Queen Margaery Baratheon

Margaery had married her King the day before, when the sun had shone and the weather had been sweltering hot. She had dressed in green and gold, the colours of her house, and had smiled when she'd seen the King-Jon's- jaw drop open. She'd felt beautiful as she'd walked toward him. They'd said their vows in the Great Sept, and then they'd feasted, and celebrated the marriage before the bedding. The bedding itself was, and here she blushed slightly, the bedding had been very interesting. They'd both learned things about one another last night that she was more than eager to learn more about right now. However, she knew as her husband stirred that he would have more things to do. She sighed, her husband was riding off to war today, to fight the Dothraki and the Targaryens.

"Morning." Jon said. She smiled, his hair was ruffled and his voice was slightly hoarse.

"Morning." She replied. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips revelling in the feel of being able to do that. "Did you sleep well?" She asked.

Jon grinned. "I did. Did you?" He pulled her closer to him, so that her head was resting on his chest.

"I did. I had the nicest dream." Margaery said.

"Oh?" Jon replied.

"I dreamt that there was a strong knight waiting for me, and that I had to hurry home to him." Margaery said. Smiling slightly as Jon tightened his hold on her.

"And what did this man look like?" her husband asked.

She sat up, and ran her hands over his chest. "He was well muscled, he had black hair and the nicest smile I've ever seen. And he smelled lovely."

"He sounds like an arse." Her husband quipped. Margaery smiled and leaned over and kissed him, he replied back, and when they broke apart, her husband sighed. "I have to get ready." Margaery nodded and they both got up, a bath was run for them both, and as they sat inside it, her husband spoke once more. "You don't think the others will be up too late do you? It was quite a night that we had."

Margaery grinned. "I think my father will be up quite quickly, I know he wants to take advantage of the ride toward the Riverlands to make sure that you know just how much of a loyal servant of the crown he is." She huffed then, her father had been very surprised but also happy when the King had announced that he wished to marry her before he rode off to war.

Jon smiled. "You think he will try and extol the virtues of why he should replace Jon Arryn as hand, despite the fact that the man is not even dead yet?" Margery nodded, Jon Arryn had been ill for some time now, he would murmur something or the other, according to Jon, but would never actually speak. It seemed that speech had been robbed from him. Yet he refused to die, much to her father's consternation.

"I think that my father now wants to finish the grand plan that his own father had. He has me as Queen, now he wants to own the badge of handship and then he thinks he will be able to dictate policy in a more favourable southern light. That is why he's asked Garlan to ride out with some ten thousand men from the Reach whilst entrusting my uncle Garth with the remainder of the Reach host to keep the Florent cadet branches from rebelling." Margery replied.

As they got changed, Jon pulled her close and asked. "And what do you think I should do? Should I name your father as my hand, my lady wife, or not?"

Margaery turned and looked at her husband. "I think that if you name my father hand, he will be happy but the Kingdom will suffer. You are a smart man, Jon, you have been trained from birth to rule, and you have kept the kingdom going despite the chaos it is currently in. I do not think you and my father will get on as Hand. Appoint him to some other position but not the handship."

"Do you think then that I should keep that position vacant?" Jon asked. Margaery nodded, she appreciated that her husband trusted her judgement. If this had been any other man he would have immediately raised some concern over her lack of loyalty to her father, even if it meant she was showing more loyalty to her husband.

"I think that keeping it vacant would be the best strategy possible. I do not think you should name anyone as Hand whilst Jon Arryn is alive, for that would then make it seem as though you had a hand in the current hand's illness." Margaery replied. "Even if as you suspect other forces had a hand in his illness." Jon nodded, they both knew who she referred to, she'd suspected the same person he did for some time.

"Very well." The King replied, as the door opened and his equerries, Lancel Lannister and Quentyn-who she smiled at- walked in to help him dress into his armour. As they did so, Jon said. "You will serve as regent whilst I am away at war. My Mother will help you as well, she knows some of the ins and outs better than I do. But the remainder of the council will be yours to command."

Margaery bowed her head. "Thank you, Jon, you honour me." As the last strap of armour was put on, her husband turned, he glimmered like a ruby in his black armour.

