Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Beans, Priapus, Marethyu, Malcolm Tent, Mike God of Lore
The Unbound
Chapter 25: Iron and Gold
— Margaery Tyrell —
As Orys danced with his little sister, she smiled softly. She'd been asked to dance by a few men, and in truth? Her limp made it difficult and she'd excused herself from most. She'd danced with a couple of highborn men from powerful families or who might be powerful in the future, but with her being the betrothed of Orys the Blessed, his wife in all but name, she had little to fear.
The good people of Westeros either respected or feared Orys too much to do more than think crude thoughts about her. Dibella exposed the worst of them, and she avoided those men with ease, dancing with Harrold Hardyng, the young man that many believed would be the next Warden of the East if Lysa Arryn's son was truly a bastard. He was somewhat a cad himself, and while his actions were openly the picture of chivalry, his desire was clear to her blessed sight and she'd only shared a short dance with him before extracting herself.
In the end, he was relying on Orys making him the new Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East so he wasn't going to risk such a lucrative future by ogling Orys' betrothed. So many people wanted Orys' attention, and she could help take the weight off by attending to some of them herself, making mental notes of the information she would have to pass on to Orys later.
Instead, she'd found herself in discussion with the High Septon and some of the other Most Devout in attendance as they inquired to her own golden eyes. She answered truthfully, the Maiden had shared her gift with Margaery through Orys. It had caused quite the stir but they could not argue when her eyes would glimmer with divine light. She had not missed that one of the Sand Snakes, Tyene, had ingratiated herself with the Septas. Margaery was not as naive, and saw the woman for what she was, but after a tense moment, she'd decided not to expose Tyene's sinful nature.
Tyene clearly knew it as well, giving her a curtsy and a knowing smile.
"My lady, may I steal you away?" Orys asked, distracting her as she beamed. Myrcella looked smug, her Valyrian steel tiara on display for all to see as she danced with a younger highborn boy.
"You certainly may," Margaery agreed, giving the High Septon an apologetic smile, as the old man waved her off with a smile. He was certainly enjoying a considerable boost to his power from Orys' favour and she doubted there was much Orys could do that would cause him to argue. Certainly not wanting to dance with his wife.
"I see your feet survived Arya's best efforts," Margaery teased as he led her onto the dance floor, the other dancers parting and making space for them in the dead centre.
"I told her I'd take her on another hunt once the wedding is over, as long as she showed she could be careful," Orys admitted with a laugh. "I've been itching for another hunt myself, but I've just not had the time."
Despite their casual, teasing conversation, both of their bodies moved in perfect unison, guided by Dibella herself.
"Is she cheating as much for you as she is for me?" Orys asked under his breath, an amused smile touching his lips.
"Most definitely. I've been trained in dancing, of course, but this is… too easy," Margaery agreed with a giggle. Even as their dance moved faster, growing more complex, she always knew exactly where Orys was going to go.
It reminded her of their… dance last night, their bodies in perfect unison. It gave her no small amount of satisfaction to see the other dancers slowly stop their own performance to watch her and Orys, showing them all that they were made for one another.
She paid no attention to how long they spent dominating the dance floor before they came to a stop. Nor to the applause as she curtsied playfully to her partner before he handed her off to Willas.
Her brother gave her a proud smile, no longer using a cane to support himself as they danced slowly. He wasn't fully healed, but each day he moved a little faster and had taken to long walks with Garlan to rebuild the muscles in his legs.
"I hope you're not expecting me to dance like that," Willas teased, as she spotted Orys once again dancing with his little sister, twirling Myrcella around playfully as she giggled. "Even with my healed leg, that's a little beyond me."
"Only a little?" Margaery teased back, getting a laugh and an acknowledging nod from him. "I have to admit, I'm disappointed in you."
Willas missed a step at her stern words, almost tripping before she guided him back into place.
"All you've done all day is sit next to grandmother. Your leg is finally healed and you're not even using it," Margaery continued teasingly, making him sigh with a small smile.
"Grandmother said something similar. I truly do appreciate having my leg back, but I almost wish His Grace had waited a week or so," Willas admitted quietly, glancing around the hall at the many single highborn daughters.
