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Chapter 27: Treason
By the thanks of the old gods, Prince Aegon's cries began to settle. The gentle swaying of Lyanna's arms acting perfectly to calm him down once his swaddling clothes were changed. "Oh sweet Prince," she murmured, rocking him back and forth. "You love your new muna, just like your father."
Aegon babbled as he snuggled against Lyanna's chest. Such a precious babe… You'll be an amazing big brother. "Perhaps I have one right now in muna's tummy." A Prince of the Realm, son of Crown Prince Rhaegar. Grandson of…
She stilled, the small bit of refuge from being with Egg destroyed. Attacked by my own goodfather. The bruises on her neck were fading, but the aftermath remained. Her own husband plotting to take the throne - plotting treason. Treason. She shook her head of the thoughts before one of Rhaegar being beheaded could destroy her. Lowering herself to the rocking chair, Lyanna just sat there. Egg in her arms, silent…
Only for a pair of arms to wrap around her shoulders. "My love."
Lyanna sighed, slight tension turning to relief and love. "My Prince."
Rhaegar leaned in to kiss her neck - he didn't miss how she first tensed up. "Where are Elia and Rhae?" Given the fact that the hallways were actually quiet, he knew his daughter would be elsewhere.
"Mmmm…" moaned Lyanna, always enjoying his lips on her skin. "They're walking by the beach."
Placing another flurry of kisses upon her neck and cheek, Rhaegar noticed the almost... melancholy underneath Lyanna's sighs and giggles. On the outside, she went by her duties as his loving wife, but he knew just how to read her. Solitary rides, countless time spent with the children, grasping and desperate when we make love… Not that he complained about the latter, but Rhaegar's heart broke at her putting on a facade to hide her pain.
My father… It all laid in the man who called Rhaegar his son - Lyanna on some level blamed herself for what happened to her… no, not it. She had initially, but talks with Elia and passionate kisses all across her body from Rhaegar himself seemed to kill that falsehood. No, what Lyanna's pain referred to had to be worry. Shame at being the cause of his plotting treason against his own family.
I have to get her mind off of it until they arrive from the capitol… let her ease her tension… A grin curled on his face, lights going off in his head. "My love. I think Egg needs his sleep."
Sensing the… resolve in his voice, Lyanna only nodded. "Alright, little pup. Time for your nap." Kissing the chubby cheeked infant, she laid Aegon gingerly in his crib. "Sleep well." Passing her husband to the doorway, her mood couldn't help but improve at Rhaegar's look of love.
Leaving a kiss on Aegon's tiny head, pinching a cheek as his son tried to smack his nose, Rhaegar quickly grabbed Lyanna by the wrist. "You're coming with me."
Her brows knit in confusion. "Where are you taking me?"
"You need to blow off some tension."
She peered at the back of his head, intrigued. It clearly wasn't sex. I'd have been pinned to the wall by now if it was. "And what would that be?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Rhaegar!" Lyanna shouted incredulously. "I want to know."
He gave her a wicked grin, and that moment she forgot about what was bothering her. "I can tell you that it's lucky you didn't change from your riding breeches."
Black hallway after black hallway passed by them. Lyanna tried not to get lost, memorizing each passageway by the various murals etched upon them. Tales of Valyrian history, battles of the great dragonlords focused on House Targaryen. Westerosi have tapestries on their walls sometimes… but nothing like this. Winterfell would have looked amazing with such decorations. Each served as a reference point to keep her way.
"You'll get used to it, your Grace," Barristan said behind her, smiling.
She returned the smile. "Do you happen to know where Rhaegar is taking me?"
"Don't try and pick the brain of my guards," Rhaegar said over his shoulder.
"He's my guard," Lyanna shot back.
A chuckle. "I'll exercise my discretion to remain silent, Princess." Lyanna rolled her eyes at Rhaegar's laugh. Cheeky bastard… but I love him.
Eventually, they emerged in a large central courtyard, almost like the training yard of the Red Keep… Lyanna suddenly caught a sparring sword that Rhaegar tossed at her. "You fight with a longsword, right, Lya?"
Her eyes flickered to the sword and then back to her husband. "Rhaegar, what is this?"
He smirked, assuming his stance. "Assume your stance, Ser Weirwood. Your Prince commands it."
Lip curling into a proper smirk, she twirled the blade in her wrist. I love you so damn much... Half crouching, feet rooted firmly on the ground. "Your move, my Prince."
"Come on, muna!" Rhaenys called from in front of her. "Wanna show kepa the stone I's found!" In her hand she held a lump of glittering dragonglass, found at the maw of a cave leading into the cliff overlooking the beach. She was excited.
"I'm coming, sweetling," Elia called out. Children were delicate, but also resilient. The nightmares that plagued her about what she witnessed with Aerys and Lyanna were starting to diminish, and now that she was back home, Rhaenys' active and energetic self was emerging once again. "She'll be the death of me," she told Oswell.
"Ser Barristan says she's much like her father was at that age."
Her heart caught a little, imagining a tiny Rhaegar with silver curls bouncing as he laughed and played. "I wouldn't doubt it… but I can see much of my brother in her, and that worries me." A regular maneater, Rhaenys will be. "Now, all we need is to find the Prince… you don't happen to know where he is, Ser?"
Oswell shrugged. "He could be anywhere. Would Lady Ellaria or Lady Dacey know?"
