A Vision of Westeros: A Song of Ice and Fire (IC)

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

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The Early Months of the 276th year after Aegon's Landing

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Outside of the Red Keep
The Crownlands of Westeros
The Hour of the Dawning Sun

Long ago when King Aegon the Conqueror, first of his name, first set foot on Westeros, in the area of King's Landing he spotted the highest of the three hills of the area and named Aegon's Hill. It began as the first act in his Great War of Conquest that he built his first fort of earth and wood and after the completion of the Conquest, Aegon ordered the construction of a permanent royal castle on that hill. The construction was completed during the reign of Maegor I, who killed all those who worked on the castle to preserve its secrets. High on Aegon's Hill what was now called the Red Keep stands tall as the home of the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms, the Seat of House Targaryen. In the great city of King's Landing it is the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. In the Hour of the Dawning Sun the keep's shadow stands as an imposing structure and a reminder of the power of the Targaryen people of Valyria.

The Red Keep is made of pale red sandstone and has seven massive drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts. Massive curtain walls surround the keep, with nests and crenelations for archers. Thick stone parapets, some four feet high, protect the outer edge of the wall ramparts. The heads of traitors are traditionally placed on iron spikes gibbeted between the crenels at the gatehouse. The walls have great bronze gates and portcullises, with narrow postern doors nearby. The immense barbican has a cobbled square in front of it. Behind the walls are many small inner yards, vaulted halls, covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries.

Inside, the Keep holds the Iron Throne, the seat of the monarch of house Targaryen; Several gathering halls, including the Great Hall and the Queen's Ballroom; Relics of the Targaryens dynasty, such as polished suits of black armor and dragons' skulls sit in hallways. Doors are made of oak banded with black iron. Rushes are used on the floors as the weather cools. The weather was also indeed cooling. The Regal Targaryen Prince walked out of the keep in an angered huff as his deeply serious expression turned from gentle exasperation to patient endurance. He was without his armor but was wearing his red surcoat and carried the sword at his belt, made of Valyrian steel. His dark lilac eyes were serious and he took a deep breath as a small bluster of wind turned to a fierce blow and his silver hair whipped in the wind. The chill, the feeling of cold sank his heart nervously and he knew that his argument was not made clear enough.

I just do not know how I can convince father that he is sorely mistaken. The Lannisters are not men to be trusted... he thought as the people, smallfolk, spotted the perfumed silver Prince of Dragonstone whose sharp Targaryen features could not be more distinguishing. He looked at the smallfolk with the same gloomy serious disposition he was known for and then closed his eyes and gave a bow, which of course made them pleased and immediately they paid their respect to the heir apparent who would one day be the King. Ser Rhaegar Targaryen, the newly dubbed Knight of the Seven had his misgivings about his father's choice of becoming rather friendly with the Lannisters, but none more than when he named a Lannister as hand of the King.

Father, bless him, must be entering the greater stage of senility or perhaps it was the putting down of the rebels at Casterly Rock that gave my father such admiration of the Lannister Lord, but... brutality for its own sake does not cull the fires of rebellion. the Prince of Dragonstone thought as he walked to the Singing Siren in the Hook, a small a two-storey timber and brick tavern with a mermaid on the sign, with several stained glass windows depicting the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands 'taming' a maiden of the sea. Rhaegar did not pay close attention as he entered the building and the smooth tile floor made an audible clack sound as the Prince sat down in his corner reading another book as the usual bar maidens 'observed' and fawned over the prince. He was far too absorbed with his reading material to be bothered by it but this day made him uneasy. This meant that his reading was not only interrupted but he just couldn't focus on the written word at all.

He set the book down in frustration and instead took his harp and walked out of the building after paying his bill gaining much of the attention of the smallfolk as he passed. He of course did as he usually did with his gentle and cordial demeanor hidden behind the serious exterior as he went to the Gate where the King's Guard protected the edge of town.

"In which way may I serve you, Heir of Dragonstone?" The Gate Guardsman asked with a more direct approach as Rhaegar seemed to stand there for a while saying nothing.

"I need a letter delivered to House Martell, House Tyrell, House Tully, House Stark, House Baratheon, House Lannister, and ...

Perhaps house Greyjoy... on second thought not house Greyjoy... No my heart wavers. Rhaegar thought as he tried his best to contain his nerves.

" A Letter to all the Houses in the Seven Kingdoms." Rhaegar said with more conviction. "It is my desire that in the Fortnight I will compete in the King's Tourney which is to be held in father's honor in Lannisport. I shall invite all anointed Knights of the Crownlands to test their mettle in battle and also to test their courage on the mount. I will require the Hand of the King to prepare for such an intention to be met."

Perhaps there I can find someone who is willing to help me in giving the Lannisters a different direction. Rhaegar thought but did not speak as he looked at the Guard and the Guard nodded to the Prince.

"It shall be done, Your Grace." the Guard said with a warm smile. Rhaegar gave a noble bow as he left King's Landing to return to the Isle of Dragonstone.

The Great Hall in the Red Keep
The Crownlands of Westeros
The Hour of the Dawning Sun

Since the construction of the Red Keep, the Iron Throne was located on a high platform in the Throne Room and is decorated with the skulls of their mighty dragons. The members of the Kingsguard stand guard below and when the king is presiding, only he, his family, and his council may sit. All others must stand or kneel in order to prove their loyalty as subjects of the King. King Aerys, second of his name, had a strong reign and began with a very promising start. It began in 262AL and under his father and grandfather, the court at King's Landing had become stuffy, filled with old men, so Aerys brought sweeping changes, replacing many at court with younger faces.The first dozen years of Aerys' rule were peaceful. The realm recovered from the tragic events at Summerhall and grew both rich and strong. When Aerys became prepared to set up the King's Small Council he was impressed by the ruthlessness of the young Lannister in dealing with houses rebelling against Casterly Rock, and so Aerys named a Lannister as the King's Hand. In his honor the Lannisters were preparing to host a tournament held in Lannisport which the Dragon King Aerys planned to attend. The Tourney was arranged to welcome the King to the West. A plan young Rhaegar felt was one to solidify the hold that the Lannisters had over the Seven Kingdoms's Great King. Aerys thought this was a laughable worry that the Prince had, but was proud that his son felt strongly enough that he wanted to prove himself in the tourney over the Lannisters.

His fear, however, was one that Aerys II Targaryen did not quite understand. Once Aegon first of his name had conquered six of the seven kingdoms, he proclaimed himself king of Westeros, and the rule of the Iron Throne extended over the continent and his blood has been in control for over 300 years. He was acknowledged by the previous kings in the North and the Rock, and had the support of the rulers he had appointed to the Stormlands, the Riverlands and the Reach. The first years of Targaryen reign perhaps was a period of uneasiness and turmoil, but that was because after King Aegon's death, his son Aenys, born of incest was considered a weakling. When he took the throne the Faith of the Seven rejected his legitimacy to rule which led to the Faith Militant uprising uprising against the Iron Throne. Unable to deal with the crisis, King Aenys handed much of the responsibility for the war to his half-brother, Maegor, who served as the King's Hand. He succeeded Aenys after he died five years later as Maegor I Targaryen. Maegor I the Cruel was a harsh ruler - his response to the rebellion was bloody and ferocious, resulting in the deaths of thousands in battle, slaughter and dragonfire.

The slaughter lasted all of Aenys and Maegor's reigns. During Maegor's reign contruction of the Red Keep was completed, and to preserve its secrets, Maegor had all its builders put to death. Eventually, Maegor was succeeded by Jaehaerys first of his name. Jaehaerys brought peace to the realm for over fifty years. King Viserys first of his name reigned over a time of peace and plenty for the Seven Kingdoms. However, upon his death there was a succession dispute between his elder daughter and designated heiress Rhaenyra and his younger son Aegon. This dispute led to the first major civil war in the history of the unified Seven Kingdoms, that would be known as the Dance of the Dragons. The civil war ended with Rhaenyra's defeat and execution, but the rule of Aegon second of his name was short. After his death, Rhaenyra's son Aegon third of his name took the throne taking the daughter of Aegon, the daughter of the brother who slew Aegon's mother, as a wife. Although the conflict had been resolved and the continuity of the Targaryen line was again assured, the war caused great damage to their power: many dragons had died during the fratricidal fightings, thus depriving them of their most valuable resource.

Since then the occupation of Dorne became a priority because it was the only Kingdom which had long been defiant to the Targaryens's rule. Upon taking the throne in 157AL King Daeron I, at the age of fourteen and almost immediately launched an invasion of Dorne, in an attempt to finish Aegon the Conqueror's work to unify all the seven original Kingdoms and to ensure the rule of the Iron Throne. His campaign was a success, he managed to invade Dorne, but the rebellious Dornish made holding it a costly adventure. It is said the conquest of Dorne lasted but a summer and that the Young Dragon spent ten thousand men taking Dorne and lost fifty thousand trying to hold it. Daeron himself died while trying to solidify control of the area, after the Dornishmen rose in rebellion. He died at age eighteen and was succeeded by his brother King Baelor the Blessed proved a peaceful king and a pious man for a time.

Baelor the Blessed constructed the Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing when he later went mad and died in 171AL and was succeeded by his uncle, King Viserys II, who was the tenth Targaryen to sit on the Iron Throne. He reigned for only a year but it said he truly ruled and preserved the land for much longer, as the Hand of the King during King Baelor's time and King Daeron's before him, while he was campaigning in Dorne.
His son King Aegon IV would end being remembered as Aegon the Unworthy, held to be the worst king in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, in part because he legitimated all his bastards on his deathbed planting the seeds for the Blackfyre Pretenders.

King Daeron the Good who brought Dorne peacefully into the Seven Kingdoms through a dual marriage pact. He survived the first of the Blackfyre rebellions which ended with the death of his half brother Daemon Blackfyre. Daeron died in the great spring sickness and was succeeded by Aerys I, a bookish man who left most of the running of the realm to his Hand of the King, Brynden Rivers. Another Blackfyre rebellion was ended at Whitewalls during his rule. Aerys' death without issue let to the crowning of his younger brother Maekar I who ruled a dozen years. He was followed by his son Aegon V who became known as "the Unlikely" seeing as he was the fourth son of a fourth son. House Blackfyre was finally exterminated during his reign in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Aegon perished in the tragedy of Summerhall. Next came the sickly Jaehaerys II. Though frail, he was wise and ruled well in his short reign. He was followed by the current King Aerys II who led the kingdom into great prosperity. His son's worries seemed like a simple speck of dust in the eye of a mighty Dynasty of flying Dragons. Aerys took an exasperated breath as he looked at the letter from Ruger and rolled his eyes.

He tells me of spies and conspiracies everywhere. Perhaps he is looking for one to start then? The King thought to himself with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. His tired violet eyes narrowed as his silvery hair was tied back. He wore the crown of Maegor and began to write a Letter to the Lannisters of Lannisport.

To: House Lannister of the Westerlands,
From:King of the Seven Kingdoms Lord of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men

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Lord of House Lannister,

Your King accepts your proposal to come to Lannisport and the Heir to the Targaryen Throne, the Silver Prince Rhaegar of Dragonstone has agreed to to participate in the events. We hope that you prepare your finest men and we hope that the realm will also send their finest warriors and women to prepare for our arrival. None shall please us more than to take joy in the presence of our new Hand. Please accept my finest blessings and I will come within the Fortnight with the treasure of Dragonstone.

I look forward to the Tourney,

[Cantalvia]

The Chambers of the Daughter of the Rain House

The Stormlands

Hour of the Dawning Sun

It was the early moments of the day the Helenia enjoyed the most, the only sounds to be heard was the roar of the waves and howls of the wind as they whipped against the salt worn walls of the Rain House, walls that fell away into the swirling waters of the Shipwrecker Bay.

How simple it would be to fall, to dash against those rocks and let the sea take me Helenia sighed softly as she felt the spray burn against her skin how she ached to find the courage to let go, to be swallowed by the swell the and melt into the icy depths. She pulled her robe tighter around herself as the chill of the gale finally claimed her comfort she turned her back to the sea and returned into her bedchamber.

the maids will be coming I’m sure Helenia fell back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling, her eyes forming patterns from the crags, faces, flowers, horses it was a game she had played for long hours when she was younger, some patterns were almost like dear friends to her now. Her eyes narrowed as she heard the door creak open she lifted herself up from the tangled mess of her sheets and gazed at old women, how she hated them, she stood and raised her arms biting her bottom lip as they disrobed her.

Helenia locked her eyes on a carving on her wardrobe it was a boat naturally almost all the furniture had at least one boat carved on it as if one could forget that the Wyldes clung to the sea cliff like barnacles, the women scrubbed her red raw with icy cold water, her father didn’t believe in the luxury of hot water in the mornings, he would drone endlessly on about how this would build her character.

Helenia was convinced that it was because she was a woman and therefore did not deserve the treat of being warm in the mornings. The dress chosen for her was a dull grey wool with black embroidered hems at least the old crows had given her a warm dress today, she sat down and drifted off into thought as combs were pulled through her long dark hair reality only called her back once in awhile as the combs caught a tangle, her eyes glared at the wrinkled hands in her looking glass, she was beyond scolding the maids they were half deaf as it was and it least they did not chatter inanely like the younger maids do when they think their betters were not listening. When they had finished and left Helenia stood and looked at herself in the looking glass one last time, her eyes carefully trailed over her pale and distant visage, blue eyes and dark thick brown hair like her mothers it was said, she snorted to her self and left her chambers to break her fast.

The dining hall of the Rain House was not a large one the Wyldes though comfortable were still not the most wealthy of the houses in the Stormlands, Helenia entered and curtsied to her father and his advisors and moved to the sideboard and began to gather her breakfast. This was another of her father’s character exercises that a noble should be able to gather their own food in the mornings, though the servants had laid out the large serving platters for them it almost made her smile to think of how this small hypocrisy seemed to escape her father. Just as she had begun to cut into her kippers her father cleared his throat, Helenia set down her knife and fork and turned her gaze up to him.

“My daughter are you aware that you are seventeen years of age and still you are not even betrothed?”, the old man began to twist his stache in annoyance.

Ah, so it is to be one of those days again, Helenia steeled herself and allowed her face to form a small smile, “Why my Lord is it not the duty of the father to find a man worthy for his daughter?” one of her father’s advisors had nearly choked on his beer.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in such a tone! May the Others take you! such burden you are if only your mother, may she rest with the Seven, ONLY if she had given me a son instead of an insolent female like you!” his fist slammed down onto the thick wooden table.

Helenia waved her hand slowly at her father and spoke quickly, “Why of course if I would have been born a man all your troubles would have melted away, why you would not have to hire tutors to educate a woman in the art of governance may the Seven never bring such a burden to our greatest enemies, I know I am of the weaker sex father for I hear it from you most days! FIND ME A HUSBAND let him whisk me away from this briney hell!”

“You are a Wylde and you shall act as such, a husband you say? I have just the remedy for you and may the man teach you to hold your tongue, you are leaving the Rain House tomorrow there is to be a great tourney my dear it has been the talk of the season, you will go and you will impress the men of the other Houses your duty my daughter is to rectify the damage your birth has brought us! Marry and then bear me a grandson!” her father flew to his feet and marched out of the hall followed by his advisors leaving her alone.

Helenia ate her meal slowly and then rose to her feet, a great tourney... she had never left the Stormland before the thought of it was exciting and dreadful in the same moment, she walked slowly to her lessons thinking only of what the journey would be like and how in the seven hells she would impress any man let alone a noble son. She shook such a weak thought from her mind she was a Wylde and she would find a husband, one who would impress her father, one who would make the Wyldes a great name. A smile crept upon her lips this may have been the only kindness you have given me father..., Helenia now would own her birthright and she would sweep down upon the Rain House like the great maelstrom their arms depicted.

[Tully of Riverrun]

Riverrun
Seat of House Tully, Lords Paramount of the Riverlands

Riverrun was a bustling castle with grooms and servants running to and fro. Word of the King's Tourney in Lannisport, and Prince Rhaegar's letter, had by virtue of ravens reached the ears of House Tully. And now the Tully folk were preparing for the journey into the Westerlands. A tourney this size had not been held in many years, especially since the rumored downturn of King Aerys' mind. Knight and squire alike in service to House Tully were eager to test their mettle and perform martial deeds in the eyes of their kings. And at such social events marriage deals were made, and alliances shaped within the ever-changing web of nobility in Westeros.

To an honest man like Lord Kevan Tully, such a grand tourney was a blessing and a curse. Not a fan of the never-ending political intrigue his position called for, he still loved the joust and melee and was eager for his sons and knights to shine. No doubt his daughters would receive suitors. Sansa was a tall beauty with auburn hair and a woman's curves now, and even Jyanna with her blonde Whent hair was now of age. Time was passing quickly, it seemed. The river flowed on, his father had always said. Riverrun, and House Tully, simply endured it.

In his solar Lord Kevan had read the letters Maester Quent had brought. The reminder of the King's Tourney was grand news. Prince Rhaegar's had also been bright news. The Prince participating at the same time his father was present may mean news of Aerys' paranoia to be unfounded. The King had not oft left the Red Keep in years, it was said. And House Tully had not been called on to present themselves. Kevan stood dressed in a fine red and blue doublet emblazoned with the leaping trout of his house. His finely cut hair and fierce red beard complemented his appearance well, and he left his solar intent on finding his children.
Outside his door Maester Quent awaited patiently.

"Maester Quent," Kevan began, "Please sent the appropriate responses by raven, and inform all my bannermen. As Riverrun is sufficiently westerly, I will expect any participating to arrive here to join my in traveling to Lannisport."

Quent bowed his head. "At once, my lord." With that he was off, back to the ravens.

Kevan descended the stairs and made for the Great Hall. Within his two daughters sat with their handmaidens and friends, gossiping and sewing. His uncle Alester was meeting with the heads of the individual work details that kept the castle functioning smoothly. Alester Tully would also be castellan when Kevan departed. He considered stopping for a word, but decided to exit out the main doors. Guards stiffened to attention at his approach, and servants bowed their heads with a "m'lord" as he passed.

In the yard Tully knights sporting the red and blue colors of his house practiced at quintains and with each other. Among them were his sons: Willem and Benethon. Though two years apart the lads were similar enough in size and appearance with matching red hair and blue eyes that they were often mistaken for each other. Willem was quicker with a blade and excessively brave, while Benethon was more given to strategy over personal combat. Lord Kevan Tully watched them as they went to their training. Their cousins and other relatives had arrived earlier to join in. Though the Lannisters were at best considered cooly, the King's Peace ensured no fear for the Tully clan to travel to Lannisport in size. And many bannermen would accompany them.

Watchers on the western gate called out, and the open portcullis revealed the Twin Towers of Frey riders. At their head sat Lord Theo Frey, stooped with pain. The man was again a widower, it was said. His face showed it.
How can one man have such bad luck, Kevan thought.

The Frey lord approached and descended from his horse, going to one knee. "My lord, at your request I am here. I tried to make good time."

"Rise, Lord Theo. As usual you are punctual."

Lord Theo Frey rose and tried a smile. The man had been married six times in ten years, and all his wives had died in childbirth or of accident. Only one son had survived, the lad now being 8 of age. He had a few cousins and nephews, but not many and they were not what he wanted. He wanted a castle full of children.

Theo Frey had haunted eyes. "I am glad you have not left for the Tourney yet. I hoped to ride with you."

"And so you shall, friend. I await only the arrival or replies from my other bannermen, and then we depart."

[The Sautekh Dynasty]

House Gaunt Court Yard
The Crownlands of Westeros
The Hour of the Dawning Sun

Ragnar stood in the morning sun and flexed his right arm checking to see that his armor was secure. As per usual he had risen before the sun to prepare for the day he wanted to make sure his skills were sharp for the coming tourney. Unfortunately for him however the guards and other knights of house Gaunt were no match for his skill and provided little challenge, when he fought he was described as the warrior himself striking quickly and exploiting every weakness of his opponent. Ragnar watched as his adopted brother came fourth "Why do you want to fight me? You already know your going to win...you win every time." he whined Ragnar chuckled and said "Good morning to you to brother. Now how do you intend to get better unless you spar with someone who is a challenge and while I may win every time you are the best fighter here aside from myself so put up your guard and lets start shall we?"

The two fighter circled each other Ragnar with a bastard sword and a dirk and Peter with a long sword and shield. The two circled for a few moments more before Ragnar finally saw an opening peters shield was to low. He darted in with his bastard sword leading Peter saw his mistake as soon as Ragnar began to move forward he managed to move his shield into position and blocked Ragnars blow but before he could counter attack Ragnars dirk was at his throat. Peter sighed "See you always win." once more Ragnar laughed "I don't always win. Your better with a lance than I" Peter nodded "At least I have that going for me. Maybe I will actually manage to get somewhere in the tourney though that is un likely. But I know who I am betting on in the melee." Again Ragnar laughed "I am glad you have so much confidence in me. But we should spar for a bit longer."

After another couple of hours sparing both were worn out so they decided to get a bite to eat. After sitting down and telling the servants what they wanted Ragnar said "So I was thinking we could ride out to King's Landing later today that would give us hopefully time to get god rooms or at the very least a good spot to set up our Tents" Peter picked at his food a bit took a drink from his goblet and said "Yes that sounds like a good idea I will tell father while you go to get our gear ready." Ragnar nodded and swallowed "Aye that sounds good to me I will get the servants to get our tents. It should be interesting seeing Rhaegar again I heard he was recently knighted." Peter once more nodded "I heard the same to bad we could not be there for it I am sure he would have been happy to see you."

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

The Boar and the Shrew Inn
The Crownlands

The Boar and the Shrew inn in King's Landing is a two-story timber framed building with brick on the outside, the tables and chairs are finely crafted and were made of finely polished heartwood. Accommodations consist of several large rooms with tall beds and warm woolen mattresses. The innkeeper was a woman named Lise whose father is a retired alchemist, and he keeps a small workshop in the cellar. Rhaegar came to visit the old alchemist as he cheerfully wished to trade another list of reading materials with the old sage. As usual the smallfolk gawked at the Silver Prince who seemed to take his time to enjoy his freedom in King's Landing, but his darker purpose was in no way revealed. As Rhaegar entered the cellar he looked at the old sage and immediately his voice became hard, cold. An uncharacteristically stinging lash of the tongue came immediately and to the old sage's surprise.

"Where is he? You know of whom I speak, and I will not hear idle talk about how you don't know where he is. I must speak to the Master of Whisperers right away." Rhaegar said with a grim expression. His lilac eyes were narrowed in mistrust.

"My Prince, I must say that if you wish to find him you need only ask your father. He is without fail always speaking to him in his presence and is at his beck and call." The Old Alchemist said, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight as his silver chain hung low.

"If I needed to talk to him before my father I would have done so Damien. I would have done so, but this must be something between him and me alone. I will not allow this to continue and I will do what I must to protect my father. Do you understand?" The prince said in a shrill whisper.

"Yes Rhaegar, I do. You will find him on the north-west of the Keep in a place called Flea Bottom. It is a place of whores, knaves, and murderers your grace. It is not a place you can go safely even with your King's Guard." Damien said with a low voice.

Rhaegar sighed as he massaged his temples and headed out of the cellar and sat in his corner with a look of frustration. He ordered a Roasted Partridge with Garlic and Wheat Bread and soft cheese with a glass of Mead.

He felt like his father was becoming a puppet more and more with every day with Tywin whispering into his ear on one side and the whisperer telling more and more stories to his father each day making his father balk at shadows and shudder at whispers. Each claim more exaggerated than the last.

He didn't even know where this man came from. Each day was a different story. He claimed to have been born a slave in Lys that was sold and apprenticed to a traveling folly, a troupe of mummers who worked the Free Cities, Oldtown, and occasionally King's Landing, by means of a fat little cog owned by the troupe's master. The infamous mummer whose talents reached the ears of his father across the Narrow Sea, who Rhaegar's father decided to name as Master of Whisperers.

Each new day was a new 'traitor' here and a 'schemer' there, with each new named the heads continued to roll in his father's court to the point where people were beginning to think his father had gone mad. Rhaegar, however, knew better. His father was not crazy, merely misunderstood, and his paranoia was growing because the people around him were honestly attempting to use him for their own ends. Rhaegar would not dare let such a thing happen, but he began to get the feeling that his father was no longer trusting this word as well despite his love for his father.

Rhaegar sat and ate his lunch as he tried to clear his mind for this 'discussion' with Rugen. Assuming it doesn't get out of hand. Clearly something needed to be said.

How will I manage to go into this mad place Flea bottom without being obviously discovered by Rugen or worse, by brigands or assassins who want to make a pretty penny for killing me? Rhaegar thought as he tried to ponder a disguise to enter flea bottom to talk to Rugen before he would head to the Tourney. This would take a lot of trouble as a Targaryen is rather distinct on their appearance. His big dark lilac colored eyes and his bright hair that looked like silvery platinum hammered into thin strands soft as winter snow.

Trying to hide such openly Valryian features would be incredibly difficult to say the least, but his friends in the Alchemist's guild would likely be up for the Challenge and he could naturally hide his intentions by claiming his teenage angst would demand such a distinct identity! This plan seemed to work with his intent, because it was clear he could not ask anyone to openly do so or risk tipping of Rugen or one of his many whisperers.

[Cantalvia]

Shipbreaker Bay
off the Coast of the Stormlands

The rising sun left a pearly glow over the lapping seashore of the treacherous Shipbreaker bay as the pace was slowgoing. The ship of the Wyldes was rocked gently by the tides like a mother rocking her sleeping son. The irony is that to get to Storm’s End across the sea, one would have to traverse the sharp coral reefs beneath the bay and it would have to be done with great care and slow pace.

The ship was a low small schooner made from the dark oak of the rainwoods, the figurehead of the ship was made from a paler pine that had been gilded long ago and was now peeling it depicted a crowned stag a show of loyalty to the House Baratheon, but in this spray it looked like it was drowning, smaller ships as these seemed to be the only ones that could cross the bay with any semblance of safety and even now the thick masts groaned as they bent to the harsh winds, the rigging had all been taken down and the oars were out, using the strength of men against the storm,the Wylde ship moved onwards towards Storm’s End the very seat of the Baratheons on the other side of the bay.

Helenia stayed below deck and out of the way, there were dark grumbles from the men, sailors were superstitious folk and it was well known even to Helenia that a woman was generally considered to be terrible luck indeed. The fact that the bay was prone to whip up sudden storms and rip apart boats did not seem to remove any blame from herself. She opened a small wooden box and examined its contents again, it was her mothers jewelry, pieces that had been left for her to now wear, they were mostly simple rings with small semi-precious stones, a few bangles, a few gold chains, but there was one necklace that Helenia had trouble not stroking and examining, it was a silver pendant formed into a swirling maelstrom cloud inset in the middle was a beautiful blue lapis stone that held fleck of dark greens and smaller flecks of gold, it looked like a tiny sea itself, she knew deep in her heart that it must have been her mothers favorite for who could not help but look so longingly into it.

Helenia was rocked out of her day dream as she felt the ship lurch awkwardly most likely to avoid a reef, or sudden boulder, she heard a man wretch outside of her door which was followed by a sickening splat of what was sure to be the contents of the mans stomach. She stifled a laugh Wyldes were never ill because of the sea, storms were their nursemaids it was said, she closed her wooden box and placed it back in one of her trunks hidden amongst her more plain gowns and papers and fished out the letter she was to present to House Baratheon and read it once again.

To Robert Baratheon the First of His Name, Lord and Master of Storm’s End,

I wish to, in my father’s name, beg for the comfort of your hospitality in my father’s honor as we shall ride together to King’s Landing to make our way to the King’s Tourney in Lannisport. It is my desire to humbly be in milord’s presence, a fellow Stormlander, as your faithful vassal to represent your honor as we ride to the Westerlands where you and your Knights will find victory in our name.

Lady Helenia Wylde, Daughter of the Rain House

Simple and to the point but with just enough elegance, she hoped that she would be able to charm at least one night at Storm’s End before she would have to truly begin her journey, she had not been to the seat of the Baratheons before, her father had only rarely left the Rain House since her mother’s passing, Helenia played with a tress of hair nervously, it was a habit she had always had since she was young she ran her fingers slid down down the silken hair quickly her heart was racing knowing that she would soon have to meet the Baratheons herself. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest as she felt the ship lurch to a halt against what she thought was a dock.

The two Ironborn longboats had struck silently and quickly, giving no sign of their true intentions. The thirty metre long ships, each with thirty oars dipping the water. The men of the Iron Islands had lowered sail and flag, instead relying on the strength of their backs to attack. They approached the ship on each side, and grappling hooks seized its sides, the men striking with the cry ‘We Do Not Sow!’, the words of their liege.

Helenia gasped hearing the cry, “The Greyjoys...” she looked around wildly she had nothing to bar the door, she had no weapons and had never been trained, she would have to try and speak to them, but this would most likely lead to her own death, at least that would had made her father proud, she took a deep shuddering breath and opened the door, everything was blades and screams on the deck.

