"The North declaring itself independent! What were they thinking?" Willas looked utterly taken aback by the news from the largest kingdom of Westeros.
"I think they were thinking 'this is the perfect opportunity to leave the quarrelling southerners to their wars and live our lives in peace'." Olenna said with a smirk.
"Grandmother!"
"What?" Olenna posed a challenging look at her grandson, "This is what we are – a bunch of quarrelling children over petty grudges and thrones. That's what we always were."
"Don't you realise what this means, grandmother?"
Another softer voice joined their conversation, which was none other than her favourite granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell.
"What don't I see, granddaughter?" Olenna looked curiously at her.
"The North going independent means they won't support Aegon when he raises his banners." said Margaery.
"It also means the North won't support Stannis Baratheon or Viserys Targaryen. And that leaves us with a unique opportunity."
"Didn't you once say the marriage between Princess Arianne and Harrion Stark would pave the way for the most powerful alliance in Westeros? Now, you're claiming that the North going independent is an opportunity for us. Which is it, grandmother?" Willas asked skeptically.
Willas was ever the cautious one, advocating for neutrality rather than tying themselves to a cause when the strengths of all claimants remained nearly the same.
"Because the marriage will still happen, dear grandson." Olenna said with utter confidence. "The Martells will push for the marriage between their princess and the Black Wolf as soon as possible."
"Why? The North had already declared itself independent. I doubt Doran Martell believes he can reverse the decision of the North by giving them his daughter." Willas said sceptically.
"You forget Dorne itself was once bound through marriage to the Iron Throne. There are ways to bind the North to the Iron Throne once we make your sister the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Olenna said with a pointed look at her grandson.
It took Willas a moment to realise the subtle meaning behind her words, but when he did, his eyes widened with disbelief.
"You cannot mean to imply…" Willas trailed off with shock.
"At least you're not as slow as your father." Olenna said with a roll of her eyes, "Yes, I mean to ask for Sansa Stark's hand for you, grandson."
"What makes you think the Starks will even consider such a match? If House Stark means to keep the North independent, they won't bind themselves to more Great Houses from the south."
"Indeed. But I won't be asking Eddard Stark to betroth his daughter. Instead, we have a common cause with House Tully, and it'll be Lord Hoster who sees the advantage in this alliance." Olenna said with a smile that sent shivers down Willas and Margaery's spines.
"The Florents." Willas guessed.
"The Florents are not just a threat to us but a threat to House Tully. The Lannisters are led by a drunk whoremonger dwarf with their gold and strength in arms so weakened a knightly house could defeat them. The rest of the Westerland lords have suffered the ravages of war and the penalty imposed by Stannis Baratheon, leaving them impoverished. This leaves only the Florents of Lannisport and the Leffords of Golden Tooth as major powers in the region."
"You mean to support House Lefford to wrest control of the Westerlands from House Lannister and Florent."
"Mean to?" Olenna raised a brow in amusement, "The offer has already been made, and Lord Hoster, ever the man to exploit every opportunity to elevate his house, has accepted our aid in ridding himself of any opposition to House Lefford. He wishes to leave a lasting legacy and hopes to see his son command both the Riverlands and the Westerlands."
"However, Hoster Tully cannot compel the North to return to the Seven Kingdoms. I doubt he holds the ability to change Eddard Stark's mind." Willas expressed his doubts at the bold move his grandmother made and her assumptions.
"It's true that Lord Tully does not have the authority to promise us a betrothal to Sansa Stark. However, he certainly can advocate on our behalf. Besides, there are other ways to ensure the North returns to the fold once Aegon claims the throne."
"You seem too certain Aegon can claim the throne, grandmother. I remind you that you're placing your faith in an untested boy against a seasoned commander like Stannis Baratheon."
"Oh, there is no doubt Stannis Baratheon is a dangerous man with an army behind him. But he is no man to gather allies, grandson. Look at him now. In a few months, the man lost the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North," said Olenna.
"He has also lost Dragonstone. It won't be long before King's Landing itself gets attacked." said Margaery.
"It doesn't matter what we think might happen. If the situation is favourable, why hasn't Aegon moved against the Baratheons?" Willas asked, sceptical of the long wait and ever the critic of this long period of inaction.
