41 Chapter 41: Reaction
(Year 293 AC)
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(Roughly Two months after the Citadel incident.)
(Varys POV)
"I'm afraid the rumors are true, your grace. The Iron Islands are no longer a string of islands." Varys paused here to let that bit of information sink into everyone's heads.
Presently he was in the small council chambers with the small council members and surprisingly the king, relaying what new information he had managed to get circulating Westeros.
When news first reached him of William Castian sailing to the Iron Islands and reshaping them, it seemed a little too farfetched, and he was almost sure someone was just trying to make sure the world didn't forget just who William Castian was.
Varys honestly thought it might have been William Castian himself that started the rumors to keep his reputation up, but if everything he had managed to figure out so far was anything to go off of, it was unlikely.
The existence of the landbridge in Asteria was reason enough for the rumors to be given some bit of possibility to them, at the very least. So, doing his job, Varys sent more than a few spies to the Islands, and after the information he got back from them, he went there to see it for himself.
It had truly been a shocking sight to behold. It wasn't clear where the islands had joined up together, but Varys could see some parts of each island as he travelled inward. When he got to the rubble that was once the castle on Pyke, it only confirmed his fears about the rumors. They were true.
Rather than go straight back to King's Landing, Varys tried to find out WHY this had all happened in the first place.
'Surely Castian didn't do this on whim.' He had thought.
Making his way further inland, Varys arrived at what once was probably a proper town. Now though, it looked like it had been through a battle besieged by trebuchets for a fortnight. Still, he could see people walking about the ruined buildings, so he went to investigate.
Walking about the rubble, Varys noticed the banners fluttering about everywhere, and unlike the golden kraken on the field of black belonging to House Greyjoy that he was expecting, he saw a silver scythe on a black field, the sigil of House Harlaw.
Varys could swear the Ten Towers, the seat of House Harlaw was the furthest port on the eastside of the new Iron Isle along its coast, so why was he seeing their sigil all the way this far inland?
Investigating further, Varys went on to speak to a number of people around to get some information, and what he learned was enlightening to say the least. For starters, House Greyjoy was no more.
They were slaughtered to the last, leaving Theon Greyjoy the only living member, but he was all of the way in Winterfell in the North. No one wanted to wait for their stolen prince to return to lead them, not that they would have followed him to begin with even if he was here now.
From what he could gather, Varys learned that after The Reckoning, as people began to call it, the Lords of the Iron Isle began to go to war with one another. Regardless of the earth shaking and the catastrophic events that might have happened, Lords were still as greedy as ever, thus wanting what belonged to their neighbors.
Before it was easy to leave one another alone with them all being on their own little islands and whatnot, but now it was a fight for supremacy. Most Lords didn't want to bow to those they thought were their equal, or they just didn't think someone would be a good ruler, so they all started killing one another.
Of course, there were some Lords who banded together to get rid of the competition, or just banded together to survive. There were almost 40 noble houses on the Iron Islands before the reckoning, House Greyjoy included.
Now though, there were barely more than 20, of which 9 had pledged allegiance to House Harlaw.
The Isle was divided into four Houses vying for supremacy, of which the other houses had pledged their loyalty to. House Harlaw was the strongest with 9 houses pledged to it, ruling over a third of the new Isle for itself. House Goodbrother was the second strongest house vying for power, having 6 houses pledged to it. They ruled over a quarter of the Isle in the northwestern region.
The last 2 houses vying for supremacy had 5 and 3 houses under them, the latter being the one to most likely be wiped out sooner than later. It was safe to assume the Iron Isle would soon have a lower populace than ever before.
It took a few days, but eventually Varys was able to uncover the reason for the Reckoning, as it was so aptly named. House Greyjoy had attacked some northern ships from Asteria, and Castian being the monster that he is, retaliated.
Varys could see no benefit in provoking Castian like that, and it proved that the Ironborn hadn't learned from the last time they tried to attack someone.
Done with gathering his information, Varys made sure to put a few of his little birds in places where they could report to him on anything of note so he could stay informed of who won the war for supremacy on the isle.
'After all, it wouldn't hurt to be able to add whoever won to the true king's cause when he arrives in Westeros.' He thought, then disembarked back to the Capital.
