Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Location: Crownlands, King's Landing, Red Keep.
Year: 295 AC.
Petyr Baelish I
The Master of Coin for King Robert restrained the urge to hurl one of his delicate glass cups against a wall. Just hours ago, his spies delivered a letter informing him of the beginning of negotiations for a marriage contract between Lady Margaery Tyrell and the heir to the North, Jonothor Stark.
This derailed part of his plans; he had hoped to marry Prince Joffrey to the golden rose of Highgarden, but now that seemed utterly impossible. The Tyrells were not only negotiating with the wealthiest, most powerful, and influential kingdom, but any attempt by the crown to offer a better deal would be problematic.
"Damn Cersei and her damn pride," he growled angrily, cursing the foolish queen and her short-sighted belief that the Lannisters were the most powerful family. Truth be told, Petyr was well aware of the power held by the Starks and the accomplishments they had accumulated throughout history:
1) A dynasty of over 8000 years.
2) The most powerful army in the world.
3) Dominant economy.
4) Alliances with the Iron Bank.
5) Trade agreements with Yi Ti, Ashai by the Shadow.
And many more if sailor's tales were to be believed. Petyr envied that prestige, coveted it above all else. During Robert's Rebellion, he had tried by all means to arrange a marriage agreement between himself and Princess Lyanna, claiming he did not care about her disgraced state; it turned out to be an unwise decision as the Crown Prince Brandon challenged him to a duel for the honor of his sister, the Maid of Winterfell.
Defeated, Petyr was brutally humiliated, spared only by Catelyn's pleas. After that, he returned to the Fingers with his blood boiling. When the war ended, he approached Lysa Tully, now Arryn, to gain positions through her husband Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. That's why he has now become the Master of Coin.
In the seven years he has held the position, he has uncovered many secrets: the queen siring bastards with her twin brother, the king lamenting being denied the hand of Princess Lyanna after the massacre of Ellia Martel and her son Aegon, and Petyr's personal favorite, Lord Renly Baratheon preferring the company of Ser Loras Tyrell to his betrothed Lady Lyra Redwyn.
"Lord Baelish," one of his guards knocked on the door and entered, gesturing for him to speak, and he obeyed, a twisted pleasure running down his spine with the action. "The Hand has called for a meeting of the Small Council."
Baelish did not deign to respond and simply left his room. He hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep to the chambers of the Small Council, near the throne room.
Inside, some members were already present. Ser Meryn Trant, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, swaggered around the room in his golden armor and white cloak; the old Jon Arryn frowned at some scrolls in front of him; Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers, maintained a placid smile, looking around with his bald head shining. Lord Stannis, the Master of Ships, on the other hand, kept a stony gaze and appeared constipated.
"My lords," Petyr greeted each of them with a smile, took his seat where required, and prepared to wait. "I hope this day treats you all well."
"Quite well indeed, my lord," Varys maintained his placid expression as he returned the courtesy.
"My Lord Hand," the Master of Coin drew the old man's attention. "What troubles you so much on this splendid day?"
"Worrisome news, Master of Coin," Jon Arryn gave a short and direct answer but did not go into further detail.
Baelish understood it was time to keep silent, which he did for not much longer because King Robert entered the council chamber followed by Grand Maester Pycelle and the Master of Laws, Lord Renly Baratheon. The king staggered clearly drunk with sleeping tonics, his large belly swaying with each step; he slumped at the head of the table in his chair where he quickly started drinking from a nearby cup.
"Well, what is it?!" he bellowed, dragging out the words. "What has happened in my kingdom that requires my attention?!"
"Lord Varys has reported on the beginning of negotiations between the Reach and the North," the Hand of the King explained the reason for his displeasure. At the words of his pseudo-father, Robert flushed with anger in an intense crimson red.
"And what the hell do I care about what those damned dragon lovers do?!" the king roared, everyone in the Small Council grimaced at the king's mood. Baelish, on the other hand, smiled at the behavior.
"Yes, I have heard about the matter," Petyr spoke sweetly, showing he was aware of the issue. "As I understand, negotiations have begun to draft the contract."