"There are plans afoot, grandson. You'll understand soon enough." Olenna said, dismissing her with a wave of her hand.
Olenna had to admit she had also been troubled by Martells' inaction. But now, she could see the wisdom in waiting for all their enemies to fight each other and weaken themselves. When the conflict started, Stannis Baratheon clearly held the strongest position. But now, that strength was absent, and in its stead, Stannis barely had the support of the Narrow Sea lords, the Westerlands, and the Reach. The only kingdom that owed Stannis any loyalty was the Stormlands.
'But not for long.' Olenna mused.
She was not blind to the schemes of those wily Dornishmen. They were using Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen as bait to take Stannis's attention. The recent word they received from the capital suggested the success of this strategy. After all, recalling Renly Baratheon from Storm's End would deprive the Stormlands of a leader. Even Lord Swann was absent from the Marches, depriving the region of an experienced lord at a crucial moment.
Now, it had to be seen whether Aegon Targaryen would begin his campaign into the Stormlands this month.
'It doesn't matter whether the Targaryen boy starts his campaign this month. House Tyrell must move against the Florents before the end of this month.' Olenna mused.
******
Hoster chuckled, watching his grandson run around his solar while servants chased after him. The birth of his grandson, Kermit Tully, was a great relief to his ailing heart. In his grandson, he saw a much brighter future for the Riverlands. Already, his grandchildren in the North were bringing much prestige to House Tully with their prodigious talent in governance and warfare. He hoped Kermit would also be fortuitous and receive the blessings of the gods, Old and New, to leave a lasting legacy.
He thanked the gods for making Tywin Lannister's children start a war in the south. It provided his house the unique opportunity to spread their influence into the rich mountains of the Westerlands. With his daughters marrying into the Vale and the North, the eastern and northern borders of the Riverlands were secure. Now, with his son taking a Lefford as wife, he secured the western borders of the Riverlands.
Hoster was disappointed when Lord Leo Lefford was not named the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands after Tywin was defeated in battle. As a man with a daughter as his heir, he hoped the title would be inherited from Leo Lefford to the children of Alysanne Lefford. It was one of the primary reasons he happily obliged to the betrothal arranged by Eddard Stark for his son. It was a good match and a wise choice in his eyes. And now, that marriage was about to bear fruit for the Riverlands as well.
Hoster envisioned a century of peace for the Riverlands, with Tully blood ruling the North, the Vale and the Westerlands. The Iron Throne was now at its weakest, and in the coming years, no matter who won the throne, it'd further weaken. Therefore, Hoster considered it a necessity that the Westerlands come under Leo Lefford and, in turn, be inherited by his grandson. He was prompted to think this way only after his goodson declared himself the King in the North.
Even though it was Eddard Stark who wore the crown, Hoster knew the real power lay in the hands of his grandson, Harrion Stark. That one was all Tully, despite looking more like a Stark. One look at his grandson, and he could see the ambition and plans lurking behind those stormy grey eyes.
'A trout in mind with the pelt of a wolf, that one.' Hoster thought fondly of his most famous grandson.
His hand gripped the cane tightly, which was made from the finest ironwood and had a gold handle adorned with the finest sapphire gems—a gift he had received from his grandson on his namesday. Using the cane, he pulled himself up and stood over the sprawled map of the Westerlands on the table.
His gnarled hands rested on the oaken table while his eyes ran over the map of Westeros unfurled before him. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over the aged parchment, the inky outlines of mountains, rivers, and strongholds seeming to shift like restless spectres. The Westerlands lay before him, the land of golden lions waiting to be tamed by the trouts.
The door to his solar opened abruptly, and his brother Brynden walked in with a displeased look. Hoster observed his brother's face shift to one of happiness when he plucked Kermit off the ground.
"You are one slippery trout, aren't you, lad?" Brynden rumbled with laughter while Kermit broke into peals of laughter.
"Take my grandson to Lady Alysanne." Hoster ordered.
"Yes, milord."
The servant was quick to collect Kermit from Brynden and leave in quick order.
"I see you've returned promptly. Thank you, brother." Hoster said, turning away from the glaring eyes of his brother to focus on the map before him.
