A/N: Hi all, chapter as promised!

A Happy Birthday to GulfYankee23! Be sure to check out his story Wolves of War. Great read.

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 22: The Northern Bard

Tonight was the night - a night where he would finally clear his mind before his wedding. Lacing his boots, Rhaegar admired the scuffed leather and rawhide laces that so adorned them. More precious to him than all the fine footwear that lined his closets. Jenny had got them for him. The woods witch turned Princess had guided him through Maegor I's hidden passageways, allowing young Rhaegar a safe place to play his harp. And when he was older… other things.

Even without Ser Barristan this night, he would enjoy it.

"My Queen," Rhaegar heard Ser Arthur say from outside the door. Uh oh. "Forgive me, but Prince Rhaegar is asleep."

"It seems rather early for that," he heard his mother reply. "And why would he be sleeping alone when he has shared Princess Elia's bed since he has arrived." Not waiting for Arthur's answer, Rhaegar found his mother throw open the door before he could dash for the secret escape route.

"Mother…" he managed to stammer, eyes wide. "What are you…?"

Frayed leather boots, trousers splotched and moth eaten. If not for his lustrous silver hair, he would look like a common smallfolk laborer. The idea, I so suspect. "I should ask you the same question, my son." She couldn't help but smirk.

"Forgive me, your Grace," Arthur said from the doorway. "But I don't think you would have wished me to detain the Queen."

Based on how he trembled and shifted his eyes, Rhaella didn't blame either Princess for finding him utterly adorable. "Uh… well…"

Rhaella giggled. He was just as cute as he was when a babe. She walked over to wrap her arms around her eldest boy. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Rhaegar. Did you think that your mother wouldn't notice how often you would sneak out of the Red Keep?" At his embarrassed blush, she smiled. "What were you doing out there to begin with?"

Motioning for his mother to sit down, as he found a chair Rhaegar felt a bit unburdened. "Sometimes I needed some time… to be free of my duty even for a little while." It had been so enjoyable that he couldn't stop himself. "Plus…"

"You wanted to see your domain." At his nod, she leaned over to kiss his brow. "You take so after my father, it's uncanny." Her son was perfect, who would be a wise and just King. "But I didn't come to talk to you about this."

"What did you wish to speak of, mother?"

They were seated close together, Rhaella feeling an overwhelming love and affection for her perfect son. The person that made dealing with Aerys worth it, a worthy burden to bear. "Ever since Lyanna came… I've seen you happy, Rhaegar. Happier than you've been for a long time."

He smiles. "She makes me happy, mother."

"And Elia?" His smile faded into something… unsure. So much history there. "I haven't been blind, my son - how affectionate the both of you are to each other." Obvious explanations such as placating Dorne did come to mind, but Rhaella knew her son. Those moments were genuine. "Everything's changed."

For the life of him, Rhaegar couldn't lie to his mother. She would see through his bullshit. "What can I say?"

"You love her." It wasn't a question.

"She's the mother of my children, my confidant… yes, I do love her." He had seen it in the past, especially of his own family. The political marriage set aside by a stronger royal in favor of a loving, lustful second relationship - be it marriage or a simple mistress. Not everyone has the luck of grandfather, marrying only for love. "I see the pain in her eyes, the bitterness… I blame myself." Rhaegar had tried to keep in his hurt for so long, but Rhaella was always someone he could confide in.

"You don't need to tell me more, my son." Her letters to her uncle Aemon - he had been her rock during the most painful of times, and his stories of the past had brought much knowledge to her. "You are more like my father than you realize, Rhaegar. Even in allowing a place in your heart for more than one."

Rhaegar's eyes widened, shifting from his lap to gaze at his mother. "Grandfather… loved two?"

Rhaella nodded. "It was a trying time for House Targaryen. Plagues, wars, rebellions. Lord Bloodraven kept it together, but only barely. As the youngest son of the youngest son, my father never expected to be King so he sought to marry for love… and he loved his sister. My aunt Rhae." It had been no secret, hence her and her elder sister Rhaelle's names… or why Aegon had asked her to name her son Rhaegar. "They wished to marry, but after all the plagues brought Maeker to the line of succession, he forbade it."

