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A Golden Path by Ideas-Guy
Dune & A Song of Ice and Fire Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure & Drama, Paul A., Eddard S./Ned, Words: 172k+, Favs: 2k+, Follows: 2k+, Published: Jun 17, 2024 Updated: Aug 24
882Chapter 8: First Steps 1-8
Skagos was a rough, barren land, Ned thought to himself as they arrived upon the island under a dense and heavy fog. The ride had been a short one, thankfully, but a tense one nonetheless. Robert had braced himself against the railing in anticipation that they would strike an iceberg the entire way. The trip was quiet too, no one speaking, with only the sound of ropes creaking and waves lapping to fill the silence.
It felt like they were stealing away into the domain. As if they were trespassing. It grated at Ned's nerves, but upon their arrival, he knew it was the correct decision. The beach they landed on was made of stone - rough sand and pebbles acting as the beach head while tall jagged cliff sides acted as a barrier of entry. Just a hundred men on that cliffside, armed with arrows and heavy stones, would have been able to repel an army a thousand strong. It was almost like looking at a castle.
"Come, come! I will take you to the others," the man that rowed them across the straight said, gesturing for them to follow. "Best to hurry. They might not know where we are, but they expect someone to come eventually." Paul inclined his head to the man, following him into the dense fog while the rest of their guards arrived. The ship that they arrived on similarly seemed to melt into the fog while he, Elbert, and Robert all made to follow their guide.
"Ned, I mean this with love - but what a shitehole," Robert summarized his thoughts on Skagos as he pulled his cloak closer to his body. "It's the height of summer, and I'm about to catch a bloody chill. Can't see a damned thing either, but what I do see reminds me of the Eyrie. No offense, Elbert," he added, squinting into the fog as they walked.
Elbert offered a small chuckle, "None taken. Though at least in the Eyrie, it's warm." There was a small pause before he continued, "It's rather interesting to think that anyone would willingly choose to live here."
There was a reflex to defend his homeland from their words, but it was hard to disagree with them. He had yet to see the whole island, but what he had seen so far was rocky soil so poor that grass couldn't even grow in it. Though, that could be because of the summer snow that occasionally crunched under foot. The island was barren. The waters around it treacherous. The air frigid. It was a land that you could only love if it was the only land you had ever known.
"There must be some draw to it," Ned acknowledged. "I suspect that we might find out soon enough."
They would, as it so happened. As they climbed up the cliffside by a rough trail, the fog began to thin out little by little. By the time they reached the top, they could see beyond the bridges of their noses. The terrain was rough and mountainous - not hills so much as sudden cliffs that could either go up as little as a foot or tower over them. It was as he gazed out into the thinned fog that he saw a man on top of one of the cliff sides.
Though the man was of less interest compared to what he was riding. It looked to be a large hairy goat with a horn jutting out of its head. A unicorn, Ned realized. Lyanna couldn't ever be allowed to see one. Her heart would be equally heartbroken by the tedious creature as it would be set on riding it. The unicorn's rider brought a horn to his lips and blew, the sound echoing out.
Their guide threw up his hands, "Bah! Of course. I make a dozen trips by myself no problem, but as soon as I escort some lords, I get caught."
"That was one of Lord Crowls scouts, I take it?" Ned ventured, watching the man pull away from their view. Likely off to inform his lord what he had seen.
"It was," Paul agreed, unbothered by their arrival being announced. "Stilgar - I trust everything is in position to greet them?" He asked, his pace not breaking stride as he continued onward.
"You shame me for even having to ask," the now named Stilgar said, making a dismissive gesture to his lord. They had a unique relationship, Ned thought to himself. They didn't behave like a lord and vassal.
However, that wasn't the issue here. "If you have a plan, Lord Atreides, I would know of it." He spoke up, setting pace next to Paul and sending him a pointed look.
Paul inclined his head to him, "The grounds where the conversation will happen have been chosen in advance. Lord Hjalti will arrive with his men mustered as a show of force. The field we have chosen limits the effectiveness of his advantage in numbers."
It was disquieting how calmly he spoke of it - as if there was no doubt what the Lord Crowl would do. And while Ned was uneasy at the thought of this coming to a fight, Robert was grinning ear to ear.
"So, it'll be a fight then? Perfect! Let's crush some skulls," he said, gazing off in the direction that the scout had taken off in. He was ready for a fight. Ned supposed that it was a good thing he had already packed his armor. Elbert, however, seemed far less enthused at the prospect of battle.
Ned swallowed a frown, "I have no disagreements with the precautions taken. So long as diplomacy is made in earnest. If Lord Crowl shirks his vows and disobeys the will of my father… whatever happens next is on his head." Ned voiced, earning a nod from Paul as they continued on.
"An attempt will be made, my lord. Though the result, I'm afraid, is a forgone conclusion," He voiced and Ned found that he didn't disagree.
The location for the talks was a good one, Ned saw upon their arrival. It was a plateau that jutted up, almost like a small mountain rather than a hill. Deep crevices surrounded it, but the cliffsides weren't so steep that they couldn't be surmounted - doing so was simply unappealing when there was a much easier land bridge that led to the plateau. Based on what he had seen in the Eyrie, it seemed that there was once a river that flowed around the small mountain.
At the plateau of that mountain, Ned saw signs of a camp. It was a bit high up, but within walkable distance. Casterly Rock writ small, if the descriptions of the Lannister home were to be believed.
"He knows his stuff," Robert remarked as they crossed the land bridge that was just wide enough for ten men walking shoulder to shoulder to cross. "This place looks like a right pain in the arse to attack."
"You honor me, Lord Baratheon," Paul replied without looking back. "Provided that all goes well, this shall be the home of House Atreides for generations to come." He informed, making Ned inspect the lands anew. The terrain around the area was everything but even. There was no farmable land to be found either. They would be able to sustain themselves with fish from the sea, but…
This was a hard land to live in.
The mission his father gave to him rang out in his ears, prompting him to speak. "Why here? It is a defensible location, on that I can easily see, but…"
"I can't imagine why anyone would willingly live here," Robert continued, his tone blunt as his hammer. Paul laughed lightly, far from offended.
"It is as I told your father - the location of which my people can settle are few because of specific conditions. This, my lords… is an aborted volcano," he informed as they continued to walk. "Some six hundred years ago, there was an eruption north of the Wall and it strangled this would-be volcano in the crib and left it inert." That was…
"How?" Robert blurted, interested as he looked at the small mountain- the supposed volcano, with fascination.
"The easiest way to explain it is that when the pressure was released in this area, things shifted. Instead of underground pressure building up here once more, it built up in another location. It could be nearby, or it could be far away - I don't know." Paul elaborated as they walked, and as they did, Ned saw a cavern. He peered into it, only seeing darkness, unable to see its end. "The result is that the entire area is littered with magma tubes. They run throughout the volcano itself. Added to the natural hot springs that still linger in the area… the lack of farmland aside, it is uniquely situated to fulfill my needs."
That would explain it, Ned reasoned as they reached the top. A place like Stony Shore would be more convenient, but it lacked what he needed. Likewise, it made whatever process that he used difficult to replicate because Ned couldn't imagine there were many dead volcanoes in the world.
At the top, Ned saw the camp itself. It was organized. The tents were arranged in neat rows before the opening of what seemed to be a great cavern with people walking about, hurrying along with tasks and preparations. All of them wore that same odd-looking armor that Stilgar wore from what he could see. The people didn't look like wildlings- or, rather, what he assumed wildlings would look like. There was no crazed faces, sharpened teeth, or gratuitous scars.
They looked like normal people. Well-groomed even, considering the hard march they must have experienced. There were men, women, and children that all swiftly took notice of their arrival. It was then that Ned saw them greet their lord.
They greeted him with love. There was no fear or nervousness to be found. The people that Paul took as his vassals loved him. Respected him. Admired him. They greeted him as if he were a conquering hero that walked out of a storybook. It was revealing, Ned thought. Before his departure, he was informed of the measures that his father and brother took to learn more about their new vassal. They had never managed to discover anything.
And perhaps this played a part in that.
