Oh God, am I the Mannis now? - GoT/SI
- Thread starter Sir Rabby
- Start date
Fluffy
Destroyer of.......most worlds
- Location
- High Earth Orbit
correct me if im wrong, but in the regular ASOIAF continuity, wasnt it both littlefinger and varys who set up all the things so the dragons could return?283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
The crowd on the sides of the parades were cheering themselves hoarse and I didn't throw them so much as a single coin. Their elation was one of pure relief at the end of the war. They'd scream themselves hoarse for the Targaryens had they won their war.
I found that their screams meant very little me. I had other things on my mind.
"Seven blessings for Prince Stannis!"
I couldn't keep my mind off of the body. The images of scorched remains, the cut up limbs and the vile stench of refuge have yet to release their hold on me. I keep trying to convince myself that it was no worse than everything I'd already been through. That after all the death I'd seen, and more than a few times caused, this shouldn't be bothering me so.
I've only truly known him for a year.
"Praise the Baratheons!"
It's not working.
"Prince Stannis!"
There's a rather large difference in defending yourself on your walls and going out to actively harm people. I'm not claiming the Siege of Storm's End didn't affect me, but nothing like this. Not even the small raids I dared could have prepared me for this. I had brought a little over six thousand men with me to the battles in the Blackwater and I managed to bring five thousand three hundred back.
Five thousand three hundred out of six thousand.
I lost seven hundred men.
Seven hundred.
Why did Robert put me in charge of this?
"Down with the Dragons!"
This should bother me more, and yet there was this nagging traitorous voice in the back of my mind telling me I knew damn well that the only casualty that mattered to me was Merryn. His suddenly aborted scream was stuck on replay and I couldn't get rid of it. Even attempting to bury it deep fills me with a deep sense of disquiet. Perhaps I deserve this.
Perhaps I owe it to Merryn to suffer it unflinchingly.
All the death, all the destruction...the horrors that happened after Dragonstone fell should bother me more. That should be what keeps me up at night and yet I can't find it within me to care. Most of the casualties came from Redwyne and Crownlands troops. My own Stormbringers didn't get through it unscathed, but even their deaths seem to weigh rather light on my shoulders.
Just that...gurgle.
"Hail the Stags!"
They say you can see the light go out of someones eyes when they die. That you can sense that final moment just before death, when it all becomes so irreversibly real. I wouldn't know.
I was too busy stepping over his...
I snapped out my thoughts when I reached the dais the King stood upon in front of the Red Keep and knelt down in front of him. Next to Robert stood his aging Hand, both flanked by their respective squires, whose gaze seemingly burned a hole in the back of my head. I heard my captains and other officers kneel down behind me just as a hush of quiet falls over the gathered crowd.
"Ten days ago, on the blessed day of the Warrior, I sent my brother to deal the final blow to the last remaining Targaryen bastions within our Realm. Driftmark and Dragonstone refused to surrender. Despite my fondest wishes they settled in for one last act of defiance on behalf of their absent masters."
A solitary voice rang over crowd, "Bless the Good King Robert!"
Ever the entertainer my Kingly brother smiled and waved. Short after he continued, "It took three final battles, but our war is over my people! The Dragon's repugnant specter no longer haunts us. Victory is ours! Peace is ours!"
The tremendous roar of approval from the crowd was almost a physical sensation. Their screams came crashing over us and I could tell Robert was cherishing the moment. My overly muscled brother slowly raised a hand and the host of onlookers quieted down.
"Rise, my noble brother. Rise, and come take your pride of place beside me!"
I slowly got to my feet and came to the awkward realization I would have to back around to get to the stairs leading to the platform. Robert smirked widely as he took note of my annoyance and simply extended his hand towards me. I gripped him by the wrist and suddenly found myself flying towards the dais. Unsteady I grabbed hold of Robert to keep from falling over.
That's going to hurt for a while.
I kept up a firm plastic smile, put my arm on Robert's far shoulder, and turned to the crowd gathered before the steps of the Red Keep. I cleared my throat and said, "The Targaryens left Dragonstone many moons ago, but shamefully hid this from their men. I did not fight bloodthirsty monsters. I did not slay scores of vile beasts..."
Another brief quiet moment, "I fought brave men, honorable men, who were tragically misguided by their betters. Who were horrifically abused by their lords. Brave men who wanted for nothing more than to protect their liege. Please, people of King's Landing, join me in silent prayer for all that fell in this harrowing past year. Pray for our lost kin and friends. Pray for everyone the Dragons cost us."
My chin hit my chest, my hands interlocked in front of me, and within moments an eerie quiet hung over the city. In distance seagulls could faintly be heard, but almost miraculously all the other sounds of the metropolis seemed to fall away.
After a long moment I faintly I heard Robert whisper, "Good gods, how long are you going to drag this out?"
Perhaps I'm an asshole, because even with all the terrible things on my mind I couldn't resist. Without moving my lips I replied, "Until I get the feeling in shoulder back, Robert."
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
Almost before I stepped into my room I was assaulted by a particularly small blur. Renly launched himself at me and I caught the little bugger just in time. Within moments I had my littlest brother crushed against my chest with Renly making a fair attempt at doing the same with my neck.
Renly craned his head back a bit before solemnly saying, "Thank the gods you're back, Stannis."
Oh gods, he was just so earnest when he said that I could swear some unseen assassin had managed to stab me in the chest. I didn't really have an answer for him, so instead I just put my forehead to his and smiled.
"Have you been good, little man?"
That didn't exactly get the lighthearted response I was looking for. Instead Renly paled and suddenly diverted his gaze from me. What could that possibly mean? I walked, with Renly still attached to me, over to my bed and sat down on it.
Renly still hadn't spoken a word and I was getting rather worried.
"Little man?"
The only response I got was the sudden shaking that came over Renly. It didn't take long for me to realize my little brother was sobbing against my chest and mumbling something. I ran my hand through his hair and gently pushed his head back.
"I-I'm s-sorry S-Stannis."
What happened?
All could think of was that little Renly thought he must have disappointed me somehow. Instead of attempting to question him I just quietly pulled out my handkerchief. I cupped his small face with one hand and wiped away his even smaller tears with my other. Afterward I settled in to wait him out, knowing from personal experience that pushing small children just doesn't work.
Impulsively I asked him, "I can't accept your apology if I don't know what it's for, little brother."
Renly quickly glanced up at me, but even quicker cast his gaze down before softly speaking up, "I..." Another long moment of silence passed before Renly breathed in deeply and continued, "I shamed you brother. I...I tried to stop that....that..."
Again he fell silent. He soon rallied though and I swore I could detect a whiff of anger in his tone, "I tried to stop you from..,marrying that Tyrell woman."
Oh...shit.
What could he have possibly done?
I frowned a little and asked him, "How?"
Renly finally looked up at me again before saying, "I lied, Stannis. I lied to the King! To Robert, so he would stop you from marrying the Tyrell!"
Elation that Renly tried, in his own way, to be help me warred within me with the annoyance that was he might be getting in the way of the best chance this Kingdom has of staying in one piece. This marriage was important.
Once again I ran my hand through his hair and gentle nudged him to continue.
"Grandfather was so angry when he found out, Stannis. He wouldn't speak to me for days..."
When he trailed off something in me snapped. How dare that piece of shit toy with Renly? What kind of a person ignores a child! Lord Gunther fucking Estermont. Only worry about what Robert might have done stopped me from running out to give the old bastard a piece of my mind.
"And Robert?"
Renly paled again before replying, "He sent Ser Marius to collect the pension lists from Storm's End." The little bugger gazed down when he continued, "He ordered me write apologies to each of the families that lost someone in our service. He...he said I risked adding more people on the list. I'm sorry, Stannis, I didn't know!"
Well, damn. I have to admit that Robert keeps impressing me. Perhaps I really am rubbing off on him, because I sincerely doubt he gave a shit about all the people dying in the original time line. I mentally put the rather insidious punishment out of my mind and planted a kiss on the little bugger's forehead.
"I see. I'm not exactly pleased with you Renly, but Robert already punished you and I'm unwilling to add to that."
