"He beheaded the envoys of the Iron Bank and the Sealord of Braavos in the town square of Oldtown?" an amused voice asked, while the man who conveyed the message could not hide the disbelief in his own words.
"Yes, Your Grace," Jon Connington replied, even as Rhaegar Targaryen leaned forward on his table, with his arms crossed in front of his chin, as was his wont when he pondered about things to do.
The events at Oldtown had caught all of Westeros and even Essos by surprise, when on the eve of his coronation, Quentyn Martell had instead assaulted the Starry Sept of all places. Before the populace of Oldtown could react properly at this heretofore unseen act of audacity, things had taken a more sinister turn.
The revelation that the Iron Bank had sent ten faceless men to kill Quentyn Martell on the eve of his coronation and the fact that the faceless men had chosen to kill no less than the Most Devout themselves in order to disguise themselves to kill the Martell Prince; well, wars and crusades had been called for lesser offences. Now, Quentyn was being hailed as a blessed soul, while Tarly was being hailed as the Warrior himself for saving the Starry Sept from the Essosi heathens. There were even some calls to reconstitute the Faith Militant and launch a crusade on Braavos.
Rhaegar smiled grimly at the turn of events. The Iron Bank had overreached and badly. The fact that Elia's foster son had seen the threat and sent Tarly to crush the Faceless Men had in fact turned the situation into an act teetering on Knife's edge. The boy had clearly seen the dangers of leaving an attack on the faith unaddressed and had taken drastic steps to mitigate the fallout. Beheading the envoy of the Iron Bank and the First Sword of Braavos, and banning Braavos from any trade in Dorne and Reach, all of these were the bare minimum of acts needed to prevent the small folk from rioting. In one stroke, the boy had avenged the insult to the faith and neatly apportioned the blame to the Essosi scum, and all of Westeros from the Neck to Dorne was baying for Braavosi blood. Nothing united people like a common enemy. Again, he wished that he had been aware of the boy's potential earlier, so that he could have brought him into his plans, but that was wishful thinking. The die was cast and there was nothing more to do.
"So, he survived again, as you said," Rhaegar spoke softly, as he turned to the third person in the room. A stunningly beautiful woman with red hair, garbed in the robes of a red priestess of Rhollor.
"As you say, My Prince, the young snake will not fall to anyone, that is his destiny. He shall remain undefeated for as long as he lives. I know not by what grace of the Red God that the boy is blessed so, but even you will not be able to best him. You will not lose to him either, but you will not prevail over him even with Dragons, that much is foreseen," Melisandre of Asshai spoke softly, and Rhaegar considered it seriously.
"Have a care, woman, Prince Rhaegar is the chosen of the Gods, how dare you say he cannot prevail over the boy? The boy may be gifted at war, but once the dragons are hatched, no power in Westeros or Essos can stand against House Targaryen," the Lord of Griffin's Roost all but roared in indignation, at which the Red Priestess sighed in mirth at the behavior of the Stormlord.
"Peace, Jon, that is but a thing for the future, for now, our plans need to be looked at. Have Thorne and his men been integrated into the Southern Army?" Rhaegar asked after a moment, to which Jon nodded hesitantly.
It was one of the earliest steps taken by Rhaegar after hearing of the defeat of the army led by Leyton Hightower. He had ordered a section of the Loyalist Army made up of the Crownlands men to pose as refugees and head into Dorne. He had calculated correctly that his nephew by marriage would accept those men as he needed the manpower. In this way, he would subtly strengthen those fighting his enemies and at the same time, keep a tab on a new growing power and perhaps even learn some of the secrets through which the boy had reshaped the might of Dorne into a terrifying spear of death.
"To think that those Dornish scum kept such might and prowess hidden, if they had been at the Trident, then we could have..." Jon Connington growled in anger at which Rhaegar shook his head. His friend had clearly been upset about the fact that the two regions in Westeros that he looked down upon the most, The North and Dorne, had actually proven to be the mightiest of the seven Kingdoms.
"The Crownlands, Stormlands, West and the Riverlands may have forgotten Jon, but House Targaryen has not. These four regions were closer to Kings Landing and thus have a more storied history with the crown, but we, House Targaryen never forgot that there was one Kingdom which joined the Iron Throne without any loss in the conquest. Of all the Kingdoms that knelt to the conqueror, only the North never faced his armies or dragons, but they knelt and by doing so, they saved themselves and did not loose a single man, lost no gold, lost no keeps or wealth. They simply knelt and preserved their strength. In fact, though he did not state it, the Conqueror was unhappy that the North knelt so quickly. He wanted battle, and he wanted to use the battle to chip at the strength of the North to weaken them, but the Northmen were too canny and quickly surrendered," Rhaegar revealed after a moment, to which Connington flapped his jaws like an open fish, at this bit of information.
