Rhaegal was surprised to see a Tully of all people standing before him. He had allowed the man to enter Dragonstone under guest rights, and now he was bowing before Rhaegal inside the Chamber of the Painted Table. The room was just more suited to his tastes, and since it was just one man it felt more appropriate to have their discussion here rather than in the Great Hall.
Melisandre was also present, as were Gerold and Barristan. Rhaegar and Arthur had been curious and so they came in to see what this was all about.
There shouldn't be a misunderstanding here. It wasn't as if Rhaegal had forgotten about the trouts. They just did not play a role in his current plans. The Riverlands were a complicated mess better left in their hands until Rhaegal could exert more direct control over the kingdom. The Riverlands were filled with prideful lords that spoke of the sanctity of vows but were some of the first to break them whenever it suited them, all over petty grudges too.
Rhaegal put those thoughts to rest, lest he go into a mental rant that would distract him from the present.
"Lord Tully."
"There's no need for such a title with me, my prince." Brynden stood up straight. His bow had been respectful, but it hadn't been submissive either. The man had his own pride, Rhaegal could tell. "After everything that's happened, I doubt that I'll ever get a castle of my own. No, I'm just a wandering knight now."
Oh really?
"How peculiar." Rhaegal rested his cheek on his hand, his posture contemplative. "As far as I'm aware, your brother is the Lord of Riverrun. Are you not then in line of succession to the Riverlands?"
"My brother has his own children now. And I? I have refused to play his games and denied the matches that he set out for me, so I left."
How honest. Rhaegal could not detect any lies from the man. It just made the situation more interesting. He doubted that the Tully would answer honestly if asked why he had denied his marriage options, and to be honest Rhaegal did not much care for his reasons. Maybe he preferred the company of men. Maybe the matches had been unappealing. Or maybe it was just like he said and he simply did not want to be a part of his brother's schemes. Whatever the reason, the fact of the matter was that the man had chosen to come here of all places.
"Why have you come to Dragonstone?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Brynden's face. "It's been over a decade now, since your grandfather, King Jaehaerys, first announced your presence to the Seven Kingdoms. You were but one then, but I was there that day. You displayed your magic. Your flames were like something out of a story book. My brother and I could hardly believe it."
"You are the same as the others in this continent," Melisandre said softly. "You deny what is right in front of you."
Brynden grunted somewhat. "I will not deny that….my lady." Melisandre smiled at his hesitation. "We Tullys are proud followers of the Faith. We have been even before Aegon the Conqueror united the Seven Kingdoms. Still, our house shares ancestry with the First Men. We once believed in the old gods, just as those in the North still do."
The Tullys had bent the knee to the Andals when they came knocking. They had intermarried and given up their old ways. It was the same story for most of the houses in Westeros who had once been part of the First Men, with some exceptions. Their choices back then had either been to assimilate and intermarry, or to be conquered.
There really wasn't much of a choice there.
"We are all familiar with history here," Rhaegar cut in. "You have yet to answer my brother's question."
Brynden was silent for a few moments, no doubt choosing his words before speaking. When he did, he met Rhaegal's eyes with his own.
"No matter how strong one's faith, after seeing such a thing, you start questioning things. The Faith detests magic. It warns of the evil that it brings." His eyes drifted toward the smiling Melisandre for a second before settling on Rhaegal again. "You must know that there are many rumors about you, my prince. All of it mixed. The Riverlands does not know what to make of you. On my journey here I passed through several small villages where you were being condemned. That your birth heralded the dawn of a new dark age. And yet, once I got into the Crownlands, the story changed. People were more happy to speak of you, saying that your birth was a sign of the gods that house Targaryen was still favored and thus fit to rule."
This man. The fact that he had so brazenly spoken of the disrespect, which his father would have declared as treason, going on in his kingdom was amusing but also unusual. What would he do if Rhaegal decided to track these people down? Did he think because they were peasants that Rhaegal would not care?
'Hmm, no. It's not that.'
Brynden was still staring at him, his eyes full of judgement.
Oh.
Was this a test?
Rhaegal noticed Rhaegar shooting him a knowing glance.
His brother caught it too.
Rhaegal almost wanted to laugh at the audacity of the Tully before him.
He was testing Rhaegal. He wanted to see how he would react, if he would act out against the few people that were speaking ill of him.
