Rhaella had never seen Jane nervous. Granted, she wasn't sure that the Spartan woman was nervous. But she had made a few abscent-minded cuts in her work today and had to start over with a fresh piece. That was a level of distraction that Rhaella had never seen on her friend. The day had been a rather lovely one so far. Lyanna was exercising what little movement she had left now that she was eight moons into her pregnancy and was walking through the gardens with several of Rhaella's ladies in waiting, who Lyanna had begun to take as her own in the absence of a household.
As such, Rhaella was spending the day with Elia, who was sitting with Lady Ashara Dayne and sewing peacefully with her while Jane worked on her latest sculpture. The lady of Starfall seemed melancholy since she had arrived, and Rhaella had long since suspected that it was due to the child that she carried, or more specifically, whoever it was that was the father of the child.
Rhaella herself was feeling a sense of trepidation over the incoming arrival of new life. Both Lyanna and Elia it seemed were due to take to the birthing bed any day now, and Rhaella herself had only recently begun to suspect that her husband's last visit after the burning of his former hand had left her pregnant.
The suspicion, which was becoming more of a certainty for her by the day, had left her feeling a great conflict of emotion. On the one hand, Rhaegar and Viserys had been perhaps the only things to make her her marriage to her husband bearable as he had descended into madness and the cool courtesy of their union had likewise deteriorated into a silent loathing compaounded by every miscarriage or still-born child. On the other, with the tenuous position of her family in the realm, and her past experiences in losing her children, could she bear to bring another into the world.
It seemed though that any choice was being taken for her though, as her husband and son seemed determined that she kept under strict watch to ensure the safety of her new child. She appreciated Rhaegar's concern, though Aerys' was a mad paranoia more than care for her or their soon to be born babe. Either way she found herself more and more concerned about the future. The loss of the royal army at Stoney Sept had been a terrible blow to the morale of the loyalists, and Mace Tyrell's continued seige of Storm's End did little to liven the spirits of those who knew of it. If anything, the thought of Stannis and Renly, the sons of her cousin Steffon and his wife Cassana, starving and dying while trapped behind their walls filled her with sorrow. She almost hoped that Lord Tyrell might storm the castle, if only to keep her cousins from the torture that was starvation.
The sound of the door to their chambers opening broke the women from the calm, comfortable silence that they had built over their time. Looking up from their various endeavours, Rhaella was surprised to find Ser Shane was standing at the door, looking almost nervous as he glanced between them before his eyes set on Jane.
"Jane." He said. "Message from the captain. It's for you."
Rhaella's gaze darted between the two, and she thought she saw Jane's throat bob as if she was swallowing thickly before the woman stood and marched towards the door. Before she left however, she turned back to the three woman she had shared the room with and offered a nod of her head.
"Excuse me, I have to take this." She said.
Rhaella wondered why she couldn't have simply read the message in the room, or why Ser Shane had not handed Jane the scroll, but given the fact that both seemed to be expressing more nervousness, if it was that, than Rhaella had ever seen from the spartans before, she worried over what news might have come east from the Plataea.
"Of course Jane." She smiled, trying to be considerate to her friend even as she left. "Please, make sure to speak with me later. I would very much enjoy your company for dinner tonight."
Jane simply offered a nod of her head and a few word.
"Of course Rhaella." And just like that, she was gone.
The queen of Westeros' gaze lingered on the door for a few moments longer, wondering what massage might have passed between the spartans and their lord. Jane had never made such exits before and never had she been called in such a way in order to respond to any messages. In fact, Rhaella could not remember an instance when the spartans of House Terra had been delivered messages from their lord. While Rhaella did not keep an ear out for what ravens arrived from where, nor did she seek out sich information from the Grand Maester, she was not blind to the messages that were run across the Red Keep. Never once had any such messages been ferried from the Plataea to the Spartans. The only time any communications were passed to them were when the small household Jane had formed had relayed communications between members already in the keep.
Rhaella had not seen any of Jane's companions though, not since they had left with Ser Shane near a week ago. The young spartan had returned the next day, but none of the children they had brought in from the city had. Gossip on that topic was rife throughout the castle. After all, it was not everyday that an entire household of children disappeared following their head into the woods.
Rhaella shook herself of those thoughts. Jane had never once given her reason to think she had meant ill will to those children she took in, not to mention that Ser Shane, Ser Robert, and Lord Kurt had all expressed interest in them.
Either way, Rhaella believed in her friend. She knew that with the war going on, there were alliances shifting at all times, but she hoped that she had earned enough trust from Jane for the woman to speak on her behalf, if not on behalf of her family.
