Rise of the Dragon King Chapter 3: The Arrival, a game of thrones fanfic

Chapter 3: The Arrival

Crownlands 283 AC

"The dragon must have three heads…"

"The dragon must have three heads…"

Rhaegar Targaryen muttered these words repeatedly in his sleep. The phrase echoed in his mind, haunting him. Suddenly, another voice broke through the fog of his dream, starting as a whisper and growing louder with each repetition.

"Rhaegar… Rhaegar… RHAEGAR!"

He jolted awake, gasping for breath, and found himself staring into the worried violet eyes of his best friend, Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning looked at him with a mix of horror and concern.

"Arthur," Rhaegar whispered, disoriented. Then he noticed something else—the look on Arthur's face was the same look he had given Rhaegar's father during the Mad King's fits of insanity.

"Burn them all…"The memory of Aerys's horrific voice sent a shudder through him.

Rhaegar snapped out of his melancholy and noticed the bright sunlight streaming through the tent flap, accompanied by the sounds of armored men moving about the camp, shouting, and drilling. He remembered they were marching to King's Landing, with the Northerners, Valemen, and the remnants of the Stormlands host joining his army. Each contingent brought its own distinct banners and cries, creating a mosaic of loyalty and unity that underscored the gravity of their mission.

He recalled his conversation with Ned—no, Lord Stark—and Lord Arryn. He had pardoned them for their rebellion, recognizing that their cause had been just. Besides, Lord Stark was his good brother now, and Lyanna would never forgive him if he harmed her beloved brother.

But his fury had turned to Hoster Tully, the traitorous bastard who had sought to elevate his standing by marrying off his daughters to the rebels. Hoster had tried to use the war and the chaos to raise his own family's position in the realm, an act that Rhaegar considered nothing short of treason.

Rhaegar's mind wandered back to the aftermath of the Battle of the Trident. In the twilight of victory, as the rivers ran red with the blood of the fallen, the Targaryen prince had convened a council of the high lords. Tensions were high, the air thick with the scent of sweat, iron, and fear. The loyalist and rebel lords gathered under the watchful gaze of the Seven, their faces etched with the marks of exhaustion and wary hope.

Hoster Tully was brought forth, his hands bound and his head held high despite the defeat. He wore the proud colors of House Tully, the silver trout on a field of red and blue, but there was no pride in his eyes—only resignation. The murmur of the crowd grew as he was forced to his knees before Rhaegar.

"Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun," Rhaegar began, his voice ringing out over the assembled lords. "You stand accused of treason against the crown, of raising banners in rebellion, and seeking to disrupt the peace of the realm. You used this war to advance your own family's standing. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Hoster looked up, his gaze steady. "I did what I thought was right for my family and my people. I sought to protect them from a mad king."

Rhaegar felt a pang of empathy but steeled himself. He knew that justice had to be served, not only for the sake of the realm but to set an example. "Your cause may have been just, but your actions have sown chaos and death."

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." His wife's words echoed in his mind, imbued with a sense of duty and justice. Rhaegar had taken those words to heart and had decided to wielded the blade himself, embracing the weight of his decisions and the consequences they bore.

With that, Rhaegar drew his sword, the blade glinting ominously in the fading light. He stepped forward, feeling the weight of his duty pressing down on him. He looked into Hoster's eyes one last time, seeing the flicker of defiance and the acceptance of his fate.

"In the name of Aerys of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Rhaegar Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, sentence you to die."

He knew executing Lord Tully in his father's name would be rubbing salt into the wounds of the rebels, but he had no other choice.

I will not proclaim myself king until my father is dealt with. Until then, I'll have to make do with this.

I'm sorry...truly... for causing all of this.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Rhaegar raised his sword. The only sound was the rustling of the banners in the wind. With a swift, clean stroke, the blade fell, and Hoster Tully's head rolled to the ground. The crowd's murmur turned to stunned silence, then a few muffled cries.

Lord Stark had protested his decision earlier but relented after Lord Arryn spoke to him. Even Jon Arryn looked weary as he witnessed his father-in-law's execution. Hoster's blood pooled around his body, staining the ground of the very land he had sought to protect. Rhaegar felt the weight of his actions settle heavily on his shoulders, but he did not waver.

I suppose he would be angry to see his good father die. Ironic, given that he's older than his good father, Rhaegar mused.

"RHAEGAR"

He snapped out of his stupor to see Ser Arthur still standing there with a worried look on his face.

"Your Grace…" Arthur began, but trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

"I'm fine, Arthur," Rhaegar said, rubbing his temples. "It's just… I am overwhelmed with all that's happened in the last few months. I'm sorry."

Arthur sighed tiredly, then informed him, "Your Grace, we are nearing King's Landing. We will be there in two days. Our scouts have reported seeing a host at least 10,000 strong with Lannister banners outside the city."

Of course, Rhaegar thought bitterly.

Tywin Lannister. So the old lion has finally decided to make his move. Rhaegar struggled to discern Tywin's intentions. He must have learned of the outcome of the Battle of the Trident and now seeks to reap the benefits of this conflict. He must have realized that I am moving to remove my father from the throne by forcing him to abdicate, and he wants to secure the capital for me in exchange for boons.

