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Angron of Tarth, The Stormborn of Ice and Fire
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Cataphract
Oct 18, 2020
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Garlan
299 AC
The Red Keep
The last several days had been busy for him to say the least about it all. Renly, that is His Grace on the Iron Throne, had declared a celebration for HIS victory. For HIS defeat of the Lannisters and their attempt to rule through his unworthy nephew. The celebration was planned to have a carnival-like atmosphere, with joursts, mummer shows, and feasts - the last being particularly well received by the smallfolk of the city who he could see were still haunted by starvation. Starvation that had been instigated by Renly and Garlan's own family cutting off food supplies from the Reach in the first place.
Fortunately for him, he had not been roped into any of the celebration planning but had been sent out dealing with the defeated opposition.
He had been received at Hayford, the defeated and sunken Kevan Lannister had accepted the terms of surrender for his forces - at least those that had not abandoned him and fled from the Crownlands. At times Kevan seemed...lost without Tywin as he spoke but Garlan could see there was a glimmer of initiative in the older man. At the very least his spirit had been uplifted upon being given the news that his son, Lancel, still lived and had been paroled by Renly - even if his new cage was a gilded one. Lancel had been a good source of information about the last days of Robert Baratheon's life...that upon orders of Cersei he had drugged King Robert's wine that had lead to his drunken death at the hands of a boar. The so called 'hunting accident' had given them enough information to damn Cersei and Joffrey should they prove to be...more troublesome.
Garlan had also been sent to Rosby for two additional reasons. The first being Father had Renly invest to Garlan the lordship over Rosby. There had been some words that if Alester Florent had turned his cloak from Renly to Stannis that Garlan might have received Brightwater Keep but the death of the old Lord Rosby at Cersei's botched assasination attempt had opened a new opportunity. Rosby being in the shadow of King's Landing was not the largest of holdings but it was one of the most important in the Crownlands - it had been Rosby's fields that had kept the city from collapsing in famine. It also strengthened House Tyrell's influence farther north in the Crownlands. He already had plans to expand the meager keep there.
His second aim had been the collection of Renly's youngest nephew, Tommen Baratheon. What had struck Garlan the strongest about the boy was that he was certainly no Joffrey - where his older brother was a vindictive little shit Tommen was much more timid. So much so it was hard to believe that the boastful, energetic Baratheon blood of his father ran in the boy's veins. In short the boy was unlikely to become a Demon of the Trident any day soon. Tommen had been elated at being told he would be returned to his mother but had almost immediately become terrified when told Joffrey would also be there with them and told Garlan all he needed to know about their sibling relationship.
It made him grateful that he could say he had a close relationship with all of his own brothers and sister. On the occasions he would have liked to have been firstborn instead of being a spare he remembered the quiet patience Willas always had shown him - on top of saving him from being nicknamed "Garlan the Gross" by dubbing him "Garlan the Gallant" early on. Loras irked him sometimes with his impulsiveness but he knew his younger brother looked up to him and strode to follow his example as a knight. Margarey of course doted on them all equally and they were equally sworn to defend her honor and well-being. He also of course had his wife Leonette who had arrived in the city and the two had not wasted their free time apart from one another.
With business in Rosby concluded he had returned to King's Landing and almost immediately been drawn into plans to retake Dragonstone from the holdouts of Stannis' supporters. From what Varys' little birds claimed, tensions were rising like an ill tide on the ancient seat of House Targaryen. Stannis was still deep in the coma he had mysteriously succumbed to outside of Storm's End and the affairs were being led by his wife and her Uncle Axel Florent who had only become even more militant in their faith to the Red God. It was whispered that burning sacrifices of deserters and traitors became a nightly event. In opposition to the Queen's faction was the Blackwater Bay nobility who had not converted to the Red Faith led by the Velaryons of Driftwood. In between them all was Shireen, Stannis' daughter, and the Onion Knight who just seemed concerned with Stannis' comatose body.
