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The Lonely Fawn

Hey, this is my second try at a Game of Thrones AAR. I hope this one will be longer lived than my other AAR. This one takes place in an alternate course of events that occur during The War of the Five Kings. I will be playing as Shireen Baratheon, rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The story will be told from her perspective in the form of diary entries, as well as with the help of other POV characters in the third person. Be warned, there will be spoilers for A Game of Thrones and half of A Clash of Kings, or seasons 1 and 2 of the Tv show. Please enjoy!
Previous work: (as Redmoonbeam)
https://forum.paradoxplaza.com/foru...-yi-ti-or-at-the-edge-of-civilization.827779/
Tables of Content's:
Part One: Recovery and Tyranny:
Chapter I-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter II-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter III- Selyse Florent
Chapter IV-Tyrion Lannister
Chapter V-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter VI-Daenerys Targaryen
Chapter VII-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter VIII-Jaime Lannister
Chapter IX-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter X-Davos Seaworth
Chapter XI-Brandon Stark
Chapter XII-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter XIII-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter XIV-Shireen Baratheon
Part Two: Rebellion:
Chapter XV-Jaime Lannister
Chapter XVI-Tyrion Lannister
Chapter XVII-Brandon Stark
Chapter XVIII-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter XIX-Tyrion Lannister
Chapter XX-Catelyn Tully
Chapter XXI-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter XXII-Margaery Tyrell
Chapter XXIII-Catelyn Tully
Chapter XXIV-The Kingsguard
Chapter XXV-Shireen Baratheon
Chapter XXVI-Catelyn Tully
Chapter XXVII-Tyrion Lannister
Chapter XXVIII-Margaery Tyrell
Part Three: A New Age:
Chapter XXIX-Shireen Baratheon

Chapter XXX-Daenerys Targaryen
Chapter XXXI-Margaery Tyrell
Dramatis Personae:
House Baratheon of the Stormslands:


LADY SHIREEN BARATHEON, lady paramount of the Stormlands, a girl of twelve

Her parents:
-Her father, {LORD STANNIS BARATHEON}, pretender to the Iron Throne, died in a trial of combat at age 38
-Her mother,LADY SELYSE FLORENT, and a key member of the regency

Her court:
-LADY MELISANDRE, regent and red priestess at Storm’s End
-SER AXELL FLORENT, castellan of Storm’s End
-LORD DAVOS SEAWORTH, master of laws and lord of the Rainwood
-DALE SEAWORTH, his heir
-DAVOS SEAWORTH, Shireen’s betrothed
-SER GODRY FARRING, master-of-arms
-LORD ALESANDER STAEDMON, master of coin, lord of Broad Arch, also known as "PENNYLOVER"
-SER WILLIAM FOXGLOVE, master of whisperers
-MAESTER RONNET, maester of Storm’s End
-SER MARRANCE RAMBTON, a malcontent
-SER ERREN FLORENT, Shireen’s uncle and Selyse’s brother
-SER IMRY FLORENT, Selyse’s other brother

Her Bannermen:
-LORD RALPH BUCKLER, high lord of the Bronzegate.
-LORD MANFRED DONDARRION, lord of Blackhaven
-SER HARLON, lord of Durran’s point
-LORD CRISTON SYWGERT, lord of Galemont
-LORD HARWOOD FELL, lord of the Fellwood, and a follower of R’hllor
-HARLAN, a peasant in his court
-LORD JANOS BAR EMMON, lord Sharp point
-LORD RONNET CONNINGTON, lord in Griffin’s Roost
-LORD HUMFREY CLIFTON, lord of Dragonstone

House Baratheon of King’s Landing:



KING JOFFREY BARATHEON, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, lord paramount of the North, 16 years of age

His Family:
-{KING ROBERT BARATHEON}, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,his father, ruled 14 years, died of a hunt at 36
-DOWAGER QUEEN CERSEI LANNISTER, mother of the king
-QUEEN MARGAERY TYRELL, his wife and Mistress of Laws
-PRINCESS SYLVIA, his daughter

His Council:
-LORD TYWIN LANNISTER, warden of the west, shield of Lannisport, and lord paramount of the Westerlands, the king’s grandfather, and Hand of the King
-LORD JAIME LANNISTER, lord commander of the Kingsguard, the king’s uncle, and master-at arms. Also known as THE KINGSLAYER
-LORD TYRION LANNISTER, lord of the Riverlands, the king’s uncle and Tywin’s unofficial heir, master of coins.
-LORD VARYS, the master of whisperers, also known as THE SPIDER
-GRAND MAESTER PYCELLE, an old man
-MAESTER ORTENGREN, his likely successor
-THE HIGH SEPTON, known as “THE FAT ONE”

His Bannermen:
-PRINCE DORAN, prince of the Dorne
-WILLAS TYRELL,lord paramount of the Reach
-LORAS TYRELL, a Kingsguard knight and killer of Stannis Baratheon
-GARLAN TYRELL, Willas’ brother
-LORD PARMEN CRANE, one of his bannermen
-LORD ROBERT ARRYN, lord paramount of the Vale
-the lords of the North

The Lords of the North:



House Stark: LORD BRANDON STARK, high lord of Winterfell and a boy of twelve
His Family:
-His father, {LORD EDDARD STARK}, warden of the north, hand of the King, and executed at 36 by order of King Joffrey
-His mother, CATELYN TULLY
-{KING ROBB STARK}, called “THE YOUNG WOLF”. Executed for treason at the age of nineteen, after losing his war of independance
-LADY ROSLIN FREY, his wife, remarried to a Strong after his death
-ROGER STARK, his son
-LADY SANSA STARK, married to a brother of the lord of Edgerton
-ARYA STARK, missing
-RICKON STARK, his brother and heir

Other lords:
-LORD RICKARD KARSTARK, lord of the Karhold
-{TORHENN KARSTARK}, killed at the Kingslayer’s hand
- {EDDARD KARSTARK}, killed at the Kingslayer’s hand
-HARRION KARSTARK, his third son and heir
-LORD ROOSE BOLTON, lord of the Dreadfort
-RAMSAY SNOW, his bastard
-JON UMBER, also known as the “GREATJON”, high lord of Last Hearth
-HARMOND UMBER, one of his sons.
-ALYSSE MORMONT, lord of Bear Island

The Queen Across the Narrow Sea:


PRINCESS DAENERYS TARGARYEN: the ward of Illyrio, and the tamer of dragons.

