A Song of Ice and Fire - Interregnum (IC/Open)

[Nuxipal]

The Grand Council Meeting

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OOC

The Grand Council held its daily meeting, determined that a new tax was needed to continue funding their living expenses and sent an order to the Master of Laws, Martyn Sand, to get to work on a new tax to pay the living expenses of the Grand Council. The meeting was brief and was closed the same way all other meetings have closed. A vote on who should be crowned King. They reviewed the current Candidates and voted once again on who would become King.

Rhaegar Targaryen - Elder Half-Brother of Aegon VII, Son of Queen Daenerys. Raised in the Red Keep for a time and of Royal blood by Queen Daenerys and Prince Quentyn Martell. Trueborn during the time when Daenerys and Quentyn were married. House Targaryen Restoration.

Davos Baratheon - Distant kin of Aegon VII. Aegon's father was the bastard Nephew of Stannis, whom is the Grandfather of Davos. No royal blood. Trueborn child of Shireen Baratheon and Devan Seaworth. House Baratheon Restoration.

Queen Catlyn Stormfyre nee Tully - Queen of the Late King Aegon VII. Beloved of the late King, however she never bore him any children. Trueborn child of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey. No Royal Blood. Would pass the Throne to a member of the Tully family upon death.

Maekar Targaryen - Grandson of Rhaegar Targaryen. Young and unmarried. Royal Blood through his grandfather Rhaegar. Trueborn child by Aenys Targaryen and Elean Staunton. Targaryen Restoration.

Tywin Lannister - Blood of Lannister and Stark, Married to Sansa Tyrell. Support of three major houses and regions would provide significant strength of rule. No Royal Blood. Trueborn. Lannister Restoration.

The Voting concluded thusly: Rhaegar Targaryen: 2 Votes
Davos Baratheon: 2 Vote
Catlyn Stormfyre nee Tully: 2 Vote
Maekar Targaryen: 1 Votes
Tywin Lannister: 2 Votes

---

As they left the room, again they were without a King. The voting had been at the 2,2,2,1,2 for the past two years. It has become expected for them to not choose a King and over the past year they have effectively replaced a King as the ruling body of the Realm. There has been talk of making the council permanent from some of the members of the council, however they have found heavy opposition from Ser Kevan Lefford, who is the representative of the Faith Militant who says that the Faith demands that there be one King and not a bickering council.

This is the new reality of Westeros. A council ruling in place of the deceased King Aegon Stormyfyre, Seventh of his name. His wife heads the Council and is also the only claimant who sits on the council. The realm is becoming corrupt at its core, but in the seven Kingdoms, prosperity endures. Fairmarket has been chartered as a full city, and several other towns have grown and have pending charters. These include Ryamsport on the Arbor, Plankytown in Dorne, Saltpans in the Riverlands, and surprisingly Barrowton, which has grown large thanks to Free Folk immigration south. New Castles have been built in several places as well as new roads, new fleets, and new families have risen. Whomever is to become King has these charters awaiting his approval, a rival in the Grand Council, which is content in their positions of power, and other potential claimants. Welcome to Westeros, 360 AC, where when you play the Game of Thrones, you either win or you die.

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[Givious]

Lord Rhaegar Targaryen
Manor of House Targaryen, King's Landing
0 Days

Rhaegar looks over the city from his solar, his eyes gazing at the red bricks of his previous home. He had sent a runner to see the outcome of the vote, although he knew already what it would be. It was an insult that his possessions still sat in the Tower of the Hand, but he was not allowed to return to it other than to sign papers that they fattened council pushed out, making their life all the more grand. Rhaegar had his birds in the council, those that chirped the things behind the closed doors. Many on the council were corrupt, Cerion pushing for his family, Hugh Storm pushing for the Baratheons, Tristifer Mudd pushing for Lady Catelyn-- although he did not know voting he knew well enough to guess. As the runner returned he held out a letter for Rhaegar, on it the seal of House Sunglass.

"What of the vote?" Rhaegar asks as he takes the letter from the servant.

"Still deadlock, m'lord."

"And this..." Rhaegar points to the letter while the servant shrugs. Taking a knife he opens the letter, unfolding the parchment. As he reads over the words his eyes fill with tears. His wife was dead, finally been taken by the sickness plaguing her. Although their marriage had been mostly a sham, her loving her handmaiden more than her husband, it was a political match that kept Rhaegar in a position of power and her allowing for her houses name to not fall into just the history books. Rhaegar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as a tear rolls down his cheek and lands on the paper, Rhaegar finally opening his eyes again and looking back at the keep.

"Bring me mourning clothes, I am expecting guests soon."

"Yes m'lord." The servant quickly gets an outfit for his master set aside, all black with a golden chaing, the Targaryen dragon at the end of it. The servants in the kitchen prepare a light breakfast for multiple guests by Rhaegar instruction. Rhaegar also sends orders for his daughter to be awoken and for her to get dressed. Today she would be betrothed, and Rhaegar would secure an alliance he needed.

Captain Brandon Beesbury
Streets of King's Landing
0 Days

Brandon and a small contingent of the Golden Spears ride through the early morning streets, people moving as the men pass by. Brandon is dressed in his armor, a segmented plate over his golden chain hauberk, his helm sitting upon his head. He and his men ride for the Manse of the Dragon, to anyone watching the word of Lady Sunglass's death would have reached them, and it would look like him heading to see his brother in law in this day of mourning. However other things were at play here, and soon Brandon's position would be elevated beyond his dreams.

As Brandon approached the manse, a guard at the gate welcomed the Captain as his men took up formation at the door. The mansion was walled, guarded by a contingent of 20 live in men, and it was constantly in the patrols of the Gold Cloaks. The servants were hand picked from the servants at Dragonstone, many coming from Sweetport Sound originally and they lived within the mansion. As Brandon entered the main hall he found a table prepared with a modest breakfast, and at the head sat Rhaegar in black attire, a half asleep look on his face as his eyes faded off into nothing.

"Brother," Brandon's voice broke Rhaegar's stare. "I came as soon as I heard. I am so sorry..." He sees Rhaegar knows the act, and he drops it. "Was she with her?"

"When has that woman ever left her side..." Rhaegar picks up a goblet, taking a sip of its contents. "Your sister is the woman in my dreams, not her."

"I miss her as well..." Brandon takes a seat at the table. "But we cannot dwell on the past. I assume you heard of the vote? Even some of my men have become nervous, no King for three years and the only decision that they can make unanimously is to raise another tax to pay for their lifestyles..."

"That Lannister boy.... I fear that he is pocketing most of the coinage with the help of the Master of Coin, sending it back to the Rock."

"You don't think..."

"I do." Rhaegar takes a deep breath. "We must wait for the others..."

Jacerys Targaryen
Flea Bottom, King's Landing
0 Days

Jacerys walked the streets of King's Landing, his grey robes tattered at the end due to his walking. Many of the small folk send blessings to him as he and his guard approach one of the many pot shops that the faith militant had wrestled from the hands of criminals in the city. With coin from the Most Devout, Jacerys was able to run the pot shops with no cost, and with the best ingredients that could be bought for the people. The brown was better, and contained good ingredients unlike what it had been years ago. Jacerys stays at one of the shops for an hour or so, mixing the vast vat and serving some of the poor who come for food. None are turned away, as everyone has a right to survive. After serving for some time, Jacerys slips away, being guarded by a few Warrior's Sons he makes his way to the Sept of Baelor for morning prayers, staying there for a time until a runner brings him news of the vote, and new tax. Quickly gathering himself, he makes for his fathers manse, arriving just after the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.

"Father," Jacerys states as he enters the room. He sees his father dressed in black, knowing what had happened. "The seven watches over here now."


"Thank you son." Rhaegar stands, hugging his son as they both take a seat, Jacerys taking a goblet of water to drink. Brandon is the only one drinking wine, Rhaegar staying with water himself.

"I thought I had made myself clear to Lefford... he did not listen."

"The man thinks himself the sword of the warrior." Brandon snorts.

"And he is. He commands a very large force here in the city..." Rhaegar interjects

"Do you really believe he would join us?"

"Against heathens?" Jacerys smiles. "Aye, he would."

Lucerys Targaryen
Coast of Blackwater Bay, Crackclaw Point
0 Days

Lucerys was leaving the Hightower for the Citadel as he watched Ryam Redwyne drag his son by the ear into the tower. In front of the whole town Ryam made his boy a fool, but for good reason. Horas was a fool, but even a shit can be shined. Lucerys took the long route to the Citadel, walking through the street and stopping to buy a loaf of bread for him to eat today. As he reached the great library of the Citadel, one of the Archmaesters looked at him spitefully, his tomes on dragonlore an insult to the old man who thought dragons should be dead along with all other magic. Using candles deep in the dark, Lucerys read for hours and hours on various things, on top of dragons on how to heal wounds and common building practices for all sorts of things. He wasn't the sharpest of sword fighters, but his mind was sharper than his brothers or "nephews", who were his age. He slowly pulls the bread apart like it was a chicken, throwing some pieces to the ground for the mice in the lower levels of the Citadel. He is suddenly interupted by a maester, who tells him that he is wanted by the Grand Maester on the floor above.

Maekar and Aegon Targaryen
Blackwater Bay, Near Crackclaw Point
0 Days

"FASTER!" Maekar roars. "They are getting away!"

"Not for long." Aegon draws back his bow, loosing an arrow that flies from the bridge of the Pride of Driftmark, it finding its mark in the neck of the captain of the slaver vessel. As he falls, he yanks on the wheel pulling ship to the side allowing the slower galley to catch up to the faster cog. As the galley nears, Maekar barks at the captain.

"Do not ram the ship! We need it without damage!" The captain gives him a nod as Aegon and his archers release volley after volley of arrows at the ship, peppering the smaller crew. As they near and the ramps are brought out, Maekar chargers up a ramp held up by soldiers and leaps across to the slaver vessel. Landing with a heavy thud he has his bastard sword drawn and cuts down two men as they reach for their falchions. Most of the men are unarmored, and quick to kill. He drives his sword into another, this time it getting stuck however and he finds himself weaponless as a man runs at him. The spear in the slaver's hand moves slowly as he jabs at the prince, him taking steps back until suddenly an arrows strikes the mans chest, turning to see his brother now on the ship, Aegon draws his sword cutting down a pirate before drawing his axe and throwing it to his brother who buries it into another's skull. By this point men from the Pride of Driftmark are pouring onto the slaver ship, many of the pirates surrendering. As soon as the crew was dealt with, Maekar orders all the arrows removed, the deck quickly cleaned, and men to change into new clothes. The ship reeks, as any flesh ship does, in the hold he finds multiple dead bodies from slaves not making the trip back to Tyrosh or Lys who had not been thrown overboard. Maekar turns the ship back the way it was heading, towards the coast.

Aenys Targaryen
Coast of Blackwater Bay, Crackclaw Point
0 Days

Anys sits in the trees with thirty men at arms, the slavers breaking camp as they await their ship. There was maybe twenty of them, with ten or so slaves; many of them women and children from nearby villages. Aenys had been hunting the men for days, and now they were within his sight. He could hears the screams of a woman and the men laughing at her distress. One of his men reaches for his sword, but Aenys stops him.