Rhaegar sighed and instructed Arthur to arrange for a messenger to be sent to Tywin Lannister to prepare for his arrival.

As Arthur departed, Rhaegar slumped back into his chair, the weight of the realm's future pressing heavily on his shoulders. The tent around him felt both a sanctuary and a prison, filled with the burdens of leadership and the echoes of his father's madness.

He reached for a goblet of water and took a long, slow sip, trying to steady his nerves. The thought of his dream, the dark phantom, and the icy blue eye haunted him. It was not just the realm he had to save, but the very soul of Westeros.

Outside, the camp buzzed with the organized chaos of an army on the move. Men polished their armor, sharpened their swords, and exchanged tales of past glories and future hopes. The Northerners with their direwolf sigils, the Valemen with their crescent moons and falcons, and the Stormlanders with their crowned stag banners along with the Dornish and houses from the Crownlands and the Riverlands--all of them united under his command, despite the scars of recent conflict.

Rhaegar's mind wandered back to the night before the Battle of the Trident. He had spoken to his men, rallying them with promises of a better future, a just kingdom free of his father's tyranny. He had looked into their eyes and seen belief, fear, and hope all mingled together.

He knew that to lead them now, to truly earn their loyalty, he had to be more than just a prince. He had to be the symbol of the change he promised, the light in the darkness of their struggles.

Rhaegar murmured to himself, almost in a trance, "I must do this. The world of men depends on it."

"The dragon must have three heads."

The words felt both a prophecy and a curse, binding him to a fate that stretched beyond his understanding. He had to succeed, for his children, for Lyanna's memory, and for the future of Westeros. The dream of a peaceful realm was tantalizingly close, yet shrouded in the fog of war and political maneuvering.

As the sun climbed higher, the camp prepared for another day of marching. Rhaegar stood, straightening his tunic and donning his cloak. He was the heir to the Targaryen dynasty, and he would see this through. With a final glance at the map of Westeros spread out on his table, he stepped out into the light, ready to lead his men forward.

King's Landing awaited, and with it, the next chapter of their shared destiny.

King's Landing

Two days later, Rhaegar stood at the head of his army as they approached the sprawling city of King's Landing. The sight of the Red Keep looming in the distance filled him with a mixture of dread and determination. This was the city of his birth, the seat of his ancestors, and now the stage for the most pivotal moment of his life.

King's Landing. How many memories this city holds. The city was a patchwork of emotions for Rhaegar. As they drew closer, the familiar, pungent odor of the capital assailed his senses—the mingling scents of humanity, refuse, and the brine of Blackwater Bay. It was a city of contrasts: the grandeur of the Red Keep against the squalor of Flea Bottom, the bustling markets, the cries of vendors, and the laughter of children playing in the streets.

I remember walking among the smallfolk, disguised and unrecognized, playing my harp in the markets and taverns. Those were simpler days, days when I could lose myself in music and the fleeting joy it brought to others. He had felt a rare sense of peace then, a connection to his people that transcended titles and thrones.

Now, as he led his army toward the city, those memories seemed like distant echoes. The responsibilities of the crown weighed heavily on him, the fate of the realm resting on his shoulders.

As they neared the city gates, Rhaegar's attention was drawn to the sea of crimson and gold banners fluttering in the breeze. The Lannister host, at least 10,000 strong, was encamped outside the city walls. Rows upon rows of tents and pavilions stretched out before him, the polished armor of the Lannister soldiers gleaming in the sunlight.

The sight of the Lannister banners stirred a mix of emotions in Rhaegar. He knew Tywin Lannister was a man of ambition, cunning, and ruthlessness. His presence here was both a blessing and a potential threat.

Tywin Lannister. The man who served my father so faithfully and then turned away. What game are you playing now, old lion? As Rhaegar dismounted his horse and made his way to the Lannister camp, he was met by a contingent of Lannister knights, who escorted him to Tywin's pavilion. The Lord of Casterly Rock was waiting for him, resplendent in his crimson and gold armor. The older man's stern face betrayed little emotion, his piercing eyes assessing Rhaegar with an intensity that was almost palpable.

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Tywin's visage was a mask of controlled power, his sharp features highlighted by the torchlight flickering inside the tent. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Rhaegar's with an unyielding intensity. There was a silent communication in that gaze, a challenge almost, as if Tywin were weighing him, measuring his worth.

"Your Grace," Tywin said with a curt nod, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth.

"Lord Tywin," Rhaegar replied, matching his tone. "I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice."

Tywin inclined his head slightly, a gesture that was both acknowledgment and subtle assertion of his own power. "I hear congratulations are in order, Your Grace. The Battle of the Trident was a decisive victory."

"It was," Rhaegar said, maintaining his composure. "But the war is not yet over."

"Indeed," Tywin replied, his eyes never leaving Rhaegar's. "That is why I am here. To ensure that it ends swiftly and in a manner beneficial to the realm."

Of course, you would. Ever the strategist, ever the calculating mind. What are you truly after, Tywin? Rhaegar studied Tywin's face, searching for any hint of the man's true intentions. "And how do you propose we achieve that, my lord?"

