I am so, so sorry about the wait. It's my last year of my undergrad and things are hectic.
To answer the questions: Robert's dead so it's easier to put all the blame on him. Yes, Jon Arryn called the banners, and Rickard and Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing and Aerys murdered them. They could also put all the blame on Rhaegar and Lyanna (like Aegon does), but they're the king and queen and alive so it doesn't seem like a viable option for most of them. Remember, they say it's all Robert's fault, but that might not be what they're thinking. Also, Renly and the rest were so young, they grew up with hearing it was Robert's fault that they believe it was.
As for the Dornish, they're very, very patient. Rhaegar might think they've soothed Dornish rage by making Doran the Hand, but that's not quite enough. Aegon and Rhaenys are Elia's children, so they're not in any danger, but they still blame Rhaegar for running off with Lyanna, and leaving Elia unprotected. Tywin was executed, Jaime's at the Wall, and Cersei's essentially their hostage, so they're not going to kick up a fuss. Yet. Let's just say the Dornish plot will become clear later on.
With regards to Arya, she can't get a job not because she's a girl, per se, but because she's some random Westerosi and there's a language barrier and they think she's pulling a prank on them, so far.
KING'S LANDING
It's strangely quiet in the Red Keep. Most of the wedding guests have already left, and even Aegon is set to leave in two days for Highgarden. A gift to his lady wife.
Rhaegar sighs and goes through the letters in his solar. Rhaenys and Dany are probably on the ship leaving for Dorne from Storm's End. They're likely to reach Sunspear by the end of the week. Lyanna and Jon are headed North (at the rate they're travelling, they've likely reached Harrenhal and they'll be on the road for at least three more weeks), and the knowledge that they chose Ned Stark over him grates at his nerves. He does not begrudge Lyanna the love she holds for her family, but he is her family too, is he not? He thought things would get easier after twenty years of marriage, but he was wrong.
The Lyanna that came back from the Tower of Joy is not the same Lyanna he had crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty at Harrenhal. With baby Jon in her arms and Lord Stark as her escort, she came back to him, her face paler than before and the glossy sheen of her hair gone. There was a light gone from her eyes, but it slowly came back whenever she looked at Jon.
He knows the guilt eats away at her every day. When she learned of Elia's death she locked herself in her chambers refusing to be seen, as she had when she learned of Lord Rickard's and Brandon's deaths. When he finally tried to speak to her the following day, she glared at him.
"You should have sent her with me. Her and the children," she glared at him coldly, "or you should have never crowned me at all. Why didn't you leave me be?"
Father. Brandon. Elia, she would murmur at times, almost unconsciously. Lyanna had been fond of Elia, and Elia of Lyanna. The Dornish Princess was not too keen on Rhaegar taking a second wife, but for the third head of the dragon, she accepted the arrangement.
Rhaegar did not think his father would keep Elia and the children hostage. He did not think false news of Robert's victory would reach that goddamn Tywin Lannister. He murdered an innocent woman all to show fealty to the presumed new king. He fears they would have killed Aegon and Rhaenys as well, had he not stormed into the Red Keep to see the Kingslayer sitting on the Iron Throne, Aerys dead at his feet. Rhaegar didn't have enough time to deal with the Lannister child at the time, and instead ran to find Elia. He was too late, and the Mountain and his aids were executed. Varys had thankfully hidden the children away, but hadn't thought to take Elia as well. Sweet, good-natured, wonderful Elia. Lannister claimed that Aerys would have set wildfire on the entire city, burning it to the ground, and Rhaegar knows deep down that is the truth of the matter. He still had to punish the Kingslayer, and so to the Wall it was. His father was mad, and he fears he too has the same madness in him.
Rhaegar shakes his head, trying to focus on the letters. There's one from Lord Commander Mormont about needing more men to man the Wall, in anticipation of a wildling attack. He scowls. Perhaps he should let the honorable Eddard Stark take care of that. After all, if the wildlings succeed it will be the North that suffers the most, that is, until those heathens make their way south. It is unfair of him to dislike his goodbrother, but Rhaegar's own son favors his uncle more than him. That's unfair.
There are dozens of prisoners in the cells, but that is not enough to sate the Lord Commander's request for men. Rhaegar makes a note to round up the prisoners, then moves on to other matters.
En route to Dorne
"Did you enjoy the weddings, Myrcella?" Arianne asks conversationally. She's stuck in on a boat with Daenerys, Rhaenys, Ellaria, Cersei and Myrcella so she may as well try to make it a pleasant journey.
