Written by the hand of Aegon III Targaryen To Ser Tyland Lannister @Wade Garrett
Ser Tyland,
I am writing this from my place at Lord Tully's side as we make for King's Landing. With him goes many of the Riverlords, loyal men who fought for my mother and stayed firm by her side even after her death. I have written to Lord Stark also, whose loyalty I know will never falter, and to Lord Greyjoy, who has promised his support to me.
Though I am only a boy of ten years, I know that between Tully, Stark, and Greyjoy, I command most of the strength left to the Seven Kingdoms.
I know also that you have Lady Jeyne imprisoned and that the Vale therefore will do naught to support you. I need only tell my Hand that she is to be pardoned and I will have the full support of the Valelords.
I also know that no help is coming to you from the Westerlands. I need only let his leash slip and your brother's widow will call back her forces to deal with the Ironborn for they will go with the barest justifications.
I am also quite certain that the Baratheons are in no position to help, for Lord Tully crushed their host not too long ago and their Lord is but a newborn babe.
I can also say that Lord Tyrell, being young as well, will not lift a finger to aid you.
Nor will the Hightowers come to help you for in doing so they place their last chance at fulfilling those ambitions that tore the Realm apart once and see my wife, Jaehaera, who is in my company as Queen.
The Crownlords are spent, the Narrow Sea Lords are divided and busy deciding what shall be done now that Corlys has been murdered, they will not come for with more than whispered words and empty promises.
Peake has men but Peake does not have enough to hold back the tide. He can buy you time but it would come at the cost of his House and in the end, he would gain nothing for it.
I am only a boy of ten years but I know that to stay this course is death and I am tired of death. I watched my father, my mother, and all four of my brothers die; I saw Jacaerys plunge beneath the waves; I saw the terror in Viserys' eyes as I had to leave him to the Lyseni; I heard the sound of my mother being torn apart by Sunfyre; and in my dreams, I witness the deaths of all the others I have lost.
I don't want more death, I want this to end. It took no more than three months for the Regents to bicker, feud, and stab at each other. It took no more than three months for them to turn grudges into ambitions and ambitions into reckless powerplays. Even if it means spilling every last drop of my blood; even if it means riding to Red Lake and taming Silverwing; even if it means bringing Fire and Blood to those who would stop me; I will end all this stupidity by whatever means available to me. I will end it, I will protect those I care for, and I will ensure none of this ever happens again.
I am only a boy of ten years but I have power, Ser Tyland, and I know that I can use it now. Whoever I stand by now can command the Realm; whatever I say must be treated with the utmost seriousness no matter how inane; whatever I demand must be entertained for fear of what the future brings.
Stand down. I will not do to you what my mother did, you have suffered enough and I know you are not as base as your appearance might suggest. I think you are a good man who gives honest counsel to whomever he serves, no matter who they might be. I also think you are doing what is right by me even if I disagree with it for you cannot help your loyalty. So stand down, go home and help your nephew grow into a good man. Stand down and leave the Realm to those with skin left to scar and tears left to shed.
Stand down, Ser Tyland, and live.
Aegon III Targaryen
King
P.S. Mushroom has been sending missives claiming to be Lord Peake. Please tell him to stop.
Sent to Lord Kermit Tully @Mortis NuntiusTo Be Shared With His Young Ward @SidheachOr Not, According To His Judgement
I thank you for the compliments you have paid me, but I decline.
I decline to bend the knee to the very first Lord who raises an army and seeks to make the Iron Throne his personal plaything. The shade of King Viserys would not thank me for that, nor would the specters of his son or daughter. Nor am I moved by the threat of the Red Kraken, not while sons and daughters of the Westerlands yet endure slavery and worse than slavery at his hands.
No, Lord Tully. Words are, as the Maesters say, wind. Now is the time for deeds.
Ser Tyland Lannister, Hand of the King, for Aegon of House Targaryen, Third Of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men
For the realm it was a time of deeds, not words, yet Rhae had found herself doing a lot of writing recently.
It felt wrong.
What she felt was so wrong.
She had followed with uncle Balon to the Sept of Unification a lot recently. The master craftsmen were working diligently there, discussing with the septons how the septs' once-majestic windows were to be repaired. With the way the realm was heading the septon had even asked Grandmaster Lucifer to prepare plans for the repair of the currently undamaged windows too.
But that wasn't what was important, no, all that mattered to her was that praying at the Sept allowed her some breathing room. The Red Keep was a place of politics and intrigue, the place from where she could see how the realm was inching closer to war with each passing day. It was a place where she was forced to consider the evils of man in every action she took as Lady Sunglass.
It wasn't all bad, but even the keep's most wonderful things were clad in a mantel of fear, shame or some other dreadful thing.
What was important was that the Sept wasn't that, it was a place of quiet contemplation, a place for prayer and guidance.
The stillness had been good, no matter how much she prayed, both in the Sept or in her own chambers she found no guidance or help with the great weight bearing down on her.
She had asked her mother aunt Jocelyn. She hadn't said anything, just hinted at what she was dealing with and asked for some general advice. It hadn't been much, but aunt Jocelyn had told her to write down her thoughts, that it would help straighten her thoughts.
That's how it began. At first she just wrote her thoughts, but soon enough she began trying to work her thoughts into something more productive. She had never been too interested in poetry, but this had now changed. Her first works were terrible, now that she looked back at them with (hopefully) more skilled eyes. Another piece, then another and yet another, all stored in a small private box only she had the key to. It felt great, like she was doing something good, something that properly honoured the one that so occupied her mind.
It was a time of deeds, yes, but that didn't mean words had completely lost their value.
Though even Rhae felt that words were not enough, not anymore.
She felt like she was burning up on the inside, like any day now the feelings would explode out of her and she would be consumed like tinder in a mighty bonfire.
"Ñuha riña, aōha dubys iksis arlī" She had gotten too caught up in her writing, not having noticed Mezzara's presence until the servant spoke.
In her defence her latest poem had turned out very well.
"Sȳz, jikagon zirȳla naejot nyke" She told Mezzara curtly and soon enough her cousin was escorted into her room.
"Well, when you tell me to break into a princess' chambers that's the reaction you will get I'm sorry to say" He had never been good with languages and while both Mezzara and Narha were doing their best, he still wasn't good enough to dare try and speak High Valyrian in front of his cousin. At least he understood her good enough now, the first weeks had been hard in that regard.
"Kessa gaomā ziry iā daor?"
"Why can't you just give her the letter yourself, or maybe just say it to her, you're her lady-in-waiting after all"
"Se dōrossa rȳbagon. Issa sȳrje lo hae dorolvie gīmigon skoros vestras hae kostos"
"Does this have to do with the Tully sit-"
"Kessa" Rhae interrupted, a steely look in her eyes.
It was at that moment Rennifer noticed how ragged his cousin looked. When he saw her in the mornings she looked perfect, very much like the princess she served, but now, with the sun beginning to set she looked exhausted. He was both impressed and felt bad for his cousin, the duties of even a Lady still in regency was taxing on her, but she could still muster that steely look and hard speech that reminded him of grandfather.
He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.
"Well then, if my Lady asks it of me, who am I to refuse"
- - -
Right now Rennifer was very happy he wasn't tall like uncle Balon or had long hair like uncle Balon either, now that he thought about it. It would probably be filled with dust by now.
The Red Keep was wholly unlike any other keep he had ever been in. It was full of secret passages and hidden rooms, one of them being the one he was currently walking through, hunched over to not hit his head on the low ceiling. It was said no one had known all the Red Keeps secret paths since Maegor the Cruel, but almost everyone knew at least a few, so when he first came to King's Landing he had paid one of the servant boys a gold Dragon to show him every such passage the boy knew about.
While it had taken a bit to figure out exactly which passage he needed to go down, the system of tunnels certainly made this little mission easier.
"Oh, Seven damn it" Rennifer cursed when he saw the way forward blocked by a wall of stone. Someone had apparently thought about blocking up the way leading directly to the Princesses chamber. A good decision, but one inconvenient right now.
He doubled back a little bit until he reached the opening into the chamber neighbouring the Princesses and lifted the hatch. It was heavy, both the hatch and the layer of stone hiding it in the floor, but soon enough he was in.
When he scouted out the earlier, trying to figure out which tunnel he would need to take, he had noted that the chamber directly neighbouring the Princess had been empty, which was very lucky.
The next step was obvious, but still he hesitated. He went out to the balcony. Looking around he didn't see anyone that could easily spot him and to his left was his goal, the balcony leading into the Princesses room.
"This better be a very important letter Rhae" he said to himself, before rushing towards the railing, jumping up on it at full speed and launching himself across the gap he had very purposefully not looked down into before jumping.
He landed. He landed quite safely on the other balcony.
Still, he took a moment to just breathe before he pulled out the envelope. He was wearing his training leathers, not wishing to dust down his good clothes, but the letter was thankfully unharmed and in a presentable state.
If it was damaged Rhae had ordered him to go back to their chambers and have it replaced. Apparently it was very important it looked good.
Luckily he wouldn't have to return to the Princesses sleeping chamber again, he thought, as he gently placed the nicely folded envelope on the Princesses nightstand.
"Well, better not stay longer than needed... Seven damn it, I'm going to have to jump again"
@Foadar When the Lady Rhaena withdraws for the evening, she find a letter left for her on her nighstand.
Again I feel that aching, yearning love Thirsting, abhorrent, burning, disdainful
Yet sweet like honey; a gift from above
A love so boundless yet so shameful
Softly anointed in royal perfume
With lavender eyes like meadows in spring
A peerless allure that none could displume
To be thee close makes my aching heart sing
Refined, enchanting, exquisite, divine
My desire, my love, I cannot confine
I write to you as Lord Protector, charged with ensuring the safety of King's Landing and upholding the King's Peace in these troubled times. In light of recent tensions, I am calling upon our banners to provide a sufficient force to garrison and defend the city from any who might march upon it, should their intent be hostile. This is not a call to full war; I require only enough men to secure our capital and preserve the peace. This service will be brief, likely three to six months, but absolutely no more than nine months at the worst, to ensure stability while these disputes are resolved.
The aim is simple: to prevent bloodshed and protect our lands from the ravages of another conflict. As you know, our resources, whether in provisions, coin, or manpower, are already stretched thin after the turmoil of the Dance. War would bleed us dry, risking our fields, our homes, and the prosperity we have barely begun to rebuild. By supporting this cause now, we may avoid far greater losses.
I trust in your loyalty and readiness to serve in the interests of the realm. By standing together to protect King's Landing, we guard the peace that sustains our lands and honor our duty to the Crown.
In service,
Unwin Peake, Lord Protector of the Realm
To Riverlander commoners down in their luck, hedge knights in need of money, and perhaps Northerners in Riverlands interested in the opportunity @Madam Carstein
My name is Ser Lucas Lothston, also known as the Dark Knight, once a household knight to House Strong of Harrenhal though they are now no more. The war of yesteryear left Riverlands in ruin from Aemond's crimes, and while we must rebuild, I know that many of you are currently struggling with your livelihood, and thus I wish to offer you all an opportunity.
Lord Morgan Wylde, the new Master of Laws, as well as his brother Ser Gawen Wylde, the new Lord Commander of the City Watch, have appointed me to become the new Captain of the Mud Gate, to oversee the wharfs and the ships coming and going from there. Just like Riverlands, the capital of King's Landing didn't escape the brunt of the war, and thus the City Watch is in dire need of manpower, and both the Master of Laws and the Lord Commander gave me the command to recruit people willing to bolster the Goldcloaks and enforce order and justice in the capital.
Now let it be known that while the job comes with payment and lodging, it is expected that you will actually do your job properly, as such, I will also preface this offer with the statement that I will not tolerate breach of discipline and indolence. That for the commoners who wish to join me and have no previous martial training, know that I will drill you harshly. The City Watch is meant to be protector of justice and enforcer of order, and that means fulfilling a certain minimum standard. And surely becoming part of the City Watch is more honorable and prestigious than resorting to banditry?
If any of you are interested in my offer, I am currently staying at Riverrun for Lord Tully's assembly, but let it be known that I shall depart to King's Landing once this assembly is finished.
Ser Lucas Lothston, the Dark Knight, Captain of the Mud Gate
*The recruits Ser Lucas receives are overwhelmingly commoners, though rumours of recruitment soon prompts a number of hedge knights to express interest as well. The numbers of initial recruits seem to number some four-and-forty in total.*
It is clear that everyone present seeks to be informed as to the specifics of their recruitment. How long will they be expected to serve in the Goldcloaks? Will they receive pensions to support families or next of kin? Those who come from more impoverished backgrounds ask if they will be responsible for buying and maintaining their own arms and armour. Some of the hedge knights in particular ask if they will be given lands to settle once their term of service has concluded, as there is a rumour that men of the Goldcloaks are given farms to retire to the country after a certain period of years.
In other words, there is interest but those involved want to know what they are expected to do and for how long.
I write this letter with regret and sorrow. When I was first offered this post, I must confess with some shock, I accepted this position filled with hope and determination. I was no captain of the sea, and though I have learned some things in this position I wouldn't call myself such, still. And yet, there was much to be done, as the royal fleet and the succession of Drfitmark, which naturally concerned it, were in disarray. More than that, however, there were greater concerns, pertaining to the whole realm, that I had hoped the position of Master of Ships would allow me to intervene in.
