Rhaegar

The King stood over the brazier, warming his powerful hands. Varys had brought word from the South and Rhaegar had convened an urgent meeting at once.

"It would appear the Dornish made away with the prisoners in the very midst from the Baratheon camp. Almost all made it out alive including Lord Tarly, Lord Rowan, Ser Edmund Ambrose, Ser Bayard Norcross and all the other highborn captives from the Howling Hill."

"They failed to keep Lord Robert from crossing into the Riverlands though," Littlefinger blamed.

"Have you ever considered that the men under Uller numbered only half as strong as the Stormlanders who were under Robert Baratheon? My men inform me that they barely even managed to screen their movements. Informers are not always as highly placed as we might like, especially in a dark forest like the Misty wood. You should be glad that they at least managed to make out with the Reachmen who managed to get captured in the first place."

The king was not pleased at all. "When will they be able to get back to King's Landing?"

"As soon as you like for them to be."

"Ask them to get back straight to King's Landing as quick as possible. Let Robert go to the Riverlands if he wants. Aegon still blocks his way onwards to Riverrun."

Maester Pylos tittered nervously. "Your grace, you will leave Prince Aegon alone without enough support at all if you pull out the dornish contingent and the Reachmen from the Riverlands."

"I know, maester. The boy could survive without a few more men," said the king, not bothered about it. Aegon has a grown dragon with him by his side. A couple hundred more men would not make a huge difference.

"You can't do that," said Lyanna, shocked at his decision. "Are you not even concerned a little bit about your son?"

"Why wouldn't I? I should never dream of putting our son in danger."

"Mayhaps you should remember what happened to Jaehaerys in the North." Lyanna declared.

"I'd sooner think more about this war rather than worrying about the boy in the wall. He is safe there. If you would like for it, I could get him out of there when I am done with this war."

From the look in her eyes, Lyanna was prepared to argue some more. Rhaegar knew that look better than anyone. He ignored her, not wanting to have her disturbing his war council with her endless chattering. He knew she only feared for her children as any mother would be, but Rhaegar did not have the time to worry about it especially with the arrival of winter coming so close. His sons were destined for greatness. They were destined to fight the Great Other and their army of dead. If they could not even deal with this threat of the boy King who grew up in the gutters, how could they deal with the army of the dead. He had not forgotten what Andrew Stark did to Jaehaerys, but unlike Lyanna the King couldn't keep worrying about it when he had a war ripping the Seven Kingdoms apart. He would avenge his son when the Dragonslayer is dead.

"There's also been word of the Lannisters falling back to Casterly Rock," Varys said. "Word is that the Mountain is grievously wounded in his fight with Prince Aegon and Lord Tywin is amassing another great host in the Rock."

"If the Lannisters is on the run, I say we give chase," Baelish said.

That might be exactly what Tywin Lannister want us to do. The Lord of Casterly Rock was as much fox as he is a lion, always more calm and cunning, rather than being loud and boisterous. Should Aegon take up the supposed chase he would find himself in the open between two armies with Robert so close to Stoney Sept.

"Might this be some ruse?" asked Aurane Waters.

"If so, it is a ruse of surpassing cleverness," said Varys. "It has certainly hoodwinked me."

Rhaegar had heard enough. "It is a ruse of Lord Tywin," he said. "He is trying to get Aegon out of his defensive position in Stoney Sept. The town is well defended and he knows that he would have a hard time taking it. The old Lion would do everything he can to get him out of there." He did not like this news; he had counted on the Tyrells decimating the Stormlands and the Riverlands in bloody battle before Stark and Arryn could come down from their far away fastnesses. He could feel his hand throbbing where the fire from the brazier had kissed it last night. He had seen the great battle in Bezzaro's fires once again last night. And Rhaegar had been fighting it here in this very castle of his ancestors. He was a shadow in Bezzaro's flames, wielding a red sword against the great other who wore a crown of nine icy spikes on a circlet made of snow, who fought with a sword glowing blue as a frozen star in the darkness while the snows surrounded them. It must mean he would win this war with the Dragonslayer. It had to, Bezzaro said as much.

