14 Damn if you do...

The dull grey light continued to dim as they climbed the hill, watching the shutters and doors close and lock with their pass. Briefly, Cregan could make out fearful faces watching them. It was unlikely any of them had ever seen a Skagosi in their life. Never mind the terrifying angry unicorn mounts they rode on. Hephaestion made to charge at a pair of children that were walking down the street, and only a sharp pull on his reins and a fierce kick with his boot stopped the beast from attacking them. They sped on down the hill, eager to escape the mounted wildling savages.

It mattered not, once Hephaestion was under control he carried on, towards the castle of the Manderly's.

They were not the only ones coming, but they would be some of the latest. The twelve longboats had landed again in Karstark lands, this time they were greeted a little better, though Lord Karstark himself had already gathered his men and started to head south. The mainland wasn't hit by as harsh blizzards and snowfalls as Skagos, especially at the fifty four Skagosi continued South, through Bolton, Hornwood, Flint and Locke lands. They never bothered staying at these mostly abandoned castles, since having fifty skagosi savages appear at your doorstep whilst your lord and most of the fighting men were gone was usually never a good sign.

The Longboats had taken quite a beating in the short trip to Karhold's shores, and they would remain there, likely going to be stolen by the smallfolk. It would them little good, they were littered with holes and the wood was rotting. The effect of rushed craftsmanship.

The stars watched his approach, beginning to dimly appear between the dark clouds that dotted the sky.

Eventually they convoy reached the gates of New Castle. The inner yard was bustling with activity. A middle aged man with an increasing large gut noticed Cregan and walked towards him.

"Lord Magnar." He said. Cregan jumped off his unicorn.

"Wyman Manderly. It is good to see you." Said Cregan with a nod.

"Lord Manderly now I'm afraid." Said Wyman, bowing his head briefly.

"My Condolences." Said Cregan. He spared a brief look around. "I expected to find more men outside of the city... Where is everyone?"

Wyman ran a hand through his greying hair.

"Right. Well, perhaps I should start with the good news. The war is over." Said Lord Manderly.

Cregan coughed.

"I'm sorry?" Asked Cregan incredulously.

"Two nights ago we received a letter from Kings Landing. King Aerys died in his sleep a week ago." Said Wyman. "Now, King Rhaegar, 1st of his name, has said that the North and Stormlands are to return to their homes and prepare for this Rebirth of winter."

"That's... Good right?" Asked Cregan.

"Well... He has however 'asked' that Lord Brandon Stark, Lord Robert Baratheon and Lord Cregan Magnar report to Kingslanding to stand trial for the murder of Arthur Dayne, for the attempted murder and regicide of his Father King Aerys." Wyman Manderly explained.

Cregan's hand instinctively fell on the hilt of Leviathan, and a few Manderly guardsmen stepped forward, pointing silver tridents at him. The Skagosi Unicorn riders gripped their dragonglass or pig iron spears, their mounts snarling and salivating at the possible feast.

"Lord Magnar. I am not here to take you into custody." Said Wyman. Cregan looked to the lord of White Harbour, and sighed, taking his hand off his meteoric iron sword. The men behind him eventually did the same, and the Manderly guards stepped down.

"However, Lord Rickard Stark is bringing Brandon with him here. He has decided that for the good of the realm his son will stand trial. He also asked me to remind you of the possible consequences of refusing. Winter will end eventually, and come spring your life would be forfeit." Wyman explained.

"And Lord Baratheon?" Asked Cregan with an raised eyebrow.

"Robert is purportedly making his way to Kingslanding, though with a retinue of Stormlords and Stormknights. I'm sure Rickard Stark will be doing the same." Said Wyman.

"So, we change one battleground for another?" Asked Cregan with a sigh.

How on Earth did Aerys die?

"So... With this in mind, I invite you, Lord Cregan Magnar, to stay in my fair castle until Lord Stark arrives, where upon you will be invited to travel to the capital." Said Wyman. Cregan could make out the barest hint of a smile on the man's face.

"How noble of you to invite me." Said Cregan with a smile and a nod. "May I bring any of my retinue?"

