[AGOT mod] The Lions of the Garden -- A LannistAAR

[HobbesMkII]

Hey folks, figured I'd add one more A Song of Ice and Fire AAR into the mix, now that the AGOT mod is up and running. This will be a narrative heavy mod, so if you like in-character reading, get ready. I'll try to vary it up as I'm able in a shameless aping of George R. R. Martin's style. This game is a Lannister one. I'd intended it to be one where the Lannisters gained the Iron Isles (which was something I saw happen in a Dorne playthrough) but that didn't happen. Something better did, though. Also, I've altered the order of some in-game events to tell a better story (Maester Gawen's arrival, for instance, occurs three years later than presented)--but no major events have been altered from the way they originally occurred in the playthrough.

The Lions of the Garden - COMPLETED

Table of Contents

Part 1 - The War of the Usurper
Maester Gawen: First Steps
Tyrion & Tywin: The End of Winter & the Deaths of Ned Stark and Illyn Payne
Maester Gawen II: The Marriage of Edmure Tully & Cersei Lannister
Tyrion II: Planning for the Future
Jaime: Robert's Surrender

AAR Status Update

Part 2 - A Rose For Lions
Jaime: Robert's Freedom
Tyrion: The War with Highgarden

Revised Status Update

Tywin: The Fall of Highgarden
Jaime II: Aegon's Coup

Part 3 - Lord Imp
Tyrion: The Death of Tywin Lannister
Bryce: The Lannister Knights
Erren: Careful Planning and a Royal Bastard
Cerenna: The Tourney at the Marriage of Aveis Lannister and Rolf Garner
Tyrion II: Daughters and Dead Kings
Bryce II: The Death of a Giant

Part 4 - The Rock
Dennis: The Bastards of Bryce Lannister
Jaime: The Unification of the West

Part 5 - A Lion's Claws Are Sharp
Lord Willam: The Battle of Leygood Keep
Lords Jonthor & Garrett: Small, Important, Victories
Lord Jonthor: The Manderford Campaign
Lord Garrett: The Sack of King's Landing

Part 6: The Final Tally
King Bryce: Traitors and Titles


Praise For The Lions of the Garden
"This is almost certainly the best AGOT AAR out there...a must-read for any fans of both the game and the series"
Saithis in the New AARlander Edition 4

[HobbesMkII]

Maester Gawen

Maester Gawen knocked carefully at the door of Lord Tywin Lannister's solar. He could hear the hesitation in the sound--he hated being the bearer of bad news. Especially to a man such as Tywin Lannister. Only three weeks he had been in Casterly Rock and here he was about to inform the Warden of the West of a great catastrophe. He took a deep breath.

"Enter," came the gruff voice from within. Gawen pushed the door open and did as instructed. Tywin sat at his table, a plate of lamprey pie in front of him. In a nearby chair sat his captain of the guard.

"My apologies, my lord, to interrupt you at your dinnertime," he began.

"No need," answered Tywin, waving his fork. "Ser Illyn and I were not having a discussion of any great importance."

The little Maester regarded the knight. The man fixed him with a cold stare, one that he fancied saw him minus a head. Gawen swallowed involuntarily.

"Yes, my lord," said Gawen. "There's been a raven, my lord. A number of ravens, in fact."

"From where?"

"Well, the first is from the Hand, Lord Merryweather."

"And what does old Lord Owen want? Help on how to run the Mad King's realm?"

Gawen swallowed again. Maesters did not take sides, but he had been loyal supporter of the Targaryens before he had put on his chains. "No, my lord," he said. "Lord Merryweather wishes you to raise your banners and march on the king's enemies."

"The king has many enemies," said Tywin. "None of whom it would do any good to raise banners against."

"Well, my lord, that brings me to the next raven," said Gawen. "It is from Lord Robert Baratheon."

"The Storm Lord? What does he want?"

"He, too, wishes you to raise your banners. But he wishes you to march on King's Landing. Apparently, Prince Rhaegar has abducted Lyanna Stark. Lord Rickard and his son Brandon were executed by the King when they accused the prince of abducting her. Robert and Lord Eddard Stark have raised their banners, as well as their guardian Jon Arryn. And Lord Tully has also agreed to join their rebellion."

