𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

“Dream Of A Song” by Ertaç Altınöz

𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 , the king in the north not DARING to interrupt. had his father known of the LOVE shared between his sister and the dragon prince ? had that been the reasoning behind lord stark's refusal to acknowledge the story of her kidnapping ?

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖜 , 𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖗'𝖘 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘 are akin to a punch in the gut. to learn that his aunt had been with child , that his father had returned to winterfell not only with the body of his beloved sister , but a child , a SON . . . his head swims , and a bout of nausea takes hold. no. no. NO. this was but a lame attempt at burrowing beneath the northern man's skin , to infect his mind with DOUBT , a ploy at gaining the upper hand in their proposed allegiance. the words of the prince were nothing more than LIES , surely , for his father would have told him the truth behind his parentage . . . right ?

𝕵𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖑 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖘 atop the table. " no , " he whispers , shaking his head. " no. you're LYING. my father returned with a son , aye ──── ME , a bastard sired on some woman who caught his eye during his travels. " for the prince's words to be true meant that the life jon had lived had been FABRICATED. not a bastard , but the trueborn son of a lady and a prince. not a bastard , but a PRINCE , himself , all this time. his father would never had subjected him to the life of an OUTCAST had he been trueborn.

𝕳𝖊 𝖕𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 the table , wooden legs screeching against the stone floor. he can feel the eyes of his and the prince's men on him. " i want you OUT of winterfell , " jon growls , keeping his volume low. " take your men and return to your sister. tell her that any chance of an allegiance between us has been SQUANDERED by her brother. " and though he makes no gesture to his men to escort the prince out of winterfell , jon storms out of the great hall with ghost on his heels.

𝕷𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖔𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉 how jon looked more like the son of eddard stark that any of his trueborn children , aside from arya. many had commented on how ALIKE he and arya had looked ; and lord stark had mentioned offhandedly how much arya resembled his late sister. had it been a clue all along ? had lyanna stark DIED birthing him , and eddard had had no choice but to claim the babe as his own , out of FEAR of what king robert would do had he known the truth ?

𝕵𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 deserted hall , his breathing having grown ragged. he stops and leans back against the cool stone wall , fits clenching and unclenching at his sides. he slides down slowly until his backside hits the ground , and he is left staring at the wall ahead of him. ghost takes a seat beside him and whines , nudging jon's arm with his snout.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 the story of how the dragon prince and the wolf maid came to be. There was nay a day where she did not visit his thoughts, and to dwell on her memory was to unfailingly invite the ever creeping shadow of GUILT. Yet letting the tale so freely roll off his tongue ( which the man had done not before ) evoked a different kind of sentiment. Mayhaps it is merely the lifted weight of the SECRET held close to his heart for long years, but it must be more than just that… Because as he recounts the tale, it’s as if Lyanna herself is listening, and the gnawing remorse that accompanied her ghost was ( for the first time ) absent. Though as the story approaches its unresolved end, Jon’s demeanor transforms. 

It was of no surprise to hear the whispered denial nor the claims of DECEIT, for they were only expected. Rhaegar is a STRANGER, who travels to the home of the woman the world believes he stole away from her betrothed, to instead spin it as a tale of tragic lovers. But he knows that it’s the IMPLICATION upon his life, and who he truly is, that has so distressed the King in the North. But to the Targaryen, such offense can only be borne on doubt. Despite the hope that the thought sparks, however; he gives it no voice. More so when instead of demanding clearer answers, Jon stands from the table and bids him to leave. 

DREAD grips at his chest, indigo eyes wide and lips parting to give protest but only stunned silence falls, and the younger man storms out of the hall. He stands from the chair, the curious gazes of the few nearby fixating on the silver haired prince—Not that he realized as much. Indeed, all his mind could FATHOM was the truth of what everything entails. He came North to seek answers on what fate befell that unborn babe he left behind in the she-wolf’s womb… And now he has those answers. 

Feet were already moving, carrying the dragon across the hall and in the direction he saw the snow-furred direwolf follow. There was no hearing the whispers he walked past for only the DRUMMING of his heart echoed in his ears. The steps initially taken in haste slowed with the weight of dawning reality once his eyes land on Jon. Rhaegar’s breath shuddered, for it was like glimpsing through a window to the past… HIS past. The bookish boy wandering the halls alone, away from the veiled mockings, pondering with gloom on whether this is truly the life he was born to live. Like FATHER, like SON. 