"What of Lord Tarly's host?" Aurane Waters asked. "There must be some survivors from Howling Hill. Not all of them were taken prisoners."

"If there were any survivors there's been no word of it," Oberyn Martell said. "My men saw no Reachmen prowling the forests of Stormlands nor did they see anyone in the Reach."

Rhaegar abandoned the brazier to take his seat at the table. "There is no use in searching for them," the King said. "Most of them would have vanished into the woods and ran away from the fight as far as possible. Those who tried to regroup and ride back to King's Landing would have been hunted down by the Stormlanders."

"Those who made it out of the woods alive wouldn't be so eager to fight again, I'd wager," said Littlefinger.

Oberyn gave him a flashy smile. "You would win, Baelish. Those who broke and ran from the fight first would be the only survivors from the battle. Many others would have followed them."

"There is no use in searching after those who ran," Rhaegar said pointedly.

"Not at all, your grace," agreed the eunuch Varys. "But thanks to our dornish friends the best part of the nobility of the Reach in the Baratheon camp was saved. Tumblestone was still a victory even with Lord Robert winning the battle. Lord Elwood Meadows and Lady Footly had changed sides though. And Grassfield Keep and Tumblestone has yielded and men from both houses are marching with Lord Robert now. The holdings and the lands of the Eastern border of the Reach is under the Baratheon. A fifth of Lord Meadows' knights departed with Lord Robert rather than staying loyal to the throne and lose their heads. It's said that the stag of Baratheon flies from Tumbleton in the north and to the Dornish Marches in the south."

A pity it had to come to that, thought Rhaegar. From where the Stormlands shared it's border with Reach in the west, the King had thought to mount another invasion of the Stormlands when Mace Tyrell and Daenerys pull back from Oldtown. With Robert holding the border in his name now, he wouldn't be able to enter the Stormlands without facing opposition. And men with swaying loyalty were worth less than a sack of dirt. Meadows, Footly and the others. . . all would know the Dragon's wroth when their time comes.

"Lord Baratheon is likely making for Riverrun," Varys went on. "His foster father is there, Lord Arryn and the Born King, the son of the Outlaw King, as well as all his other allies and a great many soldiers who has surrounded themselves around Andrew Stark. Or he would pursue the dornishmen to get his prisoners back. No doubt he had thought to make them a gift for his friend's son."

"He wouldn't pursue the dornishmen," Rhaegar told him. "The road is clear for him. He would make for Riverrun to join with his allies."

Aurane Waters leaned forward. "There is a chance here, it seems to me, my lords. With Robert Baratheon's departure from the Stormlands, his lands are left defenceless. I say we send another army to thrust into the heart of Stormlands now. Take Storm's End and we might find ourselves in the other end of this war."

"Storm's End?" asked Oberyn. "What do we gain by attacking Storm's End?"

"A foothold in the enemy lands," said the Master of Ships. "A revenge for the defeat we suffered in the hands of Lord Baratheon and it might shake the hearts of his men. They have been winning too much as of late. It's time we gave them a taste of defeat."

"And how do you propose that we do that, my Lord Aurane?" Varys asked. "Storm's End has never fallen before, neither to the wrath of the gods nor to the swords of the men."

"With a storm of gold," Littlefinger suggested at once.

Varys made a tsking sound. "Sweet Petyr, surely you do not mean to suggest that these puissant lords and noble knights could be bought like so many chickens in the market."

"Have you been to our markets of late, Lord Varys?" asked Littlefinger. "You'd find it easier to buy a lord than a chicken, I daresay. Of course, lords cluck prouder than chickens, and take it ill if you offer them coin like a tradesman, but they are seldom adverse to taking gifts . . . honours, lands, castles . . . "

"Bribes might sway some of the lesser lords," Varys said, "but it will never buy you Storm's End. The knight had left to hold his castle is no mere man with dreams of riches."

"True," Littlefinger admitted. "But it doesn't hurt much to try and turn some swords sworn to Robert the way he turned our men to take up arms for him."

