Follow along with the video below to see how to install our site as a web app on your home screen.
Note: This feature currently requires accessing the site using the built-in Safari browser.
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly. You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
#GoLadyOfOakenshield
But a boy with Greyscale, that's bad.
And now Melara chose to join Reyna, even with the risk of war against the Waynwood. I wonder what Tywin will think of this.
Or what Jacaerys will think.
Melara checked all of the knots that kept her leather armour tied. They were tight, almost suffocating. She could not complain, she was marching off to war and even possibly to her death. There was no lying to herself, she could feel the beating drums that were inside her chest. Regret had infiltrated her mind, spreading its ill words.
Reyna needs me, House Sheeran needs me, Melara thought. She listened to the drums beat assembly, announcing to the entire camp gathered in the shadow of Casterly Rock that it was time to march. This force was not the entirety of The Westerland's army, this was not even all of Tywin's personal troops. It was but a fraction, enough to make a difference while still looking like some independent action.
The army lacked a proper commander as none of the lords of The Westerlands volunteered to join Melara on this mission, most likely out of fear of the consequences beyond Tywin's reaction. It was indeed a new world that she was venturing into, treachery was something that Melara had ever considered or acted out. Even if it were all a ruse, she was anxious about how she would be remembered. Would all of her actions of loyalty and love for her family be forgotten for a lie?
Melara finished checking her armour, bringing it to a more comfortable level. She began walking toward her horse after some men tore down her tent. The horse did not seem nervous as it stood around tethered to a pole nearby. I envy your ignorance. I'll be scared throughout this entire debacle while you'll only be afraid when we get close to the battlefield.
She put a foot in one of the stirrups and threw her other leg over the horse to mount it. Melara kept herself steady on the horse and untied the the rope that kept it in one place. The horse took a few steps to take note of its temporary freedom but then returned to standing still. Melara took the reins, she hesitated to grip them. I could get off this horse and go back inside the keep right now. If I march, there's no turning back from this.
Melara shook her head. No, fear would not take her. She had already made quite the impression by declaring to join the army that would take part in the battle down south. If she were to retreat now, she would look weak, foolish even. If she backed down, her position as provisional ruler of Casterly Rock would be put into question. This was not something she could afford and neither was allowing Sheerans-as distant as they may be-to die.
Melara gripped the reins and watched the men gathering their things and preparing for the long march. They did not look nervous but were all quite young, possibly too young to have fought in the great battles her father had fought in his prime. These men were numerous, but the Tarly troops would have had much practice fighting in the wars that plagued The Reach. If it would indeed come down to tactical prowess, she needed a commander. If only Tywin were here.
"Melara!" Lord Elys' voice called.
Melara turned her head and saw Elys approaching her with a man next to him while some guards trailed behind. He was having trouble keeping pace with the man who walked next to him. The man was younger than Elys, but not by much: a decade at most. Melara did not recognize the man, but there must have been a reason for him to be with Elys, especially considering he wore a suit of armour just like some of the better-equipped soldiers in the army.
"What is it?" Melara asked.
"Is there any chance I can talk you out of this?"
Melara shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I have to do this."
"Are you sure? I don't want you to lose you to some lucky blade."
Melara nodded.
"I'm sure."
Elys sighed.
"No matter how hard I try, I can't convince you. As much as I don't want you to go, I at least want you to be successful. Introduce yourself."
The man standing next to Elys stepped forward and bent the knee.
"My lady, I wish to volunteer myself as a commander for your forces," he said.
"Who are you? Which house do you belong to?" Melara asked.
"My name is Symeon, my lady," the man introduced. "I am of no house, just a simple soldier. I've fought in your father's armies, I was even there at the battle against the Dothraki. Back then, I was but a young spearman. I may not be trained like the generals and lords of the realm, but I've learned quite a lot during my time as a soldier."
Melara smiled.
"You probably know more than these men around us. I accept your service, Symeon. Please, lead us to victory."
Symeon stood up and bowed his head.
"I will do as commanded, my lady."
"Make yourself ready, we'll be leaving soon."
Symeon nodded and walked off in a direction through the maze of tents. Elys crossed his arms and sighed.
"He'll do you a lot of good, but he's just one man. Hopefully, someone else comes forward or you luck into a man with a few skills in warfare," Elys said.
Melara frowned, thinking about her lack of leaders. She could promote one of the officers, but she did not have the time to look over each man. Suddenly, a recollection came to her, a recollection of someone who would be able to help.
"I think I'll be able to find someone," Melara said.
"If so, things may go well on the battlefield. Still... there's the matter of the political factors."
"I know, but we can't prevent that from happening, we can only pray. If that's everything, Elys, the first of the army should be ready."
Elys nodded.
"Stay away from the battlefield. I don't want you to get yourself killed."
Melara smiled.
"I promise. I want to show you that I keep my promises."
Elys bowed his head as Melara gripped the reins tightly and whipped her horse forward. She made her way to the front of the column that was forming as the camp around the army was in the final stages of being taken down. Melara inspected the troops. They could at least form up quickly and were making good time to march.
Melara's fate was sealed. With the army marching, any spies or scouts watching this camp would be aware that the Sheerans of Casterly Rock were on the march. There was no way to disband and go home; House Sheeran needed to see the things they started to the end. Melara took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. She opened them and took one last look at Casterly Rock before turning around to join the troops in their march. Dark Dell Reyna Sheeran
The only light in the darkness were the great beacons of burning ships in the small harbour. Reyna had accompanied the army, leaving Alekyne, Alton, and a small token force back in Oakenshield. She wondered if she made the right choice in coming here as she stared at the small harbour from the safety of a nearby hill. Men still fought in the brightly lit areas down below, mostly around some of the last remaining ships that had yet to be burned. As her men continued prevailing, she began to believe that she did the right thing.
I'm fighting. That's more than my grandfather and mother have done. Even if I fail, I fought.
There was enough light from the flames to grant a bit of vision to Reyna. She could vaguely see the men around her as she listened to the yelling and clanging steel. Ser Willas rode out of the darkness and joined Reyna on the hill. He bowed his head and smiled.
"We took them completely by surprise! Without these ships, they won't be able to attack Oakenshield anytime soon!" Ser Willas reported happily.
"That's good, we scored a victory," Reyna said.
Ser Willas sighed.
"A small one. It's the men that fight battles, not ships. There was only a small force here, but we still took a couple of losses."
"We need our troops more than the Tarlys need theirs."
"Well, we've done what we can. The men will be happy for some time, they might still think we have a chance."
"We do, Casterly Rock will come."
Ser Willas shook his head.
"We've heard nothing from Casterly Rock. For all we know, they're not coming. I wouldn't blame them, would they really risk a war with House Waynwood over us?"
Reyna nodded.
"Melara would."
"If you say so, my lady."
"I know she's coming."
Ser Willas bowed his head.
"Of course, my lady. But now that we've done what we came to do here, we need to prepare our withdrawal. I'll have some men finish up with the burning while the rest head for our ships."
"We need to leave and get to Middlebury before the Tarlys catch us."
"Yes, my lady. I'll go off and make the preparations immediately."
Reyna said nothing as Ser Willas returned to the darkness. She looked down at the fighting which had ended. The men were beginning to burn the last ship in the harbour, cheering and chanting as it slowly burned and then eventually bursting in flames. That final surge lit up everything before humbling itself and allow the darkness to encroach once more.
She listened to the cries of the men. Some chanted for House Sheeran, a few for Oakenshield, and the majority simply cheering for victory. They stood around the burning ships like a giant campfire, making merry as if a battle had not even been fought. Although, this was no battle. This was a skirmish and that was being generous. While the ships may have bought Oakenshield time, Middlebury was still in danger and she did not have the forces to intercept the Tarlys. At Middlebury was where she would make her stand against the much larger Tarly host. With no more offensive roles to take in this conflict, the fate of House Sheeran of Oakenshield now resided in the hands of Melara. Reyna was not fully sure that Melara was going to come as promised, if not, at least her house would go down fighting. She whipped her reins lightly and pushed her horse toward the direction that Ser Willas had went.
Old Oak Melara Sheeran
If she was not too late before, now it was definitely for Melara to turn back. The border between The Westerlands and Reach had been crossed. To some, this would look like an undeclared war, an invasion of House Waynwood's territory by House Sheeran. There was no time for negotiations, if everyone was going to think that Melara's army was an aggressor, so be it. But if that were the case, she needed to march quickly and join with the Sheerans of Oakenshield. If she did, maybe Reyna could make a case in favour of Casterly Rock's incursion.
Someone announced that a lone rider was approaching the front of the column from behind. Melara turned around and saw a man coming toward her. At first she thought it was Symeon, a man now in command of a large portion of the army. It was not him, however, but still, the actual identity of the man made Melara smile.
"Tyrek!" Melara called happily.
"Lady Melara!" Tyrek greeted.
Tyrek had retired as the captain of her father's guards before his death. The man was someone who Melara could trust and knew of his talents. He had served alongside her father since he was a young man adventuring in Essos. Tyrek may have been a bodyguard, but he was always close at hand when her father planned his campaigns.
He looked terrible. Older than her father by a few years, Tyrek's face looked like a shrivelled up grape. Melara honestly had no idea how the man could wear a full suit of armour, let alone even mount his horse. She hoped that his mind still worked as if he were in the tents watching her father take command all those years ago, but she had her doubts.
"You look great, my lady," Tyrek said.
"You've gotten old, very old."
Tyrek laughed, even his laughter had changed as it was now strained by age.
"I still got some fight left in me, my lady. Although, I don't think you called me back into service to fight your battles."
Melara nodded.
"You're right. I need another commander to help with commanding the army; one man to six-thousand troops isn't the best ratio."
"Well, you picked the right man for the job. I've picked up a few things from watching your father. Now, if I could just remember them..."
Melara frowned.
"You don't remember anything?"
Tyrek smiled and laughed as he slapped Melara on the shoulder with his gauntlets, the impact blunted by her leather armour.
"I'm only joking! The Reach is perfect for me, flat open fields as far as the eye can see! Although, instead of Dothraki, we're fighting prissy little Reachmen!"
"House Tarly's troops would've had plenty of practice with their civil wars. When's the last time the Sheeran army fought?"
"House Tarly, bah, they paint a hunter on their banners to compensate for the fact that they aren't soldiers."
Melara shook her head.
"I'd like you to think of actual strategies instead of joking about the enemy. Our scouts haven't returned yet and I'm getting worried."
"We should have a little fun before marching off to our deaths."
Melara sighed.
"I'm starting to think this was a bad idea..."
Tyrek growled.
"Where is the daughter of Humfrey Sheeran that I know?! A child of Humfrey Sheeran never runs from a fight, in fact, they run straight for it!"
"She's right here, Tyrek."
"Listen to yourself, such fear and uncertainty in your voice. How do you hope to win a battle like that?"
"You're right, I need to be fearless, like my father."
Tyrek shook his head.
"Fearless? Gods no! Your father was scared more times than I can count. He was practically soiling himself at the thought of having to fight a Dothraki Khalasaar the likes history had never seen."
"Then, why are you complaining about me?"
"Because, when your father got scared, he'd always look toward his obligations, his reasons to fight."
"Reasons?"
Tyrek nodded.
"Yes, reasons. Whether it was for a contract, loyalty to the King, or just plain survival, every fight he went in to had a reason to go along with it."
"Yes, I have many reasons to be here."
"Go on then, list them. Although, I wouldn't pick survival if I were you, it's quite overdone and generally makes people go mad when their own life is at stake."
Melara smiled.
"I'll take your word on it. As for my reasons, I am here to help Reyna Sheeran of Oakenshield, she is family and must be protected as if she were a sister or daughter."
"Family, that's a good one. Anything else?"
"I made Reyna a promise, I promised I would march to her aid if the Tarlys showed signs of attacking. I must keep my promises no matter what."
Tyrek clapped his hands together.
"Self-worth? Haven't heard that one often, it's usually the unique ones that drive people the most. What else makes you feel like you have to be here?"
Melara took some time to think about it. She smiled and turned her head to Tyrek to reveal her joking expression.
"Survival."
Tyrek scowled at Melara for a second before smiling.
"If you want to go mad, go ahead. I won't stop you. Pfft, Sheerans, always ready to jump into the action."
Melara laughed.
"I wouldn't say that's necessarily true, Elys didn't want this to happen."
"Elys! How is the little man?"
"He isn't that short, but he's doing fine; he's doing everything he can to ease the transition after my father passed."
"Elys will always be living in the shadows of your grandfather and Lord Humfrey. Lord Humfrey... shame he died. I thought for a man of his strength and activity, he'd live to be a hundred at least."
Melara frowned.
"He was so obsessed over something in his last few days. Always locking himself in his study to read book after book. I don't know what got into him."
"Humfrey Sheeran reading a book? Bah, he'd sooner cleave it in half with his sword."
"He wasn't one to read, yes, but my father was looking for something. He either let what he was looking for die with him or told Tywin when he got to speak with him alone."
"A shame such a great warrior perished to reading a bunch of books. As for Tywin, how is he? I've heard good things."
Melara smiled, at leas there was something good to talk about.
"Tywin's grown up to be a great man. He's found love, learned many things, and is serving on the Small Council in the spot my father left behind."
"The Small Council? How old is he?"
"Seventeen."
"Gods! That's got to be the youngest in history! He's already done well for being the third Sheeran on the small council, but at seventeen?"
"He really has done well for himself."
Tyrek nodded.
"That he has. But you've done quite well for yourself too. How many daughters can say they've marched at the head of a column? Why, I'd say you are a reincarnation of Daenerys or Allyria Targaryen!"
Melara laughed quietly to herself.
"Allyria Targaryen was still alive when I was born."
"Still, think about that, you're on par with the legendary Dragon Queens."
Melara smiled and stared thoughtfully ahead. A warmness began to gather in her head. It was not from the sun beating down on the open fields, it was from embarrassment, her shyness about even being compared with them. To be compared to the other great women of history put Melara in a small state of euphoria, briefly forgetting about the world and the battle she was marching toward. She began to grow optimistic of her legacy and wondered about the girls of the future who would look up to her like she did with Allyria Targaryen.
"It's good to have you back, Tyrek."
"Hopefully I last the week."
The two shared a laugh. Tyrek's dark humour made the march a lot less boring, even if some of the joke's truths made Melara's skin crawl. She began to understand why her father valued such a companion: it was not just the history they shared, but Tyrek's personality. He must have helped her father through so many horrible times with his encouragement, humour, and presence; he was certainly doing the same to Melara.
Melara stopped laughing and looked ahead on the road. She spotted some of her scouts returning from their mission. The column continued marching, closing the distance even quicker than if they simply waited. As the scouts approached, Melara saw something in the far distance behind them. It looked like a forest, spread far and wide with shades of green and black.
One of the scouts charged ahead of his companions and bowed his head when he approached Melara.
"What have you seen?" Melara asked.
"My lady, the Waynwood army is marching in response to our movements! We'll be face to face with them in two hours and they are already arrayed in battle formations!" the scout reported.
"That's what I saw in the distance, it's the Waynwood army. If only I dispatched the scouts sooner, we might've been able to march around them."
"My lady, the Waynwoods have deployed large amount of cavalry at their flanks, they will be able to respond to us marching around them."
"Thank you for your report, get some rest alongside the rest of the scouts."
The scout bowed his head and rode toward the rear of the column followed by the rest. Melara raised her hand, prompting officers down the entire column to yell for their men to halt. She stared forward and saw what she thought was the forest. It was truly the Waynwood army, displaying banners of green and black like some dark forest.
"I'll go have a talk with this Symeon, we're going to need to think of something," Tyrek said.
"Please hurry, I don't know what to do."
Tyrek smiled.
"Don't worry yourself, my lady. Leave the commanding to me and Symeon. All you need to do is stay alive so our men can be inspired to defend you."
Tyrek rode off toward the rear like the scouts in order to find Symeon. Such a free spirit for an old man, maybe getting older won't be so bad, Melara thought as she pulled her hair into view to check for any silver strands. There were a few but not as many as she thought there were, a much needed relief in a time of crisis.
However, her distractions could not last forever and Melara looked forward to scan the Waynwood army so far toward the horizon. She was in The Reach and far from home. The Waynwoods would rally their whole forces as they most likely believed an invasion was happening. They must have been aware that I left Casterly Rock, how could they have caught me so close to the border? she thought.
