Ellena
The court of King Aegon was makeshift at best, pitiful at worst and Ellena could say this from just the few times she had been at an actual court. His Great Hall in Dragonstone was far grander and so had been her father’s mansion and the Sea Lord’s palace back home in Braavos. The Aegonfort meanwhile was not even fully constructed yet, a wooden hall with a leaky roof, dark, cramped and by no means worthy of a king. She had heard that this was not its final design, that the lumberjacks were working on a new, grander hall and that this was only to give the king a place to hold court in the meantime. Either way, it was a stark contrast to the ancient, dark splendour of Dragonstone she had gotten accustomed to over the last few weeks. Just why King Aegon would decide to move his household, his family and his seat of power to this place eluded her.
That being said, she did not regret going with Cassandra. The girl had gotten them a good spot close to one of the heavy wooden columns that supported the roof, where it was not only dry, but where they had a good overview of the entire hall and Aegon’s court. And though the location could certainly be improved upon, the Aegonfort was already able to boost what she considered to be the most impressive court in all Westeros. Surely it had to be, when Aegon himself was sitting there on his wooden throne, the very image of what a king should look like. He had switched into a heavy vestment, one side red and the other black, parted in the middle and with black and red dragons on each side, with crown, the heavy black circlet, was resting on his head. One hand was clenched around Blackfyre, his bastard sword, the dark blade shimmering faintly in the dim light of the surrounding torches and the two large braziers that had been placed on each side of the wooden platform the king and his queens resided upon.
Visenya sat to his right, a sight no less imposing than that of her brother. Unlike him, she still wore the attire she had been riding with, a light armour, chainmail with thin plates on top of it. Her cloak was fresh, however, a heavy, black piece of fur draped around her shoulders, held together by a red sash across her chest. Dark Sister, her sword, rested on her lap, one of her fingers softly moving along the edge. Though her face betrayed no emotion, her eyes were sharp and attentive, carefully looking at each of the supplicants that had appeared before the throne.
By contrast, Rhaenys was all smiles as she sat to Aegon’s left. She had taken the time to switch into a lavish dress of the kind she loved to wear whenever possible. This one tightly covered her body all the way up to the neck and kept mostly in red, with black crowns sewn into the upper half of it. A thin black belt was wrapped around her waist, though it held no scabbard, for the queen, unlike her brother and sister, was usually unarmed.
The three dragons were not present and just before entering the hall, Ellena had seen Meraxes and Vhagar taking off to the bay, perhaps in search of food. Only Balerion remained near the Aegonfort, having found himself a clearing to rest upon. From the outside, his deep breaths could be heard, but in here the noise of a hundred people cramped into a medium-sized hall drowned it out.
The king and his queens were flanked by Cassandra’s father, Ser Daghan Oxus and Vahaegar Caentaris, Hemys’ betrothed. While the former had a frightful visage, with his scarred face and bald head, he had always been kind to Ellena and clearly loved his daughter dearly. Vahaegar meanwhile wasn’t a man she had spoken a lot to. He was well-spoken and polite, but there was something unsettling about him and his eyes were deep, dark pools, ever calm and distant.
Slightly behind the throne, half-hidden in the shadows, sat Aegon’s advisers. Laevon Raelgaeron, Hemys’ father, sat next to Archmaester Wulvren and Visedar Solus. To the far left, closer to Rhaenys than to Aegon, stood Gregor Harlaw together with Serysha and Wimp from his crew. The rest of his men were still outside, tending to his longboat, but the captain and his most trusted sailors naturally joined the king’s men, even though they clearly did not fit in with the Targaryen knights that flanked them.
To the other side, Ellena spotted some of the king’s newer bannermen. Lord Rosby was the oldest of them and from what she had seen they all respected him, so even though he was neither the strongest nor most cunning of their lot he seemed to have become their unofficial spokesman at Aegon’s court. By his side stood the young Simon Stokeworth whom she recognized from the day she had first met the three dragons. There was a tall, lean man with dark hair and dull, grey eyes, his tabard depicting a large, black bat. He was quietly speaking to Dana Darke, the warrior woman sworn to Robin Darklyn, the young boy who had been given as a ward to the king after his father’s death in battle, equal parts a ward and a hostage.
From her position, Ellena could see several men who had gathered in front of the throne. Most of them were commoners, clad in simple, but warm garbs, though a few men who seemed to be lords or at least knights were present as well, all gathered before the throne. They were talking to each other right now, while Ser Laevon whispered something to the king.
This gave Ellena a moment to admire the courtiers. For such a makeshift court, there was already a sizeable number of highborn sons and daughters who were out just to present themselves, to see and be seen. From their banners, she recognized a few who had to belong to House Rosby, including a young man with a remarkable resemblance to Lord Regis, as well as several courtiers who wore the colours of houses Velaryon and Celtigar. The portly Lord Crispian was among them, surrounded by children, nephews and nieces.
