The great council of 283 AC was shaping up to be as influential and formative as the last one, which had set in motion the reign of King Aegon V. Tents and camps had sprung up around King's Landing, but few had yet to actually enter the city.

The camps of the rebels remained a decent distance from the walls, with the Reach camp and those of the other loyalists being closer, or even inside the city walls. The small council and kingsguard had made the keep ready for the influx of guests that would make up the council.

As the sun reached its height on the fourth day since the Dornish forces had arrived, the people of King's Landing, and all the men of the armies of Westeros, were greeted by the sight of golden lions on fields of red. The army of the Westerlands had arrived. Dozens of other banners waved amongst the formation, nobles and bannermen of the Lannisters who had come to see and participate in the choosing of a new king. Amongst them, Arthur could see the striped boar of the Marbrands, the checkered field and coins of House Payne, even the three ships of a field of blue, yellow, and red belonging to House Farman. Most all of the nobility of the Westerlands was present, but Arthur Dayne had eyes for only one banner. The white eagle with arrows and lightning in its talons on a field of green indicated that the house of Terra had come. The Sword of the Morning felt the righteous vengeance surge within him as he watched the Westerlands' army move closer to the rebel camps.

Arthur had his own level of disgust for the golden lions of the Rock, but while he knew that Tywin ruled the West, it had been the spartans and their lord who had seen to it that the Targaryens, his prince amongst them, had been felled by treachery. He wondered who among the spartans had been brought to the council. He hoped that the man might have brough the spartans who had infiltrated the keep, better to gather all the traitors in one place than to hunt down this 'team wolfpack' as he had heard them be called by Varys' spies.

Turning from the balcony, he moved back into the keep, looking to inform the small council and Lord Commander Hightower that the final kingdom expected to make an appearance had arrived.

"So, the lions have finally slunk from their den." Ser Oswell sneered, hand in his sword.

"Indeed." Ser Lewyn nodded along.

The prince of Dorne seemed far more calm than his fellow knights, but Arthur knew the truth. The man had met with his own nephews Doran and Oberyn, who had made the journey despite the prince's poor health. The arguments between the three had become quite heated, and gossip had plagued the keep about exactly what had passed between the three men. The calm, composed visage that Prince Lewyn showed to his brothers in white was nothing but a façade, meant to conceal the familial rage that Arthur was sure burned in the man's heart.

Arthur only hoped that they would be able to save what ever might be left of the Targaryen dynasty, or he would have truly failed his prince. Lord Mace Tyrell had already assured them that he would put his support behind the claim of Prince Aegon, though he had made more than a few subtle and unsubtle demands. Apparently, his wife had just welcomed a new child into the world, a daughter, and the condition of a betrothal between her and Aegon was all but required for the Reach's full support.

Arthur wanted to curse the man, his demands, and his reluctance to engage the rebels after Ashford, which had likely cost them the war in the first place. Now the last true servants of the house of the dragon had to barter their future king's hand in marriage to a dull-witted gardener because Mace Tyrell somehow had the sense to understand just how important his support was.

"Well." He said, turning from the balcony in the white sword tower where his brothers and him had watched the men of the West arrive from.

"I believe that accounts for all the participants in the war, It seems we must inform our allies and the traitors that the council will commence this day."

There was a series of nods from all around as together, the remaining kingsguard of House Targaryen moved to inform the loyal houses of the realm, and those risen up in rebellion, of the beginning of the Great Council of 283 AC.

Arthur moved through the red stone halls of the Red Keep, heading towards the rooms of the Princes of Dorne. Ser Lewyn might have done this, considering he was their uncle, but he was already set to accompany Lord Commander Hightower as he delivered the news of the council's beginning to the rebel lords Stark, Baratheon, Tully, Arryn and Lannister as well as their bannerman.

Pushing open the door, Arthur found Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn sitting down, commiserating over a cyvasse board.

"Prince Doran." He announced, bowing before he prince of Dorne."

The man looked up from the board, regarding the Sword of the Morning with cool courtesy befitting of the ruler of Dorne.

"Prince Oberyn."

Unlike his brother, the man known as the red viper moved with a sharpness that almost seemed serpentine, truly giving credence to his title.

"Ser Arthur." Doran nodded.

"Arthur." Oberyn offered as well, eyes narrowing.

"I assume you have brought news." Doran continued, only briefly shifting his eyes to his brother as if to quell the fiery emotions that his younger brother was known for.

"I do Prince Doran. The Westerlands have arrived. The council will begin today."

"The lions." Oberyn growled, shooting to his feet. "Elia will be with them, a hostage along with her children."

"Calm yourself Oberyn." Doran said, waving his hand at the red viper.

