Cerys is loyal to Ostara not because the younger girl could very well kill her without so much as a single thought of hesitation, but because Ostara has always been kind to her and has built a relationship built on mutual trust and respect for one another. Cerys is loyal to Ostara because Ostara is loyal to her. So when Melisandre strides into the was room, where servants are tending to the clothing items of their Lords and Ladies, Cerys hardly finds herself to be all that surprised.

Melisandre is the most cunning of their Lady's circle. Always plotting, always planning, always thinking two or three steps ahead of everyone else. Cerys isn't fool enough to think that she means anything more to the Red Woman than any other servant girl might, but she does know that Ostara is her friend and therefore Melisandre will not be so cruel as to put her in harms way intentionally. That is the kind of loyalty Ostara inspires, after all.

The slip in her hands is quickly folded and placed carefully in the braided basket at Cerys' feet to join the rest of her and Ostara's clothing. It is easy to get away with washing your clothes with your Lady's when said Lady insists that your clothes be made just as well as her own. It is also a well known fact among the servants that Ostara goes to Flea Bottom at least once a week to visit with the small folk and see to their care. Cerys moves to tuck flyaway hair- curled from the heat and her sweat- under the white strip of linen she'd tied around her head that morning while she looks at Melisandre.

"My Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Cerys asks.

Melisandre wouldn't visit her if there weren't some reason for it. Cerys is aware that she has been placed among the servants of the Red Keep to help inspire loyalty and devotion to Ostara, every evening she and Melisandre discuss the happenings of the day and how many of the servants are at least partially fond of their Lady, but Melisandre would never meet her here to speak of such things. Which means she's up to something, and she's using Cerys to achieve her own ends.

"Have you a moment, Cerys? I must speak to you of some... personal matters."

A slow nod.

"Of course, I just finished. Would it be possible to talk on the way to Lady Ostara's chambers?"

Cerys, for all her inexperience with the Game of Thrones, is not so clueless as to miss the way Melisandre's crimson robes shift around her ankles despite her being perfectly still, not does she miss the way Lynn's eyes go incredibly wide at something around the Red Woman's feet before she blinks hard and squints in confusion at the worn stone of the washroom floor. Definitely up to something. Cerys pretends not to notice anything amiss as she gathers her basket and bids the oldest servant in the room good day. It's unlikely they'll be seeing each other again until tomorrow. Once she's been dismissed Cerys allows Melisandre to slip her hand into the crook of Cerys' elbow so as to make it easier to establish their pace.

They leave the washroom with the eyes of several women following them.

"You wished to discuss something, Lady Melisandre?" Cerys keeps her voice low enough to give the appearance of trying to keep their conversation private.

"Yes," Melisandre casts a glance about before pulling Cerys into a deserted corridor off the one that is commonly used by the servants. "I wished to discuss the matter of Ostara's... interests."

"What of them?"

A quiet shuffling not far off has Melisandre smiling a bit. Cerys remains shrouded in false confusion.

"It has worked. She's done it." Melisandre says.

"Done it?" Cerys makes a show of frowning, of shifting her basket to her other hip, "How do you know?"

"I saw the little beast with my own eyes." Melisandre states, rocking her shoulders back proudly, like a mother discussing her child's achievements.

Cerys swallows hard. Dragons. Melisandre is speaking of Ostara's dragons. What is she playing at then? Does she want the servants to find out about them? It would make sense if her hope was to spark a rumor of returned magic and dragons born of Targaryen blood. Whispers travel faster among the servants and with something as terrifying and awe-inspiring as this the details may be embellished a bit but there would be no false accusations. Eventually, word would reach the Targaryens.

Is that Melisandre's intent? To force Rhaegar's hand?

None of Ostara's circle are over fond of Aerys. Daevyn claims that he'll end up mad, that the sickness in his blood will claim him as it claimed some of his ancestors. Personally, Cerys hasn't spent much time in the King's presence so she can't form much of an opinion on him but she does know that there's something about him that makes her skin crawl. Rhaegar however? She thinks that Rhaegar is a good man, obviously not a perfect man but a good one all the same. It is likely him that Melisandre is attempting to inform about newly born dragons. But the question is why? Cerys can't decide if it's to help Ostara and Rhaegar form a better bond or to cause a shift in the power dynamics of King's Landing.