As a cripple, he'd not exactly been seen as a prize despite being the heir to Highgarden. Now that he was whole again, as well as the soon to be Queen's brother? Well, the lionesses were hungry and he was looking like a prime steak.
"Don't be like that! At least dance with a few people you aren't related to. You've missed so much, try to catch up," Margaery reassured him. "If for no other reason than because Grandmother will never let it go if you don't."
"A fair point," Willas agreed with a chuckle. She watched Orys hand Myrcella off to Robert, their father laughing as she stood on his feet while he swung them around in something that could perhaps be classified as a dance if you looked at it sideways. With a loud belly laugh, he tossed Myrcella into the air despite her age, and caught her. It was rather improper, Myrcella's dress shifting with his wild movements, but who was going to tell the King's father he couldn't?
Making their way back to their seats, Orys gave her a grin as he sat down, accepting a drink from Bella. As she spoke with Orys, she spotted Willas dancing with… Lord Yohn Royce's daughter. Ysilla, wasn't it? With the chaos in Vale, the loyal House Royce would likely profit and rise in power once Lysa was deposed. A good pick.
One that would please Olenna, at least. Whether anything came of it was to be seen.
As the guests of honour, privacy was a lost cause. It seemed that every other sentence they had to interrupt their talk to greet the next guest wanting the King's attention. Some just wanted to touch the Blessed King's healing hands, or to lavish them with gifts in the pursuit of making their names known to the newest power couple.
Mellario presented Orys with a Norvoshi Tapestry that was masterfully woven by the skilled artisans of Norvos to show the deeds of Orys One-Hand, the famed member of his house that Orys was named for.
House Tyrell gifted them with a pair of hunting hawks, as a way for Margaery to engage in her husband's hobby. She was no use with a bow, but falconry was an equally respected form of hunting and one she could actually take part in. Willas himself had bred these, and rambled a little about them before catching himself. His passion was clear and Orys was pleased with the pair.
They also presented Margaery with her new ladies in waiting, to go along with the foreign Missandei who was admittedly out of place. She knew Sera 'Durwell' from Highgarden and was glad to see her somewhat friend. Orys paused at their introduction, giving her a curious glance. She wasn't surprised that he caught on so quickly, as House Durwell was long-extinct and a cover for Sera Flowers but he didn't call them out on it. Mira Forrester seemed like a smart girl, even if she was a little wowed by the King.
As sinful as it may be, Margaery was already imagining both of them in Orys' bed.
As the courtiers continued to approach them with gifts and praise aplenty, her eyes landed on one in particular. Lord Orton Merryweather, Lord of Longtable, was something of a sycophant in his lavish praise and gifted them with Myrish perfumes and silks, but it was not him who drew her eye but Taena of Myr, his wife. Orton was a fairly ugly man, but Taena was a true beauty with incredible olive curves and dark, full lips.
Lips that would look so good wrapped around Orys' cock.
"You must tell us all about Myr some time," Margaery cut in as Taena was introduced.
"I'd be honoured to share my culture with you both, Your Grace," Taena agreed in a sultry voice. She was similar to Arianne, but older and less frustrating.
As the pair departed, Orys leaned over.
"Orton was only somewhat recently freed from his exile, after Aerys banished House Merryweather for failing to contain my father's rebellion. He wasn't given all his lands back, and left with a far emptier treasury," Orys explained, getting a nod from her. "I suspect this is the start of their attempts to regain their ancestral lands."
She had heard some of this, as Longtable was in the Reach, but not all of it. She didn't miss the way that Taena ensured that their young son ended up near the excited Princess Myrcella. She doubted any betrothal would come of it, as Myrcella led the younger boy onto the dance floor with a beaming smile, but Taena was certainly the mastermind behind Orton.
Beyond the guests dancing, her family had arranged quite the show with exotic dancers from the Summer Isles, Qarthian illusionists (though Orys hummed and mentioned that they weren't using true magic) and even a pair of Norvoshi dancing bears.
It did amuse her to notice that many of the Essosi guests had… slimmed down their parties. Pleasure slaves and servants seemed to be missing, likely under watch on their ships to avoid them trying to flee into Westeros to become free men and women once the wedding ended.
