RHAEGAR
Lewyn Martell accompanied Rhaegar as they rode through the Kingswood at the head of the Royal Army of Dorne. Truth be told, he was rather terrible company, not speaking a word to him the entire way, though he rarely left his side. Prince Lewyn, one of his father's Kingsguard had been sent to gather the Dornish to siege of Storm's End moons ago, but with the news that soon to be broken by the Tyrell forces encamped outside the walls, they had continued north through the Prince's Pass to join the Royal Army of King's Landing and rout Robert Baratheon's weakened forces.
Seven hells, the battle might already be over since Jon Connington had been rumored at Bitterbridge to have been put at the head of the army. Rhaegar thought fondly of his friend—nay his brother, for that was what Jon was to him—and wished him well in his battle, while praying to the warrior.
Upon leaving the Tower of Joy, Rhaegar had told Lyanna not to worry, he would not have yet another of her family killed if it were in his power to prevent it. Though secretly he held that if Jon did kill her brother in battle he would count himself lucky for not having to deal with the situation at all. For some strange reason Lyanna had not taken to this news well. She had stared at him as though he were some creature she had ne'er known before, and when he had tried to assure her of his good intentions to do right by her remaining kin by promising to only banish her traitor elder brother while keeping the younger as Lord of Winterfell when ascending to the throne himself, Lyanna merely continued to view him with her rather suspicious looking eyes.
What more did the she-wolf want from him? Her elder brother was a declared traitor, and traitors should rightly die. That he was willing to banish him was a great mercy and favor for her. Could she not see that? But then, these days Rhaegar knew not what Lyanna truly wanted and he doubted she did either. To entice her to come with him he had promised her his love and freedom after she had given birth and then weaned Visenya. He promised her everything for the sake of Visenya. He had e'en ensured her safety by finding a remote tower to call hers until Visenya was of age to be brought to court. He had provided everything and what did he get in return? Nothing but silent suspicious stares, that's all she had done since the rumors of her father's and eldest brother's deaths had reached Dorne. She had wanted to leave then—had even tried to escape—but she had not yet gotten with child, like she had promised him, and the dragon must have three heads.
Everything was ready for when Visenya was to come, of that Rhaegar prided himself on. He had waited until Lyanna was sure she was truly pregnant before leaving—he had figured the cycle of Lyanna's moon's blood relatively simply and during the key days had focused all his attention on getting Lyanna with child. As the weeks turned into moons, Lyanna had not been as eager as she had at first, but Rhaegar continued despite what she may have said. His son, the prince who was promised needed a Visenya. The dragon would have three heads and the song of ice and fire would begin… his son, the Prince who was Promised, would then save Westeros and all would be as it should. The only problem was the drunken stag and his followers. Why must these lords be so difficult? Could they not understand that this was what was best for the realm? No, all they could see was a small trifle of a personal slight—they were such selfish men to not see beyond that. Such matters were below the consideration of a dragon. A dragon thought of the good of the whole realm—not just some insignificant corner of it—and did what was best for them all, e'en if it meant offending some lord's honor. The dragon must have three heads, or else the Prince would fail, song of ice and fire would not come to pass and Westeros would be plundged into eternal winter.
Lyanna's moods must be due to the babe. She was but only a few moons big with child, but he had seen his own mother act abnormally when she had had Viserys—and his otherwise sweet Elia had grown rather vicious herself when with Rhaenys and Aegon. Yes that was what it must be. The child was simply bringing out more of the wolf in Lyanna that was all—dragons it seemed had that capability.
Rhaegar was brought out of his reverie then by Lewyn, as two of the Dornish men dragged a man with a grey direwolf sigil upon the tunic over his armor was brought before him. The man was swollen, beaten, and bloodied, and he looked upon Rhaegar and Lewyn with that strange mixture of fear and hate that Rhaegar
"A rebel spy, my Princes," clarified one of the men dragging
"A Stark spy it seems. What are you doing so far south of the Neck, little wolf?" chided Lewyn
The man spoke not a word. Rhaegar was about to demand the lad with brown hair answer his father's Kingsguard, but the Dornish prince interceded.
"Let me handle this runt, my Prince," he assured in that soothing Dornish manner of him that was at once assuring and frightening—at least it seemed so to
"What's your name, boy?" asked Prince Lewyn. Still the lad was silent. Prince Lewyn knew his task and took off his gauntlet and struck the boy's face yet again, repeating his question once more.
"Cassel… Jory Cassel," answered the boy with some trepidation.
"There now was that so hard?" asked the Prince.
It was several more minutes and a few more reminders of the pain of the gauntlet before Rhaegar had heard enough of the Northern boy's tale to understand the full grasp of their situation. He was bound and would be forced to walk as a prisoner the rest of the way to King's Landing, which they must make with all haste.
Seven be merciful… please let Jon have lived!
As Prince Lewyn mounted his horse once more, Rhaegar brought himself back to the present and took stock of the Kingsguard's face—it was hardened as stone and unforgiving.
"You were rather harsh on the boy," commented Rhaegar coolly.
"You may not care for my niece's life, goodnephew, but I do," said the Prince stiffly as he continued to accompany him along the journey, picking up their pace as they continued on the Roseroad through the Kingswood.