9
Rhaegar 3
Elia's reply was scrolling along a scrap of parchment reluctant to unroll. It seemed that she, too, was reluctant to leave the sphere of happiness into which she had disappeared when her ship melted into the blaze of midday sea. She failed to engage wholeheartedly with the subtleties and lures of the new status Rhaegar was trying to forge for her. Yet, she did not object. Elia wrote that she was happiest away from the King's court, although she missed her husband's fair face and witty conversation. She wished Rhaegar came for a long visit, so that baby Aegon could know his father from an early age. But she most definitely wanted to raise him away from the capital – with all the best of education that Castle Yronwood could afford. Another reason for them to stay – which Elia did not state explicitly, but it was plain enough – was that the old Lord Yronwood waxed infirm, and Ivorie, as the only unmarried daughter (she had no brothers living) was now in charge of ruling the castle and its lands. And as long as Ivorie stayed there, Elia would stay there with her – Rhaegar could read it dead certain, like a white blaze between the lines.
And, as it sometimes happened before, the power of Elia's determination overwhelmed and stunned his heart. She set an example that it was impossible not to follow. He is going to stay with Lyanna wherever she is, from now on – or go wherever she goes.
But will they stay, or will they go?
The Red Keep was all in disarray, because this morning King Aerys discovered that his wife with his little son and granddaughter had left for Dragonstone – without as much as saying goodbye to him in person. Rhaegar still could not quite come back to his senses, after the scene of his father's most abject rage and despair. Never before did his father attack him like an enemy.
"So now you don't trust me with the children?! Who do you think I am? A lunatic? A murderer?!"
All that Rhaegar could do was to try and wait it out. He stood there silent like an executioner, and the guards stood silent, baffled. Finally he said:
"Mother decided to go. We need to talk, when you can."
His father howled indistinct curses and rushed away, from the children's quarter, where they met, to his own chambers. There he locked himself in and remained inside, refusing to let anyone in, even to bring him food or water.
In a small adjacent hall, the knights of the White Guard gathered in council as to how they should act: should they respect the king's command and stay outside, or force the door to prevent the king from harming himself? Rhaegar, who was present because of the meeting's extraordinary agenda, insisted on summoning Archmaester Pycelle.
The maester scratched his beard in grave perplexity. He had been treating the king, at his own request, for insomnia and overexcitement of the brain, alternating it with periods of opposite remedies for low spirits and slothfulness, when that was needed. But to impose help or treatment against the royal patient's will was quite another matter. It would most likely cost them their lives.
"Archmaester, what of the prospects?" – Rhaegar asked. "Is my father likely to improve? If so, we should be patient and wait. But if not – then his illness – because we all have to agree now that this is illness rather than his natural temper – his illness threatens the entire realm, not our lives alone."
Pycelle looked down and mumbled:
"Such decisions, your Grace, are not in the Maester's competence." Looking up at Rhaegar, he added:
"My considered opinion is that an urgent council of the seven great Houses needs to be called."
So now Rhaegar had to continue dealing with the mail. Putting away Elia's note, after he briefly pressed it to his lips, he took a slip of parchment and inscribed it "To Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North." It was just as well to start with the toughest task.
After rolling around in his mind and rejecting several versions of the key sentence, he finally wrote: "With the approval of the Faith, and at your daughter's own will and consent, she henceforth becomes my wife and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Our marriage with Elia, Royal Dame Targaryen, the Princess Mother, has been terminated at her own will and consent by the High Septon." Then came an open invitation to Princess Lyanna's family to come to the capital and properly celebrate their newly forged kinship. Then, cursing his forgetfulness aloud, he remembered that he should also call Lord Rickard to the urgent council. He added: "Yet the times are darkening in the capital and the Seven Kingdoms, and before we can attend to celebrations, we must call your Lordship with all the heads of the seven great Houses to an emergency council at the Red Keep. Please make haste, Lord Stark, the fate of the realm depends on our sound judgment and readiness to act."