Melara's eyes widened and she audibly gasped when she remembered just who she was up against. The Waynwoods, the family of her late husband Hugh Waynwood. Some had been under the suspicion that she had murdered Hugh, now, those same people were most likely in some way in that army. She wanted to talk to Anya Waynwood at first, but then she realized that it was Anya who prosecuted Reyna's mother for the murder of Hugh Waynwood. Would she seek vengeance?
If that were the case, then Melara would have no choice, she would have to fight as there was no way she would be able to outrun the enemy on their own territory. Melara gripped the reins tightly and bit her lip, inhaling and exhaling at a great rate. She made crying noises, coming out in short bursts while her eyes remained dry. In her bliss and also her determination, the reality of this confrontation had never come to her. Now, it hit her like a mace to a helmet. No longer could she think about the promises she made to Reyna and Elys, the only promise now was the promise of battle.
The two armies faced each other in formation. Both sides showed their discipline, their eagerness, but it was the Sheeran forces that showed weakness through their smaller numbers. Things looked dire, a confrontation with the Waynwood army would send Melara and her troops all the way back to The Westerlands. This was not the way she wanted to go, she needed to be moving south to aid House Sheeran of Oakenshield in battle.
She stared at the enemy, their banners held high while their battleline was of great width. Cavalry on the flanks with archers at the rear, such a simple formation, but why would the Waynwoods need to think so hard when their numbers practically assured victory? They had to be at least fifteen-thousand which was almost three times the amount Melara had brought.
Tyrek and Symeon rode to join Melara at the front of the army. They both bowed their heads and turned to look ahead at the doom ahead of them.
"Stay back, my lady, we might have battle soon," Symeon warned.
"Have you thought of anything?" Melara asked, a small crack in the voice to reveal her fear.
Tyrek shook his head.
"We've done everything we can. This is the highest elevation for leagues and we have the spears to our flanks to keep the cavalry from smashing us," Tyrek answered.
"We could leave a few men behind to stall while the majority retreat," Symeon suggested.
Has it really come to this? Are we going to have to abandon not just Reyna, but these men that loyally followed me here? Melara thought. She frowned and sighed, contemplating the hopelessness of the situation. Melara could not help but count soldiers every time she glanced at them. They were so many and she would lose herself just staring at them. Tyrek cleared his throat, it sounded like he was choking as he spit out some excess saliva onto the ground.
"If we're going to have to do that, I'll lead the rearguard," Tyrek said.
"Tyrek, no!" Melara yelled.
"I'm going to die soon, might as well get it over with."
Symeon raised his hand, keeping it up as he rode forward. Melara and Tyrek followed as this was definitely a gesture to get away from the soldiers who might hear.
"Don't be ridiculous, Tyrek, the infantry will kill you all while the cavalry chases us down. The only men that have any hopes of getting out is anyone that can get themselves a horse," Symeon argued quietly.
Melara clenched her fists and continued watching for any movements. There was movement, a few banners navigating through the formations. She had seen officers ride around the army, but this was different, the group that was still obstructed by troops all seemed to be carrying a banner.
"We've gotten ourselves into quite a mess. My lady, you should just go now. Flee while you can." Tyrek said.
Melara shook her head.
"Everyone knows I'm here, how would it make House Sheeran look to have a coward among them? I cannot flee, House Sheeran is perceived to be strong and I cannot do anything to hurt that image," Melara said.
"Well, I'm sorry, my lady. There's just no way we can win this."
Melara ignored Tyrek's comment and looked forward. The moving banners revealed themselves to be a group of riders lead by someone not in armour. It was a woman, wearing a dress while the men around her were covered from head to toe in steel. As the banners the men carried flapped in the wind, Melara caught a glimpse of a flag of truce.
"Maybe we won't have to fight."
"Gods, a flag of truce. I pray this is a parley and not an exchange of insults," Symeon said.
As the group approached Melara's army, she noticed the woman at the front was quite old, unable to tell if her hair was a headdress or actual silver hair until now. Anya Waynwood, Melara thought. She never actually met her, but no other woman in The Reach could boast an army this big.
"Come on, we can talk our way out of this," Melara said.
"Maybe you should ask for safe passage home, my lady," Symeon suggested.
"As cowardly as it is, I think we should play it safe and do what Symeon said. Anya Waynwood doesn't have the nicest of reputations; she might just kill us all to even demand such a thing," Tyrek said.
"I have to try," Melara said as she urged her horse forward.
"My lady!" both men yelled.
Melara charged forward and Ayna Waynwood did the same. She did not look back to see if Tyrek and Symeon were following, but she assumed they were as Anya's men were doing the same. Once they were close enough to speak, both women pulled on the reins and halted their horses which neighed loudly. Melara took note of the fact that Anya's guards were keeping back. She turned around and held out her palm to get Tyrek and Symeon to halt.
Anya began trotting forward, her demeanour was much more relaxed as she slightly leaned back and tilted her head in way that looked like she was staring down at Melara despite her lean. In contrast, Melara could feel the tension in her joints while her fingers shook. She sat up straight on her saddle, trying to maintain a somewhat ladylike manner despite the fact her fear and the leather armour she wore betrayed that.
"Lady Melara Sheeran," Anya greeted, her voice so posh and crisp despite the sound of distant hooves and yelling.
"Anya Waynwood," Melara said, trying to match Anya's calmness.
Anya smiled.
"An invasion into my lands, I presume? I see you're quite dressed for it."
"No, my lady, House Sheeran has no quarrel with you."
"Really? No quarrel at all? Considering that some of your family blame me for the crimes against them."
"We do not wish to fight you."
"Then why are you here? Oh, I already know that, why play such games? You're here to save Reyna Sheeran aren't you."
Melara hesitated and then gritted her teeth.
"Yes, Lady Anya, I'm here to aid Reyna Sheeran in battle against House Tarly. Just how did you know that?"
Anya laughed, she looked to be as old as Tyrek and yet somehow her laugh still sounded as if it came from someone Melara's age.
"I know what happens in The Reach. Just what makes you think a war between two houses is something so easily concealed? People are already talking about the burning of Dark Dell and siege of Middlebury."
"Siege of Middlebury?"
"Oh yes, House Tarly has already laid siege to Middlebury. The castle will last for years according to what I've heard, but it's not their food stores they should be worrying about."
"Lady Anya, there was no time, but I must ask you for permission to march through your lands. Please, I can defeat the Tarlys for you. I know you're not fond of House Tarly so why waste your own troops?"
Anya smiled and nodded.
"At least you are informed. Yes, House Tarly loved my brother Hugh more than they do with me."
The muttering of Hugh's name made Melara remember the few short times she had with him. She could feel her spine begin dancing, shaking itself. Where is this going? she thought, believing that Hugh would have some relevance to the conversation despite the fact he had been dead for years.
"With the Tarlys destroyed or at least weakened, they won't be able to challenge you ever again."
"Or, I could buy their loyalty by executing a foreign invader who also just happens to be the one who killed Hugh."
Melara recoiled back. She was tempted to turn her horse and run while she could, believing that things were getting worse and there was no going back. Her hands held the reins tightly, ready to turn back at any second. No, I made a promise.
"I didn't kill Hugh."
"That's what everyone in The Reach has come to believe."
"They're rumours, a sudden illness had taken Hugh, he even showed the symptoms for weeks apparently."
Anya smiled and tilted her head to the side. She nodded.
"Oh I believe you. I know for a fact that Hugh was too proud to see a Maester."
Melara scowled at Anya.
"Then why haven't you done anything to quash them? Even then, you're willing to believe me on my word alone?"
"I have quite a gift, I tend to know when people lie to me; a power granted to me because of all the times I've been betrayed."
"So that's it, you're just going to kill me and all of my men?"
"Don't tempt me. The death of Lanna Sheeran granted me quite a bit of favour among Hugh's loyal followers. To kill the woman everyone believes did the deed shall possibly make me worshipped by even the most steadfast of Hugh's loyalists."
Melara shook her head. There has to be a way to convince her. Why does she want to appease House Tarly so much? she thought. Her thoughts returned to her days spending time with Tywin who would sometimes read aloud or discuss what he read with Melara. They were quite boring memories, but she had to admit she learned quite a bit, including about politics. Then, Melara had found her answer.
"You're going to die soon, Anya."
Anya pressed her lips and squinted at Melara.
"Is that a threat?"
"No, my lady, it's my argument. There are probably some who'd still call you traitor while others just hate you. But why debase yourself by listening to such gossip? You are a woman to be feared and nobody would question you. Your children, however, can the same be said about them?"
"What of them? I've raised them well."
"You may have, my lady. But think about this. If you were to kill me now, you could gain the respect of House Tarly. But by the looks of you, you don't seem to have many years left. What would House Tarly think of your heirs? You killed me but your children didn't. By slaughtering my men, you've only temporarily kept the Tarlys in check while making a permanent enemy of House Sheeran. But, if you were to let me march to Reyna's aid, House Tarly would be weakened for generations to come."
Anya smiled and clapped her hands. Even her clapping was somehow posh, quick claps that she did off to the side.
"Impressive, Melara. I must say, I have always wanted Reyna to win her little war; I can barely stomach the thought of avenging Hugh, I really did hate him."
Melara grunted.
"Then why the games?! Let me pass now, with my troops, House Tarly will be defeated!"
"I wanted to speak with a Sheeran of Casterly Rock myself. I can see why your house has managed to topple House Lannister."
"You've got what you wanted. Now may I head south with my men?"
Anya nodded.
"Go on, the Tarlys are probably attacking Middlebury as we speak. You have my word that you will not be opposed by anyone other than the Tarlys and their bannermen."
Melara did not even bid Anya farewell. She turned her horse around and charged back toward her army, ready to continue the march as the day was still young. Safe passage was not the only thing that Anya had given Melara, trembling hands and sweat dripping down her cheeks were among a few of her gifts.
Tyrek and Symeon kept their hands close to the hilts of their swords while reversing their horses. They timed their accelerations so it would line up with Melara passing them.
"My lady! What happened?!" Symeon asked in a panicked tone.
"The Waynwoods have allowed us to pass! We must march now while we still can!"
"That's great! But what makes you think Anya's going to keep her word?" Tyrek asked.
Melara looked forward at her army. She smiled and nodded.
"Because Anya Waynwood knows when someone is telling the truth or not, that includes herself."
King's Landing Tywin Sheeran
"We have received emissaries from the Qaartheen and Yi Ti, I don't think we can ignore this any longer, Your Grace," Tywin warned.
The Small Council was not as overwhelming as Tywin thought it would be. These meetings reminded Tywin of the council meetings back home. Corlos, Lymond, Elys, Samwell, and Andros, he could remember all of their names. While the scale of the issues they discussed were much greater than affairs in The Westerlands, not much had changed.
Tywin tried to do his job as best as he could. He most certainly had the military knowledge, but his mind turned elsewhere. Stratagems and military affairs were replaced by the thoughts of his family, more specifically Melara and Arwyn. Arwyn had not long ago given birth to the child she was having with Tywin. The child was a son, a handsome young lad who took after his father. Shortly after the birth, Tywin and Arwyn finally agreed on a name for him, Sumner.
Arwyn and little Sumner were safe. It was his sister Melara that he worried about. Tywin sighed as he thought about her predicament. She was marching off to battle with barely any experience in territory far away from friendly lands. Little news had come from the conflict down south, Tywin only had rumours to rely on for the latest information of Melara's movements.
"Let them fend for themselves," Jacaerys said.
Tywin perked up. His worries for his family had taken him so much that he forgot what that he was in the King's council. He sat up straight and opened his mouth to speak.
"Your Grace, this threat shouldn't be taken lightly, if the Qaartheen and Yi Ti are asking for aid, they must be having trouble with these Brindlemen."
"Why should we care? Our vassals in Essos have yet to be effected. When these Brindlemen come, we will march to fight them off. They may be able to give the armies of those peoples trouble, but what can these Brindlemen do to dragons?"
"The Brindlemen were able to survive conditions that even the Dragonlords of Old Valyria did not."
Maerys Targaryen, the Master of Whispers snorted.
"A man of learning I see. Maester Delinar's Histories of Far Off Lands?" Maerys asked with a smile.
"Actually, it was Maester Gelson's Compendium of Colonies," Tywin answered
"Ah, my second guess."
Jacaerys snapped his fingers.
"You can talk about books later. My decision is final, let the Qaartheen and Yi Ti handle it. I wish to move on to other business that only relates to Lord Tywin. The rest of you may leave," Jacaerys commanded.
The men who sat at the council began to gather their things and stand up from their chairs. Tywin had not taken the time to get to know the men, not even to learn their names. Maerys Targaryen was the only one that he was familiar with and that was because he had noticed him often at the libraries reading to himself; so entranced in his learning that he never really acknowledged Tywin's love for books until now.
While only Tywin was asked to stay, Maerys defied Jacaerys' command and stayed seated. Jacaerys seemed annoyed, looking away from Maerys and sighing.
"What did you wish to speak with me about?" Tywin asked.
"Your sister has been making trouble in The Reach. I'm told there's threat of war."
"I can assure you, Your Grace, House Sheeran and Waynwood will not go to war."
"What can you tell me of the conflict?"
Tywin cleared his throat, stalling for time. Frankly, he knew just as much as Jacaerys did. He did know of his sister's motives, but would Jacaerys care?
"I believe it started when Lady Reyna Sheeran of Oakenshield declared rebellion against House Tarly. My sister wanted to help her and has gathered some of my troops."
"Did she have your consent?"
Tywin hesitated. He was no fool, he knew why Jacaerys was looking into this, he wanted to see if Melara marched off on Tywin's command. Was this some kind of mistrust? The King had dismissed Tywin's father on a sour note. Jacaerys was squinting slightly, a sign of suspicion. Does he think I want vengeance for my father's dismissal? Tywin thought. He then slowly shook his head, reluctantly giving his answer.
"No, Your Grace, I did not order my sister to march south."
"Just where is this going?" Maerys asked.
"So if you didn't order her, she is a traitor." Jacaerys said.
Tywin shook his head.
"No, Your Grace, I don't consider her a traitor," Tywin answered.
"Why not?"
"She is marching to the aid of House Sheeran. I support her actions, even if she acted without my command."
"Will you punish her?"
"No, Your Grace."
Jacaerys sighed.
"If this escalates, I will not hesitate to have her executed in order to keep the peace."
Tywin frowned.
"I understand, Your Grace. I think my sister understands that too."
"Maerys, if you learn anything, you will tell me. Wars between my vassals will not be tolerated."
Maerys bowed his head.
"Of course," Maerys said.
"I will take my leave."
Tywin and Maerys bowed their heads as Jacaerys stood up and left the room followed by his Kingsguard. Maerys did not stand up and joined Tywin in remaining seated. Tywin exhaled and rested his hands on the table. Melara, you've gotten the attention of the King, I really hope you know what you're doing, he thought.
"Your sister is doing fine; Anya Waynwood has allowed your army passage through her lands," Maerys reported.
Tywin sat up straight.
"Really? And you didn't tell the King?" Tywin asked.
"She's heading to Middlebury to lift the siege, but, I don't know if she's going to make it."
"Why haven't you told the King?"
"Do you share the same feelings about threats to the realm as your father?"
The Realm. The thing father wanted me to always act in the interests of, Tywin thought. It did not take long for Tywin to figure out that he was speaking about the Dornish which was the same thing his father had warned about. He nodded.
"If you're speaking about the Dornish, I consider their plot a threat to the realm."
Maerys smiled.
"Good, I was wondering if you could be trusted. As for your question, I've come to the conclusion that Anya Waynwood has been compromised, an agent of the Dornish."
"It makes sense, she had to have gotten her support from somewhere. But, what does that have to do with the King?"
"Because Jacaerys has also been compromised. The Small Council is nothing but puppets on a string, feeding my brother lies and deception in service to their true masters. We already saw it when Jonas Lolliston convinced the King that your father should be dismissed from service because of his age."
"The Hand of the King works for the Dornish?"
Maerys frowned and nodded.
"He swears fealty to House Wyl, a Dornish house. He may claim to serve the King, but removing your father was a part of his agenda from the very beginning."
Tywin shook his head.
"But if he had my father removed, why would the King appoint me?"
Maerys sighed.
"Frankly, it was a miracle that you were chosen. Maybe my brother still has some respect for your father, but keep in mind that your appointment was not part of the plan."
"I have much to learn about all of this. I only vaguely know of the Dornish threat."
"It is quite complex, considering the Dornish have had a motive since Allyria Targaryen had Janyce Martell hanged for her rebellion. We will speak later, Lord Tywin. I will be sure to have you catch up. Your father may have fallen into their traps, but you, I think you can make a difference."
