Chaos is a Ladder (A Game of Thrones RP) IC

[Britanania]

Red Keep, King's Landing.

The Lion looked down at his young grandson, a bit amused by his questions, but Tywin Lannister was not one to laugh or to smile. The last-and only-time he was seen smiling was on his wedding day. However, he would amuse Joffrey for a bit.

"The Westerlands are as productive as always, and the gold continues to flow. I would be surprised if that dog Sandor even participates in the joust, with his disdain for honour and knightly glory."

The three began to walk into the Red Keep, as Lord Tywin continued to speak.

"Cersei, does your little lion truly wish to marry a Stark?"

The Starks and the Lannisters were far from friends, for obvious reasons, but Tywin could see the potentials of having the Starks loyal to his cause. Rumours were already circulating about the Martells and their ambitions.

[Unitaristic Regions]

Laughter. It was as bad as he had feared.
When Euron gave the news of the cancelled betrothal to his Ironborn, they laughed. The Crow's Eye, so thoroughly insulted by weak southrons...
He wasn't going to let them, of course. He raised his hand.
'Silence. Or I'll have your tongues cut out of your mouth and stuck back into your shitholes.'
That shut them up. For now.

Standing up from his Seastone Chair, Euron raised his hands.
'The marriage agreement was never made official. And it was no insult, just a very stupid action from Mace Tyrell. I should never have thought Lord Oaf could keep his own against his far more cunning family.'
The Lord Reaver laughed.
'But I admit. I was a fool.'
That admission raised silence. The ironborn waited, perplexed to hear that Euron would say something like that.
'A fool to try and buy a wife! Our God will not stand for such a blasphemy, as I now know! I will pay the Iron Price now!'
Smiles started coming, now. The Lords knew what Euron was getting at.
'I will conquer cities for it, now. I will see land burn, now. I will see you men garbed in jewels payed the Iron Price for! I will raid Dorne!'
And the men shouted.
'EURON! EURON! EURON! EURON!'
Ripping his sword from its scabbard, Euron yelled: 'Ready the men! Rally the fleet! Soon, we will raid as we once did!'
'But, my lord, what about king Robert?'
'I have a feeling king Robert will soon not bother us anymore...'
Smiling slyly, Euron muttered: 'Valar Morghulis.'
And a voice behind his throne muttered: 'Valar Dohaeris. How can a man be of service?'

[Of the Quendi]

Harrenhal
On the Gods Eye, the Riverlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Lady Shella Whent

Some time after the demise of Jon Arryn

---

On the ocassion of Ser Edmure Tully's arrival to the holdfast of his lady mother some effort had been made to make Harrenhal a little less apprehensive than it usually was. The Hall of the Hundred Hearths was washed clean and each of the thirty four hearths was lit spreading light and warmth in the cavernous hall, the kitchens was well supplied with the best that the very rich holdings of House Whent could supply and a troupe of merrymaking mummers had been invited. Yet all the effort couldn't completely dispense the glum atmosphere of the castle.

Lady Shella greeted Ser Edmure and his companions at the gates to the Hall of the Hundred Hearths with salt and bread to award them guest rights. The wizened old woman looked a dwarf next to the gates into her hall, but so did Ser Edmure and his men. There where places, Lady Shella knew, like the Wall, that with their glorious enormity filled the hearts of men with awe and wonder at the greatness of the accomplishments of mankind, but Harrenhal was no such place. When men saw the Wall, the Roads of Old Valyria, the Titan of Braavos and the Triple Walls of Qarth they held their heads high in pride, in Harrenhal they where reminded of their own insignificance and mortality. "Welcome Ser Edmure." Lady Shella greeted her future liege lord, extending her salt and bread towards the heir. "Welcome to Harrenhal."

Simultaneously the guards on the thick walls of Harrenhal sighted the large entourage of Arryn knights coming down from the north. A hundred men would have looked impressive under different circumstances, but next to the holdfast of House Whent Ser Brynden and his entourage looked like a small group of little children on ponies. The guards on the walls however knew better than to allow the enormity of their fortress to blind them to the risk of letting a hundred armed men into the castle. Only when they where certain that the men where indeed knights of the Vale did they order the massive gates to their castle to be opened.

Swinging open very slowly its hinges screaming in pain the gate revealed a dark corridor leading pass the thick walls and into Harrenhal. Like a giant mouth the main gate invited the knights of the Vale to enter and be devoured by the gargantuan castle and if they where not careful be hunted by the century old curse that plagued the grim seat.

[San Monteriano]

---

Harrenhal
On the Gods Eye, The Riverlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Ser Edmure Tully

---

Edmure bowed his head in courtesy, "Thank you, Lady Shella. Your hospitality is most welcome." He took some bread and salt and eating them together, sealing the sacrosanct guest right, an almost holy right which, if broken, was said to curse the oathbreaker and his entire line for their dishonour. Edmure had no reservations that Lady Shella would uphold the guest right; from what she had heard from his father she was a friend of House Tully and loyal bannerman. He looked up at the gates of the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, being much smaller than he remembered. The hall was still gigantic in size, with the ability to entertain whole armies. Still, as a child everything looked much bigger than they did now. His party had began to dismount to take bread and salt from waiting servants to seal their own guest right, with Patrek Mallister, Lucas Blackwood and Marq Piper flanking him from the left and right, thanking Lady Shella for her hospitality as well.

"Has my uncle arrived yet?" Ed asked, peering around the lower courtyard and failing to spot any banners of the houses of the Vale, including of Arryn.

[Prince-Bishopric Of Liege]

Harrenhal, the Riverlands

As soon as the gates were open, Brynden urged his mount forward. He took several nobles of the Vale with him, but he left the majority of his men outside. Riding inside a castle, even one as big as Harrenhal, looked more like an invasion than a visit. His men fel silent as they passed through the enormous gate and once more Brynden was impressed by the vast size of the castle. In the courtyard he dismounted and was brought to the enormous Hall of Hundred Hearths.

He bowed deeply for the Lady Whent, who looked frail and old. Brynden scraped his throat. “My Lady, thank you for your courtesy and your willingness to receive my men in your castle. The Vale shall not forget this.”
He turned to Edmure and smiled. “It has been too long, nephew. It is a shame we only meet each other after such terrible tidings befall our beloved.”