Tywin put down his fork and fixed the Maester with a stare of his own. Gawen shivered under his cold regard.

"Do you have any thing I should send in reply, my lord?" he stammered.

Tywin began to speak, then paused, thinking on it some more. "No," he said. "Say nothing."

"To who, my lord?"

"To everyone. We cannot act. Damn Jamie and his romantic streak."

"I'm sorry, my lord?"

"If Jaime were not a knight of the Kingsguard, we might act against Aerys. But since he is, I will not march my forces on King's Landing, lest I find his head on a pike there, waiting for me. So, instead, we wait. Let us see if these boys, Stark and Baratheon, are capable. If so, we will enter. If not, we will let Aerys dispose of them as he would."

"Yes, my lord." Gawen hesitated, unsure of himself.

"Is there more?" asked Tywin.

"Lord Hoster Tully has proposed that he and your daughter Cersei Lannister marry."

"Politely decline the offer. He has a son. Cersei's children were meant for great things, and I would not waste her on an old Riverlander."

[EtzelHoveri]

Not to bad of an opening introduction post. I believe you have me subscribed. Looking forward to your first real post.

[HobbesMkII]

Tyrion
Tyrion did not care for his new mother. Pruella Greenfield was the daughter of Garth Greenfield, a powerful Lannister bannerman, but Lord Tywin's marriage to her had been altogether unexpected. Tywin had infamously vowed not to marry after Tyrion's mother's death, and Tyrion had always known his father to be a man of his word.

That his father had abandoned that fervent pledge to a woman he had never let Tyrion forget did not bode well in the young boy's mind. It occurred to him that this might have something to do with his erstwhile brother. Jaime's oath to the Kingsguard showed no evidence of weakening, even as the war raged on. They were calling it "the War of the Usurper," now--Tyrion had heard his uncle Kevan say it when the man had visited Casterly Rock a few months after Tywin had made him the Lord of Castamere.

The Kingsguard swore an oath for life, or so the stories went. Perhaps Tywin had resigned himself to this fact, and had married merely to dispossess Tyrion of the Rock. Tyrion would not put it past his father. He would probably have to take the black, he thought, and make way for some bawling infant that had not killed the Lady Pruella in childbirth. Tyrion looked terrible in black. Perhaps the grumkins and snarks would be so offended by his appearance that they would run screaming back into the North. If they could even see him up on the Wall.

"Pay attention or, by the Father, I'll hit you," said Cersei. She was trying to teach him his sums. Tyrion had long since mastered most of them, but Cersei persisted regardless. She and the feckless Maester Gawen both tried to teach him, even though, in his opinion, he had long since exhausted their knowledge. He would have preferred to read his book on dragons, again.

"Do you think father will call the banners?" he asked Cersei. He was not going to learn about sums today. Not if he could help it.

"What for?" asked Cersei.

"To crush the rebels."

"No," said Cersei.

"How do you know?" asked Tyrion.

"The Mad King himself asked for my hand in marriage. Father turned him down," answered Cersei.

Tyrion stared at her for a moment in awe and confusion.

"Father refused the King?" he asked.

"He did."

"But what does that have to do with not fighting rebels?"

"Well, if he intended to call the banners and march on the Stormlands or the Riverlands, he would have married me to the king. There'd be nothing to gain from making friends with men that are soon to be dead."

The door burst open and Maester Gawen rushed through it.

"Children!" he began, his face a mask of enthusiasm many years his junior.

"I'm not a child," said Cersei. She wasn't. Any fool could see that. Gawen could too, judging from the shade of purple he turned.

"My apologies, Lady Cersei."

"Forgiven, Maester Gawen. Do you have some news about the war?"

"Better than that, my lady," said the Maester. "This is about the winter."

Cersei and Tyrion exchanged a glance. The Maester was always going on about the weather. Supposedly, they had been in a winter for almost two years. And certainly, the months had gotten colder, and some of the crops had withered and a few smallfolk had gone hungry and maybe even died, but for the most part, it had been mild. There hadn't been any snow, at least, none that could be spoken of.

