Chapter Text
Rhaegar
“The lad hasn’t said a word since we took him, Your Grace.” Benjen didn’t seem worried at that, his voice matter-of-fact as he spoke. “I suppose it makes sense, after your brothers die and your father sells you in return for not losing his head.”
Rhaegar frowned slightly as he surveyed the harbor below him. Most of the royal forces had remained outside of Pyke, preferring the safety of their encampment than the relative comfort of the castle, damaged as it was. Now, more and more of them were leaving, either for the mainland or for the other large isles near Pyke. Yet while his eyes watched them depart, his ears were only for Stark now.
The northman's eyes were on him, Rhaegar knew that. Despite his steady recovery, all knew that head injuries had the impact that were hardest to detect. The Kingsguard present had been largely focused on trailing his sons, but Rhaegar knew that they had been watching him closely, watching for any change in his health. And my behavior, I suspect.
Stark had stopped speaking, awaiting the king’s response. “Time will loosen his tongue,” Rhaegar said tiredly, “time and Prince Aegon. He’s already smiling more. Soon my son will have him speaking.”
More and more, Rhaegar found himself observing his heir’s words and actions, searching for strength and weakness alike. While he had always taken care to shield his children from the worst of the world, this campaign had reminded Rhaegar that he was doomed to failure. As he had told Arthur, the time had come to actively prepare them for their futures.
Theon Greyjoy was proving surprisingly helpful in this regard. The lad was a few years older than Aegon which, coupled with the circumstances, Rhaegar had thought would help to keep his sons from interacting with the new ward. Jon was acting as most had expected, avoiding Theon as much as he could, and acting warily when they were near one another. Aegon, on the other hand, had proved more curious than wary, and by now had warmed to Greyjoy.
While some of the lords were against it, Rhaegar approved of his son’s reaction. If future rebellions by the ironmen were to be avoided, it would mean forging ties with them, however reluctant some on both sides would be to make them. A friendship between the heir of Balon Greyjoy and a prince of the Iron Throne would go a long way towards reconciling the crown and the Iron Islands. While Rhaegar doubted that Aegon was thinking along those lines, it made him think diplomacy would not be hard for his heir to learn.
That reminded Rhaegar of something. He turned towards Benjen. “When and where was Lord Tywin’s son the last you saw him?”
“Lord Tyrion? I think he was overseeing the ships that just came from Lannisport.” The knight pointed towards the shore. “Right around there. Do you want me to go fetch him?”
“No,” said Rhaegar, “we’ll go find him.”
“Your Grace, the maester-”
Rhaegar knew where he was going and didn’t let the knight get there. “The maester says many things, Benjen. Such as that the fish near Pyke have too much iron in them and shouldn’t be eaten. Only we need the food, so we eat anyway. Necessity often trumps wisdom, you know this as well as I.”
“So enough about maester’s, ser. I have been all but ordered to bed by a maester or men acting in one’s name ever since we got here. Even my sons treat me as if I might fall over if I am not sitting or lying somewhere. If I wish to improve, that means I’ll need to make my body do things it might not wish to, like any man wishing to grow stronger.”
The knight looked at the king for a few moments, then nodded. “I’ll take the lead, Your Grace.”
Rhaegar rolled his eyes, but he supposed Stark could be given that much. As they started walking from the cliff’s edge, it made him wonder whether the Kingsguard resented the plans Rhaegar had made. If it had been his to wager, the king would have put all the gold on Casterly Rock on yes.
Thinking of Casterly Rock brought Rhaegar’s thoughts to his brother. From the letters he had received, Viserys did not seem to mind the idea of being a ward to Lord Tywin. That had been an unexpected relief to hear, truth be told. Viserys could be charming when he tried to be and had a fierceness that was worth cultivating. For all that, he lacked the natural charm that Aegon had in spades, and his temper was nigh on impossible to curtail when it was aroused. Rhaegar suspected that Tywin Lannister would have no qualms about disciplining Viserys when he got out of hand and hoped that such discipline would stay with his brother.
By now they had reached the harbor. Some men bowed as the Rhaegar walked by, but many were too busy with their tasks to pay him any mind. Some of noble status may have resented it but the king didn’t mind. Given everything that had happened, Rhaegar expected he and the men shared the same desire- to go home.
