Hello everyone. I am so sorry I took so long to get this chapter to you. I'm still working WAY too much, add in writers block and the death of a close long-time friend and I've had very little time or inclination to finish this chapter sooner.
There will be a part 3
Please review cause I feel like I lost my touch in this chapter.
Chapter 38 – The eyes of Westeros pt 2
Small time jump
Dorne – Sunspear
Oberyn Martell entered his brother's solar feeling annoyed and wondering why he had been summoned. He had been in his favourite brothel with Ellaria sampling the latest imports from Lys when his brother's messenger had found him and informed him that Doran wished to speak to him urgently. He had gotten dressed and left Ellaria behind to enjoy herself. There was no reason why both of them should have their day ruined.
"Brother. You wished to speak to me? What is so urgent that it couldn't wait until dinner? I was enjoying some new company." Oberyn asked, annoyed that his fun had been ruined.
Doran raised his eyebrows in amusement. His brother was always "enjoying" new company. When he was home in Dorne and if Doran wished to find his brother, all he had to do was send his men to the nearest brothel and it would be a fair chance he was there.
"Areo, leave us please. Make sure no one is close enough to hear us." Doran instructed his most loyal guard.
"As you command, my Prince." Areo Hotah left the room, securely closing the door behind him as he went.
Oberyn raised his own eyebrow while glancing at Doran in surprise. Areo Hotah was Doran's most loyal and trusted guard and confident. He had been there when they swore revenge against the Lannister's and the Baratheon's for what they did to Ellia and her children and he had not only kept his silence outside the room but had also offered up a few suggestions where he could see holes in their plans, so for Doran to send him away to check for spies, meant that this was serious indeed.
Doran gestured for his brother to pour them both some wine and waited for him to sit down. Oberyn sat down after placing his brother's glass of wine in front of him and waited for Doran to speak.
"There have been some…strange developments happening in Westeros that may affect our plans for revenge." Doran started.
Oberyn frowned.
"What sort of developments?"
"We have been summoned."
"What?!"
"Robert summons us. We and the rest of our Ruling lords are commanded to come to him for a Grand Council." Doran told him, watching Oberyn closely for his reaction.
"Really? All our lords? A Grand Council? For what reason?" Oberyn asked.
"The reason for this Council isn't yet known but it's where Robert summons us too that is the interesting part." That caught Oberyn's interest.
"We are not summoned to King's Landing then? If not there then where?"
"Further north."
"Harrenhall?"
The venom dripping off the word would kill a dragon in its intensity.
"No."
"Stop playing games with me Doran and just tell me." Oberyn demanded of his brother.
Doran smiled.
This should be interesting…and amusing.
"Winterfell."
"Winterfell?!"
Doran laughed as Oberyn's voice rose so much that it rivalled his young daughters' in pitch.
"Yes. Winterfell."
Oberyn was genuinely stunned. The only time the King ever left the Red Keep was to go hunting in the Kingswood and he almost never left the Crownlands, so why was he summing them to Winterfell which was as far north from Dorne as one could get.
"Wait, you said Robert summoned us and all our ruling lords? Is this summons just for Dorne alone or are the other Kingdoms included in this?"
"From what the letter said, all the Lords of the Great Houses of Westeros are summoned to Winterfell. The minor houses haven't been summoned. The King's Peace will be enforced by the hosting House, which is naturally House Stark. We may bring twenty soldiers and two personal bodyguards. I suspect the number of soldiers is being kept down in order to keep bloodshed to a minimum considering that old feuds are bound to pop up and new ones will be created." Doran chuckled. Oberyn joined his brother in laughter.
"I'll say. Old Ned will have his hands full trying to deal with the feuds of the Dornish Lords alone."
The brothers laughed harder.
"Seriously though Doran, do we know anything about the reason for this?" Oberyn asked him.
Doran looked at his brother thoughtfully. He had some idea of why this council was being called and if it was true then everything they had planned would be in ruins but this was bigger than revenge. If what he heard was right then in order to be able to extract their revenge, they would have to survive what was coming first. He just didn't know how Oberyn would react to this.