The bright smile that the little blighter flashed me was utterly adorable. I couldn't help but ask though, "So...what did you lie about?"
Renly took a deep breath and replied, "I claimed I saw the Tyrell woman kiss a Reach knight."
Wow.
Wow.
"Sneaky."
Again he diverted his gaze down, "Who did you pin it on?"
Renly looked confused for a moment before replying, "The Green Fossaway."
What.
Holy shit, was that just a wild guess? Wasn't Janna to be married to a Fossaway if I hadn't messed things up? How could Renly possibly come up with this?
"Why him?"
The little blighter simply shrugged and said, "He looks at the Tyrell woman like Robert looks at Lady Lyanna."
Well then.
Faintly chuckling I told Renly, "Perhaps you should stop calling her that, little man."
Renly frowned and almost immediately responded, "I understand, but I will not call her my sister."
Wow.
I probably shouldn't have started laughing.
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
I was counting down the minutes until the feast was done. A veritable tidal wave of praise and compliments were thrown my way and I was getting tired of having to field empty smile after empty smile. Renly and little Beric had already been sent to their respective beds, but I would find no such reprieve.
Lady Olenna Tyrell just wouldn't shut up, "I must say, that was a fairly surprising turn of events. Young men generally are loathe to share the glory, so to speak."
What's her point?
She continued, "Why aren't you?"
I just shrugged and replied, "Why wouldn't I? Lord Redwyne discharged his duties superbly."
Lord Gunther Estermont couldn't help himself, "Rewarding excellent service has always been a Baratheon staple, my Lady."
Sensing that this particular subject has come to an end, Olenna simply pivoted.
"Speaking of duties, pray tell Prince Stannis. Who shall take over your duties in the Crownlands?"
Gods be damned.
She's putting me on the spot. I haven't even discussed this with Arryn, or any of the others yet, and now the Queen of Thorns is trying to get me to stake out a position.
"I imagine, my lady, whomever is most suited to the responsibility."
She rolled her eyes. She actually just rolled her eyes and replied, "What an exquisitely empty answer. Shall we try again, my Prince?"
Thankfully Mace interrupted her with a quiet and insistent, "Mother!"
"Oh pah dear, very well. Why don't you regale us then, Mace?"
Something felt off about the situation, and yet I could not quite place it. At least the boredom had abated now an actual game seemed to be afoot. Mace's smile was just a touch to wide, his earlier vehemence slightly more insistent than I thought him capable of and Janna hasn't said more than a few words all night.
Something was off.
Mace cleared his throat and spoke, "As you may know, on the next day of the Stranger our bank will officially be opened with a grand celebration. That same evening the very first public shares shall be sold."
Olenna jumped in, "Public auction? How delightfully peculiar. I wouldn't presume to know overmuch about the inner workings of such a financial institution, nor would I be inclined to care overmuch but for the rather upsetting notion that you have sunk millions into it."
Alright, she has concerns about the bank. Fair enough. Why air them in public?
Oddly enough Lord Tywin spoke next, "Even if to some they might appear overwhelming, surely such an august House as the Tyrells wouldn't be ruined by the potential loss of such sums?"
Mace flinched ever so slightly and I let a breath out I didn't know I was holding. The moment Tywin opened his mouth scenarios of Tyrell and Lannister collusion raced through my mind. Thank fuck that wasn't the case. Perhaps Olenna noticed Mace floundering for she interjected, "Certainly, my Lord. House Tyrell neither fears nor dreads financial ruin. Not while hunger and thirst are yet to be banished from this world."
Well, shots fired.
Tywin simply raised an eyebrow and quietly replied, "Ah, how could I forget. Your prized fields are always certain to perform well, and yet those same fields might have found their betters in the Stormlands."
Oh crap.
I did not want the conversation headed that way.
Olenna immediately fired back, "Undoubtedly, Prince Stannis has worked miracles. I do wonder what shall happen once his farming implements are put to use in Highgarden."
No. No. Damn it.
From the corner of my eye I caught the faint twitching on his temple before he responded, "I imagine your vassals shall rejoice, quite a fair bit." An unseemly pause stretched before he added, "My Lady."
Now Olenna was the one with the set jaw. I'm sure she did not relish the implications that Tywin was casting. The Tyrells already have a fairly loose grip on the Reach, but it might grow looser once the relative advantage of Highgarden diminishes.
My largest bannermen, Lord Caron of Nightsong , who could field a little over five thousand men. I, on my own, from my personal fiefdom of Storm's End could raise a little under ten thousand. My advantage over my bannermen is that no single one of them could ever challenge me.
Of course, they would never come alone.
In the Westerlands, House Lannister has a similar situation. From the lands surrounding Casterly Rock, and Lannisport, the Lannisters could raise twelve thousand men. Their largest bannermen, the Lord of Crakehall, could only field four thousand. To make matters worse, Tywin employs the only standing army in Westeros and keeps it mustered at eight thousand men.
Our relative positions to our vassals are great.
House Tyrell could raise a little over twenty thousand men. A truly staggering number on the face of it. And yet...House Hightower could also raise twenty thousand men. House Tarly could raise sixteen thousand. The Florents could push out a decent thirteen thousand. The Redwynes simply own the coasts.
House Tyrell's might can be checked by House Hightower. With the Hightowers, nobody can challenge them in the Reach, but then again...no sane Tyrell would want to face the Reach with only the Hightowers at their side.
Without the Hightowers...well, its not pretty.
Unfortunately I didn't to hear Olenna's response as Mace piped up, "As I was saying, our very first public auction of shares in Stag, Pride and Rose will soon be upon us." Mace turned to me and continued, "Do you believe anyone could purchase enough shares to threaten our position, Stannis?"
Ah.
"That depends on whether Lord Hoster can convince our esteemed Hand of the King to purchase then on behalf of the Crown."
Olenna seemed to have recomposed herself enough to offer, "Which he, himself, would control as the Master of Coin?"
Yes.
"Indeed, my Lady."
Now it was Mace's turn again, "In which case, he could...potentially, exercise the Crown's shares as well as his own?"
This was a concern that I shared as well, and yet I could not deny Lord Hoster. It was a reasonable request and there was no reason I could use to keep the Crown out of my bank.
"Not potentially. He will, indeed, be able to exercise both. Of course, should be misuse that prerogative, there are procedures in place to limit the office of Master of Coin."
Now Tywin was the one frowning, "And should Lord Hoster acquire sufficient funds to purchase the majority of the shares?"
Did they not comprehend that I wrote the bylaws of the bank? Did they really believe that I'd let control over my largest, and hopefully most effective, tool...slip through my fingers?
I smiled a watery grin and replied, "In which case, Lord Hoster will have acquired the Chairman's position on the Board of the bank. He would, theoretically, have a controlling stake in the enterprise."
Mace jumped in once again, "Surely we should act to avoid such an outcome?"
I simply nodded. What else was I supposed to do? Give away my plans? Between the Tyrells, the Lannisters, the money lenders in King's Landing and myself we have managed to raise close to ten million Dragons. A truly staggering sum.
A mind blowing sum.
And yet, I scavenged across all of Essos to acquire lines of credit for more cash from every single financial institution the continent boasted. Of course, I saved the largest potential loan for the Iron Bank of Braavos. I'd leveraged my royal paper license, my personal little monopoly, as collateral for as much cash as I was willing to take. From some reason Braavos was highly interested in getting their greedy little hooks in me.
Was it a risk?
Sure, but then I'd be able to match anything, anyone, could come up with at the opening of the bank. Of course, this particular contingency rested on the idea that neither the Tyrells nor the Lannisters would be interested in purchasing more stock. Especially considering Tywin fronted my slice of the seedfunding for the bank on top of his own.
I didn't think he would be willing to sell out more. Would the Tyrells be?
Was that why he was bringing this up?
Olenna spoke up once again, "What would you suggest, Mace?"
With a slight smirk the Flower of Flowers responded, "Surely it is for the best if control rests solely with us?" Before even waiting for a response he continued, "In light of that, I would propose we dig deep and shore up our own golden master shares. Of course, I am willing to match whatever we need in order to ensure our supremacy."
