A/N: Exciting news, my friends! Two new projects of mine are close to fruition: my Maegor the Cruel story called Dragonshield and a fluffy/smutty comedy short I plan to publish as a counterweight to the second anniversary of "The Bells," aka the Fall. Further details will come, but tell me what you think in the comments :)
Some people commented expressing their view that Elia is being "sidelined" because Baelon replaces Egg as crown prince. You could not be more wrong and misinformed. Just read the story and you'll see.
Be sure to check out my other in progress stories: Heart of the Blessed, Last Hope for Westeros, A Targaryen Dynasty, and Howl of the Dragonwolves.
Enjoy.
Chapter 69: Great Council
Doing her best to stifle the good-natured giggle on her lips at the sight, Elia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of the nursery. "He's certainly a hungry little dragon," she ended up saying, smile wide.
While she winced softly as her babe tugged at her nipples, Lyanna nevertheless chuckled. "A big appetite, just like his father." Her dress was pulled down, allowing Jon to breastfeed comfortably from his perch nestled in her arms.
"In more ways than one."
It took a moment to get the jape. "Oh, shut it." Lyanna stroked her babe's head as Elia chortled. "By that level of deduction, Jon takes after you in that regard." She smirked as Elia's laughter ceased.
Eyes narrowing, the Dornish Queen rolled her eyes. "Well-played, your Grace. Well-played indeed." A whimper caught her attention, Elia looking at the other crib in the room. Inside was little Dany, arms reaching up and her toothless lips smacking. "Your mother already fed you, goodsister." At that Dany seemed to pout. Oh, you'll be such a heartbreaker. Much as Jon would be.
Finally sated, Jon detached from the nipple. Smacking his lips with a self-satisfied grunt. "Oh, you are just like your father," Lyanna cooed, as if it were the most wonderful of complements. She made to rise, but was conscious of her dress. "Elia, please help me with my dress."
"Why? I like you like this." She leered appreciatively.
"Be serious. The Tullys are to arrive at any moment and I wish not to be part-nude when I receive them."
"We could always let Rhaegar handle it while we… have some fun."
Lyanna shook her head. "Such a lecher." They both smiled at each other as Elia acquiesced, walking behind to fasten the straps and ties of her sapphire blue gown. Fingers wonderful on her bare skin, for a moment Lya did wonder if they should just head back to their chambers. Gods, how did I ever pull away from this goddess? "I can't believe this is happening… the Great Council."
A sigh left Elia's lips. "Aye, it doesn't seem real."
"This was Egg's birthright, and many will likely tell him that to create another Dance."
"I told you, Lya. We won't let it happen." Ties finished, Elia reached down and scooped Jon in her arms. "Egg's gonna love his brother just as all of us do." Cooing him, Elia drank in his giggles and nuzzled his nose with hers. Jon loved the attention and flailed his arms, giggling. "And Jon will love Egg."
"And his newest sibling." Rising, Lyanna reached out and cupped Elia's still flat stomach, awe on her face. "Won't be the only one to love him or her."
Still rocking Jon, Elia let out a breath. Almost trembling at the feel of Lya's warm hands on her stomach even through the dress. "I know… another little dragon, something I never thought I'd speak of my own womb, only yours."
"There will be plenty of mine if I have anything to say about it," Lya replied. "Are you worried, about your health?" Egg's pregnancy nearly killed her - she hadn't been there, but it still made Lyanna's heart break just thinking about it.
Elia's eyes fluttered open. "No, I'm not." A gentle kiss pressed on Jon's cheek before she set him back into the crib. "She said she would reward me, for saving Jon." The Queen walked into the waiting embrace of her northern love, savoring the piney scent and powerful hold. "I asked for none to save our son, but apparently this is the providence of the divine."
Lyanna kissed her forehead. "The gods are good." There really were no words on how wonderful their life was in spite of everything. "I love you."
"I love you too." Pulling back, it wasn't long before they leaned into each other again. Lips melding against the other's.
"You know, it's not polite to evesdrop, your Grace," Arthur whispered.
Ear pressed against the door to the nursery, Rhaegar rolled his eyes - though the smile threatening to rip his face apart never fell. "Just let me enjoy this moment," he whispered back.
"Elia still doesn't know you know?"
"She does not." It had been rather sudden, the discovery of a new royal pregnancy. The way all three of them were going at it made this almost inevitable, but none of them expected it was Elia to fall pregnant. Pycelle had declared her barren once Egg was born, and while his incompetence was a reasonable conclusion, none of the royals believed it. Elia wished it a surprise, but Lyanna told Rhaegar wishing to surprise their wife. Oh, did he plan for it. Smile widening, he listened further as Elia spoke once more.
"I think I'll enjoy the Red Keep full with children. It's been cold with sorrow and death for so long."
"With our children, young Dany, and the babe's in your and Rhaella's womb, quite the wondrous occurrence."
Rhaegar's smile immediately changed into a confused frown. Babe in Rhaella's womb…? "A half-dragon, half-lion… good thing for us we needn't not worry about our husband with Cersei Lannister to see what sort of mix that would be." Both shared a merry laugh… humor not shared with the King.
