Robb POV: Twenty-Second Day of the Twelfth Moon, 299 AC
Robb Stark sat at the high table in the Great Hall of Riverrun. In his hand a letter offering peace from King Tommen. A King of four days. His brother had been a King of four days too, but Joffrey was dead now, leaving the Realm unstable. Many believed that both Highgarden and Storms End would betray the Lannisters but Robb wasn't so sure. Though the heir to House Tyrell had been killed they had more to gain by sticking to the Lannisters. Storms End, on the other hand, he was confident that Renly would betray the Iron Throne in favor of his brother for it was the only logical conclusion.
King Joffrey's killers were unknown. Queen Cersei in a fit of madness attacked the Tyrells believing they had killed her son. Some believed they had. Some believed it was Stannis. Some believed it was Varys' little birds and the body that was found wasn't his. Some believed it was a Northerner who had survived the purge within the Red Keep. Some even believed that his own brother killed him.
Robb wasn't sure what to believe and it didn't matter all that much to him. He folded the letter neatly in his hands, before speaking, "Send him in," A man opened the doors to the Great Hall allowing a man with a bushy grey beard inside. He had on a grey doublet with a black overcoat the sigil of House Seaworth sewn onto it. The badge of the Hand of the King was placed on his breast. His son walked beside him as several Baratheon guards from Dragonstone walked on their flanks. Ser Davos, the Onion Knight, stopped before the high table and nodded in Robb's direction, his green eyes scanning the many Northern Lords who looked upon him. From the studying eyes of Rickard Karstark to the jovial smile of Greatjon Umber and even the dead eyes of Lord Bolton.
The hall itself would be dark if it wasn't for the many torches that lined the walls and the Great hearth that sat at the other end of the room. Furnished rugs, skins of animals, colorful tapestries, and a great many hunting items decorated the room. It was larger than the Great Hall at Winterfell and was emptied of any Riverlanders. Only Northmen lined the tables filled with meat and mead and at the High Table Robb, his mother, Theon Greyjoy and his most important bannermen sat.
"Why are you here Ser Davos?" It was quite obvious why he was here, the art of politicking was not lost on Robb it was a queer thing and he did not like political intrigue but it was not lost on him.
"Stannis," Ser Davos began, "He is the one true King, your father is detained in the capital for speaking the truth of his legitimacy. Robert had no true children, Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella. They're all bastards born of incest." It did not take Robb long to accept the children were bastards the truth was written on their faces. "I ask that you bend the knee, and help Stannis to claim his rightful place on the Iron Throne."
Robb picked up the letter from Tommen and lifted it into the air his elbow still placed on the table. "This is a letter from Tommen. The King who is currently on the Iron Throne. He's promised my sisters returned to me while my father will be allowed to take the black. Why shouldn't I end the war now?" Ser Davos took on an inquisitive look and after gesturing for permission to approach he plucked the letter out of Robb's hands and unfolded it. He scanned through the words then grunted and walked towards his son and his son read it for him. After a moment though Davos responded.
"Your father was arrested for speaking the truth. Stannis will allow your father to return as Lord of Winterfell if you bend the knee."
Robb looked at his mother and saw a hopeful glint in her eye. In truth, Robb did not trust the letter from King Tommen. The events that caused the war were a mystery to him in truth. Like an unfinished puzzle. The day after Bran and his mother were nearly killed, Catelyn had called several men from Winterfell into the Godswood. She said that her sister Lysa claimed that the Lannisters had killed Jon Arryn and were attempting to kill her too. The Imp had hired a man to kill Bran in his sleep and now the Lannisters were in control of the capital.
The events still didn't make sense to him. Why would the Lannisters kill Jon Arryn? Why would the Lannisters want my brother dead?
Robb doubted the Lannisters were true to their word for their actions had not to show for it. "There is no way to prove the children's bastardy. Why should I believe they are what you claim?"
The Onion Knight took a step forward, "Robert fathered several bastards, all of them had black hair all of them looked more the man than the children bred by Cersei Lannister. I've never seen more reflection of the Kingslayer than I have on them. Jon Arryn knew of it and died for it. And the reason Stannis fled to Dragonstone. It's not his ambition to sit the throne it's his duty."
Robb leaned into his chair as he ran his hand through his beard, most of the pieces had connected themselves. Jon Arryn died because he knew of the truth and Bran must have learned something of it too. "Very well, Ser Davos, I shall discuss it with my Bannermen."