[Unitaristic Regions]

Euron Greyjoy

Meeting up with his generals, Euron looked them over. His most capable general was of course, Victarion. An intelligent man, to be sure, if somewhat... Uncomplicated. Victarion would do his duty, the honorable dog. His long hair was worn in a traditional long style and he wore his plate armour. The man loved to wear armour.
However, Victarion was not who Euron had put his hopes on...
Andrik. Andrik the Unsmiling. The most formidable warrior in the Iron Isles. A beast of a man. And... He was indifferent about Euron. That was a start.
'We need a plan. A strategy,' Andrik muttered, 'We can't just go charging in.'
Victarion nodded.
'Destroy their little fleet and raid without any hampering,' He suggested.
Euron shook his head.
'Dear brother, you forget a few things. Firstly, the Westerosi lords won't like my raid. Secondly, I want Doran's daughter and I can't give her any time to escape.'
Grimacing, The Crow's Eye's "dear brother" asked: 'Then what do you want to do? Spit it out.'
'Simple. We muster the entire fleet and carry our forces to Sunspear itself. Then, we take it by surprise!'
'That will destroy any opportunity of taking the coastline by surprise!'
'It will not. For the initial attack on Sunspear, I will use the Iron Fleet. Other commanders can use the leftover troops and ships and raid the coastline.'
'How will we have enough troops?'
'Raiding will be not as efficient as it could be at first, but when Sunspear burns, we have enough troops to scatter over the southern coastline. When the Dornishmen are unable to mount any kind of counter-attack, we'll retreat.'
'We're not invading?'
'We're raiding. Nothing more than that. I have other targets on my mind for true invasion, targets the Tyrells might aid us with in coaliscion with our plans...'

Victarion nodded, as did Andrik. The Ironborn were mustering, and the course was set. It was nearly time to show the world the old ways were still followed.
'Anyways, the plans for the surprise attack on Sunspear... I still have to think up. I'll be telling you them on short notice.'

[Sherwoode]

Red Keep, King's Landing.

The Lion looked down at his young grandson, a bit amused by his questions, but Tywin Lannister was not one to laugh or to smile. The last-and only-time he was seen smiling was on his wedding day. However, he would amuse Joffrey for a bit.

"The Westerlands are as productive as always, and the gold continues to flow. I would be surprised if that dog Sandor even participates in the joust, with his disdain for honour and knightly glory."

The three began to walk into the Red Keep, as Lord Tywin continued to speak.

"Cersei, does your little lion truly wish to marry a Stark?"

The Starks and the Lannisters were far from friends, for obvious reasons, but Tywin could see the potentials of having the Starks loyal to his cause. Rumours were already circulating about the Martells and their ambitions.

King's Landing
The Red Keep

Crown Prince Joffery Baratheon
First of His Name, Heir to the Iron Throne

"Uncle, I mearly wish to know where my ties stand. I gain Casterly Rosk, and the Seven Kingdoms above all. And as for the Stark girl...." Joffery shrugged. He had his fancies now and then, but he had never really seen her, so he couldn't say he loved her. Yet, he knew the ways to keep a woman on her feet, and he knew how to treat a lady in her own right. He was brought up and learn enough of that.

"Grandfather, the wolves are coming, and I must do what I must." He shrugged again, not particularly careful of what he was saying or doing. He would be King soon enough. He didn't need to trifle with such matters as of yet.

"And," he put in. "the Hound will join in the joust if I have anything to say about it. He's my Hound, and my subject first, so he must obey me, must he not?"

[Of the Quendi]

Harrenhal
On the Gods Eye, the Riverlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Lady Shella Whent

Some time after the demise of Jon Arryn

---

Handing out her salt and bread like a good hostess to her nephews bannermen Lady Shella pondered the hospitality of her forebears. Lady Shella was quite certain that some of the previous occupants of Harrenhal would have cared little for guest rights if they desired to slay a guest. But fortunately that was one shame that had yet to stain the dreaded holdfast, even her own Lothston ancestors, who had not been the kindest of people, had not committed a crime so infamous.

After having given out her salt and bread to the last of the Tully men offering her welcome Lady Shella answered her nephew. "Ser Blackfish was not a league behind you nephew, already he is at my walls." Lady Shella proclaimed gesturing towards the gatehouse high high above them. "You and your men can await him here in the courtyard with me, or in the hall as you pleases, I fear that the cold is the same either way, but my hall has ale." Lady Shella proclaimed gesturing for a serving wench to bring more salt and bread.

Shortly thereafter the Blackfish rode into Harrenhal, seemingly ridding Ser Edmure of the choice. Extending her salt and bread once more towards the knight. "You are most welcome here Ser Blackfish." Lady Shella spoke noticing that the amount of men her guards had counted did not seem to match the number that had entered her courtyard. Recognizing the gesture Lady Shella none the less thought it superfluous. "So are all your men good ser. They tell me you are a clever man Ser Blackfish, and clever men do not seek to conquer Harrenhal." The old woman spoke with a chuckle, waving a frail trembling hand towards the men beyond the gates.

[San Monteriano]

---

Harrenhal
On the Gods Eye, The Riverlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Ser Edmure Tully

---

Despite his choice being extinguished a few moments later, Edmure was nevertheless grateful for Lady Shella's options, bowing his head as a thanks. His uncle, the bold 'Blackfish' as he called himself, had arrived. He had received the nickname after Edmure's father had called him the "black goat of the Tully herd", after which Brynden had used the moniker Blackfish as the Tully sigil was a trout; he even had his own personal arms displaying a black trout instead of silver. "It has been, uncle. I hope you are well, Jon Arryn was a great man, no doubt. My father will miss him..." He replied, his thought track briefly wondering off to his father. "And Lysa, how is Lysa? I have heard rumours, vicious rumours, that she has descended into madness since Lord Jon's death, is it so?" He asked, worried about the health of his older sister. Lysa had always been 'touched', according to those who knew her better, but never insane.

[Of the Quendi]

Highgarden
On the River Mander, the Reach
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Willas Tyrell

A fortnight and some days after the meeting in the Prince's Pass

Reading had been a passion of Willas's ever since he had had his leg crushed by his horse in that fateful tourney where he had, at too young an age, broken lances with Oberyn Martell. In Highgarden, the seat of chivalry and the mythos of the true knight, as the oldest son of a line of great knights, many would have despaired to be such crippled. Not Willas. When his childhood dream to become the greatest knight of the Realm had been shattered he had found in scholarly studies a new one and as time had passed Willas had come to look the quill more than he had ever loved the lance and the book more than he ever loved the sword, why it was no surprise that Willas was reading when the raven came from the Iron Islands.

But the time when the heir to Highgarden could occupy himself with ancient tomes of the Citadels was long gone. With Garlan organizing the massive defense of the coast from Oldtown on Willas's orders and with their Lord Father having largely retreated to lick his wounds upon his humiliating defeat on the matter of Margaery's marriage it fell to Willas to bid over the Lords of the Reach. From his desk letters to the Lords of the Shield Islands, Lord Leyton Hightower, Lord Paxter Redwyne, Garlan and all the other bannermen that had been called upon for the defense of the coast. Commanding the Reach a long time went by before Willas's grandmother came by to inform him of the misfortunate news that had arrived from the Iron Islands

Lady Olenna, escorted by a pair of Margaery's handmaidens, Alla and Elinor, was not one to beat around the bush and she offered no courtesies before raring against her son, Lord Oaf. "The madman replies, grandson. A reply that would have made King Scab proud. The raider lord wishes to attack Dorne and abduct the Princess Arianna." Olenna spoke, shaking her head in disbelief the moment the two giggly Tyrell girls had left. Willas paled, almost jumping from his seat despite his maimed leg. "A thing that surely My Lord Father would not dream of supporting?" Willas in an almost pleading tone asked.

