77 AC
Twins
Third Person Pov
It took two moons for the lords sworn to the Iron Throne to assemble at the Twins for war preparation. All the major lords who are participating in the war are in the meeting room. King Jaehaerys I Targaryen presided over a small council meeting. Attending were Lord Corwyn Velaryon, Prince Aemon Targaryen, Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lord Tymond Lannister, Lord Rodrik Arryn, Lord Glover Tully, Lord Eustace Hightower, Lord Leo Tyrell, Lord Rogar Baratheon, Lord Maron Greyjoy, Lord Manfryd Redwyne, master of ships, Ryam Redwyne, and Lord commander of kingsguard. The war council members brought their unique perspectives to the table.
The war room at the Twins buzzed with a cacophony of voices as the lords of the south debated their course of action. Maps were spread across the long table, marked with troop movements and potential battlefields. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, wine, and the nervous energy of men on the brink of war.
"My lords," boomed Lord Baratheon, his voice carrying over the din, "we cannot rush headlong into the North. We know little of their forces, their defenses. A cautious approach is warranted."
Lord Tully nodded in agreement. "Indeed. The North is vast, its terrain unforgiving. A prolonged campaign would stretch our resources thin. Perhaps," he suggested, "we should send envoys. Attempt negotiations."
"Negotiate?" Lord Lannister scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. "With rebels? They've declared themselves independent! Such defiance deserves only one answer: fire and blood."
"Yet," Lord Arryn countered, his tone measured, "is it truly weakness to seek a peaceful resolution? We are the King's vassals, not his butchers. We owe him wise counsel, not blind obedience."
Prince Aemon, ever the voice of reason, spoke calmly. "Father, a parley would allow us to gauge their strength, understand their terms. It might even prevent unnecessary bloodshed. Surely, that is preferable to the slaughter of thousands."
Prince Baelon slammed his fist on the table, his face flushed with anger. "They've rejected his rule! There's nothing to negotiate. We crush them, and we crush them swiftly."
The debate raged on, voices rising and falling, each lord presenting his own strategic considerations. Some advocated for a swift and overwhelming assault, others for a more measured approach, and still others for a diplomatic solution.
King Jaehaerys, who had listened patiently to the cacophony, finally raised his hand, silencing the room. All eyes turned to him, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
"You speak of caution, of parley," the King said, his voice low but firm. "You speak of the costs of war, the strength of the North, and the need for justice. I have heard you all. Very well. We will have a meeting with the enemy. Send word to Starks. Inform them that we are willing to hear their terms, to discuss a peaceful resolution, if one is possible. But," he added, his voice hardening, "make it clear that this is not a sign of weakness. We come to this parley with the full strength of the Iron Throne at our back. But let us continue making plans for war, for even with parley, we must be prepared for the worst."
The King then turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Lord Redwyne," he addressed the Master of Ships, "you will command the eastern fleet. Your target is White Harbor. Take the city, and you will cut off a vital supply line to the Northmen."
He then turned to a grim-faced lord. "Lord Greyjoy, you will command the western fleet. Your task is to raid the western coasts of the North, sowing chaos and preventing them from concentrating their forces."
With the naval strategies in place, the council's attention turned to the main assault. "Now," the King said, "comes the question of the vanguard. Who will lead the attack on Moat Cailin?"
Immediately, several voices rose in eager contention. Prince Baelon, ever eager for battle, was the first to speak. "I will lead the vanguard, Father. It is my right, as a Prince of the Realm, and I will break those Northern dogs."
Lord Lannister, his pride wounded, was quick to object. "Such an honor should go to the Warden of the West! My men are seasoned warriors, and we will not be denied our place at the front."
Lord Baratheon, his voice booming with authority, argued for the strength of the Stormlands. "The men of the Stormlands are strong and fierce, and they have a history of facing Northern steel. The vanguard should be ours!"
Lord Tully, surprisingly forceful, declared, "My knights are among the finest in the realm. Riverrun has stood against sieges for centuries; we know how to take a castle. The vanguard should be mine to command."
The debate quickly devolved into a cacophony of competing claims, each lord extolling the virtues of his own forces and demanding the honor of leading the vanguard. The room filled with the familiar tension of rivalries and ambition, threatening to undermine the unity of their purpose.
