Snippet #1498784

Lionel chuckled. "Oh, right. I'd forgotten you were a girl. You give me his head on a spike then. I'll give you jewels and dresses and whatnot. You'll probably be the first ever woman to wear breeches at her wedding, though. And no, please don't embroider periwinkles. I wouldn't want you to lose your fingers," he teased. "Although I do expect you to stop sleeping with every decent-looking guy you come across. Blonde sellswords included."

Speaking of which… Something had to be done about Ammon. Not only did the man continuously ogle Leliana with the sole intent of pissing Lionel off, he was also too dangerous to have around. Lionel had to be in control; he didn't need Jans' second-in-command about to boss around the Mummers in his stead. Jans was perfectly willing to cooperate with Lionel, and he was easily manipulated. Ammon was not. Rather than go through the trouble of dealing with the Mummer, Lionel figured that he'd just find some way to get rid of him.

He also needed some way to get rid of Raban. Word spread fast, and apparently Raban was being quickly groomed to fill in the vacancy left by Lionel- and doing a better job of it, too. Although Lionel wasn't in the least bit jealous of Raban's life as the crown prince, he did envy the political power his brother now held- political power that was supposed to be his. But if he offed Raban, then there would be no heir to the throne…and then even a Bastard King would be better than no king. If there was some way to get rid of Ammon and Raban in one blow…

But there was. And it was painfully obvious.

~

"Is that really you, Lionel? By the Seven, you've changed since five years ago. You look absolutely nothing like Henry now," were Lord Jon Tyrell's first words to Lionel as he met them at the Shield Islands. The Tyrells had ridden out from Highgarden, followed by a long procession of supplies. During the weeks spent sailing through the Summer Sea, Lionel had exchanged several ravens with the Tyrells, who had promised a half of their fleet and unlimited supplies to aid in overtaking Winterfell. "Let's hope you act nothing like him, either."

"Lord Jon." Lionel stepped forward to embrace the man. The last time he had met the Tyrells was five years ago during a diplomatic visit with his father, a visit made to resolve trade issues in the Whispering Sound. Henry had wanted the Tyrells to enforce higher taxes in order to generate more income for the crown, but Lord Tyrell had adamantly refused on the grounds that it would drive away business. It was a visit that had not ended well for the king, but Lionel had made several crucial political ties there. A well-known story that circulated within Highgarden involved a twelve-year-old Lionel whispering to Jon Tyrell as they left, "It'll be different when I'm king." Lord Tyrell had been fond of Lionel since then, sending him gifts for his name day even when the Tyrells themselves were never present. A possible match had even been proposed between Lionel and Jon Tyrell's daughter Gynna, but Henry had crushed that easily enough. Nevertheless, Jon Tyrell had known early on that fostering a good relationship with the son was more important than maintaining relationships with the father. Henry would not live forever, but Lionel had many years ahead of him.

The Tyrells looked the same as they always had; brown-haired, slender-featured, but steely-eyed. A young boy walked by Jon Tyrell's side; Ronald Tyrell, Lionel guessed. The heir to House Tyrell was younger than Raban was, but almost as tall- and quite strong now, by the look of things.

"Hello, Lionel." Gynna Tyrell said shyly, dismounting from her horse to stand beside her father. She was the same as he remembered- sweet, slender, and doe-eyed, with curly brown locks tumbling past her shoulders. Lionel had actually liked Gynna once, had even pressured his father to say yes to the Tyrells' proposal. She had always been a just little too docile, though, too meek and unwilling to speak her thoughts- although Lionel knew the girl had a mind as sharp as a sword when pressed to it.

"Lady Gynna. It's nice to see you again," he said politely, drawing Leliana forward. Best clear up any misunderstandings before they occurred. "My betrothed, Lady Leliana Greyhardt. I doubt you've met before."

"No, but we've all heard the story of your dashing affair at the Red Keep," Jon Tyrell interrupted. "We all applaud your romanticism, Lionel. That was quite charming, but probably not worth an eyeball, now was it?"

