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

[Novae Vitae]

Ser Cerion Lannister
The Yellow Stag, King's Landing
Day Zero

"If any man didn't call my sweet bastard daughter a lady," Cerion said, a smirk pulling over his face, "I'd slit their throat, reach up their mouth, rip out their tongue, and tell them to try again. But, as you wish, my . . . friend? Ally? Practitioner of the finer tastes?" Cerion shrugged. "Flatter me then, Renly--what is it that the most hated man in Westeros has to say?"

Lady Joanna Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West
Day Zero

"I fare well, Lord Morshall. Thank you," Joanna said, doing her best to keep her composure at her initial sight of him. He towered above her, and on instinct she made to step back. On her robes, red and flowing, stopped her, and she looked up to see the giant in the eye.

She suppressed a quiver. He will not be so bad sitting, Joanna thought. "Please, Lord Morshall--sit with me." Near the window, there was a round table of a fine cherry wood. The lion of Lannister was engraved on it, and the two seats that were pulled in to it were paddled with red cushions. On the table itself, a tray full of fruits sat, and Joanna immediately seized upon a helpless grape to calm her raging nerves.

"Help yourself," Joanna said, gesturing to the bowl. "May I ask how you are, Lord Morshall?" Waiting for his reply, Joanna reached for another helpless grape.

Lord Paramount Tyrion Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West
Day Two

Tyrion's fingers worked their way through the grey-flecked-with-gold beard that lie down the entirety of his chest. They were ancient fingers, and thick-knuckled, with skin so thin the veins could be seen through them. Tyrion worked them through his beard, hoping that would take the question away.

"You will not ride for Goldengrove," he said at last. The light trickled into his study, weakened by the night. "War is coming; my heir will not be caught far from home."

"Madness," Tywin replied. "Raving madness." He shook his head, as though finally understanding something. "This new tax on cities is almost too much to handle; now, they have taxed us on gold as well. We cannot abide this."

"I did not say that we would," Tyrion replied. He shrugged his long-ago slopped shoulders. "I am the Golden Lion to my people. To my rulers, I might as well be the Dusty Lion. But you will not ride for Goldengrove. You will remain here, and lean armies when I cannot."

"Then shall stunt the Tyrells?" Tywin demanded. His eyes leaned further into his head. "They command almost twice our levies, and they are richer than us, though thank the gods that they don't know it. My lady wife has saved us a rivalry with them, but it would be unwise to deny them."

"Do you think that I don't realize that?" the old lion demanded. "Tywin, you will inherit after I am gone. Do you know when I last left the Westerlands? Do you know when I last left this castle?" Tywin shook his head. "No, you do not. I do not. A lifetime, it seems. I sent you in my stead to see to Aegon VIII, as I was the lord of this land, and a lord remains with his land."

"Then let me go," Tywin repeated. The old lion looked at him, pulled his lips into a scowl, then laughed aloud.

"My youth died with my father, but how wont was I to say much the same while he still drew breath," the old lion said. "And when I die--not long from now, I'd imagine--then you will have Jaime saying the same thing to you, and when you die, his children will say the same thing to him. But know this--you might as well be lord now, and a lord remains."

"Then who will go?" Tywin demanded, at last dejected to the fate he had been served. He had spent years charging through the Westerlands, and how his father resigned him to remain at Casterly? Perhaps it was fitting; bandits were no longer rife in the Westerlands. For what reason would have ridden, save this one?

"Gerion," the old lion replied. "Gerion, though he has no blood with the Tyrells, so we will send you son as well. I will tell them that they ride tomorrow."

"Jaime is in training with Loren," Tywin said. "He is apt to make a mock of us in the field."

"Did I say Jaime?" the lion demanded in return. He leaned back, and ran his fingers through his beard.

[Alotopia]

Lady Alena Tyrell
King's Landing

Lady Alena waited for the Dornishman to exit before dawning her smiling face again. She spoke to Lord Arryn while running her hand through her long, black hair... "You don't think I enjoy your company, My Lord? We are to be married! We need to enjoy each other!" She said as Barristan kicked the door to let her know that the Dornishman was far enough away to not be within earshot. She continued to be herself while shifting the conversation to something much more serious.

"My Lord, I brought a message from Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach. I have no idea of the contents, but I believe it is too important for ravens... And as we are to be married, I do not wish to have the service in King's Landing. I do not want to bring my family here with the impending war..."

She handed a letter to the Lord...

Outside Lord Arryn's Study

Ser Barristan stood outside the room and said to the Dornishman, "Martyn Sand eh? Master of Laws? What are you doing here in Lord Arryn's residence? "

[Krugmar]

Lord Ryam Redwyne
Oldtown

---

"To put it bluntly, no, I am not, and I think that you know the reasons why." said Ryam, making no secret of his dislike for the Blackfyre house, though not necessarily its members. "But such petty disputes are not why I come here. No, that is a lie, I suppose you might call my next request petty though I would disagree. I came here to collect an inheritance denied to my father, and I expect you will deny me as well but that does not matter to me" he continued, moving his attention to the Valyrian sword resting between the two banners.

"It should have passed from Leyton Hightower to Denyse Hightower, married to one of my distant kinsman Desmond Redwyne, and then to their child Denys, a male. Denys had no surviving children, therefore the sword should have passed into the main Redwyne branch as all of the Hightowers were dead. By all the laws of gods and men that sword belongs to my family, as just compensation for what we lost in the war if nothing else" he said, turning his attention back to Jacaerys.

"But I know that laws mean little without kings to enforce them. In good faith I have given you my son, useless though he may be, would you ask another price of me? I have gold, ships and allies within the Reach" he continued, resorting to something he hated most, bribery.

---

Ser Mathis Redwyne
King's Landing, The Red Keep

---

Mathis followed Robb on the walk, listening intently to what he had to say, just as Ryam would. "It is not about the cost my lord, I'm sure we could fund it ourselves if needed, we have already built a prototype in the Arbor and the reports have been glowing. But your kindness is appreciated by our family, truly, my brother will be delighted to know of it" lied Mathis. His brother had told him that nothing anybody said in King's Landing actually mattered, and that they were all simply looking out for themselves.

'They want my wine and they want my ships. Once they have them they can throw me away, our grandfather learnt that the hard way Mathis. Paxter gave his life trying to defeat the Ironborn, and what thanks did he get? Seventeen years they left the Arbor in enemy hands, then made us beg and kiss their feet when they decided to take it back. Don't trust any of them, you hear me, don't trust any of them.' Ryam had said, and the words had stuck with Mathis, providing him with the strength he so desperately needed.

---

Lord Ryam Redwyne
Sailing to King's Landing - 2 days later

---

Ryam stood on the stern of the Arbor Queen, leaving his crew to run the ship while he looked on ahead into the vast blue beyond. One of his crewmembers in charge of the ships ravens came to him and handed him two letters, one that horrified him and one that gave him some ideas. "Bloody High Septon, prattling on about... no, this is different. No fear, it seems their hate is directed towards the Grand Council, not to the small council. Either way they won't arrest me, one word and the best wine in Westeros stops leaving the Arbor, imagine the riots that would cause" he said, chuckling. Such an action would hurt the Arbor, true, but a small price to pay for the security of their lord.

He read the letter from the Braavosi, and decided that perhaps a foreign ally in these times might be a prudent choice.

To Mothys Vorko Terratho, Son of the Sealord of Braavos, Commander in Chief of the army of Braavos.

Your letter intrigues me, and I do believe we can do business. I have many unwed daughters, all of whom I believe would make a good match for you and all of whom I hold dear in my heart. Perhaps we should meet personally, though I must insist that you or an emissary come to King's Landing in several weeks time. Things here are heating up and I fear I may not be able to leave for quite some time. I hope to hear from you again.

signed, Lord Ryam Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, Grand Admiral of Westeros, Lord Admiral of the Reach and Master of Ships of the Small Council.

He signed the letter and handed it to the man, who attached it to a raven and sent it flying off.

[Ochallan]

(Image)
Lord Ryam Redwyne
Oldtown

---

He read the letter from the Braavosi, and decided that perhaps a foreign ally in these times might be a prudent choice.

To Mothys Vorko Terratho, Son of the Sealord of Braavos, Commander in Chief of the army of Braavos.