"Only your... Horse." Said Wyman, sparing a fearful glance to Hephaestion standing beside the High Lord of Skagos.

Cregan looked down and grimaced, then brought his head up and smiled.

"I would like to some words. May my men stay within White Castle for the night?" Asked Cregan.

"Of course. In two days time there will be a ship leaving to go to Eastwatch by the sea, I'm sure they can be paid to stop at Skagos." Said Wyman.

"One moment then." Said Cregan pleasantly. He turned away from the lord of White harbour and Grabbed Theon Crowl from his horse, dragging him off the mount. The unicorn made to bite him, but Cregan slapped it's head away with his over hand.

"Lord Crowl." Growled Cregan.

Theon couldn't look him directly in the eye, staring at a dragonglass clasp that was attached to his snowbear cloak.

"Look at me when I talk to you." Cregan snarled, his grey eyes boring into Theon's skull. The Skagosi lord looked into them.

"If you try anything whilst I am gone, if you hear of my death and attempt to usurp my nephew or sister, you will not live to see the wall. I will drown you in the shivering sea slowly. I will let the ice gnaw at your face and skin until it is black and dead. I will let you drink only salt, eat only ice. You will watch when I gut your brother and let his entrails feed my unicorn. I will boil his bones and eat the flesh upon them, and when you die, I will throw you into the sea like the waste of flesh you are." Cregan threatened. "If I do die, and you try anyway, rest assured my sister is twice the man you are. She is even more partial to the flesh of Crowl's. Winter is harsh Theon. I would like to see my sister eat well."

Theon gulped.

"Do you understand me?" Asked Cregan. He was not in the mood for appeasing this young lord any longer. Varymyr had told him of his attempted treachery, of trying to bring him onto his side. The time to bring him onto his side had past, and now only violence would maintain this. Soon enough Theon would die, but he couldn't yet. Ten of the unicorn riders were his men after all, and he didn't want to start a battle in Lord Manderly's courtyard.

"Yes." Whispered Theon. Cregan smacked the young lord.

"Do you understand me?" Asked Cregan again, his voice lower this time. Theon could see his hand grasping the dragonglass knife he kept on his belt.

"Yes my lord." Whimpered Theon.

Cregan let go of the Skagosi, wiping down his clothes.

"Good to hear Lord Crowl. Come. We shall rest in New Castle." Said Cregan to his men.

_______________________________________________

It was some of the better salt and bread Cregan had tasted. Skagos usually kept harsh black loafs in winter specifically for guest right, but the bread itself was barely edible, filled with ash and sawdust to pad it out. White Harbour bread was of a much higher quality, as was it's meat. Lord Wyman had explained the difficulty of hosting most of the Eastern lords of the North in his hall. How the Greatjon ate and drank enough for three men, how Roose hardly ate at all and how Harlys Hornwood seemed to eat exclusively meat and was constantly complaining complaints about some holdfast his grandfather held.

If Wyman was eventually going to complain to Rickard Stark about Cregan, it was likely that he refused all but the absolute weakest alcohol, and had actually caught and melted snow to get fresh water. Also, a polite but firm refusal of a pie his cook had made, instead preferring to eat the venison and grilled leaks that his other cook had prepared.

"I'm curious Lord Magnar." Said Wyman. As the two highest lords in the castle at the moment the two were sat next to each other on the dais, with Wyman's wife on his other side. "Do you know how to prepare a human carcass?"

Cregan spat out his drink.

"Excuse me?" He asked, more honestly confused by the question than insulted.

"I can read lips Lord Magnar. Boiling your lord's bones and eating the flesh upon them? A Skagosi delicacy I'm sure." Said Wyman.

Wyman Manderly is one of the smartest and most conniving lords in the North, second only to Roose Bolton. Do not underestimate him.

"In truth, I do not think you boil human flesh. I hear it is much like Pork in taste and texture. So I suppose you roast it." Said Cregan with a shrug. He would not back down from the merman.

"You have not partaken?" Asked Wyman.

"No. I'd rather die." Said Cregan honestly. "But a threat was required."

