Several days later, the news of the battle of the ford of the Kneeling Man reached King's Landing, and none of the small council were smiling now. "I hadn't thought that much of the Riverlands would declare against us." Cersei mused thoughtfully, though her eyes were flashing with rage. She would rage later when she was alone or with just Jaime, right now she needed to keep control. Eddard Stark had shown her how controlled rage was much better than the shouting and screaming kind, if not nearly as emotionally satisfying.
While her father might have won the battle, and now controlled fully a third of the Riverlands, his march north had been halted, and that meant that it was up to the Freys to stop Ranma and the North. That was an impossibility, she was certain of it even if Old Walder had a spine equal to his ambition. This meant that soon they would have a third enemy to contend with.
After a moment spent grinding her teeth to keep from roaring out her rage and anger at this newest affront to her and her son's positions, Cersei turned to her brother. "How long before the North is in play?"
"Four, maybe three months." Jaime guessed. "Longer, possibly. Remember the North is nearly as large as the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Crownlands combined but with nowhere near the numbers. It'll take the Starks time to gather a strong enough force to send South, plus they've already sent men up to the wall, so I doubt it could be that large a force." Despite those words is normal arrogant smirk was in abeyance. If Ranma was as good at leading man as he was at fighting himself, that army would be very dangerous.
Joffrey slammed his hand down on the table, ignoring the pain the pain this caused in his hand to yell. "The North is a problem for later! The Riverlands are a problem for now! It's obvious that old bastard in Riverrun has fully followed his son's treason! As such his son should pay for it. We should kill him now, then sent his head to his father!"
"That would serve no purpose." said Varys said coolly. "Worse, such a move would be certain to change the opinion of at least a few of the Houses who have joined forces with your grandfather, or have remained neutral."
"But the only good thing for a hostage is if they believe we will kill him if they act up, this is obviously them acting up."
"No I'm afraid it isn't." Pyrcelle said shaking his head. "Hoster's idea of simply informing his lords to act as their own conscience dictates has cleared him of wrongdoing in this case." He tapped the message thoughtfully, thinking hard. Ever since Tommen's death he had been taking his position much more seriously, and was much more likely to speak up if he had something to share. "Besides, the Houses facing Lord Tywin on the Green Fork aren't taking the field against us. They're simply taking the field against allowing anyone to march across their land. That kind of neutrality we can deal with. Killing Edmure would no doubt turn them against us. No, it's best to hold onto him."
"Grandmaster Pycelle's right I'm afraid my son." Cersei said, sounding actually regretful about that. "I would like nothing better than to show our anger at this betrayal, but it is best that we keep Edmure alive for now. It shows mercy on our part and also keeps Riverrun and the Tully forces from acting, no small thing."
Angered at being blocked from slating his inner sadist on what he saw as a worthy target Joffrey stood up abruptly and marched out of the room. Seeing this Cersei sighed faintly, her own initial rush of anger having disappeared as she tried to think of what this could mean in the long term before deciding she couldn't figure that out, and turned to other matters.
Jaime frowned looked after his erstwhile son, then motioned one of the men he had recruited in the Kingsguard, Ser Torrey Buckwell, third son of that Crownlands noble house. He was a decent swordsman and a man who took his oaths seriously, so had been perfect for the Kingsguard, though his skills weren't quite up to Balon Swann's level. Jaime whispered into the man's ear and Torrey nodded, then moved briskly after the two men assigned to guard Joffrey, both of whom had followed the king out of the room.
His sister hadn't noticed this little bit of interplay, having turned to Varys. "Besides the news of the Riverlands, which we cannot affect or change from this far removed, do you have anything else to report Varys?"
"I do indeed Your Highness." Varys said smiling faintly. "News has reached me from my little birds in Duskendale. The ship that Ranma Stark took to Pentos made port there, and its sailors are being very free with the news of what occurred. Apparently he brought back Daenerys Targaryen. She came willingly, the alternative apparently being sold by her brother, as we had suspected, to the Dothraki. She was not apparently a willing participant in that."
Cersei scoffed, motioning to get on with it. As if any woman would wish to be sold off like that. Normal marriages between Noble Houses were one thing, but at least most lords were civilized. She hated to think what the Dothraki were like, thinking them the equal of the Late, unlamented Gregor Clegane in the manner they treated women.
Obeying her command, Varys had to stop himself from smiling at the rock he was about to drop. Varys was still trying to wrap his own mind around the return of the dragons, but it was certain that they would help in the long run to muddy the waters here even more. He had already sent notes to a few of his factors in the free cities to search out fossilized eggs if they could find them. After all, if one Targaryen could awaken them, certainly another could. "But that is not all. "
"But here is the most, astonishing part, something I would not have believed except every sailor my little birds plied with their various wiles have said the same thing. The Targaryen girl apparently brought along two dragons eggs, which hatched within moments of her arrival abroad the ship. Two dragons, living, breathing dragons, are apparently hers to command. The sailors were all sharing tales of how she began to train them, commanding them with gestures and words as if they were merely dogs!"
He watched, allowing his own face to show shock at what he was saying while inside he laughed aloud at the look of fear on the face of everyone around the council table. "Needless to say." Varys continued. "I think we need to consider what this means long-term."