"We wait for my sons."

"My lord, they are..."

"I know very well what they are doing. But if we charge now her throat will be slit, not her honor stolen." The young knight returns the sword to his sheath as they hear some of the men yell, the cog was approaching their camp. Aenys hoped that his sons had captured the ship, or else he would be heavily outnumbered. He sees a hooded person at the front of the ship, and he knows from the stance it is Maekar. Nodding to the man next to him, his blows the battle horn and the thirty men let out a battle cry as they begin to gallop towards the camp, lances at the ready. The men in the camp begin yelling as they reach for spears, the numbers on their side with the arrival of their ship. The beating of the hooves is deafening as one man raises a Targaryen Banner. Behind the pirates the men from the ship begin to disembark, only to start attacking the pirates from behind. One of the men is nearly cleaved in two by Maekar, who's armor is still covered in blood from the earlier battle. As the horsemen clash with the pirates, they hit the edges as the men from the ship charge the center. Even with spears the lances make short work of the men who aren't armored, many just dying from hooves crushing their skulls after being knocked down from trying to run. As a few men throw down their weapons, they are encircled by the horsemen as Aegon runs to the slaves, unchaining them. They woman, who's dress was torn from her, sobs as Aegon removes his black cloak covering her and holding her against his armor.

"Shhhh, its okay. We are here to save you." He tries to consul the young girl, who is weeping in his arms. "Which ones?" She sobs, but manages to point at two men, one with his cock still hanging out. Before they can say anything Maekar orders them held down and "gelded". Both the men scream as an axe is used, little care being used as to what is cut. Both men die minutes later from blood loss as Aegon carries the girl to the now arrived Pride of Driftmark who begins unloaded captured slavers from the ship, which was set on fire, the stench never coming out so as to not make a good trade ship. Before Aenys is some twenty pirates, and he looks them over before talking.

"Your leader," His voice booms. "Where is he?" Quickly all the men point at a blue haired older man. "Seize him. He will be taken back to Dragonstone and justice will be done."

"Father," Maekar steps forward. "The rest?"

"Which of you are Westerosi?" Seven of the remaining nineteen hands raise. "Take them to the ship, they will also face judgement on Dragonstone."

"And the Essosi?" One of the knights asks as he pulls out his knife, knowing well what the orders will be.

"Kill them."

[Ochallan]

Braavos, The Sealord's Palace, Morothys Terratho
Morothys sat in his chambers, quill in hand and hunched over a ledger, pouring over the numbers, and smiling more and more as he did. His sons had been productive, asides the one that called himself a Bravo, as ever. Orothys was the most productive of his children, as ever, thousands upon thousands of coins coming in from his assorted buisnesses. He was becoming a good young man, a proper heir, perhaps he should be the son to be legitimized... or Mothys? Mothys profit was pale by comparison to Orothys, but the boy had fed the city amply, and was popular as a result. Mothys had massively improved Braavos itself, improving fortification and anti-siege measures. His actions had fed all the city, and continued to do so. The actions of his daughter could not be ignored either, she had ensured the city remained relatively crime free, and was making a large income of her own volition, she would grow to be a good politician, but Morothys had to watch her. Kennalos would not be legitimized, it was a simple fact, the boy was strong and quick, but he was dull and bland in character, he'd never lead anything.

The ledger looked good, though some expense had been dedicated to the improvement of the fleet, and the trips to Sothoryos, though these were expected to be expensive. Thus was the price for progress. The fleet had to begin work on cleaning the Basilisk Isles of the piratical scum that dominated them, for Morothy's plan to be set in motion. Sothoryos was a goldmine, a place where huge profit could be made, exotic animals to be sold, and thousands of tons of exotic lumber. Colonization of the abandoned city of Zamettar would be a good starting point, exploration of that hidden abyss of the world had always played in Morothys mind, but now it would begin. He had eyes on Nefer and the plains of the Jhogos Nhai too, the Zorses and other such creatures would bring great profit, and the city of Nefer would be a good staging point for far eastern trade. The isle of Ib beckoned too, lumber being in need in Braavos. All the world had it's merits, but the hidden places truly excited him. The Shadowlands, Ulthos, Sothoryos and the seas west of Farwynd. These places would be risky to explore, but this was not Qarth. Braavos would be what drove the world into the future, and Morothy's name would be remembered for millenia to come. He hoped.

[Lorellion]

Queen Catelyn Stormfyre
King's Landing
The Red Keep

Queen Catelyn Stormfyre stood in the empty gallery of the Great Hall looking down upon the Iron Throne. She was alone in the vast hall but it felt as though the ghost of her dead husband was haunting the room. Every day for the past three years, Catelyn came into the Great Hall by herself. Many people in the capital loved the gardens or the beaches the best, but her favorite place was this very throne room. The massive chair below her just emanated power and the room around it was filled with a sense of majesty and wonder. Growing up in Riverrun, she became bored with the monotony of her native land and felt as though the walls of the castle were closing in on her. When her father arranged for her to marry Aegon Stormfyre, she felt as though she had been reborn. The sex, politics, and intrigue around her excited her and made her feel alive. She frowned slightly. She had been Queen for a time and had been the most powerful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. No, I am still the Queen. That will not be taken away from me.

She had been so transfixed by the throne and her own thoughts that she hadn't heard the door to the gallery open. She jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to find her brother Brynden standing beside her. She looked back down at the throne. Brynden sighed. "I guessed I'd find you here, sister. It's practically the only place you're not swarmed by noblemen looking to marry you."

Catelyn scoffed. "Most of the men in this city disgust me."

Brynden chuckled heartily. "I can't quite say the same about the women. It's quite hard to find a good whore in Riverrun. But the women in King's Landing! Wow! Just last night I was in a brothel-"

Catelyn cut him off abruptly. "I'm not exactly interested in listening to your tales about the last whore from Flea Bottom you rolled around with. Stop thinking with your cock. If you weren't aware, there are more important things going on right now."

Brynden smirked. "Isn't this how this whole mess started? Were you and your husband unaware of how to properly consummate your marriage or was Aegon secretly a eunuch?" Catelyn shot him a glare. He laughed. "I'd guess the former because I've heard from quite a few handmaidens that you know perfectly well how to "entertain" men. Is it true that you've been hosting a certain man in your quarters in the late hours of the night? The same man I heard you have been voting for to be the next king."

Catelyn wheeled around and slapped her brother across the face. "You have always been daft but I've never taken you to be a spreader of gossip. Especially untrue gossip made to demean my reputation. The Grand Council meetings are becoming more and more dire and the only thing I have going for me is that I'm the beloved widow of King Aegon who is still mourning his death. I will not give any of them means to believe otherwise. You will keep your mouth shut." Brynden rubbed his cheek but still grinned like an idiot. Why did Robert send him? Catelyn looked away but continued talking. "I have been in the capital for quite some time and I can read the signs. The fragile peace we have is about to break. There is a storm coming to the capital and I'm sure that blood will be spilled."

Brynden muttered something about her being overly dramatic. She glared at him and continued. "For your information, I have been voting for Lord Rhaegar. He is the rightful heir to the throne, like it or not. Chaos is brewing and we need to make sure that we are not swallowed up by it. No matter what happens, we will come out on top." She turned to face him.

Brynden smirked. "Like you care about the "rightful heir to the throne." As long as your butt gets into that chair, you're happy. Why on earth would you vote for someone other than yourself?"

"You have never been a politician, have you? I can't simply vote for myself. Besides, it would be a dumb political move. I may win, anyway, but if I don't, I need allies to make certain I retain some of my power." She paused and turned back to the throne. "You may be a dimwitted fool when it comes to the game, but you are a fine military strategist. I need your promise that you will do whatever I ask whenever I ask it."

Brynden smiled like an idiot again. "Cat, you know that has never been my strength."

Catelyn raised her eyebrows. "This is no time for your antics. Robert sent you here to assist me but I will not hesitate to send you back to Riverrun with your cock in your mouth if you hinder me. Can you promise me your loyalty?"

Brynden's smile left his face and was replaced with a serious frown. He nodded. "I promise you. My sword is yours."

It was Catelyn's turn to smile. "Good, because I need you to do something for me."

Medgar Tully
King's Landing
The Red Keep

Swords clashed together as he and his cousin Daena sparred in the courtyard. "Is that the best you got?" He taunted her. She bit her lip and slashed down at his thigh. He parried it and launched a counterattack which she dodged nimbly. He slashed at her chest and she blocked it easily before taking a swing at his head. He ducked beneath it and raised his sword to block her incoming attack, but he was too late. Her sparring sword caught him in his gut and he fell over, the wind knocked out of him.

She took off her helmet, her long golden hair spilling out over her shoulders. She put the tip of her sword on his neck and smirked. "I think the better question is: Is that the best you got?" He pushed her sword away from his neck and stood up, clutching his stomach. "Ah, did I hurt you?" He shot a glare at her.

"I think we should take a quick break. He pulled off his helmet and walked to the side of the courtyard where a jug of wine sat upon a barrel. He lifted it to his mouth and poured it down his throat. Daena followed him and leaned on a pillar smirking.

"Medgar, I thought you could duel better than that. I'm pretty sure I sparred with Edmyn once and he even put up a better fight than that."

He glared at her, but soon began to smile. Before he knew it, they were both laughing. Neither of them much liked Medgar's older brother much because he was much too pompous and arrogant for their tastes. "I didn't even think Edmyn could pick up a sword."

Daena laughed. "Oh, of course. He should just stick to knitting with the septas. I feel bad for that Targaryen girl. She has no idea what she's getting herself into."

Medgar knew she was referring to her brother's betrothed. "I forgot about her. I suspect she should be heading for Riverrun now..." He trailed off, memories of home flooding into his mind.

Daena frowned and sat beside him. "What's wrong? You don't fancy her do you?"

He shook his head and looked at her. "Of course not! She's quite a looker, of course, but no. I was just thinking of home."

"You mean Riverrun? You're kidding me, right? We hated it there. There was a reason we came with my father to King's Landing. Riverrun was worse than all of the Seven Hells put together... Well perhaps that's stretching it a bit, but you get the point."

"I wasn't all that bad. And besides, it's not like King's Landing is any better. It's just a viper's nest of scheming lords and ladies looking for power."

Daena laughed. "Don't forget the thousands of ladies who follow you around wanting you to marry them."

Medgar smiled. "Oh, how could I forget? Aunt Catelyn tried to arrange a marriage between me and one of the Fowler girls."

"You're kidding!" She paused. "I suppose you're right. King's Landing wasn't what I expected, either. My father had told us all those stories that I guess I was half-expecting King's Landing to be like them... You're not thinking of leaving, are you? You wouldn't go back to Riverrun would you?"

Medgar looked down. "I'm not sure... Minisa wrote me and told me that my father is getting worse. Edmyn might be lord sooner than we thought."

