court of lies | robert's rebellion

the below of the surface

"maybe it is not about happy endings, maybe it is just about the story"

282 AC, Starfall

Four moons ago...

"I know it sounds like madness.", Rhaegar said with a pensive tone as he played with the small star-shaped glass rested in his study. "But I believe you and I understand each other, Lord Dayne."

"No, not at all.", Andric rubbed his face.

It was middle of the night and he was woke up by his brother's hand on his shoulders. Half an hour later, they were sitting at his office, him trying to convince himself that this was all a dream, drowning himself in wine, Rhaegar talking about prophecies he couldn't grasp, rest of his companions were waiting outside.

"I know what you think.", Rhaegar turned to him. "You think that I have lost my mind and so does them,", he pointed out the door, meaning his companions. "the Targaryen madness hit, my coin fell to the wrong side and all that.", he shook his head. "I never bought much into that saying for I never thpught it to be true but I am more than aware how cautious it makes the mortal man about us.", he sighed. "For centuries, as long as we had dragons, it was thought Targaryens were closer to the Gods than men but it is also not true, no? We are mere humans at the end of the day. We sleep, we breathe, we eat, we bleed when you cut us down. Not much God material here, I fear. But I will not deny we were blessed to tirffle with powers no man can truly understand. I,", he pressed. "am blessed for that."

"You want to bring back the dragons, I understood that much.", Andric deadpanned. "Weapons to annihiliate thousands when they do something you do not like. Can you truly say Westeros was a worse place without tools for mass desctrustion?"

"You see, you are wrong.", Rhaegar was not behaving like his usual composed self, Andric didn't want to say 'mad' but he didn't know which word fit better here. "Dragons were never meant to be weapons.", he shook his head. "They were the creatures of the magic, the balance between what is good and what is evil."

"And what is good and what is evil, Rhaegar?", Andric asked with a genuine interest, trying to see how far he was gone. "If you claim you are evil, you will not take a foot away from my castle and if you claim your are good...", he raised his eyebrows. "Well, good doesn't do what you do."

"And what I do?"

"Bringing back tools,", Rhaegar closed his eyes to the second use of such an insulting word. "to ruin everything just because of selfih reasons."

"Magic is true and magic exist in our world, Lord Dayne.", Rhaegar made an sudden move and sat to his chair, Andric didn't even flinch. "You are a smart man, you do know that. It is more than a faint wish or a fever dream, magic is real and it is here. What will tore the world apart is having inbalance between the forces of them."

"Between good and evil?", he mocked. "Then I fear they were a little late toring ap-"

"Between the forces of the dead and the living.", Rhaegar deadpanned. "You know what I am talking about.", Rhaegar seemed taken aback by the sudden look on Andric's face, and muttered with surprise. "You have heard-"

"Of course I heard the legends and the myths about the Long Night all those saviours each one of them claims. But they are what they are, Rhaegar, legends and myths. No matter how much we want them to be true, they are not."

"I don't want them to be true.", he shook his head. "I wish it wouldn't be true but it is. There is a war coming, dead will stole from the living and if we want to have a chance to survive, at least a chance to fight back, we must balance the forces, bring back the magic to the living to its full power. Returning of the dragons will not just give leverage to my house, Lord Dayne, I know better than giving a dragon to the likes of my father. We need dragons to stregntehn our magic. So we can have a chance."

Andric leaned forward. "There is a darkness in you."

"There is darkness everywhere when the sun goes down.", Rhaegar snapped without blinking, never been more seirous. "If you do not want to long for even the light of a candle,", he closed his finger on the small flame of the nearest one. "I suggest you to take me seriously now."

"What if you are wrong?"

"The real question is what if I am right?"

*

282 AC, Starfall

Today

"You are sure you know nothing about it Andric?", Doran asked, playing with the star-shaped glass statue in his study, Andric blinked with the memories. "Nothing?", he pressed.

"Nothing.", he lied easily. "You think I was that close with the prince that he told me his mastermind plan when even his own friends are in the dark?"

"No, I don't expect that to happen.", he turned to him. "I was asking about your brother.", he pointed out. "Arthur."

"You dare to ask me about Arthur?", he asked with a dark tone. "After everything you and your family has done, you dare to stand in my hall and ask me about him?"

"Come now Andric, it is not time for opening such dusty matters."

"What you see as a 'dusty matter' is your psocphatic parents ruining my innocent brother's lives for their own pleasure. It is you forcing him to kill a boy he saw as a friend because you didn't had the guts to do so. You do not get to lecture me about dusty matters, you do not get to question me about my brother.", he stood up. "You are unfortunately still my prince so you are welcome here but do no expect anything else."

"Elia is your princess.", Doran didn't seem fazed by his words, Doran rarely seemed like he was fazed by anything. "Don't you care about her honour? Her life?"

"Elia is smart enough to survive this."

"Survivals not about smartness, as you know well.", he tilted his head. "Or it would be your father who is alive and mine who is rotten beneath the sea.", Andric gritted his teeth. "I came this far only to see the look on your eyes as you lie Andric and you did not surprise me one bit. I enver thought you would get blind enough-"

"I have been serving to your family with loyalty for decades even though none of you but Elia deserves it.", he hissed. "I will not abandon her now, you do not need to worry. If it comes to war,", it was going to come to war. "I will be there to protect her. It has nothing to do with you -nor with your useless father, nor your outcast brother."

"I don't need your protection, I only need you to answer if you are protecting that man and his companions?", Andric huffed. "Andric!", Doran raised his voice much to his surprise. "I have received letter from Sunspear, from Mellario,", he pulled the letter out. "Arryn has declared war with Baratheon and Stark. They are coming for them all. I need Rhaegar alive and well and at the head of the army or we will all lose. There is no time for preventing anything. We just need someone to inspire people to fight and it is no one else but him. Tell me where he is."

"I cannot tell you something I do not know, right?", he shook his head. "Go home Doran.", he adviced. "If there truly is a war coming, you will need bannermen to control and armies to lead -I have no idea how you will do both but whatever answer you are looking for, you will not find it in here, not in Starfall."

"You are betraying Dorne for a Targaryen?", he asked with pure shock.

"I am no betraying anyone. I am telling you I do not have the answer you want. The last I had seen them was at Harrenhal. Ever since, I was ealing with my sister.", he spat. "My sister who just lost a baby, my sister who is sick and is grieving.", this seemed like getting Doran back to his senses. "My sister who needs me and you do here what exactly? Preventing me to help her. Accusing me with hiding my brother. What is the next step? You'll say I help the rebels because Ashara lost a baby with one of them?", Doran's face was blank as usual. "I did not go to the capital because there was a family emergency, there still is a family emergency and I have no time for this talk, my prince.", he perssed. "Go back to Sunspear.", he adviced once more. "Starfall is not welcome to outsiders, not when my sister is in this condition."

"I just hope you will come back to your senses before it is too late.", he said with an almost sad tone.

"Oh, I am right on my senses, have no worries.", he cut it off. "It shall be Oberyn's you need to worry because sooner or later, he'll learn what has happened and the last thing we need him to ruin everything even further."

"Do not worry.", he turned his head away. "I already covered that."

*

282 AC, King's Landing

"In addition of the castles; the Eyrie, Sweetsister, Heart's Home, Paps, Gulltown, Old Anchor, Redfort, Runsetone, Ironoaks, Parchments, Rain House, Greenstone and the Storm's End, after the lost battle in Summerhall, castles Fawnton, Felwood and Grandview fell into the hands of the rebels. Lord Fell and Lord Grandison are both dead and the remains of Summerhall is being sacked.", Jon reported with a grave tone, today no one was attacking one another.

"Do we have any holding in those regions?", Aerys asked with his whispery tone, his condition becoming worse.

"We have no holdings at the Vale, your grace.", all who loyal to us were killed. "And in Stormlands, we, of course, have Griffin's Roost, Mistwood and Evenfall Hall. Harvest Hall, House Selmy, also declared for us but they are yet to gather tropps. If things would go well, we would have Fawnton, Felwood and Grandview as well but our attemps of catching Robert did not work as we hoped so."

Jon was working for this plan for weeks, ever since he got the racen declaring war. Stormlands was his turf, he knew it far better than Robert. He rallied the right lords, picked up the best place. Summerhall was not only important to the Targaryens and had a symbolic meaning but it was also tied to Boneway. Anything went wrong, he could simply ask for the Dornish aid. He picked up three houses, all significant, all had enough troops to march to Storm's End in the perfect timeline to capture Robert before he even understood what has happened.

Somehow he took the wind of it, arrived there even before going to Storm's End and raising his banners. Defeated all three in their own time. All three lords arrived in separate times and Robert was there to welcome them all.

Jon's eye twitched for hours when he first received the news because he made the perfect plan, there was no way for Robert to figure out what was happening when he was more than out of touch with his region.

Unless...

"At least it is a good thing his own bannermen do not raise for him.", Ser Gerold tried at least, now that Lucerys' health only decreased and Corlys became a prominent member of the council. "His supporters includes people he forced and his uncles and no one else."

"Robert is trapped there.", Jon said with a blank face. "He cannot remain at one castle forever because it shares a border with both the Reach and Dorne. Staying there any longer means loss for him. Given all his strongholds are scattered around, his army is scattered around and he is on the run. All we have to do is to locate him and make one shot.", he rubbed his chin. "I will contact with Lord Tyrell once more."

"Good luck with that.", Corlys snorted. "He is of no use, trust me."

"Lord Baratheon won not only the castles of thosue houses but also their lords as well.", Varys commented dryly. "After some time in captivity, I heard, they have reconsidered their loyalty against the crown. And after such victories, the bannermen you promised that will turn against him will only remain impartial. Just because he has less support does not mean we have more. They have more strongolds than us, scattered or not."

Damn that he was right.

"I will tie the Marchers to our cause.", he blurted out, no one believed to him. "And I will convince Lord Tyrell and the Reacher Lords. Robert will not leave Stormlands."

"You said this even before he went there in the first place.", Aerys whispered once more. "It seems you do not know what you are doing."

"Frankly your majesty, it was a brilliant plan. It should have worked, there was no way Robert could guess that.", Jon didn't want to argue but the only reason he was alive after such a defeat was his newly announced betrothal. "He will move to Reach, he has no other choice.", he stated. "He will try to unite his army there or force their hands to do so, either way it is Mace Tyrell's border on the line. He will have to do something."

"With this victory Lord Baratheon proved the entire realm that he was not a boy but knew what he was doing, he showed everyone that being a legendary commander lies in his destiny. How can you plan to undo this, my lord?", Pycelle asked.

