"Orys? Come in," the king said when Orys knocked on the door. "I've been expecting you."
Orys hesitated. He wasn't sure what his father wanted, and the uncertainty made him uneasy. He'd never been summoned to the king's solar before.
Still, it wouldn't do to keep the king waiting.
Always be on your best behaviour, his mother had reminded him countless times. In the Red Keep, it had always been just the two of them. How could it have been any other way, with Lyanna's brother waging war on the Iron Throne, unwilling to accept Rhaegar as his king?
It was an awkward position. Orys never quite knew who he was meant to be. Was he a hostage to his uncle in the North? A prince of the Iron Throne? Or a bastard, born of sin?
Orys' father barely spoke with him, nor did he seem to have any affection for his mother. But the king had insisted Orys share his education with Aegon, from lessons with the grand maester to training in the field. Orys and Aegon were friends— how could they not be, having shared lessons since they were children?— but Orys never called Aegon "brother," nor did Aegon refer to him as such.
Some lines should never be crossed, and both young men knew it.
But now, with Aegon out fighting in the Vale, commanding his first battle, Orys couldn't help but wonder what his father wanted with him.
"Come on, go in. The king's waiting for you," urged Ser Jaime, one of the Kingsguard standing outside the solar. Noticing Orys' hesitation, Jaime chuckled. "Don't worry. His Grace has great plans for you."
Great plans, Orys thought blankly, but what could they be?
The idea only made him more nervous, yet he opened the door and stepped inside.
Rhaegar sat behind his desk, his attention absorbed in a stack of maps, letters, and ancient texts. Without looking up, he gestured to a chair. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Orys sat across from his father, glancing at his face with uncertainty. Rhaegar moved a pile of parchments to the side, revealing a map of Westeros. "Your brother is in the Vale, fighting the Arryns," Rhaegar began. "I have high hopes he'll succeed."
Orys wasn't sure how to respond. From everything he had heard, the war was in a statement, the Arryns on the defensive but far from yielding. Without dragons, it was nearly impossible to invade the Vale. "I hope so too, Your Grace," Orys said, keeping his tone neutral.
"It's only a matter of time," Rhaegar said, waving a hand dismissively. "But there's another kingdom that needs to be reconquered. The North. Your mother's homeland."
Orys stiffened. Was this the moment he was meant to show loyalty? To denounce his mother's family? She often spoke fondly of Benjen Stark, telling Orys how much she wished he could meet his uncle. But Lyanna had always been practical—she would want him to keep his head.
"The North will fall after the Vale, Your Grace," Orys replied carefully. "The Starks can't stand against the Seven Kingdoms without allies."
"They must come back to the fold," Rhaegar said, slamming his fist onto the map, right on Winterfell. "Aegon will rule all of Westeros. It's his destiny. And you, Orys, will be his right hand… just like the first Aegon and Orys."
For the first time since Orys entered, Rhaegar looked him in the eyes. "I want you to prove yourself worthy of that role. I want you to conquer the North for your brother."
"You want me to lead an army against the North?" Orys asked, unable to meet his father's violet gaze. We're nothing alike, Orys thought bitterly. Unlike his trueborn siblings, he didn't look Valyrian at all—his grey eyes and dark hair were clear signs of his Stark heritage.
But that was how Lyanna liked him— all wolf, no dragon. Though Orys often wished he looked more like Aegon, he valued his mother's approval more.
Yet now, his father wanted him to fight against the Starks…
"You'll do more than command," Rhaegar continued. "Benjen Stark always demands I return his sister and nephew. I've decided to allow him to meet you... if he agrees to a parley in the Riverlands." Rhaegar smiled, a touch of secrecy in his expression. "You'll meet with him and convince him to yield, by any means necessary. When you succeed, I'll reward you with the North. It's your birthright."
Orys forced a smile, his mind raced. He would rule a kingdom. His father wanted him to take the North, to replace the Starks. By any means necessary— did that mean treachery? Betraying Benjen Stark, taking advantage of his affection to strike when he least expected it?
What would Lyanna think of that?
But Orys had never met Benjen Stark. And more than anything, he wanted a kingdom of his own. To rule. To stand beside Aegon, respected— not just as the bastard of the Red Keep, but as a man of power. He had dreamed of this since he was a child.
He couldn't refuse his father's offer.
"You'll take a new house," Rhaegar continued, oblivious to Orys' inner turmoil, "one that will be loyal to Aegon for generations. I'll give you time to inform your mother, then you'll depart. Ser Arthur will accompany you and advise you. Understand?"
Orys swallowed, "Yes, Your Grace."
"Good. You're dismissed."
Orys stood to leave, but as he opened the door, Rhaegar's voice stopped him. "And Orys… you can call me father, you know?"
Orys froze, unsure of how to respond. "Yes, Your Grace."
