[right][h1]Casterly Rock[/H1]
[Sub]Collab with [@Apollosarcher][/sub]
[/Right]

Old gods or new gods - Rhaena didn't know who to curse or thank for what had unfolded. A widow of barely weeks and she had agreed to wed again. The marriage agreement was a small price to pay…if she ever had to pay it. Meraxes save her, did she even want to return from Oldtown? 

The thought sank like a stone, down to her gut. Her ladies had grown distant, even when they joined her in the evening and held her as she sobbed in her sleep. She did not shed tears while awake but at night, in deep unconsciousness, the princess was inconsolable. Come the morning, they scattered to corners of Casterly Rock to prepare and plan for her wedding. 

Loreon would announce it at his Triumph, where Rhaena would already be on display. They had scoured her surviving trunks and seamstresses had worked day and night to have a dress for her fitting the occasion. The princess had wanted to wear her ceremonial armor but had, finally, been convinced otherwise.

She stared at herself in the full length looking glass. The gown was beyond compare, though Rhaena could not find joy in it. It was deep crimson silk edged with black lace along the sleeves and neck. The top of it was rigid against her chest and abdomen, made to look like armor but with none of the protection. A farce, a lie, but effective nonetheless. A deep golden cloak was clasped on one shoulder with a golden lion and the other an ebony dragon. She'd had a metal worker fashion a slim crown of dark steel and had it set with a trio of rubies. It was a delicate balance between supporting her uncle’s claim to the throne and reminding the Lords that she was the former king’s eldest child. It was a game she hated being thrust into but she was no child who thought she could win by not playing. She'd bide her time, play this role, and destroy those who had gutted her heart and left her broken. 

Or die trying. 

It was time to take her place at Loreon’s side in the procession. She wasn't sure what had swayed him to this, nor did she mind that his companion, Kinvara, joined them. Let the woman see to his needs and leave her be. Rhaena did not trust her though, there was a keenness to her eyes that the princess found unsettling. The crowds they passed through were boisterous in the celebration though it was immediately clear not all celebrated. Rhaena could not help but be reminded of the angry eyes and whispers she had suffered with Aegon. It was here too, just below the surface no matter the food and wine and coin that flowed the streets and uplifted lords and smallfolk alike. 

The mood turned, Rhaena thought, surely from more of the traitorous Poor Fellows who must have infiltrated the crowds and urged them to violence. When the dam broke, it broke in a fury. Darkrobin whisked her away with no mind to how the Lord Paramount would escape. It was not the kingsguard’s concern. The escape was a blur, he had grabbed her, hard, around the waist, when a man in the crowd below their dais had thrown mud - she told herself it was mud no matter the smell - though it had missed and instead splattered against her slippers and Loreon’s boots. There had been only time enough for her eyes to connect with Loreon’s before she felt herself pulled away. An apathetic fear took hold and Ser Darklyn needed to handle her roughly for her feet to move before he gave up and picked her up. She thought she had heard him apologize. When they were at last safely behind Casterly’s walls she was astonished to see her skirts in shreds. Her slippers were gone, her stockings filthy. 

The Mercenaries had arrived at Casterly hours ago, encamping but on alert the Company of the Rose were known to have fought for Dorne, Targaryens, and more over the years. With men and women of all faith in creeds serving side by side in the company they were rarely greeted with open arms in the Kingdoms. With the tension in the air they had set sentries and kept the men on alert, peasants across the countryside had been moving about with Septons preaching to their flocks. Branwyn and Alyswyn were wearing their full regalia as Northern nobles of house Stark here to give condolences. The pair of the oldest Stark children towered above most of the soldiers in full armor with house sigil on their cloaks and the symbol of the Company of the Rose on their tabards Branwyn a few inches taller than his sister but both cut an imposing figure, Alyswyn with her bastard sword at her side and shield on her arm. Branwyn with Ice upon his back as they watched the arriving nobles. 

Their arrival had of course foretold but with the events of the day and preparations little notice had been paid to the coming of the mercenaries who had come to pay respects to Rhaena loss while searching for work. While Branwyn had not known them personally it would save his father the trip and of course perhaps help him learn about the coming rulers if he was to one day rule the North. However, upon the sight of Rhaena’s arrival he could frown at how the people here had treated her, leaning towards his sister he spoke softly. “Seems the town is worse than we thought... Throwing shit at Princess... They say we’re barbarians, at least we don’t bother throwing our shit at people, we just hit them.” 

Alyswyn turned her head and covered her face a bit at her brother’s joke, flushing herself shaking her head before knocking him in the shoulder. “Don’t be an ass...” She spoke with a soft smile at her brother. “Now let’s get ready to make introductions.” They spoke as they started to move towards the recently arrived Princess, a handful of their officers behind them. Barthor and Artyn had been sent out into the city to learn of the goings on and find them information, spies and scouts were good for that sort of thing not to mention they knew how to play the part of whoever they needed to be to get the information they sought. So long as you reminded them the whoring and drinking came after the fighting.

