Chapter 64
Back in Pentosh, the fat Cheesemonger found himself in an assembly of rich merchants, lords, and magisters as a familiar summons was called to deal with the menace of the large Dothraki Khalsaar laying siege to Qarth.
The scent of citrus oil clung to the silken robes of Pentoshi magisters, a poor mask for their nervous sweat as they gathered in the decorated room to decide upon their future.
"We need to do something about this new khal. We cannot let these savages make a mockery of us," began one of the Ministers, and his family were traders who did much business with Qarth and were heavily affected by the embargo set forth by the Khal Drogo.
"Yes, indeed," and his words were met with much surprise.
"I did not expect you to speak out in our favor," questioned the magister, and he shrugged as he bit into his favourite cheese.
"And why would I dare oppose this?" and everyone knew why.
"Didn't you host that very Khal's wedding in your manse and lavish him with a Princess for a bride," and of course he did, but that was until he had use of him.
"I did what I needed to protect myself and my interests. My actions served survival, not sentiment. I took no joy in wedding the precious Princess to that savage," and they all knew that he was lying, but who would dare call him on his lies?
He wondered if they bought the lie—or if it even mattered, so long as the mask stayed on
"And what does the savage demand of us?" questioned another.
"Ships," he answered.
"A thousand of them," someone clarified, and continued.
"So that he may ride to Westeros and conquer it for his bride," and there were laughs and chuckles at that, but the more intelligent magisters and Princes were all thinking of the cost.
"What of Westeros? What has become of the war there?"
"The war is over," Illyrio informed them of the latest happenings, and the news was rather ill-suited to his dreams.
"Word is one of Eddard's sons wed the lion cub, and now dons the crown," and from what he could gather, this was their first time hearing the news, even though Varys's network had grown much weaker in his absence, they still had quite a few sources in the Kingdom.
"Starks, from the North?" some questioned, and he answered with a nod.
"One of their sons wed the Usurper's daughter, and now he rules over the Seven Kingdoms while the Usurper's old friend acts as regent," and that was quite a quandry for he had hoped that the war would last for years, and would bleed the Seven Kingdoms dry.
But the Stark boy had surprised him, and though Westeros had bled. It was not nearly enough and so he had cut them again.
"If we accept the Khal's demands, we would be putting our relationship with Westeros at risk," said the Magister of Pentosh, and the Pentoshi did love their gold.
"But if we don't soon, we will have those savages surrounding our cities," and so the arguments started, and he watched patiently as the magisters all shouted and screamed their opinions, and only when all was said and done, he opened his mouth again.
"Perhaps I can give a suggestion," and all eyes turned towards him once more.
"We cannot capitulate to the demands of those savages, for doing so would set a bad precedent while making the Iron Throne our enemy, but if we try and hire an army to deal with this savage Khal, who is to say that the other khals would not join him? Pushing us into a full-fledged war," and that was their predicament, and it worried them all.
"But do you imagine what would happen if the khal were to succeed in this campaign of his..." and he could see their minds rolling, and while the people gathered here were divided by color, height, skin, languages, they were all united in their hunger for power and gold.
"You think the savages would agree to our demands?" scoffed one, and it was indeed a right question.
"Indeed, but war can be treacherous, especially for savages who know nothing of castles and sieges. Westeros would never accept them as well. But all we have to do is make sure that it is not a khal that sits on the Iron Throne, but rather a young, malleable and grateful Princess who shall remember all those who saved her from a savage horse lord and helped her sit on the throne of the conqueror himself..." and so he offered them what every man desired. Gold. Power. Crown.
He could see their minds working out, their greed taking over their better senses as he gave them one last nudge.
"Let the horse lord bleed his army for Westeros. When he fails, we pick up the pieces… and the Princess."
0000
LORD YOHAN ROYCE
The Eyrie was only ever so impregnable as the people inside it. The Arryn castle, which had never fallen to any army, except one with a dragon, finally broke as the people inside it revolted against the mad woman hell bent on destroying the Arryn name.
