As usual, big thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Different Endings
Take It to the End
In the last years of his reign, Prince Daeron proved the chief obstacle to Aegon's misrule. Some lords of the realm clearly saw opportunity in the increasingly corpulent, gluttonous king who could be convinced to part with honors, offices, and lands for the promise of pleasures. Others, who condemned the king's behavior, began to flock to Prince Daeron…
When you had known one long enough, their face was as easy for you to read as a book. The moment Ser Rogar Redtree entered his solar, Daeron knew that his old companion would tell him something that he'd rather go without.
"They insist that you receive them," Rogar said without preamble.
The Prince didn't need to ask who they were. Not because he had any idea of their identities. He didn't. But there was only one kind of people Rogar spoke of with such tone.
"What has he done now?" Daeron asked tiredly, bracing himself to hear of a new law being passed of giving lordship to those who gave their daughters for Aegon's lust, or maybe an army being gathered to conquer Sothoros…
In his old friend's eyes, there was worry that immediately afflicted him as well. "I don't know," Rogar said. "They insist that they speak to you alone. But I'm telling you, my lord, this isn't good. I've rarely seen them so troubled."
"Father is always troubled lately," a young voice piped in. "That's what Mother says."
The two men looked at the bottom of the room where two little boys were playing with puppies. In fact, they were… Ser Rogar squinted to make sure he was seeing right. Daeron only sighed and shook his head. "They've been so quiet that I forgot they were here," he muttered. "Always a bad sign."
He went to them and unceremoniously took the pastries the four of them were sharing, meeting the protesting cries with a stern look. "You'll get the puppies sick," he said. "They don't eat sweets."
To Ser Rogar, it looked like they did, so it was no wonder that Daeron's youngest sons used the same argument, quite articulately at that. Maybe Ilena was right and younger children did learn everything at early age by imitating their older siblings.
Clearly putting an end to the issue – and not one the children liked, by the look of it, - Daeron returned to him. "Come here," he said. "I don't want them to overhear anything."
"Do they understand at all?" Ser Rogar wondered, following him to a corner.
"No," Daeron replied dryly. "But they memorize and repeat when I least expect it, and unfortunately they can speak quite clearly. With children around, your conversations basically become their hostages." He smiled faintly. "Soon, you'll learn that by yourself."
"So, we have people coming from King's Landing," he went on, not taking a seat. It was clear that he'd go out to receive the newcomers. But for now, he wanted to learn as much as possible. Ser Rogar did notice, however, that the spot Daeron had chosen let him keep an eye on his sons. "Are you sure you haven't heard… anything?"
One of Ser Rogar's many talents was his ability to keep himself and by extension, Daeron, apprised of most things that happened in the Seven Kingdoms. Most important things, at least. Daeron gladly sponsored his broad net of informants, many of whom had wormed their place in the very heart of Aegon's court without ever falling under suspicion, unlike the Prince of Dragonstone's highborn allies.
"There has been some talk about dragons," Ser Rogar said reluctantly. "And Dorne."
Daeron went white. "The Seven save us," he muttered. "What is he going to do now?"
The hazel and purple eyes met with the same anger. Like Daeron, Rogar was wed to a Dornishwoman, one of Myriah's favourite ladies-in-waiting. She was great with child, the first one after years of marriage, and she had to give birth in a world where her homeland and that of Rogar's fought each other. If I didn't know him, I would have thought he planned it this way, to spoil it all for Rogar and Ilena, Daeron thought. Of course, knowing Aegon didn't mean that it was beneath his father to do such a thing. It simply meant that Rogar and Ilena weren't important enough for him to include them in his consideration. Maekar's birth had taken place in another attempt to repeat the Young Dragon's achievement – and Daeron was sure it had not been a coincidence.
"Nothing good, I'd wager," Rogar said darkly. "I am sorry, I know he's your father and our king but…"
Daeron lifted a hand. "Don't apologize," he said. "The fact that you're up to your neck in this foul business along with me entitles you to state your opinion freely."
He squared his shoulders. "Let's go to them," he said. "Just wait for a minute…"
Despite the gravity of the situation, Rogar Redtree could not help but smile as Daeron ordered for his sons' attendants to be brought over. Clearly, small children were not allowed to be left alone even for a moment. Watching one of them trying to lift a puppy by the tail, he could understand that reasoning.
Of course, the newcomers had already been offered nourishments and the chance to wash the grim of the travel off. They had only accepted the latter. Recognizing the importance of their arrival, Princess Myriah had arranged for their meals to be brought over to a smaller, more private dining room. Upon entering, the two men found her with their guests, the perfect hostess, a polite but remote one which was a good thing, given the fact that one of their guests was no other than Robar Baratheron, the Lord of Storm's End who, despite being a supporter of Daeron and keen on living in peace with Dorne, borne Dornishmen no love. Ilena was nowhere to be seen and Daeron and Rogar supposed that Myriah had sent her away, so she would not have to bear Baratheon's dislike.
