A/N: Hope all my American fans had a happy Thanksgiving! :)

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 55: Campfires

"Lord Stark!" Ned turned his head to see a Vale knight grinning at him. "Give em' hells, Rock of Harrenhal!"

"The Rock!" cheered other knights around him. News of his engaging Robert Baratheon to save the King's life had spread to the entire army. Someone said he stood firm like a rock against the Stormlands, and the name stuck.

Ned truly had mixed feelings about it - he'd risk his own life to protect his goodbrother without hesitation, but even Rhaegar understood that being in at the death with a man once called brother was not something to celebrate.

Among them appeared a smiling Ser Richard Lonmouth… given what Ned did, Rhaegar's old partisans were now quite partial to him. "Ned Stark, come join us! Regale us with how you vanquished Ser Arthur Dayne on the sparring grounds."

Smiling in spite of himself, Ned shook his head - seeing Ser Barristan approaching him.. "Next time, Ser Richard. It appears I owe the King my attention." Hearing the good natured jeers of the knights, he chuckled and turned to the kingsguard. "Ser Barristan, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"His Grace wishes to speak with you, Lord Stark," Barristan replied. While he liked Ned, the knight was almost never informal.

Nodding, Ned followed the knight towards the royal tent. Surrounded by Targaryen guards and the gleaming silver armor of the Kingsguards on duty, Rhaegar was clearly taking no chances at his protection. I cannot blame him. One way or another, the next few weeks would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned could feel it. Don't worry, Lya. After this, come hells or high water I will defeat Renly and rescue you and Elia. He didn't intend to die upon the field.

Taking his position at the entrance - Oswell across from him - Barristan bid Ned entry to the royal tent. Inside the heat of a dozen braziers assaulted him, Ned tugging on his collar. In the center of the room sizzled the dragon egg. He could smell Melisandre's influence even with the Red Woman having departed.

But instead of being immersed in some crazed ritual or meditation, Ned found his goodbrother sitting upon a camp chair, reading a letter in quiet contemplation. "Brother?" Getting closer, he noticed tears streaking down Rhaegar's cheeks. "What's wrong?"

Rhaegar turned to him, but there was a smile on his face. "I have a son," he said, voice reverent. In awe of what Elia's words disclosed to him.

Blinking in confusion, at first Ned was going to point out he did in fact have one with Aegon but then realization dawned on him. "Lya...?" His face lit up.

"Ned, you are the uncle to Prince Jon Targaryen."

Jon... He didn't know why, but hearing the little one's name filled Ned with a surprising warmth beyond that of just any uncle. Ned was certain he would have done anything for the little child. "Congratulations, Rhaegar," he beamed, grasping the King's shoulder. He loved little Rhaenys and Egg would certainly be a delight grown up, but finally his sister had a babe of her womb. Jon..."An... interesting name. Knowing Lya, I would have honestly expected Daeron or Jaehaerys."

Wiping away his tears, Rhaegar chuckled. "Lya... she and Elia seemed to associate that name with me, resulting in this." Hands spreading wide, the King basked in an uncharacteristic happiness. "I have another son!" He threw his arms around Ned in a crushing hug, lifting him up. "You're an uncle now, brother."

"Aye… please… put me down," Ned croaked.

The King laughed and complied. "Sorry about that." As the seconds ticked by, his face started to fall - happiness retreating. "Apparently he was born the day Renly assaulted Starfall."

Ned gulped. "Did any…"

"No. Arthur, Dacey, and Benjen protected the women and children, and our goodbrother Oberyn arrived at the last minute to kill and capture the rest."

Gods keep you, Ben. Already a magnificent Kingsguard, protecting their pack. "Well, that's all good news, isn't it? Why the anger?" He could tell just by the tension roiling within his goodbrother - the dragon was awoken.

Not answering, Rhaegar instead picked up another letter… a stack of letters in fact. "Oberyn sent this to me…" Rhaegar finally spoke through clenched teeth, eyes blazing in fury. "Said he found it on Renly's person."

Three lines down his eyes widened, quickly skimming the other, slightly faded letter in shock… which quickly morphed into an icy fury that rivalled Rhaegar's. "If you don't kill him, allow me the honor."

"No Ned… he shall burn." The fitting punishment is dragonfire. "I trusted the wrong people, Ned… this war began because I was too naive." His shoulders felt heavy with guilt.

Putting away his anger, Ned stepped closer to Rhaegar. "You already have tens of thousands of the living on your shoulders. Don't take up that of the dead as well."

"Don't you see, brother? I've already failed as a husband and father… I wasn't even there to see my son come into the world…" Rhaegar hung his head, ashamed. "Now I have a son that I've never seen, taken away from him because of the father I failed to stop and the traitor I trusted as a friend."

"You are fighting to make a world for Jon, Rhae, and Egg to thrive in peace." There was no doubt in Ned's mind that Rhaegar's victory would grant them that. "Lya and Elia know this, Egg and Rhae know this, and I'm certain Jon will as well - that boy will love you as much as your other two, I'm sure"

Rhaegar closed his eyes for a moment before smiling sadly at Ned. "I hope to be a better father than mine own."

"You always were Rhaegar."

Sharing smiles, Rhaegar offered Ned one of the camp chairs as he poured them each a mug of ale. "I don't know how you like this stuff, but it's cheap and not as sour as Dornish reds." He raised the mug, smirking as Ned savored the taste. "And you'll be a father soon, if I recall correctly?"

Almost sputtering on the fine liquid, Ned felt the mixture of feelings that always flared up at the reminder of his marriage. Happiness at impending fatherhood, nervousness as to the future, and an ever so slight dread. "Yeah.."

"Not excited, brother?" Rhaegar furrowed his brows.

"I am Rhaegar. I love my child already." Ned sighed. "What I'm not looking forward to is my wife and that septa of hers forcing all their traditions down my child's throat."

