Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

 She sat as comfortably as she could, knowing that waiting was now

 the game, but she was starting to get concerned, the servant girl

 should have returned by now to indicate that it was time to make

 their way to Prince Hugh's chambers.

 A rather seedy business, but a necessary one, Tyshara was her

 most wilful daughter, as headstrong as she was beautiful, and sadly

 one who had already gifted her maidenhead to some handsome

 travelling bard. Said bard had briefly sung a few notes higher after

 she had him gelded, and then never sung again after his throat had

 been cut. But there was nothing she could do about her daughter's

 condition. The girl in question drank her Moon Tea as required and

 thankfully there was no complications of a bastard to deal with, and

 Tyshara did like horse riding, so the lack of a maidenhead could be

 explained away if required.

 But for her purposes it would do nicely she hoped, and she hoped

 that her daughter would be able to seduce Prince Hugh, the girl was

 a natural flirt, of that she knew, able to use her beauty, and when she

 wanted to, her words, to twist men into doing her bidding. Despite

 her nature Tyshara was not an unclever girl, and she was not all that

 bothered by having to try and seduce Prince Hugh, even if he was a

 bastard.

 Not that she could blame her daughter, Prince Hugh was a fine

 specimen of a man, tall and broad shouldered, with more than a

 strong dash of a roughness from his humble birth to give him a

 certain frisson of dangerousness about him. Where she younger she

 would not have been averse to offering Prince Hugh Lordship of the

 Rock itself and her hand in marriage. A fine big slab of a man like

 Prince Hugh set her juices running, she would have very much liked

 to enjoy his attentions, and more accurately attention from that

 massive pillar of his which his trousers and britches often did a very

 poor job of hiding.

All the maids were a flutter over him she knew, both from her agents

 reports and from the numerous Balls and Parties that were being

 thrown with seeming no concern for the winter that was gripping the

 land. Every House worth its salt in Kings Landing with an unwed

 daughter seemed to be falling over themselves to throw as elaborate

 and expensive a feast as possible. And invite the King, Prince Hugh,

 and Ser Addam to the events, oh, there were other noble sons and

 even some older widowers about that were looking for wives, but the

 prize was the three aforementioned heirs of the Old Blood.

 The competition was fierce, but her House had the not

 inconsiderable advantage of an almost bottomless purse to fund its

 battle, her daughters wore the latest fashions, the most expensive

 silks and woollens, the food was lavish and the entertainment

 extravagant. And if other Houses grumbled about this, what did she

 care, and if barefoot, ragged Septons preached in the snow-covered

 streets of Kings Landing against the indulgence of the Nobles in the

 Red Keep, let them. The smallfolk had no business being concerned

 about how their betters lived their lives.

 While the King was nominally the greatest prize, his current betrothal

 was somewhat of an obstacle, and one which could be overcome if

 required, her indulgence of the Master of Coin would assist her in

 this, and the removal of Lord Ormund Hightower would likely

 eliminate any real objections to the breaking of the betrothal between

 the King and Princess Jaehaera. The Hand of the King was a man

 with many enemies at court, and the gold of Casterly rock was not

 just being used flippantly, it was equally being put to good use

 greasing the correct palms. And should it become necessary to

 remove the little Princess, it would be something that she would

 have no problem in setting into motion as required.

 Dear Tyshara's fixation with Prince Hugh blinded her to the better

 option, the King, but Cerelle was keeping her preferences close to

 her budding chest. Two daughters wed into House Targaryen would

 be a coup of imaginable scope, and would no doubt cause fierce

 resentment against House Lannister, but as her good father had

once remarked, 'lions do not concern themselves with the bleating of

 sheep'.

 And so, the rounds of entertainment continued, the battle for

 supremacy waged with a ruthlessness that matched any clash of

 arms, the deliberate not inviting of some, the deliberate inviting of

 others, the timing and settings of each banquet and ball. The Houses

 involved marshalled their forces, manoeuvred on a battlefield

 unfamiliar to their menfolk, but intimately known by their wives and

 daughters. Woe be it a noble girl who only had her father to

 accompany her in the Red Keep, for those unfortunates were sadly

 unlikely to prevail.

 Despite her musings her mind returned to her thoughts of Prince

 Hugh, as she had found them wont to do these last few moons. She

 had met him on many occasions, for he was always invited to

 whatever soiree she organised, and his presence was rather hard to,

 well ignore. He towered above most men easily, dressed well, if

 rather plainly, with his style starting to be copied by some other men

 in the Red Keep, but none wore it as well as Prince Hugh to her

 mind. And his courtesies, if not as polished and adroit as others,

 were something she was sure every maid who had tilted their minds

 towards ensnaring him cared little for.

 In fact, the opposite was the case she was sure, Prince Hugh's

 slightly artless approach to the finer points of etiquette enamoured

 many and provided a delightful challenge to numerous maiden

 daughters and their scheming mothers alike.

