A Soldier Adrift: Captain Westeros

“Who gave this to you?” Steve asked immediately. He took a seat at the table, setting in to work.

“It was already in the room when we arrived,” Brandon ground out, halting his pacing to turn to Steve. He made a short gesture to a tray of refreshments on the table. “There was a note on that tray telling us where to find it.”

“Whent?” Steve asked, pulling the bundle over to himself. It had already been rifled through, and put back together messily.

“No,” Jon said, dozens of thoughts passing behind his eyes, only half present in the conversation as he thought. “And the servant claimed the note was already present on the tray when they collected it.”

“How do you know it wasn’t Whent?” Steve asked, flicking through the rolls and scraps of parchment. The first piece was a bill of sale of some kind, dated to the tenth month of 281 AC, for a number of basic supplies. “It’s not to do with whatever message he passed you at the surrender, earlier?”

Ned reached into his surcoat and retrieved a crumpled letter - it was the same that Whent had given over earlier - and handed it over without speaking. There was an anger in the line of his shoulders, barely contained. Steve was quick to scan the letter.

‘I have received word from my men amongst Lyanna’s captors - they know they are in the Red Mountains, though not where. They have described it well, and I will soon divine their location.’

It was unsigned, but it was clear who it was meant to be from.

“So Whent passed you this message from Rhaegar, and then you receive all this,” Steve said, flicking through more of the bundle. Here was a statement of another sale, horses this time, and there an order for the royal mint to release an amount of new coin to one Jon Connington, a broken dragon seal marking it.

“There’s more on the other side,” Robert said, dropping his crushed goblet to the table with a thunk.

Steve returned to the short letter, flipping it over.

‘Previous messages have been intercepted or diverted. I feared this, and included harmless lies and misdirection in all. The one pure truth I have told is that Lyanna is safe.’

There was a final script telling of a hope that they would treat the writer’s ‘agent’ well, and Steve set it down, returning to the other bundle. “It’s plausible,” he said. He found a small cotton pouch that held a near pristine gold dragon, and another bill of sale for clothes for a young woman, this time from the twelfth month of 281 AC. “But this is painting a picture, too.”

“Not a pretty one,” Hoster said grimly. “We’ve kept Rhaegar’s outreach to us away from most, in fear of just this sort of thing.”

A scowl twitched across Brandon’s face, but he repressed it.

“Mmm,” Steve said, thoughts elsewhere as he agreed. “When exactly was Lyanna abducted?”

“The eleventh month of last year, when the moon was in its first quarter,” Ned said.

The tenth month was when the weddings had been hosted at Riverrun, and the twelfth was when he had had his little adventure in King’s Landing. The timeline being suggested by the evidence - circumstantial and tertiary as it was - was almost more damning for its lack of a smoking gun. Steve went through the rest of the bundle, and they let him, but it was just more and more records of a group or party of armed men supplying themselves, but with the occasional purchase that stood out as needful for a noblewoman. The purchases and accounts on their own did not stand out overmuch, but the use of newly minted dragons and another document signed by Connington did much to link it to the prince without outright proclaiming it.

“There was no signature, or anything to give away the sender,” Steve said, hoping that there might be something that a local would notice.

“None,” Jon said.

Steve tapped a finger on the table, eyes distant as he brought his thoughts together. “Four options then,” he said. “One, this is a lie from Aerys, and he’s trying to have us turn on Rhaegar by making it seem like he was the one to abduct Lyanna.”

“The most likely,” Hoster said, though from the unspoken reactions from the others it was clear there was some disagreement. “The Prince has nothing to gain from such a foolish action, and much to lose, especially if it were to come to light in the midst of this Rebellion.”

“Two,” Steve continued, “this was Aerys, but it’s the truth, and he’s trying to prevent Rhaegar from being able to succeed in whatever plan he has, or it’s to turn two of his enemies against each other as well.”