"Three victories do not make anyone a conqueror.", he stated calmly but seething on the inside.

"It is better than three defeats.", it was, much to his surprise, Ser Gerold who said so with a cold face.

"What of Braavos?", Varys asked, happy that he got support.

"What of Braavos?", Jon raised his eyebrows. "How many times must I say they are no threat? Helion is in charge, there is no way Ferrego taking it which means Stepstones is safe, which means Braavos is not a threat."

"But-"

"What if we focus on the real threat we have instead of dealing with what ifs?"

"I do not see what else can we say on the matter of defeats instead that it must be nice to have luck on your side.", Lord Chelsted openly mocked him.

"Luck is not how you win wars, Lord Chelsted but it is normal of you not knowing it, given not even once you set foot on a battlefield.", Jon spat. "He knew the plan. He knew where to go and when to go, he knew what to expect. We should-"

"Surely you will not declare he knew, my lord.", Lord Staunton seemed cynical. "Just accept the failure. Perhaps your plan simply was not good enough. There is no way he could know about any of the things you claim."

"Perhaps we must find some dirt on him and lessen the victories he earned, throw shade to his reputation, slander his name just like he does so to Prince Rhaegar?", after Staunton, Jon opened his mouth to stay something but Varys stopped him.

"No.", his voice was sharp and clear. "This is not how you win wars. It does so on battlefields."

"But we lose on battlefields my lord.", Pycelle said silently. "Give a try to-"

"No.", he gritted his teeth. "We will not lower ourselves to their level."

"My lord you are aware that this is a campaign of revenge based on lies to justify their means?", Varys mocked a worried frown.

"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.", Jon deadpanned. "Of course I am more than aware what is this."

"Yes, thanks to Princess Elia, our realm fractured into factions but-"

"It was not her fault.", he said coldly and it seemed to stop the council, now all were looking at him with disbelief but not even once he seemed regert his words.

"If no one else has a thing to say,", Aerys, with heavy breaths stood up. "this council has come to an end.", his eyes were focused on Jon's and he did not averted him.

*

282 AC, Highgarden

"I can feel you watching me.", Mace muttered pensively as he was writing something on the table he leaned over. "You are not being discreet, honey."

"What can I say, I love watching you. It is ...inspiring.", Alerie, despite the reason she was there, smiled genuinely. After Mace huffed in a way that as ked 'really', she entered the room properly. "It inspired me to have three children with you.", she shrugged. "Fourth on the way now.", she rubbed her belly. "So save your huffs to someone else."

"You are making it hard for me to write.", she could feel him smiling even though she did not see her face. "This is urgent. Why don't I come to your side later on?", he turned to her briefly, smile widened for a moment with her image but then his frown took its place back on his face again. "I will have to speak to the council today. I must be firm and agreeable, I must be brilliant."

"I am more than sure you will be.", she approached to him, hands found his shoulders, he was overly tense. She tried to massage it away but Mace pulled himself back.

"Your father will be there.", he pointed out. "And Mathis Rowan, and Randyll, Lord Fossoway, all of them.", he put down the papers with a silent scream. "I cannot make a fool of myself, Alerie. Not when there is a war coming on our doors."

"Perhaps you need a bit of distraction?", she offered, tried to touch him but he refused it once more.

"I do not have time for distractions.", he said with defeat. "You do not understand.", he shook his head. "They do not take me seriously -none of them.", with papers in his hands, he pointed out the door but she understood what he meant. "This is my only chance to prove them I am not some joke, and it is not my mother who runs this region, it is I.", he shook his head. "I should have do as we speak and never gone to Harrenhal. I made a mistake and she took back the control."

"Your mother certainly is a character.", she said with distaste. "Her and I will not be friends in this lifetime but still, allow me to deal with her. Do not concern about her grip. Your father let her run things as she wanted, it is normal for her to having a hard time adjusting to the new changes."

"I have been the lord of this castle and region for six years now.", Mace deadpanned and then threw the papers away in defeat. "Even my own mother doesn't take me seriously, even she doesn't trust me. I am a fool for expecting my lords to do that."

"Mace-"

"You heard what they call me out there?", he asked with sadness. "Lord Oaf, as if I am some sort of a joke. Some coward who hides behind the skirts of his mother, a weakling who lets his good father bully him.", he raised his voice. "It is useless.", he threw himself to his chair, covered his face. "How can I prove them wrong when it precisely is the truth? What use of am I? What have I ever achieved?", Alerie knew she should let him speak, so she did not interfered, gave him the time he needed. "My father was a great man.", he whispered, tears in his eyes that he tried to sent back, a pained smile on his face, fingers drumming on his desk. "He was loved and respected, I had admired him, all my life, I wanted to be him. Despite my mother, he was good, he knew what he was doing. I just never thought one day I will have to live without him."

"Lord Luthor was indeed a great man and even a better lord and father.", Alerie sat on the desk with her feet still on the floor, caught Mace's hand and held it delicately.

"He would know what to do.", Mace confessed, turned his head away. "By now, he would already decide on either wage war or not, either support the crown or the rebels. He would have summon the lords here, they would not come and demand and audience as they did now. He would not write pages of the same speech, he would not have trouble memorizing his own words, he would not stumble on his own feet, he would not make a fool of himself in front of people. He would choose his target, make a plan before everyone else and just tell them what to do and his plans would always work. I am not my father. I am a disgrace."

"Yes, your father was all that.", Alerie smiled, squeezed his hand. "He was a brave man who acted right at that moment and thought later. He led men during the War of the Nine Penny Kings, his quick judgement brought him valour on battlefield.", her smile died. "But he also died, falling from a cliff because he was too busy following a hawk that he forgot to look where he was going.", Mace turned to her in shock. "So forgive me now for not emphatizing with you as you drown yourself in sorrow because you are not like your father and think before act. Frankly my love, you should not be like him. That man was all the good things but it still didn't save him from a fool's end."

"Alerie-", with anger rising in him, he hissed her name -an act he was going to regret later but Alerie did not allow him to speak.

"You are not a failure, you are not a coward, you are not a joke. You are a father, Mace.", she declared. "And a lord who deeply cares for his people. Just because it takes time for you to decide whether wage war or not,", she raised her voice to imply he was being ridiculous about that. "does not mean your mother was right on everything she put in your head just to strengthen her rule. She is not a good mother.", she shook her head. "She is not a good grandmother.", Mace frowned. "And she most certainly is not a good ruler nor a subject. She is just a bitter old woman who vicariously tries to live through you. And I am sick of seeing how a forgettable moment for her continues to harm you even decades later.", her face softened and she kneeled in front of Mace. "I don't think you are a coward.", she whispered, forced Mace to lock his eyes with her. "Isn't this worth something?"

"Of course it does.", he relented. "But you are saying this only because you are my wife."

"Out there,", Alerie breathed in order not to cry, this moment was not about her. "people think I am hysterics.", Mace tried to refuse but Alerie stopped him with a knowing smile. "Some even say I am mad, too emotional, too weak. You tell me every single time that they do not know what they are talking about and I am stronger than anyone knows. Were there mere words of comfort that you didn't mean and said only because you are my husband or did you mean the truth?"

"Of course I meant the truth.", Mace leaned forward, they were holding both hands. "Just because your sad days are sadder than us all doesn't mean you are weak. Just because you feel more than us all, just because your emotions are more powerful than us all does not mean you are fragile. In a world that we live in, yours are a gift.", and he meant every word. "Being capable of feeling things at such a great length is a gift, caring this much is a gift."

"You know what else is a gift?", Alerie tilted her head. "Caring about your people so much that you withhold the decision of going to war, despite your bannermen coming to your house and demanding an answer, just because you do not want them to get hurt.", Mace bowed her head and sighed, of course she knew the real reason. "I know you are not a coward, Mace. I think amongst them all, including those who had seen war before, including my father, you are being the most rational one. Waging war and dying is easy, ruling and living is harder."

"They will not understand that.", he said with a hoarse tone and cleared his throat. "They already have a plan."

"Because they have only little understanding. Because they do not understand other colours than black and white can exist and coexist. They see something and categorize as either friend or enemy. But you are their lord. You should affect them not vice versa."

"I think we shouldn't wage war.", Mace whispered, bowing his upper body, resting his head on their combined hands. "It is pointless. I don't want my people to die for something that does not concern us. I don't care about Lyanna Stark, I don't think Prince Rhaegar abducted her, I don't trust the innocence of Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon, I don't take Eddard Stark seriously. If someone would come to my castle and demand Willas' head,", Alerie took a sharp breath. "I would do the same.", he would kill them, not burn them alive. "I don't want to be involved with this."

"Then do not.", she whispered, placing her chin on his knee, Mace raised his head a little, they shared a look. "Everyone out there, including my father and your mother, has to obey you."

"If we don't wage war now and stay impartial, the king will make us pay after the war ends.", because there were no way of rebels winning. "What do you think?", it was not the first time he asked about Alerie's opinion on an important state matter but she still was surprised.

"I know nothin of war.", it never was her area of interest.

"Not but you know of politics.", she was a Hightower, of course she did.

"You are right.", she sighed, raising her head completely, Mace leaned back to his chair as well and helped Alerie to stand up and place on his lap, secured her by wrapping his arms around her. "This was is none of our business but remaining impartial would hurt us in the future. We must do something, little enough to protect our people but important enough to show our side."

"I was thinking of capturing Robert Baratheon at the border.", Mace whispered. "Is it too dishonourable?"

"Ashford is our borderline.", Alerie whispered as well, it felt like sharing a childish secret together and not an actual plan of war. "Give satisfaction to your bannermen but do not send men to them, two birds with one stone."

"Randyll?", he raised an eyebrow. "He wants war more than everyone. This would appease him."

"Bringing Robert Baratheon to the king...", she huffed. "His dreams would come true. We would end the war before it properly spread to the realm."

"I will write to Lord Connington after the council.", Mace threw his head back and closed his eyes in relief. "He'll tell us the best course of action and we will prevail."

"Yes, yes, we will.", she murmured as she lazily opened up the buttons in his collar, fingers tracing his rather sensitive skin. The door was closed but not locked, still she found a bit of entertainment in that, leaned forward, oressed her lips to below his ear. "You have time until the council?"

Mace's hands tightened around her. "Not too long.", he warned her, one of his hands slowly sneaked under her skirt while he nuzzled his nose to side of her face, inhaling her scent; mix of vanilla and lavenders with the roses she grew in the gardens. "Why have you come here in the first place?", he asked while her fingers worked fastly with the experience and opened the buttons of his doublet. "Something happened?"

