Fateful Duels
Politics makes for strange bedfellows.
Elia looked down at the lines of dried ink, thoughts scattering. She was unsure what approach would work best with Ned Stark. Having negotiated with his late brother before helped some, but brothers need not be the same.
Her own certainly weren't and from what Ashara had said of Maidenpool, these hadn't been necessarily either.
Exhaling deeply, she abandoned the writing for now. Cleaning the quill, she hid the piece of paper in a version of Bastard Born, an account of Alyn Velaryon's life including his potential romance with her own ancestor Princess Aliandra Martell before stashing the book in a filled shelf of scrolls and other books.
Elia had considered using Ten Thousand Ships, or History of the Rhoynish Wars as the hiding place at first but had thought better of it in the end. Considering their content and intimate relation to herself, only a tale of Princess and later Queen Myriah Martell's life would have served as a more obvious spot.
The morning was still very early, and she had thought to spend some time on her own future and that of her children, but it seemed the words would not come for now. That left little else to do but wait.
On another day she might have gone to her children, but not this morning, when things must needs move quickly and without delay once they began. There would be time for that once her part in the matter was done and over with.
It would not be much longer now before Ashara arrived. Elia thought back to the way she had been roped into this entire matter.
Ashara and her husband, the newly made lord of the Blue Fork and ruinous Oldstones, had approached her some days after the announcements of Jaime Lannister's fate. Once certain matters had been shared and explained, their wishes had been more than clear.
"Help me get my wife to safety and I'll help you with doing the same for your children." That was what Lord Naruto had said to her, cutting through any doubts or veiled intentions. "I will do what I must to keep my family safe. That matters more than any handout."
There was a certain novelty to his directness and simplicity, unexpected when negotiating a conversation with another, especially an up-jumped noble, and it was no ruse either. She had known of that before of course, though their short interaction on Dragonstone was little more than a blur of stress, pain, and confusion, but it had served to orient her own thoughts as well.
Things were truly that simple. She wanted her children safe and much as it galled her to think it, she needed help for that, help of the sort that was hard to come by.
A Princess of Dorne and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms she might be, but against the king that meant little and less. Lord Varys had spies even among the Dornish lords, Elia was more than sure, and she could not say in what way any of them might be tied up in the spider's web.
Naruto was Essosi as well of course, a thought that had given her pause when forming the first glimmers of this plan of hers, but reason had prevailed in the end. Essos was huge, monstrously so, and that foreign origin was just as much a boon here.
Nothing but Ashara and Rhaegar's empty promises bound the man here. No familial ties, no past loyalties, nothing. And he had already acted for her and against Rhaegar once before.
Promises were easy enough to make and easier yet when what was promised was still to be gained. She could do the same.
Ensuring the safety of her children, ensuring that Rhaenys might grow up to marry a high lord and have children of her own, and ensuring that Aegon could ascend the throne once he was a man, that was what mattered. If the ways to accomplish that led her down this path, so be it.
A few minutes later an expected knock sounded at her door.
"Come."
The door opened, revealing Ashara. Elia's eyes were drawn to the younger woman's neck, where a pale diamond was mounted in gold. There was something about the gem and necklace besides the fact that she had never seen it on Ashara before, but she could not say what.
"Your Grace," Ashara greeted neutrally and curtsied as one of the guards closed the door behind her. They were Dornishmen, not Targaryen ones much less members of the Kingsguard. As things stood, her uncle Lewyn was the only one among the white cloaks Elia would still suffer at her door and he had other duties to observe.
"Join me." Elia motioned for one of the empty chairs and then softened her voice against any listening ears. "They have left?"
Ashara nodded; her voice just as quiet. "Yes, I came right from the courtyard once they had ridden from the keep. An hour at most and they will pass through the Dragon Gate."
Rhaegar was riding to meet his armies, camped some miles from the city's walls, accompanied by a flood of knights and lords that had settled in the capital or had already been there in the first place. And with his departure came their opportunity to act.
Ordinarily, she would have been there to see him off herself as well, as was her duty as queen, wife, and lady, but ever since realising his plans she could not bring herself to care about keeping up appearances. She had pled feeling unwell and refrained from being there to see her husband off.
