The sand was soft, and the water was clear, only the dark skies above hinted at the nature of Shipbreaker Bay. Many had been uncomfortable at the thought of risking over a hundred warships of her fleet on this venture, but ser Davos' sons assured her that there were places in the bay, inlets and coves, where ships could be hidden to minimise any risk from sudden storms. Allard had shown her on the map when she had still been worried. The fleet would move before dark, but Shireen wanted them in the bay as a display. She was a queen, and she would not slip into the castle, she would arrive with all the finery of that title.
Her horse was brought ashore, a beautiful white mare, chosen for its surety of foot as much as its coat. Four grooms brought a heavy cloth of gold caparison, made for this horse that fell to the bottom of its legs. When the caparison was on, the crowned black stags shone with lustre. They brought out steps for her to mount, for her dress was just as elaborate and heavy. Thick samite of gold and white, while a black cloak of tailored raven feathers was fixed to her shoulders and had to be ruffled out by the grooms so it lay across the horse, and a gold chain connected the cloak across her chest. It was all topped with her crown, resting in her black hair.
By the time she had been prepared on that beach, the other ships had come ashore and her court and escort were mounted. Shireen fell in line behind twenty knights carrying her banners, her uncle and mother just behind her and the rest of the court coming in behind as they rode up the track towards Storm's End. Lyonel's archer regiments would be coming up behind them.
Heralds pronounced her coming as they rode through the camp. Keep your head forwards. She had to keep to her lessons. If she looked down she would smile and people would see the girl beneath the crown, they had to see the queen. So she raised her hand, sheathed in a silken white glove, to the soldiers in the camps. From the corner of her eye she saw them emerging from their tents, looking up from bowls. A smith was sharpening swords but stilled his grindstone as she approached and then passed. She saw them whisper. Please be good whispers, she prayed.
Storm's End stood out against the sky like a sword of obsidian, thrusting out of the ground. At her herald's announcement, the gate opened and her escort entered her ancestral home.
Waiting on the steps leading into Storm's End were a coterie of nobility. Some were armoured, some not, some had swords on their waists, others were unarmed. They stared at her, Lord Cuy's mouth was open, and ser Jon Fossoway and Ronnet Connington exchanged looks and Lord Buckler was the first to bow. Shireen approached them, trying to 'glide' as Amalia had taught her, although she nearly got her feet twisted in her dress. "Lord Cuy," she said simply, holding out her hand.
"Your Grace," he took her hand and kissed the back of it.
She repeated the motion with each of them in turn and asked them to join her that evening before leading them into the castle.
She immediately took council with Lord Buckler. As castellan, appointed to replace her by her father from the brief time she had held that post, Ralph had been doing what he could to keep order in the army around Storm's End, hearing the concerns of the other lords and attempting to halt the progress of the Lannisters and Tyrells with little success. He had explained the latest clash, a sneak attack on the camps of Lord Florent, which had been repelled with two hundred men dead. The commander of the attack, Lord Casper Wylde, had been injured and was recovering in the maester's tower. Shireen commanded Ralph to take her to see him at once.
Lord Wylde was lain out on maester Jurne's table. The maester had the sleeves of his robes rolled up, his arm bloody. A bundle of bloody rags lay to one side, a foot sticking out of them. The smell was the worst and Shireen gagged, taking long breaths to recover herself before getting closer. Lord Wylde's uncle looked at her, barely able to hide his disgust at Shireen's gagging, and she felt herself flush. Casper was lying still, his chest slowly rising and falling, a sleep induced by milk of the poppy. But his leg was a ruin, puss crusted around the stump, with maggots eating away at the infected flesh. Jurne explained what was happening, and Shireen was powerless to offer anything to his uncle other than her prayers. "I will write to my nephew's wife and tell her, your grace." He almost spat the words and Shireen fought not to recoil.