Deciding to handle Olenna alone and not harm Mace any further, she shook her head. "I just missed you.", she cupped his face and bite down a moan as his hand reached to its target. "Am I not allowed to do that?", she murmured into his lips, his answer was a proper kiss and soon enough, she was laying on his desk with everything found their place on the ground, being in hurry to reach to the council meeting.

*

282 AC, King's Landing

"Princess, you must be very sad.", Elia closed her eyes, fingers dugging into the flesh of her palm as she prayed for calmness. "You have eliminated two Starks but it seems the third one will cast you down at last."

"What are you trying to say?", she turned to her frantically. "You are slandering my name, you are lying, it is enough!", having nobles around made matters even worse. She felt like she was losing her mind. Even Cersei who started to taunt her in the first place seemed taken aback by her reaction. "Don't you have a conciense at all? How can you make such a claim on someone innocent? Will you never stop from hurting people? Is your heart full of darkness and nothing else?", she took a step forward to her, there were tears in her eyes, she was tired, so tired of everything. Ser Barristan, the only person Gerold trusted in these days, were accompanying her and Ser Jaime himself was with Cersei, both watching the scene with shock.

Elia was not this sort of a person.

"Princess, calm down.", Cersei mocked. "Do not yell. It does not suit your standing. There are people around."

"And now you are playing the angel?", she let out a hysterical laugh. "Since when you think of other people? You are evil.", she declared. "You are cruel.", she was shaking. "And everyone knows this!", she yelled at her, her ladies shared vivid looks, they had no idea how things escalated this much.

"Ser Jaime take the queen away immediately.", Barristan gave a clear order to him, Elia didn't seem in her right mind and the kingsguard's job was to protect the royal family.

"You should see a maester, you do not seem well.", Cersei took a step back but still didn't shut up. "If you do not return back to your wellbeing perhaps our king would decide someone else should take care of your children.", Elia felt all the noises and the colours disappearing.

"Say one more thing about my children,", she took a step forward in a very dangerous tone, Barristan and Jaime shared a look. "I dare you."

"All I am saying if you cannot be a good mother to them, we can find someone who can.", she straightened her spine with a sly smirk. "I might to the job rather well, don't you think?"

"Go even near my children and I will rip your heart out!", Elia yelled, and made a swift gesture of the act, Cersei flinched back with the sudden physical contact but it didn't seem calmed Elia and Ser Barristan came between them in the last moment, both wide eyed, him and Jaime quickly take women away.

Nobody was sane after Rhaegar left.

*

282 AC, Highgarden

"I want my sons to busy themselves with their favourite pursuits until the storm ends.", Alerie said as she watched them from affar, both were in their horse-riding lessons. "Whatever they want, just keep them occupied and away from conversations they do not belong."

Master at arms seemed hesitant. "Lady Tyrell said-"

"I am Lady Tyrell and I say to you to make my sons happy.", Alerie interrupted him. "Dowager Lady Tyrell has no juristication over my grandsons,", she sent him a look. "or who our Master-at-arms is.", the man bowed his head. "If you want to preseume your job, it is wise to obey to the orders of the lady of the castle.", the man quickly left her sight.

She didn't like this, exract her power in a mean way but Olenna left her no choice but this. The silent war that has been going on between them ever since Loras was born took a petty shade with the sudden news of war and arrival of the Reacher Lords. She wanted power whereas Alerie wanted Mace to have power. It was maddening to see their fight apparently reched to her sons.

"You have a problem with the way I see fit of raising my grandsons?", she asked, obviously humoured, and Alerie didn't mind the servants around them, rolled her eyes freely and waited Olenna to come to her side, did not take her eyes off of her sons.

"I have a problem with the way you see fit mixing your title, dear lady mother. You are not the lady of the castle, but I am."

"And here I thought you loved dear Mace oh-so-much and thought him a curled up ball of perfection.", she snorted through her nose. "I raised him girl, if you like what you see, I will do the same with dear Willas and Garlan, and once the time comes, with Loras.", her eyes found her showing belly. Her becoming pregnant happened too soon after Loras born so she still had some of the weight she gained around her waist so it made the baby look further than it was "And with that of course. Another boy you feel?", Alerie did not answer. "A mother always would."

"Do not hope for another boy you can use for your deeds. This one will be a girl.", she didn't need to feel when Malora had seen it.

"You are smart enough to know a girl is the best way to use for one's deeds.", Olenna commented, sent a look to Alerie's uncharacteristically sharp face. "I have no intentions to mess with your motherhood, girl. I am only trying to teach you a lesson."

"No, you want to control Mace through me because you cannot do so alone any longer."

"He needs to wage war.", she cut it short, she never enjoyed smalltalk anyways. "It is not a choice, it is not something to think about, it is something he must do. Or he will lose the respect of his bannermen and fall to the bad side of the crown. I do not think, as a proud Hightower, you are in need of any sort of reminder how terrible it is to be on the bad side of the crown.", the realm had two Hightower Queens, both times everybody paid it with blood.

Yet House Hightower remained strong so Alerie easily pretended she didn't understood her meaning.

"Dear lady mother,", she sighed. "I do admire you.", it was not what she intended to say but it was what came out of her mouth. "You found a way to control your own fate in a world that was designed for men."

"I know your sweet words come with a price, child. There is a 'but' coming and once a wise man told me,", she snorted once more. "your father told me in fact, that he scarcely cared what one might say before 'but' for they are nothing more than mere excuses."

"Your days of ruling is over.", she turned to her properly. "You had your time and it passed now. It is I the Lady of Highgarden and it is Mace the Lord of Highgarden. The era of Olenna Tyrell closed off six years ago the moment Luthor Tyrell passed away. When, pray tell, you will accept this? When will you move on? You are still grieving, I can see that.", she commented, she did not enjoy this conversation but Olenna openly telling what to do to Mace and disagreeing with him was what harming him the must so she had to stop her. "Your husband is not with us any longer. Why are you torturing your own son instead of accepting this?"

"What is the plan here Alerie? Support Mace, it is your duty as a wife but since when supporting one through his obvious mistakes is a virtue? He is unmanned by emotions, why are you following him in this insanity?"

"When have I ever had a plan?", Alerie frowned. "Unlike you, I did not seduce Mace for anything. I did not pick him for his title, he was not my sister's betrothed-"

"No, but he was supposed to be your aunt's.", Olenna snapped. "I am not sure which one is worst."

"We married out of love.", it was answer enough. "Just because you try to control him to do your deeds, I will not betray to that love."

"If you truly do not see I am trying to protect the only son I have from the angry mob, if you truly do not emphatise with me, as a mother yourself, and get shocked by the lengths you can go to protect oyur own children, then you are a greater fool than I thpught.", she straightened her spine. "Do I want power? Of course I do. Everyone does. It is why the society is a thing. It is why there are classes solely exist due to one's luck, for we do not choose at which house we should born into. But if you truly think I want to start a war against bunch of unimportant rebels who will get crushed by the royal forces soon enough just for some meaningless power than it means you still are a child yourself. Perhaps reconsider the decision of the fourth one."

"Be careful, lady mother.", Alerie warned her. "You are corssing a line."

"I do not like you, Alerie.", she said nonchanatly. "I never have. Not when you were a little girl, not when you evolved into a young woman and most certainly not now. Yet,", Alerie noted she did not use 'but'. "thus far, you have been a worthy oppnonet and an admirable challenge. Our battles, however they may be too sweet for my taste, brought me satisfaction and seeing you to almost complete your evoliton from a wide-eyed, overly sheltered girl to the lady of this castle was worth something.", she took a step forward. "Do not let it all go to waste, do not make me disappoint now.", she shook her head. "You think I bore any love for the Targaryens?", she asked with an aggressive way. "You ever been rejected in front of the entire realm and became the bottle of the joke girl?", Alerie sighed. "No, you have not. I was no older than six and ten when that Targaryen prince chose a man over me and yet the entire realm put the blame on me. It was I who shunned from the court, it was I who became undesirable in the eyes of all men in Westeros, it was I whose pride got wounded by anyone can ever guess while that prince and his lover became heroes and songs were written for them.", there was a bitter look on her face. "There were no songs for me.", she spat. "You judge me for seducing Luthor and taking her away from Viola? What choice did I had? You claim you never had a plan? Well, there hasn't been a single day where I lived my life without one ever since I was a doe-eyes fool at six and ten. I am sick of you and Mace and your teary-eyes emotions. Real world works with logic, not with emotions and being capable of feeling one is not eulogy-worthed."

"Lady mother-"

"Stop calling me that when we both know you think I am the farthest thing from being one.", she spat and Alerie seemed unfomfortable. "All I ever did was to make Mace powerful because I never were. All I ever did was to turn you into a woman who can protect her ground, protect her children, protect herself,", she pressed. "when the time comes because no one ever done so for me. You want to become the Lady of Highgarden? The first thing you must learn is the Lords of Highgarden are fools. Feeling compassion for the enemy and putting the wellbeing of peasants you never met and never will over the wellbeing of your children cannot be described any other word but that.", she took a shaky breath, tried to calm herself down. This was the first time she ever let Alerie see beneath her mask. "You admire me for being in charge of my fate, then tell me, why are you this eager to lose yours?", she left Alerie there, alone with her thoughts and did not left her room for the rest of the day, did not attend to the council meeting.

Cried for the first time in six years when she heard of Mace's decision, one that he make and not she enforced. Her son finally started to become a lord and her work was almost done.

*

282 AC, King's Landing

"My little sun, my little princess,", Elia sighed with sadness but tried to smile for her daughter's sake, she was brushing her hair slowly. "they think they can defeat your mother, they have no idea that their power will never be enough. Look what they have done to me. I always tried to be calm, and kind and collected. I never wanted to plot and sceheme but now? Now, I will get rid of everyone who is between us and our safety.", she was braiding her hair lightly. "I will start with Jon, obviously. He is the one who is keeping us here, first I will get rid of him. Then that silly little girl posing as the queen. The king, all those leeches in the small council... One by one, they all will leave. Our reign will start. You and I and your brother. The true owner of this palace is us. Not them, not anything your father is up to but us.", Rhaenys nodded with smile and Elia giggled in return.

"And here I thought you regained back your sanity yet you are plotting the death of everyone with an open door.", Jon sighed, leaning his back against it. "You have a death wish?"

"Myles must have left it open, he will return soon.", Elia's smile died but she didn't flinch and she didn't turn to look at him. "What do you want Jon?"

"I came here to speak to you about what happened with Cersei, apparently I was interrupting your evil plan to take over the world.", he snapped his fingers and Nymella entered with a nervous face and under Elia's stern eyes, brought Rhaenys to the other room so they can speak in privacy. "If you are trying to prove me that I have mistaken with letting the children stay with you, you are on the good path."