"Calm?" Oberyn demanded, fire in his voice. "How can you ask that I be calm, Tywin Lannister rebelled against his rightful king, and worse yet, abducted Elia and her children. How can you ask me to be calm when she could be suffering at the hands of Tywin. You know that man has done to former rivals, and Elia's children will always be rivals for his daughter and her new, usurper husband."

"Elia is too valuable to harm." Doran tried to sooth Oberyn. "If this 'Lord Terra' and his master had meant to kill her, she would have died alongside Aerys and Rhaegar, and there would be nothing anyone could have done."

Arthur felt the insult prick at him, though he hoped that Doran had not meant to make it.

"Torturing her would be pointless and would only draw our wrath. A cruel and brutal man Tywin Lannister is, but not stupid, and not wasteful. Elia lives still, as do her children I hope, and with any luck, we will be reunited after this council ends."

"I swear, if any of those 'spartans'-" Oberyn spat on the ground. "Touches a hair on her head, or those of her children, I'll kill them all."

"Careful Oberyn." Doran warned. "These men that Lord Tywin has recruited are dangerous, as I'm sure Ser Arthur can attest. It would be best if we could resolve this crisis with as little threat of violence as possible."

The prince of Dorne levelled a piercing glare at the red viper, cowing the younger man.

"After all, I would have exiled you again without question, my dear brother, if your temper cost us the lives of our sister and her children."

Arthur shivered, reminded once again of how ruthless Prince Doran could be. Less directly threatening than his brother, but no less a danger to his enemies, a scorpion rather than a snake.

Oberyn too it seemed, understood his brother's intent, and sat down in the face of Prince Doran's judgment.

"We are standing at the precipice of a new era in Westeros." Doran said. "We must act carefully to ensure that the right candidate ascends to the Throne. Aegon is the rightful king, by all the laws of men, and we must make that the basis of our case if we are to draw enough support from the other houses to back his claim."

"No house of Dorne will go against us." Oberyn assured his brother. "And though I find it distasteful, Mace Tyrell will be our closest ally in this, with it all but promised that Aegon will marry his new-born daughter when they come of age."

"Indeed. The problem is the forces of the rebel houses. Baratheon's claim is not to be ignored, and with his betrothal to Tywin Lannister's daughter, he will have the full support of the West, to match Aegon's support from us."

"So all we can hope is that there is enough support from the minor houses of the other realms to usurp Robert's own support from his allies."

"It will likely be a close decision." Doran nodded. "But hopefully, we can use that to propose a regency rather than a replacement of the royal family."

"A regency?" Arthur spat. "You would have rebels, traitors, raising Rhaegar's son?"

"I would see Elia and her children safe, and my nephew on the Iron Throne." Doran said briskly. "If that necessitates granting these lords some power, that is a price I am willing to pay."

Doran glared at Arthur.

"Especially since a regency free of Rhaegar might just save my nephew from the madness that seemed to grip both his father and grandfather."

Arthur gritted his teeth. He had hoped that perhaps the Martell brothers' support of Aegon's claim might make them amenable to fulfilling Rhaegar's plans. It was the only way, his prince had been sure, to ensure the survival of all the realms of men when the long night returned. Only the dragon, the conqueror reborn with both his sister-wives could stop the Others when they returned to cover the land in ice and snow and darkness.

Of course, fate had decided to spit again in the face of Rhaegar's plans. Lord Stark's letter informing him of his new nephew had also brought with it the news of the birth of Princess Lyanna's child. Not the Visenya that Rhaegar had hoped and prayed for. No, a boy named Aemon after Rhaegar's favoured uncle in the Night's Watch. How would Rhaegar have felt about such a change in the prophesy, Arthur wondered? Arthur had not yet informed the Martell brothers of Princess Lyanna's child, the last thing the Sword of the Morning wanted was for them to see baby Aemon as a threat to Elia's children.

"Come Oberyn." Doran said as his brother grabbed the handles of his wheeled chair and pushed him towards the door. "It would be best that we be in the meeting hall before the others arrive. No need for us to seem sluggish with how much is at stake."

The two Dornish princes departed, leaving only Arthur, looking down at the cyvasse board that they had been playing on. Perhaps is was a matter of strategy, perhaps a message for him to find, perhaps just a coincidence, but on both Doran and Oberyn's sides of the board, the dragon piece had been removed, and the two men's spearmen had been moved to the forefront of their respective formations.

Eddard Stark marched with his forces through the streets of King's Landing. Beside him, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, Robert, and his father all rode at the heads of their own retinues. All around him, the citizens of King's Landing looked on at the column of knights and men at arms with awe no small amount of intrigue. Ned felt uncomfortable under their eyes, feeling like an entertainment at a mummer's show. That discomfort was only compounded the sheer heat that the south surrounded him with. How he wished to return North, to Winterfell and the snows that kept the lands cool even in the height of summer. It was only now turning to true spring in the south since the end of 'year of the false spring' as it was coming to be known, had returned winter to the world and it was so hot that Ned found himself soaking through his shirts, no matter how thinly he wore them.