Pulling back, Rhaegar walked away from the door, hand running through his hair. "Your Grace…" Arthur asked, concerned.
Half-dragon… half-lion…. Jaime Lannister… How he was always so close to his mother - Rhaegar began to piece the puzzle together. Seven fucking hells. "Did you know?" he asked Arthur.
"What?"
"Did you know of my mother and Ser Jaime…" Arthur didn't respond immediately, but grew slightly pale - enough for Rhaegar to divulge the truth. "That disgusting traitor." Eyes darkened, he stormed down the hallway before Arthur could say anything.
Oh, this won't end well. Without delay, the Sword of the Morning raced back for the nursery.
Veins pounding in his head, Rhaegar paid little attention to his surroundings as he searched for his mother. Her chambers were empty, as was Lya's library. What has Ser Jaime done to her? If his mother was with child, then they had to have coupled after Daenerys was born. After Aerys' death, during all the insanity with the plague. I'll gut him for taking advantage of her. Each minute that passed only welled more rage within him.
"Your Grace," bowed Ser Arys Oakheart, head bobbing down.
Seeing the Kingsguard on watch duty, he immediately sidled up to him. "Where is the Queen Mother?"
Ser Arys blinked. "Ser Jaime said he was escorting her to the gardens for some fresh air…" He didn't finish as Rhaegar stormed off… knowing exactly where they were.
And he found them, in the gazebo in the far corner of the gardens… one of the most private places in the keep and where his mother would oft go to escape his father's worst moments. Pushing through the growth of palm fronds that masked it from sight, Rhaegar stopped in his tracks. Eyes blazing as he witnessed Rhaella being drawn in a passionate liplock with Ser Jaime.
Bad timing all around, unfortunately for the Lion of Lannister.
Jaime first noticed that he and his love weren't alone. A quick look to his right found his King right at the entrance, and it drove him back, eyes widening. "Your Grace."
It was sudden, but fear churned in Rhaella's gut. "My son…" She felt a sheen of sweat begin to form on her forehead. They had been caught unprepared, a situation she dreaded. "I didn't want you to know this way…" They had intended to go to his solar and breach the news with the Queens present, but Rhaella had just wanted a quiet moment with her love in her favorite place… And there was her son looking murderous. Shit… shit… shit…
Eyes narrowing and shoulders tense, Rhaegar slowly approached the now standing kingsguard… driving him back. "I thought it must have been a mistake. My loyal guard having taken advantage of my own mother during her most stressful time, but it was true." Out of its scabbard came Blackfyre, the smoky blade rippling in the sun.
Hands up, Jaime felt his back collide with a column. "Your Grace…" If it had been anyone else, he'd have drawn Brightroar, but this was his King. "It's not like that…"
Rhaegar cut him off by pressing the blade to his throat. "Tell me why you deserve mercy, and I shall merely make you take the Black." Part of him hoped Jaime wouldn't - just one push forward would slice open the traitor's neck…
Slap!
Stumbling back, Rhaegar felt his anger evaporate into utter confusion as Rhaella - herself blazing dragonfire - inserted herself between him and Jaime. "That's quite enough. You're acting like a child." She breathed deeply, trying to calm down - wishing she had her dragons to steady her blood. "Sheath that sword before you hurt someone."
"But muna…"
"Don't 'But muna,' me. Do it." Her tension eased as he did what he was told. "Jaime did not take advantage of me, my son."
"What do you call seducing someone when they are in a vulnerable state of mind?" Rhaegar asked, glaring at the Kingsguard. "Leaving her with child in the process."
Rhaella took his hands in hers. "There was no seduction. I fell in love with him."
His eyes widened. "What…?" Rhaegar couldn't comprehend it.
At that moment the Queens hurried into the clearing, followed by Ser Arthur. Taking in the scene, Lyanna groaned. "He did something foolish, didn't he?"
"Held Blackfyre to my love's throat." Hearing those words from his mother only muddled Rhaegar's world more.
Elia shook her head. "Rhaegar, really? You impulsive idiot… your mother and Ser Jaime have been lovers for moons now."
"For moons?! And you just tell me this now?"
"Your mother wanted privacy and she deserved such. You do not control her." Lyanna jabbed her finger into his chest. "Let her have some happiness."
"And she's content with bearing the bastard of someone half her age? Will he even care for the babe?"
Clearing his throat, Jaime spoke up. "I would not abandon my child, even if he or she doesn't share my name. I am not a reprobate…"
"You don't want to know what I think you are…"
"Enough!" Rhaella wasn't having it. "This babe is your sister, Rhaegar, and I love his or her father. I'm sorry you had to find out like this and believe that it was not my intention, but you will accept it - do you understand me, Rhaegar Targaryen." While there was some motherly scolding there, anyone who witnessed it could see a dragon standoff brewing.
It was Rhaegar that blinked first. Grumbling something unintelligible, he stormed off. "Rhaegar!" Lyanna called out. "We'll talk to him." The Queens offered their goodmother a small smile before rushing after their husband.
Deflating, Jaime collapsed onto the bench. "Well… that could have gone better." Rhaella nodded in agreement, collapsing next to him.
