8th Month of 287 A.C. Lys
King Rhaegar I Targaryen
Things were slowly getting better between himself and Lyanna, they were learning to talk to one another, something he had never learned how to do with Elia, and something he regretted not learning sooner. They were no longer acting like children in grown up bodies, but instead were acting like adults. It helped, he supposed that Jon and Rhaenys were there as well, they provided a link for the two of them, concerns for them that were not planning a war. Rhaegar still worried over where his mother and brother were, they had disappeared, Ser Willam Darry was dead, but the party he had sent out to find his family had come back empty handed, some had not even come back, and that worried him. He knew the war was coming, and that resources were tight, but dammit all he wanted to find his mother and brother.
As he looks at the men gathered in the room before him, he knows that some of them would rather see Viserys on the throne than him or Jaehaerys, but they are with him now because they have no choice. And so he takes a breath and says. "We all know why we are here, let us begin then. Jon how goes the preparation?"
Jon Connington, one of Rhaegar's oldest friends, and the Lord of Griffin's Roost nods his thanks. "Thank you Your Grace, the preparations are going well. The lords within the realm are preparing for the return of their rightful king, and the usurper sits unsteadily on his throne. With regards to the sellsword companies, The Golden Company is beginning to plan out a course from Volantis, and they intend to arrive in the Reach itself."
Rhaegar nods. "And with regards to ascertaining payment for them? How does that go?"
Connington looks slightly nervous then, but his words go a long way toward reassuring Rhaegar. "It goes well, the Lyseni bankers that I spoke to seemed very willing to talk and negotiate loans and such. And with the treasury in King's Landing still relatively full, we should have enough to repay the loans."
"Your Grace, if I may?" Ser Arthur asks.
"Go on Ser." Rhaegar says nodding encouragingly.
"The Golden Company were founded by a man dedicated to the Blackfyre cause, and as such continued to fight for the Blackfyres for many years. Even now thirty years after the last one died, they continue to hold true to the saying of their founder. How do we know they can be trusted?" Ser Arthur asks.
"An interesting question, and one I have pondered myself." Rhaegar responds. "You see, I think that even with the Blackfyres dead, the golden company has not forgotten what it is. A sellsword company set up by exiles. And what do exiles traditionally want? Why they want to return home of course. That is why I think we can trust them to an extent. So long as they think we can take them home, they will fight for us."
"And if it looks like we cannot get them home? They are sellswords after all Your Grace, how do we know that they will not abandon us at the first instance that they get." Ser Arthur asks.
Rhaegar looks at the man, his best friend, his only true friend and sighs. "The company will not leave us Arthur. They cannot, their word of honour means they cannot leave, and as such if they do, well then they shall lose face."
His friend seems to consider this and then merely nods. Jon Connington speaks then. "There has been word from the Reach, it seems that Mathis Rowan and his allies are preparing for an assault on Tarly lands. They merely need your confirmation for the plan to begin."
Rhaegar considers this. "They are being very bold by going for Tarly. The man knows how to fight and to command. If anything this is quite risky. How certain are they of victory?"
Connington takes a moment to consider before responding. "They seem quite certain my king. It seems they are aware of growing dissatisfaction with Tyrell rule over the Reach and wish to change that. Florent in particular is desperate for a change."
Rhaegar snorts then. "Of course he is, the man more than likely wants Highgarden and the Lord Paramountship as a reward. Of course this probably means he is likely to do whatever we ask of him. Very well, tell them I approve of this plan." He pauses a moment and then asks. "And what of the Baratheons? How are they holding together?"
"They are falling apart my king. The usurper sits on his throne, angry with his wife and his hand, and brother. Stannis Baratheon sits on Dragonstone and broods on all the insults dealt to him. And the youngest one, well it seems he is becoming a Tyrell puppet." Jon says.
"How likely would Stannis be likely to change sides if the right things were offered to him?" Rhaegar asks intrigued.
"I do not think the man would turn Your Grace. He seems to be one who is not willing to bend for anything but the law. And he sees his brother as the king." Jon responds.
Rhaegar laughs then. "Once I would have agreed with you Jon, but every man has a price, no matter how high. It is just a case of finding out what it is."
"Do you wish for an offer to be made then Your Grace?" Jon asks.
"No," Rhaegar responds shaking his head. "Let us wait and see what Baratheon does, whether he remains confident in his brother or not. I will not reveal myself just yet, let us see Rowan and his allies make their move, and then we shall hit the usurper where it hurts him."
Jon nods. "Very well sire, I shall send word to Lord Mathis."