"You are not powerful enough to take my children away from me.", she still didn't turn to him.

"You want to try that?", Jon, with a quick move, entered the room properly and Elia almost flinched by the loud noise of door closing. "We have lost Summerhall.", he deadpanned and this made Elia to look at him with a frown, fear unfortunately raising in her chest, despite her trying to supress her emotions. "Robert called his banners. I am trying to do the best I can but giving it is you who Robert uses as a bait,", he hiised. "it is more than hard to control the Marchers."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"To make your little head understand that we are on the same page!", he hissed once more. "You and I cannot survive without the other. Robert wants my head, Robert wants your head alongside with your children and your husband and his father and brother. He'd spare only the queen due to his fear of Tywin. No one will protect us Elia, if we do not protect each other."

For as long as she could remember; Elia was the perfec priness. Knew when to talk and where to talk, when to make a facial gesture, what to wear, how to address people, how to eat and all, she was the perfect lady, a worthy princess, elegant and never cruel. In Dorne, everybody loved her, in the capital, she had to dance with dragons and it was not easy when they were not even speaking the same language most of the time.

Something broke inside Elia, something dark reveleade itself the moment she read Rhaegar's letter. All those years of work, sacrifices and pain, she was left just like that as if none of it mattered anything at all. It was too heavy for a woman to bear, getting such a deep wound on her pride. Ever since that day, she was feeling different as if there was a void in her that she just couldn't fill. She couldn't smile, nor laugh, not truly. She couldn't cry even though her every waking moment was consumed by it. She felt like she was going to lose her mind between four walls, feeling madness rising within due to fear.

Perhaps Jon was telling the truth and perhaps he was not, not that it mattered much for Elia. She's been searhing for answers in her dreams, in her spells but none worked. She tried to run away in order to protect her children because if those dreams and spells ever said something to her is that both her children would meet with their demise at the capital but she was stopped. Perhaps it was time to try something new. Perhaps if she gave Jon what he wanted, he would give her what she wanted.

"What do you want me to do?", she cleared her throat and looked at him with exhaustion. "What can I do?"

"You are both a Princess of Dorne and the Princess of Dragonstone.", Jon shrugged. "Arrange a betrothal between Allyria Dayne and Beric Dondarrion.", the order was clear and even in the blur and shallowness of her memories, Elia recalled him trying for this at Harrenhal. "This is what will divide the Marchers and I can handle the rest from here."

"Andric would not allow it.", she frowned.

"His brother is the head culprit in the abduction of Lyanna Stark and his sister was apparently was impregnated,", Elia sighed. "by Eddard Stark. Lord Dayne is in no position to open his mouth and utter one of his worthless opnions. You have the power to do this,", he straightened his spine. "use it."

"And what you will do?"

"Pull some strings.", he tilted his head. "The Reach still didn't make a decision but we were told Lord Hightower is in Highgarden. They can stop Robert at Stormlands, I will make sure they will do exactly that.", he sent her a look. "And you?", he asked with cold eyes. "You will stop plotting for my demise until I handle this?"

"I just want to leave this place.", she said with defeat. "For my children."

"Trust me, it is what I want as well.", he stated. "If I can send you to Dragonstone safely, then I can leave it here myself as well, not the other way around."

"Why you will leave the capital?", Elia frowned.

"Someone will need to lead the army, no?", Elia seemed taken aback by this. "Who can do that but me?"

*

282 AC, Highgarden

"The information from the Stormlands has arrived, my lords.", Lord Crane opened the council the a week after they made the decision of a surprise attack. "We have located the place of Robert Baratheon."

"Tell me where the traitor is hiding and then just sit back and watch.", Randyll Tarly said with a dark tone.

"Lord Meadowes has sent word from Grassy Vale that after sacking the remains of Summerhall,", it was a disgrace to his own grandmother to begin with but apparently he didn't care. "he tried to march to Blackhaven but Lord Dondarrion has closed off his city gates. Already having too less troops with him, he couldn't make any attempts to force his way out there. Lord Meadowes says he barely has any force to conquer a small castle."

"Almost none of his bannermen choose him against the king.", Lord Rowan approved Lord Crane's words. "His uncles are supporting him, obviously. Houses Cafferen and Penrose are with him but not even the Swanns and the Carons are joining. All the Storm Lords are locking their city gates while racing with one another to capture him. He is locked inside his own region. Lord Connington kept his promise to the council and now Robert Baratheon is trapped inside a mine field with less than five thousand men, none battle-hardened."

"It is our one and only chance.", Mace nodded in determination. "Plan was always to use Ashford as a gate keep, lure him there and close the trap. With Baratheon in our hands, Arryn and Stark will have to yield."

"Lord Connington wants to end him himself.", Orlo Merryweather, the new Lord of Longtable due to his father's exile after choosing Rhaegar against Aerys, spoke with raised interest. "I was told he in fact longs for a war so he can be the one who can end it."

"Lord Connington happens to be the future husband of my daughter, Lord Merryweather.", Leyton warned him with cold hues in his tone, some of the lords seemed interested. The betrothal was 'official' but this was the first time they ever heard him saying so. "I advise you to listen news carefully so you would not slander my future son in law as a gloryseeker, given we are in this mess because of the lies and slanders of a child.", by now everyone knew it was the doing of Hoster Tully's ward. Riverrun was closed to everyone as well and the said boy was already shipped back to his home for creating more than enough troubles.

"We do know he is somewhere between Grassy Vale and Summerhall, so close to Ashford.", Vortimer continued. "We have gotten our answer from Lord Connington after the plan was discussed in the king's small council. Our orders is to bring him to the capital, it doesn't matter whether alive or not. Ashford is indeed the best place to capture him."

It was not nice that Daven was not there to decide on his own region's future. "Three thousand soldiers.", Mace declared. "You said he has less than five and all scattered around. If he is on the run, he cannot be with them. We will lure him to Ashford and with three thousand men, we will end him there. Can you do that Lord Tarly?"

"I can defeat a child like him with only a thousand soldiers.", he huffed.

"I will write to near provinces to be alarmed for any case. Cider Hall and Longtable will be where men will be selected, them and your own. My Lords Fossoway and Merryweather, do you have any objextions nor suggestions?", both shook their head. "Good. When the battle is done and you scattered his army, send the noble prsioners to Longtable and the rest to Cider Hall. Retreat the army all the way back to Bitterbridge. I want everyone to be away from the Dornish border. It is not good omen, their silence.", Mace gave his orders with ease, feeling more confident ever since making a decision he felt comfortable with and people chose to follow him nevertheless. "I shall write the last version of the plan to Lord Connington. Remember, this is our only chance. None of us can afford any sort of mistakes."

*

282 AC, King's Landing

Sometimes his heart was filling with rancor, venom, with pain and the grief. He could taste the anger in his mouth, the way doubt filled his soul just like in ink falling into the white snow, covered in winds of winter. It was when he would close his eyes, let his mind do the work, allow his soul to remember where it got its cracks, at which points his heart broken irreparably, remembering, reminiscing is the greatest divine service for him.

He was nothing more than a dead piece of cloth between the faded halls of the Red Keep before he came alive with the light of a twin flame. He was nothing more than a dried and forgotten, rotten leaf in the middle of the Kingswood, a stranger to himself, a stranger to his voice, not even realizing he was singing the same tune for his entire life before the arc of spring has came to teach him new melodies, only that he became one with his own harmony.

He would look at her golden hair and see gardens, vineyards, trees and flowers, look at her green eyes and see the purest of seas, filled with nothing else but the endless of opportunities of being someone. He would rest on the shadows of the trees that grew between the inches between him and her, would give away his name, his rights, his throne and crown, just so he could keep seeing her even from afar, without even connecting her but she has never seen any of them. She never knew any of them, not truly because if she would, she would believe in his love, she would trust in his love, she would not go and choose one another. If he would be better, Jenica would be alive today but he had lost her. It was not his first loss and it was not the last and he knew it was wrong to have her name echoed in his head as he blindly looked at the deep sea and the black ship that is getting away from the shore, carrying the legacy and the memory of his own cousin.

It has been two days since Lucerys Velaryon has closed his eyes to this realm and it has been two days since Aerys has closed himself to his own chambers, getting mad with memories -not of Lucerys but of Jenica. The strong urge to confess and ask for rgiveness was a scent that drove him into the depths of grief. It was like a prayer that he could not stop it now that he started to utter, like the richest of wines that he could not stop it now that he started to drink it.

Now that he started to remember, it was more than impossible to take it all back.

He knew who he was, what he was and his only regret in this life was not making her know that she was his only sun, their air that she breathed and his life was nothing more than a dark and venomous jungle ever since his sun has died for never to be born again, for never to shine over him again.

He was the moth to the flame that he approached with determination, knowing that it would burn him. He was the poor mortal who could not contain his love and joy in him, approached to the sun knowing it would melt his wings, drowning in the salts of the deepest of seas for the past sixteen years. He knew who he was more than anything in this world, who he was, was the only truth he believed in and it would be the only truth he would cry out when the Gods came to take his life.

He had walked through rose gardens and bloodbaths, found her in the brutality of the battlefields and the delicacy of gemstones and lost her all the same. He didn't live cities, seasons, roads, years but a lifetime in the second his eyes met hers for the last time.

Canon shoots made him startle for a moment -they were happening in the honour of his cousin, who deserved this after his long years of service.

In his youth, he preceieved death as leaving the earth for who went to their deaths willingly anyways? Who would want to get naked in front of the dragon? Ones who would see the death as a dragonfly, would give their life away, sacrifice their souls. Ones who see it as a wolf though, they would lost their way.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, he had an epiphany, his soul reached to the light. Everybody's death was in their own colour, a friend to a friend, and enemy to an enemy and he did not care for his own, no.

Only thought in his mind was what colour it would burn for his son, for he knew, as a father, his end was sooner than his.

*

282 AC, Oldtown

Sighing, she left the window side where she watched her youngest brothers spar on the outside and moved back to her small desk to finish the letter she was writing. She has always been a person who knew what she wanted, and more than most of the time; she got what she wanted. She was not going to let a war to prevent it for the first time and Leyton's absence gave her the perfect opportunity to reach out to the man she wanted to marry.

"My dear lord, the smile on my face and the thoughts in my mind,

Promises that did not came true has been breaking my heart with the pain of being absent from your side. My days are turning into nights, my nights are covered in nothing else but darkness and grief and I am dearly trying to hold on to the small glimmer of hope that perhaps we might still find each other in another life.

