The Last Dragon -Rhaegar's Story

The Path

It is time.

Most of the Lords of Westros have answered my letter positively. I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn to my squire, Myles Mooton. "They have agreed to come."

Myles returns my strained smile. " Are you sure, my Lord? If the King finds out..."

Oh yes, the horrors never leave me. Pouring myself a cup of deep red wine, I ask the same from my squire. He simple shakes his head. Yes, I am his son, his heir. He cannot harm me. Not exactly. I cannot bear to watch more people burned alive in wildfire while my Father laughs. 'The Mad King' suites him. But it is time, if not too late, that I do something.

"Don't you worry." The wine is blurring my head, just when I need it to. "Spread the news that we start preparing to travel to the Riverlands. And," I take a sip of my wine, "Take care that our discussion remains clandestine."

Myles bow and quickly depart to carry out my order. Its been only a few months since I met him but I have learnt he is as loyal to me as he is good at sword. He'd make excellent knight.

A throbbing headache returns right above my right eyebrow just as I think of the events to come. Hopefully, if everything is exactly the way I imagined, I can make Westros a better place. A place where the people do not live in the constant fear of burning alive, or living so scared at every mistake they make. The least I can give them is security against this. Against my Father. Against the Others.

And then it hits me. I did not tell Elia anything. Elia, my wife, my close companion, cannot now all this. I cannot protect her from all the harms there are, but the least I can do is be silent.

The hallway is once again filled with servants, both young and old, at this time. Averted gazes and formal bows are present. "No need here," I pull the lady up, a woman in her late sixties, as she struggles with the bow. "Leave those formalities out of Dragonstone." She smiles a winkled smile and pats my cheek. My cheek muscles tug into a smile as she hurries off.

Down another hallway, I enter my room. Its been just a few years since I moved here after marrying Elia, but it striks me as...warm and comfortable, unlike my own room in King's Landing , cold leaking out the walls.

My newborn son rests in a wooden bed. Elia is seated beside him, gently nursing him. She looks up when I come, her dark eyes radiating love and peace. "Rhaegar." She must be finally happy here. I sit down beside her.

Planting a kiss on her forehead, I wrap my arms around her and smile at our son. He just lays there, contently sleeping. "He is more like you. Violet eyes, and soon, I think, would have fair hair just like yours." Elia twists my hair around her hand. And we sit that way for a moment, just still.

"How are you, Elia?"After she gave birth to our son, her health declined. For quite a while, she could not get up from her bed. The Grand Maester clearly said that she can bare no more children. She cannot bare a third. Two. My headache returns.

"Have you thought of a name yet?"How easily she sees right into the depths of my mind, it never ceases to amaze me. I have told her about the Prince that was Promised. Thus her concern began with the naming.

I sigh and get up. This is what troubles me. Not what I would name my son, but what if I am wrong. At first, I had thought that I was the one who the prophecy was about. Me and my siblings. But there is only me and my younger brother Vienys. Two. The saying specified three.

"Aegon," I tell Elia. That much I am sure of. "What better name for a king?" On cue, Aegon moves his hand.

She gives me a half smile and puts little Aegon's hand back onto his bed. "Will you make a song for him?"

I couch onto the window seat. Sun sets against the shore of Dragonstone, turning the sky an artist's board. Beautiful. "He has a song." I look up, seeking the help of the Faith of the Seven. Instead my gaze lands on my harp, leaning against the stone wall. " He is the Prince that was Promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." I tap my finger on my knee, my worry increasing. "There must be one more."Three. Yes, three. But if Elia cannot bare another child.."The dragon had three heads."

Releasing a breathe, I pick up the harp and start playing. Slowing, at first, catching the tune. Letting it linger in the silence. Then add speed, more tune. The song turns from peaceful to sorrowful. From stillness to pace. From life to death. I reach the climax of the song of Ice and Fire and end it just the way I was taught, with a sudden downfall, the way the fate is left to the savior.

Solitude greets my song. I turn to Elia, and see her sorrowful face. "I'm sorry." Pain radiates from her, striking me hard. "I really am, Rhaegar."

Walking over to her, I wrap her in my embrace and pat her back. "Elia..."

But she is not one to be dishonest. "I cannot bare you another, my love. I cannot..." She cries out and I rock her gently, forward and backward. "The prophecy...because of me it cannot-"

"Shshsh," I say. "Do not worry. It is not for you to burden yourself with." I disintegrate and cup her face with my palms. " If it must happen, it will find a way." I stare into her dark eyes, to make her see what I want her to. Once again I see her Dornish beauty that nothing can hide in this place. An everygreen tree in a winter forest.

"My Lord." Her voice is low, hardly audible. "Maybe you should find another woman...the three..."

Her words hang in the silence as I comprehend their meaning. One look into her eyes confirms that she means it. That I should take anther woman. Break my marriage vow. "Elia-"

She places her finger on my lips, successfully silencing my refusal. " 'If it must happen, it will find a way.' You said so yourself. And this must be the way."

Elia lifts her finger to plant a soft, delicate kiss on my lips and then walks away to Rhaenys in the next room. Leaving me to understand the true meaning of her words. 

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Thank you for reading this. I hope I'M not boring you to death!

-Fangirl3321