One could only hope the King was professional enough not to screw up the Great Council over this spat.
The wheelhouse rolled to a stop just before the steps leading to the throne room and Maegor's Holdfast. Dismounting evenly from his horse with expert fluidity, Lord Garlan Tyrell felt an overall familiarity with the place. He had left many moons before as a squire, and now he returned a Lord. It took the death of my brother and father to get here. Nothing he ever would have wished for, but momentous nonetheless.
Bannermen in full plate bowing as he walked by, he waved away the footman to open the wheelhouse door personally. "Ugh, that took far enough." Olenna gripped her cane as she took Garlan's proffered hand. "That stench made me wish for slit wrists."
"It always smells that way, grandmother," Garlan remarked with a smirk. As her titular better, he needn't censor himself around her.
Didn't mean she'd like it. "Shut up." Shuddering after a sniff, Olenna picked herself up next to the massive twin guards she always carried around. "Least the holdfast has burning incense to mask the smell."
Ignoring her further complaints, Garlan reached out his hand for the other occupant to take. "Thank you, husband." Lady Melissa Tyrell was the opposite of Olenna, insisting on the pomp and airs of formality when the situation called for it. She leaned on his arm to exit the wheelhouse with poise… as much poise as possible considering the ever-increasing swell of her stomach.
Garlan kissed her cheek, hand on his unborn heir. Young as he was, he was also a dutiful lord - mindful of what responsibilities his grandmother would whack him over the head with a cane if he failed to deliver.
Still irritated, Olenna couldn't help but nod at her grandson. Didn't get his father's stupidity, thank the gods. "Well, I'm not wasting another minute of my life waiting around here like a git. Come on. Garlan acceded with a "yes grandmother," whispering something in Melissa's ear that made her smile. In that he was just like his father. A born charmer.
Custom for highborn visitors was for the host to greet them in their great hall. For the Red Keep, the fearsome visage of the Iron Throne loomed large in its own great hall. Even from the entrance a hundred yards away, to the Tyrells it never ceased to awe them - the same fires that burned their former Gardener overlords forged the throne from the swords of the conquered. But to Garlan's observation, they weren't alone. "Lord Stark."
The family of the Warden of the North waited with their own retinue before the throne. Sensing the voice of the newcomer, Ned Stark turned and walked to where Garlan, Melissa, and Olenna stood. "Lord Tyrell, I am relieved to see another ally of his Grace arriving safely here."
"And miss a chance to see the fruits of my gift in the flesh, not in this lifetime," Olenna replied, kissing Ned on each cheek.
"Lady Olenna, pithy as always. You would be much loved in the North."
"Cold bothers me, but otherwise quite the compliment from you, Lord Stark."
Ned chuckled. "Melissa Blackwood, you are radiant," he greeted the much older wife of the teenaged Lord. "A radiance my dear wife still holds thanks to our lovely daughter." Behind, Lady Catelyn walked up, a wrapped up white bundle nestled in her hands. "I believe you already know Catelyn, and this is the wee Lady Sansa, heir to Winterfell."
Melissa, who had been Lady in Waiting to Lady Tully during her children's youth, kissed Catelyn on the cheek with familiarity before looking at Sansa. "She has her father's grey eyes but the red coloring of your House… a combination that will break the hearts of many men."
"Only the best of Lords and knights to court my child." Olenna noted the addition of 'knights.' The North didn't bother with knighthood, so that seemed to exclude a northern suitor. Oh Rickard, I fucking told you…
"Pardon for asking, but isn't there supposed to be a Stark in Winterfell?"
"So goes the tradition, Lady Tyrell, but I felt we'd all be needed here. My kin Lord Karstark is watching over our keep, which is auspicious enough for the young pup to meet her cousins."
Olenna snickered. "Where there's a will, there's a loophole. Even for the honorable Ned Stark." She seemed to approve greatly of the sentiment… only for the mood to darken slightly as the doors opened again and new footsteps echoed across the tiled floor. "And speaking of honor - or the lack of it…" She turned. "Lord Tywin. It is quite strange seeing you here without the King humiliating you at every waking moment."
From anyone else's mouth, such would be scandalous, but Tywin was a veteran of court politics. Olenna's bluntness was a tactic to push others into revealing themselves, so he simply scowled. "I am grateful for his Grace's beneficent reign. His success so far endears me to the fact that his rule will be a prosperous one."
Well played, Tywin. Well played.
"Lord Tywin," Ned said, approaching and extending a hand to shake. As wardens, they were equals in spite of their ages. The Lord of Casterly Rock gave Ned a haughty look, but took the hand. Each had a firm grip. "I trust your family is well." Gods, asking about his one love with his wife present was the height of dishonor, but he needed to know.
Tywin raised an eyebrow. Still pining, Stark? Good. "They are well, even Tyrion unfortunately enough."
"You only brought your brothers Gerion and… Kevan?" Piped up Garlan, unaware of the secret history Houses Stark and Lannister shared.
"Aye. Genna won't leave her children, nor will Tygett - his wife is with child. Cersei… she will stay in Casterly Rock until I find a suitable husband for her." He did rather enjoy Ned's eyes dim.
