A/N: The next chapter was not two weeks from now, dear reader.
The worst part about being king, in my estimation, was that you could never stop for even a moment to breathe. Even now, my brother dead, desolate grief weighing on my thoughts like a smothering blanket, I was still plotting. I had to, after all. There were all the political ramifications to consider from one man's death alone; my heir was no longer a man grown of twenty-one years, but a young boy just past his eighth nameday. The Hightowers would want his hand in marriage, no doubt, to replace the one they'd lost. That'd be a painful concession; I'd been hoping to marry him elsewhere, to a Dornish lady perhaps given their more lax view of homosexuality and mistresses.
Perhaps I could find the concession elsewhere. It was hard to tell, honestly. It would require us to return and assess the situation, and by the captain's estimate, that was still two days out. It gave me time to think and to plot, though.
Euron was a threat, plain and simple. He wasn't just a thorn in my side; he'd proven magically powerful, annihilating a number of ships with that storm. Of course I would need to begin my expedition sooner rather than later, but that would require a significant amount of preparation. I couldn't utilize my full force of soldiers, not with trouble afoot, so I was charting out other possibilities.
So far I'd landed on a fairly simple one; I'd take about two hundred soldiers and a fair retinue of courtiers and nobles with me on a tour of the Riverlands. Officially it would be to observe the canal's progress and assess the effectiveness of my programs outside my immediate view in King's Landing. Unofficially, it would be to reaffirm my control in the Crown and Riverlands, while seeking out a new leader for my guards. And in truth, it would be much simpler than that; I wanted to give my soldiers experience on a long march. The summer rains would turn much of the terrain muddy, and that would offer as much a challenge as I could give them without bringing them up to the North and its snowy expanses.
I also wanted to check in on my new knightly order; its brother order in the Reach was a distant option at the moment, just as my University was. But proof of concept here would lend trust to me, and I could work from there in the Reach. With chaos in the Iron Islands, it was increasingly important that the western Riverlands be protected from reavers and raiders - which, speaking of, I'd appointed Brynden as Fist of the King for the time being, in order to give him the authority to carry out the Stepstones campaign.
Besides that, I'd been considering that archipelago Farwynd had found. Nothing like it seemed to exist in the books, so far as I knew. It was a genuinely new, uncertain variable. So many of them shuffling around, out of sight. What was the phrase? Known unknowns, and unknown unknowns?
I took a deep breath, standing from the small but comfortable chair I'd been lounging in. Edmure quickly snapped to attention, still looking a bit pale and clammy but no longer actively heaving over the railing. I had so many shadows around me, these days. They loomed over the coffin, same as I did. It was a simple thing, only meant to convey Stannis to King's Landing before he could be buried with honor and dignity.
I ran my fingers along the smooth, untreated wood. Whatever contemplation I'd been working through passed quickly as I sucked in a breath, plucking the newfound splinter free. Foolish of me not to handle it with gloves. Foolish of me to…
"Come," I said, more to disrupt my own line of thought than from any urgency. "Let's get abovedecks," I announced - though my shadows would have followed anyway.
King's Landing had changed so much and so little since I'd become king. It stank less strongly of shit, with the sewers and cisterns repaired in many places. It was still uncomfortably filthy, but far less than it had been to begin with. In addition, I'd encouraged other hygiene practices; one of the most important was the construction of bathhouses close to the Blackwater's shore. I was still in a row with the Septons about it - they were worried it would be a hit to public morality - but the effects of cleanliness simply had to outweigh their concerns.
The Faith was as much an ally as it was a potential adversary. Every time I granted them powers and strength, they could grow more capable of challenging my own. And yet they were also a major source of power for me in turn; with their ability to sway public opinion and their base of learned men - the only one capable of remotely challenging the Maesters - I needed them on my side for now at the least.
Still, once my link schools and eventually the University provided me with learned men for my needs, I could safely wean myself from relying on their help. As I stepped off the boat onto the shore, I noted with satisfaction that a retinue of my own guard came to greet me, resplendent in their well maintained arms and armor. They parted slightly, and I saw the reason so many of them were here; Lyanna was astride her new horse, one hand on the reins and the other protectively laid over her stomach.
I offered her a small, slightly grim smile of my own to match hers. As the men carrying Stannis' coffin marched down onto the dock, her expression became sad. I joined her on my own horse soon after, my shadows following and the pallbearers conveying Stannis to the nearest sept to be fully prepared for his funeral.
"How have things been in the city?" I asked, looking out across the streets we passed by. Watching a guard fine a man for dumping his waste on the road instead of into one of the drains, I nodded slightly before returning my attention to my wife.
