when you play the game of thrones you win or you die
Years have passed since King Tommen's reign over the Seven Kingdoms, and with those years things haven't changed. Much.
King Jon Hightower managed to regain the treasury from being in debt, that alone took many years. The Late King Tommen
was the last of his pure name, he left no heirs and married no woman. His brothers were struck down in a rebellion in
the Free Cities, his father had long passed.
So who gained the Iron Throne? Whose rightful place was to be seated in a thousand swords? No one knew, and no one still knows.
The High lords of Westeros meet each moon cycle to talk about things that have gone amiss in their Homelands, and to hear
the people of King's Landing. But how much longer will this go on? Time grows short for the Kingdom, for a storm is brewing.
Who will reign over the once mighty Kingdom?
Dawn had just broken through the dark night skies before Bryen Stark was awoken with a start. Slowly his heart beat began to slow back to its normal pace as he realized where he was. Unlike Winterfell, the Red Keep's walls did not have warm spring water flowing through them making the castle seem much harsher than it was. There was a stillness too the room, until Winter stirred next to the bed. Having the large direwolf near the young lord made him feel much safer in the Red Keep, without a King ruling the realm everyone was left in danger. "I require a warm bath and fresh clothing." He spoke with a light voice to the serving maids, as to not frighten them. A quiet "yes m'lord" was heard from two different maidens as the scampered off. Quickly Lord Stark rose and put on a grey and white woolen robe to warm himself until the maids returned with with the warm tub. Not long after the lord had put his robe on one of the serving girls came with his bath. "You have my leave to go, I can scrub my own back." Bryen hardly waited for the girl to shut the door before he slipped down in the warm water. It felt good against his skin, and soothed his aching muscles. He hadn't had time to bathe last night after he arrived at the castle since it was already so late, the voyage from Winterfell to King's Landing was no easy one. Bryen decided to wear a grey tunic along with a grey and white cloak with the white direwolf sigil of House Stark embroidered on the back. "I should be heading to the meeting now." Large doors opened up to the throne room room where the Iron Throne watched over the table for the small council to meet. Lately the people of the Kingdom had been coming to petition the Lords of the Eight great Houses of Westeros. "Well it seems like I'm the first one to show up, I suppose I'll just wait here." Bryen took his seat near the end of the table, and his direwolf Winter took a seat next to him.
The ride up to King's Landing had not been very enjoyable. It had been Ian's luck that the moment they left the castle, they get caught up in a storm. Although, he felt much relief when they had reached the capital. Ian was slightly annoyed by the fact that he was sent to the meeting of the Kingdoms in his father's place, but he understood how much his Lord Father was preoccupied with the business of the Stormlands, plus he needed to get use to being lord. Eventually his father would pass and he would rule Storm's End. Though there had been many troubles in the region with small little uprisings and more storms than usual battering the area. The only thing Ian looked forward to was talking with his old friend Bryen, who he knew would be here. He had arrived the day of the meeting and he walking to the great hall. Up the steps, he finally noticed the full weight of his armor weighing down on him. He was very tired and the only thing he wanted was to rest at a good inn and have a meal. Hopefully this meeting would not take too long but he knew he wasn't that lucky. He walked up the Great Hall and said to the guards, "I'm Ian Baratheon, heir to Storm's End. I'm here in my father's stead for the meeting." "Yes m'lord", said the guard as he allowed him into the hall. When he entered the hall, the first face he noticed was Bryen's. He approached him with a smile on his face and a friendly hello.
The Great Hall was unusually quiet other than the sounds of Winter's breath. The young lord looked down at the massive direwolf that never left his side, the Starks learned their lesson about keeping the wolves close after the Red Wedding at the Twins. That was all in the past now, though and there were more pressing matters to attend to. Bryen looked at the giant doors of the Great Hall before he noticed someone walking through them, finally someone else had arrived. "So you're Lord Baratheon now? I hadn't heard anything of your father's passing." His voice carried across the room. The man who had entered the hall was none other than his long lost friend, Ian Baratheon of Storm's End. They had been wards together under Lord Lannister, and that was where their friendship had begun, at least thats what Bryen wanted to believe. "You'll have to wait patiently now for the rest of the Lord's and Lady's to return. I've been doing so for nearly half an hour already. At least I've got winter to keep me company." He looked at Winter, who looked back with his red eyes. They were the eyes of the Old Gods, the Northeren Gods.