Her handmaidens:
-JHIQUI
-IRRI

MAGISTER ILLYRIO MOPATIS, ruler of Pentos, protector and ally of Daenerys
-PYNTO MOPATIS, his firstborn son.

* * *
Chapter 1-Shireen Baratheon

7th Moon, Day 20, Year 302 AL


Dear Marianne,



I am writing to you from my tower room in this great new castle. Except it isn’t really a new castle, but an ancient one, one of the oldest in the whole world. Maester Cressen used to tell me stories of how a wise wolf from the North built it so high and tall that nothing would ever get in. The god of storms threw all his might at these great strong walls, but still they wouldn’t come down. I loved to hear him tell stories, but ever since he’s disappeared I have no one to talk to. Mother left Patches on Dragonstone. She says he’s a bad influence.

It’s at least warmer here though. That wolf built the walls nice and strong, so none of the storms outside can get in. It makes a change from home. Dragonstone was so cold and empty. I miss it because it’s home, but I still hope that Storm’s End will be a nicer one.

Storm’s End, it sounds so fierce but… safe at the same time. Storm's End, where all your troubles will melt away. I wish that would start happening soon. During these last three years, my life just seems to be getting worse and worse.

After Father set sail from Dragonstone, nothing’s worked out for him. He tried to take King’s Landing but those treacherous Lannisters married that Tyrell girl, and together their armies made short work of his. Then father went north to save Westeros from the Wildlings at the Wall, while Ser Davos gathered a new army for us in the Stormlands. Then father came back from the North, with thanks from the new Lord Commander. I know my father, and I bet he was hoping for more than just words from them.

Just as things seemed to getting better, everything began to get worse again. A giant Tyrell army landed on Dragonstone, and began to try and take it. Father’s army was beaten and the Tyrells almost got us along with the island, but, thank the Seven, Ser Davos smuggled us out in time.

Melisandre would burn this whole book and probably me too if she saw what I just wrote. The truth is I don’t know what to believe and sometimes I feel like I’m the rope in a big, holy tug-of-war match. I know it sounds silly, but whether it's the gods or a God seems to mean much to everyone else.

My father probably thought the war was over, but then we got lucky. A strange banker from Bravos came to Storm’s End and made my father a deal: you pay us back, and we’ll get you your Iron Throne. So Davos set sail again and came back with an enormous army of mercenaries. He was just in time to watch father make candles of the rebel septons who tried to kill him. I think the whole thing was sick and horrible. Of all the things about the Lord of Light, it’s the burning I hate the most. Lucky for me, I wasn’t forced to watch.

So father set out again, and this time it was even worse. Father was taken prisoner, and brought before the so-called king. That horrible spoiled lion king was going to torture him, but my father demanded a Trial by Combat. Some say I should thank Ser Loras for stepping in so my father wouldn’t have to face Trial by Fire instead. I don’t say anything, but I know in my heart that queens never thank kingslayers.


 
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Chapter 2-Shireen Baratheon

8th Moon, Day 23, Year 302 AL

Dear Marianne,



Today, Melisandre made me come sit on the big chair that father used when he was holding his audiences. If it had been some ordinary maid, I would have thrown a temper. It’s a lovely day outside and the last thing I want to do is sit around all day repeating all the things she tells me to say. She's always whispering from behind that giant gold curtain she had put in behind the chair. But Melisandre is not the sort of woman you want to disobey.

I put on my best smile instead and I almost convinced myself that there was nothing I would rather do than listen to some peasant complain about the cold weather. My serving girl picked out my prettiest dress to wear, a beautiful gown of cloth-of-gold, embroidered with a stag in black pearl. The whole thing had a Myrish lace border. When I’m clothed in things this fine and my face is powdered, I can almost imagine myself queen.

As I came in, I saw that Mother was sitting on a smaller chair beside mine. I hope that she begins to feel better soon. All she can seem to do is sit near the window where Father’s room used to be and stare out at the sea. She doesn’t yell at me or avoid me anymore. She just sits there, in her own world.

I had to sit on the uncomfortable chair a long time before something happened. A man in a dusty brown cloak came into the room. Melisandre said he was to be my new teacher to replace Maester Cressen. I said a few words of thanks that Melisandre whispered to me from behind the curtain after Mother criticized him for being late. I may not be an expert in Maesters, but I think Maester Cressen was a thousand times better. At least this new one seems nice.


Then Uncle Erren came in. It had been ages since I’d seen him. I remembered how he’d led the defense of Dragonstone. Loyal enough I suppose, but I’d never been close to him. He had come for land and I was just about to raise my voice to give him Fawnton, that nice new bit of land that Father had gotten when some dusty old maid died, when Melisandre whispered something else.

I followed her advice, and told him to wait around the court a bit instead. I think she doesn’t like him because he doesn’t believe in R'hllor, but I kept my mouth shut. In the stories, a wise queen always listens to her councilors. Then again, life isn’t a story. Uncle Erren didn't like that very much, and stormed out of the room.

I had to wait on the chair for what seemed like an age. I was beginning to fidget when Mother gave me a warning look. It made me smile. If she cares about being my mother again, maybe she’ll stop being so strange.

Then I got a really nice surprise. It was Ser Davos! I wanted to run to him and give him a hug, but Mother got that warning look she gets when I’m about to do something stupid so I remembered to stay put. After I finished the words Melisandre told me to say, Ser Davos told me some more good news. He said he wanted his son Devan to come study here.

Devan is going to be my lord husband when I'm old enough to marry. Father gave my hand to him for the loyalty Ser Davos never failed to show. He seems like a good boy and he squired for my father during the war, but I worry sometimes that he won’t love me because of my face. I try to wear makeup to cover it, but it never seems to be enough.