"They might, but I haven't seen them since I woke up… Ah, Ser Arthur," Elia called out, thankful for finding someone who would know where her husband and sister-wife were in the absence of both Ladies in Waiting. "Have you happened to see his Grace?"
The Sword of the Morning was not a very good liar, and he didn't try - merely smirking. "Follow me, Princess. Princess Rhaenys. I think you'll enjoy this." A wink to Rhae made her giggle, skipping ahead of the both of them.
A clashing of steel registered in Elia's ears. What could this be? She picked up her pace, matching Arthur's long strides. But Rhaenys was faster than both of them, and had already reached the railing overlooking the training yard. "Muna! Come see!" she jumped up and down excitedly. "It's Kepa and Muna!" It was as if her day was made.
Peeking around for a glimpse, lo and behold Elia witnessed her husband and sister-wife in the midst of a heated sparring session. Sweat soaking their skin and clothing even in the icy chill of Blackwater Bay. "This is what you were smiling of, Arthur?"
The soft-spoken Knight and her childhood friend only winked. "They've been going at it for an hour now. Princess Lyanna loses every set but she refuses to give up." Just as he said, Lyanna clearly was worse for wear, but every setback just brought her howling like a direwolf back into the fight. For Elia it was fascinating to watch...
Attempting to spin a slash, the light blow of steel to her side jolted Lyanna. Losing her footwork and felling her right on her ass. "Owww."
"Dead," Rhaegar announced, glancing down on her with a haughty smirk. "Need some help, Princess?" He was clearly enjoying himself at her expense.
Lyanna rubbed her bruised bottom - and not the pleasurable bruises of their lovemaking. "I need no help from you," she spat petulantly, groaning as she tried and failed to haul herself up. Reddening in the face but her resolve collapsing. "Rhaegar…" Her voice was soft, pleading.
His heart melted. Grabbing her hand and hoisting her up with ease. "You are skilled, my love. I'll give you that."
"And yet I lose to you," she murmured. Her training at Winterfell and actually taking down the squires had made her cocky - Rhaegar's ease at which he outmatched her humbled Lyanna.
"You fight the northern way. More flexible and quick than a southern knight, but still brutish. You can't win brutishly. Know your enemy's weaknesses and then exploit it specifically."
Furrowing her brows, Lyanna nodded. She wasn't ever going to outmatch Rhaegar in strength, so the female Mormont style was the proper counter. Agility, speed, almost graceful in how they handled a sword. I'm trying that and I can't get it… Lyanna realizes that with more training she'd do better, but she wanted to rub that smirk off Rhaegar's face...
"Seems we have an audience," Rhaegar said with a tinge of amusement. She looked where he was and found Arthur, Oswell… and more importantly Elia and Rhaenys. The latter was jumping up and down with excitement while the former was leaning against a black Valyrian column, simply relaxed
"Go muna!" Rhaenys whooped, clapping her hands.
Lyanna blew her a kiss while Rhaegar frowned. "Traitor."
"Kepa, let muna win."
"Yeah kepa," laughed Elia. "Let her win."
"Don't you dare let me win, husband. Do you want to couple with me again?" Her eyes narrowed. He only held her hands up in surrender.
Rhaenys furrowed her brows. "What couple wif muna and kepa?"
Elia glared down at the two of them before turning to Rhaenys. "Sweetling, it means kiss."
She grimaced. "Ewww, now ooglie booglies."
Fighting back giggles, Lyanna moved to her stance again, ignoring the aching in her arm. "This time you lose, Rhaegar."
"Good luck with that," he replied, twirling his sword and lunging.
Lyanna dodged nimbly, swinging her sword at Rhaegar's hip - his blade rose up with a jerk of the wrist, parrying. She gritted her teeth and spun her sword into both hands and struck from above at his shoulder. He parried this assault with ease. Teasing smirk upon his lips feuling her ire. Growling like a wolf, she charged in.
"Wow," Rhaenys gasped. Her eyes were wide, Princess occasionally tugging on her other parent's dress to watch. But Elia needed not any urge to watch… she was entranced by the spar. Her husband's muscles flexing and heaving underneath his skin-tight tunic, hair pulled up in a bun that she just wanted to run her fingers through while he fucked her… but her eyes often drifted to Lyanna. The woman that had taken her husband's heart and yet also brought him and Elia herself closer together… how graceful she was in her attacks. Feelings returning in Elia that she felt every night Rhaenys made them all sleep in the same bed. Fierce, wild, beautiful, desireible. She couldn't tell which was more beautiful… and it stumped her.
Steel clanged against steel in a vicious song between the two lovers. Lyanna felt the fatigue begin to consume, chest heaving and muscles burning under her skin. The cold invigorated her, numbing the pain slightly, but she felt disheartened at Rhaegar's seeming nonchalance on his comely face. Time to end this.
Snarling, she lunged for his stomach. Parried easily, Rhaegar moved to slash at her when Lyanna darted close and brushed his crotch with the back of her hand. Hypersensitive to the touch of his love, Rhaegar stilled for just a moment. She took the opportunity to dart a kiss on his lips before a swipe of her sword knocked his legs out from under him, sending Rhaegar to the ground.
It was her turn to stare down with an arrogant smile. Blade leveled above her husband's heart. "Seems that I am the winner here, Rhaegar Targaryen."