Jane stood at attention, back straight and the picture of discipline as Kurt watched her. The holo-tank projecting the form of her commanding officer into the otherwise empty room showed the man at his full height, taller than Jane, and taller than anyone Jane had ever known. The two stood in silence, both standing perfectly straight and waiting. The meeting had begun a little over a minute ago, and Jane wondered why her Commander was staying silent, just observing her. Likely it was because of her addition to the known scenario plans that the UNSC would be working with in the eventuality that took action in resolving the war.
Jane wondered how her captain saw her addition. On the one hand, the scenario plans were compiled and produced by her team, alongside Fireteams Hotel and India, and so she had every right to voice her opinion on them. On the other, Scenario-Omicron was a plan unlike most of the others in several key ways, and the fact that it was entirely her own creation, without imput from the other teams assigned to organising their responses meant that there were questions that needed to be asked.
That was probably why the captain had requested to speak with her privately. The other Spartans had been told to leave the room and wait in the quarters previously assigned to Gamma Company's prospective members.
"Spartan A-203."
That was not a good sign, and if Jane were anything less than a Spartan, she might have let some of her newly felt nervousness show. As it was, she felt the slightest twitch in her left eyebrow, nothing that anyone would normally notice, but even over a holo-tank, her captain saw it.
"Explain yourself."
There was ambuguity there, but Jane knew that there was only one thing that he could be asking her about.
"Sir, our mission was to draft scenarios detailing possible routes to eliminating the Targaryen power over the country. All plans were written and I simply endeavoured to provide as complete a list of options as was possible."
"And added an option that no other members of your assigned unit added input into, nor did thay sign off on, and your name is the only one on its provisions indicating that this plan was not one agreed upon by the entirety of sigma squad."
Jane didn't so much as flinch in the face of her commander's rebuke. She had prepared herself for this, and was willing to stick her neck out.
"Sir, I understand our mission. I was simply trying to lay out all possible-"
"Are you compromised Jane?"
The question silenced the woman. Her eyes went wide as she watched her commander staring back at her.
"I understand Jane. Spending so much time here, having to find a way to blend in and gather intel. Some instances of compromise are understandable, even expected. I've seen your reports on Rhaella Targaryen. I understand how easy it can be to become sympathetic to people like her. That's why I'm going to ask you now. Did you propose Omicron for the benefit of the Plataea, or Rhaella?"
Jane wanted to disuade her captain. After all, she was a spartan. She was one of the best spartans. She'd fought on battlefield after battlefiend, been drenched in the blood of Covenant forces as she slaughtered the aliens who had taken her family from her. For someone like her, for a machine built for war and death, emotional compromise should be impossible.
However, this mission wasn't to take down a Covenant base, destroying Covenant resources or obliterate one of their strike forces. This was a mission against people. Moreover, people who weren't insurrectionists, weren't terrorists. These were just people. Rhaella had become... a friend, to Jane over the last two years. She was kind, compassionate, and Jane trusted her. Jane had been sent into her home, to gather her weaknesses, to possibly and probably destroy the influence of her family, and now Jane counted the woman amongst her closest friends.
"...Yes sir. I think... I think I've been compromised."
The silence was deafening. Jane just stared at the hologram of her captain, waiting for what she knew was coming. She waited for the repremand. She waited for the dismissal. She waited for the order she knew would come. She waited to be commanded to take command of the elimination of House Targaryen personally.
"Well then, Scenario Omicron is approved Spartan."
All her training couldn't have prepared her for that. Jane's eyes widened, showing off just how much she was shocked by her captain's orders.
"Sir?"
"Your plan puts a target on our back, but no more than any of the other plans. In fact, making sure that we have hostages will likely make the remaining loyalist houses more inclined to cooperate with us once the time comes."
"And the scenarios for keeping the royals in line?" She asked, wondering about which of the dozens of contingencies might have been selected out of her plan.
"Omicron-37-C will be in effect once the operation is complete." Kurt offered Jane a somewhat apoligetic smile. "Unfortunately, while it's highly distasteful, it was deemed the best way to ensure their continued loyalty and cooperation."
"Who was assigned?" Jane asked.
"No one." Kurt replied. "We had a volunteer. I couldn't ask anyone to do this if I wasn't willing to put myself on the line for the crew."
"Sir?" She breathed.
"Don't worry too much about it Spartan." Kurt chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm sure it's not the first time someone's married in order to promote an operation, and I likely won't be the last for a good while yet. Now I want the operation underway by tonight. I have Pelican-C-2774 on route now. We'll be in the air over the Red Keep by sundown."
Jane almost felt dazed as she nodded along with her commander's words.
"Yes sir."
"And Jane." The woman straightened as she heard the softness in her captain's voice. Not many had ever heard it. "Good job."