"Only the best for you, Tywin," Olenna snorted.
"Naturally." He eyed the quiet Lady Catelyn, fussing over Sansa. "Your babe, Lord Stark? A male heir?"
Ned shook his head, allowing Sansa to improve his mood - she was his joy these days. "A girl, beautiful and healthy. She is my heir."
Perfect. "Indeed." He wouldn't say more. He wouldn't tip off his golden hand till it was time - regardless of how his prospective goodson would suffer. Such things mattered not. "I trust Lady Catelyn is a good mother and Lady."
"A good mother, aye. Very loving." Even young Garlan wasn't lost on Ned's omission.
You're lucky your sister married the King. Eddard Stark was too honorable to win the game of thrones. You lose, you die.
Suddenly, the heralds trumpeted from beside the throne. "Her Grace, Queen Elia Targaryen." Entering from the side, Queen Elia sported a modest Dornish style of dress - the burnt orange of House Martell in the collar and sleeves seeming to arise out of Targaryen black at the hem line. Visually striking and accentuating her beauty.
As the old saying went, if House Targaryen lacked beautiful women to marry, the Kings and Princes obtained those that matched such beauty. King Rhaegar struck gold - twice in fact.
Instead of taking a seat on the throne, Elia approached her goodbrother and hugged him warmly. "Ned. It is wonderful to see you again."
"Likewise, Elia. Quite likewise."
She kissed his cheek and turned to Catelyn. "Lady Stark."
Catelyn bowed, hiding her distaste for the still daring cut of the dress. "Your Grace."
Elia's eyes lit up. "This must be dear Sansa. May I hold her?" One couldn't refuse the Queen, who scooped up the babe. "You look just like your other aunt, little pup. Same gorgeous eyes… many will seek her hand."
"So I've been told." Catelyn smiled brittlely, waiting for Elia's cooing to cease before taking her babe back.
This time, Elia addressed the whole of them. "Thank you for heeding our summons, my Lords. You will be housed in the holdfast until the full complement of the council is reached. His Grace, her Grace, and I thank you for your arrival." Garlan and Ned each smiled, while Tywin nodded - expression aloof. Elia assessed the totals… Ned would definitely vote with their recommendation, as would Garlan if Olenna agreed. Tywin was a different story. There was no making guesses with him.
Gods be with us.
"Lord Tywin."
Fighting not to shiver in the draft that blew through the ruined halls of the Dragonpit, Tywin Lannister watched the familiar face of his younger years stride towards him. "My Queen… or should I rather say Lady Hand?"
Rhaella was a vision… she had always been, owning the graceful, silver beauty of Old Valyria. But now, there was a fire in her eyes. Unlike Aerys' almost manic fire, instead that of power and strength accentuated by the red and black dress - her house's colors.
And the dragon resting on her shoulder. "Many thanks for meeting me in private prior to the start of the council."
"I can't very well turn down the invitation of the Hand." While deep inside - without guard - the dragonpit, a partially collapsed ceiling let in the noonday sun. "Or that of your Grace's companion."
The gold-white dragon eyed Tywin curiously, sniffing out similar blood to the one her mother was so fond of. Instead, she curled against Rhaella's shoulder. "The kingsguard did not wish me to be unguarded. This was our compromise."
"Of course." He eyed her carefully. "You wish to influence my support for the council?"
Rhaella shook her head. "While I do hope that you shall see reason for your decision today," how Tywin voted would bring the entire Westerlands with them. "Such is not why I asked you here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Instead of replying, Rhaella leaned against the wall - a wistful look passing on her face. "Sometimes I still think that I should turn a corner and see Joanna's smiling face." Tywin's eyes glazed over, a lump developing in his throat. Joanna… the only woman he had ever loved. Some even saying the only person. Just thinking of her brought him to grief. "I know you wished for your son to not don the white, but as your once friend, I appreciated it greatly. Having a little piece of Joanna back."
Tywin took a deep breath. "I am glad that at least one aspect of that matter was beneficent."
What Rhaella spoke of next was the last eventuality he expected. "Your son is my lover." His eyes widened in spite of himself. "And I am carrying his child… your grandchild."
Not a few whispers among the many dozens of delegates to the Great Council of 284 AC wondered why it was held in the Dragonpit. Why not the great hall of the Red Keep, where the last two great councils had been held? When the King entered they soon understood why - he sat at the hastily assembled throne at the head of the wide circle, elevated higher than the others. While the Queens and Hand of the King Rhaella Targaryen sat beside him, in front rested the growing form of Aegarax. The smaller crimson dragon rested atop the green dragon's back, while Jaimexes slept in Rhaella's lap.
The Sunrise Dragon made his statement to the Realm. With the return of the dragons came the return of Targaryen power, emphasized by the dragonpit. A tomb had now birthed back into glory.
"Greetings, my Lords, shall we begin?"