There was the matter of Lady Jeyne Arryn, and her arrest. With the Regency Council effectively dissolved, as Lord Westerling was unable to perform his duties, there was, and I remain stalwart in this, no authority competent enough to trial her, not to mention the delicate situation in regards to the Vale of Arryn's own interests. And then, there was the matter of Lord Tully, who claimed to be Hand of the King instead, as His Grace had named him such, who marches on this city. I hoped that the matter could be resolved peacefully, while this Small Council temporarily administered the affairs of the realm that couldn't wait until a new regencial government was established by the peers and dignitaries of the realm.
The only success, although my part in it was meager, was the resolution of the matter of Driftmark, as now Ser Daemion Velaryon can claim by rights to be Lord of the Tides. On all other accounts, I have failed, and my objectives seem to me impossible to accomplish. Jeyne Arryn has been, unfairly, as far as I am concerned, sentenced to a live of contemplating the Seven, forbid from her lands and titles. Lord Tully will march upon this city, and blood will be shed.
Thusly, I hereby resign my post as Master of Ships, and hope that your lordship might find a more suitable man for it. There are many more deserving - Ser Rickard Redwyne and Lord Daemion Velaryon, to name some - and I hope they might serve the realm ably.
Lord Marq Merryweather of Longtable.
The same day as this letter is delivered, Lord Marq's belongings are gathered, and he departs the city with his retinue of Merryweather men-at-arms. Lady Rhaena Targaryen (@Foadar) and her companions, his daughter Jeyne and Lady Rhae Sunglass (@Royalist) among them, follow.
*The recruits Ser Lucas receives are overwhelmingly commoners, though rumours of recruitment soon prompts a number of hedge knights to express interest as well. The numbers of initial recruits seem to number some four-and-forty in total.*
It is clear that everyone present seeks to be informed as to the specifics of their recruitment. How long will they be expected to serve in the Goldcloaks? Will they receive pensions to support families or next of kin? Those who come from more impoverished backgrounds ask if they will be responsible for buying and maintaining their own arms and armour. Some of the hedge knights in particular ask if they will be given lands to settle once their term of service has concluded, as there is a rumour that men of the Goldcloaks are given farms to retire to the country after a certain period of years.
In other words, there is interest but those involved want to know what they are expected to do and for how long.
I have forwarded your concerns to the Hand of the King, Lord Kermit Tully, handpicked personally by His Grace, King Aegon III himself, and received his answers.
Due to the capital currently being held by a force the King has accused of being traitorous in nature, all of you will be relied even more to bring stability and order to King's Landing. This is both a great responsibility and great privilege, as the royal family itself will rely on all of you to ensure stability of the capital. Unfortunately, this will also mean that until such stability can be ensured to persist in the capital, you will be expected to serve in the Goldcloaks for a prolonged time.
As for the latter of your concerns, the Lord Hand has given his words that those who fulfilled their duty loyally will be rewarded with a strip of land upon retirement. As for those who are unable to purchase equipment for themselves, you will be issued your own equipment whose cost will be cut from your initial wages, but know that so long you maintain the equipment well and return them in good order upon your end of service time, the cost will be returned to you as part of your pension. And yes, with that already being said, all of you will receive pension.
The King and the Lord Hand have entrusted me the duty of being your Captain for the foreseeable future, especially in the light of what is happening in King's Landing, and I am the type of person who believes that communication is important to ensure good performance and service to the royal family, so do feel free to tell me if you have any further concerns.
Moving what remained of the royal household was not an easy or quick thing to do, but Rhaena and her handmaidens made it work. What could be prepared ahead of time had been, so they were comfortably on schedule at least. Still, the period since the coup and the king's departure had been taxing and it had left her very tired.
She didn't sleep too well nowadays.
Hopefully Rhaena hadn't noticed; it would be very embarrassing if she had let her work as handmaiden slip.
Rhae wasn't only responsible for helping to prepare her Lady, but also her own household. There had been some disagreement about who should go where. Aunt Jocelyn would stay with Rhae, but it was less clear about uncle Balon and Rennifer. If the realm was truly heading to war again then Sweetport Sound would need all the able knights it could get and when it came to Rennifer she just didn't want her cousin in harm's way.
But uncle Balon had simply stated it was unbecoming of a knight to leave his liege lady's side while the realm was still crawling with bandits and broken men. She couldn't deny that his argument rang true and while he wasn't the same knight that had fought with the Rogue Prince in the Stepstones all those years ago, he was still an able knight she would want by her side, and even more important at the side of Lady Rhaena.
Rennifer had used about the same argument, though instead pointing out how it was unbecoming of a member of House Sunglass to leave the side of both liege and princess. Rhae had acquiesced and after her uncle Balon too. Their house's words were very clear and on a separate note, Rhae would be sad to part with her energetic cousin.
She realised she had let herself be lost in thought, so hurried to complete her task.
She felt a bit scared.
Last time had been easier, but that was because she had just sent Rennifer to do it. Now it was her doing it herself. If she was caught she'd just say she'd seen the letter on the nightstand and went to pick it up, but even with an excuse prepared she could feel her cheeks getting warm.
Entering Lady Rhaena's sleeping chamber she took out the letter she had hidden in the bust of her dress, leaving it gently on the nightstand.
She breathed a sigh of relief at the task being done, before hurrying out again.
@Foadar Before she departs King's Landing, Lady Rhaena will find a new letter at her nighstand.
Maiden above how did I come to earn Closeness to one of such heavenly allure
From her I shall not part, neither fires burn
nor bitter steel shall shake my love so pure
For her would walk through the lands of the doom
Or strike down any who stand in her way
For love is strength and my love is abloom
And all I seek is to by her side stay
In her name I would perform any deed
Her joy and her love are my only need
Yours ever loyal,
Firewyrm
PS. Soon we shall depart this city, but I will remain by your side, I swear it
To Lord Daemion Velaryon @Madam Carstein
Hail, Lord of the Tides and Master of the Driftmark!
I offer the congratulations of the Iron Throne on your ascension to your proper seat, and it's well wishes on your reign, the Seven grant that all the missteps of your predecessor find the same outcome.
And it is of missteps that I wish to speak to you. I will not deny that I have erred, my Lord. In appointing the late Lord Corlys and then his handpicked successor as Master of Ships, I strayed far into error, and both your House and the Realm have suffered for it.
What has been done cannot be undone, I can no more call back those choices that you may call back all the years the rightful heirs to Driftmark were passed over. But if I have erred, if I have brought a serpent into the Crown's bossom, then the Seven have at least granted me the opportunity to correct it.
As I removed a turncloak Velaryon, I would set a leal Velaryon in their place. By my authority as Hand of the King, I wish to offer you the position of Master of Ships and Lord Admiral of the Royal Navy, and to begin setting right the wrongs done to House Velaryon.
My next words I write to you not as Hand of the King, but as a Lannister of Casterly Rock, given leave to broach this matter by the Lady Johanna. A Lord new come to a worthy seat will soon require both a worthy wife and an heir of his own blood to succeed him.
And so the Lady of the Rock offers the Lady Cerelle Lannister, eldest of her six children, as a match for the Lord of the Tides. My Lord...you and I have both seen much of the world, I believe that we both have experience in certain...practical matters.
Therefore I do not believe I will offend you if I remark that a daughter of Casterly Rock would bring as her bride price a substantial dowry, one that would greatly assist in restoring Spicetown and the Velaryon fleet to the glory they enjoyed before the manifold errors of the late Lord Corlys.
I merely offer this as a consideration, my Lord. Merely one factor among many that you must consider, as you weigh the attentions and attractions of the various maidens who shall surely vie for your hand.
Ser Tyland Lannister, Hand of the King, FOR Aegon of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men
We call upon LORD CREGAN STARK @Napolean_Barca to commune with LORD KERMIT TULLY, that the greatest and most loyal of our servants might be of one mind in the restoration of the Realm.
I must confer with my vassals on when we will be able to march. The North is vast and winter is here. I need time to assemble my army and make sure the winter harvests are properly gathered. Once we are able to gather our banners, we shall begin our march south.
To Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, @Napolean_Barca
Lord Stark,
In these uncertain times, marked by recent upheaval and marches upon King's Landing, I write to inquire about the North's position amidst these developments. Word has reached me of Lord Tully's mobilization, and I seek to know whether the North intends to join his march or if you plan to remain in the North, guarding your lands and people.
Additionally, the council would greatly benefit from understanding the current state of the North, as well as any matters or grievances you wish brought to our attention. It is our hope to address these in good faith and strengthen our unity as a realm, addressing each region's needs as best we can.
I await your reply, and I trust in your steadfast judgment during these critical times.
In loyalty and duty,
Ser Unwin Peake
Protector of the Realm, Lord of Starpike, Dunstonbury, and Whitegrove
We swore an oath to uphold and defend and uphold the edicts of King Aegon and his sworn advisors. I do not intend to break it.
To: The Various Northern Lords @Madam Carstein@Anon500@Aquadragon10
I call upon the the various lords of the North to gather and send their various representives to Winterfell to discuss the preparations for this unpcoming winter.
We have heard many unfortunate news coming from the south. Our King Aegon has fled the capital and is marching onto the capital with Lord Tully. They have asked us if we shall march and uphold our oath to King Aegon. I intend to keep my oath but with winter coming I would like to seek the council of my loyal vassals and ask their opinion on the matter. For as I mentioned earlier winter is here and as such a western march must be gravely considered and debated.
The office of the Lord Inquisitor was an endeavor begun with lofty ideals. To shutter the office of Master of Whispers, darkened as it was by the antics of Lord Larys and Lady Misery, and to appoint in place of it a holy man of noble blood. Such was the intent. Alas, worthy though the intent may have been....
I do not blame Septon Ottomore, formerly of the House of Hightower. I blame myself. To set a man such as the good Septon to such work, brother to the Faith by oath, brother to our Queen Dowager by blood, as well yoke a barded destier to a plow. No, the fault was mine, and to him, only the kindness that he humored me in my folly.
And so in gratitude for that kindness I release him from such shameful work, that he may return to Oldtown and the Starry Sept, and to deeds fitting his holy vows and his lineage.
And I hereby restore the office of Master of Whispers, to be filled by the Goodman Byron Gaffe, whose birth and station are more suited to such matters as that position must immerse itself in.
Tyland Lannister, Hand of the King, FOR Aegon, Third Of That Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men
Ottomore came back to see her the day after their first, erratic meeting. Perhaps to see her was the wrong way to describe the unpleasant visit Alicent was surprised by when she woke from her sweetsleep-induced slumber late in the afternoon. The silent maids came to dress her, comb her hair and tend to her chamberpot. The Dowager just followed through the motions, thinking only of when the Grand Maester would deliver her next dose and she could return to the warm sheets now hidden behind the bed canopy. When she left the bedchamber for the solar, however, it was not Munkun she saw, but Ottomore, seated by the Old King's desk, reading one of his scrolls, an astute look to his eyes. He looked up when Alicent, perplexed, joined him there.
"Your Grace."
His voice was obedient, and yet warm.
Alicent hated the sound of it.
"This is no part for a Queen to play," it had said, the day before. Helaena had come to her in her restless dreams once again, that night. "You know your part," her voice had echoed, again and again. "You know your part. You know your part."
The mere sight of him drove her mad.
"OUT!" the Queen bellowed, a finger pointing angrily towards the door. "LEAVE! NOW!"
Perhaps to her surprise, her older brother simply complied with her order, rising from his seat and returning the scroll (one of Septon Barth's writings, she saw now) to where he had taken it from. With a respectful nod, he left the room, the links around his neck chiming defiantly, the rainbow crystals around his grand collar reflecting the light in seven different colors as he did.
The next day, he was back again. The lowly guards stationed outside her apartments would not interfere with the business of a member of the Small Council, let alone one with a title as ominous as that of Lord Inquisitor, who commanded the dungeons and the King's confessors. Each day they let him inside, and each day Alicent would find him in the solar as she walked out of the bedchamber, as if he was working his way through Septon Barth's scrolls. Each day Alicent screamed at him to leave, and each day the Septon Ottomore complied quietly and diligently. Each day Alicent wept in his wake.
This charade went on for five days. By the sixth, Alicent was exhausted.
She didn't have the energy to scream at him again, nor the will to deal with the gaping empty hole he left in the room after his departure. She let him stay, telling herself that one day he would grow tired of it too and leave her to her ghosts. But Ottomore proved relentless. Alicent made a point of sharply ignoring him. She willed herself not to weep in his presence. She would not show weakness. When she wasn't crying nor sleeping, the days passed desperately slowly. Overcome by sheer boredom, she tried embroidery, but that didn't bring her any happiness either, for it reminded her of Helaena and the shroud she had unknowingly woven for the boy's funeral. She had had no recourse but to turn to the Old King's books again, if only to occupy her mind with something, anything. Thus, they read on in silence, both her and Ottomore, though her brother would sometimes make a thoughtful commentary on Septon Barth's Unnatural History, once stating how Munkun disagreed with the former Hand on a number of issues regarding the mating habits of dragons. The Septon did not take long to notice, however, that Alicent's spirits lowered even more, if that was even possible, whenever he brought up Barth's writings. Of course, he could not know that the Old King had passed while Alicent read Barth's Unnatural History to him, but soon Ottomore declared himself satisfied with the Septon Hand's works and turned to Maester Denestan's Questions instead, a dry and gargantuan volume on the History of the World.