Gods knows, just as my father who is deaf to my heart's wishes, that I would depart a battlefield just to see your eyes shining under the moonlight once more, be blessed with your presence and hear the harmonies in your voice. It shall be my dying wish if we would not be together in this lifetime.

I want auroras and rose gardens, birds singing in love, nightingales cheering above a gold sept, your lips shall be the cure of the worst of this world and if my words did not sugercoated you into hasten your hand and work harder for this marriage to happen, I do not know what else would. A betrothal is not a marriage, a betrothal is not enough. You need to keep trying harder.

You have asked, in your previous letters, when you shall expect my aunt writing back to you and finally I believe I can give you an answer; never. It breaks my heart truly to notify you on this but Harrenhal has broke her to a degree none of us even knew was possible. She had given up from life itself, or she seems. While my father was here, we were spared from the worst of it but he still is away, in Highgarden, most of the Reacher Lords are there. It seems you might have failed to pursue me rightly, but your work will not return back to you without it fruits. If I know one thing; the Reach will not yield back to the unlawful tyranny of the rebels and will side with the crown, no matter the cost. They are merely being reluctant, waiting for a blow to start it all and given all whispers I had heart amongtst the hallways, the war is far more closer to us than I have previously thought.

Atera, on the other hand, as I said, we have seen how terrible the situation is, now my father is gone to control it. I have witnessed even Baelor worrying deeply about her wellbeing and you do know their infamous quarrels with one another. The entirerity of Oldtown is pitying her and she cannot even find it in herself to fight back. She hasn't spoken, not even a single word, since she came here. Alerie did her best but you do know soon after she gave birth to a baby boy, Loras, and I am glad to inform you that once again, she is with child. I never understand this inability to put a few years of age gap between children but if you ever succeed on guaranteeing my hand, do not be surprised that I will not turn out to be a baby machine like my sister. I dread of spending the half of my life with growing another human being inside me, if, which I pray for it every night, I ever would become your lady wife, my lord, prepared to be content with perhaps an only children, just as yourself. Gods knows I had enough of crowded families.

You might notice how cleverly I have distracted you from given the true nature of Atera's health and it only dawned on me that you might notice it so I am forcing myself to be honest; no one is suggesting out loud for they fear my father's wrath but I can feel the movements, perhaps even a preparation for a funeral for she does not eat nor drink. She is far away from her old glamour, as if she just took a vow of silence. Alea does her best (mind you that I could distract the situation here by noting how terrible it is to endure her silent war with my father but I shall not do and I expect the same courtesy from you when you write me back, informing me throughlt about the war since you are the only one who respects me enough to do so) but her best is not enough. I doubt anything will ever be enough.

I personally think that she is far away from being dead nor defeated. I know, in my heart, that she will rise back from her ashes and will not let this minor inconvenience -because let us be honest, she went through worst and I truly cannot understand what was so personal this time for her to become like this, to break her down. I know my aunt, I know that she is silently seething, watching, listening, waiting, waiting for a star to fall, for a fire to start, for oceans to rise and for war to properly break out.

Father forbade us all to even make the talk of it near her but I disagree, though do not have the courage to insist -just another thing that we both alike it seems. What she needs chaos, what she needs is a fucker with a problem and I believe, my love, you are the perfect candidate for it. Sadly, father does not allow her to be informed of the war, he doesn't deliver your letters to her -and Princess Elia's gets to be treated the same as well and there is no one else writes to her, not truly.

A sane person would burn them all on a pile but father acts as if it is his greatest hobby to collect unopened letters from a royal princess and the Hand of the King, which makes me be sure that I truly took my wits from my father. He sees what I see and knows this will wake her up but still choosing to wait. He acts as if she is a secret weapon, and for some reason I am not sure if it is against the king or against the prince but it most certainly is not against the rebels, and waiting for its use time to arrive. As I said, once the war reaches to us, to the Reach, to a region that did nothing to those traitors, my father will stop sheltering her any longer. I just hope that you and Princess Elia will manage to hold on that long. I have more faith than the High Septon himself that she just will be the solution to all our problems, not because she is too powerful or because she is too smart but because she is mad enough to go on lengths none other would dare.

Until then, do not do something stupid. I have decided a year ago that I will marry with the Hand of the King, not with you but with your title, just as you do not desire to marry me but essentially with my father. You can go and another might arrive, it would not bother me, it would bother my father even less. But even under the light of all this, I would want it to be you, Jon, and I mean that truly. I am all aboard, for the better or for the worst and we have never speak of it but I am aware that you can neither give me love or warmth in my marriage bed (I look on the bright side; I never liked children anyways) but worst could find me and I hope for us to be friends, at least that.

With my all heart I will pray for your safety,

Alysanne"

She let out another sigh, dried the letter and squared it delicately, burnt her finger a little as she tried to place her personal sigil and then gave it to her footman -who was not Leyton's man nor Atera's but hers and hers alone.

She looked at her looking glass, fixed the shoulders of her green dress (it was a velvety thing with dark green coloured lines adorning it, a silver belt was hugging to her waist and as accessories she was merely wearing, rather big silver earrings that the ends of it touched to her bare shoulders (she of course did not steal it from Atera, why would she do that?) and a small silver headpiece with a small griffin touching to her forehead) and sighed once more -it seemed sighing was all she did in the maddening peace of Oldtown and decided to visit her brother, Baelor.

She did hear the whispers of Lucerys Velaryon's illness after all.

*

282 AC, King's Landing

"I never knew Lord Velaryon had this many people who loved him dearly.", Jon approached to Elia, who was covered in black, watching the ship that will bring her to Dragonstone to send out the royal boat.

"He was the son of a Targaryen Princess and one of the king's best lickspittle.", Elia answered dryly. "Though he did won many great victories when he was young. His heart got darker as he grew up. I do remember that he was always kind to me.", she turned her ehad away with a deep breath. "You don't think he died just like that.", it was neither question nor a statement, more like something in between.

"We are living in dangerously turbulent times and such a death, which came almost too perfectly so none would think it came out of nowhere, of course rubs me the wrong way."

"I only know two people who would want to kill my uncle. One of them is living far away, doing Gods knows what in Highgarden.", meaning Leyton. "Though I doubt he would do so to the grandfather of his children. If him and Corlys and Jace went away with everything they have caused at Oldtown, it was because Lord Hightower loved his children. I don't see that changing."

"And the other person is?"

"Took his body already to Driftmark for a private funeral.", she shrugged, could Corlys go this far? Of course. The real question was who helped him to dare that? "Neither the king nor Ser Gerold are joining to it, for obvious reasons. Doran had excused his decreasing health, Oberyn is too far away and I know better than going to Driftmark.", there was a high chance she could never leave it again. "All my uncle's sons are going to be there, and a representer from every house in the Crowlands so it is not going to be private at all but still far less than he deserved."

"What of your father?", Jon turned to look at her, the wind was making the veil around her hair to fly back but she didn't seem bothered by the storm, Jon thireved in it. "Will they be expecting Captain Aethan's presence?"

"My father had less than little love for my uncle. He stole his birthright, my grandmother thougt my father was up to no good and they simply never got along. I don't even know where he is.", Elia turned to Jon as well. "I don't know many things these days."

"The air is stormy.", Jon shrugged nonchalantly. "I am sure once the waters calm down, your letters will find you once more."

"And who will make the waters calm down?"

"I will.", Elia never heard him being more confident before. "I kept all my promises. Your son is anointed, more than half of the realm swore fealty to him, he is recognized officially as Rhaegar's son and his immediate heir and now you will return back to Dragonstone, safe and sound."

"My uncle promised you the hand of Alysanne Hightower."

"If you want me to keep protect you and your children, first I will need someone to protect me but Lord Hightower, for reasons I unfortunately do understand, does not want this marriage.", a shadow of a smile passed from Jon's lips. "We do write to one another and well, she is remarkable.", his eyes narrowed but he did keep the venom away from his tone. "A marriage must be between equals. My title is equal to her name, and her brain is equal to mine. I want this match to happen because of reasons more than just survival."

"Atera does not answer my letters.", she said with regret.

"Neither she answers mine."

"I will try to contact with Ser Baelor.", Elia promised. "He will not join to the funeral, neither will his sisters.", this was news to Jon but he guessed Lord Hightower did not allow it. "Lady Malora, as much as I can tell, does not enjoy such events filled with people and Lady Tyrell just gave birth but I must say I am more than surprised that Ser Baelor will not join to the funeral, given he was raised by my uncle more than he was raised by Lord Hightower."

Jon got the indication. "You suspect something is about to happen in the Reach."

"We will lose the war without the support that will come from the Reach, something must happen there and while I believe into Atera's word that not even a single Reacher Lord would choose between Aerys and Rhaegar, I am more than sure they will stand by the crown and against the rebels. They are the support you need. Until I ensure the marriage, make it look like you had convinced Mace Tyrell and the rest for support. This will bought you time.", Jon turned to her in surprise, Elia sent him a look, she was better now, far better. It seemed Lucerys' death made her snap back to the reality away from her fears. "And while it is rather early for such talks,", she swallowed the ugliness of the topic. "you must make a decision on who shall replace my uncle on the council."

"I have promised to Lord Hightower,", Jon mused. "that Lord Redwyne would make an excellent Master of Ships."

"Good.", Elia nodded. "That he would do, he is the name I desire as well but,", she realized the royal boat coming close, she looked at him again. "will it be the name the king desiers? I heard Varys started to whisper into his ear once more."

"He had been whispering long before Harrenhal, I don't think we shall fear the new ones but more of the fruits of the old ones.", he said grimly. "I need to replace all the council members, except Ser Gerold.", Elia agreed. Ser Gerold was not a friend to them but he was not an enemy either. She couldn't help but huff though her nose and Jon frowned at her. "What happened?"

"Nothing.", she shook her head but a smile appeared on her cold face even though she fought back against it. "It's just; so many people are here and all of them are trying to dig a whole under the other. With all this plotting, surely some will fall in no time.", she turned to him. "Be careful.", she forced herself to say. "Whatever we feel for each other, whatever we have lived in the past, I will never forget you actually kept your promise and helped me.", she looked at him with sincerity. "Don't die out there."

"You'll be fine in Dragonstone?", he asked instead of approving. "You'll not try to do stupid things?"

"As long as we are safe there, I will not.", they both turned back to the sea. "I have a feeling the tides are about the change. Make sure that you are holding onto something before it happens."

*

282 AC, Oldtown

"Hey.", Daven entered the unlit room and frowned as he searched for the candles he knew all too well and light them with habit. He was too busy entire day by handling the orders that arrived to him by Mace and Randyll and uncharacteristically, Garth preferred to retire back to his chamber barely after the noon and hasn't descended from it yet. "Are you feeling alright?", his back was turn towards him.

