Stannis III
The Small council meeting was barely an hour in and already - Stannis envisioned the collective necks of these lords, and even the king's throat in his hands… but he must serve and do so with his nephew's best interest in mind. Yes, that's how it must be, his own growing frustration was irrelevant. As a Hand and an uncle, it was his duty to serve, nothing more.
His frustration subsided and he returned to his normal state of mind.
It all went unappreciated of course, as he watched the evidently bored king, his legs stretched over the chair, hand on his chin in boredom. His gritted his teeth instinctively.
"Your Grace." Stannis spoke as diplomatically as he could, of course he would never soften his words, be it to his lowly servants nor to the king himself; for what use would he be then?
"This statue to the late King Robert will bankrupt the treasury, this we can confirm, and already, we're on the brink as it is. I have been meeting with lord Noho Dimittis of the Iron Bank, alongside Ser Tybolt." He nodded towards the knight, who nodded back. Of course, he himself was forced to do all the actual negotiating, the heir to Crakehall keep and the Master of Coin had looked as if the two were speaking foreign guttural Dothraki the entire time. The man knew nothing of economics, let alone basic mathematics, that was plain for all to see. It was humiliating.
Rickard was also meant to have been there and had assured him personally that he would be. Of course, with the Lady Rhysling having caught his eye, he had declined to appear at any of the week's meetings. An affront to the Banker was an afront to the Iron Bank itself, who had not taken the slight very well.
Was this what the court of the Seven Kingdoms had been reduced to? A Master of Coin who could not understand what a bank was, and in front of a foreign dignitary, with a king who could not bother to attend regardless of having given his word? It did nothing for the prestige and reputation of the Seven Kingdoms in the wider world.
Stannis continued his argument:
"Your Grace, as your Hand and honest advisor, I strongly urge you to divest in this project, as well as cutback on a number of expenses while we work to pay back the Iron Bank in full as was agreed."
Truth be told, Stannis would rather bed Selyse half a hundred times than having to endure another damned meeting with the dour Braavosi. When he had informed Ser Davos of his feelings on man, the smuggler had laughed for reasons he could not understand.
The king sighed, almost petulantly, his mood having been sour for the entire meeting. "And what would you suggest we cut back on, and how would we raise the assets needed?"
"We will raise more taxes" He replied without hesitation.
Stannis heard the moans and saw the eye rolling, but chose to ignore it, "Cancel any projects, such as Robert's statue, as well as cut back on tourneys, feasts and… your own personal spending, Your Grace. Including this one that you plan to host very soon especially." He said carefully as he could.
The king only gave a chuckle, "Raise taxes, angering my loyal lords and merchants, end the progress I've made to make King's Landing the centre of culture and life itself?" He slammed the wooden table with the palm of his hand, the impact reverberating, knocking the Grand Maester's cup of lemon water over, spilling onto the lap of the old man, who then muttered under his breath.
"You must be as mad as Aerys, Uncle." His nephew said with a laugh.
Rickard's face suddenly darkened slightly "My lord Hand, I do so question your judgement indeed. It is not my own spending, nor my projects that are the real issue, they will dazzle and inspire the world, it is a simple case of finding somewhere from where to seize wealth!"
Ser Barristan Selmy was the one who spoke up, as the Lord Commander he had a seat on the small council, "Your Grace, are suggesting we go to war?"
Rickard sighed, "Unfortunately, Ser, I must consider it likely to happen within our lifetime. Most probably, it will come to that regardless of what I do, though of course, I would not have it that way if I could help it. After all, as a man of mercy and a believer of civilization and reason, I don't believe in war for its own sake, merely when the realm and its people face the threat of danger, or for a truly just cause will we act. And there are forces plotting against me that may well make themselves known within our lifetimes." He declared.
King Rickard looked towards him for a moment with a sigh, he said nothing before looking back at the table, "Which brings me, my lords, to the question of the Targaryens."