Seated across from the King were House Stark and the Northern delegation, the remaining delegations spread out as if spokes of a wheel. Garlan Tyrell led the Reach, Hoster Tully the Riverlands, and Elbert Arryn of the Vale. Leading the Westerlands was Tywin, and he was slightly surprised that Doran Martell actually showed up rather than sending Oberyn, who was also present. The Baratheon brothers also showed up, Stannis firm in spite of his youth while Robert kept sneaking moony glances at Queen Lyanna. Balon Greyjoy was absent, sending his brother Euron in his stead… a man to worry about at a later time.
At the moment, Tywin had greater issues… namely the grandchild of his that was growing in the womb of the Queen. Damn you Jaime… first your sister has a Snow and now this. Hopefully, this could end in his favor, but he needed to think and time was of the essence.
But the swirling thoughts of his mind only was sent into a typhoon by what the King said - outlining the issue before the council. Of Prince Aegon's continued illness and his chances of survival given titles. Both Maester Aemon and Grand Maester Qyburn offered their assessments, ending with Rhaegar outlining that he hoped for an orderly transition of the line of succession from Aegon to Prince Baelon for the best wishes of both his family and the realm.
Prince Baelon… the cousin of my grandson and other grandchild… Tywin's musings stopped, the skeleton of a plan forming in his head.
Not a moment after Rhaegar ceased speaking did Lord Franklyn Fowler rise in his seat. "You dare this?! You dare insult us with this perfidy!" Many on the Dornish delegation banged their hands upon the table in support, while Doran Martell stayed silent. "This is an affront to all Dorne!"
"A greater insult would be if we condemned Prince Aegon to death," Lyanna replied, eyes narrowing.
Lord Fowler, one of the richest Lords in Dorne, sneered at the Queen. "You would enjoy such, your Grace. Your brat would be King while we get nothing."
"Take that back," demanded Greatjon Umber, slamming his fist. "That's the she-wolf's boy you speak of."
"I deign not speak to savages."
Greatjon rose, hand going to the greatsword at his hip. "Sit down and shut up before I make you."
"Enough!" Rhaegar silenced all, a shriek from Aegarax only adding to the effect. "We will have order here."
"Your Grace… forgive my bannerman for his rudeness." Doran's glare at Fowler had the man sitting with a huff - Greatjon on the other hand sat with satisfaction in his eyes. "But I believe you have already made your choice. This entire assemblage is but wasted effort."
"Something as important as the royal succession is in need of ratification by the Great Council, Prince Doran," Rhaella spoke up. "I should imagine your nephew's health is high on your list of concerns."
"Such is a good point, brother…" Oberyn was silenced by a raised hand.
"If you truly care about him," Doran said, "Why not let Rhaenys inherit?"
A poison pill if there ever was one, given the precedent set by the Dance of Dragons and both Great Councils prior - if not for the precarious situation House Targaryen found itself in, such may have been an option. But not now. Luckily for Rhaegar, it was the Most Devout that objected. "Succession is the right of men, not weak women," one hissed, a young and vibrant member of the Faith. Ignoring the glares of the royal females, he went on. "And it is the right of the eldest child. The child of the true marriage."
There was silence. "Archsepton Mern, watch yourself." High Septon Meribald was usually jovial, but could have a firmness when needed. "His Grace's marriage to Lady Lyanna is ordained by the Seven in his trial by seven. We cannot deny their will." It was clear Meribald was the minority of his own council.
Arguments dragged on and on for hours, various servants bringing in refreshments while the Lords traded compromise after compromise in the middle of invectives leveled at each other over the pettiest of slights. Dragons screeched, religious tirades were launched, Lords Bracken and Blackwood nearly came to blows, Lord Umber literally knocked out a Dornish delegate, and Queen Lyanna threatened to castrate disrespectful knights on more than one occasion.
And through this Tywin thought, and thought, and thought. Charting everything together, shifting from Ned Stark to Rhaella Targaryen and back to Ned Stark. He didn't see Jaime there, while the King and his mother seemed overly formal with each other. They disagree about my son being her lover. Perhaps his direct connection with House Targaryen wouldn't be so firm as first thought. That brought in Ned Stark, who was effectively the brother of the King. An heir to Winterfell with higher claim than his daughter - even as a legitimized bastard - was too tempting… but only if House Stark had blood connections with the King.
Everything was forged by blood, either spilling it or sharing it.
Eventually, the King had enough. Discussions were over - time for a vote. Only two choices: retain Prince Aegon, ultimately rejecting Rhaegar's entire line since the Prince would die if kept to that level of stress, or install Prince Baelon as the Crown Prince.
As with the previous great councils, the Crown abstained from any vote - though Tywin assumed that if the council refused to ratify the decision Rhaegar would go for it anyway. Damaging his legitimacy in the process, unfortunately for him. A majority of the delegates would vote in favor or opposed, but the Lord Paramount would hold sway. Without one, the Crownlands went first, votes largely in favor of ratification. Houses such as Bell, Thorne, Tully, and Seaworth owed the Crown everything and voted accordingly.
The Reach was next, and Tywin was mildly surprised. Among them, the Most Devout defied their High Septon and voted no, followed by representatives of the Citadel. The Lords were divided, those closer to House Tyrell voting aye with Garlan while the Hightowers and their bannermen went differently. All not in accord between grandfather and grandson?