"Of course." Said Wyman, waving his hand around, as if discussions about eating human flesh was normal for him. Inwardly Cregan was terrified. He doubted the Lord of White Harbour liked him, and now he'd made it clear that Theon Crowl was a rebellious lord.

Cregan took a long slow bite of the venison. It didn't taste of pork, so Cregan didn't fear taking more bites.

"So... Harrenhal..." Wyman said cautiously. Cregan sighed. And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood.

"Yeah. That was a bit of a disaster wasn't it." said Cregan. He almost reached for a wine goblet a servant was carrying on a tray nearby but stopped himself just in time. Drinking never took away the pain.

"I hear that's what the smallfolk call it. After... Lyanna's unfortunate death, and the ensuring chaos, I'm sure it will be the most talked about tourney since the Ashford Tourney." Wyman gestured with one of his arms, and for a moment Cregan's eyes followed it, briefly spying a servant talking to another Manderly.

"There are more rumours abound about that Tourney. They say that someone was very close to Lyanna before she made her faithful decision to joust." Wyman said as he tore into Lamprey pie.

The high lord of Skagos' eye twitched slightly.

"I don't know my lord. I was discussing a marriage alliance with Triston Sunderland." Said Cregan casually. He saw Wyman growl slightly. It was well known to the lords of White Harbour that the Three Sisters were the guards of the Whiteknife and White Harbour. Every ship that came and went from White Harbour was under their watch, and they could decide if they came in or out of the city.

"My congratulations Lord Magnar. Though I believe Lord Sunderland only has sons. I had no idea the Skagosi were so... Metropolitan." Said Wyman as he took a sip of wine.

"Indeed? My young sister and I aren't very metropolitan. We are only Skagosi after all." Said Cregan.

"Ah. Well, I'm sure she will love to marry a sisterman. Webbed fingers are only rumours after all... Like Skagosi cannibalism." Wyman looked over his glass to stare at Cregan. He refused to blink.

"Thank you for your kind words Lord Manderly." Said Cregan with a slight nod.

"Anytime Lord Magnar." Said Wyman with a wry smile.

______________________________________

His room looked across White Harbour, at the great bay and the white buildings that made up the greatest city in the North, the envy of every Northern Lord. The richest Domain in the north, from taxes and tariffs. It could bring the most cavalry to any fight. It was one hundred Skagos' in manpower alone.

And yet it still had no war fleet. Not even facing his ancestor Artor Magnar, who reaved and feaster upon the eastern coast of the north for two years during the Skagosi Rebellion, had made the Stark's consent to making a fleet. Even under what many would call the best Stark lord since King Torrhen, his namesake Cregan Stark, the North still failed to build a navy.

Cregan took a swig of wine, now safe within his room. It might take time to wean off the drink. It was a failing of his last time, and it was almost certainly a failing of the older soul within him, of the man that was not Cregan.

Snowdrops fell upon the city, covering the white stones in a further carpet of pure white.

"Lord Magnar?" Asked a voice from behind the bedroom door. Cregan took another quick swig to help him sleep, disgusted with himself for doing so.

"Yes?" Asked the Lord of Skagos.

"A Letter arrived for you through the snow." Said a young female servant, holding out a small piece of parchment.

"Thank you." Said Cregan with a nod, holding out his hand.

The servant handed him the letter and went to walk away quite quickly. Skagosi had a reputation after all.

The Skagosi closed the door behind him with one hand, opening the letter with the other.

Lord Magnar

By now you have likely arrived in White Harbour. Revelations form the capital has ended the war. King Aerys is dead. Our chance to do what our alliance was built for has past for now.

But I received a letter from the new King. He is accusing Brandon, Robert Baratheon and You of the murder of Ser Arthur Dayne and the attempted regicide of King Aerys.

In the interest of peace you will go to King's landing and defend yourself, my son and Lord Robert. If you attempt to run I cannot begin to tell you just how much fire will be brought upon Skagos.

Lord Wyman has received a similar letter. Buy some plate armour and a real sword before you leave to the Capital. Given what Brandon has told me of the Harrenhal tourney you will need them.