As the lords argued, King Jaehaerys remained a study in patience. He allowed them to voice their desires, their pride, and their battle cries, knowing that in this display of martial fervor lay a key to understanding their strengths and weaknesses. Yet, he also knew that such squabbling could not be allowed to fester, lest it disrupt the cohesion of the royal army.
Finally, when the din reached its peak, the King raised his hand once more. The chamber slowly quieted, the lords turning their attention to their monarch, their faces flushed with a mixture of anger and anticipation.
"Enough," Jaehaerys commanded, his voice firm and resonant. "I appreciate your eagerness, my lords, your desire to serve the realm and to prove your valor. But this is not a matter of personal glory. It is a matter of strategy."
He looked at each of the contenders in turn. "Prince Baelon, your courage is unquestionable, but you are needed elsewhere. Your command will be crucial in the battles to come, and I cannot risk you in the vanguard." Baelon, though clearly disappointed, inclined his head in acceptance.
"Lord Lannister," the King continued, "the westerlands will provide the bulk of our forces, and their discipline is renowned. But your strength lies in organization and logistics, ensuring our armies are well-supplied. You will remain at my side." Lord Lannister, though perhaps begrudgingly, also acquiesced.
"Lord Baratheon, your men are indeed fierce, and their experience against Northern foes is valuable. But the Stormlands must also be ready to defend against any unforeseen threats. Your place is to command the center, the heart of our army."
Finally, the King turned to Lord Tully. "Lord Tully, your knights are skilled, and Riverrun's defenses are formidable. But Moat Cailin is not a traditional siege. We need speed, adaptability, and a willingness to fight in treacherous terrain. Therefore, the vanguard will be led by Ser Ryam Redwyne. His skill and experience in leading smaller companies make him ideally suited for this task."
The King then addressed his sons, his expression serious. "Aemon, Baelon," he said, his voice ringing with authority. "Be prepared to take to the skies. Your dragons may be needed to break the Northmen's resolve. They are stubborn and proud, and this meeting may not go as smoothly as we hope."
Turning to face the assembled lords, King Jaehaerys spoke with a grave tone. "My lords, we must bring this conflict to a swift conclusion. We cannot afford a protracted war in the North. Word has reached my ears that Dorne watches our movements with interest. They have long coveted the lands north of the Boneway, and if they sense weakness, they will not hesitate to test our borders."
A murmur of concern rippled through the hall. Lord Baratheon, ever vigilant about the southern borders, spoke first. "The Dornish are always a threat, Your Grace. They are like vipers, striking swiftly and without warning. A war in the North, combined with Dornish incursions, could stretch our forces thin."
Lord Tully nodded in agreement. "Indeed. And they have grown bolder in recent years, raiding our marches and harassing our trade routes. They interpret our focus on the North as a sign of weakness."
Lord Lannister, ever mindful of the realm's finances, added, "A two-front war would be a disaster. The cost in men and gold would be crippling. We must not allow Dorne to exploit this situation."
"Then," King Jaehaerys stated, his voice resolute, "the matter is settled. We proceed with both the parley and the war plans, with equal diligence. We send word to Starks, offering a chance for negotiation, but we do so with an army at our back, ready to enforce the King's peace." He looked at each lord in turn, his gaze unwavering. "Let there be no doubt: we seek a resolution that upholds the authority of the Iron Throne and secures the realm. But if the Northmen refuse to bend, then we will show them the true meaning of the dragon's wrath."
The assembled lords, finally united in purpose, though still tinged with the uncertainty of what lay ahead, nodded their assent. The plans for both the parley and the war now set, the meeting slowly dissolved. Lords departed to oversee the preparations of their armies and ships, carrying with them the King's words: a mix of hope for peace and the grim determination to wage war if necessary.
As the chamber emptied, King Jaehaerys and his sons remained, the weight of the coming conflict etched upon their faces. The parley would soon begin, but whether it would bring peace or merely a brief respite before a bloody war, no one could say. The fate of the Seven Kingdoms hung in the balance, resting on the words and decisions of a few men and women in the far north.