299 AC (Same time when Ned sent word to Robb)
Stannis Baratheon
He was glad that Ser Davos was once again with him in King's Landing. He would not have any other person with him now. Yesterday, he had met with the Lord Hand and Lord Arryn to finalize their plan on what to do with the Lannisters. Now, he was fulfilling that plan. Behind him marched three dozen crossbowmen. He had been befuddled on how to capture the Kingslayer alive, until Ser Davos, once again his savior, had a genius thought. He had two crossbowmen stand side-by-side. He then tied a rope between the two shafts. Then they would fire at the same time. It was risky, and many were sure to miss, but those that did make their mark, could trap the victims arms against a wall, or even trip them up a bit.
They simply could not afford to allow the Kingslayer to use his weapon in close quarters. But enough of that. Now was the hour, the time where maesters would look back and see the beginning of the coming war. It was just after the noon meal when the Lord Hand had given the word. So there he was, marking with over thirty of his men, down the halls of Maegor's Holdfast. Outside, stood Ser Meryn Trant, a worm if there ever was one. He was glad that Lord Stark had Ser Boros and Mandon guard a mock small council meeting.
Ser Jaime was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was within the very chambers. Ser Meryn, the fool that he was, began walking towards them.
"Lord Stannis? What is the meaning of this?" The man barely had time to raise another opposition as Stannis grabbed the worm by the neck and quickly slashed his throat with his dagger.
"Move it, it will get in our way." He motioned for two of his men to clean the hallway. He was thankful that the hallway was wide enough to fit a dozen men, shoulder-to-shoulder. He made sure to lower his voice. "Men, get in position."
A dozen of his crossbowmen stood in pairs. After ensuring the men were prepared, he unsheathed his own blade and cleared his throat.
"Ser Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, come out of the chambers now!"
He waited. And he waited some more. He was about to speak once more when he heard some crashing and curses from within. Finally, the door opened and the Kingslayer walked out. He wasn't in his armor, but he still had his blade around his waist…and his hand laid on it. The Bitch soon walked out too, with a face of fury on her ugly jowls.
"What is the meaning of this?!" The Bitch shrieked. It took effort not to wince from the tone.
"Ser Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, you are hereby ordered to surrender yourself into my custody immediately!"
"You forget your place Stannis." The Kingslayer growled.
"That's 'Lord Stannis' from you boy, and if I needed a reminder, I certainly wouldn't ask a sisterfucker such as yourself." He almost let out a very 'non-Stannis like' giggle at the face the two traitors made.
"How dare you! I am the Queen! The King shall here about this now! I shall have your head for making such accusations!"
"Oh do shut up, Bitch." His men looked at him. He was the ever-solemn Stannis, but this felt good, this felt right. "You have committed treason against the Realm and against your King." He raised his sword and held it out. "Surrender now, and I promise that you shall be treated well."
"Jaime! Kill them! Kill them all!"
Just as Ser Jaime reached for his sword, the first pair of crossbows fired. They missed. Damn. Then the second pair fired. The Kingslayer dodged just in time. The next pair fired. It his left arm but the rope broke. Now it got tense. Soon, there would be no more time. Finally, a pair decided to be smarter.
The next two bolts aimed for the Kingslayer's legs. One of the bolts implanted itself in the ground…and the other right in his foot. The sweetest scream pierced the air.
"Again! Aim for his legs!" The next bolts peppered the ground until another bolt tangled itself in the same leg. The Kingslayer faltered for just a moment, but it was all he needed. "Seize him!"
Half a dozen of his men charged forward. On two of his legs, and one hand, the Kingslayer still swung his blade. He killed two of the men before the rest were able to pile on top of him.
"More! More men! Take no chances. Bind his arms AND feet. Cross him with chains and as many locks as needed!" The Bitch still stood before she ran back into the chambers.
"You two, follow me!" He ran after her with his men in tow, the Kingslayer screaming at him the entire time. He bashed through the door and found the Bitch grabbing a blade from her nightstand.
"Stop! This instant! My father shall have all your heads for this!"
"Oh really? The ravens flew yesterday. The Stormlands shall side with the King. So too the Vale and the North and the Riverlands. The Crownlands will march with us as well."
"And yet my father shall bring the might of the West and the Reach down upon you!"
"Ha! You truly are the stupidest Lannister there ever was. You know, I almost admire your father, and what did you do with his lessons? Squander them, as you have always done. You are a tired, annoying, angry, mad, obsessive bitch of a woman. Nay! That gives mad women a bad name! You are a shrill creature, the Seven shall curse your remains until the end of time. What do think the Reach will do when the learn that the King's wife and children are all illegitimate? I hear the Rose of Highgarden is a fare lass."
The Bitch screamed and charged at him with a dagger drawn. He quickly sidestepped the woman, grabbed her wrist, and yanked the blade from her hands before slapping her.
"Seize her. Bind her just as securely." He turned and began a light search of the room. The Bitch was not as smart as her father, which meant that she was sure to leave evidence behind. If only she left a letter, or a diary, or…anything. He knew it, Lords Stark and Arryn knew it, but if they could show proof to Tywin Lannister, the entire war could be avoided.