"It wouldn't work at all," Varys insisted. "My lords, I tell you it would not work. Did we not learn anything from Winterfell or from the Outlaw King's rebellion, from Riverrun. And now the rebels grow ever the more stronger."

"What are you saying, Lord Varys?" Aurane Waters was tired of the Spider's cryptic talks.

I do know what he is saying, the King thought. Bezzaro had seen it in his fires and warned him of it and Rhaegar had been ready. It had been some ten or eleven years back since he had last talked about it, Rhaegar seemed to recall, when Ashara's son and his sister were children playing with a wooden sword and a doll respectively. Talks and letters were exchanged, until they had stopped. . . until Bezzaro had seen him bringing the North into the part of his Kingdom again.

"I am talking about peace," Varys was very quick to explain his words. "To save the realm and the people from further wars. A wedding alliance between the North and the South."

"We have no choice but to come to terms with them," the Spider continued. "Wed Princess Daenerys to King Andrew and restore peace. A Targaryen will still rule Winterfell as King. If anyone from the north objects we can point that it was done by the goodwill of the Queen in the North herself. Letters and talks were exchanged in the past and it's reasonable that King Andrew would accept just to honour his mother's memory."

For a moment the solar of the King descended into an ominous silence, the people inside the room all holding their breath in shock and. . . fear. Rhaegar looked at the eunuch with a look so sharp that he could have castrated him all over again. "It seems to me we should all take a lesson from you eunuch. Do you not remember the letter the boy sent me? Do you not know what happened to my son? The day I will make peace with him will be the day the mockery upon my family take hold again just like it was with Eddard Stark until I put an end to him in Starfall."

A smoldering heat had settled over his solar with the fire in his tone and none dared speak for a moment while he burned Varys with his look. "Now get out all of you," the king finally roared. "I have had enough of your squawking for one day."

Eager to get out of there those who say in the council all but ran away from his solar. All except Oberyn who gave him a mocking sweep of a bow with a shady smile and left until he was alone with his wife. His outburst must have frightened even Lyanna, for she was quiet for a long time something which was unusual for her. She barely ever stopped talking in the last few weeks, always worrying about her children and always counseling him how to deal with wars something which had bothered the King very much. The silence was very welcoming to him, especially when it came from her. It reminded him of the first few years of the lives they had spent together with their children.

The silence grew so unbearable that it was finally broken by his wife. "You could have considered about it, Rhaegar," she said.

He chuckled. "Worrying for the life of your brother's son?" he said, looking up at her beautiful grey eyes.

Lyanna stared at him. "I am worrying for my son," she said, shaking her head. "For our son. You said you would protect them and that is exactly not what you are doing."

"You did not worry so much when your brother rose against our family," Rhaegar said. "Why do you fear his son so much?"

For a moment Lyanna Stark looked as if she was lost for words. "This is different," she said at last. "This is not Ned. Not at all him. There is an old saying, leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe."

"Well, take heart from the fact that you did not marry into a family of sheep."

The answer did not satisfy Lyanna. He could see that in her eyes. "If your pride is the price we must pay to have Aegon and Jaehaerys come back safe, we should pay it willingly. Half your lords would defect to Andrew in a heartbeat, like those Reachmen did to Robert. You could still rule Winterfell by your sister and who knows, a year or two from now and Daenerys could even convince her kingly husband to pay homage to her brother."

"Daenerys is betrothed to Willas Tyrell," Rhaegar objected, not wanting to talk about this again.

"Marriage contracts can be broken. What advantage is there in wedding the Princess to the son of Mace Tyrell anymore?" Lyanna asked. "The power of Highgarden is spent. We gain nothing from this marriage. You don't depend upon the support of the Tyrells anymore, Rhaegar. Like you depended upon them when you first became King."

"One might point out to you that the Tyrells are much wealthier than the Starks. And we need their food when winter arrives and it won't be long from now, Bezzaro says."

"You might not survive until winter if you continue to fight the rebels," Lyanna said.

