This chapter is extra long because there's just so much good stuff to cram into it.
Chapter 13 - Gwyneth VII
48-51 AL
Gwyneth sat at the head of the council table. There were only three other people currently present in the room besides her: Qarl Orkwood, her Master-of-Laws, Drennan Farwynd, her Master-at-Arms, and her sister Margot, her Master-of-Coin.
"You all know why you're here. What do we have and what do we need?" Gwyneth asked, motioning out to the trio.
"Between your own personal levies and those of your vassals, we can muster a force of roughly twenty-three thousand men and enough ships to carry thrice that amount." Lord Drennan opened.
"The treasury can support the contracting of three typical mercenary companies. Keeping them paid is the bigger issue, however; we'll only be able to manage it for three or four months at most." Margot continued.
Qarl leaned back in his chair, as usual. "We cannot rely on the Baratheons for assistance or even to hold; the young child is widely regarded as an imbecile and unsuited to further rule, and the only real reason he wasn't replaced instantly was his distant relation to the King. As it stands, his regency can muster a host of, at most, six and a half thousand men - nowhere near enough to contend with the nearly thirty-five thousand men that Loras Tyrell can muster."
Gwyneth nodded and drummed her fingers against the table. "Very well. Qarl, send some overtures to the little Baratheon's regent; at the very least, being able to know where the Tyrell host is would be useful, and we might be able to improve our standing in the King's eyes if we're seen to be defending his young cousin. Lord Drennan, you have absolute command of the host. In addition, I want you to hire as many mercenaries as we can currently afford; which ones specifically are at your discretion. Margot, send a message to the Iron Bank to secure the funds necessary to keep the mercenaries on retainer. Any questions?" All three shook their heads. "Well then. Dismissed."
The two older men got up and left, with Lord Drennan leading the way, but Margot remained at her seat and waited for them to leave.
"You have a smaller problem, Gwyneth; Gretchel and Wex are going to need their own tutors soon, and the funds are going to have to come from somewhere. You can't exactly not see to their education." Margot spoke with a not-so-subtle hint towards their father's own stingy nature.
Gwyneth nodded in agreement. "You're right. However, with the amount that you'll be able to get from the Iron Bank, we'll be able to finance the mercenaries and our own forces for about a year and a half, and we'll doubtless secure more gold from the Reach and your own efforts in Pyke. If the worst comes and we start to run low on funds, we'll simply throw the mercenaries at some walls, let them expend their usefulness, and let them go with a smile and a pat on the cheek."
Margot looked a bit discomforted at that statement, but mutely accepted it.
___________________________________
Gwyneth parried another one of Beony's blows. The scene was almost comical in nature: mother in daughter, nearly thirty years apart, striking at one another with practice swords. Well, it would have been comical if they were simply flailing about at each other, but such was not the case. While Beony certainly did not have the height or muscle tone to present an actual threat at the moment, her skill was certainly improving, and she had actually managed to hit Gwyneth in the ankle earlier.
Beony tried again to strike her mother, but this time Gwyneth caught her on her fingers and she dropped the practice sword, yelping in pain and cursing up a storm. Gwyneth clucked.
"What did I say about speaking like that, dear?"
"Only do it in verse, mother."
"No, that's not-" Gwyneth sighed in exasperation. "Fine. We're done for today." She promptly ignored the plaintive wails of her daughter as she caught sight of the very pregnant Margot.
Margot winced and clutched at her belly as Gwyneth approached. "How did you manage to go through this six times? By the Drowned God, this is intolerable."
Gwyneth smiled lightly. "It does get easier. And you do forget. Honestly, however, it's the bedding beforehand." Her own wink was met by her sister's glare. "And it's easier when one is in charge." Gwyneth briefly scowled. "Except for the midwives; dealing with them is an experience I never look forward to." She glanced over Margot. "Speaking of which, I doubt they'd let you walk about on your own in this state without good reason. And yes, before you ask, I have seen to Wex's tutors - the money coming in from the Shield Islands and the citizenry of Pyke are greatly helping to plug the money drain that is the war."
Margot shook her head. "No, not especially. This is just the last opportunity I'll get to shake those harridans before they practically tie me to the bed. Though, Qarl did send a raven to you, apparently. Here." Margot pulled out a small scroll and handed it to Gwyneth, who quickly glanced over it.
"Hm. It seems Lord Loras is making an issue over my own attempt to press my matrilineal ties; I'll need to go to King's Landing posthaste." Gwyneth looked up at Margot. "Should I stay around for your first?"
Margot once again glared at her. "If you're anywhere within a hundred paces of that, I swear I'll kill you for the temerity of keeping those damn devils around."
Gwyneth chuckled. "Of course you will."
____________________________________
Qarl looked up from the bench he was sitting on at Gwyneth. "You're quite late, you know."
Gwyneth's heart froze, but Qarl simply motioned at the open space beside him, and she woodenly sat down.