Another large group belonged to House Velaryon. Even though she did not recognize their colours, she recognized Asher standing among them. He noticed her as well and briefly waved his hand at her, accompanied by a wide, goofy grin. He was one of the few people here who visibly enjoyed themselves, most of the courtiers were appropriately stern, some, such as Dana Darke, even made it clear through looks alone that they would much rather be anywhere else, serving any other king. Of course, while half of the houses present had bent the knee out of their own will, the other half had been forced into Aegon’s service, some had even suffered losses to the king and his dragons. As such, Ellena could almost feel the resentment some of the gathered noblemen had for their king. All that kept them in line were his dragons and, as she assumed, the fact that the alternatives were not any better. Before bending the knee, all of those lords had either served the warmonger Argilac Durrandon or Harren the Black, whose cruelty was famous even beyond the Narrow Sea.
Just then, Laevon Raelgaeron cleared his throat. “The king will now hear the supplicants!”, he proclaimed, his loud, clear voice cutting through any idle chatter the courtiers had amongst each other, silencing the entire room. He remained next to the throne, halfway between the king and any supplicant who would approach.
The first to approach was a nobleman, a tall, but fat man with a double chin barely covered by a patchy beard. His head was similarly filled with bald patches, even though he did not strike her as that old. Still, there was something warm and kind on his red face, a genuine smile and a calm, cunning gaze that reminded her of Lord Rosby. He wore a cloak of green and white, though the knight by his side instead displayed a brindled boar on his cloak. This man was not much younger, with a full, bushy beard and a strong build. Both men knelt side by side as soon as they got closer to the throne.
“Lord Hosteen Hayford, Lord of Hayford, as well as Ser Leyton Hogg, the heir of Sow’s Horn”, Laevon introduced them. Both men lowered their heads. “Your grace!”, Lord Hosteen intoned. “I, Hosteen of House Hayford, pledge my fealty to House Targaryen and to Aegon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and…” He paused and glanced at the knight to his right, who gave him a nod. “Protector of the Realm”, he whispered and Hosteen’s eyes widened. “And Protector of the Realm!”, he proclaimed.
To Ellena’s surprise, a rare, but genuine smile appeared on Aegon’s face, just the hint of it, but without the stern expression he seemed a decade younger and surprisingly kind. “You are most welcome here, Lord Hayford. You are the last Lord of Blackwater Bay to kneel, but I bear no grudge against you for your caution. And you, Ser Leyton, I hope your father is well” The knight, Leyton Hogg, shook his head. “He is bedridden and infirm, your grace. His health is of great concern to my family”, he replied. “But he has sent me in his stead and my oath shall be as good as his own”
“So be it”, Aegon confirmed. “Your oaths of fealty are accepted. You shall be welcome at my court and in my service” On his command, both men rose to their feet and joined their fellow lords. There was relief on everyone’s faces, even the stern-faced knight with the bat on his sigil let out a relieved sigh as he gave Ser Leyton a hearty pat on the back, though his perpetual frown remained. And just like that, after winning a single battle, Aegon had taken control of the entirety of Blackwater Bay. If Asher could be believed, then this was the first time in thousands of years that one king ruled over this entire land.
The next supplicant was of noble birth as well, at least judging by the colours he wore, for his cloak was white and brown, with a bear’s paw depicted on it. The rest of his clothes were surprisingly shabby, however, with old boots and torn pants, dusty from the road. He had a youthful face, but was already greying, his expression bitter and his small eyes staring around in quiet contempt. Of course Ellena had never seen the sigil on his cloak before, but judging by the reactions around her, the same was true for most of the courtiers here.
Even Laevon needed a second to recognize the man. “Lord Brune of the Dyre Den”, he announced the man. “Trymon Brune if I’m not mistaken?” The man narrowed his eyes in sudden anger, before shaking his head. “Lord Trymon was my father”, he proclaimed. “I am Lorren Brune, Lord of the Dyre Den, the strongest lord of Crackclaw Point”
“Which is not that impressive. There’s barely a lord there, in the untamed lands”, Cass whispered next to her and Ellena had to stifle a smirk. She had heard of Crackclaw Point before, the untamed wilderness of Westeros, where none but petty lords and outlaws dwelled. This man seemed to be both at the same time.