Their party was welcomed into the camp and they were quickly settled near the heart of it. Robert readied himself by putting on his armor while Elbert walked the grounds. Ned joined Paul in his tent, finding that it was equal to anything he could expect from a high lord. Paul was left behind the Wall, but he hadn't suffered for it as far as Ned could tell.
"Time is short - I expect that Lord Crowl will arrive in force shortly. Before then, I would like to know what you intend for the peace treaty," Paul spoke, certain that it would be a fight.
His father's words echoed in his ears, and Ned considered them. His father wanted harsh punishments. To destroy House Crowl as a warning to any other House in the North that considered disobedience. A punishment that felt… undeserved, in Ned's mind. Certainly, they should be punished. Harshly, even. But to destroy them was… excessive.
All the same, those were the orders of his father.
"If Lord Crowl cannot be made to see reason, then my father has granted me the authority to condemn them. Lord Crowl will be stripped of his lordship, and his lands granted to his next of kin, however removed." That was a fair judgment in his mind, but not what his father desired. "The next lord will be required to pay you restitution of some kind. Such as by having a portion of the taxes House Crowl collects granted to House Atreides."
For a small house such as House Crowl, already weakened by a portion of their lands being taken, the restitution would be a death blow. They could hope for a slow death - their strength being leeched away and left unable to support themselves… or, given the harshness of the land, one of their fellow houses would pounce upon them in their weakened state.
It wasn't truly what his father wanted, but Ned tried to convince himself that the result was the same. He had little taste for needless slaughter.
"I am amenable to these terms," Paul stated. "Though, I have little need for coin or foodstuffs. What I do require is manpower. My craftsmen are skilled in their trade, but building castles are outside of their skill set. For the most part," he added and Ned found himself rather curious about the admission.
"You would trust your foes to build your home?" Ned questioned instead, finding that he liked the idea. It would be to the same end if the smallfolk were granted to House Atreides - though, such a thing was far too akin to trading in flesh for his liking. There was a better way, in the end.
They simply expanded Paul's lands. The villages, thus the smallfolk within, would then pay homage to their new lord.
That, Ned suspected, would please his father more while also saving Ned from any pointless killing.
"I don't consider Lord Crowl to be my enemy, Lord Eddard. What he's doing is understandable," Paul admitted, his lips thinning. "I am the one that has come to his home and decided that I would take a piece of it for myself. While he should obey his liege lord in all things, I do understand why he shall refuse."
Ned breathed a little easier hearing that. "As do I, if we are being honest," he admitted.
Paul inclined his head to him, "I intend for the transition to be as smooth as I can make it. I require them to help build my castle, and I would see them compensated as they deserve. I am no Harren the Black." He knew of the history of the Seven Kingdoms. That was good. It showed that he intended to join the Seven Kingdoms in earnest rather than merely pay lip service.
It made Ned feel a little more confident in the whole arrangement. He would do his duty no matter what, but he would prefer knowing that he wouldn't be leaving a disaster in his wake.
All that was left was actually winning the battle to come, and Paul had been right on the mark there - they didn't have to wait long. Almost within the hour, the scouts on watch reported that Lord Crowl was coming, at the head of a small army of a hundred soldiers. He didn't put spears in the hands of every boy, but he made his intentions known.
Ned readied himself for what would likely be a battle. He was dressed in his armor - chain mail with dull gray plate over his vitals. Half-plate, in function as he was still growing and his house was hardly so rich they could afford to produce a new set everytime he had a growth spurt. Once he was properly equipped, wielding his greatsword strapped to his back, he departed down to the land bridge where the talks would be happening.
On the way down, he saw Robert. He wore a set of full plate, colored gold and black after the colors of his House. Antlers jutted out of his helm at the sides while a hefty warhammer rested easily in his hands. It was a far cry from the pick hammers most warriors wielded - in truth, it was closer to an anvil on a stick than not. Completely impractical and unwieldy for anyone else, as most struggled to lift the gargantuan warhammer as it was so off balance, much less wield it with the swiftness of a dagger like Robert managed.
He was brimming with excitement. Ned swallowed a smile when he saw his friend and felt compelled to point something out. "Your father is going to be rather cross if he hears about this." Robert liked to make light of it, but the truth of it was that he was the heir to the Stormlands. And this was ultimately a skirmish between Northern vassals.
Robert chuckled, "If." That sounded rather optimistic to Ned's ears, but it was the kind of response he expected of his friend.
Skirmishes between vassals were hardly uncommon. Within the North, the most well known example would be the Whitehills and Foresters. Ancient feuds gave men plenty of reasons to draw blades against their neighbors. But, what would happen here was no mere feud.
"Hm. I suppose I won't tell anyone if you won't," Ned said, earning a hearty chuckle from Robert. "I expect that Elbert is the wiser of the two of you?"
"Boring lout, more like," Robert agreed. "He'll observe, but he won't get his hands bloody." He said the words as if there was something wrong with Elbert for it. It was the opposite, really. This was an affair of the North, and the heirs of other Kingdoms shouldn't be involved at all. Ned simply knew better than to try to convince Robert to sit the battle out.
They chatted on their way down to where Ned observed Paul already there and waiting. His banner flapped in the wind - a red hawk on a black background. He shared House colors with House Crowl, who had taken position across from the bridge. Red spikes on black. At the head of the small army that effectively had them besieged was a tall man with fiery red hair and a bushy beard that had beads interwoven into it, while he wore furs and leathers.
Lord Crowl looked almost identical to what Ned imagined a wildling might. He looked like he could belong to the Mountain tribesmen in the Eyrie.
"We shall meet them in the middle to discuss terms. If peace can be made," Ned decided, speaking to Paul. If it came to battle, Ned felt confident. They had fewer numbers than Lord Crowl, but their position more than made up for it. They arrived with twenty five guardsmen, Paul had fifty warriors - which put their numbers near enough even. Crossing the bridge would be painful, but tempting enough that Lord Crowl wasn't likely to be dissuaded from making the attempt.
Across from them, Ned saw mostly infantry. There were a handful of archers that he saw, but they were a loose scattering. What he was more intrigued by was their cavalry - men mounted on unicorns, and there were a good dozen of them. They seemed useless in a battle in this terrain, which made it puzzling why exactly they hadn't dismounted to join the infantry.
Paul nodded, making a gesture before a white flag was raised. Lord Crowl had one raised as well before both of them met in the middle.
The results were… to be expected.
"This is my home," Hjalti Crowl uttered after Ned delivered the terms - the immediate acknowledgment of the order issued by his father with the disbanding of the army he had amassed. There was a low, bitter anger in his voice, looking upon them with nothing less than contempt. "It was the home of my father, and his father before him. For thousands of years, these lands have belonged to my family. I won't just give them away on the order of some mainlander."
Ned met the man's gaze evenly. He understood. More than he wanted to admit. "That mainlander is your liege lord," he reminded firmly, though he expected nothing of it.
Hjalti spat on the ground, "Aye. And what has that given us? My ancestors bent the knee to the Starks only to be forgotten. When our babies die of the cold, when our children and elderly die of hunger - have the Starks ever once lent us aid? Or a word of acknowledgment for our losses?" Hjalti cursed, proving to be far more well spoken than his appearance implied.
The grievances sounded familiar to Ned's ears. Almost identical to the grievances that his father had with the Crown.
"Now you come here, after forgetting that we existed for centuries, to take what is mine. What belongs to my children and grandchildren," Hjalti continued, his lips peeling back in a snarl. "A pox on you, Stark. You, and your kin. You'll get nothing from me but a swift death, and even that's more than you deserve." His ire was firmly on Ned because of his name, but Paul wasn't silent on the matter.
"Then I shall take that as a refusal of the terms?" Paul spoke up, making Hjalti's furious gaze shift to him. "If words have had no luck making you see reason, then our point shall be made with the end of a sword. Shall we settle this the old way? Myself against you? Or whatever champion you wish to name."
Hjalti scowled, his gaze flickering down to his ruined hand. It had suffered poorly because of frostbite over the winter, leaving him only with a pointer finger, part of his middle finger, most of his pinky, and thumb. "No," He decided, looking back up at Paul. "The Starks have proven their word means less than a dog's turd, and you smuggled your people into my lands. I have no faith that you will follow through on any promises that you make."