"What about the winter?" asked Tyrion.

"It's over, my lord! It's over!" The Maester looked expectantly from the boy's face to Cersei's and back again. There was a deep silence into which his expectations sank.

"Very good, Maester Gawen," said Cersei, finally, as if the Maester himself were responsible for the season's abatement. This seemed to do the trick. Gawen nodded.

"I came to you two first, my lord and lady, " he said. "These type of things always impress children more than adults. Now I'm off to tell your Lord Father." He turned around and scurried back through the door.

"I'm not a child," said Cersei into the empty air he had left behind. Tyrion rolled his eyes, but she caught his look. The blow she gave him knocked him from his seat and nearly dislocated his jaw. She harrumphed and strode from the room.

"Perhaps I need some banners of my own," said Tyrion, after he was sure she was gone.


Tywin
Ser Illyn's swing was not what it once was. He was many years Tywin's junior, and yet age seemed to have taken a bite out of the man's stamina. Perhaps it had been last year's winter. Payne had taken ill, but a few weeks later, he had seemed as hale as ever. Tywin frowned as his captain of the guard attempted to land a cumbersome blow. Tywin parried it easily.

"Faster, man," he encouraged. "Fight harder. Do you want me to end up like Ned Stark?" In a battle in the Crownlands, the Lord of Winterfell had been set upon by a superior Tyrell force. The North had lost the battle, but Stark's men had managed to slip him from the field. Not before he'd taken a crushing blow to the head from a morningstar, however. They said he was now a slathering imbecile, led around by the hand by his lady wife and incapable of recognizing his infant son. Tywin had no intention of falling as the rebel had. The rebellion had stretched on for three years now, and the rebels had occupied only a few of the keeps and towns around King's Landing. But Targaryen forces had Storm's End besieged and rumor said that it was Stannis, not Robert, who held it. Where the man who had thrown the realm into chaos for a woman was, no one could say. Again, rumor spoke for truth--he was on the island of Tarth. He was in the Riverlands. He had holed up in the Eyrie with Lord Arryn. He sat by Ned Stark's bedside and cried like a woman for his friend.

Tywin did not care which was the truth. He had considered committing his forces to the war as well. Aerys would certainly welcome the appearance of Lannister forces. But now there was the matter of the expense of the undertaking. And with the rebels largely beaten, it seemed unwise to Tywin to pay to arm men only to send them to die in a war that was all but won.

Pictured: Very slow rebel progress

Now he regretted not marrying Cersei to Aerys. With a Lannister queen, Tywin would have commanded the respect of the other lords. But then he would have been father-in-law to Aerys. The man had insinuated vile things on Tywin and Joanna's wedding night. And in his paranoia he had removed Tywin as hand, replacing him with a series of imbeciles. Merryweather. Connington. It was Rhaegar that everyone knew was pulling the strings. It was Rhaegar to whom this victory would belong. Perhaps he did not regret refusing Aerys after all.

A strangled choking sound interrupted his thoughts and he looked up in time to see Ser Illyn drop his sword and fall to all fours, coughing. Tywin rushed forward and grabbed at Payne's shoulder. But when Payne turned towards him, he saw blood running down the man's chin and staining the chest of his hauberk. Tywin recoiled in shock, loosing his hold on Ser Illyn. The mute knight fell bodily to the ground, where he stayed as a another fit of blood-stained coughing overtook him.


Maester Gawen came to see him in the solar that night. "Ser Illyn sleeps," he said. "But I fear he will never wake again."

"What was it?" asked Tywin.

"A wasting sickness, my lord. They often seem to strike in the year after a winter, when the ground melts and the beasts wake again. He is as comfortable as I can make him, but I do not think he will last the night. Would you like to see him?"

"Is it safe?"

"While he sleeps, it should be. Provided you do not touch him."

"No," said Tywin, after a bit. "I trust your reports."

"Perhaps that is the most prudent thing, my lord," said Maester Gawen.

"It is not safe to touch him?" asked Tywin.

"I would not recommend it, my lord," said Gawen.

