3rd Month of 300 A.C. King's Landing
King Tommen I Baratheon
His grandfather was dead, had been found dead lying face down on the council table, Tommen had been shocked and surprised when the word had come. He had thought his grandfather would outlive him, would outlive them all, and he suspected that all was not what it seemed. From what Pycelle had been able to identify, there was some substance within his grandfather's body that broken down his system, poison in other words. Tommen knew who many thought the culprit was, Prince Oberyn had not exactly shown that much remorse at Lord Tywin's passing, and yet Tommen did not think it was him, and there was some other game at play. Some other player, and he wanted to know who it was. Of course before he could do that, he needed to stop his family from tearing itself apart. "We are not going to summon Myrcella back from Dorne. There is not enough evidence to suggest that Prince Oberyn had a hand in this, to suggest that he did and to summon Myrcella back would be a dangerous and foolish move right now. No we shall wait and see."
"Wait and see for what? For that Dornish snake to bring down another one of us? He has an agenda and he knows that the more he can wound us the weaker he makes us look. He wants that Targaryen boy on the throne." his mother says.
Tommen runs a hand through his hair then, trying to keep his frustration at bay. "We do not even know whether or not that boy is who he claims to be. Besides, he might well not even make it to Storm's End. Lord Tarly has his orders, and he will carry them out."
"That is if he does not move to the boy's side. Tarly was a Targaryen loyalist during the rebellion." his mother says.
"As were all of the Reachmen during the rebellion mother. What is your point? That I call them all back or look at them with suspicion? If I do that, I will not be able to sleep at night and I might as well take Lady Margaery's head from her shoulders now and be done with it." Tommen replies.
"That would solve most of the problems we are currently facing Your Grace." His mother says emphatically. "It would make the most amount of sense to do. The Tyrell girl remains a direct threat the longer she remains alive. Get rid of her."
"If His Grace kills Lady Margaery then the Tyrells will revolt and half the realm with them. She has done nothing wrong, that we know of. No I say keep her alive and allow her to fester." His uncle Tyrion says.
"Of course you would, you want her for yourself." his mother snaps.
Tommen sighs. "Enough mother, Lady Margaery is under scrutiny and we have something over her that will mean that she does not move from her place here. There will be no scheming on her part, her grandmother has more sense than to try anything as well." he pauses a moment then, and then turns to look at his uncle. "You are now the Lord of the Rock uncle. As such there is much and more that you must do. I would send you back to the Westerlands, see to your affairs and when you feel they are in order, return, you are the new master of coin."
His uncle nods looking pleased. "It would be my honour to Your Grace."
Tommen is silent a moment and then says. "You also need to marry and sire children. As such I think it would be best if you married Alysanne Lefford. The Leffords suffered greatly during the war, and now we must take in their gold to pay of the crown's debts."
His uncle looks surprised at this, but merely nods his acceptance. Mother however, it seems does not. "And what about his whore?"
Tommen stares at his mother and then asks. "What of her?"
"Well are you going to allow him to take her?" his mother replies.
"The Lady Shae is to remain here for the time being. You are to spend time with your wife to be uncle. I do not want any trouble there." Tommen replies. Again his uncle nods, though there is a strange look on his face. Tommen ignores it and turns his attention to his mother. "As for you mother, it is time for you to marry once more. My traitor of an uncle has been spreading these foul rumours about you, and the best way to prevent them from coming into fruition is to have you marry and sire more children."
"I refuse to marry. I will not leave King's Landing." His mother says. "I am your mother, you cannot just sell me off, as if I am nothing more than chattel."
Tommen snorts then. "I am the king, you will marry who I command you to marry." his mother goes to protest and Tommen cuts through her. "It is either this, or you join the silent sisters mother. I cannot have you here causing problems for Sansa. She is the Queen now, not you."
His mother looks furious, and yet she asks. "Who am I to marry Your Grace?"
Tommen is silent, considering how to phrase this next sentence. "You have a choice here mother, either marry Willas Tyrell and become Lady of Highgarden, or marry Prince Oberyn."
"A cripple or a traitor, these are the two choices you would give me?" his mother asks disbelievingly. Tommen merely nods. His mother is silent a moment and then says. "I will go for the one whom I might be able to control. Willas Tyrell."
Tommen merely nods and then says. "Good." he pauses turns to his great uncle Kevan and says. "Uncle Kevan, you shall be my hand for the time being. I want you to find out as much as you can about Lord Varys and Lord Baelish."