Maerys bowed his head and stood up. He neatly pushed his seat back so it would be where it was before the council meeting. This actually made the chair stick out as the others relied on servants to prepare the chamber for the next meeting. Tywin bowed his head and waited for Maerys to leave as he sighed to himself.
There was so much to learn and Tywin contemplated all of the problems in the silence of the chamber. At first he thought the other men were shunning him because of his age, but they were truly his political opponents. They most definitely had a head start on gaining some knowledge about Tywin. Melara had allowed Tywin to take Faithful and joked about him needing as many friendly faces in the capital. He thought it was a joke at first, but it turned out to be a horrible truth.
Tywin thought he was ready for the capital. He was far from it. His naivety frustrated him, making him tap the table at a quick pace. Is this Dornish plot really as bad as Maerys says it is? Tywin thought. His impression of the threat was not as dire as Maerys made it out to be. They were biding their time, sure, but to have infiltrated the Small Council so thoroughly? How could Tywin do what was asked of him with so many rivals in his immediate vicinity? Even the King would not be of any help, Tywin was worried Jacaerys was not favourable of him because of Melara's actions. As much as he loved his sister, Tywin wondered if the King would not have been so apprehensive toward him if not for Melara's march. Middlebury Reyna Sheeran
The men cheered as they threw off the ladders on the walls while archers and crossbowmen continued shooting. Reyna had come out of the keep when she heard that another assault had been repelled. There were some dead in the courtyard, mostly from men who fell off the wall. The majority of the corpses were on the walls and on the ground before the castle's walls.
Middlebury was a modest keep, built alongside the Mander River to negate an attack from the west. With only three sections of walls to defend, Reyna's small army could hold off the enemy for now. She saw Ser Willas and Ser Arthur were talking by the portcullis. Ser Willas looked fine, but Ser Arthur's armour had streaks and patches of blood scattered across the breastplate. Reyna could not hear their conversation as the sounds of battle still held out as the Tarly army pulled back.
Ser Arthur seemed to notice Reyna coming and pointed so Ser Willas would also look. The two men bowed their heads when Reyna approached them.
"My lady," the two knights said in unison.
"You two held off another attack," Reyna said.
Ser Willas shook his head and then laid a hand on Ser Arthur's shoulder.
"I was only commanding the men, I'm too old to fight among the troops," Ser Willas.
"Master Feldston has ensured that Middlebury was ready for this siege; he knew a conflict was coming," Ser Arthur said.
"A shame I never got to meet him," Reyna said sadly.
Ser Arthur frowned.
"He would have loved to meet you, but the man was old. Fortunately, he lived long enough to hear about your desire to fight the Tarlys. The man believed you could end your house's suffering."
Reyna stared out through the openings of the portcullis, looking at the retreating Tarly troops who were disappearing into their siege camp that surrounded the castle.
"He spoke highly of me. Am I worthy?"
"As long as we still have a chance at winning this, you're worthy of the man's praise, my lady," Ser Willas answered.
"Do we have a chance? The Tarlys have been attacking a lot more often recently."
"Lady Melara should be in The Reach by now, if she is coming at all," Ser Arthur said.
The Tarly banners still flew high in the siege camp. If they were tiring or being ground down, Reyna did not see it. There were many close calls during the last few days as the Tarly troops launched assault after assault. Every time they came, Reyna would hide in the keep and listen to the sounds of battle, listening to figure out if the walls were taken by how close the fighting was. Fortunately for her, Reyna the horrific sounds of yelling, screaming, and steel never got any closer to the keep.
"We'll run out of arrows and bolts soon. Things will be getting more difficult from this day on," Ser Willas warned.
"The battlements will provide good cover against enemy archers. As long as we keep remaining vigilant for ladders, the walls will hold long enough for the Sheeran reinforcements," Ser Arthur said.
"Do we even know if they're coming?"
"They're coming, I know it. Why else are the Tarlys attacking so much?" Reyna argued.
"Good point, my lady," Ser Willas said.
The soldiers on the walls began coming down, carrying the dead who wore Reyna's sigil. If they just pushed me out of the gate, this would all be over. And yet, they still fight and die, she thought. So many sacrifices, all for her, some young woman who had a somewhat famous name. Reyna was no warrior or commander, why would these men be so loyal to her?
Reyna thought about Oakenshield. She thought of Jonah and Castellan Alekyne, smiling at the thought of coming home to a cured Jonah. Although, she had been told there was little hope even as Reyna had ordered the Maester to keep bringing in help to cure Jonah. As saddening as the potential death was, it gave Reyna a reason to survive. She clenched a fist and rested it on her chest, her desire for closure would be why victory needed to be achieved.
"Ser Arthur! The Tarlys are building something!" a soldier yelled.
Ser Arthur ran up a set of stairs to the top of the wall. Reyna and Ser Willas followed with the latter trailing behind due to his age. The soldier who called from above bowed his head when Reyna arrived and then pointed out at a section of the Tarly siege camp. It took some time to see where the soldier was pointing specifically, but Reyna and Ser Arthur eventually found what they needed to see as Ser Willas arrived.
"What is it?" Ser Willas asked.
"I don't know what I'm looking at," Reyna said.
Ser Arthur did not say anything and walked all the way up to the edge of the battlements, leaning through the gap between the merlons.
"They've been building siege towers," Ser Arthur said.
"Siege towers? Gods, so that's what they were gathering the wood for," Ser Willas said.
It did not take engineering or knowledge of siege warfare to know what the siege towers would do to the walls. Reyna had heard the ladders were easy to knock off the wall, but a siege tower was a different story. She could see the fear in the men's eyes, hear their whispers as she smelled the pungent odour of the dead seeping into her nostrils. Melara's coming, we must hold, Reyna thought. But the question was no longer about whether Melara was coming or not, it was now about whether or not her men would hold out for their arrival. As Melara eyed the small ants that worked on the siege towers, the answer to that question was becoming a frightening prospect.
Jacaerys is looking for an excuse. I mean on one level it is understandable. House Sheeran are very powerful - too powerful for some monarchs, especially perhaps those not quite sure of their own power. Most especially those who still perhaps feel indebted (even if they would refuse to acknowledge that themselves).
"You'll die!" Reyna cried.
"We're all going to die if we don't get those siege towers taken care of," Ser Willas argued.
"Just because some Oakenshield men volunteered doesn't mean you have to go too," Ser Arthur said.
The Tarly attacks had stopped for some time. Instead of relief, tension had taken over the castle. Men were silent as they patrolled the castle while keeping their weapons close. After so many small victories holding off attack after attack, the sight of Tarly siege towers had swiftly disposed of any hopes of victory among the majority of the garrison.
Yet, there were those that still resisted, those whose fears had not prevailed over them. Reyna felt uncomfortable when a group of men volunteered to attack the Tarly camp in order to stop the siege tower construction. What made things worse was when Ser Willas volunteered to lead the men.
His face was one that Reyna always kept in her mind as he was one of her closest confidants. He had served her mother and even grandfather; she could not even conceive the idea of a world without one of her inner circle. The man's face was stern while his body stiffened. Ser Willas sighed and frowned.
"The plan is to split up in two groups. The large one will create a distraction while the smaller one waits for the opportunity to destroy the siege towers," Ser Willas explained.
"You still don't have to go," Reyna said.
"The enemy knows of us. If one of us were to lead the larger group, the Tarlys may just take it more seriously; it'll draw enough of the enemy away for the smaller group."
"They wouldn't take the bait. They know they need the towers and wouldn't keep it unguarded," Ser Arthur said.
Ser Willas nodded.
"That's why I need as many of the archers and crossbowmen I can get, along with all the arrows and bolts we have left."
"What are you planning?"
"The larger group will fire arrows into the camp, keeping it up until the enemy responds by charging out to meet us. If we can kill enough men, we could draw out a large amount of the guards which would be enough that the siege towers can be burned without any issues."
"You'll die and we need everyone here," Reyna said.
Ser Willas shook his head.
"We won't stand a chance when those siege towers reach our walls."
"Perhaps we could retreat into the keep and hold the tight corridors?" Ser Arthur suggested.
"We need the walls to keep enough of the enemy out. They'll only slowly overwhelm us if we fought them."
Ser Arthur nodded.
"Ser Willas is right, my lady. The siege towers are all the Tarlys need for victory."
"Melara will come, all of us can live through this if we wait for her," Reyna begged.
"She's coming, but we still have no idea where she is as the Tarlys have blocked all ravens from going in or out," Ser Willas said.
"I don't want anymore of us to die."
"Sacrifices have to be made, my lady; I'm doing this so no more of us have to die."
Reyna slumped back in her chair. This was not what she wanted when she started this war. Her naivety had made her believe that a preemptive strike could hold the Tarlys long enough for reinforcements. As brilliant as the plan was in keeping Oakenshield safe, Reyna realized too late that the only losses the enemy would take were a few ships that could be rebuilt. And now, all she had to show for her early success was an enemy at the gates.
In her bravado, her desire to prevent what had happened to her predecessors, she ended up letting it happen again. This time was different, not in a good way but a bad one. This time, her followers would also pay the price for her actions. The seizures of her grandfather and mother were mostly bloodless affairs for her people. It was Reyna's family that the Tarlys were after, not them. Would it have been the right thing to do to let the cycle continue after so much death? The answer was vague, sure, people were getting killed for Reyna's sake, but many like Ser Willas were doing it willingly.
"What's stopping the Tarlys from rebuilding the towers and attacking us?" Reyna asked.
Ser Willas shook his head.
"Nothing. But it takes a fortnight to march from the border with The Westerlands. If they have to rebuild, it may just give us enough time for Casterly Rock's troops to arrive," Ser Willas answered.
"'Us,' I want that to include you too, Ser Willas."
"I know, my lady. I'm thankful to serve someone who cares for my life. I want to stay, I really do. But those men need a commander to lead them one last time. Besides, with Master Feldston gone, I think Ser Arthur is in need of a new ruler."
"Ser Willas, I still don't know..."
Ser Willas smiled.
"The only thing you need to know is that victory is coming, my lady."
Reyna stood up from her chair and began walking to the door, refusing to accept the man's determination.
"Just how do you plan on doing it, Ser Willas?" Ser Arthur asked as Reyna opened the door.
"We'll climb down the side with the river as they'll be watching the gate. We'll cross the river and then cross again when we are behind the enemy-" Ser Willas answered as Reyna slammed the door.
Reyna waited outside the council chamber and looked around at the hallway which had been stripped bare of any furnishings and fine items. She leaned against the wall of the corridor and began tearing up, letting her face squeeze in on itself to let the tears come out. During the battles, she could not prevent her men from losing their lives. But she felt as a friend, she had a chance to keep Ser Willas from leaving.
The failure was stinging. Although, she felt that she barely even tried. Something compelled her to lay off, to let this happen despite how much she wanted him to stay. Reyna did not fully understand what it was. Was it cowardice? Was it pragmatism? More people are going to die. Now, another person I care about will be taken by the Tarlys, she thought. As Ser Willas said, "Sacrifices have to be made." The only thing Reyna could hope for was Melara's arrival, so that Ser Willas' sacrifice would not be in vain. King's Landing Genna Sheeran
Genna had invited her nephew Tywin's wife Arwyn to lunch. The venue for this affair was one of the balconies of The Red Keep. It gave the two a great view of Blackwater Bay, glistening in the sunlight while ships came and went to the harbour. Such a sight put Genna at peace, letting the difficulties of being the Queen take a much needed vacation.
This was not the first time that she had met with Arwyn. Before, the girl was a nervous wreck that spilled more than she drank from just shaking. It was honestly quite endearing, watching her struggle to maintain her composure. The thought of embarrassing herself in front of Genna was probably what made her so shakey before. After a few chats and lunches, Arwyn had finally gotten a hold of herself. Although, some signs of her worries still showed themselves every now and then.
Today Arwyn had surprised Genna by bringing her son. Sumner would be her grandnephew, making Genna feel old even though some colour in her hair still remained. Genna had heard that the boy shared quite a resemblance to his father Tywin, she could definitely see it as he had his father's eyes. Those same eyes that displayed loyalty, determination, and skills beyond the common man.
Little Sumner reached for the desserts on the table with his little stubby arms. It made Genna smile, reminding her of her four sons when they were still young boys. Arwyn ripped a piece of lemon cake off and guided it into Sumner's mouth. The baby eagerly sucked in the pastry and chewed it quickly before swallowing it whole. Arwyn laughed, another thing she had not done much of in front of Genna until now.
"You've barely touched the lemon cake yourself," Genna said.
"I'm worried about what to eat," Arwyn said.
"Worried about what? Ah, you're pregnant again, aren't you?"
Arwyn sheepishly nodded.
"Yes, I am."
Genna smiled.
"Why that's wonderful! Take it from someone that's had four children of her own, the only thing you shouldn't touch while pregnant is drink, other than that, you're free to have whatever you want. It's good that you're having another child; Sumner would be quite lonely without a sibling. And with them being close in age, it'll be like how I grew up alongside Melara."
Melara, that was a name she had not heard much of in the later portion of her life. That ended when rumours of Melara marching through The Reach reached King's Landing. It was quite a juxtaposition, Genna would be Queen while Melara went off on adventures much like Humfrey did in his prime. It seemed fitting for the two to be where they were; Melara liked swords while Genna loved the court.
Still, she worried for her despite their rough childhood. She was like a sister to Genna and mostly all she had left ever since Humfrey died. But what could she do? She was the Queen, sure, but Jacaerys was not entirely happy about what was happening. Even for someone not as involved in the politics of The Red Keep, Genna could sense the growing tensions within the capital.
Maerys was preaching in secret of Dornish plots while men like Jonas Lolliston had rarely left the King's side. When she heard that Tywin was coming to take up Humfrey's old post, she was optimistic. She wondered if this young Sheeran lord could bring the Keep back to the days when everyone was still young and when Maerys still locked himself in his chambers.
But that turned out to make things worse. Everyone continued what they were doing and Jacaerys always seemed to keep a close eye on Tywin whenever they were in the same room together. Genna feared for Arwyn, would this beautiful and innocent flower be caught up in the machinations of the court? Would her children? It was a foolish notion to even think that whatever was happening would gloss over Tywin's children as if they did not exist. In the game, children are but players that have yet to learn the rules. Genna frowned at the sight of Sumner, a pure and beautiful boy that was certainly going to be caught up in some politics, whether he wanted to or not.
"How are things going between you and Tywin?" Genna asked as she poured herself a cup of wine.
Arwyn smiled and kicked her leg up and down slightly to bounce Sumner.
"Tywin has always been good to me," Arwyn answered, then, she frowned. "But I do worry for him because he works too hard."
"To serve the realm is hard work. He may get stressed, but he is doing good for the land."
"I know, but sometimes it takes him until late at night to come back to the manor."
Genna began to think about her marriage. She gripped her cup tightly, remembering the happiness of her wedding day, the joy they shared when their children were born. The wonderful times between her and Jacaerys were few in number these days, if they existed at all. She sighed and looked at Arwyn who seemed worried about what Genna was thinking.
"Tywin may spend many hours working, but when he does come home, how are things?"
"The first thing he does when he comes through the door is find me so he can give me a kiss and hug."
Genna smiled.
"Such a sweet thing to do. No wonder the people of The Westerlands love him. Cherish those times, learn to understand that even though he can't spend much time with you and the children, he still loves you. But also, make sure he understands that no matter how hard or long he works, you'll always be there to love him when he gets home."
Arwyn nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Genna laughed.
"You don't have to call my Your Grace in times like this. Now, why don't you touch the lemon cake? I don't think Little Sumner can finish it all by himself."
"Yes, Your Grace- sorry..."
Genna grinned and took some lemon cake for herself. She chewed slowly, thinking about what she had told Arwyn. If only I had someone to tell me what to do, maybe Jacaerys and I would still be happy, she thought. Genna was always upset at Jacaerys' long absences when he had to do his business or go off to war, she also used what little time they shared at night to air her grievances rather than be thankful for his presence. Jacaerys had his own share of the blame, but Genna began to wonder who really started the downward spiral between them. The web of issues and problems was weaved in a convoluted pattern that was difficult to decipher.
