They've already acted on whispers of discontent among the enemy ranks and will move to exploit it before they are silenced," informed Kevan.
"A green boy," Tywin spoke.
"Maybe," Tyrion said, "but Daveth's rather determined to see it through no matter the odds. You'd like how far he's come since Lannisport. While we're on the subject of war, however, I made promises to my friends here and a Lannister always pays his debts. We shall require 3,000 helms and shields, plus swords, pikes, gorgets, maces…"
Suddenly a messenger appears, interrupting Tyrion.
"If it pleases my lord, Ser Addam bids me report that the Reachmen are approaching the Goldengrove."
Lord Tywin Lannister did not smile as he stood to his feet, nearly towering over all those in attendance. Lord Tywin never smiled, but Tyrion had learned to read his father's pleasure all the same, and it was there on his face.
"The weeds think they can try to strangle the lion, unaware they're running straight into the lion's jaws," Tywin said in a voice of quiet satisfaction. "So be it. Kevan, command the drummers beat assembly. And send word to Jaime that I am moving south."
Kevan nodded to his older brother. "At once, my lord."
Tywin turned his attention towards the hill tribesmen. "It is said that the men of the Mountain clans are great warriors. Ride with me against my enemies and you shall have my son promised you and more."
"Only if the half man fights with us," Shagga proclaimed. "Until we hold the steel he pledged us, the little lion's life is ours."
Tywin looks over to Tyrion, who looks shocked at the request.
######
At Winterfell…
"'Reinforcements?'" Robb recited the words written on the paper he was reading. "Father wrote this?"
A raven had arrived at Winterfell bearing a letter marked with the Hand of the King's seal and written in Eddard's hand; the cruel truth seemed no less incredible. They were a thousand leagues away, planning to mount an attempt to defend King's Landing and stall the claimant King Renly Baratheon's forces long enough to buy time.
Maester Luwin nodded, "It is your Father's hand, but no doubt it was the King's words. From what we've learned so far, they're fighting an incredibly large army and don't have enough men to hold the capital should the war come to King's Landing."
"Father, Daveth… both of my sisters Sansa and Arya are there."
"They are, my lord. Should you ever need to answer the call—"
"I'm going," Robb proclaimed. "If my Father and His Grace both requested my help, then it the situation seems dire. But I won't go alone. Call the banners."
"All of them, my lord?" Luwin asks.
Robb spoke with cool courtesy. "They are sworn to defend my Father, are they not?"
"They have."
"Now we'll see what their words are worth."
Maester Luwin nods and leaves the Great Hall to send word. As the caws and wing flaps from numerous ravens begin to make its sounds known, Robb sat next to Theon – who was busy getting himself cladded in armor and polishing his sword. Robb was already wearing a surcoat over his leather armor and was ready to begin the long march south, accompanied by his direwolf Grey Wind. Grey Wind has grown larger and lean and was quite bold; just moments ago he had already jumped over the table so fast and bit off two of Lord Greatjon Umber's fingers when the lord unsheathed his sword after being refused the honor of commanding the Northern army's vanguard. Not long after saying his farewells to Bran (now fully awake) and leaving the boy in command of Winterfell in his stead, Robb felt his right hand beginning to tremble.
"Are you afraid?" Theon asks.
"I must be," Robb answers.
"Good."
Robb looked at Theon, "Why is that good?" he asks curiously.
"Because it means you're not stupid." For once Theon didn't smile. His lean, dark face had a hungry look to it, and dark brown hair fell down across his eyes.
Robb said nothing, as both Stark and Greyjoy left Winterfell on their respective horses as they prepare to rally the North and begin their long march down the Neck.
######
At the parley…
For almost a year since the deaths of Jon Arryn and their eldest brother Robert Baratheon, after what seemed like as a long time, both Stannis and Renly Baratheon come face-to-face at the scheduled meeting place for the attempt to parley; each of them were guarded by a selection of their own troops.
"Stannis?" Renly said surprised. "You're Daveth's envoy?"
"Who else might I have been?" Stannis replied curtly.
"Well, when I first saw your standard I couldn't be sure as to who you were," Renly said as he gave an easy shrug before noticing a banner depicting a crowned black stag enwrapped in a fiery red heart. "Who's banner is that?" he asked.
"My own," Stannis answered.
Renly, still smirking with confidence, was rather cheerful. "I suppose if we both used the same one, then the battle would be terribly confusing. But why is your stag on fire?"
The red-clad priestess Melisandre spoke up. "Your brother has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light."
"Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about," Renly said amused. "Mm, Brother, now I understand why you found religion in your old age."
Stannis was not amused. "Watch yourself, Renly," he warned.
"No, no, I'm relieved. I never really believed you're a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes, but not a godly man."
"You should kneel when speaking to your betters, Lord Renly," Melisandre said. "The King has selected the Lord's chosen, his uncle Lord Stannis – born amidst salt and smoke – to represent the Crown's interest."
"'Born amidst salt and smoke'? Is he a ham?" Renly mocked.
"That's twice I've warned you," Stannis warned again. "If you have proposals to make, make them. If you have an answer, say it. Or I will be gone."
"Very well," said Renly. "I propose that you and Daveth bend your knee, and swear me your allegiance."
Stannis choked back rage. "That you shall never have."
"You served Robert, why not me?"
"Robert was my elder brother. You are the younger. And Daveth is our brother's seed."
