CHAPTER 5 - Hidden Plots

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. All other concepts and ideas from other books or stories belong to their respective authors. No copyright infringement is intended.

Story Premise:

Aires of the House Baratheon, first of his name, is the second son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. In a world of fire and ice, he must carefully tread the waters of power as he strives to climb his way to the top. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, he must hide the truth of a past life to survive the great game and emerge victorious from the ashes.

Chapter Summary:

Queen Cersei ponders on her second son. Aires Baratheon holds more meetings in preparation for his departure from King's Landing to Highgarden and a clandestine relationship is revealed with an infamous organization.

Last Chapter:

So the Queen had called court, had she?

Well, she could do as she wished.

Aires would attend, as always, and he wouldn't complain. That would do nothing now.

His mother could drag him to court and keep him away from the King as long as she wished, but at the end of the day it mattered not.

For he would win the game with or without her interference in his plans.

Morning Hours

22th Day of the Sixth Moon; 296 A.L.

King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms

Her Grace, Cersei of the House Lannister, Queen Consort of King Baratheon of the Iron Throne of Westeros, sat quietly in her chair, brooding over one Aires Baratheon.

She waved out the nameless gardener who had brought her a note on her second son's activities. She dismissed the man like a fly, which is what he was, nobody a Queen should concern herself with.

Cersei opened the note and unrolled it, holding it up to the light to see it clearly.

The Prince has been shut inside his offices for the past three days. He is holding constant meetings with the nobles of the Crownlands. No other activity.

She scoffed and threw it on the ground, knowing that an aid would come to dispose of it later.

The Queen crossed her knees and took a deep breathe, trying to analyze her dear Aires' behavior. It wasn't unusual for the boy to remain stuck inside that precious office of his for days on end, she swore he slept in that room more than he did in his chambers.

At that man he kept company, what was his name again? Nicolo something. It didn't matter. He, like the gardener, was a smallfolk. Their names did not mean anything. What did matter to her was what Aires got up to with that man all day. She knew he wasn't interested in the same sex, she knew that well, but it didn't stop her from having doubts sometimes when he would sit in his office with that man for hours upon hours.

Never mind that, for that situation would be coming to an end soon enough. After years of laboring and approaching the matter from every angle there was, the solution had landed straight on her lap.

Strangely enough, a request from Olenna Tyrell of all people proved to be the greatest gift she had received that year.

The Tyrell matriarch had formally asked that the Heir to the Stormlands and the Lord Steward of the Baratheon House be sent to Highgarden for a year to "improve mutual relationships". It was a godsend.

She had been pushing for the same thing to Robert and that foolish Jon Arryn for years now. Send him to Sunspear, send him to the Eyrie, send him to Dragonstone, send him to fucking Winterfell, and yes, send him to Highgarden.

Everytime though, she had been blocked by either the oaf's insistence the kid stay or Arryn's political games.

Now though, somehow, Olenna Tyrell had convinced the Hand of the King to acquiesce to her demand. With both his Hand and his wife urging him to accept the Tyrell spymaster's "request", the King too have caved in. And so, just like that, he was gone. Like a puff of smoke that had never been there.

It couldn't come soon enough. She counted down the days until dear Aires's departure.

It wasn't that she hated the boy. No, no, you misunderstand.

No, in truth she quite liked him.

Aires Baratheon was smart, witty, strong, confidant, proud, manipulative, and devious. He was everything she could ever have wanted out of her little lion.

Except he wasn't a lion.

He was a stag.

He wasn't Jaime's.

And at the end of the day, that's all the mattered to her.

Aires would have to go, one way or another, to pave the way for Joffrey's ascension to the Throne. She had no doubt that there would be problems, she wasn't naive enough to think it would be easy. Aires would not make that process easier. His very existence was proof against Joffrey, and indirectly, herself.

For that reason he had to leave King's Landing. He had to leave before he became entrenched there and she couldn't force him out. Better now, when he was respected, than in two years, when he would be revered.

She hoped that Aires would forgive her when she was older. She loved her second son, as much as it seemed she didn't.

She could imagine a scene in the Throne Room, with her and her dear Aires both standing next to her perfect golden Lion, Joffrey, who sat imperiously on the Iron Throne.