Alicent ignored him. She never responded to any of his commentary, and instead focused upon her own reading. Ottomore enjoyed matters of theology, philosophy, statecraft and the higher mysteries. The Queen had much simpler interests. She had started with the Lives of the High Septons, but after a while found it dull and uninteresting. The illuminations were beautiful, the work of the Starry Sept, but after the twentieth High Septon, it was difficult to keep them all apart. Nicknames could only go so far. She hesitated to pick up her next reading material, but one cover stood out to her the most. The Loves of Queen Nymeria had been a particular favorite in her youth, though the Old King himself had found it too superfluous. She couldn't disagree with King Jaehaerys, but it was just what she needed. To be transported beyond the walls of her glorified cell, beyond the boundaries of her own time, to an age where a Queen was celebrated, rather than loathed, where she had the freedom to do as she pleased, to love whom she desired, to walk the ground and feel the summer breeze against her face. Much to her surprise, she found herself enjoying the illuminated book, experiencing the adventurous and free-spirited life that the Queen of the Rhoynar, though hunted by the fire demons of Old Valyria, had once lived.
Until, one day, against her better judgment, a commentary of her own escaped her lips, taking advantage of a temporary breach in the walls she had erected around herself.
"The Sword of the Morning gave up the rights of his own son in favor of Nymeria's eldest daughter," she mumbled, almost inaudibly. "They celebrate him for it. That doesn't sound fair."
Ottomore looked up from his own reading in surprise. Those were the first words the Dowager had addressed to him since their first meeting… at least words that had not been shouted at him in utter contempt. His eyes were calculating as he chose his next words carefully.
"The Rhoynar were a people of queer customs."
Alicent, despite herself, had to let out a snort.
"I know one thing or two about that."
The Septon looked at her expectantly to continue, but the Dowager only turned her attention back to the book. Still, there was a smile on Ottomore's face as he bade her good evening later that day, when the Grand Maester arrived at her chambers with the dreamwine. Alicent did not dream of Nymeria and the dashing Davos Dayne that night, but Helaena did come to her again. This time, however, there was no blood, no iron spikes, no slit throat or dead boys, just the late Queen playing with Jaehaera and her beetles. In life, Alicent had paid little mind to her daughter's strange interests, overwhelmed as she was by the circumstances surrounding her station. But that life had long been left behind, and so Alicent joined her daughter and granddaughter on the floor, asking Helaena about the beetles and how they lived, smiling as she watched her gently place one of the insects on her daughter's palms. The little girl giggled. She now knew her part, and it was right there.
When she woke, Alicent wondered what had become of her daughter's beetle collection.
It became easier after.
They spoke rarely at first, and only about the books they perused. By the time it took for Ottomore to finish reading Maester Denestan's Questions, Alicent had already devoured the Lives of Queen Nymeria and had moved on to the fantastic tales of the True Account of Addam of Duskendale's Journeys, documenting, perhaps with a certain kind of flavor, the merchant's voyages to Essos beyond the Jade Gates and the Bone Mountains. Alicent left Duskendale together with Addam, and found herself exploring the marvelous worlds of Bayasabhad, Samyriana and Kayakayanaya, where women were warriors and rode into battle bare-chested, their modesty only covered by ruby studs and iron rings.
"Addam of Duskendale's account lacks in detail what it has in imagination," Ottomore once said critically. "It is not unlikely he heard second hand tales in Yi Ti from those peoples, and recorded them as he heard it."
"Men are men," Alicent said dismissively, waving him off. "I do not doubt this Addam visited the Bone Mountains and the Great Sand Sea, but only thought to write of women's breasts in his chronicle." She looked up from the account to see her brother giving her a scandalized look. "What? Don't you look at me like that. You know it is true."
It took nearly two moons after his first visit for them to broach other topics, beyond the little world in the Old King's library they had constructed for themselves in seclusion from all the rest.
It was timid at first. They spoke of the weather, the cooks, the latest gossip in the court, and by the gods, Alicent never knew her brother to be interested in that so much, though she guessed it came with his new duties. They still left a sour taste in her mouth, so they never spoke of his business, or of the dealings of the Small Council or the seven regents. At most, they spoke of Jaehaera. In the beginning, the Dowager was reluctant to discuss her wayward granddaughter. The girl was simple and young, a mere child, and yet they had already sold her as a broodmare to continue the line of Rhaenyra's spawn (never mind that Alicent herself had played a role in it, when Aegon yet lived). But, Alicent had to admit to herself, she yearned for news of the girl. Jaehaera had been such a distant concern when the dead haunted her every hour, but the dead were dead. The living were hungry, and she was hungry for life most of all.
The talks about Jaehaera, one day, inevitably turned to Helaena. Alicent had few words to share with her brother, for her wounds still ran deeply, but her daughter had not been haunting her dreams as often as she used to, now. These days, she appeared to her as an almost soothing presence, though there were still bad nights. Ottomore wished to learn more about Helaena, and Alicent gave in to his questions as much (or, more accurately, as little) as she could.
In return, however, Ottomore would regale her with tales and stories about Daeron. Not about Daeron the Daring, the fearsome warrior known to song, but about Daeron, squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund in Oldtown. The boy whom Alicent had sent away to be fostered by kin she had never properly met, at the advice of her lord father, who wished to give Oldtown a Targaryen prince (and his dragon) to call its own, raised in the High Hall of the Hightowers in between the Citadel and the Starry Sept. Ottomore told her about the charming and musically-inclined boy he had helped tutor before the war had turned him into a hardened warrior. Gwayne had told her some of it, but there never had been enough time before the war claimed him, and back then their conversations had seemed less urgent regardless. Her son had been alive. She never thought she would have to get to know him through another. Daeron had been everything his brothers had not been: noble, gallant, temperate and judicious, like his father, like his grandfather, though with none of their vices. Alicent had never known this version of her son, and getting to know him, even if through Ottomore, helped heal her open wounds, the heavy question marks that had turned her heart into stone. She did not fail to notice, of course, that the child that had become her most well-adjusted one had grown up away from her, and away from court.
She wondered what that meant about herself, and what that bode for Jaehaera's future.
She allowed herself to cry in her brother's presence, for once, and did not shy away from it as she had before. It had been ugly, it had been soft, but when she next dreamed about Daeron, he came to her not as a trampled and charred corpse, but as a boy doing his best in his studies in Oldtown, chasing after that girl from Sunhouse whenever Lord Ormund wasn't looking, stealing kisses in hidden galleries.
One day, again, was different from the others. She was already up when Ottomore came by at his usual hour, an illustrated copy of Lomas Longstrider's Wonders Made by Man resting on her lap as she snuggled up against the seat in the alcove by the window.
"Your Grace, Septon Eustace is holding a service in honor of the Mother's seventh equinox today. A rare thing, indeed," he said enthusiastically. "He has invited us to attend, of course."
It took a moment for her to register his words.
"Septon Eustace?" She asked eventually. "A service? At the sept?"
"Within the hour," Ottomore confirmed with a nod.
Alicent regarded her brother wearily. The prospect of leaving her chambers… she was sure she could do it, of course. She was the Dowager Queen, entitled to everything in this castle under the Old King's laws, and no one had decreed her imprisonment. And yet… she had fought so hard to keep what laid on the other side of her doors out of her room, her mind, her heart. She had to confess to herself that the mere idea of leaving her chambers frightened her.
She did not know what she would find outside, and she was afraid to find out.
And yet…
You know your part, Helaena had whispered to her in her dreams, time and time again. You know your part!
I do.
This was not it.
Reluctantly, she shut Lomas Longstrider's account.
"Very well, then. Inform Septon Eustace that I will be there in time," she said, before adding acidly, for she was not one to entirely forget slights, "in my best behavior, of course."
Once Ottomore left, she turned to her wardrobe, already regretting her decision, but steadfast in holding herself to it. As she waited for her maids to arrive, she regarded her clothing options carefully. It had been a long time since she had last dressed for the outer world. She was not used to it anymore. Mayhaps she would let her dim-witted maids pick for her. Or, mayhaps… she stared at the assortment of green dresses, one more beautiful than the next. Once, she had worn one as a call to war. A decision to embrace her place as a Hightower, when the King denied her as a Targaryen. Her return to court should also be a statement. Her enemies had defeated her, and yet they had not broken her. Not beyond repair, at least. She may be broken, but she was not shattered. Mayhaps she should don the green gown once again to show them, all of them, that Alicent Hightower still lived and that she would not be cowed into submission or shut away in a room to die.
She chose a blue dress, instead, pale and modest. Her maids brought her her crown, a simple and light silver band encrusted with seven different-colored gems, a green emerald at the front, in a conscious, yet humbler, imitation of her late husband's crown. The maids also brought her a widow's veil, which she had affixed to the crown on her temples to cover her hair and preserve her modesty in a holy place. She was ready by the time her brother returned.
With a deep breath, the Dowager Queen stepped outside her apartments, arms interlocked with the Lord Inquisitor.
She ignored the looks cast at her as they climbed down the stairways of Maegor's Holdfast. She pointedly ignored the iron spikes as they came to the drawbridge which granted access into the keep. Only a lowly captain was guarding it, she noticed. Had the Kingsguard been complete, as it should, one of the whitecloaks would have been in his position instead. As it was, the captain scurried away to allow the Lord Inquisitor and the Dowager Queen passage. They swiftly made their way to the Royal Sept across from the stables and above the serpentine steps, where the Sea Snake's men had fallen upon her as the turncloak slew his King. She saw the bloodstains left by her slain guards, but ignored that too. She turned to the sept instead, where Septon Eustace gladly awaited them between altars of pale marble and high windows that turned sunlight into rainbows.
Jaehaera, she noticed, was not in attendance. She did not know whether to feel relieved, or disappointed. Mayhaps a bit of both.
"Your Grace," Septon Eustace greeted her deferentially, "it is good to see you again, here, among the gods."
He had always been a dear friend.
"It is good to be back, Septon," Alicent replied with surprising honesty.
How has it come to this? Alicent Hightower asked herself in despair, as she hurriedly made her way through the muddy cobblestones of Eel Alley.
The days after the Mother's Seventh Equinox had settled into an easy routine. Ottomore would still come to visit her daily, and they would read together and talk together, about matters of little and less importance that nevertheless kept Alicent's mind occupied. From the travels of Lomas Longstrider, she moved on to the Book of Holy Prayer, newly-made and illuminated, gifted to her by Septon Eustace, which she had at first been hesitant to accept, but thought it would be rude not to. Ottomore, meanwhile, had taken to reading Signs and Portents, penned by Daenys the Dreamer herself, though Alicent did not know why he was entertained by such gibberish. She had consulted it herself, after Viserys' death, to try and understand her late husband's interests better, but had found it barren. Still, her brother seemed enraptured, and Alicent humored him. Thrice a week, and once every seventh day, he took her to the royal sept, where Septon Eustace received her warmly and she joined the others in prayer (for absolution? For vengeance? For justice? For peace? She didn't know what to ask of the gods anymore). Every other evening, Grand Maester Munkun came to her with dreamwine. He was surprised, once, when Alicent asked him about one thing she had read in the Unnatural History, long, long ago. Munkun was familiar with Septon Barth's writing, and it had made for a pleasant, if short, conversation, before she allowed herself to be taken by sleep.
Then, one day, everything changed.
He came to her with the crack of dawn, shaking her awake. The dreamwine would not allow her to stir, not completely, but she slowly regained a measure of consciousness. Helaena drifted out of her view, but the eyes she met belonged to another ghost.
"Father… what…?"
"The Sea Snake is overthrowing the regency," Ottomore, she saw now, told her with urgency. "We must leave. Now."
"Wha-"
"Lord Corlys has lost his mind, and Lady Arryn with him," he informed her. His words broke the spell that she had been under, that she was, somehow, immune to the intrigues of the court if she would just ignore them. "You are in danger. We must go."
Her mind went to that dreadful night in the Tower of the Hand, a lifetime ago, it seemed.
"Jaehaera?" She asked immediately.
"Beyond our reach," the Septon replied gravely, "but as safe as she can be now."
Alicent shook her head fervently. The image of her butchered grandson in her head threatened to make her vomit.
"I will not go without her!"
"Then you will be wielded by the Sea Snake against her," her brother responded harshly, before his expression turned gentler. "Trust me, Alicent."
She was surprised to find out that she did.
Or perhaps the dreamwine did not allow her to fully think it through.
"Can Corlys get to her?"
"No," Ottomore vowed seriously.