"I have heard something. Apparently, Robert just up and left King's Landing a while ago. He took with him Stannis, Ser Barristan, the Kingslayer, Myrcella and Tommen along with a guard detachment. I also heard that Stannis has summoned his daughter to Winterfell as well. Apparently he told everyone he was going to Storm's End, but that was a ruse. Now my sources in the Red Keep tell me that he hadn't received a raven from Eddard Stark nor did he send one to let him know that he was coming. From what I can tell, he just woke up one morning and decided to leave for Winterfell. And that's another thing, they also told me that Robert's behaviour has changed somewhat. He's still drinking and eating excessively, but he's stopped whoring and has actually been ruling his Realm."
"Alright but this doesn't explain the Grand Council being called."
"My sources in the North have sent me information but, to be honest, I'm not sure if I should believe them or not." Doran said.
"What do you mean Doran?"
Doran sighed and decided to just spit it out.
"According to my sources, the Others have returned. Two of them were at meeting between the Wildings and the Northern Lords where they were presented with a walking, hissing, snarling dead body with bright blue eyes."
Oberyn burst out laughing at the absurdity of the thought. He was still laughing until he noticed the serious look on Doran's face and coupled with the fact that he wasn't laughing, Oberyn suddenly didn't find the thought so funny anymore.
"You can't seriously believe it Doran! It is absurd!"
"As insane as it sounds Oberyn, I think I might. There are other things happening that make me think that this might just be the real thing." Doran confessed.
"Such as?"
"The Wildlings have been allowed to come south of the Wall to settle. They have been given free range of the Gift and are being treated as an independent nation given sanctuary. They are to obey the laws of the Realm and fight at the Wall and in return, they have their independence, within reason, and they don't have to kneel to the Iron Throne. They do have to answer to Winterfell though." Doran started to explain his reasoning.
Oberyn blinked in suprise when he heard that.
"They don't have to kneel to the Iron throne and they get to keep their independence? All in return for fighting at the Wall? That is a mighty concession for Lord Stark to give. Does he even have the right to do that without permission of the Iron Throne?" Oberyn said.
"Indeed it is and yes, apparently he can. I asked Caleotte to look it up. The Lord Paramounts have complete independence within their own Kingdoms, providing what they do doesn't negatively impact trade, the other kingdoms or the king's peace and while the Lord's Paramount ultimately answer to the Iron Throne, we are fairly independent of the Iron Throne within the borders of our own kingdoms. Now if the Wildlings wish to come further south, they would have to first come to some sort of accommodation with the Lord Paramount of whichever kingdom they head to and would have to kneel to the throne, as the lords south of the Neck are not as…independent…as the North but if what I've read is true, that won't happen. They value their freedom too much." Doran told him. He took a sip of his wine and continued.
"There is now what's known as the Winter Alliance Pact that had been signed by both sides. The specific terms of this Winter Alliance Pact are unknown but as I said before the main part of it is sanctuary behind the Wall in return for fighting the Others when they come. When that will happen is unknown but what is known is that they won't come south before winter had arrived. What you may find interesting though brother is who mediated this Pact."
"Oh and who would that be?"
"Tyrion Lannister and believe me, I was as surprised as you are. I had known he was in the North but had no idea he was there for that part of it." Doran watched his brother with caution. Oberyn was unreasonable when anything related to Lannisters became involved and while Doran hated the Lannisters just as much as Oberyn did, he was more controlled and rational about it.
"Lannisters! What was a Lannister doing in the North?" Oberyn hissed angrily.
"Making friends apparently. As much as I hate Tywin, I know that Tyrion is not his father and probably hates his father more than we do."
"He's a Lannister! They can't be trusted! Any of them! NOT AFTER WHAT THEY DID TO ELLIA!" Oberyn roared with rage.
"Calm yourself brother. I am fully aware of what they did to Ellia but I also know that Tyrion was but a child and had nothing to do with her death." Doran snapped, his sharp tone warned Oberyn to settle down or else.
Oberyn took a deep breath and calmed down although he still glared at his brother.
