chapter 22

Ser Kevan Lannister entered the command tent of Tywin Lannister. The tent was planted outside Deep Den. That had been the chosen muster point for the Westerlands to rally around. A second, smaller muster point was planned at the Golden Tooth. It was commanded by the cautious Leo Lefford. The man was unimaginative, but had a good head for logistics. He would have a force of 5,000 to hold the Golden Tooth. As more men mustered, they would trickle under Lord Lefford's command, ultimately bringing the number to 10,000.

"A rider has returned from Ser Addam Marbrand's host. He has crossed the Blackwater without incident."

"Good," Tywin simply replied. There had been some fear that the Riverlands would have anticipated Tywin's rushing to support to King's Landing and prevented a crossing. Fortunately, that did not seem to be the case. Kevan knew Tywin was loath to release 3,000 of his horse in such a frantic manner, but there was little choice. The Riverlands would approach King's Landing from the west and the north, while Stannis threatened it by sea and the Stormlands threatened it from the south.

Kevan knew his brother felt fear, though he hid it completely. His entire legacy was concentrated in one city. All three of his children and all three of his grandchildren were vulnerable. The only support the city had were the Gold Cloaks, a small company of Lannister guards, and whatever the Crownlands could muster. Against the might of the Stormlands and the Tully's, it would not be enough. By having Ser Addam take as many knights and mounted soldiers as could leave on short notice, they could stiffen King's Landing's defenses considerably. It was not just the number, but also the quality.

Kevan had thought an early attack on the city unlikely, with more than a little bitterness. Those two kingdoms had not mustered before Robert's death because it had clearly been Cersei who had arranged the King's assassination. Their enemies had not stolen a march against them because they had not caused this chain of events. Cersei's actions, and who else could it be but his niece, had resulted in the death of his eldest son Lancel. Never in his long history of service to his brother had he been more tempted to leave his service. Tywin had demanded his patience and assured him that all those who had wronged house Lannister, internally or externally, would pay a price.

"How soon will the muster be complete?"

"Another two weeks, Tywin, then we will have 25,000 men under our command with enough supplies to campaign for at least three months. That is without any pillaging. We could wait longer, but it will not increase our numbers significantly, especially if you want Golden Tooth further reinforced."

"Then we march in earnest in two weeks. Depending on where our foes are gathering, we will move toward King's Landing or to deal with the River Lords. It will take time for the Starks to bring their troops south. My preference would be to crush the Tully's first, but if the Stormlands amass their full strength to threaten King's Landing, we will need to deal with them first."

Kevan looked down at the map. "Riverrun will be difficult to siege; I do not see how we could possibly take it before the North arrives."

"If they huddle behind their walls, we can set their lands aflame. If we have time, I suspect we will only be able to feint in that direction. The Vale has yet to stir, but this is likely a ruse. The knights of the Vale will almost certainly respond to Lord Stark and Hoster Tully's plea."

Kevan shook his head. "Is this even feasible, Tywin? I can see us victorious against any two of these houses, but all four? The Crownlands, those that are loyal to Joffrey, can barely muster 10,000 soldiers to our side. And few knights are among them."

Tywin looked at him with his uncompromising green eyes, flecked with gold. "I have worked too hard to secure my legacy to allow for failure. We are better equipped, more disciplined, and have better commanders. By controlling the center of Westeros, we can take them apart piecemeal. We must force battles with our foes, sooner rather than later. After winning our first major victory, free riders and sellswords will flock to our banner by the thousands. If our enemies successfully unite their armies, that will be the time for concern."

Kevan nodded. The strategy was fluid and depended on what the various lords did and where they took their armies. The Reach, Dorne, and Iron Islands had yet to make their side known. It would be critical to win early victories, lest the already numerically-advantaged enemies entice even the still-undecided to join. Technically, the Vale too had yet to decide, but Twyin and Kevan both agreed that it was too much to hope that Lady Arryn would not aid kith and kin.

Keven had delivered his message, and there was much to still organize. He wanted to stay busy. He didn't want to think about what had happened to Lancel. His son, his firstborn. Pushing the bitterness away forcibly, he focused on his work.

***

I had three people to convince, and the first was my Uncle Jaime.