Robert had found it hilarious on the rare occasions where he had complained. The Vale had not been near as hot as the rest of the south, though Ned had found that that was more due to the height of their mountains and how the frigid mountain air had kept Ned cool enough,

As if the heat was not enough, it seemed that the coming spring and summer had cooked all the worst parts of the capital city, because Ned had scarcely come within half a mile of the walls before he smelled the scent of baking piss, shit and half a million bodies crammed into the hulking behemoth that was King's Landing.

The sound of hooves drew his attention. Of course, most of the Rebel forces present were on horseback, with foot-soldiers with shields surrounding them to provide defense should the crowd grow aggressive or any surprise attack be launched. This sound was different, however. It was not coming from behind him. Instead, it came from both the south and west of them as they passed the Great Sept of Baelor. Gold and green banners came into view as the Reach host marched along the road.

Across from the golden rose of the Tyrells, Ned saw the golden lions of the Lannisters come down the road from the gate of the gods. At their head, Eddard recognised the man who ruled the West. Tywin Lannister cut an imposing figure, astride a fine black steed, clad in armour of red, black and gold, he was surrounded by his family, his brothers from what Ned knew and his son riding by his side. Just behind him, and in front of his various bannermen, there was a wheelhouse with an open window, through which Ned could see a head of blonde hair and a pretty face, Cersei Lannister had been brought along.

Ned had seen Cersei Lannister before, at the tourney of Harrenhall she had been crowned queen of love and beauty by Ser Tom of House Terra. There had been many an envious woman over her status and Tywin's daughter had made a great show of flaunting her new title to any and all in attendance. Ned would readily admit that she was beautiful, he would have to be a blind fool to deny it, but she had seemed when he'd first seen her, far too engrossed with herself and her crowning.

Ned hoped that Robert would be at least a good husband to Cersei Lannister, if for no other reason than to spare himself her wrath and that of her father.

Ned's eyes were drawn away from the Lannisters however, and instead focused on a banner that all expected to see at the council, perhaps more than any other. The white eagle of House Terra flapped on its standard, carried by a man Ned recognised, again from the tourney of Harrenhall as Ser Shane, a spartan. If rumours and talk were to be believed, he was also part of the group of men and women who had killed or kidnapped the Targaryen family from the red Keep.

The House of Terra was riding just behind House Lannister, beside some of the oldest allies of the lions of the Rock. The Lannisters of Lannisport, the Leffords, Marbrands and Crakehalls, houses whose loyalty and service to the Westerlands had persisted for thousands of years, rode side by side with a house whose age could not even be counted in the decades. Whether this was a source of discordance between the various houses was unknown to Ned based on the way they rode without expression. It seemed that Tywin's control over his bannermen was as strong as it ever had been. The only notable exception was that of House Farman, who it seemed had been demoted out of the Lannister's favour and now rode with the rest of Tywin's less prestigious bannermen.

Just behind House Terra's riders, of whom there were about nine aside from their lord, a great wheelhouse, looking to be made of steel rather than wood, rolled along behind them. Ned watched in astonishment as the wheelhouse, relatively small but doubtlessly heavy due to the weight of all that metal, was pulled along.

His were not the only eyes to be drawn to the large contraption. The Tyrell host and its allies stared at the wheelhouse; everyone present all but knowing who was seated inside.

For good or ill, the Targaryens had returned to King's Landing.

The ride through the rest of the city and up Aegon's high hill, where the council was to be held in the Red Keep, was a long and tense one. More than once throughout, Ned thought he saw fists tighten too greatly on the shafts of spears of the hilts of swords, prompting moments of panic and resolve as he moved to more easily draw his sword from its sheath.

No conflict erupted however, and the ride was as peaceful as one could be, flanked by enemies and in the middle of a city that Ned's own forces had the intention to besiege.

Whatever the case, the entrance to the Red Keep looked pristine. Not since the last great council that had appointed to the throne Aegon V had the palace been host to so many great lords and ladies from across the seven kingdoms. Hundreds of lord, ladies, and their forces had come to attend. Ned dismounted his horse in the courtyard, alongside almost every major and minor lord of the seven kingdoms save the Iron Islands. Eyes were drawn to the Lannister group as Cersei Lannister was escorted by her brother out of the wheelhouse she had been traveling in, looking the very picture of Westerland beauty.