"We do not blame children for their parent's sins Oberyn."
Doran sighed as Oberyn's glare didn't abate a single iota in strength.
"Read this." Doran threw a letter down in front of Oberyn.
"It's from Sarella." He said in answer to Oberyn's questioning glace.
"She writes to her uncle but not her father? I must have words with that girl next time we meet." Oberyn jokingly complained.
"Just read it." Doran told him. Tiredness penetrated his tone.
Oberyn smirked at his brother and started reading his daughter's letter. The more he read the more surprised he felt. If what Sarella said was true, then they were sitting on an unstable barrel of Wildfire just waiting for the slightest spark to set it off.
"I did not see this coming."
"No one did."
Doran and Oberyn looked at each other in concern.
"If the Maesters are meddling in matters they should not, then what they tell us can't be trusted. That Sarella felt that she had no choice but to approach Lord Hightower and reveal herself to him, tell us that the situation is much more complicated than Sarella has written here. The Conclave is deliberately delaying releasing this information about a long winter. Why? To what end? What game do they play with the lives of the people? What else have they done? I am beginning to suspect they have been meddling in other things for a long, long time. You studied the skies when you were at the Citadel, can you confirm this Lewin's calculations that winter is coming?" Doran asked him.
"You sound like a Stark brother. I'll do some sky watching and see what's happening up there, but if Lewin has done the calculations then winter is indeed coming. He's one of the best out there. He should have been named Archmaester already but apart from a few, the Conclave don't like him very much." Oberyn told him.
"Why don't they like him?" Doran was curious.
"He asked too many of the right questions Why do you think they assigned him to Winterfell?"
Doran snorted. He remembered Oberyn ranting about the short sighted, narrow minded, small men of the Citadel.
"Would you like to reach out to my contacts in the Citadel? Find out what exactly is happening? You can be sure they can be trusted." Oberyn offered.
"Hmm, yes, please do so. We need information, without that, we are blind and deaf in who to trust among the Maesters. We can't afford to be blindsided by anything at this point." Doran gave his assent to Oberyn's offer.
"So, when do I need to be in Winterfell?" Oberyn asked.
"We brother need to leave soon in order to make it in time. It's the same for the other Dornish Lords. Get Caleotte to send out ravens to those Houses close enough to reach Sunspear by weeks end. We'll take as many with us as we can, as for those Lords further away, order them to travel directly to Winterfell. Oberyn, pick twenty of our best guards and someone who can perform bodyguard duties for you and Ellaria. Yes, I'm not so foolish as to think that you will leave her behind. Also, send word to Captain Silas to get the Sundancer ready along with two other ships. We may not need them but I'd rather be prepared." Doran gave his orders to Oberyn.
"You're going with us?" Oberyn asked, surprised that Doran was coming. His condition meant that moving caused him huge amounts of pain and a sea voyage would not be helpful.
"I must. The Game has taken a strange turn. We must be there from the beginning in order to have any sort of influence on events. This is more important than my pain" Doran explained his reasoning.
"Very well. With your permission, I'll leave and start carrying out your orders. Oh and I'll also visit the seamstress. We'll need warmer clothing…much warmer." Oberyn left his brother's solar with a smile.
"What new twists does the game bring now?" Doran mused to himself out loud.
"My Prince?" Areo Hotah asked as he slipped back into the room.
"Never mind Areo. Tell me old friend how do you feel about the cold?"
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The Reach – Highgarden
"Well, well, this is unexpected. Margaery dear, it seems you'll get to meet your betrothed sooner than we thought. King Robert has summoned House Tyrell and the Reach Lords to Winterfell." Lady Oleanna informed the room.
They were gathered in her personal sitting rooms when Maester Lomys arrived with the raven message baring the Royal Summons.
Lady Oleanna wonderer how much more useful the information young Samwell knew about the future would be now. It seems things were now starting to diverge from what it used to be. If she remembered correctly, according to Samwell, the last time, her family were plotting to put Margery on the throne as either Robert's Queen or Joffrey's, which according to Samwell, would backfire spectacularly, culminating in the almost mass extinction of House Tyrell. Willias had only been spared by the virtue of not being in Highgarden when the Lannister armies arrived.