"Why?" While polygamous marriage was forbidden for fear of antagonizing the Faith - Daeron II choosing to alienate his half-brother rather than letting him take two wives - the Doctrine of Exceptionalism still applied to siblings.

"She was promised to another Lord. Someone who would secure our position." Rhaella sighed. "As such, he journeyed the Realm and fell in love with my mother." A chuckle escaped her lips. "But for the entire time of their marriage, Aunt Rhae was their lover."

The Prince was absolutely stunned. How did no one know of this? "His search of the dragons, it was to be able to openly marry Rhae, wasn't it?"

He doesn't need to know the other reason… not yet. "Aye, that was my father's main goal. Tragically, his efforts killed not only himself, but also both of his loves." A tear fell down her cheek. "You, my son, have fortune on your side that he didn't. It's in our blood, don't deny it."

Luck, providence, fortune. Could his duty, as Aemon told him, be loving these two beauties? "Thank you, mother."

Smiling, Rhaella rose and kissed Rhaegar's cheek. "Just make sure Elia knows you love her independent of Lyanna. They will never let you go."


Elia looked at the she-wolf incredulously. "So wait, Arthur never left Dacey's side all night?"

A grin was planted on Lyanna's face, both of the princesses leaned forward on their loveseats - gossiping like two and ten year-old maidens. "He did, not that Dacey sees how momentous this was. All she can do is point at Ellaria and disclose that Arthur tried nothing but a hand on the small of her back rather than fall into bed like Oberyn did." There was no real secret where the Dornish Princess' night had been spent following the betrothal feast. "She's not just smitten with Ser Stuffy. I have little doubt that she's in love with him."

"What is it with you northerners?" laughed Elia, swatting at Lyanna's knee. "Diving in and shaking up matters like a blizzard? Arthur was a stoic septon before the she-bear showed up."

"And Ellaria? I'm sure her teaching Dacey the Dornish ways of seduction didn't have an effect?" Lyanna sighed. "Arthur was as stoic as a septon, while Ellaria had a much easier time of it. At least her target in Oberyn was someone not against a quick roll in the hay."

Crossing her legs, Elia glanced up at the ceiling. "Not a roll in the hay, sister." She paused for effect. "Ellaria's in love with him too… at least that's what I think." An incredulous laugh. "My lady in waiting, the woman that sampled half the cocks and cunts in the Red Keep, in love… and with my brother no less."

"Knowing his reputation, I doubt their wild ways would cease even if they tie the knot."

Blinking, Elia's jaw dropped. "Gods, you're right. That would be scandalous… right up their alley."

They were in Lyanna's chambers, sharing a glass of Dornish Apple and talking about literally everything under the sun. While Aerys and his conduct towards both of them did come up, both restricted their conversation to happy things - the wedding was in the morning… the moment where Lyanna would have her dreams come true with the man she adored since first laying eyes on him. Neither were interested in having a sullen mood prior to that momentous occasion. "Did you ever think you'd get to be here?" Lyanna suddenly asks, causing Elia to blink.

That was an… interesting question. "I'm not sure what you mean, sister?"

"We all know that I never expected this… even in spite of dreaming of something similar for years… but the Martells have married into House Targaryen before. Rhaegar has Martell blood. Did you expect it, or was it a surprise?"

"I…" There were so many competing emotions here. "I thought it a possibility… it's what my father and brother raised me for, but everyone thought Cersei Lannister would end up as Rhaegar's." The thought of the lioness having her paws on the Prince made Elia's blood boil. Possessiveness, a sign of love. Ironically, the inner voice sounded like a mix of her brother and Elia. "I hoped for a happy life as in the songs. That certainly was dashed rather quickly." Elia looked away, fighting a tear.

Lyanna reached over to clasp her sister-wife's hands. "I can see you two together recently, how happy he seems. Things are getting better." A small smile formed on the she-wolf's lips.

Elia shifted her gaze to the northerner. "And it truly doesn't bother you?"

"No. I trust Rhaegar to love me with all his heart alongside you, sister. Does it bother you?"

No… yes… perhaps… I don't know… Most of her didn't, but the nagging view of her brother persisted - a fear for Aegon and Rhaenys. The fear from that night she had listened in. "Not since you showed your love for my children."