Stannis Baratheon, after heated whispers with his brother - Robert still staring lecherously at Lyanna like a horny youth - stood. "At the decree of my Leige Lord, House Baratheon refuses to cast a vote in this motion." Coward. Aside from a few such as the Dondarrions, their bannermen followed Robert's command.
Lord Elbert and the Vale fared better for the Crown. The majority of the Lords voted for Baelon, while some of the more devout houses stood with the Starry Sept. A similar dynamic happened in the Riverlands, only reversed - Hoster, in spite of the relation by marriage, sided with the Faith while some of the major bannermen sided with Prince Baelon. House Blackwood and the Mootons weren't surprising, while Walder Frey was. What was the old man's angle?
The North held no surprises, nor did Dorne. Every single Northern Lord present sided with Baelon while Prince Oberyn led Houses Dayne, Blackmont, and Uller to buck Prince Doran's position. "I don't care what you greenlanders do with your crowns, but I admire the stones of the King to bring this before us cunts." Euron Greyjoy voted for Baelon, the other Ironborn joining him.
Ultimately, now it was all on Tywin. "My Lord," Rhaella… the mother of his grandchild… spoke. "As Warden of the West, you may cast the first vote of your Kingdom." The rest were formalities. If Tywin told them to jump off Casterly Rock, they'd do so.
But how to vote?
In the end, he made his decision quickly - the minutes he allowed passed were to unsettle the rest. All the pieces seemed in place. A grandson with Stark blood, another grandchild with the name of the dragon. My children are useful to me for once in their lives. Young Aegon would be connected to him by blood, but young Baelon would have double the connection if Crown Prince. Tywin would hold far more leverage, and the prospect of denying Doran Martell even a potential foothold was too tempting not to trigger.
"I vote for Prince Baelon. Prince Aegon should serve the realm more as a healthy Prince than as a sickly King." Quickly after, the westerlords cast their own ballots for Baelon.
It was decided. Sixty-five percent of the Council had ratified Rhaegar's decision, while the remainder were opposed or abstained.
Prince Baelon was now Crown Prince Baelon, decreed by the King and validated by the Great Council.
Shooting out of his seat, Lord Fowler kicked his chair away. "You will rue this!" Face red, he stormed off. No other Dornish lords followed him, though their expressions echoed his sentiments. Elia was expressionless, but inside the rejection of her countrymen hurt - they would rather see Egg dead than allow the blood of the direwolf to sit on the throne in his stead. A very poor omen.
As the majority of the Lords broke off in smaller groups to discuss matters together, Tywin walked towards the royal family. He could see Lord Tully and Lord Hightower huddled with the Most Devout, while Elbert and Ned Stark were engaged in an animated conversation with Queen Lyanna - Queen Elia soon joined them, Oberyn Martell in tow. "Thank you for your support, Lord Tywin." The King reached out his hand, which Tywin took. "Though I presume you haven't done this out of the goodness of your heart."
"You were always smarter than your father," Tywin replied.
"Just speak of it, Lord Tywin," Rhaella cut in, crossing her arms just underneath the pin of the Hand - a pin he himself once wore.
There was so much he could demand… but the old lion demurred. "My brother is still aimless after his expedition was a success." Shocking, I know. "Your father rejected Kevan as Master-at-Arms. It would honor the Westerlands if you rectified his mistake and granted it to Gerion."
Rhaegar furrowed his brows. "I shall think on it, my Lord." With that he stalked off to his brides.
Raising an eyebrow, Rhaella looked him down. "What are you playing at, Tywin?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but stayed silent. "Be careful. A lion cannot outrun dragonfire."
"Duly noted."
Bidding farewell to the Hand, Tywin suddenly found himself face to face with a burly, dark-skinned face. That of Aero Hoteh, the personal guard of Prince Doran. "Lord Tywin," the aforementioned Prince walked gingerly towards Tywin, movements slow but words sharp and biting. "You did what you had to do. Though I know not your reasons, I trust you had good ones."
"I need not explain myself to you, Prince Doran," Tywin replied, letting Gregor Clegane stand behind him. His own form of intimidation.
"I suppose you don't." Doran looked him up and down. "You are as crafty as your reputation states."
"You are far underestimated by your reputation," was the reply.
Doran offered a tiny smile. "Good luck, Lord Tywin. Those that fall may rise again, while those who fall for a second time usually meet the most grievous of ends." Their eyes continued to stare hardly at each other before both withdrew to their own corners. Battle lines drawn.
The clouds had washed over Blackwater Bay, none that would give rain but enough to block out the sun and usher in a steady breeze. Cuddling the fussy and wriggling princess in her arms, Hand of the King Rhaella Targaryen pointed to the sky. "See that, Dany?" Dany's eyes focused skyward just as a gust bracketed the both of them. "Feel the wind, that's our birthright. Dragonriders, you and I are. We will rule the skies, free from the control of man or gods."
Dany waved her hands, excited by the prospect.
Without delay, Rhaella nuzzled Dany's nose with hers. "You're the perfect little dragon princess, hatchling." Just like your sibling… Harmed and beaten down by too many unfit to dare challenge a dragon, Rhaella was determined not to let any of her family not take up the opportunity the return of the dragons gave them. Answering not to man nor god… never again will we do so.