"Are you scared?" Rhaegar asked her. "Besides, how'd you know your nephew would accept to take a Targaryen bride? He wouldn't even bother about it. His mother only even looked into it for the sake of peace."

"Why, for the reason why any young man would want a girl," Lyanna said. "Daenerys is lovely and clever and beddable besides."

Rhaegar scoffed. "If he is anything like his father he would rather spit on the idea."

"Even Ned had his eyes clouded when he met Ashara in Harrenhal."

"You think so?" asked Rhaegar.

"He's of that age. The same age where youths are wont to do things like that."

That amused him. Lyanna had never had any interests in ruling or for such matters. He had been surprised to see her like that. "You think it would work?"

"I can't say for sure, but it would be worth trying," his wife said.

Truth be told, Rhaegar Targaryen could not say that her words were completely false. Men did everything foolishly when they were filled with lust for women. His own brother Viserys had proven that in Starfall. Had he just thought about his head instead of his cock, he would have been here now and none of this would have happened. But that had not been the only stunt his brother had pulled in his want and desires. Even before Starfall Viserys had given the king enough headaches when it came to with women. He had hoped that time might tone him down and sweeten the boy he had been. Viserys had been grateful for the pleasures of life and that had taken him down the path wanting more and just more. There had been an ugly business with Lord Buckwell's daughter in his own castle once which caused a great unrest within the city that the King had to finally intervene with the force of the Gold Cloaks to finally put it down. After that sorry business in Flea Bottom, Rhaegar had tried his best to get Viserys toned down a bit. But his brother had a wildness in him that was a little too much for his sake. And that wildness had sent him off to an early grave. Rest now, little brother, I will avenge you for what Andrew Stark did to you.

"Doubtless you know about ruling and care for your sons better than I do," Lyanna said, aiming to the prophecy they were destined to be fulfilled, "but regardless, there's still much to be said for this marriage which could put an end to the fighting. It may be the only way that your sons might live long enough to fulfill their destiny."

When the king considered it quietly, Lyanna continued. "The match with the Tyrell brings us nothing, not after what has happened with them. Highgarden is battered and bloodied. And we don't depend on them, not anymore with the battle already wrecking havoc across the realm. It is wise to give your sister's hand to Andrew in marriage and you can end the war without any bloodshed."

Lyanna laid a soft hand on the his sleeve. "You know this as much as I do, Rhaegar. kings must learn to put the needs of the realm before their own pride and desires. I say this offer must be made."

The king looked at his wife with restless purple eyes. "You would have me break the word I made to Mace Tyrell?"

There was a sudden anger in Lyanna's eyes and her face darkened. "It wouldn't be the first time you'd be doing it as you very well know, Your grace."

Rhaegar balled up his hands into fists and slammed them on the table. "Be careful of what you speak, my lady," he warned her.

Once the defiance might have amused him, but now it only served to annoy him. Lyanna shrugged as if nothing had happened. "When the Dragonslayer marches up to the gates of King's Landing coming for your head, perhaps then you would be more willing to listen and rue your decisions. Until then, you play your tune and dance for it in the best way, your grace."

"Hold your tongue, my lady," Rhaegar said calmly. "Or I shall have it done for you. I will do all I can do for our family and for the good of the realm. Now that's all I have for you, Lyanna. Good day."

Lyanna looked as if she wanted to argue, but she knew when to give up. She stood up from the chair and walked away from the room briskly.

It was still grey and dark when the meeting finally ended. Rhaegar glanced out the window. Dusk had settled in on the world and the fires had started to flicker through the thick darkness that he could see the orange glow all along the curtain wall across the yard. A few dim lights shone indistinct through that greyness in the far end by the gates. A foul day turned worse with the dark night, he thought. He had to talk to Bezzaro, especially now.

Rhaegar sighed and called in Ser Jon Darry. "Get me Littefinger, Ser," the King said. "At once."

He waited for a few moments until Ser Jonothor returned with Petyr Baelish. Littlefinger had chosen a fresh garb for the night and had already changed the one he had worn for the meeting. Rhaegar thanked his Kingsguard and sent him away.