He had been on his way to see about supplies heading to the docks when from what had seemed like thin air Grandmother had appeared and hooked her arm around his.
"There you are my dear boy, just in time to help me find a nice spot to sit in this wretched warren."
The Red Keep could be at times confusing, it had been built as the center of Targaryen power in Westeros and the increasing paranoia of their line had seen secret tunnels and other new additions added on.
"Couldn't you have asked one of your guards for help?" Garlan asked, though he was already resigned to Grandmother guiding HIM to where she wanted to go.
"Nonsense, those two are all brawn and no brain. They would get me only more lost and probably break my arm somehow." Grandmother replied, her twin guards Erryk and Arryk followed them dutifully and he was not sure if at this point they ignored her words out of duty or had simply become used to the insults.
Pulled along by Grandmother they found a nice alcove with the view of a garden which had a table and a few sitting chairs that Garlan was able to settle Grandmother into before taking his own seat. Erryk and Arryk stood guard just out of earshot.
"This city smells horrible. Like piss day and night. It's no wonder Cersei lost her sense of taste and smell in this place…"
"Grandmother," Garlan said and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I know you did not abduct me from my duties just to complain about the city's smell - even if you are right."
"Ah, smart boy. You know as well as I do your idiot father is wasting you with this silly invasion of Dragonstone. Whatever threat they are to the city is broken and they are already at each other's throats with cooking knives…"
"Where then do you believe I would be better off?"
"Going North. With my poor, deluded son, the Starks, and Aegon to parley with their upstart Robb Wolfking."
His eyebrows slid up his face at those words. The last he had heard from her about the peace talks and sending Joffrey north was 'Get on with it already!'. She was a proponent of seeing peace with the Starks and kicking the Ironborn back to their dreary islands. The longer fighting went on the more a threat to Renly's already rocky claim on the Iron Throne would grow and therego a threat to House Tyrell that had tied themselves to him. Had Grandmother discovered something?
"Why? Father should have everything settled at Riverrun."
"Its your Father's meddling that has me worried," Grandmother gave an exasperated sigh before she leaned in closer toward him, "What do you know of...House Bolton?"
It took him a moment to remember that particular house. They were a Northern house so they had not been particularly important in his studies by the maesters but they certainly stood out given their sigil. A red flayed men spread out with their limbs forming an X. That stuck out quite well.
"They were known to flay their enemies alive in the past…" Garlan answered.
"They were also enemies of the Starks in Winterfell. Centuries of bad blood. Your Father it seems has the gall to get us all involved with it as well."
"What do you mean?"
"This boy." Grandmother pulled out a letter and handed it to him, "Lord Roose Bolton was in contact with Tywin Lannister. He expressed willingness to betray House Stark to be named Warden of the North. Now it seems he has gone to your Father to offer the same deal!"
The letter was in Father's handwriting, that was unmistakable, and reading it quickly he saw that Father had been indeed talking with this Roose Bolton before. The letter spoke of Father being 'open' to accommodation with House Bolton should - and only should - talks break down with the Starks. Father expressed willingness to make use of Aegon and his Storm Warriors should things come to violence along with the other men he was bringing to Riverrun.
"How did you get this, Grandmother?"
"Oh, it was easy. Mace was distracted and I snatched it off his desk. He has so many papers on his desk. He will forget he wrote it and write it again."
"But...Father says he will only accept Roose's offer if talks with the Starks break down…"
"Fah! Do you think that will stop the Boltons from acting? With the Ironborn cutting off access to the Neck, the Riverlands crawling with bandits and Lannisters still, and all of the surviving Starks gathered in one place after the Squids killed his younger brothers in Winterfell? No, I expect them to give things a little push…"
"We should warn the Starks then!" Garlan replied and made to stand but then Grandmother whipped out her cane and knocked it into him. He immediately sat back down and faced her.
