AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey there. I told you we were going to King's Landing next, and we are, but not just yet. We have to make a stop in another place before moving to the capital. The characters from part I will be out of scene for a few chapters. Regarding Cersei's prophecy, the reveal about the Herald of Truth is meant to be interpreted as someone powerful enough to make justice. It can be many people, and Cersei will eventually wonder who those people might be. Sorry if it was disappointing. Regarding the maturity of Cersei, well, it seemed right when I wrote it. I will try to adjust the tone further on.
I have realized now that I'm exploring more and more the Targaryen mythology around the time of the Defiance. This chapter is different from any other chapter I have written, but it was fun. I'm having quite a lot of fun writing this story so far.
PART II
THE DEFIANCE
JON I
277 AC
"I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair."
The song echoed softly through the Hall of Wings.
It is a myrish song, Rhaegar had once told him. A sad and sweet song, if played the right way. And he did, playing it with a cadence as sweet as rain on a summer morning. His fingers, so long and slender, caressed the dragon-shaped harp, flying delicately from string to string. It was an entrancing sight, especially rare to find in an autumn night in the Stormlands. But there he was, sitting on a three-legged stool as if was nothing more than a bard traveling down the road.
"I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair."
The silver hair fell to his face, veiling his purple eyes.
Many candles had been lit on the hall, keeping the darkness at bay. The long table still bore the remnants of the small feast, but no one seemed to notice. Roasted meat, capon, wine and all kind of colorful fruits crowned the tabletop. The servants wouldn't dare step in the hall to collect the dishes. They were watching from the doors or the windows of the gallery. Even the dogs were silent and still.
Someone sniffed beside him, making him move his eyes from the prince.
Lady Alyna Seymout was crying, drying her eyes discreetly with the corner of a handkerchief. She was not the only one, as he quickly realized. There were tears glistening like diamonds in the faces of every woman. And who could blame them? When he had heard the same song, years ago, his own eyes had become wet.
"I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair." Rhaegar finished, as the last note sang from the silver strings of his harp.
Applause filled the hall as the prince climbed down from the tool. He bowed to his audience thrice. Jon clapped along, with a wide smile on his lips. It was good to see somethings never changed, no matter where you go or how many years pass. The prince was well-loved by the people of the Seven Kingdom. There was no doubt about that. Even though he had been knighted the year before, he seemed less like a warrior every year that passed.
"Jon." Father grabbed his forearm gently, taking advantage of the distraction. "Promise you will give him a word."
When the crown prince had come down Griffin's Throat unannounced, wearing a hooded cloak and passing as a hedge knight, Lord Armond Connington had thanked the Gods for this blessing. His body was deteriorating to the point of Maester Lygas acknowledging he wouldn't last many years. Even so, he was determined to seek the Targaryen support against his rivalry with House Morrigen. A minor dispute of lands that Father was obsessed with and that wanted to sort out before his body was put to rest.
"I will do my best, but I can't promise the outcome you pray for."
"You don't give yourself enough credit, my son," Armond replied, his voice shaking slightly. Pride gleamed as a smile took form in his lips. "The prince looks at you like a brother. He will consider the petition if it comes from your lips."
Jon smiled, but briefly. Rhaegar would hear him, yes. He would even try to intercede with the King or the Hand. Nonetheless, Rhaegar was not the one sitting on the Iron Throne. Gossip from the capital told Aerys Targaryen was growing deeply jealous of his son. Such a request could place Rhaegar in a delicate position among the power games he so much despised.
"I will talk to him, Father. Rest easy."
The feast ended slowly. Most of the ladies made their best to greet personally the prince or give him a word or two. He was still to marry, thus making him the most desirable bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms. Allegedly, a few offers of marriage had been placed before the King, but all of them had been bluntly refused. It seemed Aerys was set to find the perfect bride for his son.
Or no bride at all.
Rhaegar looked exhausted, but the smile never faltered from his lips. He returned the harp to his squire, Myles Mooton, before giving his attention to young Lady Hilien Holgan. Lady Alyna, with her eyes still red from all that crying, was also a contender for the prince's attention.
"Who will rescue him this time, my lord? You or me?" Myles Mooton, who had sat down the table the entire evening, took the empty seat at Jon's side.
Jon laughed, sipping some more wine.
"I daresay he doesn't need saving, Myles." His eyes flashed to Rhaegar again. He seemed a little awkward between the ladies, but cordiality and kindness were attributes he donned as well as the red cloak on his back.
"Oh, he does," Myles replied, with a smile warm enough to touch his own voice. "They love him because he loves them all so easily, but it would do him good to say no to some of those ladies sometimes. I don't know how he is standing up right now. We have been traveling from Summerhall all day. He must be as tired as the Crone." He exchanged a glance with Jon. "I am for sure."