OOOOOOO
Jaime excused himself quickly from the meeting after that. His sister had shown a remarkable amount of self-control when the bad news of their father's setback was shared, but this latest information had broken that control. Even as he walked down the corridor his ears were still ringing from her screeching, wild and above all impotent, fury. Cersei was magnificent most of the time, but when she lost it fully, even Jaime didn't want to be around her.
Of course there's not much any of us can do about this particular problem. Jaime thought, his lips twisted in something between a snarl and his normal smirk at the thought. I'm good with a sword, but I can't fly, so my ability to deal with dragons is somewhat limited.
Beneath that flippant thought however was a lot of fear. He could all too easily remember the mad king, and the thoughts of what another mad Targaryen could do with a real dragon terrified him, though he would never let that show. I bet we could figure out a way for scorpions to range on them if we tried, need to talk to Pycelle about that later, after my sweet sister works off her temper. She's been keeping it bottled up lately, all the crap we've had to deal with has forced her to, so that might take a while.
He looked up, broke out of his thoughts when a familiar voice called his name from further down the hallway he was walking down. "Ser Jaime?"
Coming down the hallway toward him was Tyrek Lannister. He had initially been one of the king's squires, though had been nearly forgotten since he didn't actually enjoy hunting, but Lancel had. Tyrek had missed the battle against the Starks because he had been down with one of the nastiest stomach maladies Jaime had ever seen. Even now he looked pale and wan, though that might have been his still having not gotten over Lancel's death. The two young men hadn't been close, but Lancel was possibly the first family member Tyrek had lost. Jaime was grimly certain however he wouldn't be the last. Since then Tyrek had been used as a general gofer for the queen and the Kingsguard, which was probably what he was doing now.
Jaime cocked an eyebrow at Tyrek and he went on. "Milord, Ser Torrey asked me to fetch you, he says to come to the Traitor's Walk."
Jaime's eyes narrowed and he nodded, walking briskly off. He found Torrey there, looking a little bemused. "Torrey, what happened, where's the boy-king?"
"He came here right after leaving the king's council but I think you were wrong about his temper getting the better of him, at least in severity. He shouted at Edmure Tully for a bit, had Blount and the others smack him every time he tried to open his mouth. The king said stuff about how his grandfather was going to wipe Edmure's father and the Tully's holdings out, how he was a traitor and all that. Then he ordered him to be moved from the top floor down to the bottom floor, but that's all." Torrey smiled now, looking very relieved he wouldn't have to try to stand up to the king, since given his oaths he would have had to obey Joffrey's orders over his commanders. "That's all, then he, Blount and the others gathered some hounds and armsmen then went out on a hunt."
At the remarkably blasé account Jaime breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the boy really wasn't involved in the prisoners' deaths then. If just smacking Edmure around like that was enough for Joffrey to get over his anger, maybe I was jumping at shadows.
OOOOOOO
He wasn't, but after his mother's words Joffrey knew he couldn't take his full displeasure out on Edmure. So Joffrey had gone hunting, letting his anger out on a fox his dogs ran to ground. Later that night however, he, Boros Blount and Alfred Edgerton, a knight from a Crownlands House of similar disposition, slipped into the prison. Heading down to the lowest level, they found Edmure asleep.
Before Edmure could rouse from the light of their torches, he found his head being covered by a burlap sack. Edmure woke up with a gasp, trying to jerk away from the hands he felt on him, but being chained to the wall limited his ability to fight back, and months of being in prison, even in the better quarters reserved for lords, had sapped his strength. "Damn you, you bastards! If I could see I AHH!"
The four hands on him pushed Edmure flat on his back and then Edmure felt the chains around his legs pulled taut. The chains on his hands were also pulled taut and Edmure found himself spread out like that. A blow landed on his back, causing him to grunt in pain. Another blow slammed into his forehead, causing him to nearly black out. Moments later, he wished he had, as the lashes began to fall, and he screamed.
Near the entrance to the prison cell Joffrey smiled. Mother said I shouldn't kill you, and all the others agreed with it, so I suppose that's correct, but that doesn't mean I can't hurt you for your fathers treason. For now merely a whipping with a cat o' nine tails, be grateful it's only lashes rather than skinning. But if my grandfather keeps running into more problems, well, a prisoner doesn't need the fingers on his sword hand does he? That thought made Joffrey smile even wider, while all around them, the other prisoners woke up to the sounds of torture, and shivered where they lay.
OOOOOOO
Despite being much closer to King's Landing than Highgarden, Bitterbridge was still far away from the Riverlands, where war had already begun. For all that however, there was still martial glory to be had. Just ask Loras, who had just unseated his third opponent of the day. After pushing up his faceplate, Loras shook out his shield arm wincing theatrically. "A good try," he said jovially looking down at his opponent across the tilt where the man was groaning as he got to his feet. "If you'd struck a little more center of mass you might've beaten me there my friend!"
The other young man, Emmon Cuy, a nephew of House Cuy's current lord, laughed wheezily and waved him off. With that Loras turned his horse around to head back the way he came, dismounting with ease. He stood there for a time watching the next few matches, including his lover, Renly's. Renly seemed off his form slightly today, putting more strength into his lance thrusts than he should, but he still won his match easily enough.
When Renly joined him at the end of the tilt, Loras looked up at him, one eyebrow raised sardonically. "You seem a little out of sorts my friend, what's wrong?"