“He might want Rhaegar dead for dragging him into this,” Brandon said, dropping back into his chair, arms crossed and wearing a heavy scowl. “He has another son.”

The idea was anathema to Steve, but Aerys hadn’t exactly impressed him, even way back in their first meeting. “Three, this is another plot by whoever intercepted me in King’s Landing, and tried to have the hostages killed during our escape,” he said. “That still doesn’t make much sense for how everything else played out - if Aerys wanted this rebellion, he would have been more prepared for it.”

Jon blinked, and looked to Ned. “I had not considered that,” he admitted. “You raise a good point.”

“How would they know?” Brandon demanded. “There are very few who knew Rhaegar was reaching out to us like this, and to arrange for this evidence…”

“The missing messages could have provided this party what they needed to do so,” Ned pointed out.

“If there was a missing letter at all,” Brandon said savagely. “If Rhaegar is to blame for this, then it would serve him to seed such doubt to ward off future suspicions.”

“And the last?” Robert asked.

“Fourth, this is the plot of someone completely unrelated, possibly even an external actor,” Steve said.

“That seems far-fetched,” Hoster said, attempting to be diplomatic.

Steve raised one shoulder in a half shrug, unwilling to dismiss the possibility. “I’ve seen some unlikely things, and been blindsided by worse.”

“Something to consider should the other possibilities prove fruitless,” Jon said, though it was clear that he too found it unlikely.

“I’m not familiar with most of the places mentioned in all this. Do they point to anywhere in particular?” Steve asked.

“Some few documents are from King’s Landing, but most of the sales are from Dorne, or the southern Stormlands,” Ned said, though he made a doubtful gesture with one hand. “If it can be believed, they point to a location in the Red Mountains, close to the Dornish Marches.”

“Aye,” Robert said, anger flavoured by anguish. “They do. I was so close.”

It wasn’t a part of the nation that Steve was all that familiar with, but he knew that the Red Mountains were a range that divided Dorne from the rest of the continent. The fact that the evidence pointed to the same region that Rhaegar had named was something, too.

“It is a lie, a trick by Aerys,” Hoster argued. “The sheer stupidity, not just on Rhaegar, but by Aerys to claim to have her - no, it is a trick.”

“Would you gamble if it were your daughter?” Robert demanded.

A vein pulsed in Hoster’s temple. “I would not fall for-”

“It matters not if it is Lyanna or if it were Catelyn,” Brandon broke in. “We will respond all the same.”

“Hightower is positioned to punish us for it,” Hoster said. “You know this.”

“He is,” Jon said, playing the peacemaker, “but as we discussed, sending an army is not our only option.”

Steve felt the attention of the room turn to him, simmering disagreements put aside for the moment. Some of the discussion had felt like retreading old ground, but it seemed that they had come to something of a decision before summoning him in the first place. “You’ve got an idea,” he said.

“We can’t-,” Robert cut himself off, raw and frustrated over being in a meeting, far from his betrothed. “If there’s any truth to this, we don’t - will you go south and rescue Lyanna?”

Steve sifted through the evidence again as he thought, searching for smaller details this time, taking in each piece and judging it against the others, examining handwriting and the condition of the parchment and ink it was written with, looking for folds and rolls and wear and tear that might tell a tale, anything at all that might speak to him.

“By your deeds, you are the only one we think might succeed,” Ned said, filling the air. “Elsewise, we would have to defeat the armies between us and Dorne before a group could hope to make it.”

“I’m not unwilling,” Steve said, continuing to sift. He found no simple tells, nothing that betrayed the collection of evidence as manufactured. “But as much as this all could be Rhaegar’s fault, it could just as easily be Aerys trying to send some of you off into a trap. I’d bet my last dollar that he’d expect Brandon and Robert to charge off without a second thought with some noble friends, where they could be caught and turned into hostages on getting news like this.”

“You are correct,” Jon said, ignoring the disgruntled looks on the two named faces. “Yet the information demands a response, and when Rickard hears of this he will not wait to march south. Given the information Lord Whent has given us, this would leave the Northern army exposed.”