His presence caused a small commotion among the other lords. Crispian Celtigar in particular frowned at him, his head red as a beet. “Your grace, that man is nothing but a thug!”, he growled. “And a murderer on top. Several of my tax collectors are lost each year to this man and his cronies” Lord Brune merely shrugged at the accusation. “I wouldn’t call them tax collectors, for they have no right to collect on our ancestral lands”, he replied. “And yet, you don’t see me accusing you of sending robbers to my keep. I have not come for our petty feud, Old Crab, but to see the last of the Dragonlords. I have come to demand justice”
Lord Celtigar was about to say something else, but Aegon cut him off by raising a hand. “I would like to hear this man out, Crispian. Your contested claims on Crackclaw Point shall not be discussed today”, he stated firmly, before he turned back to Lord Brune. “And what justice would you seek from me, mylord? To my knowledge my house has never wronged yours and even though you have yet to bend the knee, I can assure you that I do not consider you an enemy”
“Likewise, King Aegon”, Lorren Brune growled and his dry tone actually earned him a smirk from Rhaenys. Visenya was less thrilled by his attitude, but Ellena knew that he would be safe from her fury as long as Rhaenys was entertained. “You have not wronged me, nor has any man under your command, not even Celtigar. No, I seek justice for my father, who has been murdered by one of your enemies”
Aegon leant forward, his fists clenched, before he gave him a nod. “I am listening, Lord Brune”, he promised and the other man sighed. “It happened several months ago. Had I been at the Dyre Den back then, things would have ended differently, but alas, I was at Maidenpool with my brother. My father was alone, just he and a few men-at-arms, though there was a hedge knight who was supposed to protect him. One day they received visitors sent by the Bronze Lord, Orson Royce”
“The Lord of Runestone”, Laevon replied towards his king. “He is the most powerful and dangerous man in the Vale and a fierce enemy once we move our attention towards it” Lorren shook his head as he heard these words. “See, I am not so sure about that”, he replied. “I heard the Bronze Lord has some grievance with the queen regent. He’s always been a two-faced weasel, so I know that he’ll come begging for his life once you march against him”
“I fail to see how that would be an issue”, Laevon remarked. “House Royce can muster more men than any single house in this room. Their lands are spread across the southern Vale, which means they control most of the Bay of Crabs. A surrender of Lord Royce would force the same from Lord Grafton, since his seat at Gulltown cannot be defended against a threat from within the Vale” He looked back at Lord Brune, eyebrows raised. “I wager you bring a better offer to the table?”
The man shook his head. “Not in numbers”, he growled. “But I offer to bend the knee right now. I can field a hundred men-at-arms who can join your forces in a month from now. Plus, I know the houses of Crackclaw Point, the very same your Lord Celtigar has famously failed to reign in. They will not bend the knee, they will hide in the valleys and caves and you won’t find all of them until you have burned the entire peninsula to the ground”
“Then perhaps we should do that”, Visenya remarked coldly, to Aegon’s visible displeasure. “I have no intention of burning Crackclaw Point”, he promised. “I take it you can offer me a better solution?” To this, Lorren Brune gave him a firm nod. “Crackclaw Point has never known a king”, he spoke, looking from Aegon to Rhaenys, then Visenya. “Nor queen. That is because no king ever went there. I know the men you need to impress. Crabb and Pyne and Hardy, I can get them to meet you. Let them see your dragons. Let them see your worth and Crackclaw Point will be yours. There’s not many of us, but we are loyal to whatever end”
“And in return?”, Aegon asked, his tone calm and without any indication how he felt about the offer. “In return I demand justice”, Brune spoke. “The visitors I mentioned, they slew my father in his own hall, aided by the treacherous hedge knight who was sworn to protect him. I later found out that he as well was paid off by Lord Royce. He must be held accountable for it. They all must”
“That is a heavy accusation”, Aegon stated. “If true, then your demands are reasonable. There shall be justice in my kingdom. Should he survive the war to come, Lord Royce shall be put on trial and then we shall see the truth of it” Lorren Brune was quiet for a moment, with his back turned towards Ellena. She could only see his clenched fists, as he contemplated what he had just heard. Finally, he gave the king a nod. “That is… acceptable”, he agreed, before he saluted in front of the king. “Do we have a deal then? You and I, we visit the houses of Crackclaw Point, convince them to yield and in return, you promise to put Lord Royce on trial for what he did?”
“And the heads of his henchmen”, Aegon added. This got a fierce reaction from Lord Celtigar, who shook his head, walking past his guards and towards Lord Brune. “Your grace, I must protest!”, he barked. “This man cannot be trusted. He mostly likely intends to lure you into a trap. Why, I wager it was Harren the Black who sent him here”
“Are you accusing me of anything, Old Crab?”, Brune hissed, but before the other lord could reply, a dark chuckle caught them off. It was Visenya, who had been quiet until now, who leant forward. “That would be a foolishness beyond compare”, she stated, her gaze firmly resting on the Lord of the Dyre Den, who met it without any outward fear. “If you were to lead me into an ambush, you would be the first to die. Vhagar will make sure of it”
It was not an empty threat, as Ellena had noticed already. Even though all three of the dragons were fearsome beasts, there was something about Vhagar that matched her rider, a thirst of battle that outmatched even that of the older, larger Balerion. The Black Dread was a surprisingly quiet dragon for a creature of his size, but Vhagar’s roars had often echoed across Dragonstone at night.
