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Chapter Text

Arthur

The hoofbeats of their horses did little to calm the storm raging in Arthur’s mind. This could very well start a war, he knew. Three men they were. Two Kingsguard and the Crown Prince. They were disguised and had been following the Stark party since Maidenpool.

Rhaegar had wanted to send lady Lyanna a message, but the risk of it landing in the hands of someone else was too great. So they followed on their horses. Watching from a distance, waiting for an opportunity. They were nearing the God’s Eye and Rhaegar was beginning to grow desperate. Oswell made some jape about the Crown Prince making an unexpected appearance at Brandon Stark’s wedding. The Prince wasn’t amused. Arthur wasn’t either.

It was then that the Gods answered Rhaegar’s prayers. One morning, when the rest of the party was still getting out of their beds, Lyanna Stark rode out with a handful of soldiers. And they found the opportunity they’d been waiting for. They rode after her.

More than an hour later, they saw a glimpse of the party that rode ahead of them. Lady Lyanna and her men had slowed down their horses. The three of them also slowed their horses. It was a while before they caught up to her. Lady Lyanna had noticed their approach. She and her men turned their horses around and waited for them. She had her hair untied and they blowed at the will of the wind. The Stark girl spoke when they reached close enough to hear her.

“Look Alyn,” she said to one of her men, “our friends finally caught up to us. Do you think they’re better horsemen than me?”

“ ‘Oo could be greater than you milady,” Alyn replied.

Arthur chuckled under his breath. He could see why his friend was so taken by this girl. Rhaegar took off his mouth cover. His face uncovered now and his silver hair flowed freely like the girl he pursued. Lyanna Stark looked more amused than surprised at the revelation. Arthur and Oswell followed their Prince’s example and took off their own mouth covers.

“How have you been, my lady,” Rhaegar greeted her.

“Oh look,” she looked around to her men, “its Prince Rhaegar.” She then turned to the prince with a smile on her face. “Forgive me your grace. I wasn’t informed you were coming to my brother’s wedding.”

“I’m not, my lady. We’ve been following your party since Maidenpool.”

“My Prince, why do you go through such hardships ? What will all the ladies of the realm do if something were to happen to your handsome face ?”

“I care little about all the ladies of the realm,” Rhaegar replied, “All I care about is you, My Lady.”

“Ahh, such sweet words,” she covered her mouth in mock surprise. “I can still hear the song you sang at Harrenhall. But what of Princess Elia, my dear Prince. Have we lost our lovely princess, I ask you. She was such a beauty. And Dornish.” She raised her brows at Arthur, mocking. This isn’t going the way Rhaegar expected it to.

“Princess Elia is safe, my Lady,” Arthur said in an even tone, not to give away any hint of his thoughts on the matter. He wanted to say more, but it wasn’t his place to do so. So he held his tongue. It was Rhaegar who spoke next.

“Lady Lyanna, did you not receive all the letters I sent you ?”

“Oh those letters. How could I forget those letters,” she replied, “I must thank you for those, my prince. They’re close to my heart. I treasure them so. Such beautiful lines. Such beautiful songs. I even promised Robert to read it to him once we get married.”

What? That couldn’t be. A cold feeling rushed through Arthur’s spine. It was as if he woke from a sleep and found a viper sitting on his chest, ready to jump on him. Rhaegar was no better. His mouth was open in shock. An open invitation to all the flies in the Seven Kingdoms to come forth and greet His Grace. Oswell looked like he might strangle the girl.

“You told Robert about those letters,” the prince finally managed.

“Aye. And my brothers too. Robert also writes letters to me. He can’t write beautiful songs like you. Poor sod. But he writes about his adventures with my brother in the Vale. Now I just wish to join them on one of their adventures,” she giggled, “he made me promise I’ll read your letters to him.”

Why won’t the gods just strike me with a lightening, Arthur wondered. That way, he won’t have to listen to this insolent girl anymore. He looked at his brother. Oswell’s hand rested on the handle of his blade. Like Arthur, he had realised how this encounter will end. Rhaegar was insistent on his prophecy. He will not return without the girl. And Lyanna is not like to come willingly. But Rhaegar hadn’t given up hope just yet. He advanced his horse closer to Lyanna.

“Lady Lyanna, I can’t leave here without you,” the crown prince said in his melancholic voice, “Elia can’t give me a third child. And the dragon must have three heads. My children are destined to save the world from darkness. And you, will give me another daughter. Its what the prophecy demands.”

“My dear prince, If you must have another womb for your seed, you must find someone closer to your own age.” She wasn’t smiling anymore. All the playfulness gone from her voice. Behind her, her men were also reaching for the hilt of their swords. And then, her smile was back again. As suddenly as it had vanished earlier. “Might I suggest, our Old Nan at Winterfell. I’m certain she’ll relish the thought of knowing your royal person.” This was enough to dash Rhaegar’s last hope.

“If you don’t come willingly, my lady, I’m afraid I’ll have to force the matter.”

And now she was angry. Rage burst from her mouth. “Do you really believe you’ll be able to keep me? Pray tell, what will Robert do when he learns of this? You know what he’s like. You saw him at the melee at Harrenhall. And he loves me dearly.”

Arthur had seen the young Lord of Storm’s End at Harrenhall. A giant of a man, towering over all others, and unstoppable with his massive Warhammer. Even Arthur had his doubts about making a foe of him.

“I can deal with my cousin Robert, my Lady,” Rhaegar emphasised the word ‘cousin’.

“And what of my brothers, Rhaegar,” she roared, “Do you even know half a thing about them. They’re wolves. They’ll come for me. Believe me Sers, you don’t wish to be in their way when they come looking for me. To get me back, they’ll wipe out the entire Targaryen line if they have to.”

Such treasonous words were too much for the three knights. Before Arthur knew it, swords were drawn on both sides. They were three. And others were eight. Arthur launched himself on three on her left. Oswell went for the three on right. Rhaegar moved towards the girl. But Alyn blocked him.

Within moments of the fight, any onlooker could’ve predicted how this was going to end. The girl must’ve seen the same thing. So she rammed her horse into Rhaegar’s. It gave Alyn some respite.

“Alyn, you have to go,” she said to her defender. Arthur was too focused on his three men to look at them. “Go now,” she repeated herself, “Go to my brother. Tell Brandon what they’ve done.”

By the time the last man was down and Arthur looked up, Alyn was too far from them. There were groans of the dying men. But Arthur kept looking at the fleeing man. Something told Arthur he should go after him. Who knows what kind of trouble might come after them if this Alyn found his way to the rest of the Stark party. But they didn’t have the luxury to chase him. They had a new companion now. A very wild and unwilling companion.

Arthur only hoped Rhaegar knew what he was doing. Arthur surely didn’t.

“Let’s go, my lady,” Rhaegar whispered. Arthur looked around at the fallen men. Dead and dying. And he moved to end their suffering.

Hours later, when they were far from that place, Lyanna’s words kept echoing in Arthur’s head. They’re Wolves. They’ll wipe out the entire Targaryen line.

Chapter Text

Eddard

Thousands and thousands of years ago, the old Kings of Winter used magic to bind the men of House Stark to the sigil of their house, Direwolf. A way to level the playing field against the Others. And also to establish the dominance of their family in the snowy areas North of the Neck. The members of their family were since said to have Wolf-blood. But most prominent effects of Wolf-blood only appeared in the male members of the family. Eddard was told it was done to ensure that this magic didn’t spill out of House Stark.

As such, men of the House Stark were wolves. Quite literally. They were faster and stronger than other men. Their senses were much more powerful. They healed much faster. And they were prone to higher form of rage. Eddard considered himself an exception to the last one. He had a calm head on his shoulders. He was used to not giving into anger. He usually had a control on his emotions. Usually. But this was an unusual day.

He and Robert, and their men were travelling through the Mountains of the moon on their way to Riverrun. His family was supposed to meet them at the ancestral seat of the House Tully for his brother’s wedding to lord Tully’s eldest daughter. He could sense father and Benjen at a distance in the west, probably on their way to Riverrun. But Brandon was much closer. And he was angry. He’d been angry for the past few days. Eddard could sense his brother’s mind erupting in a rage like never before. And this put Eddard at unease.

“Ned,” his foster brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “you’ve gone silent. I should punch you when your face gets like that. What’s happened.”

He turned to Robert. His friend was staring at him, waiting for his answer. “I think Brandon is at the Crossroads, waiting for us.”

“He’s supposed to meet us at Riverrun. Why would he be at the crossroads,” Robert said.

“I don’t know,” Ned told him, “but something is wrong. We should hurry. We can be there by the sundown if we go faster.” Robert inclined his head in agreement. And so they rode faster. There was little talking rest of the way.

It had been an hour since sundown when they finally reached the Inn at the Crossroads. Brandon was waiting for them outside. Ethan Glover, his squire and Elbert Arryn were with him. Brandon was pacing around, making the other travellers afraid and uncomfortable. Robert and Ned looked at each other, conversing silently. Then they climbed off their horses. Their men also dismounted behind them.

Elbert ran up to them when he saw them. “Thank the Gods the two of you are here. He’s been going crazy.”

“What’s wrong,” both of them asked at once.

Elbert looked at them staring at their faces, likely debating what to say. He finally spoke.

“Prince Rhaegar kidnapped your sister.”

“What,” was the word that came out of Ned’s mouth. He must’ve heard it wrong. “What did you say?”

“Six days ago, we were near the God’s Eye. Rhaegar and his Kingsguard kidnapped her from there. We looked everywhere. Lord Rickard even….” Robert didn’t wait for him to finish. He walked towards Brandon with hurried footsteps. Ned himself felt like smashing something in anger. But Robert was getting even worse. “Ours is the fury” were the words of House Baratheon and Ned knew Robert was the embodiment of those words. So once again Eddard Stark took deep breaths to calm himself and try to take a measure of the situation. He needed to know more.

“Will,” Ned called to one of his men, louder than he meant to. “Get our horses to the stables. And make yourselves comfortable. Wait for us inside.” Then Ned also made his way towards his brother.

“Bran,” Robert shouted, “is it true. Did that bastard take Lyanna.” Brandon looked up and finally noticed them. His nostrils were flaring in anger.

“Yesss,” he hissed. His gaze kept shifting between Robert and Ned. “I should’ve just ripped that inbred lizard’s head off at Harrenhall. But just you wait,” he nodded his head vigorously, “I’m going to do just that.”

“No no nono,” Robert shook his head wildly, “you should’ve squished him when he came for her. What were you doing.” He shouted even louder.

Ned looked at their surroundings. The place was crowded. He wasn’t so keen on discussing such high treason in full public view. If he didn’t stop the two of them now, they may as well barge into the Red Keep demanding Rhaegar to come out and die. No. These things need to be discussed behind closed doors. So he stepped up to them.

“Brandon brandon, Robert, CAAALM DOWN,” neither of them looked in the mood to calm down. So he kept speaking before either of them could open their mouth. “This isn’t the place for this. Look around you. Ethan.” He turned towards Brandon’s squire. “Do we have a room upstairs.”

“We have three,” the boy answered.

“Good. Elbert, tell our men inside we’ll take a while. So they should eat and rest.” Elbert Arryn nodded and hurried inside. Ned reached for Brandon and placed a hand on his shoulder trying to nudge him inside.

“Oh you think…..,” Brandon tried to speak before getting interrupted.

“Upstairs brother.”

The three men found their way upstairs to one of the three rooms Ethan mentioned and closed the door. Inside, Brandon sat on the bed. Robert and Ned took a wooden chair each. Their arms crossed, looking at Brandon, expecting answers.

“Now Brandon, tell us everything that happened” Ned said finally. And Brandon told them and they heard in silence.

“Did Alyn say which Kingsguard were with Rhaegar,” Ned asked after hearing it all.

“He said they were almost of an age with Rhaegar. I’d say it was Dayne and Whent. Lannister boy is too young. Others are too old.”

“Hmm. And what about father? He’s going to Riverrun, I assume.”

“Aye,” Brandon confirmed, “He’s going to discuss this with our new allies. The Tullys.” He said in a mocking tone.

“So,” Robert spoke for the first time since arriving in this room, “how are we going to get Lyanna back.” His words were spoken in an even tone, but Ned could hear the fury behind them.

Ned rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to think of something. When he opened his eyes, both of them were looking at him expectantly. Expecting answers. He didn’t know what to tell them. So he answered with his own question.

“Where could he take her ?”

“King’s Landing would be the obvious answer,” Robert replied.

“Or he could go to one of his friend’s keeps. Starfall maybe. Or with that other red haired bastard who keeps following him around. He’s your bannerman.” Brandon was looking at Robert.

“Connington?”

“Aye, Connington. His castle is griffin… something. Gods. I’ve drunk too much. I’m forgetting names of castles now. I’ve been drinking since I came here.”

“Griffin’s Roost.” Robert supplied the full name.

“Griffin’s Roost, Starfall, King’s Landing…,” Ned listed, “Harrenhall. He seems to have friends in Harrenhall.” Both of them nodded. He continued, “He would be foolish to take her anywhere in Dorne though. His wife is Dornish. Martells might not take kindly to such an insult.”

“Nah,” Robert disagreed, “they’re dornish. Who can say what they get upto in that desert of theirs. They fuck men. They fuck women. They fuck horses. Who knows? You’ve heard of that brother of Elia Martell’s! Oberyn! I hear he beds both men and women. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhaegar’s bitch knew about this.”

Eddard didn’t like this kind of talk. The woman he wished to marry was from Dorne as well.

“Robert, you forget yourself. Ashara is Dornish,” he said. It was as if they had indeed forgotten, and now they were reminded. Brandon and Robert looked at each other a moment and then burst into a laughter.

“Worry not, little brother,” A laughing Brandon reached out to pat his shoulder, “I’m certain Lady Ashara is a maid still.”

“Even after all that time in Water Gardens,” Robert added sheepishly.

That prompted another bout of clapping and laughter. And Ned didn’t like that. He was hungry, worried for his sister, tired after a long journey and not of a mind to hear any more japes at his and Ashara’s expense. He stood up from his chair.

“We should talk more about finding Lya in the morning. When we have out heads clear. Now I’m going downstairs to put some bread in my belly. Come down when you wish to.” With that, he walked to the door, opened it, and walked out. They were still laughing.

“Ned wait. We’re coming.” One of them shouted from behind him. He was already halfway down the stairs.

Chapter Text

Robert

Sleep wouldn’t come. Lying on bed, there was a lot of twisting and turning. But no sleep. He turned to the left side of the bed. No sleep. Then he went to the right side. No sleep still. Left again. Straight. Left. Right.