Daena shivered a bit. "Seven help us all."

Medgar laughed. "Would you come back with me if I did?" Medgar and Daena had been inseparable since the time they were born. There wasn't a time Medgar remembered being away from her. He looked at her and she was avoiding his gaze. "What?"

"I don't think I will, Medgar. Riverrun may be your home, but it's not mine."

"You're kidding, right? You're a Tully. You're family."

Daena shook her head. "I'm a Rivers, a bastard. I don't belong in Riverrun."

"So what will you do then?"

His cousin looked off into the distance. "I don't know. Maybe go to Lys... Possibly Dorne. Who knows, maybe I'll join the Kingsguard. Or Queensguard if Aunt Catelyn has her way."

Medgar sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. "Well, wherever you go, I go. We're a team, no matter what."

Daena smiled at him and then picked up her sword. "I've had enough of this sentimental shit. Let's get back to fighting."

Lord Robert Tully
Riverrun

Robert Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands laid upon a couch on his balcony, looking out over the Red Fork and the Tumblestone rivers. He sighed deeply, inhaling the fresh air around him. He could feel the pain of gout in his joints, but a salve made by Maester Thaeron had eased the pain to make him more comfortable. He knew his days were numbered but he was not scared. I've lived in this world for long enough.

He heard a soft knock on the door to his solar. "Come in," he called out feebly. The door opened and his daughter Minisa strode to his balcony and took a seat beside him. "My sweet girl."

Minisa smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Robert smiled. "Better than ever." He laughed and then coughed. Minisa frowned concernedly. She felt his brow and then pressed a cool washcloth to it.

She dabbed at his forehead and he sighed with relief. She had been by to visit him everyday. Her green eyes sparkled with sympathy which reminded him of his late wife Deyna. I suppose I'll see you again soon, my love. Her long auburn hair was tied up in an elegant braid and she was wearing a long, flowing red and blue gown. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine, my sweet girl. You don't need to worry about me." He paused and coughed violently. "Where is your brother?"

Minisa rolled her eyes. "Entertaining some merchants from Fairmarket."

Robert smiled. Of course he is. Always the dutiful little lord. Edmyn had only been by to visit him about once or twice in the past two weeks. Ever since Robert had fallen ill, Edmyn had been the acting lord of Riverrun. He ran matters by Robert, but it was him who was doing the ruling. Robert wished Edmyn would come by more, but he understood. "Ah, I see. Why aren't you down there then? I'm sure Edmyn is throwing a wonderful feast."

"All of those merchants are mentally undressing me. It's unnerving. You would expect that they would be more... noble."

Robert laughed. "Oh Minisa. How much you remind me of your mother. She hated the merchants from Fairmarket, but she was always with me when they came because she was the Lady of Riverrun."

Minisa scowled at the ground. "Well I'm not."

"Oh but you are, my sweet girl. You may not like it, but I believe you have a talent for this sort of thing. You have your Aunt's intelligence and your mother's compassion. You should go back down there. Edmyn's not married yet and he needs you more than I do." Minisa looked reluctant. Robert smiled warmly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Minisa bit her lip, but eventually stood up. "If you insist Father. But I'll be back after the feast." She smiled at him and squeezed his hand lightly before leaving his solar. Robert looked back out over the Red Fork and the Tumblestone.

"Riverrun is in good hands."

[Krugmar]

Lord Ryam Redwyne
Oldtown

---

Ryam pulled his son, Horas, through the streets of Oldtown as they made their way to the Hightower. He had taken a temporary leave of the capital to return to the Arbor, after hearing news that Horas had been stirring up trouble with some of his vassal knights. Ryam was rarely in a good mood, and such a useless son only made it worse. He had left his squire, Hoster Tully, with the ships as he did not want to subject him to the torture that was spending time with Horas.

"Why must I stay with the Blackfyre's father, I thought you hated them?" asked Horas, practically announcing it to the world as he shouted rather than spoke.

"Speak quietly, or do not speak at all" snapped Ryam, giving Horas a deathly glare, "You are staying with the Blackfyre's as I have no time to train you myself, nor do I wish to. Hopefully they will beat some skills into you, otherwise it is the Citadel for you, or the Night's Watch, whichever you prefer to waste your life in" muttered Ryam.

"This isn't fair, Desmond never had to-" started Horas, before Ryam cut him off.

"Desmond is not useless, unlike you. It is time you started acting like a man, or else the match with Lady Roxton is called off. I will not dishonour her father by marrying her to an ungrateful wretch like you" grunted Ryam, before he turned back towards the Hightower and pressed on. Perhaps he had been a bit harsh with his son, but he would only learn if treated aggressively, not cuddled and shielded from the world. Randyll Tarly must have been turning in the grave to see what had become of his great-grandson

They reached the Hightower quickly, and a servant allowed them entry into the building. Ryam bid his guards wait outside as he stepped into the magnificent tower and watched as one of the servants ran off to inform their masters that Lord Redwyne had arrived.

---

Ser Mathis Redwyne
King's Landing, The Red Keep

---

Ser Mathis sat in his brother's office, looking over the ship records. He had been named acting Master of Ships in his brother's temporary absence and was delighted at this appointment as it was one of the few things he was skilled in. Technically his brother didn't have the authority to issue such a command, but when he confronted him about it his response was ''and who is going to complain, the King?' followed by a bout of laughter from the both of them. Truth be told neither of the Redwyne's really cared who would be King, though their experiences under Baratheon and Lannister rulers had not been good. Many times Mathis had listened to his father Horas moan about 'that bloody blond idiot, Joffrey', with his 'vicious bitch of a mother' and 'oaf of a father'.

He chuckled upon noticing that quite a few of the newer captains of the Royal fleet were Reachmen, it seemed that Ryam had been filling empty positions with men loyal to himself where possible, though his ten years as Master of Ships had already earnt him a large chunk of support amongst the captaincy. He recalled that a large portion of the Royal fleet had sworn themselves to Stannis at the start of the War of the Five Kings, and wondered if they would do the same for Ryam. The situation had been different, however, and it would depend upon who Ryam supported for King, if there was someone he would support.

"Ahem" said his wife, who he had not even noticed entering the room. Lady Arwyn had lost none of her beauty over the years, but had gained a vicious streak and a disregard for her husband, yet Mathis loved her all the same. "I need a few gold dragons" she said, though as a command, not a request.

"I don't have that much on me dear, though I have a few silver-" feebly replied Mathis, pulling out his small pouch.

"No, I need gold dragons!" snapped Arwyn, shocking Mathis who was not used to her shouting at him over such matters. "There must be some around here" she continued, pulling open some of Ryam's chests and drawers.

"No, please don't, these are Ryam's quarters!" weakly protested Mathis, though he could not stop his wife even if he wanted to.

"Ah, there we are!" she said, pulling out a large bunch of gold dragons from a small box and pushing them into a small pouch she carried with her. "I will see you at supper darling" she said, before striding out of the room. Mathis sunk into his chair and pushed his head into his hands, Ryam was going to have a fit when he discovered the missing gold.

Mathis stood up and walked to the box and opened it, inside was a note. 'For the Wedding' it read, referring to the wedding between his nephew Ser Desmond and Lady Elinor Rowan for which Ryam had been saving up for years, hence why it had been delayed for so long. Mathis began to feel ill, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, fainting from the stress.

[Asyir]

Ser Emmittyn Aelör of Blackhaven
Blackhaven Keep, Aelör holdings
The Dornish Marches, The Stormlands:

---

"That's it Rendyll, keep your sword nice and level like that," Ser Emmittyn Aelör instructed to his son. Rendyll held out his sword, taking a practice swing at his father, whom easily deflected it with his practice sword. "That was a good swing son. Keep swinging like that, and you'll be a great knight someday."

Rendyll looked up at his father in admiration. He cracked a smile,"just like you father right?"

"Yes son. Just like me," Emmittyn responded.

Before Rendyll or Emmittyn could speak further, Ser Roryn Ironshaft approached the pair. "Ser. Your father requests you at the council chambers. Some matter of the Wyl's, or something of that nature. He says it it urgent."

"Very well," Emmittyn retorted back. Ser Roryn bowed, and left the courtyard. Emmittyn turned back to his son. "Go back inside. Go find mother. We can play again later."

"Yes father."

Emmittyn entered the keep through the large oak doors. After walking through corridor after corridor, he finally arrived into the council chambers, where his father was seated at the head of a large oak table. Six people sat on each side of the table, with one chair open opposite of Lord Shoryn.

Emmittyn took up his seat, and was immediately pestered by questions from his uncle Ser Darry. "Emmittyn, as heir of this house, and heir to the lands of it, do you think it is wise to risk our resources on some hopeless war for naught."

"Uncle, may I remind you that those bastards took our lands. They have ruined several iron mines and have taken several settlements. Those are ours by right. If the Grand Council won't act, we will," Lord Shoryn argued. Shoryn was bitter over the loss of land to House Wyl, nearly twenty years ago. He openly regretted not marching against the Wyl's. "Besides, House Caron would assist us. Perhaps we could convince Lord Baratheon."

"Lord Baratheon would never assist us in such a conquest. They would gain nothing from warfare with House Wyl. Such action could provoke Dorne in marching a larger host to Wyl, especially after the marriage between the Dayne's and Wyl's. Now is not the time for war. Rather, we should wage an economical attack on Wyl. Maybe hire some bandits to harass them," Darry suggested.

"Now is the time for action. I have sat around long enough. We wait no longer!" Shoryn yelled out. He slammed his fist down upon the table, cracking it.

"Father," Emmittyn heard himself say,"Ser Darry is right, we cannot attack now. We are not yet ready. We should wait until the other great houses war among each other, say Dorne against The Reach."

"Eveyone out!" Shoryn screamed out in utter madness. "Except for my son."

The disgruntled council left the council chambers. Shoryn waited to speak until the guardsmen closed the door. "Emmittyn, as heir to Blackhaven, you must be aggressive, or other lords will take advantage of you. I was too easy and soft on the Wyl's. Look were it got me. Lost revenue and farmland."

"I understand father. We cannot risk war with Dorne. They are simply too strong, while we remain weak. Even with the Caron's, we stand no chance."

"I am sending a raven to Lord Caron on this matter tonight. We will see what his reply is," Shoryn said,"for now, leave me be."

Men mitten stood up, and left he chamber, heading to the only place where he could stop this madness. His brother Willhelm's chambers.

[Moth-Gar]

Darrik "The Hammer" Morshall, Lord of Castamere, outside of Casterly Rock

It was early morning, the sun was shining, the clouds were dispersed and the air was warm as Darrik marched along the road with his personal guard of 10 soldiers, outfitted with chain mail and leather armor as they formed two lines with 5 men each. Darrik was in between the two lines, wearing Steel Armor and his Great sword being sheathe on his back. Darrik was a sight to behold, riding on top of his own horse, a black, large stallion that was like his owner, big, proud and young. He was a big man for his age, standing at 6'11 and weighing 300 pounds, while his own men were small compared to him. He was formerly at Castamere teaching his younger brother, Derrik, everything he knew and believed, much like what his father did to him, but decided to journey to Casterly Rock for personal reasons.