Burn this letter.

Lord Rickard Stark of the North.

Cregan looked up from the letter, looking at the snowfall and the city outside his window slit. And laughed. And Laughed. He grinned painfully. It was no new information to him, he knew that he was to stand trial already. But even his liege lord, who's son was one of those accused, knew that they were guilty of the crime. Worst, Robert and Brandon might have been able to win a trial by combat, but Rhaegar had inherited most of the best Kingsguard in history. Lewyn Martell, Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister, Jonothor Darry and Gerold Hightower. Who knows who Rhaegar might add to the Kingsguard. If he asked, Cregan was sure that Jon Connington would join the order. Perhaps another Darry too.

All of them were expert Swordsmen, with Barristan Selmy being a once in a generation swordsmen who ended a war with a single duel.

If, or rather when Cregan would have to fight to prove his innocence, he would face any one of these men and lose absolutely.

Not even a year old and his death was all but certain.

Cregan picked up his near empty goblet, the silver cup shaking in his hand. His leg twitched involuntarily.

He would not sleep tonight. He dropped the goblet of wine on the end table next to his bed and opened the door to his room, leaving his bedroom.

He could run. No doubt they'd be a ship leaving for the free cities in a few days, he could lie low till then. Head to Bravos.

And do what? He had no money, no real skills. His power was inherited, he had little in the sense of inbuilt skills. He wasn't especially clever, or fast or strong. He was no more than the Lord of Skagos.

Cregan walked through the stone halls, climbing simply upwards. Eventually he found his way to the castle's roof. The Merman emblazoned guards looked to the strange man, but paid him no mind as he leaned against the crenellations that lined the roof of the castle. Snowdrops fell into his brown hair, white interweaving with the brown. The waters within the harbour were fairly calm compared to the near stormwaters of Skagos. They only lightly bite against the wooden docks. Ships rocked in the bay, but their anchors kept them from floating into the waters of the sea, or tipping over.

Cregan leaned further on the crenellations.

The fall from here would most certainly kill him.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind as he looked to his left. It was late, but not late enough for the sun to rise beyond that distant horizon. Dawn would come, but it was a fair bit away. He'd deal with the consequences of his actions, for good or ill.

Cregan clicked his back and walked away from the building's edge, watched by the guards and the stars.

__________________________________________________

"I can't believe I'm saying this to a Skagosi, but it's good to see you Magnar." Said Brandon, carrying a bag of clothes, some food and a set of plate armour aboard "The Southerys Queen".

"We survived one trial by combat together. What's one more?" Asked Cregan with fake cheer in his voice, carrying his own bag. A Shadowcat fur coat, white bear cloak, Leviathan and various furs were in his bag, as well as a set of plate armour Wyman Manderly has kindly paid for courtesy of Lord Stark. It was a small consolation that Rickard didn't entirely want Cregan dead. Still, it was only a small mercy.

Hephaestion followed behind Cregan, led by a stable hand who was being quite generously paid. It's mouth covered by a metal mask after it had savaged a cut purse in the streets of White harbour the day before. Brandon's own unicorn was being led by a stable boy. The two mounts would be spending the entire journey in the hold. However had to feed and clean them was likely to lose an arm.

The two men turned around, looking at those that came to see them off. Rickard Stark was staying in the North, as was Eddard. Liekly Eddard was about to be properly groomed to be Rickard's heir in the highly likely case Brandon never came back. He didn't last time after all. It was perhaps a small joy that Rickard would not share such a fate.

No one was here to see Cregan off. Cregan blinked for a few seconds too long, and saw a girl with brilliant long brown hair, with gorgeous eyes of steel. But she disappeared when he opened them. The youngest Stark was gone too. A thousand miles away, freezing at the wall during this new rebirth of winter.

Brandon solemnly waved goodbye to his family, perhaps for the last time, as the gangplank was lifted beside them.

"Remember their faces Brandon. I wish I remembered mine." Said Cregan quietly, honestly. He saw only the faintest outline of a brother, or maybe two. It was gone now. A memory of a memory.

