Rhaegar
Once he had readied his saddle, Rhaegar pulled his cloak over his braided hair and led his horse out of the stables.
It was a beautiful day. The crowns of the trees were a brilliant green and the sun felt pleasant on his skin. The ruins of Harrenhall were massive, much bigger than Summerhall had ever been, but Rhaegar felt not the same melancholy he felt whenever he was visiting his birthplace.
Harrenhall was different. It was a place that showed the power of house Targaryen. Fire and Blood, as the saying went, though there was little left of House Targaryen's past might. Rhaegar had realized this the first time he had laid eyes on the ruins of the Dragonpit. Once the Dragonpit had been filled with countless dragons, but all of this had been destroyed through the Dance of Dragons. It was a pity and never failed to fill his heart with sadness to think of the fate of the dragons.
Mayhaps house Targaryen will soon find the same fate, he thought as he led his horse along the colorful barracks and tents that lined the inner courtyards of Harrenhall. Lords and Ladies from all over Westeros had travelled here to partake in the tourney. Even his father had suddenly decided to leave the Red Keep and had destroyed his plans.
That was the Spiders' work, he was convinced, but could voice such thoughts only in front of his friends, Jon Connington, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Myles Mooton and good Ser Richard Lonmouth.
Just thinking about it filled him with anger, but there was naught he could do. This battle was lost, but many more awaited him in the future.
The rumors that Rickard Stark intended to wed his only daughter to his cousin Robert Baratheon had only helped to increase his worries. The first match between his oldest son Brandon Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully could have been called a mere coincidence, but not the match between Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark. This was the forming of an alliance that would bind the North, the Stormlands and the Riverlands by blood. That Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale, was known to hold almost fatherly affections for Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, only increased his
Sadly, his Lord Father seemed completely unaware of these brewing plots, another courtesy by the bloody Spider.
"May I ask where we are riding, your grace?" Arthur's worried voice filled his ears. He didn't like that Rhaegar had asked of him to remove his white cloak and that they were riding around without guards, but Rhaegar needed time to breathe and to think. Elia's presence here didn't help either, but that was another lost cause. He had told her to remain at Dragonstone, least the babe or her get harmed, but her pride didn't allow it. Sadly, not even her pride, could rid her of her sickly health, something the Dornish had conveniently neglected to mention when they offered her as a bride. Rhaenys' birth had been perilous enough, but this babe might be the end of her.
Truly, it had been a pain for him to bed her with this terrifying knowledge resting on his mind and yet the realm needed an heir. If Rhaegar were to perish in battle he needed to leave the Seven Kingdoms to a worthy heir, but his father was mad and Viserys was becoming more and more his father's creature.
The dragon has three heads, he recalled the strange visions that had plagued him since early childhood.
More than once, he had dreamed of the Long Night and the terrors that came with it. Dead man walking and ice men ruling the world. Yet he had also seen the remedy for these horrors. Only dragons, fire made flesh, would be able to defeat the powers of ice.
The Prince that was Promised, he knew and recalled the prophecy his grandfather Jaehaerys had believed in. A prince meant to bring back eternal spring.
Yet such a prince or hero had not only been mentioned in prophecies, but in many tales of old and times long past. His name differed from land to land, but all these stories were connected by one fact that remained the same: that said hero or prince had banished away the darkness that had threatened to sallow the world.
The Long Night.
For a long time, Rhaegar had believed himself to be this promised prince, but now he knew that this was another folly. He had been born amidst salt and smoke, but his dreams always showed him a brown-haired boy with dark eyes like his. More than once he had tried to find Elia's and his own features' in the boy's face, but his face had been too long, too solemn to belong to a Martell or a Targaryen.
May I be wrong, he thought as he led his horse along the muddy road, past another row of tents. Ladies fluttered around him, page boys hopped out of the way and the soft voice of a minstrel filled his ears. May this babe be our promised prince.
As they passed another tent, they suddenly heard the shouts. Rhaegar stopped abruptly and angled his head in the direction of the voices and found soon what he was searching for.
He counted six people, but what exactly had happened between them was hard to say. One of them was cowering on the ground while two others were fighting off three larger boys with wooden practice blades. Even from afar, he could hear the cries and whimpers of the three boys, who fled moments later, leaving nothing but dust in their wake.
"What was going on there?" Arthur asked.
"A fight," Rhaegar replied, an amused smile curling on his lips. "And it seems the weaker party won. We would ask them if they need help."
"Do you think that is wise, your grace?"
"No, but one of them seems hurt," Rhaegar countered and kicked his feet into the sides of his horse.
Behind him he heard Arthur's complaints, but Rhaegar's attention was already directed elsewhere, namely the three strangers. At first, he had thought them to be squires, but he was more than surprised when he found a girl among them. She was clad in dirty breeches and a white tunic, but her even-shaped face, full lips and long brown hair betrayed revealed her identity.
"Beware, strangers! This man is under my father's protection, Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North!" the girl shouted and raised her practice blade. She couldn't be much older than ten and four, but that serious expression of hers made her look older than her years, though it didn't dim her beauty one bit.
It was a strange beauty. Elia face was soft, but this girl's features were sharp and unyielding, like the glowering look she was giving him.
And yet he couldn't help but to be amused by the girl's bravery. It took a lot of guts to threaten a stranger and it took even more guts to threaten a Prince, though she didn't know that.
That she was his cousin's betrothed only helped to increase his interest.
"Have no fear, Lady Lyanna," he assured her and raised his hand in a sign of peace. "We saw your peril and merely wanted to inquire whether you or your friends are in need of help."
The mention of her name only deepened her frown.