His great uncle looks surprised but then says. "Of course Your Grace, but why those two in particular?"
"Because they are the two who I mean to completely destroy." Tommen replies.
Lord Robb Stark
He could not wait to leave King's Landing, he wanted to return home and to destroy those who had tried to break his home, he wanted to rebuild Winterfell, he wanted to laugh with Jon, and spar with Bran and Rickon. He wanted to do all these things and more. He wanted to have the chance to live his life, as a lord not a king. He wanted to do many and more things, and he knew that allying with Tommen Baratheon, the King of Westeros was the right thing to do, even if he did not quite like bending. It was hard to bend when once you had been king. Looking at the boy before him, Robb wonders how much he knows of that.
"Do not look so worried Stark." the king says, his voice light.
"Worried? I am not worried Your Grace, I am merely thinking that is all." Robb replies.
"Thinking? About what?" the king asks.
"The journey north, it will take some time to march back through the snow, and in winter men can get very hungry. I am trying to achieve many things here, and I do not wish to lessen them." Robb responds honestly.
The king looks at him a moment and then says. "Your lords have been fighting Snow and my uncle for some time now have they not?" Robb nods and the king goes on. "Then there is less of an issue here than there might have been. Unless, you are worrying about turning up after the fighting is done, and with men from the crownlands not the north."
For a boy, the king is quite observant, more so than Robb was at his age. He looks at the king a moment and then says. "Indeed that is one concern, but winter is here, and my men know how to fight in winter, but these southern men do not. I do not want to be perceived as an invader into my own home."
The king is silent a moment and then replies. "You won't be though. Surely men such as Lord Wyman would be running the propaganda for you, and making it seem like your return is the return of the glorious age?"
Robb considers this. "Indeed he might well be doing such a thing, but it is one thing for that to be there, and another for people to believe it. Northmen are very suspicious by nature, and I have been away for too long. I shall ensure my people are safe."
The king nods, then asks. "So tell me my lord, what do you make of Lady Margaery? Do you believe that she should be allowed to return home when the fighting is over?"
Margaery Tyrell, a confusing girl, she claims not to want power, and yet does everything she can to obtain it. Robb wonders at the king's questioning, but merely replies. "I believe that she is a valuable tool to have, Mace Tyrell is a man who is like to forget just where it is that he needs to be looking if you give him his daughter back. With the dragons back, perhaps it is time to remind him of your father's leniency."
The king looks at him, a smile on his face. "Well, when the time comes, I believe I have the perfect role for you. You are to be the new master of laws. Rosby is old and dying, and it is time we had some new blood in the council chambers." the king pauses a moment and then says. "Tell me Lord Stark what do you know of Lord Baelish?"
Robb considers the question, he senses that there is a reason behind this line of questioning, and so he keeps his face neutral when he replies. "I know that the man was a friend of my mother's when they were children, and I know he challenged my uncle Brandon for a duel for my mother's hand when they were but our age. I also know he served as master of coin on the small council. Why do you ask, Your Grace?"
The king sighs then. "Because the man has been spreading slanderous rumours about himself and your departed mother. He claims to have taken her maidenhead when they were children, and that he was the woman she loved. He has fled to the Vale, and I do believe he is poisoning your aunt, the Lady Lysa."
Robb feels anger begin to boil inside of him and he asks. "Poisoning her how?"
The king sighs once more. "The Vale has not been paying its full amount in taxes for some time, this is an oversight that Baelish allowed, and has cost us dearly. He furthermore, it seems has been spreading rumours about the role my family played in Jon Arryn's death, all lies of course. The Vale has been a troubled region as of late, and I intend to fix that."
"How do you intend to do that Your Grace?" Robb asks.
The king sighs and says. "I intend for you to go there when you are free from duties in the north. Go and speak with your aunt and make her see sense. And kill Baelish."
"Kill him? Not bring him back for questioning?" Robb asks.
The king shakes his head. "No, that man has caused far too many problems for the crown. It is time he got his just desert. See him dead, and you shall be rewarded for it." the king stands, and Robb stands with him. "I wish you safe travels on your journey north, and I am sure that you shall face little to no difficulties."
Robb watches as the king walks out of his room, he waits a few moments and then goes to the hidden door and opens it. He is not surprised to find the girl there, curled up and nearly asleep. "How long have you been hiding there?"
"A while my lord. My lady wanted to know what the king was going to say." the girl replies.
