Chapter 24:

[The grand entrance hall of the Red Keep bustles with servants unloading luggage as the royal family returns from Harrenhal. King Aegon VI stands with his pregnant wife Queen Rhaella, their expressions stormy. Their children and in-laws form an uneasy semicircle around them, the tension thick enough to cut with a dagger. Young Prince Viserys fidgets nervously while clutching his mother's skirts.]

Aegon VI: (pinching the bridge of his nose) "By the Seven, Rhaegar, what possessed you?"

Rhaegar: (standing stiffly, still in tournament armor) "It was a gesture of respect for the Knight of the Laughing Tree's valor."

Cersei Lannister: (snorting into her wine goblet) "A gesture that's set half the realm whispering."

Daeron: (elbowing his wife sharply) "Not helping, dear."

Elia Martell: (quietly, her Dornish accent thick with hurt) "You crowned another woman before your own wife and princess. Before the mother of your child."

Alyssa Baratheon: (leaning against a pillar, arms crossed) "And Robert's betrothed no less. Our dear cousin looked ready to strangle someone with his bare hands."

Stannis Baratheon: (grimacing) "He nearly did. Took four men to restrain him from storming the stands."

Rhaella: (rubbing her temples) "We've enough problems without you creating new ones, Rhaegar. The council already favors Daeron's boys over your line."

Daemon: (grinning wolfishly) "Oh come now, mother. It's not like he bedded the girl. Just publicly humiliated his wife and insulted House Baratheon in one stroke."

Ashara Dayne: (smacking her husband's arm) "You're not helping either."

Aegon VI: (leveling a stare at Rhaegar) "You realize you've given Robert Baratheon legitimate grievance against the crown? After we worked so hard to bind Storm's End to us through Alyssa's marriage?"

Rhaegar: (defensive) "Lyanna Stark deserved the honor. She rode better than half the knights there."

Cersei: (muttering) "And we all know how you feel about women who ride well."

Daeron: (groaning) "Seven hells, woman."

Elia: (voice trembling) "While I lay abed in King's Landing, too weak to travel, you were playing at romance with some Northern girl?"

Rhaegar: (turning to her) "It wasn't like that!"

Alyssa: (dryly) "It never is."

Viserys: (tugging Rhaella's sleeve) "Why is everyone shouting?"

Rhaella: (smoothing her youngest son's hair) "Because your brother has the political sense of a blind hedgehog, sweetling."

Aegon VI: (pacing) "We'll need to smooth this over. A formal apology to Elia. Gifts to Sunspear. And someone needs to placate Robert before he does something stupid."

Stannis: "Good luck with that. He's probably halfway to Storm's End by now, breaking every piece of furniture he comes across."

Daemon: (grinning) "Send him a new chair. With padding."

Aegon VI: (ignoring him) "Rhaegar, you will not leave the Red Keep without my permission until this blows over. And you will attend every Small Council meeting from now on."

Rhaegar: (protesting) "But my research—"

Aegon VI: (slamming his fist on a table) "Enough with your damned research! You're the Crown Prince, not some maester's apprentice!"

[A tense silence falls. Even Viserys stops fidgeting.]

Rhaella: (more gently) "Your father's right, dear. The realm needs to see you as heir, not..." She gestures vaguely at his scroll-filled pockets.

Elia: (quietly bitter) "And perhaps if you spent more time in my bed than the library, we wouldn't be in this position."

Cersei: (smugly patting her own flat stomach) "Some of us don't have that problem."

Daeron: (through gritted teeth) "I swear to the gods, woman—"

Aegon VI: (clapping hands together) "Right! That's enough family bonding for one day. Everyone to their quarters. Except you, Rhaegar. You're coming with me to draft apologies to half the realm."

[As the family disperses, grumbling, Rhaegar stares longingly at the library tower before trudging after his king. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon's mournful cry echoes across the city.]

[The king's private office is bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, the sound of quills scratching on parchment mixing with the distant roar of dragons. King Aegon VI sits behind his massive oak desk, fingers steepled, while Queen Rhaella reclines on a cushioned chair nearby, rubbing her swollen belly. Tywin Lannister stands near the window, his golden hair catching the sunlight as he examines a map of Westeros spread across the table.]

Aegon VI: (sighing deeply) "Seven hells, I haven't had to clean up this big a mess since Viserys tried to 'train' Fenrir by throwing raw meat at him."

