Author's Note:
Hey guys, this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but im planning to wrap up the western front soon, within a couple of chapters at most, and truly get the ball rolling on the war, since there are still more unseen variables left to appear, wink wink, nudge nudge.
Once the West's story has concluded and the Ironborn angle has been further fleshed out, i will likely write a couple of more mundane chapters back north with Alys and the Stark household, if you remember, Alaric and Alys now have twin newborns: the eldest and first crown prince in three centuries, Prince Torrhen Stark. Named for Alaric's protector and father figure, along with Alys' brother who has lost an arm in Alaric's service. Along with his younger twin sister, Princess Sarra Stark, named for a fierce she-wolf of the past. (Their birth was in the last Alys chapter)
[The Westerlands, Lannisport, 6th Moon, 299 AC]
The envoys from Lannisport stopped twenty paces from Alaric and dismounted beneath a white banner.
Lucion recognized the man leading them before he gave his name. Ser Tymond Lannister had been nearing forty when Lucion was still a boy trailing after his mother through Lannisport, and the years since had thickened his waist and silvered what remained of his hair. He had never been much of a warrior. His talents lay in ships, warehouses and merchants, which made him a better choice for what had brought him outside the city than any knight eager to prove his courage.
Tymond bowed first to Alaric, though his eyes shifted toward Lucion almost immediately.
"Your Grace, I speak for the Lannisters of Lannisport, several of the principal guilds, and those presently responsible for keeping order inside the walls. We know what happened at Oxcross, and we know Lord Tywin has been taken. No one within the city is eager to discover how much of Lannisport must burn before either side admits those facts have already decided the military question."
Alaric sat quietly upon his horse while Harald remained beside him, one hand resting near his sword. Daven Blackwood stood on his other side, with Robb, Jon and Dorren gathered close enough to hear. Shadow had settled beside Dorren's horse while Tempest and Cinder watched the envoys from near Alaric, their presence drawing more nervous glances than the armed men did. Smalljon and Derrick Umber waited behind them with Harlon, Osric, Roddy Dustin, Torrhen Karstark and the Snow brothers, unusually quiet now that the conversation actually mattered.
Alaric looked toward Lucion. "You know the city better than I do. Hear them."
There had been a time, scarcely more than a week ago, when Lucion would have argued, but now, he simply nudged his horse forward.
Tymond noticed that too.
"I assume you came prepared to offer terms," Lucion said. "If you expected us to ride away because the city walls look impressive from a distance, you have wasted your morning."
"We expected nothing of the sort." Tymond clasped his hands before him and took a moment before continuing. "The gates can be opened peacefully. The city watch will remain at its posts to prevent looting and disorder, though we will accept northern officers alongside our own for as long as your army remains nearby. Military stores belonging to the city can be surrendered, and no ships will carry arms, food, or fighting men to Casterly Rock without your permission. In exchange, there will be no sack, no general seizure of private property, and no attempt to strip our branch of its holdings merely because we share Lord Tywin's name."
Lucion studied him. "That is a good beginning, though you have conveniently left out hostages and payment."
One of the younger envoys shifted uneasily, but Tymond only nodded. "We expected both. We would rather argue over gold than tally the amount of dead."
"The city will provide hostages from the leading families until matters are settled. Not children if it can be avoided, and I have no interest in filling a camp with half the noble sons of Lannisport. Men of suitable rank will do. As for payment, there will be an indemnity, but not one large enough to cripple the harbor."
Tymond frowned. "You speak as though you expect the city to continue making money for you."
"I expect the city to continue making money for itself. That is rather the point. If we empty every vault and warehouse before leaving, the city stops trading, merchants stop paying duties, sailors stop receiving wages, and within a year everyone is poorer except the men who stole the gold. I have spent enough time listening to his grace complain about ruined fields to know he would find a ruined port equally useless."
A faint sound came from Smalljon behind him, something between amusement and disbelief. Lucion ignored it.
Tymond looked past him toward Alaric. "And Ser Lucion speaks with your authority in this?"
Alaric answered without delay. "He does."
Tymond bowed his head toward him this time. "Then we can continue."
The negotiation lasted the better part of an hour.
Lannisport would retain its watch, though the gates, harbor, and principal armories would be inspected and temporarily placed under joint supervision. Merchant property would remain untouched unless there was evidence it belonged directly to the war effort. Northern soldiers caught stealing would face punishment from their own officers, while Westermen attempting to smuggle arms toward Casterly Rock would be treated as enemies. The cadet Lannisters would give several adult hostages, pay a substantial but survivable indemnity, and publicly declare that no further troops would be raised for Joffrey or Casterly Rock while Tywin remained captive.
That final point took longer.
Tymond's mouth tightened when Lucion insisted upon it. "Casterly Rock has already ordered us to close our gates and prepare for siege. Your father sent the instruction himself, acting as castellan."
Lucion felt the words in his stomach before he allowed them to reach his face.
