Chapter Text
Storms End experienced the sun only a few days every month. It wasn’t that there was constant storms, as the name suggested. But if there wasn’t rain, there was clouds. If not clouds, then fierce winds and fog raged around the castle. Borros Baratheon rubbed one hand into his temple. The remnants of last night’s headache still hadn’t faded. Whether it was due to the ale or simple stress, he wasn’t sure. Lately it could have been both.
The maester before him rose with one arm held onto the chair. He was an elderly man. Frail and prone to falling asleep. Borros hoped he would pass sooner rather than later. He needed fresh blood in his council. Beside him, Sir Raymond Buckler frowned in disgust as he watched the elder rise and make his slow exit from the room. He sighed in relief. The candles on the tables flickered. The wind hit the windows outside with something fierce. A storm would come tonight, Borros thought. He should tell the servants to secure some boards on the higher towers.
“What news from the Citadel?” Borros interrupted his own thoughts with the question he had been meaning to ask most of the meeting.
Raymond turned back to the Lord, his face quickly morphing into a neutral pleasure rather than the disdain present before. “Lord Hightower has not yet replied my Lord. It may be that he holds no desire to come and break bread.”
“Do you think he understood the underlying meaning?”
“I do, my Lord. Though it is unclear as to how he may go about it. If he does choose to secure himself again with the Targaryens, the letter cannot be read one way or another.”
“Hmm.” Borros shifted in his chair. The cold was making his joints ache.
“The matter is a delicate one Sire.”
“What is delicate about it?’ Borros’s eyes clouded in fury, ‘My House, my daughters, have been utterly humiliated. And the Dragon House has done this over and over again. They abuse the power they hold as rulers of the Lands. And they expect us Lords to simply dance to their tune. For fuck’s sake, a week ago now the House could barely break bread together themselves. Now… they have just celebrated a new coronation, a wedding feast, and soon I hear they will announce that princess as Heir.”
“A new ruler will bring a shift of the tides. Especially one as formidable as Rhaenyra so I hear.”
“Have you ever actually seen her?” Borros asked.
Raymond shook his head softly. “No.”
“Hmm… she is a clever cunt, no doubt. But we cannot let these actions stand. Many of those are still weary of her new place on the throne. And more so her daughter’s afterwards. Not to mention the deranged princes beside them. The House of the Dragon cannot be made to simply hold the strings of the land and its Lords like this without consequence.”
“And you believe Hightower to agree with you? Other lords to follow?”
Borros merely grinned. “Dear Buckler…The Targaryens could not have simply solved all their issues with a new Queen and marriage. Their waters are still icy and if they’re pushed then perhaps they could even be bloody.”
“You do realize my Lord that you are proposing an all—
The man paused to clear his throat before continuing in a soft whisper. ‘You are prescribing a civil war my Lord. Surely you do not wish to go forward in these plans when the possibility could mean the death of yourself and your family. Not to mention countless numbers of your own men.”
Borros shook his head. His eyes remained in their state of unease. “This isn’t about some feckless boy who chose one woman over my daughter. I couldn’t give a fig. This is about the honor of House Baratheon. About the fact that the House of the Dragon comes and goes as it pleases here and frankly in every part of Westeros. The Conqueror may have risen in the past for good reasons, and my ancestor alongside him… but this is a new age. Times are different Borros. They say they protect us. That they unite us. Pssht… What in the bleeding hells is coming for us that we must have these white haired mad creatures on our Throne?”
“Sir if war is what you desire then you should weigh the costs. That is all I say. Consider the fact that they hold beasts that could level these lands thrice over.”
Borros merely shrugged. “Dragons have been killed before.”
“Yes… by other dragons. Last time I checked, we have none. And the few who have been brought down by men were done so at great cost of lives. There are still structures all across our world that hold the results of dragon fire. We should move cautiously my Lord.”
The Lord scoffed. “Caution, he says. Well I say send another raven to Hightower. And use your thick head to write something he cannot refuse. I want Lord Hightower and his son here by the next moon’s feast. And if you cannot get that done then I will find another advisor that will. Do I make myself clear?”
Raymond nodded. His eyes cast down. It was useless to reason with Borros. His father… he had a wisdom at least. A mind that could be reasoned with. Borros seemed to have never inherited such a trait. So he bowed low and exited to his own office. The storm outside was picking up. Still he let the window remain open. The winds and sea breeze blew over his face. Almost stinging. Perhaps it’d help him see clearer.