Shaking her head with an angry snort Lady Olenna replied; "You would think he knew better than to do anything but wouldn't you?" Said the Queen of Thorns. "But somehow our Lord Oaf has gotten it into his foolish head that his honor requires of him to make it up to the pirate for shaming him. So now my genius son will get House Tyrell embroiled into some silly conflict between a madman and House Martell. A folly it is, a great folly." Olenna sighed shaking her head. "I should have spanked your father more often when he was a child."

Willas couldn't believe it. His father had made many an unsound decision and he had never forgiven the Martell's for Willas's infirmity but to support the abduction of Princess Arianna was not something Willas would have ever thought his father capable of. Often enough Willas had thought to propose marriage to Arianna to reconcile Dorne and the Reach, and had it not been for his infirmity he would have. Was he now to stand idly by while the poor girl was abducted by a barbarian like Euron Crow's Eye with Tyrell support? It would destroy every chance at reconciliation for a century or more to come.

Looking at his grandmother Willas shook his head in shock. "We cannot allow this to happen." He insisted.

To Euron Greyjoy, acting Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands,

My Lord,

If you deem it so significant to raid the shores of Dorne and plunder the riches of Sunspear then House Tyrell, in recognition of our alliance, will not oppose it and take no steps to prevent an Ironborn assault on Dorne. I however find it a futile and pointless endeavor that will do nought to secure the independency of the Iron Islands or the ascendance of the Reach but only breed contempt and hatred between prospective allies.

But alas, I see that this point is beyond my control. Very well then. Harry raider and seize what you wish, the Reach shall offer no impediment and provide no support for the Dornish. But speak plainly of your secret plans, I care not to guess them, and require certainty if House Tyrell is to act in these matters.

In the light of the Seven
Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South

[Unitaristic Regions]

Euron, 'The Crow's Eye' Greyjoy

To Euron Greyjoy, acting Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands,

My Lord,

If you deem it so significant to raid the shores of Dorne and plunder the riches of Sunspear then House Tyrell, in recognition of our alliance, will not oppose it and take no steps to prevent an Ironborn assault on Dorne. I however find it a futile and pointless endeavor that will do nought to secure the independency of the Iron Islands or the ascendance of the Reach but only breed contempt and hatred between prospective allies.

But alas, I see that this point is beyond my control. Very well then. Harry raider and seize what you wish, the Reach shall offer no impediment and provide no support for the Dornish. But speak plainly of your secret plans, I care not to guess them, and require certainty if House Tyrell is to act in these matters.

In the light of the Seven
Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South

Interesting, really. Mace really was an ambitious one. But Euron didn't completely trust the entire situation.
'You must watch out, my lord,' The wizened warlock he had abducted from Qarth croaked in his ear, 'Mace Tyrell is easily swayed, I have seen it... Your little alliance is easily destroyed if his family disrupts it...'
Tapping his fingers against the Seastone's Chair's armrests, he thought for a little while. This had to be resolved very... Carefully. He couldn't let Mace Tyrell's far wiser family disrupt his plans. Well, only one thing to do.

To Lord Paramount Mace Tyrell of the Reach

My Lord,

I understand the difficulty of your decision. Your culture does not endorse my plans. Therefore, allow me to calm any fears you might have.
This raid is born out of necessity, not impulse, as I explained earlier. If you support it, you have my word that no more raids will follow if I am able to abduct the woman I want to abduct.
Furthermore, I am indebted by you after this. After this, all my efforts will be directed to the cause we drafted our alliance for, and nothing else, unless if it is in defense.
I would like to point out to you that some members of your family might not share your wisdom regarding this matter, and want you to be led by 'principles.' I expect the worst, really. My advisors tell me your son Willas even proposed to Arianne before this all happened!
Therefore, I would us two to act first. Some small measures, like locking off raven nests and such. I know this will weigh heavily on your heart, but it's better to get the whole nasty business over with now than have your family ruin our alliance. If this comes over as insulting, I apologize. The question is: do you think your family would foil this? Would you let them?
A harsh dilemma, I am sure, but I assure you that the end justifies the means. Surely, protecting this alliance with some small measures like the aforementioned is worth it?

Once more apologizing I leave you with these questions and continue to describe my plans.
I am a drinker of a liquid called shade of the evening. An interesting drink: it allows me to see truths already laid before my eyes.
To put it this way: Using the liquid I was able to tie some interesting facts, rumors and advises together and came to some interesting truths about prince Joffrey.
It sounds... Shady, I know, but it is of little consequence. I'm sure you've heard about what shade of the evening does.
I have come to the conclusion that when Robert dies, the realm will bleed. How, I know not, but the markings and pointings are everywhere. Chaos? Yes. Opportunities? Everywhere. Truths are everywhere.
To sum it all up: there will be room for war. If you'd like to discuss my war plans... We should plan another meeting... On Arbor Island, mayhaps? My fleet will pass there on the way to Dorne.


My Lord, I would like to implore you one last time: do not let your family ruin this. If Arianne escapes, all will have been for naught. If the Dornish are forewarned and have garrisoned Sunspear, I can't even take the city.

And if something like this happens, I will know why. You will know why. And what could have been something will shatter.

Regards,

Euron Greyjoy, Acting Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, Lord Reaper of Pyke.

It was ridiculous. The entire alliance depended on him holding influence over Mace, using his ambition and idiocracy...
'Teach me more of the black arts,' Euron commanded the warlock.
If anything, I'll need magic. It's the only thing that will allow me to be more cunning than my enemies, be one step ahead of them...

OOC: I need to fill in Euron's magical powers, methinks.

[Prince-Bishopric Of Liege]

Harrenhal, Riverlands

Brynden sighed relieved. “Once more, I am most grateful my lady. And I should indeed not dare to raise my hands against the occupants of Harrenhal.” He beckoned a young man, probably a Waynwood or a Grafton. “Fetch the rest. Make sure they behave.” With that arranged he turned his eyes back to his nephew. “Jon will be missed by most, I fear. There is no doubt Lord Stark is a worthy successor, yet I do not know whether he has an appetite for politics.”

He moved a little closer and took his nephews elbow, dragging him slowly a bit from the rest of the group, until only lady Whent could possibly still hear them. He thought it unpolite to leave her out. He then continued in a whispering voice. “Lysa is… different. She never really loved her husband, but lately she is more active than ever before. She has undertaken measures to eradicate the troublesome mountain clans and to strengthen several defenses. She has her suspicions that…” He looked around and turned back to Lady Whent. “My lady, my men and I are tired. Is there a possibility that they can be rested so that we can discuss certain things in a more…secluded space?”

