97 A.C.
The sun streamed through the narrow windows of the small council chambers in the Red Keep, casting long, slanted beams across the ancient, worn stone of the floors. King Jaehaerys Targaryen, the First of His Name, sat at the head of the great oaken table, his expression thoughtful as he listened to the discussions around him. The room was alive with the muted hum of voices, the scrape of chairs against stone, and the rustle of parchment as the members of his council argued and debated the affairs of the realm.
It was a typical morning in King's Landing. The air was filled with the mingled scents of the harbor and the city's many bakeries and taverns. Beyond the thick walls of the Keep, the city bustled and teemed, the narrow, winding streets crowded with merchants and commoners alike. But inside this chamber, the fate of Westeros was being shaped, one decision at a time.
Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, his eyes moving from one council member to the next. His face, framed by the silver hair of the Targaryens, was calm and composed, but his mind was sharp, keenly aware of every word spoken and every nuance of tone. He had ruled for many years now, long enough to know that true power lay not in dragons or armies, but in wisdom and careful governance.
"His demands are ludicrous," the Master of Ships, Lord Corlys Velaryon, was saying, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. "Lord Tyrell presumes too much. A seat on the small council, after his cousin's tenure as Master of Coin? It's arrogance, plain and simple."
Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow. Lord Corlys had always been direct, a trait the king appreciated in the often convoluted world of court politics. He glanced at the Hand of the King, Septon Barth, who sat beside him, his face impassive as ever.
"Lord Tyrell's demands are indeed bold," Septon Barth said calmly. His deep, even voice carried a weight of reason that often diffused the most heated debates. "But we cannot deny that his house has served the realm loyally, especially during the recent troubles in the Reach."
"Loyalty is expected, not something to be rewarded with a council seat," Lord Beesbury, the current Master of Coin, interjected, his voice tinged with annoyance. "He merely seeks to inflate his family's importance."
Jaehaerys nodded thoughtfully. "House Tyrell has always been ambitious," he mused. "But ambition is not a crime. We must consider whether his demands have any merit, beyond his desire to elevate his house's standing."
"Merit?" Lord Beesbury spluttered. "He's no better a Master of Coin than I am, Your Grace! And my predecessor was a Tyrell too!"
"That is precisely the problem," Jaehaerys said softly. "A council filled with men from the same families can become insular, blind to the needs of the realm. We must be cautious not to allow one house to gain too much influence."
He turned to the Grand Maester, Elysar, whose robes rustled as he leaned forward. "What do you think, Grand Maester?"
Elysar stroked his long, graying beard, his eyes thoughtful. "I believe, Your Grace, that while Lord Tyrell's ambitions should be noted, they need not be indulged. A man too accustomed to having his way will never know where to stop. Perhaps a more modest reward might suffice—an acknowledgment of his service, but not a seat on the council."
Jaehaerys nodded. "Agreed. Send a letter, Lord Beesbury, thanking Lord Tyrell for his service. But make it clear that there are no vacancies on the council at this time."
Lord Beesbury's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. "As you wish, Your Grace."
With that matter settled, Jaehaerys turned his attention to Septon Barth. "You mentioned unrest in the Vale?"
The Hand of the King nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, Your Grace. The Lords of the Vale have grown restless. They feel neglected, overlooked by the Crown. There have been whispers of discontent, talk that they have been forgotten while other regions receive your attention."
"Forgotten?" Jaehaerys repeated, his voice laced with incredulity. "The Vale has always been a loyal supporter of House Targaryen."
"True," Barth agreed. "But loyalty, like any other virtue, must be nurtured. The Lords of the Vale feel that their concerns have been dismissed. They have no representation on this council, no say in the decisions that shape the realm."
Jaehaerys frowned, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "And what would you suggest?"
"A marriage, Your Grace," Barth said simply. "The Lords of the Vale are proud, but they are also practical. A royal marriage would bind them to the Crown more securely than any alliance. It would show them that they are valued, that their loyalty is reciprocated."
Jaehaerys considered this. "A marriage would indeed serve to strengthen ties. But with whom?"
Barth smiled faintly. "There are many options, Your Grace. House Arryn has eligible sons and daughters, as do many of the lesser houses of the Vale, like House Royce. A careful match could do much to soothe their grievances."
The king nodded slowly. "Very well. We will consider this further. I will not have the Vale turn against us over a perceived slight."
He paused, his gaze moving to the Grand Maester. "Grand Maester Elysar, I received an interesting message from Lord Stark. He has raised a new house to the lordship of Skagos—House Peverell. Do you know anything of them?"
Elysar's brow furrowed, and he shook his head slowly. "House Peverell, Your Grace? The name is unfamiliar to me."
Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It is unusual for the North to see the rise of a new house, especially on Skagos. That island has been a wild and untamed place for centuries, its people more akin to wildlings than to true northerners."
"It has been nearly three thousand years since Skagos had a high lord under House Stark," Elysar said thoughtfully. "The island has always been unpredictable, its lords even more so."
"Indeed," Jaehaerys murmured. "And now, a new house appears, claiming dominion over the island. It is... intriguing."
Barth leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What do we know of this House Peverell?"
"Very little," Elysar admitted. "But that is not unusual for the North. Many of its smaller houses have existed for centuries, yet are barely mentioned in the histories. The North is vast and sparsely populated, and the Maesters of Oldtown have not always been diligent in recording the affairs of every minor house."
Jaehaerys chuckled softly. "Minor no longer, it would seem. If this House Peverell can bring order to Skagos, they will be more than a footnote in the histories."
"But can they?" Barth asked, his tone cautious. "Skagos is a harsh and unforgiving place. Many have tried to tame it and failed. If Lord Stark has raised this house to power, he must believe they can hold the island. But we should not place too much faith in them until we see proof."
Jaehaerys nodded, his gaze distant. "True. We shall watch and wait. Skagos is unpredictable, as you say, and so, it seems, are its lords."
There was a murmur of agreement around the table. The council had seen many ambitious men rise and fall, their schemes unraveling in the face of the harsh realities of the realm. This new House Peverell might succeed, or they might be crushed by the very land they sought to rule. Only time would tell.
"As for the rest of the realm," Jaehaerys continued, "what news?"
Septon Barth glanced at the parchment before him. "The Westerlands and the Riverlands are quiet. Lord Tully has been diligent in maintaining the peace along the Trident, and Lord Lannister seems content with his current position. There have been minor disputes along the Dornish Marches, but nothing of great concern. The Ironborn are as fractious as ever, but their attention seems focused inward, fighting among themselves rather than raiding the coasts."
Jaehaerys nodded. "And in the Reach?"
Barth's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Beyond Lord Tyrell's ambitions, the Reach is stable. The harvest was good this year, and the smallfolk are content."
"Good," Jaehaerys said, his tone firm. "The peace must be maintained. The realm has known too much turmoil in recent years. We must ensure that all our people, from Dorne to the Wall, feel secure under our rule."
He glanced around the table, his gaze resting on each of his councilors in turn. "If there are no further matters, then we are adjourned."
The council members rose, bowing respectfully before making their way from the chamber. Jaehaerys remained seated, his thoughts turning once more to the North and this mysterious new House Peverell. He could not shake the feeling that there was more to this story than met the eye. The North was a land of secrets, and Skagos, even more so.