Rhaegar snorted, shaking his head with a crooked smile. "You cheated, Lya."
"Oh?" Lyanna batted her eyes innocently, but didn't remove the sword from pointing at his chest. "And how would I have cheated?"
"You used my desire for you to distract me."
"Didn't you tell me to know your opponent's weaknesses? Aren't I your weakness?" His jaw dropped slightly, causing her to laugh. "See." Still triumphant, Lyanna dropped the sword and held out her hand to help Rhaegar up… only to yelp as he pulled her down on his chest. "What are you doing," she giggled.
He circled her waist. "You are one crafty little wolf, Lyanna Targaryen."
"This surprises you?" she grinned.
"No… just make sure you only work that trick on me."
"Perhaps…" suddenly he kissed her, and all further thought was off the table with a moan.
Once eager to watch, Rhaenys turned away. "Ewww, muna. Oogly booglies!"
Elia laughed - though no one noticed it only reached her eyes. "Come on sweetling, let's get you something to eat." She walked in a daze from the experience, enchanted by both of them. How simply beautiful they were, both apart and together. The thoughts came unbidden, unwanted, thinking of how natural her spouses were in their love. How she had never had such… even now. Would Rhaegar have ever loved me without her…
Would Rhaegar only give me the love she allows him to give… Shameful as the single moment's thought was, Elia at least knew for certain that her worries were baseless. Were they…?
A slight wind blew around the ship as the cold winter's night descended over Blackwater Bay. The hull of the Celtigar carrack kept most of it out, but even still Jon Connington could see his fogged breath. It made for a useful distraction from the loathing he felt for his current companion. "Therefore, my Lord, your services as trial judge will not be required," Rickard told him, a slight triumph in his normally dour, brooding voice.
I'll show you where you can shove your triumph… As befitting a proper Lord of his station, Connington merely quirked a bushy red eyebrow. "I see… and who shall you appoint to be judges in the cases before the King's Justice? I highly doubt even someone as indefatigable as yourself could handle the sheer volume."
There was a slight tensing of Rickard's muscles - inside, it was now Connington that felt triumph at getting under his rival's skin. "No, I am far too busy. We will have a sliding scale of professional magistrates. Pit and Gallows may work for a holdfast or small town, but not for someplace that could fit twelve White Harbors inside of it." No one could accuse Rickard of not being prepared.
But Connington could flesh out his angle. "So I take it you'd be the man appointing these judges?"
"With approval from his Grace, of course." The ever so smug smile on the northerner's face was evident. "Oh, I've decided to take on Tyrion Lannister as one of my aides."
This was shocking. "Dare I ask if this is wise, considering his Grace's feelings to that family?" It seemed too good to be true that Rickard could end up being embroiled in Aerys' delusions about Tywin…
"Tywin blames Tyrion for his wife's death, so I would assume the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"
Cunning bastard. Luckily, they were at his quarters. "I'll forward the names of some qualified lords to sit on tribunals." Not that Rickard would even look at them. "Upon the morrow, Lord Stark."
"Likewise, Lord Connington." It satisfied him so much to shut the door in Rickard Stark's face.
"Oh, if I could be rid of that meddlesome northerner," Connington drolled, yawning. He stretched his arms above his head as he settled down into the rather plain cot for the evening - needing his rest for the journey to Dragonstone. To answer the call of Prince Rhaegar.
Prince Rhaegar…
As Jon pulled the thick blanket over him, his thoughts drifted to the same place as they had the tendency to do. Where they naturally fell ever since he had first laid eyes on the Valyrian beauty of the Crown Prince. Connington couldn't deny the attraction he felt for his friend of years. Someone he would never have, yet one whose orbit he was unable to break away from. Maiden, Mother, why must you torture me so?
Tossing on his side while pulling the sheets over him, as he drifted to sleep, Connington felt his body become aroused as thoughts of the Prince continued to fill his mind. The only refuge for the forbidden, torturous thoughts...
As Connington walked between the columns of the throne room, he noticed the dearth of people. Sun high in the sky, holding court should have been in full swing with lines of petitioners to see the King, but there didn't seem to be anything taking place.
He stopped in his tracks just before the Iron Throne, suddenly spotting Rhaegar sitting pon it. He tapped his fingers impatiently - the ruby and Valyrian steel crown of Aegon the Conqueror on his head. Connington gulped. He looked magnificent.
"What do you want, Lord Hand?" Rhaegar asked sarcastically, finally deigning to look at the man who had appeared before him. "My time cannot be wasted on contrived offal."
"Your Grace…" Jon replied, kneeling in front of the Iron Throne. "My fealty and devotion are yours to weild and command against them."
The newly crowned King's eyebrow rose, pursing his lips. "That does please me, Jon." Him using Connington's given name, he sounded... different, almost sultry. It was electrifying. "With the betrayals of all those close to me, it is gratifying to know someone realizes who I am."
"I know who you are - the Last Dragon, reborn to reclaim the power of your ancestors."
Rhaegar stood up from the chair of swords and walked over to the kneeling man, putting a hand under his chin. "Look at me," Rhaegar said, his voice soft. Jon looked straight into the violet eyes of the King, the same eyes that had enchanted women and men alike. "You have been loyal to me when no one else would."
"You deserved it all and more, my King." What else could he say?
