This first chapter was written by a close friend of mine who planned to post this on the archive of our own asoiaf page, but a month ago, he was stricken with testicular cancer and is undergoing chemotherapy. Since the cancer was discovered quite late, their is a chance that he might succumb to it. He asked me to post this chapter and create a story from it. To him, I say thank you.
I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Ser Gerold Hightower closed his eyes and took a long and deep breath, as he always did when anxiety began to shroud over him. The messenger could not have come at a worse time, he thought as the rider dismounted from his horse. He wore a light white hooded robe of porous material, with black pants and brown sandals. As he pulled back his cowl, Ser Gerold noticed that the Dornishman's expression was grim and foreboding, a face burnt brown by the sun and scarred across the jaw with dark eyes that were blank and placant. Part of his role as Lord Commander was to gauge the people's motives and ambitions, even from brief encounters. It was a way of being able to evaluate who was a danger to the King or who could possibly undermine the security of the royal family. Gerold judged that from the way the messenger carried himself as he walked towards him, that the news he brought was not going to be for his liking. Or anyone.
The Stark girl had gone into labour two hours ago, and the maester and the wet-nurse that had been stationed at the tower when they had arrived had been fretting about. All he had been hearing from both of them was either "too young" or "the labour is slowly killing her" and "birthing fever" and had to step outside the Tower to escape it all. Rhaegar would not be too happy if anything happened to the girl. In fact, the girl had not spoken much since Rhaegar had left for, but then again, she was mostly silent during the time
Gerold had been ordered by Rhaegar to watch over her, aside from that one explosive outburst after discovering what happened to her father and brother. It had taken Rhaegar, Arthur and Oswell to bring her back to the Tower after she tried riding from the Tower back south. Gerold heard another cry of pain emit from the tower, and prayed that the child would be delivered safely. He hoped Rhaegar was right - that his child with Lyanna Stark would be a female.
"The dragon must have three heads," The Crowned Prince had said before departing for King's Landing. Arthur and Oswell had given up the heart to dissuade him, saying that the infant might turn out to be male instead.
Rhaegar had stubbornly refused to accept that possible reality. He wanted so badly his Visenya to complete his damned prophecy of the song of ice and fire. Gerold had no clue on what his prince was going on about. He was a practical man, and did not believe that simple prophecies and premonitions could rid the world of the evil that plagued it. Be it supernatural or otherwise.
"How goes the war?" he asked, as the messenger came to a stop a few feet in front of him. The man worked for Lord Beric Dayne, Arthur's lord father and the Lord of Starfall. Despite being a man past seventy, Lord Beric valued discretion and secrecy above all else, and Gerold knew he could trust the man in front of him. No one could possibly question his love for his second son Arthur - who Gerold believed to be his favourite - or his loyalty to the Iron Throne. House Dayne had proven to be a remarkable ally in this war in not only just the battlefield. Without his help, they would have simply perished of thirst in the deserts of Dorne. The Tower of Joy was not as well-stocked as they had hoped, and its inhabitants had left the place when Rhaegar had written ahead to request it's uses. While Gerold knew he appreciated the help of Lord Beric Dayne and his family (with the clear exception of Ashara Dayne), Rhaegar had not openly cared. Sometimes, Gerold worried the man might starve himself to death while going over his books and papers all day and night. When he was not with Lyanna Stark, of course.
The man's voice was hollow and almost lifeless when he said, "My lord...I am not the right person to tell you this. What we have heard from the north does not bode well for House Targaryen and-" Gerold's inside twisted into a knot and he put up his hand to stop him mid-sentence. "Tell me what has happened. Have we lost? Has Prince Rhaegar or King Aerys...?"
The man hesitated, and then pulled out something that seemed to be from his backside. Gerold blinked in astonishment. "Lord Beric told me to pass this on to you. He said for me not to speak a word to you except for handing you this. He said that I was not the appropriate person to share and discuss this news with you. I apologize if I speak in riddles or leave you confused, but he said for me to give this letter to you," And so he did, and Gerold received it in some sort of transfixed daze. "But...for what has happened, I am truly sorry." Before Gerold could register a thought, the man turned back and headed straight for his horse. Something compelled Gerold not to go after him. But the look of pity on that man's face... Now he was really worried.
