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If King Rhaegar of house Targaryen, first of his name, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, had been alone at this moment, he might have laughed at the obscurity of the current situation.
The tent felt oppressive and hot, the fantastic night of the spring evening replaced with the humidity and heat of two dozen lords in full armor breathing and shouting for blood like hounds awaiting their next meal. It was not the King's first war council, nor did he suspect from the coming days, would this moment grow to be his last. But something about this moment felt monstrously crucial, as if the future history books of the continent would speak of this moment as defining as the conquest or the dance of dragons. It should have all been immensely intimidating, and for a moment, Rhaegar truly believed it have been if he had been the man he was but a year ago.
But now? Seeing the faces of the lords of the west and the remaining Crown lands red, their eyes blazing with fury, and their shouts akin to a throng of geese honking at one another in the early morning was more amusing than frightening.
"I must apologize for my lord's outburst." Rhaegar spoke, raising his hand like the only calm port in a storm, his lords quieting and returning to their seats silently to allow the new coming a chance to speak without interruption. "Please continue, lord Varys."
"I thank you, your grace, for your candor. I understand my words would be hard for many to accept." Lord Varys, the master of whispers whom his father had raised from the streets of Pentos like a patron would to an artist, bowed his head low as he spoke, the silks of his robes swaying with his movement. "But I fear the situation in King's Landing is far different than what your men left the city in a mere fortnight ago."
The insult was taken as intended but given in such a way that it almost sounded like a genuine compliment to the ears of some of the younger lords and knights in attendance.
"But as I was saying before I was interrupted, I am here by the will of His Grace, King Eddard of House Stark, first of his name, the Kings of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm." The round little man said, wearing the rooms occupants anxieties and mistrust like a warm comforting cloak on a cold night."He wishes for the hostilities between your houses to stopped and peace to reign across the realm."
For a moment, Rhaegar believed the assembled lords would erupt into a fresh round of hysterics, their voices becoming a chorus of threats against the man who stole the throne right from under there very noses. Still, it seemed the reality of their current situation had settled in, their confusion and anger transforming into a shocked horror as a caterpillar does to a butterfly.
"That is unfortunate." Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, Kings of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, stared down the length of the council table, resisting the urge to laugh as Tywin Lannister tried desperately to remain impassive look on his harsh face
"A man claims your ancestral throne, your Grace." The Western lord spoke, his booming voice as controlled as it ever was despite the fire behind his eyes." Usurps your titles and home and forces the people of kings landing to obey him over threats of death, and the only word you can speak to describe it is unfortunate? Perhaps..."
"Perhaps I should worry about my cousin and armies marching south as we speak before we deal with the man behind the walls? The man who wishes to splatter my insides until they are on the outside is more worrisome than the man who sits on my father's chair at the moment."
"Your grace..."
"When the time comes to attack King's Landing, I will lean on your expertise, Lord Tywin. But for now, I fear Robert's attack on us from behind is more dangerous."
Tywin Lannister swallowed the incredulity that drifted behind his eyes. His teeth grinding stopped long enough for the rest of the council, mostly Westerners to Rhaegar's dismay, to settle back into their chairs.
"And by peace, he means for me to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness for my supposed crimes?" Rhaegar spoke, his eyes never leaving the eunchs own, the two battling an invisible war with the other over who would break first. "You must excuse my ignorance in the way of warring kings, but how do two men who call themselves such create anything but war and conflict."
"He means for justice to be served and for peace to be established before he may return north to Winterfell. King Eddard wishes not for a crown and only sits upon the throne to put the city back into order. Being King has made doing that much easier."
"You are telling me he's willing to give up the crown and the throne?" Lord Tywin spoke again, his voice as rich as his polished armor, his gilded lions snarling and roaring as he tapped his fingers rhythmically against the wood of the table."The man has the realm in his hands and he so willingly throws his advantages away as easy as a man takes a breath? the man is either a mad man or a fool."
"I must say I've become quite accustomed to seeing the ramblings of mad men during my time here in the red keep, so the soundness of Eddard Starks mind must be taken on my word," the spider spoke again, his small eyes looking like that of a doll staring blankly into a child's face. " I understand that men view honor so poorly they often mistake it for foolishness but you must make that decision for yourself your grace when the time comes to meet with him."