"I fear your news is outdated, Lord Baelish," the Master of Whisperers gave a placid smile. "My little birds inform me that a mutual agreement has been reached, and a caravan is preparing to depart from Highgarden to the North. Lady Margaery travels in it, who will be hosted for two years in Winterfell to learn all that is required of her as the future queen of the North."
"Oh... They're going to teach her how to spread her legs correctly," Renly, Pycelle, and Baelish laughed at Meryn Trant's comment.
"Robert, we must bind the Reach to the crown as quickly as possible," Jon Arryn, always the voice of reason, advised.
"Ah... And which lady do you propose to condemn to suffer with the dragon-loving shit?" Robert asked irritably.
"Lady Mya of Dragonstone is of marriageable age, she can be betrothed to Lord Willas Tyrell..."
"I WILL NOT MARRY MY NIECE TO A DAMN DRAGON LOVER!" the king did not allow that line of thought. Stannis looked at his brother with resentment; that match was very convenient for him, but once again his brother dishonored him.
"Something must be done," Jon Arryn remained unfazed by the outburst. "With this marriage, the Tyrells not only have the most powerful army behind them but also the strongest economy and the largest trading network in the world."
"Not to mention that the Targaryen princesses are wards of the North," Baelish made sure to add fuel to the fire.
"Thank you, Lord Baelish," the old man thanked his compatriot from the Vale. "If they get their way, it is possible that the new queen in the North may convince her husband to crown Raenys Targaryen and place her on the throne with one of the queen's brothers as her consort."
"Send a raven to that frozen wasteland," Robert growled dangerously. "Demand the hand of one of the two princesses; the Starks will be happy to have one of the pups as queen."
"It will be done, Your Grace," Pycelle nodded and hurried off to inform the queen.
"Is that all?" the king asked, annoyed.
"I'm afraid not," Jon Arryn shook his head. "The Martells have initiated a trade agreement with the North. I fear that is another kingdom we must appease through marriage. I would suggest..."
"Well, it's good that that's all," the king decided to call it a day and retreated back to his prostitutes and wine.
Baelish also left the council chamber after the king, heading to his office. It didn't take him long to reach it, and he immediately began to write a letter. He needed to accelerate his plans and secure mercenaries to attack Slaver's Bay under the banner of the Direwolf.
Location: Beyond the Twins
Year: 295, 7th month
Margaery Tyrell II
Margaery looked at the lands of the Neck with curiosity. It had been about half a moon since they were on the road, and the sight of so many new places never ceased to fascinate her. When the North sealed a marriage contract within less than a week, she was invited to Winterfell to learn from Princess Lyanna what was necessary to fulfill her role as queen in the North. Her father took it as an insult, but reluctantly accepted this course of action at Lady Olenna's insistence. Thus, Margaery, Olenna, Loras, and their cousins Mynissa and Elody accompanied them on their way to the northern kingdom.
"What are the most important banners in the North?" Elody, a beautiful fourteen-year-old with chestnut curls, almond-shaped eyes, and a delicate face, asked while flipping through one of the books they brought to study.
"Huh?" Margaery intelligently uttered before reconnecting her brain with the question. "The main banners of the North are: in the far north, in the Valley of Thenn, there's the Thenn family; in the northern lands of the Enchanted Forest are the Guderians; the Frostfangs are ruled by the Wolf family; south of the Enchanted Forest, the Bones rule; the Giantsbane family has settlements in Storrold's Point. The Wall is a great structure that divides the kingdom of the North into two sections, with three main families ruling those lands: House Belaerys stationed at Castle Black; the Lotbrocks at Eastwatch; and the Iskars at Nightfort. The lands south of the Wall are fifteen regions: Brandon's Gift is guarded by House Queen; New Gift or Rhaenyra's Gift are lands ruled by the Targaryens of the North; the Umbers' lands are ruled by the Umbers; the Grey Cliffs belong to the Karstarks; the Bismarks settle in the Lonely Hills; the Frosty Mountains are led by the Wulls; the Wolfswood is administered by the Forresters; Sea Dragon Point is the seat of House Rand; the Rocky Shore belongs to the Oakshields; the Rills are ruled by the Ryswells; the Barrows are of the Dustins; the Broken Branch is led by the Manderlys; the Neck is guarded by House Rose to the north, while to the south of the Neck, in the swamp, the Reeds reign, and on Cape Kraken, the Glovers settle. The Northern Isles are four: Skagos is ruled by the Rommels; the Three Sisters are administered by the Lauftens; Bear Island belongs to the Mormonts, and the Iron Islands belong to the Greyjoys."