The letter was truly from Lord Dayne, expected to be a summary about what went on in the outside world. Rhaegar had received them each month of the war as it raged on north of Dorne. Usually, Gerold would be with his brothers and Prince Rhaegar when the letter was read out to them in the study room on the second level of the tower. When Rhaegar had sent a raven to them from King's Landing telling them of his arrival and his plan to lead the loyalist forces against Robert Baratheon, Gerold had waited until all his brothers had assembled in private to break open the letter and read its contents. But now, the temptation to see what Lord Dayne had written was too great. Had the man outside been toying with him? Or had something truly awful happened to the Targaryens inflicted by the rebel forces?
Gerold stepped inside into the Tower of Joy and leaned back against the wall, and opened the parchment. When he finished reading, he was thankful he had something to support himself with. His thoughts and his own head were spinning around in circles and his tiring eyes burning as his eyes processed what was on the parchment. Was his old age making him senile and he was reading this all wrong? The past sixty years had finally caught up with him and were taking a toll on not just his body, but his brain? Gerold's first instinct was to ride to King's Landing and slay them all himself, but the rational and more clearer side of him knew that that would be suicide and would do more harm than good. No, he needed to speak with his sworn brothers and think through everything, and plan their next step through this tragedy.
I will avenge them all, he swore to the deceased King Aegon and King Jaehaerys, whom he had served as a knight of their Kingsguard starting from when he had been nineteen.
He found Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent conversing with themselves outside the birthing room, standing guard at the entrance of where the girl was giving birth to their future Prince or Princess. Oswell was a slender man of twenty-nine with long brown curls and cornflower-blue eyes, with tanned skin, a round face and a crooked nose. He was mostly known in the Kingsguard for his dark sense of humour and his ability to think quickly on the spot, with an explemary mind for tactics. It had saved the Lord Commander's life during their battle with the Smiling Knight and his fellow outlaws.
Ser Arthur Dayne however, was something else. The closest friend of Rhaegar and elder brother of Ashara and the younger sibling of Alraine. While all of his sworn brothers fought well, Gerold could honestly say that Arthur could fight like the Warrior himself. He was the deadliest of King Aerys' Kingsguard, and was one of the most true and valiant knights Gerold had ever seen. He was tall and powerful, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a flat stomach. Being the Sword of Morning, he wielded Dawn which was slung over his left shoulder at all times except when it was being wielded in his hands. Favouring the Dayne look, he had silver-blonde hair which he wore long and flowing and deep violet eyes. Arthur looked every inch of the warrior, and Gerold knew if things had gone differently, he would have made an excellent Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Arthur smiled on seeing him, and his grin widened after seeing the parchment in his hands.
"Father has written?", asked the Sword of the Morning.
"Thank the Seven. I've been waiting for what seems for years for updates on this bloody war," Oswell said. "Rhaegar's dealt with Baratheon and his allies, I hope?" If only that were true. Ser Gerold Hightower's eyes flashed with anger. He thrust the letter at them.
"One of you. Read it. Read it! Read it aloud for all of us to hear. we must all here this. I cannot do this. I am sorry." Oswell seemed taken aback with Gerold's outburst, but Arthur composed himself still with a surprised look and took the letter from Gerold's shaking hands. His face paled within moments of glancing at the first few sentences, but he obeyed his command and cleared his throat.
We have lost. Robert's Rebellion is over, and we have lost. Prince Rhaegar slain at the Trident by Robert Baratheon, and Ser Jonothor and Prince Lewyn Martell dead with him along with many of the loyalist forces. Selmy injured, probably dead too. Lannister's led by Tywin sacked King's Landing to gain favour with the rebels. Princess Elia and her children - all slain by Tywin's bannermen on his orders. Ser Jaime Lannister slew King Aerys. Stabbed him in the back with his golden sword. Lord Eddard Stark led the rebel forces to King's Landing and are in a stalemate with the Lannisters over what has transpired at King's Landing. If the girl has given birth, grab the child and run to Dragonstone. Queen Rhaella is pregnant and is with Prince Viserys being protected by Ser Willem Darry. Please, protect yourselves and the girl.There was a pregnant pause, a dangerous silence filling all around them that seemed to drown out the birthing cries of Lyanna Stark as Ser Arthur's fingers trembled and the letter fell to the ground.
"What?" Oswell breathed out, his voice croaking. "What? No, this cannot be true."
"But it is," Arthur said, his eyes shining with horror. "It has happened. This has happened. Rhaegar...Elia...their children...this cannot be. Why?! This cannot be."
"HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED!" Oswell burst out screaming. "We had more than twenty thousand more men than the rebels including the ten thousand dornishmen. All seasoned and capable. All headed up by commanders who knew what they were doing! All fucking experienced and ready! We lost to a fucking whoring drunkard, a green second son, an old degenerate man who cannot produce a child even illegitimately and a ambiguous riverman who did not even have the loyalty of half his bannermen. And Rhaegar! Aerys! Slain by our own brother. What in gods name will we do now?"
Arthur was completely still, probably in shock. Ser Gerold's tongue felt like it was lead, and he could not move his mouth to speak. He had failed them all. His King, his Prince, his men. And Jaime Lannister had been the one to slay Aerys. That boy...Gerold had known it was too early for him to join the Kingsguard. He had never been prepared for the responsibilities of serving king. An excellent swordsman, but too green for his comfort. And a king like Aerys...it took all of Gerold's will to serve and obey. Never question unless important. How could someone like Jaime have served a king like that at seventeen? That had been one of King Aerys mistakes: taking away Tywin's heir away from him and slighting him. That debt had been repaid in kind, tenfold.
"Jonothor and Lewyn. Barristan could be dead for all we know. Rhaegar. Our king Aerys. Princess Elia, Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys. ALL OF THEM DEAD!" Oswell was still ranting as Gerold focused back into this horrible reality. "And Jaime! That boy was never ready to serve in the Kingsguard. He betrayed us, and he betrayed his most solemn vows. We must head north and dispense what justice we can. It was a mistake for him to be in-"
"Shut up!" Arthur roared, the continuing cries of Lyanna Stark seeming like a distant memory. His face had stricken with sorrow, regret and anguish all into one when Jaime (who he had knighted and mentored) and Rhaegar and Elia (both of whom he had been very close with) had been brought up. "Shut up, Oswell. We would be fools for doing so. Three knights of the Kingsguard smashing our way through the gates of a well fortified city filled with Lannisters, Baratheons, rivermen, northmen and the people of the Vale? We would die before reaching the Red Keep!"
"What are we supposed to do now? All hope is lost. The Tyrells will bend the knee now that Aerys and Rhaegar are gone, and Baratheon will hunt us down like rats if we manage to escape." Oswell said. "This is not the time for thinking straight. I would rather piss on Rhaegar's corpse than bend the knee to that stormlord fool."
"We have a duty now that Aerys and Rhaegar are dead. We must protect and defend the king, who could be born at any minute now." Arthur reasoned.
"And what happens if it is a girl?" Oswell asked. "Then Prince Viserys is our king. Do we take her to Dragonstone and flee to the east with the Queen, Ser Willem and Viserys?"
"No." Gerold said finally, and they both looked at him wildly. He had almost forgotten about the third child that Rhaegar had been desperate to conceive. The one that was being brought into the world now in the room that they were guarding. From Rhaegar apparently marrying the girl under the heart-three - reinstating the ancient practice of polygamy of House Targaryen to mirror Aegon and his sister-wives - the child that was about to be born would be legitimate and an heir to the Iron Throne. Ser Gerold had not approved of Rhaegar marrying for the second time. He had been anointed in the light of the Seven, and The Faith condoned polygamy. But then again, so did they to incest. The Faith Militant Uprising had been suppressed by Maegor the Cruel and then resolved peacefully by Jaehaerys the Conciliator, and their main motivation had been to remove the incest-born Aenys from the Iron Throne. Despite it having not been used to almost two hundred years, it had not been technically forbidden.
Gerod wondered if the lords and ladies of Westeros would find this union illegitimate and unworthy of claim. But without Aegon, then the next option was Viserys. A prospect that truly frightened Gerold. While Rhaegar has escaped the shadow of Aerys, Viserys had always had the scant trace of the madness that had tainted the Targaryen line through their constant practice of incest. It had been Barristan who had brought it to Gerold attention, and it had bothered him ever since though that had been put aside since he had thought Rhaegar would ascend to the throne. But now, Gerold had to make the right choice.
"No. No one is going anywhere. We will decide after she has given birth," ordered Ser Gerold, his mind still far away from what was happening between the three. "Boy or girl, we will decide when everything is clear for all of us. Boy or girl, a dragon is still a dragon." He had to write a message to the Queen and fill her in on what had happened here. He would obey her over any child-king or she-wolf anyday, especially when their options were limited. He knew Queen Rhaella would make the smart and unbiased decision. She had always been clever and shrewd, and kind of heaty. The infant about to be born was her grandchild, after all.
"I just hope we make the right choice." Oswell narrowed his eyes and gripped the pommel of his sword.