Ned was uncertain how much he believed that and how much his decision was due to his lack of confidence that he could win. It was a moot point, in the end. The offer of a duel was refused, leaving them with only one solution. Force of arms.
"Then let us commence with the battle of there is nothing more to be said," Paul decided, inclining his head to Hjalti.
The man looked down at Paul, his lips thinning. He clearly disliked his confidence, but there was only one thing he could say in response. "Aye. Let us begin," he said, turning away to join his army that readied itself to fight.
Likewise, he and Paul returned to their side of the land bridge. It was then that he noticed something - their numbers should have been about even, but it didn't look like it. The guardsmen that came with them served as the center with a handful of Paul's men acting as the flanks so the guardsmen could thicken their formation. There were about ten archers in total, but Ned noticed that all of them wielded weirwood bows. A treasure by any standard, and if now was the time for questions, Ned would wonder how exactly Paul had so many.
"It is my intention to fight in the vanguard," Paul informed him as they made their way back to the line. "While I am appreciative of Lord Baratheon's willingness to fight on my behalf, should he come to harm it would be… disastrous. For both my House, and the North as a whole, I suspect."
Ned nodded, accepting the point. "You would have me hold him back, then?" Robert wasn't one to miss out on glory.
"Only until the battle has already been won. It won't take long," Paul stated and Ned found his confidence reassuring. It was hard not to when he made it sound like victory was certain. "I just need you to hold your line until the signal is given - a horn will blow." He said and Ned nodded, accepting the task.
While he could have been outraged at the newest vassal of the North for giving him such a task, petty pride would only get people killed if Ned demanded changes to the strategy in the final hour, merely to massage his own ego.
So, he was content to follow the plan that Paul laid out. The formation was set, shields were raised, and after a long moment of tension, the silence broke when the Crowl men-at-arms began to march forward.
First, there was an exchange of arrows from the archers. On both sides of the bridge, they fired at the other side. It was then that the weirwood bows made their quality known. Their range was much greater and in the well trained hands of Paul's archers, they were devastatingly accurate. The arrow skirmish lasted only a few short volleys before the archers on Hjalti's side fell back, some dead, most injured, with only a few left in the fight.
Abandoning the exchange, the warriors of House Crowl began to march forward in a dense formation. They'd anticipated the issue of the land bridge and had prepared a solution - moving slowly with their shields overlapping both at the front of the formation as well as above their heads. It protected them from the arrows as they slowly made their way forward. Well, it did for the most part.
There were narrow gaps in the shields that the archers exploited with deadly accuracy. Many arrows thudded into the shields, but some struck true through those gaps and there were cries of pain from within the formation, but it held strong, moving closer. And, it was only when the quivers were empty that the formation started to pick up speed.
That was also when Ned was bewildered by a ridiculous sight. The cavalrymen that rode upon the unicorns dropped down into the crevice below. Ned was certain that they would break their legs or fall to their deaths, but with an almost unnerving amount of grace, the unicorns hopped down the crevice before they started climbing up, bypassing the bridge entirely.
The forces of House Crowl were committed and their plan clear. The cavalry would arrive behind them just as the main force struck their line. Between the two, their forces would crack and with the advantage of the terrain gone, their defeat seemed almost certain.
At least until Ned heard a sharp whistle in the air. His gaze went up to find that it was an arrow fired by one of their archers…
And it was then that he saw the battlefield change. Beyond House Crowl, almost exactly where their army had stood, were men that were throwing off their disguises. Stones and flats of pebbles revealed themselves to be men in disguise, seamlessly blending into the terrain until the signal was given. They revealed themselves by breaking into a dead sprint, rushing the army from behind while the soldiers of House Crowl recoiled in surprise.
There were shouts of shock and people barking orders to protect their rear. It was then that Paul shouted, "House Atreides! On me!" He exclaimed, breaking into a dead sprint across the bridge with the odd twenty men that had helped guard their end. Robert nearly joined them, only to be held back by a hand on his shoulder.
He would have just gotten in the way, they learned, with Paul jumping up before using a shield as a platform to flip over the now divided formation. He spun like he was in a mummer troup, and the moment he vanished from sight, Ned heard the sounds of men dying. The enemy formation soon collapsed under the weight of being surrounded, shattering like glass.
"Gods be good," Robert muttered in awe, simply watching the battle happen. Ned himself was in a similar state of disbelief.
It was a slaughter. Pure and simple. Every warrior moved like they had stepped out of a tale - they wielded dual dirks with long thin blades with deadly efficiency. Every move spelled death, even as they blocked an attack with one hand, they were countering with the other. Their teamwork was flawless, each it them working in perfect sync with those around them.
It was as if they were watching the Kingsguard unleashed against unsuspecting peasants.
The battle was over almost as soon as it began. Within minutes, men were throwing down their arms and surrendering. It was too late for most of them, Ned saw, realizing that the men of House Crowl had been cut down to half of their number. Blood flowed, dripping off the edge of the land bridge like rain. It was only then that Ned realized that the unicorn cavalrymen had never made it up the side of the crevice. More men had been waiting for them at the bottom.
A flawless victory, Ned realized as he approached, feeling… unnerved by how utter the victory was. The trap has been laid perfectly, every move was anticipated, and Paul's warriors were ferocious killers all. Not so peerless that he couldn't imagine himself winning against any of them in a duel, but he knew it would likely be the hardest fight of his life.
"My apologies, my lord. I anticipated stiffer resistance. It was not my intention to mislead you," Paul said, greeting them with a bow of his head while his men expertly took those that surrendered prisoner. Others looted the bodies of their arms and armor, along with whatever trinkets they might possess. It looked very practiced to Ned's eyes.
Robert barked a laugh while Ned found his words. His gaze drifted down to Hjalti, who was taken prisoner and thrown to Ned's feet. The older man looked up to Ned, his gaze clear before he spat on Ned's boot.
"Get on with it," he said, making Ned close his eyes for just a moment. Defiant, even in death.
So, Ned drew his greatsword and held it aloft. "I, Eddard Stark, of House Stark, find you guilty of sedition against your liege lord, Rickard Stark. For your defiance and raising arms against House Stark, I sentence you to die. Do you have any last words, my Lord?"
"Just make the cut clean," Hjalti said, offering his neck.
Ned obliged him.
...
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A Golden Path by Ideas-Guy
Dune & A Song of Ice and Fire Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure & Drama, Paul A., Eddard S./Ned, Words: 172k+, Favs: 2k+, Follows: 2k+, Published: Jun 17, 2024 Updated: Aug 24
882Chapter 9: First Steps 1-9
Ned soon found that he had underestimated the harshness of Skagos, as all his plans fell apart upon the discovery that he had beheaded the very last of the Crowl bloodline, something he could scarce believe even now. The North was by far the harshest of the Seven Kingdoms, but even those Northern Houses with few branches had cousins. Even as sparse as the Stark bloodline had become, as his father was an only child, he still had cousins that could take the Stark name if the need arose.
But that wasn't the case for House Crowl. Haljiti had been an only child, as had his father before him. His children were dead, killed by winter and hunger. There were those that carried traces of House Crowl blood, but they were at best third or fourth cousins. By the laws of inheritance, they didn't qualify as candidates to inherit. Haljiti didn't even have bastards that could take his name.
It hadn't been his intention, which made the letter of praise coming from his father feel utterly undeserved. He intended for a more slow decline for House Crowl. Enough that he could say that he obeyed his father's orders in spirit, but not enough that the action felt unjust. His father informed him that he had already commissioned a song - The Hour of the Wolf. Inspired by Tywin Lannister's own Rains of Castamere, Ned suspected.
He hadn't the heart to listen to it, but from what Robert said to him, it was a rather catchy tune.
The aftermath of the slaughter was predictable. With no one left to inherit, and given the nature of the dispute, the lands that had once belonged to House Crowl now belonged to House Atreides. Much to the chagrin of the Skagos lords. They had sought to expand their own lands, and the presence of an outsider was… less than welcomed.
To that end, the result was predictable as well. His father commanded him to remain in Skagos until the dispute had settled. Or, in the far more likely case, until House Atreides was secure enough in their position that even if the Skagosi Lords did take action against the new lord, that he could endure their scorn.
