RETURN OF THE DRAGONS
Lady Grey,
Greetings from a poor soldier of fine literature and an ardent admirer of dark magic! I hope you are doing fine, considering how irresponsibly I broke your wall of ego by my indigent scribe work. Had I mentioned only that one line of how there is no way to find how dragons choose their rider over the seven pages, would you have responded to me?
That being said, I feel flattered knowing my work would be treasured in your secret vault. What I am intrigued about is to know the secrets that could be uncovered if you grant me access to your vault. I would leisurely investigate all your cache, like a child would open its name day presents. While we are on the matter of presents, I hope you receive the goatskin and the long bald eagle's quill that King Jaehaerys the Conciliator himself used to write the nature of dragons' bonding to support my theory. Add these to your secret vault, too.
Unless proved wrong, I will climb any mountains to search for the fountain of truth, Lady Grey. And although you disapprove of my theories, I have a strange hunch that you resolutely believe in dragons and its return. Do you not?
And I wish you find your endeavors in hunting, unharming. Although, I myself never took any liking to see blood, sometimes we have to harden our soul for the greater good.
~Lord Black
Allara laughed hysterically, unable to believe the goatskin and the bald eagle's quill that she held in her hand was King Jaehaerys's. The echoes of laughter from the crypts rippled, striking every stone of the old Kings of Winter. She tested the authenticity of the goatskin, while sipping wine from one hand, lying on a straw mattress on the seventh level beneath the crypts with twenty incense candles surrounding her.
Some dead old ancient King Brandon Stark was judging her innocence, perching on his cold throne with a stone direwolf next to him, as she giggled reading her mystery comrade's missive over and over.
Who is this mystery man? How did he get access to late King Jaehaerys's possessions? Are all these even real treasures or work of some invalid scribe in Oldtown, trying to cheat me through false informations?
Allara had countless questions that she needed answers for. But even through all her doubts, she was terribly impressed by this man's words. Perhaps loneliness would do such marvels to young minds. Or the incompetency in earning twenty gold coins, even after ten rides into the wood, killing so many boars, bucks and musk deers had made her a bitter person. Either way, sorting an invisible companion felt too comforting and amusing.
Lord Black,
Never a Targaryen King's treasure has decorated my vault, and I am over the moon to receive your incredible present. Yet, more than the present and your presentation, your identity piques me, my lord. What dark magic arts have you scholared in the Citadel? Have you forged a chain of Valyrian steel already around your neck? I have a thousand questions and more to know about you.
And yes, you rightly caught my attention by your one line deduction. Still, I refuse to accept your theory as even Kings are prone to make mistakes. My wishes of good fortune will stay by your side in your mountain climbing adventures to prove me wrong.
There are thousand buried fouled secrets that stink in my vault, my Lord. I wonder if you would be really curious when you happen to chance by it. One such are my dragon dreams - scales black as sin, a monstrous dragon chase me in the cold lands. I endure a breathtaking experience in all those dreams that I often feel like I have been living a double life.
However, they are nothing but dreams. And the distant wonderment of return of the dragons are left to Conclaves of your order to explore, which I neither share nor believe.
But, if you have kindness and real dark magic in your hollowed sleeve, instruct me the ways to stop these dreams, for they consume half my soul. I will not accept dream wine and milk of the poppy. Even when I write these, I must confront to my secret comrade that these dreams gave me comfort at times of desperation. Nevertheless, I want to get rid of them. If you are an expertise in true magic, I will pay you a good gold coin in exchange for your service.
My latest endeavor in hunting was not for any greater good other than my selfish wish to earn few coins. Yet, your words soothe my mind. In return for your splendid present, I affix this rarest copy of the history of First men and the Children of the forest, translated from Old Tongue to common tongue, by me.
~Lady Grey
Once she neatly rolled the thin parchments of ten pages of the history, Allara started putting out all the candles and walked relaxedly to the Maester's turret, in hopes of asking him to send the missive out to her curious comrade. Her excitement and happiness burned down to ashes, upon reaching the Maester's chamber, when she found her father stand by the open window and stare at the courtyard.
Allara wasn't supposed to even come near the vicinity of his presence, as per his orders, and now she was sure there would be another punishment waiting for her. When the Maester noticed her presence, suspecting she was ready with a response missive, eyeing her hand with a scroll, her heart skipped a beat wondering if her father already figured out her secret divertissement.