It was grating to a degree. A part of him wanted to be petty, but Rhaegal quickly squashed that down. It wasn't even worth it. The other part of him still admired the boldness of the man.
"Spreading falsehoods against the crown prince could result in severe punishment," Rhaegal said at last, his voice indifferent. He did not let any of his feelings slip through.
"Aye, that is true." Brynden nodded. "However, the smallfolk have always been full of superstition. Their feelings change as fast as the wind blows."
Wasn't that the truth. Right now, the Crownlands were probably singing his praises for the mere fact that they were well fed. King's Landing too. The resurgence of trade to Essos through Driftmark had been beneficial to the Crownlands as a whole.
Money made the world go round.
At least he now knew some of what was going on in the Riverlands. There were so many scattered villages that it was hard to keep track of them all. More so in the Vale. A more centralized authority would help fix a lot of that, but right now wasn't the time to bend the River Lords to his will. But soon….
"So you're curious." Rhaegal leaned back in his seat. "The world is changing, and you want to know more. Is that why you're here, Ser Brynden?"
"Indeed."
"I don't need men like that." Rhaegal waved his hand in dismissal. "I need men who are willing to serve me. I doubt that you'd be willing to become a sworn knight under my banner, so you are free to go."
Okay, so maybe he was being a little petty.
"Far be it from me to correct a prince, but I must clear a certain misunderstanding." Brynden dropped to one knee, his head bowed. "If you would have me, then I will pledge my blade to your service."
Now this was startling. Rhaegal was fully caught off guard now. The Tully was willing to leave behind his household to follow him?
'That must have been one hell of a fight.'
Either Brynden really was fed up with his brother and was allowing his curiosity to guide his decision, or there was something else that he wanted. Rhaegal didn't know which one it was in this case.
"He's a respectable knight, my prince," Barristan spoke up after sensing his hesitation. "He fought well in the Stepstones."
"Indeed." Gerold gave his endorsement. "I'm surprised you didn't earn more renown for your actions."
"You shouldn't discount me so easily," Brynden replied, lifting his head enough to look at Gerold. "Soon enough, all of Westeros will hear of the Blackfish."
The Blackfish?
"That's quite the name," Gerold mused. "Did you come up with that one yourself?"
"Unfortunately, no. My brother was kind enough to assign it to me. One last parting gift you might say."
Okay, so there really was bad blood between the two of them. That made things easier then.
"Ser Brynden Tully, I welcome you into my service."
---
The winds blew strongly outside of the castle. The sky was cloudy, but there was no rain. Down below the cliffs, the waves battered into the rocks in a consistent rhythm.
It was just another regular day on the miserable island of Pyke. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, Quellon Greyjoy found his surroundings calming. He had been born on this miserable island. He had been raised here all his life. This miserable rock was his life, and damn was it beautiful. It was home to one of the strongest legacies in all of Westeros, and any Ironborn worth his salt would take pride in that.
Despite that proud tradition, they were the laughing stock of the Seven Kingdoms. Quellon Greyjoy was not blind to this fact. Ever since the Iron Islands had been conquered by the dragons, the Ironborn had lost their renown as the feared scourge of the seas. Raiding meant breaking the king's peace. It meant bringing the wrath of the six other kingdoms on them. To try and fight against a combined power like that…it was madness.
The Ironborn had seen a brief resurgence during the Dance, when their bloodthirsty nature had been sought after by both sides. It had led to a brief period where the Ironborn had held the Westerlands by fear and might alone.
Eventually, even that period died. Others had tried to revive the "glory" of the old days after that as well, but eventually they were all crushed.
Now? The Ironborn were directionless, and to Quellon the old ways were nothing more than an outdated way of thinking that were shackling his people. If the Ironborn were to survive, then they needed to adapt. This meant embracing new traditions and customs, ideas that the Ironborn had considered beneath them for thousands of years.
Needless to say, not many agreed with his way of thinking. His rule had been marked with discontent from many of the lords under him. It wasn't until recent years that none dared to defy him openly. Not after he had made examples out of those that thought they could remove him from his position.
Quellon wasn't sure how successful he had been. He had introduced new policies, such as outlawing thralldom for the first time in Ironborn history. However, there was no guarantee that such decrees would last after he was gone. None of his surviving children seemed particularly interested in his ideals.
