The Last Dragon -Rhaegar's Story

The Feast

"Is this all, my Lord?"

The young maid stands silently as I stare at myself in the bright mirror. I am dressed once again in the Tragaryen black and red. The dress is rather well made, just to fit me. "Good." My fair hair falls past my shoulders. Silver against black. Light against dark. The prophecy. A sharp pain shoots across my brows. I gently massage it."Would you recommend any more?"

"M-my Lord?" The girl answers. My heart falls. Every person I've met here in the Riverlands is just as frightened as this woman. It pains me to see them this way.

I turn to her and lower my gaze to the dress I am in. She composes herself as I wait for an answer.

"If I may, my Lord." She timidly comes around and eyes me. It takes me a moment to make sense.

"Yes, yes. Of course," I answer.

And so she attached my black clok in a different fashion than I am accustomed to. A pattern depicting waves, flowing from my right shoulder to past me arms. Beautiful.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Piper, My L-lord." Her voice quavers.

"Well, Piper," my fingers smoothen the extraordinary pattern. " This is the most beautiful work I have seen. Thank you."

Before she could reply, a knock sounds on the door, demanding my attention. Piper quickly bows and hurries off. I look up to find Jon Connington standing against the door.

"Jon." This is odd. It is almost the time for the feast.

"My Lord, there is news." He comes around and patches the clok to fall past my knees. "The King has come."

A dry lump forms in my throat. Swallowing, I raise my eyebrows at him. He gives a curt nod.

I sigh and reply," Well, at least my Father is fit enough to travel again." There are spies everywhere and I dare not say things of importance out loud.

The King has come. The words ring in my ears. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. My Father has not left the Red Keep in over three years, convinced of a plot against him. He denied this by stating that his health has degraded, but it fooled no one. If he is here, then it is only because he was alerted. But who...

And the discussion? I was a fool to believe that I could make this happen without anyone noticing. If I drop out now, it would be too suspicious.

"Come, my friend, my companion. Let us attend the feast." I put my arm on Jon's shoulder as I whisper into his left ear. "It is crucial that you prove your loyalty to the King. Don't let it be suspicious." I disintegrate before it becomes too long a pause.

"Anything for you, my Lord," Jon replies back. A look into his dark eyes confirm that he will indeed do it.

And so we travel down to the great hall of House Whent, lavishly decorated. But my mind always returns back to this gathered audience. How will I ever carry out my plan? I must think of something.

"My Lord." The first one to greet us is Jon Aryyn, the Lord of the Vales. "You look a true Targaryen." In other words, he means that our discussion is at a serious risk.

"And you, Lord Arryn, are dressed finely." I just mean that everything will be alright. I smile to emphasise my point.

Lord Arryn bows and departs away from the feast. I turn to Jon Connington, but instead find that he is nowhere to be seen. I must enter alone now, don't I? Even Elia isn't here.

As the vast double doors open for me, the smell of wine and roast meat devour me. The noise of chatter is less effective than the smell. Oh my, I don't recall the last time I had food.

With a glance around the massive room, I spot my table. Elia is seated there, little Aegon in her arms. Aegon seems to be enjoying playing with the food presented. Seated beside Elia is her younger brother, Prince Oberyn, toying with our daughter Rhaenys. I watch for a moment, for they seem to be enjoying themselves. And then I see Lewyn Martell sitting across them. Lewyn, Elia's uncle and Kingsguard. The King is here then.

I casually take a seat beside Elia, still taking care of Aegon. Why she insists on not taking a wet nurse is something I never comprehend. Yes, she loves them with all her heart. And so do I. But sometimes we just need time for other matters.

"How is the feast, my Lady?" I ask, tickling Aegon from his feet. He kicks out wildly and we both laugh loud.

"It is great, my Lord," Elia answers, smiling.

"And Oberyn," I burst. "How are you, my brother?"

The Red Snake leans over Elia and Rhaenys. "Enjoying myself, Your Grace. The food is splendid, and so are your children." He gives me a wild laugh. The wine.

"That's good!" I take a cup of wine from a passing serving girl and wink at her as a thanks.

Elia darts her elbow into my arm, showing her annoyance. Her eyes speak all that she wants to."The King..."

"What about him?"I tilt my head to study her. Yes, I have told her nothing abut the discussion and it is unlikely someone informed her. So..?

"His health," she answers with a jerk of her head in his direction. Grudgingly, I turn to look at my Father, a few tables away. Dressed in Targayen colors, he sits like a true King, a cup of wine in one hand and a turkey leg in his other. His pale hair and violet eyes are the same shade, but his skin has dropped color. He may try his best to appear strong but that can never fool me. And, I see, not even Elia. "You should talk to him." I give her a sour face. He had said Rhaenys smelled Dornish, an definite insult. Oh, I can find a thousand reasons why I shouldn't, but one from Elia is enough to make me go. She's right. No matter what, we are of the same blood. And it is not my feast. I nod at Elia and get up.

I take my time going to my Father, giving my thanks to Oswell Whent for the arrangement. A small talk with the Lannister twins takes place next. I meet the newly knighted Jamie and discuss our experience for a while. His sister Cersei talks little, just observing me. Tywin Lannister is not here, I notice. Maybe he took the marriage rejection a bit too hard. Relation between the Hand and the King aren't all that well anyway.

Spotting Jon Connington again, I take him to meet my Father.

"Good evening, Father."

Jon greets him too, bowing. King Aerys II looks up and his laughter dies. His unnerving gaze pins me to the spot, but I reply with my own blazing gaze. So he does know. But how?

"Yes, yes," replies the King, sipping his wine goblet. "A shame Rhaella could not come. Viserys requires her more than I do, it seems." He turns to Jon, then back to me. "Taking pleasure in the Dornish, aren't you?" He laughs, slamming the empty cup hard on the table. "Dorne," he sniffs.

I could not control the sigh that leaves me. My Father has become more suspicious then. Not even trusting Dorne is a new height. "Father-"

A round of clapping stops me midway. Turning around, I find every person in the hall turning towards me. Wait, do I see Oswell Whent coming to me? Yes, it must be him. No, not now. I have to prove to my Father that there is no discussion. I must prove it NOW.

"My Prince," he has to bellow to be heard over the noise. "Why don't you entertain us by playing the harp?"

I swallow a dry lump in my throat. Fuck, I forgot about this. The audience cheers more loudly now, and my refusal would go unnoticed. The talk to my Father will have to wait.

"Why not?" I put on my most cheerful voice and, with a graceful smile, now to the audience.

-------------------------------------

I really enjoy being inside Rhaegar's mind. After season 6, I was fascinated and researched about him. This was the result.

— Fangirl3321