Happy New Year!
Rhaegar III
Rhaegar had not thought that he could get any fonder of her but he did.
She, even apart from the dragons and the eggs, filled him with such hope that his heart was brimming full.
He could sit and talk to her for hours, of politics and morality, of battle moves and strategy, of music and poetry.
She did not know much of the last one, having brought up in war but as someone who was starved of fine things, she did not take them for granted and had an almost reverent attitude towards them.
She knew of things it featured though, melancholy and joy, friendship and love, family and duty. She was wiser than anyone he could claim to know. She was quiet and calm, almost withdrawn like him, lost in thoughts. But she had a fierceness that would put dragons to shame and a blunt tongue that was refreshing. People were too careful around him.
He learned more of her life in the coming week before they sailed to King's landing.
She had a difficult childhood with guardians who did not really like her. She entered the magical space when she was 11, had two death defying years. Then, a mysterious journal gave power back to the dark lord that wanted to kill her. Her life changed overnight. The next 4 years were spent in guerilla warfare, learning of her noble ancestry, battling for life alongside friends and her godfather who was imprisoned wrongly and on a run. Mostly all of them were dead.
She was doing her duty in her last few months, nothing else. All will to live and people she would have wanted to live with were long gone from the world. Valor had kept her spirits up, not allowing her to wallow a lot.
Seven moons past her 16th nameday, she would kill him finally. And one moon past at 17, she would be battling his followers when she would be thrust into his world.
"Fate likes to play with me."
She says that a lot, with a lot of resignation and a lot of hysterical and sardonic chuckles.
Her eyes are haunted. The kind of destruction that comes to him in dreams, she has lived it. And yet, she is kind and generous. He is almost unable to believe her personhood.
The servants are in awe. She thanks them each time, makes her own bed, and even attempts to help in the kitchens.
Most of all, she keeps him grounded. She does not judge him for his fathers' mistakes, she pardons his cowardice, and she understands and offers support.
She manages to convince the maester to lend her his healing books and even though, the maester sends his disapproval and tries to talk her out of it and even insults her, she does not budge, gets her way and appeases the maester's ego by telling him that she wishes to learn the true healing that only citadel knows.
A lie if he saw one. He had tried what she called a pepper-up and it was the most wonderful thing ever. She is a better healer.
They spend hours in Aegon's garden as he tells her that bit of history. If she bends down to clean a few plants or moves them around to give them better light, putting her delicate hands into the soil, it is just one of her charms.
She loses tempers easily though. When one guard leers too much, when another tries to handle a servant girl, she beats him in reprimanding them, more like in yelling their heads off.
She looks beautiful in her noble dresses. They are finer than the things even his mother owns and are of a lighter material. She carries them just fine, regardless of the misconception that warriors could not be feminine. In fact, she finds great pride in them somewhat and tells him that after being denied the niceties of life, she has some appreciation for them.
She prefers her hair loose and wild, but has daily braided them at some maid's insistence. Decent ladies don't display them openly is what she has been told. That is for their lord husbands. It is not a rule per say but it is an orthodox understanding.
He tells her of a few styles he has seen on his mother. There is a way around the braids. A part of her hair needs to be braided, even if it is just a few curls, but not the whole. He remembers similar tricks used by Joanna Lannister and even Cersei and other ladies of court.
She looks at him with a strange light as if she has deciphered something new about him. It is a look that seems to read into his soul.
They stare into each other's eyes for the longest, unblinking, undeterred, shamelessly until Whent comes and interrupts yet again, telling him that things are ready for departure and they can leave at sunset.
He has never wanted to hit anybody so bad.
She asks his leave to pluck a few flowers from the garden before they board the ship. He thinks it is quaint that she defies him and argues everywhere but asks permission to pluck flowers, but he indulges her and gives it, not really up for teasing those hopeful eyes.
King's landing is farther away. They cross Duskendale and he would tell her about the 6 months that allowed madness to take over Aerys.