"What of Balon and the rest of House Greyjoy?" Jon Arryn asked, being the first to digest the information. He was taking everything about as could be expected, but Varys could see the man was aging far too quickly.
'The stress of trying to fix Robert's problems.' Varys thought, almost pitying the poor fool.
"Gone. Castian killed them one and all. The only surviving Greyjoy is Theon, but his name won't win him any love there now." Varys answered, being completely honest.
He could never be sure about it, but had Balon been alive after the Reckoning, Varys guessed the same fight for power would have ensued between the Ironborn. They would serve Balon from his seat in Pyke, but if he tried commanding them from their homes and lands, the Ironborn would have most likely killed him first.
'No honor among thieves.' Varys thought, knowing the Ironborn couldn't be called anything but.
There were a few more questions before everyone seemed to want to sit in silence and ponder what to do next. Well, everyone but the King. Robert rarely if ever attended the small council meetings, and when he did, he usually slept through them, so having him here and awake was a bit annoying. Still, given what they were discussing, it was understandable why the man was here.
"I'll mount his head on a spike for this!!" Robert bellowed in anger. His face was almost crimson, but Varys knew most of that was from the wine.
"For dealing with traitors? I'd sooner throw him a feast!" Stannis declared, not sharing his brother's view on the matter at all. His hatred for the Greyjoys and the rest of the Iron Islands was no secret, so his words didn't come as a shock to Varys nor anyone else on the council.
"Aye, if anything he did us a favor. They attacked the North, and the North struck back. We can even say it was by a royal decree. The crown will not allow the seven kingdoms to fight one another. All we have to do now is let the Iron Islands, or Isle as it were, settle this matter between them, then have whoever comes out on top come and swear fealty. They were already in a weak state before, now they can't afford to act without the crown's say so." Renly said, surprising everyone when he agreed with Stannis.
The two hadn't gotten along since before Robert became king, and when Robert made Renly the Lord of Storm's End instead of Stannis, the enmity between them only grew.
It was doubtful that anyone would believe that William Castian did anything for the crown, but Renly was good at spinning words to make himself look good, so it could be possible. The odds of most of the Lords of the seven kingdoms believing those words was still up for debate, but there was only so much they could do here.
By all accounts the Greyjoys were in the wrong, and had Asteria belonged to Ned Stark, the Warden of the North might have tried to get his own form of justice.
Granted, it wouldn't be close to the scale that Castian did, but it would have come no matter if the crown agreed or not. It wouldn't do for the Starks to let their people be raided by enemy kingdoms, and everyone knew it.
"You're saying I should do nothing a third time, while this- this sorcerer ravages my kingdoms?!" Robert growled. Clearly, he wasn't a fan of Castian.
Already he had to bite his tongue when Castian claimed a portion of the North and made it into a city, then the man went and attacked the Citadel, most likely after he had re-shaped the Iron Islands.
The news of the Citadel incident had spread far and wide only days after it happened, but before any of the Great Houses could even think of how to act, House Tyrell seemed to fix the situation.
There were even rumors going around that the Citadel had provoked the great magician, which his supporters took as fact. Robert had wanted to bring the man in for sentencing, but was told that no one would support him again.
By all accounts, Castian had never done anything unless he was provoked, at least as far as the crown could prove. The people loved and feared the man, and tales of his great accomplishments had spread all over the world by this point.
Castian was a living legend, and Robert would be hardpressed to gather supporters to take him down unless the man did something truly vile.
The crown could spread their own rumors about the elusive magician, but the fear of sparking his ire was too well ingrained into everyone. Not even people that hated the man wanted to provoke him.
Well, Robert would have if his Hand had let him, and Queen Cersei had already tried, but they didn't leave the Red Keep, not that she knew that.
Tywin had made it clear to Grand-Maester Pycelle to make sure she didn't do anything that would cause poor relations with the mage, and to halt any messages she wanted sent. The queen still believed the messages had been sent, so she hadn't raised too much of a fuss since then.
"If you try to punish a Lord for defending his people, you will spur the people against you." Jon Arryn advised the king, reminding him that a Lord had a duty to their people.
"You call him a Lord?! You believe he is one?!" Robert asked angrily, sounding as though he was a little child throwing a tantrum.
"You might not like to hear it, but Castian is a Lord in every sense of the word." The Hand of the King said calmly, as though a patient father instructing his willful son.