To his credit, Lorren Brune did not react to her words. He merely gave the queen a nod. “I am ready when you are, Queen Visenya”, he confirmed. “We will meet with my uncle at Brownhollow first. House Brune will stand together in the wars to come” He looked back at the king. “There has never been a king of Crackclaw Point, none we have ever recognized, for no one has ever recognized us. If you give us a spot at your court, if you treat us as you’d treat the big houses, the Lannisters and Durrandons and Starks, then we shall be yours”
“Then so it shall be. You and every lord of Crackclaw Point that bends the knee shall be considered a direct vassal to the throne”, Aegon decided, to Lord Brune’s visible relief, while Lord Celtigar’s head turned red as a beet. “That’s a fucking mistake…”, the Lord of Claw Isle mumbled, but he did not speak up about the king’s decision. Instead, he stood back, as Lord Brune joined the other mainland lords, out of whom only Lord Rosby seemed even remotely glad to have the uncouth man in their midst.
“Next we have…”, Laevon began, as the next supplicant approached the throne. It was a commoner, an ox of a man, nearly seven feet tall and with a mop of jet black hair covering his head and his thick neck. His build reminded Ellena of Bakr the Ghiscari, with huge arms and a broad chest, sculpted by countless hours of manual labour. His skin was sunburnt and his face covered by a short, patchy stubble.
Just as he approached the throne, the man behind him stepped forth. Unlike him, this one was clearly of noble birth, a skinny man with a gaunt face, more bone than fat, with short, brown hair and sunken eyes of the same colour. He wore a fine, blue mantle with a small, silver dolphin embroidered on it and without missing a beat, he stepped past the commoner.
“Your grace, I believe I have waited long enough”, he spoke. “Certainly longer than a common woodsman” He took a deep bow in front of the king and while Rhaenys was clearly amused by his behaviour, neither Visenya nor Aegon were. The older queen narrowed her eyes, while Aegon remained outwardly calm and yet, Ellena knew that he was not pleased with this. “And who might you be?”, he asked, to which the man made a wide gesture. “Ah, where are my manners?”, he proclaimed. “Where indeed?”, Rhaenys mumbled.
Now, the man took another step towards the throne, which caused Laevon to raise one hand. Immediately, Ser Daghan and Ser Vahaegar stepped forward, hands on their swords, causing the nobleman to back off immediately. “That would be close enough, Lord Lowther”, Laevon spoke, his voice calm, but ice cold. “What business could one of Mern Gardener’s bannermen have at the true king’s court?”
The man, Lord Lowther, grimaced briefly, but he regained his smile swiftly. It was wide, not without its charm, but entirely forced. “Hobert Lowther”, he introduced himself. “Lord of Mander’s Mouth. I have come to your court with a, dare I say, most interesting proposition, so if you could…” Aegon did not let him finish. “Good”, he growled. “You can stand back now. I will hear my own subject first, before listening to a man sworn to Mern Gardener” Lord Lowther frowned, but he was clearly not foolish enough to protest. Instead, he took a step back, giving the commoner a reluctant nod. “Of course…”, he mumbled. “Please, go ahead”
The huge man who had been about to introduce himself before Lowther had interrupted him stepped forth again. “Yes, I… thank you, your grace. M’lord”, he began, his voice shaky with nervousness. “I’m Carth. Carth Nerisial. I, uh, I speak for the lumberjacks of Rosby’s Wood. Of… of your wood, I guess. Me and my men actually chopped down the trees you used for this hall, so…” A surprisingly shy, but genuine smile flashed across the huge man’s face. “That’s nice, I think”
“How very fascinating”, Rhaenys interjected, her tone sweeter than the intent behind it. Quite a few of the courtiers smirked at her comment. Carth bowed deeply in front of the queen. “Thank you, your grace”, he spoke, seemingly oblivious to the barely hidden boredom in her voice. “We know it’s not much yet, but give us enough time and the people shall build you a keep that is worthy of you. The three of you, it’s… It’s truly an honour to serve you”
A calm smile flashed across Aegon’s face, as he briefly reached out to clasp Rhaenys’ hand. “Why do you stand before the throne today, Carth?”, he asked, his tone firm, but not unfriendly. The huge man straightened his back, before he took a deep breath. “It’s… it’s about the bandits, your grace” Immediately, Aegon’s smile faded, replaced by the stern, cold look she knew him for. “What bandits?”, he growled, looking from Carth to the lords Celtigar and Rosby. The former could not meet his gaze. “I think I know what he’s talking about…”, Celtigar admitted. “Outlaws are not uncommon in these lands. There’s no larger town nearby, the lords are fairly weak, this region has been of little concern for the kings of these lands for many years and the wilds, they are quite untamed, quite untamed indeed. It is only natural for lawless men to flourish”
“They ambushed us while we were in the woods, chopping, uh, wood”, Carth added, as Aegon looked back at him. “They never attacked our kind before, nothing to take I guess, but this time they came at us, with spear and bow. They cornered us and cut down any who resisted, but spared those who gave up. That’s when their leader approached us, a beast of a man with only one hand and a blade in place of the one he was missing. The other men called him Gunther. He told us to relay a message to the new king”
“Bandits?”, Visenya hissed in sheer disbelief. “Who do they think they are that they could parley with us?” Carth took a deep breath. “They… I believe they call themselves the Lordslayers, your grace”, he spoke, his tone a bit shaky now that he was faced with her glare. “They’ve been around for years, but never attacked the smallfolk before, so we thought we’d be safe even if we chop wood in their territory”
“Those woods belong to your king”, Visenya corrected him. “But entertain us, Carth. What message were you told to relay?” She leant forwards, one hand clenched around the hilt of Dark Sister, though her brother and sister were notably calmer. Rhaenys even gave him an encouraging nod. “Go ahead, good man”, she spoke. “You have nothing to fear from us” After a moment of contemplation, Visenya gave him a nod as well and the man calmed down a bit.
