Rhaella:
I've been summoned.
Cold fingers rested on her heart when the messenger informed her that her brother and her king requested her presence in the Council Chambers. The armored footfalls of Ser Alliser, her diligent knight, who walked behind her. She had little faith in the men who guarded her because she knew their loyalty was to her brother, and it extended from there on his leave.
The fear was pulsating in her chest as she wondered and worried why her husband would have need of her at this time of day and location. She felt her fingers tremble as they neared. She clasped her hands together, not willing to show any fear in the presence of her brother.
I am a dragon. The words caused her to stand straight as the chamber doors came into view. A handful of Targaryen guards stood outside as well as Ser Barristan Selmy, who led the ripples of bowed heads.
"Your Grace."
"Ser Barristan." She was surprised to see him. She had been informed he was to be guarding her son, Daeron.
"The Prince is inside, Your Grace," He answered her unasked question with a gentle smile.
The presence of her son was a welcome balm to her worries.
"The king is waiting."
Feelings of dread stirred within her, but she could not show weakness. She smiled towards the knight. "I shall not keep him waiting." She steadied herself before she stepped inside the chambers, with her head held high.
Whatever Aerys does to me, I am still a Dragon.
Her eyes took in the room. Myrish carpet was spread along the floor. Tapestries hung on the walls from all parts of Essos including Lys and Norvos. The sigil of her house hung alone and proud. The red three headed dragon on a black field. It looked terrifying as it shadowed the room beneath the table where the small council met.
"You kept me waiting."
The cracking sound of her brother's petulant tone tore her eyes away from her family's banner and to Aerys himself. He was sitting at the head of the table in a finely carved chair with the etching of the Targaryen sigil on its back and the arms of the seat cut to look like resting dragons.
She slipped into a curtsey, repressing the wince that came from the bruise on her thighs from her brother's latest visit. "Your Grace," she allowed herself to raise her head to see his lecherous gaze upon her chest. She swallowed the thick fear that was forming in her throat. Rhaella understood that look.
He will be visiting me soon. The icy claw squeezed itself around her heart.
"Forgive me," she finished in her apology.
Aerys waved her off, and pointed to one of the empty chairs at the table. It was the farthest from him.
It was said in the times of Queen Alysanne that she sat beside her husband when the Small Council met. She would help him lead the council and rule the kingdoms.
A kind king, and a gentle husband, she wondered how that would feel.
Rhaella was under no delusions that her and Aerys matched the marriage between The Conciliator and the Good Queen. They may have been brother and sister, like her and Aerys, but they had always desired the other, and had wanted to marry. It had been their family and advisers who were against the match between them.
If only I had been so blessed.
She did not complain about her seat or the disrespect that was intended. She curtseyed once more before taking her seat. It was when she sat down that she noticed the other occupants sitting at the table.
Lord Tywin Lannister was sitting to the king's right. Like the King, the Hand's chair was specially designed to show the symbol of the office carved onto its back. Lord Tywin having served for so many years had commissioned the seat to also included a lion engraving to honor his family's house.
Standing to the king's left was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Gerold Hightower. Garbed in white silk and steel, he stood resolute as a pale statue. His hair had mostly gone grey, but some specks of black remained. He had a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes moved across the room when he met the Queen's inquisitive stare, he dipped his head in respect, before continuing to remain alert.
Grand Maester Pycelle was sitting on the other side of Lord Tywin Lannister. He smiled politely at her through his thick beard that fell just below his collarbone. He was dressed in the robes of his order, and the links of his chain rested loosely against him.
"Mother."
She turned to see the only other person who was not in the room sitting was her son, Daeron. He emerged from behind a carved screen. His smile alone was enough to give her courage for being in the same room with her husband. "Daeron," She greeted him with a kiss to his cheek when he neared and bent over.
He did not linger. Like her, he did not want to face the scrutiny of their king. So without another word, he moved to take his seat. It was across from Lord Tywin and Grand Maester Pycelle.
She took her eyes off of her son and onto Aerys. His face was scrunched up, looking as if he swallowed something particularly sour. His hair was stringy and silver. It fell down in tangled knots passed his shoulders. Even the clean rich black silks and red stitches of the finery he wore could not take the attention away from the man's unkempt appearance. His long fingernails tapping the table impatiently.
She shuddered, recalling their touch on her skin from his visits.
"You should all be grateful that I called you all here," His face was pinched. His eyes turned to each of them, as if half expecting one of them to challenge him. No one did. They were silent.
Satisfied, at their silence and mistaking it for respect instead of fear, Aerys continued. "Lord Tywin, you have served at the pleasure of your king for how long?"
Tywin was unphased by the King's sharp tone. "I have served gratefully, Your Grace for eighteen years."
Aerys hummed at that. "Grateful," he let out a snicker that sounded more akin to an animal than a man. "And I am grateful for that service." He gave a sharp smile towards his Hand of the King.
There was a time when her brother valued a smile from Tywin more than any show of power. She could recall how Aerys would take pride in getting his friend to smile or laugh at one of his stories.