Your letter intrigues me, and I do believe we can do business. I have many unwed daughters, all of whom I believe would make a good match for you and all of whom I hold dear in my heart. Perhaps we should meet personally, though I must insist that you or an emissary come to King's Landing in several weeks time. Things here are heating up and I fear I may not be able to leave for quite some time. I hope to hear from you again.

signed, Lord Ryam Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, Grand Admiral of Westeros, Lord Admiral of the Reach and Master of Ships of the Small Council.

He signed the letter and handed it to the man, who attached it to a raven and sent it flying off.

Mothys Vorko Terratho, The Manse of Terratho

Mothys had received two letters, but the one from the Redwynes was the most intriguing. The Redwynes were an old and prosperous house, and the Grand Admirals of the Westerosi fleet. This brought him the chance to gain much, and to become far more prosperous. After all, if this marriage went ahead, he would be a bastard no longer, but a lord in his own right. Then he would be sure to inherit the city itself, nevermind Orothys or Kennalos. He would sail to king's landing as soon as he may, escorted by his own ships, to arrange the marriage. He penned a letter, glad to send it off and then set sail.

Lord Ryam Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, Grand Admiral of Westeros, Lord Admiral of the Reach and Master of Ships of the Small Council.
I would be glad to meet you in Kings Landing, and will be on my way as this message reaches you. I hope to see you soon, and to negotiate a suitable match.
Yours Faithfully, Mothys Vorko Terratho.

With that message sent, he set off to the docks, boarding his personal Dromond ''Ocean's Bounty'', and calling on 5 other galleys to act as an escort. He had to wait a while for the ships to load with finery, fish and gold coinage, to trade in Westeros, or to act as a Bride Price. By the time the sun set, the bronze painted ship set off into the great beyond, Ballistae loaded, on the off chance of pirates. Mothys had high hopes for the future, and he hoped for his visit to westeros to be a good one. If it wasn't... well at least he had the sense to bring an armed retinue.

Morothys Terratho, Sealord of Braavos, The Temple of the Moonsingers.
Morothys knelt in the centre of the great temple, watching the full moon through clear glass. The Westerosi had their seven, Volantis had R'hllor, but Braavos had it all, and Braavos chose the unconquered beauty of the moon. He had strived to live his life to improve the city, and he had, but his sons and daughter had done the same. He was proud of them, His Steward, His Castellan, His Sword and his Guard, but only one had the chance to lead the rest, to be legitimized. Morothys did not know who, and the moon granted him little solace.

[Elepis]

Lord Arryn's house, King's Landing

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

"That is me" he said, doing an exaggerate bow as he spoke. "And you are Ser Barristan of the Tyrells. I am here to meet with Lord Arryn, which I guess you are to, unless you are just one of the many people who like standing on one side of a door and never going in...Do you know my sister? she arrived in the city today with fifty Martell guards and another 200 or so men sworn to our house. I am sure you to would get along...somehow ". Martyn took out his dagger again to clean his finger nails. The rest of him was always clean, in Dorne, unlike the other kingdoms, people washed themselves every day but for some reason dirt always seemed to get under Martyn's nails. He saw the knight looking at the knife "No need to worry, if I wanted to gut you I would have done it by now. As far as I know you have never caused me harm, have you?" he said smiling with his perfect white teeth.

As he was speaking, one of his guards came running down the hall towards him, holding out a sheet of paper. Martyn smiled as he came towards him but the smile melted as he saw the expression on the guards face "Give me that paper" he barked, tearing the message from his hands. He quickly read it, it was from the High Septon. He had 1700 men and was calling for the Council to be dissolved and open rebellion. Martyn did not like the new tax and he did not like the council, but he did not want the streets to run with blood today either, which he was scared could happen. "Bloody fuck" he said. He then pulled the guard close and whispered to him "Prepare your men for a quick escape to the Manse, send a runner there and put all the guards on alert and send another to my sister's galleys in the harbour, make them ready to sail quickly. I do not plan on leaving the city but we may be forced out for all I know" . He then turned back to the knight.

"Sorry good ser but I have some troubling news, you may want to read this" he said, shoving it in to the knights hand. he then turned to the door and wrapped his fist against it , the opening it saying "Lord Arryn, I hope you and your betrothed are not busy but I have just received very troubling news" . he waved towards the knight holding the paper outside, wiping his brow.

[Alotopia]

Lord Barristan Tyrell
King's Landing

Ser Barristan smirked at the Dornish Bastard, the door joke was funny... But his face soon soured to a slight scowl toward the man as he continued to speak, sometimes it is best to remain quiet, but I guess that is not part of his personality... As events unfolded around him, the Dornishman pushed past him and yelled at the Lord. Ser Barristan followed, reading the note as he went...

"It seems the Grand Council is being replaced by the High Septon. Not a great thing, but maybe we will have a King... It seems the Council is going to be arrested by the Faith and tried or executed... I doesn't seem an action will be taken against the Small Council though. I would hope not, for your sake..." He smirked at the bastard, "My Lord, may I suggest you stay in your House until the Faith handles it's business? I would not want to stand in the way of 1000 Knights..."

[Lorellion]

Queen Catelyn Stormfyre
The Red Keep
Queen's Study

"Shall I bring you his head?" Brynden Tully asked, his head cocked to one side. "I can attack the Sept right now. Just give the order. We have 2000 Tully troops here in King's Landing."

Catelyn rolled her eyes. "That would be most foolish, brother. If we kill the High Septon, we are only giving the people more reason to hate us. Besides, many of the lords of Westeros are faithful. We can't soil the ground of the sept with blood."

"So how shall we respond?" Brynden looked slightly disappointed.

Her mouth curled with satisfaction. "Fetch parchment and a quill." He stayed where he was stubbornly. "Now," she growled. When he had fetched them for her, she wrote two letters.

To the High Septon,

In the midst of your "dismissal" of Ser Kevan, I need to speak with you immediately about a replacement on the Council. If you fail to comply, I shall have you branded a traitor to Westeros. But if you meet with me, we may very well have a ruler to sit upon the Iron Throne by this time tomorrow. Choose wisely.


Queen Catelyn Stormfyre

Lord Rhaegar Targaryen,

We need to talk. Come to Maegor's Holdfast after the sun has set tonight.

Catelyn

She put her seal on it and sent it with a messenger. Brynden looked appalled. "That's it?! You're going to have a nice little meeting with the man that just called for your arrest?"

Catelyn rolled her eyes. "Yes. That's it. But that's none of your concern. I have another task for you. Fetch your daughter and send her to Flea Bottom immediately with a retinue of Tully guards. Have her visit the orphanages and feed the hungry people with my own leftovers. We need to win over the people." Brynden nodded and left the room.

Catelyn stood up and looked over Blackwater Bay. War is coming.

[Nuxipal]

Lord Jacaerys Blackfyre
The Hightower, Oldtown

---

---

Sighing heavily, Jacaerys laughed to himself. "That sword has been hanging there my entire life. To be honest, I don't even think my father knows that it holds any meaning to anyone. However, I can't simply let you take it. You have left a son here, and some day, another of your sons will be my bannerman. House Redwyne once married into House Hightower repeatedly." He paused as he walked up to the wall and pulled the sword down. He took it from the plaque. "All of my siblings are unmarried. As am I for that matter. I understand you have a daughter whom is my age. I will wed either of your daughters, to show that a Lord needs his bannermen as much as those bannermen rely on their Lord for protection.

"Aegon may not have returned the blade to your family. However, I am not Aegon. Lord Ryam Redwyne, I return the sword of your ancestors, the House Hightower, to its rightful heirs, House Redwyne." He hands the blade to Ryam. "I trust you will think on the engagement plans? The Kingdom is lacking a King, but that does not mean that life is in a standstill. Both of our houses may be tested soon, and I would rather see us fighting together than apart."

The High Septon "The Blacksmith"
Great Sept of Baelor, Kings Landing

---

"Most Holy, the former Queen has sent you a letter. We have had it opened and transcribed for your eyes so as not to tempt fate." The letter had been opened by scribes and written several times over and each letter delivered to the High septon. Each was an exact replica of the original document. "Distribute these letters to the Most Devout. I will take counsel with them soon regarding the matter. I the meantime, I will send her a letter in return."

To, Catelyn Tully, consort to King Aegon VII

You were faithful in every aspect of your life to our departed King. However, it is in your body that no child of his was born. I ask that you come to the Great Sept of Baelor immediately to stand trial for your actions on the Grand Council and to testify against other members of the same council. Doing so immediately will help convince the Most Devout of your continued faithfulness to your Husband's memory. I pray to the Seven that are One that you come and seek me out. It will be better this way.