In fact, Kraznys seemed to be here entirely alone with no guards or servants. Missandei flinched slightly at his stare but she gave her handmaiden a supportive smile. It brought her no small amount of amusement to watch the fat man try to exist without people tending to his every whim.
She spotted Moonshadow dancing with the Sealord's son, the courtesan looking as pure and chaste as any highborn lady. Marenzo was quite the gentleman as well, surprisingly, and simply was enjoying the day's festivities.
"It honours me to see you, your Grace," an older man said, getting her attention again. This one was directly speaking to Orys, more or less ignoring her as she listened curiously. "Lord Horton Redfort, at your service. I am terribly sorry for the trouble the Vale has caused you of late, but rest assured that few agree with Lady Lysa's madness. Redfort stands with you should it come to the worst."
"Your loyalty is appreciated, Lord Redfort. As we have received word that Lysa had sealed the Bloody Gate, my men may need to take a detour to Redfort when they have finished gathering the banners," Orys explained, getting an instant agreement from the old man. Moving on from such grim things, the man introduced his four sons and she couldn't help but notice that the youngest, Mychel, seemed nervous. Nor did she miss the way Lord Redfort seemed to want to discuss something but instead cut himself off and left.
"Mychel is rumoured to be Mya's lover," Orys muttered, frowning slightly as he watched the short boy slip away. "I suspect Lord Redfort is waiting to see if I'm going to legitimise Bella and Mya as true Baratheons. He wouldn't marry his son to Mya Stone, but Mya Baratheon is a different matter entirely."
"Are you?" Margaery asked, just as quiet as she squeezed his hand. He nodded to where Mya was seated near her father, and Margaery focused as she looked at the bond between them.
"Mya's love for Mychel seems true, and he holds some affection for her, though hardly as much. I find the idea of my half-sister marrying someone who is more interested in her name than Mya herself mildly aggravating," Orys admitted. "But yes, I intend to legitimise both. I was going to ask you if you would take Bella on as a handmaiden. A Baratheon can't remain a maid. Mya will be fine as her position of Master of the Horse is noble enough."
"Of course. Grandmother might disagree, but Bella is welcome by my side," Margaery agreed instantly. Having a large retinue would only add to her own renown anyway and she'd need a great deal if she didn't want to live in the shadow of her divine husband. "Don't look now, but Sansa and Joffrey seem ripe to blow. Perhaps a dance could help Sansa relax?"
Orys gave her a warm smile, squeezing her hand as he rose and took her advice, extracting Sansa from her miserable betrothed. Joffrey went to argue before he sat back down with the biggest sulky frown on his face.
Sensing a particularly perverted guest approaching for a dance, she extracted herself by approaching Tommen for a dance. Dibella's gift was wonderful, but sometimes she'd prefer not to know what people were thinking about doing to her, even if they'd never act on those thoughts. She found it difficult to dance with a highborn 'gentleman' while pretending she didn't know they were fantasising about her body, or imagining ripping her pure white dress away and claiming her. Tommen, however, was a sweetheart and while he was attracted to her, he actually was the perfect gentleman. Her goodbrother made a wonderful shield from unwanted attention.
Sansa was beaming as she was guided around the floor, before Orys deposited her with her family rather than with Joffrey, using the excuse of dancing with Jeyne Poole to leave Sansa in a far more comfortable spot than beside Joffrey the Cunt.
Orys' mocking title for him after his altercation with Sansa had spread, and she had an odd feeling that Sandor was at least partially responsible for that. It was either Sandor or Arya, and she wouldn't place bets on either being the main source. Few would say it to his face, but she suspected many thought it.
Considering the beating he'd received when Robert learnt of Joffrey mocking the fall of Winterfell, she wondered if he'd learnt his lesson. Somehow, she doubted it.
Instead, he sulked at the sideline with nobody paying attention to him, even as his betrothed found herself dancing with Willas and then Harrold Hardyng.
As the night continued, she spotted someone that drew her attention for all the wrong reasons. Or the right reasons, as Dibella reassured her. The girl was standing while the rest of her family, House Hewett from the crest, were sitting and was poorer dressed compared to her sisters.
