Im obsessed with alternative canon within ASOIAF. I hope with this account I am able to explore the endless possibilities that could have been in this world I've grown to love. This is one of those stories, of what would have been if The Last Dragon, wasn't the last . What if Rhaegar was who Jon Connington and Barristan Selmy believed him to be? If the Silver Prince had a shred of political cunning about him, what could have been during the years preluding the Second War for the Dawn. I Hope to make this a decent sized fic and I hope you enjoy:] Feel free to comment -Naq69
The Salmon Knight:
In the halls of Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, conflict between the Silver Prince and Mad King was commonplace. It had caused two factions to be formed not so dissimilar to the fabled Greens and Blacks of Alicent and Rhaenyra. This Dance of Dragons however, was well on its way to leading the realm into equal ruin as its predecessor. Headed by Lucerys Velaryon, Master of Ships, the men of unquestionable loyalty to Aerys Targaryen were dangerous, doing any and everything to gain the kings favor as any favor gained from the king was security, it was the only currency in this godforsaken court that acquired it. Former Hand of the King Owen Merryweather was living proof of that, or dead proof if the tarred head atop Maegors' holdfast was anything to go off of. And then there was Rhaegar.
The Last Dragon men had taken to calling him, far from the ears of Aerys and his devotees of course. The prince was everything stories and legends of old told the people of the capital of what a monarch should be. He was of the blood of Old Valyria , having a beauty not even dreamed of with hair like molten silver and eyes so deep a purple they seemed black. He was a renown warrior and a poet. His countless tourney victories silenced all who would question the Princes intricacies and melancholic manner. He deemed himself a scholar and a singer and such qualities attracted men and women alike to follow him to the very depths of the seven hells if he wanted. Myles could attest to it; he would burn the world and everyone in it if his Prince wished to be king of the ashes. Such was the loyalty the Last Dragon inspired.
The animosity between the two factions was well known and clear as day to see. If the Lord of Driftmark preferred Arbor Gold, The Prince would prefer Dornish Reds, if the Master of Ships ate roasted boar, the prince would dine on venison and so on the trivial fighting of the factions went until they expanded to the politics of the realm. Like some sick game the King liked to play by himself, he encouraged the infighting. His paranoia convincing him that if his supporters and his heir were at each others throats, they couldn't be at his. Long debates and shouting matches occurred between the two factions, increasing in frequency since the moons seeing Prince Rhaegar wed and taking a more active role in the politics of the recently, The Prince advised His Grace the King and his Small Council , the benefits of a betrothal between him and the She-Wolf of Winterfell, Lyanna Stark. This came at the head of Rickard Stark allying with Hoster Tully with the betrothal of his heir to the eldest daughter of Riverrun. At the time, talk was of a possible alliance with the young and boisterous Lord of the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon. The desire to curve or possible tap into the power block of this growing alliance roused the suspicion of Aerys. The council succeeded in convincing His Grace to not apprehend and take into custody Lord Rickard, though the solution was not so easily agreed upon. Ultimately Lucerys Velaryon , preaching the realms support and undying loyalty to his grace King Aerys, saw to it the Crown Prince married to Elia Martell.
Myles has seen it for many years since squiring for the Crown Prince of Westeros, the divide between those who followed the king out of sheer terror, and those that followed his prince out of hope.The birth of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen had seen the Crown Prince and Princess celebrated and a peace of sorts was achieved between the factions as a new member of the dwindling royal family was a unanimously GOOD thing, unseen in the keep for many decades. But todays session of court was different. You could feel the change in the air like you would the mist from the harbor of his home.
Brandon Stark was at the gates, and he was enraged. Even here amidst the skulls House Targaryen once wielded to forge their kingdom, you could hear the Wild-Wolf baying for vengeance. The Tourney of Harrenhal had seen the Silver Prince defeat Ser Barristan the Bold on the seventh tilt of the final match, unseating the Knight of the Kingsguard. Soon after Rhaegar crowned his wife Elia Martell of Dorne to the pleasure of all. All was well until the final feast in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, under the roof of Lord Walter Whent, the seeds of rebellion were sowed. History would see this as the beginning of the end for the Aerys the Mad. The Knight of the Laughing Tree had unnerved the King since the day his heir had returned to him naught but a shield. Having had Lord Varys look into the matter, the spider identified the Knights identity as the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark through means unknown to all. The Kings madness had seen him abduct the daughter of the Warden of the North in the dead of night. Knights of the Kingsguard broke into the chambers of Lady Lyanna and made for Kings Landing soon after, moving behind the secretly departed King Aerys as he prepared to hold a court to see Lady Lyanna face the kings "justice". Brandon Stark and a retinue of 50 men were on his heels before daybreak.. Lord Rickard was doubtless raising an army of northmen ready to bear down past the causeway, but that was a country away. Brandon was at the Gate of the Gods, waiting on the permission of the king who stole his sister, for an audience, that would doubtless never come.