"For all our sakes, we better." Arthur said, before entering the room where sound had abstained, and the sounds of a child whimpering and its pitiful cries of birth now enveloped the hall.
Please, gods. Give us the strength to do the right thing.
A boy. Lyanna Stark had given birth a healthy baby boy. Under different circumstances, Ser Gerold would have been smiling from both corners of his eyes and offering his congratulations to Lady Stark, just like he had done for Princess Elia, Queen Rhaella, Queen Alaennys(1) and Queen Rhae(2). A smile was on his face, but it did not reach his eyes. And he would be lying to himself if he believed it to be genuine.
Girl or Boy. A Visenya or something else. A dragon was still a dragon. And this prince is the last of Rhaegar's line.
Gerold didn't know if it made it better or worse, but this boy...his king seemed to take after his father in appearance. In fact, he reminded Ser Gerold much of how Prince Aegon had looked when he had been born, with his purple eyes and the wisps of fairish hair on top of his head. He had the Targaryen/Valyrian colouring. But the infant clearly shared prominent Stark features with his mother - the long face, the light skin, the close-tipped mouth, the sharp features that shaped his face. He had inherited the best of both worlds, it seemed. Their was no question of his parentage now.
The Lord Commander knew that the girl was too weak to make the trip to Dragonstone, and would probably die if they tried to move her. Bedridden with fever, the maester had said. It looked to Ser Gerold that she would die anyway even if they did nothing. They had run out on the limited amount of 'milk of poppy' they had been given anyway. A decision for what they would do next had to be made there and now.
"A boy," Arthur said softly, closing his eyes and grounding his teeth. "Rhaegar was wrong. He did not get his Visenya. It is a boy."
"It?" Lyanna Stark asked, her grey eyes flashing with anger. "This is my son. This is Rhaegar's son. It is not some toy or something that can be cast aside. He."
Arthur Dayne's face warmed. "I did not mean...I would never...I was just asking-"
Ser Gerold interjected, "He is a Prince. Does the Prince have a name?"
Lyanna Stark frowned at that. "I-I don't know. Rhaegar was so sure...I would give birth to a girl. The dragon must have three heads, he said, to complete the song of ice and fire.' A girl would have been Visenya. A boy... I don't know...our son...my darling boy." She coughed strickeninly and She looked down at the babe in her arms, who had been strangely quiet even before he began to drink the milk of his mother's teat and who had been wrapped in a blanket by the wet nurse, and Gerold was struck by the fierce love and devotion on her face as she gazed at their king's face. A mother's love was truly something to ponder upon and admire.
The babe began to gurgle and make noises appropriate for a king of his age.
"Then we must pick a name for him," Ser Oswell decided. "The girl does not understand the gravity of the situation. We must pick a name for the king."
True to that, the girl looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean? The Mad-I mean, Aerys - is king? And Rhaegar his heir?"
Arthur's face whitened, and he clenched his knuckles as he almost hissed the words out, "My lady, forgive me for giving you ill news just minutes after your labour, but it cannot wait. Rhaegar...is dead. He was slain by Robert Baratheon at the Trident in single combat."
Lyanna's eyes widened, and she let out a choke. "What? Rhaegar... 's...impossible. Kof, kof, kof." She placed a hand on her chest and breathed slowly.
"That's not all," Ser Oswell said. "We have lost the war, and King's Landing has fallen to betrayal on part of the Lannisters. Lord Tywin sacked the city, and the King, Princess Elia, Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys are all dead. The former stabbed in the back by our own accursed brother Jaime, and all the latter butchered by Lannister forces."
Ser Gerold said, "The Queen, Prince Viserys and trusted loyalists have fled to Dragonstone and await for us." At least, that would be when Gerold sent his letter to the Queen.
The girl did not look like she was capable of speech anymore, an expression of horror on her face. He was proven wrong a moment later when a series of moans came from her mouth, all sounding out the names of Elia, Aegon, Rhaenys and finally, Rhaegar. He almost stepped back in surprise at the quickness of her stream of curses.
"What of my brother?" She asked after what seemed to be a long moment of eerie silence.
"We do not know, my lady," Ser Arthur said. "Lord Eddard the last we know raced to King's Landing and was met with a desecrated city."
"Oh," Some of the tension in her body left, but she still seemed on the edge. "Wait, if Prince Viserys and Queen Rhaella are at Dragonstone, then why are all three of you still here? Shouldn't you be with your new king now?"