Only take over because it had existed.
That brings them to the subject of Kingsguard and how they would react to a coup even one approved through the Great Council.
"We are following due procedure but it is unconventional. There is no dispute that his claim triumphs mine but," Rhaegar says
"A King is a protector. Does he protect?" She asks him.
"Only himself, I am afraid."
"Then, who are they protecting? A Tyrant. He is no king, he is just madness and honorable men do not serve madness, they combat it."
"It is easier to say it."
"I know." Her voice holds such empathy that they don't touch on the issue further.
She does not get seasick. He wonders about it until she tells him of flying broomsticks and the lack of a stable ground in air as she did acrobatics.
Magic of her world was truly wonderful.
They arrive in King's landing in early morning. The sun has an overcast of clouds.
Three Kingsguards and more gold cloaks are there for the welcome and escort.
He is so happy to see Arthur. Even Selmy and Lewis Martell make him smile.
He shakes their hands before they can bow to him.
And as Lewis is about to question him on something, he realizes that Azalea is long due. She had been right behind him and so he turns.
She is covered in a black dark cloak that covers her complete form as she stands on the bridge that joins the ship to the harbor and watching the city, her back to them.
"Lady Azalea," He calls out.
She almost glides towards them. She gives a curtsy to the Kingsguard, what is called a Targaryen curtsy though is really Valyrian. It is a shallow one which tells them that though they have her respect, she is above them and she knows that.
He had been worried about her ability to work a noble crowd for naught. And of course, she might not know it but her very personhood exudes Valyrian heritage.
They are startled by her eyes, he can tell. But he does not offer too many explanations. He had sent a message across about a guest of great interest and requested a wheelhouse, the identity too delicate to be sent over raven.
Ser Barristan Selmy clears his throat and points at the wooden contraption, "The wheelhouse is ready for you, my lady."
She gives him a look and says, "Must I?"
"You would prefer riding," Rhaegar murmurs back, understanding what she is getting at in a moment.
"It will not be safe, my lady." Arthur quickly says, getting over what he identifies as Valyrian features.
She is about to argue, Rhaegar can tell but their eyes meet, something passes between them and she merely nods once and follows Martell.
But then she abruptly turns and tells him, "You owe me one." And before hearing his agreement, walks away from him.
No one has ever ordered him like that, expecting full compliance so assertively, not even his father. And nobody has certainly walked away from him like that.
Dayne almost laughs, Selmy's eyes widen and Martell is very amused. Rhaegar only watches her retreating form with bewildered and yet indulgent eyes.
He is worried about her. He is also very curious of what plans she is putting into action.
He is unsurprised by the questions Arthur asks him when they ride together.
"Valyrian blood," It is a question.
"Indeed, not everyone had light hair and Indigo eyes in that place." Rhaegar confirms.
"You seemed very well-acquainted." It is a euphemism for their closeness and a subtle attempt to ask of his feelings for her. Arthur is a dear friend and knows what the presence of a Valyrian woman in court means for Rhaegar.
"She is a very unique woman," That is all he gives away in the middle of the city and amongst all the guards.
Arthur understands and does not touch the subject again.
Rhaegar is bowed in front of his father.
"Where is that guest of yours, Rhaegar?' His father demands.
"She would not enter without your highness's leave to enter the court room," Rhaegar says. Flattery is essential; he had learned that very early and Azalea had advised unequivocally.
He can hear the murmuring at the gender of his guest. They are wondering if Rhaegar has taken up with a woman.
"Escort and announce her, Hightower." His father barks and gestures for him to come at his side.
A minute later, Hightower announces, "Prince Rhaegar's guest."
Rhaegar internally smirks. Of course, she would not give away her identity.
She enters in her cloak but she opens her arms and it falls back and the hall gasps. Rhaegar's eyes widen and he knows that Arthur is taken aback too.