"Ah, I understand." He leaned back in his seat. "Uncle Duncan told me that he deliberately rejected marrying Celia Tully because of that family's piety. House Targaryen and the Seven simply don't mix… nor do they with the North."

"Catelyn is the mother and deep down, she's a kind soul." Much as this wasn't at all his first choice - the thought of his lioness made Ned's heart ache - he wasn't malicious or spiteful. "But we are Starks. The blood of the First Men course strong through our veins and nothing good can come of denying my child the gods of their ancestors."

"Well, I'm not worried." Ned raised an eyebrow, waiting for Rhaegar to elaborate. "if your child takes after his or her aunt, not even Aegon the Conqueror could take away her Northern instincts." There was a slight silence before the two of them roared in laughter. Lyanna's stubbornness was something they were both familiar with.

Just then, Oswell stepped through the tent flap. "Raven from Harrenhal, your Grace." The two of them instantly frowned. "Bearing Lord Connington's seal." The frowns turned to snarls.

"Give it here," Rhaegar commanded. Leafing through it. "Apparently he wants a parley."

"You're not going to give it to him, right?"

The King thought for a moment. "No… I think I'm going to accept."


As a child, Tywin Lannister had adored running around the fountains of the Rock's gardens with his mother, a rare moment of carefree joy for the boy forced to grow quickly into the Lord of the Keep. Often he would return if he wanted a quiet, calm time away from the stresses of life, he'd return. It usually worked.

Not today, for his guest… unsettled him. "I must say, when the Prince informed me that he was sending a representative to treat with me, I did not expect him to send a Red Priestess."

Red eyes twinkling behind a… serene yet intense mask, Melisandre offered a shallow chuckle. "I am not unknowing of my effect on people. Those who I serve often find it an asset rather than a liability."

"Of that I am confident, Lady Melisandre." Hands kept behind his back while hers were clasped out in front, Tywin's eyes studied the woman. Undoubtedly beautiful, yet with a dangerous air to her. One that confirmed to him of just what she was capable of. Rhaegar is very smart… and very foolish to keep her around. Tyanna of the Tower or Lady Misery came to mind from the histories - dangerous mystics associated with Targaryen Kings and Princes. "What is it that you do for Prince Rhaegar, Lady?"

A familiar voice from behind made Tywin close his eyes and grit his teeth. "Well, I can make a guess but that would be rather obscene, right father?"

Tyrion's chuckles grated on Tywin's nerves. "Forgive me for my son's behavior," he said to Melisandre with a glare shot to his son. "He doesn't choose to express the manners I taught him."

Planting a hand on his chest, Tyrion feigned hurt. "Forgive me, father. My heart hurts with regret."

Smirking softly at the look of… irritation on Lord Lannister's face, Melisandre spoke up. "Your son is a small man with a big shadow, Lord Tywin. I wouldn't be so dismissive."

Tywin arched an eyebrow at her, his pale green eyes flecked with gold unable to read her as they did with most people. It unsettled him further. "I doubt it, Lady Melisandre, but back to the subject in hand - what does Rhaegar intend with sending you here?"

"An alliance," Melisandre spoke quickly, eyes shifting to the fountains. "One that would benefit your House as well as the Realm."

I knew it. "I see." The Old Lion held a better read of the politics of the Realm than anyone else apart from perhaps Varys or Doran Martell. "And can you give me a reason as to why I should pledge my House, bannermen, and my legacy for a pretender?"

"A King, not a pretender," Melisandre said firmly. "I could tell you about how the true pretender despises you. How he thinks you are to bring about the Doom of Valyria... but I shan't." Her eyes seemed to glow. "Only that doom will befall your entire House if you don't enter this war."

If Tywin was perturbed, he didn't show it. "With all due respect Lady Melisandre, I single-handedly made this family second only to House Targaryen itself."

"Yes, the mighty House Lannister… if only that greatness came to his children."

"Tyrion, shut it," Tywin seethed, turning back to Melisandre when Tyrion raised his hands, piping down. "I secured our place in history. Don't worry, Lady Melisandre, my legacy will not be destroyed.

"Not if you choose poorly. The Lord of Light's will is foretold."

The mystical and religious… such fools. "How will this war destroy all of it?" he scoffed. Tywin had been approached by septons before demanding that he repent and conform, and his first inclination was to treat Melisandre as he did them.

She wasn't fazed. "Not this war, but the next... and the next after that. Your sons and daughter can save it, but only if you do your duty."

Rolling his eyes, the Lord of Casterly Rock offered a small smile. "Can you give me proof that what you're saying is not pure mummery. I find most mystics to be just that?"

Eyebrow raised, Melisandre may have been detached from most worldly things since donning the mantle of R'hllor, she did have a desire to prove the truths presented to her by her Lord. "Do you have a hearth?"

He was taken aback by the question - confused more than anything else. "Well, of course we have one," Tyrion said with a giggle before Tywin responded,

Melisandre smiled, eyes twinkling. "Let's go." Tywin hesitated, but eventually sighed and conceded the point. With an extended hand, he led his guest towards his own solar, already feeling his head pounding the further he stepped away from the fountains.

Minutes later a hearth was lit, by Tywin's own hands - he wasn't about to let a servant in on what was going on… and he wasn't a pompous old man. Tyrion hung back, resisting the urge to make an inappropriate comment on Tywin Lannister bending over. His father might dismiss him and he did not want to miss this.

As the fire began to catch and grow, Melisandre exhaled at the calming power that it brought to her. "Look at the flames, Lord Tywin," she declared in a silky voice. Murmuring incantations in High Valyrian, she could feel the fires growing hotter. Filling the room with warmth and banishing the cold of winter. "Let the future reveal itself to you."

Tywin was growing more convinced to throw her out, Rhaegar be damned, but felt drawn by the flames nonetheless.

"Do not be afraid, Lord Tywin. They will not burn you, just scorch your soul with the truth."

This is ridiculous… Suddenly he opened his eyes and found himself almost outside of his body.