The rest of the letters, even to Lord Tywin Lannister, were relatively easier to write. Yes, it did sound like a conspiracy. But he could not allow this conspiracy – which was sure to emerge against King Aerys very soon, unless it did already – to be led by someone else. Rhaegar took the sealed little scrolls himself to the Archmaester, as it would be unthinkable to trust even the most faithful attendant with such a business. They dispatched the ravens together from the rookery tower into the low tattered clouds blown by angry sea wind.
He returned to his solar and dosed off on the purple-and-orange satin couch, more from moral than physical exhaustion.
Tender hands caressing his cheeks and hair brought him back from sleep. Lyanna was sitting next to his bed, bending over him in a cloud of unfamiliar perfume. It was like being home again, as if his strong, caring mother and his childhood happiness were restored to him. Tears scalded his eyes from the inside, as he felt the clock wheels of his life move into the next position, and this was irreversible and sad, even if the next hour on that clock was to be brilliant with happiness. He smiled to her, and she noticed his tears and kissed them off.
"Have you slept well, love?"
"Oh yes, it's the best sleep that ends with such an awakening!" – he smiled. But at the same instant he realized something was wrong: "How did you get in here? Did the guards let you through incognito, without asking questions?"
She laughed heartily:
"Oh no, no more incognito! My cover is blown. I don't know how, but my brother has found me. Right where I was at Wymund's inn. This morning. Ned, will you tell me at last what was the dark art you used? How did you discover my whereabouts?"
At her invocation of her brother, Rhaegar startled – gods be good! Lyanna's brother was sitting by the window of his solar, just behind his shoulder – and he was completely unaware of his presence until this moment. His anger flared in an instant: how dared that damned oaf of a Stark enter uninvited, while he was sleeping? But Stark was quick to react:
"Your Grace, I fully realize how unwelcome my intrusion is. And I beg your pardon with all my heart. If not for my sister's insistence, I would surely refrain from coming here without your invitation. But Lyanna dragged me to the Keep barely letting me to change from the road." – He apologetically pointed at his dusty boots. "Please forgive me for this awkwardness, I hope our reason for causing it will satisfy."
As he spoke, Eddard was looking at him with some baffling, touching softness, something that looked like sympathy or even compassion. Such a response to Rhaegar's unspoken anger felt to him uncomfortable, unsettling, as if his fire was being doused with plentiful water. But at this junction, when he was all alone in the world except for Lyanna, who was also looking at him with radiant tenderness, he felt strangely soothed, like a child who is tightly embraced till his tantrum is over. Yet it was still beyond him to smile or make a fitting response.
Lyanna spoke instead:
"My dear, I need to tell you all that has passed since we parted yesterday. And I perceive that you have news to tell me too."
"Let's start with yours," he muttered.
"You see, we couldn't stay at the inn. Ned introduced himself at Wymund Rivers's by his own name – and who would see any harm in that? But the old man became alarmed and whisked him away, through the door behind the counter, into some pantry – right, Ned? – and there he whispered to him through smoked sausages and garlands of onions that it's very dangerous for any members of the great Houses to be seen around the capital. Why? Because the King fears a conspiracy and has ordered the gold cloaks and countless spies to closely follow and report any man of note who appears in King's Landing."
Rhaegar could not contain a groan of unsurprised surprise.
"Ser Eddard, so have you been seen by any of these, you suppose?"
"Your Grace, as my sister said, we didn't enter incognito – nor would we be admitted. The gates of the Red Keep are now guarded by gold cloaks. We presented ourselves, and they sent for Lord Commander Hightower, our uncle, for they would not admit us on their own authority. It was he who conducted us here, but preferred not to wake you."
"Oh, yes, of course, I understand."
Ser Gerold Hightower was the only person in the Red Keep so far to know what Lyanna was to the prince. Rhaegar had to make security arrangements for her in case something happened to him, so the Lord Commander of the White Guard, who was also her uncle, was exactly the suitable person to confide in. He mused for a few moments before continuing:
"The gates are guarded by gold cloaks because there is a crisis… related to my father, and the royal guards are all inside the Keep. Lyanna is quite right, you should have come here, and you should also stay here, in my quarters, until things clear up. Here you both will be safest, and what is more, I may need your help."