       ❛ Lya… It’s him. That is our boy. ❜

Moisture threatened to well in his eyes but instead, the Targaryen inhales deeply to steady himself, coming to stand a short distance beside the King… His son. No words were spoken in the empty hall so for a moment, only the light shuffling of his cloak and boots was heard as he slowly lowered himself to the floor. Back leans against the wall, a knee bent higher upon which he rests an elbow. For a few moments, the older man grapples with his own thoughts, the idiom of wisdom and prudence forsaking him in the midst of so INTENSE emotions. Was there even anything he ought to say? There was no consolation he could offer, no insight to unravel the turmoil he must surely be plagued by. Should he enact the part of a father, despite having actually been one only in the first years of his daughter’s short life? To adopt that role now would leave him feeling an IMPOSTER … So it is truth that he chooses to finally voice. 

       ❝ Lord Eddard was your father, and in your heart, he shall always be. ❞ Rhaegar softly states, glancing towards Jon and then to the stonewall in front of them. ❝ I dare not presume his reasons but what I know is what she told me. That family was everything to him. ❞ Even the long years have not muffled the sound of PRAISE in Lyanna’s voice when she spoke of her brother, coaxing a SORROWFUL smile at the memory. ❝ There was none other she trusted more. ❞ And thus only Eddard would she trust to keep her son safe. 

Lids close and his head tilts back against the wall, silently rallying every ounce of calm composure that he can muster. When they open again, it’s on his son that they focus, gleaming with dual sentiments of GRIEF and JOY. The tone of his voice when speaking again reflected them both, softened with warm fondness.

Bookworms in A Song of Ice and Fire

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐭: 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚕

Maybe it was all for naught. 

The moving of the pawns from the shadows, writing letters in the dimly lit corner of his chambers, risking the lives of those who believed in him to do what was best by carrying out shady schemes. Even Elia, his ever gracious wife, summoned an entire retinue of ladies to attend her, in the hidden intent of assisting her husband in his plans. It was hard to stop his heart from dropping in hopelessness when the rumors of the King’s presence in Harrenhal became a reality. It wasn’t hard to surmise who was whispering in his royal sire’s ear, fueling the man’s fear of enemies and betrayal; proving that all efforts to remain inconspicuous were in vain. 

It meant not that all was lost nor that those plans were thwarted for certain. The prince might yet rally the support of the noble families in other ways, for when the time of changes is upon them. 

The eve prior to their departure, Rhaegar visited the bed of the Martell princess, where they would whisper of what was to come in the following weeks. Both were reluctant to leave behind their daughter, sharing in how they would miss her bright smile and sweet laughter as she wobbled along the halls of Dragonstone.

Although Elia was eager for the journey and the tourney’s grandeur, the crown prince was less so. Harrenhal was a place of ghosts. It was there that Aegon unleashed the destructive fury of the Black Dread’s fire, engulfing those inside in a fiery death. The place which was meant to protect them became their grave. He’s seen ghosts, heard them in Summerhall, their whispers haunting his dreams. And yet he’s seldom felt such solace elsewhere that was not in the ruins of his birthplace, under the open blanket of a starry night sky. Being surrounded by the shadow of grief strangely brought him peace. How he longed for those nights of lone escape. 

Even from a distance, the melted, black towers of Harrenhal inspired a kind of awe that was close to unnerving. The more they approached its gates, the busier the road with all those who would attend the tourney. They stared when the royal procession passed by, the banners of House Targaryen proudly waving in the wind, but they cheered and bowed as Rhaegar’s steed galloped along. The dragon prince smiled and nodded, lifting a hand in every now and then in greeting. 

The grounds around Harrenhall were filled with colorful pavilions, making the heir wonder how they would look from above on the back of a dragon. He would sometimes dream of it—Flying on dragon back and leaving the world behind. Often enough, it felt like he was the dragon. 

After his own pavilion and those of his wife and her ladies were standing, refreshments were fetched, but he did not remain long. Arthur Dayne, Knight of the Kingsguard and his closest friend, accompanied the prince on a stroll around the grounds, greeting a few of the lords and their families. But not long after, a commotion commanded the attention of those closeby, including Rhaegar’s, who followed towards the source.

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽: 𝐎𝐧 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 was known to be a great knight, by all accounts. Even though he had no true love for lance or sword, he was skilled in their use, and this is another testament to how he “excelled at everything he put his mind into”. 

RHAEGAR APPRECIATION WEEK 2021: ↳ Day 3: Skills

As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb.

***

GREY EYES FLICKER TO HIS MOST TRUSTED ADVISOR , and davos seaworth breaks from the line , murmuring to the targaryen prince's men , gesturing to the empty tables for them to take their seats. jon continues on , guiding rhaegar to the table he once was FORBIDDEN to occupy. the king takes his seat , giving the prince his choice of several empty seats. seats that once sat members of house stark ──── now , only sansa fills her seat when at the table.