Finally, sleep came. If it could be called sleep. Robert called it nightmare. And even that didn’t last long. He climbed off the bed and sat with his back to the wall. Maybe this way he might sleep. But no such luck. His mind kept drifting to dark things. Evil things. What might that monster be doing to Lyanna ? Is she tied to some bed ? Does he even give her something to eat ? Does she remain thirsty for hours before he gives her some water ? Does he force himself on her ? What kind of tortures he must be inflicting on her ?

No. He needed to take his mind away from such thoughts. These dark thoughts do him no good. He needed to think about something else. Think about good things.

Since Harrenhall, Robert had started exchanging letters with Lyanna. She always talked to Ned over ravens. Robert had no fondness for Pen and Parchment. But in this matter, he made an exception. He asked Ned to help him send his letter to her. And Ned agreed. But he ran into a brick wall when he sat down to write the letter.

He had no talent for words. He didn’t know how to write songs. Robert had not forgotten how taken Lyanna was when Rhaegar played his harp and sang his song. Even thinking of Rhaegar filled him with anger. He had wished to shove that broken lance up Rhaegar’s arse when he dropped that blue winter rose in her lap. But all Robert did was make a jape about it. He had felt like a eunuch then.

So Robert sat on his table and waited for some inspiration to come so that he could also write a song for her. But no inspiration came to him. Next morning, he asked Ned what he should write. Ned himself sometimes wrote to his lady at Dragonstone. So Robert thought he might be of some help. Ned did not wish to help his friend write love letters to his sister. But Robert convinced him after must pestering. So Ned advised him to write something about himself and ask something about her. And that was that.

Robert wrote to her about a hunting trip that he, Ned, Elbert and Denys went to when they were much younger. He wrote to her about how he killed his first wild boar. And he asked her about how she spends her days at Winterfell.

That was the first letter between them. He didn’t know if she’d reply. Well she did. It took more time than he’d expected. Ned thought their father probably ordered her to do it. He wrote to her again, and again. And so did she. They had exchanged dozens of letters by now. She expressed her desire to come to the Eyrie and join him and Ned on their hunting trips. Robert didn’t think Lord Rickard would allow that. And even if he did, Robert himself didn’t like it. Hunting could be a stressful work. And there was always a danger of Mountain clans. So he refused her and she liked that not.

She also told him about Rhaegar’s letters. That angered Robert to no end. He ached to do something to that parasite. Ned advised against it, as did Jon. “You can’t just walk up to the crown prince and break his jaw. We shouldn’t make war if we don’t have to,” they argued. Breaking his jaw isn’t what Robert had in mind. “Once you’re married, he’ll himself lose interest,” Jon said.

That solution might be good enough for Jon, but it wasn’t so for Robert. He japed with Ned about Rhaegar’s foolishness and made fun of it in his letters with Lyanna. But he was determined to punish this wayward prince for his indiscretions.

For some reason, Rhaegar had no taste for melees. The fool. He preferred to joust. And Robert hated jousting. Yet he pushed himself to learn it all the same. Next time, when he’ll come face to face with Rhaegar, the dragonspawn won’t be walking out alive. When people demand answers, Robert would say it was because he isn’t as experienced a jouster as our deceased prince. If that starts a war, then so be it.

But all of Robert’s plans went down the sewage the moment he learned of Lyanna’s abduction.

Now Robert sat in this dark room with his back to the wall, lightly tapping his head to it, regretting not letting her come to the Eyrie. What great danger could she have encountered on a hunting trip. Some wild animals…. A bunch of badly trained and even more badly armed clansmen….. They couldn’t be a danger to her. He would’ve been there to protect her. He would’ve smashed anyone who dare come near her. If that wasn’t enough, he could’ve taken a hundred guards with them.

If she had travelled with him and Ned to Riverrun, they would’ve rode side by side with her. And Rhaegar never would’ve been able to come near her. He wanted to blame Brandon for not keeping her safe. He should’ve been with her. But Robert knew it wasn’t his fault. Fault lied only with Rhaegar and his band of sycophants. And now, all of them will have to face Robert’s wrath.

He noticed he is still awake. If sleep wouldn’t come, he had half a mind to go smash his hammer into something. But Ned was right. They need sleep. So he climbed on his bed and forced himself to lie still, no matter how much he ached to change his position.

In the end, he must’ve slept. He could tell that, because he was awake again. He slept again, and again.

In the morning, he didn’t wait for sun to rise before knocking on Ned’s door. His friend didn’t take long to open it. He must not have slept much either, Robert gathered. Ned was in the middle of getting dressed.

“Tell me you have a plan to get her back,” Robert didn’t have the patience for small talk. Ned turned to look at him with a barely noticeable smile. Someone else could’ve missed it. Ned’s closest friend didn’t.

“There is a plan,” Ned finally answered, “I’ve been thinking all night. But its risky.” Robert thanked the Gods for this. He could do risky. What he couldn’t do was sit on his hands any longer.

“I knew you’ll think of something. Tell me, what is it?”

“Not here,” Ned shook his head, “I’ll meet you outside with the horses. Wake Bran. We’re going for a ride.” With that, Ned tapped Robert on the shoulder and went downstairs. Robert made his way towards Brandon’s room.

They met Ned in the outer yard. Their horses were saddled already and his friend was waiting for them. Later, they were slowly riding along the Trident. Brandon rode in the middle, Robert to the right and Ned in the left.

“So tell me Ned, what’ve you come up with,” Brandon asked when they were certain no one was around.

“There is a man,” Ned answered, “a foreign eunuch. King Aerys’ Master of Whispers.”

“Varys,” Robert said, “I’ve heard of him. They call him the Spider.”

“Aye. They say he has his spies everywhere. He sees everything. Wherever Rhaegar is hiding Lyanna, this spider will know where she is. But we’ll need to go to King’s Landing to question him.”

“To the Red Keep, more like. But why would he help us.”

“He won’t have a choice when my hands are wrapped around his throat,” Brandon growled.

“But I know not how we can go to the Red Keep. It must be a heavily fortified building. Or how we can find where the eunuch lives.”

“Don’t worry about that Ned,” Robert said, “I’ve been to the Red Keep a few times. Its easy to get in there. We’ll tell them someone stole our goats.”

Both Stark brothers turned to look at him. He couldn’t tell if they were confused or annoyed.

“What!!,” Brandon finally said.

“We need to petition the king for something,” Robert clarified, “that should get us to the throne room. Master of Whispers surely attends the court.”

“That is a good idea,” Ned nodded, “we’ll go on a busy day. That way, we’ll be required to spend a lot of time in the yard outside. And we’ll be able to enquire about the eunuch’s residence.” Brandon also seemed to agree to it.

“But won’t people recognise you, Robert,” Brandon asked.

“Aye, that is true. Someone might recognise me. I’ll have to forego cutting my beard. And use some other disguise.”

Brandon nodded.

“So its decided then,” He said in a tone of finality, “the three of us will ride to King’s Landing. Elbert, Ethan and the rest of our men will go to Riverrun. They’ll inform our father what we mean to do. We’ll travel to King’s Landing under disguise and we enter the city separately.” He looked around to both Robert and Ned to raise their objections, should they have any. They didn’t. They only nodded.

“We’ll enter the city as hedge knights. Once inside,” Brandon continued, “we’ll regroup at a previously agreed upon location. And we must be very cautious if this eunuch is as good as you say it is.”

Brandon didn’t look around for their confirmation this time. But both of them nodded regardless.

“Very well. We should turn around then. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Chapter Text

Eddard

King’s Landing stank. The smell would be awful to any normal man. But to someone who could smell the filth of the city from leagues afar, it was unbearable.

Some part of him wanted to turn around and run. As fast as he could. Let Robert and Brandon extract information from the spider. He could wait for them outside the city. And perhaps he would’ve done just that, had he not feared for what they might do in his absence. Both his brothers were seething with rage. And they longed to spill blood. They might end up doing something rash if he wasn’t there to stop them. So he steeled himself, and focused on the lie that he had prepared.

“Next,” the guard shouted. Ned slowly moved his mount forward. The guard before him, a man in his forties, looked at him with wide eyes. A questioning look on his face. Ned suddenly remembered he was expected to tell his name.

“Martyn Bells,” he said, and after a moment’s pause, “hedge knight.”

The guard scanned him top to bottom.

“Sellsword. What business you got in the capital.”

“Here to get my armour fixed. I hear they do good job on the Street of steel.”

The guard looked at him again. Once satisfied, he nodded and stepped aside, letting Ned pass. Ned nudged his mount forward and entered King’s Landing through King’s gate. He rode straight as far as the street took him, then turned right. On the right side of the road, he looked around and found what he was looking for. The Barber’s Shop. That’s where they were supposed to meet.

Robert and Brandon would enter the city through Lion’s gate. They’d decided to enter the city separately. Yet, that was not enough. Brandon and Ned looked too much alike that any man could’ve concluded that they’re brothers. So they also had to arrive through different gates.

Now here he sat, mounted on his horse, waiting, twisting his nose in an effort to avoid the discomfort caused by that horrible smell. Yet there was no relief. So he tried to focus on determining the source of those smells. He focused on one. It was smell of shit. Gods. Let the next one be something else. He lent his mind to another…. Rotten vegetables. This one was better than first. But still bad. He tried another…. Rotten fish. Another…. Shit again. He wanted to vomit, but realised he couldn’t. Another….. and this one surprised him. It was the smell of a rotting human corpse. What? Why would a corpse be rotting just like that, he wondered. Is there no one in this city who could bury the dead?

“Its much worse when you’re inside, isn’t it,” his friend’s sound brought him out of his thoughts.

He was too focused on the smells, he didn’t even notice Robert resting his horse next to him.

“Aye,” he replied, “I even smell a corpse rotting around somewhere.”

There were rumours about Starks, in the North and also rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Rumours of how the Starks spend their nights prowling and hunting on four legs, rumours of them sacrificing their enemies to the Weirwoods in Wolfswood, whispers of their wild nature. But that’s what they were. Rumours. Wise men denied these rumours as nothing more than nighttime stories for children, or deliberate misinformation planted by Starks to frighten their enemies. There were very few people in this world who knew the truth of these rumours. Robert Baratheon was one of them. So Ned was free to express his wolf side in front of him.

Ned thought to ride on and see this rotting corpse for himself. But they still had to wait for Brandon. He reached out around himself trying to sense how far his brother was. Brandon was inside the walls of the city, Ned found out. It won’t be long before he joins them.

“What kind of a man is Aerys,” Ned didn’t know what else to do while they waited for Brandon.

“Aerys is a bastard, what else.” More than anger, it was grief on Robert’s face. “He sent my father on that wretched trip to Essos. Go and find a Valyrian bride for my son, he told my father. And my father even went, fool that he was. He even took my mother with him. Fool. I watched them die, in front of my eyes, yet helpless to do anything. Why couldn’t he tell Aerys to find some other toady to chase his Valyrian fantasies. Gods. I’m cursing my own dead father.”

Ned felt like a fool himself. He wanted to gain knowledge about the king’s habits, his personality. What he likes and dislikes. Such information might come in handy if he ever came face to face with the man. But Robert went on a very different line, and in a very public place. Ned knew well about the deaths of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana. He was aware of grief that Robert hid behind his loud and boisterous personality. But even he never realised how deeply Robert felt that loss. And now, Robert seemed to have chosen the most inopportune moment to let it all out. If he becomes any louder, Ned was afraid people might begin to notice them. So he slowly patted Robert’s back.

“And that same Rhaegar now steals my bride,” Robert continued in a sharp tone, “who’d give their daughter to these crazed monsters, I ask you Ned. Crazed monsters, that’s what they are. Sisterfuckers. And look around us, Ned. This, this is what they’ve built. The great Drragon kings. They’ve built this shithole. I don’t have a nose like you. But even I want to run away from this place. That should tell you how much I love your sister.” And then there was a slight laugh from him. Ned couldn’t help but chuckle himself. He shook his head in amusement.

Brandon was almost there, but not there yet.

“We need a better story than ‘someone stole our goats,’ if we want to get inside the Red Keep,” Ned said. Anything to lighten the mood.

Robert looked at him with a light smile.

“Aye. It wasn’t my most creative moment when I suggested that.”

“Robert,” They heard Brandon’s voice, “What was so special about this barber’s shop that you only remembered this one.”

“Oh, this. When I was in this city last time, an old man used to sit there.” Robert pointed to a bench outside the barber’s shop. “And told stories of long dead Andal kings. Stories of wars and friendship. I sometimes used to come here and listen to his stories. I loved those stories.”

“Like our Old Nan at Winterfell.” Brandon was also twisting his nose.

Ned looked around into the crowd for any suspicious, watching eyes. He didn’t find any. Yet he felt exposed here.

“We shouldn’t linger,” he told his companions, “let’s find an Inn.” They moved further towards Aegon’s hill, atop which sat the residence of the King. After some riding, they found an inn not too far from Aegon’s hill. They entered the inn the same way they did the city, separately. Separately, they went out to eat. At night, they gathered to go over their plan for tomorrow. Then they decided to lay claim to their beds in this unwelcoming city.

Next morning, Ned and Robert headed towards the Red Keep. While they infiltrate the home of Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Brandon would stay to get supplies for the road. Look after the horses. Keep them prepared, should it happen that they need to flee the city in a hurry.

With their clothes, as best as they could, they tried to imitate a tormented commoner who’s come seeking the King’s justice. They didn’t even take bath in the inn, so that the odour of their bodies would dissuade any suspicion that they might be highborn. Yet Ned couldn’t help but feel its not enough. People need only look once at Robert properly to catch the lie. So Ned told Robert to keep his head down and let him do the talking.

They were not allowed to keep any weapons, which was expected. So they didn’t bring any in the first place. The court was yet to be commenced, so they were kept in a waiting hall. There were six other people who’d come to seek justice. Five men, and a young woman. One man was probably in his fifties. Another was past thirty. Two younger men looked like brothers. They were older than twenty namedays. Another man was in his forties. He was likely the father of the young woman. The young woman was of an age with Ned. And she was beautiful. Robert would take her to bed in a heartbeat. So Ned didn’t let him sit beside her.

Ned and Robert got to talking with their fellow petitioners. The two brothers had meat shops in Fishmonger’s square. And they were having a dispute over the sitting area outside their shops. The man in his thirties was from the lands outside the city. As it happens, someone stole his goats. Robert and Ned started laughing at the mention of goats. The man wasn’t happy with them for laughing on his misfortune. The young woman is called Marya. She’s being coerced by a captain of the city watch into marrying him. The captain in question is old and ugly. Marya's father came with her to ask the King for justice. It was the old man who had experienced the biggest misfortune. His only son was murdered three days past. He suspects a merchant in his lane of hiring someone to do the deed. But the Gold Cloaks won’t listen to his complains. So he came seeking the King.