“Gunther told us that he welcomes the new king in these lands”, he spoke. “He claims that the Lordslayers want a new beginning for Westeros as much as you do. And he said that a new beginning cannot be built upon the sins of the past. If you were to put all the lords who have wronged the smallfolk to the sword, then he and the Lordslayers would be glad to join forces with you. He also invited you to meet with them, to discuss terms”
A moment of baffled silence followed. For once, Rhaenys seemed unsure what to say, while a terrifying smile flashed across Visenya’s face. Aegon meanwhile remained quiet and calm. “Thank you, Carth”, he spoke after a few moments of contemplation. “It was brave to come here and tell me this. The last king who ruled over these lands would have punished you for their misdeeds. I have no intention of following his example. By chance, did he mention any lords by name?” Carth straightened his back. “I… will not be punished for this?”, he asked, to which Aegon gave him the faintest hint of a smile. “Not in the slightest”, he promised.
“Lord Celtigar”, the man then replied at once, to the visible anger of the lord in question. “And lords Darklyn, Sunglass and Stokeworth. A couple of lords from the north as well, whose names I’ve never heard before. Bracker and Fray and Mutten, I think” Aegon shook his head. “Bracken, Frey and Mooton”, he corrected him. “The latter has already sworn his loyalty to me and I hope to convince the former two in time. As such, no part of his offer shall be considered”
“Your grace, if I may”, the dour-faced knight with the bat on his tabard spoke up. Aegon gave him a nod. “Ser Gilfer Lothston”, he greeted him. “You may speak” The knight briefly bowed before his king, before he continued. “I am familiar with these outlaws”, he revealed. “You must know, there are many of their kind in the Riverlands, some of them decent people who have merely taken up fight against the tyrant at Harrenhal, others not so much”
“None here doubt your knowledge on the topic, Ser Gilfer”, Aegon assured him. “I assume you know them as the latter type?” The knight gave him a grim nod. “These Lordslayers, they are outlaws of the worst kind”, Gilfer confirmed. “They have been a terror in these lands for many years. At first they were rebels, prisoners who escaped from the quarries and lumber mills where Harren got the stone and wood he needed for his keep, but it didn’t take long for them to lose their way. They grow their ranks by recruiting bandits, murderers on the run and broken men, mostly and they have lost any reason long ago”
“I figured that much when they called for the death of my sworn bannermen, yes”, Aegon confirmed, his dry tone getting a smile out of Rhaenys. “I take it they cannot be reasoned with?” Ser Gilfer shook his head. “My lord father tried to”, he stated. “They responded by doubling down on the attacks on our land, claiming that there will never be peace with the lords of Westeros. It was one of many failures Harren the Black held against him”
“They thrived on your weakness”, Visenya hissed. “But things are different now. This is no longer a barely controlled frontier, but the future heart of the realm. These curs must be driven from their hiding places and brought to the king’s justice. Were it not our forest already, me and Vhagar would solve the problem. As it stands, dear husband, why don’t we take this as an opportunity for our bannermen to prove their worth?”
“In that case, allow me to volunteer”, Ser Gilfer Lothston offered, as he walked up next to Carth. “These outlaws have been a thorn in my side for many years now. My previous king did not care much for what happened in these lands, but perhaps with your aid I finally have a chance at finding them” Aegon gave him a nod. “So be it”, he declared. “Ser Gilfer, you will take twenty of your own men, twenty men from Stokeworth and twenty from Hayford, led by Ser Simon and Ser Leyton respectively. For now, make sure that the lumberjacks can continue their work, but as soon as you find a lead, pursue these outlaws without mercy”
As he said these words, Leyton Hogg and Simon Stokeworth, the latter by far the youngest of the three, stepped forth, next to Ser Gilfer. They saluted in front of their king and Gilfer followed with a brief bow. “We are yours to command, your grace!”, he intoned and though his voice carried far, it remained quiet and composed. “None of us shall disappoint you”
Only after the three men had joined with their fellow lords again did Aegon pay any mind to Hobert Lowther. The lord had remained at the edge of the other supplicants, accompanied only by one of his men, a scarred brute of a man with a thick beard and the rest of his head shaved clean. Ellena had glanced at him from time to time and whenever the Lord of Mander’s Mouth had been about to interrupt the king, it had been this man who had held him back and kept him calm.