Falling, he was falling. Pain ripping through his skull as the flames licked at his skin. Images bombarded his mind, the headache of before drowned by the sheer agony of what Tywin was forced to see.

His son Jaime, incinerated in a gout of wildfire while the unearthly cackling of Aerys Targaryen boomed in the background.

Cersei wailing like a madwoman, cuddling the body of a boy no older than thirteen - his neck was torn to bloody gaps and his face a purple tint to it, green-eyed in death.

His grandson getting his throat slit by a man with no skin, further decapitated by a pack of shadows.

To his utter surprise, Tywin also showed Tyrion, mismatched eyes devoid of the sparkling mirth as he was hanged in front of a cheering crowd.

He tore his gaze away as a massive dragon burning an army in Lannister armor in its path.

Next found himself in an all too familiar place - the tower of the hand. Such had been the place that had been his home for so many years, back when Aerys wasn't mad. Steffon was still alive and the three of them were still brothers. Joanna still alive…

But the sudden twag of a crossbow jerked him off his musings. Tywin looked up and saw something that made his blood run cold and his eyes widened in shock.

There he was - Tywin Lannister, the proud Lord of Casterly Rock slumped over the privy. He wore only a loosely tied robe, drenched in blood from a crossbow bolt buried deep in his groin. "You... you shot me" he heard himself grunt, panic and distress clear in his wavering voice.

"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my Lord. That must be why you're the Hand of the King." The voice of his killer. Tywin couldn't identify it for the life of him, the most smug tone to it that it put Aerys' to shame. A dark satisfaction tinged it, as if this figure had waited a long time for this to happen.

He saw himself move his lips to speak but he couldn't comprehend it.

The killer didn't have that problem. "Now that's where you're mistaken, my Lord. Why... I believe I'm you writ small. Do me a kindness now and die quickly, I have a ship to catch." And then Tywin could smell it, as his bowels loosened at the moment of death. It was so putrid that he thought he would faint right there.

And the vision ended as a massive black dragon enveloped everything in a gout of flame stone and rocks collapsing around everything.

Next thing he realized, he was collapsed on the floor, sweat drenching him from head to toe. "Father? What did you see?"

He turned to see his second son staring at him like he just grew a second head, clearly surprised to see the mighty lord of casterly rock in such a state. "Our... deaths, the... destruction of... everything I built" he answered through labored breaths.

Tyrion pursed his lips. "It seems we are all capable of being the Reynes of Castamere"

Melisandre watched the scene unfold with a satisfied smile on her face. You made the correct choice Lord Tywin. "I was told by my King to give you this if you accepted." She hands him a letter. "Plan accordingly."

All the images burned in his brain, in that moment he made a decision. "Tyrion, go find your uncles and Loren. I have ravens to send." Without a further word he stormed out. Tyrion was stunned but did as he was told, racing out as his stunted legs could carry him.

The Red Woman directed a grin to the flames. Don't worry my king, help is on its way.

Walking outside, heading to her guest quarters, Melisandre heard the laughter of a woman and a babe from around the corner. Curious, she walked briskly until spotting a sight that made her smile. There stood the Light of the West, cradling a beautiful little boy in her arms. He was clearly hers, if the curly blond hair and innocent emerald eyes were any indication.

From how she laughed and showered love on her son, Cersei Lannister hadn't noticed Melisandre until she came closer. "Lady Cersei."

The only daughter of Tywin Lannister looked up. Few guests were allowed close to the family's private quarters. "Lady Melisandre." Much as she wanted to go back to mothering Robb, she was… curious. "May I know what you are doing in my keep? Does it have anything to do with the fact that I just saw my imp of a brother run like he was escaping from gods knows what?"

"You'll find out soon enough, my Lady." Cryptic in her answers, Melisandre leaned down - looking directly at Robb. "A charming little boy. He looks like his uncle"

Cersei rolled her eyes. Everyone told her that her son was the spitting image of Jaime at Robb's age, from their maester to Aunt Genna. Which was true, but Robb also looked like his father. "Our family's coloring is strong, Lady Melisandre. Of course he would resemble us."

Melisandre nodded and opened her arms a little. "May I?"

Not truly trusting her, Cersei ended up reasoning that Mel wouldn't try anything in the middle of her father's keep. Gingerly, she handed Robb over to the priestess.

As she nestled the babe in her arms, Robb looked at her and began to laugh as he raised his little chubby fist at her. "He is a beautiful babe. A strong and lively lionwolf you have, Lady Cersei"

Green eyes widened, suddenly fearful. "I beg your pardon?"

"You don't have to fear Lady Cersei, I shall never reveal the identity of Robb Hill's father, on that you have my word."

Cersei sighs, a tear in her eyes. "He must never know... it would kill him." Poor Ned, married to another. From whatever Cersei knew, Catelyn Tully didn't deserve him - no one truly did.

"Do not despair my Lady, the Lord of Light gives his blessing to those of a good heart, and few I encountered poses even half as much as The Quiet Wolf"

Cersei bites her lip and takes Robb back into her arms. The little bit of Ned she will always have.

Melisandre saw the apprehensive look in her eyes and decided to give more reassurance. "Fear not Lady Cersei, for the monster that has haunted your dreams is no more." She left the mother and son where they stood, knowing she had done right by her King and her Lord.


Elia's lips curled into the widest smile at the sight before her. Heart clenching in happiness. Quickly, a pair of violet eyes found her. "Muna!"

The Queen staggered slightly as her daughter ran right into her legs. "Rhae, careful with muna," she chuckled.

Rhaenys pouted, innocent eyes wide. "Sorry, muna." But the excitement was back only moments later, the Princess tugging on Elia's hand. "Look at what Jon is doing!"

Sitting on a comfortable chair in their solar, Egg tucked in by her side and a resting yet awake Jon nestled in her arms, she met Elia's gaze with a sparkling joy. "She's spent over an hour fussing over her little brother," she laughed. "I suppose our son has been doing the same." With a free arm, she ruffled Egg's wispy silver locks.