When she finished, Margaery was slightly panting and her throat felt scratchy. She was grateful they only asked about the main banners and not all the houses of the North; the girl didn't think she would finish before reaching the canal.
"Name the banners of the main houses and their words," Mynissa didn't spare her cousin and immediately asked.
"Um... The Thenns have a white field with a spear, their words are 'Ever Vigilant.' The Guderians have a white field with two crossed femurs, their motto is 'Like Lightning.' The Wolfs have a white field with a red direwolf, their words are 'Dark Words.' House Bones has a white field with a red skull, their words are 'Shield Mice.' House Giantsbane has a white field with a bloodied double-edged axe, their words are 'We Are the North.' House Belaerys has a black field with a golden roaring dragon, their words are 'Always Feared.' House Lotbrock has a black field with a white raven, their words are 'We Prevail.' House Iskar has a black field with a silver northern shield, their motto is 'Begin My Watch.' House Queen is a golden queen's crown on a black field, their words are 'For the Queen.' House Targaryen of the North has a red three-headed dragon on a white field, and their words are 'Burn and Purify.' The Umbers have a red field with a roaring giant, their words are 'Mighty, Immovable.' The Karstarks have a black sigil with a waving white sun, their motto is 'The Winter Sun.' House Bismark has a green sigil with a hunting knife stuck in a skull, their motto is 'Drink Their Blood.' The Wulls' family crest is a snowy mountain on a gray background, they don't have an official motto because they are a clan, but it is commonly said 'Mine is the Mountain.' The Forresters bear a black field with a white ironwood tree and a black sword in the middle of the trunk, their motto is 'Iron Forged in Ice.' The Rand family has a yellow field with a gray fist, their words are 'My Patience, My Virtue.' House Oakshield is a gray field with a silver oak, their motto is 'Our Oath.' The Ryswells have an orange field with a black horse with a red mane, their motto is 'Thoroughbred.' The Dustins have a yellow field with a black crown between two rusted axes, their words are 'The Fury of Winter.' The Manderlys bear a triton with dark green hair, beard, and tail, carrying a black trident on a green-blue background, their words are 'Faith of My Ancestors.' House Rose is a silver field with a bouquet of blue winter roses and green stems, their motto is 'We Are the Shield of the North.' House Reed has a lizard-lion on a gray-green field, their motto is 'In the Shadows.' The Glovers have an iron fist on a gules field, their motto is 'The Strength of Winter.' House Rommel has a black field with three sapphires, their motto is 'Free and Wild.' House Mormont is a dark green forest and light green sky with a threatening black bear, their words are 'Here We Stand.' House Lauften is a skull with two crossed swords on a white field, their motto is 'And Death as a Flag.' Finally, the Greyjoys have a black sea with a golden kraken, their motto is 'We Do Not Sow.'
Margaery sighed and coughed as she caught her breath. Many of those words seemed epic, striking, and noble to her, but others sent shivers down her spine.
"You did well," Elody praised with a wide smile, dimples showing. "Does it mention the royal family?"
"Do my cousins enjoy my suffering?" Margaery dramatized, and the three laughed, but quickly quieted under Lady Olenna's gaze. The future queen of the North cleared her throat and began speaking despite the dryness in her throat. "Currently, there are two generations of Starks. The older generation consists of Prince Eddard and Bejen Stark, and Princess Lyanna, who acts as the queen mother. The three are children of the late kings Rickard and Lyarra Stark. The younger generation includes, from Prince Eddard and his wife Princess Ashara, Princes Jonothor, Robert, Brandon, Rickon, and Kayle, and Princesses Sansa, Arya, and Elia. From Prince Benjen and his wife Princess Sasha Belaerys, there are the twins Oak and Tarin, and finally, there's Lyarra Snow, daughter of Princess Lyanna."