"We should do no such thing. If we told them now they would just accuse us all of being liars." Grandmother waved her hand, "That said, if Robb Stark does not bow to Renly it would be handy to have this Roose in our pocket...and if he somehow succeeds after revealing his plans it just means we will swap one enemy in the North for another. At the same stroke with the Reach's forces spread so thin if Dorne decides to raise Myrcella as Queen then much of the Reach will burn before we could hope to move against them. No, we need to keep our options open."
Grandmothers words made his head spin. She sounded like she wanted to stop Bolton but at the same time did not want to do so if there was a threat to peace in the North. Margarey had become quite close to Sansa Stark, and Arya Stark it seemed had all but adopted the Storm Warriors. He could see the trouble they were in now by feeding Roose's ambition for the North but it all still threatened their position one way or another.
"If you do not want me to stop this plot then why send me to Riverrun?" Garlan asked.
Grandmother chuckled dryly, "You are not a thinker like Willas is my boy but you are more one than Loras who at times can't see farther than the tip of his own sword. I trust you more to get a measure of this whole affair than your Father and I know you will not be paralyzed to act like Mace was during Robert's Rebellion."
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. What Grandmother said was not...wrong. Now that he was aware of the whole affair he felt like he could not let it lie. If events panned out just right it threatened everything all at once. As was the way with Grandmother he had little choice but to be pulled along by her schemes.
"Very well, I will...petition Father to let me join him on the road to Riverrun."
"Good boy, now try and not to get us all killed."
Last edited: Oct 18, 2020
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Cataphract
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Cataphract
Nov 2, 2020
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#2,490
Sandor
299 AC
King's Landing
He had a headache, had suffered with it all morning from the moment he had opened his eyes and rolled off of his cot. The trek up Rhaenys Hill toward the Dragonpit had not helped it at all - but thats where the Storm Warriors had set up their camp in the city. With no way to change it all he had settled on silently cursing under his breath each time a throb of pain blistered in his skull.
He had been drinking again - fighting too from the pain in his knuckles but given that he had woken up alive and not in a sewer he fancied that he had won. What more was there to do for a former Kingsguard than fight and drink his way to an early grave?
The night Renly's forces had broken into the city it had been him and the Kettleblack brothers guarding that little shit, the FORMER, King Joffrey. He had told the little shit that they should not be on the walls but as always Joffrey had not listened to him. Joffrey had been an extremely shitty mood since the Little Bird, Sansa Stark, had slipped through his clutches. Had demanded they send the garrison out to reclaim her but the boy's mother, the Imp, and what remained of his Small Council had convinced him how much of an extremely bad idea that was. When Sandor had seen the explosion of wildfire from down below he had frozen - his fear pushing his mind back into himself. By the time he had come out of it that monster Aegon Storm had already begun pounding on the walls!
Joffrey had looked like he had shat himself then and had ordered Sandor and the Kettleblack's to return him to the Red Keep - but it was too late. The Storm Warriors had cut into the city like knife through butter, then the sellswords had revolted, then the smallfolk followed them, and then the rest of Renly's army was on the walls...someone had slammed into him - maybe some poor sod who was panicking though he suspected it was one of the Kettleblack brothers - and by the time he had turned around Joffrey and the others had disappeared.
He had cursed and shouted every word he could think of as he tried to get a sniff of where the little pisshead and the others had gone but by then the chaos in the streets had made it impossible. He remembered turning a corner and nearly running into five men in grey and blue armor with lightning symbols emblazoned on their shields - they had been Storm Warriors. He had acted on instinct and lashed out with his sword at one of them but the bugger had deflected it with his shield and then they had done the most peculiar thing. Instead of trying to charge him all at once they had done some fancy footwork - in a flash they were a solid line of shields braced up against one another. He had tried to hack through them but they had hid behind their shields and marched in step - pushing him back with their solid line until he was backed into a corner with no escape. They must have recognized him - who else had such a handsome, disfigured face like his after all - because instead of just killing him they had bashed their shields into him until he had been knocked out cold.