"Your Grace." Rhaella looked over to see the warmly dressed Eddard Stark walk to where she waited by the railing. "Seems we had the same idea." Nestled against his furs was the redheaded Sansa Stark, grey eyes blinking out the bracketing wind. The cold she was used to… the salty spray, not so much.
"Great minds think alike, Lord Stark." They stood in a silence for the briefest of moments. "Much of Westeros is now angled against your family."
"We northmen have faced that before and always survived." He snorted, rocking Sansa. "I didn't expect Tywin Lannister to side with Jon's claim. Did you say anything to him?"
"I did, reminding him of what bound our families together."
"After all that happened when the capitol fell, I can see why you and Ser Jaime were able to fall for each other." What is it about Lannisters? Even now, Cersei held his heart. "But I suspect your son doesn't feel the same way."
Rhaella shook her head. "Barely said a word to me since he found out."
Gurgling something incomprehensible to those older than a nameday, Dany caused Sansa to giggle with her - both of them waving their arms in their parents' holds. "Seems these two are getting along," Ned chuckled.
"Haven't seen Daenerys take so quickly to one other than her nephew." Rhaella rubbed her little hatchling's back, kissing the crown of her head. "Perhaps I should ask Lady Stark for permission to plan young Sansa to be her Lady in Waiting."
"Oh, Cat would faint from such an honor bestowed upon our daughter." Such as it was with Catelyn, already writing major houses in the south to foster Sansa - aside from House Manderly, no northern house was sent a raven in acquiring of a fostering, though Ned didn't think Catelyn was considering White Harbor on par with such as Hightower or Arryn. "Normally only Queens or prospective Queens are afforded such from that of a Lord Paramount's station," Ned inquired, brow raised. "Expecting for young Daenerys to marry the new Crown Prince?"
Rhaella shrugged. "She and Baelon are closer than anyone I've seen even from the cradle. It's a fair assumption."
Ned snorted. "Sometimes I have to remind myself that I have Targaryens in my family now." That caused Rhaella to laugh.
"There you are, Ned… I was hoping not to be alone out here…" Both turned over their shoulders to find Rhaegar standing there in a cloak and a loose gambeson, the bundled form of Crown Prince Baelon Targaryen tucked in his arms. "Greetings, muna."
The Dowager Queen pursed her lips. "Rhaegar." The frostiness she had informed the Warden of the North of was on full display at the moment. "Bringing my grandson for air?"
He nodded. "The swaying of the ship was unsettling him, so he needed a breeze. I didn't realize you would be here." Formerly quiet, at their violet eyes locking Jon immediately reached out for Dany and her for him, negating any chance they could avoid each other any longer. "I didn't realize you would be here." Walking in between Rhaella and Ned, he eyed his goodbrother. "Had the same idea, no?"
"Aye. Catelyn… the ship unsettles her too. Was that why you are on babe duty?"
Rhaegar frowned. "Aegon needed his munas." There was an uncomfortable, sorrowful silence. "He used to be so lively, and now he can barely walk. I don't think I've seen him smile since before all of this." By the grace of the gods, Jon didn't suffer from such a problem. He kept trying to swat at Dany's hand, the silver-haired Princess pulling it away from him and giggling wetly.
Ned wore a similar frown. "Children are resilient, brother. He has the love of his family, and that can work wonders more than any treatment or poultice a maester could cook up."
Nodding, Rhaegar sighed. "Family… aye." Forced into the most uncomfortable of decisions for moons, Rhaegar hadn't been absent in observing his mother and her… lover for the first time. Never did he think of the Dowager Queen in such a light - that she would have a sexual life given his father was thrust by his madness into thinking brutality was the proper outlet for carnal gratification. But the more he watched them, saw the caring looks and gentle gestures exchanged between Jaime Lannister and his mother, the more he found himself slowly accepting it. She had never been happier, and could finally enjoy a pregnancy with a father she truly loved. "Muna…"
"Yes, my son?"
He cleared his throat. "You… you have my blessing." What rewarded him was the biggest smile he'd ever seen cross her lips. "But don't expect me to ever call him kepa." For some reason Ned found that the height of hilarious, almost keeling over as he laughed while Rhaella stifled a snicker.
None of them noticed how Jon - following Dany's gaze - shifted his attention to Sansa, swatting at her too. Unlike the teasing Princess, the young wolf leaned closer to her cousin, inviting the playful touches with a contented look on her infant face.
"Lya…" Elia giggled, pushing her bride's hands away. "Stop rubbing my skin… the babe isn't even a swell yet." She knew there was no stopping the she-wolf, and she loved every moment of it.
Pouting playfully, Lyanna merely kissed her cheek. "Forgive me, but I am excited… and our beautiful babe is the best salve for that exhausting Great Council."
Elia frowned. "Why did Tywin vote in Jon's favor? He holds no stake in the game."
"Cersei Lannister and my brother had some sort of love affair if I read the signs correctly. Perhaps he wishes to secure a marriage alliance between them."