“We will go with him, of course, but that leaves Maidenpool at our backs, free to foul our supply lines and harry our lands. One army cannot properly guard such a swathe of lands,” Hoster said, taking up the thread. “It is why I argue that Aerys is to blame for this. It reeks of his Spider, and that Essosi eunuch is not to be trusted.”

“It could be Aerys and his Spider and still be true,” Brandon argued, voice starting to rise. “If there is even a chance that Lyanna is here-” and he jabbed his finger at a map on the table “then I will not wait to take action.”

“The truth of it does not change the reality of our position,” Hoster argued back. “Maidenpool will take time to sack, time that we do not have if we respond with-”

“Hold on,” Steve said, interrupting the Lord Paramount. “‘Sack’?”

Hoster let out a harsh sigh, annoyed at again retreading old ground. “This is war. In war, battles are fought, men die, and towns are sacked. There is no avoiding this.”

“Yes,” Steve said bluntly, “there is.” He looked over the lords, seeing little agreement. “You just don’t want to.”

“Lord America,” two voices came, one sharp and one warning, Hoster and Jon.

Steve ignored them. “Look me in the eye and tell me you can live with what your soldiers will do to the people in that town if you sack it,” he said, looking from man to man. There was no give in him. Not for this. He didn’t care how self righteous they thought he was being.

“War is war,” Hoster said. His brows were furrowed harshly. “A lord learns what orders will not be obeyed.”

For a long moment, there was a pause, like a breath before a hurricane, as Steve held his tongue. There was an ultimatum on the tip of it, a warning of where he would stand if he witnessed their men being given free reign over civilians, but there was nothing productive down that road. Instead, he wet his lips and looked between the three younger men in the room. “There’s a merchant’s daughter in Maidenpool somewhere, worrying about the soldiers hanging around her father’s shop, and fearing news of your soldiers coming to her home. Of what they might do to her, given the chance. I want you to picture her face.” There was a moment of confusion at his apparent diversion, but then he leaned in. “Now imagine Lyanna in her place.”

Robert slammed a fist into the table, helpless rage on his face, but it was not directed at Steve, and he was looking at the ground. Brandon’s fists were white knuckled, and Ned was cold and blank.

Hoster was less restrained. “What would you have us do?! The tales of your homeland settling disputes with champions is fanciful, and not possible here. You do not understand-”

“Lord America,” Jon cut in smoothly. “Do you offer another path? Lord Hoster is not wrong when he tells you that in war, some things are unavoidable, no matter how much we might seek to try. We must simply resign ourselves to their existence, lest even more blood be shed in the avoidance.”

Steve had thoughts on such a stance, but voicing them would achieve nothing. “I will take Maidenpool for you,” he said instead. “I’ll take it in a day, and there won’t be a single civilian casualty.” His tone was mulish.

Hoster scoffed, disbelieving. “It cannot be done. Even in Gulltown there were deaths.”

“If someone came to Riverrun and held a knife to your throat, what would your men do to save you?” Steve asked him.

The river lord hesitated. “You- no such threat could reach me, or any lord in his castle under siege and holding an army.” He shared a glance with Jon, perhaps remembering an evening by the Kingsroad and an uninvited guest in a tent. “Not even you.” His words were strong, but his tone was less so.

“What about Lyanna?” Robert demanded, his doubt coming from another path. “Maidenpool might only be a day, but the journey is still weeks that she is hostage, weeks longer than she has to be.”

“The longest way round is the shortest way home,” Steve said. “Doing things right is more important than doing them fast. If this is all a trap,” he gestured at the bundle of parchment, “then by taking Maidenpool, most of the sting is taken out of it.”

“Save for the trap itself,” Jon said, expression pointed. “Losing a knight such as yourself to whatever waits in the Red Mountains, not to mention those that go with you, would be a blow.”

“If it’s a trap, at least we would get some information out of it,” Steve said. “There’s bound to be someone involved who knows something.”