Oh how she dreamed of that moment.

In order for it to materialize though, Aires had to go.

And now, by a happening of chance and opportunity, he was.

Queen Cersei couldn't stop herself from smiling as she raised a chalice to her own success.

Afternoon Hours

22th Day of the Sixth Moon; 296 A.L.

Offices of the House Paramount of the Crownlands

King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms

Aires leaned back on his chair and let out a sigh. It wasn't even mid-day and he was already exhausted.

Lord Trevas Blount had just existed Aires' offices, storming off to return to his Keep. That had been a difficult meeting. Blount was known for his temper, but Aires had thought that his tone and mannerisms would have been able to tame the fiery lord. He had thought wrong.

Trevas had come down to King's Landing from his comfortable estate to protest Aires' decision on the Harlow fields that law adjacent to Blount's domain. The fields were nominally owned by the Crown, and therefore under Aires' authority. For years, Blount had been sending hundreds of his smallfolk into the Harlow to farm. Being Crown property, they paid no taxes, conveniently for Trevas. He had been using the fields to increase his own tax revenue.

The problem for Trevas was the over the years, his expenditures came to rely more and more on the profits made in Harlow. Therefore, when the Lord Steward of the House Baratheon of the Crownlands came knocking at his door, he had been put in a bind.

Under the threat of being charged with forcefully seizing Crown property, Blount had been forced to strike a deal with the Prince. Aires had sold the land to the Lord, therefore ensuring his farmers could continue to work the fields and that the Crown would now received their proper taxes on the area.

Blount to say the least, had been less than pleased. Sure he would still be able to take advantage of the fertile fields, but now he actually had to pay taxes on them.

Well he hadn't had much of a choice in this matter. Seizure of Crown property was a crime punishable by death, so not much leeway there.

As Aires had been quoted saying once: "There are two things for sure in life: death and taxes."

In this case, Blount had chosen taxes.

Thankfully for the both of them, Aires thought, because he really didn't want to start dabbling in executions too early and Blount probably wanted to keep his head on his shoulders.

Blount was just the last one in a series of lords and other various ranks of nobility and wealth that had met with today. They came with a multitude of demands and personal agendas. It was everything from requesting tax exemptions to complaining about new Crown projects in the region to arguing with him about certain tax collectors. A certain merchant from Tyrosh had, clearly representing some unknown person of importance, taken almost 15 minutes of his time to complement him about new tariff levels in King's Landing. Sure Aires sought the support of the merchants and traders, but the man had wasted 15 minutes of his time.

Some of the meetings had gone quite quickly, with lords acknowledging their inability to actually change Aires' mind and leaving early. Others had dragged on and on, ending only after the Prince ordered either Fabian or Gladden to drag them out of the office.

Prince Stannis, as the Master of Ships, had put the job on his shoulders to bully the lords under his purview for a better deal on lumber prices. Specifically, that was Lord Balman Byrch, one of the major lords in the Kingswood and therefore, a major controller of timber.

Balman hemmed and hawed about Stannis coming down on him and his fellow lords for resources to construct new ships. Apparently, the Baratheon brother had already confronted the Byrch Lord, in his own Keep no less. According to Balman, he had also had arguments with House Staedmon and House Bywater as well, all of which ended badly for both.

So that was the reason Stannis had come to him on this, Aires thought. The Lord of Dragonstone was a strong military man and a practical person, but didn't quite have the right inclination for politics or basic social skills. No, that was Aires' job.

After a back and forth with Balman that ended with very little accomplished, he ended the meeting by assuring the man that he would talk to Stannis and get him to calm down. Though Balman left with a smile on his face, Aires was certain he would be hearing from the man again sooner than he would have liked.

It was unfortunate that he, as Lord Steward of the ruling house of the Crownlands, couldn't just order the numerous lords of the region to do whatever he wanted. One would assume that being a monarchy, the Crown would find it easy to exert supreme power over the aristocracy. Nope.

The nature of ruling in the Crownlands was as much a game of bargaining with the various lower lords as ruling them. At the end of the day, Aires always had to be conscious not to stretch his authority to its limits. He remembered reading well what happened to Aerys Targaryen after the battle of the Trident. Most of the Crownlander lords retreated with their remaining forces inside of their isolated keeps and castles, leaving KIng's Landing ripe for sacking by the combined Lannister-Baratheon army bearing down upon it. Aires would not make the same mistakes as the Mad King.

The entire reason this whole matter of ship building had started anyways was a recent uptick in pirate activity in the Narrow Sea. Though the waters had never been fully safe, pirate ships seemed to have gathered into fleets to pick on larger convoys.

Morosh the Myrman, a sellsail admiral, which was basically just a fancy phrase for pirate lord, had been more and more active in the past years. He operated out of Tyrosh, though only informally, preying on small trading ships from Dorne to Braavos. Likewise, the Prince of the Narrow Sea, Salladhor Saan, had gained prominence. He hailed from Lys, running his own private fleet of mercenary ships. His fleet, number 28 ships from Aires' last count, burned everything he was paid to destroy. It was rumored that Saan might even be the richest pirate in the known world.

No matter, Morosh and Salladhor were just the most present faces in an entirely new trend in pirate activity. Pirate and sellsail ships were joining forces, going after larger targets on the horizon. The Prince knew what this was a sign of.

It was a sign that war was coming.

There were trends that could be analyzed to determine these things. Before the beginning of every major war on both Westeros and Essos for the past centuries, the rival factions would begin their preparations years in advance. Sellswords and mercenary companies would suddenly appear off the face of the earth and take up new contracts. Forts were rebuilt and supplies stockpiled in hidden locations. Household guards were expanded and family members called back from foreign trips or expeditions. And, pirate forces began to gather under single banners, preparing for the day when they were hired to complement various "official" state navies.

Such trends were not to be taken lightly, especially to a young man in such a position as Aires.

He would be traveling to Highgarden in less than a week, and he still had plans to set in motion before he left. It had been a calculated risk planning his own exile. One of his advisors had called him, in polite language, and idiot when he had first contemplated the idea. Aires didn't shy away from the fact that it was a risk, but he had been lucky so far.

Nevertheless, he would be leaving the Crownlands under good management when he left. If he could convince his father later today, and he had no doubt he could, Evenden would be made Lord Steward in his stead when he departed. Though no longer in full control of the region, he would have a trusted administrator following his letters to the word. Nicolas would hold the fort while he was working in the Reach, and continue to implement the projects he had begun during his tenure as Lord Steward.

Aires took out a deep breathe as Nicolas returned into the office after escorting Lord Blount out of the room. Though he tried not to show it, he was also visibly worn. The administrator moved back into the corner of the room where he had been taking extensive notes on his liege's meeting for the past hours.

Sighing, the Prince turned towards his assistant.

"Who's next for today?"

Nicolas retrieved one of the many parchments placed on his small desk and read over it quickly.

"Just one more for today, Your Highness," he replied monotonously, "The representative of House Norridge. This is concerning the matter of Arlington."

"Ah yes," Aires affirmed, pulling a large stack of papers in front of him and shifting through them.

Nicolas continued his introduction: "They've sent their heir, Lord Dramon Nordidge, to negotiate on their behalf."

Aires muttering under his breath, "Not that they have anyone else to send."

He sat quietly for a minute, reviewing his plans and the details of them. His administrator sat motionlessly besides him, waiting for his Prince to finished.

Finally, Aires looked up and called out for the nobleman to be sent in.

The door opened and Ser Fabian marched in with Dramon Norridge in two. The man was still young, just shy of his 18th nameday in fact. He was a little taller than Aires, his face also more mature and his body standing strong and muscular.

With a bow, Aires's sworn knight returned to his station at the door, leaving the Prince to analyze the man in front of him for just a few more seconds.

The man had short brown hair, combed neatly and his hands folded behind his back. He wore expensive clothes today, a beautiful green shade decorating his stylish robes. Gold was speckled on it and the jewels encrusted on its edges clearly showed off the Norridge accumulated wealth.

Yet, for all of Dramon's excess and flowery imagery, he lacked the strength of a House to back it up. He also lacked the mental composition for the situation, his nerves visibly tied up in his throat.

