Oh land of my fathers, oh land of my love,
Dear mother of minstrels and songs from above.
And heroes, oh heroes who at honors proud call,
For freedom, their lifeblood may spill and may fall.
Westeros, oh Westeros, my heart is with you,
From the wall to the mountains, our bulwarks so true,
To the land of our fathers, our hearts will be true.
Oh land of the Mountains, oh land of the Vales,
Whose heights and valleys are pure and so fair,
Blue murmuring trident, far echoing flood,
Fire the heart and quicken the blood.
Hearken now sons of snow, and the sons of the waves,
The sons of the Westlands, The sons of green plains,
The sons of grey storms and the strongest of gales,
The Sons of the dragon, oh sons of the West,
The breakers of chains, at freedoms behest.
We are the children of Westeros, and we fight all our lives,
And when the stranger us beckons, every one of us dies.
But the west, it is ours, and we will see kept clean, of slavers, of raiders, of others,
of all of the filth that sullies our hopes and our dreams.
Oh land of my mother, oh land of my love,
The crown of the gods, oh fair Westeros,
The land of the free, the land of the brave,
the land of the sunset, the Dragon's domain.
With fire and steel, we protect this land that we own,
The land of our kin, oh fair Westeros.
"Westeros the Fair" By Aenys Targaryen, first version. National Anthem of the kingdom of Westeros.
---
The throne room was absolutely packed with people.
There were plans for an enormous feasting hall for the castle in the future, but at the moment, that hall was unfinished, so the feast to celebrate the First King's Council wrapping up was held in the largest room in the castle.
Namely the Throne Room.
And so it was that all of her fathers many, many noble guests, along with men at arms, Knights of household, landed and the hedge variety all mingled beneath the gloomy sight of the Iron Throne.
Not that many were currently focused on the construct at the moment.
No, all were enjoying themselves at the feast.
Father had truly outdone himself regarding this party.
The music, the food, several inventions he had been keeping hidden, just to show them off at this party.
The ballads father had composed were generally a bunch of rather catchy tunes, including several of what he had dubbed the "Anthems" of Westeros as a whole, as well as several of the regions.
The best of whom had unquestionably been, "When winter comes", the regional anthem of the North.
It certainly was a much better tune than their national anthem, which she personally found a bit… Well, it just didn't sound as well as many of fathers other songs.
They were generally hits and misses as far as Rhaena was concerned.
Generally, father's songs were better when they were melancholic and sad, rather than cheerful and jolly.
Jenny of Oldstone(Apparently a song about a lady from the olden days of the fall of House Mudd), Eight bells(A sad song about a ship and her crew), and when winter comes, we're all good songs.
The piece her father was proudest over, however, and the one he had by far put the most work into was a March, he had simply called the Royal March. A melancholic and dark piece of music he had used to open up the party.
It was easily the piece of music that had stuck the hardest in her mind at the very least.
The songs, however, was far, far from the only thing people were getting to enjoy tonight.
As the melancholic song of Jenny and her ghosts were in the background, every man and woman attending was getting to enjoy the finest food this kingdom had to offer. Including all of the common foodstuffs of Westeros, there were also many new ones.
Alongside the Topped breads and Hamburgers, there were also quite a few other foods her father had designed, or imported from other parts of the world.
There were the casting cakes or waffles as her father called them, a nifty little innovation that only required one to roast some prepared liquid in a casting iron. They were decent enough on their own, but along with delicious strawberry jam made with the finest of sugar from Pentos, and local Crownlander strawberries red as blood, it was simply marvelous.
Both her girls were enjoying the waffles, Samantha, in particular, had consumed half a dozen of them, and was at the moment busy consuming yet one more.
Alayne, in Contrast, was busy consuming a more foreign dish from the far, far east. Father had hired on chefs from all of the known world or at least the ones that could be found in the free cities, for this feast.
And one of the strange and bizarre dishes that had been introduced was Saider-shi, a dish that took the insane combination of combining rice(A strange Easter plant which produced black and brown pellets that one ate) along with raw fucking fish.
It sounded and looked just as unappealing to Rhaena as that description would suggest.
Quite a lot of people at the feast though absolutely loved it, the Ironborn in particularly finding it absolutely delicious.
By her side, grand Aunt Visenya was eating a grilled shark, it's cut off pieces being truly enormous.