No, not ideals. It was pragmatism. How could the Ironborn be expected to survive in this world, in a united realm, when they were the only ones left outside of it? Back when the kingdoms had squabbled with one another, there had been room for their practices.
Like a raven lunatic, many of his bannermen refused to accept this simple fact and clung to the old ways.
It was tiring.
Quellon felt weary as he entered his solar. He was surprised to find his wife already inside. She had just given birth to their fifth son. The birthing had left her very weak, and Quellon had expected to see her still in bed recovering. That was where he had left her when he went to have breakfast with his sons.
"Why are you up so early?"
"Good morrow to you as well." The woman's dark hair was done into its usual braid, a sign that she intended to be up and about today. "I can't waste away in bed for the remainder of my life, can I?"
Quellon took his seat as she came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned her pale complexion.
"It's only been a few weeks."
"That's more than enough. I wasn't bedridden after Balon for more than a few days. I don't intend to let this one hold me back either."
His wife came from the house Sunderly, one of the noble houses of the Ironborn. And it showed. Her spirit burned brightly as any respectable Ironborn's should. She was a fine rock wife.
"Besides, I wanted to see your face for myself when I handed this to you." She placed a letter in his hands.
Right away, Quellon spotted the dragon seal.
"The Targaryens?" Quellon couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.
What in the drowned god did the royal family want with him? Throughout his entire reign, Quellon had kept the Ironborn in check, ensuring that none dared to pillage on the mainland. Any reaving that was done was done in the Stepstones or in Essos, unofficially of course.
The Targaryens hadn't sent any direct communication in decades. It was the sort of treatment that Quellon was used to. If the Ironborn were compliant and paid their taxes, the Iron Throne was happy to ignore them. It was only during war that they were of any use.
"Is the king troubled by something?" Quellon went to open the letter.
His wife shook her head. "Close, but not quite. Apparently this raven came from Dragonstone."
Quellon paused.
Dragonstone? Unofficially, the island had been handed over to the crown prince many years ago. Usually the Targaryens waited until their heirs were a bit older before handing the title over. Then again, this new crown prince had been breaking a lot of previously held assumptions. What was one more?
Quellon had seen the flames for himself on that day. There were some in the Iron Islands who still remained skeptical, but Quellon was not one of them. When one saw something like that for themselves, there was no room left for doubt.
And now it was that same crown prince that was reaching out to him?
How unexpected.
Quellon broke the seal and started to read through the letter. His wife made herself comfortable by walking back around and sitting in one of the chairs. It was obvious that she couldn't remain standing for too long before she was fatigued.
She gave him a few moments to read through the letter before asking, "Well? What does it say?"
Quellon lowered the letter, his face pensive. "The crown prince is planning a trip to the North and is asking us to send someone to accompany him."
His wife was taken aback. "What?"
He couldn't blame her reaction. Not only was a Targaryen going north, something that hadn't happened since the days of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, but he also wanted a Greyjoy with him? What kind of madness was this?
"Why would the crown prince want one of us in his court?" His wife couldn't understand.
Quellon himself became pensive as he tried to understand what all of this could possibly mean. No Targaryen had reached out to them in such a fashion before, and for a moment he was paralyzed with uncertainty. But the uncertainty quickly gave way for ambition.
Wasn't this precisely the opportunity that he was looking for? For a chance to integrate the Iron Islands closer to the rest of the realm? It was perfect really. Quellon couldn't have asked for a better opportunity than if he prayed to the drowned god.
Both Balon and Euron were close in age to the crown prince, but Balon had recently sired a son of his own. Quellon's first grandchild. It had been a festive occasion, but it meant that Balon would be less likely to want to travel to Dragonstone. Risking his heir was also a problem.
But Euron might do just fine. The letter never specified that the crown prince wanted someone in particular. Just that a Greyjoy be present if at all possible.
It might also do his son some good. Euron and Victarion had been fighting a lot recently, mostly due to Victarion's mocking over a dream that Euron believed in. Quellon didn't know all the details. He just knew that things had been tense between his two sons.
Yes, some time apart might do both of them some good. Plus, it might also bring the Iron Islands closer to the royal family.
It was perfect really.