Their son waved his arms. "Muna, muna!"

"Oh, sweetling." Elia leaned down and kissed Egg on the forehead, absolutely overjoyed at his joy before looking at their newborn babe. "So, Rhae - I'm curious as to what Jon is doing. Please show me."

Hair bouncing adorably as she rocked on her heels - Elia and Lyanna shared a look, cause that was something Rhaegar always did - Rhae waved her hand until she caught Jon's attention. "Hi baby brudder," she told him. His own indigo eyes studied her for a moment, as if… inquisitive. Our little Prince is a smart one, like his father. "Look, muna." With a flourish, she pressed her index finger right on Jon's palm. Rhaenys dissolved into a flurry of giggles when Jon's fingers instinctively grasped hers. "He does it all the time!" she shouted with excitement. Which got Egg to giggle as well.

Watching her close-knit family with sheer happiness, Lyanna almost swooned when Jon's lips curled into a tiny smile of his own. Surrounded by those that loved him, he smiled often. "Enough, Rhae," she gently chided, kissing her cheek before tugging Jon tight against her chest. "Your baby brother needs his sleep."

"He not sleepy," Rhaenys replied with a huff."

"Oh? You're not, my little dragonwolf?" Grinning at Elia, she pounced. Blowing raspberries on Jon's belly until the newborn was waving his arms, toothless mouth open in happiness. The sight made both mother and daughter laugh.

But Egg looked a bit jealous. "Muna, up!" he begged, clutching at Lyanna until Elia scooped him up.

"Don't think we didn't forget about you, sweetling." Balancing him in the crook of one arm, the other tickled his feet and midsection."

Egg squirmed and giggled. "Muna, no…" But he seemed to be enjoying himself. They were all enjoying themselves.

And such was how Oberyn found them. Arms crossed and smirking. "When I heard giggling, sister, I expected something much different and… adult-oriented."

Holding her son, Elia flushed red. "Oberyn!" Still seated, Lyanna continued to cradle Jon, but threw her goodbrother a cross look.

Rhaenys was… confused. "I's a big dragon. I wanna do adult stuff!" That seemed to make her mothers only more mortified, while her uncle burst out into laughter. "What? What's funny?"

"We'll tell you when you get older, sweetling," Lyanna told her. "What do you want, Oberyn?" Her voice to him was far less pleasant as to Rhae, much as she was growing to enjoy his company.

"Oh, so tense, Lya. I suppose post-birth is a problem for women, considering what they can't do." He held up his hands in surrender before she could berate him further. "I came to see if I can borrow your wife for a moment."

Elia was close to slapping him down - too enraptured by the day of fun with her beautiful wife and adorable children - when Lya motioned for her to join him. "Are you sure, my love?" she asked.

"Aye, go speak with your brother." Lyanna stood, pressing her lips against Elia's in a chaste kiss. "I have to put Jon to bed for his mid-morning nap anyways. We'll have some… alone time after." She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Elia giggle. Oberyn merely rolled his eyes, though he was the one person who was least able to criticize.

"Seems our Queen has only grown in her feelings since you left Sunspear?" Oberyn asked Elia soon after, the two of them walking along the battlements. "Seems many have found love within these walls, even Ash."

Smirking, Elia glanced out at the Torrentine - beautiful once again, rid of the blight of the battle. "Aye. Apparently Northerners are hard to resist."

"I should really take Ellaria there, see what it's all about… after she gives birth, of course."

Elia laughed, but grew serious. "Why did you call me out here from my family, brother?"

His gaze hardened, but there was worry in his eyes. "I am to head towards the capitol, by ship." Oberyn watched as his sister's lips formed a surprised O. "Our brother… apparently he's been plotting under our very noses." He shook his head. "I can't believe I didn't figure it out, but he's had our entire fleet assemble at Planky Town with an army of fifteen-thousand men."

"To attack King's Landing by sea…" Elia put the pieces together. Cheeks reddening, an anger welled inside her. "And he does this instead of sending them to assist my husband in winning this war?" That Doran wasn't truly neutral didn't matter… it reeked of duplicity, especially in allowing Renly to move on Starfall without doing anything. Wait… did he realize Oberyn would act? It was classic Doran, the cultured Lord persona hiding a mind so filled with plots that would make cobwebs look simple.

"It's cowardly, I know, but he's planning something. Just thought to warn you before our men escort you back north."

Elia sighed. At least he was now fighting for Rhaegar. "It's not our brother I'm truly worried about, Oberyn." He raised his brow. "I think Rhaegar has scorpions in his bed… at least people who could end up scorpions. We already saw it with Connington."

"Should have known that shit was a duplicitous taint. Saw the way he looked at Rhaegar - lust bordering on obsession." He leaned against the wall, looking at Elia. "And you think there are more in Rhaegar's inner circle that are working for Aerys?"

"Not for Aerys, at least I don't think." She pursed her lips. "What's your opinion on Varys?"

Oberyn snorted. "Never trust a man without a cock - someone who can't enjoy the simplest pleasures of life would oft run to plotting. Why? You suspect him of treason?"

She shook her head. "Not treason… self-serving mostly. I have… suspicions. Seen things that raise my defences when it comes to him."

"I trust you… and the implication is a problematic one. Varys controls the largest information network in the Seven Kingdoms. I don't know how he does it, but such is the reality."

Resting her arms atop the parapet, Elia frowned. "Perhaps I should build a network to rival his. Then I could give Rhaegar trustworthy information."

"That's a thought." Sensing she was still morose, Oberyn decided it was time. "Allow me to show you something." He pulled out a small smack from his belt. "A gift for Rhaegar, but I believe you would appreciate it just as much." Without more delay, he took it out to display to her.

Elia was speechless upon the sight. "Brother..."

"Consider it an apology... for being tardy."