The Onion Knight nodded and turned to leave with his retinue close behind. The Greatjon quickly rose from his chair anger flushing his face. "The Lannisters killed Jon Arryn? I say we march on Harrenhal right now and show Tywin Lannister that the North remembers!"
His words received cheers from his fellow Lords before Rickard Karstark spoke up, "Them Lannisters take and take. They are never satisfied with the amount of power they have. I say we proclaim Stannis as the one true King and rally the Vale and Riverlands to our side! Just as we did during Robert's rebellion!" The cheers got even louder as the Lords banged their mailed fists against the table spilling wine and ale alike from their cups.
Maege Mormont spoke next, "The Lannisters will no longer rule the Seven Kingdoms! Nor their bastard spawn. It's about time that the Baratheons truly ruled. King Stannis is the only King I will bend the knee to!"
It appears the decision doesn't need to be discussed, Robb mused. He stood from his chair and spoke, "I've never met Stannis. But I've heard stories. After Robert's Rebellion, he was displaced from his rightful seat as Lord of the Stormlands. He was made Master of Ships instead of Hand as was tradition. And even when he was forced into ruling the small isle of Dragonstone he did not turn against his brother. He is a dutiful man, dutiful to both the Realm and his brother." Robb unsheathed his sword and thrust it into the air, "King Stannis is the only true King!"
That night the Riverlanders and Northerners dined with Ser Davos and his men, cheering the dutiful Stags name and trading war stories. The ravens were sent to Dragonstone and Dragonstone alone. The Riverlands and North had sworn fealty to Stannis Baratheon. War would continue to ravage the Seven Kingdoms until the Lannisters were finally defeated and the dutiful Stag was placed upon the Iron Throne.
Tommen POV: Twenty-Third Day of the Twelfth Moon, 298 AC
He sighed as he peered out at the Sept of Baelor. A sight that had burned itself into his memory as he looked out of the window of his new apartments. He had taken up residency in Joffrey's chambers, most of his brother's things had been moved out and only a few furnishings remained. It was oddly bittersweet being in these chambers again, several fond and dreadful memories lay waiting for him as he rediscovered the chambers. It was strangely relaxing staring out of the open window, it made him feel a sense of control over his fate in a way. He enjoyed the warm nightly breeze that flew past him and into his chambers as carefully placed candles combated any foul-smelling elements that may have found their way into his chambers. The stresses of ruling melted away as he peered into the dark city. His mother had nearly cost him everything that he had been trying to achieve for the past thirteen years but thankfully she had not.
Myrcella had been nearly inconsolable since the Day of Terror, members of their family were dropping like flies. First Robert, then Joffrey, and now Mother, though she wasn't dead she was still held in the Maidenvault.
A knock dragged him away from his thoughts as the voice of Ser Barristan sounded through the thick door, "Lady Margaery to see his Grace."
Tommen pursed his lips and for a moment and considered sending her away, but he knew it would do no good. Playing the fool had its benefits, "Send her in," Sure enough as the Old Knight promised his betrothed emerged through the door, her mourning colors on display a black gown with golden roses circling her feminine curves. Her bosom was more bare than normal or perhaps that was just his imagination as he gazed at it for a moment before flicking up his eyes to meet hers. Her deep blue pools seemed to capture him as he gazed at her. She had not taken the death of her brother well, she had become colder in a way. She acted more like her grandmother and Tommen desired not to poke a thorn but he sought not to pluck them either as she would need them if they were to survive this game that had claimed them since birth.
Her eyes were tired, her face lined with stress as she approached him with a rather fake smile. "Love," She said, "My father has gathered a host of forty thousand swords and is coming to take up his position as Master of Ships." Old news… he had been informed of it just hours earlier by Renly who had his uncle, Lord Eldon Estermont gathering a host of the Lords in the Stormlands who had not sworn fealty to Stannis Baratheon. A host of twenty thousand.
Tommen did not concern himself with fears of betrayal for there was nothing he could do if they chose to. He doubted Lord Mace would betray him, the Tyrells had more to gain by sticking to the alliance with the Lannisters but the Lord Oaf of Highgarden was easily swayed. He had even briefly considered naming Mace his Regent but that would do more harm than good. The Fat Flower would be easily influenced by him but he was also easily influenced by anyone in the room.