She instantly swirled around before getting caught, but his voice, as strong as iron, stopped her.
"Allara" he called. Fretting with guilty when she turned to see him, he extended his arm. For a fine moment, she thought he was asking for the missive, and sweat drops ran down her face. But he walked close to her and offered his arm. "I have been meaning to speak with you. Will you accompany me to my solar?"
Seven moons... After a long time, she was hearing him and every last bit of anger in her was turned to be swallowed sorrow, trying to emerge out as tears. If her father was a kinder man, she would have wept on his shoulder, begged on her knees to take her back. Neither was he a better man, nor was she a perfect daughter. And silencing that ugly truth in her head, she nodded and wound her arm in his.
As she exited the chamber, the Maester silently pulled the scroll from her hand. Unable to convey him any information but confident in knowing her secret would forever remain as a buried one, she simply gave him a nod of acceptance and left.
Her father's solar shuddered her body with all the unorganized items splayed around. The books and ledgers were lying ubiquitously on the table. The candle holder had not been cleaned in all the seven months, with remnants of its wax scattered in a disarray. The tapestries and carpets were not cleaned or changed. This was her sanctuary of work where she dedicated scrupulously on every tiny detail. Upon finding it in such poor conditions, her stomach coiled.
When her father reclined on the chair by the hearth, her hands started working on its accord on the table, arranging the ledgers, parchments and letters, as per the time it had arrived. And with minor work by the candles and lamps, she brightened the chamber. Yet, there was much to be addressed, and she decided to instruct the household to look into the tapestries and carpet.
"There is magic in your hands, just like your mother, Allara." Her father said. She shouldn't be doing this work. That was not the reason he bought her to the chamber, but her desperation made her cross the line. Fidgeting with her fingers, she approached him and silently waited for him to speak. But he simply stared at her.
If he was staring, she was reading every worry line on his face that seemed to have increased in her absence. His eyes were bulging red, probably due to not sleeping at the right time or unable to sleep.
Does dreams haunt you as it does to me, father?, she thought.
Only when a maid arrived and placed a jug of water on the table, he made a move to clear his throat. The girl was new, Allara observed and frightened of her father. With one growl from her father, the girl started spilling the water all around the carpet. Unable to witness such a frolic incident, Allara asked the girl to leave and took the jug in her hand.
"When they come, they arrive with the commitment of doing sincere work. And as the days wean by, their words are as good as winds." Her father complained, and she ignored him as usual, knowing his grumpy mood. Warming the water a little by the hearth, she added few minced pepper that she had always kept near the table.
"Do you remember Hother Umber?" He questioned.
She wasn't playing hostess to any lords who arrived for feasts during her trail of punishment, but when she tried hard, she could almost remember the old man.
"That white-haired old man called Whoresbane, last brother to age-old Lord Umber?"
Her father's mouth was agape, but he nodded his head. "Old, yet strong. Aye, he has few white hairs. The Umbers have giant blood in them, Allara. And this tale about a whore is all a lie."
If she was Lyanna, who cared so less about court, she wouldn't have bothered or cared to take notice of her father's answer. Alas, she exactly knew where he was going with this. She offered the water to his hand and walked far away from him. Whatever love remained for her father was turning sour each minute she stood in his solar.
"Have you already given your word to them, father? Or is my wedding going to take place on the morrow?"
Rickard Stark sighed, staring at the warm water in his hand. "Will there never be peace for me with you? Is it always going to be a battle?" After drinking till the last drop, he threw the empty copper cup to the wall.
"Does Brandon know?"
"No... He will rage and fume like you are made to be wed for a man worth as King. Such a stupid boy. I brought up a son with no control of his emotions and a daughter who never listens to any word I say."
"You bought up two daughters, father... and two sons. Need I remind you about the son, you gave up to Vale?"
There was no answer or anger from him as she expected. Quite closely, if she observed there was a thin layer or resentment too. But he would always get what he wanted. And if he bid her to marry an old man, older than her own father, who was the third brother with no castle of his own, who lied with whores, then she would follow it, how much ever it would hurt.