"Good, good," Elia replied absently. Then her gaze fell to Ashara's swollen belly. The babe would be born sometime early into the new year, which was not so long anymore. It was not her own child, but she could not help but feel some anxiety in regard to their intentions. "If..." She hesitated for a moment and lowered her voice even more, almost whispering now. "If you have any doubts, now is the time for them. Rhaegar is deliberate but he is a patient man."
Elia wasn't quite sure who she was really trying to convince.
Ashara's hand found her stomach, the dark purple and white material tailored to accommodate her size, and Elia understood the small smile on her lips perfectly. "It is a risk, one I dislike taking, but if there is one either way I would rather make my choice now before time takes it away from me. Even if everything goes perfectly, waiting now means waiting for half a year at least."
Longer even, perhaps as much as a year, Elia thought. Travelling by ship with Aegon when he had only just reached his fifth month had been nerve-wracking enough, and the distance from Dragonstone to King's Landing was far shorter than King's Landing to Sunspear and then Starfall, not to mention the seas far calmer.
With every additional day of summer, autumn crawled nearer as well. And autumn meant storms, fierce powerful storms that could wreck entire fleets of even the sturdiest ships.
"As long as you are sure."
"I am," Ashara replied, amethyst eyes calm. Her calm demeanour and clear resolve made Elia momentarily think that she was the one talking to a queen. "Are you?"
"There is no choice for me besides accepting my fate and facing defeat. And that is no choice at all. This is the lot I have been saddled with, whether I like it or not, and that means the path is clear."
Elia only hoped that the Gods might forgive her eventually. Even now she did not hate Rhaegar, a part of her even loved him, but if the choice was between her loyalty to him as husband and king and the safety of her children then there was only one path she could take.
Ashara nodded. "Your message?"
"I could not find the best words yet," Elia admitted, stopping herself from glancing at the bookshelf hiding the pieces of treasonous paper. Ashara would be the last to betray her in this, but doing so now only meant she would do so with others as well.
"I will have Morning come to your window every morning. Attach it to her leg as a Maester does for a raven. We will handle the rest. But I would not dwell on it too long. Harrenhal is the easiest way to reach Lord Stark and Rhaegar has his own plans."
"It will be ready soon enough," Elia said, putting the matter behind them. There was just one more thing she wanted to be said between them before they began. "Ashara. I will do as you have asked of me, but any trouble you encounter beyond that... I cannot help besides keeping my silence."
Ashara raised a hand to her neck, fingers playing with the gem of her new necklace. There was a small smile on her face, filled with understanding. The pale diamond twinkled in the sunlight. "I know. Believe this will work no matter what you hear, we made sure of that."
Elia accepted those words, though she did not truly understand. After learning of Ashara's extraordinary abilities, and having thought long and hard on the achievements of her husband, there was little she could dismiss as impossible.
Standing, she walked over to a side table and filled a glass with a Dornish Red. There were listening holes in the wall not even three feet away. Which had been discomforting to learn, but once known that information could be used to her advantage.
She sipped on the vintage, even more sour than the usual wines of its type, and raised her voice. Now she wanted to be overheard. "What did you truly come here for, Ashara? Sharing shallow gossip does not suit you."
Ashara sighed airily, adopting a mask of her own. "Oh well, you are right. There are more important things." She shrugged easily. "But until Ser Jaime's trial brings some new excitement to the keep there is little else but this rebellion to consider. And considering that is nothing but a source of frustration."
"Rhaegar has some plan, I would not doubt it, not with how much time he spends with Lord Tarly and his other advisors," Elia said, a gentle warning, and walked back to the chairs they had been using.
"He had some plan for Lord Connington as well, I wager, and that ended in nothing but disaster." Ashara played her part further, not dissuaded. "Face it, Elia. Rhaegar is losing, despite his plans. He hid himself away and Lord Tarly is the only one who can claim a victory on his side yet."
Elia allowed the words to hang between them for a moment, as if she could only half believe what she had just heard, and hoped that everything was audible through the doors. "Enough," she said, sharpening her words. A rebuke, but only that for the moment. "It is not our place to question the exact state of the realm and this war. Let those that have been there to see it with their own eyes judge the state of things."