- The High Septon, Voice of the Gods on Earth

[Novae Vitae]

Robb Lannister
The Red Keep, King's Landing
Day Zero

"Not about the cost?" Robb asked lightly. "Come now, Lord Redwyne--it is always about the cost. Why do you think my family is so powerful. Why do you that I am so powerful?" Robb gave a light chuckle at that.

"No, Lord Redwyne, I am Master of Coin. If it is my duty to right a report on the expenditures for the construction of these ships, then you owe me little and less. Still, Lord Redwyne, consider my offer. I can clap my hands and have a wedding pulled from the air. And was is debt, compared to a brother's love?" Robb inquired.

"But forgive me, my lord--I must depart to write to my cousin. A good tiding to you." With that, the stunted little dwarf made his way to vacate the Red Keep.

He arrived at his manse, called the Lion's Den by the smallfolk, to find his servants unnerved. "And the nature of this problem?" Robb inquired, still--after all this--clutching the ledger to his side.

In reply, Robb was conveyed the message sent out by the High Septon. "Ah," Robb said. Robb paused, then summoned his steward. The irony was that, while Robb attended the kingdom's treasury, another man attended his own.

"How much money to I have?" Robb inquired.

"Why, a great deal, my lord; alone, more than any other man living," the steward replied. He paused a moment. "In Westeros, at least." He paused again. "Yes, in Westeros, at least," he repeated.

"Good," Robb said. "Good, but obvious. I mean to ask, how much is here? How much could I touch, without leaving the manse?" He raised an ancient, thick eyebrow on his heavy forehead. He looked amused.

"Why . . . why," the steward began. He paused to consider. "Why, we have at least fifty crates full. You have more, my lord, much more--back at Casterly Rock, my lord, so as to guard it . . . so as to ensure that no harm would befall it . . . I only thought . . ."

Robb raised a hand. "Good gods man, you bore me with your fear," Robb said. Then he sat a bit higher in his seat. "So the Faith has claimed to be the divine hand in this institution, now? Very well. My good man, listen fast--you are to find my relation, Ser Cerion. Once you have, count the number of orphanages in this retched city, and send a crate full of dragons to them. And when they ask who sent Cerion, tell Cerion to say that it wasn't the Faith. It was the Grand Council."

"My lord!" the steward exclaimed. Realizing his outburst, he paled, but then paled further. "My lord," he whispered heavily. "That . . . that is treason. You cannot claim to speak for the Grand Council."

"Oh?" Robb asked. "Can't I? I just did, my good man. Here, I'll go it again: tell them that gold was from the Grand Council. Do I have to yell it? Go, man, go! Give the order to start filling the crates, then find Cerion and have him distribute them! We have at least the day."

The man, trembling and pale, hurried, loop-sided, from the room. Robb smirked at his discomfort, then ran a hand through his hair. He had likely given away half the wealth he had in the city in a single stroke. But all the same, he would keep the Faith at bay.

Robb, some twenty minutes later, then ordered Amanda Brax to enter. "You are to leave the city," Robb said. "They will move against Cerion soon. You cannot be here, nor can your children."

"No," Amanda Brax said. She was thirty years of temper, and she stood tall before the dwarf's desk. All the same, she trembled, and the dwarf could see the fear in her.

"No?" Robb inquired.

"No," Amanda Brax repeated.

"Oh, but . . . yes," Robb said. He shrugged his shoulders, pursed his lips, and added, "Elynn and Aegon have servants going to take them already. Genna, the same." Robb pushed a bag of gold toward Amanda Brax. "Go, while there is still time."

"No," Amanda Brax repeated. She paused for a moment, considering. "I will not abandon Cerion. Take my daughter to safety, my lord. Take her on the fastest ship out of this accursed city. But gods save you, I will not leave. I will not abandon Cerion."

As if to prove her point, Amanda took the bag of coins and threw it back at the dwarf. Then, she stormed from the room. Robb smirked as she, too, left him. He would allow her to remain. Her children, however, would be on ships leaving the harbor in less than an hour's time.

For his final act, Robb penned a letter to his high holiness himself.

High Septon,

I hope that you speak the tongue of heathens, for as it happens the Valyrians had a saying: Valar morghulis. I will not presume to translate it for you. That would be outrageous, as I am sure your learned mind from the highest courts of the country knows indeed what, precisely, this means. Nevertheless, it remains true, and while I am sure that it is just as true to me and mine, do not forget that you have ordered the seizure of a Lannister. Do not forget that we have been your strongest benefactor for many years. And do not forget that we pay our debts, as you would be wise to for those that have, for so many years, tolerated your band of fanatics.

Valar dohaeris.

-signed,
R. L.

Robb, placing down his quill, decided that the High Septon was not worthy of him writing his full name.

Let the gods protest, Robb thought. Just as they always have. In silence.

[Krugmar]

Lord Ryam Redwyne
Oldtown

---

Ryam gripped the blade in two hands, marvelling at its perfection. He returned his steely, yet slightly softened, gaze to Jacaerys, "I trust you mean one of my trueborn daughters, hmm" he said, thinking over it for several minutes. He was prone to pondering in situations like these, trying to imagine as many outcomes and solutions as possible. When it came to his daughters he was an extremely cautious man and an even more protective father.

"I have heard that your family is bookish, obsessed with knowledge and books. I would consent to a match with my second daughter, Desmera, of twenty years old with a love of books and knowledgeable people, I am sure you would find her most agreeable. I will send word to the Arbor, my sons can arrange the details. A loving match is the best match my father always told me, if you knew my mother you will know why they called him the 'Sour Grape'" continued Ryam, chuckling for a few seconds before he turned to leave.

He took a few steps, before turning around and saying "As for the Kingdom lacking a King, something tells me that the status quo isn't going to last. Be warned, things in the capital were heating up when I left, tis the reason for my quick departure from here as I fear for my brother in such a city of snakes" before he turned around and started to stride out, intending on departing Oldtown immediately and heading straight for King's Landing

---

Ser Mathis Redwyne
King's Landing, The Red Keep

---

Mathis watched as the Lannister waltzed away, before he made an escape himself. He was still confused as to what the man had been saying, he clearly wasn't cut out for this kind of work, he wasn't Ryam. He made his way back into the Throne Room and found his two guards. They escorted him out of the Red Keep and made their way to the dockyards, he needed to do the weekly check up with some of the more prominent captains, people who he could actually talk to with some confidence. He smiled as he smelt in the brisk and fresh air of the Red Keep, before they made their way into the cesspit called home by countless thousands.

[Old Tyrannia]

Stannis Stark
Stark Manor, King's Landing
The Crownlands

Three years. It had been nearly three years since Stannis Stark, second son of Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Bethany, brother to Lord Alistair, Warden of the North, had been sent south to represent the Starks in Winterfell for the selection of the new king. His brother had implied it would be a short stay, a few months at most. Perhaps Alistair had simply not realised how difficult it would be for the Grand Council to put aside their squabbles and come to some sort of a decision. Whatever the case, Stannis had swore he would not return to the North until the matter was done with; and so for three years, he had stayed in the city. For the first month, he had stayed as the guest of various lords who thought it wise to curry House Stark's favour. After all, Stannis' house was one of the most powerful in Westeros, distant though his brother's lands might be from the seat of power. But as it had become clear that the selection would go on for more than the few months allotted, Stannis found himself finding it more and more difficult to find willing hosts. He'd moved to an inn for a few months, and eventually opted to purchase a manor in King's Landing, with pleasant gardens and a fountain. He'd hung the banners of House Stark, but it still felt like part of an alien world. The North was far away.

