12 Crows , Stones and Black Stars

The moment Brandon unsheathed his sword chaos descended upon the tourney.

The two Kingsguard's closest to the field unsheathed their blades. Ser Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent stepped into the tourney arena, whilst Jonothor Darry and Lewyn Martell kept close to their king. Brandon ran forward, towards some of the most dangerous men in the seven Kingdoms.

The King finally stopped his laughter, but Cregan could tell that that would do very little to stop the fury of the wolf. He'd climb the stands and get into the royal box if the gods allowed him.

Cregan ran towards Brandon, desperate to tackle him to the floor and stop him from getting killed, or perhaps worse, somehow surviving and committing regicide.

Things didn't truly degenerate into madness until the first Crossbow bolt flew through the air. It narrowly missed the heir to Winterfell, and instead hit the ground. But it was still enough to declare war. Screams and cries rung out amongst the crowd, as they scrambled to flee.

Brandon roared probably the most bestial sound Cregan had ever heard from a man's mouth, full of wrath and sorrow.

Arthur Dayne rushed towards the heir to Winterfell. The Skagosi stopped as the two began to duel. Unarmed, the high lord of Skagos couldn't hope to stop Brandon now. He turned desperately to search for a weapon. Varymyr Stane ran through the stands and threw him a weapon, before jumping over the guard and entering the battle. Cregan ran forwards and picked up the sword from the ground, only to grit his teeth when he realised it was his blunt sword Leviathan.

The Lord of Skagos turned, narrowly dodging another crossbow bolt. One aimed for him, who had so far done nothing wrong.

Cregan sparred an evil glance to the crossbowmen high above in the stands, surrounded by fleeing lords and ladies, but he was too far away to fight. Cregan had to save his future lord. So instead he ran and leapt into a fight with the most dangerous swordsmen of his generation.

Brandon blocked a swing from the sword of the morning, but Dawn dug into his castle steel longsword as if it was made of little more than copper. Brandon simply snarled and head butted the kingsguard, who's lack of helmet turned out to be a mistake. Still, the attack only momentarily distracted him, and with a great cleave he ripped the sword out of Brandon's hand. The Longsword flew through the air, actually impaling some poor fleeing lord in the stands.

Arthur Dayne prepared to bring Dawn down onto the heir to Winterfell. He swung down, but the blade only connected with the Meteoric Iron sword of the Lord of Skagos.

Cregan's eyes widened in actual surprise that Leviathan did not break under the attack, as did the Sword of the Morning. But such surprise didn't last long, as with almost inhuman quickness Arthur Dayne broke out of the block and swung again and again. The lord of Skagos decided to simply step back rather then try and block or engage the Sword of the Morning, as did Brandon Stark.

Cregan was in a fight for his life, desperately trying to dodge and block every swing of Dawn, and barely holding on. There wasn't a single moment where Cregan could counter-attack, he was fully on defence. Dayne was as quick with a greatsword as most men were with short swords. Every attack that connected with Leviathan shook him. Arthur Dayne decided to end the fight and lunged. Cregan would've died there and then had Brandon not dragged him back to he floor, Dawn narrowly flying over his head.

Magnar rolled away as fast as he could, passing Leviathan to Brandon Stark with a throw. Arthur Dayne glanced between the two men, before settling on fighting the man that had been rushing towards his king with hostile intent.

Cregan took a moment to look around, and noticed a poorly armoured but hammer wielding furious lord rushing towards them. Robert Baratheon had entered the field. As had a bunch of Northern and Stormlander Lords.

Most ran through the dirt, but Cregan did noticed one or two attacking the Crossbowmen in the stands. Cregan saw the king being escorted away by his two closest Kingsguards.

Dayne and Oswell had to die, then they had to get out of here.

Cregan rushed towards Arthur Dayne again, this time without a weapon. Brandon was holding his own this time, surviving the blows and attacks of Dawn. Leviathan couldn't kill a man in plate, but the Meteoric iron could block Dawn.