"I grabbed him in the courtyard," said Tywin.

The moment that the little Maester took in choosing his words told Tywin all he really cared to know next, but Gawen spoke anyway.

"I should think, that if you were wearing your armor, and touched only Ser Illyn's, you should be unscathed, my lord," he said.

"But you don't know."

"Not for certainty, my lord," the Maester said, staring down at his feet.

"Burn the body," said Tywin. "And don't let Cersei or Pruella anywhere near it or any rooms he's spent time in. I'll not have my daughter or my lady wife exposed to preventable dangers."

"As you command, my lord," said Maester Gawen. He turned and left. That he did not ask about Tyrion pleased Tywin. It showed him that, as much as the little Maester claimed to know, he was learning.

In the morning, the stableboys were burning Ser Illyn's corpse as Maester Gawen looked on. Tywin spent a month sweating every time he coughed, and forbidding Cersei from being in his presence. After two months, Ser Emmon Frey, his brother in-law, died from the same disease and Tywin spent another month with the same fear for his life and his daughter's. Cersei thought it was ridiculous, and she became so defiant that he was forced to put two guards on her, night and day, to keep her from slipping out and crossing a path that Payne or Frey had walked. Pruella was more agreeable. He sent her to stay with her father until Maester Gawen said she could return, which she did without complaint.

Such tragedies always came in threes, and this was no different, save for one detail. The third death did not touch one of Tywin's households. Instead, two months after Ser Emmon's death, a raven appeared from the North. Ned Stark was dead.

Coming up next: Cersei's marriage, Tyrion comes of age, and Rhaegar ends the War

[Ran Miller]

Great read!

[Tapscott]

I completly agree with Ran Miller! I think ive got a very big soft spot for AGOT AARs.

[HobbesMkII]

Thanks guys! There should be another post up today, sometime. I'm hoping to get through the War of the Usurper (which I basically avoided altogether) before I smack up against the 20 images in 24 hours limit.

[HobbesMkII]

Author's Note: A couple of things I want to apologize for before starting. Firstly, this is going to quite short, because it's just the one event, but there will be another update forthcoming. Also, I didn't pay enough attention to get screencaps off battles and troop movements, so I'll try to make it up in what I remember of it happening. This isn't as big a deal during the War of the Usurper, but it becomes one during the events after. I'll try to make up the difference with descriptions of what happened.

Maester Gawen

Only the nimble reflexes provided by a lifetime of learning to cower allowed Gawen to avoid being struck by the book that went hurtling through the air. It had not been thrown at him, it had been intended for Lord Tywin. But the Lord of Casterly Rock had stood his ground, and the narrow volume, a story of Aemon the Dragonknight, had avoided him altogether.

"I will not marry Edmure Tully!" screamed Cersei.

"You will," thundered Tywin. "I have promised Hoster Tully that you will."

"He's just a boy!" exclaimed Cersei.

"He is sixteen," said Tywin. He rubbed his temples in exasperation. Cersei grew more wild with each passing year. She sometimes talked openly of replacing Tyrion as heir, but Tywin would not hear of it. Pruella Greenfield had still not given him a son, though they had now been married for five years. Tywin was not getting any younger, Maester Gawen knew well. His lord's face grew more lined, the hair on his face grew more grey with each passing year. Of course, the same might be said for Maester Gawen. But all Maesters were old. Everyone knew that. "And you are twenty-two. I should have married you off six years ago, but there were no candidates suitable."

"And what good is a rebel's son for a husband? Aerys will have him burned when Robert surrenders."

"Perhaps," said Tywin. "But the war has gone on for five years longer than I ever expected it to. It may run another five." Maester Gawen would have given a gold dragon to know the truth of that. The Baratheons had held Storm End's for over six years against a Targaryen host outside their walls that seemed to have established something of a city there. It had been an endless cycle, with the Targaryens, Tyrells, and Dornishmen raising armies to throw against the walls, sometimes crushing Robert's levies when he raised them, sometimes abandoning the siege altogether to march on Robb Stark or Hoster Tully or Jon Arryn, whichever of the three enemies to the north threatened King's Landing. "Aerys is mad, but he's not a complete fool. He'll be grateful to end the war on whatever terms he can. Edmure Tully may yet have the chance to grow old. And you with him."