At that, he gestured to a few white letters on his side of the table. The three were opened, though without signature. All had been handed to him by the Master of Whispers, concerning the two sole heirs to the Targaryen dynasty.
"So, they're truly looking to invade at some point in the future. What do we know so far, Varys?" his nephew almost spat the name of the Eunuch out as he spoke.
Stannis grimaced further at the moody young king. He had been in a sulky demeaner since that damned business with the Crakehall girl. Stannis preferred to keep out of the romantic drivel of his king, but from what he could understand, he had recently reconciled with the girl, and as such, preferred spending any time he could with her, over handling the business of the realm. Such deviance was unbecoming of a king in his mind. Even more so for a lady. The Rhysling girl had flaunted herself, while the Crakehall sought to act above her station, as if it was, she who'd be Queen when it would be Lady Arya Stark.
The simpering Master of Whispers, who only still lived as a result of his well-timed information some weeks ago on the Targaryen wedding to the Dothraki horse lord sat in light blue silks and slippers -seemingly unaffected by the King's clear open contempt for him.
"Only that they continue to venture to the East, Your Grace. Dothraki are said to do things on their own time and the caravan are heading straight for Vaes Dothrak in the Dothraki Sea. Very far from Westeros as it goes."
Rickard grimaced. The stag crown resting still on his head. The six yellow rubies at the front shining brightly with the sun gazing through the windows.
"You say that this… Khal, has a hundred thousand men at his command. If they decided to invade and managed to cross with Viserys Targaryen at the helm, how many houses are likely to join them?" he asked pointedly, eying all in the room, "I'm no fool, my lords, I know very well that there are those who consider my father a usurper, just as they do me at this very moment, that I have no right to the throne. Who am I to trust then?" he spoke. Piercing blue eyes looking at each man at the table.
Aside from himself, Crakehall and Ser Davos, that applied to the rest of the council.
"House Crakehall and all true and leal men in the West stand with you, Your Grace." Ser Tybolt spoke up at once. The man was a follower, without a hint of independent thought, and had said nothing regarding the incident with his daughter and the king. Most likely waiting on Tywin Lannister's instructions, he thought to himself.
Rickard nodded without a smile. But Stannis knew that did not answer the question.
"As your Master of Whispers, Your Grace, I recommend we keep an eye on Dorne. The Targaryens married into the Martells the last time around, and they may yet hold sympathies to their cause." Varys spoke.
"Lord Varys might speak true, and even the Riverlands are a potential spot for the Targaryens to gather loyal forces. Ser Raymund Darry lost many kin fighting for King Aerys. Ser Willem was the one who managed to take the two children away just as I took Dragonstone." Stannis himself added. He knew the histories of most houses, and House Darry had always fought suicidally to the last man for the red dragon.
"House Tyrell too owes its wardenship to the Targaryens. Their loyalty is not to be a guarantee either, Your Grace." Pyclle spoke up for what seemed like the first time since the meeting had begun, trying to maintain his dignity as his clothes were still damp and now sticky with the nourishment from earlier. "Might I… also suggest, that we ensure to keep reliable allies close by, Lord Tywin Lannister I would wager." The elderly man suggested.
Stannis raised an eyebrow, "Just as he was the Mad King's reliable ally that day outside the city gates, Grand Maester?" he questioned.
The man simply muttered away.
The king's mouth narrowed. A ringed hand resting on his chin. They all glittered on his five fingers.
"I'll be happy to let this Viserys, land. He can choose wherever he likes, and I'd be happy to meet him in battle, sword to sword." He pointed a finger in front, at no person.
"The last time the stag and the dragon met, the dragon died and sank under the flow of the river tide. Let history repeat itself between me and him."
"You're the king and your line is yet to be fully secure, Your Grace, better to leave the risk to more expendable men." Stannis advised.