Stannis looked out on his gardens from his solar. Like his brothers, he was a good swordsman and a capable rider. He lacked his elder brother's severity, but was more mature in aspect and character than his younger brother Osric. He was the most diplomatic of the Starks by far, despite his gruff manner, hence why he'd been sent south. He had a short, trimmed beard and shoulder-length hair. His eyes were slate grey. He was attractive in his own way, and popular with women, in spite of his brother's dim outlook. Lord Alistair had never experienced a passionate moment in his life; his heart was colder than a wight's, that was for sure. Osric was... Osric. His inclinations were not discussed within the family, apart from the odd joking comment that his scores of female admirers were doomed to disappointment. Such jests passed between Stannis and the Starks' bannermen, and were not repeated in Lord Alistair's presence. Lord Alistair, Lord Alistair, Lord Alistair... Stannis' brother was like a constant shadow hanging over him. His whole life, Stannis, the loyal brother, had admired his elder sibling. When he looked at Alistair, he saw one of the old Kings of Winter, standing tall and dignified. He remembered his shame when he presented his bastard son, Eren, to his brother after the boy's mother was taken by the pox, the disappointment in his brother's eye. Alistair never looked at Stannis the same way after that. But increasingly he felt embittered towards the older brother who had sent him so far from home. Sure, he'd loved King's Landing at first, with its markets and taverns; but soon he'd found his heart aching for the wide spaces and snow-covered pine forests of the North. Mostly, though, his bitterness was directed at the Grand Council.

He knew Alistair would be infuriated by their decision to raise a new tax. Better that they got on with their true task, he imagined Alistair saying, and find us a new king, rather than trying to act like one themselves. The Council was not popular in King's Landing either; he knew that. Restlessness was settling over the land. Movements were being planned, secret alliances agreed. War was coming, sure as winter. Stannis kept out of it- he just wanted to get home safely. He doubted Alistair would ride south to fight for any southron lord's claim to the throne; he'd be content to sit in Winterfell and let the war pass the North by. Suddenly, a servant came out onto the solar where Stannis, dressed in light grey fabric and polishing his longsword Shadowcat, looked up, startled.

"M'lord," the servant said with a bow, "a letter from the High Septon."

The High Septon? What the blazes would he want with a Northman who practices the old faith? Stannis thought as he unsealed the letter and read it aloud; "to choose a King from the nobility that will stand with The Gods against the Heathens... To the Heathens, I implore you to see the Light of the Seven and cast down the false gods you take to." He snorted. "Not bloody likely. I wonder what my brother would think of this. No, I don't wonder- I know what he'd think of this."

He turned to the servant. "Now, listen carefully. I want you to go down to the docks. There'll be many Northmen there, traders, merchants, sellswords. Tell them that any man who holds to the Old Gods is invited to Lord Stannis Stark's manse. Tell them that House Stark will defend those who share our gods, and we'll pay well any man who lends his sword to us- whatever his faith. The Manderlys follow the Seven, too, and the new houses in the Gift worship the Red God. There's a place for all faiths in the North. When they start rioting- and I fear they will, soon enough- we'll stand together and show them northern steel."

The boy looked frightened, but promised to obey. Stannis rose as the serving boy ran to his duty, and walked inside, towards his writing desk. He sat down and grabbed a quill, then a scrap of parchment. He hastily scrawled a message, then put it aside and scrawled another, and then another. Finally he signed and sealed each of them with the Stark sigil, before summoning his steward with a bell. He gave orders that the messages were to be sent by raven. The steward promised it would be done, and left Stannis alone with his sword and his thoughts.

---

To Lord Rhaegar Targaryen, Hand of the King,
My lord hand,

By now you will no doubt have heard the High Septon's declaration. We who hold to the Old Gods fear that this call to arms by the Faith of the Seven may lead to attacks on those of other faiths, our own included. I have less than two hundred swords to defend my manor, and I fear for my fellow worshippers' safety. I am writing to request that you, as Hand of the King, extend your protection to the followers of the Old Gods in the capital; I hope that merely a declaration from you that the followers of other faiths are under your protection will serve to quench the crowd's bloodlust. It is known that you are loved among the smallfolk, and you are perhaps the most powerful man in the city. I promise you that House Stark and the North do not forget those who aid us or our own in our time of need.

I prevail upon your Lordship's mercy,
Stannis of House Stark

To Cerion Lannister,
My lord nephew,

I write to you in urgent need. By now you will no doubt have heard the High Septon's declaration. House Stark has fewer than two hundred swords in King's Landing, and we cannot protect all the followers of the Old Gods in the city if the High Septon's rebellion against the Grand Council turns into a riot and the followers of other faiths are targeted, as I fear. As you sit on the Grand Council you too will be a target of the High Septon's zealotry; I will place myself and my men at the Council's, or your, disposal if you promise to join us in protecting the followers of the Old Gods in King's Landing. For the love of your mother, my sister, I beg that you see the sense in joining our forces.

Sincerely yours,
Stannis of House Stark

To my lord brother, Alistair Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,
Dear brother,

I write to you in haste. The mood in the city is ugly; the High Septon has called upon the faithful to overthrow the Grand Council and install in its place a new council convened under the auspices of the Faith, to select a king who will unite the faithful against the heathens. I fear there will be riots in the city soon, and those who hold to the Old Gods will be targeted. I have done as I know you would have me do, sent out word that House Stark would defend all the followers of the Old Gods who came to us, and I have reached out to Lord Rhaegar and Arya's son Cerion for assistance. But I have only one hundred and forty five swords in the city, and there are over a thousand of the Faith Militant alone. Gods willing, I will write again soon to keep you informed. But if you do not hear from me, I ask only that you avenge me, as I know you will, and bring my remains back to Winterfell to bury me in the Crypts of Winterfell besides our ancestors.

Your brother, always,
Stannis of House Stark

[Moth-Gar]

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

Darrik stood above Lady Joanna, who was quite beautiful, but saw that she was uneased with Darrik standing and then made eye contact after thanking him. She offered Darrik a seat, near the window and her. He walked over to the seat like a giant of a man he was, with the steps making loud thuds every after each one. He was nervous because he was always like this with pretty girls, even at a young age he was like this. He couldn't help but look at her and saw something so beautiful that made him swear allegiance, but hopefully, it will be worth it.

"I'm fine, Lady Joanna, although I am a bit nervous and shy today" he said humbly to Joanna. He was really nervous with Joanna, but he got a grape to satisfy his nervousness.

[Novae Vitae]

Lady Joanna Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West
Zero Days

"I think we both are," Joanna replied, making light of the comment. A moment of awkward silence filled the space between the two, and for a moment Joanna forgot all of her nature of scheming and charming looking at the massive man. She made herself look out the window.

Below, the gardens of Casterly were ripe with blooming plants and elegant flowers and a septa who sang in a lovely voice. Near the septa, Jya sat happily, a big smile of her face. "When I was her age," Joanna remarked, "I once sang with the septa. Then septa stopped singing and half the court was watching and I just stood there, looking out at them. And then they started to clap."

Joanna, having forgotten that Lord Morshall was in the room, turned back to him with a blush. "But Septa Regina has a very pretty voice too," she added quickly, wishing to seem modest. She quickly reached for another grape to assail.

[Moth-Gar]

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

Darrik smiled with what just happened, even if it was awkward, and took another grape just as Joanna was about to take one too, accidentally touching her hands. He quickly moved away his hands from hers and looked at her, looking at hopefully his wife. He then said "When I was that age, I was already lifting a short sword, I was big then and now. My father was shorter than me when I reached adulthood, and by then, I could already lift a normal sword.", sharing some of his past to Joanna. "May I ask, Lady Joanna, If I can hear you sing?" he asked humbly. She was talking about how beautiful everyone's voice, including hers, was, he wanted to hear her voice, her singing voice.

[Novae Vitae]

Lady Joanna Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West
Day Zero

Joanna's hand brushed against Darrik's, and she felt nothing. But touching his skin had an effect. Even though the man was a giant, even though she was a stick easily snapped before him, his hand was still warm and his wrist still showed veins and his skin still felt like skin. The giant was mortal.

"That's very impressive, Lord Morshall," Joanna said. "My cousin Ser Loren worked hard to grow accustomed to using a regular sword, and he is five-and-twenty."

When the Lord of Castamere asked Joanna to sing, she paused for a moment. She had not expected him to ask that. But when he did ask it, having paused, she considered for a moment and, realizing her chance, decided.

"Very well, Lord Morshall," she said, her voice already raising. In a stirring soliloquy of sound which took the finest tones of birds and melded them into the voice of the Maid herself, Joanna began to sing. She chose a fitting song.

"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war we pray.
Stay the sword, and the stay the arrow;
Let them know a better day.
Gentle Mother, strength of women,
Help our daughters through this fray.
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder waaayyy."

Joanna held the last word for a moment, letting it reverberate like the singsong tones of the best of the septas through the room. When she had finished, Joanna smiled lightly, blushing again . . . though this time, much of her own intention.

