A/N: Red Viper arrives, and Rhaegar and Elia make moves towards a proper marriage.

If you guys like Jon in Essos stories, check out A Jade Dragon by bykim0120. Awesome new fic!

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 19: Red Viper

Knife slicing through the soft flesh, Rhaegar smeared the piece of fish in goat's cheese and brought it to his mouth. "Mmm… delicious catch today."

Across from him in their private dining quarters, Elia nodded. "The fishermen wouldn't dare offend his Grace with subpar food." Too many… cautionary tales for them not to learn such lessons. "Where is Lyanna? Shouldn't she be here?"

"She wanted to be." Since falling into a rhythm with their marriage, Elia and Rhaegar had broken their fast together. Alone and unfiltered with each other. Such was the trust and respect between them. "But Egg has the winds and she's watching him over."

Elia smiled at the thought. "She loves our children."

"That she does." It was… almost fate, he thought. "Your brother shouldn't worry about her seeking to displace them from their birthright."

"He won't. Doran rivals Lord Tywin in protecting the family legacy." He may have a slight point… if not about her, then about the Starks… Elia shook away the ridiculous thoughts. "I think you should worry about our family, husband."

Rhaegar blinked, confused. "What do you… ah." He lowered his head, both feeling a knife stabbing through his chest and the dragonblood boil in his veins. "My father…" When his mother told him of what happened to Lyanna… as a proper husband, all anger left him as he went to her, pulling his beloved into a hug. "He's doing it again."

"The difference being Lyanna has a proper support system. A family that cares for her, a love match that was allowed to blossom." She took a deep breath. "We need to protect her, Rhaegar, now that we are able to…" Unlike with me. Elia didn't blame Rhaegar, and wouldn't broach the subject. If we look back, we are lost… An old Dornish proverb. "She is someone worth protecting… I'm happy she's here, Rhaegar. A breath of fresh air that we all need."

A smile crossed his face, thinking of his Lyanna. "She does make me happy." His mother had said he smiled more in the last moonturn than the entirety of his maturity prior.

Pang in her heart, Elia's voice dropped to a murmur. "Unlike me…" It was unbidden, but seeing Rhaegar so affectionate with the northern beauty stirred the dormant longing.

Rhaegar heard the soft words nonetheless. "What?" Seeing her withdraw into herself, he pressed it. "Tell me, Elia."

She sighed. "I'm glad she gives you the joy I could never give you."

"That's not true." It hurt Rhaegar for her to say that… knowing it had merit, though having nothing to do with her. "You've given me the greatest joys of my life."

"Leave our children out of it," she snapped, in spite of herself. Inhaling deeply, the Dornish Princess calmed herself. "I haven't alone brought you joy, Rhaegar. Our situation wasn't ideal and we got past that but… seeing you with her…" A tear fell from her eye in spite of herself. "Don't change your love for her, but why couldn't we ever…" She trailed off, hating herself for exposing he vulnerability yet again.

Wordlessly standing, he walked to his wife's side. Pulling her quiet yet surprised form up. Brushing away the tears with his thumb - staring at the beautiful olive-tanned face and dark eyes. Rhaegar remembered the moment in their bed, the peace they found in each other's arms.

Love… it is of itself its own duty.

The kiss shocked Elia initially, but she quickly succumbed to her feelings. Finally allowed to be free.

Arrived to inform them of the small council meeting, and show off the giggling Prince Aegon, Lyanna gently backed out at seeing the lover's embrace. "Well, little one," she whispered to the baby. "Looks like our family is whole after all." She was all smiles as she walked down the hallway.


"This is unexpected," Lucerys Velaryon whispered, leaning over in his chair.

Flat expression on his lips, Jon Connington eyed the other members gathered in the Small Council chambers… cautiously. "A royal decree is a royal decree." He scratched the flame red hair framing the handsome face.

"But to call Lord Redwyne as well as myself?" The Master of Ships had finally returned from Braavos, the young Paxter Redwyne having handled matters in his absence. "In all my years serving his Grace, he never called a meeting of all of us."

"That's why I figured there was something important on the agenda… major reforms." His gaze settled on Rickard Stark, the Lord conversing with Lady Lyanna. Eyes narrowing. "Besides, his Grace doesn't involve himself in mundane issues of ruling. Rhaegar called this, and for the life of me the only thing I am sure of is that it involves our northern comrades."