WIth that the conversation was over. Jane was briefly aware of the datapad on the table lighting up, indicating that Scenario Omicron had been approved and that resources were being allocated for its success. She waited a moment, allowing the fire to cool from her blood. For a moment, she had really been willing to fight for Rhaella, to stand up to her own commanding officer for a woman she'd know for only a few years. She had known Captain Ambrose since she was four years old. She had been trained by him, taught everything there was to know about being a spartan from him. For all intents and purposes, since the death of her family on Jericho so many years ago, he had been her father. He was the father of the Spartan III program, a parent to them all. Now he was putting his faith in her. Trusting her to know what was best even in the face of every plan that they had concocted since their operation began.
There was no way that Jane was going to let that trust be in vain.
Rhaegar Targaryen walked down into the dungeons of King's Landing, past the first and second floors into the black cells. Built by King Maegor alongside the majority of the Red Keep, the black cells were designed to break the wills of even the strongest of men. The darkness was all encompassing, with only the barest hints of light coming from the doors the led out into the hallways and when meals were brought in to keep the prisoners alive. Otherwise, whatever poor souls found themselves locked down below would find themselves bereft of light for hours, even days on end.
'The powers of the black cells seemed to be loosing their potency.' Rhaegar thought to himself as his torch shone light on the man who sat in his cell.
Rickard Stark was a man who lived in a place where coldness and darkness could engulf you in a moment. Summer snows and winter blizzards drapped his homeland in darkness the likes of which no man of the south could ever understand. Maegor might have built the black cells to break the wills of southern men, who so loved their light and heat, but it seemed that in comparison, the Northmen were far more resilient to its terrors.
"Come again to demand my fealty?" Rickard asked, a dash of humour in his words. "You'll have to try harder 'your grace'. This has been a wonderful break from the stresses of my office, but really I think you should let me return home before it seems like you are holding me against my will."
Rhaegar gritted his teeth, fed up with the distinct lack of respect that the lord and warden of the North was showing him.
"Enough of this farce Lord Stark." He said. "My father has demanded that you bend the knee. If you do, we can see about granting leniency to your sons and your lords who follow him in rebellion."
"Rebellion." Rickard laughed. "A just and noble war as far as I can see. What man would allow the rule of such madmen as your father and yourself? A king ruled by his madness, and a son ruled by bedtime stories and dusty tomes."
Rickard Stark it seemed was not especially receptive to Rhaegar and Lyanna's pleas for his understanding. When Lyanna had first told her father of the prophesies in order to win him over, the old wolf had all but spat out his disgust. The two of them had plunged the realm into war, all for prophesy? Words spoken by tricksters and lairs a thousand years ago and repeated over and over until someone fool enough believed them.
Rhaegar had tried to remind the Lord of Winterfell about the actions of his ancestors. The War of the Dawn, the bulding of the Wall, the Night's Watch set to guard the realms of men. Rickard had laughed at the dragon prince. After all, the war for the dawn had occured thousands of years before Valyria.
"When my ancestors saved the realms of men from death itself, yours were too busy fucking goats and sheep and wondering why the world got so cold."
What help would the magic of Valyria be against the magic of the North, which had forged a structure superior to any and all of Valyria's creations? Even dragons would never harm the Wall, for the North was a place where the fiery beasts would never survive for long.
"Your family's defeat is inevitable Lord Stark." Rhaegar said. "Already our armies have crushed his allies and march on your son and Lord Arryn. The full might of the Reach and Dorne shall fall on your kin and in time, so too shall the Westerlands. Bend the knee and beg my father's mercy and we can save what remains of your house when your sons is defeated."
"Horse shit." Rickard growled back. "My son and his allies are not so disperate as you say. If your words were true, you or your father would have brought me before your court of sycophants and boot-lickers to parade it in front of me. Instead, you come down here into the dark to sneer the words at me in hopes that your silver tongue can do what months of darkness could not. I will tell you now little prince. The North remembers, and your insults to my people are not something that will be forgotten for a long time yet."
Rhaegar gritted his teeth. It seemed that the Starks were all stubborn to a fault. Again, he cursed Rickard, Brandon, his father and Jon Arryn. They understood nothing of how their actions had destroyed the peace of the nation, nor the doom they brought down on themselves with every soldier lost in this pointless conflict.
"You will not call off your son?" Rhaegar asked, face morphing into a sneer.
"Call him off?" Rickard scoffed. "I've no control from this prison cell you've seen to place me in. My son fights for justice, for the honour and survival of our house. Can you say the same for your cause Prince Rhaegar?"
"I fight for more than just the survival of my house." He said. "I fight for the living, I am preparing the realm for a war that you scoff at, at least Lyanna understands the importance of our sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" Rickard roared, losing his composure. "You call your actions a sacrifice? You, who abandoned your lawful wife and heir so as to abscond with my daughter. You, who cowers feebly in this castle as armies march and men die for your folly? You, who thinks yourself Aegon or Jaehaerys or Daemon come again, when in truth you have more in common with the cruel, the unworthy, and the madman you call your father. You spit upon the true sacrifices of others by deigning to declare your stupidity as sacrifice."
