OSWELL
Queen Rhaella's skirts danced about with every step she took, a violet flame dancing. The Lords Velaryon, Tyrell, Karstark, and Harlaw bowed respectfully as she entered. She greeted each in turn, spoke a quiet word with a Dornishmen in attendance, and seated herself at the head of the painted table, between Tyrell and Velaryon.
Oswell had claimed the seat right where Casterly Rock lay on the table so that he could gaze at everyone else. Karstark seemed to think it his obligation to sit towards the North, looking as grim as the land he called home. Rodrik Harlaw sat by the place that was carved to resemble Oldtown, admiring the detail in the wood whilst the strange Dornishman sat as far away from the others as he could. An odd collection, Oswell thought, and for some reason I am included in their ranks.
The Queen looked every bit the dragon she was, dressed in the finest silks and jewels Oswell had ever seen, her silver-gold hair tied back into a braid that hung over her shoulder. Visenya Targaryen come again.Oswell thought she even looked younger as well.
"My lords," Rhaella greeted. "I thank you all for coming and I know that it is an unusual request, but I know with certainty that those sitting at this table are true servants of the Realm."
There was a cluck of agreement from the lords, and the Queen's purple eyes seemed to shine. The Dornishman however, remained dead silent. Oswell could not put a name to his face, nor did the man's clothing give away anything either. He was not dressed in any of the popular Dornish fashions that currently pervaded the land, yet his clothing was of a certain quality that assured all of his status as a nobleman of some kind. What are you doing here stranger?
The Queen gestured to Monford Velaryon. "Velaryon and Targaryen have been staunch friends going back since before the Doom, your attendance here is most comforting." The lord of Driftmark gave a modest smile at the queen's praise. Oswell was certain that if the man had a tail that it would be wagging.
Her attention turned to Mace Tyrell. "My lord of Highgarden, it is with your bountiful land that the realm is fed, and your loyalty to the crown during the rebellion has not been forgotten."
The fat oaf sat around trying to starve out Stannis Baratheon when he should have been bolstering Rhaegar's forces on the Trident, thought Oswell, with more than a touch of bitterness.
"Lord Karstark," she made the grizzled man's name sound like a song. "You chose to fight against my husband, your rightful king. By most that would be judged as an act of treason, yet I know better than anyone that my husband was a madman and that the slaying of Lord Stark and his son was unjust. You made a decision that you believed was for the greater good of the realm, I hope you can be trusted to do so again."
Rickard Karstark looked like a half-starved, half-mad dog that had been kicked one too many times by its owner. His beard, which was once a dark brown, was now mostly overtaken with grey and hung about his face messily. He looked wild, and utterly out of place in the presence of a Queen of Westeros, yet his eyes seemed to soften as he looked over at Rhaella. "Aye, Your Grace, aye."
Queen Rhaella's purple eyes found Rodrick Harlow, yet he did not meet her gaze. In fact the Iron Islander was busy examining the painted table which they sat. He seemed to feel the others gazing upon him and looked up in embarrassment. Oswell was taken aback by the man. Growing up in Harrenhall he had been told countless tales of the Ironborn warriors raping and burning the Riverlands under Harren the Black, yet the man sitting across from him could not be more different. He looks more like a Maester than a warrior….
There was a brief flicker across the bookish man's face and suddenly he seemed to harden slightly, giving off an air of authority. "My queen," he said in a firm voice. "I must admit that while I've been incredibly flattered to be invited here to your family's ancestral seat and be part of such fine company, I am not entirely sure I understand it." With one hand he gestured to Tyrell and with the other Karstark. "Neither myself, or any of my fellow Iron Islanders took part in the Rebellion, and concern for the realm….well, that has never been a trait we have been known for."
"I'm hoping you can help me change that," said Rhaella with a knowing smile. She turned to the others. "All of us…we can make a difference. A storm is coming and we need to be prepared for it or else it could be our children that suffer."
Mace Tyrell frowned. "What do you mean, My Lady?"