"Our children, as much mine as babes of my womb will be yours." It was how Rhaella described Aenys and Maegor while their father and Mother Visenya were alive, and Lyanna wanted the same. Seeing how wonderful Elia was as a mother, her children by Rhaegar would be well raised by her… and it was simply the best way to go forth. One united front.

"Our children," Elia corrected. You may love them… but your family might not say the same. Politics had a way of ripping apart sentimentality. Something in Lyanna drew her notice, as if she was hiding something… "Lyanna. What's wrong?"

A sigh. There was no hiding it. "Connington." Elia tensed. "Rhaenys overheard something he was telling Pycelle… at least I think it was Pycelle. I think the Hand was trying to sow doubt about us, that I would take Rhaenys away from you." Her fists clenched.

Elia noticed this. Years in the Red Keep taught her to read the genuineness of emotion… and Lyanna's was genuine. Was that what all this was about? What I heard? The Princess felt bad now… for misunderstanding. "There's no need to worry, Lya. I know you won't take her away from me."

Do you?

Yes…

Lyanna felt relieved a bit, but the underlying issue remained. "There's some reason he hates me… and you."

"He's in love with Rhaegar." Lyanna stared at her. "I can tell the looks. They're the same ones you give him."

"Oh… well. Rhaegar can't help him there."

"I know that… from personal experience." The two of them laughed.

Suddenly, a groan could be heard through the walls, followed by an intense creak as one section of stone slabs swung open. Elia practically jumped, while Lyanna both had her heart struck and instinctively moved ahead of her soon to be sister-wife. Facing the threat…

Only for Rhaegar to appear. "Ladies… hope I didn't frighten you."

Both trying to calm their hearts, it was Lyanna that first picked up a pillow to chuck at her beloved. "You cunt! What was that? Where did you come from?!"

"The Red Keep has tunnels created by Maegor, only accessible by the Royal Family…" Elia explained, but not before throwing a pillow herself. "But that doesn't excuse your being a cunt!" another pillow before Rhaegar strode right before them. Making them notice his simple clothes… and how handsome he looked in them. "What… what are you doing here."

He smiled. "Here." A bag was handed to them. Rifling through it, Lyanna pulled out a simple peasent's dress and clothes. Eyes questioning. "We're going out… to the city."

"You can't be serious?" Elia asked more on the practical side than her desire. "Wait… is this what you and Ser Barristan kept doing at night?" That was one mystery solved.

Lyanna would ask him about these trips by Ser Barristan. "I think he is… where are your guards?"

Rhaegar's grin widened. "None. Blackfyre is enough." He patted his sheathed sword before handing Lyanna a personal longsword. "Oh, you'll need this."

How the smirk spread on Lyanna's face made the Dornish Princess shiver.


"Oh, Bran…" A long mewl escaped her lips as Catelyn felt her betrothed's tongue snaking up the column of her neck. Shivering at how madly good it felt. "We should… stop…"

Reaching a patch of skin behind her ear, Brandon suckled it. Enjoying how the Tully girl writhed underneath him. "Why?"

Catelyn's hips bucked up as if on instinct - humping his crotch for relief. Whimpering at the strip of silk that shrouded her womanhood from his nakedness. "Because… not married…" Her mind said this was against the way of the Seven, but gods… her body wanted more.

Noticing this, Brandon chuckled. "We're betrothed." He had bedded many women. While they were generally better at the actual act, gods… seeing the prim and pious Catelyn Tully melt beneath him was amazing. "We shall be married."

"Still… not… mmmm…"

Hands grabbing the hem of the nightdress, her own wool dress having been discarded with his clothes upon the floor barely moments after he entered her chambers, Brandon rid Catelyn of her last strip of fabric. Licking his lips at the sight of pert breasts and a thatch of fire red hair at her womanhood that matched that of her head. "Kissed by fire…" he whispered deeply, attacking her breasts.

"Fu…" Even in passion, she bit back the profanity. "Bran…" Catelyn was teetering on the edge…

"Tell me to stop, Cat." He grabbed his member and tapped it against her entrance. One that only knew his touch.

