Thirty

Rhaegar awoke from his slumber, he had been fading in and out of sleep all night, a million thoughts racing through his mind. As of late, his choice of words had continually left those around him angry, even the squires that helped him dress in the morning noticed, asking him why he had been so silent lately. He merely smiled grimly at them and shrugged, blaming the heat and stress of court. In truth, Aerys had opted out of inviting his son to high council meetings, even though he was the Prince of Dragonstone and had the right position to be there, Rhaegar chose against it.

I'll fix it all myself once I become King. He'd think to himself, though knew deep down he felt snubbed and rejected by his father. What I would give to have Twyin Lannister back here, and myself back in Dragonstone. Looking outside of the large glass window he sighed, watching the oblivious courteous talking their morning walks and lounging around the main gardens.

Rhaegar had spent most nights since arguing with Arianne in his children's nursery, opting to sleep on the rocking chair that a wet nurse would sleep in. Instead, he insisted that he would sleep there, he had Kingsguard around him anyways, there wasn't anything he couldn't do that a wet nurse couldn't. That was until Aegon began to scream in the middle of the night and Elia had to call for a nurse. He had forgotten their rooms were adjoining. They shared one look and continued on their routine, Elia returning to her room and Rhaegar sitting back down on his chair.

Tapping his foot impatiently he thought through his itinerary for the day. He found that as days went by he grew more and more impatient. Rhaegar had rarely anytime alone, usually accompanied by courtiers, his mother, wife or Kingsguard. Rarely anytime with his bride to be, other than their occasional meals which had ceased in the previous days. Now that he was alone, he couldn't help think about his predicament. Arianne was right, they really only needed one child to finish the equation. But something within him was telling him that their children would be ... better suited for the roles he had for them. In all honesty, he did not care for the Iron Throne, using that as an excuse to get his point across. He knew something bigger than a crown and seat was coming for them. How could he tell that to Arianne? Better yet anybody? Rhaegar sighed and walked to the balcony, wanting to watch the city he now called home hustle and bustle.

Shouts from the market, children laughing, chatter and horses. He didn't recognize any of them, but they recognized him, what an odd feeling that was. Though, walking through the city walls, two riders. One, small in size, wore a large cape that seemed to have been through it all, the other soldier, wearing the Tully colours and with a large fish embroidered on his cape. Why would the Tully's be here? Rhaegar thought to himself.

"Your grace, the King has called a small council meeting and has called for you," Ser Barristan panted. He must've been searching for him for a while. Rhaegar spread his hands on the stone railings.

"No," he said, not bothering to turn around. "I have my own small council meeting to get to."

Barristan stood still for a moment, unsure of how to reply. "The King has called, your grace."

"And I the Prince of Dragonstone say the King can wait, I'm busy," Rhaegar snapped back, still not turning.

Barristan silently groaned behind him. "Varys has been telling him things about you sire. You're bringing in men from places. Having secret meetings. Inviting Lords against him."

"Varys is a spineless, dickless spy who has been out for me since I married Elia. He'll be the first to go-," Rhaegar stopped himself and turned to Barristan as if to say not a word.

"Varys is loyal to your father and the Targaryen's, his intentions are questionable but he loves your family-,"

"I'm sure he does. I just want to be alone Barristan, tell Arthur to bring Lord Tyrell and Lord Redwyne to the guest house lounge. And a scribe, a trustable scribe. You can go now." Before Barristan could dismiss himself, Rhaegar closed the doors separating the room from the balcony. He needed to get married. He needed Elia gone. He needed Brandon damned Stark to cease his letter bombardment. He needed his father gone. He needed three dragons. He wanted to fling himself from the railings and make it all go away, truthfully.

...

Barristan held his sword as he made his way back to the small council, unsure really of how to tell the King that his son was unable to attend the meeting, or rather unwilling to. As instructed, he whispered Rhaegar's wants to Arthur on the way out of his room and quickly made a dash for it.

"What do you mean unable?" the King scowled, standing from his seat and slamming his hand on the wooden table, causing those around the table to flinch back.

Stannis opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Varys, who gave him a pointed look. "Maybe he feels rejected your grace. You did disallow him from other meetings. Perhaps he wants a permanent place?"

"If he was man enough, he'd be here every meeting. But he doesn't care. Doesn't care enough."

"Or maybe..." Varys began, Barristan rolled his eyes, put his helm on and returned to his usual spot, holding tightly onto his sword and doing his best to block out all conversation between those who ran the seven kingdoms. Varys sensed Barristan's hostility and chose to ignore it. "He's trying something else?"

Aerys looked at Varys, wondering if his most trusted companion was right. He had been right about the Whent's and chaos had reeked to his family while at Harrenhal. Well...mostly chaos. "My own son would never conspire against his father," Aerys said.

"He was born while your family burnt at Summerhall. He was sent here to ruin the Targaryen's," Varys whispered, unsure if the lords would appreciate his tactics.

