The Revolution of Westeros: How an Engineer Views Plebeians
Roses, Krakens, and Wolves
It had been nine years since the war that destroyed the Targaryen dynasty. People had taken, secretly, to their plotting of restorations, but for some it wasn't enough. Action was called for by the hearts of angry men, and none other wanted action like Mace Tyrell.
He had been humiliated, deeply humiliated, when the overly long siege of Storm's End resulted in nothing. The beloved dynasty, the House that gave his family such prominence, had been reduced to nigh nothing. It didn't sit right with him to have to bend to some usurper on the throne.
Yet, what was Mace to do? He couldn't outright rebel, otherwise the might of the other Six Kingdoms would rip apart his house and the Reach. It would be bloody if the king found his plots and brought his hammer down upon him. No, Mace was stuck in the never-ending struggle that was being unable to do anything. So, when an opportunity came knocking, he took it.
How the Greyjoys even concocted this scheme, he'd never know. However, when they came looking for someone to stand aside, he saw something. He saw opportunity. Surely, the Iron Born would fail. Even so, their rebellion could potentially drain the resources of the Seven Kingdoms, thus allowing for an easier restoration. All he had to do was nothing, and Mace Tyrell was the master of the art of doing nothing.
The terms were atrocious, really. The Iron Born offered nothing except that they wouldn't raid the shores of the Reach anymore if the Tyrells and the Reach would not join the war. He should have denied them, but Lord Tyrell, in his infinite stupidity, accepted the deal.
It was sad really; how terrible Mace was at the Game. He thought himself intelligent, crafty, and wise. Yet, he was anything but those attributes. Thus, through his actions his family would lose any chance at Margaery sitting on the Iron Throne in the Baratheon dynasty. Though, in another way, his actions would unknowingly be the saving grace for his family and the Reach.
Olenna knew that something was happening when she returned from her visit to House Fossoway. She had gone there in order to take stock of the surrounding areas and keep check of the political climate in the Reach. She had returned from this routine trip, and she took notice of how her son, Mace, had yet to greet her.
This was worrying. Her son being busy enough to not come meet his mother? That must mean he was either in an important meeting, likely one that she should have been notified of, or he was scheming. Both were terrible, absolutely horrific possibilities. Her son, in all of his inability to play the Game, was one of the greatest dangers to this family. For this reason, she was the one that handled most of the true political discussions that had to do with the Reach. Well, she didn't always do it openly, but she ensured that Mace said what she wanted him to say.
As she went to the gardens to sit for a while and gather her thoughts, she noticed a man leaving from the direction of Mace's solar. Curious, he didn't have the look of a Reachman. In fact, he looked more like… more like an Iron Born. They had a certain arrogance and swagger that was hard to place on any other subject of the Seven Kingdoms.
This was quite suspicious. The Reach had many issues with the Iron Islands, so why would her son have someone of such a deplorable realm in her, ahem, their home of Highgarden? She would need to speak with her grandchildren that had been present these past few weeks, Willas and Margaery. Willas was observant, unlike his father, and Margaery, well, she was her pupil, the apple of Olenna's eye. More than that, Margaery had a certain maturity about her. She had only reached her tenth nameday, yet she carried herself as a woman grown. At times, Olenna could see the obvious pain in her eyes, as if she thought that only terrible tragedy awaited her.
It would be the right course of action, she decided, to call them to the gardens so that they could speak of what had occurred during her absence. With that in mind, Olenna moved from the courtyard towards the gardens. Along the way, she had a servant call her grandchildren to her. It was time to see what Mace had done to her family.
Before she had awakened in her young body, all that Lady Margaery of House Tyrell could see was a disgusting, unnatural Green.
All she knew was Green.
That sickening color, the pain that lasted an instant. The realization, wildfire. What distasteful fool would stoop to such a terrible substance? Even now, she knew the answer. Cersei Lannister.
