Chapter Text
Rhaegar
Steffon Baratheon had failed.
Not that Rhaegar had been particularly fond of the Essos plan to begin with, but it did throw yet another snag in any plans. In truth, he felt guilty that the trip had cost the Lord and Lady of Storm's End their lives. He had always liked Steffon when the man had been to King's Landing. Such needless loss of life. Now his senseless cousin was a Lord Paramount, but that was another issue altogether.
The Baratheon’s trip had garnered him an additional year of freedom – now, he had to convince his father he needed yet more time. He wasn’t sure the best approach, as he knew his mother had been communicating with the ruling Princess of Dorne, and he expected a proposed match was to be offered soon. Convincing Aerys to rule against the match shouldn’t be too difficult a battle though. Aerys didn’t trust the Dornish. Not that he trusted much of anyone these days, but the Dornish had never been Aerys’ favorites.
He didn’t remember much about Elia Martell – she hadn’t been well during much of his visit to Dorne when he was younger. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. She wasn’t a remarkable beauty, more mutedly pretty, and it often seemed as though she was too fragile to touch, but she did hold herself regally and exhibited cutting wit while conversing. They had been corresponding for a few moons, and she seemed an adequate companion.
Her health was his primary concern. Among nobility, marriage was so often for political reasons, and he had no illusions of a marriage with love or passion. His marriage would undoubtedly be to consolidate an alliance. But he needed a woman who could bear him three children, if not more.
The dragon has three heads.
Childbirth took its toll on even the strongest of women. To take to wife a woman who was often described as frail seemed quite foolish.
The thought of going against his mother’s wishes did not please him, yet he knew his best approach would be to convince his father of the Dornish Princess’s unsuitability – Rhaella Targaryen, like most of their Targaryen ancestors, could be stubborn to a fault should she put her mind to something. Mariah Martell, Elia’s mother, had been one of the Queen’s closest companions, and Rhaegar feared it was blinding his mother to the truth about her friend’s daughter.
He would speak to Arthur first. House Dayne was sworn to House Martell - Arthur and his sister Ashara had spent some of their childhood at Sunspear. While he disliked forcing his dearest friend to divulge personal, and potentially improper, information on his liege’s daughter, Arthur understood how dire his need. Might be Rhaegar could even speak to Ashara. It was more likely the woman had the information he sought – Arthur had been an honorable man even in his youth - and it was by Rhaegar’s recommendation that his mother had invited Ashara to Court in the first place.
Hopefully, his friend could aid him. He didn’t want to think of his alternative source of information.
No, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I don’t trust the eunuch, with all his “little birds.” Best leave that as a last resort.
Sighing, he headed towards the training yard, knowing that was the quickest way to find his best friend. As Arther loved to remind him, one didn’t simply become the legendary Sword of the Morning by sitting on one’s arse.
In the end, Arthur’s knowledge of the Princess was limited to childhood stories, and Ashara’s information was far too vague to be truly detrimental. Fortunately, she had given him enough to drive his inquiries in a specific direction. Alas, in the end he was forced to speak with Varys.
He knew his father had brought the new Master of Whisperers to court in part because of him – Aerys didn’t trust his own son. Rhaegar had no illusions that Varys spared him when it came to whispering in the King’s ear, but he also wasn’t sure Varys wanted him gone. The Prince had certainly spoken against his father’s actions, albeit with only his most trusted companions, and Aerys had burned men for lesser crimes. Considering the extent of the Spider’s web of knowledge, Rhaegar knew he was only one step from the pyre, but Varys had yet to bring out the ropes to tie him to it. This gave him a modicum of comfort, as it indicted Varys’ motives were far more complex than simply fanning the flames of his father’s madness.
He gives each of us just enough information, but never the whole story. In no time at all, he has made it so we feel helpless without him.
To be fair, the man had his uses and he had proven himself most helpful in solving Rhaegar’s Dornish problem.
She has a lover and is certainly not a maiden. The Princess had moon tea delivered to her room but a few days after her mother, the ruling Princess of Dorne, resumed her correspondence with the Queen. Even that had her on bed-rest for weeks.
