45 I’m back here’s Chapter 43
Dragonstone – Tygett
Their trip to Sharp Point, along the Gullet at the northern end of Massey's Hook was without incident. House Bar Emmon was sworn directly to Dragonstone, but the castle and watchtower were primarily abandoned, save for a few feeble older men who continued to keep the great fire that served as a guidepost for ships, alight.
Whispers and rumours abounded that more of the Royal Fleet had been seen sailing from Dragonstone across the Narrow Sea towards Pentos.
Neither Tygett nor Stannis had any way of confirming if this were true.
Their next stop was Dragonstone and should this be a feint by the Royal Fleet; it was possible they would be sunk before they could even be granted entrance to the island.
The ravens that Tywin and Tygett sent had gone unanswered, and it was a grim crew that set sail from Sharp Point, across the Gullet and towards that tiny outcropping of land where the first Targaryens had landed, three hundred years earlier.
"They were not the only ones said to have survived the Doom," Stannis said pensively as they stood at the front of the galley. The winds were in their favour today, and they were making excellent time. There were clouds in the sky, but white and in the distance, and Stannis seemed unworried about the weather they might encounter.
"Hmm?" Tygett asked, not understanding the Storm Lord.
"The Targaryens who made their home on Dragonstone. They were not the only people from Valyria to survive. Not at first. But when the Doom happened, the seeds of discontent they had sewn in Essos, enslaving and conquering the people of that region for so long, won them no friends. What few were not on Dragonstone quickly perished."
Tygett didn't have much to say to that.
He wasn't sure what Westeros might be like if the Targaryens and their beasts had never come to their shores. Sansa spoke, on occasion, of breaking the Seven apart – allowing each region to go back to the state in which it had been before the invasion.
It was an admirable idea, but even though Targaryen history was only three hundred years old in Westeros, it was all any of them had ever known. Tygett knew that not all regions were equal, and some might press their advantage, with no King to hold them in check.
Much better to work within the already established system, he thought. They knew how to rule in the world they now occupied.
Tygett did not envy his brother, trying to keep up with a modern woman like Sansa, who spoke her mind and had strange ideas when it came to governance, ruling and the equity of all. No matter Tygett's issues with his older brother, he'd always been secure in the place that he occupied and the status of his House. Sometimes when Sansa spoke, Tygett worried she wanted too many changes all at once.
"Have you been to Dragonstone before?" Tyg asked Stannis.
The young man shook his head.
"No."
Both men had studied the island, growing up in the households they had, and they knew it was unlike anywhere else in Westeros. Even Dorne didn't have the strange features that one would find on Dragonstone, and while it had never been a place Tygett had wished to visit, now that they were nearing the island, he found himself curious.
The next day, mid-morning, the first pale grey wisp of smoke was spotted – marking Dragonstone.
The smoke was from the Dragonmont, the volcano on the island of Dragonstone, which gave rise to the island itself. It was here where the Valyrian Freehold had constructed Dragonstone, their stone fortress to mark westernmost expansion.
That the volcano was still active made Tygett uneasy, as did the entire island. There was a smell to it – sulphur and brimstone. It was an unpleasant odour that had Tygett wrinkling his nose in disgust.
While the villagers lived in dwellings below the looming shadow of the mountain, Tygett saw few areas where they might grow the food they needed to survive. Everywhere he looked, the land seemed rocky and steep. The winds howled, and it was a dreary place and not one where Tygett wished to be for long. Whomever held Dragonstone would need the pledge of houses like Rosby and Duskendale to ensure they were well fed. This was not a place where crops grew in easily.
"It is said that one can find black glass in such abundance beneath the mountain, that there are boulders as big as a small home in the tunnels below."
Tyg grunted. He had no desire to explore such tunnels.
"I heard that six wild dragons still call the mountain their home – and that when the mountain rumbles, the dragons come to life."
Stannis snorted, but both men shared a look.
So little was known about dragons, but one thing was for sure – they lived a long time. Longer than the average life span of a man. If even one such beastie was on this island, it wasn't a place where Tygett Lannister wanted to linger. That the first Targaryens had consolidated their power by growing their dragons here, in the firepits of the Dragonmont, did not make him feel any better.
If it could be done so long ago, who was to say they couldn't do it again?
And there was no denying that the two children Tygett had fallen in love with had dragon blood in their veins.
Militarily, Tygett hated that House Lannister did not hold this island. It was a strategic point for the eastern defence of Westeros, and if they could convince Rhaella to leave, this would all become Aegon's one day.
While Tygett may not like Dragonstone, he understood its importance and he would defend Aegon's birthright, with blood if necessary.
"Are you sure you love Princess Elia enough to live in this miserable place?" Stannis grumbled as both men eyed this island with distaste.
The truth was, Tygett was sure about his feelings for Princess Elia and her children. Like his brothers before him, when Tygett had fallen in love, that had been it. His fate was sealed. He belonged to Elia in a way he'd never belonged to anyone else. If that meant he had to make his home on Dragonstone, then so be it.
"Yes," Tygett replied, watching Stannis shake his head in disbelief.
"I'll let it be yours, lion," the stag muttered, clearly taking a great dislike to this place.
Tygett imagined they would spend considerable time in King's Landing, even when it became Aegon's. Dragonstone was not for lions, of that he was sure and the capital was close enough. He didn't think Elia would like living here anymore than he did.
As they came closer, the Keep itself came into Tygett's view.
It was an impressive stone fortress, larger than he'd imagined. The castle was built on the volcano's face, with the port nearby. Since there was so little opportunity to grow food or raise livestock, the people of Dragonstone relied upon the sea for their substance. Which meant their port was surprisingly large for an island this size. It contained taverns, inns and whorehouses, the last of which had Stannis frowning as if the man found the very idea of such women distasteful.
For the first time in his life, Tygett wouldn't be visiting the local whores. He had no desire for any woman other than the one who awaited him back in King's Landing.
But he wondered why Stannis wouldn't indulge. The man wasn't betrothed and had no one waiting for him. Men did this all the time and this was how these women made their coin. And everyone had heard how liberally Robert had planted his seed in the Vale.
He studied Stannis, noting the downturn of the man's lips.
Realization dawned.
"Don't tell me you've never felt the sweetness of sinking into a warm cunt?" Tygett crudely blurted out, making Stannis's lips tighten in a thin line.
"I have not. Robert did enough fucking for the both of us."
Tygett snorted.
"Lad, I am the first man to admit when my heart is taken. But until you have said your vows, or found the one who has captured your heart, do not deny yourself the pleasures of a warm and willing woman."
Stannis said nothing, his fists clenched, and Tygett let the matter drop.
He thought it would do Stannis some good to lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh for a few hours, but if the man didn't want to, Tygett wouldn't push.
They circled to the north-eastern part of the island, where the port lay, and where they expected to find the Royal Fleet. So far, no one had approached them on the open sea, and both men were tense, wondering if this were a trap.
But it appeared as if the rumours at Sharp Point had been true. The Royal Fleet was nowhere to be found.
They anchored in the deep waters of the port, seeing people stop to stare at their small armada and rowed ashore with two hundred well-armed men. They took the beach quickly, meeting no resistance. In fact, once they had secured their mounts, the villagers seemed to fade into their crofters' huts and eye them warily as Tygett and Stannis rode for Dragonstone Castle.
Like at Sharp Point, they found only a few men outside the massive Keep, its impressive stone walls were able to push back any who would attack, but no archers lined the walls and few were there to greet them upon their arrival.
It was a brilliant location for a castle and easily defendable, even if Tygett would never understand why the dragons wished to be so close to the volcano.
Atop the craggy hills where the castle was located, there were actual grasslands for grazing livestock, and in the distance, he saw cottages dot the landscape. The fluffy white clouds in an otherwise cerulean blue sky were at odds with the puff of grey smoke the rose continuously from the top of the mountain. A mountain that loomed over everything on this island.
Oddly enough, the higher they rose, away from the sea, the greener and sunnier Dragonstone became.
Still, when they thundered through the massive gatehouse that wasn't manned, something uneasy settled in the pit of Tygett's stomach. The castle was far too still – too quiet. It was as if it had been abandoned, although they saw signs of life in fires that burned and the smell of bread baking.