Summerhall.
He had suspected Rhaegar was coming from the ruined palace. He had come to the castle's door, wearing a hooded cloak and being accompanied only by his squire. Just two ragged travelers going down the road. Both of them could have easily passed as hedge knights, and not as a royal entourage.
"So, he traveled to the palace again?"
Myles smiled.
"He did, yes." A bit of nostalgy touched the squire's lips. "I feel like he belongs there somehow."
Summerhall had been destroyed the day Rhaegar was born. The tragedy had resulted in the death of King Aegon V, as well as his eldest son, Prince Duncan, the so-called Prince of Dragonflies. Rumors about sorcery and an attempt to hatch dragon eggs had spread the following years as the reasons behind the destructive fire.
"Yes, I know," Jon answered.
He can't be haunted by the tragedy forever.
As time passed, the candles started burning out in pools of wax. The servants came to remove the dishes. Rhaegar had left the ladies to be surrounded by a few lords wishing to congratulate him for his recently acquired knighthood or to talk privately about matters regarding their lands. Just as Myles had said, Rhaegar never said no. He listened and, as far as Jon noticed, there was always a genuine interest gleaming in his eyes.
He is too good.
Finally, Father ended the feast, raising his glass to propose a final toast.
"To His Grace, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and our beloved King Aerys II! May the Targaryens live long!"
The people toasted and cheered, drinking one last time.
"Good luck, my boy." Father murmured into Jon's ear before leaving his chair. "We will toast ourselves in the morrow, I hope."
Jon bid his Father goodnight, before turning to the prince's squire.
"I guess I will me be the one rescuing him, then," Jon whispered to him. Myles, it seemed, had taken notice of Lady Alyna's beauty.
The squire winked at him, before leaving his seat to walk toward the ladies.
"Your Grace, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I would very much like to give you a word in private," Jon said, a few seconds later, touching Rhaegar on the shoulder. He was hearing a tale about the Tournament of Ashford from old Ser Crassing, a knight sworn to House Connington.
Rhaegar looked over his shoulder and smiled with relief.
"I couldn't refuse you under your own roof, my friend. If you will excuse me, Ser Crassing—"
Under many eyes, they started walking out of the hall.
"Myles teased you needed salvation, but I didn't believe him," Jon smirked, as they walked out of the hall. "But it seems you actually did."
"Myles will be the one needing salvation tonight if he doesn't mind himself," Rhaegar observed, noticing the squire was trying to catch Lady Alyna's attention.
"Leave the lad for a night, my prince. I bet he will be falling asleep in less than an hour—"
"My prince?" Rhaegar asked, teasingly. "I thought we had agreed you wouldn't call me that again when you were eight-years-old."
When Jon was a little boy, he had been sent to King's Landing to squire to an Uncle from his mother's side that served as Kingsguard, Ser Harlan Grandison. Rhaegar was a year older than him, but he was also squiring to Ser Gerold Hightower. A friendship between the two had been inevitable during their sword practices in the courtyard. Though he had returned to Griffin's Roost three-years ago, his friendship with Rhaegar had continued over letters.
"Most of the people in that room wouldn't consider gallant of me if I were to address you by your name," Jon explained what seemed rather obvious.
"You were always more aware of the rules than I," Rhaegar concluded, with his iron voice. "Well, I was wondering if you could take me to Nestower, my friend. I would very much like to contemplate the bay from there."
Nestower was the highest tower of Griffin's Roost castle. At such a late hour, the path to the top would be dark, but Jon couldn't refuse such a request. They grabbed some torches from the gatehouse and them up they went along the spiral staircase. As they climbed, it was like the old times. Memories from the days in King's Landing emerged as they remembered stories about hunting cats in the castle, evading guards to steal pies in the kitchens or borrow books from Grand Maester Pycelle.
"I miss how innocent we were," Rhaegar said at a time, dreamily.
Eventually, they started talking about more recent matters. The Tournament of Lannisport for one, and the victories Rhaegar had managed on the lists before Ser Arthur Dayne had defeated him. The tension regarding Duskendale, provoked by the continued refusal of Lord Denys Darklyn to pay his taxes. And, of course, the royal family.
"You traveled alone." Jon pointed out. "Shouldn't you have a Kingsguard by your side?"
Rhaegar shrugged. It was clear he had touched a sensible nerve.
"My Father needs his Kinguards at his side." He simply said. "He believes someone might try to kill my baby brother."
But not his oldest son, Jon thought to himself, confirming his suspicions.
"I heard the king was protecting the baby at Maegor's."