She had believed him. Against all her instincts, she had believed him, and she hoped she would not have to pay a costly price for this trust, as she had with the Clubfoot. But Ottomore Hightower was not Larys Strong, she was convinced now, or at least as convinced as she could be. They left in a hurry, with Alicent barely being able to put on a long coat which her brother had provided her, covering her head with a cowl. Groggily, for the dreamwine would not permit her to fully wake, she followed the Lord Inquisitor through empty corridors and hidden passages, shadowed by his inquisitors, clad in mail and leathers. The sounds of fighting, the clash of steel on steel, could be heard outside. They left through a small postern gate, the guards stationed there turning a blind eye to their flight. Either Ottomore had filled their pockets, or they would not stand in the way of the Lord Inquisitor any more than the guards stationed outside her own chambers had. She did not know. Mayhaps a bit of both.
It was only when they were making the trek up Visenya's Hill in Eel Alley, with the effects of the dreamwine slowly, but surely, fading away, that the Dowager came to fully appreciate the enormity of the situation.
The Sea Snake was overthrowing the regency.
Jaehaera was not with them.
"We must turn back," she pleaded.
"I do not know who will prevail in this confrontation," Ottomore admitted. "There are hidden figures behind it all, yet to reveal their next plays. The end of this day is not written in the stars."
Alicent would not hear of it.
"We must turn back!"
"It is too late," her brother said. "You know it is."
She hated herself for agreeing with him.
"Where… where are we going?" She asked instead. They did not have many allies left standing nearby. "Storm's End?"
"Lord Caron is in league with Corlys," Ottomore said ruefully instead. "No, sister. Somewhere far closer."
From Eel Alley, the climb up the slopes of Visenya's Hill did not take long. Ottomore quickly guided her up the stairs that led to the Grand Sept, commissioned in the time of Aegon the Conqueror and sponsored by the High Septon in Oldtown. The bronze doors opened for them. The septons, septas and Silent Sisters inside regarded them with awe. The Dowager Queen knew what she had to do. Stepping forward, she removed her cowl, letting her wavy hair, still disarranged from her sleep, fall down her shoulders.
"I am Alicent Hightower, widow to King Viserys Targaryen," she intoned loudly, for all to hear, "and I come seeking sanctuary!"
All laws, both ecclesiastical and secular, condemn the shedding of human blood, unless by chance they punish by judgment a crime already committed.
This false regency that now commands Kings Landing, in spite of the flight of our King to Riverrun would have us believe that the Lady Jeyne, a woman who we have known for many years, has betrayed the trust placed in her by the realm, that she acted in venal greed and without love for her own kin. This being our Lady, a woman who proved her worth in many trials and tribulations. Who gave willingly and without spare to us her lords and ladies the aid and succour an Arryn should and always does provide us, their leal subjects.
When trouble came to the Vale she proved her administration was tempered by both womanly compassion and grace as well as the steel and mettle that the Falcon of the Eyrie has always possessed.This same woman, she gave to us a peace and unity during this most difficult time we just saw ravage and ruin our great realm.
All that has taken in place is clearly just sin. It is greed. It is venal corruption. It is horror and evil unmatched. The order of the Realm is being usurped. Now lords seek to overthrow the greatest peers of the realm, to smear them with treason, to paint them as traitors to a crown. To paint a kinswoman of the King as a traitor. To paint her as a rebel. To attaint her. To dispossess her. To humiliate and drive her into a Sept as a silent sister.
The Vale should and must answer. I call to the Lords to make ready 100 men each from your lands for this purpose. In good harness and with steeds aplenty as well as good provisions. We shall have to journey across mean lands and submit our wrath to this decision.
Furthermore. While we must answer this humiliation of our Lady and our realm. We must still guard it yet.
I was named Regent for Lady Jeyne in her absence. While I shall maintain those duties and hold my office in the Vale I would grant to House Redfort the rank of Captain and the charge of raising a force of 2,000 to match the rising clansmen incursions. I would ask your aid in this matter in terms of footmen, foodstuffs as well as lodgings for I suspect it shall be a hard campaign across all the Vale for Lord Redfort and his brave companions.
Men of the the Mountains, of the Vale, and of the Eyrie,
Our fair Maiden has been imprisoned by very same who had stripped Rhaenyra of her crown: Hightower, Lannister, Wylde
They scheme to deprive our Lady of her rights and to turn our very faith into a tool of their vices.
Jeyne Arryn is a woman beyond reproach, and all the realm placed trust in Lord Protector Leowyn Corbray to enforce the King's laws and uphold the King's peace, whomever has heard the accursed name Tyland Lannister shall forever hold it in contempt.
I echo Lord Gunthor Royce's call to arms, and I challenge each man who struck up arms in the past year's muster to do the same, a five hundred and one thousand knights answered her past plea, and I know each of you to hold the sanctity of Law and the Grace of the Maiden true in your hearts.
There is no greater Honor in serving your liege, in giving thanks to the Seven, and in Vanquishing your FOES. Joffrey Arryn, Knight of the Bloody Gate
Lord Leowyn Corbray, Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms,
Lord Raymund Redfort, Captain of the Mountains,
You have my sword and lance, my lords. Should you see me guard the passes, or venture out during winter's call, I shall not flinch from the challenge. The Warrior braved any pass and any turmoil to save his Maiden, I will not, shall not, forsake his image. Task me to march with Tully's force, or to retrieve the King to the Eyrie, and I will not bend to any power save the Gods' own.
I must confer with my vassals on when we will be able to march. The North is vast and winter is here. I need time to assemble my army and make sure the winter harvests are properly gathered. Once we are able to gather our banners, we shall begin our march south.
We swore an oath to uphold and defend and uphold the edicts of King Aegon and his sworn advisors. I do not intend to break it.
To: The Various Northern Lords @Madam Carstein@Anon500@Aquadragon10
I call upon the the various lords of the North to gather and send their various representives to Winterfell to discuss the preparations for this unpcoming winter.
We have heard many unfortunate news coming from the south. Our King Aegon has fled the capital and is marching onto the capital with Lord Tully. They have asked us if we shall march and uphold our oath to King Aegon. I intend to keep my oath but with winter coming I would like to seek the council of my loyal vassals and ask their opinion on the matter. For as I mentioned earlier winter is here and as such a western march must be gravely considered and debated.
I, Lord Desmond Manderly will come with my heir Ser Medrick Manderly to gather to discuss preparations for winter.
Marshalling our forces is an issue what with winter approaching a march might not be possible. Add that all the Northmen that settled in the Riverlands at the end of the Dance. But if needs be, I can send some swords led by Medrick to aid in the march. I will stand by you my liege, but I do fear how Lady Alysanne is taking all of this. If rumors be true from the capital, and I will only be able to confirm that once Torrhen finally sails home, her little brother Lord Ben might be a foe this time.
I must confer with my vassals on when we will be able to march. The North is vast and winter is here. I need time to assemble my army and make sure the winter harvests are properly gathered. Once we are able to gather our banners, we shall begin our march south.
We swore an oath to uphold and defend and uphold the edicts of King Aegon and his sworn advisors. I do not intend to break it.
To: The Various Northern Lords @Madam Carstein@Anon500@Aquadragon10
I call upon the the various lords of the North to gather and send their various representives to Winterfell to discuss the preparations for this unpcoming winter.
We have heard many unfortunate news coming from the south. Our King Aegon has fled the capital and is marching onto the capital with Lord Tully. They have asked us if we shall march and uphold our oath to King Aegon. I intend to keep my oath but with winter coming I would like to seek the council of my loyal vassals and ask their opinion on the matter. For as I mentioned earlier winter is here and as such a western march must be gravely considered and debated.
I, Lionel Bolton, along with my heir, Roderik Bolton, will answer your summons, and come to Winterfell
Barba Bolton and Cedric Snow will also probably attend this meeting, if only just because they already wanted to make some deals with House Manderly, who is going to be at the summit.
Proclamation delivered from the High Hall of the High Tower, in the presence of representatives of the City of Oldtown, the Citadel and the Starry Sept, and sent out with the winds to all the realm
Three moons ago, we, the high lords of the Seven Kingdoms, came together in King's Landing to witness the restoration of peace and justice in the realm with the coronation of King Aegon, Third of his Name, and his marriage to Queen Jaehaera of House Targaryen. We were not only spectators to the rebirth of the realm at the onset of this great winter, but also forged the peace and order that was to follow the devastation brought upon all of us by the Dance of the Dragons. We, the assembled high lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, came together in a council not seen since the days of the Old King to elect seven regents to bear the burden of the Crown until the King came of age. This was the peace that ended the war, and the order that would ensure the peace forevermore.
And yet, not three moons after the high lords of the Seven Kingdoms invested the Regency with the powers it claimed, we stood witness to its collapse under the ambition and greed of men, the Regency undone through men who lacked the rightful powers to make it so. High lords and trueborn knights have been slain, others unlawfully imprisoned, while the self-proclaimed Regency has lost custody of the King and Queen themselves, and with them all the little legitimacy that remained to them. Now, the Seven Kingdoms are at the brink of war yet again, as the ambitious and the greedy try to seize the power of the House of the Dragon for themselves in their time of frailty.
This must come to an end.
We, therefore, call on Ser Tyland of House Lannister to step down from the position of Hand of the King, and to surrender the Red Keep and the Iron Throne to King Aegon Targaryen, Third of his Name, just as the misguided supporters of Maegor the Cruel once surrendered the crown and castle to Jaehaerys the Conciliator, even during his minority.
Many have been the misdeeds of the Hooded Hand's misrule, the gravest of all his alienation of the King and Queen, both physical and spiritual. Yet there are countless others. The Hand overthrew the seven regents the Realm had empowered, and claimed to rule in his own right, in the name of a King whose very crown he failed to uphold. Under his watch, Lord Corlys Velaryon, the late Lord of the Tides, was murdered. Under his watch, Lady Jeyne of House Arryn, Lady of the Vale and Wardeness of the East, was sentenced without being given a proper trial, as a lady of the highest birth and greatest honor was entitled to. He led the Dowager Queen to take sanctuary in the Grand Sept, lest she fell victim the violence that has taken over the court. His actions have led to the collapse of the King's peace, though bloodshed may yet be avoided if humility prevails over pride, and loyalty over greed.
Thus, we call on Tyland Lannister to prove himself a loyal servant of the Crown yet again and to remove himself from court, to live out the remainder of his days in Casterly Rock, if the King deems it so. Until then, or if proven otherwise, we denounce him, in the name of the Old Gods and the New, as a usurper of the royal authority of the Iron Throne, his decrees null and void, and announce that Oldtown shall know no authority in King's Landing but that of His Grace the King.
We Light the Way,
Lord Lyonel of House Hightower
Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port, Lord of the High Tower,
Defender of the Citadel and Beacon of the South
When the dragons soared and danced in the sky, you declared war on your liege lord and raised your banner against the High Tower. You mustered your arms, gathered them into a great host and, allied with our then enemies, fell upon your lord on the banks of the Honeywine. For this treason, my father subjugated and imprisoned you, putting you in chains to await trial.
But I am not my father.
What the late Lord Ormund called treason, I call filial obedience. The ancestral ties of vassalage may have been broken, but there were elder laws at play. A son owes obedience to his father, as does a grandson to his grandsire, and I could not fault you for raising your banner in defense of your own. The friendship between House Hightower and House Beesbury is as true as it is ancient. I will not have it cast aside over the wars that the dragons fought. The grim fate that befell Lord Lyman Beesbury was a tragedy; an unacceptable ending to a man of honor who had admirably served the Crown since the times of the Old King. Let it be known that this Lord Hightower also mourns him with you. Should you wish it, I shall write to King's Landing to arrange for his remains to be returned to Honeyholt, where they may at last rest in peace.
We have erred, and for this we free you from your imprisonment, and restore you to all your titles, holdings, lands and incomes, your honor and dignity, as well as that of your house, left unimpeached.
Kin cannot be faulted for standing with kin. For this reason, I wish to unite our houses in blood, so that I may call you my kinsman. Let us reconcile, my lord, and help heal the realm from the wounds that the Dance inflicted. Take a Hightower maid as your wife. I have cousins aplenty, whose dowries will do much to restore the fortunes of Honeyholt. Send us also a maiden of your house to serve Lady Hightower as a lady-in-waiting. In time, we shall also strive to promote a good match for her, with your consent, of course.
Furthermore, should you accept my friendship as it is proposed, Lord Alan, I shall name you Lord Marshall of the Honeywine. The war has left Oldtown lacking in commanders of suitable station and experience, to lead our armies against the enemies of the Crown. Your pedigree is impeccable, as is your station and authority as Lord of Honeyholt, and none would dare to question your skill at arms or experience in the field, my late father least of all. Do me this great honor, and I vow to never ask of you a service that would bring you dishonor.
A son must obey his father, but a son must not be his father. Their wars are ended. We can only provide justice and rebuild the peace. Let Hightower and Beesbury stand together once more, as they have since the times of Garth Greenhand.
We Light the Way,
Lord Lyonel of House Hightower
Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port, Lord of the High Tower,
Defender of the Citadel and Beacon of the South
I hold no regrets for the allegiance that I and my lord grandfather held to Rhaenyra Targaryen, for it was not only loyalty to my grandfather's vision and the will of King Viserys that motivated me to declare for Queen Rhaenyra's cause, but the sacred and inviolable oaths sworn by my house to support her. I believed then as I believe now that to honour one's oaths is a sacred duty entrusted by the Seven themselves. Else we are little better than Wildlings.
