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Summary:
Jon takes up the mantle of Rulership in Osgiliath and takes counsel with the Lord's of Gondor on the future of the Southron realm. All the while the little Lion tries to govern Westeros as best, he can as Aegon succumbs to the power of the ring.
Notes:
Leave a comment please I do enjoy hearing from you all.
Chapter Text
The Númenorean-Westerosi retinue continued on its way to the gates of Osgiliath with Isildur, Anárion and Jon in the lead while the maidens brought up the rear admiring the beauty of the City of Stars.
Isildur was accompanied by Elendur while Jon was escorted by Sansa and Arya, who looked as pleased as cats who had got into the cream, often glancing at their fellow maidens with vain pridefulness.
This greatly displeased the Westerosi women, who glimpsed them with wroth and covetousness.
Ashara, for her part, knew the love Sansa and Arya held for Jon had long since blossomed into something more.
At first, she assumed that the look of longing in Sansa's eyes was mere admiration, yet as the years grew long, she knew that Sansa's affection went beyond sisterly love.
Sansa had fallen under Jon's spell… and she had been trying to tempt him for many years.
When she found out, Ashara shared her findings with Shiera, who was surprised at Tully Wolf's audacity, though to Ashara's own wonder, Shiera had told her she had discovered that Arya was of the same mind as her elder sister.
The young wolf was bolder than her elder sister and often spied upon their beloved when he trained unbeknownst to himself as none among them had the heart to reveal to Jon his own cousins lusted after him.
Although they knew Jon desired his cousins as well, though not as boldly nor as lustfully, often addressing them still as his little sisters, although Ashara was certain that Sansa and Arya would no longer be happy that Jon thinks of them in such a manner
At first, she was upset to uncover their affection, yet at night her mind was clouded by thoughts of her wild wolf ravishing Arya and Sansa.
And the fantasy became even more dreadful when she appeared in the dream acting as a caring mother comforting the two sisters as her beloved wolf claimed their virginities with insatiable passion.
"What a morbid fantasy," Ashara pondered excitedly; her discomfiture disbanded, and now her mind was filled with thoughts of their lovemaking.
She loved Sansa and Arya as if they were her own children, yet she had no desire to take them as lovers merely watch as Jon conquered them.
Oh, a fierce lust came over her when she thought about it. Indeed there was many a night where she and Shiera had made love with gleeful abandon, hoping to appease her desire.
Though it did little to quench her lust, Ashara told her dearest of her fantasy and Shiera eyes twinkled with a fierce passion; perhaps she desired the same?
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After a few more moments of walking, Jon regarded the walls of Osgiliath after so long away.
The sun rose swiftly over the White Mountains, and the fair abodes of the city shone white fairer still were the wide bellied ship that lay at harbour their silvered sails billowing in the summer breeze, but the most marvellous thing was the great stone tower on the centre.
"If this is a mere reflection of what Anduinë was… I can understand the despair of the Númenoreans remembering their home," Jon thought sadly, knowing that he would never be able to see the glory of Númenor with his own eyes as he continued towards the city flanked on either side by his dearest sisters.
At that moment, he felt a familiar presence and saw it was his wolf Ghost; the old wolf and his brood had followed them south.
He recalled their meeting in Annúminas after so long away, and though Ghost was joyful to see him, the old wolf felt slighted that he should be left behind while his master went on such grand adventures, which caused Ghost, Lady and their new litter of pups to accompany them to Osgiliath, which was a great joy for the Dunedain as many still wish to claim a wolf of their own. Though Lady was loathed to part with her pups unless she deemed the man worthy of their loyalty as so far only the heirs of Elendil had claimed them.
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Upon either side of the road, there was a great press of fair people in raiment of many colours and garlands of flowers. So now there was a wide space before the walls of Osgiliath, and it was hemmed in upon all sides by the knights and the soldiers of Gondor, and by the people of the City and of all parts of the land.
"A welcome worthy of a King..." His grandmother said happily, undoubtedly pleased that the people of Gondor would welcome them so heartily.
The Targaryen matriarch was eager to see Jon's qualities as a ruler; after all, she was very proud of her beloved grandson.
After all, even the Elders of Middle-earth wanted to see Jon's qualities as a leader, not just a battle commander.
"Yes, well… We are accompanied by two Kings," Rhaenys said though there was a joy in her voice, no doubt happy that the Elven witch was not among them charming her brother with fell magics.
"And Jon... Who is always received with eminence wherever the Men of Westernesse may call home," Shiera said gaily.
"I still don't understand why King Elendil desired Jon to rule this City... Our wolf is a charismatic leader, but he has never ruled a fief nor a castle," Arianne said, bewildered.
"That's was Elendils intention", Rhaella groaned.
"Mother?" Daenerys asked, confused.
"You and the others will understand in time, Dany..." Rhaella said sagely.
Yet this council did little to sate their curiousness, but they said no more on the manner and continued their march to the city.
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Finally, they arrived at the oaken gates of the city.
Suddenly there came walking a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, he was clad in glittering mail and bore a heavy spear.
The Bear of a man knelt and spoke in a voice akin to thunder in the mountains, "My Two Kings... I return Osgiliath to you with open hand and eager heart and welcome you once more to your Kingdom."
And both brothers nodded.
"Thank you for your services, Lord Azrubên; I'm pleased we left our city in such capable hands," Isildur said.
"Thank you, my King... Everything is ready for the reception of their majesties and Lord Jon," Said the Númenorean, bowing low.
"Azrubên... He was the servant of our grandfather and since the fall has served as the Steward of our capital," Anárion said solemnly.
But at that moment, Jon looked at Azrubên and felt a great unease.
"Something makes me uneasy about this man... He's not cruel, I think... But there's a deep shadow in him," Jon thought as he regarded the Steward with caution.
"It's an honour to meet you, Lord Azrubên," Jon said before bowing, and this seemed to please him immensely.
"Thank you, my Lord... It is an honour to meet you; on your last visit, I was in Dol Belegaer, so I did not have the satisfaction of meeting you... But, nevertheless, I am honoured to know you shall rule this fair city," Azrubên said, smiling politely though it seemed empty.
"I am honoured to know of your high opinion of me, and I shall look to your counsel in the ruling of my City," Jon said.
"And My Lord will have it," Azrubên said, and Jon felt that the man was sincere… albeit reluctantly.
"Then. let's continue… It's been a long journey and although I would prefer to stay a little longer in this beautiful City… I must return to Minas Ithil," Isildur said.
"And I to Minas Anor..." Anárion said earnestly.
"Then... My Kings, Lord Jon... Follow me... Your companions too..." Azrubên said, beckoning to the servants who rushed to attend to Jon's Ladies and cousins.