"I have," Ashara replied with combative insistence. For a moment Elia wondered if she had been practising at mummery beyond just this ploy. "Mace Tyrell took his strength east to besiege Storm's End and hold half-abandoned lands in security while Harrenhal is surrounded by Ned Stark and his men. Lord Whent cannot help, Lord Tyrell will not help, and the Lannisters, Baratheons, and Arryns will not wait forever. What good is holding King's Landing when there is defeat everywhere else?" She shook her head. "Half the realm is against the Iron Throne and Rhaegar will not make peace even after this latest loss. What will it take? Another Hand appointed and sent to die? For the singers to begin calling him the Handless or One-Hand or whatever else they can think of?"
"Enough, I said!" Elia insisted loudly, channeling a moment of anger meant for others. For Rhaegar himself. For Tywin Lannister and his daughter. For Lyanna Stark and dead Aerys. Even for her mother, for landing her in this position in the first place, by arranging royal betrothal. Then she calmed with a deep breath. "Enough. You forget yourself, Ashara. Not another word of this."
They faded into stilted silence for a few moments, though Ashara's eyes were calm and controlled, displaying the act it all was.
"This is folly, and we both know it, Elia," she began again, voice quietened just so that listening ears would see it as an attempt to evade them. "Rhaegar is… well, he has his late father's pride. Sending Jon against Robert once was enough for whispers to start. A weak man, a weak king, like his grandfather, who would have others do his fighting for him. Rhaegar is not blind to these things. Do you think he will allow Ser Gerold or Lord Tarly to lead his armies now; tested commanders, to match those on the other side?" Ashara shook her head. "I don't. Rhaegar will march and he will lose. Seven willing, he might not fall, but he will lose. And what happens then? To you, to us?"
Elia knew the moment to be right. Outrage at those words need not even be feigned, and her response could only be what they had decided would be best. She saw others sit across from her and spewing treason and let honest anger burn.
"Out," she said, quietly outraged but more than loud enough. When Ashara remained, she raised her voice even more. "Out with you! I will not suffer such slanders in my own chambers!" Elia stood, finger flung out at the door, and her breathing heavy. "Out!"
But better this than being unconvincing.
Ashara stood as well and affected an expression of controlled yet defiant chagrin. She opened the door forcefully, dark hair tumbling. Then came a turn and a stiff curtsy, her voice a thin veneer of politeness. "Please excuse me, Your Grace."
Elia raised her voice to address the guards standing outside her door just as Ashara passed between them. "Daryn!" She saw the man flinch subtly, before turning to step into the room and face her. He deserved some credit, for no unease or agitation was reflected on his face, though it was his habit of talking too much that had landed him outside her door today. "Fetch the steward. Lady Dayne is returning to her family in Dorne and preparations must needs be made. The swiftest ship he can find in the harbour. They sail today."
"At once, Your Grace," came the quick response and Daryn hurried from the room to do as she had asked.
Elia did not watch him or Ashara leave. This mummer's show did not allow that. She had to be harsh and resolute in this matter and allow rumour and hushed whispers to spin a tale on top of it all. A tale she need do nothing with but tacitly affirm by keeping silent.
Everything else was out of her hands now. The ship and its Summer Islander crew had been put in place, all of Ashara's possessions had already been largely prepared for departure without seeming too obvious, and even if a messenger caught up with Rhaegar quickly it would be outside the city walls, where turning around would be an ordeal that deserved a better reason than this.
A few minutes later, when Daryn had returned to report her orders having been delivered Elia drained her remaining wine, savouring the sour taste and the momentary distraction it brought. Breathing deeply in the privacy of her solar she settled herself.
There was no reason not to pursue her own plans with the same resolve as those two did their own.
She considered the bookshelf for a moment, before deciding otherwise. Not right now, but later today. For now, there needed to be a veneer of normalcy. A display of any other day that would not be entirely derailed just because of this.
Squaring her shoulders, she went to meet the ladies Velaryon, Celtigar, and Sunglass for lunch.
When Elia returned to her chambers in the afternoon, after having visited her children and her remaining ladies and having a meeting with some of the ladies from the Crownlands, a guest was waiting for her, uninvited but expected all the same.
"Your Grace." The bald eunuch bowed deeply; the smell of his perfume heavy in the air. "You look radiant as always."
"To what do I owe this visit, Lord Varys? Surely not simply the intent to compliment me."
"Ah, council business you might say. Even with his Grace gone from the city for a short time, the realm does not rest and we, its servants, do not either." He made a smooth motion at the door to her chambers. "If we might continue this inside?"
Elia considered for a moment, before deciding that acquiescing carried more benefits than denying him. Better to learn what he had learned or not than having to keep on guessing.
"Very well."
Varys sat in silence for a few moments, mustering her attentively and for whatever reason Elia absently wondered if she had ever seen the eunuch eat or drink before. She did not get to contemplate that line of thought more seriously.
"Troubling tales have reached me, about the troubles you yourself handled only this morning. The Lady Dayne and her sudden dismissal and quick departure."
"Are my ladies such a vital matter of the realm?" Elia asked, knowing full well that Varys would have been the first to know about everything that had happened. With luck on their side, he only knew the version they had wanted others to know. "Ashara spoke unwisely. Wine and our long familiarity perhaps, or something else, but a line was crossed all the same and I felt it necessary to act accordingly. With luck, she might rethink ill-formed thoughts now. That was the end of it."
"I did not mean to insinuate some flaw in the way you handle your court, Your Grace. It was other news that reached me not long after your decisions that made me come to you." Varys matched her gaze with his dark, cat-like eyes and affected a facsimile of sympathy. "Though the Feathered Kiss set sail as planned, according to a troubling whisper Lady Ashara did not appear to board the ship."
Elia had no need to play at the surprise she felt hearing that. King's Landing was large, but the way from the keep to the port was not so long and twisted as to allow becoming lost in the time it took to cross.
Believe this will work no matter what you hear, we made sure of that.
The reminder came to her, but that did not stop her from acting as if she had never heard it. If Varys had men at the docks to inform on Ashara's whereabouts, then he might have acted to prevent her from leaving as well. "Where is she? And how could she have been lost in the first place?"
"I regret to admit that I do not know, even my little birds have limits. So far as my sources are able to say she seemingly simply disappeared shortly before reaching the harbour."
"If that were true, she is still within the city, certainly not outside your limits. Find her, Lord Varys. Dismissal or not, I have no wish to see Lady Ashara dead or defiled," Elia commanded, and hoped that everything had worked out. "And do not let word of this spread. Her lord husband would not be pleased to learn such news while away at war and the crown already has no shortage of enemies in the realm."
Jaime Lannister was brought forward clad not in the white armour of the Kingsguard, but instead the gold and crimson of his House. Until the trial's conclusion, he was still a member of the white cloaks, but she could think of no one but Lord Tarly who might favour that reminder being so directly visible to the onlooking crowd.
The Great Hall was packed near to bursting, nobles and knights and important merchants or craftsmen crowding the galleries and every other bit of space between the skulls of long-dead dragons and the Targaryen men marking the bounds of the arena.
Rhaegar sat the Iron Throne, high up above the happenings, where nothing could escape him.
Elia's seat was with Queen Mother Rhaella and Prince Viserys on the others side of the Iron Throne to the Small Council, raised as well so that everything was easy to observe.
Yet no matter all the important people in the room, it was the High Septon that held the room. The crystal coronal on his head was more than a foot high, sparkling brightly in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and his vestments were cloth-of-silver and silk.
The nameless man knelt, Ser Gerold in white on his right and Ser Jaime on his left, both without helmets and with swords still sheathed at their sides.
"We ask the Warrior to bless these knights and give strength to their arms and we ask the Father for his judgement, so that guilt and innocence might be bared to us in holy ritual. Let the Gods that are Seven show the truth they know to us by guiding the blade of the righteous to strike true, and no innocent blood be spilled in their name."
The Great Hall was silent for a few moments afterwards, heads bowed respectfully while hands clutched multi-coloured glass beads, wooden figurines, or even small crystals of their own.