Back in her chambers, Ralph continued to describe the war and every sentence brought darker tidings. Tyrell armies in the south, advancing along the marches. They had been taking castle after castle, only stopping in recent weeks. No doubt so their lords can attend Joffrey's wedding. But the wedding would be done now, and if they hadn't already rejoined their armies, then they would soon. But even without their lords, the Tyrell armies had two men in the field for every man of hers, and many of hers were garrisoning strongholds. Summerhall still held, and for that Shireen felt a certain pride, but it was the only solace she found. In the north of the warfront, Lannister armies had moved more slowly, but still steadily approached them. Ralph was particularly worried about Bronzegate, his own hall, that lay in the path of Lannister armies. She had no words to soothe him, and her mind went to the motherhouse that had provided her shelter in the storm, and the atrocities that would be inflicted on the septas there.
"And the… and my lords?"
"At each other's throats. I've had to place the armies of House Swann and House Cuy at opposite ends of the camp after their men at arms fought over a stack of repaired spears. Three Swanns died, and two of House Cuy, it would have been worse if Ser Richard Morrigen hadn't been returning from scouting with his knights and was able to break them up." He spoke of how Lady Mertyns refused requests for more arrows, claiming she had none to give, and how he dare not leave the castle to investigate if this was true. Bonnifer Hasty and his Holy Hundred were forsaking orders to ride out and protect septs and none of Ralph's entreaties could call him back.
The best that could be said was that none of the lords had taken their swords over to the Lannisters. "Are they still willing to fight?"
"For now." The words hung heavy in the air.
She changed for dinner, the heavy golden dress replaced with a lighter silk and satin gown that would be more bearable in the round hall with so many men. Like the gowns she had brought with her, it fastened at her collar and the sleeves, while flowing, were full. If she stood straight with her arms down, the silk would hide her hands. There would be no hint of immodesty.
When Richard told her that the lords were waiting for her, she slipped the crown on her head. Until the day came when these men saw her as a queen in their hearts, she could leave no doubt in their minds.
Her courtiers lined up. Richard would stand at her shoulder, Aeriel would come behind her to serve as her cupbearer, and the rest would follow on to sit at the high table. She nodded and the door was opened, a herald pronounced in two words. "The Queen!"
The lords were seated at two long tables and they stood when she entered. It was a constant wrangle of noise as they stood one after the other, in pairs or threes or one alone and she was halfway down the hall by the time it finished. She stood by her chair and let out a long, slow, relieved breath… then remembered that she was the one who was supposed to sit first and did so all too quickly. Idiot, you don't need to wait for father anymore… Because her father was dead, he would know what to do, he would sit through the meal prayers with his grinding teeth and- the meal prayers! She turned and asked Alwyn to lead the prayers, which he did with full solemnity. When the prayers ended the meal began, and Shireen had never been so exhausted by a meal before. She concentrated on making her mannerisms small and dignified, when men approached her she forced her tone to be level and her sentences short and her expression fixed, and still managed to fumble some of her words.
When Lord Lester Morrigen approached the table he was seized by Lord Harwood Fell. "You've spoken your piece, Morrigen, some of us would also address the queen."
Shireen tensed and felt Richard step forward beside her.
"The queen did not ration our petitions, I would speak with her about my son's death."
"I grieve for your son, my lord," Shireen said, and Harwood scorned her with his gaze.
"I will speak first!"
Shireen was glad their swords were racked on the wall, or else they might both have drawn by now. "My lords," she said calmly, but if Harwood heard her, he did not say. And when she spoke next, two more added their voices to Lester's rights, but Jon Fossoway and his cousins spoke in favour of Harwood.
"My lords-" no one heard her.
"Your Grace!" Robin Peasebury called to her, but when Shireen tried to answer it was drowned out by the raucous calls from the tables where almost every lord was now afoot and confronting each other. But no longer was it over who got to lay their grievance at her feet. Lord Meadows was fending off accusations of cowardice from Leo Shermer and two of her guards were dragging apart Steffon Varner and Samwell Cafferen, both of whom had seized cutlery and were grappling for each other.
She tried to calm them, hammering her fist on the high table, but only pain came of it.
"Enough!" Her mother's voice cracked through the air and all ceased. Her mother looked at her and Shireen opened her mouth.
"I… yes… enough…" quietening with every syllable, Shireen was sure only she heard her last word.