Something odd was at work here, something that had the hairs on Tygett's neck standing on end.
Tygett had known Rhaella, though he'd been a young boy when he'd come to Court. She had always seemed frail to him and distant and unhappy. Now he knew why. Upon hearing about the horror in which she had lived, how Aerys' developed a fetish for attacking her only after he burned people and learning that Jaime guarded her while listening to her screams for Aerys to stop, Tygett felt the rage bubble up inside him. No woman should be treated in such a way by her husband.
Still, her treatment by Aerys didn't negate the fact that until a month ago, Rhaella had been Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Why was there no one guarding her?
Where was the Royal Fleet?
Why had Rhaegar sent three of his best men to the Tower of Joy for Lady Lyanna Stark, but Aerys had left his wife and second son so vulnerable?
Why were there no Kingsguards here, with the former Queen and her son, Aerys' heir?
Why had the Mad King sent her here? Did he wish her and Viserys to perish? Had he thought they could repel an attack easier on Dragonstone?
None of it made any sense to Tygett.
Both men heard the screams at the same time and exchanged a knowing look.
Tyg had last heard screams like that was in the Lannister camp when Elia had laboured to bring Aegon into this world, which meant that Rhaella must be somewhere inside. The only question that remained was where Viserys was?
Aerys had sent his Master at Arms, Ser Willem Darry, with Rhaella and Viserys, but they found no one of his status there when they burst into the main hall.
Indeed, the inside of the castle seemed just as desolate as the outside, with servants scurrying about but no other movement forthcoming.
Tygett reached out and grabbed a man who was hurrying by with stacks of bedding.
"Where are Rhaella and Viserys?" he barked, shouting at the man, whose eyes had gone impossibly wide.
"Where are Rhaella and Viserys?" Tygett repeated as the man began to stutter.
"Answer him!" Stannis demanded.
"The Queen is in her chambers, birthing her child. King Viserys is no longer on Dragonstone."
Tygett snorted.
"There is no King Viserys. Haven't you heard? Lions rule the Seven now. Your new King is Tywin of House Lannister."
He let go of the man and gestured with his sword.
"Take us to Rhaella."
The man paled.
"But she is on her birthing bed, My Lord!"
"Take us to her or I'll cut your throat and find her myself," Tygett repeated, voice deadly with intent.
The man bobbed his head and hurried up a winding staircase made of dark stone. Everywhere Tygett looked, it seemed like black glass shone. They reached the top and hurried down a corridor to one of the towers of the castle and burst into a large room to find it warm, a fire blazing, with a half-naked Rhaella, legs spread wide, panting and screaming as blood soaked the sheets beneath her.
It stunk of death inside the room, and Tygett knew that she would not survive this birth. His mind flashed to his goodsister, Lady Joanna and her death – also bringing one of Aerys' children into the world. Was the man that cursed that women died birthing his seed?
Rhaella's purple eyes went wide upon spotting him and Stannis, though the Storm Lord quickly turned away from the former Queen and the state she was in.
Tygett did not. He needed answers. Rhaella was dying, but she had enough presence of mind to send her son away. If she wished for the child in her womb to survive, she'd give Tygett Viserys' location.
She was trembling, and he swallowed hard, knowing that these were her last few moments alive. She notched her chin in defiance, but in them, Tygett saw something – this was a woman who had been broken, with no hope left. Except for that of the child still in her womb. That was where Tygett would get his answers
"Your husband is dead, My Lady, burned at the stake for his attempt to kill every man, woman and child in King's Landing with Dragonfire. Your children are safe from him," Tygett said.
"From lions? Ha! Where was Lord Tywin when his friend spun into madness? Tywin abandoned his King and will do the same for his children."
Tygett shook his head.
"He has recognized Prince Aegon as Rhaegar's heir to Dragonstone. This island and the crownlands are to be given to him, as is his right."
Her eyes widened, even as she shook her head.
"No. They said ---" she paused and swallowed hard and then screamed through another contraction, weeping and gasping when it was over, lying weakly on the bedding, where the blood beneath her only grew.
"They said Lord Tywin would kill us. Kill the dragons. But they are alive? My grandchildren?" she whispered, reaching for Tygett's hand.
He laid his sword down and took her hand in his.
"Yes, My Lady. They are alive. Safe and unharmed." He paused. "Loved."
Another pause.
"Where is Viserys? He will be granted the same protection as his niece and nephew."
She was fading fast, her skin turning pale beneath his watchful gaze, as her pulse became thready. Tygett glanced up to the Maester.
"She is dying," the Maester said, shaking his head.
Tygett swallowed hard, not knowing what to do. Rhaella was beyond saving, but her child was not.
Could he allow an innocent to die when he had the chance to save it? Even knowing that if he saved that child, that child might one day turn against not only him but his house?
But how could he let this child die when he would willingly give his life for Rhaenys or Aegon? This baby was their aunt or uncle – their blood. How could Tygett allow that to happen and live with himself?
Knowing he could not and unsure whether he was damning his house or not, he barked out the order.
"Maester, you will save this child!" he commanded.
Rhaella's eyes fluttered open.
"Her name is Daenerys," she whispered, voice so soft he almost did not hear.
Tygett realized she was naming her unborn child.
"Say it," she demanded.
Tygett swallowed hard. "Her name is Daenerys."
Rhaella's eyes closed, a look of contentment on her face.
"And if it is boy, My Lady?" Tygett asked.
She gave a fluttering smile with the barest twitch of her lips. She was so weak now that she had mere moments to live.
"Aemon."
Tygett nodded – he was Rhaella's great-uncle and served at the Night's Watch. No one could find fault with that name.
Her eyes closed once more, and Tygett was joined by Stannis, who looked grim and uncomfortable with everything that was happening.
"Red door in Braavos," she whispered her last words that she ever spoke.
Somehow, and Tygett would never be able to explain how, she found the will to push and bring her child into this world, holding her for a mere moment, before her arms slacked and she took one final, shuddering breath as the baby's wail pierced the grim room. Life and death in the same instant.
The newborn was promptly cleaned, swaddled, and handed to the young woman who would serve as the nursemaid to Daenerys Targaryen since her mother was now dead.
Rhaella had given birth to her first daughter, though she did not live more than mere moments past bringing the child forth into this world.
They burned her body, two days later on a great pyre, on the moors of Dragonstone. Tygett held the infant in his arms, somehow having become her de facto caregiver. He didn't argue much. He knew that Elia would love her goodsister and little Rhae, her aunt. He knew that he'd made the right decision when it came to keeping this child alive.
They questioned the help, learning that Ser Willem Darry had fled with Viserys and the Royal Fleet to Braavos. Tygett and Stannis knew there was naught they could do. They did not have the armada to chase after the Royal Fleet and those were not their orders.
For now, Viserys had escaped.
They left their men in charge of Dragonstone, along with several ships from House Manderly in the North and Stannis's men and a fortnight after landing on Dragonstone set sail for King's Landing, one tiny dragon in Tygett's arms and the easternmost border of Westeros firmly in Lannister and Baratheon hands.
King's Landing – Jaime
Logically, Jaime had known that his father had two lion cubs that were loyal to him. He'd been told the incredible story of Sansa rushing from the tent when they'd been on the River Road towards the Rock and leading his father, uncles, and Jaime's closest childhood friend into the mountains to find the dying lioness and her two cubs. He had heard how his father and his men cut down the wild dogs that would have killed the cubs and Sansa had rushed forward, unafraid of them.
Jaime knew what lions looked like – they were everywhere at the Rock.
But somehow, he hadn't been prepared to see them – alive and well and tumbling over one another, growing and playing with each other.
He hadn't been prepared for how entertaining the cubs were, nor how he could almost instantly tell them apart, or for how protective he'd felt over them from the first moment he spotted them.
His father, who'd never allowed Jaime or Tyrion any type of pet, preened and puffed as the cubs were brought to Eastern Den. Sansa was like a mother hen, hovering over them, though Jaime knew these beasts would grow into killers soon enough.
Odder still was the young man his father had named Master of Lions and welcomed into their retinue.