"And of course, whenever they did reveal their strength, they literally changed the course of Westeros. It was not House Targaryen or Tyrell or Tully, nor Baratheon nor Lannister nor Arryn, but House Stark that ended the Dance of Dragons. Cregan Stark came south with but a quarter of his strength and put an end to the greatest war in the history of Westeros. He whose ancestors had knelt a hundred years ago to the conqueror were now the ones who allowed us to continue sitting on the Iron Throne. The conqueror must have been rolling in his grave in the crypts at the shame of it. And the less said of the defiance of Dorne after the conquest, the better. Afterall, you know the history of it, hell, the entire world knows of it. The rest of the great houses may have deluded themselves into thinking themselves as mighty and powerful, but the two most dangerous houses have always stayed away from the affairs of the realm, but now, both are baring their teeth and the Iron Throne, the Throne is lost, and we have no one to blame to but ourselves," Rhaegar whispered, while Jon tightened his jaws in rage, but could not find the words to refute the truth in his Prince's words.
"But you survived, My Prince, with the help of Lady Melisandre, you have avoided the calamity that befell House Targaryen," Jon insisted, to which Rhaegar nodded quietly in agreement.
In fact, it was the presence of the Red Woman who had intercepted their party when Rhaegar had gone to the Green Isles to visit the Green Men, that all their lives had changed. The Red Woman had displayed her magic and her abilities, and Prince Rhaegar had listened to her intently. The revelations from the prophecies made by the Red Woman had allowed them to fool the world into believing that Rhaegar had died in the Trident, when it was the Velaryon Bastard, Aurane Waters, who under the magics of the Red Woman had disguised himself as Rhaegar and gone on to the battle before dying at the hands of Robert Baratheon.
The Red Woman had prophesied the treachery of Tywin, but had told them in no uncertain terms that Elia and Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys could not and must not be saved. For this was the sacrifice that the Red God demanded, she told in no uncertain terms, for the continued survival of House Targaryen. She had correctly predicted that with the death of Elia Martell, House Lannister would create for themselves an implacable enemy who would destroy the Lions forever. For three agonizing months, Rhaegar had vacillated, before accepting with a heavy heart. And thus, they remained silent, hidden away in the Stepstones of all places, while Tywin and his men marched on the Red Keep.
It was a brutal thing to know and do nothing, to watch silently while his own wife was raped and killed and his children mutilated, but Rhaegar had changed in the three months after the battle of the Trident. The revelations of the existence of the Braavosi secret council and its actions which had sought to bring ruin to House Targaryen for three hundred years had been revealed, and to say that they were shocked, was an understatement. All the sordid histories, from the Faith Militant uprising to the Dance of the Dragons, and then the Blackfyre Rebellions. A never-ending series of treacheries and betrayal, it was enough to make his head spin. To learn that the rats known as the maesters of the citadel had been the reason for the decline of the Targaryen bloodline and the death of their dragons was another blow in a series of never-ending betrayals.
"The conqueror should never have set foot in this shitty continent! He should have simply taken over Essos instead," Rhaegar finally whispered in disgust.
"My Prince," Jon began only to be interrupted harshly by Rhaegar who almost snarled in rage.
"What did this shitty continent have before the conqueror came to these shores? A constant never-ending series of worthless bloodletting between a thousand and one petty lords. It was the conqueror who forged a single nation out of these tree humping savages and stone fucking barbarians! Before the conqueror, Westeros was nothing. He built a nation out of savages and squabbling lords. He brought order, stability, peace and an end to the unending wars on the continent. And how did they repay it? With treachery, rebellion and betrayal!" Rhaegar snarled in rage as he pounded his fist on the table.
"House Targaryen would have taken Westeros to glories unseen before in history, and yet out of malice, sheer envy and greed, these vassals conspired to bring us down instead. The greatest mistake that the Targaryen's of old did was trying to please their vassals too much even when we still had the Dragons. Sometimes, I wonder how things would have turned out if Maegor had been allowed to rule a bit longer," Rhaegar growled, while Jon paled. Rhaegar Targaryen was not one to give in to rage, but when he did, it was a terrible thing to behold.