Rhaella pursed her lips and for the first time since King Aerys died, she looked uncertain. "Rhaegar," she breathed. "The problem is Rhaegar."
The room fell to silence. Oswell leaned forward in his seat, intent. We've now reached the point of no return, he realized. This is no longer a friendly discussion among lords; this is out and out treason. He wondered if he should report any of it back to Ser Gerold, it was his duty to protect the king after all. I broke my oath once by choosing a prince over my King; it seems it's going to become a habit…
Harlaw was the first to speak. "What is it that the King has done?"
"It is not what he has done," the Queen Dowager replied. "It is what he's planning to do. I am sure you have all heard the rumblings about the tourney at Casterly Rock that he has been arranging with Tywin Lannister."
Mace Tyrell blinked in confusion. "Apologies….but what harm can come from a tourney?"
"Have you forgotten Harrenhall so easily?" asked Velaryon, ever the eager pet of the Queen. "Rhaegar used a tourney to mask his intentions last time and we had a war because of it."
The Fat Flower squirmed in his seat. "But surely the King would not be so thoughtless or arrogant to repeat himself? I have no love for the Martells, but after the rebellion their influence at court has only grown. Surely his grace would not upset them."
Oswell stirred. "Rhaegar is not governed by such things. The king has been playing at a bigger game, and if offending his various lords and causing a little bloodshed help him get his desired goal then he will not hesitate and he will not stop." He could still remember the way Rhaegar's eyes shone with certainty as he described the prophecy. The memory of it would haunt him some times, when he thought about the war.
Rhaella Targaryen's face seemed calm and collected, but behind it Oswell sensed maternal worry. "There is a reason why Cersei Lannister is still unmarried and I believe it has to do with Rhaegar," said the Queen Dowager. "If he uses this tourney as an excuse to get close to her….he may very well set aside Elia for Tywin's daughter and the Dornish will scream for blood."
"Could he not take two brides?" Karstark asked in his usual blunt way. "He did it with Lyanna Stark, why not do it again?"
Rodrick Harlaw coughed and sat forward, eyes intent. "Lyanna Stark died before she could rule as his second queen."
"But had she lived there would have been two queens."
"Aye," agreed Harlaw. "And we would have been facing Dornish uproar five years earlier. Not to mention the outrage it would stir within in the Faith."
Mace Tyrell sneered at the Iron Islander. "I did not know that the Ironborn worshiped the Seven."
"We don't," he replied coolly. "But I have read enough to know that in the history of the Targaryen reign only two kings have taken more than one bride and Rhaegar for all his fame and love, is not Aegon the Dragon or Baelor the Blessed. The Faith will insist that one of the marriages be absolved."
Rhaella frowned at the idea. "If he goes through with this plan of wedding Cersei Lannister then he shall have all the spears of Dorne against him, whether it is on the battlefield against the Red Viper or through poison at court, they will be against him."
"He'd also have all the power of Casterly Rock at his back," Karstark reminded them. "You throw that kind of force at anyone and there is sure to be a reckoning. The South would be caught between the forces of Martell and Lannister. It would be Robert's Rebellion all over again."
"Not if we stop it," insisted the Queen Dowager, looking at them all fiercely as a mother dragon. "If we can put an end to Rhaegar's ambitions before he does anything foolish then countless lives will be saved. We need not go through all this again."
Lord Harlaw pinched at his nose. "How would we possibly do that? Rhaegar is king. We cannot simply storm the Red Keep and force him to stay loyal to his wife, not if he has Tywin Lannister backing him, not to mention all the other lords of Crownlands, Riverrun and Vale that might join them." He looked at Rickard Karstark. "I also doubt that many of your fellow Northmen would raise up in open rebellion whilst Robb Stark sits as a hostage in King's Landing. Benjen Stark would not hear of it."
Karstark gave a grim nod. "Aye, the North cannot act with young Robb's life on the line. I would not hear of it either, the boy is kin."
"I can have the boy moved into my care," Queen Rhaella said politely. "If we do this right, with patience and persistence, then we can avoid great bloodshed."