The two dozen guards held their own against the corsairs, as the relatively heavily armoured Ironborn made their way on deck, with round shields and swords risen. The ironborn attacked with a savage fury, cutting down even men who screamed for mercy, relentlessly assaulting the less experienced merchant guards. Soon enough, blood was flowing on the deck, from the corpses of the guards and half-a-dozen Ironborn they had managed to do away with.

One of the Ironborn, taller than the rest and of a prouder stature, had entered the fray with two war-axes, cutting down two guards alone. Instead of the commonplace short-clip of the Ironborn, he had a flowing black beard, lapped with iron brooches. He was the evident leader, his shield having the intricate Kraken-seal of the Greyjoys. Deep blue eyes surveyed the battle-field, and the man saw Helenia, an amused smile appearing on his scarred face.

Helenia stood there her face impassive but she dared not to look down at the dead men who were scattered on the deck, she lifted her chin and spoke in a firm voice, “I am honored to bear witness to the House Greyjoy, your hospitality has not been exaggerated...I am Helenia Wylde Daughter of the Rain House” she closed her eyes as she curtsied to them daring not to set her eyes on the bloodied deck.

“Milady,” the Greyjoy said, bowing slightly, then grinned. “Greyjoy hospitality is a sight to be reckoned with, is it not?” the surrounding warriors laughed. There were perhaps forty Ironborn on the deck currently, some looting the corpses of the falled guards.

“I am Ivron Greyjoy, cousin of Lord Reaper Andrik Greyjoy and captain of ‘The Drowned Axe’ and ‘The Storm’s End’, I do apologise for the slight hiccup in your travel, milady.”

“Think nothing of it my lord..”, her face look strained as she forced herself to lock her own blue eyes on Ivrons, “as long as I reach the tourney I am sure all shall be well” a gust of wind flicked her dark tresses into her eyes for a moment she reached up and pulled them away, “though I now think it will be harder to reach shore...”

“And what tourney is that, milady?” Ivron asked, a slight grin still on his face “On the noble knights of Greyjoy is not invited to, as usual?”

“It is to be a great gathering my lord in Lannisport, I-I am to travel there under my father’s command.”, the smell of blood was beginning to get to her stomach, her pale skin seemed to grow evermore pale.

“And I take it all the lords and knights of the realm will be there, except for the honorable Greyjoys?” Ivron Greyjoy said, holstered his war-axes and scratched his beard thoughtfully. The raiders surrounding him looked on amused at the exchange “With their retinues?”

“I could not say why your House was overlooked my lord this tourney is being held by House Lannister by his majesty King’s hand.” Helenia held her head high seeing the mans amused look she would not allow herself to show any weakness, she would not bring shame the Wyldes by being called weak by the Greyjoys.

“Get the girl,” Ivron said, apparently to two of the men closest to him. “Rest of you, mop up the decks, grab anything of value. The standard treatment.”

The two men grabbed Helenia by the arms, while the rest of the men rushed down. As Helenia was taken to Ivron, his grin never seemed to disappear.

“You do your house proud, although I cannot say I have heard of it,” Ivron said, his grin disappearing “The Hand refuses to acknowledge us... and the King still wants us under his boot...”

Beneath the deck, sporadic fighting could be heard as the occasional brave cabin boy decided to pick a fight with the experienced Ironborn. It didn’t sound like it ended well.

Helenia did not resist the men as they grabbed her arms, nor did she break her gaze with Ivron, she closed her eyes as she heard the young man die for only a moment before opening them once more and locking her eyes to his, she did not rise to the comment about her house it was true that they were not the most well known outside of the Stormlands.

“Isn’t it about time you took a saltwife, captain?” the man who held Helenia’s left arm, firmly, asked.

“Is it?” Ivron said, a vague grin re-appearing “I do not think so. A rockwife is all I need.”

“There’s been... talk, captain.” the man replied “That perhaps we need a, well, new captain.”

“Is it?” Ivron asked “Then I will take a saltwife, and all will see...”

Ivron inspected Helenia, top to toe, although did nothing until the men returned. With them were Helenia’s older maids as well as some of the crew who had not fought, whimpering under the gaze of the Ironborn.

Helenia felt a queazy feeling within her stomach she said simply, “I am the heiress presumptive of the House Wylde...I am sure my father would pay my ransom.” this she was not so certain of, her father may just ignore any call for ransom and allow her to perish or become a...saltwife.

“We are ironborn,” Ivron said “We pay the iron price. If we want a ransom, we take it from your fathers’ villages and lands. Or his motte.” Ivron glanced over the implied insult, that Helenia’s father didn’t even have a castle, and continued “You will become my saltwife!”

The surrounding Ironborn cheered, and Ivron continued.

“I suppose you will want a ring?” Ivron said, and the man holding Helenia’s right hand rose it. Ivron unholstered a dagger, a sharp and clean blade. Without word, Ivron took Helenia’s wedding finger, and sliced it off.

Helenia did not scream as the pain burned through her hand, her eyes grew wide and filled with tears but she dared not to make a sound she would not give him any satisfaction in this act, her mind screamed in pain and anger her pride burned a hole into her heart, this was unforgiveable, this was an act that would haunt her forever, she did not look away from Ivron, her pale face began to get a slight green tinge to it, her older maids cried out in sorrow but she threw a scorn filled glance to them and silenced them before looking back to him, eyes filled with rage as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Bandage it,” he ordered one of his men, who promptly complied, stopping the bleeding with a match, then put on a crude and filthy bandage. But the Ironborn wasn’t finished.

“Consummate the marriage!” a man shouted, to general amusement by the laughing raiders.

“I will, lads!” Ivron shouted, grabbed Helenia and kissed her, his beard, salted by the sea and poor food, attacking her senses. After a few seconds, he broke the grip and took a step back, the two surrounding men holding her tightly.

Helenia smiled then but it was a cold smile followed by her licking her lips, “Be mindful husband for I have a wedding speech...sail off in your ships, return to your islands..for a storm is coming for you Ivron Greyjoy, pray to your drowned god that I am not the one riding with it...”

Ivron Greyjoy smiled at the threat, and turned to his men:
“What a wife!” the men laughed, and Ivron turned to Helenia “I’m afraid I have no room for you, dear. I am afraid I will leave you to still be your father’s for now...” Ivron picked up Helenias bloody finger, and showed it to her “But we are wed under the eyes of the Drowned God, dear...” he put the finger on the deck again “You may keep my ring, for now.”

Ivron once more turned to his amused men, and said “We have no more room for slaves! Bind them! Empty the ship of valuables, but leave them enough food to get to Storm’s End!”

The men complied, and soon enough the longships sailed away with everything of value, leaving behind the remaining crew and Ivron’s saltwife. Before departing, Ivron blew a kiss to the bound Helenia.

Once the Greyjoys had been gone for a while she was untied, the men mumbled weak apologies for failing to protect her but she heard none of it, her mind was screaming with rage, “Take me to Storm’s End...I have a tourney to attend.”

[House Lannister of the Westlands]

The City of Lannisport
The Westerlands

A light fog blanketed the City of Lannisport surrounded by walls along the coast of the Sunset Sea where the River Road, the Gold Road, and the Sea Road meet. Just to the west Casterly Rock loomed like a watchtower guardian over the great city, making sure that none would have the audacity to rebel. Lannisport, like a large part of the Westerlands, consists of hills and mountains. The Westerlands extended east into the the hills of the Westerlands, between the Golden Tooth and Pinkmaiden, south up to the Goldroad, bordering on the Reach, west to the Sunset Sea, and north up to the Ironman's Bay.

Lannisport was one of the major ports of the Seven Kingdoms and the largest city in the Westerlands. Compared to other cities, Lannisport was smaller than King's Landing or Oldtown, but is in turn much larger than Gulltown or White Harbor. House Lannister anchored its fleet in the harbor. The city was renowned for its goldwork and had gilded designs of beauty throughout. Lannisport was policed by the City Watch, known to be very well-trained, compared to that of King's Landing or Oldtown. The city was home to House Lannister of Lannisport and distant kin to the Lannisters like Houses Lannys, Lannetts, Lantells, and other lesser Lannisters. Lann the Clever was a legendary trickster from the Age of Heroes who tricked Casterly Rock's previous occupants, House Casterly, into yielding the castle to him, and his descendants had been Kings until the Targaryen conquest almost 300 years ago. The Westerlands were once known as the Kingdom of the Rock, now ruled by Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West.

Tywin Lannister stood by a window overlooking Lannisport as he drank a bit of light whiskey. A ruthless man, Tywin in his youth was forced to watch his mighty House nearly brought to ruin through his father's actions. His father while a gentle and kind man, was weak and eager to please everyone which meant that loans went unpaid and his bannermen did what they pleased. He caught bannermen mocking him in their cups or openly defying him. Tywin knew what power meant and when his father tried to quell Lord Tarbeck, his most disloyal bannermen by having him imprisoned, Lady Tarbeck responded by capturing three Lannisters and threatened to harm them if her husband was not returned. Tywin counseled his father to send Lord Tarbeck back to his Lady in three pieces, but Tytos was a gentler man than that, and he caved in to Lady Tarbecks demands further weakening the position of their House. When Tywin became lord of Casterly Rock they expected for Tywin to be equally as much as a pushover as his father was. This was the biggest mistake they could ever make. Tywin to rectify the situation and restore his family honor and fortune took it upon himself to put down his two most unruly houses House Tarbeck and House Reyne for their defiance. They sang songs of his brutal destruction of the House Reyne in the tales.

And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.

He killed them all, every single one of them and destroyed their entire line. Men, women, and children from the highest lord to the lowest servant drowned in their own blood as Tywin Lannister stood over the Lord of Castamere with his blade in hand.

"The Lannisters desire power, but they are always subject." the defeated lord said right before he was gutted like a fish and Tywin hacked his head off violently and placed it upon the parapet of the ruined stone castles as a warning to all who rebelled. The horror was so absolute that all it took to keep the lords in line was for someone to send a lute player to sing the song of The Rains of Castamere. No one ever forgot of the destruction of the houses, and Tywin made sure of that by leaving the bloodstained castles in place. He ordered that none would ever clear them, and the ruins ruins would be left intact. Whenever he had a doubt of someone’s loyalty he invited them for tea, in the ruins of Castamere among the decaying bones of the dead.

"What sort of discussion would you like to have?" He would ask as he smirked at their horror knowing well that a defiant word would cost someone their tongue.

With the bloodstained blade Tywin carried a reputation of being calculating and intelligent. As a proven battle commander and politician Tywin had a very powerful presence combined with an unflinching gaze that can make lesser men swiftly turn away. When he was made Hand of the King almost 15 years ago he took no time to waste taking as much effort as he could to make sure the Lannisters were still wealthy prestigious and strong as a House. The House was strong and able with his adored son Jaime as his heir and his precious daughter Cersei who he loved dearly and intended to marry to the Targaryen brat. Tywin Lannister dedicated his whole life and all his efforts into maintaining the Lannisters' prestige, ensuring House Lannister was respected or at least feared. Like all other Lannisters, he had the yellow hair that was said to have originated when Lann the Clever tricked the sun into gracing its light into the Lannisters' hair. His eyes were cold and cruel with an icy blue gaze. He knew exactly what he wanted for his House, and for his honor.

Tywin prepared for the Tourney to be held as a premise to gather even more power and favor on his house’s behalf. As Hand of the King, Tywin quickly became known as the brains of the operation in the Small Council. The situation became so immediately apparent that Tywin became almost the only ruler of the Seven Kingdoms on his merit alone. Once Cersei married the Targaryen Prince, there would even be Royalty in his blood. His daughter would be Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and even would become the Queen. Everything was going according to plan and Tywin was ready to see House Lannister become the true heart of the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin prepared for the entrants and the nobles who were all preparing to head on their way to the city where all of the Seven Kingdoms would be able to bear witness to House Lannister’s glory. It mattered not that the Targaryen brat intended to compete, he was always the bookish type and did not often sign up for the many Tourneys that were held in the Realms, so naturally he must be weak. The only things he had heard of Rhaegar was that he would often go stare at the ruins of Summerhall and would sing songs to make the ladies cry. A girlish boy without the martial force and prowess that even the weakest of Lannisters would boast.

Hmph... Rhaegar Targaryen, at least he will be suitable for my precious Cersei. he thought as he heard a soft creak of the door. It was the Imp.

"Ugh, what do you want, Tyrion?" He asked as the tiny twisted ugly thing looked from the other side of the door. He was the one who took Tywin’s beloved wife Joanna away from him. The disgusting beast that practically killed his own mother by being born twisting her insides just like he did to his own body.

“Father? Could I perhaps go out and play with Jaime?” Tyrion asked quietly as he tried to stay out of his father’s sight.

“Go. Do not bother me.” Tywin said as he tossed King Aerys’s letter aside.

[The Sautekh Dynasty]

The River Gate in King’s Landing

The smell of the rushing river is overwhelming as Ragnar approaches the gate near the center of the southeast wall followed by his brother Peter. It is called the river gate and it connects the Fishmonger's Square and the wharfs on the Blackwater Rush. The people there of course do not call it the River gate, but they call it the Muddy Gate for the smell and dank feeling near the area. The smell of old fish is strong enough to make a man with a weak stomach gag. The dripping smell of old dank mold overwhelms the senses as they passed under the gate.

Peter wrinkled his nose and said “The smell of this damned place never changes.” without looking back Ragnar said “Quit complaining, the faster we get through here the more quickly we can find a place to stay. Hopefully we can find an Inn that isn’t filled up yet and find a bite to eat.”
I wonder where Rhaegar is today i should really see him and congratulate him on his knighthood Ragnar thought as he rode through the crowded streets.

The smallfolk funneled into the River Gate and into the City of King’s Landing, the smell of old fish and mud became the smell of filth and garbage as the way to King’s Landing did seem to be where the unwashed masses did their day-to-day work. The vendors and salespeople shouted and tried to hawk their wares to the travelers who passed their way and immediately a woman attempted to approach the Knight and his brother.

“Can I interest you in my wares?” She asked as she held out a woolen knit sweater as she held it to him. “The cold has been getting more and more bitter these days, it would benefit milord.”

Ragnar looked at the woman from atop his destrier and thought Hmm she looks as they she could really use the coin but i have no use for that garb...Bah i will give it to one of the servants. he thought as he cleared his throat and spoke “Yes I don’t see why not how much do you want for it?” he asked.

“Perhaps two crowns for it?” She said with a warm smile. “Feel the texture milord! It’s of fine quality!” she practically bounced as she saw that he was expressing interest and beyond the line of sight he spotted what looked like a knight with a bright crimson surcoat and the Targaryen three headed dragon. His hair shone in the sunlight and looked like silver threads as it blustered in the winds. It was clearly Ser Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone.

The Silver Prince walked north to the pathway as he seemed to be rather out of his element. The woman hawker continued to try and encourage Ragnar and Peter to feel the woolen cloth as she was excited that someone would even consider buying her wares.

Ragnar thought for a moment and finally said “Yes that sounds fine.” and then a splash of crimson in the crowd caught his eye he briefly turned to his brother and said “Peter pay this woman I have someone to meet!” He spurred his horse toward Rhaegar meanwhile Peter sat dumbfounded and thought In the name of the seven where is he off to now? He tossed the woman two crowns took the woolen sweater and continued on his way. The crowd of people continued to move like herds of sheep around Snow who was tense as the people came rather close and pushed around the narrow pass. Rhaegar seemed to be heading toward the wider area of the City Square as he seemed to be heading toward the Alchemist’s Guild, but Ragnar didn’t know why he would see the need to go there, but Ser Rhaegar was known for his odd love of knowledge and books, so perhaps this was another reading list he was acquiring.

Ragnar continued keeping track out Rhaegar as he moved through the crowd but the smallfolk all around were making it extraordinarily difficult to make much progress. So he finally just decided to shout his name and see if he noticed “Ser Rhaegar Targaryen is that you!?” he shouted while continuing to fight the crowd. It would be far easier once he reach the square but he didn’t want to lose track of Rhaegar.

Rhaegar heard his name shouted across the crowd but looked around and couldn’t see what was being said as he couldn’t quite see where it was coming from. He entered a small shop as he got out of the crowded mess and took a deep breath and the smell of herbs and oils made Rhaegar’s head stop hurting from the disgusting smells of King’s Landing. The hot sun also was relentlessly pounding upon him and his surcoat was beginning to become heavy from the sweat of all those people squished together.

Ragnar watched as Rhaegar walked into the shop a sighed he continued to ride toward the shop. It took a little while but he finally arrived he looked around the front of the shop a swore there was no place to tie his horse. Lucky a young boy came walking past he said “Boy if you hold my horse while I go into the shop I will pay you a crown.” Ragnar opened the door as he entered the shop.

As he opened the door he could feel the overwhelming smell of herbs and scented oils as Rhaegar seemed to be purchasing a small bottle of oil and he looked over his shoulder and his expression immediately changed. His Lilac colored eyes widened and seemed to be lit up with a small hint of happiness which for Rhaegar the glum Targaryen Knight this was rather significant.

“Ser Ragnar, it’s wonderful to see you! It has been quite a long time!” Rhaegar chuckled as he immediately gave Ragnar a hug as Brothers of the Blades, Comrades at arms and friends since the tender childhood years. Rhaegar was surprised to see him in the oil shop but then it clicked that when he heard his named being called, clearly it was the case that it was Ragnar Gaunt who was calling. “What that you, out there on the path?”

Ragnar returned his friends embrace and said “You are a hard man to catch, my friend. Aye it was me who called your name though I thought you had not noticed since you continued along your way!” he chuckled “It has been too long indeed how is your father? And moreover how are you?”

“I am... pfft...well. uhm..” He seemed to sigh as his entire expression said more than words could really convey. His tone seemed uncertain, his voice was wavering and his eyebrows furrowed and he groaned and slumped for a moment before regaining his composure. “Things have gotten... complicated in King’s Landing. Complicated in the Crownlands as well. Surely you’ve heard of the dark rumors of House Darklyn, yes?”

Ragnar was confused “No I have heard nothing of House Darklyn but I do not believe this is the right place to discuss this. Plus I don’t want that little wretch to get bored and leave my horse standing outside unattended.”

“Oh bigods, you didn’t!” Rhaegar laughed as he realized that Ragnar actually left his horse out there with an urchin boy and quickly rushed out to make sure his horse didn’t get stolen. To their dismay the horse was gone as was the boy who seemed to be walking the horse over toward the grassy knoll ahead which of course the boy could not control as he struggled helplessly against the strength of a powerful warhorse.

“Help!” The Urchin boy shouted and was dragged like a ragdoll as he tried to hold onto the beautiful white stallion. Rhaegar laughed and rushed toward Snow as he carefully dodged people trying to maneuver through them.

At first Ragnar was furious thinking that the boy had stolen his horse but then he heard the boys cries and saw Snow dragging the boy toward the grass he laughed and followed Rhaegar. Unfortunately for the smallfolk in front of him he was not nearly as agile as the unarmored Rhaegar. He managed to dodge a few but failed to miss an elderly gentleman who was too slow to get out of his way. He tripped with the old man and they landed in a heap.

Rhaegar quickly tried to get to Snow as he turned back and saw that Ragnar had fallen down and he let out a small gasp in surprise and looked back to the screaming Urchin boy.

“By the seven hells...” He growled as he rushed toward Snow and pounced his reins and quickly he resisted for Rhaegar was not his rider. “Whoa! Easy boy, easy... be at ease.” he shouted with a firm voice as he seemed to calm down and Rhaegar helped the poor boy up. “Are you alright?” He said warmly as his eyes darted back to Ragnar.

Ragnar struggled back to his feet and help the poor old man back to his feet apologising. The old man was shocked but for the most part appeared to be okay Ragnar apologised once more and handed him a crown before turning and running toward Snow and Rhaegar.

“I got him!” Rhaegar called as he looked back at Ragnar panting and out of breath. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he pat the horse warmly.

Ragnar finally reach the two and sigh “Well this is just like when we were young again raising hell all throughout the city.” He turned to the boy and handed him five crowns “I think you deserve the extra for all that. Are you alright lad?”

The boy looked up at the two knights and the massive warhorse and it clicked. They were obviously knights.

“Thank you Sers. I am just fine.” The little boy said as Rhaegar pat him on the head.

“Now off you go then, don’t want you getting into more trouble.” Rhaegar laughed as he turned to Ragnar doubling over with laughter until his sides hurt. “What in the seven hells was that all about Ragnar? Surely you didn’t think that a small child can stop the strong will of a warhorse!”

Ragnar glared at Rhaegar for a moment and laughed “If you would have stopped I wouldn’t have had to go into that damned shop leaving snow with our new friend.” Meanwhile snow was lazily eating the grass that he had worked so hard to get to. While the boy stood a few feet away watching the two knights and the giant horse “Boy do you want to ride Snow? He already took you for one ride why not do it properly this time?”

“Can I really?” The boy smiled and it was finally visible that the boy had lost one of his teeth in the struggle, but thankfully it seemed like one of his baby teeth. The boy seemed incredibly excited at the prospect and practically bounced as Ragnar helped the boy mount his horse. “WOoooow! It’s so high up!” He shouted excitedly.

Ragnar smiled as he watched the boy “How old are you boy?”

“I am reaching my eighth year, ser!” The boy said happily as Rhaegar slowly guided Snow and the boy cling on for dear life, not used to riding any sort of horse.

Ragnar thought for a moment I am in need of a squire and this boy looks like he could be a fine warrior and a good knight one day. Ragnar cleared his throat and said “How would you like to be my page? I would train you and eventually you would become a knight like myself and Ser Rhaegar.”

“Indeed, you did already tame your first warhorse before I even raised a sword! You are certainly a strong boy. What’s your name?” Rhaegar asked as he helped the boy down.

“Whoa! Uff..” the boy said as he climbed down from the horse. “I’m Leon, sir. My father is a potter. I do not know if he will be able to afford my going into knighthood.” He said with a glum look, and he immediately became embarrassed and tried to wipe off the mud from himself and to his surprise the Prince of Dragonstone helped flick off the mud and he motioned for Ragnar to give him the opportunity.

Ragnar smiled and said to the boy “I would speak with your father and you need not worry about the cost I will cover it myself. You are brave and strong you deserve more than what you have here.”

“Really?” Leon said enthusiastically. “Wooow, you’d do that for me? Thank you, Ser. What is your name if it is not too bold to ask?”

“I am Ser Ragnar Gaunt of house Gaunt. I am a Knight of the Crownlands.” Ragnar said smiling “Now take us to your father you can ride Snow we will walk.”

“Where is your home, Young Page, Leon?” Rhaegar asked as he looked curiously at the boy.

“My home is on Flea Bottom sers, I am afraid my parents will be very surprised.” Leon said with a nervous tone of voice.

“Your first lesson as a knight, is that it is a Knight’s duty to be brave and bold, and to do what is right.” Rhaegar said warmly and then whispered, “but here’s another secret. It is much less scary when you are not alone. We will be there with you, and you’ll have nothing to fear. You have my word as a Knight.”

Rhaegar was curious to see how dangerous flea bottom was, and given that Rugen hid among there it would likely be dangerous for him to go without his King’s Guard. He was not certain however and gave a look to Ragnar and waved for him to come closer.

Ragnar saw Rhaegar wave and walked closer and leaned in “What is the problem my prince?” he whispered.

“It is not a risky venture to go there without an accompaniment, do you think?” Rhaegar said in a hushed tone. “I have heard terrible things about the area. It could be rather dangerous, not only because I am who I am, but also for your page...”

“Do you remember how we first met? You were being beaten by a group of other children and then I stepped in besting three before they ran off. I have only become a better fighter since then, I can handle any who would dare threaten my prince or my page. Of this you have my word on my honor as a knight.” he whispered.

“I do remember that.” Rhaegar gave a wistful smile as his eyes returned to their melancholic gaze. “We’ve come a long way from black eyes and skinned knees. Alright, so long as we are cautious. We do not wish to go looking for trouble.” He barely uttered as he walked over to the stables where he left his pitch black stallion whose ruby red reins stood out and immediately Rhaegar pat him and held the reins firmly as he mounted his stallion and helped the young page onto his horse. He called his horse “Fade” and he was a very strong stallion with a powerful will.

“Hold on tightly to the reins, like this.” Rhaegar said as he grasped them tightly and held Leon’s hands onto the reins. “You pull this way if you want to lead him in this direction and then you pull this way to go in the other. Lead him, guide him, and do not be afraid. Be confident, you are his guide and master.”

Rhaegar gave a small kick and they rode across the knolls toward the hill nearby where there was the path into the main crowded area of the city once more.

“Now, you let go and dismount. One leg after the other.” He helped Leon. “Good! Just like that.”

Ragnar watched the two and said “You were always the better teacher Rhaegar. Me I am the fighter of the two of us.”Ragnar then addressed Leon ”As long as he is around he will teach you books and things of that nature I will teach you to fight care for your equipment and Horse. Once we leave King’s Landing you will learn that which Rhaegar was teaching you from House Gaunts maester.”

As they slowly approached the city edge they came across another set of stables and Rhaegar tied fade onto the post and pat him and the horse nuzzled him waiting for another pat.

“Alright, don’t be spoiled.” He said happily as he pat the horse again and helped the page clear off the remnants of the mud. “Can you lead us to your home?” Rhaegar asked with a friendly tone, but his expression was once again almost sad as he looked at the city.

“Surely I can, sers.” The boy said as he led them into the tightly wound city streets. The streets felt like a maze as they wove in through alleyway and alleyway. Rotting garbage could be seen strewn on the streets and left a putrid stench as the smallfolk scurried about like rats. The boy seemed to know where he was going and didn’t seem to notice all the things that the Prince of Dragonstone did notice. Filth, poverty, sickness, and death was all around him. There was many things throughout the narrow streets but the most dizzy part was as they stood before the potter’s home. “This is it.” the boy said as he pointed at a small hovel in the corner.

Ragnar was shocked at the level of crushing poverty that plagued the city he was sickened by it. he thought to himself King’s Landing is supposed to be the crown jewel of the land and this is what it has turned into? I really must speak with Rhaegar about this, If his father is unaware then he must be informed at once. Ragnar smiled at his young page “Alright Leon I will speak to your father I want you to get ready to leave. Say goodbye to your mother and if you have siblings, them as well, you are about to begin a new and better life.”

“Aye sers.” Leon said as the potter emerged from his hovel confused and apparently drunk.

“Can I help...” His eyes followed the Knight’s weapons the surcoats and then behind Ragnar was the silver prince, heir apparent to the Seven Kingdoms. “Wait, Holy...by the Seven. Minerva GET IN HERE QUICK! GET the NICE cups...” He yelled.

“WHAT IS IT ‘ENRY?” She shouted with a dry and shrill voice. “I ‘ope it’s not another one of your damn...Oooh.” She looked at the Knight and quickly bowed as she saw the Prince and saw her boy behind them.

Bless my soul... what did he do? The poor woman thought as she looked at her husband who quickly realized something was terribly wrong, or something was terribly unusual.

“Oh you have honored us with your presence sers, I apologize for our... humble accommodations. Can I perhaps offer you a drink? Some bread perhaps?” She said as she quickly noted her son behind them. “Oh I do hope that our little scamp didn’t cause any trouble sers!”

Ragnar shook his head “No thank you Ma’am I am Ser Ragnar Gaunt first of his name Knight in Service of the Seven, but I would speak to your husband about your son. I am in need a a squire and am willing to train your son and pay for his knighthood if you would allow me to take him. He proved to not only be brave but strong when I asked him to watch my horse he actually managed to control him rather well for his age and size.”

The woman quickly tried to groom herself as her Husband looked at the Knight and bowed. “You are most kind Ser, he is my only boy and to be given this opportunity is just beyond all of our hopes and expectations. You are most honorable and noble to take on such a burden. Please my Liege, if there is anything we can do to help... I’ll give you this! It’s not quite done but it’s... I still have to paint it.” He said as he gave Ser Ragnar a large clay Ale Tankard which was not finished with the glaze work.

Ragnar accepted the mug “Thank you, I am more than happy to take your son on. I also have something for you to help since I am taking your son.” Ragnar reached into his coin purse and pulled forth a gold stag coin “Take this it will help you and your wife.”

Minerva quickly hugged her boy sobbing as she kissed him happy beyond words and almost inconsolable. Rhaegar gently pat her and lifted her up as her boy tried to help her. It was likely to be one of the last times he would see her son ever again, if what she thought was happening was what was happening. She hugged him fiercely and then quickly bowed to the Prince of Dragonstone and kissed the hand of Ragnar.

“I will never forget the kindness you have shown my family.” She looked at her son proudly. ”My boy, go and be strong for your Mummy, be a good page and serve the Seven and think of your father and me on your travels.”

Leon’s father looked at the Coin in his hand and his face paled and quickly he practically fainted on the spot. He had not seen so much money in almost all his life. The fact that he would be able to hold it at all was still rather a shock. Somehow he felt like he was in a strange dream. He pinched himself to see if it was actually real. He was not dreaming.

