Update!
Sorry I'm answering some questions late!
Regarding Rhaenys' hair from last chapter: Aye, I know it was brown, my apologies. It will be from now on J
Regarding the state of Rhaegar's army in Prologue: Rhaegar and Robert (in this AU) fought in a duel prior to the battle, before the armies engaged. The rebel's morale fell drastically after Robert was defeated, and the rebel lords sent most of their men home on Rhaegar's orders.
Regarding Jaime: That shall be revealed later, my dear readers ;)
EDDARD
The morning mists broke for their approach toward Storm's End.
Eddard Stark patted his big black stallion, trying to calm it. She had been uneasy all morning since they departed in the early pink of dawn.
"Perhaps," suggested Morwin, the horsemaster he had appointed, when they had been preparing to depart, "Lord Eddard, the old girl is hungry? We've been riding for close on an hour, m'lord."
Ned tried to feed the horse, but still the stallion was whickering and staggering away from a simple insect on the side of the road. He sighed, giving up finally.
Storm's End had stood for thousands of years, and it was lucky to still be standing after the Tyrells and their army of Reachmen had started the siege there. Being one of the strongest castles in all of the Seven Kingdoms, its defenses were strong and the walls even stronger.
The wall surrounded the entire castle in a massive stone outer curtain wall, one hundred feet high and forty feet thick, they said… on its thinnest side. On the seaward side of the wall it was almost eighty feet thick. The anatomy of the wall was composed of a double course of stone with an inner core of sand, gravel and rubble. The wall was not like others, obviously, but the surface of it was smoother than any other wall Ned had seen, curving around the keep within. In legends his foster father, Jon Arryn, had told him when he was a child, many said that the stones were so perfectly inlaid into the wall the wind could find way to reform the wall.
Ned grunted softly. Stannis did a good job in this rebellion; the only one to do so on our side, it seems.
Green tents and the sigils of many lords and knights of the Reach were still standing when they arrived on the outskirts of the castle, even though the siege and war had ended. Ned could recognize the Tyrell golden rose, the Ashford white sun-and-chevron, the three beehives of Beesbury, the red fox of Florent, the red and green apple Fossoways (both on opposite sides of the camp, he did not fail to note), the white tower of Hightower, the lords of Oldtown, the golden horn-of-plenty of Merryweather, the grape cluster of Redwyne, and many, many more.
Rhaegar drove the party toward the largest tent in the camp, a golden pavilion on top of a hill half the size of Storm's End's walls. Two Tyrell golden roses on green were stuck in the ground on either sides of the tent flap, as were four guards in single file in front each of those flags. Two knights, both wearing the Hightower sigil.
The oldest one was no more than fifty, covered from head to toe with grey and white, chain and plate. His beard was close cropped and ran from upper lip to chin, not touching his cheeks. Brown hair speckled with grey ran down to his shoulders, combed back from the old man's forehead. His grey wool cloak was dirty and weathered, the Hightower sigil knitted into it.
The Silver King dismounted like an angel, gracefully, like a true king. Robert would have been a true king as well… Rhaegar grinned at the old Hightower man. "Greetings, Lord Leyton. I have not had the pleasure of seeing you since the Tourney of Harrenhal."
Ned frowned. The Old Man of Oldtown? He never leaves the Hightower, I heard.
Lord Leyton Hightower returned the smile. His grey eyes were cold, not complimenting the smile in any way. "The pleasure and honor is mine, Your Grace. I had been quite busy after that tourney. Add that to my participation in this war, and that is a very busy time for me."
"I understand, Lord Leyton," Rhaegar replied, still grinning with perfect white teeth. "Is Lord Mace within?"
The old Hightower sighed. "Aye, Your Grace. He is not happy, I must warn you. After we were told you had won your stunning victory at the Trident against the traitor…" He glanced over to Eddard and his Stark men. "… we had rode to the gates of Storm's End and ordered Stannis to stand down and open his gates, that the war had been won in favor of our cause." He inhaled and sighed deeply. "He did not believe us. He ordered his men to fire their arrows down upon us. Two of my own men died, along with others, including Lord Mace's cousin Luthor, the son of my City Watch Commander, who is Mace's uncle. We were under the white flag, Your Grace."
From inside the tent, yelling could be heard. Everyone's heads snapped to the opening tent flap. A short and plump young man squirmed out of the pavilion on all fours, almost crying.