And so her mother spoke again, and did so as a queen. She chastised the lords and summoned the servants to bring the next and final course, and declared that no more petitions would be heard that day.
Shireen wore her shame like a cloak and saw the disappointment or worse in the eyes of the men she came to win over.
That night, she dreamt of a tower. As she walked through a twisted wood, she thought it was Storm's End, but it wasn't. It was just a tower. Chunks were ripped from the masonry and a single doorway without a door was carved into the base of it. Why was the tower here in the middle of the trees? It wasn't even in a clearing, just stabbing up through the leafless canopy against a starless night sky.
Then a light came. A single flash of gold came from the top of the tower and cut across the air. What was that? Another one followed it. She entered the tower. There were no rooms in it. Just a singe staircase winding around the rim of the tower leading to the top. She was out of breath by the time she reached the top and turned the heavy iron handle leading out onto the roof of the tower and stepped out into the night sky.
"You." She breathed. Her lip began to quiver and tears of joy and rage came to her eye. "Why… why has it taken you so long?"
The archer on the tower didn't answer, he simply raised his bow into the sky, drew back his arrow and fired. The arrow became the golden light. "I'm sorry," Lyonel said, turning to her and smiling sadly. "I wanted to come sooner, but it is not so easy."
"What does that mean?!" She demanded angrily.
He shook his head. "I can't say. But I promise you, I would have come sooner if I could."
Shireen slammed into him. "Lyonel…" she breathed and let the tears flow into his tunic.
"I'm sorry, Shireen," he whispered as his arms hugged her, just like they had when he was alive. "I'm sorry this burden fell to you."
She knew the burden of which he spoke. She wanted to speak of old times and forget that Lyonel was dead. He stepped back and sat down on the tower top. For the first time she noticed the hole in his side, bone shards jutting out like knifes, with fleshy bits of lung hanging from them. He saw her looking. "It was painful, and not as fast as I would have wished."
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be, you did all you could."
"It wasn't enough."
"Oft times that is the case. But perhaps it was not you, perhaps it was me. Perhaps you came as fast as you ever could haven and it was I who did not defend Pyle well enough. Or perhaps there was never any hope at all."
"Hope died with you and father, I cannot save our house."
"I do not believe that. My only comfort in dying was that our House was safe in yours and father's hands."
"Father is also dead. And where is he?" She had been praying to see them both in her dreams.
Lyonel shrugged. "Perhaps he is not able to come, perhaps he does not want to. I inhabit this place, but I do not know all its rules. But you are here for a reason, and must return to the land of the living soon. What do you need?"
Shireen told him. "Ah, I see," he chuckled.
"So what do you think I should do?"
Lyonel pondered. "I think Amalia was right."
"I tried being serene!"
"You were not serene, you were aloof and cold and most unlike you."
"I told her I wasn't serene."
"You can be serene without being cold. You are a kind woman, Shireen, uncommonly kind and caring, many would say you cared too much. But to care is no weakness, to be cold is no kindness."
"So what do I do?"
"Do you remember why I held the Commons Courts?"
"To show that we were different to the Lannisters."
He nodded. "Despite our defeat on the Blackwater, despite mine and father's deaths, they still stand with you. Show them that we are different, that they have made the right choice."
"How?"
"You know how the Lannisters rule." She nodded. "Then you know how."
"But-"
"You know, Shireen."
"I-"
He pressed a finger to her lips, a frown on his face. "Something is here," he said.
"What?"
"Something I haven't felt before." He snatched up his bow and notched another arrow. Shireen looked around, but saw nothing but the night sky.
In a whip of motion, Lyonel notched an arrow and loosed into the sky in a flash of light. A crow screeched and flew away from the arrow and into the darkness.
"What is it?"
Lyonel hurried over to her. "I don't know." He put his hand on her chest. "You have to go now, Shireen, something is wrong. I'll come to you when I am able." Before she could speak he pushed and she fell over the rim of the tower-
-and into her bed.
She breathed calmly, staring up at the canopy of her bed. She sat up and the covers fell from her. Awake, she felt as though she had never slept so well as queen.
