Lord Roboute Tyrell

- 263 AC -

The halls of Casterly Rock were decorated in crimson and gold. Firelight flickered from tall sconces, and polished floors reflected the lion banners that hung from every arch. Highborns had gathered from across Westeros to witness the union of Tywin Lannister and Joanna—an event meant not just for celebration, but other things as well. 

From the Stormlands came Lord Penrose and Lord Caron. From the Vale, a younger son of House Arryn. Prince Lewyn Martell, member of the Kingsguard, as well as the Princess of Dorne, attended, flanked by Sunspear emissaries. Even the Targaryen delegation arrived in person. King Aerys himself attended, seated beside Queen Rhaella, who wore a smile that never reached her eyes. The King drank deeply and often, laughing louder than others, speaking too closely, too freely. Queen Rhaella had dismissed Joanna from her service shortly after the celebrations began. No official reason was given. But no one needed one. She was to be married, so the reason was obvious, right?

But the most whispered-about guest was not a prince. It was Roboute Tyrell.

He entered the halls without fanfare. The Ultramarines in deep blue, each marked with the Omega in silver, who had followed him, remained in the quarters Roboute and his men had taken for their short stay. At his side were only a very young man and an even younger girl with short blonde hair. Roboute did not smile. He nodded only slightly to the hosts, and then he took his seat at the far end of the banquet table, where laughter did not reach. The young man sat to his right, and the girl to his left, having been declined the offer to sit in his lap. She pulled a chair very close to him and then sat on it, eating in silence. 

It was amusing to see the big stature of Roboute and the smaller ones of the young man and woman he arrived with. Both men had a similar expression, while the girl seemed unbothered about everything and was just focused on eating. But the young man looked displeased and moved his gaze over everyone, as if he were looking for something. It looked ridiculous, but only because no one understood who these two were and what they would eventually become. 

.

The feast was opulent. Roast boar stuffed with dates. Spiced wine from Arbor casks, bought, not gifted. Crusted trout with lemon glaze. Veal cooked over fruitwood fires. Musicians played ballads of old Lannister glory, bright, boisterous and proud.

And yet, around Roboute, there was mostly silence. The Lords who felt it necessary to greet him did so quickly, with their palms sweating as they did. No one would remain in his presence for long, as it was pressing to them, as if a heavy weight was pressed on their chests, making breathing harder and causing their instincts to scream at them. Conversations stumbled when he passed. It wasn't rudeness, it was just discomfort. 

Amusingly enough, the servants, while avoiding his gaze initially, found him to be enjoyable to be around. They were asked questions and answered them, unlike other lords or ladies. They had their tongues loosened within a few of his words and felt as if he knew everything before they answered, so they didn't dare lie. Needless to say, a lot of female eyes landed on him as well. 

Roboute said little, ate little, but observed everything while listening to his companions' discussion. Unlike the young man, Roboute only needed a very quick glance to understand and see everything he needed to know. His senses were far more enhanced than those of every living creature, so he could act as though he was eating and listening in. He could do that while talking with someone as well; he was a multitasking monster. Ironically, the girl had immense talent, having studied Roboute ever since he appeared in her life and took her in. 

From the layout of the courtyard to the number of guards per gate, from the angle of the harbour docks in Lannisport to the torchlight patterns in the outer halls of the Rock, he memorised it all. Within the vault of his mind, Roboute constructed a three-dimensional map of Casterly Rock and Lannisport, noting weaknesses: blind turns, overloaded watchpoints, clustered chokeholds, and the slow rotation of the night guard.

He never bothered twice with the same detail. 

.

Later that night, Joanna sat at the table of honours and overlooked the hall. Tywin approached, having made a round, and sat down next to her. An uncharacteristic smile was seen on his face. One that, as his sister would claim, was one of the very few he would ever show. 

"He unnerves them," Joanna said without turning around.

"It seems that way, yes," Tywin replied.

Joanna smiled faintly as she felt her husband's hands roaming around. 

"He barely spoke all night. He doesn't flirt, doesn't toast, doesn't drink. Doesn't even look impressed. And all that after I spent so long prepping everything."