Naturally, the whole thing was a farce, as his father had given him another task and he frankly wasn't sure he was up to it.
Steal the trade secrets of House Atreides.
He truly wondered what exactly his father thought Lord Arryn had taught him during his fosterage. The message came with an assurance - in the end, House Atreides was a vassal. Paul had been warned of the consequences of anything happening to Ned during his stay as overseer. As such, Ned had protection that other spies didn't when they were committing acts of skullduggery. Still, he did feel like his father had chosen the wrong man for the job as Ned had no idea where he could even start.
To make matters worse, Robert and Elbert had said their farewells. That was to be expected- they never should have been on Skagos in the first place, so as much as he would have liked his friends to stay, he knew that wasn't possible. So, it was with a heavy heart that he prepared himself to say his farewells at the burgeoning docks.
"Do you think you'll come back to the Eyrie?" Robert questioned as they stood on the shore, watching as the ship was being loaded. It would take them to the Wall, and from there they would make a long trek back to Winterfell, simply because Robert seemed physically ill at the thought of riding on a ship for more than a few hours.
"I don't know," Ned admitted. Both of them were already old enough to end their fosterage, and in fact, it was more unusual that they had been fostered for so long. Now, he would spend months in Skagos. A year, at most. By that time, he'd be seventeen. A fully grown man expected to have a wife and a child. "Likely not, I think."
Robert didn't seem surprised, though a large sigh heaved out of him. "My father has wanted me back home in the Stormlands for the past year or two," he admitted. "I was never sure why he kept letting me convince him to extend it by another year. He's more stubborn than me… but, if you're not there, then I don't suppose there's a point."
"What are you going to do back home?" Ned questioned, and it began to settle on him that they would be saying farewell for a long time. For years, most of his life really, Robert had been a constant companion. Both of them might go without seeing each other for a month or two at a time, but that was hardly so long in comparison to what they faced now - it could be years before they saw each other again. If they ever did. Ned couldn't imagine he would have many reasons to venture South, nor Robert to venture North.
"Piss if I know," Robert admitted with a laugh. "By the time I get back, Father should be back from Essos. He'll have a better idea than me." He grimaced at the thought before he glanced at Ned. "You?"
"It depends on Paul, I imagine. I could be stuck here for years if this goes poorly." Ned sighed.
To that, Robert snorted. "I wouldn't plan on that. That vassal of yours is something else," he observed, scratching at his beard. "Fights like the Stranger is tellin' 'em where to stick those knives of his, and his retinue isn't that far off. That battle… that battle was perfect, Ned."
Robert pursed his lips in thought, his brow furrowing. "I've gone over it in my head a few dozen times now. I've got no head for numbers or letters, but you know I've always had a head for strategy. Ned, that battle was perfect. It's like that lout sent a letter ahead of time to tell Paul what he was going to do." That had stood out to Ned as well, and it was the highest praise that Ned had heard Robert offer to anyone. "I don't think I could have done any better, Ned. Fifty men dead in minutes, with nothing but scrapes and bruises on our side."
Then he looked around, as if he was concerned someone was going to overhear him. "This whole place feels like a fever dream. I didn't get what your Mermaid Lord was talking about, but I think I do now. This whole bloody thing should be a right fuckin' mess, and instead it's been clean. Not without problems, sure, but nothing that anyone with some brains in their head wouldn't expect."
"It's been an experience, that is true," Ned silently agreed. "Paul knew exactly what he was getting into when he decided on this place."
"Hmph. I'd say. Doesn't feel right leaving you behind in this place, but he seems to be on your side. Good thing too, because I wouldn't want to have him as an enemy." Robert gave a theatrical shiver at the thought. "I feel safer thinking that he's going to be stuck up at the ass end of the world - Sorry, Ned, but you know it's true."
"Your concern is well received, but unneeded. I can't say I rightly understand what goes on in his head, but there is a reason why Paul decided to become a vassal instead of sailing off to Essos to become a merchant prince." Ned reasoned. It felt strange to distrust someone when they hadn't given him reason to. Especially considering the order of his father - if anyone was unworthy of trust, it was himself. "Though, I'll be sure to send him your thoughts. He might give you a fright at the next tourney you find yourself in."
"Ha!" Robert laughed, "That'll be a fight for the bards - me and my warhammer hitting air as he flips around me. That was a good trick too. Never thought to go over a defensive line before." Then he shook his head, "Though, fat luck that happens. Odds are the next big tourney is going to be for Prince Rheagar's wedding. If his father can find a bride for him that is. By this point, he's scoured all of Essos."
Tourneys weren't a particular interest to him, but he was rather curious who Prince Rheagar's bride, and the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms, would be. In particular considering that when it was announced that King Aerys was looking to the East for a bride, there was a lot of discontent. Less so in the North, but plenty in the Eyrie. He imagined it would be similar in most of the Kingdoms.
"Hm. More likely it'll be for your own wedding, then." Ned reasoned, earning a snort from Robert.
"Aye, likely. Hopefully me lady wife won't mind little Mya," Robert said, scratching at his cheek. "That'll narrow down the list of brides to be. Hopefully, my father will pick out a pretty one. You'll come to the wedding, won't you? I'll come to yours." He offered like it was either of their decision. Or, in the likely case, he'd just steal away in the dead of night and travel to the North and expected Ned to do the same to the South.
"If I'm able. At the rate things are going, I'll never know what Father might want of me," Ned admitted with a sigh. It seemed like a dour note to end things on as a call went out from the ship, the last call before departure.
"Ask him to choose your own bride," Robert advised. "You're the second son, and you've been shoveling all the shit he's thrown your way. I'd say you've earned that right, Ned. You deserve more than an ugly shrew of a bride," Robert said, clapping him on the shoulder. There was a thought, but Ned knew he wasn't likely to follow up on it. The thought he could marry for love was a nice one, but he had no expectations that would be the case.
Like Brandon, he would marry for duty. As Lyanna likely would have to. Perhaps that would be enough to let Benjen have a chance of happiness.
"I'll be sure to tell him," Ned said, mostly placating.
Robert laughed, "No, you won't." He dismissed with a shake of his head, "But, with some luck the seed that I planted in your head will get you thinking about what you want out of life, Ned." That was oddly poetic of him, Ned thought, before he found himself in a rib cracking, back breaking, lung popping embrace from his friend.
Despite it all, he clapped Robert on the back. "Farewell, my friend. We'll see each other again, one day, I'm sure."
"Damn right we will, Ned," Robert said, dropping Ned back to the ground. Despite their parting, Robert wore a smile as he took off to the ship that had been just shy of leaving him behind.
Ned watched it go, sailing off to the Wall, and only when it vanished in the morning's mists did he let out a long sigh. It would be lonely without his friends, but there was plenty of work to be done and Ned wasn't fond of idle hands. So, he turned his back to the shore and headed back up the cliffside.
It was back at the home of House Atreides that he found a few familiar faces. In the weeks since their arrival, a labor camp had been established at the main entrance to the volcano. It was all nearly organized with the extra hands collected at the scattered villages coming to help build what would be the seat of House Atreides. He approached the foreman of the construction crew, making the man named Stilgar look up from hides that were covered in charcoal markings. Designs, Ned noted.
"Ah, the lord! Your friends have departed then, yes?" Stilgar questioned, casting him an idle glance. The man wasn't one for formality. Or proper respects. But, Ned figured that was simply his nature. Only fools found insults where none was intended.
"Aye, they have," Ned confirmed. "I'm not one to be idle, should you have use for me." Ned offered, making Stilgar smile.
"Good! Good! We thought you would sit on your arse all day like the other lords, but this is a nice surprise," Stilgar said, turning away just as Ned was starting to take some offense. "We are building a new seiche. Much like old one, but needs to be… pretty. Lordly. You can help with this?"
"I have no eye for interior design, but I suppose I've lived in more castles than most," Ned reasoned.
And, with that, he went to work.
…
He didn't really have much of a plan if he was being completely honest. He almost wished to ask some common thief how they would go about this business, but he wasn't so desperate to lower himself to that point. The best he managed to come up with was keeping his eyes and ears open as he found himself joining the laborers, often alongside Paul Atreides.