You see, House Norridge never recovered from the Ninepenny wars, back in 260. Comparatively, the Reach had only been involved to a moderate extent in the war. While the then Lord of Highgarden, Luthor Tyrell, had been disinclined to fully commit to the conflict, considering the minimal impact that Ring of Nine had so far had on his domain. Yet at the same time, the brave knights of the Reach had indeed rallied behind the Crown to expel the Golden Company and their pirate allies from the Stepstones. One such House was that of Norridge.

In the single year conflict, House Norridge had lost five members during the war. Three had been lost at sea during a Tyroshi ambush. A fourth had had an arrow implanted in his head during the assault on Bloodstone Island. Finally, a fifth died of poisoning, thought it was rumored at the time that a rival lord had used the war as an excuse to get rid of an old enemy.

Then, during Robert's Rebellion, House Norridge lost another two members. The heir to the House, Roran, who fell during a skirmish with Baratheon forces near Fawnton. His sister, Palicia, had fallen ill around the same time, though not without considerable suspicion.

Now, all that remained of the once proud House Norridge was its elderly lord, Daris, and his grandson, Dramon himself.

"My Prince," the man bowed before him, "I am Dramon of the House Norridge. My Lord Grandfather Norridge has received your request for an audience and has sent me to be his representative."

Aires gave Dramon a nice smile. Though the Norridge heir hid it well, he was scared. His left hand twitched, even as it lay unmoving at his side.

"My thanks for riding to King's Landing with such haste, my good man. Please take a seat," he replied jovally.

With a smile so fake it was almost plastic, Dramon sat down in the chair facing Aires. The Prince could tell his guest was still unsure of the situation, so he gave him another smile and inclined his head.

"A drink to calm the nerves," he asked gently, a smile playing on his lips.

Dramon replied with a scared chuckle, wiping off a drip of sweat from his head.

"That would be much appreciated, My Prince. I thank you for the offer," he agreed, keeping his eyes from meeting Aires's.

"Of course," the Prince gave, standing up and moving across the room to poor both himself and the Norridge heir a cup of wine. He knew that Nicolas wouldn't want one. The man didn't drink. Aires knew very well why he didn't, but boy was the man missing out on something.

He passed one of the cups to Dramon, taking a generous sip out of the other while looking at him. It was a measure most Lords undertook while serving drink to another. Afterall, there was more poisoning by wine amongst the nobles than lives were ever taken by the sword.

Shakily, Dramon raised the glass to his lips, taking a gulp that was probably far larger than he intended. He then put the cup down on the table, waiting for the Prince to address him.

"You are most likely wondering why I asked to talk to House Norridge here in the capitol?" Aires commented, looking out the window at the ocean waters.

"N . . . No my Lor . . . I mean my Prince. Not at all!" Dramon replied rapidly, not wanting to offend the boy he knew held more power in the Crownlands than even the Hand.

Aires gave a sharp laugh, then smiled genially at the man across the desk.

"You are," the Prince said simply, "And rightfully so. You know I will be traveling to Highgarden and staying there for quite some time in a few days."

Dramon's eyes opened wide, trying to feign shock, but any good game player could see he already knew.

"No my Prince! I wasn't aware of such a fact!" he proclaimed loudly, again desperately hoping not to have gone off to the wrong start with the Prince.

In the corner, unnoticed by either of the nobles, Nicolas rolled his eyes.

"I would be disappointed if you didn't already know, Dramon. You don't mind me calling you Dramon do you?" he questioned, now turning back to look the heir in the eyes.

"No . . . Not at all my Prince!" He stuttered out.

"Good. Good." Aires nodded.

Then, opening up a packet of papers on the wooden table, he took the time to look over them one more time. Dramon sat there, observing him yet pretending not too, feeling awkward. Finally, after a minute of silence, Aires raised his head again to meet with Dramon's.

"As I move to Highgarden for the foreseeable future, there will be significant changes made in the authority of the Crownlands. You understand that, right?"

Dramon nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Considering this," Aires continued, though a bit more cautiously this time, "There are certain resources that I feel could be compromised if not under my direct watch."

Dramon raised his eyebrows.

"In what ways, Your Highness, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked, trying to probe for an opening.

