Wives, money, and prestige!

Posted on Mon Feb 8th, 2021 @ 10:26pm by Ser Stevron Velaryon & Lord Jonah Tully

Mission: The Great Council
Location: The Red Keep, Kings Landing

It was nothing imposing. A small villa on the Street of Silk. It had its own wall, a solid steel-studded oak gate, a stable, and servants' quarters suited for the staff and guards Jon had brought with him. The house was nearly full as it stood. He had brought his squire with him, three of his house knights who wanted to participate in the tourney, their squires, and a dozen men at arms. Then there was the villa's staff, the cook, the cleaner, and the messenger boy.

They had ridden for a few weeks to get here, not wasting more than a day after the raven sent word to the Twins that the king had passed. Jon had felt no real love for the old king. He never got along with the knights from the Vale, the stuffy gits. But he was glad he had finally arrived late last night. This morning he was washed when the messenger boy walked into the kitchen where Jon was breaking his fast.

"Pardons m'lord." The young boy said, "But there's a man out there from the Red Keeps. Says Lord Velaryon requests you see him m'lord."

Jon nodded, "Very good boy. Tell the messenger I'll arrive shortly and have my squire ready the horses."

"Yes m'lord." And with that the boy disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Jon to finish his fresh bread and bacon.

Near an hour later Jon rode up to the gates of the Red Keep with Ser Joffrey the Green and their two squires. After explaining why they came the guards allowed them entry and directed them to the courtyard where Lord Velaryon should be able to receive them.

Stevron Velaryon stood, looking very relaxed, in the center of the courtyard. His wavy blonde hair billowing in the evening breeze. He turned and smiled at the approaching figures. “The Lord of the Crossing.” He announced, his smile growing. “How was your journey?” He asked moving closer to the guests.

"Lord Stevron." Jon replied in greeting, handing the reigns to his squire before approaching the Master of Ships with extended hand. The riverman had a smile on his face from seeing an old friend again after many a year. "Not too bad. May I introduce my captain of the guard, Ser Joffrey the Green? Joffrey, this is Ser Stevron Velaryon, Master of Ships to the King. And the fool who let me sail back to Westeros for the few coppers I had left in my pouch when I was in Essos."

“I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you when you came into the city.” Stevron pushed his blonde hair from his face. “I was gathering my mother and my nephew from the docks.” He added. “I wanted to be sure I saw you before we go into mourning tomorrow. Wine?” He asked.

"Family comes first." Jon said, waiving tit all away. "Not sure I'll do much mourning, but I will happily take a cup of wine." Jon then turned to his captain, "Joff, we won't be long." The attended knight nodded silently and turned to the squires.

Ron turned to a small easily overlooked table near where he stood. He poured a bright red wine from a pitcher into two goblets and turned, handing one to Jon. “The finest Arbour Red from the King's own stores.” He announced.

Taking the goblet, Jon took in the scent. "Only the best for the king." He raised it up in a toast, "May the Stranger help him find his way."

“And may the Crone helps us make the right decision at the Great Council.” Stevron took a long sip. “So tell me, how are affairs at the Crossing?”

He took a long pull from the goblet, emptying for a solid third before placing it on the table. "Things have been going well, except for increasing tensions with the crannogmen. Those stinky swampdwellers have been raiding trade caravans for the last few moons. And I cannot do anything about it."

It was all Stevron could do not to smile about the swampdweller comment. He knew his old friend had a serious concern in this. “There’s no support for you from Riverrun?”

"It's not Riverrun who's help I need. Both Greywater Watch and Winterfell have said they're working to stop the attacks. But the attacks continue. I control the lands upto the Neck, but it's in those swamps that half the caravans are attacked. In the last year alone a fifth less groups have travelled to the North." Jon's frustration was old and well worn. He had been fighting this issue for several years now. He had even asked permission to take a group of his men into the Neck. House Reed had warned it would attack any southern force marching into the swamps without the King's leave.

"I can speak to Lord Sunderland if you think word from the Hand of the King would help?" Ron drank from his goblet again.He wasn't sure what else he could offer. In truth, he never found himself to be apt in diplomacy or anything political. The only reason he was serving as Master of Ships was because his brother was dead and the King commanded it.

"It most certainly cannot make it worse. You'd think that being a Tully would mean something to the Starks, but the King in the North seems to have forgotten their old friends." Jon drained the goblet before letting out a long sigh. "So, how has being on the Small Council been for you? My sympathies for the loss of your brother too."

