A rich, ringing sound flows softly through the room when the harpist plucked the strings of his instrument. There were the full-sounding notes that resonate for a long time. The low harp notes are often used to replace bells. The bottom strings have sufficient volume and reverberation to carry arpeggios. When playing glissandos, on the other hand, these characteristics result in a blurred overall sound and the lowest harp notes intrude on the glissando and are therefore avoided. The middle was a brilliant and warm timbre is characteristic of this register. Notes resonate for one or two seconds.
It is chiefly in this register that chords, harmony, arpeggios, glissandos and melody lines are played. If the harp is given a leading role as a melody instrument in this register and has no support from other instruments, the number of the other instruments must be no greater than in chamber music to avoid drowning out the harp's melody. The highest ones bright, hard, short and penetrating notes. The short decay time of the sounded string, but a general resonance develops from the soundbox, a kind of overall resonance of all the strings.
His thoughts wandered from his harp as a strong gust of wind brought the sea with it. The indigo eyes lifted from his instrument and to the open window he was in front of. He was seated on stone still of the window, back leaning against the side as stared down at the hustle and bustle of the folks below. Darkness had not long ago surrendered to the light, yet he could see the thick grey clouds that were cast over the sky.
The sea was tainted; no longer an abyss of black, nor did it appear blue. Instead, it looked a metallic grey, glistening as the occasional spear of light pierced through the clouds and danced over the surface. He was sure that rain would come with this weather. He thoroughly enjoyed the wetter weather, it was a nice change from Dorne.
It was a faint sound the grew into a light moan of pain which pulled his mind from the cloud. The man's head snapped in the direction of the moan as he slowly rose from where he was sitting. The harp was set down on a nearby table while he walked up to the king-sized bed near the center of the room, the gold, orange, and red of the bedspread made her appear smaller than she was. The indigo eyes roamed along the still body of the slumbering maiden.
The tightening of his jaw and the unforgiving glint in his eyes were all that were used to express his low boiling anger. Those who did not know him well enough saw him as a highly intelligent and talented musician as well as a skilled knight. He was known to be loved by all he's met, very few knew who he really was.
Silence. It follows him everywhere. He often used very few words, preferring to 'speak' in gestures and such. When he does speak, it's usually words he considers extremely important. Any other time, he believes words are evil. They can be twisted to mean something that isn't true, and therefore he refuses to use them unless necessary. While he may not necessarily seem like the nicest man, he hates to be alone.
He enjoys the company of others and gets lonely easily. However, while he does like to be with other people, he still doesn't talk much, and he certainly doesn't trust them unless he's been with them for a while. His temper though very existent is often hidden till he is alone. Then the fireworks begin, and an explosion there is.
Though he hides his sharp tongue in public places he can be as sharp-tongued as a dragon's talon. He is laid-back and maybe a little annoying, and can seem to have two sides; on one he is wise and careful, a piercing gaze seeming to stare right into your heart, and at other times he is calm, carefree, and maybe a little arrogant. But always there is the undeniable sense of his own free will always feeling as though he is being pushed to show his strength, he becomes sometimes to the point of half desperate to be right, to be strong, to be respected.
He is a born leader, confident and brave. Though of a gruff and rather quiet disposition – so much so that he appears almost shy and aloof, speaking only when needing to share something of importance. However, he is neither shy nor overly proud, but instead, a man with a strong silent will of iron, a drive for justice and the fairness of all dealings.
And, while his face may remain stoic, his eyes reveal the tumult of emotions within. He holds his people close, his friends closer, and family of the highest importance. He treats his followers with patience, never one to lash out in due to a job poorly done. He was an interesting man through and through, one with many secrets.
Rhaegar gave a low sigh as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched his half-sister sleep. Even with the bruise on the side of her face, the light cuts and scrapes that marred her otherwise perfect features, Rhaegar had no shame in admitting that Arthur had been right. Sintara Targaryen had the type of beauty that wars would be fought over for.
He still to this day wasn't sure when this unconditional love had begun to form...well in truth he knew he had fallen for the woman the moment he spotted her listening to him play his harp. He just hadn't realized just how deep the feeling was until now. It had started off with Arthur giving him reports on his mother, and slowly Sintara and her dragon become the focus of each letter. Rhaegar loved reading, books, poems, music, he enjoyed it all.
