Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

 Being faced with several unappetising choices was often what one

 had to deal with and having unfortunate experience in this did not

 really make dealing with them any easier. The Stormlands, hacked

 down in size to make way for the new so called Thronelands, was in

 a state of crisis and partial open revolt.

 Many of the Lords were unhappy with the turn of events after the end

 of the war, seeing for one the lack of Small Council seats compared

 to the Reach as an abject failure on her part. That many of these

 'Lords' were second or third sons, or even cousins or brothers of the

 former Lords, did not seem to have made them cautious about their

 positions. On the contrary, this newest crop of Lords seemed to be

 as bad, if not worse, than the many who had been incinerated in

 what some were calling the 'forest of fires'.

 Add to this those dammed Dornish cunts who of course were up to

 their old tricks of raiding into the Marches and causing problems for

 all concerned. The winter weather in the Marches was mild enough,

 in fact it was perfect for growing crops, and if not for the Dronish the

 Marches would have been able to provide a significant surplus of

 food for the years of this winter. And this surplus would have

 provided tax revenue to fill the dangerously empty coffers of House

 Baratheon, emptied by her husband's spending during the war and

 by her hiring three thousand northern cavalry to help defend the

 Marches.

 These northern men should be arriving in the upper Marches about

 now, and she had hired them for the duration of winter, at decent

 enough rates it had to be said, Lord Stark had not gouged her like

 some of the mercenary companies that she had approached initially

 had.

 And many of these northmen were second and third sons, or the

 equivalent of landless knights, many could be expected to settle in

the Marches as opposed to travelling back north at the end of winter.

 Many was the Marcher daughter or even widow that would find

 herself a northern husband, like many Riverlander women had

 apparently.

 But what she really needed was a decent sized military force to drive

 back the Dornish and more importantly dissuade them from raiding

 in the first place.

 And there was really no available force in Westeros for that, most of

 the military force of the Stormlands was dust and ash, burnt alive by

 Vermithor and Seasmoke, mercenaries were in short supply due to

 the wars wracking Essos as the Three Daughters tore themselves

 apart.

 This left her really with no other option than dragons, and in reality

 one dragon, Vermithor, and its rider Prince Hugh. The other dragons

 were too small, and ridden by the royal children, so they were out,

 Ser Addam and his dragon Seasmoke were under the control of the

 Lord Regent, and Lord Corlys was unlikely to let her have use of this

 dragon, or its rider for that matter.

 Added to this fact that none of her three daughters seemed to have

 the slightest bit of interest in Ser Addam as a potential husband, not

 that she could really blame them. The boy suffered in comparison as

 he was neither the King, nor Prince Hugh.

 Of the King her daughters had a reasonable interest in, especially

 Cassandra, who dreamed, no, dreamed was probably too weak a

 word….lusted, yes lusted after being Queen. She had intervened on

 more than one occasion to restrain the girl from her more foolish

 plots and notions, and the more she thought about it the more she

 knew that she had to marry Cassandra outside of the immediate

 court, if only to curb her predilection to engage in court intrigues. A

 marriage to a Lord far from Kings Landing would be best, and

 probably to an older Lord with children already…..she would think

 further on this matter.

Ellyn and Floris were, she had to say, only mildly interested in the

 King's hand, both, especially Ellyn, seemed much more interested in

 Prince Hugh as a husband, though Ellyn seemed to be equally

 interested in teasing every boy she met with her ample teats. Floris

 liked the Prince, of that she was sure, given the way she would blush

 at the mention of his name and how she was often coy and shy

 around the Prince when they met him, unlike her two older sisters,

 who were not shy about being very, very forwards with Prince Hugh.

 She had even considered approaching Prince Hugh herself and

 offering him the position of Lord Protector of the Stromlands until her

 son Royce came of age. With his dragon he would scour the

 Marches of the Dornish, able to react to their raids and potentially

 burn them with impunity.

 But the lure of having a dragon to deal with the raids of the Dornish

 was she knew secondary to her desire for Prince Hugh, and it was

 desire she knew, a woman's desire, that drew her to considering re

marrying so soon after the death of her husband Lord Borros.

 He had not been a cruel man, nor had he ever struck her, and he

 had never strayed from her bed to seek comforts in the arms of

 another woman during their marriage. Borros had been many things,

 uncultured, somewhat uncouth, illiterate, but he was not stupid

 enough to risk the pleasures he received in his marriage bed. Her

 mother had taught her well, for while what resided between a

 woman's legs was a source of power, it was with her mouth that a

 woman would often rule her husband. Both in what she said and

 what she did with her mouth, and how even the most angry and

 stubborn of men could be brought around with the proper application

 to their pillar of lips and tongue.

 Borros had never been able to deny her when she truly wanted

 something, and he had been much more amenable to discussions

 and talks about the Stormlands and their ruling after a good draining

 of his stones into her belly.