[United Socialist Republics of Lupina]

Prince Doran Martell
The Gardens, Dorne

A Fortnight after the meeting at the Tower of Joy

---

Doran sat silently and listened carefully as his brother relayed to him the intriguing proposal the Ironborn Lord Paramount had been so eager to speak with the likes of Dornishmen in secret. Greyjoy's plan's were a jest, almost enough to make Doran want to laugh. An alliance between Ironborn, Tyrell's and Martell's...now that was truly the greatest Ironborn blunder since Balon had tried the crown upon his own head in defiance of Robert. Had the Greyjoy's forgotten their last folly against the Usurper? Had the man gone mad? Certainly only a fool would follow in Balon's footsteps and dare to bring the likes of Tyrell and Martell alongside him.

It pleased Doran to hear Mace Tyrell was still the great oaf he always was, an alliance between Highgarden and Pyke would be the last thing in the world the old Lady Olenna would dare allow, she'd likely accept Oberyn into her granddaughter's bed than give Margaery to the likes of the Ironborn.

Finally, Oberyn finished speaking, awaiting his response to this news. Oberyn, of course, sounded overly supportive of the plot; mayhap not for the alliance as a whole but he was the kind of man who would likely have sold his soul to the gods and slain half the kingdom for the chance to avenge his sister.

"No brother, we will not join in this folly." Doran stated simply, receiving a cold stare from his younger brother. "Tyrell may be foolish enough to give away his daughter, but the rest of them possess greater wits and stronger prides. The Lady Olenna will not allow such an alliance to occur, which means the Ironborn will look to Dorne for their new Queen and I will not give my Arianna to a fool, let alone a Greyjoy. They cannot be trusted, they care only for plunder; whilst the Tyrell's hold the greatest armies in the Seven Kingdoms right next to the Red Mountains and they have no more love for Dorne than the Greyjoy's." Doran locked his hands together.

"Besides that, the Usurper will not simply sit on the Iron Throne and watch as his kingdom is ravaged by Pyke and Highgarden. He will march on Highgarden and Pyke as soon as Varys hears whispers of their plans. Also, have you not heard of the Hand's death? Stark has been named Jon's successor and he holds no remorse to the likes of oathbreakers." He sacked Pyke once before, he can do it again.

"With the North on his side, Robert holds a dagger at their throat and the Royal Fleet as his shield, while Lion's and Stag's pick apart Highgarden. I tell you this plot has no chance of succeeding and we would do best to stay out of it."

"However, we can try to maneuver these series of events into our favor." Doran noted, "Tyrell wouldn't be foolish enough to give up his defenses along the passes but should he call his banners to march against the likes of Lannister and Baratheon, he could not afford to march against Dorne nor could he stand a Dornish spear marching towards Highgarden. Robert would be pleased with our choice of allies and would mayhaps be more open to justice for Elia, and with Stark at his side; our cause will only be furthered, Robert will be swayed and the Lion will lose its claws."

[Of the Quendi]

Highgarden
On the River Mander, the Reach
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Willas Tyrell

A fortnight and several days after the meeting in the Prince's Pass

Willas was strolling with his grandmother through the groves of fair Highgarden as the pair had made a habit ever since having increased their control over the Reach. They made for a queer sight; the tall and quite handsome youth with the broken leg clinging to his crutch and the small and wizened crone resting on her cane. They ruled the Reach yet neither was able to walk unassisted. We are a jape waiting to be spoke, Willas thought.

But things of import required their attention. "Does the audacity of this pirate know no bounds I ask you?" Olenna declared, waving her cane as in a threat against the Crow's Eye. "This addict and kinslayer presume to lecture our Lord Oaf on family matters. One shivers at the thought of what mischievous vices Mace could learn from this madman, no we will not have them meet again." Lady Olenna spoke. "No we will not." Willas echoed in agreement. "Nor will we have Ironborn ships anchor at the Arbor before their vile assault. If we cannot stop the Crow's Eye then we must at least appear to be innocent of the crime. We cannot afford to be embroiled in a border conflict with Dorne, and nor will I tolerate old resentment and hatred to resurface." Willas agreed, guiding his grandmother towards a bench.

The two less than mobile leaders got seated while Olenna voiced her agreement. "That is good thinking Willas, it is such a relief to me that at least someone in the family takes after me and not my husband and son. Highgarden has no need of a Lord Oaf the Third of his Name." Willas smirked a bit at his grandmother's sharp tongue before remembering the seriousness of the matter. "Fortunately My Lord Father in this feels likewise. He will not halt the Ironborn attack but I have convinced him that he cannot go to the Arbor just now. You must convince him that Paxter won't suffer Ironborn ships anchoring at the Arbor." said Willas.

Lady Olenna nodded. "Paxter won't suffer it. He can be something of an oaf himself sometimes but in this he can hardly be blamed for stubbornness, when, I ask you, has something good ever come from the Iron Islands?" The Queen of Thorns spoke. Willas shrugged, finding it difficult to argue against that statement. "I should hope my wife will be the first then." He jested, a tad nervous at the prospect. That prompted a disproportional amount of laughter from his grandmother. "Just when I think you were bright my dear boy you play the fool." She sighed as her laughter receded. "Do you truly think that I will permit the heir to Highgarden to marry some exiled Greyjoy heir? What, tell me that, would be accomplished by such a match? The Reaver has already shown what family means to him. No I will have none of this Greyjoy match." Olenna declared.

Willas was a little relieved at his grandmother's words but also concerned. "Surely we must ..." He began, being quickly cut short by Lady Olenna's raised hand. "Must? I have never much cared for that boring word. You read the Pirate's latest letter Willas; that man has become your enemy, and mine too, and knowing his reputation I have no doubt that he will prove as dangerous and treacherous a foe as he would an ally. You and I must plot to preserve ourselves against the wickedness of the Greyjoys. I have already forged a letter in Lord Oaf's name to a potential friend but now we must take further steps. Listen." Olenna spoke, marveling Willas, before explaining her plans.

To Euron Greyjoy, acting Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands,

My Lord,

I have no need to be counseled on how best to deal with my family and I would appreciate it if Your Lordship would refrain from offering advice not asked for on this matter.

Seeing as I have only just returned to Highgarden I cannot already undertake yet another journey that will bring me away from my seat for a month and as such must decline meeting Your Lordship on the Arbor. Furthermore I implore Your Lordship not to anchor at the island on your way to Sunspear. Not only will my bannermen the Redwynes not take kindly to such a presence but more importantly the sighting of an Ironborn fleet on the Arbor can be kept a secret from no one, and certainly not the Martell's why, in the interest of preserving the secrecy of Your Lordship's raid, I cannot have Ironborn forces anchor up anywhere in the Reach.