The man, only a few years younger than Jaime, was massive though not as large as his older brother. Jaime grimly remembered what his father had shared about Cersei and Gregor. That was an unpleasant thought, so Jaime pushed it from his mind and instead focused on this Lord Sandor Clegane, with his half-scarred face and elegant clothing.
Jaime didn't remember House Clegane having quite so much status as they appeared to have now. They were kennelmasters and barely above landed gentry.
And yet here, Sandor stood, amongst the King and Queen of the Seven, seemingly at ease with his father and his pretty wife.
Sansa had been overjoyed to see the young man, who'd blushed and stumbled over her words of admiration. Even his father had been rather effusive in his praise for Clegane, and Jaime knew it had to do with Sandor almost dying to protect Sansa from Gregor at the Rock all those months ago.
The cubs were in the carriage with the women, leaving Jaime to ride beside Sandor.
"Have you ever been to the capital?" Jaime asked
"No."
Jaime frowned.
"Your clothing indicates otherwise. If my eyes are not mistaken, you are wearing some of the latest fashions," Jaime quipped.
Sandor huffed out an impatient breath and mumbled something under his breath that Jaime didn't catch.
"What was that? Speak up, Clegane," Jaime ordered, not realizing how much he both sounded and looked like his father at that moment.
"I said those aunts of yours are as meddlesome as Lady Sansa is," he growled.
Jaime threw his head back, laughing gaily.
"Oh gods, Genna got ahold of you then?"
"Not just her. Lady Dorna as well," Clegane grumbled.
Jaime was grinning now.
"And did they feed you? Those women are meddlesome but well-meaning," Jaime added.
Sandor's grunt told Jaime all he needed to know. It appeared House Lannister had well and truly accepted Lord Sandor Clegane as one of theirs.
Jaime pointed out landmarks to Sandor as they worked their way through the thick crowds that lined the streets, back towards the Street of Mansions where Eastern Den was.
"And over there is the Street of Silk," Jaime said, wiggling his eyebrows at Sandor.
The big man blushed.
"Don't think any woman, whore or not, wants to look at this face no matter how much gold I pay her," he muttered.
Jaime snorted.
"Clegane, you're a Lord. You've been named the King's Master of Lions. And the Queen adores you. Trust me. The least of your issues will be women not wanting you. If anything, you'll have to be cagey as to whom you let into your bed."
Sandor looked at Jaime, side-eyeing him.
"He told you what happened," Sandor stated.
Jaime nodded grimly, losing all sense of lightheartedness.
"I know that you saved her."
Both men glanced towards the carriage that held the Queen.
"I don't know how my father would have survived her loss," Jaime told Sandor honestly.
The big man said nothing for a time, until finally, just as they turned onto the street that held Eastern Den, he spoke.
"She found me at Riverrun watching the pups her father's prize hound had just whelped. When Lord Tywin found her with me in the kennel, he was angry. She berated him, right there, in front of me. They left, and when they returned, they sent me to your uncle, Tygett, to train. It was her that earned my loyalty," Sandor said, a hard edge to his tone as if daring Jaime to tell him that he was out of line.
"Good," was all Jaime said. He thought it apropos that it was Sansa whom Clegane almost died to protect – a woman who never would have ask for such a sacrifice and would honour when one was made.
That startled Sandor, as if he had expected Jaime to berate him for not kowtowing to the Mighty Lion himself. Half of Sandor's lips quirked.
"Where am I to stay?" Sandor asked suddenly, looking up at the colossal mansion, whose courtyard they had entered.
"Here at Eastern Den," Jaime said, having great fun with Clegane. "Sansa insisted."
Jaime winked at the man, pleased when Sandor Clegane seemed to pale at that thought. In truth, if he were more comfortable, there was a second residence for their loyal men and guards where Sandor could bunk down. But for now, Sansa had decreed that Sandor would be given a chamber inside the main mansion, with others from House Lannister.
Jaime slid from his horse, handing his reigns to one of the stableboys, and joined his father, who appeared eager to see both his wife and the cubs.
They opened the carriage door to hear giggles and saw little Rhaenys on the carriage floor with two cubs licking her face.
"Not a word, Ser Jaime," Elia warned, wagging her finger at him. "I can only imagine what your uncle will say when he sees how much she loves Alex and Augy."
Tywin frowned at Elia's shortening of his lion's name. It appeared Sansa had gotten to her friend.
Jaime snickered at his father's put out look, although he did not berate his wife. Sansa was positively glowing with happiness, clearly in her element having the two cubs back with her.
Gods, this was fun, Jaime thought. Fun was something Jaime could never recall in his house in his entire life.
His stern, dour, demanding father now had a whole house full of children, lions, and misfits of the realm. His wife, whom Tywin loved almost to distraction, continued to upend life at Eastern Den in the most exciting ways. Jaime adored Sansa for so many reasons, but that was one of the highlights of his father falling in love with a time traveler – how the woman just couldn't let things stay the same. She was a marvel.
Jaime snickered when he heard her announce, "I cannot wait to speak to Cook about the menu for the cubs."
Tywin grimaced as if he knew what Cook would think of having to prepare meals for two animals. Even Lady Catelyn appeared amused by his sister's antics.
Sansa caught Sandor's eyes and waved him over, her face full of unasked questions. Jaime hoped Clegane was prepared.
"Are they eating meat yet?"
Sandor slid from his horse and hunched his shoulders as he stomped towards Sansa, who didn't appear to be bothered by the horrible scar that covered half his face.
"Come Jaime, you as well. Everyone needs to know about the lion's care," Sansa ordered.
There was no arguing with Sansa – not when she was like this. And given the look of intensity on his father's face, he was deferring to Sansa when it came to raising lions. Which meant they all would learn what the cubs required to thrive.
As a group, excluding Elia, who had taken Rhaenys back to her apartments, they invaded the kitchen once more, the cubs eagerly padding after Tywin and Sansa, while Sandor's eyes had gone wide at the opulence of the Den.
"This makes you stare? I thought you've been recovering at the Rock for the past six weeks," Jaime quipped.
Eastern Den was a fine home indeed, but it was no Casterly Rock.
Sandor glared at him, but Jaime thought that the big man was warming up to him.
Jaime heard the shout as Sansa began to speak over Cook.
He grinned at Sandor.
"Come on. You have to see this show," he said and hurried his steps and rushed into the kitchen.
Sansa was standing there, hands on her hips, with an exasperated look on her face.
Cook's face was red as he sputtered and waved his hands around his head in a frustrated gesture, a wooden spoon in his hand. He hadn't cleaned the spoon before waving it, so food flew from it, splattering the kitchen.
"You go too far!" Cook bellowed.
Sansa squared her shoulders to the man, and notched up her chin, fire in those blue eyes. Jaime held back the snicker, winking at Lady Catelyn, who looked both impressed and slight scandalized by her sister's boldness.
Sandor's eyes were wide as saucers, as his head pinged back and forth between Sansa and the clearly angry cook for House Lannister.
"This is hardly up for debate. The cubs require a strict diet to ensure they grow to their full potential. I fail to see why this is a problem."
Their long-time Cook sputtered.
"I cook for people, Your Grace! Not lions."
Sansa snorted.
"Well, of course not. Not until now. No one has cooked for lions in years. And I don't want you to cook for them. Merely prepare three meals daily of meat and ground-up vegetables and fruit to give them the proper nutrients. I will provide the milk for them, but we need to wean them from it sooner."
She frowned and glanced around, spotting Sandor.
The man was huge - almost as tall as that big Lord Umber that had come with Lord Stark but he had tried to shrink against the wall to no avail.
No one could miss him, Jaime thought.
"Lord Sandor, can you please join us and tell us how you've been preparing the cub's meals?"
Jaime was snickering as Sandor reluctantly shuffled forward. It was apparent that the big man wanted to be anywhere but here.
"How did you feed the cubs on your journey?" Sansa asked.
Sandor scrubbed a hand down his neck and shrugged.
"I killed something and let them eat it. And whatever they didn't eat, I packed up and gave it to them the next day, until the meat got too rotten, and I killed something new for them."
Sansa blinked at him, for once at a loss for words.