Arthur Dayne wasn't an idiot though, and in one smooth motion he deflected an attack by Brandon and swung towards Cregan, stopping his attempt to wrestle him to the ground.

The high lord of Skagos stepped back to get out the range of the swing, and just as quick as he had swung Arthur had brought Dawn back under his control, blocking another swing from Brandon.

Robert charged in, swinging his hammer around like it weighed nothing, with inhuman speed and savage grace. Arthur Dayne blocked the blow with Dawn, but even the sword digging into the head of the war hammer meant little, the mass and power of the swing unbalancing the sword of the morning.

Cregan charged again, fighting three on one against the sword of the morning.

Cregan used his memories from another life and rugby tackled the distracted kingsguard to the floor, before rolling off him. There were no words or gloating as Robert simply swung his hammer right down upon Arthur Dayne's face. His skull cracked and exploded, blood and brains flying out beneath Robert's hammer. Cregan wiped his face clean of Arthur Dayne's blood, catching his breath for a moment.

Robert held out his hand and wordlessly Cregan accepted it, getting back onto his feet. As he rose Cregan picked up Dawn.

Several knights were marching towards them, Cregan couldn't make out their colours, but since Robert and Brandon were getting into defensive stances he guessed they weren't friendly. Cregan tapped Brandon on the shoulder and held out the Sword of House Dayne to him. Brandon nodded, and handed back the ancestral sword of Clan Magnar, trading it for the Ancestral blade of Dayne.

The three of them readied themselves against Seven knights, fully armoured.

______________________________

They rode as fast as the could away from Harrenhal. Fugitives from the King's justice now.

Robert, Brandon, Eddard, Stannis and Cregan were at the head of the column, the entire Northern and Stormlander delegation.

The sun was beginning to set, but stopping wasn't an option. They had left most of their small folk hangers on, their washerwomen, their guards. The Ladies and younger lords had followed, it had been a close thing. They would not stop until they were well away from that accursed Castle.

The five of them had ridden in complete silence. Brandon in a angry silence, Eddard and Robert in a more sorrowful one. Cregan and Stannis had stayed silent because their lives depended on it.

But they would need to talk game plan eventually. Brandon had just committed treason, and whether they liked it or not the four of them were going to go down with him.

Conspicuously and very worryingly absent was Jon Arryn. Robert and Eddard had almost tried to find him after the chaos, but Brandon and Stannis pointed out they simply didn't have enough time.

What's was also as terrible was their causalities. Before the Greatjon had brought him down Oswell Whent had killed Duncan Liddle, Ser Robar Grandison, William Dustin and Ser Ronnet Connington. And other had died from other knights and Crossbowmen. Boros Blount escaped northern justice via a crossbow bolt to the neck.

Much to Cregan's fury, Howland Reed was nowhere to be found. The boy had some explaining to do.

A full lit of the dead hadn't been made, as they were rather in a rush to get the hell away from Harrenhal.

Where they were going to go was anyone's guess. One part of Cregan argued Riverrun, but whether Lord Tully would be filling to enter an alliance with them against the war soon to come was unknown. He may well hand over Brandon and Robert to the king. The Vale was similarly off limits. Going to Storm's end meant going south, either pass King's Landing or Harrenhal, both terrible ideas. They could catch a ship from Maidenpool or Saltpans, but they were North of Harrenhal now, and turning back would risk death. So it seemed they would head to Moat Cailin and prepare.

But nothing had been discussed aloud. For now they followed Brandon Stark, perhaps to their death.

Stannis had other ideas though.

"Do we have any sort of a plan?" Asked the heir to the Stormlands. It was the first word the five of them had spoken since they rushed out of Harrenhal.

The three other lords turned to Stannis.

"Moat Cailin. We will gather the north." Said Brandon eventually, tightening his grip on Dawn, now strapped to his unicorn.

"30,000 men against the rest of the realm?" Said Stannis.

"We have allies." Said Robert simply.

"Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully? Both of them might not come to our side." Stannis pointed out bluntly. "We have no ties with them."