When reading Arthur's letters it was like reading a story, it was hard not to get drawn in with each word that was written. Reading about Sintara was like reading something out of a story, her qualities and actions drew his attention and his heart. It had started out as simply admiration for every struggle she went through alongside his mother under the Mad King, something he felt no woman but a Targaryen could even endure.
He had all but wept with rage when he had learned what had happened to her the day she first flowered. It had been a dark day for him indeed. The man swiftly shook the thought from his mind before his rage could consume him, she was here and safe or at least as safe as he could make her.
His eyes went back to the bruising at her jaw and lower side of her face. The maester who had tended to her had told him that although she had no broken bones in her jaw, she had lost two of the molars in the back of her mouth and would be unable to eat any solid foods. Her hand has somehow avoided any broken bones yet was highly bruised and would not be able to be used for some time.
Her ribs were cracked, three of them on one side. The maester had done what he could but Rheagar still needed to have a bonesetter look at her ribs. All in all, he would admit that this was minor for something worse could have befallen her. He was very unsettled with how a mere woman was able to throw off his judgment, his logic, and be ever-present in his thoughts.
This feeling of love, he had yearned for since learning who his mother was, but he would need to be more careful with it. It was a terrifying feeling at the same time pleasant, he feared what would happen if his enemies learned of it. Despite being beloved by most, not all wanted him where he was right now. He had pushed a nice amount of people out of the way to get where he was right now.
He felt more than enemies, what Sintara would do once she realized that he'd give her the sun, the moon, the stars and more if all she did was ask him. The fact that he wasn't seeking her love in return for his own made him feel pitiful. He'd be happy if she was happy. Rhaegar decided that he'd have to be careful and could hopefully succeed in keeping the last Targaryen female at a distance.
There was a knock against the wood door frame that had him leaving the bedside and walking towards the doors. There only two people who would dare disturb him at his quarters, and as he opened the door a woman dipped her head lightly before pushing past him into his chambers. She dared to go no further than the threshold until invited in.
As he shut the door his face remained impassive as looked at the woman who hid her curiosity behind a thinned lipped smile. Zecora was a tall woman nearly reach six feet in height, she had a thin and willowy frame with a decent bust. She looked to be in her late thirties, with skin so dark she appeared to be made of the night. Her hair was long reaching past her waist and was braided into what looked like several small painful, individual, braids. Her eyes were such a dark brown in color they appeared to suck all the light out of the world.
She was a rather exotic sight with the blue gown she had chosen to wear, nearly enough to rival Sintara. Rhaegar noticed the blade she held in her right hand and took it wordlessly from her. The man walked into the spacious room silently allowing Zecora the freedom to roam as she pleased. He left his bedroom to head into a second room used for meetings and council. Arthur's sword, Dawn, was placed on top of a large round table.
He had been so wrapped up in everything going on here he had almost forgotten that he had received any word of Arthur's whereabouts in a while. The man left the sword and return to his room to seek counsel with Zecora only to find the woman hovering over Sintara.
"Zecora." There was a warning in his voice one that was heeded at once as the woman backed away the sleeping Targaryen. Rheagar led the way into the meeting room and shut the doors behind him. "Stay away from her." He spoke as the doors clicked shut.
"I only wish to help, Master. I can heal her wounds in a matter of hours if you'd allow me to-" The woman had a slight accent that was unheard of in all of Westeros and Essos. Her words were cut off as Rhaegar waved a hand dismissing them.
"If you touch her, Zecora, I will cut out your heart myself and feed it to Sapphyre." There was a quiver in the woman's bottom lip and a great amount of tension in her balled up fists, but she managed a light nod at the threat. Zecora was Rhaegar's first in several things, it was through her that he had met his own dragon and realized he was destined for more than a simple ward of Dorne.
It was through her that he had achieved everything that he had now. The woman was always at his side, so frequently that many suspected that she was his mistress. They were right to a point Zecora was often used to warm the man's bed it was safer to sedate his urges with her than a random whore, but somewhere in this unusual relationship of theirs, Zecora believed them to be lovers. She wished to be his queen.
The woman was possessive and spiteful, swiftly take out anyone she thought was a threat to their 'love'. She says she came from Sothoryos and was often called a Witch Doctor or the Voodoo queen. The woman had lived so many lifetimes she had long ago forgot her true age. Because of her, so many women and even men have suffered a rather terrible and cruel fate as well as death.
Rhaegar was well aware of Zecora true nature and knew what she really was, a Dragon Shamen. A woman who taught him everything he needed to know about Dragons, what history she had of them, and how to care for them. Zecora had made a pact centuries ago with his dragon, Sapphyre, and still lived today to tell of it. She was needed but knew she would slowly become expendable with Sintara here.