"I am.", he answered but voice was overly hoarsed, Daven frowned instantly.

"I am going to call a-"

"No, no, no.", Garth, too exhausted to even move, threw away the blankets he wrapped himself into and made a move to stand up to convince him but his vision blurred and with an annoyed groaned, he preferred to sit instead. "Please do not call for the Maester."

Keep frowning, he lit up enough candles to make the room feel like sun was there. "Are you ill?", he questioned, it was unlikely. He didn't even remember the last time Garth was ill. "What is wrong my love?"

"I just am tired probably.", he threw himself to the bed, shievering internally, it felt like more than tiredness but he didn't admit it. "I was too busy with arranging the troops.", despite the initial decision, his father decided to aid numbers to Randyll and Daven's forces, given Alysanne's betrothal with Jon officially got announced. "I barely found time to sleep and the winter strike hard. It is nothing serious, I promise."

Daven sighed. "You should not-"

"Baelor is acting as the regent until father returns.", he was not going to have this argument, not for the first time in his life when he had a chance to prove himself. "It is my duty to accompany our troops and fight alongside our men."

Knowing it would be pointless to argue, he moved to the bed and checked his fever the first thing. He was aware Garth probably was overly cold, he was gritting his teeth to stop himself from shaking yet there was sweat covered his forehead, he was neither cold nor hot though, his frown turned into a scowl but none of his arguments worked on his lover. Half an hour later, Garth changed his clothes into more comfortable ones and both were tucked inside the bed with multiple blankets, he was laying on Daven's chest.

He was looking weak with his long hair looking too messy and face too pale. Garth never showed outside world any sort of weakness, a way of protection born out of being a Hightower but Daven always was the only one who knew the truth in his heart. This was looking more like a physical weakness, which he scarcely had. They were living in a world where their love would be their death sentence if they would ever be found out, a momentarily slip of power, a showcase of weakness would mean their end. It made them both stronger, Garth didn't seem so strong as he was shaking like a lost poppy found in rain.

Daven knew Garth was not sleeping even though he pretended he were, Daven himself was breathing steadily, planning to wake up before the dawn and sneak the maester. They had a long road to ride and even a longer battle, both needed to be at their best and Garth was so very away from it now. With half-opened eyes, he was trying to see his face but due to his position, being laying on his back, it was rather impossible but he also didn't want to move and start a conversation. Perhaps even in his pretending, Garth could fall asleep.

When they were in each other's embrace it was nearly always due to an emotional response. Daven stayed at Oldtown for moons, trying not to step on anyone's gown while doing so, after everything happened with Rhea. Now that was when Garth was weak and it was when he admitted. Waking up with all sorts of dreams and screams, arguing with everyone and everything. They rarely went to each other for physical protection for it was near impossible to harm them. Now in their embrace, Daven, for some reason, believed Garth wanted their bodies to be close, not just their hearts. He was ill, it was more than obvious and even though he himself preferred not to admit it, he too crave some level of comfort for it. As if his embrace kept him grounded.

Not ever asking the same question twice -a habit Garth loved, Daven sighed, decided to start a conversation. "Is this truly about you being exhausted? There is no other problem, no?"

"Atera is troubling me.", they talked about it countless times before.

Daven didn't know Atera that well. He of course knew her, they were all in similar ages and in the Reach, everybody knew everybody but they just never were that close. He knew she knew about them, he knew she supported them in her own way, he knew she protected them and he knew she was not alright. He didn't know the exact reason. Garth told him everything all the time unless it was a family thing, then those events were not his to tell, apparently this was one of them. All Daven was allowed to know was something went wrong in Harrenhal and she took it really bad, enough to be depressed. Garth said a few weeks ago that even Alerie enver had it this bad.

"There has been a change in her situation?", he wondered, perhaps something he haven't heard before. "When will Lord Hightower arrive back?"

"After we march to Ashford.", he answered the second question first. "And no, there is no change, no improvement and it is precisely the problem."

"I believe no improvement is a good thing.", he pursed his lips. "At least she is not going worse, this is something."

"It hurts,", he confessed with a whisper. "not being able to help her when she has done so much for all of us. Even Baelor's heart is breaking. None of us ever seen her this weak before. She is always so strong, so powerful. As if nothing ever could harm her.", he sighed. "I believe father will write to Prince Doran to hasten the marriage business. He believes Prince Oberyn might bring her back to life or something, I have no idea why on earth he would think such a thing."

"If we were allowed to be married, I would dethrone the Gods for your comfort.", he said nonchalantly but both of their hearts broke. Loving someone enough not being able to without them yet never being able to be together was the cruelest thing could ever happen to someone. "Perhaps he believes so as well."

"All Prince Oberyn will bring to her is more tears and pain and depression.", he bit his lips with hesitancy but then admit with defeat. "She already loves someone."

"Atera lvoes someone?", he knew her well enough to laugh at that for hours if it were anyone but Garth who said this. "I didn't know she was capable of that."

"I doubt she herself knew she was capable of doing that.", Garth murmured, exhaustion finally settling in. "It is not someone she can be with, whether father allows so or not. It is just a losing game and he had betrayed her already. She cannot digest it. She cannot tolerate it. She showed weakness for the first time in her life, she is sad how things turned out to be. Someone broke her heart bad enough to make her remind she has one. She doesn't know how to handle emotions now that she feels them all after supressing them for so long.", he supressed a yawn. "Not to mention about Baelor and his marriage problems."

"There hasn't been even a year since he married. What problems?"

"I don't want to say this but apparently Atera was right.", as usual. "Theirs were never true love, only got fed by impossibility of it. Baelor offered me to go to Ashford himself but I of course rejected it. We both have our roles and his is being the regent, and later on the lord itself while I am the warrior. I will not give up the only chance of glory for Rhonda Rowan's comfort.", he shook his head. "Forget all your plans that include a maester.", he knew him too well. "We'll start on road in the morning."

"If you will continue to be ill, I'll not allow you to fight.", he joked. "I am your lord after all, you shall listen to me."

"And what will you do instead having me fight?", he snorted. "You'll do so yourself?", Daven was no warrior.

"Perhaps I will do just that."

*

282 AC, Winterfell

"The shipwreck was found just on the corner of White Harbor, my lord.", Wyman Manderly said with a horrified face to a more horrified looking Benjen, nothing more than a child but most likely the last remaining Stark alive.

"On route to here, to Winterfell?", Benjen asked with a small voice. Of course they could not know if the ship would want to come to Winterfell but if there were horses rented or any sort of carriage arrangements...

"It seems so, my lord, yes.", Ethan Glover answered with a hardened tone of pain. "There were southern jewelry on it. Fabrics mostly coloured in Arryn colours and we do know Lord Eddard has departed the Eyrie a little more than a fortnight ago. Everything seems to be adding up."

"Not only that but there were Arryn guards on board as well.", Jeor Mormont rubbed his face, neither dared to say it out loud; the first thing that came to their mind.

"A noble man has been travelling to the White Harbor in the middle of war with Arryn soldiers, Arryn fabrics, Arryn jewelry and Arryn gold escorting him, is that so?", Benjen felt so small in a room full of grown men. "It could be Ned, yes but he never send word that he was coming."

Lords shared a look. "We are at war, my lord and your brother's head is the second wanted in the entire realm.", Dustin spoke, still grieving for his friend. "We were expecting for his arrival, planning for it even."

"He needed to raise the banners from Winterfell.", Lord Karstark explained it to the boy. "Take his place rightfully as the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North as if he was born for it and then-"

"Ned did not born for it.", Benjen's face fell. "Brandon did.", silence covered the room, neither knew how to approach to the boy.

"My lord,", Ethan took a step forward. "you understand what this means, no?", Benjen did not answer, wanted to cry but held his face true. Maester Luwin -who just got appointed by the Citadel after the death of their old Maester, right before Rickard left Winterfell, sent him a symphatetic look. "Your father and his heir had been dead and the moniker belonged to Lord Eddard now. If he is dead as well...", he did not finish his line.

"He is neither married nor sired a child -legitimate or illegitimate.", Karstark said with a colder tone. "That makes you the new Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, boy."

"No!", Benjen did not even think about the idea. "No, Ned is not dead, you have no proof, he is alive."

"My lord,", Maester Luwin spoke for the first time with a soft voice. "I understand your pain but we are at war. If Lord Eddard truly has passed away,", he shook his head. "you will take your place and the Northern Lords will appoint a regent for you, until you come off age. He shall declare for war or will choose to stay out of it, you must prepare yourself as we work in detail to locate Lord Eddard."

"You must be brave, Benjen.", Lord Mormont almost ptieid him. "Braver than you ever were. That's what your father would want."

"My father is not here to tell me what he wants.", Benjen spat with tears in his eyes but he did not let them fall. "But I know he desired for no war, neither did Brandon and certainly Lyanna herself would never want this.", he stood up from the high table, feeling smaller than a chair. "Make your research and appoint any regent you want but if I am the last Stark then my decision is set.", he straightened his spine. "There will be no war. I will not let any of you to sully my sister's memory this way."

*

282 AC, Starfall

"If Braavos suddenly started to prepare hundreds of ships, it means we are on their target and it means this little play of rebelliın must end before that. I cannot defend both things at once.", Doran said emotionlessly. He still was staying there despite getting his answer. "We need to crush Robert Baratheon."

"How will we do that exactly?", Andric snapped at him. "Reacher Lords are preparing something or it seems. We'll see what happens but I believe you all are underestimating this entire incident."

"Do not worry, I have a plan.", he snapped his fingers and the doors opened, Andric cursed loudly with the sight of his sister. "The time for Ashara's sacred mourning to end has come."

"It is not for you to decide that.", he threw the wine glass in his hands to the wall.

"I am his prince so it actually is for me to decide, old friend.", Doran disliked Ashara more than he could describe with words and merely tolerated her existence as she was Oberyn's lover and Elia's best friend. Now it seemed, for the first time in her life, she would be of use to him. "Ashara and I had a small talk together and came up with a united decision that she does indeed need a reason to go on."

Andric blinked. "What?"

His sister was barely showing signs of any sort of health. She ate only when forced, slept all the time with potions and never left her bed, never allowed anyone to open her curtains. She despised sun. It was forbidden inside the castle to laugh or make loud noises. Starfall was mourning with Ashara. But after one talk with Doran, it seemed she was brought back to life.

"She is too young to be depressed forever.", Doran commented. "After such a heavy loss, one would need to replace the pain with some other emotion, something as strong as that. I just helped her find it."