"That's because he isn't," Tywin said. "He's here for the same reason I invited him. To get a measure of who we are and how big a threat we will be."

Joanna turned around and glanced at Tywin. 

"You think he's a threat?"

"Most likely, yes. But there are ways to keep the Reach in line. They still have their weaknesses, and no matter what they want others to believe, they are alone against most of the 7 kingdoms, and since the Free Cities are also not happy with them, they would have to split their forces, should they wish to keep what they have."

"Why did you invite him?"

"To see how deep the still water runs."

"So you are also testing him? Have you spoken to him yet?" Joanna asked. 

"Not yet, but I'll do that. Wait for me," he said, kissed her and then walked away. 

.

The laughter was loudest near the King. Aerys clapped a little too hard, his grin lingering too long. Joanna sat composed, poised, and perfectly in control, though her eyes betrayed the weariness of enduring the King's attention for hours. His gaze clung to her like smoke, oily and hot. Rhaella sat beside him, her smile fixed, her posture flawless—an image of a queen watching her own humiliation unfold.

Tywin moved through the crowd like a king already crowned. There was no flourish in his stride, but every step cleared the space around him. The Lords gave way without being asked. Courtiers turned their eyes downward. He stopped only when he reached Roboute Tyrell. The Tyrell heir stood tall, statuesque, his cup untouched. He had grown taller again. The young man beside him, lean but with muscles beginning to show and a sharp-eyed gaze, stopped talking with Roboute when Tywin arrived. The girl couldn't be bothered and continued eating.

"Lord Tyrell," Tywin began, voice low and deliberate. "It is good to see you again. Thank you for attending the celebrations."

Roboute did not reply, not at first. He turned his head, acknowledging Tywin's presence, but it was his companion who answered, his voice betraying his young age, but not his maturity. 

"You are fortunate that Lord Roboute chose to come. There were far more critical matters that required attention. But as we wished to assess the current state of your region, we made time."

A subtle stillness grew between them. The honest, yet bold words were new for everyone. Tywin's fingers tightened on the stem of his goblet.

"This is Ronard Augustus Calgar," was all that Roboute said, as if that was enough of an explanation.

Tywin's brow rose, faintly, ignoring what had just happened. And also that the girl hadn't been introduced.

"You've seen the halls. Walked the ramparts. We both know you're not here for the feast."

Ronard stepped forward and answered again, his words sharper now. 

"Your point?"

Tywin's eyes narrowed at the youth's insolence. 

"The Lords are talking, child. You had better—"

"I shall speak when I choose to."

The insult landed. The hall paid some attention now, and even the musicians slowed. But Roboute raised a hand. 

"Enough, Ronard. They are not used to hearing the truth as we are. Let them enjoy their haughty ignorance."

Ronard stepped back, silent again after nodding his head. Tywin inhaled through his nose, forcing his voice steady. 

"Most men would comment on the food, the music, the banners. You haven't even raised your goblet."

"I don't indulge myself with waste."

The answer was short and arrogant. Tywin studied him, taking in his posture, tone, and complete lack of interest in display. The way he didn't mince his words and spoke what he thought out loud. Pathetic, Tywin thought, he wouldn't last that long. Getting enemies and dissidents to rally against him would not be hard. 

"You like to be honest, so let's be honest. Soon I'll be Lord of Casterly Rock. When that happens, your free hand will cease to exist. I won't tolerate rivals."

Roboute's eyes met his, not bothered at all. 

"What rival?"

Roboute's tone didn't carry mockery, but the words did. Tywin swallowed hard, angry at this encounter. This was not going how he thought it would. He was trying to get a rise out of the man, to get him to react arrogantly, and in a way he did, but not in the way he expected. There was still no movement of his facial muscles or show of pleasure, nothing. 

"You speak like a man who doesn't understand that he's outnumbered."

"It seems I can count better than you."

Tywin gave a tight smile, one corner of his mouth lifting. 