He had woken up in the Black Cells and had cursed himself hoarse until the last person he had wanted to see had strolled in - The Imp.
"You've been stripped of your Whitecloak I am afraid, Loras Tyrell burned it." the Imp had told him after he had pulled up a stool to sit on. Sandor had thought of just strangling the dwarf and making his escape but the smiling jackass he always brought with him - Bronn had accompanied the new Warden of the West with more men and a crossbow within arm's reach.
"So what? I never wanted to be in the Kingsguard, it was Joffrey's idea...is he dead?" Sandor had spat when Tyrion had shook his head, "Shame. It would have been a mercy for him and a lot of other people who are going to have to enjoy his damnable company."
"He will be taking the Black. As will my brother Jaime should he agree to it at the negotiations with the Starks," the Imp had then leaned closer, "I would very much like you to go with them?"
"What? Be the Sworn Shield for a deposed King? Freeze my balls off on the Wall?" Sandor had asked incredulously.
"Well, no, not exactly." Tyrion had then produced a wooden cup and a wineskin and given it to Sandor. He had been tempted again to spit it in the Imp's face but he needed a drink - the water he had been given smelt like it had come directly from the Blackwater. "I want you to join the Storm Warriors and...make sure they get to the Wall. Or as far north as Aegon is going with them. And to send me word of their movements."
"Oh! You want me to be your spy in their camp. To be a blackguard! Hah!" Sandor had laughed in the Imp's face. "I helped slaughter the Stark household here in the Red Keep. The Starks will want to kill me."
"You certainly helped Sansa Stark here and I am sure she is still grateful for that. You aren't to do anything treasonous, no. We are all subjects of King Renly now." Tyrion had replied and he had just laughed again. "Its up to you. You will be freed later today, don't come to me afterward...if you join the Storm Warriors I'll know, I'll contact you once you are out of the Crownlands. I'll certainly make it worth your while…"
True to the Imp's word, Sandor had been more or less tossed out of the Red Keep later that day. From there he had wandered through the city - he had not been allowed to collect his things from his quarters so he had sold his plate for coin and had begun the cycle of drinking and night. He could return to Clegane's Keep - it was his since Aegon had put a sword through his brother and had been in a sort of limbo. However, he wanted nothing to do with the Keep - he had left it the day Gregor had killed their Father and had wanted nothing to do with it ever since - too many bad memories. He could become a sellsword, leave for Essos once Renly's men got off their asses and swept the holdouts on Dragonstone. He had thought of the Little Bird a bit, he had despised her weakness - her willful stupidity in believing the nobility of knights and all the other stories she had no doubt been told.
Oddly his mind had drifted to the Storm Warriors he had attacked. How they had stood shoulder to shoulder to one another, they had seemed to support one another as they had pushed him back to the wall.
Cursing whatever star he had been born under and the headache he had collected his few belongings and had trudged up Rhaenys Hill to where the Storm Warriors had camped in the city. The Dragonpit, where the mad Targaryens had kept their dragons in the city, was a ruin ever since the last of their beasts had been killed off. Bodies had been burned there during the Great Sickness and it was said on dark nights one could see flames in the ruins. It sat on top of one of the great hills of King's Landing so it certainly commanded an advantageous position looking out across the city. No one had taken much interest in seeing it repaired - at least until the Storm Warriors had arrived.
Tents were arrayed out across the grounds of the Dragonpit - primarily in the parts where the cavernous roof did not overhang but Sandor saw more solid structures here and there. Sections of the outwall had been filled with stone debris or had wooden walls constructed, defensive spikes lined the street toward the main gate into the building. Further in he could see more wooden structures had been built - they looked like storage depots, horse pens, and forges. Everywhere he looked Storm Warriors were on the lookout, patrolling the streets and checking on everyone that came close. Antler helmets and lighting bolts were everywhere. They looked like they were expecting an enemy to suddenly rise up and attack them on all sides - and if someone did try that they would get their bleeding teeth knocked out by the Storm Warriors.