There was no reason for Quellon to hesitate. He quickly sent out a reply.
---
Mace Tyrell felt like he was a newborn again as his mother's scrutinizing eyes fell upon him that morning. They had been enjoying a nice breakfast until his mother told him that there was something that they needed to discuss in father's old solar.
'Now hers.'
It was supposed to be his. Despite his age, Mace was now officially the Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Mander. It was a source of immense pride for him. Unfortunately, he didn't really feel much like a lord, not when his mother ran all of the kingdom's affairs for him. Mace had not made a single decision about the happenings in his lands since becoming lord, his mother choosing instead to take over until he was "better prepared."
It was frustrating, but Mace could never go against his mother.
"What is it, mother?" he asked softly after she didn't say anything for longer than a minute. The quiet was making him uncomfortable. "Is this about my engagement?"
It was the only thing that Mace could think of. His mother had been trying to work out a betrothal with the Hightowers. Their lord, one Leyton Hightower, had taken to wife a Lysene noblewoman from one of the most prominent houses in the Free City. No doubt for trade deals. The woman, who unfortunately died in childbirth some years ago, had the exotic looks of the Valyrians. As a result, some of the Hightower children bore the look of Valyria as well. This fact played no part in his mother's desire to seek a match with the Hightowers, but Mace would not lie and say that he wouldn't be excited about the prospect of having a wife who bore the resemblance of a Targaryen.
"No." His mother looked annoyed about the topic. "So far, the Hightowers have continued to remain evasive, but no matter. We can worry about that later. Right now, a more interesting proposition has been handed to us."
"What kind of proposition?"
"Earlier today, a raven arrived. From Dragonstone." His mother fished out a letter from her dress. "It asked house Tyrell if you would be interested in accompanying the crown prince to the North."
Wait, what?
Mace couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The crown prince asked for me?"
He had heard from his mother how she had tried to get him to foster in King's Landing so that he could develop a friendship with the crown prince, but the king had denied the request. Now, it was the crown prince that was asking for him?
"He's going to the north, don't forget that." Olenna appeared more interested in that tidbit. "I wonder why the north has fascinated him so."
The crown prince wasn't exactly reclusive. He spent a lot of time in King's Landing, and the people there praised the crown prince. Although most of that praise came from the fact that the capital was seeing trade booming, which meant more money which then translated to more food. Even during the previous year with that short and awful winter, King's Landing had remained well fed. Not to mention that the crown prince had worked out a deal with his mother about more wood shipments sent to Driftmark to help with the construction of a new trade fleet.
In other words, there was already a positive business relationship at play here.
"I hear it's cold in the north." Mace wasn't sure if he was trying to make a joke, but the words slipped out.
His mother rolled her eyes at him. "Then you better prepare yourself for it."
Mace's heart started beating fast. "You're accepting the invitation?"
"Of course, you fool." She snapped at him. "This is an opportunity we cannot miss. If possible, convince the crown prince to let one of your sisters go to court so that she can befriend the princess as well. The Tyrells have never had a strong presence in the capital. Perhaps it's time that we change that."
Of course. His mother wasn't actually interested in the possibility of a friendship blossoming between Mace and the crown prince. No, she was only interested in the benefits that it would bring.
"While you're gallivanting in the north with him, I shall get your betrothal in order." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure what game the Hightowers are playing, but a match between our houses would bring nothing but benefits to them. They will understand that."
It would be very beneficial to the Tyrells too, but his mother didn't say that part out loud. No, it was far more beneficial to behave like they held all the cards.
Mace didn't dwell on that. Already his mind was on his upcoming meeting with the crown prince.
He could not wait.
---
Tytos Blackwood was more than a little curious to know what was happening as he was summoned to his father's solar after his usual training. Three and ten, he was a squire who was on the cusp of becoming a man. Tytos suspected that he would still be a squire for some years to come. When he was younger he had held some desire to become the youngest to ever be knighted, but that dream quickly faded after reality set in.
Things were rarely ever simple in life.
Tytos met his father in his private solar. His father was hunched over his desk, going over different correspondence. His form was draped by a magnificent raven-feather cloak. A cloak that would one day be his.
"Take a seat, son."
Tytos sat down.