"Well then Grandmother, isn't it a good thing that I've had the seamstresses working on clothing appropriate to the cold northern conditions ever since we received House Stark's acceptance of the betrothal." Margaery's melodic yet cheeky voice floated across the room.
Margaery had been surprised that she was betrothed to Robb Stark. She knew she had reached the age where betrothals were expected but she had expected offers from the Reach Lords for their sons and she knew that her father wanted her on the Iron Throne as Queen, but a betrothal for a Northern heir, even the son of the Lord Paramount, wasn't one she expected and wasn't sure she wanted until she had received a letter from Robb Stark when they had accepted the betrothal.
He had in his blunt northern way, explained to her that he welcomed the betrothal and that Samwell Tarley had told him much about her but he wanted hear from Margaery herself. He wrote that Sam had also told him about her good works in the Reach with the poor and orphaned and asked her if she would be willing do the same in the North. He told her little about himself but waxed enthusiastically about his family. He encouraged her to write to him and he would most happy to answer any questions she may have about him, his family, the North or anything else she wanted to know.
Margaery had been intrigued. She hadn't expected to hear anything from her betrothed until she arrived in Winterfell to be married and she certainly hadn't expected to receive a letter from her betrothed asking her to tell him about herself and her interests. She had decided to write back, reasoning if nothing else, being at least friendly before they were married would be a good basis for the marriage to grow upon. So she had written back a flowery letter, writing what she knew most young men wanted to hear from a young woman and sent it off.
She really didn't expect Robb's reply.
He had been scathing in his letter, criticizing her for being a shallow, vapid southern girl instead of the strong, independent woman Sam had told him she was. He told her that he didn't want a silly girl for his wife but a woman who was his equal in all things. He told her he wanted a true partner and companion like his parents were to each other.
He wanted a love match, not a political alliance.
To say Margaery had been stunned was an understatement.
She had run to her grandmother in distress and showed her the letter. Her grandmother had called Robb Stark a romantic, honourable, fool like his father but conceded that at least Robb was honest about what he wanted from her and that Margaery should take it as a lesson not to assume that all young men were the same. When she asked her grandmother what she should do, Oleanna gave her a disappointed look.
"Write back you fool and apologise for being stupid. Now, I shall give you the most valuable piece of advice you will ever hear and if you wish to rule as Lady of Winterfell and have a happy marriage, you need to heed it. Do not, are you listening to me girl? Do not play southern games with Northern Lords. Not only is the subtlety lost on them, you will gather more respect if you play it straight up with them. Now I'm not saying that you be completely honest with them, heavens no. That would be the height of stupidity for the North has its fair share of intrigues too, but to win the Northern Lord's respect, you need to show them who you are. They respect strength. Strength of character, strength of arms and strength of mind." Oleanna had told her.
"So that's why you insisted I start learning more than the self-defence techniques I'd already learned. You wanted me to know how to fight!" Margaery cried.
"Yes my dear. Women in the North need these skills in order to survive the harsh lands up there. Knowing how to kill a man is not that much different from knowing how to kill an animal. Both skills are necessary in the North. Besides, Eddard Stark's daughters are learning how to fight so why not you as well? The youngest girl is positively wild I've heard but the older girl, Sally? Sarah? Sansa? Yes, Sansa. Sansa is quite well known and admired for her skills with duel wielding daggers. Apparently she can be positively deadly while wearing a dress. Her mother brought her up with proper southern manners so she'll be a good companion for you."
She hadn't yet told Margaery about the coming war. The knife fighting lessons that she had passed off as a way to impress the northern lords, were actually for Margery's own protection from would be coming to kill all of them.
"Oh this is wonderful mother. The king obviously wishes to honour our dear Margaery by seeing her wed in front of the entirety of the Lords of Westeros. It shows his respect for House Tyrell and me of course."
Everyone in the room just stared at the oblivious Mace Tyrell in utter astonishment, confused as to how he had come to that particular conclusion!