"Absolutely not," Jaime replied to my plan. Tyrion, who was with him, also looked aghast at the idea.

"I've visited Storm's End before; Cortnay Penrose is an honorable man. He will respect a banner of parley, and then I can convince him of our cause."

Jaime did not agree. "He won't; he's already pledged to Stannis. And even if he is honorable, something you shouldn't take for granted, the Stormlands are currently mustering, and likely many of them are at Storm's End. How simple would it be for any of them to pretend there was no parlay. You would be a valuable hostage; the answer is no."

I considered my options and then marshaled my arguments. "It is one thing to be convinced by a letter; it is another when someone is rebutting those words in person. I can vouch for our family. I can make him listen, especially if I have Ser Barristan and Ser Beric by my side."

Before Jaime could shoot me down again, Tyrion spoke up. "All right, my favorite niece, I'll bite. Why would those two help?"

"It is simple. Joffrey foolishly dismissed Barristan from his service. If he were to pledge on his sacred honor that we are Robert's trueborn children, even after he was dismissed from the Kingsguard, they would listen. Ser Barristan can testify that he never saw Cersei act adulterously. He can also testify that father and Cersei consummated their marriage on several occasions."

Tyrion shared a glance with Jaime, and the room grew a bit uncomfortable. That was good; instead of a firm no, now her Uncle Jaime was off balance.

"That's if he's willing after all of this." Jaime muttered.

"A very good point, but I can be persuasive," I retorted.

Tyrion swirled his wine in his cup. "And Ser Beric, who is currently under confinement? How can he help, and why would he help. He's refused to swear fealty to Joffrey."

"I'm glad you asked. From what I've been told, Ser Beric was there when Lord Stark made his demands to exchange his daughter for me. Informing the Stormlords that I was threatened with death while a guest at the Tower of the Hand… it may shed a different light on the events that occurred. This would be coming from a respected Lord of the Stormlands."

Tyrion had a considering look in his eyes. "And how would you convince him to help you with this?"

"I can be very persuasive."

Jaime snorted. "A lot hinges on your ability to persuade. If you are so good at that, go persuade Cersei."

I noticed Tyrion had raised his cup to drink. "Difficult, but maybe if I catch her in a good mood. Do let me know the next time you intend to copulate, and…"

Tyrion turned into a breathing – or well, coughing – fountain, trying to get the liquid out of his airways. I flashed him a smile. Jaime, though, grew pale.

"Myrcella…"

My eyes found his. "It was a jest; she's not been rational lately, so even if I did time our discussion strategically, it would be unlikely to work out well."

"That's not… Myrcella, what I mean to say…"

"Stop. I know, and it is irrelevant right now. Joffrey, Tommen, and myself must be considered trueborn in the eyes of the realm. I honestly shouldn't have made the jape, but the opportunity was too grand to pass up. You owe me. You've thrown the Seven Kingdoms into war, a war we are going to lose unless something drastic happens. I can convince Penrose, and it is he who will have the largest muster as castellan of Storm's End. I've met him, I've dined with him, and I know his character. I can convince at least a portion of the Stormlords to follow me."

This wasn't strictly true – a feast and a brief meeting did not mean I knew the man, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Tyrion had recovered and was looking at me appraisingly. "As my brother says, much depends on said persuasive powers. Ser Barristan, Ser Beric, and Penrose? A tall order."

"Perhaps a test then? If I can convince Selmy and Dondarrian, would that be enough to convince you of my oratorical capabilities?

Tyrion looked at Jaime, who still seemed bewildered.

"I see no harm in trying this, Jaime, we should give her a chance at least." Tyrion said.

Jaime groaned. "Seven Hells, tell me again what exactly you want to do and what you need from me."

I reiterated what I needed. His escorting me to Ser Beric and then Ser Barristan. Thirty mounted soldiers, Red Cloaks, Gold Cloaks, Crownland knights – it mattered not. I wouldn't mind a Kingsguard as well, preferably Ser Arys Oakheart. A crowned stag banner. Oh, and the Hand's signature and seal giving me Storm's End and making me Paramount Lady of the Stormlands.

Jaime seemed to be listening intently, willing to go along, until I got to the last piece.