The Prince simply smiled and returned to observing the waters outside his office. This went on for another few moments, convincing Dramon that Aires had no intention of answering that question. Damn. Finally, he spoke up, trying to regain the Prince's attention.

"How can House Norridge assist you in these matters, Your Highness?"

Now Aires turned back towards him, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I would need you to undertake a certain level of discretion when handling some artefacts and their handlers that will be settling in Arlington next week."

Dramon was only to anxious to reply in the positive.

"Of course, Your Highness, we would be more than happy to accommodate anyone or anything you send to our small domain! I am sure my Lord Grandfather would be more than happy to accept."

I mean, what other choice did one have. Refuse a direct and clearly a very sensitive offer from the Prince of the Iron Throne? Dramon thought not.

Aires nodded his head again.

"Good. Good," he spoke, "I am afraid that Daris will know nothing of the matter, however."

Again, Dramon's eyes widened and he stared at the Prince in shock. The Prince kept on smiling, as if this was a normal situation. Dramon would have laughed had it been anyone else sitting on the other side of the desk. This was preposterous!

The entire practice of nobility relied on the power of lords. It was unheard of for an heir, especially in the main branch of the family, to not keep his lord father or grandfather aware of all his activities. Simply unheard of.

"Excuse me, Your Highness?" he asked, trying to confirm the unbelievable statement the Baratheon had suggested.

"You heard me well enough Dramon," Aires replied slowly, taking his time to pronounce every word very carefully, "And if your grandfather or your liege Lord are made aware of these happenings, I will know, and I will take action."

Dramon took a deep breathe. Now that was very clearly a threat, one directed pointedly at him. He looked up at the Prince, seeing the imposing young man still staring at him, his eyes seemingly pouring into his soul.

"That . . . it is understood, Your Highness." he coughed out.

Suddenly Aires Baratheon stood straight up and clapped his hands together.

"Good!" he exclaimed, "I am very glad you have seen the right way my good Dramon!"

He walked around the desk and Dramon rose to meet the Prince, giving a small bow to him.

"No, no need of that my friend," the Prince protested, waving at Dramon for him to stand up.

"Come here," he asked, waving his hand to beckon the young heir to follow him.

Aires led Dramon over to the balcony outside of the room. The waft of fresh air hit both of the faces, and the Prince let out a sigh.

Dramon had to admit, it was quite a sight. The sprawling mass of King's Landing, laid bare before you. It was poetic in a way, standing here so many hundreds of feet above the smallfolk, just looking down at them.

"You are not married, are you?" Aires questioned offhandedly.

Dramon gulped, but otherwise tried to stay composed.

"No, I am afraid not, my Prince." he answered shortly.

Aires hummed out loud, as if puzzled by an interesting development.

"And yet are you not 18 years of age?" he inquired, a frown on his face.

The Norridge heir nodded once in confirmation, trying to shut down the conversation on the subject. He didn't have any actual power in determining what they talked about, but hoped to the Seven that the Prince would move on.

It was no secret in the Seven Kingdoms why the young heir of the House Norridge had incredible difficulty finding a bride. Normally, as Dramon was the only heir to the House, Lord Daris should have arranged a marriage or at least a betrothal for his grandson years ago. However, this had not been done, though not through lack of trying.

The reason lay not in the heir but in the Lord. Lord Daris of House Norridge was a man long past his prime. He was an old man, 78 by Aires' last count. He had lived through the Ninepenny War and Robert's Rebellion. He had lived as countless family members died around him. He had lived, in his own little keep, as it slowly become empty with now only him and his one remaining grandson occupying it.

The Maesters had said that, due to the pressure on him and the pain of seeing his House forced into ruin, the elderly Lord Daris had cracked. He was officially declared insane years back, unable to comprehend reality anymore. House Norridge's own maester, Torrent, had fled from Norridge Keep in 281 for fear of his life, saying that Lord Daris was convinced he was secretly a White Walker due to his blonde hair and intended to skewer him on a lance. Needless to say, no maester had accepted the appointment to House Norridge after that.

Daris was very sick indeed. A sickness of the mind, the Order called it. Much like the one that might have seized the Mad King.

He ranted that he was King of a territory called Swarley, was a young man in his prime, and was one of the most skilled fighters in all the land. Clearly, he was none of those.