The other two arrivals were no less disturbing. Lord Grey, King Viserys' Master of Ships whom Aegon had immediately stripped of his post. Lord Darry whom Lady Melissa Blackwood had wed after Aegon had grown tired of her. Unlike Robar Baratheon, those two were men who would not undertake such a journey just because they passionately disagreed with a decision of the King's.
"Welcome to Dragonstone, my lords," Daeron spoke. "I trust you were welcomed as befitting your rank?"
They muttered that they had been. Ignoring the meaningful looks they gave Myriah, Daeron took a seat and asked quite bluntly what was going on. The answer curdled his blood.
It had, indeed, something to do with dragons. Not real dragons, of course. Dragons built of wood and iron, with pumps that would bathe Dorne in wildfire… and any hope of ever ending the hostility. Damnation takes him, Daeron thought. His mother would have been terrified to know that he didn't even beg forgiveness from the Seven for this thought that had been most sincere.
"And he intends to take them there by sea?" he asked, wondering whether there even were ships sturdy enough to bear this kind of burden.
"No," Lord Darry replied. "He intends to drag them through the Boneway."
Blessed be the gods for this small mercy, Daeron thought when Robar Baratheon spoke. "Your Grace, you know I bear Dornishmen no love." Here, he glanced at the Princess but did not apologize. "I have spilled my blood more than once in warring with them. But even the Young Dragon could not keep them. They don't want us and won't suffer us there. This scheme of the King's is only a new way to lay waste upon our lands – and it will be us, the Stormlanders, along with the Reach, that will suffer most. I will not stand for this. If we leave your father to his devices, he'll ruin the Seven Kingdoms in no time at all. Just say the word, and we'll make sure that his unworthy reign will end soon."
Daeron's jaw clenched. He understood very well what word was expected of him. He looked at Grey and Darry. They nodded grimly.
For a long time, he stayed silent, contemplating the various possibilities. If he took a stand against his father now, that would only lead to more bloodshed. The dragons might not be turned against Dorne but against Daeron's allies, for sure. And for all his excesses, Aegon still enjoyed many supporters – sorry excuse of human beings Daeron would take care of as soon as he mounted the Iron Throne but numerous anyway.
It would not be long until this moment came. And he could make sure that the dragons never reached Dorne anyway. But if he took arms against his father now, no one could say what the outcome would be. Myriah and the children might pay the price for his dare, along with countless others.
Should he declare against Aegon, he'd better be ready to take the fight to the very end. There would be no reprieve, no quarter from either side. Daeron would not get his people in something that he could not get them out of. Not while there were other means.
He did not say the word.
Had any whiff of proof come into their hands to show that Prince Rhaegar was conspiring against his father, King Aerys' loyalists would most certainly have used it to bring about the prince's downfall.
… The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all accounts a wild and boyish young thing, with none of Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king.
"Are you sure about this?"
Lewyn Martell's eyes were dark and graver than Rhaegar had ever seen them. His voice was low, as if he feared that there might be traitors here, under Rhaegar's very roof. His caution angered Rhaegar, for Lewyn was anything but that. Should he start now, when Rhaegar was about to finally start implementing a plan and not only vaguely talking about it or doing small things to subtly undermine the danger his father was to everyone?
"Yes," he said, deliberately not lowering his voice. He would not hide in his own home. And he trusted his people. Still, Lewyn flinched. "I am. This is a chance to get them together and talk of the most important things, instead of trusting ravens and codes. You are against important things being trusted ravens as well."
Lewyn drew a hand across his forehead. "Yes, but this… it's different. Are you sure the money cannot be traced back to you?"
Rhaegar sighed, irritated. "Yes, I am. But even if it can, what of it? Sponsoring a tourney held by one of the Houses that have always been most loyal to the Crown is no crime and no one can prove any bad intention."
"Do you think your father will need any kind of proof if he gets it in his head that it's another case of you conspiring against him?" Lewyn asked. "Do you realize what kind of storm you can end up unleashing if you make a small mistake?"
Rhaegar had some idea, as much as it was possible, with the way his father got worse every day. But it did not matter. Because he wasn't going to make a mistake.
"What is he going to do?" he asked. "Do you really think he'll actually do something against me? Even Aegon the Unworthy didn't go this far."
Lewyn and Elia shared a look of dismay, the same thought crossing both their minds at the same time: Rhaegar's love of books might serve all of them ill here. One had to know the past and learn from it – but not mistake it for the present. Rhaegar's attempt to make sense of the realm's current situation by comparing it to an entirely different situation scared them quite badly.