The court is commenced after more than an hour of waiting. It takes another hour before the first petitioner was let in. The old man was the first in lane. So he’s allowed in first. Robert and Ned got up to stretch their legs, and take a look at their surroundings. In the outer yard, there were more people now than when they first came in. Ned asked the guards innocent questions about the keep. Some the guards answered, some they didn’t. But Ned found out what he needed to know. Spider’s quarters are just in front of them, across the yard. It was a bad news. This place is out in the open. There are guards everywhere. It would be impossible to surprise the spider in this place. They need a new plan.

After much discussion, Robert and Ned agree it would be best to confront the spider inside the throne room, once the court has been suspended.

When they return to the waiting hall, the man who had his goats stolen was also called in. Robert further probed Marya and her father about their issue. And they go into an outburst about the rats in the City Watch. About their corruption, their pettiness, and cruelty. And hour later Marya and her father were also called in. Its just the four of them left. The meat shop brothers and them. And sometime after that, just Ned and Robert. Next is their turn and they start polishing their lies. The story they’re going to tell the King. They don’t want justice immediately. For now, they’re just here to complain. The King will have to send riders to Duskendale just to verify the truth of their story.

It had been a while since the meat shop brothers had been called in. It won’t be long before Ned and Robert are called in. Ned was thinking about it when he heard something. Someone was crying. No, screaming. Then he smelled something awful. A smell of burning flesh. He couldn’t believe it. He was on his feet immediately. Robert was surprised with his sudden movement. He looked puzzled. A silent question on his face.

“Come,” Eddard Stark whispered before he knew what he was doing. And he walked towards the horror. Robert followed without a word. The scent, and the screams, lead them to doors of the Throne Room. Ned looked back at Robert. And he knew, now Robert smelt it too. He heard it too. The guards who stood outside the door had seemingly fled. So certain they must’ve been, that nobody would want to go inside willingly.

Ned took his first uncertain step inside. Then another. Then another. Step by step, step by step, he reached inside the throne room. There were people inside. They’re called courtiers, a different part of his mind informed him. These courtiers stood there, like corpses of courtiers. He could’ve sworn only living people could be courtiers. But he wasn’t so certain now. On the platform in front of the Iron Throne, they burned. The younger meat-shop brother was just lit on fire. The other burning man was gasping for his last breaths. The older brother, Ned guessed. Older brother’s screams died down, but not of the younger brother. Ned felt himself being consumed by those screams. But then he heard something else that jolted him out. The laughing. The sound of the King’s laughter may not have been as loud as the screams, but it was just as terrifying.

Robert stood just beside him. He was as frozen as the wall. But something screamed inside Ned to stop his friend. Ned knew he was going to make a move. Eddard looked at him. And Robert moved….his hand. Before he could move anything else, Ned grabbed his hand. Robert looked at him, wide eyed, silently screaming a question. Ned, equally wide-eyed, shook his head. We can’t help them. Its already done, he said silently. Robert relaxed his body. As relaxed as he could in this place.

They turned their attention to opposite side of the hall. The Madman sat on his throne, roaring with laughter.  There was green madness in his eyes. Behind the King stood two Kingsguard. Ned turned his gaze upwards. There were women. He could see the queen, Rhaella Targaryen. Her unflinching hard stare directed towards her husband. Beside her stood princess Elia, Rhaegar’s wife, trying her best to look unaffected by it. Yet failing in her attempt.

The madman spoke then. “Traitors, this is what happens to traitors in my reign.” Traitors? They just had a minor dispute, with each other. What treachery could they have done. He wanted to scream at the madman. But no words came out of his mouth. This was his place of power. They couldn’t do anything, yet.

He realised the court was closing around him. The King disappeared behind the throne. The Nobles who attended were leaving. Ned suddenly remembered why he was here. He stopped someone, asked him which one was Varys. The man pointed him to a bald man in front row. Ned and Robert made their way towards the bald man. Ned was feeling numbness in his body. The plan they had discussed was relegated to some far corner of his mind. He feared he’ll break the arm of any poor soul who might try to get in their way. Fortunately, no one got in their way. Everyone else was seemingly as numb as him.

He found himself standing in front of Varys. The man looked up at him. Ned was no longer posing as a commoner. He was merely wearing a commoner’s garb.

“Lord Varys,” he heard himself say, “we’ve come a long way to talk to you.”

The eunuch gaped at him, confused. He crossed his arms under his long sleeves. Ned could smell the powder on him. Varys made to turn around and leave, but found his face buried in Robert’s broad chest.

“Make a noise, and I’ll snap your neck before you can finish it,” Robert said in a raspy voice.

“How may I help you, my Lords,” Varys found his tongue.

Robert put a hand on his shoulder and they led him away from others. The crowd was thinning now, but there were still some who were left. Ned looked around for any guard who might be approaching. He attuned his hearing to listen if someone was growing suspicious of them. Once out of nearest person’s earshot, Robert made his query.

“Where is Lyanna Stark?”

Varys opened his mouth, making the connection in his mind. Then there was a look of realisation on his face.

“Ah, Lord Baratheon,” he then turned to look at Ned, “and one of the Lords Stark, I presume.”

“Presume whatever you want. Where is Lyanna?”

“My Lords,” the eunuch said in his smooth voice, “I’m afraid I don’t know Lady Lyanna’s whereab.…”

“Lord Varys,” Robert interjected, “we’ve had a long journey. And after what we’ve just seen, we’re not in the right state of mind. The king keeps you because you have spies everywhere. We’ve pinned all our hopes on you. Don’t disappoint us.” Robert voiced the last part in a sharp tone. Enough to tell the eunuch it was a threat.

Varys looked at them both, in turn. Then came the answer…

“The crown Prince was seen enquiring and making arrangements about a certain abandoned tower along the Prince’s Pass. I can tell my Lords where that tower is.”

Robert and Ned looked at each other, in silent conversation. Then turned their gaze towards Varys.

“Tell us,” they said in unison. And he told them.

Chapter Text

Arthur

“Did you hear that,” Oswell shouted. He was standing in the balcony.

“Yes, we heard you, Oswell. You have a pretty voice,” Arthur called out. He picked up a grape from the bowl in front of him and launched it in the air. Then tilted his head upwards and opened his mouth. Silently waiting for the airborne grape to come down and land in his jaws. And the green projectile did just that. Arthur cheered in joy.

“Did you see that, my lord. I’m getting better at this,” he asked.

The Lord Commander looked at him and smiled kindly.

“Yes, I saw that, Ser Arthur. A pity you never tried that in front of the ladies when you had yet to swear any vows of celibacy.”

Arthur grinned. Gerold Hightower was not a cheerful man, but he wasn’t entirely joyless either. Currently he was reading a book about Dragonstone. Rhaegar had given them the upper level where they could monitor the approach to the tower. The Prince himself and the Lady Lyanna were on the lower level. Crown Prince had kept the lady in a separate room. He himself spent most of his time in his own room when he wasn’t trying to convince Lyanna Stark about her role in fulfilling this prophecy.

For all the ill that had transpired since they first set out from the Red Keep, Rhaegar had at least not forced himself on the girl. For that much, Arthur was eternally thankful to all the Gods, Old and New. He was already guilty of abducting a highborn lady. And held no desire to add ‘facilitating a rape’ to his bundle of shame.

“My Lord, you should come out. I think I heard something,” Oswell called again.

The Lord Commander sighed and stood up from his chair and went out.

Arthur picked up another grape and tossed it, then caught it in his mouth. He tossed another and waited, his mouth open. Then he heard it. A howl. That alarmed him. He jerked his head down. The grape landed on his left eye. But Arthur didn’t care. He was on his feet quickly and rushed to the balcony.

Arthur looked out to the endless desert. There was nothing but sand dunes and a still bright sun to see. It was still a few hours before sundown.

“So you heard it too,” Oswell was grinning at him.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, “Was that a hound.”

“Sounds like it.” And then they heard it again, much louder. Much closer. It was the Lord Commander who spoke next.

“That cannot be a hound. Its too loud. Its a wolf.”

Arthur and Oswell looked at each other in dread. They still remembered Lady Lyanna’s threatening words about her brothers. Arthur knew Starks weren’t really wolves. It was all just rumours. How can any man be a wolf? And yet, there was an illogical part of his mind that caught hold of fear. And Arthur did not know how to shrug that part off.

“Do you think……,” Oswell gulped, “that her brothers are here.” He was looking at Arthur. Arthur didn’t know what to say.

“If they are, the Prince needs to be warned.” Ser Gerold spoke. “Go downstairs and inform him.”

Oswell was quick to follow the Lord Commander’s orders. He hurried towards the door.

Arthur turned his sight towards the direction from which the sound came. The sun was in his face. He covered his eyes with his hand to block the sunlight. Yet he couldn’t see anything. Until he did. A very slight movement on the horizon.

“My Lord?” He looked at the White Bull, trying to read his face.

“Yes, I see it too.”

Arthur looked back at the shadow in distance. It was approaching the tower. He turned around at the sound of door opening. Rhaegar rushed in, followed by Oswell.

None spoke. The Prince took long steps to reach the balcony. He came to stand beside them, staring in the same direction as they did.

“Who could it be,” Rhaegar queried.

The feeling of dread in Arthur was only growing. He knew they were here. And they were here for Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. It could be a large party of Starks and Baratheons. And they were only four. This place wasn’t safe anymore.

“It could be friends,” Arthur offered, “but my gut says no. I think you should go, Your Grace. Take Lady Lyanna and go.”

“What?” Rhaegar looked puzzled.

“We don’t know how many of them are here. We’ll hold them off so long as there is strength in our body. If we survive, we’ll join you. But your safety is paramount, my Prince.” Rhaegar looked unsure. But Arthur knew the Prince had to go. So he said the last thing he wanted to. “The prophecy can’t be fulfilled without you, sire. You must live through this.”

“Don’t be absurd, Ser Arthur,” Ser Gerold spoke out, “Harming the Crown Prince is treason of highest order. If Starks do something like this, they’ll meet the same fate as the Darklyns. I doubt they’ll dare do such a thing.”

“There’s still a risk, My Lord. People would go to great lengths to avenge any foul committed on their sister. I have sisters too. I would know. And we did abduct Rickard Stark’s daughter, however noble out intentions may have been.” Or idiotic, he failed to add.

That seemed to settle the matter.

“But where would we go,” Rhaegar wondered.

“Kingsgrave isn’t far from here. Manwoodys are sworn to Sunspear. Neither the Starks nor the Baratheons can get to you once you reach there.”

“Ser Oswell, go downstairs and help the Prince pack for the journey,” Lord Commander Hightower ordered. Oswell nodded and made his way downstairs with Rhaegar.

Arthur and the Lord Commander turned back to the approaching party. The shadow he previously saw was no longer a shadow. He could clearly see three figures approaching. They must be outriders, Arthur thought. If these outriders are kept from returning to their party, Rhaegar just might have enough time to reach his destination.

“We should also get ready, my Lord,” Arthur said. The Lord Commander nodded. My bowl of Grapes will have to wait, Arthur thought.

They waited longer than Arthur reckoned. Rhaegar had taken Lyanna Stark and departed for Kingsgrave. Arthur, Oswell and Lord Commander Hightower armed and armoured themselves, donned their helms and waited at the foot of the tower. Sometime later, they came.

The three men that dismounted in front of Arthur and his fellow Kingsguard were no outriders. He remembered Robert Baratheon and Brandon Stark from Harrenhal. The third rider, he guessed. Grey eyed Eddard Stark is a less handsome version of his older brother. So this is the man that Ashara’s been gushing about.

“My Lords,” The White Bull began, “you’re far from home.”

“As are you, it would seem to me, Sers,” Brandon Stark hit back in his thick Northern accent.

“What brings you all the way to this desert, my Lords,” Arthur was determined to avoid the fight as long as he could. Not only did it give Rhaegar time to escape, but Arthur had no desire to slay men who’d travelled all this way for the love of their sister. And how would he face his own sister after he’s killed Ned Stark.

“We’re looking for our sister. We have witness who’s confirmed you and Rhaegar Targaryen abducted her. So tell me Sers, where’s Lyanna?”

“Your sister hasn’t been harmed in any way. I can assure you, whatever the Crown Prince has done, he’s done it for the good of the realm,” Arthur knew it was a futile effort, yet he tried to pacify the angry Northerner.

“Bran,” Ned Stark spoke up before his brother could talk further, “they’re stalling. No one is inside the tower. Rhaegar is fleeing. They mean to delay us.”

Brandon Stark gave his brother a sideways glance. Then turned back to the Kingsguard. “Last chance, step out of our way,” he warned.

“Or we go through you,” Robert Baratheon opened his mouth for the first time since their arrival. He looked menacing, casually flipping his Warhammer, as if itching to kill.

“If that is what you wish, then so be it,” the Lord Commander declared.

Fate seemed to have already chosen opponents in the coming clash. Each of the warriors advanced on whoever stood opposite to them. Oswell faced Ned Stark, Hightower met Baratheon and Arthur answered Brandon Stark’s steel with his own Dawn.

There was no more words, only the sound of metal hitting metal. The Older Stark was faster than any Arthur had faced before. But he was too impatient. His sword was no match for Dawn. Arthur knew it was taking damage. It won’t be long before it cracks. So Arthur stayed on defensive. Brandon Stark was trying to close the gap between them. He was wearing himself out. At least Arthur hoped he was wearing himself out. Yet there seemed to be no sign of it. Stark also sensed the poor state of his blade. They continued to parry each others’ attacks. And then, in the middle of the duel, Stark did something Arthur had never seen any swordsman do before. He dropped his sword in the middle of a duel. Arthur hesitated but for a moment. What is he doing? But Arthur had no time to waste. He brought down Dawn to tear into the Northerner. But that didn’t happen. Brandon Stark lunged at him, and caught him by the wrist. Then he pulled Arthur towards himself with an impossible force. Dawn was hanging in the air. And then Stark made a fist of his other hand, and swung it at Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur yelped out from pain and Dawn slipped from his hand. He fell to his knees. Brandon Stark reached for his throat. This was the end. Arthur turned to look at the state of other duels. He only managed to catch the last few moments of Oswell’s fight with Ned Stark. The younger Stark knocked Oswell out with a strike of the pommel of his sword. Done with Oswell, he looked towards Arthur. A worried look flashed through his face for a moment and he yelled to his brother.

“Brandon, what’re you doing. That’s Ashara’s brother. How will I show her my face if we kill her brother?” Brandon Stark looked from his brother to Arthur, then to Oswell, unconvinced.

“And what of him,” the wild wolf pointed towards Whent, “are you to wed his sister too?”

“No, you are. Hoster Tully’s wife was a Whent. But that’s besides the point. We’ll need him alive. You’ll see.”

