The lords of Westeros had finally settled, watching them scramble and bicker for seats was an exercise in pomposity and empty posturing that almost reminded Kurt of some of the civilian UEG politicians who declared they could run the UNSC better than men like Lord Hood. The few who had actually managed to get into positions of power never lasted long, mostly because the second they saw combat they either folded and handed command back over to the real commanders or were killed trying to make names for themselves. Whatever the case, it took nearly two hours before the assembled lords organised and settled down, finding themselves looking out over an ocean of their peers.
As the final bursts of argument and noise quieted, Grand Maester Pycelle stepped forwards, the chains around his neck clinking together and resounding all across the hall. Beside him, Ser Gerold Hightower carried a large staff, with a stylised bottom that he struck the floor with. The staff let out a clear, reverberating note that echoed through the room, drawing the attentions of any whose focus the two did not already have.
"My lord and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms." He announced, looking over the assembled nobility.
"As lord commander of the order of the kingsguard under King Aerys Targaryen second of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, I hereby announce that this, the great council of the year two-hundred and eighty-three after Aegon's conquest shall commence."
He slammed down the staff again, and another note of equal volume filled the chambers before the man continued.
"I implore you, my lords and ladies, that this council shall choose for the realm the next king of Westeros. Only those of reasonable claim may present their cases here today, and of them, it shall be the responsibility of all those here, loyal men and… others alike, that you exercise fair judgment. Let go of petty personal grudges, and place the good of the realm above your own ambitions. You must choose here the best of those who's claims are presented and ensure that a true and legitimate king is selected to sit the Iron Throne."
His speech done, Ser Gerold stepped back and Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. Waving his arms before him slightly, a large group of young men and women entered the hall. In their arms they each held large tomes and as they filed in behind him, they each sat at small desks and pulled out several sets of ink and quills.
"My lords and ladies." The grand maester said seeming unsteady on his feet. "In order that these events are recorded well and with great accuracy, these scribes have been places around the room, to take note of all those who speak and what they say, so that we might preserve for future generations what was said and done at this historic event, the fourth great council in the history of the Targaryen dynasty."
The sound of shifting chairs echoed around the hall as the scribed pulled in their chairs and opened their books.
"Now, my lords and ladies, I would ask who would place their claims forth first."
Immediately, Robert Baratheon stood up, chair almost toppling behind him.
"My lords." He said boisterously. "Many of you know me, many of you have either fought with me, or fought against me, and I commend all men who do either and are here to tell the tale."
'Whatever Robert's faults, he is not lacking in confidence.' Elia thought to herself, rolling her eyes.
"You would also thereby know of my actions. Treason against the Iron Throne, rebellion against my rightful king."
There was some murmuring amongst the lords and ladies of the realm, more so from the balconies above where many men and women watched, who did not have seats for not being lords of their own right.
"Bah." Robert all but spat on the ground. "That for mad Aerys and his son. We all now know the truth. Rhaegar seduced and absconded with my betrothed, Lyanna Stark, without the knowledge of anyone outside himself and his three 'princeguard'. I admit that this would not have been just reason to rebel, for the Lady Lyanna was not kidnapped as we thought. However, Aerys broke the oaths of protection that Aegon and all previous kings had sworn to his vassals when he imprisoned his warden of the North, Lord Rickard Stark, without just cause and then murdered Brandon Stark in a trial most foul for daring to demand the return of his sister, who again, thanks to Rhaegar and his silent entourage, we all believed to have been kidnapped."
A few lords shouted objections to Robert's speech, mostly loyal houses from the Reach and Riverlands, but were quickly either shouted down by rebel houses or quieted by the lord commander and grand maester.
"And then, Aerys' depravity took a step beyond even that. He demanded the heads of my friend, Eddard Stark, and my own head, his own kin, because he knew that we could not bear such depraved treachery of the oath of the king's protection. I stand here now, with the blood of my grandmother Rhaelle Targaryen, going back to that of Orys Baratheon, and the claim of right by conquest. I hereby offer myself as the best man to take the Iron Throne, so that we need not suffer through a reign ruled over by the blood of Aerys the mad and Rhaegar the fool."
