Bab 31: Chapter 30
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Dragonstone.
The comet's tail split the morning dawn. A red streak like it bled across the pinkish sky above the cliffs and mountains of Dragonstone.
Maester Claessen stood on the windswept balcony of the chambers. This was where the ravens flew to him after their long wanderings. Now he and the gargoyles that had been erected here under the first Targaryens looked up at the sky with a bad feeling.
Maester Cressen did not believe in bad omens. Yet in his long life he had never seen a comet so bright and so terrible a colour - the colour of blood.
The comet had been blazing lately, even during the day, and pale grey smoke rose over the Dragon Mountain behind the castle, and yesterday a white raven had brought from the Citadel itself the long-awaited but no less dreadful news of the end of summer. The omens are too numerous to turn a blind eye to. If only we knew what they meant.
Worst of all, though, is the news from King's Landing - His Majesty Robert Baratheon has passed away, and his children have turned out to be bastards of the Queen and her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Guards. But that's not all. Lord Stark, a man loyal to the crown has been captured by traitors and is being held in the dungeons of Red Castle. And Renly Baratheon, the king's younger brother, is gathering his bannermen to wear the crown himself.
Soon the young Princess Shireen comes to the Maester for study. The little sickly and ugly girl was frightened by something as she looked outside the window. When Claessen asked her what was the matter? She told him of a bad dream in which she had been burned and then eaten by a dragon.
Maester reassured the frightened girl that she had heard stories of dragons from Panisheart. Though he noted that sometimes people have prophetic dreams.....
Soon he had to leave the princess because of a message that Lord Seaworth Davos had brought. Gritting his teeth at the fact that he only found out about it after the Small Council meeting of the new rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms had already ended.
Lord Stannis Baratheon was conducting business in a large circular room with walls of bare black stone and four narrow, tall windows facing the four sides of the world. In its centre stood a table, massive and wooden, carved and crafted at Aegon Targaryen's command before the Conquest. Aegon the Conqueror's craftsmen had carved it into the shape of a map of Westeros, painstakingly carving the edges of all the capes and bays. On its surface, it depicted the Seven Kingdoms of Aegon's time: rivers and mountains, cities and castles, forests and lakes.
The only person sitting in the room was a chair that stood exactly where Dragonstone had stood off the coast of Verteros. On it sat a man in a tightly laced leather colette and breeches of coarse brown wool, a man of shoulders and wiry build. His face and body were covered with sun-blistered skin that was as hard as steel.
When the maester entered, he raised his head.
Stanis frowned and couldn't find his composure. It was obvious even to a blind man. Though he was understandable.
- Your Majesty. - The maester bowed to him. - I have learnt that a council has been held on an important matter.
- It was. - He answered restrainedly, and for a moment returned his gaze to one spot on the map, King's Landing. - I didn't want to disturb you. You are old and it is difficult for you to climb steep stairs.
Stanis did not like or want to mince words, but the old man took no offence.
- Bad news, Your Majesty. You know of them and it grieves you. You are deceived and I understand....
- The Storm Lords are unwilling to take my side. They don't seem to like me, and the fact that my cause is right means nothing to them. The cowardly ones who sit back behind their walls and wait to see which way the wind blows and who will win. The bolder ones have already joined Renly. Renly! - He shouted that name.
- Your brother has been Lord of Storm's End for the last thirteen years. These lords are his sworn bannermen--
- Yes, when by rule they should have sworn to me. - Tonight I'm having a dinner party for my few bannermen.
- That's wonderful, Your Majesty. - Claessen nodded. - You may.
- They are waiting for an answer to Saltigar's question: when the lords of the Stormlands will join us. What do you think I should tell them? That it's just them and the mercenaries and the pirates who will support me? A pirate king! That's what I'll be after this. Or a King.
- Your Majesty, perhaps we should wait until all the bannermen arrive and then we can strategise? - Seaworth suggested. - You should calm down and think about the future of the Seven Kingdoms. You are the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. And you should be in good health and peace to make an important decision.