She took the crown of Aegon the Conqueror - left in the hands of House Martell since the death of Daeron the Young Dragon - without question. Fingering the brilliant rubies that emblazoned the Valyrian steel finish. Gods how this will look on him. The mere thought of it made her shudder with pleasure. "Apology accepted, brother." She hugged Oberyn tightly before a shit eating grin appeared on her face. "Doran's gonna be so fucking pissed"

"Part of me hopes not to see the look on his face, while the other part does."

"I assure you I do, I can't wait to see him come with his tail between his legs, knowing we won this war without him." Her grin deflated. "I'm sure he will not want to meet his new nephew," Elia said sadly, afterwards.

Oberyn looked sad as well. "We both know that to him any child born of Lyanna will never be his family." Sensing the hurt on his sister's face, Oberyn took her in his arms. "But you can be sure that I see him as my nephew, and I'll make sure my daughters, future children, Ellaria, and Arianne see him as family"

Elia hugs him back. "I can't believe Ellaria's going to be a mother"

"Me neither, but I've been dying to give my girls another sibling, now she will give them one, and hopefully more will come."

In that moment Elia made a decision. "I'll make Rhaegar legitimize Ellaria and your daughters. He won't need to do the future ones since you'll undoubtedly marry."

"You don't have to, Elia."

She pressed her palms over his hand. "For Aegon the Conqueror's crown, I doubt Rhaegar could refuse."


Banners of his House fluttering behind him, the King-claimant found his feet pushing harder against the stirrups as the first riders appeared over the crest of the rolling hill. Helmless, he was glad for the cloudy day to shield his face from the sun. Nevertheless, Rhaegar squinted - making out the banners of the opposing party. Griffins on red and white. So he did dare to show up. His frown deepened.

"Are you sure you wish to handle this alone, your Grace?" Ser Gerold asked, speaking for the Kingsguard. All wore worried glances, not liking this at all.

Rhaegar nodded. "If I know Connington…" He refused to use the name of his beloved newborn son when referring to the traitor that was once his friend. "And I do, he won't try and harm me."

A snort came from Bronn, the only man among them not wearing armor plate - merely boiled leather. "Waste of fuckin' time, this is." He swatted away a leaf that the wind blew upon his face. "Just give me an bow and a minute head start and I'll have that cunt bleedin' on the ground with an arrow in his eye… or his throat."

Tempting as that sounded, Rhaegar shook his head. "No… he deserves to watch as all he's longed for and worked for burns around him."

None of the King's retinue begrudged him for the fire in his eyes, the hate in his tone. They knew where it came from. "Looks like he's abiding by the agreement," Barristan mused, watching as a lone figure in red and white trotted atop his mount towards the middle of the field. "Shall we see you off, my King?"

"Aye. If anything happens, Bronn… you know what to do."

"With fuckin' pleasure." At that, Rhaegar urged Moondancer into a trot. The horse neighing as he galloped. Ironic, boy. Your foal was born just as mine was. The recent letter from Lya managed to put a small smile on his face, tempering his anger. Rhaegar would need all his self-control for this.

As he grew closer, Rhaegar made out the form of his once closest friend in more detail. Full mail and plate of the Stormlands gleaming brightly, it was obvious that Jon Connington had dressed in his best. Red hair fully coiffed, beard trimmed, he looked objectively dashing and handsome - as if he were courting an intended wife. I suppose he thinks he is. Rhaegar fought a shudder. Was I always that naive? Elia knew - that he was certain of. His mother too, her successful attempts to push him closer to Arthur now making sense to him.

Jon was always obsessed with me, but… I never thought he'd go this far.

Also without helm, Connington's lips stretched into a beaming smile as Rhaegar got within talking range - stopping at a distance of four yards or so. "My King," he bowed in the saddle, right arm extending out while the left clasped his chest.

Rhaegar cocked his head. "So that refers to me now? Not my father."

The biting tone seemed to rock Connington, but he recovered. "Firstly, it's wonderful to see you, Rhaegar. Secondly, I do not know what you mean? Regardless of what has transpired, my loyalty has been solely to you."

"You've been quite the mummer then, leading his armies against mine in battle… or did tens of thousands simply fail to see you fighting on my side?"

In his mind, Connington had dreamed of this moment for many moons. Where he and Rhaegar would finally join forces and vanquish all that opposed him. Yes, his gambit with Renly failed, but there would be other chances to rid him of the Dornish and Northern whores. Plenty of poisons that leave no trace. And yet… Rhaegar was angry, though he understood.

"I regretted every moment of it, my King, but a necessary mummery in order to put me in a position to hand over the Reach and Stormlands to you when the time came." Connington smiled, gesturing behind him. "They await your command if you just say the word."

"What word?" Rhaegar clenched the reins tighter. "I almost died on that field thanks to your mummery, and you claim to say you were secretly fighting for me?"

It had taken all of his inner resolve not to kill Robert after the battle, thus exposing his true intentions. Connington looked saddened but stayed firm. "I regret that… it was foolish of me to allow Robert to go into battle knowing what he desired, but it was I who stopped the attack. Your forces would have been annihilated if it wasn't for me."

A scoff. "That just proves what a fool you are."

"Rhaegar… please." Somehow, this was getting away from him. "There is no one more loyal to you than I. Under no circumstances would I do you harm."

"Is that a fact?" Unable to control himself anymore, Rhaegar slams one mailed fist onto the other palm, startling Connington at the sudden sound. "Tell me, Jon, when did you first start plotting against me."

He blinked. "I never…"

"Cut the bullshit!" roared the dragon. "I know you've been attempting to slaughter my family for moons now!" He shook his head. "Seducing Renly Baratheon to do your dirty work… I'm disgusted."

Connington's eyes widened. How the fuck does he know about that? "Whatever Lord Renly did was without my knowledge. I know the boy and he's always been eager to get ahead…" He trailed off, going pale when Rhaegar withdrew a tiny scrap of parchment from his saddlebag.