He was the only child of Gerrad Morshall, former sworn sword turned landed knight, sworn House to House Lannister. Gerrad was surprisingly efficient and adept at ruling his own house, showing charisma and wisdom while also showing mercy and compassion. Like most Houses in Westeros, he was given land, that land being Castamere, home to the once proud and mighty House Reyne, but also home to the newly discovered gold and silver mines. Gerrad was aware of the tragic tale that happened in Castamere, but he still wanted to drain the underground parts of Castamere and rebuild it. Unfortunately, he died before he had the chance to rebuild, but Darrik will continue the rebuild in honor of his father.

After a while of walking on the road, Darrik spotted Casterly Rock, and immediately hurried his mount while his men followed suit. He later arrived at Casterly Rock, where he entered inside the home of the Lions, home to the Lannisters.

[Elepis]

House Nymeros-Martell

Great Hall of Sunspear, wedding of Ser Meryn Dayne and Lady Mertha Wyl
Prince Lewyn Nymeros-Martell

---

"You may now Cloak the bride and bring her under your protection" The light refracted off the crystal crown, shooting a torrent of rainbows in to the air. A step below the septon, Ser Meryn Dayne wrapped a purple and yellow stripped cloak around Lady Mertha Wyl's shoulders, covering a portion of her long and beautiful cascading aurburn hair. The pair turned to face the crowd of Dornish nobles in the hall and embraced. At this the crowd cheered, almost raising the roof of the long hall of the Martells. The couple smiled at each other and walked down the steps of the stone dais to a table beneath it. The sat down in to ebony chairs, Meryn's one decorated with the snake and foot of House Wyl of Wyl, Mertha's one adorned with the sword and star of House Dayne of Starfall. Meryn, the Sword of the Morning released the white great sword Dawn from its scabbard and laid it on the table in front of him. At this signal the most prominent members of House Dayne and Wyl joined the new couple at the table. The Martell's had been invited to join them but Princess Elia had respectfully declined, saying her family would be more than happy to sit at the second table from the dais.

Thus Prince Lewyn found himself sitting in the middle of a long polished oak table at the center of the Great Hall of the Martell's. At the head of the table, closest to the High Table (normally reserved for the Martell's) sat the Princess and Prince of Dorne, Elia Nymeros-Martell-Dayne and Edric Dayne-Nymeros-Martell. Next to them sat the great lords of Dorne, Lord Quentin Yronwood, the so called Bloodroyal, Lord Ryon Allyrion, Lady Cassella Vaith and other powerful Martell bannermen and bannerwomen.

The heir to Sunspear and Dorne sat with his family and friends. To his left sat his twin sister, Loreza Martell, heir to Starfall. Despite sharing the same womb for nine months, the twins were not much alike. Lewyn was cynical, sarcastic and had a certain dark humour. His looks would be described as above average for his thirteen years but not handsome, Lewyn was also very intelligent for his age and had a gift for determining when people were lying. When people first met Lewyn, he struck them as a intelligent but anti-social person, however most people grew to like him as they spent time with him. Loreza on the hand seemed to make friends wherever she went. She was quick to laugh and very beautiful for her age, with the startling violet eyes and brown-auburn hair of the Martells . Loreza was also very outgoing and sexually liberal, much like her bastard uncle Maryn Sand. She insisted she was a maiden but Lewyn had seen her flirting with boys and girls around Sunspear since the age of ten and he wondered how long she would remain a maiden. Despite their differences, the twins remained close and were protective of each other.

Opposite the Prince and Princess sat the two bastard wards of Sunspear, although you may be killed for calling them that in the walls of the castle. The elder was Lisable Sand, daughter of Martyn Sand, the Master of Laws. A prickly, hot-tempered woman who is given to martial pursuits as she considers herself a warrior, wielding a spear, daggers, and a round shield of steel and copper. She is hard, quick, hot-tempered, and strong. She is fond of wine and is a confident rider who always rides stallions. While not the most comely women in Sunspear, she would not be described as not pretty either. She has dark eyes, full lips and a mane of light brown hair. When inside Sunspear, she carries a number of daggers about her person and when she is outside, hunting or riding she wields a long bladed spear, much like her father's valyrian steel weapon.

The feast came to an end and a troops of musicians began to play on flutes, lutes and violin, the sound filled the hall and people got up to dance. Lewyn was considering going back to his rooms to sleep and read when a musical voice behind him said "My prince, do you care to dance?". The Prince turned and smiled at the face of Allyria Starwyne-Flowers. Lewyn stood up and took her hand "It would be my pleasure, my lady" he replied. The pair reached dance floor in the middle of the hall as the band began playing the 'Dornishman's wife'. Allyria was the bastard daughter of the Lord of the Arbor and the late Dyanne Dayne, sister-in-law of Prince Edric Dayne-Martell (his 3rd brother's wife). At the age of twelve Allyria left the Arbor to be fostered at Sunspear with her uncle and aunt. At first the bond had between Lewyn and Allyria had been sisterly, after all, Lewyn was only nine when she reached Sunspear, then it became more platonic as Lewyn got older and more intelligent.Now he was not sure what he felt for Allyria.

She was stunningly beautiful, with green eyes and lang golden hair which tumbled in a braid around her breasts, she was also funny and charming to all she met. Whenever he thought of her lately, Lewyn got flustered and confused. Some part of him thought he wanted to marry and spend his life with Allyria but the other said he could never love her. He was hair to Sunspear and Dorne, the blood of Mors and Nymeria Martell and would soon be one of the richest, most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms. What was she? the bastard ward of Sunspear, yes her name might be 'Starwyne' but she was heir to nothing worth mentioning. He knew his father, mother and the lords of Dorne would never allow him to marry her. Or would they? His Great-Grandfather had married for love and no one laughed at him.

All these thoughts were shooting through Lewyn's head as they danced and before he new it the song was over. Allyria asked if he wanted another dance but Lewyn declined, he was tired and if he danced much more he would likely fall over. He made his way back to where his twin sister was sitting, talking to some Marcher Lord's son. He finished off his wine and was about to leave when his sister grabbed hold of his sleeve and yanked him to the bench. "You want her" she said, nodding towards Allyria who was now dancing with the middle aged Lord Yronwood. Lewyn pretend to be suprised and said

"Please, it could never go anywhere." Loreza laughed "I never said you should marry her, I just said you want her. I can't say I blame you, if she was like me I would have done something with her by now. If you are scared of what father and mother would say, you don't know them. I snogged the Master-At-Arm's son and what does father do? Shower me with gifts and says he loves me and I am heir to Starfall and second in line to Dorne, I doubt he would treat you differently. This is Sunspear, not Casterly Rock, we are very...liberal here. I would say, if you want to 'enhance your relationship' do it. But that is just my humble opinion." Lewyn looked at the oaken table for a minute then left. As he was climbing to his tower rooms, he heard some one below shout "Bedding!". At that he began to run to his rooms, anxious to get away from the drunk, stampeding guests.

[Nasaira]

KINGS LANDING, TYLAR ARRYN

Kings Landing has been the home of the king's of Westeros since Aegon the conqueror. But now there is no king that sits on the Iron Throne, just a bickering council that cannot come to a decision as to who the new king should be. Several claimants are available. Of course, this decision should be easy as a Targaryen has always sat on the Iron Throne and a Targaryen should remain on the throne. But which Targaryen would be suit the needs of the kingdom and best perform their duties bringing peace and prosperity to Westeros. This is the question that had the small council in a dead lock, that and personal greed which prevented members of the council from seeing beyond their own personal goals.

When it came to the question of who should sit on the throne there was a great divide as to who the best possible candidate would be. But if you asked Tylar Arryn the question was a simple one. Tyler Arryn was a traditional man and an honorable one, if one was to ask him then his choice was Rhaegar Targaryen. Of course this was all based on old succession laws that nobody seemed to care about anymore. Now everyone was making their moves playing the game in hopes of winning. This is a dangerous game to play, there is only two options you win or you die that's it.

Of course some council members said that they needed a king that would rule for a long time and they used Rhaegar's failing health as an excuse not to vote for him. In true his health wasn't a valid excuse not to vote for him, if he became king he would have enough time to mentor his son and prepare him to rule once Rhaegar departed this world. But the queen didn't want to lose power and everyone else had their own dreams of power.

Lord Paramount Tylar Arryn has been the master-at-arms on the small council for a year now, while no had approached him to try and sway his loyalty yet he knew it was only a matter of time as the clouds of war gathered over Westeros. Eventually the claimants would press their claim as they were already growing tired with the lack of action by the small council.

Lord Arryn was in the court yard watching his son the young Ashter Arryn play in the gardens of the red keep. Accompanying Lord Arryn was Aegon Blackfyre, his ward who he consulted and trained in every aspect. Lord Arryn spoke to the young Aston.

" you haven't been slacking in your traing have you?"

Lord Arryn's voice turning to a serious tone.
" I fear that you may need those skills with the sword soon."

While Lord Arryn didn't play the game himself he knew how it was played. The importance of allies and spies and when to make a move.

" Aegon I want you to go to training grounds. You need the practice."

[Elepis]

The Red Manse, King's Landing

"Lord" Martyn Sand, Master of Laws, the "Sand Snake"

Obreyn was right, it is a ship-pile of a city Maryn Sand leaned against his spear on the balcony of the "Red Manse", his official residence in King's Landing, a great cuboid block of sand stone, decorated with arches and crenelations. Martyn had lived here for five years and he had grown to like it. The city was a different matter. Sunspear, the Water Gardens, Plankytown he would rather be in any of them than this city. However his place was here, this was where the "game" was played and he loved the "game" more than wine, fighting, men and women, which were his other favourite things. Unless the capital moved hundreds of miles south he would have to stay here, in his Red Manse.

He had been offered a tower in the Red Keep but everywhere in the Red Keep there were ears, and daggers. In the Red Keep, there was an equal chance of being murdered in your sleep or being spied upon. Neither of which Martyn liked the sound of. So when he arrived in the city to serve King Aegon VII, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Martyn bought and old Manse, which had apparently belonged to one of the Imp's whores, razed it and built his own, more Dornish one. It was based off his favourite corner of the Water Gardens. It was not near as nice as the original but it was the best he could do in this city.

In his finger he twirled a paper note that one of his "vipers" had dropped off. It was news from the Grand Council, they wanted more tax, and who was the person to give it to them, why the poor, who could barely afford to live as it is. Martyn thought the Grand Council should have been scrapped years ago. In the Free Cities, they had no Kings and they were rich and powerful, Martyn though the Small Council could do a much better job at running Westeros than some interbred boy sitting on that ugly iron chair. After all, the members of the Small Council had proven themselves able, or they would have been dismissed or killed quickly. All a king could prove was that he came out of the right birth canal, and even that was in doubt a lot these days.