Ser Godry is one of my father’s only truly loyal banner-men. His family, the Farrings, stayed loyal to Father to the end and the beastly lions took the late lord Farring's lands and head for it. He is a great and noble knight, though he favours R'hllor over the older gods. That's why Devan is going to squire for him now.

The rest of the day was the merriest I’ve had in quite some time. Ser Davos entertained me with stories of his days as a smuggler, and a traveling minstrel came in and played a jolly song. I say happiness in the faces of everyone at court for perhaps the first time. I went to bed praying to all the gods that this happiness would last forever.
 
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Patukov

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You killed Stannis! You bastard! XD

On a more serious note, I'm curious to see how you plan to place the rightful queen on the throne
 

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Shireen in charge? This should be great. With Renly dead she's the best Baratheon left.

You killed Stannis! You bastard! XD

On a more serious note, I'm curious to see how you plan to place the rightful queen on the throne
The rightful Queen? Why would Shireen be trying to put Daenerys on the throne? :p
 
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Oh, you're playing as Shireen? That's surprising. Good luck, I'd love to see her win the throne. Poor Stannis though... How are things in the rest of Westeros?
 

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As a decent person in Westeros, Shireen is obviously doomed to die in heartbreaking fashion.
 
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Chapter 3-Selyse Florent

Lady Selyse Florent stood in front of a great glass mirror. She worked dexterously, plucking hair after hair from her wisp of mustache that seemed to grow anew with the dawn. My trial, my curse…

Selyse put away her tweezers and returned to her great balcony that overlooked the raging sea below the fortress. In the tumult of nature, Selyse found a refuge from darker thoughts. Her mind turned to something she had once heard an old peasant woman say, that the most unfortunate creature in all the world is an ugly woman. She knew this to be false. Only a woman spared from my Lord’s holy light is unfortunate.

A searing pain shot through Selyse's lower abdomen. A lesser woman would have bent to her knees, but Selyse stood firm. She knew that all have their trials. She had suffered through miscarriage after miscarriage, siege and storm. The Lord of Light is at my side, there is no misfortune I cannot bear.

Another spasm of pain almost sent Selyse reeling, but she kept control of herself and stumbled onto her bed. She called out for a servant girl to fetch Maester Ronnet for some milk of the poppy. The girl rushed off, and Selyse nestled into her bed covers, seeking escape from the pain.

After what felt like an age, the Maester slumped into the room, carrying a small glass vial containing the requested liquid. Selyse cried out, stern and reprimanding, “What is the cause of this delay, Maester?”

“Forgive me my lady, I was tending to the late king’s bastard, Edric Storm. The Red Priestess said he had fallen ill and needed a leaching,” said Ronnet, hastening to give the bottle to Selyse.


Selyse’s lips pursed into a frown that could curdle milk. She dismissed the Maester curtly. He hurried out, tripping over the hem of his brown robes as he did so. Selyse downed the liquid and the pain died down, but continued to throb in an annoying sort of way. She brooded in solitude, thinking of the accursed bastard who had brought shame to her marriage and ruin to her progeny. The defeat of Stannis, the infection of her daughter, her present affliction, all could be traced directly to that first shame.

Lost in thought, Selyse almost did not notice the red priestess. As every bit as elegant and dangerous as the open flame, the Lady Regent Melisandre glided into the room. A robe of crimson framed her almost supernatural beauty. That’s how I’d imagined myself grown when I was but a girl. If I had realized then what I would become, I would have cried bitter tears.

Selyse rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stood and faced her visitor. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit?” she said.

Melisandre surveyed her coldly. “I have come to address an issue displeasing to the eyes of R’hllor, our Lord.”

“Whatever service I can offer is at your disposal. You know that I am a faithful servant to the Lord of Light.”

A pause. Melisandre gave her a glare reminiscent of a fox hunting a particularly vexing rabbit. “Perhaps this was once true. However, you will find making a cuckold of His Chosen Champion Reborn wins you few favours in R’hllor’s eyes.”

Selyse reached out for words to deny the accusation but found her mouth empty. She tried to collect herself, failed, and stammered, “He...he forced himself on me. I…..I had no choice! He would have killed me!”

“Then you should have died,” came Melisandre’s reply, swift and brutal. “Azor Ahai’s wife gave up her life to save the world, and yet you shame the memory of your husband by sleeping with your brother!”

Selyse felt herself collapsing. She had not allowed herself to cry for Shireen’s sake at Stannis’ funeral, but now the tears flowed from her eyes. She found herself falling forward, no longer having the will to stand.

Melisandre caught the woman and sat her down gently on the bed. She stroked Selyse's hair and whispered, “Calm yourself. We all know the true villain is your brother Imry. You and he are being punished with the same illness for your transgressions. Although you have sinned, you may still find redemption in His guiding light.” Selyse did not hear the words, but slowly calmed down. He was my husband. He was my icon. He was my god. And I betrayed him. God forgive me.

Before leaving the room, Melisandre picked a small vial from out of the folds of her robe. “One king is killed by blade. One is killed by shadow. Another soon to be killed by folly. But why should only false kings suffer for their treachery? False subjects are just as unpleasing to the Lord of Light.” Melisandre picked a leech from the jar distastefully and threw it into the fire.
 
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Selyse slept with her brother!? Wow, Stannis can't catch a break, even from the grave.
 

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Chapter 4- Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion looked out of the poleboat, which swayed gently in the Trident’s waters. He remembered the last time he had crossed the river, on his way back from the defeat at the Whispering Woods. The Red Fork was a muddy brown and slow then, lazy as a summer afternoon. He remembered how green the Riverlands had been, as vivid and picturesque as a watercolour. Since the war, the land had changed. The trees colour had altered, and instead of green, leaves of gold, brown, and red flanked the river's edge. The river itself, no longer even murky, was almost clotted with blood and bodies. The scenery was equally as grim; a blackened landscape of broken houses, empty fields and burned crops. A poor reward for saving a city, but a reward none the less…

“Bronn,” he called out, “remind me never to start a war.”