Oleanna recovered from her astonishment only to feel a great deal of irritation. She grabbed her cane and stretched out, whacking her idiotic son across his shins, hard.
"Owwww! Mother!"
"Mace, I swear to the Old Gods and the New, you are the biggest idiot in the history of idiots! You should replace Butterbumps as our resident fool you bumbling moron! How did you get Margaery getting married in front of Robert from the announcement that King Robert summons all his ruling lords for a GRAND COUNCIL?!"
Oleanna wondered what she had done that had so grievously offended the God's so, to be cursed with such a stupid son.
"But Mother…"
"But nothing Mace! Honestly, you don't have the sense that the gods gave a goose. Have you even been listening when Lomys tells you what's going on outside of the Reach? There have been great moves in the Game. Moves by usually predicable lords have become unpredictable! Robert Baratheon left King's Landing under a cloud of confusion and misdirection by stating he was traveling to his ancestral home in the Stormlands in the company of two of his children and Stannis, when he was really making his way north to Winterfell and Eddard Stark, who for as yet unknown reasons of his own, has allowed the Wildlings to settle south of the Wall in the Gift? The Wildlings, who for thousands of years have been raping and pillaging in the North? Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would happen and now we are summoned to Winterfell?
This speaks of a great move in the game and when the dust settles, I predict that House Stark will end up in a pre-emanate position in the Game of Thrones which will now throw the whole Game into confusion as the North doesn't involve itself in the politics south of the Neck unless they have no choice. The simple fact that we are summoned to Winterfell and not Harrenhall, which is the most sensible location as it's centrally located in the Riverlands and has the capacity to house everyone who will be attending this Council without issue, show's that something momentous has happened, something that will be detrimental to all of Westeros if the rumours are anything close to being correct." Oleanna laid it out for her son. Oleanna knew the rumours were correct thanks to Samwell but Mace scoffed at the mention of rumours.
"Those rumours are ridiculous Mother! Only a child would believe them and a particularly stupid child at that. Everyone knows that Night King and the Others are just a northern myth, stories to scare northern children into good behaviour." Was Mace's scornful reply.
"Regardless father, King Robert has issued a royal summons, we dare not refuse to attend, no matter how ridiculous the matter is. If we refuse to attend without a good and valid reason, not only will we be at the mercy of the King's wrath but we would be considered oathbreaker in the eyes of the other Lords of the realm. We are sworn to King Robert, as all are." Margery intervened before her grandmother tried to murder her own son.
By playing on her father's ego and pride in his house's reputation, Margery knew that her father would do anything to avoid being in the Throne's bad graces. Mace gave his daughter a startled look and caved as Margery predicted.
"You are correct of course daughter. We shall attend his Grace as in Winterfell as commanded. Let it not be said that House Tyrell is nothing but loyal to the Iron Throne and his Grace, Good King Robert." Mace said in a pompous tone while striking what he thought was a grandiose pose.
Margery struggled to conceal a smile at her father's antics as his ego struck once again.
"Mace, go and tell Lomys to send out the raven to our Ruling Lords. They are to make their way here and join us or to make their way directly to Winterfell if that is more convenient for them. Make sure Lomys reminds them that they will need warm clothing. The North is constantly cold and I'm sure the pampered idiots of the south will suffer horribly there without the reminder to pack warm clothes. I myself will be suffering the cold much worse than they shall of course, but then again, suffering is the curse of the old. Oh well, at least I can complain about it as much as I please and no one will dare tell me to stop."
Margery was now smiling outright. No one would dare gainsay the Queen of Thorns. Her grandmother's reputation for having a tongue sharper then valyrian steel and being blunter then a mace tended to throw everyone off balance before they even met her much to her grandchildren's amusement.
As Mace scurried off to do as his mother bid, Oleanna heaved a heavy sigh. So it was starting and it looked like she owed young Samwell an apology. Although she had supported him in his endeavours to strengthen the Reach, she hadn't really believed him and while his story had been too ridiculous to be anything but true, Oleanna had been unable to fully accept what she had been told without some sort of proof but if Samwell's latest message was correct, Eddard Stark had the proof and was now prepared to show it to the world in order to garner the support of a united Westeros. What kind of proof Eddard Stark had, Samwell hadn't included in his message but Oleanna had her suspicions.
