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The news that Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell had formed an alliance through the mediation of Petyr Baelish swept through Storm's End like a wildfire.
The Reach had men in plenty, but the Lord of Highgarden did not dare pit his roses against Tywin's battle-hardened host that had already swept the riverlands. He agreed to the Hand's terms in haste.
After all, the men of the Reach had no wish to die for a crown Renly had already abandoned, nor did they want to see Stannis sit the Iron Throne.
House Tyrell immediately declared Margaery's marriage to Renly invalid. Maesters and septons from both sides swore she remained a maid.
At the ivy-covered manse, Tywin accepted the fealty of every southern knight in the name of King Joffrey Baratheon. Both sides swore to set aside old grudges and turn their swords against the usurper Stannis and the pirate king Balon Greyjoy.
In return, Joffrey would marry the daughter of the Lord Paramount of the South, binding stag and rose together, and Mace Tyrell would be granted a seat on the Small Council.
Everyone knew the currents running beneath the surface. Northern lords would never forget the burning of their homes. House Rowan and House Oakheart would never forgive their enemies. But a single treaty had bound old foes together—they now shared a common enemy in the Stormlands.
Stannis.
Inside Stannis's pavilion the arguments over their next move grew louder by the hour.
The dream of waiting for the enemy to tear itself apart had died. They now faced the combined armies of the Westerlands and the Reach, with royal reinforcements on the way at any moment.
Davos was used to counting coins and silks, but even he could smell the danger. The lords who knew war were restless and short-tempered.
Knights, lords, and guards muttered among themselves, some whispering, some cursing. Stannis had not left his tent in four days, and the uncertainty was eating at every man.
The debate ended the moment the king issued his command. In its place came a camp full of confusion.
Today Stannis had called his first war council since the alliance news arrived. Davos arrived earliest and studied the faces around him.
Alyssa Florent looked furious. Monford Velaryon was as pale as a corpse. Gunthor Sunglass was fasting and ashen. Ser Rolland Storm wore a dark scowl. Every man carried his own thoughts.
Some wanted to retreat across the Narrow Sea. Others begged for one last battle. Still others spoke of negotiation.
Stannis let them speak freely. He did not interrupt. Davos stayed silent, unwilling to provoke the nobles or offer a plan he knew was weak.
When the last voice fell quiet, Stannis spoke in his cold, steady voice. He would not surrender the crown. There could be no peace with the usurpers in King's Landing. He would not throw his outnumbered army into a hopeless fight, nor would he risk a desperate strike on the capital.
He had decided to sail the main host across the Narrow Sea and land at White Harbor. From there he would use the North as his base and continue the war on his own terms.
The tent erupted in shock.
A storm of protests followed. Stannis simply ordered everyone out and repeated that his decision was final. He would hear suggestions tomorrow, but the course would not change.
After the lords left, he kept only Davos.
The two men entered the room that had once been Renly's quarters at Storm's End. Stannis had stripped it bare. Harps, statues, rich tapestries, and silver plate were all gone. Only a long table and a detailed map of the Seven Kingdoms remained.
"I can see you have something to say. Speak."
Stannis's cold gaze settled on Davos.
Davos felt light-headed. He had been a smuggler until the king raised him to lordship. He did not feel worthy to question his sovereign, but Stannis wanted the truth.
He gathered his courage. "Your Grace, you lifted me from the mud. I would walk through fire for you. But those noble lords outside—they have homes and families. Most of them once followed Renly. Your decision is a cruel test for them. Is this truly wise?"
"This choice was not one I wished to make, but it had to be made. A king must bear heavy burdens." Stannis's voice was iron. "If we stay here we will all die. North is our only chance."
"Surely there are other paths?" Davos pressed.
Stannis gave a short sigh. "Praying for miracles while fasting is the talk of fools. Twenty-five thousand men against five times their number would only make us a laughingstock. Retreating to Dragonstone is slow suicide. A sudden strike on King's Landing is walking into a trap. Negotiating with the Lannisters is death. Tywin holds every advantage. He will never let me live after the accusations I made about Joffrey's parentage. We are past the point of mercy."