When she was about to leave him, he called for her. "Your brother will not like this, I know. I have no choice other than Hother Umber."
"Father, you are the one fixing this marriage. How come you can say, you have no choice on this matter?" She was already getting vexed of prolonging this conversation.
"You are growing old and it is the right time for you to marry. Aye... Many lords asked for your hand. The Karstarks were eager to know if there was a chance. But it all came with a price, Allara."
"Dowry...?"
When her father nodded, she wanted to open all the pages of accounts to show how much jewels and coins they own in their saving to satisfy the needs required for a marriage. A year before she left from his service, she tactically increased the tax on spices by the port, to fill the coffers in Winterfell. Even her mother's jewels were worth to give five daughters' hand for a simple marriage to northern lords. Could he be so cruel as not to spend a few coins for an able man?
"I can't risk spending coins for a matter as this. Greater storms will knock our door and we have to be prepared for it." Lord Rickard said. "I want you to speak with your brother and convince him that you are happy with this match."
"He won't believe." She abruptly stopped his folly of coercing her to convince her own brother. "And if coins will be your only problem, let me marry some hedge knight, instead of an old man of your age."
"And where will I search this hedge knight of yours? I don't have time." He snapped.
In that moment, with a desperate attempt to somehow escape this hell he was planning, she yelled. "I will search by myself."
For a fine time, he didn't answer. "You will make no promises of dowry or lands or titles to any man you find. And don't bring a common-born in the name of love. Within six moons, if you are able to find a hedge knight and convince him to take you, you can leave the castle. Else, my decision will remain final."
This was it. To send her away from the castle was his only goal. If Brandon was not there, he wouldn't have even bothered to speak with her about this plan. Every next second she stood by the solar, her heart shrunk. Promising herself to never enter that place again or see his face, she searched for solace in the crypts.
"Everyone is ready for the departure, my Prince. Princess Elia has been asking for you." Jon said entering Rhaegar's solar. "Shall we proceed?"
"Ah-" Rhaegar didn't know how to convey his loyal friend about the situation. "Where is Arthur?"
Jon flinched. "Last I saw him, he was accompanying his sister. Will he be coming with us to Dragonstone?"
"Of course... We have a great deal of work to do. I need everyone I trust by my side. Also, Jon... How confident are you about storm lords?"
"Not much... But with Robert on your side, you have nothing to worry, Prince. After all, he is your cousin, right?" Jon pondered.
"Distant... but, yes..." Rhaegar was distracted by Richard's entry. And forgetting what he was about to instruct Jon to do, he anticipated for news from his squire. Instead of answering, Richard waved the scroll in his hand, and Rhaegar was unable to hide the excitement to read Allara's response. He pried the scroll from Richard's hand, and read word by word of her stunning mind, anxiously and attentively.
The moment he read about Allara's dragon dream, his heart tried to jump out of his chest and burst into thousand pieces. He was persuading himself for years, that the dreams didn't mean anything other than his own fantasy, even when he found the wolf's head. Now, with truth laid before him, he was unsure if he should be like Daenys the Dreamer and seek for wisdom.
Rhaegar observed the dead silence of his chamber and figured both Jon and Richard gape at finding his excitement quite odd. Of course, he was never the one to be excited about anything. "Did the message bore misgivings, your grace? I found it have no seal. Do we need to worry about a threat of somekind?" Richard bombarded with questions, and Rhaegar dismissed his squire's words with the shake of his head.
He proceeded to go through Allara's astonishing work of the account of First men. Even before seeing her, he could feel how passionate she was about learning. Knowledge was something he valued above all valour.
"My Prince..."
Rhaegar saw a golden-haired girl enter his chamber, alone. Immersing into the contents of the letter and desperation for truth made him forget to recognize the girl before him.
"Who are you?" He asked while his head dwelled in unanswered questions from Allara's missive and a plan spawning parallelly to write a response to her before reaching Dragonstone.
"Cersei, your grace... Have you forgotten, already? We met during Prince Viserys's name day." The girl smiled, and he vaguely nodded at her, still flipping through the paper in hand, which should be handled more discreetly than to present it before the eyes of strangers.
"May I know, how I can offer to help you?"