Soon enough the Anchor was raised, and even as snow continued to fall upon the decks of the ship she made her way out of the harbour.

As important guests Cregan and Brandon were allowed a private room. Sadly one they would have to share. They threw their bags on the floor, looking at the bunk bed within the room.

"I am the son of the Lord of the North. I will be your liege some day." Brandon pointed out.

"I actually am a Lord right now." Cregan replied.

"I have a valyrian steel sword." Said Brandon. The handle of Dawn was sticking out of his bag. If Elia Martell's handmaiden was at the capital she was not going to enjoy the sight of her brother's killer wielding his sword.

"I have a sword that won't break against it." Cregan pointed out. "That saved your life."

"You're Skagosi. You're used to hardship." Brandon said.

"You need to toughen up. It'll be good for you." Cregan said, a thin wry smile growing on his face.

"This is going nowhere, how are we to sort this out?" Asked Brandon.

"Right. Ever play odds and evens?" Asked the Lord of Skagos.

"No?" Asked Brandon.

"Right. We count down from three to one, and after one we show our hand, one of us is odds and one of us is evens. We count the combined number of fingers shown, if it adds up to an odd number then the person declared odds wins." Cregan explained.

Brandon nodded.

"Sounds simple enough." Said Brandon. "Shall we go the first to win three rounds?"

"Best of three." Said Cregan.

"All right. I'll be odds." Said Brandon, rolling up the sleeve of his fur shirt.

"Evens." Said Cregan simply, rolling his neck before holding out a clenched fist, as Brandon did the same.

The two competitors looked each other in the eyes, a solemn look of determination in both of them.

"Three. Two. One." Cregan counted down cautiously. He thrust his hand forward, showing three fingers. Brandon showed one. Cregan smiled, rolling his shoulders as Brandon took a few deep breaths, concentrating on this crucial endeavour.

"Three. Two. One." Cregan counted again. This time, he showed two fingers. Brandon showed three. The Lord of Skagos swore under his breath as Brandon Stark jumped in the air, before the two returned to their battle of wits and fate.

"Three. Two. One."

______________________________________

Cregan stared angrily at the bed above him. Sure, it was just as filled with straw and as strange as his own, but it was the top bunk. It should've been his. But Brandon had one it by right of conquest.

"Don't get too annoyed Cregan. You can have top bunk on the way back." Said Brandon with a smile, as he folded his hands behind his head.

"Well there we go. One upside if you lose your trial by combat. You don't have to have the bottom bunk." Said Cregan faux angrily, smiling despite himself.

"Don't touch yourself by the way. I was glad Eddard got sent to the vale when he was a teenager, I don't want to go through that with you." Said Brandon.

"Charming." Cregan gritted through his teeth.

"Actually, that's a point. Have you bloodied your sword?" Asked Brandon.

"I helped you kill Arthur Dayne didn't I? Hell, other then that I don't think I've directly killed someone." Said Cregan.

"Not that sword you idiot." Said Brandon.

"I am not talking about my love life with my future Liege Lord." Said Cregan.

"I'll take that as a no. I'm surprised. You didn't ravage any women at the Harrenhal tourney?" Asked Brandon.

"No." Said Cregan.

"You Skagosi are all talk." Said Brandon cheerfully. "I'm sure you're just saving yourself for your knight in shining armour." Brandon japed.

"Why am I friends with you." Cregan mumbled under his breath.

"Friends Magnar? You are my future subject." Said Brandon not entirely seriously.

"I'm about to die with you, I think we've gotten to that point." Said Cregan.

Brandon didn't reply, instead deciding to swing his legs over the side of his bed, jumping off and landing on the floor. The boat shook in the waves and Brandon did too, not entirely used to the sea. But still, despite his inelegance, he fixed Cregan with a curious stare.

"I suppose we have. But... In actuality I know very little about you Cregan. I think it's time we played a game." Said Brandon. He reached into his cloth bag and drew a dark glass bottle. Cregan groaned and slapped his forehead.

"I'm trying to cut down." Said Cregan.