"Fortunately for you, I am a consummate diplomat, and managed to fix the problem with no issues. Prior to my involvement, Loras Tyrell was well on the track to marrying into the royal family and securing the King's favor in dealing with you in whatever matter he saw fit." Qarl chuckled. "Was he surprised when I started passionately arguing for little Steffon's own rights."
"And?" Gwyneth spoke, her voice split between worry and impatience.
"And, to make a long speech short, the boy's regent was so moved he broke the agreement that had been made between the previous Lords Tyrell and Baratheon to marry Loras and Rhaenys, Loras came out looking like a fool, and I daresay that King Maelon only mostly detests you now."
Gwyneth sighed in relief, and Qarl's face stretched into a smirk. "Moreover, the young, unmarried Princess Rhaenys is currently under that very same regent's purview. And, as I recall, young Urzen, well." His lips curled in disgust as he finished; it was, perhaps, the one big rift between Gwyneth and her majordomo: whatever else, Qarl was quite a devout man after his experience saving Bryan Arryn during a storm at sea (which he admitted to regretting after the divorce), and Urzen was being groomed to be a member of the Faith. A member of the Faith with a comprehensive understanding of the Drowned God, yes, but a "heathen" nonetheless.
"Where is Steffon Baratheon's regent now?" Gwyneth asked.
"Halfway back to Storm's End by this point, I wager."
She nodded. "Then let's set sail at once; there's a marriage to arrange."
Qarl stood up and offered his hand to Gwyneth. "How goes the war?"
"Well. Apparently, Loras' marshals cannot decide whether to fight us or the Baratheons; they march in circles around the heartland of the Reach, all the while our fleet occupies the Shield Islands. After all, there's no point in further aggravating the lords of the Reach, or the King, by massacring men in assault after assault."
____________________________________
Gwyneth looked at Rhaenys Targaryen as she approached. She had to admit that the princess was rather attractive, even if that was mostly her exotic appearance and not any stroke of good fortune or particular effort.
"Tea?" Gwyneth offered, holding up a cup with a rather strong brew. Not what she personally enjoyed, but Storm's End had precious little tea available at all.
"N-n-no thank you." Rhaenys responded with barely veiled contempt, which Gwyneth studiously ignored before offering the princess a seat. They sat in silence for a few moments before Rhaenys broke the quiet.
"Y-y-you know that f-f-father won't allow t-this."
Gwyneth nodded. "Very true. The good King Maelon has a rather singular obsession with the Faith of the Seven, and looks down on those that do not cleave to it." Gwyneth took a sip from the cup and set it down on the table. "It is good, then, that the person currently responsible for you is not your father. Little Steffon's regent and, so I am lead to believe, you as well, are not quite so fanatical."
"Y-y-your point?"
"My point, Princess Rhaenys, is that the regent is quite interested in keeping his position. And if Loras Tyrell were to come down to Storm's End with his army, he could quickly remove little Steffon Baratheon and with him, his regent. And, well, he sees quite the profit in catering to my desires; namely, my desire to not send a raven to my marshal telling him to sail for the Arbor."
"A-a-and what ab-ab-about my desires, hm?"
Gwyneth sighed. "It is a sad truth, Rhaenys, that women do not get to choose their husbands. My position is rather unique; my father died when I was still young and before any agreement had been solidified. Did you know that I was once promised to your youngest brother?" Rhaenys shook her head in a mixture of confusion and wonder. "Ah, well, now you do. Unfortunately, that didn't pan out; spending over a decade without a husband was not an option. And, as half the realm no doubt knows, even having the choice does not result in happiness." A note of bitterness crept into Gwyneth's tone before she caught it.
She shook her head to clear it. "However, no agreement has been made yet. You see, I am actually particular about these things, which is why I'm seeing you now rather than in Pyke as my son drapes his cloak over you. He's around here somewhere, actually." Gwyneth took another sip of her tea. "Anyway, what, if anything, do you know about him?"
"H-h-he's a f-f-filthy p-pirate, like the r-rest of you." Rhaenys spat.
Gwyneth sighed. "Well, I see he'll have his hands full with you." Gwyneth stood up and went to the balcony doors. "He'll be around shortly. We leave in... two days. With or without you." Gwyneth shrugged. "Your choice."
When the time came for them to leave, Rhaenys Targaryen came along, her eyes full of more curiosity than hatred, following closely behind Urzen.
"The actual ceremony is going to have to wait, I'm afraid, until after the war. Still, at least then we'll be able to host a proper ceremony and feast."
____________________________________
"And, that, children, is why you don't hunt alone in the one forest on Pyke."
"But mom..." - Beony
"NO! No exceptions. And why did you bring along Wex anyway? He's SIX! Now off to your room and back to your studies."
"Yes, mother." - Wex
"Yes, mom." - Beony
____________________________________
"So, they have eight thousand more men than us."
"Yes."
"And they're just staying on the other side of the Mander."
"Yes."
"And they've been there for months."
"Yes."
