Chapter One: Oswell

A dense fog surrounded the castle as Oswell Whent rode through the gate of his childhood home. He had forgotten the eerie atmosphere of the cursed castle and shivered slightly as long forgotten tales of lingering ghosts and tragic accidents flooded his thoughts. As he handed the reins to the waiting stable hand, he concentrated on refocusing his mind to the task at hand.

"Brother. It is good to see you." He grasped his older brother's hand firmly in a token of respect and affection.

"And you, Oswell. Please, sit."

The two brothers eased into the comfort of the solar, sipping delicious Arbor gold while trying to outdo one another with outrageous stories from their youth. Long after darkness had fallen, Lord Markus Whent walked to the door and checked to see that they would not be overheard. He had chosen this spot for its privacy, but one could never be too careful.

"Tell me, brother, how fares our king?"

Oswell held out a small clay jar for his brother's inspection.

"It's empty of course, but you know what it's made for." Oswell opened the jar so his brother could examine the thick walls and tight seal. Markus sighed.

"So, it is true then. I did not want to believe you."

"No one wants to believe their king mad."

"Yes, Aerys is a little mad. But he is still our king."

"Prince Rhaegar should be king."

"I have no doubts the prince will be a worthy ruler, but it is not yet his time."

"Markus, why will you not see reason? Tywin Lannister is no longer the Hand. Who will keep Aerys in check?"

Silence followed for several minutes as each man poured and consumed another glass of Arbor gold. The sweet wine mixed well with the tart pastries Markus' squire had brought them an hour before. Oswell stared at his brother, noticing suddenly that he was clean shaven. There was a gash on the right side of his jaw; the maester must have shaved his beard to treat the wound. A tiny trickle of wine escaped his brother's lips, leaving a glimmering trail down his chin.

"Brother," said Oswell slowly, "this jar is not the only one I've found. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. He….the king….he likes to burn things."

"I like to burn things. It keeps my feet warm at night."

"Markus, Aerys likes to burn….people. He sets them on fire and shrieks with delight as their skin melts off the bone. He….likes to make us watch."

There was a few more moments of silence before Markus found his voice again.

"Oswell, I didn't realize. Oh gods, I didn't know."

"Markus, the Dragon Prince must become the new king."

"And how does the prince feel about deposing his own father?" Markus' tone reminded Oswell of a little boy who has just been scolded and feels the need to defend himself. Markus always did have too much pride, a family trait, Oswell admitted to himself.

"He knows it is necessary. He wants to speak with you."

"He is more than welcome to visit anytime he chooses."

"Markus, he wants you to host a tournament. Here, at Harrenhall."

Oswell smiled as the unexpected suggestion made Markus forget all about his petulant mood and give in to his curiosity, as Oswell had known it would.

"A tournament? Why?"

"It would allow him to meet with us as well as several of the other lords without attracting unwanted suspicion."

"Ah, of course." Markus took another long gulp of wine. "You know, my wife did just give birth to a beautiful daughter."

"It will be done, then?"

"His Grace may count on my full cooperation."

"Then I shall leave at first light. There is much to prepare." Oswell headed to the door. His hand was on the handle when he heard his brother's rough whisper.

"Oswell, be safe."

"I will try, Markus. I will try."