For once Stannis allowed himself a thin smile. "My Onion Knight, you are right. I wish I had more men like you at my side… but north is the only road left."
"Why the North?" Davos asked, still confused. "Is there no better foothold in the south?"
Stannis tapped the map. "The North is remote. The Neck can hold back Tywin's army. The Dornish hate Robert and may not help me. The Lannisters can buy the Martells with enough gold. The southern roads are dangerous—pirates and Targaryen forces watch every route. There is no safe place for us in the south."
He paused, then continued. "Two days ago Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor sent word. The North has been ravaged by the ironborn. Deepwood Motte and other strongholds have fallen. Bolton marched his army back but has not moved. Manderly accuses him of usurpation and the murder of the young Stark lord. He asks me to sail north, help him crush the rebellion and drive out the ironborn. In return he will swear the entire North to me. The North offers men, food, and the only real chance we have."
"But Manderly wants to use us to settle his own grudges," Davos said with a frown.
"Vassals have risen in rebellion and broken the king's peace. Putting them down is the king's duty. I will judge fairly so the realm sees the difference between the true king and usurpers." Stannis's tone was absolute. "I will leave part of the army to hold the Stormlands strongholds. Stonehelm and Storm's End are mighty castles with full granaries and the Narrow Sea at our backs. They will remain a thorn in Tywin's and Tyrell's sides and pin down their main strength."
Davos finally understood the full plan. Though doubts remained, he saw this was the best course left to them. "Success depends on who you choose to leave behind and who sails with you, Your Grace. Both groups must be loyal and capable."
"I have already decided. Ser Rolland Storm will hold the Stormlands. He is loyal and fierce—exactly the commander we need to keep the castles. Alyssa Florent will sail north with me. A woman who has already betrayed once must never be left unsupervised." Stannis paused. "Do you object?"
"No, Your Grace. I obey."
Davos hesitated, then asked the question that truly troubled him. "Your Grace… what of the red woman? What will you do with her?"
Stannis's brow darkened with open disgust. "If I leave her at Storm's End, Rolland will lock her away and every red priest in the realm will turn against us. If I send her away she will run straight to the Targaryen and strengthen our enemies. The only choice is to take her north. The cold will keep her busy lighting fires for the camp." He looked at Davos. "Any objection?"
"None, Your Grace. I serve at your command."
"Leave me. I must draw up the lists of who sails and who stays." Stannis waved him away and turned back to his papers.
Davos had taken only a few steps when the king called him back. "A king's duties also include protecting the families of his servants. I give you leave to send your wife and children to Dragonstone. They will be safer there."
"Thank you, Your Grace!" Davos bowed deeply, gratitude flooding him, and left the room.
...
Cersei was the last to enter the council chamber.
She had already prepared her excuse—the maids had been clumsy and slow with her magnificent golden hair.
She swept into the room like a queen and let her green eyes glide over the long table. At the head sat her cold, hard father Tywin. To his right was Jaime in his white cloak. Tyrion was there too, his ugliness barely hidden by fine clothes. Kevan sat at the far end.
Cersei had thought she could steer the conversation in her favor with ease.
Reality shattered the illusion at once.
"We have been waiting for you a long time," her father said calmly, yet his voice carried unmistakable rebuke.
"I'm sorry, Father. The maids were so slow…"
"Then replace them. I will not waste more time."
"Yes, Father."
Under her father's stern, icy stare every carefully rehearsed word vanished. She could only sit in the place he indicated, feeling once more like the little girl who had been scolded for being late.
She shook the memories away. She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms now. She simply refused to quarrel with her father over something so small.
"We may begin. First, the war." The golden Hand of the King pin on Tywin's chest gleamed. It was the symbol of power Jaime had surrendered, yet on her father it looked as though it had always belonged there.
Cersei knew her father had already met privately with both her brothers. Only she had been left out.
Jaime, after their most recent intimacy, had told her everything.
Tywin still wanted Jaime released from the Kingsguard. Cersei did not oppose it.
Otherwise Casterly Rock would fall to Tyrion, Lancel, or someone equally unworthy.