Now it was Rhaegar's turn to fill them in on the situation. He felt more than slightly uneasy to be sharing the intimate and dark secrets of his household, his father's current condition, his mother's flight from the capital and the reasons for it, and his decision to call an urgent council of the seven high lords. Lyanna was his wife, he no longer kept secrets from her, but her brother was still a stranger. Yet there was no more room to conceal any of this – and soon the King's condition would have to be discussed in a council that the King didn't sanction, because the state of the realm demanded it.
Eddard turned out to be very sensitive to this uneasiness.
"Your Grace, it must be difficult for you to tell these sad news about your own family to someone you barely know, like myself. But I implore you to trust me that I will not make any use of this knowledge to harm your family or the realm."
"Ser Eddard, I thank you with all my heart. I do trust you enough to also tell you, the first person outside the Red Keep, that we are no longer strangers but kinsmen: your sister has become my wife."
The look on the young Stark's face was utterly confused and bewildered. He turned to Lyanna, and she nodded emphatically – yes, you did hear it right. Rhaegar continued, not letting him ask any questions:
"My former wife, Lady Elia, has freely agreed to relinquish our marriage, while our children with her remain heirs to the throne. She also retains all the privileges of a member of the royal House. The High Septon has sanctioned this decision of ours, and a new marriage with Lady Lyanna. The only obstacle – or rather, temporary awkwardness – is that our marriage has not been announced nor properly celebrated. In fact, that's not even quite true: I have written of it today to your lord father."
Eddard was no longer looking at him but shaking his head with his eyes shut in denial:
"No, no, no, no. This is not how you do these things! I can't believe what I just heard. Father will never accept this! Believe me, this can be cause for war…"
He looked up at Lyanna with painful reproach, like he was stabbed in his heart:
"Lya, how could you do this to us?.. The Seven forgive us, Masha was right, you did run away to a man…"
"Masha? Who is Masha?"
"Oh, Lya, as if that's what matters now! Someone." He turned to Rhaegar. "Your Grace, when did you say you sent the letter?"
"Just before I came back here and fell asleep on the couch."
"Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done about it now," Eddard said gloomily. "How very unfortunate we didn't come here just a few hours earlier."
"Why, what would it change?" Rhaegar wondered.
"Well, I'm not so sure myself. But perhaps I could deliver this news. Perhaps I could soften the impact… mediate…"
Lyanna looked at him intently:
"So would you intercede with Father for me?"
"Yes, sister, as I see you are ready to be interceded for. I understand that this marriage is just what you want." – he said with mock sternness, raising his brows.
She clapped her hands and jumped with the excess of happiness, and flew to him to embrace his neck and kiss him indiscriminately.
He embraced her too, then narrowed his eyes at her: "You do act like a girl in love!" – at which she slapped him on the ear.
"We didn't close the subject of Masha!" – she was in a position to demand now. This time he blushed profusely.
"She is… a worthy woman who is familiar with some of the secret knowledge of the Riverlands and the North. She gave me a tool that enabled me to find you."
"So I was right, you did use some dark arts!"
"I don't know if 'dark arts' is the right name for it. She said you and I have a way of finding each other because we are kin and come from the First Men. This is something she gave me." – He produced some small, delicate object out of his inner pocket, which turned out to be a baby-size copper spoon. Both Rhaegar and Lyanna watched and listened breathlessly for more.
"Masha told me that when I came to a fork in the road, I should hold this spoon in both hands, like this" – he closed his left palm around the spoon and cupped his right hand on top of the fist – "and then slowly turn around. When I'm facing down the road leading to the relation I'm looking for, the spoon will grow warmer."
"What if you are off the road?" – Lyanna asked, practical-minded.
"Well, she didn't tell me. I guess you have to rely on your nose then. I never had to go off the road to get from the Crossroads Inn to Wymund's Inn."
Lyanna digested this for a moment and then burst out in a fit of laughter, waving her hand at him and covering her face.
"Masha! The Crossroads Inn! Oh my, oh my, isn't that neat!"
Rhaegar felt sorry for her brother, who was evidently overwhelmed with embarrassment, especially as his secret was revealed and mocked in front of a third person.
"Ser Eddard, there is no shame in keeping company with anyone you meet on the road. I, for my part, have the highest regard for Masha Heddle, her inn is a truly hospitable place."