Cregan scratched at his injured arm, a scar left from a blade poorly bandaged.

"Stannis." Growled Robert in a low voice, but Stannis refused to capitulate.

"Lord Stannis is right." Said Eddard. "Hoster and Jon... We have no ties of allegiance." No one wanted to point out that now, with Lyanna strapped to a horse far behind them, that their were no true ties of allegiance between the Lords of Winter and the Lords of Storms.

"We fight." Said Brandon bluntly. "At Moat Cailin we will have Ravens. Send them to your regent. Gather your storm."

"What are we to do? What is our war?" Asked Eddard.

"Depose Aerys. They say he is mad, burning those he accuses guilty. Rhaegar can become king." Said Eddard.

"The realm will not follow us." Said Stannis. "Who has Aerys killed but merchants and peasants. No lords."

That was the short of it. Stannis cut to the heart of the matter. Aerys had yet to prove himself beyond cruel, beyond mad.

"We must bring Hoster to our side. Once our forces are gathered I shall marry Catelyn, as we had agreed." Said Brandon.

Eddard and Cregan were surprised at this. It showed how angry Brandon was that he was willing to go into this political marriage.

"And if he refuses?" Asked Stannis with an raised eyebrow.

"Jon Arryn will follow us." Said Robert. "He has been as a father to me."

"And what of it? Do his vassals see you as his heir? Do his vassals hate the King?" Asked Stannis. "Has the Vale suffered because of the Dragons? Jon Arryn isn't your father. Our father died in Shipbreaker bay Robert."

Cregan tuned out.

Cregan turned his gaze to a rising moon. And turned away. The moon was a messenger of foul grey words. Three eyes or two, someone would try.

"Should Jon Arryn join this war you seem intent to start Lord Brandon his realm will descend into chaos. The North may follow you. The Stormlands may follow Robert." Said Stannis bluntly. "The Vale will not follow Arryn."

"You dare...!" Brandon began to growl.

"I dare." Stannis repeated bluntly. "We should surrender to the King, submit ourselves to his justice."

"He'd kill us all." Said Robert.

Thousands will die because we don't want to die. Thousands will die because of my failing.

"Robert is right." Said Eddard. "Only death awaits us if we surrender."

Brandon swore under his breath.

"We have heirs." Said Stannis. "Renly will rule the Stormlands. Your younger brother..."

"My brother!" Shouted Brandon angrily, turning his fury to the Stormlord, who barely flinched. "He is going to the wall. Only the stain of kinslaying is staying my hand on that whelp!"

"I have only Eddard now." Said Brandon after he took a breath. "No more. My father and Eddard are my only living family."

"Benjen..." Eddard began, earning Brandon's ire with a fiery gaze.

"Benjen is dead to me." Said Brandon, his tone cutting off all possible dissent. "He will head to the wall and spend the rest of his life staring North. He will die there. So long as I live he will never return to Winterfell."

"There are only four Stark's left Brandon." Said Robert. "Wait until we survive what is coming."

"Three is enough." Said Brandon.

"Robert is right Brandon." Said Cregan, breaking his solemn silence. The lords turned to him. "If Benjen goes to the wall then so should I."

Brandon's eyebrows raised.

"No. You stay here Cregan. You've proven yourself one of the most loyal vassals I could have. You tried to stop this... Madness." Said Brandon.

"And failed." Cregan replied coldly. "Lyanna's death is on my hands. My fingers run with blood."

"No... Fine. Benjen stays in Winterfell until me or Eddard has a son. After that he is going to the wall for the rest of his life." Said Brandon.

Cregan nodded.

"Let's talk militarily." Said Cregan. "Ignore what ifs and politics right now. How many men can the north and Stormlands gather? How many ships? Can we keep these armies supplied?"

Brandon sighed, then thought on this question.

"The north can send maybe thirty thousand men. But it would take months to get them to Moat Cailin, the most convenient place to muster. Unless you have a fleet up your sleeves Cregan we have no warships. Skagos has never really supplied men to a war... How many can you bring."

Cregan sighed, then replied honestly.