The jolts through her core ended even the tiniest whimper of protest, and Catelyn bit her lip with a silent groan when Brandon pushed inside her. Feeling an explosion of pleasure that she had never before known. Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his hips, surrendering to him as he kissed her deeply. How could something so wrong feel soooo good… Her septas had to be wrong…

Spring in his step, Brandon leaned over to kiss the beauty passed out in his bed. Catelyn shivered in her sleep, snuggling against the pillow while murmuring his name. "I will enjoy making heirs with you, sweet wife," he chuckled. Tying his scabbard on his waist and heading off to meet with Elbert Arryn for a spar before bed, he left his chambers only to stop in his tracks… "Oh, Prince Oberyn."

Smirking, the Prince of Dorne crossed his arms. "I had come minutes ago, but it seemed as if you were busy."

Brandon wasn't Ned or Lyanna, so he only grinned. "Yeah… I was preoccupied with something… or rather someone." They proceeded down the hall, Oberyn walking beside him. Hells, he's fun to be around.

"I wouldn't have imagined Catelyn Tully to be anything less than a Septa."

Blinking, Brandon was only mildly surprised that Oberyn knew who he was bedding - most of him didn't care. "Eh, I'm sure you know what it means. Women not keeping their hands off you?"

Oberyn grinned. "Not just women." There was a slight silence. "Worried about dishonoring her?" At Brandon's quizzical look, he held up his hands. "I'm the last person who could pass sentence, but I'm simply curious."

Shrugging, Brandon clicked his tongue. "We'll be married in six months at the most. She takes moon tea. Harmless sin, and I don't even follow the Faith of the Seven. Uptight fools."

"You and I are kindred spirits, Brandon Stark." This person is probably less of a threat than his brother. He'd push him just a tiny bit more, gain a little certainty. "The moon is beautiful tonight… though I far prefer it at sea. Now there… you are truly able to see the expanse of the heavens."

Brandon laughed. "I envy you, Oberyn. Able to travel the world, see new places, fuck beautiful women of every color and creed… that's the life I was born to live."

A quirked eyebrow. "But you are the heir. Supreme power over the North only behind that of the King… perhaps Rhaegar would even make you Hand?" He'd peg Ned as a sooner pick than Brandon, but Oberyn wanted to see his reaction.

"Pfft…" Brandon snorted. "The North… it's fine cause the people there are wholesome, but King's Landing… I'd rather be anywhere else. Too many unctuous fools. I just hate the pretenses, the guardedness. No one is open or fun down here… like you and me."

Oberyn smiled. "Aye, Brandon, like you and me." Things were going well. "I do wish I could come here more though, to see my sister and her children."

"I wouldn't begrudge you for that, I'll be coming here a lot to see Lyanna as well." Brandon shook his head, smirking. "Rhaegar's a lucky man, two beautiful wives. I'd very much like to be in his place… only, not with my sister…"

He patted the other man's shoulder. "Oh, I understand." Yes, not a threat at all.


Somehow, Ellaria Sand had expected her friend to show up dejected and scowling at her chamber door. "Please, enter," she managed to say as Dacey simply brushed past her, falling on the bed and burying her face in a pillow. "Make yourself at home."

"I don't know what to do, Ellaria," Dacey groaned. "Nothing is working."

The bastard lady was merely thankful that Dacey hadn't arrived half an hour before. Bed tidied, cum stains washed off with a wet cloth, and a still hard Prince Oberyn shooed out of the room. "Tell me what happened." Much as Ellaria would have loved to swoon about her insatiable new conquest in the Martell nobleman, Dacey came first.

"It was humiliating. I batted my eyelashes and presented myself in front of Ser Arthur like some roast boar and he simply escorted me to my room after a few dances. His hand on my back was the only touch I had!" She truly hated herself. Angry for letting herself fall so hard for the unattainable Sword of the Morning. "This was all a mistake."

For a moment there was silence as the more experienced woman digested the information. Ellaria began laughing, deep and throatily. "You are such a delight, Dacey. So nice, so innocent."

Dacey sat up and glared, hands on her hips. "This isn't funny."

"Yes it is." Wiping her face, Ellaria pulled her friend in for a hug. "Oh, Dacey. Calm down - everything is gonna be fine."

"How, you don't possibly know that?"

"Oh, but I do." Sitting on her knees, hands tucked into her lap, Ellaria felt like a young girl hosting friends over in her chambers - or as a teen hosting friends for… other things in her chambers. "Arthur has never coupled with a woman."