Ser Oswell laughed whilst shaking his head. "I don't believe you heard us clearly, Lady Lyanna. We are already with the new king. He is being held right in front of us. By you."
"You're son is King Aerys' heir, my lady, now that Rhaegar and Prince Aegon are...dead," Arthur braced his mailed hand against the bed rail, leaning closer. "He is next in line to succeed, as we ignore the line of the usurper."
"Robert." She whispered, though not unkindly enough for Gerold's liking.
"Baratheon will kill our little king if he finds out he exists before we can gather strength," Gerold said. "He hates Targaryens, and if it is revealed to him that his beloved betrothed was begotten a child by her 'kidnapper'... he would kill the boy himself and call it justice."
"I am not his beloved betrothed," She hissed. That was the feistiness and hate Gerold had wanted to see. "I am not his anything. Rhaegar did not kidnap me. He will not have me."
"Coming back to the original topic, we need a name befitting the Targaryen monarchy," Oswell said. "Something respectable like-"
"No!" Lyanna screamed with an unexpected force that did make the Lord Commander shuffle near Ser Arthur who was to his left. "The Sword of the Morning said it himself: Robert will kill my son if he discovers who he is. I don't want my son - Rhaegar's only living child - dying over some iron chair. I don't want him to be a pawn in this game of thrones you play. I don't want-"
"It is not you're decision!" Oswell shouted at her, startling the girl. "When you ran off with Rhaegar and decided to bear his child, you must have known the consequences and the responsibilities you would face. Of course, no one would have suspected it would have ended up in this great fucking mess, but now we have our duties to perform. And so do you. A heavy burden befalls your son, and he cannot even speak! We must accept and raise our king now, or else all is lost and-"
"No!" Lyanna cried. "Please. I don't want my son to be hurt. Please, don't make him to be king."
"My lady..." Arthur, always the diplomatic one, tried to say something, but she gave him a sharp look of fury.
"As Rhaegar's closest friend, I would have thought you would understand," Lyanna said, clutching her son close. "Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys and Princess Elia of Dorne are all dead. Here lies the only remaining son of one of the greatest men that had ever lived. You cannot truly believe that he is ready to be King, especially now that the war is over. He is not even a day old!"
Ser Gerold Hightower knew he should speak, but his mind was split into two. For one thing, what the girl said was completely justified. Was it truly wise to crown a baby boy who had barely spent more than ten minutes in this world as king of the entire realm of Westeros? But on the other hand, he had the responsiblity as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to serve the king. And if the king would not be Lyanna Stark's son...
Seven bloody hells. I should have justed stayed at Oldtown and married the girl my father wanted me to wed in the first place. So what that she had been docile, boring and submissive. She is married now with five children!
He made his choice. He knew what he had to do. He prayed the gods would forgive him for his actions. He hoped they would understand why he did what he did.
"If that is what you want, my lady, then so be it. Prince Viserys is our king." Ser Gerold began.
Arthur spun next to him. "What? Lord Commander, you cannot possibly-"
Gerold continued as if Arthur had never spoken. "However, King Viserys must not have any possible pretenders or claimants to the Iron Throne. As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, my duty is to protect the King no matter what. If that means committing infanticide to do so, then so be it."
"What are you talking about?" The girl said, her face paling.
"Rest assured. I will not be cruel or extravagant. A simple pillow will suffice," spoke Ser Gerold Hightower, his voice become harsher. "No possible pretenders for King Viserys, the Third of His Name. No Daemon Blackfyre to Daeron the Good. No Aegon the Usurper to Princess Rhaenyra. No Starks or Tullys to rally behind him and undermine Viserys' rule. I cannot let your son live."
'No!' screamed the girl, 'You cannot! He is just a babe. You cannot kill him. Please...mercy.'
Oswell was narrowing his eyes. "Lord Commander, what are you doing? You cannot be possibly serious. This is the highest act of religious sacriledge and treason. The killing of a child is not something that can be undone in the eyes of the gods."
"I am deadly serious, Ser Oswell," Ser Gerold snarled. "I will not have anyone destroy what little chance we have of putting the Targaryens back on the throne. If a child needs to die in order to stabilize the realm then so be it. And Arthur, if you pull out Dawn from you're scabbard, you are just as cursed as I am." He looked at the Sword of the Morning, who was ready to unsheathe his blade and defend Lady Lyanna. Ser Arthur Dayne growled at him, his hand still at the hilt.
I could not be more prouder of my brothers. They are better men than me.