"Very much so," Myrcella answers demurely.
"I'm sure you enjoyed young Bran Stark's company," Arianne grins wickedly.
Myrcella blushes, and Cersei levels a glare at her niece through marriage.
"And you seemed to enjoy Prince Viserys's comapy," she bites coldly.
"Yes, I did. A Targaryen Prince and a Dornish Princess, quite a pair, don't you think?" Arianne says nonchalantly. One of her great-grandmothers is a Targaryen. Martells and Targaryens have been allying themselves with each other for hundreds of years. Pity the last marriage didn't end well. Arianne's expression sours at the thought. She expected vengeance from her father, or Uncle Oberyn at least, but nothing. Her father is Hand to Rhaegar, fair enough, and her poor uncle is saddled with the Lannister bitch. Thank goodness Myrcella is so good-natured.
"Tell that to Princess Elia," Cersei's mouth is a thin line. She has no love for the dead princess, but her murder rubs her the wrong way. She wonders if her father would have had her killed, if she had been Rhaegar's queen and he had thought Robert Baratheon had won the war. Or would he have just arranged to marry her off to him, his proclaimed love for Lyanna Stark be damned? She casts a glance to Rhaenys, who is staring out at nothing, eyes watery, then to Daenerys, who is clenching her hands into fists.
What a mess you've caused, Rhaegar, Cersei frowns. To think, she had once fancied herself in love with the silver prince. It's not silver Cersei loved. It's gold.
The Wall
Jaime looks through the letters addressed to him. Tyrion is kind as to write to him regularly.
Dearest brother,
The weddings of the heirs to the Iron Throne were lovely. I drank so much I don't know how I woke up at a pleasure house. You don't care about the weddings, clearly. The King borrows money regularly, and I do fear all the gold in Casterly Rock isn't enough. What he's doing with that money, I have no clue. At this rate, I shall be Master of Coin in a within the year instead of that idiot.
It would please you to know Myrcella is well, happy and healthy. She humoured her silly old uncle for several dances, but her attention was constantly on a young Stark boy. As she's the daughter of a Prince of Dorne, I believe our sweet sister wishes for a better match for her. The king's brother is still unwed…I do believe there something strange is afoot. I will write to Prince Oberyn and request my sister and niece come to visit. Should we go further North to arrange a betrothal between Myrcella and the Stark boy, well, I do believe Myrcella wishes to see her uncle at least once, as well as wishing to see the vastness of the Wall. I shall write to you when I've heard from Cersei.
-Lord Tyrion Lannister
Jaime Lannister once served on the Kingsguard. He knows the madness that consumes the Targaryens. He'd rather cut off his sword hand than see Myrcella married off to one of them. The Starks aren't much better, but at least they aren't mad.
He sighs. Just one little mention of Cersei. He misses her. He misses Tyrion, too, but he came into the world holding Cersei's foot. He looks outside to the snow and desolation and the impending threat from wildlings and sighs. If he dies, he'll die with Cersei. Not here, never here.
Braavos
Arya sells fish, Gendry smiths. She prefers actually working than being forced to sit with Sansa and Jeyne Poole to sew.
Her Braavosi has gotten better, and she's gotten used to people referring to her as Cat. She misses her family, but Gendry is her family now, too. She won't leave him.
She's cleaning up to go home when she feels someone's gaze on her. She looks up to see dark, greying hair, and dark eyes. Her eyes widen and she lowers her head, packing up her belongings before heading back home. She should've known working at Ragman's Harbor was a bad idea.
She takes her satchel, and head down, weaves between the other merchants cleaning up.
Her path is blocked and she looks up.
"Boy," the Braavosi man greets, "now you look a little more like a boy."
Arya steps back, "You can't make me go back."
"Why would I do that?" Syrio shakes his head.
"Then why are you here?" Arya asks.
"I am from Braavos. I returned home. I will go back to the Academy," Syrio says.
Arya wants to ask if he can take her with him, so she can keep training but her stomach is in knots.
"Meet me in front of the gates in the morning, boy," Syrio offers a small smile, "and don't forget your Needle."
En Route to Winterfell
They're gathered around a fire, having made camp. Sansa is sitting next to Catelyn, savouring every moment with her mother. Bran and Rickon are off to the side, playing at swords with their wooden ones while Jon supervises.
Lyanna sits alone, huddled under a large cloak. They've come quite a ways North, and she can feel the cold in the air. It feels good, it feels right.
Her long hair is draped over her shoulder in a braid, and she wears no crown. Her face is thin and long, a Stark face, but she looks thinner than she ever had. Her shoulders are narrower and she looks tired.