Cersei harrumphed. "It won't matter. Even if you do send me off, Jaime will come for me."

Tywin turned stone-faced, an impressive feat considering he was always stone-faced. He strode across the room and hit Cersei with such force across the face that her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. The sound made Maester Gawen jerk upright.

Tywin seized his daughter by the arm and pulled her up. When she looked up at him, her face was a mask of terror.

"There were certain things I tolerated," said Tywin. "Because you and Jaime were children. But I will not tolerate them any more. You will go to Riverrun, you will marry Edmure Tully, you will give him an heir, and if Jaime does appear and attempt to carry you off, you will not go with him. Do I make myself clear?"

The girl, for, despite her years, she was as much a girl now as any six-year-old was, nodded rapidly. Even Gawen was frightened, and Tywin was not angry with him.

"Go," said Tywin, releasing his daughter. Cersei fled the room, her skirts billowing behind her as she went. Tywin walked to his chair and collapsed into it, rubbing his temples in frustration. He was experiencing another one of his headaches. Gawen was not surprised. The source of Lord Tywin's headaches had departed only seconds ago.

"Should I bring some milk of poppy, my lord?" asked Maester Gawen.

"Yes, thank you, Maester Gawen. And some wine to wash it down," said Tywin, without looking up. "That will be all."

"Very good, my lord," said Gawen.

He was stopped at the door. "Wait, one more thing," said Lord Tywin.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Send a raven to King's Landing. Inform Jaime of Cersei's marriage, and instruct him that he is not, under any circumstances, to attempt to 'rescue' her or...or...Gods, I don't know...I'll cut his hands off."

"Yes, my lord."

"That's all, Maester Gawen."

[HobbesMkII]

Tyrion

Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine. When he put the decanter down, it was considerably emptier than it had been.

"Help yourself," his father growled.

"Thank you," he said, ignoring the tone. "It's a quite a fine Arbor red. I'm afraid we've nothing like it in Deep Den."

"You'll have plenty of it when you're married to Margaery Tyrell, I can promise you that. I daresay she'll need a great deal of it during your marriage."

Tyrion let the barb slip by him. On his sixteenth nameday, he had been betrothed to Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden, a girl of eight, the eldest daughter of Mace Tyrell, the Lord Paramount of the Reach. He had also been named Lord of Deep Den, in Castamere. But even with such a high-born bride-to-be and a title to his name, Tywin still did not seem to hold him in high regard.

Deep Den is smack dab in the middle, right under the "D" in Westerlands

"Why did you summon me here, father? You might've sent a raven if it was merely to tell me to stock up on wine."

Tywin sighed. "This was not as I'd intended our conversation to go. I had hoped to put some of our old amity behind us."

"Leading with your point would be an excellent way to start."

Tywin frowned at his son's flippancy, but nodded all the same. "I've decided to officially name you my heir."

Tyrion nearly choked on his wine. "I had thought my Uncle Kevan would inherit Casterly Rock. Has he fallen so out of favor since Ashemark?"

"Kevan is a capable man, put recently he has begun to push too hard on his claims. He is my brother, but I fear his loyalties are too unsteady to build upon," said Tywin. "I would entrust the West to one of my children. And you are the one left to me."

"There is something you're not telling me," said Tyrion.

There was a silence as Tywin measured his dwarf son up. Tyrion's mismatched eyes stared back at him, measuring in turn. Tyrion had not been lord of a holdfast for very long, but he had been Tywin's son all his life and had learned to imitate his father to some degree.

"Perhaps this decision will not be as catastrophic as I believed it to be. No, there is something more to discuss. We've had a raven from Highgarden. Mace Tyrell has died." Tywin slid the parchment across the table for Tyrion to look at.

"'Natural causes,' the Maester writes here," observed Tyrion.

"Yes," said Tywin.

"So not rebels. Though his death must surely come as a boon to Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn. Cersei will sleep better at night, knowing the Reach will not be marching to tear down the stones of Riverrun anytime soon."