Jon had many questions, just like anyone else. Was there a real threat? Could there be an enemy only the crown knew about? Or was this only the feeble fear of a worried father? As far as Jon knew, the royal couple had reasons to be stressed out, yes. He could still recall the names of the princes who had been born and who had died within a year. Daeron. Jaehaerys. Aegon. Even so, the infants had died from health issues. None of them had been murdered. At least, not officially.
Rhaegar, as he expected, didn't comment any further.
"And how is your Mother?"
Queen Rhaella had always been kind to Jon, especially after his mother's death. She used to give him sweets and, sometimes, she would even invite him to dinner with Rhaegar in her chambers.
"She is better now." Rhaegar continued, and a smile flashed through his lips. "The birth was not an easy one, as we were expecting. But she is recovered, and when I left the city she was back on her gardens."
"I'm glad to hear it."
As they climbed the steps, only their breath was heard for a few seconds.
"I thought you would be married by now," Rhaegar spoke out loud. "You left King's Landing, as I recall because your Father wanted to marry you."
Jon laughed, taken aback by such a witty remark.
"I told you the betrothal was broken off." He said. He had almost married Jeyne Morrigen, solving thus the matter of lands. But little Jeyne had married one of her cousins. "And you? What is your excuse for not being married, my prince?"
Rhaegar laughed back.
"Not having a sister, I guess."
Their laughter filled the tower.
"Well, answering in a simple way," Rhaegar finally managed to say, cleaning the tears that laughter had brought to his eyes. "Father hasn't found me a suitable bride yet."
"That's pretty clear," Jon replied. "I'm sure he will find soon enough, though."
"Yes, I guess he will." Rhaegar continued. "Lately, he has been inclined to find me a bride from Essos."
"Essos?"
Jon was not expecting that. Neither was the entire realm.
"I suggested I could go to Volantis, or even to the Free Cities, just to try and find a suitable bride." Understanding how Jon frowned in admiration before such a remark, he quickly explained himself. "Don't judge me, my friend. You know how I always wanted to travel across the Narrow Sea. This would be the perfect opportunity to do so. But Father wouldn't hear about it. He says the heir to the Iron Throne doesn't have to travel to foreign lands when he can simply send people to do that for him."
"Even so, a bride from Essos would be atypical."
"An alliance with the Free Cities could prove useful in the future." Rhaegar shared, showing he had considered the matter in his mind. "Grand Maester Pycelle tells me it would benefit our trading deals."
"But would the people love a foreign queen?"
Jon turned his face to see how Rhaegar would respond to that. Even though they were climbing the stairs, the flames from their torches were enough to show his face. The smile on the prince's lips told him how much he missed him. It warmed his heart somehow.
"You should never have left King's Landing, you know?" He said. "Your guidance would prove useful quite a few times."
The prince looks at you like a brother.
"You hold me in high regard, Rhaegar. I don't believe I deserve it."
"You see what I fail to see most of the times," Rhaegar said, finishing with a sigh. "My mind is not focused on the court or the intrigues that move its people. Most of the times, my mind is somewhere else. If I had you at my side, my path would be easy."
"What do you mean?"
Rhaegar smiled a sad smile.
"It's hard to explain, I'm afraid."
"Are you in love?" Jon asked, forcing a smile. "Has a lady at court finally captured your heart?"
The sad smile on the prince's lips brightened.
"No, nothing of that."
Rhaegar had kissed two ladies at court but, as far as Jon knew, nothing else had happened. And those kisses had been almost stolen by the ladies after the prince had played his harp to them. He usually kept himself to books. In a place like King's Landing, it was a rare thing for a man of his rank and age not to fall in love.
A robber in a coffer full of gold that doesn't steal a single coin.
"If it isn't your heart, then what is it that bothers you?"
The prince sniffed and grew serious.
"I will tell you in a bit, my friend."
For the remainder of their climb, their talk resumed back to Jon.
"No, no else for me." He admitted after Rhaegar questioned if there was a lady under his eye. "My Father wanted to marry me to another lady, but she eloped to a Motherhouse when she heard she had to marry me."
It was partly true, but Rhaegar hadn't to know it. The sound of his laugh was good to hear. As talk focused now on Jon, he told the prince about the disputed lands a few miles West from Griffin's Roost. It was the right occasion to bring up the matter. Rhaegar heard it carefully, placing a few questions to gather all the information. He even offered to pass through the lands in question on his way to the capital.