It seemed a little unfair for Arwyn to be given this knowledge while Genna had to earn it through decades of marriage, but she had no choice in the matter. Even then, it may have been too late, the only thing she could do was salvage the marriage rather than bring it back to what it once was. The only thing she could do was hope that Arwyn would not put this information to waste so that she and Tywin would be happy until the end of days. Middlebury Reyna Sheeran
Reyna stood on the battlements to watch the Tarly camp. It was dark, but the torches and fires outside gave her enough light to see that something was going on. Soldiers began to shuffle onto the walls and into the courtyard as the sounds of battle had alerted everyone, even if they were aware of Ser Willas' plans. While there was a lot of commotion and burning tents, the area where the siege towers were remained untouched. The entire goal of Ser Willas' plan was to burn the siege towers, worrying Reyna that many of her loyal men were going to die for nothing as the siege towers stood in defiance of Middlebury's last chance to win.
Ser Arthur crossed his arms and stood next to Reyna. The knight was in his robes instead of his armour that he wore during the day. He stood between the gaps of the merlons on the battlements, making him quite the target if it were daytime during a Tarly assault. Ser Arthur sighed and placed a hand on one of the merlons.
"The battle's still going, there's still hope, my lady," Ser Arthur said.
"The siege tower's haven't burned yet. Where is the smaller group?" Reyna asked.
"Ser Willas' distraction is still making a lot of noise, they're waiting for their chance to strike, my lady."
"They need to hurry."
"Give them time, my lady."
Reyna bit her lip as the battle continued to rage on. She let this happen and yet the results were not showing. Muttering a silent prayer, Reyna hoped for some sort of divine intervention to make sure that the sacrifice happening outside would not be a total waste. As each syllable passed, nothing changed. As each of the Seven received her prayer, nothing changed. As she repeated the entire thing again, nothing changed. The siege towers remained unharmed by the chaos occurring beyond Reyna's view.
The soldiers on the wall crowded along the edges of the battlements like Reyna and Ser Arthur did, watching the camp. They whispered to each other and Reyna could catch a few isolated conversations. Some were optimistic while others were wondering if this raid was even a good idea which was a sentiment Reyna began to subscribe to. Minutes passed. Still, nothing changed.
"They still haven't burned the towers."
"They will, my lady. As long as there's still some fighting, there's still hope."
Reyna looked back at the men crowding the battlements. These were many of her men, and yet, the wall had so much empty space. Sure, there was two other sections of wall to defend, but did she lose so many that they could not effectively hold the walls again? Please, Ser Willas, please succeed. We don't have the men to hold, we need you to burn those towers, she thought. Her skin crawled at the thought of what would happen upon failure.
Her hairs stood up, as if presenting themselves to the headman's axe, the same one that had beheaded her mother. Injustice would be met with justice, whoever was in the right would be determined through force of arms and not a court of law. As the night continued to linger on, Reyna dug her fingernails into the stone, not caring about the slight discomfort that came from it.
She sniffled. Reyna had accepted that Ser Willas was going to die in this raid, but she was not prepared to learn of his failure. Everything was going so well even if she was so afraid. The burning of Dark Dell, Melara's reinforcements, and holding off at Middlebury. They were all falling into place to culminate in victory, in justice for Reyna's house. She never stopped to think that war was not so simple.
"The fighting sounds like it's dying down," Reyna said.
Reyna turned around and sat down, leaning her back and head on the battlements. She clutched her legs and rested her head on her knees. All she could do was listen to the soldiers nearby, they were beginning to change their opinions on the battle. Their optimism began to falter, setting the tone for the rest of the keep.
"My lady! The siege towers are starting to burn!" Ser Arthur yelled.
Reyna pulled herself up and stared out at the Tarly camp. They were not the giant camp fires like the ships at Dark Dell, but they only just started burning. Still, they were burning, much more than Reyna expected in the past few minutes. With the fighting still going, Reyna hoped that the fires would not be extinguished so that the siege towers could be destroyed.
The nearby soldiers began to change their tune, now cheering loudly all across the walls. They raised their weapons and shouted at the enemy. Some men even hugged each other as the towers continued to burn, the flames beginning to rise to the top of them. Ser Arthur sighed in relief and leaned against the merlons while Reyna continued watching. As the men continued their celebration and the first of the siege towers were beginning to crumble from the burning, Reyna smiled through her tears. In the flames of House Tarly's siege camp, hope was kindled. Victory was imminent. Farewell, Ser Willas, and thank you.
I roleplayed it, Tywin could muster 45k at that point which included vassal levies. But I don't think 45,000 soldiers and their lords would want to march off to fight some little border conflict.
Chapter 150! Where has the time gone? I also noticed we were past 20,000 views a couple of chapters ago and forgot to mention it. Thanks for keeping up with the story my avid readers! Chapter 150: Bloodshed
Middlebury Reyna Sheeran
Reyna was awoken to the sounds of Tarly warhorns. She rushed out to the courtyard, barely dressed while her eyes and mouth were dry like Dorne. Ser Arthur was already there, in full armour and directing the men rushing out from the keep to the walls and portcullis. Middlebury's troops swiftly took their positions, trying to make the gaps between them as small as possible since their numbers had dwindled greatly since Ser Willas' sacrificial raid.
"Ser Arthur! What is it? Are we under attack?" Reyna asked.
"I don't know, my lady!" Ser Arthur answered as he shook his head. "The Tarly warhorns started blowing signals."
"I want to go up to the walls."
Reyna walked toward the set of stairs up to the battlements. Before she could even walk up a step, she felt a firm grip on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Ser Arthur who was shaking his head.
"It's too dangerous, my lady! You should get back in the keep just like with every assault."
Warhorns still blared in the distance while what few officers she had left were shouting orders. It did seem like another attack and hiding in the keep would be what she had always done before. The noises at first sounded like the Tarlys were preparing for battle. But Reyna stopped for a second. She thought she heard something. Something different and yet familiar. It clicked, the sound she thought was familiar was of fighting at the camp, like the night Ser Willas and his men sacrificed themselves. Although, today's battle sounded much more intense.
"Ser Arhur! My lady! There's Sheeran banners out there! Sheeran banners!" a soldier on the walls yelled.
Reyna did not even hesitate and ran up the steps.
"My lady!" Ser Arthur called.
Reyna pushed her way through her men on the walls. They opened up a clear path for her to get to the edge of the battlements where she could get a good view. As she peered her head through the gap between the merlons, Reyna could hear the men whispering about the Sheeran banners being flown outside.
Whoever called to her was speaking the truth. Reyna squinted her eyes and noticed banners with white hearts over a green field weaving through the tents as the sounds of battle continued to rage on. Melara, she thought. The Tarly camp looked to be in complete chaos as horsemen from both sides rushed in and out of view.
Ser Arthur joined Reyna at the top of the steps and looked out. As the situation became more clear, the men on the walls cheered and raised their weapons high, just like that fateful night. Reyna looked up at Ser Arthur who was watching the scene with his mouth open while his body bobbed slightly from breathing.
"I'll be... the Sheerans of Casterly Rock are finally here," Ser Arthur said.
"Ser Arthur, send what men we can out to help our allies," Reyna ordered.
"My lady, Casterly Rock's got more than enough men to crush the Tarlys, I don't think it's necessa-"
"Do it."
Ser Arthur bowed his head.
"As you wish. Open the gate!"
"Open the gate!" someone in the gatehouse yelled.
Ser Arthur drew his sword and pointed at the Tarly camp.
"Anyone who wants to spill some Tarly blood should get out there now!"
The men in the courtyard cheered and rushed outside. Some on the walls went down to join them while a few men stayed. Reyna watched her small force pour out from the gate and cross over a field of bodies and discarded equipment. The grass had grown quite high that Reyna had forgotten that both sides could not afford to collect their dead on the ground. As her soldiers trampled the grass with their charge, bodies appeared like they came out of thin air.
Reyna tried to lean as forward as possible, wanting to get a good view of the Tarly camp while it was under attack. The Middlebury garrison were closing the distance but still had a ways to go before they could join the fighting. Even then, the battle was over and Reyna noticed horsemen fleeing the camp while men on foot struggled to keep up.
I knew it. I knew she'd come, Reyna thought. After so much fear and loss, Middlebury's salvation had arrived. Many of Oakenshield's people died for this: Ser Willas, her mother, her grandfather, and all the men who fought under her banner. While the sacrifices were many, after decades of struggle, House Sheeran of Oakenshield was finally free. Reyna did not know whether to cheer in happiness or cry, so she did both. Tears, joy, and excitement overwhelmed her as more and more banners belonging to House Tarly and its bannermen continued to disperse.
"Are any of the horses healthy?" Reyna asked.
"The horses aren't starving, but the rationing may have affected them," Ser Arthur answered.
"Get the healthiest one ready; I'm going out there once I'm dressed."
"Yes, my lady."
Reyna rushed down the steps and back into the keep. She weaved the tight corridors while some stragglers continued rushing from the barracks and armouries within the keep. The door to her chambers was no longer a barricade from danger, but an obstacle to heading out to victory. She pushed it open with great momentum and did not even close it as she headed for the dresser to pick out something to wear. After so much waiting, she wanted to be part of the victory, to show everyone that House Sheeran of Oakenshield still had some fight in it.
On top of the dresser was a dagger. Reyna had kept it around in case things went wrong. Instead of letting herself get humiliated and eventually executed like her mother and grandfather, she would take her own life as a preventative measure. However, with the Sheeran warhorns overpowering those of the Tarlys, Reyna took the dagger, not as a means of suicide, but now as a weapon to help her fight against the enemy.
Middlebury Melara Sheeran
Several soldiers tore down a tent to find a Tarly soldier hiding underneath as it fell down on him. Melara's men surrounded the tent and yelled at the man, hoping to get him to surrender. Come on you fool, surrender, she thought. The Tarly struggled but eventually pulled the tent off of him and reached for a nearby sword. Without hesitating, the Sheeran men rushed forward and cut him down before he could even raise his weapon.
Melara sighed as her men let the man fall flat on his back, not even checking to see if he was still alive as they moved on to the next tent. She did not take part in the battle, but she hoped that the enemies left behind would see the overwhelming odds that fell upon them. The sounds of isolated battles came from every single direction as Melara rode through the remains of the camp.
She focused her ears, listening, even counting the swords clashing. One by one, the swords began to fade, replaced with an implied silence. Melara continued riding through the camp, keeping a hand close to her sword while her guards were right behind her. Bodies covered the ground which made the horse ride quite bumpy for her tastes. She could not complain as these men gave their lives to fight for their respective banners.
The sudden attack just as the sun was rising worked perfectly. For every dead Sheeran soldier Melara saw, four or five Tarly men laid close by. She soon came upon a large opening in the tents. Charred black remnants of some sort of structure acted like a centrepiece, a compliment of destruction to the death at her feet. It was not smoking, meaning this was not burned recently. Melara wondered what this was, it looked like some sort of giant bonfire than anything else.
"Melara!" a young woman's voice cried.
Melara turned over and noticed Reyna who jumped off her horse. She smiled and dismounted to meet Reyna but frowned when she noticed her face. It was red, covered in shining streaks of tears. At first, Melara believed that she was upset, but the way she ran and called her name made it seem like joy and soon her smile returned. Reyna dove into Melara's open arms and held her tightly.
The young woman began sniffling and crying, finally showing off the terror and stress that Reyna must have gone through to have survived until now. Melara shushed Reyna and gently patted her back.
"It's alright, I'm here now; just like I said I would," Melara said.
Melara looked up and took note of the Middlebury and Oakenshield men joining her troops in scouring the camp. Reyna stopped crying into Melara's chest and looked up.
"I knew you'd come. We waited, we fought, because we knew you'd help us."
"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but you managed to hold out. You managed to win."
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
"We were delayed a few times; I even got stopped by Anya Waynwood personally."
"Anya Waynwood? How did you get past her?"
Melara smiled.
"Because she wants you to win."
"The Waynwoods want me to win?"
"Anya specifically as House Tarly are loyal to her brother and his heirs."
Melara heard the clopping of hooves and looked in the direction of the sounds to see Symeon and Tyrek riding in on their horses.
"My lady, the main force of the Tarly army has fled southeast in the direction of Horn Hill," Symeon reported.
"Very good, we've won the day and now the Tarlys are on the retreat," Melara said.
"This must be Lady Reyna," Tyrek said. "I am honoured to meet another fearsome young Sheeran such as yourself. I think both of you will be pleased to know that Lord Tommen Tarly was among one of the fallen for the Tarlys."
"Lord Tarly is dead? Did you try to take him alive?" Reyna asked.
Tyrek nodded.
"We did, but he wouldn't stand down. My men had no choice but to cut him down or risk letting him escape."
Reyna looked back at Melara.
"If Lord Tarly is dead, the enemy won't have a leader; word of this won't have reached Horn Hill yet."
"Then it will give us time to rest and organize," Melara said.
"Melara, we need to march to Horn Hill now."
"What?"
Reyna took hold of Melara's hand.
"Horn Hill still thinks that Lord Tarly is besieging me. They won't be ready until the retreating forces send word ahead to Horn Hill. There's still time to get there quickly before they can be ready!"
Tyrek laughed.
"Very impressive, Lady Reyna. I agree, Horn Hill will only be given time to prepare itself for a siege if we wait around. Horn Hill is already formidable enough, let's not give the Tarlys any chance to recover," Tyrek agreed.
"The sun has barely risen, we can make good progress to Horn Hill if we continue moving," Symeon said.
Melara nodded and placed both of her hands on Reyna's shoulders.
"We will march. You've done good here, Reyna. For now, you and your men should stay behind to rest, you'll need as much after resisting weeks of siege," Melara said.
Reyna shook her head.
"No, I will bring my men to help," Reyna declared.
"Reyna, you've done enough, we can finish this for you."
"So many of my men died for this and the survivors want to see Horn Hill surrounded more than I do."
"Then your troops can come, but you should stay here or go home to Oakenshield."
Reyna pulled her shoulders out of Melara's hands. She shook her head again and adopted a stern face.
"I have to go. What would the Tarlys think when it's only you they're surrendering to? People will ridicule me for relying on Casterly Rock. I can't help that. But I want all of The Reach to know that I finish my battles, especially the ones I start."
Melara looked back at Tyrek and Symeon who were both nodding.
"She has a point, my lady," Symeon said.
"She may not be a daughter of Humfrey Sheeran like you, my lady, but she shares his blood and I'd be proud to have another Sheeran along for the journey," Tyrek said.
Melara felt a bit of guilt build up inside her as she placed a hand over her chest, feeling the rough leather she wore to protect herself. She was a daughter of Humfrey Sheeran, a woman who liked swords more than some men. Who was she to deny another young woman to take up a banner and march to war like she did? Melara gritted her teeth but then smiled while nodding.
"Even if I didn't want you to come, I think you'd still find a way to follow. Alright, you can come with your men. But, I need you to stay near me at all times," Melara said.
"Thank you, Melara. Thank you!" Reyna said happily.
Melara remembered her conversation with Tyrek. She could see the fear in Reyna's eyes behind that stalwart bravado. Like Melara, instead of letting those fears take her, she made sure to keep her reasons to fight held above that fear. Melara had a good idea of what they were. Her desire to protect Oakenshield, her desire to make sure the sacrifices that came before were not in vain, and her desire for survival were what drove the young woman. However, Tyrek warned that fighting for survival would drive people mad. Melara hoped that was not the case with Reyna, as her determination seemed to have concealed a thirst for revenge, that same revenge that consumed her mother and eventually lead to her beheading.
Horn Hill Melara Sheeran
The only castles to ever impress Melara other than her home were Riverrun and Highgarden. Horn Hill, however, was quite a contender. It looked like a fortified manor for royalty that sat atop castle fortifications as if it were a platform. Melara marvelled at the sight of it, still looking pretty after a couple months of siege.
She began to recall the time Tywin was reading history books as she sat around. Tywin's retelling of the exploits of Tarly men like Savage Samwell and Randyll Tarly may have been interesting, but sitting around was quite boring. Still, the memories gave her the knowledge that House Tarly was not some weak house, especially since they were Kings when a hundred crowns ruled over Westeros. These memories were also the only real ways she could keep Tywin close in her life, even though he wrote home quite often. Imagining him sitting across from her, buried into his reading always had a soft place in her heart.
Melara sat at the head of the table in a tent with her trusted allies. Tyrek and Symeon, her commanders along with Reyna and Ser Arthur Benton occupied the seats to her sides. While they had many plans and ideas, today's gathering was a formality. The Tarlys had not been stirring and every single outcome was exhausted. Now, it was a matter of waiting instead of action.
"I still think an assault would be a good idea," Tyrek said. "How many could there possibly be after we smashed them at Middlebury?"
"Enough to hold the walls," Symeon answered.
"We have to be over three times their number."