Shit.
Tywin nodded and replied, "Quite right."
Shit, shit, shit.
What was left for me to say? I'd have to go along with them. Before I could respond however, one of the servants pressed a note into my hand. Subtly, I unfurled it under the table and tried to mask my incredulity. Lady Lysa Arryn wished to speak with me, at my convenience. What in gods name could she want from me? I've barely spoken a word with her, but any excuse to extract myself from this conversation was welcome.
I slowly made my way across the Great Hall, getting accosted by all and sunder all the way through, until I finally made it through the monstrous gates. Right across from them Lysa was waiting for me.
"My prince, thank you for granting me an audience. I do hope I did not inconvenience you, for I would greatly mislike doing so."
Well, she's laying it on thick, "Not at all, my Lady. Please, what can I do for you?"
Lysa fidgeted around her cloak for a moment before asking, "Perhaps we could take a short walk, my prince?"
Well then...
"Of course, my lady."
I extended my arm, she hooked one of her dainty little hands around it, and walk we did. We did not go very far, but when we reached the outer parts of the Red Keep I was met with a startling sight.
"My prince, I would like to introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine. You..." Lysa looked up at me and continued, "You have a reputation for seeing the best in people, my prince. I would call on your best nature and hope to sway you to hear my friend's plight."
A young man, with intense blue eyes and an easy smile gave me a practiced smile. He was younger than I expected, thin as a rail but there was an understated confidence about it. Before he even opened his mouth I knew who he was.
Thankfully I recovered from my shock rapidly enough to shock the bastard in turn.
I gave him my widest fake smile and said, "Ah, Lord Petyr Baelish of the Fingers."
Perhaps he flinched was because he was a young man. Or simply because he couldn't fathom my awareness of him. Or perhaps he was playing me before he even said a word.
Either way, he recovered quickly.
Far too quickly.
Fuck these complications, what was I to do with him?
AN: Feedback and commentary is greatly appreciated. Please let a post and let me know what you think!
HanEmpire
Delicious
No, only Varys. Littlefinger just went around causing chaos so that he could misdirect people and gather power.
- Location
- the netherlands
This reminds me of Lord of War.
Keep your friends close but your enemies close and to your front Stabby
- Location
- Some park.
He could always go the roman way and send the guy as far away as possible instead of killing him whilst at the same time making it look like a huge leap in the hierarchy ladder.
''We need a royal representative at the Iron bank. Go!''
Of course this would bring him much closer to possible Targaryan loyalists in Essos but from what I understood Littlefinger always drew his strength from sowing chaos near the centre of power.
''We need a royal representative at the Iron bank. Go!''
Of course this would bring him much closer to possible Targaryan loyalists in Essos but from what I understood Littlefinger always drew his strength from sowing chaos near the centre of power.
Ganurath
Literal Enthusiast
- Location
- A Valid Location
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And plow Cat and/or women he could pretend were Cat.
- Location
- Brazil
How long until Hoster gets his illness? Getting him there was a bad, bad move.
Fluffy
Destroyer of.......most worlds
- Location
- High Earth Orbit
oh. thanks
Guys. Killing him with the gaze of Arryn, Hoster, Lysa and of course the strangely competent Gunther seems.. difficult without pinning it on Hoster...
Which might lead to a fracturing in the main Stab alliance. Stabby is stuck with the bastard for a while .
On another note: no input on the rest of the chapter?
Which might lead to a fracturing in the main Stab alliance. Stabby is stuck with the bastard for a while .
On another note: no input on the rest of the chapter?
HanEmpire
Delicious
Is Janna and the Tyrells salty about Renly's stunt? Or is Stabby just reading into things too much again?
Is the feast the first time Stabby's met Janna after the war's end? I can't imagine he didn't sincerely apologize for the extreme slight on her honour.
Ganurath
Literal Enthusiast
- Location
- A Valid Location
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Littlefinger is someone people love to hate.
That being said, Renly's efforts to keep Stannis from marrying the Tyrell woman was cute in a reckless, shortsighted sort of way. I'll admit I was a bit confused as to what was going on with the bank stocks, though.
consequences
Not A Nice Person At All
- Location
- Jerkville
Ambassador to the Ironborn. When they inevitably kill him, excuse for war. If they unaccountably don't kill him and rebel on their own, execute him for failure and or collaboration with them.
The financial stuff goes over, under, and around my head. Three cheers for Renly's foray into skullduggery and manipulation though.
Littlefinger is a ruthless, cunning, cunt, who will do anything to make money. He be perfect for a banker. Serously use the fuck out of him than kill him if he shows a whiff of disloyalty. Right now he is 16 and has no real prospects, also two for one on pissing off Tully and winning Lysa support.
Renly is learning his actions have consequences and the value of human life. Two things he did not in cannon.
Why are you having a IPO? Serously there is no reason. Also why are you allowing for voting stock to be freely sold in a public auction. Just offer 49 percent of voting stock, keeping the power in Tyrell,lannister, and Baretheon hands. Yes I understand that the king or Jon would want a share of the bank, but why are you even offering that. Do not use western values when dealing with medieval times.
Let's say Jon says loan the crown money or I will seize the bank. Let him and watch the credit freeze destroy the economy. Historically when ruler owns a bank or seizes a bank it has ended bad for them since the bank collapse, because lack of trust in the bank. Rulers typically use the bank thinking free money and no one trusts the bank to stay solvable. The most successful banks have been 3rd party banks that the crown has no power over. Also seizing the bank will piss off 3 of the kingdoms and all the bank employees.
I thought you were going to use the bank for small loans and to fund a trading/exploration company.
Renly is learning his actions have consequences and the value of human life. Two things he did not in cannon.
Why are you having a IPO? Serously there is no reason. Also why are you allowing for voting stock to be freely sold in a public auction. Just offer 49 percent of voting stock, keeping the power in Tyrell,lannister, and Baretheon hands. Yes I understand that the king or Jon would want a share of the bank, but why are you even offering that. Do not use western values when dealing with medieval times.
Let's say Jon says loan the crown money or I will seize the bank. Let him and watch the credit freeze destroy the economy. Historically when ruler owns a bank or seizes a bank it has ended bad for them since the bank collapse, because lack of trust in the bank. Rulers typically use the bank thinking free money and no one trusts the bank to stay solvable. The most successful banks have been 3rd party banks that the crown has no power over. Also seizing the bank will piss off 3 of the kingdoms and all the bank employees.
I thought you were going to use the bank for small loans and to fund a trading/exploration company.
Cosmoline
Sweeping Swarf Silently
Pitting Baelish against Tully seems a solution to two problems. I do want to see something like that develop- they'll be at eachother's throats and what's more is that there's a good chance Petyr might actually respect Stannis if he phrases his arguments right. Whether that's enough to engender loyalty, I don't know, but we've seen how good Stabby is at inculcating his people to follow him.
- Location
- Some park.
''There's a rock blocking the road.''
''Blow it up.''
''But there are buildings around it. Maybe we should try to drag it to out of the way?''
''No, we should walk there, put explosives under it and blow it up!''
''But those buildings are filled with people! Hell, one of those buildings is an orphanage! Surely it would be better if we ju-''
''*Presses detonator*''
That's the way we roll.
I was waiting for Jannas reaction but I guess it would be pretty inappropriate for her to talk about the validity of her alleged kiss with some other man with the current company present. I guess she's quiet because she doesn't want to aggravate Stabby and maybe wants to talk to him privately about it? Which is pretty funny since he knows and is over it and I can see lots of entertainment from watching her try to explain that whilst wondering why Stabby isn't all that bothered.
The economic part sounds very good but then again I don't know much about economics other than one semester at uni, which I spent sleeping trough so I don't know if it makes sense or not. Which makes me feel like a little bad since it you put effort in to it and it might have major consequences in the story but the only thing that I can say about it is 'Durrr what is interest rate and why should I not like it?''
- Location
- Wherever the Beautiful Game takes me
Hurray I need mah fix!Rewrite in progress
Also adding more content.