"Let me read your words for you, refresh your memory." Rhaegar cleared his throat, eyes blazing dragonfire. "'My beloved Stag,'" he hissed. "'The time has come for you to be strong. We cannot risk the northern cunt and the Dornish whore continuing to pollute the King's house. Storm Starfall and kill them, along with their half-breed babes aside from Princess Rhaenys - only she to be taken alive!' Would you like to read the rest yourself?!" Crumpling the note in disgust, with a snarl of rage he tossed the balled up parchment at Connington. "You thought I wouldn't find out your treachery?!"

Jaw slack, sweat starting to soak his brow and tunic in spite of the chilly wind, Connington opened his mouth to speak only for many responses to die on his tongue. "Rhaegar… it's…"

"No, don't you dare fucking speak." Hand going to Blackfyre, he didn't unsheath it but made sure Connington saw him. "I should kill you where you stand."

"Please, Rhaegar… I did not betray you…"

"When you betray my brides, you betray me. They are a part of me and I a part of them. My wives, my children." At each word, he could see Connington react as if a knife was put into his gut. For a brief moment, the anger subsided and hurt took its place. "Why, Jon? Why?"

Trembling, pale… Connington ended up rallying for but a moment. "You deserved better… they would have destroyed you, the man I adore."

Closing his eyes, the violet orbs emerged with a dark tint to them. Pure fury behind them… the fury of a dragon. "Next time we see each other, Lord Connington, I will bury Blackfyre into your eye." Not letting another word be said, Rhaegar clicked his tongue and galloped off the field. Only when he was far enough away did he let the tear of a friendship mourned fall down his cheek.


Eyes scrunched shut, Rhaella nevertheless winced as the cold metal of the examining instrument brushed against her inner thigh. She dared not to look though. There were many worse things that had happened to her since losing her dear father in the Tragedy of Summerhall, but arguably one of the most humiliating was having her most intimate places 'examined' by someone with the gentleness and care of a drunken Ghiscari sailor.

"Hold still, your Grace," came the blubbering voice of Grand Maester Pycelle from between her legs. "You do not wish for me to slip and hurt the Princess."

"I'll burn you alive if you do, Pycelle." To make matters worse for Rhaella, her husband the King stood not too far from the Grand Maester. Aerys had always been increasingly haggard and slovenly since returning from Duskendale, but by the gods he was the worst he had ever been. Beard unshaven and scraggly, long hair tangled down his shoulders, and robes covered in grime and dust nearly made her stomach roil… disgust was only tempered by the terror she felt every time she saw his eyes - wide and glowing with a wicked mania. He used to only have them when burning someone, but now… it was all the time.

Rhaella yelped as Pycelle moved the instrument to her opening, probing inward. Meeting his gaze, she swore he gave her a slight smirk as he did so.

Aerys wasn't paying attention, still ranting. "And for once, I'm glad it is a girl." Tapping his fingers together with manic energy, he seemed to be speaking to persons not literally present. "A perfect draconic daughter for Viserys to marry. No more weakling sons poisoned by Dornish sluts and Wildling witches." Aerys looked at his sister-wife. "And I will make sure to raise this one myself. She will be the apple of my eye, sweet sister."

Staring at him blankly, Rhaella hated her brother with every bit of her being. I've known true passion, brother. I finally have had what you've never given me. A small comfort, though, as there was no escaping from him unless Rhaegar won his war.

Thankfully for her, Pycelle was finished. "The babe seems in perfect health, your Grace. As does the Queen."

"Good good… now I won't have to burn you." He cackled as the Grand Maester bowed and scurried away. "Get dressed, sister. This isn't a fucking brothel." Without another word, he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Rising, Rhaella waddled towards the chests and dressers to don a robe and smallclothes to compliment her nightdress, shivering from both the chill of her unheated chambers and the disgust of Pycelle's hands on her. Her hands roamed around her bump. "Daenerys, I love you so dearly… I pray every day that you'll be born into peace."

The knock on the door startled her. "Your Grace, may I enter?"

Her heart skipped a beat, smile forming on her face at the voice. "Yes, Ser Jaime. Enter." As she walked back to the bed, his beautiful, golden face banished away the horrible feeling of her husband. "You look to be in a good mood for once," she chuckled.

Nodding, Jaime suddenly wrinkled his nose. "By the gods, they let you dwell in this chill?" cursing at the lack of kindling, before Rhaella could speak he grabbed a chair and smashed it against the wall, making her yelp. "Forgive me, my Queen, but the cold isn't good for you or the Princess."

Rhaella watched him intently, slowly recovering all the little things that Jaime had done for her since donning the white cloak. Why didn't I notice earlier? It all seemed obvious now.

Am I falling for him?

You truly are. Joanna's boy… gods, Rhaella remembered when her late friend was pregnant with him and his sister. But while that would have turned her off before, Joanna had always been able to put a smile on her face whenever Aerys did something awful to her. In this, he was exactly like her.

He and I can never be. Aerys would destroy them both like Bethany Bracken and her lover.

But I want him… Carnally, certainly, but was it love? I think it is.

"Your Grace?" She almost blushed, seeing his green eyes twinkling at catching her ogling him. "I come bearing good news you will never hear elsewhere. You have become a grandmother again."

It took a moment, but Rhaella eventually beamed. "Lyanna gave birth?"

"Aye. Qu… Princess Lyanna brought Prince Jon Targaryen into the world at Starfall. Prince Oberyn broke the siege and they are safe."

Leaning back, Rhaella let out a relieved breath. "Daenerys… your nephew is alive and well." She kicked and wriggled around in her belly, as if happy herself. Opening her eyes, Rhaella saw Jaime very close to her, beaming as well.

Gods… am I truly powerless to resist him? Once she felt that way for a young knight, but at thirteen she was but a child. Aerys never elicited even the barest bit of passion even in their best moments, yet even as her mind screamed of the likely danger Rhaella couldn't help the feelings Joanna's son elicited from her. "Jaime..." she murmurs softly, biting her lip.