His father didn't look up from his letters. "A raven has arrived from Dragonstone. It appears as though the crown prince wants to rekindle old blood ties with the Blackwoods."
His father was a very direct man, and today was no different.
Tytos didn't know what to say. He knew that one of his great aunts had once been queen, but that was before he was born. She had died at Summerhall with most of the Targaryen family at the time. It had been a horrific event that the realm had wanted to put behind them, and with the ascension of Aerys II and his magical heir, the realm was able to do so. These days, there was a lot more stability in the capital. Aerys had reigned for over a decade, and he had three healthy sons to succeed him should anything occur.
"Is the crown prince hosting a feast?" That was the first thing that came to Tytos' mind. If so, had the prince asked for him directly? That would be an honor.
"No." His father finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting Tytos'. "He is apparently sailing north."
He was going north?
Tytos' mind raced. "He is going to see the Starks?"
"The letter did not specify, but I cannot imagine what else would interest him up there."
Still. Why? The Targaryens had been more than happy to keep ignoring the happenings of the North so far. What had changed?
Tytos' mind caught up with the implications. "He wants me to be a part of his entourage?"
"Yes." His father's eyes narrowed. "King Aerys has never seemed interested in his ties to us, but it appears as though his son is different."
Tytos had heard the rumors. The king was proud of his Valyrian ancestry, and thought others were beneath him. It was why he had rejected all sorts of marriage proposals to the crown prince, waiting instead to sire a daughter so that she could become the next queen.
Tytos wasn't sure how reliable the rumors were. Raventree was far removed from King's Landing, and they didn't have a presence in the capital anymore. Still, the fact that the crown prince was now engaged to his younger sister was a fact.
The Targaryens were going to maintain their incestual practices it seemed.
"You will be heading to Dragonstone right away." His father's words snapped Tytos to attention. "If the crown prince wants to turn to us, then we have no reason to deny him."
The Brackens would no doubt throw a fit when they hear of this, but that only made it all the sweeter to Tytos.
"Yes, father."
An unexpected opportunity had just landed on his lap, and Tytos would embrace it eagerly.
---
Stannis Baratheon was still young. He was but nine, but already he had learned the importance of duty. He was the second son, meant to inherit nothing. He was the spare, and so it was his older brother Robert that was meant to inherit their ancestral seat and gain all the glory that came with it.
Stannis did not begrudge this reality. Such was his lot in life, and Stannis understood the importance of family. He would support his brother, just as duty demanded him to.
It was only unfortunate then that he did not know his older brother all that well. Robert had left Storm's End many years ago to begin his fostering in the Eyrie. His older brother returned to visit a few times over the years, but every time he seemed disinterested in Stannis. Apparently he found him a "bore," whatever that meant. Stannis was Stannis. He could not change his personality.
Stannis never complained, though. Not to Robert and certainly not to his parents. What would be the point? Still, Stannis would be lying if he said that he did not feel hurt that his brother did not seem to care for him. They were family, were they not?
Stannis continued to live his life as best he could. He tolerated the mockery and what he felt was a lack of love from his father. Even if the man didn't say it out loud, he could tell that Steffon held more affection toward Robert than he did toward him. His mother was more appreciative of his presence, and Stannis would not deny loving her.
However, it was maester Cressen who was the most supportive presence in his life thus far. The man was practically raising him with how much time Stannis spent in his studies. Stannis trained with the sword well enough, but he knew that he was no great warrior. Not like how Robert was shaping out to be. This too reflected his fate he supposed. His brother would be the one leading from the front while he secured the rear.
Some would call these thoughts joyless and not appropriate for someone of his age, but they were his thoughts nonetheless. It was the reality that he was born into. There was nothing to be done about that.
So imagine his surprise when his father said that there was something he wanted to discuss with him during breakfast that morning.
"Stannis, we have gotten word from Dragonstone. The crown prince has summoned you to join him on a trip to the North."
Stannis tried to process what he had just heard.
"Oh my." It appeared as though his mother hadn't heard of the news until now. "That is a surprise."
Steffon grinned. "But not an unwelcome one. They are cousins as much as Aerys and I are. They should get to know one another. It's unfortunate that Robert is still in the Vale, but no matter. This is fine too."
Stannis tried to ignore the pang in his heart at his father's mention of Robert. Of course he would have preferred that.
