Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you keep me inspired.

The Victors

To Turn the Tide

When Rhaegar came to his mother's solar, there was something different there. He looked around, trying to find out what it was. A new settee? No. Another vase of flowers added to the sea of aromas around here? It was not that, either. His mother was attended, as usual, by two ladies one of whom sew and the other read a book. Rhaella was reading, too, dressed in the simple style she preferred in the privacy of her own chambers.

She looked up, saw his expression, and looked at her attendants. "Thank you," she said. "That's it. I won't need your help until it's time to get dressed for supper."

The two women curtsied and left. They were ladies of age, well-respected and with many virtues. Rhaella imposed a strict moral code on her household and no one could say a bad word about her circle.

Rhaegar wished he could say the same thing about Lyanna's circle… and especially his own, after all the rumours that had been flying through King's Landing for the last two days.

He sat down without waiting for his mother to invite him.

She poured him a goblet of wine. He nodded and drank.

She waited. Of course, she had heard about the blazing row he had had with his queen. Rhaella shook her head at the girl's stupidity. Really, did she think that Rhaegar was the one who had ordered Arthur to return Dawn or what? And if not, why was she blaming him and expecting of him to remedy the situation?

Still, Rhaegar said nothing.

Rhaella started inspecting one of her painted nails.

"No," Rhaegar suddenly flared up. "No, can you tell me why did he do it! He knew that this sword was a symbol. How come that he'd just give it up? Why give it up?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I did. He kept silent."

"I also asked him. He didn't keep silent. He said that he felt tainted and he couldn't keep tainting Dawn with it, so he returned her. He was no longer worthy of her – that was he said."

"Did he? And since when have you become such a trusted confidant of his?"

Rhaella shrugged. "From time to time, we talk."

Rhaegar looked at her incredulously. He and Arthur had practically stopped talking but his one-time friend had started talking to his mother? What was the next thing he would hear, that Arthur had started breaking his fast with Mace Tyrell?

"What else did he tell you?" he asked. "That he was ashamed drawing Dawn into my service, right?"

She stayed as composed as ever. "No, he didn't say any such thing."

"He didn't need to say it," Rhaegar murmured and drank from his goblet. "It isn't only because of the child, is it?"

Rhaella smoothed the folds of her dress. "He was deeply disturbed by that episode, Rhaegar," she said. "I was there. He isn't exaggerating. For a moment, I thought he had killed the boy. I think he thought that, too."

"But he didn't."

"If he thought he had, even for a moment…"

Rhaella did not finish. Rhaegar hadn't been there. No one who hadn't witnessed it could understand. Rhaella had watched Ser Arthur drawing Dawn in tens of tournaments, hundreds of time in her presence. She had seen him staining her with the blood of countless people, yet seeing the morning sword descend in a hissing arc against a child's head – that had been the first time she had truly realized how lethal the Kingsguard was.

"And if he didn't think so, his brother would be quick to remind him, I have no doubt."

Rhaella stared at her hands, at the falling dusk behind, at anything but her son. His animosity towards the Dornish lord troubled her because he had never expressed such a sentiment towards another man. And he wasn't even in the right about this.

"As far as I know, his brother doesn't talk to him at all," she said. "That's what my ladies claim."

He laughed harshly. "So he doesn't, does he? I suppose he said all he had to say in the Tower of Joy. Mother, if only you had heard him then…"

Rhaella sighed and listened to the children's cries that came through the closed windows. Rhaegar didn't get it. Once again, she felt guilty for being unable to give him a sibling close to his own age. Even with the way Aerys had turned out to be, their childhood and early youth had not been bad ones.

"You're going against human nature, Rhaegar," she said kindly. "Lord Dayne is his brother and Arthur loves him."

"Even after all he had put him through? Even after that?" Rhaegar was genuinely stunned. With sad resignation, Rhaella realized that she could never reveal to him her own feelings about Aerys. He had placed her through so much yet she had loved him. She had loved him long after it had become stupid of her to do so.

"Even after that," she said, her voice quiet. "Sometimes good sense has nothing to do with it. I wish you could know it."

Again, silence descended upon them. Rhaegar had felt Arthur closer than his own brother – Rhaella knew that. And since she had started talking to the Dornishman about small and not so small things, she knew that Arthur had never felt the same way, simply because he had always had a brother he had been satisfied with.

"It isn't just because of the child," Rhaegar finally said. "Arthur does not truly wish to serve me anymore. He does not wish to serve Lyanna, either."

"He is of Dorne," Rhaella said simply.

It was the truth, yet not all of it. She would never tell Rhaegar the other part, the one she had known since the very day of his first wedding. Arthur Dayne was had been on duty that night, yet a swift input from the bride had placed him as far from the newlyweds as possible, guarding little Viserys. Rhaella had seen him later, after his watch had ended. He had huddled up into a corner, not taking his eyes off Elia. Elia who hadn't wanted to have him near. Elia who had wished for him to be the groom and not the one guarding her new husband and herself… Can they be happy, Rhaella had asked herself with sinking heart. Can they ever be truly happy if so early into the marriage the bride is already enamoured in someone else, and he the groom's closest friend?