For a few more minutes Davos calmed the king, while Claessen prayed mentally to the Seven to send the answer to the question, "How can they win this impending war?"
The king was calmed down, and already in the evening he looked as usual without a drop of irritation.
The evening came.
Maester Cressen was entering the Great Wormhole when he almost fell down due to senile infirmity, but he did not fall down only because he was picked up by someone's hands. He turned round and saw Lady Mellisandra.
- You must be careful, Maester," Lady Melisandre said in a low voice that had a pleasant note to it.
As always, she was in red from head to toe. A spacious dress of fiery silk with slits in the sleeves and bodice revealed the darker blood red fabric underneath. A chain of blackened gold around her neck, adorned with a single large hexagonal ruby. Her hair was scarlet like blood, and glistened brightly in the torchlight. Even her eyes were red... but her skin, flawlessly smooth, without a single blemish, glowed a milky whiteness.
A slender woman, graceful, taller than most knights, full-breasted, with a thin waist and a heart-shaped face. Men's eyes lingered on her for long periods of time, and the young maesters were no exception. Many found her a true beauty. And they fell in love with her, and if not in love with her, they desired her with every fibre of their being.
- Thank you, my lady. - The Maester grimaced as if in pain.
- A man of your age should watch where he goes. The night is dark and full of terrors.
- Only children fear the dark.
Melisandre said nothing but turned round and walked towards the table.
Cressen also strode to the table and sat down and looked around the audience.
All the knights, lords, and mercenaries of the king were gathered at his table. Lord Bar-Emmon, Axell Florent, Davos Seaworth, Adrian Saltigar, Hanser Sanglass, Godri Faring.
There was one other individual that caught the Old Maester's attention. She sat closest to Stanis, Lady Celisa, and Lady Melisandre, it was the Lady of the Tides, Alice Velarion.
This woman shone probably as well if not better than the red priestess. Alice Velarion was a rather beautiful woman, with full breasts that barely fit in the bodice of her dress, a waspy waist, and a firm ass hidden beneath her skirts. Her slightly pale skin, almost like Melisandre's, gave her charm, her scarlet lips were a little plump, and the hairstyle she liked best was the half-ball of tight braids she wore every morning. Today, though, that hairstyle had the addition of a few dreadlocks that came off the main body of her mane. There was also a lot of jewellery: gold rings with rare and precious stones, a tiara made of silver, gemstones and Valyrian steel. Some of the patterns on it were in the shape of dragons. A necklace with a huge amethyst, several bracelets. It harmonised wonderfully with her blue and white dress, which had her house crest and dragons embroidered on it, in gold and silver threads, but mostly silver.
As the old maester looked at the four of them, it seemed to him that it was Celisa Florent, with her mediocre, even repulsive appearance, who was the extra one here.
Very soon after a small feast, Stanis began to talk about the main thing:
- The Stormlands will not support us, lords. They betrayed their king - me! And so they will pay for their betrayal.
Some lords thought of these words with a slight chuckle and scepticism, but none objected out loud.
- We are few in number, Your Majesty. - said Lord Saltigar. - We may have a larger fleet than the Lannisters and your brother, but we have few men.
- The Lord of Light will give victory to His Majesty. He will lead him to victory.
- 'As far as I know from worldly wisdom...' Cressen observed. -...war is won by those who have the most men or the most money. But on both counts, we're at a disadvantage.
At that moment, Lord Bar-Emmon, who had already been drinking and was not thinking straight, spoke up:
- Why do you care? We have Lady Velarion - victory is almost ours!
- Ha ha ha ha. Do the noble lords rely on me so much? - she laughed heartily. - What makes you think I'm the key to defeating the Lannisters?
- Your son. You can persuade him to fight on our side. And you're rich enough to have a navy and more men than even His Majesty. - Stannis gritted his teeth in resentment. - And besides, you could very easily persuade your darling son. All you'd have to do is let him near your tit. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
- Lord Santigar! Choose your words! - shouted Queen Celisa.
