The Army of the Stepstones Rumor mill 1
(Viserys POV)
King Viserys was eager with the messages that were soon to arrive. For months you had been trapped with the many joyless matters of state, even more with the very real weight off your shoulders—the weight of your succession. You could focus more of your energies, when not caring for Baelon, towards your wishes and dreams. Otto was an immense help with those matters, and while you did not have Lucien commanding the City Watch, you were confident that the excellent subordinates, what Ser Wendwater called the Lads… were keeping the city well and safe.
Enough to where you did not need to spend your nights escaping the red Keep and battling the scum of the city.
The other Lords of the Small council did not have the same enthusiasm. Even if it was you wishing for the news of the Stepstones.
"Must we postpone the matters of state for missives that may not arrive today?" Lord Beesbury questioned as he drank more wine. "The Stepstones Campaign has been nothing short of a repudiation of your rule, and your foreign policy goals of neutrality in the East?" He questioned. "The Triarchy, Tariffs ludicrous and brilliantly forced on Westerosi shipping notwithstanding, have only seen coffers increase as we have increased our interests in the other, Northern Free Cities." He took a moment to breathe, and he put his hands down with a sigh. "We are playing a game we have been winning for years, your grace." He was stopped by another voice. That of your Lord's Hand.
A silent nod that had been learned over a decade of rule.
You wanted to change the subject now, to your daughter, brother, and cousin.
"Your words have been taken under advisement, Lord Beesbury." He stated as the Maester, Orweyle, walked into the room, carrying scores of Parchment.
"Messages your Grace, from the Stepstones, From Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, and Lord Corlys." He stated.
"Not a word from Prince Lucien?" He asked.
"He has been taken abed your grace, his adventure to Astapor has exhausted him." Orweyle stated.
"More like he has been exhausted by your daughter and her friend." Lord Strong jokes and everyone laughed at that. Though it was quiet, Lord Strong realized he may have gone too far.
As much as you try to avoid the subject of your daughter's very public sex life… It was never enough. At least she was staying with her husband when doing things of that nature.
It was one of the rare moments that made you think back to your own mother… the same words father used to describe her before he died, right after Rhaenyra was born. "Fiery, passionate, with two loves. Flying and fucking. If the gods are kind, she will be exactly like her, and more."
It seems your daughter had taken far more from your mother than you cared to admit. And you had allowed her to become a wild child.
"What did Lord Corlys report?" He asked.
Orweyle took a moment to read the message, before passing them to Otto. "He has reported the loss of fifty Triarchy battle Galleys are at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, with twenty more captured by Ironborn Reavers, who have claimed them as war loot."
You frowned. Giving Greyjoy anything was always a risk, but you had expected that much from the Farwynd boy and his crews. He was loyal. "And?"
"The Triarchy's naval strength has been sapped. Myr and Tyrosh are under a heavy blockade, and any ship leaving the ports is set to the torch, or captured." He replied.
"It seems the Sea Snake has not lost a step when it comes to sailing and city blockades?" Lord Strong stated. "How long until he turns his ships on other lords? How many have they lost?"
"Ten longships, but their numbers have been replenished." The Maester replied.
That made the Maester close his first letter and report before he looked at the next one. "From Prince Daemon."
He slid it over again, to Otto, before the hand slid it over to you.
The Message was short, curt, and to the point, as always.
"Half the Stepstones have fallen and are cut off from their master. They are under siege with weak garrisons and no supplies. The War in the Northern Stepstones will be over in months, maybe less.
Daemon."
You chuckled. "How many castles were being besieged in the northern Stepstones Maester when the Free cities last tried to take the Stepstones?"
"Only two your Grace, and they were beaten back by the Pirate Lords." He stated. "That was before the prince Admiral expelled the Pirate Courts, and forced them into exile."
You smiled. "And how many of those same lords are under a common cause to us?"
Otto was the one who answered. "Your Grace, I must continue to protest that hiring these pirate captains and fleets will only embolden them once the Triarchy is defeated, they may turn against you."
You smiled. "Oh I believe they will see profit in a continued partnership, I am well told that the gold we paid them was more than enough to sway them for life."
At that, you looked at the letter from Rhaenyra. You then noticed it was scrapped, scribbled, and not unlike your daughter's hand. "What is this?" you asked.
Maester Orwyle took a moment to think… before he choked. "The… translated Valyrian trade speak reads… "I am fucking Lucien three times a day and four times a night with Alicent by my side, and winning honors as a dragon rider like old Valyria of old, and you will soon be a grandfather."
Your face became red, and you placed your hands on your face.
You needed to teach your daughter the simple words you learned with Daemon.
Though Daemon failed to learn it.
Having restraint.
"Congratulations your Grace." Otto replied with a small smile on his face. He was going to be professional, yes, but this news was utterly… not what you expected. Much less from a vulgar bastard tongue that she tried to code it in.
You needed to go be alone and think. "I think we are ending this meeting early. This news is overwhelming."
By the Love of the Gods… You needed a bath to get the image of her being fucked by Lucien and Alicent out of your head.
And you left, a skip in your step, as you prepared to write replies.
AN: Enjoy.