"Don't be ridiculous; Cersei would never agree to that," Jaime countered.

"You're right, which is why you aren't going to tell her," I replied.

Now it was Jaime who turned to drink heartily from his cup.

"She's the Regent; she can just reverse it."

"Not if she doesn't know about it," I repeat.

Jaime looked confused, and Tyrion barked out a laugh. "Oh, I see," my diminutive uncle said, "You intend to show that letter to the Stormlords. Since Stannis neglected to name you as also base-born, it will add additional legitimacy. Many Stormlords wouldn't mind backing a legitimate child of Robert. In addition, you'll be able to immediately rally them as their leader, without a power struggle on who should command the Stormlords in the absence of a Paramount Lord.

I bobbed my head.

Jaime still looked puzzled. "But it won't be true. Yes, I'm the Hand, but Cersei can overrule me."

Tyrion chuckled. "Oh, big brother, think on it! The Stormlords have pledged themselves to Stannis; if Myrcella can convince them to repudiate that statement and pledge themselves to her," he put his hands up, "yes I know, a big if," he continued, "What will Cersei do? Spit on their allegiance and risk them going back to Stannis? Allow the crown to be embarrassed that their Hand promised something that they could not deliver?"

That got through to him. "This is either pure brilliance or absolute madness. I can't believe I'm even thinking about it. Do you really think you can convince them?"

"Yes. I can do this. Give me what I need, and I will deliver a sizeable portion of the Stormlands to Joffrey's banner."

He sat back, thinking. He looked to Tyrion, who nodded. "Very well, Myrcella, if you can convince Ser Barristan and Ser Beric to assist you… I will provide all that you need."

One down, two to go.

***

The burning of the carvings of the Seven was ill done, in Ned's mind. He held fast to the Old Gods, as did much of the North, but this was wrong. To burn an object that so many of your followers venerated… and for what? To appease Melisandre and her God?

It had already led to death. Ser Hubard Rambton and his sons had tried to defend the sept. Ser Hubard was dead, and Guncer Sunglass had renounced his support for Stannis. He was now locked in a cell.

The strangeness continued as, when the flames died down, Melisandre began preaching of R'hllor and ancient religious prophecies.

"Azor Ahai, beloved of R'hllor! The Warrior of Light, the Son of Fire! Come forth;, your sword awaits you! Come forth and take it into your hand!" Melisandre's voice carried above the wind from the sea.

Stannis Baratheon then marched up and pulled a blade from the wreckage of the Seven. He held the sword high, jade-green flames swirling around cherry-red steel.

"A sword of fire!" Shouted Queen Selyse. Her Uncle, Ser Axell Florent, and others in the crowd took up the call.

Ned watched as Melisandre lifted her hands above her head. "Behold! A sign was promised, and now a sign is seen! Behold Lightbringer! Azor Ahai has come again! All hail the Warrior of Light! All hail the Son of Fire!"

The old Maester of Dragonstone limped up next to Eddard. "Lord Stark, what do you make of this?"

Eddard looked at the man; Cressen was worn and frail, yet determination filled his lined face.

"In the North, some follow the Old Gods, and others worship the Seven. I have never thought it my place to intercede on a man's beliefs."

"Wisdom that I wish all shared. May I speak plainly, my Lord?"

Eddard nodded his assent.

"That woman is evil. She is leading His Grace down a dark path. I have tried to provide him counsel, but he has little use for me these days." Grief tinged his words. "But he respects you; you could steer him away from," he gestured toward the burned wreckage of the Seven, "this."

"I will do what I can, Maester."

"Do all that you can, please." Cressen left him with his thoughts.

Later that day, he met with Stannis to go over their war plans. Stannis had debated whether to attempt to muster all they could and strike immediately for King's Landing. Ned had not liked the idea. He had pointed out that the attack on Robert and on the Tower of the Hand had been preplanned. No doubt, Tywin Lannister had been in position to pounce as soon as word of the success of the plan had reached him. Even though Casterly Rock was further away from King's Landing than Riverrun or Storm's End, he would already be marching.