"Something caught your eye?" Orys asked, returning to her with some tiredness in his tone.
"With Bella leaving your service, you'll need another maid and I think I've found her," Margaery agreed, her eyes on the bastard girl.
There was one simple reason why the girl, who she'd soon learn to be called Falia Flowers, drew her gaze.
Those were the biggest breasts she'd ever seen on a girl her age.
Orys led her over, greeting Lord Humfrey Hewett and praising House Hewett for their deeds in defending the Shield Islands and Reach from Ironborn invaders, helping her catch up to who they were talking to. Orys was good at that, informing her without actually making it clear he was filling her in.
Lord Humfrey was shocked that the King himself recognised both him and his deeds, eager to thank Orys for House Humfrey being gifted Ironborn ships and stolen plunder to make up for the damages the Oakenshield and their ships had taken fighting the Ironborn raiders, and pleased to introduce his many daughters to the King and Queen, even if her probing about Falia drew some embarrassment.
Falia herself was shocked to be given attention by the Blessed King, clearly mistreated by her family given that even now Lord Humfrey was using her as a serving girl for the rest of the family. Margaery frowned out of empathy for Falia's situation, but internally she was celebrating.
After all, such a neglected girl would cling to anyone that gave her attention and affection.
In the end, Humfrey didn't even ask for a price for his daughter to join the serving staff of King's Landing, seeming almost glad to be rid of her.
Margaery beamed at Orys as they made their rounds, their new serving girl by their side, and as he made his way back to the royal seating, he called for attention.
It almost amused her how much some people panicked at the idea of Orys holding court, as if he was going to dissolve another great house or make some world-changing declaration but instead he simply announced that he was legitimising both Bella and Mya as members of House Baratheon of King's Landing, much to their joint shock, declaring Mya the Royal Master of the Horse and Bella the Queen's handmaiden.
It wasn't missed that as members of House Baratheon of King's Landing, they were technically Princess Mya and Bella Baratheon. Taking his seat, he teased Bella with a playful grin as he poked fun at his sister's baffled expression as she thanked him, but seemed lost in thought.
Lord Robert seemed happy, giving Mya a slap on the back that would probably knock most women on their asses, even if Mya remained standing.
"Your Grace-" Bella started, as Orys held out his hand.
"It's Orys to my family, Bella," Orys reminded her playfully.
"Orys," Bella stressed, almost testing the word before she hesitated to continue. "Can I bring my mother to King's Landing?"
Her words were spoken quickly, flustered and embarrassed.
"I wasn't aware your mother was still amongst the living," Orys admitted.
"She convinced me to go with Lady Cersei's messenger, to make a better life for myself," Bella admitted quietly. "She won't need a job or anything, you pay me more than enough for me to take care of her-"
"Bella, relax. You're a member of the Great House of Baratheon. If that's what you want, it's easily done," Orys swore with a small smile, calling for some parchment and a quill. All too quickly, he'd written down his order and it was off to be sent to the Peach in Stoney Sept.
But Orys was a bit of a trickster, clearly. No matter their pasts, two unmarried princesses being declared in the middle of such an event caused an inevitable effect. Bella had no interest in the men sniffing around her, even if she was willing to dance with them, too loyal to Orys, but Mya was a different case as Mychel Redfort found himself having to fight for her attention.
From being a minor Highborn and squire who was deigning to give a bastard girl his affection to a squire fighting for the attention of a Princess who was suddenly surrounded by attractive, more wealthy men. He wanted to see if Mychel's love was true, and how better to test it than to give the boy such a trial.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Joffrey quietly argued with his mother before he stormed away, disgusted at this legitimising. Sansa didn't even notice her betrothed's departure, speaking with some of the highborn men and women of the Stormlands as the future Lady of Storm's End, Robert by his future Gooddaughter's side.
All in all, she giggled and rested her head on Orys' shoulder as they danced, mingled and drank the night away.
Then, when the festivities of the night were finished, they danced some more. Simply… horizontally.
— King Orys Baratheon — Next Morning —
"You remember that you're not my maid anymore, right Bella?" I ask, getting a laugh from her.