Perhaps both.

"How many is that now? Three?" Cerys asks as she glances out the corner of her eye in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the servant listening to them.

For a moment she thinks it might be Lynn; sweet, mild mannered Lynn who has taken to Cerys' ramblings of Ostara's good nature with a reverence that makes the blonde vaguely uncomfortable. She often finds herself reminded that Ostara is rather odd for a noble, most of the lot don't care for servants and far fewer make friends of them. Ostara is, in a way, a fantasy brought to life, for what young girl living a servant's life doesn't wish to be friends with the young Ladies they serve?

"Four." Melisandre give her a smile that is really more a show of teeth than anything. "Can you believe it?"

"I can believe the amount of mending I'll have to do to ensure no one notices singe marks and rips." Cerys intones, voice airy and light.

With no way of knowing just how to handle this conversation, this small move in the Game, Cerys is doing her best; opting for light humor when appropriate and seriousness whenever else. It seems to please Melisandre for she reaches out to take Cerys' cheeks in her palms, smiling widely as she does. Cerys notes that she smells of burning apple wood and sweet smelling soaps, all things commonly afforded to the more prominent members of a Lord or Lady's house. Personally, she much prefers the bespelled blankets and the little trinkets Ostara gifts her with.

"I think she does a very good job teaching them. They're very well behaved... for a creature so dangerous." Melisandre breathes.

Cerys is beginning to wonder how much of this is an attempted at a political move and how much of it is Melisandre simply trying to air her devotion, fascination, and general awe of their Lady. If it's the latter Cerys thinks she'll be rather put out.

Ostara is awe-inspiring, Cerys already knows this.

"Have you discussed this with her then?" Cerys asks to which Melisandre chuckles.

"Oh, we've discussed many things, My Azor Ahai and I, but I was merely returning one of her tomes when I came across the newest birth... Would you like to meet it?"

There is an odd pounding in her head, a fluttering in her chest, and a twist in her stomach that makes Cerys want to tremble with excitement. Ostara has always promised to show her the dragons, to take her to Valyria where they stay, but due to her duties and Ostara's there's just never been a perfect time to follow Ostara through the wardrobe and she would never presume to go alone. Who knows what Ostara's dragons, her children in most senses of the word, would do to a stranger in their midst. Cerys knows that Ostara will keep her promise and take her to Valyria but... Melisandre has one of them with her, the youngest, and Cerys wishes to see it so badly that her bones ache.

"Is it safe?" Cerys manages to ask for the sake of Melisandre's plans.

Melisandre smirks at her as she leans down slightly to raise the hem of her skirt. It takes a moment for Cerys to process what she's seeing but soon enough she's lowering herself to the floor to make contact with the dragon curled around Melisandre's booted ankle.

"I tried hiding it in my sleeve but the talons were far too sharp for my flesh... I've no idea how Ostara manages it." Melisandre says but Cerys is only half listening.

Foolishly, the blonde reaches out a trembling hand to the dragon with what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. The dragon stares at her for a long moment, those large red eyes glaring into her soul long enough that Cerys begins to sweat out of fear. A dragon, no matter how young, is still a dangerous creature. As luck would have it Cerys doesn't end up getting her face burnt off her head. Instead, the dragon slides off of Melisandre's boot-covered leg, slinks across the floor, and climbs into Cerys' palm.

Melisandre is quick to pull away, quick to give the-servant-who-may-be-Lynn a clear view of the dragon in the blonde's grasp.

A started gasp, a muffled clap of flesh against flesh- like someone attempting to stifle their gasp with their hand, and neither Cerys nor Melisandre react to the noise. It would be best to control that which ends up circulating the Red Keep and they can only do that if the one spying on them continues to spy. Cerys rocks back to rest her rear on her heels.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes," Melisandre agrees, "but it is the youngest. Ostara and I have discussed taking the older ones to the sky."

Lies.