As it, stood, she was seated at the head of the table the royal family ate at, in the spot that usually would have been seated by father.
Their table was currently occupied by her family, as well as her father's three wards, Arya Arryn, as well as two newcomers to her father's court. Catelyn Tully, who was a daughter of Prentys Tully, and one Joanna Lannister, Daughter of Lyman Lannister.
All three were her Brothers Bethroeds.
She liked Arya well enough, the girl was fond of war stories, as well rather knowledgeable of much and more interesting lore and history.
That said, she wasn't anywhere near as close to her as she was to her brothers. Arya generally kept to herself when she could, and other than her the court of Justice, she rarely cared much for any arrangements that were held in the castle.
That said, she was a child, and as such Rhaena had better things to do with her time than babysit the girl.
The other two, however, were a different story.
Catelyn Tully was a girl only one age below Rhaena and as such, mother had put her to the task of being a friend and companion.
And as such the girl would follow on her heels as she and her girls moved about the court.
The girl was painfully shy, combined with the unfortunate fact that she was an idiot. The girl was far too believing in tales of Knights and heroes, and took far too much stock in such tales.
It was the difference between being raised on tales of the conquest, and tales of Florian the fool and jonquil, she supposed.
She was neither Rhaena type, nor did she consider her in any way, a fitting bride for her baby brother.
Scrawny, stupid, and a moron. Yet despite that, Visery seemed to like her. He would probably live up to her fantasies of Knights at the very least. Her brother had grown into the very image of politeness. Moreso than Aegon at least.
On the total other end of the rope was Joanna Lannister.
If Catelyn Tully was a scrawny girl, just beginning to enter womanhood, then Joanna was the very Image of someone who had been blessed by the gods with all the gifts of womanhood.
In her 19th year, Joanna was a true woman grown, with her long golden hair, a pretty face with full lips that were covered in a lipstick red as an apple, and with a body that put even Alayne to shame.
She had some of the largest teats Rhaena had ever seen in her life, her cleavage currently being lovingly put on display with an open front on her red silk dress.
Below, she had a very large set of what her mother had referred to as, a set of large, childbearing hips.
Rhaena might have taken interest in her herself, but she was not such a fool that she would ever try and seduce her brothers' future wives.
Also, in polar opposite of Catelyn, who was reserved and shy, Joanna was flat out seductive, Cunning, and witty.
Rhaena might have liked her a lot… If not for the fact that the target of her attention was her baby brother Aegon.
The 11-year-old prince, was, to put it mildly, starstruck by his future bride, something said bride did not fail to notice, and take full advantage off. Rhaena had seen enough noble ladies wrap young Knights and squires around their fingers to not recognize what she was doing.
Yes, she thought, as she watched the two of them eat and talk, Aegon was going to dance to this woman's tune soon enough. When he became king, this woman would have enormous powers over him and the throne.
Gods know where that would end.
At her side, her mother was biting into the meat from an Auroch hamburger with a stoic look on her face.
She'd been pretty stoic and cold these last few weeks, ever since father had put up her training regiment with her master.
At the moment though, she seemed to have made a point of not looking at father at all, which made Rhaena rather queer.
On one hand, she felt somewhat guilty for being the source of the friction between her parents, two people who she loved very, very much. On the other hand, she wished mother would get over it, and they could go back to the way things were supposed to be.
She couldn't keep up this damn feud forever…. Could she?
The other part of the strained couple was currently sitting by a board that was seated right by theirs, directly in front of the Iron throne, on the heightened Dias. Their two tables were the only two placed there, on the level just a bit higher than the rest of the room.
The table father sat on was a round one, with her father being seated so the Iron Throne was right behind him. The rest of the men seated were the Wardens and Lord Paramounts, or Grand Dukes as they now would be called.
On her father's sides sat Lord Arryn and Greyjoy, both of whom seemed to be in deep discussion with their king. They even ate the same dish he did, another queer eastern dish called Ram-men, essentially a bowl of hot water filled with spices, an egg, and long, weird, bendable straws.
Similarly long, white straws were also used for another of father's dishes, in this case being devoured by lord Tyrrell and Lannister. The dish, called pasta, was essentially the weird bendable straws being steamed, then dumped on a plate, with cheese parts and sauce thrown on top of it.
Eating it involved a lot of slurping, and like the ram-men, you ate it by twirling the straws around your fork.