Ian laughed as he sat next to his old friend. He patted Winter on the head, Yes. There is always Winter for company. Anyways, I am not Lord yet. My lord father has more pressing matters back home so he sent me instead. I'm not really sure whether he felt this meeting was important or not. Either way I'm in no real mood to wait for the other Lords and Ladies to grace us with their presence." He took a deep breath and called one of the servants over to bring him something to drink since he was rather parched from the journey. He cleared his throat, "So do you have any clue exactly what this meeting is about? I wasn't really briefed and I'm not entirely sure whether or not my father had any idea?" He looked at Bryen and couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong. He seemed distant.
"I'm not really sure whether he felt this meeting was important or not. Either way I'm in no real mood to wait for the other Lords and Ladies to grace us with their presence."
Lord Bryen listened with content to with what his old friend had been saying, he knew exacly how Ian felt. The other Lords and Ladies of the great houses should have been here by now, since this meeting was rather imporant to the smallfolk of King's Landing. It was their duties as Lords to try and solve this matter of being Kingless as civially as possible, and if that meant acting as King's to the people of King's Landing, then so be it.
"So do you have any clue exactly what this meeting is about? I wasn't really brieded and I'm not entirely sure whether or not my father had any idea?"
It seems that Lord Baratheon didn't feel the need to tell his acting replacement what he was to do here after all...maybe he is just trying to prepare his son for his fututre, whatever it may hold. "As it happens, I do know what this meeting is about. As you know know, King Tommen has recently passed on and the Hand of the King is in no shape to rule the realm. On top of all of this commotion, King Tommen never married, nor did he see fit to sire any bastards that we can find. So the Lords and Ladies of the Great Houses took it upon themselves to hold a meeting at the Great Hall in King's Landing to hear what the smallfolk have to say, whether it be a complaint or asking for coin. For now, we all act as King and Queen of Westeros. We do our duties together and we do them well." Because if we don't, I fear we may have another war on our hands and the realm with bleed if that happens. The young lord thought to himself. He sighed and shifted his weight to the other side of the chair, if they waited much longer the people would get restless, however, if they proceeded then the other Lords and Ladies might take it as a threat.
Ian listened to the words of his friend and contemplated deeply on them. He wondered why King Tommen had no queen or children. Not even bastards. One would think he enjoyed the company of men rather than women. Rather this was true or not, the Kingdom was in chaos. "I know what you're thinking, Bryen. Lets both hope that war is the least likely scenario. After today, we will definitely have a better clue of what is going to happen in the next couple months."Knowing my luck, war will most definitely be the end result of this chaos. War is something I fear for the people of this land. Yet I find myself slightly excited at the thought. And with that a slight grin appeared on his face.
"Lets both hope that war is the least likely scenario..."
[/b]
So war is on your mind too, old friend? If it comes to that, I wonder whose side you'll be on... It was all too common for friends to turn their backs on each other when war was to be had. "I would hope that is what everyone else thinks also, else wise the realm will bleed." At those words Winter gazed over at Ian, his red old eyes looking into him as if asking the question of where his loyalty lies.
"I'm not sure we should wait much longer for the other Lords, what do you say?" It was best to give Ian Baratheon some power at least, even if he did seem to be a greenboy in the political matters. On the battlefield though, he was fierce, at least that's what Lord Baratheon would have everyone believe.[/blockquote][/blockquote]
Ian knew he had very little experience in the politics. He had been with this father in several meetings since he returned to Storm's End after he was doing being Lannister's ward, but he had never truly been involved in the decision making process. He knew he would have to eventually. His father was no young lord. He had been ruling for 25 plus years, before Ian was even born, and with all the stress in the Stormlands and the kingdom in general, it wouldn't surprise him if it took a toll on his father's health.
So how do you propose we proceed Lord Stark? You know as well as I how novice I am in these matters. With that he laughed. His mind still wondered around the idea of war. He wouldn't dare go against his old friend, and he wouldn't want him worrying where his loyalties lied but he felt it best not to bring it back up and proceed with the meeting.