"For days, I had been planning to meet you, my Prince. No one allows me. As you are leaving today, will you give me the honor of privacy, in which we can speak?" Cersei asked, making him momentarily deviate from the letter and come to the world where he was living in.
Richard snorted with a cackle. Jon became absolutely furious at such a brainless request. Rhaegar's eyes were moving on to the parchment at hand and he found the last page in another handwriting, which was not Allara's.
"It is not wise for a young lady as you to ask for an audience with me in private. Will you be able to tell whatever you have to say, in front my squire and lord Jon?"
Cersei's brows wrinkled, and she spied both of his men with a distaste. But when she turned to him, the girl's frown was replaced with a smile.
"Will you be so cruel to even reject a beautiful maid's request, even for once, my Prince?" Her fingers moved to hold his hand, and he was sure Jon's disgruntled growls could make any woman feel shamed. But Cersei Lannister was not any woman, and she didn't bother about what was happening around focusing on only getting closer to him. Living a remarkably long life at the castle made him aware of how women try seducing to get what they wanted from him, and by the way of the girl's appearance, Rhaegar confirmed it. But a man who would rule the Kingdom one day should not have such flummery, and he detached himself from her.
Rhaegar wanted to get rid of her so he could read what the Maester had written in the missive. It should be something of importance for the man to convey along with Allara's scroll.
"Walk with me to the stables, my lady." He asked and requested both Jon and Richard to maintain distance while coming.
With one hand holding Allara's missive and another arm holding the Lannister woman, Rhaegar strode to the stable in a steady pace. What he failed to observe at that moment was the court taking a note of this ceremony or one specific spider spying to declare it to his mad father of this news.
"My father has presented me rubies and gems made tiara similar to Queen Rhaenyra's. Wouldn't it look radiant on me, your grace?"
Was it naivety on the girl's part to ask such treasonous questions to him or arrogance at getting what she desired? He realized he didn't care.
"I was expecting you have something important to discuss with me, my lady." He paused with a tight line of grimness setting on his face.
"Yes, your grace." She smiled cautiously and tried to hold both his hands, especially the one with Allara's letter, prying to read the contents of it, and he had to pull back his hand, walking away from her with a tight line on his lips. "I have always dreamed of visiting Dragonstone, my Prince. To see the marvelous structure and the beautiful gargoyles. Shall I join your trip?"
"They are called gargoyles because there is no beauty in it, my lady. However, if you want to visit Dragonstone, you have to ask my wife, Princess Elia Martell. She decides on the matter of who should be invited to be her companions in the castle."
"But... If you order her, she has no choice other than to accept me."
Rhaegar was curious to know why the girl was interested to come till Dragonstone. But the priorities mattered now. "You can always approach her. I don't find any reason why she should refuse you. Good luck, my lady."
With that, he commanded a guard to escort her back to the Keep, meanwhile reading the last message of the letter as he stood by his war horse. Sliding the letter in his pocket, with a lot of confusions swimming in his head, Rhaegar rode with Jon and Richard to the port, where a ship was waiting for them to take back to Dragonstone.
Allara's father was striking an alliance with an old northern man, whose name didn't even matter to him. He was beyond bothered to learn about it. Would it be wiser to leave this folly of exchanging letters and focus only on deposing his father? What benefit would he be able to reap even if he worried over such information? The girl had seen sixteen name days, a perfect age to get married.
"Kepa"
His little girl threw her arm around his neck and he instantly scooped her from Arthur's hand.
"Issa byka zaldrīzes... Are you troubling your uncle?"
"No... No... No..." Rhaenys waved her hand dismissively with a pout on her mouth. Rhaegar peppered kisses on his little dragon's forehead, who had a massive sunflower in her hand. She was absolutely adorable, and he loved her with all his heart, but a part of him wished there was a son of his own blood to carry on his line to the throne. With whatever time he spent with Viserys, he felt another blow to his head, realizing how his father had influenced on his little brother's life, drastically.
"We should start now, your grace. The captain says the wind is on our side." Arthur urged, but with thousands of questions gnawing his head, Rhaegar dismissed the proposal and walked towards Elia and Ashara.
"Elia, I have a request to make with you." When Elia listened curiously, his shame should be evident in his face that his dear wife took his hand and moved to a far distant from the eyes of men. Things were spoken, and Rhaegar said some blatant lie. If Elia really discovered the truth behind his mask, she didn't care to express it to him.