She opened the curtains. The black of night was giving way to the dark of dawn. She had to make right her wrongs of last night. She woke Aeriel from the camp bed beside her own.
"My… my queen," she asked, bleary-eyed. "Is something wrong?"
"No. For the first time in a long time. I need to ready myself for the day."
Aeriel nodded and hopped out of bed. While her handmaiden fetched clothes, Shireen went to the door and gave orders to the guards, sending out summons.
The first of the summoned arrived when Aeriel had finished dressing Shireen in a demure gown of white and black. "My queen." Ser Lynas Farrow knelt, his black hair fell to his collar.
"Ser Lynas, thank you for coming, despite the hour." Ser Lynas had been the first knight of Storm's End to meet her when she had trudged from the north of the Stormlands to the castle. He had called her a lying whore then, and from the look on his face, hadn't forgotten. "I have need of your service today."
"My sword is yours, your grace, whatever your need."
"Gods be with us, your sword may remain in its scabbard this day." She told him what he needed of him. "Do I have your oath?"
"My queen… what you ask…"
"Your oath, ser."
Lynas looked up at her and she met his gaze until he bowed his head again. "You have my oath."
Shireen reached out and with her fingertips, gently raised his face to look at her. "And I will never forget it."
The guards returned and told her that the messages had been delivered. Shireen nodded and gave them their new orders. "And I need you to remain here, Aeriel," she laid a hand on Aeriel's shoulder. "If anyone comes, tell them I am still abed."
"But I should come with you."
"No." Shireen wouldn't put her in that danger. "I need you to stay."
"But what about your mother?"
"Anyone, Aeriel. Do I have your word?" Aeriel swallowed. Until now she had been kept to the standard duties of a handmaiden, helping Shireen dress and wash and keep her company. But Shireen would have to make more use of her now. And Aeriel had survived the shipwreck and the trek across the Stormlands, she could withstand her mother. "I believe in you."
Aeriel nodded and Shireen kissed her cheek before turning to her guards, letting serenity slide onto her face. "Let us go."
In the round hall, and the doors that led out into the courtyard opened, Shireen turned to Lynas. "Remember my order, ser Lynas. Whatever you hear, this door does not open again until I give the word."
Lynas nodded, resting his hand on his sword hilt. "As you command, my queen."
Shireen stepped out, her crown heavy on her heart.
Her lords were waiting for her in cloaks and tunics, with their swords on their belts, talking and muttering and disgruntled in the rain. The doors closed behind her and she gave the order that the castle gates be opened. When it did, the word outside visible through the opening, she addressed her lords. "My lords, I thank you for answering my call at this dark hour. But there are matters that must be discussed."
"We discussed much, your grace, last night." Lord Harwood Fell folded his arms over his chest.
"And you are disappointed in me." The candid admission took many of the lords by surprise, they glanced at each other. Lord Fell's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "You do not need to hide it, my lords. I would be disappointed in your place. This war has taken from me my father and my brother, the finest of men. All of you have lost fathers and brothers and sons, I know your pain, and yet showed no compassion for your loss. What I said was true, lord Lester. I do grieve for your son. For all of you who have lost sons.
"I know you swore oaths to my father, and followed him for his strength in battle and the justice of his claim. I know many of you fought at my brother's side, and loved him as I did for his courage and nature. You know as I did that each of them had it in them to be the best of kings, the best the Seven Kingdoms have seen since Aegon landed his dragons at Blackwater Rush. I am not my father. I am not my brother. I have neither their courage nor their skill at arms. Yet I am my father's daughter, and I am my brother's sister, and as the realm has been robbed of them, I will do what I can in their stead. But I will need your help, my lords. If you fight for me in this war and the battles to come, you do so as my fathers and my brothers. And from the day I sit the Iron Throne, I will do so in turn as your mothers and sisters, and you shall have eternal claim on my succour and friendship.