“Now, Lord Lowther, you may speak”, Aegon stated. “But be warned, unless you are here to bend the knee you might just test the limits of my patience” Hobert immediately took a step forwards, a confident grin on his face despite the earlier humiliation. His expression was not without charm, but the way he looked at the people around him made Ellena instantly wary of him. This man, while not necessarily vile of heart, clearly looked down on just about any man in this room that was not the king himself. “Then it is good that I have come to do just that”, he stated.
“Testing my husband’s patience?”, Rhaenys chirped, which got the hint of a smile from Aegon and an immediate frown from Hobert. “Kneeling, I mean!”, he was quick to assure her. “Your grace, I have travelled a long way to be the first lord of the Reach to pledge my loyalty to you, the one true king!” Ellena had expected as much and even though Aegon was hard to read, she was certain this came as no surprise for him either.
“Your oath is always welcome, Lord Hobert”, Aegon assured him. “That being said, I cannot help but wonder why you would travel this far. Indeed, no other lord from the Reach has knelt to me yet and I wouldn’t expect them to follow in your footsteps anytime soon. My immediate enemy is Harren Hoare, with Argilac Durrandon a distant second. I still have hopes for King Mern to see reason and bend the knee peacefully, for he is considered a prudent and benevolent man”
Hobert frowned at these words. “I cannot confirm that, your grace”, he growled. “Indeed, it is a high injustice committed by King Mern that has led me here. I wanted to be the first to kneel because I hope that in return, you will agree to restore my birthright” With these words, he sunk onto one knee, but before he could speak again, Aegon raised one hand. “Your birthright, Lord Lowther?”, he interjected.
“Indeed!”, Hobert spoke. “You see, my ancestral holdings are, admittedly, small and rather impoverished. I am not what you would call a principal lord of the Reach” Rhaenys leant closer in her throne and though she was still smiling, the look insider her eyes was cautious. “Your honesty is appreciated, Lord Lowther”, she told him. “I am just not certain if it helps with your cause. Your holdings are far from our lands, surrounded by Mern Gardener’s sworn lords, few of which should be pleased with your changed loyalties”
The Lord of Mander’s Mouth shrugged calmly. “They never liked me much to begin with”, he admitted. “My goals have always been… loftier than theirs. I’m sure you can understand, your grace” He smiled at Aegon, who did not return it. “So, you would bend the knee even if it means that your lands are seized and your people jailed?”, the king asked and as usual, it was impossible to know what he thought about Hobert’s offer.
“Eh, I’m sure you will restore all of it once you have subjugated the Reach”, the lord replied calmly. “But the reason why I have come here today is because I see you as the last chance to restore what is mine by right. You should know, though Mander’s Mouth is the ancestral seat of my house, I have recently inherited the holdings of another house, a great house of the Reach. Through my mother’s side, I am the closest living relative of the late Robert Raylan and with that, I am the rightful lord of the city of Raylansfair”
Ellena only barely suppressed a gasp. Raylansfair, where Terroma and Ando died, where she lost Raenna and Brandon, where Noelle nearly killed an innocent girl. To think that even now, after all these months and on the other end of the continent she would still meet a man connected to that damned place…
Aegon seemed to recognize the name as well. “I hear about that place quite often lately”, he admitted. “In fact, my trusted knight Orys ventured there a few months ago and was present when the city got attacked by Ironborn raiders. He did not mention you among its defenders, Lord Lowther” Hobert’s smile faded. “I must have missed him”, he admitted. “I left a little while before the raiders were first spotted, after a most heinous scheme cheated me out of my inheritance. Had I known what was to come, I would have stayed, of course, I would have defended my people”
“Naturally”, Visenya spoke, her tone oozing contempt. “According to Ser Orys, it was Petyr Vyrwel who came to Raylansfair’s aid, a feat for which King Mern granted him House Raylan’s lands and titles. So, forgive me for casting doubt on your tale, but how exactly have you been cheated out of a title you failed to defend?”
“A title I have been given no chance to defend!”, Hobert argued. “I have documents proving my lineage, I have the testimony of septons and maesters and other learned men that by any law of succession active in all of mainland Westeros, I am the sole, rightful heir of House Raylan. And yet, King Mern ignored my legitimate claim, he did not even send for me to settle this topic. This is an injustice I cannot stand for!”