"You know damn well what's wrong." Renly said in a low tone, not bothering to dismount. Instead he earthed his lance next to him then pulled off his helmet before looking down at Loras. "Don't tell me you haven't heard the rumors?"
"I have, but you can't let them get to you, especially when it might cost you your next match." Loras replied earnestly.
"Why do you think I entered this tournament in the first place?" Renly replied growling a little. "I had hoped that coming to Bitterbridge plus taking part in this tourney would allow me to fight the rumors, but it hasn't worked."
Loras grimaced, but nodded. News had reached them from House Fell that House Buckler and a few others had declared for Stannis. There was also news of a battle against House Tarth that had completely smashed the force that House had been willing to send to war for Renly. That wasn't good, to say the least.
House Buckler had yet to take offensive action against House Fell, but Fell was no longer willing to send more than a token of its strength to war, and the other Stormlands lords were worried as well. He had received ravens from all the lords who had already gathered at Fawnton, and he had bit the arrowhead and sent orders back to them to send two thousand infantry to bolster Felwood, but ordered the others to remain where they were, preparing to march to the Rose Road to meet the army gathering here at Bitterbridge for the march up to King's Landing.
None of them had been happy about it, yet his promise to cede Bronzegate to the house that performed best in the battles to come had been a large enough carrot. But his power over them was badly eroded by this episode and certain attacks on his personal reputation.
The Queen's version of what had happened in King's Landing had spread like rumors often do, helped along by her ravens. Cersei's version painted the Starks as power-hungry in their attempt to take the throne from the queen, who was holding it as regent for young Joffrey, when their chosen heir, Tommen had died, killed by a third-party. It was hinted that they were doing so as part of a long term scheme cooked up with Targaryen supporters.
That of course didn't matter to Renly, but what that bitch of a lioness's version said about Renly himself did. It painted him as fleeing with his tail between his legs the moment combat was in the offing. It stated she had evidence that Renly had been in on it with the Starks, but the moment it seemed as if it would come to an actual battle in the streets of King's Landing he ran like a whipped cur.
It called into question his basic courage, and that was something no noblemen could stand. Especially not in the Reach, where honor and chivalry and the knightly virtues were seen as close to sacred as oaths sworn in the presence of the Seven. Not for nothing was the Reach known as the home of chivalry.
His friends here knew it wasn't true, and his close allies here and in the Stormlands were willing to ignore it, but those he hadn't befriended and the regular knights were beginning to mutter about his simply waiting here for his full army to gather rather than use the forces already at hand. Some of them obviously felt it might be a sign of his cowardice, but what to do about that was something Renly couldn't figure out.
The two young men's conversation was interrupted as Loras heard his name called for the next bout. Renly watched as his friend won the tilt easily, smashing a knight from House Merrywheather out of his saddle with the first pass. Soon after that it was Renly's turn. He too won his match though it took him three passes to defeat his opponent, Ser Horas Redwyne.
The other young man stomped angrily off, muttering under his breath "Hmmpf, even a coward can have some skill in the joust I suppose. It isn't as if his life was on the line after all." That made Renly stiffen, and he gritted his teeth angrily while he wheeled his horse back to the starting point.
So it continued throughout the day, but Horas' words proved to be shared by many. He could see the glances, could see the sneers in all those but his closest friends and allies. It was spreading like a plague through his army.
Endure it, he thought to himself. Endure it while the Reach builds you the largest army in Westeros. With that, I can smash anyone else who tries to stand in my way to the Iron Throne. At that point this will have been forgotten, and all they will remember it is the fact that I won!
He smiled as Loras bowed to him, the winner of the tourney. Renly had reached the semi-finals and then lost to Ser Robar Royce. The second son of that Noble House of the Vale, Robar had travelled to Bitterbridge to pledge his sword to Renly's cause and hopefully win some glory for himself. But Loras had beaten the man in the finals.
"In honor of your victory Ser Loras," Renly intoned. "I name you as captain of my Rainbow Guard! May you serve me with just as much courage and dedication as you have shown here today!"
Loras bowed then took his place at Renly's side while Renly called for all the other young men who had distinguished themselves in the tourney one after another, putting together the rest of his Rainbow Guard. Renly's version of the Kingsguard, they would be his elite force to place against that force, and possibly the wolfsworn he had heard Ranma and others of the Northerners speak of before the events of King's Landing. Each man in it was also assigned a color, to match the rainbow motif, plus connect them directly to the Faith, which held the rainbow as a sacred sign. This was an obvious attempt to gain favor among the pious, but Renly knew it would work anyway, among the smallfolk at least.
That evening, after a drunken feast was held in Loras' honor the two men were walking the grounds of Bitterbridge, discussing ideas on what to do to combat the rumors, when a messenger found them from Lord Caswell. "Your grace, milord" The young man said, gasping a little. Milord Caswell asks you to join him in his study, there is a messenger here with news from the Gold Road."
Renly's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he nodded, thanking the man politely. The two of them hurried off, and found their friends as well as Mace and several lords already waiting for them, all that were in Bitterbridge and sober after the party, though only just in a few cases. Randyll was there as well. The only one fully sober, he was pacing back and forth his face a storm cloud.
"What has happened?" Renly asked as he entered, looking at his future father-in-law.