Robert's speech and proclamation was met with roars of both approval and protest. Men of the Reach and Dorne raged at the insults to Aegon that Robert had levelled. On the other side, the houses who had fought in the rebellion, particularly those of the Stormlands roared their approval of the man they had chosen to be king, one of their own who now had a chance to sit the throne that had once belonged to the dragon kings of old.
"My lords." Pycelle tried to calm the raging arguments.
The scribes scratched down as much as they could understand as fast as their hands could move. Names of lords who shouted insults, of lords who roared approval, of ladies who swooned before the Stormlord's proclamation were noted and recorded for the future.
Ser Gerold slammed the staff on the floor at the grand maester's signal, slowly bringing the other lords under control.
"My lords!" Ser Gerold exclaimed as he finally managed to calm the last of the seething or boasting men. "Please, remember that this is an event of great solemnity, and we must behave accordingly."
The old knight stepped back, but his face was set into a look of distain as he stared at Robert. The young lord returned the glare with a smirk, all but revelling in the surety of his victory.
"Now, Lord Baratheon has presented his claim, would any others seek to present a rival?"
Lord Mace Tyrell stood, his large belly contained in a smart green and gold doublet with roses embroidered on it.
"I would name Aegon the sixth, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, as the rightful king of Westeros."
With the Lord of Highgarden's announcement, there were cheers and roars from amongst the Reach and Dornish seats. The fat flower stood tall looking over each of the other great lords, only pausing briefly to exchange nods with Oberyn and Doran Martell just to his left.
"None here dispute that Aerys was not the finest of kings who have ever sat upon the Iron Throne. My lords, none of us dispute this, but that does not disinherit his entire line. Aegon the fourth, who we all know as the Unworthy, begat King Daeron the second, who was one of our wisest kings, and united all the seven kingdoms, something neither Aegon the Dragon or Daemon the Young Dragon could do through force of arms."
Murmurs erupted once again. Many were in agreement, no matter how begrudging, of Mace Tyrell's point. Daeron Targaryen, while not the most beloved monarch during his life, was looked back upon as one of the great kings of Westeros.
"Prince Aegon may yet be young, but he is the first son of Rhaegar, who was the first of Aerys. He is the rightful king, no matter what flimsy claims of conquest his cousin, distantly related, might bring about to try and justify his treasons."
The man sat down. To a mixture of cheers and jeers, looking as puffed up as a prized peacock. Ser Gerold stepped forwards and again tried to re-establish order amongst the squabbling men.
"My lords, my lords, please. Lord Tyrell has every right to bring about a claim for the eldest son of the eldest son of House Targaryen. I will have no man gainsay another's right to propose a claim to the throne. Now then, are there any other claims that might be presented?"
The room was silent for a time, most knew that there were still a few claims to be presented and discussed. Viserys Targaryen, Young Aemon, whose existence could not be kept a secret for long after his birth. Even young Rhaenys Targaryen had a claim that was not to be entirely dismissed. After all, she was a princess of Dorne, where women were well known to sit the throne over their younger brothers.
Even still, there was little precedent for any of them. The first son of the first son held the superior claim over the second son, and though a great council had passed over five such claimants to crown Aegon the fifth, his was a rather extraordinary case, the invocation of which would more than likely give credence to Robert's claim over any of the young Targaryen children.
"Shall we discuss then?" Mace Tyrell asked, looking over the other lords of the realm.
"Before we do." Kurt said, standing up. "At my side, Queen Rhaella and Princess Elia have spoken with myself and other lords alike, and as such an announcement must be made."
Kurt sat down again and as he did, both Rhaella and Elia stood up. Neither woman was especially tall, but amongst the seated lords, they stood over all but the tallest.
"My lords." Elia spoke first.