Bronn smirked from where he lounged in the shade of the trees. “But then I’d be out of a job,” he complained.

Tyrion chuckled, “Oh,there’s never a lack of men needing a sharp blade and a quick wit.”

“Such as yourself. Well at least I’m better for that than all those puffed-up ninnies with their sers.”

Tyrion looked up to the river again, seeing the same sordid sight for miles around. Out of the capital at last. Thoughts of the cursed place which he had tried so hard to banish flooded back to him. They wormed into his brain like an almost forgotten night terror until he could think of nothing else. I might indeed have to start a war, just to wrest the crown from my idiot of a nephew. Tyrion almost regretted beating Stannis, until he remembered that Stannis would've been the last one to forgive his foes. In fact, good King Stannis the Just would never be content to let even the smallest traitor slip away with their head still attached.

However, that didn’t stop Joffrey from being a king whose evil could only be dreamt of in the lurid nightmares of singers. Joffrey had always been adamant that every traitor would lose their head. Tyrion had thought it naught but a foolish boyhood boast, but true to his word, there had been no mercy. Robb Stark, Edmure Tully, these were only some of the names dear King Joffrey had added to the ever growing numbers of the dead.

Desperation created a sort of bravery in men, and some still fought on, in the name of this king or that. Lord Maric of Masey’s Hook, Lord Clayton of Woodmere, Lord Jaremy of the Chytering Brook, and Ser John of New Barrel, dead men all. They fought for no cause now. What they were really fighting for were their heads.

Joffrey had done worse yet, seizing the North as well as the Riverlands for the crown. Balon Greyjoy was still at large, his Ironborn plundering the west coast. Everywhere the lords and smallfolk cursed His Grace's name. When I said Aeyrs the Third, I never knew how true I spoke. For while King Scab had taken years to provoke the lords to rebellion, Joffrey had turned the lords against him in just one year.

Yet there was still more. Joffrey had offended the Iron Bank by refusing to pay back any of the massive debt his father had accrued. The Iron Bank backed Stannis in the twilight years of the war, and had called in debt after debt when that failed, giving every merchant across the land another reason to curse his name. There were rumors that even now the Iron Bank searched for a champion, anyone to collect their dues.

But even worse were the rumors of murder. Mace Tyrell, the lord oaf of Highgarden, was found suddenly dead in his quarters. Some say illness took him, but the speed of the affliction made Tyrion cautious. The new lord of the Reach seemed competent enough, and supported the king in his wars, but was as of yet unfamiliar with his vassals.


Then there was the matter of the new princess. By all rights, the throne's heir should be Prince Tommon, but Joffrey insisted that it fall to his newborn babe of a daughter. Yet another controversy. Gods be good, I’ve left just in time.

Tyrion grabbed the parchment, and read it to himself once again, just to reassure himself it still existed and wasn’t some flight of fancy constructed by his imagination.

By Order of His Grace, King Joffrey, First of his name,
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,
and Protector of the Realm

I hereby appoint my uncle, Tyrion of House Lannister, to the titles of Lord of Riverrun, and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. May he reign long and loyally. If he proves loyal and true, let the titles pass to his rightful descendants. All the lords of the Riverlands, if they be true to the crown, will swear an oath of fealty and recognize their new lord.




It must have been the work of his father. Once more he had a task for him, to go tame the Riverlands for the glory of House Lannister. How Lord Baelish must have fumed. What I would have given to see his face.

The castle of Riverrun came into view, as the river swerved away from the carnage upstream. Its tall sandstone walls jutted straight out of the water. It’s no Casterly Rock, but it will serve.

Tyrion sat. He felt ill from the long boat trip and looked forward to land. And yet with a grim sort of anticipation, he willed the boat forward. I may be little Father, but you'll find I have a long memory. These days of playing the loyal son? They are numbered.
 
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TheAnguishedOne

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Robb is dead? Can't say that's too surprising, though it makes me wonder who rules the North now. Joffrey turned out absurdly awful, which also isn't surprising. How did Tommen turn out?

Willas ruling the Reach could be good for you. Are you able to use R'hllor magic during a regency? I personally like healing him in hopes that he'll convert to the Red God, making the Reich a potential ally.

Lord Paramount Tyrion of the Riverlands... now that is surprising. I'm torn between hoping he does well, because I like him, and hoping he fails, as it would help you. Overall, this was a nice update seeing what's going on throughout Westeros. Now we just need to see about the Starks, Dany, Dorne, and the Kingslayer.
 

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Love Shireen, hope to see her, with Davos' son at her side, grow strong and prosper.

Did Sansa Stark end up married to Joffrey or to Tyrion, or did she escape the Lannisters all together?
 

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Worse yet, shoved off on some hedge knight.
Well, there are some decent fellows among hedge knights. The AI never seems to marry her off well when Joffrey puts her aside.

Tyrion might do well in the Riverlands, it calls for quick thinking and deft diplomacy. Who is his wife?
 

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Chapter 5- Shireen Baratheon

1st Moon, Day 3, Year 303 AL

Dear Marianne,

Two days past was my name day. The celebration was wonderful. A singer from Oldtown came and filled the castle with song. Lords and ladies came from across the Stormlands to see me, although some didn’t look very happy about it. Marrance Rambton (I think that was his name) and three of his cronies were skulking in the shadows whispering about something. Ser Harlon was doing that too, until Melisandre took him away to speak to her alone. He came out shaking afterwards.

Sometimes, I worry that Devan loves me not. He is perfectly civil, but sometimes he just stares at my face until I turn my head so he can’t see the Grayscale. He’s a wonderful boy, and he’s going to be a great knight one day, but I still wish he did less staring and more talking. What am I doing, ruining the memory of a wonderful feast and name day? I must not let myself think any more dark thoughts.

The day after, Melisandre made me sit at the council meeting. I just wanted to finish The Lives of Four Kings by Grand Maester Kaeth. When I’m reading it, I can almost picture Daeron The Young Dragon lifting me up on to his silver stallion and making me his queen. Then there’s all the scandalous tales of Aegon IV and his many mistresses, and the pure Dragonknight's brave deeds of chivalry. But Melisandre says now that I’ve reached my 14th name day, I have to sit with the council more often.