Mace might once have cut a martial figure, with wide shoulders and strong arms in his youth, be he had since turned to fat. His curly brown hair and triangle shaped beard held flecks of gray, showing the man was prematurely aging, helped no doubt by the ale he consumed at every opportunity he could away from his nattering mother. Of late he had soundly rejected his mother's advice, remaining close to Renly where she had said they should distance themselves, and look for other methods of securing the position. In Mace's thinking there was nothing ventured, nothing gained. Certainly backing Renly no longer seemed the certain course, but what did that matter? The reward at the end would still be worth it.
He looked at the messenger, a sharp eyed old man with a scar going down one side of his face and threw his eye on that side. Nonetheless he was wearing decent leather armor, and had a very good bow strapped to his back. "Tell them what you told us."
"Sir, I serve some Lord Shermer as a thief taker. I'm also supposed to look out for any unusual movements along the Gold Road and report. Well sir, there's of force of Westerlands men coming down the Gold Road hell for leather heading straight towards King's Landing as fast as they can go."
"Do you have any idea of the numbers?" Randyll asked quickly. It was obvious he had been merely waiting for Renly to arrive before questioning the messenger as closely as he could.
"Around 6000 or so my Lord." he said shrugging his shoulders. "There is a place along the Gold Road ah like, it's my personal favorite place to hide when I know a thief is tryin' ta get away that way." He smirked a little. "They never suspect it, since the tree looks darn near unclimbable, and the bottom's covered with poison vine. Anyway," he went on more seriously "I'm good at counting, and I'd say at least 6000."
"Their disposition?" Randyll barked.
At the man's blank look Randyll scowled but Renly spoke up before he could. "What my lord Tarly means is could you tell us what kind of men made up this force?"
That I can't rightly say." The man said with a shrug. "I only saw about a score o' men with bows, and the whole force were on horseback. But most of them didn't look none like knights or really trained cavalry. One or two of them looked about as comfortable in a saddle as a sack a wheat'd. But they had a lot of horses, two for every man."
"Most likely infantry placed in the saddle then," Randyll mused. "It's an old but good trick that lets you move your infantry as fast as a cavalry unit. Could you estimate how many men, as you put it looked like sacks of wheat in the saddle?"
The man shook his head. "Nay, milord, that I couldn't, not real like. I couldn't make out their expressions or anything like that for the most parts anyway, but I would say…" he paused thoughtfully. "I would say maybe a 1000 of 'em was real cavalry. Their armor was better ya see, and a few had heavier lookin' plate. Plus they all had lances."
Renly frowned tapping his thigh thoughtfully. 6000 more men on the walls of King's Landing would be a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Plus 6000 more mouths to feed would simply hasten the fall of the city anyway, since Renly knew that the more they felt the sting of starvations, the more the smallfolk would make problems for the royals and their backers.
He was about to say that aloud when Loras leaned in. "This is your chance!" Loras whispered.
Renly turned to him and Loras went on. "We ride out here with the army already gathered here to block that force from getting to King's Landing. With you at our ahead and if we fight well that can banish the coward label you've been laboring under." Loras too had been lambasted in the Queen's version of events in King's Landing, but few in the Reach truly believed that of the Knight of Roses.
Still, that didn't mean that his advice was wrong, and Renly nodded. We've already gathered a force of 18,000 cavalry and 14,000 mixed infantry here. But I'll need to command the force we send on my own, not with Randyll or anyone else there to take away from the glory. It needs to be seen as my victory and mine alone. "I think," Renly said instead. "That we have an opportunity here."
OOOOOOO
Lord Rupert Serret was a wily old man of Tywin's generation who while on the short side was nearly as broad across the shoulders and was known to use a massive bladed axe as his personal weapon. He wasn't as well-versed in warfare as Tywin, but was no slouch either having fought in the Ninepenny King's war. And unlike most noblemen, he was also more of an infantry commander, since he had led a force of infantry in that war and knew well their strengths and weaknesses. He also knew the value of good intelligence, and had a large force of scouts probing ahead and to the sides of his force at all times while he marched his forces as quickly as possible down the Gold Road.
They were nearly to the first crossing of Blackwater Rush when his scouts reported siting the massive army of the Reach closing in on them from the front right flank. "And you say the army you spotted is entirely made up of cavalry? And not like our own, infantry simply thrust into the saddle?"
"Positive my Lord." one of the scouts said a young man missing an ear. But there was nothing wrong with his eyes or his mind. "All of them heavy horse, with a smattering of light out in front as scouts, a bare dozen I think spread out all along their front. They're not movin' quick, their horses will be well rested by the time they catch up with us."
"How many days until we reached the bridge across the Blackwater?" Rupert asked another scout, an older man who doubled as his scout commander.
"I'd say about two days or so my Lord, but they'll find us by tomorrow."
"I don't think we can stop them from catching us." Lord Serret mused scratching at the stubble on his face for moment. "No, we'll have to give them something else to chase instead."
OOOOOOO
According to the scouts estimates Renly and his men were barely an hour away now from catching sight of the Westerlands force. Renly was feeling all the usual feelings of a young man before his first battle: fear, nervousness, a desire to get it over with and apprehension that he wouldn't do as well as he hoped.