Her voice was soft like silk, but with the silence created by Kurt, and preserved by her own reputation, all the men of Westeros sat quietly while she spoke. Even Lord Tywin, who's chair back was facing her, had turned in his seat slightly so as to see her clearly.
"You all know me. I am sure of this. I am Elia Martell. Wife of Rhaegar Targaryen and mother of Rhaenys and Aegon. Today, Lord Mace Tyrell has presented my son as the heir to the Iron Throne. Perhaps in a different time, I might have proudly stood and accepted. However, that is not this time, and I have seen the horror that the throne has inflicted on men who hold it. Aerys Targaryen's madness only grew larger upon it, and my husband Rhaegar, beloved as he might have been, went mad with the weight of kingship hanging above his head. I would not have that weight thrust upon my son from such a young age as he is."
Mace Tyrell's face, once forged into a smile almost briming with satisfaction, crumbled and fell as Elia spoke. It seemed that the fat flower had expected more from the mother of his proposed king.
Her brothers also seemed disappointed, but neither seemed to direct that feeling towards her. Instead, Oberyn seemed to switch his hateful glare between Lord Tywin and Lord Terra, as if simply trying to will the to death.
"I would see my son free of this conflict that had erupted across the realm, and I am not blind to the part his father and grandfather have played in starting it. Therefore, I do so hereby forsake Rhaenys and Aegon's claims to the Iron Throne, so that they might live lives free of its curse."
The words were highly rehearsed. After all, simply stating that her children's claims were being abdicated to save their lives, while more honest, would also promote more outrage and a less stable future for the new dynasty. Most wouldn't believe it, if any, but as long as the official statement was that the abdication was voluntary, others couldn't challenge it without declaring the princess, the mother of their proposed king, a liar.
As the princess sat down, all but trembling over her actions, Rhaella stood up.
"My lords, my good-daughter has stood before you and declared her son's claim to be set aside. I see her courage, for choosing the safety of her children over her ambition for the throne. As such, in agreement and solidarity with my daughter, who has lost her husband as I have lost mine, I do hereby forsake the claim of my second son, Viserys, as the heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. I would keep my last son as far from that which cost me my oldest child and changed him into something to be condemned."
Rhaella's announcement, following on the heels of Elia's was a shock that could not go unanswered. Men of the loyalist houses leapt to their feet in protest, none more so that the Dornish houses, shouting of treason and the rightful claims of their princess' daughter and son.
The Reach, it seemed, was in rare agreement with their southern neighbours. Oaths of loyalty towards Aegon, Viserys, even Rhaenys erupted from the lords of those two kingdoms, and even from some of the loyalist houses of the Stormlands, Vale and Riverlands.
Once, Rhaella's heart might have warmed at the sight of so many declaring their loyalties to her children and grandchildren. Now though? She felt nothing but dread as she wondered how much this might affect Elia and her children's chances of freedom.
"My lords."
The room quieted as another man stood up. Rickard Stark had recovered well from his months in captivity over the last few weeks since his release. Where once he had been rendered thin and feeble by his time in the black cells, he had filled out again with the return of a full belly, good sleep, and sunshine. Most of the shouting and arguing men calmed as the old wolf stood.
"My lords. We are here to discuss who amongst the claimants hold the most valid argument for their rule. Young Aegon and Rhaenys are too young yet to be put on the throne without a regency that will last a decade at least. Viserys, while not quite the infants that his niece and nephews are, will likewise need careful tending. However, should we allow any of them to sit the throne, considering the madness that so freshly flows through their veins? Aerys was a madman who burned men alive, Rhaegar was a madman who abandoned his duties and subjects to abscond with my daughter. Aerys and Rhaegar's blood, as was done with Aerion Targaryen and his son Maegor, should be looked over, in favour of men we know with certainty are of sound mind. I came here to show my support for the decisions of my son and his allies in rebelling against a tyrant king. Now I stand to name one of those men, Robert Baratheon, as the new king of Westeros."
"And what of your daughter's son, Lord Rickard?" Doran asked. "I have not yet heard you make so much as a mention of his claim. We know he is a boy. Will you stand here today before us all and tell us that you have no plans to place your young grandson on the throne?"
