Mid 288 Summer Jon Arryn
The Lord Paramount of the Vale and the Hand of the King flinched at the thunderous sound of Jorah Mormont's lance bringing down Ser Jaime Lannister to win yet another of the crown's tourney, this one celebrating the birth of King Robert's third son with Queen Lyanna. They'd over two years of peace from the Lord of Bear Island's antics while the man sailed about Essos from Volantis to Lorath cementing the final pieces of the 'Command Economy' puzzle Ned Stark now operated with the help of his primary advisors based out of White Harbor and Far Harbor.
The whole situation wreaked of sorcery, but Robert refused to listen. How else but magic could the Lords of the North give up their autonomy, their noble rights, and submit the fortunes of their Houses to the edicts of another? Every lord in Westeros is afforded the right to enrich themselves of the resources of their holding, limited only by royal prohibitions and embargos, of which there are precious few. Yet the Lords of the North allow Winterfell to direct the inflow and outflow of goods from their holdings.
What a godless and frozen hell the North must be.
Taxes flowing out of the barren kingdom rise year after year, but if the Lord of Bear Island shows up at enough tourneys in a year he stands to take all that back home with him had he not the habit of spending lavishly on whores from Dorn, Lys, and the Summer Isles while carousing in the capital. Jon Arryn prayed often for the Seven to bless some noble scion of faith and chivalry to cast down this heathen champion, but the gods deemed his time of trial to endure.
Mid 288 Summer Rhaella
The former Queen of Westeros heard the cheers from the stadium all the way from her seat aboard the Great Seabear. They almost drowned out the screams of a man on the docks who held the bleeding voids where his eyes used to be while a massive golden eagle took idly crushed the jelly filled orbs in its powerful talons, calling out to the man in mocking cries and trills. He fumbled blindly with an outstretched hand to take vengeance with his poisoned assassin's dagger, but the eagle simply pecked the hand to bloody strips.
Her second husband's pets often amused themselves with the various killers who thought to try his defenses. A few of The Elite stood nearby, calling out encouragement to the bird, and failed to notice a second killer aiming a crossbow atop a warehouse roof. That man looked up at the growing shadow over him and screamed as a second golden eagle threw him off the roof. Head first. Its screech of victory caused the other eagle to cease playing with the wailing man on the docks. It seized his throat in its huge claw and tore it out.
Her youngest son let out a coo of contentment as he delatched from her teat. A Targaryen breastfeeding like a common smallfolk mother, the ghosts of her family must suffer greatly in the next life at the final indignity of the House of the Dragon. Her father should have let her marry the righteous Ser Bonifer Hasty if he didn't want his daughter to become a prized broodmare in a Northman savage's harem.
Daenarys huddled nearby, hunched over with her hands on her ears, but her son Young Jorah stood on a chest to see over the oarport. Possibly the most well behaved boy in the Kingdoms, but he never looked away from the violence his father's animals reveled in.
Unseen by his mother, behind Young Jorah's purple eyes, wildfire raged.
Mid 288 Summer Lyanna
The reigning Queen of Westeros watched as the chief-oaf cheered on the grandfather of her bastard children. That magnificent beast of a man down in the arena adorned in steel plates painted with crushed emeralds and adorned with beaten gold. Even the Lannisters dared not to adorn their jousting gear so. Though no Lannister could ever hope to win every tourney he rides without ever needing a second tilt. Jorah Mormont was the only real man in Westers.
She should have seduced him all those years ago at Harrenhal, but like a fool chit she chose his lesser copy. At the very least she got a well tamed pet for her effort and sacrificed maidenhood. The quiet Kodlak proved an easy and competent conspirator, not given to sudden bouts of uncontrollable passion or soft romanticism. Able to crush a spying child's head in his meaty hands with nary a frown on his face.
Robert's capacity for both those weaknesses made the theft of his line all the easier to conceal, and unlike the reviled princess who helped spark the Dance of the Dragons, she'd chosen a stud who looks so much like her husband he might as well be his brother. How Robert laughed about the hefty testicles of his 'sons'. 'Boy's got the stones of a real Baratheon!' he shouted upon the birth of her second born, Cregan.
In a world full of disappointing men, Lyanna swore to raise her son to never fail her. When Cregan Baratheon ascends the throne, she will rule through him, and finally bring about the kind of change this stagnant repressive society needs. Little girls everywhere will finally have the kind of freedom seen in Dorne and on Bear Island, free to grow into strong, powerful, independent women ready to take charge and correct all the mistakes of this male dominant world. He will crush all who oppose her and make Westeros safe for her beloved firstborn's return.
And Lyanna Stark will be remembered for all time as the woman who changed the world.
Mid 288 Summer Wyman Manderly
The Lord of White Harbor's heart ached at the fees he paid to Jorah Mormont for breaking into new markets for the North's excess supply of trade goods. The Lord of Bear Island created a coterie of tightly bound contacts and allies across the Narrow Sea. For access to these contacts, the seafaring merchants from White Harbor adhered to a strict schedule set forth seemingly at Jorah's whim. It would take decades of analyzing such schedules to hope to turn half the profits sticking to them achieved. Jorah's contacts and schedules generated enough gold to see the great houses of the North backing his frankly absurd plans receiving return on investment within the next two.
The Witch Lord of Bear Island bound them not in chains of magic, or iron, but the strongest chains of all: glittering gold and greed. Whatever sorcery the man used, he crafted a planned economy more effective than all the Lords of the North have ever ruled over in eight thousand years. If Jorah Mormont suddenly died, the tide of prosperity he created that raised the fortunes of everyone from Widow's Watch to Flint's Finger, threatened to transform into a tidal wave of debt and expectations that would sink them all. So potent a mind, did Jorah Mormont keep hidden under all that wild black hair.
Lord Wyman wished dearly to know the true disposition of that mind, but even with his son Wendel married to Jorah's eldest daughter, an understanding of the man beneath all the savagery and swagger evaded him. Obviously interrogating a bride about her family is a quick way to destroy the standing of a noble house, but often enough women are simple headed enough to miss the implications their words may have when talking about themselves or their lives before the marriage. Aella Manderly is no such simple bint.
Every bit as bitter and vicious as the infamous aunt that raised her, Aella made for a hard woman to converse with, and more often than not communicate more with her husband in the training yard with a club in hand, than at the dinner table or the bedroom. In fact, poor Wendel lost much of his luxurious blubber in the years since he took the young woman to wife. Turned the man into a fearsome tourney champion though, so long as it's a tourney that his good-father and good-brothers aren't involved in.
You win some, you lose some.
Mid 288 Summer
Tywin Lannister sat in his solar competently being competent, and without even an inclining that his fleet and city would soon burn.
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