Curren Status Southern Westeros / Narrow Sea / West Essos
Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
Add in hex tiles, and this would be a fun Civ scenario. ^_^Many thanks to @Tyrialfrost from over at SB
Chapter 2.02
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
The crowd on the sides of the parades were cheering themselves hoarse and I didn't throw them so much as a single coin. Their elation was one of pure relief at the end of the war. They'd scream themselves hoarse for the Targaryens had they won their war.
I found that their screams meant very little me. I had other things on my mind.
"Seven blessings for Prince Stannis!"
I couldn't keep my mind off of the body. The images of scorched remains, the cut up limbs and the vile stench of refuse have yet to release their hold on me. I keep trying to convince myself that it was no worse than everything I'd already been through. That after all the death I'd seen, and more than a few times caused, this shouldn't be bothering me so.
I've only truly known him for a year.
"Praise the Baratheons!"
It wasn't working.
"Prince Stannis!"
Certain realizations have been forced upon me this past week. For one...there is a rather large difference in defending yourself on your walls and going out to actively harm people. I'm not claiming the Siege of Storm's End didn't affect me, but nothing like this. Not even the small raids I dared could have prepared me for this. I had brought a little over six thousand men with me to the battles in the Blackwater and I managed to bring five thousand three hundred back.
Five thousand three hundred out of six thousand.
I lost seven hundred men.
Seven hundred.
Why did Robert put me in charge of this? I already knew the answer before I thought the question. Who else was he supposed to send? And I even knew his answer, if I ever cared to ask it. He'd tell me to stop whining and remember those losses happened by assaulting a well defended position, twice. And an open battle.
"Down with the Dragons!"
And yet I still feel that this should bother me more. It's only made worse by the fact there was this nagging traitorous voice in the back of my mind telling me I knew damn well that the only casualty that mattered to me was Merryn. His suddenly aborted scream was stuck on replay and I couldn't get rid of it. Even attempting to bury it deep fills me with a deep sense of disquiet. Perhaps I deserve this.
Perhaps I owe it to Merryn to suffer it unflinchingly, because the gods know I didn't give it all that much thought while it happened.
I was busy dealing with the people responsible for it.
All the death, all the destruction...the horrors that happened after Dragonstone fell should bother me more. That should be what keeps me up at night and yet I can't find it within me to care. Most of the casualties came from Redwyne and Crownlands troops. My own Stormbringers didn't get through it unscathed either, but even their deaths seem to weigh rather light on my shoulders. As much as I pretended not to play favorites, fastidiously so in fact, I was quietly pleased that a great many of my most competent men survived.
It just that one gurgle. That one gurgle in particular. Its hold on me seems unshakeable.
"Hail the Stags!"
They say you can see the light go out of someones eyes when they die. That you can sense that final moment just before death, when it all becomes so irreversibly real. I wouldn't know.
I was too busy stepping over his quickly cooling...
I snapped out my thoughts when I reached the dais the King stood upon in front of the Red Keep and knelt down in front of him. Whoever was responsible for this spectacle was attentive enough to lay down a carpet for me to kneel on. The privilege of rank at work, I guess, because my men didn't get the same treatment.
Now matter how shiny their dress whites, or impressive their accomplishments. No fucks were given for the shiny medals gleamed that I already had worked up for them. I'd have to fix that at some point. Naval service needs to become a fucking staple in Robert's court. Next on the dais to Robert stood his aging Hand, both flanked by their respective squires, whose gaze seemingly burned a hole in the back of my head. I heard my captains and other officers kneel down behind me just as a hush of quiet falls over the gathered crowd. Despite expecting it, it still baffled me how easily Robert could quiet an entire crowd simply by raising his hands slowly.
With an energetic and booming voice he bellowed out, "Ten days ago, on the blessed day of the Warrior, I sent my brother to deal the final blow to the last remaining Targaryen bastions within our Realm. Driftmark and Dragonstone refused to surrender. Despite my fondest wishes they settled in for one last act of defiance on behalf of their absent masters."
A solitary voice rang over crowd, "Bless the Good King Robert!"
Ever the entertainer my Kingly brother smiled and waved. Short after he continued, "It took three final battles, but our war is over my people! The Dragon's repugnant specter no longer haunts us. Victory is ours! Peace is ours! A new dawn has come upon us, my people! A new dawn!"
The tremendous roar of approval from the crowd rocked me almost with physical force. Their screams came crashing over us and I could tell Robert was cherishing the moment. My overly muscled brother slowly raised a hand and once again the host of onlookers quieted down as if by magic.
"Rise, my noble brother. Rise, and come take your place of price beside me!"
I slowly got to my feet and came to the awkward realization I would have to back around to get to the stairs leading to the platform. Robert smirked wickedly at me as he took note of my annoyance. Great, now he would get to paint himself the benevolent older brother.
Bastard.
He really is quite good at this.
Robert, still smirking while looking as if he was magnanimously honoring me, extended his hand towards me. I gripped him by the wrist and suddenly found myself flying towards the dais. Unsteady I grabbed hold of Robert to keep from falling over. I mightily resisted the urge to grab for my own shoulder.
Motherfucker. That's going to hurt for a while.
Despite the annoyance I kept up a firm plastic smile, put my arm on Robert's far shoulder, and turned to the crowd gathered before the steps of the Red Keep. I cleared my throat and loudly projected, "The Targaryens left Dragonstone many moons ago, but shamefully hid this from their men. I did not fight bloodthirsty monsters. I did not slay scores of vile beasts..."
I, too, know a little bit about theatrics. I stayed quiet long enough to see the host ever so slightly leaning in. And then just that little touch longer, "I fought brave men! Honorable men, who were tragically misguided by their betters! Who were horrifically abused by their lords! Damn the Dragons!"
"Baratheon! Baratheon!"
Robert and I suddenly waved simultaneously at them, and I heard the arrogant bastard lightly chuckle.
When the crowd quieted down I continued with a loud and sombre voice, "I fought brave men who wanted for nothing more than to protect their liege. Please, people of King's Landing, join me in silent prayer for all that fell in this harrowing past year. Pray with me for our lost kin and friends."
Another, this time much shorter pause, and I finished with, "Pray for everyone the Dragons cost us."
My chin slowly hit my chest, my hands interlocked in front of me, and within moments an eerie quiet hung over the city. In distance seagulls could faintly be heard, but almost miraculously all the other sounds of the metropolis seemed to fall away.
After a long few moments I faintly I heard Robert whisper, "Good gods, how long are you going to drag this out?"
Perhaps I'm an asshole, because even with all the terrible things on my mind I couldn't resist. Without moving my lips I replied, "Until I get the feeling in my shoulder back, Robert."
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
Almost before I stepped into my room I was assaulted by a particularly small blur. Renly launched himself at me and I caught the little bugger just in time. Within moments I had my littlest brother crushed against my chest with Renly making a fair attempt at doing the same with my neck.
Renly craned his head back a bit before solemnly saying, "Thank the gods you're back, Stannis."
Oh gods, he was just so earnest when he said that I could swear some unseen assassin had managed to stab me in the chest. I didn't really have an answer for him, so instead I just put my forehead to his and smiled.
"Have you been good, little man?"
That didn't exactly get the lighthearted response I was looking for. Instead Renly paled and suddenly diverted his gaze from me. What could that possibly mean? I walked, with Renly still attached to me, over to my bed and sat down on it.
Renly still hadn't spoken a word and I was getting rather worried.
"Little man?"
The only response I got was the sudden shaking that came over Renly. It didn't take long for me to realize my little brother was sobbing against my chest and mumbling something. I ran my hand through his hair and gently pushed his head back.
"I-I'm s-sorry S-Stannis."
What happened?
All could think of was that little Renly thought he must have disappointed me somehow. Instead of attempting to question him I just quietly pulled out my handkerchief. I cupped his small face with one hand and wiped away his even smaller tears with my other. Afterward I settled in to wait him out, knowing from personal experience that pushing small children just doesn't work.
Impulsively I asked him, "I can't accept your apology if I don't know what it's for, little brother."
Renly quickly glanced up at me, but even quicker cast his gaze down before softly speaking up, "I..." Another long moment of silence passed before Renly breathed in deeply and continued, "I shamed you brother. I...I tried to stop that....that..."