Eyes going wide, Dacey suddenly understood. "I had no idea… he seemed so calm and dashing…" Knowing this… it explained their first meeting - how tongue tied he was. "He's never had experience with a lover."

"Let me tell you something about Arthur… he's been able to keep his celibacy for so long where most other knights of the Kingsguard fail because he has an iron will. Ignorant of females that he is, he knows how to resist them." Dacey's face falling made Ellaria chuckle. "But he grew up with the Dornish - the sexiest women in the Seven Kingdoms, but he's immune. Compared to them, those other Andals are nothing." She waved her hand dismissively, "But the wild beauty of a Northerner… earthy and powerful…" Ellaria clicked her tongue. "Know how to use it properly and you'll have him in the palm of your hand."

Gulping, Dacey imagined it. She couldn't picture any lover besides Arthur Dayne, giving her first to anybody but the enigmatic Sword of the Morning. The she-bear finally know how Lyanna must have felt during her courtship with Rhaegar… deeply enchanted. "Tell me what I must do."

A wide grin broke out on Ellaria's face. Satisfied… dangerous. "First," she clasped her head on each side. "You must look him in the eye. Love comes in at the eyes."

Love comes in at the eyes. Dacey nodded. "What else?"

"Always keep your hands on him. Hands or lips." The blush on Dacey's face was just too adorable. She definitely needs a good fuck. "Tell me, have you ever touched anyone before… in any manner?"

"Umm…" It was dreadfully embarrassing - the northern convention did infect Dacey in some manner. "A few guards… stableboys…"

Ellaria rolled her eyes. "Pish. Servants are easy. Touch them the right way and they'll finish right where they stand."

"Finish?" Dacey inquired. At Ellaria's knowing look, she blushed again. "Oh."

"Relax, Dacey." She placed a comforting squeeze on her shoulder. "You're going for a mighty knight, so your touches and kisses will have to be…" Ellaria's voice dropped. "Powerful… seductive…" Her hands drifted down Dacey's arms, leaning to just above the ear. "Overpowering…"

Suddenly, Dacey found herself flipped over. Pinned to the bed. "Uh, Ellaria…" She was silenced when her friend kissed her full on the lips. Tongue entering at her gasp. "Whoa, what?" she managed to sputter when the fellow Lady in Waiting pulled back. "Why did you do that?" More shock than anger.

Still pinning her hands, Ellaria's eyes danced with mirth. "You're wound tightly, Dacey. Not knowing," she said, leaning down to kiss along the Northern beauty's neck. "Just how to let go. To enjoy your body… you don't know just how sensitive your body is." Slowly, Ellaria began to work at the laces of Dacey's nightshirt. An expert for both smallfolk and noble ladies alike. "You must know all before you seek to seduce the mighty Arthur Dayne.

"I…" Dacey may be damned to the seven hells by the Faith for this, but damn if it didn't feel amazing. No deeper feelings other than lust, but Ellaria amplified the latter, playing Dacey like a fiddle. "But… we're friends…"

Ellaria kissed her again. "Shhh… I don't expect this to last longer than tonight." The Dornishwoman peeled off her own thin nightgown. "Just learn, and enjoy." A hiss escaped her lips when their bare skin met - friend as Dacey was, gods knew how much Ellaria wanted her from the beginning… at least only once. "When you are Ser Arthur's Lady, only thank me."

"Mmmmm… alright." Allowing herself to surrender, Dacey pictured that wonderful image as she started to learn more about her body than she had ever thought possible.


"'At'll be five stars, please," said the jolly street vendor, smiling as the coins clinked on the wooden counter of his cart. "'Une moment, ladies." He moved to the smoking portable oven in which the rounded pies cooked to a juicy warmth.

Rocking up and down on the balls of her feet, Elia fidgeted with the blue roundel at the end of her new necklace not for the first time that night. "I have to say it again, Lya. This is beautiful."

Paying two gold dragons for it, Lyanna felt that it had been her that got their coin's worth. "You deserve it, sister. And I have to admit that the bounty of the North compliments you."

"What is the stone called?" It was surrounded by six gold chains hooked to the silver band, nestling the sphere tightly.