Ostara would have told her if she was thinking of taking any of her dragons flying. It's been a topic of pondering for several weeks now but Ostara hasn't decided on a good time to go about participating in her first flight with her dragons. But she says nothing of this to Melisandre as there are ears everywhere and Cerys doesn't want anything negative being said about Ostara or the rest of them. Hesitantly, Cerys rises to her feet and attempts to adjust her basket on her hip. How she hasn't dropped the damned thing is a mystery in and of itself.

"How is she hiding them?" Cerys wonders.

Is this even something she should be asking? Will it get Ostara into trouble? Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Cerys is not a politician and the best she is at manipulating people is getting them to listen to her ramble about Ostara's goodness so that their interest is peaked and Cerys can tell more stories until the person she's talking too is more inclined to like Ostara than not. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. She's messed everything up? The servants can never know about Valyria because if they did then somehow Aerys would find out about Valyria and he would without a doubt send an entire fleet to his ancestral home in order to gather the dragons.

Feeling nauseous Cerys forces herself to focus on Melisandre, who is smiling so softly that it almost appears sweet.

"She is Azor Ahai, Maiden of Magic, and Mother of Dragons... The extent of her abilities in unknown to even me."

Cerys swallows hard and, with nothing to say to the lie, looks back at the dragon in her palm.

There is a quick rustle of fabric and then a steady thump of feet several moments later. Their spy has likely seen their opportunity to run off and begin reciting everything they've seen and heard to the other servants. Soon, the entire castle will be full to bursting with whispers of magic and dragons and Ostara Baratheon doing what not even a Targaryen of pure blooded decent could do.

"What have we done?" Cerys demands, voice soft as she moves to usher the dragon back to Melisandre. "Will they hurt her?"

Ostara, if anything were to happen to Ostara because of her...

"No, sweet girl, they will not hurt our Lady." Melisandre tips her head back and her hair shines like freshly polished copper int he dim light. "They are going to worship her."

For some reason Cerys doesn't think that's much better.

~X~

"I'm tellin' you, Tarik, I saw it!" Lynn cries as she chases after her older brother.

Tarik merely glares at her, unwilling to entertain a young girl when the head cook is watching them both so keenly, but Lynn doesn't care. She knows what she saw, knows what she heard. Ostara Baratheon is of dragon blood. The proof of it being in the small winged creature that Lynn had seen resting in Cerys' hand.

"Enough Lynn, go back to the wash room." Tarik demands, eyes flashing as he gathers a few sacks of potatoes to take to his station for peeling.

Her brother has never struck her, has never harmed her, but he keeps them both fed by working at the Red Keep. If they were to loose their positions Lynn knows that she'd likely be unable to find work anywhere but in a brothel while Tarik would likely enlist in the army just to ensure he gets coin for them both. Being thrown from the Red Keep is not something either of them want but this? This is too important for Tarik not to listen.

"Tarik, yer not listenin'!" Lynn hisses as she follows her brother through the kitchen to his station, "There was a dragon! An actual livin' dragon!"

"A cat."

"It was not a fuckin' cat!"

Several of the servants around them have begun listening, their eyes still on their tasks but their attention of the bickering siblings. Lynn doesn't notice, or doesn't care, and continues rattling off everything she saw happen in that corridor.

"Well it wasn't a dragon." is her brother's terse reply.

"Yes it was! I heard that Red Woman call Ostara, um, um," Lynn taps her hands on a sack of potatoes, "some'in' foreign! Tarik! Believe me! I don't lie."

The older boy looks around, eyes wide and full of worry, before he grabs Lynn by the back of the dress to practically drag her out of the kitchen and into the corridor where it's a bit more private for them to talk. There are still people watching them though, because Tarik has never been so physical with Lynn before and it's likely caught more attention than Lynn's ramblings.

"Were are we going?" Lynn demands as she claws at her brother's arm.

"The wash room." He barks. "I'm not puttin' up with your stories today, Lynn."

Lynn.

Not Lynny-binny.

The young girl swallows hard, tears building in her eyes as she tries again, "Cerys was there too! She saw it! She held it! Apparently Ostara's hatched four!"