He mastered that all however with a confident air as he rode at the center of his cavalry, having taken ten thousand of the heavy cavalry already gathered at Bitterbridge with him. With that many knights they would be able to smash the Westerlands force even if they tried to stop and fort up somewhere, which would be impossible on the Gold Road in any event. So long as they caught them before the Blackwater crossing the Lannisters would simply be hammered under.
The idea that an infantry unit could stand up against cavalry never even entered his mind, and though Renly knew enemy would have spotted them coming and made their own plans, he knew any plans would fail when matched against his heavier force.
The front of the Army began to ride up a small grassy knoll which would allow them to look down onto the gold road to see their enemies on the march. Suddenly the clamor of battle arose and bugles sounded the alarm from the front of the column.
"What's happening?!" Renly barked, standing up in his stirrups to get a better view. "My spyglass!" When the object was handed to him by his banner carrier he focused on the front of his army. There he saw hundreds of light cavalry dueling with his own, with his heavy cavalry already moving in to assist.
"It's a holding tactic." He said barking it out. "Split the army into three, the ones already engaged will hold that cavalry there, the rest of us will split in two and go around them to attack the main force." That was easier to do than say however. Everyone in the army tried to rush forward at once, eager to get in on the kill of this small force. Then more cavalry came up, snarling the entirety of his frontline.
"Stranger damn it!" Renly growled, pulling his face guard down and readying his lance. "We'll have to push them out of the way then. Rainbow Guard with me!"
With Loras at his side Renly barreled forward, the rest of his cavalry making way for them automatically then forming up behind him. The Rainbow Guard hit the ensnarled light and heavy cavalry like a hammer, bowling over some of the light cavalry, actually knocking their lighter horses to the ground, while their lances, skewered horse and rider indiscriminately.
Renly himself skewered one man, and nearly froze as he saw the blood flowing from the wound before his training took over and he let go of his lance. Grabbing out his broadsword Renly whirled around, barely blocking a blow from east from an enemy's lighter sword, before his return stroke smashed the man out of his saddle. He killed one more man, taking a blow to his shield in turned which set his arm to ringing when suddenly there was a noise of bugles in the air.
Another force, this time of a hundred a hundred heavy cavalry slammed into the flank of his army, leading hundreds of unsaddled horses into his formation, disorganizing a his army further. They were soon enveloped however by the rest of his cavalry, having gone too deep into his formation to get away.
The light cavalry on the other hand hadn't tried to penetrate his force so much as shave a bit of the front and were now breaking off. "After them!" Renly shouted, forgetting for a moment that there was anything else but the retreating light cavalry in this battle. Disorganized and slightly rattled by the wild horses still running amok in their own formation, none of the other commanders with him, all young men like himself eager to prove themselves, realized it either.
By the time Renly regained his senses, all of his army had started to chase off after the light cavalry. They eventually rode them to ground, but it took the rest of the day to that then reform the army.
Looking up at the sky from cleaning his sword Renly saw that it was nearly night, and shook his head angrily. "They bought themselves another day!" he said looking around at his Rainbow Guard and the other commanders. "One day more, but that won't save them in the end. We'll run them to ground first thing tomorrow morning!"
That won him a cheer from all the men around him.
It didn't quite work out that way however. The infantry kept marching on through the night, putting more distance between them and the larger Reach force. The Reach cavalry still caught up to them, but just as the last of the infantry crossed the bridge over the Blackwater.
Once the last infantrymen were across, torches were thrown down along the bridge, along with dozens of ale-skins and even several gathered bushels of hay from the nearby farmland. The bridge was huge, old and its base was made of stone rather than wood, but the wood that made on it was dry, and the fire caught easily.
With that act Lord Serret was free to continue down to King's Landing now unmolested. He had lost his entire cavalry force, having sent them to harry the larger Reach force and then break away. Those had been their orders anyway, though Rupert knew when giving them that it wouldn't work out that way, indeed he had counted on it. Thankfully for the rest of his men he was right. Those two thousand men had died, but the four thousand and two hundred infantry with him were saved.
Technically it was a win, Renly thought as he stared across the bridge at the retreating infantry lines, what could be seen through smoke of the fire on the bridge anyway. Below in the river hundreds of men had formed a chain and were using their helmets to throw water up onto the fire. Even if they put it out however, Renly wasn't about to trust the integrity of the bridge after that conflagration.
"I had really hoped we could ride the entire force to ground. Those light cavalry were but a decoy apparently."
His friends all around him nodded but Loras shrugged. "So we'll follow them across when the fires put out. They can't honestly expect this to stop our pursuit can they? And once we catch up we'll ride over them just as easily as we did their light cavalry."
"You assume the bridge will be able to hold our weight." Renly said pessimistically. "I remember this bridge; the causeway was destroyed a few years ago by a lightning strike and the crown billed for its repair since it is part of the royal road network. I don't think that the fire will have done any less damage. No, we won a battle, now it's time for us to win the war."
Loras and the rest of the Rainbow Guard looked at him and Renly smiled. "Send a message to Bitterbridge and Fawnton. Tell them to march to meet us at the Kingsroad. We'll march from here along Blackwater Rush to meet them. We'll besiege King's Landing."