Varys remained silent as he listened to everyone speak around him, only giving his input when it was needed or when he was called upon. For most of the day the small council discussed the newly dubbed, Iron Isle, and a few other minor topics.
Well, everyone but the king. Robert had departed less than an hour into the meeting. That was fine with Varys though. He preferred it when the king wasn't there. It made it so much easier for him to just sit and listen to the fools run the kingdom into bankruptcy.
It wouldn't be more than a handful of years before the true king arrived to restore the realm to its former glory. Once the true king was ready, he could come and claim the Iron throne for himself.
The realm would need to be a bit more destabilized before the true king arrived, but that wouldn't be hard to do. With what Varys knew, he could have the Great Houses siding against one another and turn the realm upside down. Thinking on the matter, Varys gave a look to his fellow council member, the Master of Coin.
'He will do nicely.' He thought, already planning his next move on the board.
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(Cersei POV)
"Father should have let Robert march on him! With the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and the Vale, we could crush this- this boy! Instead, we're sitting on our hands while he ruins our son's future!" Cersei ranted furiously to her naked brother Jamie, who was sprawled out on the bed beside her.
"You haven't seen what he is capable of." Jamie stated, sounding as though he understood his father's reasoning. Huffing angrily at her brother, Cersei climbed out of bed and began to put her clothes on.
"You get one glimpse of magic and all of the sudden you think the man is one of the Gods! Next you'll be telling me you believe in grumpkins and snarks!" Cersei mocked, feeling as though her brother had forgotten one of the truths of the world.
'Lions fear nothing!' She thought, wondering when it was that the men in her family had gotten weak.
Even her father was bending to a man he had never met before, and it infuriated her to no end. Had it been anyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, if someone dared to harm a Lannister, her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, would have killed everyone connected to the perpetrator, and paraded their heads all over the world.
"I've seen his power, you haven't! It was only a small bit of it, and he treated me as though I was a child, and it was just a game to him!" Jamie declared, trying to get his sister to understand that there was a reason why their father was being so cautious of this man.
"What happened to you?! Less than a year ago you were fearless! You were the embodiment of a lion, and now you're a kitten!" Cersei told him, feeling as though he was a completely different person than the one who went North to deliver a summons.
Not getting an answer from Jamie, Cersei finished putting her clothes on, then moved to her desk and began writing something on a parchment. If her father, brother, and her useless husband weren't going to protect the realm from some rogue mage, she would do it herself.
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(Petyr Baelish POV)
'If a war between House Lannister and the crown were to break out, who would you side with?' Baelish repeated the Spider's words in his mind.
Varys had been awfully cryptic, but Baelish knew the man wouldn't ask such a thing for no reason. It hinted that there would be conflict between two of the great houses, and a war would break out across the realm.
One would think that it would be completely one-sided, given how there were six other kingdoms sworn to the crown, and as powerful as Tywin Lannister was, he couldn't take on the entirety of Westeros.
'But it's not six kingdoms.' Baelish thought to himself.
Westeros would be divided if the Lannisters rebelled against the crown, and it wouldn't be in two either.
Dorne hated both the Lannisters and the Baratheons with a burning passion, and the Iron Ise was already in their own conflict, so they were out.
The Reach seemed to be distancing itself from the crown, so aside from supplying provisions, Baelish didn't count them for either side. Hell, they sold war provisions to the highest bidder, and seeing as how the crown was in debt, the provisions they sold would most likely go to the Westerlands. As far as Baelish could see anyway.
With the Stormlands and the Vale, Robert would have the numbers on his side, not to mention the fact that Jon Arryn could pull the Riverlands to their cause due to his marriage with Lysa Tully. Dear old Ned Stark would possibly rally the Northerners to fight King Robert, but that was only a possibility.
The Northerners grew tired of the south with each passing year, and Baelish honestly wasn't sure if they would ride south once more for their 'King'. Ned Stark might, but it was questionable about the other lords.
Baelish was already working the field in his mind, trying to figure out which side to gamble on, and which side he could rise the highest. With Tywin Lannister running the field, Baelish knew he could only rise so high, but Robert was an incompetent fool. If Robert was gone...
'No.' Baelish thought, remembering Robert's two brothers.