I do not say this to spite you or besmirch you, for it was your father who marched Oldtown to war, not yourself. But I admit that in this new era of peace, however tenuous, I cannot so easily put aside all that has happened. I fear that Honeyholt would not be an easy place for a lady of House Hightower. Many members of my household count their friends and kin among the dead. And I know as a husband it would be my duty to care for my wife from this day to my last day, but I cannot say that I would not struggle to move past such a troubled history between our houses. It does not please me to admit my flaws, but I am as the Gods fashioned me.
As such, I must decline the offer of a Hightower marriage, however, if you would still be willing take into your household a lady of House Beesbury, I would be amenable to taking on a Hightower boy to raise as a fosterling or to serve as mine own squire. Let those who shall be the future of our two houses be raised to think of one another as friends even when those such as myself struggle with the past.
As to your offer of the position of Lord Marshal, I would be willing to accept this office.
SER LEO OF HOUSE COSTAYNE is hereby named and confirmed as LORD ADMIRAL OF THE WHISPERING SOUND, to lead the fleet of Oldtown and defend the Port and all of the lands under our dominion from enemies of the Crown.
LORD COSTAYNE, in the spirit of reconciliation, is invited to provide maidens of his house to serve as ladies-in-waiting and companions to the Lady Hightower. We furthermore award him a stipend to restore and strengthen the defenses of Three Towers, and to build new galleys, for it is still a time of strife in the Seven Kingdoms, and the disorder that plagues the Sunset Sea may yet spill over to the Summer Sea. Let it be known that House Hightower shall defend each and every sworn bannerman.
A similar stipend is to be provided to LORD BULWER, for the fortification of Blackcrown and the assembling of new ships. Loyalty, friendship and kinship must also be rewarded, so we invite Lord Bulwer to dispatch a son to Oldtown to serve me personally as cupbearer, and announce our intention to arrange a marriage between a trueborn maiden of House Hightower and House Bulwer. We further invite a son of House Bulwer to take over command of the City Watch of Oldtown, in recognition of their martial prowess, ancient history and loyal service, committed to good order. We further confer upon Lord Bulwer the title of GRAND CONSTABLE OF OLDTOWN, to oversee the good order, provisions and needs of our hosts and our knights.
LORD CUY shall also be awarded a similar stipend for services rendered and defensive purposes, and an offer of marriage between our houses. We invite him to provide a son to serve as my page in Oldtown, and call upon him to provide suitable recommendations for the positions of Captain of the Guard and Seneschal of the High Tower. We furthermore grant the port town of Cuy a ten year exemption from taxation.
At last, but not least, LORD MULLENDORE is invited to dispatch maidens of his house to serve as ladies-in-waiting to the Lady Hightower. We put forward a marriage proposal for my cousin, Ser Garse Hightower, and a maiden of House Mullendore, in the spirit of reconciliation. We further request him to serve us as Grand Huntsman, or to provide suitable recommendations for the position.
Lords Costayne, Bulwer, Cuy, and Mullendore accept the proposals in full.
Lord Costayne sends his nieces, Arwen and Melessa, to serve as ladies-in-waiting.
Lord Bulwer sends selects his youngest son, Braxton, to serve as Lord Hightower's cupbearer, and proposes his uncle, Ser Jaehaerys Bulwer, to command the City Watch. Ser Jaehaerys has a son named Aegon who is a man of two-and-twenty and is unmarried and would be more than willing to marry a Hightower.
Lord Cuy sends young Harys Cuy to serve as a page and recommends his younger brothers, Lucifer and Robert Cuy as Captain of the Guard and Seneschal respectively.
Lady Mullendore writes to regretfully inform that her husband, the Lord of Uplands, has taken to his sick bed but that she knows he would be greatly honoured by this proposal. She suggests her daughter, Lady Alysanne Mullendore, to marry Ser Garse. And she puts forward her brother-in-law, Ser Martyn Mullendore, to serve as Grand Huntsman.
We thank you, Ser Damon. House Darry's loyalty and kindness will not be forgotten so long as the King lives and shall be repaid tenfold in time.
---
By Decree of Aegon the Third of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men
We call upon PRINCESS BAELA TARGARYEN @Velasco and PRINCESS RHAENA TARGARYEN @Foadar, our beloved sisters, to send word to us via CASTLE DARRY of their safety or lacktherof.
SO DECREES THE KING
SO SAYS THE HOUSE OF THE DRAGON
A letter is privately forwarded to King Aegon Targaryen. It bears a modified Targaryen seal, with a pink dragon instead of a red dragon.
Little Egg,
I am as safe as I can be now. I have tried to be a voice of reason, to ensure that none of this lead to further violence, but it has shown to be futile. Since then, I've...learned, that someone wants me dead, should King's Landing be besieged. To counteract this, I am retiring with my trusted followers to a safe place in the Reach, which I shall not write here for fear of this correspondence being read by unfriendly eyes in your household. Once things die down again, I shall come for you. I trust those I have gathered around me with my life.
Trust not Jeyne Arryn, and beware her conspirators. Her kindly face was a mask, her bid for power repulsive. Our grandfather was no innocent in this, but she seeks power for power's sake alone, to a revolting degree. Power that is ours, by right.
It's a question with a very simple answer. She is standing in front of the wagon carrying much of Princess Rhaena's possessions. She has been here many times, getting things for her Lady. Now is not one of those times, now she is standing by the wagon in the middle of the night, hidden in a dark cloak she hopes will hide her from anyone that stumbles upon the scene.
That is what she is doing.
That's the simple answer.
There is however also a longer, more complicated answer. An answer Rhae doesn't truly know the answer to. It had begun with feelings and soon moved on to thoughts and realisations and from there to poems and eventually letters, but where would she go next? She had felt powerless against the feelings and the thoughts. She hadn't been able to stop herself from writing down her sinful thoughts. Now she was even disseminating her great sin into the world, letting it spread to those she loved, though they were unknowing of its true nature.
It was sin, right?
She hadn't dared ask anyone about it. She knew it was unnatural and a stepping stone to truly monstrous things, but was what she was doing now a sin?
It must be.
Still, she could not stop herself. The very idea felt like cutting out a piece of herself. She had already lost so many pieces that she would rather die than lose another.
Would she rather burn in the Seven Hells for all eternity though?
If she was as powerless to her own sinful thoughts and hands as she felt, that is where she was going to end up.
...
She hid the letter in one of the dresses, so it would be discovered when the Princess got dressed in the morning.
This way lies the path to hell, she recalled from the Seven Pointed Star
@Foadar When Rhaena gets dressed the next morning, her servants discover a letter that had been left in her dress. No one had seen it being laid there, so it must have happened sometime before that morning.
My love, above all else you I adore Your soft sweet lips and silken silver hair
And your dragon, that in the heavens soar
With each simple glance, you my soul ensnare
You are so good and kind and quick of wit
A heavenly paragon in earthy shape
Flames of desire in my heart you have lit
And in my colours, I wish to you drape
But this cursed world is harsh and isn't kind
For with you I shall never be entwined
This post has been co-written with the lovely @Foadar
Before the Great Conspiracy of 131...
Sunglass keep was not a large castle, protected more by the sea than vast fortifications, but even if Rhae had grown up in any of the larger castles of the realm she would still have been awed by the Red Keep. It was not the largest in the realm, but was both as terrible and splendorous as she had imagined it would be.
In less than two centuries, even less time than the upstart Freys had had, House Targaryen had built one of the most marvelous cities and one of the greatest castles in the realm. Though if one factored in the millenia of wonders the Valyrians had built, it wasn't that great of a surprise what House Targaryen had managed to do with a mere century and a half.
The blood of old Valyria is strong; her blood is strong.
But these musings on the ancient past quickly gave way to more immediate concerns.
She had gotten a letter, a very important yet somewhat expected letter. The very goal of the relocation to King's Landing was to support the royal house, yet also baked into this was the understanding that the pursuit of positions in court would be both good and necessary if they were going to be of any true aid.
Being a young Lady, belonging to a loyal Black house and conveniently being so nearby meant that Rhae was a perfect fit for lady-in-waiting to either of the princesses. So it was when the letter came from Princess Rhaena, it wasn't the greatest surprise.
Rhae still felt somewhat nervous about it though.
As the guards led her through the castle, over the moat and into Maegor's Holdfast, she managed to calm herself. She was the blood of old Valyria, Lady of Sweetport Sound and soon maybe even lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaena. A simple letter or meeting would not break her.
Soon they arrived at the door to the princess' office. Two valemen stood there, bearing the moon and falcon of Arryn, but with a nod from one of the guards that had led her there, the Valemen opened the door, allowing Rhae into the office and the presence of Princess Rhaena.
As others had told her, she was rarely alone. Beyond the guards at the doors, while no others were within the room aside from the two of them, the Princess' young dragon was clearly coiled around her neck like a stoat. Its eyes were closed as she approached, but briefly opened, to smell the air, before closing again.
The Princess herself was busy, seemingly writing a letter at her desk, which she finished by sealing it with wax, before turning to her at last. She was radiant, in an indigo dress, her hair done up in a long but simple braid, all matching well her Valyrian beauty.
She spoke softly, seemingly in a bid not to wake her dragon.
''Ah, Lady Sunglass, I presume ?''
Rhae nodded, shyly.
''Please, have a seat. I shall be with you shortly, I just must hand this off first.''
A servant materialized out of a side door, and the Princess gave her the sealed letter, with a pat on the shoulder. She vaguely caught their short conversation, something to the degree of ''and hurry on now''
''Well then, Lady Sunglass. Let's get to business, shall we?''
''I trust the summons were clear on why you are here?''
She said, as she sat down and looked at her, intently.
"Yes, my Princess and if you will allow me to say, I'm both honoured and thankful for the consideration"
As she spoke, she tried not to let her eyes linger on the dragon wrapped so snuggly around the Princess' neck. That such a small creature would one day be a symbol of both power and majesty was not easy to imagine, yet it was an undeniable truth.
"I am a Lady"
The quick comment immediately pulled Rhae out of her dragon-related thoughts as she turned her full attention towards Princess Rhaena.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I am not a princess, my father was a prince, yes, but I am but a Lady"
This caught Rhae a bit off guard. To refer to Rhaena, third in line to the throne and the daughter of a great man like the Rogue Prince, as simply Lady felt... wrong.
"Of course my Lady, I am sorry for the mistake"
"Do not fret, it is easily done."
"I thank you for your understanding"
The Princess, ehm, Lady Rhaena briefly reached out to scratch the scales of the sleeping dragon, once again drawing her attention to it, before speaking.
''Now then, to business. As you know, I have been gathering ladies to attend to me. Despite Lady Arryn's…pushing, this is a matter of personal choice. And that is why I have reached out to you. I desire those of the old blood, and those of proven loyalty. You certainly are the former, and I hope also the latter.
''Of course, this comes with benefits, but also dangers. The calamity of the past years alone have proven that much. Too many dead, so fast. So I warn you too that if you accept to become my lady in waiting, it is not without risk.''
Lady Rhaena sighed, and visibly relaxed.
''What say you, then?''
There it was, what she had been yearning for. She was of the old blood, she was of undying loyalty, she would serve. When she spoke she spoke steadier, with certainty in her voice.
"If you will have me, I will gladly serve you, my Lady. My family has loyally served and sacrificed for yours. I would not dream of doing anything else"
She can't stop herself from smiling, though she quickly schooled her features back to calm. The words had lifted a weight from the shoulders and everything felt just a little bit more clear. They might not be here now, but when she sees father, Damon and all the others again, she hopes they will be proud of her.
"You are doing me a great honour"
''Truly ? This is great ! I am glad you would agree. Some of my other choices were not exactly without coercion. I am meeting one of Borros Baratheon's spawn later today as well.''
Her Lady looked thoughtful for a moment.
''I shall call for you tomorrow with the others, once it is done, and inform you then of the finer details. Go now, and celebrate, if you so desire. I must attend to the other choices now. Show my ''dear'' cousin in on the way out, would you?"
And with that it was over. She could feel the bubbling happiness return as she was gently shown the door. She would serve her Lady well, that she was certain of.
Once again, this post has been co-written between myself and the lovely Foadar.
It was also my first time ever co-writing a post for a GSRP!
-A council of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters
Lys-
To understand the significance of the person of Sharako Lohar in the city of Lys, one must understand that Lyseni politics of the Triarchy period were deeply precarious. Prior to the founding of the Triarchy, a number of slave uprisings and agitation among the city's considerable population of freedmen and freedwomen had rocked the power that the Lyseni Magisters held over the population. Most surprisingly, this discontent among freedmen and their descendants was regarded as so dangerous by the Magisters that laws were passed to extend privileges and rights to wealthy freedmen and thus win over their support, an act which was regarded as radical by the wealthy. There was even talk of restricting slaves to certain professions to lessen the city's dependence upon slavery, but such notions were quickly quashed as an outrage against the proper order of Lyseni society.