Jaime couldn't help himself; he howled in laughter, earning a glare from his father.
"Jaime," he growled.
"Come on, Lord Clegane. I will show you to your rooms, and then we can spar. We shall leave my father and his wife to their cubs."
He heard Sansa sputtering and his father working to reassure her that the cubs were fine; better than fine. They are thriving.
That evening, with the cubs in a pile by the massive fireplace in the dining hall, Jaime dragged Sandor to dinner with his family. Sandor had eventually told Jaime how his father had sent men, supplies and gold to rebuild Clegane Keep as if he couldn't believe it. After all, Clegane was now a lord.
For Jaime, it rang true. His father would think he owed Sandor Clegane a debt – and Tywin could not abide being in anyone's debt.
Sandor was quiet during supper, which was fine since Sansa, Catelyn, and Elia carried the conversation. It was only when Tywin addressed Sandor immediately that Sandor finally spoke.
"What word of the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, Lord Clegane?"
Sandor cleared his throat.
"Lady Genna is well on her way to recovery, while Lady Dorna had done your house and her husband a great service in keeping the Rock functioning in top form. Ser Stafford Lannister arrived at the Rock but stayed only briefly before being sent onto Lannisport."
Clegane frowned, and Jaime felt the mood in the dining hall shift – the tension now evident.
"And?" Tywin probed; his fist flexed; eyes locked onto Sandor.
To Jaime's slight astonishment, Sandor notched up his chin.
"And it's said that your goodbrother is angry, Your Grace. He had Ser Armory Lorch with him, and the man is rumoured to fuck his way through the whores of Lannisport faster than a fat Frey can eat a pie. Both men are said to be plotting, and there are dark mumblings from the mansion in which Ser Stafford had ensconced himself in at Lannisport."
Tywin's jaw ground, and he gave a short, curt nod before pushing back from the table, making his excuses and striding away.
Jaime watched as Sansa cast a worried glance down the long hallway where his father had disappeared. Knowing his father, Jaime cleared his throat.
"Give him some time, My Lady. Let him be alone with his thoughts. The issues between my father and Stafford extend beyond what happened here."
Sansa's chin wobbled slightly before she nodded.
Then she plastered a smile on her face and looked at Sandor.
"Tell us all about the cubs, Lord Clegane," she said with false cheer.
Jaime watched as Sandor, a man who said very little, swallowed hard, cursed softly under his breath and then took a deep breath and spoke, telling them all about the antics of two little lions.
Jaime knew that Sandor did it for Sansa because they'd all seen her worry when his father had abruptly left.
When Sansa finally excused herself, Catelyn and Elia did the same, leaving Jaime alone with Sandor.
He cocked his head at the big man and then pushed back.
"Come, Clegane. I believe it is time for two young lords to find a publican and get roaring drunk."
Sandor looked started and then jerked his head, dutifully following Jaime into the warm night, marking the moment where the two men from the West began a friendship that neither one had anticipated, but both sorely needed.
King's Landing – Sansa
Sansa took Jaime's advice and let Tywin have his space. While others might think him angry at his goodbrother, and he likely was, Sansa knew he was more worried than anything.
Since his daughter had betrayed him, Tywin's paranoia had reached new heights.
Not that she blamed him.
They lived in a world of plots, intrigue and betrayals – any one of which could mean their doom.
And considering Tywin's history – the betrayals by loyal lords, his father, his daughter, his closest friend, Sansa knew it was perfectly logical that he'd be concerned about Stafford and what his former goodbrother might do.
Stafford was consumed by the idea that Tywin had sullied his sister's memory and could not abide the fact that the Great Lion had taken a new wife.
When she entered their bedchambers, the lions at her heels, she was alone. She changed into a comfortable tunic-style dress and then grabbed Tywin's robe. With her cubs by her side, she went outside to gaze upon the sea.
She missed the Rock in moments like this.
King's Landing was exciting, and she had plans to work with her newly discovered beans, including refining the chocolate ones into something edible.
But the Rock was the place she'd felt most connected to – even in modern times. Casterly Rock felt like home, as absurd as that might sound.
She felt Tywin before the cubs sensed him. When they did, they startled, standing up and alertly looking to where he exited their bedchambers to join her on the soft sofa outside.
She said nothing, merely put her feet in his lap, feeling his hands on her calves as he absently-mindedly rubbed her skin. It was such a moment of marital bliss that Sansa felt her heart melt a tiny bit. Tywin likely didn't even realize how gently he touched her.
"It is not just fury that I have for my cousin; it is the worry as to what he plots. I know he is angry at me. I know he thinks I have dishonoured his sister's memory. His punishment was severe and meant to send a lesson," Tywin eventually said.
"What is your plan to deal with him?"
Tywin arched an eyebrow.
"I'm surprised," he murmured, some of the tension lessening from his stiff shoulders.
"Surprised that I understand your worry? Or surprised that I do not condemn and berate you for the actions I know you will take to neutralize Stafford?"
"Both."
Sansa hummed, thinking.
"That's fair, although I believe I have done admirably adapting to this time. It is harsh and far more brutal than the world in which I grew up."
She reached for Tywin's hands and rested them on her prominent stomach.
Sansa waited until he met her gaze.
"But I am beginning to understand how ruthless one must be to ensure the survival not only of themselves but for their family. Make no mistake, Tywin, I am a lioness. I will do whatever is necessary to protect those I love."
"Sansa," he growled, fusing his lips to hers.
"I still think that better communication can do wonders for your reign, my love. But Stafford is a worry, especially if that despicable Lorch is with him."
Tywin sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, keeping a hand on the babies.
"I will send a raven to Dorne tomorrow and instruct Kevan to proceed to Casterly Rock and deal with Stafford before returning to King's Landing. It will give him time with his wife and two sons, and it will show Stafford how serious I am about his behaviour."
"Good. Now let us visit with our cubs," she said, clapping in delight when two golden blond heads popped up from where they had been sprawled out on the stone terrace.
Sansa saw a twitch of Tywin's lips and knew that they had made the best decision they could when it came to Tywin's meddlesome cousin.
They would be as vigilant as they could, but Sansa refused to live her life in fear. Not when she had a husband like Tywin by her side and two lion cubs as pets, as well as the wholly unexpected coffee and chocolate. After all, a girl could survive almost anything with enough coffee, chocolate and orgasms.
The following day Sandor was summoned to meet with Tywin, Jaime and Sansa to discuss his duties regarding the lion cubs. Tywin had been entirely serious when he'd given Sandor his new titles, and it was the first official appointment of the new King.
Sandor looked stunned.
"You won't have a seat on the small council when it is formed, but you will become a part of my inner circle. You are expected to continue your work with the lions – their training and overseeing their growth. No expense shall be spared, and you are to report any concerns immediately. You will be paid a handsome wage for this position as well as your elevated title. Lord Sandor Clegane, do you accept this position as Master of Lions for the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"
While Tywin glared at Sandor, the big man sputtered out a weak, "I do, Your Grace."
Sansa beamed at him and then produced the large silver ring, etched with lions.
"Now, everyone who looks upon you knows your role. It should fit your middle finger," she said, handing him the ring.
His huge fingers took the ring, pinching it and examining it.
"Tis a fine ring, little bird. Thank you."
"Thank you, Sandor, for what you've done for our House."
Life fell into an enjoyable routine at Eastern Den.
Tywin sent the raven to those travelling to the Tower of Joy, instructing Kevan to go to the Rock once they had dealt with Lyanna Stark.
Word came first that Stannis and Tygett had been partially successful at Dragonstone – that Rhaella had birthed a healthy baby, a daughter, and that said daughter of Aerys was with Stannis and Tygett. But Rhaella had died shortly after the baby's birth, and Viserys had fled across the Narrow Sea along with the Royal Fleet.
Tywin had taken Tygett's advice about their own Royal Fleet and Jaime knew when Stannis arrived back in the capital, he would be named Master of Ships. He spent hours pouring over his map, looking to the Iron Islands, where no word had come from Balon and then tracing his fingers down the coast, past Lannisport to the Arbour.
The Redwyne Fleet was a tantalizing prize with Ser Paxtor Redwyne in their custody.
It was worrisome, knowing that Viserys was out of their sphere of influence. Still, they soon would have another dragon to raise, and Sansa felt strongly that nurture would have a far more significant effect on these Targaryens than nature.
Elia was naturally excited to receive word from Tygett, and she wiped away a tear as she read Tygett's raven. Sansa and Catelyn had joined her chambers so she could read the raven in privacy.
"What is it?" Sansa asked, curious as to what had Elia so emotional.
"He saved the baby," Elia said softly.
Sansa felt the knot in her throat. She knew what a monumental decision that must have been for a man like Tygett Lannister.
"Did he give his reasons?" Catelyn asked.
Elia shook her head.
"No."
She took a deep breath and Sansa saw a look of peaceful contentment on her friend's face.
"No, but I know it was for Rhaenys and Aegon. That baby is their aunt. He wants a future with me."
Sansa squeezed Elia's hand and nodded, pleased for two people she cared for deeply.
"He does."
"I wanted a great love my entire life," Elia said as they called for a tea service, peppermint, and some sweets. With two women pregnant food was always a good idea.
Sansa was content to spend an afternoon with Elia and Catelyn in the solar, gossiping and talking about men, babies and their families.
"I'm glad that Brandon is dead," Catelyn suddenly burst out as both Sansa and Elia looked at her. Cat looked scandalized and slapped a hand over her mouth while Sansa giggled, joined by Elia.
"It's not funny! A man is dead! I was betrothed to Brandon for years and prepared to do my duty," Catelyn huffed.
Sansa lost her carefree smile.
"Sister, I know. We all know you would have done your duty."
Catelyn sighed and waved a hand.
"Yes. And likely ended up married to a man who already had one mistress and was rumoured to have another."
Sansa didn't know what to say. She looked to Elia, who appeared lost in her thoughts.
"I knew the moment he passed me over at the Tournament at Harrenhal that Rhaegar was no longer mine. How could I not know? Rhaegar won, and yet, he rode right by me to name that harlot his Queen of Love and Beauty."
Elia gave a bitter laugh.
"And then he absconds with her less than a month later? I knew my marriage was over that day."
"I'm sorry. Men can be awful creatures," Sansa said, distressed for her friends.
Tywin had many faults, but infidelity, a wandering eye, or a proclivity for whores or mistresses was not among them. The man was single-minded in his devotion to her.
Elia sighed and reached for an apple tart and bit into it fiercely, her dark eyes flashing.
"They can. But then, they can also surprise you. Do you think I ever imagined myself falling for such a brute of a man?" Elia gave an elegant little snort. "My gods, the man has hair everywhere!"
Sansa laughed and sent a wink to her sister.
"Does Ned have a hairy chest?" she asked her sister, who turned red as her hair.
"He has quite a nice form," Catelyn mumbled.
Elia and Sansa hooted in glee. Cat notched up her chin.
"And he has quite the desire to perform the Lord's Kiss each time we couple," she murmured and then gasped as she realized what she had just said.
Sansa howled and had to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"Oh, you lucky woman," Sansa clapped. "Tywin enjoys that as well."
"What's the lord's kiss?" Elia asked suddenly, and both Tully sisters turned to the princess.
She looked embarrassed, and Sansa rushed to her side.
"Elia, stop. Your husband, were he standing right here right now, would get a piece of my mind! Bah! Are you telling me that Rhaegar never used his mouth on you?"
Elia blushed.
"He would kiss me gently when we started, but that was all."
Sansa's jaw dropped, and then she let out a little growl.
"Men!"
"What am I missing?" Elia asked, almost desperately.
"Elia, the Lord's Kiss is when your husband puts his mouth on your most intimate parts. And then he licks and suckles at you and kisses you in such a way that you peak, flying apart under his fingers and his tongue," Sansa explained, trying as best she could to do so.
"Men do that?" Elia asked, appearing wholly intrigued.
Sansa shook her head. Dorne and House Martell were known for the less repressed sexual culture.
How had Elia ended up the mother of two children, a daughter of Dorne and didn't know what the Lord's Kiss was?
"Oh, men do it," Sansa answered smugly, for she was sure that Tygett would take after his brother in wishing to please his woman.
"And they like it?" Elia asked, losing her shyness, now intrigued.
"Oh yes," Cat answered.
"I hope Tygett likes it," she murmured, sending Cat and Sansa into another fit of laughter. Sansa made a note to speak to her goodbrother when he returned home. She wanted him to give Elia many orgasms.
Talk turned from men to babies, and both Cat and Sansa had endless questions for Elia, who answered them all – even how awful labour was without drugs, something Sansa still couldn't believe she had to deal with.
"The Maester says I am stronger. He thinks that in a few years if I continue to improve, I might even be able to have another baby."
"Elia, I am so pleased."
Elia looked relieved.
"But you know that Tygett doesn't need that to love you. He loves Rhaenys and Aegon, and he's bringing home another child for the two of you to raise together. More than anything, he just wants you."
Elia shook her head.
"I never thought this would be possible for me."
Both Tully sisters agreed.
Their last topic of the day caught Sansa offguard, something that was rare enough.
"When will you send for some more women to make your court?" Elia asked as Aegon woke up and his wet nurse fed him.
Sansa stilled, wondering how she could have missed something so obvious. As Queen, she would be expected to have a court. But the only two highborn women Sansa knew, other than Genna and Dorna, were Elia and Catelyn.
Thankfully, Elia was excited about the topic and began to throw out names, including Ashara Dayne, Arthur's sister and Ysilla Royce, Yohn's daughter.
Sansa promised she would discuss it with Tywin soon and left Elia's rooms with a sense of female companionship that she had rarely experienced in her life.
Odd how she had to come back to find her proper place. The longer she was in this time, the less she missed the modern world. And with friends like she was developing, the love of a man like Tywin, and a family made up of people Sansa liked, she felt like this was where she was meant to be.
Tower of Joy – Ned
They spotted the Tower of Joy easy enough. It was a round thing that stood at the northern edge of the Red Mountains. This end of the Prince's Pass was wide and rocky, and they were able to climb the large hills quickly enough. The Tower itself was red – made of the very sand this land seemed to have in abundance.
The air here was dry and dusty, and it was as if all the green and blue had leached from the land as they'd entered Dorne, leaving the Marches behind. It wasn't a place that Ned found particularly pleasant, and it settled uneasily in him that his sister had ended up here, in what he deemed a bleak landscape indeed.
His throat was parched, as were the palms of his hands, for as they'd turned south, the land became more arid and desolate. Oberyn seemed to take great comfort in being back in his region, but Ned knew this wasn't a place for wolves.
They had with them a hundred men – all loyal knights and highly skilled.
King Tywin had given his orders; he wished all three Kingsguard to be spared and for this endeavour to result in the fewest amount of dead possible. The state that his sister had ended up in was not a secret, and this was not a mission that the King would allow a new war to start from.
The King these men had sworn their vows to was dead. So was his son. The realm was now in the hands of House Lannister, and no harm would come to Lyanna Stark or her child. And none to the Kingsguard as long as they allowed Ned to get to his sister.
Ned saw the three men charged with guarding his sister range themselves outside the Tower. Their white cloaks were distinctive, as was their armour – dulled but still some of the best in the realm.
Ned had to wonder on whose orders were they here – Aerys, the man they'd sworn their vows to, or his son?
Men from the Westerlands led their party, holding the crimson and gold Lannister banner. The breeze that constantly blew in these lands flapped the fabric, so the only sound was a snap that seemed to grate on Ned's nerves.
Their retinue was impossible to miss – a hundred men, fully armoured and mounted on horses. Everyone knew this was no contest. Three Kingsguard, even ones as highly skilled as Arthur Dayne, could not take on a hundred mounted knights.
It was Kevan who approached first. He was the eldest and closest with the King, the brother to the new monarch that ruled them all. While not quite as decadent as Tywin's, his armour still proudly proclaimed to all that he was a lion through and through. It shone in the dull sun, making a statement all its own.
There was a confidence in Kevan that Ned admired throughout their journey. Ser Kevan Lannister was a man who knew his place in this world and was content to serve his house. It would have been much the same for Ned had his brother Brandon lived. However, the idea of Brandon marrying Catelyn made Ned's stomach churn.
Thinking of his wife drew Ned's attention to the three men who awaited them. All were legends. And each had a history with the three men sent from King's Landing to bring Lyanna Stark home.
Ser Gerold Hightower was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He was a bull of a man with strength Ned had rarely seen and known to be blindly loyal to King Aerys and House Targaryen. He was also a member of House Hightower, which held Oldtown, one of the Reach's oldest and most prestigious houses. He would not like that his side had lost – and lost to Tywin Lannister of all men.
Before Ned had left for the Tower of Joy, Jaime had pulled him aside and given Ned a word of advice on the Lord Commander.
"Lord Commander Hightower is absolute in his loyalty to Aerys. Never forget that Stark. No matter how cruel and bloodthirsty the King became, Gerold Hightower would never turn away from him. He and I were there when Aerys executed your father and brother, and despite my discomfort, he said to me that I swore an oath to guard the king, not to judge him."
Jaime spat out the words as if he felt tainted and dirty just expressing them. There was genuine sorrow in Jaime's eyes.
"I am sorry I did not do more to save them."
Jaime's insights into Gerold Hightower had deeply touched Ned. He also felt for Jaime, having to guard a man such as Aerys.
Ser Oswell Whent, great-uncle to his wife and his goodsister, on their mother's side was another one of the three men, here, at the Tower of Joy. Ned wondered what they thought of such an assignment – if they had condoned Rhaegar's actions and orders, or if they had wished to be beside their prince, fighting at the Trident.
And of course, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and the man who fought with Dawn, the most famous sword in Westeros, even more, famous than Ice, strapped to Ned's side. Ser Arthur Dayne was a man who needed no introduction – his reputation proceeding him.
Arthur and Oberyn were close, having spent significant time together when they had been younger. Their mothers had both been ladies in waiting for Queen Rhaella, as had Lady Joanna, King Tywin's first wife.
Ned knew that Jaime held Arthur in high esteem – as did many in the realm. Ser Arthur had a sterling reputation and was rumoured to be the most skilled man with a blade in all of Westeros – even at only twenty-four namedays.
Ned had watched Arthur fight at the Great Tourney of Harrenhal – the largest such tourney in the history of Westeros. Arthur was close with Prince Rhaegar, and even at that tourney, the two men had been involved in an epic tilt.
How could any of them know what that one event would set in motion? That when Rhaegar won, he would make a choice that would send the realm into war for nearly two years?
The tournament was held by Ser Walter Whent, brother of Oswell, in the Year of the False spring. It drew lords and knights from across the realm due to its large purse, and all four Starks had been there – the last time such a thing had happened. When Rhaegar sang that opening night, Benjen had mocked Lyanna for the tears that had gathered in her eyes, listening to the prince.
Ned had wished he'd paid closer attention to his sister – to what he was sure was her crush that was developing for a taken man.
But Ned had his own things to focus on at that Tourney.
His father had not yet secured a match for his second son, and there was a part of Ned that had hoped to win the favour of a beautiful maiden during the tournament.
He had been drawn by the beautiful Lady Ashara Dayne. He did get his dance with Ashara, but only because Brandon had asked for it for him. Later, Ned had watched as Brandon had flirted with Lady Ashara, even though he was betrothed to Catelyn and had a known paramour in Barbrey Dustin.
But Brandon's blood had always run hot, as had Lyanna's. Ned believed it was the Wolfblood inside them both, that was responsible for their rash actions where neither one of them thought about the consequences.
Ned had always been far more dutiful and far more bashful than Brandon, and he knew it was not him that had helped Lady Ashara lose her maidenhood at the tourney. Ned had gone into his marriage as untouched as his wife – a wife he now loved deeply. As uncharitable as it might sound, Ned was glad that Brandon did not have Catelyn, for he would never have remained faithful to her.
No one had expected King Aerys to arrive at the tournament – his madness plain for all to see. Neither had they expected Aerys to name Jaime Lannister to the Kingsguard, then and there, stealing Tywin's heir out from underneath him. The tournament had already been rife with rumour and drama before the first event even began.
There was the incident with the Knight of the Laughing Tree, whom Ned suspected might have been his sister, but to this date, no one had ever confirmed the identity of that knight.
There was the moment when Lord Commander Gerold Hightower broke three lances against Ser Oswell Whent and then fought in the mêlée, while Ser Arthur defeated everyone in the joust except Rhaegar. And it was that moment when Rhaegar, having unhorsed Ser Barristan Selmy, rode past his wife Elia to crown Lyanna Stark, his Queen of Love and Beauty.
Soon after the tourney, word came that Lyanna had been kidnapped, setting in motion the fateful events that had led to the Rebellion.
And now, three of those men were here.
"Greetings, lion," Gerold called, his brow furrowed. He was the oldest of the three men. He had twenty namedays on the youth of Ser Arthur. "You are a far way from your den on the Sunset Sea."
His face was unfriendly, and he already had his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Kevan's face remained neutral.
"I am here at the behest of King Tywin ---"
"We don't recognize any King but one from the proper ruling house – House Targaryen. All others are usurpers to the Throne," Lord Commander Hightower spat, interrupting Kevan. "Kingsguard do not flee."
Ned's stomach twisted at the pure bullheaded stubbornness on the man's face. He had hoped that these three might see reason, considering who now held Westeros.
"Your King is dead. So is his son. The Iron Throne was taken, by conquest, from House Targaryen, by Houses Lannister, Stark, Martell, Baratheon and Arryn. The age of the dragon is done. The time of the lion is upon us," Kevan replied, his voice powerful.
Hightower glared at him and shook his head while Arthur Dayne cocked his, looking thoughtful and pensive and Whent shuffled his feet.
"We swore vows to King Aerys, and we are here, under order from our Prince, son to the King. We hold these vows as sacred," Arthur replied, his voice even.
No matter Arthur's sterling reputation, his words meant nothing to Ned.
Or Oberyn apparently.
"Was it vows to Aerys that had you helping Prince Rhaegar kidnap Lyanna Stark? Was it vows to the king that had you help the prince leave his true wife and children behind? Whose vow were you upholding then, Kingsguard?" Oberyn snarled, his dark eyes flashing with true fury at his long-time friend.
"Elia was alone in King's Landing with him," Oberyn cursed at Arthur.
Arthur turned pensive as he gazed up at Oberyn, who was scowling at the man.
"I did not question what my orders were; only that I was sworn to uphold orders from the King. One of the King's orders was for us to listen to his son."
Arthur paused, frowning and shaking his head.
"Surely a man such as yourself, Lord Stark, understands that; understands that what we did, we did so because of the very vows we swore. Because our honour was on the line if we did not fulfill those vows."
Ned shifted on his horse, trying to tamp down the fury he felt bubbling in my veins. Arthur made it seem like being honourable was somehow wrong, yet he used that very argument to justify his actions.
"Before this Rebellion began, I used to think I knew what good men looked like. I used to think I knew what it meant to be a good and honourable man. And then I discovered the truth – that my sister was not kidnapped, not raped, but that she and Rhaegar put events in motion that resulted in the deaths of far too many good and honourable people – including my father and my brother."
No one said a word, every man staring at Ned.
"Make no mistake, Ser Dayne, your reputation is as sparkling at that sword Dawn you carry so proudly. But it was Ser Jaime Lannister who helped Princess Elia and Rhaenys escape King's Landing while Aerys raged. It was Lord Tywin that convinced House Martell to liberate Storm's End. And it was our alliance that kept a Mad King from burning every man, woman, and child in their beds while they slept! If that is the man you swore your vows to, vows you refuse to break even when the King descended into madness and prepared to kill a million people, well then you are no knight to me, Ser Dayne, and you should be ashamed to carry that sword."
All three men in their white cloaks looked stunned by Ned's speech, while Oberyn and Kevan looked impressed.
"We did not know what the King's plans were. Ser Arthur speaks truthfully. Aerys swore us to protect his son. And when we were with Rhaegar, he swore us to this post – to not abandon him when he needed us most. It was as if our orders came from the King himself," Ser Gerold Hightower snapped a look of extreme worry on his face.