"When does he expect me to see him?"
"I do not expect a king or such powerful lords to rush into a decision so quickly your grace, i understand how often diplomacy moves at the speed of its weakest chain."the mummer said simply, his eyes betraying none of the emotions he must have felt at the mocking stares of so many directed at him, looking akin to an overfed house cat giving little notice to the growls of muzzled hounds behind their cages." I would however recommend you make your choice before Robert Baratheon arrives with his armies. I fear his anger and war-hammer will do nothing but complicate matters, don't you agree?"
For a moment, the tent was silent, the oppressive weight and stress of the situation feeling less like a life-or-death situation and more like the beginnings of a joke to the dragon king's ears.
The news of Robert Baratheon's survival from his injuries sustained at the battle of the Trident had been a surprise for Rhaegar but not something he had already given considerable thought to. Despite the word lord Cunningham, the reader's oldest friend and newly minted hand of the King, Robert was no fool, and when properly motivated, he could and would be a danger to any man foolish enough to stand before him.
"This has been confirmed?"
"I would not put it past the rebels to lie about something like this to keep their morale up, but I highly doubt so many trusted men would write about this unless they have seen it with their own eyes.
"But he is injured?" Kevan Lannister asked from across the table.
"He is, Ser Kevan. Reports differ on how badly, but all reports speak that Robert Baratheon breaths and in the coming days will move to come south once his armies have recovered enough."Rhaegar nodded again, the weight of his crown feeling heavier than usual as he spoke to the DeFacto second in command of his western forces." the man is persistent if anything."
"How many men?"
"Thirty thousand may be more or less, but around thirty thousand is the number most agree on."
"That certainly makes our attack on the capital harder than it should have been. Recapturing King's landing would be hard enough with our number advantage. I fear it almost impossible if the usurper arrives from the north."
"Then we attack now! We won't have to worry about Roberts' forces if we take the city before he arrives!"
"Attacking Northmen behind a wall is a suicide."
Trying to wait out and siege against a Northman is a suicide, one that is long and drawn out. Trying to attack a northern stronghold is a you want every knight or squire, you must become food for crows' I'd suggest we wait for reinforcements.
"Lord Mace Tyrell reports he is less than a week away from the capital. I say we wait for the reach forces to combine our armies,"
"Wait for Mace Tyrell to save us? We're better off walking into a lake with rocks in our pockets than expecting the fat flower to be the deciding factor in this war."
"A hundred thousand reach men would be the deciding factor. If we are patient, we'd have three times the rebels' numbers."
"Or we sit with our thumbs up our arses waiting on a man who couldn't starve our children for a year while their angry elder brother breaks our skulls with his war hammer."
"All the while, a northern barbarian sits upon the Iron Throne, watching us run around like chickens with their heads cut off."
"What of Eddard Stark then? perhaps there is another way to eliminate our northern problem. The city's gates have remained closed since he arrived and pushed our forces out of the city, but if we had a man on the inside..." Tywin considered for a moment; his description of the sack of kings landing lacked the horror that Rhaegar was sure others would describe that day, but he chose to ignore it for the time being. "sometimes all it takes is one good man in the right place at the right time to end a war."
"We have supporters in the city, and we may even have a few men left loyal in the red keep, but messages are few and far between." The hand of the King answered, but the lord of Griffin roost did not sound confident. "They won't act unless they have a plan of escape, and the northerners are paranoid. If we had an inside man able to slip word to our agents..."
"I regret to inform you, my lord, that I am not here to offer my services to the king." Varys spoke again, the barely hidden roll of his eyes enough to show, at least to Rhaegar, how little he thought of the Griffon Lord." I gave my word to the party that sent me that I was simply to provide the King with a message. No more, no less."
Lord Varys had arrived at the council when Rhaegar received word of his cousin Roberts's survival injuries as if they were all part of the Spiders' elaborate web of plans, Rhaegar wondered just how much of this meeting had been planed and how much of it had not been. Varys did not seem like the type who would let his plans to be affected by the unknown, silently watching and thinking of every possible outcome as the lords spoke to themselves, his simple smile and almost gleeful eyes betraying the intelligence and cunning beneath the surface.
A distinct feeling of being a game piece on a board for a game whose rules he did not fully understand filled Rheager with dread for the coming days. However, when one was King; one must ignore one's individual comfort to do what needed to be done.