Standing, the High Septon faced Rhaegar and walked between the circle of Targaryen shields filling the space between the other three white swords to a seat prepared for him next to the Small Council table.
The two knights stood as well and squires stepped forward for the final preparations, clutching shields and helmets for their respective combatant.
Ser Gerold accepted his helmet, open-faced to allow for a clearer view of his surroundings and shaped to resemble a bull's head, and allowed the boy to unclasp the long, snowy cloak from his shoulders before moving his left arm through the leather straps of his pure white shield, his eyes only for the young lion that was his opponent.
Ser Jaime looked much better than he had when the date for this trial had been announced — he benefits of not living in a cell for that time no doubt — his strength largely returned to him, apparent in the fluidity of his movements as he put on a lionhead helmet and grasped the gilded hilt of his sword.
He looked as ready as Elia imagined him to ever be, but this would not be an easy duel.
Ser Gerold may not be the finest sword among the Kingsguard, Arthur with Dawn had no equal among the brotherhood or without and Ser Barristan was renowned in the realm and beyond for a reason, but he had served among the white cloaks for decades and earned his post as Lord Commander.
The White Bull still commanded strength beyond his advanced age and as one of the men that had trained Ser Jaime, he was well placed to expect everything the blond youth would throw at him. Neither of the two were in their primes, one not yet the other not anymore, but which would prevail she could not say with confidence.
Squires retreated, their tasks fulfilled, leaving only the two duellists in the middle of the Great Hall. Excited muttering quieted as sharp steel was bared to everyone's eyes.
Next to her, Rhaella hushed her visibly excited son, though Prince Viserys did not seem like to heed her for long.
The Queen Mother's pregnancy, a last vestige of Aerys' maligned reign, was not yet as far along as Ashara's, the signs not as easily visible, and no official announcements had been made to the realm or even the court.
Rhaegar stood and raised his arms, surrounded by the blades of those that had defied Targaryen conquest three centuries ago. Fanfares blew on his signal and the combat began.
Ser Gerold advanced boldly, sword hammering down, intent on forcing the younger man to his knees and ending the fight quickly. Yet Jaime Lannister would not fall so easily.
He stepped with the blows, his shield never anywhere it should not be, and then his own sword flashed in turn, forcing Ser Gerold to maintain a vigil. Steel met steel again and again as blows were traded between the two knights, neither of whom seemed capable of gaining an advantage over the other.
Another blow came down with all the force the White Bull could impart, and Ser Jaime had to use his own sword to block, his shield forced wide by the last deflection. Steel slid against steel, struggling for an opening. Ser Gerold found one, gaining the advantage.
His sword struck, stabbing at Jaime Lannister's face and drew blood before the younger man could retreat. First blood was drawn by age, not youth, and the crowd of onlookers cheered lustily.
Suddenly on the back foot, Jaime retreated, deflecting a rain of steel, while paying the trail of blood weeping down his cheek no more attention than a deep grimace. He was quick on his feet, more so than Ser Gerold in her estimation, and that small wound seemed only to have fully brought the desperation of this situation to the surface.
"There is no escape from justice or dishonour, boy!" Gerold Hightower boomed in a moment of separation. "You sullied our cloaks with treachery and murder and only your blood will wash them clean again!"
A dozen exchanges followed, steel and hard wood flowing against each other like water in an attempt to get past the other's defense. When next Ser Gerold intercepted a strike with his pure white shield, his block unexpectedly broke.
Elia suddenly recalled word of the Kingswood Brotherhood and Ser Gerold's injury while attempting to deal with them. His left hand it had been then, as it was today, the strength giving out for barely a moment.
But that moment was enough and quick as a cat Ser Jaime lunged, extending the strike, his sword finding first the steel of Ser Gerold's gorget and then the flesh and blood of his face above that.
Sharp steel tore skin without issue, sliding across bone, and the White Bull's attempt to evade the tip of the sword only worsened the wound tearing open his face as steel caught in the gap between helmet and face for a devastating moment, making the onlookers hiss and crow.
Jaime Lannister retreated, evading the wild strike coming for his armpit where only mail protected him, and left a ghastly wound behind. Then he maintained a distance, allowing time to possibly accomplish what his strike had not done immediately.