“Don’t let it be said that Lord America lacks confidence,” Brandon said, a hint of amusement showing through his frustration.

“Confidence is a strength, overconfidence a weakness,” Hoster said, grumping, his lips pursed. “Jon is correct; once the Spider learns that Brandon and Robert remain with the army, it is an easy guess as to who else we would send, and even the Dragonknight would fall to a dozen men.”

“The numbers they would need would make the trap obvious,” Robert said, shaking his head. “No, I have fought beside Steve as none of you have. The men might think the tales to be tall, but they don’t even tell the full truth.”

There was still doubt in the faces of the older lords, but their manners kept them from pressing.

“What if we made this public?” Steve asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “If we frame it as Aerys turning on his heir, would that weaken his cause?” He considered what he had learnt of Westerosi politics and its posturing. “Rhaegar would have to respond, too.”

“It could force him to take a stance beyond quiet words delivered by secret ravens,” Ned said, nodding slowly.

Hoster’s interest was likewise piqued. “That is…certainly something to consider. A schism amongst the loyalists would see the war won.”

“It would greatly depend on the truth of the matter,” Jon said. He shared a look with Hoster, and something passed between them. “Not a step to take lightly. We would have to discuss it in depth, and certainly not without Rickard.” Unsaid was that ‘we’ would not involve Steve, and perhaps not even the younger lords present.

“Maidenpool, then,” Steve said. “And after that, we make the best choice we can based on what we know then.”

“Aye,” Brandon said, decisive now that a path had been laid before them.

Not all were as satisfied.

“But you are going, yes?” Robert asked. “After Maidenpool, you’ll ride south for the Red Mountains? For Lyanna?”

“I will,” Steve said, committing to the path. The Red Mountains were a big place, but the evidence had given them a place to start once there, and there was always the chance that Rhaegar would narrow in on his own search, if he was telling the truth. He looked to Robert, and the Stark brothers. “I’ll find her.”

“We’ll hold you to that,” Brandon said. There was trust in his voice, but also a lurking warning.

Steve paid it no mind. He knew what he was capable of, and his mind was elsewhere. “If Rhaegar is to blame,” he said, “then why? Hoster is right; what does he stand to gain?”

“A well watered heart tree,” Brandon said, derisive.

“Nothing,” Hoster said. He made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“The crown,” Ned said quietly.

“What?”

More than one voice had responded, and now all looked to the young Stark.

“It is unlikely,” Ned said, “and would leave the Targaryens weakened and at a disadvantage, but if we were to depose Aerys and he were to emerge, having rescued Lyanna, he would take the crown.”

“He would have the crown anyway,” Robert scoffed.

“Not if he had fallen out with his father.”

“You think Aerys might have planned to disinherit him?” Jon asked. He drummed his fingers on the table. “If it were so, it may answer who is to blame for the ambush on escaping the Red Keep.”

“Surely not,” Hoster said. “If it ever came out, the dragons would be wiped out to the last.”

“I don’t know, Ned,” Brandon said, frowning in thought.

“It is unlikely,” Ned repeated, “and would require a dozen more unlikely plots to go with it. But it is not impossible.”

“Very nearly,” Hoster disagreed. He shook his head. “It matters not. We ought to focus on that which we can affect, not that which is out of our reach.”

“Aye,” Jon said, “I agree.” He gave Hoster a nod, leaning forward to take in the map on the table.

Hoster likewise leaned in. “Maidenpool is one thing,” the river lord said, and the look on his face spoke clearly as to his doubts as to Steve’s chances of achieving what he claimed, “but what of after? Your company is too large to make it to the Red Mountains through kingdoms stirred to war, but you can hardly go alone.”

Privately, Steve thought he could, but he had to admit that keeping Lyanna safe after retrieving her would be more complicated if he did.

“Robert and Brandon cannot afford to go,” Jon said, giving Robert a look as only a long suffering father figure could, and the stormlord grumbled.