She still could not understand why her father had never considered letting her inherit. She could rule the Westerlands better than any of them.
As for Jaime marrying Catelyn Tully, Cersei cared not at all.
It was only for the riverlands inheritance. That red-haired woman could never compare to her. Jaime would return to her side in time.
Besides, it had been Catelyn who freed Tyrion in the first place, allowing the dwarf to sit at this table now with such arrogance.
"We still know nothing of Stannis's plans," Tywin began. "No word at all. We have no idea where he intends to go."
"Perhaps the Spider is not quite as all-seeing as he claims," Jaime said.
"Or perhaps Stannis is especially good at spotting spies," Tyrion added lightly.
Both men fell silent under Tywin's sharp gaze.
Cersei felt a flicker of satisfaction. At least the dwarf could not mock her in this moment.
"I will speak with Varys myself. Stannis will never abandon the war. As long as he lives our position is not secure. We must never underestimate him."
"What do you intend to do?" Tyrion asked.
"First, strengthen the alliance with the Tyrells. Second, build a new fleet. Stannis's ships are his only real advantage."
"Are we simply going to wait?" Jaime asked.
"Not at all. After you marry Catelyn you will take an army into the Stormlands. Either win the lords' loyalty or break their castles. We cannot sit idle until Stannis dies of old age. We must show our strength with steel."
Jaime nodded, pleased. Cersei swallowed her anger.
Men only ever understood war. Even her brilliant father wanted to hand Casterly Rock to this battle-hungry brother when she could rule it far better.
"You will command the Reach's army as well. Make them prove their loyalty with deeds."
"I'll give them a proper taste of war," Jaime said with a grin. "Speaking of weddings—when can I take off this white cloak?"
Years ago Jaime had joined the Kingsguard for her sake.
His presence had helped her survive her marriage to Robert.
Now she had already convinced Jaime to obey their father. Once the wars ended they would no longer need to hide their love.
Their father would grow old eventually, no matter how much he opposed them.
Through Jaime she would control the Westerlands while remaining queen.
For that she could even endure Catelyn's existence for a time.
"I will meet with the High Septon tomorrow. He has already agreed in principle," Tywin said.
"How will you explain it to the realm? That I am unworthy of the white cloak?"
"The High Septon will declare your vows were made under duress from Aerys. That will free you. A little gold will settle the matter."
"Why should we pay him gold? Jaime saved his life. He already owes us," Cersei could not stop herself from speaking.
"People dislike being reminded of debts. Beside the iron fist we sometimes need soft words. Keeping the Faith friendly serves the crown in every way. Joffrey would do well to learn from his ancestors."
"My son will surpass every one of them," Cersei said with certainty.
"I hope so." Tywin's tone was disappointed. "From what I have seen so far, I find it difficult to feel at ease."
"What do you mean, Father?"
"Executing Eddard Stark was a farce. The king's cruelty and ignorance were beyond absurd," Tyrion said bluntly.
"I did not ask you!" Cersei snapped.
"Tyrion is correct," Tywin's words cut like a blade. "You have made far too many mistakes in raising the king. Starting tomorrow, Robert's son—Joffrey—must change. He will train with the sword. I will teach him history and finance myself. Ser Barristan is no longer fit for the task. After that Joffrey will accompany Jaime into the Stormlands. A true king must know war firsthand."
Cersei felt as though she had been struck by lightning.
Her father was blaming her for Joffrey's failings and now wanted to send her son to war?
Why had he said "Robert's son" with that strange tone?
Had Tyrion told him the filthy lies from Stannis's letter?
Impossible.
"We will of course support the king," Jaime said, trying to smooth things over.
"If he does not change, his end will be worse. I am sorry, Cersei, but you are not a fit mother."
Cersei burned with rage, but Kevan cut in. "Tywin, Ser Adam has sent word from Riverrun asking for reinforcements. The riverlands are not yet pacified."
Cersei felt only contempt. When Stannis had stood at the gates of King's Landing, defending the city should have been the first priority. Kevan was simply showing weakness again.
