a meeting Who: Jaehaerys, Aeria (npc), Rhaeys (npc), Tyrith What: formulating a strategy When: May 2, late evening Where: the queen's chambers Status: Closed log. Rating: PG
Jaehaerys stood at the window, watching the figures moving about in the courtyard below. Maids and their lovers, taking a few stolen moments between dances and distracted chaperones. Not so long ago he'd have been among them, and he wondered idly if Aenyris or Elia were down there now. Perhaps his uncle was- Myrwin had looked quite amused by Lord Stark's sister the other evening.
"Come away from the window," his mother's voice was quiet but strained. Jaehaerys let the tapestry drop back into place and turned to her with a smile. He might once of told her not to worry, but to say it now would be cruel. Instead he bent to kiss her cheek and took a seat across from her at the table.
"Did Polonius speak to you about the reports from Highgarden?" Rhaeys was toying with some shining bauble as he spoke- it looked like a picture bead from Myr, and it was after a moment he recalled it had been Lissan's. Rhaeys' natural daughter had been killed along with her nurse in the plague that had taken the city during his exile. A child, and one of the few bearing the blood of the dragon...
"He did," Jaehaerys answered slowly. "And he thinks Celia Stark was--"
"That does not matter," Aeria waved it aside. "We cannot prove it and more, we cannot spare the time. Selester Tyrell has invested in mercenaries. Again."
"As have I," the voice came from a section of the wall that had just slid away. Jaehaerys' hand was on his sword, even before he recognized the speaker.
Tyrith Lannister stepped out of the passage, brushing dust from his tunic. He bowed to Aeria and Jaehaerys with the due deference but his motions were rushed, his words clipped. "Though I do miss my trusted Tyroshi," he said with a wry smile.
Jaehaerys smirked. "There are days I do as well. His seat was a damn sight more comfortable."
"If Selester has his way, you'll be a sellword again- if we are lucky. Else we will all be in our graves." Rhaeys' voice was deep with grief and bitterness.
"Selester can be isolated, my prince." Aeria reached out to touch her goodbrother's arm. "It is the poison that has taken him which must be dealt with."
"Why not let me take a dozen pyromancers and end this farce, majesty?" Tyrith took a seat, lounging carelessly, if one was not paying attention to the taught set of his jaw or the fact his sword was loose in its scabbard.
"No," the queen said sharply. "You have too much to lose to lead such an excursion- and do you think all the gold in Casterly Rock would keep you safe from the outraged families? Or those who would call for your head?"
Jaehaerys looked from his mother to his father's most trusted friend, to his uncle. "What think you, Prince Rhaeys?"
"Let me do it, Aeria." Rhaeys turned the picturestone in his hand, even without looking at it, a constant movement. His eyes were on Aeria. "Let me be another Blackfyre. What more have I to lose?"
"You have Aenyris," Jaers interrupted him bitterly, ignoring his mother's sigh of annoyance. Bad enough his uncle had run and abandoned his cousin once, that he would do it again...? "She might have died if William Stark had been less vigilant."
"Aenyris does not need me. You are her protector, and she is capable herself."
"No. I will hear no more, Rhaeys." Jaers' voice was hard as iron. "What little of the blood of the dragon is left in this world must remain in it. Tyrith, this is not so simple as burning a single city. We need a more subtle means."
Tyrith shook his head, knowing what the king said was true, but knowing it would not be swift enough. "Let that come later, my king. First let us remove the beast's head, as they tried to do to us. Make an alliance with the Ironborn, or stage some pretext with your uncle's fleet..."
Jaehaerys sat back, studying his Warden of the West in silence. "The kraken is not easily controlled when it is loosed from its cage- what would keep them from reaving your shores if you lowered your guard, thinking they were allies? They have already struck at the Starks' land and soon they'll move south in any case."
"As much as I enjoy the prospect of Ironborn run amok, gentlemen, I think there is an easier answer: Let us give the flowers what they want. Let the garden run wild." It wasn't often Jaehaerys could discern any relation between his mother and her viper brother, but as she smiled now it was clear. Martell eyes- vipers' eyes. "You will have to suffer an attack, my Lord of Lannister. And then you must retaliate."
Tyrith's eyes darkened. "I don't like sacrificing my people to excuse what we know already needs to be done."
"Then find an Ironborn you can trust- or a pirate for that matter." Aeria raised a brow in challenge. "Is there one that covets Arbor gold more than Casterly's?"
"Then let them burn the whole of the Reach."
"And when have the Ironborn ever reaved a single shore? Perhaps you will offer them an alliance," she mocked. "Toria might find Pyke tolerable..."
"You jest at strange times, my queen."
Aeria rolled her eyes, tired of baiting the lion already. "I don't suggest you let a thousand smallfolk die without defending them- but what course else is left?"
"None," Tyrith muttered. "The Tully's won't come to our side if we are seen to attack first, and I'd as soon count on a starving bear to aid me as Baratheon. I said I didn't like the plan, not that I would refuse it."
"The Tullys will help- I'll offer them an alliance and perhaps lower some tax or tariff- there's always something to bait a fish." Jaehaerys poured a cup of wine from the jug on the table and turned the goblet to catch the light as he considered. "Too bad Lord Tully doesn't have any daughters. I could just marry one."
Aeria's head tilted at his words. "No, but he has sons. Offer him Elia as part of the bargain- she brings the loyalty of both Dorne and the Targaryens, and the Saverio traders besides. That prize will catch his imagination."
Jaehaerys took a long drink. "Elia to Riverrun, to catch a fish." He took anothier drink. "But what of the Baratheons?"
"They're as likely to hold to a bargain as a Frey is to offer hospitality," Rhaeys sighed. "But they're in need of ships- I believe your majesties' uncles have been rather harsh in their treatment of ships flying under the stags. Some lingering insult over accusations of piracy by Lord Baratheon I believe?"
"Remind me to thank Sandro," Aeria said with the ghost of a smile. "We may have leverage there with the Baratheons. Did I hear something of an offer of alliance between you?" she turned to Tyrith.
The lord's green eyes sparked with humor. "He'd like to foist that useless daughter of his on one of my sons. I haven't yet decided which of them I favor little enough to agree to it."
"Take your time there, my lord," Aeria laughed. "Only time may tell us where the stags will leap."
"But while we wait, perhaps we could urge the Tyrells along," Jaehaerys mused. He looked at Rhaeys, already regretting his harsh words earlier as another picture formed in his mind. "Let us quarrel, uncle, and see if you gain some new rosy friends."
"Such games as those are dangerous, nephew." Rhaeys' eyes were haunted. "I've played the traitor once- too many times and you might begin to believe it."
"No one but the ignorant think you had aught to do with my husband's murder." Aeria's tone brooked no arguments. "I know where his killer sleeps- in a bed of seven-cursed roses. Would you let him go free, Rhaeys? Do you so easily forget the blood spewing from Paegon's lips?"
Jaehaerys cringed at his mother's words. Tyrith looked away, grief written across his features as clearly as Rhaeys'. Aeria stood, turning away from all of them, the sound of her skirts sweeping the stone loud as thunder.
"Fire and blood, my lords."
"Fire and blood," Jaehaerys and Rhaeys echoed as one.
Tyrith was silent for a moment but bowed his head and spoke in a whisper: "Fire and blood."