It was, in her mind at least, an incredibly uncouth way to eat, and certainly not befitting lords and royalty.
Lord Stark apparently agreed, giving annoyed looks at Lannister and Tyrrell, as the enthusiastically downed the pasta in large portions.
Stark himself was enjoying more traditional food, eating large steaks of Aurochs meat. He had, however, fittingly enough, consumed several cups of another of her father's delicacies.
Shaved ice. Who knew you could make something truly delicious just a block of Ice, a knife, and some juice.
Of course, there was the problem of transporting Ice from far away without it melting. She doubted most lords would be able to afford it, and even for those who could(Like her family), this was a luxury that would only be possible in spring, before the frozen lakes had thawed.
Her grand uncle Orys enjoyed the pre-cut topped bread, though enjoying himself would imply he had a smile on his face as he ate. He did not and looked as cross and bitter as he always had.
She knew people said he had been a jovial and gregarious man in his youth, but she had never seen this part of him.
The only Orys Rhaena had ever known was a bitter, cynical man with a seething hatred towards the Dornish for taking his sword hand during the war.
He was, however, intensively loyal to their family, so she, as she had learned from her father, generally put up with his bitter comments and hatred towards the world. He was family after all.
Prestyn Tully was also enjoying the feast, gobbling up a large lemon cake, along with beer. Periodically, he glanced over to where his daughter was sitting alongside Prince Viserys, though what feelings he had regarding the sight, Rhaena could not tell.
Around the two tables, stood 8 guards, 7 men, and one woman.
She could her master's focus was on her exclusively. She could also tell that all of the Kingsguard disliked having her there, but as she was Rhaena's personal shield, handpicked by her father Himself, her place there was unquestioned.
Below the dais, was the rest of the room. Bards, musicians, serving folk, and all her father's guests filled the enormous hall.
The retinue of the Grand Dukes was mingling freely around one table and was currently well on their way to becoming the drunkest part of the room. They certainly were the most enthusiastic regarding getting the bards to sing.
On other tables were nobles, ladies and Knights, enjoying the food, the music, and periodically, someone got up to go take a look at her father's inventions in the corner of the room.
Said showcase of inventions had a variety of marvels, from the life-changing, such as the North pointer, a small device whose metal rod always pointed straight northwards, to the mundane, such as a cheese cutter, a new design for a kitchen tool.
There were a lot of things there, some that were large or small improvements on things they already had, and some that were completely alien in the very concept, such as a small wooden tower with a time machine near the top.
It was undoubtedly a fascinating sight, for nobles big and small, as well as hedge Knights.
Her father had been surprisingly generous with the hedge Knights that had come to this celebration.
There was a tourney on the morrow, of course, to celebrate the occasion and such it was proper and right to offer them hospitality. That was the privilege of having a ser in front of one's name after all. One had a place at a lords home during tourneys and such celebration.
Still, her father had been very open about the invitation, and encouraged all Knights of the Crown lands to attend if they wished, hedge, landed, or household Knights.
And here, in his own hall, he treated them no different than any other Knights, giving them the same food and hospitality as All the rest.
Her father truly was a generous king.
However, she was starting to understand that there was more to it than that.
She didn't know exactly what, but from what she could tell, she realized that this was only a prelude. From words she had picked up from her father, she understood he was planning something even larger than this, though what exactly that was, she had no idea.
She had asked, and all he had said, was that she would get to see his games, in due time.
Whatever that meant.
---
I was tired. So damned tired.
One week of parliament had felt like it had taken me two months, just to slog through every damn little thing I needed to cover.
From new laws(And man, was it gonna be fun making the legal codex of Westeros, and sort through 8 millennia of laws, to decide what would stay, what would go, and what would need to change.), to the discussion of the new Dragon Bank of Westeros, to going over every damn province in the kingdom and cover the roads, the settlements, the castles, the bridges, the Mines, and everything else.
Holy shit I was tired from it. Even tonight, as I just feasted, and feasted and had a good time, I still couldn't just rest. No, I had to talk and talk with my grand Dukes.
This whole parliament had been very enlightening on who wanted change, and who did not.
Arryn and Greyjoy were the most malleable to my plans. Lannister and Tully didn't really care, but both wanted royal patronage and was willing to play their parts in exchange for their respective marriages. Stark and Tyrrell didn't actually want large scale change, but only Stark had the balls to be somewhat defiant. And my uncle didn't give a shit but would follow me.