Lord Stannis had never much been one for the empty gesture of glory on a battlefield. Many houses in the prime of their rule have died or fallen into ruin out of such prideful vanity, now he must deal with his nephew being made of the same substance. It made him want to grit his teeth even more than usual in these meetings.
"You imply I'd lose a fight with this beggar exile, uncle?" the king challenged.
"I imply that battle by its very nature is something no man can predict." He answered back swiftly. Stern and honest.
The room went silent. Rare was it that a king was questioned in such a tone, and all looked as if Stannis had openly demanded the damn throne himself.
He did not care; he had only given honest advice that was in the king's interest. He stood his ground, refusing to budge.
The king's face was unreadable – it was neither of fury nor of joy – he seemed to being going back and forth as to how he would take this.
Would it be chastisement or appreciation?
The dark-haired king gave a frown at first, but then, it morphed into a small smile.
"Honest as always, my lord hand. I know I can always depend on you for it."
Stannis, himself with a neutral frown simply nodded.
Business went on for some time.
With everyone gone, leaving just he and the king within the council chamber, it was the later of whom spoke first.
"How goes your role as lord of the Stormlands?" he suddenly asked.
Stannis stopped himself from clenching his fists.
"The situation… is progressing, Your Grace. I still await the pledges of allegiance as are owed to me."
An unsure look appeared suddenly, upon the normally confident face of Rickard.
"Uncle… what do you think of the Lannisters?"
Stannis knew meaning of this question. It would seem he had been too obvious in his opinions in the meeting.
His nephew's public relationship with the Crakehall girl was well-known across the Kingdom by now. It was dishonourable to himself, the girl, the throne and all the houses involved. The king was betrothed to lady Arya, and yet Tywin Lannister was still attempting to position his granddaughter as the queen.
"And honestly." Rickard said, "I require it. Of course, I would expect nothing less."
"I hold no love for them. I make no qualms about that, Your Grace."
"Why, have they done me or you or our family any harm? I sit upon the throne, and you are my Hand. partially because of them."
Stannis grimaced at that.
"They sacked a city under false pretences of being allies to King Aerys. There was no honour in such a move. Then Lord Tywin had the gall to expect a reward for such actions."
"But what have they done to us?" his king asked. Such a mindset was not right, men like Tywin Lannister ought not to be honoured. It should matter not if breaking a law or an oath was in your interests.
"Nothing, but who can say they will not in the future. If Lord Tywin can betray one king, why not another? I" He spoke carefully next, wanting the king to fully understand, as hand, he had a duty to advise the king to his best interests; he thought of how Jon Arryn would handle Robert, "be careful of lord Tywin, Your Grace. The Mad King did as much, for twenty years despite his hand's service. And today Aery's house remains in ruins."
"And I don't intend to." Said Rickard, "This betrothal father set up is wrong, all can see it for the farce that it is, not just me. I like the Stark girl not. You've seen it, she acts more beast than a lady, and the North is of no benefit. Why tie myself to them when I could have both Ceresa and the wealth of the Westerlands at my disposal? I'm also thinking of granting Lord Tywin the position of Master of Laws too."
"You have spoken to others of this?" Stannis asked. Though in truth, he knew the answer.
"Of course, as King I must consult with others to get a wider picture before considering a judgement. Grand Maester Pycelle agrees with me, mother too."
Stannis maintained a neutral expression, but took note to the dowager Queen, seeming want to make the Lannisters into allies.
A potential Hightower and Lannister alliance chilled him.
"Quite frankly, there is no point in considering, Your Grace. This betrothal to lady Arya has been made and cannot be broken by the law. It will be binding, and I would also suggest that you no longer delay in wedding the girl." As he spoke those last few words, Rickard rolled his eyes and rose from his seat. Body facing the wall. A scowl on his face.
Stannis gritted his teeth at the move, "Your Grace, the longer you delay, the more at risk you become. You must marry and secure the future of your line as soon as possible. It is unwise for a King to remain unwed for too long."
