2- Rhaegar
"Arrange a meeting with Lord Stark tomorrow afternoon, please." He told Jon, who squinted his little eyes in return.
"Already? Surely you have more pressing matters."
"What could be more pressing than getting acquainted with my wife's father?"
"She's not your wife." Jon was quick to point out.
"It's most certain she will be by the end of the month. I personally think that if I were to have a daughter, I'd like to know the man she'll marry beforehand, just to reassure myself I won't be sending her off to a cruel fate."
"You really think Lord Stark cares about that?" Arthur asked, standing in a corner, hand on the pommel of a longsword. It was one of the rare days in which he did not carry around the ancestral sword of his house. Rhaegar wondered if maybe there were times in which Arthur found it simply too uncomfortable to carry such a big weapon around if he was not bound to wield it often, or if maybe he had no wish at all for the burden.
"Why wouldn't he?"
He knew his question was stupid. There were plenty of Lords throwing their daughters, mothers and sisters into socially favorable matches without any regard to the character of the groom. The real surprise came when one of those Lords showed hesitance in the face of marital advantage.
Rhaegar knew very little of Lord Stark's character, but he knew that northerners had a reputation of being as cold blooded as their land; and he knew Lord Stark had sought out southern alliances before. He wondered if he would've accepted to wed his daughter to the king. He wished to believe he wouldn't, but doubt crept up on him.
In any case, the objective of the meeting wasn't just to reassure the man that he'd take care of his daughter, but to also begin his slow, arduous process of gaining supporters. He couldn't just lock his father in a room and place the crown upon his head.
"He seems rather detached." Arthur said, head leaning to a side.
Jon scoffed.
"That's a nice way of putting it."
"It matters not. I wish to speak to the man, and making the matter wait would only add further insult to my father's previous one."
Jon shrugged.
"The king only spoke what everyone else was thinking." He said, voice low but condescending. He scrunched up his nose. "I still don't understand why you're so obsessed with marrying the girl. I suppose she's pretty, but what could a Stark have to offer besides snow and stupid tree gods?"
Rhaegar sighed. He had already explained things to him before, in detail and on numerous occasions.
"I know of my father's obsession with valyrian blood, but I happen to believe that the blood of the first men can be just as beneficial to my house."
"The Starks didn't spend thousands of years marrying their siblings, My prince; their blood must be thin."
"I should hope so; too thick and it won't flow."
Rhaegar laughed at his own silly joke, while his friends stared back, expressions blank.
The prince cleared his throat, eyes going down to the parchment on his desk, the tip of his fingers coming to rest gently atop the wood.
"Well, just ask Lord Stark when it could be a good time to meet. Don't make him feel pressured." He told Jon.
Arthur spoke up:
"What about his daughter?"
"What of her?"
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"She's been here over a week already, and you've not been seen around her ever since the welcome feast. Don't you think Lord Stark might feel insulted over that as well? You're ignoring his daughter, your future wife."
Rhaegar frowned.
"Has it been a week already?"
Jon blinked while Oswell snorted from his place in the corner.
"Good gods, Rhaegar."
"I've been busy managing some affairs."
He wasn't lying. His father wouldn't allow him to put much input during the Small Council meetings, so he had been orchestrating small, accidental meetings behind his back with the members of the council. Out of all of them, Maester Pycelle and Tywin Lannister proved to be far trickier to deal with. Rhaegar walked on eggshells around them. He needed their favor, but he didn't trust them. Lord Tywin remained bitter about the fact that his daughter wouldn't be the new Princess of Dragonstone, and Pycelle swayed in whichever direction the lion roared.
"You can't jus-"
"I know, Jon. Now go talk to Lord Stark, please." Rhaegar cut him off before he could begin his lecture on paying closer attention to time. He knew his friend meant well, but his voice was starting to irritate him.
Jon bowed before departing, red hair like a flowing flame after him, clashing horribly with the yellow of his clothes.
"How is she? Have I offended her?"
Arthur looked pensive for a moment.
"I can't really tell. She's either in some dark corner of the library or gossiping with my sister and Lady Catelyn Tully."
Rhaegar felt slightly embarrassed. He had meant to ask Ashara to approach his betrothed, make sure she settled nicely and had a guiding hand in the capital. He had also meant to visit her once or twice, but kept putting it off in favor of some matter of state.
"I suppose I should make some time for her then. There are a few things I would like to inform her about in person."
"I assume you will have the rest of your life to ignore her." Arthur said.
Rhaegar glared at his friend.
"That is not my intention. I know not what the Gods have in store for us, but I think it's worth it to make an effort to tolerate each other, just in case we live long lives."
"How romantic." Oswell said, his tone amused but gaze concerned.
"I'm not marrying for love, Oswell. It is not within my power to do so."