"Grandmother, are you alright?" Margery's question roused Oleanna from her musing.
"Yes my dear, I'm fine. I suggest you run along now and speak to the seamstress about getting our clothing finished quickly. Offer her whatever she needs in order to finish the order within a week. I want to be ready to leave at a moment's notice." Oleanna told her as she watched Margery's face settle into a frown.
"What is it?"
"My wedding dress, it won't be completed in time and they haven't started on the heavier, warmer maiden's cloak yet and half of my new northern wardrobe also hasn't been started. They have completed some of the dresses and other garments but not everything and some are still half made. If they need to rush to complete the family's order, I'll need to inform them to stop work on my wedding dress and the outfits they haven't started yet. I'll get them to complete the half made ones and I guess I'll have to get the rest made when we arrive in the North. I'll need to speak to the cobblers so the winter boots and shoes are ready to go with us. Come to think of it grandmother, will I be wed when we arrive in Winterfell? Robb and I are both of age or soon will be but with the Grand Council being held in Winterfell, would it even be appropriate? To have a wedding at the same time? Even one between the heirs of Paramount Houses? Margery asked her.
Oleanna frowned in thought. It was a fair and valid question.
"I'm unsure. I suggest that you bring the wedding dress with you we can finish it off on the journey north. That way, if the wedding goes ahead, we'll be prepared. I'll speak to Lord Stark on this after we've settled in. With so many Lords attending, Lord Stark won't have the time to do more than greet us until after the opening feast or even after the council has concluded. We shall see. In the meantime, run along and do as I've asked please my dear. I shall see you at dinner." Oleanna dismissed her granddaughter.
As the door closed behind Margery, Oleanna relaxed back into her chair, allowing the silence of the room to settle her upset nerves. She picked up her wine glass, holding it in her hands while she thought on what was to come and she feared that she wasn't going to be able to keep her family safe. The living she could predict, study them, learn their weak spots and the best way to manipulate them into doing her bidding but supernatural mythical beings? That was well out of her league.
She could only hope that the Starks and Samwell had some idea of what this being wanted and a plan to stop him from getting what he wanted.
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The Stormlands – Tarth
Lord Selwyn, Lord of Tarth, chuckled quietly to himself as he read the latest letter from his daughter. It seems that in addition to proving that she was one of the best in the yard with a sword, Brianne had also picked up some persistent would-be suiters. According to Brianne, they were respectful but just would not take no for an answer. They were constantly asking to escort her to dinner or for a walk or something but Brianne wasn't interested in any of them. She was enjoying her duties as Sansa Stark's sworn sword and reluctantly admitted that Sansa had even managed to talk Brianne into wearing a dress on occasion, mainly for formal dinners and feasts but still, Selwyn was amazed and impressed that young Sansa had managed to accomplish that much!
Leaving Brianne in Winterfell had been hard but ultimately the right choice. Brianne was thriving up there in ways that neither she nor her father had expected. Selwyn was happy that Brianne had finally found a place that accepted her for who she was. Selwyn had known ever since Brianne was a young child that she would never be able to conform to a traditional woman's role in Westeros. As her father's only surviving heir and lacking a mother's influence, she felt the need to prove to the world that she was just as good as a man in all ways. She would be a brilliant Ruling Lady in her own right but she still needed time and more lesson in the administrative and politics side of the role as Brianne had spent more time in the yard improving her martial skills rather than her lessons. Lord Eddard and Selwyn had spoken and Lord Eddard had agreed to have Brianne attend Sansa's lessons as Sansa would need to know how to run not only her eventual husband house but also rule his lands while he is away tending to other things, as requested by her betrothed.
Brianne's letter also confirmed that Robert's call for a Grand Council with the ruling lords of the Realm was an urgent one and that war was coming as they had feared. Selwyn may be old but he was neither blind nor stupid. Some careful questions while still in the North had confirmed Selwyn's initial impressions that there was tension in the North and it wasn't because of the Wildlings.