Instead, he advised to begin smaller while they waited for their full muster. Duskendale was a large port town and a demesne of House Rykker. They, along with much of the Crownlands, had declared for Joffrey. With the forces on Dragonstone, they could take the keep and the port, further preventing resupply of King's Landing. From there, they could crush the small holdings of Rosby and Stokeworth. With access to the sea and sufficient scouts, they could retreat if Tywin showed up with his army. All the while, the Stormlords, River Lords, and the North would begin forming their armies and moving towards King's Landing.

Stannis agreed with the plan. "I will give Melisandre one last night to view her flames; if she does not raise any objections to the plan, we will make preparations to sail."

Ned took the opening. "We need to talk about Melisandre and what happened earlier today."

Stannis tightened his jaw. "Must we?"

"The burning of the religious symbols will not win more support to your cause. It has already cost you one house, minor though it may be; what else will it cost you?" Eddard kept his voice mild.

"They owe me their allegiance; it should not matter what statues or carvings I destroy."

"What is owed and what is given are often two different things, Your Grace. I will speak plainly: if you burn any of the godswood in the way you did those images of the Seven, the North will not take up arms on your behalf."

Stannis was grinding his teeth. "You speak far too calmly of your bannermen's potential treason."

"I will speak to you in earnest and with honesty. You are the King; you must decide what to do with my words."

Stannis pulled out a tiny scroll of paper and threw it on the table. "Counsel me on this then, Stark."

Eddard undid the scroll and read the letter from, he noted, Olenna Tyrell. It was an offer of allegiance in exchange for the marriage of Willas to Shireen and Margaery to Robb. Only, it wasn't an offer but a suggestion that they should reach out to her son, and soon. Olenna wrote that Mace was determined to marry into the royal family, be it the royal family of Dragonstone or the royal family of King's Landing, regardless of her advice to him.

"This is odd, Your Grace. If this were a formal betrothal request, I would advise you to accept immediately. With the manpower and supplies of the Reach, the war will be as good as won. However, Olenna is not the Lord of Highgarden."

"Yes," Stannis replied, voice tight, "but what galls me is what she is outright saying, that the Tyrell allegiance is up for sale. Either they believe my claim is true and Joffrey is a product of vile incest, or they believe he is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

Ned sighed. "Your Grace, I have tried to comport myself with honor, I have taught my children to do the same, but men like Mace Tyrell, Tywin Lannister, and Walder Frey exist. We live in the world that is, not the world we want. After you take the throne, you can set a better example, but until that time, we may have to work with those of lesser honor."

"You would have me reward the Tyrells? Should I not father a son, Mace's grandchildren will inherit the Iron Throne. I would rather reward loyalty. Shireen could be betrothed to your son or Edmure Tully in recognition of prompt fealty."

Eddard looked at Stannis. "It would be better to use your daughter's hand in ways to stabilize the realm. I do not require honors or status; I want for nothing more than to see you crowned and myself returned to the North, to govern my lands and raise my children in peace. If you wish to honor the Tullys, place Edmure on the Small Council, grant them lands from those who do not submit to your rule without battle, or whatever else you may think is best. Shireen, my children, and Edmure Tully should be used to bring more houses to your cause and to then stabilize the Seven Kingdoms."

The King's face was like stone. "I'll consider your words."

Eddard did not judge the time right, but he had to say more. "Your Grace, I urge you to end this talk of Azor Ahai. This will set you at odds with the Septons and many knights across the realm. It may be that Melisandre has power, but that does not mean she can be trusted. Good men died today."

Stannis though would not be swayed. Eddard understood and normally even respected this about him. She had been true to his cause, and as long as she continued to demonstrate her loyalty, Stannis would reward her and make use of her.

***

After my uncle, Ser Barristan was the next one I had to convince. We exited my room to the reception of my guards, who were still at attention.

"Remain here; the princess has duties to see to." The Gold Cloaks looked incredibly nervous but bowed their head.

I gave the shift leader Jaren a smile. "We will be back shortly, Jaren, no cause for concern."

The man flinched and hastily bowed his head. He was one of the jumpier ones. I always tried to remember the names of guards and servants, but that one looked frightened every time I spoke his name. I suppose some people never did get used to guarding royalty, but it did make him easier to recognize.

