Lord Roboute Tyrell

- 267 AC -

The air in Casterly Rock was sharp with salt and strategy. It had been Aerys's idea for the court to visit. Rumours had spread throughout King's Landing that Lord Tytos Lannister was on his deathbed — sickly, wasting away, incapable of command. Aerys, ever suspicious and self-interested, had encouraged the move to Lannisport under the pretext of concern. In truth, Aerys had pushed for the court's visit because of Joanna Lannister. He had lusted after her for years, and Rhaella, in moments of private misery, had spoken too much of her beauty and grace. Now, Aerys cloaked his obsession in rumours of Tytos's decline — whispers that he was deathly ill and incapable. But those whispers were wrong. Tytos Lannister, far from dying, had lost weight again and grown unexpectedly active, walking the cliffs and attending court with a flicker of the presence he'd long buried.

 It wasn't strength born of pride — it was something else. And Tywin wasn't happy about it.

Tywin Lannister stood in his solar. Before him lay open a leather-bound folder filled with correspondence. At the top: letters exchanged between Lord Titus Peake, Lord Leyton Hightower and himself. Seals broken, parchment smoothed. The ink hadn't even dried on the newest one when Tywin turned to the window, his face a mask carved in stone. Something was brewing. 

It had all been planned. Peake and Hightower had done their part. The discontent within the Reach had festered since Roboute Tyrell's rise. Lords like Hightower, Florent, Oakheart, and Redwyne had all been stirred, their ambitions dashed by Tyrell's brutal precision and reforms. Peake, a man once beaten down, had seen an opportunity, as did all the others who had been approached and who weren't happy with the new reforms. An offer of land, keeps, and even gold to Tywin and Casterly Rock in exchange for assistance — knights and men-at-arms to bleed the Reach dry and support their cause, should it truly come to that. 

Tywin had agreed. Coldly, logically. He demanded his price — key strategic castles, a share of the ports now under Tyrell control, and, most of all, the right to decide the political makeup of the post-Tyrell Reach. It was bold. Hightower and their collaborators were desperate enough to accept it.

But now came the critical moment: convincing the King.

.

Tywin entered the King's chamber, which he occupied while they were at the Rock, with calculated restraint. It was quiet, too quiet. The silence of a room that had already made up its mind and was planning something. It unnerved Tywin. Some things were no longer in his control, and he abhorred that. 

King Aerys II sat upon his chair, long fingers twitching atop the armrests. His crown tilted just slightly on his head, like it no longer knew where it belonged.

Tywin bowed.

"Your Grace," he began with respectful certainty. "The Reach burns with division. House Tyrell's hold is not unshakable. There is an opportunity."

Aerys said nothing. He picked at a splinter on his throne's armrest.

"Lord Peake and others have come forward. With the right push, the Reach could be returned to a more loyal order. We could gain—"

"No."

The word was soft. Final. It did not match the growing madness in his eyes.

"Your Grace..."

"I said no."

Tywin stared, confused but composed. This was not new either. 

"This would bring wealth. Power. Half the Reach's breadbasket. And it would weaken—"

"I do not want to hear another word about rebellion, Tywin," Aerys snapped, voice rising into a shriek. "You presume too much! You bring treason to my feet and expect applause?!"

Aerys had his own reasons, of course, and it had nothing to do with being a good king. 

Tywin clenched his jaw. He had known Aerys was changing — becoming more erratic, more paranoid — but this was not madness. This was deliberate.

"Very well," Tywin said coldly. "I will speak of it no more."

He bowed again. The King did not dismiss him, nor acknowledge him further.

As Tywin turned and stepped toward the doors, he paused. His eyes landed, briefly, on the King's writing desk.

There, resting like a whisper too loud, were three items.

— A sealed letter bearing the sigil of House Tarbeck.

— A small ornate box wrapped in Dornish silk, opened to reveal gifts from young Lord Tarbeck and Roboute Tyrell — a token of goodwill.

— And a folded parchment, stained with red wax and one word in bold strokes:

Joanna.

Tywin's steps slowed. But he said nothing. He left in silence.

Outside, in the cold dusk of the courtyard, his breath fogged the air like smoke.

He didn't know what Aerys had planned.

But he knew now — something far greater was about to happen.

.

He made his way back to his solar and thought about it. Tarbeck... bloody Tarbeck. That name he thought he had extinguished years ago had returned a few weeks after his marriage. His anger grew thinking about it. Tytos Lannister, the Laughing Lion of all people, was the one to do it. 

It had been Tytos, years earlier, who ensured the survival of the Tarbeck heir — a child barely three when his House was destroyed. Or so Tywin thought. In truth, it was different. Roboute had approached Tytos Lannister at Tywin and Joanna's wedding, used his pathetic situation of not even being invited to his son's wedding and turned the ageing lord from humiliation toward renewal, and convinced him to grant the young Tarbeck boy the right to return to Tarbeck Hall. Roboute even promised to 'finance' the project. And initially, he did some of the financing. 