Velaryon, loyal to King Aerys since the day he had been crowned, looked at him incredulously. "You mean the Prince didn't tell you the agenda?"

Connington grimaced, but shrugged. Happened more and more lately. His closest friend was being bewitched by the northerners, he knew it. "Can't be helped, but I am still Hand."

"For now." The Lord of Griffin's Roost had little response to that. Especially as the alpha wolf began chuckling at some japing story the future Princess waylaid to him. Gods, first Elia and now Lyanna.

Once the doors opened, the small council stood. Connington looked forward to drowning his sorrows in his work - and yet, this wouldn't spare the pain. In strode the Crown Prince, the Princess Elia holding his arm. Her smile was one that could illuminate a moonless night as she relaid some story, while Rhaegar's laugh covered his face in a carefree joy Connington had never once seen. One that made him more attractive than ever… When did they patch up?

Leaving a sweet kiss on his lips - as if all their problems had evaporated - Elia moved to a seat directly beside her sister-wife as Rhaegar moved to Lyanna. "Dearest betrothed," he said just as affectionately.

His words caused a flutter in Lyanna's chest. "My Prince." Her sultry whisper was followed with a kiss of passion. Sparks shot out that rendered her breathless. Taking her seat as the others did, she glanced at Elia with a huge smile… one the Princess returned. One happy family.

One that felt to Connington like a shard of ice to the heart.

"Alright," Rhaegar remarked as he took a seat at the head of the table. "Shall we begin?"

"Your Grace," coughed the sputtering Pycelle. For those veteran to court, it was as if the Grand Maester was born a tired, perverted old man. "I must protest the inclusion of these…" He motioned to both Elia and Lyanna.

Brandon Stark, having accompanied his father, slammed his palms against the table. "Watch what you say about my sister."

"Brother," Rhaegar lifted a hand, causing the hotheaded Stark to draw back with a glower. "These… what, Grand Maester?" His anger was cooler, but no less powerful.

"You know your father has prohibited women from sitting on these councils."

"My father has entrusted me from these meetings, and I want my wife and future wife to sit in… so I suggest you shut it." Aside from further sputtering, the Maester complied. Both women looked upon their husband with awe, affection… and just the hint of lust. The blood of the dragon had its allure.

"Anyway, my Lord goodfather requested this session of the Small Council to detail a proposal of his regarding the system of justice." And there it is. Connington leaned forward, eyes on Rickard and ears perked. He had a feeling he wouldn't want to miss anything.

Clearing his throat, Rickard nodded. "Aye, but first I'd like to mention word I received from Lord Commander Qorgyle at Castle Black." Being the Wardens of the North, House Stark usually had the best relations with the Night's Watch. "Seems the wildlings are banding together."

"Pish," Connington said dismissively. "Wildlings never form together. They're barbarians."

"They're First Men, blood the same as I… only purer."

A chuckle. "My point exactly, Stark." There was a terse silence.

While Lyanna didn't take kindly to Connington's statement, she clearly wished to move on for her beloved's sake. "The histories tell of Wildlings banding together during times of great danger or sorrow… who are they following?"

"A Watch deserter, one Mance Rayder. Apparently Qorgyle found the Frostfangs and the Burned Men have already pledged to his banner, so to speak."

Rhaegar nodded. "Mace, did your forces take down that massive bandit brotherhood?"

Lord Tyrell blinked. "Yes, your Grace. Fifty prisoners set to hang."

"Take them and two granaries of wheat and ship them to Eastwatch. I'll empty the cells here and throw in five hundred swords and spears for the Watch."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Rickard replied. Beaming, Lyanna caressed his knee in thanks. You'll be a wise, just King my love. "On something closer to home, I have completed my review of the current system of the King's Justice and found it incredibly lacking."

Ah, that's what this is about… "I'm not sure what Lord Stark has found lacking. All major crimes are adjudicated through three judges handpicked by myself. They are fair and efficient." Since Lord Mooton's senility and death, the King's Justice rested on his shoulders.

"The concern I have is related to consistency, not integrity. Various decisions by the judges do not match either rulings in previous cases before the King's Justice, but also fly in the face of local customs of the Seven Kingdoms. I believe we must develop a uniform body of law to dispense with the King's Justice, rooted in both precedent and local custom."

"Such is impossible. The records alone would be impossible to maintain." The Starks will not take away my authority here.