"Doran,", Andric's lips trembled in anger. "what have you done?"

"Fear not brother, I am still perfectly sane.", she spoke, exhaustion clear. "Prince Doran just helped me to see a different path to follow. One that I never considered."

"If you will say that path is revenge, I will sadly have to declare that path has been discovered before by many others and not even once it ended well, you cannot have everything at once Ashara.", he walked over her and held her hands. "You can choose to heal and close this chapter of your life, forgive and forget, move on, build a different life for yourself filled with friends and family or-"

"I do not want to close this chapter in my life, I do not want neither forgive nor forget.", she frowned. "I lost a child, brother, I will never live a day where I will not feel the pain of it. Healing does not come from forgetting, nor it comes from revenge. There is a third option."

Andric tilted his head. "And what is that supposed to be?"

"Closure."

*

282 AC, King's Landing

A week later...

"Tell me, Lord Connington, who it is that you suggest to take the new mantra of the Master of Ships? You have the loudlest opinion in the entire realm but I still am yet to hear your opinion on this."

Aerys basically lost all his strength, lost in depression and grief, looking dreadly similar to his days after Duskendale but Jon kept his mouth shut.

"Of course you know it far better than I, my king but despite all the controversy, Lord Velaryon was a good and honourable captain who won many victories, not only on Stepstones but all around the platenos and in such dire times of war,", Aerys turned his head, still did not grasp the heaviness of the situation. "we need someone who would follow his footsteps. Paxter Redwyne,", he kept his promise to Leyton. "the Lord of the Arbor is younger, quicker, smarter and the perfect option to carry on the legacy of such a capitan as Lord Velaryon. He had born on the sea and I have no doubt that he would prefer to die on it and would do what the sea commands, to bring us all victories in wars to come."

Jon entered the room, carrying the king's order. He preferred not to join to this meeting as well. Their weekly union turned into a daily one, given there were sounds of rebellion getting louder and louder ever day. The other members, all wearing black in respect, stood up, not even half taking him seriously but feeling a certain hint of intimidation nevertheless.

Qarlton Chelsted was there, the Master of Coin. He was lucky he still kept his head after everything he has done in Harrenhal. Symond Staunton, the Master of Law was always shivering like a wet rat, getting on Jon's nerves. After he secured the position of the Master of Ships, he was going to replace both of those traitors and of course Varys, who dared to look at him with an open animosity would perish not long after. Only Ser Gerold was honourable and worthy of his position and while he had no authority on removing Pycelle from his position, given he was appointed by the Citadel itself, he was sure Lord Hightower would find a right solution, once he finished his end of the bargain. All would be replaced by true loyalists. Not old men with rotting flesh and smelling mouths, born ready to sold their souls and honour for a piece of land and a cloth of gold.

Paxter Redwyne was just the start of the world he wanted to built -him and Rhaegar, once both believed on this dream and while his friend has betrayed everything they stood for, Jon was going to make that dream come true for it never was about names but ideals. He never followed Rhaegar because he was Rhaegar Targaryen, the crown prince but because he was Rhaegar, the dreamer.

He just never thought his dreams overachieved Jon's and mixed with burning madness.

"His majesty the king will not be joining us today.", he explained with a small tone, made a gesture for everyone to sit down but he kept standing, showed the scroll in his hands. "This verdict has been written by our one true king, Aerys Targaryen, and it carries the formal order of appointment for the position that got emptied by the sudden and tragic death of Lord Lucerys Velaryon.", he was brief and firm. But once he unscrolled the verdict though, he slowly raised an eyebrow and his blue eyes snapped to Gerold's cold ones, realized the Lord Commander was aware of the decision and was more enraged than Jon himself. "His majesty the king appoints Lord Corlys Velaryon,", he was squuezing the scroll too hard that his nails dug onto his flesh over it. "as the new Master of Ships."

And this was the choice Elia warned him against, the choice they all dread, the choice none thought would come true.

Having an aimless, moraless leech-like rat like Corlys Velaryon on the small council during war where the power might shift at any given minute was the same thing as signing the death warrant of House Targaryen but Jon remembered why he was on this road to begin with; because the king's paranoia and hatred blinded him to the reality, to truth, to merit. Paxter Redwyne was a bright young man and the king feared bright young men, even when Rhaegar fell this far from the grace.

And even if Jon had lost his hope along the way, this small act of self-treason brought it alive because damn all, his anger was contagious and none could change that but if Aerys was still afraid of Rhaegar then it meant there still was hope for Rhaegar and this time Jon was not going to leave him to himself.

This time he was going to save him, whether he wanted or not.

"Tell me, Varys.", he asked to the man that he was deaf to very long time but Lucerys' untimely death had unlocked the new flashes of paranoia and while he was aware Varys did use his unique position for his own behalf, he still was good at pointing targets left and right and in these days, Aerys needed hellfire not forced calmness. "Who should be my new Master of Ships?"

"In such times like this, where treason is our only friend, my king, you need men you can trust in your council, not men chosen by other criterias for having a bright mind means nothing if the said mind would not work for you. You need someone that would follow your footsteps, would take every word you utters as a divine order and that man is no one else than Lord Corlys Velaryon. His father served you faithfully, did not let himself get blinded neither by the brightness of Prince Rhaegar nor the rusty but powerful sounds of Robert Baratheon and I have no doubt that his son will do the same."

"And on top of that,", Jon clenched his jaw but no one noticed. "Lord Paxter Redwyne is appointed as the Grand Admiral of the Royal Fleet.", at least this was a win. Of course, he would be under Corlys' service but Jon was more than sure that Paxter Redwyne was a man who would make his own decisions, rather than following a disgrace like Corlys. "Let these news to be carried out by ravens, Grand Maester."

*

282 AC, Moat Cailin

The sea was cold and stormy but at least the sun was lighting up the scenery as Ned opened his eyes to the blinding daylight and grimaced due to all the pain he felt on his entire body. He could hear indistinct conversations and he coughed as he tried to clean the sand in his eyes. He was aware that he was laying on top of some sort of wood and when he finally managed to open his eyes and saw the small wreckage, he realized what has happened.

It seemed crossing out to Moat Cailin, even in a small boat, was not a bright idea for they had been caught up in a storm. He was hardly breathing as someone finally blocked the sunlight and Ned tried to see straight.

"Welcome home, Lord Stark.", the man's voice was all to familiar. "We have been waiting for you.", Ned squeezed his eyes and opened it once more, only to meet with the green eyes of Howland Reed.

*

282 AC, Ashford

Three weeks later...

He was laying on the long table, as pale as a snow and as lifeless as a rock and the brunette man was standing next to him, tears cannot fall down due to the immense pain he felt. He didn't even felt someone else entering the tent.

"I have been told you were refusing to retreat. You were even refusing to leave this tent.", and of course when his sons acted rebellious, their father appeared out of nowhere. "Did you eat today? Did you sleep? Are you in a state to think clearly?"

"It is my fault.", all Garth managed to do was to whisper, his hands, warm and alive, were holding his, cold and not so alive and it was all his fault. "I did this."

"What is your fault?", Leyton frowned as he properly entered to the tent. "This was a battle, son. No one has life insurance in times like this. You could not know this can happen."

"I was too sick to fight.", he continued to whisper. "I should have lead the attack, not him but I was sick, too sick, I do not know why. It should have been me, not him.", he closed his eyes. "He was no warrior but I was. It was my duty yet I was too sick for it."

Leyton took a deep breath and approached to him, very well aware how delicate his son's situation were. Just because they never talked openly about it didn't mean Leyton was a fool. A father always knew when his children were in pain.

"The whole country as at war, son. He would have to fight eventually, tomorrow if not today."

"He only did today because I was too sick.", he repeated dryly. "He died because of me.", he couldn't even finish the sentence.

Leyton placed a strong hand on his shoulder, gripped him tightly to prevent him from falling to depth of grief and regret. He knew how hard it is to live when there were no light at all. "He died because someone put a sword through him, son. It could have been anyone-"

"Yet it was him because of me.", he repeated more strongly this time. "I never got ill in my life, not even once.", he spat in anger. "Yet in the most important day, here I was, sleeping instead. I am a shame to my family."

"Speak rightly about my son.", he squeezed his hand. "He is not a shame and I will not let anyone use those words in the same sentence."

"You must think I am a fool, father.", he bowed his head. "You don't understand. You never do."

"You think I never lost someone I loved.", he asked with a frown. "I have been married four times, son. Not all out of love perhaps but all cut the same.", Garth took a shaky breath and raised his head at him, surprise covering his entire face. "You think I didn't know? I wasn't aware?", Leyton sent him a look. "You are my son.", he said sharply. "My son.", pressed even further. "There is no one in this life who knows you better than I. Daven was a good and a kind man, I know you loved him and I know he loved you.", Garth blinked, tears finally starting to appear in his eyes. "But he doesn't need you anymore. I need you, your brother needs you, our family needs you.", his eyes found the lifeless frame of the young lord. "You were not ill, Garth, you have been poisoned. We have been betrayed. I don't know what the rest will do but I will not let any of my men to perish here when we don't even know the enemy we are dealing with."

"Father I-", he blinked to send his tears away but it was no use. "Fahter I loved him.", his face broke down. "I loved him. I am so sorry, I loved him.", he started to cry and Leyton's face softened, pulled him a tight hug.

"I know you did.", as he shook with tears, he felt his own heart breaking as well. All his life, he tried to protect his children from this pain and yet here they were, in one of his many failings. "There is nothing you need to apologize, none of it was your fault. This is not your fault son. It is not your fault, you have been betrayed.", and Leyton was going to find him and Leyton was going to rip his heart out for causing his son this pain.

*

282 AC, Riverrun

She woke up to the sounds of her sister crying -and sweing. It seemed all she did ever since Brandon Stark left Riverrun to chase a foolish ideal. She just cried until her eyes matched with her hair, until she couldn't and she spend all her awake time by sewing, claimed it relaex her mind.

"Cat?", she whispered, her throat hurt too much and her lips were dried, she didn't remember what happened. "Cat?", she tried again and her sister, who was wiping her eyes with napkin once more, making her skin go sensitive, turned to her with a great relief.

"Lysa, thanks to the Gods!", she threw everything away and rushed to her side, sat on the bed, placed a hand on her forehead to try to understand if she had a fever. "I was so worried about you."

"What happened?", she asked with a grimace and Catelyn reached for the water, helped her drink it -it only made her stomach cramp with hunger and nausea rise through her mouth.

