Casterly Rock, Seat of House Lannister

"I have to ride to Darry, soon, ser Massey, and make amends with my uncle Edmure Tully"

Said Red Walder.

"But, once that is dealt with I'll bend my knee to your king, even if it's kinda worthless, still something, I guess"

A raven:

The procession which approached the Rock was of no great size, riders not two-score strong bearing aloft the family sigil of House Lefford. At its heart came three carriages, glinting with gaudy wealth. Within the lead sat Lady Alysanne, her back straight and head fixated forward. She was widowed now, though passed the traditional stage of mourning. In place of a lord husband rode a champion, his sigil of a rare and base stock, the kind known for bloody work and not chivalric virtue. Indeed many of her family's sworn swords had fallen in recent years, retainers beneath her seat of the Golden Tooth, her husband to the northmen at Whispering Wood, her own father to the Riverlords at Riverrun. The count of her family was now greatly diminished, and with her bastard brother alive and stalking the wilderness she had taken measures to return strength to the Lefford banner.

As the company closed with the great seat of the Lions, the nature of Alysanne's guard became more noticeable. They were not of the thrice-knighted families which followed Lord Leo against the rivermen, nor the landed chivalry whose swords drew with her husbands' against the northmen, but men whose notion of knighthood was a better sword to kill. Their rainment was common, armour spared from filigree and ornament, horses freshly saddled with eyes yet deadened to the sights of war. But their faces were scarred, hands calloused, and eyes darting. They were the serjeants and yeomen and wandering second sons, men of violence for a time of war, now pledged eternal service to her person, and to walk her safely into the den of the Lion was their first trial.

Her champion would make her intentions known, come to pledge fealty to the new lord of Casterly Rock.

The young lady of the Golden Tooth offered a shallow curtsie, rigid in its formality. It had been a long time since she had made the long journey to the heart of her liege's domain, before the bastard had been sent into exile. A girl then, barely, younger than the boy she now called lord. Alysanne had never dreamed of Lannister riches as her sisters, nor of their golden boys. Yet even now she could grasp at what it was that drew them. Looking at that youth who called himself lion, the lady of Lefford hoped that her son would live to see such an age and three times it, her sole remaining child that had been left to the care of her family's maester. But he will sit with more authority at his command, she promised, more than I ever could. It was a cruel thought that he would do so easily, being of her blood. The lion before her had not been born to rule as her heir was.

"House Lefford has given long and leal service to Casterly Rock," she began in reply. "With the lost bones of my late husband and father as my witness, I have come to reaffirm that service." Though the words were true enough, they sounded distant, as if she were reading the letters from another. Once she would have had a smile for the lord, a bemused manner to relax all in attendance. She knew herself now. "And to see that these lands which have suffered so greatly are returned to prosperity in a manner befitting the Houses of the West."

Stannis. He was not a man most would want to defy, that unloved brother of Robert. But Tywin had. The men of her house had answered the call, and had her father not been slain by Rivermen then the burning bridge of Kings Landing would have been his glory. But we are not dealing with Tywin, she allowed herself the horrifying prospect that was her smile. No, now the West sat as a boy unknowing of the power that was his.

"Stannis has never been known for his generosity in friendship," the lady of the Tooth began. "What debt is owed that the rightful lord sits the Rock?" Her eyes darted from man to boy and back. "Would caution not be of more merit, that eyes fixated on Stannis not be drawn to us?"

The Rock sat as it did upon the western coast, a monument to the glory of the people that would call the land home. And yet despite it, the land stretched far to the east, and it would be those people who faced the wrath of Stannis' enemies. The Stark boy had found a way past the Golden Tooth even as it commanded an army. What if others had learned of it? And Tywin is gone.

"The Golden Tooth continues to see refugees from the riverlands, tales of fighting and banditry still ongoing. And what of the ironborn?" Her voice, no kind octave to hear, seemed absent of emotion. "I merely think we allow Stannis to prove that his reign will not cause us debts we cannot afford to return."

Alysanne listened to the words, to the will that spoke them. To someone else it would have sounded like fear, base cowardice. But no, it was something that all nobles learned to accept: crass pragmatism. That was a language she understood, and in time had come to enjoy. There was a truth in it that even zealotry could not match.

"My lord of Lannister, loyalty is twice blessed, for it reflects the nature of the servant and the master. If it is your will that Stannis be made king then you must pursue it will all due energy. The other lords of the west will see your virtue standing plain of that I do not doubt. My contention is that you remember that it is the might of the Lion which decided the fate of his crown, and not the other way round." She smiled, a thing of mockery to others of its kind. "For these northern lords are not like to acknowledge it."

Her eyes rose to take in, for what seemed the first time, the chamber in which she was having her audience. A thoughtful look, or vacant to some, danced on her features. "If it would please you, I would like to remain here, if only for a short spell before you must make Stannis your king. I have been pondering matters," she hesitated, cutting herself off so that the word breathed through the tapestries. "Matters of prosperity that might make for discussion at a more opportune moment."

One day the Sailfish, House Botley's largest and grandest remaining longship after the Silverfin was sunk in battle with the forces of the Reach, docks at Lannisport ahead of the Iron Fleet remnants assigned to the new Lord of Lordsport. Tristifer Botley himself spends only a day in Lannisport before taking off for Casterly Rock, seeking a joint war council with the new master of the Westerlands and his generals.