The four women grimaced when the name of the bastard was mentioned. No one understood how they could proudly announce such a stain on the family. For the rest of the day, the younger girls whispered about what awaited them in the North, whether it be illiterate savages, blood cultists, and pagan barbarians or an empire that many books claimed rivaled Valyria.
"In a few hours, we'll reach the canal, my Ladies," one of the guards announced through the carriage window. They all crowded to see the North's shield; they wanted to see if the stories about this fortress were true.
Exactly an hour later, the castle came into view, and Margaery and her cousins gasped in awe. Moat Cailin was a monster: towering walls, at least 95.5 feet tall (about 30 meters), with twenty towers just at the front facing the canal. Each tower had two scorpions, although Margaery didn't understand why they had a metal crest. In front of the gate, the Winter Rose waved in the wind.
"It's no wonder all the armies from the south broke against this monstrosity," Lady Olenna admitted in awe.
"Oh, gods, the canal!" Mynissa exclaimed, looking down. Margaery followed her gaze and gasped too. The canal was enormous, at least 160 feet (50 meters) wide, and the bridge was a drawbridge, with a large column in the center supporting both parts of the bridge.
"The Starks are bloody geniuses," Olenna said, lost in thought, undoubtedly already plotting ideas for Margaery to take control of the North above the royal family.
They descended from the carriage, finding the Rose family already waiting in front of the main entrance to the keep. Margaery counted three heads belonging to children aged four, seven, and ten; the youngest were boys, and the eldest was a girl. Finally, there were three older individuals. A boy of about fourteen with black hair, brown eyes, and a pleasant face, wore boiled leather armor with patterns embroidered in the shape of howling wolves. And a couple who carried the Rose family banner over them.
Belatedly, Margaery realized it was the woman who stood in the center, followed by the man, and finally their children from oldest to youngest. At the end of the line stood the boy who didn't share their features.
"Welcome," the woman spoke courteously but with a certain edge to her tone.
"It's an honor to be received in your home, Lady Rose," Loras, Margaery's brother, replied to her greeting. The young Tyrell responded to the greeting and then pointed to his companions. "Allow me to introduce my grandmother Lady Olenna Tyrell, my sister Lady Margaery Tyrell, and my cousins Lady Elody Tyrell and Lady Mynissa Fossoway."
Pointing to each of them, the Fossoway family made a gesture of acknowledgment to each, and to Margaery, they inclined a little more, recognizing her future position. Loras's sister looked confused as they were greeted with caution, and she, especially, was not recognized beyond a slightly deeper greeting.
"Well known, Lord Tyrell, my Ladies," Lady Rose greeted respectfully. "Allow me to introduce my husband Lord Desmond Cerwyn and my children Katrina, Dimitri, and Lando."
Each one nodded when named but nothing more.
"Welcome to the North, my Lord, my Ladies," the boy at the end of the line stepped forward a few paces but only nodded his head. "On behalf of my brother King Jonothor XVII of House Stark, or Robert Stark, I extend to House Tyrell the hospitality of the North with the hope that you uphold our laws and good faith."
The entire Reach contingent tensed at his words; such a threat delivered with a friendly face was quite terrifying. Even the ladies momentarily stopped thinking about how handsome the prince was.
"I did not expect to find the crown prince of the North awaiting our arrival, Your Majesty," Olenna greeted with a veiled needle, but all southerners caught it: 'If you're the prince of the North, why do you allow them to place you at the end of the line?'
"Forgive me if I caused confusion, my lady," the prince smiled condescendingly. "In the North, guests always stand behind the family ruling the fortress."
Olenna shivered; no one had ever confronted her directly until this prince, who not only answered her but also threatened her twice, always with a smile on his face.