The North was preparing themselves for Winter and War.
Selwyn had asked Brianne to keep him informed as to what was happening when he had left Winterfell and she had told him what she could within the bounds of her oath of service but with what she had written to him it was enough to make him worried not only about his daughter's safety but the rest of Westeros also and he had quietly been preparing Tarth for war.
He sighed and wondered if Renly would be attending the Council. As Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, he would be required to attend but in his positon of Master of Law, he might be required to stay behind. It all depended on if Robert wanted his entire Small Council in attendance or not. Someone would be required to stay behind in order to rule Kings Landing and rule in the King's absence but who it would be, Selwyn had no clue.
He sighed again. Renly, while being a charismatic and friendly person, was a horrible Lord Paramount. Renly had spent all his time since becoming Lord Paramount in King's Landing and while he had appointed Ser Courtney to run Storm's End in his absence, he had not appointed anyone to rule the Stormlands. As a result, the Stormlands were a divided realm, each Lord doing whatever it was he wanted without fear of reprisal. It was a mess. At least three houses were feuding over land, another two houses were embroiled in a war over the foolish choices of their children and no one was making sure the roads were patrolled. As far as Selwyn knew, there were at least four bandit groups making life difficult for the small folk and travellers on the roads.
It was completely unacceptable to the old Lord and he was not alone in this. He and Houses Swann, Connington, Lonsmouth, Selmy and Estermont had been on the verge of sending out their men to restore some sort of order to the Stormlands, but now with this summons, it was a necessity. They couldn't leave the Stormlands in such a state while they attended his Grace in Winterfell. Robert would enquire of his lords as to how the kingdom of his birth was fairing and would be angrier then a nesting mother dragon if he found out they had let bandits roam free.
There was a knock on the solar door. Selwyn called for the person to enter.
"You called for me my Lord?" asked Ser Fredik Smail as he entered the room.
"Yes Ser Fredik. I need you to organise a honour guard of twenty men along with two men to act as personal bodyguards. I also need you to prepare the ship for a voyage back to the North. It seems that King Robert has the need for the council of his ruling Lords. As you leave, please send for Pater. Thank you Ser, you may go and attend to you duties." Selwyn issued his orders and dismissed his knight.
As he waited for Pater to attend him, Selwyn just hopped that he and Brianne would survive whatever was coming long enough for Brianne to give him grandchildren.
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The Iron Islands – Pyke
Balon Greyjoy was seething in anger.
Receiving Robert's summons to Winterfell for the Grand Council had sent him and his council grumbling over the fact they had no choice but to attend but it was the note from the King himself that had set Balon's legendary temper off.
"How dare he?! That ignorant Greenlander goatfucker has the nerve to threaten and insult ME?!" Balon hissed in rage.
Yara gingerly grasped at the note that had set her father's temper off and once she read it, she understood her father's rage and shared it.
Greyjoy, you will attend this council without fail and you will tell your people to stop raiding for the duration of this council. If you don't comply with my orders, I WILL come back and finish what I started all those years ago and this time I will KILL you, your heir, your daughter and anyone else who shares your name and blood you fucking squid!
Get your ass to Winterfell NOW!
Robert Baratheon, KING of the IRON ISLANDS!
Ouch!
Yara winced at the…it wasn't a threat, not really, it was definitely more of a promise of dire consequences if her father disobeyed the Kings direct command, that alone would have set her father's temper off but the fact that Robert had bluntly reminded Balon that he was only the Lord Paramount and had to answer to the King, set his already burning anger into a towering inferno of wildfire.
"The King is honest, I'll give him that. Not very subtle but still, it could be worse. We'll need to leave soon in order to get to Winterfell in all haste as the King had commanded. Are you going to be a stubborn bastard and defy the King, therefore getting your whole line erased from history or will you be sensible for once and do as you're told?" Lord Rodrik Harlaw, Lord of Ten Towers asked his brother by law. He hopped that Balon listened to reason for once and just complied with what Robert was asking him to do. The last time Balon had defied the Iron Throne, the Ironborn were lucky not to be razed from the face of the planet and Balon wouldn't be so lucky a second time if Robert demanded his head.