"Almost none. Maybe 700 infantry total, and 200 unicorn mounted cavalry. Anymore and we'd risk population collapse or rebellion. My cunt of a vassal would threaten rebellion. My ships are few and just fishing boats in truth." Cregan replied honestly.

Brandon sighed then turned to Robert and Stannis.

"And the stormlands?" He asked. Robert opened his mouth to speak but he paused, so Stannis stepped in for him.

"At most 30,000." Stannis replied curtly.

"So... Sixty thousand men against the rest of the Kingdoms?" asked Brandon.

"We are fucked." Said Robert, scratching the back of his head.

"We need the Vale. We need the Riverlands." Said Eddard.

"We need the..." Cregan was about to say the Ironborn, but that wasn't going to happen. None of them had any ties to the Greyjoys.

Cregan cursed himself. His actions were going to cause a worse war than Robert's Rebellion and he couldn't even really help solve it.

He couldn't bring in any allies or....

A idea gestated in his head. A vague one, but one all the same. He'd have to see if Jon Arryn would support them but...

"Regardless... Nowhere is safe till we are north of the neck. Let's get there as fast as we can." Said Brandon.

The men sighed and continued ever Northwards. Towards death.

_________________________

Lyanna was buried upon a hill a few leagues north of Moat Cailin. Her final rest observed by the lords of the North and Storms, including an inconsolable Rickard Stark. Despite Eddard's pleas and Cregan's reasoning in his fury the Lord of Winterfell sent Benjen directly to the wall. Benjen said his final goodbye to Ned, but Brandon refused to see him, and refused to let him go to Lyanna's funeral.

The stormlords promised to aid them in war, and most of them went off to White Harbour to catch a ship to Tarth, where they would then spread out and gather their forces. Their part in the war wasn't certain until a letter from Kingslanding arrived at every castle in Westeros.

Brandon read it aloud shortly after Lyanna's funeral.

To all Lords of the seven kingdoms. For the crime of attempted regicide, conspiring to commit treason and the murder of Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard the following people are to submit themselves to the King's justice and make all haste to Kingslanding.

Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell and the North

Brandon Stark

Eddard Stark

Benjen Stark

Lord Paramount Robert Baratheon of Storm's End and the Stormlands

Stannis Baratheon

Lord Cregan Magnar of Skagos

Should anyone be found to be protecting these individuals or should they fail to submit themselves to justice before the next full moon they shall be declared enemy's of the crown, and it would be the duty of all men of the Seven kingdoms to do them harm. All who align themselves with these traitors shall suffer similar fates.

Signed

King Aerys Targaryan II

Lord Owen Merryweather

Wisdom Rossart

Lord Symond Stautnon

Lord Lucerys Velaryon

Grand Maester Pycelle

Lord Varys

After that it became very clear that it was either fight with their lieges or suffer. Cregan was surprised his name was actually on the list of those wanted for execution. Showed some very good intelligence on Varys part. Cregan reminded himself to kill the eunuch the moment he saw him. Petyr was one thing, he hadn't done anything wrong yet. The eunuch had already gotten blood on his hands.

"We should send a letter to Jon Arryn." Said Rickard Stark. Rickard was holding a war council of the North. Brandon, Eddard, Rickard Karstark, Wyman Manderly, Roose Bolton, Greatjon Umber, Roderick Flint, Robett Glover, Jeor Mormont and Cregan Magnar were all members of this council, seeing as all of them ruled over other lords in the north.

"Him and I have been planning our treason for years. As has Hoster Tully. The events of Harrenhal have scutter many of our plans, but we had once made them. We may bring the Vale to our side." Said Rickard.

"We hold several sons of the Vale in the north. A Royce or two, some Waynwood spares." Said Roose in his cold quiet voice.

"It's a start." Rickard said with a nod.

"A civil war in the Vale is inevitable." Said Cregan. "The Grafton's are likely Aerys loyalists. They may wish to put a compliant Arryn of Gulltown in the Eyrie."