"Perhaps," said Tywin. "Perhaps not. Ser Willas has inherited Highgarden, and he is a far more capable commander than his father was. But that is neither here nor there. I would discuss your marriage."

"It must be in tatters, now. Oh, well, nothing lost, nothing gained, I supposed. More wine?" When Tywin shook his head, Tyrion poured himself some more. His marriage to Margaery had been years off. He could not say he was greatly disappointed. In his experience, it had not been most women's dream of being married off to a dwarf, no matter how high a lord his father was. But when he looked up from his cup, Tywin was doing something greatly disturbing to Tyrion: he was smiling. It was the smile a cat gave a mouse that it had cornered.

"What?" asked Tyrion.

"Ser...Lord Willas, I suppose we'll have to call him now, has pledged to fulfill his father's promise. You will marry Margaery Tyrell. And then we shall have the Reach."

"How? Even if Willas was capable of producing heirs, he still has two brothers who are likely to be more than capable of having sons."

"Garlan was made Lord of the Manderford on Mace's death, and has raised his banners in rebellion against his brother. Loras has some minor holdfast in Highgarden, but he is still a youth and there are...rumors about his proclivities. Margaery has as strong a claim to the Reach as any of her brothers."

"You mean to install her as Lady Paramount."

"At some future point, perhaps," said Lord Tywin. He reached across the table and picked up the decanter, emptying what remained into his own cup. He took a long sip. "But not now. To move against the Tyrells would be seen as attacking the King, and we will not take such unprofitable actions. Instead, we will wait. And when you have married Margaery and put a son in her belly, then we shall strike."

[EtzelHoveri]

No offense to the other GoT AARs but so far yours is my favorite.

[Keperry]

I'm loving all these references to the books.

[HobbesMkII]

No offense to the other GoT AARs but so far yours is my favorite.

Thanks! That makes me feel better about having this degree in writing. And people said it'd be totally worthless.

I'm loving all these references to the books.

I'll run out of them, probably, once I've gotten past the time frame of the books, but for now they're gonna come on pretty heavy. I hope they're not too much in the way of assumed knowledge.

[Tapscott]

Since I know next to nothing about AGOT, your references often go over my head . Regardless, I greatly enjoy this AAR! Keep the kickass posts coming!

[Machiavellian]

Great read so far. I am very interested in the direction this is going. I understand you have played some ahead? Was it a great deal?

[hygge0302]

I love this.

[HobbesMkII]

Jaime

Robert Baratheon was a great brute of a man. Somewhere along the way, the smallfolk had started calling him Robert the Fat, but as far as Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard could see, most of it was muscle. Then again, few men could maintain their weight through a siege. Even so, it took four men to drag him in chains through the Great Hall of Storm's End towards King Rhaegar. Jaime put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He wanted to be reading if the Storm Lord tried anything. Lord Commander Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, noticed.

"Easy, ser," he said to Jaime. His eyelids seemed half-closed, but Jaime knew he observed everything. "You must not let the King see your doubt."

Jaime looked over at Rhaegar. The King was a striking figure. His breastplate was black and wrought with rubies in the shape the three-headed Targaryen dragon. It must have cost a fortune. Jaime wondered if all the gold in Casterly Rock could purchase something so fine. Jaime's armor was golden, though only in color, not in material, and next to Rhaegar, he barely rated a second glance. Here was a king. A true Targaryen King of Westeros, cut from the same cloth as Aegon the Conqueror. It had been a relief when Aerys had taken ill and died the year previous.

Jaime was still not quite sure whether he believed Aerys' sickness had been as it seemed. It had been a stroke a luck, a blessing from the Gods. Of course, if Aerys' illness had not been a wholly unexpected blessing, one would have been hard pressed to find the culprit. And not because Aerys was so loved, but rather because you could not throw a rock in King's Landing without finding someone the Mad King had wronged. Jaime would have speared the man on the end of his sword himself, if his father had asked him to.