The heat from Balon's glare could boil the oceans dry but the Reader didn't care. He matched Balon's glare with one of his own, refusing to back down first.
"How dare you?!" Balon hissed again, his rage so great, that it rendered him incapable of saying anything else at the moment.
"I dare because I refuse to suffer for your stupidity again Balon! By the Drowned God, the last time you defied Robert, I lost my wife and sons to your idiotic war! I will not support you nor suffer in such stupidity again. House Harlaw will attend the Kings command and travel to Winterfell. I suggest you do the same my Lords unless you want Robert knocking on your door with rest of Westeros at his back?" Rodrik snarled at Balon and the other attending Lords.
Silence reigned in the room.
Rodrik's lips curled up in disgust as he looked at his fellow Lords.
"Very well, on your own heads be it. I wish you luck with Robert when he comes to kill you all. Yara, I suggest you don't follow in your father's stupidity and come to Winterfell with me. If your father doesn't attend then Robert will follow through on his threat but if you come with me, he may just accept you as your father's envoy and leave it at that. It's your choice. I leave on the evening tide. You have until then to decide niece."
And with that, he washed his hands of them and walked out of the room.
Yara looked at the closed door that her uncle had just left through and then looked at her father. She was conflicted. She knew her uncle was right, she needed to attend the Council. Something major was happening and Robert wouldn't call a Grand Council unless it was damn serious but she also knew her father and was worried that if she left, Balon would do something incredibly stupid if she wasn't there to try and talk him out of it. The need to both stay and go tore at her loyalties.
"Go."
Yara's head snapped around in surprise. Aeron "Damphair" Greyjoy, brother to Balon, uncle to Yara and Theon, leader of the Drowned Men, stared back at her, his face stern and unforgiving.
"What uncle?"
"Go. Join the Reader. Your presence will be necessary in the North. You have a task to do there. Go, the Drowned God wills it so." The Damphair's pronouncement brought a shiver down Yara's spine as she sat there staring back at her uncle.
"She will not go! I forbid it!" Balon finally regained control of his voice, challenging his brother's command.
The Damphair just stared back at Balon, his face cold, hard and still unforgiving.
"The Drowned God wills it. She goes." He announced once again.
"No she doesn't!"
"Uncle I…" Yara's eyes kept flitting from her father to her uncle
"She goes and that is the end of it. Yara, go now."
"Uncle…"
"GO" The Damphair snapped at her, the full weight of his authority as The Drowned Man erasing her hesitation on the matter.
Yara nodded her head and rose from her chair.
"Yara, you will stay! Sit your ass down now!" Her father snarled at her as if she was a dog and not his heir.
"I'm sorry father, but the Damphair has spoken. I'll represent the Iron Islands and send you regular reports as to what's happening if you choose not to attend, but your heard the Damphair, it's the will of the Drowned God that I go." And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room to pack for her trip North.
Yara wasn't religious by a long shot but she knew that most of the Ironborn were and if she were to be seen spurning the will of the Drowned God, there would be problems later when it was her turn to rule the Islands.
Once again, silence reigned in the room.
The Lords of the Iron Islands looked at each other in silence conference and came to a decision.
"If it is the will of the Drowned God the we attend the Council then we will honour it. But I have a question for you Damphair, why are you so insistent that we concern ourselves with Greenland matters? Our domain is the seas and oceans, not the land." Lord Dunstram Drumm asked.
The Damphair silently look at each man currently sitting at the table, pondering on wether to tell them the full truth or not. They would most likely not believe him in he told them that it wouldn't matter if they were surrounded by ocean, the Night King would be able to freeze the waters between the mainland and the Islands and just walk his hordes of undead across the ice to slaughter them all.
There would be no escape.
"Well?" Lord Drumm asked again.
"You haven't seen what I've seen. Believe me, we will need the Greenlanders and they will need us to if we are to survive what's coming. Go to Winterfell my Lords. Witness my visions in come true in the flesh. War is coming and we'll not survive it alone."