"I would, Prince Doran." Rickard shot back. "My daughter gave birth to a son of Prince Rhaegar. Aemon is his name, after the son of Maekar who forsook the throne for the role of a Maester as Vaegon did before him in the conciliator's time.
I would, here and now, dismiss the claim of my grandson, Aemon Blackfyre, to the Iron Throne. Instead, I would support the claim of Lord Baratheon, who has been not only a friend to my family but has also not killed any of my children or abducted any others with flights of fancy and silvered words. Is that satisfactory to you, Prince Doran?"
"Absolutely not." Oberyn shot out of his chair.
"You dare declare my sister's abdication as lawful, when those men-" The prince pointed over at Lord Terra. "-hold her children and the child of queen Rhaella as hostage."
"That is a fair and valid point." Ser Gerold said, stepping up. "Lord Terra, can you swear to the lords of these lands that you will do no harm to the rightful king should he be chosen by this council to become the next king of Westeros?"
"No."
Kurt did not hesitate under the demands of the Dornish prince.
"I'll make no promises to men who would see a child raised to ultimate executive authority only on the back of who their father was. None of those children have shown any indication that they won't suffer from the same series of mental disorders and insanity of Aerys, or the moral insanity and hallucinatory delusions of Rhaegar. Meanwhile, Robert Baratheon has shown little to no traces of the eccentricities that the Targaryens are famous for."
"Honourless cur." Ser Arthur, who was standing behind Ser Gerold, snarled. "You think yourself the true and final authority to deny the ascension of the rightful king?"
"I do not answer to you, Ser Arthur." Kurt said. "I have little tolerance for the blindly loyal, and I won't have supreme power handed over to a child so young he can't be trusted no to soil himself on the throne you want to seat him on."
The room was silent, the lords of Westeros watching as the sword of the morning advanced upon the spartan lord. To the man's credit, he did not rise from his seat, or even show a hint of fear as Dawn's blade peeked out of its scabbard.
"Ser Arthur." Ser Barristan interrupted. "This is not your place."
"My place is to protect the true king of Westeros." Arthur snarled. "Aerys and Rhaegar are dead, by this man's hand, and I would avenge them."
"Please Ser Arthur, you are only embarrassing yourself." Kurt said. "Your 'king', such as he was, is dead and now it is the duty of the lords of the realm to decide the next one. You are not Ser Criston Cole, to slit the throats of any you disagree with because they will not name the king you wish."
Kurt allowed the slightest amount of true condescension to drip into his voice as he raised it to be heard by all. The room was split it seemed. Most murmured in agreement, after all, the last time a kingsguard had decided the succession of the throne, a civil war had ravaged all of Westeros and caused the deaths of almost all of the Targaryen dragons.
"And instead, you and your master will these things by using children as hostages?" Demanded Arthur.
"Arthur." Elia hissed her hand gripping tightly to her thigh through her dress.
Rhaella looked between the sword of the morning and the man she had agreed to marry, trying to gauge how he might be feeling given this blatant challenge. So far, she hoped that the man's so far unbroken calm could hold under the public repudiation, but she had seen men snap under far less.
"If we're to speak of the dishonour of using children to gain a throne, I expect Ser Arthur you are ready to hear of how many times the Targaryens have done it, both to others and each other. Visenya flew to the Eyrie and threatened queen regent Sharra into giving up her son's crown. Maegor held prince Viserys during his reign to leave his younger brother Jaehaerys unable to claim the throne, Aegon the second and Aerys the first kept hostages to prevent rebellion from lords and men who distained them."
The spartan lord got to his feet, towering over the sword of the morning.
"Do not speak to me of honour and virtue. If I was an honourless man, you would be dead, as would every member of the Targaryen family and all their loyal vassals."
"Bold words, but I would see them tested." Arthur snarled. "I challenge you, Lord Ambrose, to a trial by seven."