“In other words, you seek to offer a token support, for what else could you grant us, and in return you hope my husband will just grant you one of the largest ports of the Reach?”, Visenya continued. “Am I understanding you correctly?” She smiled at him, but unlike Rhaenys her expression held no ounce of sweetness. It was cold and mirthless and the older queen was glaring daggers at the scrawny lord as she spoke.
“I…”, Hobert stuttered. “I offer you all I can so that you may unite Westeros under your banner. Is that not what you’ve been demanding? I have served a weak king who would rather spit onto established rights than offend one of his favoured vassals. Now I seek to serve under a just overlord who upholds the law and rules fairly. Have I not come to the right place?”
Aegon narrowed his eyes, before he glanced at Visenya, then at Laevon Raelgaeron. “Usually I would accept your oath with pleasure, Lord Lowther”, he confirmed. “Alas, I must consult with my advisers on this matter. At the very least, I promise to look through any evidence you present concerning your birthright. I shall also discuss your claim with Archmaester Wulvren and with Lord Massey, whose knowledge on matters of law is unparalleled” He made a welcoming gesture and though he remained stern, the underlying hostility he seemed to have held for this lord of the Reach was gone. “UntilI have reached a decision, I invite you to remain here as my guest. The same applies to any member of your entourage who wishes to remain by your side”
Hobert bowed in front of the king, but Ellena could see that he was unhappy with this verdict. It was a fair compromise, but clearly he had expected more. “So be it, your grace”, he mumbled, before he took a step back, standing back next to his brutish knight. “I shall await your verdict dilligently”
After him, a young knight approached the throne, his cloak displaying a set of golden antlers, while Hobert Lowther slowly moved to the far end of the hall, clearly neither happy with the king’s verdict nor welcome among the other lords that had already knelt to Aegon. A handful of soldiers were waiting there, apparently his men. If not for his own, decidedly tasteful attire, one could have mistaken them for a group of outlaws no different from those who had attacked Carth and his lumberjacks.
“That man…”, a familiar voice spoke behind Ellena, so close and so sudden that she flinched. Cass gasped, as she spun around, but Ellena would never fail to recognize Noelle Mield. After all, the woman had been responsible for Terroma’s death and even though she was trying to make amends, Ellena knew she could never forgive her for that.
“Seven!”, Cass hissed. “Don’t just sneak up on us like that!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it did not matter. The hall was far from silent, with many courtiers whispering to each other about what they had just learned, about the arrival of Lord Lowther and the bandits that plagued the king’s wood. “So creepy…”
Noelle barely paid her any attention, with her focus resting entirely on Ellena. “You want something, priestess?”, she asked coldly. Noelle gave her a slight nod, before she glanced at Hobert Lowther. “You have felt it too, haven’t you?”, she whispered. “Raylansfair… like it or not, but we have a connection to that place now. It has changed us both and now, this man arrives at court, seeking aid to reclaim what he believes to be his birthright. I do not believe in coincidences”
“So, what do you assume?”, Ellena asked. The knight of the Antlers was speaking to the king now, petitioning to have his son appointed as a squire to the king or to one of his close knights, but she was barely paying him any mind now. Instead, she knew better than to ignore Noelle. Crazy or not, the red priestess had a connection to things beyond her understanding. “I assume nothing, child”, Noelle corrected her. “I know that Lord Lowther’s arrival here plays a part in the Great Other’s plans”
This time, Ellena exchanged a brief glance with Cass, who subtly shook her head. She let out a sigh. “And you know that… why exactly?”, she asked. Once again, Noelle looked back at Hobert. “The man by his side”, she stated and her gaze wandered to the ugly brute towering over Hobert. “There is something about him that I have seen before. A spell of sorts that has once been taught in far Asshai, by one whose handiwork I would recognize anywhere. This man has been touched by an agent of the Great Other and, to keep it simple, infected with a thought not his own. Something that has taken root within him, festering, troubling him to the point of obsession. Perhaps he himself is not even aware of it, but anything he does at any given moment serves only to fulfil that one thought”
With narrowed eyes Ellena stared at the bald brute. He struck her as a thug, a huge, dangerous man, but not particularly intelligent, nor actively heinous as she would expect from Noelle’s ominous enemy. Then again, considering what the priestess had done perhaps her enemy wasn’t quite as terrible as she would claim. “You’re telling me that man is… what, possessed? Like in a ghost story?”, she asked.
Noelle’s sigh told her that her guess had been far off. “Sure…”, the priestess mumbled. “Let’s say he is possessed. His mind remains his own, save for this one hidden thought. Few would even notice, but I have met the man who invented this spell, a very long time ago. To see his handiwork here once again is… troubling, to say the least”
And indeed, Ellena realized that Noelle was far from calm. The priestess was pale, her hands trembling slightly and her breath came faster than usual. “To me, the darkness that has been planted within him is suffocating”, she admitted, having noticed Ellena’s stern gaze. “But worry not for me, child. I can deal with it” Immediately, Ellena frowned. “I am not worried”, she hissed. “Go and suffocate for all I care”
Noelle let out a brief sigh. “Your anger is understandable”, she admitted. “And yet, we both know that I am not your enemy” She spoke the truth, as she usually did, in her own, twisted way. By now, months had passed and though Ellena would always feel hatred when looking at Noelle, she was long past burning rage. She was Rhaenys’ handmaiden now, she had a good life in no small parts thanks to Noelle’s attempts at atonement. As such, if it served the silver queen, Ellena was not above listening to what the priestess had to say.