The council was already there when I came in. Someone kindly put a cushion on my chair. That let me see eye to eye with everyone else sitting there.

There was someone new at the council room today. Ser Harlan held a pitcher, while Melisandre lounged at the table. I remember every time anyone at the council asked for more wine, he would serve it nervously as if he were a squire. When I asked what he was doing there, Melisandre patted him on the back and told me he was doing penance for all his years worshiping false gods and scheming. Ser Harlan looked as if he’d been touched by a ghost.


Ser Axell, my grandfather, worked as Castellan to my father and now he serves me. Melisandre, my mother, and he all work together to rule until I come of age. He works hard surveying Storm’s End, but he seldom talks to me. Today he had some very bad news. The lord of Wendwater, whose name I forgot, has started plotting to give the Stormlands to the horrid lion on the throne! He says even a mad king is better than a ugly little girl.



Ser Davos assured me that he would never be disloyal to his friend’s daughter, and future daughter-in-law. Lord Pennylover said that he would never bite the hand that feeds, or in this case pays. The whole council had a laugh at that. As master of coin, Lord Pennylover has many opportunities to earn his name, and keeps the treasury nice and full.


Then Ser Foxglove came in with another guest, Lord Rambton. Even now I could see the hatred in his eyes. Melisandre bid him sit down, and then two guards came into the room. Melisandre’s voice became dangerous. Thanks to the spies of Lord Foxglove, and the power of the flames, Melisandre had learned of Rambton's plot. He had wanted to steal the regency from her, and after the deed was done, chop off my head and give it to Joffrey along with the Stormlands.

Lord Rambton somehow managed to get past the guards, and fled. Lord Godry Farring demanded justice. He proposed raising more men to defend the castle and Ser Foxglove swore to keep his spies ever more vigilant. Lord Godry had been raised to Lord of Lambton and High Lord of Summerfield, a title Melisandre created and given to him for his loyalty. He is one of my most true bannermen.

Ser Davos had more to say. He said that this rebelliousness among the lords was due to the fact that I was not married. He urged me to marry his son, and the alliance forged would keep the peace. I saw no other option, so I agreed to his request. We are to be married within a fortnight.

After that, the council meeting ended. Mother asked me stiffly if I was fine. I lied and told her what she wanted to hear. She has enough on her plate as it is. What with traitors and schemers within the keep, a future husband who may not even love me, and the challenge of the Lord of Wendwater, my life seems to falling into shadow.
 
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TheAnguishedOne

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Well, another year closer to no more regency. Hopefully the marriage makes Shireen's vassals less traitor-prone. Nice to see Melisandre doing what she can to help Stannis' daughter. She needs the little girl to live up to being Azor Ahai.
 

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Chapter 6-Daenerys Targaryen


Daenerys sat at her desk, searching her mind for the right phrase. Too elegant and I risk losing the people, too coarse and no one will listen. She knew there were some nobles in Westeros who thought learning pointless. Just as there were some who still thought dragons dead and magic the stuff of mummers’ tales. Fools, I will show them all the error of their ways.

Daenerys looked out the window idly. Illyrio’s expansive manse was tall and commanded an impressive view. Daenerys could see the small ivy garden, and a larger one of fresh green grass. Both were watered by the “indentured servants” twice a week. A fountain depicting a Braavosi water dancer was surrounded by six cherry trees; the centrepiece of the large garden. Beyond that was the city, orange and vibrant, loud and cosmopolitan, tight and crowded. The exotic smells of Pentoshi cheeses wafted up from the nearby marketplace.

Daenerys’ thoughts turned to the past. She had been supposed to arrive in the manse two years prior. However, the desire to avoid begging had drove her to seek an army in the flesh pits of Astapor. There she grew disgusted with the vile practice of slavery, and inspired a revolt against the evil Good Masters. Then she rode to Yunkai with an army at her back, and there too she crushed the slavers. Yet in the end it was Meeren, first and greatest of the slave cities, that had vanquished her army. New slavers soon took control in the cities she had liberated and all the fighting and bloodshed had been for nothing.

She had fled in despair to Illyrio, her only refuge that she knew of. He took her in, but soon she began to see that she was nothing but Viserys with tits to him, a pretty doll to drag out for parties and celebrations. So she strived to learn and know, reading all there was to read in Illyrio’s library. Law, history, story, and song, all this she devoured hungrily. At last, a loyalist from the far east delivered a book to her, a book written in High Valyrian detailing the process of training dragons.



For months, she occupied her ample free time with the taming of Drogon and her other dragons, who lived in a small cave outside of Pentos. She visited as regularly as she could, and after a year of training she felt confident enough to try flight. The rest of her spare time was spent organizing a small abolitionist movement. Many prominent noblemen from Braavos had given donations to her cause. They said they were inspired by her pamphlets, but Daenerys knew that some had other motives.

A knock at the door awakened her from her reverie. “Khaleesi, may I come in?” called Jhiqui.

Daenerys collected her thoughts then replied, “You may. What is it exactly you desire?”

Jhiqui came into the room, followed by Irri. “Your presence is asked for by Illyrio, Khaleesi. He wishes to sup with you tonight.”

Daenerys noted a small sandalwood box in Irri’s arms. “What is that she carries?”

Jhiqui took the box from Irri and set it down. She opened it and removed a silken dress. It was a pale lilac colour and seemed almost translucent. It came with a necklace of pearl and Daenerys’ crown from Qarth. “This is Illyrio’s gift to you, Khaleesi. He wishes you to wear it tonight.”

Daenerys was tempted by boredom and neglect to reject the gift, but soon thought better of it. She sighed, “I will wear this gift of his.”

The two handmaidens began to dress her. Daenerys felt the soft touch of the silk as it slid over her body. Jhiqui began to adjust the necklace. “Khaleesi, there is an old saying. A man who is greedy with his food, is greedy with all else.”

“It is known,” added Irri.