"A word of caution. Along with us came our direwolves and their new litter of pups, and while their father is welcoming of the Dunedain, their mother is less so, it would be wise to forewarn the servants and assembled Lords that she will devour any who are foolhardy enough to try and claim one," Jon said sagely.
"So shall it be done, my Lord…" Azrubên said, giving a warning look to the servants and knights near him, who nodded quickly despite having a glimpse of dissatisfaction on their faces at not being able to claim a Direwolf.
With that, the Westerosi finally entered their new home alongside the heirs of Elendil.
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The city was… Glorious, there was no other way to describe it; its roads were paved with stones of many colours and fountains there were of great beauty and frailty and roofs and pinnacles of luminous glass and white stone wrought by the finest among the men of Westernesse. The markets were truly wondrous, filled with many fair things, wines from far off Rhovanion, jewels from the northern realms, marvellous toys and of course, sturdy mail and weapons.
Isildur and Anárion strove to build this City fairer than Minas Anor and Minas Ithil; one could almost mistake it for Tirion in far Valinor.
Despite having enjoyed this first sight years ago, Jon and the others were still in awe of it all.
"It's a shame that Loras and Robar remained in Annúminas; I know they greatly desired to see the southern realm," Jon thought, filled with melancholy.
Though his dourness was supplanted by joy when he saw the delight of the citizens who seemed eager to greet him.
"I'll get used to their reverence lest I turn dour as Uncle Ned", Jon thought, remembering his uncles' timorousness in the face of praise.
"Are you anxious, Jon?" Anárion asked, pulling him away from Sansa and Arya, who regarded the King with vexation.
"I'd be a fool if I wasn't…." Jon said somberly.
"Naturally, many who desire power do not deserve it is often those who shun the reins of governance who wear the crown of rulership far better than most," Anárion said wisely.
Upon hearing Anárion's words, Sansa recalled her time as a captive of the Lannisters while Tyrion was sharp of wit and tongue. Cersei was a vicious fool much like her cruel son.
She shuddered, recalling his name "Joffrey Baratheon no, that was a lie he was a Waters, a beautiful monster, beautiful yes and a beast," Sansa thought, revolted that she had once felt love for that loathsome wretch.
He was a wicked, blundering king who only delighted in strutting about wearing a crown to which he had no right alongside his bitch of a mother.
However, unlike the two of them, the little Lord, as far as Sansa could tell, delighted in his duties as hand while his father seemed grim and joyless.
Lord Tywin Lannister was undoubtedly a shrewd, wicked, and pitiless man, but he was a brilliant administrator if the tales of Aerys reign were to be believed.
Sansa understood that Anárion was right; none who possessed the merits of rulership willingly sought it out.
"You're right, my friend, although I know nought why you sought my stewardship when there are many more worthy men in the fair realms", Jon lamented.
"It's a trial, my foolish friend." Anárion grumbled angrily.
"Test?" Jon asked, bewildered.
"My Father and Isildur want to see how far your abilities go, Jon; they desire to see what you are capable of accomplishing in ruling, not as a mere devotee... Some men are like blades, made for war. Hang them up, and they go to rust, and we wish to see if that is the case with you," Anárion replied sagely, and Jon was silent.
"I'm beginning to understand why, although I don't like it, and I hope I don't end up like Robert Baratheon," He thought. His uncle had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Yet when he had seen him in Kingslanding lo those many years ago, he saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. Walking like a man half in his cups.
Twas doubtless a loathsome sight that mighty man reduced to a simpering fool who cared for little else save whelping bastards and squandering the realm's gold.
Fear gripped his heart at the thought he would become akin to Robert after ruling this city.
"I'll govern this city as if it were mine and my heirs," Jon said, finally abiding his new role.
"Aaahh, when you worry like that, you look foolish, Jon", Arya growled, vexed that she was being slighted.
"Arya!" Sansa rebuked, embarrassed that her sister hadn't learned courteousness in all their years here.
However, Jon flouted her and brought his firm hand to Arya's head, who feared that he would pinch her cheeks as he did when they were children, and she misbehaved.
Though to Sansa and Anárion's stupefaction, Jon brought his hand to a point behind the little wolf's right ear and began to caress it.
"Aaahh…," Arya murmured, clearly enjoying Jon's caress, abandoning her troubled countenance and leaned closer, eager to accept her cousins' touch.
Sansa and Anárion arched an eyebrow and stared at Jon, desiring to know how he had tamed Arya, but he said nothing.
"You've tamed a beast, my friend," Anárion said with a smile, and that remark broke Arya out of her reverie, and she swiftly stepped away from him.
Her face reddened, and she muttered angrily, "Damn fool…" all the while refusing to look at her elder sister, who merely sneered in delight.
"Thank you, my dear Anárion", Jon growled angrily at his reckless friend.
Anárion laughed good naturedly. "I'm sorry, friend", though Jon could tell he thought his plight amusing.
"Behold…" Azrubên said abruptly, gesturing to a great marble tower.
"Your new home Jon…" Anárion said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"The Dome of the Stars…" Jon said with a genuine smile admiring the architecture of the Osgiliath Stone home.
The tower shone like a spike of silver, and its pinnacle was a great dome of gold, and white banners broke and fluttered from the battlements in the morning breeze.
Indeed one couldn't help but think it resembled the might High Tower of Old Town.
"Dwelling here is like a fantasy," Shiera said happily, finally reaching the tower.
"Do you say that because you know that you shall dwell nearest to the white tree of Minas Ithil, my beloved maiden?" Jon said, mocking Shiera, who merely reddened in embarrassment.
"Let's go in..." Isildur said grimly, and none contested him.
"There is no doubt that he is the heir to King Elendil," Jon thought with admiration entering behind him.
The hall was long and wide and filled with shadows and half lights, but here and there, bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts from the high glass windows. Many woven cloths were hung upon the walls, and over their wide spaces marched figures of ancient legend, some dim with years, some darkling in the shade and at the far end of the hall where the thrones of Isildur and Anárion sat side by side.
"Here you will dwell, Jon, and you will have rule of Osgiliath and the surrounding lands, from here you will guard the City, you will protect its inhabitants, and you safeguard the Palantíri as Prince of Osgiliath," Isildur said solemnly.
"It's magnificent… King Isildur," Jon said, moved by the honour granted to him while Arianne, Sansa, Daenerys, Ashara and Rhaella were pleased to see their beloved so joyful.
"My Kings, I've prepared a modest celebration for Prince Jon's arrival, and it seems the Lords of our lands are keen to meet him though it seems that his companions are weary from the long journey perhaps they should rest before presenting themselves before the assembled nobles," Azrubên said.
"I would appreciate a little rest; many leagues we have travelled and not all of it pleasant," Jon said although he wasn't tired, the sight of his loves, grandmother and cousins so spent dismayed him.