"No, you're just marrying her over an old fairytale you read about on an old blade."
Rhaegar sighed. He had tried to convince his friends of the veracity of Aegon's prophecy, but none had believed him. They did believe that his father was dangerous, especially on that treacherous throne.
He stood up, looking Oswell in the eye, then Arthur. He would show them one day; they would see he was not mad like his ancestors, like his father. He would save them all, and his house name might even be restored to its former glory.
"I understand your hesitance in believing old tales, and I appreciate your willingness to assist me in my mission. I know how much you're both risking, and the price of getting caught is quite high, and I have no right to ask you to continue to aid me. I'd-"
"We will not back down now, Rhaegar." Oswell rolled his eyes and stood up, a deep yawn making its way out. Rhaegar barely managed to contain his own yawn as he watched his friend. "I may believe you to be a superstitious fool, but I also happen to think you'll be a good king, and your father's mind betrays him more each passing day." Oswell smiled. "I will gladly risk mine own life for the good of the realm, or for a good friend."
"As would I." Arthur stepped forward.
Rhaegar watched them fondly, his mind going back some years, when they had all been just boys rolling in the mud, laughing and joking, with little cares in the world.
"I could not ask for more loyal friends." He said, going around the table, arms wide.
Oswell stopped him.
"None of that. I don't want your perfume rubbing off on me."
Rhaegar and Arthur chuckled.
"Go spend some time with Lady Stark." Arhtur said kindly. "Do it before my sister comes to find you."
He had not, in fact, gone to see his future Lady wife. When Jon rushed back to tell Rhaegar that Lord Stark would meet him at the moment, the prince rushed out of his chambers and to the Maidenvault.
He smiled at the courtiers as they walked by him, and he greeted the servants by name as well. Half of them had served his family for many years.
He slowed down as he took a turn and approached the door; he sought only to seem invested in the north, not desperate.
Rickard Stark awaited by a window, looking down with a stern face.
"My Lord, thank you kindly for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I can only imagine how busy you must be these days."
"Not as busy as you, boy, from what I've heard." Lord Rickard replied dryly.
Rhaegar didn't let his expression falter. This was not the same man who had been eager to showcase his loyalty to the crown upon his arrival at the capital.
"Well, yes. I am to inherit the throne, I've been given the honor of stepping up on several royal duties as of late, to try to get used to what awaits."
"You were given the honor? Or did you take it, boy?"
Rhaegar didn't appreciate the way Lord Rickard addressed him. He had thought the man ambitious for a southern alliance.
Maybe he should've expected him to try to play hard, save himself some pride, just like he was trying to do.
"I believe you are a man who has no room for formal pleasantries, so I shall make my case." He almost smiled when Lord Rickard turned to look at him with those cold, storm-like eyes. "I'm aware you've only been in the capital for a few days, but I trust the winds have carried rumors concerning my father's current…mental state up north."
"He's been burning peasants alive, I hear." Lord Rickard said, matter of fact.
Rhaegar nodded, feeling suddenly invaded by the strong smell of burning flesh and the agonizing screams of the innocent.
"I understand that you must be worried for your daughter, but I can assure you that she will always be safe at my side." he tried to convince all the sincerity he was capable of in that statement. He meant his words, but he fretted still.
"I do worry, as much as any father, but Melantha knows when to keep her head down and her mouth shut. I doubt much harm will come to her."
Rhaegar pressed his lips together and frowned. He expected hesitance from Lord Stark now that he was in the south, but then he remembered how the negotiations for Lady Melantha's hand didn't take nearly as much time as the prince had thought it would. Perhaps Lord Stark thought that such eagerness to cooperate would bring him more benefits.
"Still, I would like to provide her with a safe home, My Lord."
Lord Stark narrowed his eyes; color same as his daughter, but far harder and colder.
"And how do you plan to do that, My Prince?"
Rhaegar took a deep breath.
"I understand that you've sought the crown's support before, and I'd be more than willing to grant that if you still look for something of the sort, in exchange of some support, should the need ever arise."
Rhaegar waited with feigned calmness as Lord Stark considered him. The man looked him up and down, assessing his worth. The prince was not fooled by this act. Rickard Stark might pretend he didn't need him now, but it had taken little convincing for him to sell his eldest daughter to the crown, and he had arrived at the capital with such speed one might think he had flown on dragonback from Winterfell. His eldest son was already betrothed to a southerner, and he had a feeling that two southern matches wouldn't be enough for the man.
"Set your terms and I will set mine." he said in the end, taking a seat. "We'll go from there."
Rhaegar smiled.
A/N: Not me having this one ready to post since new year as a present and then completely forgetting about it lol.
So, do we think this conversation is gonna go over well?