"But to do so will be a long and bloody road. Battles must be fought, lives will be lost on all sides. More brothers and fathers and sons will die, but I will give you reward, justice for your dead and glory for your houses, in return for your loyalty to my family. But if you have decided that that is too much of a price to pay, then I cannot in good faith, command you to pay it. Draw your swords, my lords." One by one, uncertain as could be, the lords around her drew their swords.
Shireen sank to her knees before them, the stone beneath them cold and wet and hard. The rain pattered on her hair, running down her sharp features and falling off the tip of her nose. She saw it sliding down the sharp edges of the swords she needed to win. "Present to me your steel, lord Harwood." Harwood Fell turned his sword and made to hold out the handle.
"No my lord. The tip." He turned the blade and presented it to her. She took the tip of the sword and pressed it against her chest, right above her heart. Before he could speak, she continued. "Present your sword to me, Lord Cuy." One by one, she commanded them thus, taking their swords and pressing them into her flesh so they were nearly piercing her skin. Twenty-one blades that could end her life with a simple thrust.
She angled her head up to look at the hard faces of her lords, battle hardened warriors whom she would need to claim her throne, and spoke the words she had rehearsed with Aeriel when she was dressing. "My lords. Your horses are ready, and the gate is open. If you are not prepared to pay the cost of war for me, then you need not. Simply thrust your swords into my body. I am the last of my house, when I die there is no one to continue the cause. Take my body and you can be halfway to the Lannister battle lines with it before any of my knights could give chase. Present my body to the Lannisters and they will give you peace and gold and thank you for your service, all treason in their eyes will be wiped clean in my blood and there will be no one to seek vengeance on you for it.
"I will only ask that you consider one question before you make your choice. The tyrant Joffrey may give you peace, he may even reward you. But do you believe that he or the Lannisters who hold his inbred leash, will ever trust you so much as to place themselves in your power." She looked at them, at each of them. "The time for choosing has come my lords. Peace, and all that comes with it. Or war and all it entails."
She spread her arms, closed her eyes, bowed her head and waited. Lyonel, father, I'm ready.
A sword was pulled from her belly. Another from her chest. A third from her throat. The rest followed. She heard a soft chink of steel on stone, followed by more. She waited a few seconds, letting her breathing still her heard before she opened her eyes. Harwood Fell was kneeling before her, his sword point down on the stone, his eyes were stoney and resolute. Around him, the rest of her lords did the same. "I am yours, your grace. Come what may."
She got to her feet glided over to him and cupped his cheeks with her fingertips. "Rise, lord Harwood Fell." She did the same with each of them in turn. "Come with me, my lords, we have a war to plan." She ordered the gate closed and turned back to the castle.
The doors opened and the clash of steel on steel sang out into the air. Lords Cuy and Morrigen leapt to her defence, blades out as they entered the halls.
Ser Richard was raining a barrage of blows on ser Lynas who was struggling to fend him off, rapidly retreating and turning his body to ensure he stayed between Richard and the door. Behind Richard, her mother stood, fury and fear on her face.
"Lord Morrigen, announce me, if you would." She said quietly.
"The Queen!" He bellowed at once.
Richard and Lynas broke apart, the latter panting heavily. A little longer and Richard would have killed him, and yet, Lynas had not disobeyed her. He kept his sword raised and pointed at Richard. "Put up your steel, sers," Shireen commanded as she entered the keep.
Richard obeyed at once, Lynas following only when Richard's sword was in its scabbard.
"Your grace, ser Lynas says you commanded him to bar us passage." Her mother said, Shireen noted she had a bow in her hand, snatched from a nearby guardsman, who stood against the wall, aghast and ashamed.
"I did, and ser Lynas carried out his duty as well as any knight. I thank you ser," she touched his arm gently.
"Why?" Her mother asked.
Before Shireen could answer, another called for her. The voice came down the stairs and soon maester Jurne followed it, panting. "Your Grace I-" he looked at the scene before him. "What is happening?"
"The matter is resolved, maester," Shireen said, forcing calm into her voice. "What do you need of me?"
Jurne held up a raven scroll. "News, your grace, from Dragonstone. The attack on the King's Landing docks was a success, and ser Davos has learnt news of great import in the burning. Joffrey Baratheon is dead."