"How do you know my name?" she asked mistrustfully.
Rhaegar couldn't help but to smile.
"You mentioned that Lord Rickard Stark is your father. Even in the south we know the name of Rickard Stark's only daughter."
"It seems you are famous, sister!" one of Lady Lyanna's companions added. It was a boy, who shared her sharp face and her brown hair. This must be one of her brothers, perhaps the youngest, though Rhaegar forgot his name.
"Oh, shut your bloody mouth, Benjen!" Lyanna snapped angrily and stepped closer, her wolf eyes eying him from head to toe.
"Who are you?" she asked, trying to glimpse under the hood of his cloak.
"Ser Richard," Rhaegar lied and pointed at Arthur. "And this is Ser Oliver. We serve the Prince of Dragonstone."
Then he shifted his attention to the young man, garbed all in green. Blood was dripping from his mouth and his face was littered with bruises.
"I already know that you are Benjen Stark and Lady Lyanna Stark, but your friend has yet to introduce himself. He also looks in dire need of a Maester if I may say so."
Yet Lady Lyanna remained mistrustful as ever.
"Why should I trust you, Ser?"
"Why not?"
"Because you are a bloody stranger."
"Bloody here and bloody there," Rhaegar teased her. The scowl cast on her face only helped to enhance the girl's wild beauty. "You really have a sharp tongue for a Lady."
"Do not call me my Lady!" she snapped, but Benjen pulled on her arm and silenced her.
"Please forgive her, Ser," Benjen apologized and helped the wounded man to his feet. "We brought no Maester with us, but as you can see Lord Howland Reed is in dire need of help."
Rhaegar dipped his head in understanding.
"The Prince of Dragonstone has a Maester in his employ," Rhaegar explained. "I am sure he has a moment to spare for Lord Reed."
"Why would the Prince of Dragonstone care about us?"
Rhaegar smiled.
"The Prince of Dragonstone won't mind. This I can promise you, my Lady," he assured her and waved his hand at Ser Arthur. "Ser Oliver will lead you to Maester Gaerion."
Arthur gave him a stunned looked.
"Is that so?"
"That is so, Ser Oliver. We shall also have need of your horse. A wounded man shouldn't be forced to walk."
"I understand," Arthur replied and soon they were helping Lord Reed on Ser Arthur's horse.
"I thank you, my friends," the man thanked them once he was seated in the saddle. "I shall not forget your kindness."
"No need, Lord Reed," Lyanna Stark assured him and walked next to the horse led by Arthur. Rhaegar had long climbed back into his saddle, but was leading his horse in a slow pace. "These squires got what they deserved. Next time I will drag them before my brother to face justice. You only have to tell us if they try harming you again, my Lord."
"I shall," Lord Reed confirmed, but seemed hesitant. He swayed in his saddle, but smiled at Rhaegar and Ser Arthur.
"I have to thank you as well, good Ser," Lord Reed replied kindly and dipped his head. "Your kindness shall not be forgotten."
Rhaegar nodded his head and soon they were making their way back to the camp.
Rhaegar kept his head lowered, least someone recognized him, but his fear was unfounded. They were able to enter the camp without problems.
Not long after, Rhaegar excused himself and pretended that he had to take care of the horses while Arthur led the Starks and Lord Reed to Maester Gaerion.
Thus, the Prince of Dragonstone spent the evening in company of stable boys and squires alike. At first, they were confused by his presence, but soon they readily helped him taking care of the horses. Once they were finished, they sat down and offered him a cup of wine, telling him japes and tales they had heard about the lords and ladies attending the tourney.
Arthur returned hours later, his face weary from the long day.
"It seems you enjoyed yourself, your grace," he remarked as they left the stables behind them. The fresh air was pleasant, but his mood was dimmed when he thought of the coming feast. He would have to face his father, a man he had tried to stay away from over the last year.
"Did Maester Gaerion attend to Lord Reed?" Rhaegar asked, as they made their way through the crowd of people. "Did he sell me out?"
"No," Arthur assured him. "All is well, but Princess Elia will be asking why your Maester was attending to a stranger."
Rhaegar shrugged his shoulders as they neared his pavilion.
"It is me," he explained to the guards and pulled down the hood of his cloak. They immediately dropped their spears and allowed him entrance to his tent.
Inside, he found a warm fire and Elia in company of Lady Ashara Dayne.
Lady Ashara's smiled brightly when she noticed Arthur and quickly pulled her brother out of the tent.
"You are back," Elia stated, but didn't rise from her chair. She was garbed in fine red dress, her black hair coiled atop her head with a red ruby. She looked elegant, but incredible frail, despite her swollen belly. "And you stink. Did you sleep in the stables, Rhaegar?"
Rhaegar shrugged his shoulders.
"I didn't sleep there. I was hiding."
Elia frowned, like his mother used to do when he had too much cake.
"Have you been playing one of your mummeries?" she asked and sighed deeply as she leaned forward.
Rhaegar nodded his head and sat down. Then he started to pull off his dirty boots and cloak.
"I needed fresh air, before I am going to face my father and along the way we came about the Stark children, defending a certain Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch against three pesky squires. Lord Reed looked badly hurt and thus I offered our help. Of course, I didn't reveal myself to them, least father thinks I am conspiring with the enemy."
"He always thinks that," Elia pointed out and smiled weakly. "And he is going to embarrass us tonight."
"I know," Rhaegar confirmed and shrugged his shoulders as he rose back to his feet. "And that is why I need to get a proper bath, least I smell like a stable boy."
"Your clothes are laid out for you," Elia called after him, but Rhaegar had barely heard her. His mind was darting back to the Stark girl…
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