Rhaegar gritted his teeth as he read through another letter from prince Doran. Dorne would be sending no additional troops to aid in what he called 'a foolish war started by Rhaegar's own unfaithfulness to his lawful wife'. The Dornish prince seemed to have very little motivation to aid him. Elia was safely on Dragonstone with his first two children, and unless Rhaegar was willing to bring her to King's Landing, right into the hands of his father, she would remain so for the forseeable future. As much as Rhaegar wanted to roar and rage at prince Doran about how important this war was, he found that such volume and intensity would no doubt be lost somewhat in the writing of a letter.

The war was going well, though Rhaegar knew it could be going far better. Robert had been beaten back at Ashford castle courtesy of the Tyrell vanguard. Mace Tyrell had already send a missive boasting about the victory as 'crushing' and 'decisive', words which Rhaegar only half believed. If the battle had been as one-sided as Mace had described it, then no doubt he would be riding to the capitol with Robert's head on a pike. No, Rhaegar's informants amongst the Reach army, including a few lords hoping to rise through his favour, painted a different story.

The battle at Ashford had been a victory for the Reach forces, but it was not so massive as portrayed by lord Tyrell's letter. The vanguard had consisted of half the army, at most, and the smaller size had allowed Robert to execute and maintain an organised and sustained retreat that had kept the majority of his force intact. There were already rumours about the force that had held the line. One hundred bold men, and a few women from what Rhaegar had heard, had held the pivoting flank of Robert's army, holding back twenty-five thousand reachmen before withdrawing themselves.

Only half had survived the final withdrawl according to the heralds and gossips, but it was more than enough, and already the rebel forces were rallying not just to Robert's prowess in battle, but the hardiness of the 'Echoes' as they had become known. A small company that had formed from a sellsword unit in the southern Stormlands near Stonehelm and had forsaken their rightful loyalty to the crown for coin, they had swelled after the battle of Ashford to include nearly fifty more men, making them likely the largest sellsword company on the continent. Some might have found it amusing that just across the narrow sea, the Echoes would have never qualified for the moniker of company when compared to the larger companies who contained thousands of members.

Rhaegar had not cared for the humour, instead he had grit his teeth. Their reputation and distinction had only bolstered Robert's cause, but Rhaegar knew just how to fix the problem. Jon would be heading out to persue Robert with the Crownlands' armies, while Rhaegar wrote to lord Tyrell to provide whatever aid his friend and hand needed. The fat flower however, seemed more interested in besieging Storm's End than chasing his cousin in the aftermath of their victory. The ancient seat of the Storm Kings might have been surrounded on all sides, but the Stormlands had already been emptied of fighting men. Mace could have simply stormed the castle within a week of the seige and won the day, but had instead decided to sit on his laurels.

The warden of the south's letters had been pompous and demanding, when they came at all. Of course he showed his deference to his father the king, flattering him and encouraging him to order the continuation of the seige. Rhaegar wasn't blind to the truth though. He had stalled on the lord of Highgarden's request for a betrothal, having offered not even an implication of a deal, and it seemed that the lord of the Reach was determined to force his hand if he wanted the full measure of his kingdom's strength. For all that Mace Tyrell was an oaf, he was not blind to the power he held, and now that he had earned Aerys' favour as the only lord to win a victory against Robert, he had more than enough leway to stay out of further battles until his silent demands were met.

Rhaegar cursed the man under his breath. Of course Mace had enough sense in his head to hold his power effectively, but was also enough of an oaf that he could not see how his inactions were strengthening the rebel cause. Ever day Robert remained uncaptured, every day he remained at large, more and more of the smallfolk would be drawn into his charm, blind of the future that they were dooming with the possible downfall of his house.

A knock on his door drew his attention away from the letters and battleplans that he had been pouring over throughout the morning. Arthur opened the door, for it was his duty today to see that Rheagar's chambers were protected.

"Your Grace." Being back in the capitol meant that Arthur could not be as informal as he might have been with the Prince when they had been traveling. "The princess Lyanna is here to see you."

Rhaegar's face split into a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Lyanna swept into the room, clad in a dress, a rare sight but becoming more common as she was forced to adjust to the life of a princess in the Red Keep. The dress was not a tight one that one might expect a princess to wear however. The belly of the dress was large and loose, providing comfort and allowing the growing fullness of her belly to be unrestrained.