Jon was then suddenly caught off-guard by the feeling of Rhaegar's lips on his. Caught off guard by the ferocious dragon that occupied the throne. Moments passed before he finally responded, kissing him back and grabbing onto the smooth silver hair.
As he pulled back, there was still an intensity in Rhaegar's eyes. Ones Connington had only seen directed at Lyanna or Elia… but now at him. "I've been blind, for too long, my dear Jon."
The words, and the hidden meaning behind them, drove Connington mad with lust. "Your Grace…" His hands instinctively went to places where he had always dreamed of going. "Allow me to show you the depths of my devotion."
A dark smirk clouded Rhaegar's expression before suddenly, he threw Connington at the Iron Throne. Effectively bending him over atop it. "Perhaps I should take what I always should have desired instead?"
"My King, please," he gasped. "I want to know what it feels like." Hearing him come behind, Connington reached out to grasped Rhaegar's length, only to have his arms pinned above him with the King's wrists.
"Keep them there, don't you move," Rhaegar snarled into Jon's ear. "You want this?"
"Yes...please...my lord," Jon breathed heavily. "Please, I need you." At the sound of armor being dropped to the floor, he finally had everything he could ever desire...
A knock on the door startled him away, eyes opening… only to groan as sunlight streamed through the portholes. "Lord Connington?" a flat, musical voice asked.
Still in the shadow of his erotic dreams, Connington groaned. Why must he… shit… Imagining his silver-haired Prince, apparently his seed had spilled sometime in the night. "One moment!" he barked drowsily, rising. Throwing on a new pair of breeches before opening the door. There stood Lord Varys, hands clasped in front of him. "What do you want, Varys?"
"I've come to say we are about to reach Dragonstone's shores." Craning his head to the side, he spotted the soiled trousers on the floor. "Nocturnal release, Lord Hand?"
Connington's eyes narrowed. "Best shut it, eunuch."
"Dreaming about our Prince again?" There was silence. "Don't think I'm not aware of how you feel for him. You say his name in your sleep."
"Did you hear this with your own ears?" The rumor was widely known enough to make concealing it impossible.
"Ears I own," Varys replied calmly. "You play a very dangerous game, Lord Hand."
"Since when did you care about my welfare?"
Varys gestured to be let in, and reluctantly Connington let him. "I've seen you more than you've seen me in the past few weeks… not all times vicariously, mind you. Such intrigues me… especially your dealings with Lord Stark."
An eyebrow rose, face guarded. "And why should that be a surprise? I am the Hand, he is the Master of Laws."
Lies were useless on Varys… he seemed to know all. "Lord Hand, it is obvious that you are a bold man. Not playing the charade of wives and children that most others of your… inclination, are wont to do."
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Varys, now please get to the point." Hearing all of this, it was driving him mad.
"You hold out hope, Lord Hand. Do try and let it go and move on, lest the Realm bleed for it." The Master of Whisperers made his way to the door. "We have less than an hour, so I suggest you rush." Soon the door closed, leaving Connington alone with his thoughts.
With a gentle thud of the closing door, only Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan remained inside the gathering of some of the realm's finest minds and strategists standing around the Painted Table. "Alright," Rhaegar said, standing at the head of the table where Aegon the Conqueror had once stood. "Shall we begin?"
"It would be our honor to do so, our Grace," said Lyanna, taking the space to Rhaegar's right where Queen Visenya had presumably stood. To his left was Elia, her Dornish gown not one likely worn by Rhaenys but otherwise a perfect comparison.
Rhaegar glanced at both of his brides. "Let us be seated." He saw their eyes radiate encouragement, pride even… and just a hint of lust. A smirk played just on the edge of his lips. How many times did Aegon take his wives on this table? How many times will I? Gods, these women would be the death of him. "I presume you wish to know why I summoned all of you here."
"That was our main concern, yes." To the surprise of the royals, it was dour Ned that answered. While hugging his sister warmly, a sense of gloom seemed to radiate about him. Rhaegar suspected it was due to being forced to depart from his family in going back to Winterfell, but when speaking to Lyanna she sensed it was something more. "Does it have something to do with what transpired between his Grace and my sister?"
Catching Lyanna's wince and Elia's sigh, Rhaegar glanced at all the men gathered here. Rickard Stark sat between his son and his daughter, also covered in suppressed anger - Oberyn took a seat beside his sister as well, looking bored. Jon Arryn sat across from his fellow Lord Paramount, uncomfortable and sympathetic, while Varys was as guarded as always. Each was arranged around the table based on their authority… except one…
"While I abhor any assault upon a woman, the Princess is away from danger." Once seeing the besotted Princesses taking the seats close to Rhaegar, Jon Connington sullenly took the far end. Something Rhaegar noticed.
"I appreciate your concern over the injuries my daughter suffered," Rickard replied, dripping with sarcasm.
"Enough." It was the Dornish Princess, voice firm and decisive. "What concerns us is far deeper than even an assault upon the future Queen… or the current Queen by that matter." Jaime had told Arthur, and Arthur had told Rhaegar of the last incident leaving Rhaella with an arm wrapped in bandages. However - based on how those present shifted - the rumors and whispers around the capitol of Rhaella's condition over the years were widespread. Rhaegar's fist clenched together. He had come so close to killing his father over that.
Sensing a lull, Oberyn chimed in. "Alright, the King is scum for treating his family like training dummies." It was clear in his eyes that he hurt like everyone else, but practicality won out over emotion… Elia was frankly impressed. "Can we please get to the point?"
