The Reach
Highgarden, Seven Kingdoms of Westeros
His Grace, Renly, of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Storms End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands
The high seat of House Tyrell was hardly the Iron Throne. Made of dark oak, its elaborate carving, and the hundreds of delicate wooden roses that adorned its sides were a far cry from the twisted barbs and cold steel of Renly's real throne in Kings Landing. The King looked radiant, though his cloak flooded out of the chair in a cascade of glimmering gold. Before him, below the raised dais upon which he sat, long oaken trestle tables spread forth, all the rather impressive length of Highgarden's Great Hall. Along the central table, the Lords, great and small, that had sworn themselves to Renly were sat. On his right, Mace Tyrel puffed, his broad, flabby chest adorned with a small pin, denoting his status as Hand of the King. Further along, Lords Rowan, Tarly, and both Fossoways sat, among others. Across from the countless vassals of Highgarden, the greatest Storm Lords sat. Lord Caron, and Lord Swann sad chatting, while ancient Lord Estermont was whispering into the ear of Lord Tarth, the Evenstar. The assembled host was one of the most noble to ever be assembled, but they paled in comparison to the few who flanked Renly. Queen Margaery sat in a smaller throne to thr Kings left, he innocent face framed with the famous brown hair of House Tyrell. Upon her head sat a delicate crown of gold, wrought in the shape of two small antlers. Her gown was green samite, with golden trim along the edges, and a proud Tyrell roses embroidered into the goens chest. Even Renly had admitted that she was beautiful, But half as much, he thought, as her brother, the Knight of the Flowers, who stood in bright silver mail and plate over his sister's shoulder.
"My Lords," Renly began, his strong voice a clarion in the wide hall. "Never before have I seen such Nobility nor such gallantry assembled so. We sit here tonight, yet soon enough, we shall meet in the Capital. Tywin Lannister is weakened, and Kings Landing is ours for the taking. Prepare your men, we march on the morrow."
As the men before him stood to leave, Renly beckoned some closer.
"Lord Tyrell, Lord Rowan, Lord Tarly, Lord Caron, Lord Bloodfyre, please attend me in my solar."
The King stood, his cloak billowing about him, and planted a light kiss on his Queen's cheeks.
"Take abed my dear, I fear I will be up into the early hours of the morning."
Margaery nodded with a smile, and withdrew.
The Kings footfalls were constant and elegant as he lead the chosen lords into what was really Mace Tyrell's private solar. Having commandeered so much from his goodfather, Renly had rewarded him with a place on the Council, as Hand of the King. The men sat, with Renly once more assuming Lord Tyrell's high chair. With a sigh, Renly removed his crown, and set in on the side table, before unraveling a large map of Westeros before him.
Placing a finger on the Map, the King traced the Rose Road all the way to the capital.
"Kings Landing is the Key. We capture it, all the other houses must fall into line. Cersei, and her whelps will be our prisoners, and Lord Tywin wouldnt dare continue the fight against us. Robb Star cannot defend both the North and the lands of his Mother, and without Stark assistance, The Riverlords will crumble."
Renly's deep blue eyes flicked towards Dragonstone for hardly a second.
"Lord Stannis is of no consequence. If he were smart he would flee to the Free Cities, where he may be of some use."
The assembled Lords mumbled their agreement.
"The plan should, therefore, be simple. Lord Tarly will march the forces of the Reach up the Rose Road, and seige Kings Landing. Lord Caron and Lord Tarth will return to the Stormlands and rally my own bannermen to march up the Kings Road. Together, we outnumber the Stark's and the Lannisters."
Renly once more took his eyes from the map, and looked at his goodfather, Mace Tyrell.
"Dorne." He began. Many of the Reach Lords present suddenly became very uncomfortable. "Dorne has no deep connections to any of the claimants to the Throne. Should we join one of our houses with the Martell's... And extra 50,000 spears is a good dowry."
The implications were to be left unsaid, and the idea floated about the Room. Renly could only hope Mace Tyrell understood his request.
Slaver's Bay
Meereen, Essos
Her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and Mother of Dragons
Hot wind blew across the city, as Daenerys Targaryen and the remnants of her tiny Khalasar rode through the streets. Meereen was large, larger than many of the Free Cities themselves, and Dany could not help but look in awe tat the multi coloured bricks that made up the man pyramids that dotted the city. After the death of her Sun-and-Stars, Daenerys and her Khalasar had ridden west, hoping to reach the sea unmolested. The hope was in vain, as along the Skahazadhan they had been set upon by Khal Pono. So many died, Daenerys was only spirited away with her Dragons by the bravery of her Knight, Jorah the Andal, and her Bloordriders. Now, less than 20 remained, the aforementioned not included. She In the aftermath of the Battle, Dany vowed to one day return to the Dothraki Sea, and end Pono, once and for all.