Daenerys laughed softly, “Don’t worry. I do not need to fear the likes of Illyrio Mopatis.” The handmaidens bowed their heads in agreement.

They were finished and produced a dragonglass mirror so she could admire their handiwork. “Not bad, now let us see if you can do half so well painting my face.”

Jhiqui laughed. “There are none more skilled than I at this art, Khaleesi.”

“It is known,” said Irri.



Magister Illyrio took another large bite from his roast pig. The juices ran down his mouth, and he summoned a servant to clear it off him with a handkerchief. Daenerys could only peck at her meal. She had appetite for only one thing now. “I thank you for your gifts Magister, but what I need are ships and swords. I have lived in this manse for well on two years now, and every day the chance grows that one of The Usurper’s dogs will find me.”

The servant cleaned the sauce off of his master's mouth. Illyrio took another hearty bite of his pig before answering. “Do not fear, your Grace. The dogs are busy fighting far at the end of the narrow sea, too blind to see the dragon growing in their wake.”

Daenerys looked at him, annoyed. “But you too are at war, wasting men on the Tyroshi.”

Illyrio waved to a servant, who spooned more steaming sauce onto his pig. Another filled his cup with more wine. He smacked his lips and helped himself to both. “Your Grace, ever since Tyrosh has been attacked by an alliance between Prince Doran and Lys, an opportunity existed to take control on even more of their trade. The wealth the conflict will bring can let us hire thousands of sellswords to win your crown.”

“The question is when, Illyrio? How much longer will my subjects have to go without their rightful queen?”

“When the war with Tyrosh ends, and all the pawns are in place, you shall have your crown. Do not fear, my queen. Fire and blood shall soon come to traitor’s shores.”
 
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So Dany's war against slavery ended up doing nothing but a change in who enslaved people. Truly, she's such a wonderful queen... I love how her defeat hasn't humbled her at all. Sure, she tried to change the way the entire continent works and failed miserably, but can totally unite Westeros.
 
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Twighlight Array 17

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Chapter 7-Shireen Baratheon

1st Moon, Day 16, Year 303 AL

Dear Marianne,

The castle has been filled with servants rushing here and there, adjusting this and that. Even though not many of the lords who were invited have decided to come, House Seaworth is still a big family, and Mother and I did our best to make them all feel at home. Sometimes I hear Mother gossiping with her lady’s maid that the Seaworths aren’t worth all the expense as they’re only small lords. I don’t say anything, but I know Father would not have talked that way about any of his subjects. Their talents and loyalty, not their birth, is what mattered to him.

Lately, Mother is more reserved. Although she gossips with her maid, she doesn’t talk to anyone else normally, and always seems to be following Melisandre around or praying in the fire temple. I also noticed she seems to be avoiding Uncle Imry. I hope they haven’t had a falling out. The last thing this castle needs is more long faces.


I once heard that when that Joffrey wed the Tyrell girl, there was a dinner with fifty courses and an enormous pigeon pie. Although we have plenty of gold from the Iron Bank’s donation, Melisandre still advised against too much spending. Instead of fifty courses, there are to be five, and the pigeon pie no doubt smaller too. I should not grumble. Life may soon become much harder, for they say that winter is coming.

Still, as I wander around the halls with my copy of Famous Songs of the Reach, a Collection by Maester Cronnar, I am very impressed by the fruits of my labour. After two long weeks of effort with mother and Lady Melisandre, pouring over guest lists and seating plans, inspecting the food, and arranging the decorations, I’m thoroughly exhausted. It’s heartening to know that all our efforts paid off, if only for a few visitors.

In other news, the false king is winning more of his wars against the rebel lords. The Fossoways in the Reach fought with my father, and had continued to fight on for their lives. With all the forces of the king against them, it wasn’t long before New Barrel fell to the king's forces. He killed the men and married all the women to small lords and squires. He gave New Barrel to Lord Willas Tyrell. It seems strange to me that such a nice man could put up with a king like him. Then again, maybe he stays loyal for his sister’s sake.

Anyhow, I should get to bed. Although I am worried, Mother often tells me that a lady must never let her worries show except to her husband. I suppose I’m lucky that I’m getting one tomorrow. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep these worries to myself.
. . .

1st Moon, Day 17, Year 303 AL

Dear Marianne,

I know I don’t often write to you in such a short period of time, but events have been so dramatic that I really couldn’t wait a day. It was bound to be a day of import, being the day I marry. It’s the day that every girl across the Seven Kingdoms yearns for and fears in equal measure. Never could I have imagined that the day would turn out like this.

It seems strange to recall, but the day started well enough. I hadn’t seen Devan of course since my name day, as seeing the bridegroom the night before the wedding brings ill luck. Truth be told, it seems a silly superstition, but given all the things I've seen Melisandre do on Dragonstone, a little caution about such things isn’t a bad thing. Besides, if I saw him, he might run away in fright. Such were my foolish thoughts at the time.

After they discovered I was awake, I endured three hours of preparation at the hands of my maids. They scrubbed, brushed, dressed, powdered, perfumed, and finally painted my face. I looked at myself in the mirror, and remember it being the only time I felt truly beautiful. The Grayscale hardly showed, and the gown was stunning.

I remember walking down the halls, with my maids holding the train of the dress behind me as I walked. Delicious smells were coming up from the kitchen, but I barely noticed as I was so excited. I was guided down to the entrance of the new fire temple, where Melisandre insisted the service be held. A babble of voices came from there, and I waited with baited breath for the main event.



After a while, Devan was there with me. House Seaworth is not the wealthiest of houses, but I thought he looked dashing in his simple doublet. The cloak bearing the black stag on a golden background was heavy on my back. Music had began to play, quiet at first but increasingly loud. I had been nervous, and Devan had graciously taken my hand. He nodded, and two servants on the side opened the doors to the temple.

I confess, I almost didn’t make it to the alter. Were it not for Devan holding my hand firmly, and the small crowd, I would’ve surely run back to my room, and they would’ve had to call the whole thing off.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur for me. Melisandre had stood in front of a great fire in place of an alter. We said our vows, fortunately I remembered all of them, and then my Baratheon cloak was removed. Ser Axell, my great-uncle, took the place of my father. Devan then removed his cloak, a Seaworth-Baratheon mixture, and wrapped it around me. More vows were said and then Devan kissed me.