Lyanna continued with Elia's train of thought, but complying with her goodbrother's request. "The King's temperament and sanity have degraded to the point of being a danger to the realm." The guests looked at her as if she was condemning herself to death… which in a manner of speaking she was. Even Varys tucked his lips pensively. "Which is why the Crown Prince has decided to assert his birthright."
It was Jon Arryn that first broke out of his stunned silence. "Surely you don't mean…"
"Yes." No sense in letting it drag. Leaning forward, Rhaegar clasped his hands, resting them flat on the Painted Table. "I am seeking to remove my father from the Throne on the basis of mental competence, and I am calling on each of you for your assistance in this venture."
Mixes of fear and apprehension were on the expressions of all of the guests. All except Connington, who was stone-faced. And… "I'm in."
"Ned, be quiet," Rickard hissed, almost frantic.
"No." Having lost Cersei, likely forever, the pain and the worry for Lyanna simply drove him to a boldness that Robert would have heralded back in the Vale. With Brandon, he understood why he had to be silenced - the brash heir would likely go off unprepared and get them all hurt, but this… "He hurt Lya, father. Who knows when he might start indiscriminately killing?"
"He's already done that," croaked Lord Arryn, his aging face wrinkling. Three Blackfyre Rebellions had occured during his lifetime, and each had come close to shattering the realm. "Ilyn Payne nearly bled to death after Aerys ordered his tongue sliced off. The Darklyns and Hollards…" Traitors that they were, their screams still haunted him. "May the gods damn me, but I agree with Ned. We have no other choice."
Everything descended into chaos after that.
"This is madness!" Rickard cautioned. "We're going to plunge the realm into a war… a war I can't afford for my family to lose." Olenna's comments on Roose Bolton came to mind. If he fell and Brandon was still the impulsive hothead he was, the Boltons would stick the knife into their skin at the earliest possibility.
"Not necessarily, Lord Stark." Varys spoke for the first time. Rhaegar eyed him carefully - it was always an enigma where his loyalty lied. "The songs that have been sung, songs not given to your father, my Prince, indicate many suffer in silence under his rule. They wish for a change, and would only cheer if one occurs most likely."
"Most likely?" Oberyn murmured. "As cavalier as Eddard Stark may be, I don't like those odds. Dorne is no stranger in fighting wars of succession."
Lyanna shot him a poignant look. Elia had strongly vouched for her brother to show up, attesting to his loyalty to her and her family, which included Lyanna now. But the hotheaded Dornish warrior was nowhere to be found and it rankled her. He should be our strongest supporter. "All we need is one long enough to secure King's Landing and the King. A bloodless coup."
"It isn't as easy as you would think, Lya," Rickard warned her, turning to grasp his daughter's hand. "You don't know how the Blackfyre Rebellions ravaged Westeros. Wars, famines, epidemics. All because of a dispute over a throne."
Elia came to her sister-wife's defense. "Daemon was a usurper with no claim after Daeron's ascension. Rhaegar is the Crown Prince and Aerys is not fit to rule." It felt so… freeing to spit out his name for what he really was. "Dorne will rally by his side alongside the North, Riverlands, and Vale." As Lyanna would always tell her, the North Remembered - it was Rhaegar that married the she-wolf.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Lord Arryn warned. "The Kingdoms are too invested in Aerys' rule in some cases."
"The Vale will side with whoever you side behind, Jon," Ned said. "You have to have the willpower to do what needs to be done. You as well, father."
Arryn massaged his temples. "I have no doubt the Northern Lords would support having a Stark sitting beside the Iron Throne, Bolton aside but he's no fool to stab everyone else in the back. The problem is in the other six kingdoms. I've seen this personally in the Vale, though it was far less of an issue than the Riverlands or Westerlands." Gods, all the headaches of the past decade just spewed forth again.
"Much as I would rather pursue the simple pleasures," Oberyn remarked. "My observation of events from afar concurs with Lord Arryn's assessment. Aerys and Tywin were in a dance with each other. How Aerys could torture Tywin just enough to make him wish to resign as Hand and Tywin making sure he had the political clout to prevent that." It was why he initially fought with Doran about Elia's marriage to Rhaegar, considering how King's Landing was a cesspit. While I regret not supporting Rhaegar, I don't regret the rest. "Tywin promptly gave Loren Payne Tarbeck Hall, only for Aerys to hold that up for seven years. Aerys stripping away lands of Lords he didn't like only for Tywin to hand them back, further hurting the Lords and knights that Aerys awarded the land to. Many enemies but also many allies of your father who will not take kindly to it."
"Mace Tyrell first and foremost, if his attempt to marry into the Royal family is jeopardized," Rhaegar sighed.
"You may have to offer him Aegon's hand to his daughter," Rickard said, leading to withering glares from Elia and Lyanna. "I know you want to protect the boy, but this isn't a walk in the gardens."
Still angry at the suggestion, Elia glanced at her husband. "There is another factor to consider. Yes, the perils of Aerys' rule will sway many, but we can't count on Dorne to support you wholeheartedly."