But Rickard knew his background. "Archmaester Ebrose and an Acolyte of his by the name of Qyburn have created a system of paper and parchment making that render each far cheaper to produce. We can prepare the proper records, your Grace."

"I agree," Rhaegar said. "You may go about your changes, but slowly. I do not want a disruption in the King's Justice."

Connington couldn't believe what he was hearing. "My Prince, I argue against making such changes to tradition. In the chaotic atmosphere of the current times…"

"Chaotic atmosphere?" Rhaegar's violet eyes darkened. "Watch yourself, Lord Jon. I would think the Dornish would approve of more consideration for their local customs." Piping down, Connington realized he had lost this fight.

"My Lords," said Lyanna, interjecting. "There is a particular matter I wish to discuss."

"Go on, my Lady," Rhaegar replied, rather quickly after Lyanna spoke.

Smiling at him, Lyanna looked at Elia who nodded. United front? "Princess Elia and I have made trips into the city under our official banner. Making a tour of the various institutions owned by the Crown and the Faith…"

"That is a breach of protocol," stated Lord Merrywether. "No Queen should debase themselves by meeting with dirty smallfolk."

"This journey among our people was necessary, my Lord," said Elia, voice biting. "If we hadn't done so, then the sorry state of our city's infrastructure would have continued to be ignored."

Lyanna nodded. "The Crown orphanage is dilapidated and relying on private alms to merely keep its wards fed and warm. And as you can smell, our city is filthy. There is little fresh water other than a smattering of wells."

"All cities suffer from such," Connington pointed out. Lannisport had the same noxious smell - though far from the level of King's Landing.

"White Harbor does not, largely due to the competent administration of Houses Manderly and Stark." Lyanna crossed her arms. "As such, I propose we seek coin from the treasury in order to not only conduct proper upkeep, but to also construct several aqueducts to bring in fresh water from the Kingswood and Storm Mountains."

Mace Tyrell looked at the two Princesses with his ruddy eyes, seeing their seriousness. "We don't have coin for such expenditures."

Elia narrowed her own eyes. "There's plenty of bullion in gold and silver - the crown mint hasn't issued new coin in a decade… the forges and molds can be fired up once more, Lord Tyrell."

As the Princess and soon to be Princess continued prattling with Mace Tyrell, Connington's gaze shifted to Rhaegar. His best friend, childhood companion, training strenuously in the yard and hunting in the Kingswood together. The most beautiful man I've ever seen… In all honesty, the Hand of the King knew from the moment he laid eyes on the Crown Prince what his feelings were. Unrequited, but no less strong.

When he was simply brooding and quiet - even after the marriage to Elia - Connington could imagine even a secret fulfillment of his deepest desires. But now, Rhaegar stared at his betrothed with the same adoration that Connington saved for him. And even worse still, his gaze at his current wife had a hint of deep affection, more than the Hand had ever seen before. It felt like a knife to the heart.

But his eyes then fell on Lord Stark. Even as his daughter spoke, roping in even Pycelle into the discussion, the Lord of Winterfell only had eyes for Connington. Grey steel hard with… contempt. And Connington's blues only stared back, just as hard.

The entire meeting found itself interrupted as Captain Alliser Thorne of the Household Guard - a tough if enthusiastic professional soldier - entered the chambers. "Forgive me, my Lords, my Prince, Princesses." He bowed at Rhaegar and both ladies. "Prince Oberyn Martell is at the gates."

Face falling, Rhaegar looked at Elia. The Dornishwoman was equally guarded and worried. "Is he among them?"

Thorne shook his head. "No. A rather foul-mouthed bastard girl told me to… um… 'milk a snake's tit' when I demanded his whereabouts."

Rickard Stark hid a smirk, Lyanna giggling softly, while Brandon Stark didn't even bother to hide his amusement. Barbarians. The Crown Prince and Princess kept their composure. "Well, if I know my goodbrother, I know exactly where he'll be." Rhaegar sighed. "Thorne, prepare my horse."

"No." Violet eyes found Elia. "It's best if I do this alone."

"Anything problematic?" Lyanna asked.

Elia gave her a small smile. "Nothing I can't handle, but my brother… can surprise." Understatement of the week.


Cowl draped over her dark locks, Princess Elia wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent of perfume that filled the air. It practically seeped through her skin. "I don't like this, Princess," Ser Oswell said under his breath. As with her dark orange cloak and cowl, he wore the simple armor of a hedge knight. Blending into the crowds, while three gold dragons bought the silence of the proprietor. "Must we meet him here?"