Tytus had been up early to watch the sun rising over Blackwater Bay, since coming back to King's Landing only a few weeks ago it had become something of a daily ritual for him and had reaffirmed the feeling that as much as Casterly Rock was the seat of his power it was only in the Crownlands that he really felt at all at home. That was to be expected, though he had won the hearts of the West it was King's Landing which had won his many, many long years before. After some time stood upon the battlements he supposed that ought to be going, he was expected at court as soon as the sun had risen after all. As he understood it was not a meeting of the Small Council, rather the Hand had called all the Lords of the Great Houses from across the Seven Kingdoms to manage the ailing capital in its time of need and where necessary to mete out the King's justice while the Iron Throne lay empty. Or maybe, just maybe, he's called us here to stop us declaring Kingships of our own. Perhaps he's either hoping that we'll all kill one another so he can place the nearest Baratheon to the late King on the throne, or at the very least thin out the pack to one incontestable ruler. Sounds about right, certainly the prudent thing to do.
When the sun had finally risen free of the horizon and banished the last vestiges of the night, Tytus pushed himself up from where he had been leaning and headed for the Great Hall. He expected that one or two over zealous Lords or Ladies would have found their way there already, not realising that they would largely be dealing with petty matters unrelated to the succession. On the other hand though, it afforded each of them the opportunity to size up the competition and by that dint any of them would be total fools not to turn up at all.
Standing outside the large wooden doors which led in to the Hall, Tytus removed the sword belt he had donned that morning, wrapping it around the sheath and placing it in his left hand. As two of his entourage heaved the doors open he strode forward, his eyes fixed ahead upon the opposing image of the Iron Throne. I may have bitten off more than I can chew this time. His steps were confident and his head held high as another of his attendants sounded his introduction. 'The Lord Tytus Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.'
As if they had no idea. Just from looking he knew one of them for Bryen Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and judging by his age and the hue of his hair the other was Ian Baratheon. The both of them had been fostered by his father and they'd seldom met due to him being raised largely in King's Landing.
With almost no regard for the other two Lords... well, the other Lord in attendance at least, he walked straight past them stopping at the foot of the Throne where he knelt, placing his sword and sheath tip down as he bowed his head briefly. He stayed thus for only a moment before placing the weapon at the base of the colossal iron construct, for the time being it still belonged to Tommen after all. He turned and stood at the head of the table opposite the door and finally spoke.
'In the name of King Tommen Baratheon, the fourth of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Tytus the House Lannister, do call this gathering of Lords to convene.' Seating himself he quickly leaned back and settled with one arm upon the rest of his chair. A poor showing it seemed and because of that he expected that one of these two, perhaps both would dissent and insist they not begin until all were in attendance. Still, it was only proper to ask the question. 'Have you any objections?'
Bryen watched as the other Lord knelt in front of the Iron Throne before walking to the small table. King Tommen was dead, there was no need to try and show off how much he loved the King in front of an audience of two. Tytus Lannister, the man who grew under the King himself.. It was no surprise that the smallfolk of King's Landing already loved Tytus, he was one of them in a manner of speaking. While the wolf pup grew up among Lions, the lion cub grew up among the fawns. If it were to the people of the capitol, Tytus Lannister would be the new Protector of the Realm.
'In the name of King Tommen Baratheon, the fourth of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Tytus of the House Lannister, do call this gathering of Lords to convene.'"
So, we're already back in the game of thrones, and others seem to be being more persistent than others. The first move had already been made when the old man Hand of the King called the Lords to court, if anything it was for everyone to see the competition. ...however, if it comes to that, I'll need all the help that I can get. Bryen looked hard at the man sitting at the head of the table, with his golden blond hair, a trait of the Lannisters, he looked very much like his father had. Bryen had grown up under the care of the late Lord Tyren Lannister to make sure that there would be no misdeeds from the North to the West.
'Have you any objections?'
[/i]
There was no point in objecting now, seeing how it didn't look as if anyone else might show up. "No, Lord Lannister. Let us begin." Bryen beackoned for the guards to begin letting the smallfolk make their pleas to the acting court. It was the least he could do to try and show that he too, was a competitor. Poor Ian Baratheon, his first time acting as a temporary Lord and he's already been thrown into the Game itself. "Let us here what you have to say." the young lord said smoothly to the first man to walk through the doors.[/blockquote][/blockquote]
Lord Lannister had made his very graceful appearance to the court. Ian knew very little of the young lord. Although he had been ward under his father, like Bryen, he rarely met him.
