Of White Trees and Blue Roses
I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us.
Now, I'm going to try my best to approximate where everyone would have been at this point in time based on the information I have, but please forgive me if I'm a little out on a few facts.
~X~
Chapter Forty One – Calm Before the Storm (Part 3)
Oswell
As Oswell gathered his belongings together for the long road back to Dorne, Rhaegar, and Lyanna Stark, he became aware of a presence in the sparse white room in the White Sword Tower that he shared with most of his fellow Kingsguard brothers.
"Lord Commander," Oswell said respectfully as Ser Gerold Hightower stepped inside the room.
"Oswell," the Old Bull replied in greeting, but Oswell could see in his eyes that he was not here to socialise. "I was thinking I might join you on the first leg of your journey, if you don't mind."
The meaningful stare that Ser Gerold gave the walls spoke volumes, and Oswell said he'd enjoy the company. As they saddled up, they discussed whether Arthur was keeping well and other banalities, and the real reason for the conversation wasn't brought up until Kings Landing and the Red Tower were disappearing into the distance.
"Oswell, you've always been a man who will speak his mind and call a spade a spade, and I trust you to tell me your honest opinion, no matter how ugly."
The two white knights looked at each other, Oswell seeing deadly seriousness in his old mentor's eyes.
"How is the prince's state of mind? We both know only too well of the king's madness, and while you've been away it's only grown worse. I've always consoled myself that he is an old man and that Prince Rhaegar is a good and sane man. Now, after recent events, I'm not so sure. Has the apple fallen far from the tree?"
Oswell thought for a while. "Oh, he has a madness at the moment, but only the type that most men experience at some point in their lives. He loves Lyanna Stark, no doubt about it, and she loves him in return. It pains me to bring the news back that the king won't allow them to marry."
"But to throw everything up in the air over a woman, insulting his wife and his subjects. Is she worth it?"
Oswell didn't hesitate. "Yes. If I had been in his boots, knowing what I do of her now, I would have done the same thing." He looked over at Ser Gerold's raised eyebrows. "She would have been a wonderful queen."
Ser Gerold chewed over what he'd heard. "But the prince already has a princess, and the Targaryens no longer take more than one wife. Lewyn feels very strongly about how Rhaegar has treated his niece."
Oswell thought about his kingsguard brother, Prince Lewyn Martell, brother of Princess Elia's mother, the ruling Princess of Dorne. He could understand his offence, but then of all the current members of the guard, surely he could understand how it felt to compromise one's vows to keep a paramour. Lewyn had a mistress, despite his vows of chastity, though only a select few knew.
"It isn't nearly as scandalous as the gossips would have you believe. The relationship was very...courtly...until recently. If you met her, spoke to her, then you'd learn Lyanna Stark's quality and why Rhaegar's head was turned. Is she worth civil war? Well, I would say no, but that's probably because I don't have the benefit of having her to call my own."
Thinking of Lyanna in her armour, Oswell felt the familiar pang of jealousy. Keeping his own vow of chastity had never felt so hard as when he sparred, both verbally and physically, with the dark-haired girl of his dreams. Yet she was permanently out of his reach, and his vow was as safe as it could be.
"The Hand assures the king that the rebel uprising is just a minor skirmish that will be easily dealt with, but the man is a fool and I disagree with him. He cannot stand up to the king's will like Lord Tywin could, and I fear that the lack of a sane ruler is going to escalate the situation." Ser Gerold gave a pointed look. "That's why I need you to convince the prince to come back to King's Landing and use his influence to take charge."
Trying to decipher exactly what he was hearing, Oswell wondered whether Ser Gerold was merely requesting Rhaegar's calming and sensible presence, or something more. The message in Ser Gerold's eyes suggested the latter.
"How do the rest of the king's guard feel?"
"Lewyn, as I've said, is none too pleased with Prince Rhaegar, and if he were to examine where his loyalties lie I would say they lie with Dorne. He approves of the king's decision to deny a second marriage, but I don't think he quite sees it as justice. I don't think he would abandon his vows lightly, but if he does, it will be for his niece."
Nodding, Oswell replied, "Arthur is as close to Rhaegar as always. I don't think we need wonder how he would side. What about Barristan? Young Ser Jaime? Darry?"
"Barristan will keep his oath to the true king without question. I think the only way to secure his loyalty would be to remove the throne from Aerys and make Rhaegar the undisputed ruler. Until then, anyone opposing the king will oppose Barristan."
Oswell made a noise of agreement.
"Jaime is very much a Lannister, and despite the king torturing him and never letting him out of his sight, I think he will side with whomever his father chooses. Still, I think Aerys is making the kingsguard vows seem much less glamourous. For now I tell him not to judge the king and his actions, but the boy is still impressionable and I think he could be persuaded to see the sense in Rhaegar taking the throne. Darry, I have yet to decide which side he would fall on."