"But the crown prince requested Stannis personally, right?" His mother questioned.
"That is true." His father nodded. "The royal family came to Storm's End once, but you were much too young to remember, Stannis. It appears as though the crown prince did not forget about you."
That was true. Stannis had gone to King's Landing once as well, to see the king holing court from his throne. Unfortunately, he hadn't met the crown prince then. He and his twin brother had been out of the capital, taking care of some business on Driftmark. Despite the crown prince's young age, he was already handling administrative duties in his domains. To Stannis, it was impressive and admirable.
And he was going to be meeting with that prince now. They were second cousins, so they weren't immediate family. But it was close enough.
"Why is prince Rhaegal going north?" His mother's question did give Stannis pause. In his excitement, he had forgotten about that crucial detail.
"I don't know. The prince's dealings aren't always well known until after they happen."
True enough. Stannis had heard how Dragonstone was highly secured, more so than usual. It was hard to know what was going on the island.
But who cared about that?
For the first time in his life, Stannis wasn't concerned about the small details. He let his mind wander, and he allowed his excitement to grow freely for what felt like the first time in his life. He never understood why his father had never arranged a place for him to foster in like he had with Robert, but now he was thankful for that fact. He would have missed this opportunity otherwise.
It wasn't just Robert that would be having his own adventures. Stannis would too, and then he could brag about them.
Yes, Stannis was very much excited about this. He was going to leave as soon as possible!
---
Not much changed with the addition of Brynden to Rhaegal's retinue. Daeron was more than a little excited to see a fresh face, though. His younger brother would ask the knight all sorts of questions about the war in the Stepstones, about the battles that he had fought in. Daeron also asked to see the man's custom made sword just as much as he bothered Rhaegal to see Brightflame. His little brother was obsessed with weapons, to the point that it was all that he ever wanted to study with the maesters back in King's Landing.
Shaena thought that Brynden had a scary face, but beyond that his little sister didn't pay too much attention to the newly dubbed Blackfish.
Speaking of, Brynden had a new mail armor commissioned, along with a new sigil to go along with the armor. It was the familiar sigil of house Tully, only the trout was black rather than its normal color.
Brynden was going to go all out with his new nickname it seemed. Rhaegal wasn't sure if Brynden was doing it purely out of spite or if he thought the title was good on its own. Probably a combination of the two.
Surprisingly, a friendship was forming between Brynden and Ser Willem, the two men valuing oaths and honor apparently.
Perhaps he would keep Ser Willem around for an extended period of time. The knight was formidable enough, and he had already sworn his service to the Targaryens. Something else to keep in mind for when he returned.
It was in the following week that ravens started trickling back to Dragonstone. Qyburn relayed the news to him: all summons had been answered favorably. Even the Greyjoys had accepted.
Perfect.
In a perhaps not so surprising twist, the Martells had written that Elia would be coming along with Oberyn to spend some time in Dragonstone. Their uncle, Prince Lewyn Martell, was also coming along to take up his oaths to the king. In the past week, a member of the Kingsguard had breathed his last. His father hadn't forgotten about Prince Lewyn's desire to take up the white cloak, and so he had been summoned to court.
'Yet, Ser Harlan still lives.'
The man was still the oldest of the Kingsguard, but he was still walking around just fine. Whatever he was eating must be doing the knight big favors.
It was after he had received the raven from the Martells that a grinning Ashara approached him out of the blue.
"I'm sure Elia must be disheartened that you did not send for her personally, my prince. Instead you only asked for her brother. That could get people talking, you know."
Rhaegal gave her a bored look. "I keep you around."
Ashara sent him a flat look of her own. "Are you using me to repel any rumors that might come up about you? Is that all I am?" She then leaned in closer to him to whisper into his ear. "But you know, something needs to happen first before you can say that you have proof."
This girl. She was young but knew how to press his buttons.
"This is a dangerous game that you're playing."
"Who says that I'm playing?"
Rhaegal had no response to that. He just clicked his teeth in annoyance as she walked away, victorious.
She won this round.
"You're smart, brother, but sometimes I wonder about your emotional maturity."
Rhaegal didn't need to turn around to know who was approaching him. "Are you making a habit of spying on me now, brother?"