"I know, brother, but I also know your preferences so I agreed to help train Falia and Alise," Bella explains as I have my breakfast in my room. Margaery has been whisked away at her Grandmother's request, and I have some time before the events for today start. It's the Day of the Smith, and it's entirely focused on me, unsurprisingly. "Lady Margaery agreed to me splitting my time between her and you."
My eyes flicker over to my two new serving girls. Alise, Trant's victim, gives me a shy smile from behind Bella and Falia gives me a proper curtsy. She might be a bastard but she's a Highborn one and knows her manners. Taking Alise as my maid makes me look better that I'm taking responsibility for the actions of the Kingsguard who wronged her, and as Alise's 'saviour' her loyalty to me will be unshakable.
"Ah, you have my thanks," I praised, looking over my schedule for today. Gods, I would fist fight a giant for just a day of free time.
Tyrion, Marenzo and the Vale delegation have requested my time. The Vale highborn can wait, because they already know that the Crownlands, Stormlands and Riverlands are gathering their banners to march to the North and that I plan to make a stop in the Vale to settle the Lysa situation.
As long as I meet with them before we march, they'll be satisfied. Marenzo, I can't afford to delay because he's representing both Braavos and the Iron Bank.
Work, work, work.
As I finish my breakfast and dressing, I head to the council room where my newest Council member is waiting for me.
It doesn't take long to work out where Arianne got her style from as I spot Mellario, once again barely dressed. I wonder if it's Dornish or Norvoshi style to leave such vast cleavage on display.
"Good morning, Your Grace," Mellario greets softly with a deep bow. "You called for me?"
"I have a meeting with Marenzo before the Day of the Smith celebrations begin. I'd like your assistance, as my Master of Foreign Affairs," I explain.
"I am at your call, Your Grace. Your desires are my commands," Mellario agrees. "The crown owes the Iron Bank one and a half million gold dragons, yes?"
"That's right. Littlefinger took out several sizable loans that were combined into a single massive loan," I explain with a tired sigh.
"If I may, Your Grace. The Iron Bank always gets its due, but as large a sum as that may be, it's frankly nothing to the Iron Bank," Mellario starts, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And Marenzo is not who they would usually send to collect on a debt. He's too well connected to be playing debt collector."
"I thought as much. It did seem odd to have the Sealord's son come in person, even if he's angling to have his father healed," I agree with a frown.
"It's more than that. He's a Keyholder. They don't send a keyholder to remind debtors of what they owe. If they've sent him, they're expecting a negotiation that goes beyond a repayment plan," Mellario continues. "You already know that Qohor sees your Valyrian steel as a threat, but the other cities see it as an opportunity. Braavos is infamous amongst the cities for their anti-slavery and their… forceful enforcement of it in Pentos. Your declaration during the Day of the Warrior has far further-reaching consequences that you may have understood. I suspect we'll see Braavos aiding slaves in escaping to Westeros in the coming years. I doubt he'll bring it up in this meeting, as your declaration caught him by surprise, as it did everyone, but it shows that you're willing to look beyond your Seven Kingdoms and this is both exciting and worrying for all the Free Cities."
"How will Norvos take it?" I ask, getting a quiet laugh.
"For now? Indifferently. They may practice slavery, but few in Norvos would take their slaves to the Seven Kingdoms, and we are far enough east that reaching the coastal cities is not easy for a runaway slave," Mellario explains. "I was sent to test the waters for trade between your Kingdoms and Norvos, which I've discussed with Lord Tywin since as there is opportunity for profit. As long as you do not march on the Free Cities to enforce this anti-slavery law, the Bearded Priests won't care for what happens here. It's the coastal slaver cities that will see this as a bigger threat, Lys, Tyrosh, Myr."
Because they'll need to check every ship headed our way for stowaway slaves once word reaches them.
"So, what do you think Marenzo really wants?" I ask, taking a seat at the head of the table. Instead of sitting at her own seat, she stands beside me.
"To break Qohor's monopoly on Valyrian steel by getting Braavos in on it. It's worth more than your debt, because a single piece of custom-made Valyrian steel could cost hundreds of thousands. Especially a piece made by a divine-blessed King," Mellario replies. "What you do is far beyond the mere reforging of Qohor, and the Iron Bank wants to get their cut."