When someone longs for love their entire life, there is naught that words can do to describe the sensation. I will say only that it was the first time anyone had ever kissed me in that location, and leave it at that.

After that, the day moved at a fast pace. Dancing, entertainment, and general revelry ruled the day. I spent most of it around Mother and Devan, who I tried to make small talk with. He was gentle and sweet, and very receptive. Gradually my worries seemed to be fading away. Then, in the middle of the feast, it happened.

Melisandre burst in, surrounded by men-at-arms. Ser Foxglove was not far behind, biting his nails and glancing rapidly around the room. Finally, several other guards thrust a chained man forward. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was my uncle, Imry Florent!

The festive noise quieted down at once. Ser Axell demanded to know why his nephew was locked up. Whispers broke out amongst the guests and members of my household. I didn’t know what to think. I looked to mother, who took a deep breath, balled her fists and slowly turned to Imry.

Melisandre then spoke, and at once there was quiet. She announced that a certain Lord Ralph of Wendwater (I finally remembered his name!) had declared his intentions to depose the rightful Lady-Paramount in favour of the king himself. He and a coven of other enemies of the Lord of Light had gotten together together and declared rebellion to achieve this goal. They had declared themselves the Lords Valorous, and had already begun to terrorize the loyalist countryside.

Yet even worse was the treachery within the castle. Melisandre claimed to have seen visions of Imry's sins in the flames, and soon learned he had begun a new treachery. Ser Foxglove attested that his 'little foxes' had seen my uncle sneaking in and out of my mother's apartments.

Ser Erren Florent, his brother, declared it nonsense and demanded he be let free. But Melisandre then turned to mother, and gave her a forceful stare. Mother then spoke, in a quiet, small voice so different from her usual forceful one. She said that he had forced himself on her, so greatly did he desire her that he raped her the very day his king was put into the ground. Ever since then, he had continued his assaults, threatening to tell the court if she refused him and ruin her reputation forever. At the end of the story, mother shuddered and suddenly began to cry. I ran at once to hug her, and she never pulled away.

I am told Ser Davos asked for a trial. I am told Ser Erren denounced Melisandre as a witch. I am told Ser Axell said nothing, but glared in anger at Imry. But I could think of nothing but how, in a life of sadness, my mother would be hurt forever. How my father had his memory and his marriage shamed every day by this man who was supposed to be of my family. A man who betrayed my father the first chance he got.

Melisandre's voice rose above all others. She called for the punishment all who disgrace the Lord of Light earn. The fate of all who side with the Cold One. Fire.


Ser Davos, anger in his voice, spoke out for a trial. He said he hated this man as much as any here, but until there was proof there should be no conviction. Melisandre ignored the protests of the other lords and glided over to where my mother lay, crying silent tears. She laid a hand on my shoulder. The room then fell silent. I knew that they were waiting for my command.

My father was a just man. He followed every law and for it earned mens’ hatred. He was fair and as a result died at a twice-turned traitor's hand. A bastard king sat above him, laughing at his fate. I loved my father, but I am not him.

Gods save me. I nodded to Melisandre.

The burning took place outside the castle. It was night then, and the guests gathered in a circle round the pyre. I stood there too, flanked by mother and Devan. Melisandre said a prayer for Imry’s sinful soul, and lit the pyre.

I couldn’t watch the burning. I looked at Devan’s face instead. He was smiling, a grim, zealous smile. Mother’s face was a mask, but I saw a single tear fall from her eye.

It didn't take long for the fire to consume him.

The celebration continued after that, but the festive mood had died out completely, replaced with a hollow grimness. Eventually, I was lead up the stairs to my father’s old room, as people pulled off my garments and made feeble half-hearted jests. Devan was stripped as well, and from his face, I could tell that he was as nervous as I.



The night was…..well, you will think me impolite if I describe it in detail Marianne. Suffice to say that it was wonderful in many, many ways. But when he and I were finally tired out, I dreamed of my uncle. His flesh was melting off before my eyes, and his last dying screams rung out from all sides. I woke up in a cold sweat.
 
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Such an eventful wedding! An execution, a rebellion, and the uniting of two houses. Hopefully Shireen can find happiness in her marriage... right after beating the revolt and eventually dethroning the Lannisters.
 

Twighlight Array 17

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Chapter 8- Jaime Lannister

The small host was marching on the Kingsroad, and once again Jaime Lannister was at its head. He rode a marvelous destrier, a fine beast has father had purchased for 100 dragons not three weeks past. His armour, new and clean, had not yet tasted battle. In his hands, he bore a new sword, forged from the remains of the Stark’s greatest treasure, Ice. Its name, in a cruel twist of fate, was Oathkeeper. It's a pretty blade, granted, but Father misliked my answer to his “request” to leave my white cloak behind.

Indeed, Lord Tywin had been so wroth that he’d sent his eldest son to this shithole of a keep, to put down the last dregs of rebellion that still held out for Gods know which king. The Chytterings were not the strongest of the lords yet to wake up, but their castle of Chytterring Brook was blocking supplies sorely needed in King’s Landing. So it’s up to me to assure some poxy peasant pays one less copper for their bread.

He remembered traveling past the hold in King Robert’s day, past woods and orchards and neatly tended farms. Now all that remained were blackened, abandoned ruins of houses and barren fields. The leaves had begun to turn, adding some colour to the scene. Hopeless, suspicious eyes peered from behind trees. Robbers most like. The world has changed much while you rotted in the wolf boy’s cell for three years.

Much had changed, but his sister had remained the same. Same golden locks, same brilliant green eyes, same supple bosom, and same old pride and ambition. Much of her power was gone from her days as regent, but the king still leant her his ear when it suited his fancy. Aye, as my son does everything. Still, Cersei longed for more, and made no secret of her desire for the eunuch's position. My sweet sister, still fresh and beautiful as ever as I rotted in a cell.