"But let's not linger in the courtyard too long," the prince gestured to the Lady of the Fossoway. "Lady Katharina has prepared rooms for the family and quarters for your men."
"If you follow me," the woman in question gestured for them to follow her while Lord Desmond led the soldiers.
"They are dangerous," the grandmother paced back and forth in her granddaughter's room. Loras stood in front of the sealed door, alert for anyone trying to listen behind it, and Margaery looked worriedly at her grandmother, who was pacing again. The old woman continued undisturbed with her diatribe, "He threatened so freely that it's scary, and unlike other lords, he wasn't afraid to confront me in defense of his banner men. He's not impulsive; that much is clear. In a welcoming speech, he threatened his guests to abide by the laws of his kingdom. And when I tried to provoke him, he practically said, 'this is the North, we're different here, get over it.'"
The siblings looked at each other, worried. Their grandmother walked back and forth without paying them any mind and muttered her concerns.
"The most disturbing fact was how they were waiting for our arrival," Margaery knew how troublesome it was to wait for guests; sometimes they were late, and other times they arrived earlier than expected. But them being aware of their arrival only indicated that they were more than prepared for their arrival. Their group was followed by men from the North who periodically reported their location, "And the children training is terrifying. The southern part of the Neck knows so little about the North that we call them savages. Robert Stark is the brother of the king. We need to know if he's playing for the throne of the North and how much support he has."
Margaery felt uncomfortable seeing how her grandmother was already planning to murder her betrothed if said betrothed's brother was a better bet.
"Someone's coming," Loras interrupted, listening near the door. Quickly, everyone took relaxed postures, with Loras still at the door acting as his sister's guard, and Olleana brushed her granddaughter's hair.
There was a knock on the door, and they allowed the servant to enter. She was a girl with a long and ungraceful face, polite and never flinching under Lady Olleana's disdain.
"Lady Rose informs that the meal will be served in a few moments. As honored guests, she awaits you in the dining room before the servants," with a final curtsy, the girl left the room without waiting to be dismissed.
"And the servants are shameless," Olleana muttered, annoyed.
Ignoring her, Loras hurriedly left to prepare, and Margaery followed suit, calling her cousins to brush their hair. By their grandmother's recommendation, they deliberately delayed because of the insult of being summoned when they were the guests.
In no time, they were all walking led by a designated servant. The hall was lit with candles and candelabras; large tables left a central corridor to the high table where the Lords of the Fossoway ate alongside the prince. Seeing them, Robert Stark stood up, and silence reigned in the hall with everyone looking at the prince or at the newcomers.
"Brothers and sisters of the North," he spoke with a smile, "I would like all of us to raise a toast to Lady Margaery Tyrell and her family present here, may her presence in the North be pleasant and comfortable... To the future Queen Margaery."
"To the future Queen Margaery!" everyone stood up and raised their glasses, shouting in her honor. Margaery's face was red with embarrassment, not because she minded the praise and the toast in her name, but because of the veiled insult and the clear reprimand for their tardiness. For the first time in her life, the golden rose of Highgarden found herself cursing her grandmother in her mind.
Location: North Kingdom, Moat Cailin, North Yard
Year: 295, month 7
Olleana Tyrell I
The elderly Queen of Thorns watched as her granddaughter and her ladies-in-waiting entered the carriage; the Stark prince was nowhere to be seen, and that made her nervous. Since she met the boy, he hasn't stopped humiliating the Tyrells. The worst part was that his behavior was so elegant and considerate that only years of enduring the disdain of his banner men had allowed her to recognize each of the insults.
"It's good that you're ready to leave," the voice from the source of her recent headaches spoke. She turned to see him, and her breath froze in her mouth, for before her stood the most terrifying creature she had ever seen. It was a wolf, but too large to even call it that, with an imposing nine feet and ten inches, he was as tall as the carriage they were traveling in, of a dark gray and white color, very cruel blue eyes, and teeth as sharp as hunting knives. "Allow me to introduce you to my mount, Greywind."
Olleana didn't wait any longer to let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness take hold of her body, vaguely aware of her grandchildren's screams.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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