Mimi's Smile

Kingslanding

It had been a moon since Rhaella's passing, they held a funeral two days later in the Sept of Baelor. The purple painted pebbles placed delicately on Rhaella's eyes reminding Rhaegar of his sweet mother's eyes. Aerys had not attended, worried for his own safety, but had retired to his rooms for the entire two days.

Brandon's forces were rumoured to be half a moon away from Kingslanding, having passed Riverrun and the Stormlands – Arianne watched as the Keep was transformed from a peaceful place she had called home to a soldier's training ground. Every possible open space was occupied with men awaiting the arrival of the Northern rebellion, colours and sigils she had never seen flying high around the Keep's gates, and armour decorated differently showing her just how seriously this war was becoming.

Rhaegar, who had summoned Tywin to Kingslanding for the very reason of war counsel, had been excluded by Aerys from the actual council. Rhaegar paid no mind to it, ignoring his father's wishes for once in his life and creating his own detached council. It was made up of Tywin, who had provided and promised some ten-thousand men and gold to pay for their expenses; Mace, who had provided twenty-thousand men and grain to keep them sustained should the Keep fall under siege – something Tywin had sworn to Rhaegar would not occur. Prince Oberyn and Prince Doran had shipped their best soldier's along, Oberyn returning to the place he had worked so hard to be free of – he was glad to see old faces though. Tywin, Oberyn, Mace, Julian and Otto. He was happy with that. His council would grow as those who had been summoned came to Kingslanding.

They had heard a few things about Brandon's requests, one of the key ones being his proclamation to free the North from the Seven Kingdoms. He had also sent a messenger a week ago to inform them of these requests.

"He's just going as high as he can to see what he can squeeze from you," Tywin said, watching as the Northern messenger shook in his leather boots. "Who are you boy? Whose son? Whose brother? What family do you belong to?" He demanded, holding his hands behind his back as he questioned the young boy.

They were stood just a little way from the castle gates, heavily guarded and secluded from any onlookers.

The boy whimpered, "I-I-I I am of House Tully, a nephew to Hoster Tully."

Rhaegar looked to Tywin for support, "you will tell us all you can occurring in the Northern camp."

"My lord, I cannot."

"Then I shall have return you back to your uncle piece by piece, is this what you desire?" The older man responded, Rhaegar wanted to interrupt but knew Tywin would do no such thing ... he hoped.

The boy looked from the Prince to the lord and gave a defeated sigh. "They are about half a moon ride away. You've made it a little easy. House Grafton of the refused the call of the Arryn's. Houses Darry, Ryger, Goodbrook and Mooton refused their call from us -," he referred to the Tully's, "Houses Fell, Cafferen, Grandison and Connington refused the call of the Stormlands. House Connington-,"

"Did I ask for schooling?" Tywin asked the boy, nearing him. "I asked you to tell us all can about the Northern camp. We know about those loyal to us standing for what is right. Now ... will you tell us?"

The boy, who had been skirting around giving important information sighed once more. "They have forty thousand men, seasoned fighters. My cousin, Lysa, was married to Jon Arryn as an alliance with the Vale."

"Are they angry?" Rhaegar asked him.

"Very your grace. King-,"

"King?" Tywin looked back to Rhaegar. He had told Rhaegar the only way that the Lannister's would support the Targaryen's was if he took the crown from his father, peacefully or not. And now Brandon was not only demanding the North be independent, but he had crowned himself as King. He was not one to stay on a losing side and needed Rhaegar to make his moves, quickly.

"Yes, my lord. King Brandon ... he is very angry. Every night he swears to cut you down, your grace."

"Right," Tywin huffed, taking the boy by his hair.

"My lord I've told you all I can!" He squeaked.

"Yes, I want you to show this new King of the North what awaits him, his son, his lord's sons and all men who ride with him, should he continue his venture towards Kingslanding." He took his sword from his side, held it above his head and swung it down, earning a loud scream from the boy. He had cut his right hand from his wrist, sniffing as he cleaned his sword with his shirt. "Clean him up and send him back," Tywin instructed those around him.