This did surprise Rhaegar. If Elia was pessimistic about her homeland… "Brother, is this true?" He could guess why, but…
A nod from Oberyn confirmed it. "My brother…" There was a time to tell and a time not to tell. Unlike the Starks for instance, Oberyn didn't seek to be an open book, even if he disagreed with Doran upon it. "He doesn't trust you, Rhaegar, to uphold Dornish sovereignty. He takes Maron Martell's decision to not join Westeros without further assurances to be his ideal, and while there are some houses that would support you there are others that would remain neutral."
"Lord Tywin wouldn't support you either." Varys was as dispassionate as could be. "He has suffered the most of any Lord, but the man won't back a losing horse. The songs tell that he is withdrawing to the Rock to seek out his options."
"Perhaps a marriage alliance would calm him? Lure him to our cause?" While most found Ned's comment innocuous and strategic, Lyanna noticed the sudden light in his eyes. The hope. He really has it bad for Cersei Lannister… Then again, it would be perfect...
"This is pointless." Eyes shifted to Connington, having spoken for the first and only time. "Depose the King, crown yourself, and it'll be the end of it. The Lords won't bother contesting a claim if the contest is over before it begins."
"Over?" Rickard glared incredulously. "Listen to me you arrogant buggerer, you may think that the gods alive wouldn't jeopardize your infantile brain, but you're forgetting one thing."
There was murder in Connington's eyes. "And what would that be, my Lord?" he ground out.
"Viserys. As long as he is alive, then Aerys' loyalists have a cause to champion."
"Simple," Connington finished. "Kill the brat."
Rhaegar slammed his fist on the table. "There will be no kinslaying!"
"There may be no other way," Oberyn shrugged. "I don't like it, but from what I've heard, Aerys is poisoning the boy's mind." The Prince looked poignantly at Rhaegar. "He may very well be making him the heir and not you, brother."
"Oh gods… that's just fucking perfect," Rickard moaned. "A war of succession no matter what we do."
Connington groaned. "Of course the Stark tucks tail and runs."
Ned leveled his finger at Connington. "A tourney knight like you wouldn't last five minutes in the North."
"Such a pretty boy. Arthur Dayne slips up and now you think you can play at war. In the game of thrones you win or you die."
"And if it were up to you, Lord Hand, we'd lose starting out," Lyanna hissed.
And such the argument went on and on. Each person belting out various arguments and stratagems - personal insults flung around like Sothyros apes flinging their own feces. Rickard against Connington, Elia against Arryn, Ned against Varys, and the fierce Lyanna against everyone. Eventually, Rhaegar silenced them all. "Enough.!" There was nary another word. "Lord Varys." The bald eunuch looked up. He was the only one who's motivations weren't tattooed on his arm for all to see. Being such an enigma but also a survivor, if he supported something then it carried a certain weight about it. "You are the only one here without anything to truly lose except your life. While I can respect wishing to keep it, I sense that it doesn't motivate you. What does?"
His answer was simple and forthright. "You know where my loyalty stands. You know I will never betray the realm."
Rickard snorted. "And what is that, exactly? I know my realm in the north, and they care not over who sits on the Iron Throne, Stark blood or no."
"Millions of people, many of whom will die if the wrong person sits on that throne. We don't know their names but they deserve to live and laugh in peace just like you or I." He stared at Rhaegar. "Which is why I pledge my loyalty to you, Prince Rhaegar."
Varys' speech carried the day. Ned smacked his hand on the table. "You have my loyalty, brother."
Reaching over to kiss his sister on the cheek, Oberyn drew his dagger and balanced the tip against the table. "As you have mine, goodbrother. But do not ask of me what I cannot do." That drew a resigned nod from the Crown Prince.
"The Vale stands with you, my Prince." He had seen the madness of Aerys up close, heard everything of what had happened to Lyanna. There was no doubt in his mind that it would only get worse.
Blinking, Rickard looked at his daughter. "Lya, are you sure?"
"Yes father, I am."
Pursing his lips, the Warden of the North met Rhaegar's gaze. "The North stands with the Vale behind its Prince." There was one left, but Rhaegar had a feeling that whatever dirty laundry here shouldn't air in public. "We will resume this discussion on the morrow. My Lords, today begins the new dawn of our Seven Kingdoms." As the Lords filed out, he sought out his brides. Hugging them both close.
"Rhaegar." He turned to see Connington approaching, face a dark glower. "May we speak… alone?" His green eyes cast a look upon the two Queens that one might call contemptuous… with a hint of rage.
Elia squeezed his hand, while Lyanna boldly kissed him, glare matching Connington's. Rhaegar merely sighed. "Follow me."
"He worries me," Lyanna told her sister-wife as soon as they were alone in the chamber. "Connington."
"You sense it too?" Rhaegar's best friend aside from Arthur. Fellow squire on the Kingsguard, close for years. "He hated me when I first came to King's Landing. It lessened after a few months, but whenever I was close to Rhaegar, Connington's ire would flare. Almost like… jealousy."
Lyanna blinked. "You think he's a…" she trailed off. "For Rhaegar?"
"Aye, I do." Elia bit her lip. "I don't see him going to Aerys, but that doesn't mean I trust him." The two ladies simply hugged, the emotional torrent of the day finally weighing upon them - gods only knew how Rhaegar was handling it.