Tywin Lannister was not a mad dog. He was brutal, ruthless, and ambitious. But he was not mad. He had ordered terrible things. But they were always for a purpose. He was not a cruel tyrant. As Lord of the West, the Westerlands have not seen such prosperity in centuries. Such achievements cannot be made from mercilessly killing smallfolk. He had to grudgingly admit that his tenure as Hand, even during the rise of the Mad King, was a golden age for the average Westerosi.
He would no doubt raise his armies once word got out, but if he had indiscernible proof, then even he could not deny is, not against the might of the other kingdoms. He started to mill around the room, checking cabinets and drawers.
Gods let there be proof.
Tywin Lannister
"Lord Tywin! Lord Tywin!" He could hear the distant shouts coming from outside his solar. Soon enough, he heard voices with the guards before a knock on his door came.
"Come!"
An acolyte of the maester came in. In his hand, he held a scroll. "Lord Tywin, word from King's Landing!"
Reaching out, he accepted the message before giving the acolyte a glare. Hearing a whimper, the small man soon ran out of the room, the door closing behind him. Looking at the seal, he recognized the two stamps. A red one, marked with a symbol of the Hand of the King, one he knew quite well, and another, a grey wax with a wolf stamped into it.
Eddard Stark.
The Lord of the North was a foolish man, one caught in the promises of honor and respect. The only amount of respect he would give the northerner was his battlefield ability. His mind for the great game was nothing, but even he would rig the battlefield should he have to face the Northman.
Using his thumb, he cracked open the seals and unraveled the letter.
Tywin Lannister
Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West, and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands
Lord Tywin Lannister. It is with great sadness, and suspicion that I write this missive. It has been discovered by Lord Stannis Baratheon, and Lord Jon Arryn, that a great treason has occurred across the realm.
Your children, Jaime and Cersei, have committed the unimaginable, and laid with one another for years. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are not of the King's seed. Word has been sent to the realm of this news.
I, as the Hand of the King command, hereby order you to present yourself in King's Landing to answer for the crimes of your children.
Eddard Stark
Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North, Hand of the King
"Damn him. Damn that man. Damn, damn, damn, damn!" He stood and walked over to the door, trying with all his might to not punch the wall. "Guard. Fetch Ser Kevan, I have need of him."
He didn't bother to stay and hear the man walk away, people would obey his commands, or they'd be people no more. He turned around and gazed at his solar. It had once been his father's. His fool of a father. Tytos Lannister was an embarrassment to the Lannister name. Had he loved his father? Yes, perhaps. But he did not respect him, no one did. When the Reynes and the Tarbecks had refused to pay their debt back, it had been the last straw for him. What he did next would be the crowning achievement of his lordship, an accomplishment that would stand the test of time, in the same way that the Conquest, and the Age of Heroes is discussed.
He had already poured himself a chalice of wine during his thoughts, when he heard a knock on the door before it swung open. "Kevan, good. Read this."
His brother accepted the letter from his hands. It was too soon when his own eyes went wide with shock. "He dares!?"
"Yes, which is the most troubling part."
"What do you mean Tywin?"
"Read who it is from."
"Yes, I saw, Eddard Stark."
"Yes…the great Eddard Stark…infamous for his honor."
"What do you mean Tywin…surely you do not mean to agree with this. Jaime and Cersei would never do this."
"No…but I cannot deny Lord Stark this once. If he has written this, then I believe it to be one of two things. He truly believes it, in which we are in trouble, as…well I won't imagine that. The other possibility is that he has been convinced by Lords Baratheon and Arryn."
"Well it won't matter, as long as the King does not believe it, if we can prove that this is folly, then this will not be an issue."
"Yes, but he would sooner spite Cersei then assist her. She has taken none of my lessons. Baratheon loved Lyanna Stark, and my daughter of mine hasn't even tried to replace her."
"You…you seem like you are considering believing it."
"Never! But we must be smart about this. Call the banners. I want thirty thousand Westermen ready to march by the fortnight. I want another ten thousand raised in the next month and a half. Go, send word now. If this must be resolved through blood, then I'll be damned if we do not strike first."
"Where would we hit first?"
"In the battlefield of Westeros. The North, Vale, and the Riverlands are sure to side with them, so we'll take the rivers from them. Split them until they cannot come together. Enough questions, you have your orders, go, go now."
His brother bowed before turning and leaving. He thought back to a distant conversation, one he had with his dear wife many, many years ago. She had begged to separate Jaime's and Cersei's room from across the Rock but would not tell why.
No, it can't, it wasn't. I shan't believe that.
Ser Barristan Selmy
He had enjoyed the sojourn the King had taken to his ancestral seat. It was quieter, less smelly, and less sycophantic. That being said, it may have been the blessing for His Grace as well. Oh he still feasted and laid with whores, but it seemed his mission to teach young Renly how to be a 'true' man seems to have assisted him as well. He was still a wide man, but he had surely lost a little weight at least. It appeared that without the presence of the Queen, His Grace became a different man.