Yohan had been doubtful of their liege lady's claims the first time she had made them. Distant as they were, the whole of Vale knew of the love and devotion the late King and the Lord of the West held for their liege Lord, Jon Arryn.
The man had raised them along with his own family, treating them like children as he imparted upon them all the lessons necessary for a person to become a good and honorable lord.
And to think that one of them would betray that man. It sounded preposterous, but the Knights of Vale were known for their valor, and none of them dared to question the call of their Lady.
It was the killing of Catelyn Tully that broke the camel's back for him, as Yohan found himself questioning the sanctity of their liege lady's words. Yohan had met the red-haired girl when she had married Ned, and could not imagine her falling so low as to try and kill her own sister, and so he had halted the movement of his army despite the opposition from many of his lords.
And so, as he ascertained the truth, he realised the true extent of the treachery of the woman ruling over the vale. And so, he began to form a coalition against her, and though there were many jump-starts who took her side, to rise beyond their station slowly and surely, her support began to chip away as details of her treachery were revealed to all the lords.
Lysa Arryn was no woman. She was a harlot who had dreamt of taking another man into her bed.
But the Eyrie was nearly impregnable to an attack by land. The castle atop the mountain, with its winding rocky paths, made it almost impossible to attack, even if one was familiar with the land as they were.
But in the end, the Eyrie was not truly prepared for a siege, at least not one by an army deeply familiar with its terrain. And so, for more than half a year, his people held strong, encircling the Eyrie and putting it to the test.
And though they failed in breaching the capital gates. The support for Lysa Arryn grew thinner and thinner with every passing day, and soon enough the guards of the castle themselves revolted, or at least what little remained of them as Yohan Royce led the armies through the gates and into the main throne room.
And as they came upon the High Hall, a chilly air hit them as Yohan Royce raised his hand, stopping his men as he saw the clouds down below them, as the woman in question stood at the edge of the Moon Door, holding their lord's heir in her arms.
"Stop! Stop!" she screamed, as Yohan raised his hand, halting his men.
"Step away from the Moon Door!" he commanded, and he did not care for the woman. He would push her through the gates himself if he could, but the babe in her arms was their future lord, and the only true heir of Jon Arryn's heritage.
"No! You will not take my boy from me! Not again!" and Yohan could only scream, as the woman took a step forward, and fell down below into the skies, taking away the babe with her.
Her scream didn't echo—it vanished into clouds, swallowed whole by the sky.
0000
CREGAN STARK
It was customary for a King to not hold court during the celebrations of his wedding and so despite sitting on several Council meetings and deciding on various matters of the realm, Cregan had yet to sit the Iron Throne.
But that would change today, and the massive throne room had been prepared and the whole slew of lords and ladies from all over the realm had gathered to hear his address.
Myrcella stood beside him, clad in a red and green dress similar to the one she wore on her wedding, as he wore the thick furs common to the North.
"Don't be nervous," he assured her as they stood outside the gate, with the newest member of the Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane, standing behind them in his new white armor.
"That's easy for you to say," she chided, and he had noticed her getting bolder and bolder with every passing day as she came into herself, realising all the power vested in her as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
"ALL HAIL!" and as the herald began his announcement, the gates to the Throne room swung open, and the first thing they saw was the red of carpet of the Iron Throne, and then the thousand swords of Aegon's enemies all burned together into the menacing Iron Throne.
"THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS!" and with that, the throne room fell silent as Cregan and Myrcella walked forward, their steps slow and measured as per tradition, and he could see nearly a thousand eyes latching onto his every move, as he strode to the Iron Throne.
His father and his expanded council stood at the heel of the Iron Throne, as Lord Mace Tyrell was offered a ceremonial seat of Trade and Commerce, and Lord Mooton the title of Master of Ships, leaving behind only one vacancy in the form of Master of Laws.
The Iron Throne was a hundred steps tall, and as he reached the throne, there was a smaller seat besides it for the Queen, and Myrcella sat there. As Cregan turned around and gazed at the massive crowd gathered in front of him, he felt a bit overwhelmed.
The Crowd had lords from all of the Kingdoms, some of them his allies, some not. And now he was to rule over them all, and lead them against the Darkness erupting from the far North and Essos.