"Red walls have ears, Ser Oswell," she whispered back, halting as a bare-chested whore passed them. Eyes undressing both newcomers with thinly-veiled lust. Yes, his favorite type of place. "Better to get this out of the way…" More lustful stares, though it would definitely have been greater had they known she was the Crown Princess. Best that they avoid the same crowds as before.

Oswell nodded. "Good point, your Grace."

While the main sanctum where the girls put themselves on display for the highborn clients, the innards of the brothel was far less garish. Ser Oswell wordlessly stood guard at the door while Elia entered. Immediately hearing female moans. She smirked. Never change, brother.

Resting atop a large, circular bed were three nubile figures. Two engaged in a torrid embrace, while an equally nude whore flashed goo-goo eyes at a yet unseen entity. "Come back to bed, my Prince."

A throaty laugh responded, one Elia recognized instantly even after all these years. "I have a pressing engagement at the Red Keep, my lovelies. But I'll be back. Court… tends to be boring."

"I resent that," Elia finally made herself known, stepping into the well of the large room. Finding the - thankfully clothed - form of her beloved brother. "The Red Keep includes me, and I thought my brother found my company delightful."

The nude whores scrambled to fall on their knees, while Oberyn's eyes lit up with happiness. "You're dismissed," he said flatly. "Go." Picking up their clothes, skimpy that they were, soon the two of them were alone. "Elia…" Lighter-skinned than most salty Dornish - a trait he shared with Elia, while Doran was a shade swarthier - Oberyn's accent was a heavy lilt. "Couldn't even wait to see me, could you."

Crossing her arms, Elia looked him over. "Why am I not surprised to see you here, baby brother?"

"Ah," he leveled a finger at her, chuckling. "I am older than you by two years." He was clad in loose princely tunic and trousers, a gentle gold rather than the burnt orange Elia favored.

"If you acted older than five and ten, then perhaps I'd treat you such." She clicked her tongue. "What would mother say?"

Another laugh. "Given what she and father enjoyed, I doubt she would have any reason to complain." He made his way to a series of decanters, skipping the wine for a glass of Dornish apple juice. Merry in his wine, women - or men - and song, the Prince of Dorne was smart enough to imbibe his drink sparingly. "But if she was, she'd be proud I have clothes on this time." His resulting smile could light up the room.

Elia rolled her eyes, cringing. "I've lost count of the times I've seen your stones and stick, Oberyn."

Oberyn gave her a cheeky smirk. "One could think that after becoming a Targaryen, you'd lose your disapproval in that sort of thing," he said, flirtily.

Eyes narrowing, Elia ended up punching him hard in the shoulder. "Shut it." Rubbing his afflicted shoulder, Oberyn stared at her for what seemed like minutes before they suddenly laughed uproariously. Unable to keep it up, Elia threw her arms around him. "Oh, brother, I missed you."

"Even my roguish charm?" he asked.

"Especially that. Always did make me laugh." Their embrace was tight, close since their childhood in the Water Gardens - coincidentally, the only times she ever remembered fondly. "I couldn't wait to see you again. Why didn't you send word? I had to hear it from Lord Varys."

The Prince cocked an eyebrow. "Never trust a eunuch. I've found the ones I know to be very… bitter people. But alas, my lover of the voyage was needing to sail to the Driftmark before nightfall, so I had to burn out my energies somewhere." The carefree, sultry expression suddenly hardened. "Best I do that, lest I snap and kill that cunt of a husband of yours."

Sighing, Elia motioned to the bed. "Doran sent you, didn't he?" She kept her hands in her lap.

Oberyn slipped onto the bed beside her, crossing his arms. "I didn't need our brother's order to come here, sister. Not when you're being dishonored before my very eyes."

"You realize none of this is Rhaegar's fault?" Glancing over her shoulder on instinct, the Princess' voice lowered. "His Grace made the order for betrothal. And he refuses to set me aside."

"But does Rhaegar desire this marriage to the Stark girl?" Elia didn't answer. Eyes falling to the ground. "That's what I thought."

"He's a good man, Oberyn. He deserves to have some happiness…"

He scoffed. "And you don't? What happens when the Starks convince him to set aside Rhaenys and Aegon in favor of his bastards from Lyanna?"

From her glare, that crossed the line for Elia. "The only person I've seen that cared for my children more than Lyanna is myself, Rhaegar, and the Queen."