Again he fell silent. He soon rallied though and I swore I could detect a whiff of anger in his tone, "I tried to stop you from..,marrying that Tyrell woman."
Oh...shit.
What could he have possibly done?
I frowned a little and asked him, "How?"
Renly finally looked up at me again before saying, "I lied, Stannis. I lied to the King! To Robert, so he would stop you from marrying the Tyrell!"
Elation that Renly tried, in his own way, to be help me warred within me with the annoyance that was he might be getting in the way of the best chance this Kingdom has of staying in one piece. This marriage was important.
Once again I ran my hand through his hair and gentle nudged him to continue.
"Grandfather was so angry when he found out, Stannis. He wouldn't speak to me for days..."
When he trailed off something in me snapped. How dare that piece of shit toy with Renly? What kind of a person ignores a child! Lord Gunther fucking Estermont. Only worry about what Robert might have done stopped me from running out to give the old bastard a piece of my mind.
"And Robert?"
Renly paled again before replying, "He sent Ser Marius to collect the pension lists from Storm's End." The little bugger gazed down when he continued, "He ordered me write apologies to each of the families that lost someone in our service. He...he said I risked adding more people on the list. I'm sorry, Stannis, I didn't know!"
Well, damn. I have to admit that Robert keeps impressing me. Perhaps I really am rubbing off on him, because I sincerely doubt he gave a shit about all the people dying in the original time line. I mentally put the rather insidious punishment out of my mind and planted a kiss on the little bugger's forehead.
"I see. I'm not exactly pleased with you Renly, but Robert already punished you and I'm unwilling to add to that."
The bright smile that the little blighter flashed me was utterly adorable. I couldn't help but ask though, "So...what did you lie about?"
Renly took a deep breath and replied, "I claimed I saw the Tyrell woman kiss a Reach knight."
Wow.
Wow.
"Sneaky."
Again he diverted his gaze down, "Who did you pin it on?"
Renly looked confused for a moment before replying, "The Green Fossaway."
What. Holy shit, was that just a wild guess? Wasn't Janna to be married to a Fossaway if I hadn't messed things up? How could Renly possibly come up with this?
Desperately trying to keep the shock from my expression I asked him, "Why him?"
The little blighter simply shrugged and said, "He looks at the Tyrell woman the same way Robert looks at Lady Lyanna."
Oh, well then. Faintly chuckling I told Renly, "Perhaps you should stop calling her that, little man."
Renly frowned, but almost immediately responded, "I understand, but I will not call her my sister."
I probably shouldn't have started laughing.
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
I was counting down the minutes until the feast was done. A veritable tidal wave of praise and compliments were thrown my way and I was getting tired of having to field empty smile after empty smile. Renly and little Beric had already been sent to their respective beds, but I would find no such reprieve.
Lady Olenna Tyrell just wouldn't shut up, "I must say, that was a fairly surprising turn of events. Young men generally are loathe to share the glory, so to speak."
What's her point?
She continued, "Why aren't you?"
I just shrugged and replied, "Why wouldn't I? Lord Redwyne discharged his duties superbly."
Lord Gunther Estermont couldn't help himself, "Rewarding excellent service has always been a Baratheon staple, my Lady."
Sensing that this particular subject has come to an end, Olenna simply pivoted.
"Speaking of duties, pray tell Prince Stannis. Who shall take over your duties in the Crownlands?"
Gods be damned.
She's putting me on the spot. I haven't even discussed this with Arryn, or any of the others yet, and now the Queen of Thorns is trying to get me to stake out a position.
"I imagine, my lady, whomever is most suited to the responsibility."
She rolled her eyes. She actually just rolled her eyes and replied, "What an exquisitely empty answer. Shall we try again, my Prince?"
This, Olenna, is why people do not like you. I had to actively resist the urge to simply tell her that. Then again, I felt like that pretty much all the time...at every god damned feast. Now I'd have to admit point blank that I did not know who might replace me.
Or did I?
Instead I flashed a delightfully empty smile at her and responded, "Hmm, I think not, my Lady."
Boom.
Turns out...I'm a prince and I can occasionally afford to do things like that. Even if it almost certainly convinced everyone around the table that I was, in fact, entirely uninformed. The Lady Olenna slowly, ever so slowly, arched a single eyebrow in some misguided attempt to shame me. As if I care about her personal opinion after the week I've had. And now everyone was staring at me.
I found myself not caring all that much. Not tonight.
Thankfully though, Mace picked up the slack and distracted everyone around the table. "I have heard the most queer rumor, Stannis." The Rose of Roses slightly leaned in and continued, "Have you truly lowered the rate of your taxes?"
What?
Oh. Great. I see how they might think that.
I cleared my throat and replied, "I wouldn't precisely call it that, Mace."
Would he leave it at that? I doubted it.
"How else would one describe it, Stannis?"
I forced myself to resist sighing deeply. I felt I couldn't exactly be rude twice in a row. There are still certain limits even I must observe. Mouthing off against my soon to be goodbrother, right after doing the same to my future goodmother, was one of them. And yet, none of that precluded me from slightly messing with him.
I flashed him another one of my empty smiles and said, "From my point of view I have raised taxes, but my subject will indeed be paying less in taxes."
Mace's expression turned ever so vaguely confused, but Lord Tywin was the one to speak up, "That strikes me as a fairly curious statement, Stannis, and begs for an explanation."
Hmm, was Tywin calling me by my first name because Mace was? I filed that observation away for later. My grandfather, Lord Gunther, apparently felt the need second that motion, "I must say, I too am rather curious about this, my boy."
That too I filed away for later. Was he aware how pissed I was at him, currently? And how come he was unaware of this? Or was he just pretending? What a thoroughly vexing man. Yet another empty smile, "I must admit there is little to explain. I have simply done away with the office of tax farmer, at least within my personal lands."
I got the sense that Gunther was desperately trying to keep his eyes unrolled. Tywin however jumped in again, "And by which means do you intend to replace them?"
I resisted the urge to shrug and turned to Tywin. "By men that merely draw a salary, Tywin, backed by a small contingent of my troops. Once my subjects figure out they'll get to pay less, I imagine over time there shall be less need for shows of force."
Lady Olenna just had to make her opinion know. God damned, I was growing so tired of her.
"Would men such as those not be rather inclined to...appropriate funds to their personal benefit?"
This time my smile was decidedly sharper, "All change comes with a slight amount of disruption." Next I shrugged and continued, "Again, after a few thorough examples I imagine such concerns will lessen. Besides, I am quiet well aware of the extent of the wealth of those that work for me. Should any of them suddenly dress remarkable better..."
Now however Gunther seemed pleased. Why? Why was he looking so pleased? Am I missing something? Motherfucker. Was he just happy I'm coming across as some mob boss? Although, I would have to admit being a lord and a mob boss had quite a few similar aspects.
Gunther spoke up, "Do your have any plans to extend your reforms to the rest of our Realm?"
My grin was entirely genuine when I replied, "Not in the slightest, grandfather."
Clever lords would copy me as soon as the results came in. By cutting away tax farmers, and replacing them with my nascent bureaucracy, I eliminated their margin. They might make life easier for lazy nobles, but that shit wasn't going to fly. The convenience of predictable tax returns was, in my mind, not a good enough reason to allow tax farmer to keep what they manage to threaten on top of my taxes.
Why would I let come cunt purchase a license from to farm taxes on my behalf These vicious parasites would squeeze every last fucking coin they could from my people. Coin that could be spent purchasing my shit. Which I could then tax twice or more depending on how many hands it changed.
Again Olenna felt the need to poke, "Which seems fairly surprising, my prince. One might even be forgiven for believing your'better nature' might ache on behalf of the commons across the Realm."
Now I was the one slowly raising an eyebrow, "Ah, I can see why someone might believe that after a superficial consideration."
Her response was prompt, "Oh?"
As was mine, "Yes, I couldn't care in the slightest about your smallfolk." A short heartbeat or three of silence before I smiled wider and contined, "Stipulated on nobody breaking the King's laws, of course."