"What is the situation?" Tywin asked.
"Brynden Tully is raiding everywhere. Ser Adam has taken heavy losses and can only hold the castles. Few lords are truly loyal. Some are even secretly aiding the rebels."
"I will send Gregor Clegane with ten thousand men. He will deal with the traitors in his own way," Tywin said coldly.
"Moving the Mountain away will also keep him from the wedding. We don't want to frighten the Tyrells," Tyrion remarked.
"Tyrion, you have a task as well. In Joffrey's name issue a new decree. Any lord who breaks his oath dies. His lands and titles are forfeit. His kin share his fate."
Cersei smiled inwardly. The old lion was still the old lion—ruling through fear and blood.
She would need a hound of her own. Jaime was too noble; he had even refused to kill Robert's bastards for her.
"But fear alone is not enough," Tywin looked at Jaime. "You must get Catelyn with child as quickly as possible. Only your heirs can bring the riverlands into the Westerlands and create a lion kingdom stretching from the Sunset Sea to the Narrow Sea."
"She is already old. Can she still bear children?"
"The maesters say she is healthy," Kevan answered.
"My betrothed Sansa is still only a child," Tyrion muttered.
"She is old enough to bear children. Or do only whores stir your blood?" Cersei said with open contempt.
"Enough. All of you, be silent," Tywin commanded.
"There is one more wedding that must happen soon." Tywin's gaze fell on Cersei. "You will marry Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden. House Tyrell has already agreed. Through this marriage the Lannisters will gain firm control of the Reach."
Cersei's patience finally snapped.
They wanted to marry her off again?
Years ago she had obeyed her father and married Robert. Now he wanted to give her to a lame cripple?
"Absolutely not. I refuse!"
"You are queen and a Lannister. You will do your duty."
"I will not marry Willas Tyrell!"
"Then you may marry Balon Greyjoy. He would be delighted to wed into the royal family."
Tyrion and Jaime burst out laughing. Cersei shook with fury.
"We are all making sacrifices, sister. For the family," Jaime said without a trace of sympathy.
"This is not funny!"
"Enough!" Tywin's voice silenced the room. "The alliance with the Tyrells must be sealed by marriage. Joffrey will wed Margaery. You will wed Willas. The Westerlands, the Reach, the Crownlands, and the riverlands will stand together. We will unite the Seven Kingdoms. The age of the Lannisters has begun."
Cersei heard nothing. Only resentment filled her.
"Father, there is one more threat," Tyrion said seriously. "Viserys Targaryen has dragons and an army. Once those dragons grow, they will be our doom."
"Rumors from the east," Jaime said dismissively.
"Varys confirms it is true. Do not forget what happened to the Blackheart." Tyrion insisted.
"Tyrion is right. The dragons exist," Tywin's words brought total silence. "We must deal with the Targaryen before the dragons mature. Right now Stannis keeps us occupied, but we cannot ignore the threat."
"Father, I have an idea," Cersei suddenly smiled sweetly. "Give my betrothal to Viserys. Bring the dragons into the Lannister fold and our dynasty will last forever."
Tyrion and Jaime roared with laughter. Tywin and Kevan sat in suffocating silence.
"If you believe such words and behavior are worthy of a Lannister daughter and a queen, then I am deeply disappointed in you. It also explains why Joffrey has become what he is."
Cersei had a thousand words ready, but in the end she only lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Father."
"Council is ended." Tywin rose. "Kevan, see to the Tyrells. Jaime, go meet your betrothed. The wedding must be flawless. Tyrion, draft the decree first, then see Sansa."
"What about me?" Cersei asked.
"You will reflect on your conduct. Tomorrow at dawn you will tell me what you have learned."
Cersei was the first to storm out of the council chamber. She ran back to her rooms, slammed the door, and locked every bit of rage and humiliation outside.
She lay on the bed trembling. Another marriage. Another sacrifice. Another time her father moved her like a piece on the board.
Jaime had not spoken for her. Joffrey was being sent to war. Everything was being taken from her piece by piece.
The once-proud lioness was left with nothing but stifled, broken sobs.