"Honestly, I hope that happens." Elia sighed. "Poor Ned needs some happiness in his life not connected to his daughter. Sansa is adorable, but no person can be starved of intimacy." She eyed Lya lovingly. "I mean, I cannot exist deprived of the intimacy of one of my loves." That earned a sweet kiss, but the topic shifted once more to politics. "But he'll never give up Catelyn."
"He won't. Ned is much too honorable for that, even if it would mean sacrificing his happiness… and I suppose Tywin knows this, which makes his behavior all the odder."
"I should begin establishing birds in Casterly Rock… though there are far more worrisome areas for me to start…" She trailed off, suddenly reaching a large courtyard with her eyes widening.
The night in Dragonstone was cloudless, a full moon overlooking the beautiful island and illuminating all the torches couldn't touch. Combined with those very same torches, the completed water gardens of Aegon's Garden shone in a low light, flowing fountains and shiny flora reflecting the moonlight brilliantly. And in the middle was their husband, Rhaegar dressed in a loose tunic and red cloak of the dragonlords. With his hair down, gods, he looked scrumptious to the both of them. "Rhaegar…" Elia breathed.
"It is finished," he smiled. "Your home away from home."
Sighing happily, Elia twirled under the palm trees warmed by the volcanic springs. Soon landing into the hold of her husband, his embrace offered and waiting for her. "This is wonderful, Rhaegar. Thank you."
"Of course." He kissed her brow. "Where else would I celebrate the news our little miracle babe?"
"Celebrate…" Eyes widening for the barest moment, upon realization a blush came to her cheeks. "Oh…" She looked away, slightly embarrassed. "So you know."
Rhaegar gently guided Elia till their eyes met. "Aye, Lya told me."
She was lost in his violets. "I wanted to surprise you."
Without waiting a second after she finished talking, Rhaegar kissed her thoroughly. Making her lean against him, toes curling. Elia had melted by the time the kiss ended. "And Lya and I wanted to surprise you."
"Well you succeeded," she smiled. Sighing again, she let her head rest against Rhaegar's chest. "It almost feels like the day prior to now… when Pycelle informed me that my womb was beyond rescuing… and now…"
"Pycelle was a traitorous cunt," Lyanna said, trying to not let her rage at the dead man ruin the happy moment. "But it doesn't matter. The blessings of the gods are upon us."
Rhaegar leaned over to kiss Lya's lips, still hugging Elia close. "Much has happened to us, my loves. Some things that even now, I cannot comprehend."
For the still youthful Queen - having endured more than even one thrice her age could handle without breaking - she walked into the shared embrace of her loves. The tales of dragons and knights and Kings and magic that she read in her youth seemed to be the life she now lived. Married as the conquerors were, living in the shadow of the great beasts of Old Valyria, associating with the gods themselves as those of the First Men did during the Age of Heroes. Truth be told, the life prior was what truly scared her.
"I would never wish to go back," she murmured. "The world prior may have been simple and predictive, but the greatest horrors still abounded."
Elia sniffed her neck, taking in the piney scent. "Aye, the worst." All endured, the madness of their King that had taken so much from them… "The unknown blessings and duties of the gods are better."
"It won't be easy," Rhaegar said sadly. "I wish this blessed joy would last forever, but I fear this be merely the end of the beginning."
Twin grey eyes narrowed in determination. "Whomever survives our dragonfire, they shall meet the steel of our blades." Violets seemed to darken at her statement, arousal evident in Rhaegar for his warrior Queen. "I promise that upon our friends and enemies."
Laughing, Elia squeezed their sides. "While that is lovely, unfortunately I cannot swing a sword or a spear."
"One of us has to be the Lady of the Keep, watching over hearth and home." Lyanna managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds before a grin curled over her lips.
Elia rolled her eyes. "That is it, I shan't associate with you the rest of the night for that." She pulled away from Lyanna playfully, guiding Rhaegar to the middle of the courtyard underneath the lush vines. "I finally catch a glimpse of the northern barbarian those of my brother's court speak of."
"I would not go that far, my love. Northern wildling seems more appropriate." By the glare Rhaegar was given by his Stark bride, she would clearly be out for blood in the bedchamber. Lucky lucky me. "Would you like a dance, mother of my babes?"
A large smile formed on her lips. "That would be lovely - but there is no music."
He frowned. "You know that I am better than any common minstrel. Name the song you wish?" Rhaegar knew the answer before she said it.
Turned out he was right - Elia did not disappoint. "Jenny's Song." The same song Lyanna fell for him to. With the rebirth of her womb, perhaps now they could rebirth their entire marriage in the proper way. In love and devotion.
Rhaegar was more than happy to provide the voice, singing the same tunes that serenaded Lyanna many moons prior without even knowing it. He and Elia glided along the tiled ground, smiling enchantedly in the glow of her pregnancy and the miracle that made it so. One that was unable to exclude Lyanna from the joy, the next dance being of her and their King, then her and her Queen as well.
The three heads of the dragon, alone with only each other below the stars. Woe was any man or god that tried to sunder them.
Watching with the largest frown, he knew he would need to change his plans.
A/N: The political lines are being drawn.
Elia's womb is healed :)
Until next time, my friends.