"How is my dragon?" His tone of voice became gentle and concerned with the question. Sapphyre's chest had suffered some serious burns from the young male, Balerion. He hadn't know dragons could burn till now, the fire Balerion could breath was unheard of even to Zecora it had scorched off Sapphyre's scales and singed her flesh.
"She is healing just fine. I placed a poultice on the burns to smooth the pain and hasten the healing process. She's not happy with it, but is heavily impressed and, like you, is infatuated with the male." Zecora had been hoping that the dragon would side with her deal with the matter of the girl, but it would appear that she was alone. "Wouldn't it be easier if we moved her to the Maester's Quarters?" The woman hid her disdain at seeing the girl sleeping in her master's bed as if she belonged there.
It was Zecora who had stood at Rhaegar's side even as a child, she served the Dayne family but was always attentive to Rhaegar's needs before any other. She was the one who saw his greatness long before anyone else, she was the one who deserved to be at his side.
"No, she is safest here where I can watch over her." His tone of voice allowed no discussion with the matter. Rhegar was growing tired of her never-ending jealousy, he's told her numerous times that he held no ulterior motives beyond fucking her. He had tolerated her excuses and outlandish actions before, even going as far as monitoring how much time he spent in the presence of the of others, but he was growing annoying and tired.
He would not tolerate them any longer, certainly not with Sintara. "Have you seen Arth-" The loud and audible thump cut him off as his head snapped in the direction of the closed door leading to his room. If he had to take a guess she had just fallen off the bed, a feat difficult even for him. He pushed pass Zecora to head back into the other to deal with a probably very ticked off she-dragon.
He wakes suddenly. No sleepiness, no slow warming up. Within seconds of realizing he was unconscious he is on his feet, eyes wide, dreams not just forgotten but erased. He's drinking in the feedback of all his senses. It was cold, darkness wandered at every turned of his head. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness he noticed the stone walls that surrounded him.
His ears picked up the sound of running water not too far away and the scent of another within the enclosed area. He was in a massive underground chamber, a cave or cavern of sorts. This was someone's den, he didn't care all that much for who's right now he was more concerned with the whereabouts of his Hatcher, the last he had seen her he was sure she had fallen still. Those that fall still were often dead.
Balerion made to walk around, the rattling of chains caught his attention as he finally noticed the heavy weight on all four of his legs. He lowered his head to see the large shackles latched on to one, he was chained in here!? He let out a low snarl of distress hating the fact he was stuck, over the last year he had gotten used to the freedom of constant moving and living in the wilderness.
Being chained had him remembering the day he had been dragged away from his Hatcher and locked away, awaiting death. He refused to sit and wait like some bird-prey for the slaughter. He was going to get out, find his Hatcher, and leave this place it was not safe.
The young dragon began to walk forwards until the chains tightened and the cuffs put pressure on his ankles. He continued to move forward as pain tore through his scales and bit into the soft flesh underneath. This hurt a great deal, he felt the link briefly open assuring him that his Hatcher was alive but in a great deal of pain, some because of his actions now.
It was slammed shut suddenly leaving him with this hollow feeling. He stopped pulling and tug, growing more determined with this knowledge that his Hatcher was very much alive, he turned his head and parted his maw ready to gather fire in his gullet and burn through the metal.
'Stop that! You'll hurt yourself.' The voice boomed within his head and had him shutting his eyes and taking a step backward, the fire dying before it could begin. He heard the wing beats and felt the vibration through the earth as she landed at the mouth of the cave. Once he had shaken his head enough to regain his thoughts he parted his lips and exposed his fangs as a blue head and long neck appeared from around a corner.
The blue female walked into the darken area taking up a great deal of space which forced Balerion to back up a few more paw steps for her, immensely disliking giving ground to the female. He continued to growl and snarled at her and didn't even stop when she dropped the body of a young doe on the ground.
He could feel a pang of hunger ripped through his belly yet ignored it. When he didn't even stop to sniff at the fresh meal she had spent a decent amount of time hunting, Sapphyre's patience grew thin with his little act of defiance She had spent precious time hunting for something to feed him even with the scorch wound on her chest and he repaid her by snarling and growling, such insolence! What an impudent little brat!