"Not badly. Oh, don't get me wrong - there's been the usual plots and plans and power plays. But…" She seemed a little reluctant to admit the next bit. "I will confess that your foster father is as competent as they come."
"And why is that so hard to admit?" I asked curiously, glancing over at her.
"Because…" She huffed a sigh. "We argued a bit about solutions, went with his, and he was right." She sounded irritated just by the thought.
"I would hope so. Jon's a good man." I looked out across the city, noting with pleasure that some of my men were handing out food at the orphanages. As we turned to begin up the road to the Red Keep, I noticed with grim satisfaction that the statue of the man who had inadvertently saved me was finally finished. The likeness wasn't exact; his face had been a ruin after the attack, and my memory of him before had been hazy. But it acted both as a sign of my magnanimity and a subtle reminder of 'Targaryen' treachery.
"Yes, well… We'll see. Will you return to the Stepstones after the funeral?" Lyanna asked, looking at me curiously. My message had been very brief before my return, just conveying Stannis' passing.
"No, Brynden will oversee the campaign in my absence. I've been thinking of going on a tour of the Riverlands." I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.
"A tour," Lyanna said flatly. I met her eyes, doing my best to convey with subtle gestures that we would talk it over more thoroughly in the Keep. She nodded at that. "Well, good. You'll have to mollify Lord Hightower a bit, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what he'll get up to in order to marry into the royal line." Her lips thinned as she shook her head. "Aly has locked herself in her room, and she's my source of information in that camp. Poor girl, she really was smitten with Stannis."
As we slipped through the gates, I considered the information at hand. Lord Jon was waiting for us there, looking grim. "I'll speak with you more later tonight," I told Lyanna, and she nodded.
"If I was in the right shape, I'd say meet me in the godswood, but I suppose he would make a fuss. So be it," she said, working to dismount with the aid of one of her maids' assistance.
As for myself, I dismounted with the help of my squire and walked towards Lord Jon. "Dark wings, dark words," he said, clutching my message in his fingers.
"Indeed," I offered. "Though from what I hear, that storm manifested as if from nothing."
"And from whom do you hear this?" He asked, curious. His long stride matched mine well as we sought out my solar.
"Admittedly, only from some of our ships docked in Dorne. But it is a queer thing, is it not?" I asked, looking to him.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps it is just the idle chatter of the common folk. You know how they can be," He explained.
"I won't deny that, but neither can I dismiss the possibility that they are right in some way. Regardless, I didn't intend to speak only of rumours. What news is there in the city?" I asked, curious to see Jon's side of things. He interacted more with the lords as Hand, and could offer me different information.
"Precious little, admittedly, besides that you already know. The talk of the city is the crown Prince's death; his men were very disheartened by it. Lord Marbrand has asked me to convey to you the latest figures in the treasury, but we can attend to that at the meeting tomorrow." He paused, thinking. "Lord Hightower will need to be appeased in some manner, now that Lady Alysanne's marriage to Stannis has become an impossibility, though I suspect you knew that. Oh," he said, remembering something. "Lord Orys wished to speak to you about the first results from your magistrate courts."
"But that can be covered at the meeting," I finished for him. "And you, Jon? How is Lysa?" I asked, as we settled into chairs in the solar, my shadows staying behind aside from my food taster.
"In truth, I feel very distant from her. I suppose it's not surprising; I am older than her father. Would that my Jeyne or Rowena had lived…" He muttered the last bit, reclining back.
"Aye. The best you can do is encourage her slowly. I think Lyanna is doing her best to help the girl acclimatize to King's Landing and truly settle in." I offered, sipping my own wine.
"Hmm, true. She has been a little more lively these past moons." He said, stroking his short beard thoughtfully.
"Speaking of liveliness, I intend to embark on a tour up to the canal. I'd like to see what all my dragons have gone to along the way. And, well, I need to reassure my lords a bit." I bit my lip thoughtfully and continued. "And the soldiers need to get used to long marches. Gods know no matter how well they fight, if they can't march to where I need them without falling apart, they're useless to me."
"A fair point. I've had some reports from Lord Wyman that there has been discontent among the lords whose common-folk you've been hiring, though it's only grumblings now." Jon offered.
"They haven't yet seen the profits of my efforts, only the costs. It's only natural that they might question. Any specific names?" I asked, curious.