In Elia's arms, Rhaenys whimpered.
"Aegon was an unworthy." Elia said softly, rocking the babe. "Not mad."
Rhaegar turned to her and raised a hand to her cheek, not quite touching it. He rarely did. "I know," he said. "That's why we have to take care of my father immediately. We cannot afford to wait like Daeron the Good did. I might never get another chance like this one."
Elia looked down. "I know," she said. "I just… I guess I just want to be sure that you know… there would be no coming back. If you started making alliances at the tourney, you'll have to fight your father to the very end, with whatever means you have at your disposal. It won't leave place for anything else in your life."
Her apprehensions had taken even her aback, so she could not fault him for being surprised as well. Wasn't that what she had wished for since she had first realized just how unstable her good-father was? Yet now when the chance to start implementing their plans was so near, Rhaegar's attitude scared her. She shared his goals but his certainty that he'd win unsettled her deeply. He took the upcoming strife as a necessary hardship and not something that could easily go both ways. And that meant that for all his cleverness, he might not understand what he would be facing. What they would be facing. Elia held the babe closer.
Rhaegar nodded. "I will make the changes that are needed," he said. "Now. And the new beginning would come."
Elia tried to believe him, yet she could not help but notice that he seemed to give no thought to the past that would cling to the future as it was wont to. One could not shake the past so easily. And not in a single moment. Rhaegar had the brains and heart to implement the change they all desired. Elia prayed that he'd only have the endurance he needed, as well.
"He did what?"
Her voice echoed in the bedchamber, a shrill and unpleasant sound that made her cringe. But that was just a fleeting thought because her mind was now angled toward things that were more important. More humiliating. More deadly.
"He disappeared with that girl?"
Now, her voice was dull, entirely even.
Her uncle took her hand. "He did."
Elia wanted to shout that it was impossible. Rhaegar wouldn't humiliate her like this. Not again. Not for the same little whore who batted her eyelids at him and played it all innocent. And to think that the moment the girl had received the crown of roses Elia had pitied her! Lyanna Stark had looked such a surprised, wretched little thing, confused and not knowing how to react. Not daring to look Elia in the eye. In less than a year, she had gathered enough effrontery to run away with Elia's husband.
But that was a minor thought in the whirlwind overtaking her mind. Rhaegar had sworn that it had been just a fleeting thing, a mistake made on the spur of the moment. As painful as it was to realize that she had not even figured in her husband's considerations, Elia had tried to forgive him. She had believed that he was trying to make his life with her, with no place for the girl. He had been so happy during her pregnancy and at Aegon's birth.
The birth. That was it. Elia wanted to scream, so she did. "He went after his damned third head of the dragon!" she shrieked. "He's been obsessed with that musty prophecy ever since he saw that blasted comet. And now, knowing that I could not give him the third head, he felt justified in going after her. Damn you, Rhaegar!"
She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Lewyn pushed a goblet against her and she drank. The tea helped her parched mouth but did nothing for her fear. The events of the tournament played back in front of her – the pride in Rhaegar's victory, the anticipation, the dumb disbelief when he passed her over, the stunned silence, and Aerys' suspicions after…
And now Rhaegar had disappeared. With the girl who had furthered the rumours of a plot, of all people.
"We have to leave," she said sharply, pushing the goblet aside. Her fingers shook so badly that she spilled it all over the sheets and her nightgown. "Now!"
"Leave?" her uncle asked. "Elia, you're bedridden. You cannot go anywhere."
"I am healthy already. I am rising from this bed. Don't you believe me? Just watch!"
She kicked the coverings aside, stepped on the floor and keeled dangerously, her head spinning, her limbs heavy and uncooperating. Lewyn steadied her but when he tried to lay her back on the bed, she pushed him away weakly.
"It doesn't matter! We have to go to Sunspear! Go to the children's rooms. Tell the servants to pack up. Only the most important things. We have to get out of here before the King gets to us!"
He didn't need any explanations. With Rhaegar gone with Lyanna Stark – Lyanna Stark – Aerys would demand explanation from the people he could get his hands upon. Rhaegar's wife. And he bore no love to his Dornish grandchildren either.
"Eat something," he said. "I'll go to the harbour and order a ship. When I come back, I want all of you ready. The children. You. All those who accompanied us here."
"And those Rhaegar didn't think to take along," Elia insisted. "We cannot leave them to Aerys' wrath."
There was a knock at the door. They both looked up. "Come in," Elia said.
A pale-faced handmaiden appeared and curtsied. "Your Grace," she said. "There's a fleet coming into the harbour. They fly the royal banner."
Elia and Lewyn looked at each other.
They were late, late, late.