Jaime looked up. Her voice was… different. Hard to place, but he liked it. "Yes, my dragon?"

Rhaella blinked. My dragon? The name made her shiver in delight. And yet… she waved him off. "Me? I'd make a terrible dragon," she chuckled.

Frowning, Jaime knew what she was doing and he hated it. Striding forward, he gently caressed her cheek, hearing her sigh as her eyes fluttered closed. "What did I say about thinking of yourself like that? You're a magnificent dragon…" Her lids opened, revealing the shimmering violet of her eyes. "The Mother of Dragons if you will."

Mother of dragons… Rhaegar… Viserys… and little Daenerys in my womb. It was growing harder and harder as the days passed to put off Jaime - Rhaella honestly hated having to. "You sound just like your mother... she was always an optimist."

"I get that a lot," Jaime laughed, pulling up a chair to sit beside the bed. "Cersei may be the one who got her beauty but I got her gentle touch, outside the training yard, that is."

The image of him training… shirtless… came to her mind unbidden. I would say you have her beauty too. His eyes then widened, only to morph into a grin. It took a moment, but Rhaella blushed a bright red. "Did I say that out loud"

He nodded. "You did, although I shouldn't be surprised since I'm basically Cersei." Confidently talking, it masked how his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. "With a cock as much as she is me with teats, as my brother would say."

Unable to help herself, Rhaella burst into a flurry of giggles. Not the most regal sight, but she didn't care. "Well, I wouldn't know about your sister... but I am familiar with…" Rhaella's voice dropped low. "That part of your anatomy." She felt… daring.

"Oh, you have, my dragon." He felt the aforementioned organ grow at her words. This fierce dragon hidden underneath all the inferiority and meekness Aerys drilled into her.

Sharing matching smirks, Rhaella's soon vanished - the high of finally expressing her inner passion evaporating into reality. "What are we doing?" she bit her lip, suddenly nervous.

With youthful exuberance and the knowledge Varys was - for his own reasons - keeping his secret, Jaime didn't care for anything but not being heard. "I am confessing the love that has been simmering inside me for the longest time."

She blushed, looking away. "How can you love me? It could destroy you, and…" The words of her brother came to mind… everything he called her after each miscarriage. "...and I'm not worth it."

Jaime immediately took her hands into his. "Listen to me. You're worth the world, Rhaella, never doubt that."

A tear fell down her cheek. "You... you've been the first person to truly care for me in that way."

"And I'll never stop, I swear it on all the gods." Even if they could never be, he'd be damned if Rhaella didn't know she was worth loving.

Wordlessly, Rhaella urged him closer - leaning her forehead against his. Savoring the sweet intimacy it provided with grasping, perhaps foolish relish. "Gods forgive me for it, but I do not regret sharing your feelings."

Jaime was stunned, his emerald eyes widening impossibly "Wha..." he could not even complete a word.

She cut him off quickly with a greedy kiss. Bold and selfish, but she couldn't help herself.

Although every part of Jaime wished to embrace her and make love to her until she shattered with his name on her lips, he lightly pushed on her abdomen. Feeling the princess squirm underneath for the briefest of moments. "My Queen…"

Rhaella sighed, but she knew it was right. "What we're doing is dangerous, Jaime"

"I know." A deep breath left his lips before he met her gaze again. "It's not the end of it, though," he assured her. "Rhaegar has gathered his armies near Stony Sept to meet Robert." He reached out, to take her hand, thumb stroking the soft skin. "Rhaegar will win. We just have to wait a little longer."

But was that true? Would Rhaegar win? Rhaella was under no illusions of what would happen to her if Aerys won, or if Rhaegar fell even as he defeated her husband's forces. Lya, Elia, Viserys, Aegon, Rhaenys… Jon… Daenerys… She slowly brought his hand to her lips, kissing it. "Promise me something, Jaime."

"Anything Rhaella." He didn't hesitate.

"If something happens to me... just take Daenerys and go." Her voice grew desperate. "Go to Rhaegar, or to Lya and Elia… or to Ned Stark if all is lost."

Her fear was like a sword to the belly. "Nothing will ever happen to you, and I'll never let anything happen to that little one."

"Just promise me you'll do it, Jaime. Please"

Frowning hard, Jaime nevertheless knelt before his queen - drawing his sword and resting his forehead against the hilt. "Dany will be safe. On that I swear my honor as a knight, a kingsguard, and a man in love with you."

Heart melting at the pure sincerity in Jaime's voice, Rhaella once again felt the stirrings. Needing it - needing to feel the love she was finally granted after so long under Aerys' thumb… it was fitting that Joanna's baby boy gave it to her. "Can you do something for me, before you go?" She looked like a shy maiden when his gaze met hers.

He smiled. "Of course"

"Kiss me."

Without delay he rose and pressed his lips on hers once again, a chaste kiss. Much as he wanted to go deeper, Jaime knew it would make him lose the grip he had on his desires. "You are worth it, Rhaella," he whispered to her.

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course, because it's true." Bowing, he reluctantly bid his leave, closing the door gently behind her.

Watching him leave, Rhaella can't help but tear up. Her arms wrapping around the swell of her daughter. Here she was, finally finding some form of love after the birth of her third grandchild, and there was no chance for her to enjoy it at all. The place of her birth... it felt so much like a cage

Jaime bent his head against the wall, fists clenching. The burden grew by the day, of protecting the man who tormented his love against those that deserved Jaime's loyalty. Looking back longingly at the Queen's chambers, he let out a sigh. Just a little longer my dragon. Not much longer till the King returns.

The true King.

"Ser Jaime." Tiny voice pulling him out of his musings, a surprised Jaime looked down to see a common laundry girl no older than seven namedays looking up at him. Eyes wide and bright. "The spider sends his regards, Ser Jaime." Without further words, she pushed a tiny note into his palm and raced off.

It is time.