Rhaegar chuckled as he came to stand next to him. "Far be it from me to tell you where to have your flirting sessions, but if you want to be discreet then you shouldn't be in the hall."
That hadn't been his intent. Ashara had just ambushed him….again.
"You should be more careful." Rhaegar's face turned somber. "I know you care for her, but you already have a betrothal."
"Aren't you the one that is always telling me that I should have more than one wife?"
Rhaegal could tell that Rhaegar was taken aback by his words.
"You really care for her that much?"
"Is it that surprising?"
He enjoyed Ashara's company. She didn't treat him differently. Their banter was always great. The two of them were friends, there was no doubt about that. It was easy to let his guard down around her. It helped him feel more normal.
But maybe his brother was right. Maybe he spent so much time in his head that sometimes he failed to realize that emotionally he might be the same as everyone else his age. In which case, was this nothing more than a passing fancy?
"Father would never agree to a match like that," Rhaegar said softly. "And besides, there are more appropriate matches, don't you think? If you bothered to pay more attention, then I'm sure you'd know what I mean."
More appropriate matches?
"I've seen you and Arthur sharing enough glances to understand what you mean, brother."
Rhaegal wasn't blind. Maybe he was a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but that was hardly his fault. He spent too much worrying about his plans that maybe he had become a little emotionally stunted. Having been fully conscious from the beginning of his life hadn't helped him any. He had taken many things for granted.
Sometimes it was like he was constantly in conflict with two different people.
Regardless, Rhaegal knew damn well whom his brother was pushing him toward.
"I'm not going to let my brother decide my romantic interests for me," Rhaegal said. "Besides, this was just all a hypothetical. I'm already promised to our sister, and I wouldn't betray her like that."
Rhaegar didn't look convinced. "If you say so."
The conversation ended there….for now.
---
It was Tytos who arrived at Dragonstone first, followed by Stannis.
Rhaegal welcomed them both. They were extended family, and Rhaegal was more than happy to treat them as such, even if it was a little difficult to do so with Stannis.
Both boys were surprised to see Brynden Tully at Dragonstone, and they were more surprised to hear that he had entered into Rhaegal's service.
Yes, Rhaegal was making connections everywhere.
Rhaegal allowed his siblings to get acquainted with them as well, even if Shaena was a little shy at first. She wasn't used to meeting new people as she spent most of her days in the Red Keep, but her shyness quickly left her and she treated them as friends.
Mace arrived after, and there was a similar greeting.
The Lord of Highgarden expressed his joy at being invited, even if he was a little apprehensive about traveling all the way to the north. What was the more amusing part was how the young lord became enamored with Ashara, but that wasn't anything new. Despite remaining cordial with Mace, for the most part Ashara gave him the cold shoulder. And for her, that meant just smiling politely whenever he would talk to her, but she never engaged with him on her own initiative.
Either Mace was being optimistic with his chances or he was blind to her rejection.
Half a week later Oberyn arrived with Elia and their uncle in tow. Ashara and Elia had immediately hugged upon their reunion while Rhaegal remained more formal. While he and Elia regularly communicated through letters, this was only the second time that they were meeting in person. That said, there was no denying that Elia was growing to be quite a beauty as well. She was slender, and her dark eyes twinkled in joy when she saw him. However, despite being older than Ashara, she was still of a smaller chest, something that Rhaegal inadvertently noticed.
Blame his eyes, not him.
Oberyn was more informal about the whole thing despite his uncle's warnings, which was entertaining in its own right. He had asked for a match right away to see who was the better fighter: him or Rhaegal.
Rhaegal had no reason to deny him, and so the two had an impromptu sparring match. Under strict supervision from Ser Gerold and the other knights, the two were allowed to use live steel for this.
Of course, Rhaegal went with Brightflame while Oberyn favored using a spear. It was going to be the first time that Rhaegal would be facing off against someone who preferred the ranged weapon as their primary weapon.
It was an interesting match to say the least.
Oberyn was slender, and this helped him with his speed as well as his flexibility. His thrust attacks were nothing to scoff at, and initially Rhaegal had no choice but go in the defensive and block the incoming attacks with Brightflame. However, initially, any time that he was able to successfully parry Oberyn's spear, the Martell would simply flip back to put distance between the two of them again before charging back in with his thrust attacks.
