Rhaegar spurred his horse, racing from the Dragonpit Camp back to the Red Keep.
Behind Rhaegar rode his retinue of knights.
The king's page was pale with panic; the matter had to be dire.
The very name Maidenpool cast a shadow across Rhaegar's mind.
House Darklyn of Maidenpool was now a second- or third-tier house; with King's Landing ascendant, few cared what happened there.
Rhaegar strode into the council chamber and found the mood already foul, every face daubed with gloom.
Nearly every White Knight was gathered, weapons in hand, eyes hard.
The chamber looked different: a haggard Queen Rhaella was present, while Crown Prince Aerys, the master of ships, was missing.
Rhaegar's heart lurched.
His gaze swept the great Lords, faces once bright with glory and pride, now twisted by anger, hatred, or dread.
A map of Maidenpool lay on the table; the second-rate port had never before drawn such attention.
"Sit, Rhaegar. House Darklyn has risen in revolt; they hold your father." King Jaehaerys spoke in a rush.
So the Darklyns truly hate the iron throne, Rhaegar realized; they would rebel regardless—and now they've taken Father. Has the wheel of fate simply turned early?
"Ser, you escaped Maidenpool—report," the king commanded a travel-stained youth: Ser Lake, an enemy of the Darklyns who had fled to King's Landing with the news.
"Lord Denys is young but doubly greedy. He took a Myrish mistress called the Lace Serpent, and coin soon ran short. Remembering Maidenpool's old prosperity, he asked leave to set his own tariffs. The Small Council refused only days ago, yet Denys' greed festered. When Crown Prince Aerys sailed the coast collecting stone for the Dragonpit, the Darklyns lured him ashore, slew a Kingsguard and many guards, and told the king to heed their terms."
"Damned Myr again—those filthy apes and their schemes!" Lord Mond's face flushed. Westerosi loathe Myr and Lys; the customs clash, and more than one Targaryen prince has fallen to their blades.
"They murdered a Kingsguard, abducted the Prince of Dragonstone, and dare dictate terms?" King Jaehaerys' face was livid; abduction alone was treason, yet they demanded concessions.
Rhaegar mourned Aerys and, silently, the Darklyns; the crime of treason would wipe them from the board. Speed was vital: captivity breaks a man's mind, and Maidenpool's proximity meant any sign of weakness would embolden every other lord.
"They want the iron throne to grant Maidenpool the right to set its own customs, repeal every law of Aegon V that curbs noble privilege, and allow the Darklyns to head an autonomous council giving the town self-rule. That Myr witch poured poison in his ear," Ser Lake added, voice low.
A Myr again, Rhaegar mused; Lord Denys and his Lace Serpent were made for each other.
No spy had reached Maidenpool, and none had dreamed Denys would be so reckless—too young, too forgettable.
Denys dreamed of the days before King's Landing, when Maidenpool thrived. His Myr mistress whispered of the Free Cities' liberty: your modest demands are nothing.
"Treason! But how did the prince walk into such an obvious snare?" Lord Mond thundered.
Lord Tywin glanced at Rhaegar. "The prince sought stone for Prince Rhaegar's Dragonpit. The Darklyns offered it free, baiting Aerys—who came with only a small escort. The moment he landed, the trap closed; Ser Gawen died shielding him."
Rhaegar kept silent. Fetching stone was a minor task, yet Aerys had embraced it as his grand purpose—and walked blindly into the net.
"Fool! He's no dragon—he's a goose! I wish I were a farmer; I'd crack his skull with a ladle!" King Jaehaerys' fury boiled. He was squeezing the nobles, and now this.
"Father," Queen Rhaella broke in, distraught. "With his Kingsguard dead, will Aerys be safe?"
The king had no answer; the Darklyns had already slain Ser Gawen and chained the prince.
"Summon the Royal Fleet, the Red Keep garrison, every loyal lord—strike by land and sea," Lord Mond declared.
"I can ride at once," Rhaegar said. "Four hundred swords, all veterans."
The revolt must be crushed fast and hard; delay would break Aerys and shatter royal prestige.
"Maidenpool's walls are strong, the Darklyn keep dominates the harbor, and the prince is hostage," Lord Tywin warned. Ever the careful commander who had drowned Castamere, he prized surety over flair, and his words silenced the room.
"I propose two forces—one to pin them, one to strike," Rhaegar said, eyes on the map.
"Explain," King Jaehaerys ordered.
"A feint to parley, while a second force slips inside and frees my father," Rhaegar answered.
Hostages are their only leverage; once Father is safe, Maidenpool stands alone.
"Let me enter Maidenpool and bring the prince out. Give me a day," Ser Barristan said.
Rhaegar met his gaze; of all the White Knights, only Barristan combined courage with wit—true steel.
"I will treat with Lord Denys—or take my father's place," Rhaegar offered.
Queen Rhaella protested; she would not lose son as well as husband.
"Too perilous, prince. We cannot risk both heirs in Maidenpool," Lord Tywin urged. A disguised rescue was one thing; sending a second royal hostage to negotiate was madness.
"My youth is my disguise, yet my blade remains sharp!" Rhaegar drew his sword and leveled it at Maidenpool on the map.
"Let the prince parley only after I am inside. I'll stir the nest first," Ser Barristan proposed—a sound plan.
No one spoke; the scheme might work.
"Once Aerys is free, storm the town. Every Darklyn and in-law involved dies as an example," King Jaehaerys vowed, eyes hard. He had been lenient; the iron throne would not be mocked.
The plan was set—hammer and anvil.
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