Cersei was a fool, a dangerous idiotic fool that would burn the world for her own selfish desires. Hers was the type of madness that would see the commoner and the highborn alike destroyed by the wheel of oppression.
When she awakened in this new world on the day of her seventh nameday, she had been frightened. How was she supposed to reconcile the fact that she had been murdered? How could she stomach the realization that she had died in a fiery grave, with those of her family, her family, with her, and she could do nothing about it? For days she had been distraught and withdrawn, yet she never told her family of the tale that was her first life, the culmination of their House playing the deadly Game of Thrones. For three years, her memories plagued her constantly.
It seemed as if the Gods had given her another chance in this new life. Yet, if the Gods were real would they have allowed their sept to burn? Would they have allowed their followers, commoners and highborns, to be burned in something as diabolical as Cersei destroying the Sept of Baelor with wildfire? Such thoughts nearly drove her mad.
Even so, Margaery had decided that Cersei would rue the day that she dared to manifest weapons against her and her family. No, in this new world, Cersei would not win. She would not have the satisfaction of murdering her family.
In this new life, Margaery knew that she had undergone change. Some things were different, and others were the same. Her thirst for dead Lannisters was proof of her change.
Yet, even with these hardships, Margaery still cared for the common people, not just because they were the voice of the mob and could be swayed ever so easily, but because they were people. Everyone needed someone to treat them with compassion. If the world had more people with her mindset, then maybe such vicious creatures, for they could not be human with their lack of love for anyone other than themselves, as Joffery and Cersei wouldn't exist?
Gods, the thought of Joffery being alive left a bad taste in her mouth. The disgusting little prick would get his comeuppance again, in due time.
Yet, Margaery noticed things in this reset that were strange. For one, the Greyjoy Rebellion had begun much later than she remembered. Was her presence, her miniscule change in the way she treated her family, as if they would one day die and she be unable to stop it, so large that it radiated out towards even such large events as rebellions and wars?
Margaery liked to think she wasn't arrogant. Well, not exactly that she wasn't arrogant, because everyone has a dash of arrogance at some point, and her being told repeatedly, even now, that she would be Queen had caused her to think more highly of herself than she ought to think. However, unlike Cersei, she knew that she couldn't control everything.
So, the idea that her presence had caused this shift? It was too much of a stretch to be true. Yet, if her presence was not the main difference, then what was?
Of one thing Margaery was certain, Cersei was still a bitch that needed to die. Yet how could one Rose of Highgarden be able to do such a thing when the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms still had the King as her shield? The rumors of the relationship between the Queen and her twin, which Margaery strongly suspected were true, were, at least, grounds for a war if the circumstances play out correctly. If such a thing played out again, then she would have to push her family into joining with the correct side. Maybe, in this new life, she could aid Sansa's brother? Sansa did speak much of her family, more specifically her brother Robb. Mayhaps it would be a beneficial arrangement?
Of one thing Margaery was not certain. Did she still want to be Queen? It had cost her life and the lives of her family in another time. Was it still worth it? Deep down she could say yes, but she felt as if the Lannisters and Baratheons would always lead to death for any who followed them. How could she be Queen if there were none who held a claim? The Starks could give her the revenge she craved, the revenge she desperately needed, yet what claim could they hold? If only a secret heir was hidden in the frozen lands of the North, yet it would be too much to wish for. She was not a fool. If the North held an heir to Iron Throne, the entire Seven Kingdoms would have known. Their honor was too stifling of their ability to play the Game. It was one of the reasons why Robb Stark had died in her first life.
That was one thing Margaery would seek to change. She owed it to Sansa. The poor girl didn't deserve the hand she was dealt.
But now, Margaery had to deal with the fact that her revenge may be much harder to gain. Her father, though she loved him dearly, had been found to be colluding with the Greyjoys behind Grandmother's back. It was dangerous, even more so because Margaery knew the Greyjoys would fail. That avenue was a terrible one that her father had decided to travel. She knew that nothing could come of this rebellion, it would only bring the remaining realms closer together. It angered her that her father had quite literally diminished, drastically, her chances at revenge on the Queen.
