Rhaegar

A thousand ships!" The messenger's rat brown hair was tousled and unwashed, and the torchlight showed his fine face flush and ragged and windburnt. "Most of the men are lost and so are the ships. Those who survived were taken prisoners by Ser Baelor."

"My son," asked Mace Tyrell. "Loras. Is he alright?"

"Ser Loras fought valiantly, my Lord," the messenger said, "but he was captured by the overwhelming Hightower knights."

"Your Grace, this must be answered fiercely!" Tyrell's words rang off the rafters and echoed through the cavernous throne room.

Seated on his Iron Throne, Rhaegar could feel a growing tightness in her neck. How many betrayals and backstabbing should I have to face in my life, he wondered. He should never have trusted Lord Leyton. The Others take him and his family. Little did kinship help him here at Oldtown. The Knight of the Flowers captured and Ser Jorah Mormont possibly dead, Leyton Hightower has damned any kinship he had with them in favour of his northern grandson.

"All our ships?" Jon looked at the messenger doubtfully. "That couldn't be. No lord commands such a great fleet to destroy our great Royal Navy. Certainly we outnumbered the Hightower ships ten to one. Our ships wouldn't have found it hard to capture Oldtown should the need arise."

"Mayhaps the northern fleet has made it's way south," said Petyr Baelish, stroking his pointed beard, calculating, the king could see through that. "That, or we've got ourselves a false messenger."

The torches on the back wall threw the long, barbed shadow of the Iron Throne halfway to the doors. The far end of the hall was lost in darkness, and Rhaegar could not but feel that the shadows were closing around him too. My enemies are everywhere, and my friends are useless. He had only to glance at her councillors to know that; only his hand and Aurane Waters seemed awake. The others had been roused from bed by servants and guards alike pounding on their doors, and stood there rumpled and confused. Outside the night was black and still. The castle and the city slept. Not the kingsguard, though. Not the White Bull or Ser Oswell Whent who stood at the foot of his throne, two pale shadow with a longswords on their hips. Bezzaro was away when he had needed him the most. He wondered if the red priest had seen all this in his flames.

"Even with the northern fleet free, it isn't enough," Waters pointed out Baelish. "It lacks the strength to match our Royal fleet. Combined with the might of the Arbor at sea, no one could have opposed us."

"What of the Greyjoys?" asked the Master of Ships. "The Ironborn are a force to be reckoned with at sea. They also have larger ships as well. Lord Balon's Great Kraken and the warships of the Iron Fleet were made for battle, not for raids. They are the equal of our lesser war galleys in speed and strength, and most are better crewed and captained. The ironmen live their whole lives at sea."

"The ironmen have not dared raid the Reach since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair," the king said. "It couldn't be them."

"It sorcery," The messenger whispered. He stood with his hands hidden up his sleeves, shivering. "Lord Leyton did it. The crown of the High Tower burned green and Lord Leyton wielded the waves-"

"This frightened fool has gone mad," said Mace Tyrell. "It cannot be. No one can control the seas. Surely this is some fishwife's tale."

So did the dragons of the old belong in tales until my sister and Bezzaro brought them back. If what the man says about Oldtown is true then it must be dealt with at once. Bezzaro could deal with it in no time despite what the messenger says about Leyton Hightower.

"Tales or not," said Rhaegar, "Hightower must be dealt with at once. It may have started with Oldtown but it will not stop there. Our navy first, then holdfasts, castles, large and small will fall even Highgarden might be threatened. I'll not have a war in my own domains when I have a dozen rebels all around me."

Jon nodded. "House Hightower holds great power in the reach," he said. "Lord Leyton's uncle is the High Septon as well. Should he wish though he could turn the entire kingdom against us as the Faith did to Maegor the Cruel."

"Get the High Septon under our control," Petyr Baelish said with a smile. "He is within our reach. And there is only little he could do from the depth of the black cells." The king did not like the Master of the Coin's tone or the smile which accompanied his words.

"The High Septon speaks for the Seven here on earth. Strike at him, and you are striking at the gods themselves," Rhaegar said. "The man opposed my marriage to Lyanna despite the fact that I was his king. If we dare lay a hand on him now, we'll be facing a Faith Militant uprising within our own gates."

That would doubtless be catastrophe. The Faith nearly destroyed Maegor's rule when the king had defied and insulted the gods. To have another of the kind when an open rebellion was raging across his realm, it would doubtless destroy the realm.