True to Benjen’s memory, the young Lannister was directing men and supplies on the waterfront when the king and his companion found him. He was speaking with what looked to be a steward, an older man with a balding head and splotchy skin. Lannister guards standing just a few feet away. One of them noticed Rhaegar’s approach and called his lord’s attention to it. Glancing at Rhaegar, the heir of Casterly Rock bowed quickly, the men around him following suit.
“Your Grace, a pleasure to see you,” Tyrion began. He turned towards the steward. “We’ll pick this up another time, Erryk.” The steward bowed to Rhaegar, then walked away, lips pursed as he did. Lannister smiled as he turned back towards the king. “That man may be a steward, but he knows as much as ships as a blind man knows about sunsets, which is nothing.”
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. “A matter of supplies? Or seaworthiness?”
“Nothing of importance,” the dwarf shrugged. “I doubt you came to speak to me about the state of my father’s ships, valuable as they are. Dare I guess this dragon has flown down to ask after one of his own?”
Rhaegar nodded. “Yes. From what I’ve heard, Viserys is taking well to life at Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin did not voice any concerns about his mood or behavior.”
“Yes, I am sure he hasn’t. The Rock is full of wonders and treasure, enough to sate the curiosity and hunger of any man, even a prince. I am sure he’ll find something to complain about if given enough time.” Tyrion looked at the king carefully as he spoke. “Ser Mandon Moore has been helpful in keeping Your Grace’s brother out of trouble. Will one of his sworn brothers be joining him?”
“No. Including my queen there are seven members of the royal family. There will always be at least one Kingsguard with each of them.”
The dwarf raised an eyebrow at that. “Even in Winterfell?”
Rhaegar frowned. “Yes, though I don’t see how that is your concern, Lord Tyrion.”
“The royal family is all of our concern, Your Grace. And given what happened in Lannisport, I suppose guilt at how our own measures to protect the royal family failed has plagued me for some time.”
Benjen spoke at that. “Guilt at the failure of the guards, or of the men who got past them?”
Rhaegar turned his head towards the knight. “Ser, do not imp-”
“Your Grace, if I may.”
Rhaegar looked towards Tyrion, who had bowed his head as he spoke. The Imp’s eyes were looking at Benjen, who was eyeing the dwarf with all the sweetness of a hungry predator. The king hesitated, then nodded.
“Thank you.” Lannister turned to look at the Kingsguard. “I don’t blame you for your suspicion, Stark. You’d be a fool not to consider my house and I had a part in the plot. But then, you’d be an even bigger fool to go further than that.”
“Your city. Your servants. Your castle.” Stark growled each word. “Seems fairly straightforward to me.”
“Which is why you should distrust that conclusion. If it seems so obvious that House Lannister must have been behind trying to harm or kill the king’s sons, then why would we risk it? Or not at least try to make it look less obvious? Anyone with sense can see it more likely that someone is attempting to use my family as their decoy, or at least trying to drive a wedge between us and the Iron Throne.”
“I don't have a mind for plots nor wish to, my lord.” The knight’s eyes were cold, his hand on his sword hilt. The Lannister guards mirrored the action, eyeing the knight.
Rhaegar had heard enough. “Though you do have a talent for unsettling armed men, ser.” The knight turned but the king refused to let him defend himself. “I have made my desire plain, yet you continue to indulge yourself despite that. I wished to speak of the future, and you instead dwell on the past. Now, close your mouth and do not use it again until I address you.”
Stark subsided, though the man’s eyes continued to eye the young dwarf in front of him. Lannister sighed as he turned towards the king. “A wary man is a better guard than a trusting one, I suppose.”
“We were speaking of Viserys,” Rhaegar said impatiently. “I wish for Lord Tywin to know that my brother should not be indulged in his whims merely because of his station. If he goes too far in his requests, or attempts to make demands of your father, he is free to discipline him. Excepting physical harm, of course.”
“Of course, else Ser Mandon might need to start relieving men of their hands.” Tyrion smiled. “Your Grace need not worry over my father’s household. He is more than capable of handling a cocksure stripling, even if he is a prince.”
Rhaegar didn’t need to be told that. Every man he had spoken to on the subject had told him much the same. Most thought it a reason not to give Tywin Lannister a royal ward. Or a hostage, depending on how one looks at it.
Yet he knew that House Lannister could not be ignored. Rhaegar had grown up with Lord Tywin, when the latter was his father’s Hand of the King. The man could be domineering and cold but was one of the most capable lords in the Seven Kingdoms, as well as one of the most dangerous. Rhaegar knew that better than any man living and could not afford to leave Casterly Rock without any ties to the Iron Throne. To do so would guarantee the making of an enemy who could in time be one of the Iron Throne’s greatest assets.