"It is the Crown or the pillow, you stupid girl," Ser Gerold roared at her, feeling something pierce his heart. "Accept the fate of your son, or suffer the consequences. Make your choice now!"
"No-no-no. Please, don't do this," Lyanna begged, but she slowly started to squirm away despite the babe in her arms. Gerold had to admire her courage. A she-wolf would always protect the members of her pack. "I will not let you touch him. He is my son." The babe began to cry, and she rocked him gently.
"Make your choice NOW!" Ser Gerold yelled, and Arthur Dayne ripped Dawn away and pointed the blade at the Lord Commander. Ser Oswell looked at all of them uncertainly, his hand firmly at the pommel of his sword in anticipation. "The Crown or the pillow. Life or death!"
"Fine, the Crown!" The girl was trembling. "Please, for the love of the gods, the Crown. Let my boy live."
"A wise answer," Ser Gerold sighed. "Now, when Ser Arthur had sheathed Dawn, hand your son to him if you want him to live."
He saw from the corner of his eye that Arthur was stunned at his sudden mood change, but he quickly did what must, and stepped across to her bedside.
Shaking, the girl complied. As Ser Arthur took the boy and cradled him in his armoured arms protectively, Ser Gerold's mind shifted to the next priority. He would have apologised and explained his actions to all of them, but it was not the time. They had bigger things to worry about. Let them think what they want for now.
"Ser Oswell, you were about to suggest a name?" His cooled his voice down. Ser Oswell was not looking at him, but to his feet, at the ceiling, or to the walls. Anywhere else but at him.
"Ser Oswell?" Ser Gerold spoke louder this time.
"Yes," Oswell seemed disheartened and distracted. "I was saying we need a name...regarding the Valyrian dynasty. Not some simple name like Jon, Rickard, Raymund or Willem. Something like Aegon or something."
"Aegon is off the table," Ser Arthur said quietly, staring down at the child, his icy purple eyes glistening softly. "It would be disrespectful towards Elia and Rhaegar, and in bad taste considering."
"Not Aegon." Lyanna Stark said weakly. Gerold had almost forgotten the girl was in the room.
"Aerys, Rhaegar and Viserys are out," Oswell said, shifting his weight from one leg to another. "Maegor, Baelor, Aenys, Aemond and Maelor will not work well politically, for they do not bode a good reputation. Daemon, Haegon and Aerion for the same reason."
"Rhaegal was the name of a feeble-man. Maekar was the king that too few remember, respect or admire properly. Ayrmidon - no one knows who the hell we are talking about. We need to establish the Targaryen dynasty with a name once more that has a respectable weight with all the kingdoms." Gerold said.
They all thought in silence, with Lyanna just staring at all of them until Arthur said, "What about Daeron? The first was a conqueror, and the second is considered the third best king the kingdom has seen. It would be a good choice."
"Or Aemon, King Aegon V's maester brother that Rhaegar constantly wrote letters too at the Wall. I wonder how he feels about this." Oswell wondered aloud.
I would not be surprised if he decided to abandon the Wall altogether, Ser Gerold thought, though the Night's Watch is a safe place for him in these dark times.
"Their has never been a Targaryen king that has been Aemon...though." Lyanna Stark put in, her voice crackling.
That was true. Gerold thought of another, "Jaehaerys perhaps. I served Jaehaerys the Second, and he was a good and gracious man despite his sickly nature. Despite many people's perception, it was wise of him to wed Alaennys Blackfyre. And the first Jaehaerys...well, we all know about him. He gave the realm six decades of peace and peacefully put an end to the Faith Miliant Uprising."
"Even managed to defuse the troublesome quarrel between the Blackwoods and Brackens for a century." Ser Oswell pointed out.
Yes, the answer was clear to him now. He recalled the second Jaehaerys. The sickly looking, pale and frail king with large purple eyes and shoulder-length silver hair. Who had always been close with Ser Barristan even before he had been inaugurated into the order. A king who had not been given the time to prove himself to the world, he thought sadly.
"Yes, Jaehaerys," Ser Gerold said, nodding his head. "If all of you would agree, the last son of
Rhaegar will be King Jaehaerys, the Third of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." In all good time, of course.
Arthur nodded solemnly. "That should suffice."
Oswell said, "Good enough. Jaehaerys is a strong and respectable name. Let us hope that he does not grow physically like the last."
And now, all they needed was Lyanna's consent. They all looked at her. She was the babe's mother after all. The lady stared at her hands for a long time, muttering to herself things that Ser Gerold could not make out, before simply nodding her head.