"T'ch, are you a dancer or something?" Rhaegal couldn't help but taunt him. "All those fancy flips. You belong in a traveling troupe."
Oberyn laughed at this. "Whatever keeps you far away. You've built up some muscle since the last time I saw you. The last thing I need is for you to get in close enough to make use of them."
Fair play. Despite being younger, Rhaegal had more muscle mass in comparison to Oberyn. So he was going to use his speed and acrobatics to keep him at a distance and presumably tire him out.
If only he realized how pointless that was. If a skilled knight like Barristan couldn't tire him out in a duel, then there was no chance of Oberyn being able to do it.
Still, for the moment, Rhaegal let Oberyn continue with his strategy. He parried Oberyn's spear well enough, and in the end he could use Oberyn's own strategy against him.
Which was what he ended up doing. Oberyn's attacks became less refined as time went on as he quickly grew tired from having to keep his distance and repeatedly trying to pierce Rhaegal's defenses.
One messy thrust was all Rhaegal needed in order to parry the spear out of Oberyn's grasp. It was quick, and before Oberyn could react Rhaegal already had Brightflame pressed to his neck.
"Yield."
The tired Oberyn was stunned for a moment before grinning. "You got me. I yield."
There were claps around the practice yard from the onlookers. Sometime in the middle of the fight the servants in the castle had started spectating as well.
"That was well fought," Barristan praised as he walked up to them.
"You don't have to be so kind, Ser." Rhaegal felt a bit frustrated about the match. "I only won because I could outlast him."
He had never fought someone like Oberyn before, who was well-versed in fighting from a range. He should have been able to close the distance and finish the fight more decisively.
Oberyn snorted. "You won, and you're still not happy with the results? You're a greedy one, aren't you?"
Prince Lewyn chuckled. "I wouldn't feel too frustrated, my prince. Oberyn is skilled enough to defeat many inexperienced knights in Dorne despite his age."
"I think you did well." Ashara flashed him a smile.
Elia nodded. "I agree. It was magnificent, my prince."
Her stare felt a bit too intense for his liking, but Rhaegal accepted her praise with a nod.
Still, from then on until their last guest arrived, Rhaegal asked Oberyn to spar with him to get a better grasp of his fighting style. Arthur and Rhaegar joined in as well. As did Tytos, who looked eager to be sharing the training yard with them but to also be given some tips by members of the Kingsguard. Later Stannis started taking part too, apparently having been a bit shy to come forward at first. How unexpected.
Only Mace had been truly hesitant, but he quickly came around. He was by far the worst fighter out of all of them, but he still tried nonetheless. Some lords couldn't even do that much.
Daeron tried to join them, but Rhaegal forbade him, much to the boy's grumbling.
Shaena always cheered for him when they sparred, which was nice. What was even more nice was how Prince Lewyn sort of took her under his wing and started teaching her to use a bow. Supposedly Elia had a little bit of training in that field as well, as had other Princesses of Dorne in the past.
Not wanting to be left out, Ashara had asked for some lessons as well.
After seeing his sister training with the bow, Daeron had asked to join too. He didn't want to be the only one not doing anything fun. To this, Rhaegal had agreed.
"Mother would be horrified if she saw this," Rhaegar whispered to him one day when they were watching their sister get some of her marksmanship lessons.
"She's a Targaryen. She's different from the other ladies of the kingdom." Rhaegal didn't see a problem with it. Visenya and Rhaenys had been fighters too, more notably Visenya. But the point remained.
The Targaryens couldn't be judged by the same standards.
During this time, Rhaegal did not miss how Elia would do her hardest to spend as much time with him as possible, even if she had to intrude with his conversations with Ashara. He could tell that it was something that Ashara did not appreciate, but she never said anything about it either. However, tension started building up beneath the surface, and it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.
However, before any fight broke out, the last member of their group finally arrived: Euron Greyjoy.
The young Greyjoy was warmly welcomed, but he took in the sights with a quiet demeanor. Stannis was someone who was often quiet too, but Euron took it to a whole new level. Rhaegal wasn't sure what to make of him, not yet, but it wouldn't be long before he got the measure of him. The same with the others.
With Euron's arrival, Rhaegal could finally set his sights north.
At long last, the dragon eggs were going to be within his grasp.