Ragnar chuckled and put his hand on Leons shoulder “Now Leon gather up your things you want to bring and we will be off I still need to find where my brother finally decided to stay.”

The boy grabbed a small stuffed toy, its face was unrecognizable and it was hard to tell if it was supposed to be a doll or a bear, but its half moth eaten face seemed to indicate it had one at one time. He followed Rhaegar and Ragner as Rhaegar instinctively scanned the area as they made their way back to the stables.

So this is what flea bottom looks like... it is rather dangerous alone, and I won’t likely be able to come here secretly. I stand out like a sore thumb. Rhaegar thought as he looked around the corner and spotted fade as he looked toward Ragnar.

“I shall return to the Red Keep, we will head to Lannisport soon. I would like to have a drink with you before we leave.” Rhaegar said with a smile. “Tell your brother I send by blessings.”

Ragnar nodded and said “Rhaegar I must talk to you. the conditions these people are living in are deplorable how can your father let this happen to the city? This is supposed to represent all of the realm get it is filled with rot and decay. Please I beg you speak with you father about this, this has to change for we can not save all these people ourselves like we did Leon. But I will tell Peter you said hello and we will have that drink but for now would you like me to accompany you to the Keep?”

“Unfortunately, I must have the displeasure of having to meet with my father to discuss... something important, please Ser Ragnar, do enjoy the city. I will be willing to share a drink with the both of you when I get back.” Rhaegar said with an almost unsure look. “Take care Leon, Page of the House of Gaunt.”

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

The Red Keep
The Crownlands

Rhaegar entered the Red Keep with the strange feeling of foreboding making him be able to feel his heart thud quickly in his chest. He didn't know why, but as he entered it became apparent that he had entered the den of the snake pit. The eunuch stood beside his father; plump, completely bald and effeminate. He was wearing fine silk the color of a lime brighter than gold, and soft slippers that allowed him to walk without making any sound. On the other side of his father was the Master of Justice and Maester Pycelle who seemed to both be delighted by Rhaegar's presence, but this delight seemed to only make Rhaegar even more uncomfortable. The King sat in the middle of them all with his silver hair tied back and wearing Maegor's crown the jeweled rubies gleaming like blood frozen in time.

"Ah, my boy, come to your father! We have much to discuss." King Aerys said as his face lit up with happiness at his presence. "I hear you shall stand for my honor in the Grand Tourney in Lannisport? This fills me with joy and happiness that the flesh of my loins shall stand for me even in the most tender of years. Tell me Rhaegar, you wished to speak with me?"

"Yes, father. I wish to speak with you." He said as his eyes instinctively met Rugen's and narrowed. He felt a lump in his throat as he had trouble swallowing and his mouth felt dry. "I have spent time in King's Landing today, and in my exploration of the city I have seen much suffering of the smallfolk and the lesser nobles who seemed to be struggling with 'finance troubles'. Tell me father, is there something that is going on with the Seven Kingdoms that we are having more trouble than usual with our budget?"

The King frowned and looked at the young man which made it almost feel like his blood was freezing in his veins. The cool look that made Rhaegar take a half step back instinctively. Rugen seemed to enjoy it as he basked in the presence of the Master of Justice and Justicar of the realm. He, of course was in charge of overseeing executions in the name of the King and also to ensure that the King's Justice was absolute. Rhaegar quickly bowed to his father to assert that his question was out of loving concern, and not a question of his father's abilities to rule.

"I have raised my Kingdom from the madness at Summerhall and I have continued to allow it to prosper for many years without having the slightest question of whether or not there was some sort of doubt for my commitment to the smallfolk. Tell me, Rhaegar, when did you think that this commitment would wane?" The sound of his name stung into his nerves and Rhaegar slightly recoiled as he looked ahead trying to keep his eyes from averting from the King's view.

"My father, you are King of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. No one would dare question any of your commitments to your duties and responsibilities and nor am I doing so, on my honor as a Knight." Rhaegar said cautiously. "I am speaking of a gap, a strong distinction between our people here in King's Landing and the Lands of the Tyrells in the Reach and also the Lands of the Westerlands. The Lannisters are-"

"Ah, I see what this is about. My boy, Tywin Lannister has been my liege for almost fifteen years now. He has almost been Hand of the King as long as you have been alive. He is a loyal subject and a good friend of mine. There is nothing you need to worry about my boy, he is devoted to me and he will do as I command no matter what it should be. Loyalty is something I do not think Tywin is lacking in any way." Aerys said with a frown.

"So it would be no trouble then if we were to raise the taxes in the Reach and also in the Westerlands to generate more wealth and prosperity here in the Crownlands? Do you think that Tywin Lannister would in any way allow for such a thing to happen? My father there are those who say that Tywin Lannister is the one who is ruling while you are naught but a figurehead to be bent to his will." Rhaegar reminded his father of the words of a Lannister bannerman which of course made the King boil with rage.

"And we remember what happened when such words were said? I did not hesitate to cut out the fool's tongue with my own blade. None would dare make this sort of suggestion ever again, least of all before their King!" Aerys said with hesitation for he didn't expect that it would be said anyhow in front of him the first time and the shock of the Lannister's words made him mistrust the words of Tywin when he said 'what foolishness is he that would say such a thing, this is clearly false Your Grace'. A likely story.

Aerys approached his son whose eyes closed and he knelt upon the ground before his father. To his surprise Aerys caressed his cheek paternally, and had him rise to his feet, the smooth and comforting sound of his voice rolling quietly off his tone.

"If you feel as strongly as you do Rhaegar, I will see what we are able to do in order to ensure that our people in King's Landing will receive more beneficial opportunities and I will indeed speak with the Master of Coins in my Small Council to arrange for a tax increase in the Reach and the Westerlands and for a decrease in taxes upon the Crownlands, the Dorne, and the Riverlands. I shall leave the the North, the Vale, the Iron Islands, and the Stormlands with their current tax rate. Am I not a Merciful and Just father?"

"My father I pledge is the most merciful King of the Seven Kingdoms." Rhaegar said almost without any tone as he looked at Pycelle who seemed to be frowning at him, for reasons he didn't quite fully understand.

"You see, my subjects? My son is truly a lad who loves the smallfolk, he came to me with fullest commitment and even spoke with the regal honor befitting his station. He will one day be an excellent king. Let us raise a glass in honor of the Prince of Dragonstone, may my boy soar to new heights." King Aerys said as he raised his wine goblet and the others raised their goblets of wine as well. With a loud Urrah! They drank their wine with Rhaegar merely nursing the goblet and he took his leave. Immediately he knew that the whole situation would erupt in a massive uproar and he regretted having spoken to his father with a sick feeling rising in his chest.

By the Gods, I try to argue on a sense of justice and now I will have likely raised the enmity in the realm. This is not at all what I wanted to accomplish! Rhaegar sighed in frustration as the afternoon sun began to lower in the sky. His heart was still racing as he realized that one wrong word would have meant he would have been in worlds of trouble and not even his mother would be able to tame the King's mighty wrath should something go wrong before him.

Rhaegar walked to the stables and he saw his beautiful black stallion and the stallion immediately nuzzled Rhaegar as he was released. Rhaegar took the comforting motion as a warm understanding that was held within the heart of the rider and his horse.

"That's my boy." He crooned as he looked around him, the setting sun becoming more and more apparent. Soon they would travel to the Westerlands and he would have to stand his ground before the Lannisters and their rightfully very angry knights. He wouldn't falter as he would still fight with all his might to joust with his full heart and would stand his ground against those he felt were threatening his father's right of rulership.

As he mounted his horse he quickly looked around him and rushed to the Inn where he would rest the night to reserve the royal suite away from the Red Keep, as he felt like the cavernous hall, full of whispers would swallow him up and make him grow more and more paranoid as he stayed there. He told his father he wished to stay in the inn for different reasons of course, one of them being that he wished for a quiet place to read by the barrow so he could see his horse, and another would be so that he would not have to worry about having to hustle back and forth on his way to Lannisport. It would be a quick run out toward the gate and he would be free to meet up with the Baratheons and head to the Westerlands with a very strong entourage.

The feeling of ease he also felt among the smallfolk and nobles who frequented there also lifted his spirits a bit as he felt that the Red Keep was, at the moment, almost like a den of mad dogs threatening to tear each other apart. Rhaegar vowed secretly to himself that when he was to become king, he would clean house and rid all of the schemers and those he could not fully trust. Though then as he thought about it in his heart, the feeling that lingered there was:

That is what your father is trying to do.

This thought made him nervous as he realized that all the blood and sickness that had been shed was all an attempt to keep the Red Keep from becoming the snakepit that it truly was, but it seemed to be a fruitless effort, because all of those drawn to the Iron Throne were those whose ambition suited it. Those who came closest to it would become more and more seduced by it, and those who reached it would have to repel those who craved it.

Would I be able to do such a thing when I am King? Rhaegar thought as he tried to imagine what it must be like for his father. The more he pondered the more the sinking feeling arose that he was not entirely sure he wanted it at all. He had remembered the King of Fireflies who had given up his crown for the lovely Jenny of Oldstones and he suddenly wondered if, when Duncan died in the horrible flames in Summerhall, he had never wanted to be King in the first place? Was not that he wanted to seek his true love who was far beneath his station but rather was that only a small part of why Duncan refused to be King?

His thoughts made him weary as he suddenly got the feeling rising in his heart to return to Summerhall once more and visit the ruins and to figure it all out for himself, but each time he did that somehow he felt more and more of his willpower being sucked away and his feeling of desperation became greater. The crown he felt was a terrible burden to bear, and the price you paid for bearing the weight is measured in loneliness and isolation. With it comes the ability to influence, create, change, and even destroy things, places, and people. It is by nature highly contentious: Some want it and would kill for it. Rhaegar did not want it, and would gladly give away such a burden because for all its force, blessings, or ability to change, power is not free...with it comes immense responsibility, consequence, or cost. Power is in no way "fair" nor does it come with honor.

Those with ambition wind up betraying everyone and everything he ever valued, until they have nothing left in their life but their obsession. They will inevitably wind up bitter and alone, pondering everything they've lost, just before losing the thing they obsessed over trying to gain. That power was not only something Rhaegar felt was objectionable but also strangely evil. Trying to climb the social ladder tends to knock everyone else down a rung, while people realize all too late that it's not what they wanted after all. Maybe there were other things that were more important like friends,family,love... He felt such things were more important, because inevitably getting any kind of social or economic mobility will always come at the price of losing what you already have.

He lamented for a moment what his father had lost, and realized that with all his pride came hubris, and he was believing that he was invincible almost believing himself a living God; unbeatable and completely unable to be defied. This would never be Rhaegar's delusion as he realized the only way to be able to ensure this power would not corrupt him would be to turn it around. He was not the one who was being served as King. He would be the one who serves his subjects. Only then, with the understanding that he would not be able to have the joys that other people take for granted in friendship, love, and family would he have the right to take the Iron Throne. He was not sure if he would ever be ready for it, but in his heart he hoped that he would be able to do what had to be done.

As he entered the Inn he sat down and took his harp out and with a heartbreaking tune he began to play, and with his iron tone he began to sing a rousing song.

Like sand in the wind a whispering song,
In his heart he does nowhere belong,
Wearing away like a stone in the rain,
Nor could a soul living understand his pain.

Change of the seasons from summer to fall,
The sad winter snows are making their call,
The end of an age begins with an earnest plea,
From Highest of Mountains to the Depth of the Sea.

May all those remember this song forever this day,

Powerful and the meek,
The Strong and the Weak,

Fame and Shame,
Praise and Blame,
Pleasure and Pain,
Loss and gain,

None of these will ever stay.

Change is the only sovereign who none can defy,
Watch unquestioning
The time passes you by.

As the Silver Prince sang, his iron tones like the tolling of the bells in the Great Sept of Baelor the tenants were moved and their hearts swayed with the song in resounding silence. The Prince took a breath and in silence he continued to play in silence. His mind was clearly one that was preoccupied as the time passed as a testament to his song's hypnotizing power. The setting sun moved across the sky as the bitter coldness of the wind blew out his candle which he used to read in the corner, the wax melting deeply and he took his exhaustion as a sign that he would need to retire soon, but realized that many eyes were watching him.

[Cantalvia]

By the southern corner of the Southwest wall, connecting the western end of the River Row to the tourney grounds is the King’s Gate which still had the smell of the Blackwater Rush. The Guardtowers stood tall as a testament to the King’s Power and it was heavily guarded as the Baratheons negotiated their way into the gate past the steel portcullis, heavy iron and wooden doors and armed guards. As they entered the City they were led by an armed accompaniment of King’s Guards who would of course ensure that the smallfolk did not bother the Baratheons or their charges in the area. It was tradition that those who visited would go pay homage to the King as they visited, so they went through the fishmonger’s square which carried the stench of old fish and then passed northward to the hook and was led on horseback to the Red Keep which stood tall on Aegon’s hill, an imposing figure that seemed to be watching as they all passed.

Helenia covered her nose with a rose oil scented hanky as they passed the fish markets in the wheel house, the Baratheons had been kind when she reached Storm’s End but they spoke little to her, she felt as if she may be ever more an outcast, the news of what passed was not taken well by her father she heard but somehow Lord Robert had calmed him and with the help of his advisors was beginning to see Helenia’s position in a new light.

Helenia lowered the piece of silk and stuffed it away up her sleeve and then looked at her hand, she had taken to wearing a black glove most times when she was in company, her new finger seemed to make everyone else ill at ease, she settled back listening to the sounds of King’s Landing she knew that they were soon to stop and she would have to meet with more noble men, her face soured at the idea.

As they entered the red keep the smell of dust was overwhelmed by rust and there seemed to be old armor in the hallway decorating the way to the Great Hall where the Iron Throne stood with the King Aerys Second of his name presiding over his subjects. No one was allowed to be seated as he was presiding except his family and small council and all others were to either stand or kneel in the presence of the King. Robert Baratheon exchanged a few words and it seemed that there was an odd sense of calm as the King seemed to be pleased with a gift from the Stormlands. The Prince was remarkably absent, and Robert was allowed to leave with his company and many of his knights went to the Tourney area where they trained for their upcoming trials.

Helenia curtsied as Lord Robert swept away with his men, leaving her in the presence of the King and his family by herself she moved forward and went to her knees, lowering her head as she had been taught many times before, “Your Majesty, I am unworthy of being before you and your family, I am Helenia, daughter of Lord Harvol Wylde of the Rain House” her dark blue and green gown was pooled around her as she supplicated herself to Aerys presence.

“You speak with such refined and proper decorum. I do hope you enjoy your stay in King’s Landing and recommend that you enjoy the sights of the Crownlands before our trip to the Riverlands and the Westerlands.” The King said with a warm and proud smile.


Helenia stood slowly but kept her head bowed to him, “I look forward to seeing the beauty of the Crownlands your Grace, and I thank you for allowing me to join your party on the journey, I shall take my leave if it pleases you your Grace”

“Indeed, good day Lady Wylde.” The King said with a raised eyebrow.

As Helenia walked out of the Great Hall she could see the view of King’s Landing high on Aegon’s Hill. It was a lovely view and she could see the noble Knights Jousting in the Tourney grounds. The smallfolk were bustling back and forth as they continued to herd through the area conducting their day to day activities.

She moved along the broad streets and looked at the wares in the market, the spices and foods from all over the realm excited her, she tasted fruits from places that she had never heard of before, she rested on the ledge of of large fountain on the shady side letting the spray from the water fall on her pale skin, she was not accustomed to such fine weather, she delighted in it but also found herself growing easily tired as the heat beat down on her from above.

A Knight went to the well as he rode on a black horse with shining armor studded with beautiful rubies inlaid into it. The shape of a three headed dragon glimmering like frozen drops of fine wine upon the side. His red surcoat bearing a reminder of his faithfulness to the Royal House Targaryen. He walked rather nimbly on his feet despite the heavy weight of his armor bearing down upon him in the hot sun. The feeling of heat making him feel like he was in an oven. He went to the well and pumped out the cool water into a bucket and poured it over himself and took off his helmet as he refilled the bucket and poured it over his silvery hair which was dripping with sweat. and then he flopped on the floor with exhaustion, covered in mud.

“Bloody...ugh well I’m going to have to bathe before we leave anyway. Uff...” He said aloud to himself, not realizing he was being watched. He closed his eyes and lie on the ground as he tried to catch his breath as Fade ate the grass around him happily.

“One would think that that is a good idea indeed”, Helenia couldn’t help but smile as she spied the man laying on the ground, the way she was sitting she hadn’t seen the sigil on his chest yet, “It must be awfully hot to wear such heavy armor on a day like this.” Helenia ran her uncovered in the cool water and sighed.

“You have no idea, and it’s also massively heavy.” He said with a cheerful laugh. “I have not seen you in the lands... wait... WHOA!” He got to his feet immediately slipping on the mud and quickly knelt and placed his hand over his heart covered in mud. “Where are my manners? I apologize. I am Ser Rhaegar. I welcome you to my humble lands, Miss... what is your name?”

Helenia smiled and stood before making a careful curtsy to the knight, “Helenia, daughter of Lord Harvol Wylde of the Rain House, I am pleased to meet such a valiant knight of the Crownlands” she lowered her head to him politely.

“I am hardly valliant Miss, a few words and I am blubbering like a buffoon.” Rhaegar said with a slight blush as he wiped the mud off his hand and then took her gloved hand and kissed it. “I hope that I can be a decent host for the time you have come to spend with us however short. I also intend to participate in the Tourney, so very likely I shall come with you on the way to Lannisport.”

Helenia blushed as Rhaegar kissed her hand, “Oh, yes the tourney I am travelling with his Majesty, which house are you championing Ser Rhaegar? or are you a free knight?”

“Naturally I am Championing his Majesty’s honor. I will of course be jousting in the name of the Targaryens, and the Crownlands as any noble patriot would.” He said carefully. Naturally he did not look very much like the prince caked in mud and soaking wet. His red surcoat was however obviously emblazoned with the three headed dragon and the studded armor seemed to indicate this wasn’t a hedge knight or a free knight, but was certainly an anointed Knight.

She looked over him carefully and her eye caught the sight of the three headed dragon her eyes grew wide, “Oh by the Seven...what a fool I’ve been...I should have seen that you are a knight in the service of his majesty, I apologize for my error.”

“Oh, no apologies are necessary Miss, I would... invite you with me to drink at the nearby pub, but I fear I’m quite a ghastly sight. I shall meet you here then after I have had a chance to make myself look less like a ghastly Greyjoy and then return. Will you be here?” Rhaegar asked with a curious look.

Helenia’s face turned dark for a moment, “Ah, Ser Rhaegar, you do not look like a Greyjoy in the least...I shall wait for you here, I have no where else to go” she smiled kindly at him but moved her gloved hand behind her back.

“I’ll clear up, and be right back immediately.” He said as he tied Fade to the stable. “You’ll be good company won’t you boy?” He spoke affectionately to his great black stallion. “Come here Miss Wylde.”

Helenia moved over to the large black stallion and smiled, “He is a handsome beast” she ran her ungloved hand down the horse’s nose slowly, “what is his name?”

“I call him Fade, and he’s quite a gentleman, aren’t you boy?” He said with a tender pat. The horse snorted and Rhaegar laughed. “He likes you well enough.” And Rhaegar was indeed right as the horse loved to be pat and nuzzled against Helenia’s hand.

“Fade”, she said the name softly and leaned down nuzzled him back for a moment, she let her hand run gently over the stallion’s strong neck, “I have never seen a horse so fine, my land is a rocky and harsh one, so the horses are just as gnarled and mean”

“Ah a pity, that. Let us hope that Fade can be good company while I change. I will be back.” Rhaegar said quickly as he rushed to clean up and bathe in a local inn. He used the Rose and Sandalwood oil to clear away the smell of mud after having gotten the entire mess off him and then picked up his armor and packed it in the tavern he was staying in as he took another clean surcoat. He had Lissy wash his muddied surcoat and Squire Faren to clear and polish his armor as he returned to where the maiden was left behind, now his shining silver hair gleaming and clean as he tried to regain his composure.

“Much better Ser Rhaegar you look simply dashing”, Helenia grinned at him as she slowly moved away from Fade giving him a few gentle pats goodbye, “is this pub far? I have never been to a pub before” she wiped some few bits of straw off of her gown and brushed her long dark braid back over her shoulder.

“Join me then, and we shall have good drinks and merrymaking. If you have never been to a pub, I dare say you have not quite lived!” Rhaegar said with a welcoming look. His eyes were deep lilac colored purple and had almost a look that was perpetually serious and sad, but his smile seemed to be an attempt to mask that. He led her to the Timber and Brick building with a sign that had words on it and also a picture of a pint on it. Clearly it was some sort of bar. As he opened the door there was music and performers who were having a jolly jig in the corner as Rhaegar seemed to get much attention.

“My you seem to be well known here is this one of your favorite haunts?”, Helenia smiled watching the patrons dance and drink back at the Rain House it would have been unthinkable for her to be doing such a thing, her father would have never allowed to to go anywhere near a place such as this, but it seemed so warm and friendly to her, it made her own sad blue eyes light up somewhat.

“You could say that.” He said with a slight chuckle as he was immediately swamped with drinks.

“SER RHAEGAR HAS COME, GLORIOUS!” A rather drunk knight said with a happy look. “Are you going to sing again today?”

“Ah, well I’m actually with company, you see. This is the Daughter of Lord Wylde of the Stormlands. I am... Oof.” he was passed a tankard for Helenia which he offered to her with a gentle hand.

“A taste, if you’d like. It’s rather nice...” He said as the foamy ale seemed cool and delicious. It had the aftertaste of apples. “Ah, you got me the new stuff?”

“Aye Ser Rhaegar, also for the lady friend.” The bartender said as he looked at Helenia. “Try it milady it will not fail to please!”

Helenia looked at the tankard in front of her, she had only ever had beer at breakfast and it was none too strong, she lifted it and glanced at the men and women who were now staring at her, she took a long gulp of the stuff closing her eyes as she felt the bite of the alcohol in the back of her throat it was much smoother than she thought it would be and when she set the beer down and smiled kindly up at the bartender, “My compliments, sir it is refreshing”

The people cheered and raised their tankards as Rhaegar laughed and headed toward the entertainers and motioned for Helenia to come. He clapped his hands and the jig continued as the people danced in the center. Some more drunk than others as they managed to have a jolly time.

“Come Miss Wylde shall we perhaps have a dance?” He asked as he reached his hand out.

Helenia was hesitant but she pulled together some courage and said, “I-I’m afraid I’ve never been taught to dance like this but I am willing to try!” Helenia reached out with her gloved hand and took Rhaegar’s, her heart raced with excitement she had never had so much fun before, Rain House was always such a dreary place perched on the cliffs surrounded by storms, here was exciting, EVERYTHING was exciting the smells the colours Helenia adored it. Rhaegar led as he took Helenia step by step and taught her to turn and twirl as he helped and nudged her with every move.

“You are doing rather well for someone who has not ever danced.” He said with a smile as he led her to the side and gave her another drink. “Don’t drink it too quickly, you’ll become drunk.”

Rhaegar sat down and took a moment to lie back and pulled out a book, and began to read as Helenia’s hand was taken by another lad and she was led into another jig.

Helenia was enjoying the dance until the man snatched her glove off, “NO!” she screamed and grabbed at the glove, the young man laughed until he saw her hand, he dropped her glove and backed away, she bent and scooped up her glove and moved quickly until she was outside.

Rhaegar noticed as he looked up, the music continued as the man she was dancing with look dumbstruck as he seemed to be taken by another lass and was lost in the dance. Rhaegar quickly walked outside as he looked for Helenia.

“Miss Wylde? Miss Wylde, where are you?” He called as he looked around through the smallfolk.

She had not gone far from the pub she was sitting on a low wall trying hard to pull the glove back on as quickly as she could, her anger and embarrassment was making the task clumsy at best, her face had grown hard and red, with traces of tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Ah, there you are. Are you quite alright?” Rhaegar asked concernedly as he stood beside her and reached to help her to her feet.

“Y-yes I am quite alright, just became over excited is all” , her bare hand was still clutching at her gloved hand nervously, pulling it tight down the fingers as if trying to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally slip off and to the ground.

“Ahm well I can understand that, I am not often putting the nobles in such a position, but you seemed to be low in spirits so I figured you could use proper spirits I should say. He said with a serious look on his face. That said, I do not know if I should continue to be distracted as much as I have, and I suppose I too could use to lifting of the Spirits so to speak.” Rhaegar looked at Helenia and tried to read what was the matter but it seemed to be something she did not want to tell him.

Helenia sighed and looked up at him, “I’m sorry for my reaction Ser Rhaegar...you have been kind to me, far kinder than most people I have known for years...” she closed her eyes and pulled off the glove revealing her metal wedding finger to him.

“What happened?” He asked as he looked at her finger and gently touched it as he looked at her heartbroken expression. “What demon would harm a highborn lady that he would cut off your finger so?” Rhaegar gasped with a shocked and angered expression.

Helenia smiled scornfully , “Ivron Greyjoy...” she looked away from Rhaegar for a moment, “I have done an unkindness to you Ser Rhaegar...for my last name is no longer Wylde it is now Greyjoy...” she let out a strangled laugh, “though he has never consummated the marriage, thank the Seven.”

“Don’t be silly, such an act of knavery will be repaid in blood. That the Greyjoys have gone as far as Shipbreaker bay tells me that those disgusting Corsairs have extended past their disgusting bilge infested isles, and I damn well will make sure they pay for their indignities in the name of the King Aerys II Targaryen King of the Seven Realms, I will make sure this monster pays for what he has done. Sworn on my honor as a Knight and as the Prince of Dragonstone and by my life I will make sure as King that no Greyjoy will ever leave their blighted isle again.”

“Prince...”, Helenia’s eyes flicked up into his the redness in her face melted away into that of pale fear, “Oh, by the Seven...” she slide her glove on quickly, “please your highness I beg you to tell no one of my shame...”

“Do not fear, it takes no telling of your condition for me to demand the head of the Greyjoys, and I certainly will have it done.” Rhaegar said with a reassuring glance. “Helenia, you are not guilty of such things. It is my duty to protect innocent people like yourself. I will do my duty.”

‘Here is the trouble your highness, my father has accepted the marriage...House Wylde is a small house and I am the heiress to my father’s shame, though he would not have chosen the Greyjoys, he hopes to now send word to them of what happened...I fear I shall be spirited away to their islands” Helenia smiled sadly at him, “perhaps I could be held in ransom if my father ever makes the announcement public though I know the Greyjoys would only be too glad to let me die if that were to happen.”

“No such thing, this was a failure of our navy to protect the realms. I will send word to the Master of Ships and I will inform him of the situation, and you are not obligated to do any such thing. The Marriage... was it consummated? Did he take your maidenhead?”

Helenia shook her head and smiled, “ Not much of a Greyjoy was he...no he took my finger and he took a kiss from me that is all, I still remain a pure maiden” she pulled her braid over her shoulder and began to play with the end of it nervously.

“I shall remember his ‘mercy’ when he begs for it from me.” Rhaegar said with a reassuring pat and he sighed as he helped Helenia to a proper inn where she would be able to rest and relax.

He then imagined for a moment that Ragnar would laugh and say Anyone beg from you HA! Perhaps if it was my sword at his throat and you speaking! but oh how times have changed. Rhaegar had learned to stand on his own two feet and he yet he still had that feeling that he’d much more love getting lost in books than getting into a full melee. He helped Helenia get more comfortable by paying her bill for the night and then walked out as he thought to himself that the day would not likely be something he would want to be uneventful. They would have to soon make their way to Riverrun and head to the Westerlands.

[The Sautekh Dynasty]

The Blue Ceiling Inn

The cool clean inn in the shadows of Aegon’s hill was comforting and smelled like sweet incense and warm perfumed oils. The bed was warm and made of wool and the Eponymous blue ceiling seemed to reflect the polished floor. The open window let in the strange mist that seemed to rise from the squalor of the city. The brick building seemed to stand as a testament to Rhaegar’s choice in an ideal dwelling in that it was quiet and it was out of the way of the massive pit of politicking that he was used to. The whispers of people rolling in privately gave it a warm welcoming feeling as warm cinnamon baked goods were warm in the oven. Rhaegar had let Ragnar know to meet him there in the late night for a drink with him and Peter before they would set out from King’s Landing to Riverrun.

Ragnar rode up to the inn's stable with Peter and dismounted Peter did likewise and said “So this is where Rhaegar said you meet him?” He asked. Ragnar nodded and said “Indeed this is the place I believe.” He walked to the front and entered into the Inn followed by Peter.

Rhaegar sat in the corner reading an Asshai text as he looked up and spotted Ragnar and quickly put the book in his satchel. He broke into a smile as he embraced Ragnar and his brother Peter.

“I see you are still getting a lot more walking than you’re used to back at home, I imagine. Where’s little Leon the page?”