"It's called kaskagos. Only found in the north and in some places in the Vale." She patted the pouch in her cloak, gift secure within. "Had to find some way to repay you." A needle-like knife in the Dornish style. Lyanna had almost squealed when Elia dropped it in her hands. Her woollen cloak made as perfect a place to hide it as it did the sword Rhaegar gave her. Perfect to skewer any being that threatened her… and yet no one did. It's safer here than in the Red Keep.

The Dornish Princess in hiding grinned. "Had to give you something for your wedding… and what does Lady Lyanna like more than…" It really meant more than that, as did her gift, but neither of them were able to realize it at that time. Something caught her eyes.

"And 'ere ya' go." Plopping two steaming pies on the counter, the vendor beamed on his chubby face. "Enjoy, though I'd 'ike em spoons back."

Picking up her pie, Lyanna dug the spoon in and drew out a healthy helping of chicken, carrots, and cheese. Searing hot, but her tongue exploded nonetheless. "Gods… this is good." Only Old Nan's kidney pies were better.

"You're right sister… it is good." Elia was scarfing hers down, not caring about propriety. "Have you considered opening a store?" she asked the vendor.

"Maybe, 'after I's get a wife and babe, 'abably." He laughed. "Tell yer' friends bout me. Ot Pie's pies." His belly jostled as he laughed harder.

"Will do… mmmm…"

The marketplace was bustling with people even as the large and bright moon was high in the sky. Shopkeepers and merchants plying their wares, vendors offering all kinds of food - sausages, syrup-glazed fruit, freshly baked breads and pastries, and juicy pies to name a few - and the dozens of minstrels, jugglers, and other entertainers… the intense night life drew those from all over the city. A cross-section of Westeros as was possible - both Princesses could understand why Rhaegar would enjoy coming here. Strolling around while he had 'a surprise' to take care of, they felt more alive than any time in years.

Licking her fingers clean of the bits of grease and flakes of crust, Lyanna looked up to find a small crowd gathering around one of the many fountains dotting the marketplace. "What's that?" It seemed as if dozens of people were flocking towards the commotion, almost all of them clad in the outfits of poor laborers or simple tradesmen.

Herself curious, Elia shrugged. "Who knows?" First instinct leaned her towards a street minstrel - there were several in the marketplace, often in troupes, competing with each other for the coin and attention of the hustle and bustle within the marketplace. However, none seemed to be as popular as the crowd that gathered around this hypothetical minstrel. He could be a quite skilled musician. "Perhaps..."

Sensing the look in Elia's eyes, Lyanna pieced the train of thought together. "You don't think…?" Now this was interesting. "Let's see if you're right, sister."

Both thin and quick on their feet, the two beauties managed to shimmy and wheedle their way through the milling crowd. The smell of unwashed bodies made their noses curl in distaste. Yet, neither cared. People were jovial, laughing and japing with each other. Children racing about with homemade toys or none at all. An earnestness about them that was absent in most highborns, the Princesses feeling more at ease among the former

And plenty gushed about the particular minstrel. "Thought I 'econized 'im."

"E's 'een gone a'hile."

"'Ank 'de gods ee's back."

"He's so handsome." The latter came from a young girl. No older than three and ten by the looks of her.

"Always keeps his head under the cloak," replied a companion.

Lyanna grabbed Elia's hand, leading the hidden Princess forward through the final line of people - finding a hooded figure sitting on the lip of the fountain. Face hidden… but both Princesses knew it was him. Knowing that toned, brooding form anywhere.

"Did you know he did this?" Lyanna's beloved, sneaking out into the city to simply play his harp and sing to the smallfolk? Gods, Rhaegar. I love you. He just couldn't stop being the perfect man. Strong yet caring. Gentle yet protective. She wanted to rush out to hug him, but was unable to root herself from her perch at the front of the throng of people.

"He never told me… but now certain things make sense." Sometimes he and Ser Barristan would disappear, unable for her to find them. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell would keep her from Rhaegar's personal chambers - apparently both had snuck out of the Red Keep.

"Our man is breathtaking," Lyanna breathed.

"That he is." At that moment he stood up, hair still masked by the cowl but his face coming into view. Smiling softly until those violet eyes - glowing under the torchlight of the market - came in contact with the two women. Elia saw his expression change from surprise to an almost warm glow. She shivered with delight at her husband's attention.