Aerys and Robert had been at war for twelve years. Well, perhaps that was not correct. Robert had been at war for twelve years. Aerys had had men to fight his wars for him. Men like Jaime Lannister, who had been at Maidenpool in 291 when Lord Walder Frey had been "killed" by Olyvar of Coppercross. Frey had been 83, and fallen clutching at his chest and gasping for air, and Olyvar had claimed this was because he had stabbed the Lord of the Twins, though no blood could be found on his sword. The "Bloodless Lord Frey," they were calling him now. Jaime had no idea how his various offspring had handled the succession.

He was sure it had caused nothing but trouble for Hoster Tully. And perhaps for Cersei.

It wouldn't do to think of Cersei for now. Besides, Father had forbidden that he do anything for her. "Cut off your hands" the message had read, informing him of her marriage to that boy Edmure Tully. He would have rode off immediately, and hopefully intercepted her party on the River Road, but for that threat. What kind of worthless knight would he be without hands? Besides, Father was guaranteeing her interests, at the moment.

And Father had been busy. Pruella Greenfield had finally given him another son, Tybolt Lannister, born in 283.

The next year, when Aerys died, Tytos Blackwood had raised his banners in rebellion against the Tullys, and Tywin had come to their aid. Jaime had been given many a look for that, but Tywin had been careful, sending Tyrion out the capital to explain the action as for the betterment of the realm, and to give his assurances that the levies would be disbanded once Blackwood was in custody. His brother had looked well. Age and Pruella Greenfield appeared to have mellowed their father somewhat, and Tyrion had benefited from this. Even with Tybolt's birth, he had not been dispossessed as Tywin's heir. Indeed, he was now the High Lord of Castamere, an old title he had dug out of some tome somewhere and recreated. Now Lancel, who had inherited Castamere Keep when Uncle Kevan had died, was sworn to him.

And now the war was all but over. All but in Robert Baratheon's heart. Rhaegar had moved quickly to the center of the matter. He had trapped Robert in the Stormlands, penned his army and cut away at it, so that Robert was forced to retreat over and over, until the man had holed up in Storm's End. And then Rhaegar had laid siege to the castle, but had made sure that not all the Onion Knights in the world could relieve the garrison, sending his navy to watch the approach by sea. He had raised great engines of war and then they'd breached the walls. Rhaegar himself had charged through the gap, screaming for his men to come on, with Jaime and Lord Commander Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold right beside him, their white cloaks like flags in the mass of men. It had been terrible. It had been exhilarating. Rhaegar had met Robert in the courtyard, the Lord of Storm's End in his great antlered helm and his massive spiked warhammer and it had been a furious fight. Rhaegar's shield and armor had been battered to pieces, and Robert had had the antlered helm knocked from his head, one antler sheared clear off by one of Rhaegar's blows. Twice, the Kingsguard believed they were about to fail in their mission to protect the king's life, and the Sword of the Morning cried out to intervene, but both times Rhaegar waved them away. But in the end, the Storm Lord had yielded himself and the castle in a grudging, crushing defeat.

Even a prisoner, he held himself as the King he might have hoped to have been. Jaime did not think he would have liked to serve under a King Robert. The man was crude, a brute fighter with strength and ferocity alone to recommend him. He yanked at his chains, throwing a guardsman off his feet. The laughter that followed sounded like someone beating a drum.

"Where's Lyanna Stark, you animal?" he demanded of the King.

Willas Tyrell strode across the space between them and kicked Robert's leg out from underneath him. The big man went crashing to the floor of his own Great Hall.

"You will address your King with the respect he is due."

Baratheon rose to his knee, a shiny, fresh red bruise on his already quite-red face.

"Where's Lyanna Stark, you animal, your Grace," he asked. Willas Tyrell raised his mailed fist to strike more sense into the man, but King Rhaegar raised a hand and the Lord Commander seized the Lord of Highgarden before he could strike, forcing him bodily away from the rebel lord.

"No more striking prisoners, my lord," said Dayne.

"She is safe," answered the King.

"As your prisoner."

"As my guest. And I would not yield her to you if it cost me my kingdom."

Baratheon smiled. "It nearly did."

The King nodded. "So it did. But it has cost you more. It has cost the whole realm more. This should have ended thirteen years ago at the Trident. I looked for you there, but found Ned Stark instead."