More troubling still was the rise of a man named Anarias Naar. Anarias Naar was the third son of a winemaker who had little chance of inheritance and instead made a fortune of his own fighting in the Disputed Lands. The victories he won and the riches he brought to Lys built him a considerable base of support. He created a coalition of sellswords, minor merchants, sailors, and traders, and impoverished Lyseni who had little voice in Lyseni politics. Naar's coalition represented those who were on the edges of Lyseni society and politics, but though he was regarded as a man of radical mind, it must be noted that Naar's aims were modest in scope: he sought to solve the troubles of the city by distributing estates in the Disputed Lands to the Lyseni poor, while also embarking on further campaigns against Tyrosh and Myr to seize more lands and thus provide more wealth and more land that would enrich Lys and bring prosperity to the common people.
Within two years of returning from the Disputed Lands, Anarias Naar was assassinated in broad daylight on the Street of Wines, a crowd of men swarmed him and stabbed him no less than sixty-two times, after which not a single witness ever came forward with the identity of the assassins and Anarias Naar was accused of plotting to betray the city to Tyrosh and posthumously declared a traitor and his body thrown into the sea, unfit for even a humble burial within the walls of Lys.
After his death, Lyseni politics became immensely more rigid and repressive. The small gains that had been won by freedmen were reversed and slavery in Lys was enforced more harshly than ever.
But when the war against Volantis broke out, the need for soldiers against the Volantenes became so great that freedmen were recruited to fight them. In return, they were paid in grants of land captured from Volantis. In doing this, the Lyseni Magisters once more assured their dominance: neutralising the potent threat of unrest amongst freedmen by moving many of them out of the city, but also consolidating the power of the Magisters and assuring that they alone would rule in Lys.
The era of the Triarchy would raise the wealth of the Magisters to new heights, but it would also make Lyseni politics deeply unstable as politics was less dominated by the traditional consensus among the powerful and more dominated by powerful individuals and figures who consolidated their own bases of power independent of traditional power structures. Sharako Lohar was emblematic of this period: a feared pirate and naval commander who was revered as a hero. Though Westerosi sources often depicted Lohar as simply a lowborn criminal, a cautionary against allowing too much power into the hands of lowborn men, such claims were little more than a fabrication. Sharako Lohar was the firstborn son of Sahaerys Lohar, a Magister of Lys. The Lohar family was old and traced its origins to the the founding of Lys. And though their wealth was not as great as it had once been, they were far from impoverished.
Unlike Sharako Lohar, a true outsider who rose to prominence in Lys was Johanna Swann, a Westerosi noblewoman who was abducted by pirates operating out of the Stepstones who promptly sold her to the Lyseni. But Lady Johanna, against all odds, rose to power by learning and exploiting the gossip and secrets of powerful men throughout Lys. When she used her knowledge of a plot to thwart a scheme to discredit a Lyseni Magister, Lady Johanna was awarded with great wealth and favour, it was said that then and there she found her path to power. But in time, even those who owed her nothing began to seek her favour: hoping to buy secrets and paths to power. It was said that Lady Johanna's mere word could raise a man to the heights of riches and bring him to ruin just as swiftly. As a result, countless powerful men and women in Lys vied for the information she possessed. But somehow, no matter how many secrets one bought or favours one bestowed, the balance of power always ultimately went in Lady Johanna's favour.
Songs and stories recounting the event often claimed that Sharako Lohar was a man deeply and madly in love with Lady Johanna, whereas those more familiar with the intricacies of Lyseni politics believed it more likely that Lohar was simply a pragmatic man who recognised the power Lady Johanna possessed and, particularly after his defeat at the Battle of the Gullet, sought to restore his power through a marriage to Lady Johanna. With such an ally by his side, Lohar could effectively rule Lys with little need for the support of the Magisters and dedicate his efforts to the singular goal of revenge against the Seven Kingdoms, a plot he suspected Lady Johanna would have little opposition to, given that her own uncle, the Lord of Stonehelm had not sent a single coin to pay her ransom.
However, Sharako Lohar's plot of one day building a fleet to lay King's Landing to waste and cement his legacy as the greatest admiral in the history of Lys would be derailed by a plot against his life. Accounts from Lohar's own bodyguards state that while walking to the docks to look over the progress of the fleet he was building, Lohar, who was in a hurry, collided with a finely-dressed older man who wore silken robes. The older man was chagrined by this incident, profusely apologised, stating "I am so sorry," and offering a cordial bow to Admiral Lohar before taking his leave. Lohar reported having felt a sharp sting upon the collision, as if from the bite of an insect, but had other business and thought nothing of the incident.
Within one day, Sharako Lohar retired to his chambers complaining of illness. Within two, he was bedridden and running a high fever. Within three, he was dead. His physician examined him for signs of natural sickness but the speed and virulence of his demise suggested poison. But despite having studied well the many poisons employed throughout the Free Cities, Sharako Lohar's personal physician stated that the poison resembled none he had ever seen. Still, having examined Admiral Lohar, his physician conclusively announced that Sharako Lohar had been murdered by poisoning.
The elderly man who had collided with the admiral and was suspected of being the assassin, was never found.
One of the mysteries of Lyseni politics of this period was the matter of exactly who conspired to kill Sharako Lohar. The most commonly-accepted explanation was that the assassination was the work of Arcario Naeris, a wealthy merchant who believed that his marriage to Lady Johanna would help him rise to the rank of First Magister. However, this was not the only suspect. Sharako Lohar had many enemies, and some even speculated that his younger brother, Menario, who would have inherited the childless Sharako's wealth upon his death, either directly conspired to murder his brother or at least did nothing to stop the plot as he would benefit from Sharako's demise.
However, a poetic though unlikely explanation widely held by the commonfolk of Lys is that the would-be assassin was a descendant of Anarias Naar, as it was known that the Lohar family had very likely played a role in his assassination.
In an act that retrospectively was seen as having possibly sealed the fate of the Triarchy, Menario Lohar, at his brother's funeral, would loudly proclaim to all in attendance that his brother's murderer had not come from Lys, but rather was a plot by Lys' enemies to destroy the city from within. Though he did not identify either Myr or Tyrosh, the political situation in the Triarchy was volatile enough that few could deny that this was the intended meaning of his words. Though, historians of the Free Cities would note in later publications that the alliance was already beginning to fragment and clashes between the three cities in the Disputed Lands had already begun by the time of Lohar's death.
In 131 AC, the man considered to be the most powerful man in Lys (though it was thought that even he knew better than to cross Johanna Swann) was the Magister, Bambarro Bazanne. The office of First Magister was held by the Maeturio Qaeratis, a rich merchant whose popularity was waning due to his perceived inability to curb growing instability in the Disputed Lands. It was thought by many that Bambarro himself may run for the office when Qaeratis' term ended in 135 AC. Though there were rumours that Qaeratis was struggling with illness and may have been planning to step down sooner, an act which would force an election to succeed him. But time would tell.
------------------------------------------------------------
Myr-
Whereas Lyseni politics of the period had a reputation for being cutthroat and violent, the people of Myr generally regarded themselves as the most peaceful and civilised of the Three Daughters. But much as Myr's rulers would have themselves be seen thus, theirs too was a troubled history. For Myrish politics in past decades had been heavily marred by the terrible factional violence between the Azaari and Vaenaari factions who had dominated Myrish politics in the waning decades of the first century AC. The factions were named for their leaders: Imros Azaar and Symerio Vaenaar. Imros Azaar was a man born to poverty but who had been adopted by a wealthy merchant as his son and thus risen to power and prominence. Whereas Nyserio Vaenaar was a Magister who represented the interests of Myr's conservative rulers, presided over the faction that took his name.
Unlike in Lys where those who sought reform and change had few avenues of advancement, the Myrish system offered somewhat more pathways into power for free citizens who did not hail from the old families. Moreover, Imros Azaar's vision advocated a number of extremely popular policies: increased protections and pathways to gaining Myrish citizenship for freedmen, a grain dole to provide for the city's poor and destitute, and expanding the number of Magisters while lessening the property requirements for the position to allow for a wider range of participation in Myrish politics. Despite the friendliness of the Azaari faction to freedmen, who comprised a considerable part of Myr's population, there is little indication that Imros Azaar, who himself inherited many slaves from his adopted father, held any notions of abolishing slavery. At most, Azaar sought to simply limit its scope: as he believed that slaves in Myr had taken the work of good and honest citizens and that limiting slavery to certain professions and roles would provide more opportunities for free citizens.
The Vaenaari, meanwhile, broadly represented moneyed interests and those who sought the maintenance of the existing social order in Myr. However, not all of Nyserio Vaenaar's ideas were to simply maintain the present system. Quite the contrary, Nyserio Vaenaar was known for his considerable distrust of sellswords and believed that Myr could never be a truly great or powerful city so long as it relied upon foreigners to protect it. He sought no less than the creation of a true professional army comprised of wealthy citizens and supplemented by auxiliaries recruited from among lesser families. However, this vision often ran into resistance as prominent Myrish families were hesitant to risk their sons, brothers, and nephews. Furthermore, Vaenaar believed that the Conclave of Magisters which governed Myr was inefficient and that the city should be presided over by a powerful single leader who would have the authority to make quick and effective decisions in governance with less pressing matters delegated to the Conclave of Magisters.
Imros Azaar was elected to a 5-year term as Magister in 86 AC (normally elections were held every 5 years but could be held in other years to fill unexpected vacancies) when the elderly Magister Naros Imaetis died of the flux. In a campaign that was marked by overwhelming public support and not-inconsiderable violence between supporters of rival candidates, Imros Azaar was elected in an overwhelming victory to the Council of Magisters.
Once elected, Imros Azaar began to build considerable support by exploiting the resentment of Magisters from lesser families against those with the greatest wealth. And unlike in Lys where any sort of reform was often quickly suppressed, Imros Azaar actually managed to enact his agenda and dramatically increase the popular support he possessed. But in 91 AC, when Imros Azaar announced his intention to stand for a second term as Magister (traditional political custom dictated that Magisters either temporarily retire or take up another office after their term as Magister had concluded) the Vaenaari denounced him as a tyrant and began attacking his supporters in the streets. Bloody civil war ensued but the relatively narrow ideology and support base of the Vaenaari proved to be a liability and the Azaari managed to win over the support of crucial pillars of Myrish society and drive the Vaenaari into exile after two years of bloody infighting.
The Vaenaari exiles scattered, with some of their number fleeing to Pentos and other unaligned Free Cities. But the majority of their supporters fled to the Stepstones in the hopes of establishing a base of operations from which to recapture Myr, but were in turn driven from the Stepstones by Tyrosh. From there, the Vaenaari became infamous in Westerosi history when they instead invaded the isle of Tarth, subjugating the eastern half of the isle, likely making the calculation that the Iron Throne would not act to defend such a far-flung territory. Instead, however, they were driven back by a concerted intervention by the Iron Throne, with few of their number surviving after Prince Baelon burned their ships from atop Vhagar, with the rest being hunted down to the last man.
The threat of Volantis, coupled with the fact that many able sailors and naval commanders had joined the Vaenaari, meant that reconciliation became seen as a matter of military necessity, and one year prior to the Triarchy's formation: those Vaenaari who remained in exile were formally pardoned and invited to return to Myr. Moreover, because so many of the Vaenaari had died in the invasion of Tarth, the faction's numbers were badly depleted, greatly lessening the political threat they posed to the Azaari. One of many Vaenaari in exile who accepted the offer of amnesty and returned to Myr was none other than Craghas Drahar, who would go on to be a prominent commander of the Triarchy and ultimately would be regarded as infamous in Westeros.
By the time of 131 AC, the Drahar family would still be preeminent in Myrish politics, with Nevario Drahar, who managed the Drahar estates and holdings while Craghas was away in the Stepstones, having long since replaced his long-dead brother. Nevario was considered to be a skilled politician and had married a sister of Imros Azaar, who by then had retired from politics, in order to cement his position.
Curiously, in order to better lead Myr in times of war, the staunchly Azaari-dominated Conclave of Magisters would formally create the position of Great Magister and elect Nevario Drahar to the position, as the Drahar family's past support of the Vaenaari faction was seen as having been erased by their contributions to the Triarchy. Nevario immediately set about rebuilding the Myrish fleet, seeking to regain that which was lost in the Battle of the Gullet. When news arrived of Sharako Lohar's assassination and increasingly widespread accusations that his assassination had been orchestrated by the rest of the Triarchy, it was at this point that Nevario Drahar sought to act. He immediately sent his condolences for the death of Admiral Lohar, and sent terms to Lys in which he offered Myr's assistance in finding and executing those responsible, and offered to draw down Myrish garrisons in the Disputed Lands to discourage the increasingly-volatile situation in the region.
At this point, however, the Lyseni rejected the terms. Partisans of the Lyseni side would argue that Nevario Drahar had also sent a number of demands including steep compensation for the Myrish warships lost under Admiral Lohar's command and Myrish leadership of any future fleets of the Triarchy which the proud Lyseni could never have accepted. However, Myrish authors would themselves claim that the Lyseni, incensed by false rumours of Myrish plotting, simply had no desire to negotiate.
