The tale of Ice and Fire

Chapter Two

Dragonstone, 280 AC

Since the end of the tournament, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen couldn't think of anything else other than the beautiful boy he met there. The boy with a very distinctive name: Iclyn Stark.

The prophecy's words were echoing in his mind.

A promised prince, born form Ice and Fire, who would lead the realm back to its greatness.

Living under Aerys' reign made Rhaegar obsessed with the prophecy. He saw all the injustice the inhabitants of the Seven kingdoms were forced to endure, if they didn't want to be burn to death. Even Queen Rhaella wasn't exempt from the king's madness, always spotting bruises on her fair skin.

All Rhaegar wanted was to free the kingdom from its mad king, but even a prince couldn't do much concerning the madness that was eating the king.

A promised prince, born form Ice and Fire, who would lead the realm back to its greatness.

Rhaegar re-read the paragraph of the prophecy. How could Iclyn, a man, give birth to the promised prince?

Maybe he was seeing it all wrong.

Maybe he was prejudiced against the youngest Stark just because of his name. Iclyn Stark. Youngest son of Lord Rickard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North.

Maybe it was Lyanna Stark who was destined to birth the promised prince.

Yes. Lyanna Stark, only daughter of Lord Paramount of the North, was the only candidate to fulfil all the requirements.

Yes, the prophecy must have been about her.

But deep down, Rhaegar knew that he was just kidding himself. He instinctively knew that the prophecy was about Iclyn. He just didn't understand how it could be about the two of them.

Harrenhal, Year of the false spring (c. 281 AC)

Lyanna had accompanied the Stark brothers once again in the Riverlands for the tourney. Iclyn didn't know how his sister was able to convince their father to let her come, but he was nevertheless happy with the outcome.

“It will be fun!” she had said excitedly. Iclyn had rolled his eyes unimpressed. He knew his sister was up to something and it was not something good.

On the first night, Lord Walter Whent hosted a banquet for all the Lords and champions.

At some point, during the evening, most of the Lords (or heirs) disappeared with Prince Rhaegar, but nobody noticed, not even Iclyn, who was busy talking with his sister and the beautiful Ashara Dayne.

As the banquet came to an end, Prince Rhaegar, who returned with all his conspirators unnoticed again, was encouraged to sing and play the harp.

“Of course” he gently agreed. He sat on the stool and began to play the instrument. Melancholic notes began to flow in the silent room followed by a gentle and smooth voice.

Rhaegar sang about a forbidden love, a heartbreaking relationship between two young lovers that couldn't live freely.

Rhaegar poured his soul into the song, captivating all the room with his voice.

Iclyn felt a lump in his throat, something inside him wanted to yell to the Dragon Prince that he would always be his, no matter what. A single tear slid down his left cheek.

“Are you crying?” Iclyn quickly removed the tear with his right hand and cleared his voice.

“Oh! You are crying!” Benjen looked carefully at his little brother.