Rhaegar I
Rhaegar stared at the red and black walls of his tent. He had not meant to use such iron tones to address Jon in front of the whole council but it could not be helped. Rhaegar could not be partial. Moreover, and importantly, Rhaegar was utterly furious.
He had left Lord Whent as Castellan of the camp for a reason.
What was Jon thinking letting the Heir of Winterfell travel with such a small party for a…
And Arthur and Whent: they had subverted Jon's orders and left with Brandon Stark. That was good but Rhaegar was afraid that even their combined prowess might not be enough.
What if the intelligence held and they had found Robert? How would they have subdued his party of hooligans?
What if Robert had thrown a trap in the keep?
They could have died because of sheer stupidity, not righteous battle or anything.
"Your grace, scouts spotted a party of seven or eight about 3 leagues out," Martell informed him.
Rhaegar nodded and instructed, "Keep the maester's tents ready. I am expecting injuries."
A party of seven when ten had left the Haystack Hall. They had seen battle since then.
"Yes, your grace," Martell said.
"Any word from the capital?" Rhaegar asked. His last missive to Azalea remained unanswered and although the delay was not much, it bothered him all the same. It did not help that he was angry and he needed someone equally witted to calm him down. Damn Jon, Damn Brandon Stark, Damn Arthur, and Damn that stag.
"Not as of now, sire," Martell shook his head.
Rhaegar simply nodded.
Arthur was the first to get off, his white armor dirtied and bloodied. It had been hastily wiped but not by much.
"Your grace, " Arthur began, but Rhaegar's impatient look must have cut off his greeting and bow.
"Lady Errol laid a trap. She directed us to Antlers where we were ambushed by sellswords: about four dozen. It was the Mummers, Vargo Hoat is a prisoner and hopes to barter for intelligence. We lost four Northmen and Umber is injured." Arthur gave him the brief.
The supply horses had men tied up; as prisoners or the remains of the comrades.
Rhaegar was about to start questioning when it was put to a halt, "Can we do this in a bit? Umber needs a bath and a bed."
He would recognize that voice and tone anywhere. His wife removed her hood and jumped down from a horse, and wordlessly directed Whent and Brandon to carry Umber.
Rhaegar nodded for other people to bound over and take over the task from the overtired men, even as he stared at Azalea. Oh seven, his Lea, his wife…it had been months.
She had dirt on her face too. Her eyes glowed despite all the unkemptness. He could not see blood but…
"Shall we take it to your tent?" She asked directly, throwing a pointed glance at the camp-dwellers.
Women in the war were not exactly common well except whores and locals. Of course, people would gossip about their bloody queen appearing in the encampment. What in the name of seven was she doing here anyway?
He nodded just once, his temper flaring with his thoughts.
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