Part of her found it insane that she was plotting the downfall of the Queen when she had yet to attack House Tyrell, but she knew that the madness was still present in Cersei's heart. Even now people talked of how cruel the prince is, and how Queen Cersei took every word as an insult to her and her children.
No, Margaery knew that she was justified in her path. Even so, now she would have to live with what came from her father's blunder. She would plot. She was always plotting, and she would tear Cersei apart. If she couldn't do it herself, then she'd find others that could help her. But now, her priority was being the little Rose of Highgarden and hoping that her father hadn't created the ruin of her family.
Olenna was angry. No, she was furious. Her lackwitted son had gone and done the unthinkable. In his shortsightedness he had agreed with the damn Greyjoys to be non-aggressive in this rebellion. Well, they couldn't outright be caught. It was true that they could raise a number of excuses for their slowness to assemble, but the potential for the Throne to catch on and punish their House was quite high. With the Reach being so close to the Iron Islands, it wouldn't be hard for those snakes on the small council to figure out what was at play. Olenna knew that the King would find out after the rebellion failed.
She knew it would fail. One kingdom against six, or really one against five? The Iron Born would fail. They would go as lambs to the slaughter. Hopefully, when the crown found out, the Tyrells could avoid the worst of the ramifications. It was a dangerous thing that her son had done, and Olenna didn't know if they would be safe.
It wasn't like the Reach could even stop it anymore. The Greyjoys would certainly oust them for all that the Reach had agreed to do if they didn't uphold their end of the bargain. Now, her House was stuck between a rock island and an Iron Throne. Her son's actions shamed their House.
All she could do now was berate Mace. That, and pray that the Gods were kind to their family. Poor Margaery, this would drastically hurt her chances to be Queen. Many plans would have to be redrafted. All because her son could be bloody stupid when Olenna wasn't present.
Euron Greyjoy was in a pleasant mood when he returned to Pyke. The fat Tyrell had agreed to all of his terms, and it was a boon to the budding Rebellion that was just now underway. Even so, Euron knew that they would need more than a non-aggression pact from the Reach if they wanted to win this rebellion.
What they needed was a deep strike to the heartland of one of the kingdoms. Somewhere that no one would think could ever fall. He had a plan in mind, but he would first need to converse with his brother.
It left a bad taste in Euron's mouth. He never wanted to stoop to offer to not raid the shores of the Reach, but Balon had given him his word that after the war, the pact would be forgotten. They needed the Reach fleets to be complacent. That was their only chance at destroying the Royal Fleet. Afterwards, the Reach would be ripe for the Iron Born, and they would have all the plunder they wanted after the Throne was pushed back.
He was skeptical. The other kingdoms would be happy to rally around the King and come attack Pyke. He knew the Reach would join the fighting if the Iron Throne were to appear to be close to winning. They had to if they wanted the king to be lenient of their inaction, and that inevitability proved that this rebellion would most likely fail. So, he had approached his brother after informing him of his success at Highgarden with the Reach with a daring, nigh reckless plan.
"Wintefell?" Balon asked skeptically.
"Aye," Euron said with a slightly manic glint in his eye. The North would be the first to feel the Iron Born carve out their homelands and destroy all that they loved.
"You said that you have a plan that could potentially cause the North to falter in their war efforts? I fail to see how Winterfell could be included," Balon said as he stared at his brother with an incredulous look on his face.
"With the North calling their levvies to come here," Euron began, "it would seem suicide for Iron Born to go on the offensive. So," Euron said as he grinned a grin that showed how clearly insane he was to even suggest such an idea. "That is exactly what we will do. I'll lead a force of 600 men to Winterfell after the armies have left their centralized positions, and we will capture it."