Robb looks at her and then sighing says. "Well know you know." He helps her out and then says. "Stay a while, if you will Desmera."
Outside Storm's End
Lord Randyll Tarly
The siege had been going well, it had seemed as though the castellan might actually bend, unlike Stannis had when the rebellion had been waging. Stannis Baratheon, a man with little sense, a man who claimed to be king, for greed or jealousy, Randyll was not sure, but he did not truly care. He knew there was one thing that needed to be done and that was to take Storm's End. Of course that was somewhat complicated by the fact that there was now another army wanting the castle. Aegon the pretender's army was marching toward them, and as he watched their banners flapping in the wind, Randyll could not help but laugh, the dragons truly had sunk low if they were sending this boy to lead their charge. His father had been a failure, and he would be as well. Those dragons always were.
Drawing Heartsbane from its sheath, Randyll raises the sword high into the air and roars out a command. He digs his spurs into his horse and sets them off, first at a light trot, his heart is beginning the dance it always does before a battle, Dickon is at his side, no son of his would dare ride in the reserve, and no true Tarly would either. The enemy is coming at them now as well, Randyll can see them, the boy in his father's armour, leading from the front that will be the boy's downfall leading from the front when he knows nothing of the terrain. His heart is beginning the ritual once more, moving forward, advancing, he sees men he has not seen in years, exiles, all of them, members of the company, and he smiles.
He digs his spurs in a bit harder, and advances the horse into a gallop, they are moving quickly now, Heartsbane weighs heavily in his hand, but he knows that today they will taste victory, to avenge the loss of his brother all those years ago. He will remove the boy just as he should have removed the boy's father. The crash when it comes is something that fills him with energy, he swings his sword, swinging with a ruthless efficiency that belies all else, he cuts men down to size, leaves them broken and bruised, he cuts them down and swings and slashes. Men fall to their deaths, broken, the foot are going to break, he knows that and he loves that. The only place he has ever been able to get anything done, the battlefield, his father spoke true when he said that Randyll was a born soldier, all those years ago, it seems so long, and so he swings his sword and revels in it.
The feeling of being alive, truly alive, is a rare one for Randyll, he does not know why, but fighting is the only thing that has ever truly given him any pleasure, and now, now it is the only thing keeping him alive. That and making sure Dickon knows how to be a Tarly, he failed with the first one, and he shall not fail with the second one. He cuts through the throng, keeping one eye on Dickon, making sure the boy does not stray too far from the plan that they created. He knows his son, and knows that there will come a time when he shall need to command the vanguard, but for the time being, Randyll is in command, and so they do it as Randyll wishes. He swings his sword, and watches as the blood continues to grow, there is blood on his hands, but he relishes in it.
Men fall before him, and Randyll laughs, he laughs at the absurdity of this all, he is fighting the son of the man he once pledged allegiance to, gods know where this is coming from, but the thought is not stopping. He continues swinging his sword, and watches as the sellswords fall to their deaths, broken by the efficient onslaught of his men and the army. They push forward, howling like beasts, breaking their backs, and hurting their enemies, Randyll roars another command and soon they are fighting even harder than they did before. It is truly something, the feeling of holding a man's life in your hands, Randyll knows his brother relished it, but he is not his brother, he saw to that, just as he saw to his brother.
The memory haunts him still, but now is not the time for that, reminiscing only makes him weak, and he cannot be weak, not now, definitely not now. He pushes through it all, swinging his sword, fighting like a mad man, he supposes he is, he is a mad man, but he does not know where to begin, or how to end it. He just goes on, swinging his sword, cutting men down, feeling the chaos of it all. Men are pushing around him, destroying themselves on their spikes, swords and countless other weapons. He is tired, so very tired, and yet he continues he swings his sword, and hacks away at the enemy before him, determined to end them and get to the boy. The boy is the key to all of this. Get him and this battle is over.
He hears a gasp, and turns to see a sword protruding from Dickon's stomach, and something inside him snaps. He cannot lose his son, his heir, he cannot. He roars, and turns his horse toward his son's attacker, and proceeds to ride as fast as he can. He swings his sword, killing one man and then another, and yet his son's attacker continues to evade him, he knows something is wrong, there is something else at work here, but he does not know nor does he care what it is. Instead he continues fighting, swinging his sword, and then the sound of thunder echoes, and Randyll looks up to see beasts approaching, just as one of them lets loose a terrifying sound, he feels something bury itself within him, and he looks down to see a spear protruding from his chest.