While the particulars of that situation would never be fully known, both cities intensified their military presence in the Disputed Lands and immediately sent envoys to Tyrosh seeking alliance, each hoping to gain the advantage against the other. First Magister Drahar, for his part, began to aggressively hire sellswords, signing contracts with the Silver Shields and the Company of the Rose, among others, but also beginning to revive Nyserio Vaenaar's long-sought aim of creating a professional army. Starting with second sons, bastards, and men who had little chance of inheritance, he recruited some two hundred men and began to train them under the tutelage of the Northern sellsword, Rodrik of Whiteharbor.
Whatever else could be claimed, these developments assured that by 131 AC, the Triarchy was well and truly dead.
Unlike the other two cities of the Triarchy which had experienced dramatic political shifts in recent history, Tyrosh in its recent history had actually been under the leadership of the same ruler for a period of decades. In 189 AC, the notoriously corrupt Archon Nestohr had been removed from office and sentenced to internal exile after it was revealed that he had secretly made a deal with Myr to allow sellswords employed by Myr to occupy the strategic fortress of Dyreno in return for the safety of the Tyroshi garrison and a large bribe. Though some Tyroshi historians would argue that the Tyroshi were badly overextended and Dyreno would have fallen and its garrison either imprisoned or put to the sword, nonetheless, this act was regarded as a betrayal of Tyrosh and Archon Nestohr's popularity was already waning beforehand. Though many of Nestohr's rivals sought to execute him for treason, the Nestohr family was powerful and had a number of allies who managed to successfully argue for a more merciful alternative: Archon Nestohr would be removed from power, banished to his estates, and forbidden from ever holding office in Tyrosh again.
The man selected to replace him was a relative unknown, man of five-and-thirty by the name of Marello Maenarys. The Maenarys family was a merchant family who traditionally made their incomes through the silk trade. Once they had been counted among the richest families in the city, but disputes between the Ancient Guild of Spicers and the Tourmaline Brotherhood had disrupted the source of the silks which the Maenarys family relied upon for their wealth, thus the family had fallen on hard times and been forced to sell many of its estates. Because he hailed from a respected but economically-depressed family, the Exarchs who sat on the Conclave which elected the Archon of Tyrosh believed that Marello Maenarys would be the perfect compromise choice: a young man with few connections from a family that was respected but did not have the wealth to truly vie for power in Tyrosh. His election would not stoke the many rivalries and feuds that existed between Tyrosh's most powerful families, and would buy time to find a candidate acceptable to all, and when that candidate was found, he would step aside and allow a man of greater station to take the role of Archon.
In contrast to expectations that his rule would be mild and inoffensive, Marello Maenarys as Archon proved to be a vigourous leader. He set about to build a great fleet to assert Tyroshi power in the Narrow Sea, negotiated long-term contracts with prominent free companies such as the Ragged Standard in order to assure a stable access to military forces for the Disputed Lands. He also married Siryna Nestohr, a prominent woman of her family, in order to build an alliance but also to show that he was a man who was pragmatic and did not hold grudges. This also gave the Nestohr family a much-needed ally with which to return to Tyroshi politics, establishing the basis of a stalwart alliance between themselves and the new Archon.
However, as Archon Maenarys enacted his reforms, he also subtly began to consolidate ever more power in his own person. He appointed members of his family to a number of strategic positions and offices and began to build an impressive spy network among both local and foreign merchants whose many travels and dealings with prominent Exarchs and other key figures of Tyroshi society made them a valuable source of intelligence. He also hired gossips and rumourmongers to spread word of a plot against Tyrosh by unknown enemies from without.
In 192 AC, Archon Maenarys named three men: all important members of prominent families which had been a source of opposition to his rule, and whom he accused of conspiring to sell Tyrosh out to its enemies and install a puppet Archon who would rule on their behalf. He ordered all three men seized and put in chains. He proclaimed that such would befall all foes of Tyrosh and declared that they would be executed and their bodies cut into three pieces before the Temple of Trios as befit any who betrayed Tyrosh. The three accused men were ordered to confess their crimes. All but one did so, admitting to plotting against Tyrosh and plotting the assassination of the Archon. After earnest appeals from the families of the imprisoned, Archon Maenarys allowed the two men who had signed the confessions to be permanently banished from the city in return for a steep ransom and providing hostages. The man who refused to sign, however, was condemned as an unrepentant traitor and executed. His body was cut into thirds and left before the Temple of Trios.
This very public and calculated display inaugurated an authoritarian turn in Tyroshi politics under the leadership of Archon Maenarys. And as time went on, Maenarys' rule became steadily more autocratic in nature. The Archon of Tyrosh had always wielded considerable power, but it was expected that this power would be exercised judiciously and with the consensus of the Exarchs who elected them to their 10-year terms. However, Archon Maenarys consolidated considerable power for himself: namely by expanding the number of Exarchs in Tyrosh and appointing them with men from impoverished and indebted old families. These men who had little wealth or power of their own were dependent upon maintaining the Archon's favour for their own positions and thus reliably supported him. In the short-term, this greatly increased the Archon's power and authority, but in the long-term created massive opportunities for graft and corruption as men of such low means were extremely susceptible to bribery.
Ruling until 119 AC, Archon Maenarys had ruled for three full terms representing thirty years in power. To those who supported his rule, the era of Maenarys was a time of unprecedented stability and prosperity where Tyrosh had not only found stability at home, but power and wealth abroad. Those who opposed him denounced the corruption he had fostered and the brutality which he practised against his political opponents. Those of the lower classes as well as the city's vast enslaved population, meanwhile, had largely been ignored and brutalised by the Archon's regime and held little fondness for him.
When Archon Maenarys stepped down, this was presented as a graceful retirement of a wise and respected ruler who had served well and long and now could enjoy a well-earned retirement.
However, it did not take long for Maenarys' legacy to unravel after the end of his third term. His handpicked successor was his nephew, Endrio Maenarys, who was counted on to continue the regime. However, Endrio lacked his uncle's political acumen, and struggled to reign in his uncle's allies among the Exarchs who had become very accustomed to lavish bribes and favours to win their support. While in the process of trying to regain control over the Exarchs, Endrio abruptly died of a fever. Many at the time speculated that he had been poisoned but scholars of the era noted that Endrio had been a sickly child and had battled with poor health for much of his life, leading most historians of the period to conclude that Endrio's death was caused by illness, not by murder.
The succession of Archons who followed upon Endrio's death were generally regarded as unremarkable. From 119-124 AC, Tyrosh had three Archons: one resigned under mysterious circumstances after allegedly being kidnapped by a group of Dornish sellswords hired by his rivals, another served for three weeks before being accused of corruption by the man who succeeded him, who in 124 was deposed and executed by the Exarchs for his own widespread graft and embezzlement.
In 126 AC, with potential civil unrest looming, a group of Exarchs came to the elderly Marello Maenarys' estate in the Disputed Lands and begged him to return to power. He accepted, on the condition that he be granted sweeping powers to remove those accused of wrongdoing and otherwise remove limitations on his power as Archon, which in turn was agreed to: on the condition that he serve as Archon for no more than 5 years, retire permanently after leaving office, and choose a man unrelated to him as his successor. It was also demanded that he refrain from his past habit of executing his rivals and instead favour banishment or internal exile, reserving death only for those responsible for grave crimes. Maenarys accepted and was, once again, elected as Archon of Tyrosh.
Upon returning to power, Archon Maenarys embarked upon the largest rearrangement of Tyroshi politics in the history of the city. There were sixty-two men serving as Exarchs when he once more returned to the office of Archon, having been expanded from forty when he expanded the ranks of the Exarchs. Archon Maenarys removed over half of those in power from office and reinstituted the steep requirements for property ownership and lack of debts that he himself had repealed in the past. He also reduced the number of Exarchs to forty-five, as he claimed that forty-five was a number blessed by the Temple of Trios. Most of the Exarchs removed had either been men appointed by him in the past or who were their descendants. Correctly estimating that such men would seek retribution for such an act, Maenarys granted all of them estates in the Disputed Lands on the condition that they never hold office in Tyrosh again and provide hostages to assure good behaviour. However, by this point, Maenarys' base of support was tenuous. The constitutiencies such as impoverished nobles who had supported him were alienated by his perceived betrayal. The old families he ostensibly came from were distrustful given his past tendencies to monopolise power, and the common people had become bitter and restless over the growing instability of Tyroshi politics.
In searching for a successor, the Archon found one in the relative outsider of Daario Karaedis, a sellsail who was called Daario the Dragonscarred because of the fearsome dragonfire burns he had sustained while fighting on the Stepstones. He was the fourth son of a rich merchant and his Pentoshi wife and had made a name for himself in the Stepstones such that he was widely respected throughout the Triarchy. His naval experience, moreover, was seen as vital for expanding Tyroshi power, and that of the Triarchy as a whole. Archon Maenarys brought him back to Tyrosh and ultimately named him his designated successor. In public, Daario Karaedis upheld the image of the loyal student to the wise old tutor of the Archon. In private, however, it was rumoured that the two men had a number of disagreements over various issues. And these disagreements threatened to escalate to a public feud had it not been for the intervention of Daario's mistress, Inaria of Pentos. It was thought that Daario genuinely loved Inaria, who was a priestess sworn to Aquan, the Red Bull, a relatively minor religion in Tyrosh. It is likely for this reason that despite the love the two were known to have for one another that they never married, for Inaria regarded herself as the bride of Aquan.
In one curious twist of history, it was known that, because of his naval experience and his prominent position in Tyroshi politics, Daario Karaedis had been one of many men considered to command the Triarchy's fleet at the Battle of the Gullet, but Sharako Lohar ultimately received the command. It is thought that Imaario was so incensed by being passed over that he resigned his post in the Tyroshi fleet and refused to serve under the command of a man he regarded as a rival. This decision almost certainly saved his life and allowed him to smoothly succeed Archon Maenarys in 131 AC when, for the last time, Marello Maenarys stepped down as Archon of Tyrosh.
None yet knew what the new Archon of Tyrosh would bring, he had inherited a city riven by corruption and reeling from the collapse of the Triarchy. Both Lys and Myr sought the alliance of Tyrosh against the other... though Archon Karaedis promised that Tyrosh would always be the greatest of the Three Daughters and began an intensive process of fleet construction while aggressively recruiting sellswords to defend Tyrosh's claims in the Disputed Lands. For this purpose, Archon Karaedis turned to an old friend, Jon Greystone, a man of Westerosi and Summer Islander heritage, who led a company of sellswords known as the Bloody Banner. Tyrosh signed a contract with the Bloody Banner and renewed its contract with the Ragged Standard but also appointed Jon Greystone to preside over a wholly different venture: recruiting and training men within Tyrosh to serve as a fighting force.
Time would tell as to what fruit these plans would bear.
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With Fire and Sword: Ironborn Raids in the Riverlands and Westerlands
While the great lords and ladies feuded and quarreled in King's Landing, bringing ever closer the spectre of a renewed war throughout the Seven Kingdoms, there was war elsewhere. For on the Sunset Sea, Dalton Greyjoy and those sworn to the Lord Reaper of Pyke wreaked havoc throughout the coasts and waterways of the Sunset Sea. For the time being, their raids had primarily focused upon the Westerlands: sacking Lannisport, burning the Lannister fleet at anchor, seizing the Fair Isle, and taking the Kayce Peninsula from House Kenning who, in a curious twist of history, themselves shared the blood of the Ironborn raiders who had now seized their home and made a captive of Lady Kenning herself. With the Lannister fleet in ruins, it was said on the Iron Islands that the lion had been humbled and reminded that his mighty roar was as nothing against the crash of the waves.
At a gathering of his lords and ladies, Dalton Greyjoy proclaimed, however, that rival fleets still roved the seas and that any ship that floated on the waters was an affront to the Drowned God and that he commanded his Ironborn to scourge them from the seas with iron and blood. A Drowned Priest named Maron the Pale, for it was said that his paleness came about from his being drowned four times, wandered throughout the isle of Pyke claiming that soon the world would be inundated with a great tide brought forth from the halls of the Drowned God. All the green lands would be flooded and be as isles and then no land would be able to hide from the Ironborn. If the Ironborn reaved and plundered and lived in accordance with the Old Way, this new world would be delivered unto them.
However, the new world Maron the Pale had spoken of would have to wait, as the morrow would bring battle.
None other than Dalton's uncle, Feoron Greyjoy, would take charge of a small raiding force. Lords Wynch and Blacktyde would offer their fleets in support, but Feoron would only take a small portion of what was offered. Speed and stealth were of the essence, and besides, one Ironborn reaver was worth a score of Greenlander knights.
Feoron's raid would target the port of Seagard. The Mallisters were age-old foes of the Ironborn and many on the Isles thought it had been far too long since Seagard had been plundered and the Mallisters grown far too proud. They would need to reminded of why they ought to fear the sea. Feoron's goal was simple: to bring about the utter destruction of the nascent Mallister fleet before it could take to the seas.
Lord Manfryd Mallister, an elderly man who had outlived all his sons and nephews, ruled over Seagard. Though he was an old man, Lord Manfryd was no idle lord, nor was he frail even in his old age. Quite the contrary, he took an active role in building up the fleet while also encouraging displaced people and Northerners to settle within the Mallister lands to build new lives and new communities. He even took on a sworn shield, Robb of Barrowton, to show House Mallister's friendliness to the North.