Balon sat in contemplation for a few moments. "I see some promise in it, but how could we take it? We are Iron Born, we rule the seas, not land like the Greenlanders," Balon said as he pointed out one of the flaws in Euron's scheme.
"Aye," Euron said with a knowing look in his eye, "but we know enough. Climb walls, build engines to reach the gates. Easy shit. All of that is simple, yet it's the numbers that would be important. With 600 men marching fast to Winterfell after we make land in the northwest of the North, we can outnumber them completely."
"And what if they leave more men than you expect?" Balon asks, obviously doubting if Euron could pull something so outlandish off.
Euron scoffed, "leave more than I expect? How could they leave more than 100 men? What justification would be given for leaving so many resources behind? No, the Northerners are proud, they wouldn't take more than their best into this war. 600 men will be what takes Winterfell when the Northern army comes southward towards Pyke."
"The idea has merit," Balon said after spending time contemplating this scheme. "I'll give you leave to lead, but you will take my son, Maron, as your second in command." Euron nearly laughed at the obvious show of Balon not trusting him. Why else would he send Maron?
Euron grinned. This was shaping up to be an excellent time to be alive. The chance to stick it to the proud northerners? He lived for this type of action. "Of course brother," Euron said, "I'll be happy to take him along." 'All the easier to kill him with the rest of the fodder that will take Winterfell. Who needs him when Balon has another son?' Euron thought in perverse glee.
"Good," Balon said, seemingly unaware of his brother's thoughts. "Now, lets move on to discuss the fleet."
And so, the two brothers lost themselves in setting further into motion a scheme that would tear their House apart. Oh, how we pay for our avarice.
Jon Snow knew that war would eventually come in his lifetime. It was common for mankind to war with each other, so why should he expect anything other than a life full of war in this new world that he was in? War was a constant. It never changed whether he was on Earth or in Westeros. This was one reason why he had given his father the improved longbow regime to begin with.
To be fair, it would normally take years for longbowmen to train, but men grown being forced to pull a bow that could be used in a war? They trained hard because they knew their life might depend on it. So, as the levies were called, it was with great satisfaction that Jon knew all of the archers in this Northern host would be the best equipped in the Seven Kingdoms. The armor that the Iron Born wore? It would be useless when a volley of Northern arrows punched through it. The North would be the terror on the field, and oh, how Jon wished he had time to implement more training regimes to create an even more fearsome army.
Sadly, the Wolfsroad would be taking longer than Jon had expected. They had only just gotten to the edge of the Wolfswood, and he knew that they were behind schedule. The clearing that was required for the forest had taken longer than Jon thought it would, so only a few of the levies could use the road. The few that could, though, were much faster in their march. It would seem, then, that Jon's logistical foresight would be a welcome boon in years to come. This war, it seemed, would be the proving ground for some of his fledgling ideas.
Lord Stark having to join the battle caused Jon some worry. He knew that, likely, his father would survive due to his great ability at warfare, but how could he not be worried about him? It was war. A time to live and a time to die, that was what Eddard Stark was going towards. Jon prayed that this was the time for Eddard Stark to live. Not only because the man was his avenue to a better North, but because he had become a very trusted figure in Jon's life. The man was his greatest supporter, so it would be a major blow if he were to be taken too early from Jon's life.
As Lord Stark said his goodbyes to each of his children, Jon couldn't help but reflect on the potential the North would have if Eddard Stark remained Warden of the North and Jon could continue to shape this part of the Seven Kingdoms. First, and most importantly, was the fact that there was likely a goldmine near the river, Acorn Water. Jon knew this, yet he and his father had not been able to do anything yet. The fact that the sand had enough silica for the glass to be good enough for glass gardens proved that there was likely quartz nearby. Especially due to the painstaking efforts that they took to ensure that erosion wasn't a concern. They took sand starting in the smallest section and moving backwards along the river. This way of doing things allowed for them to continue in their glass making, and it ensured that erosion would be minimized from their activities. Yet, this brought up an interesting discovery. The further back they went, the better-quality sand they received. Jon was sure that a quartz deposit was nearby. And, if quartz was somewhere close, then the chances of gold were also high. So, Jon planned to soon begin sending out people to search along Acorn Water to see if his suspicions were true.