"Rhaegar and then Aegon was meant to be the next kings," She said, shaking her hands and rubbing them together. "But...if this is for the sake of the realm."
"Then Jaehaerys it shall be." Ser Gerold said. "Son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark."
His sworn brothers waited for him below, but Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and knight of the Kingsguard, had one small errand to perform before he descended the tower. He had to see for himself the life he had sworn to protect. No, he had to see the lives he had sworn to protect from all harm.
Early sunlight was warming the bedchamber as he entered. He saw Lyanna Stark gazing out the window, as she had often used to do, before the news came of the Trident a week before and all of the life had left her eyes. One arm was resting on the ledge to hold herself upright; in the other, she cradled a small bundle wrapped in furs.
Her nightgown, stiff with dried blood, barely moved as she turned. The babe was asleep, Arthur saw, as he looked for the first time on the newly born son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The last living child of the greatest man who ever lived.
This boy, Rhaegar's only living son is my king now. The Lord Commander had confirmed it when the raven had come back from Dragonstone with the Queen's hasteful message. The knights had been surprised at how swift the reply had come, especially considering the dangers of the raven being struck down by Baratheon loyalists and the raging storms that were plaguing the island of Dragonstone. Arthur was relieved to know that she fully supported their decision to bypass Viserys. It was obvious that her bias for Rhaegar and hatred of her brother won the day, and she appreciated his desire to not see the second coming of Aerys II on the Iron Throne.
Truth be told, Arthur was glad that Viserys would not be king. That boy..Queen Rhaella had done her best to protect Viserys, from the worst of Aerys's excesses, keeping her child oblivious to the fact his father was sliding deeper into madness. But it seemed the younger son was becoming more like his father with every passing day. It was wrong of him to say, but Arthur had a feeling that Rhaegar would have agreed with his assessment.
Arthur had also been surprised to learn that the Queen was with child. A girl, if the maesters at Dragonstone were correct. He prayed that the gods would grant them a Princess.
The first word they had received about Eddard Stark was of his movements came from Arthur's Stark had lifted the siege of Storm's End and had made the Tyrells bend the knee to Robert Baratheon. They had not known what had become of him after, but now the Kingsguard knew firsthand of where Lord Stark was heading. They had seen him for themselves in the distance, climbing the mountains of Dorne with his northern companions.
The loss of the Reach was effectively a death sentence for the Targaryen cause. Ser Oswell had urged them to consider running to Dragonstone and joining the Queen, since Dorne would yield to Robert Baratheon as well. However, Lyanna Stark was in no state to travel; she had barely survived the childbirth, and was in a stupor most of the time.
No, we will not fail the mother of our king like we have the father, Arthur swore to himself.
"It's been over a year since I last saw my brother Ned, but even at a distance I knew him by the way he rides," Lyanna said, managing a weak smile. "He was never as good as Brandon or I. Better than Benjen, though then again anyone was better than Ben." Then she noticed the armor Arthur had put on, and the helm he carried under his arm. Her gaze came to rest on the hilt of the greatsword jutting out over his left shoulder, and her expression changed at once.
"You mean to fight him," she said, coldly.
Arthur hesistated. He did not want to fight Eddard Stark. He truly had liked the man when he had met and spoke with him at the tourney at Harrenhal, as shy and grim-faced as he had been. True Brandon Stark had always been the more impressive specimen, but the Wild Wolf was dead alongside his father. He did not even want to think of what his sister Ashara must be thinking now. Ned Stark was an honourable and dutiful man, taking his brother's place to marry Cateyln Tully and secure the Tully forces for the rebels even when he had not needed too, especially since half of the houses of the riverlands had fought under the Crown.
"Yes." He replied, sadness in his voice.
"Don't," she said. The fever made her eyes dazzlingly bright. "Don't," she repeated. She looked as if she would faint with the effort of staying on her feet. "Ned is a good man. He will not do anything to Jaehaerys or myself. We are his own flesh and blood. Let me go home with him. The war is over. Rhaegar is dead. There is nothing left for us here."
"Rhaegar entrusted me with this child's life," he reminded her. The child he did not live to see born. Arthur's jaw tightened as he thought of the prince's other children, murdered during the sack of King's Landing. They say little Rhaenys tried to hide under her father's bed, but they dragged her out all the same, and The Mountain That Rides ripped baby Aegon from his mother's breast and raped and murdered her with the brains of her son in his hands. They laid the bodies in front of the Iron Throne wrapped in red Lannister cloaks to mask the blood. I was not there. I could not save them, my prince!
