Tywin found the King in the same chamber, indeed the same chair, that he'd been in when he offered the post of Hand. The room was darker though, no light except for that cast by the fire. Robert was more shadow than man, looming and brooding with legs thrust out and his hand wrapped around a tankard.
"Your grace."
Robert turned his head. "Aye. Lord Lannister. Pray take a seat."
Tywin obeyed. "Is there some reason that the King of Seven Kingdoms sits in the dark?"
"My mood is dark. Is that not cause enough."
"Ill news of the Lady Lyanna?"
His head turned back towards the flames. "Some good, some ill. She lives but will not wed."
"House Stark has broken off the betrothal?" A strange choice, but they were a strange folk in the North. Still, with a Stark as queen they would have been a powerful threat.
"I have consented, of course. I do not believe rape is the mark of a good man, still less a good king."
"That is wise, although I understand your sorrow." Would it be too soon to raise the matter of alternate brides. If he was Hand, no, but since Jon Arryn now bore that office...
"And yet a king must wed for the stability of the Seven Kingdoms. Duty. It is a heavy word, Lord Tywin. May I have your counsel?"
Tywin nodded. "Of course, your grace."
"I should not marry into the household of a Lord Paramount, I think. On the one hand it would leave them the impression they were second-best to the Starks. One does not tread lightly upon the pride of princes, in my limited experience. On the other, it would give the impression that the House I wed would have undue influence upon my judgements - and a king who is too obviously partial is a king who breeds discontent."
Damn. "Those are reasonable arguements, although it may also be said that wedding a House would also secure that House's support for the future. Aerys' grandfather understood that and had his children not undermined him..."
"We would not be here, no. And I would likely not have been born. My brothers may wed into princely Houses, perhaps. But I am surrounded by Crownlanders who fought for the Targaryens and to heal those wounds I should wed near to this city."
"I see your mind is made up, your grace."
"I suppose that it is." He leant forwards, face now lit by the fire. "You know these Houses well, do you not? I should prefer to wed a woman whose house is known for some fecundity, but I do not wish to have too many goodbrothers - we have enough factions."
"The Rykker's are a small house, but they were recently raised to Duskendale and lack stature. The Stokeworths have two daughters of suitable age but one is a shrew and the other dull. I do not commend them as queens." He frowned. "They have considerable lands near to the city though. Adding them to the crown estates would be of value."
"As do the... Rosbys, do they not? Not known to be robust, I don't think Lord Gyles has an heir."
"Not of his body. The Stokeworths would have a claim on those, they have interwed often. And the Freys are kin by marriage."
"Walder's sixth wife?"
"Aye."
"Gods. We should all be so vigorous at his years."
"I would not commend the Crackclaw Point houses, they are all too small and their loyalty to Prince Rhaegar too close. The Celtigars are wealthy but would want you to confirm them as overlords of Crackclaw Point and you would need to fight another war to enforce that. And the other houses sworn to Dragonstone have not yet bowed the knee so I cannot commend the Velaryons or House Sunglass."
"Aye, Velaryon blood would count for much but they have missed that chance."
Tywin shook his head. "There are few candidates in fact. The Farrings have a daughter of suitable age although I gather the Freys..."
"Again? I might be doing the girl a favour."
Tywin paused. "There is... you may recall that Lord Qarlton Chelsted was among King Aerys' Hands during the war."
"Aye. Burned to death, was he not?"
"Quite. There would be some merit to a match with the Chelsteds - they have no cause to love the Targaryens now but they were loyal until then."
"Had he a daughter?"
"Lord Qarlton was not wed, but there is a sister. Much courted now. I confess I do not recall her nature."
Robert nodded. "Aye. Well, I shall have Jon find out. And see about the Stokeworth girls and this Farring too. It is a place to start, and I thank you."
Tywin nodded silently.
"On the matter of marriages..." Robert hesitated and rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Well, I know not how well your daugter and my brother would get on. They are both strong-willed. Have you considered that Prince Eddard has a younger brother? He can certainly grant young Benjen broad lands and a Lannister bride would presumably dower him suitably to establish himself."
"Would you support such a match?"
"I would not dictate it, but it seems to me that it would be better for all the great lords of the realm to have both heirs and spares."
Tywin rose. "It is a prospect to consider, your grace." And it would give the Lannisters a route into the marital alliances between Stark, Tully and Arryns. Hmm. And Jon Arryn had nieces and as yet no son by any wife including the latest. Something to consider for Jaime.
Stannis IV
"Damn Lyonel Corbray!" shouted Stannis as he took in what was left of the royal fleet. His brother's royal fleet, that was.
The Master of Ships had insisted on taking charge of the fleet and in launching the assault before Stannis was ready. A week longer and there would have been four more wargalleys and ten more transports.
Then again, as it worked out that would have meant fourteen more ships caught in the night storm that had scattered the fleet and sunk at least three ships. One of them had been a three hundred oar galley mich like his flagship the Fury.
"No one could have expected a storm like last night, my lord." Davos Seaworth stood on the poop deck of the Fury alongside Stannis.
"You should always expect a storm at sea," Stannis chided the older man. "One like it killed my parents. I watched it from the towers of Storm's End."
The former smuggler shifted uneasily. "Well it's passed now. Should we assemble the ships we can see and make for King's Landing."
"No." He gripped the rail and stared out. Four other ships in sight, out of more than forty. Probably not all the others were sunk. "We came here to take Dragonstone and that's what we'll do!"
"With five ships!?"
Davos reached up for the small bag hung around his neck. "Get back to work, Gregor," he ordered the ship's sailing master. "The storm hit us from the north. It likely did the same to Dragonstone and while we could run south ahead of it, ships in harbour couldn't. There's a good chance that they're even worse off than we are."
"That's my thinking. You kept us at the head of the fleet so most of the others afloat will be north of us anyway - we've a good chance of finding them as we sweep up on Dragonstone."
It was a long, slow day as they slogged north. The end of the storm had left little or no wind behind it and so the Fury and her little squadron made what sail they could and the men rowed in shifts. By the time the sun set there were seven ships in total, but others had been seen upon the northern horizon.
They didn't include Lord Corbray's flagship.
"The Valorous broached!" called across the captain of the cog Windraker. Her captain was known to Davos for reasons Stannis was assured were entirely honest. "I saw it myself. There couldn't have been a survivor."
"It seems that you're in command of the fleet now, my lord."
Stannis nodded grimly. "Aye. And we'll see Dragonstone on the morrow."
They saw the island, as well as five more of their ships. Five of theirs and one cog that flew the blazon of the Targaryens from its mast.
"Take them," Stannis ordered sharply and under Davos direct the ships of House Baratheon spread out and took the stiffening wind in their sails. Had it only been the seven with Stannis they might have made it but two of those seen at night were to their east and the wind forced the fugitive vessel towards them.
One, two and then a third of the ships grappled.
Davos stared through an eyeglass and then passed it to Stannis. "See their poop deck, my lord. I know not the colours but there's a lad there with hair pale enough to be Targaryen."
It took the young lord but a moment to make his assessment. "Aye, and those are Darry colours on the man with him."
"Darry?"
"Ser Willem Darry was master-at-arms for the Red Keep. He went to Dragonstone with Queen Rhaella." Stannis swore without heat. "That must be Viserys. And we have him!"
They were close enough to no longer need the eye-glass to watch as sailors and men swarmed across the ship. The boy with white hair drew a long knife, but one of the Baratheon men had brought a fishing net across from his ship and flung it across the boy. Tangled and kicking, he was borne down and a moment later the knight in brown and black fell at his side, crimson now joining his colours.