Ned's heart breaks a little bit. Catelyn had said it once, in passing, that Starks melt away like summer snows when they move South. She did not mean it literally, but he can see the strain on his sister's face. He can see the unbridled joy in Sansa and Jon because they're finally going home.
Sometimes Ned wonders if Lyanna loves Rhaegar. He'd worry less if she did. He's afraid, so, so afraid, that she was taken against her will and crowned queen out of fear of the new king. If that's the case, then he's failed her. Lyanna and Rhaegar are always cordial and polite, but Ned cannot see the affection. Perhaps he's biased against the king and that taints his opinion. He doesn't know.
Lyanna stands and makes her way to him.
"What are you thinking of, brother dear?" Lyanna asks, sitting down next to him.
"How I never thought you'd be queen," Ned says quietly, "you always wanted to be free."
Lyanna nods, "I understand why Arya did what she did. She would have suffocated there, Ned. I should have spoken with Rhaegar sooner, but he's so hot-headed. He doesn't see what's right in front of him if he doesn't want to."
"Lya," Ned starts, "Did Aegon hurt her?"
"No, not Arya," Lyanna says carefully, inclining her head towards Sansa.
Ned's blood boils and his hands clench into fists.
"Jon took care of it, and Arya threw a few punches as well," Lyanna elaborates, "Aegon truly seemed sorry."
"Forgive me, your grace, but how does your husband rule the realm when he can't rule over his own son?" Ned asks tensely.
Lyanna smiles sadly, "Are you so naive to think that it is the king who rules the realm?"
She looks away, and her shoulders start to shake. Ned immediately feels horrible and wraps his arm around her.
"Something terrible is going to happen. I'm glad Daenerys and Rhaenys are travelling. I'm glad we're here. I'm glad Aegon is going to Highgarden. I'm afraid once we return, things will be so, so different," Lyanna says cryptically.
Before Ned can ask her what she means, Jon tells everyone to look up. A shooting star, glowing red flies across the skies.
"The dragon has three heads," Lyanna murmurs.
King's Landing
"Oh, Aegon, it's beautiful," Margaery gazes up at where Aegon points.
A star shoots across the sky, red against the black of the night.
"A beautiful sight for my beautiful lady wife," Aegon hugs her from behind.
They stand on the balcony, gazing at the sky.
"What do you think it means?" Margaery asks, wide-eyed.
"Prosperity. Wealth. Happy, healthy children," Aegon presses a kiss to her cheek.
"I like the sound of that very much," Margaery smiles serenely, hands on her stomach. They've only been married for two weeks, but if a babe has not yet quickened, she'll make damn sure it's conceived now. Her son will be king.
It's a sign, Rhaegar knows. The time is coming. The prince's song is one of ice and fire. His son of ice heads North while his son of fire is still with him. There's still time to prepare.
The Kingsroad, near Moat Cailin
How the fire starts, no one's sure. It springs up seemingly out of nowhere, for their tent is away well from the bonfire which had been put out. It comes from nowhere and spreads rapidly, and they barely have time to comprehend what's going on.
Jon feels the heat, sweat on his forehead. He wakes Sansa, who looks terrified when she realizes what's happening. He carries her out of their shared tent, leaving her with their family who has smelled the burning cloth.
"Jon!" Sansa calls out after him, watching as he goes inside the tent to retrieve the dragon egg.
What possesses him to do so, he doesn't know. He just knows that the black egg is his, his responsibility.
Sansa tries to run after him, but Catelyn holds her back, clutching her close to him. Lyanna holds Rickon's hand and Bran gazes in wonder, as if knowing this was going to happen.
Jon is back in the tent, eyes burning from the smoke. He can hear Sansa screaming for him to come back, as well as Ned calling for water to put the fire out.
He finds the egg and grasps it tight. He sits down on the ground, cradling it in his hands.
Sansa's yelling fades away and soon he can't hear or see a thing. Just darkness.
When he opens his eyes the egg has hatched and a tiny, tiny dragon hisses.
He's un-burnt and unscathed, and everyone is looking at him like he's Aegon the Conqueror reborn. The tent is in tatters as the flames subsided on their own, and he sits with his clothes burnt and hair ashy.
"How?" Ned murmurs.
Catelyn clutches Sansa and the boys close to her and Lyanna steps forward.
"His is a song of ice and fire. The prince who was promised," she says mechanically. Rhaegar was right. Rhaegar was right.