Now, he delivered cruelty and insults.
"Do you think your King is kind, Lord Hand?"
"I do, Your Grace."
"Liar!"
Tywin's face was stoic amidst the king's ourburst.
The King's face calmed, and he smiled. It was not the same smile of his youth, Rhaella observed. That smile could melt the hearts of maidens and charm any lord. This was an ugly shadow of its former glory, a puckering of chapped lips and yellow teeth.
"I will show you and all the kingdoms that I am a generous king." Aerys' eyes darted around the room, daring them to challenge his claim. "Let the realms know that I reward good service."
"To serve is its own reward, Your Grace," Tywin said what was expected to be observed when a gift was offered by the Crown.
"My Lord Hand!" Aerys clapped, a cackle followed as he leaned back in his chair. "What a show of honor and loyalty, would you not agree, Lord Commander?"
"I agree, Your Grace," Gerold Hightower said from where he stood.
Aerys looked pleased at what he believed a sincere show of support for him. "That is why I have decided to grant your request, Lord Tywin." His smile sharpened when his words withdrew a reaction from his Lord Hand.
"You promised me Summerhall in the exchange of my son," he waved a hand in the direction of Daeron. "So I accept."
Summerhall, her heart quickened. Fire and screams, smoke and death, she trembled. The wraiths of those who perished lingered in her heart and thoughts after all these years. The horrors of that night were cuts to her soul that could not mend.
Flames and agony whirled around her. Dragons burned, she despaired at all her family lost on that fateful night. We were brought to near ruin.
Rhaegar, she breathed. It was there amidst the tragedy that her son took his first breath while so many of their kin took their last. Blood was burned. Blood was shed. Blood was spared.
She pushed the horrors behind her, focusing on how the Lord of Casterly Rock react. The stony countenance slipped and sincere surprise flickered beneath the golden flecks of his green eyes, and a small, but noticeable smile emerged. He had gotten what he had always aspired for-a union between his family and theirs.
"Your Grace," Tywin bowed his head. "I am grateful."
Aerys waved away his gratitude like it was an annoying insect and not something that should be treated seriously. "I do this because I am a good and strong king," He reminded them. "I do this for Summerhall." His eyes flashed-wistful and bright. "It was a magnificent palace and it will be again with your family funding it." He looked back towards Tywin, unveiled contempt in his expression. "We shall see how much gold the lion really has."
Tywin took the king's words in cool silence.
Rhaella did not share Aerys' love for that place. She was not certain she wanted to return to it. It is a graveyard now. The dead dragons have claimed it. Let them have it. Let them rest.
"And you!" Aerys snapped his fingers turning his gaze on their second son.
"Father," Daeron deferred to him with a bowed head.
"Do you understand what I've done?"
Daeron looked up. "I am honored to join House Lannister in this union."
Rhaella could detect the dullness in her son's voice despite his poise and polished tone. She was pleased to see Lord Tywin took his words to be genuine and offered the prince the slightest of nods.
"Honor?" Aerys looked at him as if he was a fool. "It's no honor to marry a servant, boy."
Rhaella saw the tension in Lord Tywin's jaw. The flecks in his eyes burning, but the Lord Hand remained composed. He would say and do nothing in front of the king in fear of jeopardizing what he has coveted for so long.
We all wear our contempt for you in silence, brother. She turned her attention back towards her son, hoping he knew how to properly react. Careful, my boy, she prayed for him. He was left a difficult task of appeasing his father, but also not insulting Lord Tywin, his future good father.
"I too am but a servant, father," Daeron seemed to be picking his words with the utmost care. "I serve the crown, I serve you." He dipped his head towards him. "That is why it is fitting for me to marry Lord Tywin's daughter. If this betrothal is my best way of serving you than I do so readily, Your Grace."
Rhaella was silently pleased at her son's handling of his father's sensitive manner. She looked to see Lord Tywin's face stayed the same, but she knew the Lord Hand long enough to know when he was pleased or angry, just by a look even one as stoic as this. In seeing him now, she knew that Lord Tywin was accepting of the prince's words.
Aerys studied his son with hooded eyes for a few heartbeats. Measuring his words silently and trying to see if he was speaking true or trying to deceive him. In the end, he looked mollified. "My son knows his place." He nodded, "Pycelle."
"Yes, Your Grace?" Grand Maester Pycelle was surprised at being suddenly called upon.
"Prepare the appropriate letters to be sent to acknowledge this betrothal," Aerys ordered.
"I will get to work on this right away, Your Grace," he replied, "With your leave?"
"Leave," was Aerys' sharp reply.
Pycelle hid his annoyance behind a bowed head and a thick beard. "Your Grace," he then shuffled out of the chambers.
"Fool," Aerys complained, "When will construction for Summerhall begin, Tywin?"
"In a fortnight, Your Grace," Tywin answered smoothly.
Rhaella was surprised at not just the quickness, but the confidence of the Lord Hand's promise. She suspected it to take weeks even months before work could start on trying to rebuild the palace of Summerhall. Especially since the Lord Hand was to leave the capital shortly and to return to Casterly Rock to oversee and finish the preparations of the pending wedding between his son and heir, Jaime Lannister to the Dornish Princess, Elia Martell.
