Rhaegar
They supped alone. It has been weeks since Rhaegar shared a meal with his wife or a talk for that matter.
"The mutton is overcooked," he complained trying to start a conversation.
"Any displeasure I'm feeling has naught to do with mutton," Lyanna told him. She has always been a wild and willful woman but never has he seen her so distraught. The things that happened lately has changed a lot in her, Rhaegar could see it.
A lot of it has displeased the king himself the primary thing being the Dornish. He had settled Prince Oberyn and his lords in a cornerfort facing the city, as far from the Tyrells as he could put them without evicting them from the Red Keep entirely. It was not nearly far enough. Already there had been a brawl in a Flea Bottom pot-shop that left one Tyrell man-at-arms dead and two of Lord Gargalen's scalded, and an ugly confrontation in the yard when Mace Tyrell's wizened little mother called Ellaria Sand "the serpent's whore." Every time he chanced to see Oberyn Martell the prince asked when the justice would be served. Overcooked mutton was the least of Rhaegar's troubles, but he saw no point in burdening his wife with any of that. Lyanna had enough griefs and displeasures of her own.
"Are you alright?" he asked her softly, placing his palm on her hand. "Aegon told me that you didn't eat for days."
"I'm alright, your grace," was her only reply.
"It's okay, Lya, you can tell it to me."
She looked at her plate in silence. Rhaegar could see that something was different about her. He knew that it started with Viserys' untimely and mysterious death and the assassination attempt on him in Braavos did not help either. He wondered what happened to Slynt and his men. There was nothing to be heard from them after they had left for Braavos. He had ordered the man to finish his work and send the word of it at once but there was nothing from him. Even Varys has nothing to say about them. Rhaegar hoped that the idiot would finish it soon enough. The sooner the loose ends are tied up he could turn his concerns to Robert and Lord Jon.
The supper ended in a strained silence. He did not want to trouble her more. If she did not want to talk so be it once she sees Aegon's marriage everything will return to normal. Afterward, as the servants were removing the cups and platters, Lyanna asked Rhaegar for leave to visit the godswood.
"As you wish." He had become accustomed to his wife's nightly devotions. Rhaegar found all this piety excessive, if truth be told, but if she wants the help of the gods she is welcome to it. "Perhaps someday I could even accompany you," he said, trying to be pleasant.
The sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace. Rhaegar waved her off. "Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there." He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but he knew he would only get silence as a reply. It's better to leave her to her ways.
He went back to work after she left, trying to track some of the things he would want to do before his son's marriage. It was a tiresome job to do everything by himself. Lyanna was not likely to plan and prepare them for the upcoming marriage. He would want get some golden dragons through the labyrinth of Littlefinger's ledgers. Petyr Baelish does not believes in letting gold sit about and grow dusty. It was all very well to talk of breeding dragons instead of locking them up in the treasury, but some of these late ventures smelled worse than week-old fish. The royal coffers was filled and was in the best shape but with a war looming in the horizon it is wise to spend each pieces wisely.
When his head ached with the sight of the accounts he summoned for his small council. Jon Connington was the first one to arrive other than Ser Gerold. Grand Maester Pylos came in quick in his feet with some scrolls and books. Varys came quiet as a shadow, powered in lavender and clothed in purple robes. Mace Tyrell looked as if he was annoyed to be kept away from his bed. Baelish came in stroking his pointed beard with a sly smile which Rhaegar mistrusted at every turn. Aurane Waters was the last one to come in, the replacement to the king's brother. Rhaegar was wary of his smug face but the Bastard of Driftmark proved himself useful.
"My lords," Rhaegar told them when they sat. "Sorry to call all of you in such a late hour but there are matters to be discussed. Any word from the Stormlands or the Vale?"
"Nothing as of important, your grace," Varys said so softly that anyone would have thought he whispered. "Robert Baratheon has returned to Storm's End and Jon Arryn to the Vale. With this newfound marriage with Gendry Baratheon and Alyssa Arryn there's been whispers that they are preparing for war."