"Lord Wyman pointed out Hawick, Darry, and Lychester. Oh, and Mooton. He seems to be the loudest grumbler of all; he presented himself at your magistrate court and demanded an injunction on peasants leaving his lands. The injunction was denied, of course. King Aegon abolished villeinage; not even Lord Tywin's rollbacks could remove that." Jon considered it for a long moment. "I suspect they are the hardest hit by these works of yours; men leaving not just to work on roads, but the canal and the link schools too." He raised his hands gently. "They are good projects, no doubt, but they will cause discomfort for lords. Be wary of moving too quickly, Robert; you have decades ahead of you to finish these projects of yours."
Well, maybe a decade and a half. Things went to shit in 300 AC and it was the start of 285 now. At that point my entire focus would be on fighting the others and, let's be frank, I'd probably die during it.
Fun stuff.
"True. Do you have any news about the Ironborn disputes?" I asked, somewhat hopefully.
He let out a long sigh, and I sipped from my wine, digging in to hear the bad news. "I have been doing my best to mediate and create peace where I can, limited though my influence is among the islanders. In that regard, Lord Rodrik Harlaw has been of great help; as a fairly neutral and cautious influence, he's been working to keep them from each other's throats."
"But that sounds good. What's wrong?" I asked, squinting now.
"We received word two days past… as he was returning to his castle from a meeting with the lords of Great Wyk, he was ambushed and killed." Jon looked down at his cup grimly.
My brows flared in shock at that. "What?" I spat out, surprised. "Who killed him?"
"A few common captains and their crew. Both factions are claiming the other did it, and now they're at each other's throats again." He spread his hands, carefully holding the cup to avoid spilling. "And now I have no one to assist me in stopping them."
"Have they questioned the captains?" I asked, hoping for more information.
"That's the problem. Lord Rodriks' sons sought out vengeance of their own. If the reports Lord Wyman offers me are correct, the captains are still hanging from the Ten Towers now."
…
I spoke to Lyanna that night about my hopes for the expedition Beyond the Wall. She took it in stride as best she could, considering it thoroughly. "The Watch will have to be bolstered anyway," she finally decided. "They need to be able to defend the folk of the Gift. Do so now, and I'm sure Lord Commander Qhorgyle will be glad to return the favor when the time comes for your expedition."
"Aye," I said, my thoughts a little distant. "I'll send word and see what I can aid them with. Though of course, it's always the same with the Watch - more men." I paused, thinking. "I just don't know how to get around that trap. They can't replenish themselves, not with their vows of chastity. It's why I avoided that with the Knights of the Scale."
"You can hardly go changing things for the Watch without so much as a by your leave, dear. They're an ancient order, and they get quite frosty when change is suggested." She shrugged, continuing to comb through her own hair, having refused the help of her maids. "I'm sure you can come to some solution when you meet the Lord Commander."
"Aye. But it'll have to be sooner than later, if the settlers in the Gift are to be protected." I shook my head, then looked down. Always the same place. "And how has the babe been?"
"Busy," She said with a huff. "He kicks and kicks. But at least he doesn't make me as sick as Brandon did."
"And you're sure it's a he? Maester Pycelle said -" I offered, before being cut off.
"I'm sure," She said. "Whatever Maester Pycelle says, I know how it felt to carry Brandon; this is about the same. Or… well, he is a little more active."
"Right," I said, a little dubiously. "You know if it's a girl I'll be just as -" I was cut off abruptly when she gently thwacked me with the back of her brush.
"Enough of that. Gods, you sound like Pycelle. I'm sure, Robert. Alright?" She asked, going back to combing her hair.
"Alright," I said, wrapping my arms around her from the back and staring out the window. The choppy waves of the bay were catching the last sunlight's rays on their caps.
…
The small council meeting did indeed prove eventful.
As I sat down at the head, Jon by my side and Stannis' seat - Bryndens, now - conspicuously empty, I looked around at the lords assembled. From these men, my power flowed; my will was made known and carried out. Some were better suited for their tasks than others; Lord Allyrion was not the greatest Master of Ships, but he did his best, so far as I could tell. Others - my eyes flicked across familiar faces - were much better suited. Lord Wyman simply met my gaze with an impassive smile.
"My Lords," I finally spoke. "As you know, my brother the Prince passed during the fighting in the Stepstones. I would like to hear your reports and counsel as I determine my next course of action."
Lord Allyrion was first to speak, likely because his work was most relevant to the Stepstones. "Our shipwrights are hard at work repairing what they can. Of course, the most damaged ships are still trapped in the Stepstones, and will need to be patched before they can seek a full repair. I also have good news; four dromonds near completion and only need crews."
I nodded my head. "Do what you must to repair the ships. We'll be relying on them to seize the Stepstones." Then I looked towards the next man down the line - our Master of Laws.