"Oh this isn't for you. I'm going to need it to listen to your boring life story. And to remember my good bits." Said Brandon with a wolfish smile. He twisted off the cork off the wine bottle and took a hearty swig.

"Come on Cregan." He said, not even fazed by the alcohol.

"Fine. Me first or you?" Asked the High lord Of Skagos, now stooping to college antics.

"You." Said Brandon resolutely.

"Let's see. I was born fifteen years ago, Can't really remember the date." Said Cregan.

"You don't know your own name day?" Asked Brandon inquisitively. Cregan shook his head.

"I was born during the last winter, and no one really pays attention to the date. We just... Sort of celebrated it sometime during the seventh month." Said Cregan "And celebration usually just meant getting a larger meal than usual."

"Shit." Said Brandon, rubbing the back of his head. "I... My name day is the seventh day of the fourth moon. Last year I got a whole feast and everything."

"Get anything good?" Asked Cregan.

"Yeah. Barbrey Dustin." Brandon smiled wolfishly.

"Forget I asked." Said Cregan.

"You're just shy. Give it a year, you''ll understand." Said Brandon.

Once I was twenty two. Once I was in my late thirties.

"All right. First kill?" Asked Cregan.

Brandon took another swig of wine.

"A dear. Buck, about seven years ago. Bow and Arrow. You?" Asked Brandon.

"Mad unicorn when I was twelve. It had been feasting upon the flesh of it's own kind and suffered from Kuru... From the soul sickness common in cannibals." Cregan replied.

"First time you got drunk?" Asked Brandon.

"Three and Ten. Got a nasty wound during training and after they poured the wine on the wound I drank the rest." Said Cregan.

"Four and Ten." Brandon replied. "I was in the Rills. First real feast out of sight of my father."

"First weapon?" Asked Cregan.

"Shortsword my father gifted me when I was seven." Said Brandon.

"Dragonglass dagger when I was four." Said Cregan. "The blasted things snap half the time you use them, but this one has lasted me since then." Cregan patted his bag. He didn't want to wear the knife whilst he slept.

"Have I ever told you about the Rills?" Asked Brandon. Brandon launched into a tale of horse riding through the hills and streams of the Rills, of hunting on horseback and jousting.

_________________________________________________________________

Blackwater bay was fairly aptly named. The closer to the city they got the more foul the water got. Black and brown liquid barely recognisable as water. Brandon swore the ship was only slowing down because it had to sludge and push through the thick sludge. That might've been a bit of an exaggeration. The smell was not. 500,000 people living so close to each other with no indoor plumbing did not give off a pleasant smell. But all people made this oh so astute observation. There was more to the city than the lingering smell of death.

There was the fact that almost fifty war ships were anchored in the bay. There was also smoke coming from the tower of the hand, visible even from miles at sea.

Most curious of all was a single vessel. A large galley was docked at the mouth of the Blackwater, though unlike any of the other vessels at sea it's sail wasn't the three headed dragon of the royal fleet. Instead it's single sail was emblazoned with a gold Kraken on black. The hull was painted blood red, visible from miles away because of it.

When Cregan starred at this out of place vessel all noise seemed to fade from the world. The screech of gulls, the crashing of the waves as the Southerys Queen sailed through them, the shouting of the crew behind him. Only silence remained.

Cregan felt a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, sound once again returning to the world.

"Time for our grand entrance. Let's get the unicorns deckside." Brandon told him. Cregan nodded and followed after him, making his way towards the lower deck. He glanced through the holes in the hold, looking as the unicorns looked up and followed them with their eyes, saliva dripping from their maws.

__________________________________________________________________

Two unicorns and their riders descended from the gangplank of the Southerys Queen. The stark white beasts standing out amidst the grey sky above and the brown stones. Eyes followed these two riders. Wearing full plate bar helmets, one with a great greatsword tied to his mount that seemed to glow even in this dull light, the other with a great snow bear cloak bellowing behind him.