The sword of the morning turned to address the entirety of the great council, the fourth ever in Westeros.
"Let it be known to all, I challenge the honour of Lord Kurt Ambrose of House Terra. I name him coward and kingslayer, and in this trial, I will prove it, and if we should emerge victorious, then you shall stand aside and watch as the true king sits the throne."
He turned and looked up to stare Lord Ambrose in the eye.
"What say you, Lord Terra?"
"I do not have to answer to you Ser Arthur, nor do I have to accept this ridiculous challenge you have issued just to sooth your pride or exact some kind of petty revenge. I will make no promises to you, not when I have already made promises to others."
Kurt stepped forwards, all but chest to chest with Arthur, which forced the man to look up to try and meet his eyes. After all, even out of armour, Kurt towered over the man by more than a head.
"However, I will accept your challenge of a trial, if for no other reason that it will prove to everyone just how serious my people and I are."
With that, Kurt sat down again amidst the now rampant gossip of the assembled lords of the realm.
Arthur looked at the man, who sat as if nothing had happened.
"If you insist." Arthur snarled. He turned to the kingsguard, his six brother, who should have been seven, standing behind him.
"My brothers of the kingsguard. I would ask that you fulfil our oath to serve House Targaryen, oaths that we have all sworn in the sight of gods and men. I stand now before the man who killed our king and his son. It is our duty as sacred bodyguards of Targaryen kings and queens to avenge the death of our charge. Stand with me now or live with honour tainted by this failure of our great duty."
Arthur pled his case before all the men of the realm, and was met by approving murmurs from all around. Kurt notices that even the rebel houses seemed to approve. After all, even on the other side of a war, the honour of the sword of the morning, and the kingsguard in general, had been besmirched. It was their honour-bound duty to try and avenge their failure, and even those men who had rebelled against the king those men served could understand the demand for satisfaction.
"I will join you." Prince Lewyn joined his brother almost immediately. "It is not just the death of my king I seek to avenge, but the safety of my family, and though the oath of our brotherhood proclaims I leave behind that family I knew, I am fortunate to defend my own great-nephew as my king."
"I as well." Ser Gerold said. "My duty in this council is to demand fair consideration, and Lord Terra's actions have impeded this. Even without this though, It is my duty as lord commander of King Aerys' kingsguard to avenge his death."
One by one, the six remaining members of Aerys' kingsguard stepped forwards. Some did it proudly, like Ser Lewyn or Ser Gerold, others with less surety, such as Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan.
"That is six, I would ask that Ser Jaime join as a part of our brotherhood, but I doubt his lord father would agree."
Ser Arthur glared at the old lion, who only returned the look with one that made eve the sword of the morning look away.
"If the cowardly lion will not stand for his king, then I will." Prince Oberyn stood up from his chair. "My own uncle fights for the rights of his king and so I will fight for the right of my nephew to sit the throne that he was born for."
"You've made your point with these theatrics." Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "I suppose we will meet somewhere your little show will have an audience. Should we reconvene there now?"
"Do not think us the same kind of coward as you Lord Terra." Arthur snarled. "We will allow you time to gather champions of your own, though I doubt you will have to look far to find men to fight, only for men who will fight with honour, for none of these rebels have much of it."
"Of course. I suppose tomorrow then? I would really rather be finished with this distraction you seem to think is so important."
"Find your champions Lord Ambrose, and we will see how well your men fight without surprise and treachery as their aid."
His piece said, Ser Arthur turned and walked with his five brothers from the great hall. Ser Gerold remained, the only member of the kingsguard still present.
"My lords, it seems that this matter will have to wait until the morrow, when we will see this false abdication set aside and true discussion on the claims of the royal family discussed. Please return to your dwellings and return in the morn should any of you wish to watch this new trial.
Long chapter, finally the council begins, and we get our claimants. Trial of seven to come. It is a little stupid by Arthur and the kingsguard to do this when Kurt has Aegon and Rhaenys, but some of them are so driven by honour and expectations that they'll do it anyway.