She was sure that Prince Hugh would be the same, but she was

 equally sure that the Lord Regent would never allow her to marry

 Prince Hugh, he would never allow such power as represented by

 Vermithor to slip away from his and the Iron Throne's grasp, despite,

 or maybe because of the fact his family had a dragon of their own.

 But one of her daughters? The Lord Regent would find it more

 difficult to block that, not that he would not try, Lord Corlys had little

 love lost for House Baratheon it seemed.

 House Lannister was still much in evidence around the Red Keep,

 the two Lannister daughters busy trying to outshine every other maid

 and corner two of the three most eligible men available. That they

 appeared to be having little success despite their lavish spending

 was at least something to be grateful for, many would have thought

 that the Lannister chits would long be married off already, based

 solely on the amount of coin the Lannister's were able to bring to

 bear.

 And the very fact that Princess Jaehaera still lived was as much a

 testament to the skill of whomever Lord Corlys had assigned to

 protecting the girl as it was to the support the girl had among the

 Reach lords, chief among them Lord Ormund Hightower, Hand of the

 King.

 A rather ruthless bastard that one was, and she trusted him not one

 whit, and she knew that a showdown between Lord Corlys and Lord

 Ormund was inevitable, and probably at most a few weeks away. It

 might be wise to temporarily leave the Red Keep along with her

 daughters, just to be on the safe side, though this might draw undue

 attention to House Baratheon, both before and in the aftermath,

 when scapegoats and patsies would need to be found.

 No, probably best to stay, though she would dispatch a raven asking

 for more Knights and Men at Arms from Storms End to be

 dispatched with all haste to her, for she feared greatly that the Red

 Keep would once again drip with blood like it did during the Day of

 Fire and Blood.

Her musings were disturbed by her captain of guards, announcing

 that Prince Hugh was here to see her.

 Despite everything her heart went into a flutter, and she struggled to

 compose herself for a second or two, before he bid the captain of

 guards admit Prince Hugh to her presence.

 The man himself entered a minute later, handsome in a brutal

 looking way, as opposed to the almost unearthly way that others of

 the Old Blood did, the influence of his smallfolk blood diluting the

 magic of the Valyrian blood he possessed no doubt.

 Still, she would not refuse him into her bed, for all that…..

 After the required curtsy from her and bow from him she spoke,

 resisting the very, very great temptation to purr like some satisfied

 mountain lioness confronting her prey. "Prince Hugh, what brings

 you here to see me? Should I call for my daughters, or mayhaps only

 one of them?"

 In spite of everything she delighted in this teasing, noticing the

 slightest of flushes cross the Prince's face. He was dressed in what

 had become his usual garb, a double-breasted coat, which was

 apparently called a 'sack coat', trousers and boots. The very fine,

 dark felted wool the coat was made from was edged at the collar and

 cuffs with yellow, a yellow silk sash was wrapped around his waist, a

 yellow seam ran down the outside of his black trousers. She could

 not help but notice the colours and their potential meaning, and she

 felt her heart race once more.

 "I have need of House Baratheon's backing, the truth about certain

 matters relating to the end of the war have been made available to

 me, and I wish to put them right."

 Inside her mind it churned with the possibilities, of what the Prince

 really meant, and did this mean that one of her daughters would be

 Queen? Or a Princess?

"Your House is in dire need of allies, and I am in need of its support

 and its arms, if needed. Pick me a wife from among your

 daughters…."

 She did not hesitate for even a second. "Lady Floris, my youngest,

 would make the best wife for your Grace."

 "Done." Came the equally swift and decisive reply, the Prince's face

 shadowed by a strong will striving to keep its true emotions hidden.

 "Should, should I call for my daughters to announce the good

 news?" she asked, letting the smallest hints of triumph lift her voice.

 "No, this is between you and me for now. Do not spread word of this,

 or there will be….unfortunate consequences…."

 She knew a threat when she heard one, so she bowed her head, "of

 course your Grace."

 "I will let you know what is needed of House Baratheon at a later

 stage, in the meantime do not give our enemies cause to suspect

 anything."

 "Yes your Grace," and with that Prince Hugh made his apologies and

 departed.

 Well now, was that not a rather unexpected turn of events, a

 daughter betrothed to a Prince no less! And with barely any cost or

 effort expended, for the Prince himself had come direct to her.

 Though the actual price in reality would be high, for it looked like

 Prince Hugh was making a bid for the Iron Throne himself. And was

 that not a bad idea, given all the unpleasantries they had just

 endured?

 She pondered this in her mind, the balance of forces involved were

 different, all the parties involved were concentrated in the Red Keep

 or Kings Landing…..she would ask Storms End for triple the men

she had originally considered and have them make absolute haste to

 the Red Keep.

 But in the meantime, while she could not tell Floris of her impending

 nuptials, there was nothing stopping her from preparing the girl for

 life as a wife. And in particular in preparing her in the arts necessary

 to cleave her husband ever more tightly to her and bind him with the

 pleasurable work of tongue and mouth.