"Horn Hill is formidable, a small force could hold it against ours. Even then, they could retreat into the keep if they wanted; the way the keep is positioned allows them to use the walls we take against us," Ser Arthur warned.
Melara leaned back in her chair.
"They will break eventually," Melara said.
"When's the next shipment of grain coming?" Reyna asked.
"It will arrive tomorrow. Have no fear, my lady, it is the Tarlys that should be worried about their food stores," Ser Arthur answered.
"The Tarlys would've taken quite a bit of their supplies with them when they laid siege to Middlebury, there can't be that much left for them especially since the survivors of the battle didn't bring any of it back," Symeon said.
Melara smiled.
"Good point," Melara said.
A horn blew outside. It was not a Sheeran horn, but a Tarly one. After listening to so many tones during the Battle of Middlebury, Melara recognized that this was not a sound for battle. Melara stood up and began waking for the tent flap followed by everyone else. Before she could open the tent flap to get outside, a soldier peered his head in, startling Melara.
"I'm sorry, my lady. But a group of riders has come from the castle for a parley," the soldier reported.
"Don't worry about it, we will go out to meet them."
Melara's companions eagerly followed Melara out of the tent and into the camp. Outside, a group of Sheeran riders were leading the Tarlys straight to the war council's tent. The Tarlys dismounted as the Sheeran riders kept a close watch on them. When the Tarly's approached, Melara noticed a crowd of soldiers forming a large circle in the clearing in front of the tent.
The Tarly men were lead by a young man. His hair was black and kept to him tightly as if it were a small helmet. He wore robes that were not finely kept, dark spots of sweat formed underneath his pits and the colours looked faded. Have we really been besieging the castle for that long? Or has he run out of things to wear? Melara thought. The young man was pouting and then frowned before bending the knee, his guards immediately followed the gesture.
"My name is Renly Tarly, Lord of The Westmarch and Horn Hill. I wish to speak with Melara Sheeran," the man introduced.
Melara looked back at the men and Reyna. Tyrek, Symeon, and Ser Arthur stared at Renly Tarly while crossing their arms. Reyna's demeanour was a lot more unpleasant, she scowled at Renly Tarly and kept a hand close to her side.
"You're speaking to her," Melara said as she looked down at the kneeling lord.
"The siege has gone on for too long, my family inside has started to suffer. My sisters, they cannot handle the trauma of a siege. We wish to surrender."
"While I may be in command of this army, I am not the one in charge of this war. You will speak to Lady Reyna Sheeran of Oakenshield if you wish to surrender."
Renly Tarly looked at Reyna and hesitated. He swallowed a lump in his throat and opened his mouth.
"Lady Reyna Sheeran, the time has come to end this conflict, we wish to surrender."
"Your sisters are suffering? How do you think I felt when I was besieged by your father?! How do you think I felt when my own family was stolen away from me?! My men sacrificed themselves to protect me while your father's men enjoyed sitting in tents outside my walls. How can you come here and ask for peace after all that's happened?!" Reyna asked angrily.
"Reyna..." Melara said in a worried tone.
"You think you can just get away without any punishment for all the things House Tarly has done to my family?! This is what I think of your peace!"
Reyna produced a dagger out of thin air and rushed for Renly. The young man's reaction was slow, but fortunately for him, Melara had much training when it came to reactions and disarming opponents. She stepped in the way of Reyna and grabbed her wrist. As her momentum kept her rushing forward, Melara used a flat hand to chop at Reyna's wrist while simultaneously tripping her with a sweep to the leg. The young woman fell to the floor as the dagger flew into the air. Instead of trying to catch an unpredictable dagger like some fool, Melara made sure everyone was clear of the area around its shadow when it bounced on the ground.
"Reyna! Stop!" Melara yelled as she struggled to keep Reyna on the ground.
"House Tarly has brought my house to the brink of ruin! They must pay! They must pay!" Reyna screamed.
"Reyna! Marq Tarly, who beheaded your mother is gone! Tommen Tarly, who was ready to take you is gone! It's over! The Tarlys in that castle have nothing to do with this, especially Renly's sisters."
Reyna continued screaming and trying to break free of Melara's grip. Melara felt uncomfortable handling her blood relative, especially one so young this roughly. For the sake of peace, Melara had to do so, a few bruises were a much favourable alternative to starvation or an assault on the walls. Suddenly, Reyna threw herself in the direction of the dagger, pulling Melara with her. Melara quickly kicked the dagger away in the direction of a few Sheeran men who quickly picked up the dagger and passed it back away from view.
Reyna cried as she reached for nothing in the direction of the men who took the dagger. Melara pulled her up to her feet and released her. Instead of standing, Reyna slowly crumpled to the ground and curled up as if she were a baby. A very tense silence came from the men as Reyna continued crying on the floor, sobbing and letting the dirt stick to her cheeks.
Melara sighed and knelt down to help Reyna up again. This time, Reyna felt a lot heavier and resisted her help. Melara grunted and gently put Reyna back down, waiting for the right time to attempt to pick her up again.
Renly Tarly was still frozen while his guards remained stuck halfway off the ground. He was sitting on his bottom and leaning back, a standard pose to take when someone were to come at him with a blade. Melara noticed his chest bobbing in and out prominently, showing that the ordeal had taken quite a toll on him despite the fact it lasted a second.
"I am sorry, Lord Renly. But over the years, Oakenshield has taken quite a bit of abuse over the decades," Melara explained.
"No... I understand, maybe peace can be brokered between us," Renly Tarly said.
"I'm afraid that this peace cannot be just given. After all the Sheeran blood that's been shed, I too wish to see just recompense for Oakenshield's branch of House Sheeran."
"We have plenty of gold, perhaps we could come to an agreement."
Melara shook her head.
"I don't think you have enough gold to pay for all the damage that's been done."
"Then what do you want?"
Melara had an idea of what she was going to negotiate for, but she had no idea what her three commanders would think. She looked back at them and saw that Symeon and Tyrek nodded while Ser Arthur was staring pitifully at Reyna. Taking the nodding as approval, Melara turned back to Renly Tarly.
"The Westmarch."
"You would strip all of our titles away? Cast my family out into the wilds?"
"No, you may keep Horn Hill. But just as your former bannermen will, you shall serve Reyna as the new Lady of The Westmarch."
"I... I must serve that?" Renly asked as he looked down at Reyna who was still crying on the floor. "Well, what assurances would you have that Lady Reyna would not abuse her power?"
"Reyna will be able to call on the assistance of Casterly Rock whenever she deems it necessary. In exchange for such a privilege, she must swear that she will not seek any vengeance; enough blood's been shed between House Sheeran and Tarly."
"This is a breach of Highgarden's justice! Lady Anya would not stand for this."
Melara sighed and rested her hands on her hips. She ran her fingers along the hilt of her blade and rolled her eyes.
"How do you think I was able to march an entire army here? Lady Anya wanted you to lose."
Renly Tarly bit his lip and looked at the ground.
"And I thought the Waynwoods were working with us like they always have."
"Anya used you like she uses everyone. Unlike you, Reyna now has a strong ally to keep her machinations away."
"You would destroy a house that has thousands of years of history with your peace?"
Melara shook her head.
"You're not being destroyed. However, if you do not wish to accept peace, my army has more than enough supplies and support from Highgarden to keep this going. I don't want anymore blood to be shed, do you?"
Renly Tarly gritted his teeth and looked back in the direction of Horn Hill. He sighed and Melara noticed a tear glistening in his eyes. She waited for the young man to speak, keeping a hand close to her sword to show him she would do what she needed to do. The young man stood up and nodded, the tear in his eye now falling along his cheekbones.
"I... I accept these terms, House Tarly will now serve Lady Reyna Sheeran, Lady of The Westmarch."
Melara noticed Renly Tarly's guards had looks of disapproval on their faces. She did not care what they thought, after so much trouble between House Sheeran and Tarly, this was needed to keep the peace. They had so many chances to stop this, to apologize; I'm doing the right thing, Melara thought, justifying her decision.
Renly Tarly and his men were escorted back to their horses so they could return to Horn Hill tell of the negotiations. Once he was gone, Melara turned to Reyna who Ser Arthur was helping stand up to her feet. Dirt covered her right cheek and her dress was practically ruined unless it could be taken to be washed immediately. Melara pitied her, it was too late for the young woman; her mother's teachings and feelings had taken her. She understood that so much had happened, but if she were graceful in victory, Renly Tarly may have taken the peace agreement much more easily. Would things have been different if I got here faster? Or was Reyna always doomed to be her mother's daughter? Melara thought. Tyrek and Symeon were nodding in approval of the peace that Melara brokered while Ser Arthur still held onto Reyna. Melara looked at Ser Arthur and sighed.
Tywin played with his son Sumner while Arwyn rocked Ed, the second son of the couple.
Tywin bounced Sumner on his leg and made noises aimed at amusing him. The infant giggled as Tywin continued his assault of fun. Arwyn smiled and whispered sweet words to Ed who was showing signs of falling asleep. It was times like this that Tywin enjoyed; this peace reminded him a lot of Casterly Rock. He began to long for the safety of Casterly Rock as it was a place mostly free from careful politics and suspicious figures.
The gardens of the Sheeran manor in King's Landing were quiet. Although not as extravagant as the gardens of The Red Keep, it was more than enough for Tywin and Arwyn. Various colours and species of flowers made the garden a palette of wonder and beauty. Complimenting the amazing visuals of the gardens was Arwyn, a beautiful flower herself that still looked amazing despite having two children. Her smile as she cared for Ed was infectious as Tywin could not help himself but join in while Sumner continued giggling.
"If Sumner enjoys this, I think he'll enjoy the saddle," Tywin said.
"He's still far too young. Give me a few more years with my sons before you take them to train as warriors," Arwyn joked.
Tywin smiled. His joy was disturbed when he heard a commotion at the gate on the other side of the manor. Arwyn noticed this as well and looked uncomfortable at the sounds of yelling which was getting closer. The yelling was not pleasant, threats were being thrown around while names were being shouted. Tywin picked up Sumner and gave him to Arwyn who now had a child in each arm.
"Arwyn, take the children inside."
"Tywin? What's happening?"
"Just take them inside."
Arwyn hesitated but eventually took Sumner and Ed back inside the manor accompanied by a few guards. Once she was safe in the manor, Tywin walked toward the sounds of commotion, pulling several guards along with him.
The source of the commotion was not exactly what Tywin expected. He was prepared for some sort of attempt on his life or men representing the King to bring Tywin in. The man causing all of the commotion was none of those, at least, he did not look the part.
His appearance was quite frightening. The man was completely bald, his head shined from the reflection of sunlight. But it was not just the man's hair that was lacking, his eyes were also gone with only empty sockets in their place. Without his eyes, he walked with a cane that he used to keep tapping the ground in front of his feet while the man's guards aided him.
"Who are you to tell me that this isn't my manor?!" the man angrily asked.
"Lord Tywin!" one of Tywin's guards said as he and the rest bowed their heads.
"Lord Tywin?"
Tywin crossed his arms.
"I am Lord Tywin Sheeran, Chief General of The Iron Throne. My men are right, you are stepping on my property. May I ask who you are?" Tywin asked.
The man gasped and bowed his head.
"Really? A thousand apologies! I thought I was heading for my manor and armed thugs had taken over!"
"So, may I know who I'm speaking with?"
"My name is Raymund Waynwood."
"The son of Hugh Waynwood? What're you doing here in King's Landing?"
"Maybe we can discuss it over some wine?"
Tywin nodded, even though the man was completely blind.
"Stand down, men. And someone bring wine!"
Tywin gestured for Raymund's guards to follow him to the gardens where they could talk. He was slow, understandable because of his blindness. Raymund had a guard hold each arm while he continued using his cane to prod to check for obstacles. Finally, he arrived in the section of the garden where Tywin was just playing with his children.
Tywin pulled a few chairs closer to a table set up outside. The guards guided Raymund into it and the man settled himself comfortably. A servant arrived with a pitcher of wine and two cups. He placed them on the table and began pouring wine for both men. Raymund reached forward and searched for the cup with his hand. Tywin gave Raymund's cup a slight push so that he would find it, prompting the man to smile. His smile was quite unsettling to look at without any eyes to go along it.
"Thank you, Lord Tywin. It seems the rumours of your kindness and virtue are true," Raymund said.
"Pushing a cup is kindness and virtue?" Tywin joked.
"You always have to keep an eye on the little things; that's when a man's true colours can be seen. Although, I can't see much these days."
Tywin reluctantly smiled, feeling pity for Raymund's lack of eyes. Yet, there was something charismatic about the fact he could joke about that. Raymund took a sip from his wine and sighed in relief after putting his cup down.
"Not much was heard from you after Anya Waynwood took Highgarden from you. I assume that she was the one who took your eyes?"
Raymund frowned and nodded.
"I was locked away and forgotten about. Although, Anya never forgot me and soon she came for my eyes. Oh did it hurt, I begged to be killed when they took the first one and then offered to do the deed myself when they took the second."
"That's absolutely appalling, she had no right to mutilate you like that."
"And yet she did, Lord Tywin."
"House Sheeran has always had good relations with your father, my sister Melara was married to him for a short time."
Raymund nodded.
"I remember Lady Melara. She was a good woman, I never believed the rumours of her murdering my father."
"Melara is doing well."
"That's good to hear, I was hoping she would be fine after she escaped Highgarden."
"Back to you, Raymund. You're in King's Landing and have been granted a manor by the King himself. That means you're important to the King somehow, may I ask why you're here?"
Raymund sipped his wine and sighed.
"I want to take The Reach back from Anya. Not only is she close to dying a natural death, but she's acted quite independently of the crown which has annoyed King Jacaerys. With those factors, I've convinced the King to support my claim to Highgarden."
"That is quite noble of him. I would support your rightful claim to Highgarden as well."
"You would? That means a lot to me, Lord Tywin."
Tywin smiled.
"Our fathers tried to form an alliance between our houses. A series of unfortunate events caused that to fall apart. But maybe, we can reforge those bonds."
Raymund smiled and poured himself more wine.
"I think we really could, Lord Tywin."
Tywin was about to also pour himself more wine when he felt the pitcher was practically as light as air.
"Bring more wine!"
Raymund laughed.
"You act like you want this to continue for some time."
"Well, since you're already here, we might as well make the most of it before you have to be slowly guided back to your manor."
Raymund laughed again much more intensely.
"It's been a long time since I met someone willing to joke about my predicament."
"Frankly, I felt like I took a risk by even making the joke, but, I'm glad to see that this risk paid off."
"Indeed."
A servant arrived with another pitcher of wine and took away the empty one. Tywin and Raymund spoke for hours about personal, political, and many other affairs. A rumour came up about the eventual arrival of Prince Otherys Targaryen from Yunkai. It was quite a bit of news that Tywin needed to keep a close eye on. Nevertheless, they continued making merry and went through many pitchers of wine, losing track of just how many they drank just like they lost track of time. The sun was setting and the two still had so much to talk about even though Tywin's stomach and head began to feel strange.
Tywin had never drank so much wine before. He rarely drank too, but something about being with Raymund made Tywin want to keep up him. It was quite inspiring for Tywin, looking at Raymund who had almost everything taken from him and yet still had the ambitions to take it back along with cracking jokes that betrayed his ravaged exterior. Along with Maerys Targaryen, Tywin was beginning to make friends in the capital, powerful friends if Raymund were to succeed in his quest. While most of his allies would be political, he hoped that a good portion of them would be good friends like Raymund. It certainly drove Tywin to want an alliance with a friend.
Casterly Rock Melara Sheeran
Melara did not exactly get the triumphant return she expected. In fact, Casterly Rock was in a state of despair. As she climbed up to the keep, the news of why the atmosphere of The Rock seemed bleak reached her: Lord Elys had fallen ill. She rushed up to head to Elys' chambers, hoping it was not too late for her to say her farewell.
Elys' chambers had no visitors when Melara arrived. He was alone and looked to be sleeping. Melara cautiously approached the bed, hoping not to wake the man. She rested on both knees and leaned on the bed. Apparently she was not so quiet as Elys opened his eyes and turned over to Melara.
"Melara, you're home," Elys said.
"Yes, I kept my promise, like I said I would," Melara said.
Elys strained a smile.
"I never should've doubted you."
"Did you? I thought you always supported me, even when you said you wouldn't."
"I never doubted your success, but your safety. Your father always did love to rush into fights when he was younger and I'd know because I was there to watch."
"Well, I can take care of myself."
Elys nodded.
"You certainly can, I can see why Dale Sheeran favour you."
