Olenna IX
There was a balcony looking out from the Rose Tower of the Crown, across King's Landing towards the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep. It wasn't as pretty as the bower beneath the Red Keep but it was more private and increasingly, Olenna didn't wish to walk far. There were days when she had her manservants carry her up or down stairs.
It was a summer day, which was getting rather predictable. At least Mace had agreed that all his sons would spend a year in the north, getting a taste of winter before the real one came. Then the boys had decided who would go first with dice. Garlan had lost and was on the road north with a hundred men from Highgarden and as many Oldtown soldiers. His other grandfather's retainers. Summer knights for summer days. They'd be in for a nasty surprise from what she'd heard.
The Wall was less a fortification than a man-made mountain range. And she wasn't sure any of them remembered what ice looked like.
There was a girl on the balcony with her. It wouldn't be unusual if it was Bella. Fetching and carrying for Olenna kept her out of Alysanne's sight and was probably more educational than the Septa's lessons. Possibly not the Maester's, but she made sure the girl could read and deal with numbers. She still wasn't entirely convinced Mace had learned that adequately, so Maesters clearly weren't reliable for that. Bella, however, hadn't arrived with the lastest messages from the north.
Daenerys wasn't taken into Olenna's confidence so much. She was a sweet girl but there was always the question of how much her brother might persuade her to tell him. She loved him, just as she loved the man who raised her as if she were his own daughter. The woman sometimes called the Queen of Thorns had a suspicion that Viserys had found her regard for him a hostage against his good behaviour. Quite possibly he had resented that.
But then, he would never have confided in the spymistress of 'the Usurper'.
"Lady Olenna." The silver-haired girl curtseyed.
"Save it for the court, girl. You want something, don't you?"
She didn't demur, at least. So she could listen. "May I enquire if you have news of my brother?"
"You may enquire."
Daenerys paused and then her eyes narrowed. "Do you... no. What news do you have of my brother, Lady Olenna?"
"Oh very good, girl. You have your father's imperiousness down. I think your brother has more of your mother's character."
"You will not deflect me."
Olenna looked at the violet eyes and then spread her hands. "Peace, child, I will tell you." Not quite nine years, but she was growing up. Good. Robert hadn't confided her any of his plans for the Targaryens, probably in part because he hadn't settled on any. But one thing that was clear was that he didn't want his daughters - lawful, natural or fostered - to grow up without both spine and wits.
Daenerys took a seat opposite her and arched her eyebrow.
"Viserys landed in Tyrosh and then tried to throw off pursuit by taking ship for Dorne and then switching at sea to a ship going to Lys. Not a bad attempt for an amateur."
"But not sufficient?"
"We have people in Lys, dear." She opened a folder on the table and refreshed her memory. "He stayed in a rather nice Inn for three nights. Expensive, but at least secure which isn't a terrible decision if you're travelling with valuables. After that he met with the Tattered Prince and enlisted with the Windblown."
The girl tilted her head. "Who are the windblown?"
"They're a sellsword company. It's not at all unusual for a young man of good birth to sell their sword in Essos for a few years. Oberyn Martell had his own company at one time, although he did wind up in debt and having to ask for help from his brother. A very handsome man, but not good with money."
"So will Viserys be going to war?"
"He already has done. The Lysenes have been fighting the Myrish and Tyroshi over the Disputed Lands for hundreds of years. He's a young man so he'll probably find it very exciting but he has a sensible captain so it's unlikely he'll be in too much danger."
"The Tattered Prince." Daenerys frowned. "Where is he prince of?"
"He was the Prince of Pentos. Or he would have been. It's a very comfortable position to have as long as Pentos prospers, but the Magisters have all the power and if Pentos suffers a disaster, the prince is sacrificed to their gods." She smiled. "The Tattered Prince decided it wasn't for him and fled the city. Sensible, you see. He's a very experienced sellsword and men like that don't fight desperate battles."
"Isn't that cowardly?"
"Don't be silly, girl. It's practical. A sellsword captain's first loyalty is to his company. If he retreats unnecessarily then their reputation suffers and they have trouble finding employment. If he fights unnecessarily then the company loses men and their gear. A captain lasts only if he knows when to fight and when to retreat and fight another day, and the Tattered Prince has lasted at least ten years in the trade. A cautious commander like that is a man who'll keep your brother alive. Isn't that what matters?"
Daenerys sighed and nodded. "I wish he was here, though."
"Don't be greedy." Olenna pushes a small dish of sweetmeats across the table towards Daenerys. "And don't spoil your appetite for dinner."
The girl dipped her head and then picked up one of the treats just as Bella bustled in. "Lady Olenna, this is important."
Olenna accepted the message and ran one finger across the seal. "Tsk. Just because it's important is no reason to be careless, Bella. When it's important is when you absolutely must get it right."
The girl folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Lady Olenna. I won't do it again."
"You'd better not."
Daenerys looked from one of them to the other. "But... if it's sealed, how do you know it's an important message, Bella?"
The baseborn girl reddened. Olenna firmly pulled the sweetmeats back across the table. No treats for the careless. "Maester Coleman says it was sent directly from Oakenshield. Usually a raven would be sent to Winterfell and relayed from there because they have more ravens available. So this must be one that couldn't be delayed."