Mace Tyrell puffed himself up, putting on a veneer of courage and stalwart bravery. "The power of the Reach is at your call my Queen; we shall give any and every support that you desire of us."
The grim northerner leaned forward, looking at them each in turn. "If you can promise me with absolute certainty that Robb Stark will be kept safe and away from the King and his Lannisters, then the North will fight for you."
"I shall do you one better my lord," the Queen said with a confident smile. "After we do this thing, I promise you that I will return the boy back to his family in the North."
Rodrick Harlaw looked doubtful. "Despite what you all might think of me and my people, we Iron Islanders do not all enjoy bloodletting. But we have a way of life, an old way that has not changed in thousands of years. My good-brother has little love for Greenlanders, he could just as easily attack if he thinks you're all vulnerable."
"You have the chance to lead your people into a better future my lord," the Queen's voice was laced with emotion. "I can promise your good-brother a place on the small council as Master of Ships; I can make him several concessions that might-"
"-No my Queen," he cut in. "That would only incense him. There are few things that Balon hates more than being given something. It would shame him and likely make an enemy out of him."
Rhaella pursed her lips, and sat back in her seat. Her brow was crinkled in thought and her eyes were staring at the painted table. Suddenly a smile came over her face. "My lord, would it be pleasing to your good-brother if he kept what lands he might take should a conflict arise?"
Harlaw took a breath, and gave a nod. "Aye, I think he would be much more open to that arrangement…I cannot promise you the allegiance of my people, but I can promise that I shall make your cause heard."
"That is all that I ask, my lord."
Oswell watched the faces of the Lords, Tyrell, Karstark, Velaryon and Harlaw, wondering if any of them saw the gaping hole in their plans. None of them did so the task fell to him to remind them. "My lords," he said. "You are forgetting our friend at Storm's End. House Baratheon has been at the mercy of Rhaegar ever since Robert died at the Trident. Do you really think our King will just let them sit back and do nothing? Renly Baratheon was still a hostage last time I checked."
"Then you need check again ser," laughed the Lord Oaf of Highgarden. "The boy has been serving as my ward for over a month now."
Queen Rhaella gave a slight nod to confirm Tyrell's story. "Renly is safe with Lord Mace, and I have been writing to Lord Stannis for quite some time now. He is….open to discussion. At the very least I am confident that we can ensure Baratheon neutrality."
By the gods, she's truly thought this all out. It was all Oswell could do to hold back his laughter. He watched Queen Rhaella sitting regally in her chair, there was a power to the woman, an assurance. Aegon the conqueror with teats indeed…
She looked at them all, one by one. "Is there any more? Is there anything else we need discuss?" A pleasant and respectful silence from her lords was her only answer. "Then I thank you. My lords, your courage and wisdom today will be vital in the coming days, and I may need to call upon you again. Until then I wish you well."
Obediently, the other conspirators made their farewells, Tyrell the first to depart and Harlaw and Karstark after. Velaryon tried to linger like a child been sent to bed, but eventually left as well. Oswell did not move from his seat.
The Queen however, paid him no mind and turned to the other man sitting at the table. The Dornishman had been so quiet and unresponsive the entire time that Oswell had completely forgotten about his presence. He sat respectfully in his seat, looking up over the queen with an odd expectancy. Rhaella smiled at him. "What does your lord say on this matter? Can I count on his support?"
"He has but few ships Your Grace," the Dornishman's accent was thick and held the twang of the Free Cities. "His military support would only be small."
Rhaella made a face. "His moral support is what I need."
The Dornishman rose and took out a small letter. He gave it to the Queen and stood back a few steps, his head bowed respectfully as he spoke. "I believe you will always have that, Your Grace."
"I….thank you, Ser," There was an odd layer of emotion to Rhaella's voice, an unexpected amount of joy that threatened to turn into something more. She pressed the letter to her heart. "You will have everything you need while you stay. You may go and rest now if it please you."
He gave a deep bow and strolled from the room in silence.