He didn't realise his mistake until Rhaegar laughed, amused. "It's fine. Just remember you're always my son. The brother of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya, no matter what lesser men may say."
"I know, Your Grace— father," Orys corrected hastily.
Rhaegar nodded, returning to his papers.
Could Orys ever truly be as valuable in Rhaegar's eyes as Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya, though?
Somehow, Orys doubted it. His father didn't spare him another glance as he left the room.
—
"Mother," Orys murmured, staring down at his toes, "I have to obey the king's orders. But I won't harm Uncle Benjen or my cousins. I promise you."
Lyanna Stark remained silent for a moment, and for an instant, Orys feared she might strike him. But then, she gently cupped his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
"Orys," she said softly, offering a reassuring smile, "I'm not angry. This is a good thing."
"This... is?" Orys echoed, his voice full of disbelief.
"You finally have the chance to leave the Red Keep," she said, her voice growing warmer. "To meet your uncle. This may be the only chance we'll ever have."
Lyanna's eyes flickered quickly around the room, scanning the door, the window, and every corner. Satisfied, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What I'm about to tell you, you cannot tell anyone."
"Mother?" Orys asked, confused by the intensity in her expression. Her usual sorrow had been replaced by something far more urgent, something fiercer. It both excited and terrified him. What secret did she hold?
"You know how…" Lyanna hesitated, her voice trembling slightly, "How you were born."
Orys winced. The tale was no secret in court, but the thought of speaking it aloud to his mother felt unbearable. "They said you… ran away with Father, even though you were betrothed to Robert Baratheon, and he was married to Elia of Dorne…"
He hesitated, unsure whether to continue. But Lyanna's firm, encouraging gaze urged him on. "Go on," she said. "You know the rest."
"The Starks, believing Rhaegar had kidnapped you, demanded your return and his head," Orys continued, his throat tight. "King Aerys killed Rickard and Brandon Stark, and then the North, the Vale, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands rose in rebellion. After they were defeated, Father brought you back to court… with me."
The words felt like they were caught in his throat. He could hardly finish the story. Rhaegar named his bastard son Orys and returned to his wife without looking back to Lyanna, ascending to the throne quickly, continuing the struggle against the North and the Vale until today… Did his mother not know all of this? Why did she want him to say it?
"You're right," Lyanna said, nodding. "The Kingsguard only brought us to King's Landing after the Targaryens won the war. Rhaegar may have saved me from being burned alive by his father, but I'll never thank him. It was the only decent thing he ever did. Still…" She paused, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "It's ironic, isn't it? He named you Orys, after the founder of your house."
"The founder of…" Orys repeated, struggling to grasp the words. "My house…"
His eyes widened. "House Baratheon?!"
Lyanna nodded, her smirk widening.
"Rhaegar thought himself so clever. An Orys for his trios of conquerors. But you're never a dragonseed, my son. You're Orys Baratheon." Her gaze fixed on him, unwavering. "The only legitimate son of Robert Baratheon, my husband."
The words sank in slowly, and Orys's world tilted. It couldn't be true, could it? But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Lyanna had always despised Rhaegar, but he had believed it was because he abandoned her. What if, instead, the Starks had been right? What if she had truly been kidnapped?
What if she had loved Robert, and he had fathered him before Rhaegar took her?
I look nothing like Rhaegar, Orys thought, remembering his own reflection, nothing like a Targaryen.
His palms grew clammy.
"Robert…" Lyanna murmured, lost in thought. "He was a true hero, in every way. I remember when Ned first introduced us at Harrenhal... We got along so well. One night, we were both drunk, and we couldn't wait. We found a septon, said our vows, and… we had you."
"Then… Rhaegar…"
"He didn't know I was pregnant when he took me," Lyanna said, a bitter laugh escaping her. "He never suspected a thing—not when he forced himself on me, not when you were born, not ever."
She laughed again, a wild, liberating sound that shook her whole body, a smile stretched across her face.
The secret was out now.
"I'm not his son. I'm not…" The realisation that Rhaegar wasn't his father didn't sting as much as Orys had expected, but the truth that followed cut deeper. "I'm not Aegon's brother."
He had once imagined standing beside Aegon, sharing a bond of blood, of family. But now, he understood. They were never truly family. Instead, they were enemies.
How could they not be? Rhaegar had killed his real father.
"What should I do, Mother?" Orys pleaded, his voice cracking. "Even if you tell me I'm Robert Baratheon's son, I can't—"
"Son, it's not Elia and her children's fault that your real father was killed." Lyanna shook her head, her expression softening. "I used to resent them, but after Elia died giving birth to Visenya, I realised she was also a victim of Rhaegar. They all were. You don't need to harm Aegon, Rhaenys, or Visenya. Your enemy is Rhaegar."
Orys closed his eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on him. Ever since Rhaegar had ordered him to parley with the North, everything had changed. Lyanna had kept this secret until now, because she knew this was Orys's only chance to—
—To escape.
