CHAPTER I - THE SILVER KING
The bells tolled high above the Sept of Baelor as the news was trickled out to the masses of King's Landing, from the Street of Sisters to Cobbler's Square. The king was dead. Aerys Targaryen's death came in a manner befitting of the man: Cruel and unpredictable. The Mad King was never one for riding, and met his death atop a horse, or rather, underneath one. It remains unclear what caused the horse to frenzy as it had, but once it begun, it would not stop. The king's steed threw its rider from his back and trampled the already-frail man for what seemed an age, though in truth it was no more than a few seconds.
Aerys' Kingsguard dismounted their own horses as fast as they could, and ran to the aid of their king. Jonothor Darry was the first to arrive at the side of his king. The knight showed no hesitation, charging the stallion head-on, throwing his body against it's larger frame, launching the beast from atop its master. Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne ran to Aerys, who now lied motionless on the cobbled streets of the capital. It was neither the cuts nor bruises that ended the king, but the way in which his skull sat strewed across the stone road. The horse had come down hard on Aerys Targaryen's head, crushing it beneath the weight of its hoof. The Mad King's crown was cracked and malformed from the indecent, and the assortment of gems lay scattered across the ground. What was once the Street of Steel, would now forever be known as the Ruby Road.
This series of unfortunate events had delayed the departure of the royal host from King's Landing, as preparations were made for Prince Rhaegar's succession of his father. The Silver Prince, or rather the Silver King now, seemed largely unaffected by his father's passing. The young king-to-be grieved in his own way, as all men do, but did not show it. He grieved for the man that once was, not the man his father had become. In his last years, Aerys Targaryen grew twisted and full of contempt for the world around him, caring not even for his own son and heir. To the king, Rhaegar was a means to an end, a continuation of the fire that had ruled the Seven Kingdoms for three hundred years.
In his madness, the king had grown to love the flames as the Brightflame, Aerion, once had. It consumed Aerion, and so too did it consume Aerys. The culmination of his obsessions helped start this folly the kingdoms found themselves in. After Rhaegar's presumed kidnapping of Lyanna Stark, her brother, and heir to Winterfell, rode to the capital, demanding justice. Aerys had the brash lord imprisoned, and sent for the Lord of the North, Rickard Stark, to personally answer for the crimes of his son. Rickard was burned alive, and Brandon choked to death by the cruelest of devices, while attempting to save the life of his lord-father. Noting the crimes committed by their king, Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark rallied their banners, and called for war.
While it was agreed upon by the Small Council that the eve of war was not the time to crown Rhaegar, his rule as king began nonetheless. His first decree was a plea to the Lord of Stormlands to meet him in single combat.
"Robert does not care for the throne, he cares for Lyanna", the young king said. "He can avenge Lord Stark's family, save the lives of his men, and win back Lyanna. He will accept."
With that, Rhaegar's army made for Robert's seat of Storm's End. If by chance, Robert was to refuse the king's offer, the Iron Throne had to be prepared for battle.
The army from the Crownlands never reached the ancient seat of the Storm Kings, instead finding themselves facing a host of similar strength, just west of the Wendwater. A black stag on a field of gold adorned their banners. There stood the armies of House Baratheon, no doubt led by Robert himself. King Rhaegar assembled a small host of three men- one to carry the banner of the House Targaryen, another to carrier the white banner of parley, and Ser Gerold Hightower. Ser Gerold Hightower, known as 'the 'White Bull', was Lord Commander to Aerys' Kingsguard, and now that of his son Rhaegar. He was an old man, having served already as Lord Commander for two decades, but cast an imposing shadow still. The four men rode out into the field in hopes of convincing Robert before battle ensued. The riders had not yet made twenty strides when a large man stepped out of the mass of Baratheon soldiers.
"War!" The man bellowed, so that all could hear his voice. The army behind him roared in approval and with not another step, the Silver King turned his mount and returned to his lines.
The roaring man, had of course, been Robert Baratheon and what a man he was. Rhaegar was adored throughout the kingdoms for his beauty, but Robert was of a different make. He was not freakish tall, but freakish large. His width at the shoulder was enough to make even the largest man around him seem small. The sigil of House Baratheon was a stag, but it was not a stag Rhaegar saw in Robert.
He stands more like a bear than a man, the king thought. It was an intimidating sight. Nonetheless, Rhaegar was saddened by Robert's cry, as it signaled the start of the war and the deaths of many good men. Perhaps if the two met in single combat, Rhaegar might fall to Robert. Perhaps the kingdoms might have lost their second king in as many months, but the war would have been over. Rhaegar's father was already dead, no vengeance could be pried from the paws of a dead man. Were Rhaegar to fall at the hands of Robert himself, what grievance would there be then? The Stormlanders could return home, the Crownlanders could return home. The Northmen, the Rivermen, the Valemen, everyone. But it was not to be. The armies were to meet here in the Kingswood. The War of the Usurper had begun.