The project was completely unlike anything that Ned had ever participated in. He had never been officially taken as a squire but he knew the duties well. He had even participated in rebuilding a stable in the Eyrie as the heavy rains had rotted the wood. This… this was something very different. Unique.
The main entrance was carved away, the uneven and rough walls were smoothed and widened. The vast majority of the walls were made of dragonglass, and the chunks and pieces were then smashed up, ground into a fine powder, then added to a gray slurry that solidified itself into a blackish gray stone. The thickness of the liquid stone depended on the need - at what would be the front gate, they produced massive slabs to reinforce where the gate would be.
Within the hallway itself, it lined the floors to create an even walkway. The material itself was fascinating, as it acted as a purposefully shaped stone depending on the need. The ingredients of it were puzzling, but as he aided in making it, he learned how it was made even if he didn't fully understand why it worked.
It was as they delved deeper into the mountain that he understood Paul's meaning when he claimed magma tubes flowed throughout it and the area around it. The hall led to a central chamber, and the tubes went in just about every direction he could think of - down, up, to the sides, forward and backwards. They curved and bent, sometimes leading to other, smaller caverns, and other times they tampered off to a deadend. It almost felt like it was a maze, in a way.
But, what became most fascinating of all was how they harnessed the mountain. Much like Winterfell, once they reached the natural springs, they began to pipe the hot water throughout the mountain - not only ensuring that it would remain warm in the depths of winter, but granting access to easy hot water with only a twist of a knob in the bathing rooms. Paul had decided to use the readily available caverns for rooms, but that didn't stop him from carving out entirely new areas from the caverns that went nowhere.
Everything was tethered together with a maze of stairways that could carry you from the top of the mountain to the bottom. And, while the main entrance was the easiest way into the mountain, it was hardly the only one. There were areas that had collapsed partially once the magma had stopped flowing, the pressure it brought vanishing. In those areas, Ned found that Paul was cultivating with purpose.
Some, he turned into a balcony to gaze out at the lands below. Others, where the land around the entrance was more substantial, Paul proved his foresight and started construction of glass gardens over the area. Others he left bare, but from what he understood, a godswood would be planted. Ned suspected that Paul didn't have any faith in the Old Gods, but he approved of the gesture.
The labor was endless, but Ned found that he didn't really mind as the days turned into weeks. It would be at least a few years before all of Paul's initial goals for the mountain would be reached, and even that was incredibly fast, only possible because of his laborers. It would be a lifetime before the mountain was able to rival Casterly Rock, but Ned knew it in his bones, one day, they would be compared.
Though, it was hardly the only project that was being worked on. A village was swiftly placed around the beach that they had landed on, complete with a dockyard and a lighthouse made out of timber. It had seemed a bit needless at first, especially when Paul had all but uprooted several established settlements to force them all to build a large fishing village, but the reasoning became apparent after his first month in Skagos.
A ship arrived that carried news - Robert and Elbert had both returned to Winterfell and Whiteharbor without difficulty. It was a relief to hear and the start of an exchange of letters to the mainland. He gave news of his progress in Skagos while his father kept him informed of the events that felt like they were happening an entire world away. News of how things were developing in Whiteharbor - how word had finally begun to spread across the South and Essos that it was the North that had produced such fine goods.
How there seemed to be some trouble on the horizon, but a letter from his father and a particularly extravagant gift by House Atreides had smoothed things over. Or, at least, so said his father. The names and numbers that his father spoke of didn't mean much to Ned, but he did know that now that word had spread, there would be a sharp uptick of interest in the North.
It was shameful to admit, but he found the letters of his siblings of greater interest. Even if it was largely Brandon grousing about his impending marriage. Or Lyanna complaining about Brandon grousing about his impending marriage. Or Benjen not really knowing what he should put into the letters, so he put a little bit of everything loosely strung together with his rambling thoughts.
He replied, of course. Detailing the stiff and terse meetings he had with the other Skagosi Lords to his father. Offering his condolences to both Lyanna and Brandon. Sharing whatever he thought would interest Benjen.
After the first month of his stay, things began to settle. But only for a short time. The construction never ceased, but the nature of it started to change with the arrival of ships. At the start, it was only the ship that Robert and Elbert had used to return home that came and went. It sailed between the port and Whiteharbor, delivering trade goods to be sold there, which would then be resold. Ned had assumed that the port on Skagos was simply too treacherous and distant to sail to for other merchants, but he was proven wrong as the weeks passed.
They were few, but tradeships from Essos and from Kingdoms such as the Eyrie, Riverlands, Stormlands, and even one from Dorne began to arrive. Bypassing Whiteharbor for cheaper prices on an increasingly large swath of trade goods to choose from.
As the demand increased, Paul met it proactively, and Ned started to see the larger web of connections. The old Crowl castle was converted into a port town, only it traded with the wildlings beyond the Wall. Resources that couldn't be found on Skagos in any significant amount, such as timber, was imported from beyond the Wall, sent to the Crowl castle, then to the castle of House Atreides. At the start, the completed products that the merchants were here to purchase were imported from wherever Paul had lived beyond the Wall, but as demand increased, that arrangement was no longer practical.
Which led to Paul bringing over the production process to his new home as the facilities were finally readied for them.
He would like to say that was a great breakthrough in his task, but the truth of the matter was that he barely understood anything even in the few times he got to see the creation. While he marveled watching the glassworkers shape a bright orange glob of molten glass, it was a far cry from understanding why each step was taken in the process. To say nothing of the material used in the creation.
So, he was content to learn slowly. As he did, a third month passed, then a fourth, and then a fifth. Progress on his mission was infrequent, but not so slow that he felt frustrated. He had prepared himself for a year, after all, and it hadn't even been half of that. Once more things settled into a routine and, once more, that routine was disrupted.
"There's been a development," Paul informed him as Ned rested on a crate. He looked up to see Paul approaching, holding a letter aloft. Instantly, Ned's gaze went to the royal seal impressed on the red was - a three headed dragon. "A wife has been found for Prince Rhaegar in Volantis. They'll be married in three month's time."
Ned accepted the letter, reading the looping letters. The purpose of the letter was made plain in the first sentence. "You have been invited to the royal wedding?" He questioned before he swallowed a wince, "Forgive my discourtesy, but I find the news surprising, Lord Atreides. It is a high honor you have been given." Wedding invitations were a complicated affair.
Some people had to be invited, as excluding them would be an insult of the highest order. For the royal family, that list included the Lords of Kingdoms and the Lord Paramounts. Other Houses could expect an invitation if they were old and powerful enough, but there was a large difference in sending an invitation to House Royce and a Lord of the Fingers. The North, in particular, rarely received invitations at all and when they did, it was even rarer that they accepted.
A new House on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms getting an invitation to a royal wedding? That was quite unusual.
"No offense was given, Lord Eddard. In fact, I myself am quite surprised at the invitation," he replied, his voice decidedly even. That would be a first, Ned thought to himself. Every step of the way, from their arrival until now, it always felt as if Paul knew exactly what he needed to do.
In a way, it was part of the reason why he felt no closer to the man despite sharing meals with him for nearly half a year. When you spoke with him, it was as if Paul already knew what you were going to say, and was merely waiting for you to say it so he could reply. It was an… uncomfortable feeling.
At this point, Ned found himself surprised that Paul could be surprised.
"You intend to accept, then?" Ned questioned, wondering what this meant for him.
"I don't believe I am in a position to do otherwise, if I may be honest," Paul admitted, a small hum of irritation in his tone. "I have already written to your father informing him of the development. Ultimately, I will heed whatever advice that he shall give, but I will prepare for the journey. The wedding shall be held in King's Landing, the occasion marked with a grand tourney."
Likely half the Seven Kingdoms would be in King's Landing then. Grand Tourneys were rare affairs. The kind that attracted the noblest of knights to the lowest of hedge knights.
"However, the whole affair does raise a question of what shall be done with you, Lord Eddard. I understand that your father has given you your own tasks-"
If he was a better liar, Ned reasoned that the words wouldn't have gotten the reaction that they did out of him. Every muscle went taunt, as if he were about to spring into action. Paul, almost insultingly, seemed amused by his reaction at the unspoken accusation. "Peace, Lord Eddard."