"Listen, Rhaegar," she said. "Just forget about it. The Kingsguard took the man, not the sword."

He shook his head. "He did it on purpose," he said. "He did it knowing that I wouldn't forget. And I truly won't."

Now, Rhaella got scared. King against Kingsguard. How could have they let the things escalate so far? "Very well," she said coolly. "Make a fool out of yourself. For me, I find it unbecoming a king to meddle into things that are far beneath him but I do not sit the Iron Throne, you do."

Rhaegar stared at her inquisitively. Was it possible that she really didn't get it? It was shameful. Everyone talked about how Arthur Dayne was no longer the Sword of the Morning because he thought his ancestral sword was too good to defend the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It was a slight, even if Arthur hadn't meant it as such. Rhaegar suspected that he had meant it.

"I cannot let him go away with it," he said. "Him or that brother of his. I've had enough of Dornish insolence. They should all be taught their place… and their prince most of all."

Rhaella closed her eyes and wondered whether they would have a war knocking at their door once again, this time because of such a small thing as a blade.

"I'll talk to Mikkel," she said. "I'll try to have this sorted out."

It was too late, though; by the look in Rhaegar's face, he did not want things to be sorted out.

Arthur Dayne had finally managed to wake the dragon, it seemed.


Each sixth days of the week, the King admitted applicants. People waited in long lines for hours to enter the throne room because it was well known that the Iron Throne was trying to do justice to everyone.

The Kingsguard attended those receptions, of course, with no small degree of dismay. They did not like what they saw. Under the glory of King's Landing, there was a twisted, unfeeling heart pulsating slowly and maleficently. Everyone sought some profit and usually found it in the death or ruin of others – stealing their goats, breaking into their homes, raping their daughters. It was a litany of losses, a list of atrocities and King and Kingsguard alike were pleased when it ended.

Old men decried their sons forcing them out of the house; widows pleaded to have their children's inheritance restored to them after their goodbrothers had appropriated it.

"What is your need?" Rhaegar asked the woman who was currently kneeling before him.

She looked up – and Arthur Dayne froze where he was.

"Justice," she said. She was in advanced age but she was a cultured woman, one who had lacked for nothing in her life. At our expense, Arthur thought and bile rose to his throat. He had hoped he'd never have to set eyes on her again.

"Who wronged you?" Rhaegar asked.

He knows. The Seven help us, he knows.

Arthur's blood went first cold, then heated, as if he had found himself in the desert after midnight and then immediately after noon. For how long had Rhaegar known? Had he made it a purpose to learn as much about them as he could, so he could crush them, or had it happened earlier – when Arthur had first started letting his reluctance to be a part of Rhaegar's close circle show?

"I was wronged, Your Grace, by Lord Arel Dayne of Dorne who secretly and viciously murdered my husband who only served his father faithfully for nary twenty years. And that deed wasn't vile enough for him: he drove me away, taking off all our fortune my husband had earned with hard work."

The woman clearly has a touchingly guileless idea of someone else's property, Arthur though and set his face in a hard mask. He would not let Ser Oswell see the horror shaking him; he would not give Rhaegar the satisfaction of seeing him scared for the very first time since they had set eyes on one another.


"So?" Rhaegar asked.

Arthur gave him a dispassionate look. "So what?"

"How do you take it all?"

Arthur's expression didn't change. "How do I take seeing my brother being taken into custody by the gold cloaks, you mean? It was… interesting. Congratulations, by the way. That was a good dinner entertainment. I am sure people will talk about it for weeks. You're kindly invited to dine in the great hall – and you get to see the royal dungeons, as well."

Rhaegar stared at him, taken by surprise. Arthur Dayne was a witty one but caustic humour had never been one of his strong traits, especially under such distressing circumstances. That's more like something Oberyn Martell would have said, Rhaegar thought. Just before he strikes.

It was late in the evening. Ser Jaime had just come to relieve his sworn brother in his watch at Rhaegar's door, so Rhaegar had invited Arthur to enter his solar. There were no other people around. In this hour most of the occupants of the Red Keep were either in their bed or busy with some dishonourable business outside. The night was dark and calm. Not a single star shone in the sky. Have they all fallen, Rhaegar wondered. Have they all turned their bright faces away in shame at the downfall of Arel Dayne, the fallen star?

"It is my duty to see justice served," he said.

Arthur looked at him, his eyes serious and unblinking. "Ah," he said. "Justice. Lovely words, Your Grace. You've got it right: in about a hundred years of personally dealing with stealths of pigs and quarrels between neighbours, people might forget about the bigger… issues in the beginning of your reign and the end of your father's."

Rhaegar blushed. With sudden clarity, he realized that his zealous effort to keep King's Landing in peace and order were partly due to his efforts to make amends for his mistakes in the eyes of the Seven, to prove that he was a worthy king. His vanity was a part of it. His officials could do this duty just as efficiently as him, yet he insisted to do it personally because he needed to redeem himself.

"We aren't talking about me," he said coldly. "We are talking about a man your brother killed in cold blood, as was proven by witnesses. Such a thing cannot be left unpunished. Not it the Seven Kingdoms."