“Thank you.” Stevron emptied his own goblet. He reached for the pitcher and refilled both empty goblets. “The council is fine. But a political mind is not hereditary. I much prefer spending my time in the field or one the seas. The Small Council somehow makes me feel... small.”

Jon nodded in agreement. "Life as a soldier was much easier. I've the mind for politics, but not the stomach. I can't do the two-tongued speak you need to be successful in this arena. I'd much rather call a fish a fish and get the deal done rather than speak in some kind of undecipherable code of compliments, insults, and false promises."

"Aye," Stevron handed the goblet back to his friend. "Well, I expect I'll soon be free of it." He drew a long sip of wine. "If my mother could have her way, shed run all the kingdoms and the council by herself." He laughed a belly laugh at his own trauma with his mother.

"Westeros does have a history of cunning old women ruling through their children." Jon noted with a grin, "Though I don't imagine old Lady Velaryon being quite the puppet master over the likes of you."

"That only because she doesn't like me very much." Stevron laughed deeply and swallowed back the rest of his nearly full goblet. "Her faith is put entirely in my nephews, just as it was in my brother before his death."

"I'm curious where you'll put your faith at the Great Council?" Stevron poured himself yet another goblet of wine.

Jon took a pull before answering, "My vote would go the Tully's from Riverrun. I can hardly vote against my liege. Unless they do not offer themselves up as King. Then... I wouldn't know."

"I've heard whispered calls of dissolution from some of the parties I'v greeted. Many who think the time of the elective monarch are past and we should return to the old ways." Ron smirked. "Mother thinks it should be us."

Jon kept his pokerface as he drank half his goblet. He set the pewter cup down and nodded. "I don't disagree with the idea of abolishing the elective monarchy, and installing a more permanent family. It worked for the Targaryans, and on smaller scales it has worked all across Westeros." He then gave Stevron a long look, "But it might not be the best to seat the blood of Valyria back on that particular horse. You lot are far too pretty to be truly trusted."

A smile traced the Velaryon’s lips as he swished his blond hair around playfully.“Far too useful elsewhere as well.” He laughed and took a sip from his goblet.

"Now if you had a sister, or even a niece I could marry. Then I might have voted to put that nephew of yours on the throne." Jon emptied the goblet and set it down again. "But old Lady Velaryon only has sons, and your brother had to produce an heir instead of a daughter didn't he?"

Ron filled his friends cup. “Of course mother will offer the many men in the family as proof of a strong bloodline, and ability to produce heirs.” He shook his head. “And what makes you think I’d let you marry any sister or niece of mine?” Set Stevron guffawed. “I’m sure I have a bastard daughter somewhere that’s well suited to the likes of you.”

"Because if you had a niece or sister, you'd want her as far away from you as possible, and I'm about as far north as these Kingdoms go." Jon laughed and emptied his goblet. "But I will not take your cast-offs. If they're from you, they're far too ugly for my taste!"

"I've gone from far too pretty to far too ugly in a matter of a few moments!." The now clearly drunken voice of Stevron resounded off the stone walls around them, he laughed. "It's a wonder your charms haven't captured you a match as of yet."

"It's your family that's too pretty, but you personally are uglier than the dogs in my kennel." Jon proclaimed as he took the pitcher and poured them both a proper measure again. "I've been given offers. Some landed knight from down south wanted me to marry his second daughter. Even bloody Buckwell's offered me their sixth daughter. She was a maiden of twelve at the time!" Jon drank half his goblet. "Now I know the Twins have a taint on them from the fucking Freys. But my family has been nothing but honourable for near a century. And yet I still get almost insulted like that." His good humour had disappeared like the first snowdrifts at the end of summer. "Maybe I'll take one of those bastards of yours after all."

"Maybe you won't have to." Stevron said, looking hopeful. "Perhaps we will both find wives over a fat king's body." He poured more wine while laughing.

"Maybe." Jon agreed and took the goblet and drank a solid gulp. "Maybe I'll nice with the Martells, I heard they were in the city. Or the Hightower girl?"

"The Martells! Now there's a match. The Dornish never have a shortage of offspring, and they do make the finest women the kingdoms ever laid eyes on." Stevron smirked, "Maybe they have two and we"ll be brothers by law."

"That alone should make me reconsider marrying anyone at all, the chance I'd be related to you!" Jon scoffed. "Either way, we need a wives, money, and prestige!"

“You’ve said it!” Stevron laughed.