Martyn was looking at the fountain and herbs in the central square of his Manse from the balcony of his solar when there was a knock on the door. Maryn called the man in and was greeted by the blond haired and blue eyed face of Quentyn Sand, the bastard of Moonwoody and his man on the small council. Behind him stood a Martell guard, his hand resting on a sharp Kilij sword. Quentyn bowed his head and said "My lord, I have news from the Grand Council-" he was cut off by Martyn "They want to raise taxes again and they haven't decided on a king again". Quentyn looked momentarily confused "How do you know that, I was the first Grand Council member to leave the Keep". Martyn laughed "First Council Member, not the first person."

[Novae Vitae]

Ser Cerion Lannister
The Yellow Stag, King's Landing

"Politics is dreadful work, girls," Cerion said, the twins curled on his chest. "That's why I always come here, just for you two, when all my dreadful work is done." He gave the girls a grin, running his hands through their long, raven hair.

"If politics is dreadful, why do you do it?" asked the smart one. She used one of her hands to pull Cerion's head towards hers while the other was used to push herself up on his arm.

"For the power," Cerion replied, pulling the woman closer to him. Her hugged her full bosom against his chest. "For the women." He opened his mouth to kiss her . . .

. . . but the comelier one kissed his neck, and his head turned. "There's more than one here," she said, working her way up his neck. "Perhaps you'd like to spend time with me, for once."

"He just likes me better," the smart one said. She put her leg over Cerion and turned his body. "Isn't that right, my lord?" the smart one asked, on top of him.

"I'm afraid that I can't say," Cerion said. The smart one pouted, but the comelier one gave an angelic laugh of derision. "If I had to choose . . ." Cerion began, looking between the two women.

". . . I tell the man that made me to fuck himself, and I'd take you both." Cerion pulled the comelier one closer and kissed her, then turned to the smart one and kissed her, then leaned back and them kiss him.

Robb Lannister, Master of Coins
The Red Keep, King's Landing

"It's a remarkable throne, Your Grace," Robb said, entering the hall, clutching a ledger book to his side. His stunted legs made his approach a slow one, but he approached nonetheless.

"Your Grace, my lord," Robb said when he had at last arrived to the Tullys. "I am not surprised to find you here. It must be hard to remember having once stood here with your love, Your Grace. I lament your suffering."

Robb turned to Catelyn's brother. "I must confess, my lord, that I came to speak with Her Grace. It's not a matter of offense, my lord, it is simply that I have council business to address with Her Grace. I hope that you do not mind."

Robb turned back to Catelyn, raising a once-golden eyebrow to she how she would react.

Serelle Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West

"You are selling me like a common whore!" Serelle roared, throwing her goblet at her father. The aged Lord Tyrion had just enough time to shift his bald, speckled head to avoid the strike. The goblet slammed against the wall and fell to the ground with resolve.

"You said the same when I promised you to Lord Lorch," her father replied. His great beard, grey with golden flecks, shifted as he spoke, all the way down to his waist. "Now you are to be Lady of the Riverlands."

"I want to be Lady of the West!" Serelle replied with a hiss. "By the gods, Father, is it too much to ask that you simply name me a lady in my own right? The smallest parcel of land would suffice!" Serelle's long, thick-made hair rippled down her back, the endless ringlets catching the light of the candles as though each strand was made of the thinnest gold.

"It is not your place!" her father roared in reply. She reclined, her emerald eyes raging in a dark, green storm. "It is not your place," her father repeated, softer, though it hurt more. "You ruled Lord Lorch's court. Now you may rule Lord Tully's. Your brother may one day be king, and we will need strong allies."

"Then why did you send me to Lorch?" Serelle demanded, refusing to call that bastard by his given name. "What a weak-minded fool, Lorch! It was fool's play to control him, so long as I spread my legs. And I thank the gods that a child did not quicken in my belly, for I would have had to remain in his damned hall for all my life, even after he had died!"

"And what convenience that he did, for you," her father replied. "It has been settled, Serelle. You will ride to Riverrun on the morrow. I have already sent a raven to Lord Tully, explaining to him that remaining in the Westerlands has caused you great pain over the loss of your husband and that you wish to tour the Riverlands, which you have always thought to be beautiful, starting with Riverrun. You cannot change this, Serelle."

"I will send a man after the raven," Serelle said, her skin pulled hard over her sharp cheek bones . . . but her tone softer, weaker.

"No man can ride as fast as a raven flies," her father replied.

"Then right to Lord Tully, and tell him that I have fallen gravely ill," Serelle suggested, her face itself weakening.

"And should Lord Tully hear that you are not?" her father demanded, his voice rising.

"Then I will have to ride for Riverrun, I suppose!" Serelle said, giving her father a his of derision. She wheeled on her shoes and, collecting her vast robes in her hand, stormed from his room, knowing that--for the second time--her fate was sealed.

Ser Tywin Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West

"Lord Morshall, welcome," Tywin said as the young man approached. Gods, how he was a tower! Tywin was a tall man, a hair above six feet, but Lord Morshall was a giant to even him. Even Ser Loren, who was training in the yard and stood six-and-a-quarter feet tall, turned his hand upward to look at the man's head.

"What brings you here, Lord Morshall?" Tywin inquired. It make little matter, however. The Lord of Castamere was a beast of a man, and war was soon approaching. Armored in plate and at the head of a van, a greatsword and shield on this man, there would be no stopping the Lannister army. And woe to any man that tried to invade the Westerlands, for Tywin knew how agonizing it would be to fight inch-by-inch against such a giant.

[Argentarino]

Lord Quentyn of House Linster, Evenfall Hall, The Sapphire Island

Lord Quentyn Linster stood at the top of one of the towers that ringed Evenfall Hall, staring at the waves crashing against the base of the island. Quentyn had ruled Evenfall Hall and the Sapphire Island - formerly the Island of Tarth - for about four years, since he was of twenty years. In that time, he had gone from anonymous lordling to one of the most influential men in the Stormlands. It was not because of some remarkable feat - though the young lord was a renowned jouster and warrior, and he had made a bit of a name for himself in Stormlander tourneys - but because of the woman he was married to, and what that alliance stood for. Quentyn heard a rustle behind him and smiled. "You know, if you were an assassin, you would have been dead just now..." he turned to face the young woman. Lady Jeyne Linster, the youngest daughter of House Swann, stood in front of him, and she let out a sigh. "Husband, if I had wanted to kill you, do you think I would have let you hear me?" The Lady of Evenfall Hall was no doubt more intelligent than her husband, and it was a common scene in Evenfall to see the two sparring with words and wit. There was no love in this marriage, but there was a mutual respect which was perhaps the closest thing these two could ever accomplish that would be similar to something as luxurious as love. Quentyn respected Jeyne for her intelligence, and Jeyne respected Quentyn for his kindness towards her and - most importantly - his ambitions for his young House.

"A storm is about to hit our island, my lady. Do you think your House is prepared for storms as well as us?" Quentyn asked Jeyne. "I have made inquiries to my father...it appears that nothing has changed in the mainland. My father, like the rest of our House, is cautious. He does not want to plunge the Stormlands into a war with the B-" Quentyn coughed loudly, interrupting Lady Jeyne, discreetly motioning towards a servant girl who was bringing wine up to the Lord and Lady of Evenfall. The couple had an unspoken rule: Do not talk of politics with or near anyone outside the family. As the servant girl departed, they continued to converse. "Jeyne, if we are going to protect the Faith from the heathens, we need to make a stand. Lord Davos will no doubt make a reach for the Iron Throne during this deadlock in the Small Council, and that means more movements from the R'hollor bastards. We can't allow them to become more stronger. We need support. I do not hold any political capital outside of the Stormlands. Your father, your whole House...they have strings in King's Landing...particularly in the Sept of Baelor...specifically with the High Septon." Lady Jeyne shook her head. "You know my father will never endanger himself by writing such a letter. It has to come from you. You underestimate yourself, Lord Husband. Your lack of political capital can be interpreted as being...humble, a quality this High Septon seems particularly fond of in the nobility. Reach out to him. See what can be accomplished."

As she was about to leave her husband to his thoughts, Jeyne stopped. "There is one more thing you should know...I am pregnant. I've known for a few weeks now. Don't destroy us." Lord Quentyn furrowed his brow. The stakes had just been raised. His original plan would have to be changed. It was too risky to write to the High Septon now. No, he needed to reach out to someone who had influence in the Faith, yet had enough animosity towards the Baratheons to be a proven ally...and an idea came to him. Who better to write to than a Targaryen...
Later that night, Quentyn stuck a letter to a raven and sent it on its way to King's Landing, to the Sept of Baelor.

To the Most Devout Jacerys of the House Targaryen,
I write to you in humility and concern for the state of the Faith in the Stormlands. My liege lord, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and contender to the Iron Throne, Lord Davos, continues to strengthen the heathen R'hollor cult, and those lords and smallfolk who keep the Faith of the Seven are ridiculed or worse. In time, we will need help from the High Septon and, if need be, the might of the Dragon. Keep us in your prayers.
Lord Quentyn of House Linster, Lord of Evenfall Hall
"Strength in the Sea"

[Givious]

Daenerys Targaryen
Riverroad outside Riverrun
0 Days

The horses gained speed as they approached their destination, Riverrun. At the head of the riders was Daenerys Targaryen atop her white Palfrey, her hair lose with the wind, whipping back almost like a banner. She was dressed for riding, but she still had a beauty about her. As she approached the gates of Riverrun she was met with some knights, a small party welcoming them to the city. Before the knight can get anything out however, Daenerys cuts him off.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Aemon Targaryen. I am here by the request of my grandfather and your lord liege. Please, take me to see Lord Tully."

[Diliath]

Jacaerion Brightflame, Captain of the city watch of King's Landing and pretender to Summerhall, King's Landing, 0 days.

Jacaerion dodged the sword and strook back. The goldcloak before him was thrown from his horse by the blow. Jacaerion had no time to look around as another man filled the position before him, his word approaching Jacaerion's head. The sound of metal hitting metal could be heard as Jacaerion parried the smash before he flung him from his horse. Jacaerion was now able to look around. The field was full of fighting goldcloaks but he saw that his ones were slowly winning the battle. Their formtions were gone but they showed progress, not a single one was running. As the front moved forward gathered Jacaerion a small band of mounted loyalists and rode to the sides of the army. He was a recognizable figure with his platinum-golden hair, his red cuirass and his dragon pauldrons. On each flank were 100 of his lancers positioned that he now ordered to prepare to ride. "Charge!", with this word rode Jacaerion forward and led the charge. The smashing of the cavalry charges against the enemy infantry was enormous. The people on the walls cheered as Jacaerion's enemies broke under the double charge. Jacaerion was submerged into the combat of sweat, steel and cloaks and fept foughting for a quarter until he saw that his victory was clear. The other goldcloak group had surrendered. Jacaerion removed his helmet and washed the sweat from his head. The weekly practice battles became harder and harder to win as all men proved to become better every week. Servants now walked around the field, collecting the bunted weapons that were used for the battles, which were so fierce that some people died even when blunted weapons were used. That did not matter, they were aways replaced easily as Jacaerion's goldcloak company showed to be an excellent way to become a skilled warrior for the people of King's Landing. While Jacaerion rode towards the city gate under the sound of cheering from the citizenry did he think back to the moment he and his men ha joint the goldcloaks a year earlier. With 700 trained and experienced men at his back had he easily become goldcloak captain and had he been able to properly train his other 500 men. Besides normal, improved training had he also added weekly battles in the fields outside the city or inside the streets of Flea Bottom. This had made his 1200 men an effective battle unit which could prove important in the turbulent times that were all around. Jacaerion now looked up as he rode trough the city gates, where his real sword was handed over to him. Behind him rode his 500 mounted goldcloaks that had formed a colonne. When the colonne reached the Western city Barracks decided Jacaerion to rode onward towards the Red Keep, followed by ten guards, in order to see wether the Grand Council had different voting result than the past time. Jacaerion looked at the Red Keep while he approached it. It was the only beautiful thing rising up from the dirty city. Jacaerion could enter the Keep without problem, both due to his Targaryen blood and his position as goldcloak captain. Whe he reached the Grand council chamber was he not suprised to see that the result of the voting was the same as always, but it still angered him as he needed a king that could officially grant him Summerhall. He was initially planning to meet his father in the Keep but when he heard that he was busy did he decide to go back to the Western Barracks, he had still a lot to do. Soon could man hear the sound of horses riding back into the city.