 Tyshara in particular seemed adroit at engaging the rather taciturn

 Prince in conversations, said conversations often taking quite the

 risqué bent, and her boldest daughter seemed to be not in the

 slightest bit embarrassed by any of it.

 And it was not just at organised events that she conspired to meet

 up with Prince Hugh, she and her daughters, and an increasing

 number of other unwed maidens and ladies were congregating to

 watch the men practice at swords or a morning. Though Prince Hugh

was 'no great shakes at the tilt' according to Ser Garrel, he did admit

 that Prince Hugh was a 'devil with that hammer and shield of his'.

 And his warmup and warm down exercises were as popular, if not

 more so, that his actual practice fights, for the Prince tended to

 remove his shirt and gambeson respectively for these.

 Prince Hugh's torso was corded and bulging with muscles, his

 shoulders broad, his chest deep, and he made many of the other

 men look like children beside him. Those images of Ser Hugh

 stripped to the waist were a familiar companion to her in her private

 moments, and nigh on every night she brought herself to shuddering,

 glorious peaks with her fingers at the thoughts of Prince Hugh.

 Despite her desires, despite her wants, she knew Prince Hugh was

 likely beyond her, and that it would by her daughter Tyshara who

 would enjoy the physical attentions of Prince Hugh, and this thought

 made her resent Tyshara with a sour hatred.

 But she had to think of her House first and foremost, and of her own

 selfish desires second. House Lannister needed to recover its

 prestige and it needed to deal with the Ironborn, and Prince Hugh fit

 the bill on both of those respects.

 The Iron Throne showed no signs of committing forces to defend the

 Westerlands, possibly as a petty insult for their recent position in the

 war, but also because of the harsh winter that had descended upon

 Westeros.

 But a dragon, even a single one like Vermithor, roosting in Casterly

 Rock? That would deter the Ironborn, and if it did not, the beast

 would burn those savages to ash. And if it took her daughter's

 honour to achieve this, then so be it!

 Well, it would take a little bit more than that, support from others to

 smooth the path to the alter for the loving couple for one, and she

 was sure that Hugh would be besotted by Tyshara. A frank mother

daughter conversation and the provision of a Lyseni pillow book for

 Tyshara to study, along with some well learned advice on the most

sure-fire way to ensure a man's love and devotion. Though that had

 not stopped that oaf of a husband of hers from deserting her bed, no

 matter how many times she sucked his cock and swallowed his

 seed.

 All that coin she was distributing, all the coin she was making

 available to the Iron Throne to assist in the rebuilding of Kings

 Landing, all the coin she was providing to feed the city, all of that had

 a price, and the price was no opposition to the marriage of Prince

 Hugh and her daughter.

 Tysahra had barely batted an eyelid at the Lyseni pillow book, nor at

 her advice that the best use of her mouth was not for talking. But her

 daughter had insisted upon a very large dowry, one that she thought

 excessive, but then Tyshara did state plainly that no Lannister had

 ever wed a Prince of House Targaryen, so there was that. Also, she

 had insisted upon a substantial increase in her allowance, to be paid

 for the rest of her life, even if the marriage with Prince Hugh fell

 through for any reason, arguing that a failure and its public reveal

 would tarnish her reputation sufficiently, and that gold would in part

 make up for this remote eventuality.

 A smart enough set of demands which she had agreed to after only

 the barest minimum of consideration. At least the girl had her head

 screwed on somewhat securely, even if she had been childishly

 difficult over the matter of wearing inconspicuous clothing on the way

 to seduce her future husband.

 Her musings were interrupted by a maid suddenly entering the room

 where she was waiting and whispering urgently in her ear. It took all

 of her considerable willpower to neither gasp nor have her face twist

 in shock at what was said to her.

 Instead, she simply replied, "have Ser Garrel attend to me, then you

 may admit them to my presence."

 Her mind was racing, and her heart she could feel beating a wild

 tattoo in her chest, it appeared as if things had taken a rather

dramatic turn, but until she was in possession of all the facts she

 would have to refrain from acting. Then, she would see what her

 options were and act accordingly. What was it Ser Garrel had once

 said? Oh yes, 'no plan survives contact with the enemy', well on that

 it looked like the old knight was right.

 Ser Garrel entered her chambers, well dressed but with his sword

 belt strapped around him and a sheathed sword hanging from it. He

 looked worried and a glance from her confirmed his concerns, he

 stood behind and a step to the left of her seated form, his right hand

 resting on the pommel of his sword. She composed her face and

 asked that her visitors be allowed admittance to her.

 In strode Prince Hugh, Grand Maester Gerardys, though his title of

 Grand Maester had not been confirmed by the Citadel, he was

 referred to this in the Red Keep by order of the Iron Throne. And

 following them her daughter Tyshara and the servant chit who had

 set out with her, both looking chastened and embarrassed, both

 hanging their heads and avoiding eye contact.