At some of the quizzical expressions he laughed. "We don't have enough men to take it until the second echelon from the Reach arrives from Highgarden, but we do have enough men to besiege it which might be just as good. I bet my cold fish of a brother is already blockading the port, we can use that to our advantage. We'll block delivery even of the foodstuffs from the Crownlands while we wait for the main force, then attack the city once we see it's weak, and force my brother to come to the bargaining table at the same time. Even if the Lannister force already in the Riverlands turns down to us, that small a force won't matter in the open field against our knights, and we will win the war within a year!"
That caused all the men around him to cheer, and soon enough the army was on the move once more, while a trio of ravens winged their way toward their target castles.
OOOOOOO
About a week into the march from castle Cerwyn the army had made camp for the night. After spending two hours practicing with Arya and the other wolfsworn, Ranma entered his tent, shaking his head slightly. While their meditation and ki manipulation exercises were proceeding apace, none of them would ever be as fast as Jon or Ranma. In fact even Ranma wasn't as fast in this life as he had been in his fast life.
Oh, he still was able to use a move he could call the Amiguriken in his head, but sustaining it? No, that took far too much ki, much like most of the actual ki attacks Ranma had learned. He could armor his body and speed it up, but not both for very long. And if he tried to use the Amiguriken without armoring his hands and arms against it, the very air began to feel as if he was hitting concrete, and his skin began to blister like he had thrust his hands into a fire.
Still, Ranma persisted training them, and now Daenerys and Merry at least a little, who at Ranma's insistence had joined them. Though she showed no aptitude for the physical side of things, Myrcella had taken to the meditation like a duck to water unlike Daenerys, who had major troubles with that aspect. Seeking the void just did not work for Daenerys at all, forcing Ranma to change the meditation method he was teaching her.
But Ranma was determined to get her up to snuff eventually, if only because building up ki would directly impact how long Daenerys could expect to live. Ranma in no way wanted to outlive his wife or friends, so was determined they would all learn as much as possible about using and building up their ki.
He reached down, touching a small bundle that Sansa had given Dacey to pass on to him. She had forgotten it among her own gear for a time, but finally remembered it that evening. He opened it looking inside and pulling out the contents, a banner that Sansa had made for them to signify his union with Daenerys. Once laid out on the ground of his tent he could see the design on it, and smiled. Attached to the edge of it was a small note, which he pulled off and read.
Daenerys came into his tent several moments later in search of Ranma to tell him the evening meal was ready. She stopped and stared at the banner, shaking her head. "Is that what Sansa gave Dacey to pass on to you? I am constantly astonished by your sister's ability with needle and thread, to create that in the time we were in Winterfell, that's amazing."
"Yeah, she's always been good at that, but what she wrote to me was surprising, and reminded me of something I had started to forget." Ranma replied, still staring down thoughtfully at the message in his hand.
"oh, what's that?"
"She wrote to me asking that we show mercy on the queen when we reach King's Landing. I liked that, that my sister shows such confidence in us." Ranma chuckled quietly still not looking up. "But she asks for mercy for Cersei because in the time after Tommen died, the two of them had become close. She writes 'even with all that happened Ranma, I can't forget how kind she was, how she mourned for Tommen. While that does not change any of her actions before or since, I ask you to show mercy for my sake.' It reminded me that not all the Lannisters should be lumped in with Joffrey or even Tywin."
"They're Lannister!" Daenerys growled, sounding very much like her little ones at that moment. "They're all child killing, raping bastards! You agreed with me before that they need to be wiped out, don't tell me that just because the chief traitoress had cozened up to Sansa you're going to let her live?"
Now Ranma looked at Daenerys, his eyes blue ice to her fiery violet ones. "They aren't all like that. Tywin might have ordered the killing, and he certainly doesn't care about the rest, but even Tywin isn't himself a rapist. Nor did I ever say Cersei would not pay for her crimes, though I haven't decided on the type of punishment just yet."
"That doesn't matter, he was still the one who ordered it, and it was his family that profited the most! And if the queen hadn't committed treason neither of us would be here! They must be removed from power when we win, or else somewhere down the line the Lannisters will rise up again in response to our victory, they are that vindictive and hateful."
"True on all accounts, and I am not going back on what I said, the Lannister's will be removed from all positions of authority, their lands sized and redistributed. But I won't allow my hate to govern my actions, I won't paint the entire family with a single brush that's not honorable, or just! After all, there are people out there who will put you and Viserys in the same category because of the actions of your father. Would you paint Merry in the same light as the man who employed the Mountain?"
Daenerys' violet eyes widened in rage at her family being compared to the Lannisters, but the last sentence made her anger drain away from her. She closed her eyes for several moments and when she spoke, it was almost in a whisper. "I've spent my whole life being taught to hate the Starks, the Baratheons and Lannisters all equally, to look down on even the Tyrells for not being there to defend their liege lords at our time of need. Everything was so easy, so straightforward then, my family was in the right, and everyone else was in the wrong, we were the Royal family, whatever my father might have done he was the king. Taking back our throne and punishing them for their betrayal was justice."
"But, but it isn't that simple, it never was, just my perception. First Domeric told me to my face what the old king had done, and worse I read and found out more on my own, forever changing how I viewed my own father, and my family as a whole. Helped admittedly, by seeing Viserys falling into the same madness."
Her lips quirked in wry bitterness at the thought, but she went on regardless, wanting to get this all out now, much like pulling out a bad tooth. "And then I learned more about why your family rebelled, I could no longer blame your family for their actions at that point. And then, then at my lowest point, when all hope seemed lost, I met you. The starks changed from first enemy then to neutral party, then, in you valued allies and now family."