Tywin had tried to marry her off of course, and Jaime was still unsure how she had evaded the marital bed this long. The daughter of the Hand of the King was a worthy catch for any lord, but at some point in the engagement, each of his sweet sister’s husbands-to-be suddenly found some reason to back out of the engagement. Some had even disappeared.

Their father had soon found a punishment. He took her precious daughter away from her to study in the Riverlands with Tyrion. What Cersei was like the day she was told is something I’m glad I missed. Jaime had seen Myrcella briefly before setting off on this pointless exercise. By all accounts, she was a sweet smart girl whose generosity earned the love of even the riverfolk, who had every reason and more to despise Lannisters.

With Myrcella in Riverrun, and Joffrey occupied with his “kingly duties”, Cersei lavished all her love and care on her youngest child, the only one who remained truly hers. The two had grown close, and Tommen seldom went anywhere without his mother and kittens. He was still the kind young lad Jaime remembered, but there was something of his mother in him too. So strange, to have my children so close and yet so far.

Joffrey scorned the company of both his siblings, occupying himself instead with "kingly duties" which apparently included harassing Tyrion. When he heard that Tyrion had refused to marry Sansa Stark, he had “graciously” given him one of his girls, who had once been a pig farmer's daughter. He had declared that only one of small birth was worthy of one so small. He had staged a mummer’s farce of a wedding for the court’s delight. Still, Tyrion has not been ashamed by his wife. He treated her kindly, and soon won her tolerance, if not her love. She was a shy, sweet thing, though plump. They soon had a baby boy, who the king demanded be named after himself. He only wished that he felt the same confidence in his sister that Tyrion had for his wife.

Sometimes he worried that something had happened with his sister while he had been locked in a dungeon. She had welcomed him...enthusiastically enough, but still he heard the occasional rumor. Rumors whispering of cousins and bed-warmers. He was not one to pay much heed to foolish gossip, but still the thing gnawed at the back of his mind, giving him no peace.

He arrived at the siege of the Chyttering Brook. A new bridge had been constructed over this section of the Blackwater Rush, wide enough for three men to cross at a time. He led his 700 men over the contraption, which swayed unsteadily. The waters are rising and this makeshift thing won’t last much longer.

He came to the siege camp. 2 000 tired men sat around the walls of the fort. They were sharpening their weapons, and making small talk. Jaime rode on past the men at the walls, and motioned to a man behind him. He held a white flag aloft.

A scuffle from the walls above, then a round faced man peered out from over the fortifications. “Who goes there?” he bellowed.

Jaime rode to the front. “Jaime Lannister, otherwise known as the man who's going to try to save your worthless head. Now let us in and we'll get this sorry affair over with.”

“The Kingslayer? What makes you think that I’d trust a deal with a man like you, a man with shit for honour?”

Jaime sighed. Even the most doomed small lords spit on me now. “Open up, and we’ll return three of your worthless men we caught trying to escape.” A man had ran to give him this handy bit of information earlier that morning.

The man paused. “Very well, bring them in.” The portcullis slowly creaked open. The chained captives were prodded into the hold, and were soon unshackled. The man motioned to a servant. “Go wake my lord father from his sleep, and tell him that the lions have come to parley.” He turned back to Jaime. “Well, I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Lucos Chyttering, heir to this place.”

“Never heard of you.”

“I wish I could say the same of you, Kingslayer. Your misdeeds precede you, I’m afraid.”

“I have heard it said that to insult one the greatest knights in the realm and… uncle to the king himself is foolish.”

“There were those who said that King Stannis would never rule. They were wrong.”

“Stannis is dead, boy. Open your eyes. Only three lords stand against the might of the Iron Throne.”

“His Grace was king, more truly than that idiot on the throne ever was. He saved the realm from wildlings, and judged all justly.”

“You’d not be so apt to sing his praises if you'd spent a minute alone with him, grinding his teeth away.”

Ser Lucos looked ready to respond, but out of the fort trudged another figure. He was an old man, with an uncomely face. He was balding, and his worn doublet was stained with wine. He raised his hand lazily and waved it about. Ser Lucos stopped speaking, although clearly he wished to say more.

“Calm yourself, my son. Might I introduce myself? I am Lord Jaremy of House Chyttering. You are welcome here Lord Jaime, though I have not the wealth to provide for you. Hem.” He coughed, sending spittle flying from his mouth. “Take your host away though, I have not wine enough for all of them.”

“Gladly, if you would kindly follow me to King’s Landing. I’m sure we can find you a nice room that is adequately stocked for your needs,” said Jaime.

“Truly? I hope you can forget this foolish exercise of my son’s. He is a young man, and prone to this foolish sort of thing. Hem. I don’t know why I let him talk me into it.”

“That bastard was going to stick your head off, and his tax collectors took almost all the wheat our peasants had left! We must fight on!” Ser Lucos had worked himself into a temper, and his fat face was growing red with rage.

“See what I mean? Full of all these strange ideas. As if fighting would be of any good for our peasants. Hem. The grain is gone, the castle is surrounded, and we’re running low on wine. I will surrender on two conditions.”

“A wise man. What are they?”

“A proclamation approved by the king’s seal of my house’s safety from the axe. Hem. And also, a vow from you, on your honour as a Lannister, that no harm will befall me in King’s Landing.”

“I believe this will serve.”

Jaime signaled for his servant, who brought him the rolled-up parchment. He handed to the paper to Lord Jaremy, who nodded excitedly. “This will do nicely. Hem. Now the vow. The vow!”

Ser Lucos exploded, “Father, you can’t seriously mean to trust the word of the Kingslayer? What does he know of honour?”

“Silence, you softheaded fool! He’s a knight of the Kingsguard, and he is to be trusted. I am still lord here and what I say goes.”
upload_2016-4-27_22-23-50.png

Jaime swore the vow. This one was certain he’d be able to keep. As Lord Chyttering packed his bags, the host began to as well, ready for the long march home. His father had told him to be certain that Chyttering stayed alive, to show Joffrey who really ruled. And now here I walk, deprived of fun. Here I come, sweet sister.
 
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