Rhaella: (raising an eyebrow) "At least that only ruined one tapestry. Your heir has managed to insult Dorne, the North, and the Stormlands in one afternoon."

Tywin: (dryly) "Efficient, if nothing else."

Aegon VI: (glaring at a stack of raven scrolls) "Rickon Stark's last letter practically froze the ink. Robert Baratheon has apparently smashed every piece of furniture in Storm's End. And Doran Martell... well, Oberyn has already boarded a ship to King's Landing."

Rhaella: (groaning) "Wonderful. The Red Viper coming to 'discuss' his sister's honor. Should I have the maesters prepare extra poisson antidotes?"

Tywin: (tapping the map) "We'll handle this systematically. First, the North - send Alyssa. She's half-Stark by blood, and Stannis has that wonderfully irritating habit of being right about everything."

Aegon VI: (nodding) "Good. She can remind Rickon that we're family. And take some of those tapestries from the Dragonpit construction - the ones with direwolves in them."

Rhaella: (smirking) "Bribing him with interior decorations?"

Aegon VI: "Call it... cultural diplomacy."

Tywin: "For the Stormlands, we send Daeron and Cersei. Robert might punch Daeron, but he won't hit a woman, even Cersei."

Rhaella: (snorting) "He might after five minutes with her."

Tywin: (ignoring the comment) "They'll take Baelon and Maekar. Nothing disarms an angry Baratheon like toddlers showing off their wooden swords."

Aegon VI: (rubbing his temples) "And Dorne?"

Tywin: (smirking) "Ah. For that, we use your famous Targaryen charm."

Rhaella: (dryly) "You mean we throw Rhaegar to the vipers and hope they don't kill him?"

Tywin: "Precisely. But first - a royal decree naming Princess Rhaenys as heir to Dragonstone, ahead of any future sons."

Aegon VI: (blinking) "That's... actually brilliant. It shows we value Elia's child above all."

Rhaella: (thoughtfully) "And it might just stop Oberyn from poisoning Rhaegar's wine at the welcome feast."

Tywin: "We'll also offer to foster one of Doran's children at court. Little Arianne would enjoy the capital."

Aegon VI: (grinning) "Between Viserys and Arianne, the Red Keep will either become wonderfully lively or burn to the ground."

Rhaella: (patting her belly) "At least the baby will have playmates."

[A loud crash echoes from the hallway, followed by Rhaegar's voice shouting about ink stains.]

Aegon VI: (sighing) "Speaking of children... should we check if he's set his apology letter on fire yet?"

Tywin: (dryly) "Better send a maester. And a bucket of water."

[The three share a rare moment of laughter as another dragon's roar shakes the windows - whether in agreement or protest, none can say.]

[The king's office is bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, scrolls and maps scattered across the table as Aegon VI, Rhaella, and Tywin continue their discussion. The door creaks open, revealing Elia Martell, her usually pale cheeks flushed with color, a small smile playing on her lips.]

Elia: (breathless) "Your Graces, my lord Hand... I have news."

Rhaella: (immediately rising, maternal instinct kicking in) "Elia? Are you well?"

Elia: (placing a hand on her stomach) "Better than well. The maesters have confirmed it - I'm with child again."

[A moment of stunned silence. Then -]

Aegon VI: (laughing in relief) "Seven blessings! This is the best news we've had in weeks!"

Tywin: (nodding approvingly) "A potential son would solve many of our succession problems."

Rhaella: (embracing Elia gently) "Oh my dear, this is wonderful! Have you told Rhaegar?"

Elia: (frowning slightly) "That's just it - I can't find him anywhere. I thought he might be here with you."

Aegon VI: (exchanging a glance with Tywin) "He was supposed to be writing apologies in his chambers..."

Tywin: (already moving toward the door) "Gwayne!"

[Commander Gwayne Hightower enters swiftly, white cloak flowing behind him.]

Gwayne Hightower: "Your Grace?"

Aegon VI: "Find Prince Rhaegar. Check the library, the dragonpit, even the bloody privy if you must."

Gwayne: (bowing) "At once, Your Grace."

[An hour passes with increasing tension. The maps are rolled up, then unrolled again. Rhaella fusses over Elia, making her sit while Tywin paces like a caged lion. When Gwayne finally returns, his expression is grim.]

Gwayne: "Your Grace... the prince is nowhere in the Red Keep. And three of my brothers are missing as well - Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, and Ser Oswell."