Brandon Stark grumbled something that Arthur didn’t understand. But he released Arthur, and ran towards the tower. Free of Stark’s tight grip around his throat, Arthur inhaled, and coughed. He slowly looked towards where Hightower and Baratheon fought. That fight took turn for the worse. Robert Baratheon smashed his hammer into the Lord Commander’s head. Then he also ran after Brandon Stark while Hightower lay dying. If only the Hightowers had promised one of their girls to the youngest Stark boy. Arthur shook his head wildly, chiding himself for trying to find humour in this situation.

Ned Stark came to Arthur. “Ser Arthur,” he called, “Are you alright.”

“Yes,” Arthur whispered.

“Good.”

Stark slowly freed Arthur’s helm from his head. With his head tilted upwards, Arthur looked at Ned Stark. Despite not being as handsome as his brother, he had a kind face. At least he’s not as murderous as his brother. Maybe that’s what drew my sister to him.

“Does your head hurt, Ser.”

“No,” Arthur replied. And then, before Arthur could blink, a punch came swinging at his temple.

“How about now?”

No , he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. He was losing consciousness, fast.

Chapter Text

Robert

Abducting someone is hard work. Its not a job for one man. And when that one man is a halfwit like Rhaegar Targaryen, then it becomes a nightmare.

Brandon and Robert found Rhaegar and Lyanna not too far from the tower. Rhaegar was trying to tie Lyanna’s hands together, which was difficult because she is wild and furious. When he saw Brandon and Robert approach, it looked as if he started deflating, taking long breaths. Brandon climbed down from his horse and sprinted towards Rhaegar. The disgraced Prince tried to say something. Indeed, he was saying something. But neither Brandon, nor Robert were of a mind to hear any excuses from that monster.

Brandon grabbed Rhaegar by the neck, and pushed his head into sand. Robert ran towards a crying Lyanna. When he reached closer, he realised her hands were tied up. She was struggling to get free. Robert sat down next to her, and took a moment to study her. She looked gaunt and a little pale, but no more harm had come to her.

“Lyanna!” He called to her, but she didn’t seem to listen. He reached for the rope tying her hands, but she brushed him aside.

“Lyanna,” he was louder this time. She looked at him. A mixture of shock and relief washed over her face. He once again went for the rope. “Let me, my Lady.” This time, she allowed him. She brought her hands forward. Robert could feel her staring at him, but he didn’t look up. He untied the knots. “There,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she gulped, “my lord. Thank you.”

They turned to see where Brandon was still suffocating Rhaegar in this Dornish sand. Robert could see struggle leaving Rhaegar’s body.

“Did he harm you in any way,” he asked Lyanna.

“No,” she shook her head.

“Did he….,” he couldn’t bring the words to reach his lips. But he needed to know. And she understood.

“No,” she shook her head more wildly this time. Thank the Gods, he thought. He felt ashamed to have asked that question. Would you have loved her any less if Rhaegar had raped her? No, he screamed internally.

By then, Ned had also arrived. And Rhaegar had been freed of his mortal coil. Lyanna was still looking at him, expecting him to say something. Her eyes were still moist. A thought came to him to make some declaration of love. To say something like those songs she liked. But he dismissed that thought. Robert felt incredibly uncomfortable with that. Perhaps another day, he thought. Years from now, when they’re settled in a comfortable marriage, and when words come more easily from his mouth, he would tell her how relieved he felt in this moment. For now, he settled on something else.

“Can you get on your feet.”

She nodded.

He stood up and held his hand out for her. She took it and pulled herself up. Just then, Ned came from behind him and pulled his sister in embrace. Lyanna started sobbing again. Having dispatched Rhaegar, Brandon also came and joined his siblings in their reunion. Robert left them to themselves and walked towards Rhaegar’s corpse. Some said Rhaegar was the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms. And mayhaps he was. But now that Robert looked at him, his corpse looked pathetic. Robert wanted to be the one who killed this madman. He wanted to bury his Warhammer in Rhaegar’s chest. But it seems Brandon was more eager than him.

“We should let the crows feast on him,” Robert shouted.

“No,” Ned said, “we’ll bring the corpse back with us. Even dead, he’ll be of use to us. And we should head back to the tower now. Ser Arthur and Oswell should be waking up by now.”

“What happened to Dayne,” Robert had to ask.

Ned tilted his head and winked.

“He may have received a nasty blow to his head.”

Brandon laughed. “And what will Lady Ashara say to that?”

“She’ll say he deserved it for helping abduct our sister.”

Chapter Text

Arthur

He was dreaming about wolves. The Starks prowling in the Red Keep, on four paws, hunting for the remaining Targaryens. Little Rhaenys hiding behind a door, holding her breath in an effort to stay quiet. Queen Rhaella and young prince Viserys screaming. King’s throat been torn apart. Him, Arthur wouldn’t mourn. And then there was Beautiful Elia, clutching the babe in her arms. She too was a Targaryen. By marriage, if not by blood. She didn’t deserve to be blunted by Robert Baratheon’s Warhammer. Rhaegar wasn’t in Arthur’s dream. Arthur knew Rhaegar is dead. There was no way he could’ve survived this.

A clap on his face woke him up. Mayhaps it was more than one clap. Arthur couldn’t tell. But he was thankful to whoever freed him from that nightmare. And then he opened his eyes and looked at the face of the man who woke him, and he was thankful no longer. Brandon Stark loomed over him.

“Rhaegar,” Arthur whispered, hoping.

“Dealt with,” Stark replied promptly. He looked behind himself and then looked back at Arthur. “My brother has saved your life. It wouldn’t do for the hunger to claim you now. Or cold. Come, eat something. We’ve even built a fire.”

Arthur didn’t know how he could eat in this situation. But eat he must. He propped himself on his elbows. Kingsguard were supposed to give their life for their prince. Yet Arthur was alive, and Rhaegar was not. He had half a mind to walk into that fire. He wanted to cry. For the brother and mentor he had lost, the prince he failed to protect, and a royal family that were still in a danger that they weren’t even aware of. But he was a Kingsguard. We don’t cry. And surely not in front of Brandon Stark.

He carefully lifted himself up and rid himself of the armour. There was no need for it anymore. Brandon Stark brought forth a rope he was holding. Arthur looked at him curiously.

“So you don’t do anything stupid,” Stark said.

Arthur gave out a resigned sigh and joined his hands. Brandon Stark tied them together. Then he patted Arthur’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

The fire wasn’t large. It was small enough that six people could sit around it and talk without having to shout. The others had situated themselves around it and they were already eating. Oswell too, with hands tied. They all eyed Arthur as he sat down next to Ned Stark. His head was still aching mildly from the blow that younger Stark gave him. Heat from the fire gave him relief from the cold he wasn’t even aware he was feeling. Brandon Stark went ahead and served Arthur and himself. Then he sat down on Arthur’s other side. It was going to be a chore to eat when his hands were tied.

“So tell us… Arthur,” the wild wolf said, “we’re to be kin soon. We should call each other by our given names by now.” Arthur didn’t know what to say, so he nodded lightly. And Brandon… continued. “Tell us, what is this prophecy we keep hearing about.”

Gods no. Don’t make me tell the tale of Rhaegar’s prophecy. “The prophecy of the promised Prince,” Arthur said, “Its a long and tragic tale, my lord. Its nothing you should concern yourselves over.”

But Brandon Stark wouldn’t have it.

“Your prince abducted our sister in the name of this prophecy. I would hear this… tragic tale. So tell us. We’ll not interrupt you, that I promise.”

Arthur looked to the others. They were also staring at him. Even Oswell. Rhaegar hadn’t shared all the details of the prophecy with him. Arthur yielded, and he began to tell them all he knew. True to Brandon’s promise, they listened without interrupting.

By the time he was done, they’d finished their meal and reclaimed their seats around the Fire. And then Baratheon started laughing. Arthur stared at him. So did the others.

“Gods, its just like Rhaegar to think himself the saviour of the world,” Robert Baratheon said.

This irritated Arthur. Rhaegar is dead. All he did, he did because he thought it served the interests of the realm. And this man still can’t stop mocking him. But Robert’s betrothed spoke up before Arthur said something.

“No,” she shook her head, “he took no joy from it. He seemed burdened by this prophecy.”

Her brothers looked at her as if she spat in their faces.

“Little sister,” Brandon said, “are you feeling sympathetic towards your abd….”

“No,” she interrupted, “I’m telling what I know.”

“But you must see this Lya,” Eddard said, “he was clearly wrong about this prophecy.”

“Or you’d be carrying his abomination inside you by now,” Robert finished his friend’s thought. Lyanna scowled but didn’t say anything. Everyone else also fell silent, just enjoying the heat. Eddard went ahead and added more wood to the Fire and it grew. Arthur shifted back a little.

“What shall we do now,” Brandon asked of no one in particular.

“We killed the crown Prince,” Eddard said nonchalantly, “there’s bound to be a war. If the king doesn’t start it, I say we do it.”

Brandon and Robert looked at him incredulously.

“Look at that Robert,” Brandon Stark laughed, “this is an unbelievable day indeed. My little brother, calm and gentle Ned.., wants to start a war.”

Ned just stared at the ground, shaking his head.

“We told you what we saw in that throne room. Me and Robert. But you had to see it for yourself, Bran. I’ve never felt death like that ever in my life.” He looked towards them all. “All the rumours about the King are true. He’s unfit to sit on that throne. If he’s allowed to rule as he pleases, the Seven Kingdoms will surely burn.”

So this is what other second sons do with all their free time, Arthur thought, they make plans to topple centuries old dynasty. He cursed Aerys, who’s brought this doom upon the last Valyrians. He cursed himself, who stood like a statue, while that madman inflicted his cruelties on innocents. He cursed all others, who stood in the throne room, as mute as Arthur when wildfire danced its dreadful dance.

“So what would you have us do,” Brandon asked.

Arthur looked at the three young men sitting around him. All three of them are younger than even him and Oswell. And they are discussing the fate of the greatest dynasty in the world, when most men of their age would be concerned about what glories they could earn in the next tourney. And Arthur could laugh at the absurdity of it all, but for the fact that this conversation tonight is going to determine the future of Westeros.

“The babe, Aegon, Rhaegar’s son. Or the boy Viserys. We can crown either one of them after we’re done with this…Mad King,” Ned replied. Arthur could agree to that. Ned Stark was turning out to be better man than he’d expected. He doesn’t want to end the Targaryens. And he has the courage to do something about Aerys’ cruelties when most others don’t. Now Arthur waited to hear what the others had to say. And mayhaps Robert Baratheon heard Arthur’s thoughts.

“Absolutely not,” he grumbled, “I’m not risking my life for a damn Targaryen. That babe you talk of, we just killed his father. He’ll want our heads when he’s old enough to speak.”

“I agree with Robert, Ned,” Brandon gave his opinion, “When I ride south with an army, it’ll be to end this horde of sister-fucking tyrants. Not to seat one of them on the throne.”

Arthur winced at that. Brandon was openly talking about killing the family that Arthur was sworn to protect. If my hands were not tied and I had Dawn, Arthur thought. Even then, Arthur wasn’t sure what he could do to this beast under a man’s skin. His shoulder still ached from their last encounter. Oswell was looking at him, expecting him to say something. But Arthur slightly motioned him to maintain silence.

“So we seat a new dynasty on the throne,” Ned acquiesced. He added more logs to the flames. “Who.”

“It should be Jon,” Robert Baratheon answered, “That old man knows more about ruling than all of us put together.”

Everyone fell silent after that. Each drowned in their own thoughts. Arthur looked at Lyanna. The girl looked entirely uninterested in their conversation. Arthur thought about what a rebellion against Aerys would look like. The coalition between Starks, Arryns, Baratheons and Tullys looked powerful. Tywin Lannister may join them. The Reach and Dorne are the only two kingdoms that might stand in support of the king. And even in these places, Aerys hasn’t cultivated many friendships.

“It should be you,” Ned Stark said, looking at his friend, “you should be king, Robert.”

“Why me,” Baratheon asked, “don’t you or Brandon want to be king.”

“Our place is in the North, my lord,” Brandon said, “Winterfell is a long way from King’s Landing. But Storm’s End is not far. And out sister would be queen, that would be enough for us.”

Everyone looked at Lyanna. And she stared at everyone.

“I don’t want to be the queen. Why not Lord Arryn like Robert said.”

“Because winning the war wouldn’t be the end of it, sister,” Ned explained, “After the war, we’ll need to pacify those houses who’ve fought for the dragons. And Robert’s grandmother was a Targaryen. Also, Jon is an old man, and he doesn’t have an heir of his own body. That comes with problems of its own.”

“Heh,” she scoffed, “And you’d have the new king shame me in front of all the Seven Kingdoms with his whore-mongering ways, instead of just Stormlands.”

Brandon Stark started laughing loudly. “Hahaha haha,” He ended up rolling on the ground trying to contain his laughter. Robert Baratheon was speechless. Arthur could laugh himself if not for his current predicament. This girl isn’t interested in the stability of the seven kingdoms. She has her own concerns. And she’s not about to let them be swept under the rug.

“Ly..Lyanna,” Baratheon stammered, “I…. I promise you, I’ll put a stop to it after we’re married.”

“But not when we’re betrothed” the girl glared at the man, “Gods. At least Rhaegar was promising to keep to only two women.” Now Arthur laughed slightly, seeing the look of Robert Baratheon on being compared to Rhaegar.

Robert looked helplessly towards Brandon Stark.

“Brandon,” he said, “you’re in the same boat as me. I’d appreciate a little help.”

Brandon was still grinning. “That, I cannot do. You see, she’s my sister. And I always side with my family.”

“You’re a traitor. Very well.” Robert looked Lyanna in the eye. “My Lady, from this day onwards, I’ll try to curb my bad habits as best as I can.”

That only served to anger the girl more.

“That’s not good enough. Know this, Your Grace,” she called him that mockingly, “if you betray me after we’re married, I’d kill myself before letting you touch me ever again.”

With that, she stood up.

“What’re you going,” Robert said.

“I’m tired. I’m going to find a bed in this cursed tower.” And she walked away.

“What is to be our fate then,” Arthur asked after a while.

“You’ll come with us to Storm’s End,” Brandon replied, “and stay there for the duration of the war.”

After that, the rest of them also went to sleep. Arthur thought long and hard about what he should do next.

Next morning, from the upper balcony of the tower, Arthur saw the corpses. He came down to enquire after them.

“We should bury them,” he told Robert.

“We’re carrying Rhaegar back with us,” the Stormlord replied, “Hightower, you can bury if you wish. We won’t stop you. But we’re not helping you either.”

So Arthur and Oswell went to dig the graves for their fallen brother. While they were at it, they talked about their next steps. They’d come to a decision by the time Ned Stark came and joined them. After a time the other two also came.

“It’ll be noon if we don’t help,” Robert and Brandon said and they also helped.

