The sudden appearance of three Kingsguard cast a shadow over the newly established dynasty.
When the defeated Redwyne fleet limped back into port, the entire city of King's Landing lay gray and bleak beneath a shroud of rain.
"What?! The Sword of the Morning?!"
Robert, seated at the head of the royal council, remained as brawny and imposing as ever. Though he wore robes of fine silk, the scent of iron and leather still clung to him.
He hadn't expected a grand victory, but such a devastating loss tested the limits of his patience.
Especially when of the two thousand men he had dispatched, fewer than two hundred had returned. Seated at his left, closest to him, was his foster father, Jon Arryn.
He, too, struggled to make sense of the current situation. Why hadn't the Kingsguard appeared at the pivotal battle on the Trident?
Why had they instead surfaced now on Dragonstone?
That battle had turned on Robert's use of his warhammer to fell Rhaegar. Had it been Ser Arthur Dayne he had faced that day, the outcome of the rebellion might have been very different.
In fact, Rhaegar alone, backed by just two Kingsguard, had already forced Robert into a grueling fight.
If there had been three Kingsguard—among them the legendary Arthur Dayne—the tide of victory would have surely turned.
On Robert's right, Eddard Stark also appeared troubled by the new development. After a moment of thought, he said, "The most likely place they were hiding was Dorne."
Eddard meant that once Dorne surrendered, the truth behind this mystery would finally come to light.
What worried him more now was Lyanna's continued disappearance. He still had no idea where Rhaegar had hidden her.
"Those damned fools. Why swear fealty to a madman? To a rapist?"
Frustration boiled over in Robert's voice as he slammed a fist on the table. If not for Ser Gerold and the others, his forces might already have taken Dragonstone.
"Your Grace, they were only loyal to their vows." Ser Barristan Selmy, now captain of Robert's Kingsguard, spoke quietly.
Robert glanced at him, snorted, and held his tongue, though it was clear he had much to say.
At the Trident, Barristan had been gravely wounded and later spared by Robert, who had personally ordered his treatment. In gratitude, Barristan had chosen to pledge himself to the new king.
It was Ser Gerold who had personally placed the white cloak on his shoulders.
Robert deeply trusted the character of Gerold and the other former Kingsguard.
Yet when Barristan learned that Gerold and the others had not only reached Dragonstone but also repelled the Redwyne fleet, he had been wracked with guilt.
He saw himself as a traitor.
But Robert had saved his life. He owed the king a debt. That left Ser Barristan the Bold torn between duty and honor.
"So what now?" Robert asked. "Do we sit here waiting for the dragonspawn to return one day and take back everything?"
"Redwyne only recently swore allegiance," Jon Arryn replied. "Though the Kingsguard joining the fight was unexpected, he likely didn't give his all. The crown must begin building its own fleet."
It was a logical suggestion—one that had occurred to everyone present. But building a fleet required vast sums of gold.
The Targaryen treasury, though sizeable, was now dwindling.
The realm was in ruins, and the great houses were still waiting for their promised rewards.
Gold flowed from the royal coffers like a river breaching a dam. Moreover, it was the Targaryen custom to keep a significant portion of their treasury on Dragonstone.
So the actual reserves were far less than expected. Starting a shipbuilding program now would push the crown's finances to the brink.
Naturally, all eyes turned to Kevan Lannister.
After King's Landing fell and Robert married Cersei, Tywin had returned to Casterly Rock, leaving Kevan to represent the family's interests.
Noticing the attention upon him, Kevan allowed himself a faint smile.
"No problem. I'll inform my brother of the crown's loan request."
"Loan?"
Robert turned to Kevan, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be saying: I'm the king—can't I simply use your money?
But Kevan stood firm, his expression calm. His gaze seemed to ask: Why shouldn't it be a loan?
"Ahem."
Sensing the tension rising, Jon Arryn cleared his throat to break the silence.
"Then we'll rely on you, Ser Kevan. The crown is in dire need of funds right now."
Kevan nodded with a polite smile.
Before he left, Tywin had already anticipated that the Targaryen remnants on Dragonstone could last another two to three years, maybe longer.
As long as the Targaryens remained, Robert's hold on the Iron Throne would be insecure.
And so long as Robert felt insecure, he would continue to rely more heavily on the Lannisters—giving them greater influence and reward.
Tywin believed he understood Viserys well enough.
The boy was clever, but that was all.
Even if he were the second coming of Rhaegar or Aegon the Conqueror, it would mean nothing. He had no dragons, no army.
No matter how capable he was, what could one man possibly do?
In Tywin's eyes, even Aegon the Conqueror was not so special. He'd only succeeded because of his dragons. Even then, he had lost one in the war.
Tywin believed he could have done better.
He had already foreseen that the Baratheon dynasty would not last long. Before the next upheaval, he meant to amass greater power for House Lannister and ensure their dominance in the west.
By the end of the council, only two major decisions had been agreed upon:
First, the crown would take a loan from House Lannister and immediately begin constructing a new fleet—at least 120 warships to serve as the backbone of a royal navy.
Second, envoys would once again be sent to Dorne to pressure them into submitting and to demand the return of Lyanna.
But Dorne had spies of its own in King's Landing. After the naval battle near the Straits, they quickly learned of the Redwyne fleet's defeat.
They had also long known of the three Kingsguard.
After all, the lords of Skyreach, Nightsong, and Starfall were all vassals of House Martell. Such news could never be fully concealed.
What concerned the Martells most now was the safety of Elia. Dorne sat at the southernmost tip of Westeros—a land of scorching heat and ceaseless sandstorms.
Even the air shimmered under the blazing sun.
Yet not far from Sunspear, the Dornish capital, lush groves formed a natural barrier against the oppressive heat.
Nestled within these groves lay a palace of fountains and gardens.
It was called the Water Gardens. Built by a Dornish prince for the Targaryen princess he married long ago, it now stood as a peaceful haven.
Within the Water Gardens, Doran Martell and his brother were deep in conversation.
Once bitter enemies of the Targaryens for over two centuries, the Martells now found themselves relying on their former foes.
Viserys had already informed them that Elia was safe and currently on Dragonstone. That message had arrived in Sunspear not long after the fall of King's Landing.
"Queen Rhaella seems to be extending an olive branch," Doran observed.
Upon receiving news of Elia's safety, both Doran and Oberyn had seemed much more at ease.
"No, it's not enough," Oberyn replied, clearly displeased. "If they were truly reaching out, they would make Aegon king, not Viserys."
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