He knew. How long? How long had he known-
"What I meant, however, was the task of reigning in the other Skagosi Lords," Paul continued, a hint of a smile curling at the edges of his lips.
"Ah…" Ned uttered, a scarlet flush creeping up his neck as he realized that even if he hadn't known, Ned would have just given himself away. "I-I see. My apologies."
"There is no need. Though, if you don't mind me saying, you don't make for a very good spy." Paul noted and Ned's shoulders sagged.
"I shall thank you for the compliment," Ned replied, equal parts mortified and relieved. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. "Please, do not think ill of my father for this-" he started, going to make some excuse. None could honestly excuse this level of duplicity, but he owed it to his family to at least try.
"Your father's actions befit that of a Lord. He'd have to be a fool to not try to learn my trade secrets, and your father is no fool," Paul replied, his tone seemingly genuine. "He is not the first, nor shall he be the last."
That was almost too good to be true, Ned thought, even as he was relieved. And that was what made it so hard to deal with Paul. Ned genuinely had no idea what was going on in his head. "You… are too kind, Lord Atreides."
"I am not," Paul refuted easily, as if it were a fact. "I merely understand your father. He reminds me a bit of my own, Leto Atreides. I can empathize with his position." The words felt like an admission to Ned's ears, though he wasn't sure what exactly he was admitting to. Or what it meant. "What your father wants is security. He feels like I have leverage over him, and he fears how I could use it against him."
That was exactly right. Almost word for word, Ned realized. "I… yes. You are largely correct," Ned confessed. It felt like he should be making excuses. Or denying every word. But, at the same time, to do so felt shameful and undeserved. Not to mention pointless.
Paul nodded, simply confirming what he already knew. "I cannot simply give you my House's trade secrets, I hope you understand. Not without cost." That, to Ned's ears, sounded reasonable. It was not House Atreides that was in the wrong in this situation. "However, I can give your father peace of mind, if it is within my abilities."
Ned paused, glancing down at the letter to buy him a moment of thought and took a step back to look at the situation as a whole. It was an ugly picture for House Stark, he could admit. His House showed a shameful side of itself and, worse, he had been the face of it.
Yet, Paul had acted graciously. Almost to the point of being too gracious, but Ned found it increasingly difficult to be suspicious when he himself was the one deserving of suspicion. If Paul had known from the very beginning…
A small sigh escaped Ned, feeling as if he had been far too harsh on the young lord. "You really are too kind, Lord Atreides." He repeated, meaning it this time. The whole interaction had revealed a glimmer of Paul's character to Ned.
"No, I'm really not," Paul repeated in the same tone. "Shall you attend the royal wedding with me, then?"
Ned already knew his answer. "If you would welcome my company, it would be my honor."
Paul was a strange man, Ned concluded, but he was convinced he was a good one.
...
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A Golden Path by Ideas-Guy
Dune & A Song of Ice and Fire Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure & Drama, Paul A., Eddard S./Ned, Words: 172k+, Favs: 2k+, Follows: 2k+, Published: Jun 17, 2024 Updated: Aug 24
882Chapter 10: Foundation 2-1
Rhaegar Targaryen was possessed by a nervous energy. It had possessed him since Steffon Baratheon claimed to have found a valyrian bride of worthy stock some months ago in Volantis. As a result, the situation was… less than ideal.
"I should have been married within the Seven Kingdoms," Rhaegar uttered, a finger tapping at a table while he pinched a goblet of wine with white knuckles. He only dared to utter the words out loud in the presence of a few people, and only in locations that he knew he would not be overheard. The godswood was one such place - too out in the open for clever spies to overhear without exposing themselves, and it was rarely visited.
His mother sat across from him, dressed in the finest of silks, wearing jewelry that was worthy of a queen. There was a time that such things would look natural upon her. Unworthy, almost. Rhaella Targaryen possessed the fine valyrian beauty that their house was renowned for, and yet…
Yet his mother looked haggard and exhausted. Cosmetics hid most of the evidence - the dark bags that hung beneath her eyes, her cheeks sinking in as she had been eating less. His father was degrading, and like an anchor, he was dragging his mother down with him.
She tried to hide the evidence from him, and to spare her the shame, Rheagar pretended not to notice that she wore high-collar dresses in the height of summer.
Yet, she still possessed that same noble bearing, simply reaching out and stilling his hand as she gazed at him with sharp violet eyes, "It would have been better for our house, yes." She agreed, and the nervous energy bled out of him at the agreement. The reassurance that he wasn't going mad. "It would have been best if Steffon found no one in Volantis, but that isn't what happened. He did find someone, and the sooner you stop teetering over what could have beens, the better prepared you'll be to handle your promised bride."
Rheagar did what he could to lean on Steffon, leveraging his position as heir to find no one of worthy status in Essos. Rheagar almost cursed the man for only having sons because his father was likely to approve of a match inside the Kingdoms then. "It would help if I actually knew anything about my betrothed, mother," Rheagar said, taking a short tone that he regretted. Then, softer, he continued, "I only know her name."
Aenessa. Anessa Valis. That was the name of his intended. He thought he might be able to conjure a face with the name, but her face was nondescript in his mind. Steffon's letters gave him a handful of descriptors, but they were all equally worthless - fine valyrian features, silver hair, violet eyes. Beauty had its uses, especially as Queen, but it told him precious little about the woman herself. The one who would bare him the three heads of the dragon.
Would she be an ally? Would she be an enemy? Would she help him in his endeavors to further unify the Seven Kingdoms, or did she possess petty ambitions that would resist the natural compromises that he would have to make to save the world.
"Volantis guards its valyrian stock jealously, Rheagar," her mother noted, bringing a goblet of wine to her lips. "By their standards, our own blood is too diluted to be recognized."
"Yet, she's coming to the Seven Kingdoms," Rhaegar pointed out.
"Precisely," Rhaella agreed. "I know little of Essos, but I can't imagine that the politics there is much different than it is here in Westeros. There will always be those at the top, and those at the bottom… and those that fall so others may rise."
Rhaegar's lips thinned, "Is that what it is, then? Her house falls from grace and the Seven Kingdoms is a consolation prize?"
"Not in so many words, but you're largely correct, I suspect," his mother answered. "The story is a simple one. One that Tywin is dooming himself to repeat - the previous leader of house Valis ruled the family with an iron fist. Powerful and daring. One of the few Tiger faction families within the city. She made enemies, but none dared to strike while she drew breath."
Rhaegar knew the story well, "But she didn't live forever."
"No, she didn't," his mother agreed. "Like vultures, they began to circle. I imagine they must have found purchase given that Aenessa saw fit to abandon Volantis entirely." It was a tale that resonated with Rheagar. Something he found that he could understand a little too well.
So much of his family's power was connected to dragons. As dragon riders, a single one of them with a dragon aged more than a hundred years was worth all the armies the Seven Kingdoms could field. No castle could endure the wrath of a dragon. Fear kept the noble families in line. That, and their own self interest to climb to the top of the squabbling pile of nobles.
But as Tywin Lannister was so aptly proving, it was not a situation that would endure forever.
If the enemies of House Targaryen united enforce for the sole purpose of tearing them down… if they showed too much weakness…
"Now they come here," Rheagar said, swallowing another sigh. The tale might resonate with him, but there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that it would be best if the ship never arrived at port. "I never expected to marry for love, but I did think I would at least have a say in who would be my Queen."
His mother offered him a humorless smile, "Your father didn't. Neither did I." The words were without bitterness, but Rheagar knew that was for his sake. "Your father is convinced that the foreign blood in our veins is to blame for the death of our dragons. Why the rituals to restore them fail. We are impure and we must be purified," she said, a hand falling to her wrist to pull down her sleeve an extra inch.
Rhaegar swallowed a lump in his throat, knowing what lay underneath. A cold bitter anger settled in his heart, one he kept at bay with practiced ease. However, before he could reply, Arthur stepped into view, a warning that someone approached. Both he and his mother stilled, looking to the path through the godswood to see a servant approaching.