When they were saddling their horses for their journey, Arthur went to Brandon. Every instinct of his body revolted against what he was going to do next. But he forced himself to do what needs to be done.

“I’d like to join you,” he told Brandon.

“Explain,” Brandon said.

“Oswell and I know all that goes on inside the capital. We know who can be your friend in King’s Landing, and who’ll be your enemy. When you ask people to join you, we can be your witnesses. We can testify as to the King’s madness and cruelty.”

“Why would you help us.”

“Like you said, we’re to be kin soon. And I need a promise from you. A vow.”

“Tell me.”

“Except the King, I want you to vow to me that you’ll not just spare the rest of the royal family, but you’ll protect them. You and the new King.”

Brandon looked towards Robert and his brother over his shoulder.

“I can vow that I’ll protect the children to the best of my ability,” he said.

“And what of the women. Elia and the queen,” Arthur asked.

“I make no promises for them. If they cause any problem, they’ll be dealt with, same as Rhaegar.”

“No. The Queen and the Princess are just as much victims as the rest of the realm. The king torments them too. You don’t know the misery he’s inflicted on them.”

Brandon considered his words, then nodded his head.

“Very well. I promise.” Brandon extended his hand. Not one day has passed since that very hand was on the verge of choking Arthur. Arthur still wasn’t certain whether he should do it. A century from now, he wondered, will the maesters condemn me as they condemn Criston Cole. Or worse. After all, the queen that the Kingmaker betrayed wasn’t even crowned. In contrast, Aerys has been King for decades. But then Arthur thought of beautiful and gentle Elia and her children, of the queen and the muffled screams coming out of her chambers, of his own impotence of feigning deafness when he heard those screams, and now he was more certain than ever. He shook Brandon’s hand.

“Good,” Brandon said, “now get on your horse.”

Chapter Text

Eddard

On their journey to Storm’s End, they stayed at Blackhaven for a night. Robert informed Lord Dondarrion about Rhaegar’s death and instructed him to prepare for War. Next morning, they were back on road. More than two weeks later, Ned spied the giant castle in distance.

Ned: “So this is where the Storms come to an End.”

Robert: “Yes, that is Storm’s End.”

Oswell: “Its smaller than Harrenhal.”

Robert: “Smaller, but stronger.”

Oswell: “You jest, my Lord. You were at the tourney. Surely you cannot believe Storm’s End to be stronger than Harrenhal.”

Robert: “Storm’s End has stood impregnable for thousands of years. Then look at Harrenhal. It barely saw a few months before Aegon killed everyone inside it.”

Oswell (scandalized): “With the help of a massive dragon.”

Robert: “Now don’t go around speaking excuses, Ser Oswell. Its unbecoming of a knight of the Kingsguard.”

Ser Oswell looked towards Ned, expecting him to resolve the matter. But Ned kept his quiet. He was enjoying it too much. That wasn’t the case for his sister.

Lyanna (looking at Oswell): “Didn’t Brandon the Builder help build this one. So how can your family's ugly castle be stronger than something he built. Storm’s End has to be stronger.”

Ser Oswell just huffed in annoyance and gave up. He realised he will not get a fair hearing in this court. Everyone was biased towards their own.

Robert (smiling): “That’s right, Lyanna. Legend says he advised Durran Godsgrief  on how to build it when the Builder was merely a boy himself.”

Lyanna (almost talking to herself): “And he built Winterfell when he grew up to be a man. Storm’s End looks very different from Winterfell.”

The three of them kept on looking towards the castle. They didn’t know what to say. Ned could see outriders approaching and banners that flew overhead. The crowned Stag of house Baratheon looked majestic. Ned observed the outriders as they came closer. They must’ve recognised Robert from afar, as one man turned and headed back while the other three came and greeted their Lord.

“My Lord, its good to see you,” the leader greeted Robert. Then he bowed to Ned, Oswell and Lyanna, “My Lords, my lady.”

Once the greetings were done, Robert sent the men to tell Lord Stannis of their arrival.

They rode on while Storm’s End grew ever larger and grander. Lyanna challenged Robert for a race to the castle gates and he pulled Ser Oswell into the race too. Ned kept his slow pace while they raced ahead. This had become a frequent occurrence on their journey from that tower. After Lyanna’s outburst about Robert’s inability to keep to one bed, Robert had been trying different ways to charm her. Some of them work, others don’t. During this time, Lyanna grew an appetite for defeating Robert in horse race. Robert is a huge man. There’s only so long and so fast his horse can take him without tiring itself.

As for Ned, he was happy to see that his sister was smiling again. She’s not forgotten the joys of life during her captivity, that much was certain. Ned hasn’t forgotten her threat to kill herself. He still shuddered just thinking about her words. Surely she couldn’t have meant it. It was merely an outburst due to enduring captivity for so long. He tried to convince himself, but couldn’t take any chances with Lyanna’s well being. Who knows how this captivity might’ve changed her.

Ned thought about Robert’s… habits and his promise to put a stop to them. Robert seemed to think it would be an easy thing to do. Ned didn’t believe that. If Robert is to get rid of his old habits, he’ll have to catch some new ones. He had put some thought into it for the past few days. And he’d come upon only one solution. King’s Landing. Its a city full of filth and corruption. He’d grown a distaste for the members of King’s court. These men stood silent witnesses while their king unleashed horror on innocents. Ned understood these men may not be able to speak up for fear of their own and their children’s lives. But surely they had the freedom to not attend that mockery of a court.

When Robert sets his eyes on something, he doesn’t stop until he’s achieved it. If he took it upon himself to clean King’s Landing, both physically and morally, then he can be motivated into giving up his old habits. But Ned knew that saying this to Robert outright won’t do. His friend will have to be carefully nudged in the right direction.

Ned turned around to look at his brother and Ser Arthur. They’d been riding behind him. He slowed his horse down to ride along with them.

Brandon and Arthur had been riding together a lot. They talked and japed like friends. Something about this didn’t sit right with Ned. He was suspicious of these turn cloak Kingsguard. Indeed it is Brandon and Robert’s nature to make friends quickly. Yet, they’d killed Rhaegar. And still, Arthur  and Oswell Whent wanted to help them overthrow the Targaryens. Why would they do this, the question prodded Ned.

Do they hate Aerys Targaryen so much that they’d be willing to side with Rhaegar’s killers. They say they’re doing it so that the women and children of the royal family can be safe. But the success of the coming rebellion will also make sure that Rhaegar’s son will never sit on the Iron Throne. Would a member of the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard be willing to make such a choice? These questions and the lack of answers to them made Ned uneasy. Ned had discussed this with Brandon and Robert. Arthur Dayne seemed to be the one making most of the choices out of the two. So it is to determine the truth of Ser Arthur’s choice that Ned asked him what he did as they approached Storm’s End.

“Ser Arthur, what will the queen and princess Elia think when they come to know of your… betrayal.”

“It is not for me to presume to know what the queen and the Princess think,” Arthur replied, as if he’d rehearsed this answer thousands of time.

Ned nodded very lightly towards his brother. And then, Brandon said what Ned told him to say.

“When all of this is done, I should invite Princess Elia to come live at Winterfell. After the stench of King’s Landing, she should be glad to breathe the cold and fresh air of the North.”

Ned laughed.

“Brother, I know why you want to invite her to Winterfell,” he said, looking at Arthur’s face, “I don’t think Lady Catelyn would appreciate it when you try to seduce the princess.”

Arthur winced. And Brandon spoke again.

“You wound me, brother. That’s not why…”

“The princess…,” Arthur interrupted Brandon, “is of the Dorne, my Lord. She wouldn’t like the cold Northern winters.”

A slight grin crept upon Ned’s lips. Arthur wouldn’t presume to know what she’d think of his betrayal. But he’s all too happy to presume that Elia wouldn’t like the North.

“Don’t worry, Ser Arthur,” Ned assured the famed knight, patting his back, “I’m with you on this. The harsh winters of North wouldn’t agree with the lovely princess.”

Ned had his confirmation. Now he had all the pieces of this puzzle. With the weight of his suspicion lifted from his shoulders, Ned trotted his mount towards their destination.

At Storm’s End, they were greeted and led to the solar of Stannis Baratheon. Robert had already situated himself in his brother’s seat, much to Stannis’ chagrin. Lyanna and Ser Oswell were also there, as was Maester Cressen. Ned had heard much about him from Robert, so he greeted the old Maester warmly.

When the matter of rebellion against the crown was brought forth, Stannis opposed it.

“This is treason,” he said, “how can you think of rebelling against your king.”

Robert: “Even if we don’t rebel, war will come to us soon enough. We’ve killed Rhaegar. There’s no way out of this.”

Stannis: “And why did you kill Rhaegar? You could’ve brought Lady Lyanna home and then we could’ve appealed to the king for justice.”

Robert (laughed bitterly): “If you’d seen the king recently, you’d laugh at how foolish you sound. Even Maegor would look like the High Septon in front of him. He’s a madman.”

Stannis (still unconvinced): “If the King is mad, we could’ve waited him out. And wh…”

Robert (shouted): “And then what. Rhaegar would’ve been king. You want to ask Rhaegar to punish Rhaegar for Rhaegar’s crimes. Seven hells Stannis. How dumb do you have to be.”

Stannis went to say something, but Cressen stopped him.

Cressen: “My Lords, this isn’t the time to start a fight between brothers. What is done is done. Now we must prepare ourselves for the future.”

On that, each of them agreed.

Robert: “Very well. Here’s what we’ll do. Maester Cressen, send ravens to all my bannermen. They’re to prepare for war. Then, make arrangements for a ship that’ll take Brandon to Gulltown.”

Brandon: “Also, maester, do something so that Rhaegar’s corpse stops stinking and his face remain recognisable until I drop him at King’s Landing.”

Maester Cressen (nodded): “As you will, my Lord.”

Robert: “Ser Oswell, you’re to leave with Brandon too. Help your family make all the right decisions in the coming war.”

Ser Oswell nodded.

Lyanna: “So when do we march to King’s Landing and defeat the king.”

Ned: “That will not happen for a while, sister. It makes no matter now, but let Aerys be the one to start the war. Let him call for our heads. And he’ll do just that, once he finds his son’s corpse floating in the Blackwater.”

Robert: “I do wonder who’ll be commanding Mad king’s army. Rhaegar is dead. Aerys is in no state to lead an army.”

Brandon: “Hmmm…. One of the Kingsguard mayhaps. Jonothor Darry, Barristan Selmy, Lewyn Martell.”

Arthur: “Tchhh… No chance of that. The king is more like to throw them in the dungeons after he learns Oswell and I have sided with you.”

Ned: “What about Tywin Lannister. He’s said to be boyhood friend of the King.”

Arthur: “And their friendship ended with their boyhood. The king has spent two decades insulting and provoking Lord Tywin. He also put Jaime Lannister on the Kingsguard, denying the Old Lion his heir.”

Oswell: “And… there are also rumours in the Red Keep that Aerys had designs on Lady Joanna Lannister when she was still alive. Trust me my lords, Tywin Lannister is no friend to Aerys Targaryen.”

Stannis: “So that only leaves serpents and flowers to fight for the dragons.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“What is it,” Robert shouted.

The guard outside opened the door.

“Your brother’s come to see you, Milord.”

“Hmm. We were almost done here. Let him in.”

Renly Baratheon, youngest son of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana Baratheon, a boy of six, stepped in.

“Renly,” Robert called, “come, I want you to meet some people.”

Renly came closer, and Robert introduced them. The boy lighted up when introduced to Ser Arthur. When Robert introduced him to Lyanna, Renly took her hand and kissed its knuckles.

“Storm’s End has become brighter by your presence, my Lady,” he said, smiling.

Lyanna blushed, and everyone else laughed.

“Yes, he’s a charmer,” Robert proclaimed.

“That, he is.” Brandon agreed. He reached and mussed the boy’s hair.

“Renly,” Robert said to his brother, “wouldn’t you show our home to the lovely lady here.”

Renly nodded enthusiastically. Lyanna took Renly’s hand and went out to see the castle.

“Cressen,” Robert turned to the maester, “send ravens to Winterfell, Eyrie, and Riverrun too. Inform them of our arrival and Rhaegar’s death. Make no mention of Sers Arthur and Oswell. We can’t trust such information to ravens.”

Cressen curtsied and left. Stannis also took his leave after the maester.

Then Brandon slapped Arthur’s back and stood up.

“Come, you two, let us see where these warriors of Baratheon are trained,” he said.

Brandon, Oswell and Arthur also left. Then, it was only Ned and Robert left. Ned leaned back in his seat, as did Robert.

Ned: “You like making Stannis grind his teeth, don’t you.”

Robert(smiling): “Is it that obvious.”

Ned: “Yes.”

“Now, enough about Stannis,” Robert leaned forward on his brother’s desk and lightly knocked it twice, “tell me, what did you learn from our good friend Arthur.”

Ned looked towards the door to see if they were truly alone. When he was satisfied, he answered Robert’s question.

“Elia Martell.”

Robert’s eyes widened. “Really,” he asked.

Ned nodded. Robert leaned back in his chair.

“Hmmm. A knight of the Kingsguard secretly pining after his queen. I believe I’ve heard that story before. Makes me think I should have a Queensguard for Lyanna if we win this war. Made up of only women warriors.”

And now was the time for that careful nudge.

“About that,” Ned started, “I don’t think Lya will like King’s Landing very much. You and I, we’ve both seen that place.”

“Can’t disagree with you on that. The smell and the filth of that city, and the arse kissing that goes. Lyanna is more like to smack the poor bastards.”

Ned just laughed, and let his friend keep talking. Let him come to his own conclusion.

“And the gold cloaks. Remember that girl Mayra.”

“Marya,” Ned corrected.

“Yes, Marya. And the old man whose son was killed. That whole city is filth.”

Ned only kept nodding.

“Makes me think we should push Jon to take the throne.”

“That won’t work,” Ned shook his head, “Its your grandmother who was a Targaryen. And think of Arthur and Oswell. They joined us because they think we’re going to win. If you change your mind now, we’ll only look indecisive and feckless.”

“Very well,” Robert leaned back again. Then almost as if talking to himself, he said, “I suppose I’ll have to clean that city of all kinds of filth. Lyanna would like the capital then. She’ll be a good queen, I know.”

Now we’re talking, Ned thought.

“But that’s enough talk of what happens after the war,” Robert continued after a moment’s silence, “first we need to overthrow the Targaryens.”

Chapter Text

Jon

Some fishermen found him in an abandoned boat floating in the Blackwater. They informed the harbourmaster, harbourmaster informed the Gold Cloaks, Gold Cloaks informed Hand of the King, Hand of the King informed the King, and the King burned the fishermen, for surely they must’ve been traitors.