He trusted Renly little, his uncle had grown only more distasteful ever since his dear Loras had died. Tommen had wondered how soon it would be before Corlan would inform him that the Prancing Stag had ordered a whore from one of his brothels. Not soon enough… A careful web of threats would keep the council in line, Grandmaester Pycelle had sworn a vow of celibacy and he had broken that vow time and time again. Renly was simply a pillow-biter a truth that would certainly tarnish his reputation if it got out. He had nothing on Baelish and he cursed himself for it, a man without weakness.
He shook his head when he realized that he had been silent in his thoughts, "Apologies my Lady, your father, and Lord Tarly will make excellent additions to the council, and their hosts shall be invaluable."
Margaery reached out and grabbed his arm delicately running her hand along its length. "You have a Master of Whisperers, a Master of Ships, Master of War, Master of Coin, and a Hand… but I've noticed since the death of Janos Slynt and the ousting of your Mother you have yet to name a Regent or Commander of the City Watch." She looked him in the eye, "Do you have any ideas as to who might take up those positions." Ah, of course…
He had some ideas but they seemed to be mostly bad ones as he pondered them. He had considered naming Addam Hill as commander of the City Watch and making Corlan his Regent but he dismissed those ideas for now. I need a puppet as Regent and only I shall pull his strings. "No," Tommen answered. "I was hoping to hear your opinion before I decided on such paramount matters."
Margaery quirked an eyebrow, "Really? You would value such a thing?" Mayhaps, so long as you don't prove yourself another Cersei Lannister… Margaery's new demeanor as a colder person did not freeze her warmness entirely. But it did concern him somewhat, the last thing he needed was Cersei Lannister by his side.
Tommen offered a sincere smile from an endless coffer of fake ones, "A wise man once told me that a wise man knows what he knows and what he doesn't. He said that he should listen to those loyal to him and those meant to counsel him on such things. Being the future Queen I can imagine you have a say in such matters?"
Margaery batted her eyes and offered the first real smile he had seen her smile since before the Day of Terror. "For the Citywatch I would suggest…" She pondered fakely for a moment before answering. "I would say Mark Mullendore." A Reachmen how surprising. I will not have my Gold Cloaks turned into Green Cloaks. Tommen could however offer no rebuff as he did not know who to name to the position. Addam Hill was loyal but doubtless, a man such as him was likely to survive the position with the way Gold Cloaks behaved. The Wall would have no shortage of Watchmen for that he was sure. Margaery continued, "For Regent however I am unsure." Oh? "I would think your grandfather would get such a position but with him fighting a war that makes such a position unfeasible. I would have to say Renly." Oh… Renly was an obvious candidate, being kin and such but Tommen had an issue of not trusting him.
Tommen considered that for a moment. "My Uncle has been promised another position, a more long-term one." Margaery smiled again, this time it was one of amusement.
"The Realm cannot go without a Regent for too long love."
In all technicality, the young King had no say in who was named Regent but he had the Council on strings of threats and promises and he did so love pulling them. "On that much we agree my Lady, might we sit?" Tommen asked while gesturing towards a small round table with several fruits filling the large bowl that sat upon it.
Margaery nodded and they walked over to the table with three chairs and filled two of them. "I believe I know the perfect man to become Regent. Sadly, most would not support such an appointment." He said sadly, as he plucked a grape from the dish and a contented feeling washed over him as the fruit's flavor exploded into his awaiting mouth.
Margaery tilted her head slightly a ponderous look on her face before she followed him in plucking a grape from the bowl. "Who would create such dissension within the Realm?" Margaery asked genuinely curious.
"I would not spoil the surprise," Tommen answered after tasting another explosion of flavor. "I don't think you'd like him either, but he's Intelligent, resilient, and above all loyal. And those are the only things that matter to me."
Margaery changed the subject, "Your mother's trial is in five days, have you come up with a verdict?" An overbearing amount of court events are being held too close together for my liking. A funeral. A trial. A coronation.
Tommen laughed, "Oh there will be no thought on the verdict love, she's guilty. Guilty as sin and will be punished as such befits."
Tommen recognized the threatenings of a smile starting to play at the roses' lips, "And what, pray tell, would such punishment befit her?"
Tommen considered not telling her as yet another burst of fruit was crushed beneath his teeth, but he decided it was likely to do no harm. "My mother has committed an unforgivable sin against me and your family. And I will punish her to the fullest extent I am able. I can think of no better sentence than a lifetime of servitude to the Faith. The High Septon has agreed to it, whether or not she pleas for mercy she shall swear a lifetime of servitude to the Silent Sisters."
Margaery smiled then, and after a moment of ponderance Margaery tilted her head slightly, "And what unforgivable sin, has your mother committed?"