The Kingsguard had been calling for ladies to see to Rhaena’s health and needs when he saw two figures approaching. He'd known that noble mercenaries had arrived. The Princess would have needed to meet with them had all of this not happened. Now though? While his charge had been spirited back to safety? He trusted no one. Seven, he hated this realm. 

“No closer.” He barked out with a mailed hand held up to stop them. No matter their house, no matter who they were, in this situation he'd draw his sword if pressed. 

Alyswyn couldn’t help herself. “We are of House Stark,” she gestured at the cloak with the direwolf sigil as if he were blind. “Perhaps you have heard of us? Pray to old gods, beat Southern armies at the neck, smart enough to not fight dragons?” She took another step just to prove she could as she gave a wink at the Kingsguard. “We came to give condolences... Though it seems like you might need our sword arms instead.” Her teasing unending it seemed, she enjoyed riling up knights and nobles few knew how to take a lady in armor seriously.

Branwyn shook his head and pulled his sister back a step, praying they weren’t about to get into more trouble. “Branwyn, heir to Winterfell and that loud mouth is Alyswyn Stark, Ser knight. My sister is correct though I have come offering condolences and if you request it... The services of ten thousand men and women, for the right coin of course.”

He took two steps forward in response, a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Respectfully, my lord and lady, I don't care who you are right now.” He blocked the path towards the Princess and scanned around him for any of the Lannister castle guards. Men had poured out past them in raising a response against the rioters. 

Ladies had come running to attend to Rhaena, but she pushed them and their ministrations away. She was alive, still…yet. “See Darklyn, that's enough.” Her voice was hardened but she softly touched his elbow in her approach behind him and peered around him towards the Starks. 

What a mess she was, her locks that had been pulled and tousled to nest the crown were wild now. She felt the slim thing slip around and pulled it out, her fingers gripped it at her side. “You and your men are well rested I take it? Here.” She tossed the crown at their feet, it thudded lightly against the ground. “A down payment for your services. Ensure my betrothed is escorted back to safety, quiet the smallfolk, and find me the instigators. They are, undoubtedly, men of the Poor Fellows or septons who encouraged this violence.” She frowned deeply. “I don't think House Lannister men will be much help with finding those men of faith.” 

Alyswyn before could finish scooped up the crown and stepped close to her. “We don’t take payment till the work is done. Second, it looks better on you than on the ground.” She stepped enough to place the circlet back in her hand. As Branwyn sighed, turned towards the gate, then his men who had come with him. 

“Right you layabouts! Find the Lion Lord and get him home safe. Corwain and Gwain, get your arses back to the camp and get the men together. Show these overdressed and over paid boys in red what professional soldiers can do!” Shouts came up, as the officers and the warriors of Alyswyn’s wolfpack moved to mount their horses. 

The lady warrior who had a moments ago handed back the princess her crown gave a whistle a great black charger pulling alongside her even in armor she gripped its neck and threw herself up onto it in a single motion. “You can sort out the Lannisters to pay for this while we get it all under control... It’s why you keep him around right? Reason us ladies with brains and spirits keep these lads around right, do what we want and pay for what we want.” Branwyn tossed her a helmet and pulled on his own. 

“Get the damn gates open, Wolfpack to the front!” Branwyn commanded as they watched Branwyn unsheath Ice, a massive hunk of Valyrian steel in the shape of a sword as the mounted mercenaries with Alyswyn at the head took up shields and arms. “We will be back before sundown with the heads to show for it.” He spoke, normally he would bargain but Lannisters were always good for gold and Targaryen’s tended to expect things done when they asked for them.

—
—

As evening turned to night and then to dawn, Rhaena received word at last that Loreon had returned safely as well as his lover and his kin. She did not rush to meet him. The riot had been quelled but streets and alleys had run with fire and blood before it was put down. The Princess had not slept, but spent the night pacing her rooms. If only she'd had Dreamfyre. With this much unrest, she grew concerned that the men she had been promised would be pulled back or that she'd be told to wait. There was no time, she needed to act. 

She'd argued with Ser Darklyn about the Stark company. He didn't like that she'd paid them to act on the riot, didn't like the idea for her to hire them to go to the Reach. He didn't say it so directly, but his attempts to divert her attention from it or to caution patience told her how he really felt.

It didn't matter, she'd made up her mind. As the morning wore on she sent word to have Branwyn and Alyswyn Stark brought to her in a large study she'd been offered to use for any official capacity. Her eyes were dark from lack of sleep but she'd changed into a simple but fine black gown and had her hair simply plaited with the crown Alyswyn had returned to her. It was not so odd to see a woman geared to war. Not to Rhaena at least, who grew up on the stories of her grandmother and great aunt’s exploits. But it seemed odd to see any other house be so at ease with it. Perhaps the north really were a different sort of people. 

She waited for them to arrive, the Darkrobin stationed behind her and just as sleep deprived. More pointedly, she had not notified Loreon, perhaps it would be a first sign of how their marriage would be, but she cared little for that. She should have sent word back to Dragonstone or King’s Landing, but that could wait as well. She played with fire and knew it. 