The king sat atop his steed, as black as the armor he bore into battle. He lowered his visor, until only the violet of his eyes could be seen of his face, and similarly lowered his lance. He kicked at the sides of his mount, and the beast began to trod forward. This trot quickened into a canter, then into a gallop, and before long, the king had was charging directly towards the lines of Stormlanders across the field, his entire host in tow. With minimal cavalry in their ranks, Robert's forces held their ground, preparing for the onslaught of horse and steel that was to come crashing down upon them. Their pikes were extended, but Robert was not among the front lines. The man did not ride a horse in battle as Rhaegar and most other lords did. Robert stayed with his men, fighting side-by-side with even the lowest-born he had. He was both feared by his enemy and loved by his friends for this. He lived for fighting, and the best fight he could wish for would be on his own two feet. His hammer would be of no use against a cavalry charge and so the Lord of the Stormlands remained back, awaiting the mass of crown royalists that would soon be upon him.
Rhaegar was the first to meet his enemy, setting an example for all those that followed behind him. His lance met its mark, knocking the life from a pikeman in an instant. He continued his stride, thicker into the melee, landing another strong blow to the head of a Stormlander. From then on, his lance would be useless, as he no longer had the speed nor distance to use it effectively. The king threw down the weapon and drew his sword. The blade shimmered in the sun, its edge shining bright white, while its hilt shone red from the ruby adorning it. It would taste much blood before the day was done.
The fighting dragged on for hours, with each side suffering significant losses. It wasn't until Rhaegar's plan was enacted that the tide of the battle turned. Before the fighting had begun, Rhaegar's host had set up camp on the crest of a hill, overlooking the field they now found themselves fighting in. Robert's scouts had indicated to their liege lord that Rhaegar had brought with him ten thousand men. What they failed to see was what lied behind the crest of the hill. Another two thousand men, mostly cavalry led by Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard, had remained behind and passed around the woods, onto Robert's flank. Whent's arrival sent Robert's forces reeling. Under attack from two fronts, their courage faltered and many began to flee the field.
Robert's van held fast however, and clashed with Rhaegar's own. As most of Robert's forces had routed, the royal army began to encircle the remaining host from Storm's End and the fighting would soon be over. The Silver King spotted the Lord of the Stormlands as he threw a man over his shoulders, then proceeded to bury his warhammer in his skull. He charged at the stag, hoping to catch him unaware, but Robert turned to face him just in time. He side-stepped Rhaegar's advance, and sent his warhammer crashing against the hind knee of the king's horse. Now dismounted, Rhaegar faced down the giant of a man. Before the Lord of House Baratheon could take another step however, he was knocked from his feet by an oncoming rider from his rear. Too distracted by the King before him, he failed to see Ser Gerold Hightower barreling down at him. His horse met Robert's body, knocking him over and out cold. The blow would have been enough to kill an ordinary man, but Robert was no ordinary man.
The Baratheon lord awoke in chains, surrounded by whitecloaks and the man they swore to defend.
"Your forces routed, Robert." Said the king to his prisoner. "Without their liege lord to follow, they lost all hope and fled the field. It is over."
The look on Robert Baratheon's face said all there was to say. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. His face was heavy with anger and sorrow for the men that did not survive to see the day's end.
"So... What now?" Robert asked, in a voice that paled in comparison to the one that had beckoned for war earlier in the day.
"We return to King's Landing, and you with us. We've called Lords Stark, Tully, Arryn and your brother Stannis, to the capital to discuss terms and adjourn over your trial."
"Ned? Coming to the capital to
talk terms?" replied Robert, shocked at the words that fell from Rhaegar's mouth.
"It seems your friends hold you in high regard, my lord. Lord Eddard would not have you share the same fate of his brother and father, if it could be avoided."
With that, the king turned and beckoned to his Kingsguard to follow. They huddled close and talked with muted voices, as not to inform Robert of their musings.
"I will make for the Tower of Joy at once." Said the king. "I must see to Lyanna, I need to know that she is alright. The young king looked to two of his kingsguard. "Oswell, Arthur, you will accompany me. Lord Commander Gerold will lead the men back to the capital and Ser Barristan will head to Dragonstone to bring my family to the capital."
The men all nodded in consent to their king and before long were on their way.
Rhaegar mounted his new horse and with Sers Oswell and Arthur at his side, began his ride south into Dorne. It had been far too long since the king had seen his lover. He longed to hold her in his arms again, to feel the warmth of her body and the taste of her lips. Once there however, the king knew something had to be done regarding his Queen, Elia. He had betrayed and dishonored her by professing his love for Lyanna Stark, an act which would surely anger the lords of House Martell.
There is time for that later, he thought to himself.
My thoughts now are for Lyanna.