Bryce 'Greybird' Caron, lord of Nightsong, Lord of the Marchers, regent of Summerhall, King's Landing, 0 days.

"...It is true you have that agricultural knowledge, right?" "Yes mylord, just like everybody else in my family." anwered Ser Ambrose Butterwell on the other side of the table. "Good, I'll then name you new master of agriculture in the Marches that are placed under house Caron and you'll be stewart of Summerhall until Jacaerion takes resdence there. You'll get 30% of all wealth your agricultural creates for my family. You'll get all the funds you need but if you don't pay them back three years after you've received them will you be killed." The Butterwell nodded and Bryce handed him the contract that Ambrose directly signed. "You can leave now, Ser, you'll have a lot to do. You can ask my wife for funds once you have reached the Marches." said Bryce. Ambrose bowed and left the room. Bryce leaned back in his chair and took a report from the pile that was lying next to him. The Grand Council had failed again to choose a new king. Bryce slightly smiled, sooner or later would the rule ofthe council collapse and the peace with it. Claimants would fight eachother for the throne and house Caron would emerge from the darkness of the war. It was a scenario that Bryce liked but the war was only good if it started between the right people at the right place. The second report was a bad one for Bryce, a marriage between house Wyl and house Martell had taken place, just now the relations with house Martell had become better. Bryce rose from his chair and took his yellow mantle full of nightingales. Bryce knew that he was an uncommon sight in the Keep with his simple grey clothes, with his mantle, belt and sigil ring as only exceptions. Another uncommon thing was the fact that he had not a single soldier of his house in the city, just because his son possessed 1200 men in the city and because Bryce needed all his men in the marches now war with house Wyl was close. The Baratheons had done him a great favour by training his and his father's troops. Bryce was sure his army would prove worth its cost in battle against the Dornishmen. Bryce walked to the left side of his room where a map of Westeros hang. All his plans were coming together. All his works until now had served only one goal, and he was close. From the moment he had become lord of Nightsong had he gained power, his marriage to a Lannister, the reconsruction of Summerhall, the expansion of Nightsong, the allegiance of house Aelör, the Baratheon army reforms, the marriages with Martells, Yronwoods and Peakes, Jacaerion becoming goldcloak captain, the creation of Pearse as Hammer of the Marches, the alliance with house Caron, the coming war with Wyl, the new agricultural project, his presence in King's Landing and his involvement in the mall Council, everything had served the same purpose. Only a few marriages had to be arranged, only a few titles gained, only a few places conquered and only the right king placed upon the throne. And of course a war. Bryce walked to his desk and started to write a few letters, in preparation to many more to come.

To lord Aran Selmy of Harvest Hall

Greetings, mylord. I come with words that will please you if I am right. Every lord in the Reach and Stormlands know that you are heirless as you only have your daughter Alicent as descendant. Still have none asked to marry her and I fear for the end of your house, it is for that reason that I offer you my bastard son Pearse Storm. He will marry Alicent with your blessing and he will give their children the name Selmy, so that the great house of ser Barristan will never die out. This marriage will also create an enduring friendship between our houses.
I hope for a positive reply

signed

Bryce Caron, lord of the Marches, lord of Nightsong

To lord paramount Davos Baratheon of Storm's End

Greetings, lord of Storms. I write you with a request, the first one in its like from my house to yours. House Caron has stand besides house Baratheon since the Age of Heroes, it is not for nothing that Maester Yandel stated: "Nightsong has been sworn to Storm's End since time immemorial". Our lords Rolland and Bryce have fought on the side of Stannis, our house has given our lands up to remain loyal to Stannis. It is in this light that I ask for a marriage between my son and heir Lyonel Caron and your daughter Daenerys Baratheon. This marriage would further improve the relations between our houses and would secure the loyalty of the Marches towards Storm's End forever. I hope for a positive reply.

signed

Bryce Caron, lord of the Marches, lord of Nightsong

To Lord Shoryn Aelör of Blackhaven

Greetings, mylord. I come with words that will please you if I am right. I was thinking of a marriage between my daughter Mylenda and your son and heir Rendyll Aelör. This marriage will also create an enduring friendship between our houses and would connect our already friended houses by blood.
I hope for a positive reply

signed

Bryce Caron, lord of the Marches, lord of Nightsong

Bryce sealed the letters and had them sent to the people for whom they were ment. He had for everyone both a plan for the scenario that would take place if they either accepted or denied his offers. Bryce would remain in King's Landing to improve Jacaerion's and house Caron's position before he would go to the Marches in der to fight house Wyl and Vulture's Roost. He was gaining power and he was not planning to stop gaining it.

Jeyne Caron nee Lannister, Nightsong, 0 days.

Jeyne yawned as she stood up to look to the noise outside. She was very tired once again as she had worked the whole day to govern Nightsong. She looked trough the tower wndow to seek the source of the noise and she saw a few hundred men in Dornish clothes entering the castle. One immidiately catched Jeyne's eye, a young, for a Dornishman pale, man that was embracing Lyonel. Gwyneth Yronwood, her former nephew-in-law. He was sent by Bryce with some Caron men into the Red Mountains to make detailed maps of the region and to get support for house Caron there. Gwyneth was a friend to Lyonel and was not directly in the line of succession of house Yronwood of Yronwood. Gwyneth would act as Vulture King and later as lord of Vulture's Roost in Bryce's plans. Jeyne turned around and walked down the stairs in order to meet Gwyneth. When she arrived downstairs was Gwyneth already inside, laughing to Lyonel. Jeyne approached the two young men and said:"Greetings, Ser Gwyneth, I hope your journey went well and was full of pleasure. I welcome you in my home and in my hart. Can I offer you some refreshments." Gwyneth slightly smiled as he answered:"Thank you Mylady, I'm honoured by your warm welcome, but the refreshments can wait. I guess the courtesies are done now?" Jeyne remembered that the young man had been in the rude Red Mountains, only surrounded by soldiers. "That's fine, Ser, what are the results of your investigation, if I may ask?" Gwyneth ordered some of his men to come closer that offered Jeyne and Lyonel some in leather wrapped papers. "Maps of the Red Mountains, part by part. A map indicating the bigger Dornish troop concentrations, a plan of Vulture's Roost and a terrain map." Jeyne was very happy when she pulled out one of the maps and saw all details. It seemed it had been worth the costs of sending the expedition. "Thank you, Ser Gwyneth, house Caron is forever in your dept. How went the other part of your missin?" "Very well, 40 men have pledged allegiance to me, more then expected." Jeyne nodded but couldn't speak as Lyonel did:"Very well then, I suggest we look at the maps again tomorrow so we can adjust the plans of father if needed. Until then am I intrested in your story, Gwyneth." Jeyne smiled while the young men sat down and left them to go upstair with the maps. Later that night left a raven to King's Landing to inform Bryce of the happenings and after that was Jeyne finally able to sleep.

[Asyir]

Ser Emmittyn Aelör, Heir to Blackhaven
Blackhaven Keep, Aelör Holdings
Dornish Marshes, The Stormlands:

---

Emmittyn marched up the large stone stairway, his feet like thunder as he trudged bitterly up the stairs. The stairway was of large granite that give it a jet black appearance. At the peak of the stairs, was the family quarters, and this was were Emmittyn knew his brother Willhelm would be.

Willhelm was a capable warrior. He was not the best nor brightest of the three brothers, but he had enough charm and grace to make him a formidable foe. He was not a politician, far from it, but was more genuine and honest. He was an excellent bowman an rider, often times utilizing the both of them. Most importantly, he had courage, something many oftentimes don't possess.

Emmittyn approached the door of Willhelm's room, and gave a slight knock. "Brother? Are you in there?"

Emmittyn waited for a few seconds, until Willhelm responded. "Yes. Come right in brother."

Emmittyn swung the door open to see Willhelm donning some leather padding. "Just getting ready to assist Ser Garwall in the training grounds today. Did the council go as planned?"

"No. That's why I came up to speak with you. We have a pressing issue arising. Father is becoming more spastic with age. He plans on asking Lord Caron the assist us in a coming war with House Wyl," Emmittyn informed Willhelm, whom only gave brief nods and shrugs. "I was hoping that we may diffuse the situation before it explodes into open warfare between the two houses."

"I see. What is it that you need me to do brother?" Willhelm asked.

"I need you to ride to Wyl and attempt to get them to return our lands back. Take twenty horsemen. If they do not wish to return what is rightfully ours, notify me, and I will seek out Lird Baratheon, or perhaps even the accursed Martells."

Willhelm bowed deeply,"yes brother. I will set out for Wyl on the marrow."

"Good. Let us hope this works. Otherwise the Marshes will be red with blood."

---

Lord Shoryn Aelör, Lord of Blackhaven
Blackhaven Keep, Aelör Holdings
Dornish Marshes, The Stormlands:

---

Lord Shoryn sat alone in his solar, listening to the wind howl from his open windows. It was a bright and sunny day from the looks of it, yet Shoryn was in a sour mood, partially over his sons passiveness, and his uncles stern policies. Shoryn was angered over the loss of land, as he had been for nearly twenty years.

A knock at the door disturbed Shoryn from his thoughts. "Milord it is me, Aemon, some messages have arrived. One is from Lord Bryce Caron."

"Do come in Maester, I am interested as to what Lord Caron has sent."

Aemon entered the large solar, and with a bow placed the letter upon Shoryn's large desk. Shoryn broke the seal and opened it, his eyes studying every stroke of ink. Finally after some time, he took out some parchment, and wrote:

To Lord Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong,

It is acceptable that Rendyll marry your daughter. The lad is about to be knighted, and I'm sure my son Emmittyn wouldn't mind the marriage pact either. I am overjoyed by this over. I thank you for the opportunity. We are forever your vassals. However, as you well know, House Wyl and my house have not gotten along. I want to take back what is mine from them. I am partially writing this letter to ask for your support. I look forward to getting your response.