[Moth-Gar]

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

Darrik listened as Joanna sang beautifully, with each word sounding so, elegant, graceful, anything that is synonymous to beautiful, it was what Joanna's voice sounded like. What got Darrik's attention though, is, at first, her song. She sang about war and how the Gentle Mother should save both sons and daughters. With that, he realized Tywin doesn't hold anything back to Joanna, even if it was about war, but he just smiled as she finished her song. Her blushing, this time, was too obvious, but Darrik just let it be, it was her doing, and he has no right to question it. After the song, he said "Your voice is beautiful, Lady Joanna" while looking at her eyes passionately while smiling. Even after all this time he was still nervous, but at least he was more comfortable. "That song, why pick it?" he asked curiously, wanting to know why, from all the songs that was available, all the songs that was not about war, why that?

[Kuhlfros]

Lord Arrel Umber
Umberlands, the North
Zero Days

"What is your name deserter, why did you break your vow?" Arrel asked sternly standing like a giant over a man hunched over on his knees, two Umber soldiers standing by, their orange surcoat with chain across their chest was a great contrast to the misty morning.

the Nights Watch deserter said quietly accepting his fate now, "My name was Elras, a criminal from the reach I suppose, I cannot stand the cold m'lord, nor being without women...those girls in Mole's town are not enough for me..."

Arrel snorted in amusement to the deserter but then said, "Then Elras of the Reach, by laws of men and the gods, abandoning your vow and post on the wall is punished by death, Jorann, my sword."

Jorann stepped forward, he was nearing the height of his father, and could carry the massive greatsword almost as well as he could. This greatsword was a dark, ugly, steel blade, the biggest sword in the North or even the seven kingdoms. Wrapped in a snowbear hide sheath. Jorann stood in front of his father, sheathed sword held in both hands so that his father could grab its grip.

Arrel drew the blade out with one hand smoothly from the sheath, and put both his hands on the grip and announced loudly, even causing an echo around the surrounding area, "Farewell Elras, May the Gods, Old and New, watch over you" And brought the blade down at lightning speed, separating head from body cleanly."

Rodrick Umber "the Mammoth Man",
Lonely Hills, the North
Zero Days

"Damn beast, move!"

Rodrick cursed the mammoth cow and his fellow mammoth workers as he tried to push the pregnant female mammoth into a small creek and through it. Rodrick's old yet mighty muscles rippled as he shoved the mammoth trying to urge her to move.

the old mammoth cow, who had bore many mammoth in her time, was growing stubborn as she aged, this would be her last calf many expected, however they will not be able to safely birth the calf if she refuses to move along with the herd which is slowly gaining distance away from them.

"Fuck you, you old idiot" he cursed and drew his spear from behind his back, jabbing the spear harshly into the ankles of the cow, the mammoth trumpeted, which echoed through the mountains, and began to barrel across the river, short, small bursts of blood welling and matting her fur. The old Mammoth man then mounted his massive, furry gray horse, which raced across the water, his spear still in hand, in order to keep the cow on the path and prevent a mammoth stampede caused by her panic.

[Argentarino]

Lord Quentyn of House Linster, Lord of Evenfall Hall
Evenfall Hall, The Sapphire Island/Island of Tarth
Day 3

Three days ago, Lord Quentyn found out from his wife, Lady Jeyne Linster nee Swann, that she was with child. That same day, the young lord had ordered the news to be spread throughout the Island of Tarth and the Stormlander-held Dornish Marches. This was more than a gesture of an excited father-to-be; it was meant to be a message to all in the Stormlands: that the alliance between the swans of Swann and the griffins of Linster was secure, and that House Linster was now secure. He had also ordered his castellan to make preparations for a feast to occur in the next month to celebrate the news. It seemed that the fledgling House was going to have everything at its fingertips...

But today, that attitude would soon change. A raven from the Sept of Baelor, bearing a message that Lord Quentyn was not quite expecting. He had not received word from the Most Devout, a certain member of the House of Targaryen, whom he had written to three days ago. This letter though, was extremely troubling.

By Order of the High Septon

To All the Faithful,
The High Septon, Voice of the Gods on Earth has heard your pleas. The Grand Council has failed to select a King for three years now. Three years where this council has sat around and acted as if they are the King. The Faithful will never have to bend the knee to anyone but the Gods and to the King. They have ordered forced the Small Council, full of men both Faithful and heathen to pass a new tax which will cause pain to all those who it effects. Five percent of your earnings now go to pay this Council of Snakes. Fiver Percent of your earnings go to creating corrupt lords and ladies. Let it be known now that, due to the failings of our own representative we have arrested him on accounts of treason against the realm and the faith. I ask that all the faithful arrest the Lords of the Grand Council so that we may create a new council, overseen by the Faith to choose a King from the nobility that will stand with The Gods against the Heathens. In the meantime, do not pay this tax. Seek out the members of my holy order and they will protect you. Send your sons to join our ranks, and we will protect you. To the Heathens, I implore you to see the Light of the Seven and cast down the false gods you take to. For when the Father anoints the Warrior, only the Stranger will be waiting for you.

Quentyn was lying in bed, next to Jeyne, as they read the letter over and over again. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Quentyn said what was on both of their minds. "The High Septon...I don't think he knows what he is up against. We can't depend on him for support now, can we?" Quentyn asked. The plans the couple had been working on seemed to have been going smoothly, but now they were in danger of losing everything. "No, no, the High Septon has now dug a grave for himself. He'll be very lucky if he is allowed to live. We may have overestimated how much rationality he possesses, my husband," Jeyne sighed, handing the letter back to Quentyn. "I will not respond to the High Septon's letter, not in public at least...no, best not to say anything about it, even in private. We don't want to give the Baratheon heathens anything to use against us, when the time comes..." Quentyn murmured. Lady Jeyne was pleasantly surprised: normally her husband would look to her for guidance, but for once, this was something she could side with without scolding him. "But," Quentyn continued, "we need someone powerful who can support us, when the time comes. What if...yes, that could very well work -"

Visibly irritated by Lord Quentyn's murmuring, Lady Jeyne pinched her husband in the arm in order to get his attention. "What do you have in mind, my lord?" Jeyne inquired. Quentyn whispered three words: "The True Dragon." That was all she needed to hear. "If you drag the Hand of the King into this, then you know there is no way out? We must be patient before contacting him. No, we make our move if Lord Davos mobilizes his army to take the Iron Throne, that was - and has always been - the plan." "I know, Jeyne. I had no intention of writing to him quite yet. Once war breaks out, then I will write to him." For the moment, House Linster would make no moves, send no ravens, but it would wait...patiently, waiting to strike.

[Novae Vitae]

Ser Cerion Lannister
King's Landing
Day Zero

Thus having left Renly for the time being, Cerion returned to the Lion's Den only to find that his children were gone. Word reached him of the High Septon even before Robb did, and once he had Cerion was in a right state.

"I will carve off his face!" Cerion exclaimed, red with anger. No one would presume to harm his children, yet they had must needs flee! "I will rip off his flesh!"

"Silence yourself, foolish boy," Robb said. "I have a plan. Be quiet. A raven arrived not long ago from Stannis Stark, pledging our men under the condition we would protect the followers of the Old Gods. I sent a raven replying that we would, and have told him to send fifty men to Flea Bottom and, once there, to search you out."

"I'm not in Flea Bottom! Nor is the High Septon, for that matter!" Cerion exclaimed, still red. With his burning skin, he slammed the wall. Gods damn the High Septon, what blasted idiocy was this! By what decree did he presume to be the vicar of gods he had not met; by what decree did he assert himself wiser than nine of the wisest men and women in the realm combined? He was a preacher--let him stay a preacher, and leave the game to those that knew how to play it correctly!

"Yet, you foolish boy," Robb hissed. "Now is not the time for one of your temper fits, Cerion. Now is the time to act! You have waited three years for this, and what better foe to strike against than the Faith. Your father has pandered to them for far too long; it is high time that the Faith began to pander to the lords."

"Then what would you have me do, for this?" Cerion demanded, rounding on Robb. "What can I do? I cannot fight them all!" Cerion had his sword, though. He would at least kill a few, he decided.

"No, but the people can," Robb replied. "The High Septon, he does not understand that his power lies in the people; and the people love gold and food and safety. I do not have food nor safety, but I have quite a bit of gold. Go to Flea Bottom with fifty of my best men. There are five-and-twenty orphanages in this city. Leave a crate of dragons at each, and tell them that they were placed there on behalf of the Grand Council."