The raid on Seagard came in the early dawn. The Ironborn had chosen their moment well: the night after the Feast of the Valiant: an annual feast celebrated in Seagard that commemorated the many Mallisters and people of Seagard who had fought to drive off the Ironborn from their shores. While it had once been a sombre day of prayer and remembrance, over time, it had become a jolly festival accompanied by puppets and mummers and cheerful plays about brave Lord Mallister and his knights beating back the vile krakens of the Iron Islands. It was also infamous for its copious alcohol consumption and, as Feoron Greyjoy himself had predicted, a considerable portion of Seagard's garrison was drunk from the previous night's revels and a not-inconsiderable number of men had quietly left their posts to go and celebrate with their friends and families, intending to return the next morning before they were missed.
The city of Seagard woke to ringing of alarm bells to signal an attack and the eerie glow of fire on the docks as the newly-constructed ships of the Mallister fleet: some finished vessels and others little more than half-finished hulls and masts, burned in the dark of the night. Lord Mallister, who had imbibed lightly and slept in his mail, burst onto the scene and began mustering as many men as he could raise while directing sailors and other locals to put out the flames before they set the whole of Seagard ablaze. Gathering what men he could, including a considerable number of Northerners, Lord Mallister feared that this was the precursor to an all-out invasion of Seagard. Lord Mallister was an old man, his heir was his grandson, a boy of five, and with his other grandson abroad in Essos, he and his grandson were the last of their line. As a result of this, Lord Mallister ordered a number of his men back to the castle to defend it, and, if necessary, to escape with his grandson.
This fear, while understandable, proved to be a miscalculation and his efforts to protect Seagard from further attack likely cost Lord Manfryd a chance to confront the Ironborn in earnest. Nonetheless, he raised what men he could and went to the docks. Many ships were already ablaze, but the docks themselves were relatively unharmed and Lord Mallister spied a number of unrecognised men gathering hay and pitch to set alight the remaining ships as well as the docks and harbours. It was said Lord Mallister fought with the fury of ten men, not wielding the longsword that might be expected of a lord or a knight but rather a mighty axe that doubtless won him the approval of the Northerners who fought by his side. He carved a bloody swathe through three reavers who stood before him and was charged by a fourth. The fighting was fierce and, while surprised, the Mallister response was nonetheless effective in mitigating further damage. But just as battle began to be joined and the people of Seagard began to ready their defenses for the landing of an invasion fleet... the Ironborn retreated.
Knowing that surprise was vital and that his small force could not withstand the full might of Seagard, Feoron Greyjoy had ordered his men back to their ships and to set sail. A small number of men stayed behind either to guard the retreat of their fellows or in the hopes that they would send Lord Mallister to the Seven Hells and in so doing win a place of glory in the halls of the Drowned God.
The nascent Mallister fleet had been ravaged: it had few ships to start with and many of those under construction had been destroyed completely or damaged beyond repair. All in all, the raid had largely accomplished its goals. The Mallister response, however, had prevented further damage to the docks or to the port of Seagard itself, and if nothing else, the people of Seagard had been violently alerted to the renewed threat of the Ironborn. As the sun rose on smouldering ruins and charred wreckage... so too did the people of Seagard resolutely go about their lives. Their sleep had ended, and now the work of rebuilding what was lost to the Ironborn would begin.
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The burning of the Mallister fleet at Seagard, however, was not the only target of Feoron Greyjoy's raiders. Having lost few men and a trifling number of ships, they proceeded immediately to their next raid, this one far closer to home.
The burning of the Lannister fleet had secured the Ironborn control over the seas of the Westerlands, but, realising that this control only lasted so long as the Westerlords could not contest their strength at sea, Dalton Greyjoy ordered a renewed attack on the Lannister fleet.
This, however, was more easily said than done. Lannisport was still rebuilding after the sack and with the city's defenses still being repaired and renewed, and it was known that the city was far too vulnerable to allow for the rebuilding of the Lannister fleet.
However, the Lannister seat of Casterly Rock had its own protected docks and shipyards, and it was here, under the watchful eye of Lady Johanna Lannister herself, that a new fleet was beginning to take shape. The docks of Casterly Rock were considered to be an extraordinary feat of engineering: possessing functional docks, shipyards, wharfs, and even a small inn and tavern carved into the rock itself to provide food and lodging for those present. Some of these facilities were quite literally encased within Casterly Rock itself: requiring passage through a narrow tunnel to access.
The various docks built into the surface of Casterly Rock, however, were on the open sea and had far less protection. It was here that Feoron planned to attack first, take control, and then send a small number of ships to set ablaze the fleet and buildings concealed within Casterly Rock. Such surroundings offered protection, but also gave no room to flee, and the chaos of smoke and fire would provide a means of escape if needed.
Once more waiting until the hour of the wolf, the Ironborn ships moved under cover of dark and quietly took control of the docks and wharves, finding them easily subdued and little-guarded but with few ships on hand. They then began to move their ships deeper into the tunnels... not yet setting alight the ships they had captured but cutting them from their moorings so that they would float adrift into the sea. Dagon Wynch, Lord Wynch's fourth son who it was said his father favoured even over his own heir, volunteered to lead the attack and be the first to set alight the Lannister ships.
As they approached, they easily dispatched the Lannister sentries and found the ships and began to approach... only to be greeted by a hail of arrows as men leapt up from new hulls and incomplete decks and began firing a storm of quarrels and arrows. Murder holes, covered by flat stone or other concealing objects, opened to reveal yet more defenders who had excellent angles to strike at their attackers. Unbeknownst to those in the tunnels, some even began to open on the concealed docks and peppered the Ironborn attackers there.
Dagon Wynch was believed to have been the first of the Ironborn to die, taking a quarrel to the heart, a second man tried to rally the attackers to press the attack, but was soon silenced by no less than three arrows all fired from different angles. Corralled by enemy projectiles from either side, and with relatively narrow room to manoeuvre, Dagon Wynch's small ship at the front was lost, as were many behind it. Only one of the five initial ships sent in made it back. Realising that his surprise attack had itself fallen victim to the same, and that to remain was surely to die, Feoron Greyjoy ordered his men back to their ships and to make for the Fair Isle. But not before setting ablaze the ships they had found outside the docks and putting the docks themselves to the torch.
They would sail the length and breadth of the Rock subsequently striking at any unprotected docks and wharfs they could find. Many of these were lesser-protected though clearly oriented more towards the support of Casterly Rock and the Lannister household than any military purpose. Regardless, Feoron sought to cause as much damage as possible before retreating and did so.
Though their attack had been largely repulsed and the small Lannister fleet under construction was left untouched, the Ironborn had not been gravely harmed by the failed attack and Feoron Greyjoy along with numerous other reavers along with him had lived to reave and pillage another day. The damage to the infrastructure of Casterly Rock itself was relatively simple to repair, but it was thought by most that such an attack was merely the calm before the storm.
Such notions were correct, in a sense, for the main strength of the Iron Fleet was not directed towards Seagard or Casterly Rock, but somewhere else altogether...
To Lord Daemion Velaryon @Madam Carstein
Hail, Lord of the Tides and Master of the Driftmark!
I offer the congratulations of the Iron Throne on your ascension to your proper seat, and it's well wishes on your reign, the Seven grant that all the missteps of your predecessor find the same outcome.
And it is of missteps that I wish to speak to you. I will not deny that I have erred, my Lord. In appointing the late Lord Corlys and then his handpicked successor as Master of Ships, I strayed far into error, and both your House and the Realm have suffered for it.
What has been done cannot be undone, I can no more call back those choices that you may call back all the years the rightful heirs to Driftmark were passed over. But if I have erred, if I have brought a serpent into the Crown's bossom, then the Seven have at least granted me the opportunity to correct it.
As I removed a turncloak Velaryon, I would set a leal Velaryon in their place. By my authority as Hand of the King, I wish to offer you the position of Master of Ships and Lord Admiral of the Royal Navy, and to begin setting right the wrongs done to House Velaryon.
My next words I write to you not as Hand of the King, but as a Lannister of Casterly Rock, given leave to broach this matter by the Lady Johanna. A Lord new come to a worthy seat will soon require both a worthy wife and an heir of his own blood to succeed him.
And so the Lady of the Rock offers the Lady Cerelle Lannister, eldest of her six children, as a match for the Lord of the Tides. My Lord...you and I have both seen much of the world, I believe that we both have experience in certain...practical matters.
Therefore I do not believe I will offend you if I remark that a daughter of Casterly Rock would bring as her bride price a substantial dowry, one that would greatly assist in restoring Spicetown and the Velaryon fleet to the glory they enjoyed before the manifold errors of the late Lord Corlys.
I merely offer this as a consideration, my Lord. Merely one factor among many that you must consider, as you weigh the attentions and attractions of the various maidens who shall surely vie for your hand.
Ser Tyland Lannister, Hand of the King, FOR Aegon of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men
You are most gracious. Mine own line has long sought our rightful place as the heirs to Driftmark, and it saddens me that my father, Ser Vaemond, may the Gods grant him rest, did not live to see the day that his son became Master of the Tides to continue this most ancient and vaunted line.
Lord Corlys was an ambitious man. I know better than most men the pain and misery that such ambitions can bring, even upon kin.
I make no secret of the fact that I and my father before me had our troubles with Lord Corlys. But whatever his faults and errors, he was a Lord of Driftmark. For a man of his station to die in such a fashion, slain in a bloody plot... such a deed shames the realm and offends the Gods. Corlys was imperfect, but he was kin and I shall not step over his body to sit on the Small Council presided over by those who had a hand in his death.
Though I believe your offers to have been made in sincere good faith, and Lady Cerelle to be a virtuous and worthy lady of her house, I must decline both the appointment and the marriage you have offered me. Even were I not bound by blood to Lord Corlys, in my position as Lord, I must also act in the best interests of Driftmark. The realm stands on the verge of war and I shall not see it dragged in once more, for House Velaryon has had more than its fill of that bitter vintage. Know that I shall not raise my swords against you, but nor shall I raise them for you.
Signed,
Daemion Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark
Maester Tywin's Abridged Guide to the Noble Domains of Westeros House Sunglass of Sweetport Isle
Historical Primer Sweetport Isle is the home and domain of House Sunglass and is located in the Blackwater, near to the western coast of Massey's Hook. It is smaller than both Driftmark and Dragonstone and is made up mostly of flat grassland or small hills.
House Sunglass have inhabited the island since it was given to the house's ancestral founder Robin the Sevenstar, for his support in Torgarion Bar Emmon's against Storm King Quarlton II. When Torgarion established the Kingdom of Sharp Point, House Sunglass became one of the small kingdom's principal vassals.
In modern times the island and its lordship are sworn to Dragonstone.
Sweetport
The biggest settlement on the island and the seat of House Sunglass, it is a small yet rich town situated at the mouth of the Sweetwater river.
This is mainly thanks to the Guild of Glassmakers of Sweetport Sound, who have their glasshouses and related buildings in the city. The guild employs a great many people and are responsible for a great deal of the wealth generated by the town. They own not only a large compound where they produce their goods, but also many warehouses, several ships and even a small orphanage from which some of its members are recruited.
On the other end of the city rests Sunglass Keep, the seat of House Sunglass. It, like the town it is located in, lies on the smaller end of castles, but is still formidable in its defence. The castle is located on a peninsula near the harbour, connected to the town via a small causeway, which is itself defended by a secondary wall. This secondary wall, named the Pentoshi Wall, is the greatest symbol of House Sunglass' old connection to the Free City of Pentos, with the wall having been constructed using the generous dowry from a marriage during the Century of Blood. The castle is also home to the Bright Tower, the town's lighthouse.
These two important locations, as well as most of the town, is connected by the Street of Aenys the Good. During the reign of Aenys I, a fire broke out and most of the town was destroyed. After news of this reached King Aenys and Lord Sunglass (who was in the capital at the time), King Aenys offered Lord Sunglass a sizable donation of gold for the reconstruction of the town. King Aenys even briefly visited the town, as a middle stop when travelling to Dragonstone once and was greeted with much fanfare and love by the smallfolk. Aenys is so far the only Targaryen king to have visited the island. It is thanks to this that the king is known as Aenys the Good among the island's population and is viewed in high regards. At the center of the main market square, there even stands a well-kept marble statue of the king, which was gifted to the town by King Aenys himself after his visit to the island.
Clearpool
A larger village located on the north side of the island, it's only noteworthy feature is it being home to the Septry of the Seven Stars. The Septry's monastic community is small yet wealthy enough to live in comfort. The Septry was founded by a religiously inclined Lord during the Century of Blood. It has a small scriptorium, but is more well known for its goat cheese and brewery. Its beer, known as "Glassmakers Pale", is popular both on Sweetport Isle and in Crackclaw point, with which the island conducts much trade.
Horn Harbour
A larger village located on the southern tip of the island. This village is located near the Middle Woods, the personal hunting grounds of House Sunglass and is home to the Hunter's Home, a smaller personal estate built by the Sunglass Lord Allard the Hunter. It is the residence of the Lord or Lady whenever they decide to go on larger hunts and is otherwise the residence of the Master of the Hunt.