Someone pointed out that the fishermen must’ve been assisted by the King’s enemies. A bunch of fishermen couldn’t have been strong enough to overpower and kill our gallant Prince and the Kingsguard that were with him. My Silver Prince, Jon thought. The King refused to believe that his son was gallant, but he quickly adopted the idea that his enemies were behind this.

Question arose, Which enemies? The King had countless enemies in the East West North South, behind every pillar of the throne room. Serpents hiding in the shadows, just waiting for the King to be distracted. Finally, the answer came from the Spider.

The Lord of Storm’s End and two eldest sons of the Lord of Winterfell had gone South to find Lady Lyanna Stark who they believed to have been abducted by Rhaegar. They must’ve come upon the noble Prince during their search and killed him. Varys also informed the court of Lady Lyanna’s safe arrival at Storm’s End with her brothers and Lord Robert.

Honoured members of the King’s court expressed their anger over the audacity of these young Lords.

For his part, Jon had been numb for days. Unfeeling and uncaring. The burnings of the fishermen had left him directionless. He had lost any hope of punishing the real culprits. Vengeance seemed to be eluding him. There was nothing left in the world to live for. But when Varys came forward with this information, Jon felt a renewed sense of purpose. There was still some meaning to life. The Fury in him was rivalled only by the King’s own.

His Grace raged about the long dead Laughing Storm who’d rebelled against his grandsire.

“The Baratheons feel themselves equal to Targaryens,” he said “but they don’t know the fire that burns in the breast of the Dragons. They’ll see. They’ll see. And those Starks. They call themselves wolves. They’ve always thought themselves apart from the realm. They think the laws of realm don’t apply to them. I’ll burn everything from Neck to the Wall. Then we’ll see if winter saves them.”

And then the King laughed. He laughed like the madman he was. Everyone was quiet as a mute. Jon felt like adding his own laughter to His Grace’s, because he too was going mad. He felt a growing hunger, and blood and vengeance was what he craved.

Jon looked up to see Rhaegar’s widow holding on to the queen, frightened by the mad spectacle in front of her. In this moment, Jon felt none of the revulsion towards Elia Martell that he’d felt for so long. Does she mourn him like I do, he wondered. Somehow, Jon felt not. She still had her children to hold onto. And then his loathing towards her came back.

The court ended with the King declaring Prince Viserys as his heir. Rhaegar’s infant son stood disinherited. Jon should’ve felt outraged by that. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t care about anything other than vengeance.

Ravens flew the next day to Storm’s End, Winterfell and Eyrie demanding the heads of Brandon Stark, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, wherever they are. The King also summoned Lord Rickard Stark and Lord Jon Arryn to answer for the crimes of their sons and wards. The response from these lords was one of defiance. They called their banners and were preparing for war.

News came that Graftons opposed Lord Arryn and declared for the King but Jon Arryn attacked Gulltown subsequently. It was also said that Brandon Stark was the first over the walls during the battle of Gulltown and personally slew Marq Grafton. Jon Connington couldn’t help but be thankful that the beast survived. He wanted to be the one to kill Rhaegar’s killers.

In the North, all the lords were faithful dogs to the Direwolf and Rickard Stark faced no such resistance from his Bannermen.

Lord Varys informed the court that Stormlords had started mustering their troops much earlier. It fell to the Hand of the King to deal with these treasonous lords. Lord Merryweather sent messages to all the loyal lords to raise their banners in service of their King. There was no response from Casterly Rock, nor Riverrun. Tyrells proved true, so did the Martells. There are also some lords in the Stormlands who sided with the Targaryens, the Hand informed the Small Council. Lords Fell, Cafferen and Grandison would meet at Summerhall and march on Storm’s End to put down the Baratheons.

Jon thanked the Seven there were at least some lords in Stormlands who were prepared to oppose that monster Robert. Robert Baratheon was Jon Connington’s liege lord, yet Jon had despised that dishonourable scum long before he and his friends killed the most handsome and honourable prince ever. Baratheon was opposite of Rhaegar in all things. If he had been even a little faithful to his betrothed, Lyanna Stark wouldn’t have gone with Rhaegar.

All this time, Jon trained and trained, imagining his  enemy’s face in every arc he swung. He had never seen either of the Stark boys, so he had to make do with Lord Loudmouth.

A week later, news came of the Battles at Summerhall. The king was so wroth, he cut himself on the Iron Throne. He concluded that the defeat at Summerhall was a result of Lord Merryweather’s treachery. So His Grace stripped his Hand of all his lands and titles, and exiled the man. The King needed a new hand, and he, in his infinite wisdom decided that Jon Connington would be the best suited for this position. What moved His Grace to such a decision, Jon could not say. But he was the King’s hand and sat next to the King in all Small Council meetings thereafter.

Tyrells were amassing a Fifty thousand strong force at Highgarden for the Targaryen cause. So Jon commanded the Warden of the South to deal with the Baratheons while he himself dealt with the traitors Northwards. He communicated with the Crownland houses and those Riverlands houses whose loyalty he could count on. The Martells were also sending Ten thousand spearmen through the Prince’s Pass. All these combined, Jon was confident he could muster some Forty thousand men. If Rhaegar were here, he could’ve inspired more men to fight the traitors. But such was not the fate that the Gods decreed.

While Jon gathered his army, other things happened in other places. Hoster Tully had declared for the outlaws and Starks and Arryns were converging at Riverrun.

On both sides, men gathered, armies mobilised, preparations were made, battle strategies were planned. While all this happened in northern theatre of the war, another dire news arrived from the South.

Baratheons had captured Bitterbridge.

Chapter Text

Arthur

A feast roared around him.

Looking at the Great Hall of Lord Caswell’s castle, none could say that these men are at war. They drank, they cheered, they sang and danced, and some even slept on the tables. Mayhaps this is the nature of men at war. To live without a care for tomorrow.

For his part, Arthur did much of these things as well. Yet, all this while, a queer sort of feeling kept nagging him at the back of his mind. He is a Kingsguard, regardless of his current situation. For years, he had played a very different role in gatherings like these. His job was to stand as a guard, a silent presence, only to be seen and not to be heard. Sometimes he’d stand just outside the door, sometimes just inside the door, other times he’s stand right behind his charge, sharply observing everyone who approaches, any sign of a hostile activity. But today, he participated with the crowd and the experience was almost foreign to him.

There was none in this hall that he was sworn to protect. The people that he was sworn to protect may not even want him around their person anymore, once they learn of what he has done. More than once, he had wondered whether he should’ve had made a different choice. He had no clear answer except this, the decision is made and there is no going back . Only time will tell if he was right.

In front of him, Ned Stark was talking with Lord Estermont, Robert’s grandfather. The old Lord of Estermont was acquainting Ned with his ancestral history. Eddard simply listened. Looking at the young Northern Lord, Arthur couldn’t help but feel curious about his sister’s suitor.

Like Rhaegar, Ned was quiet and reserved, but in a very different way. While Rhaegar was often lost in his own thoughts, the weight of the prophecy often wearing him down, Ned observed everything and read everyone around him. His cold grey eyes rarely betrayed his thoughts. Arthur himself felt Ned’s scrutinising gaze boring into him in the early days after the confrontation at the tower. Eddard had warmed up to him since. On another comparison, while Rhaegar barely started any conversation with new people, that wasn’t the case with Ned. So very often, Eddard would put his solemn face away in favour of a more amicable one. He was often seen quietly talking with Robert’s bannermen and Lord Caswell since they arrived here.

At Storm’s End, Lord Robert had received the new that Tyrells have sided with the Mad King and it won’t be long before entire nobility of the Reach is sitting outside gates of the ancestral castle of Baratheons. But Robert Baratheon had an advantage. Stormlands was the first region to mobilise their forces. Twenty thousand men were ready at his command and they set out to take the battle to Tyrells instead of the other way around.

Bitterbridge sat at the confluence of the river Mander and the Roseroad. If Tyrells tried to attack Storm’s End, then they’ll leave Highgarden and much of the Reach vulnerable to an attack from Bitterbridge.

The castle of Bitterbridge was not something that Arthur could call impressive. It was a small thing without any remarkable defensive structures. It overlooked the bridge that the town was named after and that was the only advantage it had. If they were to repel any attack from Tyrells in this place, they had to fortify this place towards the South and West. And that is what Stannis and Eddard had been doing ever since they arrived.

As a habit, Arthur kept glancing at the door. So he saw as Stannis Baratheon entered the hall, holding a coiled parchment between his fingers. Arthur stretched his lips looking at the man. Stannis had a vehement distaste for his brother’s habits and he wasn’t one to hide his feelings.

Arthur wondered what was in the parchment. News from North mayhaps…. Last they heard, Jon Connington had summoned all the Crownlords and Riverlords. Lord Whent had also received the summons, but the Lord of Harrenhal sat comfortably in his impregnable castle, refusing to declare for either side.

Or, what Stannis was holding in hand could be a message from Highgarden. Not long after they’d arrived, Robert and his advisors had decided to offer parley to Lord Tyrell. If Lord Tyrell could be convinced to hold back his armies, they’d have an opportunity to march North and combine their strength with their allies. So the raven had flown to Highgarden. “We shall see how good of a witness you can be against the Mad King,” Robert had said to Arthur while patting his back so hard, Arthur was afraid for his backbone.

Arthur raised his hand and waved for Stannis to come over to their table. Stannis took his meaning and walked up to their table. He took a chair opposite to his grandfather.

“Grandfather,” Stannis greeted the old man, “you seem to have had more cups than your health allows.”

“Stannis,” Lord Estermont laughed, “come child. I was telling young Eddard about mine own grandfather. He’s a good listener, this boy.”

Ned smiled.

“You tell a good story, my lord. I could not restrain my curiosity.” Ned then turned to Stannis. He had also seen the parchment. “What news, Lord Stannis.”

Stannis passed the parchment to Ned. “Mace Tyrell has agreed to parley.” Ned passed the parchment to Arthur after reading it.

A wave of incomprehensible shouting drew Arthur’s attention to the high table where Robert had just convinced Roland Caswell to stuff his already full mouth with another pastry. Lyanna laughed at the antics of her betrothed. Robert had a way about him that even enemies surrendered to his charms. Arthur felt somewhat guilty to admit to himself that he enjoyed Robert and Eddard’s company far more than Rhaegar’s.

Robert and Lyanna sat with Lord and Lady Caswell. Some would consider it inappropriate for Robert and Lyanna to sit together as if they were already married. But no one was bold enough to tell it to Robert. Even Ned was almost nonchalant about it.

“Mace Tyrell has a shaky hold over his bannermen,” Stannis’ voice brought Arthur’s attention back to the table, “what would it even matter if he agrees to not attack us. There are too many unruly lords in the Reach always trying to undermine the Tyrells.”

“Hightowers and Redwynes are bound to the Tyrells by blood,” Arthur offered, “so they’ll stay their hand. That leaves Houses Florent, Tarly and Rowan among the influential ones.”

“Goldengrove will be the most vulnerable, should fighting start now,” Ned said. “Mathis Rowan probably knows that. He’s not like to take any risks. That only leaves Tarlys and Florents. We should keep an eye on them during the parley.”

“And, if Tyrell still opposes us after the parley, we can get these same lords to make trouble against him,” Lord Estermont contributed.

Stannis hummed.

“Has Robert been told,” Lord Estermont asked.

Stannis scoffed. “As if he’s even in his senses to listen.”

On the High Table, Robert Baratheon pushed back his chair and stood up, a cup of wine raised in his hand. “A toast,” the Lord of Storm’s End shouted for everyone to hear, “to our gracious host.” Everyone cheered at that.

Our gracious host, Arthur agreed. For that is what Roland Caswell was now. A hostage no longer, he had pledged himself to the Rebellion. He spent his days acquainting his one time enemies with the surrounding lands. His sixteen year old son sparred with Robert’s knights. His two daughters of fourteen and twelve namedays each, attached themselves to Lady Lyanna, the young woman who may very well become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day. Lord Caswell’s wife, a graceful lady always happy to assist.

A few days past, Robert and Lyanna had invited Lord Caswell and his children to accompany them on a hunting venture. And by the time they returned, Lord Roland had pledged all his swords and service to Robert and his cause.

Seeing all this, Arthur couldn’t help but marvel at the duo that was Lord Arryn’s two wards. Eddard builds trust, and Robert turns it into loyalty. They were almost opposites to each other, united by boyhood friendship and common purpose. The contrast between them was for all to see, quiet and loud, calm and aggressive, grounded and purposeful, ice and fire. A conquering duo, Lord Swann had proclaimed.

Several more toasts followed. To Lord Robert, to Lady Lyanna, to the Mad King, to lady Caswell, to lord Estermont. This went on for hours and hours. People approached Arthur to join in, but he was well past his limit. He felt more tired than hours of standing stiffly in one place. So he said his farewells for the night and found a bed.

———————————————————————————————————————

Almost two weeks later, Arthur sat atop his destrier as they caught the first glimpse of the approaching Reach Lords. They were late, but not too late as for it to be considered an insult. The meeting place was almost halfway along the Roseroad between Bitterbridge and Highgarden outside a small village. Each side brought hundred knights and four hundred men at arms.

Arthur could see banners of almost all major houses of the Reach. Robert had not brought along as many of his bannermen. Even Stannis remained at Bitterbridge.

Lord Robert stared at the approaching party like he was eyeing a prey. Ned Stark just watched without a hint of emotion. Lord Eldon Estermont scoffed at the colour and pomp of the Reach Lords. Arthur merely smiled at the differing reactions of his companions.

Slowly, they arrived and finally the two parties came face to face.

“Greetings, my lords” Robert was not one to let someone else have the first word, “how is the weather in Highgarden.”

What, Arthur thought, how does the weather of Highgarden concern us. The opposing side seemed as puzzled by the query as Arthur. Mace Tyrell titled his head slightly, seemingly trying to figure out if it was some sort of trick. He finally spoke.

“Ummm, the weather in Highgarden is wonderful. Its almost spring and Highgarden is more beautiful than ever.”

“I believe you,” Robert said, “you’ll have to show it to me sometime.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Lord Tyrell said eagerly. Apparently, he’d forgotten that they were opposing sides in a war.

A bald hard eyed man loudly cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “We’re here to discuss a war, lord Robert.” His surcoat was marked by the striding huntsman of house Tarly. So the man must be Randyll Tarly, one of the few Reach Lords that Arthur didn’t know by face.

“That we are,” Eddard acknowledged. “We would like you to join us, my lords. We have no quarrel with you. You’d do well to not make an enemy out of us.”

“Unlike you, we still have our honour intact, Lord Stark,” Lord Leyton Hightower spoke out, “You are traitors to the realm and House Targaryen. You should surrender and beg for mercy while you still have a chance.”