"But there were not," Cerion said. Then he waved his hand. "As you will," he said, making for the door he had just entered through. It was not long before his men were prepared for the journey, and in the heart of their entourage trailed five wagons, each with five crates filled with gold. Robb is a great deal poorer, Cerion thought, though the dwarf was not particularly poor now regardless. Just less endlessly rich.

They arrived at the first orphanage with a sputter. "What is the meanin' o' dis?" the haggard old woman that came out to greet them inquired. Not far from them, four Gold Cloaks looked on. A septon was seen preaching. The eyes of Flea Bottom peered to see what passed.

"A decree from the Grand Council," Cerion replied, snapping to his men. He raised his voice, so that everyone near could hear. "As per this decree, every orphanage in Flea Bottom shall be supplied enough gold to fill a crate!" The haggard old woman looked, shocked, as four men lifted the heavy crate and placed it inside of the orphanage.

Cerion paused, then continued. "The Grand Council wishes to remind the people that while it may tax you, it also gives to those most in need--your children, or those children that have no parents. Remember this: the Grand Council will always stand ready to protect the interest of the realm as a whole, from the oldest man to the youngest, for we are one realm and we must survive as one realm." Cerion paused again.

"Without rouge, idiotic men giving orders from high chairs they were awarded by other rouge, idiotic men, some of which had been born on the rich milk of wealth and never weaned from it!" Cerion boomed, so that all about him could hear. To all those about, it was plain of whom he spoke.

Cerion gave a curt nod to the woman, and continued on his way. Not far from the orphanage, he added, "The House of Lannister would also like to give four guards to each orphanage in the city, to further ensure the protection of your children. With some men--some rouge, idiotic men--demanding that you had over your sons to serve them, we--along with the Grand Council--assure you citizens that they will not be taken unless they leave willingly. We will stand beside you, my good people!"

The four men that had unloaded the crate remained, and then Cerion truly departed, the woman looking close to fainting. From there he made his way to a second orphanage, and a third, with as much rapidity as he could manage. He had no doubt that the Faith would soon be upon him.

At the fourth orphanage, Auster came returning to Cerion, still dressed as a red priest. "Lord Lannister," he said, "Lord Lannister!" He gestured about frantically, and it donned upon Cerion that he was playing his part well. Cerion, having already given the gold to surprised orphanage-keeper, turned. "Lord Lannister, you know that the High Septon means to seize you, no?"

"I do," Cerion replied. He raised his voice again. "What shall he seize me for? What crime have I committed? He wishes to seize all members of the Grand Council for being of the Grand Council, is this not true?" Cerion raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed, Lord Lannister," Auster replied. He played feel for a priest, Cerion would give him that. "Indeed, that is very true."

"Then I ask--nay, I demand--of the High Septon: shall he seize me for this? Shall he seize me for giving to the poor, on behalf of the Grand Council? Shall he seize me for giving them what protection I can manage, against the chaos he has created? I demand it of him again: what shall he seizes me for, if not being good and just?" Cerion cried, his voice having reached such a high level that his throat must have bled within his body from the wrath of his exclamation.

"That is just what he means to seize you for, Lord Lannister," Auster replied. Cerion looked at him and, not breaking his own facade, nodded his thanks.

"Thank you," Cerion said. "Though we may be of different faiths, our common good has brought us together. Come, brother! We must spread the good will of the Grand Council before the High Septon comes to seize our gold and hoard it away in his great sept, far from the hungry mouths of his people."

Cerion spurred his horse on, and when all eyes were turned to him, he roared in a voice so mighty it must have shook Casterly Rock: "Let the High Septon seize me! I will gladly stand trial for feeding, clothing, and protecting the poor! Let this be my crime!"

Lady Joanna Lannister
Casterly Rock, the West
Day Zero

"I chose the song because of the coming war," Joanna replied. "My father and grandfather are always talking about it, always preparing. They say my uncle, Cerion, is in danger in King's Landing. I hope that he will be alright." Joanna looked at Lord Morshall's face.

"I hope that, should there be war, you will be alright, Lord Morshall," Joanna said, softly.

[Arlye Austros]

Dale of Dragonstone

“Come on, you cunt! Fight back!” The shout blasted in his ears just before the blade struck his breast plate. Dale was getting up then, and the pain crushed through the ribs and the force of Aemon´s arm tossed him aside, rolling on the sand. When he opened his eyes, Dale gasped, looking at the sky, and all covered in sand.
“Get up!” The Master-at-Arms walked towards him, waving the harmless blade as if it was a stick. Dale rolled and pushed his body up with his four limbs, picking up his own sword. Aemon attacked from above, and Dale moved aside to let the still miss over the sand, he then tried to place a strike on Aemon´s chest, but the Targaryen had no problem parrying and pushing Dale aside with his free hand.

“You lack strength, Dale. I can attack twice as fast as you because I am thrice as strong, and I was stronger at your age.” Aemon explained, laughing. Dale had managed to hold his feet on the sand, and returned the smile.
“I assure you I can become stronger, m´l… My Lord…” He corrected his lowborn words.
“That´s it. Pride above all. And yes… You can, you proved it before.” Ser Aemon readied his sword. “I give you the attack, come on.” He invited Dale to strike, moving his fingers in and out.

Dale readied himself and moved forward, watching Aemon´s ward. He noticed the Knight was offering an opening in his defence and he chose to take it. He attempted to stab the plate from the side. Aemon had no issues parrying back, but allowed Dale back on the offensive, and they entangled the blades in an exchange of stabs, parries and slashes. After a minute Dale could barely breath.

“That´s all for today. Get the gear up to Ser Maldon.”
“Yes Sire.” Dale answered and begun grabbing blades and plates, after his guardian had dropped them on the sand. He started slow and lazy, but in time he managed to pick them up and climbed up to the castle. The stairs climbed between wet rocks and walls smashed over thousands of years by the sea, and darkened in moss. To Dale, the Dwarf of the Beck, it was like home.

He crossed the gate and into Aegon´s Garden. It was awfully quite. Dale remembered his first years in Dragonstone. Lost and confused, but not bored. He spent time with some noble children, and even came to know the other Targaryens. But now only Aerys remained, and he was nowhere to be seen. Dale arrived to the stables and found Ser Maldon.
“Get those yourself, boy. I am no stable boy.” The guard answered. Dale could only gaze at him in anger as the man walked away laughing.

The rest of the afternoon the Beckdorf slashed with his broadsword a combat dummy outside of the wall. He still got tired very fast and his elbow started to hurt. Just before sunset he wished to practice with the bow a bit, but Dale was barely able to bend the string back, and called the day off. Another sun died in the Blackwater.

“I saw Aemon fighting with you down there.” Aerys watched from above a stone that laid below the wall, just by the spot Dale had spent the last minutes of sunlight watching towards the Narrow Sea.
“What are you doing here?” he wondered. “I guess your mother will be worried. It´s late.” He started walking towards the castle. As Dale thought about it, perhaps his master, the child´s father, would also look for him for the final duties of the day. The walked back through the gate.

“You think my father will knight you soon?” Aerys asked as they crossed an opening in the Stone Drumm and into a stairway leading up. Dale could only wish for it.
“I don´t think very soon. Your father still thinks I am not strong enough, and I suppose I need to prove myself, somehow.”
Aerys simply watched ahead, thinking. “With Daenerys leaving… or so they say. I fear this place will be as grim as a tomb.” The tone of his voice was grave. Dale tried to smile.

“It´s not that bad as you think. You could have the entire castle for yourself. And I might not go too far. I think… If I was knighted I would remain in Dragonstone, at least for some time, serving your Father.” That seemed to cheer Aerys a bit, but Dale also had similar doubts, but of another nature. Truth is, he somehow desired Daenerys, but was too far out his reach, and didn´t dare to give a single clue to anyone. They reached the top of the climb and both took separate ways. Dale wished him as good night as lowborns would to their better, and walked towards his own quarters, just by Aemon´s.

Lord Alerys Velaryon.
Lord of the Tides, Lord of Driftmark
Driftmark, Isle of Driftmark, Blackwater Bay

Alerys had spent hours reading Mathis´s The Nine Voyages. The history of Corlys, his ancestor, was all but fascinating. He had dared beyond what anyone would and attempted to seek for a passage in the north, and the end of the Winter. He failed, but dared. His next travels took him to Nefer, Yi Ti and Qarth, and returned richer than the Lannisters. He looked outside.