Tywin's expression remained inscrutable. "By securing the city and bringing stability to the realm. Your father's… decisions have caused much unrest. It is time for a change."

Rhaegar felt a surge of resolve. "I intend to ask my father to abdicate. The realm needs a ruler who can lead it into a new era of peace and prosperity."

"A wise decision," Tywin said, his tone carefully neutral. "I am prepared to lend my support to this endeavor. In return, I would expect certain… considerations for House Lannister."

And there it is. Always the price, always the cost. Rhaegar nodded, understanding the unspoken demands. "Your loyalty will not go unrewarded, Lord Tywin. Together, we can ensure a brighter future for Westeros."

Tywin's eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction. "Very well, Your Grace. You have my word."

Rhaegar hesitated for a moment, then decided to address the matter that had been lingering in his mind. "I must admit, Lord Tywin, your absence during much of the rebellion was... noticed. And your arrival now, so near the end, raises questions."

Let's see how you respond to that, old lion. Tywin's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "I serve the realm, Your Grace. My forces were needed to maintain order in the west and ensure that the Lannister lands remained secure."

"A prudent strategy," Rhaegar acknowledged, though his mind worked to decipher the layers of Tywin's words. "Yet some might see it as opportunistic. Arriving just in time to share in the victory, without sharing in the risks." Do you think I don't see your game?

Tywin's face remained impassive, but his eyes flashed with a hint of steel. "A ruler must be strategic, Your Grace. Timing is everything in war and politics."

Rhaegar held his gaze, feeling the palpable tension between them. "Indeed, Lord Tywin. Timing is crucial."

The unspoken challenge hung in the air, a test of wills. Rhaegar knew Tywin was not a man to be underestimated. His support was valuable, but it came with strings attached. He would need to navigate this alliance carefully.

As Rhaegar returned to his own camp, he felt a mixture of relief and unease. Tywin Lannister's support was crucial, but the old lion was not one to be trusted blindly. He would need to keep a close watch on him.

"Your Grace," Barristan began, "how did the meeting go?"

Rhaegar sighed and sank into a chair, running a hand through his silver hair. "Tywin has agreed to support us, but his loyalty comes with conditions. As always, he is playing his own game."

Arthur stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "And what of his intentions? Can we trust him?"

Trust? In these times, trust is a luxury we cannot afford. Rhaegar met Arthur's gaze, the weight of his decisions bearing down on him. "He claims to be here for the good of the realm, but we must remain vigilant. His ambition knows no bounds."

Barristan nodded, his expression grim. "And what of the city? What are your plans, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar took a deep breath, his thoughts swirling. "We will send a messenger to my father, requesting him to open the gates. If he refuses…" He paused, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "We must be prepared for all possibilities."

He looked at his two loyal knights, seeing the concern mirrored in their eyes. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Have I made the right choices?"

Arthur and Barristan exchanged glances, the unspoken bond of their shared loyalty evident. Arthur spoke first, his voice steady. "You did what you had to, Rhaegar. The realm needs a leader who can bring peace and stability. You are that leader."

Rhaegar closed his eyes, the words resonating within him. Peace and stability. That's all I've ever wanted for this realm, for my family. But at what cost? His mind drifted back to the events that had led him here—the rebellion, the battles, the bloodshed. Was it worth it?

The memories of his dream flashed before him: the rivers of blood, the cries of the dying, the icy blue eye of the being beyond the Wall. The dragon must have three heads. The prophecy had guided him, haunted him, but had it blinded him as well?

"I never wanted this," Rhaegar said, his voice thick with emotion. "I was a sweet summer prince once, playing my harp and dreaming of a better world. Now I am a soldier, a leader of men, forced to make decisions that cost lives."

Barristan stepped forward, his hand resting on Rhaegar's shoulder. "Your Grace, the path to peace is often paved with sacrifice. You are doing what must be done, for the good of all."

Rhaegar looked up at the veteran knight, seeing the wisdom in his eyes. Is this my destiny? To bear the weight of the realm's suffering? The thought gnawed at him, but deep down, he knew there was no turning back.

"Send a messenger to my father," he said, his voice firm. "Tell him to open the gates. And prepare our forces. If he refuses, we must be ready."

Arthur and Barristan nodded, their expressions resolute. As they left to carry out his orders, Rhaegar sat in silence, the gravity of his choices settling over him like a shroud.

This is my burden to bear. For the sake of the realm, for the future of my children, I must see this through. He thought of his daughter, Visenya, and the child Lyanna had promised him. The dragon must have three heads. But what of the cost?

He leaned back, staring at the map of King's Landing spread out before him. The city that had once been his home, his sanctuary, now stood as a symbol of all he had to conquer. For the realm, for my family, I must prevail.

Rhaegar's thoughts turned to his father, Aerys. Madness has consumed you, Father. But I will not let it consume our legacy. He felt a steely resolve harden within him. Whatever the outcome, he would fight for the realm's future.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the camp, Rhaegar rose from his seat. There was much to be done, and little time to do it. With a final glance at the map, he stepped out of the tent, ready to face the challenges ahead.

The dragon must have three heads. And I will see it done.