Chapter 15: The Lion at the Gates: A Meeting of Predators
The arrival of Tywin Lannister's host was not a subtle affair. It was a calculated projection of power, a river of crimson and gold flowing towards the gates of King's Landing. Ten thousand Westermen, disciplined, impeccably equipped, their armor gleaming under the Westerosi sun, marched with the precision of a well-oiled machine. At their head rode Lord Tywin himself, a figure of cold, imposing authority, his golden lion banner snapping proudly in the breeze. He was flanked by his brothers, Ser Kevan and Tygett Lannister, and a retinue of his most powerful bannermen. It was a clear statement: House Lannister had arrived, and it expected to be taken seriously.
Robar had ensured King's Landing presented an equally formidable, if different, facade. The city gates, now under the firm control of his Stormblade Cohort, opened smoothly to admit the Lannister vanguard. The streets leading to the Red Keep were clean, orderly, and lined not with cheering crowds (Robar had no use for manufactured adulation yet), but with disciplined Baratheon soldiers and Gold Cloaks, their presence a silent testament to the new Lord Protector's grip on the capital. BCR banners, with their stark, crowned stag on a field of black and gold (a new design Robar had commissioned, blending his house colors with the color of his primary obsession), flew alongside the traditional Baratheon stag, a subtle but clear message of the new economic power at play.
The formal reception was held in the Red Keep's main courtyard. Robar stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, not in armor, but in a severe, well-cut black tunic of fine wool, devoid of ostentation save for a single, heavy gold signet ring on his finger – the new seal of Baratheon Consolidated Resources. Stannis was at his side, equally severe, holding a portfolio of what appeared to be official documents. Ser Jaime Lannister, his Kingsguard cloak notably absent, replaced by a fine crimson doublet, stood a pace behind them, his expression a carefully constructed mask of neutrality that barely concealed his cynical amusement. This was a deliberate placement – Jaime, a Lannister, yet clearly aligned with the new power.
Lord Tywin dismounted, his movements precise, his gaze sweeping the courtyard, taking in every detail – the discipline of Robar's men, the BCR banners, the demeanor of his own son. His face, famously unexpressive, betrayed nothing of his thoughts. He was a man carved from granite and gold, radiating an aura of immense wealth and implacable will.
"Lord Baratheon," Tywin Lannister's voice was a low, powerful baritone, devoid of warmth but resonant with authority. "You have been… industrious." It was not a compliment, merely an observation.
"Lord Lannister," Robar inclined his head fractionally, a gesture of acknowledgement between equals, not deference. "Welcome to King's Landing. Or, as I prefer to call it, BCR Capital Branch, Westeros Division. We trust your journey was… profitable?"
A flicker of something – surprise? Annoyance? – crossed Tywin's eyes at the unconventional greeting, but it was gone in an instant. "My journey was as expected, Lord Baratheon. I find the city… changed."
"Change is the cornerstone of progress, Lord Tywin," Robar replied smoothly. "And progress is the foundation of profit. Shall we discuss the future prospects of this… recently restructured enterprise? I have reserved the Iron Throne room for our consultation. Though, you will find its primary asset currently unoccupied. Pending a strategic review, of course."
The sheer audacity of Robar's tone, his confident appropriation of the symbols of power, was not lost on Tywin. The old lion's gaze lingered on Jaime for a moment, a silent question in his eyes, before he gave a curt nod. "Lead the way, Lord Baratheon."
The throne room was imposing, yet Robar had made subtle alterations. The Targaryen banners were gone, replaced by massive Baratheon and BCR standards. The Iron Throne itself loomed, empty and stark. Robar did not ascend it. Instead, a large, polished mahogany table and several comfortable, high-backed chairs had been arranged before it – a boardroom setup, not a royal court.
Robar took the seat at the head of the table, gesturing for Tywin to take the chair opposite. Ser Kevan Lannister and Stannis took seats beside their respective kinsmen. Jaime remained standing near a window, an observer to this clash of titans.
"Before we discuss future synergies, Lord Tywin," Robar began, his voice all business, "let us address the recent… management transition. King Aerys Targaryen, as you may have surmised, has been relieved of his duties due to extreme executive incompetence and a dangerous propensity for asset destruction. He is currently under secure and comfortable medical supervision." A euphemism, and both men knew it. "The city was on the brink of a catastrophic event, orchestrated by him. My intervention was… timely and necessary to prevent the total loss of a prime metropolitan asset."
Tywin listened, his expression unreadable. "And the Royal Family? Queen Rhaella? Prince Viserys?"
"Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys, regrettably, had already departed Dragonstone some weeks prior to my intervention in King's Landing," Robar lied smoothly. He knew from Robert's memories and his GoT lore they were likely there, but claiming ignorance served his purposes for now. Dragonstone was another asset to be acquired later. "My primary concern was the immediate threat within the capital."
"A threat that my son, Ser Jaime, apparently assisted you in neutralizing?" Tywin's gaze shifted to Jaime, cold and appraising.
Before Jaime could speak, Robar interjected. "Ser Jaime acted with commendable pragmatism and a clear concern for the welfare of King's Landing's populace when faced with irrefutable evidence of his King's madness. His assistance in securing the Red Keep and preventing further bloodshed was… invaluable. He is currently a highly valued consultant to my administration." Robar was subtly claiming Jaime, turning him from a potential Lannister bargaining chip into an asset already aligned with BCR.
Tywin's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. This Robert Baratheon was nothing like the drunken, whoring lout he had been led to expect. This was a different beast entirely – cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of the passions that had driven the old Robert.