Valyrian blood is always beautiful but this, this was visionary.
She wore a dress of lightest blue with blue flowers finely embroidered all over the skirt and the laces are finer than the best ones his mother gets from Myr. She wears her hair down. Her ringlets are mostly loose with smaller braids that have the blue flowers from Aegon's garden entwined in most elaborate patterns. Her sleeves cover her arms and yet her neck is deep, the shoulders a little away and a sapphire choker with at least two dozen button sized diamonds and sapphires highlight her neck and ivory skin. He doubts even Lannisters or Hightowers own something that ostentatious.
Her eyes serve as a stark contrast and so do her hair, but she is a vision. Her walk is poised and graced and oozes pride and confidence. She is in her prime. Her face gives away her age, a little older than 16 probably.
People will be singing of this entrance in years to come.
She glides and gives a deeper courtesy of deference, "Lady Azalea Sage Lightbringer of the House of Gwenyth and Peverall, your highness."
Lightbringer, Lightbringer. Is it a title she earned in her world?
"A pureblooded Valyrian," His father whispers in wonder but it is heard all across the room.
"So, I am told." She says and feeds him the same story that they had fine-tuned in Dragonstone.
"House Targaryen deserves reciprocation. You will wed my son," Aerys says haughtily.
Rhaegar thinks that the usual dour face of Tywin Lannister goes even sour.
"The crown prince saved my life and to reciprocate, I will save his or the debt would pass to my lineage. That is a true exchange, not matrimony." She murmurs back easily, unafraid.
Arthur is trying to catch his eye, to dissuade the maiden from this folly. Rhaegar ignores it. His entire being is protesting to it but he has given her the word of not interfering. . In that small time, Arthur has developed a liking to her, which is strange.
"You reject the honor," Aerys has mania in his eyes. Rhaegar goes more rigid.
"Not in the least, sire. However, Gwenyth is a matrilineal line, one where women choose their spouse after observing Gis hen ābrar se ways hen drōmon. The Crown prince and I have only met. I request the generosity of your highness to grant me time and the hospitality of the royal family to see if we would be suited to one another."
"You are Valyrians," It is Lord Velayron who points that out.
"I have not been with kin in a long time and I have no memory of certain things, my lord. A marriage would be ill suited to the crown and to me. The King knows the customs of Valyria better than I do, and he knows the importance of our ways and what Valyrian nobility and houses hold in pride." She calmly replies back.
Ours. She had claimed them allied to each other and alienated any other opinion on the match. It was a dangerous and high-risk move, considering his father's moodiness.
"It is high time that a proper Valyrian bride graces the court, one who knows the value of our traditions and strength and wisdom. Do you know the ritual she speaks of? Any of you," Aerys sneers, "Of course, you do not, commoners of lesser blood."
Then, he told them rather pompously, "It is a ritual that lasts for the incubation of the dragon egg. A sacred time because it ensured greatness. Very well, Lady Azalea. You have your time. Rhaegar, you will do everything to make our guest comfortable." His father gave in.
The lords were in shock. Rhaegar was surprised too. He had known of the plan but he did not think that it would work so well. She had just bought them at least 4-6 moons.
Azalea just curtsied again and was escorted out towards the royal wing.
He met his mother and brother after the court was over even though he wanted to seek Azalea out to ensure her safety and comfort.
Her mother had already heard of the great beauty. She is more reserved in showing her enthusiasm about finding a Valyrian bride but the enthusiasm is probably greater than his father. And if anyone could reason with Aerys, then she was good enough to take care of her son and the realm. But while her mother talked of that, she also talked about his feelings for her, subtly of course.
He did not give away too much, but he could sense that his mother saw all of it in his face.
Her mother tells him ill tidings of how her father was whispering to Viserys. She does not say much about how her relations with father are.
She wishes to meet Azalea.
