Being faced with several unappetising choices was often what one
had to deal with and having unfortunate experience in this did not
really make dealing with them any easier. The Stormlands, hacked
down in size to make way for the new so called Thronelands, was in
a state of crisis and partial open revolt.
Many of the Lords were unhappy with the turn of events after the end
of the war, seeing for one the lack of Small Council seats compared
to the Reach as an abject failure on her part. That many of these
'Lords' were second or third sons, or even cousins or brothers of the
former Lords, did not seem to have made them cautious about their
positions. On the contrary, this newest crop of Lords seemed to be
as bad, if not worse, than the many who had been incinerated in
what some were calling the 'forest of fires'.
Add to this those dammed Dornish cunts who of course were up to
their old tricks of raiding into the Marches and causing problems for
all concerned. The winter weather in the Marches was mild enough,
in fact it was perfect for growing crops, and if not for the Dronish the
Marches would have been able to provide a significant surplus of
food for the years of this winter. And this surplus would have
provided tax revenue to fill the dangerously empty coffers of House
Baratheon, emptied by her husband's spending during the war and
by her hiring three thousand northern cavalry to help defend the
Marches.
These northern men should be arriving in the upper Marches about
now, and she had hired them for the duration of winter, at decent
enough rates it had to be said, Lord Stark had not gouged her like
some of the mercenary companies that she had approached initially
had.
And many of these northmen were second and third sons, or the
equivalent of landless knights, many could be expected to settle in
the Marches as opposed to travelling back north at the end of winter.
Many was the Marcher daughter or even widow that would find
herself a northern husband, like many Riverlander women had
apparently.
But what she really needed was a decent sized military force to drive
back the Dornish and more importantly dissuade them from raiding
in the first place.
And there was really no available force in Westeros for that, most of
the military force of the Stormlands was dust and ash, burnt alive by
Vermithor and Seasmoke, mercenaries were in short supply due to
the wars wracking Essos as the Three Daughters tore themselves
apart.
This left her really with no other option than dragons, and in reality
one dragon, Vermithor, and its rider Prince Hugh. The other dragons
were too small, and ridden by the royal children, so they were out,
Ser Addam and his dragon Seasmoke were under the control of the
Lord Regent, and Lord Corlys was unlikely to let her have use of this
dragon, or its rider for that matter.
Added to this fact that none of her three daughters seemed to have
the slightest bit of interest in Ser Addam as a potential husband, not
that she could really blame them. The boy suffered in comparison as
he was neither the King, nor Prince Hugh.
Of the King her daughters had a reasonable interest in, especially
Cassandra, who dreamed, no, dreamed was probably too weak a
word….lusted, yes lusted after being Queen. She had intervened on
more than one occasion to restrain the girl from her more foolish
plots and notions, and the more she thought about it the more she
knew that she had to marry Cassandra outside of the immediate
court, if only to curb her predilection to engage in court intrigues. A
marriage to a Lord far from Kings Landing would be best, and
probably to an older Lord with children already…..she would think
further on this matter.
Ellyn and Floris were, she had to say, only mildly interested in the
King's hand, both, especially Ellyn, seemed much more interested in
Prince Hugh as a husband, though Ellyn seemed to be equally
interested in teasing every boy she met with her ample teats. Floris
liked the Prince, of that she was sure, given the way she would blush
at the mention of his name and how she was often coy and shy
around the Prince when they met him, unlike her two older sisters,
who were not shy about being very, very forwards with Prince Hugh.
She had even considered approaching Prince Hugh herself and
offering him the position of Lord Protector of the Stromlands until her
son Royce came of age. With his dragon he would scour the
Marches of the Dornish, able to react to their raids and potentially
burn them with impunity.
But the lure of having a dragon to deal with the raids of the Dornish
was she knew secondary to her desire for Prince Hugh, and it was
desire she knew, a woman's desire, that drew her to considering re
marrying so soon after the death of her husband Lord Borros.
He had not been a cruel man, nor had he ever struck her, and he
had never strayed from her bed to seek comforts in the arms of
another woman during their marriage. Borros had been many things,
uncultured, somewhat uncouth, illiterate, but he was not stupid
enough to risk the pleasures he received in his marriage bed. Her
mother had taught her well, for while what resided between a
woman's legs was a source of power, it was with her mouth that a
woman would often rule her husband. Both in what she said and
what she did with her mouth, and how even the most angry and
stubborn of men could be brought around with the proper application
to their pillar of lips and tongue.
Borros had never been able to deny her when she truly wanted
something, and he had been much more amenable to discussions
and talks about the Stormlands and their ruling after a good draining
of his stones into her belly.