“We’re no traitors,” Lord Estermont said, “its the Targaryens themselves that are traitors to the realm. The King unjustly demanded three highborn men executed. I don’t know about you m’lords, but I’m honour bound to fight against such injustice.”

“Injustice,” lord Leyton was seething in anger, “these three highborn men murdered the crown prince. Have you no shame, lord Estermont.”

“The crown prince abducted my betrothed,” Robert reminded everyone, “Ned’s sister, a highborn lady of the oldest house in the Seven Kingdoms. He was a danger to Lady Lyanna. I should like to see what you men will do if it was your sister or betrothed in her place.”

“Like his father, Rhaegar too was not of a stable mind,” Ned added, “we had no choice.”

“And what of Ser Arthur,” Mathis Rowan brought everyone’s attention to the Kingsguard. While earlier, few people were making oblique glances at him, now everyone was openly staring at him. In there eyes, I’m a bigger traitor than Robert and Eddard, Arthur knew. “Is he also not one of the men who abducted lady Lyanna. Then how does he live still.”

“Ser Arthur is repenting for his crime,” Robert informed the group, “we brought him here today as an eye witness to the Mad King’s countless cruelties.”

“Mad King!!!” Someone hissed from the Tyrells party. Almost everyone seemed to take offence at Aerys Targaryen’s moniker that Ned had first coined months ago. All of them were talking and shouting at once.

Arthur always felt more comfortable using his blade than his tongue. But this day, he was expected to speak. He was slowly watching this parley fall apart. If no peace can be made here today, this war could go on for far longer than it should. Elia and her children would continue to be in danger. So Arthur shouted over everyone else.

“My Lords.”

Nothing.

“My lords,” he shouted louder.

The shouting lessened.

“My lords,” he shouted again.

Shouting stopped.

“Unfortunately, what lord Robert says is true. King Aerys Targaryen’s mental health has been rapidly deteriorating since the unfortunate events of Duskendale. He has grown increasingly paranoid and sees traitors everywhere.”

“Was he wrong,” Lord Tarly said, “have you not turned a traitor against His Grace.”

Arthur ignored that and continued.

“For so many times, I have been a silent witness to innocent people being burnt alive. I’m certain some of you have seen it for yourselves. Or your close kinsmen have. Lord Tyrell,” Arthur addressed the lord of flowers directly now, “you may think that the king shall reward you for bringing him Lord Robert’s head. But in my experience, he’s just as likely to burn you as a traitor, because you didn’t arrive before His Grace broke his fast.” Everyone was silent when Arthur stopped speaking. And for moment, a small hopeful moment, Arthur hoped that Mace Tyrell would accept the peace that he was offered. In the next moment, Tyrell’s nostrils flared and eyes grew hard.

“You Ser,” Lord Tyrell pointed a finger at Arthur, “are a disgrace on the Kingsguard. Speaking such filthy lies about our beloved king, the king that you’re sworn to protect and obey and keep his secrets. If you continue to spread such vile accusation against his grace, I shall forget the white banners and have your head myself.”

Arthur recoiled at such outburst from someone whom people call ‘fat oaf’ behind his back. But Mace Tyrell didn’t stop there.

“We’ve all heard the story of how Lord Eddard dishonoured your sister at Harrenhal. I can see clearly that you’re siding with your sister’s lover.”

Arthur grinded his teeth at Lord Oaf’s audacity to speak such nonsense about his sister. He looked at the man who was being blamed as dishonourable. But Ned Stark still showed no emotion. If he was displeased by such unflattering remarks about Ashara, he kept his feelings well hidden. If Arthur hadn’t known Ned for months now, he would’ve been angered by such lack of emotion. But where Ned was used to hiding his emotions, Robert Baratheon was used to radiating them.

“You…..” No doubt Robert would’ve launched some colourful insult at Mace Tyrell, but his friend was not similarly inclined.

“Robert,” Ned shook his head. Then he turned to Lord Tyrell and his bannermen. “You have a choice to make, my lords. Rhaegar is dead. Every man of house Targaryen is either a child, or mad. Make no mistake, we will win. If you seek a battle against us, your kingdom will burn.”

“Aerys Targaryen is the rightful king of Westeros. There is no choice,” Lord Hightower announced.

“As you will. Come morrow, we leave for Bitterbridge at first light,” Robert said. And with that he turned around his mount.

The two parties broke, and headed back to their camps. For the first time, Arthur considered whether Targaryens could actually win. If the lords of the Reach are so loyal to Aerys, could it be that Arthur underestimated chances of Targaryen victory.

“That was a disaster,” Arthur exhaled.

Everyone agreed, except the wolf.

“On the contrary, you did well Ser Arthur. Robert,” Ned turned to Lord Robert, “post someone at the entrance of the camp to escort the messenger inside.”

“What messenger,” Robert asked.

“The one that shall be arriving from Tyrell camp.”

“You’re too optimistic, Ned,” Arthur said.

“We shall see.”

Next morning, Arthur was awoken early from his sleep. It was early morning. Very early. Sun won’t be appearing on the horizon for quite some time. Arthur dressed up and joined the others outside. Outside, it wasn’t completely dark. He was told by Robert to get ready for a ride. Apparently, Ned was right. They did receive a messenger last night. Who was it? Hoster Redwyne, brother to Lord Paxter Redwyne and cousin to Lord Mace Tyrell.

So they headed out to another meeting. A smaller one this time. Robert was only accompanied by his grandfather, Arthur, Ned, Lord Gulian Swann, Hoster Redwyne and some ten guardsmen.

“We could be walking into an ambush,” Arthur laid out his concern.

“Its open ground. Its almost impossible to lay down an ambush,” Robert said, “And even if we are, I’ll first slit Lord Hoster’s throat and then we gallop back to our camp.”

Hoster Redwyne smiled nervously. “Its alright, my lord. I assure you, you’re not being deceived.”

Despite Redwyne’s assurances, Arthur kept looking at his surroundings and strained his hearing. But he heard nothing. He noticed Ned Stark doing similar motions to assess their surrounding. If he detected any signs of an ambush, he gave no sign of it. Finally, Arthur noticed some figures.

Slowly, their party closed the distance and once again met the Lord of Highgarden. Mace Tyrell was early this time.

“Lord Tyrell,” Robert spoke and Arthur wondered if the man was even capable of not being loud, “I must say I was surprised to learn that you wished to meet.”

“Yes, Lord Baratheon,” Tyrell answered, “I have come with an answer to your offer of peace between our houses.”

“Answer! You said some discourteous things about Ned, Ser Arthur and Lady Ashara. Your own good-father Lord Leyton told us that he’d fight for Aerys Targaryen. I’d thought that was answer enough. What more could you have to say?”

“Fortunately, lord Leyton is not the Lord of the Reach. I am,” said Mace Tyrell, “and I do not wish to fight a war against Houses of Stark and Baratheon. Ser Arthur is not the first one with stories of the King’s madness, just the most credible one. And if half of these stories are true, me and mine house would do out best to stay away from this king. Unfortunately, I cannot support you in this war. But I will keep my forces at Highgarden, of that much, I assure you. So until this war is finished, enjoy the hospitality of the Reach from Bitterbridge.”

Robert looked at Mace Tyrell as if for the first time. He wasn’t the only one. Arthur himself had not expected such shrewdness from someone who is called ‘Lord Oaf’. He had heard of the infamous Queen of Thorns. Could it be that she had influenced her son on this matter?

“Why didn’t you say that yesterday,” Robert asked.

“Because my bannermen are just waiting for me to slip up. Alester Florent looks at me as if he wants to swallow me whole, Tarly stares at me as if I’ve spat on his face, Mathis Rowan is just waiting for me to fall off my horse. Even mine own good-father lord Leyton thinks that Hightowers share some kind of kinship with the Targaryens. All of them will revolt against me if I side with you. So this is what I’m left with.”

Robert nodded.

“Very well, Lord Tyrell. If an informal peace is the best you can give us, then so be it. Mayhaps we should exchange hostages.”

“Indeed. My cousin Hoster can come with you. Who would you send with us?”

Robert looked around at everyone. This was a part that he hadn’t prepared for, Arthur thought.

“I’ll come with you,” Lord Estermont volunteered. Everyone agreed to that. It was the best solution. He was Robert’s family, like Hoster Redwyne was to Mace Tyrell.

Lord Estermont slowly guided his mount to join the other side.

“Take care of my grandfather, Lord Tyrell. He’s the last one I’m left with.”

“Of course. Lord Eldon will have the best of Highgarden’s hospitality,” Mace Tyrell assured.

“And fear not, my lord,” Robert said, “once this war is done, we shall show these lords who is the lord of the Reach.”

A wide smile crept up on Tyrell’s face.

“Yes yes. Thank you….,” he said, and then added “your grace.”

That brought out a wild laughter from Lord Robert Baratheon.

They made their return journey to their camp, one man short. Sun was just making its presence felt at the horizon.

“So what now, my lord,” Arthur asked the would be king.

“Now we make for Bitterbridge and then to Riverrun. We have a wedding to attend,” he answered.

“Wedding,” lord Swann asked, puzzled.

“There was another messenger last night,” Eddard answered this time, “this one from Bitterbridge. Lord Hoster Tully insists that Brandon and Lady Catelyn’s wedding take place before any more battles.”

“And then we’re off to fight Connington,” Robert added, “is he any good, Arthur.”

“I’m told his swordsmanship is adequate,” Arthur answered.

Robert: “Rhaegar is dead. Why would he even fight for the Mad King?”

Arthur: “Would you not fight if someone did the same thing to Lord Eddard?”

Robert: “I would. But Ned is a brother to me.”

Arthur (smiled sheepishly): “I wouldn’t say Connington’s feelings towards Rhaegar were anything brotherly.”

Everyone eyed Arthur as if he’d grown two heads.

Robert (eyes boring into Arthur): “Are you saying Jon Connington is a pillowbiter?”

Arthur: “Well… Rhaegar once said Jon stared at him almost longingly and on many occasions, gave Rhaegar overly flattering compliments about his appearance.”

Robert looked like he tasted something bitter.

Robert: “I’d thought to kill that traitor myself. But now…. Gods Ned, why don’t you deal with him.”

Eddard(huffed in part amusement part annoyance): “Why Robert? Do you fear he’ll start humping you on the battlefield.”

Robert shook his head vigorously as if trying to oust the mental image that no doubt crept up on the more rebellious parts of his mind. “I wish to hear no more of this,” he said.

With that, Robert trotted his horse and rode ahead of them. Would he have similarly refused to kill Rhaegar if the crown prince shared Jon Connington’s inclinations, Arthur wondered. Of course, Arthur wasn’t even certain that it was Robert who killed Rhaegar. Neither of the four people who were witness to Rhaegar’s death ever said a thing about the manner of his death or who killed him.

Arthur pushed these thoughts from his mind and tried to prepare for what is to come. For him, this journey began when he sabotaged Brandon’s wedding by helping Rhaegar abduct his sister. With some luck, things will go better this time.

Chapter Text

Robert

Gods, this is life, thought Robert. Travelling, riding, fighting, leading a rebellion against a deranged madman. And the best of all, Ned and Lyanna were by his side. They rode at the head of an army. What more could a man want. All in all, Robert was very satisfied with his life. Even Arthur Dayne, who was travelling with him wasn’t such a bad company. Oh yes, he’d been Rhaegar’s lackey once. But that’s more a reason to pity the poor man. And the man was good with his shiny blade, everyone agreed. Robert had a mind to test him one of these days.

Sometimes, Robert dreaded what was at the end of this road. Either he’ll be dead by the end of the war, or he’ll be king. If he died, it’ll be on a battlefield and he’ll die like a man. And if he becomes king, then he’ll have to live in the pile of shit that is King’s Landing. He’ll have to suffer arse kissing from corrupt fools at court. But Lyanna will be by his side, as his queen. And with her at his side, he’ll suffer it all. He may even put some effort into cleaning the filth of King’s Landing. Even Ned and Jon will be there to help him. And once they’ve finished their work in the capital, they may even ride out for a royal progress like the Targaryens of old and Robert won’t have to look at King’s Landing for a year or two.

All that remained was to convince Ned to stay in the South. When they’d won their first battles, Robert had offered Ned lordship of Summerhall. But Ned refused. “But Robert, I’m of the North”, “But Robert, this place is cursed”, “Rhaegar used to spend a lot of time here”. These were all the excuses Ned kept giving him. But Robert would convince him, eventually. Ned never could say no whenever Robert was determined to employ his friend for one of his mischiefs.

Outriders from Riverrun were approaching them. Robert smiled at seeing a familiar face amongst them.

“Bronze Yohn,” Robert called out when the man was close enough to hear him, “who let you loose in these parts.”

“I came to make certain you don’t keep chasing your tail,” came the answer.

“I lost my tail when I needed something to bind the Reach lords  with in Highgarden. What’ve you been doing? Sitting around, twiddling your thumbs, is that it?”

“Ned,” Yohn greeted Ned, simply nodded at Arthur, and then greeted Lyanna with a wide smile, “my Lady, its good to see you. Come.” Then once again he turned to Robert. “You were not the only one having all the fun, my lord. We were putting the chains on Gulltown, while you were in the South doing Gods know what.”

“What happened at Gulltown,” Ned asked.

“Marq Grafton thought he could go around defying Lord Arryn. That didn’t end well for him. Your brother took his head.”

“I never did like that puckered nose of his,” Robert said.

“Shame on you, Robert,” Ned cried out, apparently in good humour, “you were the reason behind that puckered nose.”

Robert laughed at the memory. “Yes. Yes I was,” he had to admit.

Lyanna raised her eyebrows towards Robert. Curiosity flared in her eyes. “How,” she asked.

How? In truth, Robert wasn’t the only one to be blamed. A few years past, in early months of winter, all of Eyrie had come down to the Gates of the Moon. Marq Grafton was also visiting. He had some business with Jon. One day, a discussion about breeding of horses turned into a debate, which later turned into an argument between Denys and Grafton. Grafton hurled some nasty insults at Denys. Robert had disliked Grafton from the start. So that night, after more than a few drinks and much prodding from Robert, Denys challenged Marq Grafton to a duel. And fool that he was, Grafton accepted. Two days later, Denys and Grafton were circling each other in the yard. Even Jon was in attendance. The Duel didn’t last long. The contest was to be fought till first blood. And that first blood was spilled in abundance, when Denys ended up slamming the pommel of his sword in Grafton’s face.

Such was the tale of now deceased Marq Grafton and his puckered nose. And Robert narrated it to his companions in his courtly voice as they rode on to Riverrun.

Three armies were already gathered outside the gates of Riverrun. Banners of all notable Northern and Vale houses could be seen. Many Riverlands houses were present too, but many were not. Too many for Robert’s liking. Banners of House Whent were among the absentees. Apparently, Oswell Whent had failed in his mission. Robert instructed his lords to make camp next to the Riverlords.