"But you will have your vengeance, My Prince," the Red woman spoke out, at which the two men turned to look at each other.
"The young snake has defanged the old lion just as I have foreseen, and now, it is time for you to strike by coming out of the shadows," she concluded, while Rhaegar nodded.
"Have we heard from Lord Quellon and his son?" Rhaegar asked, to which Jon nodded.
"The Volantene, Pentos, Lys, and the cities of Slaver's bay have agreed to your proposal. We have also gotten word from the Golden Company and the Blackfyre boy's step-father. The combined might of all these cities, along with ten thousand unsullied, a force numbering hundred and fifty thousand men, all of them will set sail to Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Once we have our victory, the bulk of these forces will return to their homes while we will be left only with the Golden Company and the other sell swords as well as the Greyjoy's to consolidate our gains, however," Jon paused, as he looked at Rhaegar, whose face looked as if it was carved from stone.
"However, what?" Rhaegar asked curtly, to which, Jon swallowed and continued, "The price that the Volantene and the scum from the slaver bay have asked, to take half the gold in Casterly Rock as well as the right to capture many of the Smallfolk from the west as slaves for the right to wield their forces in the battle, I fear is too steep a price! Even if it is for one battle only, you will have an army unsurpassed by any in Westeros! Why not use it to put down the Rebellion and make peace with the Martells? Why go to the extent of selling Westerosi into slaves? All the goodwill that you will gain by revealing that you are alive, you will lose once they learn that you permitted Westerosi to be sold as slaves!" Jon finished in an agitated tone while Rhaegar scoffed.
"And why do I need their goodwill anymore?" Rhaegar retorted, at which Connington looked dumbstruck.
"These same smallfolk cheered for me, and sang my praises, and yet, crowned Robert as King over the corpses of my wife and children. They spit on my father's grave, and yet, no one cared that before his madness, that for twenty years the realm prospered under him, and all of them had food to eat, roofs over their heads and no threats save from some banditry. They literally sang my praises, and what good did that do for me? A King has no need for the goodwill of his people. What he needs is their obedience and fear. Indulge them too much, and the peasants will think they can overrule their King. For a hundred years after the conquest, no one dared to rebel, because the memories of the Field of Fire were still present. The moment those memories failed, it led to the Dance," he finished, while Jon lowered his head.
"Have our men found the wildfire caches left behind by my father?" he asked curtly, while Jon swallowed and slowly nodded in agreement. Rhaegar looked at the Red Woman, who nodded in agreement.
After a moment, Rhaegar paused, "Once Stannis and Renly Baratheon reach Kings Landing, send a trusted man to do what needs to be done. The world has forgotten that House Targaryen secured its rule by the Field of Fire. Now, I will give the world a second one," Rhaegar spoke out curtly, to which Jon balked.
"Your Grace, you will be sacrificing the Red Keep and the Iron Throne, the symbol of your Kingship," Jon protested to which Rhaegar scoffed.
"The true symbol of our kingship were the dragons. The Iron Throne was useless as a symbol, in fact it is a detriment. By forging so great a symbol, the conqueror made a mistake, where any fool who could manage to seat himself on that chair can call himself King," Rhaegar growled, while Jon still hesitated.
"There are still loyal smallfolk in the city, Your Grace," the Griffin Lord tried one last time.
"The smallfolk are loyal to whichever house sits on the throne, not my house specifically, Jon," Rhaegar callously dismissed Connington's words and turned to look at him. "You swore to serve me, no matter how harsh or heinous a command I may issue once we set on our path! Are you still that man?"
"Your Grace! I am your man, till death and beyond!" Connington swore with horror in his tone and knelt before Rhaegar who came forward and helped him up.
"Remember Jon, all our sacrifices will be worth it as long as little Daenerys is born! With the mother of dragons and my Jaeherys learning from his uncle Ned Stark, the Cregan Stark of our generation, the future of House Targaryen and Westeros will be secured. But for them to have a secure rule, we must lay the foundations by weeding out all the predicaments that can trouble them, by any means necessary. It will be as we have foreseen in the flames!"
Author's Note: And here we finally see Rhaegar Targaryen, the titular villain of the story. A man broken by all that befell his family, and is now willing to sink to any means necessary to survive and take vengeance. The first of the seven dragons has arrived.