Ragnar smiled and took a seat across from Rhaegar and responded “A tavern is no place for small boys I taught him some basics of swordplay and left him to practise. He is practising with one of my household guard.” Peter also took his seat and said “ Good to see you again Rhaegar.”

“How uncharacteristically responsible of you!” Rhaegar said with a playful nudge and with a smile he gave a tankard of ale to Ragnar and a half pint to Peter. “I’m surprised at you, I didn’t think you’d actually take a page or squire at all unless it would be to carry your things, of course.”

Peter laughed and said “Yes that sound like my brother indeed” meanwhile Ragnar glared at them both “Believe it or not I do care for the people. I wanted to give the boy a chance to make a better life than what he was destined to.” He took a drink of the ale and continued “You both have seen him you should be able to see the potential in that one he is destined for great things I can tell just by looking at him.”

“Well this is also true, you’ve not been a bad judge of character as long as I’ve known you, but I’m also curious as to how much you’re willing to commit to actually teaching the boy. I know you’ve also had your eye on Jaime Lannister for a squire, but it’s hard to say that things will go well if you take the Lannister boy on, and as for me, bigods I certainly won’t likely have a chance taking him on as a squire, not that I don’t see the potential in him. My father has been, well... mistrusting of Tywin’s intentions as of late.” Rhaegar said with a grim look at his friend as he drank more. This would be his fourth full tankard of ale and at this point Rhaegar would wake up with a hammering hangover.

Ragnar nodded “The Lannister boy shows promise as a fighter but he lacks a lot to be desired as a Knight. He is just like his father cruel and uncaring. A knight should be willing to sacrifice himself for the innocent I have a hard time believing he would ever even consider such an action.” Ragnar cleared his throat and took another drink of ale “Now that we were on the subject of the blasted Lannisters I was wondering if you would allow us the honor of accompanying you and your father to the tourney.”

“Surely friend if you would honor me, as well as your oath. I haven’t forgotten.” Rhaegar said with a smirk. “You said you’d protect me like the old days, and so you will.”

Ragnar nodded “I did indeed swear an oath my Prince and I shall honor it to the death.” Peter was confused “Eh what are you two on about now?” By this time he had down three tankards of ale.

“Well yer brotha decided he was goin’ ta protect me and the likesh!” Rhaegar said slurring his words slightly.

Peter nodded “Yesh that shounds about right.” Ragnar laughed at the two “You two really can’t handle your ale can you?” At this point the Inn was beginning to clear out a little with those with jobs clearing out for the night.

“Nope, ah can handle it. I merely forgot how many ah had.” Rhaegar said as he leaned his head on the table and began to snore quietly.

Ragnar sighed turned slightly to Peter “do you think you can make it back to the Inn alright?” Peter nodded “Yesh I think ah can at that!” he said and wandered off out the door to his horse. Ragnar then turned to Rhaegar and pushed him a little “Come along my prince we must get you back to the red keep wouldn’t want anyone to send the Guards out looking for you.”

“No, that’s alright...” He said groggily inbetween snores as he took a moment and snored again. “Hey... stop that!” He said as he was prodded.

“What?” He finally asked as he woke up. “Uugh, I said I’ll be up in a sec. I will not rest in the Red Keep for the night. In fact fade is by the God’s Gate. We ride at dawn to head to Riverrun.”

Ragnar thought for a moment and said “Well I can’t very well break my oath by not coming with you. But first we must at least get you to a proper place to stay the night. Sleeping on a table is not very wise for a prince. Not good for appearances and what have you.” Ragnar stood and walked over to the Inn keeper and asked “Have you any spare rooms sir?” The man was middle age with greying hair. He looked at Ragnar and said “For you Ser I believe we can find one.” Ragnar shook his head I will not be doing much sleeping but your prince requires a room for the night.” The Inn keep nodded and said “The room is upstairs last door on the right. And for the Prince it is free.” he said smiling. Ragnar then walked back over to Rhaegar and took him by one arm lifting him from his chair “Come along my prince it is time for you to get some sleep.”

Rhaegar groggily walked to his room and fell asleep immediately on his bed. He did not wake until the early morning before the sun rose and he quickly gathered his things put on his armor and gathered his things and as he opened the window he spotted Ragnar who looked as sharp as ever and had stood watch over his charge all night. Rhaegar’s head was throbbing and he felt nauseated and immediately massaged his temples and looked at the poor Knight who seemed exhausted and Rhaegar half smiled behind his pain and pat him.

“Oi, you’re sleeping on our way there, no excuses, the King’s Guard shall ride with us. I will be alright.” Rhaegar said warmly as he offered to help Ragnar out with his things. “We must pick up Peter, Leon, and I will get Miss Wylde.”

Ragnar nodded and yawned “It will be as you command my Prince. I couldn’t leave you here unguarded while I left and slept now could I?” Ragnar followed Rhaegar out and got on Snow with practised ease “I will meet you at the gate with Peter and Leon.”

“Aye, so shall it be done.” Rhaegar said as he mounted fade in full armor and rushed to the inn where he left good Miss Helenia Wylde and they gathered to ride forth to Riverrun where they would meet the Tullys and Martells heading together to the Westerlands where in Lannisport they would participate in the Great Tourney. Rhaegar smiled as he spotted his friend behind him and they headed out the Gate of the Gods and headed west.

[Europe - Prussia]

Private Quarters of the Lord of Sunspear
Sunspear, Seat of House Martell, Princes of Dorne and Lords of Sunspear
Hour of the Dawning Sun

The sun was peeking through the shappire waves of the Summer Sea, rousing the people of Sunspear from their dreams, or at least most of them; there were some that remained awake the entire night, like the guard posted on the famous three walls of Sunspear, and then there were those that awoke before the sun's rise, or when it's rays were barely trickling the sky. Such was the case of one Nymeros Martell, Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear, who awoke very early to attend his duties and finish them as soon as possible.

The reason? the upcoming Tourney in the city of Lannisport.

Like any lord of high caliber of Westeros, Nymeros would rode (or in this case sail) to Lannisport with a contingent of the best of his anointed knights and bannermen in order to prove Dorne's power to the rest of Westeros. Although he wouldn't participate in the Tourney for the simple reasons that 1) his built wasn't made for a tourney (though that wouldn't stop him from participating in any melee or archery contest) and 2) he wasn't interested, there was plenty of people in Dorne who wished to prove their mettle against the knights of the others houses, like his uncle Oberyn, but that wasn't surprising at all.

No, the real reason he was going to Lannisport was to play the famously Game of Thrones. Although he was the Prince of Dorne, he wasn't married yet, which supposed a danger because there was no heir in case something happened to him, thus leaving his Lordship to his uncle Doran, something that he wishes to avoid at all costs. So he would use this tourney to seek a possible spouse and maybe forge an alliance. His aunt Elia was also a possibility too. Hmmm, decisions, decisions......

Letting out a sigh, the Dornish lord turned his gaze towards a letter that was resting atop a small stack of papers, a letter that was bearing the crest of House Targaryen.

The Targaryens ...... they where on a whole new level of problems. Even though Nymeros is half-Targaryen, he's not very fond of the current holders of the Iron Throne. In his opinion, they have caused more trouble than it's worth, and eventually, they will bring their own end. The theory that the continuous inbreeding among brother and sister could have caused the madness (or sheer stupidity) of various Targaryen kings is another situation altogether, but with names like Baelor I, Aegon IV, and probably Aeris II in the near future, are giving a lot of support to this theory, a theory that the young Prince of Dorne supports wholeheartedly, but he never gives his support publicly; after all the walls have ears.....

Then there were the Lannisters; hideous monsters using lion skin whose only desire is power for the sake of holding it. Those were more dangerous than the Targaryens, specially now that Tywin Lannister was practically a king without a crown. It was obvious that the Lord of the West would use this Tourney to consolidate his power, probably by proposing a marriage between his daugther Cersei and Prince Rhaegar. Something he had to ensure it never, ever, happens.

Deftly, Nymeros took the letter and quickly scanned it's contents with his gaze, only to put it once again above the stack of papers. It was a message from Prince Rhaegar, basically informing them about the Tourney in Lannisport. Their plan was sail from Sunspear, make a small stop in Starfall and then travel by sea all the way to Lannisport. It might be not the safest route, considering the Greyjoys and other pirates in the area, but it was the fastest one, with not to mention that they would travel heavily armed.

Letting out another sigh, Nymeros placed the document he was reading in another stack of papers, waiting for Maester myles to take them. Seeing that his work was done the Prince then stood up, walked to a open cabinet which was holding his bow, a quiver of arrows and his sword Dusk. Taking the sword, the Prince closed the cabinet, turned around and left his private quarters. He needed to oversee the preparations for their travel after all.

[Trade and Magic]

Riverlands
Sylven the Heir

Sylven had a craving for crab. It had been 2 days since they left for Riverrun and having left with nothing but bread and apples, Sylven wanted some steamed crab.
Still he and Sir Tius aka Sir Tius the Savior had fun on the road, never really leaving his home Sylven Keath was excited to have the wilderness open to him, in spite of the infamous outlaws of the Riverlands.

Tell me Sylven, started Sir Tius when we do meet the prince, what are you going to talk to him about?

Sylven stopped to think. He never actually thought of that, what would he ask the prince, what would the prince ask of him?
I am seeking knowledge sir, and it is known that the prince is well read.Well so am I, and great things happen after great minds meet. he responded. However he supposed that Aerys would rather have Rhaegar mingle with the Great Houses. Still tagging along with Lord Kevan might just give Sylven the opportunity he sought.


So Tius, what are going to do when we get to Lannisport?" he asked the knight.
Well m'lord, I will be participating in the joust and melee
How ?
Simple, ride, dismount and fight

He could have expected that, Sir Tius meant to prove his worth to the highborn knights, which is practically all of them. But Sylven had been saved by Tius and had watched him train. If he didn't win the tourney, he would definitely get to the finals. Still, Lannisport is going to have to wait until we join Lord Tully at Riverrun.
So the journey to Riverrun was short, and once at the Keep, they where stopped by Benethon Tully.

Halt Keath, how do you explain your presence in Riverrun ?
Drop the act Ben, so, are you still sore from the crushing defeat I gave you at cyvasse?
Ah good to see you Syl, and no, it wasn't a "crushing defeat" it was a tie
Sure it was by the way, you going to Lannisport?
How can I resist?, with all the great knights and all the greater generals attending.
Maybe we can have another go at that "tie" on the way
Of course, now I assume you came to see my father?
I am here to answer for House Keath
Well don't let me stop you, go on I will see you later

Sylven and Tius entered the triangular Keep of Riverrun, and knelt before Kevan Tully. We are here for House Keath they said in unison.

[Hobbiest Republic]

In the small holding of the Hofstadt family whose township was Holmbrooke. It was a humble holding of small means. Their primary lifeline was a small gold mine that produced nearly 1000 Crowns per year on a good year. They were mostly self sufficient farming a sparse living with bread and wool.

Lirst was in his Hall when the raven came in from Lannisport with the news of a tourney. They were too small to make it on the formal list, but the Hofstadts had paid one of the residents of Lannisport to send word when there were happenings and goings on so that they could at the very least appear at major events and compete.

" Ready the horses, we're going to attend the tourney!" Lirst announced to his steward.

" Sir, but... the coffers are already suffering from repairs to Holmbrooke, would it be wise to go on a lengthy journey so soon afterwards?" The steward asked.

" We will not spend frivolously I will take 14 men with me and we will live thriftily." Lirst declared taking up his cloak and striding for he stables.

15 men rode out from Holmbrooke towards the Tourney their saddlebags heavy for the journey. Their horses were not impressive nor was their clothing, five of the men traveling were armed with more than daggers or knives, Lirst rode with a longsword and a kite shield on his back. His ring mail glistened dully in the daylight, the others behind him rode sturdy mountain horses and had simple war hammers attached to their saddles with small bucklers. They neither hurried or progressed slowly but rode in orderly columns three wide.

[The Greyjoys of Pyke (Ancient)]

Lordsport, Island of Pyke, the Iron Islands

Dawn

Two dozen hung from the harbour, their necks snapped, waving gently in the wind. Eighteen men and four women, all Septons or Septas, stripped naked, beaten and hung on the orders of the Lord Reaper, who stood in front of the gathered petty nobility, corsairs, fishermen, dockworkers, Drowned Men and other Ironborn of Pyke. Andrik Greyjoy, their liege lord, had proven himself for a decade at sea, standing tall and proud in front of the corpses. Andrik was a large man, nearly two metres tall, broad and strong... brutal in appearance and way. His face scarred and beaten by a decade of raids, and he wore the grey coat of the Ironborn, adorned with a necklace and rings. Every man and woman gathered knew Andrik had paid the Iron Price for his baubles.

The weathered Lordsport, one of the largest towns of the Iron Islands, was still small by the standards of, say, King's Landing or Lannisport. Still, thousands of people had gathered in the harbour to bear witness to Lord Reaper Andrik Greyjoy's proclamation.

"Ironborn!" he shouted, his hard voice carrying to all in the harbour. "There was a day when the mainlanders quaked in fear at the thought of an Ironborn raid! There was a day when the Iron Islands were prosperous! A time when the great ports of Pyke, Great Wyk, Old Wyk, Harlaw, Saltcliffe, Blacktyde and Orkmont were the envy of King's Landing, Lannisport, Storm's End and all manner of soft cities!"

"But what has become of us, Ironborn?" Andrik continued, the young Lord Reaper pacing up and down through the hanged followers of the Seven "What has become of us? We have grown lazy. Fat. Soft. Some of us," he said, pointing at the hanged clergy "Have even abandoned the Drowned God! Have abandoned our ways! These traitors would have us become puppets of the Andals and Valyrians! To abandon the ways of our forefathers! They dress in gaudy and extravagant clothing, without paying the Iron Price!"

The gathered Ironborn were shouting now, many in agreement, and some dissenters.

"They have betrayed our ways, and I will not tolerate such treason!" Andrik shouted now, passionate, and pointing further into the town "The Sept is burning!"

The crowd turned, and now saw that Andrik's men had, in fact, torched the Sept. Some Followers of the Seven rushed towards them, trying to cleanse the flames, but were cut down by Andrik's corsairs.

"The Sept is burning!" Andrik continued, to approval from many but to boos from others "All who Follow the Mainlanders' faith will convert or die! The Drowned God is the only God of the Ironborn! Today, Ironborn, we will take what is ours! No longer shall we heed the laws and commands of a mad monarch in King's Landing! No longer will we tolerate the Sept spitting on our ways! No longer will we grow weak and poor sitting on these rocks, but pillage, rape and slaughter our way through the coasts of Westeros! Ironborn, I pledge that the Iron Islands will! Be! Free!"

Castle Pyke, Island of Pyke, the Iron Islands

Evening

Andrik sat by the fireplace, having just consumed a spartan meal of fish and potatoes, and shared wine with the Maester of Castle Pyke, a forty year old man by the name of Benor Pyke, a bastard son of House Botley the rulers of Lordsport. The Maester was an agreeable man to Andrik, although inexperienced in the ways of reaving and plunder. Still, the Maester was an Ironborn, and did not object to following traditions.

"It seems," Benor said as he sat down, drinking of the glass as they had taken to do when Benor discussed the day's letters and daily running of the castle with Andrik. Andrik was more used to running a ship than a castle, so he let Benor do most of the administrative matters, just paying attention that Benor didn't make too much of the treasury vanish on various expenditures.

"That your cousin has taken a saltwife."

"Which one?" Andrik replied, putting down the wine. "And how do you know?"

"Ivron," Benor said, and Andrik spat. He despised his cousin and his soft ways. Ivron wasn't a true Ironborn, Andrik thought. "He has taken Helenia of House Wylde as his saltwife. However, he seems to have been content with cutting off his bride's finger and kissing her..."

"Typical," Andrik said, disdainfully. Ivron couldn't even finish the job.

"Then sending her off to her merry way." Benor continued "Her father,

"House Wylde have requested us to... recognise the 'marriage' as legitimate." Benor said "And not as a saltwife, I bet."

Andrik looked into the fire, thoughtful. On the one hand, forcing his cousin to recognise the marriage between him and this mainlander whore would be a fitting insult to the pretentious prick, not to mention he'd be a laughing stock around the Iron Islands. On the other hand, making a mainlander an Ironborn's rockwife...

Andrik pondered the question. He hated Ivron, with his foreign ideals. He had spent too long out of the Iron Islands, trying his hand as a trader and had returned with... un-Ironborn ideals. He had no saltwives, and he forbid his men from raping their conquest, yet he still always had a decent crew for his two ships despite this great limitation. Not to mention that Ivron was a threat. He had spoke out against the purging of the Iron Islands of the Faith of the Seven, and Andrik suspected that Ivron might even have converted...

"Who are the Wyldes?" Andrik asked while he thought.

"Vassals of the Baratheons." Beron replied "A minor house. Ivron's 'wife' is the only child of the current leader of that house, however."

"Send an answer, Benor." Andrik replied "Tell him that House Greyjoy accepts this... what do they call it? Mingling? Ah, you know. Whatever it is, House Greyjoy is of course willing to accept the matrimony between Ivron Greyjoy and... whatever the whore is named. Tell them that we would be overjoyed to see her in Pyke. And while you are at it, summon Ivron."

Andrik rose, still looking into the fire. A thought crossed his mind.

"He has a rockwife, doesn't he?" he mused. Benor nodded. Andrik clapped, and his former first mate, Yngvor, who had been promoted to Captain of the Guard following Andrik's recent succession to the throne appeared. He was a lanky, cruel man, thirty years of age, and utterly loyal to Andrik.

"Captain Yngvor..." Andrik said, looking into the fire. Benor had by now left to tend to his ravens. "I say that Vactarie Greyjoy, the Rockwife of Ivron Greyjoy, is a follower of the Seven. Have her hanged for her grievous treason."

Yngvor bowed, and left Andrik alone in the room. He sat down, and smiled. Take that, Ivron.

[House Fyrault]

Just off the track from Aunios - Keir Fyrault

Keir walked slowly through the trees, glancing around at the beauty of nature as some quiet birdsong filled the air. A few meters to his left was the winding track through the forest, he had been following it for a few hours now and knew from experience that he was just going to come across a lengthy straight section. He, like most of House Fyrault walked to the side of the road - this meant that they could nearly always spot travelers first and take any actions necessary. Back at Aunios they would have probably just discovered his absence, but he doubted they'd send people after him. As he wondered he quietly hummed a tune his mother used to play for him, casting his eyes around at the shadows and always keeping an ear open. It was because of this that he heard the people ahead of him, off the track. Keir quietly moved further from the track and behind them - moving silently through the trees yet bearing no ill will. By the side of the road, behind some trees and bushes, crouched three men wearing some light armour and carrying some weaponry. He stood behind a tree listening for a few seconds and what he hear quickly backed up his suspicions:

"Boss man says they'll be coming along in a bit, right. Get ready to grab the horses reins and drag the riders down. They'll be easy pickings then."

The young nobleman quietly dropped his pack down and drew his bow from his shoulder, taking an arrow down too before standing behind the tree without moving. Minutes passed and he heard the sound of hooves on the road at a walking pace, then ten seconds later the bandit who had spoken before alerted his friends to the incoming. Moments later a trio of people approached along the road. Their clothes were finer than would normally be worn by people in the area and they moved with a purpose. Keir supposed they were messengers from House Stark travelling to meet with his Father for some dreary feudal purpose...

Suddenly, as they neared the ambush area, a cross-bow bolt shot out from the other tree-line and embedded itself in one of the men's chests, sending him tumbling back off his horse - dead. Simultaneously the three men ran out from the tree-line, with one of them silently slumping as soon as he tried to get up, lying face first with an arrow embedded in his spine. The other two, failing to notice the turn of events ran out and - as the messengers sped up to escape - grabbed the reins of one and pulled him to a halt and yanked the other off the horse and onto the road. As this happened another two people ran out from the other side of the road, one discarding a cross-bow to draw out an axe and the other carrying a long sword. The man who grabbed the horse's reins was cut down by the rider with a swift and skilled swipe across the face and chest before dragging the rider down to the floor as he fell. Keir rushed forwards, stopping at the road-side and watching as the bandit stepepd up from where a bloody and deceased messenger lay. He quickly chambered another arrow before shooting the criminal through the neck. Next he dropped the bow and drew his short-sword, rushing to the defense of the man who was just now trying to pull himself to his feet. Keir grabbed the upraised arm of the axe-man before he could strike and shoved him backwards, following with a swipe across the throat with the sword. The swordsman just side-stepped the dying scum before he staggered back and brought his blade up in defense of his head. Keir swung to the right side of his head, and then from contact brought it around to the left side and back and back and back. Each time the bandit blocked a strike, Keir swung again as swiftly as possible. As usual it only took seconds before his enemy lay dead on thr ground - one mistake for Keir meant to try again, one mistake for him meant death.

Keir checked the corpses of the men as the messenger stood and caught his breath - despite his aptitude or luck when dealing with the bandit it was clear that he was not accustomed to fighting. Keir finally picked up his bow and wandered over to the other survivor, they locked eyes for a moment and stood in silence for a second or two before the stranger spoke: "Well, friend, I must say I have you to thank for saving my life. If you had not happened upon us at that moment then I do not dare think of the outcome that could've become true..."

"No, please - don't thank me. You are in the lands of House Fyrault and you deserved our protection. But, I am intrigued: who are you that would travel our roads at this time? It is not the usual time for a message to arrive for my lord..."

The Messenger smiled and turned to his horse - "I am a messenger from House Targaryen. I come bearing news of a tourney that is to be held in the Westerlands. The King has invited noble warriors and women to attend and I was on the way to House Fyrault with my compatriots - we had not expected banditry here."

Keir smiled, "No, few do. We haven't seen bandits in a while, I was slightly surprised to see them, or else they would have been dead before you got here - may you have my apologies for that. You say you go to House Fyrault? I am Keir Fyrault, son of Lord Kade. You will not find anyone willing to take you up on that there, may I see it?"

"Why of course, sir." The messenger went into his pack and drew out a scroll. As Keir quickly skimmed through it, the other went and dragged his friends to one of the horses where he tied them across its back. "I will take my friends on to Aunios, they deserve a decent burial and I can't give them that here." He said as he tied the two horses together and mounted one. "These are strange circumstances, sir, so should you wish to take this offer of a tourney up then feel free to take the horse of my friend. So long as you explain the occurrence to those back in the Westerlands there will be no problem. Now, I bid you good bye."

With that, the messenger cantered off down the road, his sword in his hand and eyes no longer laxly gazing around lazily. A few minutes later there was naught left on the road but corpses - the sound of receding horses apparent from both directions...

I hope this is okay...

[Imeriata]

The Reach, Highgarden

The first thing that Garth noticed as he realised that he was awake was the sound of music both from harps, fiddles and pipes but also from birds that greeted the morning from the large castle garden outside the window that gave his summer room an excellent view in the summer and turned into a freezing hellhole when winter decided to finally visit.

It was with a heavy heart he threw the thick blanket off himself and with a bit of sheer willpower did he managed to drag himself out of the bed and out to the window where he let the warm sun bathe his body as he saw how the marble decorated garden outside spread out over the large fortress and the city outside the keep where he could see golden and green banners fly while people small as ants already walked around to tend to their own smallfolk business and beyond that so could he even see the mander spread out like a blue line in the country side.

"My lord!" a voice could be heard muffled by the door for only a moment before the large thick wooden barrier were pushed aside and the old robed man with the short almost white hair that started to withdraw from the top of his head and the thick white beard that served as the castle's maester rushed into the room with an parchment in his hand.

"My lo... ohhh I am terrible sorry my lord, would you mind if I waited until you got dressed?" the man stuttered as he saw the man that leaned out the window.
"Yes!" Garth said simply as he turned around to look at the older man that shook his head over the reply.
"erhmm... y-yes, we got a raven this morning about a tournament in Lannisport for you my lord!" the man said a bit uncomfortable as an excited smile spread over the lords mouth and his hazel brown eyes started to shine in that way they normally did when Tourneys were mentioned.

"Wonderful! ahh how I had missed those games, the sight of men clashing on the field of honour, the roars of the audience, the swooning ladies and the triumphant moment when your foe falls off his horse!" Garth started to ramble happily as he walked towards the door to make the necessary preparations, he needed to gather some followers and servants to care for his needs on the road, he needed to get some horses both for the journey and the tourney itself, he needed to get his armour and weapons looked over and a honour guard assembled.

"I would like Blackrose readied, my armour cleaned and oiled, Get a honour guard, lets say 50 men lead by Jargel Flowers, he might be a bastard but he is one of the best knights I have!" Garth said excited as he scratched his cheek to see if there was something that he had forgotten.
"Send a raven and say that I will attend and..."

"And get a pair of pants my lord?" the older man interrupted him with a raised eyebrow and urgent voice as the lord was halfway through the door before he stopped and looked down as the two guards outside apparently did their best not to laugh, something that not even the thick nose guards on their nasal helmets could hide
"Yes... I do believe that pants are.... traditional!" he said as he tried to find some way to figure out some way to save the situation as he turned around and back into the room.
"Yes I will send a raven and get a pair of your finest pants ready, does that sound like a good plan my lord?" the older man said as he shook his head over the younger knight.

---

"We are all done my lord!" the Jargel said as he rode forward to give the report to the impatient knight that sat on his horse and watched the column slowly but steadily take shape, in the front so did the honour guard sit on their horses armoured in the same silver coloured Hauberks that both Jargel and Garth wore even if their gorgets and shoulder pads lacked the golden rose wines engraved in them that the two noblemen, well the nobleman and bastard, in the front wore.
Their nasal helmets however were indistinguishable from the one that Jargel carried with the exception that they had a crown of white roses decorating their heads instead of the one of red that jargel wore to make him stick out.

The idea of the rather dashing headgear was one that Garth actually were rather proud of since it made damned sure that everyone, everyone that might have missed the green and golden kite shields that the guards wore that is, knew that these were Tyrell men and nobody you wanted to trifle with.
"The soldiers have been ready for a while and the servant folk just got the last things in the carts!" Jargel said as he looked back over his shoulder where a bunch of tired servants had just put up the last of the piles of their necessities on the wagons that they had not stuffed full with food, tents and things they would need to make camp and care for their armour and weapons.

"TAKE IT EASY WITH THE PERFUMED OILS! I REFUSES TO LET ME AND MY MEN SMELL LIKE SOME DAMNED IRONBORN!" Garth cried as he noticed how one of the urns that held their oils were about to fall over.
"well almost ready!" Jargel pointed out as he waited for the servants to tie their necessities down so that they would not fall off.
"Well I am sure that we are ready now!" Jargel corrected himself as the wagons and riders started to move.
"Wonderful! ONWARDS!" Garth cried as he kicked his travel horse in it's sides and started to move himself with a cheerful smile on his face as it seemed like he would have to live the simple life on the roads for a while.

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

Near Lord Harroway's Town on the Trident
The Riverlands

The Morning was overcast as a slight drizzle was pouring rain over the trident. It was as if the sky was shedding tears over its winding traws of rushing water which left a smell of marshy lands and light grassy soil as it was right before a larger rainfall. The great collection of Horses were all heading to the Westerlands as the King led in the front with his mighty Kingsguard. The Silver Prince hung back as he looked over the ruins of the castle of Harrenhal and he immediately became pensive and overcome with thought as Ragnar seemed to pass ahead of him. His Valyrian eyes were sad as he saw what was once a home where a family once lived happily and now practically gone as his ancestors burned it to the ground in the wars of conquest. Rhaegar saw Helenia following him closer and his serious and melancholic gaze softened as he gave her a wave.

Helenia rode forward and smiled at Rhaegar, she was riding side saddle wearing a dark red velvet riding dress, her hair was done up and covered by a simple white net, “A lovely day for a long ride is it not your highness?”

Rhaegar held his hand out and collected some of the drizzle as it pitter pattered making a clanking sound over his plate armor. He smirked for a moment as he looked back at Helenia with a blank expression.

“It’s going to pour any minute, but I suppose I’ll have my squire take care of my armor when we get to the riverlands for a break. Though, I think Ole Ragnar Gaunt will have a hell of a time.” Rhaegar said as he pointed at the knight ahead of him. “Still no squire, Ser Ragnar?”

Ragnar upon hearing his name looked back over his shoulder and said “I may not have a squire but I do have my Page. But this work will still fall on me for he is to young to care to my armor as of now unfortunately.” Like Rhaegar predicted it began to pour “By the seven hells”.” Ragnar swore

Helenia pulled the net from her hair and laughed as the rain poured down, her dark hair cascaded down around her shoulders, “Tis nothing but a wee shower!” she grinned at both of the men as she reached up and wiped the wet hair from her forehead to the side.

Ragnar looked to the new voice from behind him and said “I do not believe we have met M’lady I am Ser Ragnar Gaunt.”

“A pleasure to meet you, I am Lady Helenia Wylde”, she bowed her head to him and continued to grin, Helenia then turned her face up letting the rain fall against it closing her eyes for a few moments.

Rhaegar smirked again and looked at Ragnar and called out, his voice almost echoing over the rushing waters of the trident.