"Might you think she's pulling some sort of mummery?" Oberyn was no stranger to such in his travels. "Fooling everyone?"

This did cross her mind in frantic nights of worry since Rhaegar told her of the King's decision, but seeing Lyanna holding Rhaenys - seeing how affectionate and loving the northerner was without any airs… "I don't think Lyanna would do such a thing, and I know Rhaegar would never dishonor me. Aegon never dishonored either of his sister-wives."

"That's not what the histories say."

"The histories are wrong."

There was silence, the only sound being their breathing. "Well, forgive me for wanting to see it for myself." Elia let out a breath she had been holding. It was a start.


"Authorization to mint one hundred thousand gold dragons?" Lyanna shook her head, eyebrows knit together in frustration. "This is a travesty."

Hand resting on the small of her back, Rhaegar rubbed her spine gently with his thumb. "Calm down, love." She looked just as breathtaking in the light blue gown of the south. Hopefully spring will bring warmer weather. Heat brought outfits with more skin. "That's five times the last allotment the small council has allowed in three years."

Lyanna looked at him incredulously. "One aqueduct alone would cost double that. Not to mention the repairs needed for the orphanage and public baths." Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan trailed several paces behind. "I'll be lucky to simply build half of one."

"You've put a lot of thought into this, Lya."

"Wouldn't you?" She looked up at him, looking forward to simply relax with her beloved. "I'm going to be your Queen, and you trust me to be unchained…" Her eyes sparkled with love. "I have to prove that I can repay your trust in me."

Without saying a word, Rhaegar leaned in and kissed her. It was sweet, short but pouring with affection and appreciation. "I love you."

Her smile was wide. "I love you too." She pursed her lips. "I don't think Connington approves of me."

"He's in a power play with your father, I believe. I'll try and smooth it over, give him some additional authority in other places."

She nodded as they turned the corner into their solar. "Good… and perhaps after mine and Elia's projects are underway I can convince Lord Tyrell to…"

Her words were cut off by a sudden scream… one that erupted from her own throat as a sharp kick sent Rhaegar slamming back-first into the wall. Sharp bronze spearpoint leveled right at his neck. "Greetings, goodbrother," said a tall, fit man with olive skin and a seductive Dornish accent. "Didn't think I'd come after you, huh?"

"Oberyn!" Having sprang up from the couch, Elia looked like she was going to explode with rage. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Let my husband go!" All around, the four Kingsguards had drawn their weapons.

"Can't do that, sister." Oberyn turned, cocking a quirky look right at the Crown Prince. "Not until Rhaegar realizes how displeased I am in his conduct towards you."

Gulping… Rhaegar almost felt the spearpoint pressed close to his neck. "Goodbrother… It's not what you… ulg… think."

"Put down the spear, Prince Oberyn," Arthur demanded, twirling his two swords and readying an attack. "Don't make me kill you."

Oberyn was less than amused. "Oh fuck off with that heroic shit, Arthur. I just wanna talk to him." He knew the Sword of the Morning wouldn't attack his childhood companion. "You really don't want to know what I think, Rhaegar. You really don't…"

Suddenly, another gasp left Elia when the Dornishman felt cold steel pressing against his own neck. "I suggest you obey Ser Arthur." The new voice was that of the Lady Lyanna, grip tight over the dagger ready to cut Oberyn's throat. "House Bolton isn't the only northern house whos blades are sharp."

Trying not to move too much, Oberyn swiveled his eyes to look upon the woman threatening him. "Is that my knife?"

"Was actually quite easy to remove from your belt," Lyanna responded flatly, voice hard.

He looked back at Rhaegar. "Is this your new bride?"

Pursing his lips, Rhaegar nodded the best he could. "Aye, this is Lyanna Stark."

There were a few seconds of silence before Oberyn grinned. "Oh, I like her. She has spunk." Spear retracted back to his side, the solar was soon filled with the scraping of steel against scabbards. "First person to get the jump on me."

"The family has a talent for it," Rhaegar said, rubbing his neck. "Her brother Eddard defeated Ser Arthur in a spar."

Now this surprised Oberyn. "Don't jape me on that." It was as if two brothers were bantering at this point - Lyanna figured it was a Dornish thing… or a Targaryen thing. Who am I kidding? My brothers act just like that. "Arthur?" The kingsguard nodded, eyeing Oberyn suspiciously even though they were childhood friends. "Well shit, I better meet him." Quickly taking a seat, Oberyn crossed his legs and waited for things to settle. "One can ascertain why I am skeptical of this entire thing, correct?"