A large and enraged old man barreled after the young one. His bald head shone against the morning sun just like his pauldrons, mounted on his broad shoulders, shone against it as well, but brighter. His full beard ran all the way to the top of his chest, which was like his face was covered in salt and pepper. His sigil over his mail armor was split in half; one half was the golden rose of Tyrell, the other the white tower of Hightower. His heavy, grey, silk cloak billowed in the wind as he stomped toward the youth.
He kicked the boy in the arse, knocking him down and getting his tears flowing. "Now get out of my sight and learn your courtesies, you little shit. My son just died and you expect me to-" He stopped midsentence wide-eyed, staring at Rhaegar. He cleared his throat, bowing slightly, embarrassed clearly. "Your Grace. I er… apologize, for that rude and… unsightly behavior."
King Rhaegar frowned, his smile gone. "Would you like to explain yourself, ser?"
The other Hightower, the one with Lord Leyton, stepped forward finally. His blonde hair swayed as he took a couple steps toward the angry addition to the conversation. His teeth were almost as bright as Rhaegar's. His clean shaven face made it seem even brighter than it actually was. "Your Grace, forgive Ser Moryn. He is… under a lot of pain. His is the son that was slain while we went to negotiate with Stannis."
Ser Moryn Tyrell. He was the Commander of the City Watch of Oldtown, uncle to Lord Mace. Why the hell is he all the way over here and not commanding his Watch?
Rhaegar nodded. "Ser Moryn. I am sorry for your loss. But we can mourn the fallen later. After this mess," he gestured to Storm's End, "is dealt with. Stannis will surrender or he will die."
"The retched man should die anyway, Your Grace," said Ser Moryn. "My eldest son is now rotting in the ground thanks to that sour fuck." He spit on the ground.
"And so were many others killed, Ser Moryn." This was Ned's first time speaking since they started riding this morning.
Ser Moryn glared with loathing at Ned, grinding his teeth. "More of you rebel's than loyal men of the realm, Stark."
"Enough," the Silver King interrupted. He gave Ned a sharp look, no expression of anger on his face, but it still cut to the core of a man's being.
The Dragonking, after staring at Ned for a time to get the point across, motioned for him, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Jonothor Darry to follow him into the pavilion. The Hightower's followed while Ser Moryn remained outside, glaring at Ned while he passed.
Lord Mace Tyrell was sitting on a camp stool drinking out of a silver wine cup at his desk when they entered. Despite the morning chill, the Lord Tyrell was sweating under his plate and chain. His massive and muscular frame was almost comparable to Robert before…
Eddard swallowed. Do not think about him, Ned, not here, not now. The Lord of Highgarden's curly and brown hair bounced every time he moved a muscle. His beard was in the shape of a spade. Ned's lips curled into a ghost of a smile. How odd these southerners are.
Mace almost choked on his wine when the king entered. He immediately stood and bowed. "Your Grace." A trickle of wine ran down his chin and slithered down his neck. "What a very pleasant surprise. You honor me with your presence. I… I mourn for your father, blessed be his memory."
Ass-kisser this one is, isn't he?
Rhaegar clasped Lord Mace on the shoulder. "Rise, Lord Mace. You honor me as well. You have held Stannis at bay for close on a year, and the realm thanks you for that." He moved over to the other side of Mace's desk, pulling up a camp stool. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
The Flower Lord sat not even a second after he was bid to. He grabbed the flagon of wine, offering the king some. "Yes, Your Grace, as you will."
Rhaegar took a cup and filled it with the Arbor gold. "First. Tell me of this incident with the surrender envoy."
Mace sighed. "Anything Lord Leyton there told you already is all you need to know. We went under the white banner and he fired upon us. He thought it was a ruse to lure him out of the castle. I swear the man has gone mad, Your Grace. I hear that he has ordered his men to eat the corpses of his fallen."
"I would do the same if my men were without food for close on a year, Lord Mace."
"Aye, but the dead? I would sooner resort to eating grass."
You're a southerner, you probably do. Odd men you southerners are.
Rhaegar sipped his wine a moment, then set it down. "If Stannis had gone mad, he would have surrendered by now. Stannis Baratheon is not a man to surrender whilst sane. He may be new to the whole war scenario, but he is an exceptional military commander. He will not surrender until he is told Robert is dead."
Mace shook his head. "Your Grace we have already-"
"He will be told by the one who killed him, Lord Tyrell."
Everyone gaped except Ned. He kind of saw it coming; it was the only way to convince Stannis to surrender, and it had to come from the one who placed the sword stroke into his old friend's neck.