Ned snorted.
"Everyone knew Aerys was mad. You chose to serve him blindly even as he got worse. Just as you chose to serve his son, Rhaegar, when he and my sister cooked up their plan of theirs – one that sent a realm into war and took the lives of thousands!"
Arthur's hand was on the pommel of his sword, his blue eyes intense.
But it was Hightower that could not hold his tongue.
"And why do you think the prince sent us here? To guard Lady Lyanna? He knew if things turned, that if the Rebellion was lost, that Elia and her children would be dead. This child we guard is the last true dragon of House Targaryen, and you will have to kill me before I let you harm them! This child is the true heir to the Throne!" the large man bellowed.
Ned, Oberyn and Kevan exchanged worried glances. It wasn't that they couldn't deal with the Lord Commander; it was just that they preferred there to be no more unnecessary bloodshed. And the man clearly had not understood them when they said that Elia and her children were safe.
"You are wrong, Hightower," Kevan said, all three Kingsguard turning to him.
"What am I wrong about, Ser Kevan?" Gerold asked, frowning.
"That this child about to be born is the last dragon. Jaime's swift and decisive actions saved Princess Elia. She and Rhaenys were rescued by none other than myself and my brother Tygett after Jaime snuck her and Rhaenys out of King's Landing. Both Elia and her daughter are alive today, even after House Lannister has claimed the Throne. The princess gave birth to her son, Aegon, over a month ago in the war Lannister camp. Right now, she and her children are happily ensconced inside Eastern Den, guarded by lions. And it appears that Elia and Tygett have fallen in love."
Arthur's eyes widened as he looked to Oberyn for confirmation, whom he knew would not lie to him. Not about his sister. Oberyn was fiercely protective of Elia. Ned saw the hope flare in Arthur's blue eyes as if he didn't dare to believe Kevan's words.
Gerold looked stunned, while Whent appeared more confused than ever.
"The princess is safe? As are her children?" Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper. It was clear he held Elia in high regard, and to learn that she was alive must be a balm to the man's soul.
These men had genuinely believed that the dragons, all dragons, would have been slaughtered at the end of the Rebellion. Ned had a dawning understanding of why Arthur was so steadfast in protecting his sister – he thought Ned meant to harm her or her child.
Oberyn nodded.
"Every word out of the lion's mouth is the truth. Ser Jaime broke with the Mad King and got Elia and her small daughter to safety. She remains safe and beloved by House Lannister. King Tywin has promised Dragonstone to Aegon, who is Rhaegar's true heir. He has also promised to legitimatize Lady Lyanna's baby as a Stark. No harm will come to the child."
Arthur shook his head.
"Elia had a son?"
Oberyn grinned.
"She did. And she is recovering quite well from the latest birth."
Arthur's lips quirked, despite the seriousness of the situation. Then the man scowled.
"You say that Elia has fallen in love with Ser Tygett?"
Ned heard the incredulity in Arthur's voice. Tywin's younger brother had a reputation – as a man who loved two things. Fighting and fucking. Arthur was right to be worried, based on that alone. But he had not seen how smitten Tygett was with Elia.
Oberyn snorted.
"My niece has wrapped Tygett Lannister, one of the toughest warriors I've ever seen around her little finger. And Elia has done the same."
Oberyn gave a long-suffering sigh.
"I do not understand why my sister loves that bushy lion but, love him she does."
Arthur looked amazed.
"And Ser Jaime did this?"
"He was the one who got them out of the city before Aerys could harm her or the children. Before he began to light everything on fire," Kevan responded, pride in Jaime evident.
"What is this you speak of the King trying to burn down the city?" Whent demanded.
Ned wondered if he had someone he loved in the capital, for the man seemed desperate for information.
"The King put caches of wildfire beneath all the major thoroughfares and the Red Keep. He lit it on fire, prepared to die alongside a million people, convinced he would be reborn a dragon."
All three men in their white cloaks exchanged horrified looks. Perhaps they had been willing to stand by while the King became even more cruel and mad, viler, raping his wife and burning those he deemed traitors. But it appeared that planning to burn the entire capital was a step too far for even these men.
"Ser Barristan and Ser Lewyn?" they asked, wondering about their fellow guards.
"Ser Barristan is in King's Landing, with Ser Jaime. Lewyn died at the Trident, along with Lord Robert and Rhaegar, of course."
"Where is the Queen?"
"The Queen, Sansa, my goodsister, is in King's Landing by her husband's side. Rhaella is on Dragonstone. Provided she bends the knee, she and her children will have their lives spared," Kevan answered, a snap to his tone. He was growing impatient and wanted access to the Tower of Joy where Lyanna was. So did Ned. This endless chatter was getting him no closer to seeing his sister.
Suddenly, a pained wail rent the air and skittered up Ned's spine.
"Stand aside," he growled, needing to be by his sister's side.
None of the men moved.
Oberyn urged his horse forward, leaning down.
"Of everyone here, I am the one who had the most reason to kill Lyanna Stark and that pup she is attempting to whelp. But I gave my word. That is his sister up there. Stand aside, or we will cut you down," Oberyn snarled at the three men.
They looked at one another just as another scream tore through the late afternoon.
It was Arthur that stepped aside first, while Hightower sputtered.
Ned was impressed at Arthur and his rationality in this heavily charged moment. This was the man he'd heard tales about – a man who was willing to lay his life on the line for an innocent. He was a good and kind man and a voice for the common people. A man who did hold his vows as sacred.
And this was a man who wouldn't keep Ned from his sister.
Ned was already sliding off his horse, his sword not even drawn, overwhelmed by his need to get to his sister.
He almost crashed into Ser Oswell, who had not yet moved.
"My wife is your blood, and she is beloved. Ask anyone," Ned growled as Ser Oswell.
He crossed his hands across his barrel chest. Ned was just about to remove Ice when Arthur laid a hand on Whent's forearm.
"Stand aside. Lord Stark will do his sister no harm," Arthur said.
There was another scream, and Ned pushed into Oswell, just as the man stepped back, so he almost stumbled, held up by someone's strong arm.
Blind with his need to get to Lyanna, Ned tore into the Tower.
Ned heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't even look to see who was joining him. He wrenched open the door and took the stairs to the top, two at a time, and skittered to a stop, horrified at the scene before him.
"Seven fucking hells," Kevan muttered, shaking his head, having been by Ned's side the entire time.
"Ned, you've come," Lyanna cried upon spotting him.
She looked to him as if he might save her, but Ned knew she was far too gone.
She was panting, sweaty; her gown rucked up around her distended stomach. Beneath her, the mattress was stained red, and the room smelled – of both life and death. The pitying looks on the two women attending Lyanna told Ned all he needed to know. His sister would not survive this birth.
Ned's heart sunk as he choked back the tears that threatened to fall.
"A son," a woman said and cautiously approached Lyanna, who was now openly sobbing, her arms shaking as she held her son.
Ned felt Kevan's hand gently push him forward, and Ned stumbled towards his sister.
"Look at him, Ned," she crooned.
The baby was gazing upon them, and Ned drew Lyanna's head close to his lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead, so their tears mingled.
Suddenly she let out a pitiful moan and her eyes, wide and scared, met his.
"You'll keep him safe? His name is ----"
"Elia birthed Rhaegar, a son, a month ago. She named him Aegon," Ned interrupted his sister, worried that she might think to give her son the same name as his half-brother.
Lyanna frowned.
"Aegon?"
Ned nodded and then ran a hand over the baby's tiny head.
"I've always liked the name, Jon. Lord Jon Stark of Moat Cailin has a nice ring to it," Ned pressed urgently, begging Lyanna to understand what he was saying to her.
"Jon …. Stark," she stuttered.
Ned nodded.
"Aye. He'll start a cadet branch of our noble house. We shall rebuild that castle to its former glory, and he shall know where he comes from."
"Rhaegar is dead, isn't he?"
Ned nodded at her.
He wanted to berate her, to yell and demand her to apologize for what she'd set in motion. But she was dying before his very eyes, and the words stuck in his throat.
"Love him, Ned. For me," she whispered, pressing her lips to Jon's head before her arms went slack.