"Rhaegar." She said, smiling at him, though her eyes were tired and Rhaegar suspected that she had spent a good portion of the day vomiting. Pregnancy was different for many women, or so he had been told, but some symptoms were consistent no matter who one was. It seemed his northern rose was not immune to the inconveniences of growing new life.

"My Love." Rhaegar returned, rising from his desk and moving to kiss her. His eyes swept over her, lingering on her belly as her hands locked together to cradle the growing bulge.

"The midwives have said that I am healthy this far along." She said, her voice quivering in excitement.

Rhaegar was glad she was so excited. Lyanna had been informed of the responsibilities and duties of a princess and had not been especially enthusiastic about them, but the pregnancy had forced her to refrain from her more active hobbies so as best not to harm the child. Now, no matter how much she bemoaned the dullness of it to him in their chambers, Lyanna found herself forced to take part in the duties of noble ladies alongside his mother and her entourage. Lyanna was still a novice in such activities and, Rhaegar would admit to himself, possessed little of the natural talents for them that Elia had possessed in spades. However, where she lacked in the poise of his first wife, she made up for it in stubborn determination. If Lyanna was to be forced to partake in the activities of ladies, then she would conquer the challenge, her pride would allow nothing else.

His mother had begun to get to know his second wife through this, and though she was still quite clearly preferencial towards Elia, Rhaegar contented himself with the fact that his mother was at least trying, something he appreciated. Now if only he could get Rickard to apologise to Lyanna for his harsh words, and finish this pointless war with her brother and former betrothed, his wife's sadness might disappear completely from her eyes.

Shane was with Jaime as he guarded Rhaella and her ladies.

"If the cub is to be followed by his father's dogs, then he can use them to guard my family." Aerys had sneered, and not for the first time Jaime found himself cursing his silent protectors. At least his sworn brothers had stopped giving him dirty looks about their presences. They had seen him dismiss the Spartans, they had seen him bemoan them in the chambers of the white sword tower. Ser Barristan had even challenged Ser Robert to a duel to leave Jamie alone and let him go about his duties without the Spartan acting as his shadow. Ser Barristan had lasted little more than a minute before he had found himself disarmed and on his back. From that point, few if any dared even come close to the Spartans who guarded the young lion. Fewer still snickered or sneered at him for having such protection, for fear that he might set his new guards on any such mockers.

Not that Ser Shane or Ser Robert would do so even if he ordered it. They were present to guard his person and nothing more. If not they were sleeping or sparring with Lady Jane, sessions which more and more drew massive crowds of servants to watch. Servants were not the only ones to watch the Spartans' matches However. Queen Rhaella had begun to spend more and more time with the Lady Jane, and in doing so would accompany her and watch as the tall woman fought her two fellows.

Jaime had been assigned to guard the queen on more than one such occation, and had found the experience of watching the Spartans fight to be incredible. They moved faster than he thought men capable of. Jaime had seen what he believe to be the very best of martial prowess, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy, both of them were the best swordsmen Jaime had ever met, and both men's speed and strength paled in comparison to those of the Spartans. He had watched as a blow from Lady Jane's fist had torn clean through a wooden shield, while at one point during a spar using training swords, they had struch each other's blades with such force and ferocity that the steel had ended up bent by the end of the match.

Nevertheless, Ser Robert was likely in the quarters provided to the Spartans of Terra, doing whatever it was that they did whenever they were not seen by the people of King's Landing. Jaime sometimes wondered if Varys knew what it was his guards did when they were not with him or the queen. If the Spider suspected them of anything, he was unaware of it.

Guarding the queen and the young prince were some of the more envious duties undertaken by the white cloaks. While guarding the king was the most important by default, Aerys' madness made the guardpost to Prince Rhaegar the truely important assignment. Due to his age and status as the newest of the kingsguard, Jaime often found himself guarding the queen and prince Viserys during the day. Jaime did not find the job to be anything to complain over however, as keeping far away from the king he had been sworn to guard was beginning to be more a blessing than anything else.

Rhaella sat with her ladies as they sowed. Jaime had known that this was what ladies did while men practiced and fought with swords, but he had heard little of its contents other than Cersei's complaints about embroidary. Truthfully, most of the work of the Queen and her ladies was done in sowing cloaks, blankets and other items that would likely be worn or used. It was practice, and to stock up for such items when winter came and they would be needed. Jaime found it fascinating, and almost envious in a way. Men might fight wars, and he was proud of the lives he had saved when he had aided in the hunt for the Kingswood Brotherhood, but the blankets and cloaks that the queen and her ladies had sown over the summer would keep him, the castle and quite possibly the city warm through a half a dozen winters, fending off an enemy that no sword could fell.