Signed, Lord Shoryn Aelör, The Lord of Blackhaven

"Here Maester send this to Lord Caron immediately."

"Yes sire."

[Great Nepal]

POV: Sarsah Greyjoy
Castle of Pyke, Day 0
Its so not fair that I have to wake up and train while Terren gets to sleep until he wakes up asking for his milk before going back to sleep again, its not like I want to sleep in all day but I have friends in the city, I want to get out of this damn castle without my grand fathers guard escorting me all the time. When I heard my father's story about how he commanded a fleet raiding the free city, I may have said I want to learn how to fight like him and I do but I didn't mean I want Hazrak shouting at me about how I was holding a sword wrong or whatever the entire day. Oh Hazrak, he is a Meereenese swordsman my grand father managed to find - I doubt there is anyone in Essos he doesn't know. He said he spent many years there, and I heard he used to command a unified army of all Essos which he lead from a dragon made of solid ice but he gave it all up to return to Iron Islands where his family needed him; he doesn't say so obviously but that's what my friend Cayde said so its true.

"One foot forward and one at the back, that gives more push which knocks off the head", Hazrak said as my sword got stuck in the mannequins neck rather than slicking through it and of course like always he pulled out his sword and showed me how its done but I'm not stupid I know that blade is better - I trued to cut a chicken with my sword and it doesn't go through, how can people cut up other people if my sword doesn't even cut a chicken?

"That's not fair, your sword is better!" I protested just as my grandfather walked towards the castle with my dad alongside him before running to him. I think I made my case quite well sitting on my grandfather's arm, Hazrak was beating me in sword practice because he had a real sword so only way this grave injustice could be put right was if I got my own sword crafted by the finest Blacksmith - Cayde's father obviously. Grandfather Loron, like the true king he his considered my argument as he picked up the sword running it through his finger and it didn't bleed - see I was right, the whole thing was a sham.

"Why does she have this dulled sword, which is rusty if I may add" my grandfather questioned my father who didn't waste a moment in reminding us that I injured coal boy's leg just two weeks ago - he's just making a big deal about it though; the boy was fine, he was fixed in like an hour and he could walk before the day was over, my dad's just making a big deal out of this to avoid buying me a new sword. Before I could protest my case however grandfather already showed he was on my side, "you almost poked your sister's eyes out with a sword when practising", he said to my father before promising that I would have my own real sword before tomorrow. See my grandfather is the best, which is what I told him with a kiss.

As we entered the hall, he let me down and told me to go play but I am pretty sure I saw uncle Zandren in the room, I say uncle because my father says thats what I am supposed to call him but he's basically my older brother and he totally understands what its like to be with my dad - just like how he didn't want to give me a real sword he doesn't want Zandren leading an army abroad. Zandren says its because Redkar is scared that he will be good at it but I dont think so, my father's always too overprotective. He thinks I'll get taken or whatever even when I am just going down to the port and when I managed to evade the royal escort to stay out late he was ready to execute those two men for kidnapping me, good thing I showed up to stop him. Anyways Zandren is really nice, he even gave me his sword once - that was the day when the whole coalboy incident happened.

I walked out of the room, leaving the three of them to talk but I wasn't going anywhere... whenever the three of them meet there's always a argument. Last year, feast was so ruined when Zandren stormed off claiming he was old enough and didn't need protection of his brother and that he would go to Essos and build his destiny like grandfather did. It was all fine though, he came back and in the mess I actually managed to find a ship in the port and sailed out with my friends - best two hours ever! At least it was before my father came looking. Anyways I step to one of the crawlways - there are like millions of these everywhere in the castle if you know where to look, to narrow for most adults but for me its just fine. I listen and as always there is argument, this time its my grandfather yelling glory and birthright instead of Zandren though - apparently they want him to sail to Dorne for some alliance. Eventually my grandfather plays his triumph card; if Zandren succeed he will get thirty ships for his battle. Thats what Zandren has been wanting all this time, it must be really dangerous mission if grandfather had to promise all thirty ships but I have to wait till they all leave before asking him about it - I dont want them knowing I can listen in on all their talks.

Eventually I managed to corner Zandren, he was in his room packing... maybe he was going to Essos, he did say he wanted to go there but when would I see him again? Although when I asked him, he said he wasn't going to Essos just to Sunspear for something very important. "When will you be back", I ask him but the answer is just soon, but at least I get a kiss and his horse while he's gone. Few hours later though we were in port, waving him away on a ship loaded with gifts apparently for the weeding, although it looks too much - I never got that much gift...

[Lorellion]

Queen Catelyn Stormfyre
King's Landing
The Red Keep

Catelyn swiveled her head around to look at Robb before turning back around to face the throne. "Lord Robb, it is always a pleasure," she said only somewhat meaning it. Robb Lannister was one of the few men in the capital she did not entirely despise. He was clever and took after the Imp in more than one way. To say she respected him, however, did not mean she trusted him. How much did he hear? Without turning around, she directed her next comment to her brother. "Brynden, leave us."

"Of course Your Grace." Brynden nodded and then bowed slightly to Robb. "My lord." Without saying another word, he left the gallery.

"Even without a king to sit upon it, the throne is still wondrous. I am still reminded of the many days I watched my beloved husband rule from that chair. It just emanates majesty." In reality, she thought the throne was quite ugly and haphazard. Truly the work of men. She turned to face him.

"But forgive my reminiscing. You said you had council information to discuss?"

Edymn Tully
Riverrun
Great Hall

When Edmyn Tully was informed of Daenerys Targaryen's arrival, he dropped what he was doing and immediately commanded his servants to bring her to the Great Hall. He dressed himself in his finest robes before descending his tower and making his way to the Great Hall. He sat upon his chair, a high-backed stone chair with a trout engraved upon the top with his sister to his right and Maester Thaeron to his left.

When Daenerys entered, he rose. He was momentarily stunned by her beauty until finally he greeted her. "My lady. It is an honor to have you here in Riverrun. My father is currently ill, but hopefully he shall be able to join us for the feast tonight." He paused.

The hall of Riverrun was very modest and simple. It was nothing compared to what Daenerys had seen further south and she seemed to be taking In the room with contempt. Edmyn cleared his throat. "I'm sure you are tired from your journey. I will have my servants escort you to your quarters and we can talk further at dinner tonight." He gave his best lordly smile but felt butterflies forming in his stomach. She is more beautiful than I had even imagined.

[Alotopia]

Lord Paramount Mace Tyrell
Highgarden

"Fools! All of them!" Mace said as he looked over the message from King's Landing, "Do they want the Realm to devolve into war? Two years with no King, practically run by the Small Council! The Small Council commands no armies, cannot put down rebellions, cannot lead men! They expect us to remain loyal as the petty Grand Council squabbles over who is to be King. I have half a mind to march to King's Landing and install someone as King!" He laughed as Oberyn entered the room Mace was in...

"Brother! News from the Capital?" Oberyn said has he plopped down in the chair across for Mace...

"Yes, it seems we still have no King... Two years after the last King died..." Mace responded shaking his head, "We need a strong King to put everyone back into their places and to put the Iron Islands to the sword..."

"Who would you support for the Crown? Someone who would no doubt increase our standing in the realm?" Oberyn said as he took the message from Mace and read over it...

"Tywin is married to our sister and I believe he would be a good King. He would obviously make the Tyrells an important part of his council, but he has no viable claim to the Throne... If he was made King, we might have to support him with our banners... But the Baratheons wouldn't be too bad to support either. They have a claim on the Throne by Robert Baratheon... But the other claimants, one is a sick old man and the other is a woman from the Riverlands! A woman sitting on the Iron Throne?! Not in my lifetime!" He laughed, poking fun at the former Queen who now seeks the throne for herself, "Well whoever becomes King need to sack most of the Small Council and replace them with people loyal to him or his supporters. Especially the Dornish... Cowards that hide in their desert during the Long Night..."

"Tis be true... we shall see, my lord. We shall see..." Oberyn said...

[Novae Vitae]

Robb Lannister
The Red Keep, King's Landing

"There was no harm done, Your Grace," Robb replied. "I have nearly seen sixty years. To forget them all would kill me just as much as it would kill you to forget your past." Robb looked up at the throne. "Marvelous," he whispered.

Horrendous, he thought. He clutched the ledger tighter to his side, as though the numbers would shield him. The Iron Throne had destroyed so many lives, ended so many times of peace and prosperity. Now it seemed as though it might do so again.

"I did come with council matters," Robb concurred, "but not from my own. The small council does little and less these days. Did you know that Rhaegar Targaryen does not even reside within the castle? I suppose that that is just of him. He has no king to be a Hand to. If only he had taken the reins of rule, perhaps he would have been king already."

Robb shrugged his shoulders. "It matters little. If Rhaegar Targaryen wanted to be king, he should have seized the reins when he had the chance. Now, we have been two years kingless, and all the while a dragon rider--a dragon rider, no less!--has sat and done less than I have, and I assure you, Your Grace, that I have had very little to do." He gave a chuckle to the air, to lighten the mood of the horrible picture that he had painted.

"I believe that you know why I have come, Your Grace," Robb said. "I will not ask anything of you, but I will tell you that making Tywin king would mean that Jaime will be king after him. And, as such, he would need a queen. It may not be you, Your Grace, but no one said that another Tully may not take your place. If, of course, the voting should turn against you."

Ser Jaime Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West

"Higher," Loren hissed as his sword descended. Jaime tried to raise his sword higher, but Loren was quick to outmaneuver him as he struggle to do so.

"What did Gerion teach you?" Loren demanded in exasperation. He stepped back and hefted his shield, a huge heater shield on his arm. It was so vast that it covered him from head to knee, and was made of a heavy oak. It was so large that Jaime could not use it for more than three or four minutes, lest he collapse. Loren used it while wielding a steel replica of Lion's Wrath in heavy armor, an armor similar to what Jaime trained in.

"How to whore," Jaime replied with a grin. He knew it would stab at Loren the Chaste, and the thought of that made Jaime laugh aloud. Loren closed on him in the darkness, and Jaime felt a blade--dulled but deadly--resting on his unprotected neck. Then Loren spun, and its point was on his side. Then Loren spun again, as light as air even in armor, and swiped Jaime from his feet with a slash to the calves.

"Your whores didn't save you," Loren remarked as Jaime wobbled on the ground. "You fight well enough when you don't have armor holding you down, but when you do you wobble on the ground like a beached fish. You'dn't last a minute in the field."

"Help me up!" Jaime shouted, deep in the bowels of the Rock. He understood now why his grandfather had him practice with Loren here. It did no good to see the heir to the Rock wobbling on the ground.

"Help yourself," Loren replied. He towered over Jaime, decked in armor from head to heel, the great heater shield on one side and his longsword on the other. To Jaime, it seemed impossible that he could move, but Loren wasn't even tired.