After Tytus starting the meeting, the morning seemed to drag on and on. It was rather hot in the room and Ian found himself drifting between grievances and testimonies. It was all rather boring. Constant babbling about how this man stole my horse, this man killed my cattle, this man slept with my wife, this man apparently called upon the wrath of the gods and burned my barn. Blah Blah Blah. He sort of laughed in his head thinking that maybe all this was punishment by his father for something he didn't know about. All the while Ian kept silent, observing the way of lords.
After hours of trials and sentences, the beginning of the real point of the meeting began. All the lesser men left the Hall. By this point, many Lords had already joined in. The Hand clapped his hands together, Ian was feeling very nervous for some reason and he could hear his heart beating in his ears, and then the Hand cleared his throat. He said, "Well my Lords and Ladies. I feel it is about time we get down to the real business of why we are all here."
As was always the case, the details of these grievances and petitions bored Tytus immensely. He was beginning to understand just why the King had a Hand in the first place, aside from the usually impeccable council, anyone who had to deal with this from day to day would quite easily lose the will to live. He had been pleasantly surprised when both Stark and Baratheon had acceded to his request, but he did not take that to mean that they would just as swiftly bow down to his encroaching hegemony over the capital. It could quite simply be that any order given in the name of the King carried just enough weight to sway the hearts of these noble men. He doubted that immensely. The letters to each of the Lords from the Hand had contained the selfsame preface and already, with Tommen barely cold in the sept, Lord Baratheon already felt that his kinsman's authority meant shit.
I will need to talk to Lord Stark afterwards about his choice of companions, but he will be difficult to coerce. Wolves are lonesome and stubborn creatures.
When at last each of the remaining Lords had seen fit to turn over in and finally slide out of their beds to join them, the Hand arrived to call them properly to the business of the day. 'I have already spoken at length with the Lord Hand concerning the King's funeral tourney. The purse currently stands at 20,000 gold dragons to the winner of the joust, 10,000 for the runner-up, to be provided at the expense of House Lannister. That aside there will be a further 10,000 set aside for the winner of the melee and 8,000 for the winner of the archery. Favours and victories will be dedicated to the enduring memory of King Tommen as this tourney is not one of personal glory, but a celebration of our patron's life and victories.' He then turned to the Hand who now sat in his former place at the head of the table, while Tytus now sat directly to his right. Sighing he lowered his head briefly and rose in place of the Hand to announce the next order of business.
'My Lords, Ladies, my Lord Hand... it is well known to you no doubt that House Greyjoy has a storied past of disquiet and rebellion. In times of crisis and need it has always been the way of the ironborn to return to their Old Way and attempt secession from the Seven Kingdoms. It is therefore the view of the Hand and of myself that a punitive expedition should be fielded by all the Great Houses and their bannermen, to strike pre-emptively against the Iron Islands, to subdue the Lords, make hostages of their Heirs and burn their fleets at harbour.' He paused to clear his throat amongst the shocked gasps and stunned looks of silence.
'This proposal amounts to a declaration of war and we therefore seek your counsel on the matter.' He spoke as though it had been the Hand's idea, but it was he who had first proposed the plan as a part of his own personal game. That was his first move just assuredly as the Hand had made his, cursh rebellion with rebellion.
The meeting was really beginng to become an annoyance when the last of the complaints had been heard. That was when the Hand of the King came into the Great Hall. He was a fragile looking old man, relying heavily on a walking stick to support his weight. He had run his course, it was time for a new Hand along with a new King. Bryen had been studying everyone's faced all through the council, and nearly everyone looked bored to death by the complaints, but as soon as the Hand appeared the whole room had livened up from talk of a tourney. Why is Lord Tytus speaking for the Hand? He may be old, but he is not dead... Bryen couldn't shake the thought from his mind.