I wasn't even exaggerating that much. There was, practically speaking, very little I could do to make life considerable better for people outside of my borders. Hell, I didn't even have clear authority to tell my own bannermen how to treat their people.
I could cajole them, bribe them and promise the world to them. If I was desperate, I might even threaten them. I couldn't simply order my Lords to unilaterally do my bidding. Let alone force the hand of lords outside of the Stormlands. Great or small.
Every lord was a miniature king, who only truly obey the big King. Soothing my, of late, much put upon conscience is simply not worth butting heads with most of the Realm. Sensing that this subject too has run its coarse Gunther asked, "On a rather more pressing subject, Stannis. I understand you only returned this morning, but a response must be made for Weeping Town."
A little forceful, but he was right on the money. When the fleets of the Redwyne's, Gulltown Arryn's, even a few converted tradeships from Duskendale, and of course my own Royal Fleet distracted...someone took advantage. That someone being suspiciously cohesively acting pirates.
Pirates of the fucking Step Stones.
Organized pirates of the fucking Step Stones.
I quietly bit out, "I quite agree, grandfather. Orders have already been dispatched and Mistwood men have secured what remains of the town. It will, of course, be rebuilt with funds from Storm's End. And a response...well, that must be discussed with your other grandson."
I didn't think my mood could get worse. Of course, I had to pay for it. I was the one that made that delightfully parochial seaside town a target by constructing the beginnings of another Royal Fleet Base there. These pirates weren't stupid and they could see what was coming.
Why else would a resurgent Westeros and with a freshly minted dynasty create a port there? Which made a...shortsighted sort of sense. Could one expect long term planning from a pirate? Because surely they must know a response is coming. Did they think they could outrun me? And on top of all of that...there was the question of who was truly behind it, because despite how plausible it sounds...I can't help but think either Lys or Tyrosh must have been involved someone. If I could prove it...
Until then though, the best I could do was face their cats-paws and suffer the annoyance of knowing Lys and Tyrosh would come out ahead, regardless. Either I miraculously lose, in which case it's happy days for them. Or I win and incur losses, which is also great for them.
Would they risk attacking me while I'm busy in the Step Stones?
Before we could continue the subject however, one of the servants pressed a note into my hand. Subtly, I unfurled it under the table and tried to mask my incredulity. Lady Lysa Arryn wished to speak with me, at my convenience. What in gods name could she want from me? I've barely spoken a word with her, but any excuse to extract myself from this conversation was welcome.
I slowly made my way across the Great Hall after excusing myself, getting accosted by all and sunder all the way through, until I finally made it through the monstrous gates. Right across from them Lysa was waiting for me.
"My prince, thank you for granting me an audience. I do hope I did not inconvenience you, for I would greatly mislike doing so."
Well, she's laying it on thick, "Not at all, my Lady. Please, what can I do for you?"
Lysa fidgeted around her cloak for a moment before asking, "Perhaps we could take a short walk, my prince?"
Well then...
"Of course, my lady."
I extended my arm, she hooked one of her dainty little hands around it, and walk we did. We did not go very far, but when we reached the outer parts of the Red Keep I was met with a startling sight.
"My prince, I would like to introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine. You..." Lysa looked up at me and continued, "You have a reputation for seeing the best in people, my prince. I would call on your best nature and hope to sway you to hear my friend's plight."
A young man, with intense blue eyes and an easy smile gave me a practiced smile. He was younger than I expected, thin as a rail but there was an understated confidence about it. Before he even opened his mouth I knew who he was. Thankfully I recovered from my shock rapidly enough to shock the bastard in turn.
I gave him my widest fake smile and said, "Ah, Lord Petyr Baelish of the Fingers."
Perhaps he flinched was because he was a young man. Or simply because he couldn't fathom my awareness of him. Or perhaps he was playing me before he even said a word.
Either way, he recovered quickly.
Far too quickly.
Fuck these complications, what was I to do with him?
AN: Feedback and commentary is greatly appreciated. Please let a post and let me know what you think! I extended the first part, as well as changed the subject of the third part.
The crowd on the sides of the parades were cheering themselves hoarse and I didn't throw them so much as a single coin. Their elation was one of pure relief at the end of the war. They'd scream themselves hoarse for the Targaryens had they won their war.
I found that their screams meant very little me. I had other things on my mind.
"Seven blessings for Prince Stannis!"
I couldn't keep my mind off of the body. The images of scorched remains, the cut up limbs and the vile stench of refuse have yet to release their hold on me. I keep trying to convince myself that it was no worse than everything I'd already been through. That after all the death I'd seen, and more than a few times caused, this shouldn't be bothering me so.
I've only truly known him for a year.
"Praise the Baratheons!"
It wasn't working.
"Prince Stannis!"
Certain realizations have been forced upon me this past week. For one...there is a rather large difference in defending yourself on your walls and going out to actively harm people. I'm not claiming the Siege of Storm's End didn't affect me, but nothing like this. Not even the small raids I dared could have prepared me for this. I had brought a little over six thousand men with me to the battles in the Blackwater and I managed to bring five thousand three hundred back.
Five thousand three hundred out of six thousand.
I lost seven hundred men.
Seven hundred.
Why did Robert put me in charge of this? I already knew the answer before I thought the question. Who else was he supposed to send? And I even knew his answer, if I ever cared to ask it. He'd tell me to stop whining and remember those losses happened by assaulting a well defended position, twice. And an open battle.
"Down with the Dragons!"
And yet I still feel that this should bother me more. It's only made worse by the fact there was this nagging traitorous voice in the back of my mind telling me I knew damn well that the only casualty that mattered to me was Merryn. His suddenly aborted scream was stuck on replay and I couldn't get rid of it. Even attempting to bury it deep fills me with a deep sense of disquiet. Perhaps I deserve this.
Perhaps I owe it to Merryn to suffer it unflinchingly, because the gods know I didn't give it all that much thought while it happened.
I was busy dealing with the people responsible for it.
All the death, all the destruction...the horrors that happened after Dragonstone fell should bother me more. That should be what keeps me up at night and yet I can't find it within me to care. Most of the casualties came from Redwyne and Crownlands troops. My own Stormbringers didn't get through it unscathed either, but even their deaths seem to weigh rather light on my shoulders. As much as I pretended not to play favorites, fastidiously so in fact, I was quietly pleased that a great many of my most competent men survived.
It just that one gurgle. That one gurgle in particular. Its hold on me seems unshakeable.
"Hail the Stags!"
They say you can see the light go out of someones eyes when they die. That you can sense that final moment just before death, when it all becomes so irreversibly real. I wouldn't know.
I was too busy stepping over his quickly cooling...
I snapped out my thoughts when I reached the dais the King stood upon in front of the Red Keep and knelt down in front of him. Whoever was responsible for this spectacle was attentive enough to lay down a carpet for me to kneel on. The privilege of rank at work, I guess, because my men didn't get the same treatment.
Now matter how shiny their dress whites, or impressive their accomplishments. No fucks were given for the shiny medals gleamed that I already had worked up for them. I'd have to fix that at some point. Naval service needs to become a fucking staple in Robert's court. Next on the dais to Robert stood his aging Hand, both flanked by their respective squires, whose gaze seemingly burned a hole in the back of my head. I heard my captains and other officers kneel down behind me just as a hush of quiet falls over the gathered crowd. Despite expecting it, it still baffled me how easily Robert could quiet an entire crowd simply by raising his hands slowly.
With an energetic and booming voice he bellowed out, "Ten days ago, on the blessed day of the Warrior, I sent my brother to deal the final blow to the last remaining Targaryen bastions within our Realm. Driftmark and Dragonstone refused to surrender. Despite my fondest wishes they settled in for one last act of defiance on behalf of their absent masters."
A solitary voice rang over crowd, "Bless the Good King Robert!"
Ever the entertainer my Kingly brother smiled and waved. Short after he continued, "It took three final battles, but our war is over my people! The Dragon's repugnant specter no longer haunts us. Victory is ours! Peace is ours! A new dawn has come upon us, my people! A new dawn!"