"Deal with Oldtown, I say," Jon said, "before Lord Leyton has the chance to even think about doing something as such."

"How would the Lord hand suggest us to accomplish that, without sufficient ships?" asked Waters. "Our fleet is done. Without cutting off Oldtown's contact with the sea any siege you propose will be of little use."

Rhaegar saw the truth of it. Without blocking off Oldtown from the sea they could any talk for siege was vain. It was the presence of a fleet which could keep Oldtown from being resupplied by sea.

The king frowned. "Jon. Get some necessary gold and good men. On the morrow you shall leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea and gather my friends from the East. It seems as if I would need their help now more than ever."

"Your grace," Young maester Pylos said quietly, "I beg you to reconsider. It isn't wise to bring in a foreign army against our own-"

"Our own," Rhaegar stopped him sharply. "Our own? The ones who are fighting to overthrow me and mine? They are not mine. The Born King, Robert, Jon Arryn and Tully, they are nothing but traitors and rebels and I'll deal with them as such."

Pylos shrunk back into his seat as if he was slapped across the face.

"I need all the warships you can get. Carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers it doesn't matter hire them as well. Get the grand Maesters of Essos with all their unsullied and sellswords and ferry them across Blackwater Bay as soon as you can. Let them know that they can have all the riches they want as per our deal."

"Your Grace what of Oldtown?" asked Mace Tyrell.

"Muster the men you have with you here in King's Landing," said Rhaegar. "Surely Highgarden must have known of this before us."

"It does," said the Master of Laws. "My son Willas has sent word that he is gathering men to defend our lands. Willas can raise ten thousand men within a fortnight and twice that in a moon's turn."

"Highgarden sits above the Mander," Jon reminded Tyrell. "Don't let your son rush his gathered forces straight for Oldtown. Should the Hightowers make their way into the heart of the Reach by the Mander it will leave Highgarden undefended."

"Willas sits strongly in Highgarden," Lord Tyrell replied. "He has a good host around him to defend our lands."

"Good," Rhaegar said. "Gather your forces then and march for Highgarden. Join with your son and move for Oldtown."

"Your Grace," Aurane Waters said, "without the ships a siege is useless."

Rhaegar smiled. "There will be no siege." He looked to the young maester. ""It will take half a year or more to starve Oldtown into submission, as a siege wont to do. I will sack Oldtown or burn it to ground if I have to. Pylos, send a raven to my sister in Stormlands. We have need of her dragon here. This audience is at an end. Jon, a word."

The Hand of the King stopped as he got up from his seat. Rhaegar waited for the others to walk out of the Throne room.

Dawn was still several hours away when Rhaegar and his Hand Jon Connington slipped out the king's door behind the Iron Throne. Ser Gerald and Ser Oswell flanked him, torch in hand and Jon strolled along beside him. "If it please Your Grace," Jon said, "perhaps you ought to send someone else on this journey. My place is to be with you. The Hand of the King should be with the king. Surely we could find some loyal man to carry on this duty you've bestowed upon me."

"Loyalty is very hard to find nowadays, my friend," Rhaegar told him. "The people I could trust are very few. I need you to go to the east on my behalf, Jon. I don't trust anyone else but you on this."

"I will not fail you, Your Grace."

"I have no doubt that you will, my friend," Rhaegar smiled. "This will not be the end of the House of Dragon, Jon. We are winning some battles. When you come back with our allies from the east we will win this war." That seemed to be case for him. There had been another battle in the Riverlands, a savage one. The Lannisters had come down from the West in their hundreds and Myles and Richard had sent them back running with their tails between their legs with the help of his son. The Seven had granted them a great victory at Stoney Sept that the bells were rung for days in glee for their victory.

Garlan Tyrell had his hands tightened around the riverlords, to the point where none of them even managed to hinder him. Robert and his brothers were stuck in the Stormlands and were delayed more and more by the storms and rains. The Stormlands was living up to its name. If the gods were good, the storm would keep Robert and his Stormlords well occupied. Stark was away from his allies one way or another and the Legend of the Dragonslayer might come to an end once he faces the dragons of House Targaryen in open battle.

"You're a good friend, Jon," the king said. "A loyal and trusted sword. When you return we will have a victory feast."

"You will have your ships and allies, Your Grace" Jon Connington said. "I swear that on my honor as a Connington and as your loyal friend."