It was a respectable contribution, something Jaime had not considered before he had been tasked with guarding the queen. Even the princess Lyanna was in the room, taking a needle to a piece of white cloth on an embroidery hoop as she tried to stitch the symbol of her house without pricking her fingers. It was an exercise meant for younger women, or so he had overheard, something for them to do for practice before moving on the stitching more complicated cloths like the queen and the rest of her household ladies were doing. That princess Lyanna had apparently lived in the frigid North, but had never learned to sow, was something that confused the young kingsguard. Still, it was not his place to judge such things, and queen Rhaella had been quite insistant that her ladies not be too hard on the Northern woman over her inexperience.

The only woman not sewing was Lady Jane. Instead of running a needle through cloth, she was instead whittling away at a piece of wood with a rather impressive-looking set of carving knives. A small wood chip made a small clattering sound as Lady Jane shifted the angle of her latest cut. Princess Lyanna's eyes wandered from her embroidary to the work, only to flinch and hiss as her needle pricked her finger.

"Focus." Queen Rhaella said patiently, looking over at her second good-daughter. "You need to pay attention when sowing. The needle might be small, but it's point can be as sharp as any blade."

"Clearly you've not seen many blades." The princess muttered, sucking on the tip of her finger when a small drop of blood had formed.

"Maybe not." Rhaella replied. "But I've seen more than a few people skewer themselves on such tiny needles as the one you are holding. People tend to underestimate such small things."

Lyanna's face turned white, staring at the small piece of sharpened metal in her hand and back to her pricked finger. Jaime too felt a tinge of discomfort at the idea, but supressed it. It would not do for a member of the kingsguard to show weakness at the threat of a needle's pinprick.

"I can't see why I can't carve as she does." Lyanna groused, folding her arms and jutting her chin towards Jane.

"It was my commander who requested that I be exempt from this exercise." Jane offered in response. "Queen Rhaella was just kind enough to accept his request. If you had such a commanding officer and they made such a request, I'm sure considerations would be taken."

Jaime was unsure if Lady Jane was trying to be hurtful or not. After all, her 'commanding officer' was her lord, Kurt Ambrose, and the closest thing Lyanna had to such a figure was her father, who was locked in the dungeons.

Some of the ladies looked between Lady Jane and Lyanna, waiting for an explosion from the normally hot-headed princess. Thankfully, before Lyanna could release her anger Rhaella interveened.

"Lady Velaryon, perhaps you can help to bandage my good-daughter's wound and aid her in her next attempt. Lady Jane, if you would accompany me, I will be evaluating my son Viserys' progress in his lessons."

Jane just nodded, getting up and taking her wood and knives with her. Jaime made to accompany her, but was stopped by a gesture from the queen.

"Please stay Ser Jaime. My good daughter is carrying my grandchild, I know I would feel safer with you guarding her rather than wasting time with me."

Jaime opened his mouth to protest, about his duty to guard queen Rhaella, about how it was not a waste of his time to guard her, but she silenced him with a gesture and ushered the Spartan woman out of the room.

Jaime stood and turned to keep watch over princess Lyanna wondering when the queen had become so assertive as to command him with nothing but a gesture.

Rhaella knew that if Jane did not want to come with her, she would not have been able to so much as budge the massive woman. Still, it spoke to their bond and the respect she was owed that where charging knights and kingsguard could not move a Spartan, Jane followed without complaint as she pulled her out of the room.

Rhaella released her elbow as soon as they were out in the hallway.

"Please Jane, those kinds of comments are the last thing necessary when speaking with her."

Jane, who it seemed was not as oblivious to social conventions as one might think, rolled her eyes.

"She caused a war, I don't have much room to pity her."

"Maybe not." Rhaella agreed. "But she hardly needs the reminder. Please, be civil in the future."

Rhaella took her hand and offered a small smile.

"Please?"

Jane's look softened for a moment, and Rhaella was happy that the Spartan woman considered her a good enough friend to lower her impressive guard, even slightly.

"Fine."

"Thank you, now I believe that we must be off to observe my son's lessons, I am sure he will be fascinated by whatever it was you were carving."

The small, half-finished dragon carving that was meant to lean over the edge of a table or desk was a new piece of work that Jane had been experimenting with in her time with whittling. Without a firing range or permission to use her rifle, Jane had taken to woodworking to give her hands something to do. She still cleaned her weapon everyday, but field stripping a pistol was not something that could be done in a room full of noble ladies, so it was instead done at the end of the day in the privacy of their rooms.