"My father ordered you to resist?" he asked, feeling the stares behind him, not of ill-intent, just, observational.
"He ordered us to hold the city for House Lannister and King Joffrey. He did not threaten us, if that is what you are asking. Ser Damion reminded us of our obligations and advised that the Rock could support the city if necessary."
Lord Roland Crakehall, who had listened in silence until then, finally stepped forward. "Support it how? Stafford's host is gone, Lord Tywin is a prisoner, and every road east of here now belongs to the northmen. Casterly Rock can feed its own garrison for years, perhaps. It cannot stop a city from starving merely by looking down upon it."
Tymond studied Roland carefully. "You would have us trust the judgment of a man who surrendered to the army outside our walls?"
Roland did not bristle. His face only became more tired.
"I would have you trust the judgment of a man who watched Stafford refuse terms before Oxcross and then watched three thousand men pay for his pride. King Alaric Stark offered me surrender afterward and has kept every promise made since. My sons are dead, my army is gone, and I have little cause to admire the men who brought that about. If I believed opening your gates meant putting Lannisport to the sword, I would tell you to bar them and make every street cost blood. I do not believe that."
For the first time, the younger envoys looked less certain of their resistance.
Tymond exhaled slowly. "The city will not die for a command Casterly Rock cannot enforce. I will say that plainly before witnesses. But neither will we declare Ser Damion a traitor or cast aside our house."
"No one asked you to," Lucion replied. "Open the gates, keep order, and stop supplying men who intend to continue a war they can no longer win. Whatever comes afterward can be argued by men who are still alive."
Tymond nodded. "Then we have terms."
They clasped forearms rather than hands.
The envoys rode back toward the city beneath their white banner, leaving the northern host waiting on the heights.
It took almost three hours for the gates to open. Those hours were worse than the negotiation.
Lucion spent most of them riding between Alaric's position and the forward companies while messages passed back and forth. Ser Desmond Manderly selected the Winter Guards who would secure the harbor. Ser Ellard Karstark was given the armories and principal storehouses. Robb would accompany the men taking the western gate, while Jon was sent to oversee the surrender and accounting of the city watch. Alaric deliberately kept the overwhelming majority of the army outside the walls.
When Lucion asked why, Alaric gave him a direct answer for once.
"Seven thousand armed men inside a frightened city is how someone gets stabbed, someone else gets drunk, a shop is robbed, and by nightfall I am hanging my own soldiers to prove I meant what I promised. Desmond and Ellard have enough disciplined men to secure what matters. The rest can sleep outside."
Lucion nodded. "The merchants will appreciate that."
"I care more that the smallfolk do."
That sounded like Ned Stark speaking through him, though Lucion had learned there were things in Alaric that belonged to neither Ned nor his father, Brandon.
The gates finally opened shortly after midday.
No bells rang in celebration. No crowd cheered.
Winter Guards entered first in ordered ranks, shields on their backs and weapons sheathed. Men of the city watch waited inside with spears grounded while their officers spoke with Ser Desmond and Ser Ellard. Once the gates were secure, Alaric entered with a smaller party around him. The Crown of Winter proudly sat upon his brow.
Harald stayed close enough to touch the king's horse. Daven rode behind him, while Robb, Jon, and Dorren kept near with the direwolves. Smalljon and Derrick followed with the rest of the younger men, and Roland rode beside Lucion beneath the watch of two Winter Guards who had long since stopped behaving as though they expected him to flee.
Lucion had known Lannisport all his life but he scarcely recognized it now.
The streets themselves had not changed. The same stone houses leaned over narrow lanes, the same merchant signs swung above doorways, and the smell of salt, horses, smoke and crowded humanity remained exactly as he remembered. Yet every shutter seemed half closed, and people watched from doors and windows without knowing whether they were supposed to fear the northmen, hate them, or simply be grateful that no one had started burning anything.
A woman shouted "traitor" from somewhere behind the crowd.
Lucion heard it clearly, but he simply kept riding.
A few streets later, an elderly man standing outside a wine merchant's shop stared at him until Lucion finally recognized the broad nose and missing fingers on his left hand.
"Gods," the man muttered. "Shiera's boy."
Lucion pulled his horse to a halt.
"Master Gerold?"
The old merchant laughed softly, though his eyes were wet. "Your mother used to tell me my Arbor reds were overpriced. She was usually right and bought them anyway."
Lucion smiled despite the tightness in his chest. "She complained about everything she intended to purchase."
"Aye. Means she liked it." Gerold looked past Lucion toward the northern banners moving through the street. "Never thought I would see you come home like this."
"Neither did I."
The old man considered him for several moments. "See that they keep their word."
Lucion looked back toward Alaric, who had stopped farther ahead while Dorren spoke with one of the Winter Guard officers. Tempest waited beside him, indifferent to the frightened stares around them.
"I intend to."
Gerold nodded once. "That will do."
Lucion rode on.