Locked away in his ancestral keep, bellowing out nonsense at aides, retainers, and the few servants left to him, House Norridge had been excluded from the court in Highgarden and from proper nobility in general. No more did knights and nobles come from lands far away to visit the home of the proud knights of Norridge. Now they stayed away.

For all intents and purposes, Dramon was the man who ruled House Norridge, not that there was much left to rule over. The servants and the half a dozen retainers they had left followed his commands, not his grandfathers.

Well that was the reason that Aires had specifically put this matter in the hands of House Norridge, of course.

A weak and insane Lord. A sidelined and forgotten House. A timid heir who had had the responsibilities of his domain thrust upon him. The entire situation was the perfect tool that Aires was going to craft and tone till it was perfectly sharp and ready to be wielded by its creator.

"Hmm," he pretended to ponder, "We'll have to do something about that, won't we." he spoke out to Dramon.

The young heir's eyes widened. The Prince of the Iron Throne, Heir Apparent to the Lord Paramouncy of the Stormlands, and the Black Prince himself promising to find you a bride was not something to take lightly. Especially if you were in Dramon's situation.

Aires let out a small laugh and led Dramon back into his offices.

"I wish you a pleasant journey back to Norridge Keep," he patted his new friend on the back, opening the door for him to leave.

"Before I leave," Dramon interjected, "What will I tell my lord father of what happened here today? And my liege lord?"

Aires seemed to mull over it for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

"I must thank you again for giving me a favorable opinion of House Tyrell. The introduction was much appreciated." he spoke out.

Dramon nodded once more to the Prince.

"Of course Your Highness."

With that, the young man left down the hallway, disappearing around the corner a moment later.

When Fabian closed the door to his offices, Aires let out a deep sigh and turned back to Nicolas.

"Well that went well, don't you think?" he asked.

Nicolas inclined his head.

"Very much so, Your Highness. I must beg your leave to finish these accounts in my offices in preparation for my new position."

Aires nodded and waved his hand at him. Nicolas bowed deeply this time and made his way out of the room, a large stack of papers in his arms.

The Prince closed his eyes for a few seconds, breathing deeply and enjoying the air that circulated around the room.

Then, opening his eyes and setting his face to a more serious image, he called out.

"Ser Fabian!"

The knight instantly opened the large wooden doors to the room and walked inside, bowing his head at the back of his liege.

"I shall be out tonight," the Prince commented airly, "Nobody is to disturb my chambers,"

"Of course, Your Highness," the knight replied steadily, moving back outside of the offices and closing to door, leaving Aires to his own thoughts.

He walked over to the balcony, leaning his arms against the side wall and looking out once more on the million beneath him. With a slight smirk, his heels turned around and he strode back into his office.

Dark of Night

22th Day of the Sixth Moon; 296 A.L.

The Red Keep

King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms

A dark specter moved silently in the night.

He wore a black clock, without any emblems or other markings. His face was completely obscured by his hood, the color of the night covering his movements.

Slowly, without a rush, he walked down a dirt road leading towards the docks. Even at this time of the night, workers and artisans ran around, finishing products and delivering things to their proper destinations.

In the distance, the candle lights were still burning bright on a new war galley, men hammering away to get the thing together. Planks of wood, rigging, equipment, nails, iron items were all being carried back and forth from the thing in such a disorganized like manner. This should be no surprise though. Afterall, the docks of King's Landing were simply those: docks. Not the massive behemoth that was the naval construction arsenal of Braavos.

The lamps hung from buildings and wooden posts allowed just enough light for the man to see the path he was walking on. He made no noise as he continued to walk down the dirt road, all the busy workers ignoring him as they passed. They all seemed to just melt away from him as they passed, as though they were subconsciously avoiding the figure in the back cloak.

Even at this time at night, King's Landing was never quiet or peaceful. In the background, the man could hear the loud noises coming from a nearby brothel and its neighboring bar, moans and screams filling to void of sound.

Soon enough, the activity of the capital city bled into the background as the man moved farther and farther away from the docks. A little while later, he came upon small mound on to of a cliff, devoid of human presence, overlooking the waters of Blackwater Bay.