It was dark, and the only thing he saw was the wall of High Tide, in the distance. An abandoned ruin that reflected the moon light. It inspired him. The past of the family pulled him, or pushed him, depending on how you see it, to reach further. He had ordered guards on those walls, to keep three beacons lit in the night. One after another, the fire started to cut through the darkness.
Baela walked in.

“Brother?” His sister was careful, thinking Alerys was asleep. “Oh… you are awake. Good.” She rushed in and closed the door quickly, but carefully.
“Such secrecy, Baela.” Alerys smiled.
“A raven arrived in the night. Thought you should read it quick.” She handed him a piece of parchment, but held another in his hand. She was wearing a sleeping dress, and probably faced a terrible cold to get to his chamber.
“Is you Husband aware of this?” He asked after reading.
“No. I will tell him if you agree. But this… This is an issue for us.”

She was right. If Alerys had learned anything from his father, it was the dependence of House Velaryon on trade through the Narrow Sea. Irony that he was day dreaming with Corlys, and imagining he was the reincarnation of the Sea Snake, now, the Council seemed to wish a tax raise. Why?
“I don´t think Rhaegar would approve this.”

“Rhaegar is no King. He can be diverted.” She answered, in a whisper. “Also… this… Seems the first letter arrived late from our informant.”
The Septon. It was crazy. The Faith wanted to start a war in the Kingdoms. He put down the letter and leaned to a small table. It had above of it a map of Westeros. His own little Painted Table. Alerys had placed small figures of the Sigils of the houses, and memorized the alliances and bonds, their strength and part of their history. If war was to come, he would need to be prepared.

“Tell your husband to get our fleet ready at first hour tomorrow. I will go to Dragonstone. Now… please excuse me, sister. I need some rest.”
After she left Alerys looked out of the window. He thought they would need to search High Tide, once more. But now, he needed to write.

To Lord Aenys Targaryen, Regent of Dragonstone.
Given the current affairs of the Realm, I wish to pay to you and your family a visit, as it has been some time since I last saw the Stone. I hope you will have no issue with receiving us in the next days. Then, there is much we may discuss.
Loyalty above all.

Lord Alerys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides. Ruler of Driftmark.

[Givious]

Lord Rhaegar Targaryen
Dragon Pit, King's Landing
0 Days

The carriage finally reached the Dragon Pit, Rhaegar exiting the carriage and hobbling with help to the door, which was protected by twenty of his own men augmented with a rotating guard of five gold cloaks. Rhaegar smiles as they let him in, cows and pigs brought up behind him. He is the only one to enter, smiling as the door is closed behind him. As soon as it seals Rheagar stands up straight, stretching out his back as it cracks. "Damn this ruse. It very well might kill me." He thinks to himself. The entirety of the seven kingdoms saw him as an elderly man, crippled and wounded. That could not be further from the truth however. Rhaegar did not know where the rumor started, but he knew he could use it. Tywin Lannister was powerful when he ruled as Hand and as Lord of the Westerlands; he wore his strength on his chest like armor-- however this allowed people to know when he was at his weakest. Rhaegar was the opposite, he wore weakness as a smoke screen, so that his enemies could not know when he was at his strongest. As Rhaegar leads the cattle and pigs down the way with a stick he had left in the hallway he can feel the heat from below. As he reached the bottom he rounded the animals into a small makeshift pen, first moving out a cow. He could hear a rumbling in front of him, the room completely dark until the dropped his torch into the oil on the ground. Lighting up the massive room along the floor, all the dragons became visible. Drogon, Viserion, Silverwing, Dreamfyre, Daencrys. The first two were the largest in the pit, massive in scale with Drogon still a little larger. The other three were just dragonlings of 10 years old, but still large enough to be dangerous. Dreamfyre was the only egg hatched from Drogon, being black with red ripples across his body. Silverwing was a pale silver color, and Daencrys was a blueish steel, with emerald streaks upon her back. Rhaegar slit the throat of the cow, it screaming as he stepped back and Dreamfyre approaching. With a roar it let out a blast of fire, burning the corpse as he starts to devour it. Rhaegar does the same for the other two dragonlings, their parents watching patiently. Viserion gets three cows slaughtered before him, this dragon the one Rhaegar had to be the most careful around. Finally he came to Drogon, who did not feed on beef but on pork. Seven pigs were thrown his way, him devouring one at the other. Rhaegar stepped forward to Drogon, who after finishing the last pig lowered his head to Rheagars level. Placing his hand on the dragon's muzzle, he can feel the fire within him, giving him strength. As he strokes Drogon's head like his mother used to a messenger ran down the stairs.

"MY LORD!" Drogon rears back, Rhaegar throwing up his hands to stop the beast from blasting the young boy in flames.

"BY THE SEVEN RETREAT!" The boy, seeing the dragon preparing did so just in time to not be burned alive, Rhaegar falling back and grabbing the boy once they were out of sight of the dragon. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!!"

"The High Septon...." The boy holds out the letter, Rhaegar quickly ripping it out of his hands. His face is a deep red as he begins to read the letter, slowly turning to white. He looks at the boy, who then hands him the letter from the Starks, then finally the letter from the Queen.

"Alert Ser Brandon, summon his Gold Cloaks. Send twenty to the estate of the Starks, along with ten of my own men including Ser Maegor. No one is to enter that residence until I arrive, understood?" The boy nods. "Good. Tell Brandon to send the Golden Lances to the Red Keep... I will follow shortly."

"My lord?" The boy looks confused at Rhaegar's statement of him following.

"The dragon has slumbered long enough..." Rhaegar exits the Dragon pit, giving instructions to the handlers present. The men enter the pit, their objective unknown. Quickly Rhaegar orders a guard to dismount and mounts the steed himself, grimacing as an old battle wound pains his mounting. Without a word he spurs the horse, riding quickly for his estate. He needed to act, and fast to ensure that he could avoid complete failure.

Jacerys Targaryen
Flea Bottom, King's Landing
0 Days

Jacerys revieved the word while serving the poor in flea bottom, and ran as fast as he could to the Sept of Baelor. As he approached he saw the men of the Warrior Sons assembled, all prepared for battle. Jacerys could not believe what he was seeing, a second Faith Militant Uprising in the making; and everyone knew what Maegor the Cruel did in those times. As he raced up the steps and into the Sept he found the High Septon knelling before the Alter of the Smith. Jacerys bowed, looking at the High Septon.

"You called for me?"

[Nasaira]

KINGS LANDING, TYLAR ARRYN

Lord Tylar Arryn read over the letter that his betrothed handed him carefully looking over every word in the letter so that he did not miss a single detail of the contents. The letter asking for Lord Arryn's support in the possible upcoming conflict, when Tylar finally finished reading the letter he held it over the flame of the candle sitting on his desk igniting the letter and letting it burn so that no one else could read the contents.

Once the letter was no more Tylar looked up at the lady Alena and spoke in a stern but fair voice.

" please do not take me a fool and I will not take you as one."

Tylar spoke to get Alena's attention to which the look on her face said that he did.

" I think you know very well what the contents of that letter said."

He continued to speak with the same stern voice.
" why else would you come here? The only time you visit is when you scheme with your family."

Tylar was a fair and honorable man and as such he tried to not to let his emotions take control of him. Taking a couple of breaths Tylar continued to speak to Alena.
" I was asked if I would support Tywin Lannister for King. Why would I do that when there is royal blood still living?"

The conversation with Alena was interrupted with the commotion in the streets and Lord Martell informing Tylar of what the High Septon had decreed.
" a grand mess this is" Tylar said.

Taking a drink of wine from the goblet that was on his desk Tylar looked at Alena.
" you are my betrothed and I will protect you. Stay here under guard until I return."

Tylar then stood up and exited the room with haste pushing his way past all of his guests in the hall. He made his way to the armory of the house yelling for his wars Aegon. Once in the armory he was helped into his set of armor. A bright silver full plate armor and over top he war a tunic with the sigil of House Arryn in the center.

Tylar's position as master of war gave him considerable power and respect but more importantly it gave him control of 500 men from the city watch.

Ser Kenton the captain of Lord Arryn's guard approached him.
" m'lord what are your commands."

Tylar replied: " double the guard here and ride ahead to the red keep. Assemble what men we have there and send word for the others. I will not have riots and blood spilled in this streets while I am here. Next place the grand council under protection."