Barristan was still in the care of the Maesters. Jaime had offered to let him continue to use his room in the White Sword Tower, however Barristan had angrily refused. Instead, he was in another room within the Red Keep, which I suppose was for the better since there were fewer stairs.

"I'll wait outside; my presence will not aid you," Jaime told me.

I agreed and knocked on the door while announcing myself. He bade me inside. Upon entering, I could see right away that many of his belongings were packed. He was resting on his bed, back against the frame, with his wounded leg propped up on pillows.

"How are your wounds, Ser Barristan?"

He looked at me with an assessing gaze before answering. "They are healing, Your Grace. I would wish they would heal more swiftly so I can be gone from this place."

"Where do you intend to go?"

"Pardon, Your Grace, but that is my concern."

I took a seat in one of the other chairs in the room. "That is where you are wrong, Ser Barristan. I believe your place is here, fulfilling your oaths."

His forehead furrowed, "What oaths? I have been discharged from the Kingsguard." He attempted to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he was clearly struggling.

"A most despicable decision of my mother. I do wish to thoroughly apologize for the insults given by my brother as well. You deserve far better from those you have loyally served."

He inclined his head. "It was my duty, and 'twas not your doing." My words in front of the court were what allowed me to approach him this way. The additional friction with my family was a worthy price if I could pull this off.

"I have some thoughts on that. You are a man of honor; please tell me if I am right in my thinking." He was looking at me with curiosity now. "If Bran Stark caused offense in his role as your squire, would you not apologize on his behalf? If you came down with illness and were not able to attend to a function you had promised, and so you sent your squire on your behalf, would he not apologize for your absence?"

"That would be appropriate, yes."

"I feel the same about family: if my brother has caused offense, it is my duty to attempt to make things right as a representative of my family."

"Your point is fair, princess; it was not a condemnation of your apology, just a courtesy so that you know I put no blame on you."

I smiled, allowing my mien to appear less formal and more childish.

"That is good to hear, ser. I have been thinking of how familial honor and obligation intersect. If Joffrey obligated himself to someone, say through pact or oath, and he did not fulfill it, would it not be honorable for his family to attempt to fulfill it?"

Again, his brow furrowed. "Yes, it would; though I am sensing from you this is not a theoretical question. What is your aim, princess."

I looked down. "Am I that obvious, ser? I… I was in the Tower of the Hand. I could have very well died, had it not been for Brienne. The thought of losing my greatest protector, you, has filled me with some dread."

Barristan blinked in surprise before frowning. "You already have a sworn shield, Myrcella, and I have been dismissed from duty."

"You have, and yet you swore oaths to protect the King and by extension the King's family. Joffrey may have released you from that oath, but just as Joffrey's family has an obligation to make right his errors, I would put forth the motion that you have an obligation still to the rest of his family you swore to protect. Please, ser, will you abandon Tommen and me in this dark hour?"

He looked troubled. "The King has released me from those oaths."

I nodded. "He has, and you are under no legal obligation to continue to fulfill oaths that you have been released from. No man or woman would blame you for leaving after being removed from the Kingsguard. However, I would submit to you that there is more honor in adhering to a released obligation or vow than to one you are still bound by."

Barristan was silent for some time. I waited patiently for him to speak; there was no sense in attempting to drown him with more words.

"Myrcella, if we accept your premise, then do I not also have an obligation to protect Stannis?" His voice was low and careful. "Or to protect the Targaryen girl across the Narrow Sea? What if I believe someone other than Joffrey is the rightful one to sit the Iron Throne?"

I leaned back. "This is about the parentage of Joffrey and my uncle's accusation that Joffrey is a bastard."

He looked pained, but he nodded.

"To be honest, I don't believe you truly believe it." This was precarious ground, but I pushed through with as wide-eyed and innocent an expression as I could make. "You knew of those claims while you still wore the white cloak. I could never believe you of all people would continue to serve a King you knew to be false." His eyes widened in shock before narrowing. "I suspect, ser, that it is your anger speaking, and your disappointment in our new King. Yet, you served the Mad King and tolerated all his evils, because honor demanded it. Unjust actions would not be enough to sway you."

The silence after my statement was profound. Then, he let out a heavy breath of air.

"Perhaps, or it may be that I have had more time to consider the possibilities now that I have had nought but time to think." Barristan the Bold looked incredibly uneasy and conflicted.