"Now hold on," Stannis began. "Just because he doesn't want to come to a council meeting, which by the way is to discuss the same things from the four previous meetings. He wouldn't be missing out on much."

Aerys, stunned and angry that the young Baratheon had chosen to interrupt a conversation glowered at him. "And what exactly would that be, boy?"

Stannis bit his tongue, his father wasn't lying when he said that Aerys was insufferable most of the time. "What are we to do about the Frey's? They've taken Harrenhal and there's no sign of the Whent sons. No sign of the daughter or mother." He quickly looked down at his notes before anyone could cut in. "What are we going to do about the smuggling of goods out of Kingslanding and into Kingslanding? I asked Lord Velaryon-," Stannis looked at Master of Ships, who had been staring at the table "-People aren't paying their taxes because they're too high for the poor and low for the rich. Noble lord's barely paid a penny. Where does the tax that these people pay go to? In Storm's End, it was fuelled towards villages and farmers who needed equipment, rather than creating bigger Keeps, higher walls, guest houses-" he said, referring to Rhaegar's own, "and endless gardens. That could go to a sewage system that doesn't bathe the city in shit." He paused for a breathe. "Ser Gerold Hightower also tells me the city is dangerous, the City Watch is too busy in Silk Street to keep a watchful eye on the city."

Aerys stared at the boy, and then back to Varys and then back at the boy. "Do you think you can run this city, these Kingdom's, better than I can?" He seethed.

Stannis looked up at the King, he felt his heart stop. "Of course not your grace, these are merely ideas."

Aerys slid a ghastly finger to the notes that Stannis had placed on the table, took a look at them and then moved his chair back. "Ideas." Aerys felt the blood under his skin boil. One more word from the boy and he would have to show him a lesson in exactly what the Hand was good for. "Your Maester's taught you well, your hand is impeccable." He said.

Stannis looked at him, eyes wide, and then back at Varys begging almost. "Shall we start court?" Varys asked, nervously looking at the King.

Aerys ignored him as he muttered to himself. Stannis knew he had spoken out of turn but was just trying to do as he knew his father had done. "Oswell," the King said, turning to the Kingsguard behind him.

Oswell Whent stepped forward, of all days, he had opted to wear the helm of his house, a large bat on a silver base. "Your grace," his voice came, muffled from the helm.

"Do you think Stannis Baratheon speaks the truth? The Frey's are to be dealt with?" He asked, testing the guard.

Oswell, though it was not visible, couldn't help but dart his eyes at the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard who was seated at the table. "My loyalty lies with the crown. I do not have an opinion on outside matters that do not affect us."

Aerys laughed and turned back to Stannis. "So unless you have something to do with the Frey's and the missing Whent's, Stannis, will that be all."

"I never said I had anything to do with-"

He was cut off though, by the King once again calling for Oswell and the cupbearer that stood beside him and sat down. "Oswell, strike her." He said boldly. Without hesitation, the Kingsguard had taken his sword from its belt and hit the girl who held the golden jug full of expensive wine. Though, smartly, he had chosen to use the butt of his sword on her cheek, something that would recover quickly. Aerys looked at the guard and tutted. The girl, who had not made a sound, stood from the ground and picked up the jug that was now empty. Unfortunately, though, it had sprayed all over Pycelle, who out of fear sat as still as stone. "Come, Oswell, show us why you were given this position. Strike her so she won't get up."

Oswell looked at the girl, who looked back at him in fear. She dropped the jug in fear and ran for the steel doors, not wanting to know what her fate entailed. "Please no! I have a-a- family to feed, please no." She begged, desperately trying to open the doors that had been locked by Barristan when he had walked in.

"See Stannis, she has a family to feed," Aerys drawled, looking pointedly at the Hand. "How will teach you a lesson, but still give her the chance to feed her family?"

"Your grace," Varys said, his tone wavering as he did so.

Aerys ignored him, signalling for Oswell to carry on. "Her tongue Oswell, perhaps then we can teach Stannis not to speak out of line."

Oswell nodded his head and made way for the girl, who was still trying to open the doors.

...

The sun had left them early that day, Arianne, who had spent every single day since Julian Tyrell had drunkenly and forcibly kissed her, found herself tossed from bed by Nymella and Penelope, who had both rushed in and said the King had called for an audience. Arianne slipped into a light blue dress, something she had made in memory of home, that was as plain as could be. It had no real fashion or design to it, and she looked like a true bastard in it.

Nymella had begged her to choose something different, as there would be prying eyes, but Arianne had refused. She had stopped caring what people thought a long time ago. Jonothor accompanied them to the Great Hall and even walked Arianne past the hush of whispering crowds to the Throne, where Rhaegar, Elia, Oberyn, the King and the Queen stood waiting for her. Stannis Baratheon also stood right beside the King, he had a smudge of red on his forehead and his Hand pin had been placed front and centre of his tunic. Both bowing, they made their way up the short steps, Arianne standing closer to the Throne and the King than she did to Rhaegar. Adrift between the two could not have been any more obvious.