And within the next hour, he stood on the shore along with Richard dis-heartedly hearing to Rhaenys cry from the ship that was moving to Dragonstone. Sending Arthur with Elia, Ashara and Rhaenys for safety and instructing Jon to leave with Ser Oswell to help him arrange the tourney with the coins required to fund it, which he ordered it to be done within six moon turn, Rhaegar stared at his squire.
"Are we going to Summerhall, my Prince?" Richard asked excitedly. "I will protect you with my sword."
Rhaegar gave a wry chuckle, listening to his squire's intrepid words. "I will need your protection, but not to Summerhall. Do me a favour and buy heavy wollen cloaks, tunics and breeches for both of us, from the local shops without any sigils or symbols on it. Come back by evening, collecting my armour from the Keep, the one with no sigils... and bring a black dye for my hair."
"We are going in disguise... To where?"
"North..."
And when Richard returned with all the requirements, Rhaegar coloured his hair black and offered the Captain ten silver stags for them to set his travel to Eastwatch by Sea. It was time to meet with his grand uncle to seek help on disturbing matters he had been saying beyond the wall. But it would be a lie, if he said he was going only to see Maester Aemon. This was all for her... Allara Stark.
I promised you I would climb mountains to seek truth... and I am coming for you, my wolf.
Allara emptied the last urn that she once used to save coins as a child and found merely ten silver stags. What started as an effort to buy a jewel now seemed as her only option to pay her way out of the castle. But with nineteen gold dragons and seventy silver stags, she didn't know how to find a chivalrous man to accept her as his wife.
"Here, take this thirty silver stags from me." Lya shoved coins in Allara's hand, but those were not enough.
"What should I do, Lya? I feel lost and incredibly stupid. How will I find a hedge knight in Winterfell?" Allara screamed, clinging to her hair.
"Don't... You should run away and explore the lands on your own." Lya answered cooly.
"Men are dangerous than animals, sister. I won't survive a day in the wild." Allara convinced, more to herself than to his sister. The thought of running didn't get missed in her head. Instead of giving her body to a man, who she should seduce to make him accept her hand, she wanted to run away, where no one would bother her. But that was stupid considering men would rape and kill her the chance they find her.
"Tell to Brandon... He has so many southern friends. Elbert Arryn and that Glover boy..."
"No." She said strongly uninterested in involving her brother in this mess. "I have a choice in my hand to choose a man of my liking. It is an opportunity."
"Whatever, sister... Ned is arriving today. He promised me to bring fresh flowers from the mountains on the way."
Allara stared at her dreamy sister, who still hadn't got even her moon blood. Even with merely two years different they both shared problems wide apart, and although Allara yearned to share joy, her mood turned too sour to enjoy any sweet things. She left her chamber unable to convince that there was a possibility for her to find a noble, gentle and kind man on her own. The only reason they would want to marry her would be for her beauty and her name. With name came some power, wealth and lands.
She wanted to give up on this mission on finding a good man. Her last experience with Jaime didn't comfort her either. If she ever happened to meet that brash brute again, she would make sure to shave his golden hair and give clout to his ears a thousand times till her anger would wane by.
Sniffing pathetically, she wandered to the crypts to sit in silence, reminiscing of her pathetic life. She swore the ghosts of the Kings were laughing at her. When dripping sound of water droplets emerged from the tunnel further inside, Allara followed the sound aimlessly, dragging her fingers against the wall. At one point, when her fingers scratched the stone, a hollow noise erupted, and conscientiously she knocked the stone at that area.
Perilous to hear that distinct hollow sound, she pushed the stone slightly, and the stone moved, giving way to another secret path, that extended longer with twists and turns, with broken stone stairs that led her from one path to another. When she ended up standing by the exit, she was blocked by stone wall. Doubtfully, when she pushed, it moved too.
What she didn't expect to find was knee level hot water fill in that grimly dark cavern. Immediately, pulling back the stone door, she walked carefully on that water, but sooner realized that this was an extension of Godswood hot water lake, which was touching a cavern that was connecting directly to the crypts. Some old escape tunnel.
With the next step, she hit her foot on some heavy stone beneath and fell face first on to the water. Ridiculously drenched and immersed with water, her little adventure came to an end. When she rose, she laughed maniacally. With no clue to move forward in life, stuck in an unwanted place, she wished to hire an army of sellsword and march against Winterfell, to prove her father that she was capable of more than just a burden to be rid off for the highest bidder.
Tears overwhelming her voice, she carefully took the next step to emerge out to the hot water lake, but when she sunlight shimmered on dark, clean water, golden blotches bright as sun emerging beneath the lake, caught her eyes.
Unsurely, she moved towards the source of that light, and dropped down to lift the stone that actually made her fall. It was not one stone, but there were five with scales sharp and glimmering, each with different shades.
They were dragon eggs...
Her knees fell on the floor, unable to believe if she was in real life or living in yet another dream.
Time went on and the sun passed to the sky above. With wet clothes, wet hair, when she reached the Great Keep, someone from behind knocked her down and she rolled in mud and dirt, before seeing Lya climb on her stomach.
"Why should it be me? I hate you... You always take everything from me. This should have happened to you. You wanted to play this pretty wife, not me. I am taking all your coins, bitch..." Lya screamed, holding Allara's gown.
"Lya... What are you speaking about?" Allara was outraged by her sister's words, but more than that, she was unclear of what was happening.
"Father has ordered me to marry Robert. Now I have marry that whoremonger while you gallivant the kingdom with a chivalrous knight of your choice. You deserve him. Not me... I deserve a knight... not you." She shouted with tears, sweeping her freckled cheeks.
If it was another time, before her exploration to the cavern, she would have been distraught to learn the news that Lyanna would be marrying Robert Baratheon of Storm's End. Now, she could only think about her mystery comrade.
How the hell did he suspect the return of dragons? Does my dream mean more than what I think of?
Eddard separated Lyanna from her body and yelled at her for being unmannerly and rude. Allara thanked her brother and went to her chamber to clean up, all the while unable to spill this truth to anyone. She was hell as sure to not tell this to her father. Brandon would act unwisely. Ned would obviously choose to tell it to their sire.
She wanted to speak with her mystery comrade without giving away the information to the Maester too. How soon was she able to trust a random man over her own brothers and sister? Her secret comrade really had his charm even through words.
The thoughts were too much consuming that she forgot to worry about her impending marriage task. But with five dragon eggs, she might earn a fortune to even live on her own, if she crossed sea. Any noble man would marry her and protect her with love.
A smile after so long... she didn't know how long was pasted on her face that never left.
MillieBelle: Thank you. Elia and Rhaegar in cannon are my greatest interest. And she will be much more witty, cunning and strong will power, being Dornish and all. She will be more than glad to make Rhaegar find Aly.
luckyhgirl: Soon... I promise, sooner. Probably next chapter. I invested too much chapters in preface that I am dreading to write them both. Hopefully, you will like it. Yeah, I lost some motivation. In the meantime, eventhough I have the outline of this story, so I went and did a pet project writing another story. Thanks for reminding me to write for myself. Its so much important. I revisited my priorities after your comment. Keep reading my story.
Hercules: Yeah, Cersei is a spoiled brat and sometimes stupid too, to reveal her father's secret plan, plainly. But Elia is smart, that's why she chose to find her way out. Thanks for liking the messages exchanged. It was so teenaged fantasy having a pal friend. Actually, Allara is kept out of everything, and the girl likes beautiful things. That's why she wants to buy the ornament. Hope you like this chapter. Waiting to hear from you.
Heisenberg: I was worried no one would notice it. Yes, she is approaching alcoholism. But your name... lol.. and reference to breaking bad... It made my day.
CharNinja: Thank you. I was worried thinking the story was growing to be a bore, considering I kept two mains far apart from nine chapters. Your words give me motivation.
firstofhername: Thank you... Thanks... Thanks... really
Janae.K: Oh... How I have been missing your perspective of my story. Thanks for taking your time to review. Writing Elia weak or hateful would be bad for the great Dornish, considering this story will cover Rhaegar and OC. And yeah, Elia is a much more layered than just being weak and cruel. Allara meeting Jaime will not be pleasant. But, before all that, a dragon is really chasing the wolf now. And how will the lions respond to it. It will be ugly.