"What will you name him?" Sansa asks, breaking away from her mother's tight hold.
Jon looks confused still, then looks at his mother and Sansa, "Vhagar."
Lyanna bites the inside of her cheek. It's the name of Visenya's dragon when Aegon and his sisters conquered Westeros. What's there to conquer now?
Dorne
The flames are hot, but Rhaenys doesn't feel it as she sleeps. It's the smell of the smoke that wakes her up. She scrambles out of bed, feeling as though she's suffocating. She opens the crate that holds her egg, the pale, cream colored one, and tries to escape from the flames. It's the only possession she holds dear. Everything can be replaced, but a dragon egg cannot. It's a fossil, but it's still hers.
The flames grow and she tries to call for help but the smoke is thick and her voice fails her. Surely someone will come find her. Surely they can smell the smoke. Her mother's family won't leave her to die.
Daenerys is just across the hall and Rhaenys can hear her aunt slam against the door, trying to open it.
"Help!" she yells, "Rhaenys is in here. HELP!" her cries grow more frantic.
Rhaenys tries to make her way across the room and absentmindedly thinks they should have taken the ship from Dorne to the Free Cities straight away, but Arianne and Uncle Oberyn had insisted they stay. Now she's going to die without ever seeing the world.
She's shocked when they door finally breaks down and she's safe and sound. She's even more shocked when she's unscathed and Dany gapes at her. She nearly passes out when she notices the dragon egg she'd been holding is no longer an egg, but a dragon.
"Meraxes," Rhaenys whispers, not caring her clothing has burnt away and Dany and her uncle and the guards are looking at her in awe, "Meraxes the Second."
Highgarden
Aegon falls asleep in the library at Highgarden. He's been reading an ancient tomb about the markings on dragon eggs, his own green egg with him, and the candle falls, a fire spreads.
When he wakes the egg is gone, a tiny dragon hissing at him from the table. He didn't feel the heat, nor did the smoke wake him.
The Tyrells gape at him and Margaery's eyes widen.
He smiles, the dragonling on his bare shoulder. Balerion, he calls him. He must write to father and Jon and Rhaenys at once. The dragons must be together, their trips be damned.
Braavos
A star shoots across the dark sky and there are mumblings of dragons, of the old Valyria. Arya and Gendry pay those whisperings no mind. They are away from the real dragons, the ones that sit the Iron Throne.
They lie awake in their small bed, pressed against each other. Arya's hand rests on Gendry's chest, his arm around her comfortingly.
"Sansa and Jon are going home," she says, relaying the chatter from Ragman's Harbor.
Gendry nods slowly, knowing where the conversation is headed.
"Maybe…we could go North? My father won't harm us. Jon knows you…"
"Prince Jon has been kind to me, but as a blacksmith, not the man who ran off with his cousin. And your father's sister is the Queen, remember. The King will want my head," Gendry says warily.
"To hell with the King. Aegon got a simpering bride in Margaery Tyrell. They can leave me the hell alone. I hate King Rhaegar," Arya spits out.
"Arya," Gendry says in a tired voice.
"How can he be mad at us when he stole away my aunt? She was betrothed to your father," she growls, "he's a hypocrite. I bet Robert Baratheon loved my aunt more than stupid Rhaegar."
Arya doesn't know if Lyanna had agreed to the match with Robert. She doesn't know if her aunt loved Gendry's father. She doesn't know if Robert Baratheon was a good man, but anyone would be better than Rhaegar Targaryen in her mind.
"How much could he have loved her if he bedded my mother?" Gendry asks quietly.
Arya falls silent. Gendry would have been conceived after Robert was officially engaged to Lyanna. Arya doesn't believe in that stupid men have needs excuse. If a man truly loves a woman, he'd wait for her, wouldn't he? She chews on her tongue, thinking of something to say.
Gendry kisses the top of her head, "It's no use trying to guess at what they thought or felt. All that matters to me is you. If you want to go home, we'll go North."
Arya leans up and her eyes search his.
"And risk you? Never," Arya murmurs, "I will never go back if it means you might be harmed. You're stuck with me."
Gendry smiles and cups her cheek with a large hand. He presses a kiss to her mouth. He feels guilty, still, for tearing her away from her family. He's a selfish man, he supposes. Perhaps his father was selfish, too, unwittingly starting a war for a woman may not have even loved him. Gendry is lucky in that respect. At least Arya loves him as he loves her. At least they have each other.
Once again, I am so sorry for the wait. I'm on holiday now, but busy with family things. I'll keep writing and try to update as soon as possible. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!