Renly wasn't much, and with the right assassin, the flowery ponce could be dealt with in short order. Stannis was a different matter altogether. The man was untrusting of others on his best days, and ruthless on his worst.
He is known for his prowess as a battle commander, and he is utterly without mercy. There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man. This is Stannis Baratheon. The man would fight to the bitter end and then some, and Baelish couldn't even try to make a guess at what the man would do.
As good as he was at reading people, Stannis was harder to get a read on. Hatred and jealousy could do that to someone, making them do things that others would find unthinkable.
*Creek!*
The sound of a door opening drew Baelish from his musings and back to reality. Looking towards the door, he saw Jamie Lannister with dishevaled clothes, leave Queen Cersei's room, just like he expected.
'What if Robert had no true heirs?' Though Varys had only hinted at it, it was enough to get him to look into it. Baelish was expecting the Queen to be sleeping around, but he was honestly not expecting it to be her brother, Jamie. A member of the King's Guard, sure, but not her brother.
'A war indeed.' Baelish thought as he moved back further into the shadows. Once he was back in his chambers, he began pacing about the room to get his mind into order.
Thinking of how Robert would react, Baelish knew there would be war, but before that, Jon Arryn would need to go. The man was all about peace, and Baelish knew that the man would do everything in his power to try and stop Robert from waging a war that would cause them to lose the Westerlands.
Moving over to a locked chest, Baelish pulled a key from around his neck, then opened it. After removing a few things from the chest, he found a small metal box, which he took and placed on the table beside his bed.
The tears of Lys is a rare and expensive poison, made by the alchemists of Lys. It is clear, tasteless, odorless, and leaves no trace. When dissolved in liquids and swallowed, the poison eats away at the stomach and bowels of the victim, and appears to be a disease of those organs.
Giving the victim a powerful purgative, if done early enough, may be the only thing that can save their life, but even that may not be enough. Baelish had acquired this from a merchant months ago, and it was about time that he finally used it.
'Lysa would be more than willing.' He thought, thinking about that unstable woman. She was easy to manipulate, and she practically worshiped the ground that he walked on, and there was no one in the world that could get closer to Jon Arryn than her.
'I will rise through the coming chaos and take my rightful place!' Baelish thought, already imagining himself sitting above the rest of the world while they bowed before him.
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(Ned Stark POV)
"Is this true?" Ned asked Maester Luwin, showing the man the message, they had received by Raven only minutes before.
"Aye, My Lord. The Citadel and the crown have confirmed it. House Greyjoy is no more." Maester Luwin answered calmly.
"What was he thinking?!" Ned asked aloud, though the question was more to himself than anything. To eradicate a whole house like he did was very... Lannister like, something that Ned did not approve of.
There was also what he had done to the Islands themselves, but Ned actually couldn't be bothered to try and think about that. He couldn't even begin to fathom Will's reasoning for that, but what was done was done, and he couldn't change it.
"My Lord. Should I tell Theon?" Maester Luwin asked, figuring that Ned wouldn't try to keep his ward in the dark about such a thing.
The Northerners were different that way, and it was something that Maester Luwin actually respected about them. There was none of the scheming, cheating or backstabbing that came from the south, and it made it far easier to trust the people around them.
"No. I'll tell him myself." Ned told the old maester, who simply nodded his head in understanding.
"What will you do with him now?" Maester Luwin asked, rather curious what the Warden of the North had planned for a ward with no family or lands to speak of.
Was there even a point in keeping Theon in the North anymore? It's not like there was anyone in the Iron Isle that even cared about him, so why should they keep him?
"Nothing... He might not have my blood, but he is a Stark of Winterfell." Was all Ned said in response, then left the room to go find Theon.
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(Theon Greyjoy POV)
'This can't be true!' Theon thought, not seeing how his family could all be gone. By now most of the North had heard the rumors, but unlike everyone else, Theon didn't believe the Iron Islands, his home, his family, could all be gone.
Greyjoy, the name he was so proud of, was all but gone, save for himself. His birthright was gone too, if the rumors could be believed. Granted, the Iron Islands would never have gone to him in the first place unless he was elected as the next ruler at the Kingsmoot.
Kingsmoots were great councils held by inhabitants of the Iron Islands in which kings were chosen by longship captains. Any captain who owns a ship may participate when a kingsmoot is held, as it is said among the ironborn that "every captain is a king upon the deck of his own ship".