- Not at all, Your Majesty. - Alice waved her hand without taking her eyes off her interlocutor, who sobered up a little because he saw in them... death. - If Lord Adrian wants to know something important, let him. It's not such a secret. Yes, I'm sleeping with my son. No, no, no, I don't sleep with him. He's a real man who built his empire at a young age. His strength and intelligence are unrivalled. And if you think I can just sway him like that, you're far more foolish than I thought. He never lets anyone manipulate him. If he doesn't want to help, he won't. Besides, to help, we need something to attract and motivate him. Only then will he help.
There was silence in the room.
It was broken by Stanis, who let the unpleasant words about this woman's relationship with his own son pass his ears.
- Lady Alice, how can I enlist your son's support? What would interest him?
- I honestly don't know. - She shrugged her shoulders. - Sometimes I don't understand the way he thinks. He thinks outside the box, as a ruler or a warlord. There are too many facets to him. We'll probably have to find out during the negotiations. But trade is likely to be one of the main points. Perhaps. I'm telling you, I don't know what he'll want. He's got what he needs, he's got everything he needs.
- I hear you have Lady Alice's grandson? - Celisa asked politely.
Alice gave off a cold air, though she still radiated kindness and understanding with her smile.
- Yes. Richard. He's ten years old, such a lovely boy. I wish I'd spent more time with him. Oh, if it hadn't been for the war.
- I know, I know, my Shireen is the same age as your grandson and she's quite lonely sometimes, with my husband and I having important things to do. - now it's the Tidal Lady's turn to grit her teeth at what's being suggested. - So I think it would be wonderful if they could be friends. I'm sure it would even be good for the House of Rahl and the House of Barathen to be related. Thus cementing the friendship and bond between our nations.
- Hmm. I think that would be a wonderful idea. But...
- But what? - Celisa frowned.
- Darken and Richard would never agree to such a thing. The thing is, they're willful boys. They won't recognise someone equal to someone not of their own blood, or rather they won't recognise a woman as their equal. And Princess Shireen won't be Richard's only wife, if she ever is. He's already got his eye on a lot of girls his own age. And he's clearly inherited those traits from his father and grandfather. Well, to put it bluntly, he's going to be a dog. And Darken won't buy it. We'll have to offer him something else.
Both Baratheon consorts were unhappy with those words. But there was nothing they could do.
- However, even without my son, I can indeed bring more men for you, my king. Golden swords! Ten thousand seasoned warriors from Braavos can stand under our banners. They are at the end of their contract with the city and will soon be thrown out of the country because they will not swear an oath to Darken or retire.
- Golden Swords, these are some of the finest warriors of our time, my king. - Davos has raised his voice.
- I agree. But I'm not sure they'll swear an oath to me.
- Oaths are not necessary, Your Majesty. They are mercenaries, though they are from Westeros. - Alice added. - But I think some of them will decide to swear an oath to you and settle in the Seven Kingdoms after your victory.
- Good. What about your son?
- I can go back to Panisheart and talk to him.
- Ser Davos, Lady Melisandre... you will go with Lady Alice and help her negotiate. I trust you and I hope you will serve me well.
- Yes, Your Majesty. - All three replied in unison.
After that, the conversation turned away from Lady Velarion and descended to an argument between Melisandre and Maester Cressen, who died of his own poison....
Casterly Rock. Same time.
Lord Tywin Lannister is the head of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Guardian of the West. Tywin was one of the most powerful lords of the Seven Kingdoms and by far the wealthiest of them all.
The current head of House Lannister, unlike his father Titus, is a very cold, rigid and calculating man, able to subdue those around him, a brilliant strategist, calculating the intentions of opponents for many moves ahead. A man of fifty-six years of age, which has not lost its strength with age.
Despite his advanced age, Tywin is still a strong, fit man with broad shoulders. He has a shaved head. He also shaves his moustache and beard and wears stiff, thick sideburns that cover his cheeks down to his ears. With pale green eyes speckled with gold.