“I can’t afford to lose Ned, either,” Brandon said. “Not with the battles yet to come.”

“But you would have your pick beyond that,” Jon continued. “It would be best if you could choose men from all of our kingdoms, but that is a secondary concern.”

Steve nodded slowly, understanding the reasoning behind it. He would need a small group, fighters all, who would understand the risks and fight as they needed, not as they wanted, and more importantly, would follow his orders. He tapped a finger on the table as he thought. “There are a few from my company I’ll take. Three or four with useful skills,” he began. Robin for one, and while he could take either Kel or Walt he was leaning towards Kel because he was going to give her the renown to earn a knighting and she would just have to accept it. He was also considering Osric given the young man’s potential, and given his promise to Ren it would be good to take her too. “I can think of a Stormlander or two I’d be happy to have with me, as well as a Valeman, but I don’t know as many Riverlanders or Northmen, if Ned and Brandon are out of the question.”

“Which of my men did you have in mind?” Jon asked.

“Yohn Royce,” Steve said.

Whatever the lords had been expecting, it was not that.

“Lord Royce?” Jon asked, blinking as he leant back. “He is seasoned, certainly, but…”

“He impressed me at Harrenhal,” Steve said.

“Should he accept your invitation, he would have my leave,” Jon said, thinking it over. “His son is present, and is ready for further responsibility.”

“And mine?” Robert asked. “Beron or Thomas, aye?”

“Beron,” Steve confirmed. “I think it would be good for Lyanna to see some family with us.”

Brandon nodded, thankful. “Who else?”

“Elbert is a good sort,” Steve said, but Jon was frowning.

“I would rather keep my heir close to hand,” he said, “and the Vale is well represented through Yohn.”

“That’s fair,” Steve said. He looked to the Starks, and Hoster. “Did you have anyone you’d like to put forward?

“My brother,” Hoster said abruptly. “Brynden will serve you well, and there are few who can track men as well as he.”

“You can spare him?” Steve asked.

“Now that we’re moving into the Crownlands and not fending off dozens of small raids, yes,” Hoster said. He nodded to himself, confirming his decision. “I still cannot reconcile your age with your appearance,” he admitted, “though knowing that your peers are men like the Blackfish and Bronze Yohn helps.”

The Stark brothers were considering their own options.

“Walder?” Brandon suggested.

Ned shook his head. “Howland.”

“Aye,” Brandon said after a moment. He looked to Steve. “Howland Reed.”

“We’ve been introduced,” Steve said, thinking of the slight man and the conversation they had had at Goodbrook Keep. “He seemed steady. Anyone else?” That was nine counting himself, though he hadn’t fully settled on which of his own people he would take.

The lords all shared a look, and none seemed dissatisfied.

“A group of nine, then,” Jon said, “to ride to the Red Mountains and retrieve Lady Lyanna, or to spring a trap.”

“A fine fellowship,” Steve said, unable to help himself.

Robert was already rising to his feet. “I mean to ride out early in the morning. The sooner we get to Maidenpool, the sooner Steve can ride south.”

Agreement came quickly, each lord present feeling the strain of tiredness, though some more than others. The evidence that had been secreted to them was carefully collected and entrusted to Jon, and they left the room behind, each knowing that there was still more business to see to before they could retire.

Steve’s thoughts ranged further still, considering Maidenpool and how he might hold to his promise. Some would call it a boast, but he knew what he was about, and he wasn’t going to stand by while a city was sacked. He had several ideas, and one even featured the instrument from home that he was on the verge of completing. By the time they reached Maidenpool, it would probably be ready to use, and it would certainly make the foe sit up and pay attention if nothing else. Thinking about it brought a faint smile to him, although as he retired to his room, alone, it faded, and not only due to Naerys’ absence.

Maidenpool was one thing, but he knew where the war was leading, and a sack of a city like King’s Landing was something else entirely. A looming worry lingered over his thoughts as he drifted off.