"Perhaps it is not binding after all. "The King stated with a measured tone.
That drew his attention, what was he speaking of? Are the laws that have bound the realms for thousands of years no longer sacred, do even kings hold the system in contempt?
"For some weeks now, The Grand Maester and I have spoken at length of a great many things. He says that, from his own personal investigation, he has found that a case could be built on the fact that the Lady Arya is not a suitable bride, and therefore, this betrothal would be nullified in the eyes of the seven."
"On what grounds?" he asked. Caught off guard by such an idea. Laws were laws and changing them at such a level was unheard of. And the lady Arya, aside from her savage nature, which was more due to her own childish notions, had committed no ill deeds as far as he knew.
His nephew looked on, a small smirk on his features.
"On the grounds that as king, having a wife with such pagan beliefs would be a violation of my role as defender of the faith."
"How can that be, Your Grace?"
The King stood up and walked over to the window.
"When king Jaehaerys overthrew Maegor the Cruel and reconciled with the Faith. He swore that if the Faith Militant laid down their weapons and they recognised that Targaryens were above the moral law of incest, as they are made different than other mortal men, that the Iron Throne, as well as pardoning all those fought against his uncle, he and all Kings after him would uphold and defend the Faith; it's institutions, Septas and Septons, and all Holy grounds."
He turned around.
"And as the defender of the Faith, my position and that of my future heirs would be… undermined, with a pagan for a wife and mother, for who knows truly what she would implant in the hearts of my children, future kings, to value demonic trees over the Gods?"
Stannis stared and took it all in. not fully believing what he was hearing. Had his nephew and the Grand Maester gone mad? As a man who had never thought much of the Faith, or the supposed goodness of the gods, this worried him. The personal beliefs of lords, ladies, kings and queens had not been an issue for hundreds of years.
"Your Grace." He spoke. "To dictate such measures would be unheard of." As usual, it was only with his honesty he could speak by.
The king seemed disappointed by his response.
"It is the truth. A pagan as Queen would be ill news for this realm"
Stannis grimaced, "Aegon the Fifth married Betha Blackwood, a follower of the Old Gods." He reminded. His own grandmother, and Rickard's own great grandmother was a product of that line.
His nephew opened his mouth, "And what happened? His son and heir married an insane common girl, and the children after him gave us the Mad King in turn. Is it not clear, for all the world to see that the period of Aerys was a divine punishment upon the realm for accepting such heresy onto the seat of the Iron Throne?"
"Your Grace, as your Hand, I cannot endorse such a move. There are too many unforeseen circumstances, and regardless, the girl has done you no ill. Her own Gods mean nothing."
"Did I ask for your endorsement, Uncle?" the king sneered, as he stormed to the door, almost slamming it open as the Kingsguard stood to attention.
"I plan to make my case soon before the High Septon and the Most Devout. You'll stand with me, Lord Hand, or I will find myself a Hand who is more agreeable, and there are many candidates."
He could only grit his teeth… none of this was right, nor could he do as he would always do, and look to the sacred laws and customs that held the realm together. If not the framework of the system he held as precious, what was he to…
No, his nephew is King, and the King must be followed, his own objections could not stand in the way of that fact. The duty of all men, high and common, was to serve their king.
If this was the path that must be set upon. He would obey and work to the best of his abilities in the King's interest, there was nothing more to it.
He curtsied before Rickard, who promptly left with a smile of acknowledgement.
"So far, we have received few letters of fealty, Lord Hand. We still write, your own seal, as well as the king's own, but there is only silence…"
Were Stannis less controlled, he would have smashed his fist against the marble table he sat at in his office inside the Tower of the Hand as he read the latest letter from Ser Axelle Florent back on Dragonstone, the final preparations for his family's journey to Storm's End ready to begin, but this recent news changed many things.