His mother had been quite displeased by the news, though she hadn’t thought to question it. The Dornish reputation for sexual licentiousness was well known in the capital – Elia, at two and twenty, had been a woman grown for several years. Aware of her husband’s distrust of the Dornish, Rhaella had agreed with her son that the proposal could not possibly go forward. To avoid the wrath of Dorne, and the potential humiliation of a Princess with a public display, Rhaella wrote to her friend to explain the situation. Mariah Martell proved to indeed be a smart and savvy woman – her short response was quickly followed by the announcement of Elia’s betrothal and subsequent marriage to Ser Baelor Hightower.
Aerys, who had some knowledge of his sister-wife’s designs, seemed only modestly offended by the course of events. In one of his rare good moods, Aerys had even suggested Rhaegar travel the realm to find a bride. With no designated timeline, Rhaegar planned to use the time to travel to the Citadel in Oldtown. A bride could wait.
This plan had unfortunately unraveled completely when news of the betrothal between Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully had been announced during one of the Small Council meetings. While great houses were known to make marriage alliances, it was still rare – great houses generally married into the families of their bannermen. To have the eldest daughter of a great house married to the heir of another was reason to pause. House Stark rarely engaged in Southern politics, which made the occurrence all the more unusual. When coupled with the fact that Rickard Stark’s second son, Eddard, was fostered with the new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon, in the Eyrie under Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale, the news would lead even a rational man to furrow his brows.
Aerys Targaryen was not a rational man.
After spending the better part of an hour ranting about the traitorous North, Aerys had finally turned to his son.
“Boy, you’ve always been interested in the North, no? You send enough bloody letters to my great uncle at that Wall at least. Maybe a trip to that frozen hell will help you with that damn prophecy you’re always reading.”
Indeed, as far as unwanted trips went, perhaps Rhaegar could salvage such a journey.
Not exactly Oldtown, but perhaps Aemon can help. He always said there were rare books at Castle Black and Winterfell.
His father had continued, “Yes, you will go to the North and find out what treason these Northerners plan. They dare defy the dragon!” His father’s gaze landed on him again, a glint of malice shining through, “And you will do so in secret. No royal pomp and circumstance, let Rickard Stark walk right into a trap.”
Rhaegar wasn’t sure what exactly the trap was or how he would learn enough about the Warden of the North’s plans without gaining entry into his keep, but the Prince recognized a pointless argument when he saw one.
Of course, Varys couldn’t let an opportunity to create more intrigue go. All it took was a simple statement, phrased as a leading question: “Your Majesty, I do believe Lord Stark has a daughter of whom he is quite fond – she must be close to her majority?”
Seven hells, don’t give him any ideas.
Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, who had been largely silent up until this point, decided to join the conversation. “The girl is said to be wild and reckless, hardly an appropriate spouse for even a minor lord. Why else would she remain hidden and with no betrothal.”
While he was certain Tywin’s interference was purely selfish – the Hand had made it obvious he still harbored plans to have Rhaegar marry his daughter, Cersei, in spite of Aerys’ previous rejection of the suit – Rhaegar hoped the comment dissuaded his father enough to let the matter go.
While news from the North was incredibly limited, particularly around Lord Stark’s only daughter, he too had heard the few rumors that did circulate. The Wolf Maid was said to shun all lady’s arts, preferring to hunt with her equally wild brothers, and her temper was said to match that of her oldest brother, Brandon. Rhaegar had formally met Brandon Stark on a few occasions, but his clearest memory was of the man sparring at the last tourney – the man seemed almost feral, less measured in his swings than a knight of the South, yet undeniably a fearsome opponent with his wild strength and wolf-like quickness. The one time Rhaegar had spoken more than a few words of greeting with the heir of Winterfell, at a feast two years prior, Brandon had been freely telling stories about his younger brothers. When one of his companions had mentioned his sister though, the man’s anger had flared suddenly and the topic was rapidly changed.
Are they just protective? Or are they hiding something?
Rhaegar shook his head to clear the thoughts – they were inconsequential. He highly doubted the girl would be a presentable candidate for marriage, given she had never even been to court, and the lack of other potential arrangements could only mean there was something wrong with her. Likely she was plain, and with uncouth manners, she would only be a liability to her father and any future husband.
He had missed the rest of the discussion, though caught his father’s order to simply look out for the Stark girl. Aerys didn’t like secrets and Rickard Stark seemed to be hiding more than one.
Dismissed to see to his preparations, he went to find Arthur and Oswell.