Further I have agreed to support this raid not because I believe it justified our sagacious but in order to preserve our alliance. I shall live up to my obligations and support the raid but I will that it shall remain unknown to House Martell that House Tyrell will play any part in their misfortune and downfall. This is my sole condition for supporting an aim that I never agreed to when we joined forces and I expect Your Lordship to honor it, or I will know why.

Send me your plans in writing My Lord Greyjoy, I am eager to learn of them and will not suffer being kept in the dark about these matters, and once you have raided Dorne perhaps we may find an appropriate time and place to meet for discussions about the future of our alliance.

In the light of the Seven
Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South

To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,

My Lord,

At a time when the Realm weeps for the passing of a great Hand of the King, a man I knew to be close to Your Lordship, most Lords of Westeros has been seemingly oblivious to the demise of another, far less admirable lord. Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands and Lord Reaper of Pyke was a traitor and a craven both, yet he was a lord of a long and illustrious line.

Yet upon his passing his great seat of Pyke which should have rightfully been given to Your Lordship's ward, Theon Greyjoy, was usurped by a man who in all things was worse. For Balon Greyjoy did not die peacefully in his bed, no he was murdered by his own brother. Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy, a vile kinslayer of whom no men can speak any good, now rules over the Iron Islands and woes are sure to follow his rule.

I therefore implore Your Lordship, speak to the King, whose confidence you have always enjoyed, and to your ward, who is now by all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms the Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, convince them not to ignore this breach of the law and then give to Lord Theon Greyjoy the assistance he requires and deserves to claim his rightful property.

In the light of the Seven
Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South

---

Harrenhal
On the Gods Eye, the Riverlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Lady Shella Whent

Some time after the demise of Jon Arryn

---

With a morbid chuckle Lady Shella gestured towards the empty ruined towers surrounding her in response to the Blackfish's question. "If you require privacy Ser Blackfish you have come to the right place. In most of my castle you will be entirely alone, except perhaps from ghosts, but fortunately they are for the most part quiet and rather discreet." The crone spoke before summoning her servants to tend to the knights of the Vale.

As Harra and Weese began organizing the necessities required to receive a hundred guests Lady Shella listed to the conversation of the Blackfish and her nephew. Tully. Arryn. It seemed both men would have preferred to converse privately without her and as Lady Shella could owe them that she grabbed hold of a serving wench passing her by. "If you seek to speak in private you are welcome to do so in my solar. The ghosts there are all sworn to House Tully and is as trustworthy as any. Pia here will show you the way, you may join me and your men in the hall afterwards." Lady Shella said, pushing the pretty buttery maid towards the two men.

[Unitaristic Regions]

Euron, 'The Crow's Eye', Greyjoy

Mace would not meet them. They would not dock at the arbor.
Could this alliance stand? Such a question... Where were the Faceless Men when you needed them?
The Drowned God knows I have come to rely on them...
And so, the Iron Fleet left the Iron Islands, supported by the rest of the fleet, carrying the complete Ironborn army. Euron's plan was quite simple, actually.
After a long time of planning and thinking, he had drawn a very simple conclusion. He was subject to the King's Peace, Raiding was punishable by death.
As such, Sunspear would have to be obliterated. If there were no witnesses, there was no proof. And if there was no proof... Robert could hardly declare war when he wanted to hold a tourney without proof, the fat fuck.

http://i1323.photobucket.com/albums/u596/siempie78/85597652-4ed2-4f7e-948e-c50bd3e99773_zps7dd4dc1c.jpg

The Dornish greatest strength was also their greatest weakness. That desert of theirs, it didn't allow for population in the desert. The Ironborn, lightly armored, could invade around Sunspear and enclose it in a ring of steel, or better, Iron very quickly while the main Ironborn forces launched into the city itself. Then, well... Sunspear's population would meet a very... Shameful end.
Of course, men with bows would have to be posted to shoot down fleeing ravens, and such, but Euron had warlocks for that as well.
The Ironborn had complained a little when Euron told them the plan. A little. He set them before the choice: you can exterminate, or not raid at all, and they chose the former. So, the people were once more behind their Lord Paramount on this little Reave.
Of course, some Martells might survive, outside of the city. Didn't matter. What where they going to say?
'The Ironborn came and slaughtered all within the city!'
Euron would simply say: 'What motive did I have to destroy a city? What proof do you have? Why Sunspear, and not some other realm?'
There was no proof. None at all.
The Tyrells wouldn't be told anything. They would hear what had happened. And they wouldn't tell anything. What would they tell?
'The Ironborn destroyed the city!'
'How do you know?'
'Because we... Agreed to keep silent about it.'
Sometimes, Euron loved being a ruthless bastard. Having no morals was just so... Freeing.
And so, the fleet silently set sail for Dorne, keeping well away from any coasts, taking care not to be seen. For the world, it had to look like Euron was still at the Iron Islands...


OOC: And so it begins...

[Prince-Bishopric Of Liege]

The Eyrie, The Vale

Lady Lysa was seated at her desk when maester Colemon entered. The room bathed in the light of numerous candles. Colemon remarked that Lysa had taken to use a lorgnette lately, since her eyes had always been weak. The Lady of the Vale turned when he entered. “You ought to be asleep, my lady.” Lysa shook her head and flipped some papers. “Work has to be done. I’ve seen your plans for the strengthening of the waycastles, especially the removal of most flammable parts. See to it that these plans are carried out as soon as possible.”

Colemon nodded and waited. After a while Lysa turned again and asked: “You came to tell me something?”

“Yes. There have been troublesome…rumours.” The maester replied. Lysa rolled her eyes and gestured him to move along. A bit irritated, the maester blurted out: “The Reach have called their banners. And the Ironborn are mustering.”

Lysa dropped the papers she had been holding. She panted heavily and her wide, blue eyes filled themselves with tears. For a moment Colemon was overwhelmed by her reaction. The fear made Lysa seem years younger and oddly attractive. He had to urge to step forward and to lay his hand on her shoulders, to tell her not to worry. But the Lady of the Vale blew her nose and started pacing the room.

“I am so sorry. I’ve not had much support lately and I hoped certain events could be averted. Jon was wrong and Petyr was right in the end. By the Seven, I wish he was here. I miss him so. Petyr always knew what to do.”

Colemon was a little surprised by this, but he let it pass. It was not abnormal for a widow to seek consolation by old friends.

Lysa wiped her face again. “It is of no use. We must find our own inner strength.” She pulled the maester over the a chair and pushed him down whilst she dropped herself unceremoniously on her bed. “Maesters always value logical thinking, no? Perhaps it is time I had some practice.”

Colemon leaned back and waited.