"Makes sense." Said the Greatjon with a nod.

"That cuts off the largest naval force we might possibly be able to gather." Said Rickard.

"No... There is another." Said Cregan. He leaned on the round table and pointed at three islands in the gulf between White Harbour and the Vale.

"Lord Sunderland and I have talked. He may well be willing to help us. The sisters have a small fleet." Said Cregan.

"What does he want in return?" Asked Rickard.

"My sister." Said Cregan. "For his eldest son."

"Done." Said Rickard, which caused a few looks from around the table, but none commented on it.

"There is another force at my disposal." Cregan added. "For a few months now my vassal Lord Whaleborne has been in talks with the company of the Rose, a mercenary company he has marriage ties to. They are poised and ready to fight this war."

"You're telling us you got a mercenary company from Essos ready for a war months in advance?" Asked Robbet Glover accusingly.

"An inevitable war." Said Cregan, straightening his back as he spoke. "One most of knew was coming sooner or later."

"Indeed." said Rickard. He glared at Cregan. "We don't have enough coin to support our levies, feed our people and hire mercenaries."

"Land is abundant in the North. Offer a few Lordships and..."

"What are they, the Golden company!?" Greatjon asked angrily.

"If we all survive this and win we can take the New gift from the Nightswatch. They can't even farm or support it anyway. Give it to some exiles. " Cregan offered.

"Be silent." Said Rickard with a glare. Cregan opened his mouth to talk, but then closed it and simply nodded.

"Not a terrible idea. What is their force size?" Rickard asked.

"3000 infantry, 700 light cavalry and 300 heavy." Said Cregan off the top of his head. "All blooded from a recent conflict in the disputed lands."

"Where are they right now?" Asked Rickard.

"Bravos. Waiting for an offer." Said Cregan.

"I consent. Tell them we can afford them. We'll sort out the hows when the war ends."

Cregan winced, not paying mercenaries was never a good idea.

"Anyone else? Or is the Skagosi Savage truly the only one who was ready for this war?" Asked Rickard. Cregan winced at the wording. Brandon certainly didn't, but the Lord of Skagos worried if Rickard thought he had planned this whole thing.

"There's feud going on between the Wulls and the Flints of the mountains. Don't expect the mountain clans to gather." Said the Greatjon.

"I didn't. Too distant." Rickard said simply.

"I've confiscated some Ships in White Harbour. Not many, but we could get a few hundred men into the Vale or further afield." Said Wyman Manderly.

"Could they make a trip to the Stormlands?" Asked Rickard.

"A few could." Wyman replied. Rickard nodded.

"Robert is surrounded by enemies on all sides. Keeping the Stormlands in the fight and on our side is crucial." Said Rickard. "Once your Levies are fully raised they will all make haste to the stormlands."

"None of them are war ships my lord. Pirates could take them out, never mind the royal fleet or the Reach." Said Wyman Manderly.

"That's a risk we shall have to take." Said Rickard honestly.

There was a pause as the Lords of the North considered just how desperate the situation was.

"What about the Riverlands?" Asked Brandon to his father.

"You will marry Catelyn Tully as soon as possible. The contract is signed." Said Rickard. Brandon nodded.

"If he refuses?" Asked Ned.

Rickard sighed and closed his eyes. After a moment he reopened them.

"Then I shall offer Brandon to Lord Tywin for his daughter. And release Jaime from the Kingsguard." Said Rickard.

"Tywin thought he could marry Cersei to Rhaegar. He might not go for the heir to the cold North." Said Wyman Manderly.

"The offer is there. Hoster is the only other high lord with daughters of age to marry right now. Hoster is going to be the linchpin to whichever alliance forms. I've been talking to him for months, he should join us." Said Rickard.

There were nods around the table, then a silence fell upon the council.

"Anyone got anything to add?" Asked Rickard. Everyone shook their heads.

"Right. Gather your levies and bring them with all haste to Moat Cailin." Said Rickard simply.

The Lords of the north nodded.