"So, what should I do?" I ask, making her smile.
"Negotiate for the Iron Bank to handle Valyrian steel commissions in Essos, while setting a limit on how many pieces you are willing to make each year," Mellario answers. "Because Qohor won't ignore you, but this will put Braavos and the Iron Bank directly between you and them. Braavos will deal with the worst that the slaver cities can do because it benefits them to defend you. Don't forget his father, he plays tough but the Sealord's sickness is well-known and serious. Without aid, he won't live for another five years. Marenzo doesn't want to show his concern, but as long as this negotiation succeeds, resulting in his father being healed, he'll push for it to the other Keyholders."
Hmm. Using Braavos and Pentos as a shield against the interference of the rest of the Free Cities does appeal to me.
"It's barely morning and already I want to be back in bed," I laugh, running a hand through my hair. "You're attending the meeting with me, Mellario."
"Of course, Your Grace," Mellario agrees easily as I rise and head for the meeting room. I expected Marenzo to pull a power play by arriving after me, but despite me arriving shortly before the meeting time, he's already here. Her words of his concern for his father are fresh in my mind, and I understand why. The title of Sealord isn't inherited. He won't lose his wealth, but much of his power will fade with his father. Even if he isn't close to his family, his father's death would still be a problem for him.
"Good Morning, Your Grace," Marenzo greets, toasting me with a goblet of wine. Drinking already?
"Good Morning, Marenzo. My apologies for the early hour of our meeting, my time is in short supply at the moment," I say, taking a seat opposite him, Barristan and Balon taking their places behind me. "You've met Lady Mellario. She's graciously accepted a position on my council as my Master of Foreign Affairs. The isolationist policies of my realm is something I want to change going forward. We shouldn't only look east when we want a loan, after all."
"It's a pleasure to see a fellow child of Essos rise to such a position," Marenzo praises, an easy smile on his lips as Mellario sits beside me. "Speaking as both the son of the Sealord and a Keyholder of the Iron Bank, it would thrill me and the people I represent to see the Seven Kingdoms do proper business with Essos. The Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities have much to offer one another, and the Narrow Sea is… well, narrow."
"Narrower still with the Ironborn no longer plaguing it," I point out, reminding him that the Free Cities merchants won't have to fear the Ironborn raiders going forward.
"Quite right! Many a merchant will breathe easy and raise a flagon in your name as their travels become safer," Marenzo agrees. "Truly, they've been a blight upon the seas for many long centuries, and your efforts in ending their piracy will be told by the bards for just as long."
Or, without the bullshit 'your Kingdom has been raiding our seas for centuries and your people have done nothing about it'.
He's good. Flattering me with one side while reminding me that the Ironborn were our problem to begin with. They're part of the Seven Kingdoms, and we've done nothing to rein them in.
"My predecessors gave them too much slack, but their culture doesn't permit their actions. Law and order take priority over such things," I agree. "It is my greatest desire to leave the Seven Kingdoms a better place than I found it, and they were a blemish on our honour that needed correction. But, we didn't come here to discuss Ironborn reavers, believe me I've done that enough of late. We've come here to discuss something that matters far more. Gold."
"All too true," Marenzo laughs. Before he can speak, I continue.
"You'll be pleased to note that with the end of Littlefinger's corruption, the Seven Kingdoms economy is recovering under the watchful eye of my lord grandfather, Tywin Lannister. While I must admit we do not have the entire sum in our treasury, I can assure you that we are well on our way to pay back the entire amount, with the agreed upon interest, within the next five years," I explain, and the reaction is instant. The tiny movements on his face, the way he stiffens just for a moment so short I would miss it with a single blink. He didn't expect that and he's not happy to hear it.
"Truly? Littlefinger's corruption must have run deep if he was such a bottomless pit, sucking in all the gold of the Kingdoms. Another glorious deed, in ending his greed. Some greed is good, greed is what motivates men to be great, but there is such a thing as too much," Marenzo replies, taking a sip of his drink to delay things.
The Iron Bank doesn't want me paying them back, because then they have no leverage over me.