"Are you we to believe that the followers of seven who call this city their homes are not willing to eliminate an apostate from their true King's home?
"I regret, my lord, that while some in the city may be uncomfortable with the current occupation, the High Septon specifically," The spymaster's face took on a pained expression that didn't fully meet his eyes." Many in the city have shown great appreciation for our northern neighbors these past few days."
Eddard Stark should have been with the rest of the rebel's armies at the Trident but had managed to slip straight out of the Riverlands to attack the royal forces from the south. This placement allowed the young stark of Winterfell to rush to aid the capital city in its time of need, leaving the Lannister forces smashed like a broken bell.
The battle of the Trident should have ended this war, but now it seemed it was just the beginning of struggles for an even bloodier conflict over the horizon. His father was dead, his capital ransacked, and all seven of his kingdoms engaged in a civil war, the likes of which had not been seen since the dance over a hundred and fifty years ago.
"Stark holds the throne for Robert, then? "
"No, your Grace, I do not believe he holds the city for his foster brother specifically, nor do I think it likely that King Eddard is planning on giving the throne up to anyone who wishes to force him."
"But he's willing to give it to me, but only if I choose to meet with him in the great hall of my home without my armies to protect myself and only on the word of the enemy who stole by birthright that my safety is assured."
"King Eddard's honor takes guest rights as seriously as any lord has my grace." Varys bowed his head, the subtle insult that Rhaeger would receive guest rights to the home he grew up in lingering in the air before he raised his round face back up to look deeply into Rhaeger's amethyst eyes." If one cannot trust Eddard Stark to be honorable, I genuinely fear the realm is lost."
"My men wish for me to attack the city gates, to battle the northern forces before his allies make it south. Others believe I should wait until the full force of the Reach joins us to whip out the rebel forces once and for all. You were my father's master of whispers, and from what I can tell..." This time, he did stare into Tywin Lannister's eyes, the golden shield of the West flinching ever so slightly at the stare on his young King. "You were the only one of his advisors who was truly loyal to him until the end. So speak to me as an advisor would his King and advise me."
Varys said nothing momentarily, only looking into the Targaryen kings' eyes with a questioning look upon his face.
"Eddard Stark wishes to speak with you, the offer he gives you is genuine, and I would recommend in the strongest words to take the offer my grace. Eddard Stark wishes this war to be over as soon as any man I have ever seen and is willing to hear your concerns regarding how justice could, would, and should be delivered."
"You ask me to trust a man who calls himself king..."
"A title he only took in order to pull the city back from the brink of chaos your grace, and one he is looking forward to giving up as soon as he can." For a moment the guarded tone of the spider broke, the expertly contained anxiety rushing forward for a moment before it was willed back under lock in key without even a second notice. "Lord Stark wishes for justice to be delivered and for the senseless death to end. Promise him your readiness to face justice for your crimes, your grace, and he will step down from the iron throne, renounce the crown, and accept the justice the gods demand for whatever crimes the lords of Westeros demand."
The council erupted into jeers. The audacity of the foreign man's tongue offended the very sensibilities of the assembled men like no other words could. A king on trial? It begged common sense and spat on the laws and customs that had ruled the seven kingdoms since they were founded.
"And what prey tell is King Stark willing to do for me when I face his justice?"
"He is willing to stand for the crimes of treason he has committed against your grace, and of the gods, so be it to view him guilty for his crimes, then he is willing to give his life for it."
The jeers ended without delay, and for a moment, Rhaegar felt his soul leave his body.
"You jest?"
"I would never jest about something like this,your grace,' the silk-like wobble of the master of whispers filled Rhaegar's ears; whatever mocking smile the Essos native wore when he spoke of his little birds and the secrets they sang of was gone, replaced with a voice that felt to his ears as blood-soaked and foreboding as the walls of the red keep."I fear a trial by council is the only way you rule a realm that is not ash."
"Prey tell lord Varys." King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, did not like the round little man who stood before him, but the gods knew he had his part to play in what was to come. "What exactly do you beg me to reconsider?"