Unwilling to make either Elia or Lyanna wait any further, Rhaegar cleared his throat. "Thank you for coming tonight, listening to me…"

"Sing the Bear and the Maiden Fair!" came one request from the crowd. Lyanna wished to ask him to play Jenny of Oldstones, but that song was for them and them alone.

"The Dornishman's Wife!" was another, words slurred by the clearly drunken man.

Rhaegar nodded at that. "Tempting, tempting," he announced with a grin, eyes boring in on his wife. Elia blushed and shot her husband a cross look. Lyanna giggled in her joy. Reminded that the particular song was a bawdy one. Cheeky bastard…

The crowd kept calling out requests. "Flowers of Spring, Jon!" came the call of the young girl from earlier.

Jon? "Is that his name?" Lyanna asked.

"Aye, Jon Snow of the North. The Seven gave him his voice."

Lyanna's head shifted to Rhaegar in surprise. Jon Snow of the north… by the old gods and new, I'll kill him. Apparently the Crown Prince had hidden his identity as a northern bastard lost in King's Landing…

"Almost meant to be, if you think about it," Elia whispered into her ear.

"I love that man so much." Her sister-wife was right… they were meant to be long before they even met.

Watching Lyanna smile so adoringly, Rhaegar knew just the song. "Prince Rhaegar is getting married on the morrow." There were cheers at his name. "Therefore, I shall dedicate this song to his beautiful wives." He could swear both women swooned.

Fingers strummed at the harp. All noise stilled, drawn to the beautiful music made by the hidden dragon. Haunting, yet almost an intensity about it.

"Search for the glory I knew all along,

"I face the flames, thy touch on my hand,

"Alone facing our final dawn,

"Alone I stand a complete man."

Elia recognized the song. Dance of Dragons, one about a pair of lovers dying in each other's arms during the Doom of Valyria. Normally, it was played by a troupe of minstrels… but Rhaegar's voice was so hauntingly beautiful that no one noticed.

"All I have is one last chance,

"I won't turn my back on you,

"Take my hand, they'll drag me down,

"If you burn then I will too,

"And I will meet the flames with you."

There wasn't even a sound from the crowd, people lured from the rest of the market by the stunning chords of the harp. Rhaegar's voice so beautiful that even the gods had to be listening.

"Our love burns anew,

"There is nothing left,

"I can't face the doom without you,

"There's nothing left to lose,

"Our fight finally ends,

"I can't face the doom without you."

"Embrace me tight until I hurt,

"I understand there's nothing left,

"Pain so close to the heart,

"Lest eternity forgets."

Rhaegar watched as the crowd stilled, enchanted by his voice, occasionally one darting forward to drop a coin into a small sack by the fountain. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers pluck the notes on pure instinct.

"Our love burns anew,

"There is nothing left,

"I can't face the doom without you,

"There's nothing left to lose,

"Our fight finally ends,

"I can't face the doom without you."

He found the figures of both his wife and his betrothed. Dressed as simple smallfolk maidens but just as beautiful. Oh how he loved them. Lyanna, the wild direwolf that filled the hole in his heart. And Elia… at that moment he understood what his grandfather must have felt, the dragonblood in him pulsing with enough love for two. There was still much to repair, but the Prince was sure of what wanted.

Preparing the last of the song, he stared at the both of them. Lyrics tragic, but his expression telling both of them that such tragedy would never touch their marriage if he had anything to say about it.

"Gods be kind,

"Gods grant us grace,

"Don't leave me ever again,

"I'm with you forever, the end.

Tears coated the cheeks of the onlookers, even the most salty character. Men closing their eyes as they were moved by the powerful words, women of all ages melting from the angelic lilt of Rhaegar's voice. Hands still intertwined, Elia felt Lyanna reaching over, seeking to lock together their free hands. Unable not to tremble as their beloved serenaded them. For as he walked about, his sparkling purple eyes never left them.

"Our love burns anew,

"There is nothing left,

"I can't face the doom without you,

"There's nothing left to lose,

"Our fight finally ends,

"I can't face the doom without you."

There was a silence just as the song ended. Hanging over the market like a baited breath… it ended abruptly as hundreds began clapping. Whistling their admiration of the mysterious minstrel of the North named Jon Snow. Dozens came to drop coins in the sack. Bronze stars and silver stags… even a gold dragon every now and again from a well dressed merchant.