And now, Winter had come for King Aerys.
"I want his fucking head! Do you hear me! Let the wolves howl and bay at what their king has done, traitors all of them. The dragon doesn't concern itself with the demands of fucking barbarians, do you hear me Rhaegar!?"
"I would preach caution and reconsideration my King. We must always consider the consequ…"
"Enough you weak willed boy! Have the whisperings of your dornish whore strayed you so far from the ways of our ancestors? Have the tales of the Conqueror and his son, escaped your memory, or are you too much your mother's son to claim such a lineage? Ours is fire and blood, boy. Let all who think to question the dragon feel its fire! Ser Alliser Thorne, my loyal knight, bring me the bastards head!"
"Take another step out of this hallowed hall, and it will be the last step that you take, Ser Alliser." The Crown Prince addressed the Knight. The wistful tone that would have dubbed him Rhaegar the Bard, was silenced, and instead replaced with the iron tones of a king.
" I believe the giving of orders falls to his Grace King Aerys, my Prince, " The dour captain uttered " We all serve at his command. You'd do well to remember it so, my Prince." And with that, the Thorne Knight made to leave the hall of the Conqueror.
As Thorne brushed past the Crown Prince, he looked at Myles and Ser Richard Lonmouth and nodded. And with that, the die was cast. The Salmon Knight stepped in front the Lord Commander of the City Watch along with Ser Richard and made a choice never before made, to defy the will of Aerys. He did not even think about the implications of such a move, he couldn't seem to care. His Prince had given him an order.
Id follow you to hell Rhaegar, there isn't naught i wouldn't do for you, he remembered thinking.
Before anybody had a clue as to what was about to transpire, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Silver Prince, quicker than the shivers in the dead of winter crept behind Ser Alliser Thorne and slit the man's throat to the screams and cries of all the lickspittles and sycophants of the court. Immediately following this, the Knights of the Kingsguard unsheathed their blades. The most prestigious and deadly knights in the realm standing with the king they swore their lives. Except for Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning stood besides the Prince as always, making no move to apprehend or stop him. Ser Arthur unsheathed Dawn, and the occupants of the court knew on this day, they would see Dawns pale complexion bathed in a horizon of blood. Household guards and men at arms flooded the corridors after the death of the commander at the behest of a Lord Lucerys Velaryon, naturally .
"I knew it was traitors blood that coursed through your veins! No son of mine are you, you are not blood of the dragon you bastard!. I knew your mother was unfaithful the day you came out frail and WEAK like the flameless worm you are! You dare challenge your king, you ungrateful boy?! THEN YOU TOO SHALL BURN RHAEGAR! Seize him!"
Prince Rhaegar Taragaryen, the youth who sang to orphans along Pisswater Bend, who snuck bread to the starving Queen Rhaella when Aerys denied herl food, Prince Rhaegar the dreamer and reader, who sang his daughter to sleep every night in High Valyrian, Prince Rhaegar, the Silver Prince, died that day. The man who would take his place emerged the moment Alliser Thorne fell to the floor of the Red Keep.
In the year 286 AC , The Last Dragon had finally emerged.
"You heard his Grace, Seize the Crown Prince!" Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull and Lord Commander of Aerys Targaryens Kingsguard, boomed.
And so, it began.
Myles made to step over the body of Alliser Thorne and protect his Prince, his sights locked on the bulking figure of Ser Jonothor Darry. Experience in the yard had taught Myles that today would be his day to meet the gods. The Demon of Darry outmatched him, and they both knew it.
A glorious way to go, no? Dying whilst protecting the Prince i owe everything to. Better than hanging from the rafters waiting to burn.
But just before Ser Myles Mooten would see himself against Ser Jonothor, the door to the throne room was slammed open. Everyone stopped.
"I believe you have taken something of mine, Your Grace. I've come to take it back." spoke the voice of Brandon Stark, The Wild Wolf and heir to Winterfell .
Winter had finally came.