"My Queen, my Prince," He greeted them both with a bow before his gaze flickered to his mother. "The King has requested his Queen's presence pertaining to the royal wedding." Rheagar fought off a scowl, but it was a close victory when he saw his mother's expression tightened. An excuse was on his lips, but he was silenced when his mother gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Then escort me to my husband," Queen Rhaella commanded, standing up. She favored him a lingering glance before walking away and Rheagar watched her go mournfully. She quickly disappeared down the path and only then did a crack in his facade appear in the form of a long sigh that escaped him.
Powerless. He was Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, one of the most powerful and influential men in the Kingdoms, and yet before his father, he was still the same untrained boy. Any action was met with scorn, inaction was treated with suspicion - the worse his father became, the riskier it was to challenge him on anything. More than once his father threatened him with the black cells, and Rheagar suspected that he would die within them if he ever pushed his father so far.
"Damn him," Rheagar uttered softly under his breath, not even daring to say the words above a whisper.
"It is not safe to say such things, my Prince. Not even here," Arthur admonished him all the same, as he was right to. Unfortunately, he was right. There was nowhere safe in King's Landing.
Rhaegar inclined his head to his friend before he set his goblet of untouched wine down. Standing, he left the godswood with Arthur right behind him as a second shadow. As much as it was his nature to dwell, he had no time to linger with his thoughts. "Has the invitation been accepted?" Rheagar asked as they walked, not needing to specify.
There was only one name on the list that Rheagar ensured was extended an invitation.
"It has, my Prince. He will join the Northern party. They've already likely begun their travels if they are to arrive on time," Arthur answered and that released a knot of worry between his shoulders. If only he could do something about the dozen others.
"It can't be a coincidence," Rheagar uttered, and not for the first time. Nor did he need to turn around to see the look of concern Arthur aimed at his back as they made their way through the halls of the castle. "Whoever Paul Atreides is… he is…" Rheagar wasn't certain how to finish the thought. Nor was he sure that he should.
The visions that plagued his dreams had always been infrequent. At times, he went years without receiving one, and sometimes, he could have two or three in as many days. He always kept careful notes, exploring his visions from all angles to find a path forward. However, in the past few months alone, he had received enough visions of the future - enough warnings of what was to come - to fill up his journal.
So many of them seemed centered around a man with burning blue eyes.
At first, he was just a face without a name but as he sent agents, men loyal to him, to the Wall to inspect what transpired there… a wildling of the name Muad'Dib seemed a likely candidate. Information was scarce about the man. However, as time went by, Rheagar became convinced the man in his visions was another. Largely because of the timing.
Most lords had little interest in the North, seeing it as a frigid wasteland with barely civilized barbarians. And, perhaps, there was some truth in that view. However, as it would one day serve as the battlefield for the dead and the living, the northern most kingdom had his full attention. It was for that reason Rheagar had learned of the developments in the North first.
Simply because no one expected such fine trade goods to come from the North, it was the very last place many had looked.
His visions showed a blue eyed man bribing an old wolf with gifts of gold and knowledge. Them working alongside a direwolf, raising a mountain into a castle. An unassailable fortress in the far corner of the world. The timing was too perfect to not be the Stark's newest vassal, House Atreides. As was the suspicious timing of notable trade goods coming from the North.
The man in his dreams was Paul Atreides. He had to be. If he wasn't, then…
Then what else could he be wrong about?
…
The preparations for the royal wedding were extravagant. Lavish to the point of absurdity. A feast that would last for no less than a month, with each day of it possessing eighteen courses of decadent food - turkey stuffed with duck stuffed which was stuffed with chicken which was stuffed pigeon which was stuffed with quail. All served with a wide assortment of other equally decadent and ludicrous dishes, each prepared by the greatest chiefs in the Seven Kingdoms.
As Arthur put it - the kitchens were a battleground equal to any see in the War of Tenpenny Kings.
While that alone would ensure that the royal wedding would be remembered for a generation, it was combined with the largest tourney seen since before the Dance of the Dragons. The main attractions, such as the joust, melee, and archery were joined by many other competitions. From individual duels to wrestling, to poetry, to cyvasse, to horse races, to foot races, javelin throwing, riddle solving, and more. Each event awarding prizes for the top three winners depending on the scale of the event.
Something such as the joust would award fifty thousand gold dragons for first place while something such as riddle solving would 'only' award first place with a thousand gold dragons. But, while the events were numerous as they were varied, what made it the grandest tourney in living memory was the sheer scale of it as there was not only a division for the trained knights, but for their squires as well. In some, even the smallfolk could participate.
In between both, they were linked with plays and circuses and performative singers. It was an affair months in the making. A massive expenditure of the royal treasury, but it was one of the few times that Rheagar found himself in agreement with his father - the royal wedding and grand tourney was exactly what they needed. A way to project their power upon the lords of the realm. To make the tens of thousands that would come from across the Seven Kingdoms bear witness to the splendor of the House of the Dragon.
Yet, they weren't the only ones putting on a show.
From the Red Keep, Rheagar gazed out towards the dock where a small fleet of ships were docked, watching them be greeted with a growing crowd - many of them coming far and wide to King's Landing in preparation for the celebrations, and now…
Now they gathered to meet their future queen.
"I should be down there," Rheagar muttered to himself, his gloved hands curling around the railing.
"I think not, my Prince," Jon Connignton replied dutifully. "They're here to project strength, even as they arrive in what amounts to exile."
He was correct there - each of the ships were larger than any Rheagar had ever seen coming to or from King's Landing before, and inside each ship was… extravagance.
From where he stood, he saw the moment his promised bride entered the city. A massive creature - an elephant, Rheagar suspected, stepped down the planks of the ship with his bride seated on top. A pavilion was arranged on top of it, the large gray creature was covered in a colorful tapestry while its long tusks were engraved with gold and jewels.
Aenessa Valis strode through the city as if it already belonged to her, the way cleared by a small army of unsullied. Her elephant was the largest at a towering fifteen feet tall, making the other elephants that trailed in her wake seem almost small in comparison. Following them were a menagerie of beasts that Rheagar had read of but never seen with his own eyes - lions, tigers, cheetahs, and others.
"She knows how to make an impression," Rheagar admitted as he pulled back from the balcony, knowing that he needed to be in the throne room to greet his bride. To meet her for the first time.
"... yes, she does," Jon agreed with him a tightness in his voice that betrayed his apprehension. Rheagar felt much the same. Most men hoped for a beautiful wife, but what Rheagar needed was a driven one. One who would support his efforts from the shadows, just as his mother did to his unworthy father - not out of love or even like, but out of duty to her children to secure their future.
Pulling away, he glanced at both Jon and Arthur, checking their expressions. Both of them schooled theirs, their thoughts becoming unreadable. With a small nod, he began to move and they followed. It wasn't particularly far from the throne room, but it felt much longer as he approached it. A pair of servants opened the doors for him, and he saw those that his bride's retinue.
There were rows of people lined up by importance before the Iron Throne - of which there were only a true handful worth noting.
Robert Baratheon was difficult to miss. His cousin, though no one would guess as much by looking between them. While Rheagar knew he favored the slim build that most Targaryen's favored, Robert was built like an ox with a mane of black hair and a neatly trimmed beard clinging to his cheeks. He was dressed in his house colors - black and yellow, wearing them proudly as he awaited to be reunited with his father after a long absence. That, and the tourney, he suspected.
Alongside him was Tywin Lannister. His expression gave nothing away, but he radiated a silent menacing displeasure. It stood in contrast to his son, who joined him at his side along with his daughter. Jaime and Cersei Lannister. Twins, and while one was a young man and the other a young woman, there was a strong resemblance between them. Cersei's gaze watched him while her brother only had eyes for Arthur - the Sword in the Morning.
Rhaegar made a note to himself to introduce the two. Jamie, by all accounts, was a talented knight and it would be best to start fostering a relationship early. If he had the right temperament, then perhaps Tywin could be removed from the board earlier than Rheagar hoped.
But, it was the man beyond them that held Rheagar's attention. The man seated upon a monstrous pile of blackened swords half melted together - the Iron Throne. It was hideous, but it was imposing. Those that saw it never forgot it.