Melara blushed. She always knew her grandfather liked her, but to favour her? Although, that could mean anything as Elys did not exactly specify how and why her grandfather favoured her. Melara wondered if she was at the top of the man's list, being above Dale's own son and daughter.
"You must've been favoured by Dale as well."
"Of course, but when I was younger. He saw me as a brilliant commander and needed me to keep things together for your father."
"Did you fall out of favour with him?"
"No, Melara. I did not fall out of favour; Dale saw that I no longer needed his favour. I was independent enough to command my own respect. If he were alive to see what you have become, I think he would do the same. The man always cared about his family, but was not averse to leaving them to their own devices when they matured enough. "
Melara frowned.
"I miss him."
"We all do, Melara. But death takes all of us eventually, just as it does with me."
"You're only sixty-six, you have more years ahead of you if you have my grandfather's lifespan."
"It doesn't work like that. Although, I've been so busy managing that I haven't had the time to go out and enjoy the fresh air or keep myself active. Maybe if I had done that, I'd still have a few years."
Melara lowered her head.
"Then it's my fault. I could've let you be more free. Maybe I could've allowed you to go home, be with your family in your last few days."
"No, I've always served House Sheeran first. Whether I was Lord of The Gold Road or Casterly Rock's Master-at-Arms, my obligations to my house came first."
"Your loyalty to House Sheeran is commendable, Lord Elys."
"And yours too, Melara. Look at you, unmarried and without children all because you've been so busy doing your duty."
Melara placed a hand over her chest. She wondered if what Elys had just said was true. The prospect of a lengthy marriage and the production of heirs was always second to House Sheeran's interests. But was it really because she was so busy or was it because the opportunities had presented themselves? She wanted to believe in the latter, as the former only made her seem like it was her fault no one had come forward. However, Melara had her own grey and silver hair to match Elys'; too late for Melara to marry or have children of her own.
"I'm glad my duty didn't go to waste."
"You regret not having a husband and children of your own?"
Melara slowly shook her head.
"No."
"I think you do."
"I don't."
"Melara, things may not have gone the way you wanted, but you have had quite a life. So what if you never truly married? So what if you don't children of your own?"
Melara frowned.
"I sometimes wonder it'd be like to live like other women, like my Aunt Genna."
"I'd wager it would've taken quite a bit out of you. Without a husband or children to worry about, your full attention was put toward ruling Casterly Rock in your father and brother's absence; and you've done a good job of it."
"Thank you, Elys."
"I lived to see so many brilliant Sheerans and you're no exception."
"I want you to live, so you can see Tywin accomplish great things."
Elys strained another smile.
"Appointed to the Small Council at seventeen? I think I've seen him accomplish great things."
Melara shook her head.
"He hasn't peaked yet."
Elys nodded.
"True, but I don't think I will be able to see him peak; I'm much too old and he's still so young."
"With all of the tensions in the capital, Tywin will bring stability back to the court."
"Well, it'll be quite a story to hear about in the Otherworld."
"Are you really going to die, Elys?"
Elys frowned and nodded.
"I might. But I do wish to see young Tywin peak, I will try to will myself to better health."
"Then, I won't disturb you."
Melara stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and stepped into the doorway.
"Melara."
"Yes?"
"Don't worry about me, just worry about Tywin and Casterly Rock."
Melara smiled and nodded. She closed the door behind her and walked down the hall. The thought of Elys dying troubled Melara. As the man said, Melara should not be so worried. But the man was old and sickly, he would not last long if his condition persisted. She thought about the things she discussed. Melara had dedicated her life to serving House Sheeran and took no man and birthed no children. While this was the right thing for House Sheeran, was this right for Melara? No, like Elys had told her, it only would have taken away from her character. He was right, Melara could only focus on the well being of House Sheeran, not a needy husband or children depending on her.
Whether or not Tywin peaked, Elys would never live to see the next fortnight. But his contributions and skills to serve three generations of House Sheeran would never be forgotten.
King's Landing Tywin Sheeran
The court stood at attention as Prince Otherys Targaryen walked down the aisle toward The Iron Throne where Jacaerys sat. He barely resembled Jacaerys, his hair and beard were gold in contrast to his father's black mustache before it became silver. His eyes were slightly similar, but that was the only portion that even resembled the King. Maybe the Bar Emmon conspiracy was right, Otherys might not be Jacaerys' son, Tywin thought, quickly shaking his head to remove such treasonous poison.
Everyone whispered to each other as Otherys passed by. Lots of gossip and speculation spread through the crowd of people watching. Tywin felt a tap on his shoulder, it was Raymund Waynwood who he had recently befriended.
"They say he tortures animals," Raymund whispered. "And that's not even the worst of it, apparently that torture has spread to people too."
"Really? What has Yunkai done to the man?" Tywin asked as he stared at Otherys.
"I don't know, but you can bet that his love for torture won't go away once he becomes the King."
"That is if the rumours are true. I don't believe such rumours."
Raymund shrugged.
"He's fed men to his dragon, that bit of news is most certainly true."
"Was it for justice?"
"I don't know, all I've heard is that men were fed to his dragon on a regular basis."
"Seems like something a rival of his would spread to discredit him."
Raymund did not say anything and Tywin saw Otherys bending the knee before the line of Kingsguards standing in front of The Iron Throne. Jacaerys rose from his seat and walked down the steps to the floor where Otherys was. He placed both hands on Otherys' face and raised them to stand Otherys up. Once he was up, Jacaerys embraced Otherys.
"My son, you're finally home!" Jacaerys said happily.
"Yes, father, I am home," Otherys said as he began to walk away from his father and paced to get the crowd's attention.
"What's he doing?" Tywin asked.
Otherys kept his hands to his sides and scowled at the crowd.
"I've heard troubling rumours, rumours pertaining some sort of plot against my father. You men are fools, to strike at House Targaryen is to strike at Westeros itself. If I catch you plotting, I will make sure you are punished thoroughly," Otherys declared.
His voice was authoritative with a hint of cruelty. Otherys then drew his sword and walked back and forth in the aisle. The Kingsguards kept their hands close to their swords just in case, but they did not draw as Otherys did not seem to be concerned with the King.
"Otherys?" Jacaerys asked.
A prominent looking nobleman began walking backwards. Otherys caught that man's eyes and began walking towards him. Then, he readied his blade and charged at the man. Everyone screamed and got out of the way while the nobleman that prompted Otherys' charge tried to flee. Unfortunately for him, Otherys caught up to him and ran his sword right through his gut from the back. The man gargled blood and eventually fell to his knees before Otherys pulled his sword out and kicked the corpse to the ground. He began cutting the man's body with his sword, viciously cutting him into pieces while breathing heavily between each swing. Tywin cringed at the sounds of a sword constantly slashing through flesh.
"Traitor! Traitor! Die!" Otherys yelled as he continued hacking the body.
"I hope that wasn't anyone important," Tywin whispered to Raymund.
"Now do you believe the rumours?" Raymund asked quietly.
"There is some truth, but maybe this man was indeed part of some plot."
Raymund looked displeased and retreated a bit into the crowd. Everyone whispered among each other, the words were much more quicker and obstructed this time. Jacaerys and the Kingsguard looked disturbed but did not do anything to stop Otherys from continuing to bloody the floor of the throne room with his brutal mutilation.
This is Jacaerys' heir, Tywin thought. Jacaerys may have been an angry and suspicious man, but Otherys was on a whole other level. His fury was unmatched, treating the long dead victim as if Otherys were an Ironborn savage. Tywin had his reservations about serving such a man, but he remembered what his father told him. Act for the good of the realm, his father's words said. Otherys would make many enemies, and it was up to Tywin to make sure that they would be defeated to maintain the stability of the realm.
The man stopped hacking the body and pulled up his sword. It was bloody, dripping from the tip all the way down to the crossguard. Otherys knelt down and wiped his sword clean with the man's robes that were also quite covered in blood. Tywin sighed and said a silent prayer for the innocent man who was just murdered by Otherys. Once he was done cleaning, Otherys stood back up and pointed his blade out and spun around slowly, making sure everyone got a good view of the tip of his blade.
"Any other plotters? Any others who deserve to die!?" Otherys asked angrily.
The Small Council had become a more familiar part of Tywin’s life as he continued attending meetings. Maerys Targaryen, Jonas Lolliston, Emmond Darke, and Waymar Grafton were names Tywin could remember along with the positions they occupied. There was a general uncertainty over the new that face joined the council. Although, Tywin felt just a bit safer with having the new man around.
Raymund Waynwood was appointed as the new Master of Coin. As glad as Tywin was to have more friends among him, it was an odd appointment. How could Raymund read or write reports without any eyes? he thought. Raymund did not say anything, but neither did anyone else. The Small Council that ruled over all of Westeros was now at a standstill. Tywin leaned back into his chair, cautious about the atmosphere of the chamber.
The cause of such fear and silence was not Raymund’s appointment, but the presence of Otherys Targaryen, the Crown Prince of The Iron Throne. It was not his position as the heir to the throne that made everyone so tense, it was the recent memory of Otherys killing a man in front of the entire court in cold blood. The sounds of Otherys’ sword rending flesh returned to Tywin, making his skin crawl while he sank further in his seat.
Otherys had no position; simply here on the fact that he would inherit the throne once Jacaerys was gone. Betraying the vicious murderer he was, Otherys sat up straight, his posture so proper that it put most of the other powerful lords sitting in the chamber to shame. It was actually quite frightening, like Otherys was not even aware that everyone thought of him as a butcher.
Otherys was in the seat opposite of Tywin. The Crown Prince did not stare at him, choosing to look at his father instead of the council that could soon be his. Tywin felt a weight lifting off his shoulders as Otherys continued looking at his father. For now, he was not in Otherys’ sights if he were to enter another bout of bloodlust.
"The identity of the man who was killed was Oberyn Yronwood, a third son sent to the capital to represent his house’s interests," the Hand of the King, Jonas Lolliston reported.
"Great,” Maerys Targaryen said, leaning back in his chair as he sighed. “If there’s one thing we need to be doing, it’s angering the Dornish."
Tywin almost groaned out loud when he heard the name of the man that was killed. It was if the fates were against the King, especially when the Dornishman that was killed did not even wear the style of robes associated with his culture, like he wanted to blend in.
"I did what I had to do, the Dornish are plotting against us," Otherys said, arms crossed.
Jacaerys slammed the table, grunting and scowling at Otherys.
"Not you too! Even if they were doing something, we can’t go around killing them without any evidence!" Jacaerys yelled.
"House Yronwood is a strong house, the Crown Prince will need to apologize to the Yronwoods for killing a son of theirs. Even then, that will not do much to undo the damage," the Master of Laws, Emmond Darke warned.
Otherys shook his head.
"I will not apologize for bringing justice to traitors," Otherys declared.
"You have to, the Yronwoods will be calling for justice," Jacaerys said.
"I will not."
Tywin sighed as the debate continued around him. And my father thought King Jacaerys was heading down a dangerous path, he thought. He had been somewhat skeptical of the Dornish threat, considering that they were dormant for over a decade. Now, instead of coincidences and worrying rhetoric, the Dornishmen had an actual reason to be upset.
If this was the beginning of an approaching civil war, Tywin hoped he could depend on the men around him, even if Maerys had constantly warned that they had been compromised. He hoped their loyalties to the King and Small Council would prevail over that of their liege lords and homelands. Although, Tywin would have fought to protect his family and Casterly Rock if something bad happened, so he understood that the possibility of the council standing by their lords and families was a lot higher than the King needed.
"Lord Tywin, what do you think? Does the Crown Prince need to make peace with House Yronwood?" Jonas Lolliston asked.
Tywin hesitated and put Raymund in his periphery to glance at him. It was difficult to tell how the man felt without eyes to read. But Raymund was tapping a finger on the council table, a possible sign of anxiety. Anya Waynwood was the one that was compromised according to Maerys, Raymund’s an ally and I should adopt a similar stance, he thought. Unable to stall any longer, Tywin made the assumption that Raymund wished to keep the Dornish satisfied without eroding the powers of House Targaryen.
"I don’t think the Crown Prince should apologize; it’ll make us look weak. We’re not going to appease the Dornish, we’re apologizing to them. So, we need to figure out a way to keep our strength and face," Tywin answered.
"Interesting…" Jacaerys said quietly.
Tywin quickly scanned the room with his eyes to see how the others reacted to his plan. Unfortunately, most of the men did not show any obvious reactions, as if they knew they would be watched. The only men that did show any indication of their feelings were Jacaerys who spoke with interest, Otherys who smiled, and Raymund who slightly nodded. While not showing agreement like the others, Maerys sat still, but was obviously in favour of Tywin’s suggestion. This information was useless to him as Tywin already knew that these men already supported the Crown’s strength in some way.
The others, the ones that Maerys warned about were still as statues. No expression. No motions. Even if Maerys warned me, they still could be agreeing with me, I wish they would react or say something, Tywin thought. He continued sitting in silence as the council did nothing, possibly contemplating Tywin’s suggestion.
"I can’t honestly think of a way to do that," Raymund admitted.
"Because it isn’t possible, the Dornish must be appeased or else we risk incurring their wrath. Empty gestures to make up for a murder will not help us here," Jonas Lolliston warned.
Otherys pushed his chair back and stood up, planting both palms on the table that preceded a crashing thud.
"It was not murder!” Otherys said angrily. “And if their wrath means them rising up in open rebellion, we shall give them a lesson on what House Targaryen’s words mean."
"I don’t want to believe in this Dornish threat, but it will become much more real if this goes unaddressed," Jacaerys said.
"Father, let's use this opportunity to stop the Dornish. We draw them out and kill those that would undermine House Targaryen!"
Draw the enemy out to crush them in battle. Simple, but effective if executed correctly, Tywin thought. Otherys had a determination in him, an ambition to protect his house through whatever means were necessary. Tywin could not fault him as he too would defend his house ferociously, although, he wondered how far he was willing to go.
Jacaerys joined Otherys and stood from his seat. His rise was slow, showing the damage age had granted to the King.
"I will hear no more of Dornish threats! There isn't a Dornish threat! But now thanks to you, the Dornish may have a reason to do the things you and Maerys keep telling me! You should be grateful that the crown still goes to you, I am beginning to wonder if one of your brothers is more worthy for The Iron Throne."
Tywin tried his best to not show any reaction to that statement, but he was not as trained in something like this like the men around him. Otherys had five brothers who were still alive: one who had been quietly exiled to Essos while the rest were sons of his Aunt Genna. While they still carried the Targaryen name, any of Genna's sons would probably be more willing to trust Casterly Rock. No, you'd only be a puppet master playing with his puppet no matter how innocent you believe yourself, Tywin thought. He discarded the thought... for now.
"Father, you would exile me like Aegon?"
"If it comes to it."
Otherys looked down at the table. He sighed. Then, like a defeated animal, he treated back into his seat. Despite this somewhat peaceful response, the cracks had showed before Otherys had sat down. His expression was one of contempt, a scowl that pierced like knives even though Tywin was in the man's periphery.
Putting a pause on the tensions, the Grand Maester opened the door and made his way to one of the few empty chairs left in the chamber. His presence was most welcome, even if Tywin did not know his name. It was not entirely his fault, the Grand Maesters were always so old and died quickly. Tywin had hoped for a chance to petition the Citadel to send a man with at least a decade or two left in him for simplicity's sake. The Grand Maester waddled his way to a chair in his cumbersome robes decorated with various chains signifying the vast knowledge he had stored in him.
"Grand Maester Normund, you're late," Jacaerys said.
"A thousand apologies, Your Grace," Grand Maester Normund said, his voice coarse from decades of using it. "I was looking over the letters. I was about to come to the meeting when I found one that was apparently quite urgent."
"Who's it for?" Otherys asked, the way he spoke made it sound like he had forgotten everything that had just happened, or at least pretended it never happened.
"It- It's for Lord Tywin."
Tywin took note of the man's hesitation. The Grand Maester changed the direction he walked, now going for Tywin instead of one the empty chairs at the end of the table. He reached into a pocket within his thick robes and stopped. Little by little, the old man eventually pulled out the letter for Tywin. It did not take Tywin long to realize why the man was so reluctant. The letter had been opened.
There was an attempt to reseal the letter, but the small rips on the paper along with a thin, almost invisible line ran across the circumference of the red wax. Everyone was looking at Tywin and he decided to show his frustration about this breach of his privacy to them, including Jacaerys. The King's reaction was delayed and not quite like his natural expressions. He had not overplayed his response, a sight that made Tywin frown slightly. Can it be? Does he have people read my mail? Tywin thought.