Already standing there, staring out into the distance, was another man in a black clock. It was so similar to his, in fact, that they might have just been the same person.

The man approached his counterpart, standing to his left, completely silent.

They both stood there, side by side, without moving for a minute. Finally, the one on the left opened his mouth to speak, his body still motionless.

"The Targaryen exiles are said to be hosted by the Pentosi Magistar."

The other man inclined his head slightly, replying in a thick tone, definitely an Essosi accent.

"A man knows. Another man is already following an exiled prince and princess."

The man who had spoken first hummed softly, pulling back his hood to expose his face to the darkness of night.

"And has a man managed to infiltrate the Magistar's residence?" he asked, his voice expressionless.

"A man has not. A man's primary task is to remain unnoticed." the second one replied, his words straight to the point.

"Indeed," was the first one again.

"There is another man in Highgarden waiting for me?" he questioned, unconcerned about the activities of the other across the sea.

"A man is in the Rose of the Reach, and more men and women shall follow," came the response, "Men and women have been ready to move ever since a plan was put into motion.

- Good. Good."

The conversation stopped, and the two men in their black cloaks turned back to focusing on the calm waves of the bay.

"And when will you be moving west, Jaqen?" the first one questioned, a smile tugging at his lips.

The other man did not react to being called by his first name, showing no sign of recognizing the signature.

"A man will move west when his God commands it to be so," he spoke calmly, betraying not a hint of emotion.

"Then you will leave in two days time," the first one answered him, "It is better that we move quicker than slower."

The second man nodded and inclined his head at the other.

"As my God's master commands,"

With that, the second cloaked man swiftly left the small mound, his cloak billowing in the wind as he strode down and away from sight.

The other man stood still for a second longer, before he too turned around and walked back towards the docks.

It was good to have the Stranger on your side when dealing with the House of Black and White, especially if you were Aires Baratheon.

"The Nature of the Seven Kingdoms" A Tome by Ser Orion Redding, Lord of the House of Redding

Excerpt from Chapter 8: "The Lord Paramouncy from 0 to 281 A.L."; Pages 152-157

For the thousands of years before the unification of the Westerosi continent, the Seven Kingdoms were each seven independent "kingdoms". They were each ruled by their own royal family, and these seven families were known as the Great Houses of Westeros. The Kingdom of the North was ruled by the House of Stark; the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale was ruled by the House of Arryn; the Kingdom of the Isles and the Rivers was ruled by the House of Hoare; the Kingdom of the Rock was ruled by the House of Lannister; the Kingdom of the Reach was ruled by the House of Gardener; the Kingdom of Storms was ruled by the House of Durrandon; the Kingdom of Dorne was ruled by the House of Martell.

Each of the Seven Kingdoms, the North, the Vale, the Rivers, the Rock, the Reach, the Storm, and the Dorne, had warred and fought against each other for millenia. Through this time, the seven Great Houses maintained near total control of their domains without any significant changes of territory. Due to a lack of basic transportation infrastructure, government bureaucracy, and army organization, military campaigns were few and far between. This allowed the independent Kingdoms to more or less remain secure in their lands.

These circumstances explain the dramatic effect of Aegon's Landing and his subsequent invasion of the Westerosi continent. Never before had the Kingdoms of Westeros suffered such a devastating and complete occupation, and certainly not by a single Lord.

When the Targaryen Regime was imposed upon the six of the seven kingdoms, Aegon I Targaryen understood the importance of local authority over the Kingdoms. As such, those Great Houses who surrendered were given the offer to continue ruling, but under the new Targaryen monarchy. Thus when King Torrhen Stark surrendered to Aegon Targaryen, he stopped being the "King in the North", and he and his family continued to rule as "Lords Paramount of the North", as part of the unified Targaryen realm. House Lannister of the Rock and House Arryn of the Vale were also allowed to abandon their monarchical status in favor to that of "Lord Paramouncy".