"And what would you call it then, Lord Rickard. I, who was beloved by the realm, adored by so many. I saw the truth, the necessity of my actions, but I knew that there were those who would decry it. Still I did it anyway, knowing it would end my adoration. What would you call that, except sacrifice."
"A stupid man so convinced that his foolishness is necessary that he's fooled enough people into dying for it." Rickard said. "I hope your war is lost, young prince, for I pity the realm that would be built under your reign. Where men can abscond with anyone they will so long as they claim it is 'destined' or 'prophesy'. I'd happily die before I see the chaos that your actions have sewn throughout the kingdoms."
Rickard had stood and come to the bars of the cell, spitting unexpectedly on Rhaegar's face. The prince recoiled at the spit oozed down his cheek but roared in anger, drawing his sword. Still, Rickard was behind iron bars, and now far back enough that Rhaegar would have to enter the cell to attack him. The prince took a calming breath, wiping the spit from his face and reminding himself that Rickard Stark was still his good-father. If for no other reason than to spare his love Lyanna from the pain of losing her father, Rhaegar would allow the man this indignity.
"The seven kingdoms have prospered under my family like they never had before, so caught up in petty squabbles and minor glories as they were. We forged Westeros into a single realm, and now we need that realm to fight, or we will all die. If one life, one family, really worth all this death to you Lord Stark. You could end it, send the smallfolk home to their fathers and mothers, to their brothers and sisters, to their wives and children. Why do you persist in this stubborn, futile defiance."
"Those words would fit more directed at you, young prince." Rickard said. "After all, it was your father who started this war by burning my son alive and imprisoning me without cause. Even Aegon with his dragons knew better than to burn men alive without reason."
"The Targaryens united the seven kingdoms and granted mercy onto your family." Rhaegar growled. "The Gardeners, the Hoares, the Durrandons, each of them is dust now, words spoken in the wind. House Stark was wise to bend the knee, but now they rise, blade in hand to kill their sponsors who so generously let them keep their lands and their incomes. Perhaps Aegon would have burnt Torrhen Stark anyway if he could see the betrayal your family would bring mine now."
"Perhaps he would." Rickard nodded. "But we shall never know, now will we? All we shall see is who will win this war, and unlike then, you will have no dragons to fight your battles for you."
"But we will be victorious all the same." Rhaegar spoke last, turning on his heel and marching out towards the stairs.
He was finished with the wolf lord for today. Hopefully more time in the cells, and news of a victory or two that he knew would come, would change his tune and make him see. As Rhaegar left the black cells and locked to wodden door behind him, he heard the of men and armour shuffling.
"Who goes there?" He recognised Arthur's muffled voice from up the stairs. with Jonothor Darry's deeper tones joining in moments later.
Rhaegar made to ascend the stairs, faster than normal, for he heard the sounds of armour shuffling and then blades being drawn. The prince broke into a sprint, drawing again the sword that he had by his hip. Rounding the final turn, he stopped stunned.
Arthur Dayne and Jonothor Darry were laid out on the stone floor. Their shining armour was dented and bent and their white cloaks were dirtied. Over them, a single man stood clad strange coloured clothes but without a stitch of armour on his person. Looking up, Rhaegar recognised the unreasonably tall man.
"Lord Ambrose?" He breathed.
Kurt stood in a ready position, a combat knife in his hand.
"Prince Rhaegar." His voice was full of cool courtesy, not a trace of emotion to be found.
It's late, but there was a lot of shit that had to be done over the last week. Sorry I couldn't put it out last Wednesday but to make it up to you all, I'm trying to get the next chapter out by Saturday. After that, we'll be back on proper update schedules of every Wednesday.
So now we see Scenario Omicron, Jane gets some trust, we see some good interactions, and Rhaegar gets a little time after around six or so chapters without. Next time, we'll be switching rapidly between characters as the operation goes down so it might be a little long. I hope Rhaegar isn't too off here. I tried to keep him in character, or at least the character I portray him as. Again, Rhaegar isn't malicious, he's not his father. He's just so convinced he's right that to him, any other way is just insane or stupid. Everyone else therefore is stupid compared to him.
I'm really glad I got to check up on Rickard. It's only his second appearance as a character and it's nice to write him. He blames Rhaegar more than Lyanna for this whole debacle, something I agree with alongside a lot of you. But Lyanna does take some of the blame as well.
Kurt is also here, and I thought, what a way for his first fight to go. Kurt is honestly one of my favourite Spartans, possibly my all time favourite, and it's a lot of fun to write him actually doing something more than planning. Taking part in the operation is good.
Finally, some good news. With chapter 26 we passed 100,000 views. That was last week, so it's a late announcement, but still. Yay. We allso now have nearly 400 reviews, and I hope to cross that barrier with this chapter. Please leave your thoughts down below and let me know how you feel about the story.