But later on, it was Tytos who financed most of the rebuilding under the guise of a diplomatic gesture, with Reach assistance masking the cost. Now, the revived Tarbeck Hall under the official rule of the young Tarbeck child sent regular tributes, gifts, and taxes, not to Highgarden, but to King Aerys himself. Aerys relished this private reward. It pleased him and fed his delusions, just as Roboute knew it would. 

Why would Roboute spend money on renovating Tarbeck Hall and teaching the young Tarbeck heir? Why would he go out of his way to do something like that when he was in the process of pushing the reforms in the Reach? 

In a way, it was all part of his step-by-step plan on how to dismantle the Westerlands and make the one man who could threaten him the most, into a more or less 'useless' bystander. Tywin Lannister could, now that he was Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock in all but name, threaten the Reach more than anyone else. He had the King's ear, and together, they could muster the armies of Westeros to simply take what they wanted of the Reach. But that wouldn't happen. 

Two people, no one would think about when asked about the most influential figures in Westeros, were the pebbles that Roboute used to break Tywin's iron control and threat. Those people were Rhaella Targaryen and Joanna Lannister. 

With but one glance during the wedding of Tywin and Joanna, Roboute had understood the dynamic revolving around Aerys. His lust for Joanna, the hateful look from Tywin when he saw it, the pained, beaten look from Rhaella... One evening, meant for Tywin to test Roboute's mettle, had given rise to a big roadblock in his quest for Westerland dominance and power. 

Roboute used the growing fixation of Aerys towards Joanna Lannister. Rhaella had spoken of her — too much and too sweetly over the years. In Aerys's mind, Roboute had brought her to him once. Perhaps he would do so again.

Roboute had gained a small area of influence in the Westerlands, even if unofficially. But sometimes the smallest things could bring about the biggest changes. 

Tywin shook his head and confirmed the movement and mobilisation of troops. He would do what was best for his House and for their legacy. 

.

.

Roboute stood at his desk in the solar of Macragge, the heavy scent of parchment and wax lingering around him. Outside, the midday sun painted the newly rebuilt martial arenas and the improved large forge with gold, but Roboute's eyes remained on the page. 

He read in silence. The first letter came from Tyrosh. The others were from his settlements in the Stepstones. Together, they formed a pattern.

The Free Cities had finally begun to act.

He had been waiting for it, waiting for the moment when Myr, Lys, or Volantis would stop gnashing their teeth in private and make a move. It had taken a bit longer than he had calculated, but it came now, precisely when the Civil Service System had reached critical traction in the Reach. That timing was not coincidental. It was strategic. Predictable.

The tone of the messages was controlled but urgent. Lyseni pirates who used to have their places on the Stepstones were now back to take back what was theirs. Trade ships were burned, and the pirates fled when the Reach ships arrived. Patrols reported sightings of horses and sellsword companies from east of the Disputed Lands. 

No declarations, no banners. Just the chaos of plausible deniability. Roboute set the letters down and looked out over the map he had created of the Reach and its colonies in Essos. For now, it was only parts of the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands, as well as Tyrosh, but it would surely grow. But they were trying to take it away. To make him give things up and profit from the gold and resources he pumped into recreating Tyrosh to suit his wishes. 

"So it starts," he said softly.

He turned, already issuing instructions to his aides before the candle beside the scroll had finished burning its length. He would leave with Paxter and some of their ships to deal with the pirates, and he would lead a campaign against the sellswords arriving from the east, from Volantis, no doubt. He couldn't be away too long, though, as there was unrest in the Reach as well. 

Roboute walked out of his solar and to the outside, where Randyll and Mathis were talking, while they oversaw the training of the newest batch of Reach children. For now, there were not many young lords among them. Their parents were too scared and worried about the Civil Service System reforms. The smallfolk were more than happy, though. They gladly sent their children to Macragge, as it was a simple and easy way to have them fed and taught, while also securing them a way to earn money. They didn't quite understand what they would have to go through and what they would become once their training and teachings had been completed.

Roboute approached the two. 

"Did you get news?" Mathis asked. 

"I did. The Free Cities campaign is a go. I'll go there personally and take Paxter with me. I will need you two to handle the final parts of the reform here. Remember about the houses that are unwelcoming and secure our positions. If they choose to go against this, the time would be now. So be alert," Roboute said. 

"Understood. Should I reposition the Ist Legion?" Randyll asked. 

"Yes. Have the Ist move north to support the Adepta Sororitas, just in case. Mathis, you can keep the IInd where it is. I'll probably be out for a month or so. I am to be informed should something serious happen."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Then I'll leave you two to it. Have Ashford and Crane be informed as well."

"As you wish. Good luck, my Lord."

And so, Roboute took 500 Ultramarines, as he had done years earlier, and travelled to the Stepstones, together with Paxter. The years had changed all of them and made them true warriors and officials. None of Roboute's men were one-trick ponies. It seemed that the quest would turn out the same way it did in the past, during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. 

However, as they soon find out, that would not be the case.