“It seems I am outmanned once again, I say! I daresay this is one of the most bothersome storms I have had to ride through. I do hope father is enjoying himself.” Rhaegar said as he gestured to one of the only covered wagon companies ahead as the silver prince tried to shake out the soaking wetness from his dripping silver hair. “At least I haven’t fallen in the mud this time!” he chuckled as he looked toward Helenia, remembering what a sight he was when they first met.

Ragnar slowed snow and waited for Rhaegar to catch up a little “You should hurry up at this rate we will be camping again. And good luck finding dry ground with this rain” he said as the rain continued to pound against his armor.

clang, clang, clang, Rhaegar heard as the sound seemed to echo from the resonance on the steel of his armor. He looked ahead as the village was dead ahead and his father clearly had already found a suitable place for him to rest in the best suite in the town. Rhaegar still hung back and somehow was distracted. He couldn’t understand why, but he felt that there was something inherently wrong that couldn’t be expressed in words, but then it became obvious as he spotted that bald head slowly sauntering toward his father.

Rugen... He has come and intends to come to the tourney it seems. Damn it, now I cannot do a thing without having him watch my every move. Rhaegar thought as he saw Ragnar staring at him as he had just been standing in the middle of the rain for about 10 minutes looking blankly.

Helenia sighed happily in the rain it reminded her of the beautiful storms that would visit the Rain House, well her family thought they were beautiful, many others seemed terrified of the harsh winds and rain that lashed against faces like tiny whips, she looked ahead and saw the village, she wasn’t quite sure which inn she was staying in but hoped it had a good hot fire to dry out her riding dress it was the only one she had.

Ragnar continued to stare at Rhaegar “Ser Rhaegar we should continue to move. I do not enjoy sitting here in the rain watching my armor rust on me.” he said with a smirk knowing full well that his armor was not rusting because he actually took care of it making sure it wouldn’t but he hoped that taunt would move the prince along.
“A-Aye...” Rhaegar said apprehensively as his eyes instinctively narrowed when Rugen looked back at him. Almost like a challenge, the spymaster could see everything, and it meant there was nothing Rhaegar could hide. He would damn well try, at least.

Rhaegar tied Fade to the stables as he happily ate a bushel of carrots and Rhaegar took a moment to pat his horse warmly as he tried to step out of sight and went toward a small inn, primarily for smallfolk, but he needed a place where he at least had the illusion that he’d be out of the sight of the Spymaster.

Intentionally distancing me from my father are you? Hmph... I see right through it, and I’ll not allow myself to be so easily brushed away. Rhaegar thought to himself as he approached the bartender which seemed to be shocked that the Prince was anywhere near his bar. The Valyrian features were unmistakable.

Ragnar followed in prince as was his duty “My prince why have we come here? This place is hardly befitting of you.” he asked in a low voice as to not insult the bartender. The water dripped off his armor on to the floor making a small puddle where he stood to the right of Rhaegar.

Helenia followed the in and asked a smallfolk woman for a large bowl, when she brought it forth to her she twisted her hair into a ponytail and squeezed the water out of it, she smiled sheepishly at Ragnar and Rhaegar, “Well, I think it is a nice inn indeed very clean and warm.”

The bartender looked confused as he immediately gave the Knights the best ale he could muster. It was tepid and sour, but Rhaegar didn’t seem to be drinking much of it at all. He also took a moment to catch his breath as he sat in a corner table and seemed to be brooding as he pondered for a way to one up Rugen. He spotted Helenia and immediately got slapped to reality. He approached her and carefully motioned for her to approach.

“Miss Wylde, what are you doing here?” The silver Knight asked muttering quietly into a deep calming whisper.

Helenia arched an eyebrow at Rhaegar, “Getting warm and somewhat dry, you seem troubled your highness what could be the matter, do you really not like the rain?”

Rhaegar sighed as he looked at Helenia and the Bartender passed Rhaegar a warm towel and he put it around Helenia, draping it over her shoulders. He didn’t say anything for a moment as he tried to fight for words when he spoke with his deep rolling iron tones.

“Miss Wylde, have you ever had a moment when you desired to have someone listen to your words desperately only to have them ignore your every word?” Rhaegar asked as he didn’t seem to answer the question Miss Wylde asked at all.

“My lord I am a woman, hardly anyone listens to a single thing I say at all”, she smiled kindly at him, “in seriousness, yes I understand your feelings, I do not have the easiest of relations with my father and I find he does not enjoy listening to my words.”

“Well this is the strangest thing, you see, my father did not always behave like this. There was a time when we were close. I was just that little boy who sat on his lap as he’d read to me in the candlelight and he’d tell me stories about heroes and maidens and the triumph of good over evil. I was a child then, I didn’t know how much pressure he was in. I still don’t. I don’t think I will be able to even imagine what it is like, but when I try to talk to him now... he is cold. I am not the boy who cried to him and mother when I had a cut or bruise from a scuffle. No, now I am... the enemy.”

Ragnar stared at Rhaegar and said “My prince I do not understand what is the problem and is there anyway I can help?” Ragnar did not entirely understand what was happening. He was a fighter Rhaegar had always been the planner.

“Those fair times... I look back on it and it’s almost funny. He used to laugh you know. My father was a happy man despite his troubles. Now he balks at shadows, he is afraid of a whisper, he thinks a knife is in every hand, waiting to stab him in the back. Even I am ‘a problem’. That’s what he told me the other day, a ‘problem’. I didn’t know what he meant.” Rhaegar said as his face darkened and he sighed. “I have spoken too much, perhaps I am weary or overly drenched. I am quite a sight...”

Helenia sat down and thought for a moment, “That is troublesome indeed, your highness I am not one for politics whether familial or otherwise...I am not sure how your father...our king has changed his opinion of you so suddenly.”

Rhaegar took a moment to brush some of the water out of his silvery hair and spoke very low and very carefully.

“Do you know of Lord Darklyn of Duskendale?” He asked both of the others in a deep and nervous whisper.

Ragnar nodded a little “You mentioned something about them in King’s Landing but you didn’t tell me anything you just asked if I knew anything of them. I heard tell in King’s Landing afterward however that there was some problem or another with them.” he responded. Rhaegar seemed to nod as he motioned for them both to come even closer.

“They have declared to my father that they wish to edit and revoke some of the rights of my father’s rulership. They have declared that unless they are given exactly what they want in rights and added privileges to their city writ, that they will refuse to pay taxes and they will declare my father to be an illegitimate ruler. These are what I hear in whispers of the shadows. That they will revolt, and that they will threaten my father’s power in the Crownlands. His Center of power. This is...an incredibly horrifying thought.”

“Your highness I would not speak of this again in such a public place...”, Helenia nearly hissed the whisper to him, “I hate to say this to you because you have been so kind to me...they are most likely not the only house who have such plans...”

Ragnar was shocked “My family is and will be loyal to House Targaryen never would we fight against it. My sword is yours my prince, this is even more reason for me to stay with you at all times.” he said his hand moving down to his sword hilt.

“Allow me to be incredibly clear, if this were to happen it would mean my father’s legitimacy as protector of the realms will be brought into question. Our lands would face siege, and they could kill the people of King’s Landing. They could kill my father, my mother, and I as well. Rebellion doesn’t merely mean a spat, it means kill or die.” Rhaegar said with a grim expression.

Helenia’s face turned very serious, “If they do rebel it will cause other houses to rebel as well...and if the Greyjoys hear of such weakness...” she shook her head, “they will move in like vultures to a carcass”

“Indeed, and if the Greyjoys come, there will not be enough caskets. They are murdering raping dogs.” Rhaegar said through gritted teeth, not trying to indicate why he was enraged as it was his oath that he would not tell anyone what happened to Helenia.

Ragnar looked grim and said “This is troubling news indeed but why worry about the Greyjoys they will never trouble the main land they are nothing but cowardly pirates. No better than stray dogs.”

Helenia laughed, “You have no idea Ser Ragnar, the Greyjoys are cruel do not underestimate them, never underestimate a people who do such things as they do...”
“They fight without honor, they are barbarians like those beyond the wall. True knights could best them with ease.” Ragnar sneered.

“Without a doubt, but this still troubles me deeply. I try to speak with my father, convince him to seek Tywin Lannister’s counsel on how to settle the situation. I have my doubts about Tywin’s faithfulness to my family, but there’s no one I trust more in dealing with rebels than Tywin Lannister. My father will hear none of it. It’s...” Rhaegar sighed and leaned back as he pulled his satchel out and began to check his books, and to his relief, none of them were wet from the dripping rain.

Helenia stared at Ragnar and fidgeted with her glove but said nothing to him, nothing about her meeting with the Greyjoys and what they took from her, “The Lannisters...” she looked at Rhaegar and sighed, “Convince Tywin that is in his family’s interest to keep the king where he is, which means power for them clearly” she shook her head sadly.

“I have, but my father does not trust him.” Rhaegar said with a grim look. “Tywin is brilliant, and a very strong leader. People trust him well to do his job as Hand of the King, but governing is what gives Tywin a strong hold over the Seven Kingdoms, where my father’s tightening grip merely alienates people of our lands.”

Ragnar shook his head and said “The Lannisters are too ambitious for their own good they can not be trusted. They would kill you and your father if they thought they could take the throne.”

“That they would, and it’s why my father does not consult him. But the Lannisters have every reason to appear loyal, so they smile and reach with a ruse of loyalty and then they back away and things continue to get stronger in enmity.” Rhaegar said with a nervous look.

Helenia shook her head as well, “If they sense your family is losing grip on the nation your highness they will turn upon you like a pack of feral dogs.”

“Something must be done that can be seen but what? What or who is making the king act this way my prince?” Ragnar asked looking rather concerned.

Rhaegar frowned as he remembered the eunuch and the Lannisters and the Tyrells and the Martells, just about every house with an exception to the Vale, The Riverlands, and the Northerners had some sort of odd hold upon the Small Council and the power playing was grasping at his father’s neck like a noose pulling tight. The more he struggled the tighter it got. How long would it take before his father was killed by it? He wouldn’t stand for it.

“Many people...even me.” He said as he lie back and began to take his harp in hand and twanged a soft slow melody which seemed to remind him of that night where he watched his mother and father argue and as he stepped in to break it apart he was struck across the face with a glancing blow from his father’s hand. His look of shock and terror and the sense of betrayal was deep and his terrified amethyst eyes glanced back at his father’s. His eyes looked cold, and relentless. He would certainly not hesitate to hurt him, but would he one day kill him? He didn’t know, but he did not wish to test this theory.

The more loyal and loving I am toward my father, the more he will trust me. If I act on his behalf, with as much honor as possible, maybe he will not... his thoughts became dark Maybe then... even then.

Helenia sighed and looked down at the table, “Family is a burden at times...” she pulled her long dark hair over her shoulder and began to braid it slowly in a messy and distracted way, “I sometimes dream of having no family at all...though that is selfish and foolish of me to wish such a thing”

“Hm... wishing for no family, I don’t know how to react to this. My father lost most of his family in Summerhall. They were burned to death trying to revive dragon eggs.” Rhaegar said with a strange look. “The thing they say about kings is, they’re the loneliest people, because they cannot have friends, only subjects, and they cannot have a family, because most of them are orphans. They cannot marry for love, because they have politics to think of.”

“Yes many have said that the Iron Throne has no comfort”, Helenia smiled at Rhaegar, “I’m sorry your highness I do not think I am good counsel, I seem to cause more questions than satisfy answers”

“You know that one of the Targaryens as legend has it, actually was killed by sitting on the iron throne? When it was built it was made by the swords of the conquered and Aegon made it as a reminder to always be vigiliant, to always be prepared and not to slacken even once while presiding over the Seven Kingdoms. When I sit upon it, I do not know whether I’d be ready for it, but I’d make changes if I could.” Rhaegar said as he looked up and offered a towel to Ragnar.

Ragnar took the offered towel “Thank you Rhaegar, I know not what to think of this conversation but I can tell you this ale tastes terrible. Leon could likely brew better than this swill.” he said and finished what was left in his tankard.
Helenia grinned up at Ragnar, “Perhaps you two should get something else to drink, perhaps they have some summerwine left?”, she began to stand up, “I should most likely go to find my room, again Ser Ragnar it was a pleasure to meet you” she curtsied to him and then to Rhaegar, “Your highness, I will take my leave if it pleases you”

Ragnar bowed his head and responded “I was nice meeting you as well M’lady. Should you need anything I will be near the prince. Most likely standing guard, don’t want someone cutting his throat while he sleeps now do we?”

“Yes, his highness needs to be kept safe indeed, who knows when he shall slip and fall in the mud again”, Helenia smiled and nodded her head to them, turning to go.

Rhaegar looked up at Ragnar and hid his sense of unease more as he continued to play his harp with a melancholic expression.

“So let me guess, you think I’ve lost it? Have I gone mad Ragnar?”

“Ragnar simply stared at him “My prince what would make you come to such a conclusion? I have known you since we were children, you have always been odd this is just a small bit stranger than your normal.”

“I suppose so. You should rest, I’ll be alright. I’m going to take a moment and just work on my music.” Rhaegar said with a calm look.

“I’ll still keep an eye out.” Ragnar said as he looked at Rhaegar who shook his head. “You’ve got your page and brother to worry about. Go check on them and come back.”

“They’ll be with my guard.” Ragnar reassured Rhaegar as he silently played his harp. After a few hours Rhaegar went to his room and rested without a word.

[Cantalvia]

The Cheap Inn Near Lord Harroway's Town on the Trident
The Riverlands

The Silver Prince woke up long after the sun had already risen, his head was hurting terribly as the terrible ale had crushed his ability to concentrate. He looked to the hotel that his father had stayed in, and the Kingsguard had already left. The Royal Entourage headed toward Riverrun while Rhaegar had been left behind, to his horror. He was not sure how far away they had gone, but he knew he was essentially on his own. He had no protection other than poor Ser Ragnar. His mind began to swill as he tried to shake the feeling that Rugen may have planned this, because he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He was afraid of becoming as paranoid as his father was, and so believed it perhaps an innocent mistake. He wasn’t sure so he was going to make the assumption it was a mistake of sorts, but he knew he was vulnerable.

Helenia sat almost silently down in the tavern absent mindedly eating the fruit,bread and cheese that had been brought for her to break her fast,she had seen the royal entourage leave, in fact she was going to leave with it until she had noted that the prince and Ser Ragnar had not appeared, she had been torn on whether to follow or to stay and wait for Rhaegar to come down, she had yet to see Ser Ragnar either which was also odd she wondered if the men had stayed up an had drank their worries away.

Helenia had always found that men were fond of drinking their pains away, she on the other hand carried her hurts with her like a cloak confronting them each day as she woke up and each night as she fell asleep, she bit into a small bit of cheese and silently fumed at the excess she imagined the men had taken too in the wee hours of the night. The silver prince came down the stairs and saw Helenia which made his nerves rush even more.

“Oh, ah, Miss Wylde. It makes me pleased to see you are well. Did my father perhaps leave a small accompaniment of guards to watch over you?” He asked hopefully.

Helenia looked up into his violet eyes with her own blue ones, her were hard and cold, “Not a single man has remained save for you and Ser Ragnar, the entourage left at dawn your highness...hours ago.”

“So we are alone.” He said with a slight hoarse scratchiness in his voice. It wasn’t a question and he immediately paled for a moment and shook his head as Ragnar yawned and followed him. He had not rested all night and managed to hang vigil over the prince but his vigil was interrupted by sleep as he cursed under his breath when he realized that they had in fact been left behind.

“Quite...”, Helenia stood and motioned at two canvas bags,”cheese, bread...we should move if we are going to catch up with his majesty and his men” she curtsied to the both of them and walked out quickly.
Rhaegar realized he’d have to protect Helenia and that poor Ragnar was fatigued from the lack of sleep which meant his focus was jogged. He was in deep trouble, and was most obviously unable to disguise himself. His jeweled armor, his Targaryen surcoat, his dragon helm, and his bright purple Valyrian eyes; He was most obviously a Targaryen, and also was clearly THE Targaryen Prince of Dragonstone. He grabbed his satchel and walked outside and motioned for Helenia to follow as he tied his provisions onto Fade.

“You can ride with me if your horse is left behind.” Rhaegar said with a warm motion, trying to hide his obvious feeling of fear.

Helenia laughed,”I waited for YOU your highness I woke with the others” she pulled herself up onto her grey mare and shifted herself to sit side saddle, “well now I hope you had a good night your highness we must make up time now...I am surprised that they left without you...”

“As am I... without the Kingsguard as well. This...” He didn’t say more but it was something that he didn’t want Helenia to know. “...does not matter, we ride together.” He said as he gestured for her to follow as they rode quickly out of the town heading down the main road.

As they rode Helenia reached down a checked a space in her saddle there she had hidden a dagger, one she had taken from a knight’s pack during the early morning confusion, it was a small rough thing, more than likely used for cutting meat than for fighting, she took a deep breath and hoped that she was not going to have to use it...mainly because she knew that she would be not match for anyone who had the slightest bit of training, but perhaps she would be able to surprise them, it would be her only chance she clenched her gloved hand in anger.

They rode far on the way to High Heart. A very tall hill in the Riverlands. It was said to be sacred to the children of the forest. Around its crown stood a ring of thirty-one weirwood stumps. The hill was high up compared to the flat land surrounding it which makes it makes it nearly impossible to be approached unseen. Rhaegar had hoped he would be able to get a view from afar as he headed to the Westerlands.

The nearby smallfolk avoid the area as it is said to be haunted by the slaughtered children of the forest who had been killed by the Andal king Erreg, which of course gave Rhaegar a sense of foreboding while Fade trotted up to the hilltop. He looked around as he saw a group of riders. They weren’t Kingsguard and they certainly weren’t Riverland noble guards.

“Highwaymen.” Rhaegar said as he motioned for Helenia to get closer with her grey horse. He grasped his blade, a longsword with an iron grip which made his knuckles pale white beneath the steel armored gauntlet and handguard.

Helenia looked down at them and her mind went back to the sea, the Greyjoys her hand tightened on her reins, “We cannot ride around the area your highness...what do you think we should do?” her other hand was already moving to the space in the saddle, her eyes narrowed.
“We can’t ride around it, so we might just have to ride through it. I only regret that I don’t have my lance with me.” Rhaegar said with a frown. “Follow close behind me.”

“I’ll take point your Grace, you and Miss Helenia Wylde will approach and rightguard. Do not stop for anything.” Ragnar said with a frown and Rhaegar quickly nodded.

Ragnar rushed forward and sliced through a highwayman before he could even lay a threat. The Highwaymen then went after the solitary rider and Rhaegar motioned for Helenia to rush through the broken ranks.

Helenia rode hard but it was difficult, side saddles were not meant for women to go at a full gallop, she squeezed her leg as tight as she could around the pommel feeling it dig into her thigh and calf muscles, her ungloved hand slipped into the space in her saddle and she gripped the handle of the dagger, she glanced to the side and saw that there were more highwaymen came out from the trees, “They had reinforcements the whole time!” as one of them came close beside her and reached out to grab her reigns Helenia whipped out the dagger and slashed at his hand, the man let out a cry of pain and fell from his horse.

Rhaegar pulled his bow from his horse strap and climbed to his feet as he fired his arrows while standing upon fade as he was trotting forward, and once his quiver was emptied he jumped off his horse and did a somersault and landed upon a highwayman which dove at him in a strike. He unhorsed the highwayman as the Highwayman Helenia unhorsed was trampled by the rushing highwaymen reinforcements. Rhaegar cried out to Fade as he faithfully came to his master’s call as Rhaegar tried to calm the horse whose master he threw to the ground bleeding.

Ragnar didn’t give a shit, he struck a horse down as he didn’t well leave Snow at all, the full fury of his might leaving many of the Highwaymen panicking their morale was dropping.

Helenia had gone into a rage as she sliced the first man’s hand she reared her horse and swung around and rode hard back towards the men she screamed loudly and swung wildly at them with the dagger and rearing her horse making it kick it’s front legs at them.

“Ragnar! Let’s GO!” Rhaegar shouted in a booming voice.

“Yes, your Grace!” He yelled as they rushed toward the open fields. The Silver Prince’s blade was red with blood and he swiped it and the blood splattered on the tree.

Rhaegar protectively guarded Helenia as the Highwaymen backed away and kept their distance. The terribly strong knights were not worth engaging. Rhaegar sighed as he looked at his empty quiver.

“Let’s Move!” He shouted as they rushed toward the Westfield.

Helenia hissed and grinned wildly at the Highwaymen as the back off and rode away, she followed Rhaegar not bothering to wipe the blood from her dagger yet as the moved quickly only stopping after they had rode for a long while.

Rhaegar’s heart was racing as he panted and he felt a tingling sensation in his fingers. He calmed Fade down as they took a moment to recollect themselves.

“Miss Wylde, are you alright?” Rhaegar asked carefully as he calmly wiped the blood off his blade of Valyrian steel, ‘Dark Sister’ she was called.

Helenia grinned at both Rhaegar and Ragnar, “I am quite well, better than I have felt for quite some time!” she pulled a hanky from her sleeve and wiped the blood from the blade and carefully slipped it back into the space in her saddle, “nothing like mingling with the common folk.”

“That’s a relief, I was afraid you might be hurt in the fray. It looks like they’re not coming. Thank the Seven.” Rhaegar said as he looked behind him to make sure they weren’t followed.

“How many days away are we from Riverrun, your grace?” Rangar asked.

“It is not worth the risk. It is my belief we should head straight to Lannisport. If we are careful and keep from the hunting paths, we’ll be able to reach there without finding ourselves trapped behind the blade of a highwayman or bandits.” Rhaegar panted as he wiped away some of the sweat from his brow.

Helenia’s heart was beating fast as well hearing about running into additional highwaymen sounded fun, but she soon shook herself from the very idea, she had not known what came over her and nodded at Rhaegar, “Yes I think you’re right your highness we should keep away from the main road for now, our group is too small, we are a fine target I think”

“Indeed, and I am out of arrows. We won’t have an advantage again.” Rhaegar said with a nervous look.

Helenia nodded and followed the two men along a narrow hunting path, ducking herself low under the branches almost resting her head against the back of the neck of her horse, she let her mind wander to Lannisport the very nest of the Lannisters, she thought of the danger Rhaegar may be riding towards and what she may face, she even thought of the tourney it seemed to be the only thing happy to think of these days but she was now thinking that it would be like so many other things that have happened to her recently just another disappointment.

Their pathway to Lannisport was a dangerous one, and they rode through day and night as they arrived to the Edge of the Westerlands way ahead of schedule.

[House Lannister of the Westlands]

OOC: This post co-written with Houses Targaryen, Greyjoy, Wylde, and Gaunt.

The City of Lannisport
The Westerlands

The Pace was rushed as Ser Rhaegar, Ragnar, and Helenia arrived at the City of Lannisport in the early morning. The sun was brightly shining and it seemed that they had arrived before King Aerys II and his entourage. There was a slight breeze as the clear weather meant there was no way for them to not be spotted by the City Watch. The stop at the Riverlands may have given his Majesty the needed delay for the group to quickly rush ahead cutting through the pass. Rhaegar felt uneasy as he did not know what kind of welcoming party to receive, especially now that his father had taken the time to make Rhaegar a personal item of distaste before the Lannisters by being more harsh with them in both treatment and also taxes.

The walls of Lannisport shone golden in the sunrise, and crimson banners of the lion rampant snapped smartly on the morning breeze. Off a short ways to the north, the vast bulk of Casterly Rock perched on its mountain, overlooking the city not unlike in manner the Red Keep on the other coast of the Kingdom, all towers and walls and colonnades. The gates were open, but were well-manned by guards in the usual golden-colored Lannister armor, checking carts and carriages of those entering and leaving the city, and noting down the names of travelers and their business. It certainly appeared that the guards were even more diligent about their business as usual, with all the increased traffic to the city for the tourney.

Ser Rhaegar motioned for Helenia to move forward while Ragnar was the Rear Guard. The City of Lannisport was well known for the strength of their people and their immense wealth. It was said that the Streets of Lannisport was paved with Gold, perhaps for all the Gold quarries in their land, but Rhaegar could see the deep difference between Lannisport and the nasty squalor in King’s Landing. He couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the management of Tywin of course.

“Perhaps we should notify the City Guard of our arrival, no doubt my father has yet to arrive lest he make a furor about how I am late or worse.” Rhaegar said as Fade trotted forward happily out of the long way through to Lannisport.

Ragnar followed behind Rhaegar mumbling to himself about his dislike of the Lannisters and having to go to their city and not the capital for a tourney in the name of the king. “Rhaegar why again is the Tourney here and not at King’s Landing?” he asked a tinge of anger in his voice.

“Well Lord Tywin has indeed extended his hand in hospitality to our Knights. It’s an opportunity to draw wealthy nobles and such. Not to mention it’s a very large boost to prestige. Though, I do not know why it is being done in my Father’s honor. Well, perhaps it is done specifically done to catch my father’s attention to something I don’t know what.” Rhaegar said as he climbed off Fade and dismounted petting him as Fade seemed to protest and followed behind obediently.

Helenia looked around at Lannisport in wonder she had thought that King’s Landing had been a sight to see but Lannisport was almost beyond belief she had never seen such wealth in all her life she found that she was beginning to feel most out of place from the people dressed in their fineries on the streets in the distance, she brushed her hair smooth self consciously , “By the seven I will look like a wilding to these people” she whispered to herself.

Ragnar spit and said “Leave it to the Lannisters to take money from the people who need it. King’s Landing could use this tourney more than Lannisport. The wealth these people flaunt is sickening.” After speaking he continued mumbling to himself.

“Lord Tywin is a pragmatic sort, it’s obvious that he did this for the sake of gathering favor with the other nobles and smallfolk. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to do so considering my father’s firmer hand upon him as of late.” Rhaegar said low in a small whisper.

Not entirely something that was out of my control. He will perhaps know it is my fault from his position. The Spymaster and Tywin both have eyes that expand throughout the realm. Rhaegar thought grimly as he took a moment to lead Fade to a more clear spot away from the massive crowding.

Helenia only half paid attention to what Rhaegar and Ragnar were talking about, she did enjoy their company but the journey had been long and Rhaegar and Ragnar had a habit of jibbering at each other about all manner of things, Helenia was not used to having to be part of long conversations and had found herself growing quite bored of the talk of Lannisters and who may be coming to joust.

The queue of people waiting to enter the city progressed quickly; the guards were thorough but efficient, and soon enough the party was at the head of the line. One of the Lannister men approached them, “Name and business?” Then he noticed Rhaegar, and his armor. “Apologies, my prince,” he said, bowing low. “I assume you are here for the tournament? And who are your noble companions?”

“This is Miss Helenia Wylde of the Stormlands, a ward and Vassal of House Baratheon, and This is Ser Ragnar Gaunt from the Crownlands, a vassal of the King’s and a friend of mine.” Rhaegar said with a warm smile. “I see Lord Tywin must be very busy anticipating my father’s arrival. I’ll not trouble you further. If you could perhaps point me to where the Tourney grounds are I’ll begin setting up and practice before my Father arrives, and if someone could please inform me of his arrival I would be most grateful.”

The guard nodded quickly, “Of course, my prince, I will see it done. You’ll find the arena along the Boulevard of Lions, not far from the Great Western Sept. You can’t miss it. Welcome to Lannisport.”

The gates themselves were high and thick, speaking of a well-defensible city. Two gates and two portcullises, one inside the other, with the ceiling of the gatehouse gridded to easily fire arrows into anyone unfortunate enough to be trapped between. Today, everything was open, of course, and soon they were through into the city proper.

If Ragnar was disgusted outside, he would probably retch once inside; nothing in King’s Landing was anything like this. It was clear why the Lannisters were popular with their smallfolk, at any rate. The gate opened onto a square with an ornate stone fountain in its center, carved in the likeness of a rampant lion, surrounded by high stone buildings containing inns and bustling storefronts, decorated with carved wood and gilt filigree (though that was almost certainly not actually gold). The streets were not actually paved in gold, of course, but the cobbles of the square and the streets beyond were in stone of any number of colors, arranged in swirling, pleasing patterns, all quarried from the mountains of the Westerlands; the streets were lined with trees. The people, to a man, appeared healthy and prosperous. Crimson banners were everywhere, with the golden lion of the Lannisters upon them.

”...and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere, yet now the rains weep o’er his halls, with not a soul to hear...” A bard was perched on the edge of the fountain, singing and playing for a gathered crowd. Whether Lord Tywin had arranged this ‘greeting’ for anyone entering the city for the tournament could not be said for certain one way or the other; certainly The Rains of Castamere was a popular enough song in the Westerlands.

Helenia listened to as much of the ballad as she could as she rode along the streets with her companions, she sighed as the song became drowned out by the many conversations, the laughing and shouting on the crowded streets, she scanned the crowd and looked at the different faces and clothing of the many different people.

Ser Rhaegar heard the song as he closed his eyes and imagined the way he could play the song upon his harp as well as he could with the deep rich tones and he thought to himself that it would be rather fun for him to try his hand at the song itself.