Jaime groaned. He was going to fuck Loren for this. He tightened the muscles in his stomach and pressed his shield to the ground, rolling onto it to reach his knees . . .

. . . but Loren kicked him back onto his back, effortlessly. "You exposed your neck," he remarked. "Try again." Jaime hissed at him internally and scowled externally, but he ignored him for the most part and dug his sword's point into the ground, pulling himself up with it.

"Your heart would be stabbed through in a second," Loren remarked, placing his point on Jaime's breast plate and pushing him back down. "You'd be dead by now, but keep trying anyway."

Jaime cursed under his breath, hoping Loren would hear. If he did, he didn't show it, and he let Jaime roll on the ground as he struggled about. That gave Jaime a thought, and he tightened his stomach again as he used the slope of the cavern to roll further, further, further from Loren. He learn Loren pursuing, but he surged to his knee in time to raise his shield, which caught Loren's blow.

Then Jaime surged to his feet, aiming a stab at Loren's chest. Loren retreated with grace, then twirled his sword in his hand to bring about a swing toward Jaime's head. Jaime caught the blow with his sword, but Loren charged forward, ramming into Jaime's chest with his massive shield. Jaime stumbled back, using the point of his sword to hold his balance . . .

. . . but Loren's edge found Jaime's neck. "Try again," Loren hissed.

[Moth-Gar]

Darrik "The Hammer" Morshall, Lord of Castamere, inside of Casterly Rock

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Tywin" he said humbly to his liege lord's son, The Iron Lion as he is called. He looked a bit downward, seeing as, their height difference was significant to one another. "I came here to talk Lord Tyrion or to you, Lord Tywin, for a possible marriage or betrothal. If you wish, we may discuss this matter somewhere more private." As Darrik spoke with Tywin Lannister, his men waited patiently and vigilantly for their Lord to finish his business. Although somewhat new, House Morshall's men were disciplined yet self ware, loyal yet outspoken, this was how Darrik and Gerrad trained their men to be, independent, strong and reliable.

Derrick and Tesha Morshall, Castamere
Derrick was busy studying with Luras Chaffton the basics of math and science, something that Derrick excelled in but where Darrik was modest. Derrick wasn't always like his brother, he didn't have the sort of fondness that Darrik had with swords or shields, he preferred reading and studying. While studying, Tesha was eating her food with her Septa, although she was eating fast and messy, something like her brother Darrik. "Tesha, stop stuffing your mouth and eat properly" said the Septa with a harsh tone. Tesha relented, and soon organized herself, although she didn't like it. Tesha, like Darrik, was unusually fond of fighting and training, but this was no problem to Darrik since he has plans to train Tesha when she grew older, but until then, Tesha would have to suffer the time with her Septa.

[Novae Vitae]

Ser Tywin Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West

"Indeed, Lord Morshall," Tywin said. He did not want to spend an more second than was necessary talking beneath a man--what an image it must have sent! "Please, come with me. Your men will find quartering the garrison."

Tywin led Lord Morshall to his private study, not wishing to concern his father with this matter . . . and, further, hoping that he may be able to take a grab at the reins of power the Lord of Castamere was offering him.

Tywin took a seat behind a heavy oaken desk, then gestured to a chair across from him. "Please, sit, my lord," Tywin said. "Tell me, what is it that you would like to discuss specifically? Who wed to whom?"

[Moth-Gar]

Darrik "The Hammer" Morshall, Lord of Castamere, inside of Casterly Rock

Darrik to a seat in front of Lord Tywin, and thanked him, saying "Thank you Lord Tywin", then continued with "As you know, my lord, that I am young and unwed, but I will be honest with you" pausing for a minute, then finally said "I think Joanna is a beautiful girl, and I wish to wed her to me, if my Lord would allow me". His heart was beating fast, he was somewhat nervous to Tywin Lannister's response, anxious actually, but he was calm outside, proper composure, calm face, calm tone and no sign of being nervous in front of Lord Tywin.

[Elepis]

deleted

[Novae Vitae]

Ser Tywin Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West

Tywin was somewhat surprised by the Lord of Castamere's candor, though his face did not betray him. His appearance remained iron, like his name, and he considered for a few moments in silence.

"War is coming," Tywin said at last. "War is coming, my lord, and in time I may be a king. I may be the king. My daughter could be wed to the Arryns; I would have a strong ally in them. Or I could send her south, to Dorne; in them, I would find stability. So if I wed her to you, my lord, there is something I need in return."

Tywin paused, looking at the giant of a man. "When war comes, swear to me by all the gods that you will fight until your last breath for House Lannister. Swear that you will lead ever van I tell you to, and that you will cut down any foe I order you to cut down. Tell me that no castle will defy me so long as you are in my army; tell me that when my foes see you standing beside me, that they'll quiver in their bowels and run with fear before you ride them down. Promise me, Lord Morshall. Promise me you will kill my enemies, without fail."

Tywin's hands man a small pyramid on his lap. "Do this, and when the war is over, you may wed my daughter. You will be betrothed for now, unless you refuse these terms. Are we agreed?"

[Elepis]

House Nymeros-Martell

Prince Lewyn Nymeros-Martell
One Day after the wedding

---

"Cletus Yronwood" Princess Elia held a long spear in her hand as she spoke to the kneeling figure of Lord Cletus, the Bloodroyal. "I, Elia of House Nymeros-Martell, Princess of Dorne, Lady of Sunspear and Starfall here by name you Warden of the Eastern Marches. I here by task you to defend the Marches between the Sea of Dorne to King'sgrave against anyone who would do harm to the people of the Principality of Dorne. I hear by give you command over all houses of the Eastern Marches only in times of war and I ask you to use this power to defend Dorne. Do you accept this responsibility?". The four and thirty year old Lord Yronwood looked up at his Princess "I Cletus of House Yronwood, hear by accept the responsibility of Warden of the Eastern Marches and here by swear that House Yronwood will use this responsibility to protect the Principality of Dorne and House Nymeros-Martell from all those who would do them harm. " With that, Lord Cletus stood and took hold of the spear. Princess Elia then turned to her husband who was kneeling before her next to Lord Yronwood and gave him the same speech, asking him to be Warden of the Western Marches with power in times of war of the soldiers of the houses between Kingsgrave and the Summer Sea. He accepted the responsibility and took a second spear, identical to the one given to Lord Yronwood.

Prince Lewyn stood to the side of the dais where his mother stood. Beside him stood his sister and Allyria Starwyne. He could feel Allyria's fingers brush against his own and his sister's advice from the wedding night kept on ringing in his ears. He could feel blood rushing to his cheeks and desperately tried to diverted his thought pattern. He looked back to the Dais where is mother stood, making a speech to the lords and knights below her.

"My lords and ladies, it saddens me to say this but the realm of the Seven Kingdoms is in a very precarious position. We have no Queen or King and we are ruled by a band of bickering old men and women who's only decision is to increase their own salaries and the size of there houses. Soon something must break and Dorne must be ready for it. Our men are the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms and I know we all, man or woman would die for Dorne. However simple bravery is not enough. Thus I decree the creation of a new, full time military unit. This unit shall be called the "Lightening Legion" and shall be made up of 3,000 mounted men. These new fighting soldiers shall be armed with standardized, high quality equipment and will be the first line of defense if Dorne is attacked. In the event of war, these gallant men shall quickly mobilize and raid the baggage train and infantry column of any invading army while our main force mobilizes, in effect, cutting the head off from the lungs and heart. Any man, between the ages of 16 and 40 will be able to join and will be given no benefits dependent on social status and all men who have not had any previous military service will start at the bottom rank. Any man, whether the son of a Plankytown fisher man or a Martell will be able to rise to command this unit. The pay will be equivalent to the pay of the city guard of Oldtown and housing in barracks will be provided. The lords of Vaith and Godsgrace, as well as House Martell will provide men from their house hold guard t train these men in the art of war. This unit will be based outside Vaith and will be under the ultimate command of the Prince or Princess of Dorne. The great warrior and general, Ser Obreyn Allyrion shall act as acting commander. I here by order that in every village, town and city of Dorne, the creation of this unit be proclaimed. That is all."

With that, the great lords of Dorne, who had assembled in Sunspear for the wedding of Ser Meryn Dayne and Lady Mertha Wyl departed the Great Hall to ride to their own lands. Prince Lewyn, Princess Loreza and Lady Allyria Starwyne left the hall for the Maester's Tower for the day's lessons.

---

The Red Keep, King's Landing

"Lord" Martyn Sand, Master of Laws, the "Sand Snake"

The Gold Cloaks on the "Servants Entrance" bowed to him as he walked in to the shadows of the Throne Room. They did not need to bow but as Martyn was Master of Laws, and controlled the Gold Cloaks, many men who sought promotion treated him as if he was a lord or Prince. Above him sat the viewing gallery, obscuring him from the two occupants of the Throne Room, an elderly woman and a middle aged dwarf, both of whom had their backs to him. Thanks to the echos the room generated and his relative proximity to them, he could hear the end of there conversation.

Martyn stepped out of the shadows and sand "And so he spoke...and so he spoke...that lord of Casterlyyyy". He smiled his white Dornish teeth at them as they turned and kissed they lady's hand. "Queen Catelyn" he said to the woman and addressing the dwarf with a simple "Robb". Martyn then took a document out of the sleeve of his long, flowing orange and yellow robe and said "The Grand Council wants the realm to carry on feeding it I here, an odd thing to ask when half the realm starves but I guess it is mine and Robb's job to comply. I have set out to ways to make our noble council members fatter, one with a towns tax, one with a High Value Goods Tax. I will let you, good Master of Coin take a copy with you to read at your home. I will present them to our own greedy council tomorrow." With that he handed the dwarf two rolls of parchment, each with a new tax law on it.

---

High Value Goods Tax

High Value Goods Tax
Lords of the Realm, because of the cost of keeping the Grand Council running, new taxes shall be raised. Thus, in the name of the Grand Council of the Seven Kingdoms, the following tax amendment will come in to force in a moons turn. The following goods will face a ten percent tax increase when selling. The money shall be collected by the lords paramount and delivered to the Grand Council for distribution. Any knight or lord who refuses to pay or collect the tax will be considered a criminal and sent to the wall and his assets sized.

Metals to be taxed:
1. Platinum
2. Gold
3. Osmium
Minerals to be taxed
1, Rubies
2. Diamonds
3. Jade
Food stuffs to be taxed
1 Saffron
2 White Truffles
3 Beluga Caviar

Done by order of the Grand Council of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

Towns and Cities tax

Urbanization Tax

Lords of the Realm, because of the cost of keeping the Grand Council running, new taxes shall be raised. Thus, in the name of the Grand Council of the Seven Kingdoms, the following tax amendment will come in to force in a moons turn. Every town of the Seven Kingdoms shall pay a seven percent tax of the value of its property to the Grand Council each year. Every city shall pay a five percent tax of the value of its property to the Grand Council each year. Any knight or lord who refuses to pay or collect the tax will be considered a criminal and sent to the wall and his assets sized.

Done by order of the Grand Council of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.