Meet the shipment at the green house beside Chataya's in one week's time for the wine run to Pentos. Do not disappoint me, Ser Jaime.

Spider.

Jaime had to bite the inside of his cheek to choke down a curse. You better not make me regret this Varys.

Did he truly have a choice, though?


Knife drawn, Rhaegar sat close by the fire. Warding off the cold while he prepared Blackfyre for the coming battle. "You're really trying to carve in Valyrian steel?" Richard Lonmouth stated, jaws slack.

"Aye." Rhaegar looked down at the sleek, rippled metal of the ancestral longsword of House Targaryen. "Can't give the order if I won't follow it personally."

"Many of my men aren't convinced that this is good," Ned Stark added, knocking back a swig of ale. "They don't like the Seven, let alone other faiths… you sure about this?"

Rhaegar nodded. "Don't ask me why. I just do." With this… you shall conquer. Jon born… his brides and children needing him, Rhaegar would use any means possible to get back to them. Thus was his order - with Robert's army only half a day's march from Stony Sept, they were to emblazon the same image of a line bisected by unfurled wings upon their shields or breastplates.

The symbol of the dragon… of Old Valyria.

"Didn't think anyone could marr Valyrian steel," Ned mused.

"Only other Valyrian steel weapons can… which is why this came in handy." Already etching the symbol at the base of Blackfyre, Rhaegar displayed the knife. A large dagger, simply designed with a straight blade and a dragonbone hilt. "My aunt Jenny gave it to me… said it was a nameday gift from my late Uncle Duncan. Never did know how he got it, but I treasure it all the same.

Whistling idly, Ser Richard stood. "Well, I'll make sure Ser Bonifer's men know their King's command. They'll grumble but you won the Trial by Seven." Finishing his mug, he let it drop to the grass as he sauntered off, humming a bawdy melody.

"Unfortunately, I recognize that tune," Ned chuckled. Not just from the irony of that, but the irony that its lyrics were obviously the norm in the Targaryen camp given the proportion of women in their camp followers. "The perils of being an honorable man, the ones we wish to… bond with are thousands of miles away."

Rhaegar noticed he didn't mention 'wife' as a description, but he chose to put it aside. "You don't speak lies, goodbrother. Dare I say I've been spoiled for other women." Elia and Lya… literally no one could compare to either of them. He raised an eyebrow. "Where would you learn that song? Brandon?"

Ned shook his head. "Robert."

"Ah." A frown formed on Rhaegar's face, remembering the hate in the eyes of the Stag Lord. He would have killed me where I stood without batting an eye. "I'd…" he began, trying to keep calm, "I'd rather not dredge up problematic states of mind, but please enlighten me, Ned. Robert Baratheon doesn't seem like someone you would be friends with. How did that happen?"

"I'm sometimes surprised myself." Ned sighed, shaking his head. "I was always shy - only my siblings could ever get me out of my shell, 'Ned Stark, the Quiet Wolf.' I rather prefer 'Rock of Harrenhal.'" They shared a chuckle at that. "When I was fostered in the Vale... I suppose Robert… he took me under his wing. Helped me adapt - with Bran and Ben far away, he was the closest thing I had to a brother."

Violet eyes stared at the flickering flames before turning to Ned. "I understand… reminds me of what I had with Arthur or Jon - though the former turned out far better than the latter."

"Quite right." A look of grief passed Ned's face. "I don't want to face him on the field… nor do I wish him to die."

"Sometimes it has to happen - the worst fact of civil wars."

"Aye, but… I can't give up on a friend, Rhaegar. I know somewhere Robert is still that kind-hearted boy I met at the Eyrie."

Boys grow up… look at my father. But all Rhaegar ended up doing was sigh. "No one wants more death, least of all me." He hunched forward, hand rubbing his face. "We should probably rest. Tomorrow… it will be brutal."

Grim pallor in his grey eyes, Ned nevertheless rose. "Night, brother." He raised his mug of ale. "To being alive this time tomorrow."

Rhaegar was unable not to smile. "I'll drink to that."

Toast complete, soon the King-claimant was left in his solitude. Laying back on the grass, he stared at the stars. Memories flashing before his eyes, of when his mother would hold him close on the fields of Dragonstone and point out the constellations. Of when he and his brides did the same. Old gods… Aegerax, Arrax… Raised among the Seven, Rhaegar nevertheless was drawn to the gods of his ancestors and his bride. Let me return to my children… to see my newborn son. Jon, he deserved to know his father. To know nothing but peace.

"It will come to pass, my dear Rhaegar." Blinking, Rhaegar could have sworn that twisting spiral of sweet-smelling, bright gold smoke began to circle around him. Exactly as seen in his vision… "Remember your fire… remember your blood." The voice was sweet and kind, bringing to mind the beautiful maiden he remembered. "Embrace your heritage, and you will recover the greatness of your ancestors."

"Who are you?" Rhaegar asked the spirit - seeing a dragon head at the front of it. "Please tell me."

An airy laugh. "You will know soon enough, my champion - just do not reject your blood. Remember who you are." And as suddenly as it came, the spirit vanished, leaving nothing remaining of her in the darkness.

Nothing but a glowing golden fire, tongues reaching up for the sky and dancing rhythmically.

Rhaegar stared at it, hand absentmindedly running along the length of Blackfyre… over the rune just carved into its blade. Remember who you are…

A/N: Rhaegar Targaryen... the champion of the Valyrians. Man, that's badass even though we do not know who made him said champion yet.

The moment between him and Ned was what we deserved.

On Tywin, Melisandre is proving a more devoted servant to Rhaegar than she was to Stannis. The old lion's support could be... vital.

Jon is so cute as a babe, isn't he? Beloved by all and oblivious to all the warfare around him. Just brings so much love to his family just as it should have been.

Rhaella's falling more and more for Jaime.

35 reviews and I'll post the next chapter Wednesday. The Battle of the Bells, Rhaegar v. Robert Part II!