As soon as the door closed Rhaella opened the letter with a desperate sense of urgency and quickly read it over. Her purple eyes stared long and hard at the paper, as if to memorize each and every word on the page. Whatever it was that was written made the Queen smile, and her eyes glassy. Now what could that be about?Oswell's interest was piqued.
"A good read I hope?" Oswell said casually, slouching back in his seat as much as his armour would allow.
The Queen's face shot up in surprise and she quickly folded the piece of paper. "Yes, from someone I haven't seen since I was a girl."
"And that Dornishman," he noted. "Quite an accent he has."
"From the Stepstones," she told him quietly. "There is a Dornish outpost there commanded by someone loyal to the Iron Throne."
Ah, so that's it then. Rhaegar had told Oswell about his mad relative living on the fringes of the realm, but he had thought the man dead. "This would be kin of yours?" he asked. "The burnt one?"
Rhaella's face twisted into a scowl at his tone. "My uncle, yes."
"Hasn't he been living among the corsairs for…" Oswell tried to calculate how long it would have been, puffed out his cheeks and blew a breath. "At least since the time of your father King Jaehaerys. What does he offer you after so long?"
The Queen Dowager glanced over at one of the stone dragons that had been carved into the walls and gave a tired sigh. "That is not important. What was just discussed in this room on the other hand...I need to know what you think, as a friend of Rhaegar, as someone who has helped him with his obsessions….I need to know that I am not wrong."
Oswell didn't even need to think. "You are not wrong. I could see the signs in the weeks before I left, the moodiness, the bouts of extended depression. King Rhaegar has been dreaming his odd little dreams again and this time he is more determined than ever to see it happen. That is, unless Elia poisons him first."
"She wouldn't do that," Rhaella insisted. "She wouldn't do that to her children."
Oswell shrugged. "Either way, the Dornish will not be happy. Even if Rhaegar does nothing official, Oberyn Martell will ache to sink his fangs into the King. There are enough of those damned vipers at court already; Aerys certainly didn't see it coming."
"I did not love Aerys," she said quietly. "But I do love my son, and I will not see him destroyed in the way his father was."
He scratched at the stubble that formed under his jaw line, thinking. "Why… are you doing all this? Not to call your capability into question, but why are you getting so involved with all of this?"
The queen looked at him in a way he couldn't quite decipher. She seemed almost like a young maiden then, watching him as if he were a strange housecat that she had found sleeping in her rooms. A smile danced on her lips and she rested her chin upon her hands. "I knew fifteen years of happiness. After that my life was effectively over as I lived at Aerys side, underneath his thumb." Her eyes were locked upon his with such intensity that he almost flinched. "I have little love for your sworn brothers, towards the end I feared those damned White cloaks and their apathy as much as I did Aerys and his claws and teeth. I would have likely died during those days had it not been for Rhaegar's victory and Elia's poisons. Daenerys' birth was hard, but I willed myself to live because I knew…I knew that I was free. I had my life back."
"And yet you left King's Landing." Oswell pointed out. "It was your home, and yet you came to this gloomy place."
"I did," she agreed. "This place sheltered my family for centuries; I needed to recover from everything….it made sense to come here. My time here, away from court…it gave me time to think about what was important. My father died for this realm, and while my brother and even my beloved son may let it down, I will not."
Oswell let out a breath. At least I can see where Rhaegar gets his courage, he thought whilst drumming his fingers against the table in contemplation. "Are you really going to free Rhaegar's hostages?"
Rhaella rolled her eyes. "Of course I am; I gave my word. And besides, that is why my lie will convince Rhaegar; because it won't be a lie at all." She got a faraway look and her voice went soft. "Jon has Dany and Viserys to some extent, but the child is lonely and solemn. I find myself hoarding his smiles like pearls, and they grow rarer each day. I can only hope that when we move from here that he'll find something to bring him joy."
"Move?" he was confused. "Where are we going Your Grace?"
Rhaella's smile was wolfish. "Why, to Summerhall of course."