'My Lords, Ladies, my Lord Hand... it is well known to you no doubt that House Greyjoy has a storied past of disquiet and rebellion. In times of crisis and need it has always been the way of the ironborn to return to their Old Way and attempt secession from the Seven Kingdoms. It is therefore the view of the Hand and of myself that a punitive expedition should be fielded by all the Great Houses and their bannermen, to strike pre-emptively against the Iron Islands, to subdue the Lords, make hostages of their Heirs and burn their fleets at harbour.'
Of course, an attack on the Greyjoy's fleet. I thought the last war had put them in their place, but perhaps he is right. The Ironborn do tend to go back to their Old Way once the Iron Throne becomes available...I still feel like we should wait though. The lord looked around the room once again as he heard at the gasps. Winter's fur began to bristle under the palm of his hand, obviously the direwolf did not like the talk of attacks. Attacks after all, often to lead to war.
'This proposal amounts to a declaration of war and we therefore seek your counsel on the matter.'
[/i]
That was what Bryen had been waiting on, of course after he'd scared all the ladies and frightened the lords he would ask if they wanted to do it or not. "If you know well enough that this strike will lead to war, why not go about it a different way? I do remember being told that would lands could not survive the bloodshed from another war so soon. We should try to talk to the Greyjoys, wait to see if they make a move first. I do not doubt that they will, so I will keep my bannermen at Deep Motte and White Harbor on guard at all times." Bryen made sure not to lose eye contact with Tytus as he spoke before finally looking at the Hand as if to say,What now?[/blockquote][/blockquote]
Ian was honestly quite dumbfounded by the proposal to strike against the Iron Islands. Granted, he was schooled in much of the history of Kingdoms and knew the ironborn have struck against the lands before, he didn't feel that war was exactly necessary.
After hearing what Bryen said, he felt he had to interrupt before the Hand spoke. My Lord Hand, if I may interrupt. I understand the concern for wanting to strike against the Ironborn, but we have no true justification for this. Yes the Iron Islands have had a tumultuous history of war with the Kingdoms, we have no real indication that they plan to strike. I just fear that we may kill innocent people because we are letting our fears get the best of us and we jump to conclusions. I have to agree with Lord Stark. Perhaps it is best that we confront them beforehand and speak to them. In any manner, I will see to it that my father readies his men for Land but I feel we should try to avoid war and unnecessary causalities.
He got very quiet after that hoping the other lords would listen to his words. He knew he was young in the game of thrones but he felt that diplomacy was the better option than war.
Tytus was not best pleased with these latest developments. Granted he had not expected the wolf and stag to be so easily cowed by his suggestion, however he could not quite pin down their motives. Lord Stark at least seemed ready to take some precaution as he himself was in danger of massed attack from the ironborn just as much as the Westerlands were, but he knew far too little of Ian Baratheon to be able to properly ascertain his reasons for advising caution and diplomacy. It was quite possible that being young and not well versed in the game he genuinely believed that they would save lives and secure the peace by talking with the ironmen. On the other hand though it was equally likely that, as he had thought, Lord Baratheon had not attended because he wished to mass his banners in an attempt to place himself on the Iron Throne. In such a case any other military action would be viewed as wasteful and ultimately counterproductive.
Again before the Hand could speak, Tytus rose from his seat with his head hung low and a coy smile playing across his face. 'No,' was the first word to issue from his lips, flat and dismissive. Raising his head he locked his eyes with the young Baratheon, staring daggers at him as he spoke. 'There is only one form of diplomacy that these ironmen understand and that is conducted at the tip of a sword. Talk with them if you will, they will be neither intimidated nor deterred. I, for my part, will not sit idly by while the ironborn burn my hold and slaughter my people, all while you cower beneath Storm's End and call it justice!'
His flash of anger was quickly reigned in when the Hand raised his cane and struck it loudly against the floor. The noise hung in the silent still air of the court a brief moment before Tytus seated himself again. 'My apologies... to you all. You must understand though young Baratheon that the nature of politics is not so simplistic as the nature of good and evil. It will deceive you in to believing that you are saving lives even as you destroy them. My father taught you this, did he not? In any case, you might say that this is true of me, but it is no less the case for you and Lord Stark.'
He cleared his throat and gave a consenting nod. 'Very well, we shall send Lord Greyjoy an ultimatum, but should he not give up hostages and hand over a portion of his fleet then it must be war.'