'Where is my Hatcher?! What have you done to her?' It was Balerion's turn to drive his thoughts, anger, and hostility into her mind. Sapphyre, caught off guard by the attack, flinched slightly before tensing her body and standing tall. She knew he was just worried about the human that had gone with her Rider, but her pride and arrogance would not allow her to sympathize right now.
Females tended to be more aggressive, vain, and far more prideful than males, in the days when dragons were plentiful in the wild, the females were so formidable, it was considered among the bonded dragons a great achievement to mate with one. Such knowledge would be lost on someone as young as Balerion, but as far as Sapphyre was concerned he should be more than grateful for the chance to bask in the presence of the most beautiful creature in all of Westeros.
'Do not question me youngling, or you'll get more than just nip this time.' Sapphyre referred to the wound in the male's shoulder. She was expecting him to shut his maw and accept what she had brought, eat it as a sort of peace offering so she could explain to him what was going on, and then take him to this human female he was so concerned about. That did not happen.
'You can try if you'd wish, old one, but I dominated you the last time I think it's you who needs the warning.' Even in the darkened cave, he could see the mark he had left her. Where once beautiful blue scales rested, an ugly blacken patch of scarred flesh sat, the scales that once protected the skin had fallen off dying due to the intense heat blasted upon them. Whether the scales would grow back or the wound heal, Balerion was sure that it would scar forever.
A blemish on the once most beautiful creature in Westeros. The blue female had lost all her patience by then. She parted her maw and let free a roar that shook the walls above arched another hundred feet up to giant stalactites that swayed unsteadily with the sound. Before either could get into a roaring match, something new claimed both their attention and had their heads swinging in the direction of the voice.
"Balerion!" The voice was higher pitched and breathless filled with exhaustion. The pitch black male recognized it still, it had his heartbeat quickening and his mood lifting. Behind the blue dragon's bulk, his Hatcher appeared, bruised and battered, but alive. It looked as if every step she took was painful and he could smell her fear at the sight of the blue female, she masked it well as she limped over to him.
He radiated delight as he lowered his head and pressed his snout lightly against her small frame. He could tell that even the action of hugging him was hurting her, Sintara endured just to make sure he was really there.
"See, girl, I told you he was just fine." The accent drew him away from his Hatcher and towards the speaker. He couldn't fight the instinctive urge to tear the mud-skinned two-legged prey to pieces. He unconsciously drew his Hatcher closer to him and snarled at the two-legged prey. There was a touch of satisfaction building in his chest as he watches her cringe with shock and takes a step or two backward.
The blue female stepped forwards and growled at him again, as much as he would like to challenge the female he was more conscious of the chains that had him tethered and the fact that his Hatcher was with him.
"Enough Sapphyre." This voice, it was low and soft but powerful and commanding enough to send chills through a body. The two-legged prey attached to the voice looked highly similar to his Hatcher yet at the same time not. The blue female, to his surprise, submitted to the two-legged prey's order and backed down reluctantly. He remained watchful and on guard, yet stood down and lowered his head so that it rests on the cavern floor allowing his Hatcher to brush her fingers along the scales of his cheekbone.
"No more games, Rhaegar, you promised." One eye fell to his Hatcher as she addresses this Rhaegar, Balerion would do his best to remember that one's name. The fact that he had made the blue female bend to his will was a two-legged prey worth remembering.
"I did, Sintara, and I am a man of my word. I will tell you everything but you must keep an open mind about this." Rhaegar sounded troubled by this.
"After all I've been through I highly doubt anything could sound crazy right now."
"What about a war between the living and dead, between fire and ice, and that you are the Dragonborn?"
So next chapter I will explain what a Dragon Shaman/Zecora is, tell a little more about this war because it's not going to be exactly like the one going on in GOT right now(I think my ideal war it's a little cooler). The Dragonborn is not like the one from Skyrim, besides the name it has nothing to do with Skyrim. I am terribly sorry for any of the errors, again no beta.
I did not mean to make this into an incest story, but I love Rhaegar and felt like he didn't get enough justice in GOT, but due to the changes I made I wasn't sure how to make him fit in here. So he became a love interest of Sintara's, as well as many other things(if you haven't noticed he is the Sealord) he'll play a vital part in the story to come I have no plans on killing him off at the moment. Sadly he will never get the chance to meet Lyanna Stark.
Thank you for all of the favorites and followers, I honestly like seeing that people are interested in continuing to read this over getting reviews(although those are greatly appreciated). All in all just seeing one new reader fascinated with this story keeps me writing, so again thank you all.