"But if I may be so bold, why pay back what you could have forgiven?" Marenzo asks, his laidback mask slipping off as he sits up straighter. "One and a half million gold could do much for the development of King's Landing, something you've shown considerable interest in. I've been following your reforms of the brothels with interest. It is good to see another land take such a forward thinking approach to the sex trade."
"Braavos is, undeniably, an inspiration for those reforms. The trade will always exist, I merely ensured that it was practiced safely for both clients and those plying it," I agree, praising his land right back. "But the Iron Bank is not known for forgiving debts. Let us speak plainly, what interests you so much that you'd forgive such a substantial debt for it?"
"Ah, but you ask questions you already have the answer to. As Lady Mellario has no doubt told you, our interest is in your craftsmanship. What better day than the Day of the Smith to discuss such a trade?" Marenzo muses. "You know Qohor will not permit such a threat to their trade, and more importantly their religion. You also know our rotund friend Kraznys is here on their request. The Iron Bank has a great interest in disrupting their trade, especially as it is fuelled by blood sacrifices, but there will always be a call for more Valyrian steel. We simply wish to provide a greater product to our Qohor friends."
"There's more to it than that," Mellario adds, giving him a discerning look and narrowed eyes. "Qohor is the trade terminus for almost all overland trading that goes further east. Braavos wants to weaken them to force them into a similar position as Pentos, a vassal city. The trade flowing in and out of Qohor is worth hundreds of millions, in the long run."
Marenzo goes quiet, eyes narrowing before he relaxes.
"That isn't my father's desire, my Lady," Marenzo reassures her before he smirks. "It is mine. But to do so, I must first become the Sealord. The Keyholders and Magisters will vote once my father passes away, something I don't intend to happen anytime soon, and I wish to show them that my leadership will lead Braavos to a new era of prosperity and power."
"And I am the way you wish to do that," I finish. "You can't risk your father dying, because the vote would happen before you could gather the power and influence needed."
"Make no mistake, I love my father. But yes, Sealords rule for life. If another younger man becomes the Sealord, I will be an old man before they pass naturally," Marenzo admits. "Of course, not many Sealords live to such an age but I can't take that risk. And yes, the Seven Kingdoms are my project to prove to the other Keyholders of my talent. Your profit is my profit, in more ways than one. Rumours of the Seven Faced God's growing activity have even reached the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea. Work with me, and we'll bring the Seven Kingdoms and Braavos into a new age of prosperity. I intend to leave Braavos a better place than I found it, as well. When the Mother heals our Sealord, you'll find many converts in Braavos. A foothold in Essos for the faith."
Despite us discarding the sugar-coated words, he's becoming more verbose. He's nervous. He's talking faster, his smile less certain.
"And the first step to that is to get the Iron Bank access to my Valyrian smithing," I respond with a thoughtful look. "And yet, if this venture fails, you'll have cost the Iron Bank one and a half million gold dragons."
"Which will be my problem, not yours. The Iron Bank's word is as solid as our coin. Once we make an agreement that forgives your debt, the debt is forgiven. If it fails, the Keyholders will turn their displeasure upon me, not you. A banker's word, once broken, will break the bank as well. Nobody would trust us or our gold if we went back on our agreements," Marenzo counters, and Mellario nods in agreement.
"He speaks the truth, Your Grace. The Iron Bank does not break their word or agreements," Mellario confirms. I take a sip of my own drink, thinking to myself.
"I am willing to allow the Iron Bank to handle my Valyrian commissions throughout Essos, but I can't tell my own subjects to go to Braavos to commission me to make something," I finally say, watching him relax. "As such, I have an offer for you, Marenzo. I want to open a Royal Bank here in King's Landing, with the aid of the Iron Bank, with two of the ten Keyholders for it being Iron Bank Keyholders. The Royal Bank will handle the commissions for the Seven Kingdoms, the Iron Bank will handle Essos."
In other words, they get a twenty percent share in the Royal Bank and gain far more influence in the Seven Kingdoms. Only the greatest houses and the crown itself can deal with the Iron Bank due to its location, but a Royal Bank?
I'm offering them access to every house in the Seven Kingdoms.