Candidates may try to sway his fellow captains with a speech on his prowess and gifts to show his generosity; only once a vast majority call out a candidate's name to proclaim him king does the kingsmoot end.
Not even Balon Greyjoy could have chosen his own successor, so Theon thinking he lost his birthright was simply wrong. Still, the young man didn't know this, thus he thought he lost something that he never had in the first place.
When Lord Stark summoned him to his solar, Theon had been expecting a lot of things, but never had he expected to hear about the rumors being true.
Lord Stark had tried to tell him something after breaking the news to him, but whatever the man said was lost on him. Too many things and thoughts were playing about his mind to actually listen, and when he finally did get himself under control, he stood abruptly and left the room without so much as glancing at Lord Stark.
Upon exiting the solar, Theon ran. He didn't have a set destination in mind, all he knew was that he had to run. As he passed by knights of House Stark, he could see them staring at him as they whispered to one another, most likely about him. He had no idea what they were saying, but he could guess.
'The Last Greyjoy!'
'Heir to nothing!'
'No point in keeping him around now!'
'Lord of nothing!'
The words played about in his head, and it only seemed to make Theon run faster. Ever since he was brought to Winterfell almost 4 years ago, he had spoken of his name like it meant something, having believed it was truly great.
The Iron Islands had fought against all of the other six kingdoms of Westeros combined, and though they had been crushed, no one could say the Iron Born weren't fearless. Brainless maybe, but they were fearless.
Well... that was before William Castian changed everything.
Because of a few fishermen, Castian had eradicated his family and re-shaped the Iron Islands. Theon could remember seeing the man in Asteria, but despite the rumors, Castian didn't look at all like the monster people thought him to be. Even now, Theon couldn't imagine how he had accomplished such a feat against the Iron Islands.
When he finally stopped running, Theon was completely out of breath. With his hands resting on his knees, Theon gasped for breath as he looked around him. He recognized the street he was on, as he had walked it dozens of times in the last year alone.
Though he was only 15 name days old, he was of a larger stature than most boys his age. Puberty had hit him early, and at the age of 13 he had lost his virginity to the brewer's wife in the Godswood of Winterfell.
It had been almost 2 years since then, and by now he had been with more than a few of the whores in the brothels of Winter town, which was near the street where he was currently standing.
The building in front of him however must have been his true destination instead of the brothel, and when he thought about what was inside, he couldn't have agreed more.
The Smoking Log was a local Inn and alehouse of Winter Town, and one of the more popular establishments for people to come and have a drink. It was run by an old man, his wife, and their daughter. The old man did have a son as well, but he was a knight for Lord Stark.
Walking into the Smoking Log, Theon moved over to the young woman who was carrying a jug of ale in her hands, and without a word or a smile, he took the jug of ale and a cup and sat down in a nearby chair.
He had frequented the establishment on more than one occasion, so they knew him fairly well by now. It was probably the only reason why the man sitting off to the side of the room didn't do anything about his actions. With only one thing on his mind, Theon began to drink, hoping to forget this terrible dream.
It wasn't until a little over 3 hours later, and 10 cups of ale too many that Theon was no longer capable of thinking straight. He had pissed himself over an hour ago but hadn't so much as twitched at his actions.
The young woman serving the ale had tried to cut him off for the night, but he had thrown an empty jug near her feet, scaring her into handing over another jug.
Had her father been there at the time he wouldn't have tolerated that no matter who Theon was, but he had gone to deliver some food to his son, who was on watch for the night.
It was late into the evening already, and most people were already at their homes by now. Even the few people staying in the Inn were already asleep in their rooms.
In the alehouse portion of the Smoking Log, Theon was the last patron, and had he not been a Lord, the young woman would have already tried asking him to leave, but he was in a position of power, and she didn't want to earn his ire.
When he got to his feet, the young woman let out a relieved smile, hoping that he was finally going to go so she could close up the alehouse. Theon had seen the smile, and in his drunken state, he thought she was mocking him.
To him, he thought she was thinking, 'I don't want a Lord of nothing here!' He was angry.
Grabbing the nearly empty jug of ale on the table next to him, Theon began walking towards the young woman. As he was walking closer, she grabbed a wooden tray from the wall next to her and began moving towards the table he had just been sitting at so she could clear away the mess he had made.