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace. I will need to go back there, to return the spoon – it's one of Masha's most prized possessions."
"You expect it would be!" – Rhaegar exclaimed.
"Yes, she inherited it from her mother, and she from her mother – she comes from the First Men herself, you know. That's how she received most of her secret lore."
Lyanna, who managed to stop laughing before, pressed her fist to her mouth and snorted again. Eddard stared at her defiantly, as if asking "What now?"
"Looks like she used some of it on you, I would bet!"
"And what if she did?" – his voice sounded perfectly cool and self-possessed, but Rhaegar felt a depth it concealed, full of illicit joy and rapture. He could tell it by the fullness of beauty that the young man's face gave off in a flash.
Lyanna straightened up and pronounced, mimicking her brother's earlier solemnity:
"But please trust me, ser, I will not use this knowledge to harm your family or the realm!" – and they all laughed together.
She wanted to play fair though and brought up a vulnerable point of her own:
"You know, Ned, I also have something to tell you, something to do with things out of this world. In the first place, I didn't run away to King's Landing – I ran from the Eyrie, because of the visit I made to a woman named Penny Stokes."
And the brother and sister exchanged excited narratives of each one's frightening, puzzling and fateful encounter at the cottage on the mountain slope.
Almost a week had passed, and they spent time in semi-voluntary captivity, entertaining each other with stories and sometimes listening to Rhaegar play and sing. For walks, the Starks could only go out into the internal court with a bit of a garden, above which Gerold Hightower himself passed in the gallery now and then, in his shining white cloak, to see if no one suspicious was lurking around.
The king recovered somewhat in the meantime, was taking meals again, though still refused to leave his quarters, and agreed to admit Rhaegar into his presence. His talk became more extreme and less coherent than before – he spoke of the high lords plotting against him, and demanded that his son summon them all to his court to be interrogated and take a renewed oath to the crown. Rhaegar said he did send summons to them all, and was expecting replies any day now from all the lords who remained loyal – which, technically speaking, was even true. It felt terrible.
The knights of the White Guard reported that he received Wisdom Rossart, head of the Alchemists' Guild, in addition to the members of the Small Council whom he still considered loyal: his new Hand, Lord Owen Merryweather, the worthless flatterer; Lucerys Velaryon, the master of ships (what was he up to with ships, at this point?); Lord Varys the Spider.
Replies to Rhaegar's summons started coming in, no one refused to come. The response from Lord Rickard was the last to arrive – and descended on him like an icy avalanche, which Eddard's prior warning did little to soften. "A man once married cannot marry again, nor can a daughter marry without her father or appointed guardian handing her over to the bridegroom in a proper ceremony. House Stark will not recognize such a union as marriage. This is called taking a concubine, and it is a disgrace to the lady and her House. I shall arrive to King's Landing in no more than a fortnight and four days, gods willing, to discuss the matter with His Grace King Aerys."
He read this and swore: the goddamn fool has buried himself in his hole in the snow up there, and wants to know nothing. He refuses to know his daughter has a will of her own, that his chosen son-in-law is a base liar, that nothing can be discussed with the King any more. Actually, he is on his way – if he set out when he sent the raven. A fortnight and four days means he is riding light, with no carriage and with all possible speed. He will need to be saved from his doom when he gets here, he should not be allowed to come face-to-face with the King.
Of course he showed the letter to Eddard, and they discussed it together. They decided that Lyanna should not see it, at least not for now – one curse was probably enough for her to cope with.
The King was sitting in his solar looking out of the great bay window on the Blackwater Bay. Such a magnificent room it was, commanding the broadest view towards the sea. Rhaegar stood at the door, as his father didn't invite him to come in or sit down. Their eyes were on the Dornish ships entering the port. Afternoon sun lit the Dornish suns emblazoned on the sails with its glow.
"Are they bringing your wife with them?"
"No, they are not, as far as I know," – was all he could reply.
"Not-as-far-as-I-know!" – his father mocked in a croaking voice. "What do you know?"
"Dorne is coming to confirm its loyalty to the Crown and the King's peace. May I go, your Grace?"
"Eager to go, eh? You might, just as well. I have no need for you. Will send for you when I do."
