RHAEGAR
The Great Hall of the Red Keep, which had been gloomy and cold for these past few months, had transformed. Thousands of candles burned in every sconce, in every niche, and atop the long tables, creating a sea of warm golden light. The light reflected off silver goblets, polished armor, and the jewelry of noblewomen, making the entire room sparkle as if sprinkled with stars.
Music floated softly from the musicians' gallery above, a melody of harp and flute that was polite, loud enough to fill the silence yet quiet enough to allow conversation.
Rhaegar Targaryen stood near the main dais, holding a goblet of wine that was barely touched. He wore a tunic of black velvet, simple yet regal. His purple eyes swept around the room, observing the collection of humans who called themselves the rulers of Westeros.
Tonight was an important night. This was a welcoming night, an informal evening before the official oaths of fealty that would be conducted in a week. Here, amidst wine and smiles, alliances were formed and whispered.
In the right corner, he saw Tywin Lannister. The Hand of the King stood tall like a statue, speaking with Hoster Tully of Riverrun. Tywin dominated the conversation without saying much, while Hoster nodded with cautious enthusiasm. The West and River alliance, thought Rhaegar. Something he had to watch.
At another table, Princess Martell sat with her son, Prince Doran. They looked calm, observing the room with dark eyes, speaking in laughs and whispers only they understood.
Rhaegar shifted his gaze when he realized there was movement towards him.
A middle-aged husband and wife were parting the crowd. The man was slightly stout and had a friendly face, Luthor Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden. Beside him walked a woman who was much smaller yet radiated an aura of authority far greater, Olenna Tyrell.
They stopped before him and bowed respectfully.
"Your Grace," greeted Olenna, her smile sharp yet sweet like a rose with thorns. "You look radiant tonight. Even in a time of mourning, seeing a strong King is a good thing for the realm and the smallfolk. It gives them hope that the sun will still rise."
Luthor added with a quick nod, "Quite right. You will be a strong king, Your Grace. The Seven bless you."
Rhaegar returned their smiles with a light, practiced smile. He knew they said it only for mere pleasantries, sweet diplomacy. Yet it could not be denied that the praise soothed a few nerves that throbbed lightly in his head due to the party's noise.
"Thank you, Lord Luthor, Lady Olenna," said Rhaegar politely. "It is time we sweep away the grief and face the future, is it not? The Kingdom cannot stop just because one man is gone. You both also look lovely tonight. A couple truly suited for one another, like the fertile soil of the Reach and the sun that shines upon it."
Olenna laughed softly, a sound that sounded like dry paper being crumpled.
"You are too kind, Your Grace. And too skilled at flattery for a man known to be quiet," said Olenna wittily. "We are both old, Your Grace. Look, wrinkles here and there. A few grey hairs appear occasionally, and if before they could be plucked or disguised with dye, now we can hide them no longer. We are flowers beginning to wilt."
"That makes you look wiser, My Lady," Rhaegar chuckled softly. "Wisdom is a crown more precious than gold."
"Ah, if only all young men thought like that," Olenna snorted with amusement. "Most only look at tight skin and heaving bosoms."
The conversation continued lightly for a few moments. They talked about the Reach harvest which was bountiful this year, about the quality of the Arbor wine being served, and about their long yet comfortable journey.
However, Rhaegar knew, like other nobles, the Tyrells would not waste time just to talk about wine. She was heading towards something.
Then, the awaited moment arrived.
Olenna smiled, her eyes glinting full of calculation.
"Speaking of beauty and the future, Your Grace," Olenna began, her tone changing slightly lower, more conspiratorial. "Have you thought about a prospective Queen to accompany you? The Iron Throne is a cold place without a woman to keep you company."
Rhaegar held his breath so as not to sigh visibly.
"We have a daughter named Janna," continued Olenna, not giving Rhaegar a chance to interrupt. "She is a sweet girl, far more beautiful than her mother in her youth. And she is good at singing, Your Grace. I hear you like music. Her voice is very melodious, able to calm a restless heart. She is also good at reading and managing a household. Perfect for the Red Keep."
Rhaegar's mood, which had started to improve earlier, instantly fell. This was the umpteenth time he had heard a variation of this sentence tonight. Prince Doran had subtly alluded to Elia. And then many other Lords.
Everyone wanted to sell their daughters for the crown of a Queen.
Rhaegar swirled his wine glass slowly. He had not revealed to anyone, except his mother, that he would be betrothed to Cersei Lannister. It felt not right yet to announce a betrothal when his father's ashes were just cold inside the urn. He also did not want to speak before everything was formalized in a legal contract and announced.