A temperamental king who will have the system that has maintained the realm in balance upended, thanks to the scheming of the Lannisters was enough, but now he had his own lords acting to undermine and demean his rightful authority on his own lands.
He was Hand but was also the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, just as he should have been the day Robert was officially crowned King.
But what use were these titles if almost none of his bannermen offered their allegiance?
They owed him their loyalty but had collectively chosen to ignore his calls for homage and oaths of fealty. As if he did not exist.
The list of lords who had was pitiful: Seaworth, Fell, Dondarrion and half of house Estermont, his mother's own house.
Seven Hells, even his own seat was currently acting uncooperative; the Castellan who had been installed by Ser Cortney Penrose, had sent only one letter, that he serves Renly, and Renly alone as the Lord of Storm's End.
House Caron had simply replied that they recognise the true Lord of Storm's End, what nonsense was this?
It was not a debate; it was his seat by every law and right.
Four measly houses. There were no men of honour it would seem.
He could only grumble and write that all men were to declare themselves or face judgement. For now, he kept the matter to himself.
He was the Lord Paramount and should resolve the situation on his own as it was his responsibility, without the King's aid. If a Lord cannot rule his own bannermen, he is no fit lord, as his own father had once said to him and Robert as children.
Disobedient lords had been an issue before and would likely be after him. Tywin Lannister's own father had been a feeble fool who laughed as he was mocked in front of his own court, leaving his own son to restore the Lion's reputation through blood and steel.
If needs be, he would gather an army and gain the obedience of his bannermen by sword point.
He placed the ink back in the pot, before ordering one of his new squires, the Velaryon boy, to give the finished letter to Pycelle for Dragonstone.
The pudgy silver-haired boy came and went. It had been decided that following the death of Robert, he would be the one to continue the heir to Driftmark's period of squiring, as well as younger Estermont boy, who would be the second member of that house who would be squiring under him, having previously knighted Andrew for his dedicated service. Rickard already having his own squires.
A creaking sound came around, young Alyn Estermont scurried inside, the sounds of footsteps following close behind.
His squire tried to speak quickly and with some measurement of dignity as he introduced the person or people who dared make themselves welcome in his chamber.
"My Lord, her Grace, Queen Lynesse, my lord."
And it was her, the Queen, along with her small retinue of sycophants. Flanked by both Lady Merryweather and Lady Crakehall, who wore the same silver dress as hers, albeit theirs was not anywhere as fine as the Queen's, though Lady Crakehall's came close enough.
As always, he rose and gave a bow of his head, expression not changing. His distaste for the Hightower woman was usual on an average day, but now it had slightly increased with her inviting herself in without any warning whilst he tried to run her son's Kingdom for him.
Lady Crakehall looked at him in a silent but clear contempt. He only gave a quick glare in her direction to which she looked away as his eyes met hers, this one may believe herself suitable and conniving, but he had seen it all before. The Myrish woman, Merryweather only gave an arrogant smirk. She ought to keep it to herself, her husband had been the one to smash in Robert's helm, and yet she acts without any clear shame about the matter.
"Lord Hand." The Queen's voice was gentle, but it had an air of sickly sweetness to it. He did not like it, nor would he ever.
Something was not right, the Queen did not make a habit of coming here, and she had taken the effort of traveling here herself.
Her fingers brushed over the table, "I request an audience if it does not inconvenience you so." Which meant in truth was an order he could not turn down.
Does she only seek to waste my time? what could she possibly want from him?
There was no clear way out, whilst tempting, it would be unwise to turn her down.
"Very well, your Grace." He eyed the others in the room, his own squires and her entourage who were mostly stood outside the open door. "Alone would be preferable." His face told her that would be the condition with no argument.
With a smile, she agreed, with a flick of her wrist, her ladies, guards and lords all left outside.
He looked to Alyn and Monterys, "You too." And they both went out.
As the door closed, the Queen took a seat.
She flashed a sweet smile, "How goes your work, Lord Hand?"