By late afternoon, northern guards held the harbor gates, the largest armories and several city entrances, but the taverns remained open, the markets were still trading, and the city watch continued patrolling beside Winter Guards. No general seizure had begun. No soldiers were being quartered inside private homes.
The first message from Casterly Rock reached Lucion before sunset. The seal belonged to his father. He took the letter alone to an upper chamber in the Lannisport Lannisters' hall and stood beside an open window overlooking the city before breaking it.
Damion's hand had changed little since Lucion was a boy.
Lucion,
Word reaches us faster than men suppose, and I know enough of what has happened between Oxcross and Lannisport to understand the position you now occupy. I am told Lord Crakehall rides beside you, that houses which surrendered kept their lands, and that King Alaric has increasingly allowed you to give the terms by which western men return home. If those reports are true, then I will not pretend I am displeased that you have used whatever influence you possess to keep our country from being destroyed.
Lucion read that passage twice.
The next was harder.
I remain castellan of Casterly Rock. Your grandfather entrusted duties to me long before this war, and Lord Tywin confirmed them. I will not surrender the Rock while he lives and has given no order commanding me to do so. That is not a judgment upon you, nor is it loyalty to Joffrey above my own blood. It is simply the office I accepted, and I will not abandon it because the war has become difficult.
I am your father before I am castellan, however, and so I will say what I would not write to another man. Be careful what King Alaric is making of you. He is clever enough to understand that western lords will take commands more easily from a Lannister than from a Stark. Perhaps he trusts you. Perhaps he means to raise you. Perhaps both are true. I do not know him well enough to decide. You know him better than I do.
I know only that powerful men rarely place another man at the center of events without purpose. Your mother would tell me I am worrying too much. She usually did. I hope she would also tell you to come speak to your father before either of us allows duty to make enemies of men who have no wish to become them.
Your Father, Ser Damion Lannister, Castellan of Casterly Rock.
Lucion lowered the letter.
He remained beside the window until someone knocked.
Roland entered only after Lucion called permission. "You look worse than you did when the woman called you traitor," he said, taking a seat
"My father wrote to me."
Roland stopped. "Damion finally speaks, hmm?" he hummed
"He will not surrender the Rock."
"I would have been surprised if he had."
Lucion handed him the letter.
Roland read it slowly and returned it without comment.
"Well?" Lucion asked, seeing him read it over a couple of times more.
Roland stood and moved toward the window. "Your father is doing his duty as he understands it. You are doing yours as you understand it. The unfortunate part is that both of you can be reasonable and still end on different sides of the same gate."
"He thinks Alaric is using me."
"Alaric is using you, my boy, that is no secret."
Lucion looked sharply at him.
Roland met his eyes. "That does not mean he does not trust you. He uses Harald to guard him because he trusts Harald. He uses Desmond and Ellard because he trusts them to command. He uses you because western lords listen when you speak. Your father is not wrong about that."
"And everything else?"
Roland was quiet for a moment. "I think Damion sees what I saw on the road. The only difference is that he fears where it leads."
Lucion folded the letter carefully. "And you?" he asked. "What do you make of all of this?"
"Well, for my part, I am waiting to see whether you are frightened of it."
Before Lucion could answer, footsteps sounded outside, and Alaric entered with Harald behind him, while Dorren followed a moment later with Shadow at his heels. Robb and Jon were somewhere below with Smalljon, Derrick and the others, helping Ser Desmond settle another argument between the city watch and northern quartermasters.
Alaric looked at the letter. "Your father?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer
Lucion nodded. "He has elected to hold Casterly Rock."
"I expected he would," Alaric said, shrugging, not dismissively, just in a way that conveyed he had thought this entire situation through already, typical for him, of course.
"He wants to speak before either of us makes the other an enemy."
Alaric considered that, then pulled out a chair. "Good. I have no intention of storming the Rock merely to prove I can lose thousands of men against a mountain."
Roland leaned against the window ledge. "Then what do you intend?"
"Nothing, for now. We hold Lannisport, the roads and most of the surrounding country. The Rock can close its gates and eat from its stores while the rest of the West decides what it wants."
Lucion understood before Alaric continued.
"You are summoning the lords."
"Aye. Lord Crakehall, of course, is already in attendance, but also Lords Brax, Marbrand, Westerling, Serrett, Lydden, Banefort, Farman, Prester, every house with enough land and men left to matter. Safe conduct to Lannisport. I want them here within a fortnight."
"To surrender?"
Alaric shook his head. "To decide what comes after it."
Lucion looked down at his father's letter.
Alaric and Roland both noticed, but neither man said anything, letting him stew in his thoughts.
Outside, Lannisport's harbor bells began sounding the evening hour while the city remained intact beneath its own banners, of course, the banner of House Stark bellowed in the wind beside them now.
For the first time since Alaric crossed the Golden Tooth, Lucion found himself wondering less about whether the West would fall and more about what they meant to build once it had.