Despite knowing full well that Rhaegar knew precisely what the perfume-scented murmur was speaking of, Varys did not indicate the building frustration he must have been feeling. For sure, the small, round little man did not even flinch as he stepped toward his King, his head low and back bent into a bow. Rhaegar knew he couldn't trust his father's master of whispers, not yet, at least.
Lord Eddard Stark bids you a chance to end this war without more death." the man's thick accent shone through his false reverence for his King, something that Rhaegar never remembered hearing whenever the man spoke to his father in this very throne room, perhaps the man was not as cold-blooded as he once assumed?" I'm afraid that if you go about with what you are planning... the realm will bleed for an entire generation, maybe more."
If Lord Stark is so adamant about this not ending in bloodshed, all he must do is accept the King's justice and return Kings landing to his sovereign, which is by all rights of men and god, the one and true king of the seven kingdoms." While Rhaegars friend and Hand spoke passionate, the words felt hollow to the dragon kings ears. "To think an upstart like him dares to make orders from his betters. A traitor sitting upon a throne that does not belong to him hiding in a city he does not belong."
"I assure you, my lord hand, the city's mood is far different than you assumed. The people of King Landing are far more appreciative of the northern forces within their gates than the lions outside them. Smallfolk, I'm afraid, don't have the proper education to understand that the men who raped their mothers and wives and murdered their children in their beds are noble soldiers now that they have bent the knee to their one true King."
"You dare to speak to King Rhaegar as if he was a common warlord!? I do not know how you crawled out of eunuch, but better men than you have lost entire limbs for far less!"
Rhaegar felt himself rise from his makeshift throne with the grace of a lion and the bearing of a king, raising his hand to signal his assembled lords to calm themselves and to sheath their swords.
"lord Varys, you are not a native of Westeros. So, I will give you some credence due to your ignorance of the subject. "Rhaegar said as he stepped out from behind the table, the carved wooden pieced and painted map detailing numerous different plans to attack Kings-landing forgotten as he stared intently into the spy master's own, an action that would have unnerved most any man, but only recovered a raised eyebrow from his father's former spymaster. "It may not be the case in Pentos, but here in Westeros, treason can only be met by death. Any man, whether he be high born or low born, will be put to death for his crimes."
"You misunderstand me when I say to head Eddard Strark's words, not because I wish for him to remain in the South but because listening to his words is simply the only move you can make that doesn't involve thousands losing their lives needlessly." the spider said, his eyebrow raised and his smooth brow wrinkled. "I find it strange how easy that word leaves your lips my King when describing a man willing to stand for whatever crimes you believe he committed and is willing to hand you back your crown without another drop of blood spilled."
Rhaegar let the words toss within his mind, weighing his options and finding, despite whatever misgiving he had regarding the offer, it seemed to be the easiest and dare he say, safest bet regarding regaining the throne.
Despite what his hand or his assembled lords thought on the subject, the facts was that an army of twenty thousand men held his city, battle-hardened and as fierce as a winter storm, led by a man who had proven himself as adept a military leader as any man could claim for their first war. Rhaegar had studied Warcraft his entire life, consuming every book in every language from every empire ever written on the subject, and even he was bound to make mistakes that his northern counterpart simply did not make.
Robert Baratheon is a warrior that few men could hope to stand against, but anyone with a thinking brain knew it was Rickard Starks's second son who had won Robert the war so far.
Even with over twice the men at Rhaegars disposal, the combined weight of the forces of the West and Crownlands, taking the city from Eddard Stark and his Northmen, would be akin to throwing his men into a sausage grinder.
"It would be a blood bath, your grace, and the small folk would suffer the most. The people of this city seem to be a reflection of the rest of the seven kingdoms; half starved and bloodied, they care little about who sits on the Iron Throne or how they came to sit there; they only wish for the violence to end."
"Is that a threat?"
Rhaegar felt his jaw tighten as he reigned his emotions in, an action that Varsys obviously saw. The former was intelligent enough to know how his words would affect headgear; each word was carefully chosen long before he had entered the royal forces command tent.
"Just a thought your grace, one I beg you to think about before making a decision you may regret. I understand it must be stressful to see your city and subjects rally behind a man who isn't you, but I employ to not let your allies convince you to choose war over diplomacy."