Finally, they reached the top of the tower. Jon unlocked the small trapdoor on the ceiling, while Rhaegar dragged the iron ladder to climb to the top. A gust of wind greeted them as they climbed into the night. Darkness enveloped the land around Griffin's Roost, but the moon was full enough to cast a silver light over the endless sea. The castle was placed on a lofty crag, jutting out from the shores of Cape Wrath. From there, they contemplated the red stone cliffs that descended into the stormy waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The Griffin's Throat, the long natural ridge that served as the entrance to the land, was submerged in darkness.
"How quite beautiful," Rhaegar said, approaching the battlements. His eyes were lost on the bay. "Do you imagine how it would be to fly over the sea?"
Jon stood right at his side. The wind caressed his face, disheveling his red hair.
"It would be quite thrilling."
"Yes, I'm sure it would be."
They stood silent for a few seconds that seemed to last for an eternity. The waves crashed against the cliffs and a few gulls flew over the water. It was a calm autumn night.
"I have recently understood the beautiful things of the world are also the heaviest," Rhaegar said, breaking the silence.
Jon turned his face to Rhaegar and noticed there were tears glistening in his eyes.
But he is smiling.
"Rhaegar." Jon started, alarmed. "Is something of the matter?"
Maybe there is a hidden threat back at the capital.
"No," Rhaegar confirmed, sighing. As quickly as they had come, the tears were gone. "I'm fine. I just get emotional every time I travel down to Summerhall."
The shadow of Summerhall.
"Summerhall again?" Jon insisted. "Why do you keep going there? The palace is nothing but a ruin."
"It feels like home." Rhaegar continued, his word quickly taken by the wind. "More than King's Landing ever did."
Jon couldn't understand it, so he decided Rhaegar continue.
"Sometimes I just feel I have to go there." Rhaegar's eyes were back on the sea. "The intrigues of court, all those rules I have to follow, everything… It becomes too heavy for me. I just have to flee for a few weeks, once in a while, to walk along the halls of the palace and remember what it means."
"You are the Prince of Dragonstone. The heir to the crown." Jon said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. For the first time, he saw what Myles had seen. A tiredness Rhaegar concealed almost perfectly. An act to be the perfect prince. "I imagine it is not easy to bear such weight alone, but you can't let Summerhall unsettle you. The tragedy doesn't mean anything about who you are."
Rhaegar turned to him and, for the first time, he seemed confused.
"Unsettle me? You are wrong, Jon—"
"You are emotional, Rhaegar." He had to interrupt the prince. It was time to force some sense into him. "Emotions are a sensible trait for a prince. That's why your people love you. But if you are blaming yourself for what happened the day you were born, you have to crush those feelings before they devour you. I fear the tragedy may be clouding your mind. You were a babe, and such a shadow can't haunt your life forever."
Rhaegar smiled, shutting his friend by placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You mistake me, my friend." He said. "Yes, I am an emotional man, but my mind is not weak or clouded. I am aware of my duties. The reason why I kept traveling to Summerhall is another."
"Then I beg your forgiveness, my prince. I didn't want to offend you—" He remarked, not at all convinced.
"You are far from offending me, Jon." Rhaegar removed the hand. "This proves you should be at my side at King's Landing."
"At your side?"
"This is part of the reason why I decided to stop here. There is tension in the Red Keep. There always was, but lately, it has grown worse. I can feel something is coming. My Father does his best to rule with justice, but his fears are taking hold of his good heart. I play the game they want me to play, but you always played it better."
Jon was speechless. The confession from Rhaegar's lips was something he was certainly not expecting.
"I was never one of making many friends," Rhaegar added. "But the ones I did, I treasure. And you are my closest friend, Jon."
"Rhaegar, I would like to return with you, but my father is ill and—"
"You don't have to come now." Rhaegar stopped him immediately. "I don't want to place such a burden on your shoulders. But soon I may need you, and I would very much like to have you at my side."
Jon nodded, understanding what he meant.
"I don't understand, though," Jon said. "How does this relate to Summerhall?"
Rhaegar smiled, removing his hand from Jon's shoulder to face again the sea.
"Lately, I have been following whispers, prophecies and blotted pages." He said. "Summerhall has become my haven, the only place where I can recollect my feelings and plan."
"Plan?" Jon asked, taken aback. He looked around. They were alone, far from any ear. "What could you be planning? Are you telling me you want to—?"
Is he preparing to rebel against his own Father?
No, that wasn't Rhaegar.
"Dragons, Jon."
And then it all made sense.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this was fun to write. It was hard to portray Rhaegar since the bits of information we have are so scarce. However, his connection with Summerhall is intriguing and I want to explore that here. I know this is going at a slow pace, but I'm setting the stage for greater things. Please, let me know if you are reading and liking this. I'm putting so much work into it, and I really want to understand if this is going the right way!