So, the lions would have to be indulged in some parts. Including the needling that Tyrion Lannister was becoming notorious for. “I am aware, Lord Tyrion. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to others who are departing this day.”
The Lannister and his men all bowed as Rhaegar walked past them, Benjen close behind. Rhaegar’s pace had a new energy to it, fueled by anger and worry.
When they were far enough away from the Lannister’s, he stopped and turned towards his Kingsguard. “I told you to never let those besides those you trust what you are thinking. Does my word mean so little to you as it seems?”
“Of course not, Your Grace,” Stark replied. “It just seemed likely that the Imp already knew where I stood.”
He is right about that. “Perhaps but confirming his suspicions did not help matters.”
The northman frowned as he looked at the sand at his feet. It almost made Rhaegar sorry for his words.
The argument Benjen had given to the young Lannister had been heard before. In Lannisport, just before departing, Rhaegar had summoned him, Ser Arthur, and Ser Barristan to attend him in his ship. They had discussed what happened, and its potential instigators.
The day before, all had seemed well. The preparations were going smoothly, the various lords and their men were getting along well enough, and the king and his kin had all been treated with the respect and courtesy their station demanded. Nothing of note had occurred. At least, not until supper.
Aegon had grown tired as the meal went on. Jon had been much the same While his sons rarely wished to sleep so soon after eating, Rhaegar had sent them to bed early, instructing Ser Barristan to stay with them as they slept. The knight had collected the two drowsy princes and taken them to their chambers, where Rhaegar expected to see them the next morning.
But that had not happened. Just after the hour of the wolf, Rhaegar had been awoken by the doors to his chamber slamming open. Arthur had sprung to action, Dawn in hand to see to the noise, only for Barristan to walk in, carrying Rhaegar’s sons under his arms. He still held his own blade, and both it and his left arm were dripping with blood. The sight had inspired fear in Rhaegar more than anything he’d seen before and he had only resumed breathing after seeing that his children were unhurt. He had then set the royal household to securing the castle. While Jon and Aegon had been separated at his Kingsguard’s insistence, no second attempt had been made on them.
In the cabin, he and the knights had argued over who the culprit was. Benjen had been quick to point at House Lannister, but both Rhaegar and Arthur doubted it, for the very reasons Tyrion Lannister had stated. In truth, the potential conspirators included many of the lords of the realm, great and small, including those at the royal court. In the end it remained easier to guess who did not have a part in it than who did, and even then, there was no way to be certain.
Rhaegar had commanded that all who knew of it not to speak of it to any save himself and his Kingsguard. Still, word had spread, and while Tyrion Lannister had been quick to realize what had happened, it was only a matter of time until the attempt became common knowledge. Which was part of the reason for his anger with the knight standing before him.
“Perhaps he did,” Rhaegar said, “I doubt the men standing just behind him suspected it or knew anything about the matter until you spoke of it. Now there are five Lannister men who have heard of a conspiracy around events in Lannisport, and I do not care what Tyrion Lannister might say, they will speak of what just occurred.”
Stark grimaced at that. He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes going back down. This time there was no defiance in his stance, just weariness. The king sighed.
“Benjen, you may be right,” Rhaegar acknowledged, “but throwing out accusations like that with no proof rarely has the desired effect. At best, it angers people who are innocent, while at worst it incites the guilty to continue their treachery. Silence may be difficult, but it is the wisest course of action. Let the cowards who attacked the royal family think themselves safe and secure, and they will be more likely to make a mistake.”
Stark sighed and bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace. When hunting, only a fool runs about the woods, hollering for the prey to come to him.”
Rhaegar smiled at that. “Indeed. Now then, your brother’s ship isn’t that far. Jon will be expecting us to come bid him farewell, so I suggest we start moving.”
The knight nodded. Together they started walking further along the harbor’s waterfront.
As they did, Rhaegar’s gaze went to the water itself. It was dark, reflecting the clouds that hung overhead. They may call it the Blackwater, but the waters near King’s Landing have never looked this dark that I can recall.
King’s Landing brought Rhaegar’s mind to the family who remained there. From what he had heard, Rhaenys was doing even better than he expected, and Daenerys was also well. The court itself had been restless without word of Rhaegar himself, but things seemed to be calming down finally. At least, in public.