“The Reach is mustering, hmm? That can mean all sort of things. Perhaps they have trouble with Dorne?” “Not that we know” the maester replied. Lysa nodded. “If we assume the worst possible scenario, the Reach wages war against the Vale. That means they have to march their enormous army throughout half Westeros before they are here. We will hold them here at the Bloody Gates, where their numerical superiority means nothing.” Lysa stared at the ceiling

“Should they come by sea, we can hardly oppose their landing, but they will have to face the might of the Vale in several protracted sieges and ambushes. We will still hold the advantage that we know the terrain. Besides, open war between Houses will not be tolerated by the Iron Throne. And the Tyrells are no fools, nor did House Arryn ever insulted them. I don’t think we will have to face the might of Highgarden in the field very soon.”

Colemon smiled. “That, my lady, are exactly my thoughts.” Lysa smiled, but her expression clouded in minutes. “That leaves the Ironborn. Euron is a ruthless bastard. But surely they have no motive to attack the Vale?”

“And since when, my lady, did the Ironborn ever require a motive?” asked maester Colemon. The thought unnerved Lysa. “True, but if they want to attack the Vale they have to sail south before turning at the Arbor and going back up again. Not very efficient, it seems to me. But if they attack Gulltown, we scarcely have enough ships to obliterate them, I fear. I am however fairly confident we could beat the Iron man in every land battle.”

“They won’t give us the occasion, my lady. The Ironborn raid but they do not conquer. They will sack Gulltown or the Three Sisters but they will not draw further inland.” Lysa nodded thoughtfully. “What you are trying to say is that we cannot oppose them at sea, but they probably can’t match us on land?”

Colemon nodded. “Well, since there is nothing we can do, then there is nothing I shall do.” Lysa stated bluntly. “If the Ironborn come, we try to fend them off with what forces we have at our disposal, then we strike back with all our forces we have mustered in the meantime. Perhaps my brother or the Starks would even help me.”

Colemon shrugged. “I fear your ladyship is right. But it cannot come that far. If the Ironborn lift one finger towards another House, the whole of Westeros will side against them. The Royal Fleet and the Arbor’s galleys will make short work of the Iron Fleet whilst others will take the war to the Iron Islands. King Robert has done that before and he will do it again.”

Lysa eyed the maester darkly. “Robert won’t last a fortnight longer if I am right. Get some sleep Colemon. I’d rather have you awake and lucid by the morning.” And with that the maester left the solar of Lysa Arryn, highly puzzled by the last remark.

[Unitaristic Regions]

OOC: I'm basing this part of the assumption that Sunspear is allowed to be sacked, not exterminated... As always, if the godmod is too strong, just call me out on it .

Euron 'Crow's Eye' Greyjoy

Coast of Sunspear

'Valar morghulis,' Euron muttered, 'Valar morghulis. Valar Morghulis...'
When would he finally hear the news about Robert's 'accident'. The Faceless Men were faster than this...
Damn. When would Robert DIE!
Unconsciously snarling, Euron walked to the front of the Silence. There, Andrik waited.
'My king.'
'Andrik. Have we been spotted?'
'Not that I know off. Of course, once we enter the bay, it'll be impossible not to see us. Anyways, it appears the Dornishmen have become more vigilant since the Reach called its banners.'
Even when it's not intentional, Lord Oaf ruins everything.
Throwing his hands in the air, Euron said: 'We'll just have to hope Robert drops dead before he can punish us.'
Andrik merely shrugged. Any fight was a good fight for him.
The longships silently drifted into the harbour. Licking his blue lips in anticipation, Euron said: 'I'm calling off the extermination. It won't do for Robert to hear we killed off an entire city if he's hearing it anyways. Now let's get this on with. I've waited for a long time...'
The shouting started when the first longships were near the first Dornish ships. Dornish shouts and warnings, to be sure...
'Enter the city. Kill some men, rape some women. Leave the royal family intact. Especially their princess.'
With a thud, the first longships hit the front of the harbour's docks. Shouting hungrily, Euron's men jumped of their crafts and ran into the city, carrying their traditional weapons. His heart beginning to thump harder, in anticipation of the slaughter, Euron jumped off the Silence, next to Andrik. The huge warrior let out a mighty war cry, then disappeared. Euron himself rallied his mutes and charged for the inner city.
The raider knew he would not find Doran himself here, or the chance was at least small... The man spent his time in another place, full of water, it was rumored. It mattered little. Taking his family would allow for a mighty bargaining chip. Or ensure Euron's destruction if the damned Robert didn't just die...
Well, the gamble had been taken, best to enjoy the sack while he still could.
And it was a sight to behold... Screaming women, crying children, shouting men... The price of spurning his kind offer, surely.
A man jumped out of the inn next to him, spear in hand. Dodging it with ease, Euron twisted around the weapon and hacked the man's head in two with his sword. While the man's lifeless body flopped to the ground, Euron gave the skies a mad grin. This was what he had been made for. This was what he did.
Even if this raid is the end of the me... I'll die a happy man.

OOC: Obviously, no one except for the Dornish player can know about this raid happening.

Go get 'em boy!

[Machtergreifung]

Red Keep, King's Landing

Robert Baratheon was growing somewhat concerned. It had been many days without word from Eddard, and the realm was without a Hand to guide it. The result was that more and more of the duties normally defered to the Hand were being redirected to Robert, and the result of that was that he was drinking more and more.

As he made his way to the throne room, as on occasion he was forced to do so, he had a thirst. Sending one of the innumberable squires that served the King, both as manservets and as hostages for their parents loyalty, to fetch some more Arbor gold. Robert misliked sitting the throne, as uncomfortable a chair as any. The throne room itself did nothing to please Robert either, with it's memories of the Mad King's blood and two children wrapped in crimson rags.

The squire returned just before Robert entered the throne-room, with Barristan Selmy and Trant behind him in their traditional roles. Draining it with one long gulp, he sent the squire, who's face Robert did not recall, to fetch another, and entered into the throne room.

By the time Robert reached the steps to the throne he was half dead. By the time his huge body collapsed on the dias, all life had fled from him.

The King was dead, and the squire was nowhere in sight.

[Britanania]

Throne Room, Red Keep

The Kingsguard looked in horror as the King perished before their very eyes. For all they knew, Robert was in excellent health. Yes, he had grown rotund in recent years and was a heavy drinker, but he still hunted with ease and jousted. There was nothing to give indication of his death.

The Throne Room was now in a frantic chaos as maesters and septons attempted to bring the King's body to his room.


Red Keep, King's Landing

Tywin Lannister was about to respond to his grandson when his son Jaime rushed to them, a disturbed look on his face.

"Jaime, what is it?" Tywin demanded. Jaime was not easily excited, and he knew better than to rush upon his own Father with nary a greeting.

"Grave news, Father. The King has died."

[United Socialist Republics of Lupina]

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Prince Oberyn Martell, The Red Viper
Sunspear, Dorne

A Fortnight after the meeting at the Tower of Joy

---

Oberyn laid beside Ellaria as she slept soundly after she'd satisfied his needs for the time being.