When she got within reach of him, Theon swung the jug as hard as he could, smashing it into the side of her head. The young woman hadn't been able to react in the slightest before she was sent sprawling over an adjacent table.
Before her body could fall to the ground, Theon grabbed her and held her, so she was bent over the table. With one hand he held her in place, while the other hand began to tear at her clothes.
It was only a few minutes later when he was pulling up his pants that he registered the fact that the girl wasn't moving, and hadn't so much as made a sound while he ravaged her body.
Grabbing a nearby candle from a few feet away, Theon brought it over so he could check on the woman, and it was only then he noticed the pool of blood that had formed under the table.
In a wave of panic, Theon shakily ran towards the door. Just as he opened the door to leave, the owner of the Inn was returning. The man looked at him in surprise, no doubt confused as to why he was still here, but Theon didn't care to answer.
Instead he began to run. Well, he hobbled away as best he could. In his state, it was shocking he could even stand.
He was only a few houses away from the Smoking Log when he heard the shouting, and he knew he was in trouble. He didn't get too much further before he found a place to hide out for the night, and hopefully be able to sleep off his drunkenness. If he was lucky, he would wake up and find this had all just been a bad dream.
Theon was awoken from his sleep by a kick to the ribs. He tried to grasp where the blow had struck, but found his hands restricted and unable to move to where he wanted.
"On your feet!" The familiar voice of Ser Rodrick sounded out, making Theon wonder if he had slept through another training session. Ser Rodrick could be cruel when he wanted to be.
When he finally got his eyes open, Theon realized he wasn't in his bed, but on the floor of the dungeon, if the barred door was anything to go off of.
It was only when he saw the door, that memories of what he had done the night before entered his mind. With a look of horror, Theon slowly looked up to meet Ser Rodrick, and upon seeing the look of rage on his face, all of the blood drained from him.
"I-I-I...!" Whatever Theon tried to say died in his throat as Ser Rodrick roughly pulled him to his feet.
"It grieves me you've less honor than a back alley whore! Lord Stark raised you among his own sons... and you disgraced him!" Was all Ser Rodrick said before he pushed Theon towards the door.
When they got outside, Theon was led out of the walls of Winterfell and into Winter Town. People lined both sides of the street, watching him being led towards the town square.
When they finally arrived, Lord Eddard Stark was waiting with the ancestral sword of House Stark in hand beside a chopping block. It didn't take a genius to figure out who's head would be on it.
Frantically looking around, Theon's eyes found Rob, but unlike the support he was expecting, he saw a look of pure rage on his friend. It was understandable. He had raped and murdered a girl, and there was nothing he could say in his own defense.
The northerners wouldn't hear it. If he were back in the Iron Islands, they probably would have congratulated him, but the north was different. He had committed a crime, and now he would face the consequences. He knew that, and Rob knew it too.
He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but the words just wouldn't come out. Even when he was pushed to his knees, not a single sound escaped his lips.
"Have you any last words?!" Lord Eddard asked, making Theon think of everything that had happened in the last few days. The number of things he could say wouldn't help his cause, and he knew he wouldn't get forgiveness for what he had done, so he didn't bother begging.
After what seemed like an eternity of thinking, Theon swallowed hard before shouting, "I AM A GREYJOY!!"
To everyone watching him, it looked as though he was an insane man shouting out a reason, but to him he was just trying to live his last moment as a proud member of a great house.
It was too bad the rest of the world thought of the Greyjoys and everyone else on the Iron Isle as murdering rapists, and by declaring himself a Greyjoy, he was confirming himself to be like his father and clansmen alike.
After his declaration, the town went quiet as everyone looked to their Lord. He didn't make them wait long.
"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the first men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm, I Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die!"
Theon's eyes were wide in horror, but no matter where he looked, he only saw death. The last sight he saw in the world was the old man who owned the Smoking Log.
He was staring straight at him with eyes promising they would meet again in the next life, and he would kill him all over again.
Not even the Drowned God could save him, as there was nowhere for him to drown.
'What a worthless god.' He thought, right as the sword fell upon his neck.
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(Olenna POV)
"Did he tell you about this? It's certainly something someone would mention!" Willas asked Olenna.
He was referring to a message they had gotten from King's Landing, informing them about what was happening to the Iron Islands.