As Sandor approached the gate a man he recognized lead several other warriors to meet him - the man was Andrew Estermont who Sandor knew had been Old Toothgrinder's squire years before. He had heard Estermont had switched sides to Renly after Storm's End.
"Hound. What do you want here?" Andrew growled at him, his face a grim furrow - almost a facsimile of the ones Stannis Baratheon had used.
"I hear you nancies are heading to the north. Figure you could use someone who knows how to use a sword to fight - other than the Stormborn that is." Sandor growled back, enjoying the way Estermont's face had shown a sudden bolt of fury on it. He had not lied, he had seen Aegon Stormborn fight in the Great Hall...and it had been something that had truly frightened him. The speed and strength that Aegon had shown far surpassed Gregor's own even when in one of his murderous furies. He had snapped a man's neck with a flick of his wrist. Sandor still did not know if he should be grateful or angry that Gregor had died on the Stormborn's blade and not his own.
"The Storm Warriors are a brotherhood of swords, Clegane. We uphold honor and brotherhood to one another." Andrew spat at him, "Something a murderer like you would never understand - not one who fell from the same tree as that monster brother of yours'"
Sandor bristled and his hand went to his sword on instinct. What did this pompous blowfish know of honor? Of what Sandor had suffered and what choices he had taken? It would be suicide but it would be a pleasure to knock Estermont's head off-
"Ser Andrew." a deep voice called out from behind the Storm Warriors, and its owner was walking closer, "It's not your place to deny an aspirant who wishes to join us."
Aegon Stormborn stepped up to Estermont and laid a massive hand on his shoulder, he gave a reassuring smile and squeeze with his hand.
"It's my place to choose."
Seven Bloody Hells! Had the Stormborn actually grown larger than the last time he had seen him or had it only been the distance between him and where Sandor had stood on the Iron Throne that had thrown off Sandor's perspective. Aegon was not dressed for war, he wore a simple tunic and pants that would have engulfed anyone else who wore them but he towered over everyone around him and there was something else about him. Sandor glanced about but every eye seemed to be on the Stormborn...as if they had all felt his presence like a subtle pressure that even then Sandor swore he could feel.
"Forgive me, Lord Stormborn. The Hound-" Estermont began to say but was silence when Aegon shook his head.
"If Sandor wishes to join with us then he has the opportunity to do so...." Aegon looked up at Sandor and continued, "Follow me to my tent, Clegane."
Sandor did not really even think about it but immediately his feet were moving on their own at Aegon's command and he followed the Stormborn deeper into the camp - leaving a confused Estermont behind. It did not take long to find the pavilion tent that was the Stormborn's and inside Sandor quietly marveled at the furniture - it had all been scaled up to match the Stormborn's incredible proportions which if he had sat in would have made him look like a child. There was one 'normal' chair which Aegon motioned him to sit in and again without thinking Sandor complied while Aegon sat in a chair opposite of him.
This close to the Giant of Tarth, Sandor could see something he had not noticed before - there was an weariness in the man's eyes. Perhaps sadness? Aegon caught him staring and chuckled.
"I've never been in a city like King's Landing before. Half a million people, the majority of whom have just come off of several months of tension from war, starvation and siege. There are a lot of...emotions to sort through here."
Emotions? Sandor wondered what the other man meant by that.
"You should know, Sandor. I've spoken to both of the Stark girls about you. Both have very...conflicting images of you in their minds." Aegon continued with another chuckle. Sandor thought of the Little Bird first and then of course of her younger sister the Little...Wolf who had stared daggers at him since the incident with the miller's boy and the direwolf's attack on Joffrey.
"Let me guess. The young one wants to see my guts spread out across the gates, eh?" Sandor asked.