Honestly, Rhaegar was also not too excited about all this. Marriage, to him, should be about love, or at least about a soul connection like in the songs. But he was King. And as a king, he had to find a position that was stable and unshakable. Allies had to be made. Foundations had to be strengthened.
Tywin Lannister brought gold, armies, and administrative competence that was unrivaled. And Rhaegar had also promised to marry Cersei before, a verbal promise he gave to Tywin in dire times. Although their initial agreement that could bind him had failed, Rhaegar felt bound by honor to fulfill it now.
So logically, Rhaegar could still look for another wife. He could choose Janna Tyrell and get the granary of the Reach. He could choose Elia Martell and get Dorne. But he was not stupid enough to let go of the power and influence Tywin brought at this critical time of power transition. He needed Tywin.
"I have heard much about Lady Janna, My Lady," replied Rhaegar, his voice polite but closed, like a locked gate. "That she is the fairest rose in Highgarden. And your offer is very interesting, an honor for House Targaryen."
Olenna leaned in slightly, hopeful.
"However," continued Rhaegar, his eyes looking at Olenna with gentle firmness, "I have more important matters to attend to than marriage for now. The Kingdom has just lost a King. The people are still mourning. Stabilizing the land and ensuring the transition runs peacefully is my top priority. Do you not agree, Lady Olenna?"
It was a rejection. Subtle, polite, yet undeniable. He used grief as a shield.
Olenna froze for a moment. Her smile did not waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing the young King before her. Luthor glanced at his wife in silence, looking confused about what to say.
But Olenna, who had been through more than thousands of social battles, recovered quickly.
"You are right, Your Grace," she replied, bowing her head slightly deeper than before. "Forgive this old woman. I was so carried away by a mother's feeling wanting to see her child happy, that I became presumptuous. Of course, the realm comes first. That shows your wisdom."
"There is nothing to forgive," said Rhaegar. "A mother's love is a noble thing."
The conversation continued briefly to safer topics about the palace gardens, before finally Olenna and Luthor excused themselves.
Rhaegar watched them go, merging back with the crowd. He raised his goblet to his lips, drinking the red wine that tasted tart. One attack successfully deflected. There were still hundreds more waiting.
The dark red liquid inside Rhaegar's goblet was finished, leaving a dark pool at the bottom. He looked at his distorted reflection on the silver metal surface, the face of a young king tired yet full of determination, before placing it back on the table with a soft sound almost inaudible amidst the party's hustle.
Heavy yet steady footsteps were heard approaching, separating from the crowd. Rhaegar turned slowly, his cloak rustling.
Before him stood Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. The man was an impressive figure, with broad shoulders and a laugh that seemed always ready to explode on his lips. He brought with him an aura of natural warmth, as if he brought a hearth with him into this cold hall.
Beside him stood a boy who looked like a miniature yet harder version of his father. Stannis Baratheon. His age was perhaps only ten and three namedays, yet he stood with the stiffness of a war veteran. His body was a little thin, his shoulders tense, and on his lips was plastered a polite smile that looked clearly forced. However, Rhaegar gave him a little appreciation internally. The boy was trying to honor his king, even though clearly he would prefer to be elsewhere.
"I hope you are not drinking too much, Your Grace," greeted Steffon with a familiar joking tone, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Because that means you will sleep too soon until you forget to welcome everyone who has come from far away to kiss your ring."
Steffon smiled brightly. Somehow, this man always brought a soothing air, contrasting with the air of King's Landing. He was a fresh breeze from the southern sea.
Rhaegar returned the smile, though his was more restrained. "I only drink enough, Lord Baratheon. Just to wet the throat so my mouth and tongue do not have a bitter taste after a day of talking. Getting drunk does not sound wise to me on the first night appearing in public."
"Yes... you are right," Steffon nodded, taking a goblet from a passing servant's tray. "Sometimes drinking is a medicine for most people to calm their hearts, to forget burdens for a moment. Is it not? I am glad you are not a person like that. We have seen enough of what wine does to good people."
Rhaegar nodded politely. He was not too close to the man in front of him personally. In the past, his late father often spoke of their childhood friendship of the three, Aerys, Tywin, and Steffon. But due to each Lord's affairs, they rarely met in recent years.
His father always spoke with a nostalgic tone that if Tywin was cold and calculating ice, then Steffon was the opposite: warm and burning fire. He was spirited, impulsive in a good way, and was the only person who ever made Tywin Lannister laugh more often.
"The last thing anyone wants is a drunkard king whose job is only drinking wine and forgetting his kingdom," Rhaegar chuckled softly, a comment that felt ironic considering the history of several Targaryen kings. "How are things at Storm's End, Lord Baratheon? Do storms still batter your walls?"