"I agree with Jon, Isildur; we are weary. Jon's appointment can wait a bit," Anárion said, and Isildur sighed for a moment before nodding.
Gazing upon his weary companions, Isildur relented, "Yes, both of you are right... It is better to rest... Guide us, Azrubên,"
"As my King commands… I will order the servants to take you to your chambers…." Azrubên replied.
"I'd like a warm bath…" Sansa requested softly, and Azrubên smiled as a kindly grandfather would when greeting his children.
"As my Lady commands..."
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Jon and the others were taken to their new rooms in the tower, and by the Valar, they were all splendid, easily fit for a King though he knew that Isildur's and Anárion's chambers were far statelier than his own.
Knowing that they would again sleep apart from their love, his lady loves were saddened.
They all knew that Írimë and Galadriel would return in a few months, so Jon's lovers had to take benefit of the time they had with their beloved before those vexing elves returned.
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After putting away his things and taking a hot bath, he busied himself to prepare for his coronation and swiftly dawned his princely ramnient gifted to him by Anárion and Isildur.
Jon was clad in mithril mail, and he wore a long mantle of pure jet clasped at the throat with a great sapphire that shone from afar, but his head was bare save for the pearl of Ulmo set in the fillet of Maltagil, and was girt with Ringil hilted in a scabbard of black and silver.
Under his mail, he wore the two Mithril medallions that his beloved Lalwen and Galadriel had given him as signs of their love.
However, Jon had something else with him, a gift from his beloved Star of the West, although it was fashioned by his own hand.
He bore a great ring of Matagil, upon which was engraved a many rayed golden sun upon a field of white; this was the badge of Finarfin and his house.
His beloved Galadriel bid him to fashion a ring for her, the fairest ring that could be wrought by his hand, and Jon, eager to gladden her, did so. Toiling for many long days in the forges of Annúminas until, at last, he forged a ring it glittered like polished gold overlaid with red light, and the fiery stone in it twinkled as if the sun had come down to rest upon his hand.
Though he perhaps should have known his beloved intent for Galadriel loved many things, none more so than himself indeed whenever they were together, her smile gleamed with a radiance that equalled the Even-star.
Yet the smile of his beloved can turn quite mischievous chiefly when she wishes to embarrass him with her affections. So perhaps he should pay heed to her more often lest she causes him no end of embarrassment.
When she saw the ring that he had created, Galadriel's eyes were filled with longing, and then her gaze hardened for an instant; he thought he had displeased her, but she clasped his hand and laid a kiss upon the ring. He thought to question her, but Galadriel merely informed him that he bore the right to wear the emblem of her Father Finarfin nonetheless, his beloved star had pledged to him one more gift when they met again, the gift that according to the customs of the Eldar was hers to give as a bride to her husband.
Though he had little time to dwell on the past and, after completing his preparations, departed his chambers and began the long walk towards the chamber of the Star where the nobles of Gondor awaited him.
Azrubên had said the welcoming party would be a middling one, and luckily he was telling the truth; the party was modest with only a few of Gondor's most prominent nobles as he didn't feel like having a real party at the moment, so this meagre celebration would suffice, he knew there would be a far grander celebration upon his coronation as prince, but that meant little at the moment.
As he had expected, many of those nobles had brought their daughters, cousins, nieces, sisters; indeed, it appeared the women outnumbered the men.
All the maidens of Osgiliath wore fine ramnients and remarkable gems indeed each was fairer than the last, but that mattered little seeing the gloominess of his loved ones filled him with a malice that was unbefitting a man of his rank, so he must bear the flirtations of fawning of these maidens lest he offends their families.
And all the maidens looked at him with a fierce hunger as if he were a fine leg of lamb and they were a pack of particularly ravenous hounds.
At that moment, Arianne, Daenerys and Rhaenys stood in front of him, hoping to drive away these upstarts; indeed, his blood was set aflame when he saw the sumptuous dresses they wore scarlet for Arianne, orange for Rhaenys, turquoise for Dany, silver for Shiera, and amethyst for Ashara, each gown was fashioned of the fairest silks their beauty was further enriched by the jewels of Khazad-dûm. It seemed as if the ramnients were sewn of starlight.
The beauty of those jewels aroused the envy of the Gondorians, who gazed at the pieces with a fierce longing, undoubtedly desiring that he would forge them things of such beauty.
However, to his stupefaction, Sansa and Arya came on either side of him, both clad in dresses of grey silk. This was a queer sight as Arya loathed to wear anything but riding leathers, and though they were as fair as any maiden of the Southron realm, their grey eyes were hard akin to his uncle Ned.
His cousins were furious with the maidens of Osgiliath for their cheek in endeavouring to tempt him.
"This will not end well" Jon grimly indeed, while the maidens of Annúminas had been cowed by the wroth of his loves, it seems the girls of the Southron realm were made of keener steel.
And in that moment, all the trumpets were blown heralding the arrival of Isildur, Elendur and Anárion, who upon seeing him smiled in merriment clearly pleased that he had worn their gifts.
Anárion met him in the midst of those there assembled and said, "You look splendid, Jon," and swiftly handed him a glass of Gondorian wine.
Jon smiled and took the goblet with thanks. "I thank you, my friend, doubly it seems first for this fine garb and secondly for the wine."
Anárion smiled and took a draught from his goblet. "I see that your cousins and your lovers have laid claim to you once more," Anárion replied, plainly mocking him.
Jon grimaced and nodded. "Aye, but I fear it shall be worse if we attempt to intervene, I must abide it and not make missteps... At least not so soon... though there is a matter I wish to discuss," And this roused the curiousness of the Brothers.
"Surely you speak of Azrubên?" Anárion asked, taking a sip from his glass.
"Aye, it seems he cares little for me or my kin," Jon said grimly.
"Aye, that is apparent to all he cares little for you and less so for your lovers though be bears you no true malice." Isildur continued.
"Try to understand Jon, he is the Steward of Osgiliath, and until we resolved to name you Prince of this city, Azrubên was the chiefest of our advisors. So, it is expected that he feels somewhat slighted since your appointment was very sudden," Said Anárion speaking calmly as if it was a walk, something that Jon noticed.
"Neither of you seems worried," Jon asked, bewildered.
"It is because we are not Baelon, my brother and I carefully choose those who will wield authority in our Kingdom; Azrubên is no exception, it is normal that you are worried that he may cause you problems later, that is good, it seems you are not a naive fool," Isildur said.
"Yet, Azrubên is a good and loyal man who loves Gondor and wishes to see this City prosper; if you prove yourself an able prince, he will be yours. Azrubên may be ambitious, but he's not a traitor; be at peace, Jon the Lords of our Kingdom are not so petty as Westeros," Anárion finished putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, and he nodded with a slight smile.