Rhaegar was not blind to what was happening behind the walls of his kingdom's capital city. After stopping the city's sack less than two weeks prior, his people had rallied behind the northern forces, booting the Lannister forces out of the city gates with the ferocity that matched the dire wolves upon the sigils that hung from every wall and flew from every tower. Lord Tywin had tried to justify his actions, explaining the treason he had committed away with a wave of his hand and bending the knee. Still, his carefully crafted oaths were barely audible over the sound of his citizens singing the praises of the rebel who now controlled the city.
"May I speak plainly with you, lord valleys?"
"A king does not need to ask permission to speak his mind," the man answered, somewhat more defensively than Rhaegar would have liked. He wasn't his father, after all. It wasn't as if the man before Rhaegar was in danger.
"I aim to be a different kind of king, my lord." Rhaegar smiled, the action doing little to smooth the wrinkles of the spiders' furred brows but enough to make the man take a step away to allow the taller man to walk past him. "Where my father was cruel and mad, I wish to be viewed as kind and just. I wish for people to look to me and not worry about whether I have their best interests at heart. Rest assured, under my rule, criminals, regardless of their stations..."
"Criminal?" the spider repeated, mock shock and confusion marring his face as he moved to regain control of the conversation. One could use many words to describe the young lord Stark, but if I were to write them on paper, I fear criminal would be relatively low on that particular list."
And what would you call the traitor?" Connington spoke up, receiving a look from the spymaster that reminded Rhaegar of a suffering master with an ill-equipped pupil. "It does not matter if you admire the boy for his actions; he betrayed his King and everything this kingdom stands for. If we allow him to go unpunished for his crimes, we are no better..."
"the crimes of trying to save his sister, my lord?" Or the crime of not allowing the former King., may the gods rest his soul, to burn him alive alongside the rest of his family? Or is lord Cunningham thinking of his defeat at the Battle of the Bells? I'm sure lord Stark will as quickly stand trial for your crushing defeat against him as he would for any crime you wish to levy at him."
"You're not actually listening to this? The man is justifying treason! Of declaring your cousin his one and true King, trying to strip you of what is yours, and declaring the man who does it hero's."
"You misunderstand me, my lord Connington . I am perhaps trying to press the wrongs with you. "I regret that you and I are speaking on different topics, and I must apologize for your misconceptions.
"Are you calling me a fool!?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, my lord's hand, because It does not matter what I call Eddard Stark; it's what this city calls him." the spider responded, cutting the storm lord off before he could finish what he would say. "Protector of the realm" and "Your Grace"
Varys remembered the day well and how the Lannister forces, clad in gold and red, flooded the city, destroying everything they could get their hands on. The streets ran red with the blood of the men they killed and the horrors they forced on those they left alive.
It was as if the seven hells had ripped open and unleashed all their evils onto the small folk of the city.
But as the sun fell in the sky, a rumble seemed to overtake a city, like the roar of some great wolf preparing to sink its teeth into the soft underbelly of a deer. Thousands of men clad in leather and boiled leather, with emblems of bears and giants, swamp lions and mermaids, dire wolves, and skinned men, descended upon the city like a demon of vengeance, their blades hungry for the blood of violent men.
"A title he does not hold. I assure you when the people hear that their King..."
"Fascinating my lord hand," Varys spoke, not bothering to hide his disdain for the lord of Griffins Roost. Despite having his manhood forced from him all those years ago, the spider had enough pride to feel offense at Lord Connington's failure against Robert at Stoney Sept." Indeed, it is truly an honor to have you back in the capital; I can feel my fears be put to rest knowing you will be intimately helping our King's reign, but I fear all the confidence you have in our Nobel king's abilities means nothing to me at the moment."
The eunuch stepped forward, now not even bothering to pretend he cared what Lord Cunningham had to say, an action that would have caused the storm lander to unsheathe his blade had it not been for the gentle gaze Rhaegar given him. The man was loyal to a fault, but if he was this quick to resort to violence, then perhaps his friend was not the best choice for the hand of the King, as Rhaegar initially assumed.
But despite those awe-inspiring words, I fear you misunderstand the city's mood." the spider said, his voice almost song-like as his perfume began to fill the throne room. "Despite the crown you wear upon your head or the titles your name follows, this city belongs to Eddard Stark. His men patrol the city streets, and his armies surround the city gates. The Dire wolf banner flies atop the red keep, and the people sing songs of a great wolf trying to save a fair winter maiden from the clutches of a mad dragon and his army of lions ready to rip and tear everything they hold dear."