More people stop, more staring, and then whispers.

"It wasn't a dragon Lynn. It was a cat. You just misheard what they were saying."

"I was not!" Lynn screams, angry this time. "I saw with my own two eyes, Tarik! I can see better than you and I know what I saw! It was a dragon! Ostara Baratheon has dragons!"

She's making a scene and people are watching, older servants who understand the meaning and impact of Lynn's words more than Tarik is able to. As the older boy, a child still in the eyes of many, drags his sister back to the wash room the older servants turn to one another with wide eyes. They whisper among themselves, discuss the likelihood of such claims from Lynn and the impact those words would have on the Red Keep if they turned out to be true and none of the servants said anything about it. Of course, none of the Lords and Ladies tend to believe servants but there are ways of getting word where it needs to be.

It is a tricky thing; spreading word without being held accountable.

Lynn is young and her brother is not yet a man, while she could have misunderstood what she was hearing the older servants who have interacted with Ostara Baratheon in some way are likely to say that they noticed something strange about her. Dragons, the decide, are not the strangest thing they could have learned about the young Lady and so they take it for what it is and what it may be. It could be the imagination of a child or it could be the truth. If it is the latter... Well, it is their duty to make sure the people know.

And so the servants begin spreading the word in such a way that there is no way of knowing who told who about the dragons first.

Within several hours Lynn's story has been told to the undercooks, who tell the head cook, the cup bearer hears word of dragons before rushing off to do his job while a young maid makes her way to the laundry room where, Lynn is suspiciously absent, listening to the slightly older boy as he rushes to get out what he's heard before he takes a sharp left and disappears down a different corridor from the one she's taking. Once the younger girl has informed the laundress the chamberlains are told, who are quick to inform the servants of higher standing that they pass in the corridors before heading along. By breakfast the next morning whispers of dragons have reached the soldiers, who tell the knights, who tell members of the Kingsguard the next evening at dinner over a game of tiles. Soon after that Gerold Hightower makes an offhanded remark about the babbling of servants to Arthur Dayne.

And that is how Rhaegar Targaryen finds out about dragons.

~X~

There is a strange feeling in his chest as he listens to Arthur tell him the rumor that has quickly spread through the numbers serving the Red Keep. It's a fractured tale but from what Arthur understands a young servant overheard the Red Woman talking about dragons with another servant of the Red Keep earlier the day before. Supposedly, and Rhaegar finds it easy to believe, Melisandre of Asshai had been telling the other servant that Orstara Baratheon had hatched four dragons with fire and blood and has been hiding them from those living in Westeros with old magic.

Visenya Targaryen reborn it would seem.

Rhaegar finds his hand to be trembling when he raises it to run his fingers through his hair.

"There is no stopping the rumor, Rhaegar, now that it's been started." Arthur frets, his lavender eyes wide and worried.

"No, there's not."

"What would you have me do? If your father were to catch wind of this he'd..."

"What? hasten our marriage? Demand she bring the dragons to him? If the rumors hold any truth I doubt my father would get very far with threatening Ostara Baratheon."

Arthur frowns, "How do you figure?"

"When we were still corresponding quire frequently she one told me to be nice first, because you can always be cruel later, but once the cruelty has been done then those around you would see your kindness as a lie. So be nice, I remember her writing to me, be nice until it is time to stop being nice."

"And then?"

Rhaegar levels his friend with a look and recalls, "And then destroy them."

The kingsgaurd member flinches away as the words process in his brain. Rhaegar understands, he'd often thought Ostara to be a sweet girl, innocent and untouched by cruelty. When he'd received the letter and read her words Rhaegar had thought she was trying to offer him comfort through a sort of caustic humor and so he hadn't thought much about those words. Now he wishes he had. Would it have made the revelation of what she would one day be capable of doing easier to comprehend? Would it have prepared Rhaegar for the fact that his cousin, who is only half a Targaryen by blood, has done that which not even his purely Targaryen grandfather could not?

No, no it wouldn't have.