Arianne turned to smile at Oberyn, though he looked solemnly to the ground, hands behind his back and his face a sickly yellow. Rhaegar, who had stepped closer to her cleared his throat. "Stop staring, people are watching." She did not reply to him, she did not even turn to him, merely looked at the crowd with a dull face. She could only recognise a few faces, some she had taken the liberty of memorising for when the time came, others who she knew would be gone soon enough; undoubtedly, none had taken the liberty of coming up to her and introducing themselves. Jaime and Cersei stood out to her, they were lined up at the very front of the crowd, Cersei proud of her position and Jaime looked as if he wanted to bolt out of the doors any chance he got.

The Hall doors reopened, this time, with guards wearing armour that Arianne had never seen but assumed was Targaryen, from the large three-headed dragon painted on in the middle of the stark black body of it. A tall wooden statue was brought in, taller than the guards who struggled to carry it in. Behind them, a man that Nymella had pointed out to be the Kings Justice some time ago. Arianne had forgotten his name, but not the sheer size of him. He wore all black and carried a small black jar and with the other hand a tall burning candle.

She wanted to ask Rhaegar what was happening but couldn't find it in herself to let go of her pride that quickly. Was it a ritual? A blessing? Was Jaime being sworn in? There was the clanking of chains behind the guards and Kings Justice. Shella Whent followed by an unhelmed Ser Oswell. Shella had her head hung low as her good brother pushed her along gently.

Arianne did not know what the relationship between them was, but for him to have to suffer through watching his good sister in chains, that was something she'd never wish for anyone. Rhaegar looked down at Arianne through the corner of his eye, she had been frowning at the scene in front of her. Watching as the wooden pole was placed in the middle of the room and the crowds pushed back to the walls. Cersei made well to let the Kingsguard who had nudged her back her thoughts, sneering at him as he did so. He turned to Jonothor as if to say why would you bring her? And Jonothor made a nod towards the King and mouthed orders.

The King, who had been watching silently as Shella was pushed to stand next to the wooden pole, stood from his seat. "One last chance, Lady Whent. Beg, on your knees or burn." Arianne's head snapped back to Rhaegar, he merely nudged her to look forward, now was certainly not the time to play a fool.

Shella stepped forward and spat on the ground. "Curse the day we invited any of you into our house."

The King turned to Stannis, giving the man a pointed look, Stannis looked at him and then to the ground, grinding his teeth in frustration. "Rossart, burn her until she is nothing but dust." The Kings Justice, Rossart, began to free Shella from her chains and with the help of Oswell, tied her feet and hands together. From the movement of her lips, it was evident that Shella was either whispering to him or praying. Rossart handed the candle for Oswell to hold, and he layered the floor with a thin sheet of a green substance. Arianne squinted, she had never seen the likes of it, perhaps they were threatening her. She did not want to believe it, in her heart. All the things that the King had been said to do to be true.

Shella let out one last mutter, directed at Oberyn. "You, Martell. Yes, you the man responsible for this. Give my daughter the protection from these monsters she deserves.:

Arianne turned to Oberyn, who looked at Shella surprised by her bold words.

The King stepped forward, as Rhaegar pulled her back. She did not budge though, freeing her arm from his hold. "Stop being stupid Arianne," he whispered, forcefully pulling her back, "do you want to risk your life or not?"

She ignored him, the King had begun speaking. "You come into my home," he begun as Oswell moved back from Shella and took a spot next to Jaime, as far away as he could get. "Threaten my son, my wife, myself, a Prince of Drone, for a cursed castle? Why should I help a family with no money, no future-,"

"Aerys please, I think you've scared her enough," Rhaella begged, watching as Rossart too moved away from Shella, he had cut the candle short and placed it on the ground.

Aerys turned to his sister-wife, whispered something and turned back around. "You will feel what it feels to upset a dragon." He laughed, watching as the candle's flame caught onto the green substance and creep up to Shella's feet.

"Rhaegar, w-what's happening?" Arianne whispered, looking towards Elia and Oberyn, who had their heads down, then to the crowd, who had down the same.

"Stop being naive Arianne and just look at the doors." Rhaegar pulled her by her hand gently, his touch cold on her sweaty palms, and put her head between his shoulder and chest. When she heard Shella beg for the fire to be put out and Aerys retort back meaningless insults and bursts of laughter she wrapped her arm around him and looked up at him. Rhaegar whispered a small "shh" at her mutters and sobs. As she held him tight, she heard Shella let out screams and pleas, her voice sounding less human as time went on. There was no crackling, like she had expected, as the flames grew, there was no dust that came down. Just green. In the shadow of her Rhaegar's crown, she saw a yellow hue, reflecting from the green flames. It was over as quick as it had started, Arianne didn't want to look at the now burnt spot where Shella had once been, but instead, focused her attention of Rhaegar's lilac eyes and the ringing from her ears.

...