A SERVANT GIRL RUSHES TO THE TABLE , a flagon of wine in her hands ; another setting goblets before the king and the prince. with a mumbled thanks , jon takes a sip. " before we discuss an allegiance . . . " he pauses , setting his goblet down. he drums his fingers ANXIOUSLY against the wooden tabletop. " it is no secret that the people of the north do not . . . take kindly to your arrival. " indeed , jon can FEEL the eyes upon him , men and women loyal to house stark and the king in the north lingering within the hall. he clears his throat , and they scatter like rats. " these people took the word of king robert as TRUTH ──── that you KIDNAPPED my aunt and LOCKED HER AWAY in a tower , where she would later DIE. "

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 burn at him, but Rhaegar’s steps did not falter nor did his head dip—Despite the way that ever lurking GUILT only swelled. How many of those present lost a father, a brother or a son because of him? Even if the anguish of those deaths torment him, he is the blood of the DRAGON; and he is not afraid of being the object of their retribution, more so when it is deserved. What does evoke trepidation in the man is the pursuit of a truth that has the power to either unravel him in SORROW, or renew him in HOPE. This King in the North must hold those answers, if he knows where to look. 

Indigo gaze continued to stray towards the younger man that walked a few steps before him, because of that NEED for truth. It was with effort that the Targaryen forces himself to instead choose a seat, opting for the empty chair on the King’s left—The right was reserved for esteemed guests ( as he should be considered ) but his choice is meant to serve a silent display of HUMILITY and deference. The approach of a servant girl prompts him to murmur words of gratitude after she presents them with goblets and a flask of wine. 

Following the assurances, Jon expresses his wish to discuss other matters. Even before he elaborated, the Dragon Prince could surmise what it was, so he was quietly GRATEFUL for the King’s dismissal of his men and women that lingered about. Their hovering presence would’ve made it increasingly hard to share what he must with the man. Although there was no venom coating the questioning words, his features hardened—For an instant, it was like looking at a glass mirror, distorted with the GHOST of Lyanna’s own ( harsher ) stare. 

❝ They are not wrong in their animosity, for on my shoulders are the deaths of many. Mayhaps even that of your Lord father’s sister, in a way… ❞ Rhaegar concedes, the REMORSE lacing every word. He takes his own goblet to sip from, looking down to the swiveling wine briefly whilst gathering his words. If he is asking this of him, then he would presume Eddard failed to tell the tale, and that in itself sparks SUSPICION. However, it’s the confession of his uncertainty in his belief of Robert’s claims that has his heart skip. When he meets Jon’s eyes, a kind of sadness resides in the older man’s indigo depths.   ❝ As you say, there is always more than one side to a story. It is of no surprise that the one in power saw to it that his own was established as truth. ❞ To see that Jon possesses the wisdom to listen before passing judgment inevitably fuels that glimmer of HOPE. Yet it does not make it any easier to speak his part. Putting down the goblet, his hand remains on the table with his fingers curling and uncurling, before it lowers to the edge of his chair to shift it in the direction of the King. Let him look to the Prince and see the truth on his features to match that of his WORDS. 

And so Rhaegar told him the story he’s not shared with anyone else, not even his own sister. The tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree that his royal sire tasked him with hunting, and how he LIED when announcing only a shield was to be found. That the reason he crowned the wolf maid with those winter roses was to HONOR her noble deeds as that mysterious knight that none would know of, only because she was a woman. The Targaryen spoke with FONDNESS of their clandestine meetings, where they would speak of their innermost dreams and hopes, and share in their sorrow of the ones that would never come to be. Finally, he elaborated on the meeting plans that would ignite the rumors of the dragon stealing the she-wolf… And how before a weirwood tree on the Isle of Faces, in the eyes of the Old Gods, they swore to love one another as husband and wife.  ❝ We departed for Dorne and remained there for half a year’s time, before I was summoned to lead the crown’s forces into war. She… ❞ The hands on his lap join, clasping them tightly together. ❝ Lyanna begged me to not go, to not leave her behind. ❞ Chest clenches around his heart at the painful memory, at how he would SUFFER a similar parting in King’s Landing with his first wife, Elia—But he pushed the rest of the words out, looking straight into Jon’s eyes. ❝ She had to remain in the tower, under the safety of my most trusted Kingsguard… Because she was carrying our child. ❞ The last sentence simultaneously lifted a tremendous weight from the silver haired prince, and reinstated a new and perhaps HEAVIER one. ❝ I met Robert in battle and narrowly survived. Loyal men used his own collapse from a wound I inflicted and the chaos of the aftermath, to scurry away with my body. And the rest, well… Here we are. ❞

❛ i’ll never be that me again. ❜

—————————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure which ‘him’ he was referring to, for one such as she who spent so much time in his company saw many sides, even sides he perhaps did not show to the world; even some of his family. The tower was quiet, with only the crackling flames heard, gray eyes lifted from the dancing fire towards the Dragon Prince that sat across from her, a shadow outlined behind him as if he were a living piece of poetry. Tips of delicate fingers strummed along the underneath of slightly swollen abdomen, head tilted to the side while processing each word he said before given her own, gaze was turned back towards the warmth of the fire. 