But enough of that. He had joined the King and Lord Renly on a hunting trip, their goal? A great stag that had been spotted on the yesterday. With him was his sworn brother, Ser Preston Greenfield. A short man, blonde of hair as well. Along with them was of course Lord Renly, Ser Brus Buckler, Jon Errol, the nephew and heir to Lord Sebastion Errol, Lord Harwood Fell, and Gerron and Cedric Mertyns, the twin youngest sons of Lady Mary Mertyns. Ever since Robert took an extended visit, many Stormlanders sent men to represent them.
But the party had finally closed in on the kill. The royal huntsmen had tracked the beast closely and they were not but a couple dozen yards away. They were all quiet, the loudest thing was the breathing of the king. Renly was given a spear, both prowling closer. So close.
"Your Grace! Your Grace!"
The party looked behind him before some looked back, the stag having run off by now.
The party watched as a rider ran at full gallop. "Your Grace!" The rider galloped nearly to the party itself before leaping off the horse. He was running trying to get to the king before he and Ser Preston stood in his way.
"Damnit man! We almost had the bastard!"
"My king-"
"What is it? What requires you to ruin my hunt?" The rest of the party, minus the Kingsguard, also looked with disappointment and anger.
"Your Grace." The man seemed to disregard the anger of the king, not an easy thing to do. "A raven from the capital! Treason! Treason! Ser Cortnay has ordered me to send for you at once!"
The entire party mollified at the news of treason, but the king was still as hot and angry, though directed elsewhere now.
"Let's go, go! We ride for Storm's End!" Speak what you will about Robert I Baratheon. Some called him Robert the Fat, or the Great Fool. But he had not won the rebellion for nothing. Perhaps he was not a good king, but he was the warrior incarnate. When he had his mind on something, he was set in it. Perhaps he could not lead men from the Iron Throne or from the council chambers, but in the field, few could deny his leadership qualities.
The party had ridden hard for Storm's End. What shocked them the most was the amount of guards and men-at-arms there seemed to be. Every small holdfast and village seemed to be readying men.
But soon enough, they had ridden through the gates of the King's childhood home. Waiting in the courtyard was Ser Cortnay Penrose, Edric Storm, Maester Jurne, and Ser Arys. All of them bowed as he rode through the courtyard. Soon enough, the King was off his steed and he and strode up to the welcoming party. He and Ser Preston flanked the King.
"What in the seven hells is going on!?"
No one seemed to want to speak, but finally, Ser Cortnay held out a scroll. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the scroll had been sealed with a grey direwolf, and a red hand. Usually, a scroll from the Hand of the King bore the red hand alone. It was known custom however, that should a scroll bear the seal of both the Hand, and the personal sigil, it was an urgent message. His Grace grabbed the scroll roughly, so much so that Ser Cortnay feared it may rip.
He had seen the King annoyed. He had seen the King frustrated. He had seen the King angry.
This…this was something else. Such a fury took hold of the King that he actually sputtered and struggled to speak.
"That! That fucking! That gods-damned fucking! That fucking!" He didn't speak anything else before he drew his blade and bashed it against the ground.
"Your Grace?" Ser Preston asked fearfully.
"THAT FUCKING WHORE! I'LL GUT HER AND HER FUCKING SPAWN, I'LL SHOVE MY HAMMER SO FAR UP HER ASS, SHE'LL TURN INTO A FUCKING HAND PUPPET!"
The king threw the crumpled scroll onto the ground and marched over to the tiltyard. Grabbing a sword from the belt of a guard, he furiously swung at the dummy. The rest of the party were seemingly cowered. He looked at the four assembled before their party. All looked grim, even the innocent looking Edric Storm. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent down and picked up the scroll. Gently, he unrolled the scroll and read it through.
Robert I Baratheon
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm
Robert, I write to you with a heavy heart. Through the efforts of Jon Arryn and your brother, Stannis Baratheon, a traitorous plot has been uncovered. It has been discovered that Cersei and her brother Ser Jaime, have engaged in incestual relations. Moreso, it seems that they had been engaged in such treason for many years. I am afraid to report that Crown Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen have not a drop of Baratheon blood in them.
I have ordered them to be put under arrest. Cersei and Ser Jaime are currently being questioned. I have sent word to my son and heir, Robb to call the banners of the North. Jon Arryn has sent the same for the Vale and Stannis the same for the Crownlands. My goodfather will surely call his banners as well.
Because of this treason, your heir to the throne is your brother, Stannis Baratheon. Lord Tywin has yet to respond to ravens. Dorne is silent.
Call the banners Robert. I fear the realm shall bleed for this.
Eddard Stark
Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North, Hand of the King
His eyes went wide. He too grew angry. He had long wished for the Kingslayer to be expelled from their ranks, but it seemed the Kingslayer would not stop his treasonous life. His own hand shaking in silent fury, he extended his hand and gave the scroll to Ser Preston, who still stood confused.
But he knew Eddard Stark was right. Ser Barristan was no fool. A treason of this magnitude could only lead to one thing; war. Tywin Lannister will not stand by as his golden twins were arrested. He prayed that one of them would confess or proof could be found. He was an older man now. He had seen enough war.
But this. For this? He was prepared to fight one more.