"These war will decide the survival of the Seven kingdoms. We are fighting to bring down a mad tyrant and install a gallant and rightful king. We will prevail." Said Rickard. The lords mumbled their agreement and made to leave the solar of the tower. One my one they made their way through the door.

"Not you lord Magnar." Said Rickard. Cregan's blood ran cold and his breath caught in his throat, but he nodded, not taking his eyes off of the door. Eventually all the lords of the north left the room, leaving only him, Brandon and Lord Rickard Stark.

Cregan turned around slowly to face the lord of the North, who all of a sudden looked beyond tired.

"We haven't spoken since your return." Said Rickard. Cregan simply shook his head, not able to speak.

"In all my nightmares, I never imagined the tourney going like this... The war is happening too soon. Lyanna was..." Said Rickard. His words similarly got caught in his throat, and Cregan could make out his reflection in his liege lord's tired eyes.

"Lyanna was always headstrong. I thought Robert a good match for her, the two were similar in that regard." Said Rickard. Cregan kept any comments on that firmly to himself.

"But this... Cregan." Rickard stared right at Cregan.

This is it. I'm being sent to the wall. I'm going to have my blood cover Ice.

"Brandon told me everything. That you tried to stop this madness. That you saved his life against Arthur Dayne. I want you to know that you have gained my respect. You might well have proven yourself the first Skagosi to ever be loyal to Winterfell." Said Rickard.

"Your fate is tied with ours now. This piece of paper proves it." Said Brandon, holding up the letter from the king.

"That paper also ties the Baratheons for us. It is little consolation, but the king's madness has at least done that." Said Rickard.

"Almost as if it was designed to do so." Said Cregan. "His master of Whispers is a clever man, he'd know what such a letter would do."

"You believe him to be a Rhaegar loyalist?" Asked Rickard.

"No idea." Said Cregan with a shrug.

Rickard took that answer at face value.

"Do you believe Rhaegar will turn against his father?" Asked Cregan. In a past life that hadn't happened, but the circumstances were utterly different this time.

"I don't know. Rhaegar should be going to Dragonstone to rule as it's lord. He might not be in his father's grasp. Ostensibly we are fighting to put him on the throne." Said Rickard.

"Ostensibly?" Asked Brandon and Cregan.

"... What I'm about to say does not leave this room. Do you two understand?" Asked Rickard. Cregan gulped but nodded. And with his and Brandon's consent, Rickard began.

_______________________________________________________________________________

This whole thing had been a complete debacle. He thought that Aerys coming to the tourney was bad enough, but this...

The daughter of the Stark's dead. That was actually solvable. The culprit was dead, and he had absolutely nothing to do with this.

But then... That bastard had to laugh. He had to display just how mad he was, just had to insult one of his lords. A pretty grave insult.

Rhaegar ran a hand through his silver hair, pulling the strands from his eyes. And then the letter. This could have been resolved peacefully. Aerys could have simply apologised, then taken hostages, maybe that Stark spare Eddard and the Stormlord's brother.

Instead, his small council had agreed with him in demanding their heads. All of them. At least half of them were innocent of any wrong doing. You might only say that Lord Baratheon, the Stark heir and that wildling were the only ones guilty of any actual crime. But his damnable father was demanding the extinction of one of the oldest family's in Westeros.

Rhaegar rested on the bed, closing his eyes to the world. He was too stressed to play his silver harp. He'd find his calm in his dreams. Elia no longer shared a chamber with him. His night terrors were getting worse after their daughter had been born. He'd calmed down around the tourney, and she had been willing to try for his prince once more. For some reason the dreams turned from ice and fire to wolves and leaves, to calm. To a girl with grey eyes and a cold heart. But the nightmares had returned in full force when the Stark girl died.

It took a while, but eventually Rhaegar found the inky darkness of sleep consume him.

He saw it. The beast that had haunted his dreams for as long as he had remembered. A pale white dragon, with feathery wings. It flew around and around Rhaegar, watching him with it's one eye or three.

The Dragon's eye stared at the silver prince, golden. But soon, the amber bleed, until his eye turned to blood, contained behind a thin film of a shiny membrane.