Attention did not stay on her for long however, as the door to the wheelhouse of the Terra's opened with barely a sound. A set of steps closed the distance between the door and the ground. Out of the steel-coloured box, stepped two figures. First was Princess Elia, clad in an exquisite robe of orange, red and yellow, looking the picture of her house. The dress was modelled in the fashion of her family's sigil, and the back of the dress was interwoven along her backbone with what looked like a more solid piece of gold material that pierced through and held together the cloth that was weaved to look like the sun.

Ned was not a man for excessive dress or the gossip of fashions, nor was he a man who believed in excessive symbolism in such things as clothing, but even he understood what the dress said to the assembled nobles.

'A Martell. Not a Targaryen.'

Whether this had been a choice on Princess Elia's part or something forced on her by the Terras, Ned didn't know. There were reasons for both, but the second son, then lord, then heir of Winterfell put all thought of assumption out of his mind. He would hear her words soon enough, and more than that there was another person stepping out of the carriage.

Rhaella Targaryen's visage was one of almost haunting beauty. A woman of the blood of Valyrian nobility, she looked almost ageless, and her white hair did nothing to accent her age, instead only making her appear all the more timeless. He had heard rumours of her solemnity, a frigid marriage with the mad king sapping her of life over the years. If that were true, it seemed that Aerys' death had returned that life to her, for her face seemed to be that of a woman almost a decade younger than her true age, she looked more of age to be her good-daughter's sister, rather than her mother by marriage. Then again, Rhaella Targaryen was only truly a decade or so older than Elia.

Her dress however, showed none of her Targaryen allegiance. Instead of red and black, she wore the forest green, gold and white of her captors. Her dress was an exquisite gown, if Elia Martell's dress had been a thing to admire, Rhaella's was a manipulation of cloth to be worshiped. The dress fell to her feel, hiding them beneath the layers of silk. The bodice hugged her tightly, as she descended the steps, she was aided by the hand of Lord Kurt Ambrose himself, who weaved the two's arms together and walked as if they were lord and lady of all the world.

"Your Grace." Mace Tyrell called, trotting forwards on his horse before dismounting and standing before the once queen.

"You live."

Rhaella offered the lord of Highgarden a small, grateful smile, though Ned thought that it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I do, Lord Tyrell, and am glad, truly, to return to my family's lands."

There was a tensing amongst the people, both loyalists and rebels. They waited on the queen to call for attack, perhaps to use this instance to try and regain her freedom.

"I'm sure this council will be enlightening to all of us, and that the next king, whomever they may be, is just and rules well."

With that, Lord Terra began to move, escorting Rhaella past the assembled forces of the Reach without her saying a single word. In fact, the former queen did not make eye contact with anyone, as far as the quiet wolf could tell. Tywin Lannister led the forces of the West, followed by his children and immediate family. Lord Terra followed after him with Queen Rhaella, while Princess Elia Martell and a man Ned didn't recognise right away walked behind the lord and queen.

Being left behind by the Westerlands and their men, the remaining forces from the other kingdoms seemed to collectively come out of a stupor that had blanketed them all at the sight of the queen and princess. His father Rickard seemed the first to regain himself, dismounting his horse and barking orders to the rest of the Northern men. Ned himself dismounted after his father almost on instinct, stepping around the pull open the doors to the North's own wheelhouse. Inside, Lyanna sat with her new-born son in her arms, looking out at the city with the same broken look she'd had for weeks, since she'd been returned to them pregnant and mourning her supposed husband.

Ned stepped inside carefully, trying not to distress his sister.

"Lyanna." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Lyanna did not pull away, or hiss in anger and fear as she had once done whenever someone touched her even a week ago. Instead, the fire that had once burned in the she-wolf seemed to have gone out, snuffed with the life of Rhaegar. Ned led his sister alongside him, taking her babe from her arms and placing his nephew into the arms of one of the caretakers who had been assigned to aid Lyanna in caring for young Aemon.

Escorting and leading her along, Ned walked with the rest of the Northern forces into the halls of the Red Keep. The first day of the council was to be today, and the rebels intended to get as much done in their favour as they could. Bringing Lyanna with them, while not something Ned found tasteful, would help in ensuring that events move smoother and more quickly. With his sister here, and her son presented to the assembled lords, his nephew's claim could be quickly and easily abdicated.

It took the better part of two full hours to get the assembled nobles gathered together in a way that was not an unfixable mess, and Ned appreciated the effort that the castle servants had obviously gone to in order to ensure an orderly procession, but the combined nobility of the continent of Westeros was assemble for the fourth time in its history to decide who would sit the Iron Throne.

So fun. We're finally here. The Great Council. We'll be seeing some major events in the next few chapters to I hope y'all. Also, We're coming up on 1000 reviews and 300k views. I'd love to hit both milestones before we post chapter 41, so really go all out in the review section this chapter and the next. Hopefully with all your help that can happen.