Tommen knew the truth would not do, so he came up with the closest thing to it, "Why betrayal my love, there is nothing more unforgivable than that."
Soon after, Margaery and his arms were interlocked as they left his chambers with the Kingsguard keeping close behind. Tommen smiled as she pressed their bodies together, he wondered what was the intent of her manipulations other than making him hers. Tommen's mind may have been a well-honed instrument in the Game of Thrones but his bodily wants made him more vulnerable to her wiles.
They soon were past the Throne Room and past the King's door, they emerged into the Small Council chambers to see Baelish, Pycelle, Renly, and Olenna who had been invited by Tommen himself for her advice. To which she replied with a not so sly remark.
Tommen took his seat at the head of the table while Margaery sat across from him and next to her grandmother. He lifted his hand into the air and called for Mycah to come forward to fill his and everyone's cups. Mycah grabbed the canister and filled Tommen's cup, making his way around the table. It was not wine that filled their cups but water. He had ordered grapes and cheese to be a substitute and the servants soon brought them in too as the council meeting commenced.
"Let us begin my Lords and Ladies," Tommen started, "The matter of my mother's trial, has the court been emptied of those who would serve of no use?"
Pycelle answered, "Yes my King, only thirty shall be in attendance. Unless you would like there to be more cuts?"
"No," Tommen answered, "Thirty shall be fine. What of my brother's funeral?"
"Much more shall be in attendance, your Grace." Baelish answered, "A total of two hundred and fifty, his body shall be carried from the Red Keep before the people and laid to rest in the Sept. I've made arrangements as you've requested and the Queen Dowager will have an hour of time with her son, after the courtly part of the session is concluded."
"Very well," Tommen said. "What of Harrenhal, has my grandfather had any more engagements with the Northerners?"
"N-no my King, Robb Stark's host still sits in Riverrun if our intelligence is to be believed," Pycelle answered.
An amused grunt was all Pycelle received in response, "Is it true, Pycelle, is there a new host being risen in the Westerlands?"
"I am not sure your Grace, Lord Tywin has not yet informed."
Tommen again responded with an amused grunt. He cursed himself for his lack of knowledge of warfare and not learning of the defeats suffered by the Lannisters. He remembered hearing of several in his past life but he did not know of the names or the nature of them.
Littlefinger clicked his tongue, withdrew a scroll, and passed it to Renly, who passed it to Tommen. "A letter from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Like the Lannisters, they always receive their due."
Tommen read its contents and the debt was a tremendous amount. Seven million golden dragons to be precise. "How much can we repay?"
Littlefinger flicked his eyes up in thought for a moment before lowering them to meet Tommen's gaze, "Fifteen percent realistically, with the fact we're in a war not likely to end anytime soon I would say perhaps less."
"And winter will soon be upon us." Pycelle chimed.
"So the Northerners keep reminding us," Tommen weakly japed as he continued to stare at Robert's largest folly, "Do they want a full debt repayment?"
"No, just enough to keep them happy, ten percent, I imagine, but I would have to speak with their representatives to be sure."
"Very well, have it arranged." Tommen flicked his eyes to meet Margaery's who was staring at him predatorily as she finished drinking her goblet. How Margaery could make drinking look so alluring he did not know.
"Boy," Tommen raised his hand and gestured towards Margaery, "My Lady needs more water." Mycah obliged and filled her cup and Tommen flicked his eyes away from Margaery's to stare anywhere else. "Has Riverrun continued to ignore our missives?"
"Yes, your Grace we only have two ravens left for Riverrun out of our initial five," Pycelle said.
Tommen felt his blood boil, he was sure the Northerners would make peace if he allowed Robb Stark's father to keep his head but apparently not. "Damn them then," Tommen cursed, "If the Northerners want a war to remember we'll give it to them. Have you sent the missive to Lord Redwyne that I ordered you to send?"
"Yes, your Grace."
"And what have you asked of Lord Redwyne?" Olenna dared to ask.
"I ordered him to bring his fleet to the Blackwater so that we may take Dragonstone," Tommen answered cutting himself a piece of cheese.
"Is such a disposition wise?" Olenna asked, "The Ironborn are notoriously oafish and if the only fleet to contest their power is no longer in the Sunset Sea, the Reach and Westerlands would be open to them."
"I disagree, Lady Olenna," Tommen answered. "They will like to attack Winterfell. I do not think Lord Balon has forgotten the lessons learned from his rebellion. And if he shall like to feel the wrath of Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and Highgarden once more, let him."