"The stability of the realm is paramount, Lord Baratheon," Tywin stated, his voice like the grating of gold coins. "Aerys's madness was a cancer. Your… surgery… may have been necessary. But what follows? Anarchy? A protracted war for a vacant throne? That is bad for commerce. Bad for the Westerlands. Bad for everyone."
"Anarchy is the antithesis of profit, Lord Tywin," Robar agreed. "My objective is to establish a stable, efficient, and prosperous Westeros. A Westeros managed with sound business principles, where investment is encouraged, and returns are maximized. Baratheon Consolidated Resources is not merely a war machine; it is the blueprint for a new Westeros." He leaned forward. "I am offering House Lannister a significant stake in this new enterprise. A partnership."
"A partnership?" Tywin raised a golden eyebrow. "What sort of partnership, Lord Baratheon?"
"A merger of key assets," Robar stated plainly. "Your daughter, the Lady Cersei, is renowned for her beauty and intelligence. A marriage between her and myself would solidify an alliance between our Houses, uniting the Stormlands and the Westerlands, two of the most powerful economic and military blocs in the Seven Kingdoms. It is a strategically sound consolidation." He spoke of Cersei as if she were a prime piece of real estate, a valuable subsidiary to be acquired.
Tywin's lips thinned. He was used to being the one to dictate terms, especially in matters of marriage. "My daughter is a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Her value is… considerable."
"Indeed," Robar conceded. "And BCR is prepared to meet that valuation. Beyond the marriage, I offer House Lannister preferential trade agreements, joint ventures in resource exploitation – I understand the gold mines of Casterly Rock are legendary, but even legendary assets can benefit from BCR's advanced extraction and management techniques. Furthermore, a man of your… extensive experience and proven administrative capabilities would be an invaluable addition to my new Small Council. Perhaps as Hand of the King, once the formalities of my ascension are concluded?"
This was a bold offer. Hand of the King was the second most powerful position in the realm. Tywin had held it once under Aerys, before their bitter falling out. Robar was offering him a path back to immense power, but on Robar's terms.
The old lion was silent for a long moment, his pale green eyes, flecked with gold, boring into Robar. He was weighing the offer, assessing the man who made it. He saw not a passionate rebel, but a ruthless pragmatist, a man who spoke his own language of power and profit, albeit with a new, almost alien vocabulary.
"And what of Aerys?" Tywin finally asked. "His continued existence, even under 'medical supervision,' is a loose end. A rallying point for his loyalists."
Robar nodded. "A liability that needs to be managed. I propose a formal, public trial. Let the realm hear the full extent of his crimes, his madness, his intent to burn this city. Let his condemnation be a public spectacle, a clear message that the old, corrupt regime is finished. And perhaps," Robar added, a dangerous glint in his eye, "the Lord of Casterly Rock, whose family suffered grievously at Aerys's command when he named your son to the Kingsguard against your wishes, might wish to have a prominent role in delivering the final verdict? Justice, after all, can also be a profitable enterprise, in terms of public sentiment." He was offering Tywin a chance to publicly humiliate his old enemy and cement his own family's triumph.
This, Robar knew, would appeal to Tywin's infamous pride and his desire for Lannister dominance.
Jaime, from his position by the window, let out a barely audible chuckle, quickly suppressed. His father's expression remained impassive, but Robar's Haki sensed a subtle shift, a spark of cold interest.
"Your terms are… comprehensive, Lord Baratheon," Tywin said at last. "Ambitious. You propose not just a rebellion, but a complete overhaul of the realm's governance and economy."
"A necessary overhaul, Lord Tywin," Robar corrected. "The previous model was bankrupt. BCR offers a path to solvency. And immense profit, for its key shareholders."
"And if House Lannister were to find your terms… insufficient?" Tywin asked, his voice soft, yet carrying the weight of the Westerlands' armies.
Robar leaned back in his chair, his expression unyielding. "Then House Lannister would be choosing to oppose the inevitable rise of a new market leader. A strategically unwise decision, fraught with considerable risk and potential depreciation of Lannister assets. BCR is prepared for all market conditions, including hostile competition." He let his own power, the subtle thrum of Whitebeard's Haki, fill the space between them. It was not an overt threat, but a calm statement of capability. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Ser Kevan shifted uneasily.
Tywin Lannister held Robar's gaze for a long, silent moment. He saw no fear, no bravado, only an unnerving certainty. He saw a man who had deposed a king, seized his capital, and now spoke of reshaping kingdoms as if they were entries on a balance sheet. He saw a predator of a kind he had never encountered before.
Finally, a very faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Tywin's lips. It was not a smile of warmth, but of recognition. Of one apex predator acknowledging another.
"A marriage alliance," Tywin stated, "between House Lannister and the future King of Westeros has… merit. My daughter Cersei will, of course, require assurances befitting her station. And the terms of our economic partnership, and my role within your administration, will require further, detailed negotiation."
Robar inclined his head. "Naturally. My BCR financial team is prepared to draft the preliminary agreements. I believe we can find a mutually profitable arrangement, Lord Tywin."
The old lion rose. "I will require suitable accommodations for myself and my retainers. And I wish to speak with my son. Alone."
"Of course," Robar gestured to one of his aides. "Lord Lannister and his party will be given the Tower of the Hand for their residence. Ser Jaime, you may accompany your father."
As Tywin Lannister swept from the room, his crimson cloak swirling behind him, Robar watched him go. The first negotiation had been a success. The Lannister lion had not been tamed, but it had been brought to the bargaining table, enticed by the irresistible lure of power and profit.
The merger was proceeding. The new Westeros Inc. was taking shape, one ruthless deal at a time.
Word Count: Approx. 3050 words