Behind the sheen of victory and calls for celebration, the small council had sent word of their respective concerns about Rhaegar’s decision regarding his sons and brother. Given how closely House Targaryen had come to annihilation just a few years ago, they made it clear that having the king’s male heirs sent from the king’s side less than wise. No one on the council has the spine to call me foolish, let alone mad. But then they do not know what I do.
Lannisport had only confirmed what Rhaegar had suspected for some time. If anyone intended harm to the royal family, then keeping the royal family together could be just as dangerous as separating them. For all his objections, Jon Arryn knew that Rhaegar and his family’s safety could not be guaranteed unless all others were sent from court and the Red Keep closed to any who might wish House Targaryen ill. Impossible in practice, and foolhardy even to consider. So, Rhaegar had made up his mind.
Aegon would be named a ward of Lord Tyrell of Highgarden. The man had been a loyalist to the Iron Throne until the Sack of King’s Landing, and had provided men, ships, and even one of his bannermen to sit the small council. There was no reason to question his loyalty to Rhaegar, and the king knew that no Tyrell would never undue harm to come to Aegon, or else face the wrath of both the Iron Throne and the powerful houses in the Reach that still considered themselves better suited to the rules of that kingdom.
Of course, Aegon would be expected to travel elsewhere in the Reach besides Highgarden, visiting other castles and towns and so forth. The movement would prepare Rhaegar’s eldest son for the travel that a king had to be accustomed to, and the visits and exposure to the lords and ladies of the Reach would better train him for life at court. The fact that a moving target was harder to strike had also informed Rhaegar’s decision, and he had shared the thought with Willas Tyrell, who had quickly promised he would make it so.
Aegon had been delighted with the news. The young Tyrell had, like every other lord present, sought to impress the royal children with tales of their families and lands. He had proved more successful than most, and Rhaegar’s eldest had been delighted by the idea of training for knighthood in the cradle of chivalry. Yet for all that, Aegon had still been less than pleased that he and Jon were being sent to different parts of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as saddened that he could not spend more time with his mother and sister before departing.
That brought Rhaegar’s mind to his queen. Elia, I wish you could understand…
Those had been the last words he had spoken to his wife before he had departed for Lannisport. There had been a time when he and Elia had shared more than a bed, but also their children, and their hopes, both for their family and for the future of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet nothing lasted forever.
The Sack had changed everything. Afterwards, Elia’s concern for her children had come to overwhelm all other concerns and remained her priority even now. Rhaegar did not blame her for it, even understood it, yet could not allow himself to lose sight of the future, not when so much hung on the children. All of them.
Elia’s words rang in his mind. But you insisted he be raised here, alongside my children, the ones who nearly died so that he might be born.
She was not wrong, Rhaegar conceded that. But he was certain that keeping his younger son apart from his family would not help anyone heal, as Elia and others seemed to think it would. And regardless of that, he could not forget those words, burned into memory by his kinsman. The dragon must have three heads…
He was jolted from his thoughts by Benjen’s elbow. His eyes left the sea to find the knight pointing. He followed the finger to a large galley just ahead, the grey and white direwolf of House Stark flying from its mast. He nodded at the knight, then began walking forward.
Eddard Stark was with Ser Barristan when Rhaegar came onto the ship’s deck. The two men were arguing, their voices quiet but clearly earnest as they glared at each other. Jon stood just a few feet away, his dark eyes glancing from one to the other with worry etched in his face. It dropped away when noticed Rhaegar’s approach.
“Father!” Jon ran to him, wrapping his arms around Rhaegar’s waist. “Is Aegon with you?”
Rhaegar glanced quickly at Benjen before meeting his son’s hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry, Jon, but Aegon isn’t with me. He and Ser Arthur are on their own right now.”
Jon’s face fell at that. Then it brightened. “He’ll make it. He always does.”
“Let’s hope so.” Lord Stark walked to where Rhaegar and Jon were standing. “The tides will shift before much longer, Your Grace. Either we leave soon, or we are stuck here for at least another day.”
“Somehow I doubt one more day will kill you, Lord Eddard,” Rhaegar said with annoyance.
“Maybe, but I wish to return to Winterfell and my family as quickly as possible. The summer may be young, but the harvest is due.”
Rhaegar doubted the harvest was Stark’s greatest concern, though he conceded that his family was likely driving him to return home as soon as possible.
Then the gods smiled on him. At least, that’s what it felt like as a familiar voice rang out from the waterfront.
“Jon! Father!”