"A fortnight," Aerys griped. Even such incredible haste did not seem to appease their king and his expectations.
"It is the ravens, Your Grace," Tywin explained. "It takes time for them to fly with the proper instructions to give the orders and to gather the men and materials."
Aerys grumbled, but accepted this. "Very well," his tone implied the sacrifice he was making for allowing two weeks to pass before work could begin. "The wedding between my son and your daughter will be held no shorter than a year, and no longer than three. It will be on my leave and on my seeing how the progress on Summerhall is." His fingernails scratched the table's surface.
"Of course, Your Grace," Tywin hid his disappointment behind a calm veneer. "You will be glad to be informed that the castle's preparations and constructions will remain a priority for my family."
Aerys did not seem glad. "If you want to marry my son it should be."
Tywin responded to the king's petulance with indifference. The Lord Hand did not bend to the king's cruelty, like a mountain does not to the wind. No matter how hard the wind blows, the mountain stayed standing just like Lord Tywin. "I may send the appropriate orders now, if I have your leave, Your Grace?"
The King sniffed, "You do."
Tywin stood in one swift movement. He bowed his head to Aerys. His eyes then flickered over to Prince Daeron. The corners of Lord Tywin's lips twitched, appraising the man before him, his future good son. Her son sensed Lord Tywin's gaze and gave the Lord Hand, an acknowledged nod. He left after that.
"Do you understand what I'm giving you, boy?" Her husband's voice was a jagged hook that lurched her focus back between her son and brother, "A wife and a castle."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"I'm giving you what I always wanted." His eyes locked onto hers, a sneer followed, "A Lannister wife."
You were not my choice, Brother. She met his gaze for a heartbeat or two, savoring the act of defiance before she bowed her head. She only prayed that it would not cost her later…
Jaime:
"It is done."
Jaime had been surprised to be summoned to his father's solar at this hour expecting him to be busy fulfilling his role as Hand of the King. When he arrived, he found himself more surprised by his father's pleased look and the half glass of wine resting on his desk.
"Father?"
"The king has agreed to our proposal," Tywin informed him, satisfaction seeping into his tone.
"So that means," Jaime already knew.
"Your sister will marry Prince Daeron," Tywin finished. "I'm writing the letters now. One for your mother and one for Cersei," he sipped his wine. "And then several others to follow to appease the king, but this is a good day." He told Jaime, "This is the day that the lion and the dragon will finally unite."
"A good day," Jaime chorused, wondering how his friend was taking this news. "Does the Prince know?"
"He was there when he was told."
"I'm sure he was pleased," Jaime lied.
"He was," Tywin confirmed, looking at Jaime. "Your work, my son." He raised his glass in his direction. "Well done, Jaime. Well done serving the family."
I did nothing, Jaime wanted to say. I was a craven. He felt little like celebrating despite the fact that his closest friend was to be his good brother. He wished Elia was here. She'd know what to say, and more importantly how to say it.
"We will leave for the Rock in two days," His father's voice cut through his thoughts. "This is our time, Jaime. Your marriage to Princess Elia. Cersei's betrothal to Prince Daeron. Our family has never been stronger." He raised his glass to him.
Jaime did not want to dwell on his sister's new betrothal. "So it was Summerhall?"
"Yes, your mother was right," His father's lips twitched. "She saw Aerys' desires and used it for our family's gain."
Desires, the word made Jaime sick. The Prince was his friend and they cared little for him. It was Rhaegar they wanted, and when denied, they sought his friend.
You serve your family, The words of his father swirling in his head while he grappled with its impact.
"It will be an expensive endeavor, but your mother has run the Rock well, and we have the gold. We will be getting some help from the Crown and I will send either Kevan or Gerion to the castle to overlook its rebuild after the wedding."
Jaime only nodded, "Was there anything else?" He did not feel like celebrating with his Father.
His father regarded coolly. "You may go," He acquiesced. "I'm sure you will wish to offer your congratulations to the prince."
I'd rather apologize than congratulate him, he thought sourly on his own actions. Instead, he gave his father a tight nod and moved towards the door.
That was when his father spoke. "Your friendship with Prince Daeron is admirable."
Jaime's hand was on the doorknob. "Even if I didn't do it for the family." He was surprised by his own boldness. His surprise only grew when his father reacted to it with a smile.
"We must serve our family, Jaime." His father said slowly. "Just as Joanna was right about Aerys. You were right about the Prince. It was you who told me of Prince Daeron's virtues. You were right with every one of them. You saw his quality when I and Cersei did not. You served the family."
"Is that all, Father?" His grip on the doorknob tightened.
"A reminder that our family will soon include Prince Daeron. He will be your good brother," His father observed. "So remember my words and your loyalty to family."
"I will," Jaime noticed the different inflection his father made when speaking of Prince Daeron and family. He nodded, and slipped out, wanting to find his friend, but he couldn't help but wonder what it was his father wasn't saying.