Elia placed a hand on his knee. "Brother… I…"

"Doran made me swear to ask you about Aegon and Rhaenys. They better still hold their superior place in the succession, though he's more worried about it than myself."

Rhaegar could answer that easily. "Lyanna and I have spoken about it, and she doesn't wish to contest that." The two of them joined hands, while Lyanna's kind eyes found Elia's. None of which escaped Oberyn's notice. "She loves those children."

"Hmmm… I find that hard to believe."

"Prince Oberyn." Lyanna's voice was kind, but firm. "Those precious children… it's hard not to love them. And I do, very much so… just like their father."

She seems genuine. "That goes into my major concern." Oberyn was not going to mince words here. Laying all the cyvasse pieces on the board, this would give him a feel for how he would conduct his more thorough observations later. "Dishonoring my sister. His Grace's idea or no…"

"He sleeps in her bed." Eyes found Lyanna, many wide with shock. But she didn't back down - honestly, it didn't bother her. Only Elia would she allow in such a position, and while any other would stoke jealousy and anger, imagining the olive-skinned beauty in… Lyanna hid her blush. "My betrothed has shared a bed with his current wife ever since arriving in King's Landing, with my encouragement."

Pursing his lips, Oberyn looked at either royal, looking for a tell. Then at Arthur. "This true?"

Arthur nodded. "Every night, Oberyn. I wouldn't lie."

"No you wouldn't… yet…"

"There is no yet, brother." It was Elia that spoke now. "I know you worry for me, but considering your habits you can't come out with the default conclusion that this is dishonoring of me."

At that moment, the click of wooden soled sandals upon the stone floor filled the room as Ellaria entered. "Your Grace." He curtseyed to the three royals. "The cooks have said that the feast shall be prepared by the time the sun sets, and whether you wish that Princess Rhaenys and Prince Viserys dine with…" She fell mute at seeing the newcomer.

Oberyn quirked an eyebrow. Raking over the new arrival from her hair to her ankles. "Sister, who is this?"

Of course this happens. An amused glint in Lyanna's eyes, Elia sighed. "This is Ellaria Sand, my Lady in Waiting."

"Oh, so you're the famous Ellaria Sand?" Standing, Oberyn approached the now quiet woman. For once, she said nothing - seemingly starstruck. "Lord Uller's daughter?"

Her lip quivered, rendered nearly mute as the handsome Dornish Prince rapidly approached. "Uh… yes, my Prince," she croaked. Despite herself, Elia bit back a laugh. It was just so precious. "And you are Prince Oberyn?"

He chuckled. "Your arrow has pierced true." Oberyn was now only inches away from her sultry form in the dark red wrap of a dress, slitted to expose her midriff in a sort of diamond shape. "I could tell you were of Hellholt - you look like your father… only far prettier."

Ellaria giggled… giggled! "No one would call my father pretty, so perhaps you speak correctly."

Nodding, Oberyn's eyes sparkled before turning to his sister. "Well, this about covers everything. I won't kill you, Rhaegar… for now at least. Just don't do anything foolish."

"Wouldn't dream of it, goodbrother," Rhaegar replied, not bothering to turn around. He would rather not see Oberyn wantonly eye-fucking the equally wanton Ellaria.

"And it was wonderful to meet you, Lady Lyanna," he bowed, drawing a smile from her. "Sister, would you mind if I dropped in on my niece and nephew."

Elia saw nothing wrong with that. "Certainly." Her lips curved into a tiny smirk. "Ellaria can escort you."

"I can…?" she almost yipped, only to compose herself. "Yes, I can. And the cooks…"

"Tell them to set a plate for both my daughter and brother," Rhaegar saved her further words at a shockingly high pitch.

Oberyn offered his hand. "Lead the way, my dear." She slowly looped her arm in his, letting herself guide the Prince to the nursery wing.

Suddenly, Rhaegar let out a laugh once they were gone. "He finally met his match."

"More like she met hers," Lyanna countered, laughing as well. "Was that how I looked when we met?"

"You were worse than that." He grinned even when she smacked him with a cushion.

Letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, Elia felt relieved. "That went far better than I thought it would… though Oberyn would be the most likely to support this. Doran… he'll need more assurances on the succession issue just to stay quiet."