Rhaegar frowned, the first visible sign of displeasure he allowed on his face when this conversation began. But despite his displeasure, he knew the man was right. The rumors of lord Tywins actions were disturbing, to say the least. Had the royal forces fared better at the battle of the Ruby Fork, then Rhaegar would have had the Lion of Lannister in chains. But in troubling times such as this, one did not have the luxury of choosing their friend.
If he knew then what he knew now, what the actual cost of Lannister steel and gold would mean in the eyes of his subjects, then he would have gladly thrown their words of friendship to the winds, but thoughts like that would do nothing now, not when the battle of their hearts and minds of the people had long since been lost.
He felt the urge to stare at the Lannister Lord, uncharacteristically silent, as he absorbed the words of the kingdom's spymaster. In any other situation, Rhaegar would have demanded Tywin's removal from his war council, stripped his lands and titles, and forced the lord to take the black for what he dared to do against the people of King's Landing.
But sometimes, one's morals must be ignored for the greater good.
By now, the whole of the continent knew of the outcome of the battle of the Trident, of how the armies of Westeros bleed deep and without end onto the soil and rock they fought on. So many said that the river would be dyed red for an entire generation and that the rocks of the riverbanks would be shown like rubies in the daylight.
Tens of thousands of lives were lost in a single afternoon, their bodies as broken and torn apart as the realm itself and no clear victor. Rhaegar had been told his cousin, the Rebel Robert Baratheon, raged in the center of the battlefield, throwing grown men across the river like a child would to a rag doll, roaring like some demon as he looked for the last dragon.
As the sun fell into darkness, the cries of the dead rising like wounded prey left to die slowly by its hunter, the two armies broke apart. Had Rhaegar known, he would have deemed it appropriate to spill the blood of the storm lord himself, but the chaos of the battlefield system allows for such personal battles.
Rhaegar thought he remembered a septon speak of such things, of how the world seemed to unfold to the will of gods, and how the mere mortals were nothing more than the pawns of destiny, forced to play in a game whose they did not understand by players they could not see.
But while songs had already been written and sung describing the blood and death that spilled from the battlefield, Rheagar was on the move south, the news of his father's death and the capital sacking filling his ears with each passing day.
"Hung every man who attempted to commit rape," he listened to an old woman and her tear-stained brood whisper of the wolf lord personally ripping a red-cloaked Westerland lord off her youngest daughter from the ransacked husk that was their home." took the head of a dozen men the first day. Took the head of twice that many the second. He let me watch as the man who killed my husband and tried to violate my daughter begged for his life before he swiped his blade. I call that justice."
Justice was a common word thrown at Rhaegar by all he met. The wolf lords' justice was brutal, with no quarter given to lord or knight above the small folk they led. Rheager could feel the resentment and horror of the high-borns who followed him, but he would be lying if he didn't see the beauty in delivering justice, blind to a man's status.
"No one was above the law."
"You believe we should fear a man whose life we hold in the palm of our hands?" The Griffin lord spoke again, the sneer on his face feeling harsher from the fresh scars that littered his features." by the end, the forces of the Reach will be upon us, over a hundred thousand swords added to the fifty at our backs. I don't care how good of a commander the Stark whelp thinks he is. We will crush him and every man who fights alongside him."
"And then the city will revolt." Varys said, a slight edge to his voice that he could not bring himself to remember ever hearing the - use before today.
"You speak as if you are on the side of our enemies, Lord Varys. Should I be worried?"
"I speak for the benefit of the realm, your grace, not for a single man or lord. And the realm has bled too much already," the plump man spoke, his powered pale features like the ghost of some far-off fireside story as he stared up to the faces of the taller man, " if the realm would prosper from showing mercy to a man who did not deserve it then so be it. It just so happens that your lord of the north is a man with whom the realm would be a poorer place without."
"You seem to admire him."
"I do. Not many men would be willing to give up a crown that the people have begged him to take since his arrival; even fewer men would do so when he has as many great lords of the realm to do so. Robert Baratheon does not wish the crown and only declared it to kill you to save his lady love; he'd bend the knee if it was his foster brother who asked him; I fear their friendship would blossom even more If King Eddard were to save Robert from ruling. Lord Arryn would follow him as well; one foster son or the other does not matter to the eagle lord and Hoster Tully; I'm sure the prospect of his eldest daughter becoming queen is not unpleasant to the man."