Rhaegar took a step forwards, and looked down. He stood atop a tall tower, far above the world below. So far that he couldn't make out people, or buildings or anything. The ground merely a great plain of burning grass.

The Dragon turned quickly in mid-air, and Rhaegar moved back to try and get out of it's way, but the top of this tall tower was far too small for there to be room for both he and the dragon.

But no dragon landed. Instead, a dark crow with one eye landed upon his shoulder.

"King. King. King." The Crow cawed. The dragon above roared, but the Crow refused to move, didn't even flinch.

"King. King. King" It repeated.

Rhaegar felt the claws of the bird dig into his shoulder. Rather than the sharp pain of a falcon's claws digging into flesh, or the light touch of a sparrow landing on him as had happened when he played his harp, the sensation felt more like the Crow's feet were being suctioned to his shoulder. Like the grip of some great sea beast.

The Dragon roared again, but still the Crow refused to move.

"Mad. Mad. Mad." It cawed this time, blinking it's one eye.

Rhaegar looked into it's one black eye, and saw the sea within. It's waves and currents, the whoosh of spray. And something within that sea.

The Dragon flew away, it's hind leaking blood behind it. He hadn't seen how it had been wounded.

With a groan to his right some of the cobblestones atop the tower began to crack and creek. His eyes widened as the stones suddenly exploded from within. The dust and stones seemed to pause in mid-air, a frozen explosion. When Rhaegar reached out to touch it they moved, forming the outline of a man, shrouded in dust, stone and water. The Crow cawed again.

The stone man turned to Rhaegar. It didn't have a face, or any distinguishing features, but somehow Rhaegar saw his father. He felt his mad laughter. He heard his fathers biting touch.

Rhaegar stepped back, the crow still refusing to loosen it's grip on his shoulder. He stopped just short of the edge, his back to the open air. The moon shone upon it, but then, in front of that a great explosion appeared in the midday sky. At first it was a brilliant display of light, of fire and warmth. But quickly the flames burnt out to mere cinders. The light dimmed, and eventually the shadows grew, until the moon was completely covered by a black star.

Somehow he could feel the Stars eyes fall upon him. He felt rust dig into his brow.

All the stars shining in the midday sky began to fade, one my one. Turning to dust In the end, the sun finally died out too. Only the black star shone.

The three figures were staring at him, the one eyed crow on his shoulder, the shrouded figure of stone and dust, and finally, the black star.

"Listen. Listen." Cawed the Crow.

The stone figured reached out to Rhaegar. The prince stepped back. The stone touch was death, he knew that was certain. When he had flinched the figure retracted his hand. He would not risk trying again Rhaegar knew.

"Aerys. King. Die. Rhaegar. King. Die. Aegon. King. Live" Cawed the Crow.

The other figures repeated this. The Stone shrouded one in a language of water, of peace and love now gone. The black star was the worst one. His was of blood, of death. Of cold and kinslaying. It spoke the tongue of eldritch things, of shadowed places.

He heard in it's strange tongue of a place beside a lake. Where cloud waves would break. Where the shadows could only lengthen.

The crow's eye furrowed, and once more it opened it's beak.

"Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower? No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap?" The Crow said, his voice as sweet as saltwater. "They call him Kinslayer. Kingslayer."

Rhaegar stepped back, away from the black star, the stone man, but the Crow kept it's tight grip on his shoulder.

When Rhaegar awoke, the sky was still pitch black. It was a starless night tonight, the moon long gone. Could there be black stars in that sky, and he simply could not see them?

It mattered not. The dream had been obvious. The meaning clear.

Rhaegar stretched briefly, the reached for his sword. In the dying candle light he could make out the ruby on it's hilt, reflecting the orange glow.

The realm will understand. They will call me a hero for what I do. In time.

A mercy. Aemond had once done it. To save the realm.

His mind made up, the hidden black star illuminating his way through the corridors of that blood keep, Rhaegar began to make his way to his father's chamber.