First Stark and now his friends. Rhaegar thought of Eddard Stark and his rebellion which resulted in the loss of half his kingdom. This time though it will destroy his entire kingdom. He wondered if he should've made an alliance with his foes as well. Robert has a daughter, a lovely maid, the fairest of them all. The girl was betrothed to Stark's son. Now that he is gone Rhaegar could ask her hand in a marriage for a southern prince in exchange of the northern prince she was promised to. Jaehaerys was still available and Argella would still rule the north, only, she will be a princess and not the Queen. The offer was sound and it is a good match for either of them but Rhaegar knew that Robert would likely spit in his face rather than to offer his daughter's hand in marriage for his son.
"So long as they are away from each other it is good for us," Mace Tyrell said with all the confidence of a proven warrior who has won a hundred wars. The bloody Tyrell was likely to run away the moment he sees foes in the field the same way he ran away from Ned Stark. Rhaegar remembered that day as if it happened only yesterday. Tyrell had ran back the moment the wolves came howling through the night. It had left his left flank vulnerable which was then smashed by the King in the North himself. If it wasn't for Lord Randyll Tarly it would've been a red butchery in the Wolfswood that day.
"For a man who don't know what happens in his own kingdom everything is good," Aurane Waters chuckled.
"What did you say?" Mace Tyrell grew red and puffy with anger.
"The truth," Aurane said with a chuckle. "One hears strange things from Oldtown. News about magic and other dark things. Do you know what Lord Leyton Hightower is doing?"
Rhaegar himself was confused of all the thoughts regarding Hightower. The visions he saw in Bezzaro's fire still occupied his mind. To have open enemies in the field is one thing but to have traitors in his own household is entirely different. It would be a disaster.
"Lord Leyton is a loyal lord and my own goodfather," Tyrell argued.
"So he was to Lord Dayne," Aurane told him. "And King Eddard was married to his granddaughter. He has locked himself in his High Tower for eight years. Right from the time his granddaughter and her family was killed. That doesn't sound like a coincidence to me."
Mace Tyrell gaped like a puff fish outside of the water. When he didn't have any answer all the eyes turned to Ser Gerold.
"Ser Gerold, do you know what Lord Leyton is doing?" Rhaegar asked the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard.
Ser Gerold had a firm look about him. "I don't, your grace," he said. "If I ever hear anything, I'll make sure that your grace hears it."
"If I may, your grace," Varys spoke again, "I bring some other tidings as well. Important ones from the north."
The north. Nothing from the north brought good news to the king's ears for many years. He wished this time it would change with his son in Winterfell.
Rhaegar turned at once to Varys. "You have reports?"
The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. "There's been trouble in the north." He said quietly. "An outlaw band is troubling our lands and people in the way of their Outlaw King. The Wolfswood Brotherhood, they are called and they are harassing our lines and castles. People are disappearing every day and they are found days after hanging from the trees."
Another band of outlaws in the woods. Rhaegar thought about the Kingswood Brotherhood which once terrorised his father's rule. His father had tasked Arthur Dayne to deal with them and the Sword of the Morning had brought them to an end where most had failed before him. Alas, he did not have Arthur to deal with these new outlaws now. "Darkfang is in the north," he said. "Send word for him to deal with them."
"Our brave Ser Darkfang has taken it upon himself and left Waterspring to hunt them down. But there has been nothing heard from him."
"Waterspring," Mace Tyrell vented his obvious displeasure, "the northern fleet is anchored there. What madness led Ser Derek to leave it unguarded?"
He is a dozen times wiser than you, you fat fool. As far as Waterspring stands the fleet will make no threat. Derek held Manderly's son as his hostage. As far as he stays there Lord Wyman will never send any of his forces to Waterspring. Not even these small attacks of the outlaws could give courage to the northmen to rise against a dragon.