Rhaegar bowed, taking his leave, but his father was already looking away. He followed his glance and noted two shabby vessels oaring their way to the mouth of the haven. He could not identify them, nor did he remember such ships enter the port lately. On the deck of each there was some large clumsy structure wrapped in what looked like sackcloth.
On his way back to his own quarters, Rhaegar was approached by Jaime Lannister, the youngest Kingsguard. Jaime signaled with his eyes that they should turn into a dark side passage, which ended with a spiral staircase. At the foot of the stairs the knight whispered to him:
"Your Grace, I have overheard something that I thought you must know. The King is ordering massive amounts of wildfire from Rossart the pyromancer. Some of it is to be lodged under the throne hall, and some he bid to be loaded on board ships. Ships that are not marked as the Crown's."
"I am exceeding grateful to you, Ser Jaime, and you will know the extent of my gratitude once we are through these most troubled times. You decided right to let me know, and you should also inform the Lord Commander."
So that was the answer to the riddle of the two nondescript ships – sometimes answers just come right away. Those haystacks on the decks must be catapults. The King is preparing a murderous welcome for the high lords – although one cannot tell whether this is his primary intention or only his backup plan, a last resort. And he wants to make certain that no one escapes on the ships, if they do manage to make it out of the Keep alive.
Most of the invitees were coming by sea: Lord Arryn and Robert Baratheon were sailing from Gulltown, the Tyrells – from Oldtown, and Lord Stark and his heir Brandon took a ship from White Harbor, as the Manderlys informed at their request with another raven. Only the lords Hoster Tully and Tywin Lannister were traveling by land – and they were already here, disguised as merchants and safely lodged with their parties in two different guesthouses in the city. It was better if the King remained ignorant of their arrival for as long as possible, so Rhaegar had them waylaid and intercepted by his squire with a couple of attendants before they entered the city, and they saw reason in the stealthy course of action they were proposed. The ships were another matter though – they could hardly be hidden.
In reality, if he tried to look to the bottom of it all – he didn't believe any of these disguises truly availed to fool his father. After all, his network of spies was superior. The Spider had means that one could barely guess at. Rhaegar just acted out of a sense that he must carry the game on: he should work at concealment and play an innocent and loyal though disgruntled son, so that his father could feel in control and well informed. What would decide the outcome of this tacit battle was something else, Rhaegar was convinced – something to do with fate, chance, and, he continued to believe, the gods' and friends' favor for the just cause.
But surely friends could be as capricious as gods. His best friend, for instance, Ser Arthur Dayne – he never managed to understand what made him so estranged in the last few months. Rhaegar tried to get him to drink together as they used to – but it was a no-go. Was it that Dayne took the side of his father and secretly considered him a traitor? Or was he wroth that Rhaegar became the winner at Harrenhal? Absurd as either conjecture was, they continued to plague him because there was no one to disprove them.
And the next morning the ship from White Harbor arrived. He proposed to Eddard and Lyanna to stay in the Keep and wait for their father and brother there, but they both said they couldn't cower and tremble inside till Lord Rickard came and found them out. Or in any case, they did not want to give him that impression. So they rode out together, accompanied by Rhaegar's squire and Arthur Dayne, who was sent by Lord Commander Hightower (who wished to come himself, but the King could not spare him). The morning was brilliant and fresh, seagulls cried from the shore, as they rode through the alley of late-blooming pears that led to the royal embankment.
A cannon saluted the ship, the horses shied, were restrained, and they watched the ship mooring.
The old Stark descended with a grim look on his face, closely followed by two of his guards, Brandon Stark following behind them. The party on the shore had dismounted. Lord Rickard greeted Rhaegar with stiff old-fashioned politeness. As for his children, he barely acknowledged their presence with a curt nod of his head. Brandon bowed to Rhaegar and glared at his siblings. The rest of their retinue, about a dozen men, followed their lord to the embankment. Rhaegar squeezed Lyanna's hand: she stood so gloomy and aggravated.
As they rode back to the Keep, he and the siblings kept behind the guests. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Eddard:
"It turns out less terrible than we thought - in the meantime. And I do sympathize."
"Yes, quite true. Thank you, my prince."