Arthur smiled bitterly. "And you know he killed him at all, let alone in cold blood?" he asked. "Did you bother to learn anything about this so called victim who might very well be still alive before you arranged this charming spectacle? Because if you had, you might have had a very different idea of what constitutes justice!"

He had his voice under control but it was the closest thing to an outburst he had allowed himself in all the years of their acquaintance. That was yet another evidence that there was something dodgy in the disappearance of Ser Wallas Beeglow, former castellan of Starfall. Rhaegar felt slightly sick. All those years Westeros had held Arthur as a paragon for knightly virtues – had the darkness been there all along? Rhaegar felt like a fool. Maybe I really don't know this much about people, he thought.

"Tell me," he invited. "Is it a lie that Ser Wallas had served at Starfall faithfully for many years?"

"No, it isn't!"

"So?"

"So… the woman failed to mention the last few years of those." Arthur's face flushed with the anger and humiliation this memory never failed to bring back, even almost twenty years later. "After my lord father suffered this fall that left him almost incapacitated with constant headaches."

He started pacing the room before stopping at the far end of it to turn to Rhaegar. "This scum used Arel's minority to do whatever he liked. Only in three years, he almost ruined what my ancestors had built up for hundreds of years. He was stealing our inheritance, dishonouring our lady mother, harassing our smallfolk, making us feel like guests in Starfall, making us beg for everything… It wasn't fair. Those were our things! I became furious with rage each time Arel went to ask him for something. Once, when I returned home, there were rats in the upper floors. Rats! I hated going back there, it was this bad. Everything went to his pocket. There was nothing left for maintenance of the castle or lands. Some of Ashara's gowns…" He cut himself off.

"So your brother decided to celebrate his coming into age by killing Ser Wallas?" Rhaegar elaborated.

Arthur shook his head. He didn't look guilty. "No," he said, calmly. "He had brought three different maesters from all around Dorne who were to confirm that our father was unable to fulfill his duties so Arel could take in. That was all."

Rhaegar arched a silver eyebrow. "And restore Starfall with the entire wisdom of his sixteen namedays?" he inquired skeptically.

Arthur huffed. "He tried and he did. Wallas' only purpose was to reduce us to beggary – and my mother wouldn't do anything to stop him. He had to be stopped. Arel meant to send him away as soon as the maesters confirmed Father was incapacitated and the princess had satisfied his plea for assuming all of Father's privileges and responsibilities."

"But it never came to that."

Arthur gave him a cautious look. "No," he said. "In the night before Arel's sixteenth nameday, the man took off. Arel wasn't exactly discreet about his intentions and I'm afraid I couldn't help but gloat a little. I have no doubt he decided that disappearing into the night was a better option than being sent away disgracefully."

As to the woman, Arthur added silently, you of all people should recognize that something a man just wishes to leave his wife. He didn't dare voice it, though.

"Then," Rhaegar asked, "how would you explain the fact that when her husband didn't return to their chambers that night, she took two of their servants and went out looking for him and saw your brother and his friend Errol Gargalen filling a hole with earth?"

Arthur's face went terribly white. His hand reached for his shoulder to draw a greatsword that was no longer there before he realized what he was doing and let it hang at his side.

A moment passed, then another one and another one yet.

Finally, he looked at Rhaegar. The violet flames of his eyes could burn the solar to the ground.

"My king, no murder ever took place that night. I was there. I swear it. Leave this old story alone. If you go where to the place those people pointed, you won't find a body there. If I swear in my honour that all that took place there was a man possessed of fear of justice acting rashly, won't you give it up? We have been through so much, you have no idea… Don't bring the past back."

So, it was true. Somehow, Rhaegar had not wanted to believe it. Not about Arthur. His brother was cold-blooded enough to try such a thing and this Errol Gargalen whom Rhaegar didn't know was Mikkel's son. Rhaegar could easily picture the lord of Salt Shore planning a murder coldly and meticulously enough to get away with it. But Arthur?

"Let's make it clear. You know they killed the man, even if he was a thief who abused his position, and you want me to pretend that it was not a murder?"

His voice rose so high that Ser Jaime actually poked his head in to make sure that everything was under control. Rhaegar waved him off.

Arthur had many things to tell the king. His hand itched for the hilt of his new sword, burning to draw it out. How dared Rhaegar sit here and ride the high horse when he had murdered thousands of people with his disgraceful passion for the she-bitch? Yet he knew that now he had to keep a still tongue in his head even if it killed him. In this moment, he felt it might. "You don't understand, it wasn't like that."

"Oh? And how was it? Explain it to me."

Arthur shook his head. "You won't believe me, no matter I tell you. But I'll say it again: there was no murder. None!"

Rhaegar rose and came near enough for Arthur to touch. His eyes were full of anger and disappointment. "You are right," he said. "I don't believe you. Because there was more to it than two boys who dug a grave with shovels. There was the third one, the one who heaped earth with his bare hands."

He looked his Kingsguard straight into the eye. "So, Ser Arthur, from now on I'd really advise caution in your gestures and statements. Because if what those witnesses say is true, then you are an accomplice. An accomplice to murder."