"I don't intend on depriving Aegon of his birthright," Lyanna said firmly. "I said it before and I'll shout it from the Sept of Baelor if I have to."

"Optics, Lyanna, optics." The fatigue of the day was getting to her. "This can all be discussed later. Perhaps the Prince would like to escort us to dinner."

Rhaegar smiled. "It's still an hour or so till sundown."

"The gardens then," Lyanna said. "I'd love to see the winter roses in bloom." Both beautiful women looking at him, how could he say no?


Having witnessed much in his young but eventful life, Lord Varys didn't bat an eye at the haggard appearance of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, wild glint in his eyes. Ready to hear the words of his Master of Whisperers. "What have you to say, Lord Varys."

Bowing low, the eunuch didn't flinch at the King's condition. He was too valuable to worry, and too smart to put himself in trouble. "Interesting whispers from my birds, your Grace."

"Well? Plots? Another Faith Militant Rebellion? Some Blackfyre brat we missed?" It heartened Varys for how his King understood what threats could materialize. "Those prelude the Doom, you know." Then again, maybe not.

"Nothing that serious, sire. Just… Mace Tyrell has authorized a minting of one hundred thousand gold dragons." He was careful on what information he disclosed. Any man would notice an entire cyvasse piece hidden in the folds of one's robe, but one or two pieces could disappear undetected.

Confusion in the King's glittering eyes. "What? I never authorized this?"

"His Grace, the Crown Prince made the authorization."

"Oh." Aerys scoffed. "Probably wants to pay for a bigger wedding. A hundred thousand dragons is nothing."

Forgive me, my Prince. "Such payment is for a project spearheaded by the two Princesses, Elia and Lyanna. They have been authorized to manage all expenditures of said coin."

Eyebrow raised, the King leaned in. "What are you talking about, eunuch? Those two are weak women." I thought I squashed that bug a while ago. Elia was beaten down and Lyanna was on her way there.

He had to gauge his words carefully. "Northerners are stubborn, your Grace. From what the birds sing, Elia is emerging once more as a favorite of your son, Prince Rhaegar growing closer to her once more."

"That little slut." Aerys slammed his fist on the arm of the throne. "I always knew my son was weak. Swayed by the pleasures of the flesh like his addled uncle."

Nodding, Varys said nothing. Hoping that this report wouldn't cause more pain. "The Lady Lyanna, your Grace. She seems desirous that the Prince get along with Princess Elia."

"Why? What's it to her?"

"My birds don't say that, but not only is she pushing them closer together, but also she is seeking a close relationship with Elia."

Aerys snorted. "Over my corpse does a Dornish slut or a glorified Wildling get control over my domain - Daeron II and my own weak father let their bitches walk all over them and look what happened." Even in his increasing madness, Aerys was proud of how he culled Elia Martell's seductive control over his son before it even happened. Now Lyanna Stark threatened to ruin it. "This is Tywin's doing, I just know it!"

"Lord Tywin has not left the guest manse since he arrived, your Grace."

"That…" Stark… Stark… the same First Man blood as Jenny had… Ah fuck. Aerys' fists tightened, sharp nails cutting his skin. "I should have been more fucking cautious, and look where this balderdash gets me." It was already too late to pull anything before the wedding. "If Tywin sees anything, he'll just swoop in with his maeges and fuck with me."

Varys blinked. "Your Grace, the maeges and mystics are in your employ as you instructed me…"

"Get out. I need to think." Varys complied, leaving the King alone with his jumbled thoughts. That northern barbarian will learn her place. Rhaegar was his son. His.

I won't let Jenny get him from beyond the grave…

"Ghost of High Heart… Champion will ride…"

A cold sweat formed on his forehead. Could the Stark bitch be… No, impossible. Even Jenny couldn't turn a woman into a powerful knight… Head throbbing, Aerys rose. Disappearing back into his sanctum to let his eggs calm him.

A/N: Everyone knows that Oberyn would do something like that XD

I get people would think Elia and Rhaegar are moving a bit fast, but they are married and were very close and caring for each other before Lyanna came in. It makes sense to jump into a sort of honeymoon phase, especially when they have been secretly wanting to for years. Still gonna be a slow burn.

Connington... he must know Rhaegar won't return his feelings, but seeing him happy with his brides is still painful.

Aerys is still a jerk.

Next up, Ned and Cersei meet again.