The tremendous roar of approval from the crowd rocked me almost with physical force. Their screams came crashing over us and I could tell Robert was cherishing the moment. My overly muscled brother slowly raised a hand and once again the host of onlookers quieted down as if by magic.
"Rise, my noble brother. Rise, and come take your place of price beside me!"
I slowly got to my feet and came to the awkward realization I would have to back around to get to the stairs leading to the platform. Robert smirked wickedly at me as he took note of my annoyance. Great, now he would get to paint himself the benevolent older brother.
Bastard.
He really is quite good at this.
Robert, still smirking while looking as if he was magnanimously honoring me, extended his hand towards me. I gripped him by the wrist and suddenly found myself flying towards the dais. Unsteady I grabbed hold of Robert to keep from falling over. I mightily resisted the urge to grab for my own shoulder.
Motherfucker. That's going to hurt for a while.
Despite the annoyance I kept up a firm plastic smile, put my arm on Robert's far shoulder, and turned to the crowd gathered before the steps of the Red Keep. I cleared my throat and loudly projected, "The Targaryens left Dragonstone many moons ago, but shamefully hid this from their men. I did not fight bloodthirsty monsters. I did not slay scores of vile beasts..."
I, too, know a little bit about theatrics. I stayed quiet long enough to see the host ever so slightly leaning in. And then just that little touch longer, "I fought brave men! Honorable men, who were tragically misguided by their betters! Who were horrifically abused by their lords! Damn the Dragons!"
"Baratheon! Baratheon!"
Robert and I suddenly waved simultaneously at them, and I heard the arrogant bastard lightly chuckle.
When the crowd quieted down I continued with a loud and sombre voice, "I fought brave men who wanted for nothing more than to protect their liege. Please, people of King's Landing, join me in silent prayer for all that fell in this harrowing past year. Pray with me for our lost kin and friends."
Another, this time much shorter pause, and I finished with, "Pray for everyone the Dragons cost us."
My chin slowly hit my chest, my hands interlocked in front of me, and within moments an eerie quiet hung over the city. In distance seagulls could faintly be heard, but almost miraculously all the other sounds of the metropolis seemed to fall away.
After a long few moments I faintly I heard Robert whisper, "Good gods, how long are you going to drag this out?"
Perhaps I'm an asshole, because even with all the terrible things on my mind I couldn't resist. Without moving my lips I replied, "Until I get the feeling in my shoulder back, Robert."
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
Almost before I stepped into my room I was assaulted by a particularly small blur. Renly launched himself at me and I caught the little bugger just in time. Within moments I had my littlest brother crushed against my chest with Renly making a fair attempt at doing the same with my neck.
Renly craned his head back a bit before solemnly saying, "Thank the gods you're back, Stannis."
Oh gods, he was just so earnest when he said that I could swear some unseen assassin had managed to stab me in the chest. I didn't really have an answer for him, so instead I just put my forehead to his and smiled.
"Have you been good, little man?"
That didn't exactly get the lighthearted response I was looking for. Instead Renly paled and suddenly diverted his gaze from me. What could that possibly mean? I walked, with Renly still attached to me, over to my bed and sat down on it.
Renly still hadn't spoken a word and I was getting rather worried.
"Little man?"
The only response I got was the sudden shaking that came over Renly. It didn't take long for me to realize my little brother was sobbing against my chest and mumbling something. I ran my hand through his hair and gently pushed his head back.
"I-I'm s-sorry S-Stannis."
What happened?
All could think of was that little Renly thought he must have disappointed me somehow. Instead of attempting to question him I just quietly pulled out my handkerchief. I cupped his small face with one hand and wiped away his even smaller tears with my other. Afterward I settled in to wait him out, knowing from personal experience that pushing small children just doesn't work.
Impulsively I asked him, "I can't accept your apology if I don't know what it's for, little brother."
Renly quickly glanced up at me, but even quicker cast his gaze down before softly speaking up, "I..." Another long moment of silence passed before Renly breathed in deeply and continued, "I shamed you brother. I...I tried to stop that....that..."
Again he fell silent. He soon rallied though and I swore I could detect a whiff of anger in his tone, "I tried to stop you from..,marrying that Tyrell woman."
Oh...shit.
What could he have possibly done?
I frowned a little and asked him, "How?"
Renly finally looked up at me again before saying, "I lied, Stannis. I lied to the King! To Robert, so he would stop you from marrying the Tyrell!"
Elation that Renly tried, in his own way, to be help me warred within me with the annoyance that was he might be getting in the way of the best chance this Kingdom has of staying in one piece. This marriage was important.
Once again I ran my hand through his hair and gentle nudged him to continue.
"Grandfather was so angry when he found out, Stannis. He wouldn't speak to me for days..."
When he trailed off something in me snapped. How dare that piece of shit toy with Renly? What kind of a person ignores a child! Lord Gunther fucking Estermont. Only worry about what Robert might have done stopped me from running out to give the old bastard a piece of my mind.
"And Robert?"
Renly paled again before replying, "He sent Ser Marius to collect the pension lists from Storm's End." The little bugger gazed down when he continued, "He ordered me write apologies to each of the families that lost someone in our service. He...he said I risked adding more people on the list. I'm sorry, Stannis, I didn't know!"
Well, damn. I have to admit that Robert keeps impressing me. Perhaps I really am rubbing off on him, because I sincerely doubt he gave a shit about all the people dying in the original time line. I mentally put the rather insidious punishment out of my mind and planted a kiss on the little bugger's forehead.
"I see. I'm not exactly pleased with you Renly, but Robert already punished you and I'm unwilling to add to that."
The bright smile that the little blighter flashed me was utterly adorable. I couldn't help but ask though, "So...what did you lie about?"
Renly took a deep breath and replied, "I claimed I saw the Tyrell woman kiss a Reach knight."
Wow.
Wow.
"Sneaky."
Again he diverted his gaze down, "Who did you pin it on?"
Renly looked confused for a moment before replying, "The Green Fossaway."
What. Holy shit, was that just a wild guess? Wasn't Janna to be married to a Fossaway if I hadn't messed things up? How could Renly possibly come up with this?
Desperately trying to keep the shock from my expression I asked him, "Why him?"
The little blighter simply shrugged and said, "He looks at the Tyrell woman the same way Robert looks at Lady Lyanna."
Oh, well then. Faintly chuckling I told Renly, "Perhaps you should stop calling her that, little man."
Renly frowned, but almost immediately responded, "I understand, but I will not call her my sister."
I probably shouldn't have started laughing.
283 AC – King's Landing – Nation Building and Errors of Judgment
I was counting down the minutes until the feast was done. A veritable tidal wave of praise and compliments were thrown my way and I was getting tired of having to field empty smile after empty smile. Renly and little Beric had already been sent to their respective beds, but I would find no such reprieve.
Lady Olenna Tyrell just wouldn't shut up, "I must say, that was a fairly surprising turn of events. Young men generally are loathe to share the glory, so to speak."
What's her point?
She continued, "Why aren't you?"
I just shrugged and replied, "Why wouldn't I? Lord Redwyne discharged his duties superbly."
Lord Gunther Estermont couldn't help himself, "Rewarding excellent service has always been a Baratheon staple, my Lady."
Sensing that this particular subject has come to an end, Olenna simply pivoted.
"Speaking of duties, pray tell Prince Stannis. Who shall take over your duties in the Crownlands?"
Gods be damned.
She's putting me on the spot. I haven't even discussed this with Arryn, or any of the others yet, and now the Queen of Thorns is trying to get me to stake out a position.
"I imagine, my lady, whomever is most suited to the responsibility."
She rolled her eyes. She actually just rolled her eyes and replied, "What an exquisitely empty answer. Shall we try again, my Prince?"
This, Olenna, is why people do not like you. I had to actively resist the urge to simply tell her that. Then again, I felt like that pretty much all the time...at every god damned feast. Now I'd have to admit point blank that I did not know who might replace me.
Or did I?
Instead I flashed a delightfully empty smile at her and responded, "Hmm, I think not, my Lady."
Boom.