"Send a raven to Lord Tywin," Rhaegar told them. "Ask him to send Ser Gregor Clegane to deal with this rogue threat."
"You grace," Jon said. "Is it wise? Wouldn't it be good to deal with this ourselves. Lord Tywin is Robert Baratheon's goodfather and Ser Gregor is-"
"Is the man I knighted," Rhaegar finished before him. "And I mean to see if Lord Tywin is being loyal to his king. He is sworn to me as the others and hence he is in right to obey my command. I want Lord Tywin away from his mad dog as far as I can get him. Without the Mountain he will not take any quick decisions."
And he meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. It would serve to quiet Oberyn. Oberyn knows nothing of what happened that day. He has heard tales. Stable gossip and kitchen calumnies. He has no crumb of proof. No one knows the truth except for Bezzaro and Jaime Lannister. Ser Jaime took the secret with him to his grave and Bezzaro is certainly not about to confess to him. Denying the promised justice might offend the Martells and giving them Gregor Clegane would appease the Martells as well as take Lord Tywin's mad dog away from him.
It is justice in a way too. It was the Mountain who brought them to him that day.
Lord Tywin had come late to his cause. It was expected of him to demonstrate his loyalty. When he sent the Mountain in his place to act in his stead King's Landing no one could say that the Old Lion supported him rather than his father. Rhaegar had always suspected it was done to make his daughter Cersei as his queen. He would casually tell Oberyn that Gregor murdered Elia and the children in hope of gaining favor from him. And if Oberyn wants to chase from where the orders came, he can go chasing Lord Tywin. They can fight and bleed and die for all they want. As far as he is concerned it meant less enemies.
Prince Oberyn's presence here was unfortunate. Doran Martell was a cautious man, a reasoned man, subtle, deliberate, even indolent to a degree. He was a man who weighs the consequences of every word and every action. Rhaegar would have had a good time treating with him. But Oberyn has always been half-mad. It is wise to quiet him first before something big happens.
"We might move on to the wedding," Rhaegar said.
Jon spoke of the preparations being made at the Great Sept of Baelor. They would want to feed a thousand in the throne room, but many more outside in the yards. The outer and middle wards would be tented in silk, with tables of food and casks of ale for all those who could not be accommodated within the hall.
"Your Grace," said Grand Maester Pylos, "in regard to the number of guests... we have had a raven from Sunspear. Three hundred more Dornishmen are riding toward King's Landing as we speak, and hope to arrive before the wedding. They are coming to attend their princess' wedding."
"How do they come?" asked Mace Tyrell gruffly. "They have not asked leave to cross my lands." His thick neck had turned a dark red, Rhaegar noted. Dornishmen and Highgardeners had never had great love for one another; over the centuries, they had fought border wars beyond count, and raided back and forth across mountains and marches even when at peace. The enmity had waned a bit after Dorne had become part of the Seven Kingdoms... until Oberyn had crippled the young heir of Highgarden in a tourney. This could be ticklish, the king thought. Oberyn already has a good number of men with him in King's Landing. What is he hoping to achieve by bringing in more men.
"When my sister is wed to your son and Aegon to Princess Arianne, we shall all be one great House," Rhaegar reminded Mace Tyrell. "The enmities of the past should remain there, would you not agree, my lord?"
"I have no quarrel with Doran Martell," insisted Lord Tyrell, though his tone was more than a little grudging. "If they wishes to cross the Reach in peace, he need only ask my leave."
Small chance of that, thought Rhaegar. Oberyn had climbed the Boneway, turn east near Summerhall, and come up the kingsroad and his men would do the same. With a war already brewing Rhaegar did not want to see his noble allies at each others' throats.
"If that is all," Rhaegar said and his council members got up at once. "We'll end it here. Maester send a raven to Winterfell and ask my son to come to King's Landing as soon as this trouble with outlaws is over."
When they left the king mused how fine everything was going on. Only one thing can make this sweeter all the more, a letter from Janos with the news of a certain death.