"Azrubên may not betray me, but I feel in my heart that our association will not be easy", Jon thought regarding the former Steward with a smile.
But at that moment, Azrubên approached them with him were four men, each was tall and proud with sea grey eyes and clad in fine ramnients with many rings and jewelled belts.
"My Lord Jon… might I have the pleasure to introduce you to the Lords of the Southron Kingdom and the mightiest Lords of the Dunedain in whom the race of Númenor runs truest… Lord Earendur, Lord Hallatan, Lord Cemender and Lord Calmacil," Azrubên said solemnly, and the Lords bowed before the Kings of Gondor.
"My Kings..." They said in unison.
"Lord Jon, as our next ruler, it is my duty to introduce you to the members of the Kings councils and rulers of our Fiefs; Erendur is the Lord of Lebennin and master of the Havens of Pelargir," Azrubên said, gesturing to the Lord on his left Erendur was of a fierce countenance and wore a doublet of blue silk upon his finger he bore a great ring shaped as a swan and about his waist was a belt of many gilded rings.
There was something about this man that was very familiar to Jon.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my Lord… Though perhaps I should say my Prince," Lord Erendur said jovially.
"It is a pleasure, my Lord", Jon said.
"I understand that your friend Robar has taken a keen interest in my daughter," The Lord said, and Jon was stunned.
"You are the father of Lady Andreth?" The young Westerosi said, very surprised.
"Yes, and it makes me very sad that my daughter has not decided to visit me on this occasion, but it seems to me that she did not wish to be parted from her companion... Aaah to be youthful and in love," Erendur said amusedly.
"And this is Hallatan, Lord of Lossarnach a true heart and a truer friend you shall never find he rules our Southron fiefdom," Azrubên said, and Hallatan stepped forward he was a tall man whose hair was akin to beaten gold and across his large jaw was a great golden beard, he wore a doublet of red silk, and he wore a long mantle of black silk clasped at the throat with a broach fashioned to resemble a Lion.
"A pleasure, my Lord," Jon said politely, and the old Lord smiled.
"Likewise, Lord Jon... I must say I'm happy to finally meet you. The tales of your adventures have delighted my children for many long years". Hallatan said with courtesy.
"This is Cemender Lord of Pinnath Gelin; he rules the lands in the far west of Gondor, bounded to the west by the River Lefnui, and to the east by the Morthond," Azrubên said, presenting the third Lord, who worn a doublet of green sewn with many flowers.
"A pleasure..." Jon said politely, and Cemender smiled, but he was bewildered when he met the last Lord.
He was a lean and balding man with a short, bristly grey beard. In his eyes, there was an iron will that made Jon comprehend that this man was ruthless... It was as if old Lord Randyll had crossed the Great Ocean to play a cruel jest upon him thought he had never known the Lord of Horn Hill to jape much less smile.
"And lastly, this is Lord Calmacil, Master of Lamedon who defends our Southron realms from the cruel men of Umbar and Harad," Azrubên said, and Lord Calmacil seemed quite pleased by Azrubên's praise.
"It is welcoming to meet Gondor's finest Soldier," Jon said, still surprised by the likeness of this Númenorean Lord to the Lord of Horn Hill in Westeros.
"We have heard stories about you, Baelon Targaryen... stories of your ferocity and strength in battle," Lord Calmacil said dryly.
"It seems they even share the same interest in battle," Jon thought, delighted.
"There are merely fables, my Lord", Jon said modestly.
"But not in every tale a dragon or a Nazgûl is slain," said Lord Cemender.
"My Lord honours me…" Jon said.
"Is that sword Ringil?" Lord Hallatan asked excitedly, and Jon nodded, throwing back his mantle. The silvered scabbard glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Ringil shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out.
Indeed many Lords stepped back, and looks of awe came upon their faces. And they cast down their proud eyes.
"The lone weapon that wounded the Great Enemy," Lord Calmacil said, unable to contain his astonishment and admiration.
"Yes, the one that was the sword of the Great King of the Noldor Fingolfin, and that has saved my life many times," Jon said with great respect for the sword.
"It would be a great honour to be able to measure my strength against this legendary weapon", Lord Calmacil said with humility and emotion in his voice.
"Lord Calmacil, a word of caution, Jon is the fiercest warrior among our fathers' mighty armies," Anárion said with a smirk.
"I know, I've heard a great deal of his deeds and valour in war, and I greatly desire to test my skill against his," Said the Gondorian nobleman.
"We understand that this legendary sword is not the only object of the Elder Days that my Lord possesses," Lord Earendur said with a gleam in his grey eyes.
"It seems that news travels swiftly in these parts," Jon said amusedly.
"So, it seems, and we have heard stranger tales from the North many speak of the might of your dragon and how you employ its fire to forge things of fair form and shape indeed some whisper you rival the smiths of Beleriand," Lord Hallatan said excitedly, and Jon grew weary of this Lord eagerness.
"That is an embellishment. I fear," Jon said, and both Kings snorted in jest.
"Yes, of course, our father holds you and your skills in high regard, Baelon Targaryen; thanks to you, the armoury of Annúminas shines like silver, and their weapons shall never rust nor lose their keen edge, I dare say that the punishment that my father desired to impose on you backfired spectacularly," Said Isildur with a hearty laugh this was rather queer as the Lord of Minas Ithil had become rather dour since the Isle of Kings fell beneath the waves.
"Ah, it's true, I remember it too," Anárion said, joining his elder brother in his merriment.
"What are you two laughing at, my Kings?" Asked Rhaenys, who had approached the gathered Lords.
"I would like to know too," Jon said, remembering the horrid toil that he endured under Elendil.
"Before we departed Annúminas, I could see the shadow of regret in my fathers' eyes as he saw the many gleaming wonders you left in the armoury… I'm certain he laments letting you travel South," Isildur said with a pleased smile.
And at that moment, everyone who heard the amusing tale laughed, and even Lord Calmacil had a smile on his face revealing that he was not as dour as the Lord of Horn Hill.
"As you say," Jon said with a shrug.
"I am eager to see such prowess in metalworking," Lord Cemender said.
"Indeed, you have, old friend, much of the weapons and jewellery that the Westerosi entourage wears were forged by my renowned friend," Anárion said proudly, placing a hand on his shoulder while the Lords of Gondor regarded the jewels with keen interest.
Each one more beautiful than the last.
"My Lord Baelon… You have a gift… that much is certain I've never seen such fine craft even in the markets of Armenelos," Azrubên acknowledged, impressed with the quality of Jon's work.
"Not a gift, my Lord, but earned through many long years of toil and practice," Jon said, downing his wine in a single draught.
"They say that the Dwarves are great masters but far too harsh in pursuit of perfection," said the young Erendur speaking for the first time.