"I do not know, no one told me anything.", she frowned. "But there was too much blood I guess, Edmure saw you. You were fine one moment and passed out in the next, you've been sleeping for days. Father barely allowed us to see you.", Hoster Tully was panicked and living his days in fear for neither the crown nor the rebels interacted with him. He was not sure if this was a protection or an insult. "I have been in despair, couldn't do anything but pray for you.", she closed her eyes. "Though if praying worked, none of this would have happened.", she shook her head and focused on the matter. "Are you alright?"

"I have pain in my stomach.", she frowned. "I feel so tired and as if my blood burns me."

"Shall I call for the maester?", she sniffled. "I shall call for the maester.", she corrected herself and squeezed her hand one last time and rushed away from the room, Lysa imagined her crying until she returns and then a sudden need of crying hit her as well for she remembered what has happened.

How her father killed her baby.

*

282 AC, King's Landing

"It will not be easy winning a siege against Storm's End but with great canons and miners working underground, I believe we will achieve a victory.", Jon spoke, haven't been sleeping for the past three days ever since he heard the news of Ashford, eyes were twitching out of anger and there was over all a crazy look on him.

The council members looked at each other. "Ashford was not a victory, my lord, if you ever feel-", Varys tried to spoke but the murderous look on Jon's face shut him up.

"Both Cafferen and Grandison are dead, Robert is on the run, the remnants of his army is less than three thousand he has no choice but to leave the Stormlands completely. Randyll Tarly managed to force him into retreat back to Riverlands where Hoster Tully still haven't made a decision yet and we have most of our strongest allies in that region. It was a win.", he said with hidden hysterics in his tone.

"But Robert Baratheon is alive.", Varys said.

"It does not matter.", Jon snapped. "Our goal was firstly to stop his movement to the capital and we achieved that. Stormlands is ours now. He cannot unite with Lord Arryn or with that Stark boy playing pretend to be a lord without Riverlands. He is trapped.", he pressed.

"Stormlands is not ours yet.", he pushed him to see how far he could go.

"Did our letter to Stannis Baratheon reached yet?", Jon asked to Pycelle, the old maester almost flinched to the tone of his voice.

There were serious concerns about his sanity in the recent days, ever since he managed to send Elia back to Dragonstone.

"Richard Lonmouth just returned from there, it shall take a few more days for an answer to reach to us, my lord.", he turned to the other members. "We have reminded him of their lack of sources and stated the Reacher Lords saw the region as theirs now and would do anything to keep it that way. We adviced him to evacuate the city to prevent losses and surrender the castle in peace. Given his age, I believe he will obey direct orders."

"Once we have the castle, the war basically will end.", Jon said to himself. "Robert cannot survive this."

They shared looks once again and still feeling the deep grief of his lost cousin, Aerys called the meeting off, halfly relaxed by the improvements and victories yet before Gerold managed to leave with everyone else, Jon asked, shaking unvisibly.

"I am not losing my mind."

"When even was the last time you slept boy?", he wondered. "When you ate? You have a war to win, I can see that but before defeating the enemies outside, you must defeat the ones in your head.", when he didn't say something, Gerold sighed. "He'll not kill you, not right now.", he assured him. "He needs you. Go and sleep, or else you will not think straight."

"Tell me that you see what I see.", Jon begged. "Robert couldn't know about Summerhall yes he did. Robert couldn't know that our tropps were positioned in Ashford. It was not a blind attack to defend a border or to sack a city, it was planned. He knew those tropps would be located there, he knew when the main forces would arrive. He knew how many soldiers he had to bring and where to fight. Tarly managed to drive him off but he knew.", he pressed. "How? Two plans that could end the war right here and there didn't work because he knew. I did nothing wrong but he knew. How?"

Gerold's blue eyes observed him longly. "Go and sleep, son.", he adviced but with pitty this time. "Once you rest enough, you'll figure out the answer yourself for you already know it."

Someone betrayed them.

*

282 AC, Myr

Laying on the sweetly cold bed, Oberyn was smiling as he watched Ellaria tried to play the harp but failing adorably. His eyes moved around her dark smooth skin, long waves of black hair and tried to forget that she was part Dayne, tried not to see her similarity to Ashara though neither were a hard task. He was driven to her character rather than her beauty, or else he would be at Oldtown now, trying to win Atera's hand sooner than later.

"My prince,", he did not even flinch when the door abruptly opened, just throw a piece of blanket to Ellaria so she could cover herself and not feel uncomfortable. His lover was many things, just not as shameless as Oberyn himself were. "a raven found us. Sent by our glorious Prince Doran.", Oberyn raised an eyebrow, this was the fastest he was summoned right back from an exile and he was itching to know what it was about.

Thought the look on his soldier's face did not bring him any good vibes. "Is Doric aware of anything that is written in the letter?", the soldier didn't answer. "Are you?", he pressed, Ellaria chuckled softly as she laid on his legs, he was sitting on the bed now. The soldier, with a dark face, nodded.

"It is not pretty my prince and my orders clearly state that I shall take your sword, blade, dagger and anything that can be used to sharply stab someone, before you read the letter.", Oberyn's eyebrows rose even higher.

"Does my brother aware I can kill a man with my bare hands?"

"Prince Doran hopes that you would not draw steel against our own countrymen and you would not sully your hands with the blood of passangers."

Oberyn snorted as he made a gesture for Olyvar to move and take his weapons, if he would feel bloodthirsty, he could always find his way to the ticker that is guaranteeing him the deepest hell anyways.

"Doesn't my brother knows me at all?", but his smile froze on his face and then died shorter than the poor creature he shot just earlier, right through the heart, the remnants of it was resting on a silver plate on the side but Ellaria declared, in between kisses and laughs, that she could not eat any more than she already had.

"What is it my love?", Ellaria dared to speak perhaps after a few minutes of silence, lfited herself up from Oberyn's legs and shared a look with Olyvar. "Something bad?"

"Elia had a baby boy.", Oberyn murmured, face getting darker and darker, enough for Olyvar to made a gesture for two more guards to enter, their orders were clear; keep Oberyn from making a fatal mistake.

"That is good news, no?", Ellaria looked at Olyvar in confusion.

"And Rhaegar Targaryen left her for another woman while she barely survived the said birth.", he spat. Ellaria blinked feverishly. "No one knows where he is, no one even has a single clue on where the fuck he is, that fucking traitor Dayne and Whent are with him in this madness, and not only that!", Oberyn threw the letter to the ground and stood up, veins threatening to pop. "A fucking war has started because king murdered a Lord Paramount and his heir in cold blood and now Robert fucking Baratheon is coming for them all.", Ellaria stood up in panic as well. "Pack your things.", Oberyn ordered. "We are returning back. Let us see how long Rhaegar Targaryen can hide from me."

"I fear not, my prince.", Ellaria sent warning looks to Olyvar but the old man was used to Oberyn's outburst, which was why he was being charged with Oberyn's safety directly by Doran in the first place. "Prince Doran has clearly ordered for you to remain here, until he says otherwise."

"My sister has been humiliated with a newborn in her arms and I am supposed to remain here, thousands of miles away while that silver-headed fool fucks his whore in Gods knows where?", Oberyn moved towards Olyvar in angry steps, two other guards took a step forward, their hands on their sword. They had to keep Oberyn under control and Doran told them to do whatever they needed to do in order to achieve that. "If Doran thinks I will leave Elia to her fate, he is more of a fool than Rhaegar!", he declared and tried to leave the cabin in the ship but Olyvar placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"My prince,", he pressed. "please do not make me use force."

"Even my goddamn father is there.", Oberyn leaned his face on and spat without blinking. "You and whose army will keep me away from my sister?"

"Mine will.", a foreign voice made Oberyn's attention to snap there and he swallowed a curse with the sight had seen. "Cousin.", Lord Qorgyle bowed his head with cold eyes.

"I will part my way out covered in blood if I have to, in order to reach my sister and no man,", his hand found the hidden blade at his back. "can stop me-", but fore he managed to pull it out, Ellaria acted quicker and took it from him.

"This is for your own good.", she said with determination as Oberyn looked almost betrayed. "For your own good."

*

282 AC, King's Landing

In the dead of night, where the rain covered the entirety of the Crownlands, a lonely rider found its way to the gates of the Red Keep, hooded in black silk, head bowed deeply and the guards did not recognize him.

"State your name and purpose!", one of them yelled loudly, voice became one with the strong winds and hodded figure's only answer was to uncover his face, and look at them with a deadly look on his face. The guards flinched so back that they almost fell. "Alert the Lord Commander.", he ordered to his friend. "Go now, bring Ser Gerold!", the Hand was strictly out of contact as they speak, forbade anyone to enter to his chambers and even they knew better than to alert the king himself.

"What is happening?", Gerold entered to the scene, not in his kingsguard armour but thickly covered by black silk just like the man below.

"This man is seeking for entrance.", the guards answered, voice shaken. "We weren't sure what the protocol was here, Ser.", he dutifully bowed his head and let the deadly kingsguard to take a look to their visitor and watched the way the colour disappeared from his face as he took in the man's white hair, more prominent under the dark night.

"I have been gone for five minutes and you have started a war in my name.", the man commanded the scene with all his elegance and the old Lord Commander -face was covered in the ugliest shade of anger, raised his eyebrows to the friendly banter.

"Seize him.", he ordered, the man below did not flinch, smiled instead, as if he was expecting this. "Take his sword, and drag him from the halls of the Red Keep, all to the king's chambers."

"But Ser-", the guard who went to summon him widened his eyes in shock, such an order was unexpcted.

The other was more collected but he still sent a hesitant look. "Ser, this is the Prince of Dragonstone!", he claimed. "We cannot seize him!"

"He is a rebellious prince that was away for more than half of the year.", his tongue hit to the roof of his mouth. "He shall answer for his crimes and will be released if the king would deem him innocent.", he snapped his fingers.

"Ser, we can't-"

"No, you are right.", Gerold nodded, he seemed getting angrier by the second. "Bring me Ser Barristan and Ser Lewyn,", the man below smiled wider but even from the distance Gerold could see it was filled with remorse. "the kingsguard shall handle the matter."

And Rhaegar Targaryen, did not protest, not even once, as the men who taught him how to be one, dragged him all through the halls he spent his childhood.

At last, he was home.

*******

I know we have frequent time skips but they are necessary, the rebellion scattered around years and I don't want to focus on anything else but the rebellion. Also, I am aware we don't have rebel povs in this chapter because of the character sharing I talked about before. In each chapter, we focus, mainly, on two chapters. At last, they were Jon and Ashara, in this, it was Jon and Mace. Robert and Ned's times were come. The new chapter will be published on Tuesday.

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