It had been a few days since last he'd met his brother in the Gardens; Oberyn wasn't at all pleased with what his brother had to say, but he was the head of the family and ruled Dorne to his manner and not to Oberyn's. Well, Doran had been right of course, the plot had no chance of success so long as Robert sat upon the Iron Throne and with Stark at his side there would be no more chance for victory than would the return of the Targaryen's. Besides, Stark was a man of honor and was close friends with Robert, he would champion their cause for vengeance upon the likes of Clegane. Doran had indeed been right, things could very well be played into their favor.

There was a sudden rasping at the door, the voice of Maester Myles voice called for him franticly. The door opened to the appearance of Ser Manfrey, the Castellan of Sunspear bore a grave look upon his face in comparison to Myles shock and despair.

"What is it?" Oberyn asked.

"We're under attack milord."

---

There was little Oberyn could do for the small folk; the garrison could hold back the attacker's only for so long and all the family members as well as members of court had to be run out as fast as possible before they were overtaken. Oberyn led a small company of bodyguards towards the heart of the fighting; for no reason other than to give the foe a taste of the blade of his spear. Manfrey had tried to stop him, but no man would stop the Red Viper from running into a fight.

He charged at a man wielding an axe, Oberyn stabbed at the man's neck a gave the man a rose to clutch at whilst he fell. He stabbed another man in the chest whilst his horse trampled a third. The Prince of Dorne gazed out upon the ships in the bay, they were the Ironborn. Damn him. Oberyn thought, "Damn that ironborn bastard! May the Seven take him before I do!" he shouted as he ran down another ironborn.

[Tyben]

Ser Barristan Selmy, Commander of the King's Guard

Ser Barristan instantly got the feeling something bad was happening as he saw his king walk up the steps sluggishly, more so than normal. He walked swiftly towards the king, but alas he did not reach the king in time to prevent him from falling down.

As the king fell, Ser Barristan yelled with authority and rage, "Form up around his majesty!" Quickly, he rushed to the king, lifting his large body up, cradling the dead king's head in his arms and checking his pulse. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he realized the man's pulse, and breath, were gone.

"He is dead."

All the members of the King's Guard were shocked and frightened at this revelation, they had not been able to save their king, they had just watched him die and they were able to do nothing to save him. They had been useless.

Ser Barristan's voice quivered as he spoke, "Go find Maester Aemon send him here with some men to carry the body away, and send squires to inform the Queen and the prince, bring them here immediately, DO NOT let anyone but the King's Guard to touch or near them until they get to this room, I don't care if you have to send bloody Tywin Lannister away.

Ser Barristan rested the king's head on the dais, he crossed his liege's arms across his chest and closed his eye lids. Swiftly, he stalked out of the throne room, leaving the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, to inform the prince and his sister, Queen Cersei, he had to find the squire who had brought the ale to the king, the one who was not familiar to him.

Stalking through the corridor, he looked for the Faceless Man. He drew his sword and walked out of the door of the Red Keep, the door from which he saw the squire exit, and looked out into the court yard, looking for the assassin.

[Unitaristic Regions]

Euron 'Crow's Eye' Greyjoy

A man ran for him, but Euron hacked his spear in two, laughing at him. Then, he chopped off his arm just to see him scream, after which he finished the Dornishman off.
The sacking had gone as expected. A garrison could not withstand an army.
In any case, it wasn't good to gloat in victory right now. This might be a sacking already ensured of its success, but the Dornish fought for their city, and they didn't mean for Euron to catch their court...
However, the Crow's Eye had planned for this. His earlier plans of encircling the city were still in progress and while he might not hope no one escaped, surely he could keep an entire court from fleeing?
'Andrik!' Euron shouted.
Andrik the Unsmiling looked at him, hesistant, really just wanting to get back into the slaughter.
'Yes?' He grunted.
'Take some men, find the Three Fold gate. Just follow the walls and you should bump into it eventually. If you have to, beat the location out of some Dornish lowborn. Slaughter all there, and open it. Victarion will be waiting outside, if his encirclement was successful.'
'Yes, my king.'
With that business behind him, Euron further and further into the city, while enjoying the slaughter to its fullest extent. However, he was soon annoyed by a lowly ironborn.
'My king, it's... It's prince Oberyn! He's been spotted at the heart of the fighting... He slays men as if he were some beast!'
'The good prince is a little angry, I believe. Well, if he wants against overwhelming odds, let him. With luck, he'll die. Without luck, he'll stay busy.'

The Sun Tower, a huge tower with... A dome of gold!
If only we could break it down and take the gold!
For now, though, Euron and his men merely assaulted it, hoping to capture the Dornish courtiers and Arianne.
And now, I have to find someone Oberyn cares about... Not just Arianne, I'll need... His paramour? Yes...
While his men ran for the Tower, Euron stayed behind, extracting information about Oberyn's latest lover from some lowborn Dornishman.
Revenge was art, Euron had learned. It had to be enacted artfully, thus.

Luckily, Euron considered himself an artist. At least when it came to revenge.

Asha 'The Kraken's Daughter' Greyjoy

To Asha, my dear, dear niece

Lately, every time I suggested a meeting with the good Mace Tyrell, I was denied.
Logical. His family exerts great influence over the man. So... I thought it better not to announce your coming to his court.
When you arrive at Highgarden, Mace's family can hardly send you back, can they? I will not have a wedding cancelled a second time, that's for sure.
Now, just because you are my niece, I will tell you this: Willas Tyrell is said to be a smart man. He should be good enough for you.
But, by all means, don't let these soft greenlanders keep you tied up. Train! Show them that you are a better swordsmen than many a Greenlander...

Your Uncle, Euron

Sitting on the bow of the ship sailing upriver to Highgarden, Asha sighed. Sometimes, she hated her uncle.
However, Euron seemed to go soft on her, lately. As if to compensate being a kinslayer and murdering her father, he'd been treating her... Nicely?
Probably a mask, but Asha had a duty to more than just her 'King'. She had a duty to the Islands, and if that duty encompassed being married off to a greenlander... So be it.
When the ship docked, she jumped off, impatient. In her simple clothing, she was probably seen as a lowborn. It mattered little.
She noticed the castle had a fine look to it, and was of magnificent size.
It would be beautiful to sack it... Instead, it seems I must live here. Damn.
The guards near the front gates of the keep itself let her pass, as it was the time for audiences, but they did frown at her clothing, wondering why such a good looking lowborn woman was coming for an audience with the lord paramount.
Inside the throne room, Asha stepped to the throne.
' I am Asha, Asha Greyjoy.'