"Have they ever moved on Highgarden?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"They stopped within days."
"
Really?"
"Yes."
"How incompetent are they?"
"Very, my lady."
"Carry on, then, I suppose."
And so they did. Right up until Highgarden fell.
___________________________________
Gwyneth rushed about Pyke, seeing to all the last minute feast preparations. "What's the guest list?"
The servant running by her side studied the list. "Everyone that's a direct vassal, barring Lords Hosman, Luthor, Gormon-"
"Only tell me the names of the High Lords. For the minor lords, just a number."
"As you wish, m'lady. Lord Luthor of Blueburn and Lord Leo of the Northmarch for the High Lords. Seven lesser lords."
"Loras Tyrell is attending?"
"Yes, m'lady."
"Hm."
The actual feast itself was...
unique, to say the least. Most of the lords of the Reach openly glared at the Iron Islanders, though some at least made the attempt to mingle. There were more than a few exceptionally rude individuals, including the Iron Islander Lord Ragnor, who drank entirely too much wine, had a row with a few other Reachmen, and finally threw up on Margot's shoes (for which he was slapped, but no one could really tell by that point as he had passed out).
Ostensibly, this was a wedding feast designed to celebrate the marriage of Urzen Greyjoy and Rhaenys Targaryen, though the way some lords glared at others made Gwyneth wonder if this would dissolve into a bloodbath. The earlier announcement that Lord Reynard of Alden Keep would be replacing Lord Drennan as her Master-at-Arms had stifled the pressure somewhat, but she could still feel it boiling up.
Fortunately, matters came to a head when her Maester rushed in, which drew more than a few eyes to the dais. Gwyneth took the letter, read it, read it again, read it a third time, then handed it back to the Maester before standing up primly, fixing Finger Dancer's necklace, and folding her hands behind her back.
"It seems, esteemed lords and ladies, that one of you - Lord Leo, to be precise - is not happy with the current way of things." She waited for a suitable amount of time to let the tension. "He has decided that things would go much better if he could decide how the succession should go: all to the firstborn, rather than split up among the sons." The silence in the room was palpable as Gwyneth idly played with her dagger. "Now, I doubt he is alone in this desire. Would his compatriots stand up? I promise no harm will come to you; you are, after all, under guest right."
The silence continued for a long time before one finally stood, which broke the floodgates; by the end of it, six High Lords of the Reach and a smattering of lesser ones were standing. Gwyneth just nodded and continued caressing Finger Dancer.
"I thank you for your candidness. In fact, I have even come up with my response." The already think tension intensified to the point that one could practically see it.
"You are, of course, entirely correct."
The confusion in the hall was evident: Gwyneth didn't do this. She held on to power with an iron grip, killing all who opposed her. Well, yes, that was true, but she wasn't stupid. This scenario smacked of the spectacularly botched plot that her father had told her about that had occurred at the start of his reign. In one stroke, she could placate the lords, secure her position, and solve any problems that might come down the line. After all, splitting titles might become a headache if she or her son were to increase their power in the Reach. Not that that meant she wouldn't repay the favour in kind later - she would - but this served her purposes just as well.
"I'm sure the... fourteen? Yes, fourteen of you have some method of contacting Lord Leo. I would greatly appreciate if you did. But now, let us get back to the main event: the wedding!" Gwyneth waved magnanimously and burned the fourteen faces into memory.
___________________________________
A/N: First, the happy couple:
Now, to address a few things. Yes, King Maelon did not intervene. It was a VERY close thing, but Loras just could not quite overcome the Foreigner penalty to make King Maelon's opinion of him positive.
Yes, there was a bit of cheating involved with the marriage to begin with. I addressed that at the beginning.
No, there were no big battles that occurred. I think I actually managed to break the Reach AI by landing right when their army was in between the Greyjoy host and the small Baratheon host, which meant the AI could never quite decide who they wanted to focus on. They never crossed the straight from Manderford to the Shield Islands, which was, in all likelihood, a good idea, but neither did they turn around to deal with the tiny Baratheon host and gain more troops that way. The initial war plan was to just take the entirety of the Shield Islands and lesser, smaller lordships through my superior mobility until I had enough warscore to just win, but I decided to chance Highgarden when the number disparity wasn't too huge (river between Manderford and Highgarden worked to my advantage). I guess I broke the AI there, because they just sat there. Forever. And did nothing. Occasionally they would march against me and then break it off a day or two later. So... somewhat disappointing. But I'll take it.
I pulled the number fourteen out of thin air for the supporting lords. I'll probably just pick some of the more recalcitrant High Lords and retroactively make them the faction supporters.
And yes, I did cheat with Urzen's religious preferences. Again, stated at the start. On a sidenote, however, it appears that Cruelty is genetic in the Greyjoys. Neat. And his diplomacy... well, when you have a proper education and your tutor has 27 diplomacy, let's just say things go VERY well. I really,
really,
REALLY, lucked out when I got Qarl.