The pair entered in armor still, an evening of violence and a night of hunting had given the company plenty of trouble yet they stood here uninjured though she could tell they had not yet slept. Alyswyn folded her arms as she leaned on the wall, as Branwyn entered and gave a bow. “We have cleared the Poor Fellows out from the mob. Skillfully avoiding a massacre if I do say so, they seemed to form the backbone of the riot. While the Septons were preaching we had to detain and haul them away... They gave little resistance after we smashed their soldiers.Turned them over to the guards to hold in the dungeons... We thought you’d prefer to deal with them yourself.” Branwyn stood upright now coming up from his bow as he looked at the Princess.

“After we cleared the streets and sent most of them home we let the Lannister men take over. Seems they may be good for more than decoration after all.” Alyswyn added as moved to stand beside her brother. “At least fifty dead soldiers of the faith and a couple dozen Septons locked away.” She smirked, clapping her brother on the back.

“And in a moment we will discuss the matter of the bill... And whether this is going to be a continuing contract. We can have it formally written later but for now... I have brought you something. Not as a mercenary... But as someone who knows the weight of the loss of family, and whose family is loyal to your house and name.” He turned and opened the door, two young men entered carrying a vase with blue roses, winter roses had only ever grown in the north. “Barthor and Artyn, my brothers were sent north to fetch these and meet us here when it was done. They are a gift from House Stark... One rose from each member of the family. I wanted to present this first as the reason we came was first and foremost to grieve and pay our respects.” He spoke as the two men, clearly his brothers and even Alyswyn moved forward all four taking a knee before her.

“House Stark, the men and women of the North who Aegon spared when two men showed great wisdom instead of great violence. We all offer our sincere condolences for the death of a good man who ought to have lived.” He spoke slowly and carefully, though she could feel the pain in his voice. “We... We have all known the pain of losing siblings too soon, ones we cherished and loved.” He added before all four rose, she would note tears welled in each sibling's eyes yet they did not shed swallowing it back down. 

Rhaena winced at the gesture but quickly regained a more stony expression. It erupted in her mind though, unbidden and unwelcome memories of the attack and of his dying breaths. Aegon, her heart ached, her stomach turned. “You have done well.” She managed at last, her voice squeaking through it to avoid the hitch of emotion. “And I thank you for this gesture.” The princess paused, her youth briefly on display as her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her fingers delicately ran over the flowers, tenderly, a moment longer in thought of what her father would have done and the frown returned. 

“Stand.” It was a soft command. “House Stark were loyal and true supporters of my family and I am glad to see that is true still, no matter that you are for hire. You must have heard that my uncle has taken the throne.” She paused, eyes intensely on the four wolves before her, though she lingered over Alyswyn. Brash and bold, perhaps it was necessary for any woman who chose to don armor. “The Faith seeks to destroy us and everything we have built. In the North, you must feel this as well. Their…disdain for your old ways and beliefs. We,” she paused again, as if to second guess speaking for her uncle, her king, but pushed on, “we have need of your services still. Lord Loreon will need his men and some of yours to maintain the peace here a while longer. I will need you and your men for my journey to Oldtown.”

Alyswyn nodded first as she looked at Rhaena a moment before looking at her brother. “I’ll go to Old Town with you. I am a good commander but better fighter, never met a man I couldn’t leave in the dirt bleeding. Branwyn is who you want for thinking and planning things, never had the head for it.” She offered to step closer to Rhaena as she smiled, the girl reminded her of her younger sisters trying to keep it together even when they had not the years to know what all they should do.

Branwyn sighed and nodded. “I can work with Lord Loreon here if that is what you need... However...” He noted the young woman’s exhaustion and he’d caught the pain in face and couldn’t help sighed. “I won’t take advantage of your youth, your exhaustion or your grief by negotiating prices while I have such an advantage. The lowest I can do is thirty-thousand golden dragons enough to resupply my soldiers and pay them enough for what has to be done. As long as you’ll pay that much we can hold these talks when you are rested. For now, our band is yours here in the Westerlands and to travel to the Reach.” Barthor and Artyn stood and grabbed at the brother, thinking it madness but he silenced them with a wave of his hand before they could protest aloud.

“So please, rest well and when you are ready we will discuss terms with both you and Lord Lannister for full payment, terms, length of service, and more.” He paused for a moment and then added. “Should you need more than we could offer, I can reach out to Winterfell, though I would caution it may take time to organize the troops you need.” He explained as he gestured for the others to leave.

As they began to file out, Alyswyn who had been watching Rhaena closely slowly stepped forward to the desk and opened a pouch on her belt drawing out a vial. “Here, Dornish sleeping tincture, used to take a lot of these. The heat was murder trying to sleep in.” She spoke, setting it on the table as she turned to start towards the door. “Call on us any time after... We're paid for now.” She spoke, of course mentally she knew it wasn’t about the heat that she’d need the medicine for... It was to stop the nightmares, over ten years of fighting and traveling she had seen things she might never forget, sometimes that tonic was the only thing that kept her from awakening dagger in hand.