Because Rhaegar is a thrice damned fool and now he must pay for his inability to see that which was always right in front of him. He'd shaken off the feeling of being something akin to prey whenever he found himself in Ostara's presence, he misinterpreted the dragon dreams, misunderstood the prophecy he'd found tucked away in the forgotten recesses of the library.

He should have known; prophecies are made of words, and words are wind.

How foolish of him to assume that he of all people would be the Promised Princess. Of course, it had been easy to assume as the one who wrote the prophecy is long dead and with no one to help him interpret the meaning Rhaegar's mind had created it's own meanings. He is both to blame for and innocent of the chaos his misstep has likely caused.

"What are you going to do, Rhaegar?" Arthur asks after a long moment, pulling the prince from his thoughts.

"Honestly? I've no clue." Rhaegar rolls his neck and sighs, "I've severely underestimated Ostara, as we all have, and now I have likely fallen into whatever plans she's laid out for herself."

"Do you think she means to kill you?"

Rhaegar doubts that.

"No, I believe her intention is more to better the realm... What is it that the Red Woman, Melisandre is it?, is always calling her?"

"Pardon?"

"I've stumbled across the Red Woman calling Ostara something before, but it seems the name is lost to me at the moment. I feel it was something important." Rhaegar says, frowning at his inability to recall something as simple as a name.

"I'm unsure I know what it is you're talking about." Arthur shakes his head but seems unsurprising that the Red Priestess would call Ostara anything other than her name.

Rhaegar says nothing in favor of drumming his fingers against the carved oak of his chair. This is a situation that must be handled with delicacy. Before news of dragons and magic Rhaegar had known that he and Ostara would wed, had begun to want it for reasons beyond a throne and political gain, and now there is a very real chance that Rhaegar will have to fight for her hand, her attention, and her affection simply because his father or Lord Tywin or a number of other Lords would all wish to possess her should they believe the rumors. His father will, of course, for he has a taste for fire and legends of dragons.

But would Ostara respond favorably to him should he attempt to build a better relationship with her now? Truth of the matter is Rhaegar has no true experience with courting women and had - foolishly ,stupidly- fallen back on the fact that he and Ostara were simply going to be wed on the fact that she shares Targaryen blood. Now there is a very real chance that marrying Ostara might become an impossibility to him. The last thing he wants to do is alienate her, antagonize her, or make her think that he only wants her because of her dragons because while that has something to do with it that isn't why Rhaegar finds the thought of loosing her so appalling.

Ostara Baratheon, for all of her false faces, is kind and gentle and her head is very likely made of gold. Rhaeagr has never felt used in her presence and he has never thought that she was being kind to him simply for a throne. Ostara has always treated him like a human being where others have treated him as a prince-soon-to-be-king and Rhaegar wants her in his life.

"Have you any was of finding the one who started the rumors?" Rhaeagar asks and for a long time Arthur is silent.

"There was a bit of a commotion earlier with a young girl and her brother that I heard of but there were no details... I assumed it was nothing." Arthur says, tone soft and low so that no one else might hear.

They both know why Varys has come to King's Landing, neither of them are foolish enough not to.

"Bring them both to me. It may be nothing but I'd like to be absolutely certain that these rumors are based in truth before I do anything that might make Ostara Baratheon an enemy of mine." Rhaegar pinches the bridge of his nose at the thought.

A woman who gives birth to four dragons and wields magic powerful enough to hide them is not a woman to be trifled with. To make an enemy of Ostara Baratheon in any way would mean terrible things to come... And Rhaegar wants her to be the very opposite of his enemy.

So he sends Arthur off with the task of bringing him the siblings so that he can discuss what happened with both of them before anyone else can. Should it be needed Rhaegar will send them off to work in Jon Connington's keep where he knows the Lord of Griffin's Roost will see the children safe if the need be. They are friends, after all, and Rhaegar has so very few of those of late. At least Arthur, he knows, is as loyal a friend as they come... Should all else fail Rhaegar could always see the children sent to Starfall where they would be treated well among the Dornish... Yes, that is what he will do. Send them to Dorne where they can be protected and cared for by those loyal to him.

Rhaegar drops his head to rest against the back of the chair.

Azor Ahai, that's what the Red Woman had called Ostara.