"Aye, I attest that this is true; indeed, the Sons of Durin are far hardier in the arts of forging than the Elves and far harsher critiques," Jon said, and many were unnerved by the rigour of the Dwarves.
"By the Valar…" Anárion said with a pitying expression on his face.
"I am sure Lord Jon's mastery will be beneficial against the pirates of Umbar; those traitors to the Valar have become insolent," Lord Calmacil said.
Jon had heard of Umbar; it was a great Fortress founded by Tar-Aladrion when Aldarion scarcely escaped shipwreck in the Harad during a voyage with three ships; After the Downfall of Númenor, Umbar remained in the hands of the Númenóreans, in essence, a realm-in-exile alongside Arnor and Gondor. But unlike these others, Umbar was a refuge for the Black Númenóreans, those who followed the policies of Tar-Ancalimon and his successors.
While Sauron was in Númenor as an adviser to King Ar-Pharazon and the Shadow and dissent grew greater, Umbar was one of the fortresses and abodes of the coastlands, still inhabited by the King's Men and servants in Middle-earth at their will. These evil lords were concentrated chiefly in the south, far from King Gil-galad's domain.
Umbar was at that time a noteworthy point of deportation of enslaved people and taxes to Númenor. At least until its destruction as punishment from Ilúvatar for its rebellion.
Umbar is presently ruled by two Black Númenórean lords, Herumor and Fuinur.
"And the King's Men are troubling Gondor?" Jon asked, perceiving dark days ahead.
"Nothing we haven't been capable of enduring so far... But maybe it's time to be more forceful," Lord Calmacil said with ferocity in his voice and hatred in his eyes.
No dared to speak until Isildur gave Azrubên a curious look, and the Steward nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
"Well, my Lords, it has been an honour that you have come, but now we come to the reason we've gathered here so that Jon may take up the reigns of his Stewardship," Isildur said handing his cup to a passing servant.
"In that case, my King, with your permission, we shall depart and leave you to conclude this affair… Lord Jon, it was an honour to meet you and see firsthand that many of the legends that are told about you are true… I hope we may speak again and perhaps cross blades during your years in the South," said Lord Calmacil, who swiftly departed alongside his fellow Lords.
"Are there legends about me?" Jon asked Anárion after the Lords had left, and Anárion, Isildur, Elendur and Rhaenys started chortling.
Anárion smiled and took another draught of wine. "There have been tales about you from the moment we learned you and your companions anchored in Middle-earth".
Rhaenys laughed merrily and kissed him. "You're a fool, Jon,"
"But think nothing of it, Baelon… The time has come to formally appoint you as Prince of Osgiliath," Isildur said with authority in his voice.
"As you command… King Isildur," Jon said happily.
"In that case, you should tell your family and your… Concubines," Isildur said.
"I'll go... But you shall be my escort brother," Rhaenys said joyfully as they departed to seek out their family.
For a few moments, he, Isildur, Anárion and Elendur remained silent, eyeing the modest party until little by little until his family made their way towards him. Then, before Sansa and Arya could claim aside next to him, Rhaenys quickly claimed her place at his side with splendid speed and grace, much to the ire of his cousins, and Lady loves such antics undoubtedly provoked his grandmother to snort in vexation.
"This will never end... It's your fault, Jon," The Targaryen matriarch said wearily, and before he could waylay her torment, Azrubên returned.
"Everything is ready… Follow me, please," The Steward said with a low bow.
And the entourage followed after him, mindful to weave through the gathering nobles offering thanks and praise to their new prince, many wishing him good health and numerous heirs much to the embarrassment of the maidens gathered.
"How are you feeling, Jon?" Rhaella asked him happily.
He turned to his grandmother and smiled "It still seems a waking dream, grandmother; I never thought myself to be a great Lord of men nor to rule a realm so fair, yet it seems many have faith in my character, so I shall endeavour to rule this realm in a manner that shall please Elendil and his sons."
"My prince, you speak as if an Elven Lord," The Steward said, surprised by Jon's humility.
"Thank you, my Lord Steward…." Jon said with a slight bow, and Azrubên turned to look at him in such a way that he seemed to be scrutinising him for a few moments before nodding.
"Now... I know that you are probably focused and a little nervous in your official appointment, but it seems right to caution you of something that has been transpiring in the City," Azrubên said with a smile as if he had heard a rather humorous jest.
"What is it about?" Jon asked worriedly.
"Lately, some adventurers have gone to explore the southern lands of far Harad and have brought many strange trinkets. Chief among them were many exotic flowers and plants that we have used to adorn our fair City though… indeed, some had purposes as remedies for fevers or poultices, nothing of any true note," The Steward said.
"Until now…" Ashara guessed with a frown.
"Yes, I'm afraid so... On our last expedition, they found on the edge of Harad a very peculiar rose... Beautiful to look at and with a sweet and wondrous odour... but some wise women among the Haradrim put it to a more... troublesome use," Azrubên said, labouring to stem his laughter.
"Speak clearly, Azrubên," Isildur said, tired of such nonsense and eager to conclude this ceremony.
"The wise women who work with plants prepare all kinds of salves and concoctions discovered that this rose can be used to create... A powerful elixir one that has queer effects on those who imbibed in it" said the Steward.
"Unsettling outcomes in men?" Shiera asked, becoming increasingly wary.
"It is an elixir that provokes great passion in those who drink it... a love potion in layman's terms," Azrubên said with annoyance.
"An aphrodisiac?" Ashara asked, intrigued and nervous.
"It's a mighty aphrodisiac, capable of conquering the strongest will with the proper amount," Azrubên said nervously.
"And it's dangerous?" Anárion asked, undoubtedly intrigued that such a thing would come to his city.
"Well, until now… But, not remarkably, although it has caused us a great deal of trouble in recent weeks, the women of the city especially those from noble families… Well, they have started using it frequently to… Find husbands of their choice, and that has caused conflicts in families due to betrothals long promised," Azrubên said worriedly.
At that moment, the Westerosi and Isildur, Anárion and Elendur shared a look as they discerned where the discussion was leading.
"Go on..." Isildur said, getting more and more annoyed.
"With such aphrodisiacs, various Ladies from famous families have enchanted young prospects of their choosing, commonly causing some to take them as lovers and when the effect of the aphrodisiac subsides... The poor young men must plight their troth lest they humiliate their families," Azrubên said grimly.
"That's truly horrid and dishonourable. I'd hope the maidens of Westernesse would have more dignity," Anárion said indignantly and fearful that they would try to use that evil concoction on him.
"I agree with my brother… I hope you have taken action, Azrubên," Isildur ordered, vexed.