Lyanna wiped the tears from her face. "That was even more beautiful than when I heard him first."

"Rhaegar…" whispered Elia, ever mindful in spite of her heart fluttering from his voice. "Whenever he sang, I forgot my pain." She started to sob. "I… I never told him… how much it always meant to me…" Her sister-wife pulled her into an embrace - gods help her, Lyanna's arms were just as comforting as Rhaegar's.

When they pulled apart, he was gone. Crowd starting to disband and go about their business. Lyanna kissed Elia's cheek and tugged at her hand. "He shouldn't have gone far."

They found him in an alley, hidden from the view of the market. Seated upon the stoop of a dark shop waiting for them. At seeing them, Rhaegar smiled and stood. "My loves…" He staggered back when both of them practically charged into his arms. Almost knocking him down with a tight embrace. Lyanna was the lucky one to reach his lips first, kissing him deeply. Rhaegar had barely any time to breathe when they broke apart before Elia sought him out. Her subtle Dornish fragrance oh so different from the wild, piney scent of his northern beauty, but in no way less pleasant to him. "I take it you liked."

Pulling back to stare into his eyes, Elia felt the same spark between them as they shared during their wedding. Before the hope had died… "You were amazing, my Prince." Now, it was slowly resurrecting.

Lyanna couldn't stop kissing his cheek. "Love you. Love you… gods, I love you." Both simply felt giddy, two maidens swooning over the man they loved. "I can't believe you're a simple bard."

Rhaegar shrugged, slightly embarrassed - leading to more kisses from the ladies. "Aunt Jenny got me started on it. My father hated when I played in the Red Keep, so she would disguise me and we'd play for the smallfolk. After she died… Barristan came with me." He pointed to the sack of coins. "I only wanted to practice my music - the coin would go to charities across the city."

"Charity… wait. You're the bard at the orphanage!" Elia grinned, finally figuring it out. "I should have known. Matron Seaworth has high praise for you." She leaned in to kiss him deeply.

Rhaegar chuckled against her lips. "Honestly, this was the largest haul I've ever managed to get for them." He reached his hands out to wrap around their waists. "The two of you inspire me."

Kissing his neck simultaneously, Lyanna finally remembered something. She pulled back, lips crooked in curiosity. "Jon Snow?"

He blushed a deep red. "Oh, Lyanna. No."

While utterly adorable, Lyanna didn't let up on the pressure. "A northern bastard name, Rhaegar? I need to know."

A plea to Elia, all three still locked in an embrace, went nowhere. "I want to know this too." Her accent added an extra emphasis. "Tell us, husband."

Rhaegar closed his eyes, sighing hard. "Needed to keep myself hidden, yet also exotic… Valyrian features aren't common here." Having decided on it years ago, before even Elia, the memories were foggy. "I can't explain it… the name just called to me. As if someone with that name was important in some way…"

A finger on his lips cut him off. "Rhaegar…" Lyanna's eyes glistened with happy tears. Allowing the full weight of the song and how perfect he was to return. "You are mine… ours… I love you so much." Unable to say the words, Elia only nodded in agreement. Both women resumed the tight hug.

Smiling widely, Lyanna leaned into his shoulder. Letting the sweet, generous man she was to marry on the morn make her feel all the love in the world. Is there truly any better? Kind Marya Seaworth recognized them immediately, but luckily she merely winked at them knowingly, the only one besides her, Elia, and the Kingsguards who knew of Rhaegar's charity. Just how amazing he was. That he does it with no public praise only makes him more perfect. Finding it so easy to be affectionate with the man she loved… with no audience but Elia, who by this time tomorrow would be her sister-wife. Never did she think she'd be living out her childhood fantasies, but here she was.

Only Lyanna's mind was whirring. Jon… The name called to her too. Jon… Prince Jon… Prince Jon Targaryen…

A/N: So here we have the origin of Jon's name :D Seems poetic, doesn't it?

Yep, a little change in backstory... I mean why not? It could have happened. Gonna have ramifications down the line, though.

Oberyn being Oberyn and Ellaria being Ellaria ;)

Dance of Dragons is adapted from Without You by Breaking Benjamin.

Next up, part one of the wedding! If I can get 35 reviews, I'll post Tuesday.