Rhaella: (hand flying to her mouth) "Seven save us..."

Tywin: (coldly analytical) "They wouldn't have left without orders. Or... without what they believed were orders."

Elia: (voice trembling) "You don't think... he wouldn't have gone after Lyanna Stark?"

Aegon VI: (face darkening) "My son may be a fool, but he's not that great a fool... is he?"

Tywin: "Gwayne, send riders to every gate. Check if anyone saw them leave."

Gwayne: "At once, my lord."

Aegon VI: (rubbing his temples) "Elia, my dear, perhaps you should rest. This news changes everything, but we need to find your husband before he makes things worse."

Elia: (standing stubbornly) "With respect, Your Grace, if my husband has gone chasing Northern girls while I carry his child, I want to be here when you find out."

Rhaella: (sighing) "She has the right of it, Aegon."

Aegon VI: (to Gwayne) "Double the guards on Princess Rhaenys. And send word to the City Watch - quietly. I won't have rumors spreading until we know what's happened."

Tywin: (muttering) "Too late for that, I fear."

[The distant sound of dragon wings flapping adds to the growing tension as the group exchanges worried looks. Somewhere in the realm, three knights in white cloaks and a silver-haired prince are riding hard - and the consequences may shake the Seven Kingdoms to their core.]

[The palace courtyard basks in the golden light of late afternoon, the faint scent of blooming roses mixing with the ever-present dragon musk. King Aegon VI paces near the fountain while his three eldest children lounge around a marble table, half-eaten platters of fruit between them. The distant roar of dragons occasionally interrupts their conversation.]

Daeron: (poking at a grape) "So let me get this straight - Rhaegar humiliates Elia, gets her pregnant as an apology, then disappears right when we need him to fix his mess?"

Alyssa: (leaning back in her chair) "That's about the size of it. Typical Rhaegar - creates a problem, then vanishes before the cleanup."

Daemon: (grinning) "Maybe he's finally taken up the life of a mummer. He's certainly good at dramatic exits."

Aegon VI: (stopping his pacing to glare) "This isn't amusing. We've got Dornish tempers flaring, Robert ready to storm the castle, and now-"

[Commander Gwayne Hightower and Varys appear at the courtyard entrance, their expressions grim. The spymaster's silks whisper across the stones as they approach.]

Gwayne: (bowing) "Your Grace... we have troubling news."

Varys: (hands folded delicately) "It appears Lyanna Stark has gone missing from Winterfell."

[A collective groan rises from the table. Alyssa's wine goblet clatters to the ground.]

Alyssa: "Seven hells! Uncle Rickon must be-"

Varys: "Furious, my lady. And already riding south with two hundred Northmen. But more concerning... Robert Baratheon has somehow gotten it in his head that Prince Rhaegar might be involved."

Daeron: (facepalming) "Oh perfect. Just perfect."

Daemon: (laughing darkly) "Well, he's not wrong, is he? Our dear brother does have a habit of disappearing when Northern girls are involved."

Aegon VI: (rubbing his temples) "Varys. Tell me you have some actual information. Not just rumors."

Varys: "My little birds report three Kingsguard were seen riding north... but no sign of Prince Rhaegar with them. Still, the timing is... unfortunate."

Gwayne: (grim) "Your Grace, we should prepare for Robert's arrival. He left Storm's End in a rage, and he's not coming alone."

Alyssa: (standing abruptly) "I'll talk to Robert. He's still my cousin, even if he wants to strangle Rhaegar."

Daeron: (dryly) "You might want to wear armor. And possibly a shield."

Aegon VI: (sighing deeply) "Call the Small Council. We'll need to-"

[A sudden, earth-shaking roar cuts him off as Fenrir swoops low over the courtyard, his shadow darkening the gathering for a terrifying moment before he climbs again.]

Daemon: (grinning up at the dragon) "Even Fenrir thinks this is a mess."

Aegon VI: (to Gwayne) "Double the guards on Elia and Rhaenys. And someone find Viserys before he decides this is a good time to 'practice' being king."

Varys: (smoothly) "Shall I prepare the black cells for when Robert arrives? Just as a... precaution?"

Aegon VI: (giving him a withering look) "No, Varys. We're going to handle this like civilized people. Not like... whatever madness Rhaegar's gotten himself into."

[As the group disperses, the dragons' distant cries seem almost mocking. Somewhere in the realm, a storm is brewing - and its name is Robert Baratheon.]