"We have tried my Kings, and for the most part, we have been successful in pulling this vexing concoction from the markets, but we cannot do anything with those that were bought before the outlawing. However, it seems prudent to me to warn you since the news spread that Lord Jon would come to rule Osgiliath, I'm afraid that many daughters of renowned families have gladdened, so I'm afraid that some of them could still have some of that irksome elixir," Azrubên said with a smile seeing Jon pale countenance.
"WHAT!?" All the ladies who came with Jon shouted at the same time.
Azrubên laughed heartily, "Yes, that's why I mentioned this... Vile concoction so that Lord Jon is mindful of any gift granted to him, especially those given by the maidens of Gondor".
"If those… slattern dares to do so, I WILL CUT THEM WITH MY AXE!" Rhaenys roared, afraid that her beloved brother would be taken away from her with such a lowly trick.
The other Westerosi Ladies only nodded and muttered approval with angry growls.
"From what I see... My governance shall be fraught with troubles... It's a pleasing my brothers in arms aren't here, or there would be no end of jest and japes at my expense," Jon thought, resigned to the troubles of dealing with such fiery maidens.
"Don't worry... Those potions have caused problems. Yes, some families have grumbled of an insult to their honour, but for the most part, nothing unbearable has ensued; I merely desired to inform Prince Jon lest the maidens of the City sneak off with him in the night," Azrubên said jovially.
No one said anything else until Rhaenys noticed the ring on Jon's hand.
"It's an exquisite ring you're wearing, Jon, but I don't remember seeing it before... It's an enchanting piece," she said, enthralled, bringing Jon's hand.
"It's... It's... A gift," Jon managed to say.
"Why are you nervous, my silly wolf?... It's just a ring," Arianne asked, baffled.
"Wait a minute…" Rhaenys said, glimpsing the ring's heraldry.
"By the Valar." Jon thought, fearful they would discover Galadriel's intentions.
"A many rayed Sun upon a field of white..." Rhaenys said, remembering her lessons on the heraldry of the Noldorian Lords.
"The emblem of the House of Finarfin..." Said Anárion and Azrubên, suddenly gleaning who had given Jon that ring.
"By the Valar, I have never seen such a remarkable ring... Who gave it to you?" Isildur asked.
"I already told you it was a gift..." Jon snarled nervously, and Rhaella gazed at her ring and then returned to Jon's.
"You forged that ring… I recognise your work, Baelon," Rhaella said with a mischievous smile.
"Grandmother," He said nervously.
"Why does the ring bear the heraldry of the High King of the Noldor?" Isildur asked.
And knowing he could not deny it any longer, Jon relented.
"Galadriel asked me to forge something for her, and I chose to forge this ring for her, but she surprised me by offering it to me; she said it was a gift…." Jon said happily.
And with those words, everyone perceived that the Lady of Light had honoured Jon as her husband by carrying the emblem of her House with him, and this aroused the ire of the maidens present who knew that their beloved now belonged to the House of Finarfin by marriage it seemed the Lady of Light was far shrewder than they had thought likely.
"I didn't think the Lady of Light was so… forward in conveying her emotions," Anárion said, remembering years ago when he contended his friend about his affinity with the Lady of Edhellond.
"All Queens and noblewomen are like that, my brother; they usually can't convey their feelings easily, but when the noble Ladies decide to fight for their love... They are truly fearsome..." Isildur said, remembering his own wife.
"We have arrived…" Azrubên said nervously, and now they stood before great oaken doors embedded with many gems and set with silver letters in the Quenya script.
"Those who are blessed by the Blood of Elros the Wise may enter here" Jon read, concluding where they had arrived.
"Behind this door is the greatest treasure of the city, it is appropriate that your appointment be given in this place... Prince Baelon of the House of Targaryen," Isildur said formally.
And at that moment, the sons of Elendil reach into their breast pockets and produced two keys with long barrels and intricate wards, made of silver. Then the brothers stepped forward and put it to the hole. It fitted, and it turned! Snap! The gleam went out, and it seemed the sun sank, the moon was gone, and they entered the chamber of Stars.
It was spacious, immensely spacious, with gleaming silver walls, and was lit by many torches; at the back was a large bronze door with the emblem of the House of Anárion, and on the ceiling was an exquisite stained-glass ceiling that reflected the sunlight in many shades and hues flooding the chamber with a pleasant light.
The Dome of the Stars, an apt name all Westerosi thought... However, the beauty of the room paled in comparison to the treasure that resided therein. There sat a great stone black at jet that seemed to glow with many colours.
The Osgiliath Stone, the largest of the seven palantíri in Middle-earth since Númenor, is found beneath the Dome of the Stars, after which the city is named. While most of the palantíri were small and portative, the Stone of Osgiliath was much larger and could not be lifted by a Man.
"It's immense…" Rhaella said, bewildered by the immensity of the great stone.
"Yes... Although unfortunately, it does not allow us to gaze upon the Immortal lands such as the Palantíri of Annúminas that our father possesses, aside from that... This is the mightiest of the stones we brought from Númenor," Anárion said proudly.
At that moment, Jon decided to do something he had desired to do since he began testing the limits of his new gifts in Khazad-dûm, and after a few moments' thought, he went straight to the Palantíri.
"Jon?" Isildur asked, confused by that lack of decorum.
"Baelon!" Rhaella roared, furious at this lack of respect from her grandson.
"Forgive me, Isildur and Anárion... I mean no disrespect... but I have desired to do this since my time with King Durin," Jon said solemnly and set his hands on either side of the Palantíri.
"I know that you are much stronger than a common mortal Jon and even stronger than most of the Eldar… But I don't think you can move that stone," Anárion said with certainty, seeing that Jon struggled to move the Palantíri.
In fact, Jon made an enormous effort to move the gigantic stone, but it didn't seem to work; since Jon returned from the Rooms of Command, everyone knew that he had considerable bodily strength, but none had tested the limits of said strength.
However, all that was forgotten when they heard a sinister growl coming from Jon, and before everyone's astonished gaze, the immense Palantíri began to move, and everyone's breath stopped when the immense seer stone slowly rose from its resting place, and little by little, Jon managed to raise it to the height of his head.
"Impossible..." Anárion said with his mouth open.
"By… Tulkas…" Isildur said, impressed by such strength.
"Jon?..." Arianne whispered, but with another savage growl, Jon dropped the vast stone, causing the ground to crack, and a tremendous crash was heard throughout the tower.
And then Jon fell to his knees, his face reddened and sweat dripping from his brow. He was utterly spent from his efforts in lifting the mighty stone that needed the strength of five stout men to even move.
"Jon..." Sansa said nervously, seeing her beloved cousin in such a state.
"I'm fine..." He said as his expression returned to normal for everyone's peace of mind.
"You're foolish, Jon…" Shiera said, punching him repeatedly on the shoulder.