Turns out...I'm a prince and I can occasionally afford to do things like that. Even if it almost certainly convinced everyone around the table that I was, in fact, entirely uninformed. The Lady Olenna slowly, ever so slowly, arched a single eyebrow in some misguided attempt to shame me. As if I care about her personal opinion after the week I've had. And now everyone was staring at me.
I found myself not caring all that much. Not tonight.
Thankfully though, Mace picked up the slack and distracted everyone around the table. "I have heard the most queer rumor, Stannis." The Rose of Roses slightly leaned in and continued, "Have you truly lowered the rate of your taxes?"
What?
Oh. Great. I see how they might think that.
I cleared my throat and replied, "I wouldn't precisely call it that, Mace."
Would he leave it at that? I doubted it.
"How else would one describe it, Stannis?"
I forced myself to resist sighing deeply. I felt I couldn't exactly be rude twice in a row. There are still certain limits even I must observe. Mouthing off against my soon to be goodbrother, right after doing the same to my future goodmother, was one of them. And yet, none of that precluded me from slightly messing with him.
I flashed him another one of my empty smiles and said, "From my point of view I have raised taxes, but my subject will indeed be paying less in taxes."
Mace's expression turned ever so vaguely confused, but Lord Tywin was the one to speak up, "That strikes me as a fairly curious statement, Stannis, and begs for an explanation."
Hmm, was Tywin calling me by my first name because Mace was? I filed that observation away for later. My grandfather, Lord Gunther, apparently felt the need second that motion, "I must say, I too am rather curious about this, my boy."
That too I filed away for later. Was he aware how pissed I was at him, currently? And how come he was unaware of this? Or was he just pretending? What a thoroughly vexing man. Yet another empty smile, "I must admit there is little to explain. I have simply done away with the office of tax farmer, at least within my personal lands."
I got the sense that Gunther was desperately trying to keep his eyes unrolled. Tywin however jumped in again, "And by which means do you intend to replace them?"
I resisted the urge to shrug and turned to Tywin. "By men that merely draw a salary, Tywin, backed by a small contingent of my troops. Once my subjects figure out they'll get to pay less, I imagine over time there shall be less need for shows of force."
Lady Olenna just had to make her opinion know. God damned, I was growing so tired of her.
"Would men such as those not be rather inclined to...appropriate funds to their personal benefit?"
This time my smile was decidedly sharper, "All change comes with a slight amount of disruption." Next I shrugged and continued, "Again, after a few thorough examples I imagine such concerns will lessen. Besides, I am quiet well aware of the extent of the wealth of those that work for me. Should any of them suddenly dress remarkable better..."
Now however Gunther seemed pleased. Why? Why was he looking so pleased? Am I missing something? Motherfucker. Was he just happy I'm coming across as some mob boss? Although, I would have to admit being a lord and a mob boss had quite a few similar aspects.
Gunther spoke up, "Do your have any plans to extend your reforms to the rest of our Realm?"
My grin was entirely genuine when I replied, "Not in the slightest, grandfather."
Clever lords would copy me as soon as the results came in. By cutting away tax farmers, and replacing them with my nascent bureaucracy, I eliminated their margin. They might make life easier for lazy nobles, but that shit wasn't going to fly. The convenience of predictable tax returns was, in my mind, not a good enough reason to allow tax farmer to keep what they manage to threaten on top of my taxes.
Why would I let come cunt purchase a license from to farm taxes on my behalf These vicious parasites would squeeze every last fucking coin they could from my people. Coin that could be spent purchasing my shit. Which I could then tax twice or more depending on how many hands it changed.
Again Olenna felt the need to poke, "Which seems fairly surprising, my prince. One might even be forgiven for believing your'better nature' might ache on behalf of the commons across the Realm."
Now I was the one slowly raising an eyebrow, "Ah, I can see why someone might believe that after a superficial consideration."
Her response was prompt, "Oh?"
As was mine, "Yes, I couldn't care in the slightest about your smallfolk." A short heartbeat or three of silence before I smiled wider and contined, "Stipulated on nobody breaking the King's laws, of course."
I wasn't even exaggerating that much. There was, practically speaking, very little I could do to make life considerable better for people outside of my borders. Hell, I didn't even have clear authority to tell my own bannermen how to treat their people.
I could cajole them, bribe them and promise the world to them. If I was desperate, I might even threaten them. I couldn't simply order my Lords to unilaterally do my bidding. Let alone force the hand of lords outside of the Stormlands. Great or small.
Every lord was a miniature king, who only truly obey the big King. Soothing my, of late, much put upon conscience is simply not worth butting heads with most of the Realm. Sensing that this subject too has run its coarse Gunther asked, "On a rather more pressing subject, Stannis. I understand you only returned this morning, but a response must be made for Weeping Town."
A little forceful, but he was right on the money. When the fleets of the Redwyne's, Gulltown Arryn's, even a few converted tradeships from Duskendale, and of course my own Royal Fleet distracted...someone took advantage. That someone being suspiciously cohesively acting pirates.
Pirates of the fucking Step Stones.
Organized pirates of the fucking Step Stones.
I quietly bit out, "I quite agree, grandfather. Orders have already been dispatched and Mistwood men have secured what remains of the town. It will, of course, be rebuilt with funds from Storm's End. And a response...well, that must be discussed with your other grandson."
I didn't think my mood could get worse. Of course, I had to pay for it. I was the one that made that delightfully parochial seaside town a target by constructing the beginnings of another Royal Fleet Base there. These pirates weren't stupid and they could see what was coming.
Why else would a resurgent Westeros and with a freshly minted dynasty create a port there? Which made a...shortsighted sort of sense. Could one expect long term planning from a pirate? Because surely they must know a response is coming. Did they think they could outrun me? And on top of all of that...there was the question of who was truly behind it, because despite how plausible it sounds...I can't help but think either Lys or Tyrosh must have been involved someone. If I could prove it...
Until then though, the best I could do was face their cats-paws and suffer the annoyance of knowing Lys and Tyrosh would come out ahead, regardless. Either I miraculously lose, in which case it's happy days for them. Or I win and incur losses, which is also great for them.
Would they risk attacking me while I'm busy in the Step Stones?
Before we could continue the subject however, one of the servants pressed a note into my hand. Subtly, I unfurled it under the table and tried to mask my incredulity. Lady Lysa Arryn wished to speak with me, at my convenience. What in gods name could she want from me? I've barely spoken a word with her, but any excuse to extract myself from this conversation was welcome.
I slowly made my way across the Great Hall after excusing myself, getting accosted by all and sunder all the way through, until I finally made it through the monstrous gates. Right across from them Lysa was waiting for me.
"My prince, thank you for granting me an audience. I do hope I did not inconvenience you, for I would greatly mislike doing so."
Well, she's laying it on thick, "Not at all, my Lady. Please, what can I do for you?"
Lysa fidgeted around her cloak for a moment before asking, "Perhaps we could take a short walk, my prince?"
Well then...
"Of course, my lady."
I extended my arm, she hooked one of her dainty little hands around it, and walk we did. We did not go very far, but when we reached the outer parts of the Red Keep I was met with a startling sight.
"My prince, I would like to introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine. You..." Lysa looked up at me and continued, "You have a reputation for seeing the best in people, my prince. I would call on your best nature and hope to sway you to hear my friend's plight."
A young man, with intense blue eyes and an easy smile gave me a practiced smile. He was younger than I expected, thin as a rail but there was an understated confidence about it. Before he even opened his mouth I knew who he was. Thankfully I recovered from my shock rapidly enough to shock the bastard in turn.
I gave him my widest fake smile and said, "Ah, Lord Petyr Baelish of the Fingers."
Perhaps he flinched was because he was a young man. Or simply because he couldn't fathom my awareness of him. Or perhaps he was playing me before he even said a word.
Either way, he recovered quickly.
Far too quickly.
Fuck these complications, what was I to do with him?
AN: Feedback and commentary is greatly appreciated. Please let a post and let me know what you think!
I extended the first part, as well as changed the subject of the third part.
PKRudeboy
Gentleman Snarker
The only real difference is state sanction. Organized crime is basically feudalism's last holdout.