Ranma reached out, touching her check tenderly, smiling now. "And then you met Merry."
Daenerys leaned into his touch slightly, sighing now. "Merry, yes. I was so prepared to hate her, and she looks so Lannister! But there were so many parallels between her current circumstances and mine, and we bonded over murderous brothers and she was good with my little ones and so young and innocent in many ways, I could not look at her and see the ravening, raping monster that all Lannisters were supposed to be." They were even connected by their feelings for Ranma, though she wasn't going to say it.
"But it is so hard to let go of my hate." She said, her voice even softer. "Yet you're right, we can't afford to let mindless hate color our actions. I broke away from Viserys not just because of his plans for me, which wouldn't have worked as he thought in any event, but because knew he would be a disaster of the first order on the throne. I, I cannot fully remove my feelings from my thoughts of the Lannisters, but I will not let them rule me."
Ranma smiled, pulling Daenerys into a hug. "It's ok Dae, if you ever start to go down that road I promise I'll be here to pull you back. So long as ya promise to do the same for me?"
He did not ask that to make Daenerys feel better. No, Ranma knew he had dark places in his soul, and a rage that could burn as cold as the winter winds. He knew he would lose it if he ever came upon a village after an invading army came through. The stories of rapine Eddard had once shared with him about Robert's Rebellion had filled Ranma's heart with fury, and once he loosed it, Ranma knew he would have trouble reining it in.
"I promise, my love." Daenerys said, leaning in. Their first real argument having ended, the two kissed for a time until Cley came with food of the two of them from the evening's fires.
OOOOOOO
Margaery had remained behind in Highgarden when Renly rode out. This was because she and her grandmother had maneuvered Renly to declare that no marriage between the two of them would happen until he sat on the Iron Throne. It had been an incredibly astute move, though Mace had been furious about it. He seemed to think that the moment Renly and Margaery were wed that their future as part of the royal family of Westeros was secure. Margaery had never thought that way, and Olenna, who had at one point let herself be seduced by that thought, was now back in control of her faculties.
She, her grandmother and Willas were now meeting with Garlan, the second eldest of the Tyrell siblings. He was a belted and well respected knight, though not as well known as Loras since Garlan did not seek glory like his younger brother, eschewing the tourney for his own training. Already married, he spent most of his time at Cider Hall with his wife. At this moment they were discussing the latest news to reach them from all sources.
Olenna threw down a raven message from Lord Tarly who had sent it back upon receiving a message from Renly. "So, the idiot 'king' won himself a victory of sorts. It might be enough to combat the rumors about his personal cowardice for now I suppose." she drawled skeptically.
"For my part the news from the other side of the passes are more worrisome." Garlan said shaking his head. He had squired under Lord Randyll when he was younger, and considered himself at least half a march-man because of that. "I would've thought the Prince of Dorne would have been more cautious, but evidently his brother has a bigger influence on him than that." The news that Prince Doran had put Oberyn into prison had not reached the Reach, and the Marcher lords had a long memory. "Still, with half their forces at home the Dornish Marche Lords are well prepared for any invasion from that direction.
"Bah, that's merely saber rattling, nothing more." Olenna said shaking her head. "That army down there will march back and forth, up and down the passes but never come close to actually attacking. They know the Marcher Lords would slaughter their troops if they took the offensive."
"I agree if my friend Oberyn isn't in charge. If he is, all bets are off." Willas said. He smiled, amused as even Margaery looked uncomfortable at his mention of his friendship with Oberyn. Not only were Martell and Tyrell old enemies, but Oberyn had been the one to cripple Willas in a tourney years ago. Their friendship had been surprising, but deep for all of that.
After a moment he went on, his smile fading. "For my part I am more worried about news from Goldengrove and the western border. I think I should take a force out there to track and destroy these mercenaries that are causing so much carnage. House Rowan already sent their lord and most of their forces to Bitterbridge, they lack the manpower to run these reavers to ground by themselves."
Margaery and Olenna both looked shocked at that. Willas shrugged. "Who else? Besides, I may be the oldest but I am also the least tried, according to popular rumor, at combat. That needs to change. Just because my leg is lame doesn't mean I can't lead, and that wound did nothing to my sword arm. Besides which, Garlan was already selected to lead the men here up to meet the rest of the army for Renly's grand scheme." His amusement was rather withering at those last few words.
"No." said Olenna firmly. "I'll not send you out like that. I have another task for you."
In one wrinkled old hand she held up another missive, this one from another of her spies in the Crownlands. He was an itinerant tinker, who always traveled all over the place searching for business. This made him one of her better informers if a little intermittent in when he could send off messages. "One of the informers of our house in the Crownlands has passed on the fact that the Targaryens have returned!"
She looked over at Margaery, who like the two men had sat up abruptly. "Most specifically the Stormborn girl. The agent talked to a few sailors from the ship that brought her and the Stark boy back, they all said they were quite close. And that she brought two young dragons with her!"
Garlan was the first to respond, slumping forward and placing his face in his hands. "It just goes from bad to worse! How fast do dragons grow anyway?"