"We have the west and the reach and all the gold and manpower we need to put down the rebellion, my king." Lord Cunningham spoke again, actual offense dripping from his words at the implication of their current, correct situation." You give me the word, and I will win your city from him."
"The discontent grows by the day your grace and Robert Baratheon and the rest of the rebel armies march closer and closer. You can either end this war peacefully and with words, or an entire generation of your subjects will be buried underneath your feet."
"With my head on a spike? You wish me to bend the knee and accept my punishments, right?"
"My grace, you were the man who claimed you wished to be a different kind of King than your father. Unless I was mistaken?"
"You wish to put a king to a trial!? Are you mad? Or are you just stupid? This is another one of Easterners' dangerous ideas; your grace! As I have told you many times before..."
"Enough lord Cunningham. I fear your defense is unwarranted. I'm sure lord Varys did not intend to cause offense by his words."
"You misunderstand me, your grace, I fully intended to cause offense." The round man bowed his shoulders like a pantomime, working toward his next meal. "I feared there was no way to convey my horror at the current situation. I would hate to see the last true dragon of the Targaryen dynasty be ripped about and torn by his subjects because he refuses to forgive the sins of a man who had every right in the eyes of men and the gods to take justice in his own hands."
"Another rebellion, you mean?"
"A revolution, your grace. One whose fires will burn castles to the ground like matchbooks and fill the streets with the blood of countless innocence."
"Frightening words im sure, but words none the less." Lord Tywin spoke, his green eyes boring into Rhaegars skull like the lion on his sigil sinking its teeth into his skull." You come to us like a thief in the night unafraid of the consequences on the word of an enemy of the crown and you expect not to suffer for this?"
"I assure you my lord, I trust our king's ability to keep the peace and to protect the messenger in trying times such as this. Besides, it was not the good King Stark who asked me to come and speak to you about the folly you plan on committing. The northern convoy will arrive when the sun rises and grant you a letter barring Eddard Starks request. We simply believed you deserved more time to consider your next action."
"We?"
"Myself and your lady wife, Princess Elia." the eunuch's words felt like a punch to the young King's gut, his wife's name like the phantom pain of a wound he had almost forgotten about. He felt his eyes travel to lord Tywin, watching the old man stiffen in his seat as the spymaster continued. "She assured me you would need an extra push in the right direction to see the truth; The princess is quite an impressive woman when given the chance to show it; one is quite surprised by what she is capable of."
The Silver King said nothing for what felt like hours to the men in his presence, his dark purple eyes clouding in thought as he weighed his response as carefully as the iron bank would a high-risk but high-reward account. He had survived his father, defeated Roberts's army on the battlefield, and now wore the crown of Aegon the conqueror, not in any way he had planned for, but the gods made quick work of the plans of mice and men. Out of all the possible outcomes, Rhaegar had planned and prepared for. But for all the spice of Essos or gold of the Westerlands, he could not imagine his people and subjects willingly choosing another over him. Rhaegar had studied and trained for years, preparing to be a better ruler than those who came before since he could walk and read.
The very idea of his subjects rising against him at the tournament of Harrenhal would have seemed idiotic just a year ago, but this past year had opened his eyes in ways he couldn't have imagined before.
Before Lyanna.
"I will speak to lord stark myself." King Rhaegar said finally, the weight of his words crashing down like a wave of shipbreakers bay, before turning around to stare at his assembled lords. "If he is willing to listen. Then I do not see how we cannot create an arrangement that benefits all."
"And if he refuses to see reason? "Jon Cunningham said, the eyes of every man in the tent falling onto Rhaegar as they await his answer." What then?"
"Then the realm will burn," Varys answered, his voice harsher than the soft wobble he spoke with before, the weight of what the next few days would entail feeling like the calm before an approaching storm. But Rhaegar did not waver, his eyes gleaming at the approaching challenge like he hoped the heroes of old did in the tales and songs of his childhood, which he loved so much.
"Then let us hope that the song of ice and fire will bring us the peace we all strive for."
TBC