"Perhaps, but Joffrey is the true-born son of King Robert. He is a callous, cruel, and a childish fool, but still our King." I lied with conviction here, and I think I sold it fairly well. "The idea that Cersei could have an adulterous affair with her own brother and not a soul learned of it, no maid, no groom, no servant, no guard, and not the Master of Whisperers and all his little birds… is preposterous. Tell me true, Ser Barristan, did you suspect anything before my uncle sent his letter?"

"No, but I oft guarded the King, not the Queen."

"Did Robert make sure of his marital rights?"

Barristan frowned. "Not often, especially in the latter days."

"He did though, before my conception, before Tommen's conception, yes?"

"He did, but that doesn't prove anything. The Queen would not be so great a fool as to pass off a child if Robert had not… taken his marital rights around the proper time."

Barristan wasn't a fool, but that was partially why I wanted him.

"Do you believe I am a product of incest as well?" Eye contact was important here for obvious reasons.

"I… I cannot be sure, Your Grace. Your eyes match Robert's while your brothers' do not, so it is possible that you are his one true-born child."

I smiled in gratitude. "It warms my heart to hear you say that, ser. I would wish you to believe both my brothers are true-born; there is truly no evidence to suggest that we are not all Robert's children. Not all children take after their parents. Bran Stark looks nothing like his father; do you believe Catelyn Stark placed horns on Lord Eddard's head?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do we dither here? As a wise Maester once said, extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. Joffrey is my true-born brother; there is no extraordinary evidence to suggest that my mother committed a heinous crime under the very nose of all the Red Keep and somehow went unnoticed for nigh on fifteen years."

The old knight contemplated my words. "If your brother has the sense to listen to you, you would make a fine member of the Small Council, Your Grace. I will ask again, what is your aim here specifically? You wish me to be your sworn shield alongside Brienne of Tarth?"

"Or something like that. I would love for you to be my sworn shield and would feel far more secure about my person. Yet, I have another role in mind for you." I paused, letting my eyes unfocus and look away. "I… have not been raised on noble ideals. Father routinely chose his vices over the course of honor. Mother was filled with spite and spewed venom all my life. I closeted myself with books and texts and learned every scrap of knowledge I could get my hands on. I know the concept of honor, can argue what it is, what it isn't, but I have not lived it. I tell you true, Ser Barristan, I have every ounce of faith in my ability to rule intelligently, but can I rule with honor? I have need of you, ser."

Barristan cocked his head. "Rule? What do you intend?"

"With my Uncle Renly slain and my other uncle attainted, Storm's End would fall to Robert's children. I will be granted Storm's End and paramountcy of the Stormlands." I let my face fall and then solidify firmly. "I intend to rule better than my father. I wish to rule with honor, and I would beg your assistance to show and teach me what that means." I paused and smiled. "And again, yes, also to protect my person."

He considered, for a moment, and then looked up at me. "You honor me with your faith, and I can but repay that honor in kind. Yes, Princess Myrcella, I will advise you and be your sworn shield, from this day to my last day."

And that's two.

Beric proved even easier. What I wanted from him was quite simple. In exchange for traveling to Storm's End and speaking on what he'd seen and heard outside the Tower of the Hand, he was given his freedom.

My Uncle Jaime was quite speechless as he escorted me back to my room. "This is still madness; there's so much that could go wrong."

"You've already agreed to it, uncle; a Lannister always pays his debts. You agreed that if I could convince Ser Barristan and Ser Beric, you would follow through on your part."

He muttered under his breath, and as we came in sight of the Gold Cloaks he asked. "I forgot to ask earlier, but why did Cersei replace the Lannister guards?"

I shrugged. "It wasn't Cersei but Joffrey."

Jaime's green eyes found mine. "Didn't you tell Cersei that you were nearly impaled by a Gold Cloak spear?"

"Yes, and?"

He looked annoyed, and then amused. "Never mind."

The plan was set: in two days, in the dead of night, I would be leaving with 25 guardsmen, sixty horses, Brienne, Ser Beric, Ser Arys, Ser Barristan, a letter proclaiming me the new Lady of Storm's End, and a plan.