It seemed likely that there were pockets of gold hidden throughout the North. Winterfell had natural hot springs, natural hot springs, how lucky could Jon be to be living in such a castle? There was definitely a history of volcanoes in the North, so why had they yet to find large pockets of gold that they could mine? Iron and other metals were common, and sulfur, thank God, was a ready resource at Winterfell, but gold was nearly unheard of in the North.
It was strange, because on Earth one of the greatest gold rich areas was Alaska. A state that resembled the North in terms of the geographical similarities had an abundance of gold in places. How then had the North gone so long without their own mine? For these reasons, Jon heavily suspected that a gold mine would be something that the North would see in the not too distant future.
"I leave Winterfell in your and Robb's capable hands, Jon," Ned said as he patted Jon on the shoulder. Jon nearly snorted. Leaving a vast castle such as Winterfell to two children that only had nine namedays? If Jon weren't older than he seemed then he would have thought Lord Stark mad. At least Maester Luwin would be able to help in the administration side of things for Robb. Jon knew that he'd have to also bear more burdens so as to keep the family safe during the time his father was away.
"It'll be in perfect condition when you return then, father," Jon said with a haughty tone and an easy smile on his face.
Ned chuckled as he ruffled Jon's hair. "Aye, I expect you and Robb will please me with how you handle things here."
"Of course we will," Jon said, "I've taught Robb to think critically. With Maester Luwin and I, Robb will be the best acting Lord Stark that he can be."
Ned smiled as he turned and hugged Jon to his side. "I'll miss you son," Eddard said, "stay safe, and look after your siblings as I know you will."
"I'll miss you too father," Jon said honestly, "and I shall endeavor to do as you ask. For if I don't, I fear Lady Stark would bring righteous justice upon my head."
Eddard smiled, let Jon out of his hug, and moved on to the gate. He refused to promise that he would return, for war was always dangerous, and it was never certain if a man who walked the path of a warrior would come home. So, Eddard left his family and met the host that had formed outside the castle walls. His host was ready to march southward towards Flint's Finger. From there, the North would repel the Iron Born. Ned would make sure of it.
Now, if only he could find out why he felt like he should have left more than 100 men to man Winterfell in his absence.
'Oh, well,' Lord Stark thought to himself. 'Jon is a smart lad, Robb too. I know that they'll be fine.'
Weeks later, Ned would curse himself for tempting fate.
He couldn't have known that this war would leave no one unscathed, and that Jon and Robb would be forced to become killers before they had reached their tenth nameday.
Jon though, he knew that war took from everyone and left no one untouched. War was no respecter of persons. It cared not if you were wealthy or poor, child or grown, frail or strong. War took everything, and it left behind enough ashes for civilizations to rebuild so that war could come again and burn it all to the ground. It was a perpetual cycle that wouldn't, couldn't be broken. Because war… war never changes.
Here she is! I put her up brand spankin' new, so I hope you enjoy!
I don't own ASOIAF or GOT, and I don't own Fallout either. I just steak their ideas and change them to fit a narrative that I want :D
Also, expect for the M rating to start popping up. It's mainly gonna be for gore, and there's plenty of that to go around in war. I don't really write a lot of profanity, usually, so it won't be as present as in other writings. But, I'm not going to shy away from the war talk or the gore that is going to be present. That's just an FYI.
Let me know what y'all think! I hope you liked the chapter. I had fun writing both Jon and Margaery in this one. Margaery, obviously, is different from canon. We'll see where all of these changes will lead our protagonists.
Also, I know some of y'all might think the Fallout speech too much, but I couldn't resist lol.
Stay Frosty! Peace out