"I don't know what you did to convince Lysa to relieve me of my post at the Bloody Gate. Whatever it is you need me for, know that I…" Brynden began to protest but was cut off unceremoniously.
"You give me too much credit, brother. I did not ask Lysa to relieve you of your post. The innumerable ravens I sent her remain unanswered to this day. If I had any ability to convince her of something, little Robyn would've been playing with Kermit upon your arrival."
This time, Hoster had no qualms about staring his brother straight in the eye as he spoke the truth.
"Though I'll admit that your dismissal has become a most welcome boon because I have a pressing need for your support."
"The Westerlands?" Brynden stared at the map on the table with a raised brow.
"Indeed." Hoster said shortly, not explaining anything further.
There was no need to say anything more because his brother was a smart man who could deduce what he wanted.
"You're pushing for it then." Brynden said, taking a deep breath before eyeing Hoster keenly. "You wouldn't dare move so boldly in defiance of the Iron Throne without assurances of support from a powerful ally. Who is it?"
"We're not the only ones disgruntled by the happenings in the Westerlands. House Lannister is weak, and in their weakness, House Florent is gaining strength in the region. Their hold over Lannisport has enabled the foxes to establish considerable influence in the region in a short time. This cannot be allowed to continue." Hoster said firmly.
"So, the Tyrells made you a bargain then." Brynden guessed aptly.
"The roses of Highgarden are not blind to see where the ambition of House Florent ultimately leads. They're rightly worried the Florents might soon claim Highgarden. They want to put a stop to them now before they grow too powerful."
"And you think the likes of Mace Tyrell could be trusted?" Brynden said with disapproval.
"I trust in their fear of House Florent's ambitions." Hoster answered honestly.
"Even weakened, the Lannisters are not a foe to be taken lightly. Casterly Rock has stood for centuries, its walls unconquered until your grandson proved otherwise. Even if their armies are scattered and their wealth has been significantly reduced, their name still holds meaning in the region." Brynden cautioned.
"You mean to say a drunken dwarf can rally the Westerlands to his side?" Hoster said with a scoff.
"Have you forgotten you'll be defying the king? You'll be launching a rebellion all for the sake of naming House Lefford the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. Even if you prevail, you'll have accomplished nothing but incur the wrath of Stannis Bara…" Brynden slowly halted as realisation finally set in when he saw his brother was the least bit bothered by the prospect of earning the ire of the Baratheon dynasty.
"You… you mean to…" Brynden spluttered as he came to a sudden realisation
"Even a little child can see Stannis Baratheon is not going to hold on to his throne for too long. The Tyrells won't act against the Florents if they don't have allies, and I suspect Dorne will move against the Stormlands. The North has already declared their independence, and the Vale of Arryn has isolated themselves, thanks to my daughter. The Narrow Sea lords have joined Viserys Targaryen, and the Crownland lords remain watchful, their loyalties suspect."
"Even if Stannis fails and someone else ascends the throne, they many not necessarily agree with the Leffords holding the Westerlands." Brynden pointed out.
"You're right to think so, brother."
Just then, maester Vyman entered his solar with a small roll of parchment in his hand.
"A raven from Avalon, my lord." said the maester before handing it over to Hoster.
Hoster broke the seal and read its contents with a growing smile.
"You spoke of this to Harrion?" Brynden hissed, displeased by his brother's manipulations.
"Ha! You underestimate the boy, brother. It was he who contacted me, informing me about what the Tyrells were planning. My grandson has at his disposal an extensive spy network capable of even infiltrating Highgarden."
Brynden cast a long look at his brother, hoping to discern the truth, but all he got were more questions.
"What are you planning, brother?" Brynden asked finally, giving up trying to understand his brother's plans.
"You may rest easy, brother. For once, I'm not the one planning everything. I'm an old man, and I know my limits. There are younger minds at work here." Hoster said with a grin.
"Harrion." Brynden breathed.
"He says his fleet has begun the assault on the Iron Islands. Soon, the Manderly fleet will cross the Sunset canal and join the fight. That'll be the signal for us."
"Signal to what?" Brynden asked with trepidation.