 She steeled herself and said, "Prince Hugh, Grand Maester, what

 brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

 "I think you know very well enough my Lady," came the reply from

 Prince Hugh, his voice strained as if he was keeping it under a tight

 control. The Prince seemed very, very angry, has she misjudged him,

 was he not interested in girls, was he a sword swallower? If he was it

 was such a dammed shame, what a waste of a fine man…

 "I do not Prince Hugh," she replied frostily, deciding to play this out

 as long as she could, the Prince might slip up and give her valuable

 information that way.

 "You do….. do not play coy with me Lady Johanna. Your daughter

 Tyshara was found naked in my bed not twenty minutes ago by I and

 the Grand Maester. I doubt that your daughter, lovely and all that she

 is, would be able to make her way from here to my quarters

 undetected, or unaided, to artfully drape herself naked atop the

blankets of my bed. And if she did, then you have even bigger

 problems than I think you have….."

 "Rather convenient that the Grand Maester was with you my Prince,

 do you not think?"

 Before Prince Hugh could reply said Grand Maester interrupted, "I

 examined the girl, with the servant wench present. Your daughter is

 missing her maidenhead, but there is no evidence that this was a

 recent thing, nor was there any evidence of sexual activity on her

 part, no blood or seed was present within you daughters'

 womanhood."

 "Tell Lady Johanna why you were with me," Prince Hugh said in an

 exasperated tone, clearly having been surprised that the Grand

 Maester would divulge such information without prompting.

 "Oh, yes, that! Well, Prince Hugh is quite the, well polymath, he

 apparently is quite learned in High Valyrian1 and he wanted to draw

 my attention to something he had recently read, wanting to check on

 his translations. You see the empire of Old Ghis was apparently in

 possession of a material called 'pourstone', whose exact qualities

 and properties has long been hotly debated in the Citadel. Prince

 Hugh has brought to my attention that some of the reasons for the

 confusion over the properties of pourstone is due to that fact that

 there may very well be several types of this substance, and not a

 singular substance as we previously believed. His Grace has also

 made a, to my mind at least, a very valid case for the ingredients of

 pourstone and how to apply its usage to construction. The empire of

 Old Ghis used the substance quite widely, if the records are to be

 believed, though it did somewhat fall out of use for fortifications due

 to its vulnerability to dragonfire. But it retained its popularity in civilian

 building, in fact documents in the possession of the Citadel would

 indicate that its popularity actually increased as time went on, and it

 was in use right up until the end of the empire. Strangely enough,

 there is little evidence of the Freehold taking up the use of flowstone,

 despite its…"

"Thank you Grand Maester, for enlightening Lady Johanna on our

 endeavours…..I asked the Grand Maester to carry out his

 examination of your daughter, so as there could be no mistaking, no

 uncertainties," Prince Hugh interrupted the Grand Maester, who was

 obviously intending to bore them all to death with his diatribe on this

 so called 'pourstone'.

 "Lady Tyshara, return to your quarters at once, you, maid, you may

 leave us, and do not think to repeat anything of what you saw here,"

 at this she made a slight gesture to Ser Garrel, who fished out a

 silver stag from his purse and tossed it to the wench, who caught the

 coin handily enough. She would bear watching this one, and

 probably more than watching, as she was a lose end that very

 definitely needed tidying up. She would arrange for that immediately

 after this rather unpleasant business was dealt with to as much

 satisfaction as she could extract from it.

 "What do you want Prince Hugh?" she asked, her voice steady and

 level, refusing to be cowed.

 Prince Hugh nodded his head at the Grand Maester, who bowed to

 him and her and then left the room, Hugh's eyes resting on Ser

 Garrel.

 "He stays, I trust him to hear and know everything."

 "Nothing will be said of this…..incident, ever. This will remain a

 secret between you and me."

 "And in return for your secrecy?"

 "There, there are certain facts that have recently come to my

 attention, facts that demand action on my part, and I need support

 for what I will have to do."

 "Marry Tyshara, I'll give you all the gold in the Rock and every sword

 the Westerlands possess!"

"No, that you will not get, had you not tried this stunt, maybe, but

 after this no. I have already been somewhat instrumental in your

 kinsman Ser Tyland Lannister being released and pardoned, and

 that is the limit of my forbearance. You must learn your lesson, and

 the cost of said lesson is my hand in marriage to your daughter,

 beautiful and all that she is."

 "I have a younger daughter, Cerelle, just as fair as Tyshara, and

 budding quite nicely…."

 "No, but I may be able to arrange for a suitable marriage for one of

 your daughters."

 "Who?"

 "Not for now Lady Johanna, give me your pledge of support and

 this," here he made a gesture to the room, "need never have

 happened. Your daughter retains her honour, and nothing is ever

 said of her discovery naked and already long deflowered in my bed."

 "I want the curse of the Ironborn lifted from the Westerlands," she

 replied, refusing to further drawn on her failed plan, it was time to

 move on and extract as much advantage as she could now.

 "As do I, but that is not within my gift to give."

 "What exactly do you want me to do?"

 "Someday soon, I will call upon you to do me a service, to throw the

 lot of House Lannister and the Westerlands behind me, but until that

 day, accept the gift of your daughters honour."