Lord Orys cleared his throat. "The magistracy courts are doing well enough, your Grace. I am sure you and our Lord Hand have noticed a reduction in petitioners." He paused, frowning. "Lord Burr has defied a ruling by one of your judges. With the approval of Lord Jon, I dispatched the force at my disposal to seek justice. It will be the first great test of theirs - and the courts."
"Right. See to it he is made an example of. Better a few harsh reminders now than constant rebellion in the future." I said, running my fingers along my chin thoughtfully.
"Lord Tully?" I asked hopefully, looking to my Master of Roads.
"The roads have seen markedly less banditry, your grace, especially within the domains the Knights of the Scale patrol. Commerce has begun to flow well upon them, and the messenger posts are acquiring riders as fast as I can purchase horses. They have already begun to bring in their first revenues; I expect the service shall pay for itself soon enough." He paused, considering something. "Though we will need to be careful of the spring deluge. It is hard to say how the new bridges will hold up until they have been tested."
"Aye, true. I will earmark some funds to be reserved for repairing bridges if they collapse." At that I looked to Lord Marbrand, whose face contorted slightly in thought.
"Your Grace, the treasury is still fairly lush. I anticipate that after your projects are paid for and accounting for ongoing expenses like your soldiers and the war in the Stepstones, there should be somewhere between six and seven hundred thousand dragons left. Not quite the coffers you inherited from King Aerys, but we have yet to see the full dues of your efforts paid out. Your tax collectors will begin that process in two or three moons, once the summer rains have passed." He offered, taking a long draught from his wine.
"Speaking of projects… Maester Pycelle, what news do you have?" I asked.
"Ah… I have been working on the various projects you've offered, Your Grace. Some are steadily along and I should have a working prototype soon. As to your schooling efforts, it seems the first successes are already showing themselves. Perhaps forty or fifty men learned in their letters and various disciplines have been hired as you commanded; the rest have been finding work nearby." He threaded his fingers through his beard. "I'm sure the smallfolk know exactly who to thank for the men healing their children and the like."
"Having men who know their numbers has been very useful," Lord Marbrand commented. "If only we didn't have to pay for so much paper."
"Good," I said. I took the reports from Lord Wyman and Hightower next, both brief; the former because the more detailed reports were offered later, the latter because he had little to report. After that I announced my tour, making arrangements as necessary with the council before dismissing them.
"My lord," Wyman said, after the rest had filed out. "I am sure Lord Jon has relayed the information we have received about the Iron Islands. In that regard, we have learned nothing new. But -" he paused, pulling free a parchment from within a pocket and offering it to me.
"I have had reports trickle in today that something is afoot…" He said, before launching into an explanation.
…
The tour was going quite well so far, in my estimation. I'd passed through a number of my castles on a meandering path, reaffirming the loyalty of my castellans and stewards, taking stock of the soldiers they had on hand, the taxes they'd pulled in, all that good stuff. It was a pleasant surprise how eager they were to prove themselves; likely they knew this was the best possible path they had, as second and third sons. If you can't be a lord of a castle, being a respected castellan or steward of it was the next best bet.
Tonight there was no castle to rest in, only a small village. That was fine enough; I'd paid the innkeeper there for the usage of the whole place, that my noble courtiers could bed down somewhere comfortable for the night.
My soldiers were camped out in a clear-cut area nearby, setting their tents in neat rows and practicing good watch skills like I'd taught them. There were two hundred of them in all; a sizable retinue, but a necessary one.
I looked out the small window of the inn. If my estimates were right, we'd be able to make it to Maidenpool the next day. That would be a delight; I'd love to speak to Lord Mooton about all this business with that injunction.
Maybe I could come to a satisfying solution for everyone involved.
…
Nah, who am I kidding.
A/N
Whoo boy, where to begin. Well, hello there. After two and a half years of hiatus, I think I'm finally ready to work on this again. As to why it took two and a half years… I'd lost a lot of my steam after the last update, and couldn't get myself to work on the next chapter. The longer it took, the worse I felt for leaving it behind. Eventually I'd forgotten all the details I kept crammed in my head, and couldn't even continue if I wanted to. So - you won't get the exact story I had in mind when I first set out on this journey. But you will get as much of a story as I can write, with quality that hopefully holds up to the first part. And if I feel myself running out of steam again, I might opt to offer a bullet-points list of plot points yet to be covered. I'd rather you guys get some closure than none at all for another two and a half (or longer) years.
To those of you who've stuck with this story or somehow found it well after it was relevant, I thank you. Your continued support kept this story's flame burning, small though it was, until I was ready to pick up my metaphorical pen again.