"Always, Your Grace. Storms outside, and storms inside," answered Steffon while heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Nothing interesting, other than people who like to get angry. My bannermen... they often quarrel over land borders, over rights to this and that, over who marries whom. Your Grace. Managing adults who act like children is a full-time job."
Steffon looked at Rhaegar with a gaze that suddenly became more serious and sympathetic. "And I think, you will experience things heavier than me. Westeros is a much bigger Storm's End, with storms far more deadly."
Those words echoed in Rhaegar's mind. Of course he had known that for a long time. He had seen how that burden destroyed his father. But he was now more confident. He was not Aerys. He had learned. He could overcome the problems that would come, he just had to have a clear head and mind. If not, he failed. And failure was not an option.
Clear mind, patience, and action. That was his new mantra.
"I do not doubt it, My Lord," said Rhaegar, his voice calm and full of conviction. "Managing a kingdom this big will require time, much thought, and perhaps a little luck. But it is an honor I accept with open arms. And I will not tarnish what my father and ancestors left behind. I will fix it."
"You have the spirit your father had back then," said Steffon suddenly, his eyes gazing for a moment into the past. He laughed a little, a sound that sounded warm yet sad. "Very exactly like that. Back then, King Aerys also had his own doubts before he was crowned, you know? Young Aerys... he didn't talk too much about his fears, but as his close friend I could see it in his eyes."
Steffon shook his head, smiling at the memory. "Luckily he also had Tywin Lannister by his side so he could get through it in every early year of his reign. They worked together, complementing each other, and the result was good. The Kingdom prospered."
Not too good in the end, was it? Rhaegar held himself back from saying it. You don't know what happened these few years, Steffon. You didn't see how that 'friendship' turned into poison.
Steffon Baratheon, who spent most of his time at Storm's End, probably didn't realize how deep the cracks were between the King and his Hand. He didn't know that Aerys's jealousy of Tywin's abilities had slowly rotted everything from the inside. The Lord of Storm's End was too busy with his own affairs, or perhaps he chose to remember the good times only. That was natural.
"And you, Your Grace, also have him," continued Steffon, pointing vaguely towards Tywin who was standing in the distance, looking dominant amidst the crowd. "Do not hesitate to discuss with him on many matters. He may be famous for his sour and gloomy face, he can never tell a joke correctly, but he is undeniably the most capable lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Use him, like your father used him. That is advice from an old friend."
Rhaegar nodded politely. "Your advice I accept, Lord Baratheon. Lord Tywin is a valuable asset."
An asset that must be controlled, not one that controls, he added in his heart.
They chatted for a moment longer about lighter things, about hunting in the woods, about the quality of new ships built at Storm's End, and about the improving weather. Steffon's laughter several times broke the formality around them, drawing the attention of some people who smiled seeing the familiarity of the new King with the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
Then, Rhaegar turned his attention to the quiet figure beside Steffon.
"And how are you, Stannis?" asked Rhaegar gently.
Stannis looked a little surprised to be spoken to directly. He straightened his already upright body, as if being inspected in a line of soldiers. Rhaegar was not close to this child. They had only met face to face three times in their lives, and every time, Stannis always looked like he was swallowing a lemon.
"I am well, Your Grace," answered Stannis stiffly. His voice was flat, without intonation of pleasantries. "Thank you for asking."
"You are ten and three namedays now?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"A good age. An age to start shouldering responsibility," said Rhaegar, trying to find an opening. "Are you enjoying the capital?"
Stannis hesitated for a moment, as if weighing between honesty and politeness. "This city... is crowded, Your Grace. And the smell is strong."
Rhaegar laughed a little, a sincere laugh this time. Brutal honesty. "Yes, King's Landing does indeed have a distinctive aroma. You must get used to it, or you must learn to hold your breath."
Stannis only nodded, not joining in the laughter. He gave a thin smile again.
"Well, we will not disturb your time any longer, Your Grace," said Steffon, sensing the awkwardness. He patted his son's shoulder. "There are still many other Lords who want to curry favor in front of you. We will take our leave."
"Thank you, Lord Steffon. Stannis."
They bowed. Steffon with casual grace, Stannis with undoubted precision.
Rhaegar watched them go, merging back into the sea of smiling and whispering faces. He saw Steffon embrace Stannis's shoulder, whispering something that made the boy relax a little.
There was a feeling of envy that suddenly pierced Rhaegar's heart. A normal father and son relationship. Something he never had, and would never have.
He sighed a long sigh, driving away the existing thoughts.
...
There's going to be a time skip, and a lot is going to change. What do you guys want to see? Leave a comment, and I'll include it in the story! :'D
Power Stones would be greatly appreciated, it would also keep me motivated for faster updates. If we reach 300, I will upload an extra chapter.
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Thanks for reading!