Hollow Crown ↬ Daenerys Targaryen

20

"Apologies, uncle, I must have misheard you." A humourless laugh escapes Percy's lips, head tilting sideways in an agitated manner as he addresses the dwarf. "I could have sworn you said that you wanted to put the women and children in the crypts during the battle?"

The dwarf glances up from the battle plans upon hearing his nephews tone, eyebrows furrowed in a clear sign of obliviousness. "That is what I said."

The smile dissapears from Percy's face, replaced with a deep scowl that he attempts to reign in for the comfort of those around him. With a deep breath in an attempt to clear his chest of anger, he nudges the white pawns along the map of Winterfell. He does well to remind himself of the stress that his uncle must be feeling as Hand of the Queen, trying not to lose his temper.

"You want to put the woman and children - the most vulnerable people in this castle - in the crypts during the battle. The crypts which hold generations of dead Starks, during a battle against a being whom can raise the dead. Do you not see the flaw in that plan?"

It's silent on the older Lannister's part, the Lords and Ladies among them glancing back and forth between the two, as well as Jon and Sansa who had called the meeting. Percy feels a swell of guilt when the man lowers his head from their stares. Sighing, he moves the pawns back into place on the lower levels. "It's still a good plan, we'll simply have to alter it a bit. Perhaps open the resting places and put the dragon glass-"

"And disturb the ancient burial of the Starks?!" A large brown haired man slams his hand onto the table, rattling the pawns and making every head whip in his direction. "Hah! As if the north would let you southerners come here and disrespect us with such an act of defiling!"

The two Lannisters share a look of equal annoyance at the interruption. Just as they're about to speak up in their defense, they catch the glare on Daenerys' face as she stares the man down. Smirking small, Percy nods once while lacing his fingers together atop the table.

"What is your name, my Lord?" The Targaryen queen speaks in a formal tone, her stoic look being replaced with one of feigned pleasantness.

The man looks momentarily taken aback at being addressed by her, but his chest is soon puffing outward in a sign of defiance. "Allyster Umber, Lord of the Last Hearth and sworn bannerman of house Stark."

Daenerys lifts her eyebrows in surprise, glancing at a silent Jon from across the table. "Umber? If my knowledge serves me correctly, house Umber pledged themselves to Ramsey Bolton after the death of King Robb, and later fought against the Starks in the Battle of the Bastards."

"War often causes a man to make lapses in judgement." Allyster says with a tense jaw, glancing sideways at the Stark bastard.

"Yes of course. I, more than most, understand the difficult choices that one is forced to make during dire times." Daenerys retorts, the smile slowly dropping from her cheeks with each word. "So tell me, Lord Umber, would you not consider that betrayal an act of defiling against not only the Starks, but the north as a whole?"

The man pauses, mouth parted while no words escape. A smirk makes it's way onto the younger Lannister's lips, eyes narrowing on the Lord in a condescending manner. Allyster's face begins to turn red from rage or embarrassment, probably both, and Daenerys continues.

"Your loyalty to the Starks and the north is admirable, Lord Umber." All formality is gone from her tone now, though she's still not unkind about her words. "But Jon Snow has sworn fielty to me, and when this war is won I will rule the north and it is I who your loyalty will belong to. Percival and Tyrion Lannister serve me to ensure the safety of Westeros, if that means defiling - as you so kindly put it - the crypts of Winterfell, then that is what must be done and you will not speak out of turn once more. Understood?"