Ignoring this, Tywin read on:
Lord Tywin Sheeran,
I write to you with most regret. I had wanted to deal with this quietly, but for the past few years, your sister Leana has been a prisoner of House Yronwood, stolen one day out of nowhere. I write to you because I have failed, I have received news that your sister has been beheaded by Lady Alyse Yronwood. In order to make up for this, I will still maintain the alliance between our two houses, as repentance for this injustice.
Lewys Wagstaff
Tywin put the letter down.
"What is it, Lord Tywin, if you would mind telling the rest of the council?" Jacaerys asked.
Tywin felt a constricting feeling in his forehead. He resisted this urge. If he scowled at the King or made any other unpleasant expression, that would only make Jacaerys distrust him even more. Judging by his reaction, Jacaerys did not seem to detect the most obvious signs of his anger, albeit much of it being justified by the contents of the letter.
"My sister has been executed by House Yronwood," Tywin announced.
The reactions of the council were quite unified despite the factions that had infected it. Even those that Maerys warned were Dornish supporters looked like they did not expect this. Otherys stood up from his chair again, almost throwing it away by his swift action and momentum.
"You see, father? The Dornish have executed the sister of one of our greatest allies! This must not stand!" Otherys yelled.
"Calm down!" Jacaerys demanded angrily. "Lord Tywin, I'm very sorry about your loss, but the Yronwoods might have done this as retribution for the murder of Oberyn Yronwood."
Raymund raised a hand.
"Your Grace, the murder of Oberyn Yronwood happened yesterday. There's no possible way they would have known, even if a messenger departed at the last second," Raymund explained.
"I don't see how the Dornish would just kill her without reason, she must've done something wrong. Maybe even some past sins caught up with her," Jonas Lolliston suggested.
For the first time in a Small Council meeting, Tywin clenched a fist and slammed it on the table. He blew air out of his mouth and breathed through his nose, doing this a couple of times until he was certain everyone was looking at him.
"That is my sister you are talking about. A daughter of the great Humfrey Sheeran. I will not sit idly by and let you insult her name... our name, through your slander," Tywin said angrily.
Otherys clapped his hands together.
"Yes! We must head south and demand justice for the death of Leana Sheeran!" Otherys said eagerly.
"You will not! I will not start a war over a feud between houses!" Jacaerys declared.
Tywin stood up and sighed. He bowed and stared Jacaerys straight in the eyes.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must go demand some justice in person. I will not bring an army, only a portion of my household guard," Tywin explained.
"Lord Tywin..."
"I will go too! I will show the Dornish that House Targaryen stands by its loyal followers!" Otherys yelled.
"Otherys, this is a matter between House Sheeran and Yronwood, the Crown will not intervene."
"I will act as a mediator then, Dorne and The Westerlands answer to The Iron Throne, would you obstruct the justice of The Iron Throne?"
Jacerys opened his mouth to speak but only produced silence. He's right, that's quite surprising for a murderer, Tywin thought. He had no choice, Otherys would have to come. Tywin tried to frame this as positive, justifying that having a Targaryen on his side of the dispute would make things go his way. He nodded, prompting a smile from Otherys.
"I consent to Otherys accompanying me in my diplomatic mission," Tywin said.
"Lord Tywin, there must be another solution, violence would only bring more death," Jonas Lolliston said.
"I was charged with leading and protecting my house. I may be quite upset at this turn of events, but do not mistake my anger for bloodlust, Lord Jonas. I seek justice, not war. Now, I must take my leave."
Tywin bowed his head and began walking to the door. Nobody said a word, but he heard someone following him. As he opened the door, Tywin spotted Otherys in his periphery. The two left the chamber without any protest and continued down the hallway.
"I knew those Dornish were scheming little bastards. Go gather your men, I will ready some men of my own and my dragon too," Otherys said.
Otherys nodded at Tywin and left his side when the two reached an intersection in the hallway. Tywin spent the time alone in the hallways of The Red Keep to contemplate. He is a murderer, but the man trusts me and values House Sheeran's loyalty. Would Jacaerys act in my honour? No. As much as I fear Otherys, the man knows I am a loyal man. At the very least, he wouldn't read my letters, he thought as he walked.
It was a complicated situation. Tywin had seen it himself, he had seen Otherys murder a man in cold blood. Although, was it really in cold blood? The man was a Dornishman, the people Maerys had warned about. Not only that, the man was an Yronwood, the same house that had just beheaded his sister. If it's true the Yronwood's never would've known about the death of Oberyn, this means they always had plans to attack House Sheeran, Tywin thought.
Footsteps were coming from behind. Tywin turned around and saw Maerys Targaryen trying to catch up to him. Most of his youth had gone so his run and breaths were quite inconsistent and intense.
"Lord Tywin!" Maerys called as he closed the last bit of distance.
"What is it?" Tywin asked.
"Don't do this. This is another one of the Dornish tricks, they want to bring you south. They may just kill you right there."
"I must show the land that House Sheeran is a strong house, how strong are we if we do not seek redress for these transgressions? This is not going to be a conflict between great houses like ours and Martell, this is House Yronwood, the same Yronwoods that were conquered by Nymeria."
"I appreciate that your knowledge still remains, but we need you here. We may have an ally in Raymund Waynwood like you said, but Jonas Lolliston, Emmond Darke, and Waymar Grafton are suspects."
Tywin shook his head.
"They seemed surprised about my sister's murder. This was not part of their plan."
"Still, we need you here. Frankly, your house's power and influence is one, if not all, of the pillars that keep Jacaerys on the throne."
"I'm sorry, Maerys, I cannot betray my family. I will head south. But I swear to you, I will not start a war."
"Tywin, you can't do this."
"If my power and influence are what keeps The Iron Throne strong, then would you have me sit around as people eroded it?"
Maerys was speechless. Tywin did not give him time to think and continued walking down the hall. I had small doubts, not wanting to believe everything at face value, but the Yronwoods have made a direct attack against me. Westeros has been at peace for decades, but with all this tension, when will the wars begin? Tywin thought, worrying about the future of the realm. The realm he had to act in the best interests of.
King's Landing Genna Sheeran
Jacaerys and Genna's marriage may not have been exactly fixed. But she had to admit, the wisdom she spoke to Arwyn seemed to help a bit. Despite him still showing anger a lot, Jacaerys never hit or yelled at Genna again. Is that really a victory for me? she thought. It was quite disgusting to think of not being hit as a victory, but what could she do? If there was no hope for the Jacaerys of youth to return, at the very least, she needed to make the most of the older one.
Genna followed Jacaerys down the hallway as he made his way back to their chambers for the night. The Kingsguard trailed behind, giving Jacaerys the space he looked to have needed. Why Jacaerys needed such space was probably because of her nephew Tywin who had left last week to head south to demand justice for Genna's niece Leana. The effects were quite apparent on Jacaerys, he seemed to be more careful and acted like he was afraid of the walls of the hallway.
Maerys came from around a corner and walked a straight line toward Jacaerys. Genna heard Jacaerys sigh right before Maerys opened his mouth.
"Jacaerys, Lord Tywin will be reaching the Dornish border soon. For now, I advise you proceed with caution until he returns. I suggest more guards for your person and even some to keep watch on your balcony," Maerys said.
Both Genna and Jacaerys reacted negatively, she gasped while Jacaerys crossed his arms.
"We will not allow such a thing!" Genna complained.
"I will not have guards on my balcony, that is going too far, Maerys. Why can't you accept that your paranoia is getting in the way of all that knowledge you got from your books?" Jacaerys asked.
"Jacaerys, this-" Maerys said before being interrupted.
"Silence, I will hear no more. Come, Genna."
Genna did as commanded. Maerys continued following the royal couple. Instead of convincing Jacaerys, he turned his sights on Genna.
"Your Grace, surely you will see reason in my judgement."
Genna shook her head.
"I will not allow guards to be a few steps from the door to our balcony. Have them guard the ground nearby, but not on the balcony itself," Genna explained.
"Genna, do not speak with Maerys, give him time to sleep off all of his foolishness," Jacaerys said.
Everyone finally reached the door of the royal chambers. The Kingsguard joined several regular guards at the door and stood against the wall with hands close to their swords. Jacaerys pushed through the door without letting one of the guards unlocking it. Strange, the guards usually keep that door locked, Genna thought, taking notes.
Genna was about to join Jacaerys when she felt a tug on her arm. The regular guards and Kingsguard drew their swords as Genna turned to see Maerys taking hold of her. With a nod from Genna, the men reluctantly stood down and sheathed their weapons.
"They would strike down the King's brother just for grabbing hold of his wife," Maerys said sadly.
"Maybe he is right, Prince Maerys, maybe these thoughts of yours are of an imagination let loose,"Genna said.
"No, I know I'm right about this. With your brother gone, we do not have a strong loyal ally to protect the King."
Genna shook her head.
"I am a Sheeran too."
"But not the one who sits in Casterly Rock, or one that has gained his confidence."
Genna scowled at Maerys.
"A Sheeran is a Sheeran."
"Whoever said that first, probably meant something else entirely."
"You don't understand our family."
Genna turned around and headed for the door to the royal chambers.
"I don't, but I need House Sheeran to aid us in times of crisis, not understand their family's history and ethics," Maerys called as Genna opened the door.
Still, the door was not locked. Genna looked around the room for Jacaerys. It was strange, it was like he had never even entered. Genna continued forward, slowly scanning the room from left to right in hopes that her eyesight was not failing due to age.
Suddenly, she felt like she stepped in a puddle while her foot was obstructed by something. Genna looked down and saw Jacaerys. Close to the door where she would not see unless she looked down when entering the room, Genna spotted Jacaerys on the ground. His throat cut and in a pool of blood that spread out from his neck.
Genna screamed and recoiled back, her body shutting the door. She almost fell forward when the Kingsguard and guards smashed through the door with swords drawn. Genna regained her balance but quickly fell to her knees to be closer to Jacaerys. Not caring about the blood, Genna continued screaming and tried to wrap her arms around Jacaerys.
A Kingsguard pushed her out of the way and checked the King's condition. Two Kingsguard rushed out to the balcony and looked around while everyone else crowded around Jacaerys' body.
"No! No! No!" Genna screamed.
Maerys pushed through the crowd of guards. His eyes widened at the sight of Jacaerys in a pool blood. He was speechless, only reaching one hand forward and slowly falling to his knees.
"Gods..." Maerys said.
Dorne - Stormlands Border Tywin Sheeran
The march into Dorne would start tomorrow. For now, Tywin camped right on the boundaries to show the Dornish that he was willing to come. Night was coming and the march had to be stopped anyway. Tywin could not keep in his feelings, it was not excitement, but it was somewhat like eagerness but in a negative connotation. Duty, he thought.
Otherys occupied a tent in the centre of the encampment while his dragon would sleep on the perimeter, guarded by men it recognized. The dragon was a remarkable beast, but Drogon was much bigger, its wings being bigger than Otherys'. He never actually remembered the name of the dragon, it had a complex name littered with vowels and "x's".
Tywin was about to head to sleep in his tent when Otherys summoned him. While he could refuse without any legal ramifications, Tywin decided it would be best not to annoy the Crown Prince. He made his way to the tent and spotted several sentries posted around the tent while the entrance was guarded by one man.
The watch of the entrance fell to Ser Petyr Stone, a bastard and Kingsguard who volunteered to come on this. He was one of the younger men and probably volunteered to earn the future King's good graces. Even a group as pure as the Kingsguard will not shy away from politicking. It could be worse, they could be like the Kingslayer, Tywin thought.
Ser Petyr bowed his head and pulled open the tent flap.
"The Crown Prince is waiting for you," Ser Petyr said.
"Very good," Tywin said as he nodded and entered the tent.
The knight did not bother to strip Tywin of Jade. It was understandable, the Dornish could have been close and everyone needed to stay close to their weapons. Tywin bowed his head as soon as he was inside. Otherys was sitting at his desk, waiting as nothing was on it.
"Lord Tywin," Otherys greeted.
"Prince Otherys."
"The Dornish will face our wrath tomorrow."
Tywin shook his head.
"We are looking for justice, not getting revenge."
"These Dornish... all they know is trickery and resistance. We must break them, seeking peace only empowers them."
"My Prince, we are not looking to start a war."
"We don't need a war, all we need is to show the Dornish our combined strength! With a dragon, I can clear any army that stands against us."
Tywin shook his head again.
"You overestimate your dragon's abilities. It is a strong beast, but a beast even bigger than yours was taken down when my grandfather and Prince Rhaekar Targaryen fought against rebels."
"We would look weak if we retreated after coming all this way."
"We're not retreating, we are looking to get the justice for the crimes against my house. Although, the Yronwoods may seek justice for Oberyn."
"Oberyn was a traitor! I will never apologize for protecting my house."
Tywin sighed. Is this the man I must serve? he thought. Jacaerys had threatened to exile Otherys if it came to it. Tywin debated whether this would be good for the realm in the long run with one of his cousins ruling the land. The sons of his Aunt Genna were at least a calm bunch. Not prone to murdering men in cold blood in the middle of a crowded court. Maybe it is the right thing.
Tywin kept a hand on his stomach, feigning an illness if Otherys got curious. His goal was to keep his hand close to his sword as he contemplated the right thing to do. Otherys did not say anything and continued scowling at Tywin, angry that he was not seeing what the Crown Prince believed in.
"Frankly, I don't expect the Yronwoods or other Dornish to apologize for their crimes. We're wasting our time talking, we should be slaughtering them as they did your sister!" Otherys argued.
For the good of the realm, Tywin's father's voice said. Was this what he meant? Would killing a Targaryen really mean peace for the realm? I could probably kill him before anyone got in here, but the guards, the Kingsguard, and the dragon... Tywin thought. He was a good fighter, but a member of the Kingsguard would not be an easy battle for Tywin. His fingers slowly reached closer and closer to the hilt, moving in increments that were remarkably not noticeable to Otherys... until it was too late of course.
He hesitated. Otherys leaned back in his chair and grunted while staring past Tywin and at the tent flap.
"Well? Nothing to argue about?" Otherys asked.
Tywin slowly pulled Jade out. He was careful, trying not to make too much noise as Jade made a hiss that only steel could sing. Such a situation heightened his senses, he could feel the sweat roll down his face while each individual piece of jade he touched revealed their shapes to Tywin's mind. He could smell his sweat too, taste it when it arrived at his lips. Tywin continued slowly pulling out the sword, pushing the hilt down so it was just out of view from Otherys' side of the table.
He heard the tent flap open and quickly pushed the blade back in. It made a louder hiss as it returned to its sheath, but Otherys and whoever was behind did not seem to care. Tywin turned around to see a messenger hastily run up behind his chair to bend the knee.
"Your Grace!" the messenger called.
Your Grace? But Otherys is just a- No... Tywin thought.
"I bring word from King's Landing! King Jacaerys has been murdered!" the messenger continued.
Both Tywin and Otherys jumped from their seats.
"What?! Impossible!" Otherys said angrily.
"Your Grace, your presence is requested in King's Landing; The Iron Throne is yours."
"Then I will go!"
Tywin was conflicted. Would he return to King's Landing or would he continue to seek his justice? For the good of the realm, his father's voice said again. Tywin sighed. Sorry, Leana, he thought. With a sigh, Tywin expressed his relief about no one noticing his movements. Still, for King Jacaerys to die, did this mean the Dornish were finally ready to move forward with the plot? All signs were either pointed or slowly turning toward yes.
Otherys began walking toward the throne. With the Kingsguard following behind him, he was making his final steps as the Crown Prince. If he were to sit down on that throne, nothing would stop him. Genna scowled as the man passed by. As soon as you came, Jacaerys is murdered, she thought. There had to be something she could do, something that would prevent Otherys from taking the throne. It felt... wrong. This was not a succession, it was practically a coup.
Beside Genna were her four sons Daeron, Aelyx, Aemond, and Aeryn. They were only other eligible children of Jacaerys and yet they stood, practically content at the situation. It was not fair, Otherys was but one man, even if he was the eldest, why would Genna's four sons get nothing? While they did nothing to contest Otherys, Daeron and Aelyx did seem displeased at the situation, maintaining expressions of anger that were only slightly less intense than Genna's.
The coronation was a crowded affair, noble guests from all over Westeros had gathered in the throne room to witness Otherys take the throne. The only group of people that were notably absent were the Dornish. Most had left following the killing of Oberyn Yronwood and did not return, not just because of their fears, but because Otherys had publicly not invited any of them. Genna wanted to believe the Dornish had something to do with Jacaerys' death, but the murder came almost immediately after he left, possibly using her nephew Tywin as a convenient cover.