They reached Rhaegar's personal solar rather quickly. "Alright, Jon," Rhaegar stated icily - his Stark bride rubbing off on him. He took a seat behind his teak desk. "Start talking." A rising irritation filled him at being second guessed by someone so dear to his heart as Jon Connington
Connington crossed his arms. Expression not of a devoted friend, but of anger... Or something else entirely. "I am merely trying to give you all options as to the potential chaos of what you…"
"Seven fucking hells, Jon!" Rhaegar made a fist to smack against the expensive desk… but refrained. "Don't give me that same bullshit more akin to an drooling supplicant at Court. It's beneath you."
The redheaded Lord and Hand also burned inside. Seething with worry for Rhaegar and anger at those he knew were guiding him on this path. "I don't see," he finally said. "Why would you bother with consulting with me if your mind is already made up… or made for you."
Rhaegar blinked in incredulity. "I know you don't believe that." What had gotten into him? "Jon, we've been friends since I can remember. Gods, we squired together." He knew Connington disliked the Starks, but was he going to break from Rhaegar simply because Lyanna was his wife? "We vowed long before not to hold back our true thoughts."
The Hand's scowl grew harder, not at all concealed by the trimmed red beard. "Fine, my Prince. Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Eyes narrowing in response, Rhaegar leaned back in his chair. "Watch yourself, Jon."
"No, this I have to say." There was no stopping Connington - he wouldn't let his Prince become a Kinslayer. "You really wish to be a usurper? To plunge the realm into more chaos?"
"The realm is already in chaos, Jon. If this works out, then it will be bloodless."
Leaning down, arms splaying over the desk, Connington looked deep into Rhaegar's eyes. Not letting how gorgeous they were soften his resolve. "You know Aerys - he won't give up power easily. Neither he nor his sycophants. It will be bathed in blood."
A sigh. "It's bathed in blood already. He's escalating, Jon, falling deeper into the madness that gripped him since Duskendale." Rhaegar ran a hand down his face. "It brings me nothing but pain to do this, but I have to face the danger that my own father is to the Seven Kingdoms."
"A danger to your wife, rather." Rhaegar's eyes met his, surprised. "That's what this is about, isn't it? What he's done to Lyanna and Elia?"
Rhaegar's eyes narrowed. "Yes, as is my duty. You would know if you had gotten married as I suggested."
And the agony returned - a clenching heart of love unrequited. Connington fought to keep his composure, to refuse to simply give in to his urges and kiss his silver prince. It was something he had kept in check for years… but now it flared with a vengeance. The presence of Elia and Lyanna, both openly lusting for Rhaegar, it burned him in his soul… The Lord of Griffin's Roost felt the insatiable urge to protect his Prince. The man he truly loved, surrounded by so many snakes. And now they control him. The Starks, the Martells, Dayne… his own wives.
"My Prince, I fear your wives are leading you down the ruin of your line."
"You're a fool if you believe that. Just like you're a fool if you think you can speak ill of my brides."
Connington wracked his mind for what Rhaegar could mean. "Wait… you heard my conversation with Pycelle…" Varys, that cunt. "I was worried about what Dorne would think."
"No you weren't. I think you want it to happen, for my brides to betray me."
"And you're blind if you don't see it!' Time to go for broke. "The Dornish infiltrated Daeron II's court and ended up instigating the Blackfyre Rebellions, and now they and the Starks are doing it again!"
He groaned. "This again? You were against my marriage to Elia and now my marriage to Lyanna."
Why can't he fucking see?! "The Starks are idealistic fools. Even in the days of their ferocity, they have no business in the south. And the Martells… If you want to destroy your plan before it happens, you did so with bringing Oberyn."
"Elia trusts him, and I trust her."
"You can't listen to them and plunge the realm into war!"
"The realm will be plunged into war if we don't act!"
A furious shake of the head. "They are destroying you. Turning you against your own family to gain political power through the Princesses! Rhaegar, don't let yourself fall into the seductress' trap when there stand in front of you people that truly lo…"
Rhaegar cut him off before he truly crossed the line, face red with suppressed rage. "You will never refer to either Princess in such a tone, do you understand me?" Connington understood. As dangerous as Tywin or the King himself were to the Realm, Princesses Elia and Lyanna Targaryen were even worse - they held the ear of its one hope.
I failed.
"The plan will move forward." He resumed his seat. "Will I count on your loyalty?"
So close to his dream, yet so different. But Connington's answer was the same. "I am yours to command, my Prince." Slowly he knelt, accepting his place by Rhaegar's side no matter how little it was.
Better to protect him from them from within than fight him from without.
"Well, this has certainly been an interesting turn of events." Ned Stark leaned against the wall of the private promenade of the Lords of Dragonstone, the beautiful expanse of Blackwater Bay laid out before them. Waters sparkling by the red orb of the setting sun. "Are you alright, Lya?"
Staring out at the sea, Lyanna's face was hard. Masking her churning stomach and wild emotions. "We're supporting Rhaegar in his attempt to overthrow his father, the same person that nearly choked me to death in front of my daughter…"
"Elia's daughter, rather," Ned corrected, only to get a withering glare from his sister.
"My daughter." She was in no mood.
A sigh. "Alright, your daughter." He set his hand on the stone railing. "Gods, this relationship you've gotten yourself into confuses me," Ned said, chuckling.
Biting her lip, Lyanna remembered all three of them in the same bed, presumably to comfort Rhaenys… and yet she enjoyed it a little too much. "It confuses me too, sometimes." Wanting to focus on something other than her anger against Aerys, her worry for Rhaegar, and her confusion on Elia, Lyanna settled on her beloved daughter. "But I am certain of Rhaenys, brother. She's as mine as the children of my womb would be."