Arthur clenched his mailed hands into fists. "I will never allow him to fall into the Usurper's hands," he swore to her, swore to Rhaegar, swore to himself. Yet somehow, he doubted he could save him. He could not save Rhaegar or Aerys, could not save Elia or her children. He hadn't been able to save Jaime from forsaking his honour and being labelled a Kingslayer.
Lyanna glared at him. "Ned hand my son over to be butchered by the likes of Gregor Clegane. Ser Arthur, you met him at Harrenhal. You know what type of man my brother really is. He had nothing but respect and awe for you. Do you really think he would give Jaehaerys up to be butchered? Do you really believe so." she said, fiercely. Though she shivered so violently with fever that her teeth chattered, Arthur half-believed she would take on The Mountain herself if given a chance and a sword. A she-wolf will tear out the throat of anything that threatens her pups. And King Jaehaerys Targaryen was half a wolf himself.
And no, Arthur did not truly believe it. He did not want to think that a brother would sacrifice his sister - his family - for his best friend and king. The water was sweet, but blood ran thicker.
He shook his head. "If Robert learned that your brother let a Targaryen child live, especially Rhaegar's trueborn son and heir, he'd be executed for treason."
"Not if Ned raised his banners against him," Lyanna countered. "If - a very big if - Robert had Ned executed, then the North would raise itself in rebellion for the unlawful murder of their liege, especially from the orders of his lord. Ser, you do not know northerners. We have learnt to hold a grudge and never let it go. Besides, my brother has his own son and heir by Cateyln Tully. If the North rebels, then the riverlands shall follow."
Damn it, but she was right. Even if Lord Stark was not able to help them in any considerably way of crowning Jaehaerys, was Arthur naive to be believe that he could help them escape from Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters? To reclaim Westeros from the Baratheons, Arthur and his brothers believed that they would need the support of eastern forces to take the Seven Kingdoms. Arthur suspected for them to obtain the strength needed, that they would need to marry Jaehaerys to a noblewomen from Valyrian descent. A girl with a powerful name.
He sighed, ""When you're well enough to travel," he continued as if he had not truly listened to her, "I mean to take you across the Narrow Sea. You can be a mother to your son there, out of Robert's reach." He knew it was a lie, but it was a harmless one. Childbed fever, the maester had called it. The girl would probably be dead by the next sunrise. Arthur did not want Lyanna Stark to die (he did not want his King to grow without his mother), but it seemed they could not avoid the unthinkable. Just as Ser Gerold had threatened to commit infanticide - an unthinkable act.
Tears began to glisten on her face, startling him. "Please," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "don't kill my brother. If you ever loved Rhaegar, let me go home. At least, let my son go north."
He turned abruptly, unnerved by her tears. "I did love Rhaegar, my lady." Longer than you ever did. But the guilt rose like bile in his throat as he swept down the stairs, Lyanna Stark's quiet sobs at his back.
Fuck my life, Arthur said as he walked down the stairs. Damn it all. Why did it all have to go to hell like this.
And with that, he went outside and took up his station with his brothers, guarding the entrance of the Tower and watching apprehensively for threats to his King's life. And he did not truly know if the seven men on horseback trotting towards them were enemy, or friend. He hoped for the latter. He prayed to the gods it would be the latter.
(1) - There is a relatively unknown theory on the ASOIAF forums that Jaehaerys the Second married one of the female descendants of Daemon Blackfyre after the War of the Ninepenny Kings. My friend chose to incorporate that into the story, and told me to number key points he would like to make.
(2) - According the Sworn Sword, Aegon the Unlikely was betrothed to his sister Daella Targaryen in his youth. However, his other sister Rhae Targaryen once slipped in a love potion so that he would marry her instead.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though all credit should go to my friend. I only edited it somewhat, since he is quite a terrible speller. And if you are wondering if my friend had cancer is the reason I did not update my other story, then you would be wrong. I have finals, and times are stressful these past few months.
Please review. All constructive criticism is appreciated. Also, I would like people's suggestions and help with something. Since Lyanna and Rhaegar's son is now born with the Targaryen colouring, I don't want to create a similar story to the "Prince in the Desert". I was thinking that Jaehaerys/Jon could be taken up to live up in the North, but I would think it would be complicated and unrealistic if Ned decided to raise him at Winterfell.
Please, let me have some suggestions from you guys. If you want him to be raised at Winterfell or Dorne, let me know by review or a PM.
Adios.