Petyr Baelish was clad in a blue velvet tunic with puffed sleeves, his silvery cape patterned with mockingbirds.

"Sit down," Rhaegar said and offered a flagon of wine. "Would you like for any refreshments?"

"I don't think I will require any, your grace," he said as he seated himself. "What is that you wish to discuss with me?"

"I need you to go to Braavos and finish Viserys' work that got disrupted by circumstances," Rhaegar said.

Petyr Baelish lifted an eyebrow. "That is a large duty for a man so little as myself, your grace." He gave a sly smile. "But I flatter myself that I am not unskilled in negotiation."

"That is why I am sending you there," Rhaegar said. "King's Landing doesn't lack for gold, but I want the backing of the Iron Bank when the war ends for good."

Rhaegar did not trust Petyr Baelish, nor did he want the man out of his sight where he could betray him in a heartbeat, yet there was other choice was left him. It must be Littlefinger or none at all, and he knew full well that whatever the man may be, he was good at his job and position as the Master of Coin. Had he sent him instead of Viserys in the first place perhaps there would be no need for this now. But he had trusted blood over his vassal and for that choice Viserys had lost his life. "There would be fighting between here and Braavos," he said cautiously. "And you can be past certain that the narrow sea will be crawling with sellsails and pirates and their like."

"I've never been frightened of some pirates. I will make a poor hostage after all," he said, chuckling. "It's the lords and ladies of Westeros who trouble me. Still, I suppose an escort might be in order."

"I can spare a hundred gold cloaks," Rhaegar said.

"And forty more-twenty knights with as many squires. The Braavosi must see that House Targaryen is still the supreme authority in Westeros for them to back us up. If I arrive without a knightly tail, they will think of us to be small account."

That was true enough. "Agreed."

"I'll want my commission in writing. A document that will leave the Iron Bank in no doubt as to my authority, granting me full power to treat with them concerning this business and any other arrangements that might be required, in your own name, Your Grace. It should be signed by your own hand and bear your own seals so that I am not mistaken for some imposter, but am coming on behalf of the true Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."

Rhaegar shifted uncomfortably. "Done. Will that be all? I remind you, there's a long was between here and Braavos."

"I'll be on it before dawn breaks." Littlefinger rose. "I trust that on my return, your grace will see that I am suitably rewarded for my valiant efforts in his cause?"

What are you planning, my lord? "I never forget my friends," he said.

Littlefinger glanced at the King with a sly smile. "I shall need to give that some consideration. No doubt I'll think of something." He sketched an airy bow and took his leave, as casual as if he were off to one of his brothels.

When the Master of Coin left, Rhaegar sat to draw up the documents. He took a parchment and quill, wrote down his words and penned his sign and stamped his sigil and sealed it with black wax. By the time he was done, the red priest was inside his chambers without making any indication of coming inside.

Bezzaro remained beside the brazier, as he did most of the nights. The red priest often rested by day but kept vigil through the dark hours, to tend the flames of his Red God so that the sun might return to them at dawn. Rhaegar walked over to him and warmed his hands against the night's chill. Bezzaro took no notice of him for several moments. He was staring into the flickering flames, lost in some vision. Does he see some other vision yet to come? After a time the priest raised his eyes to meet the king's. "Your Grace," he said, inclining his head in a solemn nod.

"You told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. What do you see in those flames?"

"Dragons," Bezzaro said in the Common Tongue of Westeros. He spoke it very well, with hardly a trace of accent. No doubt that was one reason the high priest Benerro had chosen him to bring the faith of R'hllor to the Lord of Seven Kingdoms. "Dragons old and young. And snow, lots and lots of snow here in this very halls."

"Did you see how long it will take us to finish this war?"

"Soon by my visions, your grace," Bezzaro said. "Winter will be soon upon us and you should get ready to fight the Great Other after this Lord of Winter."

"Have you seen anything else in your fires?" he asked, warily.

"Only other shadows," Bezzaro said. "One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood."