A SONG OF WOLVES AND DRAGONS
PROLOGUE
Wind howled through the windows of the room bringing in the foul stench of the city below. Rhaegar Targaryen stood, his hands clasped upon the window sill. His nose wrinkled at the foul breath and cursed himself for not being able to cleanse the city of its filth. Dirt and dust filled the city of King's Landing. He thanked the Seven that he seldom abided the city, always out on king's business.
He had woken early today even though he had slept late the night before. Sleep had not come to him as easy. Only two days before he was inspecting the ports of Duskendale. He was not quite satisfied with the port's functioning and the dragon had arisen within him. He had spoken a little harsh to the lord who was fumbling with his apologies. Rhaegar was miffed and of a harsher mood than ever before. He was going to go on with his words when a singer had stepped forward. Rhaegar loved songs; everyone had known that throughout the seven kingdoms. Rhaegar had frowned but allowed the singer to mouth his verse. After he had finished, Rhaegar was so moved that he rewarded the singer and asked him to serve in the capital rather than a portly town. The singer had accepted. But it was not the singer that had moved him; it was rather the words in the song. They had spoken of a beautiful woman yet it seemed to him she was unlike. Wild wolf, the song had said of her. The verses had given him a picture in his mind.
He still remembered her even in the fresh light of day. The picture was vivid. He did not know her name and the singer had refused to tell him. Only he would tell she was of the north. He wondered whether this woman was still alive or was just the singer's imagination or was she living before but now gone to the Stranger. The singer would tell no more. Rhaegar knew no more.
A servant knocked two times on the door. Rhaegar turned around and beckoned him in. The servant had brought him a platter as he always did as soon as Rhaegar would wake up. On a golden plate was a small tumbler of goat's milk and some fruits, especially apples and oranges which were specially brought from Dorne. Rhaegar liked oranges. They were his favorite fruit. As he chomped upon the juicy citrus pieces, he blessed the Dornish for their orange groves.
"Valmyr, set aside the plates. I shall call upon the king." Rhaegar said.
"As you say, my lord." The servant replied.
Rhaegar marched out of the room in unknown haste as if he had remembered something urgent. As he walked the holdfast with brisk paces, images passed through his mind, those of the long talk he and the king had had yestereve when he returned from Duskendale. The talk was that Rhaegar was to be married to Cersei Lannister, the famed beautiful daughter of the Hand, Tywin Lannister. He only hoped Cersei was the same as the wolf-girl the singer had sung of but then he remembered Cersei was the lion's daughter and the lion ruled the western lands and not the north.
He did not like the Lannisters too much and he was wary of Lord Tywin, the old lion of Casterly Rock. It was not a premise of love that was going to bind Rhaegar with Cersei but a favor his father granted the Lannisters and the Lannister desire to cement their position with the Iron Throne. Rhaegar could see that. Lord Tywin's intentions were clear to him but he would not defy his father, the king. He was loyal to the Realm, honored by all, and obedient to his father and king. He would do as commanded. He would marry this lion's daughter and live with her and give her his seed so the line could continue. He would make this young girl a queen but he would never banish this wolf-girl who had taken residence in his dreams and slowly gaining her way to his heart.
He entered the hall of kings, a huge hall pillared with stone. It was empty save for a man who seemed so distant tightly sitting upon the iron throne.
"Father" he cried, his voice loud and clear.
The man on the throne looked at him with his silver bright eyes. His hair was long, unkempt and unbraided. It was white with dashes of silver. Upon his head was the elaborate crown of Aegon the Conqueror. He was clad in golden yellow robes with a white under-tunic. On his hips hung a silver scabbard but within it was a tourney sword. Aerys he was, the son of Jaeherys, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and ever since the defiance of Duskendale, he was afraid of sharp implements. Swords, knives, daggers were not permitted near him save for the Kingsguard.
"Rhaegar" he said, his voice hoarse. "You wake early."
"Early? Perhaps but sleep does not come easy. Looks like it is the same for you, Your Grace."
The King's brows twitched. "Save your concerns about my sleep and my health. Always you do so whenever you are in this city. You eat so little, you sleep so less. I could care less about those things. Why do you care so much?"
"Because you are my father, my king, my lord. Is it wrong for me to care for your well being? I care for you because I love you."
"I am grateful or would be if you professed your love for that lion's daughter soon. I hear the wayns will reach the city by noon. Make ready the halls. A feast is in order. Let it not be said that the Targaryens have less gold than the Lannisters."
Rhaegar looked at his father glumly. He bowed and said, "So shall it be. I shall be betrothed to Cersei soon enough. If it makes you happy – "
"It does make me happy."
"But if you would reconsider – "
"Have you some shred of duty? Love me say you. Then do not forget your duty. It is to the Realm and your King you owe. I do not care if you do not love her or give her a place in your seemingly caring heart, generous as it is. But you must do this for the realm if for naught else. Go, do your duty. The Lannisters are coming from Casterly Rock and it is said they shit gold as they do." He spat as he completed the sentence.
Rhaegar bowed again. "Duty! Yes, to that I adhere, father. To that, I adhere."
Saying, he went away, the king's eyes piercing his back.
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