"It is the only common sense thing to do. You are my wife, and my Queen. When I am not here, you shall rule in my name." he took her hands then and added. "You are me and I am you." They kissed briefly, then together they walked to the throne room where her husband gave a rousing speech.

Lord Theon Greyjoy

The cunts kept coming. They stormed and they roared and they fought. Theon fought with a sword, his uncle who he had never fought could fight, fought with a hammer, and the other members of the household and of House Harlaw fought alongside him. Some idiot had staged a rebellion, declaring that Theon was not the rightful Lord of the Iron Islands, that that title belonged to his uncle Euron, who was on the other end of the kingdom in Dragonstone. Surprisingly, the rebel had picked up a lot of support, that suggested to Theon that more people were rebelling due to the declining economic situation rather than any loyalty to Euron Crow's Eye. Still it was a bloody pain. Theon swung his sword and watched another man duck and dodge, he was cut and damaged, his armour had been burned by the rebels before he'd even known what the hell was going on.

He'd been a bit foolish travelling to Ten Towers whilst leaving his armour in Pyke, he should have known these idiots would not let him travel in peace. He kept thinking these people actually wanted to change and not just stick to the same old traditions that had done nothing more than harm them. It seemed that he was wrong. He swung and missed and took another hit. He wore boiled leather that his uncle had thrown him before they fight had begun. Theon knew that perhaps he should try speaking to these people, but he had no desire to. They were rebels and they would die as such.

As that thought echoed in his head, he wondered what it said about him as a person, or perhaps a lord. He'd been Lord of the Iron Isles for perhaps three moons, maybe more, officially, and already there was a revolt. Yes, it might have been inspired by things beyond his control, but really as things continued to grow, would there not be times when he would have to seriously think on just what the hell he would do. He had looked through the books of the Iron Islands, they were broke. They had little money to truly do anything. His uncle had tried his hardest to keep things on an even keel but the lords of the isles had refused to listen and now, now they were paying the price. There was so much he wished to do, so many things he had to do and he did not know if he would get to do them.

Theon took a blow to the face and fell to the ground. It seemed the person who had struck him thought that he was dead, for they left him alone and he struggled to get up. As he stared at the sky, his brain raged through different scenarios. Mainly the outcome if he won. For he knew he could not think of death now. He had waited his entire life for the chance to lead to, show that the Islands could adopt and change. If he simply accepted that things were as they were, then he might as well die now. He got up, his sword propping him up. He looked around and sighed. The fighting was furious, there were men killing those who merely moments before had been their friends. He shook his head and joined the fray once more.

Another smack to the chest and blood came out of his mouth. They did not fight with helms on did the Ironborn and as he wanted to be respected, neither did he. Yet as he took another blow and ducked to avoid his head getting smashed in, he started thinking that perhaps doing that would not be such a bad idea. He took a third blow and staggered forward, his sword was somewhere, but he pulled out a dagger and plunged it into the man's neck. He staggered backward and moved on. He could tell that his body was going to cave at some point, someone was going to do something and then he would be finished. Briefly he recognised his uncle's body staring up at him but not seeing him. his uncle was dead. That meant his old aunt was the Lady of Ten Towers, but she was without children and therefore his mother and really he was the new Lord of Ten Towers. He would need to write to the King about that.

He laughed then, the King? What would the King care about a desolate pile of rocks? That was how the Greenlanders saw the islands. He knew that from how the Starks had talked about his home. Oh they'd been polite and all but he had seen it in their eyes whenever the islands got mentioned. They held severe contempt for the islands and for the Ironborn and that was something he couldn't forget. The King listened to the Starks, but just like his father he did not listen to the ironborn. No King had, not since Harren the Black. They were always left to fend for themselves. Always left to fend for themselves. Perhaps that was why his father had rebelled. Or perhaps his father was an idiot. Theon sighed, things were just too complicated to really truly make sense of anymore. He swung and the enemy died. This was pointless killing his own people for what?

He did not know. He kept fighting, his body did not know what else to do. What else could a man such as Theon Greyjoy do? He'd been born to fight, born to kill, born to lose, he could not live and win. That thought did not enter his mind. He had already killed many of his own people, and for something that he did not quite understand. His uncle had a lot of explaining to do. If the man ever bothered to show up. Theon Greyjoy continued fighting until the enemy had thrown down their weapons and surrendered. Then they gave the dead to the sea.