He placed his hand on her shoulder. "You've always had a good heart, Lya." Starks have always been… different than others. Same as Targaryens. It wasn't too weird for Lyanna to fall for the little Princess. "And Rhaenys is a lovely girl."
"She likes you," Lyanna replied with a smile. "Aside from us and the Queen, no one else has been able to calm her down so well… up to being her uncle?" There was a hopeful glint in her eyes.
To this, Ned laughed. "Would beat having to find out there's a bastard of Brandon's seed out there. I'd love that child too, but it would be awkward." In this, they both agreed. He frowned slightly. "So you're up to this?"
She needed no clarification. "Rhaegar deserves to be King, Aerys doesn't." Lyanna raised her brow. "Are you up to it?"
"I think so."
"Even dealing with Catelyn?"
Ned sighed. "Even with Catelyn… though I'm not happy about it." Another thing in which they both agreed.
"I'd hope to find the both of you here." Lyanna tensed up when Lord Varys strolled in, hands clasped behind his back. His fleshy cheeks were puffed up in a serene smile. One that just almost hid two eyes twinkling calculatingly. "This is a far less awkward encounter than mine with Lord Connington earlier in the day."
The Princess' eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Lord Varys?" She didn't trust this man as far as she could throw him - for different reasons as Connington. The Hand might be disloyal due to his longing for my husband. Elia wasn't the delicate wallflower most assumed her to be. Varys… his motivations and loyalties are as enigmatic as the stars.
Eyes meeting Lyanna's, Varys merely bowed his head in respect. "Given the magnitude of our conspiracy, wouldn't it be prudent for us conspirators to prepare together in the last chance before we must split apart?" Eloquent, drowning moods in the complex word salad. Far more dangerous than someone like Connington.
Ned looked at her for a moment before picking up the proper signals from her reaction - weeks in King's Landing had pretty much gave them a crash course in the machinations of the game of thrones. "Preparations are better made elsewhere than here."
"Quite the contrary, Lord Eddard. I find the sound of the waves upon the cliffs or the wind against the island helps muffle voices." Yet, Varys cocked an eyebrow on the both of them. "Or perhaps it isn't logistical, but mental preparations that must be made?" He bobbed his head slightly. "The removal of a King… even at his worst, Aegon the Unworthy was left on the throne until he rotted away."
"You'll need no mental preparation from me, my Lord." How best to handle this person, Lyanna asked herself? As a member of the royal family now, she'd have to step up and act as a proper wife to Rhaegar… and now, she figured that the best way to discern the Master of Whisperers - someone who made his living in the shadows - was to approach him delicately but directly. "Tell me, Lord Varys, why do you stand with us?"
Varys blinked… a momentary sign that her direct question rocked him. "Lya…" Ned cautioned.
But the eunuch recovered. "No, Lord Stark, it is fine." A soft chuckle. "The future Queen's question is one I can answer. The people of the Realm…"
Lyanna wouldn't let him get away with such a contrived answer - even if it was true, few even in her own circle did the she-wolf know to be so altruistic. Myself, Ned, Elia, Rhaella, and Rhaegar… Everyone else was out for their own interests over all others. "Spare me such droll blather. I want to know why I shouldn't kill you for being a potential threat." Ned's eyes widened. "You alone hold Aerys' ear over all of us - one whisper and we're all hanging from posts. Why should my husband trust you?"
"And you don't trust me, Princess?"
"Honestly, my Lord?" It was Ned. Lyanna's words may have been alien to him in their almost calm viciousness, but her suspicion of Varys had a point. "I wouldn't trust you as far as Lyanna could throw you off the cliffs of Dragonstone. Spies hold no honor."
Surprisingly, Varys merely chuckled. "Bravo, my Lord, your Grace. The Realm will be in good hands with both of you in senior roles." He looked out at the sea, silent until Lyanna attempted to restart the conversation, after which he spoke once more. "When I was young, I traveled the free cities in an acting troupe. One day, a sorcerer approached the master and made an offer he couldn't refuse. The master sold me to the sorcerer, and he gave me a potion that took away my movement and voice. I still felt pain, and such pain was terrible when he sliced off my stem and stones."
Fighting her nausea at the thought, Lyanna knew that simply because this man was a victim of such perfidy didn't mean he wasn't a threat. "And how does this relate to your support of us?"
Varys' eyes sparkled with… something. "He burned my parts in a brazier as part of a magical ritual - of which I still have no idea. I viewed the sorcerer praying in my pain, and in the blue flames a voice clearly answered. But only to me, speaking two words. Only one of those made sense to me at the time, and yet, I think I know now why the fates brought me here. To serve his Grace."
Lyanna crossed her arms. "I'm getting bored already. Please cut to the chase."
Smile curling into a disarming smirk, Varys leaned into Lyanna's ear. "Please tell your bastard bard of the North that I mean him no harm." Even after the Master of Whisperers made his exit, the Princess' eyes were wide as saucers. Not even Ned could pry out what had shocked her so.
The game of thrones had truly begun.
A/N: And it begins ;)
The battle lines are pretty much forming right now. Lord knows where they will end up.
Thanks to Nielsen1984 for help on the chapter, and to my amazing idea man danielsantiago.
Next we have Ned returning to the North... with Catelyn.