Some say the world will end in fire, others in ice. 

𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒, a time of innocence was known to Rhaegar once. Those eves of his tender years when a young Rhaella would read to him, drinking every word in WONDERMENT. The world seemed so immense in its infinite possibilities, and all he needed to do was grow to seize each and every one. He scarcely has any clear memories of exactly what stories the Queen read, but it’s the WARMTH felt in her arms that he remembers so well. If only he could forget the nights where her embrace would shake with the tears she tried to swallow. The one time he stood between his royal sire and mother is when the last of that innocence was SHATTERED. 

Henceforth, he would seek a purpose, an answer to the SHADOW that followed him—The one he realized had always existed since the tragic night of his birth. Would that their child never knows such LONELINESS nor inherit the melancholy of the father. But it was an empty hope, the Targaryen knows, for the babe’s future is certain to be toilsome, filled with trials. That was yet to come, however.

His own children were in the ground. She'd heard that much, and of Robert's death, too. Really, she was lucky Ned had reached her first, otherwise Rhaegar might have come back to a graveyard instead of the tower as he had left it.

Ned was outside, cautious and gracious, and she imagined, still parlaying to take her home. She had heard them talking about it( she was still too weak to travel atop a horse and Ned had no cart to make the travel easier) from the window before this conversation.

The thought of home was like a deep ache. She couldn't wait to see Brandon or her father. Ned had yet to say anything of them.

"That is why you came here, instead of King's Landing? You've crushed an uprising." She said distantly, "many things hang off of your wishes." It was not so simple as to go home.

There were loyalists and traitors to contend with. It was all rather fragile right now.

"Jaehaerys Waters?" The jab is quick as she held her son a little tighter. " Old Nan used to tell us stories of Jon Who Climbs the Wall. He was a friend of the children," She said softly as if telling the tale to her own child, watching as his little head turned towards his father's finger," in the Conqueror's time. He saw Death's hands first, and the fire second. Old Nan said he was the first to fly." She wanted her boy to fly. She wanted him to be safe. He didn't ask for this.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 closed his eyes and did not see the field of corpses he’d walked away from. No moment of quiet to be had when the clash of swords and the agonized screams of men ENDLESSLY reverberated in his ears. Rhaegar was not in the Keep and yet the deaths of his family HAUNTED him above that of the BLOODSHED he took part in. Mayhaps that is why he did not return to King’s Landing following that shallow victory at the Trident. Mayhaps cowardice steered him towards the one who has brought him such JOY in the past moons instead.   

❝ Mayhaps, ❞ the dragon prince utters in response to both his innermost thoughts and her distant words. It was difficult to unravel one from the other for the two sound the same—The perpetually gnawing GUILT seeming to adopt Lyanna’s voice for an instant. Does she blame him as much as the man already blames himself? TRAGEDY has visited many in the Seven Kingdoms and more still are to follow, he knows.  

It is the matter of their son’s name and the undisguised accusation that momentarily silences the TURMOIL, serving to sharpen his mind into the future. ❝ Not for long. He is my only child. ❞ Sorrow coats the truth of those words, but it does not dampen the warmth of that fondness in the father’s indigo gaze. There is a deeper significance that the Targaryen gives not voice to yet, for other things need be accomplished before such PLANS may be pursued. Instead, the Targaryen listens attentively to the Stark’s tale after seeking her own suggestion for a name. ❝ The first to fly… ❞ A foreign heaviness settles in his heart for a fleeting instant, only for it to be lifted with a renewed purpose—One kin to that of reignited FAITH. ❝ His name is Jon. ❞ Rhaegar states, touching a finger to that of the babe’s small hand. ❝ I will do what I must for you, my son. ❞ And what that entails threatens to break that heart in two, because he knows how much Lyanna loves her home. A she-wolf of Winterfell, she is; and it is there that she belongs. But their child is also a DRAGON and his destiny is greater than both of them, and what he is about to ask might just keep her from returning.