Yet now, as they left the huge, harpy arched entry way of the Great Pyramid, Dany could only feel sadness. She was once Khaleesi to Drogo, the Greatest Dothraki Warlord ever seen. Now, she was her brother, a beggar Queen.
No,she thought, glancing back at Ser Jorah, dutifully guarding the crates that hid her precious children.
I am a Dragon, the Dragon, and will claim what is mine, with Fire and Blood.Adjusting her heavy leather vest, she eyed the countess slaves that filled Meereen's streets.
The meeting in the Great Pyramid had been less successful than Dany had hoped. The Great Families of Meereen where among the wealthiest in the World, though their success was built on the back of slavery and the blood of those who died for them. As disgusting as it was, Dany knew she needed their help, to get home, to claim the Iron Throne. This point was lost, however, on the Great Families. Of the fifteen of them,House Pahl, and House Zhak had outright called for her head, and the heads of her "Dothraki savages." Few had differing opnions, save for one. Hizdahr, of of House Loraq had only spoken in her defence softly, yet had entrusted Irri with a message for the young Queen. He had offered her wealth, power, and ships, for a price; her hand in marriage, and the use of her Dragons to crown himself as Meereen's King. Dany had thrown the letter to her Dragons to burn. She would not sell herself once again, to a perfumed aristocrat who made his wealth buying and selling other men.
Her refusal had angered this Hizdahr, but the other Great Families calmed him, and the other hostile Houses. Dany would find that no harm would come to her, in the City of Meereen, but, the Great Families decreed she may only stay until dawn the next day.
Such thoughts weighed heavily on her mind as her small processional made its way to the wide harbour of Meereen. Ships of all kinds could be seen here, from heavy whalers out of Ibben, to the swift Swan Ships of the summer isles, and the elegant slaving galley's of Meereen. Dany looked for them all surveying. She passed the heavy trading cogs that had more livestock than people, and the red hulled, black sailed, ship whose mouth less figurehead gave her gooseprickels. The ships grew larger and larger as they drew nearer to the City walls. One vessel, a massive swan shaped monstrosity, no doubt from the Summer Isles, caught her eye. It looked swift enough, its large square sails held fast to the rigging. Its hold must have had enough room to hold Dany's meager Khalasar.
"Ser Jorah," Dany called. The Westerosi attended her swiftly.
"Your Grace," he said, his voice gruff with exhaustion.
"That ship," Dany said, pointing towards the vessel, "Thats the one."
Jorah nodded, and plodded forward. Before long, he was on the ships deck, his arms gripping the rails tightly. The dark skinned captain did not look pleased, his hands constantly flying around his body.
This is not going well.After what seemed to be hours, Jorah climbed down the ships side, and returned.
"They are a wary people, Khaleesi," he said, eying the Captain from afar. "The vessels is called the Cinnamon Wind, and its master, Quhuru Mo, has agreed to allow us passage with him and his crew to Pentos."
Dany smiled, a rare occurrence since the death of her Sun-and-Stars.
"I will thank him, and shower him with wealth when I am Queen."
"This is not a gift, Khaleesi. He demands that all your able bodied men work on the ship, as his sailors, until they reach Pentos."
Dany frowned slightly. Her Dothraki despised the sea, yet she saw no way around the issue.
"Tell Captain Mo, we accept the deal..."
By twilight, The Cinnamon Wind was plying its way swiftly from Meereen, its great sails billowing in the sky. Jorah was ordering her Dothraki about, ensuring that none of them slacked, though both Aggo and Irri had thrown the contents of their bowels overboard, and were now recovering below deck.
Daenerys did not mind, and she looked back for just a second, watching as the Great Pyramid of Meereen disappeared over the horizon.
When I am Queen, I will returnshe vowed, gripping the hard oak rail.
I will bring the greatest fleet this world has seen, and I will raze these slaver Cities to the ground if they dare defy me. When I am Queen, no one will know the feeling it is to be bought or sold. When I am Queen.Turning back from the stern of the ship, Dany looked out across the sea, ready to return to her homeland. Above her, Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion flew, chasing one another through the rigging and up into the sky, their shrieks piercing the peaceful night sky.
I am Daenerys Stormborn, I am the Mother of Dragons, and the world should tremble.