They had returned to the Keep a while later, to discuss their next move. "Are you sure we should stay here?" Rhaegar asked Tywin for the hundredth time, tapping his hand impatiently on the wooden desk. He had disagreed with the treatment of the messenger, making sure to make his displeasure known. Tywin had reminded him they were at war not making a truce with the Stark's.

Tywin nodded his head, "your father ... he has sent at least ten-thousand Targaryen soldiers for a butchering. Meeting Brandon in an open field is a waste of men. Let him come to us, we will close the cities gates as they near and starve them out. His men will show their loyalty then."

Rhaegar nodded. "I understand."

"Your grace," Tywin began, Rhaegar knew what he was to say, he had been saying it for so long now. "I am loyal to you, you know this. I am not fighting for a Mad King to stay on that Throne – I am fighting for a new future. You must make it known that you are the fittest one to rule and take him from the throne."

He was now sat on a chair by a garden balcony that overlooked the city, almost waiting for Brandon to march the city that very moment. His wife, who had been confirmed to being five moons with child by Maester Pycelle, was somewhere within the Keep with the children.

Rhaegar had to admit, this time around she had barely shown any signs to pregnancy and was not as round as she was the same time she had been with child with the twins. That or perhaps he had not been paying enough attention to her. That meant the twins were now six moons old almost seven and had shown their first two front teeth. He preferred spending time with them, the talk about Brandon annoying him from time to time. Tywin had proposed they wait in Kingslanding, drawing them in. But they were constantly hearing of castles they had sacked and of the land they gained – having called most of their men to the city. He had to promise large reparations for the families who had sacrificed their ancestral homes as bait, going as far as to give secondary castles to some.

Of course, he had a conversation, well more argument with Arianne about her leaving Kingslanding. She insisted on staying in Kingslanding and had asked Rhaegar if he was so confident in their victory why he felt the need to send her away. They had come to the compromise of sending the twins to Dorne in a week's time with Nymella and Penelope to stay with the Martell's as a form of trust-building. Prince Doran had also requested Oberyn be given a seat at the war council – which he was, and be given a private audience with Rhaegar – which he would be in a few days.

He sighed, playing with his ring. Now all he had to worry about was bringing his father gently from the throne.

"You!"

Rhaegar snapped his head around, it was Julian, running towards him at speeds unknown to man. Behind him ran Otto and Mace, unable to keep up with the light-footed Tyrell.

Arthur and Ser Lewyn, who had been tasked with guarding Rhaegar drew their swords at the approaching Julian. "Step back my lord!" Arthur shouted from underneath his helm.

"No, it's alright," Rhaegar said, holding his hand out to the two and passing them by. "What is it?" He asked Julian.

He saw his face clearly now, it was stained with tears, his cheeks and nose were red, and his eyes were puffy. Julian drew his hand back, balling it into a fist, he grabbed onto Rhaegar's shirt and punched him. "I have stuck by you," he cried, lowering his head to a bent-over Rhaegar. Rhaegar held his hand out again to the two Kingsguard behind him. He held onto his nose in pain, groaning and blinked as he felt blood trickle from his nose to his lips. "I have waited as you twiddled your thumbs, I have agreed to commit treason for you – all because I love you as a brother would love a brother. And look at where it has gotten me."

"Julian!" Mace shouted, drawing his cousin back and apologising to Rhaegar.

He shouted a few incoherent words, "I would fall on my own sword before fighting for a coward!"

"What in the gods' name is wrong with him!?" Rhaegar exclaimed, wiping his nose dry with his shirt.

"The King has had Mimi burnt," Otto whispered, watching as Julian was led away by Mace. He did not hold back from his shouts and profanities, stripping himself of his light armour as he went. He had drawn the attention of some onlookers as well. Otto squinted, watching as they returned to the Keep. "For refusing to name her brother as a traitor."

The council, Rhaegar thought to himself, he must've found out about it. It wasn't exactly like he'd tried to hide it from him.

...