In three of the other kingdoms, the ruling Great Houses had died during the conquest, so the Targaryens elevated other major Houses in those regions to Lords Paramount. House Gardener had ruled as the Kings of the Reach, but all living members were killed at the climactic battle of the Field of Fire. Their stewards, House Tyrell, then surrendered Highgarden to King Aegon I. The Tyrells were descended from the House of Gardener, though through the female line. In reward for their role in handing over Highgarden, King Aegon named them Lords Paramount of the Reach. As a result, a member of House Tyrell has never ruled as a king or queen.

Similarly, the last of the Storm Kings of the Stormlands died in the conquest, so the King named his bastard half-brother Orys Baratheon as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands for his role in the victory. However, Orys then married the daughter of the last of the Storm Kings, ensuring some continuity in rule. House Hoare of the Isles and the Rivers was eradicated in the conquest, and the King decided to split House Hoare's former Kingdom in two. The newly created Riverlands were given to the House of Tully, allies of House Targaryen who had risen to help overthrow their Ironborn overlords during Aegon's Invasion.

In the Iron Islands, the King asked the ironborn to choose one line from among their major noble Houses to become Lords Paramount. The ironborn chose House Greyjoy, who ruled over the Iron Islands under the Targaryens for the next 300 years.A slight difference was that the Greyjoys were referred to as "Lords of the Iron Islands", but there was apparently no legal difference between their status and that of a "Lord Paramount". Certainly, they were conquered by the Targaryens just like all of the other regions, so there was no reason for them to be treated differently.

House Martell of Dorne managed to repulse Aegon's forces and thus remained independent for another two centuries. A century before the War of the Five Kings they were peacefully united to the Targaryen realm through marriage-alliance. As a result they were allowed to maintain many local laws and customs, and still style themselves as "Princes of Dorne", not "Lords Paramount of Dorne". "Prince" was a holdover from when the Rhoynar used to live in city-states in Essos.

There were therefore a few legal differences between being the ruling "Prince" of Dorne and a "Lord Paramount", though they do seem to be functionally equivalent. The only apparent difference was that Dorne continues to follow its custom of practicing equal primogeniture, thus there have been several instances of women ruling Dorne, in which case they were styled as "Princess of Dorne". It was not clear if the Targaryen Kings technically had the right to dismiss the Princes of Dorne, as they apparently did with Lords Paramount (though none was actually dismissed in three centuries of Targaryen rule).

Only six Houses held the title of "Lord Paramount" at one time, as the Iron Islands and Dorne use alternate titles. House Targaryen itself ruled the Crownlands directly, yet not as "Lords Paramount".

At the same time, King Aegon I created a tradition of naming four of the Lord Paramounts as local military leaders. These four "Wardens" would serve as the de-facto military governors of their regions during times of war. The Wardenship of the North was traditionally reserved for the House of Stark; the Wardenship of the East for the House of Arryn; the Wardenship of the West for the House of Lannister; and the Wardenship of the South for the House of Tyrell. Occasionally, the monarch would alter these roles, placing the House Tyrell as the Wardens of the West and the House Baratheon as the Warden of the South. However, these roles would all return to their original holders over time.

In a historical context, it is shown that the existence of the Lords Paramount were critical in the maintenance of the Targaryen Monarchy over Westeros for so long. Surely without them, the former Kingdoms would have risen up and united together to overthrow their Targaryen overlords before long. Since at no time did they do this, the system is shown to have succeeded. Even during times of crisis and internal war, one being the many Blackfyre rebellions, never did the Kingdoms as a whole act against the House Targaryen or seek to depose them.

Author's Note:

Hello all! Hope you enjoy this latest update.

Cersei reveals her true thoughts about her sons and Aires continues to manipulate everyone that is around him.

This took a little while to write, because I had to go back and rewrite it a few times until it had the exact feel that I wanted. I truly hope you guys like this, since I'm very happy with this chapter.

I really do appreciate constructive criticism of my work. If there are errors, things that don't make sense, convoluted thoughts, please let me know and I will do my best to correct them. My work is never perfect, so please let me know when it's not.

So far, the first four chapters have been focused on one character: Aires Baratheon. The coming chapters will have different points of view in them.

Finally, this story will include a large number of original characters. These range from being soldiers, administrators, merchants, to sellswords. Please submit names and descriptions of characters I can use.

Feel free to ask questions and please favorite, follow, and review. Thanks to all who have done so!

See you next time,

Greysider