"Well, enough, my Queen. I do what is required of me."
"And your son and daughter?"
The question took him off-guard.
"There are no problems… my son grows and is healthy. Shireen continues to do well. As far as I can tell, everything is well."
Stannis decided it in his best interests to make no mention of his struggle to gain the allegiances of most of the Stormland Houses. He was no fool, if it had not spread yet, it soon would, but it would not do so by his own hand.
Stannis saw a flash in her eye, "Everything, my lord?"
He opened his mouth slightly.
"I'm not sure what you imply, my Queen?"
"You must understand, Lord Stannis, as a mother, I will always look out for my son's interests above all else, but I am also the Queen, and despite what you and others may think. I am no simple fool. Why are you so dead set on him marrying the Stark girl?" she ended the sentence with a look that seemed to be almost… accusing, as if holding him up for some imagined crime.
Stannis stared at her for a moment, perplexed, but maintained a neutral expression, "I don't understand, my Queen. It was King Robert's will, in front of the High Septon, who blessed the betrothal himself. By every law we hold dear. It must go through. There is no just reason to insult House Stark in such a way."
For a split second, Queen Lynesse's expression turned to one of distaste and visible hate, but only for a second, before it went back to a carefully crafted face of indifference. But her eyes remained like burning fires. She brushed back a flow of her silver hair. It smelled of some exotic fragrance that he could not name.
"Lord Stark went to speak to you just before he left, did he not?"
"He did."
She slightly tilted her head, "What did you talk about?"
The line of inquiry was making him irritated. Clearly the Queen was looking for something, some sort of admission for what he did not know.
Lord Eddard had simply desired he oversee the safety of his daughter, nothing else.
"Is that truly business of yours, my Queen." He spoke bluntly.
"As the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, it very much is." She responded in a noticeably sharper tone.
"You are the Queen mother, not the Queen."
The Hightower Queen did not respond immediately, nor did she appear happy with the truthful answer. An uncomfortable cover of silence overcoming them both.
Finally, after what seemed for ages, she did.
"I wonder my lord… you have crafted such an image of a man of rigidity and evidence for the law, and yet here you are. In short order, the Hand of the King, you have one of your own men, and a lowborn one at that, as Master of Ships for his grace. Had our previous Master of Coin's head mounted on the Traitor's Walkway not too soon upon taking office. And now you are Lord of the Stormlands having convinced my son to award you those lands. It would seem" she paused, "Quite a blatant climb to power. Though I must ask, Lord Stannis, does your ambition perhaps, extend even further than?" He barely noticed as she leaned in from her seat. Eyes staring directly into his, "Maybe to the Iron Throne itself?"
Stannis' expression turned to a grimace. He stood up straight from his seat.
The Queen or not, he would not have his integrity impugned.
"A false insinuation. If I am to be accused of treason, then I will demand evidence. Whomever has told you this, my Queen, they are liars and I will have words with whomever spreads them."
She looked befuddled, but he saw the true look in her eye. Despite the weak effort to appear innocent suddenly. As if the conversation they had just been having did not happen.
That in turn, infuriated him more.
"Treason, lord Hand? I said nothing of the sort."
The Baratheon did not buy it for a second.
"It seemed to imply as much my Queen. My loyalty lies with the King. I seek only to guard his interests and will continue to do so unless he decides I am not suited for the role."
Lynesse stood up from her seat and began to walk towards the door, as she went to open it, she turned her head back to him.
"Know this, my lord. My family's influence is wide and vast. To make moves to unseat it would be… unwise." The door was opened as two Hightower men-at-arms came to her side.
"Please do excuse me, Lord Hand." Her voice changed back to its lightness and playfulness. "I have a lunch with Lord Tywin Lannister. I cannot afford to be late. I hope we can talk again soon."
She gave him one last smile before she and the party departed from the Tower.
Stannis only stood there, fists gripped, and teeth clenched before finally sitting back down.