In the small council chamber of King's Landing, the atmosphere occasionally grew heavy.
At present, there were four people in the room, each differing in appearance and age.
These four were also the most powerful figures in Westeros, holding the present and future of the realm in their hands.
Lord Ormund Baratheon was a burly warrior with a beard, black hair, and black eyes. King Jaehaerys II had large purple eyes and shoulder-length hair; he was pale, frail, and aged beyond his years.
Then there was the first heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Aerys: confident, ill-tempered, and charismatic. And his son, the second heir, Prince Rhaegar, with his silver hair and indigo eyes.
Silver hair and purple eyes were the mark of the Valyrian dragonlords, though the "purple" could range from violet to lilac to deep indigo.
Jaehaerys II was lost in thought, and Lord Ormund seemed equally pensive.
According to the letter from Ser Gerold, House Tarbeck and House Reyne were now utterly extinct.
With the Westerlands unified, the power of House Lannister would recover instantly, for the foundation Ser Gerold had laid for them was solid as rock. With the Reynes uprooted, no secondary lord in the West could block their path.
Rhaegar looked at the King and the Hand, knowing their hearts held a mix of joy and worry.
Joy came from the friendship Tywin shared with Aerys and Steffon; a stronger House Lannister would further cement the existing alliance of Dragon, Lion, and Stag.
The worry stemmed from Aerys, who seemed neither tolerant nor benevolent, and somewhat mediocre, while Tywin was a man of iron will. Conflicts might arise in the future. What happens between a weak lord and a strong vassal? Only the Old Gods could say.
"That boy Tywin did a beautiful job," Prince Aerys said. He seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation, or the criticism about to fall on him.
"Ser Tywin is not just your vassal, but your friend. Furthermore, you should show respect and courtesy to the Heir of the West," Lord Ormund interjected suddenly.
"And take your lecherous eyes off Joanna. If it happens again, I will send you to live in a motherhouse of the Silent Sisters," King Jaehaerys snapped, his voice harsh and sudden.
"As Crown Prince, do you think your conduct is fitting? You betray your wife and your brother-friend, hopping about like a foolish goose. At your age, Tywin has already been decisive, suppressing a rebellion."
"And you? Your eyes are always fixed on women's skirts, perfume, and smiles. Do you think those women truly love you? Or do they love the crown, the power, and the throne you possess?" The King's voice grew sterner.
Aerys's handsome face turned red as raw liver, as if someone had pierced his heart and lungs. He had harbored such thoughts, but no one had ever dared criticize him so openly.
"I! I!" Prince Aerys stammered, his face flushing, but he dared not shout back.
The scene was excruciatingly awkward.
Facing his uncle and his father, who was both his mentor and the ultimate authority, he could only nod in submission.
Rhaegar felt a secret satisfaction, though he kept his face smooth. He was too young, or he would have liked to slap Aerys hard for his mother's sake.
Ser Tywin was Aerys's friend, and Lady Joanna was Rhaella's distinct companion. To covet her was despicable. Moreover, Joanna's father had died for the realm in the Stepstones. Of all people, why offend her?
He had heard many rumors of his father Prince Aerys's dalliances in King's Landing.
There were always those who flaunted themselves before the Prince, hungry for courtly glory, most of them young girls. And the Prince indulged himself freely.
Seeing matters turn sour, Lord Ormund knew he had to intervene. Besides, it was better to speak less of such things in front of the child.
So Lord Ormund stood up, smiling. "I think that is enough. Why don't we share some good news? Steffon is going to be a father soon, and I can hardly wait. I hope it's a strong boy, though a girl would be fine too."
"Rhaegar, this news concerns you as well," King Jaehaerys II added. A smile finally broke across the King's face. If the lord's wife bore a daughter, she would almost certainly become Rhaegar's betrothed.
The marriage of an heir to the Iron Throne was rarely a matter of choice.
Though it was early for a betrothal, even when Rhaegar came of age, the pool of candidates for his queen would be limited.
Unless there were special circumstances, the blood of House Targaryen rarely flowed outside the family; this was the Valyrian tradition they inherited.
Years ago, a Targaryen princess and an Arryn lord had produced a daughter, Aemma Arryn, who later married back into House Targaryen and gave birth to Rhaenyra.
This was marriage in Westeros; born into an age of noble houses, autonomy in love was a rare luxury.
House Targaryen mostly followed historical rules: Old Valyrian dragon blood, internal marriage, or, if absolutely necessary, taking a daughter from another great house.
Internal intermarriage was best; if that failed, introduce dragon blood from elsewhere.
Though Rhaegar was still young, the candidates for the young prince's bride were limited to a handful of families.
"Yes, Father. The only suitable girl for Rhaegar at the moment is the child of the Princess of Dorne. The Princess is also Rhaella's close friend, her daughter, Elia."
"The Martell girl is older than Rhaegar, though she does have dragon blood. But the girl will surely carry a heavy scent of Dorne," Prince Aerys interjected, frowning at the mention of "Dorne." Though Dorne had integrated with the other regions, many still held prejudices against the Dornish.
Hearing the girl's name, Rhaegar's heart skipped a beat. I was so sentimental, and hurt so many people; they must laugh at me. He didn't know how to face it; perhaps they wouldn't get along at all.
Considering friendship, affection, practicality, and the concentration of dragon blood, if House Baratheon had a daughter, she would absolutely be the first choice. The Martell girl was older, though she too possessed dragon blood.
This time, the lady should only give birth to Robert "the Hammer," Rhaegar thought.
Hearing the elders speak like this, Rhaegar just chuckled lightly.
He wasn't panicked, because this was the pre-set script.
But he had already changed parts of history; he wondered if history would continue to shift.
Rhaegar suddenly thought of his legendary ancestor, the "Great Sower of King's Landing," the mediocre King Aegon IV.
He had many children, and everyone said it was out of lust.
But Rhaegar felt there might be another story behind it.
He should find time to carefully reread the autobiography of Lord Bloodraven; the lord should know his father well.
If one said Aegon IV wasn't picky, he certainly had countless affairs, even contracting the pox.
But if one said he was picky, this ancestor often chose women with special bloodlines, seeking maidens from different regions and lineages across the known world.
House Blackwood followed the Old Gods; Daemon Blackfyre possessed pure dragon blood; he even dallied with Braavosi courtesans and impoverished Valyrian nobles from Lys.
He seemed to have engaged with women from every corner of the known world. was he truly foolish? or was he playing a carefully orchestrated game?
In 262 AC, the realm seemed at peace.
That year, good news arrived: Ser Steffon's wife gave birth to healthy, black-haired, black-eyed twins, a boy and a girl.
The boy was named Robert. The girl was named Roberta.
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