There was some nonsense in it about Castian doing it on a royal decree, but Olenna knew that part was a load of shit. Clearly the Ironborn had done something to anger the magician, and now they were suffering for it.
"No. But given the stories about everything he's done when he was a child, it fits him perfectly. And I don't think he thinks it was worth mentioning." Olenna answered, not doubting for a second that Will would or could desecrate a kingdom on his own.
She also figured that something of this magnitude was second nature to the mage by now that he probably didn't think it was important at all. Hell, he had done it in passing on a trip south, so it was probably for shits and giggles!
Hearing about House Greyjoy being eradicated to the last, Olenna could very well see the same thing happening to her house if they crossed the line again.
She would have thought this was a warning for her specifically, but given how long ago it had apparently happened, Will had done it before he came to Oldtown.
"I wonder why he didn't just destroy the Islands?" Margery thought aloud, doing her own bit of thinking.
It wasn't unheard of for Will to leave people alive, but if most stories were to be believed, he usually eradicated everyone before he destroyed their homes completely.
Stories could of course be blown way out of proportion, and would be exaggerated more with each rendition, so Olenna didn't really think Will had killed every evil person he came across. It just seemed too ridiculous.
She figured he left the isle there so the Ironborn could kill themselves, which was actually part of the reason why Will had done what he did. One of the big reasons for keeping the Iron Isle around instead of sinking them was because the Six Kingdoms didn't have nearly as good of a ring to it as the Seven Kingdoms did.
"What do we do with this information?" Willas asked, curious if they should act in some way that could possibly help their house.
"We look at it like it could be our House if we go against Castian. It's a lesson of what not to do." Olenna spoke, getting solemn nods from her two grandchildren.
House Tyrell was on thin enough ice as it was, and if they overstepped, they would fall through to their deaths just like everyone else before them.
"Do you think his brother is spoken for?" Margery suddenly asked, surprising both Willas and Olenna. It was so off topic, neither of them expected such a thing.
"The dark-haired one or...?" Willas asked, unsure which brother she was talking about.
"No, the taller one. I didn't hear his name, but he was very handsome." Margery said, causing both Olenna and Willas to lock eyes.
'It could happen...' Olenna thought, thinking of her granddaughter one day married to the king. The true king, with the support of the world. She wondered if it would be a good idea to tell them who William's brother really was.
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(Tywin POV)
"I would have wiped them all out, but this is close enough!" Tywin exclaimed to his brother Kevan, showing a rare hint of a smile as he read the number of reports in front of him.
One of the reports was of course from the capital, but Tywin had told Kevan that it was a load of horse shit, and that Castian would sooner butcher Robert than follow any order he gave.
The other reports were from Tywin's own spies. When news first reached Casterly Rock about what Castian had done, Tywin had laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but an actual laugh.
The man hadn't so much as smiled since his wife passed away during childbirth years ago, but when he found out what Castian had done to the Ironborn, he laughed for a solid minute.
Keven was surprised to hear his brother so happy about something that had no business with their house whatsoever, but he soon understood why.
"He is a truly cunning man!" Tywin stated. Looking at Keven, Tywin could see his brother was waiting for him to explain, so he did.
"If a Lord can't protect his people, they move elsewhere. A Lord without subjects is just a man calling himself, 'Lord.' By using the Ironborn, Castian has ensured that the rest of the world will know what will happen should they attack his people. This in turn caused the people to feel safe and protected, and they owe it all to him, which will earn their love." Here Tywin paused to think about his own rule.
He was more respected than loved in the westerlands, but to the rest of the world he is simply feared. Though ruthless, Tywin Lannister is an able and shrewd ruler who brought great prosperity during his tenure as the King's Hand.
He is especially talented at the raising of funds, leading to a persistent jest that he must "shit gold." Many may despise him for how he accomplished things in the past, but no one could argue the peace he had brought them, nor the prosperity they enjoyed under his rule.
The Reynes and Tarbecks were an example of why you don't fuck with Tywin, and the whole world knew it. Not a single member of their houses was spared in their revolt against House Lannister, which reminded most Lords not even affiliated with House Lannister that just because they thought they were strong, don't try to steal from those more powerful than yourself.
Castian had done something similar. The world would forever know the consequences that came with attacking his people, and that he had the power to wipe out your house, and he was more than willing to do it too.