"No, but I did get a war out of it," Lionel laughed along with the rest of the Tyrells. He had always admired Jon Tyrell's dry wit and cynicism. Given his choice of allies, he was glad to have the Tyrells on his side. They were a House of roses, yes, but all roses had thorns, the older ones most of all.

After loading the ships up with supplies, they stayed in the Whispering Sound overnight. While the rest of the men slept on deck, Lionel and his "court" dined with the Tyrells in a small cabin near the water, talking late into the night of their plans for invasion. Lord Tyrell set a decent table; although it was nothing compared to the last feast Lionel had sat at, they did not lack for smoked fish, fresh bread, wine, dried venison, and broiled mushrooms.

"So you're set on Winterfell," Jon Tyrell said. "Not the easiest battle you could be fighting, but probably the most strategic one. You could take Crakenhall or Tarth without breaking a sweat, but both of those are too difficult to maintain and too close to Casterly Rock."

Lionel nodded. "We may as well bite large while we've still got the element of surprise. Winterfell might have some warning, but they won't be fully prepared- and they don't know the full size of our fleet."

Jon Tyrell took a sip of wine. "I don't disagree. You'll have Winterfell, I'm sure of that, but the question is- at what cost? It'll be a hard-fought battle no matter what you do, and you'll need at least a month to recuperate and build up your forces again. Meanwhile, Jamie Winsler is still out there wreaking havoc doing gods-knows-what, and Henry might go so far as to send troops to take back Winterfell, although that's not really like him."

Lionel shrugged. "The Winslers aren't a problem. Jamie's a sword with two legs and an arm attacked. He doesn't know how to fight a real battle, he only thinks he does. Guerilla warfare is nothing compared to the strategies you need to take a stronghold, and I've had experience with that where he hasn't. If he tries for Winterfell, I'll just sit down somewhere and think of a way to outsmart him, that always works when dealing with savage brutes."

"Savage brutes? You're one to talk," Jon Tyrell said wryly.

Lionel laughed. "I'm only savage when I’ve got a sword in my hand. So keep me on a horse with a spear in my arms and I'll control myself."

~

Thanks to an unfortunate incident concerning one of the Bloody Mummers and the wife of the captain of Jon Tyrell's fleet, it was well past mid-morning when they finally headed back out to sea, and tempers were running high. The Tyrell's men and the Mummers were sailing on segregated ships, so as to minimize the conflict, but that didn't diminish the amount of bloody curses that were flung from ship to ship. Lionel groaned as he paced the front deck, ducking a hurled cabbage from one of the Tyrell's ships.

"The Braavosi and the Mummers want to kill each other, the Tyrells and the Mummers want to kill each other, the Tyrells want to kill the Braavosi for all I know, and the men of Myr, as usual, won't tell me anything about their real intentions," he complained out loud. "With a disjointed army like this, we'll kill each other before my father gets around to it."

"Aww, it's not so bad," Reuben commented, dropping in (unwanted) as usual. "Think about it. There hasn't been a serious injury yet- aside from the drowned drunken Mummer, but he did it to himself. This is just their way of having fun. They'll get serious enough when we get to Winterfell."

"I hope so," Lionel scowled. "I don't need Jans calling Jon Tyrell a bloody nailhead when we sail into Pyke. I don't know what that even means."

"At least we settled the whole affair with Ammon,"Reuben offered. "I thought he was never going to stop arguing."

It was true. Ammon and Sirena had been left on land when they sailed off, with the simple orders of "Go to the Red Keep and kill my lovely little brother for me, please." It was a rash action, but Lionel, already irritated with the Mummers, hadn't thought too clearly before deciding to rid himself of the lizard. Besides, it wasn't like anything could go wrong. If Ammon killed Raban and got away, he could always just deal with Ammon afterwards. If both were killed in the process, so much the better for him. And if Ammon was killed…

Lionel grinned, liking the third scenario. It truly didn't matter of Ammon was successful or not. If Adelaide and Raban found out, they would only become paranoid. The message would be clear, almost childishly so. I'm still alive, kiddos, and I'm going to get you. So you'd better start sleeping with a candle lit, because when you're not looking…