"So the king's guard would be split in two, if the son were to try and take control, not to mention the divide in the kingdom. A small rebellion could soon become war across the entire land."
"It could." Gerold brought his horse to a halt. "But I think that civil war might come sooner if nothing is done to curb the king's madness. It seems as if we're stuck between a rock and a hard place, when keeping one vow means forsaking another. Bring what I've told you to Rhaegar. I'm sure he will listen and think on it. If you need to send word, you know where to find me."
With that, Ser Gerold turned around and headed back to King's Landing, and the ride continued for Oswell, his thoughts weighing heavy as the miles disappeared beneath his horse's hooves.
~x~
Howland
Riding south amongst the Northmen, Howland watched now familiar countryside pass by. Only this time the mood of the caravan was much different.
When he'd left his swamps, he'd been seeking adventure and new experiences, and that he'd certainly found. Now he wanted more than anything to be back home, amongst his fellow crannogman, rather than riding south to war.
Yet, he felt obligated to stay. Howland thought back to Harrenhal and the sequence of events that followed, and the part he had played. Lord Stark and Brandon Stark, the wild wolf, were dead. Young Benjen was back in Winterfell, and Howland had seen how hard that sat on his young friend's shoulders. Now the quiet wolf had stepped into his father's shoes, and Howland was wondering if he'd ever see Lyanna Stark again.
Howland remembered her attacking the squires with a tourney sword, helping her put on her brother's mismatched armour and jousting, and the road to Riverrun to see Brandon wed—a journey no one completed.
His own personal guilt weighed heavy, and it was this that made him press on, riding amongst knights and archers. He'd been given a Stark short sword, a leather jerkin, and a bow and arrow, but Howland had found himself a blow pipe and made some darts, weapons he was more comfortable with.
He didn't doubt that he would be called upon to use them, and the thought petrified him.
~x~
Jon
In his tent, Jon listened to the knights pointing to the map of they were all gathered around.
"We were ambushed by archers here...and then we came across a few dead Targaryens here. Ventured across some hill tribesmen, I think. All their weapons and anything of value was taken, but I think there are more out there along the East Road."
Jon nodded. "They keep sending small forces rather than openly face us on the field. What news from Storm's End?"
A messenger stepped forward and handed over a scroll. "From Lord Robert. He says most of his bannermen are at Storm's End, and have agreed to gather their forces. He awaits word from you, milord."
Jon looked over the note in Robert's familiar handwriting, reading the names that his protégé had given as not attending and mentally placing their castles on the map before him. Fell, Grandison, Cafferen.
The Targaryens hadn't sent any considerable force to the Vale, and the word from Eddard heading south was that the King's Road was clear so far.
Staring at the map, Jon wondered whether the king had set his sights father South. The Starks were still travelling, and everyone knew that the Eeyrie was impregnable and the East Road dangerous. Maybe his plan was to cut off the rebellion in the Stormlands by catching an impulsive young lord in his own castle and defeating him with his own bannermen? Lords could be turned from their liege lord with the promise of lands and new titles...
The ruined Targaryen palace of Summerhall would be an ideal place for the three lords to gather before marching on Storm's End and catching the others unawares. Was there time to cut them off? No, not with the distance between. Robert would have to deal with this himself.
And if he failed? Well then the rebellion would be crushed just as the king hoped. It would take too long for Eddard to arrive, and Jon's own army was scattered after dealing with the king's forces piecemeal. What they needed was at least one more lord onside, to bolster their numbers and counter the loss of the bannermen that had not flocked to Robert's call.
"I need to send a message."
The messenger stepped forward but Jon held up his hand.
"No, I have a different errand for you. I'll write a note for you to take to Lord Stark once we're done here, telling him where to meet us. You'll put it in his hands and his hands alone."
The messenger nodded and stepped back.
"Bring me a maester and a raven for Storm's End. I need to send Robert a warning. Once that is done, I will leave some of you here to hold the East Road, others south to Storm's End, and the rest to follow me."
The maester arrived and handed Lord Arryn a small piece of paper, which he took and scribbled upon with urgency.
Summerhall—leave immediately and travel fast. The names you've given me will likely meet you there and soon. Try to get there first. JA.
As soon as he was done and had given his knights and lords their instructions, Jon took the time to write the letter to Eddard. His quill weighed as heavy as the words he was writing as he was asking much, but he knew Eddard would follow his instructions without question.
Then Jon himself had work to do, and that night, with no pause to sleep, he was at the head of his cavalry heading west with all the speed he could muster. This errand could change what was a very delicate balance of fortune depending on the whims of the gods, the speed of a young boy and his newfound army, and the favour of a very proud man.