"I was busy with Mace Tyrell and Doran Martell."

"A tragedy, especially considering what happened to Ned Stark. I had hoped to take him prisoner, but my blow seemed to have done more. He deserved better."

"We all did," said Robert. But Jaime could see that the King's words had cut him to the bone. Ned Stark had been more brother to him than his brothers were.

It did not escape Rhaegar's notice, either. "So we must make it better," he said. "Together. I have a proposition for you."

Robert did not say anything, just waited. Given his manners, Jaime thought that might have passed for assent with him.

"Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully are old men who should be allowed to enjoy their waning years in peace, surrounded by their grandchildren. Robb Stark has been at war since before he could even hold a sword. He will never get back the childhood he has missed, but he can enjoy what little remains of his youth. They should be allowed to put down their weapons. I want you to write to them, to tell them to disband their armies, come to King's Landing and bend the knee."

"And in exchange?"

"Mercy. For them and for you. I am not my father. I do not appreciate my bannermen more when they are on fire. You will retain your titles and your holdings, but you will return to King's Landing with me as my prisoner. In time...well, only the gods can see the future."

"And you will let Lyanna Stark go?" asked Robert.

"No. She will remain as my hostage, to ensure your continued loyalty. But she will not be harmed in any way, provided you remain resolute and steadfast in your oath to me."

Robert looked considerate. "Take it!" Jaime almost screamed at him. Aerys would have burned him alive in the hall right then and there. No one had ever been offered such terms to a failed rebel. There would be none better.

"I accept, your Grace," said Robert. A noticeable sigh ran through the Great Hall. Even Arthur Dayne looked relieved, but with the Lord Commander, one never knew.

"Take him to write the letters," he told the guards. "But treat him well. He is our guest, now." The guards and Baratheon departed, though it was hard to tell if it was the guards who were leading him or the other way around.

"Not that way," Jaime heard the Storm Lord boom as they left the hall. "The other way. Don't you know your way around my bloody castle?"

Rhaegar stood. "And now I must retire before our return to King's Landing." He nodded to his bannermen. "If you'll excuse me, my lords."

When they had left the hall, the King turned. "Ser Jaime, walk with me, if you would be so kind."

"Yes, your grace," said Jaime. He looked at Ser Arthur, but the Lord Commander gave no indication of having even heard the King.

"I need you to return to Casterly Rock and visit your lord father."

"Why, your Grace?"

"We will need to rebuild the realm. And this will require money. I have need of a man with a head for figures. And so I would have you give your father this." From a pocket on his belt, the King pressed something into Jaime's hands. When he looked down at it, it was a necklace in the shape of hands.

"I would make him the Hand of the King."

End of Part 1

[Tapscott]

Again, your updates blow me away! Keep em coming!

[HobbesMkII]

Great read so far. I am very interested in the direction this is going. I understand you have played some ahead? Was it a great deal?

I got to 343, enough to play as Tyrion's heir. However, it didn't take me to the next Megawar, which is probably going to be a make-or-break moment, given my experience in other playthroughs of the mod.

[Leviathan07]

Whoo Hooo!! Long live King Rhaegar the Wise!! And his most excellent Hand, Lord Paramount-to-be Tyrion Lannister

[HobbesMkII]

Hey folks,

So, there's a new version of the mod, 1.1, that has a bunch of new features, irons out flaws, and has a new starting point. I was more or less expecting this to come out as I was writing the AAR, but I don't want to abandon the AAR just yet. I also don't want to commit a bunch of time when the new version has the possibility of containing more events for a richer narrative. I'll edit the 1.0 mod files so that I can continue with that version to finish up the AAR.

Here's the deal: I've played to 343, enough to get to Bryce Lannister, son of Tyrion. A megawar should trigger at some point during his reign as Lord Paramount. At that point, I will choose to go independent of the Iron Throne, and fight to become King of the Rock. However that war ends will be the end of The Lions of the Garden. I'll then start a new AGOT AAR, in whatever version is out at that point. If anyone wants to suggest a House to play as, I'll be happy to take that into consideration when it comes time for the new AAR.