She was sure that Prince Hugh would be the same, but she was
equally sure that the Lord Regent would never allow her to marry
Prince Hugh, he would never allow such power as represented by
Vermithor to slip away from his and the Iron Throne's grasp, despite,
or maybe because of the fact his family had a dragon of their own.
But one of her daughters? The Lord Regent would find it more
difficult to block that, not that he would not try, Lord Corlys had little
love lost for House Baratheon it seemed.
House Lannister was still much in evidence around the Red Keep,
the two Lannister daughters busy trying to outshine every other maid
and corner two of the three most eligible men available. That they
appeared to be having little success despite their lavish spending
was at least something to be grateful for, many would have thought
that the Lannister chits would long be married off already, based
solely on the amount of coin the Lannister's were able to bring to
bear.
And the very fact that Princess Jaehaera still lived was as much a
testament to the skill of whomever Lord Corlys had assigned to
protecting the girl as it was to the support the girl had among the
Reach lords, chief among them Lord Ormund Hightower, Hand of the
King.
A rather ruthless bastard that one was, and she trusted him not one
whit, and she knew that a showdown between Lord Corlys and Lord
Ormund was inevitable, and probably at most a few weeks away. It
might be wise to temporarily leave the Red Keep along with her
daughters, just to be on the safe side, though this might draw undue
attention to House Baratheon, both before and in the aftermath,
when scapegoats and patsies would need to be found.
No, probably best to stay, though she would dispatch a raven asking
for more Knights and Men at Arms from Storms End to be
dispatched with all haste to her, for she feared greatly that the Red
Keep would once again drip with blood like it did during the Day of
Fire and Blood.
Her musings were disturbed by her captain of guards, announcing
that Prince Hugh was here to see her.
Despite everything her heart went into a flutter, and she struggled to
compose herself for a second or two, before he bid the captain of
guards admit Prince Hugh to her presence.
The man himself entered a minute later, handsome in a brutal
looking way, as opposed to the almost unearthly way that others of
the Old Blood did, the influence of his smallfolk blood diluting the
magic of the Valyrian blood he possessed no doubt.
Still, she would not refuse him into her bed, for all that…..
After the required curtsy from her and bow from him she spoke,
resisting the very, very great temptation to purr like some satisfied
mountain lioness confronting her prey. "Prince Hugh, what brings
you here to see me? Should I call for my daughters, or mayhaps only
one of them?"
In spite of everything she delighted in this teasing, noticing the
slightest of flushes cross the Prince's face. He was dressed in what
had become his usual garb, a double-breasted coat, which was
apparently called a 'sack coat', trousers and boots. The very fine,
dark felted wool the coat was made from was edged at the collar and
cuffs with yellow, a yellow silk sash was wrapped around his waist, a
yellow seam ran down the outside of his black trousers. She could
not help but notice the colours and their potential meaning, and she
felt her heart race once more.
"I have need of House Baratheon's backing, the truth about certain
matters relating to the end of the war have been made available to
me, and I wish to put them right."
Inside her mind it churned with the possibilities, of what the Prince
really meant, and did this mean that one of her daughters would be
Queen? Or a Princess?
"Your House is in dire need of allies, and I am in need of its support
and its arms, if needed. Pick me a wife from among your
daughters…."
She did not hesitate for even a second. "Lady Floris, my youngest,
would make the best wife for your Grace."
"Done." Came the equally swift and decisive reply, the Prince's face
shadowed by a strong will striving to keep its true emotions hidden.
"Should, should I call for my daughters to announce the good
news?" she asked, letting the smallest hints of triumph lift her voice.
"No, this is between you and me for now. Do not spread word of this,
or there will be….unfortunate consequences…."
She knew a threat when she heard one, so she bowed her head, "of
course your Grace."
"I will let you know what is needed of House Baratheon at a later
stage, in the meantime do not give our enemies cause to suspect
anything."
"Yes your Grace," and with that Prince Hugh made his apologies and
departed.
Well now, was that not a rather unexpected turn of events, a
daughter betrothed to a Prince no less! And with barely any cost or
effort expended, for the Prince himself had come direct to her.
Though the actual price in reality would be high, for it looked like
Prince Hugh was making a bid for the Iron Throne himself. And was
that not a bad idea, given all the unpleasantries they had just
endured?
She pondered this in her mind, the balance of forces involved were
different, all the parties involved were concentrated in the Red Keep
or Kings Landing…..she would ask Storms End for triple the men
she had originally considered and have them make absolute haste to
the Red Keep.
But in the meantime, while she could not tell Floris of her impending
nuptials, there was nothing stopping her from preparing the girl for
life as a wife. And in particular in preparing her in the arts necessary
to cleave her husband ever more tightly to her and bind him with the
pleasurable work of tongue and mouth.