"Azalea is likely tired, mother and I do not wish to subject her to more of Father just yet. We spent the time on the ship detailing all about crownlands. We could break our fast together. Father never attends it regardless." Rhaegar simply says.
"You call her by her name?" She is surprised more at that than the bit about crownlands.
"We spent a lot of time together and we gave each other the leave to use our given names."
"So, she calls you Rhaegar." Her mother questioned, a little joy flitting in her expression.
"She does. She refrained in front of Father though. She is smarter than that." Rhaegar agrees with reluctance, knowing where his mother would go.
"And she asked question of crownlands?" Her mother caught up.
"She has been curious about the realm and Targaryen history in general. She is quite scholarly. Since we realized she does not know anything of the present history, she took to books like…" Rhaegar accepted.
"And yet she asked your father time to see if you were suited to each other?" Rhaella was a bit confused.
"She is headstrong, mother. I am her confidante for now, but I do not think she was keen on…"
He manages to quell her curiosities enough without giving away the plotting that is underfoot.
Azalea keeps to herself, spends time with him or spends time in the library where they both often find themselves.
She has met Viserys who adores her. She looked a little awkward around him and admitted that she has not been around too many children besides saving their lives.
But she is kind and patient and unlike a lot of people, she listens to what Viserys has got to say rather seriously and whenever in doubt, she doesn't hesitate a bit to ask him or his mother.
If the breakfast had endeared her to his mother, this fixed her place in Rhaella's heart. She was honest about her inexperience. Most royals were very familiar with the trick of brides trying to portray themselves as good motherly figures. Cersei certainly was in that boat.
She speaks to Arthur about Starfall and she has more questions than giving him answers. But it does not get invasive, it does not get disrespectful. In fact, it is more equitable conversation that he has had with Arthur, which is strange considering their gender and status differences.
Daynes are old blood in Westeros, as old as Valyrians but they are a minor house now. And she would be the queen of westeros.
Well, if she agreed after she was done stalling. But in the eyes of others, she was.
She wins in word battles against Martell with ease.
And in fact, she manages to pacify his father's temper by implying continuously that Valyrians were superior. His Father took great comfort in the fact that someone agreed with him about it without him threatening them into the opinion.
The superiority did not reflect in her gestures with others at all, and he thinks that Dayne, Martell and Hightower have developed an appreciation of her deft ways.
The first week, the court needs his attention and he is not able to ask her about lightbringer.
He finally does one day, as they walk in garden with Viserys.
"They started calling me that because I was the de-facto leader of light and I defeated the dark lord the first time. I did not like it, never thought I deserved it but after the second war, when it ended, they lifted me up in their arms and chanted, chanted…For the longest, I hated it, but then someone wise told me that I could deny what I did for the longest or I could take the credit where it was due. It was certainly a better moniker than girl who lived or chosen one or the conqueror and dozen others."
He is satisfied by the answer but his curiosity burns him. He has heard of the term in relation to the prophecy before. He just cannot remember where or when.
He turns to the books, reading them late into the night. Arthur has stopped trying to make him see reason on this.
It is Azalea who interrupts it, coming after a long story session with his mother and Viserys, "It is past the hour of wolf. What has gotten you into such a twist?"
He merely sighs and does not reply but her gaze is quick and she spots what he is reading on, and she scoffs.
Now that makes him annoyed and before he can rebut her unspoken disdain, she cuts his thoughts off, "That prophecy might be the key to save the realm one day. But tell me, Rhaegar, what will you do with a promised prince if the realm bleeds, if winter comes and there is no food, if winter comes and your inaction has led to alienation in all noble houses and a divide in the realm. Your promised prince might kill the darkness, but who will save the lives of the smallfolk who will die of starvation or in war. Dreams are to be heeded because they bring omens but it is a folly to live in forever in dreams and forget to live, forget reality of our lives. The reality is that 7 kingdoms are divided and your obsession with the prophecy is not helping or solving the immediate issues. I solved one problem. The others will get solved as well but you cannot rely on one person to finish the war, even a war with the great other or mystical beings. You need armies, you need lords and you need the 7 kingdoms united with supplies, precautions and morale that every war needs. Prepare the realm; there can't possibly be anything that those pages offer you more."