"That's clever," Daenerys said admiringly.
Olenna had to agree. Bella's tongue might be careless but she had a gift for blather. She cracked the seal and read the contents. Then she read it again, more carefully. "Oh. Do you girls have good dresses - ones that fit you?"
"Yes, Lady Olenna. The Queen had us fitted with new dresses just a seven-day ago."
"Good." She rolled up the message again. "Because when King Robert gets hold of Renly there'll be either a royal wedding or a royal funeral!"
Jon XIV
He read the letter twice, committing it to memory. Then he touched the corner of it to the candle and held the page out of the window until his fingers were almost scorched. The cinders blew away in the wind, scattering across miles of the Vale, spread out beneath his window.
No one could read the letter. Such news was too sensitive.
Jon snorted. Everyone would know soon enough. Still, there was a difference between rumour going and Robert's letter possibly falling into the wrong hands.
Then he put his hands on the sill and sighed. He'd managed to keep things stable during his years as Hand, unless you counted the Greyjoy Rebellion. And Lord Estermont had avoided anything like that. Ned had been Hand for less than a year and this was a result. "I shouldn't have left this to Ned and Robert."
"Left what?"
He turned and saw Lysa standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you open the door."
She made a non-commital noise. "You seem worried."
"Robert and Ned have made a mess of things. Well, to be fair it's mostly Renly's fault."
"He's a nice boy," she said fondly.
"He's got Oberyn Martell's daughter with child."
Lysa paused. "Oh."
"And he wants to marry her."
"He sounds like a responsible young man."
Jon repressed a sigh at this approval. Lysa could be sweet when she wasn't sulking. But thinking ahead of political consequences was beyond her. He supposed it wasn't fair to compare her to his previous wives but it was hard not to. "The problem, Lysa, is that it's Baratheon-Martell wedding - even if she doesn't share her father's name - and if it's to be done before the child is born then it will inside a year - or not much past - that her cousin was executed for the murder of Lord Tywin. The Lannisters will be furious, of course, but it won't look well to the other kingdoms either."
"Ah." Lysa walked over to the window and stood next to him, looking out over the Mountains of the Moon.
The mountain clans were getting active, which wasn't making his bannermen happy - not with hundreds of their young men going North to spend two years on the Wall forts. Hopefully when the first of them came back, hardened by the service, it would still the murmuring.
"Would House Martell be offended if they aren't wed?"
"Given Oberyn Martell's behaviour over the years - and the fact the girl didn't drink moontea - they'd have no grounds to complain if Renly took custody of the child and never let Obara near them. Robert has at least left precedent for keeping royal bastards at court. Renly is being less reasonable."
"Perhaps he's in love."
"We could probably manage if he wanted her to be his mistress."
"You are the soul of romance, my dear husband." Lysa pulled on her plaited hair. "Where does she stand in the succession. The Dornish recognise bastards for that, don't they?"
"No, they'll allow female succession but not the illegitimate." He frowned. "Although... hmm."
Lysa looked on him.
"It's an interesting thought actually. If she were legitimised then she would be fourth in line for Dorne, after her cousins and her father. It's possible that the lords might accept that as a warning to Dorne: if the senior Martell lineage continue to be problematic, Oberyn's line - which would also be Renly's line - would stand to rule in Sunspear."
"The way it was murmured that Stannis' line might rule the Vale if I hadn't given you an heir?"
Jon chuckled, took her hand and planted a courtly kiss on her knuckles. "Something like that. It wouldn't please the Lions of Casterly Rock but it would ease some of the tensions. Renly's heirs will stand in succession only after Robert and Stannis' lines - which gods be good have proven fruitful. If in daughters, not sons..."
"Robert, Eddard, Stannis, Orys and then Renly. That's not so many," Lysa admitted. "Do you think..."
"And children can die all too easily," Jon noted. He wasn't thinking of the royal children but of his own sons. Both had suffered bouts of sickness in their young lives. Hopefully they would grow past them. "Yes, if that is Doran's plan then it's a cunning one. His heirs in Sunspear and his brother's in King's Landing... alas, we can no more ensure additional sons for the elder Baratheons than we can command the tides."
"The king's daughters can't inherit," his wife reminded him. "But their sons can, once they have them."
"That will be years away though. And Robert can't bring in Dornish rules of succession. Even this wasn't a Dornish problem in the first place, the Dance of Dragons casts a long shadow." He turned away from the window. "Robert will have to forbid the marriage. Displeasing Renly is the lesser evil here."
"And if Renly defies him?"
Jon thought of his one-time squire. While the boy was more than able to adapt to female company, an inevitability around a court where Lady Olenna, Queen Alysanne and sometimes Princess Aemma were present, he didn't recall him forming any strong attachments before. His closest ties had always been towards other boys and men - the Tyrell boys, Viserys, a smattering of squires and young knights from the Vale and the Stormlands. "You think he's so smitten?"
"I think it may be his first love." Lysa walked to him and rested her face against his shoulder. He could feel her hair against his chin. "Do you remember your first love?"
And now he felt old. "A scandal. Wonderful, just what Robert needs. I shall give him such counsel as I may." Jon closed his arms around his wife. "Later."
Lysa stiffened in his embrace and then gently closed her own arms around his waist. "Of course, my prince," she murmured.