Beneath the shadows of fire and steel,
Old secrets stir wounds yet to heal.
A crown once lost, a path unclear,
Blood will flow, and fate draws near.
Echoes whisper of swords unsheathed,
Of fallen kings and vengeance breathed.
The dragon's roar, a ha...
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After the meeting, Rhaegar found a quiet moment to meet with Rhaenys Velaryon, his betrothed. In the secluded gardens of the Red Keep, she trained with a wooden sword, her movements graceful yet powerful. Rhaegar watched her, pride swelling within him as she parried an imagined opponent's strikes.
"You wield that sword with the grace of a dragon princess," he said, stepping into the sunlight. His voice was a mix of admiration and challenge.
Rhaenys paused, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You taught me well, cousin. Or do you think a woman should only wield a needle?"
He stepped closer, a small smile tugging at his lips as his gaze locks on hers. "I have never believed that and neither should you. You are as capable as any man. Perhaps even more so."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she stepped toward him, lowering her sword. "Then teach me more, my prince. I want to be ready for anything." The tension in their gaze was unmistakable.
Rhaegar reached for her, pulling her closer. "You are already stronger than most of my men, Rhaenys, but be careful. The world is not kind to those who defy its expectations."
"I will never bow to anyone but you," she replied, her voice fierce. "I want to fight beside you, not behind you."
he gave a small warm smile as they leaned closer to each other, their lips met in a soft kiss, a fleeting moment that held the weight of their shared dreams. In those brief seconds, the burdens of the world faded away, and all that mattered was their connection—a bond forged in love and mutual respect.
Yet as Rhaegar held her close, he felt a chill creep into his heart, an unsettling premonition that lingered in the back of his mind.
As night descended upon the Red Keep, Rhaegar attended to his duties, his thoughts ever drifting back to Rhaenys. Just as he prepared to retire, a strange sensation gripped him—a sudden dizziness that swayed him on his feet. The air grew heavy as if an unseen weight pressed down upon him.
Then, without warning, he collapsed, falling to the cold stone floor. Rhaegar lay unmoving, his once vibrant eyes turning milky white, the strength that had defined him now absent. The echo of his body hitting the ground sent ripples through the hall, causing the gathered courtiers to gasp in shock.
"Rhaegar!" Viserys who was just around heard the voice of someone collapsed as he run to see, when he sees Rhaegar in view laying on the floor unmoving he cried, rushing forward, his voice laced with panic.
Daemon followed closely behind, his youthful face pale with fear. The sight of their brother, their protector, sprawled lifelessly on the floor shattered their composure."Someone help him!" Viserys shouted, kneeling beside Rhaegar, and shaking him gently. "Wake up! Please!"
King Jaehaerys, comes in a hurry after being informed as he sees his grandson lying on the floor like a corpse, frail and trembling, called for the maesters, desperation etched on his face. "Rhaegar, my boy! No!" His voice trembled, cracking under the weight of fear.
Daemon, tears streaming down his cheeks, gripped Rhaegar's hand, pleading, "Please, brother, wake up!"
The hallway was filled with chaos, shouts for the maesters intermingling with cries of despair. For the first time, Rhaegar Targaryen, the indomitable prince, lay at the mercy of fate, and his family watched in horror as the embodiment of their strength lay vulnerable, unmoving, a cruel twist of destiny rendering them powerless.
As the masters rushed into the chamber, their faces lined with grim determination, Rhaegar's fate hung in the balance, a haunting reminder of the fragility of life, even for a Targaryen.
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