[San Monteriano]

---

King's Landing
Blackwater Bay, The Crownlands
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Lord Renly Baratheon

---

Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, was dead. The news and rumours spread throughout King's Landing, and indeed the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, like the grey plague. Every wynd, brothel and manse within the capital housed echoes of the King's premature death, most claiming that poison had taken him. Renly Baratheon was not skeptical of that assertion at all, after all, Robert did still have some influential enemies; even his own wife was hostile and resentful towards him. The Baratheon brothers had never been that close, like Robert was with Ned Stark, but they were blood of their blood nonetheless, the kin and descendants of Orys Baratheon. Their's was the fury, their words said, and that fury was present in all, even the jovial Renly. He did not feel rage this time, but suspicion and paranoia. Robert had dropped dead right in front of the Iron Throne, circumstances of extreme suspicion. There was no doubt in Renly Baratheon's mind that his kingly brother had been murdered, and he resolved to do something about it.

In place of his usual colourful attire, Renly chose to wear black and grey as a symbol of grieving. In his black doublet trimmed with cloth-of-gold, he looked like a brother of the Night's Watch, suiting his shoulder-length black hair and handsome features. He wore a half-cape over one shoulder, a great golden stag embroidered onto it, it's eyes yellow gemstones. Even in dark colours Renly still shone. 'The most fashionable lord in the whole Seven Kingdoms', some would say when they saw him.

His brother had been dissected by the maesters of the Red Keep in order to ascertain his cause of death, though the Queen persisted otherwise. The Grand Maester oversaw his autopsy, though Renly never quite trusted the ancient maester; Pycelle was a ponderous oaf, he thought. He had instructed Brella, who ran his household whilst in the capital, to begin preparations to leave the city if he did not return by nightfall, and told Loras to do the same. He objected, but Renly asserted his point. He knew, however, that Loras would follow if he mysteriously disappeared.

When Robert's autopsy was completed, the King was sewn up and returned to his bedchambers where he was being prepared for the ascent to the Sept of Baelor to be laid in state. When he arrived three guards of the Kingsguard stood outside the King's chambers. Sers Blount, Trant and Lannister stood watch, with Lannister looking somewhat distraught. "Kingslayer." He said sombrely, nodding at the knight of the Kingsguard. 'Of course he is guarding another slain king...' Renly thought to himself. "Is the King within?" He asked, pointing a finger a the closed doors. Lannister nodded and Renly proceeded on, sliding past him. When he entered the Queen, Prince Joffrey and the other royal children were gathered around the great four-columned bed where Robert now rested. He had been cleaned by Silent Sisters, that had been obvious, with his beard shaved and hair cut and his garments were of the finest materials. The dead king was dressed in silks and satins, cloth-of-gold and all. Beside sat Cersei Lannister, garbed head-to-toe in black. Even though Renly was wary of her, he could not deny her beauty, even in this outfit. He approached. "My condolences, Your Grace, Your Grace." He said gloomily, bowing his head at Joffrey and Cersei respectively.

They barely acknowledged his presence. He looked on at his brother, the strong and brave Robert Baratheon. Many at court said that Renly looked like the spitting image of a young Robert, and even Renly admitted that, often making a jest as he did. Though neatly groomed, his black hair still complimented his tough, powerful build and looks, something Renly and the deceased Robert could share in common. 'Was it the drink that killed Robert, or something else...?" He asked himself, looking over to Cersei. The Baratheon children all shared their mother's luscious blond locks, even little Tommen. A queer feeling filled his body, yet he did not give himself time to contemplate. He cleared his throat a few moments later. "Your Grace, might I talk to you in private?" He asked, his gaze fixed on the Queen. He would not give her the opportunity to capitalise on his brother's death, actions needed to be taken.

[Of the Quendi]

Highgarden
On the River Mander, the Reach
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros



Willas Tyrell

A month after the meeting in the Prince's Pass

When he learned of the arrival of Asha Greyjoy Willas, against his better judgement, got nervous and jittery like a young inexperienced boy, forgetting that not only was he a man grown, he was a ruler of men whose word carried weight a thousand miles from Highgarden. Still Willas had no experience when it came to woman. At twenty and three he was as innocent as a maiden and the thought of marrying a raider woman from the Iron Islands he had never met before was disturbing and a little bit exciting.

But of course Willas wouldn't marry Asha. That made him more than a little guilty about receiving her at Highgarden. The woman had never done him anything and yet already she was a pawn in his and his grandmother's game. But Willas reminded himself that it was Asha's own uncle who had made her a pawn, he just played her and hopefully he would prove able to do so in a manner that would do her little harm.

Dressed in his finest green and golden silk robes, well aware that such finery would not impress the iron born whose queer philosophy on wealth mandated that finery be stolen, Willas sat in a great chair next to his father's throne in the main hall of Highgarden when the Lady Asha entered. Thus seated none could tell that Willas had a crippled leg which helped a bit to soothe his nerves. The fact that the hall was all but empty with only Mace, Willas, Alerie and a few guardsmen and servants helped as well. Willas did not care to meet his betrothed in the presence of hundreds of Tyrell bannermen.

Lady Asha, Willas noted, was fairly handsome. Not quite beautiful perhaps but definitely attractive. That of course was utterly irrelevant, yet still interesting. "Welcome Lady Asha, you are most welcome at my table and in my hall." Mace greeted the Greyjoy, giving Willas time to discreetly inspect his prospective spouse.

Though standing alone in the hall of one of the mightiest lords of the Seven Kingdoms dressed little different from a commoner Lady Asha looked like she owned the place. The woman had an undeniable aura of self-confidence about her that Willas could only envy. Seeing her Willas no longer thought it odd that she, a woman, commanded many ships in her homeland. She had a charismatic demeanor that no doubt made men want to follow her. That too Willas had reason to envy. She would no doubt be furious when she learned that she was being played by Willas and his grandmother.

[Unitaristic Regions]

Asha 'The Kraken's Daughter' Greyjoy

To be honest, Asha had no idea how to behave. The greenlands were completely strange to her. She knew she was supposed to curtsey, but she didn't.
I would fail at it. And I won't show deference, they better earn my respect.
Mace Tyrell didn't look like he was going to earn anything, the fat oaf. Asha didn't mean to, she just couldn't respect him. This... Fat man had probably never lifted a finger in his life.
The man seated next to him might be Willas. A gentle looking young man.
It could have been much, much worse. Then again, it could have been better.
"Welcome Lady Asha, you are most welcome at my table and in my hall."
As she had decided before, she didn't curtsey.
"I thank you, my Lord Paramount, for your hospitality. First and foremost, I'd like to express my 'dear' uncle's deepest regrets that he could not join me. He bade me tell you that he is extremely busy regarding... Administrative matters, as he put it so nicely."
Sure sounds more fancy than: Killing and raping in Dorne.
"However, once he's done, he'll come to Highgarden, personally."
Then, Asha gave a quick laugh.
"Uncle Euron always was the smooth one. Anyways, might I be allowed to meet my... Husband to be?"