Chapter 41: Rhaegar's Betrothed Bride
Inside the Small Council chamber of King's Landing, the atmosphere was heavy and restrained.
At present, only four people occupied the room—men of different ages and temperaments, yet all standing at the pinnacle of power in Westeros. Their decisions shaped not only the present, but the future of the realm.
Duke Mond—Lord Steffon Baratheon—was broad-shouldered and imposing, his black beard thick, his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. The Old King, Jaehaerys II, sat beside him, pale and thin, his silver-gold hair falling to his shoulders. Though still bearing the violet eyes of Valyria, illness had left him prematurely aged and frail.
Across from them stood Prince Aerys, heir to the Iron Throne—handsome, confident, volatile, and self-assured to the point of arrogance. Beside him was his young son, Prince Rhaegar, silver-haired and indigo-eyed, quiet and observant far beyond his years.
Silver hair and purple eyes marked the blood of Old Valyria, though those eyes could appear violet, lilac, or deep indigo. Rhaegar's gaze lingered calmly on the adults before him, listening more than speaking.
Both King Jaehaerys and Duke Mond were deep in thought.
According to Ser Gerold Hightower's letter, House Reyne of Castamere had been completely exterminated.
With the Westerlands unified once more, House Lannister's strength would recover rapidly. The foundations Tywin Lannister had laid were solid, and with the Reynes erased, no secondary power remained to hinder him.
Rhaegar could see the mixed emotions on the faces of the two elder commanders.
The joy lay in Tywin's close friendship with Aerys and Steffon. A strengthened House Lannister would further solidify the alliance of Dragon, Lion, and Stag.
But the worry was no less real.
Aerys was neither tolerant nor particularly magnanimous—and while he was intelligent, his temperament was unstable. Tywin, by contrast, was resolute, proud, and unyielding. A weak lord ruling over powerful vassals was a recipe for future turmoil. Only the gods knew how such a balance would end.
"That boy Tywin did a splendid job," Prince Aerys said lightly, clearly unaware of the deeper implications of his words.
"Ser Tywin is not merely your vassal," Duke Mond interrupted calmly, "but also your friend. You would do well to show proper respect to the heir of the Westerlands."
Before Aerys could respond, King Jaehaerys's expression hardened.
"Take your lecherous eyes off Joanna Lannister," the old king said sharply. "If it happens again, I will send you to the Silent Sisters to contemplate your vows."
The room fell instantly silent.
"As Crown Prince," Jaehaerys continued coldly, "do you think such behavior fitting? You are disloyal to your wife, disloyal to your brother, and behave like a foolish goose hopping about the court."
His voice rose with restrained fury.
"At your age, Tywin Lannister was already crushing rebels and securing his house. And you? Your attention is fixed on skirts, perfumes, and smiles. Do you believe those women love you? Or do they love the crown, the power, and the throne you wear?"
Prince Aerys's face flushed a deep crimson, like raw liver. Though such thoughts lingered in his mind, no one had ever dared to rebuke him so openly.
"I… I…" Aerys stammered, unable to retort.
The atmosphere grew unbearably awkward.
Faced with his father and uncle—both mentors and men of immense authority—Aerys could only bow his head in silence.
Rhaegar felt a flicker of satisfaction, though he showed none of it. If he were older, he might have wanted to strike Aerys on behalf of his mother.
Joanna Lannister was not only Tywin's betrothed, but Queen Rhaella's close friend. Her father had died in the Stepstones for the realm. Of all people, she was the least deserving of such insult.
Rhaegar had heard many stories of his father's indulgences in King's Landing—how courtiers flocked around him, how young women preened for royal favor, and how Aerys basked in it all.
Seeing the situation deteriorate, Duke Mond rose from his seat.
"That will be enough," he said with a measured chuckle. "Let us speak of better news. My wife is with child. I cannot wait. A strong boy would be fine—but a girl would be a blessing as well."
King Jaehaerys's expression softened.
"Indeed," he said, turning his gaze to Rhaegar. "This concerns you as well."
If Steffon Baratheon's wife bore a daughter, she would almost certainly become Rhaegar's future bride.
Marriage for heirs to the Iron Throne was rarely a matter of choice.
Child betrothals were discussed long before feelings could form. Even when grown, a Targaryen prince's options were few.
Unless under special circumstances, the blood of the dragon rarely flowed beyond the family—an inheritance of Old Valyria.
History provided examples. Aemma Arryn, born of a Targaryen princess and an Arryn lord, had later married back into the royal house and given birth to Princess Rhaenyra.
Such was the way of Westeros.
The Targaryens followed ancient rules: Valyrian blood first, internal marriage second, and only then alliances with other great houses.
For Rhaegar, the list of possible brides was painfully short.
"Yes, Father," Prince Aerys interjected. "At present, the only other suitable candidate is the Dornish princess's daughter. Elia Martell—older than Rhaegar, but with dragon blood. Though," he added with a faint grimace, "she will carry a distinctly Dornish temperament."
Prejudice still lingered, despite Dorne's integration into the realm.
At the mention of Elia Martell, Rhaegar's heart stirred uneasily.
How many lives were tangled in this? he wondered. How many wrongs were already written?
If judged purely on closeness, loyalty, and bloodline, a Baratheon girl would be the first choice. Yet the Martells also carried Targaryen blood.
This time, Rhaegar thought quietly, the Lady will give birth only to Robert the Hammer… won't she?
He merely smiled faintly, offering no opinion.
After all, this was the course history had set.
But he had already changed parts of it.
Would history still obey its original path?
Rhaegar's thoughts drifted to one of his ancestors—Aegon IV, the so-called Unworthy King.
Many claimed his countless children were born of nothing but lust.
Yet Rhaegar suspected there was more to it.
Aegon IV chose women from many bloodlines—Blackwood, Valyrian remnants from Lys, even Braavosi courtesans. Was it foolish indulgence… or deliberate design?
Perhaps Lord Bloodraven's writings held the answer.
For now, the realm was peaceful.
And in 262 AC, joyful news spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Lady Baratheon gave birth to healthy black-haired twins.
The boy was named Robert.
And the girl was named Roberta.
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