Walder Frey looked far less impressive than Kevan Lannister.
The latter shone in polished armor, full of vigor, while the former was old and feeble, unable even to bear the weight of his own armor.
"Look at that old fellow, probably one fart away from falling apart," a red-haired noble youth mocked, causing his attendants to burst into laughter.
He was Edmure, son of Duke Hoster.
Old Walder's ears twitched slightly, though it was unclear if he heard.
"I have brought two thousand men to aid the rebellion," Walder Frey announced.
Forty thousand men stood in the rebel army; his two thousand hardly warranted the same respect given to Kevan. Certainly, he would not have dared to attack King's Landing with just that small force.
"Oh, Marquess Walder, I believe you are late. Rhaegar's corpse is lying in the stables. If you have some free time, you might even find one of the rubies I knocked off him by the river," Robert quipped.
As always, Robert began by mocking before getting to business.
If Walder had brought his soldiers before the Battle of the Trident, perhaps Robert would have welcomed him without complaint. But now that he had already defeated Rhaegar and even gained the allegiance of the Lannisters, he had no reason to be polite.
"Haha, the tardy marquess, what a character, don't you think?" Catelyn whispered to her sister, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
She had a feeling that the title "Tardy Marquess" would follow old Walder to his grave.
Yet Walder Frey showed remarkable composure. He brushed off Robert's mockery as if it were nothing, or perhaps he had steeled himself for it long before arriving.
"Better late than never. I have brought not only soldiers but also supplies. I seek only to join the cause and destroy the mad dragon."
Of course, that was the polite way of putting it. In truth, Walder was also hoping to find two husbands for his many children. He had far too many—over thirty legitimate sons alone.
In the end, Robert accepted Walder's allegiance. After all, the war was not yet won; every extra sword counted.
Moreover, it sent a friendly signal to the Reach and Dorne, who still backed the Targaryens: Robert's rebellion was aimed solely at overthrowing the Targaryens, not at warring with the entire realm.
If the Reach and Dorne combined their forces, they could raise tens of thousands of men. To defeat them would take another bloody campaign.
Robert's personal prowess in battle was undeniable, but his skill at command was merely average. He had not forgotten how he had once been driven into hiding under a whore's bed by Jon Connington, the former Hand of the King.
Had Connington been less restrained by honor, Robert would have been dragged to King's Landing and executed a year ago.
There would have been no "today."
Now, even Tywin Lannister was willing to offer his daughter's hand in marriage.
After leaving the great hall, Robert and a few others brought Kevan to a secluded place to discuss the terms of their cooperation in detail.
"King's Landing holds half a million people. If the Mad King drives them all onto the walls, how can forty thousand men hope to take the city?" Eddard was the first to question.
No one present wanted to take King's Landing more badly than he did.
His sister Lyanna had been abducted by Rhaegar, and when his father and brother rode to the capital to demand her return, the Mad King had burned them alive.
No one hungered for Aerys's death more than Eddard.
"You need not worry about that," Kevan replied calmly. "Right now, the Mad King does not know we have joined the rebellion. We can trick him into opening the gates. Don't forget, Duke Tywin and the Mad King were 'old friends' for twenty years."
"You think tricking him will be that easy? He's mad, not stupid," Robert snapped.
"What difference does it make? Duke Tywin once served as the Mad King's Hand. He knows secret passages into the city. Moreover, Grand Maester Pycelle is on our side.
And we have hidden a force inside the city already. There will be no problem," Kevan explained as he stroked his golden beard.
"A hidden force?" Hoster looked surprised.
Hiding soldiers inside a city was no easy task. Judging from his tone, the number involved must be several hundred.
Had Tywin begun plotting the Targaryen downfall long ago?
"Our only condition is this: after we take King's Landing, Robert Baratheon—no, King Robert the First—must marry Duke Tywin's daughter." With the terms set, Edmure instinctively glanced at his good friend.
His eyes showed no reluctance, only anticipation.
They finalized the details for the assault. The Western army would march a day ahead, followed closely by the rebel main force.
Once King's Landing fell and the Mad King was dead, the Reach and Dorne would have no more reason to continue the war.
Peace would return to the Seven Kingdoms.
...
On Dragonstone.
At the same time, Rhaella was considering whether to arrange a marriage for Viserys.
Within Westeros, the options were few.
To marry the heir to the throne, the bride must at least be the daughter of a duke. Now, with House Targaryen on the brink of extinction, it could only be a duke's daughter.
That left House Martell of Sunspear and House Tyrell of Highgarden.
House Tyrell's Duke Mace seemed to have a daughter, though she was even younger than Rhaenys.
As for House Martell, Elia was already from that house. Another marriage alliance might seem redundant, mere icing on the cake.
Perhaps little Aegon could marry Mace's daughter?
As the only clear-headed adult left in House Targaryen, Rhaella bore a heavy burden.
"Mother!"
Viserys knocked at Rhaella's chamber door.
The mother and son had been on Dragonstone for two days now, and Viserys had already learned the state of the island.
There were still seventeen thousand troops stationed there.
They still had one hundred sixty-six warships.
Their food stores could last about five years.
Thanks to Dragonstone's special position within House Targaryen's holdings, the island had been carefully provisioned. Without the great storm that had hit before, they could have lasted two or three years even without resupply.
But that depended on keeping the fleet intact.
Originally, Viserys had intended to speak to Rhaella about the "dreamer's visions"—laying the groundwork to ensure the fleet could sail away before another disaster struck.
But seeing the sorrow on her face, he decided to wait a little longer.
Having occupied the body of her son, Viserys felt an inevitable emotional attachment to her.
Emotionally, he did not want this "elderly mother" to die after giving birth to Daenerys. Rationally, House Targaryen still needed an adult to lead and unite their remaining followers.
"How are you settling into life on Dragonstone?" Rhaella asked, forcing a smile when she saw him.
"I'm doing very well, Mother. I had a dream," Viserys said.
"Oh?"
"I dreamed you gave me a little sister. You taught her to ride a horse. The grass was so green it looked like waves, and the sky was so blue it looked like the sea..."
The picture Viserys painted made Rhaella's smile grow more natural, her mood visibly lifting.
"Did you dream what your little sister's name was?" she asked.
"Yes! In my dream, you called her Dany!"
"Dany?" Rhaella raised her eyebrows. "Dany, Dany..." She repeated the name over and over, liking it more with each repetition.
"Very well! We shall call her Dany. What about Daenerys? How does that sound?"
"It's beautiful!" Viserys said with a bright smile.
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