"Well, out of all of us I am younger, bolder, and far more comely―"
"―and a thief and a usurper besides."
Renly shrugged. "The Targaryens called Robert usurper. He seemed to be able to bear the shame. So shall I."
"Regardless of what you think, the Iron Throne is Daveth's by right. Nearly every noble House of Westeros supports our nephew's claim, and yet somehow you don't. Instead you chose to be a mere pretender."
"Our nephew may have the better claim, Stannis," smiled Renly as he slid inside his cloak reaching for the hilt of his blade but instead grabbed a peach, "but I have the larger army. Would you like one, Brother? From Highgarden. You've never tasted anything so sweet, I promise you."
As he took a bite, Stannis was fuming.
"Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. 'Winter is coming.'"
"I did not come here to listen to you threaten me." Stannis snapped.
"Nor did I come to be threatened by you!" Renly snapped back. "When I make threats, you'll know it. If truth be told, I've never liked you, Stannis, but you are my own blood, and I have no wish to slay you. So if it is Storm's End you want, take it… as a brother's gift. As Robert once gave it to me, I give it to you."
"Enough!" Stannis roared. "It is not yours to give. It is mine by rights."
Renly sighed. "A man without friends is a man without power, Brother."
"I'm not without mercy," Stannis replied more calmly. "For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will tell you one last time to strike your banners, come to Daveth before dawn, and he might consider dismissing the charges against you. If not, then I'll destroy you."
"Look across those fields, Brother," Renly pointed to his bannermen. "Can you see all those banners?"
"You think a few bolts of cloth will make you King?" Stannis dared.
"No. The men holding those bolts will make me King."
Stannis shook his head. He wasn't surprised this would happen, but at least he did his duty and did as he was instructed to do.
"So be it. You disappoint me, Renly," Stannis snorted disdainfully. "Come the dawn, you will realize your grave mistake."
"Look to your sins, Lord Renly," spoke Melisandre. "The night is dark and full of terrors."
As the two rode off to King's Landing to inform Daveth, Renly and Ser Loras Tyrell and the rest of Renly's Kingsguards looked on.
"Would you believe?" Renly lamented to Loras. "I loved him once."
After that, Renly and his bodyguards turned and galloped to the main camp. It appears that war was inevitable; and once the two armies clashed swords, only one will come out on top.
Chapter End
######
Author's Note: Chapter 20 is done after nearly 6 hours, 52 minutes. Daveth plots his next move; while that's going on, the Westerlands, Riverlands, Crownlands and the North have answered the Oathkeeper's call and have begun to march… and Stannis Baratheon has now chosen a side. What will happen next after the negotiations failed (to no one's surprise)? What's in store for the Oathkeeper? Find out next time. Thoughts? Let me know.
C.E.W: Daveth has won Stannis over, and that adds another proven battle-commander to his side against Renly. Renly is on a time limit, if Daveth's plan can keep Renly's army divided then it will buy time for the Lannister and Northern armies join up with the Crownlands, then they crush Renly before he can attack the capital.
―If all goes according to plan then the war will be over before it even begins.
Patty 4577: One question. How come it has taken a year for Tyrion to finally arrive at the Lannister's war camp?
―One was he was planning to return after his brief visit to the Wall and the other, well, ask the dear old crazy, paranoid, and maniacal widow Lysa Arryn
Silver crow: Firstly I've really been enjoying this fic so far
Two things that botherd me one isn't the royal fleet Technically Daveths anyway so why did he have to go to Dragonstone himself when he could have just sent a Raven to tell Stannis he will be getting Storms end and that Renlys betrayed them
Second shouldn't the North have called their banners the minute Renly rebelled or more accurately Ned should have sent a Raven telling Robb to call the banners the minute he got news of Renly revolt because not only is Daveth his lawful king he's also his future Son in law
―(1) Technically yes the Royal Fleet is under the jurisdiction of the Crown, but they're ultimately led by the Master of Ships. Stannis was the Master of Ships under his brother Robert. Although Daveth could've easily sent a raven to Dragonstone since it's close to King's Landing, he'd rather confront Stannis in person to tell him. Best hear about something from someone rather than just send a letter.
―(2) Traveling to the North by foot or sending a raven with a message that far north would take at least a month, maybe a month and a half; it would've taken time for Ned to send Robb word from King's Landing.
Moshi: Daveth is about to use Myrcella to secure Dorne isn't he? I still don't understand the Stormlanders, don't they realize what they are doing? Don't they see how power hungry Renly is and that he is rebelling against his nephew for no reason other than being a whiny little shit?
―No spoilers.
―I think at some point the Stormlanders will begin to feel the heat and question Renly's motives.
mpowers045: I hope Renly dies by the sword, you got admit that was pretty convincing when Renly countered with the "The men holding those bolts will make me king" part
―It'll be an interesting match-up since Daveth and Renly never fought a day in their lives nor participated in a war; this is gonna be their first time. Perhaps it'll come down who can outlast or outsmart the other?
Oto Mustam: Are you stannis going to kill renly?
―That depends whether it'll be direct or indirect.
Vulcran Stormblade: let's get ready to rumble! That's all I need to say.
―"Baratheon vs. Baratheon; Loyalist vs. Rebel; Nephew vs. Uncle; etc." somebody should sell tickets to get access to the front row seats and buy some popcorn!