Queen Rhaella had inhaled sharply, one hand covering her mouth for the bloody horror of Ser Gerold's face while young Prince Viserys twisted his mouth in despair, sitting restlessly in his chair, and cried, "No! Kill him, you have to kill him!" when Ser Gerold swayed on his feet.
But the White Bull found his strength, standing despite the blood streaming down the front of his armour. It was difficult to say how bad the wound truly was from that distance, but right now it seemed rather likely that she would not find out.
Elia chanced a glance upwards to where Rhaegar sat. Her husband betrayed none of his feelings, looking on sternly as Ser Gerold raised a lowered blade again, seemingly gaining a second wind, but she thought his hands looked to be gripping onto the melted sword hilts too tightly.
With a rustle of steel and a wet, rasping cough Ser Gerold drew her attention back to the fight still going on in the middle of the hall. He stood tall, no matter the ruin half his face had been left in, sword and shield raised and eyes hard through the pain visible only in a harsh grimace that pulled on the slashed cheek like a mummer's puppet strings. "This battle is not over."
Once more, he was the one to advance first, seemingly uncaring of the injury even though Elia knew that he would not last like that. Blood-loss and pain and exhaustion were a tightening noose around the White Bulls neck, robbing air and eventually life the longer this continued.
But until that time came, he would rage. He struck with desperate strength, shield more an improvised weapon than a tool for defence; another of the bull's horns, just like his sword.
Ser Jaime was still quick on his feet, single-minded focus on every step, parry, and riposte to keep him away from strength that would punch through mail without issue to reach the flesh and blood underneath, but if anything that quickness was being pushed to its limit even more than it had been before.
A twist away eventually was too much. Ser Jaime's sword was forced wide, too wide to come around and counter, while the hammer of Ser Gerold's sword occupied the lion's shield. Moving was the only available option and yet a turn and twist of the Lord Commander's sword struck Jaime's sword hand from below, where the protection was not plate but mail.
Elia thought she heard bone break, though that was nothing but imagination at this distance, but whether broken, sprained, or hurt in some other fashion, the end result was the same.
Ser Jaime was gritting his teeth against the pain, instinctively grabbing for the injured wrist, while his sword clattered to the stone floor of the Great Hall. "Hng!"
Years of training meant that he had the presence of mind to make distance despite the pain, evading the savage reverse cut coming for him, but he was still left with only his shield. Forced even more on the defensive than before, Jaime Lannister stumbled backwards around the arena, strong under the downpour of attacks yet not unyielding.
Breaths coming in harsh pants, Ser Gerold forced ever more aggression out of his surely tired body, and one more time, his sword slipped through the cracks. Sharp steel wove around the shield and under the plate-armoured arm.
Pushed away by the steel rim around wood, the tip came away bloody.
Ser Jaime's arm twitched harshly, a spasm of agony, even if protective mail and padding had prevented too much penetration, and traces of fear joined the proud grimace hiding pain.
"Yes! Yes!" Prince Viserys cried triumphant, near shaking with excitement, before his mother shushed him, her own eyes wide. Belatedly, Elia remembered that Lady Joanna Lannister, Jaime's late mother, had been a dear friend and lady-in-waiting to Rhaella in her early years as queen.
"Fa–Face your fate, boy!" Ser Gerold bellowed between deep, exhausted breaths. They had been fighting for some time by now, his wound continuously trickling precious lifeblood, and age had its costs. How much longer battle rush would keep him going, Elia could not say, though she worried that it would fade all too soon.
"Hah!" Disguising fear in anger, Jaime Lannister roared, suddenly rushing forward and going on the offensive.
Raising a sword that had been lowered unconsciously in a slowly slackening grip, Ser Gerold nearly lost his footing when the younger knight barrelled into him. He kept it but just so, feet moving backward to keep his balance while his sword lashed out in an awkward, sloppy strike that found only crimson and gold plate that would not yield.
Had Ser Gerold been fresh and uninjured, he would have no doubt dealt easily with such a desperately foolish assault, but he was neither, and with steel-shod feet tangling with each other and youthful strength still pushing it was no surprise when both combatants suddenly crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
They struggled against each other, arms and legs and elbows and knees making steel impact steel.
