Of White Trees and Blue Roses
I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us. Special mention to for the info I've taken from there to create this chapter.
~X~
Chapter Twenty Nine – Come Out and Die
Brandon looked up at the men on the battlements above as he trotted through the Old Gate into the city. The guards looked back at him, though they made no move to pause him to ask his purpose, or that of the almost two hundred knights riding behind him.
More fool them, Brandon thought, and then his eyes found the Red Keep again.
In which tower was his sister being kept? Or was she in the dungeons, chained in the dark so that she didn't have the strength to snarl and snap her teeth when the prince came to violate her?
Brandon gripped his reins tighter, barely resisting the urge to gallop ahead. He looked around at the people of King's Landing, seeing the way they cowered out of the way as the mounted force made its way past stalls and brothels, along the Street of Sisters, and ever closer to the Red Keep. There were mutters and looks of concern but no one questioned them to their faces.
Finally, they made their way up Aegon's Hill and to the gatehouse of the Red Keep itself. As the line filtered through into the courtyard beyond, Brandon waited for the gathering of horses and men behind him. The enclosed space soon became crowded with armed, mounted knights. Once the show of support was assembled, Brandon looked up at the soldiers on the battlements and the faces appearing in the windows. Was one of them the king? Rhaegar? His sister?
"Rhaegar Targaryen," Brandon began, yelling at the top of his voice. "You have taken my sister, shamed my family, and I demand justice."
Voices all around him started humming with unheard agreement or apprehension. Though he'd told himself to wait for a response before making his challenge, the words burst free.
"I, Brandon Stark, request a trial by combat against the prince who stole my sister. Rhaegar, come out and die!"
Inside Maegor's Holdfast, the castle within the castle, King Aerys II looked down at the distant courtyard. The young Stark had a powerful voice and it carried well. No doubt almost all of those within the Red Keep had heard him and his treason.
It was even better than Aerys had planned for.
"Come out and die!" the fool yelled again, unaware that the king had been preparing for this moment for a week. The king nodded and at once a shout rang out, closely followed by the rumble and clang of the portcullis falling, trapping the northmen like fish in a barrel.
Aerys watched as archers on the walls revealed themselves and let loose their arrows. It would have been better if he'd had his way and used wildfire, but his incompetent Hand had talked him out of it.
"Kill as few as possible. If you can take hostages then you can ransom them back to their families and make them swear loyalty to you. Punish them by making them fill your coffers and empty theirs."
In the beginning, the king had thought Owen Merryweather's vocal loyalty and agreeableness were the perfect traits for the new Hand, but he was weak. At present, he was more like to hear better advice from his reflection in the mirror.
A young, calm voice inside Aerys' head whispered that Tywin Lannister was still the best man for the job, and he was about argue with Rhaegar when he realised that it was a different young prince speaking up—a naive boy who knew nothing of the world, before he'd had his eyes opened during the horror of Duskendale.
It was amazing how often he confused his young self with his oldest son, but then they shared the same blood. Blood of the dragon. It was fire that burned away the dark dreams and kept them at bay, and the dragon inside him had made him strong, rebuilding the walls that had crumbled while he was held captive in that place.
Aerys thought of the animal sigils of the squabbling, grasping lords that constantly plagued him. All creatures cowered before a dragon, and maybe instead of a lion he should have another dragon as Hand, as his ally—the crown prince.
But no, Rhaegar had taken Joanna Stark and no one knew where. If Aerys had taken his Joanna, as he had often dreamed of doing, then he would have found a place far from prying eyes, just for the two of them, and he would not hurry back. No, his heir would be gone for some time.
Maybe it was for the best. As a dutiful father he would deal with this wolf from the north, baying for his son's blood. Tread lightly with treason and you were likely to find it was you who was trampled upon. The king had made a pretence of being persuaded by Merryweather, but he had ideas of his own.
"Make sure you take Brandon Stark alive, and the sons of any lords of note, and bring them before the iron throne."
The king made his way through the corridors, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Gerold Hightower, to his right, and his toy, young Jamie Lannister to his left.
Aerys looked at the simpering, pleased look on his Hand's face as their paths converged on the way to the throne room, but Aerys ignored him. Instead he concentrated on the dwindling moans and cries from the gatehouse courtyard, and his mood lifted considerably. The wolf had attacked but he was no match for a dragon.
The dragon, however, gave pause as he approached his old enemy, the throne made of old swords melted together to make a royal seat for the descendants of the first dragon king, Aegon—a seat for conquerors. Aerys swore that the seemingly solid blades often twisted and coiled like snakes, and if he took his eyes off them for a second they bit, infecting his body with metallic venom and drawing blood.
Ruling was never meant to be comfortable, he reminded himself, and then apprehensively took his place, just in time to see a number of guards marching or dragging a number of captives through the curious courtiers that were beginning to gather. Confused, they wanted answers as to why their handsome, agreeable, and much loved prince was being challenged. Many had heard the rumours about the Stark girl by now, but most refused to think ill of him.
Brandon Stark stumbled forward, his hands bound behind his back, preventing him from wiping away the trail of blood from a cut to his forehead that threatened to flow into his eyes at any second. He'd led his friends and his men into a trap that—had he had more of his wits about him at the time—he should have seen from a mile away.
Good men had died today, and the consequences of his rash act weighed heavy on his spirit, as a broken wolf made his way to the iron throne at the insistence of his captors. As swayed and hobbled, he searched amongst the faces left and right for any sight of his sister or the coward who had allowed archers to answer the challenge meant for him. The prince had no honour. How could he ever consider calling this man his king?
Pushed forward, Brandon struggled to keep his footing, ending up on his knees, and he found himself flanked by his squire, Ethan Glover, and his close friends, Elbert Arryn, Kyle Royce, and Jeffory Mallister.
The wizened old king stared at him with strangely wide eyes as their names were read out to the court, and Brandon could swear he saw the beginnings of a smile poorly disguised. A murmur ran through the audience which fell silent as soon as the bony monarch got to his feet.
"Why did you come here? What possessed you to think you could blatantly ride through this city, up to the seat of kings, and threaten to kill our beloved crown prince? We all heard your treason—your intention to murder my son outside the walls of his own home."
Brandon took a deep breath, aware of the danger he was in, and despite the urge to fight his bounds and howl he tried to use some of his father's measure. "Justice. I came here for justice for my sister."
The audience's combined whispers became a roar, which ceased as the king held his hand up.
"Then I will show you the meaning of justice, Stark." The king walked past his new prizes, looking at the eager faces beyond waiting for his judgment. "As your king...as a loving father...I know that the values of the boy come from the man that raised him. I demand that the fathers of each of these traitors come to King's Landing to answer for their son's actions, to watch their trial, and to swear their loyalty before witnesses. All treason must be punished, and to come with an army, through the streets of our peaceful city, there will be a dear price to be paid. Mark my words."
It was a popular decision, and there was much nodding of heads and cheers. Owen Merryweather was all smiles as the king returned to the throne, though Aerys did not seat himself.
"Take these fools to the dungeon to wait the arrival of their kin. The north is a long way and I'm sure they could use the time to reflect."
The king left the room as the prisoners were hauled to the feet and pushed away, yelling as they went.