"Why are you here?" Aerys Targaryen asked, seated upon the throne and… he almost looked as he did. As he did in Rheagar's memories. Before Duskendale.
His raven-like talons for nails were cut back to form. His wild untamed beard was trimmed, as was his hair. A golden crown sat upon his brow, in one hand he rested on the arm of the Iron Throne but in the other, he cradled the skull of the last dragon. A skull of black bone that was no larger than that of a cat's.
He almost looked like a picture of a king. Almost.
His sunken in violet eyes were filled with venom and suspicion as he gazed upon Rheagar, as if he were the vilest of snakes that had just slithered into the room. The rough edges of his appearance were smoothed away, but that was all. He was still the same man.
"To meet my betrothed," Rheagar answered simply, making his father's lips curl. For a moment, Rheagar feared his father might cause a scene. Something the could scarcely before so many lords. He might have if it wasn't for his mother, who stood on the steps before the throne. She wordlessly reached out, placing a hand on Aerys' and giving it a small squeeze.
The sight of it made Rheagar's stomach twist, but his father answered him with a curt nod. Accepting that he did, in fact, have a right to be here. Both as the groom, and as the crowned prince.
The suspicion was something Rheagar was getting used to. It didn't even sting that the Kingsguard were placed behind Rheagar, placing themselves between their King and Prince. He ignored it, simply gazing out towards the doors that his betrothed would enter from, lightly resting a hand on the sword at his belt.
Appearances mattered for men as much as they did women. Something he was keenly aware of the further his father slipped into madness and as more and more people looked to Tywin Lannister to solve their problems rather than the king. As such, Rheagar made sure he looked his best for their first meeting.
He wasn't waiting overly long for her arrival. A choir of young boys began to sing as the doors swung open once more, allowing for them to enter.
At the fore of the party were two people - siblings with valyrian features. And, for a moment, Rheagar wasn't entirely sure who his bride was. Both of them were beautiful, wearing the traditional robes of essosian nobility of purple in patterned demasic. The only way he was able to tell which was the brother from the sister was Lucerys wore his silver white hair in a manner much his own - swept back and just long enough to brush the nape of his neck.
Leaving the woman standing next to him his bride.
Their eyes met after a brief pause as her party approached the Iron Throne, and Rheagar found mirth in her dark gaze. It would seem his momentary confusion wasn't missed. Nor exactly the impression that he wanted to give, but Rheagar found that he had little say in the matter. Lucerys was androgynous with not so much as a hair upon his jaw. Not so much as clean shaven as Rheagar was, but more lacking a beard entirely despite being a similar age.
The singing came to a stop as his bride, her brother, and their retinue came to a stop before the Iron Throne. A herald then stepped forth and shouted out, "Presenting to King Aerys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I introduce Aenessa Valis, head of House Valis, of the seventy-two unbroken bloodlines to the Valaryian empire."
As the herald spoke, Aenessa took a step forward before raising her skirts in a curtsy, "I, Aenessa Valis, extend greetings to House Targaryen, Dragon Lords of Old Valyria. It is my hope that this union of blood between myself and Prince Rheagar, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, shall further preserve our people's greatest legacy." She spoke calmly, her tone carrying a hint of confidence.
From where Rheagar stood, he saw a number of tightened expressions, though most did their best to hide their true thoughts. His father, however, was not one of them. He made no effort to adopt a royal and noble bearing, instead choosing to grin like a young boy who had been given a pocket full of sweets. "We, of House Targaryen, receive you with open arms and open hearts! Let our houses be joined and begin a new era for us both, and the Seven Kingdoms!"
There was applause at the proclamation that almost seemed genuine if one didn't know any better. Unfortunately, Rheagar did.
Hiding his thoughts from all, he put on a faint grin as he shared a look with his betrothed. She met his gaze evenly, taking the measure of him just as much as he was of her. Yet, there were no words shared between them as the introductions were made. At least not then as the party was relieved with all honors with a promised feast to act as a prelude to the celebrations to come.
Yet, Rheagar saw an opening and stepped forward. Aenessa tilted her head ever so slightly at his approach but seemed open to it. "It would be an honor to escort you to your rooms," Rheagar offered.
As it was, the only time they would find a private moment to speak would be the bedding a full month from now. Likely not even then given that spies would make sure that the marriage was consummated. They wouldn't have a private moment until then, but this would be their first opportunity to… speak. To take a more accurate measure of each other.
"It would please me, my prince," Aenessa agreed easily, accepting the offered arm. Rheagar took note of those who joined them - Lucerys was obvious, as were the guards, but there was an unexpected man joining them.
Rheagar found that he knew nothing of the man. Meaning that he had been beneath his notice. No lord or rich merchant was attached to their retinue. Yet, all the same, he joined rather high company as Rheagar led them out of the throne room, pretending he wasn't aware of everyone's eyes following them. Two in particular watched Rheagar like a hawk from his perch on the Iron Throne.
"I must say, I didn't expect to be escorted by a prince. Delighted, but unexpected," Aenessa noted as they stepped into a hallway, also aware of the gazes that followed them. Her brother fell back, standing with Arthur who dutifully followed with that man lagging behind them. "My betrothed is a bold man."
"I thought I might have to be, Lady Valis. In the coming days, I suspect we shall see a great deal of each other, but find that we rarely have a chance to have a… private conversation," Rheagar replied.
"That does seem quite likely," Aenessa agreed. "I take it that you trust your… kingsguard, was it?"
"Ser Arthur? With everything," Rheagar admitted honestly, making Aenessa favor him with a glance from the corner of her eye.
"The Sword of the Morning?" She ventured, making an effort to sound as if she hadn't already known. "Your legend has reached far and wide, Ser Arthur. Even within the black walls of Volantis we have heard tales of the few chosen wielders of Dawn. You must be pleased." A prodding remark, taking his measure as much as she was him.
"It pleases me to be of service to my King and Prince," Arthur replied flatly, and Aenessa's lips twitched. She approved, evidently.
Reaching out, she patted the arm that her own was looped around. "Don't think yourself to be any less distinguished, my Prince. Tales of your skills with a harp and sending flocks of pure hearted maidens to tears with a sad song is every bit as famed."
"That is less of a testament to my skill and more of my penchant for melancholic songs," Rheagar replied, giving her a humble smile. He was starting get a feel for the woman that would soon be his bride and queen.
She wasn't displeasing. She seemed clever enough. Aware and attentive. She had a charm to her and could carry a conversation. It wasn't exactly a high bar that Rheagar had set, but she was a far cry from his worst fears.
Yet…
Aenessa didn't strike him as a woman who was fleeing from Volantis, else her house would be destroyed.
"I think I would have to hear you playing myself to make a judgment there," Aenessa replied, her tone light and flirtatious. "In the gardens perhaps?"
"It would be my pleasure, Lady Valis," Rheagar replied, spying their destination that arrived all too swiftly.
"Please, call me Aenessa. We are to be King and Queen, after all," Aenessa said, coming to a stop at the door. She knew where her quarters were beforehand. It wouldn't be unexpected for a lord or lady of the Seven Kingdoms, but for a foreigner… it was something to take note of.
"Aenessa," Rheagar said, feeling the name out. "In that case, please call me Rheagar."
"Rheagar," Aenessa did the same, offering him a dazzling smile. "I hope for another opportunity to speak during the feast."
"As do I," Rheagar agreed, offering a courteous bow before stepping back to allow Aenessa into her chambers. Her touch lingered ever so slightly, but she stepped inside and was followed by her brother. Rheagar offered him an apologetic look, but he smiled at him.
"It's quite alright," Lucerys said, "I would hope you're far more interested in my sister than myself." Rheagar wasn't entirely certain what to make of the remark, so he simply inclined his head as he and Arthur departed. Yet, not without taking another lingering look at Lucerys.
He was as beardless as a boy.
Rhaegar waited until they were down the hall to speak, "Who was that man that joined us?"
"I don't know, my Prince. He didn't strike me as a servant. I shall find out," Arthur said and Rheagar nodded. It was likely nothing, but it could be something and that made it worthy of his attention. "Your thoughts on your betrothed, my prince?"
Rhaegar continued forward, lulling the question over for a moment before he spoke.
"I don't trust that woman in the slightest."
...
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