Rubbing his own face wearily, Willas shook his head. "I've actually studied dragons a time or two, purely for interest they are fascinating animals you understand. It will be around two years before they are capable of carrying a rider for any appreciable length of time. But every month that goes past they will be able to fly a little further alone. Unfortunately I have no idea how long it would take for them to start breathing fire, though I don't think they would be able to until at least their first year, to breathe any appreciable size of flame at any rate. But I agree with my brother, this is… bad."
"Could we…" Garlan asked looking at his grandmother. "Could we arrange for an… 'accident' to occur to Renly? With him gone we could say we had been led astray by wrong counsel? Our House was after all known to be loyal to the Targaryens during the War of the Usurper."
"No." Willas said shaking his head. "The Starks believe in honor, if we throw over Renly now, what will that say of us? That we can't go the distance, much as we did it in the last war? Oh, father makes a big act about how he was the only general the Targaryen had that won battles against Robert Baratheon, but what did that do, simply take him out of position to be of any use whatsoever when the Starks, Tullys, Lannisters and Baratheons came calling on King's Landing."
"No, if Renly dies of natural causes or in battle that is one thing, but if he dies mysteriously…" Willas shook his head. "Margaery's right, we should never have pulled her out of King's Landing, now we must make a good enough showing to show how we could hurt them if they don't make peace with us."
Olenna frowned at that, but knew that Willas had a point. Besides, she thought to herself, poisons don't have to be used on people alone after all. Olenna personally held no loyalty to House Targaryen. She only had loyalty to her own family and keeping them safe and powerful.
Margaery shook her head, having recovered from her own shock. In truth, she couldn't blame Ranma or this Stormborn girl for getting close as it were, no matter how much that pained her to admit. She had been pulled out of King's Landing, and while their friendship was strong, neither of them had allowed any attraction to grow between them, Ranma because of his desire to keep Margaery at arm's length, and Margaery because of her parents orders to also play for the brat who now sat on the throne.
"Send me." she said aloud. "Ranma will listen to me, even if he and the Targaryen girl have become close." she did notice how she spat out those words, "he'll still listen to me at least politically. And despite Loras not backing his father, he won't have much of a problem with me or our family. Not yet anyway, so we can safely ally with the North and the Targaryens now, regardless of what Willas says."
"Mace will never go for it, not yet." Olenna said shaking her head. She was frankly becoming very unhappy about her family being close to the target of so many people's ambitions, but they couldn't get out of it! Not with Mace and his ego in the way, as well as their current agreement with Renly. That didn't even consider Loras and his relationship with the Baratheon boy.
"No." Olenna went on firmly. "I'm not sending you to the Starks Margaery that would serve no purpose at all even if you could reach them from here. Unless it slipped your mind, the Riverlands are a war zone right now. Plus Stannis has declared his intention to become king, which means you couldn't go by sea either, unless you think you should go around Dorne and the Westerlands?"
Margaery scowled, conceding the point. The conversation continued from there, but none of them really had any good idea of what to do from here on other than to continue to keep their options open.
As her grandchildren left, Olenna pulled out two more raven messages, placing them on the table in front of her. If the dragon girl has already descended into her family's fire-madness, steps must be taken. And even if she hasn't she might blame the Reach for not being there to defend her father and seek to take vengeance because of it.
She paused at that thought, then shook her head. No, I helped get my family into this cleft point by jumping in without enough information once already. I need to wait until we hear more about the Stormborn girl before taking any precipitous action.
Beyond the girl's character and intentions towards my family there are two questions we need to answer before even trying to plan out a course of action. First, how will the rest of Westeros react to the dragons return, specifically the other noble families of the Reach? And second, if the Targaryen girl returned with two dragons and the Stark boy's aid, what happened to her older brother? As oldest, he would be the one to be seen as the legitimate heir of that family. Until we know those answers as Willas said our best bet in many ways is to continue to sail the present course. Besides, it isn't as if we have welded ourselves to Renly irrevocably, nor are we lacking in alternatives.
Rubbing at her nose wearily she set the two missives aside for now. Groaning a little she lifted herself out of her chair and made her way to her bed for the evening. As she left, the firelight caught the fire, allowing the sigils on both to be seen. On one was a fire edged heart with a stag's head over a crown, the sigil of House Baratheon of Dragonstone. On the other was the lion sigil of House Lannister.
OOOOOOO
Later that evening, Margaery laid in bed staring up the ceiling. I hate being on the sidelines like this! In King's Landing at least I could affect some things, and it didn't take a disaster to make Ranma listen to me like it did my grandmother! By the Mother, my father still isn't willing to listen to me!
For just a moment the thought of Ranma flowed through her head, his blue eyes, happy smile and joking manner, and his serious air when training Tommen, and his fury when he tore the Mountain that Rode to pieces. Then the image changed to Ranma standing beside a platinum haired violet eyed young woman of indeterminate features. She scowled shaking her head to banish the image. She couldn't banish the thoughts however, nor the fear that it would be a while before she could once again act to truly influence matters.
The next day Willas left Highgarden over his grandmother's objections. He led a force of a thousand light cavalry, five hundred archers, six hundred infantry and two hundred heavy cavalry taken from the Tyrell forces gathered here in Highgarden. After bidding his family farewell, Willas turned then rode to the head of the column, his face grim. His objective was to hunt down the mercenaries wreaking havoc over the western edge of the Reach. And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, a bit more than that if the opportunity presented itself.