The two lifelong friends charged hard, only stopping their attack when they realized the lion’s in front of them were surrendering.
Aelor soon discovered why when he met his brother a few dozen feet from the ladder leading into the High Septon’s chamber.
Several of the yielding knights were kneeling between them, swords cast aside.
…
“I see our infiltration didn’t work.” Aelor greeted his brother as he pulled off his white flame helmet.
Alaric, good lad that he was, had managed to scoop it up during the ride to the Red Keep.
The Langward lad now stood beside the King along with Ser Barristan, both with bloody swords.
“Quite the contrary,” the King replied as he pulled his own dragon-wing helm off his head, long silvery hair a stark contrast to the black of the armor.
“They were rushing to send men down the tunnel when we came through the front door.”
Renfred, big black beard grown bushy while on campaign, had moved like a man without pain during the fight, but now he was beginning to favor his wounded shoulder.
Aelor supposed it had reopened, as his own gash had.
“How many men did we lose?”
“More than any of us would have liked, but less than we would have had we stormed it without you acting as a distraction.”
“Tywin?” Aelor asked, letting the adrenaline ebb from his bloodstream.
I don’t see how the man could have escaped, but if this passage is here, there is bound to be more.
“Captured,” Rhaegar’s melancholy tone confirmed.
“And still acting as if he is in complete control.”
“Of course he is.
He’s Tywin Lannister.” Aelor cracked his neck, the joint popping in the cramped, smoldering corridor.
“Do you mind taking this conversation elsewhere?
It smells too much like death here.”
“Aye, it does,” came a new voice, exotic and flowing like a song as the lean owner stepped into view, a smirk on his olive face.
“Though the blood of Lannisters is a good thing, no?”
Aelor grinned widely.
It seemed the Dornish had arrived.
…
“We can’t execute him, Prince Oberyn.” Rhaegar’s voice was tired, both from battle fatigue and from having to reiterate this point over and over again.
“At least not yet.”
“And why not,” demanded the lean form of Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne.
His exotic voice was only half as sensuous as the young woman currently seated in his lap.
Ellaria Sand he had introduced her as, the newest in a long line of Prince Oberyn paramours.
While she wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense, she certainly caught the eye.
Prince Oberyn seemed especially taken.
Aelor knew the Dornishman easily grew bored, be it with ballads or bed partners, but this one seemed different.
The girl was no older than six and ten, and despite the Red Viper’s less than normal taste it was unlikely they had been intimately entwined for long, but Oberyn already seemed heavily invested in the bastard of Lord Uller. This story is hosted at novelping.com.
Invested enough to insist, despite Rhaegar’s protests, to bring her into the Small Council chambers for the war council.
Or maybe that was because of Rhaegar’sprotests.
As angry as Aelor was with Rhaegar’s treatment of Elia—for less than chivalrous reasons, it seemed—he held nothing on the rage her brother had for the King.
Aelor was going to have to make sure Prince Oberyn didn’t kill Rhaegar in his wrath.
“Because we need the army of the Westermen.” The King sat at the head of the table, an untouched tankard of ale beside him.
“Over three thousand of them are still alive.
I need those numbers to counter the traitors.”
“They are traitors,” Oberyn argued.
“They were caught sacking your city, raping your women.
They sent an assassin to do the same to my sister and her children.”
“They didn’t succeed.”
“No thanks to you ,” Oberyn spat back, rage evident in both his voice and glare.
Ellaria Sand placed a soothing hand on his chest, rubbing small circles as she whispered something in his ear.
The razor sharp tension in the Prince of Dorne’s shoulders subsided though his glare remained.
Aelor was suddenly very glad for the paramour’s presence.
“No, it was thanks to me , with the help of Lord Varys,” the Dragon of Duskendale cut in from the other end of the table, nodding at the Spider.
“And as much as I’d love to slit the throat of every Lannister in our custody, the King is right.
Baratheon has forty thousand men.
With those Westermen we’ll have close to the same.”
“Numbers do not win wars,” said Randyll Tarly, “but they certainly help.”
Oberyn eyed the others at the table, Varys, Tarly, Jon Connington, Ser Barristan and the Targaryen’s.
The Prince of Dorne had ridden into the city during the opening stages of the assault on the sept, and, upon hearing the sounds of battle, had of course had to join in.
“What are our plans?”
Varys’ tittering voice answered.
“Baratheon and the others rebellious lords are slowly moving from Riverrun, though it is clear they have no intention of marching on King’s Landing.”
“Wise of them,” Connington said, nodding.
“They have no chance of carrying the walls with this many loyalists in the city.
They’ll wait for us to meet them.”
“Which Your Grace has to do,” Varys said.
“My little birds tell me there is already talk of Targaryen weakness for allowing the rebels to remain relatively unscathed for so long.”
Rhaegar nodded.
“Jon is right; we have to meet them in the field.”
“You won’t be able to trust Lannister,” Oberyn pointed out, eyes still full of an anger he was managing to keep in check with the help of Ellaria.
Maybe that’s why he brought her; to help him keep his head during the meeting.
“That’s why we don’t bring Tywin.” Or Jaime.
Rhaegar had gone to the black cells to speak with the young vow-breaker as Aelor had overseen the siege of the sept, and what the young Lannister had told the King had made Rhaegar Targaryen swear Aelor, Barristan and Alaric Langward to an oath of secrecy about the true reason behind the Mad King’s death.
Aelor wasn’t certain how they were going to handle that situation.
For all anyone else knew, Jaime had been injured trying to protect the King and was recovering somewhere in the Red Keep.
The truth that Jaime had killed him when Aerys had ordered the city burned made things much more difficult.
We’ll handle that once this war is won I suppose, though the Seven know how.
“Ser Kevan Lannister was captured alongside his brother,” Aelor continued on, returning to the subject at hand.
“He is loyal to his brother, but as such he cares deeply for his safety.
If we hold Tywin on threat of death, Kevan will keep the Westerlandes in line for the remainder of the war.”
“You can’t be seriously considering allowing Tywin to live,” Oberyn nearly growled, voice outraged.
“The man is a dishonorable traitor!”
“Yes, he is,” the King said.
“But he is a Lannister, and both respected and feared by his bannermen.
We need those numbers for this war.
Once it is over we can deal with Tywin as we will with all of the rebellious lords.”
“A name holds powerful sway,” Aelor agreed.
“It’s why we have an army at all.
It wasn’t for love of our father that they remained loyal, of that we are all aware; it is because his name was Targaryen .
For that reason Ser Kevan will lead the Westerlanders as we march on the other rebels; because he is a Lannister.”
Oberyn was clearly not pleased, though he kept his displeasure to himself.
He waited a long while before nodding.
“My men and I are with you.”
The Prince of Dorne had addressed Aelor, not the King, something Rhaegar had certainly seen.
Rhaegar said nothing on it, however, instead rising, prompting the others to do the same.
Even Oberyn and Ellaria.
“Good.
We march on the Riverlands on the morrow.”
Aelor turned, striding from the chambers to start making the endless preparations necessary to move a host the size of the one in the city.
More death and destruction on the horizon, it seems.
Aelor didn’t dread that thought.
That once would have scared him, but it no longer did.
T I suppose that means I am truly lost.
Not that it mattered; he had a war to win.
A good man may have trouble doing what was necessary to achieve that, but a man like the one Aelor was turning into would have no problem.
No, a man like the one Aelor was turning into would enjoy the process.
…
For an extra chapter.