They were clearly northerners, their cold grey eyes and long brown hair gave it away, one was a man fully grown, the other closing in on adulthood. They slowly rode through the cobblestone streets of the city, climbing the hill up from the dock. People stopped what they were doing to watch these two. Knights weren't that unusual in the capital after all, but actual unicorns were beyond strange. Grimly the younger one had one hand on the grip of a steel hand and a half sword on his waist, another tied to his mount.

They climbed the hook towards the red keep, Gold cloaks sparring them a glance. A few of the smarter ones followed them spears in hand. When they reached the gates of the Red keep the two men were stopped by a small group of gold cloaks.

"State your business." Said the bravest of them, whilst the rest kept their distance from the men and their strange mounts.

"I am Lord Brandon Stark. This is Lord Cregan Magnar." The heir to the north said, gesturing to his riding partner.

"Right milords." Said the lead guard. "This way. You'll want to place your... Unicorns in the stable."

"No we won't." Said Brandon Stark in a voice that brokered no argument. The Lead gold cleared his throat and said nothing, simply leading the two riders towards the great hall of the red keep. The various servants and lesser nobles and courtiers dodged and got out of the way of the two men, but if the two men noticed them they spared them no thought, simply trotting slowly through the yard.

The Younger of the two men spared a glance to a servant running ahead, likely to warn the King of their arrival, as if their journey hadn't been known.

They passed between the great bronze gates at the end of the yard and entered a long corridor. Along it's walls were sconces lighting up tapestries. They showed images of hunts, of great mystical battles between man and god, between fire and ice. Many people were rushing through the doors at the end of the long corridors.

Cregan knew that King Rhaegar knew they were coming. Their journey had required them to dock at Gulltown, a city full of Targaryan loyalists, and Lord Rickard Stark had sent a letter ahead. No doubt these runners were those late to attending to the ceremony about to happen in the great hall of the Red keep.

"Leave us." Said Brandon Stark to the Goldcloak that had lead them here. The Guard nodded and took a step back.

Cregan Magnar and Brandon Stark shared a pensive look, took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. Two Goldcloaks heaved the door open and the two riders trotted through the heavy doors.

There were hundreds of people in the hall. A sea of faces Cregan couldn't even begin to count.

"Presenting themselves to face the charge of murder and attempted Regicide." Someone shouted from the great dais. "Lord Brandon Stark and Lord Cregan Magnar."

Cregan finally looked towards the iron throne. Sat upon that high rusting chair of swords was one of the most handsome men Cregan had ever saw. Or at least, he was handsome. He had brilliant white hair that glowed even in the dim winter sun. His eyes shone a vibrant violet. But beneath those eyes were dark bags. His Silver crown sat slightly lopsided upon his head, and the King slouched slightly in his chair, one hand resting on his legs, the other on the left arm of that sharp throne.

On both sides of that monstrous chair was King Rhaegar's small council. A fat man with smooth skin, a old man with his back ramrod straight. A lean warrior in steel plate wearing a silk white cloak. A man hunching over slightly with chains around his neck. Another Lord wearing black and grey chequered on his jerkin. And smiling malevolently was a young man with...

Cregan's eyes widened in immediate recognition of this man.

With a black eyepatch, shoulder length black hair and a grin that spoke only of cruelty was Euron Greyjoy.

Cregan tried to push his fears from his mind, focusing solely on the King on the Iron throne.

Rhaegar's face squeezed and reddened for a second, before he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"You stand before me accused of the crime of Murder and the attempted murder of my beloved father Aerys Targaryan, second of his name." Rhaegar spoke with a voice that felt like silk squeezing his throat. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." Said Brandon.

"Not guilty." Cregan repeated, sealing his fate.

Appendices:

King Rhaegar Targaryan the first's first small council: Having inherited the Small council from his father, Rhaegar didn't make any immediate changes upon ascending to the Iron Throne. The only questionable decision was the replacement of Lucerys Velyaron, who had been a direct vassal of Rhaegar's when he was just the Lord of Dragonstone. His replacement was controversial, to say the least.

*

Hand of the King: Owen Merryweather

Grand Maester: Pycelle

Master of Coin: Qarlton Chelsted

Master of Whispers: Varys

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Gerold Hightower

Master of ships: Euron Greyjoy