Across from him sat his younger brother, Keevan Lannister. His brother's distinctive feature was the absence of a pronounced ambition and pride, which is very uncharacteristic for a representative of House Lannister.
He is more of a doer than a leader like Tywin. However, he has many virtues, for which he was valued by his older brother. He had a strongly developed sense of duty, especially to his family. For many years, he was Lord Tywin's closest aide. Kivan was the only person Lord Utesa Casterly discussed his plans with. The only one Tywin trusted so much that he wasn't afraid to show his true feelings and experiences, albeit sparingly.
As for looks, he had a distinctive Lannister appearance: tall, fair-skinned, fair-haired, and green-eyed. He was never a handsome man, unlike his older nephew or even his brother: baggy, narrow-shouldered, square chin, poorly covered by a short yellow beard. He was also noticeably balding with age. But he wasn't ugly like Tyrion.
- War is inevitable. - Tywin stated.
- It's obvious, brother. - Kiwan nodded. - But that's not why you called me here.
- I did. The situation for our House is not going as well as I would have liked. My children have failed me, badly... Now we are up against the North, the Riverlands, the Expanse, the Stormlands, and Stannis with his small army and the islands. The Vale and Dorne are neutral. There's some ferment on the Ironborn islands. If the Riverlands are no match for us, then a coalition of the North, Spaceland and Stormlands could destroy us. And our house will fall. We need allies, and we need to deny allies to our enemies.
- Have you thought of something yet?
- Yes and no. There are many factors to consider. Take Dorne, for example. They maintain their neutrality. But given that Darken Rahl happens to be the legitimate son of Alice Velaryon and Oberyn Martell. He might well support Dorne's revenge on us as well as Stannis. And you know Rahl's forces well. You saw every dragon in Braavos when he conquered it. Not to mention his army of over a million men. Maybe more. He's very dangerous. And the great thing is, even the Faceless Ones won't take him down. No matter how many times they've been offered, no matter how many times we've ordered it.
- It's sad, Tywin. It's been a long time since our House has been in this position. - Kiwan nodded. - He is unlikely to support Dorne, though. Stannis is more likely, though Baratheon is no bargainer. If we pull the strings, the negotiations will break down, if there are any at all.
- Marriage.
- I'm sorry?
- Darken Rahl happens to have a son ten years old. Myrcella might be well suited to make an alliance with the D'Harans, or at least give us a reprieve from war with them. And if need be, an engagement could be arranged through your daughter to Darken Rahl himself.
- It's a good idea, but would he agree to it?
- I don't know. It's only one of the surest options. But this husband has proven that he thinks with his head, not his dick, unlike my sons. I wish he was my son. If that were the case, I could have peacefully stepped back and enjoyed my time with Joanna. But things have turned out badly. He is the son of our enemy. He has Martell blood in him. Though again, it's not clear what their relationship is yet. I mean, given all the aspects of his life and the Martells' actions.
- There are many uncertainties and we are in limbo. - concluded Kiwan, looking at a pensive Tywin.
- Yes. I even doubt that the diplomatic mission I want to send you on to Panisheart will succeed. But it's worth a try. Probe the ground for possible arrangements and common interests.
- I will do my best for the good of our house.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door of the Guardian of the West's office.
- Come in. - Tywin answered.
Tywin's steward came in and placed a tray with an official message to him. With the seal of House Rahl. The two brothers looked at each other and realised it was a very important letter.
Tywin carefully printed it out and read it. After a few moments, his eyebrows rose up.
- What is it? - Kiwan asked impatiently.
- A wedding. An invitation to a wedding...
- From whom? - I had forgotten about the seal of the sender's house. - Whose wedding is it?
- Darken Rahl and Daenerys Targaryen. They've invited us to their wedding, which is happening soon at Panisheart. And I think... we're not the only ones who got that message.
- And why do I get the feeling it's not a good thing? - Keevan closed his eyes tiredly.
To be continued...
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
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