And who are you, the proud lord said,
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
That's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
A lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
As long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
With no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,
And not a soul to hear.

He sang along with the deep irony tones that had melted many fair lady’s hearts as he remembered crooning the song to a young lady in the court once and her heart was so moved by his rendition that she shed tears for the loss of the Lord Reyne of Castamere who lost everything in his hubris for standing against the power of a Lannister who would not dare repeat the weaknesses of his father’s graces. No, Tywin Lannister was a man of different character, and this was almost feeling to Rhaegar as a test for him. The song, The Rains of Castamere, was almost in its own way a testament to the power of Tywin Lannister and it did feel deeply intimidating as he remembered the abject slaughter that seduced his father into making the Lord his Hand.

Helenia delighted in listening to Rhaegar sing, she looked around with a smile on her face as they rode towards the tourney grounds, she could picture the sad scene in her own mind as she rode and her smile of delight hearing the prince sing began to melt into silent tears as she pictured the sorrow of the situation. The Lord looking over his castle with every man, woman, and child slain in a horrifying fashion as they learned a very harsh lesson that no one ever dared relearn. A Lannister would not merely always pay his debts, but he would take them and exact his revenge with a ferocity of a lion. No attack to their pride would ever be tolerated.

Yes, The Rains of Castamere was a song, a song of warning, but one so sad that none would dare forget the the old castle of Castamere which still stood as a testament to the Lannister’s ability to tolerate dissent, which was none. There was much more to be said about Rhaegar’s feeling about the situation, but he instead kept his thoughts to himself as he played his harp in his mind silently and looked ahead, forward, unafraid of what stood in front of him.

From a side street, the crowds parted before a man and his companions, perhaps afraid they might gut them and make off with some bauble, though why they would react so wasn’t clear until the kraken was visible on his clothing. A short ways behind, a pair of City Watch could be seen moving through the crowd as well, probably carefully shadowing the Greyjoy and his retinue to ensure there would not be trouble.

Ivron Greyjoy, standing taller than most of the greenlanders, was flanked by some of his corsairs, having turned up to attend the melee, as was Ivron’s right as a man of ‘noble’ birth... and to deliver a message to his ‘bride’. They looked at the city and its people with casual disdain, as they made their way to the tourney grounds. They did not seem to have noticed Helenia yet.

Helenia turned her head and her heart nearly stopped she saw him, Ivron Greyjoy a icicle of fear ran down her spine but was quickly replaced by a hot blaze a rage in her stomach, it made her feel ill to see him again, her gloved hand gripped the reins tightly she flicked them and rode closer glaring down at him, her mind raced with images of attacking him but she knew she had no chance in killing him, she bit her bottom lip hard trying to keep herself from screaming at him, she could taste the salty metallic taste of blood on her tongue.

Ivron continued to walk slowly with his two cronies, his two cruel war-axes evident to all who could see. He seemed to be looking for someone, then looked at Helenia. His deep blue eyes seemed to pierce her, and a frown appeared... then the grin returned as he walked straight for her.

“My bride!” he said as his men flanked him, their hands on their hilts.

Her eyes narrowed, “My lord, it has been some time indeed since we last met” she brushed aside her braid so it rested on her back, halting her horse to keep a good distance between them.

“Indeed it has, dear,” Ivron said, still grinning, although through his scars it seemed more like a grimace. His two cronies were doing likewise now, looking at Helenia with a mix of lust and disdain. “I trust your journey to Lannisport was comfortable?”

“Oh, yes it was quite enjoyable, there was some trouble with some highwaymen but it ended up as nothing more than a small nuisance” she smiled back at him coldly, “and how was your journey my lord?”

“As well as it could be, milady,” Ivron replied, then procured two letters “Can milady read?”

Helenia arched an eyebrow, “Yes I can, can you?” she tilted her head actually curious about what his answer may be.

“No,” Ivron answered, with a grin and handed over the letters, the original letter that Helenia’s father had penned to Andrik Greyjoy, and the Greyjoy’s response to Ivron “Or can I? Why should I tell you if I can or not?”

The letter that Ivron had received read:

Ivron Greyjoy,

Ivron you go to Lannisport, we will be rich like Lannisters, take many woman as lover, kill many greenlander. My cousin, you are not wise, and not great pirate in none of Iron Islands. When you left, sold loot, said goodbye to rockwife and children, and go to sea to become richman. When in sea, you went to merchant ship and married saltwife. Ivron you are not man I need, you are not the skills I need, your looting skills is poor like child. I would take you and smash your table. Someday I will be greatest King in Westeros, your children will wish me their father! My anger is best of me. It is then I know you must marry saltwife as rockwife, I bought her from Wylde (he is dummy). Soon Greyjoy blood rule over Wylde and we be perfect lords! I write letter to you Ivron, your marry skills is like god, you will rule Wylde soon. But I not proud of you. Good luck cousin. Return to Pyke when you got your new rockwife (who is countess or even duchess)! Hahaha! Also your wife is killed by hanging.

Andrik Greyjoy

Helenia read the letter and nearly fell from her horse laughing, “My, my it seems your cousin does not wish you well my lord, I am sorry for your loss and sorry that I am to replace it. Your cousin is aware of our marriage and has accepted me as your true rockwife.” she tossed the letter back to him, “We are to return to Pyke at once.”

“Not at once, dear” Ivron said, a touch of spite in his voice “First, the melee as I believe the greenlander term for beating the shit out of each other for fun is?”

“The Lord Reaper calls for you, your first wife is dead...perhaps he’ll go for your loin spawn next if you disobey him...” Helenia tilted her head at him with an inquisitive glance, “but perhaps you do not care for them either.”

Rhaegar had been trotting toward the tourney grounds not aware that Helenia had turned away and was instead engaging the Greyjoy due to the crowded mess. He figured she’d catch up behind him but the longer she took the more uneasy he felt.

Ivron’s grin vanished for a moment, before returning again. “The Lord Reaper can go fuck himself and his legion of whores. We have time for the melee and more still... watch your tongue, dear, or else I might give you another ring.” Ivron turned to one of the cronies, patted him on the shoulder and nodded. Then Ivron and the other ironborn left, leaving Helenia with the other, a somewhat older man, short grey beard and a weathered face.

“I’ll be your... guard, Lady Wylde.” he said, although the pleasantries sounding stilted and forced “I’m the first mate of the Storm’s End, Lord Greyjoy’s ship.”

Helenia regarded him carefully and spoke to him, “Charmed...” she bowed her head to him, “I apologize for being an inconvenience to you, and by the by the Lord Reaper will hear how his cousin regards him” she smiled slightly, “now then I am to be Lady Ninefinger...were you there when he took my finger?”

“That I was,” the first mate replied, taking a look at Helenia’s right “You got off easy. Ivron doesn’t take saltwives, and doesn’t let us take any either...” the first mate sounded bitter at that “And I do think the Lord Reaper knows what his cousin thinks of him. They’ve been at it for years.”

Helenia smiled at the man and pulled off her glove and showed him her iron finger, “Yes I have read what the Greyjoys do to ships they capture and I know I am lucky despite the fact that if I could I’d gut Ivron and feed his liver to the gulls...” she closed her eyes and took a breath to calm herself, “if I had a ship I’d let my men take saltwives, but again I am a woman and I suppose that is not to be, besides I suppose we should go to this tourney so you can watch your lord kill greenlanders as you call them”

“You would, would you?” the first man said, looking at the surrounding cityfolk suspiciously “Wouldn’t be the first time an Ironborn ship was led by a woman. You are too soft to be an ironborn, lass, so I don’t think that will happen. And yes... where is this tourney to be held...”

The first mate grabbed the closest townsman by the collar of his shirt, and shouted : “Where’s the tourney grounds?”

The City Watchmen advanced and put their hands to their sword hilts as the corsair grabbed the fellow, but by now the party had nearly reached the tourney grounds, and the man stammered and pointed, “It’s... it’s behind you, milord...”

“Ah,” the first man said, letting the man go “So that’s how it looks like... Come, Lady Ninefinger.”

The tourney ground, like the rest of Lannisport, was truly something to behold. Rather than an ad-hoc area set up in a clearing as was common in other parts of the realm, the Lannisters had constructed a proper arena, an elegant ellipse of stone, about twice as long as wide, the whole outside all pillars and colonnades. The tourney ground itself was in the middle, surrounded by seating for tens of thousands of citizens of Lannisport, and House Lannister made a tidy side-income selling admissions for the smallfolk to enjoy the tourneys held here.

At the halfway point of one side were a number of prominent boxes for noble guests. Each box had the banner of the House that would be using it hanging down in front. The central and largest box was usually reserved for the Lannisters, but it had been split for the moment, being more than large enough for the Lannisters and Targaryens to share. On the Targaryen side a platform had been set up for a throne to be placed, raised above the other seats so the King would not be slighted by this arrangement. Likewise, the Targaryen banner was hung slightly higher than the Lannister. On either side of the royal box was those for the other Great Houses, followed beyond that for Houses that paid allegiance to Casterly Rock. An observant eye would notice that the Great Houses’ boxes had been carefully arranged such that no two Great Houses that were allied had neighboring boxes; one might suspect this was done to minimize the scheming they would be able to do during the tourney, and thus further slightly advantage Lord Tywin.

There were far more nobles attending this tourney than there were boxes to hold them, of course; so the lower rows of seating, closest to the action, on the side opposite the boxes was roped off for noble guests. Over the seating areas was a canopy to keep the summer sun off the seats, and all of it was riotously colorful with banners and flags, Lannister crimson and gold and Targaryen red and black most prominent.

Rhaegar was beginning his troubles as he asked the young squire tending the area to polish his armor for the tourney as he had managed to not keep the mud off it from his struggle with the Highwaymen and also the nasty rains that came before it, which made him look rather off kilter than his usual proud black steel could muster. as he removed his armor and had it tended to he simply wore his noble’s clothing as he sat beside the grounds watching the anointed Knights practice as he took his harp and played it alone high in the Targaryen seating area, his tired eyes resting from the rush to arrive to Lannisport. He was not sure why but somehow he felt like he was being watched.

And he was right, but not (at least, not apparently) by any ‘little bird’ of the Lannister lord, but by the wide green eyes of a young girl in a red dress and curly golden hair, watching him from the gate to the Lannister seating. The prince continued to play his song as he did not notice the little girl watching him and he decided to play the songs he had learned along in his time among the Maesters as he looked around he expected to see Ragnar but to his surprise Ragnar was out practicing with great ferocity. A bit of dinted armor did not slow him down in the slightest, but then he stopped playing for a moment, and with a voice that was gentle and careful he spoke clearly so whomever was watching could listen.

“There is no reason to hide in the shadows, come forth. I prefer welcoming company.” The silver prince said as he set his harp beside him.

The girl smiled, and stepped out, smiling up at Rhaegar. She was a highborn girl, of course, and knew that anyone sitting here was certainly someone to curtsey to, which she did, perfectly. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, still smiling. “I’m Cersei. What’s your name?”

“I am Ser Rhaegar, a Knight of the Seven.” Rhaegar said with a warm smile. “You are Lady Cersei of House Lannister, are you not? Please join me, I have heard of you from your father in the Red Keep on occasion and he does speak fondly of you and your brother Jaime. Has he taken up the duties of a page? I heard that he was interested in being a squire or are those merely rumors?”

Cersei smiled. “Yes, that’s me! And Jaime is going to be a squire, and someday he’ll be a great and powerful knight. Just like you. I’ve heard of you. You’re a great and powerful knight, too.” She scampered closer, right to his feet, smiling up at him. She was a preciously adorable child, and would likely grow into a gorgeous young woman.

“Ah, well I’m not like the amazing warriors in the Targaryen line like Aegon the Conqueror, Rhaenys the Lady of Grace, and Visenya the Dark Sister. You see back in the ancient histories of Old Valyria, the Targaryens had great, great power. Strength of spirit so grand that even the mighty dragons bent to their will. As for me, I’m lucky if grass bent to my will.” He said playfully as he leaned down to be at eye level, and less intimidating. However to her he was hardly intimidating at all, but his features and strength of arm and muscle could easily be seen from the clothes he wore now that he wasn’t wearing the plate armor and surcoat. Surely he was a strong warrior and was being humble.

“The stories are told about you in the Small Council, your father believes you will become a great beauty and charm all the young men of the realm. With the beauty of the Queen of the Forest, the lady of light. Have you ever heard the story, Lady Cersei?” Rhaegar asked the little one with a smile.

She scrunched up her face for a moment, thinking about it. She’d heard a lot of stories, but finally shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.” She clambered up to sit on his lap. “Will you tell me?”

“Surely I will, I have heard in tales from lands far, far, away. Even beyond the lands of the Asshai that there is a land where it is always spring, never the dangerous terror of winter, nor the scorching heat of the summer. In these lands of Always Spring, there lived a beautiful Queen who dwelt in the forest among her children in the wilds. The Queen was beloved by all until one night there was a stranger in the forest disguised as a dangerous asp. The fearsome snake spoke to her and told her that there was a mighty land far to the West, called ‘Westeros’.” Rhaegar said with a smile.

“During this time we did not have the first men or the Rhoynar, and the tall sky buildings of Valyria. There were only the forest and the forest children of the Queen. In the depths of the forest long beyond the sight of the Wall which Brandon Stark, the Builder had yet to build, there was a human who awoke in the woods and dreamt about the queen and she sang a song so beautiful that he was brought to tears and so he craved to meet her and rushed to the north as far as he could. He met her with her ears in the shape of a leaf, and her eyes blue like the morning sky, her hair soft and white like winter snows. And she offered to this man a pact of eternal friendship.” Rhaegar said as he picked up his harp.

“With the pact, it was the beginning of how the First Men were able to overcome the terror and darkness of Winter and the Long Night. The Children of the Forest, and the Queen of the Wood fought alongside men and forced the Others northward in the land of distant snow which never melted. The Lands of Always Winter.”

Rhaegar began to play his harp and it was a beautiful melody that was almost reminiscent of the falling snow, but he of course knew that the story of the Long Night was much sadder a tale, and he didn’t wish to make the little girl sad. Instead he played a melody on his harp which was more upbeat.

Cersei smiled through the entire song, and leaned against him as he played, then smiled up at him when it was over. “That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she told him, ‘Thank you.”

Rhaegar smiled at the little girl and with a warm nod he cleared his throat. “I have many stories I have heard over the years, and many more I have read. My Mother believes that I spend more time reading than speaking. Sometimes I believe she is right. Though, I do enjoy a song and a story told among the right company. I’m surprised your father is still not around making more checks of the area, or perhaps he is waiting for my father to arrive?” Rhaegar asked as he realized it would not be long before he would have to raise his guard up and face his likely very angry father. Separating from the Kingsguard was something that Rhaegar should never have done, but in his mind it was strange that no guard but Ragnar stayed behind.

“Or perhaps,” came a regal and resonant voice from across the half-wall between the Lannister and Targaryen seating, “I was waiting until you were done entertaining my daughter. She does seem to like you.” Lord Tywin was seated there, and it wasn’t clear when he had shown up, or how long he’d been watching. The man, clearly, was as stealthy as the symbol of his House. He smiled warmly, though more to Cersei then to Rhaegar.

Rhaegar gave a respectful nod of his head, but his warm deep purple eyes became frigid with a deep distrust that he tried to hide as best as he could. He turned to face Tywin and set his harp down with a gentle clatter and a slight titter it dropped to the ground. Rhaegar did not look away from Tywin, and maintained eye contact.

“You seem well, Lord Tywin. I see that your daughter is as charming as you have said before.” Rhaegar said, this time less warm. He did not wish to unsettle the poor girl, but he could not allow weakness to show among the Lannister Lord.

“I am well enough, as are my people. The Westerlands persevere, and prosper, even under the yoke of these new taxes of which I have recently received word.” Tywin arched an eyebrow. “I hear tell it was your suggestion, actually.” He was speaking as conversationally as he might about the weather to his steward, and somehow that was more menacing than he would be had he been shouting.

“I see you are well aware of what happens in the Council even when away, Lord Lannister. My father was indeed right to select you as Hand of the King. Though it was not my intention for my father to actually go through with it at all. It is as you are well aware of in the Crownlands, Lord Lannister. There are those who would defy my father’s word and those who feel that your power is far greater than his is. The Darklyns have also been refusing to pay their taxes even if we have already lightened the load.” Rhaegar said with a nervous glance. “There are those who say my father should ask of your counsel to settle this yet he does not. Why is this, Lord Tywin?”

“I can only guess it is because of the words of a fool, whose tongue your father has already taken,” Tywin responded, “And rightfully so, for those words were lies, of course. I am but a loyal servant of the Iron Throne. But are you familiar, at all, with banking, my prince? The good men of the Iron Bank of Braavos would not tell you how they decide these things, but in my infinite desire to see you grow into a good king, I shall. Besides a servant of the throne, Prince Rhaegar, I am also one of its creditors. I have invested, to date, well over a million golden dragons into the continued smooth functioning of the realm, as the Master of Coin can surely tell you. But when I see the Crown raise the taxes of its most prosperous subjects, that tells me, as a ‘banker’, if you will, that its ability to pay its debts in good order is less than I had believed.” Tywin arched that eyebrow again, leaning back a little in his chair. “The usual procedure in such a case is to raise the interest rates, or to foreclose.” He stopped to let that sink in.

“And such is not at all what I intended, and nor would I desire it to happen at all. The problem is now my father refuses to hear another word. I do not know if you are aware, but my father picked up a strange Mummer from Essos, I am not sure if you know about him, but he’s the Eunuch that now sits on my father’s court.” Rhaegar asked as he looked at Tywin with a grim expression.

“I know well of this Lord Varys,” Tywin replied, “And of the stories already spreading of his skill as Master of Whispers. I am sure you already suspect how many walls have my eyes in them.” He did not add that such suspicions would almost certainly be underestimations. “But your father has this tendency of believing whatever he is told convincingly enough. You and I are both intelligent men, my prince, are we not?”

“I would like to think so, but still I cannot outwit that, Varys? He called himself Varys to you? He calls himself Rugen around me. He cannot even tell us the same name!” Rhaegar shook his head in frustration. “I do not trust this mummer of questionable origins, but my father truly believes he is trustworthy. As of late, my father has set his eyes upon Lord Baratheon, but also upon you. It is only a matter of time, Lord Tywin before my father does what he has been doing in the Stormlands to your people. I recommend utmost caution especially when my father is in a mood.”

Rhaegar knew well of how terribly angry his father could get when he was in a bad mood. When he was younger he would see it less often, but when they happened they were absolutely horrible. He would hide under his bed, his large lilac colored eyes filled with tears as he heard his mother and father screaming at one another in angry shadows upon the wall as there was crashing and then the sound of breaking glass and sometimes even broken limbs. Always the same excuses were made, ‘she fell down the stairs’, ‘Rhaella is clumsy’, ‘it was another accident with the bookladder’ a likely story.

It was harder to explain when it was the young prince of Dragonstone who in his time of trying to learn to become a ‘hero’ like he read in his tales and books. He had forgotten that he was merely a boy, small and frail like any other child against a full-grown man. As he was slammed against a wall he felt the nasty crack that made his arm go numb and he learned those times never to cross his father when he was angry or in any mood. He didn’t care if he hurt his precious heir at all, and if it was in his interest or if it was expedient, he wondered at times if his own father would go beyond a mere cruel strike.

Rhaegar crossed his arms as he looked away from Tywin and took a step toward the view off the banister and tried to think of the right words to express what he meant, but there wasn’t really a way to convey this kind of situation.

“My father is... hot tempered like a dragon, Lord Lannister. With the wrong type of temper it could lead to incredibly difficult situations for us all.”

Tywin suspected it was rather more than a mere hot temper. He had a temper, as Lords Reyne and Tarbeck had discovered to their peril. Aerys was different. “I understand your situation, my prince,” Tywin said, stepping through the gate, moving closer to stand beside Rhaegar, looking out over the center of the arena where knights were already practicing. “But you must also understand mine. My father would have meekly accepted this, not wanting to make waves. I am not my father. Lannisport and her lands already contribute more to the crown than any other of the kingdoms besides arguably the Reach. It will appear... unseemly to my vassals. Contrary to popular belief, I do not especially relish incidents like Castamere, though I do what I must.”

“I imagined this to be the case Lord Tywin, but the circumstances I deal with are perhaps a touch different. You see my father believes...” He stopped for a moment and shook his head. “I mustn’t say a word. It is beyond my station to question my father’s motives, but somehow...”

Tywin looked at him. “Yes?”

“My father wishes to possess the respect and dignity with which you carry yourself, Lord Tywin. The problem being that he does not understand ruthlessness and fear without love or respect earns you nothing but the hate of your subjects. I believe this to be the case, but I beg that you tell my father nothing of what I have said. He will kill me.” Rhaegar said with a nervous glance. He was perhaps trusting Lord Tywin far too much and realized far too late.

Tywin seemed to soften, though he filed this away. The prince had opened a door, and the lion would hold it open with at least a paw, for certain. “I have, perhaps, a solution to this. Someday you will be king, Rhaegar, but before that happens you need to survive the rest of your father’s life. If I aid you in this, and keep my tongue, you must aid me in turn. It would be the honorable thing to do, yes?”

“I do not deny that there’s a need for reciprocity in such an arrangement, yes.” Rhaegar said with a nod.

Tywin glanced down at Cersei, still sitting nearby. “Go play with Jaime, dear,” he said with a smile, “The prince and I need to talk. I’m sure he’ll be here a few days and you can spend more time with him later.”

“Yes, father,” she said, hopping up and scampering off.

Once she was gone, Tywin glanced around, ensuring there were no other ears to hear. “I will pay these taxes, like a good little hedge-lord would,” Tywin replied, “And if I need crush those below me again I will do so. But between us, as men, as anointed knights under the Seven, they will be a loan. I won’t charge interest on this, but it will be due upon your coronation. Further, I would serve as your Hand as I do your father. And there is one more thing, that I think should demonstrate to all the close amity between your House and mine.”

“Another thing, you ask? I am willing to listen and consider what you say, but I must know all the terms and conditions before I make a decision.” Rhaegar said as he watched Cersei climb down the stairs of the large arena.

“Your family traditionally weds brother to sister,” Tywin noted, “Yet you have no sister to wed, and even if your mother bore a daughter tomorrow, you would be nearly thrice her age by the time she was a woman. I would join my House to yours, and betrothe Cersei to you. The political advantages to you in this would be immense.”

“A... political marriage, so to speak?” Rhaegar asked with a raised eyebrow. He was not really surprised that Tywin would ask such a thing, but he remembered that the biggest problem with this sort of arrangement was that he would have to seek the approval of his father, and clearly this would be a nightmare to attempt to convince him. “I am not sure if it is my power to make such an arrangement, but I certainly will bring it up with my father. It is his decision ultimately, but I will certainly try to see what I can do.”

While he said those words there was a sinking feeling in his heart as he was not sure he would manage to convince his father at the moment because his father did not trust Tywin any further than he could throw a horse. And he certainly was not going to listen to his words, so Rhaegar might have to use his cleverness to get his mother to attempt to convince his father of such an arrangement. This would be a rather roundabout way of doing so, but if it worked perhaps he would have less reason to really distrust Tywin, or worse, more reasons to fear him as he would be his father in law. The thought for a moment terrified him.

“Give me a few days, and I will see if I am able, Lord Tywin.” Rhaegar said with the strange sense of obligation building as far off in the City Gates the King, Aerys II was approaching the Tourney grounds, and not a moment too soon.

Tywin smiled. He had anticipated this, of course. “If you want my advice,” the Lannister Lord replied, “I would approach your mother, as I’ve heard occasionally your father actually listens to her. Your father has these doubts about me because of rumors that he has heard. What would squelch those rumors more effectively than a union of Houses? Certainly there can be no greater and more public gesture of unity and loyalty. It may also help if you frame it as if it was your idea. Give words like those to her, and she might well be able to help you make this happen. And it must happen, we both know it, as we both serve the realm.”

“I do see the reason and practicality behind such wo--Lord Tywin I do believe that is the trumpets announcing the coming of my father and my mother. I must go greet them and assure them of my well-being.” Rhaegar said with an apprehensive glance. “I am not sure if you have heard, but my father and his Kingsguard did separate from me and I was left with no one but my good friend Ser Ragnar Gaunt as an accompaniment. I am not sure if this was deliberate or not, but I was accosted by highwaymen on my way here shortly after. I must quickly reassure my family that we are safe.”

Tywin paused a moment, and nodded, the royal trumpets faint on the breeze, but he certainly heard them. “Of course, my prince. Don’t let me keep you. I look forward to hearing of your success in our agreement. Give my warm regards to your royal parents.”

“Aye, Lord Tywin.” Rhaegar said with a nod as he continued to walk toward the squire who had finished polishing his armor.

Time to face the music... Rhaegar thought as he went back to the City Gates on his way to greet his father.

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

Cowritten with Houses Lannister, Greyjoy, Wylde, and Gaunt

At the Gates of Lannisport
The Westerlands

The sun was still shining when the Silver Prince went toward the gate to meet his mother and father at the gates of Lannisport. While Banners of the lion ramparts waved mockingly at the Dragon banners of the Targaryen Escort. The Knights of the City Watch had already greeted his Majesty in their gold trimmed armor. Queen Rhaella was at wits end as she realized soon after they had left Lord Harroway's Town on the Trident that her gentle son Rhaegar had been left behind with not even one Kingsguard to watch over him. Her long hair was tied in a long braid and her crown rested upon her head gently as her deep purple eyes were filled with anxiety. Her long dress was ornate with glimmering garnets sequined into the dress lining.

The Queen then looked out of her carriage and spotted him. The feeling that something could be wrong with her precious son brought with it feelings of nausea and nerves which all went away when she saw his visage passing before her carriage as he walked before her and her husband and knelt in apology. He had his mother's eyes, the warm Valyrian eyes ennobled by the Targaryen blood in his veins. His long wispy locks of silver hair were still well and unharmed as his black armor gleamed in the sunlight. She resisted the urge to rush and hug him as her husband, the King, did not at all seem pleased.

"Rhaegar, where were you?" King Aerys II said with a snap, the cold words gutting the young Targaryen prince who knelt before his father and he tried to restrain his feeling of shame.

"I apologize for my unwillingness to conform by my father's wishes of arriving at his inn at dawn. I was unaware that my Father, my King, had already left when he had. I would have gone with my honored family had I known, but I had fallen asleep in a gully." Rhaegar said, which was partially true, and partially false. He might as well have fallen asleep in a gully. It would have made little difference. His being left behind was a massive risk of his life, and his father's dynasty. "I apologize for my lack of responsibility father."

"Rhaegar, you have become more and more impetuous in your youth and in the way you demand to be among the smallfolk and servants. You are going to be king one day, and I cannot have you engaging in more rabble rousing while you are entering manhood. I have taught you the ways of the Targaryen history and our happiness is one that derives from our heritage and honor. Will you honor me, Rhaegar?"

"Above all things, my Father." Rhaegar said with a bow of his head.

"Good, now rise and greet your mother. You have worried her well enough." Aerys said with a grim look as Rhaella quickly embraced her son.

"Oh my son, my baby boy." She said as she nuzzled her son warmly. "Please do not do that again. You could be killed."

"Yes, Mother." Rhaegar said to his mother with a gentle hug. "Mother..."

"Yes, my dear?" She said as she looked at her child, he seemed to want to talk to her more, but not in the presence of everyone else. She intuitively nodded and spoke to her son with the grace of the Queen of Love and Beauty. "We shall speak in the Guest Rooms where your father and I shall have a room each. We will speak freely if you've the time."

"Thank you mother." Rhaegar said gently. “I will help you and father with directing the men to carry your things.”

Rhaella and Aerys were given a room in the fortress of Casterly Rock overlooking the harbor of Lannisport and the Sunset Sea. It is the seat of House Lannister carved out of a great stone hill and its natural defenses are further enhanced with walls and other structures. Rhaegar’s footsteps echoed in the halls as he followed his mother upon the beautiful marbled floors past the golden gallery. He was led to a red room filled with glorious tapestries on the wall and an enormous bed with a warm canopy with beautiful lacquer wood furniture.

There was a mirror which the queen used to release her braid, and her silvery hair fell out in ripples as she looked into the mirror, seeing her young son behind her. The queen was still a beautiful woman, tall and regal with a refined sense of dignity and tiny hands and feet, with the same large and gentle violet eyes that her son had. She saw however his eyes were laden with sadness and concern and as she removed her crown she shut the door and sat upon the soft satin sheets of her bed she kissed her dear son on the cheek and stroked his cheek with her gentle hand.

“You’ve grown so big. I remember when you were just a tiny thing holding onto Mummy’s hand because you were afraid of the darkness in the closet and under your bed. Now you’re a man, fighting in a great tourney in your father’s honor, leading your own treks into the great lands of your father’s Kingdom.” Queen Rhaella said as Rhaegar sat upon the bed next to his mother. “Yet with such bravery you cannot hide your feelings from your mother. Tell me what ails you, my son.”