Inside the River castle, they were greeted by the Tully family with much fanfare. Lady Catelyn was a great beauty, and very courteous. The younger girl was pretty too, but she looked like her sister had dragged her from sleep. Lord Tully’s boy was pleased to be there. The Blackfish looked as a hardened soldier should. And then there was Hoster Tully, the Lord of Riverrun. He was a broad-chested, hardened man, whose eyes saw everything and then some. Robert Baratheon had a newfound appreciation for the man. Robert himself had to recently fight his own treasonous lords. And Hoster Tully had the most unruly vassals and most indefensible lands. Robert wanted to compliment him for all his efforts at keeping his lords in line, but thought better of it.

After, Robert was shown to the chambers that were prepared for him. Ned and Lyanna headed off to meet their father. Robert himself was in no hurry to meet Ned’s father. The Lord of Winterfell could freeze a lake with his icy glare. Robert wondered what his good father thought of his pretensions to Aegon’s throne. And then another familiar thought came to him, What would Jon think? The Lord of the Eyrie was a second father to Robert, and had called his banners to seat him on the Iron Throne. But Robert was yet to hear what he truly thought of all this. “Robert, you’re capable of great things. But you must stop acting like a boy,” Jon would sometimes say to him. Would a claim to Kingship prove to Jon that he was a boy no longer?

He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. That very evening, after a good meal and restful sleep, Robert stepped out of his chambers to go look for Jon. It was no surprise when he met Ned on his way. They were still Jon’s wards. There had been no formal conclusion to their period of wardship. And they were used to reporting to the old man whenever they return from their time away from the Eyrie.

A servant guided them to the chambers occupied by Jon. Denys was coming out of the old man’s room. A familiar smile crept up on his face as he saw Ned and Robert approach.

“I hear you two are causing all the trouble these days,” he said.

“I was hoping to get some gratitude from you, good ser. I’m told war is a good time to earn glory,” Robert replied.

“And Riverrun is much warmer than the Gates,” Ned added.

“That it is. No doubt.”

“How are the kids? How’s my Mya,” Robert asked. He had left his daughter in Denys’ care at the Gates of the Moon before he left for Brandon’s wedding all those months back. Denys had a son Mya’s age, Ronnel. The children liked to play together.

“Others take those kids,” Denys said, half annoyed, half japing, “you want gratitude. Well, here it is. You boys rescued me with this war. Those children had turned my life into hell.” All three of them shared a laugh over that.

“How’s Jon,” Ned nodded towards the door.

“You know how he is. Anger is not in his nature. But when you three disappeared South, instead of meeting your father at Riverrun, Jon was most anxious. For months, we had no news of you. At least Ned is with them, he would sometimes say. Ravens flew between Winterfell and Gates of the Moon. Sometimes to Riverrun and Storm’s End as well. Your father said you were well. But those were the words of a father, who had three of his four children missing. When the raven finally came from Storm’s End, that breathed life back into the castle.”

Robert could almost see the cold winds blowing in the somber halls of the Eyrie. He had not realised how their months longs crusade had effected others. It seemed that these had been long months in Winterfell and the Gates of the Moon.

“Well, it seems we have some explaining to do,” Robert said, when the silence stretched on too long.

“Will he see us,” Ned asked Denys.

“Aye, you can go in. He’s been expecting you for a couple of days now.”

The guards outside Jon’s room made no move to stop them. The two stepped inside. At the far end of the room was a window, which gave a view of foggy cliff in distance. Next to the window, a large, well-polished, oaken desk was situated. And behind that desk sat Lord Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East. His hairline had grown more grey and more scarce. But the Old man looked as strong and invincible as ever. He was arranging what looked like maps and books on the desk.

“I heard you talking outside,” Jon spoke first, “I’ve been stuffed too long in this room. Let us get some cool air.”

Wordlessly, Ned passed Jon’s cotton and wool cloak which was hung on the adjacent wall. The Lord put it on and then he lead them out of the room, through the halls, up the stairs, through the halls again, up and up the stairs again, until they reached what could be considered the roof of most of the castle. Tully Guards stood looking out.

“Walk with me,” the old man says, and so they walk along the edge, breathing in the cool wind, looking out at Green and fog, and the four armies sprawled outside the castle.

“I was informed of this parley with Lord Tyrell,” Jon finally spoke, “what became it.”

“He has more sense than his lords, that much is evident,” Robert replied. Mace Tyrell had played his hand well. It would’ve been difficult for Robert to face off a host of fifty thousand with his own twenty, but Mace Tyrell had seen the wisdom in taking a middle ground. A Mad King is friend to none but his own whims. “We have come to an understanding with him.”

Jon hummed. “Mace Tyrell shall not bestir himself from Highgarden,” Ned added, “we’ve left lord Stannis with sixteen thousand men. That would be excuse enough for lord Tyrell to maintain his cautious posture. There will be small raids from both sides. But that should make little difference. If we’re able to overcome the King’s Hand, we should have no trouble in getting Tyrells to surrender.”

“Tyrell played his hand well. I sense his mother’s hand in this.” Jon stopped to look at the tents, a mass of all manner of colours and sigils. “Queen of thorns holds little love for the dragons.”

“You’ve met lady Olenna, my lord,” Robert and Ned came to stand on either sides of the old man.

“More times than I’d care to admit. The woman is unbearable.” Robert couldn’t help a smile that crept up on him. No doubt there was some interesting story behind those words. But this was no time for stories. “No matter. Her actions benefit us. Mace Tyrell will need to be rewarded for this. But that is a matter for tomorrow. For now, we have more pressing concerns.”

“The Hand of the King,” Ned, the ever dutiful pupil, added.

“Yes. Jon Connington gathers a host as large as our own outside the walls of King’s Landing. Even greater, by some estimates. Riverlands is divided, and its divided in their favour. Darry, Mooton, Cox, Bracken, Goodbrook, Lychester, Smallwood and Roote, have all abandoned their liege lord in favour of the king. If lord Frey does not join us, we may be outnumbered, I think.” That Riverlands would be divided was not a news to anyone. But this was worse than Robert had anticipated. But, Robert thought, there was a name Jon didn’t mention. And it seems Ned had the same thought. “What of the Whents,” he asked.

“We’ve sent people to Harrenhal. It was good of you to take the white knights without any harm. Ser Oswell may yet convince his kin.” If not, Robert thought darkly, the curse of Harrenhal will consume house Whent sooner than later.

“I’d thought to avoid this,” Jon said almost wistfully, looking at the tents, “Prince Rhaegar showed all the makings of a good king, an honourable man. ‘King Aerys is not like to live long,’ I thought, ‘the next king will have learned from his father’s undoing.’ But it seems the prince hid much and more behind his handsome face.” Robert’s fists tightened. “Now you see the truth, Jon. I did warn you about him.” It was true. He had never liked the Targaryen prince, even before he cast his evil eye on Lyanna. Rhaegar had always seemed too effeminate to him. A man who looks, speaks and acts like a woman, is not someone Robert Baratheon could trust. Harp is not a fit instrument for a royal prince. Sad lovelorn songs are not fit music for real men. It warmed Robert’s heart that other people were also seeing Rhaegar for what he truly was. A pathetic fool unfit to rule even a small village.

“Yes, you did.” Jon turned to Robert, pinning him in his place. “Rhaegar was punished for his crimes.” Not by my hands. “And now this cup has passed to you. Do care to remember that, boy.” You haven’t called me boy since the last time you called me boy. “If the Gods are good, you will soon mount the Iron Throne, and peace will return to these Seven Kingdoms. And the weight of that peace, will rest on your shoulders.” Jon reached and clapped Robert’s shoulders. “Your shoulders are strong, I know. But they’re not still. You are not still. Too restless. A king must be able to sit still, when needed. Destroying your enemies is only part of ruling. Can you stand still, Robert?” Self conscious, Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “Look at all these tents, lad. Look at all these men. They’ve come here, so far from their homes, from their wives and children. And they mean to seat you on a throne that never belonged to your father. Even if we should win, thousands of them will never return to their families. Thousands more will be maimed, disfigured for life. That is their sacrifice for a better future for Westeros. And you? You must make sacrifices of your own.”

And then the old man reached for Robert’s ear and pinched it hard between his fingers. Robert let out a hiss at the sudden pain. “Do you understand what sacrifices you have to make, boy.” Again?

“Yes, yes..yes,” Robert spat out.

Jon didn’t release his ear. “Don’t merely say yes. Think on it. Think on the sacrifices you must make.” What sacrifices? Robert knew what sacrifices. He tried to see himself buried in books, or trying to entertain his most useless lords. Yet all that came to his mind was Lyanna’s beautiful face. Lately, she had a woman’s grace about her. He thought of his life being married to that woman, of strong and beautiful children they will have. He thought on it long enough to satisfy Jon. He could see Ned sniggering on the other side. “Yes,” he said again, “I understand”. This time, Jon released him.

“Good. It is treason to chastise your king. So consider this your last chastisement.” Jon turned again. “I’m an old man. Soon I’ll be dead and buried. But Ned and Elbert will remain with you. They’re like brothers to you. They’ll give honest counsel, even when you don’t want to hear it. Listen to them. And never forget the fate of all the kings who forgot what it means to be king.” Robert and Ned just nodded.

“Now”, Jon patted the back of both their shoulders, “I know you’re itching to leave here.” He gave them a kind smile. “So be it. Tomorrow, all the gathered lords will meet in the great hall, and we can get on with the business of declaring your claim to the throne. Whispers and rumours have served us well. But its time we lay all our cards on the table.”

“Yes, my lord,” they said in unison. Jon nodded.

——————-x—————————x————————-x————————x———-

Next afternoon, the great hall of Riverrun was a scene of loud proclamations of valour, even louder curses for the treasonous lords of the Trident who had forsaken their liege lord, and crass mouthed insults to the Mad King. Ned’s well suited coinage for Aerys Targaryen had taken a life of its own.

Amidst the chaos, there was also some good news to celebrate. “Lord Walter has seen sense. Harrenhal is open to us,” Lord Hoster Tully declared. Riverrun received the bird last evening, and battle plans changed overnight. The plan had previously been to meet the Targaryen host near the crossing of Trident and Kingsroad. With the strong walls of Harrenhal at their backs though, there was a much better option.

“As big as Harrenhal is, it can house a host of this size.” Lord Stark’s gruff voice carried across the hall. “Its a dagger pointed at the heart of King’s Landing. Lord Connington will have no choice but to give battle. We shall meet him at the banks of God’s Eye.” His proclamation was followed by loud cheers. There was more, but others need not know what they need not know. That morning, Robert had discussed these plans with his closest allies.

After the wedding is done, Brandon and Ser Brynden will ride ahead of them and take the castle of House Darry. The Blackfish had once squired at Darry. That way, they would be faced with enemy in only one direction. Lord Karstark would take a thousand of his men and march to the fiefdoms of Riverlords who had turned traitors, and serve them in retribution. When the news of this reaches King’s Landing, Connington cannot possibly take a defensive stance. He will be hard pressed to meet them in battle. His supply lines will be stretched all the way to King’s Landing. Brandon will be given some five hundred men to harry them all the way. Too furious, too impatient, and too desperate, the lord of Griffin’s Roost will be half defeated before he even reaches God’s Eye.

Now there was one last issue to discuss. Lord Yohn Royce stood up from his chair and addressed the hall.

“M’lords, there is one more matter that demands our attention.” The lords ceased their talking and turned to listen to the lord of Runestone. Bronze Yohn continued. “The matter of crown.” That started the murmuring once again. Everyone had an opinion that they couldn’t wait to tell their neighbour. Seeing this, Bronze Yohn spoke even louder.

“Whose head shalt the crown rest upon, when this war has ended?”

Lymond Corbray stood up facing lord Royce. “What is there to discuss,” he said, “After prince Rhaegar, prince Aegon is next in line.” Robert had been well informed of lord Lymond’s love for dragons. He fought alongside Marq Grafton at Gulltown, and only switched sides when Grafton was slain and Gulltown was taken.

“A babe, still at his mother’s teat. With a Dornish mother at that,” Lord Dondarrion spoke out drily, still sitting in his chair. “That will be one long regency. I think not, m'lord. We all know how the last one turned out.” Robert thought of some half remembered maester’s lessons about the troubles of regency council, when the third Aegon wasn’t yet a man grown. But that was a long time ago. This Aegon shall not have a regency council. Nor a crown, for that matter.

“Lord Dondarrion speaks true,” one of the northern lords said. He wore the coat of arms of House Glover. “The Dornish side with the king still. ‘Ts no good, this rebellion, if we let the Dornish rule over us after all their crimes in defending mad Aerys.”

“Prince Viserys, then,” Lord Corbray tried again.

“Nay,” Brandon’s voice rang through the hall. He stood up from his front row seat and turned around to look Lord Lymond in the eye. The Lord of Heart’s Home flinched back under Brandon’s gaze. “Aerys Targaryen burns innocent men, women, and children alike to sate his cruelty. His son, Rhaegar Targaryen, abducted my maiden sister and kept her locked in some Dornish tower for months. And now you say that I must bow and scrape before his son? His brother? What happens when young prince Viserys decides that we are traitors for rebelling against his father’s cruelty? Nay, my lord. The reign of dragons is over, I say. The King, must be one of our own.”

It was then that he turned towards Robert at the high table. He raised his hand towards Robert and spoke. “There sits the King that will bring peace to these Seven Kingdoms. A true heir to the fifth Aegon, the last Targaryen king who behaved as men do, instead of a beast who mounts his own sister.” And at that, Brandon unsheathed his blade, went to his knee, pointed his sword at Robert’s feet, and proclaimed loudly in a voice that would be heard even in the far end of the castle.

“KING ROBERT BARATHEON.”

The hall went silent. For near three hundred years, this had never happened before. Iron Throne belonged to Targaryens, and none had dared to deny that. Blackfyres may have tried, but they too were dragons. Baratheons are no dragons. Baratheons are not Targaryens. Durran and Elenei’s blood flows strong through their veins. History was changed in this moment.

Lord Swann also came forth. “Aye, his lordship fights like the Warrior himself. There is no better choice. King Robert Baratheon,” he said as he knelt before Robert. And then, as if the flood gates were opened. In the beginning, it was only the Northern lords and Stormlords. But then came lords Blackwood, Royce, Redfort, Mallister followed by others. Chants of “Robert”, “Baratheon”, and “King Robert Baratheon” rang through the hall, and indeed, throughout the seven kingdoms for all Robert knew. Lords Arryn, Stark and Tully, who were sitting beside him on the high table, also went around the table, knelt before him and took up the chants. Feeling unreal, Robert slowly stood up from his chair. He looked down at the kneeling lords, his lords now, released a long sigh, and thought.

So be it .