"An Iron will to meet Ironborn stupidity, hmm, they could see you as your Uncle Stannis."
"I prefer my grandfather," Tommen said. He changed the topic, "Baelish have you had any luck in locating the Starks youngest daughter?"
Baelish shook his head, "Unfortunately I have not. It's a sad fact but she is most likely dead."
Tommen shook his head, "Hmm, I do not believe she is. Continue your search. I shall dispatch my own man to help." The meeting ended an hour later as the topics got smaller and more tedious, the topic of Joffrey's murder came up once more but the council largely agreed that the Eunuch acted alone but the investigation would nonetheless continue. As the Council members raised from their seats Renly stayed seated. "What is it, uncle?" Tommen asked once the room was cleared.
Renly didn't respond and flicked his eyes to the cupbearer and the three Kingsguard standing ominously behind Tommen, there was Barristan who was beside him at all times, and the newly made Ser Balon and Sandor Clegane who both took the whitecloak for defending their future Queen. For a reason that was unknown to him, Sandor had refused to be knighted. "Leave us Ser Barristan," Tommen ordered.
The Old Knight stiffly bowed and left with the two other Kingsguards trailing swiftly behind, Mycah followed a distance perhaps afraid of the Hound. Once the doors were closed behind them Renly leaned over the table and spoke in a whisper."Did you kill Joffrey?" He asked skeptically.
Tommen answered calmly he assumed Renly knew given that he had admitted to planning such, "I did it for the Realm."
"You killed your brother for the throne?"
"I knew of my brother's plans uncle, he was going to kill Lord Eddard at the Sept and make peace with the North impossible." Renly scoffed unbelievingly while Tommen continued, "Would you not do the same? I can see the ambition in your eyes Uncle, you don't want to be my hand nor my regent. You want my throne. And if you shall act on these fantasies I'll make sure you receive all the gold in the world… and I'll be the one to pour it down your throat." With that Tommen rose and left without another word.
Doran POV: Twenty-Fifth Day of the Twelfth Moon, 298 AC
Father and son were at Cyvasse. Doran liked to play against Trystane in the Watergardens while the Sandsnakes practiced against one another with their different array of weapons and the winds blew the smell of the many flowers planted there. He spent most of his time here, in this secluded peace miles away from Sunspear.
The hot Dornish weather was appeasing as the winds blew against their silks. He plucked a fig from the fruit bowl as he felt a pang in his stomach as his sickness reminded him of its existence but he kept his light smile.
Trystane had positioned himself well on the board but Doran had positioned himself better and Trystane knew it. It wasn't long before Doran had prevailed over his son but it wasn't easy. Trystane was as strong as Oberyn and as intelligent as Doran. The perfect heir to carry on my legacy.
"You did well son," Doran said settling back into his chair from his previous bent-over position. "You've improved."
Trystane laughed, "But I haven't beaten you yet no?"
"Nothing to be ashamed of, only one person has been able to best me as of yet."
"Who?"
"Your Aunt," Doran answered.
"Did she beat you often?" Trystane asked cautiously.
"No," Doran smiled sentimentally, "But she beat me just enough to remind me not to underestimate her."
Trystane smiled and stood, he put his hand on his father's shoulder and said, "Do not worry father, before long I'll be besting you too." He then walked away. So much like me and yet so different. Doran grabbed another fig as he turned his attention to Obara and Teyne who was by this time in the ground but not out of the fight. She wheeled around and kicked herself to her feet and the fight continued.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a Viper within the gardens walking with his typical speed. He smiled at his daughters as they continued their spar and stood before Doran revealing a scroll. "Word from across the Narrow sea." Doran opened the scroll with the seal of Illyrio Mopatis. "Viserys Targaryen is dead." He said while Doran read its words. A frown replaced the light smile he had adopted earlier.
"Another plan down the gutter," Doran murmured to himself.
"What now?" Oberyn asked.
"We do what we have always done, we wait for fire and blood. His sister is married to a Dothraki Khal correct?"
Oberyn nodded, "The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea. And I'm betting they will stick to that history."
"Perhaps," Doran admitted, "But I will not bend to Robert's brother nor the Lannister bastard. We shall continue how we always have and bring the Dragons back into the fold." Doran and Oberyn paused their conversation as a distinct lack of fighting caused the gardens to go quiet. When he looked he saw that there was no winner and that both girls had their weapons at their sides staring up at the sky in wonder. Doran turned his head upwards as a red streak scorched its way across the sky.