Otherys began walking up the steps as the Kingsguard formed a line at the bottom of them. If Genna wanted to attack now, there was no way she was getting past those knights. Even then, she carried no weapons or had any allies. All of this planning she did in her head was useless. Wishful thinking.
With the steps conquered, the last obstacle in Otherys' path to officially become the King was the High Septon. The High Septon extended his arms out to his sides as Otherys knelt. He nodded and placed both hands on Otherys' cheeks.
"We are here to witness the coronation of King Otherys of the House Targaryen," The High Septon said. "Please rise, and speak your oath to the realm."
Otherys stood up.
"I will fight to protect the House of Targaryen against any enemy that would dare attack its realm," Otherys said.
The High Septon was confused and so was everyone else. Those were not the words spoken by his ancestors like Allyria and Jacaerys. Everyone began whispering to each other as Otherys rose up and stared silently at the man standing in front of his throne. Was this because he forgot the words? Or was this because he wanted to do something differently? Those were the theories she heard everyone whisper about. From one side of the room to the other, the coronation had been thrown into a bout of confusion.
In the hands of the High Septon was the crown. Despite what looked like Otherys' insistence, the holy man kept holding the crown. Suddenly, Otherys raised his hands and snatched it out of the High Septon's hands. He walked away to the top of the steps of the platform the throne resided on in order to be seen by everyone. Presenting the crown, Otherys held it up before gently placing it on his head.
The crowd refrained from yelling, but noises of displeasure and intentional loud whispering took over the room.
"How could he do such a thing?" Daeron asked.
"Haven't you heard the rumours? Otherys is a monster," Aelyx answered quietly.
Genna said nothing but nodded. He's more than a monster, she thought. Otherys turned around and walked toward the throne. The High Septon still stood in the way, but the old man of faith stepped aside when Otherys made no indication of going around him. He sat down on The Iron Throne, letting his arms lay on the armrests while sitting up straight like a proper gentleman. And that was it, Otherys was now the King.
Otherys smiled and began scanning the crowd. Genna averted her eyes when the King's gaze fell on her general direction. She could not dare look the man in the eyes. No, she could not look the monster in the eyes. Soon, the man's smile turned to a frown that in turn became a scowl. He changes emotions so quickly, is he even human? Of course not, Genna thought.
Everyone began looking around. It did not take long for all the eyes in the throne room to look upon the one man who did not have any. Tywin crossed his arms, suspicious about why Otherys would call upon Raymund. The blind man was across from Tywin, near where Genna and her four sons were standing. Raymund used his cane to navigate out into the middle of the aisle separating both crowds at each side of the throne room.
"I am here, Your Grace!" Raymund answered.
He slowly turned clockwise, moving toward the line of Kingsguard. Otherys was tapping his fingers on the armrests as he waited for Raymund to approach. He let out a loud sigh and got up from the throne. Everyone wondered what he was going to do next, but Otherys only walked down the steps. There was a slight grace as he placed a foot on each step in his descent. Even though Tywin had spent some time with him, the man's mannerisms still shocked him. If he was not so vicious and bloodthirsty, he would be perceived as a man with a kingly aura. Yet, everyone in the throne room knew of what Otherys was, even the Kingsguard sworn to protect him.
He approached Raymund and stopped him by planting his open palm on the blind man's chest. With a huff, Raymund halted before taking a step back to bend the knee.
"Your Grace, your loyal servant awaits your order," Raymund said.
"Loyal servant?" Otherys asked loudly.
"Your Grace?"
Otherys grabbed Raymund by the shoulders and pulled him up, the sudden rise made him drop his cane which clacked on the floor from the awkward silence. Raymund squirmed but could not free himself as Otherys' grip seemed to be quite tight. Tywin felt a thumping in his chest. He dared not step in and anger the King. But... Raymund was a friend, an ally. What would it say about House Sheeran to the Waynwoods if Raymund had been left to fend for himself as Tywin watched? Tywin tried to lift a leg to step forward. He felt it move, but when he looked down, the foot was where it began. Frozen while the muscles in them gave off the feeling of movement.
"You let my father die..." Otherys said.
"Your Grace, I'm just the Master of Coin!"
"Silence, you worm!"
Raymund plummeted to the ground after Otherys threw him from his grip. The man groaned when he hit the floor and crawled while reaching a hand out, searching for his cane. Otherys kicked the cane away so Raymund would not be able to grab it. This did not deter Raymund as he began turning toward where the cane was, referencing the sound of its clacking.
When he did this, Raymund exposed the side of his body as he continued crawling. Otherys did not hesitate and stomped on Raymund's hip. Raymund let out a great cry and rolled over which in turn exposed his belly. Not even hesitating, Otherys kicked Raymund's stomach which almost flipped him over. Again, he cried, in greater agony this time.
"You let my father die!" Otherys screamed.
People in the crowd began to look away while others could not help but stare. Loud talking had taken over the whispers. Some of the voices were openly criticizing the King, others demanding him to show mercy. Tywin was amazed at the bravery of those that did this. But then, he looked at Otherys. Gods... his eyes, his mouth, Tywin thought.
Otherys' eyes were completely wide open, almost looking like they were ready to burst from the sockets. Meanwhile, his mouth showed his teeth, his dragon fangs. Tywin could hear the man grunt with every kick. Were it cold, Tywin might have been able to see the large plumes of vapour that would have been produced with such exertion. Otherys was in a complete trance, unaware of the crowd's yelling and begging. This was something Tywin had never seen before, not even for a great warrior like his father.
Raymund continued crying, blood dripping from his mouth. Otherys was not barred by the man's desperation, and so the assault continued. He showed no indication of stopping, potentially killing Raymund if this went on for any longer. Raymund was not exactly sitting down and letting this happen to him, he flailed his arms about in hopes of stopping another kick.
Eventually, he managed to catch one of Otherys' feet. The King hesitated, but used his other foot to stomp on Raymund's hand which made him scream even louder, blood shooting out of his mouth like a broken fountain.
"While Lord Tywin and I were gone, you failed to protect my father!" Otherys yelled.
Tywin clenched his fists. He could not take anymore of this, especially now that Otherys was making it seem like Tywin was agreeing with what was happening. He did not. The cane was far from Raymund but Tywin walked forward and picked it up. People began to notice Tywin and turned their gossip to him. Two of the Kingsguard stepped forward, moving in a way that looked to intercept Tywin.
He would reach this beating before they would, but Tywin quickened his pace just in case. One of the Kingsguard ran forward and drew his sword. He pointed it forward which made it fly right past Tywin's face. The blade lowered a bit and hovered around Tywin's neck, obviously threatening Tywin and letting him know he could not take another step forward. Within the openings of this Kingsguard's helmet, Tywin could see familiar eyes, those of Ser Petyr Stone, the young knight that had accompanied him and Otherys to the Dornish border.
Otherys was about to make another kick when he looked up and noticed a sword close to him. He almost recoiled in shock at the sword but immediately regained his composure and jerked his head back and forth from Tywin.
"Lord Tywin, what are you doing?" Otherys asked with heavy breaths between every syllable.
"Your Grace, please, stop this," Tywin begged.
"My father is dead because of this trash!"
Otherys motioned for another kick. Tywin ducked down and quickly held Otherys back. He managed to stop Otherys but immediately felt someone grab him from behind. Tywin was thrown away and he drew Jade reflexively. A hundred other blades announced their presence, but it was Jade that had the distinct voice. Tywin did not adopt a stance, trying to show that he was not hostile. He looked around and noticed all the Kingsguard and Targaryen soldiers with their weapons out, some slowly advancing toward him.
"Your Grace! You need to stop!" Tywin yelled.
"I trusted him because I heard you trusted him! He has failed both of us! He must pay for his crimes!"
Tywin quickly sheathed Jade and ran up to Otherys again. Ser Petyr attempted to use his sword to stop Tywin but he swiftly sidestepped it and took hold of Otherys. He stared up into his eyes, breathing heavily. These are not the eyes of a king, but a killer, Tywin thought.
"Your Grace! Punish those that did the deed! Not the one who failed to protect him!"
Otherys continued inhaling and exhaling slowly, his head bobbing back and forth. Tywin could feel Otherys' breath, smell it too. It was not as bad as he thought it would be, mostly smelling of meat from lunch.
"My father is dead, there must be justice."
"Your Grace, your anger is justified, but it is not toward Raymund. Your Grace, please, if you would cooperate with me and Prince Maerys, we may be able to find these killers."
Otherys stepped forward and looked down at Raymund. Tywin prepared himself to stop another kick. However, instead of kicking Raymund again, Otherys spit on him.
"So pathetic... Look at Lord Tywin, a man so loyal and just he would defend you even after all your failings. Get him out of here!"
Otherys turned around to head back to his throne. Several guards approached Tywin but stopped when he raised his hand.
"I will take him."
Tywin knelt down next to Raymund and checked to see if he was still alive. He was breathing, but still in critical condition. His robes were covered in blood and footprints, even a combination of the two which harshly indicated at what point into the savage beating Otherys was as his boots continued to soak up more blood. Tywin sighed at the sight of him, he was a man that faced so much torment throughout his life that was not even his fault. The only saving grace was that Raymund could not see the damage that was done. Although, that might have meant the pain was much more intense with heightened senses.
"Can you walk?" Tywin asked.
"I can..." Raymund answered, blood swarming out when his lips moved.
Tywin carefully pulled the man up to his feet. He looked around the entire room and saw everyone watching him. The Lord of The Westerlands was arguably the most powerful man in all of The Seven Kingdoms other than the King and even his power was put to question when it came to House Sheeran. Despite all of this power, here was Tywin letting himself be used as something to lean on for someone that was practically a cripple.
He spotted the eyes of sympathy as he walked. Soon, he locked eyes with Genna and saw her frown and nod. Three of her sons did the same, Aemond was the one who did not do the gesture. Raymund and Tywin's steps were the only things making noise in the entire throne room, everyone too speechless to say something. It was haunting, frightening even, that this coronation was a silent affair rather a joyous occasion.
Tywin offered Raymund's cane back to him but was refused as Raymund could not exactly use his hands. Once the two reached the doors out of the throne room, they waited for the men standing guard to open them. While he waited, Tywin looked back and saw the trail of blood on the beautiful floor. The trail would lead to a large puddle where Raymund would have been and an imprint was visible even from all the way at the end of the room. Leading away from the puddle and up to the Kingsguard was a trail of footprints made with blood. Tywin followed it and looked up, seeing Otherys sitting on The Iron Throne. Barely an hour on the throne and already blood had been spilled during Otherys' reign. King's Landing Tywin Sheeran
The Hand's pin flew across the table and bounced a few steps before landing in the reach of Otherys' arms. Jonas Lolliston stood defiantly at the width of the table opposite of Otherys. Tywin and the other members of the Small Council watch in awe from the sides, turning their heads back and forth between the two. Otherys stood up from his seat, not in a quick and impulsive way, but a slow, almost inhuman rise.
"You think you can resign from my council?" Otherys asked angrily.
"I refuse to serve you. You are a fool among fools! Allyria was loved, Jacaerys could be tolerated, but you, you are no better than the shit on a stableboy's shoes!" Jonas Lolliston berated.
Otherys picked up the Hand's pin and threw it back at Jonas.
"Put the pin back on, and we will forget this ever happened."
Jonas snorted.
"You can shove it up your ass after you yourself are dropped into the deepest pit in the Seven Hells."
Otherys pointed a finger at Jonas and moved it in a disciplining manner as he opened his mouth.
"You would openly commit an act of treason against the King?"
Tywin shook his head and raised a hand.
"Your Grace, it is not treason to resign," Tywin argued.
Jonas smiled and nodded at Tywin while Maerys eyed him cautiously. Was that the right thing to do? Should I even defend someone Maerys warned me about? Tywin thought.
Some of the other council members stood up too. Emmond Darke and Waymar Grafton joined Jonas at the end of the table. Now, the only people on the council that were still seated were Tywin and Maerys. Otherys scowled at the men, his fists now clenched while his face was turning red.
"If it is not treason to resign, we will also hand in their resignations," Emmond Darke said.
"You men are scum! No wonder Maerys suspects you so much!" Otherys screamed.
Maerys gave a disapproving head shake and frowned. While they might have known Maerys was suspicious of them, it still was not good form to outright say it to the men, especially if they were actually ignorant of this.
"We take our leave, Your Grace," Waymar Grafton said.
The three men did not bow their heads and walked away. Otherys' reign barely lasted an hour before blood was spilled, now, his reign barely lasted a fortnight before his administration was falling apart. These resignations were obviously a response to the brutal display that Otherys had made during his coronation and Tywin could not exactly blame them.
He considered resigning too. For the good of the realm, Tywin's father's voice said. That was the only thing keeping him; he would have easily joined those three on their departure if that were not the case. Tywin tried to kill Otherys before and failed, unable to draw his sword without getting out alive. Or maybe, he was too scared to fight at all. He had trained greatly sure, but he never actually tasted combat. He had seen battlefields and read books, but other men had experience which was something Tywin dangerously lacked.
Despite this, Tywin still had a way to keep some peace. He saw that there was still at least some reason in the King, or at least, Tywin somehow had an effect on him. It was Tywin that eventually convinced Otherys to stop kicking Raymund. As much as he hated the idea of Otherys still being the King, Tywin had a duty to use what influence he had over him to keep the realm from fracturing after more barbaric acts.
Tywin sighed and looked at Maerys who rested his chin on his hand.
"You've really done it now, Nephew," Maerys said.
"We don't need them, they're traitors," Otherys said.
"That may be, but better an enemy we know than an enemy we don't; it will take time for us to find replacements and even more to see if they are trustworthy," Tywin argued.
Maerys nodded.
"My spies tell me The Reach is outraged at what you've done. Raymund will soon be back in Highgarden like your father intended, but this time, he will be our enemy instead of a friend," Maerys explained.
"He let my father die, what threat could that useless blind bastard be?" Otherys asked.
"The man may be blind, but his army of thirty or so thousand men can see just fine."
"Uncle, stop with your fear mongering. We have ousted the Dornish agents from our council and have the support of a loyal and powerful house in the Sheerans."
Tywin cringed. Jacaerys was always so suspicious of Tywin and was prone to being upset. Despite this, Tywin served faithfully hoping that the King would see his value one day. Otherys on the other hand indeed valued Tywin's power and influence, but this was at the cost of him being one of the worst men Tywin had ever met in his life. This was not what I wanted, he thought.
A messenger stepped into the room. It was strange, usually the Grand Maester delivered all messages and letters. The visitor immediately went for Maerys and handed him a rolled up parchment. Maerys nodded at the messenger and dismissed him with a wave as he unrolled it the letter. He did not take long to read it and Tywin could see the frown forming on his face.
"Well, Nephew, you may hate my fear mongering, but at least it kept us safe. I get letters delivered to my study; they only go to me directly when the news in incredibly urgent," Maerys explained.
"What is it?" Tywin asked.
"Thanks to Otherys' little stunt, Raymund has called his banners and is declaring open rebellion against The Iron Throne."
Otherys did not seem disturbed by the news, as if expecting it. He simply nodded and then looked to Tywin.
"Lord Tywin, the day has finally come. You must serve the realm as our Chief General and crush the enemy. You are to return to The Westerlands and call your banners." Otherys commanded.
Tywin nodded, even if he was reluctant as he could not show any hesitation to a man like Otherys.
"I will do as commanded, Your Grace," Tywin said.
Otherys smiled, a very unsettling sight because of how normal it was. For someone who had killed one man and beaten another in front of hundreds of people, he just seemed so... normal when he did not do those things. Tywin felt his skin crawl just from the man's presence, unable to muster any bit of respect for him.
Raymund, what have you done? Tywin thought. He understood why he did what he was doing, but that did not exactly make it the best move for the realm. What made matters worse was that Tywin would be the highest level commander other than the King. It would be Tywin that would be orchestrating Raymund's demise. He had loyalty to his friend, even remembering the image of him helping the battered Raymund leaving. But he also had loyalty to his father and the realm, even if it were damaged from the reign of Otherys. Raymund was a friend, yes, but in the interests of the realm, Tywin needed to march out to destroy this rebellion.
I believe at this point in time, there's seven dragons in Westeros(technically some in Essos because of Yunkai), mostly in the hands of House Targaryen. The only other Westerosi house with a dragon I can remember is House Celtigar. In Essos, I believe there are about five which are mostly concentrated in Volantis.