"I agree…" Rhaenys growled, hitting her beloved brother on the head as well.
"Enough Shiera, Rhaenys… Elendur and Azrubên, please help him up," Ashara barked.
For a moment, neither moved, but upon seeing the fury in her amethyst eyes, the two men scrambled to help Jon to his feet.
"Yes, my Lady", Elendur and Azrubên said simultaneously, daunted by Ashara while Elendur's father smiled and Anárion openly laughed at his nephew.
"That was unusual, Jon Snow… I had heard that you were stronger than a mortal man… But this…" Isildur said.
"Such strength in one of the Second-born these are indeed strange days when one of our kin can be counted amongst the mightiest heroes of the First Age," Anárion said, astonished.
"Aye, and now it seems I know the limits of my strength," Jon said.
"Indeed, though, it doesn't change the fact you've caused a great commotion and ruined the floor," Rhaella said, striking him across the face as if he were a child.
"Well, we certainly didn't expect Jon to set out to do this… But to see that show of force… It really was a sight none of us here will ever forget," Isildur said admiringly.
"You're right, brother… Jon always finds a way to amaze us… Although this time he could have chosen another method," Anárion growled.
"I'm sorry," Jon said apologetically.
"You won't escape the consequences with just 'I'm sorry,' Jon, but we'll put that aside for now... truly your strength is marvellous," Isildur said with fascination.
"I felt my muscles rend from the exertion as they healed, and the beast in me laboured to get out... That's why I gave in and dropped the Palantíri," Jon said, feeling frightened at the thought of his battle lust consuming him.
"And when you felt it emerge, did you drop the sphere?" Daenerys asked, curiously laying her head on Jon's shoulder as Jon nodded.
"Then how shall his strength be measured should the beast truly take hold of him" Everyone in the vault thought with concern.
"Indeed, I never thought that his strength would be so great as to heft the seeing stone," Elendur said curiously.
"Truly a marvellous feat of strength, son... but now we have other duties... Azrubên, have the preparations been seen to?" Isildur asked, still surprised by Jon's strength.
"Everything is ready, my King", Azrubên said, nodding and going to the other side of the room, bringing with him a wooden chest.
Azrubên knelt before Isildur and Anárion opened the box, and both brothers turned to Jon before nodding.
"Very well... It's time," Anárion said and opened the bronze door that was at the end of the dome allowing the sunlight to completely fill the room, and the bustle of the inhabitants of the city could be heard outside.
"Are you ready, Baelon Targaryen?" Isildur asked, and Jon remained silent.
"Let's find out…" The young Targaryen said after a moment.
And with that, the three of them went out to the balcony, followed by Jon's loves and his cousins as well as Elendur though Azrubên stayed behind while watching him warily.
--------------------------
In addition to feeling the bright light and warmth of the sun, Jon could hear the exclamations of joy from the inhabitants of Osgiliath to see their Kings again... And yes, him.
In his long-ago youth, Jon had imagined many times at the King's feet either being legitimised as a true Stark or on other occasions imagining himself becoming a Kingsguard alongside Loras.
In those fantasies were his uncle Ned, his then brother Robb, Sansa and Arya, together with the Tyrells and the population of King's Landing praising him... But after the failure that was his life in Westeros, the death of his uncle Ned, King Renly, Margaery's betrayal and his exile indeed, all those dreams had turned to hollow ash swept away by the bitterness of the game he feared he would die alone and forgotten in some far-flung land. And now, in a land far away from his home, all those childhood dreams were coming true... All the wealth, glory, fame and power he had always dreamed of were now his... And yet, although he felt grateful for it, he did not feel as if he should feel this way.
Jon was not ungrateful and will make sure to do his duty to the best of his ability… even if he doesn't feel comfortable having so much responsibility on his shoulders.
After all, duty is a duty... And for better or worse, he has always fulfilled his, so now, strange as it may seem and not feeling exceptionally pleased, Jon will not disappoint the trust that Elendil and his children have placed in him.
He will now rule and defend Osgiliath with strength, wisdom, and compassion… With the aid of his grandmother Rhaella and Azrubên.
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"Citizens of Osgiliath!... You are gathered here to witness the coronation of your ruler, Baelon of House Targaryen... Jon Herenlounga and the slayer of Khamû!" Isildur shouted, and the people roared in approval.
"King Isildur is rather well mannered and courteous in his speech," Jon said, admiring the way Isildur mastered the throng of people.
"He is our father's heir, and yes, you must concede he is more eloquent than I", Anárion said with some envy in his voice, and Jon smiled.
"Now you can be calm even if my brother and I are not with you because with the strength and knowledge of Jon as well as the knowledge of Lord Azrubên who has guided you for many years, never will the lands of our people be marred by the shadow of the enemy!" Isildur bellowed.
"And he didn't forget Azrubên, that's good", Jon said snidely, still having fun at Isildur's expense, and Anárion laughed heartily.
"Thank you, Lord Jon.." Azrubên said with an amused smile as he listened to Jon and Anárion's conversation.
"Now, Jon, step forward and kneel!" Isildur ordered. Then Azrubên approached his King and handed him a sceptre of gold; it was set with many gems and carven with dragons and flowers whose eyes and petals were of jewels.
It was a beautiful piece… Although it had flaws.
"It was forged for you as a symbol of your nobility and position as the new Prince of Osgiliath," Isildur said.
"I hope it doesn't go to my head," Jon thought, amused.
"Now stand up and look at the inhabitants of your domain… Baelon of House Targaryen, Prince of Osgiliath and Lord of Emyn Arnen!" Isildur shouted as the citizens' cries of excitement filled the entire City.
Jon then made answer. Standing to his full height, he laid his hand upon the battlements and, in his right hand, held up the sceptre of the Prince and spoke words that filled those who heard them with awe. For as he stood up, the sun went down in flame in the West, and his white robe seemed to be flame; and he lifted up his voice and sworn a mighty oath in the tongue of men and Elves: so, I shall rule this realm as wisely as the Lords of Westernesse ere they set foot upon these shores, "Vanda sina termaruva Elenna-nóreo alcar enyalien ar Elendil Vorondo voronwë. Nai tiruvantes i hárar mahalmassen mi Númen ar i Eru i or ilyë mahalmar eä tennoio."
"We'll see what the future holds for me as ruler... Jon thought while for a few moments he felt something more... Comfortable with his new position and felt the looks and smiles of pride and happiness from his loves, cousins and his grandmother Rhaella, lamenting that his loved ones Lalwen and Galadriel were not here to see his glory.
"Ha, all shall be forgiven when we meet again," He thought, eager to have both Princesses of the Noldor in his bed again.
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Westeros (one and a half years after the taking of King's Landing)
.
Tyrion Lannister was currently in his cabin on King Aegon VI's new flagship called "The Dragon's Wrath" en route to the Reach.