Rhaegar lie upon the bed and Rhaella stroked his long hair gently and lovingly as he said nothing for a moment and then took a deep breath and spoke, uncertain and in a small voice.

“Mother, you do love father, don’t you?” Rhaegar asked as he looked up at her with those sad violet eyes. She was taken aback by the question and immediately cleared her throat and tried to keep her composure.

“Your father is King of the Seven Kingdoms. He is my brother, and the father of my precious son.” She said to Rhaegar and he looked at her reproachfully.

“You did not answer my question, and you always do. This, to me, speaks volumes.” Rhaegar said with a sigh. “Why did you and father marry? I know of traditions and I know of the Targaryen dynasty, but I also know Great Grandfather Aegon the Fifth married for love your father Jaehaerys the second also married out of love, as did Uncle Duncan and Aunt Rhaelle. And yet you and father were arranged to marry, but why not out of love like Grandfather Aegon or others?”

“It is a complicated story, Rhaegar...” She said with a sad look, as she did know well that Aerys once too desired to marry for love as she did, but the prophecy demanded that they be wed, and their marriage was a complicated and painful affair. Each day was a struggle as the two of them couldn’t reconcile their lack of fondness and affection. “Your father was special and was chosen to carry the lineage along with me, but why has this come up all of a sudden?”

“Mother, I have caused strife for the people of my father’s Kingdom unintentionally, and now I owe a debt. I am considering joining the Lannister’s House with ours, and marrying Cersei in the name of protecting the interests of my father’s kingdom and its prosperity. The political advantages it would have for me would be great... but mother, I do not know if it is the right decision for me, or if father would even entertain the idea.” Rhaegar said with a small voice.

“You are certain you wish to do such a thing? I do not know if this is a good thing to bring up in Casterly Rock, your father has... Well...” Rhaella stopped as she pondered the words to describe it, but he could not.

She remembered the ghosts of happiness and the ghosts of sadness that lingered and haunted Aerys and they also seemed to haunt Rhaella as well. As she looked at her son with deep fondness, her thoughts went to the lonely King who entered the old catacombs as mother and son discussed. He carried a white rose in his hand, and stood over a grave and placed the rose over it and sobbed bitter tears of his own as he remembered Joanna, her smile, her eyes which seemed to always be laughing at some untold joke. Her long golden locks would bounce in the wind as they would laugh together along with the glum Tywin and his sister Rhaella in those times where she did not recoil from his touch and loved him as she should, as a brother.

The quiet sobs echoed throughout the catacombs as Aerys bitterly thought of the life they would have had if he hadn’t been forced to marry Rhaella and if he got to choose Joanna as his queen. Instead of the dour and treacherous son, perhaps he’d have a happy bouncing heir with the cunning of Joanna, loyalty of a Lannister, and his own strength of will. He’d hold Joanna each night and tell her how much he loved her. They’d laugh and smile as the night would come and she’d share his bed happily and he’d wake up each morning with a different appreciation of Rhaella. He’d be her doting protective brother again. As he heard the shudder of stone and scurrying of a rat he came back to the reality of his life.

Tywin had taken Joanna from him, Tywin was trying to take his Kingdom from him. Tywin was turning his son against him. Tywin would take and take and how long would it be until he had nothing left? Would Tywin take his life? He was not sure, but he knew that there was a gap, a void in his life he couldn’t fill. There was a broken heart hidden in the depths of madness as he felt fear with everything he loved slipping away. He went out of the catacombs and went up the stairs. He went through the beautiful halls and saw the little deformed thing that wandered the halls. Tywin would recoil in disgust, seeing the murderer of Joanna and Aerys saw it as the ultimate expression of the corruption Tywin brought upon Joanna. He leaned over and unspeaking, he pat the boy on the head, seeing his mother’s deep and far seeing eyes. He broke his silence patting the boy and his voice was blank and emotionless.

“You will be great one day, Tyrion. Great like your mother was.” He said to the Imp, but he couldn’t look at the boy without seeing Joanna and what he had lost to Tywin. The Maidens who tended to the boy whisked him out of the King’s sight and he could not help but feel an ounce of resentment, but not for the boy. His resentment went back to Tywin. As he wandered the halls to the room Tywin said he would offer him, he took a moment to consider what he would say to Tywin about the Tourney held in his honor. He thought to himself about the warriors who would define themselves in the battlefield. For a moment he imagined his own dour bookish boy being pummeled by Lannister squires and the image made him laugh. He passed Rhaella’s room and took a deep breath as he looked into the room Tywin had prepared for him.

“Suitable.” He said as the servants brought in his things.

Rhaegar saw his father passing by and immediately squirmed. He felt ice in his veins as he imagined how his mother would approach him about the situation. Rhaella could not help but feel this would not be a good idea. She saw Aerys in his room and with his booming voice he called for the stewards to bring him more wine. Rhaegar looked at his mother and she stood over him and kissed him gently on the forehead and brushed her hand on his cheek.

“I will speak to your father, and I will make sure he understands. I make no promises, but I know that there will be more you will be able to do for the Kingdom than just marry yourself off. You are a wise and strong young man. You will be able to do whatever you put your heart into.” Queen Rhaella said as Rhaegar got to his feet and bowed and left his mother’s chambers.

The melancholic prince sauntered his way back out of Casterly Rock and he made his way back to Lannisport, hoping that his mother would be able to speak to his father through the madness. He headed toward the tourney grounds and upon passing through the general practice area, he took a practice wooden sword and began to strike a straw man set up for the occasion. He concentrated as he tried to keep his mind on the future opponents he tried to prepare for.

“White hair...” Ivron said as he approached, flanked by some of his corsairs. The noble corsair stood at nearly two metres tall, broad-shouldered and weathered by a life at sea. His coal-black hair and beard was decorated with simple iron brooches. It deeply contrasted to the silvery haired clean shaven Prince of Dragonstone. “pale skin, soft hands, freakish eyes and scrawnyness... You’re a Targaryan aren’t you, boy?”

Rhaegar turned around and looked at the man whose mocking voice stung like bitter acid from the tongue of an asp. He narrowed his eyes as he was about to speak but saw that he was not alone. Several men looked at him as he lowered his wooden sword and scowled.

“Cats got your tongue, boy?” Ivron continued. The rest of the ironborn were smiling. They had not been disarmed upon entering the city, and their swords and axes were readily visible. “Answer, boy. You are a Targaryen?”

“You do not command me, creature. I am beyond you in any sort of matter. I shall not dignify you with any such response.” Rhaegar said as he turned away from his opponent, or so it looked like this was the case. His senses were heightened and he felt adrenaline shoot through his hands and he felt his heart skip a beat as it sped like a racer jumping hurdles. He could see they were armed when he observed their disgusting visages. They looked like a group of brigands. Barbarians, but they were not. As he saw the shield insignia he knew that they were Greyjoys.

Ragnar stood a few feet from the Prince of Dragonstone, his dark indigo eyes and silvery hair did also seem to look Targaryen, but he was a Gaunt. The strangeness of Ragnar was something that Rhaegar did not give much thought to, but as the Greyjoys seemed to goad him into some sort of response, he merely reached for his longsword and clasped it in his hand. He put it on his swordbelt and Ragnar would be able to notice the prince from his position.

Ragnar did indeed notice the Prince was in trouble from the looks of things. He turned from the person he was training with and began to jog over toward the Prince. He dropped the training sword he was using and moved his hand down toward his Valaryian steel sword Lance and said “My Prince are these Greyjoy dogs bothering you? I could remove them for you wish.” and in a louder tone said “And I am sure the rest of the Knights here would Gladly aid their prince should someone be foolish enough to attack the heir to the throne.”

“No, Ragnar, let us not be at the worry over barking stray dogs. There’s no reason we should pay them any regard as there’s no merit in considering a Greyjoy anything more than a spec of dirt in the rolling sea.” Rhaegar said as he looked at the Greyjoys with a regal and confident expression and then looked down on them.

“Boy!” Ivron said, grinning now, his scars forming a rather crude grimace “You are Rhaegar Targaryen? Future king of Westeros, and spoiled brat hardly weaned off his mothers milk?”

Ragnar laughed but continued toward Rhaegar and responded “A wise dog would not continue to bark while it is surrounded and outnumbered.” All around them the Knights who were training on the ground turned to look toward the Prince and the Greyjoys most having their hands on their sword hilts “Now run along before you get hurt scum. Run back to your rock and do not return or I will not let you walk away next time you insult my Prince.”

“Now, gentlemen, surely it is unnecessary to become all upset over a simple flea on the great ass of the Kingdom of Westeros. There’s no need to bother with addressing them with blades of steel.” Rhaegar said with a frown. “Though, you know who I am, who in the seven hells are you?”

“I am captain Ivron Greyjoy, princeling,” Ivron said, the ironborn looking at the surrounding knights a bit nervously, but Ivron’s expression had not changed. “I doubt you have heard of me. The nobility do love to send their peasants to die by Ironborn blade rather than fight us themselves.”

Ragnar laughed and said “That’s because you attack the smallfolk and run like cowards! Unlike your pathetic rock we have more land to cover, but if its a fight you want I will surely give one to you dog.”

“Wait... you are Ivron Greyjoy? I know of you. I’ve sworn an oath to one day return pain onto you in full. Ragnar, stand down. This one will be mine, but I will make sure every man witnesses his shame. You have entered the Tourney or are you too cowardly to fight with real honor and instead resort to targeting women and smallfolk?” Rhaegar asked with a disgusted look.

“I have entered the melee.” Ivron said, simply “I relish the thought of bashing in the skulls of greenlander nobles. Now... why, exactly, have you sworn to return pain unto me? Which pain, in particular, are you talking about, boy?”

“I shall tell you when I dance upon your corpse Greyjoy.” the Targaryen Prince said with a cool snap of a sharp tongue. “But you will know when I return the pain unto you for a fair lady’s honor. I will make sure she watches and cheers as I bring you down.”

“A fair lady?” Ivron asked, then realization dawned “Ah, you are talking about my beloved wife. How cruel, to slay a man in front of his wife.”

“Do not dare speak of her as such. You will feel the sting of a Targaryen’s Valyrian steel Greyjoy. One way or another.” The prince said as he looked away.

“I am afraid he is my husband your highness”, Helenia walked towards the group, her “guard” followed behind her, she looked between Ivron and Rhaegar, “ I do so hope that you both do not fight on my behalf, because one of you loathes me and the other should be quite above fighting such a man.”

“Oh, hello dear,” Ivron said, still smiling but with a tone dripping of resentment “I fear loathing can’t summarise my feelings for you, and the princeling here doesn’t seem to be above fighting anyone.”

“I am a Knight, and I will defend the honor of those who cannot defend it themselves. I am sworn to protect women and children and I have been anointed before the Seven to stand for and defend my faith, and I will, on behalf of the Maiden, deliver justice where it is due.” Rhaegar said with a disgusted look at Ivron.

He then looked at Helenia with a softened expression. His eyes which were narrowed met hers and he held out a necklace in his hand and offered it to Helenia. “This is something I had wanted to give you earlier, but I lost track of you while I was giving a welcome to my father and mother, and while I was preparing for the Tourney where I WILL fight in the melee as I have sworn on behalf of my father and honor.” The gold chain was lovely and it possessed the spiral maelstrom of the Wyldes. An heirloom that belonged to her. Rhaegar had found it when they were accosted by the Highwaymen and it was thought that they had taken it, but Rhaegar kept it safe and with a gentle hand, he returned it.

“My mother’s necklace...”, she held it in her good hand gazing down at it she looked at the dark blues and greens and the flecks of gold and smiled, “thank you for returning it to me, your highness, I-I can not to begin to tell you how it’s loss made me feel...”

“It is yours, and I am happy to return it, but I will not stand by and watch this injustice.” Rhaegar said behind gritted teeth. “Ivron Greyjoy, I will see you in the melee.”

“Rhaegar Targaryen, I will bash your pretty face in in the melee.” Ivron replied, and left with his entourage in tow. The first mate of the Storm’s End looked amused, but still remained close to Helenia.

Not far away, up in the front row of the stands, a little girl was standing leaning on the railing, resting her chin on her arms and gazing at Rhaegar with a smile on her face. She looked up suddenly at the sound of laughter as her twin brother wandered up.

“Oooooooh,” Jaime mocked with a grin, “Cersei’s in looooove.” He brought his hands up to his shoulder and leaned his head on them in an imitation of a lovesick girl. “Oh, that Rhaegar, he’s so dreeeeamy...” He grinned. “Are you going to get married?”

Cersei glared at him, resting her hands on her hips. “Stop it! And for your information, I don’t think I’d mind that one bit. He’s a knight and a prince and I’d be a queen, and he’s kind and gentle and gallant and you’re just being a meanie. You’re meaner than that Greyjoy.” With that, Cersei turned and stomped off... though not very far. She didn’t really want to lose sight of Rhaegar.

Helenia stared at the necklace and her eyes misted with tears but she held them back, “Well then...I shall find it difficult to watch the battle, but I will if I must” she curtsied to Rhaegar and then looked back at the first mate, “ we should find a place to watch, perhaps there will be food or a loose woman on the way for you”

“There will be time for us to worry about the Tourney when all of the warriors arrive, and when they do, we will meet in the field of honor.” Rhaegar said to Helenia. “If I am to win, and you desire me to spare him, I will.”

Helenia looked back at Rhaegar and spoke simply, “Your highness the Greyjoys have a much different kind of honor than you or I were raised with, he will not hesitate to kill you...as far as I’m concerned your highness my husband deserves pain but...not death, at least not by your hand”

The first mate coughed, seemingly forgotten by the two nobles, and said: “I doubt you could slay him, your highness, even if you intended to. And lady Wylde, I’d... suggest not wearing that necklace when we leave.”

Helenia turned quickly and glared at the first mate, “If your foolish captain does slay the prince what do you think will become of the Iron Isles the greenlanders will fall upon you like waves on a child’s sandcastle, look around you fool, you think your long boats are even capable of doing anything at this moment to the Lannisters? Ivron Greyjoy leads you all to a cliff! We should have left to go back to Pyke as the Lord Reaper ordered, you think Ivron will leave the grounds alive if the Prince fell? you think any of you will? I do not think you are a fool you would not have lived so long without some wisdom!”

The first mate smiled “Few would call an ironborn a fool to his face, Lady Wylde. Mostly other Ironborn.” the older man crossed his arms, and continued “You misunderstand. I said I doubt the princeling would be able to slay Captain Greyjoy, not that Captain Greyjoy would kill the princeling. My guess is he’ll be content to humiliate him. No man commands an ironborn ship without being a dangerous man.” the first mate stopped for a second, then added “Or woman.”

“ I am glad to hear you have sense, I am sorry for my insult it was uncalled for, I have no quarrel with you sir, your captain on the other hand...well that is another matter entirely” Helenia sighed and leaned against a fence, “Also I suppose I am not Lady Wylde anymore am I, I am Lady Greyjoy and a poor one so far I’d wager...blast, I will learn and learn quickly mark me, now then shall we find a place to watch so you can laugh at the greenlanders?”

“Well, then, Lady ‘Greyjoy’,” the first mate said, unconvinced “The first step would be doing away with that necklace. You have not paid the Iron Price.”

“You keep nothing from family?” Helenia looked at the necklace sadly, “I will rid myself of it once we set sail...it is a maelstrom after all I suppose it belongs in the sea...what is the next step?”

“The next step?” the first mate said, smiling, and not the jeering grin Helenia had seen earlier “My, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? Give yourself to the Drowned God. On Pyke, I can get a Drowned Man, if you want, Lady ‘Greyjoy’.”

“The Drowned God...hmm how do you give yourself to him, I was raised in a faith that would be considered a blasphemy, does the Drowned God accept converts?” she was genuine in her questions truly wanting to learn about her new culture.

“That he does,” the first mate answered, a bit surprised at Helenia’s willingness to join the drowned flock “Ivron does not sail with a Drowned Man, so it will have to wait. Considering the Lord Reaper, it would probably be the healthiest for you to convert as soon as we get there.”

Helenia nodded and then stopped for a moment, “I...would it be possible for me to learn how to fight?” she looked at the first mate with an embarrassed glance, “I have never been trained but when we were attacked by the Highwaymen I...well I slashed at them with a dagger I had stolen, it felt...good”

“Hmmpfh,” the first mate said, looking at Helenia, closer than earlier, seemingly gauging her. He scratched his chin, thoughtfully, before saying “I suppose. You will probably be in the Storm’s End, I could get someone to give you lessons.” he hesitated for a moment, then said “Harsh lessons.”

Helenia raised her hand and showed him her iron finger and smiled, “I expect nothing less”

Rhaegar watched and shook his head as he felt it was his duty to interject. He had heard all manner of cruelty being inflicted upon her, but she was a highborn lady. She did not have to be subject to such things at all.

“Miss Wylde it is important to remember who you really are. You need not comply to this nonsense that the Greyjoys have pushed upon you. Your faith is of the Seven, and they are trying to make you into something you aren’t. You are your own person. Are you willing to throw it all away? The gifts of your past, the life in your future? Your father is a person that can be reasoned with. Merely consult Robert Baratheon and appeal on behalf of your own future. Surely if your father wishes to toss you at a highborn lord, you would do better than this sort.” Rhaegar said as he shook his head. “If you wish to fight, isn’t it more important for you to fight the most important battle? The battle for your own identity, your own future?”

The first mate looked at Rhaegar, resentment visible in his old eyes, and he simply said: “Her choice. She’s lucky. Not many get to choose.”

Helenia turned and smiled weakly, “ I do not get to choose, my father has sent word that if I do not accept this marriage or try to leave it, my father will disown me, he would rather that House Wylde just end then to go on dishonored he managed to have the Lord Reaper agree to the marriage not as a saltwife but as Ivron’s rockwife...I am in a position where I have no choice but to become a Greyjoy.”

“Could be worse,” the first mate said with a grin “You could be forced to become a Humble.”

The Towers of Casterly Rock
The Westerlands

The rooms were the largest and most luxurious in all of Casterly Rock, short of Tywin’s own, and that was saying something, as there was a great deal of rooms to choose from. They had a wonderful view of both the city and the sea, spread out like a carpet; everything was gold-streaked marble and carven wood and rugs so plush your feet sank into them. Certainly fit for any king, though Aerys might have been overcome with some jealousy had he actually seen Tywin’s chambers... even though Casterly Rock had been the seat of kings itself not so very long ago.

Aerys sat in his room with several bottles by his bed. Over half of them were empty as his breath was strong with the scent of wine. He lie on his bed looking up at the high ceiling, not expecting for anyone to interrupt him in his silent reverie. He took another gulp while watching his door with a sense of mild paranoia as his head was dazed with the drink. He began to feel sick and dizzy. He jerked nervously at the sounds of footsteps in the hall as he took his bottle in hand and gripped it with tight white knuckles. Holding the bottle he prepared to hurl it if anyone came without announcing themselves.

A knock came at the door. Aerys quickly fumbled from his bed and stumbled over as he reached for the hinge and opened it. He was quite a sight. His facial hair was coming in scraggly his hair was a mess tied back and his eyes looked wild and angry.

“Who goes there?” He said holding the bottle in his hand.

Behind the door was one of Aerys’ own servants. “Y-your Grace... the... the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister, to see you,” he stammered, not particularly wanting to lose his tongue or be burned alive, as had happened to more than a few of his predecessors.

“Hmph...” He said only accompanied by a groan as he grabbed his crown and put it on crookedly and walked out following the servant with a wobbly gait. No one dare mention it as he was a rather mean drunk.

Tywin was in the foyer, standing near the door. As Aerys entered, Tywin certainly noticed his state -- he missed little in any case -- but did not give any sign of it, let alone actually mention it. He bowed his head with all the dignity of a formal audience before the Iron Throne. “Your Grace,” he said, “I trust you’ve found things suitable here?”

“Aye.... suitable. I say it is suitable and it is so. Where’s the little Jaime? I liked that Lad, he always seemed to know where he was going... I think. Then again Lord Tywin I don’t really know where I am going so perhaps you could direct me. Why am I here?” He said with a confused look.

“Aye, Jaime knows where he’s going.” Tywin smiled proudly for a moment at that. “He’s at the arena serving as a page for the tourney... and the tourney is why you are here, Your Grace. The tourney that we your humble subjects here in Lannisport are holding in your honor.”

“No smoke and Mirrors Tywin, I know I’m here for some other reason and you just... is that potpourri? I hate bloody potpourri. Joanna hated it too, bloody hell Tywin, what the fuck...” He grabbed the potpourri and threw it on the floor and took a small flint stone he loved playing with and scraped it on the wall to see if it’d spark. To his disappointment it did not spark and he tried to look for a knife and grabbed Tywin to look for one.

“Where’s your dagger Tywin, I want to have a light.” He said half paying attention.

“Your Grace,” Tywin said patiently, “If you burn it, it will just make the smell stronger. I will have it removed at once.”

“Tywin you salty flea bitten cat, I’m not caring that you have a bloody potpourri, I want a light. I said a LIGHT damn it I don’t care about the smell inasmuch as it is not ash. I like ash.” Aerys seemed to be a bit dizzy as he massaged his temples and leaned over. He looked at the flowerpot and rushed to it as he threw up and barely held his hair back. He wiped his mouth with a bit of drapery before passing out on the ground, FLUMP right into the pile of potpourri.

Tywin sighed quietly. So this was the depths to which the crown of Westeros had fallen. He glanced to the servant. “Fetch the maester if you would. He should have something to bring His Grace around.”

The servant nodded, “Yes, my lord,” and off he scampered.

The Queen came down the stairs slowly as her soft steps seemed to barely make a sound on the echoing floor. She saw her husband on the floor and looked surprised at Tywin as she quickly took a half step back. Her eyes were wide and she gasped as she saw Aerys sprawled on the ground.

“W-What has happened?” She said with a look at Tywin reproachfully as she leaned over Aerys who was still on the ground. His breath smelled of vomit and alcohol and he looked like he had been dumped in some sort of potpourri.

“Your Grace,” Tywin greeted her, ever collected, with another bow of the head. “Your royal husband has, if I had to guess, had a bit of a nightcap, and it doesn’t appear to have agreed with him. The maester will be up shortly.”

“Ah, well... yes.” Rhaella said with a hint of relief. For a moment she had worried that Tywin had perhaps poisoned the fool, but apparently he was merely beginning his ‘merrymaking’ far too early. He was somehow deeply unhappy, however. That much she understood. She swat her husband on the nose and he waved her hand aside and he merely looked like he would be sick once more, and Rhaella looked at Tywin with a sigh. “Do you perhaps have something that I can use to clean his face, he’s a mess.”

“I am not a mess...” Aerys mumbled barely.

Tywin, for his part, agreed -- in that he was certainly not about to be the one to tell the Mad King that he is a mess. “I am sure his servant will see to him when he returns with the maester. He seems a diligent young man.” Tywin smiled lightly.

“Yes, I’m sure. Tywin, are you sure you are well? It is deeply worrying that you have not spoken of your...” She didn’t want to say the word as it would make Aerys snap up in anger, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Rhaella then whispered and leaned to Tywin’s ear and whispered. “Your Wife, Lord Tywin, are you alright?”

Tywin sighed. “It was not something I especially wanted to bring up.” He glanced down at Aerys a moment and gently ushered Rhaella into the next room. “I well know His Grace does not.... take kindly to the subject.”

“He was fond of your wife, and I knew they were good friends Lord Tywin, I imagine he is very sad and understands your pain. Aerys is... he’s just like other men in that he does try to be the unmovable stone, but I know that you two were friends once too, and I wonder what it is that has gotten him frustrated so.” Rhaella asked Tywin carefully examining his expressions.

“I wish I knew, my lady,” Tywin replied. “I know he was very fond of Joanna. I dearly hope that our marriage didn’t contribute to driving His Grace and I apart. I know he is not happy, your Grace, and I know that you are not happy either. If there is one thing I could wish for our children, it is that they could be happy. Truly happy.”

Rhaella was taken aback, because for all the time she had watched her son grow, he was always rather melancholic. Always seemed to be sad, and always deeply troubled and bearing burdens he was too young to carry. She had a hard time envisioning Rhaegar as ‘happy’ but the thought of him being happy was a seductive idea. She remembered the words Rhaegar had spoken to her about ‘love’ and ‘duty’ and she realized it was another moment where Rhaegar was acting as an agent of ‘duty’ instead of building his own sense of fondness. She knew what kind of relationship that could bring. She looked back instinctively to where Aerys was left behind.

“I know you want what is best for your daughter and sons, I will also do what is best for mine. Rhaegar is still impressionable, and I know he is still learned for his age but he is a boy.” Rhaella said defensively.

Tywin leaned against the window-frame thoughtfully for a moment. “Have you ever seen two people just fit, your Grace?” he asked. “Cersei had never met Rhaegar in person before this morning, but I watched them sitting together like they’d known each other all their lives. She was drawn to him, my lady, and he to her. It’s a silly thing, perhaps, he’s almost twice her age, but when I left the arena to return to Casterly Rock she was still tagging along with him. I ask because Joanna and I were always very happy together, and we met in similar fashion.”

“I would imagine this is so Lord Tywin, Rhaegar is ever a charming boy. Your daughter is a lovely girl and will grow up to be a Highborn Lady, but the question is, the one I struggle with, is will he be happy? Will my husband the King allow such a thing? I have pondered it, and I will ask him what he thinks is best, and then if we disagree... there’s ways women can get things that men cannot do.” Rhaella said as she looked toward the door. “And the Maester looking after my husband, I forgot to ask, is he a friend of Pycelle’s?”

“I’m not sure that one even knows Pycelle,” Tywin remarked, “He was requested as a replacement to serve here when I brought Pycelle with me to King’s Landing. But I suppose anything’s possible, why?”

“I’ve seen him before, he looks familiar. I do like to see familiar faces looking after my brother. This is beside my concerns. Tywin, I hope we will be able to make some sort of progress with my husband, but pushing him will not make him decide faster on whom he shall ‘auction’ my son off too.” Rhaella said with a glum look.

“I promise you, my lady, that I will be the last one who would dream of pushing your husband. Between us,” he said with a frown, “I don’t think disfiguring burns would suit me. But I am confident that you, as a loving mother, will do right by your son.”

Rhaella did not say another word but nodded silently as she went to Aerys’s chambers. The silence was loud as she saw him lying in his bed fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. He didn’t look up, but saw Rhaella was in the room from the corner of his eye. He pat the bed gesturing for her to come and she approached timidly like a deer watching a hunter carrying his bow. He put his hand on hers and pulled her down onto the bed and she looked at him in surprise and was unsure if it would be another of his unfortunate moments of being rough and drunk. But to her surprise he just seemed to want to lie with her and didn’t say anything until she got up to shut the door.

“Don’t leave.” He said as she closed the door instead of walking out.

“You need me, Your Grace?” She said to her husband as she lay beside him once more.

“Just, don’t leave me here alone. I have a headache, and I feel ill. I don’t want another bite of food or drink from that serpent's master.” He said with a grumble.

“Lord Tywin?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, Rugen. I’m not in the mood to discuss things right now. Just don’t say anything.” Aerys said as he lie back and looked at the door still nervously.

Tywin, for his part, had remained in the sitting room where he had spoken with the queen. Its window opened next to the bedroom window, and standing at the sill Tywin could hear the conversation in the next room. So Aerys didn’t trust Varys, or Rugen, or whatever he was calling himself this week, either, did he? Interesting. This was news to Tywin, after what Rhaegar had said and reports he had gotten from King’s Landing. So who was the eunuch really working for? He frowned, and poured himself a glass from a nearby bottle of wine, drinking it before slipping out of the royal chambers; if the King didn’t want to talk, then there was nothing left to learn.

As the King rested alongside his lovely queen, Rhaegar spent the whole afternoon and into the night training for the Tourney. As night fell the Spymaster made his rounds in the hallways of the Lannisters, his bald head gleaming in the moonlight as his bright orange silk robe stood out ostentatiously in the hallway. He was not at all attempting to hide.

Which was well enough for anyone trying to find him, of course, though this surely had its own purpose; the more people used to seeing him as he was, the less likely they would notice him in disguise. Still, it was almost inevitable that ‘the Spider’ would encounter Lord Tywin Lannister at one point, and it happened at last in the Golden Gallery, one of Casterly Rock’s finest great halls.

“Enjoying your explorations.... Rugen is it?” Tywin mused, spotting the rotund eunuch examining a sculpture of a lion.

“My name is Varys, my Lord. I am pleased by the lovely structures and ridges in Casterly Rock, it is a masterpiece of architectural prowess. Though, I doubt you are here to speak with me about design and architecture. You are too prudent for that, Tywin. What is it that you want?” He asked with a look that indicated that the question was almost rhetorical.

“I could ask you the same thing, Lord Varys,” Tywin asked, “I returned home and find out only by raven that there is a new Master of Whispers in King’s Landing. Odd for the Hand of the King, wouldn’t you say? What do you want?”