"You're making the old houses nervous. You know that, and you think the aftermath of the war will give you time. Well, you don't have any time anymore. I wonder how the other kingdoms will react once they find out that the Reach prospered and didn't give their all during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, but then reaped all the rewards."

"Not good. They'll be furious and bothered about it. But then they will remember what the Reach did with a handful of men what they couldn't do with combined forces, understand that we still have tens of thousands of fresh, well-trained men and think twice about their actions."

Tywin didn't answer and looked at Roboute. Then, without further word or gesture, he turned and left, going back to his wife Joanna. Roboute turned his head and caught someone looking at him from the other side of the hall: Rhaella Targaryen, the Queen of Westeros. Realising that she had been found out, she averted her gaze and looked at her food. But it was too late, both Roboute and Ronard had seen it. 

"We'll wait," Ronard said and sat down.

But the girl didn't sit idly. Seeing Roboute walk forward and approach the higher table, she stood up and followed him with a chicken leg in hand. She had not stopped following Roboute yet, even after two years of training and education. Aerys, who was drunk at this point, turned his head unwillingly as he felt Roboute's presence arrive. 

"Ah... Roboute Tyrell... di- *hick*... d-do y-you ha...ve the Blackfyre ... sw-swoord?" he lulled. 

"I only have my own sword. It's called the Gladius Incandor," Roboute answered. "You will surely get to see it up close at some point."

Roboute ignored the king and looked at Rhaella. He studied her and then, without saying anything, left and walked back to his table. He had accomplished what he wanted and now had to wait. Seeing him leave, Aerys shook his head and went back to talking with Joanna, while Rhaella was confused. She thought he would come here for her and talk to her, but he didn't. She thought about the marriage, which had been planned originally, and how it would have been better. Looking at Aerys, she was certain it couldn't have been worse. He was not yet mad, but the newly crowned king had violent tendencies. 

Without thinking about the repercussions, Rhaella stood up and walked to Roboute Tyrell's table. Giving Aerys some excuse he wouldn't remember anyway, she made her way over. It was as if she had entered another room; that's how quiet the area around Roboute was. Several seats were pulled away, and people sat closer to one another in other places. She sat down. 

"She looks like shit," the girl said. 

Rhaella moved her head back in surprise, as if she had been hit physically. This might have been audacious, but they didn't care. The Queen looked at Roboute, as if making sure that she heard that right. 

"Julith!" Ronard said. 

The girl just shrugged her shoulders. 

"Julith's right. He hits you?" Roboute asked, despite knowing the answer. 

"How dar--"

"You can be honest with us. The engagement didn't bother me, and neither did the news that it was broken. But you seem to be bothered about it."

Rhaella didn't know how to react. They were right, of course. Seeing the man Roboute was for the first time, hurt her. She hated her life as it was. And it would only get more terrible. 

"Are you interested in travelling to the Reach?" Roboute asked suddenly. 

"What?"

"Make some excuse. Tell Aerys that you will try to find out more about the Reach and spy on us. Tell him that you will find out some of our secrets. That way, you will get some time away from the pathetic waste that he is."

Rhaella was flabbergasted. She hadn't said two full sentences, but was analysed and then invited in quick succession. She didn't understand Roboute's reason behind this. It couldn't be that he was being... nice to her, could it? Naturally, not. Roboute saw the realm for what it was, and he saw the way Aerys looked at Joanna. He also knew the capabilities of Tywin Lannister and what he could do when, not if, he got a high position. Roboute saw both Joanna and Rhaella as the two things he would need to control both Aerys and Tywin, and ruin any relationship they might have now or in the future. 

Roboute stood up under the watchful eyes of the others. Julith stood up right away, as did Ronard and Rhaella. 

"Where are you going?" Ronard asked. 

"I have something to talk about with Lord Tytos Lannister. Say, Rhaella, why don't you introduce us?" Roboute said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

He didn't use any titles whatsoever. 

"But, Lord Tytos wasn't invited so--"

"That's perfect. What I have to discuss with him is not for anyone else to hear anyway. Let's go."

"Ahh... alright, as you wish."