"As you said, the development of my realm is of incredible interest to me. As part of this new alliance, I will take three commissions from the Iron Bank, free of charge, and craft a smaller chalice of the Mother for the Sept-Beyond-The-Sea," I continue, seeing him musing it over. It's far more than he came here for, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Finally, his smile regains the easygoing look as he slouches once more, the picture of smug, relaxation.
"I do believe we are going to be very good friends, Your Grace," Marenzo agrees with a bow. "Perhaps the Black Pearl could assist with your reforms? She's my retainer but I'd happily loan her out to you, for free, as a sign of our newfound friendship."
I agree easily, as we haggle the exact details of this. We're both taking a big chance here, as he makes agreements far beyond what the other Keyholders are expecting and as I invite the Iron Bank further into the realm, but we also both have so much to gain from this.
Zenithar is pleased by this, his domain of trade aiding the negotiations, and when it finally comes to an end, as he can't fully agree to everything without sending ravens home, I feel proud, accomplished… and so fucking tired as I collapse the moment I'm out of his sight, before making my way towards my quarters to relax and get ready for the rest of the day.
"I must say, you continue to surprise, Your Grace," Mellario praises as she thinks through the long-term consequences of this. I'll need to inform Grandfather soon as well, as this very much falls into his area of expertise and responsibilities. "I believe the Iron Bank will accept your offer, and Marenzo is bound to be assigned to this new bank to monitor his project."
"He's useful. I want you to look into the key figures of Braavos. We're going to be intertwined with them soon, and I need to know everything there is to know about them," I order, getting a deep bow from her. Once again, I swear she only bows instead of curtsying so she can show off her breasts.
"As you command, Your Grace. The Seven Kingdoms have no true allies, simply trading partners. It would be my honour to help you forge the first true alliance beyond your shores," Mellario agrees. "If I may be so bold, do you intend to make a Master of Faith position?"
"Most likely, yes. The Faith has long wanted to spread beyond its current area of influence. If we can truly gain a foothold in Braavos, it'll need far more subtlety and diplomacy than the Most Devout usually show," I agree. "Gods, this is going to be stressful. Worthwhile, but stressful."
"I shall do all in my power to help relieve that stress, Your Grace," Mellario purrs, having not flirted enough during the meeting and needing to remind me that she's Arianne's mother.
"Be careful what you offer, Lady Mellario, before your silver tongue is put to other uses," I warn playfully, my eyes roaming her body. Rather than look put off, she simply smiles back with a sultry look. "How long do I have until I'm expected at the grounds for the Day of the Smith?"
"Not long," Mellario admits. "But long enough for you to… destress after such an important meeting, Your Grace."
As I stare at her, I pause in consideration. Pros? Margaery has made it clear she doesn't mind if I don't make bastards and I don't keep liaisons secret. It would also be really amusing to bed Arianne's mother. She looks amazing. Cons? She's the wife of Doran, Prince of Dorne, estranged or not.
"Then perhaps I have time to celebrate, after such a momentous meeting," I decide, as Dibella cheers me on.
I don't like Doran that much.
— Bonus Scene — Lysa Arryn
Freed from the cage her uncle had tried to force her into, she had only one course of action. The Eyrie was full of traitors, cowards and schemers who sought to have her locked away, to take advantage of her Sweetrobin.
The whispers in her mind only confirmed what she already knew, she had to cleanse them. She had to dispose of those who had turned on her.
In truth, her escape was a blur. She didn't remember how she'd found herself free of the room she'd been imprisoned in 'for her own good', but that was due to the substances the Maester had been plying her with to keep her mind blurred. Nor did she remember how she found herself at the Moondoor, watching those guilty of treason being thrown through by her loyal knights.
And yet, as the last of the fools who'd sided with her uncle were tossed through the door, she found herself looking at the men and women loyal to her, wondering what they were thinking. Would they turn on her too?
She couldn't trust them. Not even Sweetrobin. No, trust was for fools. She was no fool. She saw their schemes, she saw their plans. They'd kill her if she gave them the chance.
She needed to protect herself. She- why was she wearing black armour? And such revealing armour as well, a hole cut out to show her cleavage?
Wait, what was a dark seducer?
…and whose blood was she coated in?