“You think he is dangerous?”, she asked and Noelle gave her an immediate nod. “Very”, the priestess confirmed. “He came here with ill intent. Why else would our enemy send one of his thralls to the court of Aegon, the last scion of Valyria?” She looked back at the brute. “That poor man has my pity, for I doubt he is even aware of his true loyalties. It is a devious little trick, making him believe he is still in control until his true master gives him an order”
“Could… could Lord Lowther be the man you were looking for?”, Ellena asked, her gaze following Noelle, before resting on the lanky lord. He was talking to one of his soldiers right now and from his attire, to his expressions, down to his mannerisms, he was about the last person Ellena would suspect to be a follower of the Great Other. Noelle shook her head at once. “I have seen less likely men who serve the enemy”, she admitted. “But no, I don’t think so. The Great Other had a presence at this court long before Lord Lowther arrived. There is a true servant here, well hidden even to my keen sight. This brute over there is a pawn, someone whom I cannot afford to ignore, but who is quite clearly not the man I’ve been looking for”
“So… the enemy knows you’re looking for him?”, Ellena asked, to which Noelle gave her an immediate nod. “And he has gotten nervous enough to reveal another trick up his sleeve”, she spoke, this time not without satisfaction. “I am forced to waste time with this man, which gives our enemy more time to hide his tracks. At the same time, it means we have gotten closer to him”
This made Ellena glance across the room, towards Gregor Harlaw and his crew. Ever since that night at Dragonstone, she had tried to keep an eye on the Ironborn, had tried to get closer to his crew, to learn more about what truly made him swear allegiance to King Aegon. And throughout that entire time, she never once had the impression that he had any ill intent. Gregor was a scoundrel in the truest sense of the word, but for some odd reason she enjoyed having him around.
“You think Gregor is involved in this after all?”, she asked, to which Noelle shrugged. “You have kept an eye on him so far”, she spoke. “And if what you told me is true, then this scrawny man by his side already took note of it. It could be that your investigation made them more cautious. Perhaps it would be prudent to keep doing just that”
Far was it from Ellena to protest, but by now, she was more and more certain that Gregor was not whom Noelle feared him to be. In fact, she would be very surprised if he even knew anything about the Lord of Light and the Great Other. “And what about Hobert Lowther’s man?”, she asked, as she looked back at the brute. “If he works for Aegon’s enemies, we can’t exactly afford to ignore him, can we?”
Noelle let out a tired sigh. “No, girl, no we can’t”, she admitted. “You promised to aid me once before and so far you have given me more than I could have asked for. Will you help me once again?” With these words, she glanced at Rhaenys, who was carefully listening to the next supplicant, blissfully unaware of the grim threat Noelle was hinting at. “If not for me, then for your queen?”
Ellena frowned, but immediately gave her a nod. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cass doing the same, even if the girl couldn’t have possibly understood a thing the red priestess had just told her. “If it’s for Rhaenys, I will”, she confirmed. “We both will, if that’s what’s needed” Noelle raised an eyebrow as she glanced from Ellena to Cass. “So be it”, she confirmed. “Four eyes see more than two. Both of you are sworn to the queen and as such, you can move around this makeshift keep much better than I ever could, not with Wulvren’s men carefully watching my every move”
“It’s not as if you gave him no reason to hate you”, Ellena hissed, knowing exactly that this had to hurt the priestess. Noelle’s frown was proof enough. “I… cannot deny that I hurt him, perhaps no less than I hurt you”, she admitted. “But I cannot change the past. All I can do is to ensure that the king we both want to succeed won’t be harmed by forces beyond his understanding. And if I am not mistaken, if the spell that has been put onto Hobert’s soldier has been cast by that man I have met before, then I am the only one who can stop him. It has to be me”
“I’ll gladly leave that ominous man to you…”, Ellena agreed, which brought the brief hint of a smile onto Noelle’s face. The injuries she had suffered at Raenna’s hands all those months ago were almost gone and though her broken nose and cheek would never fully regain their once flawless beauty, her smile was still radiant, a match even for Rhaenys’. “So, will you help me with his grunts?”, she asked. “Hobert’s man would be a sure lead and I need at least one of you to keep a close eye on him. But I can’t shake off the feeling that Gregor Harlaw has to play a part in this. He might be ally or foe, but one way or another we need to learn more about him”
[Spy on Hobert] [Continue to spy on Gregor]