"More or less," Aegon did not hesitate as he answered. "I am not sure about you. Andrew did not lie when he said the Storm Warriors are a brotherhood, we trust one another and would die for one another. We are not like a sellsword company. I can tell you will find it hard to...trust the others." Aegon paused again and squinted at him for a moment, "I think though that it will help you."
"Help me? Help me with what?" Sandor asked confused, he shifted in his seat when Aegon next brought up one hand and reached out to him. His memories of seeing Aegon demolish the men he had fought in the Grand Hall flashed in his mind. Aegon placed his hand on the top of Sandor's head. He knew there was little he could do to stop the Stormborn from cracking him like an egg. He thought to himself perhaps that would be for the best. Maybe then his suffering would-
Sandor gasped.
His body froze as an upswell of emotions seemed to flow up from the pit of his stomach, or perhaps his heart. The betrayal and pain he had felt when Gregor had thrust his face into the fire and Father had done nothing of it. The sorrow of the death of his younger sister. The anger of being compared to that murderous monster and the hypocrisy of so many knights and lords whose actions spat on the Warrior's code. The humiliation from his years of service to Joffrey - everytime he was called the Hound as if he was a mindless beast. His own disgust with the things he had done. All of it seemed to pour out of him to be replaced with an...sense of peace. For a moment he was not the Hound, but was Sandor Clegane. He felt hot tears on his face before Aegon let go of him and leaned back in his chair with a grunt of pain.
The Stormborn was grimacing as if he had taken a sword to the gut, his face was pale and one of his eyes had become red as if a blood vessel had popped. He smiled though. He smiled through the pain. Sandor realized the pain...the emotional pain he had somehow taken from him had not stopped the Stormborn from being...himself.
"As I thought," Aegon said eventually, "You...have not had a brother before, Sandor. Not a true one that was not just bound by blood. I can only take your pain for a time...but I think you can use that to find a brotherhood that you are not worthy of...but one that is worthy of you."
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Punching and kicking my way out of my Holiday funk
Brienne
299 AC
The Red Keep
"You really should be in bed." Margarey said as soon as she had spotted Brienne completing her usual calisthenics on the cold, stone floor of her chamber within the White Sword Tower. Back on Tarth Aegon had devised a set of stretching techniques that she found had helped prepare her body for the usual punishing exercises she normally practiced. They had been useful as well in easing her body which had lain prone for so long as she had healed.
"My Queen!" Brienne immediately went from her pushing position on her bed to a kneeling position with her head bowed, though she had caught sight of another figure behind the Queen so she added, "Lord-Commander."
"Sister you should know Ser Brienne is made of sterner stuff than most knights!" Loras said and though she could not see it she could picture the teasing look he must have been giving Margarey, "She took an entire carriage wheel that by my own eyes had come at Renly in a blink of an eye and survived!"
It was true and was the talk of the Red Keep as much as she could make out from her condition of prolonged bed rest. Though she knew there was no doubt plenty of snickering that perhaps taking a wheel to the face had done some good toward her beauty or some such taunt.
One moment she had been shielding Renly the next something heavy and hard had struck against her shield and thrown her back into His Grace and the last thing she could remember before she had awakened was the sensation of hitting the ground before she had blacked out. When she had awakened in the White Sword Tower she had awoken with such a loud shout that a nearby servant had dropped a jug of water and had fled in fright. Brienne had not known where she was and how she had gotten there, her first thoughts being she had been captured by the Lannisters but it had only been when Loras had stormed in that she knew her thoughts had been false. Loras had explained to her all that had happened -Aegon's attack on the walls, their capture of the city, the surrender of the Lannisters, and everything since- and had finished just as Aegon had arrived.
"Still, she should not strain herself." Margarey huffed and motioned for Brienne to rise which she did . She towered the young Queen, quickly she sat down on her bedside. "I wished to see how you were doing now that you are awake again."