“What any loyal patriot would want, my Lord. I merely am looking out for what is best for the realm. What about that is unclear?” Varys asked with a curious look.

“Why nothing at all, of course, and yet everything,” Tywin replied; this one, clearly, was going to be interesting. Tywin did not usually like interesting. Aerys was interesting; Lord Reyne had been interesting. “It tells me everything, and yet nothing at all. What do you believe is best for the realm, Lord Varys?”

“That is the important question isn’t it?” He said, but it wasn’t a question. He seemed to be amused but he was more intrigued by Tywin, himself. “What is best for the realm is as simple as what is best for the King to the lowest slave. What of you, Tywin Lannister? What is best for the realm? Is it perhaps what is best for House Lannister? For Cersei? For Jaime? Or for the Imp? Tell me Tywin, what is best for the Realm?”

Tywin smiled thinly. The man wanted to dance, clearly. Annoyingly, he seemed to be pretty good at it. Tywin was certain he was being tested as much as he was testing Varys himself. “The interests of everyone in the realm, of course, cannot always be reconciled; in fact, more often than not it can’t. What is good for this Lord is bad for that one; what is good for the King may be very bad indeed for his servants.” Especially, Tywin did not add, when the King was reportedly aroused by setting people on fire; but he was certain Varys already knew about that anyway. “I am a servant to the throne, and to my family, and to my people; seeing to their interests is my duty, Lord Varys.”

“Well you see, I have less duties than you do Lord Lannister, and so they are more focused on what is most important to the realm rather than my own self-interests. As for this claim, I believe you are...speaking very close to your true intentions. When the King does not act in the best interests of his servants it can be very bad indeed, and you are a servant of the king, so is he acting contrary to your interests, my Lord?” Varys asked as he didn’t seem to show any more emotion but spoke in a teasing sing songy voice.

“In a way. I’ve overheard the servants saying they won’t get that stain out of the carpet anytime soon.” He smiled again, just a little. “The taxes, obviously, are not in the interests of those on whom they were raised, and are very much in the interests of those on whom they were lowered. I will say it is not a decision I would have made. But you probably already knew that.”

“Ah, but you knew it was at the behest of a naive young pawn, yes? You are still aware that this pawn has now become a knight. This will not be something to be overlooked as his ultimate fate will be to become king, or die.” Varys said as he played with a few chess pieces. “Surely I can imagine this is something you are aware of.”

He dropped the King’s piece at Tywin’s feet, whether it was deliberate or not, he didn’t know. The Mummer however smiled at watched Tywin’s reaction, and with a raised white eyebrow his lips curved into a wry grin.

“I’m aware the prince suggested it, yes, and certainly of the two possible fates open to him.” He bent down a moment to pick up the piece, setting it back in its proper place on the board. “He has much yet to learn.” Tywin did not add that at Rhaegar’s age, he himself had been standing over the body of Lord Reyne, his sword wet with blood.

“Indeed, the Prince of Dragonstone is however wise. He is well read, and merciful. He also is very popular among the smallfolk. The people are saying in the Red Faith, that he may be the Prince that Was Promised. Then it becomes a slight magnetic attraction, that is irresistible. You will see a pawn but the piece being played is no longer what one was first given. Are you sure he is not already prepared to take the throne?” Varys asked rhetorically as he knew that Tywin wouldn’t answer such a question. To say ‘Yes’ would mean that he did not have faith in the Prince of Dragonstone, and to say ‘No’ would mean that he believed the King was less of a prepared ruler than his son. Varys then looked at Tywin and the king’s piece.

“Perhaps you have an entirely different idea of what it means to be ruler than I do. What makes a ruler, Tywin?” Varys asked as he tried to see how well he could get the ambitions of the Lord going.

The ploy was a naked one to Tywin’s eyes, and he wasn’t about to bite. “Many things,” Tywin answered, “Some great lords and kings have been warriors, some have been diplomats, some have been builders. A good king, I would think, leaves the realm a stronger one than he found. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Define what you mean by stronger.” Varys said as he looked at the door and the tired prince entered the hall, sweating and worn as his eyes traced over Tywin and Varys. His surprise turned to mistrust as he cleared his throat.

“Strength comes in as many flavors as the kings that bring it, Lord Varys.” He looked up as Rhaegar entered, and bowed his head slightly. “My prince.”

“L-Lord Tywin, I was not aware that you’d be awake when I returned to rest. I see you and...Lord Varys, was it? You and Lord Varys seem to be having a time...” He didn’t know what to say. He had told Tywin many of his fears and uncertainties about Rugen in confidence, and now he was just chatting away with the Mummer, and he had no idea about what. Some of the things he said, he feared his father would hear, but he feared that the Mummer would hear it even more.

“A chance meeting,” Tywin noted, “Varys was asking me my opinion on rulership. An interesting topic; if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was trying to take my measure.”

“Rulership? Well it is simple isn’t it? Rulership is determined by bloodline.” Rhaegar said with a raised eyebrow.

“Specifically, he was asking what makes a good king,” Tywin clarified. “Though I admit I remain curious as to why he would give me one name, and you another.”

Varys looked at the two of them and shook his head. “I go by many names. This is not unusual for someone from Essos. And I see that you have not given the idea much thought, Prince of Dragonstone. What makes a Good King?” Varys tapped his fingers in amusement hoping that the Prince wouldn’t fail to disappoint.

“I suppose... a Good king is one who protects his subjects? One who does what he must using courage, wisdom, and prudence... I think there’s also something to be said about the way that a ruler can dispense justice and also be a father and protector of his people. There’s also the North of the Wall to be concerned about.” Rhaegar said as he raised his eyebrow.

Naivety! This is exactly what Tywin’s father was like! A person who appealed to others, an appeasing lad. He said exactly what was to be expected of a bookish lad. Varys thought as he looked at Tywin, expecting for him to say his own words about it.

Tywin listened to Rhaegar’s answer, not giving any outward sign of his reaction; it was well that he had built continued Handship into their ‘deal’, as his thoughts were aligned with Varys’, and while Rhaegar had the potential to be a good king, the guidance of a firm Hand was required. Finally he simply nodded. “Spoken like a knight,” Tywin said carefully, “Which is not altogether a bad thing... though the velvet glove must be tempered with iron when required. At your age, Rhaegar, I had already had to put down a rebellion by lords who believed me to be my father reborn. It has not happened since.”

“I suppose, but times were different then. I can only hope that things do not become such with the Darklyns.” Rhaegar said as he looked at Varys and then to Tywin once more. “I will retire, Lord Tywin, but beforehand I shall need a bath, where is the bath house?” he asked.

Tywin smiled. “On the bottommost level,” he answered, “Deep within the Rock there are hot springs. I think you will find them most pleasant. The servants will guide you there if you need it.”

“Unnecessary, Lord Tywin, I shall find my way.” Rhaegar said as he walked down the stairs looking over his shoulder as he went down and immediately he took to his room after bathing but Varys looked at Tywin for a moment before he walked down the hall, ostentatiously taking all the chess pieces except for the King’s piece.

[Trade and Magic]

Western Bay
The dragon, the lion and the silver boat

As the ship " Silverwind " entered the port of Lannisport, Tylos could feel the breeze of the cool ocean sea on his face. The crisp saltiness of the air combined with the sunset and the view of the Rock in the distance was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
His reasons for attending the tourney in Lannisport where more than one: He attended for house Farman due to his father's fear of Tywin and his sister being to young to represent the house, however more personally he was going to try his luck at the Tourney for best archer and meet the greater warriors and minds of the Seven Kingdoms.
...
An hour passed and Tylos Farman was observing the the various shops and stands in the city, when a little girl and her friends bumped into him. That little girl was Cersei Lannister and her friends happened to be his own sister and Melara Hetherspoon.
"Brother!" exclaimed Jeyne when she saw her brother.
"Hello little one" he said as he embraced her hug. "And Lady Lannister, good to see you again, you too Miss Hetherspoon"
"Hello Farman" said Cersei in a taunting voice. "We are going to visit Maggy the Frog"

Tylos flinched for a second, he had seen the woman when he decked and she did seem to have magic. But what harm could an old woman possibly present to the Highborn girls.
"Ok, but beware. I don't like the look of that woman"
The girls scurried off and left Tylos alone once more. In the following hour Tylos saw many wonders in the market and bought many rarities including a little statue of a dragon made of obsidian, a cask of sweet Volantene wine and an amulet with an encryption of a Ghiscari harpy on it. Afterwards he made his way to the closest inn. There he saw several men singing "the Bear and the Maiden fair".

"Excuse me gentlemen" he said to the commoners as they turned there heads towards him.
"I have this vintage Volantene wine and I was wondering if anyone cared to share it with me?"

Within moments the mean and women of the Inn flocked for a taste of the rare wine. Half of them offered their homes to Tylos and the others were speechless. Tylos smiled with the commoners as they drank. Suddenly he felt a pat on the back. And when he turned he saw a man with short silver hair wearing the sigil of House Gaunt.

"Well done kid, this is some nice wine. May I ask your name?" asked the silver haired man.
"It will be my pleasure sir, I am Tylos Farman. And whom may you be?"
"My name is Ragnar Blackfyre, it is a nice to meet you"

The two men drank and shared their stories that night. "Ragnar is fierce one" thought Tylos, " but a good one".
"So, I heard about the encounter with the highwaymen, the market is buzzing with the story and bards are composing a song about it, calling it " The Dragon's Bandit "" he said to Ragnar.

"Aye, it was fun but they stood no chance against me or the prince."
"Indeed, in fact I bet few things in this world can take you two together if the stories are true "
"Well it was great to meet you Ser Tylos, meet me tomorrow at the Tourney ground. I will probably be with his grace and lady Wylde"
See you then my friend said Tylos as Ragnar left the Inn.

More men came up to him offering their services in thanks for the wine, and Tylos told them it was a gift and offered them another round. Finally when the wine ran dry the mobs started leaving or renting rooms for the night, most of them with a whore under their arm. One even came to Tylos and offered her services to him, Tylos smiled and gave her a Golden Dragon and told her to go home. She thanked him and departed immediately with the Dragon clenched in her fist.

"You know ser it is good to see some kindness in these times." said the innkeeper
"The happiness of the people is the reason I became a knight and their security is my duty"

[Cantalvia]

The Central Gardens in Lannisport
The Westerlands

The quiet of the night was deep and loud as the mist rose from the Sea. The night was cool, and Helenia could feel a breeze off the rocks near the shore. The rumbling sound of the waves crashing upon the rocks and sand was almost comforting. A gentle rolling lullaby which filled the air with the salty sea smell. The Starlight was bright and it continued to catch upon her warm earthy brown hair and the lovely dress she wore, the remnants of her noble heritage from the House of Wylde as she carried the lovely gold amulet in her hand, given to her by the kind hands of the Prince of Dragonstone who protected it for her. The moonlight fell upon the bits of driftwood making the sails and long ships seem like ghostly figures in the night.

She could not help but think back to the cruelty she had experienced on the ship, the sounds and sights of death around her how could she even think of becoming one of these people, living monsters that strike on the sea. Helenia knew however that she was going to have to becoming something that she had buried inside of her for so long, her rage that had steadily built over the years of neglect and loneliness came to her in a flash, she looked down at her necklace and it was hers no matter what the Greyjoys think this is mine and only mine and if I have to pay the iron price to wear it again...so be it she knew what that meant, but she felt no guilt, no sorrow if her father was so ready to let her go and disown her then he was no father of hers, he had no family now to love and for the first time in a long time she felt the loneliness in a new way, not as a crushing weight but as a shield.

The Prince of Dragonstone was not adorned in his usual plate armor and was wearing his deep crimson tunic and warm brown pants with a pair of slippers which he left by the path where the sand met the road and he walked barefoot over the soft sand. As Helenia pondered, the Prince could not be left to his thoughts in the long halls of Casterly Rock. His nerves had been frayed as he saw Rugen speaking with Lord Tywin, and he didn’t know how many of his secrets were told to the Mummer. He drew comfort and peace from the blustering wind over the sea and he sought to take some time to recollect his thoughts and remember what he had told Tywin. To his surprise he saw Miss Wylde sitting in the sand watching the rolling waves come in and out. He didn’t say anything at first, and then his warm presence could be felt as he sat by Helenia.

“I apologize for interrupting your peace, Miss Wylde but I want to apologize for my actions earlier.” He said in a gentle whisper barely heard over the rumbling waves.

Helenia looked back and smiled at Rhaegar, “There is no need for you to apologise your highness, you have only done what a knight of Westeros would have done” she looked back at the waves and sighed softly, “I missed the sea, I’m glad to see it again though I am not used to such soft sandy beaches”

Rhaegar took a moment and sat down in the sand next to Helenia and found a small silvery shell which he took in his hand, the pearly gleam making it stand out in the moonlight. He held it in his hand as he looked at her with his deeply sad eyes which seemed to be filled with sympathy for her circumstances.

“The sea is wide and deep. It is very treacherous and dangerous yet look how beautiful and peaceful it looks. A seductive maiden that has drawn many a man... You never got to tell me what your home was like Miss Wylde, you have seen King’s Landing, and now Lannisport. I’d like to know what your home was like, since you are taking the proposal by the Greyjoy I wonder what kind of place it was.”

“Rain House is an old fortress on the edge of a cliff on the shore of Ship Wrecker Bay, it is a hard place and the Wyldes are said to be hard people, we sit there on the rocks and watch other ships smash to pieces on the reefs and shoals, much of our wealth came from what washes up on our shores the rest comes from the fishing villages close by”, Helenia sighed, “though my family is old your highness we are not wealthy, I suppose you would call us civilized Greyjoys...though we let nature kill for us instead”

For a moment Rhaegar didn’t say a word and let his imagination take him the the Rain House and he imagined it must have been a very hard life, and that Helenia had many troubles weighing down her troubled heart. The Prince of Dragonstone did not fully grasp the immense chasm between the life experiences they had and yet he reached across the chasm and tried hard to understand, not seeing the cliffside of danger from which he would fall. As he stood at the precipice of understanding he’d likely fall and would despair. He wouldn’t be able to comprehend it, and Helenia was still a noble, to imagine what it was like for the smallfolk would be the moment he would be dashed upon the rocks below and his heart would break. He took the moment instead and with a sigh he tried to comfort Helenia and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You are nothing like the Greyjoys.” He said with a gentle and kind demeanor. “The cruelty that they have is something you do not have. You are compassionate, kind, and you are noble and principled. There’s a huge difference between the two of you and it would be like comparing a stone upon the shore to a beautifully carved piece of sea glass, tempered by the sands of civility.”

Helenia looked at him and for a moment she could have stayed there with him forever if he asked but she looked away again, “Perhaps but sea glass can be quite sharp your highness and it all too soon wears away to nothing or shatters” she laid back on the sand and looked up into the night sky staring at the stars. The prince was quiet for a moment as she lie and then with the same tenderness he took her soft hand covered by the glove and placed the pearly sea shell in it.

“If the glass is anywhere as sharp as your wit, the Greyjoys will not stand a chance.” Rhaegar said with a gentle chuckle. “I believe, however, that you are not as weak as you believe yourself. A woman like yourself can endure and what is not said about the clarity of glass, is that it was all once sand. Miss Wylde, I do wonder however... If you are to choose to accept the Greyjoy’s proposals and if you are to take up the cause of the Ironborn, what will become of you? Will you renounce the Seven in favor of the drowned God? Will you forsake that which makes you definitively who you are?”

“The Seven have done little for me your highness if truth be told, I do not pray not since my mother passed when I was young, I have no religion why should I not pray to the Drowned God he is of the sea as I am...and you highness you have been very kind to me but I wonder if it is wise for you and I to be seen so much together, particularly now that my father has made public that I am married...”, Helenia sighed and rolled onto her side and looked at him.

The Drowned God is a harsh deity and goes hand in hand with the Old Way. It is said the Drowned God have made the ironborn to reave and rape, to carve out kingdoms and to make their names known in fire and blood and song. The Drowned God himself is believed to have brought flame from the sea and sailed the world with fire and sword, its eternal enemy called the Storm God, who resides in a hall within the clouds and ravens are his creatures. It is said the two deities has been in conflict for millennia and the sea roils in anger when they engaged in battle. However, much like the Drowned God, no one aside from the ironborn believe in the Storm God. They call their priests the drowned men because they drown them and nearly kill them and if they survive they are said to be reborn in the eyes of the Drowned God. This is the way of the Ironborn, and it is why they are as hardened and unprincipled as they are.” Rhaegar said with a shake of his head.

"People of Faith worship the Seven, a single deity with seven aspects or faces, each representing a different virtue. We love the Mother's Compassion, the Maiden's innocence, the Father's Justice and righteousness, the Smith's ability to grant character, the crone's impartment of wisdom unto her worshipers, the warrior's courage in battle, and the Stranger's welcoming hand to death and the unknown. The Seven is a full representation of the righteous laws of the universe. The contrast you see is one of the Good."

Helenia sat up for a moment and moved closed to Rhaegar and kissed him suddenly, her fingers brushed through his silvery smooth hair and rested on his cheek before breaking the kiss and sitting back, a blush burning her own pale cheeks, “I...oh dear, I’m sorry”

The prince put his gentle fingers on her lips to hush her and looked at her with eyes slightly surprised and also not. His smile seemed to indicate he was not bothered at all and he comfortingly hugged her from behind and shook his head as he tried to find words and couldn’t. He instead held her close, silently as she could feel his heart racing with each breath, fluttering like a tiny baby bird learning his first moment of flight. The Prince was for a moment blissfully happy, but also slightly afraid of his feelings. His mind tried to search through every single book he has ever read, finding that for all his knowledge he was completely unprepared for his feelings.

Is this...love? I don’t know. What does this mean? Does... Oh God, Tywin and Cersei... what will I do? But she’s married! I... what can I... His thoughts couldn’t outpace his fluttering heart and his cheeks as well were showing the color of a small crimson rose holding the feelings of affection he was giving to Helenia and still taking that grasping feeling of fear leaving the sharp thorns in, cutting his hands bloody.

“Helenia...” He started and then his emotions took over. He leaned in and kissed her soft lips and caressed her cheek with his hand. His eyes closed as he embraced her gently. He held her for a moment without words and then looked at the sea after he broke away from her kiss. He looked to the shoreline and saw a star falling from the sky as he pointed. “Look, it’s beautiful... I’ve not seen such a thing in a long time.” he said with a smile as his eyes seemed to, for a moment lose that melancholic sadness.

Helenia watched the star fall and nodded, “Yes, it is a beautiful...but to wonder what it could mean” she pulled herself away from Rhaegar slowly, standing and wiping sand from her dress, “your highness I...I don’t know what to say my behaviour is-”

“Call me Rhaegar, Helenia... It’s alright. Hmm this night reminds me of a story I have once heard when I was a boy. I was looking through the area when the Maesters were going to box my ears for hiding in the library so late at night, and I found this book which told the tale of how a man fell in love with a maiden of the sea, and he found out later that she was a mermaid and he saw her hiding in the shore longing to be hers and she disappeared in the seafoam. So earnest was he in his love that he sailed forever in search of his love and he was taken by the stormy seas.”

Helenia sat back down on the sand, “Well he eventually found her then, or perhaps I should say his spirit did...” she rested her hand on his arm and said softly, “Rhaegar I’m not a mermaid, and you are not a fisherman who can sail the world to find me...you are my prince and I am a daughter of a small noble house that would bring nothing to you and...” she let out a sorrow filled laugh,”I am already married” she let go of his arm and laid back on the sand closing her eyes.

The silence of the prince was broken with a sigh as Helenia could not hear what he said as his words were overtaken by the roaring of the waves. His voice then could be heard as he could be heard getting up and he took a few steps into the sea, the cool rushing of the water soaking his pants as he then took a moment to roll them up a bit. The solemn feeling of rejection he was given made him desire to swallow back a bit as he looked defiantly at the ocean rolling far away.

“One Friday morn when we set sail,
Not very far from land,
We there did spy a fair pretty maid
With a comb and a glass in her hand,

While the raging seas did roar,
And the stormy winds did blow,
While we jolly sailor-boys were up unto the top,
And the land-lubbers lying down below

Then up starts the capt'n of our gallant ship,
And a brave young man was he;
`I've a wife and child in fair Mistwood,
But a widow I fear she will be.'

Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship,
And a bold young man was he;
`Oh, I have a love in fair Storm's End,
But a widow I fear she will be,'

Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship,
And a gruff old soul was he;
`Oh, I have a wife in Blackhaven,
But a widow I fear she will be.'

And then up spoke the little cabin-boy,
And a pretty little boy was he;
`Oh, I am more grieved for my daddy and my mammy,
Than you for your wives all three.'

Then three times round went our gallant ship,
And three times round went she;
For the want of a life-boat they all went down,
And she sank to the bottom of the sea.”

His voice was deep and sad as he sang over the waves and the morose feeling crushing him like the rushing water over the rocks did. He did not carry his harp so only his voice carried over the salty wind which stung his skin sharply. His eyes hurt for reasons he didn’t know and he looked at the silvery shell Helenia held in her hand and he smiled for a moment in the starlight and walked back toward the road and put on his slippers and walked toward the encumbering night which weighed him down like iron.

Helenia laid there listening to him leave tears slipped from her lashes as she opened her eyes and looked up at the stars,” I’m so sorry...” she rasped out quietly, she was sorry for many thing for hurting Rhaegar, for turning her back on her faith. She couldn’t stop herself from sitting up and watching Rhaegar walk away, she clutched the shell and her necklace she wanted to scream, to call him back and fall against him but she knew deep down that would only hurt him more she could not let herself become the downfall of him.

[Imeriata]

Casterly Rock
The Westerlands

Green and golden flags were flying happily in the wind hanging from the lances of the men that surprisingly enough seemed to be almost entirely unaffected by the journey. Their silver coloured chainmail armours did not have a trace of rust in them, their cloaks and clothes were surprisingly clean and the hair of every rider were washed, shaved and smelled of perfume just as their crowns or white roses were new and freshly picked.

"Haw, now that was hardly that bad!" Garth said happily as put on his helmet and nodded to the city gates that were just a stone throw away which marked the end of their journey, granted it had not really been that far and they had travelled by the Ocean Road for most of the journey but he still felt rather happy that he once again would be able to sleep in a comfortable bed and get a warm meal before he went to sleep.

well now that he fought about it so had the servants been helpful with the last desire and the rope bed had not been that bad. Well he would have something between himself and the elements, not that the pavilion had been bad or anything but he still preferred a good and proper house.
"Indeed my lord, the tourney should be a rather joyful affair and I do look forward of knocking some other knights off their steeds, after all nobody would be able to best a knight from the reach in a tourney!" Jargel said as with a cheerful smile on his face which was a bit in contrast with the sleek and cold metal facemask that Garth wore.

"Indeed, now would we just have to greet the lions and bring them a offer of our well wishes and we are set to win this thing!" Grath replied the bastard next to him with a hapy voice that did not seem to match the cold and emotionless facemask.
"indeed, You there!" Grath said as he turned to one of the commoners and took up a golden coin from one of the saddlebags that his horse carried "Would you be able to say what the quickest way to the castely rock is?" he continued as he let the coin wiggle between his thumb and index finger.

[House Targaryen of Valyria]

The Gates of Lannisport
The Westerlands
The Next Morning

The sunlight gleamed over the fortress on Casterly Rock as the crowds were increasing as more and more people were coming to the Westerlands for the great Tourney. The King was recovering from his hangover in his chambers as the Prince of Dragonstone aired his frustrations in the training ground. The City Watch continued to take note of everyone who entered at the gates as the Knights entered bearing the Sigil of the Rose.

“State your name and your business.” The Guard said with the same routine, utterly bored.

“I am Garth Tyrell, the lord of highgarden, I seek to greet your lord and ask for a place to sleep for both myself and my men!” Garth cried back to the guard as he gestured to the large column of men behind him in a theatrical fashion.

“We welcome you, and well met Lord Tyrell. I see My Lord has come to have his honorable men compete in the Grand Tourney being held here in Lannisport? We will gladly lead you to your temporary residence. I hope it befits the station of his honor.” The Guard said as he called a Steward to serve the Lord of Highgarden. This would be quite a task as it was Tywin’s desire to, of course, outshine the Lord of the Reach and his subjects in lavish decoration and provisions. He was ever willing to show off the Lannister prosperity to the Reach which of course was the second most wealthy House in all of Westeros.

He led the Lord through the gold tempered halls in Casterly Rock where he was provided lavish furnishings with gold trimmed designs in his wooden bed and brilliant soft silky satin bedsheets from Essos. House Lannister was not to be outdone. The Knights and Guards were in the lap of luxury as they were in the finest area in Lannisport and the food and drinks ran while women and beautiful maidens were all watching the practicing knights in the Tourney grounds.

The Prince of Dragonstone was smashing angrily at a straw man and his strike was ever leaden with frustration and emotion.

“One thing that you can say about the Lannisters is that they at least know how to decorate a castle, it must be second only to highgarden itself in beauty!” Jargel Flowers said just high enough so that everyone would hear but still quiet enough so that it was not obvious if he were boasting or not.
It was something that Garth had to agree with since this was a matter of patriotism rather than actual taste so he just nodded in agreement while he looked around with an approving look.
“now that one seems not really to have his mind into it, far too much anger and too little discipline!” Jargel continued and nodded to the knight that seemed to be more interested in making firewood rather than training.
“the Targarian?” Garth said a bit quieter as he raised his eyebrow and looked at the knight behind him with a raised eyebrow that sadly not were visible under his facial mask.
“ohh... uhmm... yes... him!” Jargel replied a bit quieter than before and suddenly a bit redder when he had figured out what family he had possibly offended.

Rhaegar was deeply distracted and then realized he was being watched and then took a look at the Knight of Highgarden and with a serious expression he walked up to them and gave Jargel a bow.

“I see you’ve come a long way.” He said as he looked at the Tyrell insignia. “I apologize for my rudeness, where are my manners, I am Rhaegar Targaryen of the Isle of Dragonstone.” He said with a cool voice, though it was not because he had heard what was said, but because he was deeply at odds with his own feelings.

“Garth Tyrell, lord of highgarden, it is an honour to meet you my prince!” Garth said as he bowed before the white haired prince while the man beside him simply stood with his jaw open for a second as he realised that just had made the largest mistake in his life.
“J-jargel Flowers my prince!” the man stuttered for a moment before he bowed again.

“‘Tis an honor to meet you Ser Jargel! I cannot say I have seen you before in previous Tourneys is this the first one that you shall compete in?” Rhaegar asked with his manner changing to a warmer one. This distraction being a welcome one from his feelings which were at the moment, mixed up.

“Ohh I have not really jousted outside of the reach my prince so I would hardly expect that my fame have reached your ears but it is far from my first!” Jargel said and bowed again for good measurements even if it seemed like he was out of danger.

“Would I have your permission to come with an advise in regards to your swordplay?” Garth said as he tilted his head a bit and looked to see how the prince would react to the offer of help.

“Certainly, Ser Garth of the Reach. I would be most honored by your assistance.” Rhaegar said as he regained his sense of focus.

“You seem to strike too furiously my prince, you should try to remain calm in battle otherwise so will you make mistakes!”

“Oh, I...well.” He had not realized that he had been channeling his frustrations and looked back at the straw man and nodded. “You are right Lord Tyrell, I’m merely... perhaps it is inability to stay clear... tell me, Lord Tyrell... what do you know of the Greyjoys?” Rhaegar asked with a strange look of bitterness.

“The lords of the Iron islands? They are savages and thieves! Nothing more than bandits!” Garth said with clear disgust since he as most people in the reach... well everywhere he would imagine had a very low opinion of the people from the Iron islands.

“So I am aware... I’ve considered discussing with my father about a campaign in the Iron Islands, but I do not know if the profit will be in its destruction.” Rhaegar said with a tired look. “Furthermore I am not sure what the situation is there, and without full knowledge it is a dangerous task.”

“The Iron Islanders are sailors and raiders my lord, they could hardly be expected to stand up to us mainlanders in an open conflict my prince!” Grath said assured of himself, after all he were convinced that even his own banner men would easily be able to take the Iron Islands by themselves if they needed to, with the support of the crown so would it be an easy task.

“I would be willing to convince my father to give support of the Royal Navy for this righteous task, and I would be willing to lay siege upon the Isles myself.” The Prince said mustering his courage.

“Hear hear!” Garth said happily as this seemed to be a chance for fame and glory if he ever had seen one.

“I say that it would be an excellent way to test my prince’s mettle against such a bunch of barbarians, I would even dare to say that I would be interested in supporting my prince with some sails and men myself would his grace agree to this adventure of yours!” he finished cheerfully

“So it shall be done, Lord Tyrell. I will speak with my Father and we shall raise steel together and crush the demons that would harm the defenseless!” He said as he raised his beautiful blade of Valyrian steel, the Dark Sister with enthusiasm. Rhaegar returned to fiercely pummelling the training dummy for melee and then mounted his warhorse, Fade and prepared for the Jousting training.