King Robert was foolish enough to spare Balon Greyjoy when he rebelled against the crown, and Lord Eddard Stark even took Balon's heir as his ward. They were too weak to put down a threat to their houses because it wasn't honorable or whatever stupid excuse they told themselves.
"Should we be worried?" Kevan asked, no doubt thinking that there was nothing stopping Castian from coming to Casterly Rock.
"I doubt it. In almost every previous incident, Castian was provoked before he attacked. Attacking his ships was the same as attacking Castian himself, and the Greyjoys learned firsthand why that wasn't a good idea." Tywin answered, smirking as he thought of the fate of House Greyjoy.
He couldn't remember ever feeling this way about someone else, but he saw a sort of kinship in Castian, minus the magic of course.
Both of them did what others thought unthinkable and did what was best for their House. Both were rich, at least as far as Tywin could guess. Both were strong, though in a different sense. Where Will had his magic to back him up in a fight, Tywin was a calculating, intelligent, politically astute, ruthless, and controlling man.
He used his cunning to drive the battle where he wanted it to go, to better suit him. Based on his actions, Tywin could see that Will thought a great deal about what his actions would do to the world, or at least that's what Tywin thought anyway.
Really everything was a spur of the moment thinking on Will's part, doing whatever action he thought best at the time, and though Tywin thought they were smart moves, Will wasn't thinking them out to the degree Tywin was expecting.
"What should we do?" Kevan asked, curious if Tywin had some special plan in play to take advantage of the situation.
"The Iron Isle is nothing to us. We gain nothing by helping them. Let them kill each other so they have no choice but to rely on the crown for protection. We can spread the word about Castian however. Hopefully now Robert will see how pointless it would be to attack the little monster." Tywin said, knowing Robert would have to be a bigger fool than he thought if he still tried to go after Castian.
"What of Oldtown? I know you said to ignore it, but the Maesters of the Citadel are looking for allies of their own against him." Kevan said, not dropping a subject from weeks prior.
Scowling, Tywin answered, "They will find no allies here! If they want to go and get themselves killed, so be it. We will not be the next Greyjoys!"
That was the last he was going to say on the matter, and Kevan knew it. Knowing what he knew now, it made sense why Tywin was so cautious of the man. If he could destabilize an entire kingdom in a matter of days, what could he do to them? There was also the fact that House Lannister had far too much to gain with Castian around.
Tywin was very good at using the information he gathered about the mage to make deals that increased the prestige or wealth of his family.
With the gold mines producing less and less each year, it was good that House Lannister had additional sources of income. It also helped put some of the unused lands to use growing potatoes, which in turn gave the populace more jobs. It was all working out really well for them.
"Do you think it odd that House Tyrell is distancing themselves from the crown?" Kevan asked, bringing up a topic that actually did trouble Tywin.
He had noticed the Tyrells becoming more neutral in the last months. No longer were they jumping to help the crown, and they actively tried to just sit in the back and watch everything unfold around them.
Tywin would have to have been as stupid as Robert Baratheon to not notice such a thing. Of course he had his theories as to why, but nothing could be proven as of yet.
He had long suspected for well over a year now that Castian was harboring the Targaryens, and with the alliance between House Tyrell and Castian, Tywin could see how if they knew of a potential rebellion or take over that they would distance themselves.
It could also be that they were just not trying to step on toes right now, but Tywin couldn't say for sure. If he had more than suspicions, Tywin would be more worried about Castian coming for the throne, but he had no proof that the Targaryens were even with him.
Castian had also never shown any desire for the throne and had never done anything that would have Tywin believe otherwise. He still couldn't figure out everything without a bit more context, but he would know in due time. The best he could do for now is hope for the best and plan for the worst.
"I think the Tyrells know something that the rest of the Seven Kingdoms don't. They're keeping this one to themselves however, as my spies in Highgarden haven't learned anything out of the ordinary. For now, all we can do is make sure the crown doesn't do anything to go against Castian, and if the Citadel does act, make sure we're not a part of it." Tywin explained, wondering why he was the only one who could see the true threat Castian represented.
Both Kevan and Tywin talked well into the evening about matters of importance before they finally retired for the night. For his part, Tywin was quite happy with the way things had turned out, and he was honestly looking forward to what Will did next.