There is a fire in her eyes and there is ice in her words. And he cannot deny the truth of her words…his brain whirrs. No one has ever spoken to him like that before. No one has offered solutions that are so practical about the great night and the war it will bring.
And then he looks at her and he realizes that she earned the title lightbringer because young as she was, she was a war general who won a massive victory. She was speaking from experience.
He swallows and nods very seriously. He thinks he hears Arthur's breathe hitch but ignores it in favor of watching Azalea.
Her eyes turn kinder, "Did you eat?"
"I had lunch," He informs her gently.
There is disapproval in her eyes and she offers her hand, "Come with me, we will go to kitchens."
"The staff will already be asleep. It is late." He shakes his head.
"We can rouse them!" Arthur says rather quickly, contributing to the conversation for the first time.
"There will be no need to rouse them." She murmurs, turns around and walks, with the full expectation of them following, which they do.
The kitchen is empty but it takes her moments to find the larder.
Arthur watches her warily, entering after speaking to the guards outside but Rhaegar just watches hypnotically.
The true shock they get is when she returns with basket of raw ingredients and not just cheese or bread and starts picking out utensils.
"Do you intend to cook, my lady?" It is Arthur who is the more daring out of them, "because you need not. We can rouse the…"
"I said we will not rouse them." She simply says and that is the end of matter. Arthur gives him a pointed look but while he does not really understand her motives, he does understand that arguing on this was a lost cause.
Her hands are as adept as a seasoned chef, and it startles Arthur more. Rhaegar himself is not so perturbed because he has come to expect surprises from her.
The smell that wafts the kitchen is indescribable.
When it looks like that she might wash the utensils she has used, Arthur is the one who steps in, dissuading her and succeeds. He also takes up the tray and urges them to walk to the balcony in Maegar's holdfast.
Rhaegar has lost his wits. He is not used to this. He is not used to people caring for him so. No one has cooked for him before.
Well, they have but that is because he is the prince. He knows Azalea does not care a whit about his title. She is simply cross because her friend did not eat and wants him fed.
He wants her. He does not care what he has to do to win her over or convince her to convert the farce into the real thing but he will.
She loads up a plate and hands it over to him, while she herself serves a small portion and then she calls out to Arthur who has decided to stand a little away as the guard.
"Come Ser Artur, I daresay it is not bad food, even if it is not much and it is certainly not poisoned." She teases.
Rhaegar meanwhile has dipped his bread in the chicken and is savoring the flavors that are exploding in the mouth. It is unlike anything he has ever tasted and yet it is simply so good.
Arthur comes reluctantly and gives him a pleading look to reason with the lady and Rhaegar replies with a raised brow.
Arthur finally concedes and sits. At his first morsel, his eyes widen and he murmurs, "This is really good, my lady."
"It is wonderful." Rhaegar agrees empathically.
She shrugs away the compliments after a little flush on her face and engages them in telling her about the last tourney they were in.
Rhaegar and Arthur spend their time gloating and eating. She makes the right hmming noises, laughs right alongside them and at them, goading them, and rolling her eyes.
She had made a lot of food but by the time, dawn starts to peek in, the only thing left is the little wine.
The food and conversation flowed so easily between them that Rhaegar thought he could get used to this, his best friend and the women he was in love with…
Had he truly fallen in love with her?
But they are finally rather sleepy and lethargic and decide to turn to their beds. It was a good thing that court would not start until afternoon today.
The opinions on her magic are rather divided. I am sticking with my version.
Another Reminder: lighter fic.
And if anyone hasn't realized: she lived in a dystopian setting and led the war.
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