His younger son rarely smiled, but he did so now, more brightly than Rhaegar had ever seen before. He turned just in time for Aegon to barrel into him, one arm hugging him while the other did the same to Jon.
“Arthur said to hurry, so I did!” Aegon was breathless from exertion, but his grin was as bright as his brother’s, perhaps more so. “He swore he’d beat me here, but I made it first!”
“By no more than a yard.” Rhaegar glanced towards the gangplank, where Arthur was walking up. His calm breath confirmed Rhaegar’s suspicion, but he said nothing of it, instead congratulating his son’s successful race against the knight.
“I told Uncle Ned you’d make it, him and Barristan too,” Jon said to his brother.
“Well, he made it,” Stark began, but the look Rhaegar gave him made him pause. The northman sighed before continuing. “We need to sail soon, Jon. Cat and the rest are waiting.”
“I know.” Jon turned to look at Aegon. “You’ll write, right Egg?”
“Write? I’ll be up there before too long!” Aegon laughed. “That, or you can come visit me in Highgarden.”
Jon laughed with his brother. Watching them do so together made Rhaegar smile. But with it came an ache, knowing that their laughter could not slow time.
Nor did it. Ser Barristan cleared his throat. “My princes, Your Grace, time is short. We need to be going.”
Egg threw his arms around Jon, clutching tightly at his brother. Jon did the same, both still smiling as they did. After a few moments, Aegon released his brother, then turned to glare at Lord Stark and Ser Barristan. “If Jon writes about how awful it is up there, send him back or make it better. Or else I’m coming for him!”
Rhaegar laughed. “You won’t be the only one, Aegon.” I’ll bring an army if that’s required.
Rhaegar turned to look at Lord Stark also. “My son is more precious than any treasure made of metal or gems, Eddard. Do not make me regret this.”
Stark looked at him carefully, then nodded. “You have my word. On my honor, I’ll do right by Jon.”
And somehow that was enough. Rhaegar nodded at his good-brother, hoping it conveyed his warning and gratitude at the same time.
Stark’s actual brother walked up and embraced him. “Take care of yourself, Ned,” Benjen said, smiling, “and the lad too. Try not to let him burn Winterfell down.”
“I’ll try to manage,” Stark replied, smiling at his younger brother. Benjen knelt to accept a hug from Jon, clutching his nephew tightly. Then he stood and walked off the ship, crossing back to the waterfront. Arthur bowed once before following Benjen off the ship.
Aegon hugged Jon once more. “This is just farewell for now, not goodbye.”
His younger son smiled again. “Farewell, Egg.”
“And you, Jon.”
Egg smiled before following the Kingsguard. He moved quickly, but Rhaegar saw the tears glistening on his eldest’s lashes. Sighing, he took a knee and put a hand to Jon’s shoulder. There are no tears in that gaze, Rhaegar thought, though there was a sadness there, that seemed all the deeper without tears to accompany it.
“Jon,” he said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, “be good to your uncle and his family. The North can be a harsh place, but you are more than strong enough to bear it. You are a son of the dragon, let no man tell you otherwise….”
Rhaegar’s voice wavered a moment, but it continued, “You are Lyanna’s son, and mine, and nothing will change that.”
He hugged his son, who returned the gesture, hugging Rhaegar so tightly he thought a rib might crack. After a few moments, though not nearly enough, they released each other, and he turned and walked onto the gangplank, away from Jon, away, away…
By the time he turned around the gangplank had already been lifted. The ropes were being drawn back, the sails untied. The ship was leaving, but even now Jon stood on the deck with Eddard and Barristan, a hand raised in farewell, a smile on his face. Rhaegar mimicked the gesture, watching as the ship seemed to drift away, the figures on it growing smaller until he could see them no more.
“It’s alright, lad,” Rhaegar heard Benjen speak behind him, “the time will fly, I promise. You’ll see each other again before you know it. And until then, you and I will go on an adventure or two down near Highgarden.”
Rhaegar let out his breath, his chest aching as he did. He turned towards Aegon and the two Kingsguard walking over to be with them. He knelt to grasp his son, hugging Aegon against his chest. His son did the same, before leaning back to meet Rhaegar’s gaze, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It won’t be too long before he comes back? Before we are all together again?”
“No, Aegon,” Rhaegar replied, “after all, he is your brother, one of the dragon’s children, like you and Rhaenys.”
He turned to look at the horizon. “And the dragon must have three heads.”