It took a good hour for the party to set off toward Storm's End's main gate and confront Stannis Baratheon, for the good of all.
The massive five-and-thirty foot gate main gate was sealed shut so tight it would take all of the giant's in all eternity to push it open, it seemed. Archers were stationed on the battlements, trying to hide, but Ned could see them. Their arrows were knocked and ready.
Rhaegar stopped directly in front of the main gate, shouting up to the battlements. "I call forth Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and House Baratheon."
They waited several minutes before the skinniest man Ned Stark had ever seen appeared on the battlements above them. His lean frame was naught but skin and bone, not muscle nor string of fat could be visible in the silhouette above them. "Who the fuck is calling me this time?" the man shouted from the battlements. "Another flowery cunt come to get himself feathered with arrows?"
Ned smiled. Stannis Baratheon. I finally meet you… and I'm on the wrong side.
"Rhaegar, of the House Targaryen. I have come to you with an offer."
"The damned Tyrell boy came with an offer as well, look where it got him, Silver Prince." Venom was in the last words spoken.
"Silver King now, Stannis. And you are now Lord Stannis Baratheon. Robert has been slain in combat, my lord."
Silence. Stannis, after a moment, yelled down, "You lie. Show me the proof then, Dragonking. Where is it written that my brother is dead?"
Ned rode forward, earning a sharp glance from Rhaegar. "Stannis! I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and former foster-brother to your brother, and my friend. I shall give you the proof you need. Robert has often told you of my honor and my undying brotherhood to him."
"Aye, he loved… oh, almost fell for your lie… I meant loves, you more than me."
"Loved is correct, Lord Stannis. Robert was slain at the Trident, we surrendered in good faith to King Rhaegar. Aerys is dead, slain by Jaime Lannister, as well. Our revenge is complete. We can end this without bloodshed."
Silence, then "How can I know you are telling the truth? Bah, you aren't anyways, best leave before I have my men here do what they did to that flowery little Tyrell boy to you, Your Grace." The archers bent there bows back, aiming for Rhaegar. The Kingsguard rode their horses forward, loosening their swords.
Rhaegar blinked a bit. "Lord Stannis, do you know how many men we have out here? The Tyrell host is near fifty-thousand strong, and the Redwyne Fleet blockades your seaside exit. Your men will be able to eat, drink, sleep well, have a warm fire, and see their loved ones again if you surrender in good faith. We have food out here for you, and drink. Water, all the things you have not had in a year. Surrender, and you will be forgiven for your rebellious ways."
Stannis turned to each of the two men that just joined him on the battlements, talking. He turned back. "How do we know the truth of your words, Rhaegar Targaryen? How can we trust the son of the king that slaughtered women and children just because he felt like it?"
Ned craned his neck up to stare at Stannis. "King Rhaegar did the same to me as he will to you. He will treat you with honor, not as a prisoner. You and your men will be given all that he has promised and more, Lord Stannis."
Silence again. "I'll be pardoned for everything? That means I'll still be Lord of Storm's End and of the Stormlands?"
Rhaegar nodded. "Aye, but that should not be your concern, Lord Stannis. Your concern should be the lives of the men under your command. I shall give you a warm hearth and a hot meal. But only if you open your gates and give up your lost and pointless cause."
Ned tried to read Stannis, find out what his angle was. He obviously did not like Ned, after surrendering to Rhaegar. He could see that Stannis would not give up Storm's End easily though.
Stannis turned back to Rhaegar. "The gates will be opened. But only if you send back your men and enter the castle alone, so we can discuss the terms in privy."
Rhaegar chuckled, shaking his head. "I will not have another Duskendale, Lord Stannis. Surrender the castle or your men will starve, or get slaughtered. Easy as that."
Silence once again.
Stannis was visibly tempted and shaking with nervousness after that. "Eddard Stark… you are a man of honor, as my brother so often reminded me when he came to visit…you swear it? By the old gods and the new?"
Ned licked his lips. We have him. It is done. "Lord Stannis. Open your gates and you shall be given food and a warm fire. I swear it by the old gods and the new, and may King Rhaegar bear witness to my vow, that you shall be not be harmed nor insulted when you open these gates."
The silence after that was like an eternity.
The rusted hinges creaked loudly, and the gates to Storm's End opened.
Ned smiled and laughed, almost crying. And so it ends… but not how it should have. Robert and me would have broken the siege and saved Stannis.
Oh Robert… it should not have ended this way…