What I had also learned was that most of them wanted something specific to themselves, as one could expect from feudal politics.
Tyrrell and Tully wanted more centralized power and legitimacy in order to effectively rule. Arryn just really, really wanted a royal marriage, and for me to play my promised part in the coming war.
Lannister wanted me to make the bank of Westeros, which as the largest supplier of gold, would make him one of the most influential men on the continent by default.
Stark wanted me to make a northern canal but vehemently wanted me to make it further north and leave the neck alone. In general, he had been very cold to all my plans for the north in one way or another.
Greyjoy wanted canals as well, but he also wanted the opportunity to make full use of my new trade order, so he could make voyages all the way Asshai and beyond.
My uncle was the only one who didn't want anything. He would follow, but he made no secret that he really didn't care.
That was fine. So long as I had his obedience, I could work with it.
Work. It was all so much work.
It was like with every single problem or plan I laid or put into motion, three new ones popped up to take its place.
And there would be no rest on the morrow. No, on the morrow, there was the damned tourney to deal with. I had to find out a rough estimate of just how large a crowd I could draw from the Stormlands on a sports event.
There was much I wouldn't be able to do before the war started, but one thing I was adamant about, was that I would begin with a project I had originally been planning to get on the road, later down the line, but I had realized that if I did want to do it in spring, I would need to do it before the war, or not at all.
My own great games. Yes, I needed them. Both to showcase, and forge a symbol of national unity for all to see, but also to-.
My thoughts were interrupted by my Master, who had discreetly been making his way along the walls but was now walking up to the dais, clearly on his way towards me.
I held up my hand to shut up Arryn who was chatting about who he thought was going to win. The Grand Duke of the Vale became silent, and his eyes followed mine, as well as Greyjoys.
Grand Maester Gawen was an old man, but not quite in the maester aemon territory just yet. He very much did not look like someone who was about to fall over at any moment, and I knew he would last a number of years yet if he was not killed.
"Maester." I greeted him as he came to the table. "Anything I need to know, or do you simply wish to partake in the feast?".
The man did not chuckle, and instead, he handed me a letter.
"We just got this letter… From the lord of Driftmark."
I blinked as I took the letter in hand, and noticing the shade of blue on the wax seal, as well as the seahorse of House Velaryon.
Pulling out a knife, I cut open the letter and began to read, the words from cousin Daemon, who I had sent over half a year ago, to buy freedom for men, make deals with the free cities, and work on a critical part of my steamships.
Volantis, Tyrosh, Braavos, and Lys had rejected my offer to acknowledge my claim of sovereignty of the Stepstones.
The rest had agreed and promised large sums of money, and good trade deals in exchange for dealing with the Dothraki.
The freed slaves were almost twice the number I had asked for, a feat Daemon credit his "Contacts".
And apparently his ships Wright had been making some progress, though he hadn't clarified exactly how much, so going there to check up on the progress was something I would need to do in person.
Still. With a smile on my face, I put the parchment back in the letter before I handed it back to the Maester.
"Take this to my chambers, but do not go to bed, I'll be writing a reply after the party is over."
He nodded, and put the letter away in some pocket in his sleeves, before walking away.
"Good news?" Tully asked, sounding generally curious. The rest of the Grand Dukes, also turned, generally looking curious.
"Yes. Velaryon's mission to Essos has seemingly been a rousing success."
---
When winter comes...
When life is frozen...
When the moors they hide away under the snow…
Fingers of doom...
Will clutch the chosen…
All beasts will shiver, from the lion to the crow…
When winter comes...
When times are starkest...
When the wailing of the wolves fades with the sun...
The wilds are numb…
The days are darkest…
The fates of many cease to rest on only one…
Walls will not hold the winter…
Over and under crawl…
Walls will not hold the winter…
All in the way will fall…
When winter comes…
When thrones are idle…
When the brave they cower under eyes of blue…
The rising roar…
The endless cycle…
Turns the darkest myths of yesterday to truth…
Walls will not hold the winter…
Over and under crawl…
Walls will not hold the winter…
All in the way will fall…
Walls will not hold the winter…
Over and under crawl…
Walls will not hold the winter…
All in the way will fall…
"When Winter Comes" by Aenys Targaryen, regional Anthem of the Grand Duchy of the North.