Margarey smiled at her and awkwardly Brienne returned it though blushed at the state she was in. She still wore bandages though most were covered by the simple white tunic she wore while both of the Tyrell siblings were arrayed in fine looking dress and armor. She certainly felt as awkward as she did whenever her father had forced her to go to a dance or gathering of nobles and her brutish ways were made apparent.
"I am fine-that is I am healing better every day. The maesters have said I will be able to return to service in the next two weeks or so they say."
"Fortunately for you Pycelle is no longer in charge here. Otherwise he would have cut you to ribbons with those bloodletting devices of his. I saw them when the servants were packing his things." Loras shivered dramatically but winked at her.
The former Grand Maester had been sent packing, literally, back to the Citadel once King's Landing had been captured. Varys had found several notes addressed to Cersei in his hand, marking him as a Lannister loyalist. Pycelle had loudly protested but in the end with the Lannisters gone he had no support in the city and had been dismissed from his position. Aegon seemed to think that Pycelle would not do well upon his return to the Citadel - too much time spent in King's Landing had poisoned him and would no doubt lead to something awful should he butt heads with his peers.
"It is too bad he is not going with my brother to the North." Brienne said and blushed again at the thoughtful look that Margarey gave her.
"It would be a death sentence for the old man. Though either way I believe this city is well off to have both him and the Lannisters gone from it." Margarey replied and smoothed out her dress.
"Oh, you should have seen the crowds at the procession when they left." Loras seemed to smirk at the memory, "If Aegon and the rest of his men had not been there the people would have stormed the wagons and torn those monsters to bits."
"Tommen is just a child. He would not deserve that. Myrcella too if what I have heard of her is true. At least they have escaped the...the madness of mother and brother." Margarey chided her brother.
"As I said, given Aegon's presence they were all perfectly safe. For now at least." Loras waved his hand, "Aegon's name is quite well spoken in the city. Especially in Flea Bottom. Second only to Renly of course."
Aegon had not wasted any time in seeing her once he had heard she had awoken. By the way he had stormed into her room, a blacksmith's apron still wrapped on his broad form he had no doubt dropped what he had been doing and gone off to see her. The sense that something had been lifted from his shoulders when seeing that she was alright had been almost visible to her by the mix of emotions that had rippled across his face. He would return every morning and evening - until he and his men left the city- checking up on her and giving her bits of news. He and Garlan would take their men and the Lannisters north to Riverrun to exchange prisoners and negotiate for the Young Wolf and his supporters to lay down their weapons and accept Renly's ascension to the Iron Throne. There was news of Lannister supporters still about but they were being corralled by the Rivermen. The Ironborn continued to raid further North and the last they had heard was that Winterfell had been captured.
Aegon's duty would be to protect the Lannisters and Starks from King's Landing to Riverrun. Once there he would protect the Baratheon-Tyrell party until peace could be negotiated. If it was, he would continue north to assist breaking the Ironborn grip on the North and see Joffrey taking the Black at the Wall. If peace with the Starks and Tullys could not be achieved however...then he and his men had been ordered to force it.
"You should join us, Ser Brienne." Margarey said, "The celebration my good-husband has ordered are as much a tribute to you and the others who fought by his side as they are a promise for peace."
"I couldn-" Brienne began to stammer but Loras cut her off.
"You aren't disobeying an order from Her Majesty, are you?"
"Hush, Loras." Margarey rolled her eyes at her brother and sat at Brienne's side, "You deserve to get away from your quarters for some time. The smallfolk wish to see the lady-knight who saved their King!"
"I don't know…if danger were to appear I would be in an ill position to protect you..." Brienne tried to not look at Margarey as she spoke but inevitably her gaze drifted back down to the Tyrell.
"Please, would you escort me?" Margarey asked again, she pouted up at Margarey with devlishly pleading eyes.
"...alright." Brienne sighed and bowed her head, "Please though, let me wash first!"
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Cataphract