Rhaegar nods and is about to stand when there is a knock on the door. "Come in." he says.
He finds Lyanna standing before him looking distressed. "What is it my love?" he asks. His mind goes to the children then.
Lyanna looks at him and her voice is barely audible when she speaks. "There has been word of your mother and brother."
10th Month of 287 A.C. The Mander
Lord Mathis Rowan
He had summoned his men and then marching to Old Oak had met with the forces under command of Lady Oakheart, they had feinted toward Highgarden to scare Mace Tyrell, and the man had blathered and dithered, and shut himself up in Highgarden, just as Mathis thought he would. From there they had marched southward, the plan was to meet with the Florents and their allies south of the Mander and begin their offensive from there. However, Randyll Tarly had decided to break the pattern and had summoned his men and was now waiting for them, a battle was to be waged, and Mathis was eagerly looking forward to it.
For as long as he could remember, Tarly had been a thorn in his side, and that of his family, always there to take credit for things that were not of his doing. Tarly, the man who had slain his brother in a fit of sport. Tarly, a man whom Mathis had come to despise beyond all others. He would have that man killed, and he would be the man to do it, he was certain of that. Tarly had come, just as they had known he would and by the gods would he have his revenge, for all the insults dealt to him, Ashford, Storm's End all of them, he would have his revenge.
He looks around, noting the positions of battle, knowing that things are in place. He takes a deep breath, and then puts his lips to the horn, the war horn that had come from his ancestors long ago. He takes a deep shuddering breath, and then when it is done, he puts the horn against his side, and draws his lance, preparing for battle. His heart is hammering within his chest, he digs his spurs into his horse and leads the charge. Mathis can see the Tarly huntsman floating in the sky, he feels anger grow, and he allows it to carry him.
The water splashes against his horse and he feels it hit his legs, his armoured legs, he has lived a whole life in armour, fighting, always fighting. Fighting to make sure that his house did not lose their place amongst the top flight of the reach. He knows Osgrey would love nothing more than for him to fall, but he does not think that that is something that will happen. Osgrey does not have enough power to make such a thing work, and as such he knows that the man might well fall by the end of this. Gods above he hopes so, he really does, he does not know if he can stomach another time spent with Osgrey. His lance hits something, and he is brought back to reality.
The lance crashes into one man and then another, sending him through the throngs of pain, Mathis welcomes it, welcomes the harsh sense of reality that it brings. He has never liked the feeling of drifting that so often comes to him when he is not in the saddle, something inside of him resists it, makes him want to cry out and anger and pain. He was not born to sit still, he was made to ride and fight. He is a born soldier, something that has only become more pronounced as he has gotten older. His lance continues on its path, before it breaks and he draws his sword, the true fighting about to begin.
Fighting with a sword is much more freeing, there is a sense of becoming one with nature itself. Mathis has never been able to explain it to himself, let alone put it into words, the feeling he gets when he fights with a sword. It just is, it is another part of him, and it is a part he feels comfortable with. His whole life has been ifs and buts, but not on the battlefield, on the battlefield he reigns supreme and he knows it. Others know it as well, Tarly certainly knows it, and that is why he has always tried to outshine Mathis, for Tarly is just like Mathis, a second son, someone who grew up in the shadow of a more formidable brother. Always trying to prove himself.
In a way, Mathis admits, perhaps that should have led to a common kinship between them, but instead it merely sowed the seeds of a rivalry between them, the rivalry that started when they were children, and has slowly progressed beyond that. It is now something akin to a burning hatred, they do not war as their fathers did, but it is now something that must be dealt with for the good of the kingdom. Mathis knows this, and that is why he is fighting here in the midst of the Mander, pain is weighing heavily on him, and he cannot see Tarly anywhere, that is beginning to anger him, where is the coward?
Mathis bellows challenges for the foes to come and face him, and he cuts them down. He has never been a slouch with a sword, growing up in his family that was not an option, the only option was fighting and succeeding to win. He grew up with many cuts and bruises, but they made him the man he is today. Not perfect, but not flawed either, he is somewhere in between he would think. Obviously Bethany would say something different, but then she naturally would. He loves his wife, always has done, but he cannot help but resent the fact that she was supposed to marry the blackfish before him. There is still no sign of Tarly, and Mathis is growing impatient, his men are growing tired, but he knows unless he can finish off Tarly they are not done here. He needs to find Tarly and kill him otherwise they are doomed. As if on cue, a horn blows, and there is Randyll Tarly charging toward him, Mathis bellows a challenge and goes to meet him.