"Today I sit here on the Iron Throne after a war that nearly tore us all apart," he began his address, his fist tightly clenched over the wood of his cane, as he channelled the warmth and power from the red stone he had taken from the Melisandre of Asshai.
"It was a war of deception and evil, all created by a few people who wished to divide us all, so that they enact their nefarious plans once upon us all," and he had thought long and hard about what to reveal about the incoming wars.
"One of them was the sorceress that burnt the Sept of Baelor, killing thousands so she could install a pretender on the Throne, and her efforts were only added upon by the treacherous Spider, Varys whose web of lies and treachery forced kin to turn upon kin," and Myrcella gazed at him. He could see that his words had piqued the interest of all the occupants of the room.
"Though one wonders why a eunuch from Myr would bear us such hate. What harm have we done upon him that he would try and rip us apart," and by now he had allowed Qyburn to spread rumors about the true identity of Varys, so as to unite all the Kingdoms against this common enemy for as much as they may hate him, the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms hated the Blackfyres more than him.
"He answer, though cloaked in years of whispers and lies, is clear at last..." and they all hung at his words, as he offered them the identity of their true enemy.
"For that man was no eunuch! He may have chosen the name of Varys, but his real name, the one he was born with, was something else. He is a descendant of people who have long coveted these lands, people who would wish to see us all enslaved to their will. An evil that has tried thrice to conquer these lands yet has been beaten back each and every time," and by now, whispers had begun as Cregan waited for a few seconds to let their anticipation burn.
"Yes, I speak of the House of Blackfyre!" and his declaration was met with an uproar.
"The pretender House, which has tried to enslave us all three times, and as they realised that they could not win in a direct way against us, they turned towards treachery and sent one of their own to break us up!" And now it was time for the announcements.
"But we will not let the succeed!" and he raised his hand into the air.
"WE WILL NOT BE DIVIDED!"
"AS OF YESTERDAY, THE EYRIE HAS FALLEN AND THE VALE IS EAGER TO REJOIN THE FOLD, WHILE OUR MEN NOW SAIL TOWARDS PYKE ONCE MORE, TO BRING THE SO CALLED LORD REAPER TO HEEL!" and the crowd cheered.
"But that is war, and we must also make peace within ourselves. I will not let the plans of these pretenders succeed," and so he turned towards the first row, and called forth a name.
"Lady Shireen Baratheon, step forward," and the scarred girl took a step forward, and stood at the heel of Aegon's throne as the Hall turned silent.
"Your father rose against us. He questioned our right to the throne and conspired with that wretched red sorceress to kill thousands," and he could go on and on.
"But his actions were his own, and though he may have forgotten about the blood we share, the Queen has not, and neither have I," and with that, Myrcella stood up, and stepped forward, and gave her verdict.
And he had been a bit surprised when Myrcella had made the suggestion to give Shireen Storm's End. Without a Baratheon at the helm, the Storm Lands were beginning to fall into chaos, and many of the lords were trying to curry favor with him so that he might name them the Lord Paramount.
Others spoke of Edric Storm, the bastard, and though he had nothing against his status, he found the boy untrustworthy.
"Despite the histories of our fathers, you and I are cousins, and I will not rob you of your rights just because of the sins of your father. So, as per the laws of men and God I bestow upon you the lands of your forefathers, and name you the Lady of Storm's End and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands," and the scarred girl was but surprised along with more than two dozen lords and ladies who had expected her to be punished severely for her father's crimes.
"I am grateful for your mercy, my Queen, my King," and Cregan nodded as she stepped back.
"The Reach has rejoined the fold as well, and soon enough, the Lord of the Vale and the Iron Islands will take their vows once more," and then he turned towards the white cloaked Kingsguard standing at the heel of the throne.
"But justice is not complete—the treachery and the mistakes that cost thousands of people their lives. There remains one who must answer still." and with that, he took a deep breath, as he called forth.
And the whole room fell silent at his following words as he addressed his current Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
"Ser Jamie Lannister, step forward...."
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