Elia could see little from where she sat, could not quite discern who was gaining an advantage and how, but then there was a terrible howl from Ser Gerold and Ser Jaime pushed free.
The White Bull was clutching his face, writhing in agony on the ground, while his young opponent found his formerly discarded weapon. Jaime Lannister's helmet was askew, and one of the leather straps holding his shield to his arm had loosened, but as he got to his feet with a weapon in hand, the winner of this trial was clear.
He was tired as well, visible in the slow steps, measured in a way to avoid falling, and a rivulet of blood trickled down the side of his armour where Ser Gerold had found a gap, but even with both arms compromised in some way, pushing the point of his sword home against a downed opponent was easy enough.
The blade shook slightly as Ser Jaime brought it close, holding it vertically over Ser Gerold's face, where it would take nothing but leaning his body's weight on the blade to drive steel home and end the life of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Silence reigned, the Great Hall held its breath, and Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, looked up with bleary, defiant eyes, facing death with the same bold strength that had gained him fame in life.
"Enough!" came the call from the top of the Iron Throne, loud enough to fill the hall and calm despite that. Rhaegar stood among the blades; eyes fixed on the arena. "The Gods have made clear their judgement. Ser Jaime Lannister is innocent in the sight of Gods and Men and the Crown rescinds any accusation against him. This trial is over."
Before any shock or outrage could make itself heard, he continued. "Grandmaester Pycelle, see that all necessary treatment is taken care off. Lord Tarly, arrange an escort for Ser Jaime. Once he is on the path to recovery, he will be sent from the capital."
I hope you enjoyed chapter 43.
I'm sorry about the long delay, but when I was writing another chapter and thinking about the further developments, I realized that this part had to happen first to avoid confusing jumps around. So I had to switch chapters halfway through, and then this chapter fought me, for whatever reason.
The Feathered Kiss is the ship of Sarella Sand's mother, a Summer Islander captain. It is probably a swan ship, like the Cinnamon Wind, which is GRRM's version of caravel/carrack-type ships as I understand it. Ocean travel, if it needs to be said, isn't exactly comfortable on non-modern sailing ships, especially when pregnant.
Remember, Elia does not know about Rhaegar's words to Naruto, officially. She has plausible deniability in all of this. Dismissing a lady-in-waiting for incautious words and, well, insults to crown and king, wouldn't be unthinkable. Alaric might not be pleased, this reflects on House Dayne even if Ashara is already married, but he also can't really do anything about it.
What exactly Naruto and Ashara planned/did should be kind of obvious, I hope.
Rhaegar is called able and the last dragon in canon, and Barristan should know I suppose, but he is as green as Robb was when it comes to command. He has never been in a real battle, though he is a somewhat accomplished tourney knight.
Jaehaerys II was Rhaegar's grandfather and king during the War of the Nine Penny Kings, but he remained on Westerosi soil while his Hand Ormund Baratheon, Robert's grandfather, took command of the armies. When Ormund died, Gerold Hightower took the command for the remaining fighting. Jaehaerys was physically unimpressive: sickly, slight, etc., and Rhaegar isn't, but reputations and rumors don't need to be based in truth entirely.
There is some question as to Gerold Hightower's age, since we never get a birthyear. I pictured him as somewhere in his fifties or sixties now, basically the Barristan of canon. He has been Lord Commander for more than two decades by this point and usually that post would go to the most experienced member of the group. Jaime in the books is kind of outlier.
Trial by combat doesn't need to end in death, not in Westeros and not in our own history. Lyonel Baratheon yielded against Ser Duncan the Tall, ending his short stint as Storm King, for example. It is also a bit tricky as far as innocence and guilt are concerned. Officially Jaime is now innocent. The Seven have made that clear, but George's character - though often not religious enough in my view - do correctly see that this is just a tool in the end. It's really more getting away with things, not having never done them, at least to most characters.
Jaime is now out of the Kingsguard. Which has some significant implications for his character going forward, as well as the rest of the Lannister family. But we'll get to that later.
As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Until next time. Hopefully, it won't take nearly as long.