It had been a year since his despicable sister was defeated and stripped of all power in King's Landing, and she is presently locked up in the filthiest, darkest, coldest and most nauseating of the Black Cells; below the Red Keep and is also flogged once a week... Courtesy yours, of course.
It turns out that while the Red Priest's magic ring got them the 7 Kingdoms, it isn't particularly helpful in helping them maintain it, as damage to the Kingdom from war, shortages of people, as well as financial problems inherited from Robert Baratheon, will plague the Kingdom. Kingdom for the next few generations with a good chance that they will be resolved by the time his great-grandson will be Lord of Casterly Rock, hopefully, and assuming he has descendants.
Because of that, Tyrion couldn't help but think about his niece and nephew Tommen and Myrcella; the former King didn't seem all that bothered by the fact that he lost his Throne, although his age possibly helped, although he sometimes asks while smiling when he will be able to sit on the Throne again, and in those moments Tyrion is overwhelmed Tommen is a charming boy and never desired to be used in that way… But he will never be able to appear at Court again, and he shall never be a lord of any keep as none wished to have an inbred boy ruling over them.
However, Myrcella was an entirely different matter.
Now Tyrion understands that like everyone else in his family, he underestimated his niece; although she inherited her mother's beauty and thankfully none of her personality, she inherited her grandfather's brains and her drunken, handsome uncle's sympathy for the downtrodden.
After they defeat Cersei and begin rebuilding the Kingdom, Tyrion asks about his niece and the Martells comment that they are puzzled by how Cersei worshipped her eldest and excluded her younger children, when Myrcella is actually the kind of born ruler that Joffrey never was.
This attracted Tyrion's astonishment since although he knew that Myrcella was very intelligent, he never imagined to what extent, at least until the Martells told him. She is apparently preternaturally shrewder than many double her age, very brave as well as kind and a natural leader for defending her Tommen from Joffrey when she could.
The Martells also told her that they find her witty and a perfect Lady with a polite courtesy that Cersei never expressed. Which proved to Tyrion that since he was the only one of Tywin Lannister's three children to inherit his keen mind, Myrcella was the only one of Cersei's three children to inherit the family's famous intellect.
"When she gets married, her husband will be doomed… Tyrion thought of the young man with amusement as he lay on his listening to the rocking of the ocean.
The best part of all is that King Aegon was so happy to regain the Throne that he legitimised them without hesitation in the same way that he legitimised Edric Storm, now known as Edric Baratheon, the new Lord of Storm's End, to guarantee the loyalty of the Stormlands.
That was a risky idea, but it was necessary to start unifying the 7 Kingdoms, now having control of the Crownlands, Stormlands, Dorne and Westernlands.
Now Myrcella was again eligible for a marriage alliance; although she was no longer a Princess, she was almost certain to become Lady of Casterly Rock one day… Although her engagement to Tristan Martell was a moot point, it seemed the boy prefered to have cock in his ass.
The Tyrells, for their part, had been exiled from the Court, even though Tyrion tried to convince the new King to be benevolent since they would need the Tyrell crops during the winter. Finally, Aegon relented... albeit narrowly; he didn't punish the Tyrell's; he did banish them from his court.
So their relations with the Reach are strained, very strained but not necessarily hostile… So, for now, it was best that they continue that way.
The problem was the North, Riverlands and Vale.
Those three kingdoms had yet to officially bend the knee to the Iron Throne despite the efforts Tyrion and Jon Connington had made, stripping House Frey of their titles and sending men to the Wall, including the weasel himself who was sent to Winterfell amid tears, curses and pleading.
And the most surprising thing is that somehow Catelyn Stark survived the Red Wedding, which was a shock to the Kingdom; however, it was nothing compared when a few weeks later, a raven flew to Casterly Rock where Ned Stark's widow said she had Jamie imprisoned and wished to exchange him for her daughter Sansa.
That filled Tyrion's heart with fear and doubt, he and his brother may not have parted on the best of terms, but Tyrion loved him nonetheless.
However, there was not much that could be done since his wife had been missing since Joffrey's Wedding, and he did not know her whereabouts, so he begged her not to harm his brother and to please not betray her position to the Crown it was almost certain that the King would execute him for what happened to the Mad King.
For weeks Tyrion waited nervously for Catelyn Stark's answer, believing that she would not deign to answer until after a few harrowing weeks a letter arrived, one in which she agreed to have Jamie as a "guest" but that in case the King march against Winterfell Tyrion should not lend his support or she would send him his brother piece by piece.
Something that a nervous Tyrion accepted… Unbeknownst to his King.
"If the King or his council discovers me… I will be much worse than dead," Tyrion thought, terrified remembering King Aegon's ring, so for the moment, his relations with the North and the other Kingdoms are cold, but that will not last because King Aegon wants Rickon Stark, Robert Arryn and Edmure Tully to go to King's Landing to declare their allegiance to the Throne… Just as soon as he's done with his latest crisis.
The Iron Islands...
The stupid squids, not happy with the killings and looting they carried out in the North, now try to loot the Reach, something that they clearly cannot allow, in part so as not to lose the food reserves that will keep them alive during the winter as well as not to let go of a territory.
The new King of the Iron Islands, Victarion Greyjoy, turned out to be as stupid as the tales had said... Only a fool will start a war during the Winter, so now King Aegon, eager to crush all traitors with the power of his cursed ring, left for the Reach with the fleet of Tyrion's family in Lannisport, accompanied by Lord Connington and his Kingsguard who had gained a new Knight.
Ser Gerold Dayne, better known as Darkstar, a Dornish warrior with fearsome skill and a cruel tongue, was related to Ser Arthur Dayne, and from what Tyrion knew, the little cretin was jealous of the memory of the "Sword of the Morning". The best proof of this was that despite being the best swordsman of House Dayne, he had not been given the honour of carrying "Dawn", which is a sensitive point for him.
After thinking about it, Tyrion got out of bed and went to pour himself some wine while he thought about how this would end.
With the power of the ring of Annatar, King Aegon has ruled unchallenged. Still, Tyrion notices that the King seems to distance himself from everyone except his cousin Tyene whom he has become very fond of and seems to want to legitimise yo marry, a disastrous idea under normal conditions, except that for now, with the exception of Margaery Tyrell there is no Lady in Westeros noble enough to be the King's consort.
Also, Tyrion needed to talk to Varys about his encounter with Annatar to see if the Spider's "Little Birds" could find the Red Priest who had promised to return to the King's side... But apparently, he broke his promise, Tyrion didn't miss Annatar at all, but I didn't trust his absence.
"This will end badly…" Sipping his glass of wine as they sailed to meet the Greyjoys.
Notes:
Thanks to Great Read