"You want me to go to the North," Orys whispered, his gaze locking with his mother's, "Uncle Benjen will take me in… but then, you…"
"Don't worry about me," Lyanna said, her smile reassuring. "Orys… you must go. Tell Benjen the truth. He'll convince the others. The North, the Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands… they still remember your father. They'll rise against Rhaegar again."
"It's one thing for me to defect to the North, but if I proclaim myself the son of Robert Baratheon, Rhaegar will kill you!" Orys exclaimed, fear and anger rising in his chest.
Lyanna's smirk returned. "Varys will help me escape before that happens."
"The Spider?" Orys hadn't expected this name. The master of whisperers had no known Baratheon sympathies… but then, he would hardly be kept in the small council if it was known. Still, what reason did he have to help Lyanna?
"He has his own reasons," Lyanna said cryptically. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he's willing to help me escape."
She gripped Orys's shoulders, her eyes burning with intensity. "You must avenge your father. Your uncles. Your grandfather."
Robert. Stannis. Renly. Brandon. Eddard. Rickard.
Baratheons and Starks—two houses wronged by the Targaryens. By Rhaegar.
Orys would avenge them.
All those men he had never known.
But no. Orys thought, looking into his mother's eyes. There was one more person he needed to avenge.
The woman who had been kidnapped from her family, violated, forced to watch her kin slaughtered, and made to lie to protect her son.
Lyanna Stark.
"I'll find Uncle Benjen, and together, we'll bring down Rhaegar," Orys swore. "But I want you to be there when I do it."
Lyanna smiled, relieved, and drew him into an embrace.
"Be safe, Orys. I'll see you soon."
—
You?
What do you want now, when you have decided to execute me tomorrow?
…You want to know why I did it.
Ha, that's funny. After everything, you still have no idea? You are delusional.
My father, burned alive by yours.
Bran, strangled to death trying to save Father.
Ned, died in battle after you killed his best friend.
My father. My brothers. What you have done to me and my son. All these years… ever since your kingsguards brought me to King's Landing… I have been planning to take revenge.
At first, I thought of Elia and your children. You returned to her in the end, so they must be what you truly care about, right?
But slowly… I learned that I was wrong.
I watched you in the court. You stayed close to Elia, treating her like you treated me… calm and attentive… but she was always sad, unhappy with you. At first, I thought she was mad about you bringing me to court. But no…
You forced her to have another child when you knew that she would die from it.
The same child that you wanted me to give birth to, but failed.
Isn't that right, Rhaegar?
I still remember you told me our child would be a girl, with the same certainty one would talk about the sun rising in the east. But when he turned out to be a son, you immediately changed your mind. Your Visenya would be trueborn, while my Orys was only a bastard.
That's why you returned to Elia… you never cared about me, or her. All you care about is the womb that produces your conquering trio.
Aegon. Rhaenys. Visenya.
You didn't even care that she died. You're just happy that you finally completed the set. You even have an extra— future Hand of the King, isn't it? Orys told me all about it.
I would never let you succeed.
…A prophecy?
Don't make me laugh! Only an egomaniac fool like you would believe yourself to be written in a prophecy. There's no great fate prepared for you, Rhaegar. The future you envisioned— I have vowed to destroy it.
You won't be the father of heroes, king and queens returning House Targaryen to glory. You'll only be remembered as a failure, creating multiple civil wars in your lifetime and ultimately bringing destruction to your house.
Orys will defeat you, not as a Snow, but as a Baratheon. I believe in him.
…The timing doesn't match? Of course.
We spent over a year in that tower before you left. As much as I want otherwise, there was no one else but you who could be Orys' father.
It's a lie, but one with power. Your truth has no value to the rest of the world. Announce it to the whole Westeros for all I care. Who is going to believe you? You'll only make yourself look worse.
No matter what you do, you aren't getting your son back.
…Why Robert?
Yes, I complained about him when I was young and foolish. After I met you and saw the horrors in the world… It all seems insignificant now.
For all of his faults, he genuinely loved my brother. He tried to save me. I used to think that if I married him, I would be trapped in Storm's End while he fathered bastards outside… but how did I end up?
Trapped in a tower, giving birth to a bastard. For a man that never loved me.
I wish Robert was Orys' father. He would be happy to see Orys! He would have loved a boy who looked like Ned… he would train with him, ride with him, hunt with him…
You never did any of that, did you?
To Orys, he never had a father. It's all just me. The bastard of the Red Keep and his whore mother. So don't believe for a second that you have any right to cry about losing a son— you never had him.
Killing me won't change a thing. He'll only hate you more.
He'll be devastated when he learns that I'm dead. But he'll overcome it. My boy is strong, and he'll be with his real family.
…What? You think Orys abandoned me?
He never would have left me here if I didn't tell him I would be able to escape.
It's all just lies anyway, what difference does one more make?
END