Ned managed to scoop his nephew, Jon, into his arms as the baby gazed up at him, eyes far too serious. Both his parents were dead; he was an orphan, and he wasn't even an hour old. When the midwife took the newborn, Ned collapsed to his knees and sobbed over his sister's still form.
It was only when Arthur joined him that Ned finally consented to let Lyanna go.
"Your men are waiting for your command, Lord Stark," Arthur said gently.
Ned wiped his eyes and pressed one last kiss to Lyanna's forehead.
"You are going home, sister," he promised, voice rough.
She would be interred in the Stark family crypt beneath Winterfell. Behind Arthur stood his loyal men. Ned managed to tell them what he wanted, and they nodded, promising they would see to it.
Ned stumbled down the steps of the Tower and outside to find night had fallen. This high, the air was already cool, not that it bothered him. He made it to a scrubby, squat bush before he heaved up what little food he had in his stomach. When he was done, he spat on the dusty ground until someone handed him a flask of water.
It was Ser Arthur who hadn't left Ned's side.
"Drink wolf," Arthur said.
How was it that this man was only a few years older than him, but Ned felt Arthur so much wiser and mature?
Ned had heard how some women talked about Ser Dayne at the Tourney, though he had nothing on Jaime Lannister's golden looks. Arthur had sandy brown hair and blue eyes, and his face was more rugged than handsome. If one didn't know, they'd hardly think that Arthur and Ashara were related. Ashara's beauty was legendary.
"I saw you fight at Harrenhal," Ned blurted out, resting against the trunk of a skinny tree – one of the few that grew in this barren land.
"I saw you dance with my sister," Dayne countered.
Ned paled, swallowing hard.
"That was all I did. Dance with her, once."
Ser Arthur cocked his head.
"I heard that the shy second son of Lord Stark could not keep his eyes off my sister."
Ned closed his eyes and rested his head against the trunk of the tree. Arthur hadn't moved when he opened them, and Ned knew they would have this out, here and now.
"Tis true, I was captivated with Lady Ashara. It takes nothing away from my feelings for my lady wife to admit how beautiful she is. You are a man, and you have eyes, so surely this comes as no surprise to you. But you are mistaken if you think I was bold enough to try anything untoward with her. It was my brother, Brandon, who had to secure a dance for me with her. Months later, he was dead, and I found myself at war, and soon after, marrying my brother's intended."
"Ahhh yes, Lady Catelyn Tully. And how is the second daughter of Lord Hoster? As beautiful as the realm claims?"
Ned felt his lips twitch as the blush stained his cheeks.
"Aye, my Lady wife is beautiful, Dayne. I came to my marriage bed as unspoiled as she was," Ned said quietly, for it was the truth.
Neither man said anything for a moment before Arthur gave a slow nod.
"Oddly enough, I believe you, Lord Stark."
Their time alone was done as Kevan and Oberyn approached them. Ned stood and read the raven that Kevan had composed to King Tywin, adding his seal to Kevan's and watched the bird take to the skies.
That night, camped with their men, Arthur and Oswell joined them around a roaring fire. The mood wasn't jovial; a woman had died here today. Gerold Hightower had disappeared into the Tower of Joy, and no one knew when he might emerge or what his mood might be.
But with the most loyal Targaryen supporter gone, there was a sense of comradery that had been missing earlier when Lyanna had been alive.
It helped that Arthur and Oberyn were close and that Elia and her children were safe.
And when Oswell demanded to know if Lord Stark was a good husband to his grandniece, Kevan took great delight in extolling Catelyn's virtues and the love between the two of them.
Ned ducked his head, embarrassed, but when others announced that the Tully sisters were pregnant, Ned received several hearty pats on his back, including a thumping one from Oswell Whent himself.
When their men produced the crates of wine, everyone heartily indulged, as Ned was handed back Jon, rocking the infant.
Tomorrow they would begin their journey back to King's Landing, while Kevan went to Casterly Rock.
Ned knew that it was imperative that the King name Jon a Stark, and he was anxious to ensure that this young child had a promising future.
There were questions from Whent and Dayne about the Rebellion. They'd spent the entire conflict here, guarding Lyanna after she had eloped with Rhaegar, and they made this place their home, so both men knew precious little about the actual war and what took place.
Ned found his throat drying as he spoke of the critical battles, sharing what he knew, for of the three, he was the one who knew the most.
Kevan was the one who told the men, again, of Jaime's escape from King's Landing.
"And we came thundering around a corner on the Gold Road to find Elia against a tree, guarding Rhaenys, Jaime having cut down several of the King's men. We made quick work of them, and when Tygett went to Elia, little Rhaenys latched onto him and wouldn't let go!" Kevan, now deep into his cups, found it hilarious.
"I am proud of Ser Jaime," Arthur said gruffly. It was clear that Arthur had an affinity for Ser Jaime and Ned knew that Tywin's son would be happy that no one other than Lyanna had died here.
"Aye, my nephew has become the man his father always knew he could be."
"And is it true that Hoster managed to marry Sansa to your brother? None of us thought he'd take another wife after the death of Lady Joanna," Whent exclaimed.
Oberyn, Kevan and Ned exchanged a knowing glance. Even the men behind them began to snicker.
"Aye, it's true, my brother has remarried, but Lady Sansa is nothing like my first goodsister. That woman is the only one who can keep my brother in check," Kevan confirmed.
Arthur's lips quirked.
"I would like to see that," he said.
"You will. King Tywin had ordered all three of you back to King's Landing. Barristan and Jaime await your arrival, and they will be most happy to see you," Oberyn assured Arthur and Oswell.
Both men seemed to take some comfort that their order hadn't been entirely decimated. Indeed, with only Lewyn losing his life at the Trident, they remained largely intact.
Of course, this was the moment that Hightower stormed towards them all.
"Had we been at the Trident, none of you would be sitting here! You'd have been declared traitors and your heads on spikes around the Red Keep for all to see."
"Gerold, you're blinded by your loyalty for a rotten house. We know what Aerys had planned for the very people he was charged with keeping safe! He had a fiduciary duty to them, one he was prepared to destroy. And the madder he got, the more your dug your heels in. We know what he did to Rhaella; we know you ordered good men to protect a man that raped his wife!" Kevan roared, upset now.
It wasn't something that Ned had witnessed – an angry Kevan Lannister. It was a sight to behold.
Standing, Kevan drilled a finger into Hightower's chest.
"Her attendants reported that Rhaella would be covered in bites, burns and welts after Aerys visited her – often after he'd burned a man alive. Tell me, what kind of men protect someone like that? That is not honour! That is hiding behind your so-called vows," Kevan spat.
"Our job was not to protect the Queen, lion. It pained us; make no mistake," Arthur said quietly, clearly uncomfortable with being held to account.
Oberyn scoffed at his friend.
"Arthur, my entire life, I grew up listening to you recite those damn vows of knighthood. I am not an Andal man, but you said them so often that even I know them be heart. In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women."
The three men with the white cloaks all looked ashamed.
"I knew Queen Rhaella, and hers was not a happy marriage. Many marriages of noble blood are not. But no woman should have endured what she did. I am proud of Jaime for making the choice he did. For rescuing Princess Elia. I am loathed to think what might have happened to her had he left them there," Kevan stated loudly and no on argued.
No one had anything more to say. They all knew what likely would have happened had Jaime not escaped King's Landing with Elia and her daughter.
That evening, Ned was showing to new chambers, where more midwives and wet nurses awaited. He watched, hawk-like, while they tended to the baby. This was his nephew and a Stark – a child of the North that he'd given his promise to keep safe.
He was pleased that they had shed no more blood, for they had spilled enough from Rhaegar and Lyanna's actions. And he was hopeful that Oswell and Arthur might come around.
But Ned vowed he'd keep a close eye on Gerold Hightower. The man was far too enamoured with House Targaryen, and his inability to see that House Targaryen had been rotten to the core was worrisome indeed.
For now, though, Ned cradled newborn Jon in his arms, grateful that Tywin and Sansa had warned him of what he'd find at the Tower of Joy. He was grief-stricken over the death of his sister, and yet, oddly hopeful for the future of House Stark of which this tiny child was part of.