The two ladies walked down the halls, and Jane found that although the mission to Kingslanding was by far the most physically boring mission she'd ever had, she was enjoying the personal aspect of it in some ways. Most of the people here were distant, and she had no problems with that, but Rhaella was quickly becoming something similar to a friend, and in time, Jane might even consider her as such.

"Hold the left flank, make sure they can't push through!"

Cassandra held and pushed back alongside Martyn, one of the men who had joined up with her squad after the battle of Ashford. The Echoes, as they were called now, had gained a good amount of equipment since they had first formed, most of it taken from the bodies of loyalist forces that had attacked the retreating Baratheon army. It had been months on the road, fending off small forces sent to slow their march and break up the army.

The strategy was going well for the loyalists, except when her and her squad took the fiend. Spartan support had held the Baratheon host together against the death by a thousand cuts strategy that the Targaryens had planned for them. It had not come without losses though. While she didn't consider them friends, as she did with her fellow Spartans, the members of their new company who had died had a place in this life she was acting out, and she was by no means happy to see them go. Of the fifty men who had joined her squad after the battle of Ashford, only thirty seven remained after more than a month of steady retreat through the entirety of the Reach. They had come across dozens of smaller forces, some sent from the Tarly camps at Horn Hill to delay them, others on their way there and destroyed before they could meet up with the main force.

She slashed with the sword she had grown used to using over the last few months. Her hands sometimes itched to grab at the sidearm she kept under her armour, but her life was not in anywhere near enough danger to justify drawing it and possibly making the technology known. Firearms was something their commander wanted to keep secret for as long as possible, so as not to inspire the locals to get any ideas of making their own. She had switched out her pair of combat knives for the larger blade just to try it out, and had found that while the fighting was still boring, it was a little more fun with a sword than a pair of knives.

Martyn shifted beside her, allowing a deflected strike to rebound off his armoured torso as he stepped forwards and plunged his blade through his opponent's visor. Where once the man would have been as clueless as a child with a sword in his hands, months of battle, as well as sparring with Spartans, had left him hardened and fierce. He still wore his leather jerkin, but it was now covered in solid plate metal, taken from an assortment of knights who had lost their lives trying to kill them. It was a mismatched abomination according to the knights, but it protected him well enough to take the brunt of that attack so the man would not be complaining. All around the two, the Echoes sellsword company, numbering forty-seven men total, stood firm and fought off a force twenty men larger. Seventy men of the rebel Riverlands had come to attack from the north, only to come in contact with the blades and armour of Westeros' most eminent company of hired killers.

Her Spartan brothers and sister alone could have handled the attack, they likely could have handled an attack ten times that size, but having another group of men standing with them had made things easier. Cassandra wondered sometimes if she wanted easier. Perhaps harder was better, so as to make sure she actually got a workout out of this war, but then she reminded herself that while she was to stand out in order to get closer to the rebel leaders, neither she nor any member of their squad was meant to act so invincible that they were recognised for Spartans. Already their reputation from the battle of Ashford was making people focus on them. Thankfully, the formaiton of their larger unit, and the growing effectiveness of their non-Spartan allies, had helped to assuade the possibility of such rumours in favour of catagorizing them as Marcher soldiers who had trained facing off against the dangerous desert people further south.

The last of the rivermen fell as Jaya, another Spartan of Echo team struck him across the throat with his knives. The larger Stormland host had seen some reduction in numbers, but the smaller sizes of the attacking forces meant that there were far more casualties for their enemies than for them.

Cassandra sheathed her sword, making her way back to the column of soldiers while some of the native soldiers scrounged and looted the dead for weapons and armour and pulled the bodies onto carts. The dead would likely be carted to the nearest settlement where they could have one of the local priests bless them before burial.

She would have to update the Plataea alongside Lei regading their progress. They had grown closer to the lords in charge of the army, and if they really needed to, they were more than close enough to assassinate Robert and his closest lords without much fight. The problem was that even if they killed Robert, he was only one third of the rebel triumvirate that was leading the war, and terminating the stag lord would take away their shot at the other two lords by almost all means but brute forcing it.

While Cassandra had no doubt that the Spartans could do such a thing, she understood that in these kinds of situations, maintaining their position until the right opportunity was key to effeciency in war. And so she marched back in line with the rest of the company and the greater army, ready to contact her captain in the evening and report the days events.