Set Kenton acknowledge the commands of his lord and went to seeing that they were done. Lord Arryn had just finished placing his armor when Aegon Blackfyre appeared.

With a little snicker in his voice Tylar said: " Aegon I hope you paid attention during training. Quickly set your armor we ride for the red keep."

It did not take Argon long before he was ready. Lord Arryn exited his manor with 15 guards in armor and rode fast and hard for the red keep.

[Moth-Gar]

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

Darrik slightly smiled, confused on whether or not Joanna was serious on what she said. She sounded sincere when she said "I hope that, should there be war, you will be alright, Lord Morshall,". Hopefully she was, hopefully, Darrik will marry her and have a loving relationship, not one for political or social gains but one for love and care.

He looked at Joanna's eyes, and said "I doubt that I'll be unscathed, I doubt that I'll always have victory, but whatever happens, as long as you wait for me to return, I'll live, I'll live for my family, for you, if you wish". He said those words very sincerely, very serious, Darrik wants a loving relationship, not a material one. Darrik wishes that Joanna would feel the same way, even if there was an age gap.

[Diliath]

Jacaerion Brightflame, King's Landing, 0 days

When Jacaerion arrived at the Western Barracks again was he suprised to see all his men still around the Barracks. It had been two hours since they had arrived there after the practice battle. The first to approach him were two of his liutenants, Landor Boarkiller and Trevas Waters. Both were extremely loyal to Jacaerion, one because he had been with him in Myr, one because he still considered Jacaerion the rightful king. It was Landor who first spoke, his face worried and angered: "That High Heathen has declared this!" and he continued as he gave Jacaerion the declaration of the High Septon "It seems this city is soon going to burst of fanatism and bloodshed, and I guess that we, as biggest armed force of 'heathens' in the city will become a target for the fanatics." In the meanwhile had the three walked inside to Jacarion's office. Jacaerion had dropped himself on a chair with a worried face."It seems then that we'll have to engage the High Septon in battle. Please tell me what would you do?" Trevas answered:"We should take hold here in the Barracks, it is close to the walls and has many escape routes and its walls are easy to defend." Jacaerion then looked to Landor. "I suggest we go to the Gate of the Gods. If we take the surrounding towers can it prove the best possible position we can reach and from there can we directly escape the city." "Something we shouldn't, at least not yet." Jacaerion slowly looked up from the declaration of the High Septon. "We will not flee yet." Jacaerion's purple eyes now flamed up as he turned them to Trevas. "Landor, gather 300 men and take them to the Gate of the Gods to confirm your plan of taking seat there. Keep it at all cost as it will be our only chance of retreat." Jacaerion now turned to Trevas and ordered him while handing him over his sigil:"Trevas, you ride as fast as you can to the Red Keep where you will find Queen Catelyn Stormfyre and ask her for an order to arrest the High Septon for treason against the Iron Throne, be specific with the throne as the council wields the same authority as that thing and not as a king. If needed you show her my sigil. You'll be safe during your way as you're known as a faithful follower of the Seven, they'll let you pass." He paused before continuing "How is the support from our collegues that follow the Faith of the Seven?" Trevas answered:"50 support you, 70 supported the High Septon but they're all arrested or killed, all others want to remain neutral and will remain here in the Barracks." Jacaerion stood up "Good, servants bring me my armor and weapons. All loyal soldiers except the threehundred that will go to the Gate of the Gods will gather at Cobbler's Square under my command. Our men have fought many times in the streets of Myr and they've practised often in fake battles in these streets. Our men are of more value than knights in these streets. I'll show that. There will we await the order of queen Catelyn that will grant us permission to arrest the High Septon. We will fight before we flee, gentlemen, you're dismissed." The servants, Trevas and Landor bowed and left, leaving Jacaerion in his room, planning.

An hour later marched the two goldcloak groups to their positions. Jacaerion among one of them.

Trevas Waters, King's Landing, 0 days

Trevas rode to the Red Keep as fast as possible. The faces of the people were grim and the constant sounding of the bells in the Great Sept worried Trevas. When he rode close to Visenya's Hill did he saw more and more armed citizens and even some Warrior Son's. Though all looked at him and his cloak was his face recognized and he could ride past without problem as Jacaerion had foreseen. The closer he came to the Red Keep, the more busy it got. Normal citizens were leaving the area and goldcloaks moved to the Keep. Trevas reached the Keep and could enter together with a group of goldcloaks he recognized as Brandon Beesbury's men. As soon as he reached the Tully quarters was he allowed to pass as soon as he showed Jacaerion's sigil, altough he was escorted by some Tully guards. When Trevas entered Catelyn's chamber did he immidiately start to speak, under the eyes of Tully guards. "Forgive me that I interrupt your business, your Grace, and forgive me my rudeness at speaking. I'm here to ask for an order to arrest the High Septon who has committed treason against the Grand Council and the Iron Throne by asking for the arrest of you and your fellow council members. Captain Jacaerion has gathered 650 men at Cobbler's Square in order to arrest the High Septon as soon as you give the command on paper." Trevas stopped talking and looked at the former queen in order to see her reaction.

[Elepis]

Lord Arryn's house, King's Landing

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

"Lady Tyrell said Martyn to the woman standing next to Lord Arryn's desk "I fear I must leave your company, however pleasant. I too have a household to attend to.". With that he turned and left the room, walking back out of Lord Tylar Arryn's house to where his men were sitting on their sand steeds, looking nervously down the streets, spears held tightly in there hands. "Where did Lord Arryn go?" Martyn asked one of his men as he mounted his own chestnut horse. The chief of his guards, Obreyn Gulford replied "He whent to the Red Keep my lord, I have also seen a number of Gold Cloaks heading that way. Shall we follow my lord?" . By this time, Martyn was mounted and holding his own spear in his hand. "No, we will but first we go back to the Red Manse. I will not leave my sister to be raped by angry smallfolk." With that, he put his stirrups in to the horse's side driving him forwards.

On the flat roof of the Red Manse stood twelve archers, arrows in their bows, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Martyn nodded to them as he dismounted his horse and ran in to the Manse. He was immediately greeted by his sister, now wearing a yellow flowing silk dress, which was indecently transparent and, while normal in Sunspear or Plankytown, would surely draw worried looks from the more 'noble' women in King's Landing. She looked at him, her face a mixture of anger and surprise."You said you would bring Lord Arryn with you, and why are there so many guards on the roof and doors?". Martyn took her hand and kissed it
"I know what I said sister but unfortunately our plans have been delayed. The High Septon has called for the arrest of all members of the Grand Council and is sitting on Visenya's hill with 1,700 knights and many more angry smallfolk, waiting to tear us, the rich, apart. Thus I do not feel terribly safe and think we should leave the house sort of nowish. Also, you may want to put a cloak on. The dress is fine by Dornsih standards by to revealing for those fanatics in the Great Sept. "

He turned from his sister and grabbed a steward by the sleeve "Where is Quentyn Sand?", anxious to know the where abouts of his friend and Grand Council member. The steward spun around and said "The Red Keep my lord. He always likes to be early for the day's Grand Council meeting" .
"Well, I don't think they will be meeting today" said Obreyn. "Summon all my guards and servants in the garden and prepare all the horses, also, send word to my three galleys in the harbour, move them closer to the Red Keep and make them ready to send rowboats out. Also, hire a fourth galley in good condition" . The steward ran off and Martyn went to his room to put on his chainmail hauberk.When he returned, all his household were assembled in the garden of his manse. He divided them, fifty riding with him to the Red Keep, one hundred to defend the manse. The soldiers who would remain at the Manse had orders to fight off any attack if they could, but if the numbers were to overwhelming, they were to withdraw to the Red Keep via the alleys at the back of the Manse.

At the gates of the Keep, they found a large contingent of Gold Cloaks, looking especially anxious. Martyn could not blame them, they might soon be ordered to kill their friends or family who had joined the High Septon. They let Martyn and his men through and his company dismounted in the Red Keep courtyard. Martyn ordered forty of his men to the walls of the Red Keep. The other ten followed Martyn and his sister, heading towards the throne room. Martyn found a Gold Cloak at the doors of the throne room. "Where is lord Arryn?" asked Martyn. The Gold Cloak stuttered and said "Maegor's I think my lord". Martyn nodded to his sister who went off towards the holdfast, trying to find Lord Arryn. Martyn himself went through the throne room, towards Queen Catelyn's chambers.