"The signal to invade." Hoster said shortly. "I need you to gather the best of our knights and sweep the Riverlands for bandits. Take Edmure with you. If anyone asks, you're merely doing your duty as a knight to keep the roads safe, but make sure to stay visible to the Riverlords."
"As you wish, brother." Brynden agreed reluctantly despite his concerns.
******
Harry smiled in satisfaction at the latest reports from his spies in the Reach. Daro, his chief spy, had worked tirelessly to buy or coerce some of the servants in Highgarden to do what they considered a most innocent act. All the servants had to do was place some fancy, colourful rocks in several locations throughout the castle. Those rocks, charmed with the most advanced runes and listening charms, kept Highgarden a treasure trove of information. His spies had done the same to most of the Great Houses, keeping them under constant observation and scrutinising every conversation.
Charmed quills recorded the conversations, and a group of dedicated, learned men and women extracted valuable information from the entire pile of parchments. It was a sound way of gathering valuable and accurate information without compromising any spies or tipping off his enemies. It was the same tool in conjunction with the all-seeing table, which allowed him an overwhelming advantage over his enemies.
The uncertainty surrounding Aegon's true parentage made him hesitant to act too harshly against the boy as a favour to Jon. But that doesn't mean he'd allow Aegon Targaryen to sweep in and claim southern Westeros that easily. He had slightly modified his plans to rope in the Riverlands and the Westerlands under the Northern crown. It was a tall task to complete, but House Stark now possessed the strength and economic might to accomplish something audacious like that. Originally, he had only wanted the Fair Isle as part of his campaign to take possession of the Sunset Sea using the Avalonian fleet.
However, his uncle's marriage with Alysanne Lefford was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was fortunate that his grandfather was an ambitious man and saw the Iron Throne as a lost cause. The man was pragmatic enough to know where the winds were blowing. Harry found himself respecting his grandfather more and more these days for being an able administrator and a man of great political acumen.
Harry set aside the reports on his table and settled himself against the balcony of his solar. From there, he had a good vantage point to observe his war galleys engaged in combat practice in the sea. The soft footsteps and gentle rustle of silk sheets sounded behind him, alerting Harry to a guest on his balcony. Not a moment later, he felt a comfortable warmth settle behind him, hugging him with her slender arms.
"I was meaning to ask, what're they doing out there?" Alaenera asked, resting her head against the back of his shoulder.
"New recruits training to board an enemy ship." Harry answered, closing his eyes and revelling in the warmth of the body pressed against his back.
He could feel that Alaenera was naked except for a sheer silk sheet wrapped around her body.
"I thought the fleet had already set sail?"
"They did. That doesn't mean there is no shortage of enemies. It's better to be prepared." he whispered back.
Harry enjoyed the way her hot breath fell on his neck. These last few days were relaxing, thanks to Alaenera spending most of it in his bed.
"Do you really think the Dornish will be inclined to continue with the betrothal now that the North has gone independent?" Alaenera asked.
"Oh, they will." Harry smirked confidently. "They'll be most eager to secure the marriage as soon as possible."
"How can you be so sure?" Alaenera asked sceptically.
"Because there will be others who seek to exploit this opportunity to their own advantage." Prince Doran is not one to leave risks unattended for too long. Besides, the Martells probably hope to appease the North with some offers once Aegon reveals himself." Harry made a healthy guess after a moment of thought.
"And if you're wrong?" Alaenera raised a delicate brow questioningly.
"I suppose I must then spirit Arianne and Nymeria away from Sunspear. There are plans in motion with regard to Dorne that I cannot leave to chance." Harry hummed softly, enjoying Alaenera's ministrations.
Harry suddenly caught Alaenera by her hand and pulled her forward. His lover was unceremoniously exposed to the light of the setting sun. With only a sheer silk to cover her body, Alaenera was left exposed before his eyes.
"Why the sudden interest? Is it worry about your position I hear in your questions?" Harry asked, taking a step forward and trapping his lover against the balcony's railing.
"No! Why should I worry about anything?" Alaenera dismissed the notion entirely.
"Good." Harry murmured before capturing her red lips with his and carried her straight into bed to make love for the rest of the evening.
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule; pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre.
For artwork related to the fic:
https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf